Into the Abyss by Rainne

Disclaimers: Dakota and Mercedes belong to me; everyone else belongs to the Great Joss.

Summary: Buffy and Willow visit Faith and Dakota with disastrous results.

The sun was warm on the back of my neck as I lay on the green grass, looking up at the passing clouds, playing a child's game of What-Is-It. I examined each shape carefully as it blew past, thinking to myself, that one's a dragon; or, that one's a little man with six arms; or, that one looks like the profile of my lover as she lays beside me in sleep.

When I saw that one, I had to smile, because it really did look like her. There was the elegant nose, here an arched brow, and there a tiny shadow that seemed to suggest the dimple in her cheek. I sighed in contentment—a feeling I hadn't truly felt in years—and glanced over at my lover, who was lying next to me on the grass. She was not asleep, however; she was turned on her side, her back to me, watching a small plover bird flutter about nearby.

Two years in England have softened my lover quite a bit. She is no longer the hardened, bitter young woman she was when the two of us came to this place, she because it was her duty and an uncertain path to redemption, and I on a fluke that what had begun as a spark of attraction and a bit of lustful innuendo might turn into something real. Then, she was nervous and mistrustful, with a certain anguish hiding behind her easy grin. There was a great weight of guilt upon her then, which I think has been lessened somewhat by her work here. Because what she does is so important. Now, there is still a shadow of guilt there—I think there always will be—but it no longer consumes her as it does. Now, though she may occasionally cry out in her sleep, she is happy in her waking hours. She is content here, I think, with our children and with me.

I was looking at the sky again, thoughts weighing on my mind, when her lips caressed the back of my neck, bringing me back to Earth in an instant. Her arm came around me, and her voice burred behind my ear. "Whatcha lookin' at, Kotie?"

I smiled at her nickname for me and pointed at the sky. "Dragon," I replied. "The Anne McCaffrey kind, not the Chinese kind."

She looked up, tilting her head to the left and then to the right. "It's a duck, sweetie."

"Dragon." I grinned and kissed her back. "I suppose you're going to tell me it's time to go back."

She nodded, laying her head on my shoulder. "We've had our fun," she said. "Time to be a grown-up again. After all, Mrs. Katherine can only handle a houseful of rambunctious teenage girls for so long before she goes crazy."

I smiled at the thought of our pleasantly long-suffering Scottish housekeeper. Mrs. Katherine MacLeod, clan MacKenzie an' ye please, had come to us most highly recommended by a vicar from Inverness who knew of the Council and knew what we were attempting to do with the Academy. Mrs. Katherine, as she liked to be called, was experienced in dealing with children of the teenage variety, as the vicar had four and Mrs. Katherine had raised seven children herself. She was truly a godsend, especially with the more headstrong of our children.

"She's probably ready to tear her hair out now," I grinned, and the two of us gathered up our sun-warmed clothes from the pile we'd made nearby and began to dress again. Sometimes the only privacy we could get was out here in the hills, away from the house and the stresses of parenting forty-two rambunctious children; and sometimes we just came out here to make love in the sunlight, surrounded by nature and with the sweet smell of the wild places mingling with the scents of each other in the air.

And sometimes, I thought as we mounted our horses and turned towards the manor house, it just happened. As it had this morning, when we'd spontaneously decided to go for a ride and ended up spending half the day out on the ridge, loving each other as was our way. Not that I was complaining, mind you, but there were things that needed to be done. Such as forty-two rambunctious kids who seriously needed to be caught up in world history. But the morning and half the afternoon were gone, so today was a wash and the kids could take it as a holiday. There was so little true structure in our lives, mainly because we had decided from the beginning that we had no desire to become tradition-bound the way the Council once had.

The manor came into view as we rounded a bend in the trail and we found that the girls had already decided to take a holiday—several of the older Potentials were holding an impromptu competition on the south lawn. Most of the girls were in attendance, and I could tell that wagers were being passed among them. Not that any of them had pocket money to spare, but certainly things that came in care packages from home made good stakes, and there were plenty of 'my share of tonight's dessert' being offered as well, Mrs. Katherine's desserts being legendary in our house.

"Oh, look," my lover commented as we came closer to the gathered crowd. "Our new local girl is having a go at our exchange student."

We came up to the edge of the crowd and I saw that this was true. Our newest Slayer potential, Diana Wood of Staffordshire, was squaring off against Dawn Summers, and neither of them looked too happy about it. I dismounted and poked Mindy Taylor, one of our Partner trainees, who had come to us from Cheyenne, Wyoming. "Mindy. What gives?"

"Oh, it's a grudge match, Miss Dakota. Diana says she's a better fighter than Dawn because Dawn's a Partner."

I nodded. This was something that occurred once in awhile when we got in a Slayer potential with delusions of grandeur or, as in Diana's case, who was a minor noble. The regular girls, training as Partners, got plenty of fighter training; but new Potentials with rank at home, despite our best efforts, liked to try to pull rank at the school, too. When such as this happened, the better fighters among the Partners would make a point of drawing fire from the offending Potential, until enough insult had been thrown that the Partner called a grudge match.

Judging by the looks of things, Dawn was putting Diana in her place pretty quickly. They had arrived at the Academy together six months ago, and Dawn had blended easily into the background with the other Partners, but Diana had chosen Dawn to toss insults at. And Dawn had been trained by Buffy. And Dawn had a bit of a short fuse. I rather thought, observing the condition of the two fighters, that Diana was learning her lesson. In fact, she had just dropped to one knee, conceding the fight.

Dawn stepped forward and helped Diana to stand. The Potential studied her face carefully. "Who taught you to fight?" she asked.

A ripple went through the crowd at that announcement. Diana's eyes widened. "Buffy Summers? The Slayer?"

Dawn nodded. "Yes. My sister is the Slayer. And she taught me almost everything I know."

Diana put her hand out to Dawn. "You have my apologies for the things I've said," she stated formally.

I stepped into the center of the crowd then, and pointed at Diana. "You go to Miss Maisri and get bandaged up. Everyone else, take the rest of the day. But do it somewhere else. Get, now."

The crowd slowly dispersed, the girls going off in twos and threes to amuse themselves however they chose. Dawn, however, stayed with me. She grinned. "Kicked her ass," she said.

Faith nodded. "You oughta get on, too," she suggested. "I'm sure some of your dorm-mates will be wanting to pump you for info about B. After all, ya been holding out on 'em for six months."

Dawn nodded, grinned, and trotted off. I remounted and rode with Faith around to the stable, where we set about currying and rubbing down the horses. Done, we slipped inside and upstairs to our private quarters on the fifth floor, where Faith went in for a shower while I sat back to review the new brochure Faith and I were making up to send to prospective Partner students.

There was something in the way the brochure was set up that I really didn't like, but I couldn't identify exactly what it was. I was tempted to chuck the whole thing and start fresh. I put it aside and turned to the pile of mail on the side of my desk. Invitation, invitation, application, telegram. Telegram? It was addressed to both Faith and myself. I glanced toward the bathroom. "Hon? You through yet?"

Wrapped in a towel, she came out of the bathroom, accompanied by a huge cloud of steam. "Who from?"

"Well?" She dropped the towel and went over to the wardrobe, digging around in it for clothing as I opened the envelope and began to read.

"Flying into Heathrow tomorrow p.m.," I read, working out the abbreviations slowly. "Sorry such short notice but minor emergency. Need to utilize library and possibly human resources. See you soon. Signed B and W."

"Well, well. A state visit from Queen B herself," Faith mused, smoothing the material of her new silk shirt down over the denim jeans that hugged her curves and made my mouth water. "Do we announce it at dinner?"

I thought it over and then smiled. "I think so. Yes. I think we do. And I think perhaps we have a little session after dinner tonight on the west lawn and arrange a little demonstration, something to showcase our talent, if you will. Some sparring sessions, a vampire if we can arrange one in a hurry, and maybe a little something of the magickal persuasion from Maisri's best and brightest, if they're up to it."

"You know what sounds like more fun?" I asked, glancing at the clock to gauge how much time we had before dinner. She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. I let my smile spread slowly across my face as I got up and walked toward her. When I got to her, I slid my hands under her shirt to cup her breasts through her lace bra. "I'm thinking we could have a little talent showcase of our own right here."

I head her growl low in her throat right before she lifted me up and carried me to our bed. Her hands took my clothes away slowly, and then she took her own shirt off, hanging it neatly over the back of the desk chair before rising above me, dressed now only in her bra and jeans, tanned flesh contrasting beautifully with the yellow lace of the undergarment and the pale blue of the denim. I let my hands touch the soft skin of her back and my eyes flutter shut as her lips closed on my neck and her hands found their way to my more sensitive spots. Here, in the arms of my Faith, I was in heaven.

The first thing I was aware of was a terrible crick in my neck. I winced as I tried to straighten up, then felt a warm hand close on my neck and begin to rub gently at the sore spot. I smiled and opened my eyes to see a concerned Buffy sitting to my right, her left hand behind my neck, touching me gently. She had that little wrinkle between her eyes that told me she was worried about something, and I reached up with my index finger to smooth it away. Her face cleared, and then she smiled at me.

In the two years since Dakota left us, we had drawn closer together than either of us had ever thought possible. We had developed a mental and emotional bond that transcended any type of friendship we'd had before—a connection that we both felt deep in our souls. I didn't even need to ask her what she was so worried about. I knew.

"It's okay," I whispered to her, leaning back and snuggling into her shoulder. "I've made my peace. It's all right."

She looked me in the eyes, as though carefully gauging my words, and then she nodded. "I just -"

"Worry about me," I finished for her. "I know, baby. But believe me, I am all of the good."

She grinned then and kissed my forehead. I knew what worried her. Two years ago, after the destruction of the Watchers' Council by a demon posing as a Watcher, Dakota had left us because she felt that the relationship between Buffy and myself could not develop properly if she were in the way. I was angry at the time—so much so that I said some things that I really didn't mean. It took me some time to get over being angry at Dakota for leaving and realize that what she did was exactly the right thing. Between the three of us, there was a connection of friendship love, and certainly of lust, but of true romantic love, there was none. I knew it, Buffy knew it, and Dakota knew it, which is why she left.

She took Janna home to her family first. We received regular letters from our favorite Potential, updating us on the state of her truck-driving uncles, cotton-farming parents and the seven young scamps that were her little brothers. But after Dakota left Georgia, I had no idea where she'd gone. It wasn't until almost nine months later, when I had finally calmed down enough to ask Buffy if she'd heard from Dakota, that I learned she was in England running the Academy with Faith. Then, Buffy had taken a sheaf of letters out of the far back of one of her desk drawers to show me—letters from Dakota that included photographs of the various students and photographs of herself and Faith and the beautiful countryside.

