Chapter Four
Three weeks. Willow spent three weeks researching Dé'sa, the shaman whose services the Alliance had enlisted, and had become quite the expert on the 600 year old half-breed – that is to say, half demon and half human. Born in Greece in the late 15th century Dé'sa had become quite the menace in Athens and in result was banned from Greece, by the Watcher's Council, for the whole of eternity. Fleeing Europe altogether the young Dé'sa settled in Egypt where he seemingly "fell off the radar" for nearly a century before a marketplace quarrel turned bloody and entire village was wiped out in Dé'sa's wrath.
Taken into the Council's custody Dé'sa was imprisoned but managed an escape after an unauthorized guard, of Egyptian descent, attempted to "deal with" Dé'sa on his own – the shaman had easily manipulated the guards mind and, once free of his cell, slit the young man's throat. Since his escape Dé'sa had been a Council fugitive and, as of yet, unable to be located.
All this was easy enough to learn simply by opening a book but Willow's job was to theorize why Dé'sa had become so suddenly active and why the Alliance had gone out of its way to track him down. Willow had a general idea as to why such a powerful shaman would have need to "hone his skills" and an even stronger idea as to why the Alliance might want someone with abilities such as his own. But Dé'sa was a risk, seeing as he was of keen interest to the Council and the Alliance would know that. Again, Willow asked herself, why?
Who could his target be? Deep in her mind, however, a small voice whispered to Willow the very answer she didn't want to hear and, in truth, she didn't hear it for she had locked that small voice away behind a wall of denial.
*Ring*
Shoving her head under her pillow Willow attempted to drown out the ringing phone.
*Ring*
Groaning, she threw her pillow at the wall and looked at her clock. 2:00 am. Someone was going to die. "This had better be good," she growled into the receiver.
"Sorry to disturb you, agent Rosenberg."
Sitting up Willow's brow crinkled in confusion. "Watcher Bruckheim? What are you doing calling my home number?"
"You cell, apparently, is turned off."
Picking up the small, silver phone from her nightstand Willow say the battery light blinking red. "Oops. Sorry, sir."
"That's quite alright."
Pulling the bed sheets around her body, attempting to keep out the cold winter air, Willow asked, "What can I do for you a two o'clock in the morning, sir?"
"Right, I do apologize for the ungodly hour but I'm afraid the circumstances do call for it."
Sighing, Willow understood what the 'circumstances' were. "Where are we off to?"
"There's a jet waiting for you in the hanger," Bruckheim explained. "Team Songbird is to be on board and in air by 0400 hours. The details of your assignment will be faxed to you once you're in-flight."
"Yes, but where are we going?" Willow repeated.
There was a paused on the other line before the head of CI answered, "Sunnydale."
"Oh."
"I understand your hesitation – "
"No, sir," Willow assured her ranking agent. "It's been a long time since then. I've moved past it as I'm sure they have. Team Songbird will be in flight at 0400, sir."
"Good to hear. Happy hunting, Pioneer."
Willow smiled. "Aye, sir." Placing the phone back in its cradle Willow closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath.
"Who the bloody hell was that?" Spike grumbled beside Willow.
"Bruckheim. We have orders," Willow answered. "Get Dru. We're moving out, pronto."
Rolling over, Buffy hit the Snooze button on her alarm clock and pushed herself out of bed, careful not to wake the sleeping form beside her. Yawning, she stretched her arms over her head and shuffled into the bathroom. Twisting the bath faucet on Buffy held her hand beneath the water until it was warm then pulled the shower knob and stepped in, sliding the glass door shut behind her. It was just past 7:00 am and Giles expecting her at the Magic Box by 8:30 to do that weeks inventory.
Shutting off the water Buffy wrapped a towel around her body and tiptoed back into the bedroom to get dressed. Pulling a sweater over her head she headed back into the bathroom to dry her hair but just as she turned on the blow-dryer a loud crash came from the bedroom. Startled she set the dryer down and turned to see what had happened but was sideswiped by a fist. Stumbling a few feet Buffy looked up, ready to face her assailant.
"Xander?"
Lifting the baseball he held between his hands Buffy's lover swung at her head. Ducking, quickly, from the blow Buffy managed to slip out of the bathroom, trying to parry each of Xander's swings. Looking at him Buffy knew he was under some kind of spell – his movements looked almost programmed and his eyes starred straight out before him.
Finally, though, she managed to strike back and landed a solid punch to Xander's jaw. He fell hard. Shaking his head, as though waking from a strange dream, Xander lifted confused eyes to his lover.
"Buffy?"
Several blocks away Oz was frantically dodging Cordelia's fist, which was gripping a very large butchers knife and stabbing at his chest. Like Xander, the ex-cheerleader's movements were stiff and her eyes starred always forward. Able, after Cordelia over-swung and stumbled forward, to shove his lover away from him Oz watched Cordelia slam into the wall behind her, her head thumping against the hard plaster.
"Oz?"
Three hours later Giles sat behind the checkout counter of the Magic Box trying to quiet the four who stood before him shouting for answers. He was well aware of what had occurred – hearing it only a hundred times – and wanted nothing more then to give answers to the four individuals he considered his own children.
If only they'd shut up!
"Please," Giles shouted and was met by immediate obedience. "Thank you. Now, I know you're all concerned, as am I, but nothing will be solved if you continue to shout at me for answers I do not have."
"Sorry, Giles," the four muttered.
"We're obviously dealing with a demon," Giles observed and the others nodded their agreement. "Right, now – " Groaning, the Watcher turned to answer his phone and returned a short time later. "Well," he said stiffly. "I just had a lovely conversation with Head Watcher Travers and apparently they're sending over a team to deal with this situation."
"When?" Cordelia asked.
Giles glanced at his watch before answering, "They should be here any moment."
"What!" All four exclaimed and shot to their feet.
"That means the Council's known about for at least a day," Buffy observed. "We didn't even know about it until a couple of hours ago."
"Wait," Xander put it. "How could the Council have known about this before us?"
Giles shrugged. "The Council has its ways. Apparently they're sending the best they have."
"Right," Buffy scoffed. "A group of tweed wearing, stuffy, middle-aged, British men with an I'm-better-than-you attitude looking to get their joneses by bossing around the Slayer and her Scooby Gang."
The response to Buffy's outburst, however, came from the last person any of the Sunnydale gang had expected, "Close, Buffy, but no dice."
