Chapter 3

Jane couldn't believe her eyes. Dawn was simply getting up, trying to leave them without saying another word. Surprise quickly made way for anger though, and she rose to her feet in indignation. "Oh no you don't."

Her friend ignored her though and, having already reached the door, put her hand on the handle. But Jane simply wouldn't accept her walking out. Nobody ignored her when they were in her room, nobody. Not even her best friends. "If you turn that handle no amount of superpowers will help you. Slayer."

This finally stopped Dawn, who turned around with a look of confusion on her face. "What did you call me?"

"You heard me, Slayer. That's what you are, isn't it? That's what happened during Halloween. Somehow you got called, what was it? A vampire attacked you and suddenly you found you could beat it back?"

"What?"

For a moment Jane looked back at Sara, who was still sitting at the bed, but whose silent support she really needed right now. Her friend nodded in agreement, but remained quiet. They'd decided earlier that if it got this bad, only one of them would do the talking. And as Jane had the biggest mouth, she hadn't hesitated in taking that job. Turning back to the still surprised Dawn, she saw something that made her hesitate.

There was pain in her eyes, pain and something else she didn't know the words for. Some strange mix of longing, regret, and even hope. This girl really didn't know what she was doing, did she? "Dawn, please let us help you," Jane begged her friend while taking a step forward.

"Stay away from me. You do- Ah!" Dawn went to her knees in sudden pain, causing both Jane and Sara to run to her.

"Dawn? What's going on?"

"What's hurting you?"

No answer was forthcoming, and Jane quickly directed Sara to get some water from the bathroom while she tried to help their friend. "Dawnie? Come on girl, don't act like this."

"Not...," her friend managed between breaths. Or at least that's what it sounded like, although Jane had no idea what her friend was trying to say. Not acting? Not faking?

"What?"

"I'm not-" Once again Dawn took her head between her hands and groaned in pain. "Hurts, why hurt so much?"

"Should we call a doctor?" Sara asked as she returned with the glass of water and they set it to Dawn's lips.

"No, no doctor," was Dawn's reply before Jane even had a chance to say something. Well, a doctor probably wouldn't know what to do with a sick Slayer anyway.

"Should we call your Guide?"

For the briefest of moments, her friend's face displayed confusion before once again being overtaken with suffering. "Guide?"

"The one who helps you find the vampires."

"Not a Slayer."

"What do you mean, you're not a Slayer? No never mind, we need to get you better first. Come on girl, hold on. You can do this." She then turned to Sara. "Help me get her on the bed."

Sara nodded her agreement with that plan, and they both took one of Dawn's arms and half-carried, half-dragged her the short distance to the bed where they had to struggle to actually get her on it. Only once they had managed that, and Dawn was twisting around violently on the bed, did the two friends look at each other in confusion.

It was Sara who broke the silence. "What's going on?"

"I don't have a clue," Jane answered while looking at their friend. "But she said that she isn't the Slayer, and that doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe we were wrong?"

"But how? What else could she be? It makes so much sense."

"What do we really know about the situation? Aren't you the one who's always looking into the facts?"

"Right." Jane took a deep breath, meant to not only calm herself, but to make her focus as well. And not only on Dawn's strange whispers. What was the girl saying? It almost sounded Japanese or something. "Fact one: Dawn changed a lot after Halloween, she knows how to fight, she doesn't sleep as much, stuff like that. This points to a rather big change in her behavior, right?"

Sara nodded her agreement with that, while continuing to cast nervous glances at the bed. "Right."

"Fact two: Dawn knows about the Slayer, and vampires."

"How can you be sure?"

"You saw the lack of surprise when we mentioned them. And she knew enough about Slayers to say that she isn't one."

"Alright, that's true. Anyway, that doesn't tell us anything yet, there are a lot of possible reasons for that."

Jane shook her head in denial, while half of her mind was starting to come up with ways they could help Dawn right now. Professional medical help seemed out, but what about a painkiller or two? No, she didn't want to risk putting any strange stuff into Dawn's blood right now. Why hadn't she read more about medications and such? "No, not that many. And then there's the whole thing about her not telling us."

"I know, I know. Remember? We talked about this before. It's the whole secret identity and protecting her friends thing. We probably wouldn't have found out about all this, if you hadn't been attacked."

As Sara mentioned the attack, Jane once again felt goosebumps all over her body, and while she put her arms around herself, she still couldn't stop herself from shivering at the mere memory of that night. It was ridiculous, intellectually she knew that, but she simply couldn't stop herself. Every night, every single night since it had happened, she dreamed about it.

The dreams always started the same too; so eerily close to the way things had really gone. She would be walking home through the park, having just spent a nice evening at Sara's house and feeling happier than she had ever since. And then suddenly two men would appear several meters in front of her, scaring her initially but she'd soon get over that fear.

This was Sunnydale after all, nothing really bad ever happened here. Sure, once in a while the newspaper reported something that had happened, but the people who died were usually members of one gang or another. Whenever someone died in Sunnydale, it had invariably something to do with the gangs on PCP. Kinda predictable in her opinion, but she didn't really care.

It's not like she ever had anything to do with people like that. And that's why she wouldn't react as if she'd just been attacked when the men would start walking towards her. They didn't act stoned or anything—at least if the television showed her the right behavior that went with that term—so they were probably a couple of friends out for a nice night. Well, who could blame them? It was a nice night, and she herself enjoyed the evening air quite a bit.

"Hi," she would politely greet them, while trying to walk around them.

"Hello little girl," one of the men would leer at her, instantly putting her at guard.

And that was the moment the dream turned into a nightmare, when she'd start believing that perhaps these men weren't so innocent after all. That maybe they were after more than she was willing to give. Maybe, just maybe these people wanted to hurt her. She'd speed up, walking faster, but not yet running, and hoping they'd leave her alone. But it never worked. The moment she would pass them, the hand of the one closest to her would shoot out and take her arm in an unbreakable grip.

She knew it was unbreakable because she tested it. Extensively. First politely asking if they'd let her go, than begging, and finally screaming while hammering on the arm with her weak fists.

Never, in any of the dreams or even the reality of the actual experience would any of that work. The only purpose it had ever served was to make them laugh. "Oh yes little girl, scream louder. Make your heart pump, and your fear grow. That way your blood will taste even sweeter."

Unlike when it really happened, the men wouldn't play with her in their human form for long. Instead they'd turn into vampires almost immediately, but that never stopped them from taunting her. Telling her how they would drink her dry, before tearing her into little pieces and repeating those actions first with her own parents, before going over to Sara and her parents. And once they were done with that, they'd go after her other friends and their family.

The biggest difference with reality however was how one thing never happened. In the nightmares she kept begging, wishing, screaming that someone would come to help her. Yet nobody did. In reality she had been saved by Dawn's Xander, and that was what her biggest reason was for believing Dawn to be the Slayer.

The logic was pretty simple, and while she admitted that there were a couple of shortcuts in her reasoning, Jane was sure she was right. It had started with the book she'd read about vampires. One of several actually, but there was only one that mentioned the Slayer. That one girl in the whole world who stood against the darkness. Dawn's Xander knew about vampires and nobody kept secrets from Dawn. Not for long at least. Therefore Dawn knew about vampires.

Slayers were called when they were young. Dawn was young. Dawn had been acting differently since Halloween. Therefore Dawn was the Slayer. It all made perfect sense to her, and Sara had agreed with her logic. Until now that is.

