Many, many apologies for the delay in getting this up on here. First I had to put the magazine to bed, then I had a lot of Christmas parties to go to, then I had my heart trampled on by a girl I thought I knew and then I fell ill. Then came Christmas. What a combination. Anyway here it is, longer than the last one. Hope you all enjoy this belated Christmas present.


"I'll open the Richard Wilkins Memorial Retirement Home at 1 p.m. tomorrow, and then pop back here for a late lunch. Something light and low-calorie, have to keep the old arteries clear, don't we? Oh and I'll deal with the paperwork on that ritual dismemberment and the new sewer system at the same time." The Mayor looked up at Allan Finch with a bright and breezy smile as he handed back his schedule. "Oh and Allan, can you send Mr Trick in please? I have a little job for him."

Finch nodded quickly, picked up his folders, tapped them into order carefully and stood up to go. He had almost made it to the door when Wilkins cleared his throat and he winced slightly.

"Ah, Allan?"

Finch turned, smooth his face into polite curiosity. "Sir?"

Wilkins looked at him carefully. "You look a little peaky, you know. Are you keeping good hours? My old mother used to say that there was nothing that a good eight hours sleep couldn't cure. When was the last time you had a holiday?"

Oh god I need a holiday away from this place, thought Finch desperately, and then frowned slightly. "I'm, I'm fine sir. Been working on the new library project a bit recently. A lot of work still needs to be done." Yes, work on something that didn't involve murder, the occult or washing my hands every five minutes.

The Mayor stood up and strolled over to him to lay a hand on his shoulder. "You know, too much work and not enough play makes Jack a dull boy, Allan. You should take things a little more easy. Play some golf! Better still, baseball. That's a great sport, the sport that made America great."

"Yes, sir, I will. Be nice to relax a little."

The flashing grin came again. "That's my boy! Now off you go."

Finch made it to the door, pulled it open and managed not to shudder as he looked down the hallway. Walking down it he knocked carefully at Trick's office. You always did things carefully around Trick. He had a habit of staring at your jugular when he talked to you, as if assessing how many ounces of blood pulsed in your neck.

"Come," said a quiet voice, and Finch opened the door. Trick was at his desk in the darkened room, a small desk lamp providing the only illumination. The vampire looked up and a sardonic smile glittered. "Mr Finch."

"He'd like to see you. The Mayor I mean."

Trick stood up and the room seemed to darken further, even though he was nowhere near the light. "Always keen to help the Mayor."

Backing up quickly out of the door Finch watched as the vampire strode past him and up the corridor. Then he gave in to his need to shudder and made for his own office. When he got there he put the folders he'd been carrying onto the desk. For a moment he felt like putting his head on them as well and crying. It was all getting too much. The Mayor's plans for his Ascension were gathering pace. He didn't know all the details, but Wilkins was calling on Trick more and more often these days, and the death toll seemed to be rising steadily. Not that the police reports and newspapers told the real story. You just had to read between the lines in the obituaries and the rumours of odd happenings.

Shakily he sat down on his chair and stared out of the window. He'd been able to put enough together though. Enough to be desperately afraid. He'd grown up here, he loved this place even though it was on a Hellmouth. And if Wilkins ever achieved his wish... he went pale and wished that he was a million miles away.

He had to do something. He had to warn someone. And then he had to find a place that was beyond the Mayor's extremely long reach.


Mr Trick knocked politely at the door and then walked in. Wilkins was at his window, looking out at the street beyond through the shutters. It was dark outside and the room was now only lit by the Mayor's own desk light.

"The Deputy Mayor said that you wanted to see me, sir."

"Ah, Mr Trick! Good of you to come," said Wilkins, his face striped by the glow from the streetlights through the shutters. "I think that young Allan will have an accident soon if he isn't careful. He seems a little... stressed. A shame, his father was a good man with a ceremonial skinning knife and his grandfather was the best damn acolyte, not to mention poker player that I ever knew. I'll make up my mind later if the accident is to be permanent or not."

Wilkins turned and walked back to desk to sir down. "Mr Trick, as you know things will be coming to a head fairly soon. My dedication last night was thankfully free of any mishaps, but I think that that was more a matter of chance than anything else. I think that the time has come to deal with a few inconveniences that might prove to be potential problems."

"The Slayers and the Jedi," said Trick, taking care to keep the grin on his face an internal one. The chance to kill a Slayer... well, that would put him in the running for some real power. And if that maggot Finch had an accident at the same time, then all to the good. It would take planning though.

"Yes, indeed, Mr Trick." Wilkins frowned. "The arrival of the first Slayer was unfortunate. The second one looked flawed enough to perhaps turn, but she seems to have bonded with the others, worse luck. But the Jedi – well that was a bolt from the blue! Shame that he and that mysterious Sith couldn't have killed each other... well, that's the way the cookie crumbles, isn't it?

"No, too much is at stake now. I may be invulnerable now, but there are a few other things that need to happen to my Ascension certain 99 days from now. I'm going to move my schedule up to call in what I need ahead of time. The Books of Ascension for a start. I need you to set up a meeting with the demon who says that he can get his hands on them. You can kill him as soon as you get the books. And then I need you to carry out a mission."

As the Mayor talked, Trick smiled quietly. Apparently Slayer blood gave a vampire a buzz that lasted for days. He might have a chance to find out now.


It wasn't the best of cars, but it had got him there from Boston in quite a reasonable time, he thought as he pulled the handbrake on and put the car into neutral. And at least it was a manual. He hated driving those damn automatic gearshift cars. They weren't exactly rare in Britain, but most people there preferred manuals. He sighed at the memory of the Jaguar that his father owned for years. Now that was a very nice car indeed.

Looking out of the window at the darkened bulk of the school, Wesley pondered for a moment on what his Slayer would be like and smiled quietly. From her records she sounded quite lively. Well, it was his job to tame that liveliness and add a dash of caution and a soupcon of wisdom. Quentin Travers had given him a great opportunity and he intended to take it with both hands and run like the wind. He was sure that Mr Giles had done a perfectly adequate job under the circumstances, but now he was on the case, to use the local idiom. Right, he thought as he got out of the car and locked it with a flourish, time to kick bottom. Then he paused. His key seemed to have snapped off in the lock. Damn.

As he walked up the darkened hallway he could hear the distinctive sound of swords clashing. Yes, it sounded like Toledo steel making contact with some form of Sheffield steel. Interesting. Reaching the doors he looked through the round window. A middle-aged man was holding a sword with a training crossguard and talking to a dark-haired girl, who was listening intently. Obviously Miss Morgan and Mr Giles. He paused. The two had started to fence, slowly at first, and then more quickly, the sound of the blades meeting coming clearly through the air. And they were using a familiar set of stances, albeit with the occasional nuance that he couldn't identify. How very irregular. Wesley straightened his tie carefully and walked in.


"Good Faith, very good," said Giles as he looked the younger Slayer, "But you need to move your feet a little more. Swordfighting is all about balance and control. You can't just hammer away at the opposition."

Faith winced slightly and her eyes flickered over to her original practice sword, which still had that 45-degree angle in it from the week before when she'd gone into a slightly berserk frenzy on a practice dummy, three feet of railing and a concrete post. She'd rather reminded him of the drummer from the Muppet Show, something that he'd made a note never to tell her if he wanted to live.

He smiled at her and eventually she huffed some of the hair away from her face and smiled sheepishly back at him. "Giles, how come Buffy and Jedi Xander make this look so easy?"

"Well, Buffy and I trained intensively before her battle with Angelus last year. As for Xander... well, you know that I've never been able to explain where he got his knowledge from. And he trained with me again. But, but don't worry, you're picking this up far faster than Buffy did. You just need to focus a little more with your mind and a little less with your instincts. There are levels of being a Slayer, and the two of you will have different learning curves."

"Right, now try and block this," the Watcher said and then brought his sword up. Faith's sword met it and then he swiveled slightly and went into a classic attack that his father had taught him. The sword came up, along, broke contact with its opponent and then he inserted that move that he'd worked out with Xander, a curving half-block half-lunge that had her staggering back before she countered it with a sharp slash and lunge of her own.

"Hell Giles, sweet moves there!"

"Rather unorthodox, I'd say."

They both turned sharply at the sound of the new voice, to see a bespectacled man in his late 20's standing there. He was dressed in a Saville Row suit, had a fresh handkerchief tucked in his breast pocket and looked intolerably smug. Giles groaned internally. The newcomer just screamed novice Watcher. On the surface, anyway.

"Wesley Wyndham-Price," said the Englishman and this time Giles did groan out loud. "I beg your pardon, Mr Giles?"

