Dawn was out walking with Elijah. "You really don't see anything wrong with strolling through a cemetery at night," Dawn asked him.

"Should I be afraid of ghosts attacking me?"

"Ghosts aren't what I'm worried about." Elijah was on Dawn's left. She tore a branch from a tree with her right hand and held the makeshift stake behind her back. "Do you do this a lot?"

"Occasionally, every now and then. It's a nice quiet place to think. The white marble glistens in the moonlight. Gravestones look like hundreds of little stars fallen to earth. And they all tell a story. Families, three and four generations, buried together. Some die old. Some die young. You wonder about the young ones, why they went so soon. For instance, why so many here didn't live to see 30."

"And you've never encountered anyone, anything, at night, out here?"

"Couple times some kids came through. Other than that, nothing." Dawn found this very strange. Just then a vampire leaped at her carelessly from the right. She staked it in midair.

"Did you hear something," Elijah asked Dawn.

"Nope."

"Probably just the wind. You seem nervous. You're not scared being out in a graveyard at night, are you?"

"I'm not the one who should be scared."

"Okay then. Wanna play it spooky, be my guest. But the last thing I'm scared of is the dead." Just then a vampire leaped at Elijah, knocking him on his back. The vampire held him down and prepared to bite him. Dawn kicked the vampire twice in the chest. It rolled off Elijah. Before it could stand up, Dawn kicked it in the face. The vampire fell back, then stood up and faced Dawn. The vampire charged. She threw it to the ground and staked it. She dropped the stake and went over to Elijah.

"Elijah, are you alright?" The dazed boy stood up before she could help him to his feet.

"I'm fine. No problem here. Just a little frazelled by the sudden takedown. What was wrong with that guy?"

"It was nothing. I scared him away."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe we should go someplace else. Indoors perhaps."

Patrick, Willow and Xander looked through the books at the Magic Box. "These things are horribly indexed. I'm amazed you find anything," Patrick muttered.

"Found anything," Buffy asked.

"I have," Patrick replied. But it's nothing I don't know already," he added snobbily.

"I found something new," Xander said. "I'm sure it won't help us, and I wish now I hadn't read it. It says these Mausolus guys turn themselves into eunuchs."

"Only those belonging to the Higher Degrees," Patrick explained. "The rest just take vows of celibacy. All part of their goal of transcending the physical."

"I see why most vamps steer clear of this cult," Xander joked.

"So should we be on the on the lookout for vampires with really high, squeaky voices," Willow asked Patrick.

"Vampires don't produce testosterone, or any other endocrine hormone, so it wouldn't affect their vocal chords. So how do you have access to this place?"

"Our friend Anya owns the store," Buffy explains, stretching the meaning of friend in her case. "There's a training room and some weapons in back."

"So the store's basically a front for your operation," Patrick concluded.

Xander felt insulted. "A front? What do you think we are, the mob?"

"I don't mean to sound pejorative. But it makes perfect sense. You have weapons, magical supplies, ample research materials, and you can use it to make money to fund Buffy's mission."

"Fund Buffy," Buffy asked. "No, this place only funds Anya. It's her store. She's very big about that. It used to be my Watcher's, but the he left town and - "

"Anya's not the sharing type, when it comes to the money," Willow added. "Sharing would seem uncapitalist and therefore evil to her."

Patrick had an idea. "Doesn't have to seem uncapitalist. Buffy, you could always charge her insurance. I'm aware of the short life expectancy of those who own this store. I also know the entrance used to be half-a-story below ground and then it was street-level and no one noticed the change, but that's another matter. My point is, no owner of this store has died in two-and-a-half years, which must be something of a record. I assume that's because of you, Buffy."

"Are you suggesting Buffy set up a protection racket," Willow asked.

"Okay, you are saying we should be like the mob," Xander realized.

