Part Three

Giles had found everyone chairs and made everyone tea; Buffy and Cordelia had been shooting covert glances at each other the whole time - each trying not to let the other young woman notice. Cordy was sticking with her assessment that something was different about Buffy - though she couldn't quite place it, just a different aura about her that spoke of something Cordy didn't quite understand.

Buffy had been just as quick to notice differences in Cordelia. Her hair was short - that was new; a chic, wavy bob which framed her face. It suited her. But there was more than just the obvious difference. Cordelia had introduced Doyle to Dawn and explained about his visions, and there was just something in her expression, every time she looked at this short, unprepossessing, little man - a softness that Buffy would never have expected to see on Cordelia's face. It was as if the meanest girl in Sunnydale had suddenly grown a heart … and over this guy, of all people. And there was something else, something in her eyes - the way she looked at you that suggested … Buffy wasn't sure what, but it was different to the vapid, self centred way Cordy had viewed the world back in high school.

'So … Giles tells me you're a slayer now?' She asked, she couldn't help a slight grin appear on her face as she thought of Cordelia having to go out and save people, but she bit it back. 'How's that working out?'

Cordelia saw the faint trace of a smile - and flushed with annoyance. Whatever the indefinable difference was, she was still the same holier than thou Buffy. 'Well, you know, it would have been nice to be asked first - it's been kind of a game changer. It's not like I wanted this.'

Well, no matter how soft-hearted Cordelia might be these days - she still had that towering sense of entitlement. Some things never changed. 'Gee, Cordy - next time I need to save the world from unspeakable evil, I'll make sure to double check that it's not an inconvenience to you.'

Cordy tutted. Here it was - same old same old - Buffy acting like no one else's feelings were important. 'That's so like you, Buffy. Always the same. I have serious, legitimate pain here and you're all "blah blah must protect the world" - you don't ever think about anything but your own thing.'

God! Cordelia really thought the world revolved around her. 'I'm the slayer, Cordy, my "thing" is pretty crucial.'

'Yeah - well, thanks to you, now I'm the slayer too.'

'You're welcome.'

The heads of the others had turned back and forth as the two slayers verbally sparred - as if they were watching a particularly thrilling rally at a tennis match.

Cordelia snorted, when she spoke her voice was high; irritated and brittle. 'You know, you can just hand wave this whole thing - pretend you did what you had to and it's no big deal. But it is a big deal. To me. To those little girls upstairs abandoned by their parents for being superfreaks. You've seriously screwed up our lives - you can't just go round pretending like we're in the wrong for not being thrilled about that. You know, we actually manage to save the world on a semi- regular basis,' she motioned between her and Doyle, 'we've never changed people's whole destinies to do it.'

It was Buffy's turn to snort. 'The two of you? Save the world? You mean Angel saves the world and you carry his weapons and take his calls.'

'Hey! Just last year Doyle killed an ancient God, hell bent on world domination - not Angel.'

Doyle shifted uncomfortably in his seat, 'there was that whole part about how I was the one that inadvertently unleashed her on the world though, princess, I was only cleaning up my own mess.'

But Cordelia only waved her hand airily, as if dismissing his words, 'and Angel is always going off the deep end, evil or just in a really bad mood; lurking in dark corners and sketching. When that happens - who do you think holds down the fort? We do. That's who. We help the hopeless.'

'Then I would think having slayer powers would come in handy.'

'I was a pretty good fighter before all this went down. I had my own thing as well, my own place at Angel Investigations - I had an entire business to run. Plus I sorted everyone's injuries for them. Now I have to run a business and go out and fight every night and fix up my own injuries. I'm just saying - in your shoes, I would have thought through the ramifications of Willow's spell for a little longer before I just decided that was the plan.'

'Cordelia - get out of my shoes.'

She arched an eyebrow and glared pointedly at Buffy's feet, 'like I'd wear those things.' Buffy opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by Giles clearing his throat. 'All right, ladies, we're not in the library.' Everyone stared around at the room full of books. 'What I mean to say - this isn't high school. A lot of time has passed, you have both grown and changed and experienced things your younger selves probably couldn't even imagine. So there's no need to relate to each other like you're still in a battle to the death over who becomes Homecoming Queen.' Both women shifted in their seats, folded their arms and refused to look each other in the eye. 'Right, then,' Giles said cheerfully as if everything was resolved. 'Now - Cordelia is a part of the slayer outfit, whether that is something either of you would have chosen or not, and she wishes to know more about what it is we do as an organisation and what the limits of her power are. She has as much right to ask for that as all the other girls we have here.'

