***************************************

Nikki woke up early, wanting to feed without Robin present. She slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom, pausing momentarily at the bags of clothing that had been set next to her bedroom door.

He'd gone out again, last night.

She finished off two bags of blood and was wandering around the kitchen when Robin emerged from his room. She gave a nervous little half-wave in greeting.

"Morning."

"Morning."

Nikki clasped her hands together, to keep from grabbing at him desperately. "I feel like I should be...ironing a shirt for you, or making you breakfast. I tried the coffee maker but -- I suppose there's a lot I'll have to learn, right? I was never really good at that kind of thing anyway. Kind of busy with the training, and the staking, and demon-killing, plus your father usually slept past noon -- not becaues he was lazy! He worked nights. He owned a club --did you know that? I'm not sure how much you..." Why was she prattling on like this? No need to be flustered. This was Robin. Her son.

"I know." Bland not-smile that she couldn't read as he moved past her, set the coffeemaker humming with an effortless push of a button. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes." God, they were so considerate and polite and strange. I used to tie your shoes for you, Nikki thought.

She crossed to the living room, gravitating toward the stereo system while behind her, Robin sipped his coffee contemplatively. She plucked a CD out of the case, bumbling with the machine and feeling more gawky and inept by the minute. But anything was better than turning to see the vague, unspoken censure on Robin's face. After some wrangling, music finally filled the stiff silence.

I gotta make it to heaven, fuck going through hell
Gotta make it to heaven, gotta make it to heaven
I gotta make it to heaven, fuck going through hell
Gotta make it to heaven I hope I make it to heaven

Nikki cocked her head, eyes widening slightly.

In an instant Robin was beside her, and now he was the one fumbling with the player.

"That's not -- wait a minute, just one second --" With obvious relief he removed the CD and shoved in another.

Nikki stood still as the sad, soulful music washed over her. "Gregory -- my Watcher -- loved Etta James. Said she was the closest thing to an angel we'd ever get."

"I know. He gave me this CD."

"You know where he is?"

"About eighty miles south of here." Robin moved to the couch. "I'll take you to see him whenever you're ready. He raised me, you know. After..."

After I didn't. Nikki sighed and sat down next to him. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for." Still with that same placid, neutral tone that made her want to scream and throw things and cradle him to her as she once did.

Instead she rose. On impulse, she bent and kissed his forehead. At the touch of her lips, he shivered.

Alone again in the guest room, Nikki studied her reflection in the mirror. Still there. Good to know. She examined the shapeless, conservative clothes Robin had chosen for her, then began to peel off the sweatpants she'd slept in.

She turned around, fiddling with the strap of her bra. And gasped.

"I always loved watching you undress."

***************************************

It was near dusk when Buffy limped home from another Giles-directed 'reconnaissance mission'. She would have really liked to mock him over the dramatic terminology, except her little errand had actually paid off. Well, there would certainly be more opportunities for snarkage. Assuming, of course, that either of them were still alive a week from now.

She wasn't surprised to see Robin Wood's car parked in front of the house. He'd called that afternoon, saying that he and Nikki would come over later to assist with training, patrolling and general end-of-world-averting. He hadn't seemed too pleased about it, which made Buffy wonder if it hadn't been Nikki's idea. Which then made her wonder if Nikki had a stake with Spike's name on it.

The front door was open. Thanks, guys, she thought irritably. Voices drifted from the kitchen and she slowly made her way there. I swear if Andrew took the last of the ice for his stupid mango-papaya smoothies and didn't refill the trays I'm gonna turn him into a human sacrifice.

Willow, Xander, Dawn and Nikki were seated at the kitchen table. Everyone's attention was on the former Slayer, who returned their gazes with brittle indifference. Nikki looked a bit edgy, Buffy observed. Well, resurrections were a bitch. She was about to join them, then hung back when Willow spoke.

"So." Willow cleared her throat. "We, um...heard about your big excitement. With the being dead and all." Nikki stared at her coldly. "Of course, if you don't want to talk about it --"

Xander reached for a donut. "Why is it," he asked of no one in particular, "that I never fall for the regular girls? Bug people, Inca mummies, vengeance demons, followers of the First Evil...maybe I should just start going to Bingo Night down at the lodge."

Willow patted his arm. "Don't be silly, Xander. Remember the penis-monster lady? She played there every Wednesday night. So that's really not the best --" He glared at her. "And, also, I'm sure you'll find a very nice girl someday! Try to just...be strong, and find reassurance in my rambling."

