DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2004 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.

The Lost Years: Bystanders

by Djinn

The cemetery loomed ahead of her. Christine sighed, stuck her hand in her jacket pocket, feeling for the stakes she'd put there earlier. Their smooth surface and sharp points were comfortably reassuring. As she stepped off the sidewalk and through the gates of the cemetery, she slid one of the stakes out and flipped it absently in her hand. She was not in the mood to patrol tonight, had a lot of studying to do. The final for the accelerated anatomy class was next week, and then her last term would begin.

She smiled, already anticipating being done with classes and moving on to her residency program. Starfleet Medical had allowed her to test out of a number of subjects and had waived the internship requirement based on her previous degrees and practical experience on the Enterprise, and the fact that she'd impressed the hell out of her professors. Professor Darnell, the head of the immunology department, had been particularly supportive. She suspected it was his recommendation that had convinced the board to agree to her skipping the internship. Darnell had made it clear that he wanted her working in his department once her residency was over, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to get back into research. She was looking forward to her time as a resident in emergency medicine at Starfleet Medical to help her decide if she wanted to follow the clinical route or go back to research.

She smiled. She knew what Len thought she should do. He'd lectured her the other day on the coldness of research compared to the good she could do in a hospital or on a starship. She'd told him of Jim's idea that she think about the Enterprise. He'd nodded, had also thought it was a sound idea. Funny how he and Jim could see eye to eye when they weren't in the same room.

"Evening, ma'am," another fleeter said as he passed her, hurrying down the cemetery path.

A civilian in the line of fire--just what she needed. She hastily slid the stake up her sleeve and called down the path. "Ensign?"

He turned. She thought he looked a bit old to be an ensign.

He smiled. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

She was still getting used to her promotion to lieutenant. Being a level higher on the chain was a bit of a shock.

The man walked back down the path to her. His walk was a bit uncertain; the smile he shot her was awkward. He met her eyes, then immediately looked away. She thought he looked like the kind of guy who was immediately overlooked, who could disappear into a crowd and no one would remember him ever being there. He looked at her again, his smile wavering. She expected him to blush at any moment.

"New around here?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am." He smiled, pointed to a small insignia on his uniform. "OCS."

Officer Candidate School. That explained it. He was coming up the same way Janice had. Jumping out of the enlisted ranks through extreme competence, landing smack dab into a group of younger, and in his case more aggressive, cadets. She almost felt sorry for him, except she knew he had to be awfully good at something to get into the program in the first place.

She pointed back down the path. "Look Ensign"--she glanced at his nametag--"Thompson. It's a bad idea to cut through the cemetery. Disrespectful of the dead." She'd tell him it was dangerous too, but who would believe her? Earth was a safe place, if you didn't know how busy the undead were. Especially this late at night.

"You're cutting through it."

"No, no, I'm not. I'm going to visit my grandmother's grave." She hoped he wouldn't ask why she was doing that at midnight.

He looked immediately chagrined. "Oh, jeez. I'm sorry. I didn't mean...you know, to--"

"It's okay, Thompson. Just don't cut through the cemeteries." Those were words to live by and, if he wanted to survive, he'd stay out of them at night from here on out.

She waited until he'd made it to the gate before she turned and headed into the main part of the cemetery. Her patrol took her past the crypt that had reminded Spike of where he'd lived in Sunnydale. She got a pang as she thought of him, hoped he was doing okay. She hadn't heard from him, but then she hadn't expected to.

She made a sweep of the far side of the cemetery. She didn't expect to find anything tonight, but most vampires were creatures of limited imagination when it came to picking a feeding ground. And there seemed to be so many fledglings around. She'd expected their number to drop when Anacost's followers had been destroyed, but if anything, there seemed to more of them.

Whoever was making the vampires wasn't coming back for them, because she was killing them off almost as quickly as they were rising. She sighed. It was a mystery now, but she'd figure it out eventually. If it was a master vampire, Tolvar would hear about it through his network, or Emma would find something out from Silver. If it were just a hungry garden-variety vampire, eventually he or she would make a mistake, and Christine would be there to make him or her very, very sorry.

She just hated to think about so many people dying in the meantime. It was easy to lose sight of the fact that the newly-risen vampires that she staked and beheaded with abandon had been human once. Not that it mattered. Once they were turned, they were hers to put down. She could be sorry for them, but she couldn't afford to feel any remorse. They were vampires, she was the slayer. Everyone knew the story. Everyone undead anyway.

"No! Get away from me--" The last word turned into a scream then was abruptly cut off.

