Angels and Demons

For the universe and the stars are around you now.
But the healer in your heart is only a breath away.
For there's silence and there's blindness in a raging world.
But the healer in your heart is only a moment away.

After their meeting, Spike, the Summers women and the Michaels men all waited together for the delivery from the Chinese restaurant before they made their way up to the attic where the rest of the rather extended Scooby gang were waiting for a rather less formal version of the briefing. This time it was Buffy's turn to protest about the patrol plans.

"Yeah? Well, don't you think you've got other things you should be taking care of tonight?" Spike nodded to where Dawn, Brandon and his father were walking ahead of them.

"An', besides, like you said, we can't show the bad guys that any of us are hurt. An' that means me takin' my turn. She's your sister. You don't need to say anythin' deep or provide a cabaret to keep her entertained. Just be there for her. Chances are Junior's gonna have to go home an' spend some time with his family for once. She'll need you."

"Look, we'll bring back ice cream an' if Bitlet doesn't want it, I'm sure we can find other uses for it..." The tip of Spike's tongue hovered just behind his teeth as he broke into a grin.

"Tease. You know you're in no fit state to be eating ice cream from anywhere other than a bowl."

Faith paced the room, occasionally letting her gaze drift to the watcher in the corner. She barely resisted the impulse that was telling her to run, knowing that until her patrol partner for the night made an appearance there was nowhere to run to and then there was food and Giles' surprise that had taken all the men to assemble in record time and the women five minutes to make up. And talking of beds...

'Tell him it was a mistake. You changed your mind. It was just one of those moments... but it can't last.' He had softened her up but good. The ride north had been nearly an hour of sea, sun and speed, speed that a watcher had no right to pull off with such effortless style. What happened to the uptight fuddy duddies? Then, before the rush of the adrenaline could fade he'd plied her with the best tacos she'd tasted in literally years and that damn chocolate cheesecake should come with its own health warning. Somehow, he'd managed to get her all full and content. He'd taken her to the nearby motel and he'd done it all over again in different ways. They'd had the kind of slow, fulfilling sex that made most people want to call it 'making love'. They'd still been joined, her head resting on his shoulder when he'd started talking and she'd said it. Chocolate flavoured kisses and the lingering buzz of good sex and she'd said it.

She turned and caught herself watching him again, rubbing at her upper arms and wishing the others would hurry up and get here. He looked up, just as if he knew the second her gaze fell on him. He didn't move, though, or try to crowd her, like he knew how hemmed in she was feeling. He just let his eyes meet hers for a second or two and his mouth twitched into a reassuring smile before he returned his attention to the maps that Amanda was trying to show him and Wes, but tonight he'd be waiting for her in their room, when she got in from patrol. Faith conjured up a picture of the watcher, naked but for a sheet draped over his hips. She turned again and was glad to hear Spike and Buffy's bickering tones echoing up the stairwell before she mentally disposed of that inconvenient sheet and decided to skip patrol altogether. Maybe, this idea wasn't all bad after all, though.

Suddenly a whole room full of people seemed to be vying for the best position to see the happy couple's face when they saw how different their room looked. Faith flattened herself against the wall and let them move past her until she was just another face at the back of the crowd.

Unseen by any of the others, James who had also stayed at the rear of the group took her hand briefly, lifting it until his lips brushed her knuckles before lowering it and loosening his grip to the point where she could slip it free almost without effort.

"What the b-lue blazes is goin' on here?" Spike's voice carried over the crowd, his words edited for Rosa's benefit. "You can't all be that hungry?"

"Buffy's old friend bought you a present," the child responded enlightening him. "Everybody helped fix it."

Lydia leaned into Giles' ear with a wicked grin, whispering something that turned his disgruntled expression into one of slightly embarrassed pride.

The watcher shifted to the front of the crowd without letting go of Lydia's hand and, using the one he had free, flung open the door to Spike and Buffy's room. "You can call it a belated engagement present," the watcher suggested. "I believe I missed the party."

Buffy looked from the bed with its curved beech head and foot boards set into a brushed aluminium frame and then back at the watcher before she almost giggled aloud at Spike's shocked expression and then at the bed again. She bounced on the balls of her feet without even being aware of it, obviously torn between the urge to hug Giles and test the bed. She compromised in the end, grabbing both Spike and Giles and dragging them into the room behind her so that the two men almost collided in the doorway. She loosened her grip just before she threw herself down onto the bed but Spike landed next to her, both of them bouncing several inches on the highly sprung mattress. Buffy drew herself up to perch on the edge of the bed and smile at Giles. "It's perfect. Thank you!"

Spike simply watched his future wife, the joy on her face as entrancing to him now as ever.

"Dawn pointed me at the web site for the store where you bought your bookshelves," Giles answered.

Spike gave a sombre smile and looked Giles in the eye. He inclined his head in a brief nod. "You realise you're going to have a hard time coming up with a wedding present to top this?"

"I suppose you'll have to wait until you're in the area of Revello Drive to let me know if I succeeded."

"There's more?" Buffy asked, throwing herself at her watcher. "Giles... You know if I could, I'd adopt you, don't you?" She held him in a hug that, for once, didn't leave him with cracked ribs. "What d'you get us? Spike, I think we should get married every year!" she babbled excitedly.

"There's no need for that," the watcher quickly averred. "It's really very similar to the suite in Spike's apartment. I didn't want to pick anything where you would have to choose the decor to match and Dawn said that you were planning to redecorate so there was no point choosing something to go with the existing colour scheme. Of course, you can always use that one in your basement and buy a new one for upstairs."

The words carried far enough for Faith to hear and she chanced another sidelong glance at James. 'That's all you know, B. This slayer's had better.'

Finally, Mr Michaels had been introduced to those of the group whom he had yet to meet. The food had been eaten and Faith and Spike had headed out on patrol. Giles, Bee, Wes, Xander and Anya had gone to their rooms in order to change before their evening training session. However, Brandon's father had kept Marie back when she, too, would have left. He'd then drawn Lily and Clem apart briefly while the others tidied the debris from the take away, Tara coaxing Rosa into helping with the washing up. Taking a padded envelope from his bag, he drew a black and white photograph from it, showing it to Lily first. It was grainy and not too detailed. but the face that it showed bore an unmistakeable resemblance to his brother's. Lily gave a solemn nod and Andrew Michaels returned the photo to the envelope and pressed it into Lily's hands.

"I'm sorry," he told all three with obvious sincerity. "I know money can't make up for what you've lost, but I took the liberty of ensuring that you would receive a settlement. If you don't want to use the money, I'm sure it would provide Rosa with the sort of education her father would have wanted for her. The details are in there, along with a tape of the security footage from the last day. If it's any consolation, from what we can see on the tape, his death would have been quick, and the soldier responsible was numbered amongst the casualties."

"Thank you," Marie replied in a subdued tone, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.

"I will need to return the tape, unfortunately. It's not the sort of thing that the government can allow to remain in civilian hands. I'll pick it up tomorrow afternoon. I hope it helps you all find a sense of closure."

"I don't, but Brandon tells me that you have a nice home and a good job that allows you to provide for your daughter. If you ran, then, you'd lose that stable environment that you've worked hard to give her. I know how much my son means to me. I'm guessing your daughter means as much to you. You don't want her to grow up dodging the government at every turn."

"No," Marie acknowledged. "I don't. I know you must have had to call in a lot of favours to get this for us... even temporarily."

"A soldier, even a retired one like me, is supposed to act with honour. I did what was right."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Right now, hitting things seems like a good idea. I'll explain later but there's nothing we can do until after we put Rosa to bed, anyway."

