Student in Sunnydale 4.

 

Buffy looked on as Kendra and Samantha went over the wooden poles as if it were nothing. Llewellyn had a couple dozen long wooden poles embedded into his backyard, at set distances from each other. The objective was to walk over them in a squatting position, thus putting extra strain on the legs. The poles rose three meters above the ground, with a couple of them being shorter, to allow the trainees to get on and off.

Buffy wasn't used to the intensity of the training, and as such, had difficulty following the other two. What astounded her the most was the fact that Samantha was clearly better than Kendra. According to Sam, this was because she was used to doing this, while Kendra wasn't. Grunting, Buffy shook her thoughts back to reality, got up on the device, and joined in once more. She hated the fact that Kendra seemed to run off with all the praise.

Kendra read the old books. Kendra was so much more dedicated to her training. Kendra this, and Kendra that. Buffy was tired of constantly being compared to the Jamaican girl, who never seemed to question anything Llewellyn asked her to do, and who always seemed to pull it off, somehow.

Buffy's legs collapsed once again, tossing her to the ground. It was high, but not to the point where it was life threatening. Falling off the poles usually resulted in bruises. Buffy shot a glance at Llewellyn. Oh, how she wanted to hear him say that she did something right, just for once. Buffy’s gaze went to Kendra, who seemed to say you are not a true Slayer with every single look.

"Alright, that's it for today," Llewellyn said as Buffy stood up, and was preparing to get up once more. Thank you, God! Buffy silently prayed as Samantha and Kendra jumped off. Kendra had fallen maybe one or two times, while Sam hadn't fallen a single time. As the three girls went inside to shower, Buffy pulled Sam aside, to talk in private.

Samantha looked into the older girl's eyes, and smiled. "You don't like it that we're better than you, right?" the ten-year-old asked.

"I…How did you know that?" Buffy asked.

"I saw it, every time Dad changed the exercises, and Kendra showed that she was better than you. You don't like it, right?"

Buffy just nodded dejectedly. "Could you help me? I mean, seeing that you even have Kendra beat…"

"That's only because I have more experience. As Slayers, it won't take long for you two to surpass me. But, helping you…it's not easy. I mean Dad trains you just outside your comfort zone. It's easy, doesn't hurt much, and it doesn't have chances of spraining or pulling anything."

"But how come you're better than Kendra? I mean, she's had more training than you have," Buffy sounded really confused, a sentiment that reflected in her brown eyes. Samantha's smile lessened somewhat.

"I…I don't know how much you know about me," Samantha answered. "You see, my first two years, I grew up in an orphanage… and then, Dad took me in. I used to watch his every training." Samantha's eyes took on a distant look, reflecting all over the young girl's face. "I had a sword in my hands before I went to kindergarten."

"What?" Buffy asked. "You carried a sword that early?" she repeated dumbly, staring astonished at Samantha.

"Well, I didn't exactly carry it. And Dad sure didn't like me taking it from the stand without his knowledge," Sam confessed.

Buffy couldn't help but give two dry snorts in laughter. Samantha stared at the Slayer, and retorted, "It wasn't funny. Dad was really mad. But, I also knew that I wanted to be like him. I wanted to be strong, and defend the world, like he did. So, Dad agreed to train me."

"You were able to make that decision at that age?" Buffy asked.

"Well, for a three-year-old, being a hero is like the coolest job in the world. So, yeah, I wanted to. And then Dad started training me. Sure, it hurt. And it was tough. But I never minded it… because I was still young. And being young, the body and the mind are still flexible…and can adapt to anything, you know? Well, as such, I have a very high pain threshold. I feel the pain, but it doesn't bother me nearly as much as other people."

"How does that help me?" Buffy asked, bringing the conversation back to the original topic. 

Samantha smiled again. "Because I train alone, on top of my father's training. That's how I became as good as I am. I receive formal training whenever Dad finds some time, and I train myself during the evenings, or weekends, or whenever I have some time. Only, I do it with weighed clothing."

"Wow," Buffy said, awed. "Why? I mean Llewellyn doesn't let you fight…"

"For when I can fight, Buffy. Besides, I like to know that I am strong, and that I can endure pain and exhaustion. It's…it gives you confidence, you know? Yeah, you probably do know, because you're the Slayer."

Buffy just nodded. "So you'll help me?" she asked hopefully.

"If you're willing. It won't be easy…Dad teaches us at a comfortable mortal level, with little or no chance of injuries. But, I've been reading in his journals on how he trained Uncle Crevan…you know, Immortal training. And I've also been reading his journals of when Dad trained under Master Lucious; that was Dad's Immortal teacher. If you want me to make you strong, you'll be pushed to the limits."

"He lets you read his diaries?" Buffy asked.

"Sure. I mean, it's not like they contain anything that's secret…the books with secrets are stored at the Vault. All I needed to do was to learn the languages the journals are written in," Samantha explained. "So, what do you say? Still want me to push you?"

"I don't know…" Buffy was really starting to doubt her decision to ask the girl.

"If you're not sure, than you better not get started. Only when you're really sure are you able to bring yourself to transcend your limits and achieve greatness," Samantha lectured. It had been drilled into her since she was young, and Sam had always taken it to heart. She went flat out for everything she did. The look on Buffy's face clearly indicated she didn't like to be lectured, and certainly not be a girl that was six years younger than she was.

"All you have to do is find a focal point, Buffy. Why do you want to become strong? Answer that, and focus on it. It'll give you the strength to go deeper when things get tough."

Buffy thought about that question. Why did she want to be strong? Why did it bother her so much that Kendra was better than her? It's not like she wanted to be the better Slayer. In fact, Buffy had always resented the 'job'. She should be more than glad to hand over things to Kendra. So why didn't she? Buffy's thoughts dwelled.

The blonde Slayer knew that her view on Slaying had changed over the recent weeks, along with Llewellyn's arrival. And with Kendra here, she was no longer the only Slayer to be trained by Llewellyn. Yes, it bothered her. Just as much as it bothered her how Kendra kept acting so superior, just because she had been trained from an early age.

Buffy wanted to swipe that smirk of the darker-skinned Slayer's face. She opened her eyes, Kendra's superior attitude burned onto her retina. As Buffy started to answer, Sam held up her small hand. "It's private," Sam said. "I don’t need to know."

"If you say so," Buffy answered with a cool voice. Sam smiled.

"Good. I can see it in your eyes: such fire, such passion. If you can only sustain it during our training sessions, you'll be up to speed in no time."

"Good," Buffy answered. Confusion hit her. Why did she want to beat Kendra that bad? She shouldn't… it wasn't a very honorable reason to want training.

Samantha patiently stared at her student. "Why are you confused?" the girl asked when Buffy's eyes refocused on the real world.

"I…My reason. I know you don't want to know, but I…I want to be better than Kendra." Buffy's voice sounded confused, as well as scared. Scared of what Samantha would say.

"So?" Sam asked. "Why is that bad?"

Buffy stared at Sam. "You're not going to yell at me?"

"Why should I? Wanting to become better than someone else is one of the most primal motives in the human psyche. As long as it's a drive, like a friendly competition, it's actually a very good motive," Samantha explained. “And maybe you can get some praise from Dad in the process,” the girl added with a small smirk.

As Buffy stared at the ten-year-old, Sam shrugged. "Been moonlighting in Dad's psychology books," the raven-haired girl whispered. “And I saw the look in your eyes every time he complimented Kendra, and how you kept looking at him every time you fell, or something didn’t go as planned.”

"There sure is more to you than meets the eye," Buffy told the girl. "I never would have thought…"

"I've always liked reading. Knowing a lot of big words tends to scare off bullies. Most tend to become very confused when you call them a division of excrement."

Buffy stared at Sam, not knowing what to say. Interpreting the older girl's looks correctly, Sam explained, "A piece of shit."

"I can imagine," Buffy said, shaking her head. "You're really something, Sam. A real piece of work."

"You haven't seen me fight yet," Samantha told Buffy. "How about we start tomorrow?"

"Sure. After training with Llewellyn?" Buffy asked. Sam shook her head. "Between school and training with Lew?" Again, Sam shook her head. "During lunch?" Buffy asked, getting scared now. When would she eat? But, Sam shook her head once more.

"Six fifteen in the morning. We'll start with a nice run. Since you don't have any weighed clothing yet, I'll tie some bricks to your hands."

"Wha–" Buffy stared at the girl who ran up the stairs to take her shower. Buffy grunted, and followed the smaller girl dejectedly. When Kendra's smirking face entered the blonde's mind, along with one of her usual remarks along the lines of 'A Slayer should be strong', Buffy's eyes filled with the fire Sam had seen earlier. Buffy ran up the stairs, almost unable to wait to see the results.

 

The next few days, Sam contented herself with giving Buffy some basic Tai-chi training, and enhanced endurance training. The following Saturday, the ten-year-old promised Buffy that everything would change. Much to the blonde Slayer's surprise, they went to the mall.

"What are we doing here?" Buffy asked. "I thought you said…"

"Yep. But it's very hard to ride a horse without a decent saddle."

"Huh? What?" Buffy asked.

"I see you're as confused by my father's expressions as I am," Sam said, laughing. "It means that we need equipment for your training."

"And how are you going to pay for that?" Buffy asked the younger girl, who held up a credit card as answer.

"Plastic," she answered.

"The store owners just accept a ten-year-old using a credit card?" the Slayer asked unbelievingly.

"They know me," Sam answered back. "Besides, we're not going to just any store."

Buffy shook her head at her young companion. "Okay, Sam. Time-out. Where are we going?" Buffy asked angrily, as she stopped, and turned the raven-haired pre-immoral to face her.

"We're going to see a friend of my father's. We buy all our equipment from him," Samantha answered. "He used to be in LA, but he followed us here."

Buffy shook her head in wonder once again as the two resumed their brisk walk through the mall. Buffy couldn't shake the feeling that the girl knew precisely where she was going. Finally, she entered a store that sold specialized sports equipment.

"Special Equipment, inc.?" Buffy asked as she walked in right behind Sam. The store was large, with racks lining the wall, filled with all sorts of equipment. There was mountaineering equipment, martial arts equipment, various workout devices, and so on.

Sam walked right up to the man behind the counter. He was oriental, about Buffy's height, and appeared to be around 60 years old. His hair was beginning to turn gray, and his face was beginning to show signs of age. Buffy looked on as Sam bowed to the man, and said, "Chi-Bang. It is good to see you again."

The man returned the greeting, and Buffy could see him bowing deeper than the girl had. She didn't understand Japanese customs, but she did know that the man paid her respect. "It is good to see you too, Samantha. How can I help you?"

Samantha turned around, allowing the man a good look of Buffy. "Chi-Bang Lee, I wish you to meet Buffy Summers, my… erm…student, for the lack of a better term. Buffy, meet Chi-Bang Lee, a good friend of my father's, the man who can find anything concerning martial arts equipment, or anything else for that matter."

"Hello," Buffy said, giving the man a smile in greeting. Chi-Bang dipped his head in answer.

"What is it you need, Samantha?" the oriental man asked.

"We need to gear Buffy up, Chi-Bang. Weighed clothing. We still have plenty of training weapons at home, and we don't need any other special equipment just yet."

The man stepped from behind his counter, and looked Buffy up and down, making the blonde Slayer uneasy as his eyes slid down her figure.

"Gloves, boots, and jacket?" the man asked the ten-year old.

"Of course. And pants, too. Oh, and do you still have those heavy undergarments you sold me last time? And if you do, do you have them in Buffy's size?"

"I have them," the man answered, giving Buffy another look-over. "How many sets of each, and in which weights?" he asked as he disappeared into the storage area at the back of the store.

"Two pairs of gloves, one set of boots, one jacket, two pairs of pants, and two sets of the heavy underwear. And make them as heavy as you can."

"Hey wait a minute! Isn't that way too heavy? And I don't need any underclothes!" Buffy protested in Sam's ear.

"You don't want to try normal underclothes under those weighed clothes. They'll rub the skin right off your bones. I know. And as to the weights: you're the Slayer. I need to compensate for your enhanced strength," Samantha answered in a calm voice.

"Oh. I see. Good call," Buffy answered, straightening out. Her face clearly showed her sentiments. What have I gotten myself into?

"I have normal white, midnight black and cherry red," Chi-bang said from the storage area. Samantha looked at Buffy.

"I think black will suit her best, Chi-Bang," Sam told the man. A few minutes later, the man returned with a load of boxes. He was panting, so much was obvious, and Buffy wondered once again whether or not to run like the wind.

"The gloves, boots, pants, jacket, and the heavy underwear. Would you care to try them on? The clothing booths are over there." The oriental man pointed to some doors at the side of the store. Instead of normal booths, with curtains, these booths had doors and were built into the store itself.

Buffy nodded, picked up a couple of boxes, and grunted. She shot a very angry look at Samantha, who innocently looked back. Buffy subsequently disappeared into one of the clothing booths. As Buffy was out of hearing range, Chi-bang asked Sam, "She is not regular, am I right?"

Sam shook her head. "You are still very observing, Chi-Bang. She is the Slayer. And she is…you know…as well."

"An Immortal Slayer? Demons beware," Chi-Bang said, voice thick in awe. Buffy returned soon after, looking mighty impressive in her all-black outfit. She stopped in front of the two people, spread her arms, and turned around. The jacket and pants looked every bit like a standard kenjutsu gi: leaving plenty of room to maneuver, but providing protection at the same time. The boots were of the combat variety, while the gloves were leather in appearance, but with extra grip padding added to the palm regions, allowing for extra grip when using a sword. 

"Looks like it fits," Sam commented.

"They fit just fine. But they weight a ton! How can I train in these? I can hardly move!" Buffy commented.

"You will. You'll be surprised at how fast your body will adapt to the extra weights," Sam said with a small smile. Buffy sighed, and decided to follow her 'teacher' for the moment. After all, it wasn't as if they hurt her…yet.

"Each glove weighs five kilograms. The jacket weighs 20 kilos, and the boots weigh ten kilos each. The pants weigh 15," Chi-Bang told Buffy. He then turned to Sam, and said, "I could find heavier varieties if it need be. Just let me know in time."

"Thank you, Chi-Bang," Samantha answered as she followed the man to the counter. "Is there anything you want, Buffy?" the girl asked over her shoulder.

"No, except for getting out of these clothes!" Buffy grunted.

"First training. You'll wear them until we're home. It doesn't really matter how long it takes, just try to get us there before dinner," Sam joked. Buffy let out a moan.

"Okay, looks like we have everything. How much is together, Chi-Bang?"

"Seven hundred and forty-eight dollars, and sixteen cents," the man answered out of the top of his head as he started typing on the registry. Samantha handed him the credit card, and the man dutifully ran it through the machine. Sam signed, startling Buffy to the fact that the girl could just sign for 750 dollars worth of clothes, and the two of them walked out of the store.

"Seven hundred and fifty dollars worth of clothes. I better live up to your expectations, then," Buffy joked. The weights were heavy, but not extraordinarily so. Those clothes may have weighed a lot for normal people, but Buffy's enhanced Slayer strength compensated, just like Sam had predicted.

"You better," Sam quipped back. "Or I'll have you washing dishes to pay them off."

"Very funny, Sam. Very, very funny."

"Thought so," the girl said, obviously pleased with herself.

 

Buffy managed to get back to the house without too much difficulty. Granted, the clothes were heavy, but they were not overly so. But still, Buffy was panting by the time they arrived back at Llewellyn's mansion. The walk had drained her of her energy.

 

Over the course of the next few days, Buffy began to realize that Samantha hadn't been kidding when she said that it would hurt. Every training session they had together, Buffy was wearing her weighed clothing.

"Okay. Next exercise," Sam said, showing Buffy to a part of the garden that sported four trees, forming a square. Buffy didn't know the variety of trees, but did notice that all of them sported branches that were reasonably close to the ground. The four most inward branches sported a rope, with a brick tied to the end of it. Samantha stood erect in the exact middle of the square, cornered by the four trees.

"The exercise goes like this," Sam began. "You hit the left brick with your right hand, switch, and hit the right brick with your left hand. Then comes the tricky part. You jump up, hit the rear-left brick with your right leg, and hit the rear-right brick with your left leg."

Buffy stared at the girl. "Like this," Sam continued, seemingly oblivious to the look Buffy was shooting her. Samantha lunged with her right hand at the left brick. It broke in two as she hit it. She crossed, breaking the right brick with her left hand. Samantha gave a small cry as she flung her young body into the air, forcing it to spin along its length-axis. In mid-air, her legs shot out, executing a split. Her right leg hit the left brick. It broke. Her left leg hit the right brick, and it swung away with great speed, yet didn't break. Samantha landed, and stared at the brick.

"Break, damn you!" she shouted, hitting it with her right hand. The brick shattered into six smaller pieces. Samantha righted herself, and looked at Buffy.

"I'm not strong enough to pull it off 100%," Samantha apologized. "But you should do fine."

Stepping out of the square, Samantha motioned for the square. Sighing, Buffy got into position.

"Sam…You’ve already made me do 100 pushups in these clothes. Can't I at least take off the jacket?" Buffy pleaded.

"Buffy…" Sam said, sighing. She seemed to think for a moment, and finally said, "I know you're hurting, Buffy. But, remember your goal. Whenever you feel alone, afraid, cold, tired, or in pain, think of your goal. Think of your motivation. Draw strength from it."

Buffy closed her eyes, and envisioned Kendra. Cool Kendra. Perfect Kendra. Arrogant Kendra. Buffy's eyes opened, and a grim look of determination came over Buffy's features. Screaming, she lunged for the new bricks Samantha had hung up.

Samantha smiled. You're a fighter, Buffy. You're a much better fighter than you know, and I will make you realize it. 

 

Buffy groaned as she sunk against the wall, her legs unable to support her body anymore. The Slayer winced at the sharp pain in her punished hands, chafed from hitting bricks. Samantha sat down next to the Slayer. The chafes healed fast, but the pain lingered.

"You alright?" Sam asked.

Buffy shook her head. Samantha put a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "You did very, very well, Buffy. Believe me, it will pay off. Come on, you deserve a good rest. Do you think you can make it to the third floor?" Buffy's pleading eyes met Sam's.

"Guess not," Samantha answered. "Can you make it without the weighed clothes? I can get you a bathrobe. Believe me, it will be worth it."

Buffy sighed, forced herself to her legs. "I'll make it," she grunted, determined.

Samantha broke out a wide smile. "You will beat her if you go on like this, Buffy. Always remember that your body can go deeper than Hell, if you put your mind to it," Samantha said, smiling widely. She led her charge into the house. Buffy followed, every step painful in the weighed clothing.

It took them almost ten minutes to get to where Samantha wanted them to go. She pushed open the door to the large therapy room, taking up half of the third floor.

 

"You can get out of those weighed clothes now. And you slide into that bath. I'll be right back with some herbs that will drain the pain and stiffness right out of your joints and muscles," Samantha said, pointing to a large tub, able to contain at least eight people.

"Yes, it's a whirlpool," Samantha answered Buffy's gaze. The Slayer started disrobing. Dutifully, she hung up her weighed clothing. By the time Samantha had returned, Buffy was in the tub.

"Warm enough?" Samantha asked as she started pouring different colored liquids into the warm water. Her small fingers manipulated the controls, bringing the water-jets to life. Buffy grunted as the moving water raced over her sore body. She relaxed almost instantly after the initial shock. Unable to identify the scent of the herbs, Buffy felt herself slipping into a very relaxed state.

"Just…fine," Buffy muttered.

"Okay, then," the ten-year-old answered. "I'll be back in about an hour, okay?"

"Okay…" Buffy muttered, before slipping closer to sleep.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure no one barges in," Samantha promised before leaving the room. Buffy didn't hear the comment.

 

True to her word, Samantha returned an hour later, to find Buffy just waking up.

"Great timing, Sam," the Slayer told her young teacher. Samantha smiled, the usual twinkle in her eyes. Buffy noticed that the girl always seemed to have a mischievous twinkle whenever she smiled.

"Enjoy your bath?" the girl asked. Buffy stretched, and purred like a cat.

"Oh, yeah," the blonde responded.

"I told you it would get rid of those aches and pains," Samantha said, smiling broadly. "Now, care for a massage?" Buffy shrugged, and noted that her muscles behaved sluggishly.

"I think I could use one. But who's going to give it to me? You?"

"Unless you want Dad to see you in your present state, I'm all you've got," Samantha replied, her smile melting rapidly. Buffy could see that her remark must have stung. She could have slapped herself. Samantha did her best, and here Buffy was, making snide comments.

"Sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to put you down. Now, where do I go?" Buffy apologized. Sam's smile came back to full power.

 "That's the massage table," the girl answered, pointing to a table not very far away. "You can get on. I'll be right back with the massage oil."

"Okay," Buffy replied, walking over, and getting up on, the massage table. Her muscles still behaved sluggishly.

"I'll start with your back," Samantha said as she walked up to Buffy. "I used to need this a lot," Samantha confided in Buffy, who had turned over.

The moment the oil hit her body; Buffy could feel it tingling on her skin. It wasn't uncomfortable, but a pleasant, soothing sensation. Then Sam started the massage. "I'm not as good as my father is. Not by a long shot. But, I think I have the main parts down," Samantha said as she continued the massage. Buffy muttered something unintelligible in response.

Ten minutes later, Buffy startled awake rudely as Sam asked her to turn over. With a grunt, Buffy confessed, "I fell asleep…"

Buffy didn't expect the beaming gratitude on Sam's face.

"That’s a really big compliment, you know. It not only means I did my part right, but it also means you trust me enough to actually let me touch you while you sleep. You can't pay a higher compliment to a masseur." Buffy smiled. Sam's good moods were contagious. Once more, the Slayer drifted off as Sam's small hands found the kinks, and gently worked them out.

The next morning, Buffy hardly felt what she had done in her grueling training the day before. Samantha told her that the massage and the herbal bath were responsible for it. Buffy was most surprised when Samantha apologized, telling the blonde Slayer that the small amount of discomfort was the result of her inexperience at giving massages. Buffy smiled it off, telling the younger girl that she hardly felt anything.

 

“Very good, Buffy! You’re really making progress!” Llewellyn said as Buffy almost ran over the pole-course in her squatting position. The continuous use of weighed clothing in her spare time had strengthened the blonde Slayer’s legs considerably.

Buffy smiled at the compliment. “Sam’s been helping me out,” Buffy told her teacher, shooting a beaming smile at Samantha.

“Really? And just what has my daughter been teaching you?” the elder Immortal replied, looking curiously from Buffy to Sam.

“She put me in weighed clothing, and put me through some of her exercises,” Buffy replied.

 “In other words, you suffered,” Llewellyn deducted.

“Hey! I took good care of her!” Samantha shot in. Buffy nodded in agreement.

“Yes, she has. She’s been massaging me after our training, and stuff like that,” Buffy defended the ten-year-old.

“You could have told me,” Llewellyn said to the two girls. “I don’t like being kept in the dark about things like this.”

“Sorry, Dad. But this was…well, personal,” Samantha told her father. “Buffy asked me to help her, and I gave it to her. I respected her privacy.”

Llewellyn held up his hands. “Hey, I understand privacy. You didn’t have to tell me any reasons, just a note that you were helping Buffy catch up would have been enough,” Llewellyn said. “Anyway, back to training. Everyone, line up! Hand-to-hand training is next.”

Kendra, Buffy, and Sam lined up. “Here’s the order,” Llewellyn began.

Samantha walked up to his, and whispered in his ear, “Maybe you should put Kendra and Buffy against each other, Dad.”

“Why?” the Immortal whispered back. “We usually put Kendra against me, and Buffy against you, before switching. Why change now?”

“Dad…please?” Samantha asked.

Llewellyn sighed. “It’s Buffy, isn’t it?” he asked. “She’s jealous of Kendra.”

Samantha let out her breath. “Not exactly jealous…she just wants to be better. She’s an Immortal; I can’t say I blame her. But, I’m afraid that, if this goes on, Buffy will grow to hate Kendra instead of just being in competition with her.”

“You know, for a ten-year-old, you sure know a lot about psychology,” Llewellyn said, laughing. He straightened out.

“Buffy, you and Kendra. I want to see how far you both are,” the Immortal said. The two Slayers straightened out. Buffy gaped from Sam to Kendra to Llewellyn, and back to Sam. Shooting the young girl a dark look, she stepped forward, to where Kendra was already waiting.

“Think with your mind, not with your heart,” Samantha told Buffy as she walked past the blonde Slayer.

“Now, girls, remember: this is sparring. I don’t want anyone hurt, got it? Now, go!” Llewellyn shouted. Alright, Buffy. This is it… Sam gave you this opportunity. Make her proud. Buffy bowed to Kendra. Always bow to your opponent. Buffy saw Samantha smile out of the corner of her eye. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Don’t screw up. Buffy used what Sam had taught her, and took a couple of deep breaths, calming herself. 

Buffy’s body centered itself instinctively. Having Kendra in front of her disrupted the attempt at first, but she calmed herself further, effectively centering herself.

Kendra shot a high kick at Buffy, who expertly ducked under it. While Kendra recovered, the blonde lunged for the darker-skinned Slayer.

Kendra’s high leg shot down in a devastating drop-kick, forcing the blonde to roll out of the way. Samantha hadn’t taught her much in the way of martial arts techniques. Mostly, the girl’s training had focused on physical strength, and enduring pain. And endurance. Buffy had stamina, knew her body could go very, very deep, and she knew how it behaved. Buffy now had some realization of her potential. Did Kendra?

Kendra’s right fist shot out, fully intending to hit Buffy square in the face. Buffy’s hand shot out by pure reflex. Her right hand shot out, crossed, and knocked Kendra’s hand out of the way.

Buffy had struck with the same devastating accuracy, strength, and speed required to shatter the brick in Sam’s exercise. Kendra’s right hand, coming in on Buffy’s left, was an almost identical target.

Kendra grunted in pain as her hand was brutally knocked aside. Then came the second part, as Buffy’s left hand lunged for Kendra. It crossed, going for the left part of Kendra’s face. It halted barely in front of the Jamaican. No one doubted that Buffy could have done serious damage, even if she had only hit with her open palm.

“Did I do that? How did I do that?” Buffy asked, as she retreated to her starting position.

“The tree exercise, remember? Cross-hit?” Samantha asked. Llewellyn walked over to the two girls after examining Kendra’s right hand.

“Just a bruise, nothing serious. That was very impressive, Buffy,” he told the blonde Slayer. Then, he turned to Sam. “And you, young lady, are going to tell me right here and now what you did to ingrain those moves into Buffy’s muscles.”

Sam told him. Llewellyn shook his head.

 

Weeks went on, and practice continued. Where Llewellyn’s stayed more or less the same, Sam’s increased. Buffy kept finding new strengths in herself, strength she had never thought she possessed. The weights in her clothes stayed the same, but the distance, repetitions, and intensity of the exercises increased.

Llewellyn had started teaching her swordplay as well, with Buffy using a katana from the elder Immortal’s extensive armory. Buffy’s Slayer-enhanced learning made her a quick study.

Buffy was now to the point where she and Samantha trained at the same pace. It was good for the Slayer’s esteem to see her teacher huffing and sweating along with her. She had come to the point where she no longer used Kendra as a goal. After her second, almost humiliating, victory a week after her first, Buffy had given up all pretenses. She was better than Kendra was, thanks to Samantha.

Llewellyn had asked Kendra to join the two others in an exercise some time ago. The dark-skinned Slayer only did it once. She neither possessed Sam’s experience, nor Buffy’s Immortality, to endure the pain and hardship of Sam’s workout schedule. That was the final acknowledgement Buffy needed. She could stop now, and just go on with Llewellyn’s schedule, and it was very likely Kendra would be unable to catch up.

Then why didn’t she stop? Buffy asked herself the same question. Why didn’t she stop? She realized the answer soon. Sam challenged her, in a way no one or no thing had ever challenged her before. And Buffy liked the feeling of victory over yet another grueling exercise.

Buffy noticed the group startling as she walked into the living room. She had just showered after an especially intense after-dinner workout with Sam, and the tingling feeling of conquest still lingered in the blonde.

“Hey, guys,” Buffy greeted her friends after she plumped down in one of the living room seats. “Anything special happening tonight? Or is this just another patrol?”

“Nothing special, really,” Giles replied.

“Okay, then. Normal patrol. No biggie,” Buffy answered, smiling. As everyone looked at her, Buffy looked uncomfortably back. “Is there something wrong, guys?” the Slayer asked.

“Uh, Buffy…it has come to my attention that you’ve become…well, somewhat casual about your duties as a Slayer,” Giles ventured. Buffy relaxed, let her breath escape. She had no idea she had been holding it.

“Oh. Well, with all the stuff Lew and Sam have been pouring into me, it’s become a lot easier. And, well… with Kendra here…two Slayers in such a small area, the vampires have no chance.”

“I see,” Giles replied. “As long as you take it seriously…”

Buffy broke a wide smile. “Don’t worry, Giles,” she said, turning deadly serious. “I’m taking things very seriously.” Right after that, her smile came back.

“See you guys later, ok?” Buffy said as she yelled up the stairs for Kendra. Moments later, the two Slayers were out the door, Buffy carrying the practice-katana Llewellyn had given her. Kendra was carrying a sword from her own armory: a Gim, or Chinese straight sword.

 

Over the next few days, Buffy noticed things kept getting stranger. First, it was just her friends who startled as she approached, abruptly breaking off whatever conversation they were holding. Then, Llewellyn and Sam started doing the same thing. What really miffed Buffy was the fact that recently, Sam and Llewellyn seemed to have joined Buffy’s friends in their secretive talks.

Finally no longer able to contain herself, Buffy asked one evening, “So, what were you guys talking about before I came in?”

“Nothing,” Llewellyn answered smoothly. Too smoothly for Buffy’s taste.

“Must be an interesting nothing, since you were talking about it before I came in, and you stopped as soon as I joined you,” Buffy replied.

“It was just talk, Buff,” Xander said. “You know, stuff.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “What stuff?” She planted her hands in her sides, and asked firmly, “You’re not planning a surprise birthday party, are you?” She got nothing out of the expressions before her, surprising Buffy. Normally, she could read her friends pretty well.

“No. Just….stuff,” Sam replied. “You know, stuff.”

“You too, Sam?” Buffy asked theatrically.

Llewellyn interjected, “I think the expression you’re looking for is ‘et tu, Sam?’.“

“I give up! You want to keep secrets? Fine, keep secrets! See if I care!” Buffy rumbled, flopping back in the leather seat, arms crossed in front of her, and expression dark.

“Yes, well, It’s time for your round anyway,” Giles told Buffy.

“Ooh! You…! Argh!” Buffy exclaimed, before storming off… right outside the front door.

“She’s angry,” Samantha stated superfluously. “Are you sure she’ll forgive us?”

“As soon as she sees what we have planned, she will,” Llewellyn replied. “I just hope we made the right choice.”

“She’ll love it, Llewellyn,” Giles said. All of Buffy’s friends nodded in total agreement, assuring Llewellyn that they were doing the right thing.

 

The next morning, Buffy didn’t feel any different. But she knew. It was her birthday today. She also knew that her father was going to take her to the Ice Capades. It had been so long since she had seen him…

Buffy’s mother wished her a happy birthday. Buffy knew, from the moment she had seen her mother, that something was wrong.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Buffy asked after she sat down for breakfast.

“Buffy…Honey…” Buffy’s eyes fell on a bouquet of flowers and a card. Before her mother could say another word, Buffy’s face fell. Tears appeared in her eyes.

“It’s Dad, isn’t it?” Buffy asked, dejected. With a sad face, Joyce handed over the card. Buffy read it.

“A stinking business meeting?” Buffy cried out. “He stood me up for a lousy meeting?”

“Buffy, Honey…” Joyce’s face was as sad as her voice. “I know how much this meant to you…”

“Oh, well, it’s just a stupid skating thing,” Buffy said. “I’m too old for the Ice Capades anyway!” Buffy took the tickets her father had sent her, and ripped them to shreds, before running from the house.

“Oh, Honey…” Joyce sighed, looking at the ripped-up tickets. Damn you, Hank, she cursed her ex-husband. How could you do that to your daughter?

At Llewellyn’s house, Buffy had somehow managed to slip into the training room in the basement without being noticed by anyone. Making her way over to the bench, she slipped 120 kilos onto the bar, weighing 20 kilos by itself. She ignored the fact that she only pressed 80 normally.

As tears streamed over her face, she started relieving her anger on the bar. Up and down. Up and down. Ten times. Twenty times. Thirty times. Forty times.

She noticed a shadow standing behind the bench. She didn’t look through her tears. Fifty times. Buffy wanted to go further. The burning in her arms had intensified considerably. Her father’s face fluttered in front of her mind’s eye. Sixty times. The shadow shuffled uncomfortably. Buffy ignored it. Seventy times. Her arms felt like lead. Her lungs burned, and her heart raced.

“Buffy.” Sam’s voice. Buffy startled; her grip on the bar fell. Before it could hit her chest, two strong hands had gripped it, and hauled it to the stand. Only now did Buffy note who the shadow was: Llewellyn. Samantha was standing at her side, a worried look on her face.

“What’s happened?” Sam asked. “I’ve never seen you like this. It scares me.”

“Nothing,” Buffy muttered, getting up. Fresh tears sprung to her eyes as she moved her arms. They were dead. Literally. “Why would anything have happened?”

“Because it’s your birthday,” Llewellyn said.

“So?” Buffy answered gruffly, fresh tears steaming down her cheeks. Good as their intentions might have been, reminding her of her birthday reminded her of her father.

Llewellyn guided the Slayer to the living room, with Sam following nearby. Llewellyn sat her down, put his arm around her shoulders, and asked, “Tell me, Buffy. What’s happened?

“Nothing. Just because I wanted to go to the Ice Capades with Dad, doesn’t mean anything has happened.”

“Buffy, please…I can’t help you unless you tell me,” Llewellyn told Buffy.

“I…I…Dad always took me to the Ice Capades on my birthday. An…And today… he… he… stood me up!” Buffy cried, burying herself in Llewellyn’s side. He hugged her tight.

Llewellyn and Sam exchanged a look. “Buffy, did he say a reason?”

Buffy’s head shot up. “He didn’t say anything! He sent me a card!! He wrote he had a business meeting!” She buried herself again. “I tore up the tickets he sent…” she sobbed

Llewellyn needed his 1700 years of control not to tense up. His face said it all. Sam was worse. Her small body had tensed up completely, a dangerous glint in her eyes. I feel it too, Sam. I would rip out his guts and feed them to him, Llewellyn thought to his daughter.

Letting the teenager cry, Llewellyn’s mind started thinking. I need to do something. Something to take her mind off her father…As Llewellyn was thinking, he didn’t notice Sam slipping out of the room.

A couple minutes later, she returned, carrying a guide to one thing or another. She held it up to Llewellyn. The grand ice show in San Francisco? That’s this afternoon… everything is sold out. Then, Llewellyn’s eyes fell on some fine print, and his face displayed a smile.

“Buffy?” Llewellyn asked gently. “I know it’s only a small consolation, but…I could take you, if you want,” he offered.

Buffy slowly shook her head. Sitting up, she looked at Llewellyn. “Thanks, but…”

Llewellyn smiled gently. “I know I can’t replace him. No one ever will. But Buffy, this is a special day. Please, let me do something to make it memorable.”

“I appreciate it, Lew. I really do… but…” Buffy was doubting, and both Llewellyn and Sam knew it.

“Go with him, Buffy. Take it from someone who has experience. Dad knows how to make a day memorable.”

“How about the grand ice show in SF?” Llewellyn offered. “I know, it’s not the Ice Capades…”

“That show’s been sold out for months! Dad couldn’t get tickets!” Buffy practically squealed.

“Let’s see what I can arrange,” Llewellyn said, taking his cell phone. He dialed a number, again from memory. Buffy no longer questioned the man’s ability to store a small phone book in his memory.

“Pete? It’s Lew. Listen, I need a return favor. I need two tickets to the show.” Llewellyn held the phone a little away from his ear, obviously trying to keep ‘Pete’ from yelling too loud.

Buffy’s face fell. Llewellyn’s heart felt like it was breaking. He cared as much for her as he did for his daughter, and he was damned if he wasn’t going to use every bit of pull he could get. “Listen, Pete, this is the situation: I have a student, and she likes ice-skating. Yes, I know that there are lots of girls who like skating, but this is different. It’s her seventeenth birthday, and I want to do something special.”