Christine took off in the direction of the crypt. Maybe this was one human she could save. She put on a burst of speed, rounded the corner and saw two vampires threatening a man on the ground. A man in a Starfleet uniform.

"Thompson?" she yelled, irritated beyond belief. "I told you not to cut through the damn cemetery."

"Well, these guys seemed to be following you. And they didn't look nice. But now they really don't look nice."

Thompson tried to scoot away from them crab-fashion, but one of the vampires reached down and pulled him up.

"You can't leave," the vampire said. "You're dinner."

Christine coughed dramatically until the vampires looked over at her. She held up her stake. "Hate to spoil your dining plans, but I'm not going to let you hurt him."

"You're too old to be a slayer, lady." The vampire dropped Thompson. "Don't you know better than to play with sharp objects?"

"Gosh, you're right. Here, you take it." She threw the stake at him. It landed hard, dead center, and bored in deep but not as deep as Emma could get them to go. Christine made a sound of disappointment as the vampire exploded into dust.

"Oh, jeez!" Thompson backed away fast from the settling dust cloud.

The other vampire began to advance on Christine.

"Just a hint: no comments about my age." She met him halfway, kicked him hard.

His eyes widened. He obviously hadn't expected her to be as strong as she was. Who the hell was making these vampires and then leaving them so ignorant? There shouldn't be a vampire in San Francisco that didn't know that the local slayer was way past puberty. And they weren't completely in the dark, the other vampire had known about slayers. She supposed that they might be talking among themselves, sharing information, no matter how limited. And information was bound to get garbled with the group constantly changing as someone kept increasing the ranks and she kept cutting them back.

It was almost indecently easy to get past the vampire's defenses and stake him. She pulled the stake back out, was moving over to Thompson before the vampire exploded into dust.

"Are you hurt?"

He looked at her in stunned amazement. "How'd you do that?"

She ignored his question, moved closer to check his neck for bite wounds. He pulled away at her touch as if embarrassed.

She reached for him again but he scuttled away.

"I just want to see if you're hurt." She'd saved plenty of people who hadn't known they'd been bitten until they passed out from lack of blood.

"I'm okay. Really." He ran his hand around his neck, pulled it out. No blood. The rest of his uniform was grass stained but not torn. He appeared to be scared silly but unharmed.

She stuck the stake back into her pocket, took his arm and hauled him up, then walked him back to the main gates. He was shaky at first, but by the time she dumped him onto the sidewalk he seemed to have recovered.

"What were they?"

"Nothing."

He shot her a look. "They were vampires, weren't they? My uncle used to tell me stories about them. The undead, right?"

She rolled her eyes.

"No, really. That's what they were. And that was a stake you used on them. What about silver bullets, do you have silver bullets? And a really old gun. Oh wait, silver was for werewolves, right. It was fire and beheadings and..." He saw the look on her face and gulped. "I won't say anything."

She'd played this game a few times. "No, you won't. Because if you do, Starfleet will have you into the psychologist's office faster than you can say 'straightjacket.' Talk about this to anyone and kiss any chance for a commission goodbye."

His face fell. "But they were vampires, right?"

She pointed down the street. "Go home. Don't come into this cemetery again. That's an order. You got it?" Her tone was far from friendly.

He nodded quickly, hurried away.

She stood and watched him till he was out of sight, then turned back and continued her patrol.

-----------------------------

Uhura dug into her salad, waiting for the new captain of the Enterprise to get to the point. He'd been making small talk for the past few minutes, but she suspected he had more on his mind than discovering how she was finding shore duty.

She studied him as they talked. He seemed steady. That was important. He had an open and willing smile, but he didn't use it all the time. She liked that too. He didn't have Kirk's unqualified aura of command, but Decker felt solid, as if he was already looking out for her and the rest of his new crew.

"The external refits will be done in four months. Then we can get up there and start on the internal ones. I'm excited about this opportunity. We're all going to get the chance to know this ship from the bare floorboards up."

He smiled, his enthusiasm was infectious, and Uhura couldn't resist it. She grinned too.

He leaned back, seemed to be studying her now. She smiled easily at him and went back to her salad.

"You served on the Enterprise a long time, didn't you, Commander? Knew most of her crew?"

Her promotion to lieutenant commander was still fresh enough for her to fill a thrill every time someone addressed her by her new rank. "I'd say so, sir."

"What do you know of Lieutenant Christine Chapel?"

"What do you want to know?" She'd learned caution in the time since she'd first found out Christine was the slayer. She no longer took anything at face value when someone showed an interest in her friend.

