The Road Back: Season Three

by xxmagex

The events started in The Road to Hell continue. The world changes as the Scoobies and others realize they are part of a bigger world.

19. Chapter 19

Part Fifty-Seven

UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale, California. November 29, 2001

Not all that long after the baby named Connor Alexander had been born to Angel and Darla down in Los Angeles, Willow Rosenberg wasn't asleep; despite the fact that it was roughly two o'clock in the morning. Because she was preparing a magic spell - in secret.

It had been two weeks now since that conversation in the Magic Box, where the others had vetoed her idea to experiment with Lethe's Bramble in order to 'fix' what had happened regarding Xander Harris so long ago. Willow had not taken that decision well; in fact, trying to overcompensate for the incorrect perception that the Scooby gang didn't trust her not to screw up, she had become more determined than ever to do whatever she had to, in order to clean up the mess she'd made during her senior year of high school.

{Thank God Tara isn't here.} Willow thought with the tiniest bit of guilt as she continued the preparations in their dorm room. {I'd hate to have to ask her to lie for me, if anyone tried to find out what I got up to tonight! That's it, I'm almost done.}

At last, the red-haired witch was ready to begin. Disregarding all the dangers associated with the rite she was about to undertake, Willow started to chant:

"For Xander Harris, this I char. Let Lethe's Bramble do its chore. Purge his mind of alien memories grim, of pains from ancient slights and sins."

Willow struck a match, and set light to the small collection of flowers before her on the floor of the dorm room. She then reached into a small pouch on her belt, took out a clear crystal and held it within the flames.

"When the fire goes out, when the crystal turns black, let the spell be cast. Tabula rasa, tabula rasa, tabula ra-"

Suddenly, Willow stopped. She could feel *something*; a gathering of energy in the room. A presence that caused her to abandon her spell, just as it was about to reach its climax.

Willow started to say, "What the-"

"You are stronger than I imagined, little one. Most would not, indeed could not have sensed me, but you did."

Willow got up from where she had been kneeling on the floor, and looked at the source of the Russian-accented voice. The redhead was surprised to see an old crone standing next to her bed. {Okay, where did she come from?}

"Who are you?" Willow asked as she mentally prepared a defensive spell.

"The better question is, who are you? I thought I knew of everyone with such magical potential. And yet I was wrong." The woman shuffled forward a little bit, using a wooden stick as a cane. "Well, but I am Baba Yaga. Maybe you've heard of me, da?"

Willow blinked; she indeed had heard the name. "You can't be, she's just a myth!"

"Like vampires and demons, little one? You should know that most 'myths' in this world are actually based on truth. After all, you live on top of this Hellmouth." The ancient-looking witch sat down on the chair at Tara's desk. "Now, I know you Americans sometimes lack manners. But you know who I am, so shouldn't you introduce yourself? After all, I came all this way from Mother Russia to see you."

Willow just stared for a few seconds. This was not how she'd expected her late-night activities to unfold.

"Do not worry; I do not plan to steal your soul or some such thing. Heh, if I wanted it, there are much easier, better ways to do so than by telling me your name." Suddenly the old crone was replaced with a breathtakingly beautiful young woman, sitting with her legs crossed.

"Okay, this is weird," Willow said, blinking at the sight of Baba Yaga's true face.

"Well, perhaps. Nyet, there is no 'perhaps'! But tell me, young lady who still has not introduced herself - why the desire to modify the Timetripper's memories?"

"Timetripper, you mean...Xander?" Willow's eyes suddenly widened in excitement.

"Da, little one, the very same. Such a wonderful young man, Alexei Antoniovich - I enjoyed meeting him a while back. One day we will meet again, for he and I are destined to cross paths again. Although I hope his comrades will not be there when the time comes. They were bothersome at times, most overprotective," Baba Yaga sighed, flipping her hair to one side.

Willow narrowed her eyes, focusing only on what was important to her. "Xander, you've seen Xander recently?"

"By all the discredited Tsars, little one, you heard me say that." Baba Yaga looked at Willow carefully. "I doubt you are the Slayer. If one of the Chosen was a magic user, I would have definitely heard of it, one of her friends, maybe?"

Willow shook her head in disbelief. "Okay, let's play along and see what happens. I'm Willow."

"Willow, heh? Willow Rosenberg, da, da, I have heard of you. I am Baba Yaga, I am pleased to meet you," the ten thousand-year-old witch smiled mysteriously.

"Well, uh, same here, I-I-I guess. So do you-" Willow started to say.

"That spell you were attempting to cast just now. Dark magic, da? But I do not think you work for the First, as you would have known better than to try and blast through that protection spell that the Furies put in place," Baba Yaga interrupted the younger witch.

"The Furies?" Willow asked tentatively, looking concerned that Baba Yaga knew what she'd been up to tonight.

"You do not know of the Furies? Nyet, that cannot be! How do you not know of them? Just who is mentoring you, where did you learn your magic?" Baba Yaga briefly looked surprised.

"Well, a lot of it I learned by myself and a friend taught me the rest." Willow stammered out.

"Your friend, is he or she accomplished with the use of magic?" Baba Yaga asked.

"Well, I-I-I think he's very knowledgeable about magic. He's, he's very well versed in all the materials." Willow said, deciding to leave Tara's name out of this for now, just in case.

"A 'he' you say, interesting - ah, let me guess; a Watcher. Where there is a Slayer, a Watcher is sure to be close by. So the Council knows of you, da? Odd, very odd. I would have thought that you would have been sent to one of the Covens in England by now, Willow Rosenberg. To unlock all your potential."

"Covens? Giles has never mentioned." Willow trailed off, suddenly deciding to reassert her control of the situation. "Xander, you said you'd seen Xander recently. How is he?" she said with firmness.

"Ah, so there is strength when you want to summon it forth. Again, interesting," Baba Yaga said with a wide smirk.

"Answer the question," Willow said firmly.

Baba Yaga leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. "Perhaps I need to remind you that I have been in this world a lot longer than you, Willow Rosenberg. I was an old woman when Abraham, the father of your people, was only a mewling infant. I was old even when human beings were still living in caves! Little one, I have granted you some leeway with me. Do not abuse it!"

"Xander," was the short response from Willow, her Resolve Face clearly visible. "Tell me how he is."

"By the blessed bones of Catherine the Great," Baba Yaga abruptly smiled. "I cannot recall the last time someone has challenged me like this. You know that I could squash you like a grape, da? You have the potential, but little else; it will be a *long* time before I need to fear you."

"Tell me how Xander's doing." Willow hated to admit it, but she was helpless to do anything with regard to how Baba Yaga was, well, *playing* with her. With her current power level, she might be able to last five seconds against the other witch if Baba Yaga unleashed her magical arsenal - and according to rumor, Willow knew, the legendary Witch had a *lot* of power up her sleeves.

"Da, it has been a long time, too long, perhaps, since I faced a true challenge. Well, there was that Nazi magician back during the war. I must admit, I like you much more than I liked him." Baba Yaga mused as she leaned back against the chair. "But to answer your question, the Timetripper is well. He was quite spirited, in fact, before we parted company a few weeks ago. Da, da, he has become quite famous in the circles I travel. He is also well protected, as you would have found out if that spell of yours had been completed."

{What's that supposed to mean?} Willow asked herself, before abruptly dismissing the question. She knew that the odds were she wouldn't like the answer. "Is Xander in danger?"

"Of course he is little one. We all are. Did you not know even that much? The First is on the move. Your friend is a major obstacle to its plans. It wants very much to remove that obstacle," Baba Yaga sighed.

"The First? You mean the First Evil?" Willow asked, recalling what Angel had said a few months back; and what Xander had written in his letters to Giles.

"Of course, Willow Rosenberg, You have much to learn. If only it could be otherwise, but I can project myself here for such a short period of time." Baba Yaga thought for a second. "Nyet, that will not work. There is only one option; da, it is decided."

"What's decided?" the redhead wanted to know.

"I will teach you."

"WHAT?" Willow suddenly looked officially freaked.

"I will admit, it has been a while since I last had an apprentice. Nyet, nyet,I have never actually had one. I have had familiars and pets, but no apprentices. I like the idea, it is - something new. Of course, I will have to make room for you in my cabin, maybe somewhere in the south wing." the ancient Witch trailed off, looking utterly lost in thought.

"Cabin, what are you talking about? You have a place in the woods outside of town? I can't move out there. Wait, according to the legend - don't you have a house built on chicken legs?!" Willow asked, her eyes wide.

"Da. It is actually quite comfortable; I have lived there for millennia," Baba Yaga smiled fondly at the memories.

"So, uh, how long will the commute be? I mean, I-I have college classes and, and hanging with my friends," Willow said surprising herself that she would even seriously consider the idea.

"Commute, what a novel idea. Nyet, silly child, you cannot walk to my cabin and come back here daily. You would come with me to live in Russia, of course, for as long as you need to."

Willow folded her arms. This was now *too* weird. "What? Russia? You gotta be kidding me! No way, I am not leaving my friends - not to mention Tara! Now tell me, where's Xander?"

"You will not accept? Willow Rosenberg, this is an offer the likes of which any witch would sell their own grandmother for me to grant to them! How can you turn me down?" Baba Yaga asked with a playful look.

"Because I screwed up like that once before, and I'm not doing it again. Now for the last time, where the heck is Xander?!" Willow shouted, surprising herself as well as Baba Yaga.

"Very fascinating. You are strong willed in addition to having such potential, little one. In a century or so, you will truly give me cause to worry." Baba Yaga stood up suddenly. "Da, I shall do it." She looked at Willow and suddenly she smiled as a thought came to her. "You and the Timetripper, ah, the potential and power your offspring would have. Such things I would be able to teach them, to shepherd and mould them." She clapped her hands together.

