It's Not Exactly Stealing

By Jill

Chapter 11

"What’s the plan for this afternoon?" Joe asked Duncan as they left the hotel restaurant and entered the lobby.

"I think Methos is heading back to the Magic Box to get another look at those books. We were barely able to pull him away when we dropped by just after dawn. I told Dawn I’d teach her some self defense this afternoon, so I’m heading over to their house. She said Buffy cleared out their basement to workout in. And, I don’t know what Legolas plans for today, other than avoiding Anya," Duncan catalogued.

"I think he’s already at the girls’ house," Joe replied. "I ran into him this morning and he said something about Buffy and a longbow. We’ll probably see him there."

"We?" Duncan asked curiously.

"Buffy and Legolas must be through with the archery lessons by now, he left a couple hours ago," Joe reasoned. "She was telling me about a secret military operation and a Frankenstein monster when you found that reference to the cult of Thalos. I’m hoping I can persuade her to finish the story."

"First Dracula and now Frankenstein," Duncan said shaking his head slightly in wonder. "It’s like the midnight creature feature around here."

"Dracula? There’s a Dracula?" Joe asked surprised.

"According to Buffy and Dawn," Duncan said with a shrug.

"Don’t let me forget to ask about that one too."

* * * * * *

Per Legolas’s instructions, Buffy had retrieved the target normally kept in the basement for stake tossing practice and set it up at the far end of the yard. Then she attentively listened to Legolas’s in-depth description of all things regarding archery, from bow manufacture to the best stance for a quick aim--for the first hour at least. Then Buffy’s eyes started to glaze over. Legolas--totally immersed in his most favorite topic and completely oblivious to Buffy’s reaction--nattered on about the finer points of archery for another half hour.

Buffy, unable to take anymore, finally interjected, "You know, that’s all really fascinating, great info, good to know and all, but maybe we could skip to the hands on portion of the lesson. I’ve always been the jump right in and get started type when it comes to learning stuff."

"I suppose we could do that," Legolas said reluctantly. As much as he liked introducing all and sundry to his favorite sport/pass-time/way-of-life, the thought of putting his ‘baby’--his Lothlorien bow--in the hands of a rank amateur was slightly worrisome. "But, you must understand. Archery is an art. It takes years simply to learn the proper method of drawing a longbow. Don’t be disappointed if your efforts don’t yield swift success," Legolas cautioned as he slowly handed over his beloved weapon.

"Cool," Buffy said, getting her first up-close look at the bow. "Arrow?" she asked holding out one hand for one.

Legolas took one out of his sorely depleted quiver and handed it to Buffy. Noting that he had a grand total of five arrows left, Legolas made a mental note to spend the next few days replenishing his stock.

Keeping in mind everything Legolas had said during his interminable lecture, Buffy fit the arrow to the bowstring, pulled back, and let the arrow fly--all in one smooth motion. A split second later the arrow thwacked home in the target, four inches to the left of center. Buffy wrinkled her nose in consternation, and conceded, "You’re right, getting the hang of this is going to take some time."

"Are you sure you’ve never used a longbow before?" Legolas quizzed Buffy.

"Uh... no. Why?" Buffy asked puzzled, they’d been over that already.

"For a first effort, that was amazing," Legolas said in wonder, mystical duties and a little hand to hand combat predisposed the elf to respect Buffy as a warrior. But, being a prodigy with a bow and arrow, that really meant something. "I’ve never seen anyone learn so fast, not even the hunters of Mirkwood--the best archers in Middle-earth."

"But I missed," Buffy protested, not getting what the big deal was.

"You hit the target," Legolas pointed out.

"And that’s unusual for a first time out?" Buffy asked.

"Extremely," Legolas confirmed.

"Slayer powers," Buffy shrugged the matter aside, "go figure."

* * * * * *

Duncan and Joe took the rental to the Summer’s residence which was located across town, not a great distance away, but farther than Joe wanted to walk if he didn’t have to. They parked in the vacant drive way and went up the front steps and on to the wide porch. Looking around at the porch swing and the not yet painted woodwork on the windows, Joe observed, "Nice place, seems like there should be a bunch of kids living here."

"There are, in a way," Duncan explained as he rang the door bell. "Dawn told me about it when we walked them home this morning. After their mom died last year, from an aneurysm, their friend Willow moved in along with another girl named Tara. But, Tara was shot and killed a couple months ago, right in front of Willow. Willow had some sort of breakdown and went away to recover."

"Damn... that’s hard. Losing their mother and a friend like that," Joe said sympathetically.

"Yeah, the more I find out about what those girls have been going through the worse it gets," Duncan agreed.

Then sounds started coming from behind the front door. Dawn opened the door and said, "Hi guys," stepping back out of the way, "I can’t actually invite you in, even though--duh, sunlight--I know you’re not vamps. We have a sort of no inviting anyone in, ever, rule. Don’t want to start any bad habits."

"That’s understandable," Duncan said, taking off his second favorite duster--his first favorite was lost the night before during the fight with the vampires--and hanging it on the coat rack next to the door. "Is Legolas here?"

"Yeah, he’s in the kitchen watching Buffy bake, or try to bake. Judging from her past lack of success, it’s kind of up in the air--what she’s actually doing," Dawn explained.

"I thought he came over to give archery lessons?" Duncan said.

"They did that already," Dawn said with a shrug. "The being a quick study with any kind of weapon that comes with the Slayer package wasn’t what he was expecting. He was kind of surprised that she learned everything he could teach her in a couple hours and just needs practice to be a master archer. Buffy’s telling him about Anya and how he needs to be firm with her--while he recovers from archery shock."

"After she finishes dolling out advise, do you think your sister might be in a storytelling mood?" Joe asked hopefully. "I hear she’s met Dracula."

"She’ll be more than happy to tell you all about it," Dawn said, rolling her eyes. "After she staked him, you’d think she’d be less impressed. But, noooo. Mention Dracula and she has to go on and on about how he’s heard of her."

"Heard the story too many times I take it," Duncan said with a grin. "I think you can miss it this time around. Show me to the basement and we can get started."

"Cool," Dawn said, excited by the prospect of learning some actual fighting techniques.

Dawn and Duncan went down to the basement to begin Dawn’s training and Joe joined Buffy and Legolas in the kitchen, hoping to finagle a story out of the Slayer, or possibly one from the elf.

* * * * * *

"What’re you making?" Joe asked as he sat down beside Legolas at the kitchen counter.

"Carrot cake," Buffy replied. "It was my mom’s favorite," she said with a wistful smile.

"It must be especially hard this time of year," Joe said sympathetically.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "Last Christmas, there was so much going on, it didn’t really get a chance to hit me. I barely noticed Christmas had come and gone. This year, it’s harder."

"You didn’t notice Christmas?" Joe asked surprised. "There must have been a lot going on."

"Hell god trying to end the world," Buffy said, as she peeled carrots and put them in the food processor. "It was a whole big thing."

"A god?!" exclaimed Legolas. "How could a god try to destroy a world, his own creation?"

"Glory didn’t create this world," Buffy attempted to explain. "She was god of a hell dimension and was banished here by some of her fellow gods. She didn’t really care one way or another about this dimension. She just wanted to get home. If that meant killing everything in this universe, she didn’t have a problem with that."

"If she was a god, how could you fight her?" Joe asked.

"With a lot of help from my friends," Buffy said. "Willow, who’s a badass Wicca, did a spell that weakened her. And, I had a troll hammer from Anya that could hurt her. Spike’s Buffybot, which is still many levels of creepy, even softened her up some. But, it was close. Even with all the help, I still died in the process."

"Died? You mean like the time you drowned?" Joe said.

"No, I mean dead for three months, had a funeral and everything dead. There’s still a tombstone with my name on it in Sunnydale Memorial. You know, it’s weird. The Master kills me and I’m technically dead for like a minute and it still freaks me. Then I die a second time, am dead for months, actually have to claw my way out of my grave and it doesn’t really bother me anymore. I mean I still have the occasional buried alive nightmare--that’s the kind of thing that sticks with you--but when I’m awake I’m not big with the fear," Buffy said musingly as she poured the grated carrots into her cake batter and stirred vigorously.

"You were dead, and now you’re alive again. You must truly be a hero for the gods to grant you the gift of renewed life," Legolas said, looking at Buffy in awe.

Buffy snorted at Legolas’s assumption. "Coming back to life wasn’t exactly a gift and I doubt the gods had much to do with it," she said cynically. "Willow and the rest of my friends were the ones to bring me back, and they really shouldn’t have."

"Your friend can bring back the dead?" Joe asked incredulously.

"She can, if the circumstances are right. Or, at least she could. Now that she’s given up the dark magics, she probably can’t anymore," Buffy said, pouring batter into cake pans.

"Blood magic," Legolas gasped. "There are tales of sorcerers who could trade one life for another, but I thought they were myth, scary stories to tell on dark nights." Then recalling that this was a friend of Buffy’s he added, "Even if the one she killed to give you life was an enemy, it was still wrong--although it may not have seemed so at the time."

"I don’t know. Trading in some murderer or rapist for a person who does a lot of good doesn’t seem like such a bad deal to me," Joe said pragmatically.

"But, it’s among the darkest of dark magics, grounded deeply in selfishness and lack of respect for life. The practice itself is a corruption," Legolas argued.

"Excuse me guys, sorry to interrupt your philosophical argument and everything, but I should probably mention that Will didn’t kill anyone, not any people that is, at least not to bring me back. She killed a baby deer. And, as bad as killing Bambi is, that wasn’t really the reason I said she shouldn’t have done it," Buffy interrupted as she put the cake pans in the oven.

"Then why shouldn’t she have done it?" Joe asked. "If you don’t mind talking about it," Joe tacked on, belatedly realizing the touchiness of the subject.

"Because, I was dead, finished with being alive, and very happy to be that way. I’m only now getting the hang of this living thing again. After being ripped out of heaven, I was pretty out of it for awhile," Buffy explained matter of factly. "And, I really don’t mind talking about it. Being dead wasn’t half bad. I mostly don’t mention it for my friends’ sakes. They don’t like to think about me being dead. It was a pretty bad time for them."

"You were in heaven?" Joe asked in amazement. Then realizing how what he just said sounded he added, "Not that I think you couldn’t get in. It’s just that talking to someone who’s been dead and knows what comes after is... unbelievable."

"You know what happens to the souls of men after death?" Legolas asked, curiosity momentarily overcoming his disturbance over what happened.

"Yes and yes, kind of," Buffy answered, pushing herself up to sit on the counter across from Legolas and Joe. "It’s all pretty fuzzy now, but I remember being happy. Completely happy, no worry, no fear, no pain."

"That is... good to know. I have many mortal friends and I have wondered," Legolas said.

"I thought you said elves can die too," Buffy said, brow wrinkled in confusion. "You say that like you never will."

"Our physical bodies can be destroyed, but out spirits never leave the world. When we die we come to reside in the halls of Mandos which is in our world but on the Western Continent. Other, still living elves, can visit the dead there and the dead can leave the hall itself as long as they do not leave Valinor," Legolas explained. "The race of men experiences true death. Their spirits leave the world and go to we know not where."

"Okay, you’re saying elves don’t really die-die, like humans die. They just get confined to a specific place on the planet and people can still visit," Buffy said, trying to see if she heard right.

"Yes," Legolas agreed. "Except not all people can visit. Only immortal races such as elves and the Maiar are allowed in the western lands. Mortal sailors have tried to find it, but storms and fog prevent them from landing."

"Trippy," Buffy said.

"What’s so special about the Western Continent?" Joe asked.

"It is the home of the Valar, who are... lesser gods is as close as I can explain," Legolas answered. "They were created by Illuvatar, the creator of all things, to fulfill his vision."

"You’re saying your people actually live with and can literally have a conversation with gods and the spirits of dead people?" Joe asked, completely blown away by the concept.

"My people, other elves live there, but not me or my... family of elves," Legolas attempted to clarify, "I am Sindarin, my kindred and I stayed in Middle-earth. The West calls to me, but I have too many ties in the land of my birth to leave just yet. But, other elves, the Calaquendi, went into the West and a group, the Noldor, returned to Middle-earth. I have not seen these things for myself, but it is known through our songs and tales. And, the Noldor spoke of it until their departure just a few years ago. The age of elves is passing in Middle-earth, the age of men is upon us and the land shall be left to them. Soon all elves will live in the West, but I haven’t yet been there."

"I’ve dedicated my life to documenting the activities of so called Immortals, but even they die. It’s strange to think that there’s such a thing as being more immortal than an Immortal," Joe said slowly, having no idea what to think of Legolas’s revelations about elven nature.

"Weird," Buffy reiterated her previous sentiment, shaking her head slightly. "It’s like oops, I died, and now I have to go live in China. Although, that would have to kinda suck, if all your friends and family are still living in the States. I’m guessing you don’t have email and long-distance plans with extra weekend minutes to keep in touch with people living half a world away. You’d just have to wait for them to get to China too, which really doesn’t seem like a good thing since that means they’re dead too, or something... " Buffy trailed off, completely confused by all the ramifications and alternatives.