"Admiral Kirk is recommending her as an addition to the sickbay roster. She's awfully new as a doctor, in my opinion."

Uhura relaxed slightly. "She's new but she's not green. She's done more as head nurse on the Enterprise than most doctors ever do on a smaller ship. She has a PhD in biochemistry and had all but finished her M.D. when she shipped out on the Enterprise. Believe me, you won't regret having her on your team." Uhura smiled. "But you should know, sir, that she's a good friend of mine. I'm not exactly objective."

He smiled. "That's okay. I value personal loyalty. And from what I've seen of you, you don't let your feelings get in the way of your judgment." He dipped a vegetable into a bowl of hot sauce. "We can add her to the roster, if she wants to be added." He grinned. "I probably should find that out, shouldn't I?"

Uhura nodded. "That's the preferred way."

He laughed. "We shouldn't just make her decisions for her?"

Uhura shook her head quickly, then worried that she was giving the wrong impression. "She has other offers already, sir. I know the immunology department head is interested in her for a research position."

Decker looked more interested. "I like that. Means she's well thought of. Can't ask for a better rec."

"No, sir."

"I know you were being courted by several other commanders. Why'd you decide to stay on the Enterprise?"

She smiled. "It is the flagship."

"You don't strike me as a person impressed by that sort of thing."

She thought about her decision. "I think it's what you said, sir. The opportunity to get in on the ground level. I've actually had a hand in the design of the communications section and systems. I'm getting the chance to sit down with the engineers and go over my pet peeves and give them my wish list. It's exciting when they come back and ask for further details or want my opinion on what they've got. They're listening to me. I'm making a difference."

"Hell of a feeling," he said with a nod. "I feel the same way. In fact, I've been walking on air since they announced my selection."

She liked that he wasn't afraid to show his excitement. Some new captains would think they should be blase about such an honor.

"Are you nervous?" It was a personal question, and if he didn't have that disarming openness she doubted that she'd have been brave enough to ask him.

"Me? Nervous?" He laughed. "As hell, commander. As hell."

She laughed. "Don't be. You'll be great."

He seemed genuinely pleased that she thought so. "But are you a good judge of character?"

She thought of the strong group of friends she had, how she could count on all of them. "The best, sir." She smiled again.

"Well, we'll find out, won't we?" He pretended to shudder. "The first time I completely screw up." He laughed easily, openly.

She laughed too. Starfleet had made a great choice. She thought she would enjoy working for this man.

-----------------------------

"So where do you want to go to dinner?" Christine asked as they cut through the cemetery.

"I was thinking Venice," Kirk said with a laugh, waiting for the playful punch he knew she'd give him.

She didn't disappoint him. "Cut that out."

"Okay, then maybe Rio?"

She shook her head sternly.

"Well, we've already done New Orleans, Chris."

"I think New Orleans did us." She smiled.

Before he could answer, the air in front of him began to shimmer, then whirl. Chris pulled him back a few paces as the dark slayer he hadn't seen since that terrible night of Gotterdammerung stepped out. Kirk thought she looked about ten years older.

"Slayer," she said to Christine, who only rolled her eyes.

"LaVelle." Christine gestured to Kirk. "You remember Admiral Kirk."

The dark slayer tensed when she saw Kirk. "I thought you'd recovered."

He frowned. "From Anacost? I did."

LaVelle turned to Christine. "Marion said you were involved with a vampire."

"I was. It didn't work out."

"You slayed him?"

"No, he moved away."

Kirk couldn't help himself. He chuckled. Christine smiled but the other slayer glared at him. LaVelle walked over to him, leaned in close. She sniffed twice, then pulled away as if disgusted.

"I can still smell Anacost's blood in you."

Christine was suddenly in front of him, pushing LaVelle away from him. "Knock it off," she said to the other slayer.

"What is it with you and vampires?"

"He's not a vampire."

"Well, he almost was."

Kirk stepped between them before the conversation degenerated further. "Ladies. Aren't we all on the same side?"

LaVelle stepped back with a sour look for both of them. "Sometimes, I wonder."

"Are you here for a reason," Christine asked, "or did you just miss criticizing my choice in men?"

Kirk shot Chris a look as he moved back to her side. Antagonizing the other slayer wasn't the answer, although he couldn't help but feel pleased at how she had phrased the question.

"Marion said there was evil coming. And that I needed to find you."

"Marion's gotten vaguer since Gotterdammerung."

LaVelle glared.

"Oh, fine. Silver's been asking about Kirsu."

LaVelle's lip twitched at the name of the head watcher. "Why?"

