Years Later Series:
The Prize and The Price
by KNS

She led him to one of the poorest areas of the city. Drunks and homeless gathered around tiny fires in narrow alleys prostitutes of both sexes stood beneath streetlamps on every corner, calling out to passing vehicles. In the shadows people exchanged currency for small packages that were quickly concealed in pockets or bags.

Turning a corner, Buffy brought him face to face with a grate of wrought iron over a steel door. He read the sign on the door as she activated the doorchime.

"This isn't a bank," he said, surprised not because of what the place was not, but because of what it was. "This is a safehouse and an orphanage."

She shrugged. "There's more than one kind of evil, contrary to the Council's belief. Evil is a child without enough to eat. Evil is a woman that can't escape from the man that beats her to a pulp. Evil is the man who makes too much money for financial assistance and too little to afford a place to live. The Watchers' Council thinks it's fighting evil. No one ever wants to think about the everyday evil."

Before Angel could respond the door cracked open, allowing light to spill into the dark street. "Yes?" a woman's voice said. "What can I do for you?"

"It's just me, Sister. Buffy Summers," the Slayer answered.

The door opened wide enough that the woman could be seen. She was an older woman dressed in simple clothes that looked to have seen better days. Around her neck she wore a large silver cross. "Buffy Summers? Where have you been, my child? I haven't seen you in years." She smiled warmly, then quickly unlocked the grate between them. "Come in, come in."

Angel followed Buffy into a small room inside the building. The tiny room was a safety chamber another large door separated it from the rest of the building. He had no doubt that the door was locked.

The woman embraced Buffy affectionately. "It's so good to see you, Buffy. Ah, I see you brought a friend with you! How wonderful. I do so hate to see you out alone so often."

Buffy smiled. "This is Angel. He looks out for me. Angel, this is Sister Elen. She lives here at the center and makes sure everything runs smoothly."

"Nice to meet you,' Angel said. He didn't offer to shake her hand - he was hesitant to touch her in any way. Vampires weren't known to get on well with holy people. . .

Sister Elen was all smiles and good cheer. "Welcome, Angel, welcome. I'm so glad you care for our Buffy. She needs someone to ‘look out' for her. Bless you, my child." She laid a hand on his shoulder, and all at once her expression changed.

She yanked her hand away from him and reached for her cross. Glancing at Buffy, she exclaimed, "Stand away, Buffy! He belongs to the Evil One."

"No," Buffy cried, seizing Angel's hand. "He's not like that, Sister. He's on our side. He loves me," she added, as if that should count for something.

Angel wasn't sure what to do. He was tempted to leave, but Buffy's grip of death on his hand rather canceled that idea. "I would never hurt you," he said, which was only half truth. He himself would never hurt anyone - but the demon inside him would like nothing better than to conduct a massacre in this place to which he had so quickly been invited.

Slowly Sister Elen looked from him to the woman grasping his hand. "How can this be?" she asked. "You are of the light he is of the dark. I have never heard of such a pairing."

"Light drives away the darkness," Angel answered simply.

The woman looked back to him. "Yes, it can," she slowly said. "And for her sake, and your own, I pray it has."

A silence lay between the three. Buffy broke it by handing the brown cloth sack to Sister Elen. "Here. I know you'll use it better than I would."

The woman took the sack, looked inside and then quickly glanced at the Slayer. "Where did you get this! Honestly earned, I know - but the work you must go through to get it. . . and then to give it away. . ."

"It's not a gift, it's an investment," Buffy replied. "What goes on here at the center is building a better future - I like to be a part of that in as many ways as possible."

Angel knew what she was saying, but he doubted the sister did.

But then again, perhaps she did. Sister Elen reached out and placed a kiss on Buffy's forehead. "Be careful, my child. The path you walk is full of dangers. May God bless you and keep you safe from harm."

Sister Elen looked to Angel. "And you - if you love her as she says you do, then God bless you as well. Watch over her. Perhaps in time the burden you carry will ease." She gave him a knowing look. "It can be no easy matter to be what you are yet do as you do."

In all his years as a vampire, it was the first time Angel had ever found himself gifted with a blessing.

