Finding the town’s Master was easier than Spike would have thought. All he had to do was follow some clueless vamps, who led him straight to what seemed to be a club. It didn’t seem that security was a big issue for this clan. Then again, they might not know yet that there was a new Slayer in town. They would figure that out soon enough.

Spike had seen lairs such a this one before, with caged humans, bodies abandoned here and there and vampires simply celebrating the night in any way they wanted, but it had never been in such an open setting. He entered the place without anyone questioning him, and he had gone through most of the club, mapping it out in his head, before someone stopped him as he was about to push a curtain and enter a room on the side.

“You’re not one of us,” the male vamp said, pressing his hand flat on Spike’s chest to stop him. Spike didn’t reply and only glared until the hand had dropped. As much assurance as the young man projected, he was only a fledgling. A favored one, maybe, but young, no more than a year old, Spike would have bet. Few of the vampires in the club seemed any older. It would make things far simpler when it was time to fight.

“I’m new in town,” he said, taking one last drag on his fag and blowing smoke in the kid’s face. Flicking the stub to the floor, he made a point to hit the vamp’s boot with it. “’Thought I’d pay my respect to the resident Master.”

The vampire’s face darkened dangerously. “He’s not taking visits. And you’d better leave our territory before I…”

“Xander?”

The vamp – Xander, was it? What kind of name was that? – turned toward the curtain. A red-haired girl had pulled it open just enough to peek through.

“The Master says he will talk to him.”

She indicated Spike with a tilt of her head. Her mouth was a thin line that said she wasn’t too happy with the message she was delivering. Neither was Xander, if Spike was to judge by the glowering look the boy gave him.

“You heard her,” he said with a tight smile that held no warmth and gestured toward the closed curtain.

Spike nodded, but he knew better than to leave his back exposed like this. “After you.”

Xander grimaced but he walked in, his back tense in anticipation of an attack; Spike followed, wondering what he would find.

Whatever he had expected, discovering his line’s Master, old batty himself, had not been part of it. He hadn’t given a second thought to the supposedly founder of his line in decades, not since Darla had abandoned Drusilla and him to return to her Sire. The pain of thinking of Dru was a brief flash of blinding heat that reminded him of his purpose. He was here to play an act, gather information that would keep the Slayer safe until he was ready to kill her himself. The act required him to play by the rules, even if he didn’t care much for them. And so he gracefully put one knee to the ground, receiving a light nod in reply, his cue to stand again. Even seated as he was in a leather armchair, the Master had a commanding look about him that Spike remembered well; it was the look of someone who was not used to have anything or anyone stand in his way for long. Spike wasn’t sure whether that meant the fight would be easier or more difficult.

“William. How… unexpected.”

Spike struggled to keep the grimace off his face as he replied. “Spike, if you please Master.”

A slow smile pulled at the distorted features of the Master. “Yes, of course. How silly of me to have forgotten. Spike, the slayer of Slayers. And with manners, now, it seems.”

Spike accepted the jab with a tight smile of his own. Their last encounter had been a bit more… tense – and a lot more painful on Spike’s side when he hadn’t demonstrated enough respect for his elder.

“But without the seer,” the Master continued after a second, his voice turning to a mix of disappointment and puzzlement. On each side of him, Xander and Red listened intently, trying to understand what was going on.

“Drusilla is dead.”

The words tasted like ashes and Spike’s throat was tightening, as were his fists. Beyond the grief, he could see now how it had been a mistake to walk in like this, without knowing what or who would greet him. If he had done his research, he might have had a story ready about Drusilla’s death. Explaining that a Slayer had killed her would only lead to questions about who this Slayer was, and that wasn’t a place where Spike wanted to tread. He needn’t have worried though; the Master didn’t ask.

“I see. I cannot say I am surprised to hear it. If anything, I am surprised she lived so long. Certainly, the credit goes to you.”

With a nod, Spike accepted the praise and its underlying condemnation; if he had kept Drusilla alive for so long, he was also to blame for not preventing her death. He had repeated this truth to himself often enough.

“So, what brings you to our beautiful town?” the Master asked on a jovial tone, sweet as honey laced with poison. “A return to your clan, maybe?”

“I can’t say I knew you were here before I passed that curtain,” Spike admitted with a shrug. “Heard of a Hellmouth, thought I’d look for a bit of fun.”

“Of course. You’re quite welcome to stay with us, if you wish. You know I take care of mine.” The exposed fangs might have been a grin. “Which reminds me… Willow dear, why don’t you go play with the puppy for a while. It wouldn’t do to have him feel neglected, now, would it?”

The redhead was practically beaming when she took the key proffered by the Master before going to the back of the room. Xander followed her instants later after a nod from the Master, leaving Spike and him alone.

“This town is mine,” he said, his tone far less pleasant now as he stood. Behind him, in the room where Willow and Xander had disappeared, agonized cries started to rise. “As long as you understand this, William, you and I will get along just fine. But if you cross me…” He tilted his head back toward the shouting, giving the appearance of listening intently. “Let’s just say that I’m sure Willow wouldn’t mind a new play thing. She hasn’t said anything, sweet little thing that she is, but I think she’s getting bored of Angelus.”

Spike didn’t react to the threat. He couldn’t afford to react to it. Reacting would mean that he had something to hide, and it would be as bad as simply admitting he was, albeit temporarily, fighting alongside the Slayer.

“The town is yours,” he replied calmly. “I’ve got no problem with that. I trust that I am free to hunt?” On the Master’s nod, he continued. “I don’t plan on being here very long in any case. Just visiting.”

The old bat seemed about to say something, but finally kept his mouth shut.