"I will have to move some things around. My cabin will not just move itself, well actually, it will." She laughed. "Ha, I can just imagine the look on the border guard's face. I shall come here to teach you, Willow Rosenberg. This Hellmouth stinks, but I have tolerated worse. Much to do, but do not worry. I will be back." And with that, Baba Yaga just vanished.

"Oh dear."

Willow looked around. The presence she had felt while Baba Yaga was in the dorm room was now gone. {Oh, jeepers. Now, now, how am I gonna explain all this to the rest of the gang? }

But then, something Baba Yaga had said suddenly registered with her mind. "And hey, gay now!"

1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. November 30, 2001

Dawn Summers grimaced to herself, as she stared at the Doublemeat Palace uniform she had acquired today after school.

The young woman knew that things were starting to get financially tough in the Summers household. Ever since 9/11, business at Joyce's gallery had really started to go downhill; and the Magic Box wasn't doing so hot either, much to Anya's dismay. Dawn had lost track of all the meetings her mom and Giles had had over the past two weeks, on how to get their finances under control - including one suggestion to get investors for the art gallery, which hadn't turned out so well.

Because the 'investors' were all vampires, who had stupidly wanted to send the Slayer a 'message' of some sort - before Buffy had slaughtered them all, once she'd figured out what they were.

In any case, it had eventually occurred to the Key that her working part-time at the magic store wasn't really helping. Dawn had figured out that the money Giles paid her could just as easily be used to help pay the family's utilities bill, or whatever. Despite the female teen's working hard to earn her salary, it wasn't *extra* cash in any sense of the word.

And it wasn't like Buffy could help by holding down a regular job, either; she was still studying at UC Sunnydale, and as has been said, the Slayer's nights were full slaying the vampires and evil demons that infested this town. So Dawn had figured out that it was up to her to try and relieve the family's financial stress a little.

Unfortunately, though, there just weren't all that many places in Sunnydale interested in hiring a 15-year-old girl who was still a high school student, and who could only work part-time.

"Oh, geez." Dawn said in disgust, as she picked up her new Doublemeat Palace uniform, and tossed it into her closet.

Dawn was *so* not looking forward to the first time someone from school would come to eat at the fast-food establishment, and see her wearing that stupid-ass hat which was part of her ridiculous-looking uniform.

A place where nothing is as what it seems. December 16, 2001

Kennedy Greene, vampire Slayer and Chosen One, looked up into the night sky. {Hang on a second, this isn't Cleveland.} the brunette thought to herself in sudden confusion.

She saw how storm clouds were gathering around a tall building. Her brow furrowed for a second, before the Slayer recognized it as the Empire State Building. {How the hell did I end up in New York?}

She looked around the street as people ran around. A loud roar suddenly pierced the night air, and the people on the street started running fast.

Kennedy looked up again and saw a huge, four-winged, dragon-like creature burst out of the Empire State Building roughly halfway up, with huge blocks of masonry falling to the street below. Nearby a homeless man started screaming, "The Ascension, the Ascension is upon us!"

The panicked crowd started fleeing as the dragon-like demon swooped down upon them, grabbing a few unfortunates and swallowing them whole. Kennedy suddenly found both her arms holding a sword. Lifting her weapons, she started running forward to attack the creature.

But before the Slayer could engage in combat against the flying demon, the homeless man that had initially raised the alarm grabbed her right arm. "The Ascension, you and him must stop it, the Ascension must not happen!"

"What are you-?" Kennedy asked in confusion, before she was blinded by a bright white light.

The brunette Slayer shielded her eyes as she turned to look at the source of the unexpected illumination. Standing in front of her was a knight, his armor glowing with an intense white light. Regrettably, the man's face was hidden behind his silver visor. "Whoooooooo..."

Kennedy abruptly sat up in her bed. She looked around at her bedroom, and ran her arm across her sweaty forehead as she tossed the covers aside. "Goddamn Slayer dreams! Can't I get a normal night's sleep anymore? To think, I actually used to be *jealous* of that Buffy girl for how often she used to get 'em."

Great Russell Street, London, England. December 17, 2001

"A white knight, you say?" Roger Wyndham-Pryce asked in astonishment.

"Yes sir, Mr. Zabuto was quite clear on that part of it. The Slayer dream ended with the appearance of a medieval knight in white armor," the aide answered as he stood next to the desk. Sunlight filtered through the windows of the office of the head of the Watchers Council. "I must admit, I'm not sure what the significance of that is."

"Well, Slayer dreams are always hard to interpret," Roger sighed. "Still, this mention of an 'ascension' isn't something that could be mistaken for anything other than what it is. Good Lord, two of them in the last couple of years? I do hope this isn't becoming a pattern of some sort."

The aide nodded. "Yes sir."

"Well. I suppose we should let the Americans know what's about to happen in New York - it *was* New York, wasn't it?"

"Yes sir, according to the Slayer the Empire State Building was unmistakeable."

"Very well. Contact Smithers and relay the information."

The aide nodded. "And the Slayer?"

"What about her?" Roger asked.

"Well, sir, the dream did say that she and this 'white knight' character had to stop the Ascension. Both of them, not just one or the other. So, should I make arrangements with Mr. Zabuto to send his charge to New York?"

Wyndham-Pryce leaned back in his chair. "You're quite right, of course. Yes, see to that, and coordinate with the Americans while you're at it. I imagine they'd get rather paranoid over a pure demon causing utter havoc in one of their cities. Contact Zabuto and let him know the situation, and for Smithers to expect company."

Siberian Trip Wire headquarters, Georgetown, Washington D.C. December 18, 2001

"So the Empire State Building is going to give birth to a dragon?" Joshua Cleburne asked in astonishment.

Alan Smithers rolled his eyes. "That's hardly accurate, General Cleburne. Granted, Slayer dreams are hard to interpret. But right now, all we know for sure is that the Empire State Building will play a role in the latest attempt at Ascension, by some human mage trying to become a pure demon."

"Which is worrisome, as the Empire State Building has a history in these matters," Dr. Irving Hollins, also known as the Wizard, said as he typed on the computer in front of him. The computer whirred as a compartment opened, and Hollins took out a CD. He placed it on the desk and said, "This disc contains the files from the various investigations after the building was first opened. It also covers all the, ah, 'events' that have transpired there over the decades."

Xander took the disc. "Bad news?"

The Wizard nodded. "Oh yes, shortly after it opened there were a series of murders that were confirmed as the work of a demon. Over the years, the building has seen more than its fair share of ghosts, werewolves, demons and warlocks. There has been some speculation of the supernatural having some sort of mystical influence over the place, actually."

"Like a building built over a Hellmouth?" Xander asked with an upraised eyebrow.

"Not as bad as that, but I suspect that its history played a part as the spot chosen by our mystery mage to attempt to reach Ascension," Hollins replied. The computer in front of him beeped. He opened the email that had just arrived. After a few seconds, the teenage boy frowned.

"Everything alright?" Xander asked as he put the disc back on the desk.

"Just an email from my colleague, Dr. Cooper; he can be quite vexatious at times, still - enough about that," Hollins said. He headed over a second CD to Xander. "Here are some possible leads for you in New York City. Sources of magical supplies, magic practitioners of note, demon information sources and the like. It should help you in your investigation."

"And why would he need this, since he's not going to New York?" Cleburne asked in a loud voice.

Esther Marcum looked up from the file she was reading on the couch. "Well, Joshua, the Slayer dream did specifically mention him, if I recall correctly."

"Actually, it didn't. Just some dude in a white suit of armor."

"Really, Joshua, you should know better. The vision symbolically referred to a white knight, which is Xander here," Hollins said, gesturing off-handedly.

"What?" Cleburne said while Xander grimaced in distaste, recalling just *who* had given him that particular nickname - and *why*.

"Xander, you are aware that Joshua met with the vampire known as Angel several months back, yes?" Hollins asked as Xander nodded his head. He knew that Cleburne had been in Los Angeles and met with his former roommate. "Well, they discussed quite a few things. Afterwards, a synopsis of the conversation was prepared. I reviewed that synopsis. During the meeting, Angel mentioned an incident at the Sunnydale General Hospital where his, err, alter ego Angelus referred to you as 'Buffy's White Knight'."

"So just how did you get Angel to become such a wealth of information?" Xander remembered how, in the past, his undead acquaintance normally was not all that forthcoming a person.

"Would you believe that Irishmen can't hold their liquor as well as they think can?" Cleburne commented, whilst looking annoyed over how he'd forgotten all about the 'white knight' thing Angel had mentioned.

"You got him drunk?!" Xander looked amazed.

"Let's just say I came to the conclusion that moonshine was a brand new experience for him," was the Marine's wry response.

Marcum chuckled. "I remember that time you brought your hooch liquor to a barbecue at my house, Joshua. Ty keeps asking if you're ever going to bring some more. You're not!" she said sternly, as Cleburne opened his mouth to reply.

"Be all that as it may..." Hollins continued, getting back on topic. "The Slayer dream featured a man in a white glowing suit of armor, a so-called 'white knight'. I know of no one else referred to as a white knight within the circles that a vampire Slayer would travel in. It is a reasonable supposition that you are in fact the entity referred to in the Cleveland Slayer's dream as being one of the two people who will stop the Ascension in New York."

"Hey, did I mention that Bathory woman? Remember her? Vampire queen, making nasty noises about the kid? The kind of woman who her own king was so freaked out by, before she became a vampire, that he had her walled up in a castle? The kid is her prey right now," Cleburne said warningly.

"Come on, Cleburne. This wouldn't be the first time I've been hunted by a dangerous woman," Xander commented sarcastically.

"Not on my watch," Cleburne said obstinately.

"So what's the answer, lock me up in an ivory tower 'til all the evil nasties in this world are gone? Never gonna happen," Xander retorted.