"Nothing, just a bit of trapped wind," said Giles, which was a good way of describing the apparition of eagerness in front of him. Tom's description of the Watcher sent to collect Mrs Horrocks' things had been dead right: "English, looked like a pompous puppy with a bad smell under his nose, standard Watcher fresh from training and so wet behind the ears you could use him as a scrubbing brush."

He had a vague memory of meeting a ten-year old boy at Council Headquarters who had told him in a very penetrating voice that actually the Temple of Jupiter Stator did still exist in Rome, but was now under the tourist stand, which explained why the pencils there kept disappearing and the word 'whibble' was occasionally found written on the pavement of the Forum. Sad little git.

Wesley reached into an inside pocket and pulled out an envelope embossed with the Council's coat of arms. "My credentials, Mr Giles," he said, beaming at them. "Hello Miss Morgan. I'm your new Watcher."

Faith looked up and down at him and then looked at Giles imploringly. "Please tell me that this is one of those British jokes and that this is a guy you hired in LA. Or that it's Gwendolyn whatshername in a very good disguise."

Opening the letter and scanning the orders inside Giles sighed. "I fear not. He is, indeed, your new Watcher." He looked at Wesley carefully. "As long as you can prove that you are, indeed, Wesley Wyndham-Price. We had a minor incident with a former Watcher a few months back who also claimed to be Faith's new Watcher."

"Gwendolyn Post, yes I heard. Shocking business that. To have a Watcher lose sight of her true purpose in life, to turn to the dark ways and seek to do evil must have been-" Faith's sword was suddenly against the tip of his nose and he squeaked to a halt. "Rather scary?"

He slowly reached into his other inside pocket and pulled out a passport and a copy of his Watcher's Council identity card. Giles took them, checked for tampering and the right secret symbol against the picture on the latter and then told Faith to take the sword away.

The new Watcher straightened his tie, harrumphed a few times and then asked, in an acid tone that could have etched metal, why they were being so cautious.

So they showed him.


Wesley frowned as Mr Giles and his somewhat overzealous new Slayer escorted him into the library office. They seemed to be taking the security aspects of being a Slayer to rather an extreme. Then he paused. One side of the office, hidden under a blanket, was a large board. Mr Giles approached it and, tugging the cover off, gestured at the information displayed there.

"We are dealing with the ascension of the local town mayor into a demon, Wesley," he said with a little too much emphasis on the last word. "And as the Mayor, one Richard Wilkins, has been around for more than a hundred years, we're dealing with something rather unusual, to say the least."

Carefully pulling his glasses down onto the end of his nose, Wesley peered at the board. On the top left hand side was a picture of a man in the full suit, waistcoat and hat that was de rigueur for the end of the 19th Century. A number of other pictures were next to it, taken from different decades of the Twentieth Century. The suits changed but the man didn't. "Ah," said Wesley, mulling over the possibilities. "Perhaps a longevity spell or a follower of one of the more powerful demons that inhabit this world." He looked at the rest of the board, which was taken up with plans of Sunnydale, notes to do the position of the moon, possible prophecies and what looked like a list of mystical things that the Mayor might require. "But I fail to understand why you should be so worried. Surely Miss Morgan and Miss Summers have dealt with demons before."

"Yeah, and no," drawled the Slayer. "Yeah, we've put a lot of things with horns and stuff into the ground, no sweat, five by five. But we've been dealing with tinted ones apparently."

"Tinted ones?" he asked, baffled. "You mean colourful ones or something?"

Mr Giles coughed slightly. "Tainted, Faith, tainted demons. Ones which have small amounts of human blood and which are no longer pure demon."

Frowning, Wesley took off his glasses and polished them rapidly. "But surely all demons are pure by their own standards, so what would a pure demon look like? And can I ask where you got this information Mr Giles? I mean that I've never heard of any reference or research that refers to demons as being tainted?"

Mr Giles and Miss Morgan shared a glance. "Can't wait to see you explain this one, G-Man," she drawled. Then she stopped and looked over her shoulder out of the office. "Hey, B, patrol go okay?"

A short blond girl with a jaunty look peered in. She had a sword in one hand and a battleaxe in the other, both of which were stained with some kind of green ichor. When she caught sight of Wesley she froze.

"Relax, B, new Watcher. Wyndam Wesley-Pricetag."

"Wesley Wyndam-Price," he corrected firmly, putting his hand out. "Good evening Miss Summers."

She juggled the weapons briefly, managed to shake his hand without breaking too many of his fingers and then looked at Mr Giles meaningfully. "Did his little nametag thingie check out, Giles? I mean is he what he says he is?"

Slightly hurt by these repeated doubts about his authenticity, Wesley nodded. "I have been able to provide full details to prove my identity."

The older Slayer looked at him for a long moment, and then looked back over at Mr Giles, who nodded. "Okay," she said, "Has he had the Xander test yet?"

Xander test? It sounded like the At-Khal-Sandrus Test, by which a champion of the blood had to prove that he could stand mighty perils and perform famous deeds, but that was a bit archaic, wasn't it? Although according to Daniels' latest theory, citing a misplaced blob of ink over a dead spider in the original copy, the test was actually a way of getting rid of old pastries in Alexandria. Or was it perhaps the Xan-Tar-Isib-Derr'Lo test, whereby a hundred men had to ride across the Gobi Desert, fight to cross the River of Scorpions and then battle the fabled Doorman of the Seven Valleys for the right to take their shoes to the Celestial Cobbler. He wasn't sure about the last part of the translation for that one.

"Not yet," said a new voice, and Wesley saw that a tall young man with dark hair was standing in the doorway next to Miss Summers. He looked very calm and composed and he was fingering some sort of metal device that was clipped to his belt. He was also staring very hard at Wesley, before looking over at the others and nodding briefly. "He's clean. Not another Post in Watcher's clothing."

To Wesley's astonishment they seemed to accept this from whoever this chap was. And given the fact that he knew about Gwendolyn Post and Watchers, that must mean that he knew about the Slayers. He turned to Mr Giles, who smiled and held up a hand.

"Wesley, this is Xander Harris. Xander, this is Wesley Wyndham-Price, Faith's new Watcher. Yes, Wesley, Xander knows. You'll find that the Slayers here have a number of friends who know what they do and who assist.

"In fact, I think that you'll find that there's quite a lot about life on the Hellmouth that will surprise you."


It was large. It had horns. It had red eyes and fangs. It was also called Trevor, or to be more accurate, T'Rrevor, and it was looking at Mr Trick with a great deal of contempt. The feeling was mutual, but Trick smiled anyway.

He gestured at the noisy room, filled with about ten similar demons, 11 female demons who were of varying types but all of whom were wearing clothing that exposed far more than they hid, a band of some sort, a small bar and a lot of cigarette smoke. It looked like Russ Meyer's vision of hell, thought Trick. "It always amazes me," he drawled, "How single-minded you can be in your pursuit of low living."

The demon displayed more fangs in what might have been a smile. "It always disgusts me," he replied, "What you like to get up to with all that high living, Trick. But at least it gets you out of the way. Until today anyway. Whaddaya want?"

Trick bent to sit down, saw what was smeared on the chair, shuddered and instead went down onto his haunches besides Trevor. "Business."

"Well, yes, obviously. What kinda business? Make it quick, Hooty's arrived and she and I have some business of our own to take care of, if you know what I mean." Across the room a red-skinned demon batted her eyelashes at Trevor and displayed a lot of leg.

Trick sighed to himself. "I need your crew to help with a meeting I'm setting up. A meeting where the opposition is dangerous but killable. You get to kill and you get to be paid. Interested?"

A red eye swiveled to study the vampire thoughtfully while the other remained on Hooty and her chest of delights. "What's your definition of 'dangerous but killable', Trick?"

"At least one human. Maybe two. Good fighters, probably armed with swords and they know about the Hellmouth. A challenge. You want names?"

The eye returned to Hooty and her jiggling, which was starting to make Trick vaguely seasick. "No, we don't bother with names. Where, when and how much?"

Trick reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim envelope, which he handed over. With surprising delicacy for a creature with claws Trevor opened it and looked at the contents. Then his eyes widened. "Lot of money mentioned on this here paper."

He received an easy smile from the vampire. "My employer can be a very generous man. Plus he thinks that it might be a good idea if you and your people relocated after the meeting."

Trevor looked at him levelly and then nodded. "We're one short anyway. F'Varr vanished off to LA a few weeks back, the little maggot, saying that he had some business to do. But the rest of us ought be enough. Done." He stood up, strode across the room and slung the giggling Hooty over one shoulder while the rest of the room cheered. "Done!"

