Finally – after what seemed like an eternity of effort – she arrived in the back-alley. Her beautiful childe’s dark eyes looked up at her, beseeching her, begging her to save him. Her demon snarled in response, baring her fangs as she faced his kidnapper.

It was Thanos and not. She recognized his gaunt features, pale skin, and dark hair. But this Thanos was more far-gone than any she’d seen. His body was skeletally thin, and his eyes burned with the red fires of hell, and an old-fashioned black robe adorned his shoulders. The Specter Of Death, the enemy they’d all escaped so long ago and had fled from ever since.

He looked up at her and grinned, his mouth full of needle-like fangs, and then the blade of his scythe slashed down. She barely had time to scream out before Parker was crumbling to dust.

And then – for a second – she would’ve sworn that it wasn’t Parker he held. It was Spike. Blue eyes looking up at her in horror.

And then she realized that Spike wasn’t the one crumbling to dust; she was. Somehow she’d managed to see things backwards, and she was the one whose throat Thanos had slit. She was crumbling away, dying. She looked up one last time.

No, wait, it was Spike dusting after all. It was both of them. One, the other, no Parker, no…
 

With a start, Buffy woke from the nightmare, her agitated mind trying to untwist the images, make sense of them. Her entire being tensed with terror, all the more because she couldn’t decipher just what had happened. Who had dusted? Had it been her or Parker or Spike? The question was filled with horrible, intense meaning as so many vagaries of bad dreams did, and she struggled with it, trying to remember.

And then it slowly began to sink in that it all had been a dream. Nothing important in the long run. This fear was just a ghost of her subconscious. But somehow knowing that didn’t make the lingering fear any less.

Groggily, she rose, still hot from the afternoon sun. There was no outlet to this fissure she was trapped in, and during the day the temperature had rose within, the heat building like in an oven. Buffy remembered hearing one time that deserts could get as hot as 120° F. To a vampire who liked things cool and damp, it felt ten times that right now.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to get up and reassess her situation. The angle of the sun was lower now, and it no longer entered the cavern directly. She’d survived the day, then; whoever had put her here hadn’t meant for her to die. Unless… She shuddered. Unless they planned to leave her here to starve in the heat until stepping out into the sunlight seemed like a welcome release.

Even as she cast such morbid thoughts aside, the imperative to get out of here became almost overwhelming. And there was no reason she couldn’t start her climb now. It was safe, if uncomfortable.

Muscles protesting, she began to crawl her way up the stone walls, relying only on the strength of her hands to pull her up further when the overhangs caused her to dangle in mid-air. Just keep going up. That’s all that matters. Head right for that sunny opening overhead. Er…okay, bad imagery. Don’t think about the sun. Just get out…

And, for a while, she’d actually thought it would work. Escape was so close; she was on a ledge only twenty feet below the entrance, and she reached for the walls eagerly…

Only to hiss back in pain as her flesh burned and melted.

She started down at her hands for a minute, confused, until it finally dawned on her. Some sick bastard had painted the walls with holy water. Her heart sank when she realized that, no, there was no way she could escape this place.

The image of her trapped, starving, driven mad to the point where she met the daylight, came back to her, and she shivered despite the heat. Oh god, please no…

Cyril hung limp on the wall, his body looking completely dead and emaciated. The only signs that any life had ever been in him were the two bite-marks on either side of his throat from which all of his strength had been drained.

“I could make it quick and painless,” Dru sing-songed, sharp nails raking over his chest just enough to leave bluish welts in their wake. The pain was all the demon’s now, not the blood of whatever humans he’d fed upon.

Thanos turned his head away.

With a growl, Spike snapped his wrist, causing the other vampire to hiss in pain. “Pay attention,” he ordered gruffly.

“Our girl in exchange for an end to your boy’s suffering,” Drusilla offered once more.

Thanos’ teeth clenched as he took several deep breaths, willing away the pain in his arm and in his side where Spike had stabbed him earlier. “They’ll never accept you now,” he insisted, sticking to his only means of attack. “Even if you dust us both, the Order will know, and they’ll never let you rule them, never let you come back…”

Drusilla sighed. “Never is such a very long time,” she whispered softly. “Few – if any – live to see it…”

“Let us go now,” Thanos insisted, “and my offer remains. You can rule as my second.”

