I had a few more pieces to put into place that I'd mislaid slightly, so this chapter is another slow one I'm afraid - the action will kick up a notch or three in the next chapter. Hope you like it!

Glory was not in a good mood when she entered the room. As she did all the assembled lackeys that she had assembled so far – all five of them! – cringed and bowed and did everything but throw themselves on the ground and grovel, but that didn't cheer her up. In fact it had never cheered her up, not even that time that what's-his-name, the short smelly one, had thrown himself down on a weak part of the floor, causing a floorboard to break and send a spike of wood into his eye, killing him stone dead. That had been quite fun.

She paused for a moment. She'd lost her train of thought. Then she got it back again and glared at the assembled bunch of losers. "Well?" she asked sarcastically, holding her hands up palm upwards.

"Mighty and most puissant Glorificus, whose shoes I am not worthy to be kicked by, we have assembled a number of weapons of power," whined the senior lackey, who also looked the greasiest. They were all greasy. She was starting to consider having the lot of them locked in a car wash for an afternoon.

"Oh. What kind of weapons?" she asked, blinking slightly. Perhaps this lot of brainless idiots had actually managed to do something right for once.

"Mighty One, first we have this!" The lackey scurried over to a table where some shapes were muffled inside what looked like old silk sheets. He reached over and twitched the cloth aside to reveal a sword. It had a red handgrip, it had a spiked crossguard, it had a pommel that was the shape of a skull and it had a gutter running down the blade, probably for the blood. It looked quite cool. "It is the sword of Kartgrran!"

She walked over and looked down at it. "Is it magical?"

"Yes, your Worshipfulness."

Glory waited for a moment and then raised an eyebrow. "Well? Magical how? What does it do?"

The lackey looked a bit uneasy. "We are not sure, Mighty One. We know that it is magical but Kartgrran is long dead and he, um, did not tell people about the secret of its magic."

"Why?"

"He was killed in his sleep and his body was cut into a hundred pieces, placed upon pikes and then scattered from Lands End to John O'Groats by the Black Monks of St Herod. He owed them sixpence O Great and Wonderful One."

"So it's magic, but the only person who can use it is worm-fodder in lots of different places somewhere?"

"Yes, Great One, but-"

"But nothing, take it away, get it looked at or something, and you're a moron. What's next?"

The lackey whisked away the silk covering the next object. "The Egg-Whisk of the Pattersons, Great Lady!"

Glory rolled her eyes and said something that should have cloven the air with runes of liquid fire and frozen the marrow of the lackey. Instead it just sounded obscene, which wasn't what she wanted. They were totally useless, but they were the best she had to work with.

"What does that do?"

The lackey opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Um, it whisks?"

"And how can a cooking... thing, whatever a whisk is, help me to fight a human know-it-all with a sword made of light?"

The lackey wilted, which was something that Glory would have loved to have achieved by removing his spine and using it as a hat for a while. Sadly this self-restraint thing was still working and she contented herself with a glare that should have removed strips of his skin in great seared layers. Instead he backed away holding the egg whisk.

"And... what else do you have?" she asked as she looked about in a pointed and impatient manner.

"Nothing else for the time, oh great and most wobblingly scrumptious Great Lady. Others are scouring places of great power for other weapons, but until then... well, that would seem to be it."

Glory massaged the bridge of her nose tiredly. She couldn't get headaches - well, not at this altitude and in air this thin – but she could feel something crawling about the circumference of her mind. At least it wasn't that maggot Ben trying to get back control of his body. "Alright," she said after a long moment, during which two of the lackeys had removed the so-called weapons, "please tell me that you have some information on the Slayer at least."

The chief lackey – well, the least greasy lackey who had a scattering of brain cells more than the others – perked up at this. "Yes, Great Lady," he said, his chest inflating to the point where he looked like a rather grungy pouter pigeon. "We have identified where the Slayer, Buffy Summers, lives, along with her mother and her sister. They inhabit a dwelling on the north-west side of the Hellmouth. She patrols the area every night. There are others who patrol the area around the Hellmouth as well. According to people who reside here, there is a base run by the Army of the United States here."

She perked up at this. Armies often contained easily-recruited drones who were willing to shed blood at the drop of a hat. "Can they be controlled once we have control of the base?"

The lackey drooped a little. "There are many of them and they have very many guns."

Glory frowned. "And your point is....?"

"Um, they tend to shoot a great deal. Plus they have a lot of explosives that are more powerful then gunpowder."

Ah, she thought, that would be a bad thing. She didn't want her Key blown into a thousand fragments by some idiot Doughboy, or whatever the hell the term was. The idea of a better headquarters, like an army base for example, was tempting, but on the other hand too much destruction before she worked out where those worthless weasel monks had hidden her key was a bad thing. The Jedi... the Jedi knew, rot his kidneys with maggotworms, not that this benighted dimension had anything as useful and succulent.