"I'm joking," Patrick responded. "After all, if you charged Anya insurance, she could charge you rent for using the training room. And all that would seem unseemly between friends. I'm just having fun letting my mind wonder while I search for something valuable. And I think I've found it."

"Found what," Buffy asked.

"Possibly the reason why they're here. Before the endtime can begin, the Temple must be rebuilt. That's happened. Then a second Ninth Degree Master must be created. The ceremony must require two people."

"You need to show me where they are," Buffy ordered.

That evening, Anya was with Sterling, having dinner at Aiden and Kamillah's house. It was a large, expensively-furnished home, and Anya liked what she saw. "I must tell you two, I'm very impressed with the decor."

"You should compliment Kamillah," Aiden said. "She picked it all out. And paid for most of it."

"What is it you do for a living," Anya asked Kamillah.

"I'm a lawyer."

"Neat. I like lawyers," Anya responded.

"Don't hear that one very often," Kamillah quipped.

"You make money hurting bad people. I have great respect for that." In Anya's mind, lawyers made piles of money exacting vengeance. Plus, they knew the rules everyone had to live by, and this knowledge gave them power.

"Actually, most of the big money's made helping bad people," Kamillah noted.

"That's not what you do, is it?"

"No, I help good people and occasionally try to hurt bad people. Not that I'm tilting at windmills and crusading for righteousness. I'm not that naive. But I try to balance making money and making a difference. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"I get it," Anya responded. "Making money isn't enough. There's also power. As a lawyer, you have power. And you feel a need to use that power to help the powerless."

"That's an interesting way of looking at it," Kamillah commented.

"Makes writing briefs and reading footnotes to appellate decisions almost sound exciting," Aiden joked.

"Like any legit job's exciting," Sterling added. "They're all a grind after a while. That's why it's called work."

"The roofing business not agreeing with you," Aiden asked.

"No. It's fine, as work goes. I'm outside, I'm actually building things, I like the guys I work with. So it's cool. But it's not like we sing Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to work we go' as we do it. Who does?"

"Well, there was that one day . . . oh, never mind," Anya replied. "Did I tell you what a lovely house you have? And in such a charming locale."

"You should see my neighborhood," Sterling proposed. "It's in Oceanside. Actually, it is oceanside, right on the beach. The house isn't much, just a bungalow, or more accurately a shack. But the view's great."

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask you guys something. Last week I met this teenager who claimed he's played with the two of you. Little guy, blonde, easily impresed. Said his name was Elijah."

"Yeah we know Eli," Aidan said. Anya was surprised.

"Used to play with him sometimes until he outgrew us," Sterling added. Anya was even more surprised.

"But he's just a kid."

"Physically, yes. Musically, no," Aiden explained. "He's like some prodigy. We did some improv stuff with him, stretch out, see where the music takes us. The sort of experimental stuff you don't do onstage. But after a while we could barely keep up. All these modalities, polyrhythms, cross-rhythms, chord changes ever measure, wacky 13/16 time signatures. We're not at that level. He has that whole jazz background. We're just not that sophisticated."

"Great kid, though," Sterling commented. "Real nice."

"And he buys a lot of stuff at my store," Aiden added. "Helps keep me in business."

Dawn and Elijah were back at the Summers house. Elijah was going through a stack of records on the living room floor next to the television. "Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Nick Drake. Patti Smith! Someone in this family has great taste in music."

"Those were my mom's records."

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up. You must miss her. My father died before I had the chance to know him. But for you, it was different." He sat down on the couch next to Dawn.

"I didn't know that about your father. What happened?"

"Car accident. When I was two. Back when we lived in Portland. Mom remarried when I was eight. We moved here when I was ten."

"How did you handle the new man in your mom's life? Had to be rough."

"We have an understanding. He doesn't pretend to be my father, I don't pretend to love him. We have a chilly but stable entente. Could have been worse. They could have had kids together. Then I would have really been on the outside. Good thing Sunnydale has a one-child policy."