Llewellyn seemed to listen to a couple of seconds of silence. When he got an answer, his face was smiling. “Thanks, Pete. I really appreciate it. Of course you’ll be paid. Don’t worry.”

Llewellyn turned off the phone, and turned to Buffy. “I hope you will do the honor of accompanying this old man to the grand ice show in San Francisco this afternoon?”

“Really? You got tickets?” Buffy squealed.

“I got us luxury booth number one. It has the best view in the place,” Llewellyn answered. “It was reserved for some big company to hold a business meeting in. They just got transferred to a nearby congress center. Better accommodations, but no view,” Llewellyn added the latter in a joking tone. “Don’t worry, Buffy. I wouldn’t have accepted if the people were there to actually watch the show.”

“Okay,” Buffy said, smiling. Hugging the man, she said, “Thanks, Lew. I really, really appreciate it.”

“No problem, Buffy. Glad to do it. We leave here in two hours, so I think you’d better get ready,” Llewellyn told her pleasantly. “And from now on, everything’s a surprise. We’ll have dinner in San Francisco. Might be around eight or so by the time we get back.”

Sam smiled broadly. “Are you in for a treat,” the girl told Buffy. “Whenever Dad says something like that, it’s gonna be…well…surprising, to say the least. Prepare to be dazzled.”

Buffy just sat there, overwhelmed. “Waitaminute! I thought we were just going to the ice show?”

“Well, it’s in San Francisco,” Llewellyn told her, smiling. “We need to get there. Besides, I want to throw some money around. Have some fun with my student on her birthday. What’s wrong with that?”

Buffy shook her head. “Nothing…I guess I’d better go tell Mom, then.”

“I can come with you, if you want,” Llewellyn offered. “Your mother hasn’t seen me that much, after all…”

Buffy smiled, a welcome sight to Llewellyn and Sam. “Thanks, but I think I can handle my Mom.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Llewellyn said pleasantly, as he stood up along with the blonde Slayer. He and Sam escorted Buffy to the door.

“Thanks for cheering me up, guys. I really needed it,” Buffy said, as she was about to leave.

“You’re most welcome, Buffy. Remember, my door is always open. Any time of any day, I’m here for you,” Llewellyn told Buffy.

“We,” Sam said. “We are always here for you.”

“Thanks, guys,” Buffy said, smiling as she left the mansion. She didn’t hear the door close until she was well away. Somehow, knowing that she was looked after made her feel better.

 

Some hours later, Buffy had made her way back to Llewellyn’s mansion. Her mother had reluctantly agreed. Llewellyn had a limo waiting for her.

“I told you to prepare,” Sam replied at Buffy’s shocked face. Buffy smiled, thanked Llewellyn again, and got in the stretch car. It pulled out of the driveway soon after.

When Buffy saw the car make its way to LA, she questioned her companion. “Where are we going? I thought you said San Francisco?” There was no anger in her voice, just curiosity.

“We’re taking the jet at LAX,” Llewellyn replied. “A lot faster than driving. We’ll have lunch in San Francisco, then roam some malls, spend some money, and make our way to the ice show. After that, we can have dinner wherever you want, and fly back.”

Buffy shook herself out of her reverie. “This is so cool,” the Slayer muttered, as she sunk in the leather seats of the car.

“I do my best,” Llewellyn replied. “But remember, I am 1700 years old. I was never young in this age. Be patient with me.”

Buffy laughed, patted his hand affectionately. “Don’t worry, Lew. You’re doing just fine,” she told him, laughing. Llewellyn smiled in response.

 

Llewellyn escorted Buffy to a more modest car, and together, they roared off. Lunch was in a homey little restaurant in the bay area. Buffy felt immediately at home, the food was excellent, and the waitress friendly. What more could she want?

When Llewellyn parked the car on the parking lot of the San Francisco Galleria, her eyes bulged. “This place is so expensive!” Buffy said. Then, she looked at Llewellyn’s grinning face. “You’re taking me shopping here?”

Llewellyn shrugged. “We can go someplace else, if you want,” he offered.

Buffy immediately started shaking her head. “Thought so,” Llewellyn answered, smiling. “Come on, Birthday Girl.”

They ended up not buying much, but Buffy had a great time strolling along the clothing shops. She suspected Llewellyn knew more than he was letting on, but she ignored it. She was having a great time, and wasn’t about to let anyone ruin it.

Finally, it was time for the ice show, and Llewellyn parked the car on a reserved parking space near the entrance.

“One of the benefits of VIP treatment,” Llewellyn told Buffy as he escorted her inside. Instead of following the crowd, Llewellyn showed Buffy to a special side-entrance marked ‘Booth 1’, in golden lettering. A man in impeccable uniform took Llewellyn’s name, and very respectably showed them to the booth.

Buffy looked around, and couldn’t believe her eyes. They called this a booth? It had leather sofas, a refrigerator, and lots of room…it looked like a small suite.

Llewellyn said something to the man, who promptly disappeared. Buffy didn’t notice any of this as she sat down directly in front of the window.

The man returned barely five minutes later, carrying an ice bucket, and two flutes. She stared as the man poured two glasses of champagne.

“Champagne?” Buffy asked. “And they’re not carding me?”

Llewellyn’s smile was genuine. “Buffy, this is the luxury booth. In here, that stupid law doesn’t count. They would pour you scotch if you asked for it.”

Buffy’s face twisted. “I don’t think I could handle scotch,” she said quietly, sipping from her glass of champagne. “But this…this is great!”

“Glad you like it,” her companion remarked. Together, they watched the great ice show, and generally enjoyed themselves.

After the truly wonderful show, Llewellyn kept his promise. He asked where Buffy wanted to eat.

“I’m in the mood for chic,” Buffy replied, sighing. She sunk back in the plush seats of the car.

“Then I know just the place,” Llewellyn answered. Shooting a look at her, he added, “And you look nice enough for the place, too. Come on. We’ll be there shortly.”

After they pulled up to a restaurant, Buffy heard the maître d’ tell a couple that they needed reservations, and that the restaurant was full. And yes, he was very sorry, but there was nothing he could do.

“We need reservations,” Buffy whispered. Llewellyn grinned back, confusing the Slayer.

“Name, please?” the man asked as Llewellyn and Buffy walked up to him. Then, he glanced up, caught look of Llewellyn, and dwindled.

“Monsieur Morgan!” the man exclaimed. “It has been some time! Your usual table, sir?”

Llewellyn smiled, dipped his head, and responded, “That will be fine, Hugo.” Buffy noted the French pronunciation of the name. Instead of calling someone, the maître d’ escorted them to their table himself.

As they sat down in a quiet corner of the restaurant, Buffy took in the place.

“Nice restaurant. Let me guess: friends of yours?” she asked.

“You got it,” Llewellyn replied, just as a nice-looking waitress brought over an ice bucket and two glasses.

“Good evening, Mr. Morgan. Complimentary champagne, courtesy of Mr. Grondell,” she said, handing out the menus as well.

“I’ll have the usual, Sophie,” Llewellyn said.

“What’s the usual?” Buffy asked. Llewellyn pointed to a certain dish in the menu. Buffy almost choked when she saw the prices, before finally glancing up to the man in front of her.

“It’s only lobster,” Llewellyn answered.

“Giant lobster!” Buffy almost choked out.

“And $450 is a very reasonable price. You should try it. It’s truly excellent,” Llewellyn recommended.

“You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding,” Buffy pleaded. Llewellyn’s small grin convinced her. “I’ll have one too,” she told the waitress, who jotted it down.

“Excellent choice, Miss. Would you like to drink anything during your meal, Sir, Miss?”

“We’ll just have the champagne,” Llewellyn said, pointing off-handedly to the ice bucket.

“Very well, Sir, Miss.” The waitress disappeared.

Buffy stared at Llewellyn for a few seconds, a gaze he returned curiously. “You could have warned me this place was so expensive!” she grunted in his direction.

“And miss this opportunity? Buffy, you only have one birthday a year. Enjoy it…I know I do,” Llewellyn answered.

Buffy nodded in resignation. Finally, the food came, and Buffy’s eyes opened like little saucers. The waitress, having seen this, asked on a friendly tone of voice, “Is something wrong, Miss?”

Llewellyn answered for Buffy, “The lady has never seen a giant lobster before. Everything’s just fine, Sophie.”

Sophie nodded, and disappeared. Buffy pointed at the plate, and looked at Llewellyn. “This…this…”

“That’s a giant lobster. What? You didn’t believe a giant lobster would be big?” he asked teasingly. For added effect, Llewellyn started eating. Buffy slowly got over her shock, and joined in as her stomach let her know that the monster in front of her needed a good home.

She gave it one.

 

Dinner passed pleasantly, Buffy’s inhibitions lowering just the tiniest of bits under the influence of the alcohol. The flight back to LA was relaxed. Buffy got in the limo that was waiting for them. By the now, the effects of the alcohol started wearing off, but were not completely gone; Buffy still giggled and laughed more than usual, enabling her to have a great time.

“Here we are,” Llewellyn said as they got out of the car. Shooting a look at his watch, he added, “And it’s only eight thirty. Only thirty minutes late.”

Buffy hugged Llewellyn deeply, and said, “Thank you for a great day, Lew. I really enjoyed myself. Even the lobster part.”

“Glad you liked it, Buffy. I enjoyed doing it,” Llewellyn said, breaking the hug. As the Slayer started for home, Llewellyn asked, “Would you like to come in for a second?”

Shrugging, Buffy replied with a smile, “Sure. Why not?”

“Surprise!!” Buffy nearly got a heart attack.  Everyone was there, in the living room, hiding in the dark. Crevan, Sam, Xander, Willow, Oz, Giles, and even Cordelia. “Happy birthday, Buffy!”

The Slayer’s open mouth and staring eyes said it all. “You guys!” Buffy shouted. Turning to Llewellyn in mock-anger, she said, “You knew all about it, didn’t you?”

“Well…” Llewellyn admitted.

Playfully hitting his abdomen, Buffy muttered affectionately, “You big lug…”

“Come on! Presents!” Willow urged, dragging her friend to a couch to sit down in. Buffy started unpacking gifts from all her friends. Finally, she had worked her way through.

“And here’s a gift from all of us,” Llewellyn said, extending a small velvet box. “Me, Crevan and Sam chipped in. Your friends helped us pick the color.”

Buffy took the box, and carefully opened it. “What is…” the box snapped open. Inside was a set of fake plastic car keys, attached to… “A key chain?” she asked. Then, she noticed a small folded piece of paper stuck in the box under the keys. Unfolding it, she read, “Go to the garage. Happy birthday.”

Buffy looked curiously at everyone. Llewellyn, Crevan, and Oz looked stoic. Willow and Sam looked excited, Xander looked…well, like Xander, and Cordelia looked as confused as she was. Cordelia had obviously not been included in whatever this was.

“Well, I think you should do what the note says, don’t you think?” Llewellyn asked, with just a hint of excitement in his voice. Just that hint creeped Buffy out. All day, through one surprise after another, Llewellyn hadn’t sounded this excited.

Deciding that she’d better do as they wanted her to do, Buffy stood up and went to the garage. She saw the van, Llewellyn’s black Viper, Crevan’s bike, and… a shape underneath a gray veil?

The group gathered around the veiled shape. Buffy hesitantly grabbed hold of it. She pulled. A car, as black as Llewellyn’s Viper, emerged.

Llewellyn dangled a set of real car keys in front of Buffy’s eyes. “Happy birthday, Buffy,” he said once again.

“This…what…Me?” she asked, stuttering. Walking around the car, she noticed the license plates. “BUFFY 1?” she asked.

“Sam’s idea,” Llewellyn admitted, as Buffy’s hands trailed over the brand and model.

“I wanted to name it SLAYER 1, though,” Sam added. “But Dad convinced me it would draw too much unwanted attention.”

“I like it anyway,” Buffy said, smiling at Sam. Then, she added, “A BMW? Convertible?”

“A 325C, hope you like it,” Crevan said. “That was my part.”

Buffy hugged him. “I love it,” she told the 1000-year-old man. Looking at Llewellyn while pointing at her friends, she asked, “And since they picked out the color…what did you do, Lew?”

Llewellyn laughed. “Open it, and I’ll show you,” he replied, walking to the passenger side. Buffy opened the car, and slid in the driver’s seat.

“The car has been enchanted against undead,” Llewellyn began, “But that’s not what I wanted to show you.” He opened a small compartment in the armrest. Two switches became visible.

“Remember the power dome in the hood?” Llewellyn asked. When Buffy stared unknowing at him, Llewellyn explained, “The outward bump?” Buffy nodded in understanding now.

“This first switch, SC, engages a Super Charger, which needed the power dome for space. It will increase speed and performance of the car.”

“Cool! And what does NB stand for?” Buffy asked, looking at the second switch’s tag.

“Nitro Boost,” Llewellyn said with a straight face. “It’s a valve system, so you’ll need to keep pushing in order to keep releasing the nitro. Anyway, what it does is make you take off like a rocket. Engine speed and performance go up. Way up.”

“Cool…” Buffy said, drooling. She let her eyes take in the anthracite leather interior, as well as the wood finish. “A name tag? Of me?” she asked, when her eyes came on a small silver tag in front of the centrally placed automatic transmission.

Cordelia just now got over her shock. “Hey! Wait a minute! You’re telling me that she has a cooler car than I have?! That is so UNFAIR!”

Everyone chose to ignore the brunette.

“So, how about a test drive?” Llewellyn asked. “And see how many people can squeeze into this car at the same time?”

“Sure,” Buffy said, eagerly pulling the driver’s door shut. Llewellyn laughed, shook his head, and gently closed the passenger door. Much to Llewellyn’s surprise, only Sam and Crevan got into the back seat.

“You don’t want to join us?” Llewellyn asked, opening his door to poke his head out.

“U-uh,” Willow grunted.

“No, thanks,” Oz added.

“No way,” Xander said.

“Me? Drive with her? I’m not suicidal,” Cordelia finished.

“Suit yourself,” Llewellyn said, shutting his door. He pushed the button on his remote to key the garage door, and Buffy started the engine. The six-cylinder wheezed into life. The powerful engine ate rubber as it flew backwards off the driveway, barely missing a few trees in the process.

The car turned sharply onto the road, and Buffy stumped it in drive, and roared off.

Sam, on the back seat, commented, “Buffy drives like Dad when he’s pissed off.” As Crevan nodded, she added, “I like her.” Crevan smiled.

In the front seat, Llewellyn was looking out the window, unconcerned.

“You okay?” Buffy asked from behind the wheel.

“Of course I am. You know what this calls for? Road music!” Llewellyn said, pulling a CD from his pocket. It was homemade, and sported a label ‘road music’.

Buffy shrugged. “You’re one of the few who don’t scream,” she commented. Llewellyn put his CD in the CD player. Buffy looked sideways, and shot Llewellyn an angry look when the danger zone started playing, the title song from Top Gun.

“Is that supposed to be subtle?” Buffy asked. Llewellyn shook his head, and shot her a grin.

“Not at all. Pure coincidence. You saw the CD. It’s road music.”

Buffy laughed, finding it ridiculously funny all of a sudden. “In all the excitement, I forgot to ask what protection against evil you meant,” she said after composing herself.

“Well, it’s got the same protection as a private house, meaning no vamp can enter without invitation. For the rest, if you manage to hit a vampire with this thing, it will dust him. The car has been blessed, and if you do enough damage, the vampire will go poof. All my cars have the same protection. I even put it on Cordy’s car.”

Buffy nodded in understanding, listening to the music. “This is a great car, Lew. Thanks. All of you, thanks.”

“No problem, Buffy,” Llewellyn responded.

“Glad you enjoy my taste,” Crevan added, smiling.

“Yeah. And mine,” Sam said.

After getting back to Llewellyn’s house, the elder Immortal told Buffy, “You’re not a bad driver. You drive like me when I’m pissed. Now all we need to do is teach you some control. Don’t worry, you’ll be up to speed in no time.”

“If you say so,” Buffy responded hesitantly as she opened her door. Llewellyn stopped her.

“Some more stuff,” Llewellyn told the Slayer. “Papers are in the glove compartment, of course. The car is fully registered in your name; the plates are registered as well. Now, here’s your gas card.”

“Gas card?” Buffy asked as she held the card in her hand. It looked like an ordinary credit card, only that this one had ‘Shell’ written on it, and that Llewellyn’s name was on it. No number, nothing.

“It enables you to tank for nothing. The bill goes to Shell,” Llewellyn explained.

“How did you manage that?” Buffy asked, her stare going from the card to the Immortal. On the back seat, Crevan and Sam were laughing.

Sam put one finger to her lips, and motioned ‘just watch’ to her uncle. He listened intently, knowing what was to come, and not willing to miss a single part of it.

“I own 10% of Shell,” Llewellyn replied deadpan. Buffy spluttered.

“You really have a vicious sense of humor,“ Crevan laughed to his mentor. “The poor girl looked like she were having a heart attack!”

“You do what?” Buffy asked, nearly shouting.

“I told you, I’m so rich I can’t guesstimate how much money I have. Not by a 100 million dollars.”

“But Shell? Ten percent?” Buffy protested.

“It stems from the time that oil was considered emerging technology,” Llewellyn explained. “That’s how I make all my money… I invest in emerging technologies. Like Bill Gates’ Microsoft. Who would have thought that an investment of a thousand dollars would give me 5% of one of the richest companies in the world? ‘Yahoo!’ was the same thing, just like Intel, Renault, Boeing, etc.”

“You own parts of all those?” Buffy grunted. “You said you were worth a couple hundred million!”

“Yes,” Llewellyn answered. “That’s available. Cash, so to speak. The rest are shares. That money’s tied up. Can’t get to it on short notice. The couple hundred million is readily accessible, in bank accounts. Cash, if you want.”

Buffy started coughing again. “Jesus! You talk about it as if it’s nothing! Did you ever make a wrong bet?”

Llewellyn laughed. “Oh, yeah. Made plenty of those. I bet on the wrong VCR system, namely Video2000 instead of VHS. I lost lots of money in the crash of ’29, as well as on Black Monday in ‘87. Same thing happened to that biogas car. Oh, well, you can’t win them all.”

Buffy’s color, red from coughing, died down as she shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the richest man in the world?”

“I’m not!” Llewellyn protested. Relenting, he added, “Not under my current name anyway…”

Buffy’s color drained from her face. Taking a couple of deep breaths, the Slayer used Sam’s techniques to center herself. “I am friends with the richest man in the world… wait till my friends here about this!”

“Buffy, it’s rather late to start explaining now. Could you wait until tomorrow? That gives me some time to prepare,” Llewellyn asked. Actually, his tone bordered more on ‘begging’, rather than ‘asking’.

“Fine,” Buffy grunted, getting out of the car. The conversation was closed. Once out of the car, Buffy was back to her only slightly alcohol-affected self, and was smiling broadly.

The party broke up at around ten, and Buffy proudly drove her car home. Xavier and Marie had gone to bed as soon as the youngsters had left, while Crevan, Llewellyn and Sam were gathered in the living room, drinking one last cup of relaxing herbal tea before going to bed. The two Immortals were talking amicably about the things they remembered Llewellyn had once invested in.

“Remember that crazy idea? ‘Airplanes will never work!’ Were we ever wrong!” Crevan laughed.

Llewellyn nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Those damn Wright brothers pulled it off, didn’t they?”

“At least you managed the brains to invest in some airplane companies. Too bad Fokker went out of business, but Boeing and Lear are still here,” Crevan said, smiling. “Anyway, we need to get a list together about your holdings… could prove interesting to see the faces of the youngsters when certain things come out.”

Llewellyn laughed in agreement. Sam was just smiling broadly. She always had fun when the two Immortals discussed the past…somehow, it made the events more real than in any history book. That was also why she got her father and uncle together whenever she wanted to discuss something in history.

They managed to make the past come to life, just as they had lived it. More than often, at least one of them witnessed any important events she asked about. And more than usually, both of them had lived it, and had different views on the same event, giving the girl a more wide grasp on what happened.

The three were in bed by eleven, preparing to enjoy a good night’s rest. It was not to last. At eleven thirty, Llewellyn shot out of bed at the sound of screeching tires, banging on the front door, and an incessant ringing of the doorbell.

He shot out of his room, sword being tied as he ran, shoulder holster already thrown on. A Buzz hit him. He didn’t have the time, or the concentration, needed for an ID on the Buzz. Skipping two or three steps at a time, he jerked off the deadbolt, disarmed the alarm system, and threw open the door, sword in one hand. It disappeared just as fast as it had been drawn.

“Buffy,” Llewellyn whispered in near-shock. Buffy was crying. In fact, she looked like she had been crying for some time now. “What’s wrong? Come in, come in!” Llewellyn urged her, shooting a look at the driveway. Buffy’s car was parked sideways on the driveway, all lights on, engine running, and the front door still open. Buffy apparently had jumped from it as soon as she had stopped it.

“It’s…oh, Lew,” Buffy sobbed, throwing herself in his arms. Standing there with a sobbing Buffy clinging to him, Llewellyn did the thing that came most naturally: he hugged her.

Turning at a sound, Llewellyn saw Sam and Crevan coming down the stairs. Llewellyn pointed outside, to Buffy’s car. Crevan nodded in understanding, he would park the car in the garage. Sam approached the two. Buffy was still clinging to Llewellyn.

“What’s wrong, Buffy?” Llewellyn asked as her sobs started dying down. He broke the hug, gently enough to show Buffy that he still cared.

“It’s…it’s Mom,” Buffy sobbed. “She…she told me I…I couldn’t see…couldn’t see you anymore. She told me…to return the car. She…we…fought. And she said …she said ‘as long as you live in my house’, and…and…I left…”

Llewellyn exchanged a helpless look with Sam, who was staring wide-eyed at the Slayer. Sam shrugged when she caught her father’s glance, indicating she had no clue as to what to do.

“Come on, Buffy. I’ll get you some tea, and then you can go to bed. I promise, we’ll take care of things in the morning, ok?”

Buffy nodded, sniffling. She threw herself against Llewellyn. “Thank you, Lew. Thank you…”

“It’s okay, Buffy. We’ll straighten everything out in the morning, okay?” Llewellyn asked, looking at Buffy. She nodded, wiping her eyes. Llewellyn guided the girl into the living room, and sat her down.

“I’ll be right back with the tea, ok?” Llewellyn said to Buffy as he stood up. At she nodded, Llewellyn made his way to the kitchen. Sam stayed, watching over her friend. Llewellyn returned in five minutes with a tray filled with a teapot, three cups, milk, and sugar. He poured her a nice cup of steaming hot tea.

“This will relax you, Buffy. Milk or sugar?” Llewellyn offered, pouring a cup for himself and Sam as well. Buffy took two sugars; Sam and Llewellyn drank their tea straight. Crevan joined them soon, pouring himself a cup of the herbal tea.

Buffy appreciated the comfortable silence; she could feel the not-oppressing atmosphere all around her. No one was pushing, no one was questioning; they were just here to comfort her, to listen if she wanted to talk. More importantly, they were simply being there; providing support for whatever had happened.

As Buffy finished her cup, Sam got up. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room,” the girl said friendly. “I promise, Dad will figure things out, and everything will be alright.”

Buffy nodded, sniffled, and followed the girl out of the living room.

“You had it coming,” Crevan muttered to his teacher. “Her mother’s protectiveness has kicked in. You’re very lucky she didn’t come after her daughter, screaming for blood.”

Llewellyn sighed silently. “I was just being myself. I just like handing out presents. I can’t help it if it makes me look too good to be true.”

“You do know how this is going to end up, don’t you? The kid’s either going to stay, or she’ll go. Either way, her mother is going to tear you to pieces so bad it’ll take forever to heal up,” Crevan warned.

Llewellyn shook his head. “Not if I can help it. I need to calm her mother down, show her I have no intention of harming Buffy, and find some common ground to build a friendly relationship with her.”

Crevan nodded. “And cure all diseases, and solve world hunger while you’re at it. Take it from someone who has dealt with over 20 mothers-in-law: you made the mistake of not going to see the woman the moment you met Buffy. She probably mistrusted you at first; now she probably hates your guts.”

Llewellyn grunted. “Now I know why I never remarried,” he said. The doorbell rang. Continuously. Llewellyn sighed, shot a pleading look at his friend, and said, “Here comes the hungry pack of wolves.”

“Hungry Alaskan timber wolves,” Crevan agreed, quietly making his way to the stairs as Llewellyn opened the door.

“Morgan?” the blonde-haired woman at the door asked. Llewellyn took a deep breath, and plastered a smile on his face.

“Llewellyn Morgan, at your service,” Llewellyn replied smoothly, with a small bow of his head.

Joyce Summers pushed Llewellyn’s chest with her finger. “So you are the one that has been occupying all her time, and now this… car. What are you trying to do?”

“Be her friend?” Llewellyn offered, showing Joyce into the living room. Thankfully, Crevan had had the presence of mind to take the tea set with him. It would have done no good for Joyce to see that Buffy was here. Not in such plain evidence.

“Some friend! What kind of friend takes a seventeen-year-old girl out of town for most of the day? What kind of friend buys that same girl a car like that?” Joyce exploded.

“Tea?” Llewellyn asked, as he got up from the couch. “It’s very relaxing.” And I need time to think. This is NOT good.

“Don’t avoid the question, Mister Morgan!” Joyce shouted.

“Are you sure you don’t want tea, Mrs. Summers?” Llewellyn offered again, as he walked of the kitchen. Now, where did Marie put the set? Llewellyn forced himself to think about tea, and tea only.

Joyce, taken off-guard by Llewellyn’s refusal to defend himself, muttered, “Sure. I’ll have tea.”

Llewellyn rummaged through the kitchen, finally finding what he was looking for. Ah…Ming. How good those people made porcelain! Llewellyn pulled out a tray, sporting six cups, a teapot, a milk jug, and a sugar bowl. Llewellyn made tea the old-fashioned way. It took nearly ten minutes, minutes he used to calm and center himself, and to collect his thoughts on how to handle the situation.

He brought the tray over, and poured tea for Joyce, and for himself. He made sure he poured for her first, and then asked whether she wanted milk or sugar. Only then did he pour for himself. How easy I slip back into the social etiquette, Llewellyn thought. His posture and manners became those had had during the turn of the century, during which he voyaged through Europe’s upper class. They worked like a charm. I got a couple knighthoods and a dukedom out of it, Llewellyn thought silently.

Joyce was staring at the cups. “Is that…”

“Ming Dynasty,” Llewellyn confirmed. “Priceless to me, because it was a gift from a very good friend of mine.”

“You barbarian! You use a priceless piece like this?!”

Damn. An antiques freak. You goofed, Lew! Llewellyn sighed, closed his eyes. “The friend who gave this to me has passed on… by using his gift, I honor his memory and his friendship, Mrs. Summers.”

She was taken aback. “I didn’t know…” She shook her head. Her gaze drifted momentarily over the living room, taking in the antique furniture, and the sparse paintings on the wall. She forced herself back to reality. “That’s NOT why I’m here! Where is Buffy?”

Llewellyn took a deep breath, and looked at Joyce. “What happened, Mrs. Summers? Buffy is a friend of mine, a very good friend, and I don’t like seeing her hurt like this,” he replied calmly.

“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t shown up! You never answered my original question. What kind of friend are you? Are you sleeping with her? What does she have to do to get ‘gifts’ from you?”

For a moment, Joyce saw something she hadn’t expected. Pain. Then, Llewellyn’s face smiled once again, the smile clearly forced now. She grew suspicious immediately.

Llewellyn got up, walked to the window. He looked out over the nighttime backyard. “I had a wife,” Llewellyn began, pain once more on his face. “She was a very good, very generous woman. We both had no greater joy than to make others happy. After…after my wife had to leave, I continued. I use my money to try and make other people happy.”

“You are telling me you do this from the bottom of your heart? Excuse me for not crying,” Joyce said. Her voice lacked conviction, however. “And why did your wife leave you? Because you couldn’t leave young girls alone?”

Llewellyn turned to face her. “My wife died, Mrs. Summers. And no, I am not sleeping with Buffy. She is my student in the martial arts. As well as my student, Buffy has become a very good friend of both myself and my daughter. Is it so wrong for one friend to buy the other a gift?”

Joyce emptied her tea. “No,” she admitted. “It’s not. But, you have to agree, this who situation… it is suspicious. You appear to be between 20 and 25 years old, have lots of money, and are buying my seventeen-year-old daughter expensive gifts, take her to San Francisco to see an ice show I know has been sold out for months, and then treat her to a thousand dollar dinner!”

Llewellyn sat down. His next words were so laced with sadness that Joyce almost flinched.

“I know, Mrs. Summers. The fault is all mine. I should have come to you, and properly introduced myself. Because I didn’t, a person I care about has been greatly hurt. Mrs. Summers, I know you don’t trust me, or even like me, but for Buffy’s sake, I ask of you to tell me what happened, so I might do something to help.”

“So you admit that you care about her?” Joyce asked.

“I care for all my friends, Mrs. Summers,” Llewellyn answered calmly. “Most people I know are mere acquaintances. Buffy, as well as her friends, have accepted me for who I am, rather than for what I am, or some endless pot of gold. I respect and appreciate that fact, and I would do anything within my power to help them,” he finished, his voice showing a sincerity that astonished Joyce.

“And what if I asked you to leave her alone?” Joyce asked coolly. She was thawing for him, she knew it, and she didn’t like it.

“Mrs. Summers, your daughter is a very strong-willed and able young woman. If she asked me to go, I would go, and never return. If you asked me, I would ask you for your reasons first, but I can almost assure you what Buffy’s reaction would be…” Llewellyn trailed off, not knowing how to properly phrase this. The sincerity was clearly audible, though. Joyce was convinced that Llewellyn would leave Buffy alone…but only if she wanted him to leave her alone.

“I can see your point,” Joyce muttered. At this point, Sam came into the living room, and looked at Joyce.

“Sam, meet Buffy’s mother. Mrs. Summers, my daughter Samantha,” Llewellyn introduced. Seeing the look shift in Sam’s eyes from curiosity to anger, Llewellyn held up a hand. He knew his daughter better than she knew herself. The tensed muscles could only indicate one thing: preparing to fight.

“Sam…” he warned. Samantha turned to her father.

“She told Buffy never to see us again,” Samantha said. “She told her only daughter to return her birthday gift, and never to speak to us again. Dad…I…I can assure you, Buffy’s hurt. She was crying. A lot. I finally got her to sleep.”

“Have a seat, Sam,” Llewellyn said, patting the seat next to him. Samantha sat down. “Mrs. Summers brought up some valid points,” he told the girl. Both Samantha and Joyce were shocked.

“I did?” Joyce asked.

“She did,” Sam said, her tone flat and final.

Llewellyn nodded. “I should have gone to Buffy’s house, properly introduced myself, and explained things. As poorly as I handled things now, I was the one at fault in creating these painful misunderstandings. Mrs. Summers thought I was taking advantage of Buffy, or at least using my money to coerce her into something.”

“She overreacted,” Sam muttered, all the wind out of her sails now.

“One day, when you have children of your own, you will understand. I understand, since I have you, and I would probably jump to conclusions as well,” Llewellyn explained.

Sam sighed, looked at Joyce, and muttered, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Summers. I didn’t mean to… It’s just that Buffy’s such a good friend, and losing her…well, I don’t like thinking about it.”

Joyce nodded, her gaze going form one person to another. “You defended me,” Joyce said to Llewellyn. “After all the things I said. After barging in here, screaming. After calling you names.” Joyce was confused; deeply. What game is he playing?  

Llewellyn shook his head. “When you have experienced what I have, you learn to see what is being said, not how it is being said, Mrs. Summers. I have a very thick skin. I don’t offend easily.”

He looked so old when he said that. He must have experienced a lot of things to be like this. “But…I hurt you. I could see it,” Joyce persisted. “I owe you an apology as well.”

“Apology accepted, Mrs. Summers,” Llewellyn answered.

“Please…Joyce,” Joyce said. “You’re a strange man, Mr. Morgan. I didn’t know what to expect, but I certainly didn’t expect to find someone like you… you seem to have done things beyond your years.”

“In that case, please call me Llewellyn, or Lew, Joyce. My friends call me Lew,” Llewellyn said. He had tossed her the opening. Would she take it?

“Lew,” she said. Llewellyn smiled. Sam’s smile was more radiant.

“It’s after midnight, Joyce. I have a spare bedroom, if you want it,” Llewellyn offered. “It’s too late to wake Buffy anyway. She needs her sleep.”

“I don’t know… I didn’t bring anything. I don’t want to intrude…”

Llewellyn laughed heartily, joined in by Sam. “Joyce,” Llewellyn said, now only mildly uncomfortable with the first name. “I am used to people barging in here. Believe me, you’re no intrusion. Sam will find you something to wear, if you want it.”

Sam shot up. “Don’t worry, Buffy will be just down the hall from you,” the girl assured Joyce. Flabbergasted at the change of events, Joyce let Sam lead her out of the living room. The door closed, and Llewellyn sunk in a heap. Breathing deeply and rhythmically, Llewellyn calmed his nerves.

“Damn. I felt like I was staring down an entire army of them,” he muttered quietly. Note to self: stay on her good side. Llewellyn grinned, and nodded at the thought. Definitely, his mind added. He smiled. He finished the rest of the tea, and went back to bed.

 

The next morning, when Llewellyn got down for breakfast, he found Crevan the only one awake.

“By the way, world peace and the cure to all diseases will be my next trick,” Llewellyn told his student.

“Say what?” Crevan asked, eyes wide. Llewellyn smirked. “You really did it, didn’t you? You actually calmed down her mother!”

Llewellyn nodded. “Joyce Summers is a good and reasonable woman, Crevan. I think everything is more or less straightened out. Thanks for taking the tea tray with you, by the way. I don’t think it would have done much good if she had seen it.”

“No problem,” Crevan replied.

“Good morning,” Kendra said as she entered the room.

“Morning, Kendra,” Llewellyn told the darker-skinned Slayer.

“Morning,” Crevan said.

“Was there trouble yesterday night?” Kendra asked as she sat down. “I heard Buffy, and then I heard her mother shouting. Is everything alright?”

“It’s all been straightened out, Kendra,” Llewellyn replied.

“Good to know. Xavier told me to go back to bed and let you handle it. There did not seem to be any battle involved, so I complied,” the Slayer explained.

Next one to walk in was Sam, who wished everyone a good morning, and fell down in a chair. When Xavier appeared, carrying a tray with Llewellyn’s breakfast, Sam asked for her usual bowl of cereal and glass of orange juice. Kendra asked for eggs and bacon, something she had taken to since living with Llewellyn.

Xavier smiled, and disappeared once more. Buffy shyly opened the door, and stepped inside, looking anxiously at the people present.

“Buffy!” Llewellyn greeted. “I thought you might want to sleep in,” he said.

“Morning, Buffy,” Sam greeted the blonde.

“Grab a seat,” Crevan said, making an off-hand motion to all the empty space at the table. Buffy slid on a seat next to Sam, who beamed a smile at the Slayer.

“You are alright?” Kendra asked coolly. Buffy didn’t know what to respond, so she stared at the tabletop.

“Buffy, I have some good news,” Llewellyn said, deciding that there was no time like the past. And the sooner he started, the sooner it would be there. “I talked with your mother last night.”

Buffy nodded, her face sad. “I know. I could hear her upstairs. God, Lew… the things she said…shouted…”

Llewellyn held up his hand, cutting her off. “Buffy, we talked things out.”

Buffy’s head snapped in Llewellyn’s direction. “What?”

Llewellyn smiled. “We talked things out. I am not sure where I am with your mother right now, but at least I’m no longer the cradle-robbing bastard she no doubt thought I was,” Llewellyn said, laughing.

Buffy smiled through her tears. “Really? She’s not going to throw me out?”

Llewellyn smiled gently. “No, Buffy, she won’t. I’m just glad I was able to convince her… after all, this mess is my fault.”

“Lew! How could you say that?!” Buffy shouted. “You made my birthday special, a day to remember. You did nothing wrong!”

Llewellyn shook his head, smile disappearing a little. “I should have come to your house, Buffy. I should have talked with your mother. I should have…”

“Lew,” Buffy grunted. “Don’t.”

