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) 2003 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.

The Lost Years: Free Association

by Djinn

"Harder!" Drake yelled at her as Christine kicked out, catching her watcher just below the hip. The blow barely knocked the other woman off balance.

Christine fell back.

"Quit thinking of me as a watcher, and think of me as a threat." Drake kicked out, caught Christine hard in the ribs, sending her flying. "Don't hold back or you'll get hurt."

Christine pulled herself to her feet slowly.

"What is wrong with you? Fight me!" Drake kicked out again.

This time, Christine blocked the kick with a stiff arm, knocking her back quickly before Drake could counter. She followed up with a fierce spinning kick. One that finally took Drake down.

Drake got up quickly. "That's better." Her frown grew as she saw Christine step back. "We're not done here, Christine."

When Christine picked up one of the towels and began to wipe her face, Drake strode toward her.

"That's hardly what I'd call a workout." She sat down on the bench that leaned against the wall in the basement of her small town home. A basement entirely fitted out for training a slayer.

"We're done," Christine said into the towel.

"We've barely begun."

Christine pulled the towel away from her face and studied the weapons that lined the walls, the workout equipment and mats that covered the floor. It was quite the set up. "Did you bring all this stuff with you?"

"The Council has a long reach. It was an easy thing to get these moved in and ready for my arrival." Drake stared at her intently, as if waiting for something.

Christine shifted, uncomfortable under the other woman's gaze. "How old are you?" she finally asked.

"Why did you run away from a man who loves you?" Drake countered.

Christine sat down on the bench, put the towel over her face and leaned back. "That's a personal question."

"As was yours."

Christine heard the sound of a water container being opened, then felt it being pressed into her hand. She pulled the towel off her face and sipped at the water as Drake opened one for herself.

"I'm thirty-two," her watcher said. "Now. Why did you run?"

"You read my files. You figure it out."

Drake leaned back, took a long draught of the water. "You have a problem with intimacy. You're afraid to commit for fear of having your heart broken. On the other hand, you have sacrificed your own identity for a man at least once already and are wary of doing that again. You seek to improve yourself, and have the means to do it, but are at times hampered by your own self-doubt and lack of confidence. You have a great deal of rage inside you that you refuse to examine and have worked out primarily by viciously killing as many vampires and demons as you could find, or by having angry sex with Spike, another vampire who for some reason decided to make you his pet self-improvement project. You are paranoid, were suicidal. I think you still are but have learned to mask these tendencies better and thus hide the fact that you have not made as much improvement as some might think. That about cover it?"

"What are you?"

"A watcher some of the time. A counselor all of the time."

Christine stood up, water splashing from her open container. "You can't be serious."

"You're at a critical point in your life, Christine. You don't even seem to realize it, but you are. I'm here to help you work things out."

"I don't need a damn counselor." She started to walk away, could feel her heart beating too fast, the rage rising inside her.

"That anger will get you killed."

Christine stopped walking.

"Or someone else. Someone you care about. Is that what you want, Christine?"

Christine turned back, could feel tears starting. "This is why Silver sent you? To get inside my head?"

"He sent me to help you."

"I don't believe that."

Drake stood up, moved slowly and carefully toward her as if Christine were an angry dog about to attack. "You're a valuable asset that he doesn't want to lose. Do you believe that?"

Christine slowly nodded. Silver was like a chess player, and she was his queen. There probably wasn't a lot he wouldn't do to preserve her capabilities.

Drake smiled. "I help those on the edge. I push them back. To where it's safe. That's all. We're not going to examine your childhood or whether you loved your mother and father."

"Why the hell not? I had a great childhood. Until I was chosen and then everything good came crashing down."

Drake nodded slowly. "Come sit. When I said we had a lot of work to do, I didn't mean sparring. You fight as well as any slayer I've ever seen. If you hadn't held back out of fear that you'd hurt me, you'd have taken me down over and over." Drake backed up to the bench, slowly sat down. Waited.

Christine could still feel her heart beating overly fast, as if she was preparing for a battle. But her anger had faded. She walked to the bench, sat down.

Drake's voice had none of its usually starchiness. "Despite all your skill, you've lately let yourself get into quite a few jams. Haven't you?"

Christine touched her neck, then pulled her hand away when she realized what she had done. It had been an accident that the vampire had nearly strangled her. If by accident you meant something that happened when you took one too many chances.

Drake was on the same wavelength. "You're reckless in your slaying, Christine. Because I don't think you care whether you survive the night."

