Xander nestled close in Thousand-Faceted Nelumbo's arms. "It's hard to believe you're not quite...um, human."

"But I am human, Xander. I have a human soul. Does being Exalted make you not human?" Nelumbo sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Ex...right. I'm sorry. I remember you told me when we first met, but it keeps sliding away." A lot of his memories seemed to be like that lately. Who was it that had brought him to the island and Fred to Luthe? What exactly was Nelumbo again? Why had he been so nervous about going to bed with her? Xander was going to have to try and work out a power for remembering things better, or he was going to end up with no memory of Creation at all by the time they got home. "But didn't you also say they made your flesh and put implants in you?"

Nelumbo nodded regretfully against his shoulder. "They did. My body is artificial. I have a human soul that has been through many incarnations of heroism, but they built a body to house it. I thought you understood that."

"Maybe I did." Xander pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "I'm sorry. It's as if I can't keep track of what you have and haven't told me.

Thousand-Faceted Nelumbo pressed her lips together. "It will be all right, Xander." She seemed embarrassed about having gotten his name all confused. "Don't worry about it. It's a strange thing to you, I'm sure." She kissed the back of his neck. "It will pass."

"I could've sworn," he muttered. "Nelumbo, have I ever mentioned someone named Anya?"

"I don't believe so," she said softly, the crystals of her hair tinkling as she shook her head. "Why?"

"I don't know."

Chapter 14 - For the First Time All Over Again

"Not so strange," Iron Siaka insisted. "Look, I'm not the one who worked this out. 'Ending' isn't the same thing as 'losing'. Hmm...lemme see. Imagine if the Solars had realized they were going crazy and said, 'Hey, guys, take over for a while and let us figure out a cure.' Would that mean the Solars lost? Nope. If anything, it'd count as a win. Course, they didn't do that, and we had to end the Old Realm a different way."

"But if the Sun throws the match to Saturn, wouldn't that still be losing?" Anya liked to think of herself as a smart cookie, but Iron Siaka's logic just didn't seem to hold together. "I'm not saying things can't come to an end without that-say, maybe if the games stopped being held-"

Iron Siaka jumped. "What would we watch? Hell, why would the gods do that? Scratch that, nothing works right around here these days, but it doesn't seem like the kind of thing that'd happen." They came to the end of the hall, to a huge iron-bound door of oak. "The bigwigs are in here. I don't envy you. Nobody quite understands what's up with your Essence, but Chejop Kejak, Ayesha Ura, and Nazri all want to get you figured out and recruit you."

"I keep telling you," Anya said, and opened the door, "I was a demon for a long time. I lost my powers when I reverted to being human, but I didn't stop being the same person. I just figure that being Exalted made it accessible again."

"Interesting notion," said the bald black man seated in the middle, behind the table. "Nazri, Chosen of Endings, like you. I can't say I've heard of anyone being a demon for any length of time and then reverting, but I do know of various magics that can transform you briefly. You're certain you're not merely of demonic descent?"

"That would be an issue," said the woman on the left, who was nearly as dark but had short wavy hair. "But it can be dealt with. Demon-bloods make for problems when they Exalt, but in the end they're just people. We had a Lintha serve with distinction on the Convention of Water a couple of centuries back. And isn't there a Fae-blooded boy in Serenity right now, Iron Siaka?"

Siaka nodded politely but curtly. "There is. He's not what people think, though-his father was Mountain Folk. Something's going on there but I don't really know what."

The man on the right snorted faintly. Anya wouldn't have called him wizened-he was too robust for that-but his hair was flat grey and he was covered in wrinkles. "The Jadeborn were inadvertantly created from raksha by Autochthon. It's an old story; I'm not surprised you haven't heard it. And yes, a variety of Demon-blooded have been effective Exalts of various stripes before, but that doesn't make them safe or easy to deal with. For every one that works out, two have to be put down."