You damn well have been done, as the British say, thought Trick as he left the noisy house. The demons might make the difference between a live slayer and a dead one. If the meddling Jedi turned up, the more the merrier. He pulled out a handkerchief and brushed some flakes of matter from his sleeve. That place was, well, just unhygienic. He smiled. He had a lot to do, much to arrange. People to kill, too.


It was a shabby little place but it was all his more or less, thought Skyler. The landlord was going to get his heart ripped out one of these days if the amenities weren't kept up to scratch, but it was the place that the demon called home. He looked through the doorway carefully, checked that the hall was clear and then closed the door. For a split second he thought that he could smell cigarette smoke and sweat, but that was probably just a whiff of air from the room opposite. Oddly troubled he scratched at his goatee for a moment and then shrugged. In his line of business you got used to the odd attack of nerves. Paranoia had its place – it kept you alive if you listened to it carefully enough.

For the third time that afternoon he checked the bag containing the books and then stared at the phone. He could always ring them as well, he mused... see how high the bidding would go before he made a decision. Having a third option was always good and he stood to make a lot on this deal. Buying the books hadn't cost him much at all. It wasn't as if they were unique (there was another set in Tibet, guarded by some monks and at least two more sets in Latin America) and the old man he'd gotten them from had been teetering on the edge of senility anyway. However, they were the only set in the USA at the moment. Pausing he crossed over to look at the phone again. This time he reached out and picked up the receiver. "I wonder how much Wolfram & Hart would pay for them," he mused out loud. Someone suddenly hammered on the door and he put the phone down hurriedly and fingered the gun in his coat. Bullets were very reassuring things. Especially when he'd covered all the angles by having them dipped in holy water. Nasty place Sunnydale, you never know what you were dealing with.

"Who is it, who's there?"

"An emissary," said a low voice through the thin door. "Here to... negotiate."

Skyler frowned. They were early. Very early. He opened the door and pointed this out to the dark-skinned man in the snazzy suit who was standing there.

"The Mayor likes renegotiating things. A lot of things." And he patted the briefcase in his hand. Skyler brightened cautiously. The guy just oozed money.

"Of course," he smarmed, gesturing.

"Thank you," said the man as he walked into the flat and looked around, his nostrils flaring slightly.

"You'll have to excuse me, I wasn't expecting guests so soon," said Skyler, his attention on the briefcase.

"Do you have the books of Ascension?" asked the man with admirable bluntness.

"Of course I do, but do you have the money to buy them? The price has gone up a little since I last talked to your employer. The market, you see, never stays still. Supply and demand you know, it never stays still for long."

"A rise in price was anticipated. My employer likes to keep his options open. The Books are here then?"

"Of course. May I see the money?"

The man looked around and fixed his eyes on a spot above and to one side of Skyler, who frowned. This was not looking like normal negotiations. "Is he telling the truth?" asked the man menacingly into empty air. Something suddenly shimmered there, like a heat haze and suddenly Skyler found himself looking at a tall, red-eyed, horned thing, which was wearing a t-shirt that read: Judge Dredd for President. The thing looked at Trick, nodded and then drew one massive fist back.

"No!" squeaked Skyler, pulling his hands up in front of his face, but it was too late. He had the vague sensation of flying through the air to hit the wall. After that there was a lot of pain, culminating with a horrific stab of agony in his stomach. As everything started to go dark he heard a rumbling voice say: "That was far too easy. What a loser. No challenge to that. What about the others?"

"Patience, Trevor. Good things come to those who wait."

Then the shadows closed in.


Willow looked at the mound of books, glanced at the clock and sighed. 7 o'clock. It would have been so much easier if they had been scanned into the computer so that she could just call up a basic search programme and go through everything in the blink of an eye. However, after that bad, bad thing with the Demon Moloch two years ago, and the whole 'my boyfriend's a demon' situation that still embarrassed her, Giles had declared that any future scanning would take place "over my dead body", so that was out.

So that left the old-fashioned way, or Shanks' Eyeballs, as Giles called it. She grinned. He used language in a goofy way sometimes. The grin faded and she looked at forlornly at the books and then at Oz, who was next to her. He was staring at a book as it floated in the air towards him, before coming to rest on the table.

"That's so cool," she said enthusiastically. "I mean the whole 'use the Force, Luke' thing. You're so much better at it now."

"Practice," said Oz, smiling at her. "Two books, more difficult though. Three, and headache time." Then he sighed. "Be nice when we don't have to check over our shoulders."

Another pile of books arrived on the desk and Giles cleared his throat. "Yes, well," he said, "My reports to the Watcher's Council have been about Buffy and Faith. I chose not to mention the Jedi aspect of Sunnydale as I felt that the Council... um... might not have viewed it in quite the same light as the rest of us. Not that we need to keep Wesley in the dark for long – just long enough to sound him out about some of the more... unorthodox elements about living on the Hellmouth."

A snort ripped out from across the table. "Hell, Giles, the guy's a loser and I've only known him for two days! He tried to correct my staking stance last night and he told me that today he's going to get me back onto a more 'proper' swordfighting style for a Slayer. As if my old one wasn't already five by five!" Faith held her hands up in supplication and a note of pleading entered her voice. "Please don't tell me that I've got to listen to him! Can't I keep training with you and B on the side? C'mon, G-Man!"

Opening his mouth for a moment, Giles leant back in the pose that Willow recognised as his deep thought position and cleaned his glasses carefully. When he spoke it was very clearly and distinctly. "Faith, I am no longer your Watcher, so I cannot interfere. However, as your former Watcher I am allowed to offer you... advice and encouragement if your current Watcher is not around at the time. Should you feel it necessary to change your fighting style depending on your present company at the time, then obviously you should bear in mind who is around." He finished polishing, replaced his glasses and then looked at the ceiling. For the first time in her life Willow realised what the phrase 'butter wouldn't melt in his mouth' looked like. It was just like the Watcher.

There was a soft cough to the other side of Faith. "As a Jedi," said Xander, "I disapprove of lying. However, in this case it boils down to your holding a certain differing point of view from Wesley. So if you happened to bump into someone and asked for some help or advice... well, as long as you don't lie to Wesley about where you were..."

A number of evil grins appeared around the table.

"I had no idea that you guys could be so devious," said a smirking Buffy.

"I don't know what you mean, Buffy," said Giles with a straight face. "Now I suggest that we get on with looking up more details about this Box of Gavrok, which the Mayor might require. Until we have more up-to-date information from my contact about the Books of Ascension, there's little we can do."

This earned him another snort from Faith. "Still don't see why we don't go down to City Hall and vote him out of office the old-fashioned way."

Willow did her best not to roll her eyes. Faith could be a bit abrupt sometimes. Her attitude tended to be to hit it with a large pointy object if it moved and stamp on it when it didn't, although according to Buffy the dark-haired Slayer had mellowed a bit since she moved out of the sleazy motel where she'd been staying and into a flat paid for by the Watcher's Council. Originally Faith had said that the fact that vampires could enter hotels and motels meant that she got to practice her slayage skills quite often. However, she hadn't complained that much once Giles had shown her the flat. It was small but comfortable. It was now also, thanks to the Last Will and Testament of Mrs Horrocks, all hers.

Giles sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot these days. "Faith, as I have told you before, we lack information on exactly how Wilkins has stayed alive for so long. We don't know what he has done, we don't know which demons he's allied to and we don't know how much power he has. I refuse to send you or Buffy into harm's way without more information and a decent fighting chance. It would be like sending you into a fighting pit blindfolded until the last moment."

He paused as the phone went in his office. "Ah. This might be the information I've been expecting." He scurried into the office.

"Mean old Giles, leaving us to the books," pouted Willow.

"He's got more patience than I have," said Buffy. "Normally when I need the skinny on something I go and beat it out of Willy the Snitch, but he's out of town at the moment. Apparently his granny died, which is kinda odd, 'cause I thought that he sold her years ago."

"Cynic," said Xander and then stared at the door. "Company," he said. "Wesley."

"How can you tell it's Wesley," asked Buffy, puzzled, "when you've only known him for a couple of days."

"He gives off a squeaky feeling in the Force," came the reply, and then the doors opened and the new Watcher came in.


Wesley was rather surprised to find everyone looking at the door when he entered, but put it down to his natural presence and leadership skills.

"Ah good, everyone's here. I was able to find this Anya person and talk to her in private about what she knew. Wasn't easy as someone called Jonathan was hovering around her like a dizzy moth. She told him to go away abruptly, but at the same time she kept looking at where he'd got to with a very odd look in her eye. Is she entirely sane?"

"Wesley, she's a former demon who's gone from immortality and power to being a High School Student who's afraid that the local mayor is going to turn into a giant snake-like demon, would you be entirely sane?" asked Miss Summers. He had to concede that she had a point.