"He's right," Esther said, earning herself a glare from the USMC general. "There is a level of risk in what he does, in what we all do. I remember you talking one time about what it means being a Marine, Joshua. What's that saying you like to quote, 'Give me a fast ship because I intend to go in harm's way,' or something like that?"

Esther wanted Cleburne to agree to Xander going on the mission, after all he did run field operations for the Siberians and trying to overrule him could lead to problems in the chain of command. { We need a united front now more than ever, after all. }

Smithers spoke up, "The dream specifically referred to a white knight, as you say. I myself have great familiarity with the various Slayer dreams listed in the Council's archives. Based on all the information at hand, I must agree completely that the dream specifically refers to Lt. Harris. Thus, if the Slayer's prophetic dream indicates that he will play a role in stopping the Ascension, then our young friend here must be present in New York for that to happen."

"I don't like it." Cleburne sounded like a stubborn old mule that refused to move, despite all the cajoling attempts being made.

Xander suddenly smiled. "Hey, I've already helped stop one attack on New York this year. So I don't wanna sit around in my apartment in Virginia while a second one happens!"

Cleburne looked at the people in the office, it was clear he was facing a united front. "I still don't like this."

"Oh, yes, we gathered that," Esther commented idly.

"Well, maybe there's something you all forgot. This vampire Slayer who had the prophet-y dream last night? According to what the kid told us way back when, she was in Sunnydale before it turned into a big sinkhole in that other timeline. This Kennedy person is someone the kid knows, or rather knew - and we all know what *that* means, right?" Cleburne suddenly stared directly at Harris, who looked away in annoyance.

Hollins frowned. "Hmmm, there is that. Xander - that is grounds for concern, you must admit."

Xander shrugged. "It's not like it was before I went to England, and drank out of the Holy Grail. Nothing as bad as what it used to be, anyway. These days, Riley and Graham? There are some headaches, but I can tough it out."

"That's different. You only stay in contact with them for very limited periods of time," Esther said. "How long was this Kennedy person in Sunnydale with you?"

"Uh - six months, more or less. The first half of 2003, when the First was making its big move," Xander said reluctantly. He did not enjoy the slight headache associated with recalling those memories.

"How close to her were you?" Smithers asked.

"She was, uh, dating Willow, so there was - a fair amount of interaction." Xander only flinched a little bit when he mentioned Willow's name, something that Cleburne noticed.

Cleburne looked at the Wizard. "Level with us. How bad will it be?"

"I don't know. The reaction might not be as severe compared to meeting with the other Slayer, or the other people he knew," Irving shrugged.

"Or it could be worse, right?" Cleburne demanded.

"Unlikely, at worst it will be approximately the same. Most likely, the severity of the headaches will be connected to proximity - the level of contact with this Kennedy individual. Just as it has been with everyone else Xander has encountered that he knew in the previous timeline," Hollins stated.

"How sure of that are you?" Cleburne was now sounding irritated.

"As sure as I can be."

"Hey, I'll cope somehow. Take a lot of painkillers, whatever," Xander offered. "This is a freaking Ascension we're dealing with here, remember? My personal discomfort, not so much of a priority!"

"Are you sure? Because putting aside the gung-ho act - Cleburne has definitely been rubbing off on you over the past two years, hasn't he? - you *are* going to be risking death by neurological meltdown upon meeting with this person. No one will force you to do this, and we'll understand if you choose not to," Esther said gently.

"Thanks for the thought, Mrs. Marcum, but like Smithers here said - the dream mentioned me. And I don't think the Powers That Be would have sent that message, if the result was that my head would instantly explode when I see Kennedy!"

Cleburne and Esther exchanged a glance. Joshua sighed and said, "Oh, what the hell - I never get my own way anymore as it is, so why should this time be any different? Anyway, Fletcher goes with him, as does Gunny. I'd go myself, but I probably can't coordinate the ops in the Middle East and the Philippines from the road. Those two can keep a lid on things until I get there, if something goes screwy."

"There. Was that so hard, General?" Hollins asked kindly.

"I have only one thing to say to you, Mr. Wizard. Remember that question for *when*, not if, things get weird!" Cleburne replied grumpily.

Raiden residence, Los Angeles, California. The same time

Gwen went to her bathroom, grimaced at the sight staring back at her in the mirror, popped open the bottle of Seltrex, and dry-swallowed her highly powerful migraine medication.

The visions had been getting worse and worse over the past month or so, the hangovers lasting longer and longer. Which, from a certain point of view, was hardly surprising; after all, Jasmine's plan pretty much demanded that her future mother be broken down enough in order to eventually be willing to be transformed by Skip, both in terms of her body and mind. Now that Connor had finally been born, there was no time left to lose in the rogue Power's opinion.

For the first time since becoming a messenger for the PTBs - 'inheriting' the visions from Cordelia at the Southern California Museum of Natural History, over a year ago - Gwen was starting to become afraid. Afraid that the darn things would eventually kill her.

{ What was it Xander said that day? Oh yeah - 'be careful. Taking over Cordy's destiny like this, whatever happened that caused her to die by 2004 - it could happen to *you* now.' Jesus, but I wish I'd taken his warning more seriously, } the Electra Girl thought to herself grouchily. { Sometimes, I wish I'd never gone to that friggin' museum at all... }

But deep down, Gwen didn't really mean that. After all, if she'd never become Angel's new Vision Girl - then she'd never have become the person she now was. Never would have lost the hard mercenary edge she'd possessed. Never would have met the man of her dreams.

The one and only Charles Gunn.

New York City, New York. December 20, 2011

Kennedy looked up at the Empire State Building, the sidewalk around her filled with pedestrians hurrying on their way to wherever it was they were going. Sam Zabuto was standing next to her, likewise looking up at what had once been the tallest building in the world.

"A most impressive construct," the Jamaican man observed.

"Meh," Kennedy replied, looking fairly jaded about the whole thing. "Dad first brought me here when I was six. After you've seen it a few dozen times, it kinda loses its 'wow' factor, ya know?"

"Americans. Sometimes, you truly fail to see the wonders you create," Zabuto responded. He then noticed a balding man in a suit walking up to them.

"You Sam Zabuto?" the stranger asked.

"Yes I am, and this is my charge, Kennedy," the Watcher nodded at his ward. "I assume that you are Agent Fletcher?"

"That I am. C'mon, the others are already inside. We've rented office space with the cover of a new PR firm, and the others are all waiting to meet you two in there."

Within the Empire State Building. A few moments later

A receptionist looked up and smiled as Kennedy and Sam entered the PR firm's office suite, Malcolm Fletcher right behind them.

"Good morning, welcome to Sterling & Carter. How may I help you?" Then the Siberian Trip Wire operative saw her colleague, and instantly dropped the act. "Agent Fletcher, the others are waiting for you in the main conference room."

"Thank you, Amy." The FBI/STW agent and the other two walked through the lobby down a hallway into the room in question.

Gunny and Smithers looked up immediately from where they were sitting around the table. "This the new Slayer?" Gunny asked, and Alan immediately nodded.

"Ms. Greene. Mr. Zabuto, I'm-" the Englishman started to say.

"Alan Smithers, yes, indeed," Zabuto finished for him. "We met once several years ago, Mr. Smithers, before your difficulties with Quentin Travers."

"Yes, well, I suppose my reputation was more or less established with those...difficulties. I also remember you - and I heard about your previous Slayer named Kendra, by the way. I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

Zabuto bowed his head for a second. "Thank you. That was - a very difficult time." He turned to Kennedy. "Mr. Smithers, here, is a Watcher of some repute; someone the Council has seconded as liaison to our current hosts. Alan Smithers, Kennedy Greene." He turned to Gunny. "And you are?"

"Sergeant Charles Rose, sir, USMC. Think me of the babysitter for this little adventure," Gunny said with a small smirk.

"Babysitter? I don't need a babysitter," Kennedy snorted.

"He's not here for you, Ms. Greene," Alan said to the soon-to-be 19-year-old girl.

"Then who?" Kennedy demanded.

"He's here for me."

Sam and Kennedy turned to the source of the voice at the doorway at the other side of the room. There stood Xander Harris, flanked by Fred and Oz.

"So who are you?" Kennedy said, frowning as she saw Xander start rubbing the bridge of his nose in pain.

A wide-eyed Sam Zabuto supplied the answer. "Alexander Harris. Otherwise known as the Timetripper..."

The STW office conference room. A few minutes later

"So you're this Timetripper guy that everyone talks about in hushed tones, huh? Gotta say, I'm not seeing what all the fuss is about yet."

Xander briefly glanced over his shoulder at Kennedy. He was standing alone, looking out a window at the Manhattan skyline, and doing his best to deal with the headache threatening to become a migraine. {I wonder if she knows about that? Probably not.}

"It's safer that way. And I would have worn the T-shirt, but the suits did *not* like that idea. They mentioned something about copyright violations," Xander said in a low, gravelly voice.

Kennedy smirked, appreciating the attempted humor. "So, what do I call you? Timetripper, TT, Secret Agent Man?"

"Xander, Kennedy. My friends call me Xander," Xander said in that low, pained voice.

"You saying we're friends? We've only just met, fella," Kennedy said flippantly, even though the playful look had left her face.

"We've met before, at least the way I remember it. Fought side by side, even."

Kennedy looked at Xander in silence for a few seconds. "Yeah, Sam told me about that. I'm still not sure I fully believe it, though."

"Believe it," Xander cut her off tonelessly, rubbing his forehead. "I know you. You want proof? Fine, do the words 'Gone With The Wind' and figuring out your sexuality mean anything to you?"

{Yeah, they sure do.} Kennedy thought to herself in amazement before saying, "So - you really do know me? Another version of me? In that other timeline, I mean; in the future, your past?" There was now a familiar, at least to Xander, sound of awe in the junior Slayer's voice.

