WEDNESDAY. JANUARY 29, 2003

Dawn felt uncomfortable going to school the morning after that party where she made such a scene. She felt like a freak. She hated that feeling. But not everyone who saw her take down Clarke viewed her as a freak. Elijah certainly didn't. Elijah was not the physical sort. He was short and slightly built, 5 feet 7 inches tall, maybe 120 pounds. He had straight, floppy blonde hair and soft blue eyes, looking cute but fragile.

Elijah nervously approached Dawn, who stood at her locker. She turned to her right and saw him.

"Hey Dawn. It's me, Elijah. I'm a friend of Janice's."

"Hey Elijah. I know who you are." Elijah thought that was great.

"I saw you at Stoler's party last night. That thing you did to Clarke was unbelievable."

"It's not something I'm proud of."

"Well you should be. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

"Okay, you may have a point there," Dawn conceded with smile. Elijah was making progress.

"Anyway, after you left, I went out to talk with you. But then I saw you with that rocker guy, Spike. I don't mean to pry, but you two don't have a relationship, do you?"

Dawn laughed hard. "You thought Spike was my boyfriend!? God no! He's just someone I know. He knows my older sister."

Elijah breathed a sigh of relief and felt slightly embarrassed for making that assumption. "That's good. I just saw you two together, in the middle of the night, and I didn't know what to think. Wait, I'm giving you the wrong idea. I'm not trying to ask you out. Well, I am, but not in that way. I promise I won't do anything to cause you to go all Bruce Lee on me."

"You wanna be my friend?""A friend? I can always use another one of those."

Dawn arrived with Elijah at the Magic Shop. They saw Spike and Anya.

"Hey guys. This is my friend Elijah. Elijah, this is Spike and Anya."

"Right. I know Spike. Nice to meet you guys. Hold on. You're not by any chance Sterling's Anya, are you?"

Anya was a bit shocked. "You know Sterling?"

"I've jammed some with him."

"What do you play?," Spike wondered.

"Guitar, piano, sax. Which reminds me, I have to get back to school for jazz band practice. I'd love to talk music with you sometime, Spike."

Spike was thrilled to meet a fan, and eager to get out of work. "I could talk with you on your way back. I can take a break, right Anya?"

"No problem. You barely show up as it is." Spike left with Elijah.

"So that's your new boyfriend?," Anya asked Dawn. "He's pretty. And a musician to boot! I know how sexy that can be."

"We're just friends."

"Of course you are. That's how these things always start out. By the way, what happened to that other boy: the muscular athlete?"

"You mean Clarke? He got a bit too touchy-feely-grabby last night, so I sent his face through a coffee table."

Anya smiled and patted Dawn on the back. "I'm so proud of you, Dawny. You're becoming a woman." She got a little choked up. "You learned a valuable lesson, young lady. Men must fear you before they can love you."

"Don't you mean they must respect you?"

"Same thing. I've observed tens of thousands of couples over the centuries. And men never hurt women they fear. It's the only path to true love. Now this beatdown you gave Clark - "

"It wasn't a beatdown!"

"You sent him through furniture. That's a beatdown in my book. Stop acting all ashamed. Be proud of your prowess. Speaking of which, how public was this beatdown?"

"It was a party. There were like 60 people there. That's why it was so embarrassing."

"Embarrassing for Clarke. But great for you. Now the boys fear you. Oh sorry, I mean respect' you. They'll never try to hurt you again."

"Yeah, they'll run from me in fear."

"Nonsense. Haven't you learned anything from your sisters' experience?"

Elijah looked familiar to Spike. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Maybe you've seen my group, Windowpane?"

"No, that's not it." Then he remembers that Elijah was the pretty blonde boy vampire Dawny drained in the alternate universe. How unsettling. "So Elijah, what is it you like about my music?"

"It's not really the music, so much as the presentation. You can't play well, but you look like you belong on stage. I can play great, but I don't look like I belong. I think I could learn a something from you."

"Thanks. I suppose."

"I don't mean to knock you. You're great at what you do."

"Great at what? Posing?"

