Chapter 10! It's been almost a year since I've gotten this far into a fic, and I owe it to all your wonderful encouragement. As always, thank you! :)

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The slayer base is unexpectedly large. Granted, it's nothing in comparison to the old training area in Scotland, but Buffy hadn't expected a mansion of quite this magnitude, sprawling lawns nearly a quarter of a mile long stretching out to greet them and a wrought-iron gate towering over them high enough to lock out even a slayer and her vampire. 

Spike lets out an impressed whistle. "Looks like the littlest brat got herself some funding."

"The littlest- No, Kennedy was always well off," Buffy informs him, remembering the other slayer's early days in Sunnydale, back before she'd cast off her spoiled roots. "I guess...maybe this is her house?" 

"Could be." Spike isn't nearly as terse with her as he'd been prior to their first stop, and she's relaxed, too, the relief that the dreaded first visit with Angel and Faith is behind them giving them both a sense of liberation that's almost alien to the set of restless blondes. And Buffy isn't allowing the dread of seeing others whom she'd failed to overwhelm her, not when she's already been drained of all the emotional energy she can carry on a single day. 

So she grins perkily at Spike and hits a buzzer affixed to the gate… 

A voice, vaguely familiar even through the buzz of static, comes back through the speaker almost immediately. "-No, Jess, you can't take over international patrols! There are six other girls on line, and just because you have an in with- Hang on." The girl's voice is suddenly directed at them. "Hello?"

...And her determination to avoid any more self-directed regrets comes crashing down the moment she places the voice. "Satsu?"

"Hello?" Satsu repeats, sounding irritated. "Who is this?"

"It's..." Her voice trails off just as recognition dawns in Spike's eyes and he nearly chokes.

"That Satsu?" Now he looks positively gleeful, and she swats him on the back of his head and turns back to the speaker. 

"It's...uh, it's Buffy. Buffy Summers," she clarifies, though she doubts Satsu needs the elucidation. 

There's nothing but silence on the other end, and slow doubt begins to build. If there’s one slayer out there who'd let her in, it'd be Satsu. Then again, if there’s one slayer who has reason to reject her outright...

"In the interest of safe relations with the slayers, you'd better tell me what exactly happened with her," Spike says seriously, and she wonders if he's even noticed that they're locked out, or if he's still in the lustful haze that seems to envelop him every time Satsu's name comes up. "In precise detail."

"Spike..." she says warningly. He's done this before, at least once a week since Xander had let the details of her tryst with the other slayer slip months ago, and she's still regretting explaining the situation to him. 

She stares up at the closed gate. "She might hate me."

"Don't see why she would," Spike retorts. "You shagged, but you never lied to her about how you felt. S'fair, and if she can't handle that, s'her own bloody fault." There's a bitter edge to his voice, and she turns to him, immediately concerned.

"Spike-" But there's nothing to say to that, not when he's lost to old self-hatred, so she reaches over to wrap an arm around his waist and lays her head on his shoulder. "Don't." They're both tactile people, communicating with touch in ways they've never quite been able to in words, and she can tell from the way he reaches to her that he's understood.

The past is the past.

We've both done wrong.

I forgive you.

He nuzzles her ear and she knows that he's fine when he murmurs, "So, is she the best you've ever had?"

"Spike!" She whacks him on his side hard, outrage blending with amusement. "Shut up."

"It's a perfectly valid question!" he protests, leering through his pain. 

"In what dimension?" She is so not going to give him the answer he wants. Never in a million years. It isn't even true.

-Except for that first night, taking down that house. That had been more memorable than even the space-sex last year, which had been oddly foggy even while it was going on and she hadn't felt like herself during. Or, well, that time with the cuffs had been something, that fearful moment when she'd realized that she trusted Spike with her life more than she trusted herself with his not withstanding. And there had been all the badness that had surrounded their trysts to darken them, but once a year had passed and she'd realized that she lov… that she considered him a friend, she'd found that she remembered them with ever-increasing fondness. 

"Pet." Spike is nudging her. "You're all glazed over." 

She blinks back to his smirking face. Yeah, he knows what she's thinking about. 

"Angel isn't that good," he mumbles, the protective smirk firmly in place. 

Or not. 

And she's tempted to let it go, but the old fears aren't nearly as strong as her need to force that insecurity from his gaze. "How would you know?" she demands. "And besides, I wasn't thinking about Angel," she tells him, and the wonder that envelops his eyes makes something warm uncoil in her heart. 

"You really..." His voice trails off, and she's starting to feel uncomfortable. So what if he'd always been her favored partner? He’s sexy and adventurous and considerate, and he had always been fully aware of those facts. This shouldn't come as a surprise to him. 

She turns away, sighing with relief at the distraction. "Hey! Guess Satsu doesn't hate me after all." The other slayer is walking toward the gate, her stride brisk and businesslike and a companion struggling to keep up. "Wait, isn't that...?"

"Bugger," Spike mutters. "Not him!"

Andrew reaches the gate just as Satsu opens it silently, and he immediately throws himself into Spike's arms. "You're back again, here to deliver us from peril! He ever returns, a dark knight drawn to embrace the light!" he says triumphantly.

