A thousand years ago, the world was dark and the demons ran rampant over the earth.  Once they were banished from this world, and the vampires were born, a girl was called to fight them.

        With the first of the Ones death, the black, cheerless heavens opened up and wept for a hundred nights and days.  When the sky finally cleared, the heavens were dotted with a million points of lights, the stars, the tears of the Slayer, showing that she remained always, to watch over humanity and her sisters-in arms in the blackness of the dreary night.

        The stars remain to this day, and with the death of each Slayer, the first Slayer weeps upon them, mourning their deaths, and the sky drips with her tears...

        "What're you up too, Will, ole boy?"  

        William Anthony Giles III rolled his eyes as he packed his trunk, glancing over his shoulder at his roommate, "What does it look like?"  He asked in annoyance, slamming the trunk closed, "I'm going home for the holiday."

        "Oh, lucky you," Jackson dropped down on his bed with a grimace, "My mum's feeling sickly, so I'm stuck here."

        "Two weeks?"  William raised an eyebrow, "There won't be anyone here."

        "Oh, there'll be all the Watchers," Jackson shuddered, "Old Man Withers is out to get me too," The ruggardly handsome boy complained, "He's going to be making my life hell for the next couple weeks."

        William snorted in sympathy, "I'm stuck with my father and his Slayer."  He couldn't help the small amount of pride that crept into his voice.  Of all the prospective Watchers, his family was the only one with an active Slayer.  "I haven't seen her in five years...since before she was called."

        "Ah.  And she'll be how old now?"  

        "Sixteen.  Nearly seventeen, if I remember correctly."

        Jackson grinned widely as he ran a hand through his short, brown hair, his hazel eyes twinkling merrily.  He was considered the class clown of the current Watcher's Academy boys.  "Wonder what my Slayer will be like."

        "How do you even know you'll get one?"  William asked curiously, "You know that the old ones have to chose the real Watchers."

        "What about you?"  Jackson asked defensively, "What makes you so sure?"

        William shrugged, "If I do, that's good, but I won't kick myself if I don't.  I never planned on being a Watcher anyhow.  I'd have preferred to attend medical school, but of course, that was not what my father wanted."

        Jackson nodded.  That was a common theme among the Watchers-in-training.  They were usually forced into the school and hard training by their families, wishing to carry on the proud Watcher line.  Jackson, himself, was quite proud of his family tree.  There were sixteen successful Watchers in the line, two with Slayers who actually lived past seventeen, althrough they died during the test on their eighteenth birthday.

        "So...how much pleading can I do to convince you to let me come along?"  

        William considered this for several minutes, then shrugged, "Why not?  At least I won't be forced to hang around with some little girl the entire time there."

        Jackson grinned widely, "Thank you, Will.  I owe you one."

        "You owe me several," William reminded him, "Specifically nine pounds?"

        Jackson rolled his eyes, "Some friend you are."

        The two young men were let out of the carriage house around dusk, and they left their trunks there to be brought up later.  They opted to walk after a long train ride and an even longer carriage to stretch out their legs.

        "How long do you think it'll be before Old Man Withers finds the cod I left in his bedchambers?"  Jackson asked, and William groaned, "He's going to know it was you.  No one else would dare do something like that too him."

        "The thrill is in getting out of it," Jackson informed him, "The trouble or the prank doesn't count unless you talk your way out of it."

        William only shook his head, glancing around the lonely, country road as the dark deepened, "He's still going to tan your hide."

        Jackson shrugged, "Well, I deal with that when..."

        "Shh..." William looked around them again, "Do you hear that?"  

        Jackson cocked his head, frowning, hearing hoovebeats faintly in the distance, "Yes...a horse..."

        "Horses, there's two," William corrected, and Jackson shot him a look, "How can you tell?"

        "Did you ever pay attention in class?"

        They both leapt to the side of the road as a horse crested the top of the hill, and William watched as a large, blackish looking demon rode by, looking over his shoulder almost fearfully.  

        "Whoa!"  Jackson's eyes widened, this being his first demon sighting, "What the hell is it?"

        "Fliak," William answered automatically, his eyes turning back to the road as another horse appeared.  

        He watched as a dark figure came over the hill, riding a pitch black horse.  They were huddled over the neck, as if whispering to the beast, and he saw the rider was without saddle and bit.  

        The rider blew past them without a glance, and they watched as the rider stood up on the horse and leapt onto the back of the demon's, knocking him off.

        He roared as he hit the ground, bones snapping as the rider grabbed the reins of his horse and jerked it back to face them.  A sword suddenly flashed in the moonlight as the rider bore down on the demon.

        He took the defensive, standing his ground, and as the sword came flying down, he brought his hand up, and with a set of vicious claws, sank into the rider's leg.  

        A sharp cry was heard as the rider tumbled lifelessly to the ground and William tried to rush to help, but Jackson held him back, "Don't.  You will only get yourself killed."

        The demon made a rumbling sound of triumph as it went towards it downed pursuer, "Weak Slayer..." It laughed in a guttral voice, leaning over the now hunted figure.  

        Suddenly, the rider was back to live and the demon howled as the sword buried itself in his chest and the rider tried to roll away before the demon could retaliate, but his claws raked down the rider's back.

        The Slayer yelped, rolling to her feet as she yanked the sword loose, then spinning fluidly, she decapataiated the demon where it stood.

        The demon toppled to the ground, thoroughly dead, and the rider swayed on their feet before following, falling on top of the demon.

        Jackson finally let go of William and he rushed towards the fallen warrior as Jackson began to drag the demon's body towards the woods on the side of the road.  That was one of the first lessons of a Watcher.  Get rid of the evidence.

        William knelt over the downed figure, starting in shock when he saw a spray of blood, then relaxed when he realized it was only hair.  He flipped the figure onto their back and the hood fell away.  

        He felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared down at the almost haunting beauty of her.  He recoginized her right away, but gone were the spray of freckles across her nose and the awkard limbs that could barely carry a willowy frame.  

        She was a woman now, her chubby face given away to soft, feminine edges, her chest raising and falling, connected to a now curvy body beneath a black bodice that stood out against creamy, pale skin.  She had a delicate look to her, as if she would shatter into a million pieces if handled to roughly.  "Erimentha?"

        Her long, dark red lashes fluttered as she looked towards him, her vision unfocused, "David?"  She moaned softly, reaching towards him, and William winced, seeing the blood dripping from her hand.  He looked down at her leg, clothed in black, form-fitting breeches for easier movement, seeing the long, wide gash.  

        "Damn," He swore, "Jackson, grab the horses," He ordered, and Jackson quickly ran to do that, "I cannot believe my father sent her to fight a Fliak alone," He muttered bitterly as her eyes closed again, and she slipped into unconciousness.  

        He used his belt to make a tourniquet, hoping to stop the heavy flow of blood.  He glanced at the black horse, handing Erimentha to Jackson, then swinging up, taking a comfortable perch on the beast.  Jackson handed Erimentha back up to him, and he balanced her in his arms, "Let's go," He ordered as Jackson climbed into the saddle that demon had rode in, and he slapped the flanks of his steed, holding on firmly with his knees as the horse automatically made it's way home to stable and hay.

        "I cannot find him anywhere...there isn't a note..."

        "He'll show up.  What did the doctor say?"

        "As long as we keep it clean, it won't get gangerous.  It is healing, anyway..."

        Erin listened to the voices in a dreamy haze, brought on by the opium-laced drugs the doctor had prescribed for her.  

        She tried to shift, but a white-hot flame of pain shot up her left leg, making her cry out as tears squeezed out of her pale lids.  

        Immediately, a calloused hand was against her forehead, "The fever's gone..."

        She recoginized the voice dimly, whispering through dry, parched lips, "David..."

        She felt a pin-prick, and then she drifted back into a deep, dreamless sleep where she didn't feel any pain.

        William ran a hand through his black hair, glancing at Jackson as he carefully cleaned the gash in the unconcious Slayer's leg.  "Where could he be?  He knew I was coming."

        Jackson shrugged, keeping his eyes studiously on the fire, polite to not look at the girl's exposed limbs.  He hadn't the right, being neither her Watcher or an aquitance.  "He probably left for a little while..."

        "For two days?"  William shook his head with a sigh, "Never mind that.  How much did you give her?"

        Jackson glanced at the vial in his hand, "Enough to keep her unconcious, but I would not suggest anymore.  It is fiercely addictive."

        William nodded, though his friend could not see her, and looked at the redhead's composed face, "She'll probably know once she wakes up," He sighed again, dipping the blood-soaked rag in a bowl of warm water, wringing it out, then pulled the covers back over her.

        Jackson looked at his pocket watch, catching William's attention.  "My room's down the hall," He told him, "Undoubtedly the bed's made up.  You can sleep there tonight, I shall sit up with her."

        "Are you postive?  You may need help..."

        William shook his head, inclining his head towards the bed, "If I remember correctly, she's not a pleasant person to be around when waking up.  And I suspect, the pain shall make it worse by ten-fold."

        Jackson chuckled, nodding, "All right, then.  Good-night, Will."

        William absently bid him good-night, sitting down to wait.

        A Slayer's first duty is to her Watcher.  She must always report, confide and share all with the man appointed to guard over her.  Protection is essential, for the Watcher must never be harmed...

        Erin moaned softly, pushing herself to her feet.  Somewhere behind her, her horse, Banat Er Rih nickered, and she looked towards her, crooning softly and reassuringly to her.  

        Erin looked around the field, frowning as she rubbed the back of her head, coming away with a bit of blood where she had struck it on a rock.  Was I unconcious?  

