Chapter Nine

Season of the Witch

Written by Phil and Jules

*

"So, what exactly are we supposed to be looking at, Xander?" Buffy asked as she craned her head, trying to see past Anya’s shoulder.

"Hang on a sec, Buff. I had it here a minute ago. Okay, here it is," Xander mumbled as he pushed the book forward so everyone could get a better view of it.

"Hmm, is this the part you mean?" Anya asked him curiously. "The sorcerer known only to the people of Roscommon as dubhthlach…"

"What in the heck does that mean?" Dawn cut in.

"The Dark One. It’s old high Gaelic." Tara explained to her. As everyone turned to look incredulously at her, she blushed and muttered something about getting a life.

"Anyway," Anya continued huffily, "he was often known to consort with demons and devils...pffft. As if there were actually such a thing as a devil. I swear I don’t know who researched this thing but…"

"Anya," Buffy was hardly in the mood for one of the ex-demon’s tirades.

"But," Anya continued unfazed, "It says that he consorted with several powerful lords of the netherworld, real heavyweights in fact. Let’s see, ‘the chieftest being Lord Tigranus of Malthus, who wast his patron...Oh Hell! And I mean that literally by the way." she added as they all stared at her in confusion.

"So who is this Tigger that’s got you so spooked?"

"Well, it’s not so much who he is as what he is, Buffy" Anya told her. "The Malthusians are an ancient and incredibly powerful order of demons who usually serve in the armies of the underworld as generals and advisers to the Overlords of the demon realms."

"Overlords?" Xander questioned her.

"Oh you know-the greatest of all the Ultimate Dark Powers in the known Universe, beings like…"

"Hell Gods." Buffy finished for her quietly. "She means these things work for Hell Gods. Right?"

Anya nodded. "Among other things. Some of them much worse." They all shuddered a bit internally at that.

"So does this mean that Crispin is working for someone else?" Tara inquired. The ex-demon shook her head. "Oh, not necessarily. In fact, as far as I know, most of the Malthusians were wiped out a few centuries ago. I’d be far more worried that Crispin or Father Duffy or whatever his real name is, at the moment if I were you. From what it says here, Giles pretty much called it. He’s a warlock of the first order-centuries old, with a special talent for mind control spells. His favorite target appears to be witches-the more powerful and arrogant the witch, the better he likes it. I guess he flatters their egos first, and once he gets his hooks into them, he drains them of their supernatural power over a period of time. Willow must have seemed like an all-you-can-eat Jewish buffet to him."

"And he’s still at the dessert cart," Xander muttered angrily.

"Well, I guess it’s time we go pay Professor Snape a visit and feed him to a troll or something." Dawn, who appeared to be just as pissed off as Xander, added.

"Are you nuts?" Anya snapped at her. "Don’t you get it? It’s not just him we have deal with. He’s got Willow pretty much under his control right now, if he’s keeping to his usual schedule. Either one of them alone is enough to kick our collective asses. Both of them combined, and a small army of vampires behind them? We’re outclassed here, people."

"She didn’t mean anything by it, Anya," Tara said in a quiet voice. "And she’s right. We have to stop him now. Willow can’t survive much more of this. He’ll kill her. We’ve got to…"Her voice trailed off as the immense danger that Willow was in overwhelmed her sense of composure.

"Tara," Xander responded as gently as he could. "We all understand what you’re going though and believe me, we all want this guy stopped as badly as you do, but Anya has a very good point…again. There’s a lot we don’t know about him still, including how to beat him. We’re not ready to take them all on, yet."

"Then we get ready," Buffy cut him off with a tone that was tempered with pure steel. "We don’t have all the information we need to fight him at his own game? Then we get some. And we start right now. We’re already too far behind in this fight and I’m not going to waste any more time sitting around waiting for him to make his next move."

She paused for a second to focus her thoughts as the others stared at her. "Okay, the first thing I need to know is what’s in our arsenal," sounding for all the world like a general taking stock of a coming battle. "Amy, I know you haven’t been back with us very long but we are going to need your help, and it might not be pleasant. Are you up to it?"

Amy looked at her for a very long moment and then nodded.

"Good. You’re our eyes and ears in the enemy camp right now. I need you to go back and pretend like nothing’s happened. As far as Crispin knows, we haven’t figured out his little game yet and I want to keep it that way. It’s probably the only advantage we’ve got. Just make sure you don’t give him any sign that we know what he’s up to."

The witch nodded again and Buffy turned to Anya, Xander and Dawn. "All right, you guys are my research team. I need you all to keep hitting the books. Tear the shop apart, hell the whole town, if you have to, but I want to know everything there is to know about that bastard."

Not bothering to wait to acknowledge their acceptance of her orders, Buffy turned her attention to the last member of the group.

"Tara, I know how hard this has been for you, but I need you to be strong. With Willow gone, you’re the biggest gun we’ve got and trust me, I’m going to be pointing you at Crispin as often as possible. This whole thing hinges on you, you know, and I have to be sure you can face the possibility that we might have to fight Willow if we can’t get her away from him. Okay?"

Tara looked straight at the Slayer and nodded far more vigorously than Amy had. "I understand what needs to be done, Buffy."

"Good. Then we’re all agreed. This is how it’s going to have to be…"

"Wait a minute," Dawn said breaking into her older sister’s sentence. "Shouldn’t somebody go get Spike? Isn’t he going to need to know what to do."

"Just let me worry about Spike, okay Dawnie?" Buffy replied curtly. "He’ll know what he needs to know, when he needs to know it. Now, everybody better get comfortable. We’ve got a lot of stuff to go over tonight…"

"Should I put on a pot of coffee, Buffy?" Anya inquired.