Which dragged her back to the issue of weapons. She needed one so that she could wind the Jedi's intestines around it and then chargrill them over a brazier full of hot coals. And then there was also the Slayer. "Tell me," she said consideringly, "where does the Slayer patrol?"

"The Slayer Buffy Summers?" the stupidest of the lackeys asked.

"Yes, of course the Slayer Buffy Summers! Whatever Slayer is there?" she snapped, making the lackey cringe in a most satisfying manner.

"There are two Slayers, oh magnificent one," the lead lackey said carefully. "There is also Faith Morgan in the city of Los Angeles."

She scowled. "I know that you moron! Why would I ask where the other Slayer patrols?!?"

"Oh, yes, of course oh hearteningly wise and gracious one. She patrols the various burial places of the local humans, to see if any of them have been turned into vampires."

"Oh. How boring." She paused, thinking over her plan. "Ok," she said, clapping her hands together in a decisive way, "Here's what we're going to-"

She was interrupted by a flash of light from the next room, the sound of a sizzling explosion, a scream of pain and the distinct noise of a body hitting the floor. After a moment one of the two lackeys who had left the room with the so-called weapons peeked his head nervously around the door. "Great One," he squeaked hesitantly, "We have been able to make the Egg Whisk of the Pattersons work!"

There were times when she really almost wished that she'd never been able to re-emerge from the prison made of human flesh and blood that she'd been encased in.

Giles suppressed a sigh as the car drew up to the entrance of the Initiative. He had a feeling that while this might have been very necessary, at the same time it was also somewhat... unwise. The US military, as fine a body of people as it was, made him uneasy when it came to the thought of explaining matters relating to his world. In his personal experience there was a tendency on the part of their civilian masters (the irony was exquisite) to treat them as expendable toys and to also give them black/white options. In his opinion there were far more shades of grey in the world. At least Quentin bloody Travers was out of his hair. The Head of the Watcher's Council had flown out that morning, after promising to send them all the information that the Council had on Glory. He suspected that they were going to need all the help that they could get.

The car drew to a halt and a sentry dressed in green fatigues opened the door. "Mr Giles?"

"That's, um, that's me," he said as he held out his opened passport.

"Thank you sir," the sentry said as he looked at the photo within the document and then looked at him. "Welcome to the Initiative. I'll take you to General Lam. Please follow me to the security desk and we'll get you a pass."

As they walked over to the desk that was partially hidden by a booth – and which had what looked like a well-camouflaged door to what was probably a rapid response team next to it – Giles found himself covertly studying the sentry. He looked vaguely familiar. His nametag said 'MONTGOMERY' and he had the stripes of a sergeant.

"Have we met before?" he asked quietly.

"Yes sir, we have, but you were a little busy at the time. I'm Sergeant Thomas Montgomery. I was in here when Adam released the subjects. You and the Slayers, along with SG-1 saved us from being overrun in Armoury Two. I think I was rather covered in blood at the time. Sign here please sir."

"Ah," said Giles gravely as he bent over and signed at the indicated spot and then straightened up again. "I thought that I recognised you. Good to see you again sergeant. You look much better."

"Thank you sir. There are a number of support staff here who don't go patrolling but who owe you and the others their lives after that night. On behalf of them I'd like to thank you."

Giles smiled. "We were just doing our duty Sergeant Montgomery, as I'm sure you understand."

"I do sir." He waited for a machine to one side to finish printing out a visitors card before attaching a clip to it and then handing it over. "Please wear this at all times sir. I suggest you clip it to your lapel. And now I'll take you to see General Lam."

Right, thought Giles as he thought back to the conversation that he'd had with Xander, Riley and the other two Initiative agents, I can't tell Lam about Dawn because they don't trust him yet. Deep waters here. Very deep waters.

No matter what he seemed to do the files just kept piling up. He'd read one, initial it and get rid of it and the next thing he know two more had arrived. It was as if they were breeding.

"Crap. Crap. More crap." Jack O'Neill leant back and sighed, running a hand through his hair and then looking at his desk with a great deal of dislike. It was at this point that the phone rang, saving him from more expletives. He reached over and answered it. "O'Neill."

"Hey Jack," said Xander Harris. "How's it going?"

"The usual," groused Jack as he sat at his desk and stared at the pile of paperwork by the door that he'd been putting off for the past week and a half.

"Oh. That bad?"

"Worse. Paperwork. What's up, Xander?"

"I need a favour. First things first I need you to send Major Davies out here along with a non-disclosure form. Daniel's training is being done by Oz right now."