"I don't know. But he had a team on Vega Hydra. Trying to figure out what really happened. He asked me where all the slayers came from."

"Did you tell him about Kirsu?"

"Yeah. And gave him directions. He'll be by any day now." Christine rolled her eyes. "No, I didn't tell him anything."

"I don't like this."

"Me either. But I thought you should know he's been nosing around. Keep your head down right now."

LaVelle frowned. It seemed to be a fairly constant expression with her. She caught Kirk studying her and the frown grew deeper. She took a step toward him and Chris moved quicker, blocking her again.

"What is your problem with him?"

"He bothers me."

Kirk decided he wasn't fond of being discussed in the third person. "Why?"

LaVelle shook her head. "You stink of magic."

Kirk smiled tightly. "I thought you said I stank of vampire blood. Can't do both, can I?"

LaVelle conceded with a shrug, but he noticed a small smile beginning. "You realize," she said, "that I could crush you like a bug?"

He gave her the mocking smile he loved to combine with a huge bluff. "Depends on how much of that stinky magic I really have, now doesn't it?"

Christine sighed. "This is getting us nowhere. If I find anything else out, I'll let you know."

"You do that." LaVelle did not take her eyes off Kirk.

He was getting tired of their little stare down, but he refused to blink.

"Oh, for god's sake." Christine pushed them both hard, causing them to stagger back. And blink. "There, you both lose."

LaVelle touched a ring on her left hand. Behind her, the portal reformed. "Don't bring him with you, if you come to Kirsu." She jumped into the portal and it closed behind her.

Kirk smiled at Christine. "I love getting together with your old friends."

She shook her head. "You two are like oil and water."

"Oh and you and she are like water and water?" He shook his head. "She has a chip on her shoulder a parsec wide."

Christine nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, she does. But it's not her fault. She didn't get to hide like I did. She's been fighting her whole life. And now she's in charge. You of all people should know how wearing that can be."

He looked away. She was right. On the other hand, LaVelle had appeared to enjoy their little pissing contest as much as he had. He grinned.

"There's no redeeming you." She took his hand, pulling him out of cemetery.

"Who wants to be redeemed?" He grinned at her. "Now, what do you think? Dinner in Venice or Rio?"

"Down the street at the diner." Her tone was very stern.

"You"--he tapped her on the nose--"are no fun."

"And that is just the way we want to keep it."

He felt her hand tighten on his, as if to take any sting out of he words. He nodded, as if conceding defeat. "All right, the diner down the street it is."

As they walked, he held up his free hand, sniffed it.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing if I really stink of magic."

Chris laughed. "If she thinks it's bad now, she should have been in New Orleans with us." Her grin was pure evil.

He laughed, tucking her hand in under his arm and enjoying the feeling of her walking close to him. "Two slayers? I don't think so. I'm adventurous, but I'm not suicidal."

----------------------------

Christine turned around, sure that someone was watching her. The area between her shoulder blades kept itching and she reached up again to try to scratch the spot.

"What is wrong with you, Christine?" Drake looked over at her as they made another pass through the cemetery.

"Nothing." Christine tried to roll out the tension she felt in her neck. "I thought you said something was going to rise?"

"Something is." Drake did not sound pleased. "My source said it would be near the crypt."

"We've been through this section twice. There aren't any new graves, Emma."

"Well, then, my source must have been wrong."

From the sound of Drake's voice, Christine figured that the last thing she'd want to be was that source.

They walked through the deserted cemetery another time, ending up near the front gates.

"I don't like this." Drake set down her bag, scanned the area around them silently.

Christine waited. She felt the itch again. "Someone's out there," she whispered.

"I think so too. But who?"

Something moved in the bushes.

Christine pulled out her stake. "I don't know. Let's go find out." She charged off into the bushes, heard Drake yell at her to stop, then her watcher followed her in.

There was nothing in the bushes.

"Dammit, Christine. That was utter foolishness." Drake bent down. "Hello. What's this?" She pushed back through the bushes into the light.

It was a pendant on a chain. There was a symbol etched into the silver. Drake seemed to blanch as she looked at it.

"Emma?"

Her watcher stuck the chain in her pocket. "I'll have to research this. I think I've seen it before. May be a cult emblem. Would explain all the new vampires." She looked around nervously.

"What's wrong, Emma?"

"I'm sure it's nothing, Christine." Drake gathered up her things. "You'll finish up here?" She walked away quickly.

Christine pursed her lips thoughtfully. Something was wrong. She somehow knew that her watcher had just lied to her.