There was one particular picture that I had taken out of the envelope and kept with me, eventually framing it and standing it on the coffee table, of Dakota and Faith, looking at each other with expressions of such love and devotion that I couldn't hold the anger in my heart any more.

The letters told of the building of the Academy, the recruitment of Potentials and Partners, of triumphs and tribulations. And the letters told of Faith. The letters were intensely personal at times, speaking straight from the heart about the struggles that Faith had in learning to trust—the girls, the staff, Dakota, herself. And the descriptions of her trials broke my heart. I read line after line of ink blotted with tear marks as the writer fought to correctly portray the agony of endless nights filled with nightmares and the screams of a guilty conscience; by the time I was done reading, I was crying myself and wishing I could do something to make up for my own mistakes as a friend.

Now, a little over a year later, I was going to have my chance. I looked out the window of the airplane and saw the lines of London beneath us. As if in response to my peek, the "fasten seatbelts" sign came on and the pilot announced our imminent arrival at Heathrow Airport.

I turned to Buffy suddenly, and she laid a finger across my lips. "It's taken care of," she murmured.

My ears popped as we came down, and we waited interminably for our plane to pull up to the gate. Out the window I could see a long line of planes waiting to arrive at the gate, and I rolled my neck, hearing the vertebrae crack. "I'm gonna be so glad to get out of this airplane."

"Right with you there, babe," she responded. "Fourteen hours in transit makes for a cranky Slayer."

"At least we had a layover," I commented. "Can you imagine if it had been a nonstop flight? Ten hours in the same seat without a chance to move around?"

I raised the armrest between our seats and snuggled up close to her, not caring what anyone around us might think. She pulled me closer to her and I reveled in the scent of her shampoo as her hair fell down around my face. "I love you," I murmured.

"I love you, too," she replied. "And I promise you that in between taking care of business, we are going to enjoy being in England. They have horseback riding and hiking and stuff at the Academy, and all these quaint little villages to explore, and London of course, once we're done with what we need to do."

She laughed. "If that's what you want to do, baby, we'll do it all day long and twice the next day."

Probably forty-five minutes later, we were finally able to stagger out of the airplane, down the concourse and into the airport. Signs directed us to the baggage claim and we went there, Buffy craning her neck constantly for someone we might recognize. We had just snagged the last of our bags off the carousel when a young brown-haired girl, probably fourteen years old, presented herself in front of us. She was dressed in khaki pants and a blue Oxford shirt and had a pin on her collar of a gold cross and a silver stake. Her brown eyes were wide and excited. "'Scuse me," she began. "Buffy Summers an' Willow Rosenberg?"

I had to smile at her accent—she'd pronounced my first name 'Willa.' Buffy turned to the girl and smiled. "I'm Buffy," she replied.

The girl's eyes, if possible, got even wider, and she stuttered hard before taking a very deep breath to calm herself. "I'm Kimberly Little," she finally was able to say. "Partner Trainee from Kiowa, Oklahoma. It's a real honor ta meet yew, Miss Summers, Miss Rosenberg. If ya wanna come with me, we've got a car waitin' on ya out front."

Behind her, a skycap came forward with a cart to take our luggage, then she led us through the maze of the airport and out into the London morning. A Mercedes car was idling at the curb and she opened the back door for us while the skycap loaded our luggage into the Mercedes' trunk. Once we were in, Kimberly shut the door and climbed into the front seat with another girl, a blonde, blue-eyed ice princess in a red shirt who introduced herself in a Slavic accent as Ivanka Kolenitska, a Slayer Potential from Warsaw, Poland. Both girls acted incredibly star-struck at being in the same car with the incredible Buffy Summers, and I poked Buffy in the ribs a couple of times, trying to get her to make eye contact with me. She steadfastly refused, and I knew that it was because if she did, we would both burst out laughing.

The ride to the manor was long, but it was up hill and down dale and through some of the prettiest country I had ever been privileged to see. The Cotswolds are a lovely place full of antique villages and country people and I was captivated by nearly everything I saw. Almost before I realized it, we were heading down a long road between two almost-mountains and Kimberly was turned around in her seat, telling us that this was the entrance road to the Academy. Then we rounded a bend in the road and the Academy was laid out before us in the valley floor.

I nearly lost my breath, it was so beautiful. The "manor" to which Dakota so often referred in her letters was really more of a small castle—six or seven stories with turrets on either end and broad lawns stretching out in either direction for hundreds of feet to meet the forest on three sides and the mountains on the fourth, where we came from. On the opposite side of the castle from us was a huge garden with a creek running through it which sparkled in the sunlight as we came down the mountain and into the valley of the Academy.

We rounded the castle to its west side, where we could see a troop of ten girls standing in quasi-military formation, dressed in what was apparently the uniform of the Academy: the same khaki pants and Oxford shirt that Kimberly and Ivanka wore. Five of the girls wore the same red as our driver; the other five wore the deep royal blue. Kimberly explained quickly that all Potentials wore red and Partner Trainees wore blue, so as to distinguish a student's designation at a glance, and that all students wore the cross-and-stake pin to identify themselves as Academy students. Ivanka drove the car to a rectangular, gravel-paved parking area and Kimberly scrambled out to open the door for us. We climbed out and were greeted by the sight of the ten girls near the door marching up to us in precise formation, executing a complicated choreographic maneuver, and ending at parade-rest in two rows before us, alternating shirt colors and looking very fine.

Buffy nudged me with her elbow as the two girls in the center stepped forward. One wore blue and one red, they wore the cross-and-stake pin on their right collar and both wore starburst pins on their left collar. They stood at absolute attention, strode right up to us, stopped, and bowed. "Welcome to the Academy of Slayers and Partners," the Potential girl said clearly in a German accent.

The Partner girl, in an accent that could be from nowhere but Brooklyn, followed her up with, "We are pleased to greet you as representatives of the student body and welcome you on behalf of our fellow students and our instructors."

"My name is Krista Leichtermann," the German potential stated. "I am the current Head of House for the Potential Slayers."

"My name is Kate Miglione," the New York girl threw in. "I am the current Head of House for the Partner Trainees."

"My Partner and I are pleased to inform you that you are invited to attend a midafternoon tea in the Great Parlor, after which certain entertainments have been arranged for your pleasure," Krista said.

"We should be pleased to escort you there now," Kate added, "or if you are fatigued from your journey and wish to rest, we can guide you to your apartments where you may take your ease."

They stopped then, obviously waiting on our response. I was too impressed to say anything, so Buffy answered for both of us, telling the girls that we'd be pleased to attend tea in the Great Parlor.

Krista turned slightly to her left. "Langley and Cage, you will take Miss Summers's and Miss Rosenberg's bags to their apartments please." At these words, the two girls at the end of the line broke away and moved to the trunk of the car.

Kate turned slightly to her right. "Velasquez, Nguyen, you will escort Miss Summers and Miss Rosenberg to the Great Parlor, please, while the rest of the platoon prepares for the afternoon's entertainment."

Two more girls stepped forward and bowed slightly to us, and the troop executed another complicated maneuver which ended with all the remaining Partners on our right and Potentials on our left, forming a sort of column for us to walk through as the two girls, stiff with pride, led us into the main entryway of the castle and down the hall, ostensibly toward the Great Parlor.

Two more girls stood at the doors to the Great Parlor, uniformed and at attention, a Potential and a Partner. When I saw them, I realized that everything was done two-by-two, a Potential and a Partner together. These girls were being carefully trained to work together as elements of a team, rather than as superior and inferior the way Watchers and Slayers once had. I liked it.

Our escorts led us up to the door. The doorkeepers bowed to us and opened the double doors for us, and our escorts led us into the huge Great Parlor. As we walked in, I would have been dazzled by the opulence if, in the dead center of the huge, richly decorated room, had not stood Dakota, in black denim jeans, a green turtleneck and her favorite Doc Marten boots; and Faith, in blue jeans, a white silk shirt and white high-topped sneakers. They both wore huge grins that I know were matched by the grins on mine and Buffy's faces, as the four of us met in the center of the room to hug one another as hard as we could.

After we'd all eaten more than we could handle, Dakota and Faith announced to us that they had some entertainments for us. Willow nodded. "We've been hearing about that," she said. "What's the up?"

Faith grinned. "Well, when we announced at supper last night that the great Slayer was going to be gracing our humble Academy with her presence -" Faith ducked as I tossed a grape tomato at her and continued, "- our girls decided there was no way they could let you come without showing off everything they've learned. So we set up a little something out on the east lawn, if you guys want to see."

We were led out of the Great Parlor through the huge French doors and into the sunny garden area, where sparring mats had been laid over the gravel. We were escorted into seats in the shade and two girls were dispatched to notify the entertainers that we were ready. Willow commented on the fact that everything was done in teams. Faith nodded. "That was actually my idea," she said. "We used to have a lot more problems than we do now with this one lording it over that one because she's this or that, and we couldn't figure out what to do about it. Then one day I had this flash of Wimpy Wesley and how bad he was about giving orders and commanding people... and I realized that it was because we, meaning me and you, B, have sort of always recognized the Watchers as authority figures, ya know? And I talked it over with Kotie, and we decided that it would be best to reinforce the fact that nobody runs anybody around here—we're all about teamwork. So every couple weeks, we rotate teams and everybody gets to work with somebody different to see which teams work best. I figure we might even get around to making permanent assignments as the girls get older."

Dakota answered. "The oldest girl is seventeen; the youngest is fourteen. We're thinking of expanding our search parameters to find girls as young as eleven. You see, here in England, kids go into secondary school at eleven, so it's not so suspicious for us to be recruiting kids from all over Europe at that age. Even in the States, I think we might be able to make some headway. But we don't quite have the facilities for that just yet."

"No?" I asked, looking around at the huge castle. "You sure look like you've got enough space."

She shook her head. "Not space. We've got enough space to start recruiting girls between six and twenty. I'm talking about staff. Teachers, kitchen staff, housekeepers, that sort of thing. It's hard to put out an ad for a place like this, you know? 'Boarding school for future vampire-and-demon slayers seeks third and fourth form teachers, all subjects. Ability to tolerate scary monsters required; background in demonology helpful but not required.' Doesn't fly well in the Post, you know?"

I had to laugh, but the humor was cut off by the sight of six white-robed girls and six black-robed girls marching out of the building and towards us. They were preceded and followed by regularly-uniformed teams of girls, almost as an honor-guard. The four girls in regular uniform stationed themselves at the edges of the mats; the other girls stepped onto the mats and lined up. They all bowed to us, then all but two of the white-robed girls stepped off the mat and dropped to the ground to sit, Indian-style, on the clean-swept flagstones.

