7

Toronto, Canada - May 17th 2004

"Bloody heathens," Ethan Rayne mutters to himself, looking morosely at the Styrofoam take-out cup in front of him. With the US military on the look-out for him, he'd crossed the border with a fake driver's license and a simple glamour supplied by his host's warlocks to match the photo less than twenty-four hours after his break out from the military prison in Nevada the previous year. Canadians, he'd learned early on, had the horrible habit of leaving the teabag in the cup when they added the milk and sugar, and the result was a horribly acrid cup of tea that you had to fish the bag out of with a tiny plastic stick that they gave you to stir. The Queen might be on their money, but they had a lot to learn about making a proper beverage.

"Something wrong Mr. Rayne?" his assistant Lawrence asks politely. The young man is eager to be certain, but not very bright, Ethan thinks.

"No Lawrence, nothing to be concerned about." He fishes the sodden bag out of his drink with a pencil and dumps it unceremoniously into the waste basket. "That will be all," he tells the younger man and Lawrence nods and closes the door of the office behind him on his way out. Ethan looks back down at the folder in front of him and takes a breath before opening it. 'Top Secret: Eyes Only Travers' was the heading on the top page of the report. It was dated for August of 2001 and included a detailed account of the previous Watcher's Council report on all information regarding the lost location of the birthplace of the Slayer legacy. Stealing it had must have been a tricky procedure but Ethan had developed a deep respect for his new employer's methods of obtaining classified data and getting in and out of places they shouldn't be. Since they had broken him out of that god forsaken prison the previous year, the amount of information they managed to come by had staggered the Englishman. They seemed to have sources everywhere. Military, political, legal and business secrets of the highest sensitivity seemed to appear as if by magick whenever they were needed and Ethan was always very careful not to inquire too deeply into the manner in which these documents were procured.

The thirty odd pages of the report were mostly translations of some of the local African legends regarding the area known as "the Dead Garden" where rituals of human sacrifice and the darkest magicks were preformed. It was in this place that the first of the Slayers had been created and the black stain left by the ritual had supposedly blighted the place, allowing no living thing to flourish there. For over a millennia, the place had been nothing but a vague rumor but now it seemed that his dear old friend Ripper had decided to dig up the myths and attempt to find it. The extension of the Slayer legacy had created tsunami sized ripples amongst the demon community, some claiming that it was the end of days for demon kind on earth and others taking it as a sign that the final apocalypse was at the nigh, where the forces of good and evil would have their final battle to determine the fate of the globe. Ethan's new friends were of a more pragmatic view, as he had learned during his first meeting with them several months previous.

Ethan had been sitting on the cot in his stark 8x8 cell in the middle of nowhere the previous September. The walls and his own thoughts were the only company he has had in years. After nearly four years of staring idly at nothing, his already active imagination has begun to play tricks on him. Ethan hears the clomping boots of the guard bringing him his lunch. With not much else to do, he's able to associate certain sounds with their owners. Clomping Boots, for example, is his favorite among the staff in the detention center. The guard is a standard military drone; however, his sarcastic demeanor makes for 2 minutes of semi-interesting conversation when he comes to bring Ethan's mid-day meal.

"Rayne, cell number 2257," Ruiz says into an intercom next to Ethan's cell.

"Voice recognition accepted, Agent Ruiz, Marco L." The intercoms replies.

The heavy metal door slides open first, then the electric steel gate behind it. Ruiz steps into cell. Ethan picks imaginary lint off his shirt and looks up at Ruiz with a half smirk. "Good Afternoon, Agent Ruiz. What's on the menu today?"

Ruiz sets down Ethan's tray next to him with an embellished gesture, "Well, the chef has prepared a savory meal of a processed turkey-like substance, served with a stale roll and mushy peas. And for dessert, bread pudding I wouldn't touch with a six foot pole."

"Just like mother used to make," Ethan sighs, eyeing the food. He looks at Ruiz with mock hope. "Perhaps some dinner music? Maybe something from your extensive collection of awful 80's hair metal?"