Was it to protect Christine? Or to protect the Watchers? Christine sighed. Just when she was ready to trust Emma...

"Hi."

Christine whirled, nearly staking Ensign Thompson as he bounded up to her.

His eyes widened and he jumped back. "Oh. Right. I wasn't supposed to come in here. But I saw you and figured it would be okay if you were here." He smiled nervously.

She sighed loudly. "Look, Ensign--"

"--Bob. My name is Bob."

"Bob." She realized she still had her stake out and shoved it into her pocket. "Why are you here?"

She sat down on a nearby bench, scanning the area. The itch between her shoulder blades had stopped. She relaxed.

"I owe you a big thank you. I've been waiting every night since you saved my life for a chance to say it properly. I knew if I waited long enough, I'd find you again." He grinned, it was almost an engaging expression. "Just sit right there, okay? Don't move."

"Thompson, wait..."

But he was already running down the path, his ungainly gait carrying him to the right as he ran. Christine shook her head. She waited.

And waited.

And waited. She was just about to leave when he came around the corner, carrying two cups carefully and very slowly. When he got to her, he handed her one of the cups.

She looked down. "Hot chocolate?"

He nodded. "It's the best for a cold night. Warm you right up."

"It's not that cold, Ensign." She saw his look. "I mean Bob."

"Seems cold to me." He shrugged. "Oh well, hot chocolate is good any time." He took a sip, then grimaced. "Hot," he said. He took a smaller sip. When he looked up at her, he had a dollop of frothy chocolate on his nose.

"You've got..." She gestured at his nose.

"What?" He reached up, laughed nervously as he wiped his nose off with the back of his hand. "Oh, thanks."

Christine blew on the steaming liquid. It did smell good. How long had it been since she'd had hot chocolate? She took a tentative sip.

"You like it?"

She nodded. "Now we're even."

He shook his head. "Oh no. This in no way makes up for my life and you saving it." He moved jerkily and some of the hot liquid spilled out on his uniform. "Oh, jeez. I forgot to get napkins." He fished into his jacket pocket, pulled out some kind of rag, began to mop at his uniform.

Christine watched him, thinking that she should be at home studying. Or killing something.

He looked up, grinned nervously, then looked away. "I'm sorry."

She frowned. "For what?"

He shrugged. "You probably have a lot of other places you could be right now. More interesting people you could be with."

She thought of Jim, decided not to tell poor Bob that he was right. "It's okay. I'm out here anyway." She smiled gently at him.

He nodded, didn't meet her eyes.

"Don't you have anyone else you could be with?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"Not getting along with the classmates?"

He made a disparaging sound. "They're all so young. And they talk so fast." He sighed. "I don't make friends all that easy, I guess."

She didn't know what to say, so she settled for nodding.

Thompson turned to her. "Those were vampires that attacked me, right?"

She sighed.

"Okay, you can't tell me. I understand. But what you did. I mean, wap, you threw your stake and BAM"--his yell made Christine jump--"that vampire just exploded. It was so amazing."

"Bob, I don't think the people in the next city heard you."

He looked aghast. "Oh, oh jeez. I'm sorry. Because it's a secret, isn't it? That there are vampires and things?"

Christine took a long swallow of her chocolate. The man was wearing her out.

"And then when you kicked that guy," Thompson continued in a quieter voice. "And then he tried to slug you, but you ducked and slammed that stake into his chest." He looked thoughtful. "Do they always go up in that big dust explosion?"

She finished her drink and handed the cup to him. "Bob, thank you. But I have to go."

He got up, spilling more chocolate on himself. "Okay. Maybe I'll see you around."

Christine repressed a shudder. "You can't wait for me here. It's dangerous. Don't you understand that?"

"I don't feel afraid when I'm with you." He smiled, and this time the expression was rather sweet.

Christine analyzed Thompson. He could have been attractive. His dark hair was thick, his eyes a clear blue. But he so rarely made sustained eye contact that he probably never gave anyone a chance to admire the color. He stood up and she realized he was taller than she was, but his terrible posture made it impossible to tell. He began to walk off, waving awkwardly as he did. "Okay, see you around."

She nodded, lips pressed tightly together so that she wouldn't laugh at him when he bore too far right and nearly tripped over a headstone.

She looked past him and saw Kirk watching her with a grin from the front gate. As Thompson passed him, he shot Kirk a startled look.

"Ensign," Kirk said.

"Admiral, sir. It's an honor." Thompson looked like he was going to press a handshake on Kirk but then realized he still held the cups.