Once again Jane looked down at her friend—could she still call her that?—and wondered what secrets were lying behind those pained eyes. What could she tell them? "Do you think that maybe we should call mom?"

"She told us not to."

"Actually, she told us not to call a doctor. But maybe mom knows something..." Jane trailed off as she realized just how silly she was sounding. Her mother wouldn't be able to help with anything but calling a doctor either, and Dawn didn't want that.

"Why doesn't she want a doctor?"

"What?"

Sara repeated her question, before adding to it. "And why would she lie about the Slayer thing anyway? If she's not a Slayer, she doesn't exactly have anything to hide, does she?"

"Not that I would know, no."

Jane started pacing, considering the questions her friend had put forth, while Sara started to expand on her ideas. "I think that maybe, just maybe, she's not a Slayer after all."

"No, she knows about them. Knows about them and wants to fight them," Jane once again rejected that idea.

"Why do you think she wants to fight the vampires?"

Jane stopped and turned around to face her friend again. "What do you mean?"

Sara shrugged. "Well, we've never actually seen her fight any vampires have we?"

"You've seen how she beat up Mike, and that was just for taking her watch."

"Well, I didn't really see it, only the aftermath like you, but that actually proves my point."

It wasn't often that Jane couldn't follow Sara's logic. After all, it was no secret that she was smarter than her friend. Quite a bit smarter in fact, and usually the only thing that Sara was better at had to do with stuff like clothes. Not that she didn't know anything about that, after all she couldn't let her friend think she was really way better in anything, now could she?

But this time she didn't understand where Sara was going with it. "Sara, you know you're my best friend right?"

"Yeah," was the slightly confused reply. Hah! Take that! She was no longer the only one confused.

"Right. That means you won't mind it when I tell you that that made as much sense as walking around the moon without any protection or air supply? Or that it was as logical as... I don't know, the plot in Mars Attacks?"

"Hey! That's not nice."

Jane reconsidered her comments, and had to admit that Sara had a point. "Okay, maybe the Mars Attacks thing was a bit over the line. But come on. How does attacking someone suddenly turn into Dawn not wanting to fight vampires?"

"I'm not sure," Sara started, ensuring Jane felt better immediately, "but there's something about Dawn that we've missed."

"Really? And what would that be?"

"I think I would've told you if I knew, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah." The two of them were back into more familiar territory again with this slight teasing, and Jane gave Sara a gentle push to underscore that fact.

"Watch it," her friend said while pushing back, causing her to stumble.

Of course, Jane wasn't about to let something like that slide and turned to the bed so she could get a pillow when she noticed the pale face of her friend surrounded by the blue covers.

Oh yeah.

How could they've been fooling around with their friend lying here like that? This was also the first time she noticed that Dawn had stopped trashing, which was probably the reason they'd been able to forget about her. No matter how awful that was.

From the guilty look she caught on Sara's face, it was obvious her friend was having similar thoughts. "Okay, let's be serious again. We've gotta find out what's wrong with her. This can't be good for her."

"Is she still in pain?"

"I don't know. She doesn't look like she is." In fact, if it wasn't for the way Dawn's chest was slowly moving with her breaths she might have thought her friend had died. No! Bad thoughts! Just because she wasn't moving at all didn't mean that had to be the case.

"What's wrong with her?" Sara murmured softly enough that Jane had difficulty hearing her.

"We've got to help her, calm her down or something."

"Jane? I think she's already pretty calm here, you know."

"Well yeah. But that's just her body, maybe her mind is having a lot of trouble."

Sara looked at her, and all Jane could do was shrug. She was no doctor or psychologist or anything, all she could come up with was based on logic. And it was times like this that she really wished she had more to fall back on, preferably some life-experience or something. Well, she considered wryly, this once again proved that you'd better be careful what you wish for.

"What's she saying?" Sara interrupted her thoughts, while leaning over Dawn in an attempt to hear what their friend was saying.

Jane now heard the soft murmuring that came from Dawn's mouth as well, but like Sara she had no idea what the words meant. "It's almost like it's Japanese or something. Since when does Dawn speak that?"

"Uh, I don't know. She never told me that either, I mean she could've watched Noir in the original language if she did. Which would be really cool."

Noir? Something was niggling at the back of her head, but even while concentrating on it, Jane couldn't quite find out what it was. But maybe Dawn wanted to listen to some Japanese music, and that was something she could do. "Hey, how about we play some music or something? If she wants to hear Japanese, I've got the soundtracks."

"Good idea!" Sara exclaimed, before furrowing her brow. "Except there's not much Japanese in them, is there?"

"Sure there is, and besides the rest is really cool and relaxing as well. It'll help her," Jane convinced her friend and walked over to her stereo, and putting the first soundtrack in the CD-player. After all, it was one of her favorite CDs as well, and Dawn wasn't the only one who needed some relaxing.

Walking back to the bed, she tried to think of what she could do next. "Hey, she's holding the watch thingie," Sara interrupted her thoughts.

"What?"

"Look, she's like trying to crush it or something."

Huh, it was true, although that made even less sense than anything else had during this admittedly weird day. The way Dawn was now gripping the fake watch made her wonder why it wasn't broken yet. She hadn't seen it recently, but it made sense to her that a bit of plastic like that couldn't possibly be strong enough to withstand such an onslaught. Onslaught, cool word. No. No thinking about words of the day, focus on helping Dawn.

Jane tried to figure out why her friend would be holding the watch. Maybe it had something to do with the grounding she used it for? Casting a quick glance at Dawn's face before turning back, she tried to-. Wait a minute... turning back to look at her friend's face, Jane noticed she hadn't been mistaken after all, and out of confusion she could only whisper the discovery. "She's crying."

"What?"

Jane repeated her earlier comment, only this time in a louder voice. "Dawn's crying."

"Do you think it's from the watch thing?" Hey, that was a good point, if Dawn was gripping the watch like that, it was probably cutting into her flesh.

"Let's get it out of her hands then," she answered while starting to pry open Dawn's hand, something that wasn't as easy as she'd assumed. "Man, this is hard. Help me will you?"

"Sure," Sara answered while starting her own work on one of Dawn's fingers.

It took them a while, especially when they discovered that if they had one of Dawn's fingers removed, and let it go, she would put it back. But finally, after several minutes of hard work, they managed to remove the watch from her grip. An action that made Dawn trash around again.

Sara was the one who'd taken the watch, and it was her who discovered it. "Jane?"

"Yes?" Jane asked while keeping her eyes on her other friend, who was really messing up her bed.

"This watch, wasn't it supposed to be fake?"

"Of course it's fake. You were there when we got it, remember?"

"I know, that's why I asked because this one ain't."

What? Turning away from Dawn's trashing, Jane wanted to ask Sara what she was talking about, but the familiar tones of the watch stopped her cold. Just like it seemed to sooth Dawn, who stopped trashing the moment she heard it. All Jane could do was whisper. "What the-?"

"Wow. I wasn't sure if it played the music as well, but this is..." Sara trailed off and the two of them looked each other in the eye, both seeing the recognition in each other's eyes.

"You know," Jane started, "maybe you were right about her not being the Slayer."

"Uh-huh," Sara nodded, "why be a Slayer when you can be something way cooler?"

"It would explain why she's so messed up."

"Yeah, it would need something like magic though. Does that exist?"

"The whole vampire and Slayer thing is based on magic. I'm sure there are real practitioners out there as well."

