Rating: PG-13

Category: Crossover, Drama

Standard Disclaimers Apply. "Enterprise" characters owned by Paramount, "Buffy" and "Angel" characters owned by Mutant Enemy.

Special thanks to Marion for betaing this monster for me. You rock!

~*~*~

2001

If the officials of Sunnydale had any common sense, they would have installed streetlights in the numerous dark alleys that dissected the small Southern California community. As it was, they hadn't and probably wouldn't. Besides, anyone with an iota of common sense would avoid dark alleys after nightfall.

Unless you were being chased into one.

The aged man stumbled over his own tired feet as he tore down yet another alley. He knew he was lost, but all his fear-addled brain told him was to run. Run from the monster that was chasing him.

His navy blue robe fluttered like a bride's train around his ankles, threatening to send him tumbling. Robes weren't designed for running, after all. If he'd known his arrival would have been greeted in such a manner, he would have brought protection with him. As it was, he had no one and his energy source had been tapped out for the moment. He wasn't even positive the one he sought was in this town. But this is where he had been led. And time was running short.

The man turned another corner and skidded to a stop. A ten-foot brick wall blocked his path. He stood for a few moments, panting hard to regain his breath. A sharp chill etched up his spine. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

"I know you're there," he said. He had a lilting British accent, softened by decades of being away from his homeland.

A deep, gravely chuckle seemed to envelop him from all sides. It was taunting, harsh and joyful all at once. The old man turned slowly to face his pursuer.

The demon stared back at the old man, its large eyes glowing purple in the dim light. Its skin was black as pitch and shiny as oil. Both arms ended in a three-prong claw that twitched in anticipation. Its mouth was a hole below the eyes, with neither lips nor tongue. Yet it was somehow able to speak.

"You have it," the demon grumbled, its voice reminiscent of metal scraping on metal. "Give it to me."

"No," the old man said automatically. Time was running out. He had to find the James boy.

The demon wailed a thick, grating yell of rage and launched itself at the old man. Its claws snapped at his robe. The man ducked and managed to dash past the hulking thing. But his old feet tangled and he fell hard to the pavement. The amulet bounced from the folds of his robe and landed in a small puddle.

"The Warden," the demon rasped.

Its purple eyes fixed on the necklace, ignoring the old man completely. It walked right across his back, its sheer weight snapping his spine in several sections. The old man wailed softly

.

"It's mine," it said, reaching down to pick it up.

A sneakered foot slammed into the demon's back in a hard high kick. It went flying forward, over the talisman and up against a dumpster. The creature shook its head, trying to right itself.

A shadow fell over him and a young voice taunted, "Don't you know it's not nice to steal?"

Buffy hurled herself at the demon, who dodged the kick moments before she connected with the dumpster. It rolled away, then came up in a crouch. Buffy stood, ready to fight it. But the creature was once again fixated on the necklace. The old man gave another soft cry and breathed no more. The demon's eyes never left the talisman and it did not see the body of the old man fade into nonexistence.

"The Warden," it rasped again.

"What, this?" Buffy asked, bending to pick up the talisman. It was the size of a silver dollar, made of solid gold. In the center was a gemstone the size of a dime. The colors of the gem seemed to flicker and swirl in the dark light. A thin ring of writing surrounded the gem.

The demon growled, its rage sending chills up Buffy's spine. Purple eyes flashed almost black. It charged, its claws slashing the air in front of it. Buffy ducked its charge, spinning around with a backward kick. The instant her foot touched the demon, she felt a surge of electricity from the talisman. It traveled instantaneously from her hand, through her body and into the demon.

It shrieked and howled, the sound of a thousand machines being twisted into scrap. She stepped away and the demon slowly melted into a large puddle of black goo. It bubbled like hot tar, its scent nauseating in its strength.

"Okay," Buffy muttered. "That' so gross."

~*~*~

2152

The ship drifted dead in space, kept centered in the view screen by Enterprise's sensors. It looked like a souped-up boxcar with a small propulsion system thrown on for decoration. It certainly couldn't travel very fast.

"Still no response to hails," Hoshi reported.

"Life signs?" Captain Archer asked pensively. He perched on the very edge of the command chair with his eyes fixed on the screen.

At her station, T'Pol peered into her viewer. "Inconclusive," she finally said.

Archer's intense gaze swung toward T'Pol. "What does that mean exactly?"

"I am uncertain, Captain," T'Pol said. "There is an unusual form of radiation coming from inside their ship. It is making it impossible for sensors to fully determine if there are life signs aboard."

"It looks like a boomer ship," Mayweather spoke up, his eyes also fixed on the listing ship. "But a very old one. It's been out here a long time."

"Can you find a name or registry?" Archer asked.

"Not yet, sir," Lt. Reed reported from his console. "There doesn't appear to be any hull damage. No signs of weapons fire or collision damage."

"Nothin's runnin', either," Tucker said. "Except life support, and that looks like it's at minimal levels."

T'Pol's view beeped softly. She spun in her chair and gazed into it. Her left eyebrow twitched once, and then she looked up. "There does appear to be one life sign, Captain. Human and very faint."

Archer shifted on the seat, almost slipping off the soft leather. He found his bridge crew gazing at him, waiting for a decision. After a moment's deliberation, he stood up.

"Mr. Reed, comm Dr. Phlox and both of you meet me in the Launch Bay," Archer said. "We're going over there."

~*~*~

Life support was functioning on the boomer ship, so there was no need for the EV suits. But the temperature was unusually low. Archer watched his breath puff out in front of him in small clouds of vapor. Soft blue lights lined the bottom edges of the corridor, providing a bit more illumination than their flashlights.

Archer led his team down the long corridor toward what should be the bridge. Phlox followed close behind, his medical tricorder activated and recording. Reed brought up the rear, the only person wearing a weapon. If the crew was dead, there were no bodies so far.

The corridor ended with a large door. Archer pushed a button and it slid open. Beyond it was a small rectangular room, less than half the size of his own bridge. It was very dark, pulling in a little light from the stars and their own flashlights. A navigator's console and communication station sat in the center of the room. Along the walls were various other stations. One long window lined the front of the room, instead of a view screen of any kind. A recessed seat, what could only be the captain's chair, was situated in the wall opposite the window. All of the consoles were dead, powerless.

And there were no people.

Archer walked over to the captain's seat. A brass plaque was mounted above it with the simple inscription SS WARDEN, 2043.

"Pre-warp," Archer said.

"How long do you think it's been drifting?" Reed asked, wandering over to what was probably the weapons console. A very tiny one.

Archer wiped his finger over the nearby surface. No dust. "Not very long," he replied, remembering the blue track lighting "There's still some power left."

"Captain?" Phlox asked. He stood in the middle of the room, gazing down at his tricorder.

"What is it?" Archer asked.

"I believe I have isolated the life sign, sir," Phlox replied. He pointed to the captain's chair. "Behind that bulkhead."

"Behind the bulkhead?" Archer repeated.

"Yes," Phlox said. "Perhaps a bit below, also."

Reed walked over and knelt down by the chair. He and Archer felt along the edges of the chair. It seemed to be one large piece of metal. There was a seam there. Archer dug his fingers under it and felt something give.

"On three," he told Reed.

Both men wrapped their arms around the chair, ready to give a hard tug.

"One," Archer said. "Two…three."

They pulled. The square seat came out of its space with a screech of metal against metal. Both men fell flat on their behinds, quickly pulling their feet away before the chair could come down and crush them. Phlox touched a small depression in the console left of where the chair had been. A latch popped.

"I believe that may have saved some effort," Phlox said.

As Reed and Archer scrambled to their feet, Phlox peered into the space created by the removal of the chair. A steel ladder led down into darkness.

"Curious," Reed remarked.

Archer shined his flashlight down the hole. It hit a smooth floor less than six feet down. But whatever was down there seemed to stretch out in all directions. They got a whiff of stale air, sweat and excrement.

"Looks like some sort of storage container," Archer said. "You think it could be smugglers?"

"It's possible," Reed said. "Let's see if we can't find that life sign. Shine the light for me, sir."

Archer positioned his flashlight to illuminate as much of the compartment as he could. Reed un-holstered his phase pistol and carefully descended the ladder. When he reached the bottom, Archer dropped the flashlight down to him and followed him down.

The compartment wasn't as big as he'd assumed. The walls and floor were made of a slick material that reflected the light and created the illusion of size. But if it was a smuggler's storage, no one was using it now. Phlox joined them, wrinkling his nose. The smells were even stronger.

"Over there," Reed said. His flashlight beam cut through the darkness to the port side of the ship. A blue-robed figure lay face-down in a corner of the room.

The three walked over, Phlox immediately scanning him.

"He's dead," Phlox reported. "His back was broken in several places. But very recently, he hasn't been dead more than a couple of hours."

A low moan startled all three men. They turned in unison, shining their lights toward the farthest corner from their position. A man was huddled into the corner, his back to them. Reed crossed the distance first, Phlox and Archer close behind. He carefully touched the man's shoulder, turning him toward them.

He was very thin, probably in his late forties. He had dark blonde hair that needed a trim and a wash, and a week-old beard. His gray jumpsuit was rumpled. There was an empty water container near his head, but no other food. There were no restraints to prove he had been a prisoner.

Phlox knelt next to the man, scanning him. "He's malnourished and dehydrated, and he's probably in shock." He pointed to a mark on his neck, two small puncture wounds covered in dried blood. "There's also a large amount of blood loss. I need to get him to Sickbay as quickly as possible, Captain." He took a hypospray from his medical bag and depressed it to the stranger's neck. "This should stabilize him for now."

Archer flipped open his communicator. "Archer to Enterprise."

"Go ahead," T'Pol acknowledged.

"Set us up to dock with this ship," he said. "We have a wounded man who needs medical attention. And have Commander Tucker prepare an Engineering team. If we can get some power to these systems, maybe we can find out what the hell happened to the rest of the crew."

"Understood, sir," she replied. "Enterprise out."

As Archer put his communicator away, he heard Reed mutter, "What the hell?"

"What is it, Malcolm?" Archer asked.

Reed knelt down where he stood and ran his finger along the floor. "Looks like ash, sir."

"Ash?" Archer echoed.

"Yes, sir," Reed said. "Just seemed an odd thing to find."

"Add it to the list," Archer said. "Give me a hand. We need to get this man out of here."

Together, they lifted the man up, amazed at how light he was. As the trio moved him toward the ladder, Archer noticed a glint of gold off the man's chest. A medallion hung around his neck. He made a mental note to look at it more closely later. Right now, they had to get him to Enterprise.

~*~*~

2001

"You say it called this 'The Warden'?" Giles asked. He turned it over in his hand as he leaned against the front counter of the Magic Box.

Buffy nodded, then realized Giles wasn't looking at her. She stood up from the small, round table and wandered over to him.

"Yes, the Warden," Buffy repeated. "Then he melted. We aren't forgetting the stinky melting?"

"Yes, of course," Giles said absently.

Buffy sighed. She sent a beseeching look back to the table where Willow and Xander shuffled through a stack of old books. They were already elbow deep in researching and just shrugged at her. At the front of the store, Anya was absorbed in helping a potential customer chose the right crystal necklace for her lover.

"And this other fellow just disappeared," Giles said in his familiar, faraway thinking voice.

"Yep," Buffy replied, tired of repeating herself. "Just poof, and he's gone. Well, not really poof. More like 'blink and you'll miss him' poof. But he looked official, like a priest or something."

"Do you have a sketch?" Willow asked, piping into the conversation.

"Of the priest guy?" Buffy asked blankly, turning to her friend.

"Of the demon," Willow said. "It would help with the whole research thing."

"Oh," Buffy said. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. She unfolded it and handed it over to Willow. It was a fairly decent sketch, but Buffy was no artist.

"Big scary guy," Xander said, looking at the drawing.

"Who melted," Buffy added.

"You're really stuck on the whole melting thing, aren't you?" Xander commented.

Buffy smiled ruefully. "Usually things just splatter to dust," she said. "Oozing into a smelly puddle is something nice and new."

The bell above the front door dinged as the lone customer left. Anya huffed loudly. The phone on the counter rang and she bolted to answer it.

Giles appeared by the research table, reaching for one of the books. He found a leather-bound tome and pulled it from the stack. Placing the Warden gently on the table, Giles flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

"The Warden," Giles read, his finger following the lines of ancient text. "Believed a myth in Medieval Europe, the Warden was the personal talisman of Arantaf. Arantaf was expelled from Prussia by its king in 1121. The talisman was believed a source of great power, but after Arantaf's death in 1149, it was never found." Giles scanned the rest of the entry. "There's nothing else."

"Geez," Buffy said. "These guys cryptic much?"

"They specialize in it," Xander said.

"So we look for anything else on Arantaf," Willow said.

"Precisely," Giles said. "The name sounds a bit familiar."

Anya wandered dejectedly over to the small group. "Tara called. Dawn got a surprise half-day, so she's picking her up."

"I used to love surprise half-days," Buffy said. "Made going to school more fun."

"Here, honey," Xander said, pushing a book over to Anya. "Help us read."

"About what?" Anya asked. She tried to read over Giles's shoulder as he walked away, still engrossed in his book.

"Arantaf and demons that turn into black ooze," Buffy said.

"And again with the ooze," Xander said.

~*~*~

2152

Captain Archer stood off to one side of Sick Bay, watching silently as Dr. Phlox went about examining the rescued boomer. The man's soiled clothes had been removed and sealed in protective pouches, and he had been dressed in a simple cloth gown. The flash of gold Archer had spotted earlier had turned out to be a medallion on a gold chain. Phlox had placed it on a nearby table for one of the ship's historians to look at. It was obviously old, and likely an Earth artifact of some sort.

The man was human, that much was certain. Beyond that, Phlox still had no answers.

<"Lt. Reed to Captain Archer.">

Archer walked over to the wall comm. "Go ahead."

<"Sir, we've checked the freighter from bow to stern. No sign of other crew members, although there are still personal items in the quarters. All the food in the galley that was left out is spoiled. Wherever they went, they didn't take anything with them.">

"How are you doing with power?"

<"Commander Tucker's still working on it, sir.">

"Keep me informed."

<"Of course, sir. Reed out.">

Archer cut off the link and almost leaned his forehead against the bulkhead. But that wouldn't look very professional. So he compromised with a soft sigh.

"Captain?" Phlox called.

Archer turned and walked over to the bed the crewman lay on. "What did you find?" he asked.

"Most unusual, Captain," Phlox said. He brought up several scans on the monitors above the bed. "He's human, but he's been exposed to some sort of radiation."

"Radiation?" Archer echoed. "On his ship?"

"Quite possibly," Phlox said. "It is almost impossible to trace and has actually dissipated a bit since I began my examination. It doesn't appear to be harmful, though."

"What about that wound?" Archer asked. He glanced down at the crewman's neck, then looked away. Phlox had attached his Osmotic Eel to help close the wounds.

"Most unusual," Phlox said. His voice was higher pitched than normal, almost excited about his discoveries. "They appear to be bite marks, however I found no saliva in or around the wound to support that theory. But this man was exsanguinated."

"His blood was drained?" Archer asked.

"Yes, Captain," Phlox said. "He was drained almost to the point of death. Yet there was no sign of the blood anywhere in that compartment."

Archer glanced across Sickbay where the dead man's body lay under a sheet, waiting for his final rest. "Could that man have done it?" he asked.

Phlox shook his head. "I don't see how he could have," he replied. "I would surmise the bite wound occurred at the same time the other man died. The odd thing is that the wounded man was in a state of malnutrition and dehydration, whereas the other man was not. He had eaten recently. Our bite victim did not have the strength to break another man's back in such a way."

"So basically, you just don't know," Archer surmised.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Phlox said. "I wish I had more answers for you."

"Keep digging," Archer said. He walked over to the medallion and picked it up. The gold felt almost warm to the touch. "Any idea what this is?"

"Not yet," Phlox replied. "I asked Ensign Harris to come up and examine it. He may have some insights on its origin."

Archer put the medallion back on the table. "I'm going up to the bridge," he said. "As soon as you get something—"

"Of course, Captain," Phlox said.

~*~*~

The Warden's engine room was an engineer's dream come true…and worst nightmare. Commander Tucker was in heaven and hell as he bounced around the cramped room, trying to figure out the power system on the ancient pre-warp ship. The chance to take apart such an old engine was exciting, as well as frustrating. Most of the components on the impulse engines were different than anything Trip or his team was used to working with.

One false move and something would probably explode.

Basic life support and gravity was running off of engine power. Trip's job was to reestablish normal power functions so they could access ship's logs and find out what the hell happened to the crew.

As he hunched over the main engineering station, Trip felt a cold chill creep up his spine. It started in the middle of his back, tingling upwards like an icy finger. Trip looked up, glancing around the room. Ensign Fox was working across the room on a relay board. Lieutenant Hess had her head under an impulse conduit.

Eerie as it was, Trip felt like he was being watched. The emergency lights they had set up around the engine room threw shadows against the walls and into corners. Plenty of places for someone to hide.

But who would be hiding? There was no one alive on board but Enterprise crew. Three engineers and five security officers searching for more clues to the mystery.

Still, the feeling didn't go away.

Trip tried to shrug it off. He put his mind back on the job and soon, had forgotten about the chill.

~*~*~

Archer sat slumped in the chair of his Ready Room, staring at the far wall. He was lost in thought and didn't hear the door chime the first time. After a second, more insistent knock, Archer straightened up.

"Enter."

The door slid open and T'Pol stepped inside. She had a PADD in one hand.

"I found the records you requested," T'Pol said. She handed him the PADD as she began reporting the facts to him. "The SS Warden, commissioned in the year 2043. Embarked on a deep space voyage in December of that year with a crew of nineteen people. Commanded by Captain William James. Last transmission to Earth was March 13, 2044."

Archer scanned the PADD. Every word T'Pol had said was on there, with no other information. "That's it?" he asked.

"Yes, Captain," T'Pol said.

"This ship has been out here for a hundred years," Archer said. "And no one has heard from it in all this time."

"Hundreds of ships departed Earth during this decade," T'Pol said. "Not all have updated records, Captain."

"That's true," Archer said. "Thanks, T'Pol."

T'Pol nodded, then left the ready room. Archer studied the PADD, curious to find one other piece of information. A photograph of Captain James. He was lean, with angular cheekbones and striking blue eyes. His dirty blonde hair was clipped short. But something else in the picture captured Archer's attention. It was barely noticeable, but still there. A gold chain hung around the Captain's neck. And the very top of a gold disk was attached to the chain, the rest obscured from view.

"Family heirloom?" Archer asked the empty room.

His only answer was silence. And questions without answers.

~*~*~

2001

Buffy arched her back, stretching tired muscles. Two hours of pouring over books was starting to drive her crazy. Research was better left to others. She was the Slayer, after all. She tracked. She fought. She didn't do books. She wondered if Giles would mind if she took a half-hour to punch around in the training room. Something to get her blood flowing.

"Arantaf!" Anya announced triumphantly.

She looked up from her book, turning it around for everyone to see. There was a pencil sketch of a robed man, with sharp, angular facial features. Buffy stared at the picture. All she could think was that the guy looked like Spike.

"Very good," Giles said, joining them at the table. "Arantaf was once a member of the royal court of Prussia. He was expelled from the country for consorting with a witch coven. Arantaf professed his innocence to deaf ears. In retaliation he found a warlock who forged an amulet of gold and precious stones. Arantaf was told the amulet could be used as he saw fit."

Giles paused to turn the page in the book, then kept reading to his captive audience. "Arantaf moved his family to England, still unsure of his revenge. In 1132, his wife and three daughters were killed by a mysterious plague ravaging the city of London."

"Vampires," Buffy said, pointing to a small sketch on the page. It showed someone's neck, with two tiny puncture wounds. "Hundreds of years ago, people blamed vampire deaths on plagues, especially when they happened in large numbers."

Buffy discovered everyone staring at her. "What?" she said defensively. "Sometimes I actually listen to the things Giles says, you know."

"Thank you, Buffy," Giles said. He looked back down at the page to finish the last paragraph of the entry. "Arantaf sent his son to live with friends out in Wiltshire to protect him. After Arantaf's death in 1149, the amulet, now called the Warden, was delivered to his son. It is supposed to have stayed within the family."

"Does it say what happens to the son?" Buffy asked.

"The entry stops there," Giles said.

"So now we know who this Arantaf guy is," Xander said. "But we still don't know what the Warden does. Or why Black Goo Guy wanted it."

"It has power," Buffy said. She reached for the amulet, careful to handle only the chain it was on. The stones flashed as it caught bits of light. "I felt it when I kicked Black Goo Guy. We just don't know what kind."

"Which means more research," Giles said.

Buffy bit back a groan.

"I'm still working on translating the writing," Willow said, typing something into her laptop.

Buffy stood up. "I'm going to exercise some," she announced. "Get some blood flowing to my head, help me think and all."

Before anyone could protest, Buffy bounced out the back door to the training room.

~*~*~

2152

Ensign Derek Harris turned the medallion over and over in his hands. It was magnificent craftsmanship, that much was certain. He was also certain it was several centuries old. He would almost hazard a guess of a millennia. He had taken over a small corner of Sickbay, around the corner from the main room where he had computer access and quiet. He scratched at the short brown hair at the base of his neck, a gesture reserved for moments of quiet frustration.

This was one of those moments.

Harris scanned a picture of the medallion and fed it into the computer. Hopefully the United States Archeology Database could come up with something for him. As he waited for the results of the search, he stared at the necklace.

The metal was warm to the touch, even after it hadn't been handled. The gemstone was constantly changing color, from red to sparkling purple, to a deep silver shade. It seemed to be alive and liquid beneath its shell, yet it never moved. And the writing was no language he was familiar with. He quickly typed the letters into the Universal Translator, hoping for a quick match. Ensign Sato had been asked to join him in the research. She should be there at any time.

Harris wasn't disappointed in the language angle. The computer beeped a match at him in less than thirty seconds. He brought up the screen.

POWER IN BLOOD, KNOWLEDGE IN POWER, WIELD BOTH

He stared at the translation, unsure what to make of it. It was a dialect of Medieval Prussian, one he wasn't familiar with. Harris swiveled in his chair, once again fixing his dark eyes on the medallion in his hand.

"Power in blood," he said softly. But what did that mean?

~*~*~

2001

Buffy let go a flying kick, landing easily on the exercise pad on the floor. She wiped a thin line of sweat off her forehead. While she knew she hadn't lost any speed or strength since her…resurrection, she knew her heart wasn't in it. Training had lost some of its punch, so to speak. She stared at the sandbag, wondering if it were worth a few rounds on it. Anything was better than the books.

Instead, she walked over to the small collection of weapons on the wall. She picked up a six-inch hilted blade, deciding a little target practice could be good. A tiny chill snaked across the short hairs on her neck. Immediately tense, Buffy whipped around with the blade. It hit flesh and the intruder yelped. She stepped back, glaring at him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Spike stared at the oozing cut on the palm of his left hand, then frowned at her. "Not much of a hello," he said.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You don't usually sneak around in the sunlight unless you want something," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "I figured why waste time and not skip right to it."

"I had to come," Spike said. He took a towel off a nearby rack and wrapped it around his bleeding hand.

"Gee, that's original," Buffy retorted. She dropped the dagger, spun around and began walking away.

A cold hand clapped over her shoulder, stopping her. Buffy angrily shrugged out of Spike's grip. As she turned again to yell at him, she stopped. There was a glint of desperation in his eyes that she'd never seen before. Not quite fear, but something akin to it.

"Have you ever felt compelled to do something?" Spike asked. His voice reflected the same emotion she saw in his eyes. "And just not know why? That there was something you had to know, had to see. No matter what."

Buffy studied him for a moment, searching for any hint of dishonesty. After the incident with the liquor and kitten poker, she'd grown more wary of the things he told her. But he seemed so genuine about this. If it did turn out to be another hoax, she could just kick his ass later.

"You felt compelled to come here?" she asked, trying to temper the sarcasm from her voice.

"Yeah," Spike said. He almost seemed embarrassed about it. "Listen, don't ask me to explain it. I can't and I bloody well wish I could."

Buffy continued to stare at him. Spike realized she wasn't going to offer up any information. She could almost see his brain switching tactics.

"Heard about a new player in town," Spike said casually. "Big guy, purple eyes. Melts when you injure it, then reforms a few hours later."

"Reforms?" Buffy echoed. She blinked at him. "You know what this demon is?"

"Dalzell Demon," Spike said. "Very rare and damn hard to kill. You think it's dead, but it's just regenerating."

"So that thing is still out there," Buffy said. "And it still wants the Warden."

"Warden?" Spike said. This time it was his turn to stare blankly at her. "Serious? I thought the damn thing was a myth. You've got the Warden?"

"You know what it does?" she asked, getting into his face.

Spike took a step back, still digesting the information. The apprehension was back again and Spike found himself unable to mask it now.

"Only what I've heard," he said quietly.

"And what is that?" Buffy pressed, hoping she wouldn't have to play one of his guessing games.

"I want to see it," Spike said, as if there was to be no discussion.

Buffy arched an eyebrow. "No?"

"If you do have the Warden," Spike growled, his voice deadly low, "You'll need to know what I know about it. And it's nothing you're gonna find in a bloody book, that's for sure."

Buffy sighed. The others weren't going to like this.

~*~*~

2152

One of the small cages nearby rattled, startling Ensign Harris. He looked up from the computer, but the cage didn't move again. Some of the things Phlox kept around Sickbay scared him.

"How's it coming, Derek?" Hoshi Sato asked as she breezed into the alcove.

"I have the language translated, but I'd like your opinion," Derek reported. "Still no idea where or when the medallion is from."

Hoshi bent over the small table, reading the translation on the computer screen. "That's creepy," she said. "And pretty cryptic."

"I noticed," he replied dryly.

"Any progress, Ensigns?" Phlox asked cheerfully as he entered the small alcove. He had a vial of blood in one hand and small bottle in another.

"Sort of," Derek said.

"Could you hold this for me?" Phlox asked, holding the vial of blood toward Hoshi. "I need to feed the Tergellian Lizard, before I analyze this sample of our mystery guest's blood."

Hoshi gingerly held the vial between two fingers. She generally tried to hide her squeamish side, but had never been fond of handling blood. Derek watched her, chuckling softly.

Phlox opened his bottle and added food to one of the cages. Derek turned back to the monitor, watching as dozens of pages of historical facts flashed by, searching for a match. He became engrossed in the information.

A sharp squawk from a cage made Hoshi jump. Her fingers twitched and she dropped the vial of blood.

~*~*~

2001

"I think I translated it," Willow said. As she looked up from her computer, the back door of the shop opened. Her triumphant smile faded when Buffy and Spike entered the shop.

Giles, Xander and Anya followed her gaze. Spike didn't seem to notice their un-welcoming glares. His eyes were fixed on the table.

"Spike may know something about the Warden," Buffy explained before anyone could ask.

"We haven't found any additional information," Giles told her. "I suppose, if he knows something…"

Spike walked over to the table and very gently picked up the medallion by its chain. He held it up so the Warden was eye level with him. Everyone watched him, as if afraid he'd run away with it. But Spike had no interest in running. All of his attention was on the gold disk in front of him.

Very slowly, Spike lowered the amulet toward his bandaged hand.

~*~*~

2152

The vial of blood hit the desk and shattered. Crimson drops splattered all over the surface, coating the nearby PADD. Several flecks landed on the gold medallion and the front of Hoshi's uniform.

"Oh!" Hoshi cried out. "I'm so sorry, Doctor."

"It's all right," Phlox said. "It can be cleaned after all."

Hoshi nodded, glancing over at Derek. He smiled sympathetically and picked up the medallion to wipe it off. Derek froze in place, staring at his hand. Hoshi looked at the medallion, and her eyebrows shot up. The stone in the center was swirling in a rainbow of colors. Hoshi was aware of a rush of sound, like crashing waves at the ocean shore. She looked up at Phlox and Derek in time to see the room disappear in a flash of too-white light.

~*~*~

2001

"Do you know what it does?" Giles asked impatiently.

Spike didn't speak. Instead, he gently placed the amulet on the palm of his hand. Buffy cringed when the gold touched the bloody bandage and she was about to admonish him. But her eyes were drawn toward the stone in the center of the amulet. It swirled furiously in a bright melody of color.

"What the—?" Buffy said.

Then the Magic Box disappeared in a flash of ultra-white light and a rush of roaring sound.

~*~*~

"Do you think they'll be mad we didn't get them anything?" Dawn asked. She sipped her frozen mocha as she walked, stirring the whipped cream deeper into the chocolate drink.

Tara smiled, blowing through the lid to cool her latte. "I think they'll get over it," she teased. "Actually, I think they're researching, so they'd probably have loved the caffeine."

"Researching what?"

