All the Things That Are Lost, Ch. 5

[ladyk8]

Title: All the Things That Are Lost
Chapter: 5
Pairing: S/B
Rating: PG-13

Summary: Post-NFA. When Buffy discovers that Spike survived the destruction of Sunnydale, she heads to LA looking for answers; however, her search will eventually lead her to a strange place that is more than a world away.

Previous chapters here



Disclaimer: The characters of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Angel” belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The original characters are my fault. No copyright infringement intended, and as this is posted for free, and read for free, nobody is losing any money. Suing me won’t make you any money either (haha! see my puny bank account!), so let’s just not.

All the Things That Are Lost

Chapter 5 : Hyperion North

“This is the place?”

Buffy scuffed the toe of her boot against the ground, dislodging a soft plume of sooty earth. The area was cordoned off with multiple signs, but Andrew had directed the car around the barricades with ridiculous ease, insisting that whatever had happened had been mystical, not structural, so they were in no danger. Looking around now, Buffy wasn’t quite so sure of that, but then, she’d been the one who had insisted on coming here, so she wasn’t about to argue.

“This was the place,” Andrew corrected. “According to the map, anyway, that’s the Hyperion Hotel.”

Though the building’s street-side frontage still boasted what appeared to be a strong and sturdy exterior, from their current vantage point, the extent of the damage was obvious. Buffy stared up at the half-charred skeleton of the hotel, its upper floors a chaotic mess of blackened wood and tumbled debris that had already partially fallen in upon itself. She wondered how much longer the building could bear up under the weight of that kind of structural damage - whether it would continue to stand indefinitely, hiding its ruin behind its front façade, or whether it would eventually fall to pieces one day and save the city the time and effort of the wrecking ball.

“Not an architect,” Dawn said, “but still, that looks like structural damage to me, Andrew.”

“Well, there’s maybe a little bit of both,” he conceded, “to the untrained eye. But, with the proper expertise, one can easily see the signs and portents that indicate this was all caused by a mystical event. It has a completely different vibe.”

“If you say so,” Dawn shrugged, casting an appraising gaze back at the building. “It looks like it was pretty. It could be again, if someone fixed it up.”

“Okay, Mr. Expertise: translate me some signs and portents already. What happened here?” Buffy asked bluntly, not caring to join in the speculation as she let some of her attention shift to the surrounding buildings - mostly decrepit, abandoned warehouses from the looks of it. Though they too were oddly singed and battered, they appeared to have been spared the worst of whatever storm had been called down on this spot.

“Um… well, I haven’t verified all the details yet,” Andrew said, rooting through the overstuffed portfolio that he’d brought along with him - conspicuously labeled ‘Confidential! Andrew’s Eyes Only!’ “But I can tell you that the building was registered to a ‘Mr. Angel’-” Andrew paused to smirk. “Ooh, great job with the secret identity… Not! -but anyway, it used to be the location of ‘Angel Investigations.’ Something about ‘helping for less,’ or something like that. I had a brochure, but-” He riffled awkwardly through his jumbled collection of papers. “-can’t find it now. Anyway, for the last year, it was supposedly vacant after Angel traded up to Wolfram & Hart, aka WRH. The hotel was damaged by fire around the same time that the WRH office tower collapsed - maybe the same night; the reports are a bit jumbled. Police reports said it was probably arson, that there were vagrants living here, et cetera, et cetera.”

“And Giles?” Buffy prompted evenly. “What did he say?”

Andrew shifted uneasily. “He never mentioned the Hyperion to me per se,” he replied slowly, once again uncomfortably aware of his conflicting allegiances, “…just that he and Willow knew that the locus of the mystical energies originated in LA. But, you know, I’d actually kind of thought that would have been at the Wolfram & Hart offices.”

“We didn’t find anything there,” Buffy reminded him. Just a whole lot of shiny new trucks and cranes and backhoes, and a big billboard advertising the ‘New Wolfram & Hart Coming Soon.’ The hard-hatted workers on site had been decidedly non-demonic and had nothing of interest to tell her.

“Are we going to find anything here?” Dawn asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Buffy decided. Turning back to the car, she opened the trunk, retrieving her shiny new sword. Just purchased today at a multipurpose renfaire shop, with period replicas at the front of the store, and the more useful demon-hunting weaponry in the back.

“Do you really think we’ll need weapons?”

“We always need weapons,” Buffy said with certainty, also stuffing her trusty stake into her jacket pocket for good measure. Striding purposefully forward, she began to make her way along the perimeter of the property.

