“I wonder what happened to Cordy,” Xander asked the group. “We haven’t heard from her in some time.”

“She’s probably just busy,” Willow replied. Some of the people nodded, and then the front door opened.

“Buffy’s back soon,” Llewellyn said as he identified her Buzz. Immediately after, the group looked confused at one another. “But whose Buzz is that?”

Buffy walked in, her load still perched on her shoulder. She dumped him in a seat. “This guy attacked me, defended some vamps, and made me lose them. He challenged me,” she said, looking down at the securely tied Duncan.

Llewellyn wrapped his arms around her from behind, appearing to be not in the least concerned about the fight. “Buffy, Honey, you do know that you’re supposed to finish a fight, right?”

Buffy craned her neck, and looked at the man behind her. “Of course I do! I…I…just didn’t want to kill him…”

Duncan grunted in his gag. Crevan, who was nearest, brutally jerked it out, causing the Immortal to gasp. “Alright, pal. Talk. Why did you defend those two vampires?” the ninja barked.

“You people are crazy! There is no such thing as vampires!” Duncan cried out.

“There are no such things as Immortals either,” Llewellyn replied.

“We should kill him,” Kendra said. She turned to her follow Slayer. “He challenged you. You defeated him. Now, you should take your prize!”

“Immortals are real!” Duncan said, shooting a fearful glance at the Jamaican.

“So are vampires,” Giles said. “bu-but what do we do with you?” he asked.

“By the way, guys, meet Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” Buffy said. “He told me that as some sort of challenge.”

“Duncan MacLeod?” Llewellyn asked. “I’ve heard of you…”

“Can I tell him who we are, or are we going to let him go?” Crevan asked.

“Kendra? Buffy?” Llewellyn asked. The two Slayers looked at their teacher. “Go out, and capture a vamp, will you?”

“That is not a Slayer’s job, Llewellyn,” Kendra replied.

“Besides, even if we did go, there haven’t been many vampires around lately. And with me dusting five of them, the two survivors,” she shot Duncan an angry look,” will have alerted the rest. They’re all going to be in hiding.”

Esmeralda smiled evilly. “I’ll go with you. Let’s go raid one of Spike’s nests.”

Buffy and Kendra looked at each other, then at the sorceress, and both smiled wickedly. “What will happen to the captured vampire?” Kendra asked. “A Slayer slays vampires. She should not capture them.”

“We’ll show Duncan that vampires are real,” Llewellyn said. “Dump some holy water on it, show it a cross, then stake it.”

“You people are nuts!” Duncan said, again, struggling against the bonds.

“A Slayer should act alone,” Kendra said, shaking her head. “I can not say I like this…”

“Well, I am NOT going to kill someone before we can talk things out!” Buffy shouted. “Vampires are one thing, but that’s a living, breathing human being. Well, kinda…” She shook her head. “Anyway, I am not going to kill someone because of a misunderstanding.”

Duncan was silent. This wasn’t a cold and callous killer. She was probably just deluded…Duncan thought he might still stand a chance. Whoever these people were, they acted by the rules of the Immortals… Buffy would be the only one to kill him.

“Very well,” Kendra agreed, reluctantly. The trio disappeared when Esmeralda clapped her hands. Duncan gaped at the place where the trio used to be.

“Magic transport,” Willow filled in. She and Amy were sitting close together. Crevan sat down in between them, with Amy to his right, and Willow to his left. Since no one in the group seemed to have any problems, the two witches were leaning against the Immortal, who had his arms around them. Llewellyn sat down close to Duncan so he could keep an eye on the younger Immortal.

“So,” Xander said. “You’re one of the sword-gang too, huh?” he asked Duncan. “So, you’ve been around long?”

“Four hundred years,” Duncan grunted.

“A newbie,” Llewellyn and Crevan muttered to one another. Unfortunately, they whispered the same thing at the same time. Everyone heard them. The Scooby Gang chuckled. Duncan glared at the duo.

“And how old might you be?” he asked icily.

“My name is many,” Llewellyn said. “But I am best known as Llewellyn Demonhunter. I was found in the forests of Wales, one thousand seven hundred twenty-six years ago.”

“I am Crevan Aegelmaere, found in Northern Ireland, grew up in London, and am one thousand and ten years of age.” Willow and Amy shot him an adoring look while he said that. Crevan found it only mildly uncomfortable.

“I’ve known older,” Duncan replied.

“Very likely,” Llewellyn said. “But they weren’t involved with demons and vampires for the better part of their lives. But, that doesn’t matter. Let’s wait until our vamp squad gets back.”

Silence stretched for a couple of minutes. Finally, Duncan gathered his courage, and asked, “How old was she anyway? The girl that took me out?”

“Buffy? Seventeen,” Llewellyn said with a straight face. Everyone snickered.

“She’s been Immortal for 17 years?” Duncan asked. The group snickered louder.

“No, seventeen. As in: she’s seventeen years old. Buffy has been Immortal for a little over ten months now… and I’ve been training her for about four of those months.”

Duncan’s eyes opened wide, and his jaw hit the floor. The group laughed at his expense. “You’re kidding,” he replied.

“Nope,” Crevan said.

“Buffy is the Slayer,” Llewellyn said. “But I think Giles is better at this part.”

“I-I do think you have more experience,” Giles said. Llewellyn shrugged.

“Anyway, there are vampires among us, and the Slayer is the one girl in each generation given the strength, endurance, and abilities to fight them on a one-on-one basis, empowered by the Powers that Be.”

Duncan shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you will,” Llewellyn said. “You’ll believe once they return with a real-life vampire.”

As if they had been listening in, the threesome ported back into the living room, carrying a tightly wrapped vampire. Buffy and Kendra released the ties, and hauled the vampire onto the living room table, which had been cleared the moment the threesome appeared. Duncan couldn’t believe the understanding these people had… unless this was routine, and they brought these ‘vampires’ here on a regular basis.

The man seemed normal enough to Duncan, who was being hauled up by Crevan. Duncan couldn’t believe the iron strength in the man’s grip.

“Watch,” Llewellyn said, taking a swig from a bottle marked ‘Holy Water’. He poured some on Duncan’s skin. It felt like ordinary water to Duncan.

“Want a swig?” Llewellyn asked. Duncan shook his head ‘no’. Llewellyn shrugged, and poured the remainder of the bottle onto the man’s exposed chest. It started to steam, and the man howled in pain. His face distorted as the vampire’s game face came on. Duncan struggled and gasped. “What is he?!?” Duncan barked. “What did you do?” he shouted.

“This is a vampire,” Kendra replied coolly.

Llewellyn pulled out an ordinary wooden cross. He showed it to Duncan. The Immortal watched in horror as the vampire growled, and tried to back away from the cross. Buffy and Kendra held it down on the table. The moment the cross touched his skin, it started to steam, and the demon howled. Duncan was convinced this couldn’t be anything but a demon.

Llewellyn pulled out a wooden stake, nothing more than a small round wooden pole with a sharp point. The stake entered the demon’s heart. It turned to ashes.

Duncan was as gray as the ashes of the vampire when he was seated in his seat. He didn’t feel his bounds being released. “Wha…what just happened?” he stammered.

“That was a vampire. We killed it,” Kendra said, coolly.

“Oh, Duncan, here,” Buffy said, throwing him his car keys. “It’s parked out front.”

He grabbed them, purely as a reflex. “That was a vampire?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kendra grunted. “A blood-sucking fiend. It is a demon inhabiting the body after the soul has departed.”

Duncan looked at her. “I need a drink,” he muttered. “A stiff one.”

Llewellyn smiled, poured the man a glass of genuine single malt scotch. Duncan emptied it. “Ah, man after my heart,” he said to Llewellyn, savoring the smooth taste of the whisky. Llewellyn refilled the glass.

“And now, will someone please tell me the whole story?” Duncan asked, sipping from his second drink. Everyone sat down.

“Well, this world is far older…” Llewellyn began. Everyone just knew the evening was still young.

 

Llewellyn had insisted that Duncan spend the night at his house, and the younger Immortal had accepted. The evening had gone well, taking into consideration the vast amount of knowledge Duncan had gained through the discussion.

Duncan awoke at around seven the next morning, and pulled out his cell phone. He called a friend back in Seattle, Joe Dawson. Duncan knew that Joe would be up already.

“Morning, Joe,” Duncan greeted his friend.

“Duncan? Why are you calling me this early?” Joe asked.

“I just met an interesting pair yesterday, and I need some info. A man calling himself Llewellyn Demonhunter, and another one calling himself Crevan Aegelmaere. Respectively 1700 and 1000 years old.”

The other side of the line went very quiet. Finally, a response came. “One is about 1.90 meters, has dark brown hair, and the other one is about 1.80 with lighter hair?”

“Yep. The younger one, Crevan, seems the most dangerous. So, you know about them? What can you tell me?”

“Duncan, don’t go by their appearances. Llewellyn is most definitely the most dangerous man of the two. The Watchers call him Evadinus Alumno, The Vanishing Student. The man is something like a walking repository of human knowledge. He and his student, Crevan, are legends in Watcher circles. We know almost nothing about them. Llewellyn pops up here and there. His student hasn’t been seen since he left Japan after becoming Supreme Grand Master in the Ninjutsu arts, and that was over 900 years ago.”

“There is no such thing as a Supreme Grand Master, Joe,” Duncan said, dreading the answer.

“There is only one,” Joe replied. “I’ll see what more I can dig up. That’s about all I know on the top of my head.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Duncan said, hanging up the phone.

Duncan spent most of the day with Llewellyn, who was more than happy to tell Duncan about the forces of darkness. By the time school was out, Duncan was up in his room, mulling things over. He always liked some privacy to do his thinking.

Buffy parked her car right next to Duncan’s, and came right inside. She and her friends now all had a key to the house. After all, they are all students now, and Llewellyn thought it nice for all of them to have their own key.

Buffy walked inside, to find Sam and Llewellyn in the music room, sitting side-by-side on the large couch. The girl was tucked under Llewellyn’s left arm, and the two were listening to the expensive stereo equipment Llewellyn had put into the room.

“Hi,” Buffy greeted as she fell down next to the two.

“Hello, Love,” Llewellyn replied, kissing her on the lips.

“Hi,” Sam returned. Buffy turned to the stereo.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Folk,” Llewellyn replied, easing back into the couch.

“Folk?” Buffy asked flatly. The music went down another notch or two.

“I happen to like folk. And Laïs is considered one of the best of the world, even though this is only their first album, and their voices haven’t even matured fully yet,” Llewellyn replied calmly.

“Not really my style,” Buffy said, hoping that the two would be lenient and change to something she liked better.

“It’s something of an acquired taste for you English Speakers, since it’s mostly in Dutch,” Llewellyn said. Buffy made a face at the ‘English speakers’ part. “Here, listen to this.” The remote to the CD player appeared in his hand, and he aimed it at the stereo. The song changed. The first note bombarded Buffy’s eardrums. And it was just singing. A single girl’s voice sang a capella, and in English. Buffy remembered a certain time when she found Llewellyn playing his flute, and thought of the fact that this seemed to bring up the same kind of emotions.

Stunned, she started listening to the text. A second voice, then a third… Buffy had never thought that just singing could bring this kind of reaction from her. As a normal teenager, Buffy liked listening to the eclectic collection of beat of technological sounds. Simple singing couldn’t be fun, Buffy thought. But then, why am I enjoying this?

In this heart lies for you
A lark born only for you
Who sings only to you
My love
My love
My love

I am waiting for you
For only to adore you
My heart is for you
My love
My love
My love

This is my grief for you
For only the loss of you
The hurting of you
My love
My love
My love

There are rays on the weather
Soon these tears will have cried
All loneliness have died
My love
My love
My love

I will have you with me
In my arms only
For you are only
My love
My love
My love

 

“That was…different,” Buffy allowed carefully.

Llewellyn and Sam smiled at the blonde Slayer. “Then why didn’t you blink, or breathe, during the entire song?” the older Immortal asked.

“Okay, it’s more than different. It was…” Buffy’s voice trailed off. “I mean, it… it…”

“Indescribable,” Llewellyn supplemented.

Buffy nodded. “What else is on there?” she asked.

“Nothing in English, I’m afraid. Some Swedish, some French, some Italian, and a lot of Dutch,” Llewellyn answered. He pressed the button. The CD started playing from the first song. Buffy soon found out that you didn’t need a beating synthesizer or a screaming electric guitar to make beautiful music, as old folk songs were put on more modern-sounding arrangements, yet the music was executed with the same instruments that were in use hundreds of years ago: a guitar, and lyre, and a bass.

 

“Hey, where’s Buff?” Xander asked as the Scooby Gang, plus Duncan and Sam, had gathered in the living room of Llewellyn’s mansion. Llewellyn and Samantha exchanged a smile.

“She’s wearing holes in my Laïs CD,” Llewellyn grinned.

“Laïs?” Xander asked, exchanging confused looks with his fellow teenagers. “Who’re they?”

“Giles?” Llewellyn asked. Giles looked at the older Immortal.

“I…eh…think I know them, yet I can be reasonably sure that it is probably not the correct group,” the librarian replied.

“I think it is,” Samantha said, grinning widely. “Laïs is a trio of Belgian girls, revamping old folk songs with a more modern arrangement, yet keeping the old character in tact.”

Everyone who knew Buffy stared at Llewellyn. “Llewellyn, I have to say that I am impressed,” Giles was the first to regain enough composure to talk. “I would never have thought Buffy to enjoy real music, not just noise.”

Llewellyn smiled slightly. “Buffy just needed someone to show her the way.”

The doorbell rang. Xavier entered the room a minute later. “A Monsieur Dawson is here, Monsieur,” he addressed Llewellyn. “He claims to be a friend of Monsieur MacLeod.”

“Joe?” Duncan asked.

“Let the man in, Xavier,” Llewellyn said. After the man had left, Llewellyn turned to Duncan. “I am wondering how this ‘Joe’ knew where you were, though.”

Duncan smiled slightly. “I called him.”

“My God… it really is you!” Joe said as Xavier let him into the room. The man was in his late fifties, and sported two artificial legs. He sat down in the couch Llewellyn offered him.

“Yes, it’s us,” Llewellyn said, looking incomprehensible from Joe to Duncan, and back.

“First off, I’m Joe Dawson, head of the North American Branch of the Society of Watchers,” Joe introduced himself. He shot a look at Duncan at the response that came next. Duncan just grinned. No, he hadn’t told the group Joe’s secrets. And yes, they were out now.

Crevan smiled. Llewellyn shook his head. Esmeralda grinned evilly. The rest just looked shocked.

“More Watchers?” Xander asked.

“These watchers just watch Immortals. They don’t interfere,” Llewellyn said. “Not the Council of Watchers, who guide the Slayer, and help out wherever they can.”

“Yeah,” Crevan agreed. “They never do keep up with me. In fact, they lost track of me 900 years ago.”

“Every now and then, they find me,” Llewellyn said. “Until I finish my studying, training, or whatever, and move on. They always lose me. Master Lucious must’ve taught me too well… I blend in, and disappear.”

“Mine always seem to find themselves in London,” Esmeralda said, grinning. “Even though they could swear that they were someplace else moments before.”

“Why do you follow us?” Amy asked.

“To record what Immortals do,” Llewellyn said. “So it doesn’t get lost. Anyway, Mr. Dawson, how much do you know about us?”

Joe looked at Llewellyn. “You were born 1726 years ago, were raised as a Druid, and trained under Lucious, an 800 year-old Roman Immortal. Then, you were gone for a hundred or so years. After that, you appeared in East Frankia. You were married to a woman known as Ingrid Demonhunter… your Watcher found out what you did, and what you faced, and noted it down. Unfortunately, those old records are very damaged, and almost unreadable. But I do know some of what you face… and I also know that you’ve continued to do so, as well as keep true to your philosophy of learning.”

“What a minute!” Duncan exclaimed. “Joe, you knew about vampires?”

“Yes, Duncan, ” Joe replied. “But, be honest. You wouldn’t have believed me if I had told you.”

Duncan had to admit to the truth of that.

“Anyway, it’s getting time for the first patrol. I’ll go get Buffy,” Llewellyn said, getting up, and disappearing.

“It must be a great coincidence to find such a large group of Immortals in one place,” Joe said, looking over the group. Some of them smiled, others just looked confused.

“You must promise that none of this ever leaves this room,” Esmeralda said. At the confused yet heartfelt agreements of the two listeners, the sorceress continued, “It was an accident. You see, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse rose. In order to beat them, we used a ‘unification of abilities’ ritual to join all our abilities and all our knowledge with Buffy, who is an Immortal Slayer. Her Slayer abilities, coupled to her Immortal nature, were the logical choice as the vessel of our combined abilities.”

“An Immortal Slayer?” Joe asked, stunned. “I…I’ve never heard of such a thing…”

“It has never happened before,” Crevan said. “It’s possible only in theory… yet there she was, Buffy, the Immortal Slayer.”

“Anyway,” Esmeralda said, shooting an angry glance at Joe and Crevan for interrupting her. “We did the ritual. Buffy humiliated the Four Horsemen, and we disbanded the link. Then, something happened. I warned everyone that the ritual was very dangerous. It called upon the spirit of the First Slayer ever to supervise the ritual, so to speak. Basically, the spirit was to help our abilities join Buffy’s, as well as unlock all her Slayer abilities. Now, as we disbanded, something went wrong. Our combined Quickening must’ve overloaded the spirit, and she…eh…died, for the lack of a better word. Those of us who were not Immortal became Immortal. Fully fledged, fully activate Immortals.”

Duncan went ashen white. Joe turned red, and started choking. “Breathe. It helps,” Willow offered. “It helped me when I found out.”

The two took a deep breath. Llewellyn and Buffy returned at that moment, and both looked at Duncan and Joe. “What happened to you?” Llewellyn asked, concerned.

“They just found out how we became Immortals,” Amy replied.

“So, basically, we now have one Immortal Slayer’s Watcher, two Immortal Slayers, an immortal Sorceress, two Immortal Witches-in-training, and various Immortals,” Esmeralda said.

“It’s time for my patrol,” Buffy said, checking her sword, as well as her stakes. “I’ll be back,” she added in her best ‘Terminator’.

She kissed Llewellyn, and he asked gently, “Want some company?”

“I have some stuff to think about,” Buffy replied, shooting a pointed look at Duncan and Joe. “Can I take a rain check?” she asked sweetly.

“Sure,” Llewellyn replied, smiling, before capturing her lips once again. Buffy straightened out, said her goodbyes, and walked out the room.

The group that remained behind was locked in deep conversation for the rest of the evening. It continued even after Buffy had returned, until well after Kendra had gone on the second patrol. Even after those of the group that had school (either in a student or as a teacher capacity) went to bed, the conversation resumed. Even with Joe’s promise not to let the Watchers know, Llewellyn, Crevan, and Esmeralda avoided telling anything they didn’t want to share.

Once again, Llewellyn’s rather insistent offer of a room was accepted after the hour reached breakfast time.

 

After a very enlightening discussion with Joe about some of the information the Watcher brought with him, Duncan made his way to the back yard, where he knew Llewellyn to be located.

Llewellyn was sitting next to his daughter, who was sitting on her knees, holding some earth in her hands, and was staring at it intently. Curious, Duncan kept away, not wanting to intrude in what was obviously a training session of some sort… he could hear the coaching of the older Immortal.

“Can you feel it now, Sam?” Llewellyn asked. The girl shook her head, raven manes floating up.

“No,” she grunted. “But I will feel it!”

“Gently, Sam,” Llewellyn said. “Calm down, close your eyes. You know what I told you. Empty your mind. Don’t force it. Become nature itself. Don’t listen to its voice…be its voice.”

Samantha grunted a final time, before taking a deep breath. An almost ethereal tranquility came over her youthful face as her mind reached out, intently. Her lips twitched into a small smile. “I…I…” she whispered.

“Try not to talk,” Llewellyn whispered back.

Please? She asked the small seed. For me?

The small seed, embedded in the earth, sent back a small reply. Samantha understood! She understood what the seed was telling her! She wanted to cry out with joy. The seed was telling her it wasn’t the right season to grow. If it grew now, it was too early… the correct time was during the spring time, not during the winter. If it grew now, there wouldn’t be any fellow plants to procreate, and food was still scarce.

Please? I’ll take good care of you. You won’t be out in the cold, and you’ll have plenty of food. And then, when the time comes, I’ll put you in the back yard.

The small seed heeded to Sam’s calls, and started drawing in the youthful energies the girl offered through her hands.

Samantha’s smile widened slightly. A small bud peaked above the dirt. Duncan’s eyes went wide in amazement, and he leaned in closer. A stem appeared, pushing the bud higher. It started to open as it grew, a beautiful rose opening it petals, leaning in to ‘look’ at the girl. She opened her eyes, and was almost crying with joy.

Llewellyn was smiling widely as well. “I knew you could do it, Sam!” he replied. “Well done!”

“Tha…that’s impossible!” Duncan cried.

Samantha looked at him, still smiling widely. “No, it’s not,” she replied. “A Druid is close to nature. We can ask, and assist, nature. Now, I have to find a pot for my little friend here. I promised I’d keep her safe until it was the right time to plant in her in the yard.” Samantha got up, and disappeared.

“Her?” Duncan asked.

Llewellyn shrugged. “English is such a butch language. ‘It’ for everything that’s animal, plant, and object. When you’re like us, you can determine the gender of every creature of nature. And it’s only natural to use ‘her’ or ‘him’ afterwards,” he answered. “After all, for us, nature talks to us as any human would.”

 

Ten minutes later, Buffy appeared in the yard, and kissed Llewellyn before saying hello to Duncan.

When she saw Llewellyn starting to ask something, Buffy stopped him. “Don’t ask.”

His eyes twinkled as he replied, ”Ok. No questions about school. I can accept that. So, ready for some training?”

“Just what I need,” Buffy replied eagerly. “I need to get rid of some stress.”

“Great! You go get ready,” Llewellyn answered, and looked after Buffy as she ran back in the house.

“So, what’s today’s lesson?” Duncan asked curiously.

“Just a little brush-up on pressure points, and how to use them in combat,” Llewellyn replied. The two Immortals discussed some various fighting techniques, with Llewellyn giving Duncan some pointers on how to complement his fighting styles.

Ten minutes later, Buffy and Kendra appeared in the back yard, dressed in their weighed clothing. The first time Duncan had seen them, he had found it no surprise they beat him, given the fact that they were used to training with heavy gear.

“Oh, Buffy”, Llewellyn began. “I have something for you. I’ll be back in a second.”

“Cool,” Buffy replied, giving Llewellyn a fleeting kiss as he passed her to go inside the house. The older Immortal reappeared fifteen seconds later, extending a sword.

“Your new Slayer sword, identical to the old one,” Llewellyn identified, extending the package to his student. Buffy took it reverently, her eyes shining as she looked at her sword. She drew it.

“It is just like the old one,” Buffy whispered, the blade tumbling in her hand, her eyes following the movement of the inlaid ‘B’. Duncan stared at the sword.

“A matching set,” Llewellyn told Duncan. In answer, Kendra drew her own sword. Both Slayers immediately feel into stances, side-by-side, the ‘K’ and ‘B’ showing clearly.

“Those are real diamonds,” Duncan said.

Llewellyn nodded. “Yep. Only the very best of the very best for my students. I made those blades myself. They’re totally hand-crafted, from the blade, over the handle, the inlay, and the scabbard.”

Duncan whistled. Turning to Buffy, he asked, “Would you mind if… “

Buffy sheathed the sword, and presented the handle to Duncan in a single stroke. “Just make sure you give it back,” the blonde replied.

Duncan dipped his head. “Of course,” he replied, his hand sliding around the hilt. He drew. The sword felt lighter, yet possessed the same superb handling and balance of a grade-A+ Japanese katana. Swords like these would cost anything between fifteen and twenty thousand dollars… without polishing, handle, scabbard, or inlay.

“This is a mighty piece of work,” the Immortal admitted, making the sword tumble through his hand. “Perfect balance and handling. It is lighter, though.”

Llewellyn nodded. “Modern lightweight high-tension steel for the edge, and lightweight carbonized steel for the core. It took me a while to get the balance right with new steel. But, those swords are lighter and stronger than normal.”

“Really?” Duncan asked, impressed. “Why not just use one of the new materials? Like titanium?”

“Buffy?” Llewellyn asked, looking at the blonde Slayer. She grinned.

Buffy smiled, and turned to Duncan. “I asked the same question, Duncan. You see, titanium is lighter, and stronger, yes. It’s also more brittle. When you make a blade out of titanium, or even titanium steel alloy, the blade breaks easier than a real steel blade. You just have to know where to hit it, like a western sword, an it’ll shatter.”

Duncan dipped his head to the young Slayer. He presented the blade to Buffy, hilt first. Buffy took it, and sheathed it, in the same easy manner Duncan had come to expect from her.

“Anyway, enough fun and games,” Llewellyn said. Kendra and Buffy stood ready. “Today, recap on pressure points. In combat situations.”

Kendra remained stoic. Buffy gulped silently. “Disarm me,” Llewellyn ordered, drawing his sword. Duncan looked at the 400-year-old sword as if it were a ghost. The tiger and the dragon shouldn’t be on a Japanese sword. The Immortal shook his head. He’d ask later. 

Llewellyn was circling around Kendra, who was obviously going first. “Now, this isn’t full combat. I’ll allow for you to disarm me… but only if you use the pressure points,” the teacher said, his eyes locked with Kendra’s, following every move of her body and eyes.

Duncan had never seen anything like what happened next. The first beat of his heart, Llewellyn charged. The second beat, Kendra sidestepped. The third beat, Llewellyn’s blade changed directions to cut Kendra in half. The fourth beat, Kendra had grabbed Llewellyn’s wrist, and stabbed her index and middle fingers of her right hand at his wrist. The blade fell from Llewellyn’s hand. The fifth beat, Llewellyn changed courses, and his long left leg kicked at the Slayer’s’ legs. The sixth beat, Kendra jumped over the leg, came to a halt on the ground, and lunged for Llewellyn’s chest. On the seventh beat, she had stabbed the same two fingers at a point on his chest. The eighth beat, Llewellyn sunk to his knees.

The Immortal stabbed himself at some other place, and color returned to his face. He stood up, and retrieved his sword. “Well done,” he complimented the dark-skinned Slayer. “You didn’t stop after disarming me. Well done.”

“Thank you,” Kendra said, returning her teacher’s bow.

“Buffy?” Llewellyn said, drawing his sword. Buffy nodded stiffly, and started circling her teacher. He attacked. She dodged, rolled forward, and stabbed at his belly with fingers of both hands. Llewellyn coughed, blood coming from his mouth. Grunting, he sank to the ground. Weakly, his right hand reached up, and tapped a point on his neck. Seemingly regaining some strength, he stabbed at half a dozen points on his torso, as well as his back.

“Damn,” he grunted, getting up. “That was a hard one.” Buffy was pale as she looked at Llewellyn. Guilt was clearly visible on her face.

“I’m sorry, Lew! I didn’t mean to…I mean…I didn’t mean to hurt you so bad…”

Llewellyn turned to Buffy, smiling. “The exercise was to disarm and disable. You did both in one movement. I am impressed.”

Buffy regained some color, and returned the smile. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Llewellyn asked, surprised. “No. Why? Hurt is an essential part of training. If you didn’t feel pain, you wouldn’t advance. And if you didn’t hurt me, how would you learn to hurt your opponent?”

“That was incredible,” Duncan said. “I swear to God, I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as you!”

Buffy smiled gratefully, while Kendra just dipped her head. Duncan just accepted the signs as they were.

 

Later, the entire group had gathered in Llewellyn’s living room, as usual. It was still some time before Buffy’s first patrol, and Joe decided to repay his host with some music. Duncan retrieved Joe’s guitar from his car, and the mortal man started a low, bluezy tone.

It didn’t take long for Willow to leave the room, going outside. Amy and Crevan didn’t exchange as much as a glance when they both got up, and followed the redhead. The music stopped.

“Is something wrong?” Joe asked, concerned.

“Your music probably brought back memories of Oz,” Llewellyn said quietly. “And with Cordelia leaving… life hasn’t been easy on the Hellmouth.”

