By The Pricking of My Thumbs... Something Wicked This Way Comes
by Megan & Schehrezade


Chapter 10

"I don't get it!" Buffy twisted her hands together and stared at Willow. Her friend was curled up on the bed, idly playing with Mr. Gordo's ears.

"Get what, honey?" Willow peeked up through her lashes and waited with baited breath for Buffy to speak. It had been a week since the raising and the two friends were still tentatively rebuilding their friendship. There was a reticence to Buffy's manner that annoyed her- there had still not been the falling into her arms and thanking her for the big save from hell and it bugged Willow.

The redhead could hear the horrified screams in her mind that had emanated from Buffy when she first caught sight of Anne, her 'replacement', and the entire house and probably the whole street had! It had taken Tara and Dawn a long while to calm Buffy- once her scream-a-thon had been stopped with a quick slap on the cheek from Anya. The entire meeting of the two Buffy’s had been a disaster from start to finish. She’d hoped to ease Buffy into meeting Anne but it had been too late

Once Dawn and Tara had managed to calm Buffy down, everyone had noticed that Anne had disappeared into her room- the one that Buffy had since reclaimed. When they tried to get her to come out and talk, their attempts had been met with a telling silence. The four Scoobies had stared at the firmly shut door, each of them filled with guilt and worry.

Spike had slipped outside before they had entered the kitchen and was only visible in the darkness by the glowing ember of his cigarette. His lack of involvement in the entire situation was telling to Tara and Willow. It had even given Anya and Xander pause, but for now their attentions were directed towards other more important and more immediate problems.

They had thought that by bringing Anne over that they were getting their Buffy back. But in their despair and arrogance, all of them had forgotten one important fact - Anne was a person in her own right and not a clone of Buffy. It was a dark realisation, but a necessary one. Even Anya agreed during the hushed conversation in the upstairs hallway that they had been insensitive towards Anne and that they all had to make more of an effort with the scarred slayer. More so now that Buffy was back

Willow had reluctantly revealed what she and Anne had discussed on patrol that one night she had accompanied Spike and the Slayer. The other three had been shocked into silence at the idea that Anne had believed they would send her back. Before they could talk anymore, though, they heard Buffy calling for them and they rushed to her.

It had been a fraught evening, not the celebratory one that the four Scoobies had been anticipating. Dawn and Buffy sat wrapped up in each other's arms on the sofa. All glistening eyes and trembling lips as the others explained the events leading up to the ritual to raise Buffy from the dead. Tara, and surprisingly Anya, noticed the dulled look in Buffy's eyes when Willow said that they had to rescue her from the hell dimension she had been held prisoner in. Dawn had then started yelling at them for not telling her what they had planned and neither woman had a chance to ask Buffy why she looked so distraught. The slowly emerging looks of frustration and muttered grumbles from Buffy directed at all of them as the evening progressed were heartening. It reminded them all of the past.

Eventually the conversation had turned to Anne and how they-- with Giles-- had brought her over from the other dimension. Buffy had blinked in surprise at her errant Watcher's involvement in the casting, and then reminded of his absence by the mention of his name, she had asked where he was. The resounding silence from everyone was enough of a response for the tired and sensitive Slayer; another man she loved had left her. Dawn felt the tiny tremors that overtook her sister's skinny frame and tried to soothe her.

Buffy had seemed to gather a hardness inside and pushed aside her abandonment issues. She was well versed in living with them and demanded to know why they had felt it necessary to call over Anne. All of them winced at the angry looks Buffy aimed at them, and when they revealed that possibly more than a few others had slipped through the portal into this dimension, they had waited for the explosion. Instead they got a tired, resigned sigh.

As the evening continued, Xander took up the role of storyteller, trying to explain why Anne had been called over by them, allowing the others to interrupt and add their two-penny’s worth.

Tara had been the one to hesitantly explain that they needed someone to help them fight. The shy Wicca had almost curled into a ball when Buffy had asked why Spike hadn’t helped, hurt and betrayal filling her voice. Willow had rescued her girlfriend from Buffy’s cross-examination with a few simple words. She told Buffy that Spike had shredded the Bot.

Dawn had squirmed guilty against her sister when Buffy had asked why Spike had been upset enough to waste the Bot but had barely looked at her when he had come in. There had been no answer to her question, they didn’t know and couldn’t work out the blond vampire’s complete about face.

Tara had not said anything about her suspicions wanting to wait until she had a chance to talk with the younger Summers sister alone. Xander had hefted a weighty sigh of relief that his earlier comments to a disoriented Buffy about their suspicion of magic seemed to not have lingered in her muddled ‘back from the dimensions of hell’ mind.