Christine swallowed hard. "I'm going to med school. I'm trying to repair a friendship that I nearly ruined. Why would I do these things if I didn't care about my future?"

"We're all complicated creatures, my dear. With one hand, you're pulling yourself out of the canyon. With the other, you're sawing away at the rope that is your only support."

"Nice imagery. They teach that in shrink school?"

"What else do you call this terrible lack of caution you've displayed. Would you even have cared if your friend had been turned the other night and then turned you? Or would you have welcomed the chance to finally embrace the darkness that we both know is inside you?"

Christine wanted to look away, forced herself not to. "If I'm so damned dark, why do you even bother trying to help me?"

"All slayers are dark. It's not something that we talk about much. And frankly, it's not something that we have to deal with very often. Slayers die young. It's the way of things. I don't like it, but I can't change it." She touched Christine's hand gently. "You're not young, Christine. You're as old as I am. Ancient for a slayer."

Christine thought of the Kirsu slayers. Of Rosa, who had seemed ancient to her. "Old as dirt."

"I don't think I'd go that far." Drake's voice was gently chiding. "I'm here to help you. I know you don't believe that now. But in time, you might."

"So Kevin isn't really mad at you? You weren't sent here as punishment for killing the bolus demons?"

Drake laughed. "Oh, they're quite real and quite dead." She made a face. "And he's a long way from forgiving me. Why do you think I have to be your watcher too?"

"So you help slayers?"

"Mostly I help watchers. The ones left behind." Drake saw her expression and smiled grimly. "You never considered how they'd feel did you? And I don't blame you. You're a slayer, trying nightly to survive--or in your case, to want to survive." Her smile became gentler. "But the watchers, those left behind. It's hard. It's often too hard. I can't always help them."

Christine thought she saw something haunted in the watcher's expression. "What are you thinking about?"

Drake swallowed hard. "I really can't go into it."

"You want me to trust you, but you won't trust me with your own pain." Christine leaned forward. "Besides, whoever it is, they're dead, aren't they? You lost them."

"In a sense."

Christine turned away. "Look. I'll trust you, if you trust me." When Drake didn't reply, she said, "Tell me. It's obviously eating you up inside. What kind of example are you setting, if you won't share with me?"

Drake looked over at her. "You'd be quite good at this." Her half smile was amused despite the bleak mood that seemed to have descended on her. "Who listens to the listener?"

Christine smiled. "I always thought it was who watches the watchers?"

Drake smiled. "Oh, that's easy. Special ops watches the watchers, and the slayers too." Her look darkened. "It takes a different kind of person to work there.'

Christine had never heard of special ops. "Keep going."

Drake met her eyes, seemed to be assessing her, as if trying to judge if Christine was worthy of whatever it was she needed to get off her chest. Finally, she looked away. "His name was David Wharton. He was an assassin. Eminently qualified to be in special ops. No problems with conscience, no nightmares. None of the symptoms that marked a problem case for us."

Drake took another sip of her water. Christine waited, afraid that if she said something the watcher would think better of sharing.

"A little over a year ago, there was a slayer whose watcher was killed. David was in the area at the time. He filled in. We all thought it would be temporary. She was, well she was quite unskilled. His polar opposite. I think that he thought he could keep her alive. And she was a sweet girl. Young...so very young. She'd been sheltered, of all the slayers I've met, she seemed the most unlikely to have been chosen. He felt the same, and he asked to stay on as her watcher. Wanted out of special ops. It surprised us all.

"I knew David, you see. We used to train together. He liked my strength. Both on and off the mats, if you follow me."

Christine nodded. Her watcher was full of surprises.

"I went to see him. And his new slayer. Laura was sweet. He was smitten. I mean as if she was his daughter. Or some type of surrogate baby sister." Drake looked over at her, but she seemed to be lost in the past as she said, "She had the sweetest smile I've ever seen. And hair that shown red in the sunlight. Unfortunately, as a slayer, she didn't spend much time in the sunlight."

Laura. Red hair. A year ago. Christine tried hard to keep any reaction off her face.

"What?" Drake was immediately back to the present. "Did you know Laura?"

"No. I can just see where the story's going."

"No, I don't think you can." Drake looked away. "He patrolled with her. To even the odds, he liked to say. But one night, he lost her in a scuffle, was trying to find her when he heard her scream. He had to fight his way to her, but she was gone when he got there."

Taken by the Kirsu slayers after she'd died and called another. Taken to live where it was always day and no vampires could harm her. Only to die again, guts torn out on the bloody fields of Sekanik on Vega Hydra. A victim of Gotterdammerung. Christine knew the real end of the story. But Drake would expect her to make other assumptions about what happened. "They turned her?"