"Well, I've put a call in to the Council. Her description of where the Ascension that she witnessed took place rang a bell with me. I think that there's recently been an archaeological excavation in the area, but the details escape me for the moment. I think that it was briefly mentioned in the last issue History Today back home.

"If more information is available then we should get a better idea of what manner of creature we're dealing with."

"Big snake," the Slayers chorused.

"Yes, I know," said Wesley slightly crossly, "But we need to find out what kind of powers it will wield. And if it is 60 feet long, we need a strategy to deal with it."

"Kebab skewer?" suggested Miss Summers.

"Giant mongoose! Any spells for that?" said Faith.

"Biggest forked stick in the world?" from young Harris, who was frowning even as he quipped.

"Indian," said the fellow known as Oz, cryptically. Then he caught their looks. "Snake charmer," he explained and they all nodded.

"I rather think that you should take this matter more cheerfully," said Wesley, trying to remember his lessons on How To Exercise Leadership Skills. He sat down at the head of the table and clasped his hands. "This is a serious situation."

"Relax Wesley," said Alexander Harris. The frown was deeper now. "We are thinking about it. Even wondering about planning something." He scratched his ear thoughtfully, looked around the library as if he was assessing how large it was and then looked up at the doorway to Mr Giles's office. A moment later the older Watcher came through, polishing his glasses.

"What's the sitch, Giles?" asked Miss Summers irrevently.

Starting slightly the man put his glasses back on again and wandered over to the desk.

"That, ah, that was a rather interesting call. It turns out that my contact, Skyler, has the books and is willing to sell them to us, although he sounded rather odd. Said that he had a cold, but I've never known him suffer from any illnesses. And he was a tad... hazy... about payment. He just said to send money via someone reliable who could take care of themselves, as apparently the Mayor's men have been sniffing around, apparently also looking to buy the books.

"Which is, ah, somewhat, um, disturbing," said Mr Giles with what seemed to be masterful understatement to Wesley. A succession of groans filled the air in the library and most of the others looked rather shaken, apart from the Harris chap and the teenager with the odd name of Oz.

"Giles," said Ms Summers, "We can speak Watcherese by now, and we know that 'somewhat disturbing' means 'prepare to meet the next apocalypse.' So Mayor Wilkins knows that these ascension tomes are in town." She stopped dead and rolled her eyes. "I don't believe I just used the word 'Tome', I soooo have to watch my language and get you speaking Californian."

"Is that an actual language?" Wesley asked, frowning.

"Yeah, it is, or should be," said Faith and hefted the knife that she always carried on her person. "Why don't we just find this guy, pay him, do the demon equivalent of a staking if he tries to double-cross us and them shake it all out at the Bronze?"

Shake what out, thought Wesley, and a bronze what?

However, Mr Giles seemed to have drifted off into a brown study, staring at the wall with a frown on his face.

"Giles?" asked the Harris chap abruptly, "What's wrong?"

The Watcher started slightly and then looked at the others. "I'm not sure, but I have a bad feeling about this. It's too easy, too good to be true."

He stood up suddenly, taking Wesley aback. "Buffy, Faith, I want you two to make it to the rendezvous tonight, the junction of 4th and Morriseys at midnight. I'll make out a check to Skyler that you can give to him. Be careful, both of you, and go armed." Miss Summers squeaked something about using Birdy and Faith twirled that deadly looking knife around with a grin.

Giles continued: "Xander, Oz, I want you to take on patrolling tonight. Keep your eyes peeled for anything unusual, and take my cell phone. I've never been able to make the bloody thing work, but you should be able to use it. Use your..." his eyes flickered to Wesley for a second, "Special abilities to probe. Any hint of anything unusual and you call me. This might be... well I can't describe this feeling. I don't normally believe in sixth sense, but right now I think that it's worth listening to in this case. Willow, you find Cordelia, Amy and Anya and meet me back here.

"Move all of you!"

Everyone moved, with the exception of a rather stunned Wesley. He'd always thought of Mr Giles, based on his record, as a rather woolly chap, someone who was a wizard at research but rather less forceful when it came to practical situations, something that he himself had always excelled in when it came to tactical simulations.

"What, ah, should, should I do?" asked Wesley in a halting voice. Mr Giles turned a burning gaze onto him.

"Find a bloody sword, you twit," came the reply.


Patrolling was something that Xander used to find both stressful and boring, depending on what was going on. The stressful parts involved vampires trying to pull bits off you. The boring parts involved looking for said vampires and if they were fledglings that meant sitting by a new grave for hour after hour after hour.

Nowadays it was all much simpler thanks to the Force and the stress part hadn't bothered him for months. As for the boring bit, he just took a walk through his memories or practiced his skills or continued Oz's training. At the moment this last part consisted of watching as his Padawan walked along a railing that stretched for about a hundred yards without wobbling once and holding his sword in a force grip in front of him. This was a tricky exercise, involving splitting his concentration, but the werewolf – or should that be lapsed werewolf? – had mastered it well. Reaching the end of the railing he leapt in the air, tucked into a tight roll and landed on his feet with his sword in his hand.

"Good," said Xander approvingly. Oz had improved enormously over the past weeks, going from strength to strength. It wasn't the crash course that he had put himself through in the desert but given the fact that Xander himself had had a few missteps at the start of his desert ordeal, Oz had still come a long way very quickly. He wasn't a Jedi Knight yet by a long shot – there was still a lot to teach him and there was the issue of how to test his resistance to the Dark Side – but he was a few months away, perhaps less, from joining Xander as the second Jedi on the Hellmouth.

"We need to start working on multiple force holds now, two or three things at a time. The more you stretch yourself the more your control will include. You'll find that it gives you better spatial awareness, plus a better feeling on how different objects feel in the Force."

"Like what?" asked a fascinated Oz.

"Well, started Xander, and then he looked around. "Take that tree for instance. It's a living thing, so it has its own connection to the Force. It exists within the Force. Then look at that pebble in the flowerbed. It's not living, but it still has a presence in the Force, because it's still there, it's a part of the world as a whole so it has it's own link to the Force." He smiled. "Everything's connected. That's why when something good or bad or just plain strange happens, you can feel it in the Force. It lets off ripples."

Oz considered this and nodded sombrely. "Speaking of happening things, can you feel anything tonight? It's almost 11.30."

"I know, but nada so far," said Xander, looking at the lights of Sunnydale. They were passing through an area of the town that wasn't exactly luxurious, but which also offered quite good views of the town. And so far he could feel nothing, apart from a pair of rather cautious Slayers who were a few miles off to the West and starting to move north.

"Odd to have to be so careful because of Wesley," said Oz after a moment.

"He's new. Giles thinks that the Council doesn't need to know about the Force, at least not yet. I get the feeling that the average higher up on the Council isn't exactly Mr Fluffy, and given my memories of the Galactic Senate, which fought amongst itself like Bothans at a Clan Meeting, I'm not sure that I blame the G-Man. It's going to make life interesting, anyway," said Xander and then stopped dead.

"What is it?" asked Oz, looking around.

Xander tilted his head and then nodded at the bushes to one side of the road ahead of them. "Someone's over there," he whispered. "They're not human, I can feel that from the Force and they seem to be dying. Very weak, anyway."

Narrowing his eyes Oz stared hard in the right direction. There was someone there, a faint presence in the Force that pulsed with a strange energy – an energy that seemed to be ebbing away. No wonder he'd missed it, it was like trying to see a shadow on a moonlit night. Putting his hand under his coat and onto the hilt of his sword he almost looked around to see if anyone was nearby and then shook his head ruefully and used the Force. Just them and their mystery guest. Out came the sword and he looked at his trainer, who had his inactive lightsabre in his hand.

Xander pointed at Oz and then made a half-circle in the air with his finger to one side, before tapping his chest and making a similar gesture on the other side.

Nodding, Oz swung out to approach the bush, watching both it and Xander carefully. When they were both in position the Jedi Knight said: "Whoever's in there, you'd better move out really carefully or my friend and I will get testy."

For a moment there was a long silence and then suddenly the bush shook slightly and whatever was in gave a long, and very weak groan. Oz flicked an eyebrow at Xander, who frowned. Whatever it was, it seemed to be weakening by the second. Taking a deep breath Oz nodded at Xander and they both stepped up to the bush, parting the branches with their free hands, weapons ready to strike... against a bloodstained figure that raised a shaking hand slowly even as it struggled to look up. "Help..." it said in a voice that was little more than a sigh.

Carefully Xander pulled the figure out of the bush, which revealed the full extent of its injuries. It was a demon, with a small pair of horns on its head that almost matched the pointed ears beneath. It had a fringe of longish hair and a goatee that looked very unstylish.