Buffy sat curled up against Dawn and half listened with a growing horror and anger. She was still struggling to come to terms with her brutal revival and clung to the familiar, her sister, the being she had died for. Unaware that she was only partially taking in all the explainy stuff her over excited friends continued to babble at her. So she had let their words drift over her and she nodded here and there, just to give the impression that she was listening. Buffy recognised their usual motif of a quick fix and then leave whatever or whoever it was to their own devices. Their self-absorption was of the norm and this time she was too tired to call them on it. Once they had called Anne over, they had pretty much left her to her own devices. Only Dawn and Spike had attempted to make her welcome.

Buffy had dazedly glanced towards the kitchen, still wondering where Spike was and why he hadn't greeted her with open arms. It was a weird. He had been curiously nonplussed by her reappearance and from everyone else's reactions they were just as weirded out by his ‘oh hey’ attitude. Once he had cleaned up in the kitchen, Spike had bypassed the reunion in the sitting room with nary a glance inside and had stalked downstairs to his room.

He had taken up residence in the basement. When he had officially moved in—as opposed to his being held captive in restraints designed for his own safety—he sub-consciously avoided Buffy's abandoned room. The scents that infused the girlie room had caused a miasma of pain in his head, so the peroxide vampire had taken up residence in the basement and never ventured across the threshold of Buffy's domain of his own accord again.

Buffy felt something clench inside her at the abrupt dismissal of her presence by her vampire, and her full lips firmed in disappointment. Unnoticed by any of them, Dawn watched the misery on her sister's face over Spike's disappearance downstairs and guilt filled her again - she needed to break the spell and fast!

Buffy focused back on the conversation about Anne and there was sadness to her countenance. One that the Scoobies and Dawn were all too familiar with.

~@~@~

Even a week later Willow and the others could tell that there was a huge amount of issues between the two Slayers. None of them had any idea what to do or say. Instead they had decided to take their lead from Buffy, as they had often done in the past. The only problem with that was that Buffy was being very quiet, spending most of her time with Dawn. She also barely seemed to recall the intense conversation the night she came home, so they had all decided to let Buffy slowly readjust to life before talking to her again and filling her in.

Willow also was a bit frowny over how easily Dawn and Anne had settled into sharing a room - there had been a serious lack of space in the house. Spike had mentioned moving out but when Dawn had burst into tears, he had retracted his offer. Instead, they had all played sardines and squished a cot into Dawn's room for Anne. Once everyone had settled, a routine slowly established.

The most telling result of Buffy's return was that she and Dawn were much closer. So much so that Willow was beginning to get a teensy bit jealous of the two sisters. Added to that, Tara was not happy with her, and Willow had no idea what that was about. Every time she tried to bring it up with her lover, Tara would get a funny look in her eyes and begin to talk about training exercises for them to do with their magic. Willow had dismissed the suggestion with a faint giggle, saying that she was beyond the need to learn how to control her magic.

After a few attempts, Tara had retreated into herself and began to stutter slightly whenever the others had talked about the resurrection or magic in general. The speech impediment had become so repetitive that Willow had noticed it, and then she had tried to talk it over with Tara. She had been rebuffed firmly. Willow was getting tired of Tara's twitching over every little spell. The redhead kinda wished that she had a magically inclined buddy to have fun with and not be all lecturey and ‘no, you can't do it like that’ because it wouldn’t be keeping the balance of nature; of good and evil.

"Get what, honey?" Willow asked. She had been lost in her thoughts and had been unaware that Buffy hadn't replied to her question, so in good gossip fashion, she repeated it.

"Huh?" Buffy was pulled back from her ruminations. She had been sitting there, brushing her hair and gazing sightlessly into the mirror. Her thoughts were filled with Spike and Anne; she had no idea what was going on with them, or with her life. To be honest, it was all too much for her. Buffy felt like she did just before she had jumped from the tower: hollow, lifeless and alone. Even more so because Spike was not even looking at her, let alone talking to her. Instead, he trained and patrolled with Anne. Buffy's frazzled mind veered away from the 'other Slayer', still not ready to address that hornet’s nest.

"Get what, Buffy?" Willow repeated patiently. She was prepared to sit here until doomsday if it meant Buffy was doing the talky best-friend stuff again!

"Spike." Buffy pulled her hair up and tied it into a ponytail. She eyed the length and wondered if she should get a trim and also go and replace the highlights that seemed to have faded out while she had been interred. Buffy was more than a little wigged out that her hair had kept growing after she had died. She made a mental note to get to a hairdresser and have something done with it. 'Maybe if it was blonder, Spike might notice.'

Willow shifted uncomfortably. She had been wondering when Spike would come up. Truthfully, she joined Tara in her worry about the totally underwhelming response to Buffy's return by her once most ardent admirer.

"What about Spike, sweetie?" She decided to err on the side of caution and wait to hear what Buffy had to say about Spike. In the past--before Buffy had died-- Willow would’ve freaked at the idea of Buffy and Spike. But now, after witnessing Spike’s grief, Willow accepted that he loved Buffy and if her friend decided that she wanted to pursue him, then there was no way she or any of the others would object. Much…

"He acts like he doesn't remember anything about me!" Buffy twisted her hands in her lap and then turned to face Willow on the bed. "It's weird. He goes from chaining me up and threatening to stake psycho momma to nothing!" Buffy stood up and began to pace back and forth.