"Because you're all for putting down Exalts," the dark woman said snarkily. "Yes, there have been problems, but no worse than with God-blooded of any sort. Come to think of it, don't you recall that business with Nellens Yoriko? That was a nightmare. We had her all planned out before she was born, and then it turned out she was really Tasika's kid, and then she evaporated off the Order's radar when Mars came calling."

"How'd we overlook that one, anyway?" Nazri shook his head.

Ayesha blushed as much as possible for her. "We were, ah, in the middle of a flare-up with Kejak's people when Tasika was having his affair."

Nazri raised his eyebrows. "Of course. Anya, since my colleagues still haven't seen fit to introduce themselves: Ayesha Ura, Gold Faction leader, ranking Chosen of Journeys, and Eastern Convention Chair. And Chejop Kejak, our most senior member and Bronze Faction leader, and the Chair of the Capital Convention."

"I'm not sure-" Anya began. What were all these factions and conventions?

"Bronze Faction overthrew the Solars, ushering in Dragon-Blooded rule and the ensuing dark age. Gold Faction has been complaining about it ever since, not that they have an actual plan for now."

Anya frowned. "Didn't give a faction for yourself. I know something about office politics. No disrespect intended." They glared at her, and she pretended her tone had been perfectly genuine.

"Nazri keeps us both on our toes," Ayesha said after a moment. "Nazri coordinates a jumble of independent small groups, none of which amounts to much by iself, but together they're enough to be a thorn in both our sides. Don't think he doesn't have an agenda of his own, though."

"My agenda is the survival of Creation," Nazri said, his tone so calm that to Anya's ear he was obviously blustering like mad.

"So is mine," Chejop said with more than a hint of asperity. "And yet you oppose me at every turn. Come to think of it, Ayesha, while I certainly disagree with you-"

"Yes, Chejop. Nazri, all of us want to keep Creation going. You're not concealing anything from her this way." Ayesha at least had the good grace to look embarrassed when she turned back to Anya. "Nazri thinks we're all wasting our time fighting yesterday's battles. Today's battle should be with the Fair Folk, he says. Which is true as far as it goes, but they're far from the only threat."

Chejop held out a hand in front of Nazri, forestalling a response. "I see you've gotten us sniping at each other and revealing things. Which is inconvenient for us but at least speaks of useful skills for you. Now, Iron Siaka, I suspect your hand was jostled while you were writing down the girl's age. You should feel free to go file some reports. How old did you say you were, Anya?"

Anya gave him a level look as Siaka patted her on the back and strolled out. "She wrote it down right, Mister Kejak. I'm eleven hundred forty-two years old. I know, it doesn't show, does it. Well, as the saying goes, when nine hundred years you reach, look as good you will not."

Chejop harrumphed loudly. "My five thousandth birthday is coming quite soon, and I find I don't appreciate your brand of humor...young lady."

Dawn strolled down the streets of Yu-Shan, trying to look casual. There was nothing wrong. She belonged here. She was someone's favorite pet mortal...or maybe she wasn't a mortal at all. That was it. There were plenty of gods here who couldn't be distinguished from humans, walking along next to her.

She was starting to see that Yu-Shan was unlike any earthly city. There were plenty of residences, many of them palatial in nature. Green spread out everywhere, along with the pastel colors of multiple varieties of flower. Many of the mansions rambled over the estate grounds as if meant to draw visitors through their rooms in some sequence. Not everything was painted in brilliant colors, but outside of the slums nothing had the grey-brown hues of subdivision brick from Earth. Even in the slums a lot of buildings bore the peeling remnants of shimmering beauty.

Then there were the business districts. Well, district. The only one of any real size seemed to be the Bureau of Destiny. Anya was in there somewhere, probably in the huge mausoleum. Gods who didn't plainly have business there seemed to shun the Bureau, really. Either they walked right in and were gone, or their steps carried them around the far side of the street. What there wasn't was any sort of manufacturing or mass market stores. Here and there she saw small emporiums, and one or two large ones, advertising the superlative craftsmanship of one god or another. Anya had had just time before she left to mention that the money here could just be wished into whatever you liked, so that made sense: no need for ordinary goods.