"Yeah. You were there in Sunnydale, during 2003. You - fought well." Xander looked back out at the skyline, trying to minimise the pain. "You weren't a Slayer 'til right at the end, but you still fought well."

{Holy cow.} "According to rumor, a lot of people died then. Did I make it out?" Kennedy asked wonderingly.

"You did. A lot of people didn't, but you did." Xander remembered Anya, who hadn't survived that terrible day. Of course, she was alive now and an item with Andrew Wells, the guy for whom she had sacrificed herself in order to save his life from some attacking Bringers.

The very same nerd who, according to Xander's information, had come up with the idea on how to save Darla's life in this brave new world, when she had been about to give birth to Connor a few weeks back.

By getting Cordelia Chase to give birth to the miracle child instead.

Xander still wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"So you look up people you knew from before, give them the low-down on who's going to win American Idol or whatever?" Kennedy asked.

Xander shook his head, wincing. "Doesn't work that way. Being with someone I knew from...before...causes problems. Really bad headaches. The kind where your head feels like it's going to blow up."

Kennedy thought for a second. "Why aren't you in pain now? You seem alright to me."

"I'm a good actor, plus I took a whole boat-load of painkillers before coming here. There's some people I literally can't be around, without my brain turning into mush. Others like you, I can sorta tolerate their presence. Even though it still hurts like a mad bastard," Xander said bitingly.

"Oh. Sorry. And I'm not a star player, huh? Bummer." Kennedy thought about it for a second. "So why are you here, anyway? Seems to me like this is something that some of the other secret agent men could handle, right?"

"Your Slayer dream said I had to be here."

"Say what?" Kennedy demanded in confusion.

"That white knight you said you saw show up outta nowhere. I've been called that on occasion. The big brains figured that it was the PTBs' invitation to the party for me," Xander replied, his voice lowering even more.

"Wow. So, how many nicknames do you go by? Timetripper. White knight. Anything else they call you?" Kennedy demanded.

"The Zeppo. The Donut Boy. Lots of other kind of 'boys'. But those are literally from another life - and the result of a pissed-off ex-girlfriend," Xander said in a monotone.

Kennedy was silent for a moment. "So tell me something. You've been through an Ascension before, right?"

"Yeah. Two - well, the same one, twice."

"So, how do we stop one?"

"Best way is, don't let it start," Xander replied, his voice thickening. "Hopefully, this guy hasn't become invulnerable to harm yet..."

The Magic Box, Sunnydale, California. A while later

Jonathan Levinson listened to the rest of the gang arguing all around him, but only with half an ear. His attention was mostly focused on the rat that was Amy Madison, which was running around in its cage; the young woman was someone who should have been turned back into a human being by now, but hadn't.

Amy was still trapped in rodent form because, here and now, Willow hadn't followed her previous path of diving headlong into reckless and addictive use of magic.

Not everything about this brave new world was positive in nature, after all.

STW conference room, Empire State Building, New York City. December 21, 2011

Tonight was the night of the winter solstice, the longest night of the year, but oddly - nobody seemed to care. There were other priorities, after all. Everyone was sitting within the conference room, poring through documents and trying to come up with ideas on the most appropriate course of action concerning the Ascension.

"We're looking at this all wrong," Oz commented suddenly.

"Okay, how's that?" Gunny asked.

"This isn't Sunnydale or Los Angeles. A demon's something that would stand out here in the Big Apple," Oz replied.

"Okay. And?" Gunny prompted the werewolf.

Xander spoke up, "A demon couldn't fly into the building or whatever, without being noticed. However, someone human could just walk right in - and then turn into that huge-ass dragon thing Kennedy saw in her dream."

"So we know where; we just need to figure out who," Fred said excitedly. "We need to figure out which office it's going to happen in, right?"

Kennedy saw all eyes turn to her. "Don't look at me, that thing was huge! I couldn't tell you where exactly it showed its ugly face - all I know is, it exploded out of the building roughly halfway up. It could have been out of any one of a thousand different offices..."

"We need to narrow it down," Xander replied, again rubbing the bridge of his nose in order to try to relieve the pain. { Damn it, this dosage obviously isn't enough... }

"No idea how long it's been in preparation, either. Back in Sunnydale, the Mayor spent over a hundred years getting ready for his shot," Oz said stoically.

"Well, that's the thing about being in the FBI; you get good at finding needles in a haystack," Fletcher announced.

"True, but maybe we should start looking in a different haystack." Xander said cryptically.

Somewhere on the streets of New York City. A while later

Xander pulled the coat tighter against his body, trying to stay warm. In his view, this city was almost as bad as Chicago with regards to how cold it got during winter. Oz, Fred and Kennedy followed close behind him, with Xander's security detail spread out and unobtrusively keeping an eye out for any possible dangers.

"So what's the plan again? And how does this count as a different haystack?" Kennedy asked, trying to bury her annoyance at playing 'follow the leader' like this. Slayers did tend to develop an "I'm in charge" mindset the longer they lived, after all, and Kennedy had been Chosen 2 1/2 years ago now.

"Fletcher, Zabuto, Smithers and the others are trying find this guy by examining his getting ready to be a demon. We need to look at this from the other side," Xander answered, not looking directly at her.

"What other side?" Kennedy was sincerely curious now.

"After the transformation, the demon's hungry. It needs to feed," Xander replied tonelessly.

"Yeah, and according to what I've read, it needs to eat people. Now, generally, people don't stand still just before they're about to be eaten, they run. The demon, it - it wouldn't really have that much strength to chase them all over the place," Fred reasoned. "Not right after the transformation, what with the birth trauma and all."

"Back in Sunnydale - the Mayor's solution was to recruit vampires to corral everyone into an area where he could snack on them," Oz said slowly.

"And I'm guessing this guy will probably be doing the same thing here," Xander added.

"Oh, now I get it!" Ms. Burkle said excitedly. "We find out who's been recruiting a lot of vampire or demon muscle lately, and that should lead us straight to the mage in question!"

"Right. So why are we here?" Kennedy asked. All this was very different from the way she and Zabuto operated in Cleveland; usually, her Watcher just gave her a target and she went out and Slayed it. Well, apart from patrol and that night back in August when those Vahrall demons had almost opened up the Hellmouth underneath that dance club - something she still didn't know Xander, Oz and Fred had provided covert assistance with, in preventing Armageddon.

Normally she wouldn't expect a direct answer, but Xander surprised her.

"Demon bar's the best place to start looking for the things who'll do a bad guy's dirty work." Xander held open the door leading into a dimly lit bar for the others.

Smoke filled the air as various vampires, demons and humans looked up at the new arrivals. After a few seconds, the buzz started up again and the patrons went back to their own business. Waiting until the security detail had slipped in by twos and threes, Xander and his entourage eventually made their way to the bar.

The bartender looked up as they approached. "Yeah?"

"Hey," Xander said. "Four beers."

The bartender - Xander could see the ragged ears and some bumps on his forehead that marked him as a demon - nodded towards an empty table in the back. "Welcome to sit over there, if you want. I don't want no trouble. My goddamn insurance premium is high enough, already!"

"Why would we cause trouble?" Kennedy asked, her face slightly contorted from her Slayersense going crazy - thanks to so many of the undead being in such close proximity to her.

"Ya think I haven't had a Slayer in here before? Back in '76, the Slayer- Wood, or whatever her name was - she did her best to put me outta business," the bartender said grouchily. "Plus I recognized you as well, Timetripper. Your face is staring to get famous, ya know? Bad things happen when *you* show up for a drink in a bar like mine. I just run a business, alright? And I don't want it blown up, like what happened to that place in Chicago six months ago!"

Xander nodded. "Understood. Just don't start telling everyone who I am, comprende? Or else this night is gonna be your last. You, and everyone else in this dump," Harris warned the demon barman, before he led the others to the offered table.

"Think he'll play ball?" Oz asked calmly, noting the stares from some fellow werewolves from the other end of the bar.

"If he's smart, and I'm thinking he is, then - yeah," Kennedy grumbled, looking back at the bartender. "Too bad; I was kinda wanting an excuse to tear this place apart."

"Well, the night's still young," Fred shrugged.

The two guys and two girls waited as a demon waitress brought them the beers. They quickly drank them in silence.

"Now what?" Kennedy eventually asked.

"Well, I figure we're in the right place. We, we just need to figure out whom to let tell us what we want to know," Fred babbled.

"Or, they could just come straight to us," Oz said, as he nodded towards two floppy-eared demons that were fast approaching their table.

They stopped in front of it in a respectful manner, staring exclusively at Xander. "Are you the Timetripper?" one of the supernatural creatures asked.

Xander scowled. "He's just a myth." { Plastic surgery, God damn it. Either that, or I gotta wear a disguise every time I go out in public from now on! }

"You seem to have a lot of protection for being a myth," the second demon nodded its head towards the various members of the security detail surrounding the quartet's table. "Or are they your fans?"

Kennedy looked at Xander. "You have fans? Why don't I have fans?"

Xander shook his head, ignoring the pain as best he could. "I don't recall ever getting a newsletter about a fan club. 'Course, my mailing address is something that I don't check very often."

"I was in Idaho," the first demon said, staring at Harris like he knew him from back then.

Xander and Oz exchanged a look. Kennedy spoke up, "Idaho, as in that place we fly over?"

Xander turned to the demons. "Prove that you were in Idaho."

"According to what that guy Toby Dupree told me happened, you actually stuck a gun into the sheriff's crotch and said, 'Sheriff Johnson, you got some 'splaining to do!'" the first Face-dancer said with a huge smile on its face.

Xander grimaced at the look Oz, Fred and Kennedy sent him. "Good enough. So, what can I do for you guys?"

"Well, actually, we were kinda wondering if there was anything we could do for you. Our people, uh, we like to pay our debts," the second Face-dancer said sheepishly.