"Which is essential. Think of Paul Simonin smashing is guitar on the London Calling' cover. The Ramones, the Sex Pistols – all the great bands had a look. Okay, there's Radiohead, but they're the exception that proves the rule. Otherwise jazz would still rule the world."

"So is jazz your thing?"

"Not really. The improv's empowering – Did I just say that. God, I hate that word – but it's also frustrating. It sets this standard you know you can never meet. Like, no matter how much I practice, I'll never be Ornette Coleman."

"That's a pretty high standard. How bout something lower, like Stan Getz?"

"You like jazz?" They enter the school grounds.

"Don't let the look fool you. I'm more than I seem?"

"Really. What's your favorite jazz album?"

"Kind of Blue."

"That's what everybody says."

"Sketches of Spain?"

"Another crossover. Not that they're not great, but it's like saying Sargent Pepper's' your favorite rock album."

"They're great for hangovers."

"And when you're not hungover?"

"I'll tell you what I like when that time comes around," Spike joked. "I also like Ornithology,' and This is Free Jazz.'"

"You? Free jazz?" Drusilla loved free jazz because the cacophony sounded so insane.

"More to me than you think."

"There's more to everybody."

"Not this much," Spike replied cryptically. They entered the building. The girls in the hallway noticed Spike. They started talking, turning their heads towards him, acting excited. Spike thought they were making fun of him. He was way too old to be walking the halls of a high school.

"Maybe I could find out what that is sometime. Say, at the Bronze. When you're not on stage. It's nice to meet someone who actually knows a thing or two."

"Yeah, well, you seem to know a thing or two more than me, Elijah. And I've been around. Cheers."

Elijah walked into the band practice room. Spike kept walking down the hall, until he realized he was going down a cul-de-sac. He saw the wall in front of him, and turned to walk back. When he turned around, he saw a dozen girls standing about 15 feet in front of him. He looked at them. They stared at him. Smiling, giggling, looking very happy to have cornered Spike. Spike felt as if he was being hunted.

"Is there something I could help you birds with?," he asked. They grew more animated after hearing his voice. They whispered to each other "It's really him! I think it's really him!"

"Are you Spike?," one of the girls in front asked.

"Last time I checked," he answered. "Can one of you tell me what the bloody hell is going on?" There was more giggling after he said "bloody hell," like it was some catchphrase they had been waiting for him to utter. They walked towards him. Spike backed up until he was against the wall. He smiled nervously.

"What are you doing here?," one of them asked.

"Not like you shouldn't be here," another added defensively.

"Are you playing a show here? That would be so exciting!"

"Your music's awesome."

"You were great last night."

"That's sweet of you to say," Spike answered as he tried to figure out how to escape before they crushed him or ripped his clothes off. Being mobbed by adoring fans sounded more fun in theory than it turned out to be in practice. The mob was slowly, inexorably closing in. "Watch the hair, watch the hair," he warned. Then he decided to make a break for it. "Truly flattered, but I must be heading out know." He put his head down and wedged his way through the crowd. Once he broke through the phalanx of female admirers, he ran for it. Spike sprinted out of the school grounds and onto the sidewalk before stopping to catch his breath. He shirt had been ripped open. A button was missing. He looked at his reflection in a store window. His hair was all mussed up. Otherwise he was fine, except for the shock of it all. He went back to the Magic Box. Xander was there.

"I thought you had work, Harris."

"We finished drywalling at 3 so the crew got the rest of the day off. What happened to you? You look like you've been attacked."

"I was. By about 30 high school girls. (Exaggerating, of course.) I'm having a friendly chat with Elijah when I get mobbed."

"Tell me about it," Xander answered. "I've been through that a few times myself."

"Once. And I got mobbed without having to resort to the black arts."

"Probably cause you're in a rock band," Anya suggested. "And you're wrong. Rock and roll is one of the black arts."

Xander was mystified. "Spike, a heartthrob? That's crazy. What's wrong with these girls? Are they crazy?"

"I think it's kind of ridiculous too," Dawn told Xander. "Not to mention totally gross."

