The ceremony for Giles's vigil of arms began when the sun dipped below the horizon. The entire order assembled at the church in town, where the knights had been standing vigil for many hundreds of years. They wore the same somber clothing they'd worn to the funeral scant days before, though many of them now wore colorful sashes across their chests as well. The ones who had been knighted had the sashes, Buffy deduced.

Buffy waited inside the church with Ellen. They had seats in benches that ran alongside the altar. Conway waited behind the altar. His sash was wider and brighter than the others and a little medal was attached to it over his heart. The sign of the head of the Order, perhaps. Or maybe it was like a military medal.

Somewhere high in the church tower a single bell rang and silence fell.

Giles led the procession into the church. He was bare-handed and bare-footed, in a white with a red and black surcoat over the top. His hair had been cut in the hours since they'd parted. Behind him walked Twombly and Whiting, carrying his arms: sword, shield, spurs.

The shield they laid on the altar, the spurs beside it. The sword Giles held before himself, sheathed, with the tip resting on the flagstones before the altar.

A woman Buffy had met once, whose name she couldn't remember at all, stepped forward. She was dressed in long robes of red velvet. The sword in her hand was a fighting weapon but it also dripped with magic. She paced around the circle clockwise, starting in the east and ending there.

Buffy watched quietly from her place beside Ellen. This was real magic in action, serious magic, deep. She could feel it in her bones. It was neither good nor evil to her. It simply was. Magic was power and it could be used for any purpose a human being had. The circle was drawn, the quarters were invoked, tall candles lit at the points of the compass. At the last, the woman called upon the saint himself to come and test the aspirant fully, to try him and find his mettle. Through all of it Giles stood motionless before the altar, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword. When they were done, the air shimmered and Buffy heard a sound like crystal bells ringing very far away. A dome rose over the circle, enclosing Giles and the altar at its center. He would remain inside, sealed away from the world, until Conway ended the ritual at dawn. By then he would know whether the saint had accepted him or not.

The knights of the order left the church in solemn procession. Conway followed them slowly and Buffy trailed along behind him. She was reluctant to leave Giles alone all night.

Whiting and Twombly were there on the church steps, as well as Ellen. She stood at attention outside the door. Like Giles, she was dressed in antique uniform, with a surcoat and belt. She grasped a polearm twice her height. Buffy wondered if it was a practical weapon or if she were there merely as an honor guard. Or if it were part of her own path to knighthood, eventually, another task performed in the service of the candidate she'd been assisting.

Twombly touched his hand to his forehead as she approached.

She said, "Sorry about the, you know, pounding."

Conway snorted. "Took that to get it through his thick head that there are beings in the world stronger than he is."

Twombly simply laughed. "Now I understand why he was so set on recruiting your Watcher. You will be a powerful ally for us."

"Assuming your saint guy likes him."

"Bah. A man with that courage cannot fail."

"It is out of our hands now," Conway said.

Whiting sighed. "The ceremony seems diminished to me. Sad, almost. In other times we would have ridden here. Two dozen men on horseback, surrounding the fellow they would make one of their own. Now we are driven in vans."

Conway said, "And our cripples are with us instead of home in bed. Or dead in the field."

Whiting made a sound Buffy couldn't interpret and gave Conway a half bow. "I do not argue with all your innovations."

"Only most of them."

"The dangerous ones."

"It's why I tolerate you, Gerald. Anyway. Miss Summers. Come with me."

Conway spun his chair in place with a single quick hand motion and moved away without waiting for a response. Buffy shrugged at Twombly then followed Conway back into the church. He led her through a door on the side that went through an odd little chapel. There was a statue of a man with a sword fighting a lizard, with a lot of candles in a rack before it. About half of them were lit. They were the only light in the chapel. Behind the statue was a tiny wooden door in the stone wall. Behind it was a narrow spiral staircase that wound upward. Three-quarters of the steps' width was covered by a ramp just wide enough for Conway's chair.

