Disclaimi Addendum:

Harry Turtledove's Worldwar and Colonization series of books, and the ginger-addicted dino-men belong to him, not me.

Likewise, I don't own the universe Buffy and Willow have ended up in now. Mega-kudos to anyone who can guess where they've ended up with the scant clues given.

Dave Lister and Arnold Rimmer make their appearances courtesy of Red Dwarf, the Grant Naylor coalition and the BBC. I don't own the BBC, no-one does. I don't have a TV licence either.

A/N:

This chapter is brought to you by fatigue... your old friend and mine! Any mistakes, grammatical errors, inaccuracies, outright absurdities, obvious plotholes, typos and suchlike are entirely my fault and I apologise in advance. I also greatly appreciate those who point such things out to me so that I can fix them. :) The reason for the fatigue? I shall explain...

On Friday I had exactly 1,347 words of this written, approximately four hundred of which were one-or-two sentence descriptions of scenes. I haven't slept since, so if this author's note (and chapter) seem a little sketchy, blame it on sleep deprivation. And the river of coffee... We love coffee...

I hope you enjoy the plot twists, turns and surprises contained in this chapter.

Cogito Ergo Sum, Part 2: Hic Jacet Sepultus Qetesh
Latin Translation:
Here Lies Buried Qetesh

Contrary to the rumours he had carefully fostered over the millennia, Ba'al was not a Goa'uld who enjoyed killing for the sake of killing, especially when he had no sarcophagus to revive his victim. In fact, rather than dispatch of Cyril Leighton himself, he delegated one of the Tau'ri lackeys that surrounded him on Earth to do the deed on his behalf, retreating to his laboratory to review the information he had garnered on the Watcher's Council and the girls they guarded. He rationalised his decision by telling himself that he needed to prepare a worst-case scenario in case the Council somehow traced Leighton's abduction and murder to him, but he knew that it was highly unlikely that would ever happen. He also wanted to try to identify another weak link in their organisation to exploit. Perhaps someone else would be more forthcoming that Cyril Leighton had been.

It was in his laboratory that the minion tasked to kill Cyril Leighton found him. He hovered in the doorway, disturbing Ba'al's equilibrium until the Goa'uld looked up, his glowing eyes signalling his displeasure. Aggravatingly, the man didn't flinch, too busy scratching one armpit to care about his employer's displeasure. At the back of his advanced mind Ba'al noted the man's name, Dave Lister he believed, as the man cautiously sniffed his fingernails before approaching.

"What is it?" Ba'al demanded to know.

"Uhh..." said Lister, scratching his dreadlocked head. "You might want to come take a look."

l

"Your friend has taken ill."

Daniel looked up from his menu at the waiter still hovering by their table, concern and unease written across his face. It took a few minutes for the man's words to sink in and as they did, Daniel felt panic rising in his chest, tightening it.

"What?" asked Daniel, straightening. "Where is she?"

"Um... she was escorted outside by another gentleman," the waiter admitted with the barest hint of reluctance.

Daniel had dropped his napkin and menu on the table and was out of his chair by the time the waiter had finished speaking. He quickly headed for the door, his heart pounding in his chest. At the forefront of his mind was the thought that the SGC had many enemies, many of whom would jump at the chance to study a former Goa'uld host, especially one who was so loosely attached to the program. Vala's assignment to SG-1 had yet to be announced, at his request, and he was suddenly terrified that he might have left her vulnerable for a moment longer than necessary.

Outside, he looked in vain for her, but the only trace of Vala was the flower she'd been wearing in her hair, lying abandoned on the floor. Daniel gently scooped the fragile flower up, cradling it in his hand as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with the other. Tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear, he scanned the dark night for any sign of her, absent-mindedly stroking the soft bloom with one finger as he waited for General Landry to pick up.

l

Cyril Leighton was a robot. Ba'al had never seen anything like it before. He stared at the corpse in front of him, marvelling at the seamless way his electronic circuitry melded into organic. He even had a heart, nestled in a steel cradle that sent wires through the organ. It was Tau'ri ingenuity at its most inventive, and almost a miracle considering Earth's pitiful technological level.

"Tell me again, what happened?" ordered Ba'al.

"After we dispatched of the prisoner, sir, as per your orders," Lister's constant companion, Arnold Rimmer reported officiously, "His body sort of shimmered strangely..."

"It was dead weird," Lister added from his position in the doorway. He refused to come any closer. The dead robot was giving him the creeps. He was convinced that it was somehow staring at him through its metal faceplate.

Rimmer glared at him before pointedly continuing, "As I was saying, sir, the gentleman shimmered strangely and then turned into the washing machine cum human cum science exhibit you see before you. Sir," he added after a moment's thoughtful pause, throwing Ba'al a snappy salute for good measure.

"That's when he made me come get you," Lister said helpfully from the doorway, earning another glare from Rimmer that he returned with a too-innocent look.

Ba'al stared at the two men with incredulity, wondering how he had come to have two such incompetents in his employ.

"Take it to my laboratory," he said wearily. "I will study it in detail there."

l

For once, no-one bugged Faith for stories about Earth before they went to bed. The slayers were exhausted. They weren't aware of it, but most of them were approaching seventy-two hours without sleep and those that had managed to snatch a few hours here and there weren't in much better shape. The only one of them who looked halfway awake was Elifa, so Faith didn't feel too guilty about asking her to take the first watch.

She could have relied on the other Cimmerians to keep a lookout posted to guard against attack through the night but most of them were just as tired as the slayers, having spent the last night racing to reach the Stargate and abandon their own planet to the Ori. It was far more likely that they would tumble into their new beds and spent the night in blissful unconsciousness. Faith wished that she could do the same, but she'd promised to take the second watch. Elifa hadn't looked too happy about her assignment, but she hadn't complained, slinking out of the back door without a backwards look.

