Fic: Tilting The Balance (10/?)

London, England

Giles looked towards Willow as they exited the teleportation tunnel to find themselves in the London office's bunker. "Willow, could you please check the building above for foreign wards."

Giles waited patiently as the wicca closed her eyes, her brow furrowing as she concentrated. After about a minute she shook her head and opened her eyes. "No, there's only my wards up there."

"Thank you Willow," he smiled at one of his surrogate children before looking towards the two vampires lurking behind them, "Angel, could you and Spike go out and clear the grounds of any observers left there?"

"I should go with them!" snapped Kennedy. "We can't let them out of our sight for-."

"Young lady," Giles fixed Kennedy with a baleful stare. "You are an exceptional warrior, but even a Slayer is clumsy when compared to a vampire of Angel's age and experience. And even Spike, if he can keep his bloody gob shut."

"Hey!" Spike paused then shrugged. "No fair comment, I suppose." The English vampire looked towards his grand-sire. "We going, poofter?"

Angel sighed long-sufferingly. "Come on William."

* * *

"Bloody hell mate," Spike muttered as they entered the office's battle-scorched corridor, the stench of death, blood, and pain clogging the back of their throats as they crept through the corpse-strewn base. "That girl of Willow's doesn't like us does she?"

"What do you expect? Slayer, vampire, it sorta comes with the job, that's how it's supposed to be." Angel smirked at him. "Buffy and Faith are exceptions. At least Faith's an exception for me. And just are the old carrot and peas feeling now?"

Spike winced. "Low blow, mate."

Angel laughed softly. "So was Faith's kick as I recall." Angel sobered as they reached the outer hall. "There's no-one in the house."

"No-one living anyway," Spike agreed. "Nearest I can figure it the most we can check out the street and the grounds for anyone watching."

Angel nodded. "I'll take the grounds, you cover the street."

"What does that little sister Slayer of yours say?" Spike grimaced as they reached the lounge's shattered window. "Five by five."

* * *

Chev Donker peered through the tree's leafy foliage as he looked through his sniper's scope. He'd been watching the house as part of a shift for several days, waiting for any movement inside it. He'd been a sergeant in Belgium's Special Forces Group for seven years before taking W&H Paris' offer to join them in their special operations unit.

Doing so had opened him up to a world he'd never dreamed existed, demons, werewolves, vampires, zombies, and other monsters besides. But the money was very, very good.

He squinted as something seemed to shimmer out of the darkness-shrouded mansion. He almost thought he'd seen something. "Nothing there." He shook his head.

"Oh I wouldn't call me nothing." Chev gasped as he looked up, his rifle starting to rise only to be snatched away from him as his head was grabbed under the jaw and yanked back, neck snapping.

* * *

Angel watched dispassionately as the sniper dropped to the ground. He was the second man he'd found, one at the front, one at the back. He stiffened as he sensed his grand-childe drawing close and dropped from the tree, landing in a crouch. "Anything?"

"Yeah, there was a bloke lurking in the shadows of a pub, pretending to be drunk, couldn't smell a bit of booze on him, 'tho he did use Brut, so who knows? Snapped his neck and threw him in the alley." Spike glanced at the corpse by the foot of the tree. "You found one then?"

"Two actually," Angel replied.

"Ain't a competition mate," Spike retorted.

"You're only saying that because you're losing," he taunted as he strode back into the house. "I'll get the others, you find their," he nodded towards the corpse, "car and bring it outside the house then we'll drive to the rental place that Giles organised."

* * *

NY

Faith whistled as she craned her neck to peer up at the towering skyscraper, light glinting off its glass front. "That's one big building."

"I still say I should be coming in with you," Xander grumbled.

"Oh yeah," Faith shot him a scornful look, "'cause no-one's gonna notice the only one-eyed Scooby walkin' into the buildin' are they?"

Xander scowled at his girl-friend, he didn't like it when Faith used logic against it. "You're not exactly unknown or indistinctive yourself."

"True," Faith grinned as she pulled her tinted glasses on, "but come back when you've got a photo of me either with my hair up or wearin' a business suit." Xander grimaced, stymied once again. Faith looked around the cramped van. "Everyone knows the plan?"

"I'm a senior lawyer in their acquisitions department," Roger replied, his greying hair dyed black and his horn-rimmed glasses replaced by brown contacts, "young Michael is my junior, and you and the delightful Dana our personal assistants. Graham is our body-guard. We head into through the lobby," Xander shook his head, this was a very bad idea. Wes' dad noticed that and gave him a disapproving look before continuing. "And continue through there to their underground vaults, Michael dealing with any magical defences, Graham to deal with any technological ones. Once in the vaults, I select the most pertinent books, and we bring them out."

Xander decided not to give voice to his objections, it wasn't as if he had a better plan, and there was a certain audacity in walking through the front door. Xander looked towards the other two Slayers, both sleekly-muscled black girls in their early twenties. "Ada and Layla will stay here with me, and if you call for help, I'll send," he lifted up a remote-control sized object up, "an EMP pulse through the building, you hit the sewers and we'll hot-foot it to the fall-back position." Xander paused, a troubling thought occurring. "When we cut the electronics there might be people in elevators."

"Yes I realise there is that possibility," Roger countered. "However I'd be rather more concerned with out lives then those of people who'd lower themselves to either work for or employ W&H."