Willow’s brain clicked into gear when she heard Buffy. Spike had no memories of the recently returned blond that made sense of his lack of 'yippee, the love of my unlife is back from a hell dimension and not a drooling mess from whatever she went through'. Up until now, Willow had considered that Spike had cast a numbing spell on himself so that he could function without Buffy in his life.

But now...now, Willow realised that Spike seemed to have no memories about Buffy. Every time any of them had begun to reminisce, he had rubbed his temples and left. It was almost as if he didn't have anything to discuss, and he got uncomfortable. Willow frowned slightly. Nno, that wasn't right, he was usually all ‘owie my head hurts’. From what Dawn had said and what she and the others had witnessed of Spike's pain, it was very real.

But then again, the pain these days was not so noticeable; it had changed about five days ago. Something had changed on a basic level. Instead of grr argh, it hurts! Spike was now just ‘Buffy who’? Willow hurt for her friend. She knew that Spike's rejection had wounded Buffy, and she had no idea how to help her.

~@~@~

Dawn pressed her ear against the door and tried to hold her breath. When she had heard Spike's name fall from her sister's lips, the Key was hooked. She had already tried to do a reversal spell on Spike the day after Buffy had been returned to her. Various snippets she caught, combined with the yearning looks her sister shot Spike’s back, left Dawn with a need to set things right. Now, if only she possessed the skill.

His lack of reaction and complete dispassion was killing her. Dawn knew that unmagicked Spike would have been over the moon with Buffy back. And in a way Dawn felt like she was cheating Spike of something by having cast the spell on him. At the time it had been a necessity; she had needed him to survive for her, and himself. But now he was starting to freak her out with the zombie Spike stuff. Also with all the freaky bonding time with Anne. Wrong much? He was meant to be with her. Dawn rolled her eyes at the teen poutyness that was her and tried to eavesdrop on Willow and her sister.

The spell had been a general reversal one that she had found in one of the books Willow had borrowed from Giles and never returned. The only thing that was worrying Dawn was that Buffy had knocked on the bathroom door and interrupted her. Dawn could tell that Spike still had no memories, but at least he wasn't bleeding from his orifices. She had promised herself to try again when the house was quiet, yet so far that had been a non-starter. There had been someone around pretty much all the time. Maybe it was time to fess up to Tara and get her to help fix Spike.

~@~@~

"I hate how he is all Slayer buddies with Anne."

Buffy pouted at Willow.

The redhead was secretly reveling in the conversation -- they were finally doing the best friendy thing and Willow had missed it!

Buffy flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, her fingers laced behind her head and a small frown marring her forehead. "He spends all his time with her: training, patrolling and talking. He used to do that with me."

Willow arched a brow at that blatantly false memory of the facts. She was greeted with the patented Summers eyeroll and it made her giggle.

“Okay, not so much. But it sounded nice, and he was helping us a lot before I…you know…jumped.”

"I know, sweetie. But you have to remember it was real tough for him when you died." Willow wondered if she should tell Buffy about all the nights they had dragged him from her grave and locked him up so he couldn't greet the sunlight in the dawn. It may help Buffy understand more about Spike, but Willow was not gonna tell her blonde friend anything about her magical suspicions.

Buffy was not too cool with people using magic on themselves or others. Willow couldn’t stop the grimace as she remembered Buffy's reaction to the whole ‘Will be done’ spell incident. Also, if she brought that up then Buffy would wanna 'talk' about the resurrection and also the bringing over of Anne and the extra, scarily dangerous and nightmare inducing vamps. Willow mentally sighed at the ongoing problem of the vampires -- no matter how hard they all tried they couldn't dust them or find where they were hiding. Willow was starting to freak over her vampy alter ego ‘cause sometimes she acted so familiar—way too familiar and it was creepy.

Buffy rolled her head on the mattress, hope filling her eyes. "Really, was he upset?" Giddy excitement coloured her voice.

Willow futilely braced herself against the 'oh please spill' look in Buffy's eyes even as she cringed inside at Buffy’s eager need to hear that Spike suffered for losing her. "Yeah, maybe he's just staying away cos he doesn't want to get hurt? Also, he and Anne were close before...before..."

"Before you raised me from the dead?" Buffy supplied, a tinge of resentment in her voice that Willow missed entirely. She deliberately avoided the whole Anne and Spike were close comment, because if she spoke it out aloud, then it'd be real. Buffy was starting to feel a teeny bit of resentment towards Anne. The other version of her had replaced her not only in her room and her life; she had also taken over her patrolling and her vampire.