"You see my... difficulty," Legolas said, nodding at Buffy’s analysis of the situation. "Sail into the West to be with all of my kin who have gone before me, or stay in Middle-earth until the last, to be with the mortal friends I have there. I wish to be there for what time they have left, but I do not want to be there at the end. Death is foreign to my race and very...disturbing."

"What difference does it make?" Buffy asked, brow wrinkled in confusion. "Whether you see them die or are on the other side of the world and just know they must be dead? It all adds up to the same thing, right? They’re gone, and you’re not going to see them anymore."

"Knowing and seeing are two different things," Joe explained. "As long as you don’t actually see the body or know the details it’s not real. You can still picture them like you last saw them, alive and well, happy somewhere. But, once it’s real for you, there’s no going back. Then dead’s just dead."

"That’s it! Exactly," Legolas exclaimed. "I thought I was simply being foolish. I could never quite justify the nagging sense of dread to myself."

"Oh," Buffy said, the sense of Joe’s explanation finally sinking in. "I see what you mean. I guess it just doesn’t come up too often around here, death usually being kind of the up close and personal, couldn’t avoid it if you tried, variety."

The three silently contemplated what they had learned for a few moments then Buffy said, "Well, I think I’ve reached my morbid quotient for today. Now, what can we talk about besides death? Legolas, you never said what you’re going to say to Anya next time she corners you."

"I don’t know," Legolas answered with a sigh of frustration. "I have dropped every subtle hint I could think of and still she persists."

"Anya doesn’t do subtle, you’re going to have to come right out and say you’re not interested," Buffy informed the elf.

"I don’t want to insult her," Legolas protested.

"Don’t worry too much about that. As long as you avoid old, fat, or ugly as excuses, Anya’s not going to be offended. Other than about her looks she’s pretty thick skinned," Buffy pointed out. Seeing Legolas’s continued reluctance, Buffy then suggested, "Or you could always lie. Lying would work."

"Lie?" Legolas asked dubiously, arching one eyebrow in a critical fashion.

"Just a little white one, so as not to hurt her feelings. It’s not even really a lie, more of a fib," Buffy defended her suggestion. "You could tell her that..."

"You have someone waiting for you back home," Joe finished for Buffy. "She can’t take a rejection personally if it’s because you’re already taken."

"Yeah, good idea," Buffy agreed with Joe’s suggestion. "I was going to say vow of celibacy or maybe that you’re gay. Girlfriend back home is way better."

"You’re really not a very good liar, are you?" Joe said, looking at Buffy incredulously.

"Nope, notoriously bad at it. Fortunately, something about living on a Hellmouth makes most people willing to believe just about anything," Buffy replied, completely undisturbed by her crappy lying skills.

"I’m going to see how Duncan and Dawn are doing, perhaps I can be of some assistance," Legolas excused himself from the conversation.

"Think we scared him off?" Buffy asked Joe, as soon as the basement door closed behind the elf.

"If anything scared him off it was that bit about a vow of celibacy," Joe returned.

"It was just a suggestion," Buffy said with a shrug. Then glancing at the timer on the oven, she said, "I better get started on the icing."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Nah, I got it covered," Buffy said getting out a mixing bowl.

"So, about that secret military operation, what happened after Spike got all of you fighting with each other?" Joe asked, finally getting to his original reason for coming over.

"Oh, right, I forgot I was telling you about that," said Buffy. "Let me see where was I, Spike had dropped a bunch of nasty insinuations, Adam was about to start a human/demon war, and none of the Scoobies were talking to each other, then..."

* * * * * *

In the basement, Duncan was teaching Dawn some very basic quarterstaff exercises. When he’d spotted the quarterstaves in the corner of the room, he figured them to be an excellent compromise between the hand to hand techniques she’d need now to fight vampires and the fencing skills she’d need later for Immortal battles, quarterstaff skills being transferable to both areas.

Duncan watched her closely as she went through the routine alternately praising and criticizing. "Good follow through. Watch your stance."

Dawn finished the basic routine he’d outlined for her and asked, "How’d I do, teach?"

"You did good. Are you sure you haven’t had any martial arts classes before?" he asked, slightly puzzled.

"Uhmm... no. No classes, but I’ve been watching Buffy for years. And, when Giles was training Buffy, I was around a lot of the time," Dawn suggested with a shrug.

"Actually, I was wondering about your unusually good sense of balance, for a beginner. I’ve never seen a good way to learn that other than practice."

"Oh, that. That’s probably from six years of ballet and two years of tap," Dawn explained.

"And, you didn’t think to mention this?" Duncan said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You didn’t ask," Dawn pointed out. "Besides, that was like three years ago. It’s almost as if it never happened." Then under her breath she added, "More like, exactly as if."

"Are there any more classes you’ve neglected to mention which might have contributed to what you already know," Duncan said, pinching the bridge of his nose and realizing why he normally waited till pre-Immortals were adults to start this training business.

"Six months of gymnastics, but I quit after the teacher yelled at me for not being able to do a simple cartwheel," Dawn added.

The basement door opened and Legolas stepped inside. "I’m not interrupting, am I?" Legolas asked, closing the door behind him.

"We were just finishing up here," Duncan said, "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing wrong. Buffy was just suggesting that I tell Anya I’m gay or have taken a vow of celibacy. I’m not sure what either of those things are, but I somehow got the feeling that I didn’t want to know," Legolas answered as he descended the staircase.

"Gay means you only like to have sex with men and a vow of celibacy is where you swear not to have sex, ever," Dawn explained brightly. "Since we’re done, I’m going to go take a shower." Then Dawn stepped around Legolas and bounded up the stairs.

Legolas and Duncan watched Dawn exit the basement, slamming the door behind herself. Then turning toward Duncan, Legolas said, "I was right, I didn’t want to know. Is there nothing that is not permitted in conversation?"

"Nothing I can think of off hand," Duncan said with shrug.

Looking around the room at the exercise equipment and the weapons on the wall--which Legolas hadn’t yet seen, Buffy running down to get the target on her own--Legolas observed, "Buffy appears to take training very seriously."

"Yeah, it’s a lot better than I expected for a home gym," Duncan agreed. "Care to give it a try?"

"Considering the coming battle, we really should keep in practice," Legolas pointed out, grinning.

"My thoughts exactly," Duncan replied with a matching grin. Then he tossed the elf a quarterstaff.

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, at the Magic Box, Methos was avidly reading an account of his own life from the point of view of a 12th century magician who claimed to be a reincarnation of Death. When he reached a section about how Death shared a psychic connection with his horse, Methos couldn’t suppress a snicker.

"Something funny about this thing we need to kill?" Anya asked. "I would like to hear something funny, creatures that inspire humor are less fear inducing, or so I’ve been told."

"Actually, it doesn’t have anything to do with the Order of Thalos," Methos said apologetically. "Some jackass named Theobold thought he was me in a past life, I couldn’t resist reading his version of ‘our’ life."

"Theobold the Delusional, he really was a jackass. He was this scrawny little bald guy with warts. Would go on for hours about how scary and he was and called himself the Destroyer while everyone laughed at him behind his back. But, he did do absolutely the best lust charms ever, could get any two or more creatures to mate. If you wanted the best, you kind of had to put up with him," Anya reminisced.

"You knew this guy?" Methos asked, intrigued.

"Well, not very well. He was irritating and creepy, so I didn’t socialize with him or anything. But, I did buy the odd lust charm from him. You know vengeance against a mama’s boy, making him literally fall in love--or, well, lust--with his mother. I could have done it myself with the power of the wish, but I really didn’t want to get too personal with cases like that. It was just too Oedipal and icky. You want some distance sometimes, you know?" Anya explained.

Methos flipped to the back of the book, where the spells were written, and said, "You’re saying these really work?"

Anya glanced over Methos’s shoulder to see specifically what he was looking at and answered, "Yeah, but I wouldn’t try it if I were you. Lust is advanced magic, and even when you know what you’re doing lust spells have a tendency to go wrong. There’ve been more deaths from love and lust spells gone wrong than all the intentional deaths by magic put together."

"Thanks for the warning," Methos said gingerly closing the book and placing it back on the shelf, not wanting to accidentally cast a spell. He had read in another book that many spells only require reading aloud and he could easily picture himself reading a passage aloud without thinking. "I think it’s about time for lunch. Care to join me?"

"Let me go fetch my coat and we’ll go," Anya agreed.

"Over lunch, perhaps you’ll be willing to tell me some more about your life as a demon," Methos suggested as he helped Anya put on her white, 50s style, coat.

"You actually want to hear about that?" Anya said in disbelief.

"Of course I do, I find your stories fascinating."

"Really? I mean, sure, if you want me to. Everyone around here gets this blank, ‘smile while Anya tells another one of her boring stories we don’t care about,’ look whenever I say something. But, if you’re really interested..."

"I am," Methos confirmed.

"Well, in that case, I’ll tell you about how I became a vengeance demon in the first place. I had this big dumb boyfriend and he..."

Methos offered Anya his arm and the two of them strolled out of the Magic Box as Methos avidly listened to a life story even more peculiar than his own.

* * * * * *

Later that evening, Methos and Anya were having dinner together. Methos was finally persuaded to share some of his past exploits with the vengeance demon, having come to the conclusion that a woman who freely admits to burning people alive and starting major wars didn’t have much room to judge.

Joe and Dawn were watching Christmas movies with Legolas and trying to explain to the elf just what was so wonderful about It’s a Wonderful Life and why Christmas just isn’t Christmas without watching A Christmas Carol at least once. Dawn and Legolas had decided to skip patrol since vampires probably weren’t going to be running rampant. Joe wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to get to know a pre-Immortal. He had the sake of Watcher posterity to consider.

Buffy and Duncan, both being ultra conscientious in what they perceived as their duties, decided to do a quick patrol of Sunnydale. "You know, you really don’t need to come along," Buffy told Duncan as they passed through the gates of the first cemetery on their route. "The few vamps left are probably going to be laying low for awhile. I doubt there’s going to be much action at all, and nothing I can’t handle."

"Like you could have handled last night alone?" Duncan asked pointedly.

"Hey, totally unfair. Last night was...unusual," Buffy objected.

"I know, you’re right. If that was every vampire in Sunnydale last night, there’s probably not much to do tonight. But, I can’t just go back to the hotel and take a nap if I know you’re out here," Duncan attempted to explain. Seeing the irritated look on Buffy’s face, he hastily added, "It’s not that I don’t think you can handle whatever’s out here. I’m sure you can, better than I could--you are the expert. But, if there’s anything I can do, I can’t not do it."

"It’s not me, it’s you. I get it," Buffy said with a nod. "That’s the reason why I’m wasting a perfectly nice Christmas Eve strolling through cemeteries. On the off chance there are some vamps roaming around biting people, I can’t not be here. What I don’t get is why? Why are you here? I’ve got a sacred duty. What’s your excuse?"

Duncan and Buffy walked along in silence. When Buffy was just about to give up on getting an answer to her question, Duncan said quietly, in almost a whisper, "I killed a friend--someone who counted on me--not too long ago."

"Oh... that sucks," Buffy replied. Then a beat later, she added, "So, what was the deal?"

"The deal?" Duncan asked surprised by Buffy’s ready acceptance of his past misdeed and confused by the question.

"You know, what happened? He was evil? You were evil? Accident? Why’d you do it? There must have been a reason. You don’t strike me as the, ‘I get my jollies by killing my friends,’ type and if you were you probably wouldn’t have this whole guilt thing over it," Buffy explained, all quite calmly.

"Ahriman, before I killed him, he got inside my head. He made me think Richie was someone else, think he was an enemy. I was weak and stupid, I let Ahriman trick me. I killed Richie, even though he trusted me, looked up to me, and was only trying to help," Duncan explained not looking at Buffy, self condemnation apparent in his voice.

"You know, I really hate that, when the bad guys start with the mind games. Why can’t they just try to kill you and leave the head trips out of it?" Buffy complained.

Duncan’s head jerked up and he gave Buffy a questioning look, "You’re not shocked at what I did?"

"Not particularly, I mean who hasn’t tried to kill all their friends at least once?" Buffy asked with a perfectly straight face.

"You tried to kill your friends?" Duncan asked, thinking Buffy was just trying some new clever plan to cheer him up and she couldn’t possibly have done such a thing.

"Well, yeah. Just a few months ago. I got stabbed by a demon with crazy venom. Then I tied up all of my friends and locked them in the basement with a demon. If I’d taken a minute longer to snap out of it, they’d all be dead," she explained matter of factly. Then, in her own favor, she added, "Since I was under the influence at the time, mine was one of the less dramatic kill all your friends occasions. Some of the others were way worse, even if I do say so myself."