"A medallion, I think." Tara sipped her drink, wrinkling her nose when the hot liquid scorched her tongue.

They turned the corner and the Magic Box came into view. Dawn offered Tara her mocha.

"Cool your tongue?" Dawn asked.

Tara nodded. As she reached for the drink, a glaring flash of white light erupted from the windows of the Magic Box. It was abruptly gone. The girls froze mid-step.

Flash. Magic. Willow.

Those three words played over in Tara's mind as her feet moved forward on their own. She felt, rather than saw, Dawn behind her as they raced across the street. They burst through the door of the Magic Box. Everything appeared as it should be, except for the people there.

Instead of their friends, two men and a woman stood in the center of the store. Tara had a vague thought that one of the men looked like Xander, only older. Then she got a good look at the second man. She didn't see their uniforms or their bewilderment. All she saw was the portly man in a tunic, the ridges on his face, the discolored skin. A demon?

Tara's first instinct was to protect Dawn. She reached toward a shelf and grabbed the first weapon she saw. It was a long-hilted, short-bladed decorative dagger. Tiny, but Tara brandished it like a broad sword at the intruders.

"Who are you?" she demanded, impressed that her voice sounded more commanding than the fear in her heart let her feel.

"Perhaps a more fitting question," said the demon-thing, its voice analytical and friendly, "Is where are we?"

~*~*~

2152

"Captain," T'Pol said from her station. "I am reading an energy fluctuation in Sick Bay."

"Fluctuation?" Archer repeated, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "It only registered for .45 seconds, but the energy levels were quite high."

Archer tapped the comm panel on his chair. "Bridge to Dr. Phlox." No reply. "Archer to Sickbay." He looked over at Ensign Broward, manning Hoshi's station.

Broward shook her head. "Sick Bay's comm doesn't seem to be functioning, Captain," she reported.

"I'm going down there," Archer said. Off of T'Pol's eyebrow, he added, "I'm sure it's just a power shortage, but I'd like to be on the safe side. You have the bridge, Sub-Commander."

T'Pol nodded.

Archer stood up and walked to the turbolift. As he rode down to Sickbay, he let his thoughts drift to the Warden and its missing crew. He knew Trip was making progress with the repairs, but he couldn't help feeling anxious. Something very strange had happened on that ship. Archer desperately wanted to know what.

The lift opened and Archer stepped out. He walked towards Sickbay a half-step quicker than normal, trying desperately not to run.

~*~*~

The white flash lasted only a split second, but it disoriented Buffy. Purple spots danced in her vision after the flash disappeared, leaving her unable to completely take in her surroundings. All she was sure of was that she was no longer in the Magic Box. This new room was too bright. And too crowded.

There were soft thumps and groans all around her. Buffy felt clothing, a hand, a…

"Watch what you've got, love," Spike said.

Buffy pulled away, her vision beginning to clear. Spike, Giles, Anya, Willow, Xander; all present and accounted for. And all as disoriented as she was. Buffy gazed around, realizing they were in the far corner of a much larger room. An alcove of some sort. The walls were a gray-ish white, very sterile looking. Soft hums and whirs came from the outer room. And there was the odd sense of motion all around her.

"Buffy?" Giles asked.

"Yeah?" she replied, looking over at her Watcher. Giles blinked owlishly at her, then stared around the tiny alcove.

Anya reached over and pinched Xander, eliciting a yelp from him.

"Just checking," Anya said.

"Where are we?" Willow asked, as wide-eyed as the rest of them.

"Stay here," Buffy said. When Spike made a move to follow her, she pinned him with a dark stare. "Stay."

Buffy walked to the end of the alcove and peered into the larger room. It had a curved ceiling, and a row of beds along one wall. Two appeared occupied. One man slept peacefully. The other was covered with a sterile sheet and probably dead. Monitors of some sort hung above each bed. There were shelves filled with vials and containers that she didn't recognize. A set of glass double doors led out into a corridor of some kind. It appeared to be some sort of high-tech hospital.

She stepped out into the room, once again getting that sensation of floating. It was almost like being on an airplane, but much more subtle.

"Hey, guys," Willow said. "Look."

Buffy turned and walked back to the alcove. Willow was bent over a small table that was splattered with blood. She gazed at a computer monitor scrolling information. Willow watched the words go by.

"Neat," Willow said. "Looks like some sort of data library. It might be searching for something, but I'm not sure."

"So anybody got a theory here?" Xander asked, gazing around at his friends. "Because I for one think this is pretty darn strange."

"Not very good decorators, are they?" Anya commented. "Drab walls, no windows."

"Could be a good thing," Spike mumbled.

A soft swishing sound pre-empted a man's voice calling, "Dr. Phlox?"

Buffy pivoted on her heel and found herself face-to-face with a tall man in a blue jumpsuit. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw her. Buffy took a step backward, moving into an automatic protective stance in front of her friends. She felt Spike move to her side.

"Who are you?" Buffy asked.

"You're on my ship," the stranger said. "I should be asking who you are."

~*~*~

"Ship?" the blonde girl echoed, glancing backward at a gentleman with spectacles. "Are we out to sea?"

Archer blinked at her. Beyond his initial shock at finding six strangers in Sick Bay instead of three officers, he was concerned over their apparent disorientation. Out to sea?

"No," he said slowly. "You're on my starship, Enterprise. I'd like to know how you got here, and I'd also like to know where my people are. Did you transport over from the other ship?"

The sextet seemed stuck on something he'd said, oblivious to his questions.

"Did you just say starship?" asked a youngish man with dark hair. He looked familiar, but Archer couldn't place him. "As in a ship that flies through the stars?"

Archer felt a queer sensation of displacement. Who were these people?

"My name is Captain Jonathan Archer," he said in his best command voice. "You are in the Sickbay of my ship and I want to know how you got here."

"I think we'd all like to know that," said the older fellow, in a British accent very similar to Malcolm's.

Archer couldn't decide if the group was dangerous or not. He didn't particularly trust the way the tall blonde man was staring at him, like Archer was a hot meal or something. He also noticed the red-haired girl staring intently at a computer console.

"It was probably a spell," the last member to speak said, a young girl with wavy hair. She had a very matter-of-fact mannerism about her. "A dislocation spell or someone trying out their new transportation amulet or something."

"The Warden," the British man said. "Who has it? Spike?"

Warden? Had they come from the boomer ship? Archer was about to mention that the Warden was attached to their hull, when the tall blonde man took the gold medallion from his pocket and handed it over to the Brit.

"Hey," Archer said. "Where'd you get that?"

The blonde girl cocked her head at him. "Why?"

<"T'Pol to Captain Archer.">

Archer wasn't sure if he was glad for the interruption or not. He certainly felt out of his element. Meeting new species was his job, but these appeared to be a group of very disoriented humans with no explanation as to their presence on his ship. Archer stepped over to a comm panel, watching the strangers as closely as they watched him.

"Go ahead," he said.

<"Is everything all right, sir?">

"Uh, everything's fine," Archer replied. "Would you mind coming down to Sickbay for a minute? And have a security team start looking for Dr. Phlox and Ensigns Sato and Harris. I have a funny feeling."

<"Of course, Captain.">

Archer watched curiously as the British man engaged in a hushed conversation with the blonde girl. There was an odd power struggle between the two as they spoke, with the man finally giving in to the girl. She turned to face Archer, blasting him with a winning smile.

"Hi," she said. "I think we got off to a bad start. Believe me when I say we aren't strangers to strange things. I'm Buffy Summers." She quickly introduced her companions, taking a second to snatch the gold medallion from Rupert Giles as she said his name. "And I think this is partly responsible for us being here," she added.

~*~*~

2001

Hoshi felt an uneasy feeling of displacement, even as her vision began to clear again. She heard Phlox say something, but wasn't sure what. The sudden burst of noise had left her sensitive ears ringing. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Derek watching her, concerned.

Derek snapped his fingers in front of her and Hoshi finally snapped out of it. The ringing subsided long enough for her to hear him ask, "You okay now?"

She nodded, even as another bell rang. But this wasn't in her head. Both looked up as two girls appeared in front of them. It was only then that Hoshi took in their surroundings. Sickbay was gone. They appeared to be in some sort of antiquities shop, by the appearance of things. Had they transported down to a planet?

The elder of the two girls brandished a tiny dagger at them, and Hoshi got the feeling they were as shocked to see them as the Starfleet officers were to be there.

"Who are you?" the elder girl demanded.

Hoshi heard a shuffling sound, and she realized Phlox was standing just behind her.

"Perhaps a more fitting question," Phlox said, completely nonplussed, "Is where are we?"

"The Magic Box," the younger girl replied.

Both girls seemed fixated on Phlox. Hoshi wondered if they'd never seen a Denobulan before. Probably not. Few people had.

"Is this a store?" Hoshi asked as she began to regain her bearings.

"Yes," the elder girl said. "In Sunnydale. You're not from here?"

"Sunnydale?" Derek echoed. "Is that a planet or the name of this settlement?"

The girls looked at each other, sharing a silent conversation that Hoshi couldn't read. They seemed to come to some sort of decision.

"You do know you guys are on Earth, right?" the younger girl asked.

Hoshi stared at them. "Earth?" she repeated. "How did we get back to Earth?" She looked at Phlox and Derek. "Am I missing something?"

"It is possible," Phlox said analytically, "That the bright flash of light was, indeed, some sort of transportation device. If such is the case, we can simply contact Starfleet Command and apprise them of our current situation."

"Do you guys have a communication system?" Hoshi asked.

"Uh," the younger girl said. "We have a telephone."

"Telephone?" Phlox echoed.

"A really old form of communication," Hoshi explained. "Listen, I've never actually used one of those. I didn't think anyone still did. Think you could show me how?"

The two girls simply stared.

"Hoshi?" Derek asked.

She turned and found Derek staring at the far wall. He crossed the room toward a counter, oblivious of the two girls watching him. Derek pointed to something on the wall.

"This is an old paper calendar," Derek said.

"And?" Hoshi said, walking over to him. She was aware of Phlox behind her. As Hoshi stared at the square of paper on the wall, she felt the blood drain from her face.

The month on the calendar was November, 2001.

~*~*~

2152

Trip slipped the last relay replacement into place and crossed his fingers. He flipped a switch. The engine room boards lit up across the room. Not a spark flew. After doing a quick double check of the power circuits, Trip grinned at Ensign Fox.

"I think we got it," Trip said.

Fox nodded, walking over to monitor the impulse readings. "Engines are online, Commander," he said. "Power has been restored to the rest of the ship."

Trip took out his communicator. "Tucker to Enterprise."

<"Go ahead."> It was Travis. Trip wondered where the Captain was.

"We have power back on in the Warden," Trip said. "I'm gonna download the captain's logs to Enterprise so y'all can see what happened over here. I'll let y'all know if I find anything else useful."

<"I'll relay the message, Commander.">

"Tucker out."

"Did you hear that?" Fox asked.

Trip turned around. Fox stood in the middle of the engine room, his head cocked to one side. Listening. Trip listened for a moment, but all he heard was the thrum of the engines, and faraway footsteps.

"What did it sound like?" Trip asked.

"I'm not sure, sir," Fox replied. He shrugged. "Probably just my imagination."

Trip remembered the eerie feelings of being watched that had plagued him earlier. It might just be their imaginations running wild on a ship full of ghosts. Or maybe…

"Yeah," Trip agreed, shaking it off. "Just your imagination."

~*~*~

"You know what that is?" Archer asked, pointing to the medallion in Buffy's hand.

Buffy watched the older man carefully. She wasn't sure if she trusted him or not. While the room they were in was futuristic, she refused to believe they were in space. There weren't space ships. Not in this day and age.

"It's called a Warden," Giles said. "Supposedly very powerful."

"Powerful in what way?" Archer asked.

"We aren't sure, actually," Giles replied. "Although it's magically inclined, of that much I have no doubt."

"Magic?" Archer echoed.

Buffy felt restless and way too unnerved to keep playing Twenty Questions with this guy. She was ready to ask a few of her own.

"If this is a sick place," Buffy said, forgetting exactly what he had called it earlier, "then where's your Doctor?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Archer said. "He was here, along with my communications officer and an archeology specialist."

"Uh huh," Buffy said. "So what happened then? We appeared and they disappeared?"

"It's very possible," Giles said. "After all, we don't know the extent of the Warden's power, do we? It could very well have transported us to this place." A thought seemed to cross the Watcher's mind. "Incidentally, Captain, what day is it?"

"January tenth," Archer replied.

Buffy blinked. Had they jumped three months into the future? Then Archer's next statement sent her mind reeling into unreality.

"2152," he finished.

None of the Scoobies spoke. An unsettling fear had stolen their voices. All except Spike, who managed to croak out, "Bloody hell."

The door swished open and a woman walked in, startling the others. Buffy stared at her, less at the skin-tight leotard than at her ears. Human ears didn't go up in points like that. Buffy automatically looked at Giles, who seemed preoccupied with the woman's choice of attire. Spike and Xander also gazed at the woman with open interest.

Buffy reached for a stake she didn't have, stopping only when Archer spoke.

"Sub-Commander T'Pol," Archer said to the group. "She's my first officer."

"Is she a demon?" Anya asked.

T'Pol raised one eyebrow, regarding the newcomers as one would a tiresome child. "Captain?" she asked.

"We aren't sure how they got here?" Archer said. "They aren't crew members from the Warden, but I don't exactly think they're from…here."

"You said the year is 2152?" Willow asked. "Wow. Five minutes ago it was only 2001."

"Are you saying that amulet made us time travel a hundred and fifty years?" Xander asked. "Because that's never happened before."

"Where exactly are they from?" T'Pol asked Archer.

"Sunnydale, California," Buffy said defensively. Something about that woman just rubbed her wrong. "How about you?"

"I am from Vulcan," T'Pol replied.

"I beg your pardon," Giles said, taking a step forward. "But a moment ago, Captain, you said we aren't crew members from the Warden. To what were you referring when you said Warden?"

"We encountered a ship floating in space," Archer said. "We sent a shuttle to offer the crew assistance and it was registered as the SS Warden."

"How odd," Giles muttered.

"Tell me what about this isn't odd," Xander said.

Archer looked from T'Pol to the group. "Would you excuse us for a minute?" he asked. Without waiting for a reply, Archer led T'Pol to a spot in the far corner of the Sick Bay.

Buffy glanced around her group of friends. Anya hung onto Xander's arm as if she might fall over. Buffy admitted she felt a bit seasick. If they really were in space—and she still didn't want to buy that theory just yet—it could be motion sickness. Spike didn't let his gaze fall from T'Pol, even as she spoke quietly to Archer. Giles stared at a spot on the wall, the internal wheels of his mind spinning.

She spotted Willow hunched over the computer monitor they'd seen earlier. Her lips moved softly as she read.

"Will?" Buffy called. She walked over to her friend. "Willow?"

Willow looked up, her eyes huge. "You will not believe what I just read," she said.

~*~*~

Reed heard the thrum of power an instant before the Warden's corridors were bathed in light. He switched off his torch, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. With the lights on, the corridor seemed much smaller. He was on B-Deck, one level above the Engine Room, still searching for clues about the empty ship.

"It's about bloody time," he muttered.

Clink, clank.

Reed spun around, automatically pointing his torch toward the sound. He silently admonished himself and lowered the torch. The corridor was empty, but he was positive someone had dropped something. And dropped it very nearby. The other two members of his security team should be on the decks below.

"Hello?" he called. "Ensign Fox? Commander Tucker?"

No reply. Reed frowned and began walking slowly down the corridor. It stretched for another twenty meters toward the aft of the ship. All of the doors on either side were closed. He glanced down at the metal grilling beneath his feet, but saw nothing. Only conduits and wires. And yet he couldn't shake that uneasy feeling that clenched his stomach.

He reached the end of the corridor. A vaulted door led further back to storage rooms that had already been searched. As Reed turned back around, he heard that clack-click sound once again. He froze, not breathing. All he heard was an echoing silence and the thrum of power in the wall conduits.

"No need to scare yourself silly," Reed mumbled. But the empty ship did creep him out. More than he wanted to admit.

Reed slowly walked back up the corridor. He passed a door and stopped cold. It was open just an inch, but he was sure it hadn't been open before. He pressed the button next to the door and it slid open the entire way. Reed fumbled his hand along the wall for a light switch of some sort, but couldn't find one. He turned on his torch and stepped inside.

It was someone's quarters. A small, but comfortable living space. There was a light coating of dust on the furniture and the air smelled a bit stale. Like nothing alive had breathed it for many days. Reed shone the light around the room, lighting up the corners where shadows lurked.

Clack. Click.

He started, whipping the torch beam to the left. A shadow seemed to move. Reed swallowed and took a step backward, only to find his path blocked by something. Something soft.

Reed spun around, shining the light into the face of a humanoid. Its yellow eyes gleamed from under a sunken, primal brow. Long teeth fell down over its lips, pulled taunt in a menacing grin. It growled, deep in its chest. A cold chill of fear crept down Reed's spine, his hand only inches from his phase pistol.

It was a stand-off. The alien watched him closely, as if observing its prey and knowing it was already caught. Reed felt his fingers twitch, wanting to grab for the pistol, but not sure of the creature's reflexes. Could he pull it and fire before the thing was upon him?

There was no time to test it. An icy hand clamped around Reed's throat from behind, yanking his neck to the left. He screamed as teeth sunk into the exposed flesh of his throat.

~*~*~

Trip glanced over at the bridge's main computer console. The logs were almost finished uploading to Enterprise. While they probably only needed the logs of the last few weeks, there was no telling how long this ancient power system would hold up. Better to get it all now than need something later.

"Sir," Fox said. "There's an unusual sensor reading up on B Deck."

Trip walked over to the sensor console, reading it over Fox's shoulder. "May be a short in one of the relays," he said. "I'll go check it out. Call Enterprise once the logs are finished."

"Aye, sir," Fox replied.

Trip walked to the door on the port side of the bridge. It was an old-fashioned sort of turbolift, but did the same job. He got on and hit B. It jerked downward, moved smoothly for several seconds, then jerked to a stop. There was definitely something to be said for the lifts on Enterprise.

He stepped out onto B Deck and stared down the corridor. He thought Malcolm was supposed to be on this deck, but the Brit was nowhere to be seen.

Clack. Click.

Trip caught sight of a flash of light that appeared to come from one of the rooms down the hall. He walked toward it. A terrified scream chilled his blood and, for an instant, he stopped walking. The beam of light clattered to the ground, shining out into the corridor. Then Trip took off running down the corridor toward the light.

He skidded to a stop in front of an open doorway. In the light cast by the corridor, Trip could see three figures. One's back was to him, and it blocked the doorway. Beyond it, Trip saw Malcolm Reed staring blindly ahead with the third figure holding him by the neck.

Malcolm's eyes were glazed, but he seemed to see Trip. And the depth of pain and terror in his eyes pulled up a deep well of anger in Trip. He surged forward, knocking the first stranger forward. Trip landed hard and rolled away, even as the creature turned. It's contorted face and yellow eyes glared at him, then the creature was up and gone. It had moved too fast for Trip to track its movement.

The other creature, sensing the departure of its companion, released Malcolm and fled. Trip watched this one disappear into a smaller room, through a door he hadn't seen before. He looked over at Malcolm, who listed in the center of the room, as if swayed by a breeze.

Malcolm looked down at Trip with unfocused eyes. "Oh dear," he muttered.

His eyes rolled up into his head and Malcolm passed out. Trip reached out, barely able to cushion the other man's fall. It was then that Trip saw the wound on Malcolm's neck. Two small puncture wounds covered in blood, just above a pulsing artery.

"Jesus," Trip muttered.

He hooked his arms under Malcolm's armpits and dragged him from the room. He didn't know if those things were going to come back for seconds, but he had no intention of being there if they did. Once they were back in the corridor, Trip closed the door and shorted out the closing mechanism, effectively locking it shut. He pulled his communicator out even as he felt for Malcolm's pulse. He found it thready and weak.

"Tucker to Sickbay," Trip almost shouted. "Medical emergency on the Warden. We need Dr. Phlox right now!"

~*~*~

When Archer pulled T'Pol away from the others, he wasn't quite sure what he was going to say to her. This situation was a bit beyond him. He felt about as useful as when Silik tried to tell him about the Temporal Cold War. Could they be part of this?

"I did a bio-scan of the ship before I left the bridge," T'Pol said softly. "I found eighty-six human biosigns, including the injured crewman, and no Denobulan signs."

Archer did the math in his head, but something didn't fit. "Which means Phlox was transported off somehow," he said, thinking out loud more for his own benefit than T'Pol's. "If Hoshi and Ensign Harris went with him, that would leave eighty humans. Plus the injured man, makes eighty-one. But with our six guests, that doesn't make sense."

"Precisely," T'Pol said. "But the scan detected no other alien bio-signs on board."

"So we could be missing another crew member," Archer said. He glanced over at the strangers, wondering what exactly to do with them. He couldn't keep them cooped up in Sickbay. And he had no reason to place them in the Brig. Then he noticed Buffy and Willow looking at the computer. That might not be such a good idea.

He heard Willow say, "You will not believe what I just read," to Buffy moments before the quiet was broken by the comm system.

<"Tucker to Sickbay! Medical emergency on the Warden. We need Dr. Phlox right now!">

Archer looked at T'Pol. They hadn't missed the urgency or the fear in his voice. The six strangers were also paying attention now. Archer touched the comm panel nearby.

"Trip, what's going on?" Archer demanded.

<"Captain? Somethin' attacked Malcolm over here. Looks like what happened to that boomer y'all found. We need the Doc and another Security team.">

Archer swallowed. "Trip, get Malcolm to Sickbay right now. Phlox is…uh, not available. We'll do the best we can, just get him back here."

<"I see Crewman Malloy, sir. We'll be right there. Out.">

Archer turned on T'Pol. "I thought there were no life signs on that ship other than our people," he said.

T'Pol did not flinch under his heavy gaze. "None of our scans showed life signs of any sort on board the Warden, Captain. Nor did the deck checks of Lt. Reed's team uncover any signs of life on board."

"I want our people off that ship," Archer said. "Seal it off until we know what the hell attacked Reed."

"Aye, sir," T'Pol said. She spared one more glance at the strangers and strode out of Sickbay.

Archer watched her go with a queer sense of doom. Something was very wrong here. He hit the comm panel again. "Medical team to Sickbay. Medical emergency."

"Captain?" Mr. Giles asked.

Archer turned, aware that the group, minus Willow, had stepped forward and was watching him carefully. He spotted Willow still at the computer, but had larger issues than the information she'd probably be unable to access.

Mr. Giles held up a blood-splattered PADD. "I believe I have a theory about our appearance here," he said.

"If it's a quick theory," Archer said.

"We discovered an amulet called the Warden, this amulet," Giles said, holding up Buffy's hand that held the necklace. "And apparently, so did you. The information is there on this"—he indicated the PADD—"thing. It is very possible that these two amulets are the cause of our…transportation. They were somehow activated, switching us for your crew members."

Archer took the PADD from Giles. Sure enough, it held Ensign Harris's data on the medallion they'd found with the mystery victim. So if they had really time traveled….

"If you're really from the past," Archer said, "You must know about the Eugenics Wars. They'd have just ended not long ago."

He found five faces staring at him blankly. That kick-started his suspicion again. How could they be from that time period of the past and not know about the Wars?

"Perhaps," Mr. Giles said, "We are not from your past."

"Come again?" Archer said.

Mr. Giles pushed his spectacles further up his nose. "I assume, Captain, that you have not had any experience in alternate realities or dimensional travel?"

Archer blinked at the other man, his mind spinning. Had the Brit gone crazy?

"No, we haven't really," Archer said, trying to keep sarcasm out of his tone. "Have you?"

"You could say that," Mr. Giles replied.

"Hell, yes, we have," Anya said bluntly. "I mean, is everyone forgetting Glory ripping a hole in the fabric of reality last spring? Dragons and demons and icky flying things trying to destroy the world?"

"Anya," Xander said sharply.

Anya glared at Xander. "What?"

Archer again debated the merits of getting a security team to watch these six. Being open to new cultures was one thing. But these people were talking about time travel and alternate dimensions and demons. Had they collectively lost their collective mind?

"Captain Archer?"

Archer spun around at the new voice. Ensign Jenna Gibson stood in the doorway to Sick Bay, watching him curiously. She was one of the ship's exo-biologists and part of Phlox's emergency medical team. He believed her specialty was anatomy and physiology. She looked from him to the strangers and back again.

"Yes," Archer said. "We have an emergency coming in."

"Crewman Yen is on his way, too," Gibson said. "Where's Dr. Phlox?"

"Not here," Archer said. "Trip said Lt. Reed has been wounded like this man here." He led her to the bio-bed where the Warden's sole surviving crewman slept soundly.

Gibson studied the charts above the man's bed. Archer was aware that Buffy had moved in closer. Gibson examined the neck where the wound had been, but no longer was thanks to Phlox's eels.

"Extreme blood loss through the neck?" Gibson said, turning to stare at Archer.

Archer nodded.

"Could you repeat that, please?" Buffy said. "Blood loss and neck?"

"Yes," Archer said. Her sudden expression of shock surprised him. "We found him alone on the other ship, wounded in the neck and in shock from severe blood loss."

"Two little punctures?" Buffy asked, as if pleading for him to say something different. To not confirm a fear.

"Yes," Archer said, watching her closely.

"Giles!" Buffy cried in dismay. "I can't believe this. We've been here maybe fifteen minutes and they're already here! Do I have a cosmic kick-me sign on my back that tells them to follow me everywhere?"

Xander turned and glared at Spike.

"Hey!" Spike protested. "I was here the whole bloody time."

"Now slow down, Buffy," Giles said, walking over to the bed and looking down at the sleeping man. "They couldn't be our fault. I'm sure if we are from divergent timelines, then they must have existed in here at one time. Hence the Warden's presence here."

"Wait a minute!" Archer cried, holding up in his in protest. "Who are they? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Vampires," Anya said.

"Excuse me?" Archer said. He must have misheard her.

"You know," Anya went on. "Blood sucking demons and grrrr."

"Vampires don't exist," Archer insisted. He felt a knot twist into his stomach as the five exchanged looks of…what? Knowledge? "They're myths, stories."

"Captain?" Gibson asked. "Who are they?"

"Sure vampires are real," Anya said. "Spike is. Go ahead and show him."

Xander slipped his arm over Anya's shoulders and clamped a hand over her mouth. She looked up at him, annoyed.

Spike laughed nervously. "The girl's fruity," he said. "Loony as a bird."

The doors to Sickbay burst open with a sudden kick. Tucker and Ensign Malloy rushed in, carrying Malcolm Reed between them.

~*~*~

Buffy wanted to reach out and slap Anya for being so blunt. Yes, everyone was thinking about vampires. Everyone from Sunnydale, at least. But Archer probably already thought they were bonkers. This little confession wasn't going to help their case. But Buffy was still stuck on something. The amulet in her hand was called the Warden. The ship this man was from had been called the Warden. And the Warden had a Warden on board. A coincidence? Not hardly.

Before Buffy could say something to get Spike off the hook, two more people in uniform rushed in the Sick Bay. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the wound on the unconscious man's neck. Definitely a vampire, she'd recognize that sort of injury in her sleep.

She stepped away as Reed was lifted on a bed. Gibson began her examination using instruments out of a science fiction movie.

"It was the damnedest thing," the blonde man whose voice she recognized from the loudspeaker as Tucker's.

"What happened, Trip?" Archer asked.

"I heard him shout," Tucker explained. His voice quivered, likely from the shock of what he'd just witnessed. "I ran down to one of the crew's quarters. There were two of 'em, I don't know what. Had yellow eyes and bumpy foreheads. Not like a Klingon, but…I don't know what like. They were damned scary lookin', though. One of 'em had Malcolm by the throat. I knocked the other down and both took off, faster'n I'd ever seen anything move."

Definitely vampires, Buffy decided. She glanced over at Giles and his expression confirmed her thoughts. There were vampires on that other ship. Although part of her still resisted the idea that they were on a space ship of some kind, the insistent sensation of movement plagued her. Then a funny thought struck her. Were there Slayers in 2152?

"Who are they?" Tucker asked.

Buffy looked up, aware that Tucker was staring at her with open interest. Not the suspicion shown by Archer, more the weary acceptance of someone who knows that problems tended to compound once the first one was discovered.

"We're still working on that," Archer replied.

<"T'Pol to Archer.">

Archer sighed and walked to the comm panel. "Go ahead."

<"Access to the Warden has been sealed off, all personnel are on board Enterprise.">

"Good. Tell Travis to hold our position, then I want you to come back to Sickbay."

<"Aye, sir.">

Buffy sidled over to Giles and whispered, "I need to get onto that other ship. If they really are vampires, we'll need to know about it."

"Agreed," Giles said. "However, I don't believe our hosts are very open to that idea at this moment."

