Author's Note: Happy Christmas, everyone! This chapter has been owed for some time now, so I made it extra long to make up for the delay, as well as a little gift for you all. Enjoy and have a brilliant holiday!

The traffic was incredible. Travelers bustled to and from the airport, bumping into one another in a mad dash for a cab or their awaiting airplane. Ripper had led them into the line of awaiting travelers to grab a cab. "You two are being awfully cuddly," Xander's voice rang out, making Ripper look down at Buffy, who was snuggled up against his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist. He shot her a knowing smirk, and she quickly flushed and gave him a warning look.

"Let's not turn green now, Xander. I really don't think it's your color," Ripper said instead.

"Who's jealous? Me? I'm not jealous. It just so happens I have a crazy ex-vengeance demon waiting for me at home," Xander said.

Ripper looked over at him in surprise. "Really? You've got yourself a bird?"

"Yes. Why is that so surprising?" Xander huffed. "I just . . . don't really get to see her all that much. Since I keep being pulled in to help save the world and all." Well, that was news. Did Willow have herself a boyfriend, too? She was quite quiet on that front, choosing to look around intently instead. "But just because no one has seen her, doesn't mean she doesn't exist!" Xander continued on desperately.

"Hm," Ripper grunted noncommittally and finally managed to secure a cab for them. They loaded up their things, and then packed inside. "Bishops Avenue," he said to the driver, reaching into his pocket to check his wallet for money. Xander and Willow had their faces plastered to the windows, looking out at the city as they passed. There were a few new things for Ripper to see as well. "Well . . . that wasn't here before," he murmured, looking at the large Ferris Wheel. The Eye of London.

Eventually, they turned on Bishops Avenue, and Ripper felt his cheeks start to tingle in embarrassment as his companions saw wealthy estate after wealthy estate pass. "Wait . . . Giles, you're like . . . a king?" Willow asked, staring wide-eyed at the large homes.

"Please. Never," Ripper rolled his eyes. "My family is simply . . ."

"Rich as a king," Xander finished for him. "I mean look at these houses!"

Ripper shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It's my family's house." He hadn't used any of his family's money when he had left the Academy. He'd been on his own and so used his own wit and wiles and talents in magicks to earn his keep. That, and he had quite the reputation to keep. His bad boy, ruffian lifestyle looked rather questionable knowing his parents had a nice, secure home with a large bank account.

Eventually, they pulled into the drive, and Ripper brushed his hand through his hair. They got out of the cab, Ripper paying the driver, and then walked up to the house. It was . . . large. Three floors, brick house with a round-circle drive that led up to an ornate door fixed under a decorative arch. Chimneys dotted the rooftops, a few of them smoking. Windows dotted the house, their panes white as bright as the day they were first installed. The grass and hedges surrounding the house was precisely cut and trimmed. The house had an old-feeling, as though it had been here for years, but its sheer power and status had allowed it to survive the ravages of time and history. As far as Ripper knew, it had been in his family for a century, at least. There had always been a Giles in this home.

To Ripper's extreme embarrassment, the front door opened as they approached and an elderly man and woman rushed out. They were older than he remembered . . . but he knew their faces. "Master Rupert!" the man said in surprise. "You . . . how . . . !?"

"Yes, I know. Young face and all that. I time traveled. You know how magic can be," Ripper said quickly. "You're both still alive then, yeah?"

The man snorted. "Brusque as always, Master Rupert. You should have called beforehand, we'd have had the house prepared."

"I didn't think I'd still keep servants," Ripper grunted. "Apparently, I thought a little too highly of my older self. Well, here we all are. Everyone, this is Mr. Bryans, the family butler. And this is Mrs. Marigold, the housekeeper."

She clicked her tongue at that. "I'm not just the housekeeper, Rupey." Ripper winced. "I'm also the cook, and I was your nanny when you were just in buckles," she reminded him firmly. "And now look at you. I thought I was done with seeing your messy hair and eyeliner and torn jeans. What's this now? It isn't as though you're too poor to buy yourself some soap and a nice set of clothes."