"But something like this..." Sara shook her head, obviously not believing it was anymore possible than she did.

A horrible thought than crossed Jane's mind. "Makes you wonder though, doesn't it?"

"About what? The magic?"

"No. What if the two of us had been able to go out with her after all. Would that mean all three of us would be like that?"

"Or two of us."

Jane didn't need anymore information to realize what exactly her friend was hinting at. During the series the three saplings hadn't exactly been the best of friends, each trying to kill both of the others at least once. And considering she would've worn the Chloe suit, this was the first time Jane was happy about being ill during Halloween. Happy beyond belief that her mother had forbidden to even wear the costume inside. Who knew what might've happened?

A sudden cry from Dawn—or was it Kirika?—drew her attention back to her friend. There were still the questions of what had happened, how this could have happened, and what it all meant, but they had to wait for now. First she had to help her friend, something she realized wouldn't exactly be easy when she noticed a scar suddenly appearing on Dawn's arm.

Something that was so against every rule of nature, that she had only one single thought. And when she voiced it, Jane didn't censor it in any way. "What the fuck?"

x.x.x

It didn't happen very often that Cordelia got really angry, but these past couple of weeks had proved to her that it was possible to live in a state of perpetual anger after all. First the cheating bastard, then the ridiculing by those worthless sheep, followed by the desecration of her car, the gang members, and the wayward slave. And now, suddenly out of nothing some bastards thought they could attack her in her own home.

Well, she'd make sure they'd realize their mistake. Shortly before they died.

Once again she wrapped her hand around the gun that had saved her once already, and mentally prepared herself for the dirty job of killing someone. Cordelia raised the weapon so that she could use it against the man who'd just burst through her front door. He would be the first to die. The first, but not the last.

As soon as the man was no longer covered by the door she pulled the trigger on the silenced gun. Unfortunately her aim hadn't improved much since shooting the windows. It would have been nice if she'd managed to actually hit the man, but it was a rather unlikely occurrence. Still, that didn't prevent her from continuing to fire even after the man had taken cover behind the cabinet.

Until he started returning fire that is. From the first moment the man's bullets came closer than her own had and she quickly let herself roll to the side of the hallway. Why had she stayed out in the open anyway? She might not be very good at tactics, but she wasn't an idiot either.

The moment she was relatively safe, Cordelia sneaked a peek at Dawn, who was still lying in the middle of the hallway. As she caught sight of the wound on the girl's arm, she winced, knowing that wound was her fault. If she hadn't stayed out there in the open, Dawn wouldn't have been fired at.

No, no time for self-recrimination. She needed to consider her current situation, and act on it. It wouldn't be long before the other attacker arrived, and if she was still here by that time...

Alright, she had a plan. Not a very good one, but at least it was centered on getting a weapon she could actually handle decently. Her own sword. She gave Dawn another concerned look. Maybe they should have taken the slave's sword along anyway. Unfortunately Dawn had obviously decided against that: probably because it was too big.

First order of business, she needed to get out of here. Rising to her feet, she fired another couple of shots, hoping that the gun contained at least a couple more bullets, and starting running to the living room. The shots had given her a tiny window of opportunity, but when she was hit in her left shoulder after only taking a couple of steps, it became clear that the window hadn't been quite big enough.

No matter, she could live with the pain. Diving to the ground the moment that first bullet reached her was enough to dodge the ones that came after it. She might not be a fighter, but she knew gymnastics, and wasn't about to fall for the same thing twice in a single day.

Rolling over her right shoulder she didn't miss a beat before getting to her feet again and continued her run while making herself as small as possible. Finally reaching the door, she crashed into it with her good shoulder. That didn't make her feel any better about her wound, but when the door opened she let out a relieved sigh. Had the door been closed, she would have been trouble. Well, more trouble than she already was.

Stumbling into the living room, she quickly moved to the side, where the attacker couldn't reach her, and after risking getting hit by another bullet while closing the door she quickly scanned the room. There was a slight pink tang to one of the walls, and she felt nausea rise within her as she realized what that pink signified. The nausea was quickly replaced with anger though. Whoever had done this to her servants would pay for their crimes. At least it was obvious now that they were indeed after her, and that this wasn't just a coincidental kidnapping attempt.

Staring at the discolored wall was taking too much time though, and she quickly tore her attention away before moving to the painting that hid what she was looking for. Moving it aside didn't hurt much, showing that the gunshot wound was well on its way to being healed. Unfortunately that was the only good thing about it.

Instead of being faced with the door and its ever-present electronic lock, she was staring at an empty hole in the wall.

"Looking for this?" Cordelia heard from behind her, causing her to spin around and look at the man standing there.

Despite the fact that this one too was still wearing a gas mask, she knew it wasn't the same one she'd encountered earlier. But that wasn't the most important thing she noticed about him. Nor was the gun he was pointing at her. Oh no, that honor was reserved for the fact that the unmitigated bastard was defiling her precious sword with his fingers. "Give it back."

"Drop the gun," the man demanded. She had no intention of complying with his demand though; at least not until he fired a billet that she could practically feel as it whizzed past her head. The gun dropped from her hand before she even thought about it. She wouldn't have been able to kill him before he did the same to her, which meant she had to look for a different solution.

"Had we known you had a sword here yourself, we wouldn't have bothered bringing something ourselves," the man mused as he spared a moment to look at her heirloom. Cordelia considered taking action at that moment, but the gun never wavered from where it was pointing at her head.

Which meant she was back to repeating her earlier demand. "Give it back."

"Why? I know it's pretty and it'll probably be worth quite of a bit of money to the right person, but why would you want to have it now? Do you want to fight me with it? Do you believe you're faster than a bullet? He stopped talking to her then, but cocked his head as if he was listening to someone. "Yeah, I've got her here. Situation under control, I was just about to ask her about any valuables... Alright."

"You won't get any information from me, you filthy swine," Cordelia seethed, trying to use anger to overcome her fear. This was bad, they were actually after her head. The situation had been quite bad when she'd still had hope she might live through this situation and the worst that could happen would be a public death, but now...

"Of course we will. Won't we colonel?"

"That's right. After all, everybody breaks sooner or later, and after being in this shithole of a town for far too long, we deserve something extra."

Swiveling around, Cordelia took a look at the man who'd just entered the room from the same hallway she'd just left. This man too, wasn't the one she'd faced earlier. Were there two people who'd attacked her? No, so this man must have arrived later. Which was probably also the reason he had actually taken off his gas mask. Time for bravado. "Give it your best shot. I've faced things you can't even imagine, I'll withstand your silly interrogation."

"Somehow I doubt that. Do you know what's happening right now in the hallway you just left? Quite a big and interesting one by the way, your parents had good taste."

Once again Cordelia focused on the part angering her, while putting aside the grieving for later. She had been the one who'd arranged the design of the house, Patricia and Anthony had only been the front through which she did so. Patricia and Anthony, thinking about those two saddened her, she could still remember them as little children... No! Anger, not sadness.

"No? Well, let me tell you then. You see, we hadn't really counted on you bringing any friends along, but well," the so-called colonel shrugged, "you did. So now we have to use the contingency plan for cases like that. Which should take place in about... now."

Cordelia listened with fear in her heart, but didn't know for sure what was supposed to take place, although she had a good idea. Ten seconds passed, but nothing happened. "What?" Try for the verbal assault, that's what she was better at than anyone else.