Buffy threw herself down beside a fallen crate, trying to regain her breath. She glanced at her sticky hands, saw that they were covered with the blueish-grey slime and gore from the chaos demons. Groaning in disgust, she wiped them on her pants.

"Don't do that," Angel advised, slumping down beside her. "It won't wash out. This is the voice of experience talking." He started to run a hand through his hair, then thought better of the idea and lowered his arm.

"*Now* you tell me," Buffy panted, glaring at the wet, icky splotches on her pants. "Yuck." She looked over at the decapitated corpse sprawled against the warehouse, only a handful of paces from her. "Have you ever seen anything so disgusting? I mean, the slime - and those antlers - ugh." She shivered.

Angel shook his head. "And those trunks. . . A male and a female. Makes you wonder how they breed, doesn't it?"

She was silent for a moment, then groaned. "Just when I thought things couldn't get any yuckier. You just had to say that, didn't you?"

"I'm going to be stuck with these mental images for the rest of my un-life," he agreed.

A comfortable silence lay between them as they recovered. The two demons had been more than a handful, Angel found himself thinking. Tricky and surprisingly agile for creatures so big, the demons had put up quite a fight. It had taken nearly an hour to kill them both, and it'd taken a fair amount of time simply to *find* them to begin with. Still, for all their hiding, trickery, and speed -

"Buffy," Angel said, turning to look at her.

"Yes?" She turned to face him.

"I'm not saying they were easy kills, but - how did those two manage to kill two Watchers?" Angel added, "They seemed more interested in making things a mess than harming people, even us. We could have walked away half a dozen times and they wouldn't have tried to follow us."

Buffy's eyebrows knitted together. "You're right," she said, frowning. "Things didn't really heat up until the female was cornered. What Wesley said doesn't make sense. Watchers aren't Slayers by any means, but they are well-trained."

Angel shook his head. "It's almost as if this was -"

"- Just a test," Buffy finished.

"Is Wesley trying to get you killed?"

"By two chaos demons? Pretty low odds of that happening. There are much easier ways to get me dead." She paused. "Of course, we are talking bout the Frog Prince here. . ."

"This isn't funny, Buffy," Angel said, concern making his voice sharp. "If he really is after your death, then it won't be long before he eventually finds something that will kill you."

Buffy nodded wearily. "I know, I know. We're gonna have to have a heart-to-heart about it real soon."

"Let's go." Angel stood up and offered her a hand. He was ready to tell the head of the Council a thing or two - like how miserably he would die if he harmed Buffy . . .

Since his hands were as filthy as hers, she accepted it. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to pay Wes a little visit tomorrow in his office. He doesn't even think I know where he is." She laughed shortly. "Little toad. Can't wait to see the look on his face . . ."

Wesley Wyndham-Price was holding a meeting with his chief advisors when the commotion first started. It began with a bang somewhere down the hallway, then was followed by shouting and the sound of something heavy being hurled against a wall, and just as he and his advisors were standing to investigate the ruckus, the antique, wooden double doors of his officer were thrown wide open.

"Hey there, Wes," Buffy greeted him. "Thought I'd come by and see how you are today." She was flanked by a number of confused, concerned Watchers.

Wesley and his advisors exchanged glances. He had expected the Slayer to call demanding an appointment - not that she would show up at his door, so to speak. He had always taken great precautions that she not know their headquarter location. Someone, however, had obviously told her - probably the old librarian or the witch. Their loyalties had always been questionable. . .

Well, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing his surprise.

"It's all right," he assured the Watchers standing warily behind her. "You can go."

Buffy turned and flashed a predatory smile at those flanking her. "Yes, we're good here. Wes and I are just gonna have a little talk." The men and women did not look convinced. She waved goodbye cheerfully and shut the double doors in their faces.

"I assume you've come about last night?" Wesley asked nonchalantly. He resumed his seat, motioned for the others to do likewise.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "No, I'm here to talk about the weather," she said sarcastically. "What the hell was last night about? We have a deal, remember? You only contact me when it's *important*."