Marie explained to Wes about the package and its contents as they made their way up the stairs to the attic after their training session with Giles.

"Look, I think I should wait in our room," Wes offered as they approached the door to said room. "It seems to me like this is a family thing and it would be wrong for me to intrude."

"Piffle!" came Lily's reply from the living room. "You with Marie now. You her man. You Rosa's, too. Why you think you no family? Who they going to have to help if you not?"

"Are you sure? I mean, I'm always here whenever you want to talk, but I'd understand if you wanted privacy." Wes couldn't help but offer Marie one last get-out clause.

Lily gave a disparaging shake of her head. "Men! They always need be told ten times. Give your woman a hug and get your skinny English butt in here and give her mother-in-law one, too."

Spike avoided the group in the living room when he got back from patrol. Faith had already wandered off somewhere on what he thought of as the second floor, and if Spike's guess was right she wouldn't be returning to the room she shared with Dawn any time soon. He followed the sound of quiet voices and found his three favourite women, sitting in the new bed with their backs against the room's side wall so that their legs stretched out across the width of the bed. They seemed to be fighting over some sort of computer game that Brandon had left behind when he'd left with his father.

"I am so kicking your slayer butt," Dawn argued, her arms stretched out to stop Buffy reaching the console as she played.

"You've played it before," the slayer protested, as Tara simply smiled at the sisterly banter.

"That's fine," Spike told both Summers women with a teasing grin, as he flopped onto the bed next to the witch. "You two can argue over the Gameboy, an' once me an' Glinda have eaten all the ice cream..." He pulled a tub from each side pocket of his duster, passing one to Tara and scattering spoons over the quilt. "...I'll show you both how it's done. 'S all in the wrists."

He didn't put up too much of a fight when Buffy comandeered his tub to share with Dawn, tossing them each a spoon before he started helping Tara with the tub in her hand. All he cared about was seeing his girls happy.

People cry, people moan.
Look for a dry place to call their home.
Try to find some place to rest their bones.
While the Angels and the Devils try to make THEM their own.

Buffy's face flushed slightly and her head turned toward Spike. "It-em-well, it's not really..."

"What Buffy's trying to say is that we wouldn't be able to conceive as a couple. And, yeahhh. I've thought about it."

"You have?" Buffy asked in surprise, staring at her fiancé with a shocked expression on her face and then guiltily glancing at the minister who faced them on the other side of his study table. "I'm sorry. It's just kind of a surprise."

Spike reached out and took her hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing her right beside the band of his grandmother's diamond engagement ring before he explained, his gaze alternating between the preacher and his future wife.

"Buffy's young, yet, an' she's already got more responsibilities than most people see in a lifetime. She's got college to finish an' a career to build, if that's what she wants. We've got Dawn to get through college an' on top of that there's the slaying.

Now, maybe one of these days, Buffy's goin' to want to step back an' let Faith or one of her successors take on some more of that side of things, maybe not. If she decides she wants children, then I'll support her all the way, whether that means finding an adoption agency that won't ask too many questions if the money's right or doing the artificial thing, I don't mind, so long as it's done so that no other man is ever going to walk into our life somewhere down the line and have a claim on our kid.

I know it won't be easy an' she'd probably have to do a lot of stuff on her own, like outings an' school runs an' all that but neither one of us would be sittin' here now if what we were lookin' for was the easy way. Buffy's mother was a wonderful woman, an' I think maybe Buffy's got more of her in her than she realises right now. Chances are she'll want a few years to spread her wings once Dawn's off at college before she even thinks about it, but one of these days, she could make a wonderful mother an', I mean, I know it's not ideal, but I'd be there for the kid a hell of a lot more than some of these guys who work in some office from dawn to dusk or leave them with a nanny all the time." His eyes locked with Buffy's, knowing that she might react badly if she chose to regard the fact that he'd obviously thought this through without consulting her, as him making decisions on her behalf. "All I'm saying is, whatever you want, I'll do anything I can to make it happen."

"You would really be willing to bring up another man's child?" she asked in amazement. "I mean I'm not so surprised at the adoption thing but you are sorta possessive guy..."

"I know. And I'm not saying that I like the idea of another man's kid growing inside you, but it wouldn't be another man's kid, not in any way that matters. He wouldn't touch you, or make love to you, wouldn't hold you through the night, wouldn't be there when you had morning sickness an' he wouldn't get to see that kid that we decided to bring into the world grow up to have its mother's eyes or her nose or her smile. You really think I'd pass up on the chance of watchin' your children grow up an' miss hearin' them call me Dad, just 'cause I can't be their biological father?"

"When you put it that way, I guess not. I just... I suppose I told myself it wasn't possible. Not that it'd be any time soon, but I just never..."

The minister nodded. "Well, I suppose you won't have the problem that some couples have when a child comes along unexpectedly, but bear in mind that if you do have children that it's a long term commitment, one that will make an impact on every aspect of your lives together, and unless the situation changes, your nocturnal activities place you both at risk, so it should be a decision you make very carefully. If you go ahead you should have plans for how the children would be looked after if something were to happen to one or both of you, who would care for them, what sort of financial provision you would make for them, which brings us rather nicely to money. Have you decided how you're going to organise your finances after you're married?"

Giles pushed the double doors open with his back and paused to survey the scene. The room already looked considerably more like a library. There were no more packing cases and the books were now arranged on the shelves according to the same slightly adapted version of the Dewey decimal system that the council had employed for decades. More importantly, thanks more to Penny than to Quentin, even though they had doubled up two to a desk, they had had to move several extra tables in to accommodate all the watchers who were now helping with the research. Some of those who had been unable to work on the titles Bee had highlighted as useful were researching local history and myths to see if they could find some clue on either the seal itself, or how the Turok Han had come to be under the town. Others were going through the Council's references on The First Evil, bringers or Turok Han.

Though Giles couldn't help feeling partly responsible for the fact that there was an ongoing exodus of the local population, it had proved useful in that during daylight hours there had been nothing to prevent teams of researchers from invading every library and museum. The town library had been abandoned as had those on campus, any pretence at a summer session long given up as a lost cause. Only in the local museum had any of the staff remained, a wizened curator who had been recruited after the museum had been sued for negligence for having misplaced a priceless mummy and having the poor taste to replace it with a desiccated corpse that wasn't even the correct sex. A curator who knew something of the nature of the hellmouth, one who, as it turned out, was half demon himself, hiding the golden tint of his eyes behind prescription sunglasses, and just as Bee had done, one who had accumulated his own personal stock of research materials many of which were previously unknown to the watchers.

With all the resources the council had at its disposal it stood to reason that they should have been able to do something about the situation before the level of disquiet was such that people, demon and human alike, were simply leaving town. At first it had been in twos and threes; those who had nothing to tie them down, stay-at-home mothers deciding that the summer vacation gave them an opportunity to visit out of state relatives. The last couple of days, however, had seen streams of cars leaving town.

It was perhaps no wonder that the construction site had been one of the first places to close. Every morning fewer workmen had showed up until it just hadn't been safe or economic to work with so few men especially when they were acting so erratically. According to Xander there had been several fist fights and one guy had tried to drive over another with a mechanical digger.