The two girls who remained bowed to us and I suddenly blinked—I hadn't even recognized my own sister, Dawn. Her hair was cut short and her face was different somehow, more mature. She dropped me a ghost of a wink as she was introduced, along with the other girl, Chimi Mishika, a Potential. They turned toward each other and bowed, and then set into a sparring session that left me amazed at both their prowess. Chimi eventually won, forcing Dawn to the mat, but they were very evenly matched. Then two more girls sparred, and then the third set; all three sets were impressing the hell out of me with their fighting ability.

When they were done, all six of them stood at the edge of the mats, bowed to us, and sat back down as the black-robed girls took their places. All six of them stood on the mats and held their hands before them. I watched in wonder and Willow with great interest as arcane energy manifested in each girl's hands, only to be tossed into the darkening evening sky and turn into multicolored fireworks. Then they split apart into two groups of three and set into an arcane battle that amazed me with its ferocity.

When they had done, one side defeating the other, they, too, bowed to us, and then all twelve girls returned to the building, likely to nurse wounds. Faith and Dakota turned to us, grinning. "Whatcha think?" Dakota asked.

I was stunned. "Wow," I said. "Much with the wow. I didn't know you were training them in magick."

Faith grinned. "Maisri, our medic and languages teacher, is also a very powerful witch—probably as powerful as you, Red. She's taking the girls with the talent and training them."

I opened my mouth to make some comment, but was forestalled by the sound of a young girl's voice imitating the bugle call "Charge." I looked at Faith and Dakota, who looked as startled as I was, and realized the students must have cooked up something of their own that they hadn't bothered to tell the administration about. I hoped they wouldn't get into too much trouble.

Just at that second, though, I felt the sudden jump at the back of my neck that said vampire!, and I saw Faith feel it, too, as we both began to look around for it. Then it was on us, from within the garden, but it wasn't alone. Four girls in jeans and tee shirts were chasing it, crossbows and stakes in hand. It was just about to reach us when one of the girls stopped, drew herself up in a pitching stance, wound up faster than I'd ever seen before, and pitched something at the vampire.

It turned out to be a bottle of holy water, which shattered on impact with the thing's head, splattering its entire body and sending it to the ground, screaming in pain. Almost instantly, the other three girls were on it. The one who got there first, a wiry little redhead, dropped to one knee and jammed a stake into it. Then she stood, spitting vamp-dust, to receive claps on the back and hugs from her compatriots.

She shook her head. "Foolhardy. I didn't know they were gonna pull something like this. We thought about catching a vamp and staging something, but we'd have done it safely. Obviously," she glared at the four girls, who immediately stopped celebrating and snapped to attention, becoming sober and stone-faced, "someone's been out to the local nests, pretending to be helpless."

The redhead who'd done the staking flushed a vivid red, though she refused to look down or show her guilt in any other way. I felt a grin growing on my face and knew there was one on Willow's, too. I pointed it at Faith. "Oh, well, demons can't resist a run-and-stumble. You know that. 'Course, sometimes they just like you to dance with 'em and then take 'em out in the alley behind the Bronze."

She blinked at me for a moment, then suddenly realized what I was talking about and burst out laughing. "Oh, Jesus, B, I didn't know you remembered that."

"And how could I possibly forget?" I shot back. "It's not every day some girl I've never seen before snatches my own stake right out of my hand and dusts a vamp with it right in front of me."

We shared a laugh then over things I had once thought I'd never laugh about again, and I realized that, despite everything, Faith and I were cool. Finally. It was kind of a good feeling. But then Faith had to be the principal, and she gave the girls a quick dressing-down for carelessness. It wasn't more than a mild scolding, but I think it stung them that they got it in front of me. After all, it was obvious who they wanted to impress. So when Faith was done, I shot her a questioning look, and she nodded, knowing what I wanted to do.

I looked the girls over and made like I was going to chew them out as well, which made the holy water pitcher look like she wanted to die, and then I grinned at them. "Nice work," I said, and they all looked at me like I was something with two heads. I winked. "Good job with the holy water, and the other three of you were on him the second he was down, which was also of the good. Overall I was highly impressed. But, what Faith said about carelessness is exactly right. Slayers die too often as it is. You don't need to be out trying to get killed before you even get called. Now, who are you kids?"

They introduced themselves enthusiastically. The pitcher was Partner trainee Nicole Roland from Iowa; the staker was Potential Anne McIntosh of Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia; the other two girls were Potential Tien Bhoc Phat from Da Nang, Vietnam and Partner trainee Nicole Jackson of Houma, Louisiana. I found it amusing that even in this highly dangerous little stunt, the girls' training was so ingrained in them that they went about it in Partner-Potential teams, and mentioned this after they had been sent inside.

Dakota nodded. "It's deliberate," she said. "We want the kids to be totally interdependent with each other. No one in the Academy works in isolation. Especially," she stressed, giving me the hairy-eyeball, "not the active Slayer or Slayers. It's drilled into all the girls' heads from day one that the support system is key, especially for the active Slayer. No one can function in a bubble. They're encouraged to form strong friendships and to include one another in everything that they do."

"How do you stop them from turning some kids into Cordelia Chase and some kids turning into geeks?" Willow asked. I smiled; it was the kind of thing you could trust Willow to worry about.

Dakota grinned. "We watch for that like little eagles, believe me. And whenever we see it, we randomly reassign teams so that your Cordelias and your geeks get assigned to each other. Once they get over hating each other, they usually figure out that they have a lot in common."

"And if they don't," Faith finished for her, a wicked gleam in her eye, "We leave them together until they do!"

We all shared a laugh and then, at Dakota's suggestion, moved upstairs to their private quarters to talk more. But when we got there, I wanted to add one more person to our little group. "This is really kind of a Scooby thing," I said slowly. "I'd like to involve Dawn. I don't want her to feel like she's being left out just because she's now a student here. She's still a Scooby."

"No problem," Dakota said and picked up the telephone. She grinned at me. "We just had an internal switchboard installed two months ago. Works like a hotel. It's so nice." She dialed Dawn's room and asked her to come up, and then she dialed the kitchen and asked for coffee and muffins to be sent up. We all got comfortable, waiting, and Dawn and the coffee arrived at just the same time.

When the coffee tray had been set up and the trainees delivering them dismissed, Dawn dropped onto the sofa between Willow and I, hugging us both fiercely. "I've missed you guys," she said sincerely. "Even though you did keep me awake at night." At the rolled eyes all around her, she just grinned, absolutely unflappable. "So," she continued, tucking her legs up under herself and reaching for a muffin. "It must be serious for you guys to fly out here without a moment's notice. What's the up?"

Turned out the reason for B's trip was the newest Big Bad over in Sunnyhell. She wanted a chance to dig through the archives and find out what it was, because it was kicking her ass every time she fought it. They told Kotie and me about Glory, which I had missed on account of being in that Buffy-induced coma and Kotie had missed on account of being in Vegas. At first they had been afraid that this thing was like Glory, but Giles apparently didn't think so. So, trip to the archives. Giles was gonna come, but they left him maintaining a spell Red cast to contain the thing in some kind of stasis field—like on Star Trek or something—and they flew to us to see what kind of information they could dig up.

"No problem. Y'all wanna hit the books tonight or can research-fest wait 'till in the morning?"

"I probably ought to start tonight," Red said, looking less than enthused at the prospect. "On the plus side, I can probably find what I'm looking for, if it's here, in a matter of half an hour." She pulled a little cloth bag out of her pocket and showed it to us. "Locator-o-matic," she explained with a grin. "Anything having to do with our new Big Bad glows pretty."

I felt my eyebrows go up and knew I looked impressed. I was. "Cool. Do you have to be in the same room with the thing? 'Cause we got two different sets of archives."

Dakota got up, too. "Why don't we split up? Dawn and I can hit the library downstairs and you guys can do the restricted collection."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, but I agreed quickly. We had a rule—absolutely no one under the age of twenty-one was allowed access to the restricted books at any time or for any reason. We'd had an accident with a spellbook shortly after setting up camp at the manor and were determined that nothing like that was ever going to happen again. The girl had eventually recovered from the burns but she was never quite the same after that. I explained this to Buffy and Willow as I led them up the stairs to the sixth floor and then all the way to the western turret. There was a winding staircase in that turret that led up into a sort of loft area, open all the way to the roof but with fifteen layers of shelves running all the way around its walls. Don't ask me how the castle builders managed curved shelves—that kinda stuff is more Xander's territory. I just know Dakota went nuts when she saw the place, talking about how great it was as a library since it was sealed against the weather and all kinds of other bliss about how well it would do to store books.

The minute we got to the top of the staircase I could tell Willow was gonna go all rapture about the library and the collection, too, so I just kinda sat back and let the flood roll. She went on and on about the shelves and the ladder and the catwalks and the weatherproofing for probably five, six minutes, until she realized that me and B were looking at her like she'd lost her mind. She trailed off and went quiet and then blushed bright red. "Sorry. Haven't gone into full babble-mode like that in a long time."

"Don't sweat it, Red," I told her, grinning. "Kotie did the same thing when she came up here the first time."

"Besides, it's kind of cute," B threw in. They shared one of those looks that make the kids fake barfing whenever Kotie and I have one.

She nodded, opened the little bag and tossed out a pinch of the stuff inside it. "Reveal," she said. Then she turned to the side and tossed out another pinch and said it again, a little bit louder. Then she turned again and did it again, and then a fourth time: turn, pinch, shout. And then she was silent, head cocked, listening.

B and I heard it first, a kind of quiet humming from up on one of the high shelves. We looked around for it and then spotted it, glowing a bright psychedelic purple. I hit the ladder and climbed up there to get the book, which turned out to be a really old, fat, heavy, leather-bound edition of something whose name was too smudged for me to read. It was probably in Latin or Ancient Hoomafrotchian anyway. Then I heard B climbing the ladder. She went up past me and grabbed another book off the shelf above me. "Gray's Anatomy of Demon-Kind," she read out loud. "Nice. So we get to find out where Big Ugly's intestines are."

"I dunno what I got," I told her as we both started down the ladder. "It's probably gibberish."

"Which means Willow's probably the only one of us that can read it," B said as we made it to the floor.

Red flipped through it to the picture of the demon. Big and ugly didn't even begin to describe it. The book called it a Rothschear Skrall demon and explained that it was one of the few demons known to man that was more powerful than the Slayer. B rolled her eyes, complaining that she really already knew that and why couldn't the books be more helpful.

