I am soooo sorry that it has been so long for me to post this. Please except my sincerest apologies but I've been really really busy, and I willl hopefully have another part to post at the end of the week, by way of an apology. But this is way too much fun to ever abandon.

As always, thank you so much for the reviews I really do apperciate them (especially the last one I received) if I ever do spend ages and not post send me a note and I'll try to get on to it as soon as possible 'cos writing does tend to get put on a bit of a backburner with me.

Anyway, I'll let you get on with reading, and yes the broadsword is explained.

Weasy

Part Six

               //Remember the X-files? 'The truth is out there'? It seems to me the only people who ever stay stuff like that are people who have no idea what's going on. Nine years of X-files and they still haven't come to any conclusions…//

               The basement was more of a below ground room than anything else, decorated in pale off-whites and yellow's with thick fabrics fighting a loosing battle against the heat loss. The trickle of light that crept in through ground-level windows was rebounded across the room by strategically placed mirrors. For a moment Buffy was reminded of Egyptian anti-chambers and found herself unconsciously looking for canopic jars, and the living dead. She was shocked to find said jars, sitting neatly in a row above the fireplace, peeking out from behind Anubis was a slip of card with 'I saw this and I thought of you!' scrawled across it. Slipping his hand into Buffy's, Angel followed her eyes to the jars. "Giles' idea of a joke."

               "Thought so, I have many times been on the receiving end of his humour." Angel smirked at her abuse of the English language and the slight trace of nervousness she still seemed to have around him. Leading her by the hand through the sandy suede sofas and towards a door on the far side of the room the comfortable silence was cut short when the door swung open and Giles appeared, excitement written in every giddy movement.

               "This is amazing, why didn't you tell me about this earlier!"

               "The decorators only found it a few days ago." Angel defended.

               "You have decorators? That's so wrong, you miss out on all the fun of painting." Angel looked at Buffy with a befuddled expression.

               "Wait until she has you cooking by music!" Giles laughed, Buffy scowled at him.

               "Don't you mean cooking *to* music."

               "No. Cooking by music… like painting by numbers. Each dish has a different CD and when each track starts you have to complete another step of the recipe…" Buffy's explanation tailed off as she stepped up into the second room, the room was much smaller than the first and gave an overwhelming impression of incompleteness, half the shattered and broken boards had been pulled up, and a pile of treated second-hand oak sat in the corner ready to be laid in it's place. The walls were in a similar state; a coat of badly applied plaster had been ripped off the walls. Buffy was immediately drawn to one section of plaster stepping gingerly towards it she gazed open mouthed at what had been revealed, a section of dark wooden panneling. Yet there was so much more to it than that! Every tiny section had been decorated, a band of leaves framed some illegible writing and below that some beautifully iconic figures caught in a snapshot of battle.

               Spinning around she fixed her gaze questioningly on Angel, who was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe his gaze following her every movement. "I thought this house was new." She finally managed.

               "It is, thirty years old at most."

               "And this?"

               "It's dated at least 100 years before that." Giles cut in, "this carving is Celtic in style, but this inscription is a hybrid between Latin and Irish Gaelic." He paused running his eyes over the characters again. "I've been working on the translation, but I haven't had much luck yet. Angel's father was Irish, if this is his there might be something in his books about it but some are missing and that's hampering my progress." Finally tearing his eyes away from the panel his eyes rested on Buffy "There's more." Guiding her back across the room to the pile of wood in the corner. What Buffy had first assumed to be a workman's tool chest was on closer inspection much to beautiful for such a task, it was in fact an ancient chest.

               "It was my dad's." Angel filled in, leaving his post at the door to join the other two kneeling in front of the chest, running his fingers lovingly over the dusty oak. "It was at the end of mom's bed… but when she died… there was so much happening no one really noticed it had gone. We found it here, under the floorboards."

               "Who put it there?" Buffy probed unable to tear her eyes away from the trail of writing that spanned the chest.

               "I don't know, Kat's dad, maybe. We can't prove anything." Distractedly Angel filpped the catch and heaved the chest open, at first it appeared like there was nothing inside, but a heap of black velvet at the bottom caught Buffy's eye. "With this inside we can't see why he hid it." Leaning inside Angel pulled out the lump of velvet, delicately unwrapping it nearly four feet of solid silver broadsword was revealed. It was so much more than a sword, anxious not to damage the blade with her fingers Buffy followed the detail with her eyes, the hilt itself was made of Copper snakes that wound there way from end to end there tails holding a diamond in place at the very hilt and their pointed heads providing protection for the hand at the other. The blade itself had the same writing from the wall and chest repeated again in one short inscription down the edge of the blade. And the edge was razor-sharp indeed, strength and power hummed through it, unimaginable danger wrapped up in a beautiful package. 