"Carry on, ensign," Kirk said as he walked past Thompson and up the path to her. "You have an admirer?" he asked quietly.

"God, I hope not."

He laughed at the expression on her face. "Now, now. I thought a woman could never have too many suitors?"

"He's not my suitor. He's just lonely. And incredibly gawky. I bet he's never been with a woman."

"Let's not have you be his first."

She looked at him startled. He was smiling, but there was something darker in his eyes.

"Jealous?"

His eyes narrowed. "Not at all. You're a free agent." He didn't smile this time.

Their eyes locked and she found herself unable to look away. "You're just looking out for Spock's interests, right?"

His friend's name broke the spell. "Of course." Kirk sighed and looked away.

She frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"Don't laugh. I was on my way home and I thought you were in danger. I ended up here."

"You thought I was in danger?" She laughed, remembering Thompson's clumsiness. "Maybe from being burned by hot chocolate, but other than that..."

He shrugged. "Probably some other slayer who needed me then."

She laughed. "Must be." She touched his hand. "I like that you were worried about me."

"I like worrying about you." He looked away, sighed. "I didn't really have any right to barge in, though. If you do find someone, it won't be any of my business."

"It's not like I'm looking."

"I know. But that's usually when someone comes along." He touched her cheek, then pulled his hand back. "I better go."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Studying to do?" he asked.

"Always."

"Not for much longer though." He grinned. "We have to celebrate."

"Definitely." She took his hand, comforted by the warmth of his touch, the slight pressure as he squeezed gently.

"Good night."

She nodded, watched him walk away. Then she shook her head, forcing her thoughts back to the anatomy final she had the next morning.

------------------------------

Kirk carried his tray through the cafeteria intent on getting back to his office. He nodded to an Academy classmate he hadn't seen in years when suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck went into high alert. As the other man walked off, Kirk looked around casually, trying to determine what was bothering him. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

He was almost out the door when a shiver ran down his spine and he stopped walking, turning to scan the far side of the room.

Lori sat grinning in the corner booth. She gestured to the seat across from her.

He shook his head slightly.

She stood up and walked over to him. "Jim. I need to talk to you. Please?"

"Lori, now isn't the time."

Her eyes narrowed, and he realized that there was nothing coy in her expression. She gestured to the booth, her eyes boring into his as if trying to send him some secret message.

"Please?" She pulled him gently, pasting a smile on her face as she turned.

As soon as he began to follow her, she dropped his hand. He waited for her to sit down, then slid into the seat across from her. "Well?"

"Hold on." She stared at him, her eyes darkening from honey brown to deep brown to black. She slowly moved her hand, as if pulling shut a sliding door. Murmuring something that sounded like Latin, she closed her eyes and shuddered slightly, then took a deep breath.

He felt as if he was in a negative pressure room, his ears tried to adjust as the air became suddenly heavy and close. "What did you do?"

She opened her eyes. They were brown again. "Gave us a safe place to talk."

"Why?"

"Because he won't expect me to do it here."

"He? He who?"

She seemed to struggle, then spit out one word. "Nogura."

"What about Nogura."

She was clutching at her throat. "Don't say his name again while we're in here." She breathed deeply, almost hyperventilating.

"Lori?" He started to get up but she waved him back down.

Her breathing finally slowed. And she closed her eyes as if in relief. "I have to talk around it, Jim."

"Why? Is someone listening in?" He looked around the room.

Her hand on his arm brought his attention back to her. "No. And that's the problem. I can say anything I want as long as it's within earshot of him. And he hears very well over very long distances. I just hope he's not listening right now, or this much silence from us is bound to get his attention. We'll have to hurry."

She hunched her shoulders, moaned slightly as she rolled her head around. "Feels so good. Real privacy." She let her shoulders drop. "Can't stay long though." She leaned forward. "I need to talk to the Slayer. Can you arrange it?"

"I suppose so. What's going on, Lori?"

"I thought you were just another of the mundanes, one more admiral for me to seduce for him. Until I saw you with her. And I realized that you're different."

He nodded. "I help her sometimes."

Lori smirked. "Yes, I'm sure you do. Slayers have the most amazing energy, don't they?"

He wasn't sure what she meant, was almost certain he didn't want to know.

Lori ran her finger over his arm, never touching the skin but following the curve of his elbow. He shuddered, saw her eyes dilate, then she shivered too.

"You're brimming with energy, too. Do you even know how to use it?" She seemed to be sniffing the air, as if she was some kind of animal catching a scent on the wind. "Wasted on you, all these years." She threw her head back. "He has no idea what you are. We have to keep it that way."