        She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to clear her blurry, pained vision, her head throbbing from the blow.  

        She suddenly froze, her heightened Slayer senses picking up the faint smell of coppery blood, and she whirled in the direction it was coming from.

        A harsh sob was jerked from her throat when she saw the body laying in the field, and she rushed to his side, dropping to her knees, "David...my lord..."  She tried to ignore the three slash marks along his stomach, his pale, gray intestines gleaming in the moonlight.

        "Oh...Lord..." Erin felt for a pulse, but there was nothing, and another sob was ripped from her.  She turned her head to the side when she heard hoofbeats and saw the demon they had been fighting grab David's horse and mount him.

        Erin was immediately on her feet and rushed her horse, leaping on without missing a movement.  With a shrill, amazonian war cry, horse and rider took after her foe...

        Erin ripped herself from her dreams with a scream, shooting straight up in bed.

        With the sudden movement, she managed to rip open the healing gash on her leg, and blood pumped from it, soaking the bedsheets.  Her eyes were blind and unseeing as strong hands gripped her shoulders, a voice shouting at her from what seemed like a great distance.

        She bucked in order to escape, and William's face was struck with the back of her head, and he stumbled backwards, clutching his bloody nose with a very ungentlemanly swear.  

        Erin seemed to calm down by herself as she collapsed back on the bed, but that was only from the weakness of lost blood and the drugs she had been given.

        William watched her warily as he bent and swiftly replaced the bandages on her leg, making sure to keep them tight to staunch the fresh flow of blood.

        She looked up at him with unfocused eyes, "David...?"  She managed to gasp out painfully, and William shook his head, feeling her forehead.  The fever was back again.  "No, Erimentha.  It's William."

        "William...?"  She repeated in confusion, her slightly addled mind unable to place the name at the moment, and he sighed, "Try to sleep, Erimentha.  You need your strength..." He instructed her, wary to put some more drugs in her system.  She didn't seem to be reacting to them all that well.

        He stood up to give her room, but her hand shot out and gripped his arm, "David, don't leave me," She pleaded weakly, her face flushed, and he sat back down beside her, "All right, Erimentha, if you promise to sleep."

        She nodded slowly, closing her eyes again, and he watched worriedly as she succombed to the confines of slumber, her hand still strongly gripping his forearm.  Why do I have a bad feeling about this?

        "We fear it was wolves, my lord..."

        William and Jackson stared at Nathienal Heine, the local constable, "Wolves?"  William repeated slowly, "My father..."

        "I am sorry, young William...but your father was killed..."

        William slowly nodded, closing his eyes with a deep sigh, "Thank you, Nathenial..."

        Dead...my father is dead...

        OW....

        Erin pulled herself from her dreams-wracked sleep, groaning in pain.  That is the last straw!  I refuse to be a Slayer any longer...

        She gingerly pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing with each motion.  She tried frantically to remember what happened, but all she could remember was falling...

        She looked down when she heard a soft sigh, and smiled, seeing David's darkhead at the foot of the bed, buried in his arms as he slept half-on the bed, the weight of his body resting in a precariously tipped chair.

        "David..." She called softly, and the figure grumbled, then froze briefly before lifting his head.  Her heart immediately fell into the pit of her stomach, "William?  Where's David?"

        William looked uncomfortable for a moment, sitting up, "Good, you're awake.  How are you feeling?"

        "Pain," She replied impatiently, "Where is David?"

        "He died, Erimentha.  He was killed..."

        Images flashed across the surface of her mind, her eyes snapping shut.  She could see David flying backwards through the air, the demon advancing on him, and then everything had gone dark...

        "I'm sorry..." Erin whispered softly, unable to meet his gaze, "I was too protect him..."

        "You had a hard enough time protecting yourself," William nearly groaned.  He hadn't really meant to put that much of an edge to his voice and Erin flinched, pointedly not looking towards him.

        "You have been asleep for several days now," He told her, standing up, "Your wounds will heal, but I fear there shall be some scarring."

        Erin lifted the sheet, wincing at the sight of her leg, "Thank you..."

        William glanced towards the door, "I shall leave you to your own devices, then?"  

        Erin didn't answer, and he took that as consent, and began to walk out, "I am sorry about your father, William," Her soft voice barely reached his ears, but he heard, nevertheless,"It was not your fault, I am sure, Erimentha.  It is part of the danger of being a Watcher..."

        "Who shall replace him?"  Erin looked up at him almost shyly, and William could only shake his head, "I know not.  The Council will decide that."

        "Is there a chance it shall be you?"

        William frowned slightly, "I have not finished my training as of yet, so it seems unlikely."

        "Oh," Erin looked away as he slipped out the door, and she lay back down, wincing, but was unable to fall back into sleep.  She stared up at the ceiling instead, morosly following the thin cracks and whorls, sighing deeply.  I am sorry, David...

        William rubbed his eyes wearily as he sat across from Jackson, pouring over his father's journals, "This is a mess," He gestured at the journals, "The council would be disgraced by this!"

        "By what?"  Jackson asked curiously, and William sighed, "The free reign with his Slayer, of course, I mean," He held up a journal, "A suitor! She has a suitor!"

        "Had one," Jackson pointed at the journal resting next to his elbow, "He got eaten in that one."

        "Bloody priceless," William shook his head, and Jackson raised an eyebrow, "Why is it so bad to let the Slayers have a little fun?"

        "Sacred birthrights..."

        "Yes, sacred birthright, slated to die before they reach their twenties...and on, and on and on...that does not matter, Will.  Hell, I'm surprised more Slayers do not go insane from the strain put on them!  I know I would if I wasn't allowed to do a bleeding thing!"  

        "That is besides the point.  How is she to concentrate on her slaying..."

        Jackson rolled his eyes, "What did you do?  Read the handbook cover to cover?"  He held up his hand, "Never mind, don't answer that.  I already know you did.  But you cannot deny, despite the methodology used in training her, that she was exceptational.  She had a bleeding leg wound for, Christsakes, and she still managed to kill that Flake..."

        "Fliak," William corrected, sighing, "That is a good point..."

        "Good?  Just good?"  Jackson grinned, "I'd say it was a great point."

        "Hush up," William grumbled, looking up when Jackson suddenly got to his feet.  "You shouldn't be out of bed."

        William turned in his seat, catching Erin's confused look towards Jackson, then she glanced towards him, "The demon...did I kill it?"

        "Yes...you did.  Very well, I might add," William told her, quickly hiding a sheath of papers in his lap, but she caught the movement, "What is that?"

        "Letter to the Council," Jackson told her, smiling widely at the pretty girl, "Telling them about your current...predictement."

        "The Council..." Erin scowled taking the seat Jackson pulled out for her, "Lord, must they get involved in this?"

        William raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat, "You have a problem with the Council?"

        "Hmm..." Erin looked thoughtful for a few moments, "They ripped me from my mother's arms when I was a babe...stuck me in a strange house, in a strange country.  Forced me into a life I did not want or need...yes, I'd say I have a bit of a problem with them."

        Jackson burst out laughing, "Oh, I like her," He told William, shaking his head, "She's pure hell-fire."

        "And you would be?"  

        "Oh, Adam Jackson.  Everyone just calls me Jackson."

        "I'm Erimentha, but everyone calls me Erin.  Except him," She inclined her head towards William, "He prefers to torture me with my full name."

        "You seem to be in a better mood," William remarked drily, ignoring her last statement, and Erin sighed, "No, not really."

        Jackson shot a look at William, "How is your leg and back?"

        "Sliced, diced and mangled," She replied, wincing as she shifted on her seat, "Of course, I think that was fairly obvious."

        "Unfortunatly," Jackson offered her a sympathetic smile and got her a glass of brandy to relieve the pain somewhat.  

        "Must you send that to the Council?"  Erin asked, and William nodded, "You need a Watcher..."

        "Can you not serve as mine?"

        "I already told you.  My training is not finished."

        Erin sighed and Jackson raised an eyebrow at his friend, "Will...refusing a woman a simple request?  Shame."

        Both Erin and William glared at him, "Mr. Jackson, I will thank you not to refer to me as if I am not an equal."

        "Sorry.  But Will, come on, you know that you could pass the final examination blindfolded."

        Erin looked towardsh him hopefully, but William shook his head, "Jackson..."

        "He's one of the best in the class," Jackson informed Erin proudly, "He knows more then most of the instructors..."

        "Really?"  

        "It doesn't matter," William interrupted, hoping his friend would stop helping, "So, I know the books.  That doesn't mean a thing.  How am I too pass the physical?"

        "William, you were training with me since I was old enough to lift a stake, and I still have a few scars from our early endeavors.  You could only have improved."

        William gave them an exasperated look, running out of excuses.  "Did it ever occur to either one of you that I don't want to do it?"

        "Oh," Erin looked chastined while Jackson looked disappointed, "I am sorry, William, of course.  How very rude of me.  You still want to pursue a career in medicine..."

        William nodded, "And as crass as it sounds, my father's death finally opens up that door for me."

        Jackson glanced towards Erin, who stood with a wince, "Forgive me, William.  It was not my place to impose such a thing upon you."

        William nodded firmly as Erin limped out, and Jackson shot him a look that clearly told him he thought he was crazy.

        "Six years, you've been slaving over those books..."

        "And I don't plan to do it for another six."

        "She won't live that long," Jackson shrugged, "She's sixteen.  Odds are, she's got two-three years left at best."

        "That's two-three years I can be studying something a little more worthwhile."

        "Yes...medicine.  Tell me, what's the cure for the draining of a victim, oh, great Doctor?"

        William glared at him, slamming his father's journal shut, "What are you getting at, Jackson?"