Jack sat up straighter in his chair. "Oz is training Daniel? Your monosyllabic fellow-Jedi?"

"He's become a lot looser with his language since he became a Jedi. Once he starts to describe the Force he gets really into it. I'm not saying that he babbles like Willow, but you should have heard him a week ago. He was as loquacious as he ever gets."

"Ok, but why does he need to know about what Daniel does?" puzzled Jack.

"Jack, the relationship between a Jedi Knight and his Padawan is an important one. They can't have real secrets from each other. They have to trust each other. It's a given, it's a part of the nature of the training that takes place, There were no secrets between myself and Oz and myself and Lindsey. Oz needs to know about what Daniel does. He'll keep it secret, don't worry."

Jack blew out a breath and then nodded. "Ok, I'll talk to General Hammond and then send out Davies. You said that's the first thing though. What's up there?"

"Well, we have a... situation here."

The way that he said it raised the hackles on the back of Jack's neck. It was not a nice feeling. "What kind of situation?"

"Something nasty has come to town and she seems to be somewhat... invulnerable. So far at least."

Jack thought that through and then his brain stopped dead for a moment. "Invulnerable."

"Yes."

"Did... a certain something fail to work?"

"A certain something bounced off. It left a burn-like welt, but it still bounced off. Which was not good."

"I'll say," Jack ground out through clenched teeth. "What does this thing want?"

"I think it wants to go home."

"Where's home?"

"To use a Homerism, it's probably the Earth that has no doughnuts. Or has teeth in strange places. I think that we really need to talk on a secure line, because I'm having trouble coming up with euphemisms that fit the bill."

"I think that might be a good idea," Jack said, rubbing his forehead and resisting the temptation to rest his head on the desk. "I'll get an encrypted cell phone sent out as soon as possible. You can expect a knock on the door from a messenger who looks very uncomfortable in civilian clothes in... well, about two or three hours. I have a question first. Two actually. First, please tell me that you people have a plan."

"I have several. Two are wildly impractical, one is feasible and one is a great safeguard that will need your cooperation."

"Good to hear it. Second question: why is it you can talk about Jedi on a non-secure line, but not this mysterious something?"

"Because anyone listening will just think that I'm a Star Wars nut talking to a fellow Star Wars nut. On the other hand we don't know what this other thing in the way of allies so I don't want to talk freely about what we know about her and what we're thinking about."

"Both very good points. I'll talk to you again on that secure line in a few hours." Jack put the phone down and then he rested his head on the desk for a moment. He squelched the need to try and headbutt the damn thing into oblivion. Then he straightened up and picked up the phone again. Dialling swiftly he paused until it was answered. "General, this is O'Neill. We need to send Major Davis over to Sunnydale. We might have a situation there. Yes sir, it's our friend there."

As Giles shook hands with Lam he couldn't help feeling a certain amount of well-hidden unease. There was something about the man that set off certain faint but indefinable alarm bells at the back of his head. The problem was that he had no idea why. That was the problem with sixth sense sometimes, it could be so hard to describe. Maybe it was the rather stiff way that he seemed to hold himself, or maybe it was the odd look in his eyes, which seemed to burn with a certain something. It was almost impossible to describe and therefore Giles told his sixth sense to keep recording and then warn his conscious mind when it came up with something. There was bound to be something that his mind could turn up eventually, once it had a chance to think things over. He just hoped that alarms bells didn't start to ring at 3.45am again. Olivia had not been amused last time.

"General Lam, thank you for agreeing to see me," he said, trying to gauge the correct level of formality for this encounter. Normally he could tell almost at once, but right now he was getting very mixed signals.

"You're very welcome," Lam replied with a small smile, before gesturing to a seat. "Agent Finn said that you had intelligence on a new variant of HST."

"Ah, yes. I suppose you might describe her as that." Giles paused to hand over a copy of Xander's sketch of Glory. "This is, ah, Glory. Also known as Glorificus. Please do not let her general appearance allow you to draw the wrong conclusion about her. She is extremely dangerous. She is powerful, ruthless and, um, not entirely rational according to our intelligence."

"I... I see," said Lam as he looked intently at the picture. "Can I ask what she is?"

"She is a hell goddess from an alternate dimension."

"A what?"

"A hell goddess. A very powerful creature from a dimension that is saturated in magic, which gives her certain abilities that most, ah, HSTs lack. Fortunately for us she has been exiled from her home dimension and stripped of most of her powers, but she still possesses some of her abilities."

Something flashed over Lam's face at this point, an expression that came and went far too fast for Giles to identify. "Can I ask what these abilities might be?"