Jem had fallen asleep in his stew, and although it had been Kay who'd gently plucked his head from the bowl and wiped his face, laying it tenderly back down on the table, it was Mallie who carried him up to bed. Faith waited in the hallway to make sure she left his room for her own and then opened the door Kay had pointed out to her and tumbled into the bed inside without so much as a glance around her room. She was asleep within seconds.

l

For the very first time since it had opened, Il Fiore Bianco was closed for the night. Despite this, it resembled a bustling hive full of uniformed officials, with a cordon of police tape stretched around the premises complete with several officers, turning back those who hadn't received their message telling them that their booking had been abruptly cancelled and the curious alike. The officers on the driveway had already sent more than their fair share of people away and the officer in charge sighed wearily as he approached a black Ford Mustang that had swung onto the approach.

The driver flashed his identification without speaking and the officer took a moment to study it carefully before waving him through. Burning with curiosity, like the rest of his men, he watched the black Mustang drive the short distance to the restaurant before he made his way back to his post. What were the Air Force up to now?

Inside, Il Fiore Bianco's refined atmosphere had been reduced to one of intense focus. Forensic experts, many from the SGC itself, were everywhere while the nervous and unnerved staff had been gathered in one corner of the room, and were in the process of being interviewed by police officers with a higher security clearance than those outside. In the centre of it all stood Daniel Jackson, his arms hugged around his body and the expression on his face grim as he listened to the Deputy Chief speak. Across the room, Cam took a moment to assess the situation before he crossed the room to Daniel. Not good.

"Jackson," he said as he approached and Daniel swung around, his relief written across his face.

"Mitchell," he greeted, his smile falling slightly as his eyes flickered to the empty space behind Cam. Cam pretended not to notice. "Any news?"

Cam shook his head, glancing at the Deputy Chief, who was quickly fading into the woodwork. "I was going to ask you the same thing," he said, steering Daniel over to a relatively quiet section of the room so that they could have some privacy.

"Something knocked out all the security cameras in the building, so we don't have an ID yet," Daniel informed him. "But something this big, in a place this crowded...? It's got to be the Trust."

"The Odyssey's located her transmission signal," Cam said carefully.

"Great!" said Daniel, his eyes brightening and his shoulders straightening. "Get her out of there."

"It's not that simple," Cam told him. "It looks like she's on Main Street, and there are civilians there. We can't just pull her out. Sam's leading a team to intercept."

"Let's go," said Daniel. "We can be there in ten minutes."

"By the time we get there it'll be over," Cam pointed out reasonably. "We're better off finding out as much as we can here," he caught sight of a purple-faced man amongst the crowd of staff, "Before the manager has a heart attack."

Daniel's eyes narrowed, "There's something you're not telling me. Isn't there?"

Cam's eyes dropped before Daniel's level stare. He sighed, reluctant to admit, "She's not moving."

l

Oz refused to let anyone in the Watcher's flat with him, and it wasn't hard to see that the slayer contingent Robin Wood had foisted on SG-13 weren't happy about it. Apart from the two that kept a careful watch on either end of the hallway, they kept their eyes trained on the door, stiffening whenever Oz padded into view, his nose usually glued to the carpet.

It had taken the slayers completely by surprise when he disappeared out of sight and re-emerged in his werewolf form and Jon had enjoyed the consternation on their faces. One of the younger ones, Fiona he thought her name was, had lunged for him, but the Doc had effortlessly yanked her back into line with the others. They hadn't taken that well either, and the Doc was the oblivious recipient of dark glares whenever the Cleveland slayers could tear their eyes away from Oz.

Finally he reappeared him human form, calm and implacable as ever as he walked towards them rubbing his nose. Wood's lead slayer, Kelsey, straightened purposefully as he approached them, pulling her cell phone from her pocket as they waited for his verdict.

"Three human men," Oz said succinctly. "Not local."

"Mercs?" Jon asked as Kelsey hit a speed-dial number on her cell and waited to be connected.

"Maybe," Oz conceded with a shrug. "Definitely professionals. They drugged him."

The Cleveland slayers weren't the only ones to take Oz's statement badly; the Doc bristled angrily too. Jon shot her a warning glance and she settled down a little, unlike the other slayers, who remained on edge.

"The were says we're looking for three humans," Kelsey reported into her phone. "Out-of-towners, possibly mercenaries. They drugged Cyril," her voice wavered on her last sentence and she suddenly looked very young as her attitude dropped away.

"Uh-huh," she said in reply to the other person, and Jon wished she'd put the call on loudspeaker. Everyone else could probably hear the conversation; it wasn't fair to leave him out of it. "Okay. See you soon."

Ending the call, Kelsey had the courtesy to inform them, "Robin wants us back at the house."

"Andrew found something?" Jon asked laconically as the Cleveland slayer turned on her heel.

"Nope," she threw back over her shoulder as she stalked back the way they'd come, the other Cleveland slayers falling in behind her.

"Well, this is more fun than watching Daniel's face when he realises Looney Tunes thinks it's a date," Jon commented sarcastically, trailing after them.

"Oh, shut up," snapped the Doc.

"That's 'shut up, Captain' Doc."

"Bite me."

"Tempting..."

l

Walking in front of four burly marines, all thankfully wearing civvies, Sam tried her best to be look unobtrusive as they hurried towards the co-ordinates the Odyssey had sent them. At the back of her mind, several grisly explanations for Vala's lack of movement were playing on a fast-track loop. Best case scenario, Vala had gotten away and was hiding, waiting for them to find her. Worst case...? Well, the SGC would be holding a funeral service this week and she'd have to explain to Daniel why she hadn't gotten there quick enough.