Behind his mask—why was the fool still wearing that anyway?—she could see that the other man was starting to wonder the same question, until he suddenly started chuckling. "Silly me, I forgot about the silencer. We wouldn't have been able to hear it through that door."

"No," Cordelia denied. They couldn't have. "She's only a little girl."

"Was a little girl, thank you very much. But don't worry, she isn't the first one. Of course, that does leave one question unanswered."

"Will you join them, or give us what we want?" a third man asked as he stepped into the room.

How many of them were there? Cordelia wondered, as she realized this wasn't the first one she'd encountered either. Not that it really mattered, despite their words it was obvious to her that they'd kill her. The fact that according to the lowlife holding her sword they'd brought something that could be used for taking her head only served to cement that belief. Still, despite the fact that her situation was far from good, pretending confidence was easy. "If you want something, you'll have to work to get it."

"Oh, we will. Trust me, we will," the man in front of her said while turning away from her to share the fun with his colleagues. A moment Cordelia had been waiting for.

She didn't want to be there when they discovered she could heal from her wounds, who knew what kind of things they'd do to her then. Which left two possibilities, she'd either kill them, or they'd kill her. No other options were available.

This was it. Before she even had time to think about it, Cordelia started moving. Knowing she couldn't possibly outrun a bullet, her goal wasn't freedom but the one thing that might help her. The earlier events had already shown her that she wouldn't be able to use the gun at her feet to achieve the required effect. Her sword on the other hand was a weapon she was more than comfortable with.

They reacted faster than she'd anticipated. She had barely taken her first step when a warning shot was fired, ruining the expensive carpet in front of her. But that didn't stop her. Her sword was almost within reach, and once she had that...

Cordelia managed several more steps before a bullet hit her in the leg, causing her to stumble. But once again she had no intention of letting a mere bullet stop her. Ignoring the pain she persevered and before they even realized that to be the case, she threw herself on the man before her.

Unfortunately she realized too late that an action like that would cause him to actually pull the trigger while pointing at more vulnerable places. As the bullets hit her stomach, she opened her mouth in a wordless scream, but even had she wanted it to there was no way she could stop now.

Grappling for her sword, Cordelia hardly noticed as the two of them fell to the ground. The bullets in her stomach hurt, but she would heal from those wounds. Right now she had the upper hand as the men had never expected her to do this. It was only when her opponent rolled them over until he was on top that she realized that her situation hadn't improved, but had actually gotten worse.

She wasn't good at this kind of fighting. Well, she wasn't good at any fighting, but this close stuff was even worse. And with the man's mask covering his face, she couldn't even try to gouge out his eyes. But maybe she could use the mask anyway. Grabbing the man's mask she tried to move it in such a way that it would impede his sight. If that happened she might have a chance to get the sword.

Her attempts to do so were quickly intercepted though, as the man grabbed her hands before moving his head forwards into what she belatedly recognized as a headbutt.

Pain. So far she'd been able to ignore the pain that she was feeling, and the wounds of which were in fact starting to heal, but the man's move spread the pain out too far. Too many places were hurting now and together with the blood she was now also starting to lose the confidence that she'd be able to achieve either of her goals.

No! She would not give up! Despite everything, she would not give up. Never. Realizing she'd closed her eyes from the shock of the impact, she opened them again to stare defiantly at her opponent's face. The opponent who was holding both of her arms in one hand now while preparing the other for a blow.

Struggling wildly to get her arms free, she was almost surprised when her left actually seemed to break free. But she moved as fast as she could, it would only be moments before the hand would be recaptured again. Why hadn't she at least taken her dagger back from Dawn? She could have used that to slice the bastard open.

But that wasn't to be. Fortunately there was another weapon close by that she might be able to use, if only she had the room to take it out of the scabbard. The man made another grab for her arm, but scratching his hand with her nails made him pull back for a moment. She was half-surprised that something like that had worked, surely someone as strong as this could withstand that? And from the cheering that came from the other two, she figured they believed the same thing. Stupid bastards.

Back to business, there was even less time left now. Cordelia once again went for the hilt of the sword, and this time when she felt it she pulled it free. Success! While she didn't have the ability to remove it from the scabbard completely, it did come out enough for her to use it as a weapon. Not very conventional maybe, but the sharp blade could still be used to cut him and that's what she did.

This time when the man tried to grab her arm, he was met with shining metal. Hissing in unexpected pain, the man moved his arm away from the beautiful weapon. He was slightly off balance because of this, and Cordelia didn't hesitate to take advantage. Once again she used her body to fight her opponent, raising her knee to his crotch with the limited strength her injured abdominal muscles provided.

The expression of pain on the low-born's face was visible even behind the mask, and she couldn't suppress the gleeful satisfaction she felt at seeing it. The best part though was that he'd let go of her other arm as well, giving her even more freedom to move.

Moving to a sitting position, or at least as far as she could, she used this freedom to push the man off of her, after which she twisted the scabbard around in her hands until she had the hilt in her right hand. Immediately she drew it out completely, knowing that the other two would start shooting again any second now.

But she didn't care. With a single practiced move she slashed the sword down at the man's throat, laying it open the very moment a bullet entered her brain.

x.x.x

What the hell? The Colonel thought while lowering his gun as the crazy girl fell bonelessly to the ground. That wasn't normal, in fact, the whole mess hadn't been normal. And he would have to have a long talk with their client about it. Sure, the girl wasn't a good fighter, but her ability to continue despite the damage they'd inflicted on her was incredible.

He had been right about her being strong, and Face's refusal to believe that had cost him his life. Murdock had reached their partner by now, and sitting on his knees he tried to keep the parted skin of the man's throat together. "Come on buddy, look alive here."

It was no use, the Colonel had seen that already, but he was far from accepting it gracefully. How could some cheerleader take out a member of his team? And if she'd had to do that, why couldn't she have done so with Murdock? Face was his friend, while he wouldn't have missed the ambitious bastard that was Murdock.

"God damn it!" Murdock suddenly screamed, drawing the Colonel's attention to the fact that the expected had happened. The A-team was down to three members.

A part of him was impressed by how fast that last move had happened, the girl must have known what she was doing, there was no way around it. Nobody would be able to perform a killing move like that unless they were good with a sword. The neck and throat were vulnerable spots, but they weren't exactly easy to hit either, especially if you considered that the girl was sitting while she did so.

Still, no matter how much her final move had impressed him he felt no compassion for the girl, something he understated by walking over to her body and kicking the corpse in the ribs a couple of times. The sound of the breaking bones cheered him up a little, but wasn't enough to make him forget what had happened. Maybe if he kicked her in the head?

Once again the heavy boot impacted on the corpse, this time messing up the pretty face even more than it already was. Face had already done a good job on it, although now that he was closer, the Colonel could see that the damage wasn't as bad as he'd initially thought it to be. What he had thought were wounds, now seemed to be nothing more than bruises covered by blood.

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't add a couple of real wounds to it. Several more kicks followed, and soon Murdock joined in as well. Before long however, the Colonel had cooled down enough to realize he was acting pretty stupid right now. While he was a man down, the mission was also practically over. The only thing left to do was the actual beheading, before the three of them would get the hell out of dodge.

The three of them, that reminded him. Where was BA? Putting a couple of rounds in an unconscious little girl shouldn't take this long, which meant he should have joined them a while ago. "BA, report," he spoke in his radio, wondering why the man hadn't spoken up earlier.

No answer came however, and he looked at Murdock, who decided to try for himself. "BA man? What's keeping you?"

