But Buffy only spared Harmony a few seconds attention. She was vaguely aware that the blonde and Xander were following after her at a respectful distance, but they seemed insignificant in lieu of the sight before her.

She’d half believed this was some hoax as their transport veered off into the deserts. These weren’t the deserts she’d seen from all those nature specials, though. Instead of the endless dunes of sand so stereotyped with the Sahara, this region was rocky, full of sharp ravines and rockslides. The earth had an odd dark brown color which, to Buffy, suddenly felt drier than any sand dunes she’d ever seen. Because once these wadis must’ve been filled with flowing rivers – it was really the only natural occurrence that could account for such formations – but now they were bone dry.

Their transport had made almost painfully slow progress at that point. The canyon walls were narrow to the point of claustrophobia at times, and Buffy was just thankful their transport had hover capability. The ground was so rough, she doubted even a tank would be able to negotiate it. As it was, the ride was still plenty bumpy, the irregular ground reeking havoc on the transport’s altimeter. Maybe they should’ve brought in a helicopter…

She’d suspected betrayal at first. But then, as they went on and on and no one made a move, she relaxed again. If they’d wanted her dead, they could’ve done it hours ago. One quick throw into the hot desert sun, and she’d have been a goner. But it seemed so impossible that anything could exist this far from life.

When they finally came to a halt, the sun had just set. They disembarked at yet another indistinct fork in the canyon, and Buffy hoped to god that they didn’t expect her to walk far. But then, she figured Harmony would be even less likely to take a hike in the desert, so whatever they were seeking must’ve been close…

Paradoxical, in this wasteland.

The transport took off as soon as the three of them stood on the rough ground, and Buffy watched it go wistfully.

“This way.” Xander gestured to one of the ravines.

Following him with more conviction than she felt, Buffy rounded a sharp edge in the sheer-cut cliffs and…

Gasped.

“What is that?” she breathed in surprise, feeling the soft magic as it tangled around her, probing and exploring lightly, but ultimately doing no harm.

“It’s, like, camouflage. The Mages do it so that no one who doesn’t belong can find this place,” Harmony spoke, her voice unusually quiet. “Pervs.”

Buffy had to admit it did feel a bit like being felt up, but then she was past the mystical barrier, and it was like a fog passed from before her eyes. The desert cliffs shimmered like a mirage before solidifying to form a huge temple façade that rose almost to the very peaks of the cliffs.

“Wow…”

“Welcome to the Sanctuary of the Order of Aurelius,” Xander gestured for her to proceed him.

“How did they—?” she began, curious and astonished, but the look on Xander’s face made it all too clear that he was to be silent for the remainder of this journey.

And, despite the questions bubbling up inside her, Buffy could live with that for the moment. She had enough on her mind just absorbing the sight before her.

Columns wider than she was tall rose over fifty feet. Gleaming white pillars that she thought might’ve been made of marble. How they got out this far from civilization was anyone’s guess. The columns were topped with a large granite slab that formed a covering for the path leading up to the main temple.

Buffy walked slowly up the column-lined path, marveling at how it just seemed to go on and on. Whoever had made this place had definitely been trying to impress the bejesus out of all visitors. Each column was fluted straight up to the top, and the capitals were surrounded by carvings of rosettes and lotuses, all brilliantly painted with bright primary colors.

Perhaps the color was the most astonishing part to her. Because she’d visited plenty of old tourist attractions in her day. The Parthenon, the Colosseum, Karnak, and a whole bunch of other old stuff that Spike seemed to find endlessly fascinating. That wasn’t new to her. But to see it all painted in such rich color, like it would’ve been thousands of years before… It felt almost like stepping back through time.

Buffy’s slow procession up the path finally came to an end in doors well over ten feet tall. More gates than doors, really, made out of some shiny black material. Ebony? She didn’t think that could be used for such a massive gate. But she had no better clue as to what they might be made of. The hinges were wrought iron and contained the same pattern of flowers and ancient designs the exterior did.

It was an imposing door, and Buffy wondered whether even her vampire strength would be enough to move its weight. But that seemed to be unnecessary, for as soon as she climbed the five steps leading to the door, it began to swing slowly inward on its hinges, admitting her to the inner sanctuary.

She shivered as a breath of cool air rushed from the opening door. It was black within, almost like the mouth of some primeval beast. One of the demons of old that she’d read about. A nervous gulp, and she stepped inside, Xander and Harmony following her like two silent shadows.