The demon took a deep breath and then broke into a hacking cough that left dark red blood oozing down from the corner of his mouth. Then he slowly moved his head to look at them both. Nothing happened for a moment and then he caught sight of the lightsabre clipped to Xander's belt, reaching out with a last desperate reserve of strength to grab the Jedi's arm.

"You're... you're him... Harris I mean...you know... the Slayers... you're the... Jedi..." he wheezed.

"Yes, I am," said Xander quietly, motioning for Oz to put his sword away. "Why, what's on your mind?"

The demon reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out a slip of paper. "Mayor... wanted to buy... Books of Ascension... sent his killer.... Trick to meet me. Heh heh," he cackled, "Met me... yes... killed me... cheated me..." The eyes were increasingly glazed but something was keeping the dying demon going, something that drove him with a last reserve of strength as he pushed the paper into Xander's hand.

"You... can cheat him... back. Here. Here, take... it. Where the books... are. Where Trick is going... came to in time... heard him talking to the demon who got me... you can stop him... heh heh, cheat him back... cheat... him... back..." The demons' breath rattled briefly and then stopped, his head lolling to one side.

"This would be Skyler, I presume," said Oz. "Well, Giles said that he didn't sound well."

The Jedi was frowning however. "This is giving me an odd vibe. From the Force this guy's been dying for some time, at least nine or ten hours. So how come Giles talked to him just after seven this evening?" He looked at the body and then held up the bloodstained edge of the coat. "This has been dried for a long time, Oz." Then his attention turned to Skyler's arms. "God, this is simplistic, but it just might work... his watch, Oz, look at his watch."

The Padawan glanced at the wristwatch on the demon's arm and stopped dead. Behind the shattered glass on the front the arms could be seen stuck at 1:19 presumably pm. Then he looked at the ugly cylinder of wood sticking out of Skyler's stomach. "There's no way that this guy could have made that phone call, unless most of this happened afterwards," he said grimly.

"Trick," said Xander levelly, "That was the guy Kakistos had working for him. I thought that he'd left town in a hurry. I guess I was wrong." He opened up the piece of paper and glanced at it. Then he looked up at Oz. "Never doubt the G-Man, when he feels a tremor in the Force, know matter where it comes from, you listen. Trick's going to this rendezvous to meet Buffy and Faith, only I don't think that he's going to be carrying the Books of Ascension. It smells like an ambush. You hide Skyler while I try to get Giles's cell phone to work. Then we bug out to the rendezvous, fast as we can. Time for your next lesson – moving with the traffic."


Willow was balancing a pencil on the tip of her nose and trying to use magic to stabilise it. Unfortunately she was so tired that her concentration kept slipping. The soft noise of snoring from Amy to one side and Cordelia's sleep-ridden mutterings of "Not my credit card... urgh, not the gold Amex... no, bad scissors... bad..." weren't helping either.

When the phone rang therefore she sat bolt upright and blinked a lot. The pencil whizzed off and she heard a 'thunk' noise.

"Please be more careful, Willow," said Giles acerbically as he pulled the pencil out of the doorframe to his office and went to answer the phone.

"Hello?" she heard him say as she looked at the clock. 11:35. Early yet. Then her ears pricked up as she heard him say: "Ah Xander! Everything alright? What unlock keypad button? Well, it's working now. Yes. Yes. Um, balding, small horns, goatee... Oh dear. Dead? Ah. Very enterprising of you. Yes, fat chance of it having been him. Right. Yes, get there ASAP, we'll come as fast as we can."

The receiver banged down and Giles strode out of the office, grabbed his sword and pulled the sleeping Wesley upright with his free hand. "Trouble," said Giles in his Ripper Voice. "Skyler's dead, the Mayor probably already has the Book's and Buffy and Faith are walking into a trap. Xander and Oz will meet us there."

"I presume," said Wesley, slightly groggily, "That they have transport?"

Giles hesitated. "They have their own methods," he said enigmatically and then bundled everyone out of the door.


The traffic in Sunnydale tended to vary. Sometimes, on certain routes, such as the main one to LA, it could be fast, on others it could be non-existent. It also had a habit of ebbing and flowing, depending on the time of day. Many people in Sunnydale had realised that the muggers had a habit if stabbing people with forks a lot, which might explain the odd wounds that some people had.

Xander therefore knew that the big 16-wheeler that he and Oz were riding on the back of was quite a good stroke of luck. It was going in the right direction, it was treating the speed limit as more of a guideline than the rule and it wasn't being driven by someone who had last slept somewhere around Memphis.

The fact that Oz had one eyebrow raised meant that he was finding the whole experience deeply cool, in a quiet sort of way.

"Only to be tried at night and when you're in one hell of a hurry," he shouted over his shoulder at his Padawan, who nodded in understanding. Then he looked over at the turning coming up. "Okay, here's our stop. Force jump off, once round the streetlight, hit the ground running and follow me." He waited carefully for the right moment, leapt, grabbed the nearest streetlight with his hand and one foot and spiraled down it to bleed off his momentum, glancing up to confirm that Oz was following. When he hit the ground he took off down the road. He was pleased – his Padawan had coped with it all better than he had hoped. He might be closer to Jedi Knight status than he had thought.

As they ran he reached out with his senses... and then he ran faster.

The junction was dark as they approached, now down to a slow pace in from one side. It looked quiet. It wasn't. Pausing, Xander gestured with one hand to stop and Oz went down onto one knee. Fortunately on the north side of Morriseys there was a small park and they were able to use the bushes to hide behind.

"Well, there's Trick," breathed Xander, looking into the deep pool of shadow off to one side of the junction. The vampire stood out like a sore thumb in the Force, the feeling projected by his demon quite obvious. There were two problems however, and both were in a sense out of sight. The first were easy to spot, off to one side of Trick.

"Yuck," whispered Oz next to him, "That's a lot of vampires."

"Yup," he replied. "About 25, maybe 30. That's not what's worrying me though. Feel out with the Force to the junction. The lighted section."

Oz frowned and stared for a long minute.

"Close your eyes if you need to," urged Xander. "Feel those shapes in the Force? There's something there. Something we can't see."

His Padawan paused and then pointed slowly. "I can feel them, just. What are they?"

"I don't know, but if we can just about feel them, then there's no way that Buffy and Faith will be able to even sense them, unless their Slayer-senses are turned up real high." He looked off to one side, feeling with the Force. "And they're close."

"Warn them off?"

"No time. All I can do is get into position to act as an ace in the hole. Stay here, come running when things get going in a bit. I'll deal with our invisible friends, you help the Slayers when the fang-faces get lively. If we can hit them from different directions that we might be able to get the initiative."

"Yes General Kenobi," whispered Oz with a smile and moved slowly over to stand behind a tree.

Xander grinned and moved backwards a few paces before going off slowly to one side, watching Trick carefully and holding his inactivated lightsabre in one hand. Whatever the hell was standing in the middle of the junction they were all looking off to one side down 14th Street, which probably meant that they could see the Slayers who were fast approaching.


Buffy heard Faith sniff the air a few times as they walked down the road, which was a bad thing. Very bad. She tightened her grip on Birdy slightly and made yet another mental note to call it by the name that Xander had given it, Aquila. Kinda the same thing, but it meant something to the Jedi.

"Company?" she said out of the corner of her mouth.

"Yup. A lot of it," replied Faith as she removed the stake that Giles had made her from her belt. It was almost as good as Mr Pointy. Faith twirled it in one hand and then pulled her knife out with her other hand.

"How much is a lot?"

"At least 20, maybe more," said the brunette.

"Sod."

"You've been hanging with the G-Man too long."

"Better him than 'Mr I'm fresh off from Watcher School'."

"Nah, Giles will teach me all the good bits. What do ya think they teach in Watcher School anyway?"

"How to make tea?"

"Crumpet toasting?"

"What is a crumpet anyway?"

"Horry had them. Round things, like floury waffles. Great with butter."

"Fattening?"

"Only if you don't do some slaying afterwards."

They were approaching the junction now and suddenly a voice said: "Well, hello, what do we have here?"

"Pair of Slayers," snapped Faith. "I recognise that voice, by the way. I thought you skipped town when I dusted your master, Trick. Working for the Mayor now?"

The vampire stepped into the light. "I never could resist the opportunity to taste a little blood. And Mayor Wilkins has a great health plan."

Buffy drew her sword and picked imaginary dirt off the razor-sharp edge. "Let me guess, Skyler can't make it tonight?"

Trick smiled, his teeth glittering in the light of the streetlamps. "He was unavoidably detained. Being stabbed in the guts with a chair leg disagreed with him. It can happen to the best of us."

"So, I'm guessing that you don't have the Books of Ascension on you at the moment?" said Buffy. Something was sending the hairs on the back of her neck up at the moment, but she still wasn't sure why exactly.

