“People are trapped in history, and history is trapped in them.” - James Baldwin

Edo, Japan: Genroku Year 4

Takeshi sat on the banks of the Sumida River, watching the lights of the Yoshiwara pleasure district where they were reflected in the water. What would have normally been a beautiful sight was obscured by the scene replaying in his memory.

Kaede would not see him. He should have been thankful that his wife still felt enough for him to not stake him on sight, but watching her grief ravaged face as she slid her door shut in his face had to have felt similarly.

What made matters worse was that she would not hear his message either. He had received word from Hideaki the night before that one of the priestesses at the great temple in Ise could help the slayer defeat Orochi. Unless their plans had changed, Ichiro would be taking Kaede to face the demon in a few days, and Takeshi had no way to convince them to take a detour past the Shinto shrine.

It was not in Takeshi’s nature to brood, but he was at a complete loss. He could not get to Kaede, and even if he did, she was more likely to kill him than listen to his advice. Attempting to contact Ichiro would be even more futile. The watcher still disapproved of his marriage to the slayer and probably saw his turning as fitting punishment for daring to wed his charge.

The priests and martial arts instructors who worked with Kaede would knew of his condition by now, so no one remained in the household who might invite him across the threshold. The slayer’s home was completely closed to him. And so the vampire sat, miserable, on the banks of the Sumida and tried to come up with a way to get through to his wife before it was too late.

His stomach growled and the demon he could feel inside of him struggled to come to the surface, but Takeshi forced both his hunger and his new nature aside. When he had risen two nights before, he had killed the other vampires in the nest and drained Sano, his sire, dry before dusting him as well. The revenge had not satisfied his aching bitterness and rage, but the elder vampire’s blood had managed to stave off the burning need to feed that had assaulted Takeshi’s senses. Even though the hunger tore at his insides and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to loosing control of the demon inside of him, he could not bring himself to feed from a human. The few animals he had captured had left him feeling unsatisfied and dirty. His training allowed him to ignore physical discomforts, but the dangerous lure of the demon coupled with the raw edge of his hunger were conspiring to rob him of his hard won control.

After hours of contemplating the dark river, Takeshi rose to his feet and started walking to the seedy hotel where he was staying. The streets were nearly deserted, which was a blessing. The sound of so many heartbeats and the smell of bodies packed together in the busier parts of town nearly drove him mad. All of his senses were amplified: sight hearing, smell, even taste and touch. He couldn’t stand the company of others for long and simply tried to ignore his new abilities, but that was proving as futile as his attempts to control his hunger.

The forces warring inside of him made it hard to think clearly, and so Takeshi wandered the streets of Edo, alone and torn. It was only when he stepped to the side of the narrow road to allow two horseback riders to pass that the solution to his problem came to the vampire.

Half an hour later, two bags of coins sat in the stables of a seedy hotel: one next to the dead and drained body of an old horse, the other in the empty stall that had held the animal he was riding at all speed down the Tokaido.

*****

His old mount was dead. After days of hard riding, it had finally stumbled, its broken legs signing its death warrant even before the tear of Takeshi’s fangs. He was still half a night’s ride from Ise, but with no horse, the trip would take even longer. After cleaning the blood from himself with a towel he found in the pilfered saddle bags with a disgusted grimace, Takeshi took up his sword and started down the road, settling into an easy lope that he knew he could maintain for hours.

He did not need hours though. The vampire skidded to a halt a few minutes later when his path was blocked by a large black horse, with what looked like a suit of armor tied on its back, and a shrine maiden, her bright red and white outfit vivid in the moonlight. The girl could not be much older than Tai, the girl who did Ichiro’s laundry, but she had an air of authority about her, and when she raised a hand when Takeshi neared, he felt compelled to obey her unspoken command.

The girl spoke with a voice that was too deep and powerful to be her own. “You are Takeshi.”

The vampire hung back, wary of the girl and the strange energy he could feel coming off of her. “Yes. I am bound for Ise. If you would let me pass…”

“You will never reach Ise in time. I am Ai. You have heard of me.” The last was a statement, not a question.

Takeshi nodded mutely in surprise and more than a little trepidation. Ai was a priestess of much renown, feared and loved in equal parts for her strange abilities as a shaman and seer. Hideaki had been evasive about his contact at the shrine, even fearful, but Takeshi had never expected this! It was said that the old woman could kill with a glance and possess other’s bodies, and Takeshi knew that he was facing evidence of that rumor.

The young girl laughed with the old woman’s voice. “Do not fear for Kieko, vampire,” she gestured towards herself, indicating the girl whose body Ai was using. “I cannot leave the Great Shrine, so she runs my errands for me and has volunteered for this position. No harm will come to her. Now listen.” Ai held up a small pouch and her voice lost all of its mirth. “You must take this potion to your slayer. She goes to a battle that she cannot win. I wish she had come to me herself, because you will not be able to carry the final weapon: the one that will kill Orochi forever. The potions are easily handled, but I fear that your body would disagree with an amulet blessed by Amaterasu.” The high priestess’ voice was laced with dark irony.

Takeshi snorted in ill humor before he caught himself. No, Amaterasu, the goddess of the sun, would not appreciate a vampire carrying her artifacts. His heart sank with the knowledge that his weakness, his inability to defeat or escape Sano and his minions, had more far-reaching consequences than he could have known.

“Do not fear, Takeshi. Orochi will be defeated, and he will be banished from this world for many generations, but the victory will come at a great cost. Here, take the potions, the armor, and this horse. I daresay she will carry you faster than your last one, but I would ask you to not eat her.” Takeshi took the bag and reins, and would have flushed a deep red had he been able, but the girl’s wide smile took away her words’ sting. “Take this as well.”