"Tell you what, Anya. Why don’t you make three?"

And with that, the Slayer began to lay out her plans to the gang.

**

Crispin looked up from the ancient Babylonian text he had been studying for the past few hours and rubbed his throbbing temples. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have bothered doing his own research (he had always hated studying) but time was currently of the essence and he didn’t trust anyone else with the knowledge of what he and his patron were attempting. The Rosenberg girl certainly had the ability and research background but the less she knew the better, and he needed her to reserve her energies for what he had planned later.

Now that was a subject he could bear not thinking about. God, but he was sick and tired of her constant whining. Of course he had been seducing and corrupting witches for well, centuries and had dealt with a lot of annoying women, but this one was emotionally weaker than most. She needed constant assurance that she was still pretty, that he still loved; the list of disgusting little ‘nothings’ he had been forced to whisper into her rapidly aging ears was nearly endless. Not that there weren’t some fringe benefits involved. He had to admit that she was fairly entertaining in bed, and her appetites were nearly as inexhaustible as his were. Still, even a good thing palled after a while and he was more than ready to move on to the next stage of the plan.

The sound of clattering in the living room of the campus apartment he currently shared with the red-haired witch momentarily aroused him from his thoughts. It was a little early for Willow to be up, considering how thoroughly he had put her through her paces last night. Little bitch definitely has staying power, I’ll give her that.

"What, up so soon my pet?" He asked lecherously. "You’re not ready for another go around are you?"

"Umm, it’s just me,’ came the meek reply, as Amy Madison stuck her head around the corner. "I was just going to go out for some, umm, coffee."

"Don’t we have any more in the ice-box?" He inquired, in a much less seductive tone.

"Umm, yeah, I guess so but I was kind of in the mood for a Starbucks. I was just going to go out for a few hours. That’s okay, isn’t it?" When the warlock casually dismissed her with a wave of his hand, she nearly fell over herself rushing for the door.

Crispin shook his head as he watched Amy leave. The blonde witch’s mousy ways were an increasing source of irritation to him. Wherever he turned these days he seemed to find her lurking furtively just at arm’s length. It had occurred to him very briefly that she might be snooping around but he dismissed the idea as ludicrous. The stupid girl lacked even the weakest of backbones, and was incapable of doing anything that required courage. She’d never dare challenge him openly or otherwise.

In fact, of late he had been contemplating disposing of her altogether. He had agreed to suffer her presence in the first place only because Willow had begged him ceaselessly for the blonde’s company, and she had a calming effect on the temperamental redhead. Of course, added to this was the fact that she was physically attractive and a reasonably powerful witch in her own right, although certainly not in Willow’s league or even that of Willow’s ex-lover. Compared to either one of them, Madison wouldn’t make much more than a tasty snack. But she remained a potential source of energy, should his current target slip beyond his grasp.

Tara MacClay. Now there was a name that was constantly in his thoughts these days. It had been nearly 48 hours since he had attempted to gain control of her mind and the fact that she had not yet presented herself to him was a bit disconcerting. Although he sensed that she was tempted, he couldn’t be sure that the spell had worked, and that was unusual.

The warlock’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud pounding at the door. Smiling to himself, he gracefully rose from his chair and walked very slowly and deliberately to entrance of the apartment. He knew who it was of course and was fully intent on enjoying the situation. He was rewarded a few moments later with continued pounding punctuated by a shrill voice.

"Open up, you arrogant bastard. I know you’re in there, damn you!"

Slowly opening the door, he was greeted by a scowling Clarissa and her two of her henchvamps.

"It’s about time," she snarled at him. "Believe me when I tell you I’ve got more important things to do than stand around in this crummy hallway all morning."

"Your personal calendar is no concern of mine whatsoever,’ he replied acidly. "And you’re late. I summoned you hours ago. How did you get up here anyway? It’s light out.

Bristling at the thought of being summoned by him, she shot back through clenched teeth, "We used the tunnels and got in through the boiler room. How else do you think we move around in this pit of a town, you blithering idiot? Now let us in, before you regret it, buster."

"I think not," he sneered at her. "I’ll let the lady of the house do it." Turning to the bedroom, he called out loudly, "Come out here for a bit, my dear. We have guests."

The three vampires fumed while they were kept waiting as they watched a pale and haggard looking woman, who appeared to be in her early 50’s, emerge slowly from the bedroom. She stopped for a moment to stare at Clarissa and the vampire could smell her fear, suspicion…and jealousy.

Sensing her hesitation, Crispin nodded his head in the vampire’s direction. "It’s all right Willow, he said soothingly. "They won’t hurt you while I am around to protect you. They work for me. Invite them in." Turning his back perfunctorily, the warlock sat down on the couch in the small living room

Willow muttered a forced invitation to the vamps and quickly sat down next to Crispin.

Recovering some of her composure, Clarissa swept in and glared at them both. "Well, well. Mr. and Mrs. Warlock at home. How charmingly domestic you look. Are you and your mother enjoying the Holiday season?"

"Spare me your feeble attempts at witticisms, you ignorant, blood sucking trollop. Oh and don’t sit down. You won’t be staying," Crispin told her as the vampire started to glide towards the easy chair next to the couch.

"Fine, whatever. Make it fast then, Skippy. I’m a busy woman. I’ve got places to go…people to kill."

"Yes, you do, but you don’t seem to be very efficient about it, do you?"

"Bite me, you misogynistic twerp. How I run my gang is my own business." Clarissa snorted.