"Worse, worse how?" Duncan said, morbidly fascinated.

"Well, there’s Willow’s breakdown just recently. After Tara died she OD’d on dark magic and nearly destroyed the entire world, friends included. She would have too, if Xander hadn’t talked her down. But, that wasn’t really her. Her lover was shot right in front of her, she was kind of out of her mind.

"And, Spike, my kind of ex. He tried to kill us all on multiple occasions. Come to think of it, he said he was going to kill me the first time we ever met. A couple years later, he chained me to a wall and was going to kill me to impress his ex, changed his mind, and offered to kill her to impress me. Then, believe it or not, I started dating him--if you can call it dating--after all this happened. He doesn’t really have any excuses, except the part about being evil undead and it’s about what you can expect from him. But, on the bright side, he did help save the world a few times.

"And, Angel, can’t forget Angel. Lost his soul and turned evil for awhile, back when we were still together. He killed Ms. Calendar, one of my teachers and Giles’ girlfriend. Then Angelus left her body in Giles’ bed for him to find, just to turn the knife that extra little bit. Then he got his soul back and was good again. And, several centuries in hell have to count for something too.

"And then there was..." Finally noticing Duncan’s horrified expression, Buffy broke off her narrative. "I guess the details don’t really matter. The point is, most of my friends have nearly killed us all at least once, and if you count the accidents we’re all guilty. But, there were circumstances... lots and lots of circumstances."

"And, these circumstances make it okay?" Duncan protested.

"Not okay. I don’t think anything can make it okay. People have died and others very nearly did," Buffy admitted. "But, they do make it... understandable. You make a mistake and you try not to do it again. Feeling the feelings of guilt doesn’t fix anything. It just makes people want to avoid you because you’re all depressing and not big with the fun."

"Now you sound like Methos, except I don’t think he’d ever use the phrases ‘not big with the fun’ or ‘feeling the feelings of guilt,’" said Duncan.

"There’s no need to be insulting. I, in no way, sound like his annoyingness," Buffy objected.

"Methos can be irritating, but he’s not that bad," Duncan insisted.

"If you don’t mind being treated like a two year old who has to be watched carefully so you don’t start eating glue," Buffy said, rolling her eyes.

Buffy and Duncan walked along in silence for awhile longer, then Duncan asked, "Your friends, when they tried to kill you, how could you forgive them?"

"That’s easy. They’re my friends, so of course I forgave them. Once the attempts on my life were over and everything was back to normal, I couldn’t do anything else," Buffy said, giving Duncan an encouraging smile.

"And forgiving yourself?" Duncan asked.

"You got me there," Buffy admitted. "I mean, I don’t worry too much about the near misses. Accidents happen, but when people actually die... I didn’t forgive myself for sending Angel to hell until after he came back. If he didn’t return, I probably be carrying around the guilt for that one around to this day."

"You sent Angel to hell?" Duncan asked.

"It was the only way to keep the Hellmouth from opening," Buffy replied.

Duncan lapsed into silence, brooding about his former student’s death. And, the two completed yet another uneventful cemetery sweep.

Chapter 12

Late Christmas morning, at the hotel...

Duncan left his room and fumbled to shut the door behind him without dropping any brightly wrapped packages. Managing to close the door without incident, he started toward the stairs, but then he spotted Joe over by the elevators.

"Give me one of those, before you drop something," Joe said watching Duncan juggle two long narrow boxes and a bag with a few more gifts in it. Taking one of the long boxes, Joe asked, "What did you get them anyway? The stores must have been pretty picked over yesterday afternoon."

"Buffy and Dawn were easy. Did you know there are, not one, but three stores that sell weapons in Sunnydale? Not hunting rifles and reproductions but actual swords, axes, spears, and one place even had a mace," Duncan replied, amazed the weirdness of Sunnydale could escape the notice of the rest of the world.

"If I lived here, I think I’d want to keep a few weapons around the house. Just in case," Joe agreed. "I wondered why Legolas needed to come along on your shopping expedition. You found a bow up to his standards?"

"Not exactly. He insists there’s something immoral about fiberglass bows, but Buffy doesn’t have one and fiberglass is better than nothing. He did find one acceptable, but just barely," Duncan explained as they stepped onto the elevator and rode down to the lobby. "Speaking of Legolas, where is he? He wasn’t in his room when I went by."

"Off doing whatever it is he does at the crack of dawn," Joe shrugged. "Last night he mentioned exploring the nearby woods, see if anything’s hiding out there. He’ll meet us at the girl’s house at noon." After a brief pause Joe continued, "What I want to know is where the old man got off to. He’s normally still asleep this time of day, but he’s not here."

Duncan grinned and said, "Whether or not he’s still asleep probably depends on how early a riser Anya is."

"Him and Anya? You think?" Joe prompted, wanting to get the whole scoop.

"He wasn’t here when we came in, and he didn’t come in during the night. His room’s close enough to mine, I would have noticed. And, those two have been spending a lot of time together lately..." Duncan trailed off, leaving Joe to draw the obvious conclusion.

They went out to the parking lot, got in the car, and Duncan started driving to the Summers’ house. After giving Methos and Anya’s possible relationship some thought, Joe said, "Considering the circumstances, I wouldn’t have thought he’d do it."

"Do what? Date Anya?" Duncan asked glancing over at Joe for confirmation. "Why not? Alexa’s been gone for awhile now. It’s time to move on."

"I wasn’t thinking of Alexa. I was thinking of Anya and her status as a vengeance demon. He doesn’t have the best track record with women scorned. Starting something with a woman who’s been punishing men professionally for a millennia seems kind of risky and living on the edge isn’t exactly his style," Joe explained.

"That ban on magical interference with Immortals probably helps. Even if she is a demon, she can’t do anything to him," Duncan pointed out. "Nothing magical anyway," he qualified his previous statement.

"But, our even being here is an exception to the rule. How do we know your interfering with the supernatural doesn’t let the supernatural interfere with you?" Joe argued.

"I hadn’t thought of that," Duncan said, brow wrinkled in thought. Then with a wide grin spreading across his face, he asked, "Do you think that’s occurred to Methos?"

"I don’t know," Joe said with an answering grin. "One of us really should mention it to him, just in case."

* * * * * *

Methos was having a happy dream of eating mutton, which was odd because he had never liked mutton. But, in this dream, he was eating it and for some reason enjoying it immensely. Then he felt an unpleasant jab in his side and heard an insistent voice telling him to wake up.

Methos rolled over onto his back, ran a hand through his sleep tangled hair, and looked blearily at the vengeance demon before him. Anya was pulling on a scarlet dress with a high neck, long sleeves, and a full skirt. Turning her back to Methos she said, "Zip me up. Dinner’s in an hour and I have to stop by the Magic Box; I left the presents in my office."

"I would have never guessed you were the type to get into the holiday spirit," Methos said, sitting up and zipping Anya’s dress.

Anya grabbed her purse off the bedside table. Then turning back to Methos, as she checked to make sure she had everything, she said, "That whole son of God, virgin birth business is absurd. Who believes in virgins anymore? But, an orgy of retail shopping, that I can really get behind. Besides, I look good in red."

"That you do," Methos said, eyeing the formfitting dress appreciatively.

Anya preened a little, then said, "I’m going to get those presents. See you at Buffy’s house in an hour. Buffy can get a little crazy about holidays. You do not want to be late." Anya gave Methos a quick kiss goodbye and left her apartment.

Methos lay back on the bed, stretched, and reflected on the night before. Smiling to himself he wondered if the stamina and insatiability came from being a demon, or if that was just Anya. In a lazy and contented mood Methos slowly got out of bed and meandered toward the shower. Halfway there, a thought suddenly occurred to the ancient Immortal. His relaxed posture turned rigid as his good mood fled and was replaced by a vague sense of unease. "She does know that... doesn’t think we... I mean she is over a thousand... crap... I’m screwed," Methos muttered to himself after suddenly realizing that Anya might not believe their relationship was as casual as he intended it to be. Normally, Immortals of her age would notice the signs, but Anya was far from normal.

Shrugging aside his concerns for the moment, Methos took a quick shower, got dressed in the wrinkled clothes from the night before, had a glass of orange juice, brushed his hair, reminding himself once again to get that haircut he’d been meaning to get around to for the past couple weeks, and then went to the hotel for a change of clothes before dinner.

* * * * * *

At the Summers residence Dawn was introducing Legolas to eggnog. "What’s in it?" Legolas asked eyeing the thick white liquid suspiciously.

"Eggs and, uhmmm... nog?" Dawn replied hesitantly. "Just try it," she ordered.

"You don’t know what’s in it," Legolas accused.

"Taste it," Dawn insisted. Legolas sniffed the thick liquid in the glass Dawn handed him. Not finding the scent unpleasant, he cautiously took a sip. "Well?" Dawn demanded impatiently.

"It’s not bad," Legolas conceded. Taking another sip, he added, "Once you get past the texture, it’s... good."

"See, I told you so," Dawn said triumphantly. "Would I lead you astray?"

"Yes," Legolas answered, without hesitation. "What was that you made yesterday? A peanut butter and pickle sandwich?"

"I can’t help it if there’s something wrong with your taste buds and you don’t know good food when you eat it," Dawn replied with a perfectly straight face.

Whatever Legolas was about to say to that was cut off by the ringing of the doorbell followed by a present laden Anya letting herself in. "Oooh, presents," Dawn said relieving Anya of her burden, "I’ll put them under the tree."

"I thought I heard the bell," Buffy said entering the living room and taking off her apron. "You’re right on time, the ham’s perfect, my casseroles are done, and I just put the rolls in the oven." Then looking at the huge stack of gifts Anya brought, Buffy added, "You shouldn’t have bought so much stuff. It’s way too much."

"Tis the season to go shopping," Anya said with a shrug as she took off her coat.

"Wow, I love the dress," Buffy said. "You look great... happy," she added noticing Anya’s expression.

"It’s the sex. Orgasms make me happy, as long as there aren’t any guilt feelings involved. And, look at me, I all happy and guilt free. Which is good, because I really don’t like guilt. I mean, what’s the point?" Anya babbled.

"Uh huh," Buffy replied momentarily nonplused by the guilt tangent. Then getting back to the important thing she asked, "Sex? What? With who?"

"Methos spent the night at my place last night. Five thousand years of experience counts for a lot... tons. And, he’s very flexible and in excellent shape. You can’t tell with all those baggy sweaters of his, but he’s actually very muscular. I think it has something to do with the swords and the fighting. Running around with heavy, sharp, metal things can do wonders," Anya gushed.

"I could see that," Buffy agreed, "the sword part. It’s good to know you’re happy."

"Looks like you’re off the hook," Dawn observed in an aside to Legolas.

"A fact for which I am very grateful," Legolas replied too quietly for Anya to overhear. Seeing that Anya was about to continue discussing the subject at hand, he suggested that Dawn and him retreat to the kitchen.

"You can leave if you want. I’m finding this fascinating," Dawn answered, avidly taking in the conversation.

"You could be happy too," Anya said to Buffy. "I mean Duncan’s not nearly as experienced and he doesn’t have that vampire/formally evil bad boy thing going for him, but he’s single, handsome, and he’s probably given hundreds of women orgasms."

"Yes, you have a point there," Buffy said uncomfortably. Then hitting upon just the thing to distract Anya from her matchmaking plans, Buffy asked, "Flexible you say? I need details." As little as Buffy wanted to hear the details of Anya and Methos’s sex-capades, she wanted to hear speculations on Duncan and her even less.

"Well, he did this thing, where--" Anya began.

Before Anya could finish her sentence, Legolas grabbed Dawn’s arm and dragged the teenager from the room. "Hey, that was just getting good!" Dawn protested as the kitchen door swung shut behind her.

"Don’t you feel even slightly ill at ease when friends share intimate details of things which should be kept...intimate?" Legolas asked.

"Uh... no," Dawn answered.

* * * * * *

Just as Anya finished relating the details of the night previous--including the details of several things which Buffy made a mental note to try, before remembering that there was no one to try them with--the door bell rang. Buffy let Joe and Duncan in. Anya took their coats and Buffy put their packages under the tree. Dawn and Legolas returned from the kitchen, having heard the doorbell and thinking Anya’d had enough time to finish her explanation. As everyone was exchanging greetings and ‘Merry Christmas’s, the doorbell rang again. Methos had arrived.

Anya let Methos in. Buffy told Dawn to start setting the table, then went to get the rolls out of the oven. Duncan gave Methos and Anya a speculative look, then went to help Dawn set the table.

Methos took a deep breath, weighed the pros and cons of talking to Anya before dinner versus waiting till later, and decided the sooner the better. "Anya, can I speak to you privately for a minute?" he asked softly.

"Sure," Anya agreed, grabbing her coat from the rack by the door. "We can talk out on the porch swing."

Joe, discerning that the elf knew something he didn’t about what was going on, started grilling Legolas on the events of the morning as soon as the door shut behind the couple.