"I don't care," Buffy said. "We're here, aren't we? I might as well do a little space patrolling. I doubt any of these people would know what to do with a vampire if they actually cornered one."

"It was a vamp, all right," Spike said, startling them both. He jerked his head toward Reed. "Smells like death's touched him."

Buffy turned around, about to say something to Archer when Tucker beat her to it.

"You think the thing that attacked Malcolm and this other guy," Tucker said to Archer, "Is what killed the second guy you found?"

Second guy? Buffy's eyes flitted across the room to the sheeted figure. As she stared, she caught a bit of blue fabric falling off the table, just visible beneath the sheet. A funny idea entered her mind.

"Could be," Archer said. "Only he wasn't killed the same way."

"Was his back broken?" Buffy asked, not aware she'd actually meant to speak until the words were out. "Old guy wearing a blue robe?"

Archer looked at her sharply. "How did you know that?"

One puzzle piece fell into place. "The disappearing priest guy," she said. Buffy looked from Archer to Giles, amazed at this new discovery. "Remember the priest I saw the demon kill? The one who had the Warden we found? He disappeared. Could he have come back here? To his dimension?"

"It's possible," Giles said.

Buffy marched over to the corpse and lifted the sheet before anyone could protest. Sure enough, the face she remembered seeing—moments before he vanished—stared up at her. His features fixed in death.

"It's him," Buffy said. "Giles, I need to get on that ship."

"You gotta be kiddin' me," Tucker said. "You have no idea—"

"You have no idea what you're dealing with," Buffy interrupted harshly. "Spike?"

"What?" Spike asked, walking over to her.

"Show them," she said.

Spike stared at her. "What?"

"They won't believe me unless we have proof," Buffy said. "Show them."

Archer and Tucker looked at each other. Malloy and Gibson were also paying attention by this point.

"Balls," Spike muttered.

His features shifted effortlessly, smooth forehead giving way to a furrowed brow. His fangs appeared and his eyes glowed a soft yellow.

Tucker took a step backward, shock and fear apparent. The others stood rooted in place, starting at the apparition in front of them. Spike watched them with amusement.

"What the hell is that?" Tucker asked. "It looks like what attacked Malcolm."

Archer stared at Spike with open disbelief, his jaw slack. He blinked, as if hoping it would disappear, go back to the way it was. He swallowed, glancing at Buffy. She returned his gaze, arms crossed against her chest. Daring him to deny what he saw.

"I think it's a vampire," Archer said.

~*~*~

2001

It certainly wasn't something Hoshi ever thought she'd be doing in her lifetime. Sitting at a table with two girls—named Tara and Dawn, she'd discovered—talking about time travel. And magic. At least, Tara did most of the magic talk. Next to her, Derek was engrossed in an ancient leather book. Phlox sat on her other side, watching their hosts with obvious interest.

The same interest they were giving him. After first insisting that Phlox was not a demon, they had managed to make some headway with the girls. There was a hesitant trust between then all now, sown by a mutual need of answers. The research left on the table was all about the medallion that Derek still had, called the Warden. There was also a drawing of a scary looking alien, but what Tara kept insisting was a demon.

But demons didn't exist. Right?

Try telling Tara that. She kept insisting that a girl named Willow had probably caused a transportation spell of some sort. Trading places. But she had no explanation for Hoshi's insistence that the year was 2152. Not 2001.

"We need to learn more about this amulet," Tara repeated. "I'm sure it's the key to why you three are here."

"There isn't much in your books," Derek said. He had already read aloud about Arantaf and the Warden, but appeared to be finding the manual research cumbersome. Probably wishing for the Enterprise's computer database.

"My friend Xander's last name is Harris, too," Dawn said randomly. She smiled, bobbing her head as if to assure herself that it was a fact. "You kind of remind me of him."

Derek wasn't paying attention, still reading from his book.

"What about the translation," Hoshi said. "Power in Blood, Knowledge in Power, Wield Both."

"What if blood activates it," Phlox said. "Some blood was spilled on the medallion only moments before our transportation."

"It's possible," Tara said. "But the legend says that only the descendants of Arantaf can utilize its true power."

Phlox shrugged, as calm is if they were discussing the weather outside. "Perhaps the man we found aboard the ship was a blood descendant of Arantaf. It's certainly a possibility."

"But that would make him his great-great-great-great-great…" Hoshi stopped. "I can't even count the greats from a thousand years, but his grandson. Or grand-nephew or something."

"Blood is blood," Phlox said.

"But how would it have been activated on our side?" Tara asked.

"In the same manner, I assume," Phlox replied.

Dawn blinked. "So one of our friends is related to his Arantaf guy?" she asked. "I don't know if that's really cool or kinda scary."

"I'd go for kinda scary," Tara said.

Hoshi looked over at Phlox and, in Denobulan, asked, "Do you really believe all this, Doctor?"

"Keep an open mind, Ensign," he replied in his native tongue. Then in English, he added, "Do you know how this amulet was discovered?"

Tara shook her head. "Again, we just got here. Buffy found it last night, that's all I know."

Phlox cocked his head to one side, thinking. "How does an amulet, apparently lost for centuries, suddenly turn up?" he asked.

Dawn smiled ruefully. "You'd be surprised the things that just turn up in this town."

"So what next?" Derek asked.

"Research, I guess," Tara replied. "We need to learn more about the Warden, anything about it or Arantaf."

Hoshi looked at the stacks of book in front of them. And sighed.

~*~*~

2152

After Spike's display in Sickbay, Buffy had a feeling Archer would believe her if she told him the moon was made of Swiss cheese. She was grateful he seemed to accept her at face value, without needing to reveal anything about her being the Slayer. Archer was a man who wanted the best for his ship and crew, and right now he believed that Buffy could offer him that.

His only caveat to her and Spike entering the other ship was that Archer go along. Buffy tried to argue it, but Archer insisted. Vehemently, considering what Buffy had told him about vampires and their abilities. Then Tucker had joined in, arguing that he knew the ship the best of anyone, since he'd been over there the longest. Archer had tried to talk Tucker out of it, but both men were equally stubborn. They appeared to settle the matter that both were going even before Buffy could decide. Finally she had acquiesced, quietly ordering Spike to keep both eyes on them at all times.

Wood was scarce on Enterprise. They finally had to take a chair from a crewman's quarters and chop it up into stakes. Buffy could tell Archer felt foolish about the whole thing, but he seemed to accept it at the same time. He was in intriguing man. Tucker, too, but in a different way. They were good friends, that much was certain. Tucker reminded her a bit of Xander when Buffy had first met him—scared to death, but never willing to let her go at it alone. No matter what.

Reed was stable by the time the foursome was ready to go. Gibson would remain in Sickbay to look after him. T'Pol had been assigned to the Warden's ship logs, to determine what had happened on board. She would report anything as soon as she learned it. Willow and Giles were content to stay at the alcove's computer terminal. Buffy left the amulet in Giles' custody. Willow was continuing the information search that had been started, grasping the computer's basic function very quickly.

Archer had ordered Ensign Malloy to get a cup of coffee. The woman was frazzled by the talk of vampires and of Reed's injuries. Malloy agreed, and took Anya and Xander along with her to the Mess Hall. Xander seemed perfectly content with the idea of food.

Two security personnel were posted at the airlock. The more Buffy saw of this ship, the more she was inclined to believe they really were in space. With the facts piling up, it became harder and harder to disprove it to herself.

Tucker continued to keep a wary eye on Spike. Not that Buffy blamed him. Buffy had once looked at Spike with the same suspicion and distrust. It amazed her to think how much she actually trusted him now, after all that had happened with Glory and Dawn. With the resurrection. The secret they shared.

The four entered the Warden, and the airlock sealed behind them. It was a smaller ship than Enterprise. Darker and more compact. The power was on and Buffy was grateful for that. It would make hunting easier.

The first thing Buffy wanted to see was the room where they had found the two men. She let Archer take the lead, but kept close to his back. Spike brought up the rear, constantly listening with his vampire ears for sounds they could not detect. Archer held his stake in a clenched fist, the only physical sign of his apprehension. Buffy felt her respect for him grow.

They made it to the bridge without incident. The chair had been left out and soft light glowed from the room beneath the deck. Buffy dropped down first. It was empty, with no visible signs of entrance or exit other than from above. Archer also came down, leaving Spike and Tucker above.

"We found the dead man over there," Archer said, pointing. "And the other man over there."

Buffy walked to the second location. There was no blood visible, but she crouched down. She ran her finger over the deck, not surprised when it came off covered with thin ash. Very familiar ash. But there was no sign of a weapon, nor had one been found on the man. Only the amulet.

She stood up suddenly and walked over to the ladder. Peering up, she said, "Spike, put that chair into place above us."

"What for?" Spike asked, appearing in the hole.

"I want to test something," Buffy said. "Give me thirty seconds, then open it up."

Archer joined her by the ladder. The chair slid into place above them, covering the hole smoothly. Buffy went up a step, feeling along the edge of a latch or mechanism of some sort. Nothing.

"What is it?" Archer asked.

"There's no lock on this side," Buffy said. "Your guy was locked down here by someone else. And locked in with a vampire."

For the first time that day, Archer didn't seem terribly surprised.

~*~*~

It was an amazing sight. Something Xander had never imagined seeing in his lifetime. He and Anya stared out the Mess Hall window in awe, staring at the vast space all around them. Dotted here and there with stars and planets, light years away, but brilliant in their light. Anya slipped her hand into Xander's, impressively speechless by the view.

"Oh, Xander," she breathed. "Can we get married in space?"

Behind them, Ensign Malloy laughed. But Xander knew she was serious.

"Y'all want anything to drink?" Malloy asked.

"Fruit punch," Anya said absently, still enamored with the stars.

"Make it two," Xander said.

"Comin' right up," Malloy said.

Xander heard her move off. He was also vaguely aware of several other crew members in the Mess Hall, trying not to stare at them. But Xander didn't care. While he was a bit worried over the prospect of returning home, the idea of being permanently stuck in a time with space ships was extremely appealing.

He and Anya sat at a table by the window, still mesmerized by what they could see. Ensign Malloy came over with two glasses of juice and a mug of coffee. She seemed amused by their attention deficit and sipped her coffee quietly.

"You guys do this a lot?" Malloy asked after several minutes.

"Do what?" Xander asked, swiveling in his seat to look at the officer. "Vampires, yes. Time travel to different dimensions? Nope, first time."

"I used to do it all the time," Anya said with a touch of wistfulness. "Not time travel, exactly, but move with the speed of thought. Anywhere I was called."

"Called?" Malloy repeated.

"So what do you do?" Xander asked, changing the subject before Anya could go on a tangent about her former job as a Vengeance Demon.

"Security Officer," Malloy replied. "And call me Anne. How about you? What do you do?"

"Construction," Xander said conversationally. "It's a booming market in Sunnydale. Something is always being burned down, or destroyed by inter-dimensional hell beasties." He realized Ensign Malloy as staring at him. "Uh…"

"I own a magic shop," Anya announced proudly. "Well, I co-own it, with Giles. I wonder how my money is. Do you think Tara and Dawn are watching the shop?"

"An, honey," Xander said, patting her hand. "I'm sure the shop is fine."

~*~*~

2001

"Um, I think I got something," Hoshi announced, looking up from the heavy text she was reading. She was impressed to find all eyes at the table immediately on her. Hoshi traced the line of text as she read it.

"Various demons are known to be drawn to the Warden's power," she read. "The most dangerous of which, the Dalzell Demon, will destroy anything in its path to acquire the Warden once it knows of its presence." Hoshi looked up. "That's it."

Tara grabbed a reference text and thumbed through it. "Dalzell, Dalzell," she muttered as she looked.

Hoshi watched her, still amazed at the library of books they had on witchcraft, demons, vampires and spells. Many of the texts were in other languages, and the others found Hoshi very useful in translating them. Latin and Greek were easy.

"Dalzell Demon," Tara announced. She laid the book flat so they could all see the drawing on the creature. "That's it."

It certainly was. The book matched the paper sketch they had found among the other research.

"There isn't much information," Harris said, scanning the paragraph in the book. "Just that it regenerates after you think you've killed it. That can't be good."

"Sort of a 'no weapon forged' kind of deal," Dawn said.

"But if we have a drawing," Tara said. "Then Buffy must have fought this thing. And if she didn't kill it, it knows that the Warden is in Sunnydale."

"You think it will come after it?" Hoshi asked.

Everyone looked at the center of the table where the amulet lay. It looked so unobtrusive. It was hard to believe it possessed so much power.

~CRUNCH~

The sound was so sudden, the five jumped. Derek leapt to his feet, knocking his chair over backward. All eyes were on the front door of the Magic Box as it hung precariously on one hinge.

The Dalzell Demon stared at them from the doorway, its large eyes glowing bright purple. Its shiny black skin rippled over its arms as three-prong claws twitched in anticipation of attack. It spoke gutturally from a hole that was not quite a mouth.

"The Warden," it rasped.

"Run!" Tara yelled.

In a flurry of motion, they were on their feet. Hoshi snatched up the amulet from the table. Dawn led them to a door in the back of the store. Hoshi didn't look back as she ran. All she heard was the splintering of wood that was probably the table. With Phlox at her back and Tara just ahead of her, Hoshi simply ran with the metallic taste of fear in her mouth.

~*~*~

2152

T'Pol had to play the log a second time in order to be certain it was correct. She had recovered the Captain's personal logs. They appeared to be no different than his command logs. They were audio logs only, made four days ago by Captain Liam James. She pressed PLAY, listening carefully to the log.

<"Ship's log, January 6, 2152. It is as I have anticipated. I don't know how they have escaped, but they are now loose on board. Ten of the crew is missing already. Terrence has agreed to go one more time. He believes he will be successful this time. If not, I fear all will be for nothing. My only hope is that if I fall into their hands, the ship drifts into a star or crashes on a planet with a yellow sun. For nothing else will stop the vampires. God help us.">

T'Pol sat for a moment after listening to the log. She was certain Archer would want to know this information immediately. But would she really be reporting anything he did not already suspect? She tapped a command into the computer and it brought up the Warden's personnel manifest. She searched for Liam James, found his file.

The man in the picture was the same man unconscious in Sickbay. The Captain of the Warden had survived, after all. T'Pol ran a search for the name Terrence, found only a single match. She was not surprised by the man's picture. As she suspected, it was the dead man.

"T'Pol to Captain Archer."

<"Go ahead.">

"The injured man in Sick Bay is Captain Liam James," she reported. "The man we found already dead is named Terrence James, brother to the captain. I have reviewed the last log entered by Captain James, recorded January sixth of this year. In it he describes sending Terrence on a mission of importance, that must not fail. He also mentions vampires aboard, sir.">

A brief silence on Archer's end made T'Pol wonder if their connection had been lost. Then his voice came over, a bit shaken.

<"Any specifics on this mission?">

"No, sir, but he speaks as if this is not the first time Terrence has participated in such a mission. I will continue listening to the logs. Perhaps there will be some mention."

<"How about why there were, uh, vampires on board?">

"It sounded as if they were being held prisoner and had escaped. Further research may prove fruitful."

<"Keep me informed. Archer out.">

T'Pol found the next log, going sequentially backward. She pressed PLAY and listened to what it had to reveal.

~*~*~

On the bridge of the Warden, Archer put his communicator back in his pocket. Buffy watched him, her mind ticking away. Terrence had come back in time to 2001, probably crossing into an alternate timeline. Either on purpose or by accident. But if Terrence had left a talisman in 2001, did that mean there were two that existed in 2152? Or had he found where her universe's Warden was hidden?

"We'll need to talk to Captain James," Archer said. "And soon. Maybe he can fill in some gaps for us."

"I hope so," Buffy said. She looked around for Spike, spotting him at a computer console. He was poking at it in frustration. "Spike?"

"How do you make this damned thing work?" Spike asked without turning around. Buffy heard the hitch in his voice.

"What is it?" she asked, walking over to him.

"You remember before we…left," Spike said. He turned, looking at Buffy with liquid eyes, a strange anxiety in them she's never seen before. "I said I knew something. And I never said what."

"What?" Buffy said immediately. "What do you know? Dammit, Spike, have you been hiding something this whole time?"

"No," he said. "Not really."

Tucker stepped up to the console. "What do you need to see?" he asked.

Buffy could have slapped herself. She remembered now, just before they were transported, Spike saying he knew something about the Warden. Just needed to see it first. In one quick motion, Buffy had Spike pinned against the console, his arm twisted up behind his back.

"What do you know?" she asked, enunciating each word very carefully.

"The vamp who was dusted downstairs," Spike said, making no move to break away. "The captain guy didn't need a stake because he had the amulet. You can't be a vampire and not know the legend of the Warden. 'When one of the line of Arantaf holds it and touches it to demon flesh, the flesh becomes as ash.'"

Buffy let him go. Spike turned around to face her, drawing up his full height to try and preserve some dignity in front of Archer and Tucker. Archer watched, fascinated by the power struggle playing out between Slayer and Vampire.

"You're telling me you think Captain James is descended from Arantaf," Buffy stated.

"Yes," Spike said.

"That's what you needed the computer for?" Tucker asked.

"No," Spike replied. "I need to see a geneology."

"Of what?" Archer asked.

"Captain James's line," Spike replied. "As far back as it goes."

The realization hit Buffy like a brick. A memory from years ago floated back to her. In high school when Spike and Drusilla first landed in Sunnydale. Giles had helped her research some of their past, their patterns and habits. Spike, aka William the Bloody, formerly William James of London, England. Each of these thoughts tore through Buffy's mind like a runaway train, leaving her mind reeling. Was it possible?

"Find it," Buffy said to Tucker. Then she pointed at the pocket his communicator was stored in. "And can I use that thing?"

~*~*~

Willow was in heaven with Enterprise's computer. So much information at her fingertips, just waiting to be plucked out. She and Giles had spent the last twenty minutes pouring over everything the earlier search had turned up on the Warden—the amulet and the ship. She had discovered a legend of Arantaf very similar to their own. Except where that legend left off with the amulet being lost, this one had an amended ending.

"It is supposed to have stayed within the family, passed from one son to another," Giles read aloud. "Century to century, the family guards the Warden and its secret."

"So it wasn't lost here," Willow said, looking over at Giles to confirm her suspicion.

"It appears not," Giles said. "But it leads me to wonder if the Warden does exist in both of our universes, where exactly did the timeline diverge?"

"I don't know," Willow said. "When was this entry recorded, anyway?"

Giles scanned the information on the monitor. "I'm not certain," he said. "But the text we read from was printed in 1883."

"So maybe the change happened around then," Willow said. "Something happened and the Warden was lost."

"Or stolen," Giles said.

"I still don't understand the Latin translation," Willow said. She propped her elbows on the console, pointing to the PADD with the information.

"Blood was a powerful part of many ancient magiks," Giles said. "If our research is correct, the Warden can only be activated by a blood descendant of Arantaf."

"A blood relative…blood," Willow said, paling a bit. "He was bleeding."

Giles stared at Willow, not understanding. Then it seemed to hit him. His eyes widened at the implication of their theory.

<"Buffy to Sickbay. Willow, are you there?">

Willow looked up. She saw one of the comm panels on the other wall of the alcove and walked over.

"Um, Willow here," she said. "Buffy, we need to talk."

<"It'll have to wait, Will. I need you to tell me something. What's the translation of the writing on the amulet?">

Willow stared at the comm.

<"Willow?">

"Uh," Willow said, shaking her head to clear her mind. "It said 'Power in Blood, Knowledge in Power, Wield Both'."

<"It is blood, then."> Muffled voices. <"Will, I need another favor. Look up a geneology for Captain Liam James. We tried on this computer but it doesn't go back farther than the first ship's captain.">

At the computer, Giles instantly began a search for the information.

"It's Spike, isn't it?" Willow asked.

Silence.

"Buffy?"

<"We think—Look out!">

Scraping sounds, then silence. Willow touched the comm panel, but their connection had been cut off. Panicked, Willow looked over at Giles. His eyes were glued to the computer monitor as information began to scroll across it.

~*~*~

<"It's Spike, isn't it?">

Willow's blunt question had startled Archer as much as the others. While he still found all of this hard to accept, the way in which Willow had said that left little doubt in Archer's mind it was true. She had apparently found something else in Enterprise's computer to support the theory. Couple that with the tell-tale bloody bandage on Spike's hand and the fact that he was the one holding the Warden when Archer had first seen them in Sickbay.

Buffy and Spike stared at each other, their gazes locked in a mutual understanding Archer couldn't hope to fathom. Buffy broke the stare first, looking away as she spoke into the communicator.

"We think—" Her eyes widened at Archer. "Look out!"

Too late. Archer felt something slam into him from behind, knocking him to the deck. He cringed at the crunch in his pocket where his communicator was. He heard grunts and thumps as Buffy, Spike and Trip hit the ground in the same fashion, and a cracking sound as the other communicator was dropped.

Archer felt a cold wind on his neck, sending a sharp tingle up his spine. Reacting out of pure instinct, he reached back to grab his attacker's arm and easily flipped him over his own head. Archer jumped to his knees even as his attacker turned to crouch, facing him. The vampire's demonic eyes glowed yellow. It hissed. Archer felt his stomach knot in fear.

Nearby he heard more thumps and grunts, Buffy and Spike fighting. Trip shouted, then he heard the whip of Spike's leather duster as he moved. But Archer kept his eyes on this vampire, recalling what Buffy said about their speed. Archer was amazed to realize he still had his stake in his right hand. He squeezed it, comforted by its presence.

With an angry scream, the vampire lunged straight at Archer. He let it come at him, then jerked to one side. The vampire missed and went flying into the bulkhead. Archer spun and plunged the stake into the vampire's back, hoping he'd correctly estimated the heart's location.

The vampire exploded in a cloud of fine ash.

Archer sneezed, staring at the stake in his hand. Very slowly, he turned his head. Buffy and Spike stood nearby, stakes in hand. Spike changed from the demonic face back to his normal face. Trip knelt by them, panting lightly. They watched him.

"Starfleet Command is never going to believe this," Archer muttered. "Time traveling, vampires, wooden stakes…."

"Welcome to my world," Buffy said with a small smile.

~*~*~

Crewman Whitford and Crewman Dillon stood outside the airlock, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. They hadn't understood the Captain's orders to lock them inside the boomer ship, but had followed them nonetheless. All they did understand was Lt. Reed had been injured by an unknown element on board. It was odd he would go back with two strangers and Commander Tucker—and without Security of any sort—but they trusted the Captain's judgment.

"It's weird, is what it is," Dillon muttered. His hand traced the seam on his holster, a nervous gesture.

"Damn weird," Whitford agreed. "And what about that girl he took with him? You seen her before?"

"Never," Dillon said. "And that other guy was just plain creepy. Looks like he hasn't seen the sun in a decade."

"Probably boomers," Whitford said. "They're cooped up on their ships a lot more than we are."

"How do you know that?" Dillon asked.

Whitford shrugged. "I don't. I'm just guessing."

Dillon rolled his eyes. A sudden banging sound on the other side of the airlock startled them both. Fists pounding feverishly against the metal separating the two ships. Dillon and Whitford locked eyes.

"Is it the Captain?" Whitford asked, eyes wide with fear.

"Wouldn't he have used his communicator?" Dillon countered. His hand strayed to his phase pistol.

"Not if they're hurt," Whitford said. "Or what if their communicators are broken."

The pounding ceased abruptly. Dillon made a decision. He walked to the wall and pulled the release. A hiss of air and the airlock door swung open.

Two figures leapt out of the darkness, faster than a human could move. Dillon and Whitford were knocked backwards, hitting the deck hard. The last thing they saw were demonic faces leering down at them. They fell into unconsciousness to the sound of the airlock sealing itself closed again.

~*~*~

Buffy walked over and offered a hand.

Archer took it, amazed at her strength as she practically yanked him to his feet. Trip climbed to his feet, dusting a bit of ash off his uniform. Archer noticed Spike still standing at a distance, staring at the computer console. Spike had brought up a picture of the first captain of Warden, Captain William James. The physical resemblance between Spike and this Captain James was uncanny, from the angular jaw line to the slim build. The only difference was age. James was in his fifties. Spike was…however old he'd been when he'd died.

It was a strange thought. That the man standing—walking, talking—in front of him was dead. No heartbeat. No breathing. But still animated. From Archer's understanding so far, vampires were evil beings, so why was Spike helping them? He didn't think it was his place to ask right now. If it came up later—and it was likely to, considering the conclusions they had been reaching lately—he would press. But not just yet.

Archer felt at the pocket his communicator was in. He could feel several pieces moving around. "Damn," Archer said. "I'll need to get another communicator before we go any further."

"Agreed," Buffy said. She toed the remains of Trip's, then bent to pick it up. "I guess your people can fix it. Sorry about that."

"S'okay," Tucker said, putting in back in his pocket.

"You hear that?" Spike asked. He stood near the bridge door, his head cocked and listening.

Archer walked over. He heard metallic clacking sounds, like large doors closing…or an airlock seal breaking.

An awful thought struck him, and it must have struck Buffy, too, because she stared at him with an expression of horror. Warden crew members had been turned into vampires. They could still fly the damn ship!

Buffy was several feet down the corridor before Archer could make his feet move. The foursome ran toward the airlock, hoping they were not too late. They must be controlling the ship from the Engine Room, since he had just come off the bridge. He was sure Enterprise would send out the grappler once they realized the ship was loose. Buffy skidded to a stop in front of the closed airlock, then looked at Archer. He slammed up against the bulkhead in his haste, but they were too late.

The seal had been broken. Warden was no longer attached to Enterprise.

~*~*~

2001

Tara wasn't quite sure where they were going. All she knew was that the Dalzell Demon had remained behind to tear through the Magic Box. Tara had a vague notion of a pissed-off Anya verbally abusing the hulking Demon. She almost laughed through her fear.

The group was running down the back alley behind the shops on this street. Dawn stopped when they reached the next street, gasping for breath. Tara made her way past the three she had dubbed "castaways" to stand by Dawn.

"What now?" Dawn asked, looking back over her shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed.

"I don't know," Tara replied.

Dr. Phlox, Hoshi and Derek stood huddled together, none apparently sure what to think. Tara didn't blame them their fear. She had been overwhelmed herself when he'd first met Willow and the Scoobies. It was okay to be afraid. But how do you tell that to three people who were in some form of military and had been flung a hundred and fifty years into the past?

"If this thing can track the talisman," Dr. Phlox said, panting a bit from his exertion. "Should we not contact the local authorities and seek their help?"

Tara glanced at Dawn, her shook her head.

"The police in Sunnydale are kinda clueless," Dawn said. "Besides, they'd either tell us to get lost or arrest us for drug use if we told them a shiny black demon tried to steal a magic necklace from us."

A Mazda drove by and honked its horn. Tara watched, amused, as Hoshi and Derek jumped away from the sound. Dr. Phlox only looked on with his usual expression of blatant curiosity.

"Was that a gasoline-run car?" Derek asked.

"Yeah," Dawn replied. "We have a lot of those around here."

Hoshi smiled thinly. "What about a place we can hide? Or at least be better able to defend ourselves if this thing finds us again."

"Most of the weapons were in the Magic Box," Tara said.

"We have a trunk of weapons at our house," Dawn said. "It's got all kinds of stuff."

"What sort of weapons?" Hoshi asked.

"A broad sword," Dawn said, ticking off the list on her fingers. "A couple bottles of holy water, some stakes, a hatchet, a battle ax, um…"

"Okay," Hoshi said. "Now I know I'm going crazy."

"Then we're all going there together," Derek said, nudging her in the ribs.

"I'm serious," Dawn said. "You should see what my sister can do with a broad sword, she's awesome!"

Dawn quieted a bit, realizing what she'd said. Tara slipped an arm across her shoulders, knowing how she felt. Missing Buffy. Tara missed Willow, too.

"We'd better go," Tara said. She looked at Dr. Phlox. "Um, try to be inconspicuous. People around here have seen strange things, but never aliens."

"Intriguing," Dr. Phlox said.

~*~*~

2152

"Here it comes," Giles said.

Willow looked up from the PADD she had been reading from, watching the geneology of Captain William James scroll out across the computer screen. The dates went as far back as 1409, when the first of the line surnamed James was born. The names branched out as brothers married and had children, cousins remarried cousins, uncles took new wives. But always, straight down the line, a son was born to carry on the name James. Most of them were named William, Willem, Liam, or some other derivative of the name. Firsts, seconds, thirds in line.

"Spike said he was born in 1855," Giles said. He scrolled up to find the eighteen-hundreds. There it was, there on the computer screen.

William James, III, born 1855 and died 1913. Married Joan Cromwell in 1881. Three children, names Liam, Robin and Elizabeth.

"My God," Giles breathed. "It's true."