"No. We never found her. We waited, night after night. Ready to kill her quickly, mercifully. But she never showed up. David went after the vampires who'd been in the vicinity. He tortured them. They didn't seem to know what had happened to her.

"I tried to work with David. But he was tough and seemed to accept her loss. I thought he was all right. He went to back to special ops after that. Our relationship cooled, ended not long after." Drake got up, began to pace. "I should have seen the warning signs. I made it a habit to look over their case reports; I should have read between the lines. Seen the risks he was taking. How reckless he'd become. But I wanted to believe he was all right." She turned to Christine.

"He sought them out. A whole nest of vampires. Took them on in the dark of night. With only one stake." She looked down. "He took a lot of them with him before he fell."

"How do you know?"

"Because he got up again. And not as a human. He was hunting us, Christine. It took us a while to catch up with him. But we did. And we surprised him; we hurt him. Vampires can be hurt, you know. Badly enough that they have to retreat until they are well again. We beat him back, but at some point, he'll return. And I keep thinking that if I'd only realized what was going on with him, I could have helped him."

"You could have saved him?"

"Yes."

Christine stood up, touched her hand. "You can't save anyone, Emma. They have to want to save themselves."

"But if we'd understood...if we could have made him understand that the pain he felt was all right. That it was normal to feel the raging grief. He kept himself under such tight control." She shot Christine a knowing glance. "Just as you do."

"So you think I'm going to go get myself turned?"

"You nearly did already. I don't want that to happen to you."

"It won't. I know you'll make sure I don't come back if I ever fall." Christine shot her a grim look, then saw the guilty expression on Drake's face. "You had a chance to kill him, didn't you? And you couldn't?"

Drake pulled up her shirt. A long jagged scar ran down from her collarbone, under her bra, and disappeared into her pants.

"My god."

"He gutted me. I nearly died. This man who I..."

"Who you loved?"

Drake nodded. "Yes. Who I loved." She let her top fall back down. "I keep the scar to remind myself that I failed."

"You didn't fail. It's natural to hesitate when it's someone you care for." Christine remembered how she had done the same thing when Marcus had threatened her. Only Spock's love and faith in her had saved them all. She looked away. "I think I'm ready to talk about Spock now."

Drake wiped at her eyes almost angrily. "Good." She sat down on the mat. "Let's get started." She took a deep breath, but her voice was a long way from her normal no-nonsense tone when she asked, "Tell me how it started. You hid for so long. Why did you become a slayer again?"

"It's a long story."

Drake smiled. "We have plenty of time." She leaned back. "Start at the beginning."

Christine thought of that awful day on Alpha Nu-M when her old life had finally caught up with her. She grabbed her water from the bench, sat down on the mat opposite Drake. "Once upon a time, there lived a very tired slayer."

Drake smiled. "Make it a fairy tale if it's easier."

"No. That's okay. It started when I filled in for McCoy on a landing party to a missing colony."

Drake nodded, then reached for her own water, settling in. Christine had the impression she'd sit there forever if she had to. Christine felt suddenly very self-conscious.

"Do you think we could spar while we do this?"

Drake just laughed. "You lasted about two seconds longer than I thought you would." She took Christine's water, put it down with her own and stalked back to the mat.

As they began to circle each other, Drake said, "Okay, now, on this landing party..."

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

Uhura heard a soft cough at her doorway. She looked over, expecting to see Len, but Kirk stood in the doorway.

"Hi. So this is where they've hidden you?"

She gestured to her cramped little office. "This is it. What can I do for you?"

He stepped in, sat down in the extra chair. "I need to get hold of Chris and I'm not sure how to do that since she's in class..."

She could feel a smile starting, didn't try to stop it. "You're a terrible liar. You get a message to her the same way you do to anyone else. The system knows where she is." She laughed. "Or if the system doesn't, I do. And I know you know that. Why are you really here?"

He smiled, the grin that always made her feel better. "I can't just be curious how you're doing?"

"If that's all this was, you wouldn't have made up some story about needing Christine's comm address." She leaned in, lowering her voice. "Len misses you too, you know."

He looked down and she sighed. Two men, who'd been best friends. Both too damn stubborn to admit how much they were hurting.

"Len's in town. We're going to lunch. You could come along?"

"I don't want to intrude." He stood up.

"You wouldn't be intruding. He'd love to see you."

He shook his head tightly.

"Why are you here if you aren't even willing to try?"

He shrugged. "Just wanted to know he was okay, I guess. You'll take good care of him?"