'OK, fine,' Buffy agreed. She looked up and raked her eyes over Cordelia. 'As I'm here, I'll review the troops - run a training session for the older girls and see where we are - who's battle ready, any weak spots.' Her expression became challenging. 'If you think you're up to it - you can train with the slayers.'

Cordelia met the challenge in Buffy's eyes with her own, 'fine.'

Dawn, however, was looking less than impressed. 'You're gonna spend all day training?' She asked in disbelief. 'What am I gonna do? Sit in the corner and watch? I can't believe I'm missing school for this.'

'Dawny, this is a good chance for me to see where we're up to with training. You can spend the afternoon with Giles.'

'I do have some fascinating research planned,' he told her. The teenager looked even less thrilled. Doyle saw her expression and smiled sympathetically. It must be hard being the normal kid sister of a superhero - not dissimilar to living your whole life as the short sidekick of an impossibly handsome vampire. Never being the special one, always having to come second and be OK with that - because the world needed the special person and the special person needed your support. 'You know,' he said, 'you girls are off to train - and I bet me and Dawn are only gonna slow Giles down if we try to help with the research … Why don't we leave the slayer gang to it and go … someplace else? London's pretty big - I'm sure we can find somethin' to do that's better than hangin' around here all day. See some sights, get in trouble - it'll be fun.'

Dawn looked surprised but grateful, and began to smile. Buffy, however, was looking less than convinced. 'Are you sure you can keep her safe?' she asked, raking her eyes over Doyle as if assessing his abilities to fend off demon hordes that might attack her sister. But Dawn only rolled her eyes, 'I'm 17!' she cried, 'I can keep myself safe!'

'I used to be a teacher - I can do the whole educational day trip thing. Never lost a kid yet … I did kidnap one one time but …' he shook his head, 'there were circumstances.'

Buffy still did not look reassured, but Dawn had already put her coat on and was not hanging around to be told she had to stay in the library and spend her day researching. So in the end, the slayer gave in - and Dawn and Doyle left, Doyle swiftly kissing Cordy goodbye. 'Don't really get Dawny into trouble,' she murmured as their lips brushed against each other.

'Hey - I am a trouble free zone.'

'Don't get you into trouble either.'

'I promise.'

'And don't go and see anything I might wanna see with you.'

'Scouts honour - crappy tourist destinations only.'

Once they were gone, Buffy and Cordy made their way up to the attic training rooms and Giles settled down to start researching The Scourge.


There was a knock at the door, Spike cursed and rolled out of bed. The clock told him it was still early, the kind of time corporates like Angel would get up and start the rat race. He was a creature of the night, he shouldn't be disturbed at this hour. 'Alright, alright,' he muttered - as the hammering at the door continued, 'bloody hell.'

He pulled the door open, Doyle was standing there - that insufferable, smug grin he always wore was on his face. No wonder this git and Angel had been friends - they were both the most self satisfied sons of bitches Spike had ever known. 'I see you've learned to knock,' he said pointedly.

'You locked the door,' Doyle shrugged. 'Didn't want to interrupt you if you - uh - needed the privacy. Aren't you gonna invite me in?'

Spike walked away - leaving the door open, and the other man took that as his invite and followed him inside. The vampire had headed on over to the fridge and taken out a beer. Sure it was early morning here in Los Angeles, but it must be past 12 somewhere in the world. If the sun was over the yardarm… hell, he was a vampire, he didn't need to justify early morning drinking - even with a soul. 'So what brings you here, Doyle?' he asked, taking a swig and watching his messenger over his beer bottle. He wasn't sure he trusted this guy.

Sure, Angel had trusted him for years - but a) Angel was a ponce and a great big tit and b) this guy had turned on Angel and gone to Spike behind his back. Now b) only further proved that a) was true - but if this guy could turn on Angel, after all these years at that, then he could turn on Spike as well. He couldn't help but get the feeling that Doyle was using him, though he didn't know for what.

Doyle smirked even wider and stuck his hand in his pocket, pulling out a crystal and holding it up. 'Shiny,' Spike remarked.

'Hey - I went to a lot of trouble to get this. Met with some dangerous types - real dangerous types, some who want me dead.'

'And yet here you are.'

'I can take care of myself.'

'And what exactly is it that you want that hunk o' rubble for?'

