Part 9:

The creature that was once Amy Madison was not a happy camper. Last night had not gone down as she had imagined it. Xander was still alive and she had been run over by a car. Being hit by two tons of speeding metal was not something even a vampire could just shrug off and she had needed the rest of the night to get back into shape, draining no less than three mortals in the process.

She felt much better now, though. Better and eager to finish the job.

No need to get upset about last night, she reminded herself. Xander could just as well die tonight, no problem. She just had to find him. If he was smart enough to stay inside a private home there were several spells she could use. If he was stupid enough to just walk around outside like last night ... well, she would probably be doing the world a favor by killing him.

The fact that she had given Willow most of her magical supplies shortly before her death was quite a bother, but her house's attic had provided her with some more leftovers from her mother's witch days. Among them a scrying orb. All she needed for now.

She knew, of course, that last night's failed attempt might make things much more complicated. Xander was friends with Buffy, the Slayer. There was Angel, that vampire boyfriend of hers who was somehow on the side of good. She had heard some stories about Angel, or Angelus, since joining the undead community of Sunnydale, and liked none of them. The guy was either a manipulative sadist or a bleeding-heart do-gooder, one could never quite tell which. Either way he might become a problem.

Then there was that dark-haired girl that had recently joined Buffy's little band of friends. Amy knew almost nothing about her, but she had seen her that night when every monster in Sunnydale had lost its human mask. She had no idea what it meant that her eyes had glowed a bright silver, but whatever she was, harmless certainly was not it.

They would not be able to stop her, though. Amy was not just a vampire, which made her more powerful than any mere human ever could be. No, she was also a witch, well on her way toward being every bit as strong in the mystic arts as her mother ever was. God alone knew how powerful she might become with a few decades or centuries of practice.

She had pretty much resolved her future course. She would not be one of those idiot fledglings that got themselves dusted because they allowed the hunger to overcome them, squandering immortality within a few nights of bloody slaughter. No, she would survive and become powerful enough to be a true player, someone whose name would find its way into the history books beside Angelus and Master Nest. Sure, it would need time, but she had more than enough of that now.

There was just that one thing she needed to do to tie off her mortal existence and then she could be off. Xander. Thanks to him she had nearly been burned at the stake. Thanks to him she had nearly turned away from magic for good. Thanks to him she had died a violent death that, while bringing her into her glorious new existence, had still been quite painful.

He just had to die before she left. It was a matter of principle.

The scrying orb began to glow as her magical power was channeled through it and a smile spread on her lips as she spotted her prey in its crystal depths.

#

"I think we have everything we need, Giles," Willow said, going over the list of ingredients the Watcher had dictated to her over the phone. "If you bring along the essence of toad we can conjure the Living Flame."

Giles nodded, finished double-checking the details of the ritual. "Very well. I will be over soon." Casting a glance at Gwendolyne Post, who was packing up the books and essence of toad, he added softly, "and make sure that certain people are not there when we arrive."

"Buffy and Angel will be pissed having to hide in their own home, but I'll tell them. See you in a few minutes, Giles."

Willow had barely hung up the phone when the two people in question entered the apartment. The red-haired hacker raised an eyebrow in question when she saw the big battle axe that Buffy carried with her like a trophy.

"Scratch one Lagos," the Slayer announced happily.

"Figures!" Faith came into the apartment after them, having just finished her own patrol. "Here I was, just itching for something to pummel in that bitch Post's stead, and you guys bag the big demon warrior. This just isn't my day."

"He wasn't so big," Buffy told her sister Slayer, sounding rather disappointed. "We barely worked up a sweat. I think Post got her undies in a knot over nothing."

Angel looked at the chest in the corner, where they had hidden the glove.

"We should prepare everything for the ritual. Has Giles called?"

"He will be over in a few minutes," Willow announced, having already cleared a space in the living room where they would perform the spell. "Not alone, though."

"Great," Buffy huffed. "Now that English bitch is chasing us from our own home."

"You can hide in the bathroom," Faith offered with a grin. "Keep control of yourselves, though. Bitch might get suspicious when she hears thumbing and repeated moaning of 'Oh, Angel!' from in there."

Buffy had long ago gotten over the urge to blush. Not so Willow, who turned a crimson red.

"I'll have you know we are perfectly capable of keeping our hormones under control," Buffy informed her sister Slayer.

"Yeah, I got a few examples of that not too long ago. If I remember right Cordelia had to call you to order."

Buffy groaned. Odds were that Faith would never let them live down the happenings of the cursed candy night.

#

Hanging up the phone Giles turned toward Post. They had spent most of the day researching every detail of the Living Flame and his anxiety had died down somewhat. Post was a Watcher through and through, which, Giles had to admit, also meant a healthy dose of arrogance. Maybe his years here in America, exposed to Buffy and her friends, had indeed changed him from the ideal of Watcherhood he had once embraced so thoroughly.

Post was obnoxious, arrogant, all-knowing, and, as Buffy would put it, an all-around pain in the butt, but Giles was unable to share his charge's suspicions that the woman might want something more out of this visit than what she had told them. To be on the safe side he had placed a call to the Watchers Council earlier and they had confirmed that Post was who she said she was and that her visit was fully sanctioned.

So, in the spirit of cooperation, he would take her along to see the destruction of the glove. If she asked whom the apartment belonged to they had already prepared a cover story, saying it belonged to Willow and Oz. The two students were more than prepared to play happy homemaker in Buffy and Angel's den.

The two Watchers quickly made their way toward Giles' car, Post slipping into the passenger seat.

"I must say, Mr. Giles," she said as he started the engine, "while I applaud your sense of keeping security tight, I do not see the need of maintaining this secrecy with me."

He had refused to tell her where the glove was stowed away all day, something that seemed to irk her very much.

He was running out of excuses, though.

"Ms. Post, the library, while providing us with a splendid cover and facilities, is still inside a public building. There is no way to know who might be listening in on us there."

Pointedly looking around Post said, "we are no longer in the building, though, are we? Are you afraid the demons have bugged your car?"

Giles sighed, realizing that his behavior was probably bordering on the suspicious by now, at least seen from Post's somewhat uninformed point of view.

"Very well," he finally surrendered. "The glove is in the apartment of two of ... Faith's friends." He had been about to say 'Buffy's friends'. "They are waiting for us there with the remaining ingredients of the Living Flame ritual."

Post actually gave him a smile. They drove on in silence until they reached their destination, Giles parking the car about a block away from the apartment.

"We're almost there," he told Post as he got the bag from the back. "Just down the street."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Giles."

It was the last thing he heard before something very hard connected with the back of his head and then everything slipped away into darkness.

TO BE CONTINUED