"Slayer! But I thought you were a myth!" the vampire gasped as Faith's boot connected with his sternum and sent him sprawling to the ground.

Faith grinned evilly as she brandished the stake she had conjured from the pocket sown inside her denim jacket. "I'll let you in on a little secret," she started mysteriously and jumped to straddle the vampire's waist. "The greatest trick the Slayer ever pulled was convincing the demon world she didn't exist."

While the hapless vampire was still gaping at her words, she brought the stake down in a swift move and pierced his chest.

"Thank you, Bryan Singer," she chuckled as she stood up and dusted her dark jeans.

She looked around the now quiet Besley Park in the community of Acacia Bay. The residents had complained in the local newspaper about a recent increase in mysterious vanishings of pets and other small animals and now, on the third consecutive night of patrolling the area, the mystery was solved.

Acacia Bay was located about three miles south-west of the town of Taupo and its Hellmouth, and, according to Pauline, had almost never been the centre of any supernatural activity. A single annual vampire was just about the whole of it. Faith had taken the situation seriously, however, as many of Pauline's students lived in the area. Even though the vampire had not attacked any of the human residents, she didn't want to leave anything to chance. She knew Pauline would be pleased, something that gave her a happy feeling – practically unheard of in her past but recently becoming unexpectedly more common.

Her 125 cc / 7.63 ci Kawasaki stood in the parking lot of Taupo Bible Church where she had left it two hours earlier. It wasn't really "her bike", but Pauline had given her free use of it so that she could drive on her own to Taupo for patrolling. Back in the States she wouldn't have caught dead riding such a tiny bike. (In her opinion, almost everything below an HD's 1340 cc / 82 ci was a child's toy.) But here, she was just grateful to have wheels, regardless of the lack of power between her legs as she rode them. She didn't have a license to drive the bike and so Pauline had made her swear she would follow the local traffic laws to the letter to avoid any unnecessary encounters with the local law enforcement.

It was still before midnight so, instead of taking the Mapara Road back home, she started down Acacia Bay Road to Taupo where she would do a quick sweep of Gates Park before heading back to Oruanui. She had not yet been able to locate the Hellmouth which she knew was somewhere in the Taupo district. The Faithful were equally clueless about its exact location. One of the first places Faith had checked was the Taupo-nui-a-Tia college where Pauline taught, with the assumption that Hellmouths tended to favour schools. The place didn't have that feeling, like the ol' Hellmouth High in Sunnydale did, so she had next patrolled surreptitiously around the local high schools but with zero results.

What she remembered of what Rowan had told them, the NZ Hellmouth was sealed with Spirit. In hindsight, as she later recalled her musings of those facts, she was surprised that the full magnitude of the relation between her current location and what Rowan had told them hadn't occurred to her then.

'Left-side traffic, left-side traffic,' Faith kept reminding herself as she took the right turn from Norman Smith Street to Wairakei Drive and then the sharp left-hander to the Gates Park parking lot. There was only one spot free and, somewhat reluctantly, she parked the bike next to a shining black Honda CBR1100XX.

She was five minutes into her sweep of Gates Park when she heard the muffled scream. She started running and quickly saw an all too familiar scene – a female vampire holding a young man from behind just about to sink her teeth into his neck. Before she could make it to the scene, though, a dark-clad figure dropped down from a tree. There was a flash of bright steel, and then only the mysterious vigilante and the former victim remained. Without the vampire holding him upright, the young man collapsed with his saviour apparently not paying any attention to him. Instead, they surveyed the surroundings in a relaxed stance that still managed to portray readiness to act in the blink of an eye.

Without really thinking, Faith dashed forward. "Hey!" she shouted while still some 50 yards away. The black-clad figure turned around in a flash, and Faith could see in the dim light that they were clad like a ninja all the way to the mask that left only eyes visible.

If not for her Slayer hearing, she would have missed the quiet "chikushō" the person muttered before sheathing the now visible sword in a scabbard fastened to their back. Then the mysterious figure started running, fast. And Faith followed.