"In this timeline," Willow said, "William didn't get turned. Spike never existed here. He actually married and had a life. I wonder why Drusilla didn't choose him here? Maybe Drusilla never existed here. As a vampire, I mean."

"No time to worry about that now," Giles said. "Wil—Spike, rather, was part of the line of Arantaf. When he was turned before he could have children, the line was broken. Either he never inherited the Warden…"

"Or he's the one who hid it away," Willow finished. "Because he knew its power and he knew that he would be the only one able to activate it. Or Angelus took it and hid it. Or maybe Darla. Wow, so many things—"

"Yes, yes," Giles said. "We need to tell Buffy. Spike is our link to getting home again."

"Is your research coming along?" T'Pol asked.

Her sudden appearance startled them both. Giles and Willow exchanged a knowing look, both wondering exactly what to tell her. But they never got the chance.

<"Bridge to Sub-Commander T'Pol.">

"Go ahead."

<"The Warden had broken airlock seal and is moving away.">

T'Pol's eyebrow arched, a minimal display compared to the open-jawed shock of Willow and Giles.

"Have you hailed them?"

<"Yes, there is no response. And the Captain isn't answering his communicator.">

"I'll be right there. Prepare the grappler and catch them before they have a chance to go to warp."

<"Aye, sir.">

T'Pol looked at them with a schooled expression. "Perhaps you would like to join your friends in the Mess Hall?" she asked.

"We're quite all right here," Giles said.

T'Pol nodded and walked out of Sickbay. Giles watched her go, then glanced at Willow. She stared at him pensively.

~*~*~

Trip tried the helm controls, but was unable to make them respond. He hit the console with a frustrated growl. So far it seemed Warden was drifting away from Enterprise, but no engines had been engaged yet. Trip looked at Archer, who was busy trying to engage the comm systems with no luck.

"Cap'n, I need to get to their Engine Room," Trip said. "Looks like all controls have been rerouted there and locked out from the bridge."

Archer looked up from the communications console. "We should have seen this coming," he said.

"Come on," Trip said. "This is all shiny new to us. I mean, vampires? You really think you could have predicted they'd still be able to operate the ship? Maybe our little vampire hunter friends, but us?"

Archer offered a wan smile. "Still, I don't like the idea of letting ourselves get stuck on a ship full of vampire personnel. We should have expected it."

"Maybe," Trip said.

Spike and Buffy entered the bridge. Trip stood up, Archer moved to join him in the center of the bridge.

"The rest of the deck looks clear," Buffy said.

"The Engine Room is C-Deck," Trip said. "That's where I'd be if I wanted full control of this ship."

Buffy nodded. "Then we're moving down."

She turned to leave, Spike right on her heels. Archer followed. Trip gripped his stake tightly as he followed Archer off the bridge and toward the turbolift.

"Look at it this way," Trip said softly to Archer. "At least they're all trapped over here and not on Enterprise."

~*~*~

His head felt funny. A bit swimmy, like he'd been drinking for several hours. But he knew he hadn't been drinking. What had he been doing? For that matter, where was he now? He knew he was lying down somewhere. There were soft voices nearby, but he couldn't make out any of the words. Were they talking about him?

His neck was sore. He was tired, every limb aching. The familiar sterile scent told him he must be in Sick Bay. So was it Dr. Phlox's voice he heard somewhere so near?

Was I in an accident?

No, that didn't make sense. He'd been on the boomer ship, looking for survivors. Wondering where the missing crew was.

That noise. He recalled the sound. It had led him to that dark room. The room where he'd seen that hideous face. Leering at him. The eyes, so hungry. Hungry for him.

Malcolm Reed shouted, sitting straight up. His eyes flew open, then immediately shut against the glare of Sick Bay lights. He heard a woman's voice, felt her hands on his chest. Pressing him to lie down. He didn't want to lie down.

He opened his eyes again, recognizing Ensign Gibson. Her eyes were wide with fright, probably scared by his outburst. But he didn't care. He had to tell them what he'd seen. Warn them.

"Lieutenant, please lie down," Gibson said. "You're still very weak."

Malcolm turned his head and a wave of dizziness crashed over him. He let himself be pushed back down on the bio-bed. The dizziness subsided.

"Is he awake?" an unfamiliar, but unmistakably British voice asked.

Gibson turned toward someone Reed couldn't see. "Yes," she replied. "Can you watch him? I need to tell Sub-Commander T'Pol."

"Yes, of course," replied the Brit.

Malcolm turned to see whom she was talking to. Near Phlox's alcove he spotted a gentleman in his forties, sporting old-fashioned specs and a funny-looking sweater. Behind the man was a red-haired girl, a bit younger than Travis.

"Who are you?" he croaked, amazed at how dry his mouth was.

"My name is Rupert Giles," the man replied. He took a few steps forward, his hands in his pants pockets. "This is Willow. It's a bit hard to explain, really."

"I'll ask again when I'm not seeing two of you," Malcolm replied, blinking again more dizziness. "Where's the Captain?"

Mr. Giles looked at Willow. She shrugged. Mr. Giles frowned, then looked back over at Malcolm.

"He's on the other ship," Mr. Giles said carefully. "The Warden."

"What?" Reed squawked. "Bloody hell, does he know what's over there?"

"He does," Mr. Giles said. "He took a, um, a specialist with him."

"Specialist in what?" Malcolm asked.

"Hunting," Willow replied. "Don't worry, they know what they're doing."

A devilish chuckle turned Mr. Giles and Willow's attention to the doors of Sickbay. He heard Ensign Gibson gasp. Malcolm struggled onto his elbows to see what was happening.

Four men in gray jumpsuits stood in the entrance. All were deathly pale and leered at the four others like they would a fresh meal. One held Crewman Yen by the neck of his uniform, his unconscious form swaying like a limp doll. The eldest of the group, a tall man with black hair, looked at the bio-bed next to Malcolm where the injured boomer still slept. Then he looked at Malcolm and Malcolm felt a wave of recognition.

In an instant, their faces morphed into something hideous, something Malcolm remembered all too well from the Warden.

"Lunch time," the black haired one growled.

~*~*~

Xander reminded himself to thank the ship's Chef personally. After the fruit juice, his stomach had begun to growl. At Anne's insistence, she brought he and Anya plates of pecan pie. It wasn't something he'd eaten before, but now he was in love.

And judging by the fact that Anya was on her third piece, so was she.

"This is really good," Xander said, scraping the last few crumbs off his plate.

"We should definitely serve pecan pie at the reception," Anya said.

Anne chuckled. Xander smiled, then wondered what her demon friends would think of pecan pie. He also wondered what exactly you served demons for dinner at a wedding reception. Xander quietly chided himself for having wedding anxiety here and now. In an alternate dimension, no less.

"I wonder what everyone else is doing?" Anya mused. "Probably not eating nuts and sugar and pie crust like us."

<"Security to Ensign Malloy. Report to the Armory immediately.">

Anne looked them apologetically. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

"It's okay," Xander said. "Duty calls. We'll probably head back to the hospital—"

"Sickbay," Anne said.

"Right, to Sickbay," Xander amended. "See what our friends are up to."

"Okay," Anne said, standing up. "It was good to meet you, Xander and Anya."

They watched her leave. Anya put down her fork and sighed dreamily. She shifted her chair closed to Xander and snuggled against him.

"Xander?" she asked. "Do you think we'll wake up tomorrow and all this will have just been a nice, happy dream?"

"My dream or yours?" he asked.

"Mine, of course," Anya said, swatting him lightly.

"What if it isn't a dream?" Xander asked. "And this is all real?"

Anya giggled softly. "Then we'll have the memory of sex on a starship," she replied, a bit too loudly.

Two officers at a nearby table turned to look. Xander nodded his head at then, then looked away.

"Do you think they have zero gravity on board?" Anya asked. "Because that would be cool."

"Hehe," Xander said. He stood up and pulled Anya up with him. "Maybe we should get back to Giles and Willow. Maybe they know how to get us home."

Anya sighed. "Okay, fine. But don't say I didn't offer myself to you in a weightless environment."

Flushing slightly, Xander followed Anya out of the Mess Hall and out into Enterprise's corridors.

~*~*~

2001

Hoshi stared at a framed photograph of three smiling faces. The eldest, the mother, stood behind the other two, looking down at them and laughing. Hoshi recognized Dawn, perhaps a few years younger in this photo, mugging for the camera. The third woman must be Buffy, the sister Dawn had mentioned. Buffy was laughing also, looking down at something out of frame. The three looked so happy, caught in this moment of joy.

She put the picture back on the fireplace mantle. There were several others, mostly the three Summers women alone or in pairs. A collection of life and memories. Family. Also several photos of the friends Tara and Dawn had spoken of. Hoshi picked out Xander immediately. He did bear a striking resemblance to Derek.

Hoshi suddenly missed her parents very much. She hadn't spoken to them in a long time. And now, finding herself stuck on an alternate Earth and in the past, she wondered if she would ever see them again.

"That's my mom," Dawn said.

Startled, Hoshi turned. Dawn stared at a photograph of the three, her young eyes so sad.

"Her name was Joyce," Dawn continued. "She died last spring."

"I'm sorry," Hoshi said. "She was very beautiful."

"Yeah," Dawn said. "She took care of us. Now Buffy tries, but…"

Hoshi placed a gentle hand on Dawn's shoulder. "You'll get your sister back," she said. "Every problem has a solution. We'll find this one."

Dawn smiled at Hoshi, a genuine smile. "Thanks," she said.

Phlox walked over to them holding a small dagger in his hand. "A unique weapon," he said, showing it to Hoshi. "It is from Japan, is it not?"

Hoshi took the dagger and examined the carvings on the hilt. "Yep," she said. "Maybe from the twelfth century or so. You guys have a lot of old things, Dawn. Does your family collect?"

"Only on a protection basis," Dawn said. "I think Giles gave us that last year. He likes to keep the weapons trunk stockpiled."

Hoshi looked over to the couch where Tara and Derek sat, talking animatedly about a book he'd found on the coffee table. Hoshi smiled. Get Derek interested in a new subject and he would ask a thousand questions, sometimes for hours. He was a good scientist.

"So do we wait for this Demon to come after us?" Hoshi asked. "Or do you guys usually formulate a plan?"

"Buffy was more of the planner," Dawn said. "Or Giles. Sometimes Spike or Willow came up with a good one. Not so much Xander or Anya."

"Well, we need to find out this Demon thing's weaknesses," Hoshi said. "Is there anything here to research that with?"

Dawn shook her head. "No, we don't have very many texts here," she replied. "Some are at Giles's place, but most were at the shop." Dawn's eyes lit up. "Wesley!"

"Who?" Hoshi asked.

"Wesley?" Tara asked, standing up from the couch. Then she seemed to get it. "Oh, right. He's got books."

"Who's Wesley?" Derek asked.

"A friend," Tara said. "He's really smart. I hope he's there."

Tara walked over to the telephone across the hall in the dining room. She picked it up and began to dial.

"Wesley lives is Los Angeles," Dawn explained. "He moved there after, uh, that's actually a long story. But anyway, I'm sure he'll help. He's big with the research gig. Hey, are you guys hungry? I haven't had lunch and I've starved."

Hoshi realized she was a bit on the hungry side herself. She glanced at Phlox and Derek, and was met both times with approving stares. She looked at Dawn and nodded. "Food would be great."

"Cool," Dawn said. "We've got frozen pizza. How's that sound?"

"Intriguing," Phlox said. "Is it better frozen than hot?"

Dawn blinked, then laughed. When she realized Phlox was serious, she looked at Hoshi for help. Hoshi grinned and just shook her head.

Tara walked back into the living room, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Wesley said he'd call back in fifteen minutes," she said. "And did I hear someone mention pizza?"

~*~*~

2152

Trip let Buffy take point, following just behind her as the foursome moved down the dim corridor toward the Engine Room. Archer was just behind him, with Spike in the rear again. They heard no unusual sounds during the trip from deck to deck. Just the soft thrum of power in the conduits. And as far as Trip could tell, no engines had been engaged.

The ship jolted so softly they almost missed it. The sound of steel clamping on metal whispered through the corridor.

"Sounds like they got us with the grappler," Archer said.

The corridor split into two directions. A pair of double-steel doors hid the Engine Room on the left. On the right and through an entryway was an enormous cargo hold, half full of various large and small items. Trip tried the door lock to the Engine Room. It didn't open.

"It's locked," Trip said.

"Can you hot wire it?" Buffy asked.

Trip winked at her. "This may be their ship, but it's old technology," he replied. "Just give me a minute."

He removed the panel just below the lock. A jumble of wires fell out. He put the panel down and picked through the wires one by one, finding the three he needed to circumvent the lock. Trip found a circuit board and pulled the three existing wires out. Then he replaced them with the new three. Just as he pressed the last one into place, he heard a soft whine.

"What is that?" Archer asked.

Trip looked up and listened. It stopped as suddenly as it began. Buffy and Spike exchanged worried glances, then looked at Trip. He shook his head.

The corridor lights dimmed, startling them. In the soft gold hue, red klaxons began to blink beneath the grated deck plating. The ship shuddered.

"That can't be good," Trip said. He finished with his adjustments, then hit the lock. The doors to the Engine Room slid open.

And three vampires flung themselves through the door. Trip jumped out of the way, watching as two of the demons tackled Archer, and all three crashed to the floor. The third leapt at Buffy, but she knocked it out of the way effortlessly. It fell sideways and Spike staked it into dust.

Trip dove forward and yanked one of the vampires off of Archer, surprised when it turned to hiss at him. It was a woman. Had been a woman. Caught off guard, the she-vampire lashed out, knocking Trip back against the bulkhead. It took off running down the corridor. Buffy threw her stake, catching the she-vampire in the back. It dusted in mid-step. Trip heard another soft poof and looked down.

Archer had twisted onto his back and lay with his stake facing upward. A fine veil of ash coated the front of his uniform. He blinked up at the ceiling.

"You okay, Cap'n?" Trip asked.

"Yeah," Archer said, sitting up. "That's two in ten minutes. I'm getting pretty handy with this thing."

"Captain?" Buffy asked. She stood in the Engine Room entrance. "Are those blinking bars a good or a bad?"

Trip and Archer scrambled to their feet, pushing past Buffy into the Engine Room. The engine console was completely dark, save a small screen in the very center. The impulse engine power levels. The bars were already past safety levels and heading toward critical.

"They overloaded the engines," Trip said. "They're tryin' to blow up the ship."

~*~*~

T'Pol strode onto the bridge. Mayweather turned in his chair as soon as he entered, ready to report.

"Grappler is away," Mayweather said. "We have a good hold, but it doesn't look like the Warden is trying to get away. It's just floating out there."

T'Pol moved to the center of the bridge, then looked at Ensign Broward at the communications console. "Any word from the Captain or Commander Tucker?" she asked.

"None," Broward replied. "I'm not getting a signal from the ship, either. I've tried hailing them several times."

T'Pol walked over to the science console, peering into the viewer. They had tried to adjust sensors for the radiation aboard Warden, but readings were still only sixty-percent accurate. "I have three life signs moving toward the Engine Room," she reported to the bridge crew.

"Three?" Mayweather repeated, startled.

"As it should be," T'Pol said.

"There's only three—" he said again.

"As it should be, Mr. Mayweather," T'Pol said firmly. With sensor inaccuracies, it would be impossible to get a good transporter lock, without the added problem of locking onto Spike, who didn't even register on their sensors. Searching for bio-signs hadn't helped either. "Retune the sensors to search for any movement aboard the Warden, Mr. Mayweather. Large mass movements. Perhaps sensors will be more useful in this than in locating life signs."

Mayweather looked skeptical, but he set about making the proper adjustments. T'Pol did a second scan of the Warden's interior. A new reading came up at another console.

"Sub-Commander," Ensign Lopez said from her position at the weapons console.

"Yes, Ensign," T'Pol said.

"Energy levels in the Warden's engines are rising," Lopez reported. "I've estimated two minutes before they reach a critical state."

T'Pol looked at the image of the Warden on the viewscreen, connected to Enterprise by a cable. Their team appeared to be near the Engine Room. She had every confidence Commander Tucker could reverse the engine build-up. But could he do it in time?

"Prepare to release grappler," T'Pol said. "And to move to a safe distance, should it become necessary."

"Can't we transport them out?" Mayweather asked.

T'Pol shook her head. "Not with the radiation interference. We have not been able to adjust for a proper lock. We will wait as long as possible before moving away."

"Aye, ma'am," Mayweather replied.

~*~*~

"Uh oh," Willow said. It was all she could manage. Seeing four vampires standing in the Sickbay of a space ship was more than a little overwhelming. And realizing you had no stakes or other instruments of vampiric destruction was terrifying.

Ensign Gibson stood rooted in place, only an arm's reach from the nearest vampire. She was white as snow, her eyes round with fright. An overweight vampire hissed at her and she screamed. As if that was the signal, the four vampires moved in unison, each one attacking a different person. Yen was dropped to the floor in a heap.

Giles blocked the two vampires charging toward him and Willow. She stepped backward, slammed into a counter, and began reciting the words of a spell.

Across Sickbay, Gibson was screaming loudly. Reed had tumbled off the bio-bed in time to miss his attacker. He launched himself across the room, yanking the fat vampire off of Gibson. The fat vamp turned and hit Reed squarely in the face, knocking the already weak officer to the floor. He was picked up and thrown across the room. Reed hit a counter hard, and rolled to the floor.

Giles grunted as one of the vamps kicked him in the stomach. A sharp blow to the face knocked off his glasses and sent the Brit sprawling. The vampires sneered, then froze. Both looked up in time to fly across the room as a bolt of energy exploded from Willow's hands.

Reed picked himself up using the counter as leverage, vaguely wondering why the creature had not set upon him again. His fumbling hands found something on the countertop. It was a laser scalpel.

He spun around just as two vampires flew across the room in a shower of sparks. Before that fully sank in, he heard Gibson scream again. This time it was cut short. Reed spun around, blinking back dizziness. The fat vampire had Gibson in his arms like a child, his mouth attached to her neck. Reed held up the laser scalpel and charged forward. He pressed the button. A small beam of orange light shot out, cutting straight through the vampire's neck. It screamed as its head was severed. The body disappeared in a cloud of dust. Gibson fell to the floor.

"Duck!"

Reed ducked, crouching low to the ground. He felt awesome heat as a bolt of light surged over his head. He heard a thump that could only be the fourth vampire hitting the far wall. Reed turned, using the laser scalpel to destroy that vampire as well.

Willow was impressed with the little weapon Reed had found and used. She bent to help Giles back to his feet. He had a nice-sized welt on the side of his face.

Two vampires were trying to pick themselves up. Reed turned when he saw their movement, cutting them down as well. Then he dropped to his knees next to Jenna Gibson. She stared up at the ceiling with open eyes. Eyes empty and fixed.

"No," Reed said, gazing at the bloody wound on her neck.

Ensign Gibson was dead.

~*~*~

Xander heard the scream before they were even in sight of Sickbay. Anya stopped short, tugging on his arm to stop. But Xander pressed forward, dragging Anya long with him. They turned a corner and the doors of Sickbay came into view. He saw a flash of light inside.

Willow.

Another scream made him run faster. When they finally burst through the Sickbay doors, they almost tripped over a young Asian man crumpled on the floor. There was complete silence inside. Willow was supporting Giles, who had taken a very recent beating. One officer—was that Reed?—knelt next to the replacement doctor.

"Oh, man," Xander muttered.

"They're on board?" Anya asked plaintively, her eyes searching out Giles.

Giles bent to pick up his glasses. He slipped them onto his nose, ignoring their strange new shape. "It appears so," he said. "And we don't know how many."

"Oh, God," Willow said. She looked away from them, toward the row of beds.

"What?" Xander asked.

Willow walked over to the bed where the old man lay. She reached out and touched his neck. Her fingers came away immediately. She looked up.

"Captain James is dead," Willow said softly.

~*~*~

Buffy knew zilch about Engineering. Less than zilch about how starship engines ran. So she was content to stay out of the way while Tucker and Archer went about preventing the ship from blowing up. From their rushed chatter, she gathered they had about two minutes left to live if they couldn't fix the problem.

Another near-death situation. They just seemed to flock toward her. But standing there waiting to live or die wasn't her idea of fun.

"I'm going to patrol this corridor," she told Spike. "See if there are any other vamps on board that didn't bug out already."

"I'll come—"

"Watch them," Buffy said. "They need you more than I do."

She looked away before she was the hurt in his eyes. But she didn't care. Right now she wanted to pummel something. And so far the vampires in this universe hadn't proven much of a task.

Buffy left the Engine Room and walked across to the storage bay. The door was already open. She stepped inside. It was an enormous room, stretching a good hundred feet back, at least twenty feet tall. She was on the top level, the rest of the cargo bay below her. A metal catwalk ran the perimeter of the room. It was dimly lit, but bright enough to see to the far side. Warning klaxons, similar to the ones on the corridor, flashed intermittently, reminding Buffy of her eventual fate.

She wanted to believe that the Starfleet officers could fix the engines. Keep them from blowing up. But part of her didn't care. What would happen if it really blew? She would die. Again. Or would she wake up in her own bed in Sunnydale, and discover this whole day had just been a nightmare.

She leaned against the guard railing and gazed down over the cargo bay, willing whatever was going to happen to simply happen. And be done with it.

The air shifted. As Buffy turned, something hurled itself at her from behind. She hit the railing and lost her balance. Without a sound, Buffy and her attacker pitched over the rail and fell into the darkness of the cargo bay.

~*~*~

Malcolm Reed put his grief away. It would have to wait. He had to warn the bridge. He had listened to hurried explanations from the four strangers in Sickbay, listened as they prattled on about vampires and talismans and time travel. Then he blocked it all out. Vampires or rogue aliens, he didn't care. The creatures that had attacked him were apparently on board Enterprise.

Crewman Yen had regained consciousness, sporting a large lump on the back of his head. Anya tended to him. While Mr. Giles and a young man—had he said his name was Xander?—gently placed Jenna Gibson on a bio-bed, Malcolm marched over to the comm panel.

"Lt. Reed to Armory," he said.

<"Yes, Lieutenant."> It was Ensign Malloy.

"We have a level-one security emergency," Malcolm said. "I want security teams patrolling this ship right now. Look for anyone out of sorts, wearing a gray jumpsuit or similar clothing. Anyone you don't immediately recognize as an Enterprise crew member."

<"Are they to be detained, sir?">

Detained, yes. But how? Malcolm saw Anya watching him. A cross hung on a thin chain around her neck and she fingered it like a security blanket. But did they want to turn all of them into dust? Where would they get answers? He could feel the laser scalpel he'd placed in his hip pocket.

"Yes, detained," he finally replied. "But they are extremely hostile, very fast and very dangerous. Do not hesitate to use force. I don't know what affect the phase pistols will have on them, so put all settings on kill."

<"Sir?">

"You heard me, Ensign," Malcolm said. He heard the rising panic in his own voice and mentally calmed himself. "I'll be joining you shortly. Reed out."

He immediately opened another comm, turning away from the bio-beds as the two men pulled a sheet over Gibson.

"Reed to bridge."

<"Go ahead, Mr. Reed,"> T'Pol said.

"Sub-Commander," Malcolm said. "They're on board."

~*~*~

"I think I've got something," Mayweather announced.

T'Pol looked up from the weapons console where she and Ensign Lopez had been monitoring the engine readings.

"Looks like ten individual masses aboard Warden," Mayweather continued. "They all appear to be congregating around one of our people."

"Where?" T'Pol asked, coming around to stand behind the helm.

"A cargo bay," he said. "No, there's eleven of them. Two were standing too close together to identify them separately."

<"Reed to bridge.">

T'Pol stood up straight. Her expression remained neutral, but she was pleased to know that Lt. Reed had regained consciousness. However, the emotion in his voice was unsettling. She touched the comm on the captain's chair.

"Go ahead, Mr. Reed," T'Pol said.

<"Sub-Commander, they're on board.">

The bridge officers looked at T'Pol curiously, but she didn't have to ask Lt. Reed what he meant by "they." She knew who they were and apparently so did Reed.

<"Four of them attacked us in Sickbay,"> Reed continued. <"They ki…killed Ensign Gibson. I've alerted Security. There may be more of them.">

"Acknowledged," T'Pol said. She felt the atmosphere on board shift at the news of Ensign Gibson's death. The first loss of an officer was a hard blow dealt to a crew. And to one as green as Enterprise, Gibson's loss would be hard to bear.

T'Pol did quick calculations in her mind. The Warden had a crew manifest of forty-one people. The two in Sickbay, then eleven on sensors, the four on Enterprise. She hazarded two to five disposed of on the Warden thus far. Nowhere near the correct number of people.

"Scan Enterprise for extra bio-signs," T'Pol told Ensign Mayweather. "Anyone not human, Denobulan, or Vulcan."

<"Sub-Commander,"> Reed said, still not finished talking. <"Captain James is dead. He wasn't attacked, just dead.">

"Thank you, Lieutenant," T'Pol said. "Commence with your searchers and use extreme caution at all times."

<"Always. Reed out.">

T'Pol turned to Ensign Lopez. "What is the engine status of Warden?"

Lopez looked up from her console. "Critical mass in thirty seconds, Sub-Commander," she replied.

"Prepare to release the grappler on my mark," T'Pol said.

~*~*~

Archer had noticed Buffy leave the Engine Room, but was too preoccupied with the engine repairs to ask where she was going. Spike stood near the doorway like a sentinel, watching both the corridor and the Engine Room. Trip bolted around the small room, pulling circuit boards and crossing wires like a madman. The ancient impulse system was simple enough, but the repairs took a bit of time. And the system was already a mess.

"Cross-wire the green wire with the black wire on the second circuit," Trip said. "Then flip the switch."

Archer reached into the gutted console in front of him and pulled out the two wires. He stripped them with his teeth and twisted the bare ends together. He pushed the switch above it, watching as a row of colored knobs along the console lit up.

"What next?" Archer asked.

Trip's head had disappeared beneath the main engine console. The reply came back muffled, but distinct enough to be made out.

"Cross your fingers," Trip said.

Archer knew it was an old metaphor, but he crossed them anyway. The power bars on the screen had gone past gold into the red danger zone. The thrum of the impulse engines pulsed in his ears, like a second heartbeat with a dangerous arrhythmia.

Something zapped with power and Trip yelped. He jumped up, slamming the top of his head on the underside of the console.

"Dammit," he said. "Hit the power down button!"

Archer reached over Trip and pressed the requested button. The engine thrum abruptly diminished as the impulse engines powered down. The power level bars on the main screen dropped quickly. Trip backed out of the console and looked up, rubbing the top of his head.

"That's about as close as I like to cut it," Trip said.

"Amen," Archer replied.

In the sudden quiet of the Engine Room, Archer was finally aware of a missing presence. He looked around, but saw only Trip.

"Where'd Spike go?" Archer asked.

~*~*~

Buffy twisted as she fell, hoping for a soft landing. She hit the deck of the cargo bay on her feet, but the impact sent her rolling. Her momentum rolled her across the ground until she slammed against a large crate, knocking the breath from her lungs. Buffy gasped, shaking her head to clear the fuzziness away.

Whatever had knocked her down wasn't too anxious to attack again. Buffy was able to right herself and still had not been attacked. She peered around the cargo bay, but her view was stilted now by the various items stored here. She looked back up to the catwalk where she'd been standing, but there was nothing there.

Buffy stood still, listening. Soft scrapes. Footsteps. No breathing. The hum of the engines. Something shuffled behind her and Buffy dropped to one knee.

The vamp that had tried rushing her flew over her back and slammed against a container the size of an SUV. Buffy jumped back to her feet in time to see three more vampires bolting toward her. Finally, a fight.

A high kick sent a vamp flying, even as she finished off a second with her fist. The third landed one good punch before Buffy kicked it in the stomach. One uppercut jolted it backward. Buffy's hand went to her belt, feeling for the stake. It wasn't there. She turned to look for it and realized the vamps had stopped attacking.

The four she'd already fought had picked themselves up and moved off to a short distance. Buffy looked up. Six more stood on top of various cargo containers, leering down at her. In the dim light, their demon faces seemed more menacing them usual.

"Lose something?" one of them asked, holding up her stake. It had the slightest hint of a British accent, more like Spike than Giles.

"Misplaced," Buffy said conversationally. "But thanks for finding it for me. Wanna hand it over? It isn't nice to take things that aren't yours."

"Perhaps you should follow your own advice," the vamp sneered.

"Okay," Buffy said. "Cryptic much?"

"The Warden," it said. "You stole it from us."

"Fair enough," Buffy said. "See, I'd give it back, but I don't think you really want it. It just might kill you."

The vamp roared with laughter. "Not likely," it said. "You see, little girl, anyone of the line of James can wield its power. To a demon its power it even greater than your puny human mind can imagine."