“I see,” Joe said quietly.

“As a Watcher, you’re supposed to know about other Immortal’s lives, right?” Xander asked. When Joe nodded in confirmation, the rest of the Scooby Gang had a pretty good idea where this was going. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about Cordy, would you?”

“Not from the top of my head,” Joe replied. “And even if I did… I can’t tell you. Watchers don’t interfere.”

“This wouldn’t be the first time, Joe,” Duncan grunted. “Couldn’t you just find out? She’s their friend, and they just want to know how she’s doing.”

“I can’t go around doing favors like this for every Immortal we encounter!” Joe answered. “I’m in enough trouble with the Society as it is!”

“We understand,” Llewellyn replied. “We’ll just have to wait… and hope for the best.”

Outside, Willow was sitting quietly at the edge of the pool, totally still in the windless night, the dark sky and twinkling stars reflected as if on a polished mirror. Her eyes were teary. “Oz,” she whispered, letting her head lean on her knees.

Amy and Crevan flanked her. Two arms dropped around her shoulders. “Hey,” Amy whispered.

“Are you okay?” Crevan asked.

“It’s…It’s just…the music,” Willow replied. “It reminded me of Oz…”

Crevan’s hand squeezed her shoulder. Amy leaned in against the redheaded witch.

“I know it hurts,” Crevan said, looking out over the enormous garden. “Believe me, I know. But, after a while, all you’ll be able to remember are the good times you’ve had. You’ll miss him, but it won’t hurt anymore.”

Willow remained still, sadness on her face at the memory of Oz.

Amy gladly let Crevan continue. At 1000 years of age, he was more of an expert than she was. “You’ll always have Oz, Willow. In here,” Crevan continued, putting his free hand over her heart. “And in here,” he said, tapping her forehead. “As long as you remember him, Oz will be alive. The greatest honor you can pay someone is to remember him, or her.”

Willow just nodded, fresh tears flowing over her face. She leaned in against Crevan. He put his arms around her. Amy shuffled closer, and joined in the embrace. Crevan was more than glad to extend his arms around the blonde witch. Willow was too.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you two,” Willow whispered, trying to sniff away her tears.

“Cry?” Amy replied, smiling.

Willow laughed, and playfully shoved Amy. “Oh, you!” she replied. Something seemed to click, and she pushed again. Amy lost her balance, fell backwards, and…entered the pool.

Crevan, who could have done something, hadn’t. He just laughed along with Willow. Amy’s head poked above the surface of the pool.

“You! You!” Amy grunted, lifting herself out of the bath. Water ran in torrents from her clothes, her shoes, her hair… Amy looked like a drowned chicken. She whispered something. A large cloud appeared above Willow and Crevan, who barely had the time to look up, astonished. The cloud broke. Water streamed down, soaking the duo to the bone. Now it was Amy’s turn to laugh.

Willow and Crevan looked at each other, then started laughing as well. A couple minutes later, the trio stopped laughing, and the witches made some hand signs. They dried up. Crevan didn’t.

“Girls?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Willow and Amy replied, sweetly, at the same time.

“Some drying would be nice?” he added.

Amy and Willow exchanged glances. “Maybe,” the said at the same time.

“Hey!” Crevan said, getting up. He was still smiling. He rushed the two witches. Before they could do something, Crevan had thrown them both back in the pool.

“Now dry me, or I won’t let you out,” he said, grinning evilly. Willow and Amy looked at each other, grinned, and turned to Crevan. The grin became evil.

I don’t like that smile. Now what are they up to?

The water started rising from the pool, as if pushed up by a large hand. The water fell forward, directly towards Crevan. It gently deposited Willow and Amy on the ground, while soaking Crevan once again.

“No fair using magic,” he replied, while rubbing some chlorine water out of his eyes. “Besides, with two on one, it’s even more unfair!”

“Poor baby,” Amy crooned, leaning in closer. “Did the two big, bad witches gang up on you?”

Willow went hysterical. Amy followed soon after. Crevan just looked from one to the other. What have I gotten myself into? He asked himself, starting to grin.

 

Duncan and Joe left the next day, with the entire group present to see them off. Not long after, Xavier entered the living room, where the entire group had gathered.

“Monsieur Dawson forgot a file in his bedroom, Monsieur,” Xavier said, extending the small brown file. It was small, only containing a couple pages of text. Llewellyn, curious, opened it.

His face turned white. “It…it’s about Cordy,” he whispered.

“What?” Buffy asked, shooting closer to Llewellyn. “What does it say?” she asked, trying to look over the Immortal’s shoulder.

“She’s dead,” Llewellyn grunted. The file fell from his hands, falling on the floor, open on the page in question.

“What? How?” Buffy asked, grabbing the file, her eyes shooting over the contents. “Kurt Dubois. Headhunter. Three hundred years old. Photo included in the file. Cordy’s watcher said he overheard him pressing her for information on Llewellyn and Crevan. He hasn’t been seen since, gone underground out of fear from what he learned from Cordy’s Quickening.” Buffy broke down after reading, her hands covering her face as she cried. Llewellyn hugged her close.

“I want him,” Xander said. He shot up. “Find him, and I’ll kill him!”

“We can find him,” Esmeralda whispered. “But you’re in no shape to take him on. He’s 300 years old. You’re seventeen. No match.”

Xander turned to the sorceress. “Then teach me. Teach me how to win!”

It was Llewellyn who answered. “Esmeralda can teach you, Xander. But, when the time comes, I will stand with you. I can’t interfere directly, but I can help indirectly.”

“Really? How?” Willow asked, being quiet throughout the ordeal.

“As Shaolin Shambalah Master, I am able to transfer my ki, my life-force, to others. It’s something like a limited version of the joining spell, only it transfer just strength, endurance, and energy, not abilities. You’ll be faster, stronger, and be able to hold out longer, but you won’t learn any new fighting skills,” Llewellyn explained to Xander. “But it will give you an edge Kurt won’t be expecting.”

“Thanks, man,” Xander said, gratefully. He turned to Esmeralda. “Will you help me?” he asked.

Esmeralda sighed, closed her eyes, and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll help you. I can’t say I like it, but I’ll help you. I understand what you’re going through.”

“Has everyone gone insane?” Giles asked, standing up. “We’re talking about a seventeen-year-old boy going up against an experienced warrior, who happens to be three hundred years old!”

“Kurt is a headhunter,” Llewellyn said, spitting out the word as if it were the vilest word ever devised. “Scum of the Immortal world. They stab someone through the back before taking his head. They attack new Immortals, like Cordy. Most headhunters can’t stand a real fight. What we’re going to do is teach Xander to give him one.”

“But, with the cumulated abilities of all the heads he took…” Giles tried.

“That is something else we’re going to teach Xander: how to use the Quickening to its fullest. It’s not something Immortals know. Most just block it out, repressing the knowledge and abilities of the Quickening, while only gaining strength and power. Xander will be able to use the accumulated wisdom and knowledge of the Quickening.”

“If he can take the Quickening,” Giles said, again.

“Thanks a lot, G-man,” Xander grunted, slumping in the seat next to Esmeralda.

“Giles,” Esmeralda said, getting up, and staring the man in the eyes. “Cordelia was an Immortal. Her head was taken, trying to protect us. We cannot let her offer be in vain. Xander has the right to revenge. Now, with our combined knowledge, we will be able to drill Xander to intensely that a goddamn mother-fucking navy SEAL won’t stand a fucking snowball’s chance in hell! And believe me, he will be fucking ready!” No one had ever heard the sorceress curse like that before. The goal was reached, however: Giles sunk in his chair, and the group looked determinedly at Xander.

“Very well, Mr. Harris. Since it appears I can’t stop you, I will assist in whatever way I can,” Giles said.

“Thanks, G-man,” Xander replied, shooting Giles a smile.

“Yes, well, I only hope I won’t regret making this decision,” Giles muttered.

Llewellyn released his hold on Buffy, who scooted over. The elder Immortal stood up. “That will be the last word on any negative outcome I want to hear. We’re going to train Xander, and we’re going to train him to win. And he will win. Is that understood?” he barked.

“Yes!” the group shouted back.

“Good. Then now, let’s start this training!” Llewellyn shouted.

“Yeah!” the group replied.

“First stop, my place,” Esmeralda said, getting up. “I’m going to start the advanced lessons.”

“I so want to see that,” Amy said.

“Yeah, me too!” Willow seconded, getting up along with her fellow witch.

“Fine. But that’s it. I don’t want the place to be crowded. We need peace and serenity, and too many people will disrupt the atmosphere,” Esmeralda decided. As everyone agreed, the foursome transported to Esmeralda’s house.

They appeared on the octagonal top-floor, the magic immediately rushing out to meet the three well-known people, as well as greet the newcomer the focal point didn’t know. Something was different about him, though… the magic brushed over him. The magic detected something… and ti immediately felt terribly excited. Only once every hundred years did one of them arrive!

“So this is the place,” Xander said, immediately feeling the strange and powerful viscosity of the air. It almost felt as if it were too thick to breathe. The liquid quality of the air became more intense as the magic worked its ways on him, and Xander sunk to his knees when his nerves flared up in a burning, searing pain. It felt as if his entire body was bursting into flames, and in a way, it was. Pure-white magical flames covered his body, and the three women looked scared at the boy.

Xander flopped his head into his neck as he cried out in pain, his eyes opened as wide as they could go. A white glowing haze covered his pupils.

“Shit!” Esmeralda barked. “He’s a fucking wild-mage! The magic’s erupting! Girls, triangulation positions! We need to shield him from the magic! NOW!”

Willow and Amy nodded dully, and they took their positions, the three women forming a triangle with Xander, still covered in flames and howling in pain, in the exact center. Beams of pure magic force leapt from each to the other two users. A bluish veil settled in a triangle between them. Xander’s flames started to die out.

Esmeralda grunted, and moved her one hand to the skies. The triangle became a pyramid, the bluish haze covering Xander. The flames died out, and Xander collapsed.

“There. I anchored them. That should hold for a while,” Esmeralda said, penetrating the magic-shield without problems. Willow and Amy followed suit, and soon all three were kneeling next to their friend.

“What’s a wild-mage?” Amy asked.

“A mystical creature. On average, only one wild-mage comes every hundred to hundred-twenty years. They can’t extend their lives, so they die. Most die sooner, rather than later… being a wild-mage is not a very safe occupation.”

“Why?” Willow wanted to know.

“You see, in most matters, a wild-mage is just like any other magic-user, and not even a very strong one, at that. But, a wild-mage has this … anomaly, called a wild-surge. Ten percent of every spell he casts has this surge of unpredictability. He may cast a healing spell on someone, and damage the entire group instead. Or, he may cast a single healing spell, and it surges into a mass-healing spell that repairs every bit of damage. A wild-mage is potentially stronger than even a Combat-Mage. A lowly fireball can become a major Armageddon. Very dangerous. Very unstable. A wild-mage can also call a surge at his own violation…  meaning that the next spell will surge. There’s no controlling it.”

“Wait a minute! You said a wild-mage couldn’t extend his life, and most die soon, right?” Amy asked. Esmeralda nodded. “But Xander is Immortal!”

“An Immortal wild-mage,” Esmeralda whispered. “Let’s see…we have no one, but two Immortal Slayers, and now we have an Immortal wild-mage as well.”

“Looks like it,” Willow whispered. “Bu-but what happened to Xander when he got here? And why didn’t any of us detect him before?”

“A wild-mage isn’t like any other magic-user, Will. We didn’t detect him because his abilities hadn’t emerged yet. A wild-mage only emerges the first time he comes into contact with a magical focal. Because we’re here in a focal, his abilities erupted sooner, and more violently.”

“Sooner?” Amy asked.

Esmeralda nodded. “Normally, a wild-mage doesn’t become a wild-mage until the age of twenty-five to thirty years. Xander’s seventeen, and his abilities just unlocked.”

“That’s good, right?” Willow said. “That way, he can use magic against Kurt.”

Esmeralda snorted. “And risk blowing up the entire surroundings? And, don’t forget, his spells can turn against him, too. When the spell surges, there’s no telling what it may do, and whom it may target.”

Amy and Willow winced. Xander groaned.

“Xander?” the three said at the same time.

“You okay, Cutie?” Esmeralda asked.

“Headache,” he whispered, and opened his eyes. Somehow, seeing three beautiful women look down at him triggered a response. “The afterlife isn’t so bad, seeing that the company’s great,” he added.

“Yeah, you’re fine,” Esmeralda said, pulling him up to a sitting position. “But you won’t be. Listen, Xander, we’ve just found something out about you…”

 

“He’s a what?” Llewellyn and Crevan barked at the same time.

“A wild-mage,” Esmeralda repeated. “An Immortal wild-mage.”

“Damn,” Crevan muttered.

“And for us magic-illiterates, what’s a wild-mage?” Buffy asked.

“A wild-mage is an enigma. Basically, it means that Xander’s spell have a ten percent chance of going haywire, either in the good or bad direction. Same goes for the target of those spells,” Esmeralda summarized.

 

Xander’s training continued at a feverish pace. Every day, he would be teleported to Esmeralda’s house, where Willow, Amy, and Esmeralda would school him in the use of magic. A dangerous pastime considering what could happen with each spell. This was also the reason why the spells he did cast were kept small, so a wild-surge wouldn’t be all that destructive.

His combat training was in the hands of Esmeralda, with Crevan and Llewellyn giving some pointers here and there. Since he was an Immortal, Xander’s body was able to adapt quickly to the stressing regime, and his skills, both magical and physical, improved steadily over the course of the next few weeks. Then, one day, Esmeralda brought news. She had found Kurt Dubois.

“It wasn’t easy,” Esmeralda told the group. “Since I had nothing of him, I had to scan for Cordy’s Quickening, a process that took me a while, I can assure you. Anyway, I’ve found him. He’s in Australia.”

“He ran,” Llewellyn grunted. “He got scared, and ran.”

“Am I ready?” Xander asked. “I want him. Am I ready? Can I go?”

“I wouldn’t have minded some extra training… let’s say a couple of years, but yeah, you’re as ready as you need to be, Cutie,” Esmeralda replied.

“And remember, I will be there,” Llewellyn added in. “My ki will be one with you when the time is right. Don’t worry, you’ll know when it’s there.”

Xander nodded. “Thanks.”

Buffy stood up, and walked over to her friend. She hugged him. “Good luck, Xander,” she said. “Here. You’ll need this,” she added, extending her Slayer sword. “One of the best ever made.”

Xander’s hand reverently took the sheathed sword from Buffy’s grip. “Thanks, Buff. I’ll take good care of it,” he promised.

After everyone else had wished him good luck, Xander turned to Esmeralda. “I’ll be there with you. As your teacher, I have that right. I won’t be able to interfere, but I will be there,” the sorceress said. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Xander replied, nodding bravely. The two disappeared after Esmeralda clapped her hands.

Llewellyn hugged Buffy. “I love you, you know,” he whispered in her ear. “That was a nice thing you did.”

“Hmm? What?” she asked, whispering back.

“The sword,” Llewellyn answered. “You gave your defense to Xander. You can’t give a greater gift than the use of your sword to a friend.”

Buffy smiled, and shrugged. “I just thought it would be better for him to have the sword for the fight,” Buffy replied.

Llewellyn smiled, and gently detached himself from the blonde. “I need to get ready. Please, no one disturb me… this is dangerous,” Llewellyn said. After receiving another hug, as well as a kiss from Buffy, the elder Immortal withdrew into a nearby room, which he darkened immediately, and lit some candles. He closed his eyes, and let his ki follow Xander. In the meditation state he was in, Llewellyn was totally cut of from the world, which was the reason he didn’t like using it. That, and he could only follow those he knew well, limiting its usefulness.

The big candle in front of Llewellyn flickered in the undetectable breeze that was the Immortal’s ki.

Xander and Esmeralda appeared near a house in central Australia. It was night, but the night didn’t bring cooling to the hot desert that was the Australian midlands. The two Immortals walked to the house. The Buzz hit them as soon as Xander had rung the doorbell.

The door opened. A large, beefy man stood in the doorway.

“H’llo, mate. Lost?” the man asked, friendly. His smile was inviting, and Xander realized this was Australian hospitality.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine, Kurt Dubois. They told me I could find him here,” Xander replied, on an equally friendly tone. Even though his heart was pounding in his throat, his knees felt like jell-o, and his guts were twisting in knots, Xander somehow found the strength to talk normally.

“Sure. He’s here,” the man said, and yelled over his shoulder, “Kurt! C’me here, mate! It’s a friend of yours!” 

The Buzz identified the second man as Kurt Dubois to the two Immortals. Kurt took one look at Xander, shifted his gaze like a frightened animal to Esmeralda, and ran like the wind. The man who had opened the door stared at Kurt.

“What?” he asked, flabbergasted.

“Long story,” Xander grunted, racing after the man. Suddenly, he found himself teleported. Esmeralda appeared right next to him, right in front of Kurt.

“Damn,” Kurt grunted, and turned to run to the right.

“Kurt Dubois!” Xander shouted. “I, Alexander LaVelle Harris challenge you!” Xander shouted. Kurt’s shoulders visibly sagged as he ran. His feet slowed down, finally halting. He turned.

“Damn,” he repeated. “Listen, I didn’t know, ok? I thought she was just another newbie, and I wanted some info on some rumors I had heard! I didn’t know about vampires, and demons, and the likes!”

Xander drew Buffy’s sword. “An that’s supposed to make it alright?” he asked.

“Let’s say it was unfortunate, and part our ways. I’ll never take another head, I swear! Just…let me live!”

“No,” Xander replied, stepping closer. The nervousness was forgotten for the moment. “You took Cordy’s Quickening. I want it back.”

Kurt sighed. “The next one will be Llewellyn,” he said. “I know you’re not older than 17, boy. I know everything from Cordelia’s Quickening. I can kill you. It will just be delaying the execution. The next one will be Llewellyn…”

“Wrong,” Esmeralda said. “The next one will be me. As his teacher, I have that right.”

Kurt looked from the sorceress to Xander. “You were trained by a 250-year-old magic-user?” Kurt asked. “You won’t even make me break a sweat!” he laughed. 

Xander was seething. No one insulted his teacher. He screamed. Buffy’s sword raced through the air. Kurt blocked with his straight sword.

“Pathetic,” Kurt scolded, and started a counter-offensive. Xander had lost the initiative as fast as he had gained it. He stepped back slowly, defending all the way. He knew he wasn’t fast enough. He began to realize he might not survive. For the first time did Xander realize what kind of danger the others had warned him from… people who were far older than him, and whose advise he had ignored.

After a direct thrust, making Xander raise his sword to block, Kurt kicked at Xander’s sword-hand, making the blade fly.

“O-oh,” Xander muttered, looking at the armed Immortal walked towards him. “Oh, shit.”

“Indeed,” Kurt said, grinning. He advanced slowly, savoring the look of fear in Xander’s eyes. He lunged. Xander dodged, but his belly was still cut open. The boy fell to the ground, grunting in pain. His youthful Immortality took its time to heal him.

 

In Llewellyn’s house, the Immortal was staring with unseeing eyes into the candle. He was chanting in strange Chinese dialects, his hands forming strange patterns, focusing his mind and body to release his spirit.

 

Xander rolled out of the way. Esmeralda was staring in shock at her student. He never stood a chance! Dear God, what have we done? The sorceress was teetering on the verge of emotional collapse, her mind and heart screaming at her to interfere. She should! She should save Xander’s life, even if it meant breaking the rules! People were more important than rules! Damn you, Lew! Where are you?!

 

Llewellyn gasped in a deep gulp of air, and his eyes went open as far as they could go. They were all whites, his pupils having rotated so far away they could not be seen. The flame of the thick candle in front of the Immortal seemed to explode, vaporizing the candle beneath it.

 

Xander was flat on his back, watching Kurt approach him slowly and menacingly. Xander could feel the fear rushing through his veins like molten lava, his entire body tense, his skin pale, sweat raining down his face. He was trembling.

His life flashed before his eyes. This was it. He knew this was it. But he didn’t want this to be it, damnit! He wanted to live! Xander would take the chance, and he would win!

He lifted his hand, and shouted the incantation. “Exussum!”

Kurt halted. “Wha-“ he managed. From Xander’s outstretched hand, a roaring ball of flame appeared, racing towards Kurt. In mid-flight, it happened: the wild-surge. The ball’s red color was overcome by an eerie white glow, and the simple fireball became a raging inferno. Unfortunately, with the adding of four levels to the ball, it also changed targets. A nearby bush was atomized under the magical powers.

Kurt stared at the bush. “Damn,” he whispered. “You’re a fucking mage!” he shouted at Xander, and he lifted his sword once again. This time, there would be no mercy. Kurt raced towards Xander, determined not to give him the chance to cast another spell.

Xander felt something explode inside him, a roaring fire of power that fueled his body and his mind. He rolled out of the way, under Kurt’s advancing blade, and kept rolling with ever-increasing speeds. Suddenly, he launched himself into the air, still rolling along his length-axis, grabbing the sword of the ground with one outstretched hand, and landed on his feet, facing Kurt.

“You shouldn’t play with your food!” Xander snarled, seething with anger. The wound on his belly had closed and disappeared within seconds. Llewellyn had joined him, and Xander knew it. He ran towards Kurt, blade ready. He attacked. Kurt countered. Xander had retaken the initiative.

An overhead slash, which Kurt blocked, was coupled to a knee-kick to the groin, which made the other Immortal double over. “Oh, and one more thing: I fight dirty,” Xander said, tornado-kicking Kurt’s face.

The older Immortal was blasted sideways. Five meters further, had crashed into the ground. “Flying, yeah. Landing, no,” Xander quipped, jumping towards his opponent, preparing to take Kurt’s head.

Kurt rolled away, allowing himself the time needed to heal. His sword rose, and he blocked a couple more of Xander’s furious slashes.

“How do you do that?” Kurt barked out during one of the rare breathing stops he had.

“Secret,” Xander said, charging once again. Kurt blocked.

If it were luck, or something else, Xander would never know. Somehow, the two swords met with the precisely correct angle. The strong western blade shattered as if it were made of glass, and Kurt stared at the little bit of blade that remained on the hilt.

“Damn,” Kurt grunted. It was the last word he ever uttered as Xander’s sword severed his head from his neck the next moment.

Mist rose from the corpse, and Xander held Buffy’s sword up into the air. He screamed when the first blot hit him, the Quickening of dozens of Immortals entering him. He had sunk to his knees, his eyes not seeing the explosions the freakish ground-based thunderstorm caused.

Finally, it was over. Xander lowered the sword, and somehow found the strength to sheath it. Then, he fell sideways, unconscious.

 

Llewellyn’s eyes returned to normal. He gasped, coughing up small jets of blood. He grunted, and collapsed into a panting heap. His ki had left his body for a long time, and it had fought a bloody battle. His body hadn’t fared well under such treatment. “Now I know why I don’t like doing it,” Llewellyn grunted, before closing his eyes, allowing his body to sleep.

Esmeralda and the recovering Xander ported back into Llewellyn’s living room. Just seeing him alive told the people of the outcome, and they were ecstatic.

“Thanks for the loan, Buff,” Xander said gratefully, extending the Slayer’s sword. “It came in handy… that guy’s sword broke without problems. Once Lew joined me, that is. Where is he, anyway?”

“Yeah, I was just wondering the same thing,” Buffy plied, walking quietly to the room Llewellyn was in. she opened the door, and saw him lying there. She rushed to his side. Asleep. Buffy sighed in relief. “He’s just sleeping!” she yelled to the people who had remained outside. Buffy’s trained Slayer-body came in handy when she picked up the big man without any hint of trouble.

“I’m going to put him in bed,” Buffy told the group when she emerged, and proceeded to walk up the stairs with her load. The group, put at ease that Llewellyn was alright, returned to the living room.

“I can tell you, if Llewellyn feels only half of what I felt when he helped me, I don’t know how he contains himself,” Xander said. 

“It is more likely that Llewellyn normally feels even stronger,” Crevan said. “His ki had to travel to the other side of the earth before it could help you. That’s probably why he’s sleeping now. This technique wasn’t meant to be used over such extreme distances.”

“Damn,” Xander whispered. “Anyway, it was massive. I was almost gone, and then… boom! I whipped Kurt’s ass!”

“That’s an understatement. You humiliated him. He never stood a chance,” Esmeralda added. “That, and you almost gave me a heart attack… you came very close to dying, and I hope you realize that.”

“Believe me, Em. No one knows that better than I do. I was the one doing the dying, remember?”

 

Llewellyn opened his eyes. He grunted, and looked around…his bedroom? “How did I get here?” he asked himself, out loud.

“Simple. I carried you,” Buffy said, stepping into his view from somewhere. She sat down on the place next to him in the double bed.

“Ah. In that case, I thank you, Milady,” Llewellyn said courteously, grabbing her hand, and kissing the back of it.

“You’re welcome,” Buffy giggled, easing herself next to Llewellyn in the bed. “My, this is comfy.”

Llewellyn looked at her with a merry twinkle in his eyes. “You do know it’s not considered proper for a lady to be in a man’s bedroom, do you?”

Buffy turned to Llewellyn, smiling. She plastered herself against him, and kissed him. “And what if I’m feeling like doing something un-lady-like?” she questioned merrily.

“It depends on what you’re planning, love,” Llewellyn replied, kissing her.

“Right now, it depends on how you’re feeling,” Buffy said, her smile easing off a bit, looking a little concerned at the man.

“I’m feeling just fine,” Llewellyn answered, grabbing her in a hug.

“In that case, I want to use that Slayer strength of mine to rip off all your clothes, and take things from there,” Buffy grunted, hugging back.

She felt his grip stiffen, and Buffy wondered what she had done wrong. She thought he loved her? Why didn’t he want to…

“Not until we’re married, my love,” Llewellyn whispered, not quite knowing what to do: holding the hug, or look her in the face?

Buffy answered the question for him, as she broke the hug, scooted back, and looked at him. “Married?” she squeaked. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“I just did, my love,” Llewellyn answered.

“WHY?” Buffy demanded. “I thought you loved me?”

“It’s because I love you that I can’t do this,” Llewellyn replied, seemingly illogical.

“Huh? Why?” Buffy asked.

“Because,” Llewellyn replied.

“Because what?!” Buffy asked, her voice rising feverishly now.

“Just because,” Llewellyn replied, looking sad as he got up, and walked to a window. He looked out over the garden, the nature calming his raging emotions. He took a breath. The nerves feel away, and his body relaxed.

“That’s not an answer! I demand an answer!” Buffy screamed at him, jumping up from the bed. “And look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Llewellyn tuned to her. His voice was laced with sadness when he replied, “Because I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

Buffy’s next words stuck in her throat. “What?” she finally asked. “Lose me? How?”

“I love you, Buffy. I don’t know if I can go on without you. And I don’t want to run the risk of our relationship going the same way as so many others do these days… I know I am sure of my emotions. I just want to make sure that you are of yours, too. You’re still young, Buffy… I don’t want to run the risk of losing you over some hormones.”

Buffy’s face first turned pale. Then it turned red, and she advanced on the older Immortal, looking ready to tear him to pieces. Involuntarily, Llewellyn gulped.

“Don’t…you…dare!” she said in a low, throaty voice. It sounded so totally dark and so dangerous that Llewellyn’s brain registered real fear for the first time in a long time. His gut told him this was it: a make-or-break point. He could either gain her, or lose her. For Llewellyn, those options were way too far apart. “Just because you’re seventeen hundred, and I’m just seventeen, don’t you dare belittle my emotions!” Buffy screamed, standing very close to Llewellyn, and looking him directly in the eyes.

Llewellyn opened his mouth. For three agonizingly long seconds, the room was silent, except for the ticking of the old clock on the mantelpiece. Llewellyn’s mouth snapped shut again.

“I’m just scared of losing you,” Llewellyn whispered. “I’ve lost one love, and it took me 1500 years to find another. I don’t know if I can go through it again.”

Buffy took a couple of breaths. Somehow, seeing the look on Llewellyn’s face, the look of pain, the sadness, the loneliness, calmed her down. She let go of her anger. Llewellyn was right… she was young, and she had let herself be overcome. Buffy resolved to try not to let it happen again.

