Chapter 31

A/N: Fair warning: This is not the end of the Prophecy. I wrote too much, so I’ve had to cut the chapter up into 2 chapters. Now, you won’t be getting the next one until next week. I know you guys have been so patient with me, and I appreciate that. I really do. I promise you, next Monday the final chapter will be posted. I’m still iffy on an epilogue, but odds are in its favor. Thanks again for all the support. See ya soon! Witchie

Wind whistled through the stillness of the suburban street. Like tiny fairies, it played with Buffy’s hair, pulling the strands into her eyes. She reached up, distractedly, to push the pesky strands behind her ear. The act drew her attention away from the departing car. Getting Dawn to leave had been the biggest chore of the day, and the funniest. She was as stubborn as Buffy and as pig-headed and smart-alecky as Spike. Buffy figured this might be a preview to Bitty. If that was the case, Buffy’s teenage years were going to pale in comparison to her daughter’s. Karma, indeed.

Buffy scanned the quiet street as she curled into the wicker chair. She could feel eyes on her. No warm fuzzies, so she knew it wasn’t Spike. Well, let them watch. Let them report back to Travers that all was well. Let him lower his guard so we can get in and get Bitty. Buffy couldn’t help but smile.

What are you smiling at bitch? Shackleford thought to himself. The uneasiness that had plagued him the previous night returned in full force. Did she know he was watching her? It wasn’t a big reach to suspect that Slayer and her group knew. After all, she was a natural born hunter. Like her husband, she hunted her prey. If that was the case, and his cover was blown, Shackleford needed help. It really chafed his ass, but there was nothing to be done about it. He couldn’t be in two places at once. Travers would not be pleased if Dawn Summers escaped his snare. Besides, Shackleford really didn’t want to delve into the bowels of Travers’ psyche and imagine what he’d do to him if he failed. It would probably be as depraved as his own mind.

The cell phone found its way easily to Shackleford’s hand. He waited patiently for the international call to connect. All the while, his gaze never left the small form of Buffy Summers.

“I’m on vacation.” Came the curt reply from the other end.

“Cancel it. I need you back in Sunnydale. You’ll have to take a commercial flight. Mr. Travers’ plane is unavailable at the moment.” Shackleford narrowed as a car pulled up to the curb outside the house. Buffy stood, waving at the occupants.

Shackleford recognized the driver immediately. It was the store owner. The gal didn’t look too bad for nearly being blown to bits. Her friend was another matter all together. She definitely looked good. Too good for Shackleford’s liking.

“Focus, man. Focus.” He muttered, ignoring Dewey entirely.

“I am focused. I’m focused on my tan.” Dewey answered, ready to fling the phone into the Seine.

“Are you still talking?” Shackleford queried. “You were contracted to do a job. It isn’t completed. Would you like for me to come there and terminate it?”

Dewey blanched. He knew money would not be the only thing he’d lose if told Shackleford to fuck off.

“Mere.” The affectionate name for his mother slipped unbidden past Dewey’s lips. “My flight arrives in LA at midnight.” Dewey remarked, running his hand over his face.

“See you then.” Shackleford grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why did I have to come dressed like this?” Xander groused as he and Anya parked the car in front of Buffy’s.

“Because you’re on the outs with Buffy and Spike and wouldn’t be allowed in their house if they were vengeful, spiteful people.” Anya told him matter-of-factly.

“Don’t you think I know that, Anya.”

Anya looked at him queerly, then looked past him to Buffy. “Buck up, Xander. It’s for a good cause. Besides, Hallie has a great pair of legs, and her breasts are perky.”

Xander smiled briefly, before realizing he was essentially checking his own body out. Well, the one he’d borrowed for another five minutes, and boy, he couldn’t wait for Willow to remove the glamour spell.

Xander took a deep breath, resisting the urge to readjust. Girls don’t adjust. At least not down there anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy’d warned him, before she walked Dawn outside, what to expect, but still that hadn’t been enough. Spike had never been a fan of magic. But after today, count him as magic’s number one fan. Somebody up there, really liked him.

“One word, Spike, and I will deck you.” Xander grumbled.

“And I’ve got no problems with hitting a lady.” Spike replied with a grin. His fondest wish had come true. Xander was someone’s bitch for the week. It was no less than what he deserved, but still Spike was appreciative. And seeing Buffy’s hazel eyes glittering with amusement, Spike knew she recognized the karmic value of the situation too.

“Now that the gang’s all here, minus one wicca. Let’s get started.” Spike announced, slipping his arm around Buffy’s waist. They shared a moment and a grin before turning serious.

“Hi, Spike. How are you?” Anya greeted. She fairly bounced into the room, the energy coming off her palpable.

Who spiked Anya’s Cheerios this morning? Buffy wondered. She’d only seen the ex-demon, full-time capitalist like this after… Oh! Buffy blushed. She took in the furtive glances passing between Giles and Anya, and got the picture. Eww…Giles sex.

“Somebody got lucky.” Spike mumbled, confirming Buffy’s own musings.

“Willow has written out each of our parts in the ritual.” Giles explained, handing Buffy and Spike a sheet of paper with bullet points and arrows. Spike’s brow quirked in amusement.

“What? No diagrams.” He joked, then instantly felt remorseful as he noticed the fearful _expression in Willow’s eyes. “I was just kidding, Red. These are perfect.”

“Oh, it’s not the diagrams. Just tell that to the mariachi band in my tummy. I could relax if they weren’t playing 24/7.”

Xander draped his arm over Willow’s shoulder. “Can I request a song? The only one I know is “La Cucaracha”.

Xander’s joke seemed to be just the thing to relax Willow. Her body sagged into his Hallie body.

“I’ve got to change you back.” She told him, grimacing as she stepped back. “It’s kinda creepy hearing your voice, but feeling Hallie’s…umm…you know whats.”

Spike turned his head so he wouldn’t laugh. Buffy looked up at him and winked. “Weird and Sunnydale. Two very mixy things.”

“Most definitely, Luv. Just look at us.” He said with a smile.

Buffy’s grin fell, and Spike was briefly concerned, but Buffy reached up and caressed his cheek with her fingers. “No, Spike. We were meant to be.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Executive meeting. Wednesday at 10 am.

Olivia reread the sentence again. The six words confirming their theory of Travers’ next move.

“That didn’t take long.” She said, folding the missive and placing it back in its envelope.

“No, it didn’t. I’ve already spoken to Yvonne and Edwin. They received a summons as well.”

Olivia pursed her lips as she thought about their actions of the last few days. They miscalculated before, and Reginald had lost his life. They could not afford another blunder like that. The consequences this time could have a rather devastating effect on the world.

“Are you concerned we’re not prepared to handle Quentin?” Edgar asked, pinning Olivia to her chair with his hard gaze.

“If we fail, there’s no one left to oppose him. Could you sleep at night with the weight of that failure over your head?” Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to calm her shaky nerves.

“I don’t sleep anymore. Not since I learned of Reginald’s murder. I will not rest until Travers is in his grave.” Edgar’s calm, even voice replied. “To eliminate the possibility of Travers escaping our net, I would like to speak to Rupert Giles. I am certain he and Ms. Summers would like to be on hand to ensure our success.”

“I doubt Rupert would answer my call.” Olivia replied sadly. “He’s not very accommodating to those he feels have betrayed him.”

Edgar nodded. “He will accept your call because he knows you are working to bring Travers down. Not only that, but we are here and the child is here. He’ll accept your call. If it were my child,” And he paused as the grief pulled him under again. “If it were Reginald, I would work with my worst enemy. When it’s your child’s life at stake, nothing else matters.”

Edgar pushed the phone towards Olivia. “Go ahead. Give Mr. Giles a call.”

It was all about the mission. Olivia knew that and still the decision to exclude Giles and Buffy weighed heavily on her conscience.

“Hello, Rupert.”

“Hello, Olivia. What can I do for you?”

Olivia grimaced, but didn’t allow the coldness in Giles’ voice to deter her. “I thought you would like to know what’s happened.”

“Travers has called an Executive meeting.” Giles replied dryly.

Olivia’s jaw dropped before she could stop it. It never ceased to amaze her, the connections Giles had, even across the pond.

“We believe he will bring the baby to London. To show her off so to speak.”

“You believe, but you don’t know for certain?”

“My contacts have been unable to discover anything about her. Travers has covered his tracks well. There are no financial records to indicate he’s even prepared so much as a room for her arrival.” Olivia replied.

Giles was tempted. He could lie to Olivia, but he felt the call was an olive branch. One he couldn’t refuse to acknowledge.

“She’s in Scotland. You’ll understand if I don’t reveal her exact location to you.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I know you don’t believe me, but I would never harm that child.”

Giles believed her. He’d known her too long to doubt the emotion he heard in her voice. “You might not, but the Council would. What’s your plan? I assume your organization has something planned to stop Travers’ self-coronation.”

“We do. We’re going to bring charges against him, for Reginald’s murder, for the attempted murder of Buffy and Anya, for his secret operations that have put the Council on the verge of war with the First Evil.”

Giles laughed. Their plan was preposterous and doomed to failure. There was no humor to be found in the potential slaughter of dozens of Watchers, but the simplicity of their plan was laughable. “And you believe Quentin is going to step down and hand over the reigns of the Council to you? Quentin is a bastard. He’ll dance on your graves. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“We realize there is a certain lack of action to the plan, but it is all we’ve got. Once he’s confronted, he will be forcibly removed and imprisoned until a tribunal can be convened.” Olivia retorted angrily.

“You are fools.” Giles responded. He felt the need to reach through the phone and shake Olivia till her eyes crossed.

“Maybe we are, but we have to do something. Too many people have been hurt by Travers’ actions. Too many lives have been sacrificed in his drive to be omnipotent.”

“Reginald.” Giles murmured.

“Yes… Reginald.”

Anya tugged at Giles’ arm. “Are you going to tell her?” She whispered.

Giles’ gaze fell on Buffy, and he felt the familiar catch in his heart whenever he saw her. The image of her broken body was forever burned into his memory. Her resurrection had been a godsend. Yes, they deserved to know.

“Reginald survived Travers’ attack. He’s alive.”

“What did you say?” Olivia’s widened. She knew she’d misunderstood Giles. What he said wasn’t possible. Hadn’t Travers assured her of Reginald’s death in gory detail. ?

“He’s alive, Olivia.”

“Reginald’s alive.” Olivia repeated, whether it was an utterance of disbelief or an announcement to Edgar Smythe-Bailey, Giles did not know.

“Olivia, Olivia…” Giles shouted. “Reginald is at Sunnydale Memorial. If you want to speak to him, you’ll have to do it through his nurses. He’s in the intensive care.”

Olivia wiped at her runny nose. “Thank you, Rupert. I’ll call you if we find out anymore information about the baby.”

