"Well, it certainly wasn't what I was expecting, but it will have to do. Though I usually avoid former vampire nests, this one is remarkably well kept. Can't help the smell, but then I've lived in worse. The décor shows an eye for the finer things - do you know the previous owner? Probably killed the last living owner, that's how these things are usually done, but I think I see some distinctly vampiric touches. Those heavy curtains are a dead giveaway, pardon the pun. Now you just wait here, I'll be taking those down in a jiffy. Place like this always looks better in the sunshine."

Magneto stared at the woman who was bustling about the foyer of the mansion. A siren? This frumpy, housewife-like busybody?

"Are you sure she has to stay here?" he whispered to Mystique.

"She insisted that she return to Sunnydale with us; she fears retribution for aiding these children. I felt it might be wise if we could - speak - with her."

"An intelligent plan, Mystique, but does she have to stay here?"

Melly rolled her eyes at the mutants' conversation. Did they think she didn't recognize the invitation for what it was? Really. She had two millennia and some of experience. And most of it had been spent causing shipwrecks, causing small wars, and causing generic trouble for foolish, selfish mortals. It wasn't until the past few centuries that she had considered retirement; and she had only been officially off the job for about ninety years. That wasn't nearly long enough for a being such as herself to forget the finer points of subterfuge. She was a siren, by Poseidon's trident, and as such she was born to deceit.

But the mortals were cute in their attempts to plot around her and it would be interesting to see what high-jinks they got up to. Melly was all for the Slayer beating the Sl'kanith, but that didn't mean she wouldn't enjoy the chaos preceding its destruction.

"Now, Magenta, or whatever your name is, would you be a love and help me with these drapes? They really ought to be taken down and cleaned. I wonder if Anyanka knows the name of a good drycleaner's. Fabric like this deserves professional treatment, don't you agree?"

***

"Let's see - do we have the focusing crystal?" Willow began to read off the list of ingredients of the dampening spell. They had a two days left to get all the ingredients and she wanted to be sure they weren't scrambling on the last day.

"Check."

"Rose hips, monkshood, sage?"

"Triple check. I even started the basic preparation - smell."

"Mmmm. Is it supposed to smell like that? Usually my herbally spell attempts end up kind of stinky."

"Honey, that's because you only use the smelly herbs. Most charms should have a few nice ones slipped in for scent."

"Doesn't that screw it up?"

"Not usually. It can even help balance out the powers you're summoning."

"Cool. Next time I try for a protection against evil talisman, you'll show me?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Back to the list. Cauldron made of copper, silver, and gold?"

"Right here. Mr. Boggardy gave us a special price on it, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Siren hair?"

"Being sewn into a bag as we speak."

"And a very good job you're doing. With the neat little stitches and the cool looking thread - where did you get that?"

"M-melly gave it to me. She said it came from her sister Lori."

"Very nice. Blood of the victim?"

Tara looked up at Willow from her needlework. Their eyes met, knowing what didn't need to be said.

They didn't have the blood of a victim yet. But that part of the puzzle would be found all too soon.

***

Yet another night patrolling in wonderful Sunnydale. Buffy flicked her eyes over at her new partner for the night, Mystique.

The mutant was gliding along beside her, her dark blue skin blending in perfectly with the night. Every time Buffy looked at her, she expected her demon sensors to start screaming "Evil demon! Evil demon!" and when they didn't go off, she felt majorly creeped out.

Which was sort of funny. She was creeped out because her senses for the creepiness were reading a no-go? Wasn't that a paradox or an oxymoron or something?

"What are we doing in a graveyard?"

And the not-quite-demon speaks.

"I want to go talk to Spike, get some information. Willy's not talking and we need something solid."

"Spike?" Magneto had brought her up to date about the situation in Sunnydale, after he and Willow had a long discussion, but Mystique was still interested in what Buffy would say. How would she defend the morally ambiguous decision of letting a vampire live?

"A vampire. Can't go around biting people right now so he gets his kicks fighting demons. Sometimes helps us for money."

"Why can't he bite?"

"He got a chip shoved in his head. Spike tries to hurt someone, he goes all Aghhh! and can't perform."

"Why don't you kill him?"

Buffy sighed in annoyance. What was this, a session of Q&A? "Because he can't fight back."

Fascinating. Magneto had indicated the Slayer possessed that sort of annoying moral code, but it was illuminating to see how she applied it. Mystique filed away that fact for future use. She expected tensions between the two organizations to explode any day now. Actually, tensions between one organization and one group of children led by a middle-aged man who needed a job. She was reminded of that idealist always causing the Brotherhood problems.

At least idealists were predictable.

***

"Spike!"

Mystique followed the Slayer into the crypt. It was less unpleasant than she had expected, but no where near the sort of refinements she favored - such as flooring and heating.

"Slayer."

Mystique was interested to see what this Spike would be like. She was presented by a cocky man whose every fiber shouted Attitude. She made a mental note. A troublemaker like that could always be a potential ally.

"If I'd known you were coming, luv, I'd have baked a cake."

Buffy rolled her eyes and cut to the chase. "The Sl'kanith and the group that summoned it. If you've gotten any information on either, Giles says we'll pay you."