"Sure Rayne," the guard gives him a nasty smile. "Maybe something appropriate to the ambience. How about 'I'll Never Know the Touch of a Woman Again, Ever' followed by the lilting country strains of 'I Shit in a Pot and Sleep 3 Feet From It'?" Ruiz nods at the tray. "Anything else?"

"How's the weather?" Ethan asks, ignoring the jibe.

Ruiz chuckles as he steps outside the cell, "Another gorgeous day at Club Fed Rayne. Eighty degrees, and not a cloud in the sky. Maybe in thirty years or so if you behave, we can arrange to get you a picture of it." Ruiz presses a few buttons and the heavy steel and polycarbonate door and barred gate slide shut. Ethan morosely picks up his spoon and proceeds to sift through the turkey mush and peas. Suddenly, Ethan jumps up as he hears a crash and suddenly all of the lights go out. After a moment he hears the unmistakable clash of steel followed by Ruiz gasping then screaming. The screams end abruptly and the sound changes to a wet sounding sigh. The sound of heavy feet proceed down the corridor and the door and gate to Ethan's cell are literally torn from the concrete with a cacophonous crash slides back open as two Fyarl demons and four hooded figures with strange metallic masks step into the room. Ethan cowers in the corner of his cell. He dares to look up and all color drains from his face.

"It can't be..." Ethan trails off. A seventh figure has entered the room and he's gazing at it with open mouthed shock.

"Hello Ethan," Deidre Page says lightly. Ethan blinks, not quite believing what he's seeing. But it's her, right down to her shoulder-length hair, blue eyes and 70's style knee-high platform boots. "It's me, Rayne," she says as if reading his mind. "Or at least, as me as I can be."

Ethan frowns, bewildered, "But... we killed you..."

"Yes, but you see, the End of Days is approaching, and it concerns me that a man of your skills is rotting in a cell, wasting away his talent," she tells him.

"The End of Days?"

"That's right. You've felt it … me … coming."

"The First," Ethan murmurs.

"Not quite," Deidre grins. "Now, Ethan, darling, I'd like your help in assisting a friend of mine with a little task I've assigned with regards to the Watcher's Council. It's time those sniveling, pompous wankers get theirs, wouldn't you say?"

"Been sayin' that for years," Ethan smiles slowly.

"Wonderful!" Deidre claps her hands together and spins around. She walks around the cell, "After you help with destroying the Council and the Slayers, you're free to wreak all the havoc you want."

"Havoc of what sort?" Ethan asks.

Deidre's faces breaks into a malevolent grin, "The kind we used to talk about dear Ethan." Deidre leans in close and Ethan can feel the warm tickle of her breath on his skin. "Back when we decided that Chaos was the only order worth supporting. The Slayer has created quite an opportunity. Something wonderful."

"What's that?" Ethan asks, feeling butterflies in his stomach despite the terror of seeing his dead friend standing in the cell with him and knowing this can only be leading to a path of the very darkest sort.

"She's built us an army. And she thinks that she's won by doing it." Deidre nods to the hooded figures in the masks and one of them takes out two vials from inside its long cloak and after opening them, pours a brackish smoking liquid along the cement floor in a pattern of two circles with interconnecting lines. Ethan watches as the smoke clears and there, clearly etched and still smoldering in the cement is a symbol he hasn't seen in years. "The Left Hand Path," he murmurs in abject awe and Deidre smirks and nods.

"It's good to have friends in low places Ethan dear. Now time is wasting," she beckons to the Fyarls and they take Ethan by the arms and whisk him down the corridor. Dead marines lay here and there and Ethan takes a second to relish the site of Ruiz laying face up on the cold cement, quite dead with his throat torn out messily and his blank eyes fixed with an expression of the deepest horror. As they exit through several other smashed gates, Ethan is temporarily blinded by the harsh sunlight of the Nevada desert. Two unmarked helicopters are idling on the grounds ahead of them and the area is strewn with dead and dying soldiers. A dozen or so more of the hooded and masked figures are waiting silently next to the choppers and Ethan is hustled toward them by his demon escorts. He turns briefly to look for Deidre but she has vanished. They pile into the chopper and the rotor blades immediately pick up speed throwing grit and sand into the air as they leap from the ground and immediately turn north, accelerating rapidly. In the jump seat in front of his is a nattily dressed man of about fifty who extends a hand smiling.