Wesley quickly glanced at his advisors, then said calmly, "Well, I have important information for you now. Sit down -"

"Sure you do," she interrupted, pacing around the office. She cut between the advisors, well aware that her nearness made then uneasy. To them, she was a thing of both good and evil - she was the Slayer, but kept no counsel but her own. She was a rogue, a rebel she was powerful, undefeatable. She was a legend made of flesh and bone.

And she was not pleased. Her anger could be felt in the hand that brushed a shoulder, heard in the nearly silent step on the carpet, seen in the sharp light in her hazel eyes.

Only Wesley was not in awe of her. He knew how she could be controlled.

"What little mission are you going to send me on today, Wes?" she continued, cris-crossing between chairs. "More chaos demons? A vamp or two? Some missing amulet? A -"

"-Another Master."

She halted dead in her step and turned to look at him. "You're lying." Her voice was hard but lacked conviction.

He shook his head carefully. He had to be very cautious now everything depended on how he presented this new deal. "I am not, unfortunately."

She glared at him. "There was only one Master. He's been dead for a long time."

"Time moves differently in Hell, Buffy - you know that." Quickly he leeched the irritation out of his voice. "It's been thousands, maybe millions of years since you killed the last Master. Another one has come to power, and soon it will Rise."

Buffy looked to the other Watchers. Their grim faces supported Wesley's words.

"No," she said, shaking her head. Already she knew what would be asked of her.

"You must destroy him."

"No," Buffy said again, her voice fierce now. "I took care of the last one. It cost me big time. I won't do it again."

"If the Master Rises, the world will be covered with darkness. Society as we know it will end. Evil will trample out Good, and there will be no stopping it," Wesley said calmly. She already knew these things. "It is your duty -"

"My duty!" she echoed angrily. "Not a chance in hell, Wesley! I've done my duty. Where's the other Slayer? It's her turn to kill a Master. We'll make it a new rite-of-passage act."

"You're afraid," one of the advisors accused.

"You're damn right I am," she snapped, turning her fiery gaze on him. "The last one *killed* me. Not wounded, not harmed, killed. I died. Dead, as in no more life. Only a miracle saved me. I won't get that lucky twice."

"The other Slayer is not fit to face the Master," Wesley said desperately. "She is still a child -"

"- I was a child -"

"She's fifteen years old!" another advisor cried.

Buffy ran a hand across her face. "Dammit, dammit, dammit." Abruptly she picked up a crystal vase on Wesley's desk and hurled it against a wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces. "I won't do it," she said softly, and headed for the double doors.

"Perhaps we could make it worth your while," Wesley desperately called after her.

"Doubt it," she answered, reaching the doors.

Wesley lost his cool, threw out his last card. "We have the cure for Angel!"

Slowly Buffy stopped. "Are you threatening me?" she asked softly, oh so softly.

"Not at all," Wesley quickly answered. He stood up and walked over to her. "What I meant to say was, we have discovered a spell to revert Angel back to his original form, to drive the demon from his body forever. In short, to make him human."

Buffy turned to face him. There was an odd look on her face. "Human?" she echoed, her voice strange.

Wesley nodded. "Fully." He let the implications sink in. He watched as hope was born in her eyes. "All you have to do is destroy the Master."

She swallowed, glanced around the room at the others. Suddenly her gaze shifted back to him. "I could die fighting the Master. I probably will." Her voice took on a desperation of its own. "Please, please give me the spell now. Willow will preform it you can trust her -"

Wesley shook his head.

"Please, my word is good," Buffy pleaded. "I swear I'll face the Master. Just let me have it. . ."

"No," Wesley said, careful not to let his delight show. Here was the perfect way to control the rogue Slayer. . . "If you defeat the Master, it's yours. Even if you die, the spell will still be given to him in honor of your sacrifice. Either way, you win - and so does he."

Buffy heard the finality in his voice. She glanced at the advisors, but none would meet her eyes. Not one of them would side with her against him no one would plead her cause.

"Do we have a deal?" Wesley asked.

When she looked at him, the desperation was gone from her eyes, had been replaced by iron-hard resolve.

"Yes."

Sequel!

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