The three remaining members of the Scooby gang were gathered wearily at Willow’s house, as they had for the last five months. Each morning, after their unending vigil over Sunnydale, they sat and talked. They spoke about those they knew who died, who had fought the same battles. They talked in a way of keeping their memories alive.
On this cool September morning, they found themselves sharing a remembrance of Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer, who fell almost a year before.
“Remember how she used to...” Xander would begin. Willow would jump in and add something, anything, to enrich the memory. Oz would usually remain quiet, but there were times that he, too, would share memories about the woman who had touched each of their lives.
Each of them had changed in some way since the Slayer’s passing. Xander, the goof-off, had become strong under the burden of his responsibilities, and had learned to live with the demons within. Oz had finally come to terms with his animal side, and had grown stronger for it. Willow had finally tapped into her abilities and emotions, and had grown to control the magic of the world around her.
On the outside they had changed little. True, Xander was more muscled and moved more gracefully. And when Willow walked by, the air was charged with the energies that she wielded. Oz walked with a sort of lupine grace, which was to be expected.
On the table before them lay the weapons they had grown comfortable with during the long months since they had taken up the burden of guarding the Hellmouth. Xander’s sword, a long and tapering blade. Willow’s spell components, used to focus her more powerful spells. Oz had his hands on the table, the only weapons he would need against any vampire and most demons.
This meeting was drawing to a close, in the same fashion as any other. Quietly murmured farewells and brief embraces before Xander left for his small apartment while Willow and Oz went to their room. The feeling of evil that hung over the table was different, however. Xander bucked his sheathed sword to his belt and rested his hand on the hilt as he walked out the door into the early morning sun. Little did the three know that their world was once again being unraveled.
Meanwhile, in the Master’s old crypt...
Buffy Summers, now very much a vampire, looked upon the place where the self titled ‘Master’ dwelled before being destroyed by her mortal hand almost five years ago. Her gaze was drawn to the pool of water that almost claimed her life. Her story would have ended then if a boy named Xander hadn’t been their to bring her back from the brink of death with his breath.
The water held power, she knew that. What kind, she didn’t know. But she would find out.
Xander’s apartment, 4:00 PM September 15
Xander stepped out of his bathroom, water still dripping from his hair. He was quite shocked to find two people sitting in his kitchen.
One he recognized. He was a Watcher, younger than Giles had been, and much more sure of the Council’s abilities. Wesley, Xander thought. It was the other person, a woman, who caught his eye.
She was fairly tall for a woman, with light brown hair and pale blue eyes. She was captivating, her eyes her most noticeable feature. Xander almost forgot he was wearing only a towel.
Almost. Moving without a sound (thanks to being barefoot), he picked up his sword from it’s resting place by his bed.
“What the hell are you doing here!” Xander yelled, his anger readily apparent. The Watcher and the unknown woman jumped, startled. They looked at the young man who held his towel up with one hand and a sword in the other.
“We are here at the behest of the Council...” Wesley began, but silenced quickly when Xander leveled the blade in his direction.
“I thought it was made clear that the Council wasn’t welcome in Sunnydale anymore,” Xander said, his voice cold.
“Things are getting worse, Alexander,” the woman said in an accent he didn’t recognize.
“Call me Xander,” he said, lowering the blade. “How are they getting worse?”
“Portals to the lower planes have been opened around the world,” Wesley said.
“And that means...?” Xander said as he returned his sword to its sheath.
“Stronger demons have been sighted,” the woman said.
“Tell ya what,” Xander began. “We are going to take a walk so my friends can hear what you have to say. But first, wait outside. I need to get dressed.”
A short while later...
Wesley sat across from the table from Oz, Willow, and Xander. The woman stood a short distance behind him. The short drive over hadn’t offered any more information about the portals, Wesley preferring to say everything at once.
“...and so more and more demons from the lower plans have been flooding the world. The exact numbers are uncertain, but I am sure that...” Wesley droned before Oz held up hand to stop him.
“All right, so demons are getting loose,” Oz said calmly. “Why haven’t we seen it here, and what can we do about it?”
“Well, it is believed that the Hellmouth, being the largest of the portals to reach the lowest levels of Hell, is simply better sealed. It might not have opened yet.” Wesley answered. He would have continued, but Willow jumped in.
“Why did you come back?” she asked.
“I was sent here by the Council,” Wesley said simply.
“Why?” Oz asked again.
“Because the Hellmouth needs a Slayer,” Wesley said. “Meet Alyssa de’Arimmia.”
The three friends raised a skeptical eye at the young slayer. To her credit, the slayer merely returned their gazes, each in turn.
“I know that this is much to dangerous for a slayer alone, which is why I sought out Xander,” the Watcher began. “I hoped that he would be the most willing to help us.”
“We don’t really have a choice,” Oz said, rising from the table. Willow and Xander rose as well, Willow slinging her spell pouches about her person, and Xander strapping his sheathed blade to his belt.
“Where are you going?” Wesley asked?