When Xavier came in with Sam’s and Kendra’s breakfast, he smiled broadly at seeing Buffy.

“Mademoiselle Buffy,” Xavier said when he saw her. “Good morning.” Buffy smiled at the man. She thought back of the first time he had addressed her… Mademoiselle Elisabeth. No one had the guts to call her that. He did. Buffy had told him to call her Buffy, and he had ever since, but she would never forget that first time.

“Morning, Xavier,” she greeted back, trying to get the French pronunciation right. It had taken her a couple hundred tries under Llewellyn’s careful supervision. In the end, she managed it without much of an accent.

“I am glad to see you are alright, mademoiselle,” Xavier said. No matter how many times she had told him, the man simply refused to let go of the titles. Finally, she had given up, just like Lew and Sam had, a long time ago.

Buffy smiled bravely. “Lew talked it out,” she said.

“Monsieur is a very accomplished diplomat,” Xavier agreed. Buffy smiled as she saw Llewellyn roll his eyes. “Can I bring you anything, mademoiselle?”

“What do you have, Xavier?” Buffy asked. “And what wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

Xavier smiled. “Nothing is too much trouble, mademoiselle Buffy.”

Buffy shot a look at Llewellyn, who shrugged, and nodded. “Ask for anything you like, Buffy. I can assure you, nothing’s too much trouble for Marie.”

Looking around the table, Buffy noticed the various dishes, including Kendra’s eggs, bacon, and toast. “Cereal and a glass of orange juice will be fine, thanks,” Buffy told Xavier, shooting a look at Sam. She really didn’t want to be too much trouble. Xavier dipped his head, and disappeared.

Conversation at the table resumed, until Xavier returned, and put the cereal down in front of the blonde Slayer.

“Here you go, mademoiselle,” Xavier said.

“Thanks, Xavier,” Buffy replied. Xavier smiled at the sight of her eating, and walked out.

“You’re sure you’re okay now?” Sam asked.

Buffy nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she replied, continuing to shovel cereal.

“You know you can tell us if something’s wrong,” Crevan offered.

Buffy stopped eating, put down her spoon, and stuck her hands in her sides. “You’re worse than my mother!” Buffy said.

“Is that a way to talk about your mother, young lady?” Joyce’s voice rang from behind Buffy, who cringed. When the Slayer turned, she saw her mother was only teasing.

“Mom?” Buffy whispered. Llewellyn motioned to Joyce for the chair next to Buffy, nodded, and smiled.

“Yes, Honey?” Joyce asked, sitting down.

“Oh, Mom,” Buffy cried as she hugged her mother. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” Buffy cried, hugging the woman tightly.

“So am I, Honey. I shouldn’t have said…what I said. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I was just scared for you,” Joyce muttered, stroking Buffy’s hair. She looked up, towards Llewellyn. He smiled. “Now I know there’s nothing to be scared of,” Joyce added.

Buffy nodded in her mother’s arms.

Finally, the two broke apart, and Joyce looked around the table. She recognized Sam from yesterday evening – or was it early this morning – but she didn’t recognize the others. Llewellyn took the clue.

“Joyce, this is Crevan, my first student. This is Kendra, who is my fourth student. And you already know Sam, my daughter, who is also my second student,” Llewellyn introduced.

To Buffy, Joyce remarked, “So that leaves you as number three.” As Buffy nodded, her mother turned back to Llewellyn. “Is it normal for your students to…” Joyce’s question broke off.

“Live with me? For the moment, yes. Crevan’s passing through, even though I don’t know, or care, how long ‘passing’ is for him,” Llewellyn joked, throwing a smirk towards his student. “And Kendra is staying here until she completes her studies.”

“And how long is that?” Joyce asked, interested.

“Kendra’s an exceptional student,” Llewellyn answered. “She’s made a lot of progress. I think she’ll be ready within six months. Of course, the choice will be up to her whether she leaves, or not. My house is always open to my students, as Buffy witnessed yesterday.”

Joyce shook her head. “I really don’t get you, Lew. Why are you doing this? You seem young, but at the same time, you speak like you’ve had a lot of experience. And then there’s your first student, who’s older than you are.”

Oops! Llewellyn thought. Crevan winced. So did most people at the table.

“What is going on here?” Joyce asked. “Now I know something is wrong.” Her voice suspicious, her posture reflected it. She hugged Buffy tighter, subconsciously thinking her in trouble.

Llewellyn sighed, rubbed his forehead, trying to collect his thoughts. “Alright, Joyce. This will be a long story, and difficult to accept. But believe me, I can prove every part of it.”

Joyce raised an eyebrow. “Alright, Llewellyn. Try me.”

Llewellyn, Llewellyn thought. No Lew. No more friends, now that I’m holding secrets. <Sigh> I can’t blame you, Joyce.

“You have without a doubt noticed that there are strange things going on in Sunnydale, Joyce.” At her nod, he continued, “that is because this town is built on something called ‘the Mouth of Hell’, commonly called ‘Hellmouth’ for short.”

“You’re insane,” Joyce said. “And I am not leaving my daughter here one second longer. Come on, Buffy.” Joyce got up, trying to pull her daughter with her. To Joyce’s surprise, Buffy didn’t move an inch.

“He’s right, Mom. He’s telling you the truth,” Buffy said, looking pleadingly at her mother. “Please, let him explain.”

Joyce looked angrily at Llewellyn. “You already brainwashed her! You animal!”

“NO!” Buffy shouted. “He is not an animal, and he is not insane! And I know this! Let him explain!” She took a couple of breaths, and said on a calmer tone, “Please, Mom. Trust me. We can prove all of his story. Please?”

“Alright,” Joyce reluctantly agreed, sitting down again. “Do your best, Morgan.”

Back to square one, Llewellyn thought. “Very well, Joyce,” Llewellyn said. Keep friendly and personal. “There is a weakening in the dimensional barriers here, making Hell more readily accessible. Now, this weakening attracts all kinds of things. Things like demons and vampires.”

“Hah! You expect me to believe that?” Joyce taunted.

“Most people don’t believe it for a very good reason, Joyce. Because they’re scared, the stories are ignored. Think about it. The murder rate in Sunnydale is 15 times that of Washington DC. Think of all the mysterious murders you read about in the papers. Puncture marks on the neck, drained of blood. What does that tell you?”

Joyce gulped, shook her head helplessly. “No,” she whimpered. “No.”

“Some of us have chosen to fight the evil, Joyce. People like me, and Crevan. We have chosen to fight the evil that threatens to destroy humanity.”

“And what does all of this have to do with Buffy? And you, what do you have to do with this?” Joyce asked Kendra.

“I am here to improve, and learn,” Kendra replied. Her tone of voice and body posture indicated she definitely did not like this. She had been brought up believing in the secrecy of the Slayer.

“The threat of vampires is a lot greater than any other kind of demon, Joyce. Because of that, a mystical warrior is called, one for every generation. If one dies, another is called. That is how it works,” Llewellyn went on. “Buffy and Kendra are those warriors.”

“You said only one, Morgan! You’re contradicting yourself!” Joyce victoriously crowed.

“I was not, Joyce. Think about what I said,” Llewellyn replied, still friendly.

“If one dies, another is…” Joyce broke off. “Which of you died?”

“I did, mom,” Buffy answered with a small voice. “I died. Xander brought me back… or we thought he did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joyce exclaimed.

Llewellyn sighed. “There are other creatures out there, Joyce. Creatures other than demon or vampire.”

“What? Elves?” Joyce asked sarcastically.

Yes, but that’s not the point, Llewellyn thought silently. “People like me, Crevan, and Buffy,” Llewellyn said, calmly taking the knife Kendra had used to cut her eggs and bacon. He wiped it, and handed it to Joyce. “Please make sure it’s real.”

Joyce looked strangely at the man, but decided to humor him. “It’s real,” Joyce grunted. She handed it back to Llewellyn.

“We are Immortals, Joyce. We can not die,” Llewellyn said, put his hand flat on the table, and drove the knife through it. He withdrew the bloody knife, his face twisting in pain. Joyce could see the cut in the table, as well as the hole in Llewellyn’s hand. She felt sick. Her breath stopped when she saw the wound close. Not a trace was left within minutes.

“How…what happened?” she asked weakly.

“We can’t die, Joyce,” Crevan said, calmly. “We are normal, age, get sick, and die. Only after we die do we become Immortal. That’s how Buffy became Immortal. She died, and thought Xander got her back through CPR. In fact, it was her Immortality that triggered. Then is when we stop aging.”

“You can’t die? Ever?” Joyce muttered, looking at her daughter.

“Only when we’re beheaded, Mom,” Buffy whispered. Joyce made a very sour face at that revelation.

“How old are you, Lew?” Joyce asked, voice weak. “If you don’t age…”

Llewellyn nodded. “I am one thousand, seven-hundred, twenty-five years old. I died when I was twenty, and that is how I will look forever.”

“I am one thousand and nine,” Crevan said.

“And you?” Joyce asked Sam.

The girl smiled sweetly. “Ten,” she replied. “I will be Immortal one day, though.”

“We can sense each other. Some of us can sense Pre-Immortals, those people that will be immortal once they die,” Llewellyn explained. “Sam is one of them.”

The talk went on for a long time, Joyce having a hard time digesting it all. Llewellyn, Crevan, Buffy, and Kendra did their best to explain things to the shocked woman. It took hours.

 

That afternoon, after Joyce had gone home to get some much needed booze and sleep, the entire Scooby Gang amassed at Llewellyn’s house, asked there by a still rather emotional Slayer.

After Buffy explained what happened to her friends, they all winced in sympathy, and offered their support.

“Lew managed to talk things out with my Mom,” Buffy said, to which Llewellyn nodded.

“I managed to calm her down yesterday evening,” Llewellyn said. “But this morning, the secrets were out, of course. So we needed to calm her down this morning,” Llewellyn finished, pointing to his housemates, as well as Buffy.

“That’s not why I asked for this, guys,” Buffy interjected. Shooting an amused smile at Llewellyn, she said, “Yesterday, I found something else out about our good friend Lew. It looks like he’s been keeping secrets from us.”

Oz, Willow, Xander, Cordelia, and Giles sat up straight at the exact some moment, and looked at Lew, looking at the man in disbelief.

“It looks like he’s the richest man in the world, and forgot to mention it to us,” Buffy said, still smiling at the man, and laughing inwardly at the shocked looks on the faces of her friends.

“You’re…what?” Xander asked.

Llewellyn shrugged. “Most of my money is tied up in stocks. Since Buffy was planning this all along, I made a list yesterday evening. With all the commotion, I didn’t manage to finish it, but it does explain a few things.”

“Excuse me but…uhm…  just how much do you have?” Giles asked the Immortal.

“Well, as I said, I have a couple hundred million dollars in accounts. That money’s more or less cash, readily accessible. I couldn’t guesstimate within a hundred million how much I have in stocks, bonds, and various investments… that’s where the list came in. I can find out, if you really want, though.”

Everyone stared in shock at the man. “How… excuse me for asking, but…how did you manage this?” Giles asked.

Llewellyn shrugged, and smiled. “Well, when you’re alive as long as I have been, and you have some business sense, it’s rather easy. You see, you invest in ‘emerging technologies’, and see what happens. After all, you’re immortal, and you can wait. So, I invested money in things like oil, various car manufacturers, airplane builders, shipyards, construction companies, and, of course, computer technologies, both hard- and software.”

“You…you’re the silent investor in Microsoft, aren’t you?” Willow asked, and looked down shyly as everyone looked at her. Prompted by the looks, Willow stuttered as she continued, “Since it started, everyone has been talking about a mysterious person who owns 20% of Microsoft. But…but…he never buts in, and never comes to stock meetings, and such.”

Llewellyn smiled, and nodded. “That’s me, as well as the one in IBM, AMD, Intel, HP, Compaq, Asus, and various others.”

“You invest in competing companies?” Xander asked.

“I call it spreading the risk. Either one makes it, the other makes it, or they both make it,” Llewellyn said. “That’s how I stayed in the airplane business. I have shares in Lear, Boeing, and McDonnell-Douglas. I used to have shares of Fokker, but they went out of business. Thanks to spreading, I still am in the airplane business.

Of course, I also do a lot of good things with my money. For instance, I have established a worldwide chain of first-class orphanages, soup-kitchens, shelters, and so on. That’s how I met Sam. She was in an orphanage in New York, and I found her while visiting there. Don’t look at me like that! I always try to look for myself how things are going!”

“So, you’re worth like a couple hundred billion or something?” Cordelia asked, almost drooling.

Llewellyn rubbed his chin. “Something like that. As I said, I’d have to make a couple of hours worth of phone calls, and do a couple more hours of adding to find out the correct number.”

“I would have thought you’d have kept track,” Crevan said suddenly. “You always were such a precise bastard.”

“I lost track because I lived in the Soviet Union from 81 to 87. Communism has a way of making you lose track of money,” Llewellyn defended himself. “Of course, you wouldn’t know. You always preferred Capitalism.”

“You lived in Russia?” Xander asked, ignoring Crevan’s smiling face.

“In the Cold War?” Willow asked, shocked.

“I wanted to get on board Mir, so I lived in Russia for six years, got onto Mir, and got back to the States. When I got back, I was very busy… I enrolled in some very major study-projects, and then, of course, I adopted my daughter… and somehow, I never got around to it.”

The group talked for hours, Llewellyn entertaining everyone on tales from his past. Crevan interjected his own view every now and then, giving the captive audience a more broad perspective. Even though most of the teenagers had a less than great interest in history, the amusing anecdotes Llewellyn and Crevan told kept their attentions focused.

 

The group had settled into a nice routine by now. Every evening they stopped by Llewellyn’s house to discuss the next Slay-round, or just to discuss various things. Everyone agreed that Sunnydale was unusually quiet, but no one complained. With Llewellyn teaching two Slayers, Sunnydale had more coverage then it had ever had before.

Next Wednesday evening, the group had gathered together in Llewellyn’s living room.

“Just another patrol again,” Buffy said as she and Kendra got up, and started to prepare to go for their rounds.

“It is never ‘just patrol’,” Kendra lectured Buffy, yet the smile on the Jamaican’s face indicated that she was as much trying to get Buffy’s goat as she was lecturing the blonde.

“Just an expression, Kendra!” Buffy said, her raised tone belying the smile on her face.

“Anyway, you need to get going if you’re going to finish your rounds,” Llewellyn said. The phone rang.

Llewellyn went for it, but Xavier apparently beat him to it, since the ringing stopped. It wasn’t long before the man entered the room.

“Monsieur Servaes on the phone, Monsieur.”

Llewellyn’s face got a strange look on it, and he dove for the phone. “Thanks, Xavier,” he said as he picked up the horn.

“Llewellyn. Bert, what’s wrong? Why are you calling me at,” Llewellyn threw a look at his watch, “three in the morning?”

“Different time-zone,” Crevan explained to the shocked-looking people in the room. Everyone ah-ed.

Llewellyn nodded, and started scribbling on a piece of paper lying next to the phone. “Thanks, Bert. I appreciate it. No, we’ll be fine. I might need to call Esmeralda, and we might need you on a vid-link, but there’s no need to come over here. Yeah, I appreciate it, Bert. We’ll keep that in mind. If need be, my jet will pick you up at Zaventem. No problem. Thanks, Bert. Good night, Bert. You did your part, now let me do mine. Yeah, we’ll do fine. See you later, ok? ‘Night, Bert.” Llewellyn hung up, and sunk in his chair, staring at the piece of paper.

“Okay, how bad is it?” Crevan asked.

“Catastrophic. It’s a Mayan prophecy.”

Crevan cursed. “Those guys wrote some of the bloodiest and most final prophecies I ever came across.”

“This one’s worse,” Llewellyn said. “It was translated into Dutch by a Jesuit Monk, back in the 16^th century. The original Mayan text is lost. Here, listen to this.”

With those words, Llewellyn started reading a Dutch prophecy, leaving everyone there in the dark, since Llewellyn and Crevan were obviously the only ones to be able to understand the language. Even Samantha looked as confused as everybody else.

 

Als de Doders twee

zijn op de Hellemond, een,

zal de wereld schudden,

want Zij herrijzen.

 

Als twee die nooit sterven

Komen naar het zonnig dal

Zal de wereld schudden,

Want Zij zullen rijden.

 

Op Bak’tun 12 zullen de rijders vieren,

Op K’atun 19, zal de Dood herrijzen,

Op Tun 4, zal de Oorlog rijden,

Op Winal 15, zal Honger welig tieren,

Op K’in 12, zal De Pest wortel schieten!

Drie en Tien zijn van belang; ook van eb en ‘wan.

De Nacht zal hebben een zesde Heer,

Hij zal kijken neer als de klok slaat middernacht.

 

Dat wat was gewonnen wordt nu geronnen,

Als hij die had een heeft-niet is geworden,

De krachten van goed weten waar te zijn,

Met de help van de heksen, drie.

 

Alleen vechten als een heeft kans op slagen,

Maar twijfel zal onrust zaaien in hun ranken,

Als zij die nooit sterven zullen zij de plaats verlaten…

 

 

“Only we don’t know what it means,” Llewellyn finished. “It talks about two killers, the Hellmouth, and something called a Sunny Valley. The third verse is a Mayan calendar indication, and we’ll need to find out what it indicates. The second verse talks about two who never die, possibly meaning me and Crevan, but it could also mean two high-class vampires. The fourth verse talks about someone who gained something, but will lose it in the course of this prophecy, and it talks about three witches guiding the forces of good. And the fifth verse is as ambiguous as it can be… it talks about fighting together, which will sow doubt and commotion in our ranks. It also says something about leaving the place as those who never die, which can mean any number of things.”

“Those who never die…” Giles muttered. “It could mean that we can void the larger evil, but would get turned into vampires…”

“Don’t draw any conclusions now. We’ll need to find out what it means, perfectly. No panicking unless we find out what it means, perfectly. Buffy, Kendra, you two go on patrol. We need to keep Sunnydale covered. Everybody else, we’re going to do research. Obviously, we can’t do much today, but starting tomorrow, we’ll do whatever we can, ok?” Llewellyn said.

“Oh! And school?” Willow asked.

“I’ll write a note, don’t worry,” Llewellyn said. Making up his mind, he added, “On second thought, I’ll go talk to the principal myself, and get you all off. Don’t worry, everything will be taken care of.”

“Principal Snyder’s not exactly the most reasonable man, Llewellyn,” Giles said. “Maybe I should accompany you.”

Llewellyn smiled at the librarian. “Thanks for the offer, Giles. I might even take you upon it. It would give my appearance more credibility. Don’t worry, I will convince this Snyder.”

“Of course you’ll convince Snyder,” Crevan laughed. “You could sell freezers on the North Pole.”

Llewellyn smiled. “We’ll see how things go tomorrow,” he decided. “Right now, we need to get ready, so we can get everything started.”

“Right,” Buffy said with a dip of her head. She started running for the door, dragging a startled Kendra with her. When the Jamaican finally regained her footing, they were well down Llewellyn’s driveway.

“What got into her?” Crevan asked. “You’d think the devil himself was after her.”

Llewellyn shrugged. “She’s possibly just excited that something’s finally happening. Now, let’s all get down to the basement, and start our work, shall we?”

“Why? What’s in the basement?” Xander asked, looking confused, like the rest.

“My equipment. Stuff so top secret only a couple dozen people on the planet know about it,” Llewellyn replied. Turning to his guests, he said, “You can not let anyone know about this equipment. It’s too dangerous.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell us before? Because you didn’t trust us?” Cordelia burst in, sounding piqued.

Llewellyn shook his head. “It was never needed, Cordelia. Right now, it’s needed, and I tell you.”

When Cordelia wanted to argue further, Giles calmed her down. “Llewellyn is correct, Cordelia. There was no need for us to know about … whatever it is he is going to show us. I am sure he has good reasons to want to keep this a secret.”

“Right, Giles. You’ll understand as soon as you see.” Llewellyn showed them down into the basement, and guided the group to the far end of the training room.

Llewellyn removed a stone from the wall, startling everyone. No one had seen any indication to the stone being removable. Behind the stone, a keypad became visible. After Llewellyn tapped in a ten-digit code, the wall seemed to grind like stone grinding on stone. Then it slid open sideways, two doors pulling away from each other.

“It’s also a fingerprint scanner, so just reproducing the code isn’t enough,” Llewellyn told the stunned group. They were even more stunned when the lights in the secret compartment switched on. Screens lit up, and fans started whirring. The hum of the a/c became audible, and the temperature dropped a few degrees.

“This is the only existing system built on a full-scale quantum processor. Processing speed is about 65 TIPS, it has a total of 1080 gigs of static-RAM as storage. The memory is made up out of 5 gigs of 2.5 GHz Intel Rambus memory, connected through fiber-optic cable to a 1GHz front side bus, directly to the processor. Transfer speed is about 20 gigabits a second. It’s running on a 512-bit system bus, and it needs a special operating system by Quantum Innovations, one of the few companies I actually own completely. Internet is accessed through a dedicated satellite hanging over LA, speed is as fast as the ‘Net can go. And before you ask, yes, that satellite is completely mine.”

Everyone looked at Willow, she being the only one to be able to make sense of Llewellyn’s ramblings. The stunned looked on her face convinced them that this was not an ordinary computer system. Her face turned red, and Willow started gasping for breath. Llewellyn, very concerned, asked, “Willow? Are you alright? Listen, I didn’t know you were going to be surprised like this. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Quantum processor?” Willow finally got out. “Two-point-five gigahertz ultra-fast Rambus memory?”

Llewellyn nodded. “I’m testing the equipment for the second generation after the one that’s available today. Most of this stuff is a secret for one simple thing: its power is able to blow away anything in existence, and that includes NORAD and consorts.”

“A full quantum processor running 65 TIPS coupled to a 2.5 GHz Rambus…” Willow whispered. “A 1080 gig static RAM drive… tha… that thing shouldn’t exist! It can break a 2048-encryption in like 5 hours! Using a brute force attack!”

“Excuse us who don’t speak computer, Willow,” Cordelia said. “What does all that mean?”

Willow looked at her friend, and replied, “A normal processor runs something in between five hundred and a thousand MIPS, that is, Million Instructions Per Second. This thing runs 65 TIPS, Trillion Instructions Per Second!” When Cordelia still looked flabbergasted at Willow, the redheaded witch sighed, trying to put it in easier terms. “This thing can get into anything without breaking a sweat,” Willow said. “It can break any encryption in hours, instead of years. It can literally break the codes for anything you can think of.”

“Anyone wanna steal a nuke?” Xander quipped, thinking to have finally caught Willow on a non-truth.

Willow looked at her long-since friend. “Exactly, Xander,” Willow replied. “This thing can break NORAD’s security. As such, it can break the nuclear codes.”

Giles, astonished, turned to Llewellyn. “Now we know why you kept this a secret, Lew,” he said. “Accept my apologies for doubting you.”

“No problem, Giles. I’m just glad we have everything sorted out,” Llewellyn replied, smiling. He sat down, and said, “Computer, date search. Convert Mayan calendar to Gregorian. 12 Bak’tun, 19 K’atun, 4 Tun, 15 Winal, 12 K’in, 3 eb, 10 muwan. Additional Cycle: Lord of the Night G6.”

Willow’s eyes went big as the computer’s screen flashed a program into visibility, and a date appeared. Search complete. Correlation to January 23^rd of the year 1998.

“Voice recognition? This…this thing understands you?” Willow gasped. “And it responds verbally?”

“The 23^rd January 1998,” Llewellyn grunted, nodding at Willow’s question absentmindedly. “That’s next Saturday!”

“Not good,” Crevan grunted. “That’s three days!”

“Well, it is more time than we usually have,” Giles admitted. “We once found a prophecy that was to enact that very evening…”

Llewellyn looked at the man, and very seriously said, “You and your group just went up a few notches in my regard, Giles. Finding a prophecy, finding it come true that very evening, and not only surviving but avoiding it…”

“Yes, but this one is about something more grave than what we faced then,” Giles said, closely studying the screen, and the Mayan hieroglyphs the program depicted as correlating with the date.

“Here,” Llewellyn said, getting up. “I’m sure you’ll take good care of this baby,” he told Willow, holding the leather chair out for her. Willow literally beamed at the Immortal as she reverently sat down.

Her fingers started rattling on the keyboard, then halted abruptly. “Voice interface,” she whispered. “Uhm…Computer? Uhm…where is the Internet?” a list appeared, the computer obviously searching for the request.

Please restate request, the computer responded.

“Oh, uh…computer, access the Internet,” the redhead said.

The Yahoo website filled the screen, and Willow’s eyes bulged at the speed of the connection as she filled in her usual sites, trying to find something on the prophecy. Since they didn’t have much to go on, there would be little she got for results.

“Come on,” Llewellyn said quietly to the group, letting Willow enjoy herself with the computer setup. “We’ll hit the books in the upstairs library, and see what we can come up with. I’ll contact Esmeralda after Buffy and Kendra get back. I think she’ll want to meet the entire group.”

“Excuse me, but who is this Esmeralda?” Giles wanted to know.

“Esmeralda is a 250-year-old Immortal Sorceress,” Llewellyn explains. “She appears to be around Buffy’s age, likes to dress like teenagers, but is one of the most powerful magic-users on the planet. She helps out every now and then.”

“I see. And why gather the entire group when you contact her?” Giles asked.

“Because, if I know Esmeralda, she’ll be here faster then if Tiamat Herself was on her heels.”

“Five-headed dragon Tiamat?” Xander asked. “That Tiamat?”

Llewellyn smiled and shook his head. “No. That one is the granddaughter of the Tiamat I’m talking about. I’m talking about the Chaos Dragon, the Serpent of the Deep Abyss.”

Giles’ mouth opened, and he stuttered a few incoherent sounds. “How…I am afraid to ask, how do you know about the Ancients?”

“Ancients?” Willow squeaked. “As in the Ancient Ones who walked the Earth before Man?”

“Exactly. Those are the Ancients I am talking about,” Giles confirmed.

Llewellyn rubbed his eyes. “Not a pleasant memory, that. You see, I went insane at certain points in my life, mostly due to my self-induced life-style of training and study. Now, that’s all fascinating, but the point is this: I started learning about ancient magics. Then, the magics consumed me, twisted my mind… and that’s when I wrote my first book. The Book of the Dead.”

Giles and Willow sputtered at the same time, seeming to choke on something. “The Necronomicon?” Willow screamed.

“Yes, the Necronomicon,” Llewellyn said. “Luckily, I had the strength of mind not to let that thing get lose in the world. At least, not in its entirety. I removed the most dangerous pages.”

“Yes! Yes!” Willow said, excited. “There are pages missing in the version we all know today!”

Llewellyn nodded. “I ripped them from the book. Way too dangerous for normal people. I have the full version in the Vaults in Paris, stored against normal eyes.”

“Llewellyn, I think we will need to sit down and talk,” Giles whispered. “I must admit that I am curious as to what else you have in there.”

“Since we will probably be going there tomorrow, I see no harm in telling you. I have a complete library of every grimoire ever written. Most of them are originals, the others are direct first-hand copies of originals.” Llewellyn sighed at this point. “I also have the two completely unknown books that make up a trilogy that was never named.”

Giles blinked. “Two books of a trilogy?” he asked, basically prompting Llewellyn to go on.

“The Vitanomicon and the Sanguisnomicon.”

“The Book of Life and the Book of Blood?” Giles translated in a very low, guttural voice. Everyone stared in shock at the Immortal. Llewellyn nodded. “I needed to balance the Necronomicon’s darkness, so I wrote the Vitanomicon, the Book of Life. In the 12^th century, I relapsed into insanity due to a Quickening from a very vicious Immortal. That’s when I wrote the third, and final, book, the Sanguisnomicon, the Book of Blood.”

“Ewwww!!” Cordelia exclaimed.

“I must admit, I can hardly wait to explore that library of yours,” Giles said, shaking his head.

“Well, I can send you there after Esmeralda gets here. All you need to do is get back over here so you can help me convince Snyder.”

“Send me there?” Giles asked. “How?”

“Magic transport,” Llewellyn replied. “With Esmeralda here, we’ll have all the instantaneous transport we can ever want.”

“Let’s go hit the books,” Crevan said. “Or we’ll be in here forever.” Turning to the group, he said with a smile, “One thing I’ve learned from hanging out with Lew: you don’t ask him about his past when you’re short on time. Talks about his past can go on for hours.”

Llewellyn smiled, and nodded. “So do talks about yours, Crev. But you’re right. There is no time like the present. Willow, are you sure you’ll be okay in here?”

“I’ll be fine, Lew,” Willow replied. “I know where to find you if something happens,” she added as the group started to leave. She too, felt excited. Tomorrow, she would get to go to the Vaults! She would see the original works… as well as works no one knows existed!

The group gathered in Llewellyn’s library when Buffy and Kendra returned, looking as if something strange had just happened.

Llewellyn could read his students like an open book, and asked, “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“There is something strange happening in town,” Kendra started. “The vampires’ activities have diminished greatly. Willy confirmed that a lot of vampires and demons are leaving town.”

“I think it’s big,” Buffy finished. “Who or whatever it is, it’s scaring every vampire and demon in town. And considering what town this is…”

Llewellyn nodded. “Now that you’re here, I’ll contact Esmeralda, so we can get started. Crevan, could you go get Willow? That is, if you can get her away from that computer.”

Crevan smiled a little sourly, but left. The group walked outside, following Llewellyn’s lead. He brought them to the small temple Buffy had seen some time before.

It wasn’t long before Crevan and Willow joined the group.

“Good. Everyone’s here,” Llewellyn said. “Ready?” he asked. Everybody nodded, and Llewellyn closed his eyes. He raised his arms in front of him, extending them as far as he could. His palms were spread, and orange-yellow energy gathered around them, settling into a sphere in front of his outstretched hands.

“Okay,” Llewellyn grunted. The sphere vanished, and Llewellyn opened his eyes. He wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Now all we have to do is wait.”

“Wait? For what?” Cordelia asked.

“For Esmeralda,” Llewellyn replied calmly.

“And just how long do we have to wait?” Cordelia asked once more. Llewellyn did not like her nagging. Lucky for her, he had 1700 years of experience dealing with dark thoughts.

“Half an hour, tops,” Llewellyn replied calmly. Cordelia wanted to start again, but she was effectively silenced by Giles and Xander.

It didn’t take half an hour. It took fifteen minutes.

A large hole seemed to appear in mid-air, growing larger. The hole deposited a bike, plus biker. The bike was pitch-black. The biker was dressed in a bright red motorcycle outfit, a red helmet finishing the ensemble.

The biker kicked out the stand, and got off. Long black hair became visible, hanging out of the back of the helmet. It became obvious that the biker was a woman. She snapped her fingers, and the outfit was replaced by a long, black, evening gown, complete with jewelry.

“Ew!” the biker exclaimed. “How did that get in here?” She snapped her fingers again. The outfit was replaced by a red leather miniskirt, a red T-shirt, and red shoes. Her face was adorned with a pair of black sunglasses with red lenses, currently located on her forehead. The woman herself appeared to be around 17 or 18, and was… stunning was the correct word. Her black hair reached down to the middle of her back, and it was shining in the moonlight.

Xander, Oz, and Giles were staring at the woman, who graciously took in the looks they were shooting her. Looking over her outfit once more, she shouted, “Gods, I LOVE being young in this age!”

“Xander!” Cordelia grunted, elbowing him. Oz and Giles had managed to compose themselves, but Xander had no such luck. Xander snapped out of his stupor, and looked abashed from Cordelia to Esmeralda, back to Cordelia.

Esmeralda walked up to him, his stunned look still very much present. Smiling at him, she let her right hand trail over his left cheek. “Aren’t you a cutie?” she asked. “What’s your name, cutie?”

“Uh…name? A name? Yeah, I have one,” Xander drabbled. “Uh…it’s…uh…Xander…” he stuttered. Esmeralda graced him with another smile.

“I’m Esmeralda,” she told him. Turning to Llewellyn, her smile disappeared.

“What’s the problem, Lew?” she asked. “And who are these people?”

“First, let me introduce you,” Llewellyn said. “Esmeralda, these are Buffy, Immortal Slayer, Kendra, normal Slayer, Giles, their Watcher, Oz, Willow, Xander, and Cordelia, their friends. You already know Crevan, and this is my daughter, Samantha. Everyone, meet Esmeralda, Immortal Sorceress.”

“Charmed,” Esmeralda said, smiling at the group. “So, NOW will you tell me what the trouble is?”

“Mayan Prophecy,” Llewellyn simply said, and extended a piece of paper. Esmeralda took it, read it, and the paper burst into flames under her shocked gaze.

“Alright,” Esmeralda said, now no longer the teenager but the 250-year-old she in reality was. The smile had disappeared, and her posture radiated pure business. “I take it you don’t have a translation for this?”

“Nope,” Llewellyn said. “The original Mayan text is lost. We did get a date-fix on it, though.”

“When?” Esmeralda asked.

“Saturday. This Saturday,” Crevan said.

“Fuck!” Esmeralda cursed. “Okay. First, we need to get this translated.”

“Right. We’ll go to Paris, access the Vaults. All kinds of mystical translation dictionaries there. I’m sure we’ll be able to get something.”

Esmeralda nodded. “And you?” she asked the group. “You’ll be coming, right?”

“We’ll need to get them off from school tomorrow and the day after,” Llewellyn answered.

“No problem,” Esmeralda said, snapping her fingers. A stack of doctor’s notes appeared in her hand. “Here. You’re all sick. Flu. I suggest having someone drop them off tomorrow.”

“Now that is handy,” Xander remarked. Bending closer to the sorceress, he asked, ”You couldn’t teach me that trick, could you?”

Esmeralda looked him over, shrugged, and said, “Wouldn’t take that long. Maybe a decade or so. Five years if you really pushed it.”

Xander grunted. “Thought so,” he replied. Esmeralda smiled, and patting him on the back.

“Don’t worry, Cutie. If you ever want off from school, just give me a call.”

“Hey!” Cordelia shouted. “Stop hitting on my boyfriend!”

Esmeralda raised an eyebrow. “We’re just talking. Now, unless you don’t trust your beau, I suggest you let us talk.”

“It’s you I don’t trust!” Cordelia shouted.

Esmeralda smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t rape him. That is, not unless he wants me to.” She looked at him

Xander’s mouth opened, and no sound came out. He looked like a cornered animal from one woman to the other, trying desperately to come up with something to say.

“Esmeralda,” Llewellyn interrupted. Once more, Esmeralda became business incorporate as she turned to Llewellyn. “Since you got everyone off without too much problem, maybe we should move this party to Paris?”

Esmeralda nodded. “Right. Alright, everybody! Hang on for the ride of your life!” Esmeralda closed her eyes, concentrated for a moment or two, and clapped her hands, twice, in short succession. A gate opened in front of them, a blue ring around a hole.

“Alright, step through,” Esmeralda said. “It’ll close as soon as I’m through, so I go last.”

Llewellyn nodded, and stepped through, having done this before. Crevan and Sam followed, and the Scoobies looked from one to the other. Shrugging, Buffy went first, followed closely by Kendra. The rest followed as well, and soon everyone found themselves in Paris, where the sun was beginning to rise.

“Damn time zones,” Crevan grunted.

“This is the only way to travel!” Cordelia shouted, looking at the large building they had materialized next to. Due to the early hour, not many people were up and about. But, since Paris was still a major city, it never went to sleep. As not to gather any unwanted attention, Esmeralda had put them down in an alley.

“One more thing,” Esmeralda told the group. “In public, call me Emma. That’s my official name now. I don’t want any problems.”

“Of course,” Llewellyn replied. “Emma,” he added. Esmeralda smiled.

“Come on, we’ve lost enough time,” Crevan said. “I’m a little anxious as to this prophecy, you know.”

“Right,” Llewellyn said. “Alright everyone. Just follow me. As soon as we get the magic shielding down, we can teleport directly into the vault without problems.”

Llewellyn led them to a nearby building, the appearance of which resembled a medium-sized bank. He led them inside, and turned resolutely to the right, walking down a flight of stairs. He walked up to a man sitting behind a desk. 

“Bonjour, Jean,” Llewellyn greeted the man. “Comment allez-vous?” Hello, Jean. How are you?

“Très bien, Monsieur Morgan,” the man replied. I’m fine, Mr. Morgan.