Buffy frowned. "Okay, if want the talisman back so badly, why blow up your own ship? Doesn't that kinda defeat the purpose?"

A horrible smile spread across the lead vampire's demonic face. "Stupid girl," it said. "This engine overload is just a distraction, for you and your other ship."

"Stupid girl?" Buffy repeated, beginning to get really irritated. "I take it you creeps don't have Slayers in this universe?"

"Slayer?" it said. Then it growled loudly. "Eliminate her!"

"Better vamps have tried," Buffy muttered.

A dark shadow dropped down next to the lead vampire and kicked the stake from its hand. It was Spike, vamped out and ready for a fight. The stake flew through the air. Buffy flipped over the head of a vampire that rushed her and landed in time to catch the stake. She shifted her weight as seven vampires surrounded her.

~*~*~

T'Pol watched the seconds tick by. She opened her mouth to give Mayweather the order to cut Warden loose.

"Sub-Commander!" Lopez said. "Warden's engines are powering down. They did it."

At the helm, Mayweather's grip on his console loosened visibly. Indeed, a bit of weight had lifted and tension diminished. T'Pol found it fascinating how the humans emotions had varied considerably in the past few minutes. However, further introspection would have to wait.

"Engines are stabilizing," Lopez continued. "Energy output is normal."

"What of our crew members?" T'Pol asked.

Mayweather looked at his console. "Still looks like eleven to one, Sub-Commander. Wait…two appear to be moving off from the others. Toward our two people in the Engine Room."

"Where—"?

The bridge lights dimmed, then quickly returned to normal. Across the bridge, computer consoles flickered. Information appeared and disappeared. Mayweather's console went dead, then flickered on at half power.

"Engineering, report," T'Pol said.

The comm replied, fuzzy and garbled. <"…Lt. Hess…across the ship…not sure…cause…stand by.">

T'Pol looked at Broward, how shook her head.

"Communications are receiving interference," Broward said.

"Can we locate the source of the interference?" T'Pol asked.

Broward's fingers danced across her console, a line of perspiration breaking out over her brow. The console beeped. Broward paled. "The computer core," she reported.

T'Pol touched the comm, hoping it worked. "Security to the computer core immediately. Security, respond."

~*~*~

2001

The savory aroma of cooking pizza wafted from the kitchen into the living room. Derek had discovered a collection of magazines in a basket and was intently reading them. Culture absorption, as he called it. Hoshi and Tara were reading from the few books they had at the house, searching for clues but mostly passing time.

In the kitchen, Phlox explored the cabinets and drawers as Dawn watched him curiously. Even though she still thought he looked kind of creepy, his intense curiosity toward everything was refreshing. He asked about the microwave, the dishwasher and the freezer. She let him sample some of the food they actually had in the house and learned he much preferred real milk to resequenced protein shakes.

Dawn would have to agree on that part.

"What's your planet like?" Dawn asked.

Phlox looked up from the whisk he was holding. "Oh, our society is a great deal different from yours," he said. "Although many of my people prefer to stay at home, rather than travel the stars."

When Phlox offered up no more information, Dawn tried again.

"Why did you decide to become a doctor?" she asked.

"It was my assigned profession," Phlox replied. He put the whisk back into the drawer and picked up a turkey baster. "We are placed based on our intelligence levels, not out of preference for the work. However, I find I do enjoy being a doctor. It certainly allowed my work on Enterprise."

"How--?"

The telephone rang. Dawn leapt for the cordless on the kitchen wall and snatched it up.

"Hello?" Dawn asked the same moment the other line picked up.

<"Hello, Dawn?"> Wesley asked. She recognized his voice instantly.

"I have this, Dawn," Tara said on the second line.

"Okay," Dawn said, but didn't hang up.

"Did you find something?" Tara asked.

<"I'm afraid so,"> Wesley replied. <"The—"> A series of loud thumps interrupted him. <"Cordelia, I'm on the telephone!"> The thumps stopped. <"Thank you. Tara? I'm afraid I did find a few things. Dalzell Demons are extremely rare, drawn out of their nests only by the appearance of a strong mystical power source.">

"Could the sudden appearance of the Warden is Sunnydale have woken it up?" Tara asked.

<"Possible, but not likely. You see, Dalzell Demons only nest in very hot climates, usually near the Equator in Africa or South America. It's unlikely it could have gotten to Sunnydale so quickly. Perhaps it only realized the Warden was here once it got here, too.">

"Then what could have woken it up?" Tara asked. "Something big enough to make it come all the way to Sunnydale to find its source."

"Glory," Dawn said automatically.

"Dawn?" Tara asked. "Are you still on?"

<"Glory?"> Wesley asked. Even over the telephone, they could hear the change in his voice from fact-giver to theory-maker. <"The rip in the fabric of reality Glory created last spring. That certainly had enough power in it. And the passage of months accounts for the Demon showing up now.">

"So it's my fault it's here," Dawn said bitterly.

"Dawnie," Tara said.

Dawn hung up. When she turned around, Phlox was peering into the oven, watching the cheese bubble on top of the pizza. She looked at the clock.

"It's done," Dawn said.

With Phlox's help, she slid the pizza pan from the oven and sliced it into eight pieces. They gathered paper plates and napkins to take into the living room. When the pair took the food in, Tara was already off the phone.

"Did he say how to kill it?" Hoshi asked.

Tara looked at Dawn, but Dawn looked away. She busied herself handing out the pizza.

"Yes," Tara said. "But it isn't going to be easy."

"So what else is new?" Dawn muttered.

~*~*~

2152

Once two security guards had been posted outside of Sickbay, Malcolm Reed was confident enough to leave and join the hunt. While Willow and Anya were content to stay behind with the computer, Xander and Mr. Giles fought to go along. Malcolm initially would not allow it, but after no small amount of pestering—and a detailed history of their suitability to hunt vampires in any environment—he had acquiesced. On the condition they stay with him. Malcolm made himself personally responsible for their safety.

On his orders, several pieces of furniture had been whittled down into stakes for general security use. While Malcolm didn't have time to explain exactly why his security teams should use wooden stakes to the heart, they were inclined to follow orders. Once stakes were distributed, Reed felt a bit safer about sending his people out.

The vampires invading their ship were boomers, so they knew their way around computer systems. That put the vampires at an advantage. Malcolm made Engineering and the Bridge their first priorities. After Giles handed an amulet over to Willow, the four men set off.

Malcolm, Mr. Giles, Xander and Crewman Monroe were on the turbolift heading for Engineering when the lift suddenly stopped moving. The lights dimmed for an instant, then brightened again. Malcolm pressed the START button, but the lift did not move.

"What's wrong?" Xander asked. "Are we stuck?"

"Quiet, Xander," Mr. Giles admonished him softly.

"I'm sure it's just a glitch," Malcolm said. He touched the comm panel, but only a static signal greeted him. "Reed to Bridge." Nothing. "Reed to—"

The turbolift began falling.

~*~*~

Trip's head still hurt from banging it on the underside of the main Engine console. It had been a job to re-stabilize the engines. Strangely enough, it had almost seemed like the problem had been purposefully created to give it a complicated solution. If Trip had wanted to overload Enterprise's engines, he would have just ripped out a few essential circuits, making the process impossible to reverse.

As if they wanted him to stop the overload.

Now two of their team had disappeared. Archer walked over to the Engine Room doorway and looked out into the corridor.

"You see 'em?" Trip asked.

"No," Archer replied. He turned around to look at Trip. "Maybe they heard something."

"Yeah," Trip said. "Now that we aren't in danger of blowin' up, let's see if I can't get helm control back up and get us over to Enterprise."

"Then what?" Archer asked. "At least now we know the vampires are on this ship. What if we dock with Enterprise again, and they get over there? I can't let that happen."

"So what then?" Trip asked. "Should we have just let this ship blow up?"

"No," Archer said. "But we need to find a way to stop them. If this crew was transporting vampires, they must have had measures to contain them. Or control them in case of escape."

"Apparently it didn't work too good," Trip said. "Look at what happened to 'em."

Archer didn't reply. He seemed to turn inward, considering his options. Trip gazed around the Engine Room, remembering only an hour ago when he'd been trying to repair these systems. Ensign Fox had had trouble with one of the consoles, because the insides had been completely fused together. Trip said it wasn't a vital system, so he let it go.

Why was he thinking about this now?

Trip walked across the Engine Room to that particular console. He studied the controls, trying to understand what they did. It appeared to be tied into the internal lighting system. As he read the small print above various keys, his eyes widened.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," Trip mumbled.

"What is it?" Archer asked, appearing by his side.

"I think we just caught a lucky break," Trip said. "This computer is tied in with the ship's internal lighting system. It also operates an independent system that can only be accessed from this console."

"What's it do?"

Trip fixed his eyes on Archer's. "It emits UV radiation through the lighting system, throughout the entire ship."

"UV radiation?" Archer asked. He searched his memory for what little he knew of vampire lore. Then it clicked. "You mean the sun."

"Yep," Trip said. "It's a fail safe weapon. Push a button and the sun comes up all over the ship."

"Does it work?"

Trip shook his head. "It's fried, but not beyond repair," he replied confidently. "Not if I can help it." Trip knelt down to examine the insides of the console. "Most of the internal circuits are fried to a crisp. I can bypass, but I need something metal to carry the current. Something flat, about ten centimeters."

"Would something in the tool kits help?" Archer asked. He brought over one of the Enterprise kits that had been left behind.

Trip searched through the items, but nothing was right. "Nothin' here," he said. "A knife. A knife of some sort would work. I'd need a couple of 'em."

"Do you know where the Galley is?" Archer asked.

"B Deck, I think," Trip replied. "Why?" Then he realized. "No way, you aren't goin' up there alone, sir."

"Trip—"

"Sorry, Cap'n," Trip said. "You go, I go. We split up with vampires runnin' this place and one of us could end up real pale and minus a heartbeat."

"We can't leave the Engine Room unguarded," Archer said. "They could come back and try something else."

"I'll lock the door," Trip said. "If we move fast enough, by the time they figure out how to unlock it, we'll be back."

Archer still didn't look convinced, but Trip was certain the idea of traipsing around this ship alone had not appealed to his captain. Still there was a look of grim resolve on Archer's face, matched only by the one on Trip's.

"Fine," Archer said.

~*~*~

The turbolift fell two decks before emergency clamps took hold, jolting it to a sudden stop. The four passengers slammed together as they tried to right themselves.

"Oh, God," Xander said, his eyes wide. "Was that supposed to happen?"

"No," Malcolm replied. "Something's messing with our power. I'm guessing it's whatever tried to kill us in Sickbay."

"Are we stuck in here, or do the doors open?" Giles asked.

Reed tried the emergency release, but the turbolift doors refused to open. He looked up at the hatch on top of the lift.

"We'll have to go up," Malcolm said.

Crewman Monroe boosted Reed up high enough to unlock the hatch, and to climb up and out. The shaft was dark, lit on each floor by one small emergency light. He looked down either side of the lift, but the clamps appeared to be holding. A metal ladder was embedded into the shaft, running up.

Reed poked his head back down into the lift. "I'll go up to the next deck and see about opening the doors," he said. "Wait here."

Xander seemed about to comment, but a sharp glance from Giles silenced him. Malcolm pulled back up and began to climb the ladder. It wasn't far and he made the distance quickly. At the base of the deck doors, Malcolm pulled away a small panel. He mentally reviewed his Basic Engineering Functions Academy course in his head, then bypassed the main lock.

The doors slid open and Malcolm found himself face to face with a pair of brown boots. He looked up, past the gray uniform to the demonic face that glared down at him.

"Oh, dear," Malcolm said.

~*~*~

Spike stared down the vampire he'd heard talking to Buffy. His uniform was ripped and bloody; he'd probably put up a fight before he was turned. A scrap of fabric that had once been a name tag read DANE. The vamp was furious at losing the stake, but regarded Spike calmly as his buddies swarmed around the Slayer.

"You're one of us," Dane said.

"Yeah," Spike said. "But not like you."

"You are." Dane began to circle Spike like a vulture. "We have the same blood, you and I. We're brothers. Well, cousins, at least."

Spike narrowed his eyes at Dane. He would easily admit he was muddled right now about the Warden and its sudden re-entry into his life. He hadn't thought of it in a century, supposing it long lost with its power. But the power of the Warden was so very tempting to Spike. And learning that, demon or not, he could still wield its power…well, it made him pause.

Below, he heard the sounds of fighting. He glanced down in time to see Buffy break one vamp's neck while roundhousing another. She could handle the cronies down there. But this one up here, he interested Spike a bit more.

"So what's the plan, then?" Spike asked. "Fly around in your spaceship and make vampires out of every planet you come across?"

"Not every planet," Dane said casually. "Yellow suns are killer in this part of the galaxy."

Spike realized it for the bad joke it was and simply snorted. "And I suppose no one will be able to stop you, because there are no Slayers in this universe?"

"Slayers went out of fashion a century ago," Dane replied, looking down at Buffy as she fought the six remaining vamps. "But there is one now. Although not for much longer."

"You obviously don't know this Slayer," Spike said. "Or me."

Spike moved with ferocious speed, yanking his hidden stake from his coat. He lashed out, intending to pierce Dane through the heart. Dane anticipated, blocking the blow and hitting Spike square in the jaw with his open palm. Spike fell backwards, off of the cargo container and onto the hard floor of the deck.

Near him Buffy grabbed both sides of a keg-sized container and whirled it around. The bottom of the keg cracked the heads of two vampires, sending them careening backward. Using the momentum, she swung a bit harder and set the keg free. It sailed across the bay toward Spike and hit a vamp that had just started to get up behind him.

Finally the vampires in this universe were putting up a fight. And Buffy Summers was relishing every minute of it. She stepped over Spike to punch another vamp.

"You gonna help now?" she asked.

He snorted and rolled to his feet.

A girl vamp rushed toward Buffy with a wild cry. Buffy sidestepped the attack, grabbed its hair and slammed it headfirst into a cargo container. She staked it from behind, then turned for another victim before the vamp had finished dusting.

Buffy turned, waiting. Spike stood next to her, but no further attack came.

"Where'd they go?" Buffy asked, peering into the gloom.

Sudden scraping sounds preceded a barrage of sharp edges and heavy poundings. Buffy and Spike fell to the ground as a pallet of loose cargo spilled forth on top of them, burying them beneath its weight.

~*~*~

The vampire reached down and grabbed Malcolm Reed by the collar. It pulled him right up out of the turbolift shaft and held him at eye level. This was a tall vampire and Reed had a queer thought that it looked a little like Commander Tucker with red hair. Then it threw Malcolm down the corridor. He landed roughly and rolled, skidding to a stop against the wall.

Malcolm twisted around, expecting another attack at any moment. But the vampire had other plans. It jumped into the shaft and disappeared from view.

"Buggar," he muttered.

He crawled to his knees, gasping as a muscle in his back screamed in protest. He paused, willing the pain to go away. Steeling himself, Malcolm used the wall to pull himself to his feet. He shambled over to the shaft and peered in just as a head popped up over the edge.

"I could use a hand," Giles said. He stared up at Malcolm, who stared right back. "What? I told you we have experience at this game."

Malcolm grinned and offered a helping hand to his fellow Brit.

~*~*~

Buffy shifted her position as much as possible, but was unable to budge the mess above her. She lay on her left side, her legs trapped beneath several large crates. Something long and flat was kept from crushing her chest only by its precarious perch on the corner of one of the round storage containers. Her entire body felt pummeled and bruised from the avalanche.

"Spike, can you move?" she asked. She couldn't see him from here, but knew he was nearby. He'd cursed a blue streak just half a minute ago.

"I got my legs free," Spike replied, his voice muffled and seeming very distant.

Something creaked, like wood under stress. The flat piece above Buffy's head shifted and she froze, wondering if it would fall. It didn't.

"Spike," she hissed.

"Keep your pants on, Slayer," he growled back. "This is tricky business."

"Your tricky business is going to make something very heavy flatten my head," Buffy said.

"Hold on, then," he said.

Buffy heard more things creaking, a loud series of pops and crashes. Then silence.

"Spike?"

"I'm here," he said, his voice almost in her ear.

Buffy turned her head to the right. She could barely make out Spike's face between two of the cargo containers. He had a large gash above his left eye, but didn't seem to notice. He examined Buffy's predicament, then his head disappeared.

She waited. Seconds later the flat piece quivered as a weight was removed from above it. The flat thing followed and the dim lights from the top of the cargo bay came into view. Buffy let out a deep breath. Nothing like being buried alive—again—to freak you out when you really didn't need to be.

They made quick work of the crates pinning down Buffy's feet. She carefully crawled to her feet, making sure nothing was broken. Buffy felt a trickle of blood on her shoulder from a long scratch, but no other wounds.

Buffy looked around the cargo bay, expecting an attack. There was nothing.

"Now where did everyone go?" Buffy asked.

~*~*~

The galley had not been used in several days. Dishes had been left unwashed all over the tables and sinks. Burnt pots and pans still rested on the stove. Spoiled food covered the chopping block and various other surfaces. And a rank odor wafted out of the partially open, but totally defrosted, cooler.

"That's just nasty," Trip said.

Archer grimaced as he stepped inside the small galley. Trip followed. He spotted a carving knife in a sink full of crusty goo. He was not about to touch that.

"Look in drawers and stuff," Trip said.

They walked around to the main counter and began pulling open drawers. All sorts of cooking utensils presented themselves; some appeared a bit more useful than others. Trip set them aside, along with a wire whisk. You never knew when you'd need to get really inventive.

Archer pulled another drawer. "Found the knives," he said, holding up a handful. "This enough?"

"Looks good," Trip said. "I should have enough stuff now."

Trip squatted to peer inside a cabinet just in case. He saw a shadow move across him where one shouldn't be. Trip pivoted his head around in time to see a vampire slam into Archer and knock them both to the floor. Trip shot to his feet, only to be hit from behind by a second vampire.

He hit the ground hard, landing partially on an overturned pot and crushing his ribs against it. Trip gasped and rolled. The skinny vampire fell away. Trip managed to stumble to his feet before the vamp rushed him again. This time Trip dodged out of the way, tripping it on its way past. The vamp crashed into the counter, sending pots and pans flying.

Trip pulled the stake out of his pocket. Behind him Archer grunted painfully. Trip turned to look and the skinny vampire lunged at Trip, slamming his already sore ribs into the edge of the stove. The stake went flying. The creature was at his back, clawing at his neck. Trip gasped for air, panic overtaking him.

He reached out and grabbed an iron skillet off the stove, ignoring whatever was growing inside. Trip flung it backwards, whacking the vamp over the head. It stumbled backward. Trip spun around. He lined up the skillet, pulled back and swung it hard at the vampire's head. It hit with full force, cracking its skull and sending it flying backward. The vamp landed in a heap.

Archer shouted and Trip turned. The other vampire had the captain pressed against the door of the cooler, locked in a stalemate of choking hands. Trip bolted over and gave that vampire a solid whack across the head. It dropped like a sack of stone. Archer coughed, then looked up. His eyes widened.

"Trip!"

Trip felt a hot sting in his already sore ribs, colder and much sharper than anything he'd ever felt. He watched the shocked look on Archer's face melt into horror.

"What the…?" His legs gave out suddenly and Trip stumbled to the floor. He fell against a counter and slumped down to the ground.

Movements and sounds whirled around above him, but Trip didn't pay attention. He touched his side, surprised to find something sticking out of it. The handle of a knife. He couldn't see any of the blade's length. Red already soaked the uniform around his wound and he had a sudden urge to cough.

"That can't be good," he muttered.

"Trip?"

Trip looked up. Archer squatted next to him, pulling his hands away from the wound.

"Don't pull it out," Archer said.

"I can't leave it in," Trip said. His head felt swimmy, his stomach a bit woozy. "How can I fix the lights with a knife in my side?"

"Don't worry about it," Archer said. "I'll take care of it."

"How will you know what to do?" Trip asked. He knew this was a stupid thing to be arguing about, but he didn't care. He'd been stabbed, dammit!

Archer reached over and found a clean towel. He carefully folded it into a thick square. Trip watched him with open curiosity, trying to ignore the sting that was quickly becoming a sear. His lungs felt funny and he began to pant. It was harder to breathe.

"So after this is over," Archer said conversationally. "I'm thinking I'll reevaluate my beliefs in the supernatural."

"You and me both," Trip said. He blinked and swallowed. His mouth felt very dry..

"Remember the Plume of Agosoria?" Archer asked.

"Huh?" Trip tried to focus. "Yeah, it was really pretty. Lotsa colors. Why—?"

Archer yanked out the knife. The distraction partly worked. Trip didn't feel it until the blade was out and Archer pressed the folded towel against the wound. He groaned as sharp spikes ran up his side and through his gut. Trip clutched at the towel, doubling over and sliding down to the floor.

"Aw, that hurt," Trip said. He coughed. "Damn."

"Sorry," Archer said. He bent over Trip, concerned. "I need to work on my bedside manner."

"Hurts like hell," Trip said. Strangely the sudden, blinding pain had cleared his head a bit. "We need to get this stuff back and fix that lighting fail safe. Help me up."

"Trip—"

"Cap'n, if you're gonna tell me to rest, don't," Trip said. "We don't have time. I'm fine to move."

Trip wasn't sure if he was convincing Archer or himself, but it seemed to work on both accounts. Archer stood up and hooked his arms under Trip's armpits, gently lifting him up to his feet. Trip bit his lower lip to hold back a sharp yelp. His bruised ribs and torn flesh screamed at him. Trip leaned against Archer, letting the captain support him as his knees threatened to give out again. He noticed there was no sign of the two vampires. His lungs tickled, but he repressed the urge to cough again.

"My stake," Trip said. No way he was leaving that behind.

Archer's eyes searched the floor until he spotted it. He stuffed his pockets with the stakes, knives and utensils they needed. Archer led them through the kitchen. As they passed the last counter, Trip reached out and grabbed a wooden spoon.

Off of Archer's look, Trip said, "Just in case."

~*~*~

T'Pol watched as monitors and consoles across the bridge flashed intermittently. She had not received word from any of the security teams. Internal communications were fuzzy at best, when they worked.

"Sub-Commander," Mayweather said. "I'm getting partial readings on internal sensors. There are large mass movements on all decks, but most seem to be concentrated in the lower half of the ship."

Engineering and the computer core. It had been several minutes since T'Pol had sent the order for Security to report to the core. So far there had been no response. And still no word from Warden. It was becoming more and more difficult to suppress her concern for the ship and its crew.

"I will go to the computer core myself," T'Pol said. "I intend to correct this problem as quickly as possible. Lt. Wandrey, you have the bridge."

"You shouldn't go alone, Sub-Commander," Wandrey said.

T'Pol nodded toward the security officer. "Noted, Lieutenant, but I need you at your station."

T'Pol walked over to the turbolift and pressed the call button. The doors slid open almost immediately and a shadow launched itself at her. T'Pol slammed into the bulkhead behind her, but did not cry out. Her vision swam. She heard the bridge crew's startled exclamations, but focused instead on her attacker. The gray jumpsuit and ridged brow of what Captain Archer believed was a vampire. Its rapid movements confused her and she quickly felt a sharp sting on her throat.

Scuffling footsteps were all around her, but all T'Pol could comprehend at that moment was the rush of blood loss. Then it ended abruptly and the creature shoved her away, spitting and hissing. T'Pol clutched a hand to her neck to stem the green flow, amazed at the creature's reaction to her blood. Mayweather, Wandrey and Lopez stood in a defensive triangle around the two.

The creature's skin had paled considerably, seeming to shrink smaller around its skull. It was younger than she had expected, perhaps sixteen human years. Had there been other children among the Warden crew?

"What are you?" it asked her in a pained voice.

"I am a Vulcan," T'Pol said coolly. She rose up to her full height, her hand falling away from the wound on her neck. "What are you?"

It grinned, baring long, pointed teeth. "Still hungry," it said, and launched itself at Ensign Lopez.

Lopez caught it easily with a right uppercut, knocking it backward onto the deck. Its reflexes had been slowed by its unexpected taste of Vulcan blood. It lay on the deck, unconscious.

"Are you okay, Sub-Commander," Mayweather asked.

"I'm fine," T'Pol replied. She took a moment to regain her composure. "I must still see to the computer core. Bind the intruder. Seal off the bridge and do not let anyone else off the turbolift until you hear from either myself or from Captain Archer."

"Are you sure—" Wandrey began.

"That is an order, Lieutenant," T'Pol said. She would not risk any more lives by taking one of them with her. And if she did run across another intruder, she may have to test the vampire theory by killing it. Watching the creature turn to dust would require too much explanation to any crew member that may accompany her. She would go alone.

Wandrey nodded. T'Pol stepped into the turbolift and let the doors slide closed on her.

~*~*~

They were less than five meters from the door to Engineering when shouts rang out from within. Reed broke out in a run, followed closely by Crewman Monroe, Giles and Xander. Reed stopped at the door and yanked on the handle. It didn't open.

"Bloody hell, it's locked," Reed said. "Monroe, try to bypass it."

Reed turned around and looked pointedly at Giles. "Come with me," Reed said. Then to Xander, "You stay here."

Giles and Xander shared a glance, and then Giles followed Reed back down the corridor a few meters. Reed turned down a short corridor. At the end of it was a door that was unlocked. Reed opened it and went inside. A metal staircase led up one flight. Their footsteps echoed in the silence. At the top was another door. Reed tried this one, relieved to find it unlocked.

Thank God for shortcuts. He could hear the shouts again.

"We'll be on a scaffolding overlooking Engineering," Reed explained quickly. "Just don't stab anyone in a Starfleet uniform."

Giles frowned. "I think I can manage."

Reed yanked the door open and dashed inside. Almost immediately he ran into a gray-suited vampire that had cornered Ensign Fox. Reed plunged his stake into the vampire's back, turning it to dust. Fox stared at Reed, completely stunned.

"What the hell was that?" Fox asked.

"You wouldn't believe me," Reed said. He turned, watching Giles rush down the length of the catwalk to steps leading down. Reed dashed after him.

Somewhere below Reed heard Lt. Hess scream. The scream abruptly ceased and Reed feared the worse. When he reached the steps, Reed could see her standing near the main engine console with a welding torch in one hand. She stared straight ahead, looking from the torch to an empty spot in front of her. Reed remembered his own inventiveness in Sickbay and grinned as he climbed down to the main floor.

Giles had opened the door and let Crewman Monroe and Xander enter. Reed looked around to find five stunned Engineers watching him.

"How many were in here?" Reed asked Hess.

"Only three," Lt. Hess replied. "I, uh, got two with my torch. Are they supposed to do that? Go poof?"

"Yes," Reed said. "Did they do anything to the engines?"

"Nothing," Hess said, shaking her head. "It's not the engines we have to worry about, it's the computer core."

"The core?" Reed repeated.

He didn't have to think. Reed spun on his heel and dashed out of Engineering, only vaguely aware that the others were following him.

~*~*~

"I'm not a nurse," Anya said to the bleeding crewman standing in front of her. "I can use Band-Aids and Neosporin, but twenty-second century medicine is a little beyond me."

The crewman stared at Anya blankly, his hand clutched to the wound on his neck.

"But you should feel lucky," Anya went on, oblivious to the steady stream of people coming into Sickbay with injuries. "That vampire could have killed you instead of just sucking on you. Or turned you, which is a lot worse. Believe me, I've seen it. Not pretty. Being dead does awful things to your complexion."

"Anya!" Willow shouted.

Anya turned around. Willow glared at her from across the room. She stood over a young woman lying on a bed. Nearby, Crewman Yen had his hands full treating other injured crewmen.

"Less talking, more helping," Willow said.

"Can't you just wave your witchy hands and make them all better?" Anya asked.

"Not unless you smuggled a book of magic on board," Willow snapped back.

"Okay, fine," Anya said. She turned back to the injured crewman. "What can I do for you?"

The crewman blanched. "Who the hell are you? Where's Dr. Phlox?"

"I'm Anya," she replied. "And your Doctor is in the year 2001, probably wondering what he's doing there and scaring the hell out of my friends."

"Uh huh." The crewman sighed. "Look, Miss, can I just have a bandage?"

"Of course," Anya replied. "Do you know where they are?"

~*~*~

The knot of fear in Archer's stomach had tightened considerably in the last few minutes. It had been walnut sized ever since they discovered they were trapped on Warden. It had blown up to the size of a lemon when Trip had been stabbed. As Archer helped Trip through the corridor toward the Engine Room, he felt his fear grow steadily worse.

Trip tried to mask his pain and his difficulty in breathing, but he couldn't fool Archer for long. The towel was soaked through with blood and each step appeared to be a greater effort for the engineer. And he'd been unable to contain the urge to cough any longer. Each new cough produced a grimace Trip quickly erased.