        "I thought it was fairly obvious.  As a doctor, you would be saving lifes, yes...however, as a Watcher, you'll be saving the world."

        "No one can save the world..."

        "Did you read this journal?"  Jackson flipped one towards him and William just barely caught it. "Or this one?  Or this one?"  

        William sighed, removing his gold-wire rim glasses and polishing them, "I stand corrected," He returned the glasses to his face, "However, it is not what I want too do."

        "Stubborn bastard," Jackson muttered, looking in the direction Erin had gone, "Shame really.  Has to leave her home again, probably be relocated to another country," He said absently, but pointedly.

        William glanced at him sharply, and Jackson held up a snifter, "Another brandy, Will?"

        Erin winced as she tried to flex her sore leg, cursing beneath her breath.  "Damn demons...and damn, bloody Watchers..."

        She picked up a brush, and hobbled towards the stall of her horse, Banat Er Rih.  "Hello girl," She whispered in a soothing voice as the horse nickered and butted her head against her shoulder, "How'd you come out of this one?"

        She ran her hands down the horse's legs, feeling small scrapes, but nothing that would do any harm.  "You are one exceptional lucky horse," Erin observed as she began to brush Banat's silky coat, "How do you do it?  Are you just faster?  Or smarter?"  She shook her head, "Has to be the last.  What sort of insane person spends their entire life fighting demons and such?"

        Banat neighed softly, nuzzling at Erin's back, "See?  You agree with me," Erin rolled her eyes, sighing as she sat down on a bit of hay, leaning against the stall wall.  "What am I going to do, huh?"

        The horse stomped her foot, and Erin raised an eyebrow, "Oh, really.  That easy, is it?  Just take off?  Tried that once.  David nearly had my head for that, not to mention that awful vampire."

        Banat's ears turned forward as she seemed to listen to the soothing strains of Erin's voice.  This was a ritual between the two.  A girl and one of her only friends.

        "Perhaps they'll send me back to Germany," Erin mused, "I am sure there are plenty of vampires and such there.  Of course, I haven't spoke it in nearly fifteen years, but I am sure with a bit of study, it'll all come back.  Or France.  France is a nice place, I suppose.  Paris...Paris would be nice.  All those people and such.  Of course, you may not like the city, hmm?  No, of course not.  You're just a country horse, aren't you?"

        Banat stomped her foot again and Erin laughed slightly, "Right, of course.  Silly me..."

        Banat did it again, and Erin frowned, standing up.  She looked over the stall, nearly groaning when she saw William leaning against the barn doors.  "How long have you been standing there?"

        "A little while," William answered with a smile as Erin groaned again, "Since Germany."

        "Wonderful," Erin sighed, stepping out the stall and patting Banat's head, "Are you in the habit of spying on people?"

        "I wasn't spying," William replied, coming towards her, "You went missing and I tried to find you.  You really shouldn't be out here by yourself when you're injured.  A vampire does not have to be invited into a stable."

        "Pity that.  We lost three horses that way," Erin remarked, gathering up her brushes, "At least it seemed to stop when we got the sheep."

        "Sheep?  What sheep?"

        "Oh, right.  We should replace them.  That werewolf was quite ravenous."

        William shook his head with a sigh, deciding he really didn't want to know.  "How are you feeling?"

        "Better, I suppose," Erin smiled, "Banat Er Rih is a very relaxing companion."

        "Banat Er what?"

        "Banat Er Rih," Erin shook her head, "It's Bedouin for 'Daughter of the Wind.'  It's what they call their war horses."

        "Ah.  I see you have had a bit of education."

        "Some," Erin shrugged, "David allowed me to study...the womanly pasttimes," She rolled her eyes at that, "I carry a very 'man-like' responsibility, and yet, I'm treated as a simple woman.  Strange, do you not think?  If any of the young men in the village were to be confronted with the sights I see everynight, they would either be killed or simply die from the shock of it."

        William raised an eyebrow as Banat reached her head out of the stall and tried to nip him, "You don't think highly of men, do you?"  He asked, shooting an annoyed glare at the horse.  

        "I did not say that," She shrugged, "Most men.  Not that it matters, too much.  My contact with them are confined mostly to the ones with facial ridges anyhow."

        "No, I'm interested in hearing it.  Why most men?"

        "Most men, I suppose, are well enough," Erin sat her brushes down in the corner and returned to his side, saving him from Banat's hostilities as the horse turned her attention to her, obviously adoring her mistress, "However, I am not interested in men who think they are better because they are simply men..."

        "Considering you can beat them till an inch of their lives fairly easily."

        "Violence does not make the man," Erin replied, "It is is the prinicipal of the man.  Good, kind, understanding..."

        "One who doesn't ask too many questions about where his wife is at night?"

        "Oh, grow up, William," Erin shook her head, a slightly morose look on her face as she went to walk past him.  

        He grabbed her arm, stopping her, "What's wrong?"

        "You know that's never going to happen," She pulled free from him, "And I do not like being reminded of it."

        William frowned almost in confusion, then mentally slapped himself in the face.  He had almost forgotten she was a Slayer.  She seemed like a normal girl, just standing and speaking with a friend and her horse.  "I'm sorry.  It was very...uh..."

        "Rude?"  Erin suggested, and he sighed, "Yes, rude.  I'm a bad, rude man."

        "Not a man yet," She smiled slightly, "Still a bit of chubbiness in the cheek area, and you are still immature."

        "I'm immature?  Who is the one talking to an animal as if it were talking back to her?"

        "She's a good listener," Erin sounded a little snippy, "There's nothing wrong with that.  So,  I like to speak with someone besides David once in a while..."

        "You're lonely," William shook his head, "That's all it is, isn't it?  You're lonely so you talk to animals.  That's a bit....sad."

        "Yes, well, that seems to be a common theme in my life."

        "Then leave," William shrugged, "I'll tell the Council you died, and you can go somewhere else, live another life..."

        "I have to die for another Slayer to be activated, and unlike some people, I cannot simply turn my back on my birthright," She stepped around him, stiffly heading back to the house.  

        William sighed, leaning against the Banat's paddock, "Well," He glanced at the horse, "That went well," he muttered, looking back at Erin's retreating form.

        Banat only shook her forelock and nipped his shoulder roughly, "OW!  Demon beast!"

        William stared down into the open grave of his father's nervously tapping his foot as the priest said a few words before they lowered the coffin into the ground.

        He lifted his head, trying to see past the thick, black veil that covered Erin's features.  The cemetary was nearly empty of mourners except for him, Erin and Jackson.  She hadn't spoken to him since their 'confrontation' in the barn, and he had noticed the subtle signs of preparation for a change of residence.  Mostly her gathering up David's old books and packing them away to be shipped with her to her new Watcher.

        Like chattel.  To be shipped everywhere she's told to go...

        He shook his head slightly as Jackson tapped him on the shoulder, leaning towards his ear, "You're staring, Will."

        "Huh?"  William tore his gaze away from the shrouded girl and to his friend, "I was just thinking."

        "About what?"

        William glared at him, guessing what he was insinuating and Jackson held up his hands in surrender, falling back into silence.

        After a few minutes, their respects paid, they walked back towards the carriage, and he noticed that Erin kept her head bowed the entire time.  

        "I'll be returning to London tomorrow," He told her as soon as they got underway.  "Jackson is going to stay a few days and clear things up here."

        Erin didn't answer him as she lifted her veil to look out the window, and Jackson raised an eyebrow in his direction, and William sighed.  "I'll try to be back before the snows come..."

        "It is all right," She finally spoke, her voice subdued, "Just let me know where I am to go.  Everything is ready for me to move."

        "I'll be back," He repeated, and Erin nodded, falling back into silence.  William shook his head, leaning back against the seat, trying to ignore the thick silence in the carriage.

        Erin leaned against the window, closing her eyes, and William watched a single tear escaped the closed lid and slid down her cheek unnoticed by everyone, save him.  

        "It is a pity about your father," Malachi Withers told William as they walked down the long corridors of the Council Headquarters.  "He was a fine man and a damn good Watcher."

        William nodded, a little bit in awe.  He was actually in the innerchambers of the Council!  Despite not wanting to be a Watcher, he was still impressed by the fine furnishings and the obvious wealth of the place.

        "We recieved your letter the day before last, and we are already in the process of choosing  a Watcher for your father's Slayer..."

        "Erimentha," William said automatically, and Withers looked at him sharply, "What?"

        "Her name.  It's Erimentha Gillian," He seemed to shrink a little under the older man's scathing glare, "I just thought..."

        "We're interviewing them now before we give one of them his new post," Withers broke in, gesturing for William to precede him into a room, and William shook his head slightly, but he obeyed.  

        Withers seated him near the back as he went towards the Elders who were interviewing a Watcher, an old man that William didn't reconize.  He looked towards the other candiates, noting they were all of the same age bracket.  Namely, ancient to nearly dead.

        "Johnathan Kirby," An Elder was looking down at a sheet of parchement, "If we choose to give you this Slayer, please outline a training schedule."

        The Watcher currently under-fire straightened his back.  "She shall wake at four am for two hours of training before breakfast, one after.  Half an hour for rest, then extensive study of the handbook and demonology texts till supper.  Three hours of training afterward, mediation for two, dinner, then patrol until two am."

        William raised an eyebrow, "I guess sleep isn't an option," He muttered, but unfortunatly, the room had quite an echo, and his voice was heard by all, and every set of eyes in the place turned on him.  Oh, damn...

        "So-sorry," He said sheepishly, sighing in relief when the eyes turned away from him.