After the man had double-checked Llewellyn’s ID card, he extended passes to the entire group. “These will allow you access,” the man said with a French accent.

One by one, they walked passed the desk, accepting their cards as they did so. Llewellyn led them to the end of the hallway, and they halted in front of a wall.

“Alright, hang on,” Llewellyn said, closing his eyes, and concentrating. “By the Powers granted to me by the Great Mother of the Earth, the Splendid Gaia herself, I command you to open your doors, and allow me and my group entrance!” Llewellyn chanted.

For a moment, everyone thought that the vault would have other ideas. Then, the wall slid open, revealing another passage lying behind it. The group walked further, and the wall slid shit once more behind them. Unseen lights illuminated the passage, doors lining it left and right. Finally, they arrived in front of a door, located at the end of the hall.

“Behind this door lay the vaults. Temperature and humidity are kept constant. It’s run on a separate air-filtration system, and all books are magically warded against decay. I must ask you to be careful nonetheless. Some volumes are older than I am, and are incredibly fragile, even with magical protection.”

Everyone nodded, especially Giles and Willow, and Llewellyn turned back to the heavy iron door. He muttered a couple of phrases in a strange language, and the door groaned as it opened itself. The group walked into a room the size of which they couldn’t believe. The room seemed to be a square with a side of at least 50 meters, and it appeared to be at least 5 meters in height. Books, thousands of them, were arranged neatly in racks reaching up to the ceiling on one side. On the other side, glass-covered cases displayed magical artifacts, obviously too dangerous to be allowed lose in the mortal world.

At the far end, desks were located, each seat being equipped with its own reading light. The seats themselves were of the most comfortable kind available.

“Alright, everyone. First things first. We need to get this prophecy translated,” Llewellyn said. “I have plenty of translation dictionaries focusing solely on magical names and titles. For those of you who are interested, computer terminals are available on the far left side of the desk area. There are only three of them, but they have full access to the quantum-mainframe back home. Unfortunately, the connection is limited to a T-1. Speed isn’t as fast as it is back home, but it’ll do.”

Everybody got to work, regardless of the fact that they were still on Pacific Time.

Esmeralda sat down, and waved her hand. A super-deluxe portable CD player appeared out of thin air, complete with studio monitor headphones. Putting on the headphones, she pressed the play button. Immediately, the sorceress let out a sigh, closed her eyes, and her head started bopping up and down on the rhythm of the heavy metal music blasting into her ears. God, I love being young in this age, her mind said once again. Oh, well. Better get to work.

Her eyes still closed, Esmeralda let her magical inner eye go over the books in the massive library. Selecting a few works, she waved her hand once again. The books were teleported to her desk. Conjuring up some paper and a pen, Esmeralda opened her eyes, bent over, opened the first book, and started reading, her mind working to the beat of heavy metal.

Not long after, everyone was at work, Sam having a field day rummaging through the books she wasn’t normally allowed access to.

The peace wasn’t to last. A couple hours later, most of the normal members of the Scooby gang were exhausted, and Esmeralda teleported them back home, so they could get some sleep. Sam would have gone on, but her father decided otherwise. So, Sam went with the Scoobies. Only Esmeralda, Llewellyn, and Crevan remained in Paris. Everyone was given a satellite phone, to call Paris when they were ready to return.

“Alright, let’s keep our time to Pacific,” Llewellyn decided. “This is no time to start including time zones.”

“Good idea,” Esmeralda said. “It’s now… half past one in the morning, LA time.”

By nine, the group had gathered in Llewellyn’s back yard.

“Everyone here?” Sam asked, looking around the group. Seeing that this was indeed the case, she phoned the people in Paris. The fact that the phone had to ring ten times before there was an answer told Sam all that she needed to know: thing were getting hairy back there, and everyone was in pretty deep.

Soon, the group was in the vault, teleported there directly now that the shields were down. The group arrived to a sight of three Immortals bent over a single book, and a single sheet of paper.

“What’ve we got?” Sam asked, walking up to the group. The others joined in as well, trying to sneak a peak.

“We can’t get out of it,” Llewellyn grunted. “But we’ve encountered some other things that aren’t biding well.”

“Here’s what we have so far,” Esmeralda said. “But it’s not making sense. Here,” she said, and started reading:

 

 

When the Killers two,

Are on the Hellmouth one,

The world will shake,

For They arise

 

When two who never die

Come to the sunny valley

The world will tremble,

For They shall ride!

 

At Bak’tun 12 the riders shall celebrate,

At K’atun 19, Death shall rise,

At Tun 4, War shall ride,

At Winal 15, Hunger shall thrive

At K’in 12, The Plague will take root!

Three and Ten are of import, so are eb and ‘wan.

The Night will have a sixth Lord,

He shall look down when the clock strikes midnight.

 

That which was gained will now be lost,

as he who has will now be a has-not,

the powers of good will know where to be,

with the help of the witches, three.

 

Only fighting as one has a chance of success,

But doubt with seed discord in their ranks.

As those who never die will they leave the place…

 

 

“Here’s the hard part. We need three witches. We already have two, so we need one more,” Esmeralda said. “The third verse you can ignore, that’s just to indicate when the prophecy is taking place, in Mayan dates. We’re still stumped on this ‘riders shall celebrate’, thing though.”

“And we’re not sure what this sunny valley is either,” Crevan admitted.

“In short… we need one more witch, and some luck in the research department,” Llewellyn summarized.

“Hang on… you said three witches, right?” Xander asked. At the nod from the three Immortals, Xander went on, “If Esmeralda counts as one witch, aren’t we two witches short? Unless you count for two?” he asks, turning directly to Esmeralda for the last part of his question.

“I’m flattered you think so,” Esmeralda said, smiling. She shook her head, and resumed, “No. The prophecy calls for three witches. Now, as a Sorceress, I’m basically a witch that’s evolved to the next stage, so I count as one. No, we’re also counting Willow.”

“ME?!?” Willow squeaked. “But…but…I’m not a witch!”

“Yes, you are,” Esmeralda said. “You just don’t know it yet. I sense great magic-potential in you, and over the course of the next few days, I’m going to give you a crash-course in the spells we’ll be needing. Don’t worry, you’ll be up to speed as soon as you grab the basics. Magic’s easy that way. If you grab the basics, you can do anything as long as someone explains the spell to you.”

Willow was turning pale, obviously not happy with her new role. Esmeralda got up, and approached the redhead. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll do fine! Someone with as much potential as you will be a very potent witch in no time.”

“A…you sure?” Willow stuttered.

Esmeralda smiled encouragingly. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll prove it to you. Close your eyes, and repeat after me…”

Willow, still trembling, closed her eyes. She followed Esmeralda’s pointers, and repeated the strange words the elder sorceress told her to repeat. When she opened her eyes, everyone was looking at her. That included Giles, and it freaked Willow out. “What?” the redhead asked. “What?” she repeated.

“Uh…Wills…your hair…” Buffy said, extending a trembling finger. Esmeralda was smiling widely, obviously pleased with the results.

“What? It’s not fallen out, is it? Because I really wouldn’t like it falling out…” Willow started babbling.

“Your hair’s fine, sweetheart. Just look at it,” Esmeralda encouraged. Willow took a strand of he hair, and held it in front of her eyes.

“Blonde?” Willow asked, looking at Esmeralda. “You made my hair blonde? How do I get it back? Because, well, I kinda like my hair the way it was, and this is not the way it was, so…”

Esmeralda interrupted Willow’s babbling. “I didn’t make your hair blonde, Hon,” the sorceress said. “You did.”

“Ah,” Willow said, not understanding. Then, realization dawned, and she said, “Oh! You mean I…I did it? I’m a witch?” Willow’s voice was taking on intensity and cheerfulness.

“Well, not a full-blood,” Esmeralda said, “But you’re on the way. Come on, I’ll show you how to get it back to the way it was. And then we’ll start with some serious spells. I doubt that whoever’s gonna rise will be impressed with changing hair colors.”

“That still leaves us with one witch short,” Buffy reminded everybody.

“Quite right,” Giles said. “Unless someone knows anybody…”

“Oh! Amy!” Willow exclaimed. “She’s a witch! It runs in her family!”

“Great!” Esmeralda said. “Lew, I’ll be in Sunnydale with Willow, talking to Amy. If you need me, I’ll be carrying my cell phone. And if it’s really urgent, just yell,” she joked, referring to the magical way of contacting her.

“No problem,” Llewellyn replied, bending back over the books as soon as Esmeralda and Willow had vanished. To himself, he muttered, ”This doesn’t make sense! Riders celebrate. Celebrate what? And what is with these things like hunger, plague, war, and death? Things that will come if we don’t stop who or whatever this is?”

“Possibly,” Crevan muttered, bending back over the dictionary as well. The rest just grabbed books, and started looking for references to ancient Mayan prophecies, or anything else that might happen.

“You know, maybe we’re looking at this from the wrong angle,” Llewellyn said some time later, sitting down behind one of the computer terminals. He put in the original Dutch text, and the English translation they had so far. “Computer, reference translation dictionary and synonym dictionary. Cross-reference and report.”

Working, the terminal responded, and text started flashing on the screen.

A couple dozen files opened, and Llewellyn told the computer to print them all. A laser printer burst out the 50 or so pages in under one minute.

“Alright, each of you grab some, and see if anything’s in it that’s making sense.” Llewellyn said.

Not five minutes later, everyone was gathered over a single sheet of paper, one that turned up in Sam’s pile.

“We were fucking idiots,” Crevan cursed. “Stupid, bloody idiots!”

“We’re worse than stupid idiots. This is worse…” Llewellyn muttered, voice actually trembling. “This isn’t just a prophecy. This is the prophecy. The End of Days. Judgment Day.”

 

When the Slayers two,

Are on the Hellmouth one,

The world will shake,

For They arise

 

When two who never die

Come to Sunnydale

The world will tremble,

For They shall ride!

 

At Bak’tun 12 the horsemen four,

At K’atun 19, Death shall rise,

At Tun 4, War shall ride,

At Winal 15, Famine shall thrive

At K’in 12, Pestilence will take root!

Three and Ten are of import, so are eb and ‘wan.

The Night will have a sixth Lord,

He shall look down when the clock strikes midnight.

 

That which was gained will now be lost,

as he who has will now be a has-not,

the powers of good will know where to be,

with the help of the witches, three.

 

Only fighting as one has a chance of success,

But doubt will seed discord in their ranks.

As those who never die will they leave the place…

 

“We are so stupid!” Crevan cursed again. “Vieren in Dutch in an archaic form of indicating numbers! We saw it as a verb, to celebrate, instead of a numeral, four! And we should have seen that riders remark as well! They’re not riders, they’re horsemen! The horsemen of the Apocalypse! Great! Just great!”

Llewellyn grabbed his phone, and dialed. “Esmeralda, it’s me. We’ve translated the prophecy, and it’s making sense…” Llewellyn’s voice was a dead-whisper.

 

Esmeralda and Willow had a problem. School. Amy was in it, and they weren’t.

“I can get her out, but she doesn’t know me,” Esmeralda said. “And if we go in there together, they’ll know you don’t have the flu.”

Willow nodded, deep in thought. Suddenly, Esmeralda straightened out. “How far involved is Amy? I mean, how much do you think she knows?”

“I…I’ve seen her cast spells… I mean, I saw her transform people into mice…” Willow said.

Esmeralda nodded. “She used a spell. Basic transmogrification. God, that means she probably knows the symbols. I hope so. Listen, Willow, I’m going in there, and convince the principal that I’m a relative of Amy’s, and that I need to talk to her.”

“Are you sure?” Willow asked. “Snyder…”

Esmeralda smiled. “He’d better not give me too many problems,” the sorceress said. “On the other hand, if he’s as evil as you say he is, I hope he does give me trouble. Gives me an excuse to rattle his brains with some mind-control spells.”

“Oh! You can cast mind-control spells?” Willow asked. “But isn’t that like…evil?”

Esmeralda smiled, and turned back to the redhead. “Sweet, sweet child. Magic has only one rule: do as thou whilst is the only of thine rules. What it means is this: magic and spells aren’t evil, or good. It’s the people who use them that are evil or good. You can use the most evil-sounding of powers, those of necromancy, and if you use them solely for the capture and destruction of vampires, that makes you a good guy. Or if you use Necromancy to help look into prophesies like the ones we’re facing…”

“I think I get the point,” Willow said. “If you use the magic in a good way, you’re a good witch. If not, you’re an evil witch.”

“Right. The magic itself stays the same. So do the spells. It’s the person who’s different. Now, let me get Amy out, ok?”

“Ok,” Willow said, and stood back as Esmeralda confidently walked to the school. Willow blinked when she saw Esmeralda’s outfit change from the miniskirt into something a little more conservative, giving the sorceress the appearance of being a couple of years older.

“Principal Snyder,” Esmeralda greeted the little man in the office. “I need your help. I need to speak to Amy Madison, please. Family emergency, I’m afraid.”

“Really, now?” Snyder sneered. “And what kind of emergency is this? I don’t run a henhouse here. You can’t just flock in and out whenever you see fit.”

Esmeralda smiled, and bent over the desk, closing the distance between herself and Snyder. “That is none of your business, Principal. I suggest you let her speak to me, right now.” Esmeralda really didn’t like the man, and had forgone all attempts of even formulating a decent excuse. Her eyes were glowing with a strange light.

The short man reached for the microphone. “Amy Madison, report to the Principal’s office immediately.”

Esmeralda nodded, and remained silent. Snyder sat robot-like in his chair, unseeing eyes staring at the tabletop. One could hardly see him breathe.

Amy was there a couple minutes later, and she entered the office with a look of curiosity on her. Esmeralda was disdained to also see a hint of fear in those eyes. Not the fear of being called to the office, but fear of what the little man would do to her. Esmeralda had seen enough fear of this kind in her 250 years. She hated the little man for it.

“You will not hear anything we discuss,” Esmeralda told the principal, indicating herself and Amy. Snyder nodded robotically, and remained staring at the tabletop. Amy looked in confusion at the sorceress.

“Amy Madison, we need your help,” Esmeralda began. “’And we means Buffy and her friends.”

“Really?” Amy asked, immediately finding herself trusting this woman, and the obvious power she radiated to Amy’s under-trained magical senses. “With what? I mean, they have pretty much everything covered. And seeing the way you mesmerized Snyder, you are the magical backup.”

“Prophecy,” Esmeralda said. “It calls for three witches. You are the third. Come on, let’s ditch this joint, and Willow and I can get you filled in.”

“Willow?” Amy asked.

“She’s the second witch,” Esmeralda replied. Turning to Snyder, she said, “Amy has the rest of the day off, as well as tomorrow. Arrange it.” The sorceress got up to leave. Right before walking out the door, she said, “Oh, and Snyder, be nice to the students for a change. If you don’t, I might get ugly on you. Last guy I turned ugly on now sings soprano with the Weiner Sanger Knaben.”

Snyder nodded robotically. Amy winced, and followed the sorceress. As soon as they left the building, Esmeralda snapped her fingers. The red outfit replaced the suit, and Esmeralda sighed. Amy stared at the sorceress’ outfit.

“Dimensional chest. You’d be surprised what I can put in there,” Esmeralda explained. Willow came into view, and the two girls smiled when they greeted each other.

“Now, we’d better do this at Lew’s place,” Esmeralda said. “Now, unless one of you has a car, I think we’ll be taking my ride.”

When Amy shook her head, Esmeralda smiled. “Thought so,” the sorceress said smugly, and snapped her fingers. At exactly the same time, Esmeralda’s outfit changed to the bright red motorcycle outfit, and a bike with sidecar appeared at the curb.

“No, who rides in the car, and who rides on the back?” the sorceress asked, getting up on the bike, and putting on the helmet. The two teenagers looked at each other, and shrugged. Willow took the helmet Esmeralda extended, and gingerly crawled up behind the Immortal. Amy took the other helmet, and got in the car.

Esmeralda gunned the engine, and roared off. Not long after, bike and motorcycle outfit disappeared once again when the three were in front of Lew’s house.

“Come on,” Esmeralda encouraged, pushing open the front door, and greeted Xavier as she walked to the back yard. “We can talk better in the park Lew calls a back yard. Oh, before I forget, Xavier, Amy. Amy, Xavier.”

“Mademoiselle,” Xavier greeted Amy, who just nodded in his direction, not wanting to mispronounce the man’s name. Soon, the three were seated in Llewellyn’s back yard.

“So, where do we start?” Esmeralda asked, looking at Willow. “Since I’ve not been here long, I think I’m not really the best to tell this…”

“Oh,” Willow replied. “Okay…uh…Amy, this is going to sound strange, but…” Willow seemed to get into the story as she told it. Amy looked increasingly dubious as Willow explained, and when the story was finally finished, she looked at Esmeralda.

“I…this…it’s overwhelming,” Amy told the sorceress.

Esmeralda swung her hand, and a knife appeared. “Check if it’s a real blade,” the sorceress told the younger witch. Amy looked at the blade, and ran her finger over it. She yelped as the blade cut through her skin.

“Real,” Amy said.

Esmeralda smiled, and made a deep cut in her wrist. Blood started squirting as the Immortal expertly cut the artery in her wrist. Amy yelped, jumped up, and wanted to run off. Something compelled her to remain… and she saw the wound close within seconds, scar over, and completely disappear. The wound was gone within five minutes, all the time Amy stared at it.

“You…that’s a magic trick!” Amy moaned.

Esmeralda shook her head. “That is not the way magic-healing works, and you know it!” the sorceress said, getting up. “Amy, I am two hundred and fifty years old, and I will look 17 for the rest of my god-damned life!”

Amy took deep breaths, and sat down. “I…I…this…”

“Amy, we need your help. We need a third witch, and Willow here has no experience whatsoever. We need to teach her all we can within the next 48 hours, tops.”

Amy looked at her friend, and Willow nodded. “Trust her,” Willow said. “Lew and Crevan are good friends… and they trust her with their lives. So, the rest of us do too.”

“Alright,” Amy said, after a couple of minutes of deep thought. Minutes Esmeralda gladly gave the younger witch, knowing just how hard this all was to accept. “I’ll help.”

“Glad you decided that,” Esmeralda said. “Come on, the temple is this way it’s built right over a focal point of magical energy, and it’ll help Willow’s emerging abilities.”

“You have your own temple?” Amy asked.

“Llewellyn does,” Esmeralda said. “It’s just a minor focal, though. Don’t get any ideas about casting Armageddon-type spells.”

“Armageddon?” Willow squeaked.

“Armageddon is the highest-level fire spell. A fireball on steroids with a major attitude problem,” Esmeralda explained. “Takes a very potent War-mage with at least 800 years of experience to cast it, and it is able to level half a city when cast at full power.”

“War-mage?” Willow asked. “And just what is the difference between a sorceress and a witch?”

Esmeralda leaned against a pillar of the temple. “Well, there are different levels to magic-users. First, we have the witches. Either by training or by birth, a witch is the lowest level of the magic-users. He or she is able to cast very potent spells, but a witch is hindered by needing to recite spells, wave hands, and sometimes, needing supplies in the form of herbs or objects. Then, the next level is the mage. A mage is able to tap into the magic directly, and is thus able to cast spells without actually having to recite anything. Has advantages, but the spells a mage can cast are limited, as is the potency of them. In other words, a very skilled witch can kick any mage’s ass. As long as the mage doesn’t revert to witchcraft himself, that is.

“Now, the level after a mage is the level of the sorcerer, or the sorceress, which I am. A sorcerer is able to direct-cast most spells witches can, and he has access to some other spells as well, like teleportation, or dimensional storage. You’ve seen me use it quite often. My bike, my clothes… they’re all stored in a dimensional storage, and I can just pull out and use whatever I want.

“After a sorceress comes a wizard. A wizard is a potent bastard. Not recommended to tackle unless you’re a wizard yourself. He’s able to change you into a toad by just looking at you. And then…then there is the War-mage, or Battle-mage, or Combat-mage, or whatever you want to call him. A War-mage… well, a War-mage is something of a myth. Everyone says they’ve never seen one. But, since the spells exist for his level, there must be something of truth in it.”

“Wow,” Willow whispered. “And how do you rise in level?”

Esmeralda smiled. “If I knew that, I’d do whatever it takes to get to War-mage, wouldn’t I?” She smiled. “In fact, one day, you wake up, and you just know you’re a sorceress, or a wizardess. The magic decides whether you rise in a level, or not.”

“And what about others? Necromancers, for instance?” Amy asked.

“Necromancers, Priests, Priestesses, Druids, and Druid-warriors have their own classifications, because they don’t really conform to any of the ‘normal’ magic-user’s abilities. Llewellyn is a Druid-warrior, and even a War-mage couldn’t handle him.”

“What?” the two witches shouted at the same time.

“As a Druid-warrior, Llewellyn is very close to nature, and to the Gods. A Druid-warrior is one chosen by Gaia, the Mother-Goddess of Earth and all that lives. Well… he’s 1700 years old. He has done some pretty amazing stuff. He wrote a lot of books, too.”

“So?” Amy asked.

“He wrote the Necronomicon,” Esmeralda said, seeing if any of them would figure it out. She knew the chances were slim, unless one of them had read the book.

Amy and Willow made eye contact, stared very hard at one another, and finally turned to Esmeralda. “He uses black magic?” Amy asked.

“There is no black magic,” Willow said. “Only the person who uses the magic is good or evil. The magic itself is neutral, neither good nor bad. Em, please… don’t tell me that Llewellyn has forged a deal with one of the Elder Gods…” Willow begged, addressing the sorceress for the last part of her statement.

“Alright, then I won’t tell,” the sorceress said, shutting up.

“Wha… Marduk, Lord of Magicians?” Amy asked. Esmeralda nodded, and looked at Willow.

“Alright! Tell!” the redhead said.

“Llewellyn has an amulet, allowing him to invoke Marduk’s help. He can only do so under the most terrible of circumstances, since Marduk, Supreme Lord of Magicians and of the Elder Gods, doesn’t like being disturbed, and Lew has about as much chance of getting toasted than he is of getting help. But, when Lew gets Marduk’s help, it arrives in the form of a zero-magic net. It’s a double-edged sword, basically. All magic is useless, but he can’t cast any magic of his own.”

“So a War-mage…” Amy started.

“Would be going up against an Immortal trained to fight vampires, demons, and black mages for 1500 years, who is now totally immune to any sort of magic,” Esmeralda finished. “I think I’m the only magic-user on the planet who can defend herself with conventional weapons, since I’m also an Immortal. I can tell you, if any magic-users out there went up against Lew, they wouldn’t know what hit them. That is, if Marduk’s in a good mood, and Lew has the guts to call for his help.”

Esmeralda’s phone rang. She took the call. “Esmeralda, it’s me. We’ve translated the prophecy, and it’s making sense…” she heard Llewellyn’s voice say in a dead-whisper. She hadn’t heard him use that voice since the start of World War Two. Shaking, she put the phone down, and put it on speaker.

“Lew, Willow and I have found Amy. She knows, and is willing to help. What have we got?” Esmeralda asked, trying to keep her voice level. Truth was, she was scared. Llewellyn’s voice did not bode well.

Llewellyn read the prophecy. The implications sank in quickly, even to Amy.

“You are telling me that an ancient Mayan prophecy predicted the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? A people that didn’t know horses, or the bible?” Esmeralda asked.

“Scary, huh?” Llewellyn asked, voice trembling. “We double-checked. It’s not a fraud. Anyway, we have Four Horsemen coming to party on Saturday, and it’s up to us to make sure they leave in an orderly fashion!”

“We’ll be right there,” Esmeralda said, after looking at Amy and Willow. Both teenagers were very pale, yet nodded bravely. They realized the importance. Both knew that they were needed.

“Ok,” Llewellyn said, and cut off. Esmeralda waved her hand. Half a second later, three magic-users were sitting in the Vault, surrounding a cell phone. Esmeralda closed the phone, and stood up. Willow and Amy did the same.

“Everyone, Amy. Amy, Llewellyn, Sam, Kendra, Crevan, Oz, and Cordelia. I believe you know the rest?” Esmeralda introduced. Amy nodded.

Everyone nodded in her direction, and went back to the books. “Glad to see you,” Llewellyn said. “Mother knows how much we can use the help.”

“Saying ‘Mother’ is like saying ‘God,” Esmeralda told Amy, who looked confused at the statement. “Gaia, remember?”

Amy nodded in understanding. “Grab a book,” Llewellyn said amicably, pointing to a pile of books lying on the desk. “Those are books that should contain references.”

Amy did as she was asked, and went to work. A couple of hours later, Kendra pulled everyone’s attention to a couple of passages she had found in her book.

“This is not good,” the Slayer said. “It appears that this text predates the Bible, and the Mayans. The Mayans didn’t write it. Here it’s mentioned as being found, and translated. The text itself isn’t cited, but it’s being referred to. The Mayans were apparently scared to death of it, called it an evil text, and locked it away in a big pyramid. That’s why that Jesuit Monk went to it… as Christian man, he wanted to exorcise the evil to impress the Mayan people that were still on the site at the time. Even though their civilization had fallen, it appears that there were still guards at the cite.”

“Shit,” Llewellyn voiced everyone’s thoughts. “Now we definitely know it’s not a fraud.”

“So what do we do?” Buffy asked. “Now we know when they’ll come to town, and that they will come to town. What will we do?”

“Train,” Llewellyn said. “Train as if the world will end. The Four Horsemen… And there’s not enough time to call in backup…”

“Hey!” Esmeralda said, affronted. “I can get to anyone, everywhere!”

“I’m talking about Divine Interventions,” Llewellyn said. “Chances are good the Gods know about this anyway… no way would those Horsemen rise otherwise. Something must seriously be wrong.”

Esmeralda nodded. “Right. My mistake.”

“Anyway, we need to find out where they’ll rise. The text says at midnight on Saturday, but we have no clue where,” Llewellyn said.

“Yes, we do,” Esmeralda said. Llewellyn looked confused at the sorceress. “Things of their magnitude can’t rise just anywhere. They need a very large portal. And there aren’t that many of them around.”

Llewellyn nodded. “A portal that can get the Horsemen out of Hell… You think the Hellmouth will be opened?” the Druid asked Esmeralda.

“Definitely,” Esmeralda said. “It’s either in Sunnydale, or it’s going to be the Vesuvius, and I doubt that even the Horsemen would be so stupid as to use a volcano. Last guy to try that was Mordrius, and we all know what happened to him.”

“I think I speak for anyone here when I ask ‘Mordrius’?” Xander asked.

“Think 79 AD,” Crevan said.

Xander looked confused for a moment, and finally said, “Ah. Pompeii, right?”

“Right,” Llewellyn said. “The Vesuvius is a portal almost as big as the Hellmouth. Always open, and bi-directional. That’s upside. The downside: the portal is located one kilometer under the Earth’s surface. No one, demon, human, vampire, or anything else is stupid enough to try and use that portal since Mordrius, back in 79.”

“Isn’t Hell supposed to be hot?” Sam asked. “Well, if it’s hot, why aren’t these things used to the heat, and just rise?”

“Yes, it’s hot in Hell, Sam. And yes, demons can withstand some pretty high temperatures. But not even Satan Himself can withstand magma of a couple thousand degrees,” Llewellyn explained.

“Ah,” Samantha replied. Shrugging, she said, “Just asking.”

“Anyway, the Hellmouth seems to be the best bet,” Llewellyn said.

“We need to get training,” Esmeralda told Willow and Amy. “I’ll make experts out of you in 48 hours.”

“We need to get training too,” Llewellyn told Buffy. “I’m going to pour every devious trick I’ve come across in 1500 years into you.”

“What about us?” Xander asked. “Willow and Amy are going with the Magic Lady, Buffy hangs with Crevan and Lew, and what does the rest of us get to do?”

Llewellyn turned to the teenager. “The Four Horsemen aren’t some vampire cult, Xander,” the Druid said. “Me, Crevan, Buffy, and Esmeralda are Immortal. We can take a lot of damage, and keep going. I’m not happy about Willow and Amy, but the prophecy requires them. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt…”

“Hey!” Xander interrupted. Everyone stared at him. A little more subdued, he continued, “We’ve been helping Buffy for some time. Believe me, we know what’s out there. And we can help!”

Llewellyn sighed, and closed his eyes. “I’ve lost so many mortal friends to this cause,” the Immortal said quietly. “It hits me harder each and every time. Xander,” At this point Llewellyn looked up, “believe me. Things are going to be dangerous. Very dangerous.”

“So?” Xander asked, a bit very subdued with what Llewellyn had just told the group. “Lew… Train us! Show us how we can help! With anything!”

“I must admit, Mr. Harris does have a point,” Giles said. “I am sure that we can be helpful. After all this time, we can not just be dumped because we’re not Immortal.”

“I must agree,” Kendra said. “As Slayer, it is my duty to be here, and fight on the front lines.”

“Besides,” Buffy said, “I wouldn’t leave you guys behind, even if Lew told me to.”

Llewellyn looked at Crevan, who just shrugged, and shot his teacher a smile. “Can’t beat a bunch of teens ganging up on you,” the Immortal said.

“Great. Alright! Once we get back home, I’ll get you all guns with enchanted silver bullets. I’m sure these Horsemen won’t be alone, and you can help with making sure we can focus on the Horsemen.” Mother, I hope I don’t lose anyone of them…he prayed silently. Esmeralda teleported them.

When the entire group was back in Llewellyn’s yard, Llewellyn seemed to think for a few moments. “Ok, this is how we’re going to do things… Amy and Willow, you go with Esmeralda. Kendra, you stay here with Buffy, me, and Crevan. We’ll be giving you some very intense training over the next 48 hours, since you’ll be fighting in the front lines, just as you wanted. You’re absolutely right; a Slayer should fight in the front lines. Xander, Oz, Cordelia, and Giles, you go with Sam.

“Sam, you’ll give them all the weapons, take a couple thousand rounds of enchanted silver ammo, and show Giles the keys to the van. You’ll show the group to the shooting range in LA,” Llewellyn decided. He turned to the larger group, and said, “I want you to become as good as you can with the guns… you’ll be needing them to cover us from the support demons.”

Samantha nodded, and looked at the group. “Alright, this way, please,” the ten-year-old said, guiding the group inside.

“We’ll be off as well. I know some better places to train magic then here,” Esmeralda said. She waited for her two charges to say goodbye, and teleported of to an unknown location.

 

Llewellyn and Crevan turned to Kendra and Buffy.

“Alright, Buffy, Kendra. No more strength training, no more endurance training. Today, and tomorrow, we’ll be doing technique training. We will drill moves into you that have taken us a long time to develop, but it will be worth it. We’ll be condensing six months of training into forty-eight hours, and we will finish.”

“Is this going to be like Sam’s training? Because I think I’m getting pretty good at it…” Buffy asked.

“This will be a hundred times worse, Buffy. Remember where Sam got her inspiration,” Llewellyn told the blonde Slayer. Buffy’s eyes opened. The prospect of forty-eight hours of training worse than Sam’s didn’t appeal to her very much, but she would get through it. Something inside her had switched, and Buffy could feel her inner strength gathering. The giddy feeling she always got when she and Sam worked out returned. Buffy knew she was ready. She would go to the utmost of her abilities.

Kendra, on the other hand, didn’t really know how to react. She had done one session with Sam and Buffy, and had known that it wasn’t for her… she hadn’t been able to keep up. How would she keep up with this? Even though Kendra had been trained from an early age to be the Slayer, the Protector of Humanity, she was also bright, and she knew the limits of her abilities. Then, Kendra remembered the prophecy about to unfold.

Kendra jerked her shoulders back, straightening her spine. I am Kendra, the Vampire Slayer! I shall not fail in my duty to Humanity, and I will fight in the front lines. It is my duty to be at the best of my abilities, and these men will make me reach that culmination! I SHALL succeed!

Buffy smiled when she recognized the passion in her fellow Slayer’s eyes. Even though she hadn’t taken an initial liking to Kendra, Buffy had developed a kind of bond with the Jamaican, and she was happy to see Kendra joining in.

“Good!” Llewellyn said, smiling. “I’m glad to see that neither of you is daunted by this prospect! But fist, I need to get something,” the Druid-Warrior said, and walked into the house. Crevan got Buffy and Kendra warmed up.

Two minutes later, Llewellyn returned, carrying two rag-wrapped bundles. The light sparring broke off as Llewellyn approached.

“Buffy, Kendra,” Llewellyn began, “I was going to wait with these until you finished your training. However, I think it would be better if you got these now.” With those words, he unwrapped the first bundle, revealing a sword. A katana. Llewellyn threw a look at the hilt, and nodded. He looked at Kendra.

“Kendra, approach me.”

Kendra blinked, and walked up to her teacher. He extended the sword to her. “Take this sword, and all the rights and privileges it entails. Take this sword as a symbol of your training, and your completion therein.”

Kendra reverently took the sword, and looked it over. It was perfectly balanced. As she looked it over, she found a tiny patch on the end of the hilt. An elegant K had been laid in with tiny diamonds. Kendra looked at her teacher.

“It…it is beautiful,” the Slayer whispered.

Llewellyn smiled. “It is my gift to you, as a sign of your completion of your training.”

“Thank you, master,” Kendra said, bowing to her teacher.

Llewellyn returned it, and said, “It was my honor to train you, Kendra. You have been an excellent student.”

Kendra dipped her head once more, and returned to her previous position. Llewellyn unwrapped the second sword. “Buffy,” the Immortal said. Buffy nodded, smiling, and walked over.

“Buffy, take this sword and all the rights and privileges it entails. Take this sword as a symbol of your training, and your completion therein.”

Buffy too accepted her sword. Her sword sported a ‘B’ at the hilt. It too, had been laid in with tiny diamonds. “It IS beautiful”, the blonde Slayer said.

“It is a gift to symbolize your completion of training in the arts of the Slayer,” the Druid told Buffy. She looked up at him, confusion on her face.

“Your training as an Immortal has only just begun,” Llewellyn told the teen. “Now, about those swords. I called them the Slayer Swords. They’re among the best work I have ever done, the best steel was used, and dozens of blades have been discarded before these two blades emerged. Use them well, and they will protect you.”

Buffy and Kendra looked at their swords with their mouths open in awe. Buffy was the first to draw her sword, and looked at the blade itself. It shone with the shiny silver color of polished steel.

“It feels different,” the slayer said. “It’s…lighter, somehow.”

Llewellyn nodded. “Modern steel is lighter, yet has the same strength as the old steel. That was the difficulty… creating a perfect balance with modern steel.”

“Why not use titanium?” Buffy asked, her eyes still shining as she looked over her sword.

“Titanium is lighter, and stronger, yes. But it is also brittle. A titanium sword would not survive a fight with a decent blade master,” Llewellyn told the Slayer. “I know… I’ve tried.”

“Oh. Stupid question, huh?” Buffy asked, giving her sword a couple of practice swings. The hilt fit in her hand as if it had been molded to it, and the sword behaved as if it were an extension of her arm. Buffy felt one with her sword. Looking at her fellow Slayer, Buffy saw that Kendra felt the same way. The darker-skinned Slayer was going through some katas, her sword singing through the air.

“There are no stupid questions, only stupid answers,” Llewellyn said. “Never hesitate to ask me a question. I’ll always try to give you the best answer I can. Now, how about we start?”

Kendra and Buffy nodded, sheathed their swords, and stood ready.

“Ok, this is how we start. Buffy, Kendra, you draw your swords. Me and Crevan are going to show you how to fight unarmed against an armed opponent.”

Buffy and Kendra exchanged glances, and drew their Slayer Swords. The two elder Immortals charged…

 

Amy and Willow looked around the new environment Esmeralda had taken them to. The building they were in was spacious and octagonal, each side composed out of a single glass wall. The building seemed to be supported by the thin cylindrical support struts on each corner. The view was spectacular, with a layer of clouds beneath them, and a second layer above them. This told Willow they were high up in the air, possibly on a mountain top, or similar.

But what really startled the two teenagers was the sheer amount of magical power they felt. The very air seemed to be thick with magic, hanging like a fog in the light room.

“Oh! Wow! This is so sci-fi!” Willow exclaimed, impressed. Amy just nodded in equal shock to her friend.

Esmeralda smiled, and looked around the well-lit room. “It’s my home. The top floor, to be exact. As you have guessed by now, there is no building material invented by science can support a room this size. So yes, this was built using magic. This is my meditation room… and I’m sure you two know why.”