“Um…” Another rattling of paper and scuffling of footsteps as Andrew struggled to catch up with her. “Aren’t you… aren’t you going inside the hotel?”

“Inside that?” She gestured at the dilapidated building next to them. “Do I look crazy, Andrew? The correct answer to that question is ‘no.’ Besides, the hard-drinking Yoda talked about the alley behind the Hyperion, so that’s where we’ll start.”

Andrew nodded momentarily, then his eyes lit up. “Yoda…?”

“Well,” she hedged, “he was green. Close enough, right?”

“Not actually-”

“Guys?” Dawn’s voice interrupted. She followed only a few steps behind, looking back and forth dubiously. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy admitted, “but I’m betting I’ll know it when I see it.”

Not for the first time, Buffy wished she’d come alone, as she was unable to completely block out the sounds of Andrew’s running commentary: “…well, there’s some trash… some garbage… a dead rat or something over there… and I don’t even want to contemplate what that is… you know, the last time I was here, Spike taught me a lot about tracking, I think he really respected what I’d done with my life… he and I went on patrol together, maybe I can find something…” And Dawn’s brief interjection, “what are you doing with… eww! Andrew! That’s so gross!”

Buffy didn’t even bother to turn and look, trying to keep focused on her search. What kind of markings would mystical energy leave behind? Scorch marks? Skid marks? Big, black, evil-looking stains? How was she going to be able to tell the difference between that and whatever gunk was already in this alley? Problem was, she just didn’t know these kinds of things. She’d always relied on the experts, like Giles and Willow, to fill her in on the arcane details. Except that Giles and Willow had never wanted her to find out about this at all, and if they had any idea where she was right now, she didn’t doubt that they’d be on their way here to try to talk some sense into her. She didn’t relish the thought of that confrontation. Both for their sake and her own.

“I’m telling you, it tasted evil,” Andrew was saying. “We must be getting closer.”

“Could you keep the commentary to a minimum, please,” Buffy finally barked. “I’m trying to concentrate here.”

Paradoxically, Andrew’s obsequious silence was almost as annoying as his prattling. Buffy gritted her teeth and walked onward. She reached the corner of the property - pausing there, Buffy eyed the narrow, shadowed alleyway that led north behind the Hyperion.

“I don’t like it,” Andrew dared comment in a hushed voice. “It’s kind of… dark.”

That it was, boxed in on both sides by the crumbling walls of abandoned buildings. Most of them showed fire damage as well, probably from the same battle that had done such damage to the Hyperion. “What did you expect? It’s evening,” Buffy replied resolutely. “And it’s only going to get darker. Let’s get it over with before the vamps - or worse - come out to play. Both of you keep close.”

“No argument from me,” Dawn murmured quietly.

“I don’t like it here,” Andrew was whispering under his breath, probably to himself, “I really really do not like it here…”

Buffy completely understood the sentiment. It felt colder here, felt darker than it was, and she had no doubt that she was near… whatever it was that she was looking for. Her heart clenched briefly, but she didn’t pause to examine it. Forward. Forward. Her heels clacked ominously in the unnaturally thick silence, and she tried not to look too closely at the many clumps of unidentifiable garbage strewn underfoot. The alley seemed to lead nowhere, and even from this distance, she could see there was no exit - the other end was blocked. Dead end.

She noted an abrupt gaping hole in part of the chain link fence bounding the alley, it edges shorn neatly away, with no debris left behind. A freshly-scrubbed clean patch? As she walked past, her skin prickled, with cold, with anticipation. Keep going. Just go forward. Find what she was-

“Oooohh,” Dawn’s voice, sounding first as a startled whimper, then rising rapidly into a shriek, “Buffy!!”

Buffy whirled, sword in hand, ready for almost anything… except that.

Dawn stood only a few steps behind Andrew and Buffy, a dazzling green light blazing from her eyes, luminous traces of green energy rippling along her hair, leaking from the edge of her fingertips. “I think I’ve found something,” Dawn whispered, and vivid green light spilled from her lips as she spoke. “A door.”

“Dawn!” Almost a shriek, her sister’s name tore from her throat as if it were made only of sharp edges. “What’s happening? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” her sister replied, and to hear her normal voice coming from the glowing figure standing transfixed before them was intensely surreal. “Yeah, I think I am.” She sounded almost surprised by that. “I just wasn’t expecting this - it sort of startled me at first.”