Buffy and Satsu stare, bemused. Spike apparently decides that he's had enough when Andrew's arms tighten around his back, and he bats him away immediately and hurries to hide behind Buffy. "Oi!"

"He was just saying hello," Buffy reproves him, not bothering to conceal the laughter in her voice. 

"I hate you," Spike grumps, and Buffy's still grinning when she turns to Satsu.

"So...uh, what did Andrew mean by peril?" 

Satsu eyes her coolly, whatever affection had once been there gone, and Buffy's stomach drops. "That's really none of your business."

Buffy glances to Spike for support, but he's too busy ogling Satsu, his eyes roaming over her body with unrepentant glee before he turns and does the same to Buffy. 

"When you're done," she says primly, her cheeks rouging despite herself at the way he's looking her over. 

"Not yet! Nearly have a mental picture." Spike pouts attractively, and she reddens further. 

She elbows him with extra force and turns back to Satsu. "Look, we're trying to help. If you're in trouble, we can do something."

Satsu folds her arms, unimpressed. "What, try to destroy the world again? You show up with another vampire boyfriend while our girls are dying slowly, and we're supposed to think that you'll bring us anything but more disaster?" Her hostility is borne from more than just righteous anger; there's also a pain unique to personal betrayal that Buffy recognizes well. 

"I'm nothing like Angel!" Spike protests immediately.

"He's nothing like Angel!" Andrew echoes. 

Buffy ignores them both, latching onto the one important thing that Satsu had let slip. "Did you say girls are dying?"

Satsu doesn't respond. 

"Weird pattern on their bodies?" Buffy presses on. "No leads? Getting weaker and weaker?" Satsu pales. "It's killing Faith, too."

She sees the moment when Satsu surrenders, when she sags in her place and looks down at Buffy with bleak weariness. "You'd better come inside."

--

The slayers are staring.

She doesn’t blame them. It isn’t every day that the bane of the slayers walks through their halls, accompanied by a vampire who screams danger, their arms bumping with every step and their guides stony-faced as they lead them through the house.

Andrew’s still there, and Buffy’s surprisingly grateful for that. He’d been one of them for long enough that she thinks of him as family, and even now, he doesn’t seem to hold the same grudge as the others do. 

She’d asked him about it when Satsu had gone to find Kennedy to invite Spike in, and he’d shrugged easily. “You screwed up. All great heroes screw up. The Enterprise were the ones who brought the Borg to the Federation. Han Solo was trapped in carbonite. I helped Warren try to kill you. It’s all part of your heroic quest for victory.” He darts a glance at Spike, who’s smiling a genuine smile at him that makes both Buffy and Andrew melt. “You’re the good guys.”

He’d said it with such conviction that she’d nearly hugged him, and even now, she can’t wipe the grin off her face whenever she looks at him. There’s something about Andrew’s hero-worship that’s reassuring in this world where everything’s changed, and his understanding is more potent than even Spike’s. Andrew is just another innocent bystander to the Twilight fiasco, after all, and his forgiveness means more than she can express to him.

“That’s where the girls train,” Andrew chatters, gesturing toward a large ballroom. Several of the slayers turn to the door to gape at them, and Buffy stares back, mustering up a smile that feels like more of a grimace. She recognizes too many of these girls from the final battles, from the higher-ups who’d had their own cells or individual missions. These are the girls still dedicated to the mission, even after Buffy had turned so many of them away from it. These girls are still slayers.

“You’re all here in England?”

Kennedy turns around from where she’d been walking with Satsu for the first time, the same bitterness on her features that Buffy had seen back before she’d left, when Buffy had pleaded with her not to leave Willow. “We still have the Council resources at our disposal. Our slayers are deployed everywhere.”

“Oh. That’s, um…that’s pretty impressive.” She can’t think of more to say, so she smiles awkwardly at the other girl.

Kennedy gives her a frosty look. “No thanks to you. But at least next time you try to destroy the world, we’ll be ready to eliminate you first.” She tosses a withering glare at Spike. “Just let us know before you fuck this one.”

She’s opening her mouth to retort when Spike beats her to it, moving forward so quickly that he’s just a blur until Kennedy’s pinned against the wall, a furious vampire at her throat. “You don’t talk to her like that!” he snarls, his face so contorted that Buffy thinks he might go into vamp face right there, in Slayer Central.

Satsu takes a step forward, three slayers who’d been in the hall now right behind her. Andrew fidgets uncomfortably. Buffy chews her lip, considering. “Spike…”

He growls irritably. “No! She has no right to-“

“Spike.” She puts extra calming force into her voice, moving to lay a hand on his shoulder. “Forget it. She isn’t worth it.” Kennedy’s angry and hateful and probably still blames her breakup on Buffy, but she isn’t worth losing the kinda-support of the other slayers over. And with the occasionally volatile Spike as her sidekick, it’s up to Buffy to be cool-headed, big-picture girl.

Thankfully, he’s just as intelligent when he isn’t defending her honor, and he shoves Kennedy at Satsu and returns to his spot beside Buffy. She squeezes his wrist and glares at Kennedy, daring her to say anything more. 

