“Blood Harvest?” Buffy asked, bone weary and not entirely willing to care. Couldn’t a slayer get a break? Really, now, first the First Evil was after them, then all these potential slayers started showing up, then Angel…God, Angel…but she wasn’t thinking about him. Not yet, at least. 

She’d think about him later. She’d think about him once she saved the slayer line, once she saved the world yet again. And as she was thinking about him…maybe this time no one would bring her back. Maybe now they could finally find peace, together.  

Giles was nodding, wearily rubbing his eyes as his glasses dangled from his mouth. It was an almost comforting gesture but Buffy was beyond comfort at the moment.  

Why was her body still screaming out for her mate’s? Was it something else…? But then Giles was speaking and Buffy forced herself to focus. 

“I’m not real clear on the details, all I’ve been able to find – and this is using whatever Council resources are left plus any contacts even my contacts have–” He was about ready to look up Ethan Rayne from wherever the Initiative stashed him he was that desperate. “But it involves the summoning of the demon.” 

There was silence as the gang waited for more from the watcher, but said watcher wasn’t forthcoming on anymore details. “Uh, Giles?” Willow asked from her position curled up in a chair. Everyone was exhausted and since she wasn’t sure when they’d next get a break, she thought relaxing while she could was the thing to do. “Which demon?” 

Xander snorted, agreeing, “Yeah, Giles, there are hundreds. And is it one from here, one that’s already dead? Can they do that? Summon a dead demon back to the land of demon living?” 

Buffy didn’t answer but remembered what Angel had told her once…that Wolfram & Hart had brought Darla back from whatever dead vampires experienced when they turned to ash. Angel… 

“A human ascending thing? That just sucked and we just finished rebuilding the high school. Oh, oh,” he added, excited, “They’re not making one, are they? That Adam/Frankenstein thing was just creepy. Oh, not the Hellmouth? I hate it when they open that. And do they mean demon or hell goddess, because frankly I’d like to know this time.” 

The potentials were staring at Xander with something approaching horrified interest as he had rattled off the different types of evils they may or may not be facing. No one batted an eye when Willow corrected her friend. “Frankenstein was the name of the doctor; his creation was just called The Monster.” 

Giles, interrupting what was going to be a full-blown argument, he could tell, on the various things they had fought over the years, said, “No I think they’re referring to one that’s already here. Or here on this planet, in this dimension,” he clarified.  

“I’m not sure, of course, which species or anything…I doubt it’s the Turok-Han, if that’s any consolation. The Blood Harvest suggests by its very name that it – whatever it may be – is after something. Possibly something like…” Giles trailed off, but Buffy knew where he was going with it. 

“I stopped the Harvest, Giles, like my first day here! The Master was going to use the blood of how many dozens to…to rise.” And it all clicked together. Locking eyes with her watcher Buffy stated what she could tell he already suspected. “Something is going to rise. Rise as in ‘from beneath us it devours’ rise? No, that’s that first vamp thingy…” she trailed of then added in a small voice filled with hope, “Right?” 

“I’m not sure, Buffy. I don’t even have a conveniently obscure prophecy.” 

“Beast,” Willow said, sitting up in her chair as the thought came to her. “It wasn’t a demon, Giles, it was a beast of…some…sort, or something.” 

Giles nodded, “Yes, which also suggests a demon, but we’re back where we started.” 

And so it went, around and around and no one was any closer to figuring out what anything meant. Things were getting worse, the increase in demonic activity alone was enough to tip them off, but it wasn’t just that. 

It was the fact that they were losing. Slowly and steadily, they were losing ground. Spike was already a part – however inadvertently – of the First’s grand plan and they had no idea how to rescue him. Or even, Buffy ruefully acknowledged if only to herself, if they should.