“Ever since you got here, you’ve been there for me,” she whispered. “For me, for my friends… when Oz…passed on, you helped me with my guilt. When Cordy left, you helped me. When we found out she died, you were there. Lew, Honey, I love you. Please, let me be there for you, too.”

Llewellyn sat down at the foot end of the king-sized bed. He patted the spot next to him. “Please,” he uttered, voice straining. Buffy sat down, looking at Llewellyn. She had no idea what was to come.

“When you’ve been alone for a millennium and a half, you tend to forget how to deal with love,” Llewellyn began. “I’m sorry.” Buffy saw a tear floating down his cheek. She kissed it away.

“I’ve got a lot to learn, too,” Buffy said. “But I love you, and I don’t want to be apart from you. Ever.”

“I don’t want to be apart from you either,” Llewellyn replied, easing himself back on the bed. Buffy looked at him. When he smiled, and invited her to join him, she did. Buffy looked at her love.

“There’s so much we don’t know of each other,” Llewellyn said, dropping his head on the pillow, staring directly at the ceiling. “That’s what I fear most of all… that we don’t know each other, and that something…will drive us apart later on.”

Buffy ease closer to Llewellyn, and put her head on his chest. “Then tell me,” she whispered. “I promise, I won’t let it affect me…us.”

Llewellyn took a breath. “How I wish that were…” he began.

“Don’t start,” Buffy said, half-angrily staring at him. The smile on her face betrayed her. Llewellyn gave a small smile in return.

Another breath, and Llewellyn closed his eyes, obviously looking at the mental movie that played before his mind’s eye. “I was born 1726 years ago, and found by a Druid named Bran. Bran was a good man, a Druid in every fiber of his being. For eighteen years, he was my teacher, my guide, my father…my everything. From him, I learned the Druid ways. You probably know that the Celtic Druids didn’t use writings?” Buffy shook her head. “Well, they didn’t. All the stories to tell around the campfires, all the rituals to do for this festival, or for that disease, the potions, everything, had to be memorized. A Druid learned everything by heart. And I loved learned from Bran. He was a master at telling stories, and he had the knack to make everything seem to come alive.

“Anyway, after those eighteen years, I met Master Lucious. Lucious was the first Immortal teacher I had. He was 800 years old, born in the first days of Rome, when it was still a fledgling empire. Lucious had been taught by Cetihotep, a 3000-year-old Immortal sorcerer of immense power. That’s how I know those Egyptian spells of healing, and stuff. Anyway, Lucious taught me for the next two years what it was to be an Immortal. He taught me how he saw the Game, a sham, and how he saw life, as a way of gathering information. Lucious taught me how to disappear, how to find teachers, and so on. After two years, I became Immortal. I died the first time, at the sword of Master Lucious.”

Buffy winced. “He killed you?”

“He set me free,” Llewellyn chuckled. “It was my time. I had decided that it was my time to become Immortal. You see, back in those days, you were at your best at around twenty. So, Master Lucious set me free. For the next hundred or so years, we traveled the world. We visited Asia, and went as far as Southeast Asia. We were as close as Crevan and I are. Then, after those hundred years, we went our separate ways. I settled down, and married for the first time. Aliante. A redheaded fury, ideal for my Immortal temperament. I thought I was in love with her. I was attracted to her, but I didn’t love her as deeply as I would later love Ingrid, and you. Anyway, one evening I was at the pub, boozing with a couple of mortal friend I had in the village.

“When I returned home, I found it sacked. A neighbor told me about a gang of men entering the house, and kidnapping my wife. The poor man was sick, so he couldn’t do anything to help. I gathered my sword, and tracked them. For days, I followed them, until I came to a cave. I just knew they were there. I barged in, started chopping up the men responsible. Imagine my surprise when I stabbed them through the heart, and they just came back.”

“Oh my God,” Buffy whispered. “They were vampires, weren’t they?” She was hanging from his lips.

“I didn’t know that at the time. But, as Immortal, I had one advantage. I was trained to aim for the head. So I did. And the men turned to dust after doing so. And then…then I found my wife, seemingly all right. We hugged… and she felt cold as stone.”

“They turned her,” Buffy whispered, tears lining her eyes.

Llewellyn whispered sadly. “They turned her. Aliante’s beautiful face turned into the demon’s visage… I tried to talk to her…but I…I…”

“You can skip that part,” Buffy whispered sadly. “I know what happened.”

“I killed her,” Llewellyn ended. “Cut off her head. She turned to dust. Half-mad with grief and guilt, I returned to see Master Lucious. Maybe he could help. I found him. Decapitated.”

Buffy’s tears were flowing now. Llewellyn’s voice was wavering, laced with grief, but strong enough to continue. “For a week I sat there, with the body of my master, not knowing what to do. I remembered what he had told me…about Cetihotep being hunted down by a headhunter, stabbed through the back, and killed. Only then, after a week of grief, did I have the courage, and the presence of mind, to check. He had been stabbed through the back.”

“That’s why you hate headhunters,” Buffy whispered. She turned to face him, and hugged him. “I’m so sorry, Lew.”

“I went after the bastard, just like Master Lucious had gone after the guy who had killed Cetihotep. I found him. Or rather, her.”

“A woman?” Buffy whispered. Llewellyn nodded.

“We fought. I didn’t have much experience. She was nearly a thousand at the time. She held every ace. Except one. I was a Druid. Vines trapped her feet. She was distracted, and I got a hit in. I tied her up using the vines, took away her sword, and allowed her to rise.

“Now how does it feel to be at the mercy of a cheating ass?” I asked her. She didn’t reply. I took her head. I found Master Lucious’ Quickening. And Cetihotep’s. And countless others. I had found knowledge, but my grief and guilt returned now that I had completed my initial objective. So, I began wandering the European plains. Rome had fallen, and for fifty years I wandered around, half-mad with grief and guilt, looking for answers. And then…then I found Ingrid.”

 

Samantha passed by her father’s bedroom door on her way to her own room. She heard him talk, too quietly to make out what he was saying, yet loud enough for her to hear that something was amiss. Concerned, she put her ear to the keyhole, closed her eyes, and focused. Her hearing increased in sensitivity, to the point where she could hear as clearly as if she were in the room.

She only picked up a couple of sentences. Rome had fallen, and for fifty years I wandered around, half-mad with grief and guilt, looking for answers. And then… then I found Ingrid.

Samantha’s eyes flew open, and her body jerked back from the door, as if the door had suddenly become electrified. Pale, she went back downstairs, where the group was still talking about this or other stuff.

“What’s wrong, Squirt?” Crevan asked, seeing the paleness of her face.  Samantha fell in a seat.

“They’re talking,” she said. “Dad and Buffy.”

Crevan raised an eyebrow. “And the problem is…” he started.

“What they’re talking about,” Samantha finished. “Dad is telling Buffy about his life.”

The group didn’t seem to find that disconcerting. Except for Crevan and Esmeralda. “You mean…” Crevan began.

“Everything,” Samantha replied. “I was going to my room, and I heard them talking… Dad’s voice was so…sad. And then I listened in. And I heard him telling Buffy about wandering for fifty years, and finding Ingrid.”

“In other words, he’s doing something he’s only sporadically done before. It took me fifty years before I found out the full story, and that was almost a thousand years ago,” Crevan said, as much for the benefit of the group as for the statement.

“I was never a student. I only heard bits and pieces, and the never from him,” Esmeralda grunted.

“I am a student, and his daughter, and I don’t know the full story either,” Samantha said, sinking in her chair.

“Looks like it’s getting serious. I wouldn’t be surprised if those two stayed together,” Crevan said. Everyone else was silent, now that the implications sank in.

 

“Then, one day… after twenty-three years, four months and three days of marriage, Ingrid…passed on,” Llewellyn said, burying his face in one hand as he sobbed for his long lost love. “We…we were fighting a group of vampires and…and they got her…”

Buffy hugged Llewellyn, not really knowing what to say, so she just kept quiet. She hugged Llewellyn, just letting him know that she was here. He hugged her back, buried his face in her shoulder-long blonde hair, crying like a child. “I…I saw her die,” he cried. “I’ll … never forget … that look in her eyes when that bastard drained her…”

“Oh, Honey,” Buffy whispered, stroking his dark manes.

“She…she taught me everything I needed on fighting vampires,” he continued. “I promised her. I vowed on the blood in my veins that I would fight on, destroy any vampire that crossed my path. I vowed to help any Slayer I encountered, to train myself to become better…”

Buffy’s mind flashed back to where she was standing, overhearing him play for his long-dead wife, the blood, the talk in the Frankish language. The old stone… it all made sense. “The old stone in the temple?” she asked.

Llewellyn nodded in her shoulder. “The burial marker. I removed it from its position over eleven hundred years ago… the world was going through a lot of changes, and I didn’t want to run the risk of losing it. Ingrid’s grave has remained undisturbed ever since, the marker providing the physical connection.”

“It’s still there?” Buffy asked. “Ingrid’s grave?”

Llewellyn nodded again, his sobs slowly dying down. “Last time I was there was fifty years ago, just after the second world war… I had the misfortune of being with some Jewish friends, in Germany, when Hitler came to power. I went through the entire war, first in a ghetto, later in a camp. I was emotionally and physically crippled, and Ingrid’s grave was the first place I want to, to regain my senses.”

“You’ve been through so much,” Buffy grunted, holding on to her man, afraid of letting go.

“After Ingrid…died,” Llewellyn managed, “I truly went mad. I traveled east; researching every bit of black occult knowledge I could get my hands on. I experimented… and the result was the Necronomicon…”

Llewellyn told and told, with Buffy listening to his story, to the pains and stresses of the centuries past, and she grew to like the man she was holding ever more. The strength he had displayed in overcoming not one but two periods of total insanity, his centurial ritual of walking across the desert to cleanse himself in order for it never to happen again… Buffy gained respect with each new tale Llewellyn told. She smiled and laughed with his achievements, and grieved for the loss of friends she never knew. It all took many hours.

 

Xander and Esmeralda were sitting in a ‘quiet’ corner of one of Esmeralda’s favorite bars. The music in this one was actually low enough to allow some decent conversation. Xander was staring into his Vodka-Martini. A cigarette was burning lazily in the ashtray in front of him; it’s bluish-gray smoke trail rising in ever-changing patterns.

“I killed a man,” he whispered, the realization finally sinking in. “Cut his head right off.”

“It was necessary,” Esmeralda told him, putting a comforting hand over his. “If you hadn’t, someone else would have. At least now, you’ll always have Cordelia with you, in your heart, and in your mind.”

Xander nodded slowly, taking a drag from the cigarette and inhaling deeply. He threw back the drink, and asked for another one from a passing waitress. “I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier. The man was human… was, sorta. It wasn’t some demon, or some vampire. He wasn’t a soulless creature that was sent back to Hell.”

Esmeralda shrugged. “He might’ve been. Some so-called souled creatures do far worse than a soulless creature ever could. Think about it. He was a headhunter. He went after the weak, and the defenseless. And if he could, he grabbed a stronger Quickening by stabbing someone through the back before taking a head. Llewellyn was right: headhunters are scum of the Earth, stealing the lives of others.”

“But he’s still a man!” Xander screamed. “I killed a living, breathing, human being!”

“And you’ve saved countless lives because of it! You’re not a murderer, Xander. You’re a hero. Yes, you’ll feel it for a while. Your first head never leaves you. It’s good you’re feeling something… it means you’re still on the good side. Killing is never easy, but sometimes, it’s justified. What you did was revenge Cordelia’s death. You were the closest to her of all of us… it should’ve been you.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m still feeling like shit,” Xander grunted, gulping down half his drink the moment the waitress arrived with it. He smiled gratefully at her, and the girl left once again. Xander took another drag from his cigarette.

Esmeralda gulped down some scotch. “It’ll get better,” the sorceress promised.

Xander just nodded quietly, draining his drink. The two spent the next hour talking, with Esmeralda telling about the first head she ever took, the implications of her action, and how she dealt with challenges and their aftermath. When the time came for them to leave, Xander grabbed the sorceress’ wrist, and pulled her to him.

“Thanks for being here, Em. I really needed it,” Xander told her.

“No problem, Cutie,” Esmeralda replied, cupping his cheek with her hand. Whether it was the drink, the Quickening, or a combination of both, Xander would never know. What he did know was that the next moment, he had grabbed the sorceress in a hug, and was kissing her on the lips.

He released the lip-lock. Esmeralda looked at him. “Took you long enough to get the guts to kiss me,” the sorceress said, with a merry twinkle in her eyes. “And how dare you call that a kiss?” she added, planting her fists in her sides in mock-anger.

“Well, who am I to disappoint a lady?” Xander asked, grabbing the sorceress, and kissing her deeply, passionately.

Esmeralda took in a breath of air after what must be at least a minute. “Now that is more like it!” she exclaimed. Xander just grinned goofily.

 

By now, the end of February was in view, and the group settled into a routine of training and school. Esmeralda decided to stay, now that she had a couple of students of her own, students who didn’t want to leave the group. Esmeralda soon finished with the magic training, and focused solely on Amy’s and Xander’s Immortal training.

Crevan was now seriously training Willow and Giles, and the ex-Watcher found out that his training as a Watcher was a definite asset in the grueling training session his master put him through. Willow too, found it difficult, certainly with the added mental load Crevan put on her in order to teach her how to control her berserker rage.

Llewellyn’s Immortal Slayer students continued to seem to grow with every passing training session. He continued to teach Samantha as well. Kendra still held on to her beliefs that she was first the Slayer. She still wanted Llewellyn only to finish her Slayer training, so she might return to Jamaica. Buffy, on the other hand, became even more focused in her training. Samantha had drilled her mind and body. Llewellyn had reached her heart. Where the heart, the mind, and the body united greatness was possible, and Buffy experienced this first-hand.

On a personal level, the various intricacies continued to evolve. Esmeralda and Xander’s relationship remained fiery and passionate. Buffy’s and Llewellyn remained calm, romantic, and loving. Both were quite content to have one another to talk to, certainly after Buffy had repaid Llewellyn’s troubles by telling him all about herself a couple of days later. Now, they truly knew each other’s heart and soul.

Crevan’s, Amy’s, and Willow’s relationship continued to teeter on the edge of self-destruction. Intrigue and jealousy had struck their ugly roots into the hearts of the two girls, and it took a lot of hard work to get over them. Crevan sometimes looked more like a referee than a member of a three-way relationship, and it took him all his experience to keep things together. There was no way he would give up. And finally, he succeeded. It took months of work, but Amy and Willow finally accepted that they both held equally important places in each other’s hearts, and they had grown from there.

By now, May was drawing to a close, and the Scooby Gang had settled into a nice routine. Sunnydale was about as clear of vampires as it could get, with Spike and Drusilla ran out of town months earlier. The only vampires now were the ones that continued to rise on an almost daily basis. Buffy and Kendra kept patrolling the town in two waves.

But, Sunnydale was still the Hellmouth. As such, it kept its attraction to the undead, and various other nasties, and no amount of rumors about the ‘Killer Gang from Heaven’ could keep them away. Various demons were dispatched, and various dark sorcerers were sent to Hell. Some baddies were just so out of it they didn’t know about the ‘no-undead’ zone around Sunnydale, were looking for a way to increase their reputation by ‘surviving Sunnydale for so many hours’. The record was held by a particularly nasty demon, which had survived for no less than 3 hours, twelve minutes and twenty-three seconds. Other baddies were just plain stupid.

One day, almost on the eve of June, Llewellyn’s Viper stopped in front of the house of Joyce Summers. Llewellyn soon found himself inside, drinking coffee with the woman. Over the last couple of months, he had tried to build some sort of relationship with her. Even though it sometimes was still only so-so, the two had come to an understanding. More or less.

“So, how’s Buffy doing, Lew?” Joyce asked. “She tells me so little…”

Llewellyn smiled. His almost-dreamy look wasn’t lost on Joyce either. “She’s one of the most skilled Slayers I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. At times, it looks as if she’s growing better with every training session.”

“Good to hear,” Joyce said. “And her results in school have been improving as well.”

The smile grew. “Well, with all of us helping out, Buffy’s got a lot more time to study… that, and I gave her some good tips on how to study. After a couple hundred years, you tend to be good at it,” Llewellyn joked.

“I can only thank you for that,” Joyce replied earnestly. “I have to admit, I was worrying about her results before…before you started helping her.”

“Glad to do it, Joyce. And I mean that. Buffy’s a cheerful young woman, one who has brought the joy of living back into my life. I honestly can’t tell you how much she has changed my life,” Llewellyn told the woman before taking a sip from his cup of coffee.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Lew?” Joyce asked suddenly.

Llewellyn shrugged, and replied, “It depends on the question. I can’t tell you anything Buffy has told me in confidence.”

“Have you and my daughter…you know? Slept together?” Joyce asked, and immediately apologized. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s personal… I honestly didn’t know what cam over me.”

Llewellyn put the cup down, and looked at Joyce. “It’s a fair question, Joyce. Sleep together? Yes, we did. In the same bed, even. If you’re asking we had sex, then the answer is no. I am a firm believer of marriage.”

“You shouldn’t have answered,” Joyce said, uneasily. “But, now that you did, thank you. It’s good to know that there are still decent people out there.”

Llewellyn gave a small smile. “Anyway, I came here for an entirely different reason. I wanted to show you something.”

“Really?” Joyce asked, confused. “What is it? Or is it a secret?”

“More like a surprise,” Llewellyn replied with a secretive expression on his face. “Joyce, do you trust me?”

“That’s a pretty strange question, Lew. In what way?” Joyce asked, confusion lining her voice.

“Joyce, please stand up,” Llewellyn answered her question. He got up as well, and extending his hand in invitation. Joyce didn’t really know how to react, so she took the offered hand, and let Llewellyn help her to her feet. He flipped open his cell phone, and dialed.

“It might tingle a little”, Llewellyn told Joyce, before speaking into the phone. “Alright, Em. Two for port to Vaults.” He turned back to Joyce and asked, “Ready?” she shrugged, and he turned to the phone. “Alright, Em. Port us.”

The next moment, Joyce found herself held upright by Llewellyn’s strong arms. The disorientation wore off within seconds, and he helped her to regain her balance.

“We are now in Paris, at my personal vaults,” Llewellyn said, his arms extended to encompass the hall, with door leading left and right.

“Your personal vaults?” Joyce asked, surprised.

“When you’re as old and as rich as I am, you tend to have stuff no one ever dreamed possible, Joyce. This entire complex lies under Paris, and very few people know about it.”

“You brought me here to brag?” Joyce asked sarcastically.

To her surprise, he burst out laughing. “In a way,” he replied enigmatically, and showed her to the nearest door. “The first rooms contain memories. Memories of friends, places I visited, things I did. I wanted to share some of those things with you.”

“You’ve got me intrigued. Lead the way, Lew,” Joyce said, grabbing his arm. Llewellyn, smiling at her, opened the first door. It led into a room that was lined with paintings. All of them showed Llewellyn. Llewellyn with long hair, with short hair, dressed in western combat armor, and dressed in regal looking clothes. Llewellyn dressed in the various styles through the centuries.

“I’ve always loved the arts,” Llewellyn said. “I supported a lot of painters. Too bad I have two left hands when it comes to painting. I would have loved to be able to paint like these masters did.”

“This…this…” Joyce stuttered.

“These were all gifts. Take this one, from the Van Eyck brothers, for instance. Jan and Hubert. Jan painted this near the end of his life… for the unknown donor who supported him during his early period. The same goes for all these painters. They each chose to give me a gift that came from their hearts.”

“This… is this a Van Gogh?” Joyce asked.

Llewellyn nodded. “I commissioned a painting form him once. Paid him handsomely for it, too. I never knew he had painted my portrait, until his brother Theo brought it to my attention. When I wanted to buy it, the man shoved it in my hands, said ‘a gift’, and threw the door shut. When I returned a couple days later, to pay him for it, I found out that he’d taken his own life. He botched it, sure, but he still died. Terrible loss. Even though he was unstable mentally, he was a great painter.”

“This room is a treasure trove,” Joyce sighed in admiration. “I can’t believe you knew all these people! Here, Picasso!”

Llewellyn looked around. “I don’t see it as such, Joyce. I don’t see the money modern idiots would pay for these works. I see the heart and soul of the person who painted it, the hours of hard work that went into creating these works… and the friendship in which they were given. All these people were, one way or another, friends.”

Joyce tore her gaze away from the paintings, and looked at Llewellyn. The sadness that crossed his face told her that he was telling more than the truth.

“Come on,” Llewellyn said quietly. “I’ve got more to show you.” Joyce followed her guide in silence, casting one last look at the paintings that were hanging on those ancient walls, before the door slid shut. They crossed the hall, and entered the room directly opposite the one they had just left.

“These are paintings I actually commissioned, and bought,” Llewellyn said, showing her in a room about as large as the first one, but this one had its walls filled with paintings of various sizes.

“Oh, my god,” Joyce whispered. “Rembrandt. Toulouse-Lautrec. Rubens. Van Eyck. Renoir?” Joyce asked, looking at one painting. Llewellyn nodded, and she continued, “You’ve got…four Picassos?”

“One early, one Blue Period, one Rose Period, and one later-period work. I knew him well… Pablo was a close friend,” Llewellyn whispered.

Joyce looked closely at one painting. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Hans Memling. Must’ve been around…1460-1470, I think. It’s been so long.” Llewellyn closed his eyes. A smile crossed his face. “1472,” he said. “Hans agreed to paint this secluded little spot I had found, in a forest near the castle I was staying at the time.”

“You remember that? After all that time?” Joyce asked, eyes not leaving the painting.

“The brain wasn’t meant to be immortal, Joyce. After a couple hundred years, it gets so cramped with memories, dates, places, faces, and so on, it starts to chuck out stuff. That’s why I collect paintings, and the music, and other things. They provide links to those times, bring back the memories of those times, and allow me to not forget people who meant something to me. This painting, for instance, reminded me of the castle I was staying, the lord and lady who invited me into their home, as well the Hans Memling himself. And, with association, I can bring back additional details.”

“I understand,” Joyce whispered. “This is beautiful.”

Llewellyn smiled. “Hans captured it pretty well. You should’ve been there, the early morning of May 10^th, 1472. The sun was just rising over the horizon, the birds were chirping their wake-up songs, the gentle wind was rustling through the leaves, and the brook was murmuring gently. Then you could close your eyes, and smell the smell of a thousand wild flowers opening their petals to bask in the early sunlight. No pollution the, Joyce. The air was as pure as it was fresh.”

“Damn,” Joyce whispered, unconsciously having closed her eyes to imagine the scene Llewellyn described. She opened her eyes. “That was intense,” she whispered.

Llewellyn nodded. “For us, Immortals, such flashes are as real as if we were there right now.”

“No wonder you like to keep souvenirs,” Joyce replied.

“Some Immortal prefer not to. I prefer to keep them, and remember. Anyway, there are lots of other things I should show you,” Llewellyn said, looking at the woman. Joyce reluctantly tore her gaze away from the Memling painting.

“You like that painting, don’t you?” Llewellyn asked, smiling. Joyce smiled, caught. “Do you want it?” Llewellyn offered.

“What? Lew, I can’t afford that! It’s a work that’s over 500 years old!” Joyce protested.

“I’ll make you a deal you can’t refuse. You don’t pay anything, except some space on your wall,” Llewellyn said, walking to the painting. He carefully started to lift it off its support on the wall.

“Lew, no! I can’t accept it! It’s a memory to you! It reminds you of that brook, at the morning, five hundred and something years ago!”

Llewellyn by now had the painting in his hands, and was looking at it carefully. He turned to Joyce, painting in hand. He smiled at her. “You don’t get it, do you, Joyce? I like making people happy. And I know this painting will make you happy.”

“Lew…” Joyce protested weakly.

“I’ll tell you what,” Llewellyn said, looking at the painting again. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll lend it to you.”

“A loan? For how long?” Joyce wanted to know.

“For ever,” Llewellyn replied with a straight face. “The painting will stay with you until the day you pass form this world. That way, you get to enjoy it, I get to enjoy watching you enjoy it, and you know it will be taken care of later on.”

Llewellyn had by now carefully maneuvered himself next to Joyce, so she could look at the gentle scene painted on the canvas. Joyce hugged the man.

“Thank you, Lew. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“Joyce, Joyce,” Lew said gently. “Just your simple thank you is all the thanks I need. I like making people happy, remember?” he added, smiling t her. She had taken the painting by now, and was still looking at it.

“Let’s keep it here until we’ve finished our tour,” Llewellyn told the woman. “There are still some things I would like you to see.”

“You’re right. It would be a shame if something happened to this beautiful painting,” Joyce said, gently putting it down, so it rested against the wall. Llewellyn led her out of the room, to the room next door.

This room was filled with books, precious ones. Very, very old.

“These are the old books I’ve collected,” Llewellyn said, his hand making a sweeping motion.

“My business is more paintings,” Joyce said, looking at the thick backs of the books. Llewellyn smiled, and gently drew a book from a shelf, seemingly at random.

“Exactly why I wanted to show this room to you,” the Immortal replied, and carefully opened the book. It was a typically medieval work, made my monks: it was filled with tiny works of art, sometimes filling an entire page.

“God,” Joyce whispered, accepting the book very gently. She looked at the tiny work of art, and carefully flipped the page. The parchment was still supple, yet she didn’t dare take any chances. The next page was text, yet the frame around the page was done with the same stunning grace and skill as the small paining on the previous page.

“Back then, humanity knew how to make a book,” Llewellyn said, smiling. “Some of these books are the only copies left. I have been thinking about donating them to some museum or another, but every time I start to make preparations, I hear about precious works being lost in a fire, an earthquake, or any of a dozen other reasons. So I blow the thing off. These books are way to precious to me to be lost.”

“I understand,” Joyce replied. “Believe me, I understand completely. And there would probably be awkward questions about how you got these books as well, right?” Joyce asked.

“Precisely why I need to make preparations in order to do it,” Llewellyn answered, accepting the books back from Joyce. He put it back in its place on the shelf. Joyce looked around the room, staring at the leather-bound tomes.

“Don’t worry, Joyce. No demonic works in here. The magical books are in the library. I can show them to you, if you want, but I’ll have to ask you not to touch them… at least, not without me being there. Some magical books are very touchy.”

“No, that’s alright, Lew,” Joyce replied. Seeing that they were done, Llewellyn crossed the hallway to the next room.

“Music,” Llewellyn said. “Music written for me by some of the greatest composers of all time. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Maurice Ravel. Ludwig Von Beethoven. Strauss. Well, the entire Strauss family. Georg Friedrich Handel. Johan Sebastian Bach. Gustav Holst. Modest Mussorgsky.”

“I know of some of them,” Joyce admitted.

“Well, there are some interesting things I think you know. Mozart supposedly died before he could finish his last requiem, right?”

“I take it he didn’t?” Joyce asked, smiling. Smiling as well, Llewellyn motioned for her to follow him to a cabinet. Out of it, he retrieved a thick bundle of yellowish paper, containing staves of notes.

“Joyce, meet Mozart’s last requiem, fully finished. He sent the last part to me, asking me to keep it safe. Unfortunately, he passed on, and I’ve been keeping it safe ever since. Same thing happened with this little piece of music,” Llewellyn said, leading her to a nearby cabinet. “Beethoven’s tenth symphony,” Llewellyn identified.

Joyce whistled.

When Llewellyn started to lead her out of the room, Joyce stopped him. “Listen, Lew, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you showing me all this, but be honest. Why are you showing me all this?”

Llewellyn sighed, obviously uncomfortable. His eyes darted all over the room, anywhere but Joyce. “All right, Joyce,” he finally said softly. “I’ll be honest. I had an ulterior motive.”

Joyce didn’t seem to be angry when she replied, “Which is?”

“I wanted to show you a side of me you haven’t seen. Or have seen too little, anyway. The side of me that loves music, the side that supports the arts, has traveled the world, and has seen many things. I wanted to share them with you.”