“That would be helpful, but don’t worry about Bitty. Her family will get her back, not the Council.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander tried to block out the sound of Buffy’s boots as they clicked along the concrete floor. He wanted to tell her she was making him nervous with her pacing, but he could see the concern in her eyes.

He was a little scared himself, but he trusted Willow with his life. Xander wasn’t sure what he’d done in this life to deserve Willow’s love, but he’d never take it for granted again.

“Xander, you’ll need to stay within the parameters of the inner circle.” Giles advised him. “If you step outside of it… Well, don’t step outside of the circle.”

Xander stepped within in the circle, careful not to disturb the powder ringing it. There was barely enough room for him, but he managed to get his feet inside. Anya adjusted the straps on the backpack, making sure it stayed within the boundaries of the circle.

“No matter what happens, don’t move.” She warned him.

Xander glanced down at her and smiled. “I won’t.”

Spike could sense the fear that Xander valiantly attempted to hide from the girls. “Good luck.” He told him.

Xander’s eyes showed his surprise and gratitude, something Xander was sure he’d never given to Spike before. “Thanks.”

“You might want to take a step back.” Willow warned. She grasped Tara’s hand and they began to chant. The powder flashed, igniting like gunpowder. A blue light enveloped Xander, and then there was nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!” Xander screamed. When he realized the burning ache that had raced through his body had stopped, he cautiously opened one eye, and laughed. The cow staring back at him, continued to chew on his blade of grass as if it were an everyday occurrence to see a man pop out of nowhere screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you!” He shouted, dropping to his knees and kissing the ground. It was only when he got a whiff of the steaming pile a few inches from his nose that he stood up and gagged.

Shaking it off, Xander pulled the backpack off and rummaged through it till he found the map. Willow had Googled and found a map of the island. He checked his watch and set the timer. They were only giving him two hours to find Bitty and store the gear before they zapped him back.

“Hold on, Bitty. Uncle Xan’s coming.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reginald studied the line of stitches that encircled his neck like a garish necklace. Though ugly and unsightly, it was a symbol of pride to him. He had survived. Good had triumphed over evil. At least, it had for the moment.

“The doctor would be very upset if they saw you touching your neck.” Arik admonished him as he laid the wound care kit on the side table.

Yes, I’m sure he would. Reginald responded. Sarcasm was hard to project on an eraser board.

Arik snickered. “Don’t worry. You will be out of here soon enough. A few more days, and you can go home.”

Reginald’s eyes frowned. Home. England. His father. What would his father think of him? He’d always been so disappointed in his choices. Even though, his choices were Edgar’s choices. He held his father in high regard. Thanks to Travers, he’d never be able to tell him that.

Arik gestured for him to lean back, and he compiled, too depressed by his recent train of thought to do much else. Arik worked quickly to cleanse the wound and apply an ointment to reduce infection. He tapped Reginald on the shoulder.

“All done. Do you need anything?”

Reginald shook his head no.

The phone rang, but Arik was already out of the room. Reginald stared at it. He couldn’t talk to whoever was on the other end, and there was also the fear he had been discovered. Curiosity won out and he picked up the receiver.

“Hello. Hello. Reginald?” Reginald had never heard his father sound so timid, so unsure of himself. His mouth crinkled as he fought back tears. He took a deep breath and tried to answer him, but the only sound emitted from his throat was a tiny squeak. It was all Edgar needed to hear.

“Reginald…I love you son.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander tucked the key to his newly rented room in his inside pocket. It hadn’t taken nearly as long as he’d estimated to get to the town. He had to thank Ethan Rayne for his commando skills. It was time like these they came in real handy.

He turned the wooden placard hanging from the door over to read, ‘Do not disturb’. The innkeeper was under the impression Xander and his ‘girlfriend’ were staying in the room, and the sign would keep the man from becoming suspicious of Buffy and Spike.

Xander checked his watch. He had less than a hour to find the house and get back to the pasture before Willow’s spell zapped him back to Sunnydale.

“Better get going.” He mumbled to himself. He took the stairs two at a time, nearly washing out on the last one.

The interior of the inn was almost cave-like in comparison to the brightness of the outside world, which is why Xander had to shield his eyes as he came out the door. Good thing he had. If not, then Travers would have recognized him as he sped by in his car.

Xander didn’t panic, though the need to run screaming down the center of town like a little girl was rallying hard for attention. If something had happened back in Sunnydale, Willow would have brought him back already. So why was Travers here? And would he be staying? Only way to get the answers to those questions was to follow the car, and see what he could discover. The narrow streets of Petershead did not allow the sedan, in which Travers was riding, to get very far too fast. Xander was able to tail him without worry, without being seen.

Travers’ car stopped at the gate, and the man himself stepped out. Xander’s eyes narrowed, trying to determine what exactly Travers was doing. He didn’t have to wait long as Travers raised his hand and waved it in front of the gate. If Xander didn’t have any experience in the supernatural, he wouldn’t have noticed it. There was not only a wall of energy around the house, but the gate was also enchanted.

“Damn.” He muttered. They were going to have to pray Willow’s theory was correct, and Bitty had the power to open gates through magical cloaks. If not, they were going to have to get the talisman from Travers. For some reason, Xander didn’t think Travers would survive that fight. More’s the pity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joanna stiffened as she heard the deep-throated voice of Quentin Travers. She looked with mounting concern at the dozing baby. There’d been no sign of the mysterious woman since her appearance the day before. Joanna desperately wanted to speak to her, ask her if she knew when “Catherine’s” parents would be coming for her. The call had come thirty minutes earlier informing her of the surprise visit. Hunger had driven “Catherine” to take the bottle, and she was gratefully asleep. If this inspection, and that’s what it was, could be conducted quickly, then Mr. Travers would never know what his presence did to the young child.

Joanna opened the door, preventing Quentin from barging in and waking the baby.

“Joanna, were you going somewhere?” Travers questioned her.

“No. I heard you in the hallway, sir. The baby just fell asleep, and I didn’t want to awaken her.” She told him, no waver in her voice. He had left “Catherine” in her care, and she would decide who saw her when.

Quentin smirked, recognizing the no-nonsense tone in the nanny’s voice. “That’s a shame. I need to draw some blood from her, and I doubt she’ll sleep through a needle puncture.”

Joanna couldn’t hide her horror. “What? Why?”

“Your job is not to know why. It is to do. And do be quick about it. I must return to England soon.” Quentin crossed the threshold into the room. His presence woke Bitty from a sound sleep. She shrieked in terror, and Joanna rushed to calm her.

“She’s just a child. Why would you want to hurt her?” Joanna asked incredulously.

“Silly woman. You have no idea what she is, what she can sustain. No idea. I’ll give you a choice.” He said jovially. “You can extract her blood, and know she’s safe. Or you can watch Mr. Timmons do it. I don’t think he’ll be as concerned for her as you will be.”

Joanna had no choice at all, and she knew it. There’d never been a doubt in Travers mind that she would. Timmons was a lackey, a brute at best, and would have harmed the baby, and that was something neither wanted.

Joanna sighed heavily and walked over to the crib, where “Catherine” was whimpering. “I’m sorry, sweetling.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hallie stood off to the side, unseen by mortal eyes. As the needled pierced the baby’s skin, she was there, caressing Bitty’s downy curls. “Don’t worry, Bitty. Your Mommy and Daddy will be here tomorrow. It’ll all be over soon.”

While her smile was comforting, inside, Hallie was fuming. Travers deserved to die for the pain he’d caused Bitty. Her hands were tied as far as the punishment. Bitty had to wish it, and the sweet child knew nothing of revenge.

“See, that wasn’t too difficult.” Quentin remarked, plucking the vile of blood from Joanna’s trembling hands. “Let me have that, m’dear. We wouldn’t want you to drop it.”

Timmons appeared at Travers’ side. In his hands, he had a container to transport the blood. Joanna could see the cold wafting out of it.

Travers sighed, a grin on his face. “Good day, Joanna.” He paused and ran a withered finger across Bitty’s cheek. “Goodbye, Catherine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a race to see who would teleport home first, with Hallie beating Xander by a half-second. But Xander beat Hallie to the punch because of the justice demon’s habit of preening in front of one blonde vampire.

“Travers is in Scotland. He was at the house.” Xander rushed out.

“What? How? Did he see you?” The questions rang out, and Xander’s head jerked from side to side to catch them.

“Guys, he can’t answer you if you don’t let him speak.” Tara reminded them.

“Thanks, Tara.” Xander turned to Buffy and Spike. “I couldn’t see inside the house, but Travers had to use a thingiemajig to get inside the gates.”

“Could it have been an amulet?” Giles questioned.

“That’s what I said. But I couldn’t really see it. I was hiding across the street.” Xander shrugged.

Buffy smiled tightly, handing the glass she’d been holding to Spike. “You did what you could. Thank you.”

“There’s more.” Hallie piped in. She crossed the room to stand in front of Spike and Buffy. “Travers took blood from the baby.”

“Spike!” Willow cried out.

Buffy’s eyes widened at the sight of her husband, his hand dripping blood onto the carpet, his eyes yellowed, and his face shifted into game face.

“Jesus, Spike.” Buffy gasped, cupping his hands in hers. “Remember the house rule? We only break things that are not ours.”

“Bastard touched my girl, Buffy.” He whimpered.

“I know. I wish that would have been his head, too.” Buffy touched her head to Spike’s, ignoring everyone else.

Hallie coughed, delicately to get their attention. “You should know he’s gone. He left for London with the blood. I overheard him speaking…”

“Eavesdropped.” Anya corrected.

Hallie ignored the sarcasm and continued with her report. “He’s planning on taking Dawn’s blood too.

“How do you know that?” Anya countered.

“I heard him talking to his…henchman. He was gloating about having the Key and the Prophecy child’s blood.”

“He wants to show the Council what a mixture of their blood will do. He’s insane.” Giles concluded. “There’s nothing in Jayme’s journal to suggest their blood can be used for anything.”

Buffy and Spike shared a look, the sense of déjà vu making them both queasy. “This news changes nothing, except making me want to hurt Quentin, really, really bad.” Buffy said. “Dawn and Bitty are safe, that’s all that matters. Until Travers is able to get Dawn’s blood, he can’t discover what we know to be true.”

“And that gives us time to get Bitty away from him.” Spike added. Tara hovered at his side, attempting to tend to his wounds.

“How many men are in the house?” Willow asked.

“Six. Four men are situated on the second floor. That’s where the nursery is. The other two are positioned on the ground floor at the front and back of the house.” Halllie replied. “There is also Joanna, the nanny, but she’ll help you.”

Buffy arched her brow. “Oh, really?”

“Believe me, Buffy. She only wants to help return your daughter to you.”