The anger was starting to build in her. Buffy tried hard to ignore it, but it was there in her heart -- like an insidious growth. She pushed the bad moody feelings down and turned to the Spike situation. She was filled with hope that if the blond vampire had mourned her, then maybe he felt something. ‘Cause with the way he was behaving now, Buffy suspected that if she were on fire Spike wouldn't help her. Instead, he'd roast some marshmallows on the blaze.

"How sad was he?" Buffy couldn't help herself. Since her return, she had begun to examine the feelings she had for Spike and had been surprised at their strength. The blonde had wondered if it was because he wasn't interested in her anymore? A case of wanting what you couldn’t have. But she dismissed that. Sometimes she'd catch him looking at her and there was something in his eyes, not at the level of puppy dog devotion that it had been - but something was definitely budding in his heart. 'If she could just pry him away from Anne, then maybe something might happen?'

These feelings she had for Spike were new and fresh, but Buffy had learned the hard way not to wait for good things to happen to her. If she did then either they went bad, or she died.

Buffy remembered one of her first conversations with Willow in the Bronze, about living in the now and enjoying life. She sadly wondered where that innocent girl had gone. And then remembered she had died nightly on patrol as she had staked vampire after vampire and fought demons. Later, during the whole 'Faith trying to prove she wasn't evil and working for a snake to be Mayor', Willow had told her to seize the day.

It hadn’t only been the attrition of patrolling that had tarnished her innocence; it had also been somewhere mid-Angel angst that her hope and youthful joy at life had been forgotten. But not any more, dammit! She had died for the cause and now she wanted something for herself. And if it came in a leather wrapped package with fangy yummy goodness, then so be it.

She did wonder where the nummy feelings for Spike had come from and when they had started. Buffy had lain awake in her bed—deftly avoiding nightmares by refusing to sleep—trying to fit it all together. As far as she could work it out, it had been when he had sat beaten to a pulp in his crypt. The determination to protect her and Dawn from Glory was the only thing keeping him upright, then the brush of their lips. A spark of something had started in her heart with the first soft touch of his lips. It might have been love, but she had died too soon, again, and had not even had a chance to examine it.

That kiss was probably when she had started to feel something more than revulsion for Spike. It had been a teeny tiny spark deep inside her but slowly it had begun to warm through her body, and then that last night was a rush of more understanding. His face when she had invited him back into her house and his choked words, then it had clicked in her head and she knew. But she had died and it had been too late.

So now Buffy was determined to seize the Spike, even if she was confused as hell as to what she was feeling and worried that he hated her guts.

"Well, he..." Willow gave in. She hadn't wanted to give Buffy the full disclosure over Spike, but it started to pour out of her and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Buffy lay on her side, her solemn eyes never leaving Willow's face as the entire sequence of events since her death were laid bare for her to analyse. As Willow talked, something warm filled Buffy's heart. If he had been so upset-- suicidal and manic-- then maybe his feeling for her were still there.

Buffy burst into tears when Willow described the awful night when Spike had wasted the Bot. "He really did that? Willow, I don't understand what changed. How did he go from doing that to barely even noticing me?"

"Oh Buffy, don't cry." Willow reached over and took Buffy's slim hand in her pale one and squeezed her fingers, trying to reassure her as well as calm her down. Willow's small chin firmed. She knew what she had to do -- she had to fix this. Spike was a poopy head for being all 'ohhh, so your back. Like I care la la la. I cast a spell to stop the hurting, so there!' It was making Buffy cry. Willow needed to fix everything so that everyone was happy again.

Willow didn't realise the darkness that tinged her eyes as she considered the way in which she could change things magically. There was a foreboding air to her demeanour - one that was beginning to take permanent root in her ever since the resurrection and the massive amount of dark magiks she had accessed to bring Buffy back. Buffy needed her.


~@~@~

"Try the kick again, pet. You're not following through hard enough." Spike adjusted his grip on the punching bag and braced himself.

Anne bounced on her toes and then spun and kicked out and up.

Spike grunted and held the punching bag steady. "Not bad, pet, but you're slightly over balancing. If you are fighting someone seasoned then they'd have you on your arse before you could regroup."

Spike sauntered over to Anne and circled behind her, unaware of the look of sheer excitement that coloured her eyes when he placed his large calloused hands on her hips.

But their hidden observer did. Buffy felt a rush of anger at the swoony teen, not feeling even the slightest bit of sympathy or encouragement for this version of herself. She briefly wondered if she had been like that with Angel.

Rage filled her for a split second and then subsided, her hands fisted at her side. Not only was Spike touching and training the interloper, they were using her training room- the one Giles and Xander had made for her! Anne had taken over just about everything in her absence-- from her room and clothes, to her sister and Spike. Buffy was trying so hard not to freak out, but slowly it was building to a nice out of control fire.

After spending the morning talking with Willow, the two of them had headed out for some pampering time. Buffy and Willow both had their hair done, and they so looked all with the cuteness now. It had been so good to have a girlie bonding session, catching up on all the missed opportunities before she’d dived off the tower. It had relaxed their mutual wariness slightly, and so it’d been completely of the good.

