It wasn’t long before Spike caught up to Buffy in the corridor and together they continued on to Angel’s office in comfortable silence. It was a silence forged from years of mutual acceptance and the gaining of trust in and for one another. It had been a long painful road for them both, but she wouldn’t change a single thing—monstrous potholes, heavy construction, notorious road side ditches and all. After all this time, after so many false starts and abysmal endings, she was finally with someone who accepted all of her—the good, the bad, and the way ugly. True, in the beginning Spike was the major cause and had loudly rejoiced in the latter two. But in the later years, while at times he was still the cause, he’d also witnessed and experienced these with her first hand. Yes, each of them was a bit worse for wear, but every experience brought them to this point in their lives—or unlife as the case may be—both separately and together. And this meant something. Actually, this meant everything.

 

And it was together they entered Angel’s office. As almost on cue, the steady humming of chatter stopped abruptly among those seated around the table and all their gazes moved from one another to them, or more accurately, to her. Unsure what else to say or do, Buffy offered up a small wave and a tight-lipped smile.

“Hey, guys.”

Like a poorly orchestrated tennis match, one by one each pair of eyes shifted from her to Wesley. Who, clearly out of necessity from his earlier ‘foot-in-mouth’ fiasco in which she knew everyone was still talking about until they interrupted, stood and headed in her direction looking sheepish. “Um…may I have a word, Buffy?”

She nodded, and then watched Spike head off toward the others. Sure, Spike was putting on a good show by dusting off his long-forgotten Victorian gentilities by giving Buffy and Wesley space to talk, but she knew better. Spike was an A-plus eavesdropper and she had no doubt he’d be listening in the whole time. With a slight shake of her head, Buffy turned and faced Wesley. She knew instantly, going by the look of pure guilt he wore, he’d prepared a lengthy apology—one of watcher-sized proportions. Being that she was so not in the mood, she decided to take the lead. Not wanting him to start the snoozefest before she had her say.

“Wes, I know we haven’t exactly seen eye to eye in, well, ever. And I get that everything you’ve learned about Slayers was through the Council. Well, the tweed brigade and a crash course with me and double-agent slayer, who hooked up with a germaphobe Mayor slash big ol’ snake demon that tried to chomp down on my whole graduating class. Which I’ll totally give you, was screwy for your first gig. I get that. But you need to understand, the Council was wrong about a lot of things. Slayers, demons, souls…and that’s just the tip of the Titanic-size evil iceberg. Believe me, they got it way more wrong than they got it right.”

Buffy watched Wesley’s expression of guilt changing into one of understanding. “I’ve experienced and accepted many things, during my time away from the Council. I thought I had grown well beyond their stilted, misguided thoughts, but I was mistaken. For this I am deeply sorry, Buffy.”

“Thanks, Wes.” Buffy looked toward the table. Just like she called it, Spike was watching them. He wasn’t even trying to look like he wasn’t or apologetic that he was. Not like the rest of them who were all the sudden busy not spying, by shuffling papers, reading, or taking in the sights of the room. After she gave Spike a soft, knowing smile, she turned back to Wesley. “So, I’m ready to hear the rest. Well, I am if you’re ready to tell me.”

Wesley nodded, and he and Buffy returned to the table and settled in. While Wesley stood at the head of the table, he started absently shifting through his notes. He looked completely unsure where or how to begin without causing her to freak out—again.

Buffy offered him a smile trying to ease his discomfort. “Wes, don’t worry about it. I filled my dramatic storming-out quota for the day. Go ahead, give it to me.”

Wesley nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes, well, the battle between the Powers and the Old Ones was long and brutal, however, as you all well know, in the end mankind won. The Old Ones were captured and banished for all of eternity to a mystical prison known as the Deeper Well. All, that is, except for the one called Maloker, who is also known as the Prince of Nightmares, Ambrogio in The Scriptures of Delphi, and by the ancient Mesopotamians as The Seven Demons. Like most of the Old Ones, Maloker refused to go quietly. However, unlike the others, he evaded imprisonment by raising an army. An army of vampires.”

Wesley opened the book and quickly skimmed the page. When he found what he was looking for he started reading, “Our time is at hand. Our Father shall reclaim his rightful place upon the throne of flesh and bone. All who remain shall quake with fear. And their blood cleanses the Earth and feed the night.”

Wesley looked up from the book and scanned the group. “The Powers that Be learned of Maloker’s plans and guided an extremely powerful coven to cast a spell that essentially sealed away Maloker’s entire army far away from his final resting place.” Wesley cleared his throat, his finger marking the spot where he read from next, “The valley of the sun interns our Father’s formidable army. In the bowels of the Earth, they lay in wait. ‘Til the blood of mankind flows into the mouth of hell. As from beneath they devour and feast, the bringers of the end to all of days will be freed.”

“Sunnydale,” Angel said the town’s name—half in wonder, half in disbelief—as he looked around the table. His evident shock was mirrored in the others’ faces, Buffy’s especially.