“So, we’re up against six humans.” Spike commented. Buffy heard the hesitation in his voice.

“Will that be a problem, Spike?” Giles questioned. Buffy knew the answer to the question, but some battles Spike was going to have to handle on his own.

All eyes were on him, but he didn’t flinch under their combined gawking. “Harming or killing humans, Rupert? That’s the real stitch, isn’t it? I can hold back and not kill ‘em, but if it comes down to me and mine, it won’t end well for them.”

Buffy’s gaze shifted between the two men in her life. Would she allow Spike to kill in order to save Bitty? In a heartbeat. Would she allow him to exact revenge in Bitty’s name? No. Their souls, and yes, she believed Spike had a soul, were too important to waste on Travers or Warren.

“Fine.” Giles finally stated. “Xander, Hallie, we’ll need a description of the house, points of entry…” Giles’ voice faded out as he drew the others into command central aka the dining room.

Buffy encircled Spike tightly within her grasp. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, taking comfort in his strength.

“You okay, luv?” Spike whispered into her hair. “I know what Travers did upset you more than you let on.”

Buffy sniffed, trying to keep the tears inside. “I…I hurt because she hurts. I feel so helpless, so incompetent.”

Spike shook his head, tsking in her ear. “That’s utter rubbish, Buffy. You’re doing all you can to get to her. I’m bloody proud of you. You’re the strongest woman I know.”

Buffy’s chuckle was muffled by his shirt. “I’m only strong because of you. You, Dawn, Giles, Tara, Willow, even Xander. You’ve kept me sane. I know it’s as hard if not harder for you.” She looked up then, hazel eyes swimming in a pool of tears.

Spike shrugged. “When you died, there was no hope, and I survived because of the Bit. It hurts and it’s painful to not have Bitty with us, but I know she will be soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yvonne squinted from her position in the window as Travers’ car pulled into the courtyard. Even from this distance, she would have recognized the bent and gait of the elderly man exiting the car.

“He returns.” She said, more to herself, than to inform the man seated on the other side of her desk.

“Do we have any idea where he’s been?” Edgar asked. Since his call to Reginald, he’d barely been able to contain his joy. His son was alive. Mute, but alive. Olivia’s deliverance of that news had not dampened Edgar’s happiness. It only steeled his desire to see Quentin Travers rot in hell for all eternity.

Yvonne stepped away from the window, but did not sit. She was too agitated, too wired to sit down.

“My contact at the airport says Scotland, but the destination could have been changed in flight.”

Edgar shook his head. “I doubt it. We spoke to Rupert Giles today. He says the Prophecy child is in Scotland.” Edgar steeped his fingers before him. “Travers went to visit her. The timing is too coincidental.”

“I wish our operative was able to ascertain just what he has planned for the meeting, but so far, he’s revealed nothing of importance.”

Yvonne perched on the edge of her desk. “These are very difficult times, Edgar. The fate of the Council hangs in the balance. We will either come out of the Executive meeting stronger as a group or in the midst of war.”

“One we,” Edgar emphasized, “can’t afford to lose.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Travers shook his head at the sentimental droll written by Jayme.

“Fool. You were doing your job. She was a rogue. Meant to be put down.” Travers threw the book on the coffee table without so much as a backward glance. He strolled to the window, his hands firmly clenched behind his back.

“The Council has been around for centuries. Each member sworn to protect the Slayer line and ensure their success in the battle against evil. No one Slayer is more important that the overall fight, and yet, this man thought she was. It’s pathetic really. Too much emotion spent on one girl.”

Ms. Henly nodded in agreement, though the words and the callousness, with which they were voiced, pained her. “Yes, Mr. Travers.” She didn’t understand what the passage had to do with the responses she’d brought in to him, but she knew better than to voice a question, especially when her boss was in a foul mood as this.

“Mr. Jayme was soft. He was weak. His actions would bring about his death, if he were alive. He betrayed his oath to the Council. He chose to work against us. His actions could have brought about the destruction of all we hold dear, yet all anyone can consider is Buffy Summers.”

The Slayer. She was almost as revered around the halls of the Council, as Travers was feared. She’d died twice, and still returned from the dead to fight the good fight. She’d taken up with not one, but two vampires. Yes, Buffy Summers was an enigma, but a respected enigma.

Quentin sighed. It was truly defeating. He had a vision of what the Council could be, and there, standing in his way were Buffy, Spike, and Giles. Only two more days, he thought giddily. Two more days, and they will be inconsequential. Two more days, and he’d be invincible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander crept down the stairs, intent on settling things with Buffy before she left. He had avoided this conversation for days, wanting to allow her time to recover and… Forget her child? Not likely Harris. Whatever he hoped, it was now all for naught. He couldn’t let her go without telling her how he felt, and letting her know the decision he’d made.

Why had the never thought to use the basement before for training? Well, they were forced too now. It was the only place it seemed to move about freely without being observed.

He stopped on the bottom stair.

“Can I come down?”

“It’s a free country.” She quipped, smiling tightly at him. She was more than grateful for what he’d done for them, but Buffy still found it difficult to ease back into their former relationship.

Xander peered over her shoulder and sighed. The journal. He had perfect timing.

“Not exactly light reading, Buffy.” Xander uttered quietly.

“No, it isn’t. But it’s truth.” She said, closing the book. “Jayme knew he was to blame for Martine and Henri’s deaths and he took responsibility for it. He didn’t hide his shame.”

“Ouch. Guess I deserved that.”

Buffy’s eyes widened and she quickly jumped up off the step to pace the narrow confines of the basement.

“You have to know it isn’t easy for me, Xander.” Tears burned her hazel eyes, blurring her vision. “She’s gone. Our daughter is in danger because of you. I blame you, Xander.”

“I blame myself, Buffy. I can’t put it all on Travers. You know me.” He implored. Xander fisted his hands at his side. He wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her, but knew he’d end up in a cast if he did. “I was the perfect butt-monkey. I set myself up.” New, improved, retrospective Xander could admit what he’d always been, and not feel the funnies coming on.

“I turned my back on my friends, on my family. I drank too much. I felt sorry for myself. I had a big, honking sign that said ‘use me’ on my ass.”

A small smile crept onto Buffy’s face, unbidden, of course, which brought a smile to Xander’s face. Self-deprecation had always been a big hit with the ladies, but especially with Buffy, who had her own problems with self-esteem and self-worth. He had gotten her to smile, but the battle was far from won, if ever.

Silence descended on the room, the only sound the slight clunk of Xander’s boots as he hopped onto the washing machine.

“I never meant to hurt Bitty.”

Buffy looked up from her perusal of her toes. It was the first time in many weeks she’d heard her daughter’s name uttered from Xander’s mouth. “I know, but she was hurt. I was hurt. Tara and Dawn were hurt. Spike was hurt.”

Xander rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension of the last week twisting his muscles into knots. “I know none of this will make up for what has passed, Buffy. When you bring Bitty home…If you want me to leave, to leave Sunnydale, I will.”

Life without Xander. Buffy was stunned by the implications. Would it do any good?

Rubbing her palm against her eye, Buffy snorted. “Running away won’t change what’s happened. Won’t change anything at all.”

She hugged the pages to her bosom, staring at Xander with mixed emotions. She wanted to forgive him. She really did. It took up too much space in her heart to be angry with him. She didn’t hate him, but she was disappointed. But siblings did that all the time, didn’t they?

“I told you a couple of months ago that you would need to earn forgiveness from Anya one day at a time. The same goes for me. So let’s just take it one day at a time, Xan. I can’t tell you what I’ll feel tomorrow or the next day or the next month. All I can focus on right now is Bitty.”

At Xander’s nod, she moved past him and made her way up the stairs. She paused near the door, turning her head. Xander couldn’t see her face as it was shadowed by the darkness of the stairs.

”Xander?”

“Yeah.” He shifted his head to give her his full attention.

“This is day one.” She said, opening the door and stepping into the light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I read on the internet it’s cold this time of year in Scotland.” Dawn held the pink checkered blanket in her hands, clutching it tightly. “She’ll need this.”

Spike laid his hand over Dawn’s. “Thanks, Bit. I’ll let her know her Aunt Dawn sent it for her.”

Dawn’s face scrunched up as she held back tears. “I’ve been trying to concentrate on her so we can talk, but I can’t get anything. I don’t hear anything.”

Spike pulled Dawn towards the bed, and gently urged her to sit. “I was so jealous of you for awhile there.” He admitted. Disbelief clouded the blue eyes staring at him intently.

“You got to talk to her. Feel her. Buffy had Bitty inside of her belly, growing everyday. And I was the only one who couldn’t feel her.” He glanced at their fingers entwined, and smiled. “But then I’d look at you or Buffy, and I could feel her presence, her spirit in you.”

Buffy leaned against the wall, not wanting to disturb them, but unable to leave. Was it any wonder that she loved him? And how had she lied to herself for so long?

“Spike…Dawn…Giles is ready.” She said as she retraced her steps up the stairs.

“We’re coming.” Dawn replied, wiping furiously at her eyes.

Spike folded the blanket, tucking it between his shirts. “Ready, Bit?”

“I’m ready.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dewey slid lower in his seat till only his eyes were visible above the steering wheel. He counted off the individuals filing out of the house. Everyone was accounted for. The only person staying behind was Xander’s ex and the witch’s girlfriend.

“I still say there’s something suspicious about them traveling during the day.”

Shackleford ignored him as he had the night previous. “They have their reasons. As long as they board that plane, we don’t care. Mr. Travers has things covered on his end if they should arrive in London at some later time. All you need to do is make sure they board that plane. Do you have your ticket?”

Dewey waved the ticket in Shackleford’s face. “I’ve got it.”

Shackleford wouldn’t admit it, but Dewey had a point. Why were they traveling during the day when there was a possibility of the vampire spontaneously combusting once they landed? Plane rosters had been checked and double checked, and there were no other reservations made for Buffy and Spike Develin or for Elizabeth and William Summers. But Shackleford hadn’t survived this long without paying attention to his senses. They were definitely up to something. Keeping Dewey in their sights, on their tail, would allow Shackleford to drift back and take up surveillance from a wider vantage point.

The SUV pulled out of the drive, and headed down the street for the airport. Dewey waited until they’d gone through two stop signs before heading after them. In a small city like Sunnydale, traffic wasn’t a problem.

Inside the Jeep, Spike shifted into game face. His superior vision allowed him to see the car carrying Travers’ men.

“We’ve got company.” Spike announced. “They are the third car behind us. It’s the same car that was parked across the street.”

Giles looked in the rearview mirror, slowing down to allow the men to keep the Jeep in their sight. “Now, that we have our captive audience. We can proceed with our plans. Buffy and Spike are going to meet us inside the old cargo hanger behind the terminal. We’ll teleport them from there. Dawn, Willow, and myself will then return to the house for stage two of the plan.”