Buffy reached up and twirled a strand of her newly golden hair with her freshly manicured fingers. She felt pretty and figured maybe heading over to the shop and hanging out until Spike showed up would fill her relatively empty day. When she and Willow had arrived, Anya had announced that Spike and Anne were training. So here she stood in the shadows, watching through a crack in the door.

"What are you doing, Buffy?" Dawn tiptoed up beside her sister. She had just gotten out from school and had headed straight for the Magic Box, clued in to the latest trend of the actual house being empty this early in the day.

Buffy turned and pressed a finger to her lips, "Shhh."

"Oh! Your hair looks so cute! I was thinking about putting highlights in mine. I wish we could've gone together." Dawn reached over and grabbed Buffy's hands and examined the French Manicure, secretly delighted that Buffy was getting over her apathy and taking an interest in her looks. Dawn hoped that the effort her big sis had put into herself wouldn't go unnoticed by a certain peroxide pest. If the idiot could drag himself away from his apathy long enough to open his stupid eyes.

Buffy grinned and for once the smile lit up her eyes. Unaware at the slightly jealous look being directed at her by Willow, Buffy patted her hair. "Thanks, now shush!"

With that, both the sisters began to eavesdrop on Spike and Anne.

Behind them, Willow settled down to catch up on her homework and Anya flitted around dusting.

Dawn listened to Spike and Anne bantering as they trained but kept her eyes closely on Buffy's face, firstly to gauge her reactions and secondly because she was still in shock that her sister was back.

Unbeknownst to Spike or Anne that they now had two eavesdroppers they continued to train. Slowly Anne was developing her own style, incorporating in more of Spike's flamboyant moves.

Anne collapsed onto the training mat with a sigh. "Can we break for a moment?" She reached into her rucksack and pulled out a bottle of water and drank deeply.

Spike squatted down next to her, his forearms resting on his knees. "You okay?" Concern filled his pale blue eyes as he watched the younger girl fiddle with her bottle. Since the handholding incident he had tried to keep a little distance, but then slowly he had been drawn back to her. She was a cute kid. And an outsider - much like he was, or at least had been.

Now the real Slayer was back he was slightly unsure of where he stood with the Scoobies. He had expected them to close ranks and shove him out into the cold, but they hadn't, and Spike was puzzled as to why. He had offered to move out; in fact he had packed his duffle bag and was heading out when Dawn caught him and started shrieking. She had begged him not to leave her and then Buffy had appeared in the hall and taken the duffle from his unresisting hands and stowed it back in the basement without a word. He had taken one look in her eyes and something had melted inside him.

So he stayed, surrounded by women and secretly loving every moment of it. Mostly he remained for Dawn. She needed him and nothing short of a stake to the heart would remove him from her side. Spike loved her like the baby sis he had never had when he had been poncy William.

The other reason he stayed was Tara. Since the raising, Spike had sensed something was 'up' with the lover-Wiccas. Glinda barely managed to talk to Red without stuttering. Red was the other reason he could justify staying - something was off. His demon could sense it, and Spike wanted to stay close at hand to protect the Nibblet.

Anne gazed shyly up at him through her lashes, blissfully unaware of the grunt of anger that emanated from Buffy as she spotted within seconds the look of adoration directed at Spike. The vampire, however, remained oblivious, too caught up in his worries about Willow.

"Sorta." Anne shrugged. Part of her wished Spike would kiss her, but the more realistic part of her was telling her to get over it. Spike had made his feelings clear on the subject-- no touchy and only friends. Anne couldn't stop herself from still wanting him, but she respected Spike so highly that she would bide by his wishes.

Spike sat down crossing his legs and cocked his head. "Tell Uncle Spike, pet." He knew that the girl still fancied him, but he wasn't interested. Luckily, she was starting to pick up on that and had stopped with the awkward touching and batting of her lashes. It also helped that the migraines had disappeared. He felt like a new vamp, now.

"It's just…I don't think Buffy wants me around." Anne couldn't help but recall the screams of fright and horror that had greeted her first meeting with Buffy. Since then, the older version of herself had barely spoken to her. Instead Buffy would watch her with solemn eyes and shoot her wary looks.

Anne also felt that now that Buffy was around, she was even more of a third wheel. None of the others had said anything but Anne wondered what her role in this world was now that the true slayer had returned. She knew that Willow had said she was here to stay, but now Anne wondered what for? They had a Slayer and their friend back, why would they need a spare?

Spike itched for a cigarette but he suspected that Buffy would kick his arse if he smoked in the training room. He knew that Anne's concerns were very real to her, but he also realised she was an insecure teen whose entire reason for being here had been overturned with Red’s latest spell.