Joyce was really getting suspicious now. Her female intuition told her that something big was coming. As usual, the only problem was that she had no idea what was coming. Llewellyn, on the other hand, was scared out of his mind. His palms were sweating, and to hide the fact he hid them behind his back. Sweat was also standing in puddles in his shoes, and was running in rivets down his back. He was absolutely terrified. His mind short-circuited, and he had trouble forming the words that were coming next.

“You see, I really love your daughter…” Llewellyn continued. O-oh, Joyce’s mind screamed. Here it comes. “…and I would like your permission to ask her hand in marriage.”

Joyce felt like choking, only she found she couldn’t. “Excuse me?” she managed. Llewellyn’s heart stopped, literally, until he managed his next words.

“Will you allow me the honor of asking your daughter’s hand in marriage?” Llewellyn asked again, thinking he should phrase it diplomatically.

“I…eh…I…am flattered, Mr. Morgan, don’t think I’m not. But…eh…I really think this is private and…eh…I think you and my daughter need to decide this on your own.”

“Can I take that as a yes?” Llewellyn asked, hopefully.

Joyce looked at him. “Is that why you gave me the painting?” Joyce asked. “As a bribe?”

Llewellyn’s mouth hit the floor, and for a moment, Joyce actually thought the man would either burst out crying, have a heart attack, a nervous breakdown, or all of the above.

“No!” he brought out, shocked. “I gave that painting to you because you liked it!”

“You have to admit, Mr. Morgan, that it does looks suspicious,” Joyce added. She could see how that ‘all of the above’ option was looming closer. All the color had gone out of his face, and it was obvious that he needed every bit of his 1700 years of control not to break down right now. Somehow, Joyce didn’t really feel the need to end things right now… even though she was feeling sorry for the man. He had made her jump to conclusions. Now let him make the same mistake.

“Joyce… You know I like handing out gifts. Ever since Ingrid… It took me 1500 years to find someone to love again. After Ingrid passed… I had closed down a part of myself, a part I never realized I was missing. Not until Buffy came along… she opened my heart, made me realize what I had missed for all those years: a joy for life, a joy I had missed since Ingrid.”

Joyce blinked at the odd jump in thoughts, but didn’t let her confusion show too much.

“I see,” Joyce said.

Llewellyn sighed, and continued, “Ingrid was the light of my life. After she… passed, I went insane. The things I had seen, had to do… they all came back to me. I had lost my balance. It took me nearly three decades to straighten out, thanks to a monastery in the Himalayas. I regained my sanity, but I didn’t realize that I had really lost a part of myself: my heart. A part of my heart had closed, locked itself away from the world, and I didn’t even know it. And, for fifteen hundred years, it has been locked down. I never loved… I had friendships, and forged bounds, but I never loved. I love my daughter, but still a huge part of myself remained hidden, stayed under. And then…then I met Buffy. In a flurry of teen-slang and blonde hair, age-old shields, shields that had remained in place for a millennium and a half, broke down within months. I broke down… that one evening I realized I loved her. And then…once we started talking…I told her all about myself, and all the pain, and the fear, and the loneliness, it all came out. Those monks had saved my sanity, 1500 years ago, but Buffy saved my heart, and my soul. And it took a millennium and a half to find her.” Llewellyn finished his speech, his voice wavering.

Joyce actually saw some tears flow down his cheeks. If she had any doubts, they were gone now. The man in front of her loved Buffy with every bit of his heart and soul, and he would go to the depths of hell itself for her. Joyce sniffed, and fished for her handkerchief. She dried the tears she didn’t even know were there, and blew her nose. She didn’t know how to phrase things.

“You can take it as a yes,” Joyce whispered. Llewellyn looked up at her. Tears started flowing. The next moment, she found herself in a hug.

“Thank you,” Llewellyn whispered, over and over. “Thank you.”

“You just take good care of her,” Joyce replied.

“I will,” Llewellyn replied. “You can be sure of that… mom.”

Joyce pulled back a little, looked the man in the eye. “I don’t think I’m old enough to be your mother, Llewellyn,” Joyce said sternly. “This isn’t a very good start.”

But Llewellyn could see the smile tugging at her lips, and he knew it was a joke. Besides, he was too happy to argue anyway. “Whatever you say, Joyce.”

Joyce smiled, gave the man one last hug, and broke contact. “Now, let’s go back to Sunnydale. You still have some work to do.”

“Oh, I don’t see it as work, Joyce,” Llewellyn replied. “But, are you sure you don’t want to finish the tour?”

“Quite sure,” Joyce answered. “What else have you got here, anyway?” she asked.

“Just the souvenir stands,” Llewellyn joked. “Objects I brought with me from my journeys. Statuettes, artwork, and the likes.”

“Maybe another time,” Joyce replied. “Thanks for the offer.”

“No problem,” Llewellyn told the woman. “Now, let’s pick up your new Memling, and I’ll arrange for transport back home.”

“You were serious, weren’t you?” Joyce asked as se walked next to Llewellyn on the way to pick up the painting.

“Of course. At the time, all I could think about was Hans and the 1400’s. I honestly never thought you’d try to see it as a bribe later on,” Llewellyn said, honestly.

“I’ll see it as dowry,” Joyce said, snickering.

Llewellyn was smiling as well. “Usually, it’s the parents of the woman who pay a dowry,” he replied. “But as far as I’m concerned, you can see it as whatever you want. Just don’t tell Buffy. She’ll tears us both to pieces.”

Both burst out laughing, before immediately sobering up.

“She really would,” Joyce commented, accepting the painting out of Llewellyn’s hands. “Let’s just keep it as a perpetual loan.”

“Agreed,” Llewellyn said, smiling. “Could you hang on for a minute or so? There’s something here I need to collect first.”

“Sure,” Joyce answered, looking over her painting with a critical eye. Seeing that the woman would find something to do, Llewellyn hurried out of the room. I knew it would come in handy one day! He thought.

Llewellyn was back in two minutes. “I’m back!” he said, and grabbed his cell. “Em? Two for transport to Joyce’s place… and eh…could you meet me there? I think I’ll be needing a woman’s eye.”

“Oo-kay,” Esmeralda said, confused. “But wouldn’t Buffy…”

“It’s a surprise, Em. The faster you transport, the faster you’ll know,” Llewellyn said mysteriously, causing Joyce the need to stifle her laughs.

“Oh, alright!” Esmeralda grunted in the phone. She, Llewellyn, and Joyce appeared in Joyce’s living room at the same time.

“NOW would you care to tell me what the big secret is?” Esmeralda asked, looking curiously at Llewellyn. For one thing, she had never seen him like that before.

Instead of giving a straightforward answer, Llewellyn decided to play a little game with Esmeralda’s mind, and see how long it took her to figure things out. “I need a woman’s help, Em. We’re going shopping. For a ring.”

“A ring?” Esmeralda asked. “Why not ask Bu…” Esmeralda stopped, looked from Llewellyn, to Joyce, and back to Llewellyn. “I see…” the sorceress said. Smiling, she continued, “Well, congratulations are in order, I presume?”

“Buffy hasn’t said ‘yes’ yet,” Llewellyn reminded her.

Esmeralda burst out laughing. “No worry. The girl will say ‘yes’ before you even finish the question. She’s head-over-heels for you, Lew. Now, shopping. Where?”

“Put on your nice attire, Em. We’re going to Antwerp,” Llewellyn said.

“What? This?” Esmeralda asked, thinking for a second before snapping her fingers. The gown flashed into place. Since this was the first time she saw Esmeralda shift, Joyce’s eyes went wide at the sight.

“Em, business suit?” Llewellyn asked, as if talking to a small child.

“Of course, Hon. Whatever you say,” Esmeralda asked, snapping her fingers. The white leather outfit appeared. “No,” she said, and snapped again. The normal red leather outfit flashed into place. “No,” the sorceress said again. Half a dozen outfits appeared, each time dismissed. “No. No! NO!! Damnit!!” Finally, a business-gray suit flashed into place, touched by a careful amount of make-up. The sorceress, not looking a day over seventeen earlier, now looked like a tough, hard 25-year-old businesswoman.

“Nice,” Joyce said. “Could you teach me how to do that?”

“Sorry,” Esmeralda replied. Joyce’s eyes went wide. Even the voice had adapted to fit the outfit.

“Eh…Em…if you wouldn’t mind?” Llewellyn asked.

“No problem,” the sorceress replied, and clapped her hands. Llewellyn was immediately dressed in his business costume.

“Ready?” the sorceress asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Llewellyn replied. “Joyce, I can’t begin to say how I feel… and ‘thank you’ seems a little…insufficient.”

“You just take good care of my daughter,” Joyce answered, after which the duo bid her goodbye, and ported out. To Antwerp. Joyce shook her head, and went ahead to find a good spot to put up her new Memling.

 

“Diamond quarters, Antwerp,” Esmeralda announced theatrically when they rematerialized. “Thank you for flying Air Esmeralda. We hope you enjoyed your flight…”

“Funny, Em. Very funny,” Llewellyn grunted as they left the small alley, and joined the crowd.

“With all the porting I’ve been doing lately, I think I should start to give out Air Miles,” Esmeralda said, looking around. “One jeweler next to another. Which one are we going to enrich?”

“A family I know pretty well,” Llewellyn replied enigmatically.

“You’ve got contacts everywhere, haven’t you?” Esmeralda asked. “Is there a single business where you don’t know someone?”

“Plenty,” Llewellyn replied. “Bio-engineering, abstract painting, modern music,… ah, here we are,” Llewellyn answered, halting in front of one of the shops.

“Rosenberg Jewelry?” Esmeralda asked.

“Not related to Willow,” Llewellyn joked, before pushing the door open. A young man, in his mid-twenties, greeted them. Esmeralda wanted to sink through the floor when Llewellyn struck up a conversation in Hebrew. He showed the man a small business card, but Esmeralda couldn’t make out what was on it.

It was obvious that the man was skeptical when he picked up the phone, and called someone. Not long after, the skepticism had disappeared, and the man now had a friendly smile on his face.

“Aaron, I want you to meet a friend of mine, Emma,” Llewellyn introduced. Esmeralda was glad that Llewellyn had at least remembered to use her ‘hide-out’ name. “Emma, Aaron Rosenberg, son of an acquaintance of mine.”

“Good to meet you, ma’am,” Aaron said to ‘Emma’ with a small nod of his head. Esmeralda answered in kind. “So, Mr. Maddocson, how can I help you today?”

Maddocson. Must be an old acquaintance, then, Esmeralda concluded.

“I am looking for an engagement ring,” Llewellyn answered. “Money is no object.”

“Of course,” Aaron replied. “Excuse me for one minute, while I go retrieve some objects from our safe.”

“Of course,” Llewellyn answered, and Aaron left to the back.

“And now, would you care to tell me why you wanted me along? I’m sure you know Buffy’s tastes better than I do,” Esmeralda asked.

“A woman’s eye,” Llewellyn answered. “I’ve never had to pick out jewelry for a woman before. You’re here to keep me from buying something impossible.”

“Ah. You need me to be your conscience,” Esmeralda said, smiling. “Okay. I can, do that.”

“That’s why I asked you,” Llewellyn replied. Aaron came back, carrying about a dozen velvet jewelry boxes.

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting,” Aaron apologized.

“It’s no problem,” Llewellyn replied. “I’m sure it was worth the wait.”

Aaron smiled slightly, and opened the first box. It contained a lavish ring, with four diamonds worked into it. “This is an ornate model,” Aaron said. “A little heavy, yet beautiful.”

Llewellyn nodded. “It is beautiful. I was looking more in the direction of a single stone, however.”

“Of course,” Aaron said, putting a couple more boxes to the side. He opened the next one. “A very intricate design, with two bands of eighteen carat gold twisted together, and a single stone in a six-claw setting. The spaces between the strands are .71-carat diamonds. All diamonds are of the V-clarity.”

“Nice,” Llewellyn commented.

Aaron nodded. “It is. Now, this next ring has some more color. Three straight bands of eighteen-carat gold, one white, one yellow, and one rose gold. This one has a deeper fitting, and a smaller stone. This is a ring that’s a little more subdued.”

Both customers nodded, and Aaron opened the next box. “A small band, containing three G-color V-clarity diamonds with a total weight of ¾ carat. Very eye-catching.”

After a while, Aaron had seven boxes out on the counter, and Llewellyn and Esmeralda were looking at the different glittering stones in their gold fittings of different color. Some even had platinum or titanium bands, but Llewellyn, being the old-fashioned type, preferred gold.

“I really like this one,” Llewellyn said, indicating a box containing a ring set, containing an engagement ring as well as a wedding ring. The two rings had been designed specifically to be able to interlock, negating the possibility of wedding and engagement rings not matching, as sometimes happened. The engagement ring was made of beautiful rose gold, and had a setting with a rather large stone embedded in it. Since the setting was embedded into the ring, the stone wasn’t too high, negating it catching on something. The wedding ring was designed to fit to the engagement ring, and contained two smaller stones, one on either side of the stone of the engagement ring. Each on its own was beautiful, although the wedding ring looked a little odd, with the two stones and the space in the center. Together, the interlocked ring was simply stunning. “Em?” he asked.

“No problems here, Lew. Low-set stones don’t get caught during …eh… activities, and the bands aren’t too heavy,” Esmeralda said.

Llewellyn took something form his pocket. “This has been in my possession for some time now,” he said, putting a small paper package on the table. Esmeralda recognized it as the same plastic-paper used by diamond traders to transport their gems in. Llewellyn gently unfolded it. Inside was a gem, red in color, and a reasonably large one for that. It hadn’t been cut, or polished, yet. “Would it be possible to fit this stone in the engagement ring?”

Aaron looked at the stone. “No problem, Mr. Maddocson. But may I ask why a ruby?”

“This isn’t a ruby,” Llewellyn said, picking up the stone between his thumb and forefinger. He let it roll into the palm of his hand, and allowed Aaron to pick it up, and look at it trough his magnifying glass.

“A diamond?” Aaron almost choked out. “A red diamond of such size…”

“I’m sure you will do a fine job,” Llewellyn said.

“We will, Mr. Maddocson. You can be assured. I will put my best cutter on it immediately. Your rings will be ready by the end of the week.”

“Thank you,” Llewellyn said. “Now, how much do I owe you?”

Aaron started typing on the register. “Together, 8,475 American dollars, Mr. Maddocson.”

Llewellyn opened his wallet, and counted out 8,475 dollars. Aaron disappeared with the boxes and the money. He took some personal information, like the size of ring, and Esmeralda wasn’t too surprised at the fact that Llewellyn seemed to know exactly the size of ring needed. For a few seconds, Esmeralda hoped that, when the time came, that Xander would do as good a job as Llewellyn just had. Aaron also took down an address and a telephone number, and soon after, Llewellyn and Esmeralda ported back to Sunnydale.

Llewellyn somehow managed to make it to the end of the week without breaking down. Finally, the call came in, and Llewellyn asked Esmeralda to port him to Antwerp. The man was back in under ten minutes. And then, he couldn’t wait for Buffy to get home from school.

He was in the back yard, doing Tai Chi exercises, his mind empty during the meditation. Buffy leaned against a nearby tree, admiring the view of Llewellyn, dressed only in sweatpants, doing the exercises. His muscles showed clearly, rippling like titanium strings under his skin.

“Buffy,” he finally said, after seeing her.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she said, sliding over to him.

“So, how…” he started.

“Don’t ask,” she said, stopping him with a single finger to his lips. Smiling, he leaned in closer. Their lips met.

“Could you do me a favor?” Llewellyn asked, after their lips disentangled.

“Sure,” Buffy said merrily. Seeing Llewellyn after a day at school always lifted her spirits. She couldn’t welcome it more. Her being the Slayer had brought her so much stress, and grief… and lately, ever since Llewellyn had come to Sunnydale, that had changed. Slowly at first, but now Buffy was happy with her life. School wasn’t so bad, now that she had time to study, do the homework, and with Llewellyn’s helpful pointers, she was doing just fine in school. And Slaying… well, Slaying wasn’t what it used to be. With her and Kendra each going on a separate patrol, the vampire population had decreased, and the job wasn’t as hazardous as it used to be.

“Wait for me at the temple?” Llewellyn asked.

Buffy nodded an enthusiastic ‘Sure’. Llewellyn smiled, and reluctantly let go of her.

“I’ll be right back, beautiful,” Llewellyn whispered, sneaking another kiss before running off inside. Buffy shrugged, and darted over to the temple. Ever since she had met Ingrid there, Buffy had felt…strange about the place. She shook off the feeling, and sat down against one of the support stones, facing Ingrid’s burial stone.

“Just waiting for Lew,” the blonde Slayer told the stone, almost as if Ingrid could hear her. “I wonder what he wants, though. Usually, we just start training.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. I’m sure you know just as well as I do that Lew has a real mysterious streak in him. And why am I talking to a stone?” she added.

“Same reason I do,” Llewellyn replied, startling Buffy, causing her eyes to jump fro the stone to Llewellyn. “Because she’s a great listener,” the older Immortal added with a smirk. Buffy just smiled.

“So, why did you want me to wait here? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t to keep Ingrid company,” Buffy asked, smiling. Her brown eyes looked in curiosity at Llewellyn, who was suddenly drowning in those eyes.

“I need to ask you something,” Llewellyn said, sitting down next to her, leaning against the same stone.

Buffy’s face, adoring just a second ago, turning to worry. “What’s wrong, Lew? I’ve never seen you like this before… it scares me. Please tell me everything’s alright, Lew.”

He shifted, so he was kneeling in front of her. Actually, he was sitting on one knee, but Buffy didn’t notice. Llewellyn reached into his pocket for something. Buffy’s eyes kept looking at Llewellyn, obviously scared about what was happening.

“Buffy…You know that I love you with all my heart…” Llewellyn started. Buffy’s face fell even further. She definitely knew that something wasn’t right now.

“Lew…” Buffy whispered, bothering on begging.

“Please, let me finish, Love,” Llewellyn asked, taking a shaky breath. “You know that I love you with all my heart, and I know that for you goes the same… so, I…Buffy, would you do me the honor of marrying me?” he asked, opening the velvet jewelry box, so she could see the engagement ring.

Buffy’s mouth opened, looking from the ring to Llewellyn, and back to the ring. “Lew…I…” she stammered. “Yes,” she said, throwing herself around his neck. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Oh, Lew!” she cried, hugging him tight. He hugged her back, ignoring his body’s pleas for air. His eyes too released a flood of tears.

Finally, she released her hold, and Llewellyn carefully picked the ring from the box. Buffy, crying tears of happiness, held out her hand, and Llewellyn slid the ring onto her finger. A perfect fit.

“It’s beautiful,” Buffy choked through her tears, looking at the bright red stone embedded in the center of the rose gold band. “What stone is it?” she asked. “Ruby?”

Llewellyn smiled through his own tears, and swallowed them. A lot to take in, isn’t it, Love? Oh well, let your mind rest and focus on the details. “It’s not a ruby,” Llewellyn said playfully.

 

“Come on, tell me!” Buffy begged, looking at the sparkling gem.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Llewellyn said with a smirk, sliding a ring off his own finger, and putting it on Buffy’s. It was way too big, of course.

“What’s this?” Buffy asked, looking at Llewellyn, confused. She threw herself at him, trying to tickle the truth out of him. Five minutes later, the couple snickered their last laugh. “Come on!” Buffy urged.

Llewellyn retrieved his ring, slid it back on Buffy’s finger, and asked, “What stone is mine?” he asked.

“Diamond?” Buffy asked, uncertain. Then, she looked at her ring, the mysterious red stone, and the same type of brilliant reflection… “Oh, my GOD!” Buffy squealed. “A DIAMOND?”

“Yep,” Llewellyn said, smirking, as he retrieved his ring.

“I didn’t know they came in red,” Buffy said, fresh tears glistening in her eyes.

“Normally, they don’t. I found that particular stone about 450 years ago, in what is now South Africa. I haven’t found another one since,” Llewellyn said. “I’ll tell you the story some time. Anyway, diamonds are usually pretty much colorless. That one is a type VVS, meaning Very, Very Slight imperfections. You need a pretty big microscope to see any faults. And the color… well, see for yourself. Most people would swear it’s a ruby. But, when you look at it, you can see it’s more brilliant than a ruby. It’s rare enough to find a red diamond. To find one of even color, without imperfections, is a God’s sent. I always kept putting off using it. Now I knew why. Because it was meant for you.”

Buffy sniffed, threw herself around his neck. “Oh, Lew. It’s beautiful. Thank you. I’m so happy… Oh, God! I have to tell Mom! And Will, and the rest! And a date! We need a date!”

Llewellyn let her vent for a couple minutes. “Love, calm down,” he urged her. “You can tell the world if you want. And a date… how about June 21^st? Summer Solstice. You can’t get a date more powerful for a marriage than a Summer Solstice.”

“Honey! That’s in two weeks!” Buffy admonished. “That’s not enough time!”

“Sure it is, Love,” Llewellyn said reasonably. “Money talks, you know,” he said with a grin. “When you’re throwing around a couple hundred thousand dollars, things move fast. I have to agree, it’s cutting things close, but it’s most definitely possible. There aren’t that many people I need to invite… and June twenty-first is a Sunday. Most people are free on Sunday. No hassle with throwing people’s schedules around.”

“Just what are you planning, Mister?” Buffy asked, in mock-anger. “A couple hundred thousand dollars?”

“You know, the usual…a band, decorations, wedding dress, dresses for the maids of honor, some fireworks, food, drink, … And there aren’t that many people I need to invite for my side. Most people will be here to see my lovely bride,” Llewellyn replied, smiling at Buffy.

“I really don’t think this is a time to be planning this. My head’s still spinning,” Buffy said, theatrically putting the back of her hand to her forehead. Llewellyn laughed.

“Of course. Want me to drive you home? You and Joyce can start planning already. And remember, money’s no object.”

Buffy laughed, and nuzzled his neck. Suddenly, she stopped. “Oh, God. Dad!” she got out.

“Your father?” Llewellyn asked. “What’s the problem?”

Buffy turned to Llewellyn, concern written on her beautiful face. “He doesn’t know you! And about us… and…and…”

Llewellyn put a finger to her lips, stopping her panicky words. “Don’t worry, Love. I’m sure he’s a reasonable man.”

“I…I just don’t want anybody to ruin it, you know? I want it to be perfect, and I don’t want anything ruining it,” Buffy whispered. Llewellyn took her in his arms.

“I won’t allow it, Love,” Llewellyn promised. “I’ll do whatever I can to make it the perfect wedding for you.”

Buffy hugging him back, burying her face against his chest. “I’m so happy,” she cried. “I’m so happy…”

 

Fifteen minutes later, Buffy was with Kendra, almost unable to wait to tell the good news to her friends. Llewellyn, on the other hand, was with Samantha in the living room, having a little chat.

“Sammy,” Llewellyn started. Samantha immediately knew something was wrong. Her father never called her ‘Sammy’ unless it was serious. “How would you feel if Buffy and I…you know…got married?” he asked. Samantha let out a sigh of relief. For a moment she had thought she was in some very serious trouble for something she had no recollection of, which was even worse.

The girl looked at he father for a couple seconds before replying, “Two comments and a directive,” she said. Llewellyn raised an eyebrow.

“Which are?” the Immortal prompted.

“First comment: congratulations, and the second comment: what took you so long?” Samantha said, smiling widely, and hugging her father.

“Thanks, Sam. I’m glad you’re okay with this… now, what’s the directive?” Llewellyn asked.

“Don’t expect me to call her ‘mom’, or anything of the like,” Samantha grinned.

“It’s a deal,” Llewellyn replied, hugging his daughter tightly. “For one, I don’t think Buffy would go for it.”

“And it would be really awkward in public,” Samantha grinned. “She’s seventeen, I’m ten. Me calling her ‘mom’…”

Llewellyn burst out laughing. “You’re so right, Sam. I’m so glad you’re okay with it.”

“I really like Buffy, Dad. It’s like having a big sister now… to do girl stuff with.”

Llewellyn chuckled. “I’m not equipped for that,” he added in a joke.

“They have pretty good operations these days…” Samantha joked.

“Funny, Sam. Really funny,” Llewellyn grunted.

“Thought so, too,” Samantha replied, grinning.

 

Later that evening, the Scooby Gang gathered in Llewellyn’s living room, as was their custom. Llewellyn wasn’t there, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. Buffy wasn’t there either, and that was no exception either. Llewellyn and Buffy were probably just training a little later today.

Kendra, her usual stoic self, remained silent. She wouldn’t be the one to tell a secret, even one as joyous as this one. Esmeralda was a little quieter than usual, but she had been like that since the start of the week, so people didn’t think anything of it.

Samantha, sometimes present and sometimes not, was present today. She found her father’s meditation exercises suddenly very useful, as they calmed her nerves. Her face remained more or less neutral, only broken by tow eyes that fluttered all over the place. So far, no one had noticed. The teachers were discussing things with their students, not separately, but as a group.

“I do wonder what is keeping Buffy and Lew,” Giles said. “They are fifteen minutes late.”

“Yeah, it’s not normal for them to be so late,” Amy added.

As if on cue, the door to the hall opened, and Buffy and Llewellyn walked in, arms hooked. Instead of sitting down, they remained standing. Buffy was radiating. Llewellyn couldn’t hide his wide smile either. The group’s chatter stopped immediately.

“We’ve got an announcement,” Llewellyn began.

Unable to contain herself nay longer, Buffy finished, “We’re getting married!”

The collective jaws hit the floor. “Wow…that is like…wow,” Willow stammered.

Crevan disentangled himself from Amy and Willow, and stood up. He looked right at his teacher. His gaze shifted to Buffy. “Glad to see someone finally got him off the streets,” he said, hugging her. “Congratulations, Buffy.”

“Thank you,” Buffy replied, sniffing at some tears.

Crevan turned to Llewellyn. “All I can say is this: what in hell took you so long?” he asked, smiling. The two men hugged.

“I asked him the same thing,” Samantha interjected. Crevan laughed at the girl when he sat down, letting the rest of the group congratulate the couple.

Amy and Willow were staring at Buffy’s ring, while Giles and Xander just congratulated the couple.

“That’s not a ruby,” Willow muttered. Then, her eyes went wide. “That’s a diamond!” she yelled.

“A red diamond?” Amy asked, shocked, staring at the stone.

“Oh, yeah,” Buffy replied, shooting an adoring look at Llewellyn. “Lew found it 450 years ago.”

 

The next two weeks were hectic, to say the least. Preparations were made by the professional wedding counselors Llewellyn had hired, but they still had to get the facts straight… facts the entire gang, and that included Joyce Summers, had to supply. Food was tested and ordered; decorations were put in place, and dozens of others things had to be carefully planned.

Of course, on of Buffy’s favorite jobs was picking out a wedding dress. And of course, she dragged everyone of the female persuasion with her. Amy, Willow, Esmeralda, and even Samantha. Joyce, being the bride’s mother, had no other choice but to tag along.

The beautiful dresses cost a small fortune, and Buffy felt a little conscious of the fact. It was Sam who convinced Buffy that Llewellyn had meant every word when he had said ‘money is no object’. It really wasn’t.

 

“You know, guys, shouldn’t we hold a bachelor party?” Xander asked the men he had pulled to one side.

“Well, it is tradition,” Giles said.

“A bachelor party, huh?” Crevan muttered, rubbing his chin. His eyes lit up, and died out right after. “Nah. It wouldn’t work.”

“Why? What do you have in mind?” Xander asked.

“Of course we don’t want to get too out of line,” Crevan said, as if not hearing Xander’s question. “Lew’s a pretty likeable fellow, but if we try something, he is going to just walk out. He has this thing against being made a fool of… and we can also be assured that, if we push too hard, we are going to end up at the other side. Lew has this knack of turning jokes around on those who play them.”

“Please, do share,” Xander insisted.

“Well, there was this one time, couple hundred years ago, I got Lew really drunk, and put him in bed with a girl. Nothing serious, and she was OK with it. So, the next morning, he wakes up, still half-drunk, and sees this really beautiful farmer’s daughter in the bed with him. The big oaf sneaks out of the room without waking her. No problem so far.

