[A/N: Apparently, my muse is fond of marshmallow peeps. Sort of. And a little bit of rest. Go figure. Title and quotes are as attributed and disclaimers are still fully operative. ]

Previously: Dawn’s home from hospital, although still not recovered; Drusilla has been in the throes of a fit; and Jenner is at the Magic Box for his meeting with Spike. This picks up where we left everyone.

Book Two. Chapter 55 The shadow of power

The truth is that every intelligent man,
as you know,
dreams of being a gangster and of ruling over society by force alone.
Albert Camus, The Fall

After all, negotiations make strange bedfellows
The Simpsons, Last Exit to Springfield (#4.17)

Power never takes a back step - only in the face of more power.
Malcolm X, Malcolm X Speaks

Negotiations are a euphemism for capitulation
if the shadow of power is not cast across the bargaining table.
George Schultz


The clarion alarms ringing didn’t disturb the finally sleeping teenager, though it did rouse Tara. She’d drifted into a light sleep, sitting with Dawn, her mind filled with sad images and fears of what was coming and she’d been trying to calm herself, find her center and relax. She extricated herself from Dawn’s hold at the first sounding of the alarm and made her way down the stairs. The others could handle it, probably, since they were closer, but Tara . . . . . suddenly had a funny feeling, a sinking sensation in the pit of her belly.

“Don’t go out! Don’t open the door!” Her forceful out-of-character yell caught Xander’s attention with his hand on the doorknob, preparing to open it and check on what was attempting to breach the wards.

“Why not? What is that noise?” He stared at her, confusion rife on his face.

“Because. . . I . . . Just don’t open it yet.”

Anya popped around the dining room wall, watching the exchange, a dishtowel hanging from her hands. “Obviously she’s imagining something very bad trying to get in through the wards. Perhaps you ought to listen.”

“Wards? What wards?” Xander glanced from one person to the next, expecting an answer to his question. When none was forthcoming he pitched his voice a little higher and louder, but the others just talked over him, momentarily ignoring his distress.

Xander looked from one girl to the other, fully prepared to ignore both of them when Oz spoke. “Don’t. Whatever it is, isn’t good. And its not human either.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Oz looked up at Tara, who was still poised on the stairs, an impassive look on his face. “It got through the wards.”

“I know. We need to do something about it.”

Anya clutched the towel tight, wringing it between her hands. “What should we do?”

Tara thought for a minute, then walked down the few steps to the floor. “We take care of this, strengthen the wards, then let Buffy and Spike know.”

“So we take out bad guy at the door?” Xander was not at all happy with someone else taking charge and fought the urge to give Tara a hard time.

As a response, Tara moved to his side, gently pushing him away from the door. With a nod at Oz, Tara closed her eyes and concentrated. A wave of something powerful rose up from the floor, more sensed than felt or seen and passed through them into a focal point at Tara’s upraised hand through the door.

There was a subsonic growl of pain, a thud and then finally silence. Tara opened the door, letting only Oz out.

A few grunts and growls later, Oz was at the door again, his voice sounding muffled as he knocked, “It’s me.”

She opened the door, just wide enough to let him in. Xander stood just at the stairway, an expectant look on his face. “Well, what was it?”

“Not sure. Looked human, but it had orangey-skin and green blood. I stashed it in the back.”

“Kay.” Tara wandered into the kitchen, thinking heavily. How did this thing get through the wards? They should’ve stopped it. “This isn’t good. We’re gonna need to reinforce the wards before Buffy and Spike get home. Anya, can you give me a hand?”

“Sure. I’m happy to be useful. Were there any unusual markings on the demon? Did you get a look at its eyes?” Anya purposefully ignored Xander’s mutterings, turning away from his disapproval. “It’s a good thing you saved the carcass, that will make identification much easier. Rupert won’t be pouring over his old and sometimes inaccurate books all night.”

Tara fought the laughter her artless comments raised and started gathering the supplies to reinforce the wards.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Not a sound broke the silence, after Giles relayed his information about Bryn of Rhuddlan.