"What do mean by that?"

"Haven't you noticed? Just about everyone in this town's an only child, you and your sister excepted. Look around."

Dawn thought about this. Janice, Brandon, both only children. Xander, Willow, same thing. If there were two siblings, chances were one of them wouldn't make it to adulthood. But Dawn didn't feel jinxed. She wasn't exactly Buffy's real sister. "I see your point," she told Elijah.

Patrick led Buffy, Willow and Xander to the temple and the mansion it was built near. "This is the house where Jonathan lived, when he cast that spell," Willow noted.

"Jonathan Levin," Patrick asked.

"You know him," Buffy asked.

"No. But I remember one day a kid with that name got a MacAuthur Genius Grant, and a few days later it was like he never existed. Was he a figment?"

"Actually, he's a real person," Buffy explained. "It was an idealization spell, made everyone think he was perfect for a time."

"Altering the very fabric of reality to get people to like you. Must've been as powerful as he was insecure. Dangerous combination. Now here's the temple." It was in a grove, shielded from the rest of the estate by a ring of trees. He took them around to its front. It was built with a mixture of gray and black stone. At its base, on all sides, were three white steps. "I believe there's a basement underneath the temple, and that's where they sleep. The mansion was completely deserted during the day. I think they only use it at night."

The temple was 20 feet tall, a little more than 30 feet wide, and a little more than 50 feet long. At the four corners were three-foot thick black pilasters. Black stone ran along the tops and bottoms, with gray stone in the middle, framed by the black stone. At the front of the temple were bronze double-doors, together about five feet in width. Along the top, above the black stone, were tri-glyphs and metopes, in the Doric style. On the metopes were carved friezes. There were 46 of them around the perimeter of the temple.

Patrick explained some more. "The height, width and length follow the Golden Ratio. And the carvings up top, they're full of Mausolus iconography. That was the giveaway. I'm trying to decipher them. I think they'll explain what these guys are going to do."

"Why would they advertise their plans like that," Xander asked.

"It's part of what they have to do. It makes the sanctuary theirs. To do its job, the Temple has to fit exacting specifications laid out thousands of years ago. Plus, they don't think anyone can stop them."

"So they don't know they're in my town," Buffy asked. "I thought these guys were big on the knowledge."

"They know the Slayer's in the neighborhood. They just don't think you can come to grips with them."

"Well we'll see about that. You said they're in the mansion at night. I'm going in to pay them a visit."

"I'm sure they have guards standing watch," Patrick predicted.

"Yes. And I'll kill them." Buffy walked out of the grove. She circled clockwise around the property, keeping near the tree covering to hide her presence. They were about 100 yards from the back of the mansion.

Xander pulled out his binoculars and took a look. "There's someone on the roof. I think he's got a gun."

Buffy had an idea. "Then I'll take him out."

"You can hit him from this range," Patrick asked.

"Probably not. I'll need to get closer. You and Xander create a diversion to distract him while I move within range."

"You want us to draw his fire," Patrick asked, rather worried. But Xander didn't seemed to be frightened. So he went along. They moved clockwise to the side of the building.

"You do this sort of thing often," Patrick asked.

"Buffy knows what she's doing. She won't let us get hurt." Then Patrick had an idea.

"I know how to distract him. Go away from me, try to get close to the building. I promise he won't notice you. Just keep you distance from me. Trust me. I know vampires. I know how to signal them." Xander didn't know what was up. But he got away from Patrick, and slowly approached the building. Patrick crouched behind a tree, pulled out a whistle, and started blowing. Xander couldn't hear anything. But he looked through his binoculars, and could see that the vampire heard Patrick. Xander moved closer and closer, and the vampire didn't even notice him. He got right of to the windows, and tried to see in.

