A/N: Hey. Sorry this took so long. Anyway. It's short, i know... but i'm still adding, so another chapter will be up sooner than this one took. & it should be worth the wait, cause this one isn't. sorry.

Xander couldn't say he minded his job. As a part of working for the council, he seemed to be spending a good deal of his time traveling. Every other week, he was off to some foreign destination, with the task of bringing back one, or several new Slayers.

Traveling the world with beautiful girls. What more can one ask for?

Well, there was more. There was the love of his life, for starters. His wonderful Anya, who, like many others, had died that fateful day one year ago.

Anya.

The thought of her name brought a tear to his eye. He wiped it away quickly. Then he adjusted the collar of his shirt and looked ahead of him. A set of large, wooden doors met his gaze. He pushed them forward and stepped into the meeting room beyond them.

"Xander. I'm glad you're here," came Giles' voice from the end of the long conference table. Beside Giles, sat another man, Sir Nigel, Xander knew him as. He was the head of the newly formed Council.

"Giles. Nigel. What can I do for you fine gentlemen," Xander said with an overly bright smile. He sat down next to Giles, who was going through various papers and books. Xander noticed for the first time that similar books were spread out to almost the midpoint of the table.

"It has come to our attention that a great mystical force is converging… Some malevolent being, in Los Angeles."

"LA?" Xander questioned, straightening his posture.

"Now, now." Giles said, reading his expression. "There's no reason to believe Angel is involved—"

"Not that we've ruled that out," Sir Nigel interjected. "We're keeping all possibilities open."

"I see." Xander said, tapping his fingers together in an expression of deep thought. The truth was, he was considering what he should have for lunch. After a few moments, he let his mind wander back to the topic at hand. "What do you think it is?"

"We've really no idea," Sir Nigel said with a sigh. He let his hands rest on the edge of the table.

Besides Xander, Giles spoke, "Well, there are some of us with theories on the matter."

"Nonsense!" Sir Nigel waved a hand at Giles. With an annoyed look, Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them. "Just another one of your wild goose chases, Rupert, which I will not have."

"Yes, right."

"Now. If you excuse me, I have to make a pot of tea."

With that, Sir Nigel rose and started across the room. He had barely turned into the hallway when Xander turned to face Giles.

"Tea? He had to make tea?"

"Don't question it," Giles said as he put his glasses back in place.

"Fine. Like they say, 'Never get in the way of a British man and his tea' … or was it crumpets?"

"Whatever the case may be, we haven't the time to discuss it."

Giles closed the book in front of him, and for the first time Xander saw the title: Trickery & Distractions. He smirked.

Ripper, old boy. Nice job.

"So, why the distraction?" Xander inquired.

"The theory I was mentioning. It's more than that. I'm almost positive it's the answer to whatever it is that is happening in LA."

"What's that?"

Xander prepared himself.

"If I'm correct, I fear it is… The Old Ones."

Xander shook his head, taking it in.

"Uh huh. Well… That sounds… creepy? Yea, definitely creepy… And, um—"

"You don't understand. They are the original. The First—"

"Woah, what about the First?"

"The First created evil some millennia ago… This was the evil it created."

"The first the First made? Like… Ok. If they were in line, the Old Ones, they'd be what? Second?"

"Assuming I'm following your logic, yes. They're the oldest demons to exist. Banished from the plane some time ago, and now, through some incredible act of magic, they've returned."

"How do you know? I mean, are you positive? Have you asked the seers about it?"

"Of course we've asked the seers."

"And?"

"And? Do you know what it's like to watch someone rip their eyes out?"

The sentence had left his mouth before he could stop it, and afterwards, left him with nothing but stunned silence. Giles lowered his head, bringing it back nearly a full minute later. His face was solemn.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that…"

"It's alright. I'd rather you forget than be too cautious."

"I only meant it as…"

"Giles. It's fine… Just finish your story."

"Yes. Right. Like I was saying… Only a vision, so powerful—of pure evil, could evoke such a response."

"That's why makes you suspect these guys, right? The dead ones?"

"Old Ones. And yes."

"Alright… so what do we do?"

"Well, as you've seen, the council is less than ready to even entertain the idea. And if I'm right, this will take us before they even realize it. That's why I'm going to send you to Cleveland with the Slayers. Faith's already been notified. She'll need the back up."

"How are you going to get us out without the council knowing?"

"You leave that to me."

"Ok. Just let me know who to take." Xander replied, as he stood up. Giles did as well.

"All of them."

Xander almost found himself sitting again.

"All of them? As in, every single one?"

"You'll need to."

"How'll I get them out?"

"I'll tell Buffy, and I'm sure the Immortal will have some way of transporting them there. You just get the girls ready, have them pack bags, weapons, anything they'll need."

"Xan-Man to the rescue!" Xander saluted Giles, before spinning on his heels and heading out of the room.

Once he had left, Giles turned to the dozens of books. He'd gone over all of them, some twice, and still he had no idea how to face what was ahead of them. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Behind him, another door into the room opened.

"Oh, Christina." Giles said as the young, blonde-haired woman came into the room. "I was about to come see you."

"Hello Mr. Giles," Christina said with a bright smile. "There's a telephone call for you." Christina held out a cordless phone, her hand over the receiver.

"Thank you," Giles said, taking the phone from her. Christina smiled, and headed out through the door she'd just entered from. When she was gone, Giles brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Rupert! It's Andrew. Hi."