* * * * * *

Sitting together on the swing, Methos didn’t know quite where to begin. He hadn’t managed to get himself into this kind of situation in recent times. Usually, he was a lot clearer about what he was getting into before he got into it.

"You wanted to talk about something?" Anya prompted.

"Yes...last night..." Methos trailed off.

"What about last night?" Anya asked, starting to dread what he might say.

Grinding his teeth and nervously examining his predicament, Methos decided to just get on with it. "Last night, did it mean anything to you?" he asked evenly.

"Mean anything? Like what?" Anya asked, confused.

"I mean, do you think we’re in love or have some sort of committed relationship because of last night?" Methos explained gently, in his best letting her down easy voice.

"Oh," Anya said, the light suddenly dawning. "Why didn’t you just say that in the first place? You had me worried there for a minute. I thought you were going to tell me I have some repulsive drooling habit or was bad in bed or something."

"So, you don’t think we’re in love," Methos stated, relieved, but slightly peeved. He’d worked himself up to reluctantly break her heart and she was fine, which lead him to wonder why she wasn’t in love with him, at least a little bit.

"No offense, but I’d have to be insane to love you. I’m a vengeance demon. Love almost always leads to pain, I see it day in day out. And, if there are actually a handful of men who won’t cheat on you, break your heart, or abandon you at the altar--something I very much doubt--considering the fact that there’s a woman who has wanted you for crows bait for thousands of years, you’re probably not one of them. Don’t get me wrong, the sex was great, fantastic... really fabulous sex--," Anya enthused.

"Ah, thank you," Methos cut her off, highly flattered by her remarks on his sexual prowess, but not entirely sure what to make of Anya’s position on loving him--he was offended she had such a low opinion of him on one hand but relieved she wasn’t developing any romantic notions on the other. He paused for a beat then tacked on, "For me too."

"You’re not just saying that to be polite, are you?" Anya asked suspiciously.

"No, I wouldn’t do that," Methos protested.

"So...want to do it again?" Anya said brightly.

"How’s tonight for you?" he asked.

"I’m free tonight," she answered.

* * * * * *

A few minutes later Buffy called them all to the table. The ham and potatoes were perfect, the veggies a little too salty, and the rolls slightly burnt, but they had a fantastic Christmas dinner anyway.

Anya, once again, stated the truth about Santa Claus, after Dawn made the mistake of asking her not to and Methos expressed curiosity. In an attempt to change the subject from creepy Christmas facts, Joe wondered aloud what Amanda was up to this year. And, that led to Methos relating a comical tale of a scheme Amanda had managed to get Duncan involved in, most of the laughs being at Duncan’s expense. Since that incident involved several costumes, it reminded Buffy of the Halloween they all turned into their costumes. And, the conversation proceeded through the meal, everyone happy they didn’t have to edit their stories for content, or be careful to avoid all mention of the strangeness in their lives.

After everyone finished their carrot cake, which was a little gooey but still good, and the dessert plates were cleared away, they moved to the living room to exchange gifts. Buffy and Dawn sorted through the surprisingly large pile of gifts under the tree and started giving them out.

Buffy, Dawn, and Anya, jointly, got each of the guys a silver cross on a simple chain because as Anya said, "They’re useful things to have around, even if you don’t believe in all that God stuff." They were good size crosses of a very plain design, so as not to offend their manly sensibilities.

"No one should be in Sunnydale without one," Dawn agreed with Anya.

The girls all got each other clothes and Buffy got Dawn her very own copy of that Shakira CD Dawn’d borrowed from Janice a few weeks ago.

Duncan, having volunteered to get presents on behalf of the Seacouver contingent for Dawn, Anya, and Buffy, got Buffy a longbow and a quiver full of arrows, Anya a nicely carved open/closed sign for her shop, and Dawn a light weight sword. All three of them were very pleased. For Joe, he picked up a rare recording of one of Joe’s favorite guitarists. He gave Legolas a French wine which was similar to how Legolas described his favorite Middle-earth vintage. And, Methos received a sweater identical to several of the threadbare ones he was too lazy to replace.

Methos handed Joe and Duncan each a card with numbers on it. "Mac, yours is your chart number at Seacouver Memorial. Everyone should have a medical history, so I made one up for you. I covers up to your twenty-third year when you became a Christian Scientist and started refusing medical treatment."

"Thank you," Duncan said, finding the Christian Scientist bit amusing. "This’ll let me rest a little easier when reporters and detectives start poking around in my background."

"Joe, yours is the call number of the place where I misshelved one of my chronicles. It’s old enough to not have any clues that’d lead the Watchers to me. I intentionally lost it so I’d have something in reserve for when my superiors demanded results. Since, I’m off the Methos project, I thought you might find my discovery waiting to happen useful, next time you’re in hot water with the council."

"If I can resist looking it up till I need it, I’m sure it’ll do me some good. Between you two," Joe glanced at Duncan and Methos, "and Amanda I’m always getting myself into trouble with the council."

Joe gave Methos a bundle of mimeographed sheets. Methos looked at the top page and snorted in amusement. They were the job performance reviews of Adam Pierson the Watcher and periodic evaluations of Adam Pierson the Immortal, ‘Adam’ not rating a full time Watcher. Flipping through the top few sheets, he said, "That jackass Albertson, I knew he had it in for me. This is going to make for some interesting reading." Glancing through his Watcher’s notes, Methos started laughing hysterically.

"What’s so funny?" Buffy asked curiously. Methos handed her the papers and Buffy skimmed through them, giggled, and started reading aloud, "Older Immortal Duncan MacLeod took subject as a student. Peculiar relationship between them. Pierson does not defer to MacLeod as is usual in student/teacher relationships. Possibly a sexual relationship. Recent falling out, which seems to be mended. Lover’s quarrel?"

"Give me that," Duncan said, grabbing the papers out of Buffy’s hands. "Joe, what are they teaching Watchers in that academy of yours?"

Joe shrugged and said, "Anything to make an otherwise boring assignment more interesting. Besides, you haven’t dated any women lately and she did only write possibly a sexual relationship. She didn’t put it down as a sure thing." He was clearly not taking the situation at all seriously.

"If it was a woman, she was probably hoping Duncan had a sexual relationship Methos," Anya put her two cents in, "I’d like to watch you two having sex." At this revelation Methos started laughing even harder, while Duncan blushed a bright red.

* * * * * *

After the gift giving part of the festivities was complete, Dawn put on a Christmas CD and they all lazed around the house, digesting.

Anya and Methos were bickering about the details of some incident that happened in Canada during the 1870s, finally Duncan was called over to settle the dispute. Duncan disavowed any knowledge on the grounds that he wasn’t in Canada during the 1870s. Anya took this as a sign that she was right and went off to get another glass of eggnog.

"Lover’s spat?" Duncan asked solicitously, fishing for info on the new development in Anya and Methos’s relationship and wondering if it was anything serious.

"Simple misunderstanding," Methos dismissed the matter. "She just doesn’t understand that I’m right and she’s wrong."

"You think that lovely lady is wrong about something, I’m shocked," Duncan said facetiously, coming to the conclusion that whatever it was between them, it wasn’t serious. If the old man and Anya were deeply involved, he wouldn’t be bickering with her over such inconsequential things. Despite his somewhat curmudgeonly demeanor, Methos was a romantic at heart and when truly in love he made an effort to be a bit more gallant.

"I rather enjoy Anya’s company, but she can be wrong about a lot of things," Methos said in an ‘I know something you don’t know,’ manner.

"Like what?" Duncan asked, intrigued.

"Well, she wants to set you up with Buffy for one thing," Methos said, carefully watching his friend’s reaction.

"So that’s what they’ve been up to," Duncan said, feeling a little thick for not realizing it before. "I’ve noticed the looks and whispers going back and forth between Dawn and Anya every time Buffy and I are in the same room. I was wondering what was going on."

"You don’t mind their matchmaking efforts?" Methos asked in amazement.

"I don’t plan to go along with it, if that’s what you mean. Buffy’s just a kid," Duncan insisted. Then he shrugged and said, "Buffy seems pretty level headed. As long as she doesn’t start throwing herself at me, what Anya and Dawn think should happen doesn’t make much difference."

"Are you sure Buffy’s as levelheaded as you think? And, she’s not just biding her time to lull you into a false sense of security?" Methos asked suspiciously.

Duncan gave Methos a speculative look as he tried to figure out what strange processes were going on in the old man’s mind to make him come up with that off the wall theory. Finally, Duncan said, "You really don’t like Buffy, do you? And, you were the one so anxious to meet the Slayer."

"It’s not that I don’t like her, exactly," Methos tried to explain.

"Well then, what is it?" Duncan demanded.

"It’s just that she’s the Slayer. She’s suppose to be some great hero. Instead she’s a flighty California girl who’s obsessed with boys and clothes," Methos complained.

Duncan blinked a couple times, the corners of his mouth uncontrollably twitched upwards, then he took a deep breath and said, "Let me get this straight. You, of all people, don’t like Buffy because she acts like a normal person instead of a great hero?"

"Well, yeah. But, it’s more than that," Methos protested. "You saw her. We get news of an impending apocalypse and she barely suppresses a yawn. She finds out her ex is in trouble and suddenly she’s concerned. Her vampire-ex might I add."

"Whatever you say, Methos," Duncan said facetiously, laughing a little bit at Methos’s shattered heroic illusions.

* * * * * *

Later that evening, after nightfall, Duncan found Buffy sitting alone on the porch swing wrapped in an afghan and sipping a cup of hot chocolate. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

"Suit yourself," Buffy said with a shrug. Then noticing he’d left his duster inside and was only wearing a sweater, she asked, "Aren’t you cold?"

"It’s a lot warmer here than in Washington State," Duncan replied, sitting down next to Buffy. "Not patrolling," he stated more than asked.

"I worked Christmas Eve, I think I’m entitled to a night off. Besides, it’s not like there’s a lot of vamp activity to worry about," Buffy explained.

Buffy and Duncan swung for a while in silence, looking at the stars. Then, positive there was something bothering the Slayer that drove her out onto the porch to be alone, Duncan asked, "Penny for your thoughts?"

Buffy shifted in her seat a little, pulled her knees closer to her chin and rewrapped the afghan around herself. Then she sighed and said, "It’s weird and I really can’t believe I was just thinking what I was thinking." Buffy, paused a second, a funny scrunched up expression passed over her face, then she reluctantly admitted, "I was just thinking... about how I miss Spike."

"Spike... he’s the vampire that tried to kill you and you sort of dated?" Duncan asked, trying to get a grasp on the situation.

"Yep, that’s the one. Evil undead and I wish he was here, for some strange, inexplicable reason," Buffy confirmed.

"If you had a relationship, it’s understandable, no matter how badly it ended. No one likes to be alone, especially this time of year," Duncan said sympathetically, grasping at straws.

"I don’t think relationship is quite the right word. Train wreck, might be closer," Buffy said. Taking a deep breath, Buffy decided to explain. Maybe talking about it with someone who had some distance from everything that happened might help. She couldn’t exactly share with her friends. They knew Spike. "You see, Spike was evil. Your typical master vampire, big with the torturing and killing. He actually managed to kill two Slayers and was proud of it. Hunting down Slayers was kind of a thing for him. He did help me save the world once, but that was because he’d miss all the ‘Happy Meals with legs’ as he put it and the vamp trying to end the world was sleeping with Spike’s girlfriend and Spike wanted her to himself again. But still, world savage aside, evil.

"Then this secret army project vampire-napped him and put a chip in his head that stopped him from harming humans. But, he could still fight demons. So he switched sides and started helping me fight the forces of darkness because violence for a good cause was better than no violence. Which was fine, for awhile..."

"Then what happened?" Duncan asked, intrigued and knowing there was something major coming up.

"Then he fell in love with me," Buffy stated baldly, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Can vampires love? I wouldn’t think they’d be able to. They are supposedly pure evil and without souls?"

"That’s what I thought too, that they’re incapable of love, at first, but there’s way too much evidence to the contrary. He let himself get beaten to a pulp to protect me on more than one occasion, among other things. He’d die for me without a second thought. Sure, it’s a creepy, stalky, obsessive kind of love, but he did care. And, from what he’s told me about before he was a vampire, I think that might just be Spike, not a vamp thing, the obsessive part. So no, a soul doesn’t seem to be a requirement to love somebody," Buffy explained.

"Okay, so he loved you. What did you do about it?"

"First off, I freaked. I avoided him like the plague. Then I needed his help with Glory and we came to kind of an understanding. Mostly, I wouldn’t avoid him, if he didn’t bring it up. It was after... my resurrection that things went completely crazy.