Added to that, there was the matter of his rather brutal rejection of her advances and her teen hormones putting her in a pickle. He had no idea how to assuage her concerns. If it'd been Dawn, he’d’ve had no problem. But Anne was another thing altogether. He knew how to handle Dawn, but Anne was a different matter.

Going for a blanket conciliatory angle, he reached over and patted her cautiously on the shoulder. "None of that, Pet. Buffy's an odd bird, and wot with all she's gone through recently she's bound to be a bit off kilter. Give her some time, alright?"

Buffy growled at the sight of Spike touching the interloper, and rage filled her. It was only the presence of the others that forestalled any beating up of Anne. That and the faint voice inside her telling her it was wrong and not fair of her. But the voice felt to be getting fainter the more times it had to defend Anne.

Anya could almost sense the jealousy and anger pouring off Buffy. Whatever she was listening to in the other room was filling her friend with so much envy that if Anya had still been a vengeance demon, she would be twirling her pendant and asking if there was anything Buffy wished would happen to Spike. She wisely kept quiet and carried on with her cleaning.

Dawn flinched at the sound of Buffy's grrr and also at what Anne had said. She and Anne were friends, if not sisters. She knew Anne was feeling kinda weirded out, but it was Buffy, and Dawn had no intentions of taking sides. Anne was cool and sharing a room with her hadn't been as bad as Dawn had thought it'd be. They talked a lot and hung out. Anne spent a load of time in their shared room. Dawn had wondered why and now she knew, and her heart ached for Anne. 'Poor thing, it must be awful, being pulled from one hellish dimension to here, having everything and then it's all pulled apart cos of Willow playing the big Wicca...'

Dawn veered away from thinking about Willow. She had heard her and Tara fighting a few times over magic usage and it made her tummy feel funny. She wanted everyone to be happy and from the way Tara behaved recently, Dawn was worried that she might leave Willow.

"Why?" Anne's voice drew both the Summers’ girls attention away from their inner musings and back to the troubled teen talking to Spike.

"Why wot?" Spike asked.

"Why give her time? She's home." Anne uttered the final word with such bitterness and envy that Spike glanced up warily at her. "I don't have a home anymore; everything we had before she came back has gone. Now she's here, it's all different." Anne picked at her sneaker's laces as she finally gave voice to her resentments.

"Yeah, but pet, it'll be okay." Spike really had no idea what to say. He wished Glinda was here to soothe the girl with her kind words and gentle presence.

Anne reached over and grabbed Spike's shoulder. "We could leave, just pack up and go!"

Spike flinched away from her urgent touch; he didn’t want her to touch him. It felt like someone else should- but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember who.

He stood and paced the length of the room and then walked back to her, his eyes cold and uncompromising. "No!" he exclaimed. His angry voice made all three women jump.

Buffy’s fingernails cut into her palms as her hands fisted in anger over Anne’s suggestion. The teenage interloper had stolen her calling, life, clothes, sister and now she wanted her vampire? ‘Not gonna happen without a confrontation!’ she thought angrily.

Dawn’s stomach lurched at the words falling from her ‘friends’ lips. ‘So much for being friends…’ Dawn was wounded. She had thought that they were close, sharing space in her cramped bedroom and giggling over boy bands.

Bonding.

Dawn wondered if all of it was just so Anne could get close to Spike and then steal him away.

Anne stood; excitement lit her hazel eyes and the words poured out of her. "We could, just go back and pack...get in your car and drive...away...anywhere has to be better than here. It's not like we have anything holding us back...we're both alone in this world!"

Spike clenched his jaw, his sharp cheekbones standing out in relief. A rage filled him over her careless words. "I...DO...have someone here," he ground out.

Buffy's heart leapt. 'Me! Oh finally he's gonna say something!'

"What? It can't be Buffy," Anne said dismissively.

"No, Dawn." Spike turned away and began to pull on his duster. He wanted to be away from this conversation, because chip be dammed, he was going to thump her for being so callous.

Buffy's fluttering heart sank to the bottom of her stomach, 'Dawn? Dawn? Why not me...so much for chaining me up and threatening to stake his stupid Sire for me.'

Both eavesdroppers scrambled away from the door and pretended to study the books on the shelves as Spike stormed out and disappeared into the basement with a sulphurous growl.

Before anyone could say anything, the phone rang.

"Giles! Oh, you got our message?" Anya squeaked excitedly. "She's back...yes, Willow did it...uh, Buffy's right here. You want to talk to her?" Anya turned to face Buffy and her bright smile faltered and slipped off her face. "Oh...you'll call her in a few hours at home? Okay. So, when are you coming back?" Anya frowned and nodded. Quietly she muttered goodbye and hung up.

Buffy's face had lit up like a fireworks display when she realised it was her watcher calling, but the smile had faltered and vanished when it became obvious that Giles hadn't wanted to talk to her. Dawn took her hand and gave it a squeeze in support, sympathy etched across her visage.