“But, the father of the girl in question was in on it. He comes to see Lew, tells him his daughter has been dishonored, and insists that Lew marries the girl.”

Giles just grinned, while Xander is laughing out loud.

“That’s not all,” Crevan grunted, obviously not liking the rest of the story. “Without raising an eyebrow, or missing a beat, Llewellyn tells the father, in front of the entire village, that *I* had her first, taking advantage of her while she was drunk… something else he said I was the cause of. Lew said he saw me do it. And here’s the catch: the bastard had already paid half the village to confirm his story!”

Now both Xander and Giles were laughing. “What did the father do?” Giles finally asked.

“He turned red in anger, and stared at me. It was obvious the man was thinking about killing me on the spot. And Lew let it happen! He was enjoying every moment of it! And there wasn’t a thing I could do! Half the village had been paid by Lew! I could just sit there, defend myself, but it was obvious the father didn’t believe me.”

“Of course not,” Giles replied, still snickering. “With so many alleged witnesses…”

“The bastard finally said ‘that’s what happens when you try to play a joke on me’, stood up, and walked out. The father finally realized he had fallen for Lew’s trap. But, with the village laughing at us, there wasn’t anything we could do about it,” Crevan grunted. “I swear, the man has a sixth sense when it comes to pulling jokes. I’m afraid a bachelor party wouldn’t be any different.”

“Come on, what could he do?” Xander asked. “It’s just some harmless fun.”

“As long as it stays harmless, no problem,” Crevan said. “But you can be sure that Lew will have plans to bust him out if they don’t go as he wants… and I’m only afraid of what he has taught Buffy. If Em and the others are planning a bachelorette party, Lew will probably help Buffy avoid the practical jokes.”

“He would do that?” Xander asked. “Even though it’s just for fun?”

Crevan smirked at the young man. “Xander, Lew and I are of different times. Especially Lew. In his time, playing a practical joke on someone was to embarrass someone, to humiliate someone in front of the village. It was a direct assault on someone’s honor, and taken very seriously.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

Crevan shrugged. “Get pissed, and do what comes naturally. I think that would be safest. That one time, Lew didn’t speak to me for ten years after that. I never saw him so mad at me.”

 

Things moved fast, and before everyone knew it, the big day arrived. A giant oak tree, which had grown especially for this occasion, was the setting for the wedding. Esmeralda, being the most versed in the arts of rituals, was the one doing the ceremony. She was dressed in a long white robe, and was wearing a circlet of shiny flowers on her head. She looked every bit like the Druid she was supposed to be. And, with the help of some magic, she looked a couple of years older, as to not to throw the guests off guard too much by having a seventeen-year-old do the ceremony.

When the people had finally taken their seats, Crevan and Willow, being best man and bridesmaid, took their places. The Druid ritual asked for a supporting person for both the man and the woman, and Willow and Crevan had more than gladly accepted the role. So they wouldn’t too much confuse the normal people among the crowd, everyone had decided to keep the official title to best man and bridesmaid.

Together, the twosome slowly strode down the aisle, until they reached the front, and took their places. At a signal from Esmeralda, the crowd got up, and surprised, turned around.

Llewellyn, dressed in a white robe similar to the one Esmeralda wore, walked to the end of the aisle, turned around, and waited. Only a minute later, Buffy walked out of the house, dressed in a beautiful white dress, and also wearing a flowery headdress, instead of a veil. Flanking her was her father on the right, and her mother on the left.

The threesome walked up to Llewellyn, and halted in front of the man. For a moment, it looked as if nothing was going to happen. Then, Llewellyn bowed his head, and accepted Buffy’s right hand from her father. Together, the couple stepped closer to one another, turned, and slowly started walking down the aisle. It was obvious both were a big bundle of nerves, although Llewellyn managed to hide it a little better. One thing neither of them could hide, however: they both were radiating happiness.

Buffy’s parents followed behind the couple, and could take their seats only after the couple had reached the priestess. Since there was no altar, the distance was up to the couple’s discretion.

“We are gathered here, under this Holy Oak, to join Llewellyn and Buffy in the Holy Bond of the Great Mother. May She bless their union, and watch over it…” Esmeralda started. There had been a lot of discussion, and Buffy had gotten her wish: ‘Buffy’ was used instead of her real name, even though Llewellyn was initially against it.

 

“Do you, Crevan Aegelmaere, swear to look over this union?” the priestess asked.

“I swear,” Crevan replied, without a hint of nervousness or excitement.

“And do you, Willow Rosenberg, swear to look over this union?” Esmeralda asked in turn.

Willow startled, drew in a sharp breath, and replied with what she had practiced, “I swear.” Her voice was almost faltering with excitement. Public performance was definitely not her strong point.

“Llewellyn and Buffy, do you swear to protect this Bond, cherish it, nurture it, and protect it until Death do you part?” Esmeralda asked.

“I swear,” Llewellyn replied.

“I swear,” Buffy said, rather quietly, in turn.

Esmeralda unhooked a golden sickle from her belt, and cut a long and supple piece of mistletoe from the big tree that towered above the small group. Llewellyn took Buffy’s right hand, and the couple turned towards each other.

“By the Essence of the Great Mother that flows through Her Holy Tree, You are now no longer man and woman,” Esmeralda said, looking at Llewellyn and Buffy in turn, “but you are now a single being.” Esmeralda bound their clenched hands together with the mistletoe. “The Great Mother has united you. May your life together be a long and happy one, and may She always look favorably down upon you.”

The two sets of eyes had locked, and they didn’t let go. Llewellyn’s free right hand took Buffy’s free left hand. They reached over, and kissed. The crowd cheered.

 

The seats were rearranged, creating a fairly large clearing where people were dancing. There were also tables being brought in, enabling people to put down their drinks. A buffet was also installed, something the various people gladly took advantage of.

Buffy was twirling around on the tunes of a new song. And she was dong it in Crevan’s arms, too! Llewellyn didn’t seem to mind, and Buffy hadn’t minded either. So, here she was, dancing to the tunes of the band in the arms of Llewellyn’s best man, best friend, and student.

Her gaze traveled the crowd, came to a full stop on two people talking.

“Oh, God,” Buffy whispered.

“What?” Crevan asked. “Trouble?”

“Big time,” Buffy grunted. “Dad’s talking to Lew! They’re going to kill each other!” she almost-shouted. Thankfully, not loud enough to outclass the music, so only Crevan heard it.

He spun her around, taking a look for himself. Llewellyn and Hank Summers were indeed talking… and that seemed to be all. They were sitting at a table, locked in what appeared to be a civil conversation.

“I don’t think things are bad,” Crevan whispered to Buffy. “They’re just talking.” When she wanted to protest, he added in, “I promise I’ll go in and help you tear Lew away form your father if things go down the drain. Now, let’s finish this one dance. You wouldn’t want to deprive an old man of the pleasure of dancing with a stunning bride, now would you?” he asked with a grin.

“You’re younger than Lew,” Buffy replied, smiling at him. She shot another look at Llewellyn and her father. “Are you sure they’ll be alright?”

“I am,” Crevan replied. “Trust me on this one, okay?”

“Okay,” Buffy replied quietly, trying to put her thoughts back on the dance. Only, her thoughts kept wandering off to Llewellyn and her father.

 

“It was just so important,” Hank admitted to Llewellyn. “I could have lost everything… those damn stockholders held an emergency meeting, and I had to be there, or they’d surely close everything down…”

Llewellyn sighed, and nodded. “I know it’s not easy,” the Immortal replied. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you call? Buffy was heartbroken.”

“All the more reason,” Hank grunted, actual tears starting to form in his eyes. “I just couldn’t… hearing the sadness in her tone, the pain the situation inflicted… I just couldn’t bring myself to it. I know it was the selfish thing to do, but I just couldn’t hear my little girl’s voice, sounding so defeated…”

Llewellyn sighed again, and remained silent for a couple of seconds. “I can understand you,” Llewellyn replied. “How much do you need, anyway?” he suddenly asked. “To completely buy out your investors?”

Hank looked at his new son-in-law. The first few sentences had been awkward, but Hank had soon realized that Llewellyn was smart… and understanding. The conversation had shifted to his daughter’s birthday, and Hank hadn’t even realized what he was doing until it was too late. And Llewellyn actually seemed to understand.

“I wouldn’t know… a couple hundred thousand?” Hank replied.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll lend you the money to buy out the investors. Everyone you can think of. Your company would be yours. And I’m sure we can work out some kind of repayment plan.”

Hank coughed. “What?” he asked, shocked.

Llewellyn shrugged. “I have the money, so why not use it where it might do some good?” the Immortal asked.

“But…why? We know each other for ten minutes now. How do you know I’m not some bastard who’s after your money, and who’s going to run with it?” Hank asked, his voice still sounding shocked.

“First of all, if you had been just after my money, you wouldn’t ask the question. Second, running with my money is not only not advised, both legally and personally, but it’ll also hurt Buffy tremendously. Seeing how much you care for her, I think hurting your daughter is the last thing on your mind. And third, I am a good judge of character. I think you’re telling me the truth,” Llewellyn replied, ticking off things on his fingers. “Besides, you’re my father-in-law now… Dad.”

Hank grimaced. “Unfortunately, I can’t afford a loan. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Llewellyn shook his hands. “Special offer. No rent for the first five years. That should give you time enough to organize your company the way you want it to. No investors, no nothing.”

“Then what’s in it for you?” Hank asked.

Llewellyn smiled, and leaned back in his seat. “For Buffy. To see that look on her face when I do something that makes her happy… that radiant smile that reaches her eyes. The twinkle in her eyes that’s like a star going nova. The most beautiful sight in the world.”

The smile on his face wasn’t lost on Hank. Looks like he really loves her. Well, she could’ve done worse. Thinking for just another second, Hank added, A LOT worse.

“I know,” Hank said. “I know.”

“As I said, Mr. Summers, I have more than enough. If I can make a couple of people happy, why not?”

“Please, Hank,” Hank said. “And that’s a mighty fine attitude, Llewellyn. But still…”

“Please, call me Lew. We’ll just have to wait for the paperwork until after the honeymoon. Unless you’d care to just accept the money, and do with it as you please. No paperwork is always so much easier.”

“I’m flattered that you trust me like that,” Hank replied. “But I still don’t really feel comfortable with it. It’s too much like charity.”

Llewellyn smiled slightly. “I was first thinking about just giving you the money, but you struck me as the type not to accept that kind of offer. Of course, we could work something out… let’s say…5% of annual profits? Of course, those would be deducted from whatever sum you need to repay.”

“I’ll think about it,” Hank replied, and shot a look over Llewellyn’s shoulder. “By the way, Buffy looks like she’s ready to pounce on either of us if we do or say the wrong thing,” he whispered.

Llewellyn turned around, looking at his beautiful bride approaching, done with her dance with Crevan. Buffy was almost nervous enough to start elbowing people out of the way on her almost-dash to where her father and husband were ‘talking’. In her mind, they were tearing each other to pieces… and knowing Llewellyn, he wouldn’t cut Hank any slack. He was still miffed about the birthday incident… or so Buffy thought. When she saw that they were talking calmly to one another, Buffy startled, but didn’t falter in her stride. Her father noticed her, and whispered something to Llewellyn, who looked over, and shot her a beaming smile. She smiled back at him, now very near them.

“Hello, honey,” Buffy said, placing herself on Llewellyn’s lap after stealing a kiss. Hearing no response, angry or otherwise, from her father, Buffy looked over at him, and asked sweetly, “So, what were you two talking about?”

“Me and Hank are just catching up,” Llewellyn told his wife. “So, how was your dance with Crevan?”

“It was nice,” Buffy responded, looking into Llewellyn’s eyes.

“Should I be jealous?” Llewellyn asked, raising his eyebrows, and smiling at her.

Buffy smiled in response, and put her head down on his shoulder. “Honey! Of course not!” she protested.

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want to fight over you on our wedding… it gives such a bad impression,” Llewellyn said, grinning.

“Oh, you!” Buffy grunted, playfully hitting his chest. Lifting her head, she smiled at her father. “So, what were you two really talking about?”

“Just this and that,” Llewellyn dodged.

“I just found out that my son-in-law might be interested in helping your old man,” Hank told Buffy.

“Really?” Buffy asked, perking up a bit. Her last trepidations fell away. “So you’re getting along?”

“Yep,” Llewellyn replied, smiling. “We started out a little shaky, but we soon found out that we had something in common.”

“Really?” Buffy asked.

“We both love you,” Llewellyn replied, stealing a kiss.

Buffy smiled at her man, before putting her head back on his shoulder.  “So, how are you going to help Dad?” she asked.

“Well, we were discussing me lending him the money needed to buy out his investors,” Llewellyn replied. “Gives him more free time… no more missed birthdays, My Love.”

“You talked about that? Without fighting?” Buffy asked, lifting her head in shock, sending shoulder-long blonde hair flying.

“Of course,” Hank replied. “We’re both civilized men. We can talk about what bugs us without fighting.”

“I’m just used to Mom…” Buffy apologized.

“Joyce? Why?” Hank asked.

Llewellyn shrugged. “Joyce doesn’t really like me. She thinks I’m coercing Buffy into doing things against her wishes.”

Hank burst out laughing so hard that it startled Buffy and Llewellyn. “What?” Buffy asked.

“Sorry,” Hank apologized. Straightening out, he continued, “But no one can make you do something you don’t want to do, sweetheart. And if Joyce can’t see that you two really love each other, she’s as blind as a bat.”

Buffy reached out, taking her father’s hand. Shaking, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“I just like to see you happy, Sweetheart,” Hank replied.

“Thanks,” Buffy whispered. Getting up, she pulled Llewellyn’s arms with her. “Come on, let’s dance,” she urged, tugging on his arms.

“I’ll dance forever with you,” Llewellyn replied, allowing Buffy to pull him to his feet. Hank watched the couple, Buffy guiding Llewellyn through the crowd.

 

Amy, Willow, Esmeralda, Xander, and Crevan were talking to Bob Powell, the head of Llewellyn’s construction company.

“So, are you sure you could do it?” Crevan asked.

“Yeah, no problem. Just ten kilometers from here, there is a huge granite layer, and below that, there’s an underground river. You know, this place is so perfect it almost looks artificial,” Bob replied.

“So, we’ve got solid ground, as well as water,” Esmeralda said, grinning. “I can’t wait to see Lew’s face when he gets back from his honeymoon…”

“Two months. Are you sure it’s possible?” Xander asked.

“You save a massive amount of both money and time when you’ve got a sorceress creating the supplies on the spot,” Esmeralda replied smugly. “And I’m sure that my two magic-students are going to join right in.”

“Damn right!” Amy replied.

“Oh…eh…ditto,” Willow replied, nodding her head.

“That’s my girls,” Crevan said, hugging them both at the same time, one girl under each arm.

“That’ll give us the opportunity to infuse everything with magic,” Esmeralda continued. “The very foundations will be created by magic. Not a single microbe will get in without clearance.”

“That’s the way we want it,” Crevan replied.

“As soon as we get those specs from the government. Those nuc…hello, Lew, you lucky devil!” Bob said, grabbing Llewellyn in a hug. The construction worker turned to Buffy. “Congratulations, Buffy. Take good care of him,” the man said, hugging Buffy as well.

“I will,” Buffy promised the man. “You’d better believe I will.”

Llewellyn smiled, the hand resting on his wife’s shoulder giving her a gentle squeeze. “So, what were you guys talking about?” Llewellyn asked.

“How formidably lucky you are,” Bob replied immediately. “I swear, if I wasn’t so happily married, I would’ve moved to Sunnydale,” he said, looking at Buffy. Buffy smiled, blushing slightly at the compliment.

“I’m not sure I would’ve appreciated competition,” Llewellyn rumbled amicably.

“Point well taken,” Bob answered, smiling. “Not that it would’ve stopped me. You know us construction workers. Not easily brought off-target. Certainly not a target as beautiful as Buffy.”

“I can second that,” Llewellyn said, drawing his wife in for a hug. Buffy laughed, hugging her husband back.

“Anyway, there are some people I’ve got yet to show off my wife to,” Llewellyn told the group, looking at Buffy. “And then we’ll be out of here. Right, Love?”

“Right,” Buffy replied. Straightening out, she looked in mock-anger at Llewellyn. “Hey! As that all I am? Something to show off?”

“Someone,” Llewellyn corrected. “Someone to show off.” Buffy glared at him. Smiling, he grabbed her in a hug. “Of course not, My Love.” He kissed her. “I’m just so happy I want to tell the world.”

“I knew that,” Buffy whispered back, kissing him. “Come on, let’s get this over with… I want to go on our honeymoon.”

“Any particular reason why you’re so eager, Mrs. Morgan?” Llewellyn asked playfully.

“Like you don’t know, mister Morgan,” Buffy answered him. The intonation on the word mister brought Llewellyn back to Joyce Summers. It was so alike it would’ve been almost frightening, if it hadn’t been his wife’s laughing face that said the words.

“Of course I know, My Love,” Llewellyn replied. “Just five more minutes, and then we’re off.”

“Okay,” Buffy replied, plastering herself to him. Llewellyn was more than glad to put an arm around her, keeping her that way.

 

Four-and-a-half minutes later, the couple was in a plush limo, underway to LA.

“It was very nice of the others to do this,” Buffy whispered. “Keeping everything safe so we can have a honeymoon.”

“There is something to be said for having a second Slayer after all,” Llewellyn quipped. “Not to mention the fact that Crevan and Esmeralda in their own rights are even deadlier. And your friends, now that they’re Immortal, are progressing nicely as well. They may not be up to Slayer standards, but their Immortality makes up for that… in surprise,” Llewellyn said, laughing.

Buffy nodded, and placed her head on his chest. She let out her breath. “Honey? Do me a favor?” she asked.

“Anything,” Llewellyn replied.

“Let’s forget about Slayers, and duty, and vampires, for our honeymoon?”

“Of course, Love,” Llewellyn replied. “From now on, we’re just another filthy rich couple going on a honeymoon.”

“Thank you,” Buffy whispered in reply, reaching up with her head. Llewellyn reached down. Their lips met, and the electric spark raced across two nervous systems.

The drive was uneventful, and was used by both to come to terms just what had happened some time earlier. They were married… man and wife. Both came to the same realization: they couldn’t be happier.

The limo pulled to a stop, and the chauffeur opened the door. Buffy, so entangled in her own thoughts, hadn’t even known they had arrived. She had felt so comfortable, nestled against Llewellyn… who had more than gladly let her be. It felt so right to him… his arms around this gentle creature, holding her, protecting her.

“Buffy? We’re here, My Love,” he whispered gently. Buffy’s eyes opened, searching for Llewellyn’s. Finding them, she looked into his eyes, and smiled.

“Sorry,” she whispered, stretching a little before getting out of the car. Seeing Buffy’s lovely body stretch in front of him sent some pretty animalistic sensations coursing through his brain and nervous system. But, after a millennium and a half, Llewellyn knew how to control himself.

Llewellyn followed Buffy out of the car, and found her staring at a boat.

“That’s our boat?” she squeaked, staring at a tremendously big yacht. More like a small cruise ship than a yacht, really.

“You don’t like it?” Llewellyn asked, immediately starting to get worried.

“It…it’s so BIG!” Buffy replied, looking at Llewellyn. Smiling, she added, “I LOVE it.”

Llewellyn smiled, the nervousness gone as if it never had been. “I thought that buying a cruise liner was a little overkill,” Llewellyn answered. “Too much space, and nothing to do with it. This, on the other hand, is made to my specifications. Come on, let’s board, and I’ll introduce you to the crew.”

“Crew?” Buffy squeaked.

“You can’t have a boat this size without crew, Love. A Captain, a boatman, a cook, and a steward to clean up our mess,” Llewellyn said, grinning all they way as he led her aboard his ship. Indeed, the four crewmembers were lined up, and waiting for them.

“Buffy, this is Christine, the Captain,” Llewellyn introduced. “Christine, my wife, Buffy.”

“Ma’am,” Christine replied, dipping her head in Buffy’s direction.

“Hi,” Buffy replied. Christine was around her mid-thirties, had brown hair that was tied back in a ponytail, and wasn’t too bad looking. She was dressed in what Buffy had become to expect of a naval captain: a uniform. The omni-present hat was tucked under the woman’s arm.

“Chuck, the boatman,” Llewellyn introduced. “He’s the one to see when the ship starts sinking,” he joked.

Chuck smiled at the joke. “Ma’am,” the man said to Buffy.

“Hello,” Buffy replied, shyly. Chuck was a little older than Christine, around early forties, Buffy guesstimated. His short black hair didn’t show any kind of graying yet, but the wrinkles in his face showed a hard life. He was also muscular, and not unattractive.

“Jean, the cook. A genius with food. Anything you want, he can make,” Llewellyn introduced the man dressed in white.

“A chef,” Jean corrected. “I am a chef.” Turning to Buffy, a smile materialized on his face out of thin air, and he bowed slightly. “Madame, a pleasure to the eye,” he said.

“Thank you,” Buffy replied, feeling a little self-conscious.

“And this is Bart, the steward. If you need anything, he can find it,” Llewellyn introduced a man dressed in a steward’s uniform. Late twenties to early thirties, he wasn’t unattractive.

“Ah, there’s our luggage,” Llewellyn said as the chauffeur of the limo deposited the last bag on the deck. He walked over to the man, tipped him royally, and thanked him for the ride. The man took his leave.

“Bart, could you…?” Llewellyn didn’t even have to finish the question. Bart was standing next to Llewellyn within seconds, loading bags up on himself. To Buffy’s utter astonishment, the man carried four bags, one in each hand and one under each arm, into the bowels of the ship. Llewellyn picked up the remaining two bags, and asked,

“Care to go inspect our home for the next two months, My Love?”

“Sure,” Buffy replied, hooking her arm through Llewellyn’s. Smiling, he guided her inside, following Bart.

“Really, Jean,” Chuck grunted at the chef.

“It’s his fucking honeymoon!” Christine barked. “Gimme one good reason not to haul your bony French ass overboard?”

“I am not just a cook!” Jean protested meekly.

Christine was in front of the self-proclaimed chef within seconds. “If I hear one more shit-faced comment from you, I will fucking keelhaul you! Got it? And *I* am Captain here, so my will is second only to God’s!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jean replied quietly.

“Better,” Christine said, and angrily stepped off the deck.

Jean let out a breath, thinking that things are over. Chuck stepped up to him. “She needs to get to you first,” the boatman said.

Thinking that Chuck is talking about protecting him, Jean started to look up gratefully when Chuck went on, “If you make a comment, I will get to you first. And I’ll shut that other eye for you.”

Jean looked up, confused. What other eye? His face read. Chuck decked him. “That other eye,” the boatman said. “Lew has been good to us. He gave us a job when no one else wanted us. He gave me a job after that metal-fatigue incident. It wasn’t my fault that pipe burst, but no one wanted me all the same. Until Lew. And you were the same way, Frenchy! Nobody wanted you either, even though it wasn’t your fault that your boss put bad meat in his dishes! I will not let anyone near him. And you’d better be the same way! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, yes,” Jean nodded vigorously.

“Get inside, and go to the medicine cabinet. Do something about the black eye of yours,” Chuck ordered.

Jean got up in record pace, and ran inside. Just before he reached the door leading inside, Chuck placed a hand on the cook’s shoulder. “And if Lew asks something, you hit your head. Got it?”

“Yes,” Jean nodded fearfully.

“Good man. We’ll get rid of that pesky attitude yet.”

Jean ran inside.

 

Bart showed them to their quarters, where he eagerly put down the bags. Without a comment from either, he also took over the bags Llewellyn had been carrying. Buffy was just about to ask something when she felt herself being scooped up in Llewellyn’s strong arms.

“I don’t know where this ritual came from, but it’s a pleasurable one,” he whispered to her as he carried her over the threshold of the room. Buffy squealed with laughter.

“I know,” Buffy replied, laughing. “I like it up here, Honey.”

“I’m sure,” Llewellyn replied. “I like having you in my arms.”

Buffy looked around the room. “This place is huge!” she commented. “Okay, you can put me down now, Honey.”

“As My Lady commands,” Llewellyn replied in his best ‘gallant medieval knight’ voice. He actually pulled it off nicely, even if it had been over half a millennium.

Buffy gave him a dashing smile, before looking around the room. It was larger, larger than any bedroom Buffy had ever seen. It contained a truly HUGE bed, against one wall. (What? There is actually a size larger than king-sized?)

There was also a large cabinet against the opposite wall, which probably contained some stuff Buffy wasn’t really interested in right now.

“Bathroom is through there,” Llewellyn said, pointing to the door next to the bed. And there’s a private living room through there,” he added, pointing to the door on the other side of the room, next to the cabinet.

Buffy hopped up on the bed, which, she noted, had the most beautiful heaven-blue satin sheets she had ever seen.

“It’s only eight,” Llewellyn replied, smirking. “Isn’t it a bit early to go to bed now?”

Buffy glared daggers at him, and pounced from the bed, directly at him. He, of course, had no intention of dodging. She grabbed him, and using her considerable Slayer strength, hauled him up on the bed.

“I have no intention of sleeping,” Buffy grunted between kisses. “Right now, I’m more interested in getting this monkey suit off you.”

“Very easy,” Llewellyn whispered in reply. “The quickest way is to rip it off. The normal way takes about 5 minutes.”

“Uhrgh, conscience problem,” Buffy grunted. “Animal side says rip. Mind says normal.”

Llewellyn’s right eyebrow rose. “Maybe I should just get rid of it the normal way?” he suggested.

Reluctantly, Buffy pulled away, releasing her hold on Llewellyn. He sat up slowly. He opened his mouth to ask something. She stopped him. “Go. Change,” she ordered.

“Yes, Dear,” Llewellyn said, and even managed to make it sound like the typical husband with a bossy wife, even though his face was smiling.

Buffy smiled. “Go!” she ordered, laughing. Llewellyn vanished like the wind.

Buffy’s curiosity overcame her rising nervousness, and she looked through the large cabinet in front of the bed. Inside, she found a fully stocked bar, as well as a large TV set. Taking the remote, the Slayer sat back on the bed, and started flipping through the channels. Feeling her nervousness rising once again, Buffy set for an old rerun of Star Trek, just to have something to watch.

Damnit Jim, I’m a doctor, not a bricklayer! Bones protested on the TV. Buffy chuckled. She couldn’t help herself.

“I didn’t know you were a Trekkie,” Llewellyn said as he jumped up next to Buffy.

“I wasn’t! I’m not!” Buffy protested, her hands suddenly incapable of getting a firm grip on the black remote. Llewellyn gently put his hand over hers. The tremors stopped. The TV clicked off. The remote flew onto the nightstand.

Buffy looked at her husband. He was dressed in a pair of sweatpants, and a lose-fitting white T-shirt. “Thought I’d give you something to fiddle with,” Llewellyn explained when he noticed her gaze.

“Maybe I should…you know…go change…” Buffy whispered.

Llewellyn slid closer to her. Both were still on top of the covers. “Oh, no, you’re not. If there is anyone who is going to take that dress off you, it’s going to be me,” he said, so close they were almost touching. Their eyes locked.

“So…” Buffy whispered, after fifteen seconds that seemed to have passed in a heartbeat. “Are you going to unwrap your present?” she asked.

“Gladly,” Llewellyn whispered, leaning in, and kissing her. His hands reached around, found the zipper at the back of the dress, and his nimble fingers started to slowly ease it open. Buffy melted into his embrace, pressing close to the man that was her heart. She loved him completely.

She could feel the dress giving way, and she released the lip lock to ease out of it. The beautiful white garment was pushed out of the bed, and readily forgotten. The silk underwear followed the same way soon after.

Llewellyn’s breath was stuck in his throat. Deep in his throat. Seeing her in her natural state… completely…his…Llewellyn’s heart forgot all about his long life. His mind ceased to wander. His thoughts and his heart were as one as they focused on one thing only: her.

Buffy, seeing the look on Llewellyn’s face, couldn’t help herself. Feeling more then just a little nervous about the scrutiny, she spread her arms, and asked, “Like your present?”

Llewellyn gulped. Twice. Thrice. “Oh, yeah,” he croaked with a dry throat. Something slammed into his mind, and he eased back.