"Mr. Rayne. My name is Carson Davies and I would like to welcome you to our little circle."

"Welcome?" Ethan is unsure of what to say and decides to play it cool. "And what makes you think I've accepted your invitation Mr. Davies?"

Davies smiles coldly and gestures south toward the rapidly disappearing prison camp, "Well, we could always return you to your previous hosts if you find yourself having doubts as to whether you'd like to be involved in our little venture."

Ethan settles back in his seat, his bluff called, and merely gives the other man a rueful smile. "That won't be necessary." The other man nods and Ethan turns to look out the window, contemplating the bright sunshine as the helicopter races across the desert. "'Eighty degrees and sunny', indeed Corporal. A shame you won't get to see it again," Ethan mutters with amusement, suddenly in excellent spirits. However his rescuers were they certainly weren't amateurs.

Ethan shakes off the memory and gets back to the folder in front of him. According to the legends, after the shaman had created the Slayer, most of them had died within just a few years. Supposedly the magicks they had worked had brought forth the vilest of curses on them and had marked the place as a powerful receptacle of death and misery. Rumors had later come of a powerful sect of the Thugee had migrated from India and had used the spot as the resting place for their goddess Kali. Ethan snorted. In his experience, there was no such thing as Gods. There was only power, and those with enough of it would appear to be godlike in the face the uninitiated. Man's ability to wield tools and fire had made them God's among the beasts of the earth. Ethan's suspicions were that many of the gods of ancient mythology and religions were merely holdovers from the time of the Old Ones, the ancient race of demons that had ruled the earth before man. Most had vanished millions of years ago, either killed off by their own kind in the struggle for dominance, or had left for other dimensions, either banished or merely weary of this one and looking for a change. Ethan and a few others had strongly suspected that some of them however, especially the lesser of their ilk, had stayed on, filling the vacuum of power that had been left by their predecessors and making themselves out to be deities amongst the first men. Could Kali be such a demon? Ethan flipped through the pages idly, his sharp mind pondering once again all of the questions that he had privately had about the Left Hand Path and its beliefs since he had joined their ranks the previous fall.

Despite their worship of an ancient and possible false god, the Left Hand Path were no shunners of technology. It seemed that they had excellent contacts in the military establishment and had used a hybrid form of cybernetics and mystical elements to create a form of super-soldier. What amazed and sickened Ethan most about this was that they had no lack of volunteers from their following that allowed themselves to be bastardized with the new system. Well you couldn't really argue with success, could you? The new cyborg soldiers were definitely of the ass-whipping set and Ethan had personally seen them take down a nest of vampires during their training and evaluation before the Los Angeles mission, in about the same amount of time it would take a grown man to subdue a testy Pomeranian. They had learned much from their failure at the Wolfram and Hart office and had begun picking off Slayers which had been the "Plan B" so to speak. Kali was a goddess of the dead and vampires were a definite favorite of hers according to his hosts. And Vampire Slayers made the most formidable vampires as he had been soon to find out.

The first one they'd brought in was a young black woman named Natasha. She'd fought like a fury, despite the sedatives they'd administered to her to calm her down and finally they'd had to hit her with an elephant tranquilizer to get her manageable enough to work with. After allowing a vampire to feed from her, it had slashed its wrist and fed her its own blood to turn her. The result was awe inspiring. The resultant vampire was like nothing Rayne had seen before, much stronger and faster than a normal vampire, but the pure evil of it has been the truly terrifying part. Ethan had known evil in his day, but the sheer animosity and malice the creature had shown was of a scale he'd never witnessed. They kept Natasha caged as they ran their tests and it seemed they all were happy with the result except for her demeanor. This is why they had wanted Angel. Apparently, with the presence of a soul in its sire, it made the vampire much more manageable and rational which was infinitely desirable in a creature as powerful and malevolent as the one Ethan had witnessed. Then Natasha had escaped.