They’d discussed the plan ad nauseum, but no one complained about Giles’ need to go over it again.

“Stage two. Dawn as bait.” Dawn said gaily.

“Dawn…” Buffy said exasperated. “I don’t want you taking this lightly. These men are dangerous.”

Dawn huffed in her seat, throwing an exasperated sigh of her own in Buffy’s direction. “I’m not taking this lightly. I know they are dangerous. I also know I’m the only one who can do this. It’s my blood they want. It’s me they have to take to get it.”

Buffy’s emotions were too close to the surface to let Dawn’s words roll of her back like water off a duck. She turned away before anyone saw her tears. Dawn saw them, as did Spike.

“I never asked you to act as bait. I’ve always protected you.” Buffy said softly.

“I’m old enough to make my own decisions Buffy. I love Bitty. I would have done it even if you hadn’t asked.” Dawn scooted closer to Buffy, wrapping her arm around Buffy’s and laying her head on Buffy’s shoulders, the way they did when they were younger.

Spike shook off the tears and stared straight ahead. Knowing if he looked at them, he’d bawl too. Instead, he reached across and clasped his hand on theirs.

Giles cleared his throat, touched by the scene in the back. “Well…as I was saying, stage two will commence with Dawn’s subsequent abduction and our capturing of Travers’ thugs. If all goes according to plan, Willow and I will meet up with you in London on Wednesday.”

Willow turned in her seat. “Buffy, are you sure you want to confront Travers? I can teleport you back to Sunnydale.”

Buffy sat up, wiping her cheeks of moisture. “Bitty’s too young for interdimensional travel. We don’t know what the spell will do to her. We can’t risk it.”

“Just wanted to be sure. Here, I made it for Bitty.”

Buffy looked at the tiny bracelet and smiled. “Oh, her first bracelet. How cute.”

Willow giggled. “It’s not just any bracelet. It’s a protection bracelet. Sorta like the amulet Dawn has on. It’ll keep her safe if you run into any danger.” Which is a given, given who they were. Willow reflected.

“Thanks, Red.” Spike said, pocketing the bracelet.

“We’re here.” Giles announced, pulling into the underground parking. “Everyone ready?”

Buffy’s eyes shut briefly.

We’re coming, Bitty. Mommy and Daddy are coming.

“Let’s do this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shackleford slammed the phone down in its cradle, cracking the phone base. He should have snapped the neck of the Slayer when he had the chance. Now, she and her demon husband were missing. There’d been no sign of them once their plane had arrived in New Orleans. Where were they?

Shackleford angrily snatched up the phone again, dreading the ass-chewing he was about to receive from Quentin.

“Yes, this is Travers.”

“They are missing.” Shackleford said without hesitation. “My people can’t find a trace of them in Sunnydale or New Orleans.”

There was silence, then laughter. It was the latter, which scared Shackleford. He was not personally invested in Travers’ mental welfare, but even he knew a semi-sane boss was better than an insane one. He had visions of Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now.

“Sir, are you alright?” Shackleford tried for concern. He missed by a mile.

“Yes, I’m quite alright Mr. Shackleford. I’m sorry for my inappropriate humor. It’s the irony of the situation. They have gone through all the trouble of implementing this subterfuge, only to have it be fruitless.” Quentin chuckled again.

“What would you like for me to do?” Shackleford interrupted.

A long, drawn out sigh signaled Travers’ vexation. “Take the girl. Take the blood. Return to London. It’s all very simple. You don’t require a diagram do you?”

Shackleford bristled at the tone, but did nothing more than grit his teeth. “No, sir. I don’t. I’ll see you in London in a two days.”

Quentin hung the phone up, knowing implicitly that his orders would be obeyed. Shackleford was not a fool. There were too many resources available to Quentin. He could make Mr. Shackleford disappear in a blood red haze or in huge pieces. It would not matter. While he was loath to admit he’d underestimated Buffy and Spike, he had to admire their tenacity. He wondered how long it would be before he was visited by the twosome. He found himself excited at the prospect of destroying Buffy once and for all. Maybe, he’d plan something special for them. Quentin leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers in front of him. He had an active imagination. He was sure he could come up with something devastated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Outsmarted by a bunch of amateurs. Shackleford raged. Did they think this was a joke? Did they think he was a fool? They must have because they mocked him at every turn. If he was honest with himself, he would admit Dewey had been right all along. But he wasn’t the type to admit wrong, so he had dismissed Dewey’s warning.

Dewey, on the other hand, knew he was courting death by gloating, but he couldn’t help it. There was egg on Shackleford’s face.

“What now?” Dewey drawled. “What does Mr. Travers want us to do to rectify this situation?”

Shackleford gripped the knife tightly and flung the blade across the room. Dewey didn’t flinch, and the blade buried itself in the wall behind him. Message sent and delivered.

“He wants us to grab the girl, and meet him in London by Wednesday.”

“That doesn’t give us much time.” Dewey commented, then wished he hadn’t when Shackleford flew across the room and pinned him up against the wall. Dewey’s eyes bulged as the forearm across his throat cut off his air. He clawed ineffectively at the limb, but Shackleford wouldn’t let up.

“Do I have your attention?”

Dewey nodded with difficulty. “Good. Now, listen up. This isn’t a democracy. I’m the commander on this mission. You will follow my orders or I’ll skin your mother alive. I’ll take my time, draw it out, make her suffer. And you’ll watch from a chair, but you won’t be able to scream because I’ll have removed your tongue. We will get Dawn Summers tomorrow at school. We will take her. We will take her blood, and we will fly together to London. You won’t say another word or offer anymore of your advice. Do we understand each other?”

“Y…Yes.” Dewey gasped as Shackleford released him. Dewey fell to the floor, holding his hands to this throat.

Shackleford pulled his knife out of the wall, checking the blade to see if it’d chipped. He blew on the tip, sprinkling bits of plaster on Dewey’s heaving back.

Satisfied for the moment, he stepped around him, and headed for the shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her sister was the Slayer. Her brother-in-law was a vampire. So why was Dawn, the Key, being asked to write on the feudal system of England? Gritting her teeth, Dawn tried to concentrate on the test booklet before her. It just seemed pretty silly to be focused on World History when she was about to be kidnapped.

She really should take the threat more seriously, but it was rather hard to do that when she knew there was a small army outside the school watching her every move. The ring on her finger brought her further security. Willow and Tara had imbued the crystal in the center with the properties of a simple locator spell. All she had to do was rub it, and it activated. So where was the danger? She wondered. She really hoped they didn’t drug her. She wanted to get her licks in.

“Time’s up.” Mr. Sario announced. “Pens down.”

Dawn slapped her pen down on the desk, a little too hard, judging by the looks from her fellow students. By the time, Mr. Sario picked up her booklet; she was fairly bouncing in her seat.

“Excited about the summer, Ms. Summers?” He asked in passing, then seemed to arrest as he realized who she was. The girl who’s niece was kidnapped. “You could have made this up. I know your family is dealing with some pressing issues right now.”

Dawn plastered a smile on her face, trying to not to gag. Pressing issues, my ass. “Yes, but Buffy says life must go on, so here I am.”

He patted her on the shoulder and continued down the aisle. Dawn waited impatiently for him to count the booklets, place them just so on his desk, before he said the magic words. “Have a good summer, people. Use your brains.”

Hallelujah.

The praise was repeated by Dewey, who was stuck inside the janitorial closet. He eased the door open, peering down the corridor. As soon as the bell sounded, the doorways opened to loud chattering children. It was easy to spot Dawn Summers in the crowd. She was taller than most of the girls, and she was alone.

Dawn kept her head down, and her senses tuned sharply to her surroundings. She made the perfect target. She’d turned down Lisa’s offer of a free lunch at the mall. Most of the kids were heading that way, grateful for the end of another school year. As Dawn approached her locker, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She spun around, her eyes widening at the sight of the chloroform-laden cloth. She struck out, hitting the older man in the shins. She continued kicking till her eyes rolled back and she slumped into the waiting arms of Dewey.

“Hurry up, man. Do you want us to get caught?”

Dewey hefted the lanky girl into his arms, and hid his smile in her hair. If anyone deserved to be caught and thrown into a cell, it was Shackleford.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tara gasped as the crystal by her side, turned green.

“They’ve got her.” She told Willow. She didn’t like this plan, even though, she knew it was the only way to ensure Buffy, Spike, and Bitty’s safety. Dawn was like a little sister to her, and Tara got queasy just thinking of her in the hands of Travers’ men.

“She’ll be alright, baby. Don’t worry.” Willow assured her. “Giles, they’ve got Dawn. Do you see them?”

Giles and Anya peered out their respective windows. It was difficult to get a clear look with the mass of kids spilling out of the place.

“I see them.” Anya said excitedly. “North corner. They’re coming near you, Xander.”

Xander and Clem ducked down in the seat as Dewey and Shackleford passed by. Of course, there was no need for that. Clem had offered his Bug as a stakeout vehicle, since Dewey knew Xander’s car. Clem peeked in his rearview mirror, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as he watched Dewey dump Dawn into the backseat.

“He’d better not hurt her.” Clem growled.

Xander agreed, even though, the sound of Clem growling had him straining in his seat to see if the demon had burst a blood vessel doing it.

“Follow them, but don’t let them see you.” Giles warned them, as the three cars pulled out behind the unsuspecting duo.

TBC.....

Darkness faded from the corners of his conscience as Dewey awakened. His body bore the evidence of a battle, but he wasn’t sure if he’d won or loss. He winced in pain as he tried to move. His face, his nose especially, throbbed. Fuck, now he remembered.

Dawn Summers. Splintered wood. Xander Harris.

“Fuck.” He moaned, rolling his head back.

“Look who’s finally awake.” A male voice sneered. It wasn’t just any male’s voice. That was Xander’s. Fuck, indeed.

There was no point in denying the obvious, so Dewey opened his eyes cautiously. Angry glares greeted him, and he wished for the millionth time, he’d ignored Shackleford’s summons.

Dewey assessed his surroundings. They were still at the hotel, which was part good, but Shackleford was alive, which was part bad.

“You haven’t killed me or turned me over to the police. What can I do for you?” Dewey would rather shoot straight from the hip than engage in the intrigue and backdoor dealing that characterized his dealings with Shackleford and Travers.

“What do you know of Travers’ plans for the baby?” Giles could appreciate Dewey’s decision to be forthright. Time was short and cutting through the bullshit would get them that much closer to London and the Council.

“Nothing. They didn’t feel the need to share that information with me.” Truth was, Dewey hadn’t wanted to know. Killing adults was one thing. Harming children was another thing entirely. He’d washed his hands of the situation as soon as his feet touched the ground in Paris.