Sam shook off her morbid thoughts, glancing down at the small GPS receiver she held in her hand. They were close. Very close. She slowed down and, behind her, SG-2 (who'd been out on a team drinking session when they'd been called by General Landry) slowed too. They spread out across the sidewalk, eyes scanning every nook and alleyway for the missing alien.

The GPS receiver beeped, signalling that they'd reached their destination, and Sam stopped, looking around. There was no sign of Vala and while SG-2 (thankfully none the worse for all the alcohol they'd consumed – a fraction of their usual amount) assessed the pedestrians passing by, Sam scoured the area for any sign of her.

Finally, she found what she was looking for. A small but powerful locator beacon, normally found implanted in Vala's upper left arm. Sam had one just like it in her arm. Squinting at it, Sam could just about make out a small piece of flesh still attached to the bloody device, and she firmly repressed a squeamish shudder. Whoever had cut it out had been in a hurry.

Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulled out a small plastic bag and a pair of tweezers, carefully picking up the transmitter and depositing it in the bag before she stood. Grabbing her cell phone, she called General Landry to break the news.

l

"Oh, that is just wrong!"

"What?" Jool sighed patiently, looking back just in time to see Jon use the exposed concrete of the sewer system to scrape something off his boot. She very quickly decided that she didn't want to know.

"Remind me again why we decided to take the scenic route," he groused, but the smile he sent her suggested that he didn't really mind, with the barest hint of 'I've been in worse places'.

"Because we're patrolling," one of the Cleveland slayers said in a tone that clearly implied a 'duh!' on the end of her sentence. "What kind of watcher are you?"

"The non-watching kind," Jon replied promptly. "Not a watcher," he elaborated as the Cleveland slayer stared blankly at him.

She turned her back on him without another word.

"Well that was rude," Jon commented, unoffended, as the slayer hurried to catch up with the rest of her team. SG-13 was trailing at the back of the group. "What did we do to piss these guys off?"

"Hey!" one of the native slayers hissed back down the tunnel at them. "Muzzle the mortal."

Jool sighed again for perhaps the umpteenth time since they'd left Colorado, pushing the tension out of her body. "It's not you," she said, putting on a burst of speed to catch up with the other slayers. "It's me."

"Huh?" asked Jon, confused, but she refused to answer. He turned to Oz for an explanation, "Well, that was a cliché."

"She's not wrong," Oz informed him helpfully, keeping his voice low and his eyes on where he was walking. "Only found out after all the slayers got activated that they're territorial." Oz shrugged, "Who knew? Plus they've got a pack-like hierarchy thing going for them too and Jool's a complete unknown. They don't know where she belongs."

"Great," Jon said dryly. "So how do we get 'em all to play nice? Braid each other's hair... that kind of thing."

"Don't worry," Oz told him calmly. "They'll fight it out sooner or later."

"Good," said Jon, relieved. "Wait, what?"

An urgent hiss came from the slayers ahead of the men, "Shh!"

Both seasoned fighters, Jon and Oz didn't need telling twice. They spread out, each hefting the weapon he carried as they headed towards the slayers, moving silently through the sewer. In front of them the slayers were preternaturally still as they all waited, and for the first time, Jon noticed a similarity between the Doc and the other slayers. They'd all instinctively dropped into the same predatory stance. For the first time they were acting as a unit, arranged in a rough circle with their backs to each other. It was almost scary how quickly slayers could go from bitching teenagers to lethal predators. It would be outright terrifying if he didn't know that he wasn't their prey. He felt a new-found respect for Robin Wood, survival in a house full of hormonal slayers seemed risky at best. Jon was just glad that his slayer was an adult. Wait... Jon frowned. That came out wrong.

Fortunately the vampires lurking out of sight picked that exact moment to finally screw up their courage and attack. Startled out of his reverie, Jon found himself in the middle of a brawl to the death armed only with a cross, a super-soaker filled with a limited amount of holy water and a couple of pointy sticks in the breast pocket of his coat. He'd balked at the water-gun when it had first been handed to him, back at Slayer HQ, but he had to admit that it was more useful than he'd given it credit for. Mindful of his ammo, he made every shot count, resorting to his cross only when he was grabbed from behind, pressing it into the vampire's muscley forearm. The vampire howled, letting go of Jon and almost simultaneously backhanding him with the other hand.

Jon flew across the room. It gave him time to observe how the fight was going, in a detached sort of way. Something in his back pocket crunched as he landed but he barely registered it. Rolling to his feet, he pulled a stake from his pocket and plunged it into a vampire's back.

"Thanks," smiled Kelsey before she whirled to face another foe.

They were grossly outnumbered. Yet, somehow, it didn't matter. Alone, the slayers were each capable of holding their own against several vampires at once, but together they tore through the vampires like a Kull Warrior through a human planet. In fact, Jon was pleased to notice, he wasn't the only one who'd been side-lined. Oz was making his way around the fringes of the fight towards him. Reaching him, the short were-wolf handed Jon the crossbow he carried.

"Thanks," Jon grinned. He liked the crossbow.

"Told you they'd fight it out," Oz said, coming close to a smile as he handed Jon another quarrel.

All too soon, the fight was over and the vampires reduced to dust, slowly sifting through the air to settle on the surface of the sewage running sluggishly underfoot. Jon made a mental note to buy new boots tomorrow. Or was it today?

"Weird," commented Kelsey, peering down the passageway the vampires had entered from.

"What?" asked Jon before he could stop himself from revealing his ignorance.

"They had to know we'd beat them," Kelsey mused. "Vamps don't normally make a habit of seeking us out."

"I got something!" called out one of the Cleveland slayers. Jon had completely forgotten her name.