"We're almost there," Archer whispered.

The Engine Room door was less than ten meters away. From here, it didn't look as if it had been tampered with.

"I hope Phlox gets back real soon," Trip panted, trying to sound light and failing miserably.

"You're going to be fine," Archer said. "Just a scratch, right?"

"Right," Trip said. He began to cough and Archer stopped forward motion until it subsided.

"You can rest in just a minute," Archer said.

He led Trip forward. They paused in front of the Engine Room door and deactivated the door lock. Archer realized there was still no sign of Buffy or Spike, but didn't have time to dwell on that now. He helped Trip sit down near the Fail Safe console, then spread their collection of utensils on the deck.

"All right," Archer said. "Tell me how to fix this thing."

Trip blinked hard, his hand uselessly pressing the blood-soaked bandage to his side. "Open that first panel and pull out all the wires behind it."

Archer nodded. The panel popped off easily. But the wires were a soldered bunch of scorched metal and plastic. It came out in one large lump.

"Find where the green ones connect to the computer sensor inside," Trip said.

"Okay," Archer said.

He found the green wires and his fingers traveled inside and upward. He had a feeling this little engineering lesson had only just begun.

~*~*~

A soft scuffle redirected Buffy's attention toward the aft of the cargo bay. She was curious as to the whereabouts of their starship companions, but there were vampires to track. That took precedence over her new friends.

"This way," Buffy said.

She led Spike through the maze of cargo, clutching her reclaimed stake and alert to every sound around her. She was grateful Spike did not breathe. It made listening easier. Of course, it also made listening for other vampires that much harder. They made it safely through with no surprises. At the far end of the cargo bay Buffy found a large door, much like the one they had previously come through.

"Wonder where this goes," Spike whispered.

"One way to find out." Buffy tried the door lock, surprised when it opened easily. She froze, expecting an immediate attack.

When none came, Buffy stepped through the door and into another corridor. This was narrow and short, lined with six oval hatchways. At the far end was a round platform, much like a miniature stage. Near that was a single console. Spike stepped up next to her, looking around.

"Looks like something I saw in a movie once," Spike quipped.

"You still watch movies?"

Buffy spun around, stake up. Dane stood behind them with five vampires, all next to an open hatchway. They had guns of some sort pointed straight at her and Spike.

"I wouldn't try anything," Dane said casually, glancing at his armed comrades. "They're set to kill."

Buffy did a quick count of the vamps in the room. "Is this all of you that's left?" she asked.

Dane laughed. "Two of my friends are taking care of your Starfleet friends," he said. "Once they're turned, I think I'll leave you two here. You can kill them, then enjoy your tomb together for a long, long time. If you don't drift into a star first."

Buffy's grip on her stake tightened. She calculated the risk of rushing them, then looked at the five guns pointed at her. They were too far away. She didn't have a chance.

"So what are you going to do?" Spike asked Dane, stepping forward. "Find the amulet, become the biggest bad in the galaxy, and turn every race you come across?"

Dane grinned. "That's about the size of it," he said. "I may only be a distant cousin of Arantaf, but I've still got his blood. A James has always been Captain of Warden. Alas, Warden has served her purpose as a ship. Now she'll serve her purpose as an instrument of power. And destruction."

"I was waiting for that," Buffy said. "It's never just about power. There's always the little catch about destruction and killing anyone that stands in your way. Why is that?"

"Because, little girl," Dane said. "Not even great power can insure loyalty. Besides, I can't imagine the Klingons making very willing slaves. In fact, it will be interesting to see which races we can turn. I don't know if it works with anyone other than humans. All the vampires I hunted when I was alive were once human."

In a weird way, that comforted Buffy. At least there weren't vampires on all the planets out there. Even if she didn't know what a Klingon was.

"First we need to get our children," Dane continued. As he spoke he seemed to grow a bit distant, as if remembering an old summer barbecue with friends. Vampires in this reality really were different.

"Children?" Buffy echoed.

Dane grinned, the corners of his mouth curling into a sneer. "Boomer ships are family vessels. There would have been ten children on board if we hadn't discovered our vampire friends hiding on Lastos Six. We left the children at Port Taus before capturing them." He glanced over at a skinny, dirty male vamp. "He was one of the vampires we found there. Only two of the eight made it this far."

"You were all turned when they tried to get away," Buffy said.

"Smart girl," Dane said. "Unfortunately Uncle Terrence managed to use the Warden to get away and keep it from us."

Buffy thought of the blue robed man, dead in the Sickbay of Enterprise. It was all starting to fall together. Now that she knew how they had come about, she had to figure out a way to stop them. Even if Captain Archer and Commander Tucker were dead, these five could not be allowed to get to Enterprise.

No matter what.

~*~*~

T'Pol finally reached E Deck by way of C Deck where the turbolift had stalled out. After borrowing a stake from one of Reed's security teams, she took an alternate route to the computer core. She had not run into any enemies within the Jeffries tubes, which she took as a good sign. Perhaps the creatures were contained within one area.

The corridor was unusually quiet. T'Pol strode down the center, wary of attack. She thought of the Suliban and their ability to crawl along the ceilings. T'Pol knew little of Earth's vampire legend, but what of that may actually be accurate? All she could do was be conscious of her surroundings.

She turned a corner and immediately heard scuffling. T'Pol sped up, moving as fast as she could without running. The corridor ended in a T-junction and T'Pol turned left. A few feet away two crewmen huddled against the bulkhead, staring through the open door across from them.

"Crewman!" T'Pol called.

They turned to look at her. She recognized them as Crewman Jacobs and Crewman O'Connor.

"Did you see one?" she asked as she approached.

Jacobs nodded, pointing into the room. "It ran into the lab," he replied. "What was that thing?"

"An intruder," T'Pol replied in a clipped tone. "That is all you need concern yourselves with."

"Sub-Commander!" O'Connor yelled.

T'Pol pivoted, her hand automatically raising the stake to mid-chest level. The vampire launched itself out of the lab door straight toward T'Pol. It saw the stake too late and drove itself right into it. The creature snarled, then disappeared in a cloud of fine ash. T'Pol arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Oh my god," Jacobs muttered.

"Come with me," T'Pol said. She turned her stern gaze upon the stunned crewmen. "We need to get to the computer core immediately."

They nodded. T'Pol turned back the way she had come with the crewmen close behind.

~*~*~

2001

"Cold?" Hoshi repeated.

"Extreme cold," Tara amended. "That's why they tend to nest in very hot climates. Extreme cold kills them. It's the only thing. Wesley said they crystallize and break apart. All we need to do is keep the pieces apart. That's all."

"That's all," Dawn said.

Tara sighed. "I know it sounds hard, but I'm sure we can think of something."

"I'd suggest transporting it to the middle of the Arctic Circle," Derek said. "If you had transporters."

"And we're in Southern California," Dawn said. "Not really known for the cold weather."

"I guess the good news is when the sun goes down, it will probably seek a warm place to hide," Hoshi said. "You said it was November, I assume it still gets chilly at night."

"Pretty chilly," Tara said. "But probably not fatal chilly."

"So what do we do?" Dawn asked, folding her arms across her chest. "Lure him into a walk-in freezer and bolt the door?"

"The creature appears fairly intelligent," Phlox said. "I do not believe it would fall for a ruse of that sort. Perhaps a more direct, chemical approach."

"Chemical?" Hoshi asked. Her eyes lit up as if suddenly understanding what Phlox had meant. "Oh."

The telephone rang and Tara sprung up to answer it. "Summers Residence," she said.

<"Tara?"> Wesley asked. His voice sounded strained, perplexed even. <"I found something you should see. It's a photograph. I'm emailing it to Willow's account. Can you access that?">

"Sure," she replied. "What is it?"

He paused. <"You'll have to look for yourself. It's a descendant of Arantaf, the original owner of the Warden amulet. His name was Liam James and he lived in London in 18—">

The phone went dead an instant before the power went out. Tara dropped the receiver and turned to look at the others, still visible in the dim evening light.

"What happened?" Dawn asked.

The front door flew open in a dozen shards of wood that scattered across the foyer. The Dalzell Demon stepped inside, its sharp eyes fixing on Tara, who still held the Warden in her hand.

"Mine," it rasped.

~*~*~

2152

"What's taking them so bloody long," Dane muttered. He paced in front of the open hatchway, stopping to glare at the door to the cargo bay every few seconds.

Buffy watched him carefully. Dane was growing increasingly agitated. Something was wrong. She hoped that something proved to be her companions dusting the two vamps sent after them. They had both shown themselves pretty handy with a stake. The five vampire guards seemed confused, less at ease holding their weapons.

Dane turned to the female vamp. "Find them," he roared.

She nodded and handed her weapon to the vampire next to her before scuttling off. Buffy sized up the four remaining armed vamps. She sensed Spike tensing beside her.

"I'm going over," Dane said to the other four. "Wait for her to come back, then come over."

They nodded. Dane walked to the end of the corridor toward the console and raised platform. Buffy watched him carefully as he fiddled with the controls on the console. He slid a control up, then hit a button. Dane leapt up onto the platform. He was suddenly surrounded by a shimmering blue light, then nothing.

Dane was gone.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered.

Buffy spun around to face their guards. "You know you guys have rats on your ship," she said, pointing behind them. "Look at that, it's the size of a Saint Bernard."

All four turned at the same time. Buffy and Spike launched themselves at the guards. Spike landed on one's back, knocking them both to the floor. Buffy let loose a roundhouse kick the slammed two to of them to the floor. The fourth turned at the last moment and dropped. Buffy hurtled past him, dropping into a roll and coming back up in a crouch. She immediately saw the muzzle of the weapon and a bright red light as it was fired.

~*~*~

Trip squeezed his eyes shut, willing the blur to focus itself. He reopened them and everything was clear again. Archer struggled to push a knife into place, connecting two more circuits. It finally slid in with a screech. Archer turned toward him, his face sweat and soot streaked.

"Okay," Archer said.

Trip struggled to remember the inside of the console. He'd gradually slipped from a sitting position to almost lying down, and he could no longer see inside. His lungs seized, and Trip began to cough. His wound screamed. He tasted blood in his mouth.

He felt Archer's hand on his shoulder, offering support. Trip was simply glad he was not alone.

No one should be alone when they die.

The coughs subsided, but his head had begun to pound. A hard, ceaseless throbbing just behind his eyes and spanning deep into his skull.

"Trip?" Archer asked.

"Reconnect the first circuit board to the main terminal," Trip said. "That's it."

Archer reached back under the console. Trip heard a board slide into place. The console behind him hummed with life. Archer stood up and hovered over a console, checking the readouts. Trip's body slid all the way to the ground, his cheek resting on the cool deck floor. It did nothing to calm the hammering in his skull.

"Here we go," Archer said.

A new set of boots appeared in front of Trip. He started to shout when one of the boots lashed out at him. Trip screamed as it slammed into his wounded side. His vision swam, black spots dancing in front of him. He couldn't breathe. Trip coughed, gasping for air as more blood flowed up his throat and into his mouth. He heard scuffling, but could not see.

Archer shouted, something pained and very far away.

Trip's arm reached up, grasping for a hold. He clutched at the console, finally finding a corner to grab onto. Breathing heavily and almost without thought, Trip pulled. He came up off the deck, pressing his back against the console and inching upward. His side felt numb and his legs didn't seem to want to get underneath of him. Blackness threatened the edges of his vision. Trip paused, coughing so hard he thought he'd never stop. The scuffling nearby increased, mixed with sounds of fists hitting flesh.

Trip spit out a wad of blood. With a quick burst of energy, he twisted his body around and hauled his torso up to lean across the control console. His legs wobbled, threatening to give out. His hands searched the controls, seeking the switch his eyes could no longer see. Trip's fingers brushed across a plastic cover. He flipped it open, feeling the switch beneath it.

Trip pushed the switch up. The lights all around him brightened. Trip slid from the console. As he fell toward the deck, Trip wondered if he'd just turned Spike to dust.

~*~*~

2001

Derek and Hoshi grabbed a pair of swords off the coffee table and shot to their feet. Phlox stood up, taking an immediate defensive position by Dawn. Tara stood rooted to the spot, staring at the hulking creature in the foyer.

"Mine," it repeated.

The demon lunged at Tara. Derek leapt forward, swinging the sword at it. For its size, the demon was nimble. It ducked the blow, lashing out and knocking Derek across the room. He crashed into the coffee table and rolled to the floor.

Dawn spun around and dashed into the kitchen. Hoshi looked from the demon to her sword and back again, reconsidering her idea. It ignored her, lunging at Tara again. Hoshi rushed up behind and ran her sword through its back. It yelled, a horrifying sound, and spun around. Hoshi ducked its clawed arm, letting go of the sword. She rolled away, coming back up to her feet near the sofa.

Tara ran across the room to the weapons trunk. She came up with a crossbow and locked a bolt into place. Tara aimed at its head and fired. The bolt flew straight, finding its mark just above the demon's left eye. It roared again, a claw grasping for the bolt.

Dawn ran back into the living room with a pitcher of ice water. She tossed it at the creature with a loud, "Drink this!"

The demon bellowed in pain as the water splashed across its chest and right arm. The skin smoked and faded to a dark gray. It seemed to solidify into living stone.

Dawn grabbed Tara's hand and pulled her into the kitchen. The others followed her through the kitchen and out of the back door into the yard. Dawn led them through the hedge into her neighbor's backyard, not releasing her vice grip on Tara's wrist. They went through several more backyards until they reached the street at the end of the block. Dawn finally stopped, allowing their time-traveling friends to catch up. And catch their breaths.

"Now where to?" Hoshi asked.

It was quickly getting dark. Neither Dawn nor Tara relished the idea of being out after dark without Buffy around. And dark, evil things always seemed to know when the Slayer wasn't in town.

"I need to see that picture," Tara said, panting softly. "And maybe research some sort of spell to keep the demon from tracking us."

"You're going back to the Magic Box?" Dawn asked.

"Dawnie, I have to," Tara said. "But I'll need some time."

"A diversion," Derek said.

"Yes," Tara replied. "It's wounded, but it won't stay stopped."

"I think I have an idea of how to kill it," Hoshi said. "I'll need Dawn to help me, if Derek and Phlox can lead it away from us for now. Half an hour back at the magic store. Is that enough time for you, Tara?"

"That's fine," Tara said.

There was a short pause as each one looked to the other in silent confirmation.

"Where should we lead it?" Phlox asked.

An unearthly roar shattered the quiet twilight.

"Away from here," Tara said. "Just don't get lost."

"With my amazing sense of direction?" Derek joked. "Not a problem."

"Okay then," Hoshi said.

A rustle in the bushes nearby startled them all.

"Run!" Dawn shouted.

~*~*~

2152

Spike had his vamp pinned down when he heard the weapon discharge. It was a soft hissing sound, like a soda can popping open. He turned his head to see Buffy turn, taking the brunt of the shot in her left shoulder. She hit the deck with a soft cry. Spike growled and launched himself at the offending vampire, breaking its neck in one furious twist before they hit the ground. It dusted and Spike landed on the deck.

Two other vamps picked themselves up off the deck. They circled Spike, growling as only young and hungry vampires could. Spike plucked a stake from his coat pocket and twirled it between his fingers like a baton. The short vamp lunged at Spike's waist. Spike let it catch him, then drove the stake into its back. The other vampire leapt through that one's ash cloud, its hands reaching for Spike's throat. Spike blocked it easily and sent it crashing into the last remaining vamp as it tried to get up.

Utilizing their confusion, Spike staked one. The other began backing away quickly. Spike marched over to it and slammed his foot down hard on its chest. "Did he go to Enterprise?" Spike demanded, pressing hard.

It growled at him. But that was the answer he needed. Spike lifted his boot, then brought it down furiously on the vampire's throat, crushing it. It flailed there, unable to move.

Spike skidded over to Buffy, dropping to his knees next to her. She held her left arm close to her chest, clenching her teeth.

"How bad is it?" he asked.

"It's fine," she said. "Go find Captain Archer and Commander Tucker. Now."

Spike nodded. He left his stake with her and took off. He sprinted back through the cargo bay, twisting his way through the maze. He found the steps that led up to the catwalk and the next level of the ship. Spike opened the door that was across from the Engine Room, the last place they had seen the two men. He didn't exactly relish the role of knight in leather duster, but it was important to Buffy.

The Engine Room door was open. Spike immediately heard sounds of a scuffle inside. He bolted across the corridor and stopped just inside. Tucker, bloody and pale, was climbing up the side of a console. The female vampire had Archer pressed against an opposite console, her teeth bared to bite.

Spike dashed over to them and punched her in the side of the head. The she-vamp reeled backwards. Spike advanced before she could regain her balance, knocking her flat with a second punch. He grabbed a wooden spoon off the floor and drove it into her chest. She snarled and dusted.

Someone slammed into Spike from behind, knocking him underneath a gutted station of some sort. He struggled among the wires and computer parts. "Stay down!" Archer yelled.

Spike stopped moving as the lights all around him brightened. He shrunk away, deeper into the shadows of the console and under the folds of his coat as the heat intensified. Even from his semi-protected place, he could feel the intense burn only sunlight could produce.

~*~*~

Lt. Wandrey stood near the captain's chair, tapping her foot nervously on the deck. Travis and Lopez were at their stations, monitoring systems as they flashed on and off. It had become impossible to maintain the helm, although they were lucky not to be floating toward or away from Warden.

They had gotten intermittent reports from various Security teams over the last ten minutes. A few intruders had been spotted on E Deck, one on D Deck. Wandrey wondered about the computer core. They hadn't heard from Sub-Commander T'Pol since she left the bridge.

A loud pounding began from the other side of the turbolift doors, startling everyone on the bridge. Wandrey spun around, her hand seeking a phase pistol that wasn't there. The pounding continued, as if from many hands.

Wandrey bolted to the weapons console, immediately activating emergency security measures. As Lt. Reed's second in command, she knew several levels of protocol, but what she could do was limited. Still, her command code was enough to seal the turbolift shut, secure all maintenance shafts, and lock down the bridge from anyone without clearance from entering.

The pounding continued without cease, increasing in its intensity.

"What do you think it is?" Lopez asked.

"Was that rhetorical?" Travis asked, standing up from the helm. He glanced over at the comm where their prisoner had been secured in the vacant chair. It was still unconscious.

"What do we do, Lieutenant?" Lopez asked, turning to face Wandrey.

"What we've been doing," Wandrey replied. "Hold the bridge until we hear from the Sub-Commander or the Captain."

~*~*~

T'Pol strode down the corridor with O'Connor and Jacobs, less than a five meters from the doors to the computer core. She heard voices from the opposite corridor and paused, signaling the crewmen to stop. Four people immediately turned into their corridor at a run, stopping short when they spotted T'Pol. Lt. Reed, Crewman Monroe and two of the strangers, Mr. Giles and Xander if she remembered correctly.

"Sub-Commander!" Reed shouted, sprinting toward her.

T'Pol hastened her crewmen along and the seven met in front of the computer core doors. A set of double-doors protected by a series of security codes, to prevent tampering. A control pad was set to the right of the door. It had been ripped from the wall, exposing a mess of ripped wires and crossed-circuits.

Crewman Jacobs stepped over to it. The engineer began to pull the wires apart and sort through the mess. "What a hack job," he muttered.

"Looks like they're already inside," Reed said. "We just killed several in Engineering."

"It appears they are trying to gain control of Enterprise," T'Pol said. "One attempted to enter the bridge already."

"Only one?" Mr. Giles asked.

T'Pol turned her steady gaze on him. "Yes," she said.

"That seems odd," he said in a clipped tone. "Sending one or two vampires to attack important areas of your ship—"

"Distraction!" Xander said rather loudly, pointing one finger in the air.

T'Pol looked at the young man, aware she had just had the same thought. "They are trying to keep the crew off-balance," she said. "No one else has been killed, only injured or scared. They want us alive, but to what end?"

"To turn you," Mr. Giles said immediately.

"From the core they can control life support," Reed said. "These things were once human, they know how ships run. If they cut off oxygen or lower the pressure aboard Enterprise, we can't fight back."

"And you wake up with a whole new personality," Xander said. "Complete with a facelift and pointy teeth."

Reed frowned at him. "Do you always talk so much?"

"Absolutely," Xander replied, flushing a light pink. "Shutting up now."

"How's the door coming?" Crewman Monroe asked Jacobs.

Jacobs twisted his head around to reply.

The lights went out, bathing the corridor in total darkness.

~*~*~

2001

Tara thought her heart would pound right out of her chest. As she crept down the alley toward the back of the Magic Box, a series of chills ran down her spine. Not the 'I'm being followed' chills, but the 'oh God, what if I let everyone down?' chills. Her first try at research tonight had ended unsuccessfully. But now she had a better idea of what she was looking for.

The back door was hanging on a hinge. Tara peeked inside, gazing around the training room as she stepped in. She frowned at a small puddle of blood on the floor near one of Buffy's throwing daggers. Had she hurt herself during a training session?

She stood still, straining her ears to listen. Nothing moved inside the shop. Tara walked to the opposite door, which had also been smashed through. She cringed. The Magic Box was a mess. The display cabinet near the register was smashed. Tables were overturned, books scattered and ripped.

"I hope I'm not here when Anya sees this," Tara muttered.

Tara picked her way over to the back table, heaving a relieved sigh when she saw Willow's laptop there, whole and untouched. Tara turned a chair right-side up and sat down, opening up the laptop and logging on to the Internet. Her eyes darted around the shop as it dialed and connected.

She took the Warden out of her pocket. It was oddly warm, the stone in the center seemingly glowing with a vague light. Tara held it closer to her eyes. She could almost feel the warmth emanate from it and brush against her cheeks.

The laptop beeped. Tara placed the amulet on the table and signed in to Willow's email address. She grinned when she spotted the message she's sent Willow just this morning. Then she blushed when she remembered its contents. The next message was from Wesley. Tara opened it and dowloaded the attachment.

Less than fifteen seconds later, a scanned photograph began to appear on the screen. It was fuzzy, but definitely a man. Then the pixels focused. Tara gasped. The name on the bottom of the photograph was Liam James, and it was taken in 1855. The man in the photo stood with a woman who held an infant in her arms.

But Tara was drawn to the man's face. The chiseled jaw and sharp chin. A familiar face, unable to hide beneath dark hair and dated clothing. She looked at the date, then at the infant. Tara reached out to touch the screen. Could that really be Spike—or William—as a baby? It was hard to think of Spike ever being human. Was Liam James his father?

"Power in blood, knowledge in power, wield both," Tara murmured, before she realized she was speaking. "The line of Arantaf. Spike is a descendant."

Tara glanced down at the amulet. The Warden had brought Hoshi, Derek and Dr. Phlox to 2001. Could it take them back to 2152? And bring the others home?

"Blood," she said, looking at the stone that seemed alive. Alive in the shop. But why? Because of the magic all around it? Or was it something else?

Almost without thinking, Tara picked up the Warden and stood up. She found herself walking toward the training room, stepping through the open door. The warm metal began to heat up as she walked, the stone to glow noticeably. The swirled colors began to move. Tara stopped walking and looked down.

The bloody dagger was at her feet.

Was it possible?

~*~*~

Dawn didn't know her way around the University of Sunnydale very well, but she was able to help Hoshi find the Science Building. She hadn't asked what the older woman had in mind, simply lead her to the school. Students milled around the campus, unafraid of the impending darkness. Dawn didn't fear the dark, but she knew enough to be alert when something bumped in the night.

"So what are we here for exactly?" Dawn asked.

Hoshi opened the door of the Science Building, letting Dawn go in before she followed. "Liquid nitrogen," she replied softly.

A pair of students passed them going the other way, tossing Hoshi curious glances. Dawn looked over, realizing Hoshi still wore her blood-splattered uniform. Definitely out of place around here. But they didn't have time to worry about that now.

"Liquid nitrogen," Dawn repeated. Her eyes lit up as she remembered a scene from a very stupid film she'd watched with Buffy. Charlie Sheen blasting Saddam Hussein with nitrogen, then shattering him into a thousand pieces.

"Right," Hoshi said. "We freeze him, break him, and bury the pieces in a cold place. Preferably several cold places."

"I'm all about that plan," Dawn said. "But how do we steal a can of nitrogen from the university?"

"Very carefully," Hoshi replied with a cheerful wink. But behind the smile, Dawn could see her uncertainly. It made her feel better, that she wasn't the only one who was scared.

~*~*~

2152

The sudden burst of injured men and women had actually stopped momentarily. Yen was doing his best to hand out bandages and assess wounds. Willow had found a few minutes to steal back to the computer. She had a hunch about the fate of this timeline's Warden, and she needed the computer to find out.

She looked up the name Angelus and the year he was turned. A quick search showed he had, indeed, died when he was supposed to. Her second search also proved that Drusilla had died after her family was murdered and she was driven insane. Willow was amazed by the wealth of historical information contained in these computers. As if the entire history of the world was at her fingertips.

So why hadn't William been turned in this world. If only she had the Watcher's Diaries of this universe, maybe she could find out if Angelus, Darla and Drusilla still existed somewhere or had been killed. But nothing like that was available here.

Willow began wondering about her own world's Angel, Dru and Spike. Why had they picked William? Of all the people in all the world, Drusilla just happened to choose a descendant of Arantaf as her playmate? Maybe it wasn't a coincidence after all. The Warden in Willow's world had disappeared around the same time William died. She didn't believe Spike had hidden the amulet away. He'd known the legend in a very general way, as most older vampires probably did. He hadn't seemed to know anything intimate about its origin, or even his own connection to its power.

But what if Angel or Darla had known? What if they had tracked down the keepers of the Warden and decided to prevent its use in their destruction by turning its inheritor into one of them. And hiding the amulet away from him before he truly learned of its power.

The more Willow considered this theory, the more likely it sounded. But wouldn't Angel have said something once he got his soul back? At least said something to Buffy.

"Not if he didn't know," she muttered. It sure sounded like something Darla would have planned. And something she wouldn't have shared, not even with Angelus.

Willow spun around in her seat, wanting to share her thoughts with someone, even if Anya was the only person who would have a clue. She stood up.

The lights went out in Sickbay. Anya shouted loudly. Other people muttered in surprise. Willow took a careful step forward, out of the alcove she was in. In the main room, something had begun to glow on a counter. A slatted box was emitting a very faint blue light, similar to bio-luminescence. The box squawked.

Willow recited a few words and lifted her hands. An orange ball of energy began to glow just above her open palms. She smiled, feeling the energy she had created as it grew to brighten the entire room.

"All systems appear to be down," a crewman said, banging her hand on a computer terminal. "Except for the gravity plating, at least."

"Small favors," Crewman Yen muttered.

~*~*~

The UV console sparked and sputtered, its patchwork connections frying under the onslaught of power. Archer could barely see in the intense light. The console shrieked and the lights dimmed again in a shower of sparks. Large circles dotted Archer's vision, and his skin felt slightly sunburned. Something else was burning. Spike twitched behind Archer.

"What in bloody blue hell was that?" Spike asked, coming out from under his coat.

"UV radiation," Archer said. "Fail safe weapon against vampires."

"I'm glad someone told me about it," Spike groused.

Archer moved away, allowing Spike to crawl out. He ignored the comment, his attention traveling to the smoking console across the room. Trip lay crumpled next to it, unconscious and deathly pale. Archer scooted across the room to his friend. Trip's mouth was streaked with bright red blood and his uniform was soaked with it. His breathing was shallow, ragged.

"Trip?" Archer asked, leaning in close to Trip's ear. "You hang in there, Commander. That's an order."

He didn't expect a response and did not receive one. Archer's stomach quaked with fear. They had to get him back to Sickbay. Archer turned to ask for help and realized only Spike was in the room.

"Where's Buffy?" Archer asked.

"Right here," she replied, stepping into the Engine Room. She cradled her left arm to her chest, a small piece of her blouse scorched. Buffy paused. "God, is he okay?" she asked.

"No," Archer replied sharply. "We need to get him to Enterprise right now or he's going to die. This is a cargo ship, there has to be a cargo transporter somewhere."

"You mean a little round platform," Buffy said, motioning the shape with her good arm. "Someone stands on it and they disappear."

"Yes," Archer said. "Wait, who stood on it and disappeared?"

"The leader," Buffy said.

"Dane," Spike added.

"He went over to Enterprise," Archer said.

"Yeah," Spike said. "And he's not alone. Planning on turning your people into the space ship of the living dead. And soon, too."

"Help me with Trip," Archer said. "We need to get to that transporter."

~*~*~

2001

Phlox pressed his back to the brick wall of the building he had just passed behind. Derek Harris joined him momentarily. They stood together, breathing deeply from haste and fear. The Demon had followed them away from the Summers home and across town. Now they were simply running to save their lives, not sure how long they had to keep it distracted.

"Ready to run again?" Derek asked.