Finally there was pleasure. Oh, not like a red light district, though she was passing the fringes of one of those now. There were theaters with massive facades and ampitheaters where one could be heard plainly from any exterior spot. There were gardens with no nearby home, which must simply be public parks. And last but not least, there were fancy taverns and restaurants. Those must be like the stores: you went there to socialize and to eat or drink stuff you couldn't really imagine having and thus couldn't make for yourself.

A hurrying figure, seemingly made of pure light, shoved its way past her in the crowd. Dawn stumbled, on the verge of falling and maybe being trampled by the throng hurrying down the streets.

A hand seized hers. "Hey, kidlet! Nice to see a familiar face in this neck of the woods. We need to talk." Her rescuer hustled her toward the doorway of a tavern. "C'mon, now. You wouldn't want me to get all upset, now would you? Not when I just saved your butt."

Dawn's throat clenched shut, preventing her from screaming wildly the way she wanted to. That unbreakable grip on her arm, that voice babbling about the latest fashion in the latest slang...she knew them.

Her "rescuer" was Glory.

"Anya, I understand that you're in a relationship," Ayesha said calmly. "And believe me, I can see how that could be useful to us." She glanced over at Kejak as if daring him to threaten the new recruit's fiancee openly. Of course he wouldn't do that; Anya understood just fine. He would go behind everyone's back. "But I'm not certain you understand certain repercussions of being a Sidereal."

"Is this going to be a talk about responsibility? I know how not to misuse my position." She did. Though naturally she'd never had the chance to use being a vengeance demon to help a boyfriend. Or even hurt one.

"No," Chejop said. He sounded miffed about the idea that she was dating a Solar, naturally. It wasn't as if it were her fault. "It's going to be an explanation that he has likely already forgotten you."

"What? It's only been a month since I saw him!" If Xander had forgotten her in that little time, she was going to make her days as a demon look petty.

Nazri gave her a sympathetic look. "You brought your other friends to Yu-Shan with you, and you were with them when you Exalted. That will buy them a little time. But Xander was away. Unless he uses potent magic to prevent it-and he might have, if he knows the right techniques-the arcane fate we share will have likely eroded most or all of his memories away already."

"People forget us," Ayesha said, her most blunt statement yet. "Anyone within fate. Mortals, gods...other Chosen, even. Not other Sidereals, small mercy though that is. Maintaining a few relationships is possible, if you put sufficient effort into it, but it will take a considerable portion of your time."

"Anya," Chejop said patiently-in fact, now he sounded like he was trying to be kind, which she did not believe for a moment-"if you are in fact over a thousand years old, we need to begin training your Essence at once. You are already unexpectedly powerful, but the true heights of essence manipulation can be reached only by those beyond their mortal years. Under the circumstances, you could spend two or three years reaching the heights that take most new Exalts a millennium."

"Let me get this straight, then, Mr. Kejak." She fixed the old man with her gaze, but he didn't flinch in the least. She was going to have to work on that. "You want to lock me away in a library or monastery or something to study and meditate. And meanwhile all my friends will forget I ever existed, because I won't have time to interact with them at all."

"To one degree or another," Nazri said, "it's something we've all been through. My people are entirely gone from Creation, Anya. Don't think I wouldn't have saved them if I could have. You need training, and you need us to give it to you. Other Exalts use their abilities instinctively, and you may have managed to do so to some degree. But our powers are linked tightly to the Loom of Fate. Our greatest abilities come from manipulating destiny through it. Even our innate powers were written specifically by the Maidens. You're unlikely to get very far without our help."