Buffy wondered if she should push him, just to be polite, but he seemed to have no trouble powering himself up the ramp. He was still a knight, though no longer a fighting one, and the saint's strength was with him.

The staircase opened up onto a tiny balcony at the very top of the church. Buffy went to the railing immediately and looked down over the space. The floor was beautiful from above. Now Buffy noticed that it was patterned in the same double-barred cross shown in the diagram in the ritual book, only it was more decorative than that. A tourist could walk right across it and not notice that was a stylized sword, hilt in the east under the altar. The glittering dome exactly covered it. And inside that dome was Giles, enduring whatever it was the saint wanted him to endure. He was on his knees now, in a completely different place in the circle. He was leaning forward, head down, weight on his right fist. He was rubbing his chest with his left hand.

"Hang in there, tiger," Buffy said under her breath.

Conway came up beside her. She didn't take her gaze off Giles. "Nice view," she said.

"I find it useful to know what a candidate does when he is alone before the altar."

"What is going on in there?" Buffy said.

"We don't speak of it to outsiders," Conway said. She glared at him but he smiled at her. "It's difficult to describe to anyone without an experience of the vigil. A conversation with the saint? An examination of one's life. A weighing of one's soul. One sees one's death and either meets it with courage or not."

"I didn't get any of that. Just woke up one morning and blam. Slammed doors, shattered glasses for a while. Also had really weird urges to skewer flies with thumbtacks, just because I could. Nobody asked me if I could handle it."

"Could you?"

"Once my first Watcher showed up. But it was rocky for a while. Didn't really figure stuff out until Giles. He's special."

"Are you two lovers?"

She didn't feel like going into details with Conway. Not that she disliked him, because he had good vibes in all ways to the Slayer sensors within. It was more that it was a private thing. It was her business and Giles's business, and Giles didn't like parading his relationships in public.

"Would you have a problem with that?" Buffy said.

"No," Conway said. "I was attempting to make small talk."

Like hell he was, but Buffy couldn't be bothered to argue the point. Something was itching at her nerves. She paced the length of the hidden gallery, taking care to muffle her steps. Giles looked okay down there, so that wasn't it.

"Giles was controversial, huh?"

"More than usual. We nearly refused him. It's easy for a man to join us for selfish reasons."

"A man?"

"Or a woman," Conway said, easily. "Imagine the Slayer gifts given to anybody who wanted them."

Buffy imagined it, and mostly what she saw in her head was Faith, who had grooved on it. Grooving was okay, but she'd gone from grooving to getting off on what she could do to other people. Not on the job, but on the power.

"What made you decide to support him?" she asked.

"Ah. Our contact in- never mind where. Our contact sent in his full report on his career as the black sheep of the Watchers."

"So you didn't mind the demon thing."

"If the Slayer had accepted him, it was likely that the 'demon thing' was no longer an objection. Particularly this Slayer. Your file was included with his. It was clear his loyalty to you was untouchable, but was he loyal to a force on our side?"

"And?"

"The Council is not aligned with us. But you are. We fight the same enemy in the same manner."

"So you totally disagree with Whiting."

"Gerald is my conscience. It is his duty to argue with me."

Buffy went to the other end of the balcony and leaned over. There were shields hung on the wall within reach. Each one had been carried by a living, breathing knight who had died. From battle, from old age, from illness, from accident. The nearest one was a deep blue with a pattern of golden diamonds on it. There were dents and scratches in the leather, but it didn't look old. She could sense the magic latent in it. Could anyone pick it up and wear it? She hovered her hand over it. No. It belonged to one person, a man or a woman she didn't know, but its bearer was long gone. Everybody died eventually. She would. Giles would. The question was how.

The scent of the candles reached her: warm sweet beeswax, with incense below.

Buffy pulled away from the railing and paced over to Conway. He considered her, head tilted.

"What?"

"We are puzzled by the Power behind the line of Slayers. It chooses oddly at times. And at other times it chooses... spectacularly well."

"Giles says he thinks it takes risks sometimes. Rolls the dice to see what happens."