That must have been the understatement to end all others. Buffy felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach, or dropped her on her head, knocking all the breath out of her. It was like Sunnydale - that night in Sunnydale, when she’d done that spell-seeing ritual: the dreamlike, dizzying feeling as she’d suddenly been able to see part way through the magic-laden reality that had been shrouded over her home. Flickering visions of what was, and what wasn’t. She’d never quite forgotten the sight of Dawn in that moment - the terrifying, heart-wrenching realization that her little sister was not what she thought she was.

It swept over her again, the same feeling, and she was reliving so many moments she wanted to forget. “You’re still the Key,” she realized, stricken. Still in danger, then; still a threat, an opportunity, a tool to be used and misused if anyone else found out…

“I guess so.” In contrast, Dawn’s voice was light with wonderment, but she seemed to register Buffy’s concern. “Don’t worry, Buffy - I’m fine. I’d forgotten what it felt like, but… it’s coming back to me.” A tiny shimmer of laughter came from her. “Kind of tickles.”

“Dawn, stop it. Can you stop it-?” Stop; stop now before it’s too late…

But Dawn was shaking her head, she was giddy, as if spellbound by her own transformation. “Wait, Buffy, I can see something. I can see it… there’s a door here. A way through to somewhere else. I can see… pieces of what happened. Shadows. Angel was here. And Spike.” She smiled, a flash of bright green radiance. “Others with them, too, but not so many - a very strange woman, and a dying man… They all came here. They were fighting. It’s… unbelievable. Demons. Giants. Dragon…? Whoa. Very angry. So much at once. It looks… like the sky is going to fall in. Or the earth is going to twist apart. There’s a door. A door opened up beneath them, and they all went through.”

“Through to where…?”

“To… the other side. I’m sorry, I can’t see any further than that. It’s somewhere else, too far away, and it’s shut. Very tightly shut. But… it’s like there’s a crack - like I can almost feel a draft. I think…” She hesitated, a flicker of concentration. “I think I can open it again.” A long pause. “Should I…?”

Buffy was shocked to find herself pausing to consider that, because that was why she had come here. To find answers. And if there were any hope, to find him. To end or begin things between them. Properly.

But this was a dangerous maneuver, to try to open this portal, and Dawn- With what had just happened, Buffy didn’t dare risking anything happening to Dawn-

Perhaps her sister read those fears in her face, for she said, “I’m okay, Buffy. This is what I am, what I always was. Nothing has changed. Look.” Dawn abruptly stepped backward, seeming to shake off the energy that was flowing around her with a few shrugs of her shoulders. The green light crackled briefly about her, then winked out completely. “See? All back to normal.”

“That… that was… so very amazing…” Andrew stuttered in halting awe, finally capable of speech, though his jaw was still half-hanging open. “You’re like… some green goddess superhero…”

“Thanks!” Dawn said perkily, with a brilliant smile that dimmed only slightly when she looked towards Buffy. “It’s okay,” she said again. “Really, it is, Buffy. I feel… amazing. Whole. For the first time since… ever. And this, this ability, it feels like it’s mine; it felt right. And don’t you see? - I can use this, I can use this to help you.”

“Dawn…” So many words. She didn’t have a clue as to which ones she was going to speak. Be careful. Wait. Slow down. You don’t know what you’re doing. We can’t take the risk. I don’t want to lose you.

Dawn caught at her hand. “I’m still me, Buffy. You’re still my sister. Why… why do you have to look so tragic? Talk to me.”

Buffy tried very hard not to look tragic, but couldn’t quell the ache in her chest. “It’s just…” The words caught in her throat. “Dawn… I wanted you to be able to have… a normal life.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” and if Dawn heard Buffy’s inarticulate protest, she continued to talk over it, “but I can’t change what I am. And this is it, Buffy. This is me. Besides…” Dawn gave her a lopsided smile. “…normal’s way overrated. Been there, done that… and it was getting a little boring. Admit it.”

“Me…?”

“Hooking up with a supernatural celebrity who calls himself ‘The Immortal?’ Come on.”

Her face flushed. “Not fair. When I first met him, I didn’t know he was-”

“Okay, whatever.” Dawn waved her argument away. “But you’re still a Slayer. Even if you’re not the ‘one and only,’ you know how all of the new ones look up to you. You train them, and they think you’re some kind of legend. And you and Giles and Willow and Xander - Sunnydale and the Hellmouth are both long gone, and you’re all still out there, following mystical trails and fighting demons and monsters. Nothing’s changed. Maybe it’s time to admit that none of us are ever going to be normal.”