“How can you be sure he’s not lying, Giles?” Xander queried, his voice coming from the other side of the room. He stepped forward, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He may have appeared relaxed, but his eyes showed the truth. He was barely holding on to his anger.

“I’m telling you the truth. I have no reason to lie.” Dewey exclaimed. He held up his ironclad wrists as proof of his statement.

“You’re kidding, right?” Xander commented. “Lying is the same as breathing to you.”

“Okay, Xander, I get it. You’re upset with me, but give it a rest. You aren’t the first person to be duped, and I doubt you’ll be the last. Grow a pair and move on.” Dewey sighed and turned to Giles. “Do you want the info I’ve got or not?”

Giles tilted his head in Shackleford’s direction. “No. I think your partner probably has more information to offer. What do you have to say, Mr. Shackleford?” Giles asked, quietly.

Shackleford winced. He’d hoped to continue his ruse and then make his attempt to escape. He was losing his touch. He should have been able to fool these civilians.

Giles studied Shackleford, watching as the man’s eyes slowly opened. There was an aura about him, which Giles recognized. It was one of a complete and total lack of fear. Threats wouldn’t work against him. Neither would bribery. No, this was the type of man who only responded to brute strength. As much as Giles wanted to show him exactly what it meant to deal with the Ripper, there wasn’t time to indulge the darker recesses of his soul.

Giles leaned against the wall, waiting for his answer.

“What are you looking at?” Shackleford spat.

“A mindless thug, for all intensive purposes.” Giles moved closer, his stance relaxed and unhurried. “Besides the blood ritual, what else is Travers’ planning?”

Giles knelt, putting himself at the same level as Shackleford. “You owe him nothing. He would betray you in a heartbeat. Is that the type of man you want to give your allegiance to?”

Shackleford laughed mirthlessly. He laughed until tears fell from his eyes.

Giles sighed as he stood up. “Willow.”

Willow stepped forward and blew a pinkish substance in Shackleford’s face. His eyes widened, and he jerked his head to the side to avoid the cloud.

Willow waved her hand over Shackleford, activating the “Speak no lies” spell.

“Bitch!”

Willow flicked her wrist again and sealed Shackleford’s mouth ala The Matrix.

Xander chuckled. “Uh… defeating the purpose of the spell, Will.”

Willow shrugged. “We need to give it a few minutes, anyway. Until then, I see no reason to listen to his potty mouth.” She opened her laptop, drumming her fingers as it powered up.

“That was impressive.” Dewey admitted, amused in spite of everything. He’d wished for a muzzle for Shackleford on so many occasions, and now his dream was coming true.

Several sets of eyes glared back at him.

“It was a compliment.” He grumbled under his breath, thumping his head against the bureau.

Dawn shook her head in disgust. “And you’re telling Xander to grow up?” She huffed. “Is he ready to talk?” Dawn asked impatiently.

Willow looked over her shoulder casually. “Yeah, the spell doesn’t take more than a few minutes to activate.”

Giles stepped forward, leering over the restrained man. “What were your plans once you obtained Dawn’s blood?”

Although, the spell was very powerful, Shackleford still attempted to resist. Blood seeped from the side of his mouth as he bit down on his tongue.

“What were your plans?” Giles demanded, entirely unconcerned by the rivulet of crimson trailing across the stubble of Shackleford’s cheek.

“Kill Dewey. Deliver the blood to Travers in London.”

“Bastard!” Dewey lunged for his former partner, his bound hands determined to add to the blood trickling down Shackleford’s throat. Clem and Xander restrained him, and dragged him back to the other side of the room. “Should have slit your throat when I had my chance.”

Shackleford grinned broadly, blood staining his teeth. Anya stepped forward and backslapped him across the face. “Pay attention. We’re on a schedule. Don’t make us turn you into a cause for Amnesty International.”

Shackleford growled at Anya, who pivoted on her heel and returned to Giles’ side.

“I’m not concerned about your associate. Only about the child. What does Travers have planned for her?” Giles suspected there was more. From what he’d observed, Shackleford was Travers’ right hand man. Birds of a feather, it would seem. There was no doubt in Giles’ mind that Travers would want to gloat, and Shackleford was as ruthless and uncaring as Travers. He would have shared his victory with this man.

Shackleford spat blood from his mouth. “He’s going to bleed her. Turn her blood into a weapon against whoever he doesn’t like.”

If one took the prophecy at face value, and obviously Travers had, then Bitty and her blood could be used in that manner. Conjure a spell or douse an individual with it, and in an instant you’d turn an enemy into a friend. Interesting theory, but not a given.

“Is that all, Mr. Shackleford? I find that strange. A man of your expertise, and all Quentin had you doing was kidnapping Dawn.” Giles pulled a kerchief out of his pocket, cleaning his glasses as he paced. “The baby was his number one priority for months, and he leaves her protection to others while you stay here.”

The calm, but probing inquiry mesmerized the room. No one had questioned Shackleford’s continued presence in Sunnydale, assuming Travers placed him here because Buffy and Spike were the greater threat, that Dawn was the final piece in Travers’ plan. Obviously, they’d underestimated Travers again.

“Why is Travers so confident? What has he done?” With each word, the speed of Giles’ fingers as they wiped the lenses became faster, harder to the point that Anya was worried he’d snap the glasses in two.

“Giles…” Anya’s hand on his elbow stilled his movements. She glanced pointedly at his hands, and Giles grimaced. He mouthed a thank you, and slid the abused optics on his nose.

“What has he done?” Giles demanded.

Everyone waited on pins and needles to hear what Shackleford had to say.

“Created a spell to transport the child away from danger.” Shackleford told him matter of fact.

That bit of news got everyone’s attention, including Dewey’s. In the blink of an eye, Giles had hauled Shackleford off the floor and slammed him into the mirror.

“What spell?” In a move similar to the one Shackleford used on Dewey the night before, Giles pressed his arm into Shackleford’s windpipe. “What spell?”

“Do… Don’t,” Shackleford gasped. “Don’t know. Only had to say the words and it… it would work.”

Giles released his grip on Shackleford, allowing the man to flop over, coughing.

“What were the words?” Giles demanded.

Shackleford repeated the words Travers had instructed him to memorize.

“That’s a teleportation spell.” Anya informed them. “It’s an old transportation spell used back in the early 1700s. But it was used to move cattle, not people.”

“Cattle?” Clem ventured.

“Yes, during famines people used the spell to bring cattle to the spell caster. It was very popular.” She enlightened them. “All the caster needs to do is have something that connects the caster to the thing they want. So we’ll need to make sure Travers has nothing of Bitty’s.”

“So what you’re saying”, Xander spoke slowly, trying to determine things for himself, “is that in order for the spell to work, Travers needs to have something of Bitty’s. What? Like her blanket or pacifier?

Anya was already shaking her head. “No, it has to be very specific, very personal. Like hair.”

“Or blood.” Giles finished ominously.

“Oh.” Xander said, his statement pretty much summing up what everyone was feeling.

“If that’s the case, then Travers must be planning on giving him some of Bitty’s blood. That’s the only thing that makes any sense.” Dawn’s calm response surprised Giles. Her fear was clearly apparent in her eyes, yet the teen showed no other signs.

“Okay, just be clear.” Xander interrupted again. “Travers can do the spell. Shackleford can’t. Is there anything we can do to help Buffy and Spike?”

A light bulb went off in Tara’s head, something she should have remembered. “The bracelet…the bracelet we gave Buffy had a protection ward. It should work, at least for a little while. Willow?”

Willow’s mood brightened. Leave it to Tara to calm her frazzled nerves. “It should. I can’t be certain. I’ll need to do some research on the spell to be sure. But we might have caught a break.”

“Let’s hope Buffy remembers they have it.” Anya blurted out.

Willow rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t Anya for once keep her opinions to herself?

“I’m sure she did.” Tara smiled as she stroked Dawn’s hair.

Tara was right. Willow knew it, and besides, they were at an advantage here. They knew about the spell. They could work to block it. Willow cleared her throat. “When were you scheduled to leave?” She directed her query to Dewey.

Dewey was tired, and the gig was up. They’d been outsmarted, outwitted, and overpowered by a family of Cajuns, an alligator, a pair of witches, a vampire, and… Fuck it. Personally, his ego was battered and bruised. He’d rather take his chances with an American court, especially if it meant getting the fuck away from Shackleford and Travers. They were going to kill him, and he’d helped to complete the mission. Fuckers. They deserved to rot in hell together.

“Check the closet. Shackleford put our plane tickets in his duffle.”

“You mean his… his ticket.” Xander offered, tipping his head in Shackleford’s direction.

“Touché.” Dewey countered. Bastard.

Tara rifled through the bag, finally finding the ticket in an inside pocket. “This says…he’s scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon for LA. Then, he has a connecting flight directly to London.”

Tara handed the ticket over to Giles, who casually perused it. His mind was on the spell and Buffy and the Council. “Travers isn’t expecting him until after”, he emphasized, “the meeting.”

He waited while the rest of the Scoobies realized exactly what he was saying.

“After?” Willow squeaked. “But that doesn’t make any sense. I thought the whole purpose of taking the blood was to perform the ritual.”

Giles nodded. He was as confused as the others, but there was something niggling at the back of his mind, something trying to break through his confusion to alert him to the truth.

“Please tell me you have a clue, Giles?” Dawn asked.

“I wish I could.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tick tock. Tick tock. The second hand undertook its circuitous journey, marking off the seconds, the minutes, the hours in his life. Each track taking him closer and closer to his appointed hour, to Catherine’s appointed hour. It was unfortunate he’d have to deceive his loyal followers, but he had underestimated the power of the Key’s blood. While Catherine’s blood was powerful, its full potential could not be accessed without the Key. So, he’d have to resort to trickery, to parlor tricks to sway them to his way of thinking. It wasn’t his first deception nor would it be his last. As long as they gave him totally autonomy, he’d conjure up the devil himself.

Along those lines, there was the impending problem of Buffy Summers and William the Bloody. Unlike Shackleford, Quentin was not naïve. He knew he only had a small window of reprieve before two brassed blondes knocked down the doors of the Council. Unfortunately, they would arrive in the middle of his meeting. He didn’t need the distraction or the revelations.

Quentin thumbed through the ever-growing file on Buffy Summers. The woman lived to make his life miserable. He was certain of that. There was no other explanation for her repeated interference with his plans.

Oh, well, one must do what one must do.

“Mr. Coulter, I need you to dispatch a team to Heathrow. No need to rush. Check the planes scheduled to arrive from Los Angeles or New Orleans. There will be a couple, blonde, early to mid-twenties. They may or may not be traveling under the names Summers or Develin. Contact me immediately if you find them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Travers was contemplative as he laid the receiver back on the base. He hated to leave anything to chance, but that was all he could do about Buffy and Spike. Catherine, on the other hand, was well protected, not only by his men, but also by the coven. Amazing what money could pry loose. The witches had been more than willing to deliver the necessary incantation for delivering Catherine from… and he had to snicker… from evil.