"A certain measure of invulnerability for one thing," replied Giles as he looked carefully at the man in front of him. "She survived having a warehouse dropped on her for a start."

One of Lam's eyebrows flickered upwards for a moment. "Interesting," he muttered. "Do you know why she's here? I mean, does she intend to open the Hellmouth or anything like that?"

"We think that she is in town to try and get her hands on an object called the Key, which would allow her to open a dimensional rift for the purposes of getting home. Given the inherent instabilities that surround dimensional rifts there is a very good chance that such an action might open portals to other worlds in the process that might result in all manner of, ah, highly unpleasant creatures being released here."

Lam's eyebrows both went up this time. "A dimensional rift?" he asked sceptically. "Is that at all likely?"

"We're talking about magic here General. And from all accounts a highly unstable creature that has a fixation on this. We know that she was thrown out of her home dimension into this one. We know that she's trying to get home. It's logical that she sees the Key as a means to an end. She very likely does not care about the impact of such means. In other words if her getting home results in large parts of other dimensions intruding into this one, she won't really care, as long she gets home herself."

"I see," replied Lam as he rubbed his hands together slowly. "This Key – do you have any idea where it is or what it looks like?"

"We're looking into a number of possible options," Giles said, hating the fact that he had to lie here. But Riley was right – there was something odd about this man, plus they did not yet have every assurance that the NID influence had been properly expunged from the Initiative. It was enough to warn them to avoid Glory. More information could be provided in the future. "However, we do have information that the Key has been made human."

Lam blinked hard at that news. "How did that happen?"

"It was being guarded by an order of monks in the Czech Republic. They were attacked by Glory, but before she slaughtered almost all of them they were able to complete an extremely powerful spell that cast the Key into human form and then sent it to Sunnydale. They apparently thought that Buffy, the Senior Slayer, would be able to discover it and guard it. Unfortunately Glory seems to have gathered enough intelligence about it to work out what happened and followed it here." He paused and then stared hard at Lam. "General, Glory is a mystical creature of great power – even with most of her magics stripped from her by her exile she is still not a creature to be trifled with. I strongly suggest that you make your people aware of her existence and stress that engaging her would be inadvisable for the time being, at least until we've been able to do more research into her and ascertain how she can be defeated."

"You want the Initiative to avoid contact with her?" Lam asked, with an odd look of cold amusement in his eyes. "Mr Giles, you ought to know by now that we have a job to do here. We protect and study. We don't avoid contact with a clear and present danger."

Bollocks, this wasn't going well thought Giles. "Perhaps," he said carefully, "You might be able to view it as careful reconnaissance. After all, engaging an enemy without all the information that is required might be said to be... inadvisable."

Lam looked at him again with a pair of shuttered eyes. "You might have a point," he conceded after a moment. "Do you have any further information?"

"Only that it is possible that she is able to have a severe impact on some people, again for reasons that we cannot yet determine. A security guard was discovered outside the warehouse where an associate of ours first encountered Glory. The guard was hopelessly mad and is currently in an asylum. Apparently he babbled about meeting Glory. We don't yet know what she did to him, but I think that until we do that might be another reason to observe her instead of engaging."

"This thing drove a man mad?" mused Lam as he looked at Giles again. "Interesting."

"Yes," agreed Giles. "And frightening. As I said, we need a lot more information as to her capabilities – and as to why she'd do such a thing."

"So what's the situation Xander?" Jack asked, this time over the secure phone that had been delivered half an hour ago by a man who looked like a very military civilian.

"We have a hell goddess called Glory running around Sunnydale," the Jedi replied with a certain understandable grimness. "She was thrown out of her own dimension for unnecessary roughness or something and was exiled to our dimension as a punishment. Apparently she was sealed in a human shell that was supposed to contain her."

"I take it that it that something went very wrong," mused Jack as he winced slightly.

"Theory with the Watcher's Council is that she's able to emerge from her human host for brief periods of time. We're not sure how. Probably uses magic somehow."

"Ok... So is she another Adam or something?"

"Apparently she had most of her powers taken away from her for being naughty. However she had a warehouse fall on her head and she survived, so there must be something remaining there. Oh and my lightsabre bounced off her."

This time Jack winced a lot. "How is that even possible?"

"Good question. I think you need to ask Sam about that. It might be that as she's from a different dimension her body has a slightly different molecular density. Or something."

"Been thinking about it I see."

"Oh, only for hours at a time. I'm making some tweaks to the lightsabre to adjust the strength of the blade. It might work."

"Ok, what do you need from us?"

"I need to talk to Sam about any dimension-related theories she might have. I don't think that an orbital strike from the Headhunter would be a good idea, as that might bring up a lot of awkward questions."