"Oh, hello Andrew. What can I do for you?"

"It's important. Something evil's in Angel and LA's come to Italy."

"What?"

"Wait. No. There's something evil in... Oh! There's something evil in LA. And Angel is here.

"Angel? In Italy?"

"Yea… He got here a little while ago, I think. Whatever's in LA's pretty big and he got here in a hurry."

"I see… Andrew, where are you?"

"I'm at home. Alone. Kennedy went to talk to Buffy and Willow's at Wolfram and Hart."

"She's where?"

"Yea. She went to see Angel. I think she trusts him."

"Andrew, why didn't you try to stop her?"

"Are you kidding? Willow's like Mega-Wicca."

"Alright… Where are you now?"

"I'm just here, at home. By myself… nobody but me." Andrew let out a sigh, and Giles rolled his eyes on the other end of the phone.

"Andrew, I want you to stay there. But let me know the second you hear anything."

"Alright, Mr. Giles. T. T. F. N.!"

"Umm… yes. Good bye, Andrew."

Giles clicked the line dead, placing the headset down on the table. With a breath, he pulled another book towards him. He ran his fingers over the bumpy, engraved cover. Then he flipped it open to the first page and began reading.

Buffy left the solarium, her head still buzzing. Kennedy was waiting for her, arms crossed, leaning against one of the hallways paneled walls.

"Buffy." Kennedy said, when the other Slayer nearly walked right past her. Buffy turned quickly. "Are you ok?"

"What? No. I'm fine." Buffy gave a small smile. Her head still felt like it was being ripped in two, the thoughts of what she wanted to do and would do, each occupying a half. "Just a little headache."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"What? Where?"

Angel, her mind repeated.

"Buffy, are you sure you're—"

"Yes." Buffy cut her off quickly. "I'm fine. We have to go."

Pushing her blonde hair away from her face, Buffy set off down the corridor. Kennedy stared at her for a moment, before following behind the elder Slayer. Moments later, they'd made their way outside and were nearly running down the sunbathed drive. At this rate, they'd be at Wolfram and Hart in no more then ten minutes.

"Where are we going, Mr. Xander," asked Annette, an English girl of about fifteen. She held a pink and yellow knapsack close against her chest. Her big green eyes peered up at Xander.

"Just a little trip," Xander said with a smile. Then he stepped around her and made his way to the center of the dormitory.

At either of his sides, twin beds had been set up along opposite walls, and ran the length of the room. In all, there were about a hundred beds, and about a hundred girls. Another thirty, maybe fourty, occupied the loft area over the right wall. In his mind, Xander couldn't help but think that it resembled an old prison, or juvenile detention center.

Or Annie's orphanage, he told himself. With a pained look, he began to speak, immediately gaining the rooms attention.

"Alright everyone, listen up. Take only what you'll need, I'm talking a change of clothes and weapons. Nothing that isn't absolutely necessary."

"What about a hair dryer," he heard someone say. And judging by the silence afterwards, he knew they hadn't been kidding around.

"Unless it has a flamethrower function, no. Leave it."

There was a wave of sighs, and Xander could hear several backpacks being zippered open. He shook his head, and walked towards the door to the dormitory. It was slightly ajar, enough so that Xander could take a look out, onto the landing. Everything seemed okay, there were no guards or Sir Nigel running up the stairs, which was a good sign. With a breath of satisfaction, he shut the door the rest of the way. He turned to face the girls.

"Alright, guys. Just get your stuff together, and once your done sit and wait quietly… We'll be out of her shortly."

Hands in pockets, he grinned at himself. He'd become so professional, and it was while doing such an impractical job.

Man, Giles. What are you planning?

Willow took a sip from her glass of ice cold water. Once she was done, she held it close to her face, exhaling deeply so that she could watch the white swirls rise from within the cup. After they'd danced through the air for a few seconds, she placed the cup down on Ilona's desk.

"So," Willow said slowly. It was the first word she'd muttered in at least ten minutes. "What exaclty happened in LA?"

Spike scoffed. "What didn't?" He took a drag of a recently lit cigarette and walked in her direction. He sat on Ilona's desk, so that he was across from Willow. "Basic fact of the matter, is that yours truly," he motioned to the room at large, meaning to indicate Wolfram and Hart. "…has unleashed all matter of hell on us."

"It's a little more complicated than that," Angel said, taking the step forwards. "You see, what had happened is the Senior Partners. We, kind of, killed their inner circle. And as a reward, they—"

"Unleashed hell on earth?" Spike offered to finish the statement.

"Well… It's still a bit more complicated than that."

"Not really," Gunn said from an arm chair in the corner.

"So, the Senior Parnters did this," Willow thought aloud. Then she looked up at Angel, her eyes full of sorrow. Sorrow about what she had to ask next. "…And that means, that… That you really didn't have anything to do with this, right?"

Spike was about to make a smart remark, when the realization of what Willow had said, hit him. It sounded as if she actually thought Angel might've been the one behind this.

"Willow." Angel tried to find some sort of response. "Did you think…"

Willow shook her head.

"I'm sorry… But, it's just that. With everything… and you, working here."

"No, it's… I understand."

Angels head hung low, as he slid his hands into his pockets. He couldn't believe it'd come to this. The world was about to end, or possibly something worse. And people he'd known for years, who he'd worked with and fought beside… They thought he was the one to blame.

You're in the belly of the beast, he told himself. Can't expect them all to see inside.