"Can't be all that bad," Nikki commented, and Buffy heard the sly interest in her tone. "After all, you're still ahead of Buffy and her vampire boyfriend." Hello, Buffy thought, could you be any more obvious? Like my friends are going to just --

"Boyfriends," Willow mumbled.

Nikki inclined her head slightly, encouraging her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Boyfriends," Dawn repeated helpfully. "Spike wasn't her first."

"Ex-boyfriends," Xander corrected them. "Can we not forget the 'ex' part? Please?"

Dawn scooted her chair closer to Nikki, studying her curiously. "Buffy says you're a dead Slayer from twenty-five years ago and that the First accidentally brought you back to life."

Nikki appeared to play that over in her mind. "That sounds about right."

Dawn nodded. "I'm a thousand-year-old bundle of magical green energy."

Nikki nodded back impassively. "I drink blood and have visions."

Dawn smiled. "I was made by monks two years ago. They implanted false memories of me into everyone I know."

Nikki digested this for a moment. "You got me," she conceded. "I can't beat that."

"I like you," Dawn informed her. "You're way cooler than the Potentials and you've got a sense of humor."

“Thanks,” Nikki replied. “It’s from my class on How To Win Friends And Influence People After Coming Back From The Dead.”

Dawn sniffed. “I wish Buffy had taken that class.”

"I heard that," Buffy said from the doorway. She entered the kitchen, giving Nikki a pointed once-over before opening the freezer. "Dawn, would you see how Spike's coming along with --"

The teen shot up from the table. "No."

Buffy closed her eyes briefly. "Dawnie --" But her sister was already gone.

"I'll go, Buff," Willow volunteered. "He said he had some ingredients for that energy transference spell I've been working on, anyway." She left the room hurriedly.

Xander stood as well. "How went the search-and-destroy?" he asked. "We could use some good news around here."

Buffy grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. Andrew, you are so dead. "It wasn't search-and-destroy," she answered. "It was search-and-report-back-to-Giles-so-we-can-argue-about-what-to-do-next. Not nearly as enjoyable and I still got injured in the line of duty."

Xander frowned as Buffy lowered herself into a kitchen chair. "Attacked by a Bringer?"

Buffy pressed the frozen vegetables to her knee with a hiss. "Tripped over a tombstone. Hey, will you and Anya get everyone together? We're going to see some action tonight."

"No problem." He went outside, back door banging shut behind him. Buffy and Nikki were alone. For long moments neither spoke.

"I need Spike," Buffy said finally. "I don't know if I can win this fight without him."

Nikki didn't respond.

"This isn't the first apocalypse he's helped out with, you know," Buffy told her. "There have been others."

At that Nikki turned her frosty regard on Buffy. "'Apocalypse' has a pretty strictly-defined meaning," she said. "Maybe you should look it up."

Buffy was surprised by the pang of hurt she felt, and Nikki looked away again. "Sorry. Guess I'm just not myself these days."

"Whatever," Buffy retorted. She toyed with the frayed hem of her jeans and they sat in a lengthening silence.

"You were a Slayer," Buffy began hesitantly. "But you had this whole other life. A husband. A child."

"Yes."

"I always thought that was impossible. I've always had to choose."

"Mmm. Before I met Reese, I thought the same thing. Hard to find a man -- hard to find anyone willing to sign on for the whole tour."

"Don't I know it," Buffy muttered. "'I want you to have a normal life, Buffy'. Sure. And in which dimension, exactly, can I have that?"

"That what ended your thing with Spike?"

"No! No, Spike never --" Buffy bit back the rest of the words, took a deep breath. "I was wondering when you'd bring that up."

Nikki shrugged. "Your phenomenally bad judgment is none of my business."

"Unless, of course, you're planning on killing my --" Buffy searched for an appropriate term -- "Spike," she finished lamely.

"'Your Spike' is safe for now," Nikki replied cryptically. Buffy shook her head.

"Not good enough."

Nikki stood, paced. Buffy was reminded of Spike's nervous energy, his frustration with the world and with her.

"Look, can we have this conversation later?" Nikki asked her. "Temporary truce until the First Evil is gone for good?"

Buffy opened her mouth to protest but the other girl seemed earnest. "All right," Buffy agreed. "But we will have it."