"The best. But that doesn't mean he won't miss you. Or need you."

Kirk nodded. Then he hurried out.

Uhura sighed. Such an idiot. She knew he was lonely, knew he must feel adrift among the admirals, none of whom he counted as a close friend as far as she knew. And Len was no better, unwilling to talk to Kirk until his friend admitted he'd been wrong to give up his command. Both of them missing each other, both of them missing Spock. Neither willing to move a muscle off his position.

"Why does it matter so much?" Uhura whispered. Why couldn't either of them just let go and reach out to each other? She and Christine had managed to do it. What was wrong with these two supposedly intelligent men?

"This seat taken?" Christine came bounding into the room then stopped short when she saw Uhura's face. "What?"

"You're awfully animated."

Christine shrugged. "Maybe. Good workout yesterday." She reached into her bag, pulled out an apple. "Want half?"

"I'm going to lunch with Len as soon as he gets here. Don't want to spoil my appetite." She studied her friend. Christine really did seem happier. "So your new watcher gave you a good workout."

"In more ways than one."

Uhura felt her eyes widen.

"Not like that." Christine laughed. "My new watcher is also a counselor."

"You're kidding?"

Christine leaned back, bit deep into the apple. "Nope, I'm absolutely serious. I guess that I am officially so screwed up that the Watcher's Council sent me a counselor." She chewed thoughtfully. "At least she seems to be a competent one. It feels good to have someone to talk to."

Uhura felt a pang and looked away. "You can talk to me."

Christine's dismay was immediate. "Ny, I didn't mean like that. It's just that...well, you like me. You want me to be well, and maybe, because you're my friend, you're willing to overlook my little problems. But she isn't. She doesn't care about me. So she can be objective about this." She took Uhura's hand. "I didn't mean..."

Uhura squeezed her hand. "I know. I guess I'm still a little overly sensitive when it comes to our friendship." She laughed. "God, and I was just comparing us favorably to Len and the Captain."

Christine smiled. "Well, we are doing better than they are. Two more stubborn men were never born."

"That's true." Uhura leaned back. "So you never told me how your post-finals celebration was?"

"Well, the restaurant was still there. The pate was sublime, the mussels to die for, and the coq au vin out of this world."

"I mean how the captain was?"

Christine smiled. "He was fun. We drank a lot of wine. Walked along the beach for a long time. Talked about things, nothing important. It was nice. Easy."

"Uncomplicated."

"Exactly. Being with him, it's simple. I don't feel as if I have to prove anything. Sort of like it was with Spike, except Jim won't burst into flames if he goes outside."

"Plus you're not boinking Jim," Uhura said in what was almost a question.

Christine slapped her arm. "You have a one-track mind, Ny. God. No, I'm not boinking...what kind of word is boinking anyway?"

Uhura laughed. "A tried and true word meaning to fu--"

"--I know what it means, Ny." Christine shook her head as she stood up. "I'm going to go eat this in the sunshine, while there's still some out there."

"Good idea. You could use a tan. Make it easier to tell you from those nasty vampires." Uhura had initially been shocked at how pale Christine had become, but she'd either grown used to her friend's pallor or Christine had been getting more sunshine.

Christine's expression darkened. "It's what's inside that matters. I guess as I'm darkening my outside, I'll try to lighten my insides." She frowned. "That came out sort of icky, didn't it?"

Uhura laughed. "Go enjoy your apple."

"Will do." Christine turned to go, right as McCoy walked in. "Hey there, stranger."

McCoy grinned. "'Bout damn time I saw you, Chapel." He pulled her into a hug. "You look better than the last time I saw you. Medical school must agree with you."

She nodded. "And I've got to get back to that in an hour. So if you'll excuse me." She pulled him in for a second hug.

Uhura grinned. "You could eat with us?"

"I have studying to do. And more food in my pack." She grinned. "I'm going to sit in the warm vampire-free sunshine and concentrate on the accelerated anatomy class I was foolish enough to take."

She left with a smile for both of them.

"She looks good."

Uhura nodded. "Yeah, she does. I think it's from hanging around with Admiral Kirk." She watched McCoy's face, saw the quick reaction at the mention of his friend, then the curtain came down, leaving his expression blank.

"Do them good to spend some time together." He held out his arm. "You ready, darlin'?"

Uhura took his arm, shooting him a fondly exasperated glance. Christine was right. Two more stubborn men had never been born.

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

"Is there room on that bench for an old man?"