Spike laughed. "Oh, come on! Don't you remember that crush you had on me."

"I never had a crush on you."

"Well, well, well. Aren't we forgetful? All those times you came over to my crypt, insisted on spending time with me."

"I just did that to rebel against Buffy," she coolly responded.

"This is great!." Anya announced. "Spike's famous, and I slept with him." Xander did not look happy. If you become really famous, I can sell my story for lots of money and tell the world how woefully inadequate you were in bed." Spike seethed. Xander looked happy once again.

"Who's Elijah?," Xander asked.

"Dawn's new boyfriend," Anya answered.

"He's NOT my boyfriend!," Dawn objected.

"Oh, sorry. He's your friend, and he's a boy, but he's not your boy-friend. You keep believing that little fiction," Anya joked.

"Whatever happened to Clarke?," Xander wondered. "Buffy said he was a really nice guy."

"Buffy's easily fooled by jerks who pretend to be nice boys, in case you haven't noticed," Dawn told Xander. This was a backhanded slap at Spike. "Clarke was a disappointment. But he was never my boyfriend. And neither is Elijah who, unlike Clarke, is not a jerk. Although I'm beginning to suspect he's using me just to get to Spike." This was a joke, but it stung Spike because the previous night Jane told him she thought Connor was his lover.

That night, Spike headed out to the Bronze for a drink. Staying home alone only compounded his torment. He needed the noise and the sight of strangers to distract him. He entered and looked around to make sure Buffy or Willow or anyone else he had recently hurt wasn't around. The coast looked clear. "Hey there Spike," a voice called out from behind. Spike turned around.

"Elijah! Short time no see."

"I didn't mean to bother you."

"No. No bother."

"Cool. I just gotta go out and feed the meter. Could you do me a favor and get me a beer?"

"No sweat." Spike went to get two bottles of beer. He liked talking to Elijah about music. Took his mind off his problems. He bought the beers. Then he walked around. A girl approached. Black hair. Big almond-shaped brown eyes. Wearing a black thrift store dress. She moved languorously towards Spike.

"Two-fisting it today, I gather," she told him.

He looked down at her. "Oh, these. This one's for a friend."

"So you're with company. Who's the lucky girl?"

"Not with a girl. Just waiting on a friend."

"So you're unattached?"

Spike processed this question and laughed. This teenage girl was highly presumptuous to be hitting on him with such confidence. "For the moment." She smiled.

"What a pity. You're Spike, right?"

"So you've heard of me?"

"I've heard of you. And I've heard you. And I've seen you. And my eyes and ears like what I've heard and seen." Spike thought she was coming on a bit strong. She smiled, then stared up into Spike's eyes as if she were trying to bore a hole into his brain.

Spike stood there for a few seconds in silence. So young, yet so aggressive. It was quite ludicrous. A little girl playing seductress. And there was something eerily familiar about this particular bird. Maybe she was a vampire. But she was breathing regularly, like a human. Spike had to let her down easy. "Look, love, I'm flattered really, but I'm sorry -"

"Oh, there's my beer," Elijah said as he walked up to Spike. He took his beer, twisted off the top. "Thanks for getting it." The girl looked stunned.

"Eli, what do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? Hanging out with my new drinking buddy." Spike and Elijah each took a swig.

"Since when did you hang out with Spike?"

"Since this afternoon."

"Nice to see you've moved on," she jokes. "Loved meeting you, Spike." Then she walked by them.

"What? No frat parties tonight?," Eli snarled. She turned around and snarled back.

"You know that girl?," Spike asked Elijah.

"You mean April? We used to date."

"You dated that?"

"For three years. Hell, I was in love with that.' Then she decided she wanted someone more mature.'" Spike glanced over at her. She didn't seem like Elijah's type. Spike was trying to figure it out. Then Elektra caught Spike's eye. She thought he was checking her out, and gave him a come hither look. Spike shuddered and turned away.

"So what were we talking about last?," Elijah asked Spike. "Oh, yeah. Ornette Coleman. You know he was Lou Reed's hero? You like Lou Reed, right?"

"What's not to like?"