"Not when you’re taking orders from Lord Tigranus, it’s not. He’s not happy with your repeated failures and foot-dragging with regard to the Slayer." Crispin couldn’t fail to notice that Willow stiffened a bit at the mention of her former friend.

"Hey, he’s the one who told me to lay off her for a while. I’m only following his orders"

"Fine, then. You can follow these. You’re to take the kid gloves off and go after her people with full force. They have a place they use as a sort of headquarters; a shop called the "Magic Box." You know it?"

"Yeah," she grumbled. "It’s uptown in the business district. I do have a question for you though, your magnificence."

"Which is?"

"What the hell am I supposed to do about that damned witch of theirs?"

Crispin smiled sweetly at her, cherishing the look of frustration on her face. "I would think the answer would be obvious to even an intellect as lacking as yours. To beat a witch, you send a more powerful witch against her."

Willow, who had been sitting quietly all this time, rubbing up against Crispin and attempting with limited success to nibble on his earlobe, suddenly found herself the target of intense scrutiny by three sets of demonic eyes.

"Hmm," Clarissa mused. "Might work. But then again, how much juice does the old girl have left in her? Looks to me like you’ve been snacking a lot. And how exactly do I know she’ll listen to me? Aren’t those pests supposed to be friends of hers? You sure you have her under control?"

"Shut up," Crispin hissed at her. "You’ll do what you’re told… and so will she. Won’t you, my dear? He said in a much sweeter tone to the witch.

As Willow nodded silently, the warlock began running his fingers through her hair.

"That’s right, love. You be a good little girl and go along with my friend Clarissa and back her up if she gets into any trouble. But before you go, I want you to do me a little favor. Stand up."

As Willow got up off the couch, Crispin leaned back and spread his arms out along the top of it.

"Now, get down on your knees," he ordered her.

She dropped down in front of him and he smiled wickedly at Clarissa again.

"I think you know what to do, pet." When she hesitated, he grabbed her hair at the back of her head and forced her forward.

Gulping audibly, the witch lowered her head and began to service her master, as the three smirking vampires watched her humiliation with obvious amusement.

***

Spike had a bad habit of muttering to himself when he was alone. Never comfortable with total silence, he tended to talk more the longer he spent without company. This particular moment was one of those times.

"I must be bloody well out of my mind. I’m not a soddin’ bloodhound.’

The thing of it was though that, for all intents and purposes, a bloodhound was exactly what he currently was. Almost literally, in fact.

He had been trailing his quarry for nearly three hours, ever since shortly after sunset, and the smell of fresh blood from their kills was still thick in his nostrils. He’d actually watched them kill the last one, a loud speaking and overweight delivery driver who couldn’t believe his luck when he had been propositioned by two pretty and scantily dressed blonde women, one of them still a teenager.

"Not so lucky after all, were you, mate?" Spike had muttered over the corpse, whose jugular vein had been sliced open with a solitary fingernail.

The two had certainly been busy little vampires. Now, fully fed and feeling the afterglow of their meals, they ambled slowly down the street, paying no attention to the rooftops or the shadowy leather clad figure that lurked above them dogging their every step but making no move to interfere with their activities.

He supposed he would get an earful from her if she ever found out that he had blithely hung back in the shadows while they ruthlessly killed three people without lifting a finger to stop it, but that would have to be her damned problem. That was the matter with her, well one of many things; she could never keep sight of the big picture, could she? What exactly was the point of shedding a solitary tear over some poor bastards that wouldn’t have shed one over her, even if they had known about all of the sacrifices she had made for them over the years?

"Stupid, bloody, pigheaded woman" he muttered again, this time a bit too loudly.

The older female stopped in her tracks for a moment and shushed the girl, who had been singing some god-awful Michael Jackson tune. Spike instantly flattened himself against a nearby chimney and hoped that they were too drowsy from eating to notice him. His hopes were rewarded as the older one sniffed the air for a few moments and then shrugged. The younger one, the girl who had been with Dawn on Halloween, whispered into her ear suggestively and ran her fingers across the other’s nearly exposed bosom. Giggling, the two continued to saunter almost drunkenly down the street.

That’s right, you stupid bints. Take me to your leader. Spike’s mood had been getting steadily worse since his confrontation with Buffy behind the Magic Box and right now he was in the mood to rip somebody’s head off and he wasn’t very particular about whose head it would be. As he followed his quarry towards the center of town and out through the main part of the business district, he continued to stew over his problems with the Slayer.

"She’s driving me bloody bonkers, she is," he muttered out loud again. This time the two females were far enough ahead of him not to notice. "If she keeps blowing hot and cold like this, I’m going to need to be fitted for a straightjacket."

He had to admit that she had done a masterful job of completely confusing him. Just when he thought he’d never see her again, she nearly screwed him to death, and now she can’t get involved with him? What, she thought he was just going to gamely submit to her wishes and disappear into the ether?

Not bloody likely sweetheart.

Spike suddenly stopped as he came upon an unexpected gap of about 50 feet between rooftops. Although it was a wide margin even for a vampire, he leapt it without a second thought, landing on the roof of a car dealership within clear sight of the old Sunnydale High School.

"Bingo." He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, as he watched the vampires glide over the grounds and eventually stop near the ruins of the old flagpole that still stood in front of the school’s main entrance. The entire gang of vampires that still followed the trollop from Los Angeles was assembled there, with the trollop in question at their head.

"Well, golly gee, Lysette," he heard Clarissa snort at the older blonde as she joined the group. "I’m so glad you could take time out of your busy schedule. Now, if we’re all here, I think we can get started with our plans for this evening."