Spike had received a phone call just the other morning that had resulted in him sending Wesley out to pick up some present he'd ordered for Buffy before the premises were sealed up and the dealer and his family quit town, and this morning they had opened the school's main doors to find all the clothes that Spike had ordered for the wedding, boxed, stacked on the topmost step and shrouded in plastic, even though their final fittings weren't due until tomorrow. With a little over a week to go before the wedding Buffy had already threatened the photographer that she would hunt him down if he went any further than Los Angeles or failed to return if she called him once the situation had been resolved. Bee and Tara, being the most domestically minded of the group, were currently in the school kitchen trying out different cake recipes because the owner of the bakery that had been supposed to be providing the wedding cake had disappeared. Of course, if this had been England they would have had a fruit cake and it would have already been made before he'd done his vanishing act, but these colonials wouldn't know a proper wedding cake if it jumped up and bit them, which he conceded wryly might be just as well, depending how things went in the kitchen.

The florist had already closed up shop and was staying with her sister-in-law some forty miles away, but she had promised that she would be back, however briefly, in nine days time to do the arrangements for the wedding, though Buffy had given the impression that this was solely due to Spike's powers of persuasion. The vampire had apparently spun some tale about being a valued customer, but as Giles had never known the vampire to buy so much as a posy, he found it more likely that he'd threatened the woman into making the concession. Giles didn't even blame him.

Buffy continued to insist that she would deal with the threat before her wedding and plan events accordingly. Her determination was positively frightening, but that day was getting closer and so far there hadn't been any major breakthrough on the research front. The potentials and the younger watchers were getting better, and the best of them were helping out on patrol, but honestly, that was the extent of the available good news. As their bringer prisoner had promised, it didn't seem to matter how many harbingers they killed, more seemed to appear out of the woodwork. Unfortunately, three days after it had been captured, Wes had accompanied Tara downstairs to stand guard while she fed it breakfast, only to find that it had committed suicide by battering the back of its head against the concrete floor until its skull had caved in.

Every night, some of the magic users would cast the spell that allowed them to track different types of demon and the patrols did their best to cull the harbingers' numbers back. Faith, Buffy and Spike were still doing separate patrols in pairs later in the evening that managed to keep the numbers of Turok Han low, but every morning it seemed as if more had replaced them. Often the harbingers flocked around Caleb and though the Turok Han didn't seem quite so dependant on him they also tended to use the tunnels near the vineyard as their base. One thing their research had confirmed so far was that their late prisoner's claim tied in with ancient myths. The First had been able to give its designated champion an unholy strength that was unmatched by any of the forces of light. Then things got a bit hazy. There had been some sort of trickery on the part of the good guys and a truce had been called that basically gave The First dominion over an empty realm but vastly curtailed its powers on this plane. So far, that was as much as they'd been able to glean, but if, as the bringer said, the truce was broken and The First could again grant power to its human champion, then that put Caleb in the same league as Glory, even if he wasn't quite so quick on his feet, but now they didn't have a troll hammer. Buffy hadn't been terribly impressed when Xander pointed out that the only person who had been able to pick it up had had a minor case of death at the end of the battle, but at least she had agreed to avoid any confrontation with Caleb until both she and Spike were fully healed, a time that was fast approaching if it wasn't already here.

Giles carried the two large document storage boxes in his arms over to the table where Penelope was working. He slid them onto the desk.

"Yes, Quentin's Interpol contacts finally came through." Giles took the lid off the top box and removed a bundle of reports two or three inches thick. "I'll start with these. Why don't you allocate the rest as you think fit? You seem to have more luck getting them to cooperate than anyone else."

He watched as she took some of the files from the box and made her way toward one of the tables on the far side of the room. He hoped the key to the problem was in one of those boxes somewhere. If not, he could imagine that this might be a very interesting wedding.

Spike prowled the entrance hall with all the restlessness of a caged tiger, pacing out a territory bordered by bands of late afternoon sunlight.

Wes nodded as he made his way past to the drawing room where a crowd was already beginning to gather. "She'll be fine. It's not like it's the end of the world..."

Spike rolled his eyes and then pinned the watcher with his gaze. "You think?" he asked scornfully, knowing that he, for one, didn't want to be around for the fallout if Buffy's mission this afternoon had been unsuccessful.

Wes tried another tack. "The meeting's due to start. If you don't grab a seat soon-." The watcher stopped, realising that his presence came under the heading of superfluous.

Xander's car had just pulled up at the front of the school, pausing long enough for Buffy to climb out of the passenger door before he continued around the side of the building to look for a parking spot. Spike was instantly as close to the main door as the sun would allow and the slayer impacted hard enough to drive him back six inches or so as she threw herself at him. "I did it!" she exclaimed as he peppered her face with kisses before lifting her with his hands at her armpits and whirling her round and round, so that when Xander did get to the door he had to hang back to avoid being kicked in the chest.

"Told you you would do it," Spike announced gruffly as he finally returned her feet to the floor. Xander slipped discreetly past as the vampire set about kissing his fiancée in earnest.

Spike ignored the first loud cough from behind them, and the second, and the third.

Finally Quentin decided to take a more verbal approach. "I know that saving the world ranks rather low in Miss Summers' priorities, especially in comparison with your plans to make a mockery of the marriage vows, but I was hoping that it came in somewhat higher than indulging in public sex to celebrate something so mundane as merely passing her driving test."

With some reluctance Spike finally pulled away, and Buffy blinked at the council chief as if noticing him for the first time. "Huh? Did you say something?" she asked in a bewildered tone. She smiled as Quentin turned on his heel in disgust, taking Spike's hand in hers and leaning over to gently worry at Spike's earlobe. "I was busy thinking about how I'm going to boink my future husband's brains out," she added just loud enough to raise a growl of laughter from the vampire.

Over the last few weeks the "usual suspects" had expanded slightly from the norm. As well as the expected selection of watchers and Scoobies, James had made the first team and Ha Nath had encouraged the four demons, who, along with her, made up the security detail at the club where she worked, to sign on for the fight. None of them bothered with the PVC and high heels any more, now that the club had been temporarily closed down, but even so, they gave off a strong girl gang vibe that was mostly focused on making sure that Quentin minded his manners. The museum's curator had also earned himself a seat at the metaphorical conference table, though in general he was content to watch. The last of the new additions was Shannon, who had taken over Kennedy's spot as second liaison to the potentials as she still couldn't manage full training with her injuries and, more importantly, as Spike put it, she didn't get on his wick.

Giles rose to his feet as Buffy and Spike entered the room, his congratulations limited to a brief broad smile given the audience. "Alright, I'll begin by recapping what we covered at our last meeting." He frowned as he turned in his pacing to realise that Spike had slid loose-limbed into his temporarily vacated chair and settled Buffy on his lap.

"Shannon was able to give us a first hand description of her meeting with Caleb, last time. We still haven't been able to ascertain whether his claim to have something belonging to Buffy is merely bait for a trap or whether there is also an element of truth. We do know thanks to our bringer friend that Caleb has been gifted with supernatural strength. For this reason we've been avoiding a confrontation with him until Buffy and Spike were fully healed again."

"Ready to go kick preacher butt!" Buffy confirmed. "No more inconvenient bleeding holes."

"Yes, quite, well, perhaps it is time that we tested just how strong the opposition is," Giles agreed, "but if the indications are correct we really don't want any of you standing toe to toe with this fellow. We can discuss this later. We also know, again courtesy of our former captive, that there are thousands of Turok Han waiting underneath Sunnydale to be freed by some sort of blood sacrifice. Unfortunately, further research has failed to come up with more information on either the where or the how." Giles looked surprised to see Oz raise his hand to just above head height.

“Wouldn't that be why they've been stabbing people and then dangling them over some big hokey seal?" the werewolf asked. "Just a thought.”

"Yes, well, you, em, just might have something there. Perhaps we could arrange some form of practical experiment. Are the girls ready to take on Turok Han, yet?" Giles asked, looking to Spike and Buffy and then at Faith.