Spike snorted.

“Why would I ever want to rule as your second?” Dru asked in disbelief. “I could have had it all, you know.” She twirled on her toes, her skirts fanning out about her, and came to a halt before Thanos. Her fingers played lightly with the black of his hair. “You knew I would defeat you. Why else play all the games?”

“You might have won,” he countered with a sneer.

“Might, might… I would,” Dru insisted vehemently. “But then you forced me to make an ugly little choice.” Her eyes flashed yellow for one second. “You and your Order,” she practically spat the word, “are nothing compared to my girl. My William. My family…”

Spike looked at her in surprise, about to speak, but now wasn’t the time to have a little heart-to-heart.

“So, ‘ve made my bed and I’ll sleep in it,” she concluded, looking Thanos in the eye. “I don’t care anymore, you see. I don’t care about anything you have except the childe you stole…”

Thanos gulped. There was deadly intensity in her eyes for the first time. And he belatedly realized he didn’t have any bargaining chips. Except that location…

“Yes,” Dru agreed lazily, hypnotically, “look into my eyes, see the truth within…”

As soon as she said it, some part of Thanos’ mind realized it was a bad idea. But even as he tried to turn his head away, she caught his chin roughly, jerking his head so that he faced her once more. And as much as he would’ve liked just not to look, there was no escaping those endless dark pools…

Spike tensed as he watched. He knew disturbing Dru would only delay finding out where Buffy was, but the urge to pester her whether she’d found that vital piece of information yet was almost unbearable.

Thanos, for his part, had broken into a cold sweat. His pupils had contracted to tiny pinpricks, and his entire face seemed to go slack. But, amazingly, he still managed to keep that look of horror on his face.

And, in that one moment, Spike envied him. Because this was one part of Dru he’d never share. She could go into his mind, true, see everything inside him. But his own mental abilities would never be enough to return the favor. If he could, however, he had no doubt that where Thanos saw horror, he’d see only endless beauty…

“My sweet boy.”

Spike started when Dru patted him gently on the cheek. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t even noticed when she and Thanos broke apart. Or maybe it was this thick telepathic haze that seemed to float in the air, making everything fuzzy and slow.

“You know where she is?” he asked, having to wet his lips before he could speak.

“I know all…” Drusilla agreed. She turned back to their foe. “You tried to take what’s mine,” she informed him coldly. “For that, I should kill you.”

“I-I could’ve lied!” Thanos insisted desperately. “You need me alive just in case I—”

“No, you couldn’t,” Dru corrected him, tisking. “I know all. But I won’t kill you.”

A gasp of relief raked through Thanos’ body. Gone, in these frazzled moments where his mind was still not wholly his, was the arrogant overlord who would’ve conquered them all.

“As I said,” Dru went on, “you tried to take what’s mine. You failed. But you did take what is my childe’s…”

Spike grinned wickedly, and for one second Thanos would’ve sworn he saw the specter of death in the younger vampire’s visage. And then he saw nothing at all because his body was disintegrating, collapsing in on itself. For one moment, he was still conscious and aware when he realized his eyes had crumbled to dust. He would’ve screamed, but his throat was already gone. And then, thankfully, blessedly, his mind was gone as well.

Spike only had a few seconds to savor the kill, however, before a horrendous shriek rose from Cyril across the room. He turned and shuttered. He wouldn’t have guessed the beaten husk of Thanos’ childe would still have the strength to cry out, and the image was ghastly and more than a little disturbing.

“We must leave this place quickly,” Drusilla announced, rising to her feet. “Soon, all will know what we’ve done.”

They left Cyril to his wailing and rushed to the door. There they were met with two of Thanos’ growling, recently-orphaned childer.

“Your brother’s makin’ a godawful racket,” Spike quickly began talking. “Best come in and calm him down.”

The two childer were startled by the sudden invitation and fell through the barrier. There was a risk in that moment, that they would attack Spike and Dru and delay their departure long enough to bring down the mob upon them. But, more than anything, Thanos’ childer needed to see for their own eyes what their demons were already screaming to them. They rushed by the elder pair without pausing.

