A/N; Finally! It's done! Not the fic, but this chapter! Damn, that was hard to write! And this time I can't even blame a lack of reviews, since I've gotten such wonderful response from all you people! All I can say is that my other, less exciting life demanded my attention, and I couldn't find the time or energy to write. I'm so, so sorry! Please forgive me?

This may also be the shortest chapter yet, but it is over the 2000-word limit I put up on myself, I promise. I'll try to hurry up with chapter 22, but this time I can't make any promises... Real Life is a Bitch right now.

Lizzin, my darling, I hope you are still with me. To my most loyal reviewer, this chapter is for you. Again.

"What the hell is going on?!" Jones shouted the question, and was satisfied to see the other man start a little. Clearly he'd forgotten he was there.

Spike cursed under his breath. He actually had forgotten he was there, and that was the kind of amateurish mistake he'd grown out of over a century ago, or at least he'd thought so.

"The Bedlam-reject with the sword is unconscious. Me and Buffy got him when you and the girls had split the scene."

Jones stared at him. "Who the hell is Buffy?!"

***

Fuck!

Amateurish mistake number two; shot Buffy's cover identity to hell. What was wrong with him today?

"Buffy is Anne. Anne is Buffy. It's a... nickname." he tried to cover his slip-up, hoping that the policeman was too shocked and tired to delve into it further.

He was half right. Jones was very aware that he'd just got fed a half-lie, but right now he was more concerned with the sword-wielding murderer he'd just fled from. He filed the name 'Buffy' under 'things to investigate further' in the file-cabinet in his head and decided he would ask the lady herself about it when he saw her next. Speaking of whom...

"Where is she? Why isn't she with you?" he paled visibly when he finally connected the dots and the implication of Spikes earlier statement sunk in. "Did you leave her back there with him?"

"Believe me, Anne can take care of herself. If he wakes up she'll just put him out again." There was more bravado in Spikes voice than he actually felt. He wasn't at all comfortable with leaving Buffy behind with the psycho, but she'd told him to go get Dawn and Heather, and he couldn't say no to her. Besides, she actually could take care of herself, he knew that better then anyone.

"You're telling me you left her back there with the guy that left a decapitated body in her garden, alone with an injured girl??" Jones turned on his heel and started jogging back the way he'd come from at the same time as he started dialling his phone again to request backup. He didn't spare a glance behind him when he hurried away.

Spike sighed and reluctantly handed Heather over to Dawn again. "Do you have your cell on you, nib?" he asked her, and was relieved when she nodded. "Good, then call the watcher and tell him what happened. I'm going back to Buffy. I really don't want you or Heather anywhere near the loon with the sword, but for now you'd better stick close to me in case he's not working alone, okay? Get Giles to pick you up as soon as possible." She nodded again and he smiled at her. She fished her cellphone out of her pocket and managed to call Giles while she and Spike hurried after the policeman to get back to Buffy and poor Rona.

***

When Jones at last got a glimpse of the blonde woman he'd been looking for in the distance the ambulance was already there and just about to lift the injured girl onto the stretcher. There was another body on the ground, that of a man. The man responsible for the state of the unconscious woman currently being lifted into the ambulance.

Anne was hovering over the prone form on the ground while one of the paramedics checked him over. She divided her attention between the fallen man and the girl. The sword war nowhere in sight, a fact that both unnerved him and filled him with relief. He'd made his phone call already, so now he walked cautiously towards the blonde woman and the ambulance.

Spike and Dawn arrived just then, having hurried after the frazzled Jones. Spike had been anxious to get back to Buffy, to see if she really was all right after leaving her with the, albeit unconscious, homicidal maniac. Seeing that she indeed was okay and that the man they'd fought was still out for the count he heaved a sigh of relief and stopped in his tracks. He turned towards Dawn and told her to stay put and in his line of sight. When she nodded he turned again and hurried towards Buffy.

Buffy smiled at him when he came towards her, but he could see how troubled she was by looking into her eyes. Before he could ask her about it she answered his unspoken question.

"I know him, Spike." she said and indicated the man on the ground. "His name is Paul Horner, and he works for the council. He's a watcher, Spike."

The way she said his name, twice, told him she was really shaken by this, and he could do little more than offering her comfort by taking her in his arms. She allowed him to hold her for a few precious seconds before she disentangled herself. She gave him a smile so she wouldn't hurt his feelings, then she started looking around for Dawn and Heather. When she spotted them she asked Spike to stay and watch over Paul while she went over to her sister and daughter. She only managed a few steps in their direction before she was stopped by sergeant Jones.

"What happened?" The question was clipped and his voice was terse. In that moment she felt really sorry for him.