"Good point, people just might notice," Jack conceded. "Why exactly is she in Sunnydale by the way?"

"She's after something called the Key. It's a dimensional portal thingie made up of energy that a bunch of monks were guarding in the Czech Republic. That is until Glory heard about and tried to take it."

"So what happened then?"

"Oh they used the most powerful magic possible to turn it into a human and then send it to Sunnydale."

Jack's mouth dropped open for a moment at that. "They made a human?"

"Jack, I'd love to quote you a line from something called Blackadder that Giles showed me recently, but yes."

"Do you know who this key is?"

"Yes. Buffy's sister Dawn."

Jack blinked. "You're being very free with this information. Whatever happened to 'need to know'?"

"You need to know in this case because if we fail you might need to intervene. Glory wants to go home, wherever the hell that might be. If she has to tear a hole in the universe that leads to giant Stay-Pufft marshmallow men marching down the road and then trying to hitch a ride to see the showgirls in Vegas, then you need to bring the hammer down on this place. I mean it Jack – we have some plans, but if we fail then you might get stuck with the shitty end of the stick."

"What a lovely way with words you have today," sighed Jack wearily. "If the lightsabre fails then what's your back-up plan?"

"Well, we might need your help there. One way of protecting the Key might be to get it off the planet."

"You mean through the Stargate?"

"Got it in one. That's our ace in the hole. Hopefully you won't have an angry Hell Goddess hammering on those huge doors at Cheyenne Mountain as a result, but that's the plan."

"Sneaky. I like it. Ok, Carter's with her father right now in San Diego, on a family visit. She always has a secure line on her, so it shouldn't be a problem talking to her. I'll give her a call first to tell her to expect your call, so you can talk about dimension-related stuff to your hearts' content."

"Is her father cleared for what she does?"

"Her father has a clearance level that you wouldn't believe. He's a Tok'ra. Long story, I'll tell you some day. In the meantime I'll call Carter. Has Davis turned up yet?"

"Not just yet. Didn't you say he was in Washington most of the time?"

"Normally yes, but he's been briefing the Governor of California over a little black project that went FUBAR recently. Nothing you're familiar with, just one of those things that tend to crop up and bite people on the ass every now and then. He should be banging on your door soon, so to speak."

"Ok, I'll keep an eye out for him and then direct him towards Oz and Daniel when I do. How's the paperwork coming by the way?"

"Your calls kind of made me re-prioritise is. Not a bad thing at all as we have Daniel's temporary replacement coming in soon."

"What's he like?"

"Good pilot. He survived the training we threw at him and when we stuck him in the Headhunter and told him to fly it he put in quite a good display. I think that the ground crew threatened to break his fingers if he didn't get out of it afterwards, so he seems to like your little creation. By the way we've got the go-ahead, in case you didn't know. Some production facilities are going to get very busy real soon."

"Good," smiled Xander grimly. "If I survive this thing with Glory pencil me in for some training time. Your people are going to need a lot of wargaming and a lot of training if you're going to get the most out of the Headhunter. Is it going to get a new officially-approved name by the way?"

"Nah, we thought about calling it something fancy like the Merlin or the Goa'uld Ass-Kicker, but that didn't come off right, so we're sticking with the Headhunter. And why not?"

"Good point. Jack, I gotta go. Good luck with Daniel's replacement."

"Good luck with your hell goddess, Xander. Hey, now don't you die on us, or I'll kick your ass as well." He paused and sobered his tone. "Seriously, let me know if you need anything."

"I might tap you for two of those nifty superconductors soon. Daniel and Rebecca are going to need lightsabres soon and I think that if the Initiative keeps requesting – and mysteriously losing – those things, then someone might start to ask awkward questions."

"No problem. Send me a request at the right time and I'll have Carter whip something up. She's been improving the plan for those things."

"Sounds good to me. See you when I see you Jack."

"You too Xander." Jack put the phone down and then leant back in his chair to stare at the wall opposite. He was very glad that he didn't live on the Hellmouth. Life was far too busy as it was on the base. A goddess... from a hell dimension. No, he was quite sure that he really didn't want to have one of those hanging around right now. Then he sighed and leant forwards to pick up the phone again. Oh Carter was just going to love this. She'd make all kinds of odd noises down the phone at him for a start. And then he had to collect the rookie. Joy.

Cameron Mitchell checked his uniform for the third time in as many minutes and then carefully replaced his peaked cap under his armpit at the correct angle. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd ever felt this nervous. Well, he'd been pretty nervous when he went solo for the first time. And he'd been more than a bit nervous when he'd flown over the No-Fly zone in Iraq for the first time, especially when a mobile radar unit had locked onto him for a minute or so during a rather tense time in the area. Oh and he'd almost wet himself the first time that he'd dated Liz Hertstone, as her father had looked like a huge slab of rock with fists attached.