“The magic?” Amy asked. “I mean… it’s kinda hard to miss.”

Esmeralda nodded. “This room is built on an exact energy focal. The closer you are, the stronger its effects… and being able to meditate exactly in one is an unheard luxury. Come on, let’s get started. First, sit down, in whatever pose makes you comfortable, as long as it’s sitting, not lying down,” the sorceress said, sitting down in standard meditation pose. Willow and Amy shrugged, and did the same.

“Now, close your eyes, and feel the magic. Let it encompass you, be the magic. Release all your thoughts, and become one with the magic. It will show you great things. Breathe slowly… and release your thoughts.”

Amy and Willow followed Esmeralda’s instructions, and soon they could feel the magic closing in on them. Instead of this being a frightening experience, the two teenagers felt warm and secure in the magic that flowed like water around them.

 

“Okay, Buffy,” Llewellyn said, standing in front of his student. “This move is so secret only three people know about it. Three people out of six billion. Now you’ll know it as well.”

Buffy’s eyes twinkled as Llewellyn spoke, and she clenched her gloved fists behind her back. She had retrieved her weighed clothing. Buffy wanted to be the best, a sense Sam had awakened in the blonde teenager. Buffy had no idea how the girl had managed to make her accept her destiny, nor did Buffy know how Sam had managed to make her strive to be the best. All Buffy knew was that she was better than ever.

“Sam, Crevan, and me,” Llewellyn finished. “Those are the three people who know this move.”

“Cool,” Buffy replied.

“It’s an unarmed move against a sword-bearing Immortal. Or a demon, or a vampire. Anything that dies when you shop its head off,” the elder Immortal explained. He stood in a position Buffy recognized as a modified receptive pose from one of the martial arts Llewellyn had taught her. Buffy believed it was a receptive pose from kickboxing.

“Draw your sword,” Llewellyn told his student. Buffy’s mind reacted instinctively, and drew her sword. By now, she had learned to trust her teacher without question, and when he asked something during a training session, she would obey without question. Yet another change she had undergone. One Buffy knew was responsible for her being stronger than ever. Once she had stopped complaining, and really started listening, Buffy had gained a lot more from her trainings than ever before.

“Attack me. Any way you like,” Llewellyn told his student. Buffy dipped her head as she brought her sword up in a salute. The next moment, she dropped in a Kenjutsu stance, and struck at her teacher. She had chosen a Kesagiri, a slantwise downward stroke to the left shoulder.

Llewellyn ducked, and jumped forward in tiger-strike, two arms held slightly bent in a forward position while his legs were tucked behind him, used as spring to propel the Immortal’s body towards Buffy. Buffy broke off her attack, brought her sword back, and started to bring it in a standard defensive formation. She couldn’t react fast enough. Llewellyn had jumped during her attack, and there was no way anyone could break off an attack, and return to defense in the space of a few milliseconds.

Buffy was the Slayer. As such, she was faster than any normal person. Way faster. But still, she wasn’t fast enough. Llewellyn’s arms uncoiled, and his fists struck her stomach. Buffy gasped, her very strong abdominal muscles recoiling against the strike. Pain shot through her system, and Buffy coughed as she sunk to her knees. She didn’t get that far.

Llewellyn’s right hand, held completely rigid, like a blade, was next to her neck. There was no doubt in her mind that Llewellyn’s rigid hand would have severed her head from her shoulders.

“How?” she gasped, breathing deeply to regain her balance.

“That is what I’ll teach you,” Llewellyn said, getting up, and helping Buffy to her feet as well. The young Immortal’s body had healed, yet she was still breathing deeper to get rid of the lingering pains. She looked over her shoulder, where Sam and Crevan were having a two-on-one training with Kendra. Buffy knew such trainings. She had undergone them as well.

Buffy grunted, and turned back to her teacher, ready to learn this ‘secret move’. Buffy recognized the elements from it, and knew that the lethality of the attack was not in the components. It was in the whole. Llewellyn had combined the tiger-strike from Karate, the ki-disciplines from Shaolin, and the stance of kickboxing into one deadly union. With it, she would never be without weapons. Once her opponent attacked, he or she was doomed.

 

Esmeralda stood at one side of the octagonal upper floor of her house. Willow and Amy were standing on the other side, side-by-side, facing the sorceress. All three had their eyes closed.

“A fireball is simple,” Esmeralda said. “Say the words as I taught you, and feel the magic flow in the desired shape. Every spell is as much mind as it is magic. Resist the urge to create a jet of flame, even though the magic will assure you it’s possible.  You wouldn’t be able to do so where we’re going. Only while in close proximity to a focal is the magic abundant enough to sustain it.”

Willow and Amy nodded, and said the words. A short sentence later, the two teenaged witches felt the magic flow through their internal reserves, directly into a ball of fierce flame. As Esmeralda had predicted, the flow of magic seemed to compel the girls to keep up… create a jet of angry red flames. Willow and Amy followed the directions. A ball of flame left their fingers; bigger and more fierce in appearance than the ball Llewellyn had thrown at the Master Vampire.

Esmeralda smiled when she looked at the two on-racing balls of fire. Outstretching her two hands, she let her own magic work, and brought the two balls to a halt. It was a feat nearly impossible normally, the very essence of magic making the time-stop possible.

“Come on,” Esmeralda told her two charges, who opened their eyes, and ran over. “These are the balls you created. I stopped them. Yes, it’s possible, but only here. In the normal world, a time-stop would exhaust my entire reserve of magic within seconds.”

“Cool,” Amy replied, looking at her ball.

“Amy, your ball is slightly higher in damage,” Esmeralda said, pointing at the slightly larger ball that was Amy’s. It hung about half a meter behind Willow’s. “Willow, yours is faster, and you cast yours faster than Amy. You’ll compliment each other perfectly. Amy does the damage, Willow has the speed.”

The two witches smiled at one another. Esmeralda deactivated the stop with a wave of her hand. The balls flew on, and hit the walls of glass. Willow and Amy yelped in surprise when the balls hit an invisible barrier, glowing in a multitude of colors as the damage was absorbed.

“As I told you, this house is built with magic. It has magic ingrained in the very materials, and as such, it has a very high protection factor. Layer upon layer upon layer of shields and protections. Only a friendly can get in here, guaranteed.”

“Shields? Like what kind of shields?” Amy asked.

“Well,” Esmeralda began, “The outer most layer is a dome-shield, meaning it extends like a dome all over the house, even through the ground. It’s made up out of octagonal facets, giving it a very strong structure. Using a structure some one once taught me, I’ve implemented several magic-drains to help the shields cope with attacks. If they somehow got through that shield, a second shield was built, using different techniques. Instead of relying on brute force, like the first shield, this one relies on cunning. It’s basically a death trap. Any hostile magic directed on the second shield results in an instantaneous mana drain, relieving the hostile caster of all reserves. Not lethal, but for a mage, it’s close enough.

“It would take a very cunning and thorough wizard to get through the second shield without setting it off. Then, there’s a third layer of protections, instituted by Gaia, Mother Goddess of the Earth. I have no clue how it works, or what it does, but Lew has assured me it’s potent. Then, there’s a fourth layer.”

“A fourth?” Willow squeaked. She composed herself. She had been in magic for some time now. Her confidence was growing. So was her strength. “I mean… after those two shields you built, and a shield by Gaia herself, what could possible add more protection?”

Esmeralda smiled, and showed Willow and Amy closer to the glass wall. She pointed to one of the support beams. Willow and Amy bent closer. Yes… there were tiny inscriptions into the beam.

“What…is this?” Amy asked.

“Sumerian,” Esmeralda said, hoping her two charges would figure it out. They did.

“Marduk?” Willow gasped.

“Not Himself, of course. His High Priest,” Esmeralda said. “This house is the Fort Knox of the magic buildings. No one can get in, or out, without my approval.”

“What…what does this mean?” Willow asked, letting her fingers trail over the inscriptions.

“It’s supposed to have the same results as touching a high-voltage electric fence. Instant magic-user flambé,” Esmeralda said. “I never tried it. After all, I’m a friendly. That, and I don’t have a death wish. I know one thing for sure, being an Immortal doesn’t mean squat when you’re dealing with magic of this level. It took Lew nearly two months to protect this house. All in all, all shields, it took the two of us six months to put all the shields in place.”

“What about his?” Amy asked. “Did you build your shields around his house?”

Esmeralda shook her head. “Lew did it himself. Or at least, I think he did… for the love of God, I haven’t detected a single indication of a single shield. That means either two things. Either he hasn’t done it yet…”

“Or he’s better than you are,” Willow finished. Esmeralda nodded.

“Or he’s better than I am. Or at least, good enough so I can’t see it with a glance. I should take a closer look. You never know.”

 

After an average of thirty-something hours of training, everyone took a much-needed rest, sleeping the deep sleep of mage-sleep, every hour counting for two.

 

Time: eight hours to Armageddon. Location: Llewellyn’s house, Sunnydale.

Llewellyn, Crevan, Buffy, Kendra, and Samantha had gathered in the backyard for some light sparring, working the soreness out of over-used muscles with just the right exercises. Xavier slid open the porch door, and allowed Giles, Cordelia, Xander, and Oz into the backyard. One look told the foursome that the two Slayers had increased tremendously. It filled tem with a sense of awe at what the two Slayers were capable of when motivated enough, and when under tutelage of two trainers who knew how to get the limits from their unique gifts.

The sparring group broke, and turned to the four newcomers. They too, had undergone changes. The trainers Llewellyn had dispatched to the shooting stand had done their jobs well. The foursome looked born with guns in hand. Even though their aim was perfect only with the guns they had been given, the intensity of the last few days had made using those guns feel as normal as breathing.

“You look great,” Llewellyn told the foursome. “The coaches told me how much you’ve improved. Well done. We’ll be needing every bit of power we can get.”

“You have done a great job as well,” Giles replied,” Judging from what we saw, both Buffy and Kendra have improved vastly.”

“They have,” Llewellyn answered, turning to his two students. “You did extraordinarily well, doing the impossible under extraordinary circumstances. Never forget the tremendous achievement you managed over the last couple of days.”

“We had the best of teachers,” Kendra said, nodding to both Llewellyn and Crevan. Buffy just smiled broadly, and nodded in agreement. Nobody noticed her eyes lingering on Llewellyn.

A transport hole opened, and deposited Esmeralda, Willow, and Amy. The three magic-users walked up to the group. Immediately, everyone could see the changes in the two teenaged witches. There was a confidence in them, a confidence that hadn’t been there before.

“Hi, guys!” Willow greeted the group. Amy and Esmeralda walked over as well, and bid their greetings.

“Looks like you’ve been working as hard as we have,” Amy commented, looking at her friends.

“You have no idea,” Buffy replied. “But it was worth it, wasn’t it, guys?” she asked, turning around to look at the assembled group. A chorus of agreements was her reply.

“Yeah, we increased a lot, too,” Willow said. “Em showed us the magic. It’s…it’s…”

“You can’t describe it,” Amy finished for her friend. “You have to experience it.”

Llewellyn looked at Esmeralda. “You showed them the magic? Without proper training?”

Esmeralda nodded, smiling broadly. “They’re incredibly strong, Lew. I wouldn’t be surprised if one, or both, of them became the next Merlin. Their potentials exceed mine… the only reason I’m still on top is due to my higher level, and my higher experience.”

Llewellyn and Crevan whispered. Amy and Willow glowed.

“Anyway, I need to recharge,” Esmeralda said. “I held a full charge when we left, but that teleport drained me somewhat.” With those words, she turned and walked to the temple. She disappeared in between the trees.

Esmeralda knelt down in the middle of the circle, and closed her eyes. The magic was strong, but nowhere near as omni-present as back home. Esmeralda took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. Her body relaxed. Her mind gathered the magic from her surroundings. Normally, magic reserves recharged slowly on their own, but actually recharging was a lot faster.

 

Time: 5 hours to Armageddon. Location: Llewellyn’s basement.

Willow was sitting at the computer terminal, specs to the Sunnydale High School up on the screen. Everyone was discussing on how to do this the best way.

 

Time: 2 hours to Armageddon. Location: Llewellyn’s basement.

“So it’s agreed, then? First wave is me, Crevan, Buffy, and Kendra. Willow, Amy, and Esmeralda cover us with their magic. We focus solely on the Four Horsemen, only changing objectives if the third wave is in trouble. Third wave is Xander, Oz, Giles, and Cordelia, using their guns with enchanted silver ammo,” Llewellyn said.

Willow, Amy, and Esmeralda looked at one another, and nodded. Esmeralda took the word after everyone had agreed to this plan of action. “That’s a very fine plan A, Lew. We’ve come up with a plan B. Be warned, it is dangerous. We have no idea what would happen, except that we stand a much higher chance of getting out of this.”

“Which is?” Llewellyn asked, looked confused at the sorceress. What Esmeralda outlined then made everyone gape in astonishment.

 

Time: One hour to Armageddon. Location: Vaults in Paris.

“I think you’ll like this,” Llewellyn said, showing Esmeralda over to the back, where the magical items had been stored.

“I’d better. I’ll have to charge when we get back, and I’ll have to rush. It’s never good to rush the magic,” Esmeralda rumbled.

“You will like this. I took it off a sorcerer once. Name of Tal Rasha,” Llewellyn said. Esmeralda stopped, and stared in shock at her long-time friend.

“Tal…Rasha? The Tal Rasha? The Tal Rasha who imprisoned Baal within himself? Horadric Mage Tal Rasha?” Esmeralda gasped out, her eyes wide, and tears starting to form.

“I take you know him?” Llewellyn asked, smiling.

Esmeralda grasped him by the collar, stopping his progress. “Lew, Tal Rasha, the Horadric Mage, is like the Holy Grail of magic-users. If there was one Combat-Mage, he is it! No one has been able to find his grave, and people have been looking for centuries!”

“Tal Rasha failed, and Baal consumed his soul. It was then that I asked Marduk for help. Together, we killed Baal, and gave Tal Rasha the rest he deserved. In return, I got his armor. Ah, here we are,” Llewellyn explained. Esmeralda hadn’t even noticed that they had been walking again, so enwrapped had she been in Llewellyn’s story.

“You’re a very, very, strange man, Lew,” Esmeralda said as Llewellyn bent down to unlock a drawer that was situated right above the floor. The ancient lock gave way, and Llewellyn pulled open the drawer. Esmeralda gaped at the purple glow emanating from the items.

“Esmeralda, meet Tal Rasha’s Wrappings, a set of equipment believed to have been destroyed in the initial encounter between Baal and Tal Rasha.”

Esmeralda had knelt down, her body shaking. “You…you had this? And you never used it?”

Llewellyn shook his head. “It’s a magic-user set. I’m not a magic-user. Anyway, let me introduce the armor to you.” Llewellyn took out a crystal, worked into a short staff, meant to be held in one hand. “Meet Tal Rasha’s Lidless Eye, a Swirling Crystal Orb.” Next, he took out a horrible-looking mask, with a ram’s horn on each side of the face. The mask was gold, and emitted a purple haze, just like the staff had done. “This is Tal Rasha’s Horadric Crest, a Death Mask.”

“Damn,” Esmeralda said, looking at the items as Llewellyn picked them up from their specially crafted spot in the drawer, and replaced them after identifying them.

Llewellyn now picked up a suit of armor. A full suit of armor, covering the rump, the arms, and the legs. The armor made no sound whatsoever as Llewellyn picked it up, indicating that it was well oiled. That is, if it needed oil. “And this… this is Tal Rasha’s Guardianship, a Lacquered Plate Armor.” It too, gave off a purple haze. Esmeralda was entranced.

“Tal Rasha’s Fine-Spun Cloth,” Llewellyn identified, picking up a belt. “A Mesh Belt. And finally, we have the amulet, Tal Rasha’s Adjudication.”

Esmeralda let her fingers trail over the objects. “It’s yours,” Llewellyn said. Esmeralda looked up at her friend.

“Not funny, Lew,” Esmeralda said.

“I’m not kidding, Em. I want you to have this. I’m sure you can put it to better use. I put it away so it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. I trust you with this.”

Esmeralda cried openly as she embraced her friend. She broke the embrace, and looked at the armor set. Her armor set. She took the amulet, and put it around her neck. Instantly, she felt strong magic grip at her. Stronger than anything she had ever experienced from an object. She could feel her magic reserves expanding as the amulet had its own reserves, and added them to her own. She could feel how much stronger her spells became as the amulet channeled them.

Next, Esmeralda took the Mask, and put it on. Her beautiful face was hidden by the horrible-looking mask, yet she didn’t care. Again, magic gripped her. Again, her reserves deepened. She could feel the mask add extra protection to her.

“Now…” she whispered, taking the armor. It weighed a lot, and Esmeralda looked it over to see how she would get inside. After Llewellyn helped her, the purple armor fit snugly around her female curves. Llewellyn had to admit, Esmeralda looked better in the armor than she did in her red leather miniskirts. Esmeralda had other things on her mind than Llewellyn looking at her. The armor carried tremendous magic, and she could feel it gripping her.

Her defenses were boosted a lot; her protections went through the roof. The armor would absorb 15% of any kind of magic damage. The sorceress closed the belt over the armor, and again, magic reached out over her. Again, her reserves deepened. She also felt more nimble than ever before, her dexterity boosted by the magical belt round her torso.

When Esmeralda reached for the wand, Llewellyn stopped her. When she looked questioning at him, he told her, “That will complete the set. I don’t know what will happen, Em. Anything is possible.”

“I know,” Esmeralda said. “I’ll take the risk, and do it, Lew.”

Llewellyn nodded, and released her hand. “I just thought it fair to warn you.”

“I appreciate it,” Esmeralda said, taking the wand in her right hand. Immediately, the wand’s magic took her. Her mana reserves deepened tremendously. She could feel her cast rate increasing. She could feel…she could feel the magic working in mysterious ways. And then, the set got the point. It was complete. It released energies stored within it; energies Esmeralda didn’t even know were there.

The armor granted her healing. Not much, but her body would heal faster than normal. For an Immortal, extra healing meant extra speedy healing, which meant less time dead. Which was a good thing, because being dead got your head removed. The energies boosted her spells even higher, channeling them through the set after being channeled through the amulet. And on top, even more defense was added to the already impressive layer of shields the armor had put on her.

Esmeralda snapped her fingers. The armor vanished, leaving her in her standard red outfit. Llewellyn couldn’t believe his eyes.

“I am not going to walk over street looking like a runaway medieval knight with radiation poisoning,” Esmeralda answered his looks. “I’ll port it back once we’re fighting. Don’t worry; the suit gives me more magic than it takes for me to port it in and out. Now, let’s get to your back yard. I need a recharge.”

Llewellyn nodded. “That armor looked beautiful on you, Em. Not to mention impressive… that mask makes you look like Death is on the war path.”

“Good,” Esmeralda said, opening the portal. “Because we’ll be meeting the real Death in like 45 minutes.”

 

Time: 15 minutes to Armageddon. Location: Sunnydale High School, parking lot.

Llewellyn’s van screeched to a halt, and the various people jumped out. Crevan and Esmeralda jumped out as if they had served decades with the military. No one could be sure they hadn’t. Xander tried to copy their style, and almost went down on his face in the process. Cordelia found this a good excuse to yell at him. Immediately, Crevan silenced her.

The rest got out without any further problems, and Llewellyn was the last one out, making sure that everyone had left the van. He too, walked as if he had served in the military. The ground trembled slightly, and the group made haste, running inside. Giles, as teacher, had access to the keys, and he used them. The third wave drew their guns in advance. Willow and Amy readied spells while Esmeralda clapped her hands to call the set Llewellyn had given her. A bright flash later, everyone gaped for a few seconds at Esmeralda’s armor-clad form.

“Later,” the sorceress said, proceeding to the library. The stunned silence was of short duration. The doors to the library were kicked open, and a couple demons came roaring out.

“Damn!” Llewellyn grunted, and he drew his sword. Esmeralda’s eyes, visible through the mask, turned black when she accessed the magic fully. Her armor’s glow intensified. Llewellyn grabbed Buffy, and pulled her with him, behind the sorceress’ back. Crevan knew from experience not to be in front of Esmeralda at this point in time. He took a few steps back, hiding behind Esmeralda’s back. The sorceress screamed, and trusted her arms forward. Magical energies were channeled along them, and a massive ball of flame left her outstretched hands, filling the hall. It scorched walls on its rampant voyage forward. The first two demons vaporized utterly. The last three were injured gravely. The back of the hall was blasted outwards. Llewellyn, Crevan, and Buffy dispatched of the remaining demons quickly.

“I do so not want to be on your wrong side,” Cordelia told Esmeralda as the brunette surveyed the damage done to demons and walls.

“Yeah, way to go, Em!” Xander cried victoriously. “Now, if those Horsemen are just as easy…”

“They’re not,” Esmeralda said, breaking off the conversation. “I can feel them… even before they’re fully here.”

The tremble intensified. “Only two more minutes,” Llewellyn told them, urging them on. The double doors to the library were thrown open as the group rushed in. As Llewellyn had feared, a couple dozen demons had already filled the library prior to the Horsemen’s arrival.

The group halted at the scene. The demons had gathered around an altar made of the library table. On it, Angel had been strapped. Amy and Esmeralda, the only ones who didn’t know Angel, looked on in curiosity.

“We know him?” Esmeralda asked.

“Angelus,” Llewellyn whispered back.

“The soul-vamp? What do they want him for?” Esmeralda asked.

“I will answer that question, little girl,” the demon-priest said with a perfect upper class British accent. Everyone stared at him, a fact he didn’t seem to notice. “You see; we need his soul as food for the portal. Which, by the way, is now.” With those words, the priest pulled a stake out of mid-air, and stabbed Angel. The vampire screamed as he turned to dust. Buffy screamed as well, angrily drew her Slayer sword, and rushed the priest.

Immediately, Xander, Cordelia, Giles, and Oz started firing at the demons, putting slug after silver slug into the demon’s ugly hides. With her friends engaging the demons, Esmeralda couldn’t use her massive spells anymore, and she was forced to use smaller spells, intended for single targets.

Llewellyn and Crevan fought as a team, back-to-back, engaging two or more demons each at a time. The ground was now no longer trembling. It was shaking. The shake turned into an earthquake. Bookcases tumbled spilling books everywhere.

“No!” Esmeralda shouted. She outstretched her hands upwards. Her purple-glowing figure looked scarier than the demons when blue-glowing energies started swirling around her body. Directly in the center of the library, a hole opened, sucking in the table-annex altar. Light shone from it, and Esmeralda channeled her energies to it.

“Close, damn you!” the sorceress shouted. The haze of energy around her coagulated into a single ball of white fire, and raced at the growing hole. The hole trembled, its edges trembling, as if unsure whether to open or close. “Close!” Esmeralda yelled again, pointing the Lidless Eye Orb towards the hole. Purple energy blasted from it. The hole started closing.

Then, a howl sounded. The hole ruptured. Four shapes materialized in the library, the hole closing behind them. Esmeralda grunted, and sunk to her knees. She was drained. She begged the magic for a hurried recharge. Her armor boosted her recharge rate, helping her draw in the energies faster. While Esmeralda recharged, the attack plan was put into action.

The four shapes were complete now. Death looked stereotypical: a robed figure carrying a scythe. His face was totally hidden under the dark-gray hood. The scythe looked as frightening as it looked deadly.

Pestilence was a frail-looking man of medium height, deep-lying bloodshed eyes giving him a sickly appearance. The green-glowing scimitar in his sickly right hand convinced the defenders that he was anything but harmless.

Famine looked well-fed for his name, a sadistic grin plastered on pale features. He was carrying a trident, and seemed more than eager to engage his enemies.

And then, there was War. War looked ruggedly handsome. His well-muscled body sported a handsome clean-shaven face. If it weren’t for the broadsword, and the hate-filled eyes, War would be very attractive.

Llewellyn, Crevan, Buffy, and Kendra engaged the Four Horsemen. Willow and Amy remained close to the kneeling Esmeralda, shielding her from the demons the best they could. The magic shield could hold the demons back for some time, but not for ever. Amy was readying offensive spells while Willow did her best to maintain the shield.

The shooters appeared to be doing fine, as a lot of demons were sprayed over the library floor sporting bullet holes. The foursome was pressed against a wall to stop from being attacked in the back. They were shooting at everything that was demonic.

Buffy had taken it upon herself to face Pestilence, his green-glowing scimitar highly poisonous, while Kendra engaged Death, Crevan took Famine, and Llewellyn took on War, by far the best fighter of the four.

Buffy and Pestilence were about evenly matched, his sickly appearance not just an appearance. The Horseman seemed to be very sick, and Buffy could feel the heat rising from his feverish body. How they let him fight, Buffy didn’t know. Her fear of his sword caused mayhem in her offense, however. She stayed away from his sword, and it hindered her. She was slowly being driven back towards the door, looking for a large enough hole so she would stay away from the highly poisonous blade.

Crevan was running circles around the much slower Famine, who was firmly pressed against a wall, defending for all he was worth. Desperate, the Horseman was fighting with a passion and a fire given only to those desperate. His trident flashed towards Crevan, who dodged it. Screaming, Famine used the trident as a Bo, and slammed the stick in Crevan’s back. Desperate or not, fast or not, Famine was still a Horseman. His strength surpassed that of any mortal man or demon. Crevan went down as his spine broke under the onslaught. Relaying on 1000 years of experience, Crevan defended his hopeless-looking situation until his Immortality had healed his damaged spine. Now it was Famine’s time to grin.

Llewellyn had engaged War. He wished he hadn’t. War was well-schooled in every style of martial arts ever conceived, he was faster than lightning, and had the strength of what seemed to be one hundred men. Llewellyn relied on his instincts and 1700 years of life to remain alive, and keep his head on his shoulders. War’s sword flashed, and Llewellyn jumped over it in a full somersault, blade extended. Any other opponent would have been hurt. War simply sidestepped, and slammed the handle of his sword in Llewellyn’s back. At least, that is what he aimed at. Llewellyn rolled away, creating a little distance between himself and his opponent, so as to catch his breath, and come up with something new.

Kendra had taken on Death. The fast Slayer was able to nimbly duck under Death’s large and cumbersome scythe. She struck at him with her sword, cutting deep into his robed torso. She expected something akin to guts spilling on the floor. To the Slayer’s surprise, Death didn’t grunt. He simply continued to attack, ignoring the black fluid spurting from the wound. He slammed the handle of his scythe into her guts, causing the Jamaican to gasp, and bend over. Death raised his scythe for the decapitating stroke.

Oz, almost out of ammo, caught a glimpse of Kendra’s predicament. He emptied his clip into the Horseman, having absolutely no effect whatsoever. It seemed as if Death didn’t even feel the bullets impacting. Oz ran forward, screaming, trying to draw Death’s attention away, as to allow Kendra time to center herself. Death looked up to see Oz jumping up. The werewolf slammed into Death, stopping the deadly scythe in its downward stroke.

Death gripped Oz by the neck, his one hand holding the scythe, his other holding Oz a dozen centimeters above the ground. Kendra regained her balance, and charged. Death gripped Oz’ neck tighter, and threw him towards the Jamaican. The next moment, Death’s scythe plunged down on the two teenagers, vertically going through their two bodies. Oz and Kendra grunted. Death withdrew his scythe, obviously pleased to having killed two people. Or so he thought. Kendra rolled Oz off her. She had felt a weak pulse. He was unconscious. She was in pain, but her adrenalin kept her going.

Willow screamed when she saw the scythe penetrate the two bodies. One was her friend. The other was her boyfriend. Willow’s mind slipped into shock. The next thing she knew, she saw the Jamaican’s predicament. Casting a new spell, she threw a ball of healing at the Slayer. Kendra regained some color on her face. Feeling totally dead inside, Willow readied a second healing spell, and cast it at Oz. The wounds closed, but weren’t healed. Oz was still unconscious. Willow felt her reserves were low. She was only doing this for 48 hours, and she cursed her inexperience.

Amy was almost drained as well, her offensive spells having killed their share of the demons. Bullets had run out a couple of minutes before, and her spells had been the last line of defense for the normal support crew. Amy’s face glistened with sweat, as she panted happily when the last support demon fell. She cursed as well, feeling unable to cast a healing spell, just like her redheaded friend.

Esmeralda’s head rose slowly. Her unseeing eyes stared dead ahead, right at the fight Llewellyn was losing against War. Yet, she didn’t see.

“Not much longer!” Willow yelled, her voice straining in exhaustion. If only Esmeralda could regenerate…

Kendra slashed at Death, her sword and body darting around the mean-looking yet too slow scythe. In an uncharacteristic fit of rage, Kendra stabbed her sword through Death’s undead heart. Death sunk to his knees. Kendra withdrew her sword, and screamed when her sword made a horizontal arc, severing Death’s head from his shoulders. The body disappeared, seeming to melt into three jets of energy. The jets flew directly at the three remaining Horsemen.

“I got him!” Kendra shouted exuberantly, until she saw the eyes of the other three Horsemen glowing ominously.

“Yeah, and they get stronger!” Llewellyn yelled back. “This is more than I bargained for! Esmeralda!?”

Esmeralda’s eyes still didn’t see. Then, intelligence seemed to return to them, and she righted herself. She looked at the carnage, and smiled her thanks at Willow.

“The others get stronger when we kill one of them!” Crevan yelled at the sorceress.

“Fuck!” Esmeralda yelled. “I didn’t sign on for this! I’m out of here!” she turned, clapped her hands, and made Oz disappear. Then she ran from the room. Amy, Willow, and Kendra looked at each other. The group of three normal people had run right after Esmeralda. The two witches and the Slayer bolted without as much as a goodbye to Buffy or the two elder Immortals. Llewellyn exchanged a look with Crevan.

“Sorry, Buff,” Crevan said as he ran. “I want to live another thousand years.”

“You’ll do fine,” Llewellyn assured his student, running like the wind after the rest of the group.

“Guys! Hey, guys! Come…back…” Buffy whispered. Her fight with Pestilence had stopped the moment her friends had ran. The three remaining Horsemen smirked at the teenager.

“Looks like your friends left you,” War said, his voice a rich bass. A really human voice, making his handsome features even more handsome.

“Uh…” Buffy whispered. “Uh…” she looked at the Three Horsemen. Steeling herself, she took her sword in both hands. “Who wants some?” she shouted.

 

“Ready?” Esmeralda asked, everyone seated in a circle in a room right next to the library.

“Could we hurry? Buffy is in grave danger,” Giles reminded everyone.

Esmeralda nodded, and drew stack of cards from someplace. Closing her eyes, she slowly recited from memory,

 

By the generous will of the

Ancients, the almighty power

of the Divine Spirits… Your

supplicants humbly beseech thee

to behold us, and that which we

possess… the moieties of the

One, the Avatar…

 

She drew the top card. “Expertus,” she said. Giving the card to Llewellyn, she translated, “Experience.”

“Furtim,” Esmeralda said, handing Crevan a card with a shadow on it. “Stealth.”

“Spiritus,” Esmeralda chanted, putting the car in front of her. The car held a strikingly beautiful woman floating above the ground. “The Spirit.”

“Animus, heart,” Esmeralda put down Xander’s card.

“Sanctimonialis, Sister,” Esmeralda intoned as she put a card down in front of Kendra.

 “Sophus, Mind,” Esmeralda continued, putting a card down in front of Giles.

“Corpus, Body,” Esmeralda said, putting a card down in front of Cordelia.

“Vires, Might,” Esmeralda said, putting a card down in front of Willow. She redhead wanted to swell with pride. She didn’t, somehow finding herself oddly detached.

“Veneficus, Magical,” Esmeralda said, completing the circle by putting a card down in front of Amy. Solemnly, she turned over a card in the center of the circle. “Manus, the Hand.”

 

Buffy’s sword was striking at Pestilence’s, her mind not understanding why the other two Horsemen didn’t butt in, and just kill her. She knew what was happening, and she wished the others would hurry up. Thank God the Horsemen believed the stunt… at least, Buffy thought they did. She blocked two strikes, and once again darted out of the way, not wanting to risk an attack with that poisoned blade so close. She knew her Immortality should keep her immune, or in the very least heal her, but she wasn’t about to take any chances.

“Give it up, girl!” War said, smirking. “You can’t win! Even if you beat Pestilence, you’ll have to face both of us, with our powers combined!”

Hurry up, guys…Buffy’s mind pleaded. “Shut up!” she shouted at War, kicking Pestilence’s sword out of the way, and slicing open the Horsemen’s belly. Pestilence sunk to his knees. Buffy thought she found a clean kill, and raised her sword for the decapitating stroke.

She saw the poisoned blade too late, and it entered her belly.

 

In the adjoining room, everyone had their eyes closed. Esmeralda’s chanting was becoming louder and louder.

We enjoin that we may inhabit

the vessel - the hand –

daughter of Sineya, First of the Ones!

 

Buffy could feel the poison enter her body, its crippling effects devastating her. She hardly felt able to lift her sword. Somehow, she managed to bring it up to bloc Pestilence’s final blow. Her Immortality had another few seconds to do something. Buffy grunted, wishing for the pain to stop. She brought her blade up a second time, somehow. The sword slipped from her hand, all strength leaving her body as the poison ate away her nerves.

 

An eerie orange-red glow surrounded the people in the nearby room. Esmeralda’s chant had become a shout.

We implore thee: Admit us,

bring us to the vessel! Take us now!

 

Buffy’s eyes, closed in pain, suddenly opened. An orange light flashed in them, and Buffy rose to her feet, rather enjoying the stunned looks on the Three Horsemen’s faces. Her hand opened. The sword flew up into it.

“You shouldn’t play with your food,” Buffy admonished. Her voice resonated through the library, ten voices sounding as one: Llewellyn, Crevan, Esmeralda, Xander, Cordelia, Willow, Amy, Kendra, Giles, and finally, Buffy. “Now you will see why.”

Buffy lifted her sword, and got into an attack pose. Esmeralda’s knowledge flashed through Uber-Buffy’s mind. Esmeralda’s magical armor set appeared over the blonde Slayer’s body. It was semi-transparent, giving it an ethereal look. Pestilence engaged her. Using Crevan’s Ninja-speed, she sidestepped, immediately followed by a Llewellyn-type attack. Pestilence’s head rolled away.

Buffy now understood… she understood all her teachers had been trying to tell her. All that knowledge was combined in her, all the abilities of everyone in the group, all their knowledge, their speed, their strength, and their resilience.

“Get her,” War told Famine. Both were now supercharged with the power of their two fallen comrades. Famine charged with his trident. Buffy sidestepped. Famine followed, yet his attack had lost a lot of its power, and it was deflected by the ethereal armor Buffy was now wearing.

Buffy raised her arm, and spread her fingers. Magic flowed through her. Famine was blasted backwards, against the wall. The Horseman roared, and charged, holding the trident in front of him. Buffy looked like the ultimate embodiment of inner peace and calm. She allowed him to approach. Her hand rose. A fireball hit Famine.

The Horseman fell to the ground, grunted, cursed, and got up. He started spinning his trident like a staff, and charged Buffy, hoping to catch her off-guard with the change of technique. Buffy was not thrown off-guard. She might have been normally, but not with all the abilities of her friends running through her. Buffy used her sword to deflect, and charged of her own.

Famine’s eyes bulged, his mouth opening in a silent scream of pain as the sword penetrated his body, the blade sticking out his back. Buffy didn’t withdraw straight. She turned the blade to the right, and cut through, withdrawing to one side, causing the blade to cut open Famine’s body on its escape. The Horseman sunk to his knees. Buffy ended it quickly. She had no desire to relish in her enemy’s defeat. After all, War was still left.

War didn’t even wait for the rush of power to settle down before engaging Buffy. He had no desire to die, and lose his comrade’s powers in the process. This had been the plan in the fist place: combine their powers if the going got tough. His broadsword flashed, and Buffy parried. Buffy blocked his attacks, seeming to do so without effort.

Inside, however, Buffy realized that War - having the combined powers of all Four Horsemen – was her equal in strength and speed. When he slammed the handle of his sword in her stomach, Buffy remained soundless, yet was knocked back a couple of steps. She let go of her stoic appearance, and charged. Both combatants knew that the time for subtlety had passed. Their speed increased, making their bodies seem to move in a blur as swords clashed, kicks were parried, and punches were blocked.