"Most of his solo work over the last twenty years. That, and his personality. It's odd how all geniuses are monsters. Like they put so much of their soul into their work they have nothing left for everything else they do." Spike would rather not talk about soulful monsters. Fortunately, Elijah saw Dawn with Brandon and Janice. "Gotta go," he told Spike, finishing his beer and hurrying over to his new friends. Bothered by his nagging conscience, by worries that April would start hitting him again, and by the sight of Dawn with a boy he saw her kill in another reality, Spike decided to head for home.

"Hey guys. Mind if I join you?," Elijah asked.

"No," Dawn answered. Elijah looked devastated and walked away. Dawn grabbed his arm. "Elijah, where are you going?"

"You said you didn't want me around."

"I said I didn't MIND you hanging around. Which means I want you hanging around. Get it?"

"Of course. Silly me, so used to rejection."

"See Janice, now we finally have our fourth wheel," Dawn explained. Ever since Connor had left, Janice's and Brandon's coupling had left Dawn isolated. Hopefully, having Eli around would change that.

Always one to be proactive, Buffy barged into the Madison residence. Catherine heard someone enter. She came down the stairs. "It's not polite to break-and-enter, young lady. Actually, it's quit illegal. Someday someone less forgiving than myself could call the cops on you."

"What are you up to?," Buffy asked as she glared at Catherine.

Catherine gestured to the boxes in bare living room. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Preparing for a quick getaway?"

"Moving. Or didn't you notice the U-Haul in my driveway and the realtor's sign on my lawn?"

"You seem pretty confident you're gonna get away with it."

"Get away with what?" Catherine laughed. "You really are a self-centered little thing. Everything's about you. You probably think there are only three kinds of people in this world: those who are out to get you, those who want to help you, and those who need your help. Wake up, honey. It's a big world, and you're a teeny-tiny insignificant part of it. We all have to learn that lesson someday. It's called growing up. You might want to try it sometime."

Buffy struggled to suppress her rage. "You're a sick woman."

"Actually, I seem to be the level-headed one in this conversation. Sorry to disappoint. I could easily have made your hair fall out in clumps, or covered your hands with boils, or something else amusingly graphic. But why should I waste any more of my precious time and energy on you?

"So you're scared of me," Buffy concluded with some pride.

"You still don't get it, Summers. I don't care about you. Now if you wouldn't mind, leave my house, get off my property, and get a life of your own. This, I desperately hope, is goodbye." Catherine slammed the door. Buffy stood stunned for a few seconds before walking away.

Buffy, Willow and Dawn were eating dinner that evening. "I went by the house," Willow reported to Buffy. Amy's story seemed to match."

"Maybe she remembers what happened the last time she took you on," Willow suggests.

"There was major fear factor going on. I think I scared her off."

"Finally, a villain who's smart enough to run. Glad we can forget about that one. No use worrying about hypotheticals when we got plenty of real bad guys to deal with."

Dawn spoke up. "I think we all learned a lesson here. I'm not sure what it is."

"What's this I hear from Xander about a new boy in your life, Dawny?," Willow asks.

"A new boy? What happened to Clarke?," Buffy wondered.

"He wasn't quite the gentleman I thought he was."

"Too bad. I really liked Clarke. So who's the new guy?"

"Anya said he's cute," Willow added.

"You people desperately need lives of your own," Dawn declared. "His name's Elijah. He's a senior."

"An older guy."

"Not that much older. He skipped a grade."

"Smart and cute," Buffy enthused. Dawn is tempted to burst Buffy's Anybody But Connor bubble by pointing out that Eli seems very fond of Spike, but decides against exploiting her sister's personal travails.

"And just a friend."

After dinner, Buffy took her clothes out of the dryer and brought them up to her bedroom. While putting them away, she stepped on something. It was the reports from Patrick which Willow had given her. She had yet to read them. "Origins of Slayer Power." Sounded interesting. She dug in. She skimmed over the technical stuff and finished it in about an hour. It struck her as too detailed to be trusted. Then she checked out "History of the Councils," which was more of the same, only with greater sensationalism. She didn't believe any of it, yet had to know more about it, if only to debunk suck tempting arguments so they wouldn't nag at her.