"Which are?" Lysette asked in a decidedly disinterested voice.

"Why, to finish off that interfering busybody of a Slayer and her crew of do-gooders, of course. We’ll start with the mouseketeers first."

"Yeah, yeah. We’ve heard that before," came a voice from the back of the group. "All it ever gets us is more dusted friends."

"Oh, then you haven’t heard?" Clarissa replied in a surprisingly even tone. "We’ve got some help this time. Allow me to introduce you to our new secret weapon."

Spike could feel his jaw drop involuntarily as a familiar figure emerged from behind the vampire gang leader. There weren’t enough ‘bloody hells’ in the world. He watched silently, and helplessly, as the vampires filed off the school campus followed by a black clad Willow Rosenberg.

"Well, this is going to be more fun than barrel full of Fyarl demons, " he muttered as he braced himself for a very interesting evening.

****

Quiet, Dawn thought desperately. Blissful, serene, all encompassing silence.

The younger Summers sister sighed. Her head throbbed from searching pages and pages of ancient text for information, and by the look of things her headache wasn’t going to lighten up any time soon.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to clear her mind again. I’m on a desert island-a loud noise made her flinch-alone. A sly grin crept up her face. Well, I don’t have to be alone. I can share the island with Orlando Bloom. He’ll be sunbathing naked, of course…

"All I’m saying is, I’ve gotten rusty in my non-demon days!" Anya persisted loudly, oblivious to the way Dawn’s eyes flew open at her outburst.

"Bloody hell," Dawn muttered under her breath, rubbing her agonizing temples.

"You’re not rusty. Crispin fooled us all," Xander countered.

"I should have known something wasn’t right the moment he strolled in, all namby-pamby and ‘I like to meditate, please take my glorious money in exchange for scented oils while I seduce Willow with my gentle, nice-guy charm’," Anya replied, imitating his accent.

Xander paused a moment before commenting, "Crispin doesn’t have a lisp.

"Whatever. The point is that Anyanka would never have fallen for it," she pressed, her eyes falling on the cash register before her. "Although Anyanka never got to handle this much money…" she shook her head. "I’m falling apart in my old age!"

"You’re not old," Xander said soothingly. "Or falling apart," he added hastily.

"You think so?" Anya asked hopefully.

"I know so," he answered.

Dawn slammed her eyes shut once again to prevent herself from being subjected to one of their mushy, make-up/make-out sessions. I’m lying in a grassy field…in the middle of the night, staring at the spray of stars above…with Shane West…

"Dawnie?"

"What?" Dawn snapped, angry at being torn out of her second fantasy.

"Would you like to help me count the money?" Anya offered, pulling the cash drawer out of the register and setting it on the counter.

"No, thanks," Dawn declined, not in the mood to be any closer to Anya or Xander at the moment. "I should probably keep researching."

"Suit yourself," she replied, happily counting the bills before her.

Dawn collapsed on top of the books spread all over the table. Her head ached miserably. I’m in the restricted section of a library…late at night, very daring stuff…with the kid who plays Oliver Wood…

The chime of the Magic Box’s doorbell snapped her out of her latest dream. Dawn glanced up, expecting to see Buffy but found herself staring at Amy’s distraught face.

Amy rushed into the store, looking anxiously behind her. "Is Buffy here?"

"No, but she should be back any minute," Xander answered. "What’s up?"

"I really need to talk to her," Amy insisted, shaking slightly.

"She’s bound to walk through the door in a second," Xander repeated, keeping his voice steady and confident as he walked around the counter and towards her. "Why don’t you sit down until she gets back-" he reached out to touch her arm but she withdrew quickly.

"N-no. I’m fine standing," she said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Well, maybe sitting isn’t such a bad idea after all…" she sat down in a chair next to Dawn.

"Why do you need to speak with Buffy?" Xander asked slowly, after a moment.

"Because…" Amy took a deep breath, "Something bad is coming," she said uneasily. "Crispin is up to something majorly diabolical-"

"Oh, that hurts," an airy voice came from the door. "Whatever happened to Girl Power? Let’s not give the men all the credit," Clarissa finished, smiling demonically as her vampire minions stormed into the store.

Dawn counted four vampires as they swept in. Amy sprung up from her chair, Xander braced himself for a fight, and Anya frantically tried to replace the money drawer. Dawn blinked; the next thing she knew she was face-to-face with a snarling vamp.

She clutched the heavy book she was holding to her chest and ducked, narrowly missing the vampire’s swinging arm. Without hesitation, she stood up again, bringing the book up with all her strength. It collided with the underside of the vamp’s chin and the demon let out a growl as its head was jerked to the side from the force. Dawn swung again, but the vampire’s reflexes were much faster and it caught the book inches from its face. Wrenching it from her hands, the minion wasted no time in swinging its arms again, this time catching Dawn’s cheek in a nasty backhand.

The pain in her face was momentarily forgotten as she sailed across the table she had just been sitting at. Books flew at every angle, splattering the floor as they fell. Dawn crashed into a chair on the opposite side, destroying it as it broke under the force of her fall. Gasping for air, she clutched a piece of the wooden chair and stood up again, only to find that the vamp was already waiting for her.

Before she had a chance to strike, the demon grabbed her wrist and twisted it mercilessly until she dropped her only weapon. In another fluid motion, the vampire brought her arm around her back, wrenching it painfully as it stuck a leg between hers to prevent her from kicking or stomping. It draped it’s other arm tightly around her neck, allowing her just enough air to stay conscious.