"Must be pissing you off that your Watcher won't let you go a round of Kick the Spike. You need me to be all nice and helpful if you want to have a shot of catching the new nasty in town."

"I wouldn't say that," Buffy said back at him. "A round or two might be just the thing to get you to give me what I want."

"Really, luv. Didn't know you were interested - OW!"

"Cut it out, Spike. You know something, you tell me."

"So that's it, then? Your demon friend got anything to add?"

Mystique raised an eyebrow. A pity that the floorshow was trying to get her involved.

"Not demon, mutant. And I really don't care how Summers gets information from you. Not my problem."

"Nice." Spike turned back to Buffy. "And Slayer, there's nothing I can tell you. All I've heard is that the Sl'kanith's gonna send out a big surge tonight. Wants the mortals to join in the fun and games. That's all I got."

***
Willow walked through the streets of Sunnydale, her cousin by her side. Buffy had convinced her to take Magneto for her partner - apparently Buffy now had a grudge involving demon carcasses, shirt slaying demon spit, and Magneto. Willow didn't mind. That meant Buffy was stuck with Mystique.

Magneto seemed remarkably eager to patrol tonight. It probably had something to do with the hospitality he was reluctantly offering Melly. When Willow had gone to meet Erik, she found Melly and Anya chatting in their uniquely piercing voices right in the mansion's common room.

And apparently Melly's favorite topics of conversation matched perfectly with Anya's. She couldn't blame him from wanting to flee. All she had heard involved the two interrogating Pyro and Avalanche about their views on women and sex. Mostly sex. Willow was very grateful Melly wasn't staying with her.

"Do you often go patrolling?"

"Not as often as Buffy has to, but I usually get to do the whole creature of the night deal once or twice a week."

"Where do you go?"

"For patrol? Mostly the Bronze, graveyards, and parks. Ooh, and the warehouse district."

"This town has enough industry to support a warehouse district?" Magneto had to marvel at that. According to the data he gathered on this place, it was a small, mostly suburban type place. He marked the warehouse district as another oddity worthy of note - beside the zoo, museum, train and bus stations, and assorted mansions.

Willow shrugged. There were so many things that made absolutely no sense in Sunnydale. Like how they were walking by the police station and none of the other people on the street noticed the screaming come from there -

Goddess, no.

Willow was galvanized into action, sprinting over to the building. Before she was able to open the door, though, she hit a barrier.

"Erik, let me in!"

Magneto ignored her, listening carefully to the sounds within. Screams, yes, but also gun shots. He reached out with his mind, trying to grab all the metal he sensed in there. It was difficult, since he could not see his targets.

As soon as he felt it was under control, he released Willow. She burst into the station, a spell at her lips to fight whatever monster that presented itself.

The scene that greeted her was horrific.

Three bodies were splayed about, one draped over a desk, the others slumped over the floor. There was another person, a man, crouched behind a bench he had turned upside down, hand to his side trying to keep the blood in. Beside him lay a young woman, alive but only just, her breathing slow and tortured.

The architect for this scene was in a corner, a policewoman with sweat soaked hair and maddened eyes, shouting about how the demons were everywhere and that the monsters had to be destroyed.

The scene was made even more surreal by the metal floating about. The shooter's gun hovered in her hand, obviously not under her control. Guns from the other officers hung motionless over their bodies, as if in silent salute to the dead. Metal pens, coins, paperweight knick knacks, etc. all were held by that same eerie levitation.

Willow felt numb inside

Magneto stepped in behind Willow, coolly taking in the image of the massacre. Now that he knew exactly what he was sensing, he summoned all the weapons to him, then crushed them with a thought. No sense in keeping such nonsense around.

With her gun now fully taken from her, the madwoman leaped forward, hands like claws, aiming at Willow. The attack shook Willow from her stupor, forcing her to defend herself.

A moment's concentration and the madwoman slumped into unconsciousness. Shaking herself from the unreal feeling of the situation, Willow proceeded to check on the two survivors. Magneto was already over there, helping the wounded man staunch the bleeding.

She bent over the young woman, assessing the injuries. Courtesy of a Sunnydale education, she knew that unless an ambulance showed up, maybe ten minutes ago, there was nothing she could do to stop the inevitable.

Willow reached down and held the girl's hand. At the contact, the girl's eyes fluttered open for a second and met hers. The pain in them ripped something inside Willow into itty bitty pieces.

She gave the dying girl's hand a gentle squeeze. Who was she? Who were her loved ones? Why was she here? Why did the mad policewoman shoot her? Why did this girl have to die?

The lights were almost out in the young woman's eyes.

Willow whispered softly under her breath, not so much a spell as a prayer.

"May these moments be filled with peace. May your spirit be at rest. May justice be granted unto you." In a firm tone, she whispered, "This I swear."

And then the unnamed girl died.

Out of the corner of her eye, Willow saw Erik taking care of what was now the lone survivor. It barely registered.

Hands shaking, she pulled a vial from her pocket. She dipped it into the pool of blood growing next to the dead girl.

"Blood of the innocent, to thee I call."

Check.

*** author's note: thanks to A Watcher for correcting a major typo - the scene originally had Buffy instead of Willow and I hadn't switched all the names.