Xander quickly made a decision that was mostly based on instinct. "What can you tell me about someone hiring a lot of demon muscle lately? Maybe vamps, maybe something else."

The two demons briefly stared at one another. "Well, there have been rumors about that sort of thing going around lately. Still, there are always rumors of some kind floating around places like this. If you don't mind my asking, what's something like that got to do with someone like you?"

Xander knew Cleburne would have a three-megaton fit if he was here right now, and heard him say what he was about to say; but he didn't care. He made his own decisions, even if the brass might not like them. "There's an Ascension coming. As in a pure demon walking the Earth - or flying through the air, or whatever. You understand what I'm saying?"

From the terrified looks that had appeared on the faces of the two non-violent demons, it seemed fairly obvious that they did.

Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. The same time

Gwen Raiden knew she was in real trouble, as the rest of the Fang Gang gathered around her body - which had been blasted backwards into the glass doors of the weapons cabinet, from the latest vision to assault her mind.

It had been a fairly slow night up until now; everyone but Cordelia had been present, and Angel's Avengers had been talking about setting up a surprise party for Ms. Chase - whose birthday was just a few weeks away. Off to one side, Darla had been feeding Connor and talking with Angel about Wolfram & Hart's latest offensive to steal their baby...which had been interrupted by a sudden legal attack on the firm by the U.S. government, led by a newly recruited government attorney...

Lindsey McDonald. The only lawyer to ever successfully get away from the evil law firm, apparently.

But then Gwen's head had almost exploded, and now the Electra Girl found herself outside her own body in a rather bizarre case of astral projection.

"Gwen? Gwen!" Gunn shouted, cursing as he went to reach down and touch her - and then he hurriedly back off, knowing that to do so would kill him.

"She's still alive. She's still breathing, and her heart's still beating," Darla said, handing Connor off to his father and ignoring the lethal electric shocks as she examined the comatose brunette for herself. Darla stepped back, her heart beating once or twice from the shocks as she calmed herself down.

"This - is getting too weird," Gwen muttered, before she tried to get everyone's attention but failed miserably. Desperate, she stood right in front of Wesley - but the British man walked right through her astral form. "Yuck!"

"We gotta get Gwen to a hospital!" Charles sounded very worried.

"What do you think the doctors there are gonna do, Gunn? I'll tell you what they'll do - the same thing they did with Cordelia a few years ago, when she had a vision overload thanks to that demon named Vocah. They'll put Gwen into a smelly hospital bed, hook up all kinds of machines to her body, and eventually tell us that they don't understand what's going on - and that they can't help her," Angel said pessimistically.

"But-" Charles started to protest.

"No, Gunn, trust me; we gotta solve this ourselves," Angel said firmly. "Call Lorne and tell him to get over here pronto. Wes, you hit the books. I'll check on Cordelia, make sure something like this hasn't happened to her as well. Darla, help me move Gwen to the couch..."

Ms. Raiden could only watch helplessly, as Angel handed off Connor to Wesley and the Angel Investigations crew swung into action. It turned out that Cordelia was more-or-less fine, and had received the same vision she had; of a three-eyed Skilosh demon which was about to attack a bus full of people. So Angel reluctantly had to go out and play hero, and there was nothing to do except wait until Lorne showed up.

"Jumping Judas on a unicycle. What happened here?" the Host of Caritas demanded, as the anagogic demon walked through the front doors of the hotel. "I was right in the middle of some serious wedding preparations, guys and girls, when I got your phone call. What gives?"

"Gwen's in a coma," said Gunn, the worry obvious to everyone present. "Just after she had another one of those goddamn visions. You gotta do something, man!"

"Ooh, I'm picking up some hardcore woo-woo vibes in the room. This ain't medical, kids. It's mystical," Lorne said regretfully. He closed his eyes and held up his arms, using long-ignored Pylean techniques to try to figure out what was wrong with the vision girl.

"Are you picking up anything?" Wesley asked, putting down the latest tome he'd been reading.

"Nope. Not a darn thing," Lorne reported, which caused Gwen's astral form to sigh in exasperation.

"Well, try again!" Gunn ordered him roughly.

"Ah, sorry if I didn't make myself clear, big guy; but when I said I wasn't picking up anything, I mean that literally. Gwen's not in there anymore."

"Well, yeah, I already knew that!" Ms. Raiden barked out regarding Lorne's comment, even though no one heard her.

"What do ya mean, she's not in there anymore?!" Charles looked like he was officially starting to freak out.

"I mean your girl is gone, Slim Jim. As in the lights are on, but no one's home right now," the Host of Caritas pointed at Gwen's body. "And there's nothing *I* can do about that."

"So what exactly are you saying, Lorne? Gwen's essence is currently astral-projecting, or something like that?" Wesley asked, the ex-Watcher's big squishy lobes working overtime to try to figure out a solution to this problem.

"Yes! That's it! I'm astral projecting! Now, just figure out a way to put me back in my body! Call the Siberians on this, if you have to!" Gwen shouted loudly, albeit pointlessly.

"That's one possibility," Lorne nodded in reply to Wesley's question. "I got some people I need to talk to who might be able to help. I'll be back - just make sure ya keep our beautiful young thief here alive until then, okay?"

"We'll do our best," Wes promised, just as Connor began to cry and Darla took her infant son upstairs for some peace and quiet; leaving the black man and the Englishman alone. "Charles?"

"She might die, man. She might die tonight, and I never even told Gwen how I really feel about her," Gunn shook his head, looking as if he was trapped in the middle of a nightmare.

"I'm sure she knows, Gunn. Just about everyone around here does by now. I mean, it's hardly a secret that you two have been growing...closer...over the past few months," Wesley said rather awkwardly.

"Still shoulda said something, English," Gunn responded hollowly. "Guess I forgot how short life can be, after I hooked up with you guys. Back when I was leading my own crew, I'd have told her in a frickin' heartbeat. I've gotten soft, that's what it is!"

"Oh, damn it, Gunn - will you *stop* with the stupid blame game and pity party already?!" Gwen shouted. "I'm not gonna die! I...uh-oh..." the ghostly young woman trailed off, as black smoke suddenly materialized in front of her.

The smoke then solidified into a silver-colored, armored demon. "Hi there. Name's Skip."

"Skip?" Gwen repeated in amazement. "Who ever heard of a demon named Skip?"

"Well, what can I tell you? My mother was a comedienne," Skip shrugged. Then he caught sight of the body on the couch and nodded to himself. "You're Gwen Raiden, right? Sorry it took me so long to get here, traffic was a real bitch."

"Whatever. Okay, pal, let's hear it; exactly who are you? And did the Siberians send you to help me?" Gwen demanded. "If they did, I'm actually kinda surprised. I wouldn't have thought Marcum would be able to talk Jarhead into it!"

"You have questions. I get that. And I'll answer them, too, promise - but first, we gotta get out of here," Skip said.

"Why?" Gwen said suspiciously. Then she stripped off the glove from her right arm.

"Bottom line? You don't belong here anymore," Skip said rather cryptically. "Come on." He reached out to grab her shoulder, and Gwen instantly blasted him with her powers...

...or at least she tried to, but nothing happened. There was no lightning barrage, not even a spark of electricity. Gwen couldn't believe it as she muttered, "What the-?"

"Astral projection. Your powers are tied to your body, which you're currently not inhabiting," Skip explained, looking regretful. "Lemme cut to the chase, Ms. Raiden - you can stay here, or you can come with me. But you choose door number one, then you're gonna die very soon. On account of a human body can't last without its soul for too long. So what's it gonna be?"

"Can you *really* help me?" Gwen demanded.

"It's why I'm here," Skip nodded.

"All right, then tell Wes and Gunn here-" the Electra Girl started to say.

"Sorry, no can do. I'm not a messenger; I'm just a guide," the evil demon mercenary lied with a perfectly straight face. "Now, you coming or not?"

Gwen thought about it for a few seconds. Even though she hated to admit it, she was scared; in fact, more scared than she had ever been in her entire life. She felt helpless without her powers; trapped and alone, apart from this demon stranger who had literally shown up out of nowhere. Did she dare trust him?

Slowly, Gwen nodded. Without a word, Skip put a huge silver hand on her shoulder, and both human and demon vanished with a flash of blue light.

A place where nothing is as what it seems. A moment later

Gwen looked around, blinking to clear the flash of blue light from her eyes. "What the-? Is this the Gulag?" the female seer demanded, looking around the deserted room which looked exactly like STW headquarters in Georgetown, Washington D.C. She then turned around to face Skip. "I thought this was a demon no-go zone. So what gives?"

"Ah, maybe I should explain; this isn't actually the mortal realm. It's - well, I guess you could call it the astral plane," Skip explained. "It's not the real deal, just a construct - something we thought you'd find at least somewhat reassuring."

"Who's 'we'?" Gwen demanded.

Skip shrugged. "The Powers That Be."

"The same people who've been slowly killing me, with all the visions that I've been getting lately?" Ms. Raiden demanded sarcastically. "Look, let's cut the crap. Why did you bring me here?!"

"To give you a choice, but we'll get into that a bit later. First off, I've got something to show you." With that, Skip activated the room's projector screen and killed the lights as the show got started.

"That's me," Gwen said suspiciously, seeing herself creeping through some dark building. "And Cordelia? Hang on - this is the night I got the visions from her!" Gwen exclaimed, seeing herself slap a gloved hand over Cordelia's lips. And then the Native American artifact hanging around Ms. Chase's neck started to glow like a supernova, as blue light flowed from Cordy's mouth all over the thief's body.

"Yep. This is where it happened; the big cosmic whoops. That girl was never meant to give you her visions," Skip said gravely, but inwardly he was laughing over how easy all this was turning out to be.