A battered cage, three destroyed cyborgs and two other corpses in an alley a few blocks away were all that had remained the next day when her absence was discovered. He'd later learned that three Vampire Slayers had been dispatched by the Council after Natasha had gutted an after-hours club on Bloor St. and had tracked and killed the beast in a titanic battle that had cost one Slayer her life and one of the others an eye. No one knew if the Council had cottoned on to what exactly Natasha was, as the Left Hand Path had been careful to choose a Slayer with no Watcher, but Ethan knew Giles and he had a strong suspicion that Ripper would have sussed out what she was. Would Ripper suspect it was done purposely or would he write it off to a random event? Certainly, with all the new Slayers roaming around, this was bound to happen sooner or later? Yes, but again, Ethan knew Giles and he doubted whether good old Ripper would buy into a coincidence like this so soon after the expansion of the Slayer legacy. No, Ethan was pretty sure that Ripper was digging with all of the Council's considerable resources to find out who wanted to make Slayers into vampires.

"All in good time Ripper," Ethan says quietly to himself. He closes the folder and leans back in his swivel chair smiling before taking a sip at his tea. "All in good time."

8

London – May 8th 2004 – Head Quarters of the Council of Watchers

Xander had been back in London for just over 36 hours and was still adjusting to the difference in climate. After 8 months of living in tropical Africa with 100+ degrees Fahrenheit heat, the damp chill of the English spring was both a blessing and a curse. Andrew waiting at the airport for him hadn't helped.

"Xander!" the shout had made the ex-carpenter cringe as he had come through customs at Heathrow Airport and his worst fears were realized as the he spotted the young Watcher waving frantically at him through the crowd. Andrew's hair was considerably longer than it had been when it left, but the manic grin and excitement was still the same. Xander had sighed and shouldered his bag before returning the wave. What he hadn't anticipated was the concussive impact of Andrew hurling himself against him and hugging him fiercely. "Like mighty Ar-Pharazôn you have returned from your quest to the South, tanned and triumphant to the fold of your friends and comrades." Andrew's eyes are shimmering with tears as he steps back, still holding Xander's arms and looking at him with affection.

"Jesus Andrew," Xander had muttered half in disgust and half in amusement, and stepped back from the Watcher. "You know, hello was probably enough." He had glanced around hopefully but didn't see anyone else he recognized. "None of the others are here yet?"

Andrew shook his head dramatically. "Not yet. Mr. Giles asked them to be here by tomorrow and he wanted the chance to debrief you privately before the rest got here." Andrew jerked his head toward two teenage girls who were standing together several yards behind him. "Karen and Jenna are here as security. He wants us at Council Head Quarters ASAP." Andrew looked back at the two girls and gave a brief nod and to Xander's surprise both girls had nodded back respectfully and taken up flanking positions on either side of the two men as they started walking toward the exit. Whatever else Andrew may be, he certainly had developed a place of authority in the Council to have two Slayers respond like that to a mere nod. Andrew kept up his excited chatter all the way to the exit, asking questions about his flight, Xander's lion-tooth necklace that Oujay's wife had made for him and descriptions of all of the places and animals he'd seen, without bothering to wait for Xander to respond before firing off the next question. Xander did notice however that despite his "friend's" excited banter, that Andrew's eyes continuously swept back and forth as they walked and that he kept his coat open and his right hand free at his side. Andrew, it would seem, was a tad more formidable than his persona would lead the casual observer to believe.

When they reached the exit, a large custom van had been waiting for them. The two Slayers had swung out from their positions on either side of the two men; Karen moving to open the van's sliding door for them while Jenna stood a few yards to the side, her gaze sweeping over the area protectively. Xander slung his bag in the van and got into the back with Andrew following and Karen slid the door shit behind them before collecting her partner and sliding into a non-descript sedan to the rear. The van started off immediately with the sedan following as chase car and Xander had sank back into his seat and closed his eye, relishing the fact that he was minutes away from hundreds of restaurants, cold beer and a soft bed. The trip to the new Council building was short, less than fifteen minutes, and Xander took the opportunity to get updates from Andrew on what everyone was up too. Dawn and Buffy were in Rome, Willow and Kennedy were still in Brazil, Faith and Robin were in Cleveland, but the most surprising news had been that Spike was still around.