Xander was trying to mask his laughter behind his fist, which was stuffed into his mouth. Buffy was sharing significant looks with Willow, who was biting her lip. Ripper crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, we're here to stay for a day or two. We've business in England, and then believe me, I'll be out of your hair in a tick."

Bryans shared a look with Marigold. "Well, all the same. We're here to serve. If you'd all gather in the study, Mrs. Marigold and I shall prepare your rooms," he said, ushering them inside and taking the ladies' luggage himself. They entered through the wide arch and thick-wooden doors, and into a tall, grand entrance. A grand staircase greeted them on the other side of the entrance hall, spiraling up to the next floor. The hall split off into two separate halls. Whilst Bryans carried the luggage to the left, Ripper led the others down the right hall.

The walls were richly decorated and ornate. Deep blues and reds interrupted by large portraits of past family members or masterful paintings of the English countryside. Ripper felt the portraits' eyes on him as he passed, the feeling of disappointment and disdain keenly felt. He hated this house. His dreams had been crushed here. He'd suffered years of strained conditioning and preparation. He'd had numerous terrible fights with his father here. Yeah, this place was shite.

Pushing the door open to the study, he heard Willow gasp behind him as they walked through. "It's like . . . like Beauty and the Beast! Look at all of the books!"

Ripper glanced around. "Yeah, they're alright." Shelves upon shelves of books were stacked from floor to ceiling. A large ladder with wheels was hitched to a rail that went around the entire room, so one could reach the top most books. This room was mostly oak with a few Edwardian throw rugs on the floor. Despite the fact that the bookcases went up to the ceiling, it was actually a rather small room. A desk was positioned in front of a window, an extinguished fireplace facing it on the other side. Ripper ignored this desk and the papers that were neatly piled atop it.

Instead, he walked over to one of the bookcases and examined the titles. Which ones was it? Ah. T.S. Elliot and Lovecraft, that's right. Ripper pulled them both at the same time, and the bookcase swung to the side. "Ah yes, secret passage!" Xander exclaimed. "Do you guys have a dungeon, too?"

"If we did," Ripper stopped and looked over his shoulder at him, "and I told you . . . I'd have to kill you."

Xander laughed nervously. "That's a joke. That . . . is a joke, right?"

"Yes, Xander. That's where we keep the kinky sex toys," Ripper said casually, leading them down a set of stairs and into a much larger room. It was clear that this was a study much more fitted to the Giles' family occupation. Skulls and other jarred body parts—human and not—were neatly stacked along shelves. Ancient texts were carefully bunched together along bookshelves. Weapons were hung on the walls and displayed in glass cases. Ripper knew this room well. Before he had left for the Academy, his father had trained him in this very room. Hours had been spent here . . . reading, practicing weapons, practicing magicks, disciplining when he hadn't done something right. He shivered from the cold memory.

"What are we looking for?" Buffy asked, taking an interest in some of the pointy weapons.

"My father had maps. I think one of them might show us where the site of Camelot used to be. Excalibur and Camelot tend to go together. If we can find one, we can find the other," Ripper explained. He opened his father's desk and pulled out some rolled maps.

"Wasn't Camelot in like . . . Cornwall or something? I remember a Cornwall," Buffy walked over to the desk, peering at the maps. The three of them looked up at her in surprise. "What?" she asked, offended. "I watched the movie. Lancelot was pretty."

"You're pretty," Ripper replied with a grin, pulling her to him and kissing her temple. "And I think you're right. Cornwall is the most cited source for Arthurian legend. There are a few discrepancies, of course. Some scholars who want to wave their historical willies around come up with new theories to get their name out there, but those who know anything . . . know to look at Cornwall." He pulled out a map of the region and spread it out onto the desk. Buffy maneuvered in front of him, getting a closer look at the map. Happily, he pressed up behind her, his arm falling around her waist and the other leaned against the top of the desk.