Meanwhile, Buffy moved to within 40 yards. She aimed her crossbow. Willow stood behind her with a backup crossbow. Buffy fired. It hit the vampire in the chest, but didn't pierce his heart. He turned in Buffy's direction and fired his gun. Xander noticed it was unusually quiet. The shot missed. Willow handed Buffy the other crossbow. Buffy aimed. But the vampire fired first. The bullet glanced off Buffy's crossbow and hit Willow in the left side of her neck. Buffy fired. This shot hit its mark. The vampire tumbled off the roof and disintegrated in midair. All that hit the ground was dust.

Buffy turned around. Willow was grabbing her neck. "Willow were you hit?"

"I think so."

"We have to get you to a hospital."

"No, I'm fine. It's okay."

"You were shot with a bullet!"

"No. It felt more like . . . a b-b. See?" She showed Buffy her tiny wound. Xander and Patrick came over. Willow explained what had happened.

"I thought that sounded like a pellet gun," Xander replied. "I got to the windows, but I couldn't see through the curtains. By the way Patrick, how'd you distract the vampire?"

Patrick pulled out his whistle. "It's like a dog whistle, only a slightly different frequency. Only vampires with their super ears can hear it. I play a sort of bird call. Gets their attention."

"Glad you could be of use out in the field," Buffy told him. "Now that the guard's out of the way, I say we storm the place."

"But we don't even know how many of them are in there," Patrick argued.

"That's why we should go in and find out. It's a probing mission, not a fight to the death." Buffy approached the house. The others followed, Patrick rather reluctantly. Buffy and Willow reloaded their crossbows. "I fire. I go in. You three back me up. No heroics. Play it safe for now."

A vampire came running to Manu. "How dare you interrupt me at this most propitious moment," Manu bellowed.

"Master, I believe the Slayer has arrived. She's killed the sentry."

"Release the hounds."

Buffy and friends heard barking. Then they saw ten dogs racing towards them. "Are those supposed to be demon dogs," Xander asked.

Buffy didn't think so. "They look like non-demon dobermans to me."

"Non-demon. But still ferocious," Willow observed. "And they appear to be hungry."

"I'm not trained to fight doggies. Specially not this many doggies, with this meager an arsenal."

"Does that mean run away," Patrick asked.

"I think pull back and regroup is a more dignified term," Buffy answered. Patrick sprinted away. Willow and Xander followed. Buffy came last, in case she had to hold off the dobermans. As they ran away, the dobermans slowed. They didn't pursue into the forest, and hung by the edge of the lawn, barking loudly and ensuring that the intruders did not return.

"Besides, I don't know if it's right for me to kill doggies," Buffy wondered. "Even if they did want to rip me to shreds, and even if they appear to be owned by vampires, they're not demons."

"I'm surprised the dogs weren't out when I came during the day," Patrick noted.

"So next time we come prepared with an armload of t-bone steaks," Xander joked. "Maybe some nice juicy sausage links." They started walking away.

"You make it sound like the Temple's the heart of their operation," Buffy said to Patrick.

"That's where they're going to destroy the world."

"Then all we have to do is break into the Temple, or knock it down, and we win," Xander proposed.

"It's not that easy. There's two sets of thick bronze doors in front. The roof's wood, but overlaid with copper and topped with marble tile. And the stone walls are three feet thick."

"Say what you will about their philosophy, but these Mausolus vampires sure know construction," Xander quipped.

"You'd need some pretty heavy firepower to bust through all that," Patrick added.

"We have a rocket launcher," Xander noted. "Would that work?"

"No. The explosive charge is too small. It would barely make a dent. And did you say you have a rocket launcher? How and why did you acquire that?"

"I used it to kill the Judge," Buffy told Patrick. "They said no weapon forged could harm him, so I had to think outside the box."

"Actually, it was my idea," Xander noted proudly.

Patrick had heard of the Judge. "The demon who kills all creatures with souls? Someone reassembled him? Was it a vampire? Cause if it was, they'd have to be crazy."

"Two-for-two." Buffy answered.

