Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire slayer and Angel, the characters and universe is the property of Joss Whedon, and is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

All seasons of Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel is canon, with some aspects but not all of the comics appearing as well. This comes about two years after the end of Angel, three years after the end of Buffy. I haven't really written much fanfiction before, and never any Buffyverse previously. This story is at first set tin the fictional town of Haven, a few hours from where Sunnydale was. However, I absolutely love Spike, and I hope I do him some justice. This isn't edited at all, so I apologize, I'm just releasing chapters as I have them, which I'll probably regret later if I want to change something. Thanks for reading, feel free to let me know what you think.

Prologue

Jade stood on the hill, looking over the graveyard. The mist sunk there, clouding the view, barely penetrated by the moon's bright beams. She was cold, hugging herself for some warmth through her denim jacket as her pale blue eyes scoured the scene. Her pale skin still held traces of dust, a light layer of grime. Her brown hair tumbled out of her ponytail in further disarray, but she was otherwise unscathed. She had won this night. She was alive. At least for now. She shivered, perhaps at the thought or at the cold, when she heard the distinct scraping of dirt beneath her. One hand moved to her hip, fingers resting on the hilt of her sheathed machete, but as she turned, she relaxed.

"Fyora." She spoke to the approaching woman, an eyebrow raised in curiosity at the cloaked figure. The woman was even smaller than Jade, standing at barely five feet, a couple of unruly curls sinking out from beneath her hood. The darkness obscured most of her face, except for her small mouth and cleft chin, but she knew her well enough to recognize her visible features. Jade knew her from the orphanage, the slightly strange keeper of the children who lived there. They weren't friends, but business and circumstance had caused them to cross paths from time to time. "Out for a midnight walk?" She continued, interest just cutting into her flat tone.

"Came to see you," Fyora answered, in a husky voice that seemed out of character in a person that was delicately small—despite being the supervisor of the orphanage, Jade knew the woman had been mistaken for an orphan herself from time to time. But size was deceiving, and Jade knew better than to make judgements based on that. There was in truth, something mystical about the other woman, something bewitching and otherworldly. But Jade hadn't pried, or investigated. She was aware enough to recognize it, but that was it. Jade wasn't in any position to judge the supernatural essence of others.

Jade narrowed her eyes slightly. She assumed Fyora was asking her to babysit, as she had before. There wasn't much of a board watching the largely abandoned Orphanage, and Jade had deigned to watch the kids from time to time—with a hefty fee. She wasn't much for children, but damning sympathy and the need for money broke through her resilient skin on occasion. "Another gig?" She spoke finally, deciding to not be too difficult about the whole thing—though she'd raise the price this time. The orphans were a troublesome bunch, who were far from the notion of 'normal', and she wanted her drudgery to be worth it. However, Fyora's earlier requests had usually come during the day, when Jade was working. Within the confines of a liquor store, not out here in the murky atmosphere of an empty graveyard "Came all the way out to the gra—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Fyora's hand shot out beneath her cloak. As fast as her reaction was, Jade only jerked her hand back, but not enough to escape Fyora's strong, wiry fingers enclosing around her wrist. Normally, it wouldn't have stopped Jade. Despite Fyora's strange aura, she was human, and Jade was something more. But she couldn't quite wrench her grasp away, feeling a strange wetness and dampness on her skin from where the other woman was holding her. Jade's eyes shot down, and even through the darkness, she saw the unmistakable color of the viscous fluid, the stickiness of it on her skin. Blood. "Let go," Jade was warning her, but her words died on her lips, as she looked back up to other woman. Her hood had fallen back, uncovering her face, and Jade could see the splatters of blood dripping down her face, her cheekbones. Her eyes were distant, unfocused, and sticky, blood-infused curls sprung around her face. "What the—"

Fyora's head tipped back, her mouth open as she chanted in empty monotone. "The young we'll chain, the small we'll drain. Drain, drain, drain. In the circle, they will die. Answer, answer their cry." Her impervious grip on Jade, that Jade had still yet to break, finally loosened, and the cloaked figure crumpled to the ground. Equal parts alarmed and horrifically fascinated, Jade knelt with her. For all of Fyora's violent grip, she didn't seem dangerous. Unable to satiate her curiosity, Jade reached out for the woman, whose head had tipped back. "What—" Jade tried again, her half-muttered word interrupted as Fyora's chin slowly swung down, eyes still wide and unseeing, once more reaching towards Jade and with a shaking, bloody finger, she painted the curve of Jade's cheek with the dark red streak. "I'm sorry," Fyora whispered then, with a tinge of her humanity in the devastation cracking in her voice, before opening her mouth, wide, in a horrific, wailing scream that cut through the cold air and through Jade's skin, piercing into her skin, so loud, inhuman.

Jade shot up in bed, the sound of the scream still echoing in her ears as she shook her head to rid herself of it, shaking the last remnants of the dream away. She laid her hand on her chest, feeling her heart beat rapidly, thrumming underneath her hot skin. She shivered, cold as the blankets laid rumpled around her, but her skin was covered in a layer of sweat. She took a moment to catch her breath, eyes wide as she took in the darkness of her empty room. She ran her hand up through her mussed hair, which fell wildly around her shoulders, finally breaking the silence with a whisper. "Damn."

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