Willow stood and wrapped an arm around Buffy's shoulders. "Don't worry, honey. He's probably in shock and wants to wait till you're home so you can have a long talk."

Anya nodded. "Of course he'll call. He did say that he would come over as soon as he could, as well."

Buffy shrugged off their reassurances and went to sit at the table, grabbing a book and opening it so she could wallow in her hurt. What was one more disappointment added to her day?

~@~@~

"I really hate this town." The Master growled as he slouched in his throne. Their lair in the new factory that Willow had found the same day that they had been pulled into this new dimension had changed over the past few weeks and was now a fitting domain for a Master vampire of the Aurelian line.

There was his throne of course, which dominated the room from the plinth it sat upon. The dust and filth had been cleaned away under his darling Willow's supervision. He really did adore that minx; she was devilishly wicked and ready to do anything.

He watched the three latest additions to his family with a bored eye. Technology confused him, not that he would ever admit that weakness to anyone, but he appreciated its usefulness. The three fledges were useful, and he applauded Willow for turning them and bringing them to him.

In the old days it had been simple, now it was a brave new world and it held no interest for him. In his Sunnydale he had ruled supreme, barely challenged. He had explored new ways for farming blood and had allowed the modern world to influence his thinking.

And it had failed.

His last memory of home had been a fight with the scarred Slayer and him gaining the upper hand. He had been about to go for the kill when there had been a flash and he had been reunited with his two favourites, both of whom he had witnessed fall into ash. This had been the only redeeming features the inter-dimensional traveling had offered. The return of his two Childer-- and now one of them had been torn from him again. He sighed. When they had discovered from his new minions who had been spying on the defenders of the Hellmouth that his precious Xander had been killed by his alter-ego it had been a humiliating shock for them all.

From what he could gather from Jonathon, the Slayer had dusted his own counterpart here in Sunnydale years ago. Despite himself, The Master shivered at the thought of falling to dust. He was sickened at the idea of a dimension where he didn't exist- that was just wrong.

What was also wrong was how his own kind had turned from him and the Aurelian clan, siding with the Slayer and fighting fellow creatures of the night with her.

First the Puppy and now Spike, it just wasn’t right. It made him sick to his stomach to think that one of the most vicious of his line had been brought to heel by a putrid Slayer.

Never in his entire unlife would he have considered that a possibility. The blond vampire had reveled in his evilness, cutting a swathe of blood across Europe. Now Willow told him that Spike was the Slayer's new puppy—now that the old one had escaped to the City of Angels. His rising ire told him that it just wouldn’t do at all. What was it about this heinous bitch of a Slayer that turned his mightiest soldiers into fools for love?'

The Master stared blankly at the series of screens Warren, Jonathon and the other one were setting up. It was a stroke of genius, this idea. He snapped his fingers and another minion appeared. The tall female vampire dragged a screaming child along behind her and with a bow of her head she handed the crying boy to the Elder of her clan.

The Bat faced vampire caught hold of the child and ran a talon over his exposed throat. "Scream again," he taunted. "It makes the blood taste oh, so good."

With that the ten-year-old boy screamed until his voice vanished. With the dying note of fear the Master sank his fangs into the thin neck and drank greedily. Pushing aside for now the frisson of anger that he had to rely on his food being delivered to him, the Elder vampire tore at the fragile neck that he was drinking from. Brushing aside the small hands that desperately clawed at him for freedom, he drank deeply.

Tossing the drained corpse onto the floor, he licked his lips and smiled broadly. "Excellent vintage; young, untouched and tempered with absolute fear. Perfect!"

Rising, the leather clad demon leapt with ease to the ground and paced over to the three techno geek vampires and watched them avidly. They were giving him Sunnydale in glorious Technicolor. He had refused to leave the lair; it wasn't safe with two Slayers on the loose.

Instead, he had immured himself in a luxurious prison heavily warded by his darling girl's magiks. So far they had evaded the eye of the scarred Slayer and her troupe of followers. But now they had to be on alert; there was another Slayer here, a replica of the scarred one but her face was untouched. And the Master feared her; she was the one who had killed him before in this dimension.

He silently railed against the prison of his own making. Over the decades, he had been hidden underground in London and again in Sunnydale until he had ascended and taken the town for himself. Now in this dimension he was reduced to hiding behind the skirts of his Childe- the prison was a creation of his own paranoia. Soon, he would have to step out and take command of this Hellmouth, but for now, he was content to watch.

"We have ignition!" Warren glanced up from the board he was soldering and pressed a button. His ferret like face was lit up with glee as, one by one, each of the screens flickered and a picture appeared.

"Did it work?" Andrew squeaked in a nasally whine, while sliding out from under the consul that ran the length of one wall. The thirty odd screens they had stolen were hung above the units and had begun to show different parts of Sunnydale.

The Bronze, Main Street, the interior of the Magic Box, exteriors of the Slayer's house and Xander's apartment. They hadn't managed to overcome the invitation barriers of various homes that the Master wanted cameras in, so they had to make do with them focused on their front and back doors.