Looking at the window, Oz answered. “It’s nightfall. We hunt.”
Wesley stood up and began to babble off instructions. “I think that a basic parameter sweep would be...”
“Shut up,” Xander spat out. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Willow. “How do you want to run this?”
“I’ll stay here and do some reading,” she said. “Oz, you might as well hang around the Bronze, take out anything that shows up.”
“I don’t think...” Wesley began, trying to assume authority.
“You were told to shut up,” Oz reminded the Watcher before turning to Alyssa. “You have a choice. Leave now, or hang around and learn something.”
“I’m in,” she said quickly.
“Good,” Oz said. “You and Xander check out the Hellmouth. Xander, make sure you point out some of the demon holes on your way over.”
“Should I take the scenic route there, or on the way back?” Xander asked as he grabbed some stakes from a chest against the wall.
“Good question. Will?” Oz said, raising his voice so she could hear him in the small library.
“Get there quick, and take your time on the way back, if you can,” came the reply from the other room.
“Now just wait a second here!” Wesley yelled, his face red from embarrassment. “You have no right...”
“No,” Xander interrupted. “You have no right. We have held our own for almost a year without a Slayer, and almost as long without a Watcher’s presence. We would welcome your help, even if you’re not half the man Giles was. Now you have a choice. Help Wil with the research, or leave. You’re slayer has already chosen. Your turn.”
Wesley stammered for a few moments, surprised by the venom in Xander’s voice. Finally he nodded his head weakly and went to join Willow.
Turning to the slayer, Xander smiled. “Let’s go.”
Meanwhile...
Buffy tossed the remains of her meal against the wall, pleased by the snapping of bones and the tearing of flesh. It would take more than one human to sate her thirst.
As she looked around for another victim, she sensed something in the air. Something charged with power. It took her a moment to figure out what she was feeling.
Another Slayer had come to Sunnydale.
With a wicked grin, Buffy began to hunt.
An hour later...
Xander carefully picked his way around the rubble that used to be his high school. He always wondered why it was never rebuilt, and why the rubble was never cleared away. Maybe it had something to do with the evil he felt. It was like a living, breathing thing. Shuddering, he turned to the Slayer.
“The Hellmouth is right past this,” he said, indicating a fairly large pile of debris. “How are you doing?”
The new slayer simply shrugged, her attention not on him or the surroundings. Xander took this opportunity to look at Alyssa. Her long limbs were balanced by her soft curves. She seemed far to innocent for her calling. Even Buffy wasn’t innocent, Xander thought idly.
A low growl woke both Alyssa and Xander from their thoughts. The slayer, who possessed far greater reflexes than Xander, had her stake drawn and faced the noise first. To his credit, Xander had his blade drawn a second later, his eyes darting around.
Alyssa caught sight of a small, rust colored creature darting from one pile of rubble to another. Unsure of what to do, she moved closer to Xander and pointed in the direction she had last seen the creature.
Xander had already caught sight of two more of the small creatures. He noticed the small horns and the thin blades they carried. The faces were dominated by muzzles, giving the creatures dog-like countenances.
“I think we had better leave,” Xander said softly, motioning Alyssa to go behind him. She nodded once and crept silently back the way they had come.
They moved slowly, trying no to alert the creatures. But Xander’s weight caused a few rocks to shift and clatter loudly. It was answered almost instantly by many yipping noises.
“Go,” Xander said as he broke into a quick sprint, all pretense of silence abandoned. Alyssa, faster than Xander, made it past the parking lot before the first of the creatures could be seen. Xander leaped over a small pile and moved as fast as he could.
“Go!” He yelled at the slayer, urging her on. Two of the small dogmen closed in on Xander as Alyssa opened a car that was parked not far from him.
“Damn!” Xander cried. “This things smell horrible!” He brought his blade around quickly, forcing the two creatures to dodge back or be cut in half. The both stood under five feet tall, and wore tattered rags for clothing. Both carried thin swords about two feet in length.
Xander kept swinging his blade while he hustled towards the slayer. He muttered a quick thanks when he heard the engine roar to life behind him. His mind raced. He needed to get rid of these things and get out of here. Not sure if he could even hurt them, he merely swung his blade back and forth, buying time to think.
“Just kill the bloody things!” came a cry from behind him. He recognized the voice, the rich english accent hard to forget. It can’t be.
Xander, heeding the call, thrust forward suddenly. One of the two things was run through, half of Xander’s blade protruding from it’s back. The second, it’s moral broken, fled.
Xander shook his head in disgust as he tore the sword from the creature’s body. When he turned from the corpse, the person he saw in the driver’s seat almost made him drop his sword.
“Spike!?”
Meanwhile, at the Master’s old haunt
Buffy grined wickedly as she pranced around the cavern. Spike’s return from death was a shock, but when she listened to him, she had almost laughed aloud. The fool was human!
“Things are getting Hellmouth-y again,” she said, using a phrase used often during her life. Before, it was a line of resignation, but now....
The vampiress’s face was split into a smile so evil, even her small band of followers shuddered.