        He listened the interviews, shaking his head at each one, mentally discarding them.  They wouldn't last a week with Erin, he was sure of that.  Either that, or break her spirit.  

        Good God, these people are inhuman, he thought as one prospective Watcher outlined methods of punishment.  Flogging?  For disobendience?  She'll break the paddle over his head!

        He couldn't take much more when one actually suggested making her sleep in a shack, sticking to the strict rule in the handbook that all Slayers must remain devoid of property and comfort so that her abilities remained at a peak level.

        Finally, he stood up, "Excuse me..."

        All eyes turned towards him again, and he lifted his chin proudly, "None of you obviously know anything of this Slayer."

        "We know enough," One of the Watchers answered, glaring at the impudent young man, but William only shook his head, "Do you?  Do you know that she's quite intelligent and resourceful and strong?  I watched her kill a Fliak demon that murdered her Watcher, sliced her back and leg up, all without missing a step.  She was delirous with fever for a week afterward, yet, as soon as she broke it, she was out of bed, ready to slay again.  She's exceptational, and the methods you have all suggested won't improve her a whit.  You all will only end up diminshing her capacity!"

        The Elders exchanged a look as the one of the candiates glared towards him, "Who brought this boy here?  He has no place!"

        "His father was David Giles," Withers replied steely, "He has a right to be here."

        One of the Elders stood, and the others fell into silence, "By all means, Mr. Giles, what do you propose would be a better method to improve the Slayer?"

        "In my opinion, she needs no improvement, only guidance.  Not one of your choices has mentioned that.  It's all well and good to train and punish her, but perhaps actually speaking with her is out of the question?  After all, I suppose any type of human contact is against the handbook, is it not?"

        One of the Watchers laughed, shaking his head, "You're naive, little boy.  Leave watching to the men."

        "Enough of this," An Elder glanced towards an aide at the end of the table, "The Seer shall decide, as always, the one born to guide this Slayer...Erimentha."

        William sat back down with a sigh, knowing he had lost.  Withers leaned towards an Elder as an old, blind woman was brought in.

        She shuffled past each man, laying hands upon each one, murmuring to herself in a strange language no one knew.

        William watched miserably as the hunched-over woman stopped in front of the man who had brought up the shack, shaking his head, great...just bloody great...he thought, nearly shuddering at the thought of Erin being forced to sleep on the hard, cold ground.  He'll break her.  He'll treat her like an animal and he'll break everything beautiful and sweet about her...

        He looked up in surprise when someone touched him, nearly flinching at the sight of the eyeless holes staring straight at him.  The Seer touched his face, feeling along the sharp planes of his cheekbones, still murmuring in that strange dialect of hers.  

        "He's not a candiate!"  Someone protested, but the Elders glared at him, effectively silencing him.  

        The old woman dropped her hands, "It is he."

        "But...I'm not a Watcher..." William protested, then jumped when Withers was suddenly at his side.  "You are now, Son."

        "But I don't want to be a Watcher!"

        "By all means," Withers gestured at the others, "Pick another to take your place."

        William nearly groaned, "Oh...hell."

        "You made many enemies tonight," Withers told William as he escorted the now-Watcher to the carriage house to return back home.  "Soon, some of those men will be taking positions as Elders, and both you and your Slayer will find things to be very difficult."

        My Slayer...William nearly shook his head at the thought, but caught himself in time, "Why me, Sir?  I didn't even finish my schooling..."

        "You were chosen, just as the Slayer was chosen.  When a Watcher dies, another takes his place, and only the Seer can determine who is worthy to 'guide,' as you so appropiately put it, the Slayer in the difficulties of her forced occupation."

        "I'm not ready," William shook his head, "I'm not a Watcher.  I never wanted to be one."

        "Yes, but I am sure that this Erimentha of yours feels the same, yet she does her duty, does she not?"

        William nodded slowly.  "I cannot turn my back on my birthright," He quoted, remembering Erin's words in the barn quite clearly.  

        "You did me proud tonight, young William," Withers continued with a smile, "Nothing warms the cockles of my heart like the sight of one of my boys standing up for what he believes to be right for a Slayer.  Your father was the same way."

        William felt a slight surge of pride as he looked at Withers, "She's going to die, isn't she?"

        "Of course she is.  It is the fate of a Slayer."

        William turned his eyes away, "It is not fair to her, sir.  She does not deserve this life."

        "Neither did mine," Withers laid a palsied hand on his shoulder, "It will be hard, William, when her time comes, but, unlike those other arrogant bastards, I am sure you will make her time here as happy as possible.  A Slayer and a woman deserves no less."

        William fell into silence as the carriage pulled up and Withers gave his shoulder a squeeze before turning and heading back into the night.

        When William arrived back at his estate, he was greeted to the sight of a trunk in the foyer.

        Erin came down the staircase, pulling on a pair of gloves, then fixing a hat on top of her head.  She saw William and smiled wanly, "Where am I to go then?"  

        "No where," He said gruffly, dropping his bag on the floor, shaking his head.

        Erin looked confused as Jackson came down behind her, raising a curious eyebrow in his direction.  "What's this then, Will?"

        William took his time answering as he loosened his tie and removed his coat, "I'm your Watcher."

        He jumped in surprise when Erin pratically leapt at him, throwing her arms around his neck, "Oh, thank you, William!"  She fairly yelled, and he couldn't help but smile at her estatic reaction, "I owe you my life!"

        He patted her on the back hesistantly, throwing a look up at Jackson, who was grinning widely, "Knew you'd come through, ole boy."

        William only shook his head as Erin let him go, gazing at him with wide, brilliant green eyes, "Thank you," She repeated softly, "I knew you didn't want to do this."

        William's smile faltered a bit as he looked down at her, "No...maybe not.  But I can't run, now can I?"

        She glanced towards Jackson, "Would you help me with my trunk?"

        "What?  You're stronger then I am!"  He protested good-naturedly, and Erin arched a finely shaped eyebrow, "A lady carry her own trunk?  Inconcevible!"

        "Look at what you forced me to stay with for a week, Will," Jackson complained, "I've done more fetching and carrying then I've ever done in my life."

        "My sympathies," William said insincerely, and Jackson rolled his eyes, grabbing Erin's trunk,"Forget the vampires.  You two are the evil hell-beings."

        "I'm impressed."

        "You better be," William grumbled as he walked beside Erin.

        "I am, truly.  You were like a professional."

        "Not reassuring, Erimentha."

        "Well...I'm sure she was pleased..."

        "Can we not talk about it?  Please?"

        "You're far too modest...even with those clawmarks down your back..."

        "Do be quiet."

        "I think she liked you.  Did you get her address?"

        "That does it!  Next time, you're taking the succubus and I'm taking the demon!"

        "Sorry," Erin fell into silence, then blurted out, "Was that your first time?"

        "I hate you."

        As winter settled over the countryside, a calm sort of lassitude settled over the Giles household.  Nights were spent patrolling, save when a heavy snow was falling, effectively pinning the 'fodder' townspeople indoors and away from most harm.  Days were mostly spent in training exercises or recreations 'of the mind,' as William referred to them, making Erin roll her eyes and make gagging sounds.

        One such night, William was engrossed in a book, and was distrubed by faint scratching sounds.  His hand immediately reached for the dagger concealed in his boot, but he relaxed, seeing it was only Erin standing in the shadows.

        He frowned, squinting to see her, "What in the world are you doing?"

        "Nothing.  Go back to what you were doing, don't mind me," She instructed him, and William shook his head, returning to his book.  He went to lean his head against his palm, "Wait!  Oh, you moved!"

        "All right," William slammed the book shut, his curiousity aroused, "What are you doing and why am I not allowed to move?"

        Erin came into the lighted part of the room, scowling, "You ruined the entire scene.  Men!  They cannot even sit still for five moments!"

        He saw the pad of paper in her hand as she sat down in front of the fire, raising an eyebrow, "You're drawing?"

        "No.  I'm writing an epic novel detailing the life of a Slayer.  Of course I'm drawing!"

        William shook his head, "Your sarcasm is at an all time high, m'dear."

        "Always," Erin shrugged, holding up the picture she had been working on, and he cocked his head, impressed despite himself.  "Well done.  Especially for someone sitting in a dark corner," he commended her, taking the pad from her and flipping through the detailed sketches.  "I was not even aware that you were able to draw."

        "A womanly pasttime," Erin sighed, "As David called it.  At least, I was able to get away from the endless flower bouquets he made me paint.  Lord, was that tedious."

        He handed her the pad back, "I draw a bit myself."

        "I know.  Little horses with uneven legs," She teased, remembering the pictures he had drawn when he was younger, and he scowled at her, "Not like that."

        "Teasing, Will, I'm teasing you," She turned back to her drawing, and he watched as lines and whorls turned into his face glaring at her, and he chuckled, "That seems true to form, doesn't it?"

        "Do you not know another expression?"  She asked, "You've the animation of a statue."

        "I have the animation of a statue?"  He asked in some surprise, his eyes widening slightly and she grinned, "Like that!  Hold that thought!"

        "You mean, the one when I'm fantasying about staking you?"

        "Well, whatever works for you," She shrugged, unpertubed, bending her head back over her paper.  

        He watched interestedly as she worked with an intentness he had ever rarely seen in her, smiling when she would frown and swear beneath her breath, rubbing out a line that did not work.  

        After a while, her body completely relaxed, her shoulders slumping a bit as her lips curled up at the edge a bit with a barely there smile.  Once in a while, her little, pink tongue would dart out to wet her lips.

        Unrealizing it, his gaze was fixed to her full, coral-colored lips as she blew a bit of charcoal dust from her drawing, forming a semi-pout.  He thought she never looked so beautiful in her current state of concentration, with the firelight playing across her features, deepening the shadows in the hollows of her face, while forming a sort of halo about her head.