Spike caught on to Angel’s line of thinking and added, “So this Maloker was not only the be-all and end-all of sires, but he was also the Commander-in-Chief responsible for—”

“—the Turok-Han.” Buffy’s stomach felt as if it was bottoming out and she was really close to not only tossing her cookies, but cake, pie, and any other round-shaped toss-worthy desserts.

Wesley shifted as he leafed through his notes. “Ah, here it is. As Maloker was raising an army of nearly indestructible vampires, he’d set another plan into motion. A failsafe to ensure if he and his army were defeated, his demon would live on through the same beings set on his demise—man. Just as with many of the other Old Ones, Malokar’s demonic influence survived and continued to be felt despite his imprisonment in the Deeper Well. To this day, his living essence is carried on through the demonic energy of every vampire sired.” He turned several more pages and began reading again, “Our Father bestowed two gifts eternal—one man, one woman—Archaeus and Lilith.”

Wesley’s gaze shifted back and forth between Angel and Spike, then landed and stayed on Buffy. “By all accounts, it appears Maloker sired Archaeus and Lilith, who essentially became the Adam and Eve of all vampires.”

“So I’m guessing by how busy I am on the reg, these two weren’t exactly slackers. Instead of you know hanging out, exchanging apple recipes and fig-leaf couture; they were more the over-achievers in the ‘go forth and multiply’ department.” Buffy humorlessly chuckled, her off-beat wit falling flat as she eyed the book and then Wesley.

“Yes. While Archaeus and Lilith remained together for well over a century, they alone sired possibly hundreds. And their childer sired hundreds more and so on, to infinitum.”

“So not only was this bloke and his chit juiced up on pure demon blood but on top of that, their sire was the father of all vampires? Had to be damn near invincible, this pair.” Buffy watched Spike glancing worriedly over at Angel, who returned his concerns and thoughts with a slight nod and a flash of dread in his eyes.

“But I don’t get it,” Buffy insisted. “If double-trouble were all that, why haven’t I heard of them before? I mean, it’s not like vamps don’t exist unless I know about them, but I gotta say, as the slayer with seven years on a pretty active Hellmouth, there’s no way Giles wouldn’t have taken that opportunity to bore me with some long-winded history lesson. Or at the very least we’d have run into some groupies from the ‘I love Archy and Lili fan club,’ seeing as how the way vampires show their love for their bosses tends to be more of the dead bodies and self-immolation type of love, less than, you know, a nice fruit basket or something.” Buffy looked toward Spike, then back at Wesley, hoping someone had the answers she was searching for.

“I’ve, ah, never come across any writings on Archaeus or Lilith before today. I’m assuming Mr. Giles hadn’t either.” Wesley turned several pages, cleared his throat as he glanced down at the spot he bookmarked. “However, I believe this might shed some light on why, at the very least, Lilith never made her way to Sunnydale.” “She was torn from Him, as flesh from bone. Weapons of day and magick, power of three brandished. And the blood of His blood espouses vengeance forevermore.” “If my translation is correct, it seems from this and several other passages I’ve found, Lilith was at one point in time captured…”

In that instant, something just clicked. It all made sense now: Her strength. Agility. Super-fast healing. The hunting. The tinglies she had when one was close by…

“Power of three? It was Lilith, wasn’t it? It was Lilith’s essence that the Shadow Men used to make the first Slayer.”

Buffy felt all the color draining from her cheeks, yet she felt flushed, overheated. Every sight and sound around her was crystal clear. Razor-sharp. But at the same time everything was hazy and muffled. Off in the distance she heard Angel order everyone to finish translating the book…now, and Cordelia making some off-handed comment about a vision and Buffy having fangs. And in the midst of the swirling confusion, Spike was calling out to her. She ignored him, too trapped in her own flood of emotions and thoughts. Well, she had ignored him until he reached out to her. Then lightening quick, her hand shot out reflexively, knocking his hand aside. She simply couldn’t let him touch her. Not now. If he had, she’d explode. This was all too much.

“I mean I knew. I always knew deep down there was some connection. Long before the vision quest with complementary bad special effects swirly-black-cloudiness. I knew the Shadow Men used a demon to make the First Slayer. I just never really thought about what kind or where it came from. But it makes sense, now that I know, know. You know?”

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, almost before she’d realized she was speaking at all. She wasn’t sure if she was making sense, and even less certain that she cared. She looked everywhere but nowhere at the same time while her mind bounced from thought to thought, never settling on one for too long before more took its place. Then without warning, one question struck sharp as a blade and nothing else mattered, only this.

“Am I a vampire?”

For several moments the question hung in the air; creating a tension so heavy it almost embodied a life of its own. Spike reached out and took her hand. This time she welcomed his supportive touch which grounded her as she waited for the answer. With the way he was reassuringly squeezing her hand and by the way he looked at her, this silent encouragement spoke volumes. She could practically hear him telling her that she was ‘daft’ for considering for one moment she was a vamp and that ‘he knew evil’, and ‘she wasn’t and would never be’. His touch told her everything was alright, regardless of the outcome. Now she was ready to hear Wesley’s explanation.