“Exactly,” Andrew offered in helpful agreement. “I’m not normal either.”

Buffy couldn’t help the sputter of laughter that burst from her. “You’re right. Okay, I admit it - you’re both right. Happy now?”

Dawn’s hands tightened on hers. “I want to help, Buffy. Let me help.”

The scuffling noise of footsteps drawing nearer put an end to the conversation. All three of them turned towards the approaching sound, and Buffy suddenly remembered exactly where they were. Stepping protectively in front of Dawn and Andrew, she brought her sword to the ready.

“Someone’s coming,” Andrew mouthed in a horribly loud whisper.

Inwardly, Buffy berated herself for having been careless enough to stand here so long. Now, the shadows around them were deep, and this spot wasn’t exactly the most defensible position. “Be ready for anything,” she hissed under her breath, hoping Andrew was up to the challenge. “There’s no telling what’s going to come around that corner-”

Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

Blue jeans, sneakers, and a windbreaker. It was only a young man. Tall-ish and thin-ish with brown hair just long enough to get in his eyes, he didn’t look like much of a threat. If he were out of his teens, then it was only by a few years.

But Buffy remembered that she herself had been lethal at that age, and she noted that this young man held a roughly sharpened wooden stake in his right hand.

“Who are you?”

Almost simultaneously, the same question came from the both of them. Buffy shifted vigilantly on her feet, not quite willing to lower her stance yet. “You shouldn’t be here,” she cautioned him warily. “It’s not safe.”

A momentary pause as he took in the scene, and then his lips twitched slightly in a smirking of amusement. “I may not have a broadsword, but I do know how to take care of myself, thanks.”

“That’s so not a broadsword,” Andrew began.

Buffy cut short Andrew’s incipient commentary by barking another question at the intruder: “What do you want here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he countered evenly, sizing her up for a moment before deciding to give her an answer. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Found someone you have, I would say,” Andrew began saying in a singsong voice, but he hushed abruptly at Dawn’s scolding, “Andrew-!”

“While carrying a stake,” Buffy prompted doubtfully.

“Yeah. So? You’re waving a sword around,” he pointed out.

Andrew gasped, and suddenly craned his neck to see past Buffy. “A stake…? Are you… some kind of male slayer…?” he asked in an overawed voice.

“Oh,” the boy said, an undefined comprehension flickering over his face. “You’re some of the slayers? Seem to be everywhere these days…”

He knew what a Slayer was. That could be good; that could be bad. Buffy really wasn’t certain.

“Hah!” Andrew scoffed. “She’s not ‘some of’ - she’s THE Slayer. Or maybe more like the Alma Mater of Slayers, anyway, I guess, now that there’s so many of them - or maybe Faith would technically be-”

“Alma Mater?” Dawn echoed unobtrusively. “Doesn’t that usually mean a University or something…?”

“Okay, possibly,” Andrew conceded, flustered. “Latin’s not easy, you know, Dawn-”

“Andrew,” Buffy gritted through clenched teeth, “I swear to God, if you say one more thing-”

“They said there weren’t many of your kind in LA,” the young man informed Buffy, obviously deciding to overlook Andrew and Dawn’s asides. “Slayers, I mean. That Wolfram & Hart - or maybe Angel - kept you away. But I guess things have changed.” After a moment, he dropped his arm, relaxing his combative stance. “I’m Connor.”

“Buffy,” she responded reflexively, slowly lowering her sword arm to her side, even as her head whirled with the sound of his words. Angel. “You knew Angel?” Friend or foe, then? And, more importantly… “Do you know what happened here?”

Though it was difficult to see his face in the darkening half-light, she caught sight of a frown. “Big fight,” he replied succinctly, “and now lots of vampires come skulking around here, looking for relics. That’s what I thought you three were, at first,” he admitted.

“Relics?” Andrew asked in puzzlement.

“No. Vampires,” he stressed. Shooting a dubious look towards Andrew, he asked under his breath, “Is he on something?”

“He’s just… high on life,” Dawn replied with a barely suppressed smile. “You get used to him eventually. So, um, not that I’m trying to change your mind or anything, but how do you know we’re not vamps?”

“The two of you are wearing crosses,” Connor nodded observantly, “and him… Nah. I just can’t see it. Even for a fledgling-”

“You know an awful lot about vampires,” Buffy interjected, unable to keep the suspicion completely out of her voice. “Where’d you learn it?”