        She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, leaving a black mark on her cheek, and he automatically leaned forward to wipe it away, and her head shot up, her eyes meeting his as his fingers paused on her cheek, the soft skin warm beneath his finger tips, their faces just inches from touching.

        William's mouth went suddenly dry as Erin's lips parted slightly and before he knew what he was doing, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers.  

        He leaned in a little farther, caressing her lips with his own as his hand cupped her cheek and Erin reciprocated, closing her eyes.

        William suddenly felt a jolt of reality shot through him and he pulled away abrubtly, nearly upsetting his chair, his eyes widening in shock and surprise.  In the next instant, he was on his feet and sprinting out of the room as Erin looked after him with a mixture of shock, hurt and confusion.

        "Idiot...half-wit...stupid, stupid, stupid..."  William paced his room, wearing a hole in the rug as he continued his litany, emphazing each word with a smack to his forehead with a balled up fist.  "Kissing her?  Are you completely daft?!"

        He tried furiously to ignore the raging hard-on tenting his trousers, gotten simply from kissing her, and it took all his will-power and common sense to keep from rushing back out there and taking her in front of the fireplace.

        "Stupid...stupid...stupid!"  He shook his head at himself, removing his glasses to swipe at his eyes almost viciously.  What in the hell was I thinking?  Oh, right...I wasn't, obviously.  Watchers don't kiss their bleeding Slayers!  It's simply not done!

        It was done, apparently, in his case, and he had no idea how to fix it.  He dressed for bed, still mentally cursing himself out in the process.  

        After laying in bed for nearly an hour, tossing and turning, and trying to think of decidely disgusting thoughts, it became obvious that his erection wasn't going to disappear on it's own.

        He closed his eyes, trying to think of anything else besides his redheaded charge, but as soon as he started to stroke his long, hard shaft, her image kept popping up in his head.  He finally gave in, unable to stop himself as he envisioned her kissing him again.

        He gasped as he gripped himself tighter, slowly pumping himself as he thought of her standing over him in the nude, her beautiful body a delightful pink, her full breasts heavy and begging to be held.  He had glimpses of her body before, when he had been taking care of her when she was sick, but he hadn't taken a moment to enjoy the view when he had a chance.

        His breathing came in rapid pants as he envisioned her small, talented head gripping him as she had her charcoal, her fingers running along the soft skin, inciting him to passion, and he moaned, almost able to feel her breath on his face as she rose over him, slowly impaling herself on his hard cock.  

        Christ...Erin...Slayer...

        He could almost feel her hair tickling his face as he rubbed his fingers over the tip of his penis, the head weeping a bit as he imagined slowly pumping into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands locked over his neck as she stared up at him, her eyes shining brilliantly for him, only for him.  

        William gasped out her name in a new litany from the one before, his strokes speeding up as he built himself up to orgasm.  He could see the flush spreading across her face as she cried out his name, her muscles clenching around his member, her mouth opening to invite him in as they joined their bodies in two places, her hips raising to meet his, grinding against him as she sought friction.

        His entire body was enflamed with visions of her as he called out her name loudly as he exploded, soaking his nightclothes in sweat and cum as he continued pumping himself, prolonging the sensation for as long as possible, till it was almost painful to do.

        He finally stopped, completely spent as his rigid body relaxed against the mattress, but he could only stare up at the ceiling, unable to sleep despite being worn-out.  I'm damned, he thought dimly, I'm damned and I can't even touch her...

        Things were quite a bit awkard between Watcher and Slayer, and William could barely bring himself to look Erin in the eye.  However, he had no problems looking at her when she wasn't paying attention.

        True to his occupation, he watched her.  He watched her as they slayed together, and he'd watch her as she drew, painted, read, ate, rode, mediatated...he was starting to see a pattern, at any rate.

        This is not good...he thought as he doodled in his journal, watching as Erin did a series of kicks and flips, wearing a pair of trousers for free movement.  Her thick hair was pinned on top of her head, a few strands falling loose to fall in her face, and he smiled as she swatted at them in annoyance, turning his eyes back to his journal whens she glanced towards him.

        He nearly groaned, seeing at what he had been doodling, and slammed it shut.  "I'm going out," He muttered, standing and she threw him a curious look, "Where?  We're too patrol in an hour."

        "If I'm not back, go without me," He replied shortly, and she sighed, nodding, "Yes, my lord," She mumbled and he shot her a sharp look, but she had already turned her back on him to resume her exercises.

        Bloody hell...

        William sat in the back booth of the local pub, drowning his sorrows in a mug of beer.  Well, several in fact, and he still had a lot of drowning to do as he downed another, trying to drive Erin from his brain, hoping that the alchohol would dull his pain somewhat.

        He tapped his fingers restlessly against the leather cover of his journal, seriously debating on destroying it, as if it were the source of his current problems.  

        A girl with an ample bosoms filled his mug, leaning over his table to make sure he had a clear view down to the equator, "Yer a lonely one, back here, m'lord.  Would ye like some comp'ny?"

        William shook his head with a small scowl, "Just leave the bloody jug here.  I'll take care of myself," he muttered, and the girl shook her head, doing as he said and moved on to more likely tables.

        "You look like you got girl troubles, m'boy," a man with dark, shoulder-length hair and a Irish accent dropped in the seat across from him uninvited, and William lifted his head to be met with piercing, almost black eyes and he shifted a bit uncomfortably on his seat.  "What do you want?"  He asked as the man helped himself to the beer in the jug.

        "That never fails to amuse me how you English blokes can sit in a lovely pub, surrounded by beautiful women and lively company, and still want to sit in the back, staring at a book as if it as all the answers in the world," the man joked, "Then I said to  myself, what can a young man be so down about, and the answer, of course, is a woman."

        He leaned across the table, picking up the journal before William could stop him, his reflexes severly slowed down by the booze he had consumed.  The man tapped the journal against his chin thoughtfully, "So...this woman, my friend.  Is she beautiful?"

        William closed his eyes briefly, his mind conjuring up a vision of Erin riding across a field, her hair blowing around her head in the wind as she jumped a fence.  "Dangerously so," William muttered without thinking.

        "Ah," The man nodded with worldly wisdom, "That is the worst kind of woman.  What is it?  Not enough money for her?  No family connections...or are you just plain too frightened to pursue her?"

        Something flickered across William's face at the last, and the man nodded, smiling, "Never fear a woman, m'boy..."

        William glared at him as he finished off another beer, pouring himself a fresh one from the jug, spilling some of it on the table, "I'm not afraid."

        "Then what is the problem?"

        "Can't have her," William replied automatically, looking into the man's dark eyes, his honest face and soft, wheedling voice provoking him to talk, even though he would have prefered to be alone."

        "Not married, is she?"  The man laughed, "That's always a buggered up thing, isn't it?  To fall for a married woman."

        "Not married.  Never be married."

        "What?  Not a whore?!"

        William's arm shot out, and despite his drunken state, he was able to haul the man half-way across the table by the collar, till they were touching nose to nose, "NEVER call her a whore!  She's not a bleeding whore!"

        He easily broke William's grasp, but he was still grinning, apparently unperturbed by the attack, watching as William drank his beer deeply, his blue eyes narrowed, as if daring him to say anything more about her.

        "Then tell me...what is your name?"

        "William."

        "Then tell me, Will, what is she and why can't she ever be married?"

        William sighed, closing his eyes, "She's dying."

        "Sick, then?"

        "No," William shook his head, then frowned, his mind catching up with him only a little bit, "Just dying."

        The man looked mildly confused, then changed tatics, "And what, pray tell, is in here?"  He still held the journal in his hand, "Love letters she'll never see?"

        William didn't answer him as he drank some more, closing his eyes.  The man shrugged, then flipped open the book, smiling appreciatevely, "Now, that is pretty," He said, looking at a picture William had drawn of Erin, then flipped through it, "Oh, and a nice body too.  Did you ever really see her nude, or is this just wishful thinking?"

        "Saw her once," William sighed without opening his eyes, "Bloody perfect.  Everything about her...even with all the blood...she was bloody perfect."

        "Blood..." The man raised an eyebrow, "Interesting." He looked through the writings, then smiled widely, snapping the book shut, "You poor bastard."

        "Yes, poor bastard," William muttered, sounding sleepy as the booze took full effect on him, "Never be able to touch her though.  Bloody nuisance.  Waking up with sticky sheets all the time and having to wash them myself..."

        "See, now you're just rambling," the man pocketed the journal, standing up, "Well, Will, I'll be seeing you around.  You can count on it."

        William nodded, his eyes still tightly closed as he leaned against the table, feeling nauseous, and the man chuckled, striding out of the pub, his fingers stroking the leather of the journal in his pocket.  Now there is something you don't see everyday.

        William stumbled to the side of the road, falling to his knees as he retched into a ditch.  His head and vision was swimming, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of the danger of vampires and demons, and in his drunken state he was an easy target.

        He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the taste of vomit and beer bitter in his mouth as he forced himself to his feet.  He could feel the begginnings of a headache forming in his temples.  AGH!  Someone just kill me...

        He suddenly went rigid, hearing footsteps, and he lifted his head, seeing the glowing yellow eyes of a vampire, I didn't mean it!  Oh...bloody hell...

        Before he could move, the vampire's hand shot out and gripped him around the throat, his fangs descending towards the artery that was jumping with the rapidness of his heartbeat.  At the last second, William slammed his head forward into the vampire's face and blood spilled into his eyes as the vampire's fangs sliced into his eyebrow, blinding him.