"Nog...that person you mentioned."

She nodded. "Can you set up a meeting with the Slayer? It has to look accidental."

"I think so." He frowned. "What do I tell her this is about?"

Lori smiled. "Everything that matters."

"That's a bit vague."

"Slayer heaven. And my hell."

He frowned. Slayer heaven? Kirsu?

Lori suddenly stiffened, "Careful," she warned him. "He's coming." She leaned in, touched his hand. "Try to look uncomfortable. He doesn't expect me to succeed with you. But he knows I'll keep trying." She whispered something Kirk couldn't catch, brought her hand down in a sharp cutting motion.

Kirk felt his ears pop hard, as if the pressure had changed much too fast. He resisted the urge to shake his head. She wanted him to look uncomfortable? Between the pain in his ears and the way his skin crawled where she was touching his hand, he didn't have to try very hard.

He saw Nogura walk into the cafeteria. The admiral stopped at several tables before he got to theirs.

Kirk pulled his hand away abruptly and stood up, giving Lori a tight smile. "I've got to be getting back. It was nice seeing you again." He made sure his tone did not agree with his words.

Lori looked irritated. Kirk had a hard time determining if that emotion was real or feigned, but he thought it was for Nogura's benefit.

"Sir." He nodded pleasantly to his boss.

"See you at staff meeting, Jim."

"Yes, sir." He hurried away, not slowing until he hit his corridor. As he got to his office, he heard the door across the hall open up.

"Jim?" Richter leaned out. "Can you come in here?"

Kirk saw the older admiral seem to lose his balance and hurried to his side. "Carl?"

"Don't feel so good, Jim." Richter staggered to his chair, sat down hard. "I have to talk to someone about this. I can't talk to Admiral Blowhard, he's already told me to quit asking questions and just follow my orders."

"What's going on?"

Richter handed him a padd. "We're supposed to be on a diplomatic mission. But my science team keeps making these damn sweeps everywhere we go. And Jim, we go everywhere, our diplomatic access makes sure of that."

"Spying?"

Richter seemed to be struggling for breath. "I don't think so. It's like we're looking inside subspace itself for something."

"For what?"

"I don't know. The science department, they're new, most of them. I think they're Nogura's men. I heard one of them say they'd find a portal sooner or later." Richter rubbed his head. "I just don't know what he meant. A portal to what? Or where?" He rubbed his head harder. "Damned headache."

"Let's get you checked out at Medical, Carl. You don't look good."

Richter seemed to be getting paler by the minute. He shook his head, pushed the padd at Kirk. "Keep that safe, first. I put some other things on it. Things I took from the science files. They looked odd, not sure why, they just don't seem right to me. You look at them. Tell me if I'm crazy?"

"Carl, later, we've got to get you to--"

"--No, now, Jim. Get it out of here. Put it somewhere they won't find it."

Kirk decided arguing would do his friend more harm than the short wait while he put the padd in his office. He was about to lock it in his desk, when he saw the carrying tube holding his sword hanging on the coat rack. He walked over, dropped the padd into the tube.

He sealed the container. Then, feeling slightly foolish but also driven to do it, he held his hands over the sealed end of the tube, closed his eyes, concentrated, and whispered, "Protect."

He felt a small buzz seem to go through his hands and into the tube. He let go of it, hurried across the hall to get Richter.

"Come on, let's go, my friend." He hefted the other admiral out of the chair, supported him as they walked down the hall.

Richter sighed. "I don't trust him, Jim," he whispered, as he seemed to put all his concentration into walking. Or her. Not one bit."

"Walk, don't waste your breath," Kirk said. But he knew exactly who his friend meant. And he agreed completely.

The trip to Medical seemed very long. As Kirk helped Richter through the door, he called to the attendant on duty, "My friend needs help."

The attendant settled Richter in a wheelchair and said to Kirk, "That's fine, sir. I'll take it from here." When Kirk didn't move, he said, "No reason for you to stay, sir." He smiled; it seemed a kind, open smile.

Kirk left. As he walked back to his office, he felt the hairs on his neck once again standing up. "Lori?" he called as he walked into his office.

She was standing at his window. He had the idea that she'd just moved to that spot. Glancing at his desk, he saw that several things were not where he'd left them. He did not look over at the coat rack, or at the carrying tube he somehow knew she had overlooked.

"Something wrong with Carl? Captain Sorrel saw you helping him down the corridor."

"He's not feeling well. I took him to Medical."

"Oh." She walked away, no expression in her face. It was as if their little talk at lunch had never happened.