Spike and Dru emerged into the hallway to find Xander and Harmony.

Xander leapt up as if he’d almost given up on waiting for them and half shoved Harmony through the door. “Go help them,” he insisted with such authority that she didn’t even think to question. She still had no clue what was going on. Good. Xander turned back to Spike and Dru. “This way.”

They entered an almost invisible door at the end of the hallway, so precisely cut that the opening was barely visible even to preternatural eyes. A servant’s entrance of sorts. The sort of thing Xander would know about and all the Masters of the Order would turn their noses up at. Fortunately, Spike and Dru weren’t half as snooty as most of the vampires there.

They hurried through the dark, winding passageways. Through slaughter-rooms and prison cells lined with unfortunate mortals. Through ancient libraries and endless shelves of mystical artifacts. And through one room lined with boxes of Hostess snacks, a brand that had been extinct for almost seventy years now, though its Twinkies seemed to be living on into eternity. Spike decided not to ask.

The run through the bowels of the Sanctuary really took less than a minute, although to those with super-speed, it felt longer. Just as they arrived at the final door, loud shouts began sounding throughout the walls.

“We’ve been found out…” Drusilla whispered.

Xander unlocked the door with a key from the large ring he kept in his pocket. “They won’t catch you.” He threw open the door and there, in the small rocky cavern, was a transport with full hover capability. “We’re at the back entrance. It takes about ten minutes to get here from the front. So, go quickly.”

“Not coming with us, mate?” Spike raised one eyebrow.

Xander just grinned. “I was just the innocent errand boy sitting outside,” he pointed out. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss all the fun.”

Spike grinned as well and ran for the craft. Dru paused long enough to give Xander one last pat on the cheek, and then she was gone as well after her childe.

“We appear to be outlaws once more, my love,” she commented as she sat beside Spike in the front of the transport. He took off, and they flew out into the late afternoon sun, the magical tint of the windows protecting them from the last deadly rays of daylight.

His elated expression faded again. “’m sorry. Again.”

She just chuckled. “Just the way you like it,” she teased.

“Yeah, but I know those tossers mean somethin’ to you. Hell, you practically ruled them all.”

She sighed. “Some things are more important,” she concluded. “And there are some things,” she nibbled on his ear, “that I would not sacrifice for all the power in the world…”

He kissed then, hard, passionately. The transport swerved dangerously, and he turned back to the wheel. “Later,” he promised.

Her eyes sparkled. “I can’t hardly wait…”

There was some part of Xander’s demon that would never tire of chaos and bloodshed. After nearly ten minutes of screams of bloody murder, Thanos’ two healthy childer had finally convinced the Council to disengage the invite barrier for the door to Heinrich’s line. It was only a temporary measure, and Caleigh had graciously allowed the few remaining line members the sanctuary of her own rooms.

Spike and Dru’s old room was quickly crowded with every busy-bodied vampire that could fit into the suddenly cramped space. The ashes and Cyril’s mangled body told the story only too well.

Dalton, acting quite astonished, made his pronouncement. “It is clear that Drusilla has violated all laws of succession. She has hereby given up her right to challenge for the high throne.” He shook his head sadly. “Such a terrible tragedy, both of them gone…” No one ever thought to give Dalton credit for being a damn good actor.

Thanos’ brood, seeking revenge, of course searched the entire Sanctuary for the missing attackers, but neither hide nor hair of Spike and Dru could be found. Xander was almost sure he saw Dalton give him a little wink.

That blood sport taken from them, they raced out into the evening. Xander didn’t bother to follow that chase; he knew they were too late to find their quarries. Besides, the second branch of the hunt was becoming much more interesting…

“The Old Ways are being cast aside, disgraced by those who think themselves too powerful for punishment.” One of Thanos’ childer was starting up quite a little inquisition. Cyril had been returned to their chambers only minutes before with enough blood to, hopefully, revive his strength. “I say we burn the traitors out!”

Shouts and jeers from the audience.