"I was confused, lost. Everything was all wrong, but I couldn’t talk to my friends about it. They just wanted me to be normal again, happy. But, Spike, he understood. He didn’t keep trying to cheer me up or act like nothing had happened. He was the only one I could stand to be around. But, he loved me and I didn’t love him. I couldn’t. He was still evil. He wasn’t killing people then, but as soon as the chip malfunctioned he’d go right back to being a murderer. Sure, he wouldn’t hurt me or my friends and he might even keep from killing anyone so I wouldn’t have to stake him, but that wouldn’t change what he is, a demon that gets its kicks by torturing and killing innocent people.

"I should have just stayed away, kept my distance. But, instead, I was the uber-bitch. I treated him so badly. I was beyond horrible to him. I’d tell him how he was a monster and I could never love him, that he disgusted me. Then I’d ask him for help..." Buffy interrupted her narrative for a second, considering. Then deciding ‘what the heck, might as well tell the whole thing’ she quietly added, "or have sex with him, knowing he couldn’t say no to me. He loved me and I was just using him.

"Then, one day, he’d just had enough. He snapped and attacked me. After I kicked him away from me, and he realized what he’d done, he just bolted. I haven’t seen him since."

"Attacked you? I thought he couldn’t hurt humans?" Duncan asked as he thought over what Buffy’d told him.

"After I came back, the chip didn’t work on me. Not human enough, I guess. But, even if it did, I’m not sure if it would have worked. It seems to work on intent and he didn’t intend to hurt me," Buffy explained.

"You mean...oh, I see," Duncan said then he fell silent. Then a minute later he asked incredulously, "And you miss him, even after he tried to..."

"I said it was weird," Buffy reminded him.

Duncan was surprised Buffy could even think about taking back someone who’d treated her that way. She seemed so strong and together. "Buffy, you know it’s not okay for someone to hurt you, it’s never okay," he said, trying to impress the importance of that statement on Buffy.

"I know that," Buffy said rolling her eyes. "I’m not some poor, defenseless, battered housewife. If anyone was an abuser, it was me. I used Spike, knew I was hurting him, and kept doing it. What he tried to do, that was just a reminder, a reminder that I was right not to trust him. That he wasn’t just a cuddly puppy with fangs and was perfectly capable of turning on me. And, even so, I think he was more upset about it than I was. Spike likes to act like he’s human, eats solid food and everything. I don’t think he knew what he was doing when he did it--or tried to do it, anyway."

"So, these are more of those circumstances you were talking about and you forgive him?" Duncan said, incredulously. To him, some things were just unforgivable.

"Forgive might be going a little far. I’m still pretty pissed off at him. But, I’m more angry at myself. I was so stupid. Why did I expect anything different? I went through the he’s an evil demon I can’t trust speech often enough to know it by heart, but then he acts like what he is and I was in shock," Buffy berated herself.

"If he was acting as your ally and professed to love you, you couldn’t have known what would happen," Duncan cajoled. "You’re not perfect. Don’t put yourself down for being human. It’s only natural to want to believe the best of your friends, to think they wouldn’t hurt you. Sometimes you’re wrong, but that doesn’t mean you could have done anything differently. All you can do is learn your lesson, and not let them in again," he said, stressing the not again part because he was afraid Buffy was thinking of taking the evil rapist bastard back.

"I’ve learned my lesson," Buffy tried to reassure Duncan. "I’m not planning to dive back into the pit of Buffy/Spike badness ever again, even if he does come back," she said emphatically. "Still, he’s good in a fight. If we don’t stop this ceremony thingy coming up, he’d be good to have around."

"We’ll stop the ceremony," Duncan insisted. Seeing Buffy was about to make some protest he added, "Even if we don’t stop it in time we’ll handle it. You’ll have plenty of help without him. It’s better if he stays away."

Buffy didn’t say anything for awhile, hoping Duncan was right and they’d be able to handle what was coming. She knew her new friends were good in a fight, but they were new to the whole world savage gig. She’d feel a whole lot better with the normal Scooby Gang backing her up. Then, changing the subject, Buffy asked, "What you said about believing in friends and sometimes being wrong, it sounded like the voice of experience. That something that’s come up a lot?"

"More than I’d like to remember. The Game has gotten to more than one of my former friends over the centuries, turned them into enemies," said Duncan in a grim tone.

"The Game? What is that exactly? Methos and Anya both mentioned it, but they didn’t give me any details."

Duncan began his explanation, "You know Immortals can only die permanently if they lose their heads?" Buffy nodded. "When one Immortal beheads another, he gets all of the dead Immortal’s strength and knowledge, it’s called a Quickening. In the end there can be only one, and the last Immortal standing will receive the Prize. No one knows what the Prize is, but it’s said to be some great power, the sum of all our Quickenings, which’ll let the Immortal who wins rule the world. And, that’s the Game. There are a handful of rules Immortal battles have to follow, but that’s it in a nutshell."

"Okay, so you guys can live forever, but you spend your time trying to kill each other for some vague ultimate power? That sucks. And, I thought us Slayers got a raw deal. At least I’m not an Immortal," Buffy said, looking on the bright side, after a fashion.

"Is dying young so wonderful then?" Duncan demanded, wondering if Buffy had some sort of death wish. In Duncan’s book, a century or two of life, even as abnormal a one as immortality dictated, was preferable to dying before you hit thirty.

"Dying mostly just hurts. Being dead... not fantastic, but pleasant. Alive is actually much better--on occasion. The nice thing about being dead is that it’s easy. You’re happy all the time and you don’t even have to do anything," Buffy explained matter of factly. "But that wasn’t what I was thinking of.

"Even with everything that’s happened, the single hardest thing was when my mom died. There were other times that came close, usually when someone I cared about was killed, But there was a reason, something I could fight. With Mom, it just happened and there was nothing I could do," Buffy paused a minute, voice cracking a little.

"Tessa," Duncan said gravely, nodding in understanding. "I loved her. She was shot by some kid looking for money to buy drugs. It was completely senseless and there was nothing I could do."

"And if it wasn’t that, it would have been something else," Buffy said sympathetically. "I don’t know how you can stand it, knowing you’re going to out live all your friends, except the Immortal ones who might try to kill you one day. I just... I couldn’t," Buffy said half in pity, half in awe.

"You could if you had to. People can adapt to almost anything if they have no other choice," he stated.

"You get used to people dying?" Buffy asked skeptically.

"No, but you learn to make new friends, to start over. What you gain, living with people, more than makes up for the losses," Duncan said optimistically.

"Hmm..." Buffy paused for a moment then asked, "How come every time we have a conversation we have to get all touchy feely and talk about our emotions and issues and stuff? Because, it’s really, really depressing. And, it’s getting kind of wiggy because I’m not usually the type to over share."

That completely unexpected question surprised a laugh out of Duncan, "I don’t know. I’m not the ‘over sharing’ type either."

Chapter 13

Duncan, Joe, and Methos were trying out the local greasy spoon for breakfast. Legolas had originally intended to join them, but after catching a whiff of burned pork fat and greasy eggs he decided to buy some fruit at a nearby veggie stand before finding a convenient spot for arrow manufacture. He’d bought a supply of straight wooden shafts from a sporting goods store, but the fletching and arrow heads weren’t up to his standards.

Legolas had more than enough spending money to last till the end of his trip. The sale of a silver hair clip had brought in more than sufficient funds. He wouldn’t be needing the clip in any case. Trying to blend, he was using your typical elastic band to pull his hair back in a loose ponytail, to better conceal his ears.

Duncan and Methos had both offered to provide adequate funds for the elf, but Legolas insisted on paying his own way. After learning approximately what a dollar was worth, he wouldn’t even take the entire value of the clip from Duncan. Elven crafted items were beyond anything available in this world, but since the clip was nothing special to Legolas, he didn’t feel he should take an extraordinary amount of money for it.

In the diner, Methos, Joe, and Duncan didn’t hesitate to order up a wide variety of fried foods and lots of coffee to wash them down with. Sausage, bacon, eggs, hash-browns, and French toast sounded and smelled like good breakfast choices to them. After the waitress delivered their order and the ‘pass the syrup, where’s the salt, pass the ketchup’ stage of the proceedings was complete, Joe began to inform his friends of a rather interesting fax he’d received that morning.

"My sources got back to me on Dawn this morning," Joe said.

"Anything interesting?" Methos asked absently, more concerned with buttering his toast than the details of Dawn’s adoption.

"Yes, actually. According to the records she wasn’t adopted," Joe stated pointedly, thinking that would get the old man’s attention.

"So, the Summers’ family did something a little shady," Methos said with a shrug. "They wouldn’t be the first couple desperate for a child to go outside the normal routes."

"That’s what I thought at first too, but..." Joe trailed off as the waitress came by with the coffee pot.

As soon as she left, Duncan prompted, "But?"

"But, the records aren’t your usual fakes. They’re too detailed. Not only is there a birth certificate, but there are also records of Joyce Summers’ prenatal care, comments by the attending physician on her delivery, immunization records, medical records from birth till their move to Sunnydale without any sudden changes in primary physician, it’s all there, and everyone involved who Watchers could question agrees that there is nothing unusual or contradictory in Dawn Summers’ personal history. If this was a normal pre-Immortal investigation, without a couple Immortals to confirm it for me, I wouldn’t hesitate to put her in the mortal pile based on these records." Joe explained.

"I thought you said you weren’t going to go digging in Dawn’s background? That you were only going to look at a few documents which were part of public record?" Duncan asked accusingly.

Joe shrugged. "Sorry, but the Watchers I asked to do the research were a little over zealous," he apologized, not sounding overly contrite. Then after a pause he added, "Aren’t you the least bit curious?"

Duncan looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, Methos chimed in, "I’m curious," the ancient Immortal said emphatically. "We know Dawn’s pre-Immortal. Mac and I both agree on that. So, those records have to have been faked, somehow. Now, the question is why go to so much trouble?"

"I’d also like to know who did it," Joe added. "The job done on this was better than anything I’ve seen Immortals pull off, and you guys have had enough practice to be the best."

"How can you be so sure the records were faked?" Duncan asked his friends. "Joe, you said yourself that you can’t detect a single flaw in the history and we all know fabricating a perfect backstory is practically impossible to do. And, Adam, weren’t you the one lecturing me on the existence of things outside of what we normally believe in a few days ago? Buffy’s the Slayer and she was brought back from the dead. The Summers’ family is already strange enough, adding an Immortal to it isn’t that far of a stretch."

Methos and Joe exchanged a look, then Methos began, "Duncan... I know how important family is to you, and I can see how you’d want that for Dawn, want her to actually know where she came from instead of having to wonder, like the rest of us. But, that doesn’t change the facts. All Immortals are foundlings, without exception. As much as we might wish it were different, none of us will ever know where we came from. There hasn’t been a single exception in 5,000 years and I seriously doubt there ever will be."

"I have to go with him on this one. Mysterious origins is an established fact of Immortal life, there isn’t a single Watcher chronicle contradicting that rule. Buffy may be special, but Dawn seems pretty normal. Just your average teenage kid," Joe seconded Methos’s opinion.

"You’re probably right," Duncan reluctantly admitted, "It’s probably just wishful thinking on my part. Finding out you’re Immortal is hard enough, finding out that your family isn’t actually related to you makes it that much harder. But, I can’t help thinking there’s something special about Dawn, something we’re missing. She is supposedly able to destroy the world, or able to be used to destroy the world... "

"I’d almost forgotten about that," Methos said, "with everything else going on. Do you think what Whistler told us about her is true?"

"Everything else was," Joe pointed out.

"I think this bears further investigation," Methos said, nodding to himself as he formulated his plan of attack. "Joe, why don’t you see what you can find out from Dawn. Mac, you and Buffy seem to be hitting it off, find out what you can from her. I’ll take Anya."

"I’m not going to go snooping," Duncan insisted. "If there’s something they want us to know they’ll tell us. This isn’t a good time to start stepping on toes."

"In that case, I’ll talk to Buffy," Joe volunteered. "She doesn’t seem to like you much," he added, looking at Methos.

"No, I think that might work in our favor," Methos said, mentally revising his plan to leave out Duncan. "I think the direct approach would be best. I’ll ask Buffy prying questions and she’ll blurt something out from sheer irritation. You just concentrate on Dawn."

"There’s nothing I can say to persuade you to leave well enough alone?" Duncan asked pessimistically.

"No," Methos answered simply, a big grin spreading across his face, nothing he liked better than a good mystery to sink his teeth into.

"Afraid not," Joe seconded.

"Then, will you at least be careful how you go about it? Remember, we have to be able to work together for the next few days. We don’t have time for misunderstandings and hurt feelings," Duncan warned.

"I have been asking questions and finding things out for a long time now," Methos reminded. "There’s nothing to worry about."

* * * * * *

Later that day everyone met back at the Magic Box to discuss the situation and to plan their next move. To start the meeting off, Methos outlined the results of his research.