"Didn't he go the way of the Roman Candle in Sunnydale?" the shocked ex-carpenter had asked.

"Yep,' Andrew had replied nodding vigorously. "But somehow that amulet that Angel gave Buffy saved his essence in some way and it showed up in LA a little over two weeks after Sunnydale was destroyed. Someone decided that Spike was valuable and brought him back."

"Great," Xander grumbled. He'd never liked the blonde vampire and despite his sacrifice that had stopped the First's army, he still didn't harbor Spike any good-will. "Buffy know?"

"Yeah," Andrew had smiled and proceeded to tell a highly amusing story about Angel and Spike showing up in Rome the previous week looking for her.

"So they never actually talked to her?" Xander had asked.

"Nope," Andrew shook his head and then made a gesture out the window. "We're home."

The new Council building was an impressive structure. The building itself was six stories high and made of grey stone with lots of high terraces on the upper floors and had been built in the mid 1700's. The antiquity of the edifice however belied the high-tech interior that had been installed at Willow's insistence and every inch of the grounds and interior were monitored with a combination of state-of-the-art surveillance equipment and mystical protection. No one wanted a repeat of what had happened to the previous Council building. Willow herself had overseen the protective spells and mystical barriers that guarded the premises and had even arranged for the powerful Witches Coven in Devon that had taken her in after her breakdown in Sunnydale to attempt to break it. They had not succeeded.

The van pulled through a low stone archway and stopped at a gate guarded by two armed security officers. Andrew handed over a pass card through the window and then pressed his thumb on an electronic fingerprint recognition device. The guard checked the screen and nodded. A green light then lit up over the gate as it swung open. The van traveled down a narrow lane and the security process was repeated at another gate before the van was allowed to descend into the underground parking lot below the building. The two got out of the van and Andrew thanked the driver and instructed him to take Xander's bag to the guest wing before making off toward a bank of elevators on the east wall. Xander had followed him with a mixture of awe and amusement as they reached the elevators. Again Andrew swiped his card and placed his thumb on a small LCD pad next to the elevator doors. A green light again went off above the elevators and the doors slid silently open to reveal a plush interior. They entered and Andrew simply said "Sixth floor" before the doors slid shut and the elevator started its ascent.

"This technology stuff must drive Giles absolutely bat-shit," Xander said grinning as the doors slid open at the sixth floor.

"He threatened to have it all taken out the first week actually," Andrew replied matter of factly. "He stayed late one night and forgot his pass card in his office and then couldn't get back in to get it, so he was trapped for over an hour in the hallway before security found him trying to kick in the door to his office." Andrew just shook his head. "The really funny part is that all he had to do was press the panic button next to the elevator and security would have been there in less than sixty seconds." He paused. "Mr. Giles can really wreck a door. It was pretty impressive."

Xander laughed and Andrew led him down a lavishly carpeted and decorated hall before knocking at a set of heavy oak doors at the far end. A buzzer went off and the door clicked open and Xander found himself in a large anteroom where an authoritative woman in her late 50's or early 60's was regarding them stonily. There was another set of doors behind her and Xander assumed that they must lead into Giles' office. "Mr. Wells," she said gravely and then shifted her gaze to Xander. "And you are Mr. Harris I presume?"

"Uh, yeah," Xander suddenly felt very awkward and nervous under the woman's sharp gaze. He attempted a smile and took a step forward, outstretching his hand and opening his mouth to ask her name when his toe had caught on the edge of the large Persian rug in front of her desk and he'd went down hard, shaking the floor with the impact.

He swore loudly and scrambled to his feet and saw that the woman's expression had changed in the slightest. "Are you drunk?" she'd asked quite simply.

"What?" Xander asked in shock and then felt his face turning a bright shade of scarlet. "No, just … It's a one-eye thing … bad depth perception …" His stammering didn't seem to have any effect on the woman in front of him and he was starting to wonder if there might be a convenient hole for him to drop into when the doors behind the woman opened and Giles stood looking at them, his expression changing from annoyance at the racket that had disturbed him to pleasure when he spotted Xander.