Christine felt her hackles rise. Silver? Here? She looked up, had to shield her eyes from the sun he'd managed not to block, and immediately wondered if he had done that deliberately to put her at a disadvantage.

"Hello, Ms. Chapel."

"Kevin." She knew he hated it when she called him that.

He almost hid the grimace as he sat down next to her. "Beautiful day."

"I doubt you came all the way to San Francisco to talk about the weather."

He ignored her. "I'm always struck by the loveliness of this city. Such unique character." He turned to look at her. "Genteel loveliness on the surface that hides a gritty determination to survive, no matter the cost."

She could feel her face tighten. "Are we talking about the city?"

"I thought I was." His smile seemed genuine.

She didn't smile, finding it hard to trust this friendly Silver. "What the hell do you want?"

He leaned back with a longsuffering sigh. "Ah, Christine. When will this enmity between us end?"

"When hell freezes over?"

He laughed. "At least I always know where I stand with you."

She studied him. His hair was much whiter than when she'd last seen him, and there was less of it; the lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened. But if anything, the changes only made him look more distinguished. The quintessential English gentleman. And her enemy. Or at least not her friend.

"Emma tells me you've agreed to work with her." It was by the emphasis he put on the word 'work' that she knew he wasn't talking about slaying.

Christine laughed bitterly. "What else did she tell you?"

"Not much, actually. She's a professional, you know. Counselor-patient confidentiality and all that."

"Yes, I'm sure she'd never let slip what a slayer might say."

He frowned. "As I'm sure she explained, Ms. Drake does not usually help slayers. Your lives are short and violent, yes, but full of purpose. Barring the few that go rogue, most slayers don't need her kind of assistance." He smiled gently. "Am I speaking too plainly, Christine? How many slayers ever reach your age? And if you'd died at seventeen, would you be carrying around the pain you feel now?"

She looked away.

"It's the watchers she worries about. The ones who've lost a slayer. All of them left alone, knowing he or she has let down the one person in the word they most needed to protect and guide. Do you have any idea how many watchers commit suicide after their charges are lost?"

"I've heard the same story from her. And to be honest, she told it better. More pathos. Much more believable." She studied him, tried to imagine what kind of watcher he would be. "Have you ever had a slayer of your own?"

He nodded. "Yes. A long time ago." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "She died, of course. I felt responsible. I still do. Every time a slayer dies, I feel responsible because I'm in charge. Do you have any idea what that's been like." He didn't seem to expect her to answer. "Emma's been quite helpful."

"So you feel guilty that you send us out to die? Good."

He didn't look at her. "I'm not inhuman, Chapel. Although, I know you think I'm some kind of monster. I do care about the girls in my charge. I take every death personally." He looked down at his hands. "I'm a father you know. I have two daughters, a little older than you. I spent their adolescence terrified they'd be called. Then I spent the next years plagued by guilt at how relieved I was that they hadn't been."

"I didn't know." She met his eyes, saw no deceit in his expression.

"Why should you? To you...to any slayer, I'm just the head of the council. The bastard who sends them into endless battle, who doesn't give a whit if they come back or not. It's how it's always been. I've accepted that. But Ms. Drake and those like her have helped me weather the times when it hasn't been that easy to accept my role."

Christine looked away.

"We have to help each other. I know that you don't like me. You know that I don't like you overmuch either. That's immaterial. You're the most experienced slayer we have. One with ties to Starfleet, ties that have already proved very useful. We need to start cooperating, not working at cross purposes. There are so many ways you can help us, so many ways we can assist you, if you'll just let us." When she didn't answer, he said softly. "You can start by telling me what you know of Kirsu?"

Christine forced away any reaction, shot him a blank look. "Is that someplace in Japan?"

He shook his head.

"Sorry. Never heard of it."

"Neither had we. Until Vega Hydra." His gentle look dropped away. "How did you find so many slayers to fight in a Gotterdammerung?"

"So many? How many?" She smiled innocently. Vampires exploded into dust and LaVelle had torched the fallen slayers. Nothing should have been left for the watcher's to count.

"You burned the bodies."

"Standard practice. Couldn't have anyone rising." She shot him a sarcastic grin. "It's a watcher approved method."

He stood up. "Damn it, Christine. I saw the images from the planet. The tracks all over that field. We took readings of the blood, of the ashes from the fires, of the footprints. We have a good idea how many there were. You had a bloody army with you, and I want to know where you got it."

She looked up at him calmly. "Did you really have any daughters? Or was that story solely to soften me up?"