Buffy threw an overhead slash at War, who blocked, both hands holding on to his broadsword. He retaliated immediately by kneeing her in the groin. Uber-Buffy saw the strike arrive, twisted sideways, and used her thigh to block. She brought her sword back down, and went for a direct trust. War sidestepped, and went for Buffy’s neck.

Using the Capoeira-like agility she had ingrained in her gathered abilities, Buffy bent over backwards, her blonde hair touching the ground. War went for a straight downwards slash to the Slayer’s torso, and Buffy placed her free left hand on the floor, raised her feet, and pivoted out of the way. Both her legs remained extended as Buffy made a complete 360° turn, swiping War’s legs from under him.

War dropped to his shoulders, and used them to push his body back up to his feet. Buffy had righted herself as well, and the swordplay continued. Grace had nothing to do with it; both parties were killers now. They went for deadly strikes, trying to get things over with as soon as possible. This tended to end battles quickly, and Buffy knew this, through Llewellyn and Crevan. She also knew this from her own experience with vampires… there was nothing fun at fighting a vampire, and Buffy wanted to kill them as fast and as clean as possible. This was identical.

War was an ancient demon, well versed in fighting skills and combat skills, as well as tactical and strategic maneuvers. War was the type of brilliant leader who would first plan out an entire strike, drill it into his commanders, and then go fight in the front lines. In his own way, War was honorable, and Uber-Buffy respected him enough for it to want to make it a clean kill. Both adversaries kept their magic at bay. This was as much a fight of skills as it was a fight of will.

Buffy kicked at War’s side, and he blocked with great agility using his elbow. He immediately charged with a one-handed strike with his left hand. Buffy blocked with her Slayer sword, and immediately went after War’s left knee. The Horseman jumped up, made a somersault, and landed perfectly on his feet. He used his downward momentum to drop to a crouch, and immediately changed his downward momentum into a spinning one. One leg extended, he tried to sweep Buffy’s legs down from under her.

Now it was Buffy’s turn to jump up. But instead of somersaulting, she spun around her length axis, extending one leg. The foot hit War, making him roll to one side. The Horseman recovered very quickly, as if the kick from a supercharged Slayer was nothing more than an inconvenience. War charged, running towards her like a mad bull on steroids. His broadsword was held to his one side, ready to strike, adding its own speed to War’s charge.

What happened next would astonish every fighter in history. Both fighters seemed to move with a terrible speed. Buffy jumped up. War kept running. Buffy somersaulted. War struck at her spinning form. Buffy avoided by rolling sideways in mid-air. She crashed unceremoniously to the floor, a gash running over her right side, where War’s sword had struck her.

“Damn you!” Buffy grunted, wanting this battle to end now. She got up, blade vibrating with the harsh emotions of Buffy’s right hand. “May scorpions and tarantulas grow from your mouth, may your head be plucked of all hairs, and may your skin crawl with boils and sores!” she cursed.

War’s eyes opened wide, his mouth dropping in sheer astonishment. The next moment, he coughed, and spit out a big and hairy spider. At the same moment, War’s handsome face became distorted as big and bloody soars appeared on his skin, dripping yellow-green pus. His beautiful blonde hair dropped to the floor.

Spitting out two scorpions and another spider, War cursed, “Damn witch!”

Buffy dropped her quivering sword. Before it was halfway down to the floor, the blade started to grow transparent. When it was three quarters of the way down, it vanished. The sword reappeared in Buffy’s scabbard.

“That’s War-Mage to you,” Uber-Buffy said, extending her two arms to her sides, palms turned up. “Minor Armageddon!” she called, turning her palms forward, facing War, and threw them together, making sure her palms kept facing him. The moment the heels of her palms touched, magic detonated around her body. Like angry white flames rising from the floor, magic gathered around her. It blasted towards War.

The Horseman rolled aside the moment she let go, trying to avoid the spell. The spell exploded, removing quite a number of bookcases. War was thrown against the far wall.

He got up, grinning, his handsome features now totally distorted with his baldness, and the sores and boils still doing their job. Pus and blood dripped from his damaged skin. War started smiling now. “That’s the difference between us. I wouldn’t have hesitated to call Armageddon, and destroy half the city, if it meant getting you.”

“It is,” Buffy conceded. The sword disappeared from her scabbard. It appeared in her right hand. 

I hope Lew will forgive me for this, Buffy thought. She raised the weapon, holding it horizontal. Her left hand went over the smooth surface of the blade.

“By the Fire of the Gods, I hereby charge this blade with Energy. God Slayer! Arise!” Uber-Buffy shouted, the ten voices ringing in harmony through the room. The sword flashed in an eerie white light, white flames rising from the blade as Buffy ran her left hand over the surface.

War raised one eyebrow, and charged. He would not allow her to have the momentum of the battle. God Slayer flashed in Buffy’s hand, shattering War’s broadsword. The blade hit War’s armor, and shattered. All the energy two witches and a sorceress could store into an object was released into a cloud of white-blue energy. It flowed freely for a couple milliseconds, before coagulating, and slamming into the hapless Horseman.

War screamed as if he was being eaten alive from the inside, and sunk to his knees. Energy crackled over his body, and slowly, ever so slowly, his screams decreased in intensity. He fell forward, facedown. Buffy looked on as his body melted, releasing the energy of the three other Horsemen. For a moment, Buffy’s heart leaped up in fear when the Hellmouth opened, but it closed immediately after receiving the energy from the Four Horsemen.

Uber-Buffy looked up from the hilt she was carrying. It was all that remained of the Slayer sword Llewellyn had given her. It saddened her to think of all the effort she had to destroy in order to defeat War. “It is done. As we fought as one, we defeated evil. Now it is time for us to separate,” Uber-Buffy intoned.

Buffy screamed as the energies within her body were released, and she sunk to the ground on her knees. A bluish-white mist hung around her body, crackling with energy as the spell dispelled, and Buffy’s screams intensified. Buffy knew what had happened. She knew what she had done. She just no longer knew how she had done it. Her scream echoed in the room.

Finally, the spell ended. The mist exploded outwards, and Buffy’s scream ended as she fell forward. Lightning radiated through the room, shattering light fixtures and breaking windows. Books and bookcases flew on the strong currents blasting through the room like an indoor tornado. Then, the tornado collapsed, and withdrew within Buffy.

In the adjoining room, energy exploded from the center of the circle, hitting everyone alike: mortal or immortal, man, or woman. The energy struck everyone, and they all screamed. Energy radiated through the room, sending desks and seats flying, and pulling down the blackboard. The people somehow remained perfectly still, in the exact eye of the twister-strength air currents blasting through the room.

The energy wave collapsed into the center, and the last gust of air died down. The people gasped, eyes opened wide, and then finally collapsed.

An indistinct amount of time later, Llewellyn grunted when he drew in the first breath of air after reviving from the dead. Pain washed over him when he opened his eyes, and he immediately fell into a pain-filled restless sleep, totally exhausted.

Llewellyn finally opened his eyes. A headache pounded on his brain, and he squinted his eyes against the light. Light? His aching mind asked. The fight was at midnight… how long were we out?

He sat up, and looked around. Crevan opened his eyes, and Esmeralda’s started fluttering. Crevan too, sat up. An obviously tired Buffy pushed open the door. From the fact that she was up and about, everyone knew that she was the first one to wake up. Her Slayer abilities no doubt had something to do with it.

“We did it,” she grunted. “But I feel awful.”

“We all do,” Llewellyn said, pushing himself up. Esmeralda had, by now, awakened as well, and was doing her best to sit up.

Buffy knelt down, looking over her friends, relieved to find them all breathing. “What happened? Will they be alright?” she asked.

“The backwash was horrible… I warned you that things could get hairy,” Esmeralda whispered, holding her head, her eyes closed. “I think they’ll be fine, though. They’re probably just exhausted, like we are.”

Llewellyn nodded. “Let’s get them to the van. We need to get to my house, and get some much-needed sleep.”

“Oh no! Oz!” Buffy suddenly screamed out. “What happened to Oz? Will he be alright?”

Llewellyn took his phone, and flipped it open. To Buffy’s surprise, he stared at the keypad for a few seconds, trying to remember the number, obviously. He then started pressing. “Xavier, Lew here. Is Oz alright? Esmeralda teleported him over last night. <…> He had a what? <…> Good thinking of her. Is he alright? <…> Yeah, we’re fine. It was a big one, Xavier. We’re all feeling pretty much like shit. We’ll be there as soon as we can, ok? <…> Thanks, Xavier.”

“Okay, looks like Oz wasn’t out of the woods. He got a seizure of some sort, due to shock, and Xavier called the paramedics while Sam and Marie kept him going with CPR.”

“Oh my god! Is he alright?” Buffy asked, fear for her friend taking precedence over any pain she might still be feeling.

“He’s at the hospital. Sam gave Xavier a list of reliable doctors, people who won’t talk. They’re working on him now. He’s been in surgery for five hours now. His condition is stable.”

“What’s the plan?” Crevan asked. “We can’t let the boy wake up alone. Someone should be there.” The people who were awake looked at Willow, still out cold on the floor.

“I’ll port us,” Esmeralda said stubbornly. “Everyone gather in a circle. I don’t have the power to create a gate, so I’ll need to do a port. Get as close together as you can.”

“You sure, Em? You’re as drained as we are,” Llewellyn said.

“I’ll be fine,” Esmeralda said, hushing the group together.

The next moment, she closed her eyes, and clapped her hands. Her face twisted in pain. The group ported. Esmeralda fainted with a pain-filled cry of anguish. The group stood in Llewellyn’s backyard.

“Dammit, Em,” Llewellyn cursed, picking up her limp body. “Buffy, could you get Xavier and Marie? Sam’s at the hospital waiting for Oz, so don’t bother looking for her.”

“Ok, Lew,” Buffy said, rushing inside. Crevan picked up Willow’s body, and followed Llewellyn inside. Llewellyn’s spare rooms were soon filled in as Buffy, Xavier and Marie helped bring in the rest of the group.

“Marie will help me pick up the van, Monsieur. You should go to the hospital and be with Monsieur Oz,” Xavier told Llewellyn.

Llewellyn smiled at the man. “Thanks, Xavier. You’re a good friend.” The man smiled in gratitude, and dipped his head.

“And you are a good friend as well, Monsieur,” Xavier replied, accepting the keys to the van.

“Come on,” Llewellyn told Crevan and Buffy. “We’ll take Buffy’s car. Fun as the Viper is, three just won’t fit.”

Buffy nodded, and took her car keys from her pocket. “I just don’t feel up to it,” she explained, handing out the keys to Llewellyn. It had been some sort of unspoken rule: when taking a certain person’s transport, that person got to drive. As such, most of the Scooby Gang had somehow gotten out of Buffy’s car, not believing a word when Llewellyn told them Buffy had become a good driver under his tutelage.

Llewellyn smiled, and took the keys. “You’re welcome to stay here,” he offered. “There’s always room left. This place could house an army.”

Buffy shook her head. “I need to be there. I’m the Slayer. Duty and stuff,” she replied.

Llewellyn nodded, and preceded the group to the garage. They left soon after, Buffy’s convertible keeping its roof deployed for one of the few times since it had been in use.

 

It was a dejected and exhausted group that sat in the hospital waiting room: Buffy, Llewellyn, and Crevan exhausted from a very rough night, and Sam exhausted from not getting much sleep. Needless to say, she was in the best shape of all of them.

Finally, the doctor emerged. Buffy was nodding off at the time, with Llewellyn and Crevan doing their very best not to follow suit. Sam was reading a small tome she had brought with her from home.

“Honest, Tim. How is he?” Llewellyn asked, getting up to talk to the doctor. Buffy awakened rudely and jumped up. Crevan still beat her to it. So did Sam.

“He’s a remarkably strong young man,” the doctor answered. “We almost lost him on four separate occasions. We managed to resuscitate him every time. His will to live is extreme.” Then, something seemed to snap in the doctor. “Jesus, Lew! What did you do to the poor boy?”

“Four Horsemen. Death. Scythe. Not pretty,” Llewellyn grunted. “What are his chances?”

“A scythe?” Tim gasped. Shaking his head, he seemed to be able to clear it. “The…scythe…hit the liver, kidneys, stomach, bottom of the lungs, and his heart. It severed his spine… it’s not pretty. We managed to save enough of his liver. We closed one kidney, and it’s unknown whether or not that one will make it. The damage to his heart and lungs has been repaired. But, with the spine severed, even if he makes it, he will probably never walk again.”

Buffy tuned out when Llewellyn and the doctor started trading medical mumbo-jumbo. What she had heard so far had upset her enough. Oz would never be able to walk again… the scythe had done massive damage…

Shaking her head sadly, Buffy sat down. Sam sat down right next to the Slayer.

“We’ll pull him through,” the girl sad with conviction. “If he lives, Dad will use magic to heal his spine.”

“If?” Buffy asked. “If he lives?”

“He will,” Samantha said, sounding convinced.

 

Esmeralda starred groggily at the bowl of cereal. She couldn’t remember waking up, getting out of her room, or getting downstairs. She couldn’t even remember how she got this bowl of cereal, although she does remember Xavier bringing it.

Feeling no particular desire to eat, she just spooned the food around in the bowl. She felt like shit. For the first time since becoming immortal, the sorceress felt sick.

The door opened. Willow staggered through, her head held firmly in her hands, moaning in pain.

Poor kid, Esmeralda thought. This must’ve hit her hard. When Willow looked up at the sorceress, something seemed to happen. The redhead looked confusedly at Esmeralda, and sat down.

“What happened?” the witch asked. Esmeralda thought a few seconds. She had felt something… but because of her feeling like she did, she had paid no attention. Taking a deep breath, and fighting off the rising nausea, Esmeralda focused on the feeling.

A WHAT? She thought, her eyes opening widely, staring directly at the witch. “Willow… what did you feel, and when did you start feeling it?”

“I…eh…like a splitting headache, and my stomach…and I felt…” Willow stammered, trying to convey the sensation. “It felt odd. Painful…but odd.”

“You felt a Buzz,” Esmeralda whispered.

“Ah,” Willow said. Then, the implications sank in. “Ah! That’s… that’s not good, is it?”

Esmeralda got up, and yelled for Xavier. The man appeared, concerned. “Xavier, we need to check something. Could you get me a knife? Sharp, preferably.”

Xavier’s eyes went wide. “Oui, Mademoiselle,” he said, and disappeared. He was back within a minute. Esmeralda put her hand flat on the table, and stabbed at it with the knife. The wound closed, slower than usual, but still on the Immortal scale. Wiping the knife, the sorceress extended it to the witch.

“Your choice, Hon,” Esmeralda said. Willow took a deep breath, and accepted the knife. She put it to the skin on her palm. She yelped when the knife put a small cut in her hand. The knife fell out of the witch’s hand when she stared wide-eyed at the rapidly closing wound. Tears brimmed her eyes when she looked up at the sorceress, who was staring transfixed at the closing cut.

“You’re an Immortal. No wonder we’re feeling like shit. That union made you Immortal, and it used us to do it. Damn, I warned that this wasn’t without consequences!” the sorceress barked out.

“Shall I awake the others, Mademoiselle?” Xavier asked, still concerned.

“Let them sleep. They’ll need their rest…” Esmeralda whispered, looking at Willow.

 

They had been allowed to see Oz. He was in Intensive Care, of course, surrounded by all kinds of machines. Dozens of wires and tubes stuck out of various places of his body. Buffy thought he looked pale. Tears flowed from her eyes.

Llewellyn wasn’t feeling any better. I shouldn’t have allowed them to come. Only the Immortals, just as I wanted to do… Mother, I’m such an idiot!  Clenching his eyes shut, he tried to block out the pain. Mother, I pray to You… Help him make it.

After only ten minutes, the doctor urged them to go. Only one of them could stay, and the group looked at one another for a few seconds. It was decided silently that Buffy got to stay. She knew Oz the longest. Llewellyn, Crevan, and Sam filed into Buffy’s car. It drove home in total silence. No one said a word. The radio was dead. Everyone was deep in his or her own thoughts.

Llewellyn and Crevan felt the Buzz. They looked at one another.

“Different Buzz? Esmeralda must be hit badly,” Llewellyn commented silently. Crevan just nodded as he pushed open his door. The threesome filed into the kitchen, where they saw the entire Scooby Gang holding their heads.

The two Immortals sat down. Sam followed soon behind. The Scoobies seemed to get better after looking at Llewellyn and Crevan.

“Lew… something’s happened,” Esmeralda kicked down the door. “The union made them all Immortal. That’s why we’re feeling like hell. Our Buzz was drained to make them Immortal.”

Llewellyn’s sad look changed to a look of confusion when he looked around the table. A bloodied knife was lying in the center of the table, telling Llewellyn that experimentation was already under way.

“I have some bad news,” Llewellyn said, decided on just throwing out the news. The group deserved the truth. “Buffy’s with Oz. He’s stable for now, but…but the scythe did massive damage. It hit his stomach, lungs, heart, liver, both kidneys, and severed his spine.”

The group reacted in various ways to this shocking news. Willow started crying, and hid herself in Amy’s arms. Amy was doing her best to comfort her friend while Xander simply looked sad. Kendra looked almost impassive, not wanting everyone to know that she too, felt for the young man. Cordelia sat in a stunned silence, apparently unable to process the recent happenings. Giles sighed, and stared dejectedly at the tabletop. Esmeralda looked at Llewellyn, giving him a supporting look. She didn’t know the stoic young man that well, having met him only a couple of days ago. But she knew Llewellyn. She knew he must be killing himself with responsibility. Samantha disappeared to her room, apparently wanting to deal with her emotions in private.

“The doctors managed to seal most of the wounds, but it’s still the question whether his kidneys will make it. And, even if he does make it, his spine is severed. It’s very likely he’ll never walk again.”

The emotions ran rampart. Willow and Amy were crying now, Xander and Giles were doing their best to be brave, while Cordelia still looked in shock. Esmeralda put her hand on top of Llewellyn’s, and gave him an encouraging smile.

“It’s not your fault, Lew,” the sorceress whispered. “It was his choice…”

“He shouldn’t have been there!” Llewellyn exploded, making everyone stare at him. “ I should have insisted! Only Immortals…”

“And we’d all be dead!” Esmeralda shouted back. “You saw what happened! Without all of us there, you would have lost! And the Horsemen would have been free! And the world would be in ruins!”

“Em’s right, Lew,” Xander whispered. “We all made a choice. And I’m sure Oz would make the same choice.”

Willow swallowed her tears. In between sobs, she managed, “Xander’s right. Oz is like that…Oz…”

“Hey!” Crevan shouted, jumping up. “That’s ENOUGH! Oz will make it! He’s been patched up, his organs repaired! You’re sitting here as if he’s already dead and buried! He’ll live do you hear me? Live!”

The phone rang. Xavier answered. The group stared in shock at the 1000-year-old man.

“Mademoiselle Buffy,” Xavier said, handing the phone to Llewellyn. “She’s sounding distraught, Monsieur.”

Llewellyn accepted the phone, and put it to his ear. “Lew here…” he listened intently. The color drained from his face. Everyone stared at the Immortal. “We’ll be there… Thanks, Buffy,” Llewellyn whispered. The phone disconnected.

“It’s…it’s Oz. He’s had a heart-attack. The doctors managed to resuscitate him, but they’re not sure if it’ll last…”

“He will,” Crevan said, sounding convinced. “He already made it this far. He’s a werewolf. He was run through with a scythe, and survived long enough to be brought to a hospital. He lived through that operation. If there is one mortal who’ll survive, it’s Oz.”

Llewellyn nodded, as did some of the others. “I have to agree. Oz is a resilient young man,” Giles commented.

The phone rang again. The group, Llewellyn and Crevan included, jumped. Llewellyn took the phone, took a deep breath, and answered. “Morgan residence…Buffy…”

The group’s looks turned to dread when Llewellyn nodded, and said with a broken voice, “We’ll be there…”

“It’s Oz, isn’t it?” Willow choked.

“Oz just had a major stroke… he…didn’t make it,” Llewellyn whispered, tears flowing from his face. He seemingly composed himself on short notice. “We should go to the hospital.”

Giles nodded. “Right…right…we should be there.”

Xavier entered the room, having heard the phone ring again. It was obvious that he was hoping for good news. When he saw the faces, he knew something was wrong.

“Oz…” Llewellyn whispered. “…had a stroke. He’s…he’s…with the Great Mother.”

Xavier stared at Llewellyn. “Shall I drive?” he asked. “If you want, I or Marie could tell Samantha.”

It didn’t register to the group that, for the first time, Xavier had forgone titles. In their grief, they were all united, one family. Llewellyn nodded. “Thanks, Xavier. You’re a good friend.”

Xavier shook his head. “And you…you’re heroes. It would be my honor to pay my last respects to a fallen comrade,” he said, bowing his head. “I’ll talk to Marie,” he added in a whisper.

 

It was a solemn group that sat in Llewellyn’s living room, a couple of hours after the funeral. What was even more saddening, only a handful of people had shown up for the funeral. Oz didn’t have many friends, apparently. Only the Scoobies, the members of his band ‘Dingoes Ate My Baby’, and some people none of them knew. Possibly distant family, since Oz never mentioned them.

The band and the Scoobies had been his life. Everyone felt they had let him down, since he died and they were Immortal now.

The group was silent, everyone deep in thought. Cordelia’s shock had lasted for a couple of hours that day Oz died. Now, with the funeral, the last remnants seemed to have disappeared. She felt scared. Someone of their group had died. She could die. She didn’t want to die. She was too young to die. She looked around the group, everyone silent and solemn. By now, Cordelia had learned some tact…a very minute amount of tact, but she still knew that she shouldn’t just say what was on her mind, not at a time like this.

Daylight had shifted into the purple-like expanse of early evening, yet nobody noticed. When the light had fully gone, Crevan seemed to break out of his trance. He stood up. Everyone looked at him.

“I’m going to kill something,” he said, turned, and walked to the front door.

The group looked curiously at Llewellyn. “His way of coping. He always goes out and raids some vampire nests when someone close dies.”

Esmeralda’s eyes tightened. “Crevan’s right,” she said. “Sitting here moping won’t heal us.” She stood up, and seemed to think for a moment. “Anyone else want a drink?”

“I think I will just…turn in,” Giles said, getting up as well.

“Good idea,” Cordelia replied. The group said their goodbyes to the duo, after which the cheerleader and the Watcher left.

“So, about that drink,” Esmeralda said.

“I’ll go,” Xander grunted, joining the sorceress.

“I think I’ll just meditate at Lew’s focal,” Amy said. “That is, if Lew doesn’t mind…”

“Not at all, “Llewellyn said. “Feel free.”

“I…I think I’ll join Crevan,” Willow whispered, getting up, and quietly walking out the door. Everyone looked at her.

“Poor kid… this really hit her hard,” Esmeralda said after the witch had left.

To make matters short, the group fanned out. Xander and Esmeralda ported to God-knows-where, Amy stayed at Lew’s focal, Willow went after Crevan, Kendra had her sword in one hand, a stake in her other, feeling like a solitary one-Slayer army. The rest decided more or less to turn in.

 

Crevan halted when he felt he was being followed. Then a Buzz hit him. Young, and infantile. Crevan ducked behind a tree in the park. Even an infantile Immortal could get lucky and take an experienced fighter’s head. His ninjutsu-sword was drawn. He would give whomever this was a chance to pull out.

Now that he had a couple of moments to think, he decided to see if he couldn’t identify the Buzz. He closed his eyes, and shifted his perception. Willow? His mind barked. Sheathing his sword, he jumped from behind the tree.

“Willow?” he asked. The young witch yelped when the ninja just appeared in front of her.

“I…eh…want to come with you,” Willow whispered. Crevan looked at her, rubbing his chin.

“I’m here to relieve some stress, Red. I don’t know if you want to be around,” the elder Immortal said, not unkindly.

Willow shook her head. Her voice grew even quieter. “I… I want to come…”

Crevan sighed silently, and looked at the girl, who was still staring at the tips of her shoes. He knew she had potential. He knew she had a great deal of it. Deciding on giving her a first lesson in Immortality, free of charge, he said, “Red, you’re a nice girl, but that shyness is killing me. Speak up, I know you can!”

Willow shifted, running the tip of her shoe over the ground. “Come on, Red. Shyness won’t get you places… I know you can. If you want something, go for it! Order me to take you along,” Crevan said, still not unkindly. He was being an Immortal teacher for the first time in his life. Much to his shock, he rather liked the feeling.

Willow looked up. “I want you to take me along,” she said louder.

Crevan smiled, patted her on the back, and looked at the witch. “Not bad, Red.” Putting an arm around her shoulder, and guided her in the direction he was originally walking. “Hang with me, and you’ll have confidence in no time.”

 

Xander and Esmeralda appeared in front of what appeared to be a bar. A bar with very loud, and very gothic sounding, heavy metal blasting from its closed doors.

“Are you sure we’re - “ Xander started, before looking at his companion. When he did, his speech stopped. Esmeralda was dressed in a white leather dress, more a wrap-around with short sleeves, really. Xander could make out the black buttons running all the way down the front of the dress. It stopped about three quarters of the way up the sorceress’ thighs. “ – Waw!” he yelped instead of finishing his sentence.

Esmeralda turned her head to look at him. Her eyes had been made up with black make-up, giving her a rather evil look. “Here I come to unwind.” She looked him over, and nodded. “You’ll do fine as you are. One thing, though: stay close, do as I do, and try to keep out of arguments … they’re good people, but things can get a little rowdy.”

Xander’s eyes opened, and he nodded. Esmeralda smiled, grabbed his arm, and pushed open the door. A big black bouncer appeared.

“Emmy!” the man greeted her, grabbing her in a bear hug, and lifting her off the ground. “Good to see you. Who’s your friend?”

“That’s Xander, Ash. Xander, say hello to Ash,” the woman said, smiling slightly at the bouncer.

Xander’s brain was short-circuiting. Somehow, seeing his leather-clad companion swept up by this huge SOB of a black bouncer was more than his poor mind could handle. Dumb, he repeated: “Hello.”

“So, what brings you here? We haven’t seen you in months!” Ash asked, putting the woman down. He looked concerned at her, somehow sensing something was amiss.

“A friend of ours died. We need to unwind,” the sorceress told Ash.

Ash winced. “Damn. Sorry to hear that, Emmy. Have one on me, ok?” the bouncer said. Esmeralda patted him on the shoulder affectionately.

“Thanks, Ash. See you around, ok?” Ash nodded, and the duo waked down the hall, where Esmeralda opened another set of doors. The music was loud now, and Xander could see that a band of people up on the stage were responsible for the racket. The gibberish of a busy bar almost covered the noise of the band.

“Everyone, this is a funeral!” Esmeralda shouted. The crowd silenced immediately, looking at the duo. Xander looked flabbergasted at the sorceress. “Everyone drink one on the memory of Oz!”

Cheers rose from the crowd, drinks were dispensed at a very fast pace, and everyone seemed to raise their drinks when the duo walked through the crowd. Xander was amazed at the fact that the crowd actually said something like ‘to Oz’, or similar.

A couple of people greeted Esmeralda when the duo walked through the crowd and sat down at a table.

 

Crevan and Willow stood in front of a mausoleum. “Last I knew, this was Spike’s lair,” Crevan said, retrieving something from his pocket. The door slid open silently within seconds.

“That looks like an … interesting skill,” Willow said.

Crevan grinned in reply, and said, “Once a thief…” The next moment, he had drawn his sword, and was pushing open the door. Willow followed. Crevan didn’t notice the odd color of the witch’s eyes. Totally black.

Crevan walked to the back, and uncovered a hidden sewer entrance. Willow followed, silent as a ghost. Crevan still hadn’t looked at her. He still hadn’t noticed her black eyes. Nor the fact that Willow’s stealth was due to her floating slightly above the ground.

“Behind this door,” the Ninja muttered, readying his sword, kicking in the door, and jumping inside. In his roll, he gutted a first vampire, cut the legs off a second, and pierced the heart of a third. Pulling his weapon out of the third vampire’s heart while getting up, the Immortal made a backwards stroke, decapitating the second vampire. The sword’s arc reversed, decapitating the third vampire in mid-fall. The first vampire tried to jump Crevan. The Immortal materialized a stake in his left hand, and staked the vampire.

For Willow, barely five seconds had passed. She had floated inside, staring at Crevan taking out his three vampires. The dozen remaining vampires were staring, just like Willow was.

“Hiya, Spike,” Crevan greeted the vampire. Spike seemed rather calm. “We’re here for your dust problem.”

Spike knew better than to ask what dust problem. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, then,” the vampire said, turning to start making his way out of things.

Willow’s hand crackled with magical energy, and a white-hot beam of electricity flew from her left hand to the wall in front of Spike. “You’re not leaving, Spike,” Willow said in a deep, throaty voice. Crevan’s head whipped around, staring at the witch. She had never spoken like that. It was then that he noticed her black eyes, and her floating status. Oh, shit…

“You’re dead,” the witch continued. Her right hand came up. Willow muttered something. A nearby vampire screamed when she made it burst into flames. Damn… Crevan thought. Oh, well. Good for her. His sword came back up, and he engaged the half a dozen vampires nearest him.

Willow’s attention was focused on Spike. She floated towards him. He looked back, seemingly not impressed.

“Impressive, Luv,” the vampire said when she floated in front of him. His voice was steady, a casualness in his tone she didn’t like one bit.

Willow could hear the death cries of the engaged vampire. One vampire grabbed her from behind; ready to sink his teeth into the witch. Willow snarled, her handsome face twisting in rage. She jerked her hand. The vampire was ripped off her, immobilized in mid-air. “Sauvage ingorante!” Willow cursed. Ignorant savage! “Je suis protégé par des puissances inconnus!” I am protected by forces unknown!

Crevan decapitated his last vampire. Only two vamps remained: Spike, and the vampire in Willow’s hold. Oh, shit… She speaks French? Some reference hit Crevan’s mind. Voodoo. Voodoo’s modern language is French…And why is it that I suddenly feel sorry for that vampire? He smiled. Nah. Not really. Let the girl relieve some stress.

The vampire gurgled.

“Speak!” the witch barked.

“I…I…” the vampire stammered. “You…what are you?”

Willow cocked her head. A tiny smile appeared on her scary features. “I have become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds,” Willow said. She tightened her eyes a little. The vampire’s struggling increased, his gurgling sounding really pleading now.

Willow’s tiny smile had become a grin. “Feel your undead blood boil,” the witch told the vampire, taking a step closer. The vampire grunted, obviously impaired of speaking. “Feel your nerve endings catch fire, and feel your insides liquefy. Feel your skin crawl from non-existing heat. Feel your eyes dropping out of their sockets. Feel your blood vessels burst, causing your dark and evil blood to soil the floor.”

Crevan cocked his head. The girl’s good at this. I wonder what Spike’s thinking now? Spike stared, transfixed, at the spectacle: Willow, who was ‘relieving stress’ on his underling.

The vampire’s skin was coming off, and black blood was running from his wounds, his nose, and his ears. He was trying to howl in pain, held immobilized by the spell.

“Just die,” Willow finally said, making an off-hand motion. The vampire turned to dust immediately. She turned to Spike.

“That was interesting. Looks like you developed nerves of steel, luv. Anyway, it’s been nice talk to you. I gotta go.” The vampire turned once more towards the exit.

Willow raised her hand. Something seemed to snap. She sunk to her knees. Crevan was fast. Spike was faster. He disappeared. Crevan turned to Willow, unconscious on the floor.

“Damn, girl,” he Immortal muttered. “You’re good, but you’ll have to learn some control.”

 

Xander sipped from his cola, looking at his female companion. To his surprise, no one carded her. To his utter astonishment, the sorceress slammed down whiskey after whiskey. She was doing shots…by herself…with double whiskeys.

“That’s six,” Xander commented.

Esmeralda shrugged. “This is the cheap stuff. I wouldn’t do this with the good stuff. John! Another one! And leave the bottle!”

The bartended came over, refilled the magic-user’s glass, and left the large bottle of J&B. Esmeralda took the glass, silently mouthed ‘to Oz’, and threw the drink down her throat with a routine gesture. Xander took another sip of his coke.

After Esmeralda refilled her glass, and she was about to slam it down, her cell phone rang. She cursed in a couple different ancient and modern languages, all of them unknown to Xander. The sorceress jerked the phone out of her pocket, threw it open, and barked, “What?”

She listened for a few moments, color draining from her face. She nodded, then replied something bordering on, “We’ll be there.” Xander couldn’t make it out over the noise of the band playing. Esmeralda threw the phone shut.

“Fuck!” the magic-user shouted, throwing back the glass she had poured herself. She took the bottle, and Xander thought she would return it to the bar. After it all, he noticed that it was about half-full. To his surprise, Esmeralda screwed off the top, put it to her lips, and downed the remaining liquor. She slammed the empty bottle down in twenty seconds flat. The sorceress walked steadily to the bar. Xander emptied his own drink, and followed.

Esmeralda paid in record pace, and the young Immortal followed the sorceress as she left the bar, and walked to the exact same spot they had materialized earlier. Esmeralda jerked her arms. The duo appeared in Llewellyn’s living room. Present were Llewellyn, Crevan, Buffy, Kendra, and Samantha.

“I’m drunk, pissed, and tired. This’d better be good,” Esmeralda grunted at the group. It was then that she saw Willow, unconscious on one of the couches.

“Will!” Xander shouted, appearing by her side in record pace. Buffy was holding the witch’s right hand. “What happened to her?” he asked the group.

“She…well, she went berserk on a vampire. She immobilized him, hurt him badly, and killed him,” Crevan told the duo. “That, and she did it while speaking French.”

“Will took French in school,” Xander said.

Esmeralda shook her head. “Willow accessed the magic. She cast a knowledge spell. The effects are temporary, you never know what you’re going to get, and you sure as hell don’t know if it’s going to be useful. She ended up with Voodoo, since she was talking and cursing in French.”

“What have you taught these kids, Em?” Llewellyn asked angrily.

Esmeralda looked at him. “Thirty hours is just not enough! I taught them the basics! I taught them what they needed to survive, and that’s what she did! She survived!”

“Yeah,” Crevan grunted. “I almost felt sorry for that vampire. Dammit, Em, whatever it was, it was massive. She tortured that vamp.”

“What’d she do?” the sorceress asked. “Exactly.”

“First, this vamp jumps on her back, and tries to drain her. She ripped him off her, and immobilized him in mid-air. After the vampire asked her who she was, she told him ‘I have become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds’. And then, she cursed him. ‘Feel your undead blood boil, feel your nerve endings catch fire, and feel your insides liquefy. Feel your skin crawl from non-existing heat. Feel your eyes dropping out of their sockets. Feel your blood vessels burst, causing your dark and evil blood to soil the floor’.”

Esmeralda winced. Crevan continued, ”And then she appeared to be done, told him ‘just die’, and the vampire turned to dust before it even touched the ground. Then she collapsed.”

“Damn,” the sorceress grunted. “That doesn’t sound like Willow.”

“It doesn’t,” Llewellyn agreed.

“These last few days were massive,” Crevan said. “I think it’s called temporary insanity. She went into the berserker rage. I’ve seen it plenty. Hell, I’ve done it plenty enough in my time. That’s why I was out there tonight… I can control it. She can’t.”

“So she should be alright?” Xander asked.

Esmeralda nodded. “Her magic’s exhausted. That’s why she’s unconscious, to regenerate. She’s asleep, if you want. She just needed to…well, to release. Her instincts told her to go with Crevan. She could feel the same signs in him, at a subconscious level.”

“Kid’s got great taste in role-models,“ Crevan muttered. “I’m about the worst influence one could ever want.”

Llewellyn smiled, the edge of worry gone. “Hey, You’re not that bad… after all, if you were, I wouldn’t let you come within a hundred kilometers of Sam.”

Sam looked at her uncle with a crooked grin. Crevan smiled back. “Yeah, well, Squirt can manage. She’s used to me. Red on the other hand…”

“Looks like you’ve found yourself a student,” Llewellyn commented. “She chose you herself…”

“Hey, hey!” Crevan said, backing up. “I’m a thief, a ninja, and a whole bunch of other things. But I am not a teacher!!”

Llewellyn smiled crookedly. “We’ll see, once Willow wakes up…”

Crevan sighed, and sunk into the couch. Great…Then, he thought of her first lesson in Immortality. Fuck! I’ve already begun! Shit! Damn! From there on, his mind started cursing in one ancient tongue after another. The others only saw him bury his face in his right hand.