"George is more methodical."

"George. Your Power has a name."

Conway fidgeted with his gloves. "His avatar is known now with that name, though it was not what his contemporaries called him. Nor is it what we call him in our ritual."

"Not sure I get this stuff."

"It matters little. What matters more is what he makes of it all." Conway gestured at the balcony rail. Buffy drifted back to it and looked down at Giles. He'd moved again and was now on his knees at the exact center of the pattern on the floor. For the first time Buffy noticed that the points of the cross were at the compass points, and the magical dome was raised exactly upon the line circumscribed around them. The altar was at the eastern point. Was that significant? Probably. Probably she'd never need to know the details.

"So did you lie? When you told Giles it wasn't about me."

"I may have, ah, concealed part of my motive."

Buffy frowned at him, but didn't feel like arguing. This guy was no Maggie Walsh. No Quentin Travers, either. He'd risked his own neck. His own legs. He hadn't paid the ultimate price, but he'd paid enough. She wondered if he'd been angry or depressed or freaked out when whatever it was had happened to put him in the chair, how long it had taken him to get used to it. She wondered what she would feel if it happened to her.

"You may ask if you wish," he said.

Buffy realized she'd been caught staring and flushed. Conway did not seem angry, however, so she dared take him up on it. "What did it?"

"A dragon."

"Holy- I mean, woah. A dragon?"

"A small one. We slew it, but I began celebrating too early and was careless. Its death throes were my undoing." He gestured toward his legs. "The tail caught me. Shattered both legs. The bones refused to mend."

She felt a little pang. She might get smashed by a dragon the same way, but her bones were guaranteed to fix themselves. Up to a point. "How long ago?"

"Twenty years. I was able to get about on crutches until recently. Age has proven to be a worse enemy than any dragon."

"I wouldn't know."

"You might yet learn."

"I wish."

"It's a dangerous life we lead," Conway said, and he shrugged.

Buffy scratched the back of her neck. Her nerves were seriously on edge now. She paced along the little balcony and gave serious thought to doing a high-wire routine on the railing. She was that tense. Worried about Giles? What would Giles say if he were with her now? He'd tell her to hone, duh.

Buffy closed her eyes and honed. And then she got mad. She stomped over and stood four-square in front of Conway and glared.

"There's a vampire out there," she told him. "You send that to make his vigil more exciting? Give his test some teeth?"

"The trials he faces are emotional. Daggers of the mind. If there is a vampire out there-"

"There is." Buffy wrinkled her nose.

"It was not our doing. Perhaps-" Conway trailed off. He rolled himself closer to the edge of the balcony and looked down. Buffy felt her body shifting into fight mode, almost without her conscious intent. The vampire was nearby now, inside the church even. That was one brave vampire. Buffy looked into the shadows beyond the circle. There it was, moving into the candlelight, approaching the circle where Giles knelt, unaware.

"You told him he'd face his death."

"Yes."

"You know what death looks like to a Watcher? It looks like that."

Giles would think it was supposed to kill him. Maybe he wouldn't defend himself. Maybe he'd go all over noble and resigned. Buffy found herself crouched on the balcony railing, ready to jump down. If she leapt down and broke the circle, he'd fail the test. Better that than die. But Buffy held herself in place on the balcony railing, poised. Only if started to bite him. Only then would she make Giles fail.

The vampire crossed the circle. The barrier sparked and Buffy saw the vampire wince. But the circle did not shatter: the vampire was not a living being. The vigil had not been broken.

Giles scrambled to his feet as the dome shimmered. He turned and saw there was someone in the dome with him. Buffy hovered, ready to move, but the two figures below her were motionless. Then Giles reached inside his tunic and pulled out his crucifix, the little gold one she'd given him to wear. The vampire recoiled and snarled. Its face transformed. It leered at Giles open-mouthed.

"You're not what I expected," the vampire said.

"Oh?" Giles held his ground. The crucifix didn't waver.

"No. But you'll do."