"Give the girl a cigar," said Trick with an outright smirk. "No, my employer has them in his possession. Not that you can stop his plans now." He looked around behind them. "You know having the two of you here is a great present, but I'm disappointed that your friend Mr Harris isn't here tonight. Ah well, I get to kill him later."

This set alarm bells off in the back of Buffy's brain. This guy was seriously confident. Too confident in fact.

"Care to fill us in on your bosses' plans?"

Trick roared with laughter at this and then waved a finger at her. "This is 't a James Bond flick, sister. I don't spill the beans because I have you at my mercy. Which reminds me. You can probably smell my friends off to one side." Multiple snarls rose at this, and shapes appeared off to Trick's right, as the pack of vampires made an appearance, yellow eyes and fangs glittering in the light.

"More the merrier," said Faith with her own snarl and gathered herself ready to pounce, until Buffy reached back to grab her shoulder. "There's something else there, Faith."

Trick blinked hard and then grinned again. "Another cigar for the Slayer. Yes, I brought some friends." He raised a hand. "Trevor."

There was a shimmer in the light and then eleven shapes appeared out of nowhere, horned demons with red eyes. They were all dressed in varying t-shirts and leather trousers and they were all carrying crossbows, which they were pointing with a lot of accuracy at the two Slayers. This was bad. The vampires they could deal with, but crossbows were bad. If it was just a few each, they could dodge them, but eleven was a bit much, as Giles would say. The problem was that they were very fast. Crossbows were slow to load but they had a massive punch because they were so fast. This was turning into an icky situation.

"Trick," said the tallest and meanest looking demon, "We need to have a little talk about your definition of 'dangerous but killable', along with 'challenge'. These are Slayers."

"So what? You get to help kill them and get paid for it at the same time." Trick licked his lips. "But I get to finish them off."

"If we could do anything but observe when we're cloaked, then they'd be dead already," growled the demon. "Get it over with."

"I don't think so," said a voice from the shadows. "Guess what? The Slayers weren't alone either."

Buffy heard the familiar snap-hiss of a lightsabre being turned on and then suddenly the blue blade was whizzing out of the shadows towards the stupefied demons in a whizzing circle of energised death that scythed the heads off five of them before snapping back into the hands of the onrushing Jedi Knight.

Faith let out a battle cry and went straight for Trick, her knife blurring in her hands as they traded blows, Trick using a Bowie knife that he had pulled from a sleeve. There was a noise to one side and Oz emerged clutching his sword on the other side as Xander and then all hell broke lose as the pack of vampires erupted on them.

Buffy rolled, came up in front of one of the demons, who was still clutching his crossbow and brought up Birdy in a low humming blow that took its hands off, before removing its head with the backstroke. Feeling rather than seeing the one next to it take aim from a range of five feet with its crossbow she dodged hard and felt the air from the crossbow bolt brush her ear as she jabbed her sword upwards in a killing blow up into the demon's ribcage. Jerking it out roughly she kicked the body away and decapitated two vampires that were trying to sneak up on her.

Risking a quick look around she could see that a rush of fangfaces had driven Faith away from Trick. Not that the brunette Slayer was in any danger, from the rain of dust that was appearing around her. Faith got one at neck height with her knife, jabbed backwards with her stake to get another one, then grabbed two around her neck with her arms, pivoted back to kick an onrushing vampire in the face, flipped the two she was holding onto the floor to deal with them and then used the dust to feint to one side and stake another visitor to the party. As for Oz he was using his sword almost as well as Xander was using his lightsabre. The Jedi almost looked as if he was dancing as he smashed a path through the vampires.

Which really left the demons to worry about. Buffy could see one on its knees, as well as what was left of its hands. Turning she could see another two moving around frantically in the melee, trying to get a clean shot at one of their opponents, but not daring to fire until they could be sure of hitting something. Kinda screwy to just be armed with crossbows, but hey she wasn't complaining.

Getting another two vampires at neck height she moved in behind one of the demons, kicked it hard one of its knees in a low blow that Giles had taught her and then lopped its head off. As it died its finger tightened on the crossbow trigger, sending the bolt up into the back of a passing vampire, which screamed loudly enough to alarm the other demon, which span and looked straight at her.

"Crap," she said and dived forwards as the demon raised his crossbow in an attempt to get a shot off at her. Instead Birdy came up and made a complete mess of the lower part of a t-shirt that said: "Knight Ozzy", before causing something purple, coiled and unpleasant to erupt out of it and splatter on the ground. The demon screamed and collapsed.

Buffy came up and got another vampire, this time at chest height which was unfortunate, because although it screamed it also got her with a backhand that sent her moving backwards to slip on the purple stuff from the now dead demon and went down hard. As she looked up dazedly the vampire pulled out Birdy with a scream and then raised the sword to get her... until a blue glowing blade came out of nowhere and caught the vampire in the neck, reducing him to a cloud of dust, while a steel blade caught the one behind it. Birdy swooped through the air into her hand and then the Jedi were both leaping over her to get the vampires coming after her. Something invisible seemed to pull her upright and then she was back in the fight.

The vamps were losing their focus by now, reduced to about 15 or less, and the remaining ones were starting to look a bit panicky. Not that she was worrying much about them – by her count there was one demon left and she couldn't see it at all at the moment. Trick was hovering and somehow staying away from Faith, and where was that last damn demon?

She got her answer when she saw Xander spin almost in midair and then lunge at what appeared to be empty space. A scream battered her ears and suddenly the big demon had appeared out of nowhere, clutching at one severed leg whilst still holding its crossbow. Xander's lightsabre came up and back to deliver the killing blow but suddenly one of the few remaining vampires made a stab at the Jedi's neck and he was forced to duck, roll and slice the vampire in half before taking its head off.

It left ugly just enough time to aim and point the crossbow before the blue blade took its head off. The bolt snapped away, flying past the Jedi, past his Padawan, or whatever the name was for Oz... and into Faith's calf.

The other Slayer had just enough time to stake one vampire and get another in the neck before she screamed, a horrible sound that made Buffy want to be sick. Clutching at her leg Faith fell to the ground to writhe in agony, swearing the air blue around her.

"Faith!" shouted Buffy and moved to stand over her protectively. Not that there was any need. The remaining vampires – all two of them – were running by now, not including Trick, who was watching from one side. "Shit," said the vampire, "Harris has a pupil. Well, one Slayer out of two ain't bad." Then he was gone, running through the park.

Buffy glowered. "Xander, Oz, take care of Faith." Then she was gone, running as hard as she could after the vampire.


Oz wrinkled his forehead. "Damn. Should she be doing that?"

"Nope," said his teacher, deactivating his lightsabre and then kneeling next to Faith, who was still hunched in agony over her leg and keening with pain. "Faith? Can you hear me?" But the Slayer kept keening, rocking back and forwards over her leg. Sweat running down her face.

Xander leant down and touched her forehead and then hissed. "She's burning up." Turning he looked down at the bolt that was sticking out of both sides of Faith's leg. Then he glanced up along the road. "Late again, Giles."

After a moment the Watcher appeared, followed by his fellow countryman, Cordelia, Amy and a very flustered looking Willow. Oz sheathed his sword and walked over to his love and kissed her forehead. "No books but we made it. Although Faith's been hit."

"Where's Buffy?" asked the older Watcher with some concern. Wesley was staring at the masses of dust and demon bodies with incredularity.

"She went after Trick, the vamp that was with Kakistos but who's now working with the Mayor, Giles," said Xander. "But I'm more worried about Faith. These demons were holding some kind of crossbows and one of them got her in the leg. She's having a bad reaction Giles, I don't like the way she feels at all with the Force."

"With the what?" asked Wesley, but everyone ignored him. Oz knelt down next to Faith and Xander, whilst Giles examined the bolt as gently as he could.

"Damn," said the Watcher after a moment, "I don't like the way she's looking. Is there any way that you can cut the ends off the bolt cleanly?"

The Jedi Knight and the Watcher exchanged a long glance. "Only one way," said Xander.

Giles looked at Wesley, who was pale. "Very well."

"Hold her," said Xander as he pulled out his lightsabre. Then he ignited it. With that familiar sound the blade came out, followed by a gasp of astonishment from the new Watcher.

"How the hell..." said Wesley.

"We don't have time for this," replied Xander and then used the tip of the blade to chop off the end and tip of the crossbow bolt in Faith's leg. The second that Xander deactivated the lightsabre Giles was carefully picking up the tip of the crossbow with his handkerchief. Carefully he sniffed the piece of metal and then pulled a face.

"Some sort of poison. Damn." He looked up at Xander. "I don't have the skill to deal with this. Call an ambulance."