"So, then, why'd it happen? Better yet, why did the Powers *let* it happen?" Gwen demanded.

"The big stuff like life and death, that sort of thing, they've got a handle on. Free will, though, that's a totally different kettle of fish. And humans have free will in spades, even though they're lacking in other areas. See, thing is - the visions are an ancient, powerful force. Demons are the only ones who can withstand them; or even half-demons, like that guy named Doyle. You've heard of him, right?"

"Yeah," Gwen nodded. "He was the one who got the visions for Angel before Cordelia."

"And then that Vision Boy died, but we're kinda getting off the point. This," Skip gestured towards the screen, where the scene with Cordelia and Gwen had been frozen, "this is the night that your life changed for the worse. You had a good thing going with the Men in Black; you were part of a team, and you did what you did best. Namely, steal stuff for a good cause. But after what happened at that museum? Your destiny went off-track in a huge way."

"What are you talking about? Hall - sorry, Harris - he said that I was *supposed* to end up with Angel and his friends. So what if I hooked up with them a year or so early?" Ms. Raiden asked suspiciously.

"Ah, well, that's the thing. That guy, the so-called Timetripper? Don't forget how he's freely admitted that he doesn't know everything regarding what happened in Los Angeles, in that other timeline," Skip said candidly. "According to the original cosmic design, you were meant to meet up with the vampire and his crew, sure. That guy named Gunn? He was supposed to help you get that L.I.S.A. thing, to get your powers under control. To let you actually be able to touch another human being. Never gonna happen now, though."

"What Lisa thing? What are you talking about?" Gwen asked with mixed confusion and hope in her voice.

"Doesn't matter, my point is - you were meant to meet those people, but not the way you did. Not as a seer as well as a thief," Skip said truthfully. "Ms. Raiden, the truth is that ever since history reset itself - you were meant to accomplish great things with the secret agent men, not die from something you never should have gotten in the first place. That's why we're here. That's what the Powers are offering you - a chance to make that happen."

Gwen couldn't believe it. "Are you telling me the PTBs can actually turn back time, and prevent me from ever getting the visions that night?"

"Actually, they don't go for that - much. Think of it more as 'writing over history'," Skip shrugged. "Accept what the Powers are offering and from this moment on, you get back to living the life you've always wanted. As in no pain medication, no visions, no dying. Well, not for a long time, anyway."

"What about Charles?" Gwen demanded. "In this brand new life you're offering me, would we still have a chance to be together one day?"

Even though the mercenary demon said nothing, his silence nonetheless spoke volumes.

"Okay, then, forget it!" Gwen said angrily.

"Gwen - do you mind if I call you that? Thanks," Skip said hurriedly at perceiving the brunette's nod. "Look, lemme explain to you exactly how this works. If you say no to the Powers' offer, then you'll go back inside your body - and you *won't* wake up again. Ever. You'll just lie there, unable to move, unable to speak - until the next vision hits you, and then you'll die. So tell me this - do you *really* want to choose that road? Because that's the only other option available now. Your friends in Los Angeles and Washington - they'll try to help you, to save you - but they'll fail."

"How do you know that?"

"Have you even looked at the state of your brain lately?" Skip demanded. "What with all the damage, it's too late for conventional or even mystical cures anymore. Live or die, Gwen. You've got to decide. Right now."

A few moments later, after Skip obligingly let her see what was going on within the Hyperion hotel right now - namely, Gunn furiously demanding to know how the hell it had ever come to this, and why she hadn't told him how bad the brain damage had become - Gwen Raiden made her choice.

Raiden residence, Los Angeles, California. The same time in a different place

Gwen woke up alone in her bed, the annoying sound of the landline telephone's buzzing having interrupted her pleasant dream. "Hello?"

"Good evening, Ms. Raiden. Did I call at a bad time?" the voice of Esther Marcum said over the line.

"No, I was just fast asleep. What's up?" Gwen yawned. She didn't find it odd that Esther was openly calling her at her apartment, something the black woman hadn't done since the female thief had joined Angel Investigations; because Gwen had made her choice, and decided to accept Skip's offer. Which meant that (in her mind) she had never been cursed with the visions last year.

"We have a situation in New York, I'm afraid. Mr. Howard and his friends are on the scene to handle it, but since we have a potential Ascension on our hands..." Esther started to say.

"A what? No, never mind - I don't care," Gwen said rudely, annoyed at having been woken up just now. "Look, do you need me to steal something or not?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"Well, then, call me when you do. On account of I'm still a bit pissed off regarding that last job I did for you people. You remember, that thing with those Nyazian scrolls?" Gwen complained, referring to the job that (in the real world) she and Gunn had done together.

Esther chuckled, the spy handler knew how to deal with her pet thief. "Would an extra five thousand dollars to cover your costs help in smoothing ruffled feathers a little?"

"Well, it's a start," Gwen said, dialing down the annoyance. "I suppose."

"You're just upset that we gave away those scrolls to Angel for nothing, aren't you?"

"Hey, he's a freaking vampire!" Gwen shot back, her ire climbing once more. "Okay, Ha - Howard convinced me that the darn thing's not a target, since he has a soul now. But since when are we in the business of *helping* the damn bloodsuckers?"

"Since an innocent unborn child's life was at stake," Esther replied sharply. "As a parent, I can sympathize with Angel's desperation for information back then. And Mr. Howard made it clear that if we *didn't* help his undead friend, our little arrangement was over. Such is the art of compromise, Ms. Raiden; you should bear that in mind, as well as ask Angel if he knows anything that might help us with the New York Ascension."

"Fine. And call me again when you actually need me, on account of this conversation is officially over. How's *that* for compromise?!" Gwen snarled, and slammed down the telephone receiver.

In a foul mood, Gwen got up, got dressed and made herself a late-night snack. But try as she might, the young woman couldn't get the phone conversation with Esther out of her mind. { Damn it, what's wrong with me? Why the hell do I feel like I just woke upon the wrong side of the universe or something? }

Unable to answer that question, Gwen left her apartment and got on her specially modified motorbike, taking a drive to clear her head. Without fully realising where she was going, Ms. Raiden soon found herself roaring down Hyperion Boulevard and screeching to a halt in front of the Hyperion hotel. { 'Kay, this is gettin' weird. I know Marcum wanted me to check in with the Deadite, but since when am I in such a hurry to obey orders like this? }

Almost feeling as if she was caught up in some sort of dream, Gwen slowly made her way inside the hotel. Angel - or a more haggard-looking version of him, anyway - looked up from the couch after sensing her arrival. "Can I help you?"

"I sure as heck hope so," Gwen said irascibly. "Name's Gwen Raiden, I'm with Siberian Trip Wire."

Angel instantly shot up. "What's wrong? Is Xander in trouble?"

"I dunno. Maybe. Did anyone tell you he's in New York, trying to stop something called a...an Ascension, I think my boss called it?" Gwen asked.

Angel's eyes went wide with horrified understanding, before he turned around and rushed up the stairs without a word. Confused, Gwen followed him - wondering all the while why this place felt so *familiar*. Because the thief knew for a fact that she had never set foot inside this hotel even once, before today.

"Gunn? Gunn!" Angel shouted, as he opened the door to one of the hotel rooms. "I need your help!"

"Who's this?" Gwen gestured at the black man laying stiff as a board on the bed with his eyes closed.

Angel briefly turned back to face her. "My seer, Charles Gunn."

Gwen frowned. "I thought you had some brunette chick who was your connection to the PTBs?"

"Cordelia? She died. The visions killed her, but not before she passed them onto her boyfriend...Gunn! Wake up!" Angel shouted at the new Vision Boy.

The bald black man kept his eyes firmly shut, though. Then Gunn started muttering to himself, mumbling something in a strange language.

"Damn it! I gotta go find Wes - stay here and keep an eye on him for me, will you? If Gunn says anything comprehensible, write it down on that piece of paper over there!" Angel said quickly, before vanishing out the door.

"You okay, fella?" Gwen asked, not really expecting a reply. Although, oddly enough, she got one.

"The visions. Nothing I could do," Gunn said in a near-whisper, his eyes still firmly shut. "Not my fault. Couldn't save her. Couldn't save me. Not my fault. Not my fault..."

{ This guy is seriously whacked, } Gwen thought to herself, sinking to her knees beside the bed. { It can't have been that long since he started getting the visions, either; how did he get so loopy so fast? }

"Can't help. Can't help. That Box. Soldier Guy. The Slayer. Can't help," Gunn muttered thickly.

"Hey. It's gonna be okay, pal..." Gwen said compassionately. She leaned closer, their lips almost touching. "It's gonna be...okay..."

And just like that, a blue light erupted from Gunn's mouth into Gwen's as the thief suddenly fell over from the shock factor.

"I remember..." Gwen said in amazement as she got up off her ass, and stared at Skip - who had appeared out of nowhere within the hotel suite. "The visions? They belong to *me*, not him!"

"We made a deal, Gwen. You gave up the visions, not to mention the certain death that goes with them, and you get to live your life. Call me crazy, but I thought that was a pretty fair trade, myself," Skip said chidingly.

"Screw that," Gwen said scornfully. "You never said that I'd be trading my life for Gunn's! That wasn't part of the deal!"

"You *do* know that old saying about how you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs, right?" Skip riposted even as he thought to himself, { Okay, we're almost there. I just need to trick her into willingly let me do what I'm being paid for, before putting an end to this dumb dream of hers... }

"I don't care - the price is too high. Damn it! Isn't there some way I can keep my vision powers and live? Some kind of loophole you can exploit?" Gwen demanded.

"Maybe I wasn't entirely clear on the matter before, but humans are not strong enough to harbor the visions! Period. Even the Powers That Be can't change this particular fact," Skip said, before looking at her reflectively. "But having said that...there might be one *tiny* loophole of the type you're looking for."