The door shut behind her as doors always do in creepy circumstances. She’d half been expecting it, but she still found it alarming. Especially since there was no one pushing the door from the inside, either. That either meant there was some unseen mechanical mechanism, or the door opened through magic. Given the feeling of age around this place, Buffy guessed it was the latter.

The inside wasn’t so dark as she would’ve at first expected. The light was dim and, astonishingly, seemed to be electric. Small lights, their bulbs shaped to imitate torches, lined the cavernous room just above human height. A ring of soft light, their illumination dim.

Designed for vampire eyes, she realized.

And now that she thought about it, she could tell this place had been designed for vampires. There were no windows, no openings in the ceiling. A painted mural of the night sky decorated the over-arching dome above them, welcoming creatures whose home was in the darkness. The perfect Sanctuary…

Xander stepped before her again, grinning at her reaction. Apparently, he’d given up that otherworldly specter act he’d put on outside. “Impressed?”

“Is anyone not?” she countered.

He laughed and led her to a refreshingly human-sized door at one end of the giant atrium. “Welcome home.”

Spike didn’t like any of this. 

First off, he didn’t particularly like the fact that Dru was so enamoured of these wankers in the first place. Dark magic, endless power, blah blah blah. Mostly it only amounted to centuries holed up in this little fort out in the middle of nowhere, scheming against each other and not doing a damn thing that made any impact on the world as a whole. Well, except for the odd occasions where they decided to rile things up by making all their members scamper back home. A power trip, if he’d ever seen one.

But Dru had her sights set, and there was no point in denying her. His girl had always been a bit more impressed by showy displays than he had. Loved the theater and the opera, while Spike just tolerated most of the time. So he could live with the first.

However, what he absolutely didn’t like was that tosser Thanos arranging ‘secret meetings’ with his sire. Thanos was the competition, and Spike didn’t like to leave Dru alone with the man for more than a second, let alone the two hours it had been since they’d vanished into the inner sanctum.

Now, he knew that Thanos would pay a pretty price if he offed Dru without the appropriate challenges. There were rules to the Order’s madness. He’d watched their ‘rules’ in rather vivid technicolor just that afternoon. Two vamps about four centuries apiece had squared off in the Great Hall. Order rules said no dusting, but that hadn’t kept limbs from being ripped from sockets and eyes from being gouged out. Some of the wounds would heal; others probably wouldn’t. The ‘winner’s eye had been mangled enough that even the Mages doubted it would ever work properly again.

But, if Thanos wanted to fight Dru out of the picture, that was the sort of challenge he was going to have to issue. And Drusilla, in all her infamy, was a brutal fighter. Plus, Thanos was just bright enough to realize that these little gladiatorial battles could maim him permanently, even if he did manage to win. Hell, they’d all seen how Heinrich had turned out. Battles before magic had been banned as a weapon often resulted in such gruesome disfigurement. It had almost been the norm for older vampires for a time.

So, fighting Dru was out. Which meant, Spike figured, that Thanos had to have some sneaky, underhanded plot. That was how things were done in ‘civilized’ society, after all. And whatever he had to chat with Dru about in private could only bode ill for his princess.

Not that there was anything Spike could do about it. One disadvantage to being back at the Sanctuary was that he couldn’t show the Order up as much. The Mages’ power could easily reach him here, and he remembered with a shiver the last warning they’d given him. Completely unfair, twisting up the playing field like that. Magic – and its users – always gave him the shivers. So, begrudgingly, he was behaving himself.

Barely.

He’d leaned back against the wall, just out to the reach of the guards who protected the inner sanctum, and watched several of the Order’s little servants clean up the bloody mess of earlier that day. Weak, easily manipulated vampires that the Order could control with an iron fist. Spike wondered whether Xander was in their midst, or if the Order had disposed of him on a whim. He figured it was about even odds either way.

He didn’t see Xander, though, and eventually – and despite his nervousness about what was going on behind that closed door – restlessness overcame him, and he began to wander the halls aimlessly.

He was always disappointed in this place. Sure, it looked impressive enough, with its millennia old architecture, but inside it really was deathly dull. Hundreds of vampires, some human slaves, but not a creature to hunt in the whole place. They were vampires, for crying out loud! They shouldn’t be hemmed up in this safe little city, importing their blood from Europe, and snubbing their noses at all the vamps out in the world who actually bothered to live, rather than cloistering themselves away.