"Show me," demanded Kelsey, pushing her way past the slayers that had immediately clustered around the other girl. But the Doc was already there, and had just been handed whatever it was.

Unaware that Kelsey was fuming across from her, Jool stared at the small object she held in her hand, gut-wrenching in its familiarity. Looking up, her gaze clashed with Kelsey's for a moment before the lingering hostility in the other slayer's eyes faded away, replaced by concern.

"What is it?" she asked.

Jool held it out so that she could see for herself, "Sir Cyril's ring."

l

Vala fought her way back to consciousness, barely even aware of why she was struggling. It wasn't until she opened her eyes that she discovered that her struggles hadn't been entirely spiritual; she was cuffed to a hospital bed with leather restraints. Normally Vala wasn't adverse to a little light bondage, and if it involved Daniel Jackson she was more than in favour of it, but in this case she rather thought she was against. It wasn't anything personal; it was just that she didn't recognise any of the three people in the room... or the room for that matter. Not to mention the large band-aid and sharp pain in her upper arm. Right where her location transmitter was supposed to be. In fact, now she thought about it, her last memory was of a man stabbing her in the neck with a needle and dragging her out to his waiting car.

Vala was pretty certain that this wasn't how first dates usually went.

"I apologise for that," the blonde woman said calmly, stepping towards Vala. She didn't look sorry, but in her form-fitting grey suit she did look like she was in charge. "The surgery was performed in a moving car. They were more concerned about removing the subcutaneous transmitter than about being gentle about it."

Vala frowned a little as she looked around the room, getting her bearings and working out possible escape routes for when her head was a little less groggy. It was some sort of lab, she was almost certain of it. Not a good sign. And the two men hovering at the back of the room were clearly henchmen.

Vala let some of her confusion show as she asked the woman, "Do I know you?"

"You did," she relied, her voice still eerily calm. "A long time ago."

For a brief second, her eyes glowed gold and Vala's heart sank. A Goa'uld. And she'd thought the evening couldn't get any worse.

"Qetesh, the Goa'uld that once occupied your body, was a rival of mine," the Goa'uld coolly informed her. "She was a very intelligent adversary, which is why I eventually decided to partner with her. In retrospect, it's also the reason I should have been more careful about trusting her," she added introspectively, with a hint of bitterness.

It was the most emotion Vala had seen her show but she didn't let it distract her. She'd always known that one day her past would come back to haunt her. It always did. This wasn't even the first time that someone had tried to take a grudge against Qetesh out on her. She had a speech prepared for just such occasions. Granted, she'd never said it whilst at the other person's mercy but there was a first time for everything.

"As the host to her Goa'uld," began Vala. "I was an unwilling participant in many of Qetesh's thoughtless actions, so if this is," she could stop the small nervous laugh that escaped her, "A revenge thing, your anger is, well, misplaced."

"This isn't a revenge thing," the Goa'uld replied coldly.

"Oh," said Vala, feeling the faint hope that she might be able to talk her way out of this one fade away, curl up in a corner, and die a quiet death.

The Goa'uld nodded to one of her flunkies and he picked something up from the workbench in front of him. Vala's misgivings grew as he approached her.

"This is a search for answers," the Goa'uld informed her as the scientist or whatever he was reached Vala's side. "My position in the Trust has afforded me considerable resources."

Her minion reached towards Vala, who leaned as far away as she could. Unfortunately it wasn't far enough. He pressed a small bluely metallic circular device to Vala's forehead and she flinched as sharp needles hooked into her flesh, holding the device in place as the man stepped away.

"Ow," protested Vala. Suddenly pain spike again, stabbing deep into her forehead, "Ow!"

"Ever since I heard that you joined Stargate Command, I've been watching and waiting for an opportunity..." the Goa'uld continued as though nothing had happened, even as her underling scurried back to his station. "Which finally presented itself tonight."

"What exactly do you want from me?" Vala asked, summoning all of her remaining bravado to help see her through.

"The code," the Goa'uld said cryptically. "To an Ancient tablet that I helped Qetesh located long ago," she elaborated, much to Vala's relief. "A treasure map of sorts. She was supposed to share it with me, but instead decided to keep it for herself. From what I understand, she was never able to decipher it. I'd like that opportunity."

"To be honest, "Vala shrugged, "It doesn't ring a bell."

"That's because you suppressed many of the details from your time as Qetesh," the Goa'uld informed Vala superciliously, practically sneering as she looked down her nose at her. "The full genetic memory of the Goa'uld would drive your inferior human mind insane. Luckily, we have this device to help us find what we're looking for," the Goa'uld smiled, but there was no warmth behind it.

Vala glanced around the room, and as she'd hoped, it wasn't hard to spot the thing that didn't belong. The two techs were standing in front of a control board that was definitely not of Earthly origin. Unfortunately it wasn't a device she recognised. As she watched, the minion's underling fiddled with the controls.

"This'll take a while," he said.

"I'll leave you to it then," the Goa'uld said, satisfaction oozing out of every pore. She smiled at Vala again as she left.

Somehow, Vala wasn't reassured.

l

It felt like only seconds since she'd shut her eyes, but someone was roughly shaking her awake. Faith resisted the urge to punch them senseless. It was probably Elle. The newbie hadn't had time to learn that sleeping Faiths were best woken from a distance.

"I'm up," she grunted, forcing her eyes open as she swung her feet to the floor.

"Good," Elle said. "I'm going to bed."

"See you in the morning," Faith told her, forcing her legs to stand up and take her weight. Just about every muscle beneath her hip and a couple of those above complained about it, some more stridently than others. Faith ignored them, doing a couple of basic leg stretches to get the blood flowing to her abused muscles.