"The supernatural martial arts come more easily to us," Chejop said, "but that merely means that we can use their highest tiers at all. I could train you in techniques that no other new Exalt could hope to match, Anya." Which wasn't to say that he would. He didn't trust her. He just wanted her under his eye...or thumb. She thought. Maybe it was a front, but she didn't think so.

"Not to mention there are a variety of other, more mundane abilities you'll need to be an effective Sidereal," the dark-skinned woman pointed out. "We can train you quickly via magic-we'll have to, to some extent-but there are limits to our mystical resources in that regard. And you cannot learn your duties and responsibilities overnight, even if you can learn skill that way. We can make you a legend among Sidereals, though. Just give us time with you." Anya thought she trusted Ayesha a little farther...if only because she thought Xander was useful instead of a liability.

"I need some time to make a decision," she said carefully. They smiled at her. They were certain they had her.

Let them think it.

Dawn was going to die any moment now.

"Let's have some ale!" Glory shouted, banging on the bar. "For me and my new friend." A bored-looking waiter strolled over, handed her a pair of full glasses with his curiously bloody hands, and walked away. He didn't look quite human, but compared to some of the beings here...

"I, uh, do I know you?" Dawn did, of course, but maybe Glory was involved in some kind of act. And if she wasn't, maybe Dawn could figure out how to slip away.

"Well, I mean, y'know, not personally," Glory bubbled, taking a drink. "But we might as well be sisters. We're both in from the same place. Sort of a place. They treat us like dignitaries here, you know, even though they don't like us."

"Us? The gods don't like you?" Dawn didn't get it. Glory was way too powerful for the framework Iron Siaka had described, but she was a god. Wasn't she?

"By Balor, kiddo, no. They hate both our asses. But they're too polite to let on, mostly. Hey, what's your name, anyway? I can't just go on saying 'kid'. Delightful Storm of Witnesses? Hallowed Bystander of Chocolate? Sweeping Terror Conclave? I'm Glorious Radiant Conflagration, myself."

This was getting surreal. "Dawn Summers," she said faintly. Glory didn't seem to recognize her, not even as the Key. That improved her chances a little, but she had to be sure she was out of easy reach before she tried to run.

Glory took a moment to examine the name, mouthing it repeatedly. "Dawn...Dawn Summer. No, Summers. How many summers? Is this a trick name? I don't get it."

"I'll explain later? For right now, just call me Dawn." Hopefully that would be safe. For now.

"Undercover, are we? I get it." Glory dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's okay, though. They all know we're raksha."

"There is one matter I hope you'll explain for us," Nazri said after a few moments. "Tell me this, and I for one am content to let you take some time. What kind of a demon were you? How did you come to be one, and why is that no longer true?"

Okay. Easy questions. Dangerous, maybe, but easy. "I was a vengeance demon. I granted wishes to wreak havoc on the enemies of those who summoned me-specifically scorned women, in my case. I was transformed into a demon by D'Hoffryn-"

"D'Hoffryn?" Chejop interrupted. "D'Hoffryn, Third Soul of the Endless Desert?"

"Endless Desert? I...I don't think he ever mentioned that."

"Cecelyne," Ayesha said patiently. "The enforcer of the Yozis' laws. You're sure the name was D'Hoffryn?" She rummaged about ineffectively for a moment. "Black eyes, greyish skin, multiple pairs of horns?"

"That's the one." Was there something special about D'Hoffryn? This could be bad.

The old man muttered something under his breath; she thought it was "Maidens preserve us." She waited for a moment to let him regain his composure, and finally he rasped out, "Do you realize the power D'Hoffryn wields? He is among the most powerful of Third Circle demons. Greater than some fetich souls."

"He was able to give me the ability to reshape reality," Anya said bluntly. In for a penny and all that. "I was pretty much undefeatable as long as no one broke my power center. Unfortunately..."

"Someone broke it," the bald black man finished. "It wasn't voluntary, then."