"Thanks." Nikki's fingers danced along the nicked and battered surface of the countertop.

"How did you guys make it?" Buffy blurted out.

Nikki raised an eyebrow. Buffy flushed.

"Make it work. How did you and your guy make it work? The relationship, I mean," she added hastily.

"Oh, that," Nikki said softly. "It's not easy, not ever. But I was lucky. Reese...understood me." There was a strange, faraway look in her eyes that suddenly chilled Buffy. But she had to know; had to discover how this girl had possessed all those things that had always seemed so far out of Buffy's reach.

"I got around," Nikki continued with that same distant dreaminess. "No shortage of handsome men in Manhattan. It never lasted. I mean, what was the point? It's not like any of them could handle me."

"Is that what you wanted? To be handled?"

"Hmm. I wanted...to not see that look on people's faces anymore. That one when they finally saw what I was capable of. My parents -- you have to understand. My father was a teacher. My mother was an educated woman, cultured. And I...I was everything that they ran from, fought against: a brawler, a nightclub kitty, an aimless girl who was kicked out of three high schools before she managed to graduate. The last time I came home bleeding from a fight, my mother disowned me. Men...once they realized I could run faster, throw further, hit harder -- well, it was only a matter of time. Some stuck around longer than others but the end was always the same."

Nikki shrugged again. Her eyes were sharp and assessing once more, that momentary abstraction gone as if had never been. "You know how it is. Then I met Reese."

Buffy was engrossed; the tentative and ultimately ill-destined teenaged confidences she'd shared so briefly with Faith were nothing compared to this. She'd been told for years how the other Slayers died. Now she was learning how another Slayer lived.

War stories and cautionary tales and first-aid tips had been the soundtracks to her stop-start lifetimes. She'd heard enough of them. She wanted to hear, instead, how to have a partner and raise a child with predators all around; how to dance and dance and dance all night and still keep a sharpened stake within arm's reach; how to kill things when grief, heavy and harsh, underscored the sanctity of life. Of unlife.

Buffy leaned forward. "What was he like? What did he do different?"

Nikki looked at her oddly. "He didn't do anything. He just let me be." Buffy stared at her blankly.

"Reese was proud of me. Loved to see me fight -- said lots of charming things about 'poetry in motion' and all that jazz to get me back to his place after I'd do my rounds. That boy could spin some sweet sugar...But he meant it, too."

"He wasn't...he didn't feel..."

"Inadequate?" Nikki smiled softly. "No. He was more than a match for me." She rubbed her arms absently, as if cold, although the a/c had broken days ago.

"Sometimes," she murmured, "sometimes I think Reese knew me better than I knew myself."

***************************************

"You look good, malika." Queen. His name for her. "Strong, healthy. It's time to show them that."

"What -- what do you mean?" Dimly she recalled something Spike had said, something about familiar faces...

"They're not your friends. A bunch of sniveling suburban kids playing hero? The blonde bimbo?"

"You mean Buffy?"

"A pretender to your throne, that one is. And him. The vampire."

With an effort, she shook her head. "You're not my husband. I know who you are."

"Do you, now?" Teasing her, like he had so many times before.

"Get out."

Reese's face contorted into something ugly and mean. "Don't be so hasty, baby girl. You're only here because of me. I brought you back. That houseful of hippy-dippy do-gooders was happy to go on living their lives, no thought to you moldering in the ground. Where he put you."

She felt sobs gathering in her throat. He went on, all seduction and honey. "You've seen it, haven't you? What you really are. Destruction, sweet thing. Chaos and carnage and all sorts of other broken beauty. Stop fighting it."

"No," she whispered. He laughed.

"The battle's all but won. And when it's finished, you'll have their blood on your hands." He winked at her, playful. "I can't wait to see the show."

She scrabbled behind her, grabbed a hairbrush from off the dresser and threw it wildly. "Go!"

He blew her a kiss. "Love you." Then she was alone once more.

"Nikki?"

She jerked, tried to calm her tripping heartbeat. Willow peered at her apprehensively.

"Yeah?"

"We're, um, getting ready. Buffy thinks she's found something, in the vineyard." Willow moved closer. "Are you sure you're up to this? It sounds like it's going to be kind of crazy."

Nikki straightened from where she'd been slumped against the cabinets. "Are you kidding?" She led the way out of the room, Willow following cautiously.

"I can't wait to see the show."

Part 12: In The Mood

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