Patrick was mystified. "That is so stupid. A vampire has the Judge vaporize all the humans, it destroy its own food supply. Makes no sense, even from the point-of-view of an evil soulless killer. Like cutting off your nose to spite your face. Course no one ever said vampires were bright creatures. But a rocket launcher! That's some nifty thinking. Sure didn't have those when the Mongols killed it the first time around."

"Excuse me. What do the Mongols have to do with this," Willow asked.

"It took an army," Xander said to himself. "It took the Mongol army?"

"I guess you guys don't know the whole story. Wizards working for the Teutonic Knights in 1241 built the Judge as a superweapon to defeat the Mongols at the Battle of Leignitz."

"But wouldn't it also have killed the Knights and everyone else around," Willow asked. "I mean, talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face."

"The Judge can only kill what is in front of it. The Germans stood behind the demon, and the Supreme Wizard controlled the creature to keep it from turning around and harming its creators. But the Mongols weren't fazed. They always came into battle were prepared for any eventuality, and sent one-hundred of their finest warriors to make quick work of the creature. 50 Mongols showered the demon with arrows to distract it, riding back and forth too fast for the Judge to target them. Covered by this diversion, 50 horsemen with lassos approached the Judge. Ten of them tied their lassos round each arm, ten round each leg, and ten round its head. They rode away in perfect synchronization, each group of ten in a different direction. The Judge was torn into six pieces.

"A battle ensued, and the Teutonic Knights and the rest of the German forces were annihilated. The anniversary of the battle is still celebrated in Poland. Not because the Judge was destroyed, but because the Germans got their asses kicked. After the battle, the Mongols tortured the wizards to find out what the Judge was. Then they killed the wizards and destroyed their records so no such creature could ever be built again. The six pieces of the Judge, its arms, legs, head and chest, were buried in the far corners of the vast Mongol empire."

"How bout that. So the Mongols really weren't so bad after all," Xander mused.

"The Judge did seem kind of stiff and serious and Teutonic," Willow remembered. "But how'd you learn all this stuff? We didn't find anything that exciting when we were doing research."

"Probably cause you only had access to the European sources. Just about every European who knew about the Judge died on that battlefield, so in Europe only the barest details survived. The good sources are all Chinese, compiled and preserved by the Chinese Watcher's Council. When they were absorbed into the London Council, they were shocked and appalled when that Council began destroying all their records. The London Council didn't want anyone to know there were once other Councils. When the Chinese Watchers realized this, they took what remained of their records and hid them away in remote monasteries. The material didn't become available in English until a few decades ago, and even today only a few people know about them. Fortunately, I know a few of those people."

"Lassos," Buffy asked. "They killed this thing by corralling it like some bull at the rodeo?"

"Rope isn't forged, and thus could harm him," Patrick responded. "I still don't know how you procured your heavy weaponry."

"I stole it from the local military base."

"From Camp Pendleton? How'd you pull THAT off?"

"There was a Halloween where we became our costumes, and I was dressed up as a soldier. So I became military guy, and gained all this inside knowledge."

"I remember that," Patrick replied. "I didn't dress up, so I didn't change. But a friend of mine went to a party as Albert Einstein, and afterwards he told me he was THIS close to proving General Relativity when he got changed back. To me, that's the craziest thing about this town. Not the demons, but the occasional mass hysteria. Demons are supposed to act nuts. Ordinary people acting nuts, that's something special. Odd how those things always pass before too many people get hurt."

Anya and Sterling went back to her place. "Sterl, are you growing tired of me?"

"Am I what! Why would you even think that?"

"You don't seem to want me the way you once did. It's been three nights since we've made love."

"You know I had that gig on Tuesday. And this morning I had to get up at five to make it to my job site in Riverside. So I couldn't stay over last night."

"Is something wrong with me? It's my hair isn't it? I knew you didn't like me going dark."