"No," Anya said. "But I've had a good three years to come to terms with the fact that I can't go back. To start relationships, and to start dealing with the idea that I'm gonna die in less time that I've already been alive. Except I'm not going to, am I?" Bloody hells, she hoped they weren't planning to kill her now.

"The Maidens hard-coded a maximum five thousand year lifespan into Sidereal Exaltations," Ayesha said. "Not many of us reach it, but it's not unheard of. Chejop is close. I'm afraid you'll have lost over a thousand years of it already. Price of power, I suppose."

He'd said his birthday was coming up. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mister Kejak."

Chejop shrugged. "I'm putting my affairs in order. I mean to do all I can to see that the Bureau of Destiny goes on smoothly without me, until my Exaltation reincarnates. But thank you for your condolences. Some might think I am without heart, but I do appreciate your goodwill." He made a show of checking some papers, but she heard him mutter "D'Hoffryn" again under his breath.

He was going to try and kill her. She glanced at Nazri, then at Ayesha.

Maybe they all were.

Dawn stared. "We're what again?"

Glory scowled at her. "Is this some kind of a joke, Seasons' Greetings? Ra-ksha. Fair Folk. How long you had amnesia?"

"I don't know. I remember being Buffy Summers' sister for sixteen years. I know it's only really been about a year. Before that they tell me I was just a ball of green energy called the Key." Why didn't Glory know all this? How-?

She hadn't followed them here. This Glory, this past Glory didn't know her at all.

"A ball of..." Glory's face suddenly lit up. "Oh-ho-ho. I see it now. They made an artifact out of you. The Key. Don't know what that is. Sounds like something I'd want though. But it won't work now. Someone must have made you a new Heart and Ring. I get it. You really were nobody for a while. No wonder you don't remember anything. Well, Hot Stuff in the Morning, you just hit the jackpot. Come with Glory, and I'm gonna show you exactly what you are and what you can do."

"Um...but my friends...and I have a sister. I'm just not sure where she is." No. No way! She was not going anywhere with Glory of all people, not even if this Glory seemed to think she could be Dawn's friend. And if the Key hadn't even been made yet... Dawn began to stand up.

Glory put a hand on her shoulder. "Daybreak, you gotta know. Humans are not your friends. You're not their friend either, or their sister. These people, they're just...characters in a play. You're the audience. They don't really feel anything for you. They don't really feel anything at all."

Dawn blinked. "You're serious?"

"Nope. I'm Glory. Sirius is god of dogs. He lives around here somewhere, probably. Maybe not in this district. Get with the program, girl." She was joking. She had to be. "Gods don't feel anything either. They're characters too. Just a different splat."

"Splat?"

"C'mon, now, you don't want me to start a fight, do you? Splat. The noise they make when I punch them." The curly-haired blond goddess-well, she wasn't really that after all, was she?-yanked Dawn to her feet. "Get up. I'm gonna show you what life is like when you're good and charged up. Once you go Wyld, you'll never wanna be mild. Or something like that."

"Eyes open, Anya." Iron Siaka wasn't enjoying showing Anya around Yu-Shan quite as much as she'd expected. In spite of having punished unfaithful men for a thousand years, apparently, Anya seemed to have only the occasional passing fancy for women. It must have been very frustrating for her. Iron Siaka tried to sympathize. She took her hands away, too. "Welcome to the Loom of Fate."

Some new Sidereals broke and ran. Some had trouble tearing their eyes away out of horror. A few were just plain fascinated-usually the smartest, best educated ones. Iron Siaka had no idea how her technical sort-of-wife was going to react, and hadn't had a chance to get in on any betting pools. If there were any. New Sidereals were rarely a surprise, and none so much as Anya, who hadn't even been in Creation a month ago.

Anya stared at the Loom. She stared. It didn't look like either horror or excitement. Iron Siaka wasn't sure what it did look like. Finally Anya opened her mouth. Closed it again. And...

"It looks familiar."

"What." There was nothing like the Loom in all of Creation, and Siaka doubted there was a duplicate wherever Anya had appeared from.

