Okay, this one was hard to write. Seriously, very hard to write, so apologies for the delay in getting it out. I've never really written much angst before and it was hard. Right, a couple of housekeeping issues... I've got a little list... all of you who have made guesses as to the identity of Xander's two Padawans have been 100% wrong. Go to the back of the class. I have put in two hints in past chapters as to the identity of one of them, but I fear I might have said too much already. The other one came as just as much a surprise to me as it will (I hope) be to you. Moving on, I will, I promise, eventually rejig Chapter One. Real life is being a bit of a bugger at the moment, but I am working on it. And finally, didn't anyone pick up the reference to a certain British comedy programme with a certain priest in it? (And I don't mean Don Camillo. Ghostrider gets a gold star and a Jedi Xander e-plushie for spotting that one.) Please enjoy and of course push that little review button!


The plants in her room had been carefully watered and had even grown, she thought guiltily. Mom had even dusted their leaves, something that she had never been too hot on. She looked around the room and then walked back to the bed, where her bag was lying. It contained just one thing. She pulled out Mr Gordo and placed him carefully back on his place of honour. Then she tweaked him slightly to the right. He looked a bit squished, but that was just from being jammed in a bag for three hours.

Sitting back down on the bed she looked around. It was all a bit freaky, being home. The familiar and yet unfamiliar feel of the bed after not sleeping in it for so long. The shadows on the ceiling from the sun outside as it went down. The smell of the room itself. For one thing, it smelt a lot fresher, as it her mother had vacuumed it every day. Knowing Mom, she probably had as well.

Yes, it all was a bit freaky. She had the odd feeling that nothing really fit any more, that everything was, like Mr Gordo, a little out of place. Looking over to the table next to the bed she reached out and picked up her diary. That didn't fit either. It was all cheerful and covered in doodles on the inside cover. Lots of 'B&A4EVR' along with variations on that line. Not that she's written anything in it since that day. She leafed through the pages slowly and then put it back on the table.

As for Mom... she had been so happy to see Mom and Mom had been so happy to see her and yet... and yet... it was hard to be home. She had been on her own for three months, only really talking to people at work and to be back home, having real conversations and real home-inspired things to do... it was all so hard. What had happened to her? Why did she feel that way? When had Mom become hard to talk to? She sighed and stood up. She'd seen Mom and now she had people to see. Wincing she thought of Willow. And Xander. And Oz. And Giles.

Oh god, Giles... The last time she'd seen her Watcher she was fighting for her life with Angelus and he was being carried off, all bleeding and groggy, by Xander. She'd tried to write a letter to him in Los Angeles, she really had, but after half an hour of staring at a blank piece of paper she'd given up. There was so much in her head and no way to put it down. She'd almost burst into tears there and then, but she'd dammed everything back in her head and had gone to work instead.

What would her friends be like? Would it be as hard to get along with them as it was so far with Mom? She'd only been home a matter of hours. Would it take time? Buffy sighed again and walked out of the room. Mom had made a 'snack' that sounded more like a banquet. After that? Time to go see everyone.

Xander was staring at the opposite wall of the library when Giles came in, clutching a mound of books that needed rebinding, having been dropped, torn, shaken, thrown and, unless he was very much mistaken, trodden on. Americans, he thought bitterly, why must they do such terrible things to their books?

Then he caught sight of Xander and paused. "Is everything alright, Xander?" he called, putting the abused books down and walking over to the young pseudo-Jedi, whose eyes were unfocussed.

He looked around back and Giles and then grimaced. "Yes and no, Giles, yes and no. I'm getting some weird readings on my Slayer-scope. I don't think that we have a very happy little Slayer here."

Giles pulled a face. The moment that Xander had told him that Buffy was returning to Sunnydale he had had to resist the urge to rush straight to her home and hug her. That would have brought up a number of awkward little problems however, like explaining how he had known that she was back, which could be a bit... tricky.

"Why do I feel like we're treading on eggshells at the moment, Giles?" said Xander wearily.

"That's, that's quite a good analogy. God only knows what she's been through since she deactivated Acathla by using Angel's blood. I strongly suspect that she is still coming to terms with the entire thing. I do wish she hadn't run away, although I do understand how easy it is to give in to that impulse."

Xander looked at him sharply. Now it was the turn of the Watcher to have unfocussed eyes and a troubled expression, and Xander was obviously wondering, not for the first time, what demons of his own the Watcher had, hidden in his past.