"Don't forget my father," Elle reminded her on the way out of the door and Faith frowned. It wasn't just the desire to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head that was confusing her now.

"What about him?" she asked, and yawned.

"Val says we need to keep a close eye on him," Elifa told her with a frown. Faith had been there when the other slayer had said it. "He's sleeping at the moment."

"So, what? You've been hanging in his room?" said Faith, and the tiredness she felt made it come out more accusatory than she'd intended.

"Not all of the time," Elifa defended herself. "I walked around the town several times. And I went to the Portal of the Gods."

"We call it the Stargate," Faith said, striving for a more friendly tone. "Sometimes Kay calls it a Chappa'ai, but we're trying to cure her of that."

Elifa stared at her, wondering if she'd ever understand all that came out of her mouth. "Goodnight," she said, her tone reserved.

"Night," Faith told her with a smile. "Thanks for taking first watch. Good job."

Even in the moonlight, it was easy to see Elle's glow of pleasure at Faith's praise. For a moment, Faith had a horrible suspicion that Elle would turn out to be another hugger, like Mallie, but the moment passed to her eternal relief and Elle left Faith to get ready in her own time.

The dark slayer patted her clothes almost absently, checking that the weapons she hadn't bothered to remove when she crashed into bed hadn't slipped out of position and adjusting the few that had. She really needed to remember to at least take her weapons off before she went to sleep, Faith thought absently. Elle coulda easily wound up with a knife at her throat when she'd woken her up. She grabbed her sword before she left the room, buckling the scabbard around her waist as she pushed open the door to Val's room.

"Hey... Val," she whispered, gently shaking the sleeping girl. "Wake up."

"Don't want to," Val mumbled into her pillow.

"C'mon Val," Faith said with a grin. "Time to get up."

"Five more minutes, mother. Please..."

"Wake up Val," Faith insisted softly.

Grumbling in the back of her throat, Val rolled over, screwing open one eye to glare up at Faith, "What?" As she woke up, memory returned and both eyes opened fully, "Is it Skardhe?"

"Sleeping like a babe," Faith assured her. "Apparently."

"Good," Val said with a contented smile, her eyelids slowly descending...

"Oh, no, you don't," Faith told her and Val reluctantly opened her eyes again.

"What?" she asked plaintively.

"You gotta help me move your bed into Skardhe's room," said Faith and Val sat up, almost fully awake now.

"What? Why?"

"You said we need to keep an eye on him overnight," Faith reminded her. "Congratulations, you got the job."

"Why me?" whined Val, although in her defence, she did it while she was dragging herself out of bed.

"You're the healer," Faith pointed out reasonably.

"This is so not fair," Val told her. "I am not that good a healer."

"Best one we got," Faith said supportively.

"Not if we send for my mother," said Val, eager to press her cause as she gathered up her bedclothes and stuffed two pillows under one arm. "You promised you would do so when we were in a safe place. Leave the bedframe, just bring the mattress. I will sleep on the floor."

"First of all, we don't even know if we can get back here once we move on," Faith bottom-lined it for her, grabbing the mattress and following her out of the room. "Probably better to find that out first before your family moves here. Second, this is the Cimmerian's home now. You're gonna have to ask them if it's okay."

"They will say yes," Val said confidently. "Their only healer is an aged midwife."

"Don't diss Ursula," Faith said seriously but quietly as they entered Skardhe's room. "She's hardcore."

Val blinked at her, "I did not understand a word of that."

Faith grinned smugly, "I know."

l

General Landry met Daniel as he stepped off the elevator. Despite the late hour the General's uniform was crisp and immaculate, highlighting Daniel's rumpled appearance. The hallway around them was busier than was normal; a sign of how many people had been called into to help find Vala. Word was spreading amongst the off-duty personnel and several had made the commute back to the mountain to volunteer in the search. Vala was more popular than she realised, and Daniel was the recipient of several sympathetic glances.

"Anything?" he asked the General, already knowing the answer from the look on his face.

"I'm sorry," Hank shook his head sadly. "Colonel Carter is working with the Odyssey. They're trying to realign the sensors to search for the naquada left in Miss Mal Doran's bloodstream from her time as a Goa'uld host, but it's unlikely they'll be able to detect such a minute amount."

"Mitchell's with the Deputy Chief," Daniel informed him. "He'll let us know if anything comes up."

"I know," Hank said. "We've got the local authorities searching the area and conducting interviews with every possible witness," he sighed in frustration. "So far they've come up empty."

"General, there's no question the Trust is behind her disappearance," Daniel said feverishly. "I mean, they're the only ones with the resources capable of pulling something like this off."

"Agreed," said Landry. "I've already put a call through to Agent Barratt. He's got his people working on it."

"What about SG-13?" Daniel asked, voicing the question that had been puzzling the small corner of his mind that wasn't currently obsessed with Vala's disappearance. "We could have used their tracking skills earlier. It's not like them to miss something like this." He left unspoken the thought that they were supposed to be Vala's friends, but General Landry's sharp eyes caught the expression voluble on his face.

"You didn't hear?" the General asked, the steel underlying the pleasant tone of his voice informing Daniel that he'd almost committed a faux pas.

"Hear what?" asked Daniel, blissfully unaware that SG-13 wasn't even in the state.

"Doctor Wilson's Godfather was kidnapped by demons yesterday," Hank informed him. "The Watchers Council requested Andrew's help. Given the circumstances, I could hardly refuse. They're in Cleveland."

"But they know what's happened?" Daniel checked.

"Mmm..." Hank prevaricated for a moment before admitting, "We're still trying to get hold of them." Daniel frowned and Hank elaborated, "As far as we can tell, they're fine. They're just not answering their phones at the moment."