Before the vampire could react, the girl placed her hand on his forehead and her eyes flared a bright white. His body seized as he was held in the grasp of Ai’s magic. After a few moments, Takeshi could feel the tug of his demon, the voracious hunger and barely controlled need to destroy, fade to a mere whisper. Ai/Kieko released him, and he staggered back before grasping his head in awe and confusion.

“That should make your task easier. You are brave Takeshi, but you are still a fledgling. I am surprised you could control the hunger for as long as you have. Now go! And when the fight is done, send your slayer back to me. We have a great deal to discuss!”

Takeshi straightened to thank the priestess, but when he looked where Kieko had stood just moments before, she was gone.

A few minutes later, so was he, clad in new armor and riding as it to catch the wind.

*****

Sunnydale, California: 1999

Spike found himself standing on a bridge in what was very obviously a traditional Japanese garden. He had seen many such gardens in his time in Japan with Dru, and the style was unique. However, it was not the perfectly manicured grass or elegantly shaped trees that caught the vampire’s attention.

It was the sun.

His first reaction had been to jerk away and find shelter, but cold logic dashed his rising panic. He was not burning. Spike looked up into the sky and stared at the sun until his eyes watered and he started seeing spots. With his head still tilted back, Spike closed his eyes and let a child-like smile overtake his features. He had missed the warmth of the sun, one of a hundred things he had forfeited when he became a vampire so many years ago. To feel it touching his face, sinking into his skin, was like the touch of a goddess. Spike could loose himself in that caress.

Slowly sounds penetrated the vampire’s consciousness: the gurgle of running water, the sound of wind in the trees. However, the sounds of nature could not draw him out of his preoccupation with the sun. It was left to the heavy tread of a foot on the small bridge to do that.

Vampire!

Acting on instinct, he lashed out with the sword he realized was still in his hand. His eyes were golden as he watched his blade arc towards the intruder, only to be stopped by the metal guards on the other vampire’s forearm. When metal hit metal, Spike froze and tilted his head to one side.

Placid golden eyes set in ridged features met his own.

“Hello, brother.”

That was not the reaction Spike had expected. He lowered his katana to his side in surprise. “Who in the hell are you?” he finally blurted.

“My name is Takeshi. You are holding my sword.”

Spike took in the vampire’s garb, ancient Japanese armor, the hallmark of a samurai. Spike grinned as the idea occurred to him. “My sword now, mate.” As expected, the other vampire’s eyes flashed dangerously at that statement.

Gits take their weapons way to seriously.

Spike was disappointed when the vampire, Takeshi, mastered his rising anger and regained his air of placid calm. Part of him was simply itching to try out the blade in his hand. He sighed as he watched the chance of a good fight slip further and further away.

“So you’re what? Hauntin’ this blade? A spirit guide? My own, personal Clarence?”

“You could call me a guide. I am here to tell you how you and your consort can defeat Orochi,” was the Japanese vampire’s response.

Spike blinked slowly. “Who?” he asked at length.

“Your consort?” When Spike’s blank expression did not change, Takeshi continued. “I believe her name is Buffy.”

“What?!” Spike roared. Vague memories of the conversation he had overheard from the bathroom floated to the surface of his mind, but he forced them aside. “That self-important, insufferable little bint is not my consort!”

“Then why did the swords accept you?” Takeshi asked blandly.

“Because I agreed to help kick some demony ass, not because I give two cents for some chosen bird with delusions of grandeur!” Spike was really becoming incensed with his so-called guide. To imply that he and the slayer… Well, it was unnatural. It was unthinkable. It was perverse

It was right up his alley.

No!

With a growl, Spike threw himself at the other vampire, katana leading the way.

*****

“So, the slayer, huh?”

“Yes, but I was still human when I fell in love with my Kaede.”

“And where is she now?”

“We thought it best if we spoke to the two of you separately.”

Spike grunted from his seat on the grass. His gingerly touched a rising bruise over his right eye. It was some comfort that Takeshi was leaning against a Japanese maple, nursing what looked like a broken nose in his now-human face. The other vampire had disarmed him readily enough, but Spike found himself a more than adequate match for his opponent in hand to hand combat. Both vampires looked as if they had been hit by twin trucks.

“You’ve got a pretty mean right hook,” he admitted with grudging respect.

“And you are not so bad a fighter yourself,” the other vampire noted. “You will be more useful to your slayer than I was to mine. I was merely a fledgling when Kaede and I faced Orochi.”

“About the slayer?”

“Yes?”

“Does this,” he picked up the sword by his side and looked at its mirror finish, “really mean that the slayer and I are…? Well…” Spike stopped in the face of his rising embarrassment and insecurity.

“Without a doubt.” The other vampire’s simple statement sounded like a death knell in Spike’s head. He laughed: a bitter, desperate sound even to his own ears.

I really know how to pick ‘em.

First Cecily and her humiliating rejection, then Dru’s loyalty to her “daddy” and the mad vampiress’ many dalliances throughout the years, and now this. His mind simply did not want to accept it, even when Drusilla’s words echoed in his mind. “You’re all covered in her.”

Dru knew and she… No wonder she was so angry.

Spike stared dully at the sword he held across his lap. “So now what?” he asked, miserable in his dawning realization.

“Now, I give you this.”

Spike looked up in time to see Takeshi’s armored hand close over his right shoulder. Visions and words, too many for him to fully grasp at one time, flooded his mind. The information overload sent his consciousness into a downward spin. As he felt the darkness overtake him, he heard Takeshi speak one last time.

“Goodbye, brother. And good luck.”