"Look...." She softly touched his arm and her voice was laced with sympathy. "Just let me get my daughter and my sister, then when your boss comes here I promise I'll answer any questions you've got the best I can. Okay?"

The sincere look on her face made his shoulders slump a little. "You're not leaving my sight until then, neither you or William. Is that clear?"

"Sure, all right. Just... let me get to my baby now." It wasn't a request, and it didn't even cross his mind to stop her. She walked around him, and hurried towards Dawn and Heather. Jones continued straight ahead towards Spike and the fallen swordsman. The one thought in his head at that moment was; 'huh... I really didn't think it would take less than three days to solve these murders'.

Something felt very wrong.

***

Time flew by, and before anyone could really register exactly what had happened, six people were sitting in a hospital waiting room, all of them worried and wary of each other.

Rona was in surgery, and the swordsman had still not woken up, something Buffy was shamefully proud of. When she knocked someone out, they sure stayed out. She only hoped she hadn't caused any major brain injury. He needed to be somewhat lucid when they questioned him.

Giles was in shock. He couldn't believe it was Paul that had attacked Rona, that the young watcher he'd seriously considered to be his successor in the council was the homicidal maniac that had left two headless and one mutilated corpse in his wake. If he hadn't seen the poor Bed and Breakfast owner with his own eyes he would have been in complete denial, but he had seen the poor woman. Paul had sliced her vertically from throat to navel, and all the parts of her that should have been hidden from view were spilled on the floor instead. There had been guts and blood everywhere.

Giles had been at the scene less than eight minutes after Dawn had called him, and he had followed the ambulance to the hospital with Dawn, Heather and Spike as passengers. Buffy had volunteered to go with Rona, so they had met up with her in the waiting room.

It ad taken some persuasion to make Jones agree too let Buffy ride in the ambulance, since he'd clearly told her not to get out of his sight. Giles had stepped in and a reluctant Jones had called Barnaby and asked him to meet them at the hospital, which he had agreed to do.

So now, here they were; Spike, Buffy, Dawn, Giles and Jones. Heather was perched on Buffy's lap. There were also two uniformed policemen in the waiting room, and yet another two in Paul's room, waiting for him to wake up. Jones was waiting for Barnaby to arrive, itching to get some answers from the quiet people around him. E had trouble sitting still, his hands fidgeting in his lap and his eyes darting around the room.

When Tom Barnaby so finally entered the waiting room he was met with more or less discreet groans from all but Jones, who heaved a relieved sigh.

***

When Barnaby had gotten the call, he'd first been to floored to think straight. Ten minutes ago he'd been desperate for any new development in this case, and even slumped so low as to call Brenda Packard for help. Then Jones calls him and tells him he's got the killer in the hospital, out of the blue, just like that. The most perplexing and infuriating case he'd had in recent memory had been solved far too easily.

Something wasn't right here.

He'd been at home when he'd heard the news, and to his wife's resigned disappointment he had run out in the middle of dinner (yet again!) and hurried towards the hospital, making phone calls to his colleagues from the car. He became more and more confused by the minute.

Of course he heard the groans the minute he entered the waiting room, but he didn't acknowledge them as he turned directly towards Jones, who'd actually been there when the perpetrator had been caught, and he was the only one he could count on to tell him the entire truth.

Giles witnessed the encounter between the DCI and the sergeant, and sighed to himself when they disappeared into an adjoining room for some privacy. He had run out of options. When he had the chance to speak to Barnaby again, he would have to tell him the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. He could only hope the policeman would have an open mind when it came to vampires, demons and the forces of darkness. And he really, really didn't want to, but he had a uncomfortable feeling that he would have to accept help from Spike... it would probably require a demonstration to make the poor man believe in the unbelievable.

***

Of course she was annoyed that her handy puppet had failed in his attempt to apprehend the child, but it really wasn't that bad. If you fail once, try and try again, simple as that. There was still time. Unfortunately, the closest person she had the power to control were currently residing in London, and she would need at least a couple of days to build up to the amount of control she would need to make the new tool to do her bidding. But no matter. She was so close now that she could taste her freedom, and nothing would be allowed to come in her way.

It didn't matter what happened to the watcher from now on. They could throw him an a dungeon to rot for all she cared. He was guilty of murder after all, she thought with what would have been a wicked smirk, if she'd in fact had been in possession of a mouth to smirk with at the moment. Time to start working on that.

The person she had chosen to be her next servant was fortunately currently sleeping, and it was the work of moments to establish her essence within the unconscious mind. As was the matter with Paul before her, the poor girl would have absolutely no memory of her actions while she was steered by the invading power.

Two days. She would need two days, and then she would strike again. And this time, nothing would go wrong. This time, she wouldn't be as clumsy or ill prepared.

This time, she would have a plan of action.