He ignored her question. "My men found a native boy hiding in the woods. He'd been lost, stumbled upon the field by accident and had seen the whole thing, told my men all about the great battle. Of the women of all ages who fought the monsters. Monsters who blew up into dust when they died. He identified your picture as one of the survivors. Said you and another woman were talking about this Kirsu. Now, tell me what it means."

She gathered up her things, stood up slowly. "It's the latest sushi sensation at the cafeteria here. You should try it."

"I'll find out. Either with your help or without it."

"Don't you mean Ms. Drake will?"

His face tightened.

"She's not working for you, is she? Not the way you want her to. I guess she really is a professional, after all." Christine laughed. "I've never heard of Kirsu, Silver. If I find out what it means, I'll let you know." She turned her back on him, walked away.

"This is not over." His voice was low, dangerous as a snake.

She turned back. Her voice was even more dangerous. "And it never will be, not until you're dead."

"Or you are."

She felt a thrill of anger run through her, let her lip curl up. "Whichever. Ms. Drake tells me--and I think that she's right--that I don't happen to care all that much." She stared at him, her smile as mocking as she could make it, a cold rage showing in her eyes. "Do you?"

He looked away.

"That's what I thought." Her lip curled up even more and she walked away from him.

She heard him turn, walk the other way. Should she warn LaVelle? And if she tried to help, would Christine just end up betraying the slayers' sanctuary to the watchers?

She'd have to think on this. Maybe she would ask Jim. He'd know what to do. He was one of the best tacticians she knew.

------------------------***

Kirk buzzed the chime at Christine's entryway.

"Hello?"

"It's me; I'm on my way up." He stepped over to the retina scan and waited for the system to recognize him. When the door clicked, he pulled it open and ran up the stairs.

She had her door open and was looking at him with alarm, a stake in one hand. "What's wrong?" Then she got a better look at what he was wearing. "Why are you so dressed up? You said this place was casual."

"It is. We're not going there." He brushed past her. "Tell me you have something dressy in that closet of yours." He didn't think his odds were good, given the state of her decorating, but maybe they could stop on the way and buy something.

"Okay. Whoa. What is going on?"

He took her by the shoulders. "You know I wouldn't ask this if it weren't important."

"You haven't asked me anything yet."

"Be my date." He cringed as he said it. "Admiral Richter is on Earth. Nogura's hosting a cocktail party. All the brass will be there. It's a command performance with very late notice." He saw her face. "We won't have to stay long, I promise. Please?"

"Couldn't you just go alone and then come back and get me for dinner?"

He frowned. "Is a vampire supposed to rise tonight?" He'd thought her patrol would be light.

"No. I just don't like cocktail parties. And what would I say to a bunch of admirals?"

"Whatever you want. Or nothing. Just smile and nod if you feel like it. I don't care. I promised Nogura I'd be there."

She sat down, arms across her chest. "And you've gone to a hundred of these shindigs alone. Why do you suddenly need a date?"

He sat down in the chair opposite her, felt something poke him and reached between the cushions, drawing a stake out. He shot her a look.

She shrugged. "I don't have much time to keep house. Sorry. Did it rip anything?"

"No." He put on his best 'do it for me' face. "Chris? Please?"

She just laughed. "Why tonight?"

He gave up. "One of Nogura's staffers is going to be there. She's a bit of a fan of mine. Always very admiring. After Alma left, that felt good. And this woman seemed interesting."

"Ah, so you dated her?"

"We went out a couple of times. That was enough...for me."

"But not for her, I take it?"

"No. And she's somewhat persistent."

Christine just looked amused.

"It's not funny. I think that if she sees I'm with someone, she'll get the message and back off."

Christine got up with a sigh. "Too bad you're not still 'with' someone. Alma could have turned her into cinder in no time."

If Alma hadn't left him, he wouldn't be in this mess. "Well, you could stake her."

She turned to look at him, and he laughed mockingly to show he was kidding. Kind of.

"Please?"

"I'm going to find something to wear." She shook her head, but he wasn't sure if it was at his request or at her own capitulation. "You owe me a really nice dinner tonight for this. I had planned to study."

"Anywhere you want." They'd be dressed for the best tonight. "Actually, there's a new place in New Orleans I've been wanting to try."

There was no noise from the bedroom. He got up, peeked in. "Chris?"

She came out of the bathroom wearing a midnight blue dress that fit as if she'd poured it on. She was trying to pull it away from her body.

Slaying certainly kept her in shape.

"It wasn't this tight before." She turned to the closet. "I think I have another one."

"No. That's good."

She turned to him. He smiled, allowed himself to give her a long once over.