               "It must be worth…"

               "Millions." Giles agreed, "Why don't you try it out." Buffy's eyes widened in shook at the mere suggestion. Glancing at Angel he nodded hi shead in agreement and taking a deep breath Buffy rose to her feet before taking a shaky grip on the offered hilt. The sword was incredibly heavy even to one used to handling such a weapon, thinking back to her most basic trainging she rolled back on the bals of her feet, quickly finding her centre of gravity. Slowly she wielded the sword, giving a few experimental swipes before really setting loose, the blade whipped around her head in a flash of metal, her feet spinning and shifting, each muscle from toes through shoulders constantly adjusting to carry out each move. Winding down, and panting from the effort she brought the blade back to her side and loosened her grip a little.

               "You need to keep your back straight." Giles reminded her.

               "Uh-huh." Slipping the sword back into Angel's dumfounded grasp she rolled the muscles in her shoulders.

               "Where did you learn that?" Angel demanded.

               "I'm the Fencing Champion of California." She informed him shortly. Quickly warming down with a serious of stretches, trying to pull his attention from her writhing body Anegl digested what she had just said.

               "Fencing and broad-swords don't necessarily go hand and hand… and how come you didn't tell me this?"
               "Geez, need-to-know-everything much? I only met you yesterday." She scolded him.

               "I keep forgetting that. It seems like I've known you forever." Buffy smiled softly at his open admission having all ready forgiven his inquisitiveness. Rapidly switching topics she smiled at Giles who was busy cleaning his glasses.

                "When I came to Sunnydale Giles became my couch and he started trainging me with other types of sword fighting too."

               "'In order to understand one's passion you must understand it's roots.'" Angel quoted fondly.

               "That's what he always says." Meeting Angel's eyes she stepped casually closer, pulse quickening at his intense gaze, the words were mere formalities, she could barely remember what they were talking about.

               "I am here you know." Giles interrupted, his strong baratone snapping Buffy out of her self-imposed trance, blushing she glanced at Angel who showed no such embarressment. "Besides it leads to the development of a well rounded individual."

               "Perhaps." Angel laughed, "But I still can't sing!"

               Remembering his resolution the night before to make sure Buffy was at home in the Hyperion Angel gave her a tour of the house, something no one had yet done. When they reached the kitchen they were met by a wall of laughter. Kat and Gunn were sitting round the breakfast bar, with another pair. The girl had a stark similarity to Kat, both had the same dark hair and pale skin, but where Kat had the same chocolate brown eyes at Angel, this girl's were a dark green. Her eyes shuttered as soon as Buffy entered the room, quickly becoming cool and impassive with a hint of pain bubbling below their surface. Sensing the change in her companion, Kat glanced over at the door, risking a slight smile Buffy was rewarded with Kat's own smile in return.

               "Who's goldilocks?" The man demanded. He was 100% punk rock, and yet somehow cute with it, A long black leather duster spread around his stool, his face was a model's dream high prominent cheekbones and piercing blue eyes that led up to swept back bleach blonde hair.

               "Spike." Angel sighed at the man's presence. "Buffy, meet Faith and Spike. Faith is Kat's sister, and Spike…"

               "Is an actor-" Spike interrupted.

               "So he claims, I'm pretty sure he only comes here for the hot chocolate." Kat cut in. "Want some?"

               "Sure." Waiting to be asked to sit down, Angel pulled up a stool, seeing her hesitancy Angel pulled out the stool next to him, when she sat he took her hand in his. A moment later they were presented with steaming mugs of hot chocolate, heaped high with marshmallows, and so thick they came with a spoon.

               Faith grinned wickedly at Buffy. "So what brings you to the Hyperion?" She glanced at Angel with one eyebrow raised and Buffy choked on a marshmallow.

               "No! It was uh, the Press." She grinned slyly in turn, "Mostly," taking an instant liking to Faith and her brutally honest ways. Feeling Spike's eyes on her, and Angel's grip tightening on her hand in some kind on post-feminist display of possessiveness, she turned her attentions on the actor. "Are you a regular guest here Spike?" She enquired politely.

               "Sometimes." He laughed at his own evasiveness, and leaned forward on his elbows to divuldge more. "I'm on Dawn the Vampire Slayer the Faith, your Angel used to have a part too."

               "Oh god…" Gunn laughed clutching his chest as he tried to talk around guffaws. "I remember… the accent…"

               "Oh yes…" Buffy turned on her newfound beau "Lucas! The cursed vamp, who died rather suddenly and pointlessly when he's just fallen in love with Dawn."

               "I got a part in a Steven Spielberg." Angel defended himself.

               "So? I worshipped that show, and when you left it just wasn't the same."

               "She's right you know." Faith cut in. "The ratings halved."

               "You're telling me I single handedly destroyed the dreams of a nation." Angel exclaimed anxiety written all over his face. Dropping his spoon in misery he looked around the table for support.

               Gunn shrugged "At least you've still got your looks." Buffy fought to keep a straight face at angel's exasperated expression, as ths hall clock shimed ominously that it was nine o'clock there was no hope left and the six of them exploded into laughter.

//but why do we even need conclusions anyway? When the journey is so entertaining, there's no need to rush.//