Instead, it’s Satsu who speaks. “That was out of line,” she admits, and Buffy’s nearly certain that she’s talking about Kennedy, not Spike. “Let’s just…let’s get you to the girls.”

Kennedy turns on her heel to accelerate away from them immediately and Spike quickens his step in response, leaving Buffy and Satsu trailing after them and Andrew holding up the rear. There’s an uncomfortable silence, and Buffy finally blurts out, “We’re just friends.”

“Hm?”

“Spike and I,” Buffy clarifies. “Just so you…I mean, the slayers…just so you guys know.”

Satsu turns to her, and there’s a sad smile on the other girl’s face that brings a lump to Buffy’s throat. She doesn’t want to hurt Satsu. Satsu is…Satsu’s always been special, her favorite, and that had nothing to do with sex or sexuality and everything to do with a young, idealistic fighter who’d have done anything for the boss she’d loved. Special. And someone else with whom sex had complicated the equation. “No, you aren’t,” Satsu murmurs. “I’m not blind.” 

She moves to catch up with the others and Buffy hurries after her, flushing when Spike tosses her a wry grin. 

We are.

Her heart lurches. And I hate it.

She brushes aside the thoughts, annoyed at herself for them. When will she learn? When will she finally stop trying to bring lo-sex into the picture and ruin all they’ve struggled for until now? There might not be anyone in the world as suited for her as Spike is. But she’d rather live her life loveless and alone than lose Spike, and it’s past time to resign herself to that fact.

“Here they are,” Kennedy announces, pushing open a door, and Buffy steps inside, welcoming the distraction from her thoughts.

The room must have started as someone’s bedroom. There’s one large, four-poster bed to the far side, and a desk and dresser have been shoved into a corner to accommodate the other four cots set up in a row beside them. One of the girls is sitting up and reading a book, the latticework still crawling up her arms. Another is lying still, pale and drawn, her eyes fixed on the television set resting on the dresser. The last three are sleeping, tossing and turning and letting out pained moans as they succumb to the illness attacking them.

“Leah,” Buffy whispers, recognizing the closest one. Her former lieutenant looks to be in even worse shape than Faith, too weak to even roll over completely in her sleep. “She’s…”

“She came back from Scotland when she couldn’t figure out what had happened to her,” Satsu whispers. “At first, we’d thought that she had contracted it from something there, but then one of the girls from Kenya reported the same markings.” She nods toward the girl watching TV. “The symptoms are the same. But that’s about all that they have in common.”

“Aside from them both being slayers,” Kennedy points out.

Satsu frowns. “There’ve been slayers for forever. They don’t live long, but they’ve lasted longer than this without being infected.” Two sets of eyes move to regard Buffy, and she looks away, a slow dread mounting from where it had lain dormant since she’d heard about Faith.

Slayers had lasted for millennia untouched. Only now has that been threatened. What had changed?

Only Buffy, who’d made everything different. Who’d wreaked havoc on the magic of the slayer line and then had cut it off completely two years later. Who never, never thought of the consequences.

And now those consequences are going to kill all those who’d followed her.

--

“I don’t know,” Willow repeats for the third time. “I don’t know enough about the egg or the scythe beyond what I’ve told you already. The spell I did in Sunnydale wouldn’t have hurt them like this.” Now she sounds defensive, and Buffy hurries to placate her.

“I know. You did it perfectly, and everything’s been fine until now.” She sighs, slumping down on the couch. 

It had been a long day, made even longer by the endless trip back. She’d endured Satsu’s awkward goodbye and had given Kennedy her number, and even the hostile slayer had seemed gratified by that acknowledgement. “We’ll call you if we find anything out,” Satsu had promised, and Andrew had enfolded both Spike and her in a bear hug and promised to keep in touch.

Then she’d been alone with her thoughts again, snuggled against Spike on that hideous green couch of his that she kept meaning to force him to replace, watching a movie on his laptop and struggling to find the words to express her newest fear.

She doesn’t want to see the disappointment on his face, see his faith in her waver. So she’s silent and gloomy and when he drops her off at home and orders her to get some sleep, she makes a beeline for the phone and calls Willow. Willow will have answers. Willow always has answers.

Willow has no answers.

“There might be something,” Willow says hesitantly. “The scythe…it cracked in half when you broke the seed, didn’t it?”

She nods, then realizes that Willow can’t see her and mumbles, “Yeah.”

“Well…it could have corrupted the original spell. Or somehow been tied to the slayer essence. I don’t know.” Willow is silent, and Buffy can imagine her helpless shrug. “Without my magic, I can’t even try to find the essence of the scythe. I can try checking around online, but that’s about it.”

Buffy thanks her numbly and hangs up the phone. 

The seed had had to be destroyed. Spike has reminded her of this time and again. Even Xander has pulled her over on occasion and told her that she’d done the right thing. They’re both sensitive enough not to point out that it had had to be destroyed because she’d put the world at greater risk. 

It’s not like she doesn’t know that already. It’s not like she hasn’t spent hundreds of sleepless nights dwelling on it.

It’s not like tonight isn’t going to be one of them.