Downstairs, Xander came over and saw Willow in the living room. "So how are things going with Zooey?"

"Great. Really great. We graduated from the awkward stage and now we're officially a couple. She's my girlfriend. My lover. I mean, my soon-to-be lover." Willow saw the look in Xander's eyes and realized she was overheating his imagination. "How's your girlfriend?"

"Elise? She's great. We've just been taking it slow. I'm not ready to rush into anything."

"Well then be careful you don't take it too slow. Relationship's like a shark. Gotta keep moving or it dies."

"Or it goes all Jaws-y and starts hurting innocent bystanders and ripping people's limbs off. That's been my experience."

"Xander, you're not jinxed."

"I'd agree with you if I could find any evidence to the contrary. But I can't. I date women. They get hurt. Then they become demons. Call me crazy, but I don't think Elise should go through that."

Buffy stomped down the stairs. "Where did he get those fun little books from?," she asked Willow about Patrick, whom Buffy already had great doubts about because of his attempts to train vampires.

"Friends. Other obsessed weirdos like him. Some of whom got kicked out of the Council and have an ax to grind. B-but that doesn't mean they're completely, one hundred percent wrong."

"You believe that stuff?"

"I believe everything can be explained scientifically, and that's what they're trying to do.

"Who's Patrick?," Xander asked.

"Our local mad scientist," Buffy responded.

"I thought the Initiative was through?"

"He's scarier. Remember the daytime vampires? His work."

"But they didn't kill people and they fought other vampires," Willow pointed out. Having been the first the suspect Patrick of nefarious schemes, she was the first to clear him in her own mind.

"Do-gooding vampires? So how nuts is this guy?"

"He's not nuts. He just uses science to question established beliefs and superstitions. Sure, he's a weirdo. But find me someone who does experiments on demon in their spare time who isn't? Okay. That did make him sound nuts. Maybe you should meet him."

"Perfect," Buffy responded. "Invite the mad scientist into my home."

"Buffy's he's harmless. And no, Xander, he's not trying to build Adam 2.0. In fact, he hates the Initiative more than we did."

"Maybe he's jealous," Xander quipped.

"Okay, so he believes in some stuff we find a little wacky. Wouldn't most people find the stuff we believe in wacky?"

"He makes us look sane?"

"I just want to know where the hell his friends got this stuff from," Buffy declared.

"What stuff?," Xander asked.

"I'm going to call Patrick and invite him over," Willow said as she stood up. "Don't worry. He's physically harmless. Even you could beat the crap out of him, Xander." He smiled, then realized they may have been an insult. After calling Gugan, Willow explained to Xander Patrick's friends' theories on Slayers. Suffice it to say, Xander found their belief in multiple Slayers quite appealing. Dawn came down, caught a listen, and then nagged until she was brought up to speed.

"I always knew you weren't the only Slayer," Dawn told Buffy. "Turns out your kind's a-dime-a-dozen. So much for all that Chosen One' nonsense."

Patrick knocked at the door. Buffy answered it. Patrick entered. "I see the posse or gang or Fellowship of the Slayer or whatever it is you style yourselves has been assembled." Patrick looked down the foyer and saw Dawn in the kitchen. "Is it okay if I get some water to drink?," he asked before going to talk to Dawn alone. He figured she might be mad at him for what happened the other week with the vampire Connor Clone.

"Dawn, I just want to say, that thing with the clone. I'm sorry. That wasn't supposed to happen. I'm sure it must have been horrible for you and I sincerely and profusely apologize. And please don't hit me or poke me with sharp objects, though I may deserve it." She wasn't used to people acting so meek and nebbishy around her. It made her feel powerful.

"It's okay, I've been through worse. There aren't others, are there?"

"Clones? No. Certainly not. And they're won't be. You don't have to worry about that."

"I won't hit you. Just as long as it doesn't happen again."

"You have my word." Patrick went out into the living room. Xander had a question.

"Is this stuff true? Are there really 12 Slayers?"