Spike held onto Buffy, not daring to look at her. Giles’ words, compounded by Jenner’s announcement, caused concern to flood through him. They’d had no validation of the theory Bryn or any of the other potentials had been mated to their vampires, until now. Jenner’s information indicated that pair had at least been mated. There was no other way they would have survived together for so long unless they were.

What this meant for them, Spike had no idea – only one thing kept echoing in his head – longer than just her shortened life span – they might have a chance at a real lifetime together; provided they got through the next couple of days. The memory of existing without her was still fresh in his mind, a sometimes gaping hole he sought to fill by holding her close, making love with her, bodies locked together in passion – and not just merely passion.

He dared a glance at her bowed head, wondering what was going through her mind. Sometimes, especially since their claim, he could feel what was passing through her head; at this moment, though, his own mind was so filled with confusion and hope that he couldn’t identify any of her thoughts. All he knew – all he was certain of was her fingers clinging to his biceps, her head resting against his chest.

Buffy’s free hand slipped between their bodies, covering her still flat belly. Though she wasn’t yet focused on the real implications of both announcements, she had latched onto one aspect. Suddenly the possibility of living until the baby she carried grew to adulthood wasn’t impossible. It was possible. She’d been filled with worry, before telling him, that someday in the perhaps not so distant future, she’d have to leave Spike alone with a small child. Now . . . . . Now maybe that fear might not ever come to fruition.

His hand dropped to cover hers, fingers meshing together. Buffy’s thoughts centered on their connection – the unbreakable, intangible one as well as the physical one – and a sudden wave of some indescribable emotion swept through her, washing away whatever worry she’d been carrying. Perhaps it was hope, she really didn’t know in that moment. It no longer mattered though, because she was going to have that time with Spike and their family – however big or small it might end up being. A small gasp, audible only to Spike sounded from her lips and a smile bloomed across her face when he dropped another kiss on her head.

Voices low and fervent drifted over them, yet neither paid them any heed. The last few days had been fraught with nothing but pain, despair and fear. Precious little time had they taken to console each other, so they grasped at it now. Seized the moment Jenner’s bombshell had given them and run with it, ignoring everyone around them.

By unspoken mutual agreement, they finally broke apart, yet not completely so. Their hands remained clasped, reluctant to let go, and together they turned to face their on-lookers, more than aware of Jenner’s almost amused expression.

“Could have taken you both before either of you realized what was happening.”

From almost out of nowhere, Buffy produced a stake, twirling it almost absently between her fingers. “Not hardly. Haven’t survived this long without keeping one eye always opened.”

The vampire’s gaze moved over the others and was hard-pressed to hide his surprise. Each and every one of the Slayer’s group had some sort of weapon in hand, poised for action.

He raised his hands, indicating he wasn’t going to attack, saying, “Relax, was just trying to prove a point, which actually didn’t quite work like I planned.”

A chuckle sounded from Spike, drawing all eyes to him. “That’s the thing ‘bout my girl. Nothing goes according to anyone’s plans. Always keeps ‘em guessing.”

“So I see.” Jenner paused, waiting for the weapons to disappear. “Can see why she caught your eye.”

Spike grinned, his next comment drawing a blush to Buffy’s cheeks. “Best bloody Slayer ‘ve ever fought.”

For the first time since entering the Magic Box, Hawkins spoke. “And how many is that now? By my count, this one makes nine.”

The blond vampire glanced between Buffy and Giles. “Does the island girl count?”

Knowing full well who he meant, Buffy shook her head. “Please, you fought Kendra for like ten minutes.”

Her look clearly said counting Kendra was pushing it, while Spike retorted with, “Would’ve counted if I’d offed her.”

“But you didn’t, Dru killed her.” Buffy’s voice softened and she looked away, memories of Kendra flooding her thoughts.

Silence reigned for a few moments, until Wesley cleared his throat. “You’ve fought nine slayers?”