I handed over my score and Red's eyes got all big. "Oh, if this is what I think it is..."

She laid the book down on the reading table, opening it extremely carefully. B and I leaned over her shoulders, looking. The book looked like it was hand written, all curlicues and big fancy capital letters. I could practically feel the excitement running through Red's body. "Oh, it is! It is! Giles was afraid this was destroyed in London two years ago. Wait till I tell him it's still here!"

She nodded, excited. Her hands were shaking as she turned the pages. "Rothschear was a sorcerer in the mid fourteen hundreds. He was a member of the Watchers' Council at one point, according to Giles, but they expelled him for summoning and—get this—creating demons."

"Dude made new demons? Like there wasn't enough already?" I exclaimed. That ticked me off.

She nodded. "Rothschear was obsessed with finding ways to make the Slayer better, stronger and faster. He would create demons and tinker with them to find ways to improve on the Slayer. Some of what he did was good, and it really did help make the Slayer more powerful. But then the power got to his head and he... well, you know what they say: power corrupts."

I nodded, not saying anything. I knew all too well, and personally, just how much power could corrupt. But, to their credit, neither of them so much as twitched an eye at me. I was really grateful for that. Instead, they both studied the pages as Red turned them, moving slowly to keep from damaging the old paper. Rothschear's notes were both detailed and incredibly disturbing, as I listened to Red's voice go monotone when she read aloud his descriptions of what he put the girl herself through in making the modifications. Then he killed her accidentally during one of his spells, and the Council expelled him. It was after this, according to what Red was reading, that he started building his own demons. He built them specifically to be stronger and better than the Slayer, as a sort of revenge for getting booted, and bragged in his notes that his "babies" as he called them had bagged a couple of Slayers. Dude made me sick, and he'd been dead like six hundred years.

Then Red sucked in a breath, and I knew she'd found something good. "Here's the demon," she said. "The Skrall—how he made it, how to kill it. Oh, God—it's just a simple spell. Xander could do this." She picked up the book. "I've got to call Giles."

B scrambled back up the ladder to put Gray's Anatomy of Demon-Kind back where it was, and then the three of us went back to Kotie's and my apartment as quick as we could. Kotie and Dawn were already there, looking down in the dumps, so I knew they hadn't found anything. So when they spotted the book Red was holding, and they got excited. I went to the phone, got a line out, and handed it to Red, and she called Giles.

"Giles, it's Willow. Yeah, I found it! Is it still asleep? Oh, good. Yeah. Look, here's what you need." She ran down a list of herbs and things he'd need to do the spell, then read him the incantation slowly enough for him to write it down. Then she turned to me. "Giles says thank you very much."

I grinned. "Nothin' to it," I replied. "Ask him when he's comin' to visit. We got new girls since the last time he was here."

She repeated my message, and then grinned. "He wants to know how you are with this weekend."

"Five by five," I said. "Kotie, how 'bout you?" She nodded and Red talked to him a little bit more, then hung up.

It was late—very late—and I asked Dawn to take them to their apartments before going back to her own dorm. She did, and then it was just me and Kotie. I shucked my clothes and jumped up into the huge bed that was in our room. I loved the bed—it was one of those really huge beds with the velvet curtains all around it like you read about in cheesy romance novels, but it was great because we could pull the curtains closed around us and be safe in our own little world.

Kotie climbed into bed behind me and did just that, and before long, we were closed in a cocoon of silence that was so dark my eyes made sparkles just to have something to do. I felt her moving toward me, and then I felt her hand slide up my leg. "Nice job," she whispered, and her voice was right in my ear, low and growly sort of, and it gave me shivers up and down my spine. Either that or the fact that her hand was now traveling up my side toward my breast.

She leaned forward and kissed me, pushing me down into the featherbed, and I was kind of surprised, because she's not usually so dominant when we're in bed. But then, that's probably because I am, and she lets me be. But this time she wanted control, and I gave it up to her gladly. She started at my lips and moved down to my neck, kissing me so gently I barely even felt it. Then she worked on my pulse point just above my collarbone until I knew I was going to have a mark but didn't care, and then she moved down to my breasts and I was lost.

I could feel myself pushing up towards her, my body reaching for everything she was willing to give. And as she switched back and forth between my breasts, her hands pushed my thighs apart and she knelt with one knee between them, pushing her leg up against my body and making me gasp. She rode me that way until I was whimpering like a baby, saying her name over and over and begging her for more, and then she slid her hand in to replace her knee, thumb rubbing my clit and two fingers sliding inside me. I came almost as soon as she was in me, and she kissed me again, so that I screamed into her mouth. And then she was kissing her way down my body, and her mouth felt like electric shocks every place it touched, until I felt her breath blow cool across the heat around her hand, and then her mouth was between my legs and all I could do was breathe, breathe, remind myself to breathe, and grab the sheet under me and twist it so hard that I almost ripped it, and feel my hips jerking and straining towards her, and cry out her name until I felt that rising sensation that pulled me up and up and up until it ripped apart and I felt that heat flow all through my body and I collapsed on the mattress, feeling much like a wet noodle and completely unable to move.

She climbed back up my body and kissed me, and I tasted myself on her and smiled. She pulled me close to her and I wrapped myself around her. "I love you," I whispered, feeling as I always did the deep, incredible wonder of knowing that I loved someone, and that someone loved me back. There was a time when I thought that would never happen. I wrapped myself around her, wallowing in the silky feel of her skin on mine and barely noticing—as I did so much when we first got together—how much cooler her skin was than mine. Instead I noticed only the smoothness of her skin, the perfection of her features. Then her hand slid between my legs again, gently stroking my fire back up until I was gasping again. I pulled her face to my neck, and I felt her fangs pierce my skin, and the ecstasy I felt from the pressure on my neck combined with her hand on my most sensitive flesh sent me off the charts. And then I felt her lick the wound she'd made, and I knew that, with my Slayer healing, it would be gone tomorrow; and I felt her take me in her arms, and I snuggled into her neck and fell asleep.

Willow didn't return Rothschear's book immediately; in fact, after Buffy fell asleep that night, she unwound herself from her lover's embrace and moved to the chesterfield sofa. Once there she lit a lamp, wrapped herself in a blanket, dragged the heavy tome into her lap, and began to read. Rothschear's work was disturbing to her, as much of it was clinical descriptions of mostly painful things he'd done to the Slayer of the time—her name had been Inge, no last name or country of origin reported. Willow was both engrossed in the explanations of sorceries done by a mage so powerful she wasn't sure she could even imagine duplicating his work, and repulsed by the horrific way he treated the girl when he worked magicks on her without her permission.

He was responsible for the incredible speed of Slayer healing, she realized as she scanned through one section of the book. He had discovered this amazing self-healing spell in an ancient Egyptian scroll, or so he said, and had created one of his monsters to test it out on. Once he worked out the nuts and bolts of the spell itself, he picked it apart and rebuilt it so that it would attach itself to the myriad of magicks already involved with the Slayer. Willow studied the method he'd used extremely carefully, thinking that perhaps this spell could be modified and used—with the current Slayers' permission, of course—to make the Slayer even more invulnerable than before, possibly even increasing her average lifespan exponentially. She shivered with glee at the thought, glancing over at the huge antique bed where her lover slept soundly, thinking to herself that even one extra day with Buffy would be worth the effort required to work out and set such a spell.

Unfortunately, Willow learned, this improved Slayer healing was pretty much the only positive thing Rothschear was responsible for. After his success in that endeavor, he began to cook up wild schemes to improve the Slayer, including turning her into a sort of Inspector Gadget, but with the gadgets being actual parts of her body. He wanted to work out a way to build weapons into the body of the Slayer herself, such as stakes in the hands. If he'd been around in the fifties, Willow thought, it would've been laser beams from the eyes. He had to have been insane. But whatever he was, he apparently hid it well, at least for a while. He wrote many times that none of his Council compatriots knew what he was up to, that none of them knew about his experiments. He continued to build his own demons, trying out things on them that he wanted to do to the Slayer. Eventually, he thought he might have come upon a way to make the Slayer able to turn her hands into sharp blades, good for beheading and stabbing. He summoned her to his workroom one morning without telling anyone else, and when she came in he bound her magickally and then set about working his spell.

The spell failed, and the Slayer bled to death before his eyes. When this was discovered that afternoon, he was immediately brought before a Council tribunal, tried and summarily ejected from the Council. Then, Willow realized, Rothschear's true madness began to surface. He continued to make his monsters, only now they were larger and more evil than ever before. He wove spells into them to make them more powerful than the Slayer, but he also wove trigger spells into them so that if they turned on him, the recitation of a simple, two-line hex would disintegrate the beast instantly. She smiled triumphantly—this had been how she'd told Giles to destroy the beast held in stasis in Sunnydale. Rothschear was mad, but he was careful as well, and the combination made Willow shiver.

She flipped forward in the thick book, scanning over different spells and different demons, reading with horror the accounts of the two Slayers killed by Rothschear's monsters. The glee with which the mad sorcerer chronicled the two butcherings—and there was no other appropriate word for them—was enough to turn the young witch's stomach. She finally set the book aside, unable to read farther, and returned to the warm featherbed where Buffy lay. She slid between the sheets and the Slayer moved toward her automatically, reaching for her and pulling her close. She smiled as Buffy's head came to rest on her shoulder, the face as innocent in sleep as Willow imagined she must have looked before she was Called. Willow breathed in the fragrance of her lover—the sweet berry scent of her shampoo, the clean fragrance of her soap, and the musky aroma that was Buffy alone, reminiscent of the carnal pleasures they had shared earlier in the evening. She sighed, thinking that if she could bottle that mix of perfumes and sell it, she'd either become rich beyond her wildest dreams or end up incarcerated as a purveyor of the strongest intoxicant known to modern man. The thought made her grin as she slowly drifted to sleep, the music of Buffy's heartbeat thrumming in her ears.

Two corridors to the east, a certain daywalking vampire slid out of her own lover's embrace, wrapped a robe around herself, snagged a couple of oranges off the table, and slipped out through the French doors and onto the balcony. Under the pale moonlight, she settled onto the deacon's bench near the railing and tucked her feet under herself, concentrating on peeling and then precisely sectioning the hapless fruit. Task accomplished, she sat and sucked each section dry of juice as she looked out over the gardens, thinking so deeply that she wasn't really seeing anything in front of her.