"I suppose," Phlox said. "This sort of exercise is excellent for the cardiovascular system of humans. But not so good for Denobulans. We are not build to run for long periods of time."

"It will be over soon, Doctor." Derek realized how that sounded and added, "For the demon. Not for us."

Phlox chuckled. "I suppose we should make sure it is still following us."

Derek nodded. He poked his head back around the corner of the building, staring down the street. It seemed vaguely familiar. But the Dalzell Demon was nowhere to be seen. The sun had almost set, but it was still fairly warm out. Surely it hadn't hidden away already.

Then Derek spotted a sign at the far end of the block. The Magic Box.

"We have to go," he said. Not caring that Denobulans didn't like to be touched, he grabbed Phlox's forearm and pulled him along.

~*~*~

Tara knelt by the blood and dagger, feeling the immense power emanating from the Warden she held in her hand. The colors in the stone had begun to swirl so fast they no longer appeared to be moving. Swallowing her ew-gross reflex, Tara reached out and dipped the forefinger of her right hand in the drying blood. The moment the blood touched her skin, the amulet blazed with intense heat.

She almost dropped the Warden, but forced herself to hold onto it. Tara concentrated on the power and heat, channeling it into herself and away from her skin. It was amazing, a feeling of absolute freedom and power.

Tara looked up, sensing a terrible presence very close to her. She smeared a bit of blood on the stone, then placed the amulet's chain around her neck. Tara walked to the wall and picked up a large ax. As soon as she turned back toward the door, its empty frame was filled with the hulking mass of the Dalzell Demon. The sword and arrow were still imbedded in its body.

"Mine," it rasped.

"Not anymore," Tara said. She felt the power from the amulet spill into the handle of the ax and travel to its iron head. It glowed faintly with a dark light. "Catch," she said, throwing the ax at the demon with an unnatural burst of strength.

~*~*~

2152

Giles felt Xander's arm clutch his the moment the lights went out. People all around them fumbled, searching for a light source of some sort. Giles stood rooted to the floor, suddenly very sure he didn't want the lights to come back on at all.

"Does anyone have their flashlight?" Reed asked, his voice still very nearby.

"The emergency power generators should have responded by now," T'Pol said. From the direction of her voice, she had moved closer the computer core doors.

Giles heard a soft, mechanical swish, followed by many footsteps all at once. "Dear Lord," he muttered, certain they were about to be attacked. A chill danced up his spine.

Power hummed in the walls and strip lights along the tops and bottoms of the corridors glowed a soft orange. In the dim light, several of the crewmen around them gasped. At least twenty-five vampires surrounded the small group, all in game face.

Reed and T'Pol lifted their stakes defensively, Reed also aiming a phase pistol at the intruders. One vampire, a bit older than the rest and also fairly scruffy, stepped forward. His name tag said Dane.

"I wouldn't fire that thing," Dane said in a clipped, but distinctly British tone. "Not unless you can hit all of us at once. And I don't think you're that good."

"Who are you?" Reed asked.

"In a short while, your new Captain," Dane said with a sneer.

"Not bloody likely," Reed retorted.

Dane tsked. "Every ship needs a captain, doesn't it? And your own Captain should be dead by now. Or at least waiting to awaken to his new life as one of us."

Giles saw Reed tense, struggling to keep his composure. He immediately wondered about Buffy, praying that she wasn't dead.

"What do you want?" Giles asked. Not that he particularly cared, but motivation was always a good way to uncover an opponent's weaknesses.

"I want what belongs to me," Dane said. "The Warden is on this ship and I want it back."

Giles thought of Willow, sure the young Wiccan could stave off a small attack should one come. But now he had to think about their current plight. And how to get out of it.

"The amulet belonged to Captain James," T'Pol said. "He is dead. Any claim to the amulet falls to his direct descendant."

"I'm afraid the Captain's son isn't available," Dane said. "But we'll be on our way to pick up the kid in a bit, so I'll see that he gets it."

"You know it won't be that easy for you," Giles said.

Dane looked at his mass of vampires, then at the six humans and one Vulcan in front of him. "Why fight it," he asked. "The end is always the same."

"You were human once," Giles said. "You know why."

"I suppose I do," Dane said. "But it doesn't change what's going to happen, now does it? The good and faithful vampire hunter is dead. I'm here now. And I'm a bit hungry."

~*~*~

As the group neared the end of the cargo bay, Archer found himself increasingly impressed by Buffy's strength. She had taken Trip under his arms, lifting him up like a small child. He decided then and there that nothing this group did should surprise him. Spike had taken Trip's feet, and Archer supported his weight in the middle, keeping his hand clamped firmly over the still-oozing wound.

The wound worried him, as did Trip's increasing difficulty breathing. Archer was afraid a lung had been punctured, or worse, had collapsed already. And Trip's continued unconsciousness had Archer fearing his friend may never wake up.

They reached the door that led into the smaller transport corridor. Five old-model laser rifles lay on the floor, their owners long since vanished. At the far end of the corridor, Archer spotted the transporter and smiled with relief. At his instruction, they gently laid Trip on the pad.

Archer walked over to the controls. It was fairly simplistic. And the sensors were working to an extent. Dane's destination had been inside the computer core. Archer frowned and did a quick scan of Enterprise. Power was off on every deck except E Deck. Engineering and the core.

"I'm going to transport Trip straight to Sickbay," Archer said, adjusting the coordinates. "Then we'll go over, right into what I'd guess to be a nice big group of vampires."

"We're getting on that thing?" Buffy asked. "Like, disappearing and being put back together on your ship? I've seen Willy Wonka, am I going to be miniature when I reappear?"

Archer stared at her, then decided to ignore what had to be slang terms. "You'll be fine. Transporters are perfectly safe"—for cargo, but he didn't add that out loud—"I've been through one before and I'm still life size."

He checked the coordinates one more time, then glanced over at Trip. Archer looked down and slid the knobs up. A shimmering blue light enveloped Trip, covering him and taking him from them. Archer immediately changed the coordinates for their transport over.

"When we materialize," Archer said, "we'll be in a room that's five meters by seven meters—"

"Sorry, Captain," Buffy said. "But I still think in feet."

"Fifteen by twenty feet, give or take," Archer amended. "A large cylinder from floor to ceiling in the center of the room, computer terminals on stations all around the perimeter of the room. One set of doors in and out, I don't know if they will be open or who will be inside when we get there."

Archer clenched a stake in his hand. Buffy brought one out, checking its point with her fingertip. Archer looked behind her. Spike was walking toward them from the rear with three rifles in his hands.

As Spike handed out the weapons, he said, "Never can be too careful."

Archer watched him carefully for a moment, wondering what he was thinking. Spike was about to kill a crew that was kin, vampires or not. Maybe this wasn't his reality, but blood was blood. Archer wasn't sure he'd have the guts to do what Spike was about to do.

"Let's do this," Buffy said. She stepped up onto the transporter pad. Spike gave it a disapproving glare, then stepped up next to her.

Archer set the controls to a ten second delay, hoping this worked. He was still leery about the transporter, but it had worked for him before. Of course, that hadn't been an outdated cargo ship transporter, either. He pressed a button and climbed up onto the platform next to Spike and Buffy.

"See you on the other side," Buffy said.

The world dissolved into blue light.

~*~*~

Flashlights had been located and distributed to various people in Sickbay. With the additional light, Willow discontinued her fireball. Several crewmen still shot her curious glances, but most were worried about being stuck inside. With power down, the doors to Sickbay would not slide open. Nor would much of their medical equipment function.

Anya stood off to one side, clutching a flashlight and staring down at Crewman Whitford, who slept on one of the bio-beds. He had been brought in with a concussion and was stable, but Anya liked looking at him. He looked like Xander. A little bit. And she really wanted Xander right now. She needed someone to hold her and tell her they would all be home again soon.

Not that she was getting that from an unconscious man she'd never met. Still, he had a handsome face and dark hair like Xander. He would have to do.

Willow was across the room, staring at a dark computer screen. Anya considered yelling at her that staring wouldn't make it come back on, but decided against it. It was something Xander would chide her for doing, so she just wouldn't do it. Even if Xander wasn't here to say anything. Still, she shouldn't.

Anya played the mental merry-go-round for several moments. She had almost made up her mind to say something to Willow when a fuzzy blue light appeared in the center of the Sickbay floor. Other crewmen noticed it too and froze, pointing. The blue light took the shape of a man, then actually became a man. Anya knew that face and she was distressed to see he was injured.

"Commander Tucker," Crewman Yen said, dashing over. He inspected the injuries. "I need a medkit over here now!"

A female crewman—hadn't she introduced herself as Cutler?—brought a silver briefcase over to Yen and opened it. Together they began to treat Commander Tucker, neither entirely confident in their abilities.

Anya stared at the kit. So that's where the bandages were.

~*~*~

2001

The battle ax sailed toward its mark, end over end, until it buried itself in the demon's head. The creature howled, its patch of stony skin rippling as its pinchers clawed at the ax, desperate to remove the offending item. Tara stood calmly, secure in the power of the Warden while the demon yanked the ax from its head, revealing a long gash oozing black goo. It ignored its wound, still intent of relieving Tara of its prize.

"Stop!" Tara said, holding up her hand. She felt a warm force emit from her hand, like a soft wind. The demon stopped its forward approach, standing frozen but still grunting its terrible growl.

"Mine," it rasped. "Need it."

"It's not yours," Tara said firmly.

"Mine!" the demon roared. It raged against the invisible hand holding it still. The shop floor was quickly scored with marks from its clawed feet as it continued to seek purchase on the floor.

"Calm down!" Tara shouted. Once again, that same warmth of power stretched from the Warden, out through herself.

The Dalzell Demon stopped moving, and it sat down on the floor. While its body obeyed Tara's demands, its dark eyes glowed with anger and pain. Tara shivered and realized the temperature had dropped considerably, helped along by the Magic Box's air conditioning. The demon was cold and uncomfortable.

"Where did you come from?" Tara asked.

"Brazil," it replied. "I felt power, but power is gone. Now I feel amulet. I need it. It is mine."

Tara had no trouble following its simple speech patterns. "Why do you want the amulet?" she asked.

"Need it," it said. "To stay warm. Need amulet to stay warm. Always warm."

The power from the Warden was what it wanted. It thought that it could control the Warden's power and stay warm. Tara could feel the heat of the amulet herself, but that was only because of Spike's blood. It wouldn't work without the blood, would it? She almost felt sorry for the creature. Like any animal, it acted on instinct. And instinct told it that it needed the Warden.

But Tara could also feel the demon, feel its own energy through the Warden. And she knew its heart was black, if it even had a heart. It would not hesitate to kill her once it had possession of the Warden, or to kill anyone who tried to take the amulet from it.

**I wish I knew where Giles was** she thought. **He'd know what to do**

Footsteps made Tara look up at the front door. Phlox and Derek ran inside, huffing and puffing. They stopped short when they saw the demon sitting in front of Tara.

"Tara!"

Dawn's voice behind her. She must have come in the back. Tara turned around to look and felt her concentration failing. The invisible hand keeping the Dalzell Demon down faded. It lunged at her and Tara knew they had to get away. To go anywhere but here.

The world suddenly erupted in blinding white light.

~*~*~

2152

T'Pol watched the confrontation between Dane and Giles, an interesting match of verbal barbs. It was as if Dane was playing with him, wasting time. That made T'Pol distrustful of Dane's motivations. She calculated the odds of their survival should the vampire horde attack.

Not good odds at all.

"You know," Dane said. "Slayers went out of fashion around here a long time ago. With the Warden around, the Watcher's Council had nothing to watch. Disbanded around the turn of the twenty-first century, I believe."

"How very uninteresting," Giles said. Although T'Pol suspected he did find it interesting.

"Maybe I won't let her drift in her tomb," Dane said with a sadistic grin. "Perhaps I'll keep her in a cage, a lovely show and tell item to keep the kiddies in line. Don't listen to Dane and the Slayer will get you."

T'Pol watched color rise high on Giles's cheekbones. She was amazed at his level of emotional control. She only wished some of her Enterprise crewmates could exhibit the same level of control he did.

"You can't cage her," Giles said. "You can't kill her. Better demons have tried and failed."

Before T'Pol could wonder about the subtext of that statement, something caught her eye. The door to the computer core was still open, although it didn't seem anyone was inside. She saw a shimmer of blue light within the core. T'Pol felt the unfamiliar urge to smile.

"I see," Dane said. "I bet she would make a lovely vampire."

A small, lithe body twisted through the air and landed in front of Dane. Buffy lashed out and punched him square in the nose. Dane fell backward with loud shout.

"Been there, done that," Buffy said.

~*~*~

"…done that."

Spike waited for the little quip, then leapt into the doorway of the core with game face on, firing his weapon at the vampires closest to him. Archer did the same, firing in the opposite direction. Spike aimed for faces and throats, watching as several vamps fell with their faces burned unrecognizable. Whatever this gun was firing, it was damned powerful.

The group of the living also sprang into action, using stakes and homemade weapons to fight the sudden onslaught of vampire attack. One fellow used some sort of pen laser to sever the head of a vamp, turning it to immediate dust. Nearby, Buffy continued her tussle with Dane. He was no match for her.

Something tackled him from behind, sending Spike crashing to the deck. He hit and rolled, turning and lashing out at the attacking vamp with the butt of the rifle. It fell backward, smashing into another approaching vamp. Spike grabbed a stake someone had dropped on the ground and dusted them both with little effort. They were young vampires, hungry but not well trained in the art of killing. An art that Spike was intimately familiar with.

He spun around, seeking his next kill. Spike watched the pointy-eared woman stake a vamp with little effort. She stood side by side with Archer, who fought like a man possessed by rage.

At the same moment, Xander was slammed up against a wall. The attacker wrapped bony hands around Xander's throat, lifting him up and exposing his artery. Spike snorted, then charged across the corridor, knocking a vamp away from one of the Enterprise crewmen as he went. He staked the vampire through the back. Xander fell to the ground as it melted into ash. Spike didn't wait around. Instead, he leapt back into the fray.

Spike staked two more vampires before he spotted Buffy and Dane. She landed a hard right that snapped his head back, then kicked him hard in the chest. Dane fell back against the wall, blood pouring from his broken nose. As if sensing Spike watching, Dane looked up at him. Very slowly, almost seductively, Dane licked the blood on his lips. James blood. Spike's blood.

Buffy used the distraction, planting her stake directly into Dane's heart. Dane's eyes never left Spike's until they were ashes like the rest of his body. Buffy turned toward Spike, then nodded slowly.

With their leader gone, the remaining vampires should have begun to back off. However, the thirteen that remained redoubled their efforts to kill and turn. Spike had the odd thought that in another life, one of these vampires could have been his great-great-great-great-grandson. But thoughts like that made his head hurt.

Spike felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle, an odd sensation. Then a blinding light filled the room. "Bloody hell!" he yelled. If it was more UV radiation, he had nowhere to hide this time.

~*~*~

Buffy almost felt sorry for Dane when she killed him. Almost, but not really. For someone who had once dedicated his life to destroying vampires, to become the very demon he once hunted was a very tragic ending. She couldn't read the expression on Spike's face when she looked at him, as if he wasn't sure what he felt either.

She stood up and snapped the neck of a vamp trying to bite into a crewman's neck. Buffy reached for the next one before the puff of ash had settled. She saw Giles knock a vamp on its ass. He must have been one hell of a scrapper in his Ripper days.

A flash of ultra-white light forced Buffy's eyes closed. She wasn't sure if it was the light that had sent them here or the light that had dusted the injured vamp back on Warden. The light disappeared almost instantly. Buffy blinked dancing spots from her vision, realizing that she was still on Enterprise. And so were the vampires. Everyone stood still, trying to figure out what had just happened. Spike patted himself down, as if to affirm he had not been turned to ash.

"Buffy!"

Buffy spun toward the computer core doors. Dawn and Tara stood there with a young Japanese woman and a man in Starfleet uniforms, and a demon in a funny tunic. The female officer held some sort of compressed can with a nozzle and hose.

"Dawn!" Buffy yelled. Something dark moved behind them. "Look out!"

The quintet immediately broke apart, diving in different directions. The Dalzell Demon charged out of the core and right toward Buffy with a wild roar of outrage. Buffy jumped, landing a high kick to its wounded face. The creature stepped back. Buffy readied herself for another attack, aware that the vampires had backed off from the demon.

"Hey, Tarface!" Dawn yelled from behind it.

The demon turned. Buffy was about to attack it from behind when Tara tackled her to the ground. They rolled away and Dawn opened the pressure on the can they had. A white gas shot from the nozzle and coated the demon. It roared in agony, its horrible cry magnified by the close quarters of the corridor. A sound like Rice Krispies filled Buffy's ears. She looked up at the demon. It was smoking, its oily skin hardening into gray rock.

"My God," a crewman muttered.

"What the hell is that?" Archer asked.

"A demon," Giles replied.

The creature's awful howls cut off suddenly. Dawn stopped spraying. When the cloud of smoke and spray cleared, all that was left of the Dalzell Demon was a gray stone statue.

"Intriguing," T'Pol said softly.

Buffy squirmed and Tara moved aside. They helped each other up. Buffy found herself being hugged tightly by her sister. She hugged Dawn back, so glad to see her again and know she was safe. "Dawnie," Buffy whispered in her sister's hair.

"Um, Buffy?" Tara asked. "Where are we?"

"On Enterprise," the Japanese officer said. She walked over to Archer, looking around. "Captain, it's good to be home. But weren't there more of you a second ago."

Buffy disengaged from Dawn and scanned the corridor. The vampire crew had disappeared during the ruckus.

"Buffy," Archer said. She turned to look at him. "Can you find them?"

"Yes," she said firmly.

He nodded, then strode over to the demon-man in the funny tunic. "Dr. Phlox, I need you in Sickbay right now," he said with clear urgency in his voice. "Commander Tucker was severely injured."

"Of course," Dr. Phlox replied.

The two turned and began jogging down the corridor.

"Captain?" T'Pol said.

Archer didn't stop, only shouted over his shoulder, "Listen to Buffy, T'Pol!" They were gone.

Eleven pairs of eyes were suddenly fixed on Buffy, including those of Giles, Xander and Spike. Dawn stood close to her side. Buffy felt like she had just been dropped into a play and didn't know her lines or the plot. Then instinct kicked in.

"First," she said, pointing at the demon statue, "destroy that thing. We don’t want it to pop back to life again."

Spike picked up an abandoned rifle and fired, startling Buffy. The stone crumbled into a fine powder, mixed with larger chunks of rock. Spike blew on the muzzle and slung the weapon over his shoulder. "What's next?" he asked.

"I just want to know how we got back," Hoshi said. "I mean, we had just walked back into your magic shop and pow! Back on Enterprise. Not that I'm complaining, but I don't think Dawn and Tara wanted to make this trip with us."

"It was the Warden," Tara said. She pulled the amulet out from under her blouse and removed it from around her neck. "Spike's blood was on the floor of the training room. I used it to keep the demon from attacking. Then I lost my concentration and just wanted to get away from there. I guess it brought us here because I was thinking about you guys. And, um, where is Willow?"

"She's safe," Giles said. "With Anya in another part of the ship."

"We're really on a space ship?" Dawn asked.

"Yep," Buffy said. "In outer space and everything. Pretty cool, huh?"

"I believe," T'Pol said, stepping toward Buffy, "that we still have a problem on board our ship. Thirteen rogue vampires, perhaps more."

"We'll have to split up," Buffy said. "It's the best way of tracking them."

"What about that UV trick?" Spike said, tearing his eyes away from the amulet in Tara's hand. "Back on the other ship that nearly fried me to a cinder. Your captain said something about a fail safe weapon and UV radiation."

T'Pol regarded him curiously. "Sun's rays are recorded in legend as one method of killing a vampire."

"Not just in legend," Giles said. "In fact in our world, and I'm sure in fact here, as well."

"I believe it is possible to modify our internal lighting systems to emit a form of UV radiation," T'Pol said. "Enough to destroy the remainder of this…infestation."

Buffy could swear she heard sarcasm in the stoic woman's voice. "We'd have to keep Spike away from it," she said.

"That will protect me," Spike said softly. His hand reached out for the Warden.

Tara clutched it, but didn't pull it away. Buffy could see her hesitancy to hand it over to Spike, given its proven power around those with the blood of Arantaf in their veins. It was like throwing gasoline on an open flame, given Spike's past. Buffy nodded at Tara, who slowly unclenched her fist.

Spike gently took the amulet from her hand. He studied the stone. Buffy watched him very closely, tense and ready to strike should he try anything. Whatever he'd done to help her in the past, he was still a vampire with a chip in his head reining him in. What if he used the amulet to remove the chip?

"Perhaps we should split into teams," T'Pol suggested. "It is likely this small group will attempt to leave Enterprise. We should concentrate on the Launch Bay and the transporters."

"Agreed," Buffy said. "I have no idea where those places are—"

"They'll come back," Spike said suddenly. He looked at her, his normally cold eyes unusually bright. "They'll feel its power so very close and come back."

"Back here?" Buffy asked.

"Are they going to attack again?" a British officer asked, stepping forward.

Buffy recognized him as the injured man Tucker had brought into Sickbay a few hours ago. Or had it been ten minutes? She wasn't even sure what day it was at this point. His name escaped her for the moment. Red? Meade?

As if in response to his question, they heard sound of footsteps scuffling toward them.

"I guess they had to regroup," Xander said. Then Buffy did a double-take. Not Xander, but the male officer who had come back with Dawn and Tara. He could win a look-alike contest.

The vampire gang entered the corridor at an awkward run. Each one had death in its eyes. With a chorus of hisses, they attacked. The odds were more even this time, thirteen to thirteen. But the majority of the vamps lunged toward Spike and Buffy, ignoring everyone else.

"Buggar this," the Brit said. He raised one of the rifles and fired. He took down two of them with one shot.

Buffy found herself in the center of a circle of five vamps. Several others had encircled Spike. It was an eerie move, as if they knew Spike was their kin and she was a Slayer. Vampiric instinct, perhaps? Reed raised his rifle again and Buffy waved her friends away, waiting for the vampires to make the first move. Buffy twirled a stake between her fingers, as if daring them to attack.

She heard the soft, familiar swish of Spike's leather coat. Buffy felt an awesome heat behind her. The short hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she instinctively braced herself for an attack.

The world around her grew bright once again, the light burning the insides of Buffy's eyelids. Her skin felt hot, like a dozen sunburns on top of each other. It seemed to go on forever. She heard someone cry out nearby, but didn't recognize the sound. The glare ended as abruptly as it had begun.

Buffy opened her eyes experimentally, trying to blink away the afterimages of black and silver shapes. Her skin glowed. Buffy looked all around her. The vampires were gone. Spike stood beside her, the Warden in his left hand and raised up close to his heart. He looked at the amulet in his hand, as if not quite sure if he'd actually caused that or not.

"Did you do that, Spike?" Dawn asked.

"I didn't think it would work," Spike muttered.

The dim emergency lights suddenly brightened as full power was restored. Buffy blinked, watching as half a dozen nearby panels came to life. Everyone appeared a bit red-faced from the flash of light. One of the crewman walked out of the computer core, smiling. T'Pol immediately strode to one of the panels and pressed a button.

"T'Pol to bridge," she said. "What is your status, Lieutenant?"

<"Wandrey here, Sub-Commander. All bridge systems are normal. After that bright flash of light, our prisoner, uh…disappeared.">

"Very good, Lieutenant," T'Pol said. "I will return to the bridge shortly. It seems our intruders have vanished. T'Pol out."

"Is anyone injured?" Hoshi asked.

Buffy looked at the scorch mark on the shoulder of her ripped blouse, just below the long scratch. The wound didn't hurt anymore, but she didn't know if laser weapons left some sort of radioactive residue. It made her a bit nervous, actually.

"We need to talk to Willow," Giles said. "If Tara sent herself here consciously, perhaps we can use the same method to take us all home."

"And home is looking very good right now," Xander said, finding his voice again. "Monsters, demons and all."

"Are they still in Sickbay?" Buffy asked.

"I would assume so," Giles replied.

Buffy turned around. Spike still stared at the amulet in his hand, completely lost in thought. She touched his shoulder very gently. He shook himself out of his thoughts and looked at her. Buffy could have sworn she saw some speck of humanity and the soul he had lost deep within his eyes. But he blinked and it was gone as if never there.

"Let's go," Buffy said.

Spike nodded.

~*~*~

Archer couldn't make Phlox move fast enough. The pair had progressed into a dead run once leaving the turbolift. Archer had tried to briefly explain what had happened in the last few hours before he got to Trip's injury. Phlox listened silently, which made Archer worry. Normally the Denobulan doctor was full of questions and not afraid to ask them.

Phlox's only question was how long since Commander Tucker had been stabbed. Archer could only guess about fifteen minutes. Time had become fairly relative recently.

In the corridor outside Sickbay, they stopped in their tracks when a blinding light filled their vision. Archer pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes, but still saw the light. It seemed to go on and on. Then it stopped. Archer dropped his hands, blinking his eyes back into focus. Phlox snapped his fingers in front of his own face, testing himself. Satisfied they weren't blind, they began running again.

They burst into Sickbay at the same instant full power was restored. Anya was walking across the room at that moment. She saw Phlox and stepped backward, her eyes widening.

"Dr. Phlox!" Crewman Yen shouted.

Archer and Phlox turned toward the sound. Yen stood by one of the bio-beds with two crewmen medics. Trip lay on the bed, his wound dressed. With regular power up, a medic switched on a monitor and a soft beep began. Trip's bio-readings were erratic and dangerously low. Yen waved the pair over.

"What is his blood pressure?" Phlox asked immediately.

"Eighty over sixty-two," Yen replied. "We've tried transfusions, but none of the other equipment was working until just now."

Archer's ears buzzed as a flurry of words and medical terms began. It wasn't that he didn't know what they were saying. Nothing was sinking in at the moment. He heard 'blood' and 'flesh' and 'get.' Random words and snatches of phrases.

All he could think was that Trip's face was too pale. His normally tan skin was an awkward shade of ivory. A thin ring of bright red circled his lips and stained his chin.

"Come on, Trip," Archer whispered.

He stepped around Crewman Yancy to stand by Trip's head. Archer seemed out of the way up there. He gently placed his hand on Trip's right shoulder, hoping to offer some sort of comfort to keep his friend grounded. To keep him there.

Phlox had a medical tool in his hand and Archer looked away. His stomach roiled and he swallowed hard. Archer's eyes wandered to the bed just behind him. And to the next two beds. All three held a sheeted body. The men from the Warden and Jenna Gibson were under those sheets. There was no way Archer was putting another body under a sheet today. Especially not Charles Tucker's body.

Archer looked back down at Trip and froze. Trip's eyes were open. He stared straight up at Archer, his eyes frightened and pleading. Archer felt his heart leap.

"I'm right here, Trip," Archer said. He squeezed Trip's shoulder, as if confirming his presence. "You're going to be fine."

Archer glanced up at Phlox. The doctor was engrossed in his work, but the furrowed brow and tense lines around his mouth made Archer worry even more. Trip's shoulder twitched beneath his hand and Archer looked back down.

Trip blinked, the fear melting away. It was replaced by…peace.

"Trip," Archer said. "No."

The heart monitor's soft beep became a steady squeal.

"He's arresting," Phlox said.

Archer felt frozen, helpless to do anything. Trip's eyes softened, but remained open. The shoulder under Archer's hand relaxed.

"Trip!" Archer shouted.

He felt someone at his elbow and looked up. T'Pol stood next to him, her large brown eyes fixed on Archer's face and her jaw clenched tight. He saw something there he'd never seen before; not in a Vulcan's eyes, anyway. He saw shock. Across Sickbay Archer saw Hoshi and Reed, Buffy and Spike, and everyone else from the core. All of them suddenly there and all of them watching with equal parts fear and equal parts sympathy.

"Stand back, Captain," Yen said, pushing him lightly. "You have to let go."

Archer instinctively released his grip on Trip's shoulder. He and T'Pol stepped backward until the next bio-bed stopped them. Yen and Phlox moved in with a cardiac stimulator while Yancy ripped Trip's uniform open even farther. Archer looked away from the pressure bandaged wound, concentrating on Trip's face. Phlox gently closed Trip's eyelids, then nodded to Yen. Yen placed the arch-shaped device over the bed, adjusting the readings.

"Shocking," Phlox said.

Archer heard a soft 'zzft' sound and Trip's body shuddering slightly. The heart monitor jumped, then continued its steady line.

"Again."

Zzft. Archer bit the inside of his cheeks, reminding himself to stop holding his breath and just breathe. Next to him he felt T'Pol shift her weight, her hand brushing very lightly against Archer's. Archer continued to watch Trip's face, waiting for any sign of life.

"Again."

Zzft. Zzft. Zzft. Zzft.