The vampire reached for him. Giles stepped back, and again. The vampire would have him pinned against the altar in another instant. Giles held the crucifix steady before him, however.

The vamp lashed out and the crucifix went flying. Buffy forced herself not to jump. But Giles didn't need it. He braced himself against the altar and kicked. The sword was in his hand and the next moment was raised. It flashed in the torchlight and darkened, and there was a spray of blood that turned to dust in the air and was gone. Giles stood frozen in place for a moment, then he turned slowly, sword still overhead in a guard position. He was breathing hard, but his posture was solid, ready.

He'd done it. He'd killed it.

Giles knelt before the altar and returned the sword to its place. He touched a hand to his forehead and bowed it, then backed away, still on his knees. His posture had changed from what it had been when he'd first entered the circle, she decided. His head was up, now, shoulders back. Did he believe he'd faced what he was supposed to face? Was that what he was supposed to face?

Buffy slid down from the railing and tried to make herself relax. Her palms were sweaty. Adrenaline rush, even though she hadn't been the one fighting.

"He has been accepted," Conway said. "Look." He pointed. The shield resting on the altar was shimmering. While she watched, it rippled through the rainbow, then settled into a deep green. It shimmered again, and something appeared on it. Stylized lances. Three silver lances on a green shield.

"Giles's symbol?"

"His device, chosen by the saint himself."

Or by some power, some thing that had never been and never would be human, but whatever it was, it was on their side. Buffy decided to be okay with that.

"We will knight him in the morning," Conway said. "You'll participate. He'll need someone to gird his sword on."

He hadn't phrased it as a request, but Buffy didn't mind. She'd figured out Conway. He was doing her an honor by including her, and in his world there was no reason she'd ever have to refuse.

"It is pure formality, of course. The Power has already taken him as one of us. But we do like our rituals."

"Wild. Does George usually summon demons for you to fight during your vigils?"

"No. It is a thing I have never seen, and I have watched a hundred vigils." Conway touched his fingers to his lips. "Could it be- Tell me, young woman. What does the Slayer think is going on?"

Buffy stared at him for a second. She'd started thinking of the Knights as Slayers but they weren't Slayers. They were a different thing. No vamp sense. Then she snapped to and honed. Nothing in the dark corners, though her Slayer senses were still going haywire because of all the magic flying around. But further out, further out-

"Shit," she said.

"How many?"

"Another two. At least."

"Two?" Conway gripped his rails with both hands. "No demon has dared approach this place in five centuries. Why are they here now? Attracted by you?"

"Attracted, sent, I don't know. I just know they're out there." She produced a stake from her sleeve. "Stay inside the church. They'll come in here if they really want to, but usually it takes them a while to work up the nerve. You should be safe."

"I am not helpless, young woman," Conway said. He shook his arms just so, and was holding a dagger in each hand. Wooden in the right, silver in the left. Buffy grinned at him, turned, and booked down the spiral ramp. Leap feet-first, rebound from the wall, grab the railing and swing her body around, roll and come to her feet running. Through the side room thing, out into the main hall, away from the glittering magical dome.

The great wooden doors swung open silently and the form of a man stepped inside the church. Buffy would have known it as a vampire even without the Slayer spirit inside her straining for the fight.

"Sorry. Services are over. You'll have to come back Sunday morning."

The vampire's face transformed. "Slayer," it said.

"Got it in one."

"I was promised your blood tonight. So sweet."

"Promised?"

The vampire smiled, or rather, bared its teeth. They were already bloody. Buffy cursed herself briefly. She hadn't moved fast enough. She didn't waste time with this one: a flurry of punches to get it off balance, wait for an opening, kick to the face to knock it against a wall, stake between the ribs just so. She yanked her hand back to keep the stake, because she was going to need it. The dust fell to the church floor behind her as she ran for the doors.

The situation outside wasn't good. Somebody was slumped face-down on the church steps. Somebody else was struggling with a vampire. Ellen. She had her polearm wedged up between her body and the vamp, but it was a losing battle.

Buffy tapped the vamp on the shoulder.