The Rothschear Manuscript. She had found that book two years ago when they first took possession of the manor, lying in the middle of a table in the main reading room with a pad full of handwritten notes by it. She didn't know who, but someone had been studying it and trying to figure out how Rothschear went about doing the things he did. Some of the notes on the pad had been frightening as they had led her to the conclusion that whoever the reader had been, he had been trying to figure out how to harness the mystical forces of the Slayer line in order to cause the death of a Slayer or Potential who turned rogue. She had hidden the book away in the very top of the turret library, which was forbidden to students, hoping against hope that it would never be needed, but keeping it rather than destroying it just in case it ever was. Now, the manuscript was out again, and in the hands of a witch who might be as powerful as Rothschear himself had been. Dakota loved Willow and had faith in her, but as the old saying went, "power corrupts." She would not be quite comfortable again until that manuscript was back at the top of the turret library where it belonged.

The only problem with that was that there were probably a lot of things that Rothschear's magicks could be used for which would be incredibly beneficial to the Slayer line, such as making her completely invulnerable to certain types of attacks. Dakota felt very strongly that this could and should be done, but the risks of unleashing a second Rothschear were so great that she was truly terrified by the scope of the possible destruction. Rothschear's magicks, in the wrong hands, could easily be used to simply wipe out every living Slayer and Potential, possibly ending the line forever. This was too great a risk. It might suck, she thought, getting Called and having a Great Destiny and having your life stolen and dying young, but it's necessary. Someone has to do it; might as well be us. The needs of the many far outweigh the needs of the one.

The sun rose on Dakota as she mulled over her thoughts in a long and increasingly disturbing loop. She watched it peek over the horizon, suddenly entranced by the incredible spectrum of colors that preceded it, a spectrum which, but for the lucky fluke of her Slayer Potentiality, she would not have been able to see. She had never been religious, nor had she ever considered herself to be particularly spiritual, but she took the few minutes as the sun crested the horizon to thank whatever Powers were listening for the fact that, even though she was still a vampire, she was still able to watch the daily mundane miracle of the dawn.

As she sat there, she felt a presence come up behind her, and a warm pair of lips press a sweet kiss to the nape of her neck. She smiled. "Hey, hon."

"Morning," Faith replied, coming around the end of the bench to snuggle up to her.

"So it is," she responded. She laid her head against Faith's and sighed quietly.

"What makes you think anything's wrong?" Dakota asked, knowing full well that she wouldn't be able to fool her lover. Faith knew her too well.

"Let's see, you've been sitting out here since the wee hours of the morning without moving, you're watching the sunrise with tears in your eyes but no smile on your face, and you've drained the blood out of two innocent pieces of citrus."

Dakota had to laugh. "Busted." She sighed again, collecting her thoughts, and finally blurted out, "It's that damn manuscript." She felt Faith waiting for her to continue and told her lover everything that she'd spent the last few hours brooding about. By the time she was done, she could feel the tension in Faith's shoulders.

"I didn't want you to stress about it," she responded. "I figured whoever was trying to work out the spell is dead, I burned the notes, and I stuck the book off in the most remote place I could think of, where none of the kids could get at it. I very nearly burned the book, too, but I kept it on the off chance that there might be something in it someday that someone might need to know. And what do you know, here comes Willow and Buffy, needing to kill one of the dirty bastard's little monsters."

"Oh." Faith was silent for a while, watching with Dakota as the manor began to come to life beneath us. Mrs. Katherine came out of her ground-floor room and went for her morning walk in the garden; a few of the Potentials came out together to go for a morning run; a few of the Partner trainees came out to one of the grassy areas and worked out together, doing mild calisthenics and a little bit of sparring.

"I don't think Willow will do anything," Dakota said finally. "She's very ethical. Or, at least, she's always been very ethical."

"Power corrupts," Faith murmured, thinking of Rothschear and unconsciously echoing Dakota's earlier thoughts. The vampire nodded. Faith thought for awhile longer, then suddenly came to a decision. "Instead of stressing over this, why don't we actually talk about it with B and Red?"

"Then we do it this morning. And afterwards, we take 'em riding so they can see our scenic countryside," Faith stated cheerfully, sounding like a bad travel brochure.

Dakota couldn't help but giggle as the two of them shared a brief kiss and then went back inside to have showers and begin their day.

Willow was enchanted by the dining hall at the Academy, declaring that it looked just like the great hall at Hogwarts from the Harry Potter books; Buffy, who had been made to sit through the movie three times so far, thought privately that it did not in the least resemble Hogwarts, but she was willing to let this ride in favor of maintaining domestic harmony. Sometimes the smartest Slayer is the silent Slayer, she told herself as they were seated at the main table on the dais. Dakota and Faith were seated to Buffy's right and Miss Maisri and Mrs. Katherine to Willow's left, all six seats facing the rest of the large room, where two long wooden trestle tables sat waiting to be occupied by students.

A bell tolled the hour of seven somewhere in the building and when its tones died away, the main doors of the dining hall opened to admit two columns of girls walking well in step together into the hall. They marched up the center aisle two by two and the two girls at the heads of the columns stopped about four feet from the dais. When the sounds of footsteps had completely died away and every girl was standing straight and tall in the middle of the hall, Dakota stood. "Good morning, ladies."

"Good morning, Miss Dakota," they responded in unison, and their voices filled the room.

The headmistress smiled at them. "There are just a few announcements this morning. Inspections will be held as usual this morning at eight-thirty. Please make sure that your rooms are clean, and those of you who might be hiding contraband, Dawn, please make sure it's hidden better today than it was last week. Due to the special circumstances of the visitors we have this week, all non-language classes will be suspended for the remainder of the week. Mrs. Katherine asks me to remind you that you all have exams today in Latin and to please be prepared because if she has to listen to forty-four people botch the ablative case, she might just go starkers." She paused, thinking. "Oh! One other thing, and then you can all eat. The kitchen respectfully requests that the midnight raids on the sweets cabinets stop, or at least radically taper off, before they're forced to start keeping a pit bull in front of the cabinet doors. Let's eat."

She sat back down and the girls broke ranks and swarmed the tables. Mealtimes were one of the few regimented times at the Academy, and the students were permitted to sit wherever and with whomever they chose. Buffy and Willow were both surprised to see that they didn't voluntarily segregate themselves into Potentials and Partners, but instead mixed together as friends. They saw also that no girl sat alone. Everyone had someone sitting with them, and though there were a few sets of just two girls sitting together, they seemed to be having private conversations and not simply isolating. As they settled down, the kitchen staff streamed in from somewhere behind the dais, carrying steaming platters of food and pitchers of various different beverages. The noise level in the room abated somewhat as the girls applied themselves to their breakfast, and kept dropping as the girls, finished eating, began slipping out in ones and twos in order to make sure that their rooms were ready for inspection.

Buffy was ravenous and fell to with a gusto she hadn't felt in quite a while. The food was excellent, and she wondered briefly if she hadn't ought to make Faith go back to California and let her stay here for a while. She leaned over and mentioned this quietly to Willow, who burst out laughing and nearly choked on her buttered egg. Two of the girls nearest her pointed and teased her gently in foreign accents. She responded in kind and they bantered back and forth for a bit, until the girls were done eating and excused themselves "to go and hide our contraband."

Faith shrugged. "Lotsa stuff, actually; more than you'd expect. Illegal stuff, of course. Drugs, smokes and alcohol are absolutely not tolerated. Anybody that we catch with 'em gets one warning, and that warning involves twenty licks and a month on kitchen duty; after that I don't know what we'll do. We've just had the one girl get caught with smokes, and she was smart enough not to get caught again. Can't very well expel a Potential, can we?" She shrugged. "Minor stuff that we can overlook sometimes... well, mostly food and stuff. We don't like 'em to have food in their rooms on account of mice and roaches. Dawn's got some nudie mags—Dakota found 'em pokin' out from under her mattress last week. We don't like 'em to burn candles in their rooms on account of Chimi once set her mattress on fire, and especially some of the younger girls are careless about things like that."

"You bet," Faith answered. "We're a little regimented, sure, but we're no military school. Most of what we do with the marching and stuff's just to build some discipline into these kids. 'Cause we know what happens when a Slayer gets out into the world with no discipline and thinkin' she's the shit, don't we, B?"

Faith nodded and turned back to her hotcakes. After a long moment, she spoke again. "I don't want any of these girls to have to go what you went through trying to control me, or what I went through trying to be me. Neither one of us got the long end of the stick on that deal, did we, B?" When Buffy shook her head, Faith continued, "They don't know that I was the rogue Slayer." She said this quietly, and almost as though she were ashamed of hiding her past. "We were afraid that if they knew, they wouldn't respect me as much. And they have to, otherwise I can't keep discipline."

Buffy nodded and laid her hand on Faith's shoulder. "You're probably right," she said gently. "They don't need to know who it was. It's enough for them to know that she existed, what she did, and what happened to her. Besides," she added, squeezing the shoulder for emphasis, "the girl who did all those things is dead."

Faith looked up at Buffy then, and the blonde Slayer saw tears standing in her counterpart's eyes. "Thanks, B," Faith choked out, and the two Slayers shared an embrace that told them both all was forgiven.

After breakfast, I took Willow upstairs to the sixth floor, which was where Maisri's magickal workrooms were. "I thought you might like to see these," I told her, which was true. "There won't be any students up here right now, because they're not allowed above the fourth floor and also because there's something we need to talk about."

She gave me the sort of quasi-innocent look that I've seen on many a student's face, the one that says 'I don't think I've done anything but oh, God, what have I done this time?' I shook my head, leading her into one of the private rooms. "It's just a concern that I have."

We sat down and she waited for me to speak. I debated for a few seconds how to begin and then just plunged into it. "That book. You've still got it."

She nodded. "I've been reading it. Most of it makes my skin crawl, but there's parts of it that are intriguing and that I think are worth a second look."

I shook my head. "It's dangerous stuff, Will. Someone was using it to try and find a way to kill the current Slayer by using the magick of the Slayer line. I don't know who they were trying to target, but I'm not comfortable with that book being out of the tower."

"I'm almost done with it," she hedged. "I think it's important to know what he was trying to do, in case someone ever tries it again. We'd know how to counter them."

It was a logical argument. It made sense. And I still loved Willow and wanted to trust her. So I nodded. "Good point. Just don't let anyone else have it, okay? And when you're through looking at it, make sure it goes back in the tower?"

She nodded in agreement with me and we let the topic drop, going on with our tour of the magick floor and then catching up with Faith and Buffy to go on a riding tour of the grounds.

