It seems I have been remiss in updating here. So look forward to four more chapters within a few days.



If he squinted his eyes in just the right way, he could make out each individual wave as it glistened in the sun. If he wanted, he could probably count all the ships they had passed over, or watch the in-flight movie. He didn’t want to do any of those things, though, so he kept his eyes closed. Letting his mind wander over the things he had seen in the past few years, instead.



Out of what Rogue had told him, he had reached a few conclusions and knew what he had to explain about his recent adventures. Apparently, they all knew about the LA battle with Wolfram and Hart. What nobody had known, though, was what had happened afterwards. The parallel universe, the hopeless battles, the friends he had made along the way and the ones he had lost.



Gunn had been a good friend and an even better enemy. Always keeping them on their toes, always coming up with some plan that thwarted all they tried to accomplish. It really paid off to know your enemy. In desperation, they had to resort to immense sacrifices in order to win the war.



What to do regarding Connor had been one of the hardest things to decide upon. The signs had been clear, but Angel would have none of it… at first. Eventually they had to drag the poor boy into their universe and put him to use as the Destroyer again. The kid had done a right good job of it, too.



A lot of their allies, some friendly demons and a few of the remaining humans had died in those two years of hell, but neither side was able to get the upper hand. Gunn, despite the constant influx of WRH cronies at his disposal, couldn’t dislodge the Aurelians or Lorne. They’d needed something pretty powerful to break the stalemate. How ironic that something so important was in the guise of something so trite. An old broom to sweep away all the vamp dust.



Maybe if it hadn’t been for that broom he wouldn’t be here right now, in this plane, on his way to meet the woman he had tried so hard to forget. However, Red had seen him and the broom had worked as it was intended to and they had won. Gunn was banished and his spirit was replaced by Wesley’s ghost. The now undead former Watcher decided to remain in that world with Illyria, after she decided to make it her domain. The two of them having reached an understanding of sorts as to what each meant for the other. Lorne almost lost everything, too, including one of his horns, but finally remained there as well. And the fans continued to cheer him on.



After they sent the broom on its merry way back to Sighisoara, the two vamps and Connor had taken the leap back to their reality, only to have that reality altering itself around them. Throughout his stay in the other realm, Spike’s demon had changed, though. Both from his own experience and from what the Cleveland Slayers told him, he wasn’t registering on their senses as a Master Vampire, or even a vampire at that. He was different, unique. Right, as if that isn’t what you’ve been your whole unlife, mate? Unique. Just ‘cause I don’t have to snack on people and can stand the sun for hours, they’re willin’ to put up shrines. Like offin’ two slayers and loving another was a walk in the bloody park.



Nevertheless, Angel had been the one who suffered the most drastic change of them all. The bastard had Shanshued and was currently chatting up that Japanese Slayer that had been guarding the Hellmouth when they crashed through. There went any and all thoughts of star-crossed lovers and whatnot. The Poofter, after brooding for a couple of weeks, had been kicked back into living by the little spitfire of a woman. That Kasumi had even managed to get the Captain Forehead to laugh. The first time it happened, it had sent Spike, Connor and Faith into a research frenzy on account of it being a sign of an Apocalypse.



Not that Connor had been idle with the French Slayer. At first, the little bugger had flirted with half the Slayers there, but Julie had managed to get her claws into him and not let go. Now, if Spike’s nose was as reliable as usual, in about nine months, Angel would be a grandpa.



For the month Spike had been the guest of the Cleveland Contingent, as the Slayers there called it, all reports back to the Slayer base in Scotland were censored so that no news of the three of them would leak. It wasn’t the time for questions, recriminations and reunions yet. They used their time making sure the portal between the worlds was safe and checking in with the people they had left on the other side. One more thing they had found themselves responsible for was overtaking every WRH branch in the continental US.



After the LA battle, they had all been weakened, but the recent loss of their power-base in the alternate universe had meant that the once-powerful law firm was up for grabs. Other Slayer Contingents had been sent to deal with the international branches, but Faith’s group was put in overall command of the North America part of the operation. Kennedy was apparently in charge of South America, something Spike didn’t look too kindly on. Now that things were really looking up on all fronts, Angel and Connor had decided to remain with Faith. Spike, despite having made peace with Wood, had other plans, though. What had prompted this trip over the ocean was serious business.



They had sent the broom back to its original hiding spot during the final battle, but reports had come in that other forces had apprehended it. Spike had a gut feeling that it was about to get worse before it all got better again. And that was just the side-note. He was on his way to see Buffy.



Despite the years that had passed and everything that had happened, he had still had strong feelings for her. Strong feelings, he snorted inwardly, be a man and at least admit it, you love the bint. He’d had a few flings over the two years he had spent in the other world, but as the time when they would come back to their own world approached, Buffy’s image was constantly burned into his retina. Seeing Red in Sighisoara didn’t help matters one bit.



And Faith telling him about the decoy-Buffys and what had really been happening since Sunnydale really threw Spike for a loop. Now he didn’t really know how to react when he saw her, but he knew at least one thing. It was time for them to meet again. If only the world didn’t depend on him this time as well.



~~~***~~~



The sound of steps on the marble floor was the only thing that could be heard in the old Istanbul History Museum. The figure responsible for the noise stopped in front of a display with ancient weapons that had been presented to the Sultans as presents a long time ago. His desire was not to plunder, however, so he dismissed all the jewelry-encrusted shields and swords that adorned the display. His sights were firmly set on a more spartan looking weapon, made in rusty iron with just a few gold ornaments and faded writing encrusted on both the handle and the blade itself. All in all, not a really impressive looking thing; however, the fools had no idea of the power it carried inside. With practiced ease, he broke the glass and, ignoring the sirens, picked up the sword.



“Ah, Stefan, it’s time to help my family again, old friend. Your sword will once again bathe in the blood of the pagans,” the stranger said in an East European accented voice that rolled the Rs and stressed the Ss. With an evil grin spreading over his face, Vlad, better known as Dracula, vanished before anyone could even figure out what had happened.