A glance passed between the two slayers and then both shrugged. "The best ones, probably," Buffy finally conceded, "if me and Faith both tag along. We can try them with one tonight?"

"Now," Giles continued. "We hadn't got very far with the book research last time, but one of Bee's sources has pointed toward a possible weapon in the form of a Nihilist cleansing crystal. There are certain qualifications required in order for someone to be able to wield one of these things." Giles' gaze travelled first to Oz, then to Ha Nath and her companions before finally coming to rest on Spike. "There may be several options open to us, but I believe that this is not a topic for general discussion. If anyone decides to take on the burden, it must be of their own free will, not because they've been pressured into doing so. There may be half a dozen or so of these things in existence, but it could take us months to track one down, so we've commissioned one to be made via a well known magic dealer based in L.A. In fact, Bee negotiated us a rather nice discount due to the impending end of the world."

Bee shrugged. "I called my grandmother. She made Uncle Jacob agree to do it at cost. No biggie. It still won't be cheap once they bring in the freelancers they'll need to enchant it."

"Fortunately," Giles answered, looking in Quentin's direction. "The council has deep pockets. Other than that, we really haven't made too much headway on the research front. The police reports have thrown up some interesting material in the Southern states, which we think may be related to Caleb and we've sent a group of watchers to investigate, but it's all old stuff."

"Actually," Penny raised a hand that held a manila wallet. "Robinson came across an interesting report just before I was leaving for the meeting. It's a little closer to home, it happened less than two months ago and..." She pulled a blown up photocopy of a circular burn with a cross in the centre. "It's got Caleb's mark all over it."

Spike pulled the keys for his bike from his pocket, expecting Wes to be equally keen to take to two wheels, but the watcher shook his head. "Unless you want to be stuck there for a whole day, I suggest we take one of the cars and some blankets and since I can't drive yours with all that paint on the windscreen..." Wes switched off the alarm on his Ford, but Spike's attention was elsewhere.

Wes's eyes narrowed as he realised Spike was still looking at the cars on the other side of the main doors. "We're not taking the Daimler. It's a hire car."

Spike shook his head with a wicked grin and pointed at the silver silhouette that hulked over the luxury car. "Look up. Our little preacher likes setting up blow outs. I figure we need a car that can go off road... and if I've got to curl up on the backseat all the way back, we might as well have something with a bit more legroom. You get some blankets. I'll break the bad news to Rupert about his shiny new 4x4. I bet he's only driven about six miles since he bought it. It's probably still got that fresh leather smell."

It didn't take Spike long to discard most of the CDs that were in the glove compartment and open up the CD wallet he had fetched from his own car. He pulled a disk from its pocket and slid it into the machine, waiting until Wes had pushed a bundle of heavy woollen blankets into the back seat and climbed into the front to press play. Flicking the end of his cigarette out the driver's window onto the drive, Spike gave a joyful howl as Wes turned up the volume and Shane MacGowan's drink-roughened rasps filled the air.

Neither of them had any illusions about the seriousness of the situation they were in, nor of the mission they had to complete but that didn't mean that they couldn't listen to good music. Giles threw open the library window, leaning out to berate them before he realised that anything he might have to say would be drowned out by the strains of "If I should Fall From Grace With God". Suddenly the idea of cursing Spike with a soul and making him wear that trinket when it was ready didn't seem quite so sadistic after all... if only that didn't involve talking Buffy into the idea as well.

Spike snorted as he noticed the first of many banners that decorated the town. "Gilroy - Garlic Capital of the World. Gilroy's World Famous Garlic Festival July 27th & 28th. Think Rupert's trying to tell me something?"

"Like what? That he's noticed the only thing in the school that eats chilli-garlic bread faster than you is Rogue? Just keep going. The mission's the other side of town"

Only minutes later they pulled in beside the mission building. Wesley looked up at the light tucked under the eaves of the main building. "You're safe," he told the vampire. "No shimmering, just good old-fashioned electricity."

There was another electric lantern in the courtyard by the mission's doorway, the potted plants still arranged perfectly, as if the monks had simply gone out for a stroll and not come back.

Spike tried the rightmost of the pair of doors and it pushed open with a loud creak, revealing a dark candlelit interior.

"Hello-o-o! Anybody home?" Wes called out from behind the vampire, figuring that they had already lost any element of surprise they might have had. "Someone had to light the candles," he half-whispered to Spike.

A door was pushed open on their right and slightly behind Spike. Wes took a step to the left and brought up his shotgun, just as a black-robed figure was about to dive at him. The figure stopped dead and raised his hands in the air. Spike was already fairly certain that he would find a human under the dark cowl rather than a bringer. A bringer would most likely have thrown itself at Wesley regardless of the shotgun, not to mention the whole knife thing. He reached out and pulled the hood back, just the same.

Wesley looked at the man who was revealed in some puzzlement. "I thought this was a Franciscan mission. Shouldn't you be wearing brown?"

"Wesley." Spike ground out with a slight hint of impatience. "I think you can stop threatening the nice monk, now."

"Tell me about the mark," Spike's voice was soft yet firm as he raised a hand to indicate the burn on the monk's face, the vampire moving closer in order to check his suspicion that it matched the one Shannon wore on her neck.

"Oh..." The monk lifted a hand to his face, covering the scar and he began to back away from the two intruders, obviously terrified.

"Hey! Are you part of Caleb's faction?" the blond asked, wondering if that were the reason for the man's sudden fear.

The vehement shaking of the monk's head and his obvious distress at the idea as he mouthed a chorus of denial made it clear that he was not.

"Then tell us what happened," Spike continued, resuming the reassuring but resolute tone he had adopted earlier.

Wes checked that the safety on the shotgun was on and rested it against the wall so he could crouch down at the victim's side. "We need your help. It's important."

"We're trying to fight him. Caleb," Spike added. "We need to know everything you can tell us."

Spike tilted his head slightly and looked at the man. "Me, I mighta thought about it, only I'm pretty sure my girl missed school the day they taught running away. She's the stubborn type." Spike extended a hand to the monk and pulled the man back to his feet. "Talk."

"I'll do better. I'll show you." The monk lifted a candelabra from a nearby dresser and began to walk slowly along the corridor as he spoke. "One night, some time ago, a man arrived at our doors."

"And you said, 'Come in. Do some damage.'?" Spike replied, knowing the answer already, since the inscription over the mission door was obviously the reason he had been able to enter rather than what they had thought was the building's abandoned status.

"We are - we are a benevolent order, and, yes, we welcomed him. We offered to feed him... but he had come for something else." The monk stopped in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary which occupied an alcove. With a touch, the back of the alcove and the statue swung away, to reveal a hidden void. "Behind this, he revealed something even we didn't know was here. A secret room." The monk walked into the centre of the room with Spike and Wes following behind. He raised the candelabra high to show three bare walls and on the fourth a medium sized tapestry. "He was excited, talking the whole time... destiny, that sort of thing."

The monk stepped forward, taking down the tapestry from the wall to reveal an inscription in Greek lettering. "He was going on about this ancient inscription. He read it... and he didn't like what it said. His temper... He was the purest evil I've ever seen. He burned his mark on me. And then I ran and I hid... and I listened to the others die."

"And by running away you survived," Wes told the monk in a comforting tone as Spike took the candelabra from the monk and stepped closer to the inscription. "You being here to show us this may make all the difference."

Spike mumbled the words of the inscription aloud as he translated them "It is not for thee. It is for her alone to wield." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

Wes tried to give the monk a reassuring smile as Spike passed on their progress report to Giles. "So... Dominican, then?"