Reaching into his desk, Travers pulled out an envelope. Inside of it were several strands of ash blonde hair. He twirled the bound strands around his finger, surprisingly delighted by the softness.

“Catherine.” He murmured. He wasn’t the sentimental type, but he thought he might actually develop those feelings towards Catherine. After all, she was now his granddaughter and his greatest asset.

The phone buzzed.

“Yes, Ms. Henly.”

“There’s a Mr. Timmons on the line.”

Quentin’s brows arched till they nearly touched his hairline. Good lord, he thought, as he snatched up the phone. The panic that seized his heart set him to thinking he’d suffered a heart attack. Had he misjudged Giles? Was his former protégé more cunning than he gave him credit for?

“Umm… Thank you, Ms. Henly.”

Somehow, the phone was pressed tightly against his ear, his fingers curling and unfurling as Quentin struggled with his unwanted fear. “Timmons?” Was his voice shaking? Quentin coughed, clearing his throat of the imaginary something that had caught in it. “Mr. Timmons, what is it?”

“Joanna says the child is sick. She wants to call a doctor.”

Sick, but not gone. A negative response came swiftly to his lips, but never passed them. For the first time, Catherine became real to him, instead of a tiny hybrid with unlimited power.

“Allow her to make the call, but monitor it and the doctor’s visit. Whatever he suggests, short of taking Catherine out of the house, do it.”

“Yes, sir. Is that all?”

Was that all? Travers couldn’t help but wonder if Buffy and Spike’s disappearance had something to do with Catherine’s illness. It was too coincidental for his tastes. “Have there been any disturbances or weird occurrences at the house? In town?”

Timmons rolled his eyes, thankful his boss couldn’t see him. All this concern for a baby, a child who wasn’t even his. It was ridiculous, but there were harder ways to make a couple of thousand dosh per day.

“I would have called Mr. Travers. There’s been nothing amiss, just the kid crying and yelping.” He offered, somewhat offended.

Travers ground his teeth. Idiot. Kid? Catherine was more than just a mere child. Explaining that fact to Timmons would be pointless. He was not hired to be the male Mary Poppins. He was hired to provide protection and nothing else.

“Very well, Mr. Timmons. I’ll leave you to your duties. I do expect a full report from the doctor on Catherine’s condition. If you would please arrange a teleconference with him, I’d appreciate it. Unfortunately, my journey to Scotland will be delayed until sometime Wednesday morning.”

Quentin was reflective as he laid the lock of Catherine’s hair on top of the box containing her blood. Buffy and Spike were running amok, and only god knew where they were. They left him no choice. He had to shield Catherine from them.

“I will be taking Catherine home to London when I return. Please make sure Joanna is prepared to leave.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What was that old American saying? Tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Well, that was an understatement. The air felt stale and oppressive to Edgar. Although, he was only recently aware of this organization, this meeting had been years in the making. Every Watcher within a day’s travel was here. Duties were neglected so decisions could be made. If the higher echelon of their group were killed, the next level would have to take over, until there were none left to fight Travers and the corruption of the Council.

“Gentlemen, ladies, if you could take your seats, please. We shan’t be long. As you are all aware, the Executive meeting is tomorrow. Through our operatives, we have discovered part of Mr. Travers’ plans.” Yvonne glanced briefly in Edgar’s direction before continuing her speech.

“He plans to mix the blood of the Key and the Prophecy child. It is our belief he plans to use the blood to control the demon population, control those forces in a battle against the ultimate evil, the First Evil. We cannot allow that to occur.”

The low murmur that followed Yvonne’s announcement grew until the entire room was abuzz with conversation. She allowed it, knowing it was a lot digest. It became necessary, though, to continue and she rapped lightly against the pitcher of water with her pen. The room calmed, but all eyes were riveted on Yvonne. She didn’t shift or sway under their gazes.

“You are all aware of the consequences of Travers’ actions. The balance would be disturbed. The last time the First struck It nearly succeeded in destroying the Powers’ champion. We have a tenuous truce at best. If the blood is as powerful as Travers suspects, we would have a powerful weapon, and a perfect excuse for the First to wage war against the human race.”

“Would that be so bad?” Asked Edmund’s assistant. “Our job is to defeat evil. This would be a powerful weapon. Wouldn’t it be in our best interest to work with Travers, instead of against him.”

Yvonne’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t offer an argument against what was said. The younger man had only voiced the opinion shared by many within their group. It was a silent minority, though.

“The First has acted before to restore the balance.” Yvonne began. “You were not with us at the time, but many of you were. It nearly drove the Powers’ champion to take his own life, thereby leaving our side without a much-needed and valuable warrior. If there were a way to defeat the First without starting a war destined to destroy all of us in the process, I would jump at it. Our job, still, is to prevent this from happening. There is the possibility we will not be able to defeat Travers. If that does occur, it will be up to you to carry on. I place the gauntlet before you. We are sworn to protect the world. I ask you now in the face of our most trying hour to pledge your allegiance once again. Will you continue the fight?”

Courageous talk, Edgar mused. He had tremendous respect for his peers. They were all willing to give up their lives to see the Council brought back to rights. And sadly, some of them would die in removing Travers from office. But Quentin hadn’t survived for over twenty years as Council head to roll over with a few well-spoken words. This is why Edgar had made secondary arrangements. Arrangements, which unfortunately, would mean his death.

When told of Reginald’s death, all he wanted was to join him in the ether. When told the price of his request, he’d readily agreed. His death to ensure that Quentin Travers never breathed another lungful of air was a cheap trade-off. However, there was the rub. Reginald was alive, and he needed Edgar to be there for him, to stand beside him as he struggled to recover from his injuries. Once again, Edgar would have to disappoint him.

“Are there any questions?” Yvonne asked, eyes roaming the many faces staring back at her. The opening of the door could have been interpreted as an omen. Yvonne’s face hardened. Her assistant’s countenance mirrored hers.

“What is it, Mr. Browne?” Concern edged its way into her voice. Was Travers and his cronies waiting outside in the lobby to arrest them, throw them into the bowels of the Council headquarter to live out their days bound by magic?

“Mr. Travers called. He’s cancelled the meeting for tomorrow. He begs your forgiveness and will contact you personally about rescheduling.” Browne fidgeted, waiting anxiously for Yvonne’s response.

As if the air had been released from a balloon, Yvonne plopped down onto the lush brocade of her seat, unconcerned about her lack of grace. She noticeably deflated. All her energies had been directed towards this one moment, towards this one day, and now, it was postponed indefinitely. It was enough to cause wrinkles to crop up on her forehead.

“Thank you, Mr. Browne. You can let Mr. Travers know I appreciate his call and look forward to speaking to him soon.”

No sooner had she spoke those words than a dozen or more beepers, cell phones, and text messengers sounded off, shrieking and dinging their presences. Bloody hell and bugger seemed to be the responses of the hour as the same message was repeated.

The expected showdown between one Quentin Travers and the incorruptible forces of the other side has been postponed until further notice. Thanks for your cooperation.

Edgar grinned in admiration for the devious bastard’s cunning. He was the puppeteer and they were his puppets. He controlled them, their actions, and could cut the strings at any time. They were not in control of the situation, but there was something he, Edgar Smythe-Bailey could do to put the control back where it belonged. It would mean touching a part of himself that he staunchly avoided acknowledging, but it was necessary. Travers’ destruction, to be accomplished, needed more than a simple blade slipped quietly between the third and fourth rib.

“Do you think Travers has discovered Buffy and Spike’s plans?” Olivia whispered conspiratorially.

Edgar scooted closer to her, his head bent near her ear. “Olivia, we don’t know their plans. Reginald wasn’t able to obtain any information from Mr. Giles. Has he been more forthcoming with you?”

Olivia shook her head. “No. Rupert was very tight-lipped about what they were going to do. He still hasn’t forgiven me for lying about Reginald.”

Edgar glanced quickly at Olivia’s face. She regretted her role in what had happened, but she was only doing what she felt was right. And sometimes, those actions hurt others. He knew what he had planned would hurt his son, but there was no other way.

“I believe this meeting is over.” Edgar told Olivia, pushing his chair back. The screech of his chair legs across the hardwood floor drew the attention of everyone in the room, and Edgar suddenly found himself the center of attention.

“Edgar, are you leaving?” Yvonne said, perplexed and concerned. He was still grieving for Reginald, and she was very afraid he would do something rash and foolish.

There was no point in confirming the obvious. “I need to do something. I can’t sit here and discuss this issue to death.” Edgar paused on that word, his mind flashing to a week ago and Reginald.

Yvonne strode quickly around the table, stopping in front of Edgar. Her voice was low, but the depth of her concern was obvious. “I understand you’re hurting, but don’t do anything that will jeopardize our work.” Part plea, part threat. Edgar got the message.

“You have my word, I won’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A chill raced down Anya’s spine that had nothing to do with being in a subterranean cave, and everything to do with her boyfriend boarding a plane and flying into the lion’s den. Anya recognized this as fear, and though, she and he had been in this situation many times in the past, this was the first time Giles meant more to her than a paycheck. He was her heart, her soul, if she possessed one. The rational part of her brain told her this was the right move. Heading to London, now, rather than waiting till the day of Travers’ meeting would give them the upper hand, the element of surprise. It would also give Buffy and Spike the additional support they’d need, in light of Shackleford’s new information. Well, her rationale could take a flying leap off a tall building. Her heart was worried, scared of the infinite possibilities for failure this move conjured up. But she voiced none of her concerns. How could she? Articulating her fears would force her to admit to Giles and Willow that she had doubts, and she didn’t want them to know she lacked faith.

“We are set. I’ve spoken to Elsmeth and given her the basic wording of the spell. She isn’t familiar with it, but she will research it while we are in route. In the meantime, our guests,” he said, sneering in the direction of the two shackled men, “should be quite comfortable until the danger to Buffy and Spike has passed.”

“Then what?” Xander piped in. “We’re not letting them go. Not after everything they’ve done.” Before anyone could accuse him of being narcissistic, he added. “Not talking about me. I’m talking about Anya and the Magic Box and Warren and all the other crap they had their hands in.”

“Nice imagery, Xander.” Dawn grumbled. “We’re not letting them go. Right?” She asked. There was no way she’d allow that. Her cold blue gaze fixated on the men, and she shook her head in disbelief.

“They are scum. They don’t deserve to get away with this.” She knew her voice was reaching that whiny, high-pitched level, but she didn’t care. She’d do something to make them pay. She didn’t know what, but she wouldn’t let them walk away scot free.”

