A Call Away

by Jess S1

Buffy and Charlie get used to living apart again, but still working together and helping each other as their bond continues to grow. Sequel to 'First Meeting' - Part 2 in M&M.

7. Chapter 6: Mortal Peril P1 of 4

Disclaimers: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. Numb3rs belongs to Cheryl Heuton and Nick Falacci…I think. (NOT me!)
AN: Hi guys. This chapter is mostly transitional, but there's some good parts in it too, so please enjoy.

Thanks again to to NeverTooOld for beta-reading. ^_^

Warnings: None that I can think of… I could say Spoilers for various Buffy and Angel, and maybe earlier NUMB3RS episodes, but since we've already come this far it seems a little superfluous. Still. This is fan fiction. A Buffy: The Vampire Slayer (plus some Angel) crossover with NUMB3RS. There may be spoilers. There, you've been warned. Now please enjoy the chapter.

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A Call Away

Part II in Mathematics & Magic

By Jess S

Chapter 6: Mortal Peril

Part I

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Angel's House, Los Angeles, California – Sunday, September 29, 1996

Charlie sighed as Gunn kept protesting their inability to act, a hand coming up to his brow with a wince as the early signs of a migraine made themselves known. He wasn't totally tired like he'd been the last few days after the draining experience of completing the bond with Sineya, which Constance's coven—Aquelarre del Plata—was fairly sure why both he and Annie were exhausted. Supposedly after the bond was whole and they'd full adjusted to it similar experiences shouldn't be quite as draining. Though he knew Annie didn't like the "quite as" part of the statement. He didn't really either, but it was the best they were going to get. But until then they were going to suffer through occasional bouts of tiredness and headaches.

"I don't get it, man," the older man protested, shaking his head with his lips set in a firm, disapproving line. "He's just a vamp. I say we dust 'im."

"If it were that simple Gunn, we would. I really wish it was!" Charlie shook his head. "But it's not."

"Yes it is! It'll be harder, I know, 'cause he's rich with guards and stuff, but—"

"It's not just that he's rich, Moon-pie," Lorne intervened, shaking his head slightly as he continued to watch Lily, Constance and Alonna with Rose, talking quietly on the other side of the room. "He's also got some pretty dangerous contacts. Wolfram and Hart's—"

"Who cares about a bunch of lawyers, man! We—"

"—Not something to sneeze at." Lorne finished, shaking his head again as his red eyes finally returned to the people he was actually conversing with. "Unfortunately, they're a lot more than just lawyers."

"Lorne's right," Charlie murmured before Gunn could protest again, shaking his head when the older man looked at him. "I've barely begun researching Wolfram & Hart, and already I can tell that they're a lot more dangerous than a law firm should be. We have to keep in mind that they really are the people they represent."

"Which is everyone that's gonna go to one of the hells after they die," Lorne put in.

Charlie nodded again, making a face at the pluralization of "Hell," somehow the idea that there was more than one possible destination for evil souls after death bothered him, despite knowing about Hell-dimensions. And having been to one. But then again, if there really was more than one Hell and "The Balance" was real, there had to be more than one Heaven, right? He shook away the image of different Heavens for humans and dogs and cats, forcing himself back to the discussion. "They don't represent themselves that way, of course, but the media certainly doesn't like them. And the media doesn't like them mainly because of the horrendous number of murderers they've gotten off—not by proving their innocence—but by finding loop holes, technical errors in the investigations and whatnot that allow them to walk. And a horrifyingly high number of witnesses testifying against Wolfram and Hart clients tend to die before they can give there testimonies."

"Yes," all three started when Constance suddenly spoke up from right next to them, obviously having crossed the room while the other three women were still talking on the other side. "Lorne was not joking when he called Wolfram and Hart 'Hell Incorporated,' my friend. The covens have watched their activities—and their growing range of power—with horror for years, but we are not organized to deal with threats beyond the occasional demon or vampire nest. And as most of our members are pacifists, we haven't been able to do anything about it beyond magically protecting a woefully small number of innocents from them."

"I just started a few algorithms to analyze Wolfram & Hart's known actions in the last five years," Charlie continued when the witch drew to a quiet end. "And already the list of clients I've found is horrifying." He shook his head, grimacing partially at the conversation and partially at his growing headache. "They don't represent bad people who are wealthy. They go out of their way to represent bad people in general."

"What'd you mean?" Gunn asked, frowning as he slowly gained control of his emotions when confronted with the cool logic from two sources who weren't demons. Charlie understood that the older man might be willing to trust his new friends on Lorne being a good guy, but that didn't mean he was going to trust Lorne himself any time soon. He'd been fighting demons in general for too long.

"Say the police catch a serial killer, someone who—I don't know—killed half a dozen women and can't afford to pay for his own lawyer. The State has to provide a lawyer, a public defender for him. So he'll be signed up for that—until Wolfram & Hart insists on taking his case, supposedly choosing to have their lawyers represent the defendants—who can't pay hundreds of dollars every hour for representation—to keep their lawyers in shape or something like that. And they will almost always find a way to get serial killers off. A minor technicality in the investigation blown out of proportion, problems with the jury, unidentified leaks to the press, key witnesses dying from accidents that were probably secret-assassinations," Charlie shook his head, horrified by what he'd uncovered after only a few hours of analyzing the corporation.

"And they use magic, as well," Constance added with a sigh, shaking her head. "Some of the darkest sorts. It's why the covens in recent decades have had so little success in stopping the influx in dark-magic users. There simply aren't enough of us, and we aren't organized enough to get to all of them when they're being protected, trained and organized by an international corporation like Wolfram & Hart."