Shaking his head slightly Giles came out of his brown study and looked back at Xander apologetically. "Yes, well. We must be careful. Getting to talk about her recent experiences might be a way forwards. And," off came the glasses again for another polish, "Your abilities when it comes to sensing Buffy might prove invaluable. Which brings me to my next point. I don't think that we should tell Buffy about your... abilities just yet. Once I have a better understanding of the way that she's adjusting to being home, we'll tell her then."

Seeing the face that Xander was pulling, Giles replaced his glasses. "Xander, I know that as a friend you don't like keeping things from Buffy. Lord knows that, as her Watcher, I don't like keeping things from her as well. But with what you've been up to – and I highly commend your actions in that hell dimension – and the fact that Willow has been looking into the world of magic, means that the Sunnydale she has come back to is not the one that she left. We need to proceed with, with great caution."

"Okay," sighed Xander, "A big check on the whole caution thingy. I'll accidentally, on-purpose, 'run into' Buffy. Do you want me to bring her here?"

"No," replied Giles with controlled anger in his voice. "She is banned from school property thanks to that odious little homunculus, Snyder. That's something else we need to work on. I'm going to have a word with Joyce Summers about getting Buffy back into school. I don't know what it is that he has against her, but his actions speak of a deep vindictiveness, covered by petty malice."

"Whoa, Giles, enough with the Ripper vibes!" exclaimed Xander. "By the way, I need to take a look in the cupboard of demony destruction for a new weapon some time soon. I miss old Aquila and I'm sorry that your cousin's sword is now in that hell dimension."

The Watcher smiled. "I'm sure that he would have been very proud of the use to which you put it. He created it to fight evil and your actions over the past few months have justified my giving it to you. Now you'd better go and find Buffy."


Mr Pointy could be hidden up a sleeve, perfect for some surprise slayage. Birdy, the name she'd thought up for the sword she'd found in the hell dimension because of the little eagley thing on the hilt, was a little more obvious, thought Buffy as she hovered over the two. Well, for her first night back, and possible Bronze action ahead of her, surprise was good. Mr Pointy went up her sleeve and Birdy went under the bed. She liked the sword; it had excellent balance and was wicked sharp. She just couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen it before. Something to do with the library... or was it the factory? Shrugging she walked out of her room and into her mothers' bedroom.

Mom was about to hammer a nail into a wall and jumped rather sharply at Buffy's "Hey." The hammer came down on the wall, not on the nail, and left a nasty hole in the plaster.

"Buffy, you startled me," she said, and then went back to knocking the nail into the wall.

"I thought I'd slip out and say hi to Willow," she said and then frowned at the mask that Mom was hanging on the nail.

"It's a piece of tribal art – a mask from Nigeria. Isn't it amazing? There's no space at the gallery just yet for it, so I'm hanging it here for a little while."

"It looks... very masky. Kinda fangy too. I won't be too long, I have to find Willow first."

"Do you need some food? I mean, will you be slaying?"

Slightly freaked out by the question, Buffy smiled. "I haven't recovered yet from the four-course snack you fed me earlier, Mom, and the slaying depends on the local's being uppity. I'll be okay."

Okay... she wasn't so sure as she left the house. The fact that Mom would be asking her slayer-related questions was a bit freaky. Being asked if she wanted sandwiches to munch between dusting vampires was also a little odd.

She wandered down the street and looked at the horizon. The sun was setting. Almost time for the locals to start getting frisky. Speaking of which, was someone under that tree ahead of her?

Then the figure moved out from the shadow. "Hey Buffster," said Xander, his face quirking into that familiar smile. "Long time no speak."

"Xander!" she exclaimed and the next thing she knew she was being hugged by him. Xander seemed to have done a lot of working out over the summer – he had muscles in places where before he'd had not a lot of anything. Something else seemed to have happened to him, as he then stepped back and looked at her very seriously. "How are you?" he asked, and she had the oddest feeling that he was very worried about her.

"Hey, you know me," she joked. Why had Xander been standing there? It was as if he had known that she would coming... nah. Xander was Xander. She paused. There was a silver crucifix on a chain around his neck. Okay, that was new.

"I caught sight of you a little while ago," he said, "But I thought that you'd want a little personal time with your mom. Willow and Oz are at the Bronze, we can pop in and say hi before you see Giles. So, where'd ya go over the summer? Giles must have bankrupted the Watcher's Council with trips and phone calls to find you. But, you're back now, right?" He seemed... odd. Very calm, as they walked down the road.

"We worked out what had happened. I mean about Angel and Acathla. I never had the chance to tell you that Willow was working on the spell to restore his soul. She thought that it worked and then after that... well, we found the blood on the floor in front of Acathla and it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to put two and two together. I'm sorry Buffy. Really, I am. It must have been very hard."