Ok, his mind was wandering again. He thought about checking his uniform once more but then dragged himself together. SG-1. He was going to join SG-freaking-1. Ok, so he was acting as cover for Dr Jackson, but he was getting his foot in the door for a place in the SGC.

Plus it meant that he had a better chance of flying a Headhunter again. That flight had blown his mind completely. That craft... hell, she flew like a dream. He'd never flown anything that could accelerate that fast, or stop on a dime that way, that could turn in an instant and then pounce...

He heard footsteps down the corridor and he braced himself. The door opened and a Colonel with salt-and-pepper hair came in wearing fatigues. His name tag read "O'NEILL" and Cameron suppressed a certain amount of awe. Colonel O'Neill was a legend for a whole host of reasons. He fixed Cameron with a somewhat beady eye and then replied to Cameron's inch-perfect salute with a salute that contained a certain amount of snap.

"Welcome to the SGC, Major," the Colonel said briskly. "Congratulations on making it here. I'll take to see General Hammond."

"Yes, sir," said Cameron. And then he followed his new team leader through the door. He would have to restrain his whoop of glee until later.

"Ball!" The toddler waved the sphere that it was carefully holding in both hands up and down again and then looked up at him. Then she wandered determinedly over to him on rather unsteady legs and waved the ball at him again. "Gran'da! Ball!"

"Yes, sweetie, ball," said Jacob Carter with a wide smile of encouragement as he looked down at his latest grandchild.

Ellie stared at him gravely and then she carefully handed him the ball before stepping back and then beaming at him. "Gaaah!" she squealed as he placed the ball on his forefinger and then spun it really quickly so that it rotated on the tip of his finger. It was his patented trick that he had learnt from his early years of being a parent. It never seemed to lose its fascination for the younger members of the Carter family, because Ellie watched with very wide eyes for a moment before she clapped her hands excitedly and then squealed again.

"I remember that from I was a kid," said Mark to one side softly. His son smiled. "Remember that time when I was 6 and you did it with two basketballs?"

"Oh yes," he smiled. "Took me a lot of practice, but then you'd just come out of hospital without your tonsils." He smiled as Ellie waved her hands for the ball before he leant over and gently handed it over to her. She smiled a huge smile and then yawned.

"It's an hour past your bedtime young lady!" exclaimed Mark with mock-severe tones, before he held out his hand. She took it, whilst she used the other to rub at her eyes sleepily as the ball rolled off to one side. "I'll get her to bed. Thanks Dad, you've been great with her."

"Not a problem," Jacob smiled at his son. "Night-night sweetie." He bent over for a mumblingly wet kiss on the cheek and then watched as the two of them walked back to the house.

"That child is quite adorable," Selmak said in his head.

"Yes she is," Jacob muttered in response. Then he turned his head to the other side of the garden, to where Sam was pacing and talking into her phone. "Better see what's going on there," he sighed.

As he drew closer to his daughter she caught sight of him and raised her eyebrows at him before turning her attention back to the phone. "I still don't see how that's possible," she complained in that tone of voice that he knew far too well. It meant that she'd had some news that she just couldn't make fit in to her world view. "I mean, what could be so strong that an energy weapon like a lightsabre would just bounce off it?"

A lightsabre? Damn, this must be something to do with that Harris guy again. Jacob winced internally. That whole thing sounded incredible – unless of course you knew the people involved. He'd read the files. And as for the Headhunter... that spoke more eloquently than anything else of technology that had not developed on Earth or any of the other major (or minor) powers of the galaxy.

"Yes, Jacob, I agree that it all sounds quite bizarre," said Selmak internally. "The High Council will find it very hard to believe – whenever we get around to telling them. They might require proof, so perhaps we should wait a bit."

Jacob grinned internally. Selmak was quite the maverick, which was why he liked the Tok'Ra so hugely. Well, he had to really, as they were blended.

Sam had been listening to something during all of this, because she raised her eyebrows and then grimaced slightly. "Well, yes, that's possible," she conceded. "We've had some experience of alternate dimensions, but not a hell dimension fortunately. I'd hate to even speculate on their existence. Still, based on what you said about different energy levels in alternate dimensions and the possibility of variations on the laws of physics, based on quantum mechanics, yes I agree that molecular laws might be different. I can't really say anything more without better information though." A pause. "Sure, I can work out some theoretical constructs. Give me a few days though. We're due to go back to the base tomorrow anyway." Another pause. "Okay. Good luck Xander."

Jacob watched as she terminated the call. "What was that about?"