This time, Buffy kept watch herself until Giles' 4x4 disappeared through the school gates. After Spike's decision to come back into the school once already she wasn't taking any chances. As soon as the vehicle cleared the gate this time she returned to her original plan with military precision.

"Okay, I'll go and tell Giles that this evening's training session has been postponed. You three," she said with a nod to Anya, Dawn and Tara, "take the boxes on the right down to the ballroom. There isn't enough space up here. Xander, you've already got yours but I want to see it again, Clem, that one's yours and I'll take Giles his." Her voice softened slightly as she turned to the little girl. "Rosa, you come with me so Mr Giles can't get all mad because we're making him late."

"Okay, it's the only chance we'd get until the next time Spike's patrolling with Faith, and this way Faith's here to mind the fort."

"Ew! No-o-o. Anya and Tara and Xander would be all sweaty... or if they shower, their hair would be all wet." She added the final part as Giles looked like he might dare to interrupt. "And it would be past Rosa's bedtime so she wouldn't get to see everyone else."

There was a gentle tug at Giles' jacket and the watcher found plaintive brown eyes looking up at him. "Ple-ease, Mr Giles."

"Oh, alright, then." He looked at Rosa. "Why don't you go and tell your mother that the evening training's been delayed?" He watched as the girl scurried off eagerly. "Though why she should be the only one to find out after me..."

"It's okay. I was saving how hot Lydia's going to think you look for a back up. Just tell her no ripping any buttons off and no bodily fluids until after the wedding."

Giles reddened slightly, but didn't comment. He looked down at the box that Buffy had deposited on his library desk. "I assume that you want me to try this on now?"

"Yeah, but you'll have to use Lydia's office because we're all in the ballroom. Just give us a few minutes and then come along and knock."

"Why should I start now?" Buffy asked with a teasing smile as she left the room.

"At least you get to breathe... and eat," Anya answered back, as Marie helped to lace her into an ivory satin Victorian-style corset that covered her from breast to hip. "I haven't worn one of these things in nearly a century. I'd forgotten how uncomfortable they were."

"The split in the back of that thing is quite high enough," Buffy added. "You'll just have to take little steps. Now come and help me with these buttons."

Dawn snorted. "You really should have got one with a zip if you wanted it to survive the wedding night."

"No, sweetie, they can see it next week. You have to be careful and not get it dirty now, while you wait until everyone else is ready." Marie tied off the ribbons at the back of Anya's corset and moved to help Tara with hers.

"She'll see it next week, too. Now, just sit down on the bench there and wait until I've finished helping the others."

Buffy turned so that she could watch everyone else getting ready while Dawn fastened the fifty fabric covered buttons that secured the back of the dress. "Hey!! You have cleavage," she protested as she watched Anya don the skirt that went with her Edwardian school marm style outfit.

Anya rolled her eyes. "Even Eddie Izzard has cleavage when he wears one of these things, but no one will see it once I put on that blouse and jacket."

"If you wanted cleavage, then you shouldn't have been living off salad for the last five years," her sister answered unsympathetically. "And you've got more now than you had three months ago. You'd probably look almost normal if you'd been eating Spike's cooking for the last month instead of cafeteria slop. At least you don't look like one of those nasty old prints of kids that look as if they're going to burst into tears any more. You know the ones with the great big animé eyes?"

"No, you couldn't. Spike wouldn't let you. And who else is going to have the patience to do this for you? Couldn't they have made the loops a little looser?"

"No!" came a chorus of replies, but the women stopped chatting and got down to the task of making sure that everyone was fully dressed.

Finally, Buffy looked around the room. They'd have to sort out hairstyles and make-up for the actual day, but all the clothes that Mordecai had made fitted beautifully. There were just four more people to inspect and one of them was on his way north. "You can come in, now," she called imperiously and was almost sure that she heard a muffled, "about bloody time," from the other side of the door.

Xander pushed the door open and stepped in with Giles and then Clem at his heels. Although Xander had lost a few pounds since his own wedding and looked more like the guy who had gone to senior prom and she'd never seen Clem look so elegant, it was Giles who caught her eye. His expression, as he looked at her, was one of awe and unmistakable love.

Buffy blinked away the tears that threatened as she glided toward her surrogate father. "Well, duh. Lydia's not doing so bad either. Now turn around so I can see how that suit looks from the back."

"You don't mind?" Buffy asked Marie as she climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV. All the clothing for the wedding party, except for Spike's suit, was back in its boxes and stacked in the back of the vehicle, ready to be transported over to the reception hall, away from curious vampire eyes. Maybe it was just an old superstition, but on the hellmouth, Buffy wasn't taking any chances on Spike seeing that dress before the wedding day.

"It's not a problem. And it gives me a chance to work out how to get there without Tigger giving not so helpful directions. Lily will give Rosa her bath and read her a story and I'll be back in time to say goodnight. It gives me something else to think about."

"Well, they've had plenty of time to get clear of town and they haven't got into a fight... yet," the slayer supplied. "So, I reckon they're probably in the clear until they get where they're going, which won't be for another couple of hours unless Spike plans on picking up a few speeding tickets."

"No... I mean, normally, Spike's got my back so there's not so much of the worry but lately he's been going out with Faith or doing stuff like this... so, yeah, I worry... but I know that he's a pretty tough guy to keep down and I know that Wes can handle himself, too, and they'll watch out for each other. So, I know it'll be okay, but I can't help worrying just a little.

The claim thing helps, too. I made him promise not to block it, so I'll know if anything goes down."

"I think you're just doing what comes with the territory when you care about someone... but if you want, I can get Giles to let you know when they call in."

"Giles, I need to speak to you about these location spells that you've been getting the spell casters to do." Quentin almost seemed accusatory as he caught Giles coming out of the training session.

"I wasn't aware of any problem. It seems to me that the system is working remarkably well, allowing the patrols to concentrate where they're needed."

"It isn't their use that's the problem, Rupert. It's the results that they've been producing, especially the results they're generating with regards to the occupants of this building. It seems that even after we eliminate all your known associates there are still, as a rule, two more demons than you have informed us about."

"And that was why I was willing to wait and double check the results, but they are consistently out of step with the situation as you would portray it to us."

"I really don't see what you're expecting from me." Giles kept his expression deliberately bland.

"I expect you to tell me which two of your confederates are demons or perhaps you don't actually know..."

"Might I remind you, Rupert, that you recently returned to the council's employ?"

"So long as the council is paying for that cleansing crystal you wanted, then I think it only right that we should be aware of any potential candidates who might be induced to wear it."

Giles gave a cold smile. "That does make a convenient excuse, doesn't it? Though I'm not sure anyone would appreciate your methods of inducement. However, I find myself unconvinced as to it being your true motivation. Rest assured that I will talk individually to those who might be capable of wielding the crystal and will let you know of the results. What I will not do is to disclose the identity of anyone who, thanks to the attitude of people like you, might wish to keep their not-completely-human status a private matter."

"So, you know who these demons are? And you allow them to live amongst us, passing as human?"

"Whereas you would have them sew big yellow labels on all their clothes, I suppose?" Giles gave an impatient sigh. "Unless you wish this entire situation to fall to pieces around you I suggest you back off, Quentin. My confederates would probably survive without the potentials. I doubt the reverse applies."

"Very well, Rupert." Quentin's tone made it clear that the matter was very far from being settled.

Giles waited for Bee to emerge from the women's changing room, falling into step alongside her as she made her way toward the kitchen and the stairs to the attic. As usual, she was the last to emerge, even at this late hour, taking the time to style her hair into that no longer quite so perfect bob, the local hairdressers being amongst the first wave of the Sunnydale exodus, and for the reapplication of her trademark red lipstick and black eyeliner.