She smiled a very small smile. Tears were very close now, she was having trouble keeping her composure. The memories of that day never really faded, they were always there, pulsing in the back of her head. The day she'd sent Angel to hell.

"It... just happened," she said eventually, after they had been walking in silence. "Save the world. Part of the Slayer's mission, 'kay? But yes... it was hard."


Finding Willow and Oz at the Bronze was easy. Keeping the conversation going after that was not. Xander had had to draw on all his skills for useless chatter in an effort to fill in the silences that kept appearing and sucking all the life out of the atmosphere. The fact was that everyone was feeling awkward around Buffy. This was understandable but also extremely worrying. The sense of... oddness, of unfamiliarity, that Buffy was projecting in the force was starting to concern him. It was just the fact that she felt awkward herself. Willow was also not herself – he kept picking up flashes of anger at something that he didn't understand. And Oz, well, he had never been Mr Talkative. Mr Monosyllabic would be a better description.

And so, as they progressed towards Giles's apartment, he had taken it on himself to blather. Not inane blather, but little things to try and make people talk more. The weather (God, was he turning into Giles?), the fact that Sunnydale's baseball team had actually won a game, where Oz and the Dingoes would be playing next ("Oh, around," had been Oz's less than helpful comment) and the fact that Willow's mom had seen President Clinton when she had flown to San Francisco on a business trip.

By the time that they reached Giles's place Xander felt like that guy from the old Greek legend who was doomed to roll a boulder up a hill for all eternity. Fortunately Giles had more than made up for this. Having administered his own hug on the Slayer, he had then bustled around arranging tea, biscuits and unless Xander had misheard him, something called crumpets. When he left to enter the kitchen, still calling out comments and having sparked off something of a conversation between the others, Xander followed him. He found the Watcher leaning against an overhead cupboard, his glasses in his hand and a look of deep relief on his face. In fact, he looked the closest he'd ever been to tears.

"Are you okay, Giles?" he asked. Giles started slightly and replaced his spectacles.

"Xander. Ah... yes. It's just... well, the reality of seeing her again caught me somewhat unawares. I know that you said that she was home, but seeing her in the flesh as it were was... a little more emotional than I thought. How, how is she?" he asked, pulling out a tray and then filling the kettle.

"Not good. I think she hasn't worked things through just yet. It might be the old 'lets repress the bad memories' tendency kicking in."

"Where are those bloody crumpets again? Oh. Yes... has, has she discussed the events of that night?"

"Not in any great detail. She only arrived today though."

"Right. That's unfortunate. China or Darjeeling? Oh who cares, you Yanks poured the good stuff into Boston Harbour. I think that we need to get her to open up a little. Talk about what happened. I never liked that variety of tea, can you throw it in the bin? Thank you. The more she talks about what happened, the more she might be able to take the edge off the pain of loss. Ah, the kettle's boiled. Can you pass the teapot? Yes, that one. Thank you. I'm a Watcher though, not a psychiatrist, so we need to be careful about this. Good god, I thought I'd lost those sugar tongs." The Watcher turned around, holding a tray full of tea, the mysterious crumpets and other stuff. "Right, tea's up."


Buffy had mixed feelings by the time she got home. To her unsurprise Mom was still up. Giles and Xander had done their best to make her feel at home, and to make her smile come to that. Something had been odd about Xander though, she just couldn't put her finger on it. Oz had been Oz and Willow... there had been a wiggy feeling of distance between them. Oh, she'd been fine but... there had been something there, the sense of words left unsaid. But she felt a bit better about being home. And she and Wills had agreed to meet for a talk and maybe some shopping in town the next day.

Getting ready for bed, knowing with guilty pleasure that while the others would have school the next day, she would not, she paused and looked at her reflection in the mirror. It had been a weird few days. Shrugging, she went to bed.

She never could tell when the dreams became the Slayer dreams. Her first dream was something about a yellow sweater and a talking bear, but that was just her subconscious wigging her out. No, the moment that she found herself walking through the corridors of the High School with all the clarity and self-awareness that characterised a Slayer dream, she knew that this one would probably be all full of portents. Lucky her.

She was also unsurprised when Angel walked into view. He had been in her dreams for months now. Guilt, she supposed.

"You've come a long way," he said, placing the tips of his fingers together.

"I didn't have any choice," she replied. They were walking along the corridors leading to the open square in the middle of the school, the sunlight very bright in front of them. Angel stepped into the light and looked at her. "The world needs its heroes. Balance is everything though. And the other side tends to cheat. You know that."

She looked at him. This was a little clearer than some of her other Slayer dreams. Still odd though. "Evil does cheat a lot," she agreed. "Not the most original point."