"What is it?"

"Okay, bear with me. It's just barely possible that you could keep the visions and live - by becoming part demon," Skip said gravely, entering the final stretch of his little song and dance act.

"WHAT?" Gwen shouted, instantly recalling what Skip had said about Doyle earlier on.

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, the process isn't easy; heck, it'll make the vision pain feel like a stroll through Candyland. And even after the pain subsides, the effects of the transition will be numerous and unpredictable. You may never be able to lead a normal human life again," Skip told the Electra Girl.

"Like the life I lead now is even remotely what you might call 'normal'?" Gwen shot back, turning around to glance at Gunn; who was now frozen in time. { Oh, what the hell. It's either this or dying - or else watch Gunn go nuts, and eventually die. }

"Demonize me already."

{ At last! } Skip thought to himself greedily before saying, "It was an honor being your guide, Gwen Raiden." He then raised his hand; an intense blue light illuminated the room and Gwen stumbled back, screaming in pain.

Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. A few seconds later

On the couch in the hotel's lobby Gwen's body arched up, even as she started screaming in pain. Gunn rushed to her side at once, as the rest of the gang came running as well.

Cordelia, who had finally arrived at the hotel after hearing the situation regarding her fellow seer, said, "What's happening to her?"

"I dunno! Gwen, can you hear me?" Gunn demanded.

Gwen opened her eyes, gasped, and then grabbed hold of her head. "No horns..." the brunette said, despite the strange look it earned her from the others. Gwen then checked out her backside, before smiling up at Gunn. "No tail, either. Oh, thank God!"

Angel looked at the others, but no one was willing to volunteer an opinion on the Vision Girl's weird behavior. "Gwen, are you feeling okay? And - why do you smell different now?" the ensouled vampire asked in confusion.

"Long story, but bottom line - I've become part demon," Gwen answered hurriedly, before getting up off of the couch.

"WHAT?" Angel, Darla, Wes, Cordy and Gunn all shouted at the same time.

"Yeah. Huh, I wonder..." Gwen mused, before taking off her gloves. She tried to let loose with a lightning bolt, but - nothing happened. "Holy crap. The electricity - I think it's gone. I might actually be able to - reach out and touch someone..."

That was all Gunn needed to hear before he grabbed Gwen and plunged his lips onto hers, savoring her touch, her taste, her - everything.

Perhaps not surprisingly, for the next three days Angel's Avengers saw no sign of either Charles Gunn or Gwen Raiden, after the new couple had disappeared inside the black man's bedroom upstairs.

New York City, New York. A few hours later

Xander rubbed his forehead as he leaned up against the alley wall. Oz and Fred stood nearby as Kennedy walked towards to them whistling, brushing some dust off her jacket.

"So, how did it go?" Fred asked.

"The vamp was recruited by our guy, just like those floppy-eared demons said. However, the bloodsucker didn't know jack who's pulling the middleman demon's strings. All he knew was that he was going to get a call soon, regarding the when and where. No, that's not entirely accurate; he *did* tell me what he'd done with the down-payment he'd already gotten for the job, but since I doubt anyone here cares..."

"What number was the middleman going to call?" Xander asked.

Kennedy tossed him a cell phone. "In addition to the down-payment, that demon handed out a free cell phone."

"Lots of bucks being put into this project," Oz commented. "Should be a way to trace them."

"Yeah, and I think we know someone who can do it," Xander answered thoughtfully.

The STW office conference room. A few minutes later

Agent Fletcher was typing away on his laptop when there was a knock on the door. Malcolm looked up and said, "Harris, Gunny was wondering when you would check in. He was starting to worry."

Xander chuckled. "Mother Hen worry, or normal worry?"

"Normal worry, he hasn't gotten into Mother Hen territory yet."

"Well, you can let him know we've got a lead. Actually, it's a lead that's right up your alley."

"Do tell, what do you have?"

"We found the recruiter for the Ascension wannabe. It looks like he's spending money like there's no tomorrow, which may actually be the case."

"And you want to know where he's getting the money from?"

"You got it. Can you do anything with this stuff?" Xander asked as he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket.

"You know, before I became an FBI agent - I was an accountant. Even within the Bureau, my first couple of assignments involved cracking white collar business fraud." Fletcher reached out his hand. "It'll be good getting back to my roots for a while. Lemme see what I can find."

The same place. Several hours later

"Got him," Fletcher said succinctly, as the others sitting at the table looked up at him while Malcolm entered the room. On the table in front of them were various folders and the cell phone that they had taken from the vampire.

"You found our mage?" Oz asked.

"Yes. I couldn't track the money - at least, not at first. However, there was something more tangible to trace."

"The cell phone," Fred said knowingly.

"Yeah, I figured the perp would have had to buy a lot of them," Fletcher said. "So I tracked down the serial number of the one we had. I then determined the lot number, and I then tracked the lot. I thought that since whoever was behind this was buying a large number of phones, they'd buy in bulk to cut down on cost."

"And did they?" Xander asked.

"You bet - never underestimate the power of a green eyeshade mindset. Anyway, the lot was bought by a corporation based out of Boston. Now, that corporation had no direct connection to the Empire State Building that I could find. However, I thought the name was worth noting."

"And that was?" Kennedy asked.

"Crowley Imports Limited."

Zabuto raised an eyebrow. "Crowley Imports? Now that's interesting." He turned to the others. "Not only was Bernard Crowley the Watcher for the 1970s Slayer Nikki Wood, but his distantly related ancestor Alastair Crowley was an occultist born in England during the 1870s. He was...unconventional, to say the least. Alastair Crowley was roundly denounced during his lifetime as the wickedest man in the world."

"That's quite a rap. So who would want to name a company after him?" Kennedy asked.

"Particularly since it was incorporated in his lifetime, in fact - less than a year before his death," Fletcher continued on. "I tried to follow the phone lot, but the trail went cold when Crowley Limited took control of them."

"A dead end, then?" Gunny asked as he walked in behind Fletcher.

"No, I started looking for connections between the import company and anybody in the Empire State Building. I found a few links."

"And?" Xander prompted.

"Most of them are normal, the kind of things you would find in the normal course of business. However, one link stood out from the crowd." Fletcher leaned down and slid a manila folder across the desk. "Thelema Trading was incorporated the very same month as Crowley Imports. It even used the same law firm."

Xander looked up. "Wolfram & Hart?"

"Bingo. I think we have our connection," Fletcher answered.

Xander leaned back, massaging his temples. "It all fits. And how much does anyone wanna bet that Old Man Crowley is not, in fact, actually dead?"

Suddenly, the cell phone on the conference table started vibrating. Everyone exchanged looks, before Kennedy spoke first. "Ah, did we give anyone this number?"

"No," Oz replied.

"So someone calling is calling the vamp," Xander said bluntly, as he reached for the phone before anyone could stop him. "Yes."

Xander listened for a few seconds. "Where? Okay, when? How much more? Okay." He then hung up. He turned to the group. "Hopefully, he bought it. And looks like the pure demon wannabe needs muscle at an airport - I couldn't ask which one, the middleman seemed to think the vampire would know. Anyway, wherever it is, he wants his muscle there at midnight."

Fletcher spoke up, "I think I might know the answer to that one." He leaned over and pulled open one of the folders. "Here. Crowley Imports maintains a hangar at a private airport on Long Island. They have to file a flight plan before they can use the airport. If they're flying something in, they have to follow procedure to avoid arousing suspicions..."

The STW office conference room. December 22, 2001

Smithers, Fletcher and Zabuto were watching a series of monitors that had been hastily set up within the conference room, during the last half-hour. On them were a series of images from infrared cameras on the drones flying over the airport in question, as the clock struck midnight.

"This looks like the place; given the number of vampires wandering around, that tells me that something is about to happen here," Smithers commented. "Their lack of body heat stands out quite dramatically in comparison to the demons and everyone else, doesn't it?"

At the same time, Xander responded by a radio as he watched the same scene they were also, only through his own eyes and without having to use the cameras of the drones. "Hell yeah, it's bloodsucker central down there. Not to mention what looks like quite a few demons."

"We're tracking an inbound plane, about ten minutes out," Fletcher said. "I suspect that's what they're all waiting for."

"Good guess, they sure seem to be getting ready for something," Xander replied.

"Any sign of Mr. Crowley?" Smithers asked from the conference room.

"Not yet, but odds are he won't be far. This is too big for him to miss," Fred said excitedly as she lay on the ground next to Xander, Oz and the STW commandos, watching the airport.

"Back in Sunnydale, the Mayor took a personal interest in the Box of Gavrock, so I figure that Crowley will do the same here," Xander commented. He was still annoyed to this day over how Mr. Trick had managed to distract both Angel and himself while Wilkins had transported his Box to a safe place (which had *not* been City Hall) back then, but still - there was no point on dwelling on past mistakes now.

Besides, good old Dick had gotten what was coming to him soon afterwards, even if that version of the Ascension had cost Faith her life.

"Yes, so when Crowley shows up, we make our move. That way, we don't have to go looking for him. He's been hiding for a long time, so no doubt he's very good at it," Fletcher stated.

After roughly ten or eleven minutes, the roar of a loud engine signalled the approach of a small private jet. The jet landed and taxied to where the demons and vampires were waiting. While the jet was doing that, Xander and the others hurried into the jeeps that were sitting nearby.

The jet came fully to a stop, the hatch opened up and the steps extended out from the plane. A demon wearing a suit and glasses stepped out, as weird as that looked to the casual observer, and started walking down the steps.

From a nearby hangar, a Rolls Royce pulled out and started driving towards the plane.

"Showtime," Fletcher said into his microphone. "Everyone, GO!"

The Rolls Royce stopped a few yards away from the steps, and the demon walked towards it. The chauffeur came out from the driver's seat to the rear door, and opened it up. A young woman in a business suit subsequently stepped out of the limo.