“Discovery Channel,” he replied flippantly. “You’d be amazed at what they’re showing these days.”

A tiny snicker of laughter from Dawn, but Buffy wasn’t so easily diverted.

“Just seem to have a knack for it,” he said evasively, when Buffy’s pointed glare didn’t yield. “Guess it’s in my blood.”

Acutely aware that wasn’t a clear answer either, Buffy snapped the cross away from the chain about her neck and tossed it at Connor. He caught it neatly in his palm and held it there for a moment before throwing a wry look back at her, and lifting his hand to display his unburned skin.

“Just checking,” she shrugged unapologetically. “I like to be sure.” And then changed the subject: “You mentioned Angel.”

“Yeah,” Connor said, handing the cross back to her. “I did.”

“So what else can you tell me about him?” she asked briskly.

“Big guy. Tall. Wears a lot of black, and used to have a big office downtown. That kind of fell apart, though. Why are you so interested?”

“I’m an…” Ex-girlfriend? Ex-lover? Ally, opponent, something in between? “…an old friend,” she finally settled upon, even though the words felt too open-ended and unresolved.

“Really.” A dry, deadpan response. “Funny - you don’t look so old.”

Dawn made a ‘snerk’ing sound behind her, and Buffy was glad that someone was finding all of this amusing.

“You know,” Connor suggested in the next moment, glancing askance at their surroundings, “if you want to stand around and do the whole twenty questions thing, this really isn’t the best place to be doing it. Especially this time of evening. Even if you guys are Slayers-”

“Oh, I’m not a Slayer,” Andrew demurred quickly. “I’m a Junior Watcher.”

Connor just stared, as if that sentence made no sense whatsoever.

“I watch her,” Andrew tried to clarify, starting to point at Buffy, who promptly slapped his hand away. “Ow.”

“I’m not a Slayer either,” Dawn chimed in.

“Okay, then,” Connor replied as if that settled it, “all the more reason to move to a safer location-”

“No.” Buffy’s refusal was absolute; she could feel herself mentally digging in her heels even as Dawn tried to persuade her otherwise. This was the place. The portal was here. Dawn was here. And if Buffy delayed too long, then maybe Willow and Giles would be here and they’d want to talk her out of what she planned to do. “Whatever happened,” she explained urgently, “it happened here - and I’m not leaving until I get some answers. And you,” she said, whirling back to face Connor, “need to quit dodging the questions and tell me what you know.”

“ ‘Need…?’ ” he echoed incredulously. With a frown, Connor backed away a half-step, and Buffy noted the furtive defensive movement of his hand toward the stake he was carrying. “I already told you everything I know.”

“No, you didn’t. How do you know Angel?” she persisted, zeroing in on the point where Connor seemed most evasive.

“He helped me out.”

“How?”

“Algebra,” he retorted with a roll of his eyes, before fixing her with an especially piercing gaze. “None of your damn business.”

“And we’re supposed to believe that - what? - it’s just coincidence that you’re here - now - when we’re-”

“When you’re what?” he pounced, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Just what are the three of you doing here, anyway? It can’t be anything good, or you wouldn’t be so twitchy. And this is a bad place to begin with-”

“And what do you know about that?” she gritted. “Whatever it is you know - whatever it is you’re hiding - I need to know it-”

“Buffy,” Dawn interceded, a gentle hand on her arm. “Maybe he’s right. This doesn’t have to be a fight. Maybe we should go somewhere else for a bit - just calm down a little and talk-”

“I don’t have the time for ‘maybe,’ Dawn,” Buffy snapped, never once taking her eyes off of the boy. “And I’m not looking for a fight,” she said, both to Dawn and to Connor, “I just need to get this done.”

“I know you do,” her sister said, her voice low and soothing in her ear. “I know. But you get so focused - you run all over everyone. How is this helping? Just back off for a minute and let me talk to him.”

“What do you think you can say that I can’t?” she countered.

“Buffy. Please. Trust me.”

“Fine.” Throwing up her hands, Buffy turned away to pace in exasperation, trying not to think of how close she was now, the time they were wasting, and the way things always went wrong at the last minute.

Even though Dawn had drawn Connor a few steps away and was speaking in a hushed voice, Buffy could still overhear their muffled conversation.

“Hey. So… I’m Dawn.”

“Connor.”

“Yeah. I heard.”

“So what’s her deal?”