"That's a conservative estimate. There could as many as 16."

"And how could I find these women and, you know, train them?"

"I see you have a Slayer fetish. It figures."

Xander got indignant. "I do not!" Then he saw Buffy and Willow smirking. "Okay. But it's not a fetish."

"This is why you could never be a Watcher," Patrick explained.

"No. That's because I'm not good with books and can't read other languages."

"Also, the fetish."

"It's not a fetish!"

"Whatever it isn't, they don't want a Watcher getting all hot for his nubile young charge. Talk about a potential abuse of power. They have tests designed to weed out those who stand any chance of being attracted to Slayers."

"What about Slayer's moms?," Buffy asked.

Patrick paused. "I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"We do a lot of that around here," Dawn said as she sat down.

"My point was, I expected Xander to have a thing for Slayers. It fits the profile perfectly."

"I fit a profile?"

"The profile of the Slayer's helpers. See, the whole Slayers fight alone, die alone, live with a secret identity' is not the only tradition. Plenty of Watchers realized Slayers would be more effective if they weren't isolated, if they had friends to help them, to give them moral support, to provide them with people to live for. It's more common than you might think."

Xander was excited. "You mean there actually IS a prophecy about a Chosen One and her friends?"

"More of an oral tradition.

"That report," Buffy mentioned, getting back on topic and away from trivia. "It said at some point I'm going to stop being a Slayer. How do they know that?"

"They don't. Not firsthand. But there are allusions to retired Slayers. And it makes sense. There was a time when didn't have Slayer power. One day, that power appeared. So one day, it should disappear. A fifty year-old vampire Slayer doesn't make much sense. Are you upset that you'll stop being a Slayer?"

"I've never thought about it, you know, because it's based on me living long enough for my action hero status to become ridiculous."

"Yes, well, that Slayers can lose their power and that few of them live long enough to find out are scientifically unrelated facts. Except from your prospective, by the way, have I mentioned I've spent a lot of time in the lab and therefore lack certain interpersonal skills?"

"No need to apologize. This isn't a social event," Buffy responded, being both friendly (by forgiving him) and cold (by reminding him they are not friends and probably never will be.) "You're hear to argue that everything I've learned about being a Slayer is wrong," she added skeptically.

"Not everything. Just the parts you had to take on faith. Didn't the idea that someone "made" Slayers strike you as self-serving mythology designed by men to keep Slayers in line?"

"I thought you were a scientist," Willow joked. "Not some lit-crit deconstructionist."

"Just cause it's p.c. doesn't automatically mean it's wrong. Look at it from a conservation of magical energy standpoint. There's been more than one Slayer for how many years now? How did the power double? How can one Slayer simultaneously keep it and pass it on to another."

"There are, ways of explaining that," Willow replied.

"You're forgetting something," Buffy jumped in. I've met the First Slayer. We summoned her power."

"You have her power," Patrick responded, dumbfounded.

"The source of her power," Willow added. "To defeat Adam."

"Interesting. I would have tried to lure him in a giant vat of sulfuric acid. But that's so much less interesting. How did you do this possession thing?"

"There was a spell. In Sumerian."

"Sumerian." He mulled this over, then looked satisfied. "You didn't summon the First Slayer. You summoned Inanna," he replied with dismissive certainty.

"Who?," Buffy asked.

"You know, Ishtar." Buffy looked very confused.

"I was possessed by a bad movie?"

"Not the movie. The goddess. Strength of 120 men. Able to defeat any demon or god. Took the human form of a teenage girl. I can see how one could get confused."

"Except that, when I saw her, she didn't look at all Sumerian. Not that I know what a Sumerian would look like. But, whatever that is, she wasn't it."