        The vampire jerked back a bit, surprised that his prey was fighting him, and William managed to tear himself from his grasp, only to stumble backwards onto the ground.  The vampire growled, lunging towards him and William closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

        It never came.

        He opened his eyes just as a layer of dust settled over him, and he looked up to see Erin perched on her horse, crossbow resting lightly on her knee, an amused expression on her face, "Really, Will...is your life really all that bad?"

        He groaned as he flopped on his back, blissfully passing out before she could get a couple of really good jibes in.  

        Erin rolled her eyes and climbed down, then lifted him up, "Ugh...if you were planning on getting piss-drunk, you could have at least lost some weight," She complained, heaving him upwards so that he lay crosswise across her horse.  She grabbed Banat's reins, throwing the beast a stern look, "No bucking him off, Banat, cause I know that is exactly what you're thinking."

        The horse only stared at her and Erin sighed, "Right...talking to animals...insane," She muttered, leading the beast back towards home, "And Watchers, even more so."

        *The dreams keep haunting me.  They come every night, and in varying degrees of intensity.  Some are highly erotic and sensual, the others are less so, but none the less arousing.

        The Seer must have been insane to choose me, and me even more so for accepting this post.  And Erimentha...what am to do about her?

        Ever since I kissed her, things have been different, less comradely and more strained.  And damn me, everytime she looks towards me, I can barely resist the urge to take her in my arms and kiss her again.  I want nothing more then to forget I am her Watcher, and her a Slayer, destined to die young.  

        God help me, I think I love her...and I'm more the damned for it...*

        Angelus chuckled, relishing the delicious irony of it.  A Watcher lusting after his Slayer.

        "Will, my'boy, you are a poor bastard," Angelus leaned back, running his fingers across a ink drawing of Erin, laying on her stomach, delightfully nude, an innocent smile on her lips.  The only color were her eyes, which had carefully been filled in with a brilliant green that stood out on the white landscape of the paper, careful attention paid to the expressive organs.

        *To touch her would be my greatest pleausre...*  "Poor, poor bastard," Angelus repeated with another amused chuckle, "My pities to you, m'boy."

        William stalked through the entire house, opening and slamming cabinents and drawers as he searched.  "Erimentha!  Have you seen my bleeding journal?"  He called up the stairs, huffing in annoyance when she didn't answer him.  "ERIMENTHA!?"

        He stalked up the stairs, furious, not at her, but at himself.  He could not believe he had lost a book of such an important, Not to mention sensitive, nature.  He really hoped Erin hadn't found it, considering all the explaining he would have to do.

        "Erimentha!"  He knocked on her door loudly, "Just a moment, William," She called back to him as he leaned against the doorframe, raking a hand through his black hair and mussing it up.  

        "All right, you can come in."

        William opened the door, his eyes widening slightly.  Erin was sitting at her vanity, combing out the knots in her damp hair from her bath, clothed only in a thin, silk dressing gown that clung to her curves tightly.  

        Water droplets shimmered on the silk, and he could see through the wet spots in it to her pale skin, and he shuddered slightly, immediately aroused, thankful that she didn't look over at him as he took a few seconds to compose himself, "Uh...my journal...have you seen it?"

        "Your journal?"  Erin shrugged, glancing over her shoulder at him, "No, I haven't..."

        William swallowed heavily, turning his eyes away from his Slayer, looking at a neutral point in the room, trying to forget the sight of her damp gown revealing the darkness of her nipples through her gown, "Uh...are you sure?"  He asked stupidly, mentally cursing himself out, you're acting like a bleeding school boy.  Pull yourself together, man!  He mentally ordered himself, Just because she's pretty...and oh god...I can see her thigh through that slit...

        "Where'd you have it last?"  Erin asked, turning around again, much to his relief.  He could deal with her back, really he could.  

        "If I bloody knew that, I wouldn't be looking for it, now would I?"  He snapped unintentionally, but the whole situation was starting to grate on his nerves.  

        He winced when Erin turned around again, her eyes wide and wounded, her lips parting in surprise by his outburst.  "I'm...sorry.  I was just trying to help," She whispered softly, and he caught the faint shimmer of tears in her eyes as she turned around, and he swore beneath his breath.

        "No, I'm sorry...it's just..."

        "What happened, Will?"  She asked softly, looking over her shoulder, her lower lip trembling slightly.  He groaned as a single, great tear dripped of the end of her long lashes, 'Jesus, Erin...I'm sorry I snapped."

        "It's not that," She shook her head as she stood up, and he unconciously took a step back as she did so, and it didn't escape her notice, and she sighed sadly, "I mean...just what happened?  Suddenly, you can't stand to be around me, or speak with me anymore...you go out to town to get drunk and nearly get yourself killed in the process...you're avoiding me...and you're avoiding..."

        "I'm not avoiding anything!"  He snapped again, and Erin closed her eyes briefly, inhaling sharply, "Yes, you are, Will.  I want to know why..."

        "You want to know why?"  He gestured at her a bit angrily, "That's why!"  

        She blinked in confusion, then put her hands on her hips, glaring at him, "What in the hell is wrong with me?"

        "Nothing!  That's the bloody problem!"  

        "Oh...I see..." Erin frowned, "Wait.  No, I don't.  What are you prattling about William Anthony?  You're confusing me!"

        William closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, "Forget it, Erimentha," He said tersely, turning to leave, "Forget I said anything."

        Erin on was him in a second, grabbing his arm and forcing him back as she slammed her door shut, "No!  We're going to talk and we're going to talk now!"

        Christ...does she have to look so good when she's angry?  He thought, staring at her.  Her face was flushed, and her chest was heaving her fury, her fists clenching and unclenching.  He decided he really didn't want to talk about it.

        "Just leave me alone, Erin."

        He tried to get past her, but she grabbed his arm once again, "William, please...talk to me," She pleaded, "I want to know what's wrong..."

        "You know what's wrong?"  He leaned towards her till their faces were nearly touching, "This is what's wrong...I can't stop thinking about you...I can't get you out of my head.  Everywhere I look, you're there, haunting me.  My dreams, when I'm awake..." His hand rose to touch her face, but it froze in mid-air, and he closed it into a fist, nearly grunting in frustration, "I'm leaving, Erin.  I'm resigning as your Watcher..."

        Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, "Why...?"

        "Why?  WHY?!"  He shook his head in disbelief, "Because this is wrong!  I'm your bloody Watcher!  I'm not supposed to...to..."

        "Care about me," She whispered, bowing her head, casting her eyes to the ground, "You're not supposed to care..."

        He inhaled sharply, "No, that's not what I meant..."

        Erin dropped her hand, taking a step away from him, unable to meet his eyes, "Please, don't leave me," She pleaded softly, "I need you..."

        "No, you don't," His voice was harsh, "You can't give me one reason why you need me other to stay here."

        "I love you..."

        Of all her possible responses, he wasn't expecting that one.  He gaped at her as she lifted her head, her eyes finding his, and he could see the self-conciousness in them.  Jesus bloody Christ...she means it!

        "Erin..."

        "I know you don't, Will...but..."

        William stepped towards her, silencing her by smashing his lips against hers.  She jumped almost in surprise, then leaned more into him as his hands dug into her thick hair.  

        His lips played against hers, nearly groaning as her soft, pliant lips opened to accept him, and he slipped his tongue into her warm, moist mouth, already knowing he had gone past the point of return once he got a taste of her sweetness, with the promise of more to come.  

        He moved his lips across her face and down to her jaw, raining small kisses down to the long, pale column of her throat.  Her eyes fluttered shut as she held his head against her, her skin flushing beneath his ministrations.  

        One of his hands fell from her hair to cup a full breast and she moaned, arching into him, her nipples hardening into stiff pebbles, and the fabric of her robe rubbed against them, and she flushed even more, her head falling back.

        William grasped the ties of her robe, his eyes darkening as he loosened it, the fabric falling away to reveal her soft, full breasts and he slid the robe down, kissing one of her shoulders as it fell to the ground, pooling at her feet.

        She gasped, her eyes widening when his mouth fastened over a nipple, and her fingers slid farther into his hair.  Liquid fire raced down her veins and straight to her womb, making her shift almost uncomfortably, her virgin body unused to such sensations.

        William returned his lips to hers, arms sliding around her waist to hold her closely against him as he hungrily devoured her lips.  She jumped in surprise when his erection came into contact with her stomach, pressing against her, and she blushed furiously, "William..."

        He pulled back a bit to look at her, and he could read the slight fear in her eyes, and sanity reasserted itself.  He had just been ready to take her virginity, and he hadn't even thought about what she might have to say about that.

        "Shh," He carressed her cheek, kissing her forehead tenderly, "It is all right, Erimentha...we have all the time in the world," He assured her, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, smiling slightly, and she answered him with one of her own, still blushing a bit.  "I'm sorry..."

        "Don't apologize...never apologize for that," He replied, giving her a mock stern look, "You are a good, sweet girl..."

        She glared at him, and he chuckled, "...Woman," He corrected, "And I love you for that..."

        "You love me?"  She asked, casting her eyes down in a self-concious manner, and he smiled, "You know I do..."

        She lifted her head, kissing the side of his mouth, "Thank you, Will...for understanding..."

        "I'd wait an eternity for you," He promised, brushing his fingers across her cheek, before leaning down to kiss her again.  I'd wait a million liftetimes for you...my love...

        "Please, tell me where we're going," Erin pleaded, stumbling on an old tree stump, and William chuckled as he caught her before she could fall, taking the opportunity as a chance to wrap an arm around her waist, steadying her against him, "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise," He told the blindfolded Slayer, who looked towards the sound of his voice, and he was pretty sure she was glaring at him even though he couldn't see her eyes.