“Yeah.” He had the grace to look chagrined, schooling his face to remain neutral. Given his present company, it was the wisest course of action. His next words though, slipped out before he really had time to think. “Pretty sure this is the last one though.”


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It had been more than thirty-six hours since Drusilla had been completely lucid. Even tying her up and keeping her drugged hadn’t calmed her much, only sire’s blood keeping her somewhat coherent. Angel had been trying to make some sense of all the whispers, knowing instinctually there was something vital eluding him.

Nearly two days, she’d been ranting, going on ceaselessly about strawberries and the king of cups – and it was slowly driving him insane. He normally could handle Dru’s fits and starts, but at this moment in time, he wasn’t in the mood to sit and decipher her cryptic messages. Angel was tired, achy and barely holding onto the frayed edges of his temper. He needed to strike back at the two blonds, eliminate both of them. He’d lose no sleep over dusting Spike, since he’d been nothing but a thorn in his side for years, ever since the Boxer Rebellion; and Buffy . . . . she needed to be taught a lesson.

it wasn’t that he wanted her – in fact he wouldn’t take Spike’s leavings now if he was given the world on a platter. But he wanted her to suffer. For everything. For making him feel – for making him want to be a hero – Angel shuddered, a crawling sensation shivering up the back of his neck. He’d hoped, with Cordelia, he and the two women could wreak havoc, once the she was turned. But the blond Slayer and her slave had stolen that from him. Instead, he was back to square one, trying to find Willow and with a crazed Drusilla on his hands.

The blood call had proved less than what he’d expected. Neither Toussaint nor Rebecca had any real desire to follow his orders, though for now they were playing along. Drusilla was indisposed for god knows how long and Jenner. . . . . Angel had no idea why the other vampire had even bothered. Their mutual dislike was a centuries old feud – something that occurred on their initial meeting. At least with Spike that really hadn’t happened until years into their relationship. He had a bad feeling about Jenner’s presence on the Hellmouth. More than once in the past, meetings between them had become confrontations and with almost every single instance, Angel had been forced to back down.

A low growling whine sounded from Drusilla’s throat, setting his teeth on edge. He’d sent Ray and a couple other minions to the hospital, with instructions to bring back sedatives. Since Drusilla was not responding to any entreaties to calm down, he was resorting to drugging her heavily. It was the only way he was going to get any rest.

More noises sounded from her prone figure and Angel could feel his aggravation growing.

“Shut up, Dru.”

She whined again, and he swung at her, his big fist landing with a sickening crunch in her side. “Enough, Dru! I’m going out.”

He stormed from the room, grabbing a shirt and his trench coat on the way out.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Papers were scattered all over the floor of her bedroom, post-it notes and highlighters piled next to her on the bed, as Willow tried to make sense of her notes. In the hasty move out of Buffy’s house to her parents, all her magical supplies had been carefully put into organized boxes; her paperwork was another story. It had all been pretty much dumped into one of two boxes, in no particular order.

The supply list was behind her, tacked to the wall with tape and she was now methodically going through each and every piece of paper in both boxes. The notes from the original spell were on an old computer printout, which she had yet to completely locate. Frustrated with her lack of success, her temper was beginning to fray and every so often, sparks would fly from the ends of her hair, arcing out like tiny electrified worms.

Had she bothered to look at herself, Willow might have been frightened by the changes. As it was, she couldn’t see the darkness seeping slowly into her eyes, the color leaching from her cheeks, nor did she see the growing sharpness of her usually soft features. She was also unaware of the changes in her temperament – the shortness of her temper and the all consuming anger she was beginning to feel. Anger with her situation – reduced to living once more with her parents, being ostracized from her once friends and lover, banished from the inner circle.

Anger consumed her thoughts, fueling the surges of misdirected energy crackling from her. Papers rustled beneath her fingers, tiny sparks arcing with each discarded sheaf. Willow began muttering imprecations under her breath, grumbling her frustration aloud.