When Kotie caught up with me and B, she had the look on her face that says everything's fine, but she had the ice in her eyes that says something's bothering her on a level where she might not even realize it herself yet. I knew she meant to talk to Red about that damn book when they were upstairs and I had to assume that was the problem, 'cause there was nothing else that could've been that kind of wrong. I couldn't think of any excuse to talk to her privately without seeming rude, though, so I had to let it go until later. On our way out to the barn, the ice seemed to thaw a little bit, so I decided maybe it wasn't so much of an emergency, but I trusted Kotie's instincts. More so than that, even, I trusted that gift of hers that lets her see the future. I put my concerns on the back burner in favor of the ride we were about to take, concentrating on showing our guests the best that the Academy had to offer.

"So what's the name of the estate, anyway?" Buffy asked as she mounted Worrywart, a calm gelding who'd earned his name as a nervous little colt.

I gave her my best 'Huh?' look. "It's the Academy, B," I told her, wondering whether she'd lost her mind.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't all these places have names? Like Whoosit Estates and Whatchamacallit Place?"

"Kismet Manor," Kotie stated from atop Snack Pack, humor loud in her voice. "Believe it or not."

"Kismet Manor?" Willow replied, nearly hysterical with laughter and trying to calm down before mounting Long Shot.

Buffy shook her head at our laughing spouses. "Kismet is another word for fate or destiny," she told me.

"I swear I'm not," she responded, right hand in the air. "Slayer Scout's honor. It had that name before we took it over. I'm thinking some Council wag named it that forever ago."

"Smartasses." I rolled my eyes, tightening the girth on Texas Rose. I stuck my foot in the stirrup and mounted, feeling Kotie's eyes on my rear end as I did so. I turned and glanced at her.

Busted, she blushed and then grinned. She edged Snack Pack up next to me, grabbed me by the front of my shirt, pulled me forward, and laid one on me like she'd never done before. When she finally let me go, I couldn't breathe and I nearly fell off Texas Rose. Buffy and Willow applauded and then I got embarrassed and I had to turn and mess with the saddlebags until they left me alone. When the red was gone out of my face, I turned back around and got us on the trail.

I hate my gift, Dakota wrote in her journal two nights later, sitting again on the balcony bench, squinting in the light of the moon and one guttering candle. I don't know what to do and I can't ask anyone, because everyone's involved but nobody knows it yet. I'm absolutely terrified.

I've gotten so good at not looking into people's eyes that sometimes I even forget why I do it. It never occurred to me before last night that I've only looked in Faith's eyes once, and that was when we first met, and I didn't see anything in them then past the fight with the Karvuil demon. I knew she would survive that, but it's all I knew.

But last night I got a good look in her eyes, and I saw what I've always avoided her eyes in fear of seeing—her death. I saw her death last night, and I saw who was responsible, and I'm sick. I'm so sick with fear and worry that if I could be sure a stake would kill me, I'd fall on one right now to stop myself having to live through what's coming.

That book. That fucking book. I've got to get that book back. If I can get it back, maybe I can stop everything. Maybe something different will happen. She won't die. She can't die. Please, God, whatever name or form You have, please don't let this happen. If I've got to live forever because of You picking me as a Slayer, then at least don't make me have to lose her like this. I think I'll go crazy.

I'll get that book back, for starters; I'll get it back and burn it and then it can't be used that way. I don't care how useful it might be. I don't care. None of that matters. I can't do this!

I have to stop this. I have to. But I have to find out how far this goes. I'm going to have to use my gift on her... I've got to find out what she's planning. I have to. Faith's life depends on it.

The first thing Faith noticed was the look of sick fear on Dakota's face as she stared unseeing out at the sunrise. Concerned, she sat next to her lover and tried to find out what was wrong. Dakota was incoherent, only able to cling to Faith and cry. She finally picked the smaller girl up and carried her to bed, telling her in no uncertain terms that she wasn't to move.

She went downstairs to get some breakfast for Dakota and also to get Maisri to come and have a look at her, and bumped into Willow on the second floor landing. Willow had a look of incredible excitement on her face. "Where's Dakota? I need to talk to her about something."

"She's upstairs," Faith replied. "She ain't feeling so hot. I figured maybe she's got a bug or something, so I'm getting Maisri to come have a look at her."

"Oh," Willow said, looking disappointed. "Well, I guess I'll just tell her about it afterward, then. Do you think it would be all right for me to use one of the workrooms upstairs?"

"The magick rooms? Sure, go ahead. Just keep a list of whatever supplies you use out of the cabinets so I can make sure they get replaced. Maisri gets cranky when she runs outta stuff."

"Thanks!" Willow trotted on up the stairs and Faith headed on downstairs, looking for her in-house medic.

Willow popped back into her room for long enough to grab Rothschear's manuscript and then she headed up to the next floor, where the magick workrooms were. She chose the cubicle farthest from the stairs with the least likelihood of interruptions and began to set up. A trip to the supply cabinet provided her with everything she needed to do the spell she was planning. She set up the room just the way she wanted it, and sat down to go over her planned working one last time.

Dakota, after throwing up three attempts at eating breakfast, gave up completely and simply sat at the head of her bed, shivering. She had been unable to get the image of Faith's dead body out of her mind—and the face of the woman who had caused her death. That face had been terrifying and evil, but also familiar.

She was trying to formulate a plan. Something, anything, to stop what she saw coming. She decided to take the straightforward approach and simply ask for the book to be returned. Now. She didn't feel that she would have to give an explanation—Willow had now had over four days to look over the book and satisfy whatever morbid witchy curiosity had led her to want to read the thing in the first place, and it was time the book went back to the tower, where it would be safe.

The phone next to the bed rang, and Dakota rolled over to it and picked it p. "Yes?"

"Yes, thank you." Dakota wondered who on earth it could be, then stood, dressed hastily, and went downstairs to meet their guests.

"This place is gorgeous," Xander commented. "I've never been to England before, you know."

"Yes, Xander, I know," Giles replied dryly. "I figured that out somewhere in the last four hundred and eighty-seven times you said it."

The taxi pulled up in front of the manor and after paying the driver, Giles slid out with Xander just behind him. There, standing on the porch, was Dakota, and Giles embraced her warmly. "It's good to see you," he told her.

She hugged him back and then hugged Xander as well. "It's good to see you both, too. Giles, we've got a situation. I need to talk to you right away. Xander, I'm so glad you came. I think you'll like the place. Come on in, I'll get a couple of girls to give you the nickel tour." She looked around. "Chimi!" she called to a girl who stood nearby. "Can you and your Partner come and carry Mr. Giles' bags to his room?"

"You bet, Ms. D," the girl replied, grabbing another who stood close to her. They came, took the bags with a smile, and trotted off toward the stairs.

Dakota looked around at the girls who were loitering around, many lounging on couches and a few playing what looked like dice against a wall nearby. She reached over and touched a girl on one of the couches. "Quontavia? Would you and Mindy carry Mr. Harris's bags up to the room next door to Miss Summers and Miss Rosenberg's room, please?"

Then Dakota turned to a third set of girls. Casey, Amy, would you girls like to give Mr. Harris a tour of our lovely facility?"

Xander followed the girls with a slight grin as they began to tease one another, and Giles turned to Dakota. "What seems to be the problem?"

They settled into Dakota's comfortably-appointed office, the door securely locked behind them, before Dakota broke down crying. She poured out all the tension she'd been holding since catching that glimpse of Faith's future and he held her while she cried, then helped her to clean her face when she was done, and made her square her shoulders and face her fears.

"We're simply going to have to take the book away from her," he stated flatly. "There's no other way around it. You can tell her or not tell her what you've seen... but the book has to be taken away. The sooner the better. Where is she?"

"I don't know. Let's go find out." Now that she had been able to share her burden and cry out her anguish, she felt able to take decisive action. They stood and left the room. Faith was just crossing the hall and heading for the main staircase, and Dakota called out to her. "Have you seen Willow?"

"Yeah, I saw her earlier, maybe a couple hours ago. She wanted to borrow one of Maisri's workrooms."

Giles and Dakota shared a horrified glance, but neither had taken more than two steps before a sudden eerie whine filled the hall. A strange bluish glow settled on each of the Potentials and the whine grew into a deafening bell-tone. The glow on two girls suddenly intensified into a blinding white light, and the rest of the girls, appearing very dazed, were released. The two girls still being held were somehow lifted into the air, held there for a brief moment, and then suddenly dropped to the floor simultaneously with the cessation of the light and the sound.

Faith, Dakota and Giles rushed over to those two girls. They both lay very close to each other on the floor and were both groaning and holding their heads as though they had pounding headaches. One of the girls, a pretty blonde named Kerry, opened her eyes. Faith gasped as the eyes glowed bright yellow for a moment and then suddenly cleared again. "Wow..." Kerry moaned.

The other girl, the Latina Maria Ortega, opened likewise yellow eyes and sat up quickly, looking around. "What's that buzz?"

"No, not sound buzz." She touched the nape of her neck. "Buzz here. Like... power."

"Power..." Faith breathed. "Maria, that's the buzz that tells you a Slayer is near. I get that around B all the time." She looked up at Dakota. "And I'm getting it now... double strength. From these two."

"Oh, my God," Giles whispered hoarsely. "She's tampered with the basic nature of the Slayer line."

Dakota stood. "It's begun," she said quietly. "Willow's done something irreversible and bad things are about to happen." She moved to the center of the room. "We don't have a lot of time. Everyone listen up. Willow's done something you all need to know about—she used one of the magick texts from up in the tower—one that she was supposed to be researching demons from—in order to alter the nature of the line. Now, rather than only one Chosen, we have at least four. There are possibly more than four—when this is over, we're going to have to do a pretty major Seeking to try and find anyone else who isn't already here who might have been Called. But this is pretty serious mojo and, if what I'm afraid of has occurred, there's going to be fighting here. Anyone who has been here less than six months, and anyone who is under the age of sixteen, get out to the barn, get horses and get out into the woods. We are officially under attack alert and you are not under any circumstances to return to the manor until the all-clear is signaled. Is that clear?" All the girls responded with crisp "yes, ma'ams", and Dakota continued. "There are a few girls who are not accounted for in this room. House heads, find them. Get them out. Everyone go!"

"Oh. You're only fourteen. But... wait. Look at me." She took the girl by the chin and looked into her eyes. She saw the battle to come, saw the girl surviving it, and going on to become a very successful Slayer. "Okay," she said, breaking the contact. "You're staying. We might need you."

All remaining eyes turned to her and the room rang with a gasp of horror. Buffy's choked voice slid through the silence that followed. "Wills?"

It was Willow on the staircase, all right, but it was Willow as none of them had ever seen her before. Her eyes and hair were completely black, and the expression on her face was cold. "Not so much. Willow... doesn't live here any more. But I certainly appreciate the vehicle. She's a pretty girl. I haven't had a female body in centuries."

