A finger slid across her cheek and lifted away at her chin. That was the first conscious thought she had. She murmured softly, turning her head towards the touch. Heavy lids fluttered softly. Slowly, trying to pull herself from a heavy sleep, she opened her eyes. Sedate limbs refused to move at will, until she put deliberate thought into the action.
"Where am I?" she asked softly, drawing her hand up to meet her aching head.
"Shhh, lay still," a gently, caressing voice replied.
"Who are you?" Buffy asked, fear beginning to ebb in her voice.
A face moved into her field of vision and she pulled back, pressing herself farther into the leather couch she lay on. “A high-ranking member of the Council, if you’d like,” a man answered coyly.
"No," she whimpered softly, recognizing the darkly handsome face of Evan Darius.
"You must not struggle," he said, his voice too soothing.
"My head," she cried softly, "it hurts."
He lifted a hand, running it softly over her hair. "It will end soon."
Her groggy eyes shifted about the room, finally fixing on her captor. "What do you want? Why am I here?"
"You will learn soon enough," he replied cryptically, admiring her closely. "Your beauty rivals those who came before you."
Liquid, confused eyes locked onto his. "I don't understand. Who are you talking about?" she whimpered. Finally, comprehension flickered briefly across her face. "The other Slayers?"
Affirmation flashed in Evan's dark eyes, and he nodded slightly. "You're beginning to remember."
Finally, after conserving enough strength, Buffy attempted to sit up. She braced her hands against the leather couch, and slowly pushed herself up. Evan Darius lay a hand gently on her back as she sat up. "You look so familiar," she said deliriously.
"Yes," Evan smiled in response. "They knew me, just as you will know me. Only," he paused, his dark, hypnotic eyes searching hers, "you are different. You will set a precedent. You will be the one to turn the tide. I have waited for a long time. . .watched each Slayer from my position. I admit, I believed you were not the right one. Now, my opinion has changed."
"I don't understand," she responded.
"You will," Evan replied, smiling strangely.
***
"Giles!" Spike shouted, rushing into the magic store. "Dammit, where are you?"
The Watcher rushed through a door, stopping before Spike. "Spike, what are you doing here? You're not welcome here," he seethed.
"I don't have time for this," Spike insisted. "Buffy's been taken."
"What?" Giles nearly yelled, accusing eyes stabbing at the vampire.
"That mobster bloke," Spike explained, "he carried her out to his car. They just sped away."
"Evan Darius?" Giles repeated, as though the idea were unthinkable, "he's a high ranking member of the Council."
"I'm beginning to think he's running his own show," Spike said.
Giles sighed, rubbing his tense brow, "What do you mean?"
"The man grilled me. Wanted to know the Slayer's weaknesses," Spike replied.
Giles turned to face Spike, his eyes narrowing. "And did you tell him anything?"
Spike stepped back slightly, "Nothing too revealing."
"For your sake, you'd better be right," Giles threatened. "Now, where did they go?"
"I'm not sure," Spike admitted, "but I have an idea who your so-called Council member is."
Exasperation filled Giles' face. "Then for God sakes man, who?"
"You won't find him in any books," Spike stated, gesturing towards the Watcher records lying atop the nearby table, "because he's been careful to erase his identity."
"I don't understand," Giles said.
"Evan Darius has been around a lot longer than you may realize," Spike replied, his eyes locking firmly onto the Watcher.
***
Initially, his plans involved the death of the Slayer. But now, the plans had changed. He had realized that when he first met her. She was different from the other Slayers. The others before her had been disconnected from the world. They had understood their roles and never truly strayed from the calling. But this one. She was different. She had a certain vulnerability. A weakness. She was tied to the mortal world unlike the others. This Slayer had a unique affection for the world around her. That connection had recently been tested, and was nearly shorn. But despite the pain in her recent past, she had soared above her trials and come out on top. She had proven her worthiness in that difficult time.
No, he wouldn't endorse her death. He had much larger plans for her now. She would fulfill everything he had searched for. A searched that had spanned far too long. She would be the salvation he had been searching for.
Evan Darius smiled, glancing over at the sedated Slayer. Her hair spilled over a pillow as she lay asleep in a bed. Now, he could understand why she had lasted so long. Why so many had fallen around her. Why so many had been enticed by this worldly angel. So worthy, he thought.
***
"Whatever information you have on this man, I want it now," Giles said firmly, glancing over at Spike with a scrutinizing gaze.
"I didn't know who he was at first," Spike began. "Let's just say he's not officially talked about in the vampire world. There's only a mutter here, a mutter there."
"Dammit, get to the point!" Giles shouted, frustration impeding his patience.
Spike nodded, throwing Giles a dark glance before continuing. "He's been around for nearly two millennia. Possibly more."
"Is he a demon? A vampire?" Giles asked.
"No one really knows," Spike admitted, perching himself on the edge of the table. "As I said, not a lot is known."
"What else?" the Watcher prompted.
"He was once mortal. But, as to how he. . .changed, no one knows," Spike replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"How did you identify him?" Giles asked, removing his glasses in deep thought.
"Let's just say I know. He doesn't exactly carry around a business card. But he does carry a lot of power. Tickles the spidey senses. That was one indication," Spike said, reflecting darkly on the confrontation.
"And the other?" Giles said.
"I've seen him before," the vampire replied strangely. "He's been after other Slayers."