Faith was using her Slayer speed, but the one she was pursuing was using the environment to their fullest advantage. They kept to the woods, navigating around the trees and other obstacles with extreme agility and speed. Before Faith realised it, the person had led her in a circle and was now approaching the parking lot. They jumped on the Super Blackbird while she was still some distance away and sped away before she had even reached her Kawasaki.

'What, what, what?' was the only thought circling in her head as she stood beside her bike and listened to the receding sound of the Honda speeding away.

"The point is... the point is...," Xander started, trying to focus his thoughts through the alcoholic haze in his brain. The bartender, who was doing what all bartenders throughout the universe apparently spent 90% of their time on – wiping a glass clean – waited with a look of well-rehearsed interest on his face for him to continue.

"The point is... they all love me," Xander proclaimed triumphantly.

"All those girls?" the bartender, Rick, asked sceptically.

"Damn right!" Xander shouted and slammed his empty beer bottle on the bar. "They are all sp-sp-speshul and they jus' love me."

"So, this B–"

"Buffy, she loooves me," Xander giggled. "So... so does Willow, sweet Will. And Faith. Did I tell you about Faith?"

"The one who...?"

"Yesss, I was so like... totally helpless. Was completely unable to resist. Have always had a thing for what she and Buffy are, but now... I dunno. They are Sl..."

"Sluts?"

"No, no, no!" Xander shook his head. "My... friend would... not like if I called his girlfriend a sl... that."

"You banged your friend's girlfriend?"

"No! Well, yes, but they weren't a couple then." Xander tried to focus. "The point is... The point is."

"You love all of them?"

"Yes!"

"Wow, man. And this... friend of yours?"

"Love him too...," Xander giggled. "He's something else... not gay, not straight, but he, too, loves me."

"That's far out."

After that their discussion gradually died down. Rick went to serve another patron and Xander was left to quietly nurse his... quite-a-many'th beer.

Another small town, another nameless bar. He had been zigzagging across the country for a month without a set destination in mind staying in small towns and offering to do small carpentry and maintenance jobs in exchange for a full tank, a meal or a B&B. Which reminded him...

"Yo, Rick," he called the bartender.

"Yeah, man?" Rick asked from the other side of the bar where he was cleaning a table. "Another?"

"Nah," Xander shook his head. "Listen... look, what I'm trying to say here is. I'm... I'm handy with my hands... no, that didn't come out right. I mean... I'm good with my tool... no, no! Tools! I'm good with tools. If you got somethin' to fix, I could... you know in exch... exch..., you know, fix it for a place to stay the night and a meal."

Rick came back to the bar desk carrying a pile of plates. He looked at Xander speculatively for several seconds.

"Yeah, a few of the tables and chairs here could use some fixin'," he finally nodded. "Think you'll be up for it in the morning?"

"I'll be right as rain," Xander nodded enthusiastically. "Not that rain is always right, but when it's right it's rain."

"You're one weird fella, I'll give you that," Rick shook his head. "But I'm gonna go with my gut instinct here. There's a cot in the back and some leftovers in the kitchen. I'll be here in the morning at nine and I expect you to be ready for work by then. I'll throw in a breakfast, lunch and a full tank if you can get everything done by 4 pm."

"Deal," Xander grinned and extended a somewhat shaky hand.

Rick shook the hand and then motioned for him to follow. The bartender led him through a side door and a greasy-smelling kitchen to a fairly large storage area. "The cot is over there," Rick nodded, indicating the opposite corner. "You can use the staff restroom."

"Thanks, man," Xander thanked Rick and yawned. "I really appreciate this."

"Just be ready at nine," Rick nodded and turned to return back to the bar to close it for the night.

"Hey!" Xander called after him. "What town is this?"

"Marshfield," Rick answered over his shoulder. "Missouri."

Rowan was walking along one of the main corridors in the headquarters deeply in thought when a group of four people, two men and two women, rounded a corner ahead of him and continued in his direction. The left sleeve of one of the women was lacking a protruding hand. When the group saw him, the woman in question stopped in her tracks. Rowan sprinted forward.

"Gwen!" Rowan exclaimed joyfully and, wrapping his arms around the ex-Watcher's waist, twirled her around in a circle.

"Put me down, silly," Gwen laughed almost breathlessly. She was overjoyed to see her friend, her oh so special friend.