"Bee, I need you and Tara to work on something for me. It seems that Quentin is getting overly curious regarding the spells we've been doing and the number of demons inside the school. I'd be grateful if you would either set up some sort of blanket protection on the school or preferably work out a way to mask those people who might not wish to be detected by the spell we've been using... That way, we don't run into complications if Caleb does turn out to be launching an all out attack when the spell is cast."

Bee gave a little smile. "I think we can arrange that. Would it be possible to arrange for Lydia to help with the-." The petite blonde stopped dead as the school was plunged into darkness.

"What the fuck?" Faith spat out, turning from side to side to scan the area for possible adversaries as her eyes adjusted to the sudden absence of any street lights or even the muted glow from the few scattered homes that had still been lit. They had been cutting through the centre of town and the slayer's gaze was drawn immediately to the fire escape at the side of the cinema. "Watch the 'Mini Me's, B, I'm going to check out how far this thing goes." Her sprint gave her the momentum she needed to make the jump and for several seconds she dangled from the bottom rung of the ladder that made up the lowest part of the structure.

Buffy herded the potentials and the almost equal number of watchers into a double-layered defensive circle in the centre of the deserted street, making sure that she could watch Faith from her arc of view. "Number up in twos. I want the twos to close their eyes so they'll adjust quicker, while the ones keep watch. We're too close to where the spell said that ubie was to let our guards down. One."

Amanda, who found herself on Buffy's left whispered, "two," and soon the whisper worked its way around the circle until it came back to Vi on Buffy's right. From behind Vi's shoulder Lydia sounded off and the word chain continued on around those within the inner circle, who were armed with missile weapons. Other than that, none of the potentials made a sound and those who had been designated to do so closed their eyes without comment. No one shuffled nervously or tried to look in any direction other than the one they were facing, even if some of the trainee slayers looked rather more wide-eyed than normal. For weeks now, Buffy and Spike's training had focused on how to work within a group; how, to be successful, it was important to do your own job and trust the others around you to do theirs.

Faith raised herself hand over hand on the ladder until she was able to bring her feet up and climb her way off the first vertical section and onto the metal stairway above. She pelted up the remaining flights and peered around from her improved viewpoint. "Whole town's gone dark. Looks like the people from the power company just got the hell out of Sunnydale!" she called down to the group below.

"Okay, swap," Buffy told patrol members as Faith made her way along the front of the building to get a look in the other direction.

The dark slayer was halfway along the length of the building when there was the unmistakable sound of a crossbow being fired, closely followed by a shout of, "bringers!" She looked down at the awning below with a scowl and hesitated. The guys were okay to take out a few bringers without her. No big. In fact, her view from here should give her the best chance she was going to get for an objective assessment. Not that she liked the idea of missing the fight, but by the time she took any sort of sensible route down there, it'd all be over. She looked over to the mouth of the alley from which the black-robed figures were emerging, gauging their numbers. In their midst she spotted a bald, pale grey head. As if sensing her gaze, it looked up with a growl.

'Ah hell,' the slayer thought, with a glance toward a certain watcher, who was far too close to the vampire for comfort. 'Why should I miss all the fun?' She curled herself into a ball as she jumped over the building's edge, hoping she could get the timing just right to unfurl her arms and legs to absorb the momentum, otherwise this was really going to sting.

The bringers smashed into one side of the defensive circle like a black wave breaking on the shore, but though the circle deformed slightly, it didn't break. Watchers and potentials fought side by side to hold back the eerily silent harbingers. At first, without risking serious injury, the front line could do little more than simply fend off the attacks of their all too numerous opponents. Gradually, those in the central circle were able to take carefully chosen shots and disable or slay the black-robed figures. Maybe that was simply how it seemed to James, his adrenaline-hyped senses allowing him to see what was happening immediately around him with a clarity that was akin to viewing events in slow motion. Beyond the watcher's field of vision, those at the edges of the bringer tide found themselves double teamed and were rapidly culled unless they stepped back, away from the potentials' defensive line, a move that made them safer targets for the bowmen, as it lessened the risk of them injuring the people on their own side. It seemed that the outcome would be hard-fought but inevitable.

James found himself in the heart of the melee, calmly keeping the bringers nearest him beyond the reach of the broadsword he carried. He scored an occasional slash or nick on his opponents, but it fell to those in the row behind to claim most of the finishing blows. His current adversary stumbled forward, as if pushed from behind, and almost in the same moment as he skewered it, he twisted his wrist to relieve the suction on the blade and kicked the harbinger, who had yet to realise it was dead, from his sword. A chilling scream that ended in a gurgle came from his left and he twisted his head to see the young watcher, who just weeks ago had told Giles that Turok Han were a myth, fall at the hands of the very creature he had been so certain didn't exist. The man had been using a halberd that should have allowed him to keep opponents at bay, but the vampire had simply knocked it from his hands with a backhanded swipe and moved in for the kill. The petite Italian potential who stood between James and the other watcher paled, but sidestepped to stand over the body before the ubervamp could take advantage of the hole it had created. From behind, hands grabbed the watcher's clothes and dragged him backward into the safety of the centre and James sidestepped, too, moving closer to the vampire as another bringer made a lunge toward him.

The awning split before Faith could completely recover from her fall and she had to twist in mid-air like a cat to land on her feet. She crouched, legs bent and fingertips barely touching the ground, as she assessed the scene. From down here she couldn't see the ubervamp, just the bringers who had shifted around to surround the potentials. Fighting was fiercest on the far side off the circle, but Buffy, due to the style of fighting they had chosen, was no more free to swap position than any of the others who stood beside her. As she rose, Faith drew a curved dagger, a souvenir of her outing with Wesley, from a sheath inside her boot, and selected a longer than average stake from an inside pocket of her jacket for her off-hand. Sticking to the shadows at the side of the street, she loped toward the conflict.

The bringers had been thinned to little more than a single ring by the time she arrived. She picked off two of them who were engaged with the potentials near the Turok Han in rapid succession, yanking them off balance by grabbing a handful of the back of their hoods and then using her dagger to slit open their throats. By the time The First's forces were aware of the enemy at their back the slayer had snapped the neck of a third and the Turok Han found itself with three opponents at its front and a slayer at its back. Turning to face Faith, it caught her with a spinning kick that knocked her stumbling to one side. The Vampire followed on from its attack, driving her back further with another kick until it was out of range of those who formed part of the circle. Bolts thudded into its back and side every time the distance between it and Faith allowed the good guys to fire on it with a degree of safety, but it seemed to swat them off as if they were mere inconveniences.

The little Italian potential caught James' adversary with a gutting slash from the side, just as Buffy gave the command for them to, "Mop up!" Those in the centre drew swords and other weapons and took position around the injured. The outer circle dissolved, its people freed at last to pursue the enemy. James dropped his sword and picked up the polearm that lay on the ground by his feet. As if he were ten feet from the goal line with a line of opposing players in his way, he used all his speed and body mass to give him the forward momentum he needed and charged the ubervamp. When the tip of the halberd hit it square in the back he kept going, even though his arms juddered with the shock. He felt an impact at his back and recognised Buffy's voice urging him to push. Then, there was nothing holding them up and he and the slayer tumbled to the floor, as Faith dodged to one side to avoid being impaled.

"Geez, B, ain't that vamp hottie you're gettin' hitched to enough? This one's taken." She reached down and, grabbing a handful of the watcher's T-shirt, she hauled him up far enough to steal a kiss.