Angel smiled. "You have help." He nodded to the fountain. Turning to follow his gaze Buffy saw a figure standing next to the fountain. It was cloaked and cowled. It was also totally unmoving.

"He is there to help. And fight. Some battles, you'll need him. Others, he'll fight without you knowing. But it's all part of the war."

"Who is he?" asked Buffy curiously as they walked up to the figure. As she approached she realised that the cloak and cowl was in fact a brown robe with a hood that left the figure's face deep in shadow. Its arms were folded, with its hands tucked up its sleeves. There was something terribly familiar about it.

"Who is he?" she repeated.

Angel smiled again. "Someone new and old at the same time. Someone who has changed the board already. Someone who has fought beside you. And will fight with you again."

She turned back to the figure and tried a second time to peer into the shadows under the hood but she couldn't make out any details of the figure's face. Whoever it was, he, she or it was taller than she was, which came as no surprise. When she turned back to Angel he had vanished. At which point she had woken up. Naturally.

She stared at the ceiling. "Okay, that was wiggy," she muttered. A mysterious cowled figure. Like those weren't a dime a dozen on the Hellmouth. She pondered it a bit more and then turned over to get back to sleep again. Sleep was one way to get through the time. And dreaming about Angel once meant that the rest of her dreams might be less painful. Whatever.


Xander soldered a small connection more firmly to the backup relay and stepped back to admire his handiwork. It was coming together, it really was. Slowly but surely he was assembling the parts for the power cell he needed. Part two of his insanely ambitious plan to build his own lightsabre.

After his little foray into the hell dimension to help Buffy, he had picked up the facetted sapphire from Thorne, who had muttered that it had been a challenging assignment. It was perfect, the gem had all the correct angles for use in a lightsabre and it was now carefully wrapped in tissue paper and hidden in his room.

Building a power cell was the next part and he had made a start on that in the desert. However Uncle Will's place had lacked a large chunk of the things he needed to complete it. Hell, the high school lacked most of the parts, but he had been able to improvise here and there. It was about half done. He was following the plan in the book carefully, one step at a time. He didn't want to make a mistake and, oh, say, turn the room into a smoking crater the first time it was powered up. That was another issue; this thing would take a lot of power to charge up for the first time. After that it would recharge itself using a feedback loop, but the initial charge-up would take time. If he ever finished it.

Sensing Mr Oblonski approaching with the force, Xander pulled out the circuit board he was supposed to be working on and slipped the evolving power cell to one side and into a handy box. The circuit board was almost completed. It had been assembled in record time with the help of the force earlier on at the start of the lesson and only needed a few tweaks.

"Good, Xander, very good. You're ahead of the others," approved Mr Oblonski, and then passed on to the next desk, where Jonathan Levinson was making a complete hash of his board. If it was ever turned on, thought Xander, it would either melt, spontaneously combust or pick up Radio Moscow.

He turned back to his own board, completed soldering the connections and then looked up as the bell rang for the end of class. Cool. Break ahead, along with a trip to the library to see Giles. He had picked up a strange vibe that morning with the force and he wanted to check it out. It seemed to be coming from the general direction of the Slayer, and that was worrying. Putting everything away, submitting his completed circuit board to Mr Oblonski and palming his power cell, Xander ambled down the hallway. He would have preferred to stride, but he had to continue to project his essential Xander-ness, as opposed to his new Jedi-ness.

He was also a bit worried about Willow. Earlier that day they had met in the library where Giles had told them that Joyce Summers wanted to have a dinner party for Buffy that night. It sounded like a good idea to Xander, the chance to do a little Slayer-inspired bonding. Willow had wanted to expand it a little, by inviting more people and getting the Dingoes to play.

He had shot the plan for the expanded party down at once. "Willow, Buffy was in a hell dimension two days ago," he had pointed out. "She's having her own trouble adjusting to the fact that she's back and the last thing she needs is to have a shindig thrown for her when all she wants is to reconnect with the world."

Willow's response had been that maybe the Slayer needed a party, maybe it would help her a little, to which Xander had responded by saying that no, this was a very bad idea. Giles had backed him up and the original plan of a small dinner was back on. Willow had sulked a little. She was emitting odd vibes when it came to Buffy.

Speaking of Willow, he could see her up ahead, in front of her locker. This was bad. Wasn't she supposed to be meeting Buffy around now? Walking up to her he tapped her on the shoulder and she span around.

"Wills, aren't you supposed to be in the horror of full shop-mode with Buffy at the moment?" he asked. To his surprise Willow actually blushed.