Doyle sat down on the couch and leaned his head back. He had been out in the underworld, talking to mystics - guys who were connected to the great beyond, more so than he was even. He'd asked about the ritual Greenway had performed - the one with the candles and the dead nuns - asked what type of portal that kind of magic might open, where it might lead to.

'And?' Spike asked, interested despite himself.

'A sacrifice of holy women means he's headed into one of the darker dimensions, one governed by dark powers - the kind of place they'd welcome a nun slaughterer.'

'You telling me this bloke jumped into hell?' Spike asked, sounding somewhere between surprised and annoyed. 'Even if that's true, that doesn't help us. There are loads of hell dimensions. Thousands.' He began to count them off on his fingers. 'You got your fire hell, your ice hell, your …' he paused and wrinkled his brow trying to think of another. 'Ice hell, your upside down hell…'

'Doesn't matter if he's gone to toy poodles on parade hell - you'd go there and get him back, 'cause you're the good guy and that's what the good guy does. But anyways,' he rested his hands against the back of his head and smiled up at Spike, 'you really think a guy like Greenway took a calculated jump into hell?… not his style.'

'But you said -'

'I said he was in one of the darker dimensions. That doesn't mean 'hell' as we homo sapiens have conceived of it. It just means a place where … the morals are a bit more fast and loose, where the PTB can't quite reach.'

'But you can?'

Doyle smiled again. 'Now, Greenway's human - he's gonna wanna go to a dimension where humans won't stand out, where he won't get himself eaten on sight. Needs an atmosphere he can breathe. Food, water - and let's be honest, he hasn't escaped justice here to go to one of the third world dimensions. He's used to living in style, so he'll want to go to a place he has connections - a place he can pick up his old life as if he were still at home. No slumming it, no scavenging, no hiding in caves from things that want him dead … Add in everything we know - and that sort of narrows our options right down from thousands to … one.'

'It does?'

Doyle nodded and held the crystal up, 'and this bad boy is gonna get you there - and back… assuming you wouldn't rather slaughter five nuns of your own, of course?'


Cordelia took a deep breath, and slowly raised her left arm away from the ground - so she was left balancing on only her right hand; her legs sticking up straight in the air in the perfect handstand. Around her, nineteen other slayers in their late teens and early twenties did the same. 'Feel the energy flowing through you,' Buffy told them from the front of the class. 'Each breath is your life force, your essence, your spirit. As it flows through you, you can feel it - harness it - to control your thoughts and your movements. Just breathe - and be…'

Cordelia closed her eyes and focused on her breathing and on keeping herself perfectly balanced. She felt a sense of inner calm, it was a deep peace that she had never felt before. Previous meditation, such as she had ever done it, had centred around creating positive energy and achieving personal goals. But this was much quieter - more neutral and more focused. It was just her, her life force and her power; all coming together to create this moment of perfect balance.

'Now bring your subordinate hand back down,' Buffy said. Cordelia's left palm hit against the mat again, and her body shifted a little now her balance was changed. 'And then bring yourself down, rolling forward.' Cordelia tucked her legs and turned her handstand into a forward roll, sitting back up once she was right side up once more. Around her, the other young slayers sat cross legged on their own mats and listened to Buffy.

Buffy was talking to them about Taoist breathing methods and how the concept of Chi could help them in their training. Cordelia narrowed her eyes and watched her closely. This was different - bringing eastern philosophy into her fighting. The Buffy that Cordy had known - she had been big with the punching and kicking, not so much with the thinking. Sure, she'd always had a plan up her sleeve, but she had been more reactive in her style; flown by the seat of her pants and taken each demon as they had come. And training had mostly involved shutting the library down to visitors and pummelling Giles. Somewhere along the line, Buffy had taken more of an interest in the theory behind fighting, and started to learn the principles behind different martial arts credos. And now she was not only using these herself, but passing them along to others.

Angel had always been into Tai Chi, though he hadn't probably gone in much for the breathing exercises. Which meant this was something Buffy had studied and learned for herself, once Angel was gone. And the things she knew now had changed her. To Cordelia, Buffy had always been her not quite friend, who she didn't quite like who just happened to have superpowers - but now she was more than that, it went deeper. She was a warrior. And Cordelia wondered if that was the change she had noticed earlier.

'OK,' Buffy said, 'get back to your feet - it's time to spar, I wanna see what your fighting technique is like.'

The girls stood up and got into partners, they took up starting positions and then - on Buffy's command - began to trade blows, ducking and weaving and dancing around. Cordelia kept her weight on the balls of her feet - her opponent rushed at her and she shifted her balance and used the momentum of the other girl's run to flip her over. Then she held out her hand to pull the other slayer to her feet and they took up starting positions again.