For all their experiences, they were still young and impetuous. Giles reflected. His glimpse traveled from the tick in Xander’s cheek to Dawn’s tightly clenched fists.

“Do you think I’d allow them to go free after they hurt Buffy?” His look told them they were very mistaken. “They aren’t a priority. Bitty is. Travers is. Until Bitty’s home and Travers is defeated, those two can wait. And besides,” Giles smirked, “something tells me Warren will be more than happy to implicate them in his crimes.”

“Good ol’ Warren. His existence finally makes sense.” Xander remarked, eyeballing Dewey and Shackleford. “So how long should we wait before dropping these two off with the SunnyD police?”

Giles regarded the trussed up twosome, weighing the options. “Wait until we contact you. It shouldn’t be more than a day or two. By then, we should have the situation in London under control.”

“What are you going to do when you get there? Travers isn’t going to open the front doors of the Council and welcome you in for tea. And I doubt any of his people will too. You know they weren’t the only ones working for him.” Xander pointed out.

There were times when Xander could be quite perceptive. Willow thought proudly. Except those times were usually outweighed by him being the densest of the bunch.

Giles hadn’t really given it much thought. He should have. Travers had guards, goons, and lackeys in and around the Watchers’ Council at his command. They were probably staking out the airport as well.

“We could do a glamour?” Tara suggested. “Make you look like one of them?” She volunteered shyly.

“Sweet idea, Tara.” Dawn said, grinning cheekily at their captives.

Shackleford grunted, screaming profanities through his gag. Xander had felt and Willow had agreed, that a rag was much more effective and humiliating than a magical restraint.

“I was considering that option.” Giles admitted, miffed that he hadn’t given that a thought. The young magic crowd always went for things like that, never the more traditional routes.

Anya’s hand felt warm on Giles’ back as she rubbed circles into his skin. “Rupert, don’t worry.” Her eyes were loving and reassuring as she spoke. “You just worry about getting money to rebuild the Magic Box.”

“That’s my little capitalist.” Giles murmured as he leaned down to kiss her goodbye.

Anya pressed her fingers to his lips. She wasn’t worried, not any more. Giles would return to her, safe and sound and with all his important parts in place. Especially his heart, which she knew without a doubt, belonged to her.

“Rupert, do what you have to do, and I’ll be waiting. Not patiently, mind you because no sex and the bed will be cold without you. But I’ll be waiting.” She reached up on her toes to plant a kiss on his lips.

Giles grabbed her hand, tightly pressing it to his chest. “I love you, Anya Jenkins.”

“I know. Now get going before we get all mushy, and I don’t want to let you go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is fucking ridiculous. Timmons thought as he watched Joanna flitter around the crib as the doctor examined the baby. She reminded him of a gnat, always getting too close, then just as quickly darting away before it got squashed.

“She’s a wee lassie, isn’t she?” Dr. O’Malley remarked as he rolled Catherine’s tiny frame over and listened to her lungs.

“She was premature.” Joanna answered guiltily. Timmons coughed a warning, but Joanna refused to cower.

“I doubt she would have been much bigger. It’s probably in her genes to be tiny.” The doctor commented, rolling Catherine onto her back. He smiled at her, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “The fever is abating. I don’t see it becoming a problem. I would give her the drops I prescribed before starting her on the soy milk.” Dr. O’Malley pulled the stethoscope from around his neck, taking a final glance at the sleeping child.

“Don’t worry. This happens. Sometimes, the mother’s milk isn’t compatible. If she’s allergic to the soy, then will proceed from there, but I doubt she will be.” He rushed to reassure Joanna, seeing her face cloud over with fear. “It’s unfortunate her mother was killed. Mother’s milk is most definitely the best for a child.”

Joanna felt her stomach lurched and she clutched protectively at her stomach as it pitched and rolled. “Yes, that’s what I’ve been told.” She said lamely.

“We appreciate you coming on short notice, Doctor. As you can see, we’re a tad overwhelmed.” Timmons spoke up. His eyes were hard as they swept contemptuously over Joanna’s trembling form back up to the concerned gaze of the doctor. “My sister-in-law’s death was a devastating tragedy. It’s been a difficult time for all of us.”

“Of course, it has.” That explained a lot as far as Dr. O’Malley was concerned. This was a family in turmoil.

“My father-in-law would like to speak to you. Catherine is his first and only grandchild, and he’s overprotective.”

Dr. O’Malley smiled. “Most grandparents are. I’d be happy to speak to him.”

Timmons’ smile was genuine. “Thank you. If you’ll follow me, we can make the call from the library, and leave wee Catherine to her sleep.”

Joanna followed them to the door, closing it behind their retreating forms.

“She’s going to be alright.”

Joanna clamped her hand over her mouth to still the scream that wanted to escape. Would it kill her to ring a bell or something to announce her presence?

“Yes.” Joanna replied in a rush of air. “The doctor said she will be fine.”

“Good.” Hallie said, relieved. “Buffy and Spike will be thrilled.” She brushed the curtain aside, peering down at the drive. The doctor was shaking hands with the guard. Words were exchanged, but Hallie couldn’t make them out. They weren’t important anyway. She’d learned all she needed to know from the conversation she’d overheard earlier.

“Mr. Travers is coming? Do you have any idea when he’ll arrive?”

Joanna shook her head. “No. I don’t. I would guess mid-day. I don’t think he’s leaving until tomorrow morning.”

“Good. Good.” Hallie admitted absently. “That’ll give them plenty of time. I’m not sure what time they’ll be here tonight, but be ready to leave when they do arrive. And oh, if they seem a bit edgy, that’s their nature. They’re what my dear mother would have called high-strung. If they snap at you, it’s nothing personal. I’ve already told them whose side you’re on.”

Joanna tensed at that. “I… Do they hate me? I kidnapped their child.”

Hallie paused, caressing Bitty’s cheek. “Yes, you did. But you’ve also kept her safe.”

Joanna nodded, her guilt silencing her. Tonight would be her judgment day. She could only hope Catherine’s parents forgave her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The plane was packed, but there was something to be said for traveling with a computer hack that happened to be a powerful Wicca too.

“Giles, bumping those people was for a good cause. I got them on another plane and in first class. They didn’t lose anything, but time.” Willow whispered tersely as she gladly accepted her complimentary glass of white wine.

“Willow, we are the good guys. Ergo, traveling coach is perfectly alright.” Giles replied to her, balancing his glass of scotch on his knee.

Willow rolled her eyes. “We’re still the good guys, but we’ve upgraded. Think Giles. If we were in the back with all the other people, we wouldn’t be able to talk freely about stuff that might get us committed to an asylum.” Willow sipped at her wine, leaning her head back. “Besides, admit it. You’ve always wanted to fly first class.”

Giles didn’t answer, but Willow saw the upward curl of his lips as he drew the scotch into his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he was a child, he had what they now call Attention Deficient Syndrome. His mother had scolded him repeatedly, urging him to concentrate on his work, to do better in school. He’d taken her advice to heart, and when he felt his mind wander, he would repeat the familiar phrase from Pygmalion until he was centered, at ease. That ability to order his thoughts was what kept him from becoming agitated by the myriad of responsibilities he had as Council head. It was what made him a competent leader. It was also, what would mark his enemies to failure.

“Mr. Travers? Sir?” Carol Henly was loath to disturb her boss, but he had ordered her to notify him when she had made the last call.

“Sir?”

The sound of a soft sigh emanating from Travers’ lips was the only indication he’d heard her. “Yes, Ms. Henly?”

“I’m done. As per your instructions, I called Yvonne Hewitt last. Her assistant told me she was in a meeting, and would call you later.” She said, reciting the message she’d been given.

“Has Mr. Timmons called yet?”

“No, sir.”

Travers rocked back on his heels, quiet in his observation. “They are scared, Ms. Henly.”

“Sir?” Carol asked, for what seemed the umpteenth time. “Who’s scared?”

“The other members of the Council. They tremble in fear, wondering why I’ve cancelled the meeting. It’s really quite amusing and a stress-reliever.” Travers chuckled. “All this concern because something has come up that will not allow me the time to meet. And they are worried it’s the end of their world.”

She was flabbergasted. Never had Travers dropped his guard around any underlings. If she wasn’t in his face almost twenty-four hours a day, she would have wondered if he had teeth. His jovial nature actually frightened her. No wonder the members of the Executive board were unnerved by his decision to wait until a time to be announced later for the meeting.

“Oh.” She said, noncommittally.

Travers chuckled again. He’d obviously shocked his young assistant. Too bad Mr. Shackleford wasn’t here. He would have seen the humor in the situation. Oh, well, Mr. Shackleford was busy obtaining Miss Summers’ blood.

“Never fear Ms. Henly, I promise you this jovial mood shall soon pass. If you could hold all my calls for the rest of the day, I must complete some necessary work before I leave tomorrow. I will be out of the country until Thursday morning. Is that understood?” By now, Travers had moved back around his desk, flipping through his day planner.

“Yes, sir. I will hold all calls.” Carol paused on the threshold of the door. “I hope everything is alright, sir.”

Travers smiled, genuinely. “After tomorrow, my dear, everything will be perfect.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dewey was nearly asleep. Since the redheaded witch and the Slayer’s Watcher had left, things had gone from busy to boring in fifteen minutes flat. He figured he might as well get in a couple of safe winks, since he doubted he’d sleep easily in jail. It was amusing to think he wasn’t concerned about his future imprisonment. There was only one explanation for this feeling of apathy: He was burned out.

“Wake up.” Shackleford whispered tersely. “We’ve got to find a way out of here.”

Dewey opened one eye, turning his head to glare at his former boss. “You’re super commando. Get out of here yourself. Me? I’m staying put. I’ll do my time, and then head home to France. Hopefully, you’ll become some inmate’s bitch and die in prison.” With that, Dewey closed his eye and turned his head away.

”Do you think they’ll win? Travers won’t allow that. He’s thought of everything. In the end, the Slayer will be dead and he’ll have her child. You can end up on the winning team if you play your cards right.”

Dewey’s _expression didn’t change nor did he open his eyes again. He wasn’t a betting man, never liking the odds of gambling. There was too much to lose, too many variables he couldn’t control. This situation had been doomed from the beginning. They may have had the backing of Quentin Travers, but this ragtag group had something going for them as well. They were family, and family fought for family no matter the odds.

“No, thanks. I’ll take my chances, but if you want to go, by all means, go.”

Nostrils flared, Shackleford’s eyes narrowed into slits, and the air felt as if it had frozen. “You won’t get a chance to enjoy your time in prison.” He threatened.

Dewey chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Then I suppose, I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Tara approached the twosome, her senses acutely aware of something sinister and nasty in the air. “Here’s some food.” She said tentatively, sliding some fruit and granola bars towards them. “It’s not much.”