They examined the map, pointing out smudges that they thought might be a reference to Camelot, but only to find that they were just, in fact, smudges. Hope was beginning to fade, when Xander snapped his fingers. "I've got it. Merlin's hole!" he pointed to a tiny little drawing in the water beside a landform. "I would say if Merlin has a hole, we had better investigate, and that sounded way more terrible than I had originally thought it would be," he nodded confidently.

Ripper looked at the spot Xander had found. Sure enough, there was a little drawing of a cave with the scribbled text "Merlin's Hole" written above it. It sat beside another drawing of a ruined castle. "Tintagel," he murmured. "Hm. Well, that's . . . odd. Tintagel has been tourist attraction for years now. Surely somebody would have investigated that cave and found an old sword sitting in stone there by now."

"It might have some magic guarding it," Willow piped up. "Invisible to the ignorant eye and all that." That was plausible. Archaeologists, though loving the idea of secret buttons and riddles, weren't exactly instructed on the finer points of the mystical arts.

They looked at Buffy expectantly. "Well . . . it looks like we have our quest."

"We'll drive one of the cars there tomorrow morning," Ripper added. "I'll send Bryans out for some supplies. It's a bit of a drive." Good. Business was done. Did he get to snog now? Buffy slipped away from him before he could make any move, resuming her appreciative and hungry looks towards the weapons.

"Ah, Master Rupert," Bryans appeared at the door. "Your rooms have all been prepared. Dinner shall be served in a half hour." They dispersed after that. Willow and Xander went off to explore the home and their rooms. Ripper was rather curious to see what had become of his room since he'd up and grown up. Did he use his parents' room as his own now? Or one of the other guest rooms? He certainly hoped not. Heading upstairs, he walked along the hall until he reached its very end. Opening the door, he stepped into his room . . . and smiled.

Posters of rock bands still clung to the walls. His band equipment was huddled in a corner. The only real difference from what he knew was that there were more bookshelves filled with books, a much larger four-poster bed, and a closet full of tweed. The rest was him. "Alright, Giles," he nodded, hopping on his bed, "glad to see you didn't completely lose your touch."

As the urge for another cigarette arose, he popped on a patch and stared up at the ceiling. Home. He couldn't believe he was here, in the very place he had sworn to himself that he'd never return. It was different though. His father wasn't around. Nor was his grandmother. Had they both passed away? Or were they simply living elsewhere? Was he the only Giles left? The last of his line. The thoughts were troubling and making him feel things he didn't like to feel, so he quickly murmured a, "sod it" and rolled on his side, looking over at a shelf that still contained his collection of model fighter jets.

Reaching over, he picked up his model Gloster Meteor F.3 and ran his thumb lightly over a wing. How different his life would have been if he had signed up for the Royal Air Force. 'If you'd done that, you'd also never have met Buffy.' He sighed at that. For all the trouble this life was . . . Buffy more than made up for it. She was his beacon. Ripper knew he had nearly lost himself to darkness. Hell, even now it clung to his soul and mind. Buffy kept him from going too far. He needed her. He may not love the world or the people in it, but he didn't want to become a monster either. He was already a murderer . . .

"There you are." Speak of the devil. Buffy came in holding two fencing swords. She looked around the room curiously. "So, this is where my Watcher grew up. Very different from a Slayer's bedroom. Less stuffed animals. More . . . books." She jumped on his bed and looked at the plane he was holding. "You know, you could have mentioned to me that you were basically Sir Giles of Buckingham Palace," she teased. "This place is huge! I got lost trying to find the bathroom! And then I found out there are ten! On one floor alone!"

A small chuckle left him at that. "Yes. When your home is full of the elderly, you need to make sure there is an accessible loo within reach at all times." Buffy took the plane from him, inspecting it herself. He looked her over, the dread in his stomach dissipating as her light washed over him. Reaching his hand forward, he lightly placed it on the middle of her back, as she was laying on her tummy. "Have you seen your room?" he asked. He wasn't sure where Bryans would have placed her, but any room here was roughly the size of her and her mother's rooms combined back at her home.