Buffy was walking in between the couples, stopping to watch them - giving pointers, positioning them and correcting their posture, sometimes giving quick demonstrations. Even with her hands full, sparring with another slayer, Cordy kept an eye on her - watching her work. She was more sure of herself now than she had been - though after so many years that shouldn't be a surprise. But there was a confidence in her abilities, that allowed her to pass on what she knew, that had never been there before. Maybe it was just time, maybe it was a confidence that came from dying and coming back or maybe it was after training potential slayers last year - but Buffy was more than just a slayer now, she was a teacher and a mentor. She was a General.

Buffy had always been the centre of their little gang, she had always been the one they looked to to save the day - and she had done, unfailingly. But Giles had been the boss, the grownup. She had deferred to him and his knowledge, needed his support and his training. And now she didn't. As Cordelia watched the other slayer move around the room and train the other girls, she realised that Buffy had surpassed all that - grown past her need for guidance. Grown up. And she knew it.

She was the boss now - and Giles answered to her. That's why the sign on the building was a 'B', because this was her outfit. She was remaking the watcher's council in her own image - making it work for her and the other slayers rather than the other way around. She had faced every monster imaginable, fought every battle thrown at her and come out on top and changed the system in the process. And that was why she seemed different. That was the change to her aura, to the expression in her eyes. She had gone from a weapon of the watcher's council, fighting for her life and with the weight of the world on her shoulders to the leader of the council, the boss, the mentor, the expert.

As Cordelia ducked the fist of her opponent whilst watching Buffy patiently coaching these younger girls, she realised that high school was a very long time ago and that she and Buffy were both very different people to the girls they had once been.


Doyle and Dawn had been to London Zoo, where Dawn had been very taken with the lion cubs and Doyle had been slightly unnerved by the spider monkeys, and then walked back through Regent's Park. They had headed to Baker Street, discovered that Sherlock Holmes' house was actually a bank and, disappointed, made their way to the museum that was housed a few doors down.

'It's a cheat is what it is,' Doyle said, as they queued for their tickets. He paid their admission, still grumbling, and the two of them went up the narrow rickety stairs to the fake 221 B.

'How does this place even work?' Dawn asked, 'Sherlock Holmes wasn't real ... You can't have a museum of fake stuff. What's in here?'

The answer was rather underwhelming. The place was set out like the great detective's apartment - his dining room and sitting room on one level and his bedroom higher up. There were several wax work figures - and little placards explaining who they were and, behind ropes and under glass, artefacts that purported to be from several of Holmes' cases - along with a description of how they had helped him solve the case.

'This place is mad,' Dawn said, shaking her head as she read a sign telling her the clearly plastic black sphere was the black pearl of the Borgias which Sherlock Holmes had uncovered during the adventure of the six Napoleons. 'I don't know what's more mad, this place, or us for being here.'

'Well - you know - at least we can say we've been.'

She laughed. 'Oh yeah - 'cause everyone's always asking me if I've been to the Sherlock Holmes Museum. It's been so embarrassing having to say 'no' all these years.'

They headed back down to the gift shop where, despite their misgivings about the place, they still bought a deerstalker hat and a pipe between them - and then they headed back out to the busy road.

They weren't far from Madam Tussauds, but once they got there the line was so impossibly long that they didn't even consider joining it. So instead they took a break from their sightseeing and headed into an 'American' diner for a milkshake.

Dawn came to a stop in the doorway and stared around at the flags and the jukebox, the shiny chrome of the counter and the red leather of the booths and the roller skating waitresses. A chalkboard menu listed the different burgers on offer. Burgers seemed to be the only food on the menu. 'Wow - this place is aggressive. Is this really what they think of us?'

'This is how the rest of the world views America, yeah - sobering sight isn't it?'

They took a seat at a booth and Dawn continued to stare around, 'I've never been in a place like this when I lived at home. This is like if Disney did American Diners - you know? An overblown exaggeration of reality.'

Doyle nodded, 'I got a British friend, Wesley, back in L.A. He goes to this place - a British theme pub. It's … kinda exactly like this only America doin' Britain rather than Brits doin' America. You know - tryin' too hard to be somethin' it's not. Flags, music, poor attempts to copy the food and drink o' the culture… but for some reason, perhaps 'cause it's so bad, Wes finds the place soothin'. He goes there when he misses home.'