"Go on," Giles urged, clearly intrigued.
"Don't get me wrong, he's not collecting gold stars for every dead Slayer. That's too meager for him," Spike said dramatically, rolling his eyes. "He's been watching them all very closely."
"Why?" the Watcher asked.
Spike turned to Giles, looking him candidly in the eye. "Beats the hell out of me."
Giles shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe there's been no mention of such an individual. Surely, the Council has something. . ."
"Like I said, he's very good at covering his tracks. And on the topic of the Council. . .perhaps you shouldn't place too much of your trust in that pathetic institution. I've heard he has some pull with them."
"I must speak with the Council immediately," Giles stated, determination filling his concerned eyes.
"For God's sake man, are you not listening? If you contact them, he's gonna find out soon enough. As I said, he's careful to erase his trail, if you get what I mean," Spike responded, his voice carrying a solemn tone.
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Giles asked, throwing his arms up in frustration.
Spike glanced back at the door for a second, thinking carefully, before turning back to Buffy's Watcher. "Leave that to me," he announced.
"What do you mean?" Giles asked suspiciously.
"I'll find him," Spike said firmly.
"And how are you going to find him?" Giles shouted.
"Believe me, I have my ways," Spike shot him an angry glance.
"And why should I believe that you'll rescue Buffy and not ally yourself with Darius?" the Watcher grilled.
"It may be hard for you to accept," Spike seethed, "but I actually have feelings for your Slayer. Sure, we've had our little spat here and there, but she's changed me."
"For your sake, you had better be right," Giles warned.
"Watch and see," Spike replied coldly, heading for the door.
***
He ran his fingers over the intricately decorated armor, pausing a moment to allow himself an indulgence. Distant memories of a time long ago began to seep back into his mind. He could still remember how the armor felt. The feeling, just before battle, of fortitude, strength, and honor. Too bad times had changed. He would have given anything to return to that time. The time when he was perpetuating the most influential Empire in all of history. Slowly, Darius pulled himself away from the relic, tucking away the memories of his service in the Roman army.
He turned, hearing a soft moan behind him, and found the Slayer had awaken. Still sedated, her movements were limited, and she would remain confined to this property until he chose otherwise.
"Good morning," he said, his rich voice echoing throughout the large chamber.
Buffy winced as she sat up in bed, lifting a hand to her throbbing head. She eyed her captor with suspicious eyes.
He moved towards a cabinet, pausing to pour a glass of water from the waiting pitcher, before stepping towards the groggy Slayer. He extended his arm, offering the drink. She studied him carefully for a moment before reluctantly accepting the drink.
"Why am I still here?" she asked coldly.
"I am truly sorry for the inconvenience," Darius replied, seating himself at her bedside, and watching her casually.
"Then let me go," she pleaded softly, searching his dark eyes for mercy.
Darius lowered his head in regret. "I'm sorry, I cannot."
"Tell me what you want. Tell me what I'm supposed to do," Buffy said, her voice rising.
Darius' gaze shifted away from her, and he stared out the window with a faraway look in his eyes. "I spent so long searching. Every time I found a Slayer, it was the same. Never the right one. Until. . ." he glanced back at her. His dark, consuming eyes stirred something inside of her. "You are different from all those that came before you. You care about the world around you. You care about humanity. You're not merely here to slay. . .you're here to love."
Buffy watched Darius with troubled eyes.
"I have sinned throughout my existence. I have brought death to many, all in the name of my own cause. It was sin which first cursed me. Which took away my mortality and burdened me with eternity. I've grown weary of this existence," Evan said, saddened eyes locking onto Buffy's.
"You say you've killed others. Did you kill Slayers?" Buffy asked bluntly.
Darius nodded slowly, a haunted expression filling his face. "I wanted to hasten the coming of the right one. I thought that by. . .quickening the fate of each Slayer, I would find the right one sooner."
Buffy glanced around nervously, fidgeting as she thought over his words. "And. . .this 'right one' is me?" she asked uncomfortably.
He closed a hand over hers, and fixed his eyes onto hers. "I believe so," he replied.
"I don't understand. What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know," Evan replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face gently. "I was hoping you would know."
***
Sadness. Deep, overwhelming sorrow. The emotion ebbed at her mind ceaselessly, like a wave lapping onto a shoreline. She started to search her own mind, trying to find its source. But as she delved further and further into her own thoughts, she realized the emotions were not her own. They would never be her own. She had experienced loss before, but never to this intensity. Never to this extent. It was so vast, she marveled at how anyone could possible retain in.
But somehow, over the centuries, over the millennia, Evan Darius had managed to endure. He had been plagued with the constant reminder of his sins. So great was the pain, that he would have done anything to make it stop. Anything. But the course of his long history was a viscous circle. Violence had begotten pain, pain had begotten violence. It seemed nothing would ever sever the cycle. Nothing would make his torture end.
***
Spike raced against time. It had been days since he had witnessed Buffy's abduction by the stranger. With only his instincts to guide him, he had managed to trace her route northward, toward Los Angeles. Druscilla had once belittled him over such a thing - to be half a world apart, and still be able to sense her. Her existence was so deeply engrained within him, he would eventually find her. He would. He had to. There had been a time, not too long ago, when he had held her in his arms. The memory was so powerful. It was what gave him strength now. What drove him in his quest.