"Part of your undoing," Giles stated flatly. Then he glanced around at the few remaining girls. "Don't tell him your names. He can use them against you."

Rothschear faked a yawn. "Well, enough with the idle chatter. I suppose if I'm going to take over the world, I'm going to have to go through you lot. This is what the Watchers' Council brings to bear against me? An old man and a pack of little girls?"

"The Watchers' Council is no more, Rothschear," Dakota snarled. "And we'll have Willow back."

"Really? The Council has gone? How delightful. Then it won't be much for me to handle the lot of you, will it?" With the wave of a negligent hand, Giles went flying back against the wall and slumped to the floor in a heap.

Partner Trainee Conchara Jimenez stepped forward, said three brief words, and hurled a ball of green fire at the sorcerer wearing Willow's body. He also went flying back. Faith suddenly turned. "Nicki Roland! Go get Miss Maisri and do it now!"

The young girl, who just a few days ago had pitched a bottle of holy water to bring down a vampire, took to her heels and darted out of the hall as quickly as she could.

Rothschear stood up and gave a chilling smile to the room. "Well, perhaps I've underestimated you girls." The smile disappeared. "I won't again, you can be sure of that."

"He's wearing me down," Maisri whispered to Faith. "I'm no gonna be able to hold this thing up much longer."

Dakota turned stricken eyes toward Faith, but she didn't move—she was too busy putting pressure on the gash in Buffy's thigh, trying to make the bleeding stop. The blonde Slayer herself was unconscious, having taken a magic bolt to the head.

Thus far they had been relatively successful in their battle—no one had died, anyway—but the magick students were worn out from casting and the Potentials and Slayers were worn out from fighting the little demons Rothschear had been calling up. Thus far, they had managed to defeat everything, but the last one had claws which had provided Buffy with the nasty slice out of her leg.

There were, for the moment, no little demons and no mage-bolts flying through the air. There was only silence. The defenders were foxholed behind furniture and doors, as well as a protective shield Maisri was holding, but as she had said, she was wearing down and the shield would soon fall. When it did, Faith knew, the killing would begin in earnest.

There was only one solution. Rothschear would have to die. Unfortunately, in order to kill him, Faith would probably have to kill Willow as well.

Faith wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her hunting knife and drew it from its sheath at the small of her back. She took a deep breath, looked over at Dakota, and winked. "Love ya, babe," she whispered, knowing in her heart that there was a better-than-even chance that she was about to die. She peeked carefully through the crack between the two overturned tables they were currently hiding behind and located Rothschear, who was sitting at the bottom of the staircase, looking a bit winded.

"He's getting tired," Faith murmured to Maisri. "If I don't make it, try to rally the girls. A few more good blows should finish him off." She took a deep breath then, and sprang over the tabletops, charging at Rothschear, hunting knife at the ready.

She never made it. A mage-bolt flew at her, striking her directly in the stomach. She was thrown back through the room, slammed head-first into the wall, and slumped to the floor next to Giles, who'd been knocked out in the first round. Xander came out from behind a door to check on her and nodded grimly that she still had a pulse.

A collective gasp ran through the room, and then suddenly there was an outburst of anger from the far back of the room. "Hey! You can't do that!"

Nicki Roland, the young Partner trainee who'd run to get Maisri, stood up, pure fury written on her face. She stepped forward, apparently heedless of her own safety, and advanced toward Rothschear, who was wearily trying to summon his magicks against her. She was joined a moment later by her partner in mischief, the equally-angry Nicole Jackson. Nicole slid her hand into Nicki's and suddenly a bright nimbus of power glowed into being around the two of them.

Maisri gasped. "That's it!" She turned to the children. "All of you! We have to work together! Pool your power!"

The rest of the girls suddenly poured out of their foxholes, all establishing skin-on-skin contact with one another, Nicki at the point. The young Partner trainee's eyes began to glow a bright yellow. "That's it," she snarled, and her voice echoed strangely. "I have had enough!" She raised one hand toward Rothschear, focused her will precisely as she had been taught by Maisri, and slowly began to close her fingers into a fist. Rothschear gasped, and Willow's body arched suddenly. "You come out of her!" Nicki ordered, and the disputed body shook again. "You come out! You come out right now and answer for your sins!"

Nicki's fist clenched hard, and the made a sudden snatching movement as though ripping something out of something else, and the blackness was abruptly snatched from Willow's body, leaving only a pale, red-haired figure slumped on the floor. The darkness somehow took substantial form in front of the gathered girls.

::Fools:: came a voice from all around them. ::Do you think you can stop me? You are nothing! You are maggots compared to the awesome might of my power! Fear me, for I shall destroy you!::

Nicki looked the blackness in the face and faked a yawn. "Bored now," she responded, and with a sudden surge of power, she punched a hole right through the center of the darkness. With an anguished scream of failure, the dark figure broke apart and melted away into nothingness.

The surge of power left Nicki as the girls' hands all dropped away from one another and she swayed, nearly falling before being caught by Kerry Roberts. "Whoa, kid," Kerry said with a grin, easily picking the young Partner up and carrying her to a chair. "Relax."

Maisri, freed of having to hold the barrier, ran to Buffy and focused her will on the bleeding. It had already slowed considerably, but now it stopped, and Maisri bound it up temporarily with the sleeve torn off her own shirt. Dakota took the opportunity to run to Faith's side.

The dark-haired Slayer's eyes were open, but she was obviously not seeing anything in front of her. She was breathing shallowly, and there was a pool of blood beneath her body. "Faith?" Dakota whispered. "Oh, god, baby, what... are... oh, God, Faith..."

"I'm sorry, baby..." Dakota's tears were flowing freely now, leaving faint traces of pink down her cheeks as they fell.

Then she felt a hand close on her shoulder. She looked up to see Xander kneeling next to her. "Dakota," he whispered. "If you... if she... would she... be like you?"

She looked down at the crumpled body, not comprehending, then suddenly realized what he meant and looked up at him with new hope in her eyes. "Probably," she said, a desperate wish on her face. "Oh, God, Xander, probably!"

"Then do it," he told her, reaching back to touch the stake in his back pocket. "Do it. Save her." And as he watched her lean over, gameface, and sink her fangs into her lover's throat, he prayed to whatever Power might be listening to desperate pleas today that his guess was right and that he would not have to use that stake.

Dakota drained Faith—it was a terrifyingly easy thing to do, with the amount of blood the Slayer had already lost, and then put her own wrist to her mouth, biting down hard to make her blood flow.. She put her wrist to Faith's mouth and let the blood flow, having to hold her lover at first. Then suddenly Faith's hand came up and clamped down on Dakota's wrist, holding onto her and sucking the blood out on her own. Dakota let her go as long as she could, then wrenched her arm away. Faith fell backwards and lay, gasping, and Dakota held her hand, speaking soft words of encouragement to her as her body fought its way though the vampiric transition.

Buffy regained consciousness in time to see Dakota bending over Faith, but her concern for Willow overshadowed any worry for those two. She verbally bludgeoned two of the Potentials to help her over to where Maisri was treating Willow, who was slowly returning to consciousness with apparently no memory of anything after working the spell.

Buffy sighed. "If you ever do anything like this again, I'm going to... I'm going to... well, I don't know what I'll do. But you won't like it."

"Oh, hell, I'm fine. You'll probably owe Giles a car detail and about a thousand baked cookies, though."

Willow groaned, remembering her "will be done" spell that had caused her to be in such a debt the last time. "Not again."

"Mhm. And Faith, too, I'm sure. You—he—whatever... she got slammed into a wall."

And then a shadow fell over them. They both looked up to see Dakota standing there, looking down at Willow. "Hey."

And then Faith stepped into their line of view. There was something odd about her, though they couldn't tell what it was. Then Buffy gasped. "Faith! Are you...?"

Faith nodded. "Kotie changed me. She had to—I was dying. But it's okay. Apparently it works for all Slayers."

"Don't worry about it," Faith waved it away. "Honestly, Red, I think it's better. This way, I'll be able to stick with the Academy longer. And we'll both be here to watch you two sit on the south lawn in the sunshine when you're eighty and yell at the kids about how you never acted like that when you were their age."

The four of them shared a laugh, and then Dakota picked up Buffy and Faith picked up Willow, and they carried them upstairs to the suite they'd been staying in. "I called the doctor in," Faith said. "He'll be here in half an hour or so to stitch everyone up. Until then, you guys rest."

The two daywalkers linked hands and, with a smile back at Willow and Buffy, left the room.

As the lights went out around her, Willow pulled her knees to her chest. She hadn't left the room since the battle with Rothschear two days previously, despite Buffy's reassurances that no one was angry with her over what had happened. She was too afraid of their faces.

"Faith really seems to like being a vampire," Buffy commented, changing the subject slightly. "She says it's a huge change of perspective."

Buffy frowned toward the curtained bed. Something was going to have to happen here. She suddenly smiled slightly and moved to the end of the bed. There was a tiny bit of illumination from a tea-light candle nestled in a small alcove built into the wall just for that purpose. She could see Willow sitting at the head of the bed, arms wrapped around her legs. She clambered into the bed, feeling only a tiny twinge in the spot where a potentially deadly gash had been two days before. Slayer healing strikes again, she thought and smirked as she pulled the curtains around the bed closed.

In the dim light, she slid up the bed to Willow and gently unwrapped the witch from around herself. She saw the tears of shame and guilt welling in Willow's eyes and softly wiped them away with her fingers as they spilled over. "I'm never going to do magick again," Willow whimpered as she cried. "Never. It's my fault Faith had to be a vampire, and I almost killed Giles and you and -"

"No, you didn't," Buffy interrupted her. "That wasn't you. Will..." she paused, gathering her thoughts, and then began speaking very rapidly. "Willow, the only thing you did wrong was that you overestimated your abilities. You didn't know he was out there waiting for someone like you to slip up. You didn't know what he was capable of. None of us did. We all figured him for four hundred years dead. We didn't know everything was gonna go all Exorcist on us. You were trying to do something good, something to help us. And you did it! Do you realize that? You did it! Now instead of two active Slayers, there are four. There's me, Kerry, Maria, and some little girl that the Academy didn't know about. Maisri did a seeking and found her somewhere in Ireland, believe it or not. Faith's going to go after her next week sometime. So you see, you did a good thing! It's not your fault, baby, and nobody's mad."

Willow flung herself into Buffy's arms and sobbed out her guilt as Buffy held her. When the flood of tears subsided, Buffy leaned down and captured the redhead's lips with her own. "I love you, Willow, no matter what," she whispered.

