~50 Years Later~

Three clouds of gray dust, which had previously been powerful and feared vampires, erupted around a tall, thin, and gorgeous blonde woman. Her piercing blue eyes scanned the sand dunes for other opponents. Finding none, she lifted a pack of weapons onto her taut back. She covered her face in a scarf, leaving only her blue eyes visible through a thinner part of the material. Wind rushed around her as she trudged through the desert, and she had to close her eyes with every violent gust of wind, despite the scarf’s filtering effect.

Her eyes still half-shut, she thrust a powerful kick into the chest of a demonic figure that suddenly growled behind her. The stout, black and tan demon howled in pain, but recovered quickly, and charged at her; its rhinoceros-like horn pointed toward her heart. A whistling arrow plunged into the demon, and its body crumbled into blocks as it fell to the sand. The woman sighed, and brushed herself off.

“Thanks, Mum.”

Buffy and Spike, unchanged in appearance aside from Buffy’s attire, as Spike was still too stubborn to give up his “Bad Boy” look, stepped out of the dark desert. Buffy scanned her daughter’s form, searching for wounds.

“Callie, sweetheart, are you alright?”

Callie nodded, removing the scarf as the wind died down, and she shook the sand from her long, blonde locks.

“Yes, Mum, I’m fine. What are you two doing here?”

Spike moved forward and embraced his daughter, while simultaneously checking her back for wounds Buffy’s scan may have missed.

“She’s okay, Buffy.”

“Oh, thank God…I can’t believe I forgot to check her back!”

When Callie rolled her eyes after noticing her parent’s worried glances at her, Spike sighed.

“We’ve missed you, poppet…sorry to baby you, there’s just no one your Mum and I really have to worry about these days.”

Callie stepped back, a distinct sadness in her eyes.

“Aunt Willow?”

Buffy nodded.

“Very peacefully, Callie. Tara came to her right as she was…as she was leaving us. The coven said she had a higher calling now, whatever that means.”

"Why is it that everyone has to have a 'higher calling'? It isn't fair...why can't we just....uh!"

Spike sighed, putting his hand to his temple and shaking his head.

"I don't know, poppet. The Powers That Be tend to leave us all in the dark about that sort of thing. You should know that by now."

Callie nodded and bit her lip, in pained thought.

“How long ago did she...?”

“About three months.”

“We’ve had a hard time finding you, poppet,” Spike said, a slight tone of admonishment creeping into his voice.

Callie’s head dropped down, her eyes brimming with tears.

“I’m sorry…I…I wish…I should have been there with her.”

“Honey,” Buffy said, rubbing her back, “it’s alright. Willow knew you loved her, and she knew you were needed here…or, wherever you’ve been this past year.”

“I just got here this month, Mum, and I’m really quite ready to leave.”

“Constantinople not to your liking, poppet,” Spike asked.

“Istanbul, Papa.”

Spike laughed.

“It’ll always be Constantinople to me, poppet.”

Buffy motioned toward the dim lights of the city, and they began to walk toward them.

“So, where are you staying, Callie?”

“I have a small apartment in the city. Nothing major; I’m just staying till the Council lets me know where else I’m needed.”

The Council was much changed since Buffy’s days as the Slayer; Giles and his protégé, Dawn, had led the Council into a new era of just and fair leadership. After Giles passed away 25 years earlier, Dawn had taken his position. She began to train her daughter, Maria, a girl who looked suspiciously like Andrew, to be her successor. Two years later, Dawn lost all of her abilities to remain in human form, and, as her true essence emerged, she began to emit a bright yellow glow, before her energy dissipated into a burst of the bright light.

Callie had been the main focus of the Council until the new Slayer, a young girl in Russia, murdered her Watcher and ran into hiding as Dawn was dissipating, and the Hellmouth in Chicago was closing. Illyria and Angel, whom Spike had always thought would outlive them all, died valiantly, while closing the Hellmouth almost as soon as they had gotten to Chicago, fifty years earlier, although, Angelus returned in the previous year, due to a strange loophole the Powers That Be had missed, until Callie sent him back to Hell. Willow had been the only survivor in what the government called “freak earthquake,” and with her death, Spike and Buffy were truly alone.

Callie flicked on the lights in her small, but cozy, apartment, as she and her parents entered.

“Thirsty?”

Buffy and Spike nodded, and Callie poured three tall glasses of iced tea for them. She sat on an oaken chair, and nodded for Buffy and Spike to do the same.

“So, you aren’t just here because of Aunt Willow, are you?”

Buffy looked at Spike, and shook her head, her eyes tearing up. He wrapped his hand around hers as he turned to their daughter.

“No, poppet, ‘m afraid not. We’ve never been able to keep anything from that brain of yours, have we? Smart as a whip, my girl is.”

“It’s the prophecy, isn’t it, Papa?”

“Yeah.”

Callie sighed.

“So, what now?”

“Well, we aren’t entirely sure, but we think….”

“We think you’re in grave danger, Callie,” Buffy interrupted. “I think…I think we all are.”

“Why, Mum?”

”Oh, God, Callie…I can’t even…I don’t want to even think about it.”

Comprehension flashed across Callie’s face.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

Buffy somberly nodded.

“It’s the new Slayer, Callie…she…the prophecy says that if you don’t destroy her…then you’ll….”

“Then I’ll what?”

Buffy buried her head in Spike’s chest, her broken sobs ripping his heart out.

“Then the two of you’ll kill us all, poppet.”

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