"Do you have it?" she asked.

The demon middleman nodded. "Of course. Does he have the money?"

The woman looked into the Rolls Royce. She reached in, and took a satchel from what appeared to be a middle-aged man sitting inside the car. The female turned around and handed the satchel to the demon, as the chauffeur got back behind the wheel.

The demon middleman opened up the satchel and looked in. "Good..." He then turned to the jet and nodded. A pair of demons emerged, carrying down the steps a large chest with strange-looking, mystical carvings on it.

The demons got to the Rolls Royce and placed the Box of Gavrock on the ground in front of the young woman. They opened it up a crack. The woman looked back into the Rolls Royce and nodded. Two vampires stepped forward from the group surrounding the jet, taking custody of the Box and anticipating their pay now that the deal had been sealed...

But as the old saying goes, when you assume - it always makes an ass out of you and me.

A series of bright lights came on, as the government jeeps emerged from behind the hangars around the jet. "Federal agents! Drop your weapons and get on the ground, NOW!" a voice boomed out from a loudspeaker somewhere.

"Get in!" the woman shouted at the two vampires, before they climbed into the back seat of the Rolls Royce with the Box. She then slammed the car door shut behind her, before the vehicle sped away from the jet.

STW commandos surrounded the demons and vampires that remained behind, while a military helicopter hovered in front of the jet - its guns more than enough incentive for the pilot not to try anything stupid.

For his part, the glasses-wearing demon middleman looked around, before he dropped the satchel of money and raised his hands in resignation. {I *knew* I should have refused to take part in any of this.}

Not far away, the Rolls Royce made its way through the narrow road between hangars. The tires skidded, as the Rolls Royce quickly turned the corner into another street. The limo stopped suddenly, though - the brakes protesting madly against the quick halt, with a loud squeal filling the night air.

Standing twenty yards down the alley was Kennedy, twirling an axe in her hands. She smirked at the sight before her. "A Rolls Royce, huh? Me, I prefer a Bentley."

A few seconds later, the Rolls accelerated straight at her. "Oh, goody!" Kennedy started running at the enemy vehicle.

As the Rolls got closer, Kennedy tensed - and then leapt inhumanly high into the air. As she started her ascent, she brought down the axe and embedded it in the hood of the car, going all the way through to the engine block. From deep inside the vehicle, the sound of someone cursing loudly could be heard...

The Rolls Royce started swerving from side to side, hitting the hangar walls as it did. The limo then slammed into a group of garbage cans before coming to a rest, the hood flipping open. Kennedy landed on her feet several yards away, and smiled at her handiwork.

"I don't care what Daddy says, I would have totally *ruled* at the Olympic Games last year!" the brunette said exuberantly.

"Slayer."

Kennedy turned and barely managed to avoid the chauffeur swinging at her with a pipe.

"Stay still!" she - no, it growled, as Kennedy could now see it was a demon of some kind as part of the human disguise (its sunglasses) was missing.

"No, a demon that can't hit me can't hurt me. I like it that way."

"I like it the other way."

Kennedy turned around in response to the statement from behind her. The woman in the business suit was standing there, vamped out. "What do you know, the charm Mr. Crowley gave me worked - you didn't even sense me at all." The female vamp subsequently punched Kennedy hard.

"Looks like I can hurt you; and if I can, Boris can too," the vampire said as the chauffeur/demon swung the pipe again, knocking Kennedy off her feet. She rolled to left as the vampiress followed up with a kick to the Slayer's midsection.

An attempt at a second kick was stopped, when Kennedy grabbed the inbound foot. She flipped the vampire onto its back, as the Chosen One scurried up - dodging the pipe from her demon attacker as she did so. { Where the hell is my backup, damn it? }

She kicked out at Boris - a name one wouldn't normally associate with a female-looking chauffeur, but what the hell. The demon grunted in response and dropped the pipe. Kennedy followed up with a series of punches that Boris vainly tried to block...

Boris blinked and tried to get her bearings when the beating finally, blessedly stopped. But - that was when she saw the hood of the Rolls headed straight towards her face. A loud thud reverberated through the alley, as the hood finished its journey to Boris' face. Boris quickly fell forward onto the ground, not moving once she arrived there.

"Now, where did that undead bitch go?" Kennedy wondered.

"Behind you," was the reply to the Slayer's question, as the undead woman grabbed Kennedy's throat.

"Night's not been a total waste, the boss got the Box - and I'm about to bag me a Slayer!" she hissed, as the female vampire bared her fangs. Suddenly, her eyes went wide. "Noooo!"

The soulless demon exploded into dust, her inner skeleton visible for one timeless moment before the ashes slowly settled onto the ground.

"I. Don't. Think. So," Xander said firmly, as he put away the stake he had just used on the female vampire.

Kennedy got her bearings, dusting the remains of the vampiress off her. "Thanks, TT, I owe you. You saved my butt, pal!"

Xander nodded, he was almost as high as a kite right now from all the extra meds he'd taken to ensure the pain from Kennedy's presence was no longer an issue - but he was still able to concentrate enough to say, "And to think that this time, I kept both eyes!"

Kennedy frowned and was about to ask a question, when she saw movement from the back of the Rolls Royce. "Oh yeah, almost forgot." She stalked over to the limo and yanked out what appeared to be a middle-aged man - but who was most definitely a lot older than that. The two piles of dust she ignored, figuring those vampires who had jumped into the back seat had gotten exactly what they deserved anyway.

"Hey, fella. Merry Christmas, how you liking the Big Apple so far?" Kennedy drawled sarcastically.

Crowley struggled for a second. "Slayer," he almost hissed at Kennedy. He then saw Xander and stopped resisting. "You. The Timetripper, you have no idea what you've just done..."

"Really! 'Cause I'm feeling *stoked* from stopping an Ascension before it even got started!" Harris giggled, causing Kennedy to look concerned at him. "Sure, bit of an anti-climax and all, but then I'm not gonna complain about that."

The STW office conference room. Two hours later

"So, Crowley's on his way to Gitmo?" Cleburne asked, his image on the main video screen in the conference room.

"Saw him off myself. He's in a military transport, fully sedated and on his way to his new home," Gunny replied.

"Good. I hear the welcoming committee is eagerly waiting for him," Cleburne said. "Was he any more forthcoming with the comments he made, when the kid and the Slayer nabbed him?"

Fletcher shook his head. "No, he clammed up afterwards completely. Not one word even when he banged his head, while they were putting him on the plane."

"Guess I'm not surprised. All right, I'll keep you notified of what the interrogators at Gitmo find out," Cleburne commented. "And FYI, Crowley Imports Limited offices are being raided across the nation. Fletcher, I imagine that should give you quite a bit to follow up on. Zabuto, Smithers, your Watcher buddies are doing the same over in England. They tell me they've found stuff that's causing *quite* a bit of interest."

"That should keep them happy. Maybe they can reward us, 'cause I for one have got some ideas regarding a vacation in the Bahamas!" Kennedy said with a chuckle.

"Yes, Kennedy, I am sure that the Council would be most eager to accommodate you on that," Zabuto said with a headshake. He turned back to the screen, "And may I inquire about the materials seized?"

"On their way to Warehouse 13 by heavily armed transport, we've seized them and want experts ready to study them. Smithers, could you supply recommendations from the Watchers about how to deal with them?"

"Certainly, General. I've already contacted London and they are forwarding a list of experts and suggestions to you," Smithers replied.

"Oh joy, more night time reading for me."

"Don't worry, Mother Hen," Xander spoke up, having come down from his drug-induced high earlier on. "I'm sure you can tape the Walker Texas Ranger Christmas special and watch it later." The group chuckled at the jibe.

Cleburne smirked back at Xander. "If you want, kid, I'll even get you a copy of it. And on that note, I'll expect you, Oz and Ms. Burkle back home in Virginia tomorrow. Mr. Zabuto, Ms. Greene, thank you for all your help. Gunny will be coordinating getting you back to Cleveland, so good luck and good hunting." The STW Director quickly reached off screen and the video monitor turned black.

"Is he always that friendly?" Kennedy asked.

"That's General Cleburne on a good day, actually," Gunny commented. "Come on, I'll call for a car to drive you two to the airport."

"Okay, but not before I put that demon bar I visited out of business first," Kennedy decided. She recalled exactly what that bartender had said within the establishment, just a few scant hours ago - about one of her predecessors failing to complete the job, back in the era of disco and blaxploitation.

And even if that hadn't been an issue, there had been a sufficient number of soulless vampires in there in order to make this her best visit to New York *ever*.

A place where nothing need be what it seems. December 24, 2001

Anya counted the money in her hands while she did the "Dance of Capitalist Superiority" within the Magic Box. Life for her was not too bad right now, all things considered.

"Get your groove on, girl."

Anya looked up in surprise to see a black-haired beauty in a red tank top and jeans staring at her from the doorway. { What's she doing here? We're closed! }

Anya then frowned, she was *sure* she had locked the front entrance to the magic store. Still, a sale was a sale as the shopkeeper quickly straightened up and greeted her customer. "Welcome to the Magic Box, please come in and spend your money here."

"Not here for anything to do with money, demon girl," the raven-haired female teen said, as she folded her arms over her chest. "Name's Faith, and I'm here to give you some advice."

"Advice? What advice?"

"Namely, that you got a shot with him; so don't blow it. You made it to the playoffs. Competition is tough, sure, but you're still in the game. Heck, you played the game pretty well during the first go-around."

Anya frowned in confusion. "What?'

Dream Faith smiled. "Don't worry, you can wake up now."

Anya immediately shot up in bed within her apartment. She looked around the darkened bedroom, and saw Andrew sleeping beside her. Anya muttered, "Oh. Well, that can't be good, can it?"

TBC...