Panting, Dawn surveyed the situation before her. Amy had been knocked unconscious, a slow trickle of blood dripping down her forehead as the vampire that attacked her watched her tensely. Xander was pinned in a similar fashion, his nose and lip clearly busted in the fight. Anya was squirming behind the counter, eyeing the money that had been tossed everywhere during the struggle.

The sound of someone clapping brought Dawn’s attention back to the entrance of the shop. Clarissa was applauding.

"Nice work, nice work," she praised, slowly advancing. "It’s good to have dinner wrapped up and ready to go in no time."

Xander spit blood on the floor.

"Now to decide what to do with each of you-ooh!" Clarissa paused as she reached the few stairs leading to the floor where they all stood. She stood straight, tossed her head back and descended the stairs, saying, "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille."

Dawn’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

Clarissa chuckled. "Oh my, I’ve still got it, haven’t I?"

"Yeah," Xander agreed, "You’re well-set on the crazy."

He was met with a very self-righteous, I-can’t-believe-you-said-that-on-our-first-date kind of slap.

"Manners, boy," she snarled. "I hope that’s not the way you treat all celebrities."

"No, it’s the way he talks to pathetic, psycho vamps who are nothing more than a tool in a real mastermind’s scheme," Dawn hissed. "By the way," she added sweetly, "I hope you got that shirt at half-price."

Clarissa advanced on Dawn, appearing un-insulted.

"You have no idea of what I have planned, honey," she said sweetly, looking Dawn up and down in a sickening way.

"Oh, and just so you know," Dawn continued, her eyes narrowing in hatred, "It’s ‘all right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up’, dumbass."

Correcting Clarissa’s acting performance pushed the vampire over the edge. Rage flared in her eyes as she lifted her arm to strike Dawn. She hesitated for a brief moment before bringing her arm back down and grinning wickedly.

"No, no…I don’t want to hurt your pretty little face, do I?" She said, more to herself than anyone else. She spun around, walking back to the middle of the shop.

"I believe I was about to reveal my gruesome, evil, and overall villainous plans for the group of you," she turned to Xander. "I think someone has a little trouble holding his tongue," she smiled. "Perhaps I’ll do you a favor and just remove it?"

Xander struggled against the vampire restraining him, but he was unable to free himself. He pressed his lips tightly together as Clarissa pressed herself against him, trailing her fingers along his jaw.

"Say ‘aah’," she ordered.

"NO!" Anya cried. "I can’t-I won’t-Xander does very good things with his tongue!"

Clarissa’s eyebrows shot up. "Does he, now? Hmm, I might take that into consideration," she purred as she pinched his cheek.

"But you," she turned on Anya, "What do you have to offer me?"

"Well…I’m very knowledgeable about demons, as I used to be one myself."

"Aww, is that all?" Clarissa pouted, leaning on the counter.

"N-no…I’m an excellent entrepreneur-just look at this shop!"

"You own this place?" Clarissa asked with mild interest as she began playing with the money in front of her.

"I do much more than that," Anya continued. "I’m very out-spoken, in a good way I believe, although sometimes Xander tells me otherwise-" she paused as she watched Clarissa touching her hard-earned cash. "I, uh, I’m all for the extermination of all bunnies-and-"

"And what?" Clarissa asked.

"Could you please stop touching my money?"

"Excuse me?" The vampire snarled.

"My money. You’re touching it, and I don’t like it. I’d appreciate it if you’d get your trashy, undead fingers off of it," Anya clarified.

"So you like money?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Would you like more?" Clarissa asked.

"Are rabbit’s feet the scariest things on key chains?" Anya replied. Off Clarissa’s blank look, she clarified, "Yes, I want more money."

"Here," Clarissa said, tearing the twenty dollar bill she’d been holding in half, "Now instead of one, you have two. Would you like me to rip more?"

"Oh, I’ll rip you another-" Anya was cut off by the vampire behind her covering her mouth.

"You sure that’s such a good idea?" Dawn said loudly. "After all, I’m sure what’s on that counter is more than you ever got in the movie business."

"Meow, this kitty’s got claws!" Clarissa remarked, leaving Anya still fuming at the counter as she got in Dawn’s face once more. "I like a little spunk."

"Tell me more, I care," Dawn replied sarcastically.

"If you insist, kitty," Clarissa said, the nature of the remark seeming to have gone way over her head. "Hey, weren’t you friends with a girl, about your age-a cheerleader?"

"I was never friends with any cheerleader," Dawn answered.

"Is that so? But you were at a little late night party with one, weren’t you?"

"Sunny," Dawn whispered.

"Ah, yes. That’s her name. Well, she’s been pretty bored lately, I figure she could use a playmate. I could use an eternal playmate, if you catch my drift. Now tell me, who in this room is the youngest, prettiest, and feistiest?"

Dawn bit her lip in silent fury.

"It’s okay, baby," Clarissa crooned, touching Dawn’s hair. "It’ll only hurt for a minute. "

Dawn continued to struggle against the vampire holding her while trying to think of a plan. Her mind went completely and utterly blank however; all she could think about was the demonic face in front of her, the iron grip holding her in place, and the fact that there was nothing she could do to stop Clarissa from biting her…

There was a quick blur of moment before her, and it took Dawn a second to realize Clarissa no longer stood in front of her, and that the vampire that had been holding her was now a heaping pile of dust. Twisting her head, she saw Spike wrestling with the vampire gang leader, his game face on as he jerked her to her feet. Clarissa squirmed as Spike held a wooden stake dangerously over her heart.

"Hurt another hair on their collective heads," he growled at the minions, "And her agent can look for lead roles to be played by a pile of dust."