"Destroying the Asarrion helped," Methos held up a book with an illustration of the symbol Buffy, Duncan, Legolas, and Dawn destroyed at the school to make sure everyone was on the same page, "but it didn’t stop the ceremony from going forward. The Asarrion is a powerful binding tool. It isn’t needed for the resurrection itself. The Order of Thalos probably intended to use it to make sure the Master does their bidding upon his return. Now that you’ve destroyed it, the Order is going to have to use some lesser binding magic, which means they’re going to have to resurrect the Master at less than full strength.

"The Asarrion would have bound him the moment he returned. Lesser binding spells take time to come into full effect. The Order will need to keep him weak until he is fully bound. Worst case scenario, and the Master is resurrected, we should have a few moments to kill him, if we can get through the cult."

"What about the prophecy thing?" Joe asked. "Isn’t he suppose to be unkillable?"

"That part’s completely bogus," Anya fielded the question. "All sorts of things happen that aren’t in prophesies and even stuff that is prophesied gets screwed up all the time. Accidents happen."

"So, what do we do now?" Legolas asked.

"Stick to the original plan," Methos said. "We try to find Buffy’s friend before the 29th. If they don’t have him, they can’t perform the ceremony. Failing that, we know when and where they’re doing it, we try to stop them on the night. And, if we’re too late. The Master comes back, we make a path through the Order and Buffy kills him while he’s still weak."

"I’ve dusted the Master before, I can do it again," Buffy said with determination, "But, I’m not up for losing Angel. We have to stop them before they kill him."

"We will," Duncan said confidently.

* * * * * *

Buffy had been around to all the usual demon haunts, but none of her snitches had any information. Still having several days to work on the problem and as small a town as Sunnydale was, they still had hopes of finding the Order’s base before the big day.

They decided to get organized in their search for the Order of Thalos’s hideout. Joe agreed to organize the search from the Magic Box, utilizing the city plans and maps which were on the laptop Willow left behind. Besides, someone had to be there to receive the packages Anya was expecting.

The rest split up into pairs. Methos, thinking this was a good time to start grilling Buffy, got himself teamed up with the Slayer. Legolas volunteered to keep an eye on Dawn, not fancying the idea of an entire afternoon with Anya. She’d stopped propositioning him when she formed her liaison with Methos, but she still had a tendency to ask extremely personal and embarrassing questions. That left Duncan with Anya.

Duncan tentatively volunteered to take the cave systems, having had some experience spelunking. Anya shrugged her agreement, saying, "As long as it isn’t sewers."

Methos started to call dibs on the warehouse district, but Buffy elbowed him in the side to shut him up and suggested that assignment for Legolas and her sister. Then she volunteered Methos and herself for sewer duty.

The three pairs set off for their respective search areas, cell phones on hand for reporting findings back to Joe.

* * * * * *

"What on earth possessed you to volunteer us for sewer patrol?" Methos asked as they climbed down into the sewer through the manhole behind the Magic Box.

"Someone has to do it," Buffy shrugged. "Why did you want to be paired off with me? And, don’t say my sparkling personality, because I know you think I’m sparkle-less."

"What makes you think this was my idea?" Methos asked innocently.

Buffy snorted in amusement, then said, "Maybe the fact that it was. You were only moderately obvious in arranging it."

"And, I thought I was being subtle," Methos said with chagrin.

"Too much time with Anya. The unsubtle has rubbed off on you. Next thing you know, you’ll be asking perfect strangers about the frequency of their orgasms and ordering them to buy stuff," Buffy said, as if making a sage observation.

"You know, you’re not half as flighty as you pretend to be," Methos observed.

"Excuse me, but I never pretend to be flighty," Buffy protested.

"Maybe I should rephrase. That is, you’re only half as flighty as you look," Methos rejoined unable to let Buffy’s misstatement go without comment.

"I’m not flighty," Buffy insisted, giving Methos an evil look which he just ignored, "Don’t assume I’m a bimbo because I’m blond and look cute in leather pants. Too many people make that mistake. Lots of them have horns or are all ridgy, so then the mistake’s in my favor, but with actual people--it get annoying."

"Mmmm hmm," Methos replied, purposely sounding skeptical.

"Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. You’re trying to distract me from asking about why you’re down here with me. You didn’t distract, so spill," Buffy ordered.

"Actually, I wanted to know about your sister," Methos said, thinking the direct approach was best.

"What about my sister?" Buffy asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing threateningly.

Not to be scared off by a threatening tone from a little blond girl, Methos pressed, "That Whistler chap had some rather interesting things to say about her. Ending the world if she fell into the wrong hands, that’s a pretty dire threat. I was wondering if you’d care to elaborate?"

"No, I wouldn’t care to elaborate," Buffy said with a brittle smile. "Why the sudden interest? That was days ago."

"I was plenty interested at the time, but there was too much else to look into. Now that the most pressing matters have been taken care of, I have time to get back to satisfying my curiosity," Methos explained.

"You’re just going to have to be unsatisfied," Buffy said with finality. Then thinking better of her statement, she added, "Your curiosity I mean. Unsatisfied curiosity. Other kinds of satisfaction or unsatisfaction are none of my business and I really don’t want to know."

"Come now, we’re all on the same side here," Methos wheedled. "Your friend Whistler obviously thought it was something we should know, or he wouldn’t have told us. Maybe we need to know what’s so special about Dawn. It could be significant."

"One, Whistler’s not my friend. He just shows up from time to time to deliver really bad news. Two, he told you Dawn needed protection from the bad guys. If you needed to know more, he would have told you. And three, the fewer people who know about Dawn the safer everyone is. I’m not telling near strangers anything, especially not to satisfy idle curiosity," Buffy replied, unmoved by Methos’s argument.

Methos undaunted, continued to argue, "It isn’t idle curiosity. Why would Whistler bring up such a potentially dangerous piece of information if it weren’t important? Remember, he didn’t tell the full story about anyone, just enough to get us working together and he left the rest of the explanations to us. How do you know this isn’t some key piece of information which will be vital to the plan?"

"Trust me, it isn’t," Buffy cut him off. "Dawn has absolutely nothing to do with bringing monsters back from the dead. Ask all you want, I’m not telling you anything."

"I wouldn’t be so sure of that," Methos quietly muttered to himself, as he let the Slayer step through a narrow hatchway ahead of him. "You already have."

Buffy looked back through the hatchway at Methos and said, "And I’m not flighty!"

* * * * * *

In a prison several hours away, Faith was lying on her bunk, staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes traced the crack running parallel to the wall for the millionth time as she tried to decide what to do with her afternoon. There was a gang fight that morning so the entire prison was on lock down, leaving her with two possible choices. Lie in her bunk, going slowly insane. Or get up and pace the narrow cell, going slowly insane.

The dark haired Slayer had learned a lot about patience and repressing her more violent urges in the years she’d been in prison. As long as she was working or working out in the gym, it was almost bearable. But, hours and hours of just lying there, with nothing to do, it was driving her up the wall. Even group therapy was better than this.

Faith heard the repetitive clicking of a retractable pen coming from the bunk beneath her. Her cell mate, Janey, had paused for a moment in her letter writing to formulate her thoughts. Faith momentarily considered striking up a conversation with Janey, to pass the time, but dismissed it as a bad idea. Janey killed her two kids because her boyfriend didn’t like them. Most of the time, Faith didn’t mind sharing a cell with the woman. She was quiet and left Faith alone. But, if the two of them struck up a conversation, Faith knew she’d be tempted to strangle the crazy bitch; then Faith’d be thrown into solitary which would push her over the edge for sure. Faith had done a lot of sick shit in her time and could forgive a lot of things, but turning on your own kids was just wrong.

Faith turned over on to her stomach and grabbed a nail file from a shelf bolted to the wall at the head of her bunk. It was the sandpaper-cardboard kind of nail file, not the sharp metal kind. No one in their right mind would let Faith have the dangerous variety. Sitting up on the bunk, her legs crossed Indian style and back against the wall, Faith inspected her already perfectly filed nails for any possible imperfection. Finding nothing to do, Faith started rhythmically tapping the nail file on one polyester clad thigh while the other knee bounced to the same too-much-frustrated-energy rhythm. Faith’s fidgeting had set the springs of her bunk to squeaking in a counterpoint to her nervous movements.

Janey, her letter writing disturbed by the irritating squeaks, leaned out from the bottom bunk and looked up at Faith as if about to make a complaint. Taking one look at the tense Slayer, Janey changed her mind about complaining and quietly went back to her letter writing.

Faith jumped off her bunk and wandered over to the tiny barred window on the other side of their tiny cell, telling herself a little sunlight might do some good. Looking out the window Faith thought to herself, ‘See it isn’t so bad. Sunlight, little patch of grass, pretty. It’s a lot better than fire and brimstone which is pretty much my only other option. Sure, this prison thing sucks, but it’s not like it’s supposed to be summer camp.

‘Hey, three square meals a’day. Can’t beat that. And, no one trying to kill me, most people’d call that a plus. In twenty, thirty years, I’ll get my parole and I can go back to fighting the forces of evil. Die first time out, being old and out of practice, but I’ll get in one good fight before the end. What more can a girl ask for? Lot more than I deserve,’ Faith tried to rationalize her situation.

‘Damn, who am I kidding? What the hell am I doing here? I should just off myself. If I had the guts for it, I would. I’m no good to anyone in this cage. Redemption? That’s a laugh. Me sufferin’ doesn’t make anything right. Doesn’t change anything,’ Faith once again thought bitterly, this being a conversation she’d had with herself many times before.

Feeling a dull pain in her hand, Faith glanced down to find that she’d crushed the nail file. Forcing her cramping hand open to drop the mangled nail file, Faith inspected the damage. "Shit!" she exclaimed, "I’m a fucking head case." The abrasive paper had left some nasty scrapes on her palm.

"You okay?" Janey asked looking up from her letter.

"Fine," Faith said wiping her damaged hand on her side and smearing blood on her prison uniform. Then Faith froze. "Do you hear something?"

Janey tentatively shook her head no, wondering what her scary cell mate was on about now.

"It sounds like--" Faith stepped closer to the cell door and cocked her head to one side, listening intently, "sounds like chanting." As the chanting got louder Faith said, "You have to be hearing that," turning back to Janey.

Janey was sitting on the edge of the bottom bunk, statue still. One hand was half raised, pushing a strand of mousy blond hair out of her face. Her eyes were fixed open, no blinking. "Janey!" Faith yelled trying to snap the woman out of it. "Janey, you in there?" Faith asked waving a hand in front of Janey’s face and shaking her. There was no response.

Dashing back to the door, from which the chanting was increasing in volume, Faith pressed her face against the bars and looked as far down the corridor as possible. There she saw a guard with the same frozen look as her cell mate, and at the absolute limit of her vision she saw a line of robed figures slowly moving forward.

"Guys in black robes, chanting, paralyzed people, let me guess--demons," Faith said to herself as she nervously ran her hands through her hair and looked around her cell for a possible weapon. "Come on Faith, think, think. Where’s a weapon. If I’m going to have that final fight earlier than I thought, I’m damn sure making it a good one."

Spotting a likely prospect, Faith tossed her thin mattress up against the wall. She grabbed the side of the bed frame, braced a foot against the vertical support, and pulled. Faith stumbled back against the wall as the piece of metal frame pulled free, but she had a grin on her face. Giving the metal bar a couple swings, Faith nodded to herself and said, "Yeah, this’ll do some damage. I don’t know what the guys coming to kill me are, but I’m sure as hell taking a few of them with me on my way out."

Faith grasped her make shift weapon in both hands and stationed herself to one side of the cell door, waiting for them to come. The dark Slayer didn’t have long to wait, a few seconds later the cell door along with a large chunk of the wall was ripped away.

There were several dozen demons in matching black cloaks lined up on the open side of the cell. The leader of the demons gave orders in an inhuman voice which somehow reminded Faith of the sound of crickets on a warm summer night. "You, keep chanting," he ordered the demons in the back, "You, take her, remember, we need her alive."

"You need me alive?" Faith asked, not really curious. "Good to know. That makes my job so much easier." Not wanting to wait another second for the attack to come, Faith lunged forward, swinging her metal pole at the leader’s head. The leader ducked the swing and stepped back, out of the fray. Without so much as blinking, Faith swiftly changed the direction of her swing giving another demon a solid blow to the side.

Then the fight was joined in earnest. Even with a piece of the wall gone, the robed demons could only come at Faith three or four at a time, keeping Faith from being immediately overwhelmed. Faith put her pole to good use at first. Powerful swings from side to side would knock down multiple demons at a time, unfortunately it was just a delaying tactic. Being smacked in the side of the head was not a killing blow, they kept getting up and trying again. Then one of the demons managed to grab Faith’s weapon and wrench it from her grasp.

The demon who disarmed her laughed evilly. Faith just shrugged and said, "I’m much more of an up close and personal kind of girl anyway." She ran out of her cell, right into the center of the demons and started kicking and punching like a wild thing. Realizing that she was in all probability going to die very soon, Faith still had to admit that this was the most fun she’d had in years.