"Mhm. Felt like a Princess the moment I went in. It has a fireplace. In my room. I am so making S'mores in there tonight," she grinned. Inspecting his plane, her brow furrowed. "I never asked you before . . . Why did you want to be a fighter pilot?"

"Hm?" Ripper lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, I just had some fanciful idea when I was young. Like any young child born in the 1950s, I was raised with a firm appreciation for the heroes of World War Two. I spent much of my youth going to functions with my father for veterans of the war. Many of them were pilots who told me their fantastic war stories. Soaring over war-torn earth, diving in to save the day at the last moment. I was . . . enthralled. I wanted to fly. I wanted to touch the clouds. Most of all, I wanted to be the hero." Ripper smirked at the irony. "I suppose I was a bit prone to fancy. I imagined myself swooping in to enemy-infested towns and cities and saving the innocent townsfolk. They'd pin medals on my chest and claim me Hero of England."

Buffy looked at him thoughtfully. "You wanted to be a hero."

Ripper felt the magnitude of her words. "The dreams of children, Buffy. That's before we understand all the red tape and lack of humanity in people. Before we understand that the universe has a plan for us and freewill is nothing but a ruse."

"I don't know about that," Buffy said. "And it's funny, because I wasn't exactly sold on the destiny thing either. But . . . you wanted to be a hero. And that's what you are. We just don't get medals for it," she added with a small smile.

"Or shiny fighter jets," Ripper grunted, but he leaned over and kissed her in quiet appreciation for her words.

"Mmm," she smiled as he pulled back. "Too bad. Can you imagine it? Shooting down stakes from one of those? It'd make the job a lot easier."

"Mhm." Ripper agreed, his mouth too busy to form words as it started kissing and suckling into her neck. His hand crept under her shirt, resting against the hot flesh of her back. He felt Buffy purr and shiver, and then quickly roll away.

"Ah, ah. Nope. Beds and-and kissing? I know where that leads. I came here for a reason, you know," she said, flushing.

"I bet you did," Ripper smirked wickedly, pushing himself up into a sitting position and leaning towards her. He knew her pleasure now. It was an addicting experience. A low hum came from his chest, and he steadily moved closer to her, sliding along the bed towards her.

"Not . . . not that," Buffy was quite a pink color now. She stumbled off of the bed and hurried over to the swords. "I had hoped you might want to train."

Ripper relaxed back on the bed, amused by her flustered state. She was adorable. "We can train if you want, yes. I know swords." Pushing himself up, he caught the one she tossed over to him and followed her out of his room. Ripper took the lead and brought them into the display room for medieval weapons and armor. Suits of armor lined the room, some holding weapons, all polished, a few were even dented. The walls were covered with swords, spears, javelins, maces and other assortments of medieval weaponry.

Taking out his fencing sword, he stretched and performed a few maneuvers to warm himself up. "Ready?" he asked, holding his sabre in the ready position. Buffy nodded. They stepped towards one another in unison, neither attacking at first. Ripper watched her form, keeping his eye out for tension. She seemed to be doing the same. They circled, two predators sniffing out the weakness in the other. Ripper playfully reached out and touched his sabre against hers, the sound clinging in the room. She was quick to draw back and twirled, bringing her sabre quickly in an attack to his back. Ripper moved his sabre to block, giving her a look of pleased surprise.

His turn now. He jabbed at her side, drawing her attention to her left, and as she moved to defend herself, he quickly twirled his wrist and attacked at her right instead. Buffy cartwheeled, kicking his blade away. Grunting in both approval and astonishment, he followed after her. Their blades met, quick taps and blocks. Buffy might have had held the upper hand in most physical attributes, but Ripper had been training with the sword for most of his life. If he could beat her at anything, it would be this.

And he was bloody determined to, too. When she flipped backwards, he charged with an attack, but she must have anticipated this, for during her flip, she grabbed his sabre with her shoes and wrenched it out of his grasp, throwing it behind her. His sabre embedded itself firmly in the wall behind her. She righted herself and pointed the tip of her sabre against his chest. They were both panting and hot. Buffy moved first. She dropped her sabre and jumped on him, knocking him down onto the floor. Their lips met furiously, the heat of a good fight charging them.