“Your turn,” he whispered back, smiling. Buffy smiled widely, pounced him, and proceeded to tear his clothing off him. Having a beautiful naked Slayer pouncing him, and tearing his clothes of his body, had a very normal effect on Llewellyn. An effect he had tried his very best to ignore for fifteen hundred years. Only right now, right here and now, he didn’t mind a single bit.

 

Llewellyn opened his eyes, and he immediately felt more relaxed than he had been in a long time. His gaze darted to his left, where Buffy lay. Her blonde hair had fallen over her face, hiding her features. Her head was resting on his chest, her body plastered to his. Unable to stop himself, his free hand brushed the hair out of Buffy’s face, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

What a night, his mind stated. Immediately afterwards, it added, The understatement of the eon. That Slayer energy… that inexhaustible Slayer energy.

Looking around, his eyes fell on the clock on the nightstand. His eyes went open very wide. By the Robe of the Great Mother! I slept for ELEVEN hours? His gaze rested on Buffy. It’s that Slayer stamina. She could kill a man! He smiled. But Mother, what a way to go!

Buffy let out a small moan, and his entire awareness shifted attention to her. A smile had crept up on her face, and she nestled deeper against Llewellyn’s body.

It feels so good, his mind whimpered. It has been so long, his heart added. Smiling, Llewellyn did become conscious of the fact that he was getting rather hungry. Slowly easing himself out from Buffy’s grip, he managed to disentangle himself without waking her.

Standing next to the bed, Llewellyn gazed long and lovingly at his sleeping bride, nestled into the blue satin sheets. She looked so peaceful Llewellyn wanted to crawl right back into bed.

Smiling, he threw on the discarded sweatpants and T-shirt, and left the room. First, he walked to the library, and took out a book. He then made his way to the breakfast room. He asked Bart for a double order of eggs, bacon and sausages, as well as a big glass of milk and orange juice. Bart nodded, and left the room, leaving Llewellyn to his reading.

Bart shook his head as he left the breakfast room with the dirty, and empty, dishes. Llewellyn had inhaled the food.

Llewellyn had made his way up onto the deck, and sat down, cross-legged, at the bow of the ship. He opened the book, and started reading.

Buffy awoke about an hour after Llewellyn had, and stretched out, purring like a happy cat. With a big smile on her face, she first attended to the poor wedding dress, left on the floor all night. She hung it up on the bathroom.

“Hey, a package,” Buffy said. To Buffy, from Em. To open on your wedding night. “Sorry, Em. We were busy with…other things,” Buffy apologized out loud, as if the sorceress could hear her. She opened the box. And closed it immediately after, blushing ferociously. “EM!!!” she shouted.

Overcome with curiosity, she opened the box once more. This time, she touched what was inside, as if afraid that the garment would bite her. Slowly, she took it out. “Em, you can’t be serious!” Buffy grunted. She turned to the large bathroom mirror, and held the item in front of her. “It is my size…” Buffy whispered. She shook her head. “Em, if this is your way of getting even with me for not having a bachelorette party…” Buffy grunted, packing the item back in its box, and hiding it in her closet.

Buffy washed up, and dressed in some comfortable clothing. Seeing no one, she decided to retrace the steps from yesterday. That is, if she didn’t get lost on this big SOB of a boat. She was lucky, and soon found the deck… and Llewellyn, sitting cross-legged, and deeply submerged into something he was reading. Buffy couldn’t see what from where she was.

She stalked over to him, quiet as a cat. As Slayer, she was a natural adept as sneaking up on things. She snuck up on her husband, and threw herself across his neck.

“Good morning, honey! Sleep well?” she asked at the same time.

Llewellyn’s head came up, and he smiled at her. “Good morning, Love. I slept like a brick. A very happy brick. And you? Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Buffy responded, and turned to look at the book. “What are you reading?”

Llewellyn marked his page, closed the book, and handed it to her, smiling slightly.

“The Kama Sutra?” Buffy asked, looking at her husband with a smile. “You’re telling me that there is actually a subject you haven’t studied yet?” She asked, laughing.

“Never had the need to,” Llewellyn replied. “Anyway, I just thought I’d start with the expert in the field. Crevan.”

“You talk to Crevan about our sex-life?” Buffy asked, growing red.

Llewellyn laughed, causing Buffy to think what was so damn funny, when he replied, “No, My Love. Crevan wrote that book.”

Buffy’s blush fell away, and she looked at the book in her hands. “Crevan wrote the Kama Sutra?”

“And not only that, but a vast number of works. All under different names, of course…and I helped him rearrange some time periods, so only two people know he wrote the books. Well, three people, now.”

“Well, that’s…well…wow,” Buffy replied.

Llewellyn smirked. “Interesting student I have, huh?” he asked.

“No kidding,” Buffy replied.

“Anyway, I can read this later,” Llewellyn said, grabbing the book, and getting up. He reached out his hand. “How about I show you around the ship?”

“Sure,” Buffy replied enthusiastically, grabbing his hand, and hauling herself to her feet. Arms locked together, the couple disappeared once more into the bowels of the ship.

An hour later Buffy was back on deck, wearing a yellow bikini, and carrying a towel. She spread the towel out over the teak deck, and lay down on it, a pair of sunglasses protecting her eyes while she read some magazine or another.

Llewellyn sat down next to her not two minutes later, clad only in a pair of black swimming pants. Buffy glanced over, and saw him open a magazine called ‘Physics and Quantum Physics’. She resisted the urge to groan.

“Honey?” she asked, suddenly realizing she had forgotten something. This was the perfect opportunity… two birds with one stone.

“Yes, Love?” Llewellyn asked, looking up from his magazine.

“I forgot my tanning lotion. Do you have some?” she asked, hoping that a) he would get the lotion, and b) rub it on her.

“Tanning lotion?” Llewellyn asked, frowning. “Why?”

“So I don’t get burned?” Buffy asked, concerned.

Llewellyn smiled. “We’re Immortals. We don’t burn. But, if you want some oil rubbed on you, there’s plenty of massage oil on board… in all kinds of scents and effects.”

“Cool,” Buffy replied, following him with her eyes as he walked inside. “Immortals don’t burn. How convenient,” she said, sighing as she relaxed back on her towel. Ten minutes later, Buffy fell asleep under Llewellyn’s careful ministrations.

 

Meanwhile, back home…

Willow sat down next to Crevan, who was on the phone with someone. Without missing a beat in what was a very business-like conversation, he wrapped an arm around her. She leaned into the embrace, and waited for him to finish the conversation.

“Any news, Red?” Crevan asked, smiling slightly at her.

“Not really. Em’s busy with her spells and…stuff. I just came to ask how things are going for those blueprints, and…and…whatever else you’ve got planned and we don’t know about,” Willow said.

“Good thing Lew left a copy the phonebook he calls a memory. Quantum Innovations have agreed to help us, once they heard I was calling for Lew. They’ll send over a team of experts once we’ve got the structure finished, and the team will then install the new quantum computers, and they’ll write the software as well. And I’m using my contacts to get the schematics and requirements for the power source of our little project. In fact, I’m arranging a meeting for a couple acquaintances. Maybe we can even get some government backing.”

Willow looked at the man. “This is growing, isn’t it?”

“Who knows, Red? Who knows what else may be just over the horizon? If I can close the deal with those acquaintances, I might get us some perks on top of some black budget funding.”

“Like what?” Willow asked, curious.

Crevan shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m a thief, not a black ops operative. I guess we’ll find out once I close the deal,” he replied, smirking.

“Ah. Well, I’m going back to Em and Amy. I’ll leave you to doing…your thing,” Willow said, getting up. His hand shot out, and grabbed her wrist, making sure she couldn’t get any further.

“Not so fast, young lady,” Crevan, said. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Right. Wouldn’t want to forget that,” Willow muttered, leaning in for a kiss.

 

The next morning, Buffy yawned, and opened her eyes, feeling the smooth satin against her naked skin. She felt so happy…and a small pang of appetite shot through her. She sat up, feeling well rested.

Slowly crawling out of the large bed, Buffy made her way to the bathroom, dressed in a yellow t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, and made her way to the breakfast room.

On her way there, she heard music coming from what Llewellyn had identified as his work out room: a big room, something like a ballroom, yet smaller, with various weights over to one side. The room also contained a stereo set.

Buffy gently pushed the door open. It opened without a sound, and the Slayer leaned against the doorpost, watching her husband, who was dressed only in a pair of shorts, and was ‘dancing’ to the music, moving in an eerie synchronicity with the music Buffy vaguely knew from somewhere.

Llewellyn’s body was moving, the sword flashing through the air. His movements were graceful, fluidic in nature. Buffy smiled. She had seen him work out before. She had seen him do all sorts of things. She had never seen him like this. His posture oozed relaxation, as if some kind of weight had dropped off his shoulders.

“Morning, Honey,” Buffy greeted as she fully stepped into the room. Still smiling, she asked, “Didn’t we agree on no Slaying stuff?”

“Morning, Love,” Llewellyn greeted back, kissing his wife on the lips. “And this isn’t Slaying stuff. This is relaxation. Maybe you should try it.”

“I don’t know,” Buffy grunted. “I don’t really feel like training. Come on, Honey! It’s our honeymoon! Let go of the sword, and let’s have breakfast.”

“How about a deal?” he suggested. “After breakfast, you grab a sword, and join me. It’s like dancing. Just once. I think you’ll like it.”

Buffy looked at the stereo set, as if the poor rack was the cause of all the bad things in the world. “I don’t know… that’s not the kind of music I like dancing to.”

Llewellyn smiled, grabbed his wife around the waistline, and pulled her closer to him. He kissed her gently, on the lips. “Remember Laïs? That turned out okay, didn’t it? Don’t you think you could give it a try? This piece of music is seventeen minutes long. The first four or five, nothing much happens. Wait ‘till you hear the finale.”

Buffy sighed, put her forehead against his chest. “Okay,” she relented. Before he could say anything, she put her finger to his lips. “Just once. And no more begging afterwards, okay?”

 “Of course, My Love,” Llewellyn agreed.

So, the couple went to breakfast, and inhaled a nice dosage of eggs, bacon, and cereal. After a lavish breakfast, Buffy reluctantly followed her husband to the work out room. To her surprise, he opened the weapons cabinet, and retrieved… her Slayer sword?

“I took precautions,” Llewellyn confessed with a smile.

“You’re such a devil,” Buffy whispered back as she took her sword form his hand. Unsheathing it, she put the sheath against one wall, right next to Llewellyn’s. He started the music. The couple stood facing on another. Llewellyn lifted his blade. Buffy did the same.

“Just move with the music,” Llewellyn said. “Let the music be your mind and body. Go with the flow.”

“Like aerobics,” Buffy whispered, not finding this nearly as hard as she had first thought. She saw Llewellyn move smoothly, slowly, with the music. She mimicked his movements, soon finding her own rhythm.

“What music is this?” Buffy finally asked, as her blade moved at a steady pace through the air.

“Bolero, by Ravel,” Llewellyn replied, his voice calm and steady, radiating the same inner peace his body was sending out. Buffy felt it creep up on her, the relaxation of body and mind, the same relaxation Llewellyn had told her about. She didn’t stop to question how he knew these things.

The music went on, and on. It picked up more and more instruments, the volume increased and increased, and the movements of the couple became faster, their bodies moving closer together. The blades were almost touching each other, both barely out of range of the other.

By the time thirteen minutes had passed, Buffy’s mind had sealed off the room, and there was nothing but the music, and her body. Her eyes open or closed, she didn’t care. She could feel Llewellyn’s movements with her heart, and her mind hummed to the rhythm of the Bolero. Her body felt tingly. She knew she must be flushed, but didn’t care.

As the finale neared, the two moved even closer together, blades now touching, both well in range of the other. The movements were fast, furious, almost ferocious in nature. Buffy’s breath was fast, and shallow. So was Llewellyn’s, for that matter. The tingle has become a burning sensation, and Buffy was experiencing the burning of her lungs, the pounding of her heart, and the fire of her nerves as pure pleasure. When the final few seconds of the finale hit, Buffy couldn’t help herself, and screamed out.

Her eyes clenched shut, and the massive fireball that had been building in her nervous system released itself across her body. Her eyes, covered by clenched eyelids, registered a tiny white pinhole in the center of her vision; soon blossoming out to overcome her mind was a mind-numbing pleasure. The pulsing sensations raced through her body for what seemed like hours, but what couldn’t be more than seconds.

She opened her eyes, and saw. For the first time in ten minutes or so, Buffy saw. Her sword was at Llewellyn’s neck. His was at hers. Both were breathing deep. Buffy felt exhausted, almost as if she had ran a marathon.

“Intense, huh?” Llewellyn asked, his breath returned to normal almost instantly. “I thought you might like that.”

Buffy groaned at the man’s ability to recuperate. “No kidding,” Buffy replied, taking a couple more deep breaths. She too, recuperated fast. “I think I just…” Buffy whispered, blushing, unable to say what she wanted to say.

“Had an orgasm?” Llewellyn asked, deadpan. Buffy groaned, and turned away to hide the furious blush on her face. She felt two strong arms wrapped around her. “And what’s wrong with that?” Llewellyn asked gently. “Nothing, My Love. It was a natural response. Your body and mind relaxed, and what you felt were the sensations your body transmitted. Your mind listened to your body, instead of the other way around.”

Buffy leaned into him. He turned her head, kissed her on the lips. “So, will this be a one-time deal only?” Llewellyn asked playfully, already know the answer before he heard it.

“Absolutely not!” Buffy protested. “Only…just not today, okay?” she asked, smiling.

“No problem, My Love,” Llewellyn replied, kissing his beautiful wife on the lips once again.

That evening, Buffy had taken out Esmeralda’s ‘gift’ once again. Again, she put it to herself in front of the mirror. “Maybe,” the blonde Slayer muttered. “Oh, well. I’d like to see Lew’s reaction.” She disrobed, and put on the garment.

Llewellyn was watching TV in the bedroom when Buffy’s head poked out of the door to the bathroom.

“Honey?”

“Yes, My Love?” Llewellyn asked, turning towards her, smiling.

“Turn off the TV? I’ve got something that I want to show you,” Buffy asked sweetly.

Llewellyn shrugged, reached for the remote, end clicked off the light-box. When he turned towards Buffy once again, her head had disappeared back inside the bathroom.

“Okay, now she’s got me curious,” Llewellyn muttered. The door to the bathroom opened slowly, as if Buffy was unsure of herself. She’s uncomfortable, or unsure… be tactical, Lew, don’t say a word out of place!

“Okay, here I come,” Buffy grunted, obviously more to encourage herself than for Llewellyn’s benefit. Buffy strode into the room, obviously with every bit of Slayer-enhanced courage she could get.

Llewellyn didn’t need to worry about saying the wrong thing… his jaw hit the floor, his eyes went wide, and his brain short-circuited.

“Like it?” Buffy asked, pirouetting. “A gift from Em.”

The only thing that came to Llewellyn’s mind was what came out of his mouth. “Remind me to thank her…” he whispered. “Buffy…Love…I can honestly say that you’re the most…enticing… sight I have ever seen.”

Buffy smiled, and hopped onto the bed. “Glad you think so,” she said, obviously relieved that the ordeal was over. Llewellyn’s eyes dropped to the outfit. It was a brown leather bodysuit, with black laces to tie the front end shut. There was very little upper part above the breasts, just two thin strips of material that were tied around the neck. (Author’s note, this is the bodysuit actress Sarah Michelle Gellar wore on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, April 2, 1998. Picture was taken by Mark Seliger. See the picture here.)

“Looks like I get to unwrap a present tonight,” Llewellyn muttered quietly, toying with the laces.

“Not so fast, Mister,” Buffy grunted, rolling herself on top of him, and sitting up straight, her lovely behind positioned strategically on top of his crotch. “It took me a lot of effort to get into this. You could show some appreciation.” Bending over, so her lovely face was positioned near his, she said playfully, “Beg me for it.”

“Ohh…kinky,” Llewellyn whispered, one eyebrow into the air, smiling. “Yes, Milady. Maybe I please unwrap my present, My Lady?”

“Hmmm,” Buffy brought out. “Call me…hm…Oh! Call me ‘Mistress’!”

“Mistress Buffy?” Llewellyn asked, bursting out laughing. Buffy couldn’t help herself but laugh as well. The couple recomposed, and Buffy picked herself up from Llewellyn’s chest. She sat up straight once again.

“Mistress Elisabeth,” Buffy said. Then, to herself, but still loud enough for Llewellyn to hear, she said, “Sounds threatening enough.” Llewellyn opened his mouth to say something, and Buffy beat him to it. “If you say anything to anybody, I will kill you. Permanently,” she threatened.

Llewellyn gulped. The response was greater than his control. “Yes, Mistress Elisabeth,” he replied seriously, the appropriate amount of fear and respect laced through his voice. Llewellyn knew how to act… and this was acting, wasn’t it?

The couple burst out laughing again, this time initiated by Buffy. “That’s so strange!” Buffy replied, laughing. “I think I hate being called it even worse than you hate saying it!”

Llewellyn’s arms shot up, grabbed her, and twisted. She fell down into the bed next to him, her face not far away from his. He kissed her. “In that case, let’s just forget all about it,” he whispered lovingly.

“Kink is so forgotten,” Buffy replied, gazing lovingly at him.

Llewellyn smiled. “Have I told you recently how much I love you?” he whispered. Buffy subconsciously fingered the completed three-stone wedding band on her finger.

“Not in the last thirty minutes,” she replied, smiling.

“A shame,” Llewellyn said. “Because I love you with all my heart.”

“I love you too, Honey,” Buffy replied, plastering herself to him.

 

The next day, Buffy sat down in front of the videophone. It went over the satellite, cost a small fortune, but it was about the only means of communication with the shore. Buffy dialed the international code for the U.S., and then dialed to Llewellyn’s house.

Xavier answered the phone, and Buffy smiled when she saw his face. “Hello, Xavier,” she greeted.

“Mademoi- Madame,” Xavier returned, catching himself in time. “I hope the honeymoon is going well?”

“Xavier, isn’t there anything else you could call me? Madame makes me sound so old!” Buffy protested.

“It is the proper way to address you, Madame,” Xavier answered her question. He didn’t point out that Buffy probably wasn’t spending ten dollars a minute just to discuss etiquette. It wouldn’t be proper.

“Please, call me Buffy, okay? I swear I won’t report you to…whoever’s in charge of etiquette,” Buffy protested.

“It wouldn’t be proper,” Xavier said once again.

“Then call me what you called me before. Mademoiselle Buffy. That wasn’t too bad. Just anything but Madame. I’m not old enough to be ‘Madame’,” Buffy protested.

“You are no longer a ‘mademoiselle’, Madame,” Xavier replied. “However, I could use the English title.” The way Xavier said English was almost as if he were saying something vile. “Milady,” he added, somehow smiling.

“Okay, sounds like a compromise,” Buffy said, smiling. That’s not so bad. Milady’s sure a whole lot better than Madame. “Anyway, could you get me Willow, Xavier? I wanted to asked her something.”

“Of course, Milady,” Xavier said, disappearing. Willow was there within a minute or so. Which either meant she had already been there, or Esmeralda ported her. Buffy didn’t care, either was a very good possibility.

“Hey, Buffy!” Willow greeted her friend. “So, how’s it like being a Mrs. Instead of a Ms.?”

“Great! I can so recommend it!” Buffy answered enthusiastically. “And this boat… Will, you wouldn’t believe the size of this thing! It’s almost painted battleship gray!”

Willow smiled. “I can imagine. So, Buffy, what’s this about? I don’t think you’re spending five dollars a minute for chitchat.”

“Ten,” Buffy replied with a straight face. “And Lew assured me I could talk forever if I wanted to. But, you’re right. That’s not why I called.”

“Okay,” Willow said, looking at Buffy. “Come on, share! Because that’s what friends do… they share…and stuff…”

“Tell me, how are you and Amy getting along these days?” Buffy asked, dodging the question Willow implied.

“Just fine!” Willow replied enthusiastically. “We’re so over that jealousy thing now.”

“And with Crevan?” Buffy asked, pressing on.

“That’s working out just fine. He’s such a great guy… and the three of us worked things out, you know?” Willow answered.

“Working out in ‘all’ the aspects?” Buffy asked remorselessly. Willow answered with just a shy smile, and a faint blush. Buffy drove on, “Because I found this interesting little fact about Crevan…”

“Yeah? What is it?” Willow asked, uncertain.

“Are you sure you want to know? Because… well, it’s pretty hefty,” Buffy asked.

“Buffy! Quiet teasing! You’re spending a fortune on the phone!” Willow squeaked.

“Well, the day before yesterday, Lew was reading this book, and I asked him about it,” Buffy said.

“What book?” Willow asked curiously.

Buffy totally ignored Willow’s question, and said, “Lew told me that Crevan wrote it…”

“Really? I didn’t know Crevan could write…books, I mean!” Willow added, blushing at the wrong words coming out of her mouth. “What book did he write?” Willow asked, impatiently.

Buffy looked at her friend, uncertainly. “Are you sure you want to know? Because, like I said, it’s hefty stuff…”

“Will you please tell me now?” Willow grunted.

“Okay… but remember, you dragged it out of me,” Buffy said.

“Tell. Me. The. Name. Of. The. Book,” Willow said, dangerously. Buffy could almost feel the magic she was sure was building up on the other side of the line. For a moment, she was glad she was out on the Pacific Ocean, way out of range of the witch. But then again… was she?

Buffy squelched the thought, and answered, “The book was the Kama Sutra.”

Willow’s jaw hit the ground, and she blushed purple at the same time. “You…You…kid. Kidding you…ha ha…funny,” Willow stuttered.

“I can show you the book. I can even drag Lew up here. And I’ve found quite a few methods of making him do things,” Buffy said, smiling impishly. Like wearing the bodysuit. I have GOT to thank Em.

Willow’s head shook form left to right. “Me…Amy…talk. Now,” the redheaded witch muttered.

“Oh, before you go, could you put on Em?” Buffy asked her friend.

“Em. Yes. Next. Phone. Got it,” Willow muttered.

“Thanks, girl,” Buffy told her friend.

“No problem,” Willow replied, her mind seeming to return. “I’ve got to talk to Amy. Enjoy yourself, Buffy.”

“Oh, I will. Don’t worry,” Buffy replied, smiling broadly. “I haven’t felt so relaxed in ages.” Thanks to Lew and Ravel and his Bolero, her mind added.

“Well, talk to you later,” Willow said. “I’m going to go find Em now.”

“Thanks,” Buffy replied, smiling. “See you later, Will.”

Willow disappeared, and Buffy waited for a minute or two before Esmeralda dumped herself in the chair in front of the videophone, wearing a satisfied smirk.

“Since it has been three nights before you called, I take it you’ve enjoyed my little present?” the sorceress asked. The meaning of why Esmeralda said ‘nights’ wasn’t lost on Buffy, and the Slayer blushed slightly.

“Yeah, we did. I only got around to wearing it yesterday evening, though,” Buffy replied. “Anyway, just wanted to say thanks.”

“I just knew it was perfect when I saw it,” Esmeralda told the Slayer. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“We did. Anyway, I’m going back to sunbathing now…so much sun, so little time,” Buffy said.

“I know,” the sorceress answered. “Have fun, and don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” Buffy promised. “Bye, Em.”

“See you later, Buffy,” Esmeralda said. Buffy disconnected the line.

 

“This ‘d better be important, Aegelmaere,” a balding man in his late fifties said when he strode up to a small group standing in Llewellyn’s front yard.

“It is,” Crevan replied. “Anyway, Gentlemen, I brought you here today to discuss something with you. But first, I want to introduce you to each other. Everyone, this is John Simmons, Director of the Central intelligence Agency,” Crevan introduced the balding man to the group. “John, this is Mark Johnson, Secretary of Defense of the United States,” he introduced a tall man in his mid-forties, standing 1.80 meters tall.

“We’ve met,” the Director of the CIA grunted in the Secretary’s direction. The other man nodded back.

“And this…” Crevan began, motioning in the direction of a man with gray hair, who looked to be in his early sixties.

“Grant Mitchell,” John grunted. “Black Budgeting and Covert Operations. Biggest pain-in-the-butt the CIA has.”

“Good. So, since we now all know each other, the point of this little meeting,” Crevan said. “If you would please follow me?”

“Can’t wait,” Grant muttered. “I know I owe you a favor, Aegelmaere, but this better be good.”

“Ditto,” the Secretary of Defense muttered.

“Yep,” John added as third. Crevan didn’t sigh. A thousand years of instilled patience had its uses. He guided the men inside, and showed them to the living room.

“Anyway, this is why I brought you here,” Crevan said, snapping his fingers. Kendra, assisted by Willow and Amy, walked in. they dragged a chained vampire with them, the face in full-demon mode. “On the table,” Crevan indicated the same table that had served them to convince Duncan MacLeod.

The vampire was dumped on the living room table like a sack of potatoes. The three government men looked in horror at the man.

“Make-up, right?” John asked.

“Nope,” Crevan said, shaking his head. He materialized a liter bottle of holy water. “This is holy water. Make sure that it is. Take a swig.”

The bottle passed around, each man sniffing, taking a swig, passing it on. Finally, it came back to Crevan. “Convinced it’s holy water?” he asked. The three men nodded. Crevan turned the bottle upside down over the vampire. The contents started to sizzle and burn, working it’s acidic magic on the vampire’s skin.

The three men jumped back, staring in horror at the beast. Grant crossed himself. “Holy Mother of God,” he whispered. The two others stared at him. This was the man responsible for of Black Budgeting and Covert Operations?

“What is this, Crevan?” John asked. As CIA director, he could take a punch.

Crevan materialized a pendant with a crucifix. He let it drop on the vampire’s bare skin. The vampire, calmed down after the holy water worked out, started to scream and trash once again when the little silver cross hits its skin. Crevan lifted it.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven…” Grant muttered quietly.

“Jesus H. Christ!” John swore.

“What the fuck?” Mark barked.

“Gentlemen, that was a simple silver crucifix. And this… is a simple wooden stake,” Crevan said, pulling out a stake. He let it pass around. When he had it back, he slammed it into the vampire’s heart. It dusted.

“And that was a vampire,” Crevan said.

“Okay, I think we need to talk,” John muttered, pale as a ghost. The two other men nodded shakily.

Crevan explained, with some help from Amy, Willow, and even Kendra, about Demons, Vampires, and Slayers. He left out Immortals. His acquaintances didn’t need to know that part.

“Why tell us?” John asked. Finally, the question had fallen.

“Because I need help. You see, we’re planning this surprise for a friend of ours, and it would help the U.S. at the same time…” Crevan explained the plan he and the others had put together.

“Those schematics will be there yesterday,” Mark grunted.

“I’ll set you up with a military account for weapons and vehicles and NCIC don’t-fuck-with-me ID numbers for you and your group,” John snarled. “Those things will go down.”

Crevan wanted to burst out crying with joy. With those Ids, the NCIC, The National Criminal Information Center, would identify them to the police as ‘leave me alone if you value your job’.

Grant nodded. “I’ll set you up with a portion of the Black Budget. I’ll even pull some strings to see you’re officially registered as ‘non-existing’. You and your group will have full autonomy. You’re the experts. You deal with the problem.”

“Right. We’ll just help out a little,” John said with a crooked smile.

“Thanks. Me and the rest of our group really appreciate it,” Crevan told the group.

 

A couple of days later, the granite plateaus in the desert, not far from Sunnydale. A huge hole had been made in the granite slab buried not too deep under the sand. The slab was fairly thick, so the hole was about fifteen stories in height. It was long and wide as well; the walls of the hole were supported by the hardness of the granite rock.

Esmeralda’s hands were outstretched in front of her. Her eyes closed, and she focused. Another load of material appeared. Not from her, Willow and Amy were doing similar things. Esmeralda’s spot was cleared almost as fast as she had magically created the material.

“This won’t take that long,” Bob Powell told the sorceress. “I swear, I’ve never seen any job move so fast! And without the need to bring in the material, we’re winning a LOT of time.”