He sat down at his desk, ignored her as the door opened and she stepped out.

"See you at staff meeting."

"Sure," he said distractedly, as he reached for a padd.

He didn't breathe until the door closed behind her. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the carrying tube, which seemed to shimmer slightly as he looked at it.

What the hell was going on around here?

---------------------------

"So, how are classes going?" Drake asked as she swung a quarterstaff at Christine's knees.

Christine jumped over the staff easily, bringing her own around to connect hard with her watcher's shoulder, knocking the other woman backwards a few steps before she recovered.

"Classes are fine," she answered.

Drake frowned. "And patrol the past few nights? You haven't given me much of a report." She blocked Christine's staff as it hit her low, then brought her weapon up and to the other side as Christine came at her hard, alternating hits and gaining the advantage.

"Patrol was fine." Christine kept her face expressionless as she pressed the attack.

Drake finally pushed Christine off her, then backed up a few steps and set her staff upright, leaning on it slightly. Christine eased off, relaxing her hold on the staff but not setting it down. She waited.

"What's wrong with you?"

Christine shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Right." Drake turned and put the quarterstaff away. "If I've done something to irritate you, you better tell me what it is, Christine. Because I'm in the dark here."

Christine laughed, knew the sound wasn't a happy one. "Like I'm in the dark about that pendant you found."

Drake's look became guarded. "It was a cult symbol, just as I thought. Very old."

Christine tossed her staff at Drake hard, turned on her heel. "If you're going to lie to me, Emma, I'm not going to stick around." She grabbed up her pack and headed for the door.

"Christine, wait."

She didn't slow down.

"This doesn't concern you, I swear it."

Christine turned around. "Doesn't concern me? Whoever left that there was in the cemetery, probably that night. How does that not concern me?"

Drake's face tightened up again, and Christine realized she was going to lie.

"Emma, just don't. If you have to make something up, just don't say anything." She turned again.

"It's David."

Christine stopped. "What?"

"The watcher I told you about? The one who was turned?"

Christine turned and stared at Drake. "I remember who David is. He's here?"

"So it would appear." Drake sat down on the bench, rubbed her eyes hard. "He used to leave a necklace like that behind when he killed one of us. It was his calling card."

"You weren't going to tell me?" Christine stalked over to her. "My god, Emma, you left me alone out there with him. A vampire that gutted you like a fish is running around this city, and you didn't even bother to tell me he might be in the neighborhood much less hiding in the damn bushes?"

Drake closed her eyes. "You were never in any danger."

Christine laughed, then saw the look her watcher turned on her. Frightened. Emma was frightened. Christine dropped her pack, sat down on the bench.

"Tell me, Emma. Trust me."

"He would never have hurt you, Christine."

"But you said he was hunting us?"

"Watchers. I meant he hunts watchers. He's never hurt a slayer. In fact, if the stories are true, he's protects them."

Christine frowned. "Why?" The idea of a vampire--one without a soul or a handy chip to make him behave--protecting a slayer seemed ludicrous to her.

"He blames us. For what happened to Laura. He was obsessed with that, pathological in his grief. Sure that he should have done more to keep her safe. Just as sure that we should have let her go, ignored that she was called, because she was so unsuited. He was turned in that frame of mind and he didn't lose his hatred and guilt. He wants to kill us all, end the watchers' hold on slayers." She shook her head. "They say a demon takes over, but I don't believe it. When I saw David after he'd been turned, that was no demon facing me. It was David."

Christine thought of Drusilla. Spike had said she'd been mad when Angelus turned her and she'd stayed mad. She'd certainly been insane when Christine had met up with her. It was increasingly unclear to Christine if there was any demon at all in the vampires, or just the blackness that lived in the hearts and minds of most people, the blackness that was normally pushed down, kept away.

"So he's out there? Looking for you?"

Drake's expression tightened. "He's obviously found me. Now he's playing with me. He'll take his time before he forces a confrontation."

"He's done this before?"

Emma nodded. "Oh, yes. It's what made him such a good assassin. He can wait forever. And he could be anywhere. He can fade into a crowd like a cat."

Christine nodded. She'd seen vampires with that kind of preternatural grace. "What does he look like?"

Drake laughed. "Like the boy next door, like anyone, everyone. He's a master of disguise, Christine. He won't be found until he's ready." Drake let out a long shuddering breath.

"He's got you spooked. You're already acting like he's won."

Drake ran her hand down her body, following the route of the scar she'd shown Christine. She seemed unaware that she was doing it.

"Emma?"

Her watcher seemed to shake herself out of the fog she was in