As she firmly straddled him, he grabbed at her shirt and back of her head, keeping her against him. The fencing had switched from swords to lips. A battle was really the only way to describe their furious snogging. Though Buffy kept him firmly down on the ground, Ripper was giving his all in dominating the kiss. She was quick to change maneuvers, however, and gave him a sharp grind with her hips, dragging her against him. Ripper released a sharp, surprised moan into her lips. Her teeth latched onto his lower lip in victory, nibbling teasingly. Ripper was entirely astounded by this woman. She left him completely breathless.

"Master Rupert, do stop fornicating. Dinner is served," came a snooty voice.

Their lips parted with a loud pop! and Ripper looked over to see Mrs. Marigold at the door. Groaning, he let his head fall back on the floor. This was killing him. Desire was dancing in his veins and heat trickling down his skin. Buffy looked quite pleased with herself. She got up happily and wrenched his sabre from the wall. "Come on, Rupey, it's time for dinner," Buffy teased.

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Ripper tossed her a half-heated glare. "You realize you're in for a spanking, right?"

"Not if . . . youdon'tcatchmefirst!" Buffy exclaimed and tore down the hallway.

"Bloody hell!" He shoved himself up and ran after her. He caught her in the end. They both pretended that she hadn't slowed down in order for him to catch her. So, he caught her. "HA!" He grabbed her around the waist and heaved her up over his shoulder. Buffy shrieked, not expecting to be picked up like a sack of potatoes. His hand came down and gave her a right two good spanks across her arse, to which she vociferously complained. "I'm sorry. Am I oppressing the Colonist?" he asked, carrying her in this manner all the way to the dining hall.

"Give me liberty! Or give me . . . more spanks," Buffy ended quietly, wiggling on his shoulder. Ripper chuckled and set her down once they reached the table.

"No spoiling the child, off you go. Eat your greens," he instructed her. Ripper plopped down onto his chair and ate with the others. Bryans had returned with their supplies after dinner, and they mapped out their journey before heading to bed.

"LIFE IS A HIGHWAAAAAAY!" Xander bellowed out in song, his head out the window of the speeding car. The radio was blasting, making it almost impossible to hear one another speak, but everyone could hear Xander. Buffy and Willow threw empty juice cartons and other odd bits at him to shut him up. "But I was just getting to the best part!" he complained, sitting properly in the backseat next to Willow. Ripper turned down the radio, much more relieved that he didn't have that vocal sore in his ears. "Are we there yet? This is taking forever," Xander groaned. "I hate being cooped up so long."

"This is nice. Just look outside at all of the English country," Willow told him. "It's so green!"

"It was green back in Sunnydale too, Willow," Xander pointed out, clearly unimpressed with what he was seeing.

"Yeah, but . . . this is English green," Willow countered.

"I'm still wigging over driving on the wrong side of the road," Buffy said from the passenger seat. She kept flinching whenever a car passed them. "How do you drive like this!?" she exclaimed at Ripper.

"Easily. It's you lot who got it all backwards. Typical Americans, always needing to be different," Ripper replied, pushing his foot down on the petal hard. They were soaring down the road. There was hardly ever any coppers on these country roads, so he didn't worry about letting the car go as much as it could give. Willow didn't seem to like that. She squeaked and made funny faces whenever the car surged forward quickly after a turn.

"Hm. Well, it's time for some new tuneage," Buffy declared and was about to pop in a CD . . . when Ripper noticed the name on it.

"Hold on. No. We are not listening to that," he protested. "There won't be any Spice Girls in this car, so long as I am driving," he said firmly.

"But why!? They're British!" Buffy defended them passionately. "And they're peppy! We need pep!"

"Buffy, I adore you, but no," Ripper stated. He wouldn't be caught dead with Spice Girls pouring out of his car. He was pretty sure that was a circle of Hell.