'Do you miss home?' Dawn asked him, her voice was suddenly very casual - and she was looking down at the menu, her concentration a bit too intense. Doyle studied her for a moment. 'Sometimes,' he said, 'though I've been gone so long now that the home I left wouldn't be the home I'd be goin' back to - if that makes sense? Ireland has moved on without me, and I miss somethin' that doesn't exist anymore.'

Her forehead wrinkled as she thought about this, but she didn't look up. 'I guess that makes sense… how long do you think it takes for that to be true? Could you go back after a year or …' her voice was still hyper casual, though her furrowed brow belied her tone.

'Nothin' much has changed in California since you left, Dawn,' he told her, softly. She looked up at last, and relief was clear in her expression. 'So - uh - are you missin' America?' he asked her.


Spike yelled as he fell through space and then felt his body slam against the hard ground. 'Right then,' he said blearily, 'we won't be portal jumping again.' He pulled himself upright, wincing with pain and stared around him. There wasn't much to see, he was surrounded by a thick layer of dense smog. He frowned. Doyle had told him Greenway would have had to have jumped to a dimension with a breathable atmosphere but this … if Spike wasn't a vampire he could tell this black cloud of pollution would be choking him.

He stood up and began to walk through the dark haze. It triggered a memory - long forgotten - of the pea-soupers that would descend on London back when he was alive, when people would stumble through the streets - unable to see their hands in front of their faces - and fall victim to the knives of desperate criminals who hid in the fog; losing their purses if they were lucky, their lives if they were not. This was worse though - and it was only because of his predatory night vision that he was able to see where to put his feet. Remembering his past made him wary and alert as he stumbled onward, he had no idea what kind of nasty might be lurking in this gloom.

But - far from criminals and monsters looming out of the darkness - he appeared to be completely alone. The place was deserted and silent, the fog muffled even his own footsteps. Slowly, he became aware that he was walking down a road - though an empty one with no traffic - and that there were buildings on either side of him, though no people came in or out. 'Literal ghost town - that's what this bloody is,' he muttered to himself.

He crossed to one building and pulled on the door - it opened easily and he found himself in a lobby - a large empty space with nothing but two elevators and a doorway leading to some stairs. The windows blocked the worst of the smog out and the air in here was clearer - but the gloom was still overpowering. No natural light made it way in here, and there were no signs of life.

He pressed the call button for the elevator and waited as it made its way down to him, it took a long time and he tutted impatiently - sighing deeply and raising his eyes heavenward, 'bloody hell.' With a loud ding, the bell rang and the door slid open - he stepped inside and looked at the buttons. The lowest floor he could access was floor 45. 'What do all the poor sods living on floor 44 do?' he muttered, pushing the button. The door slid closed and a voice said, 'going up.'

'The buggers speak English. That's convenient.'

It took nearly a minute to reach the 45th floor and when he stepped out, his jaw dropped open. It was busy up here - it was the lobby area of an office building and people - human looking people - scurried past down the corridors. The technology looked different to anything Spike had ever seen - it was all shiny and chrome and looked … more futuristic than what they had back home.

But the biggest clue that he wasn't in Kansas anymore was what was going on outside the windows. He stood in front of a large pane of glass and stared out. The sun was shining and the sky was blue this high up, but he could still peer down and see the smog he had escaped from. The buildings surrounding the one he was in all stretched skyward, going up hundreds of storeys - as if the people, having destroyed the ground with all the thick, black fog had just abandoned it and built upwards, living in the sky instead. And in the space between the buildings, acting as if they were on a normal road - hundreds of cars and trucks flew through the air, stopping at traffic lights and weaving around each other. He stared upward, watching across the road as the flying vehicles pulled up outside buildings, landed on docking stations, and people climbed out - entering the buildings at the 50th, 60th - even the 100th floor.

'Right then,' he said quietly to himself, 'how exactly the bloody hell am I meant to find Greenway in all this?'


The team were back at work in Angel's office - though once again he was brooding more than he was helping. Wesley thought he might have made a breakthrough with his books - something that would help them track Greenway. 'The ritual may prove to be the key,' he was telling the others, 'the lay out of the corpses, the pattern of the candles - I've been studying the Albravian Codex, which is one of the worlds seminal texts on dark rituals relating to interdimensional travel, and it seems that it is possible to narrow down his destination based on the rites he performed.' He took out a sheath of paper and handed it across to Gunn. 'I looked into Wolfram and Hart records and they have a number of contacts who are experts on the codex. They've been used a number of times over the years - I imagine anyone who's worked for the company any length of time would be familiar with them.'