"Can I have this dance?" she said.

It responded by tossing Ellen away down the steps. Buffy swore and kicked its feet out from under it in revenge. It went down and came up snarling.

What happened next was what happened every night of the week in Sunnydale: a bare-fisted brawl with a demon. It didn't feel like she was fighting for her life, though if she screwed up badly enough it would turn into one fast. It was tactical. Dance with the vamp until it revealed its weaknesses to her, then take it out. The young ones died fast. The old and canny ones took more work. This one was canny indeed. It had been playing with Ellen when it could have eaten her.

Buffy realized two minutes into the dance that it was nearly an equal adversary. Three minutes in she admitted to herself that it was fun. She could screw up and die at any moment but God, this was exciting. Her blood was pumping and every single little bit of her was alive. She laughed and launched herself into the air at it in complete joy.

It met her mid-air, snarling, and they fell together in a heap. It recovered first. Buffy felt it grip her throat and lift her into the air. Before she could get her stake hand in motion, it had flung her.

Buffy hit the step railing so hard she bounced. Her vision went strange and her knees wobbly. She tried to stand and couldn't. Uh oh.

"Ah, little Slayer," the vamp said. It closed in with triumph on its face. Buffy could smell the blood on its breath. It wrapped a fist in her shirt and lifted her from the ground. "Such a pity. I was enjoying our dance."

"I wasn't. You stepped on my foot."

"I could turn you," it said to her. "You and I could do this every night forever."

The buzzing faded and Buffy's feet started working again. And the stake was in her hand even yet. "Sorry, no."

"Then you will die."

"Yeah, eventually. But not right now."

Buffy jabbed up with the stake. It looked shocked. Its face transformed to human again and dissolved into dust.

She sprang up to a crouch, stake still at the ready, but there was nothing left to fight. Standing up straight hurt. Buffy made a face and gingerly touched where she'd hit the railing. That was going to be one deep bruise. It might even last until morning. And of course she had vamp dust on her face.

She walked slowly up the church steps to where the body of a man lay face-down. She could see Conway there, parked beside it, with Ellen sitting on the ground beside. Ellen was crying.

Buffy turned the body over gently. Whiting. Dead, with a stake still in his hand.

Buffy had long since moved past sentimentality about vampire victims. She felt sorry for them, and that went double for the ones she'd known. But there were things she had to do as a Slayer, and she had to do them now. There was blood on Whiting's mouth and the faintest aura of demon about him. But not enough. The vamp who'd killed him had started to turn him but stopped for reasons she couldn't guess at. Or it had been interrupted. Maybe Whiting had fought back. Fighting back usually did no good for ordinary humans, and sometimes no good even for a Slayer involuntarily turned, but it should have worked for a Knight of St George.

Buffy tossed her stake, caught it, and considered the puzzle of Whiting. The Council had to have somebody on the inside of the Order. Conway had as good as admitted he had somebody on the inside over there. It wasn't Whiting. They wouldn't have killed him. Not unless he'd disobeyed orders for some reason, if he'd turned out to be a good guy after all. Either way, she'd have to warn Giles that the Council was out to get them for real now.

Buffy stood and went to Conway. "He won't rise," Buffy told him. She handed him the stake. Conway turned it over in his hands and said nothing. "Was he working for them?"

"No. That was Alec. I suspected at first your Giles was to be his replacement."

"And you were going to take him anyway?"

"You must learn to play chess some day."

"I don't have time for that."

"You will, I think. Remember me when you do."

And that was the oddest thing he'd said yet. Buffy didn't know what to do with it, or with the exhaustion on his face. The Slayer spirit inside her was restless yet. Buffy stood on the church steps and reached out into the night with those senses, searching. Nearby but fading fast. And nearby, a car engine revving high.

Around the curve came a van being driven by a maniac. Buffy coiled herself, ready to fling Conway bodily away from its path if necessary, but it slewed to a stop half on the walkway. The side door slammed open and six knights leapt out, one of them Twombly. They were all carrying swords. The cavalry, about ten minutes too late. Conway signalled them and they ran off into the church, swords drawn. The van's driver trotted up to the group at the top of the steps.