The silence that remained was frustrating, and increasingly worrying. Was there someone else in the house? The Colonel knew for a fact that the target hadn't taken BA out, as he himself had stopped the man from following the girl into the living room when he'd arrived downstairs. Instead he'd ordered the man to wait and deal with the little girl, while proceeding to the living room himself.

Therefore something was wrong. The lack of a reply in any form was a rather telling sign of enemy action. Quickly replacing his magazine with a fresh one, he nodded at Murdock who returned the gesture once he'd ensured he had enough bullets as well. The two of them then moved to the door until they flanked it from each side.

Grabbing the door, the colonel pulled it wide open while Murdock went in, professionally scanning the room with his weapon ready. Only when the strangely tremulous clear came, did the Colonel follow him in, and was faced with a sight that made him even more angry than before. Two men down.

BA was lying face down on the ground and his throat was decorated with blood. Kneeling next to him, the colonel examined the wound, trusting Murdock to keep him covered. From the appearance of the wound, BA seemed to have been killed by a knife in his throat. An action that had happened fast enough that he hadn't been able to send them a warning. This closer examination also showed him that the man's gun was missing as well. Which meant that BA's killer had taken the gun. Which led to the obvious question: who had killed him?

No, he corrected himself, the who was pretty obvious with the little girl missing, it was the how that he needed to know. Something that Murdock seemed to agree with. "How the fuck did she do this?"

"I'm not sure. When I passed her, she was out. And I rather doubt anyone is capable of acting that good."

"You told him to kill her, right?"

"Yes. Face had given the all-clear, so there was no more need to hurry where it concerned the target."

Murdock nodded, understanding his meaning. With the target secured, and as good as dead, they didn't need all four of them to hunt her down. "So, that means she woke up, interpreted the situation, and killed him, in what? Thirty seconds? A minute? I doubt he was trying to have some fun with her, no matter what she looked like. How old was this girl? The same age as the other? Because that sounds rather unlikely to me."

"No, she was perhaps fourteen, maybe even younger. I'm not good at guessing the age of kids, but she couldn't have been older than that. Which," he was loath to admit, "makes even less sense than if she'd actually been the same age as the target."

"Well, that at least shows he definitely didn't try to rape her. Fourteen is way too young for him. But no fourteen year old could have done this. Look at it, a clean strike leaving him without any chance of reporting in," Murdock gestured with one hand at the corpse, while the other was carrying the ever-moving gun.

With the Colonel back on his feet, both of them were scanning their surroundings during the entire conversation, never once letting their guard down. "A professional job. Yeah, that could be it. And whoever did it probably moved the girl so we can't use her as bait."

"True, but did he take her before or after BA was done with her?"

Before or after BA was done playing? the Colonel thought, but didn't voice it aloud. There was too much at stake right now for either of them to be distracted. "Don't know. Who could it be? A bodyguard?"

"I never saw any, and if that's the case, why didn't he help the target?"

More damned riddles, he really didn't like this entire situation. "Let's finish the job."

"What? You mean to let this asshole live after what he did to BA?"

"I intend to finish the job first, then we'll find out who did this, and then..." the Colonel trailed off, not yet sure what he'd do. Except that it would be painful.

"Good," Murdock answered. "Now let's go take care of that little bitch. I want to get down to the important stuff."

Important stuff? It was comments like that that showed the Colonel that Murdock wasn't ready to command even himself, let alone anyone else. Alright, when Face had been killed, he hadn't been entirely calm either, but he'd never lost the perspective. Mission first, vengeance later.

And, despite his earlier words, he wasn't too sure about doing the vengeance thing at all. From the moment he'd seen his friend die, it had become obvious to him that there was more to all this than he'd previously thought. Something was very wrong about this place. An eighteen-year-old girl who kept going despite being shot and a little girl who suddenly disappeared, leaving only the corpse of one of his men.

Alright, some of that could be explained away for various reasons, but to encounter that much weirdness during one single mission? Especially a mission that in itself was strange enough? No, there really was something fishy about all of this.

Especially the kid bothered him, he hadn't thought about it when he'd taken that first glance at her, but it had been the girl he'd noticed in that club as well. Where he'd first noticed her when looking around for whoever was paying attention to him. And later when she'd spoken to the target. Was there a bodyguard or someone with a similar function who'd killed BA? Or was the kid a far better actor than he'd given her credit for?

No, once again the Colonel shook his head, no kid could do something like that. No normal kid at least, but what was it that the target had said earlier? Something about having seen things they couldn't imagine?

Who cares? He was going to cut off the target's head, leave this town, empty the bank account, and move to some tropical island where he'd spend the rest of his days among the young and beautiful. The A-team was done, and screw Murdock.

"Right, let's do this." The door to the living room was still open, and he'd kept half an eye on everything inside, but that didn't mean the two of them took any chances. Once again they covered each other before moving inside and heading for the target. Their eyes locked, and a short battle of wills commenced.

Neither really wanted to be the one to swing the sword, there was just something about doing that to a corpse that didn't sit well with them. But with a small nod the Colonel allowed Murdock to be the one to provide the cover. All that anger might be lessened by swinging the sword, but in case the mysterious bodyguard or whoever would show up it was also clear that Murdock would go after him faster. And no matter how that battle ended, it would solve at least one of his problems.

Bending down, he took the sword out of the target's hands and prepared himself for the swing. No, this wouldn't work, she was too low. Putting the sword back down, he dragged the corpse to the couch, against which he positioned her in a sitting position. There, that was better, now he could at least chop the damn thing off without having to kneel on the ground.

Turning around again to pick up the sword, he suddenly frowned. There was something about the corpse that didn't fit. Turning back, the Colonel took a closer look. She wasn't breathing, that much was obvious, and there was more than enough blood to account for all the wounds as well...

The wounds. That's it. Where were the wounds? He could see some of them, but the damage he'd done to her face had disappeared. It was gone, healed. "What the fuck?" he said while slowly backing away from the creature before him.

"What is it?"

"She's fuckin' healing or something."

Murdock was silent for a moment, probably wondering what he was blathering about. "What? Did you just say that she's healing?"

"Her wounds are disappearing man, it's ridiculous."

"Don't play with me here, I'm really not in the mood." The words were the usual bravado, but the Colonel could clearly hear the nervousness in the man's voice.

That was something he could really understand. Wetting his suddenly parched lips, he tried to think of anything that might explain this. There had always been stories in wars about people who'd survived something they shouldn't have. Stories like that came with the job. He'd never met any of those survivors himself and had always figured they were just that, stories.

But if the wounds were healing, did that mean she was like them? Who knew, maybe she'd even be able to get back to life? He doubted it, but he couldn't be certain. If she could heal all those wounds she might be able to return from the dead. And if that was the case it might be better to complete the mission and get out of here before she woke up again. Or was that why the client had demanded a beheading? Had he known that she could do this? Could beheading be the only way to kill her permanently?

"Right. This is freaky," Murdock said while staring at the girl as well. "Do you think she might come back to life or something? Because in that case she might tell us who it was that killed BA."

Of course, he should have realized how the man would react. But the Colonel didn't feel like taking any chances, better to just cut off her head and be done with it. Once again he turned around to get the sword, but this time he didn't stop until he was holding it. "Don't know, don't care. I'm gonna cut of her head and get outta here. There's no way in hell that I'm gonna talk to the living dead, or the dead come back alive, or anything like that."