For the next ten minutes, everyone was just silent. Then, Willow’s eyes fluttered open.

“Hey,” Buffy greeted her friend when she awoke.

“Hey,” Willow replied quietly, looking around. Everyone was looking at her. “What…what happened?” she asked, subdued.

It was Crevan who replied first. “Well, first you went berserk, then you cast this ‘gimme-something-I-don’t-care-what’ spell, and then you went after one of Spike’s cronies. You put up quite a show… Spike ran like the wind.”

“Oh,” Willow replied. “Is…is that a good thing?”

Crevan smiled. “Well, Spike and his cronies would say ‘no’, most definitely. But, personally, I’d say it’s a very good thing. All you need to do is learn how to control it a little better… wouldn’t want you passing out every time something bad happens, now would we?”

“I…I’ll do this again?” the witch asked, scared.

Llewellyn shook his head. “Only if you let it. Esmeralda’s theory is that you somehow felt what Crev was up to, and you decided to follow him. It’s only when you release yourself that you go berserk.”

“It’s quite intense, isn’t it, Red?” Crevan asked jovially. “Anyway, you should take some lessons to control it.”

Willow looked at Llewellyn, a questioning look in her eyes. “Don’t look at me, Will. I’m no expert on berserker trances. I prefer other means of rage-control.”

Buffy laughed, a welcome sound after the depression that seemed to hang over the gang since Oz’ death. “Yeah, you cross the Sahara without food, drink, or anything.”

Llewellyn shrugged. “Beats going insane,” he defended. Meanwhile, the redhead had shifted her look towards Crevan, a frown displayed on her beautiful face.

“I’m not a teacher,” Crevan tried. “Besides, Em should be your teacher. She’s the one dealing with the magic stuff.”

“You’re the expert on berserkers, Crev,” Llewellyn said.

Esmeralda nodded. “And my role is almost done. Magic-use is a very individualistic practice. All I need to do is show Willow the way. She has to do the rest by herself. There are so many different paths in magic that it’s almost impossible for one teacher to train a student. All I can do is show Willow the way, and she has to do the rest by herself. Same goes for Amy.”

Crevan backed off. “Hey, listen, I’m a lousy teacher. I don’t have any patience; I’m crude, brutal, and someone of questionable morals. And that’s putting things mildly.”

Llewellyn grinned. He helped with Buffy. My turn. “You have the patience of a granite-rock. I’ve seen you watch a single window for hours until it’s clear, never to move a muscle. You’re no more crude and brutal than I am. A student needs some brutality to perform at the top of their capability. And the morals… well, we’re of a different time. I come from a time where human sacrifices were held when things got bad. Like I said, you’re not that bad. I wouldn’t allow you near Sam otherwise.”

Willow was sitting up by now, and looked at the elder Immortals. She looked around in confusion. She didn’t understand what the big deal was… until she went over the hazier parts of her memories, just after waking up. They want Crevan to teach me… Willow looked at the Immortal. He taught me tonight. It wasn’t that bad. I wouldn’t have minded Em, but he’s the only one who can teach me about this berserker thing. Alright, Willow. Be assertive.  Willow took a deep breath. She let it out. I’m not assertive! She took in another breath. He taught me to be assertive! Show him you’re a good student!

“Crevan, please?” Willow asked. Due to the commotion, no one heard her. “Please, teach me?” she tried again. Again, no one heard her. Taking in a very deep breath, she shouted, “Will you teach me?”

The discussion stopped. Everyone stared at the redhead. “Please?” she asked quietly, looking subdued at the millennium-old man.

Crevan sighed. “Looks like I’ve got myself my first student.” Walking up to her, he extended his hand, and smiled at her. “Welcome aboard, Red.”

“Thanks,” she returned, shaking his hand. Crevan sat down next to his brand-new student.

“I knew you had it in you, Red,” Crevan said, blinking one eye at her.

“Shyness won’t get you places… I know you can. If you want something, go for it! Order me to take you along,” Willow quoted.

“That’s the ticket,” Crevan said, grinning. “Shouting at me gets my attention. Now, it’s getting rather late. Shouldn’t you be headed home for some sleep?”

Willow threw a look at her watch. “Oh! I’m late! I’m late! My parents!”

“How much are you late?” Crevan asked. The others remained silent, letting the Immortal handle his own student.

“About half an hour,” the witch replied.

“Don’t worry about it, then. I’ll go with you, and tell your folks we got a flat tire. We had to walk home.”

“Okay,” Willow replied, smiling gratefully at her teacher.

 

A couple of minutes later, the duo was in front of Willow’s front door, the car they had borrowed form Llewellyn parked nearby.  Just as Willow was about to unlock it, the door was opened form the inside.

“Dad!” Willow squeaked. The man looked at his daughter, and the man she was with.

“Good evening, Mr. Rosenberg,” Crevan greeted the man friendly. “I sincerely apologize for the lateness of your daughter’s return. My car ran a flat tire, and we ran into some problems changing it.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know you… maybe you could come in? My wife and I would like to meet the man that has kept our daughter out so long.”

Crevan’s friendly attitude didn’t waver. Inside, he cursed all the demons in hell, and all the gods in heaven. In every language he had ever learned. “Of course, Mr. Rosenberg,” he said on a friendly tone.

Willow nervously looked from her father to her teacher, and back to her father, who now stepped aside to let Crevan into the house. Willow came last, and closed the door.

Crevan was shown to the living room, and shown a couch. He sat down, not knowing what to expect. He went through the relaxation routine he normally used when entering some really well protected property. Instantly, his mind unlocked, his adrenaline levels sank, and his muscles released. Crevan was relaxed.

“Who is this man, darling?” Mr. Rosenberg asked his daughter.

“This…eh…this is…” Willow stammered.

Crevan took over seamlessly. “Crevan Aegelmaere, at your service,” he replied. The gaze of Willow’s parents was locked onto him, and Crevan breathed an inward sigh of relief. He had wanted to draw all attention away from his student. Crevan had to compliment Willow on her ability not to stare too shocked at him. “Assistant-professor in Computer Science and Website Development at UC Sunnydale. Willow and I were discussing the possibility of her following some extracurricular courses concerning computer environment development. I showed her around the college campus. Unfortunately, the tire ran flat on our way back.”

Willow nodded in stunned agreement.

“And how is it that we never heard of this before?” Willow’s mother asked. Crevan instantly felt a strong dislike to the woman. Where her father was more or less friendly, Willow’s mother appeared to be almost cold. She was entirely too calculating for Crevan’s tastes, and he had the uncomfortable feeling she was analyzing his every move.

I can’t do it all… that’s suspicious! Damn, I should have given her some pointers!

Willow looked like a trapped little rabbit from one parent, to the other, to Crevan, and back. “Eh,” she said. “Eh… Well, it’s fairly recent, a…and…I…I…wasn’t sure, and…and in case…maybe…you know?”

Crevan wanted to cheer out. Willow had given him an opening. He could work with that, in case her parents didn’t accept the babble. Fortunately, it looked as if they did. Mr. Rosenberg suggested that Willow go to bed now, and Crevan thanked every deity he could think of for the chance to leave as he respectfully bid his goodnights to the family. Only when he was in the car, and well underway, did Crevan breathe in deep. Thank the Great Mother I’m used to dealing with angry, pissed-off mothers-in-law. I have no idea how Lew handled Joyce with so little experience.

 

The next day, the entire group had gathered in Llewellyn’s living room. The events from the day before were discussed, just like the reasons for Willow becoming Crevan’s student.

“With Willow becoming Crevan’s student, I think it’s about time the rest of you started as well,” Llewellyn told the free Scoobies: Xander, Amy, Cordelia, and Giles.

“A … eh … wise precaution, Lew,” Giles said. “But I would think that, as a Watcher, that I am fairly capable of defending myself.”

Crevan, who was nearest the librarian, simply kicked the man’s legs from under him. As Giles crashed to the floor, he found Crevan’s blade at his neck. “Yes, Giles. You’re capable of defending yourself. Against mortals. Unfortunately, Immortals tend to have a couple hundred years of experience,” the ninja said.

Giles swallowed deeply, and accepted Crevan’s offered hand. “I … I see your point, Crevan. I think I’ll need some training after all.”

“One thing you should remember: a teacher is like a father. Since natural Immortals are all foundlings, we don’t have parents. We have adoptive parents. But, once an Immortal actually becomes Immortal, the teacher takes over that role. You should choose the teacher that lies closest to you, the teacher you feel you’ll learn the most from. Believe me, none of us will resent the choices you make. Here is where the rest of your life is decided,” Llewellyn said.

“I chose Em,” Amy said. Shooting a look at the sorceress, she added, “That is, if Em will have me.”

Esmeralda smiled, and went over to give the young witch a sideways hug. “Of course, Hon. Welcome aboard. I have no problems with being a teacher.” Shooting a look at Crevan, she added, “Contrary to some other people I know…”

Crevan shrugged, but remained silent. When the rest continued, he shot a smile at Willow, who conspiratorially smiled back.

“Me, too!” Xander said, darting over to Esmeralda. The sorceress laughed, and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome aboard, Cutie,” the sorceress grinned. “Who knows, you might even pick up that sick leave-summon. After all, I’ll be guiding Willow and Amy along the path of magic. At least for a month or two, until they can fend for themselves. After that, it’s strictly Immortal training.”

Giles looked at Crevan, and said, “I think I would benefit most from your experience, Crevan. If you have an open slot, I’ll be glad to accept it.”

“No problem, Giles. Just one thing … you do know I’m a thief, right? Because I don’t want anyone having any misconceptions … I’m a sneaky, stealthy, almost-invisible stealing bastard.”

“You’re all those things, but you’re not a bastard, uncle Crevan,” Sam interjected.

“No, he is a bastard, he just hasn’t shown it, yet,” Llewellyn added. The group, including Crevan, laughed. The good-hearted laughter felt so good, lifting the dark mood let by Oz’ death. Only Cordelia remained somewhat quiet.

“What about you, Hon?” Esmeralda asked the brunette. “Who do you want as a teacher?

Cordelia looked around the group, expectant faces staring at her. “Why would I want to have anything to do with this?” she asked curtly. “Why should I train? To live forever until some clown cuts my head off? No, thanks.”

Llewellyn gently said, “That’s how it works, Cordy … The risks of Immortality. But imagine the things you’ll see. As an Immortal, you’re part of History. You’ll help shape it; you’ll witness humanity’s best and darkest hours. Think of the wonders you’ll see.”

“I didn’t ask to be Immortal!” Cordelia shouted. Pointing at Esmeralda, she continued, “Have your pet witch un-hex me or something. I don’t want this!” With those words, Cordelia stormed out of the house.

“Em, Cordy didn’t …” Xander started.

“It’s ok, Xander,” Esmeralda said. “I think Cordelia just needs more time to come to terms with everything that’s happened. It’s a lot, all at once.”

“Maybe someone should talk to her?” Buffy suggested.

“Let’s give her a couple of days. Maybe she’ll come around,” Llewellyn replied. After everyone agreed on this course of action, Buffy and Kendra did their routine patrols. The now-Immortal Scoobies went out with their new teachers, learning things the hard way, just like their teachers had been taught.

The extra days brought no improvement. Cordelia become moodier with the hour, or so it seemed, and she shied away from everything that had anything to do with demons, vampires, or dangerous situations. Things were so bad that Cordelia didn’t even come to the meetings anymore. It was Willow who went to visit the brunette at home, to try and talk to Cordelia.

“But … but, you’ve got to have some training! What if you encounter a vampire? O … or worse, another Immortal, one who … who goes after other Immortals?” Willow tried.

“But I don’t want to encounter a vampire, or a demon, or another Immortal! I just want a normal life! Why can’t you people accept that, and leave me alone?” Cordelia shouted, her arms flailing to punctuate her words.

“Be … because … without knowing how to defend yourself …”

“I’ll just stay away from demons and vampires, ok? And I could feel you coming just fine, so I’m sure I can avoid Immortals, too,” Cordelia interrupted. “I appreciate the concern, Will, but I just don’t want to end up like Oz … dead, and forgotten.”

Willow’s eyes teared up at the mentioning of Oz’ name. Willow stood up. “Goodbye, Cordelia,” the witch said, and walked out of the large house. Cordelia ‘huffed’, and just sat down in front of the TV again.

 

“I … I really tried, but – but, when she said Oz wa … was dead and forgotten … I … I …” Willow stammered through her tears. Crevan had held a supporting hand on her shoulder up until now. At this point, Willow just turned to him, and buried herself in his side, crying. Crevan put his arm around her without even realizing it as he looked at the rest of the group.

“What can we do?” Llewellyn asked. “Psychology isn’t my strong point. It never was.”

“Mine neither,” Crevan admitted. “Intimidation is more up my alley, but this …”

The doorbell rang. The group was accustomed by now to Xavier opening the door, so they just continued their conversation.

“She just doesn’t realize that this normal life will get her killed, unless she knows how to defend such a life,” Esmeralda grunted. A Buzz made them all look up.

“Mademoiselle Chase,” Xavier announced as he gently pushed open the door leading to the living room. Cordelia walked in with a brisk pace.

“My dad just got a big deal in Florida. We’re moving in a week. I just thought you should all know, so you can stop trying to make me do things I don’t want to do.”

“Cordy …” Xander whispered, getting up, and walking to his ‘girlfriend’.

“I’m sorry, Xander,” Cordelia whispered.

“Why?” he asked, voice cracking.

“I can’t stay here,” Cordelia replied. “I don’t want to die at the hands of some horrible beast, or be chopped to pieces by some sword-wielding maniac, or eaten by vampires, or … or … ” Cordelia’s list broke off. “… Or any number of things. I just want to go back to my old life!” she finished.

“Can you?” Llewellyn asked. Cordelia shot him a not understanding look. “Go back?” he added, explaining. “After everything you’ve seen, and done, can you go back with a clear conscience?”

“Yes!” Cordelia shouted. “You just watch me! In one week, I’m on my way to Normalville, Florida.”

“And what if an Immortal comes after you?” Crevan asked.

“Hey, we’ve all got a built-in radar. All I have to do is make sure that the other guy can’t find me,” Cordelia confidently replied.

“Strong Immortals can home in, you know. Just like radar, they will track you down if they want you,” Llewellyn added.

“Pf,” the brunette huffed, shrugging. “We’ll see. After dodging vampires with you guys, I can dodge Immortals. You’re not going to change my mind. Anyway, I just came to tell you the good news. I’m off. I’ll see about writing every once and a while,” Cordelia said, and turned to walk out the house. The entire group followed, trying desperately to bring Cordelia to other thoughts. It didn’t help. The group could only stand there, and watch, while the brunette got in her car, and drove off.

 

It was an emotional goodbye, one week later. Xander stood there, staring at the spot where Cordelia had disappeared form view, her red car following the movers’ truck, and her parents’ car.

Esmeralda put an arm around his shoulders. “Everything will work out, Cutie. You’ll see. She just needed some time to calm down, get things in order,” she gently told him.

“Cordy’s stubborn,” he whispered.

“She’ll come back,” the sorceress assured him. Sadly nodding, the young Immortal followed his teacher, and climbed onto the bike. After putting on the helmet that hadn’t been there five seconds ago, he held on as the sorceress gently pulled away from the curb, and drove them to Llewellyn’s house.

 

Sad over the loss of a second member in short time, the team went on with their normal duties. A couple of days later, Llewellyn is giving Buffy and Kendra some fascinating training concerning pressure points in the human body.

Kendra, having decided that she was the Slayer above all, had requested that Llewellyn only finish her Slayer training. She figured that her in-born Slayer abilities, coupled to Llewellyn’s enhanced Slayer training, would be enough to send most Immortals tuck tail, and run to mommy. Llewellyn, not being one to force any of his students into anything they didn’t want to do, agreed to the dark-skinned Slayer’s request, but only after a long talk.

“Recap,” Llewellyn told his two students. “In turn, what are the twelve ki-disruption methods?”

Buffy started, “Penetration form.”

Kendra took over, “Leaping form.”

In turn, the two Slayers completed the list.

“Eight-direction Form,” Buffy said.

“Spiral form.”

“Waving form.”

“Closing-up form.”

“Water form. Or, One-Handed form,” Buffy added the latter when she saw Llewellyn prepare to ask for further explanation.

“Ground form, also known as Earth form,” Kendra said, learning from her fellow Slayer’s hesitation.

“Whole form. Wuqi form,” Buffy said. “The ninth form generally taught.”

“The first ‘secret’ form. The Still form, Form of Stillness,” Kendra picked up again.

“Prenatal form,” Buffy said. “Not really an attack form, it is a form used for keeping a youthful appearance by rejoining the spirit, mind, and body, just like they were before birth.”

“Very good, Buffy,” Llewellyn said. “The last form?” he asked.

“Finishing form,” Kendra finished.

“Very good,” Llewellyn complimented his two students. Both expected him to have them do some of the ki-disruption moves. “What are the 108 forms of Wu style Tai chi Chu’an?”

Buffy’s jaw dropped slightly as her brain kicked into high gear. Kendra’s eyes just opened slightly further.

“Always be prepared,” Llewellyn said. “Now, the 108 forms of the Wu style?”

“Eh … Beginning of Tai Chi Chu’an, Raise Hands, Play Guitar, Grasp the Bird’s Tail, … ” Buffy began summing.

“Single Whip, Slant Flying, Raise Hands once more, …” Kendra picked up.

The door to the ballroom annex training room opened gently. Willow and Amy walked inside, unsure.

“Are we interrupting something?” Amy asked.

“Not at all!” Buffy said before anyone could answer. Llewellyn raised one eyebrow at his student.

“Just a pop-quiz,” the elder Immortal replied. “What’s the problem, girls?” he asked the two newcomers.

“Well, we eh, found this spell in one of Giles’ books … ” Willow said.

“And we kinda need supplies,” the other witch finished. “Problem is that this particular kind of supply is very rare. Will found some of it in North Mexico …”

“And you want to get some, right?” Llewellyn finished.

“Yes!” Willow said, louder than she intended. “That is, if it’s possible …”

“Well, it depends on your teachers. What is this spell supposed to be about, anyway?” Llewellyn asked.

“It’s a protection spell … for Cordy …” Willow muttered. “To protect her from evil, and stuff.”

“I see. Well, you two go talk with your teachers, and I’ll play sponsor,” Llewellyn told the two teenagers. The two thanked him, and bolted for the door. Before they were gone, Llewellyn shouted, “Why don’t you ask Esmeralda for help?”

The two stopped. “We kinda already did,” Amy confessed. “She said it would be good for us to do this on our own … protection spells can’t backfire. We also asked if she could do the spell without any supplies, but she assured us that a protection spell without supplies requires the subject to be in the direct vicinity.”

Llewellyn nodded. “I see. Well, since Em already agreed, all you need to do is convince Crev to let you go.”

Amy and Willow nodded, and the two witches vanished out the door. Shaking his head, he returned to his two students. “So, where were we? Let’s start over with the 108 forms, shall we?”

Buffy wanted to groan, yet did as her teacher asked. Somehow, she enjoyed learning Tai Chi forms more than she enjoyed learning stuff from school. Llewellyn really had this teacher’s knack that made everything come to life.

 

“And finally, Turn Body and strike Fist to Back, Step Forward and High Pat on Horse, Step Forward Grasp Bird’s Tail, Single Whip, and Conclusion of Tai Chi Chu’an,” Buffy finished.

“Well done,” the teacher said. “Now, let’s go through some sword katas, before we start with the big work.”

Buffy and Kendra drew their swords. Buffy’s Slayer sword still hadn’t been replaced, so she was using her old blade once again. The two Slayers dropped into a modified Kenjutsu stance.

“Attack,” Llewellyn ordered, standing casually, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. The two Slayers moved. Llewellyn countered, moving nimbly out of the way of the slashing blades.

“Showing off again?” Crevan asked as he entered the room, and surveyed the scene with a single look. The three froze, Buffy and Kendra in mid-strike.

“I’m still the best,” Llewellyn countered, playfully arrogant.

“Whatever,” the ninja replied. “Can I borrow the van?” he asked.

“The van?”

“Yeah. I’m going to take Amy and Willow shopping in Mexico. Decided I couldn’t just let them go alone. They might need a translator. And before you ask, Amy’s father agreed outright. Strange man. I convinced Will’s parents, so no problem there either,” Crevan answered.

“Sure. Borrow away,” Llewellyn said, turning back to his two Slayer-students.

“That van’s not comfy for such a long ride,” Buffy said as Crevan turned to leave. The ninja turned back to the threesome, looking strangely confused at the Slayer. “You can borrow my 325, if you want.”

Crevan shrugged, the small smile tugging at his lips as much gratitude as she knew she would ever get from the stoic thief. “Sure. You do know that we’re probably going to be away until late tomorrow afternoon, right?” As she threw him the keys in response, he actually smiled at her, made a small bow, and said, “Thanks.”

“No problem. Besides, Lew can drive me,” Buffy said, turning back to Llewellyn. Right before the thief opened the door, Buffy turned towards him once more.

“Oh, and Crevan?” she asked sweetly.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. Buffy’s expression turned dark.

“I really, really, like that car. If there is one scratch on it, I will have your head for breakfast.” Smiling once again, she continued on a friendly tone, “Enjoy the trip.”

Crevan stood there, looking at the blonde Slayer, for what must have been close to ten seconds. He raised the keys, dangling from the key-chain wrapped around his index finger. “I’ll take good care of her,” the ninja promised. After he closed the door, he shook his head, and thought, Llewellyn has got to stop teach her those emotion-control techniques. That girl is deadly … and I have no way of knowing if she’s kidding or not!

He buried the thought, and went to tell Amy and Willow the good news.

 

“I’m going dancing,” Esmeralda decided after the threesome had left.

“You wouldn’t happen to need a manly dancing-partner, would you?” Xander asked.

The sorceress shrugged. “Never needed one before,” she said. Turning to look him in the eye, she continued, “Why? Are you offering?”

“Well …” Xander replied, making the ‘puppy-dog eyes’ at her.

Esmeralda smiled. “That trick never worked on me, Cutie. I don’t fall for the puppy-dog look.”

Xander’s face fell. “I thought so …” he said, dejectedly.

The sorceress crossed her arms, and looked at the teen. “You know, you really should learn to ask properly before doing trying the guilt-trip,” she said. When he looked confused at her, she explained, “You never asked to come.”

“Can I come?” the teenager asked.

“Sure you can,” the sorceress answered, hooking her arm through his. “Cute company is hard to find, you know.”

Xander was flabbergasted. He was still flabbergasted when they materialized in front of a dancing club, probably somewhere in Europe, giving the fact that it was night.

The sorceress snapped her fingers. The red leather outfit was replaced with the white leather outfit Xander had seen her wear when they had gone to the bar some time ago. She snapped again. The ball gown appeared. “I really need to put that were it belongs,” the sorceress whispered, snapping her fingers again. A swimsuit appeared. Actually, the suit was nothing more than some straps with some assorted material at strategic locations. She hurriedly snapped her fingers again, to get out of the flimsy garment, out of the cold winter night. Getting rather testy now, she snapped her fingers. A normal dress appeared, bright red, and reaching down to her knees.

“There. Now I’m dressed. Let’s see about you …” the sorceress said, looking at her companion, who was still drooling over the imagine of the beautiful woman in the ‘swimsuit’. “Cutie …”

“Huh?” he asked dumb.

“Close your mouth. You’re drooling,” Esmeralda said. His mouth snapped shut audibly.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He expected her to get angry at him for ogling her. To his surprise, she smiled widely, and cupped his cheek. She kissed him. On the lips.

“Glad to see I still have some looks after 250 years,” the sorceress said.

“Oh, yeah,” Xander replied. “And what looks they are.”

She smiled again. And kissed him again. “Thanks,” she said. “Now, let’s see about some threads for you, k?”

“Okay …” Xander replied, breathless. She looked him over, and clapped her hands. His body suddenly felt the effects of new clothes being materialized. He looked down. Black shirt. Black jeans. Black shoes.

“You look good,” Esmeralda said, smiling wide. “Maybe an earring …”

“My parents would kill me,” Xander replied immediately. After one second, he added, “Nothing different there. Em, earring away!”

The sorceress looked at him with a lopsided grin. She held her hand out horizontally. A ring flashed into existence into it. It was a small gold earring, nothing obtrusive. “Like it?” she asked.

“That … Is that real gold?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied. “I don’t conjure up fakes, you know,” her voice faking hurt. The twinkle in, her eyes told him she was just joking.

“Yeah, I like,” he replied.

“Right, left, or both?” she asked. “I wouldn’t go with both. Both ears are for women.”

“Uh …” Xander replied. “What do you think?”

“Good answer,” the sorceress replied with a lopsided grin. “Let’s go with right. We can always change. Now, you might feel a little pinch. I need to pierce your ear.”

Xander nodded. The next moment, the ring flashed out of existence. He felt a little tingle at his right ear. Instinctively, he raised his hand. Yep, there it was: a small, unobtrusive gold ring. It was there, but unobtrusive, a small piece of art.

“Now, let’s go inside, Handsome,” Esmeralda said, hooking her arm through his.

“Of course, beautiful,” he replied. Huh? Where did I get the nerve to say THAT? This is going to be an interesting evening …day …whatever! Man, I hate these time-shifts.

“Sweet-talker,” the sorceress muttered. The duo waked up to the entrance. A bouncer stopped them.

“Emmy!” the bouncer greeted the sorceress, in English. Xander looked at the man. He was tall, well built, dressed in an all-jeans outfit … and very obviously capable of hurting someone. What’s with everyone calling her Emmy? He asked himself silently.

“Tom, good to see you!” she replied.

“Who’s your friend?” the bouncer asked, in a slightly accented English.

“Tom, meet Xander. Xander, Tom,” the sorceress introduced. To his surprise, the bouncer grabbed Xander’s hand, and shook it forcefully.

“A friend of Emmy’s a friend of mine,” the bouncer greeted the boy. “Go on in, and enjoy yourselves!”

“Thanks, Tom,” Esmeralda replied, guiding a shocked Xander inside.

The duo emerged into a large room, with flashing laser lights and loud music. A couple dozen young people were dancing off to one side, where the other side held some tables, and a bar. A staircase led up to a second floor, where the music was less intense, and easy conversation could be held. This is where Esmeralda guided them.

“Let’s get acclimatized first,” the sorceress said, sitting down at one of the sparsely found empty tables. She pulled a packet of cigarettes from her dress, and lit one.

“Doesn’t smoking kill you?” Xander asked.

“Immortal,” Esmeralda whispered back. “Cancer doesn’t get foot on land with us. Addiction: ditto. We can enjoy all the drugs we want, without ever getting addicted.”

“Cool,” Xander whispered. Putting out his hand, he asked, “Could I try one?”

Shrugging, Esmeralda held out the package. Xander pulled out a cigarette, and Esmeralda lit it for him. By cupping her hands, she hid the fact that it was her thumb where the small flame came out. Not knowing what to do, Xander took a drag, and immediately started coughing, bluish-gray smoke coming out of his mouth and nostrils.

“Strong,” he coughed.

“I always take extra-strong,” the sorceress apologized. “Don’t worry. Try a second drag.”

The teen looked at his companion with a ‘are you nuts’ expression. “Trust me,” she added. Xander looked dubiously at the cigarette, dangling between his fingers. He put it to his lips, and took a careful drag. The smoke filled his lungs, yet didn’t seem to affect him much, except the fact that he felt relaxed within seconds after taking the drag.

“That’s the nicotine,” the sorceress explained. “Now, I’ll get a drink. Want something?”

“Uh … drugs don’t affect us …”

“Alcohol’s the same way. No addiction, but you can and will get drunk. Don’t worry, I can teach you a couple of tricks to get rid of drunkenness real fast, if need be,” Esmeralda answered his unasked question.

“Cool,” Xander replied. “Vodka-Martini, shaken, not stirred.” After a second, he added, “I always have wanted to say that!”

Esmeralda shrugged, and disappeared. She returned a minute or so later, with a double scotch with ice for herself, and Xander’s drink. The teen looked at the glass.

“Real booze. Drink up, Xander. It’ll put hair on your chest,” Esmeralda encouraged, taking a sip from her drink. After Xander had done so, she continued, “You know … Crevan keeps saying he’s such a bad influence. But I don’t think he’s putting Willow up to smoking and drinking.”

“And the earring,” Xander added. The two burst out laughing, Esmeralda slapping Xander on the shoulder.

“You know, you’re real fun to hang out with, Cutie. We should do this more often,” Esmeralda said, laughing.

“I am at your disposal,”’ Xander returned, laughing as well. He took another drag from his cigarette.

 

Later that evening, after Kendra had gone out for first patrol, Sam was up on her room reading in one of Llewellyn’s old journals, and Llewellyn and Buffy were playing Capoeira. Llewellyn had always enjoyed the martial art, and he was glad that Buffy enjoyed it as much as his daughter did. Since Kendra didn’t care much for it, he and Buffy kept their games for when they were in private. There was no sense in antagonizing the darker-skinned Slayer.

The music blasted from the deck, turned to its top-volume. As usual when engaged in Capoeira, Llewellyn was clad only in his white sweatpants. Buffy was dressed in a white t-shirt and light-gray sweatpants. The two players were engaged in an intense game. Buffy’s smaller frame, female sex, and her Slayer enhancements kept her well out of Llewellyn’s reach.

He swept, and she nimbly jumped over his leg while doing some acrobatic moves that brought her leg on a collision course with Llewellyn’s torso. Llewellyn bent backwards, avoiding the kick, and placed his hands on the floor. Levering himself, he disconnected his feet from the ground. Using the longer reach of his legs, Llewellyn started kicking with both his legs at Buffy, who had to dart away at top-speed to avoid being hit.

Bringing himself upright, Llewellyn once more dropped into the Ginga, the basis for the Capoeira. Buffy did the same, determined not to be overly impatient this time. She knew Llewellyn was dangerous. She knew that this time, she would wait for him to make a move. Usually, her youthful impatience won out, and she would find herself the target of some devastating attack she didn’t see coming. Not this time, Buffy told herself.

She waited. “You’re not going to move?” she asked finally.

Instead of answering, Llewellyn moved. A mid-high sideways kick was aimed for her torso. Buffy dropped under it. His leg shifted directions and came racing down at her. Buffy tried to rise and dodge the leg at the same time. She misjudged the situation completely. Much to Llewellyn’s dismay, his leg hit her square on the top of her head. His lightning reactions slowed his leg enough to save her from dying right there and then. As fast as Llewellyn was, he wasn’t superman. His leg still connected with her head, and Buffy still fell to the floor, probably seeing entire galaxies worth of stars.

“Damn!” Llewellyn cursed. “Buffy?” he asked, coming to a full stop next to his dazed charge. “Are you okay? Speak to me,” he asked.

“Pain,” the Slayer muttered.

Hugging her, Llewellyn let out his breath. “Damn, I’m sorry Buffy. I should’ve anticipated …”

Buffy slowly regained her senses. First thing she realized was that Llewellyn wasn’t even sweating that much … she could smell his cologne. Her brain made some connections. She realized she was being held in his arms. Easing her throbbing head against his bare chest, the blonde Slayer let out a sigh. She vaguely heard him apologizing.

“It’s my fault,” the Slayer muttered. “I tried …”

“I should’ve anticipated,” Llewellyn grunted. Slightly opening the hug so he could look at the Slayer, he said, “I’m just very lucky you’re Immortal… a mortal would’ve had some serious damage.”

Buffy smiled, shook her head. “I goofed. I shouldn’t have done …”

“This is stupid,” Llewellyn muttered silently. “I should have seen it coming …”

“Maybe I’m just getting better. If I did something you hadn’t thought of …” Buffy replied, smugly. Her brown eyes locked with his emerald green ones.

Llewellyn smiled. “You could look at it that way. Or, you could look at it the other way … that move was so ridiculous I didn’t even think about it.”

Buffy started pouting, before smiling. The smile slowly lessened when she gazed deep into his eyes. His expression softened as well. They moved closer together, their heads slowly tilting sideways. Lips met. Electric contact was established.

Suddenly, Llewellyn jerked his head back, his eyes wide in fear. “I … I …what am I doing?” he mutter half-loud, loud enough for Buffy to hear, though. “I … I … should be doing this! It … I …”

“Lew?” Buffy asked, her voice tiny. “You’re scaring me …”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, jumped up, and disappeared, leaving a very confused and hurt Buffy behind.

 

When she finally had the strength to get up, and walk into the living room, she was more confused than hurt. She was scared, too … She had never seen Llewellyn so scared before. She had seen him angry, she had seen him worry, but she had never seen him scared. When she entered the living room, she found him seated on the armrest of one of the leather seats, staring out through the large glass sliding door, deep into the darkness of the night.

His entire posture radiated fear, and pain… Buffy carefully approached him. “Lew?” she asked carefully.

She saw him startle. She had never seen him startle, the man seemed to have supernatural abilities for detecting others. “Buffy,” he whispered, bending his head. “I’m sorry,” he added in the same whisper, got up, and started to walk to the sliding door.

“What’s wrong? Please … tell me,” she begged.

His hand rested on the door handle. He closed his eyes. Sadness washed over his face. “I … can’t. Please … I want to, but I can’t,” he replied, pushing open the door, walking out, and closing it behind him. Buffy stared at his retreating back, soon engulfed by the blackness of the almost moonless night.

Esmeralda and Xander ported into the living room. Both had obviously had too much to drink. A lot too much to drink. The twosome held on to each other as they laughed. How Esmeralda even found the place in her state, Buffy couldn’t know.

“Something’s wrong with Lew,” she told the twosome, not knowing what good it would do. She needed to tell someone. She needed help … help to keep her from collapsing. As long as she could focus on Lew, she couldn’t focus on her own pain … the pain of being rejected, the pain of causing so much hurt in her teacher’s heart.

“Really?” Esmeralda replied, laughing. “Something’s always wrong with him,” she added.

Then, a gentle shudder went through the earth. Xander laughed harder. Esmeralda turned stoically calm so fast it scared the living hell out of Buffy. The air of casual drunkenness ceased immediately. She stood up straight. “Xander, remember that trick I taught you?” when he looked at her, and nodded lazily, she continued,” Use it. NOW.”

The icy tone of command left no room for discussion. Xander closed his eyes, and stood up straight. “Hey … aw!” he grunted.

“Hangover. It’ll pass in a couple of minutes,” the sorceress said. “What happened? I can feel some … dark magic building. And it comes from Lew.”

“It’s my fault,” Buffy said, falling in a chair, and starting to cry. “I … we … I … kissed him … and he …”

“Damn,” Esmeralda whispered. “Buffy, it’s not your fault.”

“No? It sure looks like it!” Buffy shouted through her tears. Xander sat down next to her, and put a gentle arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him.

“What happened is very simple. We all know Lew cares about you. Well, it looks like he returns your feelings. I think that he’s cracked … for 1500 years, he’s kept his feelings locked up.”

“Wha …?” Buffy asked.

A second shudder went through the ground, and Esmeralda looked out the glass door, directly towards the temple. “He’s going to raise the spirit of his dead wife … damn.” Esmeralda clapped her hands. Kendra appeared, looking around dazedly.

“Whatever happens, stay inside. You’re safe here,” the sorceress told the group. “Llewellyn’s cracked, and he’s going to do something stupid. I’m going out there.”

The sorceress opened the door, and walked out. She started to close it, when Buffy’s hand grabbed the other side, and hauled it back open. “It’s my fault,” the blonde Slayer just said, stepping out into the cool night air, and closing the door.

“I don’t have time to argue. Run with me.” As the two started running towards the temple, Esmeralda briefed the Slayer. “Whatever you do, keep silent. These rituals are very intensive. Lew won’t notice you unless you announce your presence. There will be a double circle, made with white flour. Stay inside it. That circle is our shield. No matter what you see, don’t break it, or walk outside it until we tell you, got it?”

“Got it,” the Slayer said. The two continued in mutual silence. One thinking about the magical forces she could feel blasting through the air, the other thinking about all the trouble she had caused. They arrived at the circle of stones. The circles had indeed been drawn, the whiteness almost shining in light. As the two women stepped inside, the light seemed to dim. Esmeralda whispered something. The white returned to its irradiant state.