Rowan lowered Gwen gently to the ground but didn't let loose of their embrace. He rested his forehead against hers and whispered, "through fire."

"Through fire," Gwen whispered back.

"I like the hair," Rowan grinned at Gwen's boy-like hairdo which was still quite closely cropped due to the fire which had burned her hair away almost all the way to the scalp.

"I hate it," Gwen pouted. "It makes me look like a damn tomboy."

"Yes, but a very pretty tomboy," Rowan winked.

"Always the charmer," Gwen sighed but her eyes were twinkling. "Seems I'm not the only one who's changed their hairstyle," she continued, indicating Rowan's messy, high ponytail. She had to admit that the new look suited him perfectly.

Rowan took a step back, still holding Gwen's outstretched arms and looked at the ex-Watcher all over. She looked remarkably well, considering what she had survived just a little over a month ago.

"The doctors said they had never seen such a miraculous recovery," Gwen explained anticipating Rowan's question. She looked at Rowan intently for a reaction.

"Later," Rowan stated simply, indicating Gwen's companions with his eyes.

The other three Council members had stood respectfully back, giving the two a moment of privacy. They had heard and read what happened in Sunnydale when the two participated in a successful attempt to prevent an Ascension from taking place.

When they finally separated after their first re-union since Rowan had left for England, he faced Gwen's companions.

"Ms Chalmers, Mr McPherson," he greeted two of Gwen's companions. "Wes," he nodded to the Keeper.

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce visibly preened himself, proud for being on first-name terms with Rowan, something he shared with only Gwen among the Council. They had been conversing almost daily, Wesley being the current Keeper of the Vault.

"The Council will be in session in half an hour, Rowan," Wes announced a little louder than necessary and with a smug smile directed at Lydia and Fergus. "Sir Quentin respectfully requests your presence there."

"Thank you, Wes," Rowan smiled. "I'll be there."

Taking Gwen's hand to his own they headed for the main staircase. "Dinner?" he asked with a playful nudge.

"You're on, gorgeous," Gwen answered with a nudge herself.

Willow rushed up the stairs to her room, feeling and almost visualizing her windpipe being squeezed tighter and tighter until it resembled a straw. She fumbled with the top drawer of her dresser in cold sweat until she was able to open it and snatch the brown paper bag from within. She leaned forward and started breathing in and out of the bag.

It had been so sudden and unexpected. She had walked into the kitchen where the bright blade of a butcher's knife left accidentally on the counter had reflected sunlight directly into her eyes, and she had just frozen. 'The staring dead eyes, the blood-red claws – so shiny and sharp...'

"No!" she gasped into the bag and fell to her knees. Still holding the bag to her mouth, she crawled on all threes to her bed and took out her box of ingredients and herbs from underneath it. Opening it she felt a flush of relief – there was still one left.

Feeling her breathing getting slightly easier just for the relief alone, she took the white cylinder out of the box and rose shakily to her feet. She picked up a lighter from the bottom drawer of her dresser and opened the window. Sitting on the windowsill she lit the joint and inhaled deeply.

The pungent smoke gradually filled her lungs, and she could almost immediately feel the cramped muscles in her chest and around her windpipe relax. These panic attacks had started almost imperceptibly right after Oz's death – a slight unease at the sight of blood, aversion to handling knifes and other sharp objects – but they had been getting worse in the following weeks. First, she had relied on a standard asthma inhalator but that only gave her a moment's relief. Then there had been that one night with Buffy at the Bronze. When they left the club, someone outside had been smoking a joint and by accident blew out smoke on her face as she and Buffy passed him. The initial annoyance had faded quickly as she felt some of the constant tightness in her chest and jaw muscles melting away.

True to her nature she had started researching the next day and... well, even during the Summer there were people who could get you things around the UC Sunnydale campus. So far, she had been able to keep her "medication" a secret from everyone – at least she hoped so – relying on generous amounts of mouthwash after a "dose" to hide the aroma.

Back in control again – if slightly mellower than normally – she took the oh-so-elusive shoelace out of the nightstand drawer and laid it on her lap. It was the same one Rowan had given her before he left for England.

"Never again on my watch," she murmured quietly as the piece of string rose slowly to her eyelevel.