Sickbay was silent, save the steady 'eeeeeeeee' of the bio-bed monitor as it stayed flatlined. Trip's eyes remained closed.

Seconds passed. A minute.

"I'm so sorry, Captain," Phlox said, his normally cheerful voice eerily desolate and flat. "There is nothing else I can do."

Sickbay swam in a sea of colors and the world seemed to tilt. Archer squeezed his eyes shut, then reopened them. The devastated expression on Phlox's face remained. Just behind him stood Malcolm Reed, his mouth slightly open. Beyond him was Hoshi Sato, her chin trembling. In front of them all Charles Tucker, prone on the bed.

Dead.

Archer opened his mouth, but no words came out. Only a pained croak.

Phlox reached up and turned off the bio-monitor. The 'eeeeee' went silent. Sickbay suddenly seemed very loud in the sudden quiet. Feet scuffling, people breathing, someone sniffling. But no one spoke. Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone else to say something first.

Archer had to lean back against the other bed for support as his knees buckled. T'Pol's hand felt warm on his right shoulder. He tried to remember what he was supposed to do. As captain, the crew was counting on him to lead them. A crew with two people dead. Archer realized whose bio-bed he was leaning on and stood up straight. He unconsciously shrugged off T'Pol's hand and stepped forward. He scanned the faces of the men and women in the room, some Starfleet and some not. His sharp eyes sought out Buffy, another sympathetic face in the crowd.

"Are they all gone?" Archer asked, angry the lack of control over his own voice. It had cracked and lost some of its command.

Buffy nodded. He saw her struggling with something internally, probably responsibility over what had happened. But Archer knew better than that. Too many things could have been done differently for anyone to take responsibility for Trip's death. Except Archer. As Captain of Enterprise, it was his unwritten duty to take that responsibility. It was his job to make sure each member of his crew got back to his or her family safely at the end of the mission.

He'd failed twice in one day. And now his best friend was dead.

Archer remembered the peace he'd seen in Trip's eyes. He hazarded a glance at his friend. The peace was still there, on his face and the slight droop of his mouth. Trip had been at peace when he died and all Archer could hope for was that he was in a peaceful place now.

The thoughts were cold comfort.

Archer cleared his throat and looked at T'Pol. Her expression froze him. Her normally controlled mask was cracking along the edges. T'Pol's chin trembled slightly as her jaw clenched and unclenched. Her eyes shone with a film of tears that she would not allow to spill. Trip had a talent for worming his way into people's lives. Even their Vulcan had been no match for his charm.

It was too much for Archer to take. The stress and fear of the last eight hours fell upon him like an anvil. Forgetting himself and anyone around him, Archer felt his knees give out and he crumpled to the floor.

~*~*~

Most of the time there had simply been darkness. Once in a while his consciousness awoke enough to send a jolt of pain through his ribs or remind him of how hard it had become to breathe. But this had been all after that insanely bright light. Before that was a blur. He was sure of a comforting voice nearby, just out of his range of hearing. He knew he should recognize the voice, but no name came to mind. Nothing at all came to mind.

There had been darkness for a long time after that. At least he had thought it was a long time. It could have been seconds for all he was aware. Time was relative, where darkness and pain alternated.

Then there was no pain, and yet no darkness. He heard voices clearly. One rose out of the din a little louder than the others. Phlox. No one else spoke like he did. Trip was aware of lying flat on his back, his side numb instead of on painful fire. He struggled to open heavy eyelids and was assaulted by the bright lights overhead.

He tried again, terrified of what he would see. Visions of monsters and a vampire crew filled his mind. But when he opened his eyes all he saw was Jonathan Archer. The concerned, commanding face of his old friend.

"I'm right here, Trip," Archer said. His voice sounded muffled, very far away. "You're going to be fine."

Trip felt warm all over, like someone had just covered him with an angora afghan. Archer's face blurred, but Trip wasn't afraid. He tried to smile, but wasn't sure if he was successful. It didn't seem to matter. He was drifting, engulfed in warmth and peace unlike anything he'd ever known. A voice followed him into that cloud of contentment, but Trip couldn't understand the words.

Then nothing. No pain, no voices, no cold. Only a feeling of eternal warmth and comfort. His heart was filled with it and he knew, for the first time in a long time, that he was truly safe.

He was home.

~*~*~

Spike had never felt anything like the power of the Warden being used. When he'd destroyed the other vampires on board with a blast of radiation, he'd half expected it not to work. After all, the legend of Arantaf was centuries old. Who would have believed the amulet actually existed and that Spike was an inheritor of its power?

He barely remembered his family prior to being changed. They had little money. His father had been dead for years by that time and William worked to support his mother and sister. They'd both died in a fire less than a year after William died, leaving no other James to carry on their particular line. But William had never been told about the existence of the Warden. Spike had only learned of it fifty years ago from a peddler he'd eaten in Berlin.

Spike still held the Warden in his hand when he followed Buffy to Sickbay. In truth, he didn't care much where she led him. He was dazzled by the amulet and would have followed blindly if she'd marched him into a patch of sunlight. But he felt sure the Warden would have kept him from harm. He felt secure in its presence. And powerful enough to do anything.

When Tucker was pronounced dead there was a distinct change in the air. For all his command and bluster of earlier, Archer looked like a stiff wind could bowl him over. The ship's crew collectively grieved the loss. The castaways from Sunnydale looked as awkward as Spike felt. Xander and Anya had found each other, Tara and Willow had found each other. Buffy, Dawn and Giles clustered together.

Spike drifted to the edge of the room, moving quietly and quickly. He walked to the other beds where two men lay under sheets. Spike stopped an arm's length away, staring first at one bed, then at the other. Terrence and Liam James—his kin in another lifetime. Yet the blood that had long since stopped flowing in Spike's veins was of the same lineage as the corpses on those tables. Time and timelines didn't change that.

This timeline had very few vampires, and a crew of men and women qualified to deal with the problem. Or there had been a crew. Except for the men here, everyone else was dust. But what of the children? Spike recalled Dane blathering on about finding the children at Port Taus.

"The next generation of intergalactic vampire slayers," Spike muttered.

An odd sound pulled Spike's attention back to Archer. The man had fallen to the floor. Several of his people moved to help him. But nothing they could say would make his friend not dead. Spike had been around death for over a century. The stages never changed. Just their order. Seemed Archer had jumped right into anger.

Poor bastard.

The Warden was warm in his hand. He held it up and stared at the swirling stone curiously. He began to see images in his mind. Spike took a step back, but the images kept coming.

Men, women, children and elderly folks. Faces frozen in screams and frozen in death. Faces killed by a vampire that reveled in the kill and in the mayhem of mass destruction. Spike heard Buffy step up beside him, but Spike stared down at the Warden burning against the flesh of his hand.

In his mind this time Spike saw himself as a young man. A man in an old-fashioned suit with brown hair, working feverishly on a new poem. A man scorned by a beautiful woman at a party. A man who didn't walk home alone that night, but stumbled out with a friend. A man who met a young lady a few weeks later, and who married her. He saw children, a boy and girl. He saw an old man and old woman being buried side-by-side, surrounded by relatives and heirs.

"Spike?" Buffy asked softly.

Spike clenched his fist around the amulet, blocking away the images. Images of a life he could have had. That the William James of this timeline *had* had.

"They're all dead now," Spike said. His mind swirled, but an idea had been planted. Or rather knowledge had been understood.

"What?" Buffy asked.

Spike brushed past Buffy without acknowledging her, and he marched straight across Sickbay. Willow barely saw him coming before Spike reached her. He snatched the other Warden from her and felt the weight of both of them in either hand. Willow uttered a soft cry of surprise.

Spike ignore her, ignored everyone around him. His hands burned with an internal heat, produced by the amulets themselves. It filled him and began to radiate outward. Spike concentrated to keep it all within, keep it until he was ready. His blood burned. He closed his eyes, but could still see the glow of the light he was creating. The power was intense, the greater than any kill or any pleasure he'd ever experienced.

"Make them not dead anymore," Spike said.

An electric charge filled the air. The amulets felt like fire in his hands and a burst of power shot for as if propelled from his very being. Tearing him apart from the inside out.

~*~*~

It had been hard enough knowing one crewman had died. It was quite another watching the captain grieve over the body of someone who obviously meant a great deal to him. Buffy thought of how people had acted toward her when her mother had died. But nothing she could say or do now seemed appropriate. Or enough. And while the vampires had been in this universe no matter what, Buffy still felt responsible. Like they had followed her to Enterprise.

All Buffy wanted to do was to go home. Nothing would make her happier than to see her house, the Magic Box, even the cemetery as long as it was familiar. After Archer's collapse, he had been broken. Buffy turned away, letting the Enterprise crew tend to its captain.

She spotted Spike standing by the bodies of the James men. He stared intently at the amulet he'd taken from Tara, his face twisted into a mask of shock. Buffy walked over.

"Spike?"

No answer. His face changed, from shock to outrage.

"They're all dead now," he said, probably to himself.

"What?" she asked. Someone else was dead?

He didn't move, didn't acknowledge that he'd heard her. Instead he shoved past her and strode across the room. Buffy stood there for a moment, trying to sort out whom he thought was dead. She heard Willow cry out and spun on her heel.

Spike held both Wardens, one in each hand. His eyes were closed and a funny golden glow had begun to engulf him. The Scoobies noticed first and backed away. Golden glows often meant trouble in their world. Spike stood silently for a moment, the glow growing in intensity. Buffy felt a draft of warm air tickle her face. The short hairs on her arms stood up from static electricity.

"Buffy?" Dawn asked.

Buffy turned her head. Archer was staring at Spike, his damp eyes fixed on him with something like…hope?

"Make them not dead anymore," Spike said clearly.

Before Buffy could wonder about it, a blast of golden light filled the room, bathing everything in its aura. Buffy's whole body tingled. The light seemed thick, almost tangible. She felt stronger in its light than she ever had in her life, at the peak of health and agility. It lasted five, maybe seven seconds before a final blast sent Spike flying to the floor. He landed flat on his back. The light disappeared. Spike's left hand was smoking, but Spike didn't notice right away. When he did, he dropped the remains of a shattered amulet. The one in his right hand was still intact.

Buffy started toward him, but a startled gasp from behind made her spin around. Trip Tucker was sitting up on the bio-bed, staring at the captain. He blinked several times, orienting himself and shivering. Archer stared back, his mouth agape in absolute shock. The other crew members near Archer also gaped.

"Cap'n?" Tucker said, his hand straying to his abdomen where the wound had been. The blood remained, but the ragged hole was gone.

"My god," Archer breathed, wrapping his arms around Tucker and hugging him tightly. Tucker seemed a bit surprised at the display, but returned the hug.

Behind them Hoshi yelped. Jenna Gibson had also sat up on her bed, pulling the sheet away from her face. The pair of punctures was gone, her neck completely healed.

A crewman walked over to the other beds and removed the sheets from Terrence and Liam James. Both men lay still, neither breathing.

Spike's coat rustled as he pulled himself to his feet. He stood beside Buffy, staring at the two men.

"It didn't work," he said

Liam James sat straight up on the bed, lashing out at the unfortunate crewman nearest him. "What the bloody hell is going on here?" he bellowed.

Next to him Terrence stirred. "Shut your yap, Liam," he said, sitting up carefully. "You'll scare someone shouting out like that."

Buffy closed her mouth, not sure when her jaw had dropped open. Spike had a similar expression of absolute shock. Both Liam and Terrence looked and sounded like older versions of Spike. From the sharp nose to the jaw line, they were carbon copies; pieces of a lineage too strong to be diluted over time.

Terrence stared at Spike in wonder. "You were the one I sought," Terrence said. "Before that damned demon found me, I had almost located you. I felt you in Sunnydale, young man." He looked at Buffy, almost smiling. "I remember you. You tried to save my life. Did you find the Warden?"

"Yes," Buffy said.

"Do you still have it?" he asked.

"Yes," Spike said. "Well, sort of. One of them."

Buffy swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the four people who had suddenly come back to life. They seemed grateful, happy to be there surrounded by friends. Buffy felt a soft pang of jealousy. None of them had woken up buried in a coffin, so that was a plus. Still, she thought about the many years of life left, and she had to wonder if death would have been more peaceful in the long run.

"Did you know he was a vampire?" Buffy asked. "That you were in the wrong past?"

Terrence and Liam studied Spike. Liam slid off the bio-bed and stood unsteadily on his feet. Spike didn't move. Liam stepped forward, gently touching Spike's wrist. His hand pulled away quickly.

"It's true," Liam said. He turned around to stare at Terrence. "The inheritor of the Warden is a vampire. Now how much irony is there in that, I ask you?"

"Loads," Spike said.

"When I went searching," Terrence said, "I never expected to jump into a different timeline. We needed help. I felt the power of the Warden beckoning me from London. So I went to London. But I realized the past was different. Once I recovered the amulet, it helped me find William in California. Only I didn't reach him in time to explain who he was. It must have been shocking to find out your heritage."

"No kidding," Spike said flatly. "Where was the amulet hidden?"

"A monestary," Terrence replied. "Buried beneath an altar in their chapel. I have no idea how it got there, but was grateful it still existed."

"The crew," Liam said. "What about our crew? Our family?"

Buffy looked up at Spike, who darted his eyes away.

"Captain James?"

The foursome turned. Captain Archer stood at the end of the bio-bed, facing the small group. Phlox was running a scanner over Commander Tucker. Tucker kept twitching his hands, flexing his muscles as if assuring himself he was alive. T'Pol, Reed and Hoshi clustered nearby, also tending to Jenna Gibson. Archer stepped forward.

"Captain James," he said, "I'm Captain Archer. We responded to your distress beacon and found your ship."

"It wasn't my distress beacon, Captain Archer," Liam replied. "I would never have done such a thing as lure another ship closer to ours once the infection began. I am so sorry for your trouble."

Archer held up a placating hand. "It wasn't your fault," he said. "My crew and I are…fine. But I'm afraid your crew is gone. I'm very sorry."

Liam closed his eyes, his hand reaching backwards. Terrence gripped his brother's hand, his eyes crinkling into a mask of grief. They seemed to age many years in only a few seconds.

"The children are safe," Spike said. "One of them, Dane his name was, told me you'd dropped them at a port of some kind. That was his first stop once he was finished with this ship here."

"Port Taus," Liam said, opening his eyes. "Yes, we left our children and grandchildren there. My nephew Dane, he thought it was a hasty move, but I see my caution has left us with hope."

"What is next for us, brother?" Terrence asked.

Liam turned to face him. "We begin again," he said. "We found one nest, it is likely there are more. But they will be eradicated, I promise you that. And we will not make the same mistakes again."

Buffy shot a look at Spike. He was listening, but looking at the amulet at the same time. The stone was still, the swirling colors frozen in place. Its power had probably been spent for the time being. She understood his dilemma. One of the Wardens had shattered beyond repair and beyond power. Now only one remained for two different worlds. Which one would get it?

"Spike," Buffy said softly.

He looked at her with questioning eyes, and she almost saw that same flicker of humanity in them. But Buffy wondered if it weren't her imagination wanting to see it.

"Buffy," Dawn said, walking up to her. "Can we go home now?"

Buffy turned, slipping an arm across her sister's shoulders. She looked at her friends. Anya, Xander, Giles, Willow, Tara—each one's face said the same thing. Time to go. Then she looked back at Spike. He didn't meet her gaze this time, instead keeping his eyes fixed on the Warden. Spike held it up and handed it to Liam. A queer lump rose in Buffy's throat at the gesture. She'd expected him to put up a fight about keeping the amulet. Instead, he let Liam take the necklace from him. Spike glanced down at Buffy, his familiar scowl back in place.

"Yeah," Buffy said, squeezing Dawn's shoulder. "Let's go home."

~*~*~

As much as Archer thought he would miss the exploration possibilities presented by their castaways from the past, he was equally glad to see them go. He knew that his ship might have suffered the same fate as the Warden's crew had Buffy and her friends not shown up. But he couldn't help wanting life to return to normal.

He was grateful to Spike, more grateful than could be expressed in words. Spike had brought four people back to life, something Archer had never thought possible. His crew was still intact. And the Warden was being prepped and restocked for Liam's trip to Port Taus to collect their grandchildren, a task overseen by T'Pol and Ensign Mayweather.

Archer, Trip, Phlox, Reed, Hoshi and Derek Harris had gathered with the time travelers in the Mess Hall. Liam and Terrence James had joined them, ready to send them home. Only Willow seemed hesitant to leave, and Archer chalked that up to her intense interest in their computer. She had spent hours searching its vast stores of information. But at Archer's request, T'Pol had blocked her from accessing anything to do with Sunnydale and the alternate lives of Buffy and her friends. She had also blocked information on Ensign Harris, as his uncanny resemblance to Xander and the common surname roused several people's interest. But some information was best left unread.

Hoshi hugged Dawn and Tara, wishing them both well. Tara made a comment about Hoshi's ability with a sword. Archer made a mental note to ask about that later. The two girls also said good-bye to Phlox and Derek.

Archer shook Giles and Xander's hands, then received an impulsive hug from Anya before she latched back onto Xander. Willow thanked him profusely for the use of their computer.

Lastly, Buffy and Spike walked over together.

"Thank you for your help," Archer said. "A lot of things may have occurred to me, but I doubt vampires would have been one of them."

"It's better when you don't know what goes bump in the night," Buffy said. "But some of us just don't get that choice."

He realized then how much she must have had to grow up in the last few years. Buffy was an old soul trapped in such a young body, with secrets and fears hidden deep inside her. Archer could only imagine how her life had been up to this point and the dangers she had faced. And all he felt was respect.

"Good luck," Archer said.

Buffy smiled, then looked at Trip. The engineer had been quiet in the few hours since his death and resurrection. It had Archer worried to a small point, but he couldn't begin to imagine what Trip was thinking. Trip smiled back at Buffy.

"You're a helluva fighter," Trip said.

"You got pretty handy with a stake yourself," Buffy replied.

She smiled with sad eyes, then reached out and hugged him. Trip returned the embrace, hugging her tightly. Buffy whispered something in his ear, to which Trip only nodded. She let him go and stepped back.

Archer offered his hand to Spike, who seemed genuinely shocked by the gesture. Spike stared for a moment, then shook it lightly. Archer didn't know much about Spike's history as a vampire, but at this moment Archer trusted him. Each time Archer had tried to thank Spike, he'd turned away. Instead of risking that again, Archer just nodded. Spike nodded back, then slipped his hand away.

"It's been a hell of a trip," Archer said, looking at them all.

"Good luck, Captain Archer," Buffy said.

Liam and Terrence stepped forward. Liam waved the time travelers into a small cluster in the center of the room, then beckoned the Starfleet crew to leave. Liam had already explained he couldn't be sure of not transporting the wrong people back in time and requested the room be cleared.

Reed, Hoshi, Derek, and Phlox walked out first. Archer and Trip held back a moment, watching Liam and Terrence hold the amulet between them. Buffy looked over at the pair, catching Trip's eyes once more. Archer couldn't decipher the look, then decided it was better if he didn't. At least not now. Archer placed a gentle hand on Trip's shoulder and steered him out of the Mess. As the door closed behind them, the air filled with static electricity. A sharp flash of light forced his eyes closed for a moment.

When Archer turned to look back inside, they were gone. Only the James brothers remained.

"Bon voyage," Archer said softly.

~*~*~

EPILOGUE ONE

Sunnydale, Two Days Later

Angel sat uncomfortably on the couch in Spike's crypt, wishing he were anyplace else. Not that he particularly hated Sunnydale, he just preferred being in Los Angeles. His new home. But Cordelia had spilled about Wesley's phone calls to Tara, prompting Angel to ask questions. Something he sorely regretted right now. Those questions and a call from Buffy had expedited his trip to Sunnydale.

Spike sat cross-legged on top of a nearby coffin. Buffy stood near the couch, leaning on the arm of it. Angel had a direct view of Spike and it seemed Buffy was their moderator, ready to jump in should the two throw any punches.

But this wasn't a social call. It was information exchange.

"Why did Drusilla choose Spike?" Buffy asked. "Specifically him out of all the people in London. Was it random or someone else's choice?"

"Just say it, Buffy," Angel said. "You want to know if I knew William was an inheritor of the Warden amulet."

"Okay, did you?" Buffy asked.

"No," Angel said immediately. "I thought he was just another random guy on the street. Dru was pretty insane by then, so no one really questioned her choice." Spike made a grunting sound that Angel ignored. "I'd heard of the legend of Arantaf from Darla a couple of decades before that. Like anyone else, I thought it was a myth."

"Darla knew," Buffy said. "Could she have turned Drusilla towards William?"

Angel looked down at his hands. "Darla did know," he finally said. "She told me so about five years after Spike was turned. She'd hidden the amulet away."

He suddenly found himself slammed against the opposite wall, Spike's forearm pressing his neck against the cold stone. Angel vamped out immediately, his own demonic visage mirroring that of his former playmate's.

"She knew all along," Spike growled. "What the hell was she waiting for, the new millennium?"

"She didn't trust you," Angel replied. He saw Buffy out of the corner of his eye, watching them. "She said she'd give it to you when she thought you were ready. Just before…I was cursed, we went back to retrieve it. The Warden was gone. Neither of us had moved it. So we never said anything, but Darla stayed in London a while longer, hunting for it."

Spike released him, stepping backward. Angel remained where he was, but his face returned to normal. He glanced at Buffy, who was watching them like an unhappy prison warden. Spike paced the length of his crypt, driven by something Angel didn't understand.

"Where did Darla hide it?" Buffy asked.

"A monastery," Angel replied. "She put in behind some stones in the bell tower."

He watched Buffy's face change as she thought. Something had clicked, for that he was certain.

"What?" he asked.

"Terrence said he found it in a monastery," Buffy said. "Buried in the ground. Maybe the priests found it and decided to hide it away."

Angel grimaced. "Well, Darla did eat a few of the monks because they had taken a vow of silence and wouldn't tell her where it was."

"Gee, thanks for sharing that happy memory from your past," Buffy said.

"Sorry."

"So now we're back where we started three days ago," Buffy said. "No amulet, business as usual, life goes on."

Spike snorted, stopping his pacing long enough to glare at her. "For some people it does," he said gruffly. "For others the world just spins on around you, moving everyone else through their merry lives while you stay still. Static. Forever."

Angel looked at Spike for a moment, wondering where the fountain of philosophy had come from. And then he realized that no matter what Angel thought of him or knew of his past, Spike had changed from his contact with the Warden. From his contact with his past and with a future he would never have.

And Angel pitied him.

~*~*~

EPILOGUE TWO

NX-01 Enterprise, One Day After That

T'Pol was only mildly thirsty, but she found that green tea helped her relax in the evening just before bedtime. It had become a habit, in fact, to come to the Mess Hall for tea each evening between 2200 and 2230 hours. It was almost always vacant at that hour, except for the occasional tables of crewmen chatting and snacking.

She strode into the Mess Hall at 2217 and walked directly to the drink dispenser. T'Pol took a glass and placed it inside the dispenser.

"Green tea, hot," she said.

The tea drained down into her glass in a steamy stream. Once full, she picked it up by its handle and pivoted on her left heel. On her way toward the door, she spotted a figure sitting alone near the windows. He was the only other person in the room, hunched over in a chair and staring out at the stars. As she passed, T'Pol recognized Commander Tucker.

She stopped, wondering if she should make the polite gesture of saying hello. Except Tucker appeared preoccupied with his thoughts. The logical thing would be to continue back to her quarters. Often humans did not require small pleasantries when they were contemplating, as Tucker appeared to be doing now. And yet, as humans were always contradicting themselves, sometimes they needed someone to bring their thoughts back to the present.

"Hey, T'Pol," Tucker said, without turning his head.

With her decision made for her, T'Pol stepped toward the windows. As she neared him, T'Pol observed him with a practiced eye. His shoulders were hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees and his chin on his palms. He had not shaved recently and his eyes betrayed a lack of good sleeping habits.

"Are you troubled, Commander?" T'Pol asked. Perhaps some sort of nightmare was keeping him from restful sleep. Several crewmen who had seen the vampire creatures had complained of such occurrences.

Tucker cut his eyes at her. "Not at all," he said. "Just enjoyin' the view."

"I will say good-night then, Commander" T'Pol said.

As she turned to go, his voice stopped her.

"I used to be afraid of dyin'," Tucker said. His voice sounded hollow, unlike itself. "For the longest time I was afraid, ever since I was a kid. Thought about how scary it must be."

T'Pol turned again. She walked over to stand next to Tucker, who was once again staring out of the window.

"And now?" she asked, her curiosity peaked. In the past three days, she had not heard Commander Tucker speak of his…incident. At least not publicly. She had assumed he'd spoken with Captain Archer about it, but now that assumption was being tested.

He craned his neck to look up at her. She met his gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed and slightly puffy. Signs of either allergies or extended crying. She would not guess which.

"I ever tell you I had a brother?" Tucker asked.

T'Pol blinked at the sudden change in subject. "No, you have not," she replied. "Is he in Starfleet?"

"He's dead," Tucker said.

That was also unexpected. There was a required statement of solace that she attempted to recall correctly. "I am sorry for your loss," she said.

He laughed, but there was something wrong with it. It was not joyous as so much of the laughter she'd heard on board had been. She wondered briefly if it was possible for humans to laugh sarcastically.

"We grew up in Texas," Tucker said, turning to look out the window. It seemed as if he was watching the memories in the glass, and describing the events to her as they happened. "Our house was near a creek that was actually a dry wash most of the year. But in the spring, it flooded from rains and snow meltin' up north."

T'Pol placed her tea on the table nearby and sat in an empty chair.

"Tommy was two years younger than me," Tucker continued. "He loved taggin' along everywhere I went. It bugged the hell outta me back then, y'know. The winter I turned eight my buddies and I built a raft outta wood scraps. We wanted to float it down the creek that spring, see how far we could get. Of course, Tommy wanted to come. And my mom made us promise to take him along.

"So we took the raft and ran off, hopin' to lose him. We went away from the creek, then doubled back. It seemed to work, 'cause we got to the creek and he wasn't anywhere to be seen. So we rafted."

Tucker reached out his hand and traced small shapes on the window. T'Pol listened intently, but did not feel a question or response was warranted at this point.

"Tommy didn't show up at lunch," Tucker said. "We told my mom he'd gotten bored and went off to play. My buddies and I went lookin' for him right after we ate. By supper time he was nowhere to be found. So my dad asked a friend to take his Sky-Craft out. It had heat sensors. They thought he was just lost."

He stopped again, this time to clear his throat. T'Pol noticed subtle changes in his voice as he told his tale and as emotion took control of his speech.

"I was there when they pulled him outta the creek," Tucker said. "His face was blue, kinda bloated. And he looked so scared, like he'd been screamin' out loud when he died. I had nightmares so bad after that my parents decided to move. But since then I'd been afraid of death. I thought that if it was so bad to make Tommy scream like that, I didn't ever wanna die."

His chin trembled. A tear trickled from his right eye and left a slick trail down his cheek. T'Pol felt at a complete loss. She had observed human interaction enough to know this was the time a hug was often offered. But she doubted that such a gesture from her would be accepted. Would it even offend him? So she remained still and silent, not wishing to upset him further.

"Then I did die," Tucker said. "I was really dead for about five minutes, although it felt like eternity. But I was happy there. I was so warm and so safe. I realized then that it wasn't death that had scared Tommy. It was bein' all alone in that water. But I hadn't been alone. Jon was there, you were there, Hoshi and Malcolm were there. So it kinda seemed okay.

"Then I was back and it was cold again. Death wasn't so bad, y'know." He looked at her with shining eyes. "But at least I won't be scared next time."

T'Pol looked away. She felt her control being tested and willed herself to push the offending emotions away. But it was difficult. In the seven months aboard Enterprise, she had never considered a member of the crew her friend. Acquaintances and colleagues, certainly; but not friends. And Tucker needed a friend right now. He needed Captain Archer more than he needed her.

"I don't know why I said all that," Tucker said. "I never even told the Cap'n about Tommy. My family just…doesn't talk about him."

She bit her tongue to control her initial response. It pleased her to know that Commander Tucker had shared a secret with her, but she did not understand why. Without thought, T'Pol reached out and gently placed her left hand on his knee. She immediately wished to withdraw it, but did not. Tucker looked down at her hand, then up and into her eyes.

"Thank you," T'Pol said. "For sharing your secret with me. And if saying so makes any difference, Commander, I am pleased that you did not remain dead."

T'Pol felt his hand cover hers and she no longer wished to remove it. He gave her a half-smile, quirking up the corner of his mouth. The shine was gone from his eyes, the tears dried up.

"I guess living does have its perks," he said.

T'Pol's mouth twitched. But she did not allow herself to smile. At least not outwardly.

THE END

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