Esmeralda smiled. “That’s because magic is infused in every brick, every gram of cement, every steel bar. This building will practically build itself. Not to mention be one of the most secure places on Earth.”

“We’re almost out of bricks, sir,” one of the workers reported through Bob’s radio.

Esmeralda nodded, taking her cue. She guided Bob to a large empty spot. She closed her eyes. For a moment, her face twisted in strain, and then a truckload of bricks appeared. Esmeralda opened her eyes. “There. Good for another hour or two,” she joked.

Bob rubbed his eyes. “I’m telling you, I never thought I would be involved in something like this,” he whispered. “A good thing Lew chose well… wouldn’t want this little secret to get out, now would we?”

“So true, Bob,” Esmeralda replied.

“Well, I’ve got some more work waiting for me. Take care, Emma,” Bob said, shaking his head as he walked away. Esmeralda chuckled, and walked over to where Willow and Amy were.

Amy’s hands rose. She muttered an incantation. A dozen lead-shield plates appeared. Thick ones.

“I don’t know how you do it!” Willow protested weakly. “I’m tired after those two loads of uranium. And here you are, creating lead shields as if it’s nothing.”

“I think that’s because Amy’s a summoner,” Esmeralda said. “She can summon stuff. It’s her specialty. I’m an Air-Earth Sorceress. Amy’s a Summoner.”

“So I’m the only one who hasn’t figured things out yet,” Willow muttered.

“Hey, don’t worry, girlfriend,” Amy said, putting a comforting arm around Willow’s shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll figure yours out in no time.”

“It took me three years to figure out mine,” Esmeralda said. “So don’t worry too much about it, okay? I’m sure you’ll get yours eventually. It’s not something that remains hidden.”

Willow smiled faintly. “Thanks, guys,” she whispered, looking especially at Amy. Amy planted a soft kiss on Willow’s lips before she broke the hug.

“No problem, sweetheart,” Amy replied. “Great. Those shields are gone already.” She closed her eyes, and whispered the incantation. Another dozen thick lead plates appeared. “That’s 60,” Amy whispered. She took her radio. “Mr. Powell? This is Amy. I’ve just gotten the last batch of G-12’s ready. What’s next?”

We’ve got everything for the two reactors. Now it’s just a matter of raw construction materials. Bricks, cement, steel grids to reinforce the concrete.

“How much?” Amy wanted to know. Bob chuckled through the radio. Don’t worry, he replied. We need a couple thousand tones of each. When you see the three floors above ground being built, call me again, Bob said with a dry amusement.

Amy shrugged, and turned to Willow. “What’d ya say, Sweetheart? Up for some cement?”

“Sure,” Willow replied. Esmeralda watched them go, shaking her head. I love those kids. I wonder where Xander’s hanging out? Esmeralda’s magic reached out, and soon located Xander. Before she went there, she created another 50 large steel grids used to reinforce concrete. She saw that the pile had been growing smaller, so she restocked it.

After doing that, she went to find Xander.

Xander was with Mark, the foreman of one of the dozen or so crews on the project. Like ants, the construction crews fluttered over the building, still practically invisible, if only the huge hole and the flurry of activity wasn’t a dead giveaway.

“Yeah, that’s the way,” Mark told Xander, the younger man working one of the large concrete mixers. “Now, poor it into the wheelbarrow. Not too fast, or it’ll tip over.”

Esmeralda watched in amusement as Xander and the foremen went on, disappearing into the hole. “Looks like Xander found himself a job,” the sorceress noted. “Well, it’s a good job. Hard work, but very rewarding.”

She went back to the supply area, looking at the stacks, piles, and crates of different supplies and materials. She refilled those that needed it.

That evening, Willow fell into bed, totally exhausted. She was asleep literally before her head hit her pillow. It was a deep, dreamless, regenerative sleep. The next morning, she awoke fresh as a daisy.

She felt good, refreshed. Full of energy. She even whistled when she dressed herself, something she had never done before. Never stopped to question why she was feeling so cheery today, Willow ate breakfast, and went to Llewellyn’s house, the place where she was to meet the others.

Xavier opened the door, and smiled when he let her in. My good mood must be contagious, Willow decided as she smiled at the man. She entered the living room, where the rest had already gathered.

“Morning everybody,” Willow greeted. She was met the stares of everyone there. Something slammed into her mage-sight, the magical sensors in her brain. Amy, sitting next to Crevan, was radiating such a huge magic-presence! Almost as strong as Esmeralda’s…was? Whatever happened to Esmeralda, it was massive. Her power seemed to have quadrupled overnight!

“Amy? Em?” Willow asked, uncertain.

“Have you checked yourself?” Amy asked.

“No…” Willow said, confused. She closed her eyes. Her sensors focused on her body. They went ballistic. “That is…wow,” Willow muttered, sitting down at the other side of Crevan. His second arm draped around her.

“Two sorceresses and a wizardess,” Crevan muttered, grinning evilly. “Vampires and demons beware.”

“We…I…how?” Willow stuttered.

Esmeralda shrugged. “I told you, I don’t know. Must’ve been the sheer amount of magic we’ve been using the last couple of days. The Magic must’ve felt we were ready.”

“But…but…it skipped an entire level! We went from witches to sorceresses!” Amy shouted.

“Sometimes, Magic’s like that,” Esmeralda replied. “Anyway, we’re vastly more powerful now. The work will go even better… imagine the stronger magic we can lay into our materials now! I mean… you tow can port people now, and *I* can create magical gateways. Permanent ones!”

“That’s handy,” Willow whispered. “So, we can port now?” she asked.

Esmeralda nodded. “Think of where you want to be, and activate the magic. I snap my fingers, or clap my hands. More or less depends on what I’m doing.”

Willow closed her eyes. “Wow!” she shouted. “I…I…can see Buffy! I just thought of her, and there she was!”

“Dimension-sight,” Esmeralda said, nodding. “Try looking inside the boat.”

Willow grunted, straining. “Hard,” she whispered.

“Shields,” Esmeralda replied. “Just like all the rest, the boat has heavy magic-shields on it. As long as it’s outside, like on the deck, you can see without a problem. Inside, however, is a whole different story.”

Willow’s eyes shot open, a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

“What?” everyone asked.

“Nothing,” Willow replied, shaking her head furiously. “I…I saw nothing. I didn’t see Lew getting up on deck!”

“U-huh,” Crevan said, smirking. “Looks like you’ve got to be careful where you look.”

“No kidding,” Esmeralda replied. “You can look wherever you want, as long as it isn’t shielded. And there aren’t many people on the planet who know about shielding.”

“Monsieur for Mademoiselle Esmeralda,” Xavier said, entering the living room.

Esmeralda shrugged at the group to indicate her surprise, and picked up the extension in the living room. “Hello? Lew…no, Willow…Yeah, she and Amy evolved last night, so did I…yeah, two sorceresses and a wizardess…yeah, a surprise to me as well… listen, Lew, Willow was just experimenting…nah, she didn’t see shit, it was I who asked her to see if she could look inside… yeah, just a test…no problem…yeah, talk to you later. See you, Lew.”

She hung up, and let out her breath. “He wasn’t happy when the boat’s shields sounded alarm. He first thought I was trying to sneak a peak. I explained some stuff. Not why I think we evolved,” she said.

“In other words, we’re to stay away from Lew,” Amy whispered. “At least with our Sight.”

“He values his privacy,” Esmeralda said. “I can’t say that I blame him. Anyway, I think it’s about time we go to the construction site. They’re probably running out of concrete by now.”

“Can I?” Willow asked.

“Maybe it would be best if I ported the group, and you and Amy just tried yourselves… porting isn’t a laughing matter,” Esmeralda said.

Willow and Amy looked at each other, and shrugged. “Okay,” the two new sorceresses said. They closed their eyes, focused on the construction site, and snapped their fingers. They disappeared. Esmeralda immediately bit off a curse, and snapped her fingers. Amy and Willow reappeared, lying flat on the ground.

“You appeared directly over the construction site,” the wizardess said.

“Yeah, about five hundred meters up,” Amy grunted angrily.

“It wasn’t what I had thought,” Willow added.

“You need to concentrate. Your magic will run rampart if you don’t. Remember, you no longer need incantations, which focused you automatically. Without them, you need to do all the work, instead of letting the incantation do it for you.”

Willow and Amy looked at each other, blushing slightly. They sat up, and closed their eyes. Now, they tried to relax as well… before snapping their fingers.

Esmeralda shrugged. “Close enough,” she muttered.

“Close enough to what?” Crevan asked, concerned over his two girlfriends.

“They only dropped ten centimeters,” Esmeralda said. “Don’t worry. In a week or so, they’ll have it down to an art. I am not going to port them anymore. They can do it themselves now. They need to learn, and one learns best by doing.”

Crevan nodded, understanding teacher-talk when he heard it. “So? Ready to get to work?” he asked, looking around the group. Xander and Esmeralda nodded. Kendra, as Slayer, stayed behind in Sunnydale. Giles, as her Watcher ad-interim, stayed behind with her, to help if something came up. Esmeralda ported Xander, Crevan, and herself to the construction site.

That day was one of the most fun-filled in Esmeralda’s life. As a Wizardess, her powers had increased dramatically, both in strength as in the amount of reserves she had. Her reserves were greater now than they had been when she had been a sorceress and wearing Tal Rasha’s Wrappings. She created a small mountain of cement without even trying hard. The moment it appeared, the cement was glowing in amber magical energy before settling down.

“Wow,” Esmeralda said, grinning. “That is sure going to stop some nasties. Major Enchantment against all evil. Not to mention a 1000% increase in cohesion, adhesion, and tension strength… that reminds me.” Esmeralda stepped to the edge of the pit, and spread her arms horizontally.

She closed her eyes. Work grounded to a halt when the skies darkened. Everyone was staring at the figure of the wizardess, white-and-amber magical energies leaping around her body. It seemed to come from the ground, and leaped up around her like rings in a magnetic field. The energy settled in the area around her hands. Above her hands, more half-circles appeared, leaping to the other hand, or to her head.

Esmeralda’s face displayed tension as she finished weaving her magic through the building. Her open hands clenched into fists, and she jerked her arms to her chest, crossing them over her chest. The magic that had surrounded her blasted outwards, and lay down in a mesh over the construction, which glowed amber. The amber glow spread out, encompassing the entire structure, before finally, slowly, dying down. The mesh disappeared.

The skies cleared instantly, and Esmeralda lowered her arms. “Just pumped some added power into the building,” Esmeralda shouted, her magical powers enhancing her speech, so everyone could hear her.

“Wow,” Amy whispered, seeing the display of power. “Think we’ll ever be able to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Willow replied. “But I would sure like to try.”

“Agreed,” Amy said, nodding slowly.

 

Buffy watched the small Polynesian island disappear over the horizon.

“Liked it?” Llewellyn asked, gently wrapping his arms around her waist.

“It was beautiful,” Buffy whispered. “And they were friendly to, in a non-English speaking kind of way.”

Llewellyn smiled. “I offered to teach you some,” he told her.

“Yeah, I know,” Buffy replied, turning her head. She reached up, her intent obvious. Llewellyn leaned in, met her halfway. Their lips met. “Anyway, what’s next?” the Slayer asked.

Llewellyn shrugged. “Whatever we want,” the Immortal replied. “After all, we have about a month-and-a-half left on our voyage. Plenty of islands in Polynesia. Or I could just tell Christine to put some power into it, and spend a couple weeks in New Zealand, or in Australia, or the Philippines… There are so many places I could show you…”

“Oh, really?” Buffy asked, raising one eyebrow. “In that case, surprise me?” she asked.

The smile on Llewellyn’s face betrayed that he didn’t mind the job at all. “No problem, My Love. Come on; let’s go to the bridge. Christine has most of the maps.”

“Can we just stay here for a few more minutes, Honey? Just till the island’s gone,” Buffy asked, looking out over the ocean, where the island was fading slowly into the distance.

“No problem, Love,” Llewellyn replied, smiling at the feeling of the blonde Slayer leaning against him, the gentle murmur of the water, the soft blow of the ever-present ocean wind, and the gentle rocking of the boat on the waves. Llewellyn closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting back to a period with the East-Indian Company, where he sailed the seven seas on board some of the biggest sailing vessels over made. He inhaled deeply, savoring the smooth scent of the ocean air.

“Honey?” Buffy asked.

“Hmm?” Llewellyn asked, his eyes opening slowly.

“Where did you go?”  Buffy asked. By now, she could tell when he was thinking about the past. Seeing the smile, it must’ve been one of his more enjoyable memories. Buffy knew she was going to hear another tale later tonight… she could hardly wait. History was so much more interesting when Llewellyn told about it.

“The East-Indian Company, My Love” Llewellyn answered.

“Huh?” Buffy asked. “Who were they?”

“A Dutch shipping company in the 16^th-18^th century. They sailed from the Netherlands to the Far East, gathering spices and later silk and cotton. They made a fortune. So did I,” he snickered. Somehow, ever since his relationship with Buffy had expanded, Llewellyn felt his emotions come to the surface more.

Buffy snickered along with him. “Come on,” she finally said. “Let’s go to see Christine, and you can tell me all about your sailing buddies.”

“I’ll be glad to entertain My Lady on stories of my past,” Llewellyn stated formally, offering her his arm. Giggling, she took it, and let herself be escorted up to the bridge of the ship.

“Hello, Captain,” Llewellyn greeted the solitary figure standing at the helm of the vessel.

“Hey, Boss,” Christine replied. “So, whereto now?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Llewellyn said, smiling. “We’re going to put out a route, and need some charts.”

“They’re over there, Boss,” Christine replied, pointing her thumb over her shoulder, to a table that held various charts.

“Thanks. We’ll be out of your hair soon, Christine,” Buffy said, walking over to the chart table.

“No bother. Stay as long as you like,” Christine said, her eyes darting over the radar, the bearing, and the ocean. The steering wheel and her hands seemed to form a single entity, and Buffy could feel that this woman’s life was the ocean, and the ship.

By now, Llewellyn had taken out a chart of the Oceania: Australia, New Zealand, and Tasmania. “I know some very beautiful spots in New Zealand,” he told his wife. “Very romantic, but requires some physical exercise to get there. Of course, New Zealand also has some nice beaches, so…”

“I can lay in the sun on the ship,” Buffy replied, startling Llewellyn. “I could use some exercise.”

“I thought you wanted, and I quote ‘Sun, sea, and being pampered.’?” Llewellyn asked.

“Hey, it gets boring after a while,” Buffy said. “Besides, if this goes on, I’ll have a tan darker than Kendra’s.”

“In that case, we’ll first go to the northern island, and… hmm…let me make a phone call, Ok, sweetheart?” Llewellyn asked.

“Sure,” Buffy replied, unsure. Llewellyn walked to the control panel of the bridge, and picked up the phone.

“Good afternoon. My name is Llewellyn Morgan, and I would like to know where you might have a hotel available in New Zealand.” Llewellyn smiled. “Auckland? Could you wait for just a moment? Thank you.”

“Hilton in Auckland, overlooking the harbor. What do you think, Love?” Llewellyn asked Buffy.

“Sure,” Buffy said, smiling. “That sounds nice.”

“What’s the time to Auckland?” Llewellyn asked Christine. The captain noted her GPS position, went to the charts, and looked.

“A week, but that’s comfortably. If you really want, I can get you there in four or five days,” Christine replied.

“Thanks,” Llewellyn said, and turned back to the phone. “Hello? Yes, thanks for holding. Yes, I would like to make a reservation…Do you have something free for seven days from now?

“The Auckland Hilton has a lot of spare room next week, Mr. Morgan,” Paul Watt replied.

“Is the honeymoon suite available?” Llewellyn asked, causing Buffy’s smile to break out big in excitement.

“Yes, it is, Mr. Morgan. Would you like me to reserve it for you?” the man asked politely.

“Great! Yes, you can book us for it, for … ” Llewellyn said, holding up two fingers, then three questioningly towards Buffy. She held of three fingers, smiling. “Three weeks.”

“No problem, Mr. Morgan. For a regular client, such as yourself, the hotel would like to offer you a complimentary care package for the glorious occasion. This package includes a bottle of fine champagne, and a romantic dinner for two.”

“That is very nice of you. A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Watt,” Llewellyn said.

“No problem, Mr. Morgan.”

“A good afternoon to you, Mr. Watt.”

“And a good afternoon to you, too, Mr. Morgan,” the man said before Llewellyn disconnected.

“We’ve got the honeymoon suite for three weeks. And, because I’m such a loyal client, we got a care package: a bottle of champagne and a romantic dinner for two,” Llewellyn said, smiling widely. Buffy jumped up into his arms.

“So, what else are we going to do? Or are we just going to stay at the hotel?” Buffy asked.

“We can improvise, My Love. A Hilton is not a Hilton without some special services that need to be used.”

“Wait ‘till everyone back home hears about this! They’re going to be so jealous! A romantic cruise, three weeks honeymoon suite at the Hilton, seeing New Zealand, and Polynesia…” Buffy crowed.

Llewellyn smiled broadly. “Glad you’re enjoying the trip,” he said. “Good to see that all that money’s good for something.”

“Hey!” Buffy grunted. “I would still love you if you were as poor as a church louse.”

“Joyce has something against me now… I can only guess what lengths she would’ve gone to if I didn’t have all this money, or the pull…”

“Hey! No dark faces!” Buffy admonished. “This is our honeymoon. If Mom doesn’t like it, tough!”

“At least she seemed to be turning around,” Llewellyn said. “She only told me two times that I’d better take good care of you, or else…”

“She’s always going to be my mother,” Buffy replied, hugging Llewellyn tight. Breaking the hug, she said, “And didn’t you promise me the a story concerning you and some sailing buddies back in the seventeen hundreds?”

Christine raised an eyebrow. I’m not going to ask what post, she told herself. He gave me a job after that drunk asshole rammed my boat. They cleared me, but no one wanted to employ me. And then came Lew. I do NOT want to be out of job for prying!

 

“So, what are we going to do today, Honey?” Buffy asked Llewellyn. Both were seated at the beautiful table in the Hilton honeymoon suite, close to each other.

Llewellyn shrugged, and shot his wife a smile. “How did you enjoy Mt. Cook yesterday?” he asked.

“I loved it, Honey! Running to the top was certainly a new twist, but I enjoyed it very much,” Buffy replied, smiling. “And what a view!”

“It depends on what you want to do, Love. We could go explore the Franz Josef Glacier on the South Island, or take it easy and go fishing. So, in for the action, or in for the rest?” Llewellyn asked.

Buffy stretched out. “Hmm…rest sounds like a good idea, Honey.”

“The glacier can wait,” Llewellyn replied with a smile.

“It can so wait,” Buffy muttered, leaning closer to her man. They kissed, lovingly and tenderly.

“You know… we could always stay in,” Llewellyn suggested quietly, whispering in her ear. “I’m sure I can find something to amuse me with…”

Buffy smiled. “You’ve got a date,” she whispered in return.

“No, I have a wife,” Llewellyn whispered back, kissing her. “And I’m never letting her go.”

Buffy smiled, leaning in closer, her head coming to rest on his chest. His strong arms were wrapped around her, loving, comforting…protecting. Buffy smiled… with him, she didn’t need to be the Slayer, the ‘tough girl’ that could take care of herself. With him, she could just be Buffy, gentle, caring Buffy with real emotions and real feelings, and she knew that he would protect her, keep her safe, make sure that nothing happened to her. Buffy smiled. The warmth of the embrace overtook her, and the gentle beat of his heart muttered her to sleep. Buffy slept within seconds, safe and protected in Llewellyn’s arms.

“Poor thing,” Llewellyn whispered to himself. “She’s exhausted. Looks like that Slayer stamina’s finite after all,” he couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. Buffy didn’t stir, and Llewellyn let out the breath he had been holding. I have to stop making myself laugh, he thought, smiling. I don’t want to wake her.

Shifting slightly, he managed to free one arm. Buffy let out a small grunt of protest, twisted a little, and the smile reappeared on her face, nestled in the crook of the arm that was still wrapped around her. Llewellyn’s free arms traveled down, taking Buffy’s legs. Seemingly without effort, he gently lifted his wife up, and carried her into the bedroom. He gently put her into the huge heart-shaped bed.

Lying down next to her, he tucked them both under the covers. Buffy plastered herself to him. He wrapped his arms around her, and closed his eyes. The warmth of his wife so close to him overtook Llewellyn. His last thought was a dry looks like I’m exhausted too.

The rest of the day was spent leisurely, hanging around in the hotel room, watching TV, sitting in the large whirlpool their room had, and making gentle, lasting love. They went to bed early… and not just to catch up on sleep.

Llewellyn’s handy internal alarm clock woke him up at exactly seven thirty the next morning. First he jumped under a nice cold shower, washed, and jumped into some normal clothes: a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt, before calling room service to order some breakfast for himself and for Buffy. After imploring total and strict silence, Llewellyn couldn’t do anything but wait.

Service was fast, and within ten minutes, Llewellyn pushed the little cart inside the bedroom.

“Buffy?” Llewellyn asked gently. “Good morning, My Love.”

“Hmm?” Buffy asked, tearing open one eye.

“Room service,” Llewellyn joked.

“I get to eat you?” Buffy asked, smiling.

“There wouldn’t be anyone I wouldn’t like to be eaten by better than by you, My Love,” Llewellyn replied, smiling lovingly at her. “But, I was thinking along the lines of breakfast,” he added, motioning off-handedly towards the cart.

“Maybe I’ll eat you later,” Buffy whispered, sitting up straight. Llewellyn took her tray off the cart, and gently put it down over the blonde Slayer’s legs. He then took his own tray, and sat down next to her.

“Lew? Honey?” Buffy asked after she put the first portion of eggs and bacon in her mouth.

“Yes, Love?” Llewellyn asked, sipping form his glass of orange juice.

“Why did you wake me at only eight?”

“Because I have a surprise for you, My Love,” Llewellyn answered her question. Buffy opened her mouth. Llewellyn beat her to it. “Don’t ask,” he added, returning the same line she had used so often. Buffy grunted a little sour, before smiling and continuing with her breakfast.

“Will I like the surprise?” she finally asked.

“Oh yeah,” Llewellyn answered.

“Come on! Tell me!” Buffy whined.

“No,” Llewellyn responded. “It’s a surprise. I won’t ruin it.”

“Then at least tell me when we’re going,” Buffy asked.

“About ten minutes to nine,” Llewellyn answered. At least, that’s what Em and I agreed on, his mind added, smart enough not to say that out loud.

“Will I need to dress differently?”

“Nope. Just normal clothing will be fine,” Llewellyn answered, loving every moment of his secrecy. Buffy finished her breakfast, and jumped into the bathroom after sharing a kiss with her husband. Llewellyn cleaned up the cart, and called to have it picked up.

When Buffy finally got out of the bathroom, half an hour had passed, and Llewellyn was sitting on the balcony, sipping from a cup of coffee. Black, and strong as iron, just the way he liked it.

“Ready?” Llewellyn asked, finishing his coffee. Buffy nodded, smiling. “Okay, then,” he said, getting up, and putting the cup on the table.

Buffy looked strangely at him when he pulled out his satellite phone, and dialed. “Hey, Em,” Llewellyn greeted. “Good afternoon!”

Esmeralda? What is going on here? Buffy’s mind asked, a question reflected very openly on her beautiful face, which held a deep frown.

“Yeah, we’re ready. Thanks for the lift,” Llewellyn said. Buffy didn’t have time to ask where. The next moment, they were standing in a city. Buffy looked around. The buildings were erected in an old style, so much she recognized. The rest, however… Oh, yeah, she recognized French on the billboards. The sky was dark… which meant that it was evening wherever this was.

“Thanks. I’ll call you back when we’re done here. Talk to you later, ok, Em? That’s great. Thanks, Em.” Llewellyn listened for a few moments, smiled broadly, and answered, “Yeah, we are. Very much. Thanks for asking. Anyway, we really have to get going, or we’re not going to get any decent location. Bye, Em.” Llewellyn hung up the phone after Esmeralda had said her goodbye.

“Where are we?” Buffy wanted to know.

“It’s a surprise,” Llewellyn said, guiding her inside what appeared to be a theater. Buffy grunted, and followed. She heard people speak Dutch and French, both languages she recognized but couldn’t understand if her life depended on it, even though she took French in school. Buffy knew she was going to ask Lew to help her… if he really knew she many languages, he must know a trick to it. Shouldn’t he?

Llewellyn walked in, keeping close to Buffy. He produced two tickets to something when they approached the entry into the theater room itself. Buffy groaned when she couldn’t make out what was written on the tickets. The guard took the tickets, validated them, and gave them back to Llewellyn, who made sure that the guard knew that Buffy was the person of the second ticket. The remainder of the tickets disappeared into Llewellyn’s pocket. Buffy knew better than to try and pry.

The couple entered a large room, with a stage (of course) in front. A large crowd had already gathered in the otherwise empty room, and Llewellyn and Buffy gently eased their way further forward.

“Concert starts in fifteen minutes,” Llewellyn told Buffy after throwing a look at his watch.

“Concert? Buffy asked. “What concert?”

“It’s a surprise,” Llewellyn replied, ginning widely.

“You’re enjoying this way too much!” Buffy said in mock-anger.

“I just like to surprise you. And I want to see the look on that wonderfully beautiful face of yours when you finally figure it out,” Llewellyn told his companion, who just looked at the stage, pretending to sulk. Llewellyn put a comforting arm around her shoulders, and Buffy leaned into the embrace, for the moment not caring where she was.

The lights dimmed, the chatter died down a little, and it was obvious that whatever concert this was, was about to begin. Buffy righted herself. When the group filled onto the stage, Buffy frowned. She knew those people from somewhere. First, a band installed themselves. Then, three girls made their way onto the stage. A light flashed through Buffy’s mind. No… it couldn’t be! Could it?

“Goedenavond, Brussel!” one of the girls shouted in the microphone. The place rocked with the shouts of the crowd.

“Laïs?” Buffy shouted at Llewellyn. “You brought me to a Laïs concert?”

“Surprise,” Llewellyn replied lamely. Buffy just shouted along with the crowd, even though she had only a vague notion of what had been said.

“Oh, Lew! You’re the best!” Buffy screamed, jumping around his neck, kissing him on the lips. “Thank you,” she added in a whisper.

Llewellyn smiled warmly at his wife, and said, “I thought you might like it. So, I take it you like the surprise?”

“No kidding!” Buffy shouted, finally releasing her hold on his neck now that the band was striking up.

Soon, the concert was well underway, and Buffy no longer cared about languages. She just let the music carry her away. Song after song passed the revue.

“En nu, uit ons nieuwste album Dorothea, de titelsong,” Jorunn, one of the singers, said. The crowd went ballistic. Buffy turned to Lew, question marks on her face.

“They’re going to sing the title song from their newest album, called Dorothea,” Llewellyn shouted to his wife over the ruckus. The band struck up. The three voices started singing. Buffy just laughed, and enjoyed the new music. The latter half of the concert were songs from the new album, and what she heard convinced Buffy that she had to get a copy of the album. Which reminded her of the fact that she had very little money with her… none, if you counted the fact that all she had were either US dollars, or New Zealand dollars.

Buffy didn’t let it concern her. She told herself that she could always order one later… unless maybe she could get Lew to buy her one. Buffy immediately felt guilty. He had taken her here. He had done so much for her. Buffy immediately felt guilty, thinking she was taking advantage of him. Buffy scrubbed the though. She just enjoyed the concert, laughing and clapping along with the audience.

When the concert ended, Buffy really did feel kinda sad that it was over, and filed out along with the crowd. Once outside, in the spacious hall, she felt Llewellyn grab her arm, and motion for something. Not really understanding what Llewellyn was trying to tell her, Buffy allowed herself to be drawn along with that bigger Immortal’s good mood. They were soon at a table, where Llewellyn struck up a conversation with the man behind it. In Dutch. He had pulled out a bundle of US money. It was obvious that Llewellyn hadn’t thought about brining any Belgian money.

Why the money? Buffy though, and pressed her head alongside her husband, so she could look at the table. CDs? Oh my GOD!!! The new album!! He’s going to… Lew!