"Hmm," Buffy pouted. "This is grounds for divorce," she informed him. "Not sharing the CD player. I listen to your angry music. It's my turn now." Ripper glared at her. "Don't look at me like that. It's not going to work. Besides, if it's only intolerable while you're driving . . ." she trailed off.

"NO!" Willow said quickly. "I mean," she retracted quickly at Buffy's narrowed gaze. "It isn't . . . you don't have a license here, Buffy. And like you said! It's on the wrong side and all that. Not a good idea."

"No," Ripper said, and he slammed on the breaks, stopping the car. "I want to see this." He got out of the car, and Buffy eagerly followed suit. "My lady," he opened the door for her, smirking, and then got in the passenger side. Buffy took the helm and lurched forward, then stopped, then lurched forward again and kept going. Spice Girls started playing in the car. Xander sang more passionately than he probably should have.

Buffy was blasting down the road. Willow was holding onto the backseat for dear life. As the car went faster and faster, Ripper felt an adrenaline rush taking hold. Her turning left much to be desired, the abrupt angle she turned at nearly made Ripper hit his head against the window, but he laughed and urged her to go faster. Buffy was quite enjoying herself as well, singing to her music and using that Slayer strength to push down the petal. Ripper opened up a window and stuck his torso outside, cheering. "Woooooooooo!" he shouted, his hair a mess by the wind.

Then he noticed something odd. A car was coming up from behind them. It wouldn't have been odd if they weren't pushing well past the speed limit. "Uh, everyone," he pushed himself back into the car, "I think we've found ourselves a scuffle." Sure enough, the car drew up alongside of them, and a vampire leaned out from passenger side, front and back. They had swords in their hands and were trying to jab it through the windows at them. "Buffy, speed up!" he called to her.

Buffy did so, but the vampires met them pace-for-pace. One of the swords managed to shatter the backseat window where Xander sat, but he dodged the blade just in time. "Weapons!" Buffy exclaimed. Willow dove for the duffle bag and pulled out swords of their own. Xander quickly took one and hit the other vampire's sword away. "Ripper?" Buffy asked, trying to disrupt the vampires from managing to pierce into the windows again.

"None of these weapons are going to do them any harm," Ripper said, trying to think quickly. Xander still struggled with the vampire, the both of them hanging half-way out of the window and trading blows. The other vampire was still trying to stab at Buffy. "There is one thing we haven't tried. Holy water. It may not stop them, but if we can slow them down enough . . ."

"On it. Take the wheel," Buffy said. Ripper slid himself under her, momentarily placing her on his lap as he replaced her feet and hands on the petals and wheel. "Got it?" At Ripper's affirmative grunt, she let go and crawled to the passenger's seat. "Water bombs, Willow. Arm me." With the grenades in hand, Buffy crawled out of the passenger side window and stood on the top of the car. Ripper tried to keep the car as smooth as possible. She waited, and then jumped onto the vampires' car. Immediately, a few swords started driving up through the roof, trying to get her. She dodged quickly, looking quite like the cat.

"Come on, Buffy," Ripper murmured, hating that he felt rather useless at the moment. "Willow, you got anything?" he asked her.

"I mean . . . I might be able to damage the car, but it will take its toll. I might not be of much use, if we need a big spell to unlock Merlin's Cave," Willow said.

Ripper chewed his lip. "Do what you can."

Willow nodded and climbed out of her window as well, sitting atop the car. "Buffy!" she called over to her friend, who was still jumping and dodging. "Throw them in! I'll increase the surface area, but you'll need to get back over her right after!" Buffy nodded and cartwheeled to the front of the car. She punched a hole in the windshield and then threw the Holy Water grenades inside. As she jumped back to their car, Willow tapped into her magicks. The bombs exploded, and she quadrupled the size, creating a hurricane of Holy Water within the car.

As Buffy landed beside Willow, the vampires' car spun out of control. It ran into a ditch and stopped with a loud CRASH! Ripper looked out of his rearview window, but he didn't see anyone crawl out of the car. Slowing his own down, he stopped carefully, so Buffy and Willow could get back in. Once they were, he hurried them forward once more. "Do you think they're dead?" Xander asked, patting Willow congratulatory on the back.