"Huh, you might be right about that," Murdock acknowledged, before raising his head and gun to aim at the glass doors leading to the garden. "What's tha-"

He was cut off by the sound of falling glass, and probably by the fact that he was getting pumped full of bullets as well. Horrified the Colonel spent a ridiculously long second staring at the last living member of his team. Staring at the way those first bullets impacted on the body armor, before the gun's aim was adjusted and turned Murdock's face into an unrecognizable mess.

It was over within moments, although by the time Murdock crashed to the ground the Colonel had already regained his wits and was hidden behind a couch. Not the most perfect hiding spot, but it would have to do for now. "God damn," he whispered as he looked at the man who'd just been killed.

They had been so focused on the healing target that they'd stopped paying enough attention to their surroundings and that little bitch had taken advantage of it. And he was sure it was the girl, he'd seen her firing the gun, and if he'd been holding a gun instead of that crappy sword, she would have been dead.

At least he was holding one now. The Colonel looked lovingly at the weapon in his hand, and imagined how it would be used to put an end to the four-foot tall menace. This was ridiculous, he was hiding from someone barely out of diapers! And for that matter, how could a girl like that handle a gun that powerful? Shouldn't the recoil of a weapon like that be far too much for someone like her to handle? If it wasn't, he would have to write a letter to the company that manufactured the damned things, because this was simply not acceptable.

Still, he needed to take care of her now. She might be capable of hitting a stationary target with a gun, but there was no way she could have his experience. He'd gotten out of jams worse than this. Diving from behind of the couch, he rolled to his feet with the gun trained where he expected the girl to be and ready to fire.

Nothing. Continuing the roll until he was back behind cover again he narrowed his eyes in confusion, there was nobody in sight. The damned girl had left again.

Okay, what should he do now? First things first, he took a moment to shoot the target in the head again, no sense in having someone else wake up. Now, he had two choices to make. First, should he take the risk of beheading the target? It would mean he'd be unable to respond if the girl showed up again, but would net him quite some money.

The second choice was even more difficult, run or fight. Running away from the girl would make him feel like a coward, but judging from the way she'd already killed the other two, he had a feeling that fighting might make him feel like a corpse. Something he wasn't very fond of. "Screw this," he whispered.

Why was he talking to himself? Was the situation so bad that he really needed that to feel safe? Safe? Who was he kidding? He was outta here; there was enough money in the team's account to retire, even without the money this job would have earned them. Yep, he was getting out of this business, not even bothering to hunt down the client who'd gotten his team killed.

At least, not right now. You never knew how he'd feel in a couple of years when he was looking for a new hobby.

Carefully he scanned everything in sight for a possible place where the girl might be hiding. Not seeing anything, he then moved into the hallway, once again carefully checking everything that might pose even the slightest threat.

Still nothing, she was probably hiding in the backyard or something. Not that he minded. Pulling on the broken front door, he looked outside. Not seeing anything, he then carefully looked to both sides and only when he considered it safe did he holster his gun. There was no point in letting any of the neighbors know he was carrying a gun, and nobody would be stupid enough to attack him in broad daylight.

Of course, when the girl suddenly stepped away from the corner she was hiding behind, in full view of the neighbors, he spent the last moments of his life cursing himself for that assumption.

x.x.x

Awareness returned abruptly to Cordelia, but she didn't move. She had died. Again. But unlike the other TWO times today, she had deliberately caused her own death. This time she'd done so to spare herself the pain of being tortured. But now she was alive again, and her attackers would undoubtedly want to continue where they'd stopped.

Still, she decided while remaining as quiet as possible, life was hope. And as there was also a distinct lack of anything keeping her hands together, she thought that maybe, just maybe, those fools had made a stupid decision.

"They're dead. You can stop pretending."

The words filtered through Cordelia's brain, and while her first feeling was one of happiness that Dawn had actually survived as well, she couldn't prevent the sudden thought that she'd been right about the attackers making a stupid decision. "Dawn?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"How?" Cordelia opened her eyes, and was amazed by how clean the scene before her was. Somehow she'd expected there to be a gigantic mess, complete with massacred attackers.

"How what?"

"They were going to kill you. And you were still unconscious..." she trailed off while rising to her feet and wincing as the crusted blood pulled on her skin.

By now she'd located Dawn, who was sitting on the couch she'd been leaning against, and she turned around to face the girl who answered her at that very moment. "Remaining asleep while you're getting hit by bullets isn't very healthy. You weren't the only one who made that mistake though."

The bullet, could that have really woken her up? But weren't there other wounds as well? "You're hurt. Your back was slashed open, let me take a look at it."

"I'll live."

"Don't be like that, you can't still believe I'm not me, can you? Sheesh, trust me a little will ya? At least let me have a look at your arm then." Not waiting for a response she sat down next to Dawn and took the girl's wounded arm—and ended up with the barrel of a gun pressed against her forehead. "Or maybe not."

Letting go of the arm Cordelia backed away to the other end of the couch. At least the girl hadn't actually pulled the trigger again. She was getting really fed up with dying, and didn't want to do that again today. "Please trust me okay? I don't want to do you any harm, only inspect the wound. Do you have any idea how angry your mother would be if you died in my house? And who do you think she'd blame? It wouldn't be you, even if you're the one who neglected the wound. Oh no."

The gun remained pointed at her head, but Cordelia thought she detected a softening in Dawn's demeanor and decided she should risk getting closer again. Scooting closer, she carefully watched the other's eyes and stopped her movement when they hardened again. Well, at least there was some progress. She still couldn't touch the girl from this distance though. "This isn't going to work you know. I know I'm close to perfect, but that's mostly my looks. My telepathy isn't really up to snuff. So you either have to tell me what you want me to do or tell me that you don't want me to do this. Although you're managing that last part quite fine without talking."

Dawn seemed to think it over, until after a minute she suddenly nodded her approval, causing Cordelia to let out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief. Finally some real progress, this was going the right way. In fact it wouldn't be long now before the girl would trust her again. She might be a bit young, but ever since Halloween they had spent more time together. There was a lot the two of them had in common, from being unwanted members of the scoobies, to even being in lov- No, liking the same guy.

Moving until she was sitting next to the girl, Cordelia did her best to ignore the gun that was still pointed at her, and concentrated on the wound. "You cleaned it already. Did you put some disinfectant on it as well? And your back, did you do that too?" she asked after she'd lifted the bandage covering the wound. The damage wasn't too bad, although it probably hurt incredibly.

A curt shake of Dawn's head was all the reply she received for that, so she tried again. "If you don't clean it up, it'll get infected and you might die."

"I know."

Argh! This was so frustrating, and Cordelia almost started to despair about the lack of trust the girl had in her. "What can I do that will make you trust me? How come you killed people to save me, but don't believe that I am who I say I am?" And for that matter, where had the girl learned to kill like that? It wasn't the first time that particular question reared its head, but the mystery that was Dawn kept getting bigger and bigger.

"They attacked me," Dawn whispered while seemingly staring blankly into the void. "I don't like that. And you might be who you say you are. I couldn't take the chance of them killing you. They were going to cut off your head."

"I know," Cordelia whispered back, letting go of Dawn's arm and moving her hands across her perfect throat. She had come so close to dying permanently today, it was really starting to be too much for her. Once she could handle, twice was pushing it, but three times? She had actually died three times, and each time certain that it was the last time.

"The bodies are in another room."

"What?"

"The bodies of the attackers, I dragged them further into the house."