She burst out laughing. "Oh, stop it. It's too damned tight and you know it. They'll think you rented me for the night." She frowned. "Which, in essence, you sort of have. Amazing what I'll do for a meal."

She dragged a black dress out of her closet, ducked back into the bathroom. A moment later the door opened and she tossed the blue dress at him. It landed on his head, covering his face.

"Nice perfume." He freed himself and tossed the dress on the bed. If her chrono was right, they would be just late enough to be fashionable, not so late to be rude. Stupid damn rules that he'd had to learn over the last few months. He hated this job.

She stepped out of the bathroom, a black dress falling gently around her to stop at mid thigh. "Okay?"

"Perfect."

She slipped on some shoes and then grabbed a small bag, which she proceeded to fill with a stake, a cross, a small bottle of holy water.

"Chris, we're going to a cocktail party not a war." He smiled as she pushed another stake into his jacket pocket. He could smell her perfume, the warmth of her body making it rise off of her. "You smell good."

"You said that already."

He led her out of the apartment. "No, technically, I said I liked your perfume. Since it smells differently on your skin than on your dress, I can say you smell good without being redundant."

"You sound like Spock."

It was an offhand comment. Just a little joke. Yet they both fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"God, can't we even mention his name?" she said.

He took her arm. "We can. We just have to get used to doing it," he said softly. "This feels a bit like a betrayal."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not a date, Jim."

"I know. But would he agree?"

They walked the half block to where the streets got busier. Kirk was able to hail a flitter-cab. Chris had fallen silent, sliding across the seat to make room for him without comment. As the flitter took them out of the city proper and to Nogura's house, she stared out the window.

"Chris?"

"He'd be jealous," she said softly. "The old Spock would be. What do you think the new Spock feels? Anything?"

He touched her neck, slowly squeezing out some of the tension he could feel. "I'm not sure."

"He tried to take me back with him. To Vulcan."

"Yes, you said."

She turned to look at him. "No, Jim. He tried to take me. Did the neck pinch thing. If Spike hadn't distracted him long enough for me to wake up..."

Kirk shook his head. "Spock? Did that? Maybe you misunderst--"

"Jim, you don't misunderstand a neck pinch. I said I wouldn't go, and he acted like he accepted it and then boom I was out and he would have taken me back to Vulcan." She smiled grimly. "He wouldn't have kept me there long though."

Kirk still had trouble picturing Spock doing what she said. But if he had, then it was suddenly a lot clearer why he'd run to Gol. Kirk felt as if a weight had fallen off him. She'd told him it was her fault Spock had left, but Kirk had never quite believed her. Now he did. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

She sighed. "I know he did it because he loved me. And sometimes I think that maybe I should have gone with him." She turned, looked out the window again. "But then I wonder what else he would have taken, how much more of my life I'd have lost control of. You know?"

He took a deep breath. "He loved you, Chris. You can't ever doubt that. We all saw it. And when you left..."

"Was it me? Was it the love he had for me? Or was it that 'his' woman was missing? Because I'm not sure anymore."

"Chris, that's insane. He loved you. And he wasn't the kind to force himself."

"But at the end. He wouldn't let go. Couldn't stop pushing. He was so sure he knew best."

"I think you're just angry at him for what he did to you. And he did it in a moment of passion, right? You'd just made love?"

She nodded.

"We both know that passion wasn't something he was accustomed to dealing with. He went over the top, but he's not used to feeling those things. I don't think you can blame him for trying to fix things. And I don't think he'd do that if the circumstances hadn't been extraordinary."

"Maybe you're right." She turned to look at him. "I miss him. I've missed him since I ran. And being with him again, it felt good. But not right. Does that make sense?"

He nodded. Began to knead her neck again.

She smiled. "That feels good."

"And right?"

Their eyes met. He stopped the neck rub.

"I meant--"

"I know what you meant." He gave a few more gentle squeezes then pulled his hand away.

"So you dated this staffer?" She smiled tightly, clearly trying to get them to less tenuous ground.

He was happy to play along. "Once."

"She pretty?"

"Very."

"Smart?"

"Yep."

Christine sighed. "And what was wrong with her again?"

He'd asked himself the very same thing. "Something was off about her. Something..." He frowned.

"What?"

"I was about to say dark."

"Well, I'm glad I brought the stakes then." She grinned at him. "Just in case."

He grinned back.

"So, umm, how friendly are we supposed to be?"

He smiled, then let his look become less friendly, more intense. Smoldering.

"That's amazing. How do you do that?" She grinned.

He was suddenly struck by how pretty she was when she smiled.