Actually, Doctor Wilson and Daniel Osbourne weren't answering their cell phones. Andrew and Jon's numbers were going straight to voicemail. But Hank wasn't about to tell Daniel that at the moment. He already looked like he was under enough stress as it was.

"They'll call in as soon as they can," he assured Daniel.

He didn't look reassured.

"We'll find her," tried Hank.

Daniel sighed. He really hoped so.

Something Landry had said suddenly struck him, "Kidnapped by demons?"

"Apparently."

"Huh."

l

The village was louder than the night.

All her life Faith had taken the noises of the night for granted, even more so once she was called as a slayer. It had become merely background noise to a never-ending fight for her life. Oh, she had learned to pay attention to it, but only so that she could detect the creatures passing in the night, to distinguish between demon and dog. (Top tip: demons were usually smellier.) Now, for the first time ever, the only note the night held was the wind, still dancing through the undergrowth, and setting a loose shutter clattering against its casing.

It was freaking Faith out.

At least in the village she could hear people snoring in their beds, and the horses in their stables. Outside it, she was utterly alone, for the first time in her life. She could easily be the only person alive on the whole planet. The only creature still alive.

Her childhood had been spent in a succession of over-crowded tenement buildings, constantly surrounded by other people. Even when she'd gotten out, she'd still chosen to live in cities. Sunnydale was the closest she'd come to country living (if you didn't count a couple of flying visits to B's castle) and Sunnydale was so close to LA that it might as well have been a suburb.

Faith had loved the cities she'd lived in. Loved the comfort and anonymity living next to several million other people provided. In a city you could be no-one. Here, alone in the night, you could only be you.

She'd survived prison, and life at B's house in Sunnydale just before the battle with the First. Faith had always thought of herself as independent and self-reliant before. She was only just beginning to understand how conditioned she was to rely on the presence of other people before.

All things considered, it was a relief when it was time to wake Kay up and go back to bed.

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Red hot pokers tore their way through Vala's brain as old thoughts, memories and emotions from her time as a prisoner inside her own body were dragged up against her will from the deepest recesses of her subconscious and played again in her mind's eye and on the screen in front of the two men in the room. She was only dimly aware that one of them was speaking, all of her energy going towards concentrating beyond the pain to fight the intrusion. She couldn't even remember why she had to fight it, she just knew that it was important.

Suddenly the pokers retreated, the images faded. Sight returned to her and Vala became aware that she was gasping for air. The man who'd attached the device that was causing it walked towards her, and Vala shrank back involuntarily.

"How're are you feeling?" he asked solicitously.

Oh, now he wanted to be friends...! Although, now that he'd brought it up, how was she feeling?

"A little dizzy," Vala verbalised as the results of her internal assessment slowly filtered back to her aching head. "A little tired. And very, very angry."

"Oh, that's because the flashbacks you're experiencing are dredging up some long-buried emotions that may be colouring your conscious mind," he informed her helpfully.

"I'm gonna kill both of you in the most painful way possible," Vala promised him.

"Things'll go a lot faster if you just relax," he said, his expression turning cold as he studied Vala's mulish face.

"Whenever you're ready," he said to the other man.

Vala barely had time to brace herself before the agony started again, arching her back up off the mattress as she grimaced, turning her scream into a groan.

She had to give the SGC time to find her before she used up her usefulness. Or went mad.

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General Landry looked up at the knock on his office door, his eyes gritty from lack of sleep. If Caroline were here she'd be ordering him to bed, and there was so much to oversee at this precise moment that Hank was grateful that it was his daughter's night off.

"Come in," he invited. The door opened and Teal'c entered, closing it behind him. "Teal'c," Hank greeted, waving him to a seat even though he knew from long experience that Teal'c would continue to stand.

"General Landry," Teal'c returned the greeting before Hank had a chance to ask what he could do for the Jaffa. "I wish to visit Cleveland. Immediately."

"I see," said Hank, suddenly profoundly grateful that one of his responsibilities and worries was about to be taken care of for him. "I assume that you intend to visit SG-13."

"Indeed," admitted Teal'c. "I believe that they would be of great use at this time. They have strengths and skills that we do not."

"I agree," Hank told him. "You know that their employers have specifically requested their help?"

"I do," said Teal'c. "Which is why I go only to inform them that their friend has been captured."

"You think they'll come?" Hank asked, thinking of the choice Doctor Wilson would be forced to make.

"They would not be who they are if they did not," Teal'c said simply.

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"If this is another dinosaur world, I'm going home," Buffy said firmly once the roiling purple and black clouded had dissipated, revealing a grassy meadow. "Tell me Dawn's nearby."

"Be fair," argued Willow, waiting to establish her connection to this new Earth before she attempted another spell. Trans-dimensional travel could really drain the batteries. "They weren't dinosaurs last time, they were alien lizards."

"They were dino-men," Buffy stood by her decree, just as she had for the entire of their time in the second reality they'd visited. "And what was with the ginger obsession?"

"They're addicted to it," Willow patiently explained for what felt like the millionth time.

Drawing energy up from the earth beneath her feet, from the air around her and the sun beating down on her skin, Willow invoked Aradia. The familiar spark of green energy appeared in front of her. It hovered there for a few seconds, raising their hopes, and then winked as it flashed into a different existence.

Buffy vented her fear and frustration by screaming, and hurling the scythe as hard as she could. It chopped through a sapling at the edge of the meadow before lodging in another, larger tree.

"Uh... Buffy?" said Willow.

Buffy followed her pointing finger to the parasaurolophus that had just wandered into the clearing.

Enraged, the slayer beat it to death with her bare hands.