"I... I kinda got sidetracked doing some work, and then I had to see Giles, and then Oz and I made arrangements for some extra-curricular smoochies and... I kinda lost track of time. She'll understand."

"I'm sure she would if these were normal times, Wills, but they ain't. It's not like you to pass up a chance to get into shopping. What gives? And did you get word to Buffy?"

The deepening blush told him the answer to the last part. And her muttered reply that it was awkward to be around Buffy a little right now caused him to frown. Looking around he dragged her into an empty classroom, where he closed the door, folded his arms and stared at her.

"Xander, you're not going to do the Jedi mind trick on me, are you?" she asked in a very small voice.

"No, Willow, I am not. It's only to be used in emergencies and preferably on someone evil. And you are not evil but this is an emergency of its own kind. What's up with you and Buffy?"

Willow pouted slightly. "She left us, Xander. It was a hard summer. She left us and we had to deal with everything, like cleaning up in the factory, and boarding Acathla up and Giles dumping him off the coast in that lead box, and then there's that whole mini-demon colony in the basement of Mrs Anders thing, which we had to deal with, and you were off in the desert dealing with your own things and... she left us. I was her best friend and I have stuff going on now that I can only tell her and... she wasn't here. I sound really pathetic, don't I?" she concluded in a miniscule voice and inspecting her shoes with great attention to detail.

"No," sighed Xander. "Just very human. Willow, she left because she was running away from what had happened, and I suspect that she wasn't even able to do that very well. She stabbed the re-souled love of her life through the chest to save the world. Naturally that would hurt a little. She needs time. And I suspect shoes. So, off you go. Go talk to her, Willow. Get your best friend back."

Giving him a rather teary smile Willow departed. Shaking his head Xander walked off to the library. There he discovered Oz and Giles bending over a cage in which a very smelly and unkempt cat was prowling restlessly. The moment Xander laid eyes on it he stopped dead. He felt no life from it. It was a hole in the force, like a vampire, but one with an odd vibe to it – like the one he'd picked up earlier that day. He paced over to it.

"That thing is dead," he said softly, squatting down to look closely at it. It smelt truly terrible. "It doesn't exist in the force, but there's something there."

Giles looked up in some surprise. "Can you feel something from it Xander?"

"Yes. Odd vibe. Same vibe as I've been picking up coming from Buffy's general direction." He paused and reorientated himself. Hang on, Buffy was shopping and she was over there in the force, to the west. The odd vibe was stationary to the north. Hum. It was coming from the general direction of the Summers house. "Where did this come from?"

Giles leant back from the cage in more than a little relief and started to clean his glasses yet again. "I had a phone call from Buffy this morning. She found a dead cat in the basement last night. She and Joyce buried it but this morning this thing had exhumed itself and was scratching on their back door. I picked it up earlier on."

"Giles, the weird vibe I'm getting off zombie cat here is the same one I'm picking up coming from the general direction of casa Slayer, as opposed to Buffy. Have they done anything Hellmouthy recently?"

"I don't believe so," said the Watcher with a shrug.

"Anything new?" asked Oz, watching the cat with a great deal of puzzlement.

"Not that I'm aware of," replied Giles replacing his glasses. "Although... Joyce does have a new decoration in the house. A mask, from Nigeria I believe. I was going to look it up later, but now I think we should do some research with a little more urgency."

Xander nodded. Research. Big surprise. But he felt less tired about that then he thought. Probably the Jedi thing kicking in he pondered as Giles reappeared from the stacks with a large pile of books.


Shoes had been looked at. Shoes had been debated. Shoes had been rigorously inspected. Some shoes had even been bought. And now Willow and Buffy were drinking coffee in a small cafe and a slightly less strained conversation had started.

"So there I was, standing in this room, with all these people shaking around me. Which was kind of freaky, because there were more than I rescued with my bunch of prisoners. They said that this mysterious dark-haired guy with all kinds of cool moves and a sword took down a whole bunch of demons and freed them. And there was another guy waiting next to the portal to help out. They said that they both left right after I arrived back in this world, but it was kinda odd," finished Buffy.

"Wow, that must have been all scary in another dimension," said Willow, her eyes very wide. She paused. "I'm glad you're home, Buffy. It was a bad summer without you. I had all this stuff going on, serious stuff, I mean serious dating stuff. And I had no-one to talk to."

Buffy looked at her friend sadly. "I know, Will. I'm so sorry. But it was all..." she struggled for words. "So... so hard. Too much to think about. I just wanted to run away and hide. That reminds me..." she delved into her handbag and pulled out a crumpled letter. "I wrote this to you. About as month ago. I just couldn't post it. I wish I had but..." she looked crumpled herself. "It was all too much," she finished weakly.