“Um, well… Slayer-on-a-mission. When they’re in that mode, you either help out, or you get out of the way.”

“And so you’re helping. I’ve gotta ask why, because she seems pretty overbearing.”

“Buffy’s my sister.”

“Huh. Too bad. Here I was just starting to like you.”

“Hey-!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed softly, lifting his hands in appeasement, “I take it back. I know as well as anyone that you can’t choose your own relatives.” He frowned. “Usually.”

“Well,” Dawn hedged, “who knows, maybe I could have if I’d… I mean, there were these monks… oh, never mind. It’s a long story and way complicated.”

“I know the feeling.”

“You do?”

“Oh yeah. But, like you said… long story.”

“Some other time then.” Dawn fiddled with her hair, smiling. Connor smiled back.

Buffy groaned inwardly. Great. Just great. “All right. I’m as patient as the next person,” she said in her best imitation of patience, and conveniently ignoring Andrew who was standing patiently next to her, “but can you two actually try to get to the point? Which, in case anyone’s forgotten,” she began counting items off on her fingers, “is Vampires-Apocalypse-Portal-and-Wolfram & Hart - hopefully sometime before someone else shows up uninvited to screw things up. So if it’s all right with the both of you, let’s skip to the end of the ‘young love’ scene, okay?”

“Buffy!” Dawn exclaimed, with more than a hint of a mortified shriek in her voice. “I can’t believe you just- Look,” she turned back to Connor, her face a bit flushed, “she’s not trying to be bitchy-”

“Oh, so it just comes natural, then, does it?”

“Kind of,” Dawn answered ruefully. “Sometimes. When she’s stressed. It’s just that there’s someone,” she said haltingly, then glanced over her shoulder back at Buffy, and drew Connor a few steps further away. When she continued speaking, her voice was too low to be overheard.

Buffy tried very hard not to pull out her hair. Waiting. She was no good with the waiting. There was an agitated, expectant knot in her stomach, as if an alarm clock were about to go off somewhere. Maybe it was what Willow had described as ‘mystical aftershocks’ in the area that were now playing on her nerves. Or maybe it was just her own indecision.

Very old and very powerful magic, Willow had said. Couldn’t be opened. Shouldn’t. Buffy could almost feel it thrumming beneath her feet, like a monster waiting to be wakened. Was she making a huge mistake, in coming here? In trying to do this?

And what about Dawn? If she were still a Key, and Glory had needed her blood to open the portal… was Buffy now putting Dawn at risk, by even being here, this close to the portal?

Could she live with herself, if something went wrong? Alternatively, could she live with herself, if she came all the way here only to turn around and walk away again?

Buffy shut her eyes. This was a hell of an inopportune time to start having second thoughts.

“It’s good,” Andrew commented beside her, “the way you trust Dawn to parley for you.” He paused for a moment. “Um… so, anyway, how is it that she turned green like that? Is that some kind of Slayer thing? Or, I guess since she’s not a Slayer, a Slayer-sibling thing?”

“It’s yet another long and complicated story is what it is,” Buffy sighed. “Ask Dawn about it later; I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it. That is,” she amended, “if you can ever pry her away from Vamp Hunter, Jr. over there.”

Dawn and Connor were still quietly conversing, and though Dawn appeared to be winning him over, Buffy’s nerves were fast fraying away.

Time to act. It was definitely time. Almost past time. “Okay, that’s it,” she announced abruptly. “Time’s up, and I’m done with waiting. Trust me,” she said to Connor, “we’ll all get out of each other’s way a whole lot faster if you just tell me the truth-”

“Buffy-” Dawn tried to intervene, too late.

“Trust you?!” Any grudging understanding that had shown on Connor’s face quickly vanished. “Listen,” he burst out, and now he had his stake fully in hand as he backed away, “I don’t know the first thing about you people, or what you’re really doing here. You say you’re slayers - or not,” he amended with a brief glance toward Dawn and Andrew, “and you come here, and start asking questions and giving commands - I don’t take orders from you! I don’t even know who you are-”

“Count yourself lucky then, boy,” a new voice chimed in, as a slim figure advanced upon them from the darkness of the ruined hotel. “Because I’ve been trying to forget her ever since I met her. But she just keeps coming back.”

Though the voice was instantly recognizable, Buffy still didn’t quite believe it until the woman stepped into the light.

“Harmony…?”

The vampire’s sharp teeth twisted into a smile. “Hey, Buffy. Long time, no see.”