"Trouble," she replied grimly. "When we get somewhere more private I need to talk to Selmak about alternate dimensions."

It hadn't been so bad this time, Paul Davies thought as he settled into his seat and then squinted out of the window. The sun would be setting soon. According to the forecast it looked it would be a good clear night for flying, with a full moon and minimal cloud. He sighed and then pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. He was extremely tired. He'd have a nap on the plane until it landed back at the base near the SGC, then he'd crash at a room in one of the barracks. Once he'd finished off things at the SGC tomorrow then he'd be on the next flight out to Washington and hopefully his apartment and his long-suffering fiancée.

Hell, it had been a long day. Briefing politicians took a lot out of him sometimes, depending on who they were. Some were the kind of people who needed lots of words of one syllable. Others, like the President, were sharper than a tack and had a distressing tendency to put their finger on the weak point of any presentation. And then there were people like the Governor of California, who were a mass of contradictions and who confused the hell out of him because they asked a combination of smart and dumb questions.

Sunnydale had not helped afterwards at all. Briefing another Jedi about the activities of the SGC had been... odd. Colonel O'Neill had been very insistent about the briefing, even though this Daniel Osbourne was not a member of the Armed Forces at all. Maybe a Jedi could be considered a sort-of-maybe-adjunct to the Armed Forces.

Just thinking about threatened to give him another headache. Especially given Osbourne's reaction to the news that there was a gateway to other plants sitting under Cheyenne Mountain. The guy had been so laid back he'd reminded him of Teal'c. The Jedi had leant back in his chair, flickered an eyebrow, said "Cool," in a considering way and then listened closely to the rest of the briefing.

What had been equally interesting was the general appearance of Dr Jackson. Davies now full well that the archaeologist tended to vary between highly focussed and so distracted by a new piece of research that he could be totally switched off. He'd never seen Dr Jackson look so... composed. Alert. And, yes, calm.

He closed his eyes and then leant back in the seat. He needed sleep right now. If he paused to think about how weird his life could be sometimes then he'd develop a raging attack of insomnia.

As he reached the top of the hill he slowed to a halt and then stopped. The only reason why he wasn't throwing up in the bushes to one side was that his lungs needed oxygen rather more urgently right now. God, he hurt right now. Every part of him felt as if it had been beaten up by tiny invisible trolls. He paused for a moment. No, he should really not think like that on a Hellmouth. It might be a bad case of tempting fate, and that would be a bad thing. Jack was always telling him not to tempt fate, which was a slightly unfair point as he was always warning Jack about exactly the same thing.

Daniel looked to one side at the Jedi Knight who had accompanied him on this little dash, and who now was leaning against a tree and looking out at Sunnydale. Damn it, the man wasn't even panting for breath! Plus he'd absorbed the news about the SGC with little more than a flicker of an eyebrow and a muttered "Cool."

"I've learnt to keep very fit here," Oz said, thus demonstrating to Daniel an uncanny knack of reading his mind. Well, perhaps not – his body language had probably been pretty obvious.

"I thought.... that... I... was... in shape," panted Daniel as he reached the point where his lungs no longer needed every scrap of his attention. "I train with Teal'c... and Jack... and Sam... plus we do a lot of... running around..."

Oz smiled gnomically for a moment. "So do we. When we have to." He looked about and then gestured at the grass. "Have a seat."

Daniel sat down on the grass, still panting, and looked out over the landscape that was spread out before them. Sunnydale looked almost nice at this time of the day, with the sun setting slowly off to one side. It would be night in a few hours. Time for the darkness that lived under the streets and in the houses and in other places to come out and start to play.

"What do you see?" asked Oz.

He paused and then looked out again. "Um, Sunnydale? Or is that too broad-brush?"

"No, it's good. Now, what do you sense?"

"With the Force?" asked Daniel as he tried to get his mind off his physical senses and onto his mental acuities via the Force.

Oz seemed to be majoring in body language at College, because he held up a finger. "You need to start opening your mind to the Force all the time. I could see you gathering your thoughts and starting to turn to the Force. It's good that you can – the more practice at opening yourself up to the Force the better – but if you might not have the time to make that switch sometimes."

Daniel thought about that for a moment and then smiled slightly. "I can see that," he conceded. "It's not easy when you're trying to decide if you should be breathing or throwing up."

The Jedi Knight laughed softly. "That's one of the points Xander makes about the training. It's a way of training your mind as well as your body – you need to be able to push yourself that bit further, to tell yourself that what you used to think is possible and not possible might not be as cut and dried as you think." He paused. "I get a bit eloquent at this point according to Willow. In the past you used to think that certain things couldn't be done, and that's something that you've been working on with Xander. Now you have a better idea about the changes to that the Force makes to the world. It's going to be the same with your body and your mind. You're going to be getting very fit very fast. At the same time you're going to be learning how to use the Force at all times. It's not going to be easy.