Xander just shook his head as Cassandra was brought forward. The vampiress’ use as a political pawn was over, and she was being cast aside for the greater cause. Xander was willing to bet that Thanos Junior there was going to try to milk his adherence to the old customs to try to drum up support for his own bid for the throne. So tried, so predictable, so boring. Too bad all the interesting vampires inevitably ended up banished…

Cassandra tried to shriek, to name Thanos and his followers among the guilty, but they’d gagged her in anticipation. The pyre in the center of the Great Hall was alight now, and with a final roar of victory, Cassandra was shoved into the flames and was no more.

And it was at this fevered pitch, when Thanos’ childer seemed at their most victorious, that Caleigh suddenly leapt into the scene. Interesting. And, actually, kind of amusing that she’d waited until Cassandra was dust first. Apparently, no one had liked that old hag so much as needed her support.

“We are not savage monsters!” Caleigh screamed over the din and the protests of Thanos’ childer. “Not mere common demons. We are the Golden Order, and we will not subject ourselves to those of low, common blood.”

The crowd was caught in her spell now, their shouts that Thanos’ heir be their new king silenced.

“We will continue as the Order has always done,” she insisted. “In absence of a monarch, the Council decrees the laws of succession.”

And there was Dalton, as if waiting for that cue, standing beside Caleigh now on the platform beside the pyre. “The proper procedures must be followed, of course,” he agreed. “With all the remaining challengers removed from the arena, well… We’ll simply have to start at the beginning.”

Disappointed and annoyed remarks, but the crowd quieted, set once again upon being the ‘superiors’ of the vampire race.

And Xander watched Caleigh’s smile and frowned, noticed that Dalton’s eyes were less shifty and nervous than usual. And he couldn’t help wondering if there was something here he was missing…

Buffy had clung to life. And, even if she died here and no one else knew it, she at least had that last moment of pride to cling to.

The sun was gone now, and her entire body practically wept with relief. She was still trapped on that ledge as she watched the stars come, as she let the cool night air finally wash over her. So peaceful, so still…

At home.

Her demon breathed with relief at the thought. It also raged, but she tamped it down now. There was nothing she could do for Dru or Spike. Absolutely nothing. She was too late; it was done with; it was over. And there was some relief in that as well. There was only herself now, and her will to exist, to go on despite it all.

She tore at her shirt, pulling off her sleeves, wrapping the fabric around her hands. It was only a small protection, but it was enough for her to touch the rock face. The tips of her fingers still burned – were probably burning away – and her grip slipped over and over again, but she kept trying.

Sixth try she finally made a small ledge only fifteen feet below the opening. Enough to jump? She looked at the chasm below, gulped, and prepared to do so.

She thought she was imagining the quiet hum of engines at first. But then she saw a flash of light – not the sun, but those headlights that night-blind humans had forced upon on vehicles. She should’ve jumped then. After all, it could be Thanos and his goons back to finish her off. If she made it, she could run into the desert and…

She didn’t jump.

Strange knowledge filled her as the transport came to a halt over the cave entrance. She just knew who was inside, even if it was impossible. One of the side doors opened, and a rope dropped down. The light was in her eyes, so she couldn’t see them the way the obviously saw her. She climbed anyway. She was certain now. More certain with each foot she ascended, until finally she was in her grandsire’s arms, and they were driving away into the night…

It had only taken one night. Most of the previous round’s challengers had been too damaged to challenge once more, after all. The final bloody battle had been between Caleigh and Thanos’ last childe. And, oh, had it been bloody.

Roars and applause followed the victor’s ascent to the podium. And Xander couldn’t help but applaud as well. Eliminated in the first round the first time to winning it all the second. Quite a step up…

Dalton rose and offered their new leader the ring and dagger of kingship. “Behold, our new ruler!” he shouted above the din. Quite an impressive feat for the normally meek vampire. And then quieter, lips bent over their sovereign’s hand, he whispered another message so quiet that only Xander was close enough to hear it. “My sire…”

Caleigh grinned and turned back to the crowd, sitting on the throne for the first time.

And, amidst the applause, Xander turned to Dalton suspiciously. You planned this all along, he accused the new Council leader with a look.

Dalton merely shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. After all, who could blame him for picking a queen he finally wouldn’t feel the need to cower in terror from? And who wouldn’t risk all to grant this honor to his maker?

Xander had to admit, they could do a lot worse.