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Teal'c compared the address on the piece of paper he held with the address of the mansion in front of him. He was at the right house. The crosses welded to the metal gates dispelled any lingering doubts he might have had. Despite the late hour, lights still shone from the house's windows and Teal'c pushed the gate open, assured by the Odyssey's sensors that Captain O'Neil, Andrew Wells and Daniel Osbourne were all inside. Doctor Wilson was in a cemetery on the other side of the city with six other humans.

Unfortunately, no-one aboard the Odyssey had thought to speculate on what Jool's absence might mean. Teal'c had arrived in the middle of the late patrol, attended only by the oldest slayers attached to the school. The lights had been left burning to guide the teams home when they were done. On an ordinary night, everybody inside would be asleep by now, with the sole exception of the watcher whose job it was to wait for the late patrol to report back at the end of the night. This was no ordinary night.

The slayers inside had been keyed up by the kidnapping of one of their watchers, a fact that Teal's had failed to take into account. It didn't help that Cyril's ring had recently been found on a dusted vampire, giving rise to fears that Cyril might have been turned, or that Robin was locked away in the library with most of the faculty and Andrew Wells, who was trying to use the ring to locate Cyril and failing. Nor would Jon and Oz be able to help him. Both were fast sleep in bed.

Teal'c never heard the roaming band of thirteen-year-olds that took him down, but he heard the tranquiliser gun fire just before the dart buried itself in his neck. He struggled against the drug, but it was a dose calculated to bring down a Fyarl demon and he had no choice but to surrender to the darkness.

Out of the night, three girls appeared, gathering around his prone body.

"Definitely a demon," one of them said decisively, prodding him with her foot.

Another bent and rolled him over. "I don't know," she said. "He looks human..."

Teal'c's beanie had shifted when she moved him, and the first slayer to speak, eagle-eyed, spotted the gleam that it concealed.

"Oh, yeah?" she said, and bent down to pluck it from his head. "What's that then?"

Faced with the symbol of Teal'c former servitude and their own slayer senses, the other two were forced to concede that she was probably right. It wasn't until they had him halfway to the house that any of them thought to wonder what they should do with him.

"Robin's busy," reasoned the one who'd spoken the most. "It's probably not a good time to bug him with this."

"But what do we do with it?" the one who hadn't been certain Teal'c was a demon wanted to know. The third slayer kept quiet, as before.

"Chain him up in the basement?" suggested the mouthy one.

They did that, and ordered the quiet one to make sure he didn't escape before they could tell Robin. Then the other two went back to bed.

Alone in the basement with an unidentified demon with unknown powers, the quiet young slayer, whose name was Katie, trembled and felt certain that she would not fall asleep on the job. Eventually however, exhaustion and the excitement of the day contrived together to snatch her off to sleep when she wasn't expecting it.

Teal'c's alien physiology burned off the sedative at an impressive rate, and it wasn't long after Katie had begun to lightly snore that he began to stir. Sitting up, he took stock of his situation.

While his circumstances were not ideal he was, at least, within the building. The manacles around his wrists he barely gave a second thought, confident that he could easily break them if he so chose, but his watch he gave considerably more attention to. It was past five in the morning in this timezone, and if the child asleep on the steps opposite him, with her knees drawn up to her chest and her head resting on those knees, was any indication, the people in the rooms above him would be fast asleep. An attempt to locate SG-13 now could only result in panic before explanations could be made, and warriors of the highest calibre resided here. Did Master Bra'tac not say that the prudent warrior lives longest?

The best course of action clear to him, Teal'c cleared his mind, closed his eyes, regulated his breathing and sank into kel'no'rem.

Sometime later he opened them to discover that the young slayer had awoken and was now regarding him with wide grey eyes. She squeaked as his gaze fell on her.

"Do not fear," Teal'c hastened to reassure her. "I will not harm you."

"Oh," she said, blinking rapidly. "Did-did I wake you? I didn't mean to."

"I was not in fact asleep," Teal'c told her. "I was merely within a state of kel'no'reem, which can sustain me without sleep for several days if necessary."

"Really?"

"Indeed."

There was silence for several long moments as she digested this.

"Cool," she decided finally. Her eyes brightened, "Can-can you teach me?"

A faint smile appeared at the corners of Teal'c's mouth as he inclined his head respectfully, "It would be my honour."

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The sun was shining brightly through her window when Faith woke up. She stretched luxuriously, revelling in the comfort of a soft bed and the vague feeling of having overslept. Outside, she could hear people in the street, children laughing. Someone, somewhere was singing. Faith couldn't quite make out the words, but the melody was haunting.

It wasn't long before her brain reminded her that she was sleeping in a dead person's bed and ruined the moment. Faith didn't linger after that unpleasant thought. Getting dressed presented an unexpected dilemma. On one hand, she did have clean clothes she could wear. On the other, she herself was so filthy that she didn't want to ruin a clean set of clothes. Reluctantly, she pulled on the grimy, sweat-encrusted clothes that she'd been wearing the day before. One good thing was that her new leather pants now fitted like a glove, with just the right amount of give just where she'd need it.

Faith made her way down to the kitchen, hoping for coffee. She got it, although Kay warned her that their supply was getting low. Faith immediately ordered strict rationing. Half a cup of coffee later, she added chocolate to the 'once in a blue moon and maybe not even then' list.

"What are we doing today?" she asked, draining the dregs of her coffee, ash and all. She was tempted to lick out the cup. "An' where is everyone?"

"Elifa and Valencia are with Skardhe," reported Kay. "Mallie, Nya, Liss, Jem and Hal are still asleep. As for what we're doing today," she continued, placing a plate of dry toast and scrambled eggs in front of Faith. Interestingly, there was also a lump of cheese on the plate. "I thought breakfast first, then I've got water heating for baths."

A bath? Faith moaned with pleasure at the thought.