"Xander," the Head Watcher's voice was warm and welcoming. He strode forward and grasped the younger man's hand with genuine pleasure. "Good to see you. Your flight went well?"

Xander grinned and nodded, genuinely touched that the older man was so obviously happy to see him. "Good to be back Giles."

"Splendid," the Watcher turned to his secretary. "Meghan, Mr. Harris is an old friend and a senior Council member. Please make sure that arrangements for his accommodations are taken care of and that he's given every consideration while he is here. As a matter of fact, can you call down to the steno pool and have an assistant assigned to him immediately?" Xander noticed with no small satisfaction that the older woman's demeanor instantly changed at the announcement of his status with the council and that she now smiled at him for the very first time.

"Certainly Mr. Giles. Will there be anything else?"

"No Meghan, but please make sure that we aren't disturbed." The secretary nodded and Giles immediately ushered the other two men into his office and toward a set of sofas with a low mahogany table between them in front of a crackling fire in the hearth of the far wall. Xander and Andrew both took a seat and Giles had poured them all drinks from his private bar before taking a seat across from them.

"Where'd you find her?" Xander grinned at Giles who had taken a large gulp of his whiskey and let out an explosive sigh afterward.

The Head Watcher smiled at him. "Meghan? We had her built out of left-over pieces of Margaret Thatcher, Martha Stewart and Atilla the Hun." Giles notices Andrew smiling and glares at him. "And for God's sake Andrew, don't repeat that to anyone. I don't want my afternoon tea to have any arsenic in it." Xander laughed and Giles smiled back before getting down to business. "So you found it then?"

"We think so," Xander then launched into an account of what had happened when Oujay and he had discovered the barren plain with the low rocky hills and the statues and of the warning they had received from whatever had possessed the guide. Giles listened in mostly silence, asking an occasional question but mostly growing more stoic as the story progressed. Xander hadn't given him too much information on the satellite radio for fear of the transmission being intercepted and this was the first time the Head Watcher had received a full account of the incident. When Xander had finished, Giles swirled the ice cubes in his glass thoughtfully and then looked up at the younger man.

"Well it certainly sounds like you found it. Now, you say that the voice's message was 'We do not suffer the living to come here,' correct?"

"That's it," Xander agreed, taking a slug of his own drink. "Not exactly a welcome mat."

"Indeed," Giles replied in a low voice, his expression thoughtful. After a moment he'd shifted his gaze to Andrew. "How is that report from Nevada coming?"

"I should have it finished in a few days," the younger Watcher replied immediately. "Just tracking down some specifics."

"Right," Giles replied. He stood and again offered his hand to Xander. "The others will be arriving Friday. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable and get some rest." Xander had done exactly that, sleeping for nearly 12 hours that night in his first proper bed in months and then waited with growing anticipation for his friends to arrive.

Now it was his turn to wait at the airport, the damp chill of the day causing him to shiver slightly despite the warm overcoat he was wearing. He suddenly spots a shock of red hair coming through the jet-way and into the airport that drives away all thoughts of being cold away instantly. "Will!"

The witch jerked her head toward the sound and exclaimed his name in a barely contained shriek of joy. She instantly dropped her bag for Kennedy to carry and raced toward him, enveloping him with a ferocious hug. "I missed you sooo much!"

The smell and touch of his best friend against him was the best thing Xander had felt in almost a year. A tidal wave of memory and affection batters into him and Xander feels tears tracing wetness down his own cheek. After hugging her back, he disengages her gently and sees the wetness on Willow's cheeks as well coupled with a huge grin. He returned it and uses his thumb to gently brush a few stray tears from her cheeks. "Hey you," he says gently. Kennedy arrives then, puffing slightly as she drags all of the luggage forward and then drops it in a heap beside them. Xander gives her a hug as well and then helps pick up the rest of the bags.