It would suffice for now. Once they managed to wrangle an invite, or Willow perfected a spell to float the cameras in, they would have access to everything.

Warren looked over his shoulder furtively at The Master. "What do you think, Master?"

The head of the Aurelian clan watched the scenes of everyday life being played out on the monitors. "Not bad. You have done well. Go and get yourselves a treat from the larder. I think Willow brought back a few of your old schoolmates."

Warren and the other's faces lit up with a malevolent glee. Revenge for all their years of being bullied was sweet now they were vamps. They had already diminished the number of their old classmates, and now there were some more to torture and eat. And to think their mom's told them not to play with their food- that was the fun part.

Jonathon hit a few buttons and the VCRs whirred to life. He hesitantly looked up at the scary looking vampire. "Uh...sir?"

Nest looked down at the short vamp. "What?"

"I've set the feeds to tape. We can edit them up so all the boring stuff is gone." Before The Master could reply, Jonathon scurried off after Warren and Andrew.

Nest watched the feedback for a while; he frowned at the sight of Spike storming through the Magic Box and also wondered at the look of sorrow that covered the older Slayer's face. He needed to find out what put that pout on her face and use it to his advantage. The vampire stood and watched for a while and then decided he needed to reward Willow for bringing the three boys into the fold.

With a flourish of leather, he leapt onto the second floor and disappeared through a door that led to his quarters.

Willow yawned and woke at the sound of her Sire entering. She stretched as best she could against the chains that bound her hands and feet to the massive bed that dominated the room. Her naked form was marred with scratches and whip marks and her distended nipples were imprisoned with a set of vicious looking alligator clamps. "Come to play some more, Master?" She pouted prettily up at her leering Sire. She loved it when he left her tied up and waiting for his attention, and she especially adored it when he left the clamps on - they hurt so good.

"Yes, sweet, evil girl." The Master stripped off and, revealing his hairless body, threw himself across her welcoming form with a snarl. He dragged his fangs across her soft belly and lapped up the trails of blood that welled up; the taste of his Childe's blood was just too irresistible.

He turned his head and sank his fangs into the soft skin of Willow's inner thigh. Her legs were wide apart and anchored with strong chains and, as he drank, he eased two taloned fingers between her soaked inner lips and plunged them deep, curling them and tearing at her delicate inner walls. He loved to make his bedmates bleed, and to his delight, Willow loved to shed her blood for him.

Willow vamped out and shrieked in bliss as she came, over and over.

The Master lapped at the wounds and then reached down and freed her legs from their bonds. Roughly he turned Willow onto her stomach.

Willow groaned happily as the new position wrenched her arms painfully. They were now crossed over and the strain of her new position made her entire body quiver with delight and anticipation. She spread her legs apart and levered herself up awkwardly onto her knees.

Nest knelt behind her and watched with lust filled eyes at the way his beautiful redheaded Childe opened herself up to him. Blood streamed down her thighs, mixing with the alluring juices of her arousal that poured from her newly mutilated quim. The wounds on her soft skin from his fangs tore even more and the blood mingled with that which had oozed from her opening. He worked his engorged member and then with a snarl launched himself into her receptive body.

The only sounds that could be heard in the cavernous room were the slapping of their skin as they coupled with a vampiric ferocity, and the snarls and growls of pleasure and pain that echoed around them.

Willow purred happily as their violent coupling forced the clamps on her nipples into the mattress and she moaned as they tore at her and bled. Bracing herself, she thrust back, welcoming his cock into her depths as she climbed closer and closer to her fulfillment.

He may not be her sweet Xander, but her Master knew how to play her body like a fine instrument, tempering pleasure and pain perfectly. Her mouth split into a broad smile, unnoticed by her rutting lover as her face was pressed into the soft pillow and her toes curled as she came long and hard.

The Master reached under her and grabbed her bleeding breasts in his clawed hands, his talons breaking the skin as he gripped hard and filled her clenching channel with his seed. He bent his head and sank his gnarled fangs into the nape her neck and drank deeply as his hips jerked against her. They collapsed with a happy sigh.

The Elder vampire crushed his darling Childe under his heavy body and withdrew his fangs with a contented snarl. Lapping at the fresh holes in her pale freckled skin, he whispered his contentment.

"Willow, my dear, I have a request to make of you."

She turned her head, her eyes glazed with a strange combination of lust and submission-- she had been trained well by her Sire. "Anything, my Master."

"I want the spells removed from Spike. It's time he returned to the bosom of his loving family." The Master rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, wondering what type of thrall spell they had used on Spike to chain him to the Slayer’s side and fight her battles. There was no way in Hades that the brat prince would’ve chosen to fight for good. Once his wicked girl had worked her magic, they would have William back in the fold.

"It will be done, Master," Willow promised as sleep overtook her.

To be continued