Willow's arms slowly wrapped around Buffy's body, and the Slayer took the opportunity to slide her hands up gently from Willow's hips to her neck, bringing the witch's nightshirt up with them and over her head. Willow nearly purred with excitement as she returned the favor, and their limbs began to tangle together. Buffy's mouth moved down to the side of Willow's neck, nipping and sucking just enough to leave a faint mark on the pale skin, for which she knew she would have to endure much squealing and complaining the next day. Then she slid further down, laying a trail of kisses down to the witch's breasts, which she proceeded to feast upon until she had the slim body beneath her writhing in pleasure.

Willow was whispering Buffy's name as the blonde head slowly began to move lower. She paused briefly to slide her tongue in and out of Willow's belly button in a soft semblance of what she planned to do a bit further south, and Willow moaned, her legs opening beneath Buffy to admit her to her destination. The Slayer's hands skittered teasingly up the insides of the witch's thighs, causing those muscles to jump and quiver.

She kissed her way gently over the tender firmness of Willow's belly, then slid her lips through the soft cinnamon fur, pausing a moment to breathe in the fragrance of Willow's arousal. She placed a gentle kiss at the very top of Willow's sex, then slid her tongue between the slick folds, tasting salt and musk and flicking Willow's hard little nub with her tongue.

The witch moaned at the contact, her hips straining toward Buffy, who smiled and moved directly to place a steady suction on that spot. She brought her tongue to play, drawing the rough flatness over Willow's sensitive spot, then flicking it with the tip of her tongue, until she had her lover writhing and begging for more. She obliged then, bringing up one finger and sliding it into Willow's moist channel.

Buffy could never resist and slowly added a second and third finger and then, when Willow continued to beg, a fourth. Willow, feeling filled but still somehow wanting more, bucked and strained under Buffy's touches and then suddenly knew what she wanted.

"Buffy," she choked out. "Buffy, put... put... use your whole hand. I want to feel your whole hand in me."

Buffy's eyes widened and she sat up a bit to examine Willow's face. "Baby, are you sure?"

Willow nodded, licking her lips and gasping as the motions of Buffy's hand never stopped or slowed. "I'm sure. I... I don't know if I can... but I want to try."

Buffy leaned down and kissed her lover, then took a deep breath and very gently began to insinuate her hand farther into Willow, keeping a careful watch on the witch's face to make sure that pleasurable pain never crossed the line. She coated her entire hand with Willow's essence, feeling Willow's body open to her, and then decided to take the plunge. She folded her thumb into her palm and curved her hand as much as she could then, with one smooth motion, sank her hand into Willow up to the wrist.

Willow froze, an expression on her face that Buffy couldn't interpret. She took a number of very deep breaths, her eyes screwed tightly shut, and let out a tiny moan. "Buffy... oh, Buffy..."

Willow's eyes opened, and Buffy was floored by what she saw there. They were unnaturally bright, and they seemed to stare directly through the Slayer. "Oh... Buffy... please... don't stop!"

Gently at first, then with increasing force as Willow responded to her, Buffy began to thrust her hand inside Willow. Willow's body moved with Buffy's hand, her voice giving little cries each time Buffy thrust into her. Buffy's senses were focused on Willow completely, wanting to make sure she didn't hurt her, and so she was aware when the shift began. Willow's cries took on a different timbre, the thrusts of her body became more forceful. Buffy pressed in, twisting her wrist slightly with each thrust, and then with an idea, Buffy reached with her other hand to gently caress the swollen bud above her wrist.

Willow's body convulsed, her inner walls clamping down on Buffy's arm, and she screamed Buffy's name in pleasure as her orgasm washed through her. Buffy waited until it was completely done before very gently sliding her hand out of her lover, then moved up and lay next to the panting, spent redhead. Willow rolled onto Buffy's shoulder and nuzzled into her neck. "Oh, God, Buffy..." she panted. "That was awesome."

Buffy smiled and pulled the sheet up and over both of them before pulling her lover tightly to her. "Good," she said softly. "I love you, Willow."

"I love you too, baby," Willow replied sleepily. Then she opened her eyes. "Do... do you want...?"

Buffy nodded, stroking Willow's silken hair. "I'm sure. Wake-up sex is always something to look forward to."

Willow chuckled and buried her face in Buffy's neck. The Slayer held her until she fell asleep, content to simply watch her lover sleep until the candle finally burned itself out. Then she snuggled into Willow and slept, too.

I couldn't believe my ears when I heard Maisri's report of the outcome of her locator spell.

She nodded. "Aye. There's one in New South Wales, in Australia, and there's another one in -"

She didn't get a chance to finish—the ringing of the phone interrupted her. I knew no one would be calling at this hour if it wasn't an emergency—it was three in the morning—so I grabbed the receiver. "Walsh."

"Huh?" I blinked, then recognized the voice, even though it was thick with tears. "Janna?"

"Which one of them's dead, Dakota? Is it Faith or Buffy? It's Buffy, isn't it? They finally got her."

"I got Called, Dakota!" she shouted impatiently. "I got Called! I've been trying to get you for days! I've called you, I've called Xander's, I've called Buffy's, I've called the Magic Box, nobody's been anywhere! Now tell me which one it is!"

I blinked again and looked over at Maisri. "Was the other one in south Georgia?" I asked. At her nod, I sighed and rubbed my temples. "Neither one of them's dead, Janna. Calm down and I'll tell you all about it."

"We're gonna need more Partner recruits," Faith commented that afternoon over tea in the small parlor. "We were already two short, and now we're gonna have to make permanent assignments to five newly-active Slayers, three of whom we didn't even know about."

"Five new girls," Dakota mused. "How exciting. I love it when we get new girls."

Dakota put her tongue out at Faith before biting into a blueberry scone. "I gotta tell you," she commented around the scone, "I'm thinking we don't have too much of an emergency. The only one of the girls that I'd feel comfortable letting out of the Academy yet would be Janna, and only because she spent so long training with the Council. And even so, I think we ought to have her here for a couple of months to get used to her Partner and get used to the way we do things."

"Good point," Buffy's voice agreed from the doorway. She entered, her hand held by a nervous-looking Willow and both of them followed by Giles and Xander. "And if you don't mind me making a suggestion, I think Dawn would make a good Partner for Janna. They already know each other, they got along well for the little time that they were together in Sunnydale, and they each know the other's story."

"Indeed," Giles responded. "So there are two girls who need collecting to come and train? The one in Ireland and the one in Australia?"

Dakota nodded, looking at an index card on the table next to her. "I've even got their names. The one in Ireland is a Kennedy, first name Siobhan, of Galway, aged thirteen. Her mother's a witch with whom Maisri happens to be acquainted, so Maisri is going to go collect her. The other is a Callie Westford, aged sixteen, U.S. national living in Canberra, New South Wales." She took a breath. "Now, the thing about little Miss Westford is this: she's an orphan. Both her parents, who were filthy rich, by the way, died in a car accident last fall. As far as I can tell, the kid lives in condo in downtown Canberra, happy as a little clam, with a live-in housekeeper supposedly functioning as a guardian."

"Yeah," Dakota agreed. "And I have no desire to take her by force. We don't operate that way here."

"Exactly," Faith chimed in. "She comes willingly, or we throw her to the vampires and then she comes willingly."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Giles commented. When they all turned to look at him, he pointed toward the doorway.

There stood a young woman in baggy blue jeans, an oversized University of Alabama football jersey, and skateboarding shoes. Her hair was cut short and dyed a shocking blue, and her right eyebrow was pierced. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder and several smaller bags lay at her feet. "I reckon y'all wasn't expecting me so soon," she drawled, her accent decidedly Southern-U.S. "I'm Callie Westford. I hear y'all got something going on y'all need my help."

"You heard right," Dakota replied, a grin crossing her face. "Come on in, Callie, and have a seat."

Willow, silent, suddenly thought of something. "Quentin," she blurted before she thought. All eyes turned to her. Buffy encouraged her to speak, and she continued shakily. "I... um... I was thinking about that prophecy," she began, her voice quavering.

Faith sighed. "Willow." The little witch started and looked guiltily at Faith, who continued, "Nobody's gonna jump on you, okay? You made a mistake; it's over. Could ya relax?"

Willow swallowed a couple times, nodded, and continued in a slightly firmer voice. "I was thinking about that prophecy," she repeated. "The Chosen One initiating the destruction of the Watchers and all. And I realized it's been fulfilled like twice."

"Well, think about it," she replied. "She'll turn and face the sun, conquer death and live forever... we have not just one but two daywalking vampires; and the get of the witch... well, you can look at that two ways. In one way is Faith. She said her grandmother was a witch. But the other way, is my... my... what I did. The new order, and all that."

"She's right," Dakota commented. "Go figure." Then she laughed. "It's like I always say—prophecies always come true, just not necessarily the way you'd expect."

Buffy nodded. "And for once," she deadpanned, "it was somebody besides me that had to die!"

"Oh, man," Xander commented. "That was bad. Somebody put her out of my misery, would you?"

The conversation turned light after this exchange as the adults took turns explaining to Callie just exactly what was going on. By the time they were done, the girl was shaking her head. "Ho-lee shit," she commented. "I been looking for something interesting to do. Looks like I done found it."

A pounding of feet in the corridor stopped conversation as four girls raced into the room. Buffy recognized them as the two new Slayers, Kerry and Maria, and their current Partner trainees, Jessica Nelson and Tiffany Moore. They were all out of breath. Kerry got her wind back first. "Miss Dakota, Miss Faith," she panted. "Miss Maisri... did a seeking... she said that Buffy has to go... now... get back to California... Hellmouth..."

Buffy didn't wait to hear any more. She took off running for the stairs with Willow and Xander in hot pursuit, racing to get their things packed so they could be on the first plane out of Heathrow. Giles shook his head. "I'll be back once the crisis is over," he informed Faith and Dakota, "so I shan't need to pack my things. I've more at home."

Faith turned to Kerry. "When you can walk, will you go get the car so you can drive them back?"

Kerry nodded, turning and moving out of the room. Tiffany, still panting, followed her. Maria looked up. "Any assignment for us, Miss Faith?"

"Yeah. If you don't mind, will you take Callie here up to the Potentials' dorm and get her a room?"

"You bet," Maria replied. She and Jessica began collecting Callie's bags and the young Slayer followed them out of the room.

Dakota had to laugh when Callie's question drifted back through the open door to her: "Is it always this nuts around here?"

"Nuts?" She heard Jessica reply, a laugh in her voice. "Girl, this ain't nothing. You shoulda been here three days ago. Now that was nuts."

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Into the Abyss

By Rainne

Djgirl1978@bellsouth.net