By the time Giles and Bee made it to the basement, where he and Anya had stacked away several hundred candle holders, a couple of dozen safety lighters and a couple of thousand tea-lights, the former demon had already beaten him to it and was standing guard over the supplies. The four candles she had lit illuminated the stairs and the area nearby, the only light that Giles had seen in the building.

"I've sent Dawn and Brandon around all the dormitories to get one person from each to come down and get supplies. I told you we'd make a killing if this happened. Here. These are for upstairs. I've allowed us double because we've got all those individual rooms to light." She pushed two boxes of candle holders, two trays of candles and two safety lighters in Bee's direction. She lifted a nearby clipboard, scanned down until she found the line marked 'Attic: 24 bulb style candle holders, 2 x 12 tea-lights, 2 x safety lighters'. She stabbed at the box next to it with her pen. "You need to sign here. It looks better than if I do it," she told Bee. "Come back tomorrow between three and four for more candles. Giles will be here."

She picked up a magic shop gift bag and passed it to Giles, who seemed slightly nonplussed by this announcement. "One small room package," she told him, watching to make sure that he, too, signed for his and Lydia's allocation. "It's easier to pass them out while it's still light, and I shall be at The Magic Box. I am sure that those people who do not treat this as a cue to leave town will wish to purchase extra candles. I intend to fetch the slug candles from the store room and offer them for sale at a discount. We could bring some here and issue them to Mr Travers for his personal use. Of course, for him, we would charge full recommended retail."

They didn't really expect the ambulance service to be running but Lydia tried dialling nine one one on her mobile phone, in any case. When she couldn't get anything other than a busy signal, she rang Giles instead and when it turned out that he still hadn't got into the habit of carrying his mobile with him, Buffy rang Xander's number.

Less than ten minutes later, Xander's car pulled up next to the group and they manoeuvred the watcher who had been most seriously hurt into the back seat. One of the potentials, who had a deep but not life-threatening cut on her arm, climbed into the passenger seat and Xander headed for the hospital.

When he got there, the place was in total disarray. Although it had an emergency generator, and unlike most of the other buildings it still had limited electricity, staff were scarce and it appeared that many of those who were there were spending more time trying to discharge patients where possible and get others reallocated to other facilities in the area than admitting new arrivals. In the end, Xander picked a random white-coat as he bustled through the emergency waiting room and dragged him over to where the watcher lay sprawled across a sectional sofa. "Fix him! And while you're doing that you can find someone to stitch her up, because once that shirt's soaked through I'm not stripping down any further," he added with a nod in the direction of the blood-stained blue denim shirt that the potential had wrapped around her arm.

Giles didn't need to ask how it had gone as he watched the group trail wearily back down the drive.

"It might help if you kept your mobile with you," Lydia remarked dryly, as she curled an arm around the older watcher's and stood on tiptoe to give him a tired peck on the cheek.

Lydia held out her hand and Giles reached into his pocket and placed the device on her palm. "It also helps if it's switched on."

"Wounded to the kitchen. Everybody else get what sleep you can. No training until tomorrow afternoon," Faith called, giving Giles a nod of greeting as she made her way past him and the blondes to get the first-aid post set up.

"Nice to know that you still haven't made your peace with technology. I bet you're even enjoying the atmospheric candlelight. Come on, we'll swap in the battery from one of the spares, otherwise Spike'll break every speed limit in the state to get back if he can't get through."

"Or he might try ringing you at two in the morning or whenever it is that they expect to get there."

"He'll do that anyway once he knows we're back from patrol. Oh, and tell Wes to call Marie, too."

Giles dutifully followed Buffy to the attic, but he saved his questions about patrol until he returned to Lydia's office. "How bad was it?" he asked, his eyes on the blonde who was already stretched out on the sofa with a quilt covering her lower body, her golden hair draping her shoulders, so that Giles was unable to tell whether she wore anything under the covers or not.

"Massey won't make it out of hospital any time soon, and Claire Wisniewski should probably get out once they stitch up her arm, but it'll scar... badly."

"And the Turok Han?" Giles asked, pulling his shirt off over his head and sliding off his jeans before he joined the woman under the covers and wrapped his arms around her satin draped frame.

Neither of them bothered to extinguish the few small candles that lit the room before they curled around each other, and hours later when Spike called, Giles still lay awake in the same position. He didn't think Lydia had slept either.

Oz made his way through the library until he spotted Giles' head over the top of a stack of text books.

"Got it," he told the watcher, sliding a receipt toward the older man. "Restocked the fridge some while I was there."

"Who is around upstairs at the moment to help out?" the watcher asked.

The werewolf ran a hand through his currently dark brown hair and shrugged. "Xander, Brand and Dawn, but I don't think Buffy would rate her little sister going out on this one... That Amanda kid."

"Faith and Buffy?"

"No Buffy. Bad night or so Dawn said... Faith?" He shrugged again. "I could try her room if you want."

"Do that. Get James too. Tell everyone who's coming to be in the foyer at half past ten."

Oz gave the barest possible inclination of his head.

Giles picked up the receipt and made his way to what had once been the stable block.

"Are they ready?" Giles looked at the slightly built, bespectacled watcher who had taken over the small building. It looked like a mixture of scrap yard and workshop. Various devices were bolted down to the massive workbench that dominated the centre of the room. Tucked under the table was a refuse sack full of drinks cans that were undergoing a type of recycling that was slightly different than that which the soda-drinking potentials were probably expecting.

"Ain't this where you tell me?" The man pushed a small box of shotgun cartridges toward the watcher and then moved to open a long narrow safe, set into the cement floor at the back of the room. "How many?"

"Two should be sufficient, I believe."

The wiry-looking old man pulled a brace of pump-action shotguns from the safe. "Handguns?"

Giles considered further. "Another two."

The other man grunted and pulled out a pair of Desert Eagle handguns with a slightly pinkish looking silvery sheen. "Titanium Carbon Nitride finish. Good for resisting rust, not that it's much of an issue here," he provided, catching Giles' look of distaste. "Take whoever's going to be using them out back and make them fire off a couple of practice rounds."

"Even what's left of the Sunnydale police might come to investigate the sound of gunfire," Giles argued. "They've been rather more belligerent than usual of late."

"Suit yourself. Ain't my fault if the casin's hit them in the head 'cause the dumbasses can't deal with the recoil." He opened another box inside the safe and pulled out a box of ammunition. "Hollow points. If the gun jams, just bring it right back here. Don' go tryin' to clear it yourself."

"If the guns jam there's a good chance no one will be bringing anything back."

The wizened-looking man wheezed out something that might have been a chuckle.

"If Buffy wasn't my sister, you'd let me go." The teen climbed out of Oz's van to better get in Giles' face.

"If Buffy wasn't your sister and Debbie Harry wasn't about to be your brother-in-law, then we all might have a chance of surviving if we let you come with," Faith pointed out. "Get back in the van. Keep the engine running, look out for bringers and, if we don't come out within the next quarter of an hour, go fetch help."

Giles passed a handgun each to Faith and to Oz. "The shotguns should do the job, but if it looks like the situation is out of our control, then you might want to use these. Head shots are the only thing that'll bring them down, so don't waste bullets on anything else, unless it's the only way to avoid hitting one of us. Make sure you're braced properly and holding it firmly. Safety is at the side, and it's currently on. If it jams, go back to your primary weapon." The watcher indicated the halberds that everyone except he, James and Dawn were carrying.

"Hey!" Dawn rolled down the van window. "What about random people wandering in off the street? What do I do with them?"

"It's a closed site. There shouldn't be anyone just wandering in," Xander argued.

"Wanna tell them that?" Dawn replied, twisting and sliding until she sat in the van's window space with only her legs inside the truck. She pointed across the van's roof at a group of teenagers, who were making their way over a flattened portion of perimeter fence.