Giles had arranged for them to have a private lounge at the airport for the afternoon as Buffy and Faith were both due to arrive within the next hour as well. They stowed the bags in the lounge and left them under the watchful eyes of Karen and Jenna before heading off to another gate to greet Robin and Faith. Willow and Xander talked incessantly the whole time, catching up on events and swapping stories. Kennedy watches them with a bemused smile, occasionally shaking her head at the childish glee the two are obviously taking from each other's company and finally interrupts them when the loudspeaker announces that Flight 834 from Cleveland is deplaning. After a moment a familiar figure in tight leather pants and denim jacket emerges from the doors, followed by Robin who is looking quite chic in a pair of expensive black slacks and a tan v-neck sweater. He spots them first and nudges Faith who looks over and shoots them a wicked grin. In seconds more hugs are exchanged and Xander and Robin shake hands warmly.

"B make it yet?" Faith asks after greetings are exchanged.

Xander checks his watch and shakes his head. "She and Dawn aren't due for another half hour or so. Apparently they're bringing Buffy's new boyfriend." The last sentence is said with a hint of disapproval.

"B's got a new squeeze huh?" Faith purses her lips and leers suggestively. "This one have a pulse?"

Willow laughs and nudges the Slayer. "Play nice Faith. I don't know much about him but apparently Buffy really likes this guy and even Dawn thinks he's really great."

"Me, not play nice?" Faith asks in feigned shock, batting her eyes innocently. Robin just shakes his head and grins. "There a bar in this joint?" Faith asks, changing the subject. The group moves off to their private lounge to have a drink and catch up.

"How's Brazil?" Faith asked Willow after their drink orders had arrived and their server had retreated.

The witch gave Kennedy a furtive smile and took a sip of her Singapore sling. "Good! Great even. Kenn's parents set us up in a hacienda they own in Rio and we've sort of turned it into our base of operations. Giles initially wanted us in Sao Paulo but," she shoots another look at her Slayer girlfriend and suppresses a giggle. "Well, Rio is just as good."

"Better clubs I bet," Faith says with a wink and gives Kennedy a quick nod. "How 'bout you brat? Liking the life down there?"

"You bet your ass," Kennedy grins back. She and Faith had become fairly close after the destruction of Sunnydale but hadn't kept in touch much since she and Willow had left for South America just before Christmas. Faith refused to use e-mail so they had only chatted a few times. "Looks like Cleveland agrees with you two." She gestures to Robin and Faith who are sitting very close together. "Do I hear wedding bells and the pitter patter of tiny hooker-booted feet in your future?"

Robin had been taking a sip of his beer and almost swallows the bottle at this comment and Willow's eyes go wide and she smacks Kennedy on the leg underneath the table.

Xander snorts and then bursts out laughing. "Right," he says after recovering from his laughing fit. "We'll just get her an SUV and she can start wearing earth shoes and in a year they'll be the toast of the Ohio PTA and bake sale circuit." He snorts again. "I think I'd probably buy tickets to see that."

Faith grabs Xander in mock outrage and proceeds to give him noggin rubs with her knuckles until he's alternately laughing and begging for her to stop. Robin checks his watch and sets down his beer before gently disengaging his girlfriend from torturing the ex-carpenter. "I hate to break up this meeting of the minds folks, but Buffy's flight should be touching down right about now."

They all finish their drinks and drop some money on the table before leaving the lounge and heading toward Buffy and Dawn's gate. After about 15 minutes of waiting, they spot Dawn pulling a wheeled suitcase with Buffy and a handsome black man following. Willow rushes forward and tackles the younger Summers girl in a hug and in seconds it's a free-for-all as Xander and Buffy both rush forward to collide in a massive group hug. Faith and Robin watch with some amusement, but Faith's eyes are continually drawn back to the man that had accompanied them. His resemblance to Robin was fairly striking. Both black men had shaved heads and earrings with large muscular frames. Robin was probably slightly taller than the other man and had a goatee, but other than that, they could easily be mistaken for brothers. Buffy is dragging him toward the others and making introductions and Faith turns to Robin with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

"B's squeeze looks a bit more than sorta like someone I know. Anything I need to know about you two?"