"You dragged them? But they were big, how did you manage that?"

A look of scorn was the only answer she received, and made her take the words back. "Alright, so you're stronger than you look. That shouldn't surprise me, should it? Are you part Slayer or something?"

This time a tiny smile crossed the otherwise emotionless face. "No, no Slayer."

"What's so funny about that?"

"Nothing," Dawn answered, still wearing that bemused smile. "It's just that you're not the first one to make that mistake."

"Really? Isn't it nice then that I keep making the same mistakes as other people?" Cordelia bit back. "But if it's not that, how?"

"Training," the girl shrugged. "There isn't much you can't do with the right training."

Well yeah, that was true. She knew that very well actually, there had been things in the past that had required a lot of training. Like the correct way of setting up an identity, or transferring everything she owned from one identity to another. "So, you trained with Buffy? Because I've never seen you do that, and- Hey, wait a minute. None of those losers use a gun, how come you do?"

"Are any of your neighbors actually at home during the day?"

What? Oh, she was trying to dodge the question, was she? Well she'd see about that "Not very often no, why?"

"Because I had to shoot one of the attackers outside your front door."

"You what?" Cordelia demanded while her eyes went wide open in shock. There went her cover.

"The last one, the one who called himself the Colonel, ran for it. He was stupid though."

"I don't care about that, did anyone see you? Do you have any idea what something like that could do to my reputation?"

Dawn only gave a tiny shrug. "Nobody saw me, or if they did they ignored it. And what reputation?"

That was mean! "What reputation? How dare you? Just because that low-born, cheating, double-crossing, dweeb-kissing zeppo told the whole world about what he did, doesn't mean my reputation can't be salvaged."

"You talk differently," Dawn answered with a thoughtful look on her face.

"What?"

"The reaction is that of Cordelia, but your words are different."

Alright, if that's what it would take. "They're not Cordelia's words, they're Callidora's."

"Callidora? Gift of beauty?"

"How do you-? Never mind, I take it you speak Greek then?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Dawn said while the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. An expression that didn't last long, and she soon turned grim again. "Explain."

"Right. Okay, how can I explain this? Right, let's try it like this. I was born in the year 1651, only a couple of years before the Restoration. My family had always been supporters of the Crown, even during the time of the Martyr King." Seeing Dawn's look, she explained. "Charles I, father of Charles II who was king when I was born, and who had been killed by Parliament after which England became a republic until the Restoration.

"Not that we'd done badly while they were in command of the country, but my father always supported Charles' claim. As a result we gained more land and influence after the Restoration. Those first years were good. Even after father died we retained our position, although it was harder to retain as much influence."

She sighed for a moment remembering those times. She had told the truth, they were still in command of the people on their lands and could control a lot of what happened in the bordering regions, but they'd lost their voice with the king.

"In order to restore some of that influence, it was decided that Charles, my brother not the king, and I would travel to see the king. With the war that was going on and the way Charles hadn't yet consolidated all his powers, the country was still in turmoil, and it would be dangerous to travel. Mother said we had to take a full escort, but we were young and I convinced Charles that we would be able to travel faster with fewer men.

"That was the stupidest thing I've ever done," Cordelia sighed. "We were barely off our lands before we died."

"How did that happen?" Dawn asked in a soft whisper, obviously having recognized how she felt about that moment.

Cordelia was silent for a moment, immersed in the memories of the fight Charles had put up when those brigands had attacked their coach. According to her memories he had taken down at least a dozen of them, but she realized that was rather unlikely. Still, those memories, fake or not, had cemented her high opinion of him for the rest of her life. Of course, when he had been taken down, she had known her life was forfeit.

"Protecting me. If only I hadn't been so stupid! I didn't want to wait until a decent escort could be formed though: there was someone at the court who I wanted to attract. It would have been my part in restoring the influence our family had, or at least that I had. Charles agreed with mother about the escort though, until I convinced him." She shook her head at the memories of that day.

"Charles had a weakness, he was in love. In fact, he was in love with someone of sufficient standing to marry and the wedding was even being planned at the time. I asked Christabel to help me convince him. After all, it would bring him back sooner. God, even thinking about that hurts." The last part came out in a whisper. How could she have done that to her friend? She had caused the death of her brother, something she didn't think her family could ever forgive her for.

Well, if she was lucky they'd at least shed a couple of tears for her as well, but it was more likely that they believed she'd gotten what she deserved. A feeling she couldn't blame them for. "Mother and Hazel remained at home, while we would travel in a coach. The road was supposed to be clear, Barely a handful of soldiers, my maid, and Charles' personal servant. If I hadn't been so excited I'd have probably felt naked."

A raised eyebrow from Dawn told her that to a modern American, that tiny escort was probably considered something far more impressive than it would have been to someone in her days. Of course, if they had been modern soldiers carrying modern-day weapons it would have been overkill for that age.

"We had been on the road for less than two days when it happened. A group of brigands attacked us. Charles joined the men in fighting them off, but there were simply far too many of them. They managed to kill quite a few with their pistols, but in the end it came down to swords. He used father's sword like it was made for him, killing each brigand that came within reach.

"In the end though the men were overwhelmed and killed. Which left my maid and I unprotected from that pack of raving maniacs. Like most of their kind, they weren't interested in the money I could bring them, or maybe they were but my beauty simply made them forget about it. Seeing me they simply decided to celebrate their victory, and mourn their dead, in another way."

"I'm sorry," Dawn whispered.

"Nothing you could do about it. You weren't born yet at that time, and it was probably the curse of being born as beautiful as me." Not that that knowledge had kept the nightmares at bay for all those years, and even now it was difficult to swallow the lump in her throat away. "Anyway, once they'd had their fun with me, they shoved a knife in my heart and left. Taking everything of value."

"But you didn't stay dead."

"No. Some time later I woke up, confused, naked and covered in blood. There weren't a lot of clothes lying around either, what hadn't been taken was unsalvageable, but one of my maid's dresses had been spared complete destruction. I probably looked horrible in it, and not just because we weren't the same size.

After walking for a while I ended up at a farm. They took me in, probably out of compassion after I told them an edited version of what had happened. Believing it to be better if the peasants didn't know my name, I made one up, Cisiphone."

Dawn interrupted her then. "That sounds like Tisiphone."

"That's what it was based on. I had risen from the death, and the only reason I could imagine at the time was to avenge the murder of both myself and Charles. They of course never made the connection to the Fury with that name.

"I spent about a week with them. First recovering from what had happened, and then they told me to help them. After all, they had helped me so it was obvious to them I should return the favor. Not that I had any idea of how to do anything but some needlework. Still, I tried my hand at whatever task they gave me."

Cordelia then looked at Dawn, she didn't want the girl to get the wrong impression. "I know I was a spoiled brat, but no matter what you want to think of me, I do repay my debts. Unfortunately, it didn't last very long as one of the sons tried some extortion on me. He would do my chores, if I allowed him into my bed at night. Of course, the children were already forced to do whatever I failed at anyway so there wasn't exactly an advantage in it for me."

Heaving a sigh, she continued. "The next day his parents accused me of being a whore who wanted to seduce their son with my wicked ways. Apparently I was so bad that I'd lied about what happened to them because it had undoubtedly come from having sex with the devil or some other such nonsense. Bloody religious freaks."