Looking down at the letter, Willow smiled. "Thanks. At least I had Giles to talk to. And Oz, obviously. And even your mom. I think she went to a book club or something to take her mind off you. I know that Giles said she was frantic with worry."

"Yeah," admitted Buffy. "I'm going to be big with the presents on her birthday, and next Mother's Day, and Christmas, and, well, pretty much the attentive daughter. When I'm not slaying that is. What did Xander do for the holiday?"

From the way that Willow's eyes froze, this was an uncertain subject. "Ah. Xander. Um, have you had a chance to talk to him yet?"

"Not apart from last night. Why?"

"Um. Xander went away. For the summer I mean. He came back the day before school started. He was taking care of his Uncle's place in the desert. Much desert-ness with Xander. Um."

Buffy looked at her friend. She was acting in a highly wiggy way. "Willow are you okay? It doesn't sound like Xander, spending a summer away from here."

"He had to go away. To train I mean. You need to talk to Xander." And then Willow had started on a rambling and not too coherent story about Oz and how he had almost fried the sound system on the Dingoes' first gig that summer due to wonky wiring.


The book slammed back onto the desk as Giles stood up and paced about the library, swearing in Latin, Sumerian, Akkadian and, unless Xander was very much mistaken, Welsh. He exchanged a knowing glance with Oz, who was closing the books in front of him.

Finally, when Giles had presumably exhausted his supply of curses, the Watcher slumped back into his chair. "Do you like my mask?" he said with savage sarcasm. "Isn't it pretty? It raises the dead, you know! Americans!"

"Hey Giles, enough with the colonial superiority riff," said Xander. "Although in this case I think you might be right. How the hell did this thing come to be in a consignment of goods for the gallery?"

"Heaven knows," said Giles glaring at the ceiling. "The Mask of Ovu Moboni is supposed to be guarded by a shaman near Lagos. I don't know how it came to be sold, but you can be bloody sure that I will make certain that Room 42 at the British Museum comes to hear of this. They'll put the biggest bloody rocket under the Nigerian department that you've ever seen in your life. And, given that this thing came via the museum at San Francisco, they'll also shake things up there. Well then," he said, sitting up and looking at the others. "Let's get going. It's almost 6pm now. As the first thing that the mask rejuvenated was the cat, that means that it hasn't reached its full power yet."

"How can you tell?" asked Oz, one eyebrow raised.

"Because it was at full power, the dead, I mean the human dead, would be converging on Buffy's house and even the police would be noticing if the morgues were emptying. We need to get there and, as we're lacking a Nigerian shaman who can suppress it, destroy the mask."


Xander swallowed as they drove through the streets of Sunnydale. If anyone saw him in this car, his street cred, such as it was, would descend though the floorboards. The Watcher drove... an antique. A slow antique.

He looked out of the window and forgot his petty worry about being seen. The closer they got to the mask, the more it resonated in his head. It stank of the dark side. More accurately it stank of death. Undeath too, the sort of mobile life without the breathing part. Yuck. He wondered why he hadn't picked up on it when he had been close to Buffy's house the previous night, but then he remembered Giles and his comment about the mask not being at full power. Yeuch.

Then he paused and stared out of the window. They were passing a cemetery and something was wobbling next to a gravestone. As they passed he saw a green hand push out of the earth, clutch wildly at the air and then fall down to move more earth away from the grave. "Giles, I think we need a little more speed from this thing."


The placemats were in position, the cutlery had been polished and the ravioli was bubbling nicely in the pot. Joyce Summers could also hear the sound of laughter and animated conversation from Buffy's room, where she and Willow were unpacking their things. For the first time in months it felt as if things were normal again. Joyce smiled and scrubbed away a tear. She hadn't even been able to dream that things would be like this again. Her daughter was home. Then she paused. Was that a car outside?


Giles pulled up and the three men piled outside. Twilight was gathering and already Xander could see at least one lurching figure on the horizon. People were bound to notice that. It was green for a start.

Turning away he joined Giles and Oz as they hurried up to the door and knocked sharply on it. It was opened by Joyce Summers, complete with an apron and a spoon in one hand.

"Mr Giles!" she exclaimed. "Hello Xander, Oz. You're early, I thought that we said 8 o'clock for dinner?"

"Joyce. Sorry. We need to see that mask you have. We think it's related to your reanimated cat," said Giles.

"Um, Giles?" said Xander, looking down the road. "We have company. Of the undead, green, walking variety."

"What?" said Joyce, and then squeaked as Giles picked her up and put her down in the hallway while Oz and Xander darted in and closed the door.