"Then," Kay said ominously, fixing Faith with a serious stare, "You and I need to have a talk about food."

"Food?" Faith asked around a mouthful of egg.

"Food," confirmed Kay.

Faith shrugged, "Okay."

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"Cam..."

"I'm not asleep!" Cam announced as he jerked himself awake.

He'd dropped off in his office, he realised. Looking at his watch, he'd been asleep for a couple of hours.

"If it makes you feel any better, Daniel's asleep in his office," Sam told him, her eyes showing her amusement. "And I caught some earlier."

"What's going on?" Cam asked, realising that she probably wouldn't have woken him if something hadn't happened. He rubbed his eyes, suppressing a yawn.

"We just got word from Agent Barrett," Sam informed him. "He's sent over a list of suspected Trust safehouses."

"I'll get Jackson," said Cam, pushing himself to his feet.

"Uh... before you do," Sam tactfully averted her eyes, tapping the side of her mouth.

Cam touched the spot she had indicated and discovered drool. Hurriedly, he wiped it off. "Thanks."

"Any time," Sam told him as they left Cam's office.

"Teal'c back yet?" asked Cam.

Sam shook her head, "No word from him or SG-13 yet."

"Crap."

"Indeed," agreed Sam.

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Jon's jaw dropped when he caught sight of the Doc at breakfast. One green eye was swollen almost completely shut, surrounded by an ugly dark bruise, and three long scratches travelled the length of one cheekbone. Fighting his way across the crowded room, he plonked himself down across the table from her.

"What the hell happened to you last night?" he demanded.

"Last night? Nothing," the Doc said with a grin. "I got this in the gym this morning."

Jon stared at her for a long moment, assessing the damage. "I hope you won," he said eventually.

He hadn't thought it was possible, but her grin actually widened. "Hell, yeah," she told him.

"Hate to see the other guy," offered Jon.

"You won't," she said matter-of-factly. "She's at the hospital having her arm cast."

"You broke her arm?" Jon jaw hit the floor again.

"In two places," the Doc confirmed cheerfully. "I'd like to see her try and scratch someone's eyes out now."

Jon stared at her until she caught sight of Andrew and Oz entering the room and stood up to wave them over. Just when he thought he'd worked out where the slayer in her ended and the woman began, she threw him a curveball. Every time. She was giving the other two a play-by-play account of the fight when Robin Wood's voice rang out above the babble.

"Attention, please!"

Conversations died as the slayers gave their head watcher their full attention. Jon couldn't help but pity the small, scared teenager stood next to Robin. She looked miserable.

"Would anyone care to explain," Robin enquired casually. "Why there's a manacled demon giving meditation lessons in the basement?"

In the chaos that erupted it was surprising that one voice carried to everyone in the room as she defended her new-found friend, "He's not evil! And he was teaching me kel'no'reem, not meditation."

SG-13 exchanged meaning-laden looks.

"Crap," Jon summed up for all of them.

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Thanks to the Odyssey's Asgard transporters, the SGC was able to pull together several strike teams and deposit them in various locations within an hour of receiving Agent Barratt's list. In Denver, SG-1 were putting together the final touches of their planned assault on their designated safehouse. Literally. Sam was just easing the detonator into the C4 when Landry's voice crackled out of their radios.

"Team One, what's your status?"

Sam flashed Cam a thumbs up and Cam replied in a hushed voice, "Team One is in position."

He glanced over his shoulder at the assault team waiting for the order to go as he grabbed a spot close to the door but safely out of range of the small explosion that was about to go off. As he waited for General Landry to give the go ahead, he prayed that Vala was inside. Or, at least, if not inside this one, then inside one of the other safehouses on the list.

"All five teams are in position," announced Landry. "You have a go."

Cam blew the door.

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Engrossed in his study of Cyril Leighton's remains, Ba'al was tempted to ignore the servant hovering just in sight. He was in the middle of trying to retrieve the data inside the robot, having reasoned that it must be in there somewhere. On the other hand, the man wouldn't be standing there if it wasn't important.

"What is it?" he snapped, his eyes glowing his displeasure.

"F-forgive me," the man stammered. "T-there are two gentlemen here to see you. They s-said to say they're from Wolfram and Hart."

Wolfram and Hart? Ba'al frowned. He hadn't requested any legal services. Or any illegal ones, now he thought about it. So what did his lawyers want?

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Vala was temporarily incapable of hearing the muffled explosion, but both of the men in the room with her could and did hear it, exchanging troubled looks.

"What was that?" asked Vala's tormentor. "Turn it down."

And so Vala came back to herself just in time to hear the gunfire start up. A light sprinkling of zat blasts gave it a homey sound, she decided, struggling desperately to free herself. Her Daniel had found her and she was so relieved she could almost cry... if only she weren't so damn mad!

"Cover the door," her tormentor ordered the other man, and he nodded, grabbing a handgun from a drawer in the desk.

Vala's tormentor moved to free her, and Vala stopped struggling immediately, with the full intention of hitting him as hard as she could once she was free and making a run for it. She was reasonably certain that, as the cause of all this fuss, no-one would be shooting at her.

The man covering the door was hit by a zat blast, crumpling unconscious to the floor and her torturer abandoned her for the alien device. Vala glared after him as she clawed at her restraints with her one free hand, making a mental note to give him a good kick between the legs as well if she had time.

A familiar face, one from SG-15, loomed in the doorway his zat held at the ready. Her kidnapper looked up in panic and the Sergeant shot him. The voltage travelled through his body, stunning him, and into the alien device he was touched. Sparks flew from the console and the device attached to Vala's temple surged with power. White-hot fire erupted in Vala's head and her eyes rolled back into her head as every thought, every feeling was consumed by the fire.