Gunn scanned the list, 'I'll have 'em brought in, see if we can't get them to talk.'

'They may be quite dangerous - powerful.'

'I'll be my most persuasive.'

'OK, then what?' Lorne was balanced on the edge of Angel's desk, he looked between the two others. 'Say one of these expert types gives up the goodies - are we going to have our own sacred slaughter to get through the dimensional realms? How do we follow Greenway?'

'I guess maybe we could try and build some kind of device that opens portals,' Fred said, 'I might have to extrapolate a whole new discipline of quantum mechanics on the fly, break all the laws of nature and math …'

'Hopefully that won't be necessary,' Wesley told her, 'it only took a book to get to Pylea, the orb to get to the insect's dimension, the key and the coin to access The Power's holding dimension - even Quortoth only takes the right words, and that dimension is supposed to be sealed from this one. A ritual slaughter is a crude method of stepping between dimensions, a blunt instrument used by someone with no magical power of their own. Those who know what they're doing can use more refined methods. The mystics should be able to find us a way in once we know where we're going. Opening a portal is the easy part - it's the precision required to get to the right place which takes time. If the mystics can help us out...'

'We can have Greenway back by bedtime,' Gunn finished up. 'Right - guess I'll start knocking on these mystic guys doors…' he started to head out but was blocked in the doorway as Harmony appeared. 'Uh - boss?' she asked.

'Not now, Harmony,' Angel said - he was staring out of the window - he was only vaguely aware that the team seemed to be well on their way to solving their problem.

'Um - OK - but do I get the rest of the day off too?'

He swivelled his chair to stare at her, 'what do you mean?'

'Everyone's leaving - the whole building is emptying out.'

The team glanced at each other, surprised. 'Gunn, Wes - go find out what's happening,' Angel said, heavily. The two men nodded and headed out.

...

Out in the lobby, they found that Harmony was not exaggerating. The whole place was swarming with lawyers and paralegals and scientists and assistants all pushing their way to the elevators and the stairs. 'I'll go check with security,' Gunn said and headed off.

Wesley took a step out into the sea of busying people. He felt a hand grab hold of his elbow and turned to look. Lilah was there looking relieved. 'Thank God - I've been looking for you,' she said, 'we need to get out.'

'Lilah - what's going on?'

She dragged him along through the crowd. 'We need to get out of the building - right now. It's a code 7.'

He came to a stop, grabbed her and swung her round so she was facing him. He stared into her face. 'What's a code 7?'


Buffy walked in between the pairs of sparring women. So far she had avoided the part of the room with Cordelia in, but nevertheless she had been watching her covertly. She was good - better than good. She was fast on her feet and her technique was well above par - and she was inventive, never doing the expected thing - always keeping her partner on her toes. Or off them, to be more accurate. Time and again, Cordy managed to flatten her opponent. And then every time she would help her back up and check she was OK before they started again.

She watched as Cordy flipped the other slayer - grabbing her wrist and hurling her over her head. The girl cried out as she hit the floor - and a moment later Cordy was sat down next to her 'Oh my gosh - I'm sorry, did I hurt you?'

'My wrist,' the girl held it up, wincing slightly.

'Here let me see.'

Buffy watched as Cordelia gingerly took hold of the girl's wrist and began to test for sprains or broken bones, asking questions about where it hurt in a gentle voice. Her eyes were soft, as she worked - and her fingers were, too - Buffy could tell just by looking. And she remembered the softness in Cordy's face every time she had looked at her half demon boyfriend, and what she had said about tending everyone's injuries back in L.A.

This was a whole new side to Cordelia - a much more caring and tender one than had ever been glimpsed back in Sunnydale. It was as if Cordelia now actually thought about people who weren't herself, worried about them and took care of them. That was … that was something Buffy would never have thought possible. And the way she handled the other girl's wrist, seemed to know what to do - what to check for - suggested she had training and expertise in first aid, she had developed an entire skill set focused on helping others. That was the most unCordeliaish thing Buffy could think of.

And it wasn't just the first aid where she had expertise. All slayers were naturally good fighters, with preternatural reflexes, it came with the job description - but Cordelia was head and shoulders above the other girls in the room, technique wise. She must be learning that from somewhere - and she didn't have a watcher - so Buffy realised that she must be training with Angel, it was him that was honing Cordelia into a warrior. But she must have asked for that help, must have wanted to excel at being the slayer - had been driven to train. Cordy cared about things other than shoes and makeup and boys and her own advancement now. She had run Angel's business for him, supported him when he was bad and moody and carved out a useful position for herself in the world, even before the slayer powers changed her over night. She was grown up and responsible … and so far away from the mean girl, queen bee that Buffy had known.