        He finally stopped them on a small hill, putting down the basket he had been carrying, then untied her blindfold, slipping it away from her face.  She looked around the huge field, covered in stiff grass and the wild flowers of spring.  From the hill, she could see the town in the distance, smoke raising from it, and behind her the thick, deep forest, and she smiled, "It's beautiful..."

        "Thought you'd like it," William said cheerfully, laying down a blanket, gesturing for her to sit.  She eyed him almost mistrustfully as she did so, watching as he took some food out of the basket.  "You cooked?  I'm frightened."

        "You cooked," He corrected, "I raided the larder."

        "Oh!  I was saving that!"  She sighed as he set out some cold chicken, and he chuckled, sitting down beside her, "For what?  A special occasion?"  He asked, "Well, Happy Birthday, love."     

        "You remembered.  How very unlikely," She teased him as he pulled out a box with tissue paper around it from the basket, handing it to her.  She took it with a small smile as he laid down, propping his head up on his elbow so he could watch her as she opened it.

        He smiled as her eyes brightened and a wide smile filled her face as she looked up at him, "Thank you, Will!  How did you know?" She asked, running her fingers over the set of watercolors and oil paints, and he shrugged, "Well, your other supply was low..."

        "You were going through my things?"

        "You're bloody hard to shop for!"  He smiled mischeivously, "It's not my fault you hid them in the same drawer as your underthings..."

        "Agh!  You're incorrigible," She leaned over to smack him playfully, but he caught her hand and gave it a jerk, pulling her off-balance so that she was laying next to him.  He smiled down at her, using his free hand to brush her hair from her face, then kissed her forehead.  "You're so beautiful," He murmured, cupping her chin, his fingers careesing her skin.

        Her smile was sad, and he frowned slightly, "What is it, love?"  

        She sighed as he slid his arm underneath her head so that she could snuggle up against him, and she rolled to her back, staring up at the pale blue sky.  "I'm seventeen," She muttered softly as he leaned in closer to her, trying to catch her faint words.  "I'm already middle-aged in Slayer years..."

        "You have a lot of fight left in you," He replied, trying to sooth her fears, as well as his.  Hadn't he sat up late into the night, thinking the very same thing?  About how many years she had left and how much time they had together?

        "Maybe so...but it only takes one second...a fraction of a second...a fraction of a fraction of a second..."

        He kissed her forehead again, entwining her fingers with his, then kissing each of her knuckles, "You'll beat it.  You're strong, beautiful, fast, beautiful, intelligent, beautiful..."

        "I think I'm seeing a pattern to your thoughts, darling..." Erin sighed, still looking up at the sky, watching as the white clouds slowly floated past her, "Sometimes, at night, when I'm in bed...I wonder...will today be the last day I see the sky?  Or draw, or sing, or...or see you...kiss you...?"

        "I don't know what to tell you, Erimentha," William admitted sadly, "I think of the same thing...but we can't think about it.  Not like that.  We have to make the most of what we have..."

        Erin nodded, "I know, Will...but it's hard to forget...about the inevitable."

        They both lapsed into silence, and Erin closed her eyes, trying to stave back her tears, her hand clasping his tightly, as if to anchor her to the world.  "Live to borne, and born to die," William muttered, kissing the salt water that escaped her closed lids, and she shuddered slightly against him.

        He disentangled his hand from hers, and she opened her eyes when she felt something cool slide onto her finger.  

        She looked down at the small emerald ring, set with two pearls on either side of the round jewl, her eyes widening slightly.  "Will?"

        "Erimentha...forget about what's going to happen...just forget about how many years you have left and focus on this...this moment, this second..." He told her softly, clasping her hand once more, "Forget about everything but how much I love you...that I would die a thousand times for you, just to stay here in this moment for the rest of our lives..." He brushed his lips across hers.  "Forget everything but how much I need you and how much I would give to you..."

        "Will...are you asking me what I think you're asking me?"  

        He looked surprised as he stared down at her, watching as the tears continued to roll down her face, "Yes...but why are you crying?"

        "You can't want me," She shook her head, "I'm a condemned..." He stopped the flow of her words with a finger across her lips, shaking his head, "I do want you, and I don't care if we have twenty years, or even just a day..."  His look was anguished as he leaned over her, "I love you, Erin...please, don't refuse me just because you're worried about what is going to happen."

        Erin smiled slowly, but the sadness was still behind it as she nodded, and William closed his eyes as he laid back down beside her, pulling her against his chest, holding her tightly as silent sobs wracked her body, her hands clutching his coat tightly.  

        They lay there for hours, holding each other, staring up at the sky as the sun warmed them both, and William pressed his lips against the top of her head, never releasing his hold on his fiancee, as if by pure will, he could keep in his arms forever.

        And briefly, he wondered if he what he said was true.  That he would be content only with the moment and not the years.  I have to be...I have no choice but too...

        *To hold her...to touch her...it would be an exquisite pain and pleasure combined.  Pleasure to finally have her, to have her heart and soul...pain to know that it wouldn't last.  You can't keep a Slayer...you can only borrow her for awhile.  That is the way it has always been.  Fight, die...without being allowed to 'live' or to love.  It is against everything, it is against the Council, her birthright and God for her to do those two things, but it would be against her spirit to not do so.

        I want her to live, I want her to love.  I want to be the one who holds her as she is ripe with my child, face flushed as she brings a new life into the world.  I want to be the one holding her when she cries, or laughs.  I want to be the one she finally loves, the one she gives herself too fully.

        I want her to be mine in every concievable way...but it will never be.  She is Slayer.  I'm her Watcher.  Neither the twine shall meet...*

        Angelus rubbed the now-worn leather, the journal pages dog-eared from obsessive days spent extracting every word, every feeling and hidden meaning in the passages of the outpourings of an anguished man.

        He flitted across a cemetary, his dark eyes on the couple that walked together, careful to remain a certain distance from the pair.

        He watched the familiar way William reached out to brush Erin's hair from her face, muttering something that made the redhead laugh and dance from his grasp.

        He moved a bit closer to hear what was being said, and half-smiled when he heard William let out a growl, lunging towards Erin.  The Slayer let out a small shriek as he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her flush against him, resting his forehead against hers.

        His fingers dug into her hair as he kissed her deeply, both of their eyes closed.  Angelus watched as a vampire stalked them from behind, almost right on top of them.  He growled, his eyes narrowing, but Erin turned at the last moment, dusting the vamp successfully.

        William wrapped his arms about her, resting his chin on her shoulder as she leaned backwards into his chest, laughing softly, "They always think they can catch me by surprise," She said, shaking her head as William kissed her ear, "That they do, love."

        She turned around in his arms, kissing him chastely before escaping to resume her patrol, and Angelus fell back into the shadows, Well, well...my Will has been a busy chap, now hasn't he?  Good boy...now let the games begin...

        Erin smiled as she tossed an apple in the air, heading into the barn.  As soon as she stepped inside, the strong scent of blood struck her nostrils, and her eyes widened as she stared at the carnage surrounding her.

        Her heart skipped several beats when her mind finally caught up with the sight before her, and a scream was ripped from her throat as she collapsed to her knees.

        Banat's head was attached to the wall directly across from her, her eyes missings and the dark holes stared back at her as she struggled to breath through her desperate sobs.  

        William had heard her scream and had rushed outside, nearly skidding on a congealing pool of blood as he dropped beside her, pulling her against him and she buried her face in his chest, her grief striking him to the core as he looked about the corrupted barn.  Blood was all over everything, and horse parts were strewn about like grotesque party favors.  

        Something dripped on his hand, and he looked at the small spot of blood, his grip tightening on Erin as he looked upwards.  His blood chilled, feeling like ice-cold water in his veins.  Written in blood just above their heads were the words, 'I'm Watching You.'

        Jesus Christ...

        Drusilla danced about the house in an odd sort of rapture, and Angelus tried his best to ignore her as he read William's journal yet again.

        Drusilla leaned over him, plucking it from his fingers, wrinkling her nose in distaste, "Bad, bad Angel...always reading and not paying attention to his princess," She pouted at him, and Angelus rolled his eyes, "Give it back, Drusilla."

        "No," She whirled away from him in a flare of skirts, holding the journal above her head like an offering.  She suddenly froze, a smile curling her lips, "Such delicious pain..." She murmured, dropping her arms to caress the soft leather as Angelus had done so  many times since he had acquired it.

        Angelus reached forward to grab the journal, but once again, she evaded him, "What do you see Dru?"

        "Tears of the innocent...rip his heart in two," She said in a sing-song voice, swaying her hips in an erotic dance to music only she could hear, "Such beautiful things he whispers..."

        "Really," Angelus looked already bored with her ramblings.  He knew the Slayer was in pain.  She had probably just found the 'gift' he had left her.  

        Drusilla straddled his lap, lifting her skirts so that he could feel her lack of undergarments, shifting with a knowing smile as he hardened beneath her, brushing her cool fingertips across his angelic face.  

        "You want him," She whispered, coyly wriggling to get his full attention, waving the journal in his face, then tapped him on the nose with it as if he were a dog being punished, and he growled, gripping her hips and pulling her hard against him, "What of it?"

        "Naughty, naughty Angelus...lusting for a bad, bad Watcher," She reached between them and undid his breaches, gasping in pleasure as she impaled herself on his hard shaft in one swift movement.

        He gripped her hips even tighter, surging against her, his cold length filling her dead-womb, and she leaned towards him, bouncing on his lap with coos of pleasure, her vampiric visage coming to the forefront, "You want him, all of him, his heart, his soul, his pain..." With each word she uttered, he drove into her mercilessly, grunting as he nodded, "Yes!  All of him!"