"I said it looks familiar. It's not the same, but...Siaka, I used something like this when I was working for D'Hoffryn." The woman stretched out a hand toward it; a pattern spider shuffled into her way. "I tracked wishers on it, but mostly we used it to create false identities. Like Anya Christina Emmanuela Jenkins. That one only became permanent when I was kicked out."

"You what?" This had to be some kind of prank. No, pranks were played on new Sidereals, not by them. "D'Hoffryn has a copy of the Loom? That...that could be a disaster. Even if it's a cheap knockoff, that's no good at all. You don't understand."

"I don't even know if he has it here and now, Siaka." Anya had the sense to look worried, at least. "It wasn't something we talked about. We just kind of assumed it was something he had because, well, he was a demon."

"Well, it's not. The Loom was made by Autochthon and I can't imagine anyone being able to duplicate it, Anya. If a demon has it...well, I guess it could theoretically be a Yozi's work, but none of them were supposed to be as inventive as Autochthon." She was going to have to talk to Chejop Kejak about this. Maidens, she was going to have to talk to the whole Bureau about this, Gold Stars and all!

"It might not be a duplicate. It might be the real thing, only broken. You know, like in the future." Anya didn't seem to understand what she was suggesting, though she must have seen the horror on Siaka's face. The Loom, broken?

Maybe Oramus could duplicate it. Or Cytherea. They were strange like that. "Whatever it is, it needs investigating. And you're too new, Anya. There's no way you'll get sent out on a mission like that. Good way to get you killed."

Anya's face assumed a strange expression. "I'll give you ten to one odds that if there is any such mission, I get assigned it."

"Desus, Anya!" Anya blinked. Siaka realized she must still be mangling that curse somehow. What was with Anya's accent, anyway? It had to be Desus she was cursing by. "You're saying the Bureau will try to get you killed? For one thing, that's insane. Ex-demon or whatever, you're one of the best assets to come along in ages. For another, keep in mind that we're linked. You can't die without killing me in the process, Anya."

"Guess we'll be going together, then." Anya's tone was dry and, well...fatalistic. "They'll send you to 'supervise the newbie'."

"It won't happen," Iron Siaka insisted. Sure, the higher-ups could be ruthless. But...not like that. That way lay madness.

"This way!" Glory called, and Dawn sidled warily after her. She didn't think this slum was the same one as the one Anya's apartment was on the edge of, but it was hard to be sure. Yu-Shan was huge. Maybe if she made a break for it, she could lose Glory in the maze of alleys.

The scuttling little creatures looked apelike, but their heads were larger, and they called out to one another in what was plainly a complex language, regardless of Dawn's ability to understand. They wore clothes, and some of them had a bandolier of tools.

Glory was hunting them, and they knew enough to be afraid. She wasn't bothering with stealth, admittedly. As Dawn watched, she smashed right through a small bridge over a dried-up canal and seized one of the little gods by the leg. "Come hang on to this one," she shouted. "I'll get another one for me."

Nervously Dawn took hold of his arm. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'll let you get away if I can." Glory didn't seem to hear, fortunately. Dawn didn't think she remembered the supposed goddess having any special senses. Whatever a raksha was, Glory didn't seem any less powerful than when Dawn had seen her last. She did show a tiny bit of caution, but then they were in a city full of gods.

The vapid-seeming blond trampled her way back to Dawn, holding a second creature by the arm. "I'm gonna show you how it's done," she explained. Dawn fretted nervously. If she'd encountered these creatures in Sunnydale, she'd have thought of them as demons, and probably called Buffy to slay them. Was it really so bad if Glory brain-sucked them? But then would she say the same if Glory were going after gods who looked more like, well, people.