Seeing Dawn raise her eyebrow in surprise, she explained her words. "Yes I know, I was raised to pray for every single little thing I was planning to do as well. You want to eat? Pray to God for delivering the food to our table. Planning on going somewhere? Pray for a safe travel." Cordelia shook her head in disgust at that. "Trust me, once you've been burned on the stake because of religion your attitude on it changes quite a bit."

"Burned?"

"Yeah, I tried to get away from them, but they were faster. I was then dragged into the nearest town where I received some kind of sham trial and was condemned to burn at the stake. Of course, once I woke up I took my own revenge."

"Took your revenge?"

Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned that, but she hated remembering those times. "They figured I was the spawn of the devil, so why not let them know they were right? Burning people isn't the only thing for which you can use fire, buildings have this tendency to burn brightly as well. Besides, most of them survived."

Dawn didn't say anything, so Cordelia continued. "Anyway, after that I started hunting for those bastards who'd killed me the first time. Fighting wasn't my forte, but when you can't die there isn't much that can stop you. Especially when all you care about is revenge."

Cordelia closed her eyes then, once again seeing the bloody scenes in front of her mind's eye. It had been awful, but she hadn't cared about either the things she did, or about the things that happened to her. She had been an angel of death, bringing the curse of the Furies to her enemies.

"Not revenge. Justice."

"What?" Cordelia asked while opening her eyes.

"You were exacting justice, not vengeance."

"Whatever. I didn't stop until I finally recovered the sword. Their bastard of a leader had taken it. Actually that's when I discovered that it hadn't been such a bad thing that I'd been forced to leave the village, if I'd waited even a day longer the sword would have been sold. Sold! As if you can put a price on something like that." Agitated about the gall and sheer stupidity of that brigand, and the potential buyer she'd killed as well, Cordelia let her eyes rest on the familiar sight of the beautiful sword that she'd kept safe ever since. Surprised that she only noticed now, she realized that it had been cleaned, making her wonder how long she'd actually been out.

"That explains your behavior. Now tell me, Callidora, what are you?"

"Cordelia will do," she answered, not used to having anyone call her by that name. "And I'm an Immortal. As you've seen when you killed the slave, my kind doesn't die unless you separate our head from the rest of our body."

"By the slave you mean the man from earlier?"

"Yes, he was a former slave, he belonged to me when I owned an estate in Georgia. I didn't know he was like me until he died, at which time I threw him off the land and moved to India."

Dawn didn't seem to understand that part. "You moved to India because you encountered someone like you? Why?"

Damn, she hated telling this part to someone who she couldn't control. "There's something called the Game, which basically means that all these fools go running around cutting each other's head off."

"Because of the electricity thing." Not a question, but a statement. Dawn sure was a lot more observant than she led everybody to believe.

"Yes, it's called the Quickening. It basically transfers all of the losing Immortal's memories to the winner. There's some ridiculous story about the last man standing having the power to rule the world."

"But you don't believe it."

"Of course not, the thing's been going on for millennia, there'll never be a winner. And I'll just stay out of it, living my life the way I want it."

"Why did you come here?"

Cordelia shrugged, the answer was pretty obvious to her. "It's the Hellmouth, headhunters generally fear death, and won't come here. I paid a fortune to some witch, who hid my Quickening and messed with the memories of some of the people living here."

"You altered my memories?" The words were so cold that Cordelia felt her throat dry out, and had to swallow several times before she was even capable of answering.

"No, you didn't live here yet. This was about four years ago."

Dawn looked deeply in her eyes, before finally nodding in apparent satisfaction. "Good."

"O-okay," Cordelia said, while wetting her dry lips. "Anyway, the witch took care of the memories. Money did the rest, documents appeared where needed, some of my servants acted as my parents. The works."

Patricia and Anthony. They had enjoyed their work, and now they had died because of it. "But now someone is hunting you."

"Yes, somebody wants me dead. And you saved me. Am I going to hear your story now?"

A slight smile graced Dawn's face then. "I believe you're telling the truth. I'll be brief though. I lied during Halloween. I did get my costume at Ethan's and I dressed as Kirika, a character from the anime series Noir. She's an assassin, the best there is. And now, I'm her."

Okay. So if she understood that very short summary correctly, the little girl who always seemed to stay out of the action was the one person who was best suited for dealing with all the violence. "How did you keep that from us?"

"How did you?" Dawn countered. "People expect a certain behavior, show them what they expect and they won't look too closely at you."

"Touché," Cordelia admitted. "Now, do you trust me enough to take care of your back?"

"I think I can handle that."

"Excellent, there's a shower upstairs we can share. After that we'll call your mom, ask her if you can stay over tonight."

"I already did."

"What?"

Dawn shrugged. "You might be a danger, and I needed to be here to handle it."

"Kill me you mean."

"If necessary."

"What kind of excuse did you give her then?"

"I didn't need to. Buffy sent me after you, I explained you were upset and as one of the few people who cared about you it'd be best if I stayed over. Your parents aren't home by the way."

Cordelia shook her head in amazement, so Buffy had really been trying to be nice. Maybe if she'd listened to the Slayer, all this could have been avoided. Right. Sure. And right after she could go buy the Brooklyn Bridge from that nice man who asked only a hundred dollars for it. "Alright, if you're sure that's not a problem, how about that shower then?"

"You want to share the shower?" Dawn asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, why? What's the problem?"

"Are you sure this isn't an attempt by someone older than dirt to seduce a young good looking girl?"

What? Cordelia's first reaction was one of bewilderment, but it wasn't long before she understood the joke. "Oh, ha ha. Just because some beings of advanced age like to seduce young girls called Summers doesn't mean I'm one of them. For one, despite being older than dirt, I don't go for girls. I'm quite happy focusing on one half of the human population."

"That's what I thought," Dawn answered, an answer so obscure that Cordelia had no idea whether the girl was relieved or disappointed. Not that it really mattered. "Anyway, once we've cleaned up we have to come up with a plan. There're the bodies to deal with, as well as the next attack."

The bodies. She hated to think about them. One of the things she would need to do fairly soon was to inform Patricia and Anthony's families of what had happened. But that would have to wait until after this situation was dealt with. She didn't want to have to repay any of her other servants' families for the loyalty they had had to her for these past centuries.

No, she thought while following Dawn upstairs while hoping she'd soon get rid of the chafing crusted blood that was bothering her with every step she took. She wouldn't do that, but there might be something else she could do.

"We should call my teacher. She'll know what to do."

"Your teacher?" Dawn asked while looking over her shoulder.

"Yeah, the woman who taught me about Immortality and stuff. Amanda's lived for over a thousand years, she'll know what to do."


Allen Pitt: Thank you for your comments. Nope, she won't get any super powers. Buffy and the others will find out, I already know in which story that will happen, but it won't happen quite like you'd expect it to. The Wish will definitely happen. It is actually one of the stories I'm most looking forward to writing. The only problem with that is that so much has to happen before that. As for Glory... well it will take a while before she shows up in this timeline. And as for age, that's one of the reasons for having Things that Matter and its sequels around. Age is one of those other things I won't mess with, except during her dreams. Oh, and eh. That Band Candy thing? I think Dark, Darker, … prevented that from happening.

Bob-from-Accounting: Thank you for your comments as well. I'm glad you like my cliffhangers, and curse them as well. It means that they do what they're supposed to do. That was a pretty loaded question though, and I can't really answer too much of it without giving things away that I really shouldn't. Anyway, there are several things that happen in this story that are important. One of which should only become obvious in the final chapter. Well, during the last part of that chapter actually. :-)