"It's an acquired art."

"So you can teach me?"

He chuckled at the thought. "You're already a slayer. Isn't that lethal enough? Let us poor non-chosen ones enjoy our small powers."

She rolled her eyes. "Small powers, my ass." She leaned across him, looked out the window at the estate gates that were slowly opening for their cab to turn in. "Wow."

"Nogura's from old money. His great-great-great-grandfather made his fortune in some sort of computer system design."

He felt a chill at the back of his neck, turned to look out the window and thought he saw a figure in a black cloak standing among the evergreens. He tensed, then blinked. There was nothing in the trees.

"What is it?"

He shook his head. The hair on his neck was still standing on end. "Do you know any sorcerers, Chris?"

She laughed. "Other than you, no." Her smile fell when she saw his face. "Why?"

"I want to know more about this so-called power I have." He resisted the urge to turn and look at the trees.

"Okay. I'll ask Emma."

"Thanks." He shot her a grateful look.

The cab slowed then stopped in front of a grand entrance. The door opened. He heard Christine gulp.

"Ready?" He stepped out of the cab, reached back and helped her out.

She took his arm, walked next to him, her body comfortably close as Kirk nodded to the butler.

"This staffer, she turns up at a lot of these get-togethers?"

He shook his head. "No. She travels with Richter some of the time. At least while he's working on Nogura's pet project. She's officially a sort of aide-de-camp, although she's an admiral herself. We all know she's Nogura's spy." He smiled and nodded to an admiral near the door.

"Does she have a name?" Chris asked as they walked into the glittering entry hall.

"Lori. Lori Ciani," Kirk said as the door closed behind them.

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

Christine took the drink Kirk handed her and amused herself by trying to pick his would be stalker out of the crowd. Several women were unusually pretty, but they seemed to be clearly with the men on whose every word they hung. Christine kept looking, then stopped her search when she realized that across the room another woman was staring at her.

With a smile that Christine couldn't read, the woman walked across the room, stopping to talk to one couple, hugging another woman, before reaching Christine and Kirk.

"Jim," she said. Her voice was soft and sweet, almost girlish.

Kirk turned away from the bar to face her, his expression composed, his voice casual and relaxed as he said, "Lori, I wondered if you'd be here. I see you have a drink, so I won't offer to get you one." He moved closer to Christine, his hand snaking around her waist.

Christine studied the other woman. She was small, very pretty in a gamine way, dark hair cut short, probably to better accentuate her huge brown eyes. Eyes that were staring at Christine as if Lori could read every single one of her secrets in just a glance. Christine forced herself not to look away, let some of her own slayer steel flow into her gaze.

Kirk's hand tightened on hers, and Christine wondered if he thought she was going to attack the other woman.

"I'm being rude," he said. "Have you two met?" He took a sip of his drink.

Lori smiled, as if she enjoyed the little game the three of them were playing out. "We haven't." She was watching Kirk intently.

"Lori Ciani, Christine Chapel. Chris is a very good friend of mine."

Lori's smile turned mocking, "Oh, Jim, do you really think I'll fall for that old tri--" She suddenly looked at where his hand rested on Christine's waist, stared at it as if it were a puzzle. Frowning deeply, she looked up at Christine, and as their eyes met, Lori's suddenly changed from brown to black. Her nostrils flared, as if she could smell something the others couldn't. Whatever the scent was, she didn't seem to like it.

Christine felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and she reached down, trying to open the bag that hung off her shoulder, intent on getting to the stake.

Lori was quicker; her hand fell over Christine's, keeping her from pulling the weapon out. "There's no need for that. I don't mean any harm. I was just surprised." Her eyes slowly faded back to their original color. She turned to Jim. "A slayer. I'm impressed. And somewhat mollified if that's who you're going to throw me over for."

Christine realized Lori had leaned in, was covering their interaction so that to anyone watching it would look as if they were all the closest friends, perhaps enjoying a bit of gossip.

"Let go of my hand," Christine said softly.

Lori smiled again, not bothering to hide the bite in her expression. But she pulled her hand away and backed off slightly.

Kirk said softly, "Would one of you like to tell me what's going on?"

"You really don't know, do you?" Lori laughed, the easy ripple of laughter causing several people around them to turn, grinning as if the humor was contagious.

"What are you?" Christine asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Lori waved to someone across the room. "You must excuse me. As exhilarating as it is being around you two, there are more mundane people I should talk to. Perhaps we'll run into each other again, Christine?"

"It's possible." But not if Christine could help it. The woman gave her the creeps.