"Buffy!" Xander shouted. There was a confused noise upstairs and Buffy and Willow appeared on the stairs.

"What are you guys doing here so early?" asked the Slayer.

"Ah, Buffy, slight crisis. Your mother's new Nigerian mask is raising the dead, so we need to stop it," said Giles, looking around wildly. "Where is it?"

"And do you have any weapons?" added Xander.

Buffy didn't hesitate. Vanishing into her room she reappeared clutching a battleaxe and a sword, which, running down the stairs, she held out. "Here, take Edge and Birdy."

Xander reached out for the sword and then did a double take. Aquila! The sword was Aquila! Grinning, he let it swish through the air in a double loop and then came to the third offensive position. Cool. He looked up to see Buffy staring at him again.

"We so need to have that conversation about how you got to learn how to use the sword so well," she said in a bemused voice. Then she looked at Giles. "The mask's upstairs, Giles. I didn't bring it down because its eyes have gone all glowy and I thought that I'd consult first and hit it second."

"Yes, well, thank you Buffy," said her Watcher as he looked around at the window, "But I think that for once the correct course of action would have been in reverse order."

"Sorry?"

"Take the axe and hit it... wait a moment..." Giles was looking out of the window. A number of forms were gathering now in the gathering darkness, but there was something else out there. A car had stopped outside the house and a figure was getting out. "Damn, who's that?"

Joyce was also staring now. "Oh my. It's Pat, from the book club. She said that she might pop in and drop off a book I leant her."

Giles snorted. "Her timing is abysmal. And we should warn her."

"I'll go," said Xander. "Buffy, smash that mask as quickly as possible. Oz, Willow, Giles, you protect the house. Mrs Summers, please take cover." Summoning the force he opened the door and burst out. Behind him he heard a puzzled Buffy say: "Whoa, what happened to Xander?"

There were five zombies on the lawn. All looked like extras from a bad horror film, all pale and green skin, bloodstains and much lurchiness. They also all looked very bad tempered. There was also Pat. She was blond, middle-aged and rather puzzled, staring around at the zombies, which were doing the undead version of realising that a victim had come their way and were now making "uuuhhh" noises. For Xander it was like stepping into a cemetery in the force, all dead zones and yuckiness.

"Is this some kind of rehearsal for Halloween?" Pat said and then let out a startled screech when she saw the man holding a sword in front of her.

"Pat, get inside the house now," said Xander, looking at the zombies, who were eying him puzzledly and making louder "uuuhhh" noises. Then, moving as one, they all looked up at the house. Xander would have laid good odds that Buffy was approaching the mask. Then the zombies uttered a collective howl and charged.

"Pat, get inside the house!" shouted Xander, and gave the woman a shove from behind with the force. She screamed and hurtled past him, passing a zombie who stuck out one mottled hand and tried to grab her. Aquila flashed once and the zombie was left staring at a stump of a wrist. Then it stared at Xander again and made a moaning sound before it came at him. Another flash of the sword and its head was on the ground while its torso wandered blindly around the lawn and finally fell over a rose bush.

Another zombie came at Xander and he hacked its arm off before pinning in place with the force and catching yet another of the walking dead on it's hip. It must have been in the ground for a while, because it gave a little wail and fell over, reduced to one leg.

Xander was totally immersed in the force now, acting on a split second basis, identifying what was a threat to the house and what was not, leaping with the force to head off those zombies that were close to the house and then dealing with them. This was the essence of being a Jedi – the protection of the innocent – and he moved with the flow of the action. Two more zombies lost their heads and he cleaved another one in half. Pat had reached the house by now and had obviously been let in.

But more of the undead were arriving as he fought and as he looked up from the follow-up from one stroke the largest zombie he had seen so far lurched into view.

"Okay, big boy, let's dance," he breathed and threw himself at the zombie – which suddenly flashed and vanished, leading him to pull himself up with a jerk. The horrible feeling that had been coming from the mask had flashed in his head and gone. Buffy had smashed it with Edge. What a weird name for an axe. He looked around. The lawn and the path to the front door were mercifully free of severed body parts.

"Well, that was kinda anticlimactic," he said and thrust Aquila into the loop in his belt. How they were going to explain this away to Pat was going to be interesting. He might have to use the Jedi mind trick. Oh and then there was dinner. Yum. He wasn't that hungry after fighting those zombies, actually...