“It’s more than you deserve.” Anya spat. She pushed the fair-headed Wicca aside and stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the shackled duo. “You destroyed my shop. I want to know why.”

Dewey’s eyes opened slowly. Well, didn’t this make things interesting.

Foot tapping, Anya wasn’t going to be put off, and this was also part of the plan. “Hey, I’m talking to you, buster.” Anya’s dainty foot connected with Shackleford’s shin. He grunted, glaring at her.

“Call me a bitch and I’ll have your tongue removed through your nose. And I’m not selling wolf tickets either.” Anya huffed.

“No, she’s not.” Dawn waggled her finger in Shackleford’s face. “She was a vengeance demon. She’s got centuries of experience in these things. If anyone can make you suffer and keep you conscious at the same time, it’s Anya.” She harrumphed.

Anya beamed, her tiny chest puffed up with pride.

“Ooh, stop. I’m scared.” Shackleford sneered.

Although, their plan had been to get as much information as they could from Shackleford, Anya felt something snap within her. The Magic Box had been her dream. She’d worked hard to make it a success and in one afternoon, they’d taken it from her, nearly ending her life in the process. She understood vengeance, and right now, she was consumed with getting it for herself.

“You SOB! You took away my store and I want to know why!” Anya began striking Shackleford about the fact and shoulders, her tiny fist raining down all the frustration and fear she’d felt in the last two weeks.

Dawn and Tara exchanged worried glances. Was this part of the show? Only Xander seemed to recognize the truth in Anya’s actions. He grabbed the petite woman around the waist, pulling her away from Shackleford.

“Anya! Stop it! Anya, it’s me, Xander. He can’t hurt you anymore. Stop it!”

But Anya was in a zone, and she swung out blinding, defensively, striking Xander across the cheek. The reverberating sound echoed off the chilled rock formation.

“Xander! Anya!” Tara screamed.

Anya backed away from Xander, her hands clenched tightly. “Why did you stop me? Are you still on their side?” She said loudly, but mouthed silently that she was sorry.

Xander flinched at her accusation. “No, but I also don’t see the point in beating them either. What makes you think they’ll give you the info you want anyway? Besides, Warren’s a coward. He’ll give them up as soon as he finds out they are in custody.”

Shackleford snorted. “Are you kidding me? What is this? Good cop. Bad cop.” He seemed to find the shocked and guilty looks on Xander and Anya’s faces highly amusing.

“You twits couldn’t break your way out of a cardboard box. I’m bored now. Is this all we get for dinner?” He said dismissively, ignoring them as he picked up an apple and bit into it.

Dawn looked at Tara, who in turn, looked at Anya and Xander. None of them seemed to know what to do next. They definitely needed to regroup.

“We should get Dawn home. She…she…she has an exam in the morning.” Tara suggested, gathering up her things and Dawn’s as she did.

“But…but, what about questioning them?” Anya protested. “I want to know who destroyed my store.” Anya turned to Xander. “They used you. Are you going to let them get away with that?”

Xander lowered his head, refusing to look Anya in the eye.

Shackleford snickered. “He’s quite the catch, isn’t he? Whatever did you see in him?”

Only Tara’s hand on Xander’s arm kept him from continuing what Anya started. A slight shake of her head was enough to remind him that they did indeed have a plan.

“Clem, I’ll be back tomorrow to relieve you. If they give you any problems, put the word out at Willy’s there’s fresh bait to be had for the taking.” Xander spun around, clambering up the metal steps.

Dewey watched warily as Tara, Anya, and Dawn hurried after him. This whole set-up seemed weird to him. Who cared what Warren’s reasons were for blowing up the Magic Box? They had to know Shackleford wouldn’t tell. It wasn’t in his best interest. So why the interrogation, if you could call it that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you think they bought it?” Dawn gushed, as soon as they stepped outside the crypt. “I think they bought it.”

Xander shrugged. “I don’t know. Somebody might have put it on a bit thick.”

Anya huffed, turning her back on Xander as she addressed Dawn’s question. “I think they bought it. Why wouldn’t they? We did a great job. All we need now is for the two of them to sit and stew and spew.”

“Eww.” Dawn groaned. “Okay, moving past that mental picture, if they don’t say anything, what then?”

Tara and Anya shared a knowing look. “If they don’t admit to their guilt on tape, then all we can hope for is for Warren to turn on them.”

“Which could or couldn’t happen.” Xander grudgingly admitted. “But we’re going to think positively. Clem’s going to monitor the video cameras. When they confess, we’ll turn them over to the police.”

Anya sighed. “It wasn’t a bad plan as far as plans go.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Dawn told her, draping her arm over Anya’s shoulders.

Tara bent her head, peering into Xander’s face. “You okay? What that man said about you? He doesn’t know you.”

Xander looked to the sky. “He knew enough to use me to hurt my friends.”

Tara bumped him with her shoulder. “True. They used your pain and hurt to their advantage, but that didn’t know you would be man enough to admit your fault and help Buffy and Spike get Bitty back. They underestimated you. And us. Come on, let’s get home before Anya decides to go back and do bad cop, bad cop again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I said I was sorry, Xander. It wasn’t intentional.” It was an automatic response to Xander’s continued griping. She could swear on a stack of twenty dollars bills and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference to Xander.

Tara snickered. Knowing Anya’s penchant for vengeance, Tara couldn’t say with surety one way or the other. She couldn’t blame Anya for harboring ill will toward Xander, but his stupidity had paved the way for Anya to fall in love with Giles. So in losing, she’d won the ultimate prize: a man who loved Anya unconditionally. Tara doubted Anya saw the bad in that trade-off.

“I think we should get back to the research.” Tara suggested, trying to nudge the former lovers away from potentially bad rehashing of their prior relationship.

Anya huffed, snatching her book off the table and stalking into the kitchen. Tara thought she heard ‘he deserved it”, but she couldn’t be sure. Xander had the _expression of a whipped puppy, but he brought this on himself.

“Cheer up, Xander. You got off a lot easier than many of the other men she’s dealt with.” Tara reasoned.

Dawn grinned. This whole situation was ironic. She was the Key studying for a Geometry exam. A former vengeance demon and her ex-fiancé were alternating between poker and bickering, and a Wicca was bouncing back and forth both scenes.

Yes Dawn, this is your life.

She supposed this was better than what had occurred earlier. Xander’s brooding had paid homage to another vampire, whose name shall not be uttered from her lips. Anya griped that she handled this waiting better when she was having sex, but since Xander and Tara were the only legal adults to do it with, she was going to go crazy with worry. At that point, Tara pulled out a deck of cards and told them to entertain themselves.

Dawn giggled at the look of glee on Anya’s face. Tara had defused the situation about as well as Joyce would have done it. Dawn mused. She sighed as the numbers and figures on the page, blurred into unrecognizable shapes. Damnit.

Dawn yelped, knocking her book onto the floor. Her startled cry brought the three adults running, only to find the younger Summers laughing with tears running down her face.

“What is it, Dawn?”

Dawn hugged her chest tightly, the warmth that flowed through her almost overwhelming her. It took a minute before she heard the worried voices of her friends. She looked up at them with tears staining her cheeks and said.

“They’ve got her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giles peered over Willow’s shoulder as the plane dropped beneath the clouds.

“Home, sweet home.” Willow piped in enthusiastically. “Well, for you. I always assumed my first trip here would be with Tara. You know... coming to see the Old World and visit the covens. Almost doesn’t seem right to be here without her.”

Giles nodded his agreement. “Home, but under the circumstances, not so sweet.”

“We’re probably overreacting. Buffy and Spike are probably at your house, snuggled up with Bitty. Oblivious to everything else except each other and her.” That was wishful thinking on her part, but Willow liked to keep optimistic. She was less likely to conjure up a bad spell that way.

“I like your thinking, Willow. Much better for my heart.” Giles smiled and looked up as there was a ding throughout the cabin. The seat belt sign came on, the flight attendants moved through the aisles collecting the last of the trash. He brought his seat forward, jumping as Willow’s hand crept over his and gave him a squeeze. He looked at her, saw the same hope he held in his heart, and nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tara checked the lock on the door before turning the living room lights off. Finally, peace and quiet. After Dawn’s announcement, there were a lot of questions bandied about, but Dawn didn’t have any answers, which brought about more questions. It was insane for a while until hunger and sleep beckoned.

Tara stretched, rolling her head to work out the kinks. Sleep would not come easily for the occupants of Revello tonight. Especially for Dawn. She had been conspicuously absent since receiving word from Bitty. Tara thought this news would make her happy, but seconds after announcing that Bitty was safe with Buffy and Spike, Dawn had become quiet, introverted. Tara had given her time and space to process everything, expecting it wouldn’t long before Dawn rejoined the group. That hadn’t occurred, though, and Tara had become distracted.

Tara made her way slowly up the stairs, pausing outside of Dawn’s door. She knocked lightly to announce her presence and pushed the door open. Tara stood inside the door, quietly observing the lanky girl sprawled on the bed, her head hung over the side.

“Do you want to talk?” Tara sat on the bed, not wanting to push Dawn. She’d talk when she was ready, and Tara would be waiting.

“I didn’t tell her.” Dawn replied.

Tara was confused by the her and the what that needed telling.

“I didn’t tell Bitty she was in danger. How could I do that? How could I forget something that important?”

Tara laid beside Dawn, opting not to mimic Dawn’s position. Tara propped her head on her hand, and stroked Dawn’s back with the other. “Did you tell her you loved her?”

Dawn looked up, tear tracks along her face. “What? I… I didn’t tell Travers had a way to get her back. Why does it matter if I said I love you, Bitty? “ Tara didn’t understand. She couldn’t. Bitty trusted Dawn to be honest with her, to have her best interest at heart, and Dawn had failed her.

“If you told Bitty you loved her, that’s all that matters to her. She loves you. You love her. It’s very simple.” Tara leaned over, kissing Dawn lightly on the head. “You can tell Buffy when she calls. Right now, enjoy the fact your niece is safe and with her parents. And know, she’ll be home before you know it.”

Tara scooted off the bed, intent on letting her words stand on their own.

“Thanks, Tara.” Dawn told her. Tara turned around to find Dawn up and on the side of the bed. “I just don’t want anything to happen to her, you know? When I figured out what was wrong with Buffy, all I could think about was this is it, this is our chance to be a normal family. And then the attacks started, and it was scary to think the baby could be gone just like that.” She said, snapping her fingers for emphasis.

“But we’ve made it, and all I want to do is be with Buffy and Spike and Bitty. I don’t want to lose my family, Tara.”

“You won’t. We won’t let that happen. You won’t let it happen. You just have to keep the faith for little while longer.”

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

TBC....

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