"What?" Robin is taken aback and then looks back over to the group who are now moving toward them. "Me and Buffy? Of course not," he says perhaps a bit too defensively. Faith's dark eyes are heavy on him and he finds himself stammering on despite himself. "Well we went out the one time. I mean it was just business. She didn't know that I knew who she was and of course I knew that she didn't know, well maybe she knew something, but I knew she didn't know all of it and …" Robin pauses looking at his girlfriend who is barely holding in her laughter. Suddenly it dawns on him. "You bitch," he pokes her hard in the shoulder, smiling ruefully. Faith explodes into peals of laughter. "You already knew all this didn't you?"

"You fed me pears," Buffy says solemnly, punching Robin in the arm as the group arrives next to them. "I believe I made a comment about 'never having anything that good in my mouth.'" She gives the Watcher a hug and then grins at Faith.

"You set me up," Robin says, in what is more a statement then it is a question.

"Fuckin' A," Faith says recovered now but still grinning broadly. She and Buffy look at each other sort of awkwardly, not sure how to greet each other. Dawn solves this by leaping in and hugging Faith and then Robin.

Buffy looks around questioningly and then turns to Xander. "Where's Giles?"

"At the Council building," Xander tells her. "He and Andrew wanted to make sure everything was ready for the meeting later."

"No complaints here," Faith says with a shrug. "We'll be down to business soon enough. No need to start too early. Besides, I have a more important question," She turns to Buffy and then gives The Immortal an appreciative once over with her eyes. "Who's the new stallion B?"

Buffy gives Faith a death-stare but The Immortal just chuckles and holds out a hand. "You must be Faith." Even Willow and Kennedy feel a small tickle in their stomachs at the sound of his low melodious voice. "Buffy has spoken of your," he smiles, "candor. A pleasure to meet you." Faith's normally insolent grin in the presence of attractive men falters slightly and Buffy allows herself a moment of inward glee at the other Slayer's obvious discomfort. The Immortal turns to Robin next, "And you must be Robin Wood. Dawn speaks very highly of you. You were her principal in Sunnydale correct?"

"Yep, that's me." Robin shakes the other man's hand and returns the smile. "I'm sorry but you have me at a disadvantage. Your name is …"

"Tim," The Immortal replies warmly after a warning glance from Buffy. "That's not my full name of course, but it's much easier to say." The Slayer had been quite clear that he should volunteer no information about his true identity as it may cause some waves. The Immortal's role in the supernatural world was highly ambiguous. He had staked a clear position of neutrality between demons and humans that may upset some of the Watchers Council if they knew who he was. Andrew and Giles of course knew, but both had promised to keep his identity under wraps during the visit for the sake of getting what information they could about the Al Hatari Bustani.

"Well should we get this wagon of fun rolling?" Willow asks, checking her watch. "Giles said we should all be at the Council building for three and that way we can finish our meeting before dinner."

"Sounds good to me," Faith nods and gives Buffy a questioning look. "Ready to roll B?"

"Lead the way," Buffy replied grinning. It was comforting really the way they all slipped back together so seamlessly after nearly a year apart. Sure, she'd seen most of them once or twice and talked on the phone, but having everyone together was something they hadn't done since San Francisco when Xander had left in August last year. The only issue was what it was that had brought them together again. On their way to retrieve everyone else's luggage from the private lounge, she took the opportunity to study her friends and Xander in particular. Willow and Kennedy were in excellent spirits, chatting away with Dawn and The Immortal about Rome while Robin and Faith trailed behind them slightly, Faith still ribbing him about his faux date with Buffy. Xander however looked strained. He was grinning and joking with the rest, but something about his eyes and his posture left Buffy feeling nervous. The past year almost felt like an intermission and she shivered briefly though her long wool coat was keeping her quite warm. It was the eye, she thought to herself. Not Xander's eye, but the whole past year. It was like the eye of a hurricane we thought we had left behind in Sunnydale. But now it was back, and the calm was about to swirl back into a storm now that they'd all caught their breath. Whatever had happened in Africa, Buffy's instincts were telling her that it was about to change everything.

TBC …