"Anya I love it. I think it's perfect for you. Brings out your luminescent eyes, your finely-sculpted cheekbones. And believe me when I say I could never tire of you. You don't think I also missed you these last two nights?" He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "Anya, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"So this is your plan? Sweet talk me and hold me in your arms, and I'm just going to swoon? Well I have news for you mister. I don't swoon. That said, I have been known on occasion to go a little wobbly in the knees while in close proximity to a gorgeous hunk of a man who desperately wants me, and would do anything to make me happy."

"You're talking about me, I hope."

"I'd like to think I was."

"Just checking." Then they kissed.

As they walked back, Patrick started chuckling. "What's so funny," Willow asked him.

"Nothing. Just thinking about Buffy's tactic of choice, the sudden charge. Impetuous, yet since you've survived this long, obviously very effective for you. It was the same way with Joan of Arc. Except for the surviving part, but that wasn't on the battlefield."

"Lousy, witch-burning men," Willow muttered.

"Think about it," Patrick told the gang. "Teenage girl. Small but powerful. Fierce fighter. Wounded often but always healed quickly. Thinks it's her destiny to save the world."

"Are you implying Joan of Arc was a Slayer," Willow asked.

"Noooo. Noooooo. You're joking. You're kidding, right," Buffy asked, excited but skeptical.

"Technically, no. She was never called by any Council, and she never slayed vampires. But like I said, most young women with Slayer Power are never called, and most never experience the enormous physical stress needed to discover their potential power. But imagine 16 year-old Joan, attacked by some English soldiers who are pillaging her village. She struggles, and fights for her life, and clobbers them. She can't believe her own strength. She realizes she's special, and wonders why. She's a religious girl, so the answer's obvious. God has given her this power for a reason. She is God's chosen instrument to drive away the English, who were sucking France dry like so many vampires. She thinks she's the Chosen One."

"Wow. First the Mongols fight the Judge and now Joan of Arc's a Slayer," Xander marveled. "History can be so not boring when you put demons and stuff in it."

"It would explain so much," Patrick continued. "Joan's confidence. Her refusal to cede command to any man. Her belief in her own innate superiority."

"Okay, yeah yeah, I get the similarities," Buffy muttered.

Patrick went on. "Her fearlessness in battle. Taking on and defeating much larger male opponents. Her charismatic ability to rally tens of thousands of demoralized, defeated men and turn them into victors."

"What man WOULDN'T risk his life to follow a Slayer into battle," Xander commented, perhaps referencing his own fearlessness when around Buffy.

"Just so you know, Xander, there was no likeness of Joan produced during her lifetime, so no one is sure what she looked like. All that's known is that she was short and petite and had short brown or black hair. And on account of being a Servant of God, she was a virgin, and the soldiers never looked at her in that way. Plus, it's hard for a lady to look comely when covered head-to-toe in armor."

"You think I'm having sex fantasies about Joan of Arc? Oh, please! I'm not. Really, I'm not. I mean it. I'm not."

"He really does protest too much," Patrick joked to Willow and Buffy.

Buffy and Willow came home. "Hey Dawny, what's up," Willow asked. "And who's this handsome fellow?"

"This is Elijah. We were just hanging out."

"I think I better go now," Elijah told Dawn.

"Don't be so quick to bolt," Buffy told him. "Relax. I hear you're a smart guy."

Elijah didn't know whether this was a compliment or a prelude to some sort of scolding. "I guess so."

"You skipped a grade, right?"

"Yeah. Sixth grade. But I don't like to make a big deal out of it. It's nothing, really."

"You're a musician."

"I play a few instruments. Saxophone, piano, some guitar. Mostly jazz. Some rock. I do have a rock band, but I'm not a wild, rocker kind of guy. Dawn's a very nice young woman. I respect her greatly. You don't have to worry about me trying anything untoward with her."

"Relax kiddo. I'm not here to give you the third degree."