That was another problem on their ever-growing pile of problems. And one she didn’t really want to think on at the moment. She didn’t want to think about anything at the moment, she just wanted to rest. 
~~~~~~~~~~
Tired, so very tired.
Have I ever been this tired? I can’t remember though I’m sure there have been times when it’s been close. End of the world fights tend to take a lot out of one. And this every third week shit? All I want to do is sleep. 

But I can’t and that’s what scares me the most. 

The second I close my eyes I dream of him. My sweet Angel. Oh, there have been times when he’s not been so sweet but he’s always been mine. I don’t care what anyone else says, he is mine as surely as I am his.

Was. Was his. Was mine. Was, was, was, because he’s gone now. But there’s a huge part of me that just doesn’t believe that. Especially my dreams. In these dreams I see him, strong and powerful and everything I know him to be. But the cruel, somewhat ironic twist to this? 

He’s Angelus. The soul, that bright light that I first fell in love with all those years ago, is gone. And while that sends a tremor of trepidation through me it’s not as bad as what else I feel. 

My body, it seems, doesn’t know the difference between soul and no soul. Then again, it never did. Traitorous body. Still, I want him. I want him just as much as I ever wanted – still want – Angel.  

He’s coming for me, I know. But it’s something that only my subconscious mind can grasp. For whatever reason, my dreams won’t allow my conscious mind to realize the danger. There’s enough here to go around; I suppose I think I don’t need any more. Yeah, great, no, really I’m such a big help to myself.  

My body shifts under the thin sheet, comforter thrown off the bed long ago. I’d know his hands anywhere; know that scent, the feel of his mouth on mine, his large body as he covers me.  

‘Yes,’ I cry out, wanting him closer despite the fact I know exactly who it is in my dream. ‘Yes, please, oh, please!’ 

He knows, too, smiles at me that little half smirk that says he knows all my secrets. Does he? Angel used to, would his alter ego as well? Yes, of course he’d know, he always knows, always did and most likely always would. 

I can feel his fangs as they descend and I don’t care, knowing what’s coming next. Yes, this is what I want, to be with him always, to know his touch, his feel, his scent through all the centuries to come.  

‘Not yet,’ his whisper is clear in my ear and I turn, just a little, try and capture his lips, his essence, something, anything from the only man I’ve ever loved. ‘Soon, my love, very soon.’
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy awoke with a gasp, trying desperately to remember what this dream had been about. Her body hummed with unfulfilled lust, her breath coming too fast and her heart pounding in her chest. Her blood moved thickly through her veins and a part of her knew. 

Always did, always would know. 

“Buffy?” Dawn’s voice sounded through the door, dispelling whatever web enveloped her. 

“Yeah?” Her voice was husky and she had to clear it once, twice, “Come in, Dawn.” 

“Are you okay?” The younger Summers asked as she poked her head into the room. “I thought I heard you talking with someone.” 

Buffy looked at her sister, puzzled. “No, probably just in my sleep, or something.” And it was that something that bothered her.  

Dawn looked at her funny but said nothing to that. “Giles wanted me to wake you up; it seems he’s found a reference to the Blood Harvest.” 

Oh, joy, what a way to start the day.  

Twenty minutes later, sitting with a large cup of Giles’ favorite tea in her hands Buffy listened to her watcher – former? Was there such a thing? – as he read the three minutes worth of information they had about the Blood Harvest. 

It wasn’t much. Appropriately obscure and vague, with just enough information to try and guide but there were huge chunks of things missing. 

“Could that be any more vague?” Xander asked as he scrubbed his hands over a face covered with stubble. Sleeping on the couch wasn’t doing anyone any good. 

“What does it mean,” Molly asked, “Righteous? I mean you said possibly righteous, but how can a person be possibly righteous?” 

“Well,” Willow said from her seat in the chair, her eyes drooping; she had stayed up all night researching with Giles and this chair was rapidly becoming her favorite spot in the house. “Righteous normally means a morally upright individual, but there have been people throughout history who claim to be ‘moral’ or ‘righteous’ and use that morality to perpetrate horrors against others.” 

“It’s written in an ancient language, long dead, demonic, of course and I have only a rudimentary knowledge of it so, no I have no idea if the translation is correct. It could also mean Innocent, I-I suppose, or virtuous, good, honest, pick a synonym. Or I could be completely wrong, I have no idea.”  

At the looks from the Slayer’s in Training he shrugged what did they expect? Miracles every time one opened a book? The regular group continued to flip through the rest of the books scattered about the living room and Giles was grateful for their steadiness here. 

This wasn’t the first time something this vague was seen, after all. 

“Oh, oh, here it is!” Anya straightened from her hunched position over a large dusty box and held up a book bound in a leathery material. “It’s the dictionary, right? The one you’ve been looking for?” At Giles look she mumbled, “What? I have like one connection in the demon community left; I thought I’d use it to help us with this latest big bad. Which,” she continued, “Seems to be the ultimate big bad, as in End of Days big bad, so…there?” 

Andrew, from his position still tied to the chair scrunched his nose at the volume in the former demon’s hands and asked, “What’s that bound in?” 

Anya looked at him as if he should know better. “Human skin, probably,” she shrugged and handed the book to Giles who took it with a small look of disgust on his face but he needed this book and wasn’t inclined to care. He’d seen worse in his tenure on the Hellmouth. 

A few mumbled words and several flipped pages later Giles revised his translation. “The blood from a thousand innocents shall flow; innocent they enter the world and innocent so shall they leave this world. The life of the innocents shall run and the mouth shall open, the true shall roam the earth once more and the interlopers shall tremble.” 

“Innocents, like…babies?” Willow asked this but from the look on everyone’s faces they were all thinking it. 

“No, no it doesn’t look like that. More like an innocent soul, not necessarily a child. A person,” he continued, taking off his glasses and absently chewing on the handle, “Can be innocent throughout life despite what they’ve seen or heard.” 

“So how do we find these innocents?” Buffy asked, gathering her strength to fight. 

“I admit I’m unsure about that, but it seems that it would have already started. And I doubt very much even the First can gather a thousand innocent souls in Sunnydale. This means world wide and I have no idea how we’re to prevent that.”

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