She supposed she couldn't avoid her forever, she crossed over to where Cordy was still checking over the other slayer's injuries. 'Everything OK?' she asked.

Cordelia glanced up at her, 'oh - Shannon has sprained her wrist, it's not too bad, but she could do with putting some ice on it.'

Buffy nodded, 'OK - Shannon, take five - I'll partner Cordy whilst you rest up.' The other slayer nodded and went to sit out and Buffy took her place. Cordy got back to her feet, looking slightly nervous.

'You ready?' Buffy asked her - and Cordy nodded. They took up starting positions. Buffy swung her fist, but Cordy ducked it easily - and they began to circle each other warily, looking for an opening. Cordelia kicked out - snapping her leg at Buffy's chest, but Buffy caught hold of her foot, stopping the blow from landing and compromising Cordelia's balance. Immediately, Cordelia bent over backwards, her hands touching the floor- and she used the bounce of the mat to handspring her way to freedom, backflipping away from Buffy and kicking her under her chin as her legs came over. Buffy staggered a few steps backwards before she regained her footing - and then span round and delivered a roundhouse kick just as Cordelia landed back on her feet.

Cordy was knocked to the floor under the impact, but she flipped herself back up threw another punch. 'That's good,' Buffy said to her. She returned the hit in kind, 'but try not to drop your shoulder - it telegraphs what you're about to do.'

'Right,' she hit again, but Buffy ducked it. 'Still telegraphing,' she told the newer slayer. 'You gotta keep your next line of attack secret from your opponent. If he knows what you're gonna do, he can block it.' They danced around each other a bit more, feinting and dodging. 'Come at me,' Buffy said. Cordy rushed her, but Buffy flipped her easily - and she slammed down on the mat on her back, hard. 'Ow!'

'I always like to use my opponent's strength against them,' Buffy said, 'turn it into a weakness,' she held back and let Cordy get back to her feet, 'what's your signature move?'

'Well, usually I just kick 'em in the goolies. It's why I don't like fighting girls.'

'Keeping things simple is an often underrated technique,' Buffy conceded, still circling. 'What do you think the most important thing is to remember when you're fighting?'

Cordelia ducked another punch. 'I've always been a great believer in keeping your balance,' she said, raising her fists and keeping her weight on the balls of her feet.

'Why's that?'

'Because if you lose your balance…' she suddenly rushed Buffy. Buffy moved to block the attack, but it was a feint and Cordy changed direction at the last moment. Buffy stumbled and Cordelia scythed her leg out, taking Buffy's ankles out from under her. She collapsed to the ground.

'... you lose,' Cordelia finished up, looking down at where Buffy was lying on her back, blinking and gasping in surprise. She held her hand out, and helped the other slayer back up.


'It's a fail safe,' Lilah explained, Wesley had dragged her back into Angel's office and was now making her explain what was going on to the whole team. 'The Senior Partners built a fail safe deep beneath Wolfram and Hart.'

'Why?' Angel asked her. She shrugged, 'they were never sure they'd be able to control you, keep you working strictly on their side - so they devised a way to … go nuclear if you pissed them off.'

'And you're saying that this fail safe is now activated?'

'If there's a code 7 then that's what it means, slugger. This whole place is about to blow - hence my telling Wesley we need to get out of here. Now.' She looked around at the team, who sat there unmoving. 'I'm sensing you maybe don't understand the meaning of now.'

Angel ignored her, 'Lorne,' he turned instead to the anagogic demon. 'Go down to company daycare, check they've evacuated. If they have - find them, stay with Connor. If they're not out yet - get him the hell out of here.'

'Consider me gone,' he hurried out of the room. Angel turned back to Lilah, 'but we're not going anywhere - tell us more about this fail safe.'

'Well - I don't know what it is exactly. The Senior Partners were not exactly giving guided tours of their secret weapon. I just know it's huge and alive - and specifically designed to destroy you.'

'And are The Senior Partners behind this? Did they activate it - or is there some other player at work?'

'Don't know - and frankly, right now - don't care. You really don't seem to be understanding the 'nuclear' part of why we have to get out of here.'

'There must be a way to stop it,' Angel said to her.