"Wait," said Xander and then leant over the wound. After a long moment sweat started to stand out on his own forehead. The remaining part of the bolt eased out of the wound, to the accompaniment of a scream of pain from the Slayer, but after that Faith's slow keening of pain eased a bit. However, it didn't stop. He gasped and raised a trembling hand to his head. "Damn. Healing is not something I've practiced much. Jedi healing trance, yes, but poison? No. Damn."

Oz stared at Faith's leg. Something seemed to be glowing blackly in it with the Force. There seemed to be something there, something that was pulsing along her veins. He took a deep breath and moved closer to her leg. "I can see it," he said slowly. "There's something there in the Force, something I can see. It's black."

Xander looked at him sharply and then looked back at the wound. "I think I can see it too, but not as clearly as you can. Wow, I think you have better healing abilities than I do. Try it, Oz."

Hesitantly Oz reached out to hold his hands around Faith's legs, his fingers just above her skin. Fine black filaments seemed to blossom on her leg as he looked it and he tried to imagine those filaments withering, withdrawing back towards the long wound. He couldn't do much about the wound itself – he could feel the flesh starting to rebind and rejoin as the result of the powers of the Slayers – but he could get the poison to withdraw.

Where to though? Holding out his hand he grabbed the end of the bolt that had fallen to the ground and held it next to one end of the wound. Then he concentrated with the Force, willing the poison to ebb back up through Faith's leg to the bolt end... up to the bolt end... up... up... out of the wound... up... up... up... out of the wound... up... up... up... By now he was shaking with exhaustion as the black lines thinned and vanished and a tiny globe of black moisture appeared on the end of the bolt.

After the longest ten minutes of his life, watched by the others around him, he set the contaminated thing down with a shaking hand and collapsed onto his hands and knees. "Okay," he said, fighting the need to close his eyes and sleep for a week. "That was bad. How's Faith?"

"Five by five, more or less," said the wide-eyed Slayer. "Hurts like hell, but I've had worse."

"Cool," he said, and fell asleep.


"Well, that's a new element of the Force," said Xander wonderingly. "I'm not brilliant at healing, but it seems that Oz is. Interesting. It makes you wonder..." Then he looked at Giles. "Sorry, G-Man, no Books of Ascension and we didn't even get Trick. But we did get to put a big hole in the vampire population, plus we took out those demons. I don't know what they are, but they can operate invisibly for some time. They can't do anything much whilst they're out of sight, but they might have been able to do a lot more damage if Oz and I hadn't been around."

"Well, I'll do some research about them," said the Watcher, "Although if they are what I suspect they are, then we shouldn't have too much to worry about. I think that they might be members of a breakaway sect of a quite rare demon clan, one that normally operates out of the Alps. A, a shame as the others are quite spiritual."

He paused to look at the dumbstruck Wesley. "I think that we might have some explaining to do as it is."


Trick was very fast for a vampire, thought Buffy as she sped through the park after him. He was very fast indeed. She needed to slow him down, but she didn't want to disarm herself at the same time, so she couldn't do a Xander and throw Birdy at him. Glancing to one side she swerved slightly and grabbed a short branch off a fallen log, which she weighed as she ran. Not bad.

Hefting it carefully and threw it at the running vampire's back but instead of hitting his legs she got him on one arm instead, making him stagger slightly. He looked over his shoulder at her and his eyes widened slightly at how close she was. He was starting to look a bit desperate now and he darted off to one side in an attempt to put some distance between them. Then he speeded up slightly, making for a dark shape in the near distance. As they drew closer Buffy could see that it looked like an entrance to one of the service tunnels under Sunnydale. It was heavily overgrown and had an iron grill over it, but if the vampire got into it that would change the nature of the game. Fighting a vampire in an enclosed space was never a good idea.

Trick turned at bay at the entrance and then snarled at her before pulling out his bowie knife and slashing at her.

"Didn't your mom tell you that you should never bring a knife to a sword fight?" Buffy asked sweetly as she brought Birdy up. "Now tell me what the mayor is up to so we can kill him."

The vampire grinned viciously at this. "You can't. He's invulnerable. And when he ascends in 90 days, you're all going to die. I'm going to enjoy that."

Flipping the knife around he suddenly threw it straight at her, forcing her to use Birdy to deflect it. In that split second Trick span around, grabbed the lock on the grill, pulled it off with a scream of wrenched metal and flung the gates to the tunnel open.

"Be seeing you," he said and vanished inside.

Buffy was about to follow him in when all of a sudden something seemed to move in the tunnel entrance. Then Trick screamed, a horrible noise that echoed around the walls and made her head ache. "Nooooo!!!!" shouted the vampire, suddenly reappearing on his knees in front of her. He flung himself onto his stomach and clawed the ground with desperate intensity. "Help me! It's got me!" But before the Slayer could even move whatever it was in the tunnel pulled the vampire bodily back into the darkness, his fingers leaving long runnels in the earth as he tried to get a grip. The vampire screamed again, a high-pitched sound that seemed to end in a weak gurgle and then there was just silence.

"Whoa, that was freaky," said Buffy in a very small voice. There seemed to be some form of black mist flickering at the entrance to the tunnel and she backed away carefully. "Okay, one vamp down, which is always good, but freaky new beastie in town, which is bad." Better check on the others, she thought, and then started to walk back through the park.

When she arrived back at the junction Faith was having her leg bandaged from Amy's pack by Xander, who spoke up as she approached, even though he had his back to her. "Hey Buff."

"It still freaks me out when you do that." She frowned at the sleeping Oz. "I know it's late, but why is it naptime for him?"

"He healed Faith," said her Watcher sternly as he looked up from inspecting Amy's bag. "Buffy, that was a very impetuous and irresponsible thing you did."

"Nah," said Faith, "B, did ya get him?"

"Yes and no," she replied. "I cornered him by a service tunnel in the park, where he almost gave me the slip. He dashed in and the next thing I know he's screaming like a banshee and some kind of black mist is attacking him. He sounded very dead at the end. No idea what this thing was though."

Xander jerked to his feet and stared at her. "Black mist? Did it have tendrils and stay within the tunnel?"

"I think so," she said, bewildered. "I didn't go in or anything, it was hard to see. And I'm not that impetuous, Giles."

The Jedi and her Watcher exchanged a long look. "Could be a wraith," said the Englishman eventually. "Damn."

"What's a wraith?" asked both Slayers almost simultaneously. "And did it get that son of a bitch for sure?" added Faith.

"It's a creature that feeds off negative emotions," said Giles, staring at the park with an unreadable expression on his face. "Born of hatred, fear, and so on, it feeds off them. Very difficult to kill if you aren't prepared to face your worst nightmare."

"I met one in the desert last year," said Xander. "You have to face it with no emotion whatsoever. But it was still able to appear as my darkest fear, my dark side. I beat it. Wouldn't be standing here otherwise."

"So Trick...?" prompted Faith.

"Was killed by his worst nightmare."

"Cool," said the Slayer and then levered herself to her feet, only to yelp with pain as her injured leg touched the ground. Buffy moved quickly to grab her arm on her injured side and support her.

"Come on, let's get you home. Who's dealing with the sleeping beauty there?"

Xander smiled and bent over his Padawan along with a worried looking Willow. "Hey. Oz, wake up."

The werewolf muttered something in his sleep and then slowly opened his eyes. "Damn. Tired."

"You'll be okay. Wills, get him home. He'll need to sleep, that or go into a Jedi healing trance," said Xander as he helped Oz up, whilst Willow fluttered around them both.

As the little procession made its way down the road Buffy heard a very subdued Wesley say: "Mr Giles, what the hell is going on?"

"Ah," came the response, "Remember how I said that there are a lot of surprises on the Hellmouth?"

"Yes."

"Well those two are one such surprise. They're Jedi."

"They're what?"

"Jedi. From the films."

"Mr Giles I'm not a total incompetent, I do know what Jedi are. But that's completely absurd, how can those two young men have fictional powers? What kind of spells are they using, really?"

"They don't, they're Jedi. You must have seen Xander's lightsabre clearly."

"Frankly I was hoping it was a trick of the light."

"It was dark."

"That's what I mean. The whole thing is absurd and I demand a proper explanation."

"Very well then. You're a pompous little tit."

"I meant about the Jedi claim."

"Oh, that. Ah. Well, the Halloween before last a chaos mage called Ethan Rayne came to Sunnydale..."

Buffy smiled. It sounded like the new Watcher was having his baptism of fire.


Most of the bar's normal clientele were long gone by the time that Smith came in through the door. Nodding at the barman he glanced over to the alcove where the man he had come to meet was sitting, nursing a glass of beer. As he crossed over to the alcove the barman walked up to the remaining customers and jerked its thumb at the door. "Out. Private business here."