This is all their fault . . . I never would have had to leave if they, if Spike had just minded his own darn business. He’s the one. . . . Buffy wouldn’t have turned against me, neither would Tara. But I can fix this. . . . . All I have to do is find this stupid spell, my notes. . . And I can fix all this.

Blaming all her current woes on Spike’s shoulders, Willow nearly shrieked when she found the translation of the gypsy curse. Doing a little shimmy and giggling madly, Willow sprung up from the bed.

Here’s the key! I can fix everything now. . . .

Overloaded with conflicting emotional energy, Willow’s thoughts careened from one extreme to another, while the electrical manifestation of her emotions gained power and frequency. Grasping her athame, Willow realized her error a split second too late.

The silver-handed dagger flared like a beacon, all the electrical circuits in the house shorted and everything went black.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“Sworn off fighting any more Slayers?” Hawkins couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice. Spike’s announcement caught him by surprise and he couldn’t help the question from exploding out of him.

“Fighting beside one is a bit more of a challenge.” Spike wasn’t about to let any of the other vampires present know about his handicap. With any kind of luck, it wouldn’t be much of an issue. While it might appear Jenner was willing to listen and at least entertain the possibility of remaining neutral, Spike wasn’t going to reveal their biggest weakness.

Bad enough Angel knew about it. Though so far he didn’t appear overly eager to exploit that knowledge.

“Never figured you for a turncoat.” For only the second time that night, Glynnis spoke, and the obvious disdain in her tone made Buffy tense.

Renewed tension filled the air and the atmosphere grew heavy.

“I’ve my reasons.” His abrupt dismissal of Glynnis and her attitude causied the female vampire to bristle. She stepped forward, growling low in her throat, but at a deeper, more menacing growl from Spike, halted her actions.

“Don’t mistake my fighting on the side of good for going soft.”

Wesley watched the exchange, realizing he was seeing something few humans ever got the chance to experience and survive. Right before his eyes, Spike’s entire demeanor changed, morphing from the affable man he called friend to the terrifying master vampire.

His body seemed to lengthen, supernatural energy suffusing his form with power. Power not even matched by the other master vampire. He’d never witnessed anything quite like this and Wesley was certain few of the others had either, even Buffy stepped back, though he had the feeling it was not out of fear. Rather, it was more giving him room to fight if it became necessary. Glynnis stepped back, moving closer to her sire, but at a motion from Jenner, she halted her movement, waiting for another signal.

“Leave it, Glynnis. It’s not your place.” Her defiance was visible and she bristled even more at being chastised in front of humans, but she kept her silence.

Spike looked to Jenner, then, with his patience at an end, asked the one question he’d wanted an answer to for the last twenty-four hours. “Have I got your word you won’t interfere with what’s coming between Angelus and myself?”

The older vampire waited a beat, weighing the question he knew was coming since Spike had asked for the meeting. Involuntarily, his eyes drifted toward the dark-haired Slayer. His personal involvement aside, the idea of Angelus being foolish enough to go against two Slayers when he’d never before exhibited any desire to face one – not to mention his unbridled arrogance and inability to see the bigger picture – Jenner had a feeling the people in front of him would do anything to defeat the threat looming against them. Could he stand aside and do nothing?

Angelus hadn’t asked for his assistance; he’d merely assumed Jenner would side with him, without providing any reason for Jenner to act.

On the other hand, could he stand aside and let the forces of good operate without impunity?

Faith looked him squarely in the eyes, her mouth in a grim line. There was more than just a dispute between Angel and Spike going on here, and everyone in the shop was aware of it. How they were going to jump was anyone’s guess. But she wasn’t going to try and influence Jenner, not when she had no idea how far his . . . . interest in her went. Faith knew exactly what her leverage was, and how little of it she really had, so it was pointless to even press the meager advantage.

There was a deep silence in the Magic Box, as if they were all suspended in clear amber, waiting for some signal to free them from their imprisonment. Jenner stared at Faith; while both Buffy and Spike watched the pair of them.

It was all down to Jenner.




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