'The only way to shut it down is in the chamber itself.'

Angel looked around at his team, 'OK - you heard her. You all need to get out - I'll go down there and…'

'What?' Fred interrupted him, 'Angel you don't know what's down there - what you might have to face, you can't go alone.'

'This thing is meant for me - I can't risk anyone I care about.'

'We're in danger all the time!' she protested, 'we know the score. If you try to face this thing alone you'll fail. You need us.'

Angel looked like he was about to argue, opening his mouth as if to speak, but Wesley spoke up. 'She's not wrong - time is of the essence and this thing will be guarded. You'll need all of our help to get this done. Otherwise you will be destroyed.'

Angel shut his mouth again and nodded, 'OK,' he said, 'but if I tell you to run - you all run. And if I tell you to leave me behind - you leave me behind. No questions asked. Agreed?'

'Agreed.'

'Good.' He looked across at Lilah, 'Lilah, get outta here.'


'...So it turned out the monks had built all my memories - and modified everyone else's to include me, I'm not actually real. Or - I'm not actually a real person,' Dawn shrugged as she sucked on her straw, drinking her banana milkshake, 'my whole family - my whole life up until I was 14 is completely fake.'

'Huh,' Doyle frowned, he stirred his own shake with his straw, 'so ...you were never really in Sunnydale back when Cordy was? Today was actually the first time you met for real? … that is weird. I remember her talkin' about the slayer's kid sister. She mentioned you in some o' her stories back when we first met. But … she didn't really know you…' A sudden look of realisation crossed his face, 'she never really talked about y', did she? The monks modified my memory too - they literally changed the whole world.'

'It's best if you try not to think about it too much - it makes your head go all floopy.'

'I'll say.'

Dawn shrugged again, 'Cordelia's just the tip of the iceberg - you know I've been thinking about it and … I've never actually met my own dad.'

'I never met my dad,' Doyle said.

'Yeah but - I remember mine. And I guess he remembers me.' She smiled - though it was a sad, reflective smile. 'I remember back when he left us, I cried for a whole week. Except … I didn't. I wasn't really there.'

'Wow … this is … wow. How did you get your head round all this?'

'It took a while - I was pretty crazed at first. I cut myself, I skipped school - I yelled just awful things at my mom,' she looked sad again for a moment - as if regretting every moment she had ever spent mad at Joyce.

'I did a lot o' yellin' when I found out I was half demon,' Doyle said, nodding his head as he recognised the rage Dawn must have felt when she found out she was the key. 'I was so angry - depressed. I drank pretty much constantly. Stopped goin' to work - single-handedly destroyed my marriage … from the sound of it you coped a lot better than I did when the motherload o' crazy hit.'

'I went through a whole Klepto phase after my mom died.'

'Oh … well … I never had a mania or nothin' - but I did steal a few cars, robbed a couple o' banks.'

Dawn snorted shake through her nose and began to choke. She wiped her face with her napkin and when she looked up she was laughing. 'That's so hardcore,' she said, sounding impressed.

'Thanks,' Doyle looked pleased at her praise. 'I did a bit o' jail time too,' he boasted, '… just a weekend though. Got off on a technicality.'

'OK - if Buffy knew this she would not have let me spend the day with you. I think you would definitely come under the category of "bad influence". She can be pretty uptight.'

'Ah - what she doesn't know can't hurt her.'

'That's what I try and tell her - she still insists on knowing where I am every second of the day, though.' She stabbed her straw into her drink, looking briefly annoyed at how overprotective her sister was.

'It's just because she cares,' Doyle said reasonably, 'you'd miss it if she didn't. It's good to know you're loved - even if it gets in the way of what you wanna do. I spent a big chunk o' time out on my own - nobody to care about, no one who cared about me … it's not a good way to live.'

'Is that when you went through your not so petty criminal phase?'

'Yep.'

'Well it's not like I'm gonna rob a bank just 'cause Buffy takes her eyes off me for two seconds. She still acts like I'm just a kid. I'm 17, I can take care of myself. But the way Buffy acts - you'd think I was gonna get attacked by rampaging monster fiends every time I set foot out of the ….'

Her last word was drowned out by the sound of the glass in the windows smashing and shattering to the floor. Several of the customers screamed out in alarm - and then three huge, spiked, green demons crashed their way into the diner and pointed machetes at the staff behind the counter and the people sitting in the booths.

Doyle sighed and fixed Dawn with a stern eye, 'you know this is your fault for saying that, right?'