No, Spike didn’t much like anything in this place. In fact, he wanted to leave right now.

He heard his name practically screeched from down the hall and tensed up. Especially right now.

“William, dear,” Cassandra put on a falsely pleasant smile. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Oh?” He looked her up and down incredulously. She was dressed from head to toe in this ridiculous purple gown with silver sequins. Looked liked a television psychic with fangs.

“Drusilla isn’t with you?” she asked, looking around.

“Might be lost somewhere in that bustle of yours,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Mmm?” she asked, blinking at him innocently.

“Dru’s with Thanos,” he answered aloud. “If the guards won’t let me in, you haven’t got a chance in hell.”

“Language,” she snapped automatically. “Mustn’t talk so to a lady.”

Spike let out a bark of laughter and covered it with a cough. “Right. ‘m gone now. Bye.” He made a mad dash for the quarters of Heinrich’s line.

Too little and too late, however.

One beefy hand leaned against the wall, cutting off his route of escape. “It seems you’ve forgotten all your manners,” Cassandra retorted in an icy voice.

“Get bent, Gertrude,” he hissed angrily, eyes flashing golden.

“Is that any way to speak to you elders?” she countered.

He batted her hand away; she caught his wrist in an iron grip in response. He could break it. He was ninety percent sure of that. But beating on Dru’s biggest ally wasn’t going to do his girl any good. And, as much as he wanted Dru to just run off with him yet again, he wasn’t going to sabotage her campaign.

“Let. Go,” he demanded in a tight voice.

She waved one finger at him. “Naughty, naughty.” She gave him an airy laugh.

It sounded like an imitation of Dru’s. An affected notion of madness and true sight. One of dear old ‘Sandy’s favorite acts. It sent shivers down his spine. Dru was the genuine deal, no pretense or fabrication, and he loved her for it. This second-rate hack made his blood boil.

“If you don’t let me go,” he replied with false sweetness, “then ‘ll take your arm right off, and that will be quite naughty of me, indeed.”

Her act dropped at that, and she faced him with narrowed, malevolent eyes. “You do,” she threatened, “and I’ll have the entire Council upon you before you have even a chance to flee.” One finger trailed lightly down the center of his chest. “Oh, it would be such a shame to watch those Mages mutilate this beautiful body of yours. Such a waste… But don’t make the mistake of underestimating me. I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“No doubt,” Spike agreed. “But y’know what?”

“Mmm?” Her hand was slithering into the front of his pants now, and she had him pressed back against the wall. No question what she wanted out of him.

“’d rather be deformed for eternity than ever let you touch me,” he snapped, catching her wandering hand and throwing it away from him.

“Vain boy,” Cassandra hissed, flashing fangs. “I’ll teach you to respect your elders.”

“How?” He raised one skeptical eyebrow. “By sittin’ on me?”

An outraged shriek escaped her lips, and her claws raked across his cheek. He continued to stand there, unimpressed, letting his face bleed like he didn’t feel a thing.

“You think I can’t find someone to challenge you?” she demanded with an evil glint in her eye.

“You think I care where I stand in the pecking order?” He shrugged. “’ll just cede.”

“You may not,” Cassandra retorted haughtily, “but your sire… Oh, she needs me. And I’ll make plenty sure you’re the prize I win for my support.” Her hand caught the back of his neck, pulling him toward her. “Pretty thing…”

“Look out, Spike,” an obviously unamused voice cut in dryly. “What looks to be a large purple jellyfish is trying to engulf you.”

The reaction was more scandalized shrieks and enough of a distraction for Spike to pull far, far away. He looked up, downright flabbergasted by this latest newcomer. “How the bloody hell…?” he breathed in disbelief.

“Who the devil do you think you are?” Cassandra demanded, fangs snapping.

Ignoring her entirely, Buffy strode past her and over to Spike. Her fingers reached up lightly to touch the four red gashes that marred his cheek. She shot a pointed look back at the woman, who really was shaped remarkably like a large jellyfish, and licked the blood from Spike’s cheek with short little laps against his salty skin.

“Can’t I leave you for two weeks without you getting yourself into trouble?” she asked, the words teasing, even though her eyes showed little humor.

“Luv,” he purred. “How can you be here?”

