Chapter 18

Old Power

A/N: Chapter eighteen of the series. Tried to give Kennedy some kind of respect. Hope you liked the previous chapters.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Joss Whedon and the parties involved in airing the shows. Original characters are mine.

Feedback.: Sure, as you wish.

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Buffy stepped out of the elevator in Level 6 and walked towards Giles' office, her head hung low.

Truth to be told, she never really liked Kennedy but she still grieved over the loss of a slayer. She'd also felt a bit of a hypocrite when kissing he forehead, thinking such an honor wasn't meant for her. As the longest living slayer, it was her duty to lead such ceremonies. Later in the day, they'd have another one, a far more private one. She guessed Giles would have already gotten in touch with Kennedy's parents, and they should be on their way to attend Kennedy's burial in the Pantheon.

"We need to talk."

Buffy looked up and saw Giles, walking towards her, his face still sad. They walked into his office and she frowned when he sat at the War Center instead of at his desk.

"What is it?" She asked, following and sitting at her own station.

"Ms. Granger just told me Dawn called." Giles said. "I'm trying to get in touch with her."

"Good or bad news?"

"From what Ms. Granger said, I presume they were bad."

"Great."

"Seems our problems are about to pile up."

"Meaning?"

"Ms. Granger said Dawn talked about war starting soon." Giles sighed. "We have the FBI up our arse trying to connect us to the Cleveland incident. Angel is missing. Kennedy died."

"Wait. War? Soon?"

"That's what Dawn said." Giles replied, looking at the Locator Screen. "As soon as the coven recharges, they'll be brought back. You may want to be ready in case anything happens tonight."

"Been a very, very long day." Buffy huffed. "Anyways, I'll do my best."

Buffy stood and waved as she left Giles' office.

"You always do." He whispered. "You always do."

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Walking towards the elevators, Buffy took out her cell phone and dialed Annie's cell. After a few rings, her daughter answered.

"What's up, mum?"

"Hey kiddo, how are you?" Buffy kept talking as she stood in front of the elevators. "Found that errand father of yours?"

"Nope." Annie answered. "Didn't expect to."

"It's ok, dear." Buffy continued, waiting. "Say, is that annoying kid sister of mine there?"

"Yeah, wait up." The elevator arrived and Buffy stepped inside, and pressed the button marked '1'. As the cubicle began its ride down, Buffy heard Dawn's voice.

"Finally!" Dawn said. "I've been going crazy trying to find you."

"Kennedy died." Buffy replied.

"Yeah, I heard." Dawn said. She continued to speak but the signal on the phone began to fail.

"Dawn, can you hear me?" Buffy asked. She faintly heard a 'yeah' and something unintelligible. "Wait a minute, Dawnie, I'm in the elevator, let me get out." Buffy quickly pressed the button '2', hoping the elevator would stop as soon as possible, hearing her sister still yelling something.

He elevator's door swung open and Buffy quickly stepped out of it.

"What did you say?"

What Dawn answered made Buffy's blood run cold.

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Cleveland, USA

December 2017

Wesley still wandered the cemetery.

He'd taken a closer look at the battle site and he'd seen things he knew Illyria had paid no attention to. He'd seen Kennedy's face, where a bruise the size of a fist lingered. It wasn't big enough to have been made by a demon, so he figured it must have been a vampire.

Such deductions and the kind of power he'd felt assured him it had been an old and powerful vampire.

The thing twitched again, leading him in another direction. He looked at his watch and figured he still hade some time before dawn, meaning no innocent bystanders would wander the cemetery.

Wesley doubted the vampire had attacked without knowing Kennedy was a slayer. Vampires felt their natural enemy as well as a slayer did. That meant the attacker was experienced and had managed to best a slayer in combat.

More so, there were no bite marks on the slayer's neck. The vampire had knocked her unconscious, hence the gash on Kennedy's forehead, and had broken her neck.

He pictured the battle in his mind and the thing twitched with excitement. He tried to restrain it, but after months of holding back he felt too tired to resist.

Wesley howled, feeling revolted and yet joyous, as he wondered what he'd done to deserve such fate.

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As his mind stepped aside, allowing the thing to take over, he remembered his death, thirteen years ago. He clearly recalled the knife puncturing his stomach, tearing skin, muscle and nerves aside. Even more than the pain, he remembered Illyria's cold touch as she pretended to be Fred.

A sweet lie, but a lie nonetheless.

So he died, knowing hell awaited him. He didn't want to remember what he'd seen and what had happened while he'd been dead, but he was certain he'd attracted the bad kind of attention. Five years after his death, he'd been brought back in an attempt to recreate the Circle of the Black Thorn.

The previous members had seen something in him, his slow descent into darkness and they chose him as the perfect pawn in their vengeance against Angel.

Who better than a man who knew the enemy?

Who better than a man essential in their previous downfall?

He still remembered the first thing he saw when brought back. He'd woken up and had seen a white angel, looking down at him, and he felt his skin burn. He had looked down at his hands, and seen the color they now had. He couldn't understand what had happened or where he was. He only felt the grass burning his naked skin and the angel making him feel dirty and obscene.

He'd seen the white columns around the angel and saw the names engraved in them.

Doyle

Charles Gunn

Winifred Burkle

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

He'd read the name and recognized it as his own, and he'd remembered he was dead. Dead and gone.

He remembered the darkness and not being able to think straight, feeling the need to kill and destroy. He'd felt panic, thinking he'd returned as a vampire. He later would realize there were no fangs and no bloodlust.

Blinding light had covered him and he would remember nothing more. He didn't know what had happened until he opened his eyes one day and saw the same face to hold him as he died. Yet, they were blue, as well as the hair. Last time, they'd been hazel and the hair had been dark. He saw no love in them, but unending anger.

He'd tried to speak, but Illyria had her hands firmly locked around his neck, not allowing any air to escape to form words. He'd heard Willow's words and Illyria had let him go. As he fell down, he noticed his former friends lying around and looking at him as though he was the enemy.

He soon realized he was indeed the enemy. Angel was unconscious a few feet away, bleeding. Willow sported a black eye, Xander had a knife embedded in his shoulder and Buffy had an ugly cut beneath her left eye.

Illyria had taken him by the lapels of his jacket and had picked him up as a rag doll.

"Who are you?" She'd asked. Wesley had stared at her, unsure of what to answer.

"Who are you!" She'd asked again.

"I don't know." He answered. It had been the truth. He didn't know what he was anymore.

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As time went by, he'd begun to piece together the events and discovered something had returned with him. A gift from the Circle, needed in order to accomplish his mission. Willow had been kind enough to offer her assistance in figuring out what the thing was, since he discovered he had no heartbeat, didn't breathe and had other superhuman abilities.

He'd politely turned her down, wanting nothing but to forget what was happening. Giles had offered his job as a watcher back, but Wesley didn't feel comfortable because of what he'd done while under the control of the Circle. He took off, only to be joined later by Illyria.

He still couldn't understand why she'd come to him, but he suspected it was because either the Council figured she'd control him or he would keep her under control.

Wesley didn't care anymore, and truth to be told, he liked having her around.

He once again willed himself to take control over his body as he picked the sensations of power again, closer. He homed on it and was quite certain he'd felt such power before, when he'd been dead.

He found himself standing in a clear within the cemetery. There were no trees nearby and no tombstones or graves. He allowed the thing to rise, needing the strength it provided.

A shadow walked slowly towards him, and Wesley gripped the knife behind his back. The figure soon walked into the clear, and the moonlight revealed what Wesley suspected.

He stared, his face showing no emotion.

"I knew I'd felt that power before." He said.

"Welcome back, Spike."