Glory plunged her hands into the creature's head. It screamed, and Glory screamed with it, but for her it was a cry of ecstacy. "Woooo," she finished. "So much better." The little ape-god sagged to the ground. Even if these beings were evil, though, it wasn't just that Glory wanted to brain-suck them. "Okay, kiddo," Glory said. "You saw what I did. Your turn."

Dawn had tried protesting that she wasn't able to do this, but Glory refused to take no for an answer. Maybe if she demonstrated that it didn't work, the "raksha", whatever she was, would leave her alone. Dawn raised her hands to the sides of the being's head. "Go on," Glory encouraged. Dawn clasped her hands around its skull.

They sank in.

Absolute.

Utter.

Joy.

"Ayesha insists you used a technique of Throne Shadow Style," Chejop Kejak said.

"I don't even know what that is," Anya protested.

"Surprisingly," the old man said softly, "I find that entirely understandable. Throne Shadow Style was the original instinctive fighting art of the Glorious Viziers, just as there are Solar, Lunar, and Terrestrial Hero Styles. It lost much of its utility after we were forced to overthrow the Solars, and the Maidens designed a new fighting style for us. Violet Bier of Sorrows Style is just as instinctive, but its properties are different. I am not going to train you in Throne Shadow Style. It's too powerful for a beginning student. The one technique you remembered spontaneously merely cloaks your fighting ability, and should be useful but not excessively dangerous."

"So what do you plan to train me in?" She had gradually absorbed bits of Buffy's ordinary battle technique while working with her, and pieces of other combat styles over the centuries, but applying magic to them was something that had never occurred to her.

"As a Sidereal, and a Chosen of Endings at that, supernatural martial arts should come easily to you. Still, the Sidereal styles are, in my opinion, too much for you as well, though unlike most new students you may technically have the ability to learn them. I intend to assess your knowledge of Violet Bier of Sorrows Style, a Celestial style that Ayesha also says she observed you using. After that...well, I will show you a list of the different styles that have been developed over the years. Terrestrial styles are weak, but far from useless, and can be learned quickly. The few Sidereals who know them have mastered many diverse techniques, but in my personal opinion your time would be wasted on them. Your essence is too well-developed for such things. Celestial styles are far more powerful, but not as easy to learn."

Anya winced. "I don't understand what the difference is. Can't you explain more clearly than just saying how powerful they are?"

Surprisingly, the old man smiled. "A mortal martial artist may break a board, or leap to the top of a rock. A Terrestrial martial artist may shatter stone, or leap atop a house. A master of the Celestial arts might split metal, or bound over mountains. And a Sidereal master can break your soul, or leap from Creation to Yu-Shan. I always did like that explanation."

"You come up with it?" Anya couldn't explain why she felt the urge to tweak him. It wasn't just about Xander.

"No, in fact. It was old when I was young." His face remained crinkled with mirth. "The simplest styles apply the flows of essence to ordinary combat. They merely enhance what anyone can do. More advanced styles invoke supernatural powers and include them in the fighting arts. Imagine a martial art based around manipulating flame, or water-the Immaculate styles we have taught the Terrestrials are such. There are others."

"Telekinesis...um, moving objects with your mind?" Anya imagined Willow flinging pencils about.

"Hmm. I haven't heard of such an art. Perhaps you'll develop it one day. The Sidereal techniques moved beyond even that. They apply the principles of martial arts-force, leverage, constraint, and so forth-to mystic phenomena instead of the other way around."

She tried to wrap her head around that. "I'm sorry, I don't get it."

"Precisely. When you begin to, you will be ready to learn those arts, and not before."

"You enjoy talking about this, don't you?" He seemed to have forgotten-almost-how dangerous he thought she was. This was the closest thing to fun he still had in his life.

"I do. And you may well be my last student, Anya. I can only hope that you will be my best. Please-listen to what I have to say. Let me pass on my wisdom while I have time."

He was sincere. She thought, anyway. Maybe he was just cloaking his deceit with magic, but he felt sincere. But then, how and why was he planning to kill her? She'd been sure of that too. "I'll try not to disappoint. Wait, I know. Do or do not; there is no try."