        "Take him, my Angel," Drusilla murmured, "Take him for us.  To be ours forever..."

        "Yes...yesyesyes..." Angelus closed his eyes, fucking his Childe with abadon, knowing that each hard thrust caused her pain and knowing it gave her the more pleasure as his nails ripped into her back and tore the fabric of her binding bodice.  He fastened his mouth on her breast, tearing into it with his fangs as Drusilla screamed in pleasure, holding his head as he sucked hard at her tit.  

        He lifted his head, smearing her blood against her lips before smashing his down on hers, his fangs slicing into her tongue and lips, and she cried out, sucking down her own blood even as he did the same, her inner muscles suddenly clamping down on him and she screamed louder then before, so that even the hordes of hell heard it, and shared in her orgasm.

        As Angelus spilled his seed deep within her, he was imagining a certain raven-headed beauty being impaled by him, screaming his release to the world.  Mine...he will be mine...all mine...

        Erin's hands were shaking as William handed her some tea, her eyes cast to the ground.  He sat beside her, trying to sooth her by rubbing her back.  "What would do this?"  She asked softly, "This was...very deliberate..."

        "Yes, I know," William shook his head, "Whoever did this, we'll find them.  Do not worry about that."

        Erin nodded slowly, shuddering a bit at the memory of the words painted in wide swaths above them, "I don't like the idea of someone being able to see us, and us not being able to see them," She muttered, "It's...decidedly unsafe..."

        William nodded slowly, knowing that just as well as she.  

        "Whoever did this had to know that Banat meant quite a bit to me...not just as a horse, but as a friend..."

        "That's ridicoulous, Erimentha.  Who could have known about your..."  He suddenly tensed, "Oh...Bloody hell!"  

        "What?"

        "My Journal!"  

        "The one you lost several months ago?"

        "Yes.  I mentioned your attachement to that hell-beast..."

        "Hey, that hell-beast carried your drunk half-wit arse back here," Erin glared at him, and he sighed, "Sorry, didn't mean to disparage your horse," He rolled his eyes and Erin gave him a small shove, "What about your journal?"

        "If someone found it, it has...quite a bit of personal...things in it..."

        "Personal...what kind of personal?"

        "It's personal."

        "We've established that," Erin pointed out, leaning towards him, "What kind?"

        "Not telling," William asserted, crossing his arms over his chest, and Erin scowled, "We're not supposed to keep secrets from each other," She reminded him, and he raised an eyebrow, "When has anyone said that?"

        "Well...it was implied," Erin scrunched up her nose at him, and he smiled, thinking she looked cute like that, "Implied?"  He repeated, playing with her hair, "When was it ever implied?"

        "Are you trying to drive me mad?"  She asked in exasperation, shaking her head and freeing her hair from his grasp, and he grinned, pulling her against him.  "Is it working?"

        "Quite well," She grumbled, and he smiled, kissing her temple, "All you need to know is that I wrote some very, very, very personal things about you in my dreams."

        "Oh...oh!"  Her eyes widened.  He had confided to her about his dreams early on in their relationship, and she blushed to think that someone could possible be reading such things about her.

        He patted her hand affectionatly, then sighed, standing up, "I still have to post some letters in town," He shook his head, "Without the horses, I'm not going to be home till after dark..."

        Erin smiled wanly, shaking her head, "I'll walk with you.  Johnathan Derby owes me a favor, and he'll lend us a horse or two till we replace them.  We won't have to walk home, at any rate.  I wouldn't suggest taking them on patrol.  They're not trained to the things we face at night."

        William smiled, pulling her to her feet and kissing her briefly, "I'm proud of you," he murmured, meaning it, and she smiled, looking down at her clothes, "Let me change," She sighed, rubbing at the stains on her skirt from cleaning the barn up, "Damn.  Blood never comes out."

        Angelus frowned, watching as the couple laughed and walked down the street together, leading a pair of horses.  Apparently, his surprise hadn't really effected them all that much.

        He hated it when things didn't go to plan.  The Slayer was supposed to be a weeping, wailing mess, causing his Will pain with hers.  

        Obviously, he was going to have to go to plan B.  

        He grinned widely even as his eyes narrowed.  I have to destroy them first...

        "London?"  Erin peered at the letter, shaking her head, "Why in the world would the Council want to see me?"  

        William shrugged as she folded it, frowning slightly, "Are you going to go?"

        "Do I have much of a choice?" She sighed, leaning her head against her palm, "You don't suppose...they heard about us, do you?"

        "I doubt that's it, love," he assured her, "If it were, they would have asked for both of us...or probably just me so they could crucify me.  How often does a Watcher want to marry his Slayer?"

        "Good point," Erin sighed, "Are you coming with me?"

        "No...I'd love too, but someone has to keep an eye on things here...in light of recent events."

        "Right," Erin nodded with another sigh, relunctant to leave him alone, even if it were for a week, "You shall be careful, won't you?  Please, don't get hurt..."

        "Have a little faith in me," He scowled at her a bit, "I'm not a child."

        "Of course not," She soothed as he pulled her down onto his lap, and he sighed, "A week without you...whatever shall I do?"

        She smiled at him as she snuggled against his chest, "Oh, I'm sure you'll find something to do.  You'll probably have a great time without me."

        William buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, "Not likely," he murmured, not relishing the time he would spend without her.  He just hoped that whatever the Council wanted, it wasn't some big, world-ending emergency.  

        He couldn't stand to lose her...not now.

        William sighed at the silence of the house, wondering how he was going to last a week without Erin about to fill his time.

        He tried training without her, but soon found that to be boring and tedious with no partner.  

        Everytime he sat down, he would become restless and was on his feet once more, pacing the room, trying to conjure up images of her face to keep him company.  

        Unfortunatly, his mind, needing some sort of activity, turned to slightly morbid thoughts.

        If I'm like this after only a week of her absence, what in the hell am I going to do when she dies?

        He shuddered, pausing in front of the cold fireplace, the lack of chill to the air negating the need for a fire.  He closed his eyes, trying to imagine the loneliness that would assault him once her death came.  He thought he now had an inkling of why most Watchers didn't outlive their Slayers for long...at least, the good ones.

        He was already aching for her to smile and laugh at him, reaching out for a kiss, and she had only been gone since early that morning.  

        I'm never going to survive this, he thought weakly, shaking his head, unable to decide if he meant the week, or a life without her.

        Erin yawned as she looked around London.  She was horribly tired after a horrendously long carriage ride, and she felt like sleeping for a month.  However, the letter had told her that it was most urgent that she talk with the Elders as soon as possible.

        She followed the instructions in the letter, coming to the Council headquarters.  

        She raised an eyebrow at the large, opulent building, shaking her head, "Hypocrites," she muttered as she pushed the gate open, "Slayers are to live as spartan as a nun, and they gorge themselves on riches..."

        She knocked on the door, and it was several minutes before a servant opened the door, frowning, "Yes?"

        "Um...I here to see the Elders."

        "And you would be?"

        "Erimentha Gillian."

        "Just a moment," The servant disappeared for several minutes, leaving her by herself on the stoop, and she shook her head at the rudeness of being left outside on the step like some sort of common trash.

        Finally, an old man answered the door, looking ruffled and slightly alarmed.  "Erimentha?  Is something the matter?"

        "Uh...I was going to ask you the same thing..." Erin held up the letter, and Malachi Withers took it, frowning as he read it, "Young lady, we didn't send this..."

        Erin's eyes widened, and Withers raised an eyebrow as she swore profusely, "What's the fastest route back to Devenshire?  I need to be there...now!"

        William had gotten into the brandy on the third day of Erin's absence, sighing as he sulked in his chair, trying to concentrate on a book futily.  The words kept going in, but they weren't sticking and he finally tossed it aside in frustration when he realized he read the same paragraph six times.

        He was about ready to retire in bed when someone knocked on the door, and he perked up, hoping that perhaps Erin had returned home early.  

        He opened the door, and frowned, seeing a vaguely familiar man and an unknown woman standing there.  "Uh...may I help you?"

        "William Giles?  Don't you remember me?"  Angelus asked cheerfully, "Remember at the pub a few months back...?"

        "Oh, right," William shook his head slightly, "Well, just barely.  I was a bit in the cups at the time..." He frowned, "How did you know my name?"

        Angelus held up his battered journal, smiling, "You left this behind, m'boy.  I picked it up, but I've been out of the country since then, so was unable to return it to you," Angelus sighed, "I'm afraid it's been beaten up a little on the trip..."

        William pratically grabbed it from his hands, "Did you read it?"  He asked almost fearfully, glancing at the woman, who was staring at him with intensely black eyes, smiling coyly.

        "Of course not.  I know better then to read another man's outpourings," Angelus smiled beguiling, "Oh, and how rude of me...this is my...sister, Drusilla."

        "Charmed," She pratically purred, bowing, but William barely glanced at them as he flipped through his precious journal, making sure everything was still intact.  

        "Would you mind terribly if we came in?  It's a bit damp out here, with this damned Spring weather," Angelus muttered, and William nodded without thinking, "Yes, of course..."

        Angelus and Drusilla exchanged a triumphant look as they entered the house.

        Erin leaned over the horse's neck, her hair whipping around her face as she pushed the beast to the limits of her endurance.  

        Please, God...if you're up there...don't let me be too late for him...that's all I want...I need him...I need him to be alive...

        Tears burned her eyes as she thought of how stupid she had been.  The Council never dealt directly with Slayers.  It was vanity on her part to think that they wo