Clarissa’s henchmen considered the ultimatum a moment too long, however, as she wriggled under his grip and spat, "Let them go! I’m way too pretty to die!"

The vampires reluctantly moved away from their prey at her command.

"Move together," Spike snapped. "Towards the door."

Suddenly, a vampire standing near the edges of the store dived forward over a chair and bowled Dawn over. Moving with incredible speed, it jerked the girl up by her sweater and held a clawed finger to her throat.

"Now it’s your turn, " it snarled at Spike. "Let her go."

"Thanks, honey" Clarissa blew a kiss to the big vamp. "Okay, blondie" she turned her head to Spike, even as he kept the stake leveled at her chest. "Ball’s in your court. Me in exchange for the pretty little human bitch. Deal?"

Spike, looking worried, nodded his head in ascent. "Your move, mate," He said to the vamp holding Dawn. "You don’t get your ‘better half’ here back until you let the girl go."

"You’ve got to be kidding," it snarled at Spike. "How can I trust you not to stake her once I let this one loose?" For emphasis, the vamp traced a path down Dawn’s throat with one fingernail.

"Look, chuckles. We can sit here all night, if you want. I’ve got plenty of sun-block in my coat. If you really feel like playing dodge the daylight in nine hours, let’s break out the cards," Spike responded airily.

"Terry," Clarissa hissed Dawn’s captor. " Since I don’t feel like spending the rest of my existence on this tacky floor in a pile, I think we can trust him just this once. Let her go."

Reluctantly, the vampire pulled his hand away from Dawn’s neck and didn’t attempt to stop her from scurrying behind Spike and the others. He then eased around the table to where the other vampires were gathering in front of the door.

There they stalled, only moving again after repeated head-nods of approval from their captive boss. Once they were almost out, Spike shoved Clarissa in their direction.

"Get. Out. Now," he roared.

"Fine. Fine!" Clarissa shouted. "It’s not like I could continue, anyway. You ruined my whole spiel with your ill-timed entry. Argh!" She tossed her hands in the air. "Can’t any of you simple minded, warm blooded creatures ever just let me have my moment?"

"Have you ever actually watched a movie? The good guys always win," a new but very, very familiar voice cut in.

*****

Dawn’s head snapped up along with everyone else’s, to see Buffy by the side entrance with Tara just behind her.

Buffy’s mouth quickly twisted into mock horror as her hand flew to cover her mouth. "Oh God, I hope I didn’t ruin the ending for you…?"

Clarissa let out a cry of fury before lunging at the Slayer. Her minions followed suit, heading back into the store towards their previous targets. Dawn swiftly squatted, retrieving her makeshift stake. She stood up, only to see the vampire that Clarissa had called Terry.

He glanced at her fist clenched around the stake and laughed. "Ooh, I’m so scared."

Dawn felt a surge of power and slammed her fist into his face before realizing what she had done. He stumbled, crashing into a bookcase. "You should be," Dawn snapped before plunging the stake into his chest. To their mutual surprise, he didn’t dissolve into dust.

"The stake’s not deep enough," Buffy called while exchanging blows with Clarissa.

"Oh. Right," Dawn mumbled. Still dazed from the blow she delivered earlier, the vampire was too sluggish to prevent her from taking a thick ancient volume and swinging it into the end of the stake, driving it home. She tossed the book aside and turned to survey the rest of the action.

Abruptly, the powerful sensation she felt before left her body. A second later, her knuckles burned and she glanced down to see they were raw and slightly bruised. Putting two and two together, she glanced in Tara’s direction. A burst of light flew from the witch’s hands, knocking the vampire hovering over Anya clear across the room and impaling it an upturned table leg. Dawn then looked at Amy, who had recently regained consciousness on the floor, and caught a wink.

"Thanks for the help," she said as she extended a hand.

"No problem," Amy smiled as she accepted Dawn’s help in standing up.

Seeing her paramour bite the dust, Clarissa screamed with rage. "You killed Terry! You bastards! Kill them all, you morons!"

Meanwhile, Xander writhed under the grip of another minion that had pinned him to the floor. Before Dawn had a chance to help out, Anya brought the now-empty cash drawer down upon its head, allowing Xander to gain the upper hand. Without hesitation, he snatched a stake that had been lost earlier in the fight and used it to end the vampire’s un-life.

At nearly the same moment, Spike successfully decapitated one of the other surviving minion, using an old scythe from one of the Magic Box’s many weapon chests. The only pair still fighting was Buffy and Clarissa. Rather, Clarissa had already lost pitifully and was attempting to crawl away before Buffy wrenched her up and shoved her into Spike’s grip.

"Now," she panted, "It’s my turn to talk."

"You can’t beat the answer out of me!" Clarissa yelled defiantly.

"I didn’t even ask you a question," Buffy replied impatiently. "Now listen-tell me what Crispin’s planning."

"No."

Buffy wasted no time punching her. "What is he ordering you to do?" She demanded harshly.

"Nothing!" Clarissa shouted, cowering from the previous blow.

Buffy raised her arm again, but just before delivering another hit she let it drop. "How very unlike you to hold back your plans. I mean, don’t the bad guys always spill their ingenious plans sooner or later? Perhaps all you need is a little…persuasion."

"What…how…are you going to persuade me?"

"Oh, I think a little sponge bath should do the trick," Buffy answered sweetly.

"Sponge bath? I think I like your kind of torture," Clarissa purred.

"Really? Well, you might change your mind," Buffy rummaged through a weapons chest in the back, "After you’ve experienced it."

Apparently having found what she was looking for, Buffy strode back to where Clarissa was being captive by Spike’s grip, grabbing a decorative cloth from one of the display shelves.