"No," Ripper shook his head. "Only Excalibur can truly kill them. If anything, they're just too hurt to move right now. They'll heal, and then be after us again. We need to get that sword," he finished in a whisper. Looking over at Buffy, he saw her holding her hand. "You alright there, love?" he asked in concern, reaching for her.

"I'm okay," she said, showing him her hand. It was a bit cut up from her punching into the windshield. "Once I get the glass out, I'll heal pretty quickly, too," she said.

Ripper brought her injured hand to his lips and gently kissed over her wrist. "You did well, love," he smiled at her. "And you too, Willow," he added louder, looking in the mirror at her. "Hurricane-in-a-car? Bloody nice." Willow beamed, quite pleased with herself.

"Hey! I did stuff, too!" Xander pouted. "Some recognition would be appreciated."

"You were an excellent distraction, Xan," Willow told him. "Buffy and I would have had a difficult time on the roof if you hadn't kept that one vampire busy." This pleased Xander enough. He nodded and held the sword in a manner he probably thought looked manly and knightly.

The rest of the drive was uneventful, thankfully. They arrived at the Tintagel Castle, Ripper parking the car in the tourist area, and they joined up with the group being taken into the Castle's ruins. As their guide droned on and on about the history, they lingered in the back. It was difficult to sneak away, as there weren't very many places to hide among the ruins. When they reached the cliff edge, the guide paused. "Down below is a sea cave we call Merlin's Cave," she explained. "The cave completely passes through Tintagel Island to Tintagel Haven . . ."

Ripper turned to the others. "We're going to have to climb down. I'll work on the guide. You lot head over there." He made his way to the front of the tour group, focusing on the guide. He locked eyes with her and briefly merged their minds. She was easy to hypnotize and influence. All he had to do was extract the image of the four of them from her mind, and then suggest she take everyone else to another part of the castle. Ripper remained as the guide ushered everyone away, seemingly normal. He withdrew from her mind and headed for the others.

"We have a bit of a problem," Buffy said when he reached them. "The stairs are washed away at the bottom. We're going to have to climb down those boulders," she pointed to a large rock that rested diagonally against the beach below. The stairs disappeared a few feet from the boulder, meaning they'd have to jump the gap. "We still have some time before high tide, right?"

"If we hurry," Willow added.

"Let's get going then," Ripper led the way, testing each step as he descended. His hand pressed against the rocky surface, nails digging in now and then when his feet slipped on a slimy step. The sea crashed against the cliff side below them, a few drops of water even reaching up to them and splattering their clothes and skin. Buffy held onto the back of his shirt with one hand, Willow holding Buffy's shirt, and Xander holding Willow's shirt. When they reached the gap, Ripper braced, and then jumped over it, landing on the boulder. One of his feet slipped on the surface, but he caught himself and wiped his forehead. "Watch the boulder. It's slippery!" he called back to them.

Crouching down, he scuttled down the boulder towards the beach, pausing to find footholds sturdy enough. Eventually, he reached the beach, looking over at the opening of the cave. The water was still low, about ankle-deep. One-by-one, the others reached the beach, and they made for the opening. "Ick," Buffy complained once they started wading through the water. "I did not wear the right shoes for this. You feel anything, Willow?"

Willow, who had taken the lead, was running her hand over the cave wall. "There's something here. Further in. I can sense it." She paused. "It's . . . old."

Ripper felt a trace of it as well. It made goosebumps rise on his skin. He could only imagine what it did to Willow. They walked deeper and deeper into the cave, trying not to trip. Suddenly, Willow stopped them. "It's here." Her hand pressed into the cave wall. "As I thought, the entrance is hidden by magic."

"Can you get past it?" Buffy asked, looking over the cave wall.

"Yeah . . . but it's going to require a lot of energy. I might need help getting out of here," she said.

"We've got your back," Xander assured her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Let's see what kind of nasty we have in store behind door number one."

