Author's Note: In my little world, Willow has already started learning the Black Arts.

Raksha stepped into the library, closely followed by Spike. The group had already assembled at their table and looked like they had been waiting for a long time. Giles, Oz and Willow were discussing "Anthem", while Cordelia filed her nails. Buffy was sharpening stakes and Xander was trying to entertain her with his tales, which, Raksha had to admit, were amusing from a teenage perspective.

"Are we late?" Raksha asked, clearly in a slay 'em, ask names later mood. She stopped at the head of the table, Spike slightly behind her.

"No," Buffy answered. "We're just impatient. I'm impatient." She hopped out of her seat and grabbed her supplies. "Ready to go?"

"Slayer, if we rush in like this, we're going to get ourselves killed," Spike commented. < Damn, if she's always this unprepared why didn't I kill her before. >

"Sorry," Buffy atoned, giving him a look that made him glad he wasn't mortal. "It's just that..." Buffy sighed.

"It's all right," Raksha said giving her a slight smile. "I understand. We all just want this to be over."

"Some of us don't, luv," Spike murmured. Raksha elbowed firmly him in the ribs, but otherwise ignored him.

"All right. Spike, you'll go in and distract them like we mentioned yesterday," Raksha said, naturally assuming the position as leader. She picked up a stake that was sitting on the table. "Here take this." She handed the stake to him and he took it, after he gave it a look of disgust.

Raksha studied Spike with a piercing glare. "Are you hungry?" she asked finally.

Spike squirmed. He was hungry, but he knew she'd make him feed on her. She needed to be strong. "I'm fine..." At her skeptical look, he said, "Really, pet."

Raksha continued glaring at him. Finally, she picked up the knife, off the table, that Buffy had been using to carve stakes. She quickly took off her jacket and dropped it over a chair. Then she rolled up her shirt sleeve and secured it. She drew the knife quickly across her wrist, slicing the skin open.

Spike watched her moves, memorized by her grace. Her demon blood dripped down from the wound and fell on to the floor. As it did so, the dark fluid called to him seductively, like a lover.

Spike tried resist its lure but found himself transformed into his other face. He licked off all the blood on her wrist, making sure it was clean. Then he lightly latched on to her wrist and gently started to feed.

The other occupants of the room were floored. They could not comprehend the actions of both of the demons. It was odd to see Spike in such a position and Raksha's actions were completely did not fit into the impression they had gotten from her. Raksha saw the looks on their faces and agreed with them. She also did not understand the thing between Spike and herself, despite the fact that she was a part of it.

Spike unattached himself from Raksha's wrist a minute later. To everyone's amazement, besides Spike, Raksha's wounds healed almost instantly. The only thing left thirty seconds later was some faint marks and some excess blood on her wrist.

Raksha reached into her jacket and pulled out two Kleenex. She handed one to Spike, which he took and wiped off his mouth.

"I'm gonna go clean up, pet," Spike told Raksha.

She nodded and he left. She took the other Kleenex and cleaned off the drying fluid on her wrist. She rolled down her shirt sleeve and put her jacket back on.

"Where were we?" Raksha asked the shell shocked slayer and friends, ignoring their shock. "Okay, while Spike is distracting Angelus and Drusilla, Buffy and I will take out the guards."

"Aren't we a little late to try tonight?" Giles asked, looking at his watch. It was almost eight o'clock.

"No," Raksha answered. "They don't leave until about ten or eleven to go hunting. We will have plenty of time. After Buffy and I stake the guards, I will give the rest of you a signal to come in with my supplies. Do you have my things, Mr. Giles?"

"Y - yes," Giles answered. He nodded at a duffle bag. "Right there."

Spike had stealthily snuck back into the dimly lighted library. He appeared almost out of nowhere at Raksha's side. His body showed no signs of his feeding, except for the fact his skin had picked up a little color from the blood he had taken.

"Great," Raksha told Giles. "Are we all ready?"

The two demons, slayer and four humans stalked down the street towards the mansion, with all of their supplies. To any normal person the looked like any other group of people. To an observant person three things would be noticed: they were all good looking individuals, they were rather oddly matched and they seemed to radiate power. To a person with good senses they would be on their list of people to avoid pissing off.

They were indeed a magnificent sight. A five thousand year old demon hunter with the weight of the world on her shoulders. A two hundred year old vampire with more power than most demons see in a thousand years. A slayer, the strongest to ever live. A watcher with the strength and courage of his ancestors. A werewolf with heightened senses and unnatural strength. A red haired girl who was good with the magics, with the potential to become better. A dark haired boy and a dark haired girl who were destined to change the world together. Each one was a formidable opponent alone.

But tonight they were fighting together.