"My lord, you honor us," the high priest's voice was breathy with reverence. "Never before have our prayers been answered so readily." He dropped to his knees and abased himself on the muddy floor of the cave. "How may we serve you, honored one?"

            The blonde man and Recks both restrained a chuckle. Given the horned, scaly form he currently resided in, laughter might scare his newfound followers away. Some visages were simply not meant for mirth.

            "Tell me, Anthony, where did you learn these rituals you perform? And your behavior now, what British horror film might have spawned that bit of absurdity?"

            "M-m-master?" Anthony gaped, his eyes wide with terror.

            "The truth, Anthony. Tell me."

            "I-I-it was many of them, my lord, not any single one," he answered, ashamed.

            "Americans," the blonde man muttered. "Get off your knees. Now."

            Anthony came to his feet.

            "I will say this once, and never again. The foolish rituals end now. While your intent with the virgin sacrifices is fine, it is no longer necessary, and indeed a wasteful practice that could endanger us. It ends. Dropping to your knees whenever I enter the room is useless. It ends. That practice only slows matters down, and we are in need of speed just now."

            "B-but my lord, how can we show our reverence?"

            "Follow my orders exactly, and that will be reverence enough. Commands are to be followed instantly and never questioned. Is that understood?"

            "Of course, my lord." He began to sink to the floor, but quickly halted himself.

            "Good. How many people follow your guidance?"

            "Forty-four, my lord, as of yesterday. Twenty I would trust with my life."

            "How many would you trust with my life, Anthony?"

            "The same twenty," he assured the demon.

            "Have they any training? Weapons and such?"

            "Some. Not a great deal."

            The blonde man pondered that. "I will address them. All of them. Take me to the antechamber. Now."

            Recks fluttered by his master's ear. "Are you certain master I know what you intend it will weaken you greatly."

            "You worry too much, Recks." Mentally, he explained to his companion, Weak though it might make me, it will be worth it. I have no need of strength for this portion. We cannot wait much longer – the Slayer must be isolated from the Key soon. The others she closes off through her own choice, but the Key is her sister. It must be removed or we will be unable to begin our work.

            Recks nodded. He knew the plan, and though he thought it unnecessarily risky, he could only follow his master's lead.

            "Buffy! This is the last time! One more and I swear to God I'm so out of here!" Dawn's angry shout echoed through the house on Revello Drive.

            Faith raised an eyebrow.

            "She doesn't like it when I borrow her lipstick," Buffy replied with a shrug. They were sitting at the dining room table with Xander. She yelled back, "Sorry, Dawnie. It's on my dresser."

            Five minutes later, Dawn made her way into the dining room, both wearing and carrying the offending lipstick.

            "Buy. Your. Own. You do have a job, you know. Try using it," she said, her hands on her hips.

Faith chuckled. "Ouch, B. I think you better listen, before the mystical Summers goes Bruce Lee on your ass."

            "It's just lipstick."

            "I dunno, Buff. First it's lipstick, then it's eyeliner, then before you know it she's given away her whole makeup counter and half of Czechoslovakia. Better to stop it early before you get eaten by the alligator." Dawn laughed; Buffy and Faith both raised an eyebrow, and Xander sighed. "I wish Willow were here. She understands me."

            "She's really at a magic school, huh? Wicked."

            "No, no, just good magic … and that's kind of obvious, huh?"

            Dawn and Buffy didn't have a chance to reply. Spike burst into the entry, slapping the door out of his way as he heaved a disheveled man onto the floor. The man was almost as pale as his bloodstained white robes.

Dobby scooted through the closing door, watching Spike with a deferential smile and wide eyes. "Hello, the Xander, Miss Buffy, Miss Faith. Hello Spike's bit," he added to Dawn.

Spike bent over, panting unnecessary breaths from the rush and missing Buffy's enraged glare.

"Planning on telling me why there's a Last Supper runaway on my floor anytime soon?"

