Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, Joss Wheedon, and JRR Tolkien

"Team Alpha – Assault"

Chapter 26

"The training of the new strike teams is going well," Harry reported, "Mordor is the perfect place to practice that magic, and the teams can help out with the landscaping at the same time."

"Illyria is really sticking to her word too, the clinics that she's opened in the old Wolfram and Hart medical facilities have helped a lot of people, to say nothing of the research grants that have been made," Buffy added.

"I still can't believe I have a residence in Mordor," Harry said, shaking his head.

"It does take some getting used to," Buffy admitted, "has Ron forgiven you and Draco yet?"

"Mostly, thankfully he's so busy integrating the werewolves into the teams that he doesn't have time to dwell on it. The quality of the food there helps too. What about Gabby?"

"She really doesn't seem too interested in the place; she's totally absorbed in learning all about winemaking. Dad is thrilled."

"Hard to believe it's been nearly a year though, doesn't seem that long ago that we were being carried through the sky by Veela. Illyria and Fred are getting set for quite a celebration. Spike says the orcs can't believe they're going to be guests rather than servants," he added.

"Giles is taking a hand in that too. More of his secret planning."

Giles lifted the phone from his desk, and dialed a number from his private phone listings. After a few rings, he heard a familiar voice mumbling on the other end.

"Ozzy! Ripper here!" he said into the instrument. "Listen, get the lads back together and warmed up, I have got the gig you've waited your entire life for! No, I won't tell you on the phone, you'll hang up. Look, grab Sharon and get your arse to Orly as soon as you can. I'll have a car there for you; just let me know when you'll arrive."

"All right, fine, I'll pay for the tickets. Get a move on would you? Right, goodbye then."

"I really wish she would join one of the teams," Buffy told Hermione when she had finished the report from Simone Belvoir, who routinely evaluated all of the Slayers. "She's median in strength for a Slayer, but her speed and endurance are right off the charts."

"She has no taste for the kill," Faith put in, "besides, Slayers we've got, but nobody else can reach the werewolves like she can. I just heard she got another pack to agree to take the wolfsbane potion that one of the new labs developed. They can lead a pretty normal life with that stuff, and their senses are a real asset to the teams."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Buffy called. The door opened and a tall woman entered, moving with an easy grace that mesmerized the others in the meeting room. She seemed wholly unaware of the effect that she had on them. She handed a folder to Buffy.

"Here are the names of the new pack," she said, "I've highlighted the ones who have expressed an interest in joining a strike team. Luna says they will fit in quite nicely."

"Great, thanks," Harry spoke up, "how is Luna, by the way? I haven't seen her in a while."

"Quite well, thank you," she answered with a smile, "although she's working herself into a tizzy with preparations for my birthday. Won't tell me a thing, and won't let me lift a finger. You're all coming, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't miss it," promised Hermione, "Fleur is looking forward to it as well."

"Great then, I'll see you there," she smiled and left the room, walking down the long hall to her office, which was right by Luna's.

"They make quite a pair, she and Luna," Harry commented.

"Sure do," agreed Faith, "what with her black hair and Luna's blonde with that wicked silver streak in it."

"To say nothing of their eyes," Hermione added, "Luna's china blue and her… they kind of remind me of Madam Hooch's eyes."

"A bit," allowed Harry, "not really hawk's eyes though, different than that." Hermione nodded.

"She reminds me of someone," Faith said, "just can't quite put my finger on it."

The eyes in question were at that moment reading the gold lettering on the door of their owner's office. She never failed to get a surge of pride and satisfaction from the sight.

"United Ministries- Werewolf Liaison"

"Lupada Alces"

"Welcome to our home," Luna greeted the new arrivals, "I'm so glad you could come, 'Pada is very excited."

The guests followed Luna through the house to the garden out back, where there were tables of refreshments. The plants sparkled with sprites and fairies, there was music playing softly, and Spike was tending bar.

"Champagne all 'round!" he called out. "Giles couldn't make it, but he sent the good stuff, so I call that a win. Mimosa, Faith?"

"Sure thing, and throw some fruit in it will you? I'm feeling girly."

The evening was a very relaxed gathering of good friends, and time passed in a blur of good-natured ribbing and warm feelings. It was the sort of evening that one treasures for a long time.

"How about some cake?" Ron called out; apparently he required something to wash down the school of shrimp he had eaten.

"Presents first," Luna said, and she escorted Lupada to a chair placed especially for her and brought her her gifts. Each was properly appreciated, large or small, even the dragonhide outfit that Buffy gave her. Buffy still hoped to get Lupada on a team, and Lupada knew quite well that this was a hint. But there was no doubt that it would look good on her.

"Thank you all so much!" Lupada told her guests. "You've all made me feel so loved, and I also want to thank you for being such good people to work with. It's nice to be part of something."

"One more present," Luna said, "just a moment." Luna vanished into the house, and in a moment a gangly pup with absolutely enormous paws came galumphing into the garden.

"He's beautiful!" cried Lupada as she dropped to her knees and beckoned to him. The puppy stood with his front feet on her shoulders and proceeded to enthusiastically wash her face while Lupada giggled. Fleur paled, but only Hermione and Luna noticed. They exchanged concerned glances. Luna of course knew precisely what was up, and Hermione could tell that the sight of the pup was distressing to Fleur.

"Why, this mark on his head is just like my birthmark, look!" Lupada opened a couple buttons on her shirt and spread the material to reveal a heart-shaped mark on the fair skin.