"You see, this is a very…special kind of water," Buffy added.

"Pretty sacred," Xander agreed.

"You might even call it ‘holy’," Tara smirked.

Clarissa’s eyes widened in fear. She thrashed wildly against Spike, but her efforts were fruitless. "Get that away from me!" She demanded as Buffy began to pour the holy water on the cloth.

"Aww, but I thought you said you’d enjoy it?" Buffy said, holding the dripping material inches from the vampire. "You have a smudge on your face-did I do that before? I’m sorry, let me clean it up for you…"

Slowly, the Slayer brought the cloth near Clarissa’s right temple, where something had indeed smudged her face. The material was so saturated that several droplets fell from it and landed on her shoulder, sizzling as it hit skin. A second before it touched her face, she yelled, "Stop!"

Buffy withdrew the cloth. "So, you’ve decided to tell the truth now?"

"I was telling the truth before, you idiot," Clarissa snapped. "I’m not taking any damn orders from Crispin," she practically spat his name.

"You’re not?"

"No-ouch!" Clarissa cried as some excess holy water dribbled on her arm.

"Sorry," Buffy replied, moving her arm away.

"Crispin’s not in charge! He’s taking orders too."

"What?" Tara exclaimed.

"You’re lying," Buffy stated, although she instinctively knew that the vampire was not.

A smug look crossed Clarissa’s face. "Well, looks like the plot thickens after all! And you were so sure you’d figured everything out."

"Would you prefer I use this as eye drops?" Buffy threatened, shoving the cloth in her face again.

"No! Sorry, I’ll shut up now," Clarissa replied.

"On the contrary, I think you’ll tell us exactly who is running this operation," Buffy corrected her. "And don’t waste my time."

Eying the dripping material in Buffy’s hand, Clarissa sighed and mumbled, "He’s a Malthusian."

"What was that?" Note to self, Buffy thought. Pay more attention to Anya.

"We’re taking orders from a Malthusian demon, okay? Tigranus of whatever. Crispin is just a stupid Irish tool he needed to seduce that witch to complete his plans."

"I’m starting to think you don’t like the guy," Xander quipped.

"What sort of plans would those be?" Buffy pressed.

"A resurrection-dealie. I dunno, he’s all hung up on bringing back this Goddess chick-Gabby, or something."

For a moment, the very briefest of moments, time within the store came to a halt, as the enormity of what Clarissa had said sank into the Scoobies collective consciousness. Then, just as suddenly, the moment was shattered as Buffy’s free hand shot out and gripped Clarissa’s throat.

"Do you mean Glory?"

"Yeah, yeah" Clarissa squeaked, "That sounds about right."

"How is he going to resurrect her?"

"You’re on top of the hell-fricking-mouth, how do you think he’s going to do it?" Clarissa spat. "He keeps talking about harnessing the demonic energies that are coming out it right now. It’s got something to do with the Winter Solstice or something pointlessly boring like that. And that’s all I know, I swear."

"Yeah, I believe you. Tie her up," Buffy ordered. "We can force more out of her later. Dawn, Anya, Xander-hit the books again. I want to know anything and everything about this Tigranus character. Strengths, weaknesses, whatever you can find. Tara, Amy, I’m assuming you can help us out in the Magical department?"

"It won’t matter," a familiar voice boomed from behind her, "Since you’re up against me."

Buffy barely saw Willow’s face before a bolt of green light hit her in the chest and sent her skidding across the floor. A moment later she was joined by Spike as he too was hit by a spell.

"You," Willow pointed at Clarissa, "Come with me." The witch was surrounded by three female vampires, one of them a blonde looking little older than Dawn.

Buffy attempted to get to her feet but the task seemed impossible; the spell that hit her must have drained her power. Her limbs felt heavy and discombobulated, and she merely collapsed again. Something was wrong with Willow’s voice; it was unnaturally low, as if she were being possessed.

Tara attempted to stop Willow with magick of her own, however the blonde witch was knocked clear across the room with a simple flick of the other’s hand.

Seeing her chance to escape, Clarissa bolted for the door. As she reached it, she turned to smirk at the incapacitated Scoobies, all of whom were struggling against the effects of Willow’s magick.

"See you later, nimrods, and please always remember and never forget these immortal words of wisdom: Evil will always triumph over Good…because Good is dumb."

With that, she spun on her heel and motioned Willow and the others follow her.

"Come along, dearie."

The witch did as she was told, following the vampires out of the shop and into the darkness beyond.

******

"You know, I think I’m beginning to see a pattern here," Xander moaned out loud to no one in particular as he pulled himself off of the floor. "That vamp is definitely a ten on the destructo-meter."

Looking at the carnage that Clarissa and Willow had left behind in the shop, Buffy had to agree, as she grunted in pain and struggled to get back on her feet. Halfway up, she was greeted by an extended hand. She grasped it instinctively and allowed herself to be pulled up, only to come face to face with Spike.

"Easy, Slayer. You’ve had a bit of a shock. Are you all right?" He asked the question with genuine concern in his voice.

"I’m fine," she said shortly, although she was fairly sure she had bruised a couple of ribs when she hit the floor. Brushing past him, she "Look, I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but is everyone all right?"

There was a chorus of muttered responses, all indicating that nobody had suffered any serious damage. The shop itself though was another matter entirely.

The Magic Box was an absolute wreck. Shelves had been knocked over, scattering dozens of books all over the floor. Several scorch marks, the results of Willow’s random bolts of magick, now adorned the walls. The large meeting table that they often used for research had several scratches in it and at least two of the chairs were smashed beyond all hope of repair. The chief casualty of the raid though had been Anya.