~~~***~~~


Xander closed his cell phone, ending the call. He was frowning and his face had turned stony, his single eye giving it the quality of an old photograph of some battle-hardened soldier contemplating his next assault. The truth was not far from the image. Xander Harris had finally managed to take a few days off, or more accurately, the others had finally managed to trick him into taking a vacation. True to his word, he had grabbed Dawn and flown her to Romania, then driven her to Sighisoara, since both Willow and Alia had talked everyone’s ears off about the place since returning to base.



Now, with just two more days to go, things had to change. Who in their right mind started making mischief on a Friday? Didn’t anybody consider the weekend to be sacred anymore? The more riled up Xander got, the stormier his expression. A gentle hand touched his forearm, but he took no notice of it. The next thing he knew, though, was Dawn biting on his earlobe hard enough to hurt.


“Hey, was that truly necessary?” Xander asked trying to feign being upset, despite the grin that he was fighting back.



“You were off in your own little world and I want to know the scoop. What’s gotten you so worked up as to ignore me?” Dawn asked with a fake pout and a little jiggle of her torso, emphasizing the lack of a bra underneath her blouse.



“I wasn’t ignoring you, I was thinking,” Xander retorted while ogling the sway of her curves.



“Aah, no wonder I thought I smelt something burning. Now stop avoiding and spill. What’s wrong and how much of our vacation are we going to spend chasing down bad guys?”



Xander lunged towards her and grabbed her by the waist, raising her in the air and pressing his lips to hers in a passionate, yet curt kiss. “Apparently Drac resurfaced in Istanbul, or at least he’s our best bet for a sword that went missing over there recently. We have our people on it, but they’re hard-pressed, what with holding down the fort in the former Wolfram and Hart branch and everything. So since we’re so spread out, the Buffster was wondering if we could pass by there, just to take a quick peek.” While he talked, he continued to hold Dawn aloft and pressed tightly to him, despite her mock squirming that was giving him entirely different ideas about how to spend the next few hours.



“So the wanker decided to come back and bite us in the ass.”



“Well, actually I was planning on being the one doing that. As for wanker, sorry, still sounds weird when you say it.”



“Does not. And you perv!” Getting a mischievous glint in her eye, she continued “So exactly how late can we be?”


~~~***~~~



The water was enchanting that day. Every time Buffy stood in front of the old water fountain, she found something new about it. True, she could probably recite all the cracks and carvings by heart with her eyes closed, but the water itself was always different. Today a breeze coming over the plain gently nudged the spray to make it seem as if the droplets were dancing in the surface.



She always found sitting on the old stone bench to look at the water relaxing, ever since she moved in to the old castle. So whenever her duties as the Head Slayer (and didn’t that just sound plain wrong sometimes?) would allow, she would go to the garden and just watch. Seldom were the days when this did not lead to thinking about Sunnydale and all she had left there.



Now, since Willow’s return with the news that Spike was back somewhere, she had recalled everything they had gone through, from that first meeting behind the Bronze, to that last time, down in the Hellmouth. She felt lucky to have even the handful of truly good memories she had, like watching him sleep after one of their passionate trysts, or him holding her, making her feel safe when nobody else would have her. The wealth of emotion he betrayed when he looked at her was, in retrospection, evident for so long she sometimes felt stupid for not seeing it until it was too late. There were also the bad memories. Like the alley near the police station, the basement of the old high school, her bathroom… She wouldn’t trade any of it, though, for it had brought them to where they had been at the end: two old lovers so comfortable in each other’s presence that words were almost irrelevant. And she loved him, even if he didn’t believe her. No you don’t, but thanks for saying it.



Throughout the years since Sunnydale, Buffy had even tried dating once or twice, but what hope of any relashionship could the leader of all the Slayers and recently, due to Faith’s Intel, chairman of the new Wolfram and Hart. They were considering renaming it as soon as someone came up with a good enough name and they had enough people to effectively run all the subsidiaries.



Now Spike was back and he hadn’t sought her out. Why? All the Slayers had been alerted to be on the lookout for any news about him. So far, nothing conclusive had surfaced, especially with the added pressure going through all the WRH files added. They needed more people, as the Slayer’s Council was stretched to its limits. We sure could use you, Spike. Come back to me so I can kick your ass for leaving.



The water was enchanting.



~~~***~~~


“No, Andrew, you certainly may not tell Buffy about Spike and Angel. It is true, I might have erred on the side of caution when it came to their involvement with Wolfram and Hart, but opening old wounds would be to no avail. If and when we find something conclusive as to their destinies, we shall inform Buffy of everything, but I will not have you filling her mind with doubts and illusions. There is too much at stake for her not to be fully aware of her duties. Do I make myself clear?” Giles barked in the telephone on the top level of the WRH London offices.



“Yes, I understand, but what if he comes back and she finds out we’ve been lying to her all this time? I did find records here about their visit two years ago. Some other files point to what happened in LA. We can’t hold this from her forever. Other branches might have info as well,” Andrew retorted from the offices of Wolfram and Hart in Rome.



“We shall deal with everything as it plays out, but we will not be telling her anything as of yet, do I make myself clear?”



“Yes, Mr. Giles, I understand. But just imagine those two back together, doesn’t it give you goose-bumps?”



“I’m doing a right good job at not imagining that, thank you, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention it again. It was hard enough the first time.” And with that, Giles slammed the receiver, ending the discussion with the increasingly unreliable Andrew. If that boy tells Buffy, I will tear him limb from limb.