“Indeed,” Cassandra snapped, deciphering the mystery of Buffy’s identity quickly enough. It was impossible to mistake the scent of childe and sire. “You aren’t allowed here, little girl,” she insisted.

“Er…actually…” Xander raised one sheepish hand. Cassandra turned on him with disbelieving eyes, and he shrugged.

“You remember the slayer?” Buffy turned her attention back to Spike. Strange how it felt like so much more separated them now than just a couple of weeks apart. Like she’d lived lifetimes in the interval, so that his face, his scent, seemed almost like distant memories from a beautiful, but naïve, childhood.

“Mmm?” He nuzzled her hair, savoring her nearness once more. He’d missed her more than he realized.

“She kinda…died,” Buffy announced, shooting Cassandra a triumphant look. “And it’s kinda because I beat her and then drank her blood.”

A whoop of laughter escaped Spike at that, and he caught her lips in a quick bruising kiss that caught her entirely off-guard. “All that effort these idiots pulled to keep you out, and you go and do the one thing that guarantees your place,” he said proudly. “Just like I did.”

Buffy gave him a small smile.

And, belatedly, he noticed her unusually subdued manner. Funny how, in the thick of things, he’d forgotten her recent loss entirely. It was all distant to him – a hypothetical grandchilde he’d never met – but to her the grief had to be very real.

“C’mon, pet,” he encouraged softly. “Unless dear old Gertrude wants to make more of her threats in front of multiple witnesses that will cheerily tell the Council she’s lyin’?”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed.

Harmony waved, as if pointing out the fact that she was one of the witnesses in question. Just in case the older vampiress didn’t understand.

Cassandra understood all too well and stalked away, causing Xander and Harmony to press flat against the hall walls in order to let her bulk past.

“Charming friend you’ve got there,” Buffy commented.

He just shook his head. “No friend of mine…” He turned back to her. “Let’s show you where they’ve got our line holed up,” he offered, taking her hand.

“We’re supposed to appear before—” Xander began.

Spike raised a scarred eyebrow in his direction.

“Right, never mind,” Xander quickly clamed up.

Taking Buffy’s hand gently, he led her away to seclusion and privacy, rather like he did to Dru when she was ill from the visions. Because, if madness wasn’t haunting his slayer now, grief certainly was. He wondered belatedly just how debilitating it would be to lose a childe. He tried to imagine Buffy dust and shook the thought off in instant horror. Made him wonder all the more, then, whether it was something you ever got over…

“It’s a simple arrangement, really,” Thanos offered. He sat half in the shadows, the darkness blending into the black of his shoulder-length hair, her pale, gaunt face stern, spider-like fingers adorned with golden rings steepled beneath his chin.

“Simple, simple…” Drusilla agreed with an enigmatic smile. “You want me to play with the roses. All fall down…”

He frowned, trying to figure out whether she had said something astute or something insane. It was hard to tell with this vampiress. Made her tricky to negotiate with. “Your line dwindles,” he ignored her comment, continuing to press his case, “Penn’s death—”

“Me and my William and our little golden doll,” she sighed. “I know my line,” she snapped, suddenly fully lucid.

“Then you know perfectly well that mine is strong whereas yours…” He trailed off, spreading his hands in an almost apologetic gesture.

“Mine has precedent,” she retorted.

He sighed. “It isn’t defeat I offer you,” he insisted.

“Oh?” She stood and rose, her fingertips gliding lightly over the cheeks of the two guards that stood rigid behind her. “Then I shall certainly consider your proposal. I’d have to be mad not to, now wouldn’t I?” A little giggle, and she was gone.

Thanos’ expression darkened further.

Stepping forth from the shadows from his concealed place behind the stone wall, Alger ventured nervously, “She’s not going to agree, is she?”

“I’d say that was a rather definitive ‘no’,” Thanos agreed. Sighed. “Ah well, there’s always Plan B.”

Alger gulped. “Th-There’s a bit of a complication with Plan B,” he offered nervously.

“Complication?” Thin, dark eyebrows rose in disbelief that this Order pencil-pusher would displease him so.

“It couldn’t be helped,” Alger scrambled to explain. “Spike’s childe, sh-she killed the slayer! We had no choice but to…” He whimpered at the dark rage that flashed through Thanos’ eyes.

It was gone in a second, however. “Well, then,” he offered with a tone so falsely jovial it made Alger’s skin crawl, “we’ll just have to deal with Miss Summers, as well. Won’t we?”