"You need to leave now. Vampires. On the grounds." Then the man spotted the body on the steps. "Where?"

He started to draw his sword. Buffy grabbed his arm and stopped him. "They're dead."

He glanced at Conway, who nodded. "The Slayer dispatched two and our new knight the other. What were their numbers?"

"Another three at the gatehouse. We were taken by surprise. We'd set no guards at all. We were lax-"

Conway silenced him with a gesture and the fellow straightened up. "Casualties?"

"Everyone is accounted for. But we need to get you to safety. There might be more."

Buffy didn't wait to hear Conway take the guy's head off for that "safety" crack. She held up her hand. "They're gone. There were more, but they're far away now. Can barely sense them."

"Take Ellen to the infirmary. And send someone here for the body. Go. Now." That was said quietly but with force. The man took Ellen's arm gently and helped her to her feet and into the van. They drove off. Buffy watched the van vanish around the bend down the road and listened until the engine noise was faint. The noises of the night resumed: the wind in the trees, the hooting of owls. The vampire-itch was far, far away now. The Slayer spirit had no further messages for her.

No, it had one message left: a pulsing reminder that she had a death to avenge. But there Buffy could no longer tell what was her own urge and what came from the Slayer spirit. Probably it didn't matter.

The church doors opened. Twombly and another man emerged. Their swords were sheathed. The other man stationed himself at the door. Twombly strode over to Conway.

"The Church is secure," he said. "The ritual is undisturbed."

"The Slayer took care of that before you arrived," Conway said, sharply.

"He has his device."

"I am aware of that as well."

Twombly didn't appear to notice. He knelt beside Whiting's body and touched the its forehead gently. Then he put his hand over his heart and bowed his head for a long moment. Buffy turned away and scanned the road toward the town, just to give him privacy.

"He died well," Twombly.

"Perhaps."

"He died fighting. It's all we can ask. But he would have said that you should have predicted this."

Conway made a frustrated noise. "I predicted a breach, but not this violent or direct. Not during our most sacred ritual."

Buffy said, "Have you ever met Quentin Travers?"

"Not yet," Conway said.

So that was what he sounded like when he was angry. Buffy shivered. She wanted to be there to see it when it happened. Could the Knights of St George take human life if they had to? Giles could. Giles had. She hadn't done the deed directly before, though she'd let people die, had watched them hoist on their own petards. Could she do it? The Slayer spirit was silent on this one.

Conway spun his chair and faced away from them. He said, addressing the church doors, "Go back to the dormitory."

"You're crazy. There's no way I'm leaving Giles."

"The Order is here now, guarding this church. Your man is safe. You said yourself they were leaving."

Twombly said, "I'll guard him for the rest of the night, little Slayer."

"You will not. I want you both presentable tomorrow. She's coming to do the deed herself."

"She is?" Twombly laughed in pure delight. Apparently he knew who "she" was. Neither of them seemed inclined to clue Buffy in. "Come on, Slayer. Let's rest while we can. Let the old man stay up all night watching. We'll do the fighting for him tomorrow."

"Go," Conway said, and Buffy didn't mind that it felt like an order. She was tired, and a guy who'd broken his body slaying a dragon had all the credibility anybody needed with her.

Twombly drove her back to the great house, where a worried-looking teenager barred her way through the door with a polearm gripped white-knuckled. It was the boy she'd seen hanging around Ellen, the boy she'd been smooching in the orchard. He held a crucifix up to her face.

"It's safe now," she told him, but he didn't lower the crucifix until Buffy had touched it unharmed. Good training. It was nice to think there were other people other there being trained to fight demons. It meant she wasn't actually the one girl in all the world.

He bowed to her and lifted the polearm aside and she went in and up to her room without encountering anyone else. Buffy conked out face-down in bed, still dressed, and slept until shaken awake by Ellen.