"What courses do you take," Willow asked. "Any honors or APs?"

"AP Physics, AP Chem, Calculus BC, AP Government, AP English."

"Does Mrs. Renkin still teach Chem," Willow asked.

"Yep."

"Does she still wander into her office in the middle of lectures?"

"Oh yeah. And then there are the times she's writing a formula and runs out of space on the board and writes on the tile next to the blackboard."

"She did that when I was there. Guess she's still nutty as always."

"A little nuttiness helps keep you awake during second period."

"Don't I know it. Especially during the lectures on the synthesis of different benzene molecules."

"We haven't gotten to that yet. Something to look forward to sleeping through, I guess."

"Just remember. During the lab where you mix magnesium hydroxide with hydrochloric acid, it's .2 moles, not 2 moles of magnesium. Someone in my class made that mistake and nearly blew the room up."

"Well, with 2 moles, that's not surprising, considering all the hydrogen that would be released into the air. Good thing that student wasn't a smoker."

"Cause them kaboom," Willow said, laughing. Buffy and Dawn were feeling a little out of place.

"You must be Willow. Nice meeting you. And nice meeting you as well, Buffy. It's late. I should be going. I had fun tonight, Dawn. See you around."

"I had fun too, Elijah. It was nice talking to you. Have a good night."

"You too. Catch you later." Then he left.

"Okay, you two were going off on some nerd tangent that was utterly unintelligible to us normals. What was that all about, Buffy asked Willow."

"Sorry, but I couldn't help myself. He's so adorable."

"Definite cutie," Buffy added. "Especially for a brainiac."

"For the hundredth time, we're not dating. Elijah's my friend. That's all."

Willow didn't understand. "Come on Dawny, he seems perfect."

Buffy agreed. "Smart, sweet, cute, sensitive - is he sensitive?"

"Yes. Actually, he's very sensitive. And caring."

"See, he's perfect," Buffy reiterated. "I can't find a single thing wrong with him."

"He likes strolling through cemeteries at night."

"What," Buffy asked, stunned. "You mean he also kills vampires? That's even more perfect."

"He's never seen a vampire. Takes frequent nighttime walks through Sunnydale graveyards, cause he finds them peaceful. And he's never come across a single vampire. How's that possible?"

"I don't know," Buffy replied. "I really don't."

"We found some tonight. I killed two. One he didn't see. The other knocked him down and I killed it and saved him. I don't think he knew what it was. But he seemed sufficiently shaken not to hang around cemeteries ever again."

"It's always awkward when you have to save your boyfriend's life on the first date," Buffy recalled.

"He's not my boyfriend, it wasn't a date, and we've hung out before, so it wasn't really anything other than what we normally do together. Except when I saved his life, but he was real cool about that. He already suspected I could beat him up, so me defending him wasn't a blow to his manhood. Elijah's a great guy. But he's not my boyfriend."

"That's a pity," Buffy told Dawn. "Sweet, sensitive, smart, secure, cute, and comfortable with the slayage. Guys like that don't come along every day."

"I know. I already have one," Dawn replied archly. "I think this is the point when you tell me to go upstairs and do my homework. I'll save you the trouble." She went to her room.

"Girl's got attitude," Willow told Buffy.

"She spent so much time feeling sorry for herself, I never got around to teaching her that too much self-confidence can be a bad thing."

"She's changed so much. Ever since you-know-who. Course she still gets on your nerves the way a kid sister should."

"She went from whiny to catty, but she remains annoying."

"Same old Dawny."

"Maybe when she learns to lay off the attitude I'll tell her how proud I am of her. How's your neck doing?"

"Hardly even notice it."

"I should help you remove the pellet." They went to the upstairs bathroom. Buffy looked at the wound under the light. Couldn't see anything. She felt Willow's neck. No bump near the entry wound. No little metal bump at all. They concluded it must have bounced right off her skin upon impact.