The fight fell into something of a pattern. A group of demons would rush her, she’d beat them back with sheer ferocity, they’d fall back, circle around her, regroup, and attack again. With each attack she’d get a little weaker, a little more bruised, but she couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear. This was what she’d been waiting for. This was what she’d been created to do.

Then the tide started to turn. After a particularly nasty blow to the head, one of the demons decided he’d had enough. He was pissed and he was going to end this. He pulled a long knife, something between a dirk and a short sword, out of his robes and started stalking the Slayer.

"Hey, I thought you weren’t ‘spose to kill me," Faith protested.

"But, I can hurt you as much as I like," the demon explained in the same kind of voice as the leader. "You will be much easier to handle without hands."

"Bring it on, demon boy. Let’s see what you got," Faith said, undaunted by the threat.

The demon rushed Faith, knife thrust out ahead of himself. Faith grabbed his scaly grey knife hand, elbowed him in the head, and twisted his wrist at an awkward angle. The demon’s seven fingers lost purchase on the knife and Faith gladly took it from him. "Geez, you guys should really stick to the chanting, you can’t fight for shit," Faith said, now ready for some real violence.

Another group of demons rushed Faith and once again she beat them back, only this time, with the addition of a knife to her arsenal, quite a few weren’t getting back up again. Faith fought her way back and forth across the corridor, itching to simply run from the prison, the demons, and the entranced prison guards. She felt a physical need for long denied movement. She absolutely couldn’t force herself to stay in one spot, even if that spot did give her the advantage of not having to look out for demons behind her.

Facing back toward her cell, she spotted the lead demon standing near the ragged cell entrance. Faith rushed toward the leader, hoping that if she took him out the rest would just leave. At the rate she was going she knew she’d run out of energy before she ran out of demons.

The leader fled Faith’s approach by ducking into the cell. "There’s no escape in there you bastard," Faith muttered to herself, following him in. Faith swung at him several times. Each time, he’d duck or side step till eventually he was pressed against the remains of her bunk. "Looks like you’ve run out of places to go," Faith observed. Then she went in for the kill.

She could just see it playing out in her mind. She’d stab him through the heart. He’d collapse on to the floor. The other demons would flee in fear. And, she could sneak out in all the confusion and start actually helping people to try to make up for what she’d done.

But, that wasn’t what happened. Instead, just as Faith was going for his heart, the demon pulled--the still frozen on the side of her bunk--Janey in front of him. Faith, unable to check her swing in time, plunged her knife into her cell mate’s neck, severing Janey’s jugular. There was blood everywhere. The knife fell from Faith’s nerveless fingers. Wide-eyed and shaking she slowly backed away from the corpse. Pressing her hands to her mouth, Faith moaned a denial.

Taking advantage of the Slayer’s anguish, one of the remaining demons struck Faith in the back of the head. The Slayer fell to the floor in an unconscious heap, tears streaking her cheeks and blood on her hands.

Chapter 14

December 27th, three days before the next scheduled apocalypse...

Buffy strolled into the Magic Box after a morning of searching warehouses near the docks. The Slayer’d called in sick for work that week. That way shifts at the Doublemeat Palace wouldn’t take time away from trying to prevent evil before it happened.

"Hey, Anya," Buffy greeted the vengeance demon. "Ooh, nice hair, the style’s really cute," Buffy complimented Anya after taking note of the new hair do since yesterday.

"What about the color? The auburn’s not too much, is it? I said just a touch of red, you know, natural looking," Anya asked anxiously.

"No, it looks good. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were a natural red head," Buffy reassured. "Where is everybody?" Buffy asked, looking around at the empty store.

"Duncan’s giving Dawn another fencing lesson in the back room. Legolas and Methos are checking the last few places on Joe’s list. And, Joe said he had some kind of business to take care of," Anya explained.

"Oh... Wait a second, you turned the back room into your office. Aren’t the file cabinets and stuff kind of in the way?" Buffy asked, confused.

"Yeah, well, I really didn’t need that much space... and all the equipment was already there... and you could use a better place than your basement..." Anya explained.

"You put it back the way it was?" Buffy asked excitedly.

"Uh... yeah," Anya said, not seeing how a gym could be in anyway excitement inducing.

"Thank you," Buffy said giving Anya a big smile and a quick hug.

"You’re welcome. I mean, you’re the Slayer and you need room to practice killing stuff," she replied with a shrug, and a pleased smile. Anya was still adjusting to the idea of Buffy and Dawn being her friends, rather than friends of Xander who just tolerated her.

"I’m going to go see how Dawn’s doing. Be back in a sec," Buffy said happily as she headed toward the back room, a new spring in her step, amazed at how much a little thing like getting her danger room back mattered to her.

She’d been trying to think positive about the situation at hand, but it wasn’t really working. Going to face a major big bad without the rest of the Scooby Gang was really wearing on her nerves. And, Angel being the sacrifice was only making it worse. They’d been apart for a long time, but you never really stopped caring about your first love. At least, Buffy’d never stopped caring about hers.

Granted, the Powers sent along some extra help, and they seemed nice enough and fairly competent, but they were still near strangers. Buffy trusted Joe, Duncan, Methos, and Legolas to help out with the fighting, and she even liked them--most of them anyway--but they weren’t family. As the big day approached Buffy was finding herself more and more on edge at the thought of depending on the new guys. But, for some reason, the little detail of getting her work-out area back made Buffy feel better, like it was some sort of good omen.

Buffy slipped quietly into the back room, so as not to disrupt the lesson. Duncan, noticing Buffy’s entrance, acknowledged her with a nod but didn’t interrupt his correction of Dawn’s grip on her new sword. Duncan continued the lesson, running Dawn through the routine step by step, while Buffy stood just inside the door, watching in silence.

Buffy watched her sister and the tall, handsome, dark-haired Immortal for ten, fifteen minutes, her eyes slowly narrowing in suspicion. She crossed her arms in front of herself, and chewed on her lower lip, deep in thought. What Duncan was showing Dawn wasn’t what Buffy was expecting for lessons. Dawn was learning formal fencing, not the basics of self defense that would come in handier fending off demons. Starting on the formal route would make sense for anyone intending to become a true master of the art; there would be fewer bad habits to be unlearned later. But, for anyone just interested in fending off the bad guys till the calvalry arrived... there were a lot of shortcuts that would have been more useful much faster.

The Slayer had to wonder what the motivation was behind this lesson plan. Was Duncan just a purist, who couldn’t stand to teach anything sloppy, even if sloppy would get the job done? Was Dawn dedicated enough to the demon slaying gig that she wanted to master a weapon and the slow start would eventually pay off? And if that were the case, that opened up a whole other can of worms. Buffy’d given up on keeping Dawn completely away from fighting the good fight, but she still held out some hope of sending Dawn away to college or getting her little sister out of it some other way. If Dawn were that serious about learning to master a weapon, it didn’t bode well for Buffy’s hopes for the future. Or, then again, was there some other motivation all together? Buffy didn’t know what was behind the fencing lessons, but she sincerely hoped Duncan was just a martial arts purist.

For a moment, Buffy was about to say something, instead she simply shook her head slightly and left the room as quietly as she entered. Dawn, too absorbed in what she was learning, never even noticed her sister was there.

The Slayer strolled back to the front of the shop, where Anya was totaling up some figures behind the counter. Buffy pushed herself up on to the counter, to sit beside the pile of receipts Anya was working with. "Anya, how much do you know about Immortals?" she asked in a voice that was all business.

"Lots, but Immortals probably know more. Why don’t you ask one of them?" Anya asked.

"Because until I know what you know, I won’t know if they should know that I know whatever it is you know," Buffy explained not very clearly.

Anya tried decoding Buffy’s statement for a couple moments, then she gave up and asked, "What do you wanna know?"

"Two things: First, where do Immortals come from? Are they a separate species from humans where they’re born that way and their parents are Immortals too, like half breed demons? Is it some kind of mystical thing, like being a Slayer, where the family is normal but they get chosen? Or what?"

"I don’t know. No one knows where they come from, not even them. They’re all foundlings, as in literally found on someone’s doorstep as a baby," Anya answered the first question. After a pause for further ruminations on the matter she added, "I guess there could just be some mystical thing about doorsteps that makes Immortals just pop into existence, like there’s that mystical thing about dryers that makes socks just sorta pop out of existence--or maybe it’s pop in and out of another dimension..."

"Okay..." Buffy said, filing the answer away to be processed later on. "Question number two is, how do they recognize each other? They look like normal people to me, don’t set off my spidey sense or anything. How do they know who they should be trying to kill in that Game of theirs?"

"They just know," Anya said with a shrug. "They must have some kind of Immortal radar--like gay-dar, but less gay--‘cause I’ve never heard of an Immortal beheading a mortal by mistake. Which is good. You know, if they couldn’t tell themselves apart from normal people, that game of theirs could get really messy. There’d be decapitated corpses everywhere--the dry cleaning bills alone, and you just couldn’t wear silk at all, blood and other substances just don’t come out of your finer fabrics. That was the big problem with wars and massacres, always lots of fun to go to but you could never go home still looking cute. I ruined more outfits that way..."

"Hmmm..." Buffy murmured, considering the possibilities--not the fashion and dry cleaning ones, the ones applicable to Immortality. "One other thing," she said, another question just occurring to her, "how do demons know who’s an Immortal and who isn’t?"

"We don’t, not really. We usually just find out an Immortal is one when our powers don’t work on them. I’ve been summoned up to punish an Immortal, without knowing what he was. I tried to turn him into a rat then feed him to a snake, like his ex wanted, but nothing happened. He looked like he didn’t even feel a tickle. Which is really frustrating. You put in all that hard work coaxing out the wish, and get bupkiss for your efforts," Anya complained.

"And that’s the only way demons can tell?" Buffy asked, ignoring Anya’s tangent as always.

"Sometimes, someone stumbles on one of their fights. It’s a big light show, lots of explosions, energy all over the place, kind of pretty actually. Then we know they’re Immortals--or the winner is anyway, the other one’s just dead. The ones that fight a lot--look like they might win--some demons like to keep tabs on them, you know, planning ahead for the apocalypse--or sometimes just to gamble," Anya added.

"What about vampires and big snarly demons that are just violent?" Buffy asked. "They aren’t real big on following rules and they don’t use any special powers besides strength and speed. Mac wasn’t immune to the vampires that attacked us the other night."

"Mostly, Immortals and demons avoid each other, just as some sub-conscious thing both the Powers and the Lower Circle does. Immortals in Sunnydale is just unheard of. And, when they do cross each other’s paths, they’re kind of encouraged to leave each other alone--notice I’m using ‘encouraged’ as a figure of speech, there’s not actually anyone around telling demons to leave Immortals alone. A vampire once told me Immortals don’t smell like anything and their blood tastes bad," Anya explained, for once not finding a rabbit trail to wander down.

"Oh," Buffy said, "I guess that makes sense. Why bother an Immortal, when there’s so many tastier snack food options wandering around the place?" she asked rhetorically. "So does every monster know about these Immortal guys?"

"Not really. Most vampires have never even heard of Immortals. I guess if you’re around long enough, travel in certain circles, you’re bound to hear about them eventually. But, it’s not like they’re a big topic of conversation all the time. Speculating on who’s going to win the prize and whose side they’ll be on in the end is just something to chat about when evil’s having a slow decade--kind of like talking about the weather."

"Hmm..." Buffy mumbled, adding those tidbits of information to her mental word picture. "What do you know about elves?" she asked, figuring that since she was on the subject of finding out about her new allies anyway...

"Not a lot," Anya admitted. "They’re from a dimension that’s been sealed off for thousands of years by a powerful demon. They’re supposed to be incapable of being evil, no conscious evil anyway. Evil by mistake is still wide open. According to the legend, the big evil in their world was able to trick some of them into evil acts and that’s part of where his big evil powers came from. They’re all beautiful, immortal, and they make absolutely gorgeous jewelry," Anya explained ticking the few facts she knew off on her fingers.

"Gorgeous jewelry?" Buffy asked, girlie curiosity getting the best of her.

"Unbelievable jewelry," Anya enthused. "Caellef--her schtick was parents betrayed by their children, Hallie hates her with a fiery passion--she had a boyfriend who was old enough to have visited that world before it was sealed off. Anyway, he gave her a bracelet and necklace set he’d picked up as a souvenir, and it’s absolutely to die for. It was gold and silver, but not in that cheesy geometrics two tone way you see on the Home Shopping Network. Delicate silver filigree like vines with little gold buds, looked just like a real plant except for the made of metal and all sparkly part. You almost expected it to grow, like the little gold buds would eventually turn into little gold flowers. Worth half a mil, easy."

"Sounds pretty, though a little too nature girl for me," Buffy said.

"Oh no, very understated and elegant, not earth mothery at all," Anya replied.

"I’ll take your word for it," Buffy said with a shrug. Then changing the subject, "To finally get to my whole reason for coming by, where’d you put the weapons?"