“Ah, yes, well, the slayer is only the essence of the demon, not the demon itself. When a slayer is called, who they were before isn’t replaced or displaced by the essence. Your personality, your beliefs, your soul, it all remained intact. As you know, this is not true for vampires. And of course you lack all the common features associated with vampirism: the aversion to sunlight and holy items, the fangs and deformed facial features, the immortality and the lust for human blood.”

“Okay, not a vampire then. I have just your standard demon essence thingy, kinda like having a gene for green eyes or a big boobs or something equally geney. That’s good, right?” Then she looked at Spike, and tried to amend, “I mean not that being a vamp is—”

Spike tightened his grip on Buffy’s hand. “It’s brilliant, luv. Never expected anything to the contrary.” Spike turned his focus on Wesley. “So now we know where slayers come from, riddle me this Percy, how exactly do those Council buggers keep tabs on them? Always found that bit of a nut I couldn’t quite crack.”

“Ah, well, you all might find this quite interesting. When Lilith was captured, the Shadow Men extracted most of the demon’s essence, which was imbued into the first Slayer and eventually partially dispersed among the potential slayers. In most instances, besides the dreams of past slayers, this essence lay dormant in the uncalled potentials. When this girl died, in the case of the Slayer, or reached adulthood, as is usually the case for potentials, the essence she held was passed on to the next potential. It’s been this way for centuries.

“For the remaining part of the essence, some was used to sustain Lilith’s body, while the rest was used to locate and track the slayers, both potentials and active alike. The Council confined Lilith’s essence within a map, inside a mystically fortified glass case housed in the bowels of the Council’s building. Through this the Council was able to accurately locate around the world every slayer and dispatch a watcher to where she was.” Wesley shifted and looked around the table taking in everyone’s off-put expressions, he muttered, “Or not. I found it interesting, at any rate.”

“So you’re saying they used Lilith as a kinda slayer Lo Jack, huh? I gotta tell you, so liking these guys less and less.” Buffy kept her anger under check. She knew getting mad wasn’t going to solve anything and she had promised to behave. Taking a steadying breath she continued, “By how the Shadow Men were trying to give me a booster shot of Lilith’s essence to fight the First, I’m guessing she’s still around, right?”

“Yes, but she’s not on this plane of existence. Since the First Slayer was called, the Shadow Men are using powerful majicks to protect and preserve Lilith’s physical body in order to ensure the slayer line will continue on. If by chance Lilith were somehow dusted or freed, her essence would abandon all other beings it inhabits and reunite with its original host. The natural state of one’s essence is to be whole, not fragmented.”

“That was the First’s plan all along.” Angel stood and started pacing. “It must’ve started after Buffy drowned. She split the line, and then there were two active slayers. The First had to have known there was a potential for more. A whole army more. That’s why the First tried to get Buffy through me. Probably figured if Buffy died, the original slayer line would’ve ended and possibly taken the new line with it as well.”

Buffy watched Angel pacing, her mind quickly meeting up with his as she finished off his train of thought, “And when that didn’t happen, The First laid low waiting for another chance. That explains why last year the Harbingers slaughtering all those potentials. By these girls dying, it freed Lilith’s essence. And if The First had had its way, when there was enough pieces put back in the Lilith puzzle, she would’ve been strong enough to fight back.”

“And in turn, end the slayer’s line once and for all,” Spike added then gave Buffy’s hand a final reassuring squeeze before letting go.

Buffy felt instant loss of his touch, but the feelings it had evoked stayed strong as she pushed on. “So lucky for us, the First’s off licking its wounds, waiting for another opening to get all taunty again. At least this time we’re way ahead of the game. Not like The Trio of Doom helped any during my almost one-way visit to Thunderdome. And can I say for the record, so, so hate that cryptic, riddle-me-this BS with a passion.”

All eyes fell on Angel briefly, and then returned to Wesley as he added, “No doubt the First will make another attempt. Evil never stops. It just keeps trying until…”

At that precise moment Harmony walked in. “Excuse me, boss?”

Angel stopped pacing and looked at Harmony, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed; clearly he was irritated by the interruption. “Not now, Harmony.”

“Ok, but do I get the afternoon off, too?” Harmony flipped her hair off her shoulder and with her hip cocked to the side; she already looked bored with the conversation going anywhere beyond a ‘yes’.

Interest clearly piqued, Angel approached Harmony. “What are you talking about?”

“Everybody's gone. The whole building cleared out a few minutes ago. Some sort of code seven or something or other.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking code seven isn’t a good thing, Angel.” Gunn stood from the table and hurried to the phone to call security.

Angel turned toward the rest of the group, his face shifting from man to demon. “We need to find Eve. Now.”

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