"When you run – when you train – imagine a small window opening in your mind. That window will be your use of the Force. Keep it small at first. Think of it as a form of multi-tasking. Achieving it will be very important as it's a vital step. The longer you hold that window open then the faster you can open it in the future and the wider that window will get."

Daniel scratched his right eyebrow thoughtfully. And then he nodded. "How can I do that?"

Oz smiled that slight, enigmatic, smile that he had, before he started talking.

Lilah looked out at the view that was spread out in front of her. Her new apartment was at the top of a very large apartment block and was quite expansive. It gave her just the right amount of space and had a superb view. It also came with a great room what she'd had outfitted into a training room. It contained the minimum of training equipment – a running machine, a bench press and a rowing machine – and the maximum of space to practice with her lightsabre.

The place hadn't been cheap, but then she had more than enough money from the funds that she'd raised from selling off Dansey's various secret properties. The shrivelled old fool had been quite well-off and above all else there had been no family to claim his legal holdings. There had been a son once, but he had vanished a long time ago. Lilah had wondered about that point. Why had Dansey's only relative vanished so completely? Perhaps he'd known, or suspected, what his father was. Well, that left all the more for her, and let no-one claim that she didn't deserve it, not after all the crap that the old bastard had put her through in her training. The illegal holdings still made her smile lazily every once in a while. Every now and then some new nugget of money kept popping out of wherever he'd squirreled it away. He'd been a very busy little judge, with all kinds of non-traceable corruptions.

She had everything now. She had all of his archives for a start. They were mostly very dull, but they did have some interesting insights into the use of the Force.

She also had a better idea about what his big plan had been. It was impressively ambitious, at least if it had been what she suspected it was. Dansey had been on his way up the judicial ranks and had been pencilled in for the California Supreme Court. There had been some notes written down in a one of his books, which contained notations on changes to the law in some areas and other areas. Some of those notes had been on members of the Supreme Court, such as who was old and ailing and who could therefore be susceptible to an... accident. That thought alone was enough to both thrill and chill her. She'd been right about where he'd been heading. A Sith on the Supreme Court...

But the Supreme Court did not hold the constitutional keys to the White House. Well, they might in the case of a contested election, but that would just be to help place someone like a presidential candidate into the Presidency. Being on the Supreme Court did not put you in the line of succession to the Presidency.

Not unless all the other candidates were dead that is. The problem was that getting rid of the others meant getting rid of the Cabinet and the Senate and the House of Representatives, and doing that might just call some attention down on whoever was behind such a bloodbath. Dansey had been a scumbag but he hadn't been a mass-murdering scumbag. Not that he couldn't have been a mass-murdering scumbag, but he had been too smart and too careful to even think about drawing that kind of attention to himself. Not without a huge smokescreen and a way to point the finger at someone or something else.

So he must have had some other plan in mind, one that either involved her or him in some devious and underhanded manner. The problem was that she still just couldn't work out what that plan might be, and that annoyed her. She hated it when people were sneakier than she was.

Well. Enough. She strode out into the middle of the training room and then she ignited her lightsabre. The best way to take that annoyance out was to practice as hard as she could whilst using the Force. It helped her to think – about her plans and not the pathetic plotting of Holland Manners that seemed to take up his entire day.

Her boss had dropped the Sunnydale issue with a suddenness that had surprised her and she was almost tempted to go there herself and see what was going on with this Harris person. However, that would be a mistake – the firm was keeping a close eye on the Hellmouth, albeit from a distance. If she went there she would be spotted and her unauthorised visit would be frowned on and would attract a bit too much notice. She preferred to stay under the radar for the time being.

No, Manners was instead fixated on his latest and deeply pathetic plan, to mess with Angel's head via the resurrected Darla. She could tell that it was going to fail. For one thing she had been brought as a human, not a vampire. That was a somewhat glaring error. And secondly manners had failed to understand the help that the vampire with a soul was getting from his friends. The brainless ditz of the secretary was turning out to have very hidden depths and the half-Brachen demon was also showing unexpected signs of a backbone. The arrival of the Slayer and her Watcher had also spiced up the mix. They were proving to be more than the slight pebble in Wolfram & Hart's shoe that Manners claimed them to be. They were more like a six-inch nail through the firm's foot.

She shrugged. It wasn't as if they were any threat to her. Not just at the moment anyway. Maybe in the future – but then she'd have the right way of dealing with them. Chopping them up into pieces would do for a start. She smiled and then she launched into her training routine.

She had her own plans now.