"Imagine that," said Hermione softly.

"Look at the size of those feet," remarked Harry. "I get the feeling he's going to make Fang look like a Yorkshire Terrier."

"He's a bit unusual," Luna admitted, "but his sire is quite gentle."

"What shall I call him?" Lupada asked, and there followed suggestions ranging from "Valentino" to "Cerberus." Ron held out for "Fluffy", but he may have been influenced by the extremely wet kiss he had received. Meanwhile the pup was making the rounds of all of his new friends, greeting each of them with exuberance, seeming positively delighted to be in such company, until he came to Fleur. He skidded to a halt before her, looked beseechingly into her eyes, and then lowered his head. Fleur looked at the mark between his eyes, and then at the gap in Lupada's blouse, and her countenance cleared, and the smile that came to her face set the sprites and fairies singing.

"There is but one name fit for such a marvelous creature," Fleur said firmly, and she laid her hand softly on his head. "Esprit du coeur." " 'Spirit' should serve for daily use." Hermione wept silent tears of joy as Fleur hugged Spirit and the pup's eyes lit with happiness.

So "Spirit" he was, and he became a familiar sight in the halls of the Ministry and the haunts of the werewolves as he joined with Lupada in bringing his cousins in from the cold.

One year to the day in the past…

"What is this sphere, Simone?" asked a healer.

"Magic, Madam Lovegood said. Pay attention now, this wound is serious."

"This wound is fatal," countered Healer Smythe, "she has no pulse and she isn't breathing."

"She is, however, healing," countered Simone, "see for yourself." The healers gazed in wonder as the terrible wound on her throat visibly closed, the flesh shimmering oddly. "Apparently there are still things to learn about Slayers," Simone said, "I've never had her in before, any of you know her?" None of them did.

"She couldn't have been born today," one of the healers said, "we need her history."

"And I say that she is history," insisted Smythe, who was still trying to get a pulse.

"That's all that we can do for the wound, only one thing left," Simone said, roundly ignoring Smythe. Simone guided the silver sphere to a place just above her patient's heart, and gently forced it down until it contacted her skin. For a moment nothing happened, and then the sphere collapsed liquidly, flowed over the woman's body, and vanished into her skin.

"I've got a pulse!" gasped Smythe.

"Pupils are reactive. I've never seen eyes like this before, gorgeous yellow-gold color, vaguely Asian in shape though," the other healer said.

Simone laid her hand between the woman's breasts, and felt the strong, regular thumping of a Slayer's heart, a rhythm she knew better than the beat of her own.

"Let's get her into a bed," Simone ordered, "interesting birthmark. Funny I didn't notice it before."

The celebration of the liberation of Mordor was a huge success. Samath Naur proved to have marvelous acoustics, and the look of the place had Black Sabbath nearly swooning in delight. They had also been quite impressed by the orcs, who had proven to be great roadies, and by Rathspite, who was a natural on drums. So taken was the band's drummer with Rathspite that he had invited him back to LA for a visit during the days before the concert. The orc had returned shaken, declaring LA, "the scariest fekkin' place I ever seen."

The band made a gift of their equipment to the people of Mordor in gratitude for their overwhelming reception, and Rathspite set about forming the first metal band in Middle-earth.

"Spike me lad," he had asked, "we needs a manager and a singer. Orcs has rhythm, right enough, but so far none of us can sing a lick and we don't have much business experience."

"I can help you out, first thing you need is a catchy name," Spike told him.

At the celebration the next year, the opening act for Black Sabbath, was "Ratshit and the Vamps", with Spike out front with his game face on. They were a huge hit, but declined an offer to tour with the boys back on earth.

"Too bad Fleur missed this," Faith mused as she cuddled up to Hermione in the suite that had become their apartment in Barad-dur'.

"She said that she had seen quite enough of Middle-earth to suit her," answered Hermione. "Besides, someone had to stay and take care of Spirit. Lupada can't exactly take him to a kennel."

"I'll say, he's a sweetheart, but he's awfully big. Luna seemed to think folks over here would be scared of him."

"I believe Luna is right," Hermione agreed, "now, is your hand sliding up my thigh for a reason, or is it just wandering?" Faith growled deep in her throat, and proved that her hand indeed had a plan.

"The celebration was wonderful, Illyria," Luna told her upon entering Illyria's suite.

"Thank you, it was well-earned, everyone has worked very hard this year," she answered. "So tell me, have I passed the test?"

"So far, yes," answered Luna, the look on her face was much warmer than her words.

"You were right you know," Illyria admitted, "having friends and working together to build something is much more rewarding than being worshipped."

"I'm glad that you see that," Luna said with a smile.

"But don't you miss the power?" Illyria asked her.

"Usually no, and it is there if I need it, just a matter of gathering it. I try never to need it though, even if sometimes terrible things happen. Bad is a part of life."

"I knew that you were here when I confronted the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart, but I would have done the same thing if you hadn't been."

"I am happy to hear that."

"What would you have done, had I reverted to my old ways?" Luna held out her cupped hands for Illyria to peer into, like a small bowl. Within the bowl was blackness, studded with countless points of light.

"I would have scattered your essence throughout all of these dimensions," Luna said plainly. "The evil that men may do is neither my fault, nor my responsibility. You however, are." Luna turned to leave, but looked back from the doorway. "I am proud of you," she said, and then she was gone.

Illyria felt tears spilling from her eyes, she was still unused to this, and she took a minute to explore the sensations it caused. "Thank you, mother," she whispered.