Xander grimaced then nodded. "Fair enough." They wouldn't be the first humans Xander had killed, there'd been the men operating a Slayer-auctioning business out of Cairo, a pair of Takaran assassins after his head for some reason, and a clan of in-bred cannibals. He'd just prefer being in the position of being able to make an informed position of those he killed, or at the least being doing that in either self-defence or the defence of his people.

Roger replied to his nod with one of his own. "In that case," the elderly Watcher took a breath, "we had best be on our way."

* * *

"You're sure your young man will stay on plan?"

"You can trust Xan," Faith tersely replied as they walked into the brightly lit, state of the art furnished reception lobby. She might get on okay with Rog, but that didn't give him right to question her man. Plus she might look smokin' in her high heels, black nylon tights, knee-length black skirt and blazer over a white silk blouse, with her hair up, and aviators on, but she was hardly Erin 'freakin' Brockovich.

Roger by contrast looked perfectly at ease in his charcoal grey pinstripe suit. Big surprise, Watchers were probably born wearing ties and carrying their library cards.

"As you say, my dear." Roger nodded brusquely. "Ms. Latimer," the man sniffed at her, the faintest semblance of a smile tugging on his lips, "I want those reports typed up and on my desk before you leave."

"Yes sir," Faith said, eyes narrowed. The crusty old bugger was enjoyin' playing 007.

* * *

"I'm sure they'll be alright, Xander."

Xander forced a smile as he tore his eyes from watching the building to look towards Ada. "I'm sure they will," he lied.

'Cause breaking into the HQ of Evil Inc was such a safe idea.

* * *

The Cotswolds

Clouds stretched over the silent forest, tree branches rustling in the night breeze.

"It's just up-."

Giles' gasp was muffled by Angel's suddenly cold hand over his mouth, Kennedy leaping to his defence, her hand streaking into her jacket to pull out a stake. "I can smell blood," Angel hissed.

Giles shuddered, his heart pounding as he nodded his understanding, the vampire releasing his grip and stepping away before Kennedy reached him. "You think the Slayers are dead?" he muttered.

Spike nodded. "Yeah, smells like it."

Giles' heart dropped, the guilt biting deep as always. As much as he hated the pain, he welcomed it, knowing if he didn't feel like this, he'd be one step closer to becoming Quentin Travers and viewing Slayers as largely disposable weapons. Four more dead girls to add to the Wall of Remembrance. "How many?" he hoarsely asked. Angel looked blankly at him. "How many waiting for us?"

Angel glanced at Spike. The younger vampire let out a muttered curse before melting into the darkness. Giles' heart jumped when the Billy Idol look-alike stepped back out of the darkness some time later. "Four Slayers and that bloke that turned you into a demon that one time?"

"Ethan?" All thoughts of guilt disappeared, replaced only by a cold rage.

Spike raised an eyebrow at his snarl. "Yeah, that'd be him."

"You three," Giles glanced at the Slayer and the two vampires, "deal with the other Slayers, Ethan's mine."

* * *

Faith snatched a hold of the thickly-muscled suit positioned outside the vault, her forearm looping around his trunk-like neck to cut off his blood supply in a heart-beat, the man sinking to the floor in seconds. "Excellent dear," Roger murmured approvingly. "Dana, Michael you're with Faith and I," he glanced towards Graham. "Mr. Miller, stay here in place of this chap that Ms. Lehane has so efficiently dealt with."

The soldier nodded silently before sitting on the recently vacated stool. "Mr. Czajak, see what you can do about the vault's magical locks."

"Yes sir." The youth turned to face the door, his jaw clenching with the effort and sweat dripping off him in less than a minute.

"Hey, Mikey."

Faith stepped forward to assist the swaying mage only to stop when he grabbed her forearm. "Your concern does you credit, Faith. But please, allow Michael to concentrate."

Faith glared up at the Englishman. "We might be gettin' on okay, but only Xan gets to put his hands on me without gettin' a receipt."

"Of course," Roger released his grip as if scalded. Beautiful and honourable Ms. Lehane might be, but one should never also forget just how feral she could be. Or at least one shouldn't, if they liked the use of all their limbs.

Finally Michael stepped back, the young mage's features haggard with exhaustion. "All alarms dealt with."

"Well done," he praised. These Sunnydalers were a wonder, Ms. Rosenberg of course was the most powerful witch in perhaps several dozen generations, but Ms. Madison and Mr. Czajak would have been near the top in many other generations, as indeed would Ms. Rosenberg's lover had she lived.

"Yeah great." Faith was practically bouncing on the spot as she and Dana put their shoulders to the vault's gleaming steel door and forced it open.

"Good gracious." Roger gasped at the rows upon rows of books, stretching back and to the left and right.

"Place is like a damn TARDIS." Roger glanced at Faith who shrugged. "I have a geek for a significant other."

"Ah yes of course," Roger's eyes crinkled with amusement. Whatever else Ms. Lehane might be, she certainly was entertaining. "I need 'Apocalyptic Prophecy'," he murmured as he walked from case to case, aging eyes peering through the half-light to read the signs on each case. "Got it!" He gasped at the selection of fifty or so books crammed onto a trio of shelves. It was a bloody scandal that Wolfram & Hart have some of these titles. Shaking his head, he stepped forward.

"Remember, we can't take the whole damn lot."

He smiled inwardly at Faith's comment and nodded. "Duly noted." He looked up and down, deciding on the three most valuable titles and snatched them off. "Let's -." Suddenly the cases upon cases of books disappeared and a quarter of scimitar wielding figures appeared. "Oh bugger."