            Blue eyes met blue eyes as he turned his head. "Found this bloke loiterin' in the bushes, lookin' like he meant ta do bad things. He was watchin' the house, Slayer."

            "Which, as you can certainly attest, is a sign of evil," Xander said.

            Spike ignored him and pressed on. "Dunno for who. Can't be anyone with good intentions, pet. I was thinking a spot of violence might do some good."

            On the floor, the robed man whimpered and clutched his red-streaked garment tightly around himself. Buffy leaned over, catching a whiff of fetid breath.

            "Ugh. You couldn't take him to CVS for some toothpaste first?" She grabbed the limp collar of his robe. "Why were you watching my house?"

            "I-I-I … n-not w-watching …"

            She slapped him with her open right hand. "So not in the mood for games right now. Why were you watching my house?"

            "K-key … W-we … I was w-watching for the Key …" The man's eyes were so wide with terror that the she could see a white ring around his irises.

            "The Key? Were you in the mall? Why? Who are you? What do you want with her?"

            "Slow down, lamebrain," Dawn told her. "He needs to get a word in to answer your questions."

            For the first time, the robed man turned his eyes on Dawn. He began shouting hysterically, "The Key! It is here! It is! The Key!"

            Buffy slapped him again, and he ceased shouting.

            "No need to yell. We know that already. The neighbors don't need the 4-1-1, too."

            The man kissed a signet ring on his finger. Buffy reached down and roughly ripped he ring from his hand. It had an unfamiliar design with a pentagram embedded in the middle of an onyx background. She pocketed it for Giles' later review.

            "This is creeping me out," Dawn said, her voice anxious, "I mean, what's up with people trying to hunt me down? Those freaks in the mall and now a bargain basement monk sitting outside the house?"

            "Something's not right, bit," Spike agreed. He looked at Buffy and shrugged. "Want me to get her out of here? Take a stroll hither or yon or whatall?"

            Something heavy shattered the dining room window. Faith had the closest seat to the window; on sheer instinct she leaped from her chair and snatched the object before it landed. She skidded across the wood floor; a full wine bottle with a burning rag stuck in the top rested in her palm.

            "Shit! Firebomb!" She screamed, chucking it back out the window, over the lawn, and into the street beyond. The bottle burst into a ring of fire on the pavement, lighting up fifty yards of Revello Drive in either direction.

            In the shadows of the firelight, they could see ten robed cultists advancing on the house. Their weapons gleamed with the menace that their masks surely hid from view.

            "N-now you will bow to my master," the man in the entryway rasped, staring at Dawn. "The Key will be his, and you will all roast in the flames of hell! You – "

            Dawn drove her fist into his face, pulping the man's nose and ending his tirade with the gurgle of rushing blood. "'Kay, Buffy, what now?"

            "Whoa, D," Faith muttered.

            Buffy dashed across the hall and kicked open her weapons trunk. "Xander, Anya and the boys will be here soon, right?" Xander nodded. They had stayed late at the Magic Box and were supposed to meet him at Buffy's. "Alright – when we distract them, head towards the Magic Box. Bring them back here – we'll need them when we're done. Spike, take Dawn and Dobby and get out of here. Don't come back for a few hours, and," she added with a touch of tenderness, "be careful."

            "Not to start a row, luv, but I think we have a more pressing problem than getting demongirl, don't you?" He gestured to the cultists skirting the flames outside. "Shouldn't the moron here take Dawn and I'll help you?"

            "Listen, Junior, you do what your told. Got it?

            Buffy reached into the trunk and pulled out a pair of shiny objects. "How many? Ten?" One of the shiny objects spun through the air into the dark-haired Slayer's hands. "You want half?"

            Faith smiled and slipped the brass knuckles onto her right hand.

            "Get the others and get Dawn out of here," Buffy said to Xander and Spike. "We'll handle the Gregorian hit squad."