"I'm sure she could assume the form of any young woman, if it's like a racial thing or something. The Sumerians thought Inanna was the source of a Slayer's power. For obvious reasons. She's the ultimate protector. But also the ultimate sex symbol. Ironically, the fact that she's so powerful, which makes her so desirous, also makes all her relationships disastrous because no man can hope to be her equal. And the one who comes closest, she sends him to hell for a variety of reasons, but mostly because of the circumstances surrounding her own death and resurrection by a witch friend of hers. So, in a way, she's nothing like a real Slayer." Everyone's very quiet. Patrick wondered if it was something he said. "Also, she's spiteful and petty and destroys people, or whole towns, just to remind everyone that she's the most kickass thing around." He laughed weakly. "And hence was a parody of what could happen if a Slayer became completely independent and rebellious and amoral."

There was still a long pause, which worried Patrick. "Have you been keeping tabs on us?," Willow asked, articulating Buffy's suspicions.

"Hardly. I learned pretty quickly that trouble tended to follow you guys wherever you went, and I wasn't eager to be the anonymous bystander who got killed in the crossfire. Plus, each year at the beginning of May I leave town and spend the summer working at Brookhaven Labs in Long Island. And each September when I return I hear the weirdest stories from my friends about what happened while I was gone. Say what you will about the viciousness of the people who summer in the Hamptons, but their vampires and demons are pretty soft by Sunnydale standards."

"The Hamptons has vampires?," Dawn asked. "Do they ever attack the rich and famous?"

"They're sycophants, like everyone else out there. They'd rather hang around the stars than kill them. They feed off the nobodies. But only the weekenders, never the townies. Otherwise the locals would go after their lairs. Sometimes they create problems. Messed up a couple of P Diddy's and Jay-Z's big parties. Now their bodyguards have stakes and holy water in addition to Glock 9's. It's also why Puffy started wearing excessively large crosses around his neck. Keeps the vamps from sucking up to him, or sucking on him."

"How do you know all this?," Dawn wondered. "No offense, but you don't look like the type who hangs around celebrities."

"I don't. A few years ago when a big security outfit was figuring out how to deal with the vampire menace, someone told them I knew stuff and lived nearby. They called me. I told them to install a network of temperature sensors around a venue to instantly detect the vampires in their midst. They liked it. Hooked up a bunch of places. Never saw one cent myself, though. Should've signed a contract before I opened my mouth. But like I said, I didn't get in this for the money."

"Of course not. You're into demons purely for knowledge, enlightenment, and to help your fellow man," Buffy replied sarcastically.

"I've never claimed I do this out of the goodness of my heart. There's plenty of self-interest, and ego, in me. Knowledge is power. To know something no one else in the world knows, to be the first in the world to discover something, that's like a gold medal or a Super Bowl or an Oscar. Just like anybody else, I take a certain amount of selfish pride in my achievements."

"So that's what this is? Taking pride in showing off your knowledge to us?," Buffy asked pointedly.

"In part, yes. But that's not the main reason. After all, I wouldn't have spent months trying to earn your trust while getting accused of being a mad scientist if I was doing this out of ego. I'm here on behalf of others. The Counter-Council keeps bugging me about reaching out to you. They think the one who will destroy the Council. Not directly, but by proving the organization's irrelevant. There are two living Slayers, and the Council has control over neither. Without anyone to watch, a Watcher's Council lacks a reason for being."

"Great. Just what I need. More people I've never even met putting more responsibilities on my shoulders."

"It's like they expect you to do anything except what you're already doing. The one they want is Giles. He won't talk to them. Doesn't trust them for various ethical reasons. The Counter-Council wants to find and train the dozen-or-so uncalled Slayers they think are out there. But they can't. Not without the magics to find them. All these guys were expelled before they advanced far enough up the hierarchy to learn those special secrets. Once they can call all those Slayers, the Council will be discredited. Slayers won't have to die as a matter of policy. It'll a whole new world."

"You make it all sound so deceptively easy."

"I'm sure it won't be easy convincing girls to risk their lives when they know they're not the only one. There's also the unsettling long-term possibility of gene therapy to make even more Slayers. Or getting sperm and egg from a man and a woman who are carriers of the Slayer gene and making dozens of Slayer Sisters in vitro. There's always a dark side."

"Like cloning vampires."

"Okay. Point taken. But it's one thing to experiment on demons, and another thing entirely to do the same with human beings. I do draw lines. Hard as that may be for some of your to believe at the moment."