She stood staring at the damage, tears streaming down her face, as Xander put his arm around her in comfort. All that was left of the money that Clarissa had been fondling was smoking ash.

"Anya, are you okay?" Buffy asked her.

"What am I going to tell, Giles?" the ex-demon wailed. "He trusted me to run the place in his absence…and look at it!"

"That’s okay, Ahn," Xander told her gently. "The damage isn’t too bad. I can fix it without too much trouble. I think we can replace the chairs easily enough…"

"Oh screw the damned furniture," she snapped at him. "What am I going to do about the money? There must have been almost fifty dollars in there!"

"Oh brother," Dawn, who was just now brushing vampire dust off her sleeves muttered.

Buffy cut her off with a savage glare. "I’m sorry for your loss, Anya, but I’m sure you’ll make it back. Okay, now that we know everyone’s all right I guess it’s time we made a decision."

"About what?" Xander asked her.

"Don’t be a ponce, Harris," Spike jumped in. "She’s talking about ‘Red.’ It’s bloody well obvious that she’s playing for the other side now."

"So, what are we supposed to do. Kill her? Just shut up Spike," Xander sneered back at him angrily. Looking around the group for moral support against the vampire, he quickly realized all he was getting were a lot of downward glances.

"Buffy, you can’t be seriously thinking of doing what I think you’re thinking of…"

Buffy shook her head. "I don’t know what I’m going to do about Willow, Xander, but it’s pretty clear I’m going to have to do something and do it now. You heard super slut. Crispin and this Malthusian thing are planning on resurrecting Glory somehow using the Hellmouth. Do you have any idea what would happen if it somehow works? Who her first target would be."

All eyes shifted involuntarily to Dawn.

"I’m not going to let that happen," Buffy continued. "I don’t care what I have to do to stop it. I don’t care who I have to kill to stop it. Are we all clear on this? Because if we’re not, you all can just…"

"Buffy, you can’t," Dawn interrupted her older sister in a stricken voice. "It’s Willow. You can’t even be thinking about hurting her."

"And what’s the alternative, Dawnie? Do I watch you get sliced open again? Gee, maybe Glory will finally go home this time? Do you honestly think I would ever let that bitch touch you again? The discussion’s over. I’ve made up my mind."

"But…" Xander tried to argue.

"No." Tara’s voice broke into the conversation. She had been helping Amy clean herself up, but now she walked over to Buffy and stood at her side. "Buffy’s right. Crispin has to be stopped. That’s the main thing here. I don’t want Willow hurt any more than you or Dawn do, but this is bigger than either of us. Or any of us. We’ve got to do what needs to be done and face the consequences afterwards. Like we always do"

She looked at Amy who nodded her agreement. Slowly, the rest of the group nodded.

"All right then," Buffy continued. "That’s settled. We’re going after Clarissa and Crispin tonight and we’re going to end this once and for all. Tara, do you have any idea how to get past their defenses?

"I-I’ve been working on some new spells with Amy this week," she replied. "I think that together we can get past them...if we time it just right and we have a distraction."

"Right," the Slayer nodded. "That’s where I come in. Spike, you’re sure they’re laired under the old High School?"

"Yeah, they’re still using the place all right. I followed them here from there."

"Fine. You and Xander can break out the heavy weapons then. We’ll hit the place in about an hour. Tara, you and Amy follow behind us, just to make sure ‘Warlock boy’ hasn’t left us any nasty magical surprises."

She turned to Anya "I want you to take Dawn home and stay with her.

"Umm, I don’t know, Buffy. I should stay with the money…"

"Anya, listen to me carefully," Buffy said in an even but obviously forced tone. "If things go really badly, I want you to take my mom’s car and get out of town. Go to LA. I’ll give you Angel’s address before you leave. He knows what to do in case, well…just in case."

"Well, I suppose I could use a vacation. I wonder how Cordelia is doing these days? Probably still having major relationship problems…"

"Hey, just a minute," Dawn spoke up. "Buffy, you can’t just send me away like this. I’ve got a right to help.

"No, you don’t. You’re staying with Anya and that’s that.

"She’s right, Nibblet," Spike added. "This fight is for the grownups."

"But it’s not fair," Dawn continued to whine. "I can help you, you saw me stake that vampire…"

"You got lucky, Dawn" Buffy told her. "Look, I know you mean well, but we’re going into battle soon. You’re got no real combat experience and no magical skills. And you’re only fifteen years old. I want you to live to see your sweet sixteenth birthday party. I’m serious Dawnie. You’re going home with Anya and you’re going to do what she tells you, okay?"

The teenager stuck her chin out defiantly for a moment but she quickly realized that her sister was right and that the others completely agreed with Buffy.

"Yeah, fine" she pouted.

"Okay, then," Buffy took a deep breath and exhaled. "If everybody knows what they need to be doing now, then we should all start doing it."

The group began to go off in different directions. Spike and Xander immediately began arguing about who was going to get the best broadsword. Tara and Amy began gathering up magic supplies, while Dawn helped Anya pick up books. For the first time that evening, Buffy was left on her own for a minute.

Well here we are again, she thought to herself. Another desperate fight against desperate odds. You’d think dying twice would earn me a little break once in a while but apparently I lost the ‘you deserve a break today’ sweepstakes at birth. Oh, well. Enough with the introspection. Time to go into Slayer mode again.

She started walking to the back of the store where she could hear Xander demanding to know the location of the battleaxe from Spike.

"Showtime." She said out loud to herself as she strolled into the training room to get ready for the coming battle.