Pressing both of her hands against the rock surface, Willow closed her eyes. Ripper felt the air around them start to tingle. She was reaching into the environment, into the earth and air. The magicks became so powerful, he could almost taste it on his tongue. The cave started to shake, the ground tremble. The wall before them started to shudder and sink down into a slit in the ground. A large room was revealed to them. Willow stumbled once the rock was moved, nearly fainting, but Xander caught her and steadied her. "I'll carry her," Xander said, hoisting her up into his arms. They walked into the room, Xander setting Willow down on a protruding rock above the water level.

A sudden line of fire ran across the room, along the walls, lighting it up. With the room illuminated, they were able to see it—a sword embedded deep into a stone covered in runes. "Guess I'm up," Buffy sighed, making her way to the pedestal. She reached for it, hesitating, and then pressed her palm to the hilt. The room shook, the tremors so violent, it had Ripper fighting to keep his feet. The water level was rising as another slab of rock wall opened up. This opening was far larger, and water came rushing out of it. That was not all that rushed forward.

What could only be described as a three-headed Loch Ness Monster came roaring at them. There wasn't enough water for it to submerge underwater, but it was fast in what little water there was. Its serpentine body shot forward, heading for Buffy. Quickly, she pulled Excalibur from the stone and jumped away, just as a head came forward, long, needle-like teeth bared. "We're fighting the Loch Ness Monster. Or . . . the Loch Ness Monster's child or . . . or ancestor! Bloody brilliant!" Ripper beamed. But his excitement quickly turned into apprehension as one of those big heads turned toward him. "Right." Fire erupted in his palms, and he shot a fireball at the head. The monster quickly dodged, roaring in anger.

"This wouldn't be the 'proving we're worthy' part, would it?" Xander asked, dodging from side-to-side as the third head kept darting for him. "Because I'm pretty sure Buffy is supposed to do this alone." He grabbed a wet rock and threw it at the head. It struck, and the monster snarled in pain and rage. Xander gulped and rushed to the side, away from it.

Buffy was battling with her own monster head. She hit it in the teeth when it came charging back, the sword clanging loudly against the sharp teeth. That seemed to stun the monster, and Buffy took advantage, driving the sword through the monster's head. Black blood gushed from the wound, staining the water. "See? It's not so bad," Buffy panted, wiping her forehead.

"Yeah, says the one who has a weapon. I'm basically caveman against T-Rex right now," Xander grunted.

Willow's weak voice was heard then. "Xander . . . here," she had managed to teleport a crossbow from their weapons stash into the cave.

Xander seized it gratefully. "Willow, you are a savior." Quickly, he spun on the head that kept trying to eat him. It was charging again, its large mouth open wide. Xander held the crossbow out, waiting . . . waiting . . . he could smell the fish-breath engulf him, the heat . . . and then finally fired. The bolt shot forward through the top of the monster's mouth and into its brain, killing it instantly. It dropped right at his feet.

Ripper, meanwhile, was still tossing fireballs at his head. With its two other heads dead, it was having a difficult time moving, but still managed to dodge his attacks. Growing irritated, Ripper changed tactics. He focused on the flame in his hand, extending it until it became a long whip. Though he felt the heat from the flames, it did not burn him. Ripper cracked the whip over his head, and then slashed at the monster. It dodged it once, but then Ripper swung his arm down, and the whip wrapped itself around the monster's neck. The monster screamed as the fire burned into it, thrashing. Ripper pulled the whip made of fire until he squeezed right the neck, slicing the head right off, leaving nothing but a cauterized stump behind.

The whip vanished as he released the spell. That was new, and the spell had been tiring. He wasn't nearly as exhausted as Willow though, who weakly applauded them. "Good job, guys. Knew you had it in you," she whispered. "Is it nap time now?"

Buffy looked at Excalibur, glyphs written into the blade seeming to shimmer. Ripper wondered if she could feel its power . . . and he wondered what that power felt like. She swung it once, and the blade seemed to almost give a harmonic song as it sliced through the air. "It's definitely bedtime for someone," she said, a fierce determination in her eye.

The war had begun.