"Weapons? Did you find something?" Anya asked as the bell above the shop door chimed and Methos entered the Magic Box.

"No sign of the cult guys, but I did find a demon nest," Buffy explained.

"Demons?" Methos asked, intrigued. "And you don’t think they’re involved in the current business?"

"Nah... I recognized the type. They’re strictly kill things then eat them kind of monsters. They don’t have the brains for that kind of thing. But, they’re big and strong. I thought I’d better grab an axe before going after them," Buffy said, sounding unconcerned.

"You recognized the type? You saw these demons?" asked Methos.

"They’re... uh... whatsit, those guys with the weird pinchy hands and the fish faces? Will’s spell went wacky and she got one of them all over her boots." Buffy asked Anya.

"Wavran demons," Anya supplied the name.

"Those guys. And, I didn’t actually see them, I saw their nest. Which they should be back to by now, after their morning swim," said Buffy. "Where’s that axe? I want to get this taken care of before they go out for their afternoon feeding."

Anya ducked down behind the counter and came back up with the axe. Buffy calmly took the weapon, not finding anything remarkable about the hiding place. Methos gave Anya a surprised look and Anya shrugged and replied, "Shoplifters."

"Buffy, if you didn’t see these demons, how do you know what kind they are?" Methos asked.

"Distinctive claw marks on a couch one of them used as a scratching post," Buffy answered as she checked the edge of the blade for chips. Then noticing Methos and Anya’s incredulous looks, she exclaimed, "What? So, I’m bad with names. I can still know stuff."

Just then, Dawn and Duncan walked in from the training room. "What’s up with the axe?" Dawn asked.

"Found some demons, gonna go kill them," Buffy explained.

"Cool, can I come?" Dawn asked.

"Don’t you have plans with Janice?" Buffy asked her sister.

Dawn squeaked in surprise, "I totally forgot, we’re hitting the day after the day after Christmas sales. I’ve got to go shower and change, like now, or I’m going to be late."

"Do you need any help?" Duncan asked Buffy.

"Got it covered," Buffy assured him. "A couple--unravel--demons is no big."

"How do you know it’s a couple?" Methos asked.

"Because, Wavran demons always come in pairs," said Anya.

"What she said," Buffy confirmed. "If you’re so curious about the whole demon thing, why don’t you come with?" she suggested to Methos.

"Oh, those," Dawn interrupted, remembering the demons Buffy and Anya were referring to. "Good luck with your weird fishy guys. I’ve got to go," she said waving goodbye to her sister and their friends as she left the Magic Box.

"That might not be such a bad idea," Duncan said to Methos, picking the conversation back up after Dawn’s departure. "It looks like we’re all going to have to do some fighting before this is over. This could be a good chance to get your feet wet."

"Yeah, Mac and Legolas dived right in the other night with all those vampires. You haven’t even seen demons up close and personal yet, other than Anya and she’s been all human face. I’d hate it if you put it off till the night of the ceremony and then just froze on us. It happens to people all the time," Buffy said with a thin veneer of sympathy, actually just picking at Methos.

"How exactly do you kill these Wavran?" Methos asked more amused than irritated.

"Oh, the usual, just your standard slice and dice. You should do fine," Buffy said, not very reassuringly.

"Special powers?" he asked, all business. If he was actually going to do this, he wanted to be prepared.

"Strength, speed, accelerated healing, and they can breathe under water--but I don’t think that’ll come up," Buffy replied.

"Fine then, where’s this nest?" Methos asked, clearly not enthused about the mission he was just about to go on.

"Other side of town. And, cheer up. This is going to be fun. Since, the vamps are all cleared out, I could use a good fight," Buffy said heading toward the front door. Reaching the door and noticing Methos’s not having moved from where he was standing, she added, "Come on sword boy, we don’t have all day. Besides, worst case scenario, you die and I miss lunch waiting for you to wake up."

Methos rolled his eyes, disgustedly mouthed the words ‘sword boy’ in Duncan’s direction, then with a sigh of resignation he followed the Slayer out of the shop.

"Think they’ll be alright?" Duncan asked Anya.

"If they don’t kill each other, they’ll be fine," Anya replied, unworried.

* * * * * *

Faith was dreaming of ice. She was chained in a cave where water was dripping on her head from one of those pointy things that grow on cave ceilings--stalag-something or others, not like it really mattered what they were called. Each drop of water, as it hit her, turned to ice so that she was slowly, drop by drop, being frozen. Then there was a loud sound, like metal gates being shut, and Faith was startled out of her nightmare only to wake to a real nightmare only marginally better.

Faith found herself lying in chains on a cold concrete floor of some sort of warehouse. The roof leaked. Now Faith knew where the dream came from, but she didn’t know much else. Pushing aside thoughts of her dead cellmate, Faith assessed her escape options. It didn’t take but a second to realize that she didn’t have any at the moment.

Faith figured she could take the five hooded guys guarding her cage, easy, but they were the least of her problems. She was securely bound with yards and yards of thick chains wrapped tightly around her body. She could barely wiggle out of the way of the drip, much less work her way free. If she could somehow free herself of the chains, there’d still be the cage to contend with. It was of heavy iron construction with bars running both horizontal and vertical and the bottom of the cage was anchored in the concrete floor itself. A couple kicks with full Slayer strength behind them was not going to get her out of this prison.

"Hey, you! Ugly guys in the robes! What the hell do you want with me?! Why’d you bring me here?" Faith shouted to her captors.

There was no reply.

Deciding to try a different tack, Faith called, "I haven’t eaten in god only knows how long. I’m hungry." Still getting no response, she added, "You guys wanted me alive. You know you have to feed me if you want to keep me that way."

This time, one of her guards turned and answered, "We don’t need you to live that long."

* * * * * *

In another warehouse, Methos and Buffy were fighting a couple big blue demons. They were roughly human shaped, but with fish scales, gills, and multiple eye lids. The demons’ most outstanding feature were their hands. They had hands with eight clawed fingers, four on either side, that is--instead of an opposable thumb, they had four opposable fingers. To make it even stranger, one set of four was webbed and the other was separated.

Buffy was swinging her axe at demon one’s head, but it dodged to the side at the last minute and Buffy only managed to slice off part of its shoulder.

Methos was working on demon two. He’d cut it a couple times with his Ivanhoe, but hadn’t managed any major damage yet. Methos backed off a bit from the fight, trying to put some distance between himself and the monster while he contemplated a new plan of attack.

Demon two, taking Methos’s actions as a retreat, lunged at the Immortal. Accustomed to smarter, more cautious, opponents--Methos was caught completely off guard and his sword was knocked out of his grasp. Methos managed to duck the next swipe, and the next. As he found himself running back and forth across the warehouse, dodging the demon’s punches and trying to make his way back to his weapon, Methos promised himself he was going to strangle the Slayer for getting him into this mess.

About the same time, demon one got in a good swipe at Buffy and the Slayer found herself flat on her back with the handle of her axe wedged under the demon’s chin. The two struggled for control of the weapon for a moment or two then Buffy kicked the demon off of her and into a wall a couple feet away. Rolling to a kneeling position, Buffy hurled her axe at demon two’s back.

Methos’s opponent fell to the floor and started oozing an unpleasant smelling purple substance. Free to retrieve his sword, Methos did just that and a split second later he was beheading demon one, which was coming up behind the still kneeling Slayer, having recovered from its collision with a wall.

Slightly out of breath, and not nearly as irked with Buffy after their victory as he was during his ignominious running from a freaky fish creature, Methos offered Buffy a hand up. "You do this kind of thing often?" he asked.

"Once a week, at least," Buffy said letting Methos help her to her feet, as she inspected her clothes for damage. She was just wearing sweats, so it was no big if there was damage, but it’s a good thing to know. A girl doesn’t want to wander all over town with an embarrassing hole in her clothes.

Doing a little mental math, Methos said, "But that’d mean there’re hundreds of creatures like that--" here he motioned toward a demon corpse with the sword he was still holding, "--how can people not notice six foot tall blue things?"

"Most of the demons here are vampires, they don’t stand out as much. When they’re not all ridgy, they blend. As for the ones that’re less blendy... never underestimate the power of denial and the ability to rationalize and suppress," Buffy said as she pulled her axe out of the demon corpse and looked around for something to wipe the blade with.

"But, this--this is a lot to suppress," Methos protested.

Buffy shrugged. "Maybe so. I get the feeling that most people can’t help but realize that there’s demon stuff going on in Sunnydale, but that doesn’t mean they have to admit it out loud. If they stopped pretending everything was fine, then--gasp--they might have to actually do something about it."

"You think people can just willfully ignore something as real and tangible as this," Methos said incredulously, nudging one of the quite solid demon bodies with his foot to emphasize his point.

"No one noticed the fact that Mayor Wilkins was mayor for an entire century, before he turned into a giant snake and started eating people. Enormous tower built in the center of town by a bunch of crazy people slipped right by just about everyone. And, there are people who came to my funeral who didn’t say a word when I showed up alive and well three months later. By comparison, a couple freaky looking corpses won’t even register on the weird-o-meter, and most people won’t even see them. The police department will haul them away and do whatever it is they usually do with demon remains before too long."

Methos put away his sword, Buffy shouldered her axe, and the two of them started back toward the Magic Box. "The police dispose of demon remains?" Methos asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I used to bury them myself, then I got interrupted one day and had to come back later to find the boys in blue already there. They were bagging, tagging, and hauling away as if they were fairly used to the job," Buffy replied. "After I got over my shock at finding the Sunnydale PD actually doing something useful, I decided to leave them to it. I mean, since they pretty much never actually try to solve crimes, they might as well tidy up after me--and all the intra-demon squabbles that come up. Gives them something to do to earn their pay checks."

"Not keen on the local police department I take it?" Methos observed dryly.

"Being falsely accused of murder kind of made me bitter," Buffy admitted.

"You were accused of murder?" Methos asked curiously.

"Long story."

"It’s a long walk," Methos pointed out.

Deciding there was no harm in Methos knowing, seeing as it had absolutely nothing to do with her sister, Buffy began the tale, "There was skeazy nutbag vamp named Drusilla and..."

* * * * * *

Duncan and Anya were comparing notes on rare artifact dealers and discussing the cross pollination between the antiquities and mystical items trades when Legolas strolled into the shop.

"I was wondering where you were when Methos came in without you a few minutes ago," Duncan remarked.

"I took Dawn’s suggestion and stopped in at Baskins & Robbins. A very hobbit-like invention, ice-cream. I’m surprised no one in Middle-earth ever thought of such a simple thing as freezing milk, cream, and flavorings, considering the results," Legolas explained.

"Ice-cream’s a better invention than automobiles?" Duncan asked, grinning in bemusement.

"Infinitely better," Legolas agreed with a grin of his own, recognizing the seeming ridiculousness of his statement no matter the truth of it.

"But cars are almost inseparably linked to modern capitalism and consumerism. Even without the boon of increased mobilization, the way Henry Ford revolutionized industry alone makes automobiles the better invention--even if the idea was originally conceived by a demon who was tired of dealing with terrified horses and despite the fact that I personally like ice-cream better, especially if it’s strawberry with chocolate syrup--cars are still the better invention," Anya lectured in all seriousness.

Duncan and Legolas paused for a minute, both at a complete loss for words after Anya’s impassioned and somewhat odd speech. Then Duncan broke the silence by asking, "Since Methos didn’t mention anything, I’m guessing you two didn’t find anything on your search this morning?"

"No signs at all," Legolas confirmed. "It appears we must wait till the ceremony itself before we can attack."

"When Methos and Buffy get back, we’ll draw up a plan of battle," Duncan replied.

"Get back from where?" Legolas asked.

"They went to kill some fish demons Buffy ran across," Anya answered.

"Buffy didn’t think it’d be much of a fight," Duncan elaborated at Legolas’s interested look. The elf was used to keeping busy, Duncan could tell all this wandering around town, looking for things that weren’t there, was wearing on Legolas’s nerves--the elf was getting bored. Duncan was a little bored himself, come to think of it. "Methos only went along to get his first up-close and personal look at demons."

"I’ve gotten everything I can do today done already," Anya suddenly said. "What are we going to do with the rest of the afternoon?"

"I don’t know," Duncan said, brow wrinkled in thought.

"We’ve done all we can at present to prevent what is to come and weapons practice as well," Legolas added.

"Well, if neither of you have any suggestions, I’ve got an idea," Anya chirped brightly. "Miniature golf."

"Miniature golf?" Duncan asked incredulously.

"Everyone likes miniature golf," Anya declared. "Besides, it’s not like you have any better suggestions."

Legolas shrugged his agreement to the suggestion not having any idea what miniature golf was but willing to try anything at least once--almost anything anyway.

"Miniature golf it is then," Duncan agreed.

Anya fetched her coat and purse. Then the peculiar threesome went out for an afternoon of miniature golf.

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