Learning not to fidget at a meeting was a gift that Lilah Morgan had picked up years before. Her job more than just required it, it was a vital tactic in the battle to stay ahead of the competition. Sarah Oropo – now she was a twitcher. Never quite still in her chair, the pen in her hand dipping every now and then. Nerves, poor dear. She wouldn't last. Same for William Kennedy. She could see the faintest hint of a muscle flutter in the corner of his eye. There it went again. Oh dear. Strong nerves were important. Hers for a start.

True, there were others who were potential threats. Lee Mercer for one. He looked like a stick insect, but he sat still in his chair, taking notes quietly. Never blinked much, which tended to put people off when he was talking.

A pen skittered across some paper and she looked over at the man opposite. Lindsey McDonald. Holland Manners' blue-eyed boy. Young, clever and possibly as ambitious as she was. He was half-reclined in his seat, his eyes on Harry Wolfit as the old fool whittered on about the negotiations for the Farmdale Case.

"-following which the other side caved and gave us a full settlement, plus another 20% for general costs. They've since bailed on the legal industry, but we still have the negatives. Total for the firm: $750,000," said Wolfit, concluding his briefing. Lilah blinked. He looked like an old fool, but the man was hard. Rumour had it that he come on in leaps and bounds after his family had been killed in that little 'accident'.

Manners nodded. "Good result, Harry, the Senior Partners have been informed. Well done." Wolfit nodded his head and sat back, his eyes hard but pleased.

"Moving on," said Manners, looking at the agenda, "We have some developments here in LA. Lindsey, what's the latest on the Shelter case?"

Swiveling in his seat Lindsey looked at Manners and put his pen down. He didn't even glance at his notes as he said: "According to our initial investigation all contact with their people has been shut off following the incident at the Shelter itself. The portal is sealed and nothing is getting in or out of it. We have therefore concentrated on the remaining witnesses on the scene and the security camera footage.

"We couldn't get much out of the men who were there – it seems that they had some sort of arrangement with our clients that involved magic. Once the portal was sealed the magic was cut off and they died of old age inside a day. However, the security camera was working and we managed to get this shot of the first... hostile person through the door, before it was damaged from having someone thrown against it. There were another two people, both male, Caucasian, but no idea as to their identities. However, as for the girl," Lindsey opened a folder and slid a picture of a short blonde girl towards Holland, who picked it up with a frown.

"We've been able to identify her as one Buffy Anne Summers, resident of Sunnydale. The current Slayer."

Holland leant back in his chair and smiled at the others. It was a smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. It was not one that reached his eyes. "Does anyone want to tell me," he said affably, "How the Slayer was in this city and we received no warning about her?" His gaze swept around the table. There was much studying of folders, but Lilah, Lindsey, Wolfit and Lee all met his gaze.

Quirking his mouth, Lindsey leant forwards. "I did some checking. Summers was a waitress in a small diner for some two months. Normally when a Slayer settles in a city there is a significant and rapid impact on the vampire population. Not so in this case. She seems to have blended into the woodwork, done nothing, killed nothing. Until the night of the incident. We didn't know she was here because she did not act like a Slayer. Apparently she arrived in the city shortly after the incident with the demon Acathla. It's possible that she might have been hurt in the process. She arrived back in Sunnydale yesterday.

"Our... arrangement with Mayor Wilkins means that we aren't really up to date with happens on the Hellmouth. I contacted him myself to request information about the Slayer. He said that he had passed on said information as per the arrangement. When I said that was the first that we had heard about it, he mentioned that he had phoned us on the day that she left Sunnydale and his jurisdiction. He said that he called Arnsdorf in communications. On the day that he... had his contract terminated."

There was a frigid silence. Lilah remembered the day that Arnsdorf had been sitting at that very desk. It had taken two days to get all the blood out of the carpet following his rather messy death for over-ambition.

"Ah," said Holland. "I guess that I should have waited for him to give his report after all. What a shame. What next?"

"We now own the lease on the building, as stipulated in clause 56, sub- paragraph 19, in the standard contract we had with them, all contact having been lost between their dimension and ours. It's in a bad area of the city, little commercial potential, maximum value being about $100,000. I thought that it might make sense to put it up to tender, maybe for the Tarkin contract, as I heard that they're looking for a new base of operations?" said Lindsey, looking up at Lee, who nodded.

"Sounds good, just what they're looking for," said the thin man.

Holland stared around the room and then nodded sharply. "Good. Do it." He shuffled his papers together and then made 'wait a second' motion with his hand. Lilah tensed, but did her best to show it. Here it came.

"Ah yes, one last thing. A contact of ours in the Vatican said that the Pope said Mass this morning. No surprise there. But with the Cross of the Trinity on the altar. Lilah. Care to explain this?"

Leaning forwards, Lilah started to talk for her life.