The taller customer, a vampire by the look of him, started to protest, but stopped when the barman cracked his knuckles in a highly suggestive manner. They left.

As the barman closed and locked the door behind him, he slipped into the alcove and looked at the man opposite. He had never trusted Harry Wolfit that much, but he was the most... reliable was one word that just about fitted the bill, person that he knew of at Wolfram & Hart.

"This had better be worth my time," said the lawyer in a conversational voice. "I'm up early tomorrow for a sacrificial flaying and then in court right after that for an alimony case."

"Isn't alimony a bit... beneath you?"

"Not when it comes to the amount of money involved. Not that it's much of a challenge. The defendant won't be in court."

"He won't?"

"Of course not, who do you think we're flaying tomorrow morning?"

"Ah," Smith said, with a suddenly very dry throat. "Right. I've picked something valuable up. A week ago a waste of space called F'Varr contacted me. Said he'd found something." He reached into his coat carefully and pulled out the silver cylinder, laying it on the table in front of him.

"What is it?" asked Wolfit, looking at it curiously.

"I'd better show you, 'cause if I tell you you're going to send me to the funny farm." He carefully grabbed it and flicked the switch on the side. With a smooth buzz of power the red blade extended itself and lit the alcove with a red glow. There was a tinkle of broken glass from the bar as the barman dropped something and swore under his breath.

"You're right, I wouldn't have believed you," said Wolfit with wonder in his eyes. "A lightsabre? Is it real."

"Got something on you that you don't need?"

Wolfit reached into his jacket and pulled out a Wolfram & Hart pencil, which he tossed onto the lightsabre blade. Two clean halves fell to the floor.

He grinned at the lawyer and then deactivated it. "I take it that Wolfram & Hart would be interested in buying this thing?"

"Oh yes," said Wolfit, his hooded eyes glittering with an unreadable emotion. "Where did this F'Varr get it from? Who made it?"

"That's the problem, I don't know. The stupid little bastard was fiddling with it when he met me. Pressed the stud at the wrong time and cut his own head off. He always was clumsy. But he said that he had found it in Sunnydale and that the previous owner was dead."

Wolfit sat there, his eyes flickering slightly as he thought hard. "Well, as it's out of Sunnydale now, that means that it isn't covered by the Agreement any more... so we can claim it." He nodded sharply at the barman, who lumbered over to the alcove.

"Kill him," he said, pointing at Smith, who gaped at him.

"No, I came to you with it as soon I as knew you were back in LA and I..." but suddenly a great arm was around his neck and a hand was twisting his head, twisting it hard. There was a crack and then nothing.


The wail of a police car siren started up a few blocks away and Lindsey got up to walk over and close the window. Los Angeles was spread out before him, umpteen spots of light, splashes of colour, and blurs of movement. Fine lines crossing the city, slender filaments of commerce, crime, emotion and sometimes even the law. Filaments that led back, sooner or later, to Wolfram & Hart. He smiled mockingly, lifted his glass of whiskey in a salute to the city and turned back to the files on the table.

He had quite a few now, carefully kept here in his apartment. He dared not bring them into the office; the chance that Lilah might get her sticky hands on them was slender but still present. Sitting back down he opened the largest one, which had been copied from various sources that he wasn't supposed to associate with, not if he was a fine upstanding member of the legal profession.

Alexander Lavelle Harris, his life and times. And what times they were. Up until the age of 16 he seemed to be just another ordinary Californian face in the crowd. Mother was Jane Fiona Harris, neé Howling, housewife, former dress salesperson at a store with a very French name. Father was Anthony Lavelle Harris, under-manager at yet another chain of stores that was eventually owned by one of the larger US conglomerates. Both seemed to be under-achieving their way into middle-aged decrepitude, rather like his father.

Alexander Harris himself had a school report that seemed to predict a similar future. A straight C or D grade student, despite "signs of intelligence if he can stop smirking" according to the former Principal Flutie. Dumb name.

Then from the age of sixteen Buffy Summers had arrived and things just got screwy. Flutie had been torn apart and eaten by a pack of wild dogs that just happened to drop unnoticed into his office. The new principal was one of Wilkins' lackeys, a man called Snyder. Lindsey was willing to bet good money that Snyder was someone with massively unresolved personality issues and some form of complex that went back to his own days in High School. He certainly came over as an angry little man. Little might be a key word here. Snyder certainly didn't like Harris. Or Summers. Or someone else called Rosenberg. The Department of Education records about those three just dripped with vitriol from Snyder's busy little pen.

Even with the arrival of Summers, the Harris kid's grade average hadn't changed that much. Understandable with all the weirdness going on. But then, from about a year and a half ago, that had changed. Previously unseen things like Bs had started to appear, followed by As. A lot of As actually. Snyder, it seemed, had instantly suspected cheating on a massive scale and had put in a lot of preliminary reports "prior to expulsion". There had been a lot because it looked like Snyder couldn't actually find anything, let alone enough to make up an excuse. Harris had passed his exams at the end of that school year with impressive results, something that had continued over to this present school year. His SAT scores had been very good as well.

Something also seemed to have happened to the Harris family. Anthony Harris had been promoted once and was now in the running for the post of store manager at the moment, despite the fact that he'd been singled out for possible sacking in the past. Jane Harris had started a new job at the local bookshop. Both seemed to be dragging themselves out of their seemingly inevitable decline. Harris senior's brother, Rory, hadn't been arrested for being drunk and disorderly for an entire year and had actually gotten a job at the local lumberyard.

Then it all got really interesting. During the previous summer though Harris had been away from Sunnydale. In the desert actually, or rather in a house owned by William Harris, a rather successful businessman and brother of Anthony and Rory Harris. And this was the intriguing bit – if you looked on the map, the house where Alexander Harris had been staying was just three miles from the cave where the Cross of the Trinity had been discovered. The cave where Lilah's goons had failed so spectacularly. Quite a coincidence, that.

There was something else though. He'd been perfectly accurate when he'd given that report about the Institute and how Summers had thrown one of the guards against the security camera. However what he hadn't said – because he hadn't known at that time – was that there was another security camera, a far less sophisticated one that just took snapshots on a rather erratic basis and which had been installed by the previous owners. Two pictures had been recovered from that night – the rest had been lost when the system had finally been fried thanks to the power going down the next day.

One picture was of the Slayer. The other was off two men, the half-Brachen demon called Doyle and a dark-haired young man with a serious expression and a sword in his hand. Compared with the High School yearbook picture of Harris, the two matched. This was getting more and more fascinating.

Lindsey got up and looked out his window again. When he'd been a lot younger he once remembered reading that the Romans had had a saying that when they felt something odd, their thumbs twitched. Well, his thumbs were twitching now. He wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling that something was happening, that a new player had entered the game without anyone knowing about it and started moving pieces around the board. He let the last of the whiskey slip down his throat.

Interesting times lay ahead.


Lilah sat at her desk and glowered at the opposite wall. Holland Manners had given the Jenkins case to Lindsey. Good ol' stinking Lindsey. It wasn't right, she'd worked to get that case in. She'd done all the legwork, she'd got the paperwork in, she'd put the fear of death into the legal opposition and she'd done all the damn work! And now Holland stepped in and gave the case to his blue-eyed boy. Well, it wasn't fair. That brat of a Texan got everything. Best cases, best rewards. Sure he was good in the courtroom, sure he had charm where she preferred that slight edge of menace, but she was every bit as good as him in the courtroom.

She glowered again, her anger rising like a tide. It was so unfair! She was as good as that little bastard. No, she was better than him! She'd show him too, she'd show them all! She'd make sure that the next big case that came in, she'd wipe the floor with the opposition and then destroy Lindsey's reputation as the firm's big hitter. Her hand clenched into a claw on the desk and she smiled coldly. She'd show them all.

There was a clatter out in the hallway outside her office door, followed by a rush of voices. Still angry, she looked up. She couldn't even brood in peace and quiet any more. Getting up she pulled the door open and looked out. One of the lesser flunkies was sitting with his back to the wall, rubbing at his throat whilst the others fussed around him.

"Oh for Christ's sake, what happened?"

"Couldn't breath," said the flunkey wheezily. "Felt like someone was choking me just now. Then it just stopped and I was okay."

Lilah looked at him with contempt. "Get him out of here and down to the infirmary. And then get back to work all of you. This place isn't a hospital, we have people to take care of slackers like him. Move!"

The various people moved off, two of them helping the loser who'd choked on some dust on something. Typical, you couldn't even find a better class of flunkey any more. Lilah went back into her office and slammed the door. She had some brooding to get back to.