Chejop Kejak surprised her. He laughed.

It was like a feast after spending her life surviving on crumbs.

It was like finally getting a good night's sleep after living on catnaps.

It was like...well, she'd heard this analogy after Buffy had started spending nights with Riley. She wouldn't be happy knowing Dawn remembered it.

Dawn felt satisfied. Full of energy, not in a buzzed sort of way (though there was a little of that), but simply, finally, running on full instead of empty.

"Shit," she heard herself say, and was distantly embarrassed. "I really did it."

"You bet your bacon, kiddo. Told you you were one of us." Glory offered her a high five-the first high five she'd seen since coming here-and she returned it, feeling disoriented still. The Glory she'd known had admittedly been deranged, but Dawn had never imagined her as being deliberately helpful. How long had she been trapped? How much had she been changed by the experience? Clearly a lot of her personality remained the same. Of course, there was always the chance she was just manipulating Dawn.

Then again, Glory had just wanted to go home. She was amoral and predatory, but this Glory was home, or at least free to go there whenever she pleased. Dawn wasn't important to her plans.

Of course, there was the pair of poor ape-gods wandering off in confusion. That couldn't be something they deserved. "Did we have to do that?"

"Hey, hey, hey. You'll learn, Aurora. We're better than they are. They're not even real, don't you see it? We couldn't do this if they were real." Glory whipped out a tissue from apparently nowhere and wiped Dawn's eyes. "I promise it'll get easier. You'll start remembering more. This is who you are."

God no. That was the last thing Dawn needed to hear.

"Here's the deal," Fred explained. "I need a navy. A lot of our ships were wrecked by Leviathan, but not all. Having a navy means I need someone in command."

Xander tried to keep his mind on the subject, but it wasn't easy. He wondered why someone as gobsmackingly hot as Nelumbo was single. It had something to do with the holes that nagged at his memory, but he wasn't sure what.

"I don't care how much authority you let go to Captain Tya Redfang, Xander. He's more than competent. But the sailors-the ones who won't just mutiny and go to the Realm, anyway-will look up to you more, because you're Exalted."

Whenever he tried to remember how he'd gotten here, the memory slipped and slid. Someone had to have brought them, but there just wasn't anyone he knew who could've done the job. An ocean deity? A random sailor? A demon? Who? "What about Nelumbo?" he asked absently.

"Nelumbo's a big help," Fred said patiently, "so long as she's here. And she's good to talk to. But, well...once she gets enough hungry ghosts from Skullstone, she's gonna leave. She'll go home to her world, wherever that is, and I don't think we'll be ready to go home by then."

He couldn't remember exactly who Nelumbo was, either. She wasn't a god. She wasn't a demon or a ghost. She was a robot of some kind, but more than a robot. She was an...Exalted, but not any type he was familiar with. So of course she must not really be Exalted.

Okay, that was convoluted and just plain wrong. But what was right?

And he hadn't wanted to sleep with Nelumbo at first, but why the hell not? What could have kept him away from her? She was strange-looking, but she was gorgeous all the same. That crystal hair...

"Xander, are you listening to me?"

There were just too many gaps in his memory lately. "I'm sorry, Fred. I'm having some kind of issues here. Um...was I with anyone when we met?"

Fred thought about that for a moment. "It seems like you were. But there's no one you could've been dating. Cordelia was with Angel's group, Buffy had just broken up with Riley, and Tara and Willow were together. You're cute, but I hadn't said anything. And as far as I know, you're not into guys."

"So why didn't I jump all over Nelumbo as soon as we met? She's-" A single crystalline light formed in his mind. It split and blossomed like a seed. "-one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, and she goes around naked-" And frankly, it's ludicrous to have these interlocking bodies and not...interlock. Please remove your clothing now. "Shit. Shit. Anya."

Fred stared at him. "Who's Anya?"