Gesturing toward the back of the room, Spike asked, “Can I?” and was granted permission with a benevolent wave of the Master’s hand. He walked there without hurrying, taking note that no guards were protecting the Master now that Xander was otherwise occupied. Overconfidence.

As he entered the back room, he remained next to the door and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he observed the proceedings. He hadn’t truly believed the Master when he had mentioned Angelus, and yet, there he was, both Spike’s eyes and sense of smell were saying as much. Willow was sitting astride his hips, and laughing as Angelus shouted every time she let a lit match fall upon his chest.

“He tried to take down the Master, a couple of months back,” Xander commented idly from the other side of the door, his eyes never leaving the scene in front of them. “He was working with humans, of all things. He even killed his own Sire.”

Spike startled at that and gave Xander a fleeting glance, speaking without thinking. “He dusted Darla? Didn’t think the bastard had it in him.”

Having seen enough, Spike returned to the Master. What he had just witnessed had left him strangely indifferent. He had his own reasons to be angry with Angelus, but this kind of torture wasn’t really his thing, and he had found no particular enjoyment in it. Still, he could pretend with the best of them.

“Nice show,” he complimented the Master. “Your girl’s a treat.”

“She is, isn’t she?” the Master said almost fondly. “Vicious little thing. You should see her kill.” He paused, giving Spike a long, weighing look. “I am giving a small… party, of sorts, the night after next. Come, if you are still in town. It will be a night to remember for centuries.”

Inclining his head, Spike murmured thanks at the invitation, and filed away the bit of knowledge. If the Slayer had come all this way, it had to be to fight something big. This seemed like just the thing.

“Sunrise will come soon,” the Master noted. “Why don’t you stay with us today. You can tell me more about these Slayers you killed, and I will tell you how I plan to forever change the way we feed.”

Spike wasn’t really of a mind to do either, but refusing now would have been too much of an offense, and he didn’t want to make an enemy of the Master – at least not quite yet.

The more she thought about it, the more Buffy regretted having listened to Giles. She was the Slayer; he was a librarian. What did he now about making plans and deciding when to attack?

She had gone to his school to meet the students who supposedly fought with him – children, all of them! And the atmosphere of the school had been creepy, everybody looking as though they expected vampires to come out of the nearest locker, no matter that it was the middle of the day. She had quickly had too much of it and had left the school, intending to walk through the town and get a better sense of its layout. Knowing her battleground was key; it had been one of her very first lessons.

Nightfall finally came, and Buffy started returning toward the school when she came across two vamps chasing a human. They had the girl huddling on the ground, and she would be dead soon unless Buffy intervened. She happily did, striding toward the scene with determination. After a day of restless recon, a couple of dustings would be just what she needed.

“Look, Xander,” the female vamp drawled, taking the male’s attention off the easy prey at his feet. “This one doesn’t even try to run.”

“Indeed. It might be just the kind of fun you wanted, Wil.”

He was already vamped out when he looked toward Buffy, grinning as though he knew a joke she didn’t. She had seen the look on many vampires’ faces right before she dusted them. They never seemed to take her seriously until she started kicking their sorry asses. Spike was the exception; from their first fight, he had always been ready for her, even when he taunted her or made stupid jokes.

The female started walking toward Buffy, but before she had taken more than a couple of steps, the girl on the ground cried out.

“Thank God, Buffy! You’ve got to help me, this is hell, we have to make things right again!”

A quick look assured Buffy that she had no clue who the girl was, apart from a big fan, certainly. The two vamps however seemed interested to hear who she was.

“So that’s the Slayer?” the male snickered. “That little thing?”

“She doesn’t look very impressive,” the female agreed. “Spike made it sound like epic battles, but if they’re all like that they can’t be very hard to kill.”

Buffy took the comment in stride; these vamps knew Spike, and he had told them about killing Slayers. So much for his so-called truce.

She was finally about to reach the female when a van flew out of nowhere and came to a halt in the fury of screeching tires.

Within seconds, it was over. The two vamps had fled, leaving behind a babbling almost-victim that was clinging to Giles and a rather peeved Buffy who wished she hadn’t looked away and dusted them instead. She could have tracked them, but she let herself be convinced to return to the library and hear what the girl, Cordelia, had to say exactly, and why she was both so surprised and relieved that Buffy was there.

As it turned out, Cordelia was nuts. There was no other way to explain her ramblings about making a wish in another universe with another Sunnydale and a different Buffy.

“Can we get back on track here?” Buffy finally snapped at Giles, having heard enough. “You were supposed to tell me where to find the Master. Or I could just go out and find him myself!”

“Or you could let the Master come to you,” a sweet voice said from the top floor of the library.

“Or in this case, the Master’s hands,” a second voice added, this one male.

Cordelia shrieked as she took several steps backward and away from the two vamps from earlier, who were now accompanied by Spike. Giles cursed quietly; he had, after all, left guards outside. Buffy merely reached for her crossbow on the table and aimed it up at Spike. Before firing, she couldn’t help it, she had to let him know she had never fallen for his trick.

“I knew that truce thing was just a trap.”

The two other vamps exchanged a look at that, then both turned to face Spike; they were dust the very next second.

“You were saying, Slayer?” he asked, leaning against the railing, a stake in each hand.

Taken aback, Buffy lowered her crossbow – just barely – but didn’t take her gaze off Spike. Behind her, Cordelia sounded like she was ready to have a nervous breakdown.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Xander! And Willow! Spike killed Xander and Willow! This isn’t hell. It’s worse than hell. It’s worse than anything I could have imagined. I so have to get out of here. Giles! You got to make things right again! Fix this world!”

But Giles had stopped listening. His eyes were going from Spike to Buffy, and he was muttering under his breath. The only thing Buffy understood was a slightly exasperated question. “What the hell is going on?”

Buffy could have asked the very same thing.