James passed his shotgun back to Giles, who stowed both the larger, more obvious weapons in the back of the van once more. Oz let his halberd drop to the ground and the others followed suit before they stepped away from the cover of the van to get a good look at the gaggle of kids who were making their way toward them.

"This site's off-limits to the public," Xander shouted. "Just turn around and we won't have to call the cops."

"You tryin' to say that the old guy an' the bimbos are union? You've got no more right to be here than we have. You're not going to be calling anybody."

"Well, in that case," James called back. "I guess we're just goin' to have to make you leave all on our ownsome."

The guy who seemed to be in charge of the opposition looked around at his rather larger group of companions and then back at Xander, Brandon, Giles, James and Oz. "A runt, a senior citizen and three of you against ten of us?"

"Hell, no!" Faith responded, as she broke into a run that closed the last twenty feet between the two groups. "For ten of you, I don't need any help."

"Do try not to kill any of them," Giles drawled, as some of the gang skirted Faith, deciding to bring the fight to the others instead. "It might be rather more difficult to obtain a pardon for a third murder." The leader of the group paled slightly at Giles' blasé tone the watcher noted with satisfaction, while he waited nonchalantly for one of the teens to make a try for the easy target. His kick made a satisfying crunch as it shattered the youth's kneecap, and he easily deflected his adversary's punch with his forearm before his fist connected with the teenager's jaw and sent him sprawling to the ground, where he had the good sense to stay. "Senior citizen, indeed," the watcher muttered.

He looked around and realised that the fight was already all but over. James had taken position at Faith's back, and with only those at her front to worry about, a few well-placed punches and kicks had disposed of half the opposition within seconds. James took out one on his own, as, Giles noted, did Xander, using the martial arts that he'd been so reluctant to learn. Amanda was coping ably with an opponent six inches taller than her and twice the width, right up until Oz tapped him on the shoulder. As he turned, Amanda kicked him behind the knee, dropping him to a kneeling position and Oz punched him squarely on the jaw. It was done.

"Dawn, that really isn't what Faith meant by stay in the van," he added as the one-time Key kicked at a prone figure.

After some further remonstrance, Dawn was eventually returned to the confines of the vehicle and everyone else reclaimed their original weapons. Oz grabbed a large grocery sack from the back of the van, and they were ready. As they made their way toward the basement they discovered a few more citizens had taken refuge within the building. None of them were particularly friendly, but none of them remained conscious for very long, either.

"This is it," Xander announced, indicating a doorway. "Things get a bit fuzzy beyond this point. Walls don't seem to match the plans. Turnings that're there one day are gone the next. We'll just have to play it by ear." He pushed open the door and a fresh wave of sound reached them.

Faith brushed past him, taking the lead. "Or we could just see where the chanting's coming from."

The 'Fiat Lux' spell that Giles had had Tara prepare turned out to be unnecessary. Far from having to search out the seal, it was in the room adjacent to the entrance. It was also glowing brightly enough to illuminate the whole room. As they made their way down the steps the chanting stopped. The people in the basement were dressed in every day clothes. They ranged from around Dawn's age to older than Giles and the watcher felt a twist in his stomach as he recognised a former patron of The Magic Box turn sightless eyes upon him.

"More will give themselves. My master's power grows with every day that passes and more will be drawn to him." Giles remembered the captive bringer's words and for the first time their meaning was clear. These people still had hair, they wore their own clothes rather than black robes, and if the chanting was any indication, they still had their tongues. However, unlike those they had incapacitated on their way in, these were no longer human. They were the enemy.

Faith vaulted the rail at the side of the steps as soon as there was sufficient clearance between it and the floor above. Xander hesitated for a fraction of a second while he considered following her example, but the prospect of landing in a tangle of body parts and sharp-bladed halberd didn't appeal too much, so he kept on going down the stairs. James pressed close on his heels with Amanda behind him.

Three of the new harbingers moved to intercept Faith, but two reached the bottom of the narrow staircase. Xander didn't have space to use his polearm properly and none of the others could get past him to help. There was a sound from behind him; a sound that had always made him think more of a ripped Linda Hamilton in T2 than watchers and demon hunting, but Xander wasn't that slow that he didn't know to duck. The bringers obviously didn't have the same appreciation of the classics. Everything from the collarbone upward on the nearest bringer dissolved into a red mist. Its companion seemed oblivious to the carnage and yanked at Xander's ankle, dragging him bouncing down the last couple of steps. Amanda let out a piercing whistle and it straightened up as if to see where the noise had come from. That gave James his shot and it met a similar fate.

Faith threw the halberd like a spear, impaling one of the harbingers so deeply that six inches of blade protruded from his back. She whirled between her remaining opponents like a dervish, delivering blows with impartial hands, feet and, on occasion, her head. The rest of the group filed down off the stairs, but stayed back, confident that their help would be neither needed nor wanted and reluctant to intervene in any case lest they disturbed the balance of the fight... until one of the bringers staggered back close enough for Giles to club it into submission with his rifle butt. Faith literally threw herself at her remaining opponent, in a move more reminiscent of Saturday morning wrestling than any of the council approved manoeuvres. She flew feet first through the air to grab her in a headlock, twisting the bringer's neck and dragging her to the ground as they both landed on the glowing seal.

Faith pushed herself back up to her feet and nudged the body of the bringer with a heavily booted foot. "Rest of you guys planning on joining me any time soon, or are you all too hot and bothered watching me do my thing to get in on the action? Maybe you want some quality time with your lonely right hands before you get to work."

"Faith, I hardly think we've done anything to deserve those remarks," Giles protested.

"No? You think I don't know exactly what every guy I've ever met has wanted from me... From Uncle Johnny when I was twelve and the three minute wonder..." She tossed her head toward Xander without looking up from the harbinger's corpse. "Right on through to our Scottish friend. All I am to them is how I look... how I feel when I ride them." Her head lifted and she raised clouded eyes to stare at James. "And all they are to me is a vibrator that doesn't need batteries."

There was a coldness in James' eyes as he passed his shotgun to Giles. That was the only warning he gave before he launched himself into a headlong dive at the slayer.

Faith gave a half snort of disdain as she sidestepped out of his way and he only just managed to tuck into a roll that took him beyond the seal's far side. "You really think you can bring it to me? You think you can keep up with me in any way, shape or form? I must be good. Maybe I should try out for Julliard."

"Or maybe," James retorted, his tone bitter, his accent becoming stronger with the derision in his voice, "you should just take yersel' doon the docks like the hoor ye are, an' that way the poor bastards that have the misfortune tae have anythin' tae dae wi' ye'll ken whit they're lettin' themselves in for."

Faith ran at him and he didn't even try to block. He just grabbed a handful of denim jacket as he let her impetus drive them both over, taking the punches she threw until he could wrap strong arms around her and hold her to him. The punches slowed and then stopped. When he risked taking an arm from around her torso to push her hair away from her face, her eyes were brown again; brown, and hurt, and defiant and confused. He loosened his other arm and the slayer immediately pushed herself away.

"Are we gonna do this thing, or what?" she asked.

Pouring pig blood onto the seal, watching it open and even clinically dispatching the Turok Han that emerged with the shotguns seemed like an anti-climax after that. Faith was first out of the basement. James lingered to cast one last glance at the still glowing seal.

"I'm sure, once she has some time to think about it, she'll know that you were simply doing what it took to get her to move off the seal," Giles told him in his most reassuring tone.

"Yeah, an' I'm sure that she more than half believes every word that came out of her mouth."