Buffy looked on as Llewellyn paid with his Us$, and got a brand-new Laïs Dorothea CD.

“Lew!” Buffy whispered. “You shouldn’t have…”

“I like Laïs too, My Love. It was no trouble. He was very helpful. I should’ve remembered to bring some Belgian money, though,” Llewellyn replied. “Anyway, I overheard that there’s an autograph session going on in the next room. What do you say? Want to get an autographed copy?”

“Great!” Buffy replied enthusiastically, grabbing on to Llewellyn’s arm. You’re such a great guy, Lew… I love you so much. And you’re all mine! Buffy mind crowed.

In the next room, there was a big crowd, gathering around the tables like ants. There was no pushing or shoving, just an anxious crowd. The crowd started to move, slowly, and Buffy thought it fairly obvious that Laïs had arrived, handing out autographs. The lines moved slowly, and Buffy and Llewellyn had to wait for a good twenty minutes before they were standing in front of the three girls.

Nervous, Buffy just smiled while Llewellyn handed the CD. One of the girls, Jorunn, Buffy thought, asked something in Dutch, and Llewellyn answered with their names. A second girl, Annelies Buffy thought, asked her something. Buffy looked at Llewellyn, a mixture of anxiety and fear radiating through her. Llewellyn said something in response, and the three girls ‘ah’-ed.

“Oh, but that’s not a problem,” the same girl told Llewellyn. She turned to Buffy, still with the smile on her face. “I asked if you enjoyed the concert.”

Buffy nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t understand much of what you were saying, but I have a good translator,” Buffy said, grabbing Llewellyn’s arm. The three girls smiled, and signed the CD.

“So, you came all the way from the States?” the third girl, Buffy thought she was Nathalie, asked.

“From New Zealand, actually… we’re on our honeymoon,” Buffy replied, a little self-conscious. We’re flying around the world for a concert? What will they think?

“Really?” Jorunn asked. “Congratulations!” The crowd behind them was getting anxious.

The signed CD was handed back to Llewellyn. “Well, I hope you enjoy your stay in Belgium,” Jorunn said. “And who knows, we might meet again.”

“That’d be nice,” Buffy replied. “Thanks for the CD.”

“Yes. Thank you,” Llewellyn added in.

“Anytime,” Annelies answered. “Enjoy your stay!”

Llewellyn and Buffy nodded goodbye to the trio, and disappeared into the crowd. Once outside, Buffy grabbed Llewellyn in a hug, and kissed him. “Thank you for such a great…evening,” she said, looking around her, the deep night having set in.

“No problem, My Love. Anyway, are we going back to Auckland, or are we staying here?” Llewellyn asked.

“Well, we could go and explore Belgium while we’re here,” Buffy said. “What’s there to do or fun?”

“Not really much tonight,” Llewellyn answered. “It’s eleven at night over here.”

Buffy winced. “I hate time-changes. Oh, well. Let’s go back to Auckland. We’ve got a CD that’s burning a hole in your pocket.”

Llewellyn smiled, and grabbed Buffy in a sideways hug. With his free hand, he flipped open the sat phone. “Em?… Yeah, that time again… Thanks, girl.”

They found themselves in Auckland, at around ten in the morning. “Thanks for the lift, Em. You’re a swell friend. Yeah, I’ll tell her. See you, Em.”

“Em sends you her best,” Llewellyn told Buffy.

“They were really nice,” Buffy said, sinking in the plush couch of the honeymoon suite.

“They were, weren’t they?” Llewellyn asked. “Too bad I don’t know them personally…”

“I found someone!” she crowed. “I found someone you didn’t know!”

“I can’t know everybody, My Love,” Llewellyn replied. “Anyway, let’s give this baby a spin,” he said, taking out the autographed CD. The room filled with music, and the couple sunk closer together.

 

About a week later, the couple undertook the leisurely voyage home. They hadn’t left Auckland harbor for more than a week, when a storm hit. Not a typhoon, but one of the regular storms that tormented the Polynesian area.

Buffy managed to stay on her feet, no thanks to the tilting deck under her feet. She made her way to the top deck, where she thought Llewellyn to be. She held on to the wall when the ship listed to one side. Immediately after, the boat tilted the other way, and Buffy crashed into the opposite wall. Finally, she reached the staircase to the deck, and grabbed onto the rails firmly with every bit of Slayer strength her body possessed. She made her way onto the deck, and stumbled to the railing.

Buffy looked over the side, her cry of fear sticking in her throat. The side was alternately in a valley, a wave the height of the deck rolling towards them at a frightening speed, and suspended high into the air when the wave crashed into the side of the boat. Buffy could feel Christine fighting against the elements, trying to turn the boat into the direction of the waves, letting the bow split the waves. 

Buffy’s suspicions turned out to be right, and found Llewellyn staring out over the raging sea, foam-tipped waves rolling against the boat, as if pushed up by gigantic hands.

“Lew?” she shouted, almost directly into his ear to make it over the howling wind, the splashing rain, the crashing of the waves and the rolling thunder.

“Hey, Sweetheart!” Llewellyn greeted her, exuberantly. Way too exuberant for Buffy’s tastes. She was scared to death. Llewellyn didn’t seem to fear the same thing. “Nice weather, isn’t it?” he asked.

“What?” Buffy barked. “It’s terrible! I’m scared!”

Llewellyn put an oilskinned arm around her shivering shoulders. Buffy cursed herself for not dressing up for the occasion, her t-shirt and the jacket she had thrown on were already soaked and offered no protection whatsoever. Llewellyn, in his oilskin had no such problems. He seemed to realize the same thing, opened the protective garment, and pulled her under it, sharing the garment with her.

“Don’t be scared, My Love. It’s just a tropical rainstorm. It’ll be over in an hour or so,” Llewellyn tried to reassure her. At the same time, a particular large wave hit the boat, making Buffy lose her footing. Llewellyn, still holding her in a warm embrace, held her upright.

“This is terrible!” Buffy shouted. “I feel like we could go down any moment!”

“The Heaven’s Gate is a strong ship,” Llewellyn replied over the howling wind. “She won’t go down because of some stupid tropical storm.”

“I’m still scared,” Buffy replied quietly, so quietly that the wind drowned her words. Llewellyn seemed to have read her lips. She could feel a sigh go through his body. She felt him take off the oilskin. The next moment, he wrapped the too large a garment around her shoulders.

“Step back a few paces, Ok, My Love?” Llewellyn asked gently, not caring about the rain that drenched his clothes.

Buffy looked confusedly at him, but did as he asked nonetheless. He turned away from her, back to looking over the bow. He spread his arms out to the heavens. She couldn’t see that he had closed his eyes, and a ghostly white complexion had settled over his face.

Buffy gasped. The skies cleared. The sea became calm. It as an unnatural feeling, as if the air was too thick to be normal. The sky was still dark with clouds, but the lighting had ceased, the wind had died down, and the waves had stopped coming. Buffy didn’t feel at ease. Something was wrong.

“I calmed the storm,” Llewellyn replied. “Is this better?”

Buffy looked around her. “Something is wrong,” she muttered. “What’s wrong?” she asked, turning to Llewellyn.

“The balance of nature has been disturbed,” Llewellyn whispered in response. “The air, the sea… the entire natural world knows something is wrong.”

“How long will this last, Honey? It’s wigging me out,” Buffy asked.

“Nature will restore itself over the course of the next few days,” Llewellyn answered, obviously feeling less-than-happy about what he did.

“Days?” Buffy said in surprise. “Isn’t there a way to fix this?” Buffy asked, concerned.

“Only if I let the storm come back and finish its job. Everything is connected, and the storm plays a vital role in the balance of nature,” Llewellyn responded.

Buffy sighed. “Are you sure we’re not in danger?” When Llewellyn nodded that he was sure, Buffy sighed. “Will you stay with me? I really don’t like the storm… no matter how vital a role it plays.”

“I’ll stay with you forever, My Love. You needn’t ask,” Llewellyn assured her.

Buffy leaned against him, throwing her arms around his muscular body. “Okay, Honey. Put it back.”

Llewellyn smiled reassuringly at her, and ran his hand over her wet hair. He kissed her forehead. “I knew you’d make the right decision,” he said, and closed his eyes. The heavy oppressing feeling disappeared almost immediately. And almost just as immediately, the storm hit, full force.

Buffy hung on to Llewellyn for dear life on the listing deck. Not ten minutes later, she was under the covers of the big bed, with Llewellyn pressed to her body.

“Honey?” Buffy asked, still clinging to his warm, strong body.

“Yes, My Love?” Llewellyn asked.

“Thank you. For the storm…” Buffy said.

Llewellyn smiled, snuggled closer to her. “Anytime, My Love. Anytime.”

 

For the next couple of weeks, Buffy and Llewellyn enjoyed the sun, the sea, and the weather, which now seemed to behave itself remarkably well, as if trying to make up for the terrible storm. They visited islands along the way, and Buffy even picked up a few words in the exotic myriad of languages the locals spoke, from Maori to French. It was a beautiful and romantic time for the both of them.

One day, when August was running to its middle, a sailing-yacht appeared. Buffy never even knew it was there until the two ships had connected, and its sole occupant stood on deck of the Heaven’s Gate.

“Crevan!” Buffy squeaked when she saw the captain of the sailing boat, hugging him tightly. “Good to see you! So, how’s everybody doing?”

“Good to see you too, Buffy!” the ninja-Immortal greeted her. “And everybody’s just fine.” He held her slightly away from him, so he could look her over. “I must say, you look marvelous.”

Llewellyn put an arm around Buffy. “I’ve been taking good care of her, thank you very much,” Llewellyn rumbled good-naturedly.

“So, Crevan, why are you here? Not that I mind you being here…” Buffy asked.

“Well, I got a message from the old man here. He thought you might enjoy a sailing cruise. So, I brought over the Hope for All.” Crevan shrugged, and smiled slightly. “Well, actually, Em did most of the work. I was just along for the ride.” He chuckled slightly.

“Oh, one more thing,” Buffy said excitedly. “How’s the relationship with Willow and Amy? Now that they know about you and the Kama Sutra…”

Llewellyn’s face turned away so his student wouldn’t see the huge smile on his face.

“Just fine. Just fine,” Crevan grunted. “They still didn’t rip my clothes off. Not that it didn’t come close at times… I managed to stop them, somehow. Don’t ask me how I did it. Two sorceresses coming after you can be a little hectic.”

Llewellyn and Buffy laughed. “So, why didn’t you go ahead?” Llewellyn asked. “Marriage has never stopped you before. And you seem to care for both of them…”

Crevan shrugged. “Don’t know why. I just wanted to wait a little longer. Get to know them better. Anyway, are we going to stop spitting into my love life? Or will I start by spitting into yours?” he asked.

“Two to one,” Llewellyn said, chuckling. “You’re outvoted, Crev.”

“Great. Just great. Do a guy a favor…” Crevan rumbled good-naturedly. He pulled out a bottle of 25-year-old cognac. “How about a truce? We stop talking about my love life, and give this baby a good home.”

“Sure. Why not?” Llewellyn asked, smiling. “De Beaulieu. Oh, my. The good stuff. Let me guess… Xavier went into the wine cellar?”

“Great. And what do I do while you guys are boozing?” Buffy asked.

Llewellyn and Crevan looked at one another. Both smiled. “Booze with us?” the two Immortals asked at the same time.

It was obvious Buffy hadn’t expected that answer. Her mouth opened slightly, as if to respond, but no sound came out. Finally, she took a deep breath. “Are you guys serious?”

“Sure,” Crevan said, shrugging.

“First thing: international waters. We can basically do whatever we want here. Second thing: back in our time, the only safe thing to drink was alcohol, because alcohol was the only thing that was free of disease because of the boiling process. Even kids drank light-alcoholic beverages, like beer. Back in my day, you’d be married, have two or three kids running around, and drink stuff that would drop most modern sailors flat on their asses,” Llewellyn responded.

“Those were the days,” Crevan mused. “No pesky rules. Everybody drank what they stilled themselves.”

Llewellyn burst out laughing. “Remember that one time Old Lady Gertrude gave us that famous drink of hers?”

Crevan laughed as well. “Oh, yeah! What was it called again? Devil’s Milk?”

“Stuff must’ve been 70% pure alcohol. It burned holes in the wood of the table when we spilled some of it,” Llewellyn remembered, laughing.

Buffy winced. “That must’ve been strong.”

“You have no idea, Love. Come on, let’s get inside, and we’ll tell you all about Old Lady Gertrude and her drinks. Everybody knew of her…they came form far and wide to take her challenge,” Llewellyn said, as the trio disappeared into the bowels of the ship.

“Challenge?” Buffy asked curiously when she sat down at the table in the living room of the ship. Bart went out to find some cognac glasses, while Crevan picked up.

“Yeah. To see who the strongest drinker was. Old Lady Gertrude had a real medieval bar, the type you don’t find anymore these days. She had these jugs. Old, authentic, earthwork jugs. Big ones. So, she had these jugs, and each one contained a drink. The challenge was simple. She poured you a shot of the first jug, in one of those authentic earthwork cups. You downed the drink, got up, and walked once around the counter. Then you sat down, and Gertrude poured you a shot form the second jug.”

“The strongest fell flat after jug seven,” Llewellyn said, laughing. Bart set the three cognac glasses down, and the two Immortals interrupted the story to ceremoniously uncork the cognac bottle. The drink was poured, and both Immortals took a sip, and sighed. “Ahh. The good stuff,” Llewellyn mused, sitting back in his plush leather seat.

Buffy sipped it, and nearly coughed her lungs out. “Wow that’s strong,” she said. “Clears the sinuses.”

Llewellyn and Crevan laughed. “Forty percent alcohol, Love. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it in no time.” Llewellyn told his wife. “Anyway, where was I?”

“Jug seven,” Crevan answered him.

“Right. Jug seven. Something called ‘the sledgehammer’, for its effects on people,” Llewellyn told. “It was smooth. Really, really smooth, like a baby’s behind. So, it went down effortlessly. And then you got up, and started the round of the counter. First corner. No problem. Second corner. Your head and body start to disagree which side is left, and which is right. The long stretch, and then, corner three. Now your head and body disagree on which side is up. Corner four. Flat on your back, either asleep or so pissed you don’t remember your name,” Llewellyn said, joining Crevan and Buffy in laughter.

“Of course, knowing us, we just had to try,” Crevan went on as soon as the laughing had died down some.

“Oh, of course,” Buffy said, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. She sipped from the cognac once more. She had to agree that it was growing on her. At least now she could drink without interrupting the story with her embarrassing coughing.

“So, we cleared jug six without a hitch. Everyone watches us. We finish shot seven. The sledgehammer hits like a sledgehammer, but we remain upright.”

“Then, jug eight,” Llewellyn took over. “The Anvil.”

“Stuff burned hotter than Hell down your throat,” Crevan said, downing his cognac, sighing, and pouring him another. “And your stomach wanted to jump out through your mouth and kick you in the ass for ever drinking the stuff.”

Llewellyn laughed. “Yep. It was strong stuff. So, we finish eight. Clear the round. Staggering, but no worse than most others do after only four or so shots.”

“Jug nine,” Crevan said, putting a hand over his face. “The Widow Maker.”

“That was nasty,” Llewellyn said. “Just plain nasty. I wish I knew what Old Lady Gertrude put in that stuff. It would drop a modern sailor for even looking at it. Herbs, plants, and alcohol. But, you see, Gertrude had a good set of brains. The drink wasn’t all that strong by itself. But, with the herbs, the alcohol wasn’t broken down. It went straight to your head. Literally. By now, you had enough alcohol in your body do so some pretty nasty shit to your mind. And then the Widow Maker came, dropped a bunch of herbs in your stomach, and caused all the booze to go straight into your blood. Damn strong stuff.”

“That was the most evil of the set,” Crevan agreed. “So, we downed number nine, and have to clench to the table so we wouldn’t fall down. Falling meant that the challenge was over. But, since we took nine, we were already a lot further than everybody else. We had won. But, we wanted shot number ten.”

“Devil’s Milk,” Llewellyn told Buffy. “The infamous Devil’s Milk. Rumor had it that you got drunk from just smelling at the stuff.”

“Of course, we looked at each other, raised the cup in a salute, and downed it. The crowd cheered. We were on top of the world.”

“But, we forgot something,” Llewellyn said. “With our drunken heads we forgot something.”

“The counter,” Buffy stated, beginning to understand where this was going. She was beginning to giggle in advance. Either from the drink, from the story, or both.

“The counter,” Crevan answered. “Gertrude told us we had to walk around the corner.”

“We did,” Llewellyn told Buffy. “Holding on to each other, and singing our bloody pissed hearts out. Of course, no one understood us.”

“We were so pissed, I was singing in the London English dialect of a hundred or so years prior, and Lew was singing in Ancient Celtic,” Crevan told Buffy, who burst out laughing at the mental imagine of Llewellyn and Crevan, clinging to each other, singing songs in old languages in an old bar.

“But, we made it,” Llewellyn said, snickering.

“And then all I remember is a black hole, and waking up a day or so later, with one huge hangover. It cleared within five minutes, thanks to Immortality,” Crevan said.

“I beat him by six hours, and woke up about eighteen hours later,” Llewellyn confessed. “The only time in my life I was so stone-pissed drunk I actually passed out.”

“Ditto,” Crevan answered. “Thanks to the Widow Maker.”

“The evil culprit,” Llewellyn agreed. He raised his cognac glass. “To evil culprits in general, and the Widow Maker in particular.”

“To culprits,” Crevan and Buffy toasted, clinking their glasses against Llewellyn’s.

“And to Old Lady Gertrude, who took the secrets of the Widow Maker with her to the grave,” Crevan toasted. The others toasted along.

“We had some great times,” Llewellyn mused, looking out into space. “Those days people knew how to have fun…”

“Modern day’s not so bad,” Crevan said. “It’s just different. Doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

“True,” Llewellyn conceded. He grabbed his slightly drunk wife in a sideways hug. “And I have just the expert to guide me in the strange and mysterious ways of modern day fun.”

Buffy laughed. “Sure. No problem.”

The evening lasted for quite some time, the three people enjoying themselves immensely. Well, Buffy didn’t get to enjoy it for long, as the liquor made its presence known on her young Immortal body, and she was soon put to bed by Llewellyn.

The next day Llewellyn and Buffy brought some of their luggage on board the smaller sailing yacht.

“Why not all?” Buffy complained.

“It’s a small one-mast yacht. It’s not that large, but very cozy,” Llewellyn had explained. Now that the Heaven’s Gate, under power of her engines, had disappeared, Buffy fully realized she was now alone with Llewellyn in the middle of the ocean… and she couldn’t hear a thing.

Even thought the Heaven’s Gate had been built for every imaginable comfort, and the engines had been shielded as much as was possible, there was still an underlying tremor, something unperceivable to the senses, but that was still subconsciously felt.

“In the old days, the rigging and the sails would take half a dozen to a dozen to operate,” Llewellyn said majestically, striding to the control center of the boat. “But these times have something that’s a lot more obedient.” With those words, he pressed a button. Computer-driven engines operated the rigging, opening the main sail.

Immediately, the gentle breeze caught the lateen sail, and the boat set out, accelerating in the wind, which seemed to pick up slightly.

“There,” Llewellyn said. “The computer will keep us on course.”

“It’s so quiet,” Buffy muttered once they were inside.

“You can’t get more environmentally friendly than a sailing boat,” Llewellyn answered. “You’re driven by the wind. What’s there to make noise? As long as the Great Mother smiles on us, and sends us some wind, the navigation computer will get us to LA. It might take us a week instead of a couple of days, but who cares?”

“Right,” Buffy answered, letting herself fall onto the smaller bed of the sailboat. “It feels so different. Because of the wind, too, Honey?”

“It’s a smaller ship, and it’s not equipped with so many stabilizers as the Heaven’s Gate. What you’re feeling is what a ship is supposed to feel like: the gentle rocking of the boat on the waves. One day, if you’re interested, I’ll take you with me when I go out on my speed sailing boat. Now that is real sailing. The sails have to be adjusted by hand, no automation whatsoever. Comfort is zero, but it’s a lot of excitement, and fun.

“Sure,” Buffy agreed. “That’d be nice.”

Llewellyn dropped onto his back, and stared at the lower ceiling of the boat. “I’m glad I kept her,” he said.

“What do you mean, Honey?” Buffy asked.

“Well, I found this boat at a sale of some bankrupt industrial tycoon. I bought her, sailed in her a couple of times, but not that much. I almost sold her to someone who would sail her more. Right now, I’m glad I didn’t.”

Buffy snuggled close to him. “I’m glad, too. It’s a nice way to end our honeymoon. All by ourselves.”

“Alone,” Llewellyn added.

“Where no one can hear us,” Buffy finished, giggling as she threw herself on top of Llewellyn, who was laughing.

 

The yacht slid into LA harbor with the grace of a swan and the stealth of a cat. No one saw it arrive, save for some seagulls that were up way past their bedtime. Llewellyn had called the nearest limousine service, and arranged for a pickup. The couple dumped their luggage in the trunk, and made their way to the house in Beverly Hills, still in Llewellyn’s possession.

The night in the mansion was spent in an intimate mood, both instinctively realizing that this might be the last night of solitude. From tomorrow on, they would be surrounded by people once again. Even though both looked forward to seeing their friends and family, they both regretted the fact that their easy life was coming to an end.

Early the next morning, Llewellyn once again arranged for a limousine, and the couple made their way to Sunnydale. They were in the breakfast room at 6, and only Xavier and Marie knew of their return. It would be a surprise for everybody else.

Samantha was the first one up.

“Dad!” the girl squeaked, rushing him, and throwing herself in his arms. “I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Sweetheart. I missed you too,” Llewellyn said, hugging the young body. The girl broke the embrace, and turned to Buffy. The two looked uncomfortably at each other. Samantha soon overcame her discomfort, and rushed Buffy.

“I missed you, Buffy,” Samantha said, hugging the blonde Slayer.

“I missed you too, Sam,” Buffy replied. Soon, the family was heaving breakfast together for the first time, the remaining discomfort disappearing quickly when Buffy and Llewellyn told Samantha of their trip, the things they had seen, the concert they had been to, and so on.

Crevan and Kendra came in, virtually at the same time. Kendra’s response was warmer than expected. She too, had missed Buffy and Llewellyn.

“So, when did you get back, Old Man?” Crevan asked.

“Late last night. We spent a couple of hours at the Beverly Hills mansion, waited for daylight, then snuck in to surprise you guys,” Llewellyn answered. “So, how have things been?”

“Everything’s just peachy,” Crevan answered. Esmeralda came in, last one up. Only the people who had stayed home knew that the Wizardess had stayed up half the night to finish the big surprise.

After another touching reunion, the group settled down for breakfast.

“By the way, Lew, Crevan told me of your little trip down Memory Lane when he brought the Hope for All. So, I did some research,” Esmeralda said. “Well, both for the research and for the chance to test my new powers. I got you something.” She snapped her fingers. Ten jugs appeared on the unused part of the table. “Old Lady Gertrude’s Booze Challenge,” the wizardess introduced theatrically.

Llewellyn got up, obviously not able to express his thoughts. He walked to the ten jugs, and smelled the last few. His eyes closed. “Just like I remember,” he whispered. He walked back to the wizardess, who didn’t even have time to put down her knife and fork when Llewellyn pulled her out of her seat, and hugged her. “Thank you, Em. I really mean that. Thank you.”

“No problem, Lew. No problem at all. Thanks to Crev’s info, I found the place and time easily. Getting the info out of the lady was harder than getting there,” Esmeralda joked.

“Yeah, you never did tell how you got it from her,” Crevan added. “We used to try, but she was less talkative than a granite rock.”

Esmeralda shrugged. “I cheated…”

“You put her under a spell?” Llewellyn asked, immediately concerned for a friend, nine hundred years past.

“I told her the truth. She believed me,” Esmeralda replied, sounding piqued at Llewellyn’s suggestion.

“Dressed like that, anyone would believe you,” Crevan said, laughing. He indicated Esmeralda’s standard red leather outfit and the red sunglasses, for the moment on the wizardess’ forehead.

“Sorry, Em. I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Llewellyn said, giving her an apologetic smile.

“No problem,” Esmeralda answered. She finished her breakfast. “Come on, let’s get the gang together. We’ve got something else to show you two lovebirds.”

Buffy and Llewellyn looked at one another. “How come I am suddenly feeling like the sword of Damocles is hanging over our two heads?” Llewellyn asked.

“I don’t know who Damocles is, but the sword thing sounds dangerous,” Buffy muttered. “I think I’m feeling the same thing.”

“There once was a king whose name was Dionysius. He was so unjust and cruel that he won himself the name of tyrant. He knew that almost everybody hated him, and so he was always in dread lest some one should take his life. But he was very rich, and he lived in a fine palace where there were many beautiful and costly things, and he was waited upon by a host of servants who were always ready to do his bidding. One day a friend of his, whose name was Damocles, said to him -

“‘How happy you must be! You have here everything that any man could wish.’

“‘Perhaps you would like to trade places with me,’ said the tyrant.

“‘No, not that, O king!’ said Damocles; "but I think that, if I could only have your riches and your pleasures for one day, I should not want any greater happiness.’

“‘Very well,’ said the tyrant. ‘You shall have them.’

“And so, the next day, Damocles was led into the palace, and all the servants were bidden to treat him as their master. He sat down at a table in the banquet hall, and rich foods were placed before him. Nothing was wanting that could give him pleasure. There were costly wines, and beautiful flowers, and rare perfumes, and delightful music. He rested among soft cushions, and felt that he was the happiest man in all the world.

“Then he chanced to raise his eyes toward the ceiling. What was it that was dangling above him, with it's point almost touching his head? It was a sharp sword, and it was hung by only a single horsehair. What if the hair should break? There was danger every moment that it would do so.

“The smile faded from the lips of Damocles. His face became very pale. His hands trembled. He wanted no more food; he could drink no more wine; he took no more delight in the music. He longed to be out of the palace, and away, he cared not where.

“‘What is the matter?’ said the tyrant.

“‘That sword! That sword!’ cried Damocles. He was so badly frightened that he dared not move.

“‘Yes,’ said Dionysius, ‘I know there is a sword above your head, and that it may fall at any moment. But why should that trouble you? I have a sword over my head all the time. I am every moment in dread lest something may cause me to lose my life.’

“‘Let me go,’ said Damocles. ‘I now see that I was mistaken, and that the rich and powerful are not so happy as they seem. Let me go back to my old home in the poor little cottage among the mountains.’

“And so long as he lived, he never again wanted to be rich, or to change places with the king.”

“The story was lost. His sword wasn’t,” Llewellyn joked.

The reunion with her friends was just as emotional as it had been with the people staying permanently at Llewellyn’s home. Finally, after Llewellyn and Buffy had talked about their trip, and entire gang ported to a hill overlooking the construction site. Whatever it was that had been built was hidden under a huge magical veil. Except for the road they were standing on, nothing could be seen. A magical ribbon hung over the road, almost like it were a building that was inaugurated.

“Lew, Buffy, I present to you… Phoenix Force,” Esmeralda said, theatrically taking out a huge pair of scissors, and cutting the magical ribbon that had been strung over the access road. The huge veil disappeared.

“What is that?” Buffy managed.

“By the Robe of the Great Mother,” Llewellyn muttered.

“Here’s the book,” Crevan said, throwing two phonebook-sized tomes to Llewellyn, who started leafing through one.

“Blueprints. Magical spells ingrained into the construction?” Llewellyn asked, choking. “Satan Himself would have one Hell of a time breaching those defenses! And look at this! An array of TWENTY quantum processors running a multitude of artificial intelligences! And what are you planning with a building eighteen stories high, and completely self-sufficient when it comes to heat, electricity, and water?” Llewellyn asked.

“We’ll tell you that during the tour,” Crevan said mysteriously. “We’ve got it all worked out… even got the government to support us.”

“Damn,” Llewellyn muttered, following the others inside.

 

The end.

 

Just what is Phoenix Force? What are the plans of the building?

These and other questions get answered in Student in Sunnydale, part five! I will see all of you there, won’t I?