“Lew?” Esmeralda asked, boldly stepping up to the man, who was doing something over a pot, placed between the two circles, facing the northeastern direction, while holding a sword with engraved markings on it. Where he had gotten his supplies was a mystery to Buffy, who had seen him walk out empty-handed. She also noticed that he was now dressed fully in black. Where did he get his supplies from?

And then, Llewellyn started chanting.

“Iss mass ssarati sha mushi lipshuru ruxisha limnuti!

Izizanimma ilanti rabuti shima ya dababi!

Dini dina alakti limda! Alsi ku nushi ilani mashiti!

Ia mass ssarati iss mass ssarati ba ids mass ssaratu!”

(Author’s note: don’t ask me to translate this. My Sumerian’s a little rusty, and I got this text from the Necronomicon itself. I left out enough details so no one could try these at home. J )

The Sumerian words, chanted by a grave-looking Llewellyn, sent shivers of dread running over Buffy’s spine. Even Esmeralda seemed to be affected. At the final words, Llewellyn slammed the sword halfway into the ground behind the bowl. Lightning crashed through the skies, and clouds gathered to cover the moon completely. All light went out, all except for the fire burning in the bowl.

Lighting hit the ground, sending a couple of the shielding trees flying away from the temple. Where the lighting had struck, the ground seemed to shake, and open up. A beast rose from it, growling at Llewellyn. It approached the circles, obviously intending to do all of them great bodily harm. Llewellyn pointed towards the sword.

“Watcher, I, Pa Ma-au, The Lion, command thee! Guard these circles with your life, until such a time as to when I will release thee!”

The beast dipped its head, and walked to the circles. It halted, and seemed to stand at attention, watching the every move of the threesome. Somehow, this didn’t make Buffy feel any better.

“Lew? What is going on here? You’ve summoned a Watcher? For what? What are you doing?” Esmeralda tried, anew. She already had a pretty good idea what Llewellyn was going to do, but it couldn’t hurt to get confirmation first.

“I need help,” the man simply answered. He turned to the center of the circle, and Buffy dreaded that he’d see her. He didn’t. He just stared at the center, and raised his arms.

Baad Angarru!

Ninnghizhidda!

Thee I invoke, Serpent of the Deep!

Thee I invoke, Ninnghizhidda, Horned Serpent of the Deep!

Thee I invoke, Plumed Serpent of the Deep!

Ninnghizhidda!

Open!

Open the Gate that I may enter!

Ninnghizhidda, Serpent of the Deep, Watcher of the Gate, Remember!

In the name of our Father, Enki, Before the Flight, Lord of Master of Magicians, Open the Gate that I may enter!

Open, lest I attack the Gate!

Open, lest I break down the bars!

Open, lest I attack the Walls!

Open, lest I leap over it by force!

Open the Gate, lest I cause the Dead to rise and devour the living!

Buffy shuddered at these last words. Let the dead devour the living? Was Llewellyn insane? She heard shrieking in the air, and yelped when she saw a huge harpy execute a dive-attack towards the circle. The beast known as the Watcher, raised it right hand. The harpy disintegrated as the bolt of energy that left the hand hit it. Llewellyn continued undaunted.

Open the Gate, lest I give the Dead power of the Living!

Open the Gate, lest I make the Dead to outnumber the living!

Ninnghizhidda, Spirit of the Deep, Watcher of the Gate, open!

May the dead rise and smell the incense!

The Earth shook, and a tunnel opened in the Earth, in the exact center of the circle. Shrieks of madness and howls of agony permeated the air, while vampires and demons alike were keeping the watcher busy. The circle protected it occupants, though. Every time a minion of the forces of darkness tried to enter, an invisible barrier pushed it back

 

In the house, Samantha had come downstairs after the mysterious storm had picked up. The wind howled along the house, mad spirits and undaunted vampires attacked the house shields.

The orange-glowing barriers held, yet the house’s occupants had gathered close together. Samantha, Xander, Marie, and Xavier hugged one another. Then, Kendra joined them. “This is evil magic,” the Jamaican whispered. “Voodoo, yet worse.”

Silently, the group started praying. Be it to God, the Great Mother, or One of the Jamaican Gods, the group prayed for the safety of the people outside, and for the protection of the house, and themselves.

 

Outside, Llewellyn stood before the Gate that obviously led to the afterlife. The tunnel itself had the evil spirits chained in it, and was the place known as Hell. At the end of the tunnel, a light as visible, ‘heaven’ by Christian standards. Somewhere in the madness, the Mad God sat in his Throne, sending cries of madness to the people in the world of the living.

“Ingrid Demonhunter, my wife, appear to me!” Llewellyn shouted. Almost immediately, a formless white shape left the tunnel, which closed behind it.

The druid made one final incantation, “Uuh Uduug Uugga Gishtugbi!”

The spirit shifted, forming the image of a strikingly beautiful woman, in her late thirties, early forties. This is his wife? I don’t stand a chance in hell! Buffy groaned inwardly, seeing the beautiful woman with the shiny black hair approach Llewellyn, who seemed to be in some sort of trance. Finally, he walked forward. When he was within reach, the man fell to one knee. Buffy gasped. Llewellyn took Ingrid’s hand, and kissed it.

Buffy felt tears prick in her eyes. Few kisses had ever seen as sensual and as meaningful to her as that one kiss to the hand.

“My Lady Love,” Llewellyn whispered in the Frankish language.

“My Warrior,” the spirit replied, pulling him to his feet. “It is good to see you again,” the said, smiling widely. “But you don’t retrieve someone from the dead for small talk. My Love, what has happened?”

“I … I am weak,” Llewellyn whispered, casting his eyes to the floor. “I did not have the strength to keep the vows of our marriage.”

Ingrid stared at him for a few seconds, and then gathered him in her ghostly arms. Llewellyn’s mind didn’t note that the spirit even felt warm to the touch, so far had his spell gone that Ingrid inhabited a seemingly living body. “My poor, poor Love,” she whispered. Raising his head so he looked her in the face, she said, “You should be happy, My Love. I have passed on … You should, too.”

“But …” Llewellyn whispered.

The spirit hugged him tighter. “By happy, My Love. I will always be happy, as long as you are.”

“You will?” he asked. 

Ingrid smiled. “I love you, My Love. I want you to be happy. Remember, I will always love you.”

“And I will always love you too, My Lady Love.”

Ingrid smiled. “Yes, you will … but there is one lesson you haven’t learned. A lesson that I have learned.” When Llewellyn looked confusedly at his wife, she went on, “A human being has an unlimited amount of love. Just because you love me, doesn’t mean you can’t love another just as much. And it’s the other way around, too. Just because you love someone else, doesn’t mean you don’t love me.”

“I … I …” Llewellyn whispered. Ingrid smiled at him, and planted a small kiss on his lips, before turning towards Buffy. The spirit walked towards the blonde. Buffy froze with fear. What would this spirit do to her?

Ingrid walked around Buffy, and halted in front of the blonde. “Don’t be afraid, Sister,” the spirit said in fluent English.

“Eh? Wha?” Buffy asked. Ingrid smiled.

“You are my sister. My Sister-Slayer.” The spirit looked at Llewellyn, who was walking towards them, finally having realized that Buffy was here as well. “And you have a good heart, My Sister.”

“Please … call me Buffy,” Buffy whispered. Immediately afterwards, she realized she had just had the gall to correct a spirit of someone who had been dead for 1500 years, and had powers unknown. “That … That is, if it’s not too much trouble …”

Ingrid smiled, and put a hand on Buffy’s shoulder. By now, Llewellyn stood a little to one side, not knowing whether he was welcome or not.

“You have a good heart, Buffy. You’re kind … and I can feel you care deeply for Llewellyn,” Ingrid said, and turned to Llewellyn. The spirit motioned for the Immortal to join them. “And I know you care for her as well, My Warrior. You wouldn’t have disturbed my rest otherwise.”

“I … eh …” Llewellyn stammered.

“All I ask is one favor,” Ingrid asked as much Buffy as she asked Llewellyn. They looked at the spirit. “Be happy,” she said. “Be it together or not, all I ask is that you’re happy.”

“Of course,” Llewellyn whispered, hugging Ingrid. Buffy just smiled at the spirit. Ingrid, however, didn’t seem to want the younger Slayer off so easy. Buffy found herself gathered in a deep hug by the long-dead spirit.

“Now I must go,” Ingrid said. “It has been good to see you again, My Warrior,” she told Llewellyn. Turning to Buffy, she said, “It’s been good to meet you, Buffy. I wish you all the best.”

“Thank you,” Buffy said, voice breaking. Llewellyn took a deep breath, trying to gather strength.

“Farewell, My Love,” Ingrid said, walking to the center of the circle.

Llewellyn gathered another breath. “Barra uug uduug uugga!” he said. Ingrid vanished. The assault by the forces of darkness ended as well, and the skies seemed to clear slightly. Llewellyn walked to the embedded sword, and struck the handle with his left hand. The Watcher disappeared. The skies cleared completely, letting the small amount of starlight illuminate the scene. The fire in the bowl died out at the exact same time the skies cleared.

Esmeralda thought this was not the time to point out that Llewellyn had been the most idiotic moron she had ever encountered, and that, without her strengthening of the circle, he would have been eaten. She left silently, leaving Buffy and Llewellyn to stare at one another.

Buffy looked at Llewellyn, who now seemed to very fragile that she thought he could break at any moment. He staggered over to her, falling the last part of the way. She caught him in her arms, and he immediately buried his head in her shoulder, clutching at her.

“How could you ever forgive me?” he moaned, crying in pain, relief, confusion, and fear, all at once.

Buffy closed her eyes, forcing herself not to cry. “Because you’re willing to raise the dead for me?” she whispered, tears pricking in her eyes. She hugged him tighter, small sobs escaping her lips now, despite her resolve. “She … was so nice.” Buffy said. She could feel Llewellyn’s head nod.

“She was,” he replied. “Oh, Mother, Buffy … I was so cruel …”

“It’s alright … she put us both at ease …” Buffy’s eyes opened, and she moved so she could look into Llewellyn’s eyes. “Did you wife just bless us being together?”

Llewellyn nodded, and actually smiled. “She did, didn’t she?”

 

Llewellyn sunk into his car’s seats, and keyed the engine. The powerful car shook into life, its low rumble running along Llewellyn’s spine. He pressed the CD player. Vivaldi started playing. He pressed the CD changer, again and again. Hammerfall. Beethoven. Rammstein. Mozart. When a single violin blessed his ears, Llewellyn sighed. Turning the volume up as far as he dared, Llewellyn eased the car out of the garage, and down the driveway.

His heart was beating in his throat, his palms were sweating, and adrenalin was running havoc on his digestive system. His nerves felt as if they were being touched by a cattle prod. Llewellyn closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. I haven’t had to do this in …Oh, Mother …1575 or somewhat years? Aliante, my first wife…

The car halted in front of Buffy’s house, and Llewellyn took another deep breath. “Empty the mind of all thoughts. Hear only the sound of my voice, think of nothing but the voice …” He closed his eyes. Buffy’s face flashed before his mind’s eye. His face twitched a little. Breathing rhythmically, he focused on a point in his past. He could feel his body calm down. The moment he realized it, he also remembered why he was here. The nerves picked up again.

“Damn,” he whispered. “Oh, well.” He got out of the car, and walked to the front door. Buffy wasn’t home. She and Kendra were having some endurance training with Samantha, something he had arranged. He had wanted to talk to Joyce alone. Well, he hoped they would talk, instead of fight … he really detested fighting with normal people.

He rang the doorbell. His hands, at his sides, were clutching subconsciously, the sweat in his palms a minor distraction. Over one thousand seven hundred years old, and I can’t ask a simple question, he thought. Joyce opened the door.

“Joyce,” Llewellyn said.

“Lew,” Buffy’s mother replied, stepping aside. “Come in.”

Llewellyn nodded gratefully, and followed the woman to the living room. “So, what can I do for you?” Joyce asked. They had come to some sort of understanding … but what he was about to do might endanger all this. And then … he found himself at a loss. He had no idea where to go from here. He decided on the direct approach, and gathered his courage.

“Joyce, over the last couple of weeks, I have come to a realization … Actually, we have come to a realization …”

Joyce looked confused at the Immortal. Somehow, she knew this concerned Buffy, that she was the other person in the ‘we’ Llewellyn mentioned. “Lew, you’re scaring me.”

Llewellyn took a deep breath. “Joyce, me and Buffy … we … care for one another.” He took another breath, giving Joyce some time to digest the first part. “As such, it would be an honor if you would give me your permission to court your daughter.”

Joyce’s jaw hit the ground. Her eyes went wide. She stopped breathing. She stared at Llewellyn.

“Joyce, breathe,” Llewellyn said gently. Joyce took a breath, shaking at first, before letting it swell into a deep intake of fresh, life-giving air.

“Excuse me?” she asked. Llewellyn’s face fell, and he looked at the ground.

“We … care for each other,” the Immortal whispered. “I would like your permission to court her …”

“Eh …” Joyce brought out. “I … eh … why ask me? I ... I mean, I’m flattered, of course …”

Llewellyn gave her a tiny smile. “Back where I’m from, it’s the custom for a man to ask permission from a lady’s parents before courting her,” he replied, about as evenly as he could under the circumstances. His heart was doing 200 beats a minute. Literally. He could count them. Sweat was standing in puddles in his shoes, his hands were twitching every now and then, and his nerves felt ablaze. He was scared. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt scared.

Joyce took a breath, seemingly calming down. She got up, and walked to the fireplace. She looked at a picture of herself, with her daughter. “It shows you care deeply for her by coming here,” the woman said. Closing her eyes, she gathered her thoughts. Llewellyn let her, feeling more out of his mind than he had ever felt before.

Taking a deep breath, Joyce continued, “It’s only dating,” she said. “Sure.”

“Thank you,” Llewellyn replied, his voice vibrating just a little. Joyce turned to him. “But know that, if you hurt her …”

“Get in line,” Llewellyn answered calmly, smiling gratefully at the woman.

“I’m her mother,” Joyce replied. “I take precedence.”

Llewellyn smiled broader, and chuckled. “So you do,” he replied. Getting up, he brought Joyce’s hand to his lips. “Thank you, Joyce. I will take good care of Buffy.”

Joyce smiled at him. “I’m sure you will,” she replied. “Or else …”

Llewellyn dipped his head. “Or else,” he agreed.

Some time later, Llewellyn parked his Viper, and walked upstairs to change out of his soaked clothes. Throwing them in the laundry bin, Llewellyn thought about what happened earlier. Well, it went easier than with Aliante’s parents. I had to beg for weeks before I could court her … Llewellyn smiled at the memories of the redheaded woman that had been his first wife, while changing his clothes. Ah, and now, to Buffy.

Llewellyn waited until Sam was done with her training before taking Buffy aside, to talk in private. Smiling at her, he materialized a single red rose.

Buffy beamed a smile at him, took the flower, and smelled it. She beamed a smile at him.

“So,” Llewellyn started. Buffy just nodded. Both fell silent. Buffy giggled at their insecurity, a sound that sent shivers down his spine, and set his heart ablaze. For the first time in a long, long time, Llewellyn felt romantic love again, a feeling he had missed terribly. “So,” he picked up again. “Would you take this old man out for dinner and a movie on Friday?” he asked.

Buffy smiled at him, jumping into his arms. “Sure,” she said, laughing as he spun her around. A small kiss later, the two broke apart, gazing into each other’s eyes. A second small kiss followed. The next small kiss turned into a large one.

 

That afternoon, when Crevan returned with Amy and Willow, the threesome got the shock of their lives. Well, Amy and Willow not that big, but Crevan was shocked out of his mind. He had known Llewellyn for a thousand years, and never had he seen his teacher, friend, and occasional student start a relationship.

When Esmeralda told about what had happened, when Llewellyn raised the spirit of Ingrid, Crevan just shook his head, and smiled.

“Lew, you devil … so, you’re just as human as the rest of us,” the ninja told Llewellyn. The other Immortal just shrugged.

“Anyway, I’ve got news too,” Crevan announced.

“Really?” Esmeralda asked.

“As good as ours?” Llewellyn added.

“‘Fraid not,” the ninja grunted. He pointed to Amy and Willow, who were seated ostentatiously as far away from each other as they could. “They’ve been fighting since yesterday evening. Won’t tell me what it’s about, but it did take me a thousand years worth of diplomacy to keep ‘em from killing each other.”

“Amy?” Esmeralda asked her student.

“It’s nothing,” Amy grunted, looking away.

“Tha … that’s not nothing!” Willow stuttered angrily. Amy shot Willow and angry glare.

“If someone told just what is supposed to be nothing –” Llewellyn began. He was cut off by two teenaged voices shouting “Nothing!” at the exact same time.

“I can see how that would be a problem,” Llewellyn told his student. The entire group had gathered, and silence descended over them all.

“Okay, this is getting us nowhere,” Esmeralda grunted. “Amy, you’re with me. We’ll talk in private.”

Amy just grunted something, and left with the sorceress. “Good idea,” Crevan muttered. Louder, he ordered, “Red, my room. Now.”

Willow blushed a little, unable to even look the Immortal in the eye as she got up to follow, leaving a confused group of people behind.

“I hope they talk it out,” Buffy said, echoing the sentiments of everyone present.

“I thought they were good friends,” Llewellyn said. “I wonder what caused them to behave in such a way…”

“It is adverse to morale,” Kendra supplied.

Ten minutes later, Crevan came downstairs, and sighed as he sunk into his chair. “That girl,” he grunted. “She doesn’t say a word. She just sits there, doing nothing. She won’t even look at me!”

Buffy stood up. “She’s my friend…some girl to girl talk might clear things up,” she suggested, before ascending the staircase.

 

Buffy and Esmeralda reappeared at the exact same time, looked at one another, nodded, and looked at Crevan. If he had been anyone but himself, he would have shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the two women, and he knew it. The group stared from the sorceress to the Slayer, to Crevan, and back to the sorceress.

“We need to talk,” Esmeralda told Crevan. “In private.”

Crevan raised an eyebrow, got up, and walked to the back yard, along with the sorceress. Willow shuffled in from the hall soon after, followed by Amy, who ported in. Both girls ostentatiously stayed as far away from each other as possible, Willow standing in one corner, obviously preferring to be left alone, and Amy standing on the other side, sitting in the couch, either sulking or brooding.

In the yard, Esmeralda and Buffy confronted the older Immortal.

“It looks like we have a small problem,” Esmeralda opened.

“Understatement,” Buffy grunted. Esmeralda shot the blonde a glare, and the Slayer kept quiet.

“It appears that both Willow and Amy have a…romantic interest in you,” Esmeralda told Crevan.

Crevan’s eyes opened slightly. “O…kay,” he allowed. “Suggestions?”

“Talk to them?” Buffy proposed.

“And tell them what?” Crevan asked. When Buffy didn’t reply, he continued, “Good plan.”

“I don’t see you suggesting anything,” Esmeralda grunted. “How do you feel about them, anyway?” she asked.

Crevan shrugged. “I rather like them. Hung out with them in Mexico. Will’s intelligent. I like smarts. Amy’s… Well, Amy’s the party-animal. Together, one hell of a combo. Fire flew.”

“So, you’re fond of them,” Esmeralda summarized. “Both of them.”

Crevan shrugged again. “Too bad about the argument…”

“You really should talk to them,” Esmeralda said. “If for nothing else but to stop this argument from continuing.”

“Yeah, but what do I tell them?” Crevan asked.

“Improvise,” Buffy said. “You’re supposed to have all this experience with being married.”

“Great,” the Immortal ninja muttered. “Fly by the seat of my pants. Great. You do know I’m only human, right? I’m not infallible.”

Buffy smiled sweetly, and said, “I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

Esmeralda smiled her best ‘innocent schoolgirl’ smile as well, and added, “We’ll send the girls out in a minute.”

Both Esmeralda and Buffy vanished, leaving a stunned Crevan behind. Great. I’m dead.

Willow and Amy appeared in the back yard. I am SO dead.

“Uh, girls,” he started. “I can’t say I’m not flattered … you’re both attractive, and intelligent young women …”

Willow blushed, Amy shuffled, a little uncomfortable by this scene. “But … eh … this fight has got to stop,” Crevan finished. Really great, you moron!

Both girls looked at him. “You … you … so, who’s your pick?” she asked.

Crevan blinked. That was one question he was hoping to avoid at all costs. There were a number of answers. They were all wrong. The best option would be to ask them to wait for a decade or two, but that would put serious strain on the gang, not to mention the fact that it would probably destroy the girls’ friendship with bitter rivalry.

Whatever I answer, it’s wrong. I’m so dead … oh, well. If I HAVE to die, I’ll choose to die a very happy man.

“Well, I can’t really choose,” he replied. “I mean … I like you both.” The two girls stared at him. Not noticing, he continued, “How about we three try to see if things work out?”

“You reptile!” Amy shouted. “Asshole! Bastard! Toad! I hate you!” she stomped off.

“Y … yeah. What she said,” Willow added, disappearing as well. Crevan looked after them. Okay, that went well. At least they didn’t throw anything at me.

A small cloud appeared over his head. It cut lose with a torrent of rain, soaking him to the bone within seconds. I repeat, at least they didn’t throw anything at me.

The cloud dissolved in within ten seconds, leaving a thoroughly soaked Crevan behind. He made his way inside. Everyone stared at him.

“I take it things didn’t go well?” Esmeralda asked, dry amusement in her voice at his predicament.

“You should keep a leash on those charges of yours,” Crevan returned. “Can you believe they asked me to chose between them?” he asked, ignoring his wet clothes.

“I take it you didn’t answer the question correctly,” Llewellyn said. It as only then that Crevan saw that Buffy was missing. She probably ran after the two girls, trying to patch things up.

Crevan shrugged. “Probably not.”

“So, who did you chose?” Xander asked, really wanting to hear this.

Crevan shrugged again. “Both.”

“What?” Esmeralda and Llewellyn barked at the same time.

“I suggested the both of them,” Crevan grunted. “Now, I need to go change … and find some place to hide. I have a creepy feeling that rain cloud was only the beginning.” Just as he said so, a second cloud appeared, right over his head, inside the house. This time, it also zapped a couple of lighting bolts at the Immortal.

Everybody laughed at thee stoic Immortal, who remained perfectly neutral under the torrent of rain, and the lighting bolts that zapped close to his body. No matter what, an Immortal would still die at the hands of a lighting bolt. He’d heal, of course, but it would be painful as hell.

 

Buffy had been unable to catch up to the two witches, who had teleported out as soon as their thoughts had cleared. They had ported to Esmeralda’s house, the top floor.

“How could he?” Amy asked, tears flowing form her eyes.

Willow shook her head helplessly. Then, it lifted, a crooked grin appearing on it. “How about we teach him a lesson?” she asked.

“What kind?” Amy asked, blowing her nose, and listening to her fellow witch. Somehow, the bitter fights of the last day or so didn’t matter anymore.

“A localized rainstorm,” Willow suggested. “Plenty of magic here to do it.”

Amy laughed. She and her fellow conspirator were still laughing ten minutes later, at the stoic face of Willow’s teacher after being hit with a second storm, one of the thunder variety this time.

“You know, we shouldn’t waste our breath on him,” Amy said.

“Y-yeah. W-who needs him?” Willow replied.

“Exactly,” Amy grunted, leaning in closer.

“D-definitely,” Willow added, leaning in as well. Their lips met.

Of course the two girls tried to keep their relationship hidden, but it didn’t take the others long to find out. To their surprise, everyone just seemed to accept things.

 

It was almost a week later when Amy and Willow were in the park, sitting under a tree, enjoying the view … and the company.

“You know, I can’t believe how this all started,” Amy said suddenly. “I mean, if it hadn’t been for Crevan, I wouldn’t have realized how I felt about you,” Amy said, looking lovingly at Willow. Willow nodded, smiling.

“Yeah. Me too. My feelings for you, I mean, because my feelings for me I’ve known for some time, and, and…I’m babbling again. You should stop me when I’m babbling …”

Amy did just that, and stopped Willow by kissing her on the lips. The barrage of words stopped.

“That … that was a nice way to stop me,” Willow breathed. Then, she turned serious. “But we were kinda harsh to Crevan …”

Amy’s face fell, and she nodded. “Yeah, I know. He’s not such a bad guy. I shouldn’t have said those things … think he’ll forgive me if I apologize?”

Willow stared at her girlfriend, stammered, and replied, “W-why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re supposed to be his student?” Amy asked, grinning.

“Oh. Right. Well, I … I don’t know,” Willow admitted. Suddenly, Amy started laughing.

“What?” Willow asked, piqued at Amy for just bursting out in laughter.

“I was just thinking … why we were angry with Crevan in the first place,” Amy said. “A threesome,” she giggled, causing Willow to laugh as well.

The two stopped laughing, and looked at one another. Unbeknownst to each other, both were thinking the same thing. They stared in each other’s eyes, neither daring to take the first step.

“I … I have a confession, Will,” Amy said, deciding on being the first. She needed to get this out … before it destroyed their relationship later on, and caused them both even more harm. Amy hoped Willow would understand. “I … I was really attracted to Crev … if you hadn’t come around, I probably would have …you know.”

Willow looked at Amy. “Are you still … you know?” Willow asked, subdued. She had no idea how to reply to this … this confession, so similar to her own. She only hoped at Amy’s reply.

Amy didn’t immediately reply, scared out of her mind at the response of Willow. “A little … I mean, he’s handsome, and smart, and he’s got … you know … experience.”

Willow nodded, her eyes cast down at the ground. “Me too,” the redhead admitted, followed immediately afterwards by her stuttering, “I … I mean … to Crevan, not the experience, because that would imply that I have experience, which I don’t.”

Amy smiled, and replied laughingly, ”I know what you meant, Will.”

Willow blushed, nodded, and remained quiet. The duo remained sitting in silence for a couple more minutes. “You know, if we both are still … you know … and Crevan is … you know … too, why don’t we try his suggestion?” Amy asked, immediately regretting her offer. To her surprise, Willow didn’t start yelling at her.

“Well, it’s kinky, and … and … not accepted by society as a whole … and … and …” Willow stuttered, before falling silent.

“Well, two girls in love aren’t accepted by society either,” Amy replied. “And some would call it kinky, too.”

Willow blushed even harder, her mouth opening rhythmically without producing any kind of sound. “How?” she finally managed.

Amy smiled. “The bold way? Apologize, and hope he’ll have us?”

Willow shrugged. “I … We … could try that.”

As it turned out, Crevan was more than willing to give the exotic relationship a chance. The group did look up when the new relationship came out, but, once again, it was accepted fairly quickly.

 

Cordelia’s car screeched to a halt behind an abandoned building. Her Immortal radar had stopped going off ten minutes ago. She really hoped she had lost the guy. He had come to her house, asking questions about Llewellyn and Crevan. She had refused, and he drawn a sword on her! Somehow, she managed to escape … and had been running ever since.

The Buzz hit her once more. Cordelia jumped out of her car, and hid herself in the building. The Buzz was still there. The front door was brutally kicked open. Cordelia resisted the urge to scream, and ran out the back door, around the building, and to her car. The car roared off. Again, she had avoided seeing her persecutor in the flesh.

She couldn’t remember how long she had been running, trying to make it back to California, back to those who could help her. There was no doubt in Cordelia’s mind that they would help her. They were the good guys, that’s what they did: help people. Wasn’t it?

“Illinois? I’m only in Illinois?” Cordelia grunted as she roared past a sign. She was going a little over the limit, but not enough to get her caught. She had learned soon enough that going at full speed was more trouble than it was worth. ”I was running, officer! From an Immortal who wants to cut my head off! And he wants to do that because I don’t want to give him info on some friends of mine, who are also Immortal!” Yeah, right.

She drove on, and stopped in a town called Carlyle. Checking into a motel, Cordelia found some rest. It was short-lived, as her shadow caught up with her within eight hours, hours Cordelia had spent sleeping.

Doesn’t this guy ever need sleep? The former Prom Queen asked herself as she jumped in her car … which wouldn’t start. Oh, shit …

“Hello, my dear,” a cultured bass grunted, after the door was opened gently.

Cordelia looked into the brown eyes of a rather small man, one who wouldn’t stand out if he were alone. The only not-so-average thing about him was the fact that he was holding a sword in his right hand. Cordelia didn’t know a Japanese sword from a western sword. All she knew was that this one was straight.

“So, will you tell me what I want to know?” he asked.

“No,” Cordelia grunted in return.

“OK then. In the mood for a game?” the man asked amicably.

“Not really, no. So why don’t you just go back to whatever rock you crawled out from, and see if you can’t find some decent clothes? That outfit is so out of fashion!” Cordelia replied, finding it surprising she had the gall to say that to her assailant. To her surprise, he smiled.

“Good. No begging. I like that,” he said. “Anyway, let’s handle this shall we? I, Kurt Dubois, challenge you.”

“Oh. Well, since I don’t have a sword on me, I’ll take a rain check,” Cordelia replied, trying to pull the door shut. Kurt kept it open without too much difficulty. He reached over, released the seat belt, and dragged Cordelia out of her car. It was still early, only five thirty in the morning.

“Now, we can do this is the easy way, or the hard way. I could tie you up, or you could come peacefully. There are some large strips of free land around here. We can play there.”

“Hey, isn’t it against the rules to fight with an unarmed opponent?” Cordelia retorted as she slipped a foot backwards, towards the street.

“Nope,” Kurt replied, matching her step. “But I can fight honorably. If you come peacefully, I’ll even give you a sword you can use. That is, IF you can use a sword.”

“Uh … no, thanks,” Cordelia said, turned, and started running. She was killed as Kurt threw his sword through her back, piercing her heart. Tying her up, he dumped the healing corpse in his car, and roared off, leaving a large bloodstain and an open car behind.

Cordelia opened her eyes slowly, before sitting up, only to find Kurt looking at her. “So, a coward after all. Too bad,” he said. “You’re untied. Let’s get this show on the road. One last time: will you tell me what I want to know about The Lion and The Black Fox?”

Cordelia got up, and looked around frantically. Flat lands, all around her. “Where am I? Where’s my car? I swear, daddy is going to sue you for everything you’ve got!”

“That’s a lot, baby. But, do you really think the courts will believe you?” he had gotten up as well, his sword out and ready.

“You really shouldn’t fight a lady, you know,” Cordelia tried. “It’s not polite to hit a woman. Hasn’t your mother taught you that?”

Kurt grinned. “Yep. But you hardly constitute as a lady.” He sighed. “But I’ve always had a soft spot for girls.” He threw her a sword. “Use that, girl. Defend yourself. If you can.”

Cordelia picked up the sword as if it were a shovel, and swung it back and forth. Kurt looked at her. “God, you’re really new at this,” he muttered, before stepping into his stance. Cordelia swung. Kurt ducked, cut off her hand at the wrist. Cordelia screamed, sunk to her knees, staring at the bloody stump.

“Now I’ll know anyway, girl. There can be only one,” Kurt said, swinging his sword in a downward arc. Cordelia knew what was coming. She kept staring into his eyes, however. Her eyes were still staring, yet now unseeing, when the mist started to rise, and Kurt screamed in passion and pain when Cordelia’s Quickening hit him. It was weak, didn’t contain much power. Kurt didn’t care. Another competitor removed from the game field. And, he knew all he wanted to know about Llewellyn and Crevan … more than he wanted to know. Oh, fucking shit … I am going to need a really good hideout really soon. Those two fuckers are a lot stronger than I thought. Vampires? Demons? Magic? Oh, holy shit. I so fucked up by killing that bitch …

 

A couple of weeks passed, the Sunnydale group not knowing of the horrible fate that befell Cordelia. One night, Buffy was out hunting. She had the early round, and was patrolling one of the cemeteries. She loved the solitude; it gave her time to think. Ever since there were two Slayers on the Hellmouth, and with Llewellyn’s added training, the vampire population had been decimated. Round became just a basic stroll, interrupted by maybe two or three vampires a night. Nothing serious.

Buffy rounded the corner of the mausoleum. A crunch in some bushes nearby made her jump. Llewellyn’s training had honed her innate Slayer speed to a very fine razor’s edge. Her sword appeared in one hand, a stake in her other. Buffy went to investigate.

A vampire appeared in front of her. “Gee, just one? You guys never learn, do you?” she asked sarcastically, readying to dust him. The vampire’s game face was on. To the best of Buffy’s knowledge, he smirked.

“Not just me, Slayer,” the vampire replied. Six more vampires suddenly stepped out of their hideouts. Buffy found herself surrounded by seven vampires. She started circling, sword and stake ready to take the unlife of any vampire coming within her range.

 

Duncan MacLeod was on his way home, to Seattle, when he came to a small town called Sunnydale. Since it was getting rather late, he decided to call it a night, and get himself a hotel room. If he could that was. He was driving through the town, trying to find a motel with rooms available, when he felt the Buzz. His gaze swept left and right. The source was found soon after: a blonde girl was fighting a couple of people, whose faces he couldn’t see. She was the source of the Buzz, Duncan was sure of it.

 

Buffy somersaulted over the first vampire to attack, and staked him in the back on her way down. She fell into a crouch, rolled forward, and used the momentum to get up, and stake a second vampire. In less than five seconds, the seven vampires had lost two members. Buffy put the stake back in her pocket. Putting both hands on her sword, Buffy decided to see if Llewellyn’s training with a sword was as good as everyone said it was. She ran forward, her sword going in a 180° horizontal arc, and Buffy adjusted the range of her weapon for each of her targets. Three more vampires died in a single sweep.

The Buzz hit her, and Buffy ignored it. Llewellyn and Crevan had been teaching her with their Buzz, and it was at least ten times worse than this one was. The two remaining vampires stared at the Slayer, obviously trying to decide whether or not to run.

The male leader and his female crony looked at the Slayer, then at each other, and ran, their faces returning to normal.

 

Duncan had left his car, his sword ready. The two people ran into him. “Please, mister, help us!” the man begged Duncan, who looked at the girl that was chasing them. He nodded, and pushed the couple behind him, allowing the two to run.

“I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” Duncan announced. “I can’t let you hurt those two people.”

“They’re vampires, pal,” Buffy grunted, and tried to get past him. He blocked her passage. He did lower his sword, however. He lowered it. He didn’t put it away. Duncan hadn’t lived to be four hundred years old without learning a thing or two about precaution.

“Maybe we should get you some help,” the man offered, extending his empty hand.

“Put down the sword, and leave. That’s all the help I need,” Buffy grunted. “Maybe I can still catch up to them.”

“Sorry, I can’t do that,” Duncan said, raising his sword once more. “I challenge you.”

“Hey, in case you didn’t notice, this is a cemetery. And this is holy ground. You can’t fight me here,” Buffy said.

“Over there, then,” Duncan said, motioning to the street.

“I am not going to fight you,” Buffy replied. “Now, just let me pass …”

Duncan put his sword away. “Smart move,” Buffy said, running past him. At the last possible instant, Duncan grabbed her by her clothes, and hauled her onto the street, throwing her the last couple of meters.

Buffy landed on her feet, her sword out and ready. “Alright. You want to fight? We’ll fight,” Buffy said, her voice cold and angry. Duncan raised his sword, and saluted. Buffy dipped her head. Duncan attacked with an overhead slash.

Duncan was four hundred years old, born in the Renaissance, and trained in traditional swordplay, like fencing. Swordplay in that tradition was more ritualistic than actual combat.

Buffy, on the other hand, was used to fighting vampires. Straightforward, stake-through-the-heart, chop-off-the-head fighting. She was trained by Llewellyn, born 1700 years ago, when the sword was a weapon of war, and swordplay was limited to ‘kill your opponent as fast as possible’. Buffy was a killer. Duncan was just a swordsman.

Buffy dipped under his slash, and threw her sword through his chest. Duncan watched the blade stick to the hilt through his heart. Buffy drew it just as fast as it had appeared, and shook the blood off the blade. The world went dark on Duncan. “You’re dead,” Buffy said theatrically. She stripped his vest off him, tore it to ribbons, and used the ribbons to tie the man.

Buffy knelt down, and concentrated. The vampires had disappeared off her Slayer sense. Opening her eyes, she decided to ask Llewellyn about getting her sense a little more useful in real life. The concentration part was really getting to Buffy. Hauling the man over her shoulder, she started her trek back to Llewellyn’s house.