"So Winters isn't really the enemy here?" Gunn finally realized, the earlier frown that had been set on his face now much deeper.

Charlie shook his head in agreement, sighing as he glanced at their innocent again, just in time to see her take a sip of the herbal tea Lily had made for her. "Not really. He's the one we're protecting Denise from, of course, but—"

"If he were just a vamp we'd dust him. But since he's got Evil Inc. on his side—"

"He more than just a vamp, yeah," Charlie agreed, before nodding to Constance. "Do you—or others in the coven—know much about Wolfram and Hart? Could you get me some more info on them to work with?"

Constance nodded, "I'll see what I can dig up. But honestly, the Watchers are much more organized than the covens. They probably have plenty more on them."

The mathematician nodded again in understanding. "Yeah, I'll give Dr. Giles a call later this evening, see what he knows." Then he sighed, glancing across the room to where Alonna and Lily were still talking with Denise Williams. "In the mean time, is there some place you could hide her? Or—"

"I can ask the coven elders," Constance cut in, and then shook her head. "But honestly the wards that the covens have put up for you are much more powerful than anything else we've got in the city." At the confused looks she was getting from all around, she added, "It's the Slayer's addition to the spells, you see. By willingly adding her blood in the first set of the rituals for the wards at your homes," she nodded to Charlie then towards Lily, "and here at The House, the wards are significantly more powerful then anything we could put up for her."

"But you must have places that were protected before now," Lorne pointed out, frowning at the middle-aged witch, who shrugged.

"Of course we do. But they're mostly a matter of public record. Wolfram & Hart knows about them."

"So the moment Denise set foot in one of them, she wouldn't be able to leave?" Charlie guessed, and sighed when the witch nodded. "OK," he glanced over at the trio across the room, then back at Constance. "You're sure she'll be safe if she stays with Lily?"

"Absolutely," Constance nodded. "After we cast a cleansing spell on her, to remove any tracer spells—" she shook her head when her audience tensed, "the House's wards are currently countering them, and would have thrown them off blocks before she got here. Once we remove the tracers, we can cast an illusion on her and anti-trackers, to ensure that she'll be safe going out in public. She'll have to stay on Lily's property—or on yours, Charlie, since the wards are tied together—for at least forty-eight hours after that, to allow the wards to accept her. But after that she'll be perfectly safe from any kind of magical tracking. Though she certainly won't be able to look for work under her own name."

Charlie nodded in understanding. "Yeah, she said she'd be willing to go by an alias for a while. And we can use the curse on the O'Connor name to help her there, too." At the confused look Gunn shot him, the genius shook his head, "Long story. But she can say she's Lily's—and Annie's cousin—and go by Lyla, which she says she used before. Lyla O'Connor."

Constance nodded, "That'll work." She paused abruptly, attention seeming to turn inward for a second before she nodded again. "The elders are here. You should—"

"Take care of Denise first," Charlie cut in, his voice firm. "Her life is actually under immediate threat. We can work on meditation and whatnot afterwards."

"You need—"

"I can wait. Denise can't."

After a moment, the witch sighed and nodded. "Very well." She glanced towards the door as it opened and Lily hurried to greet her coven sisters. "I'll let them know."

Charlie nodded, "Thank you."

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High School, Sunnydale, California – Monday, September 30, 1996

Buffy rolled her eyes, holding her phone precariously to her ear with one shoulder while she rooted through her book bag. "Yes, Charlie. It's next Friday."

"On the Hellmouth that you don't want me to go near?"

"No," Buffy shook her head, "It's not at the school. It's at the Bronze. So will you be my date? Well, actually, mine and Faith's? She wants to share you."

"Uh, um—what?"

Buffy laughed lightly, smiling as the genius's disbelief echoed over the phone line and they're empathetic link. "Well she won't have a date otherwise."

"Well, yes, but—" she was sure Charlie was shaking his head as he paused, then sighed. "Are you sure?"

"What? About you going with both me and Faith to the Homecoming Dance?" the blonde asked, ignoring the looks she was getting from most of her mingling classmates as they eavesdropped on her conversation.

"Well, that too, but—Why do you want me to go to your Homecoming Dance?"

"Did you go to yours?"

"No. I was twelve and my brother didn't want me there."

"Wait, he actually said that and your—"

"No, of course he didn't say it, Annie. I just knew," he sighed. "Sibling's intuition, I guess."

"I guess," Buffy frowned at the sad turn her friend's tone was taking. "And he stole your date for the Prom, too, right?"

"No, well, yes. But Val didn't really want to go with me. I was just her cute little science lab partner. And she probably had a crush on Don, like a third of the girls in our grade. He was on the baseball team. So—"

"So she hung out with you to get close to your brother and hit pay dirt, got'ch'ya," Buffy nodded, still frowning even as she managed to find the piece of paper she'd been looking for and set it on her desk with the rest of her stuff for math class before zipping the bag up and dropping it under her desk's chair. "All the more reason for you to come to my Homecoming Dance and have a good time." She insisted as she sat down, glancing at the clock to see she still had seven minutes before class started.

"I'm going to be teaching college classes three months from now, Annie."

"So? Doesn't mean you can't hang out with us and have fun! You're still in the right age-bracket now, right? Oz is older than you."

"Oz is still in high school."

"Yeah, but—" Buffy sighed and shook her head. "Do you really not want to go?"

"What? No, I-I didn't say that. But—"

"Then I'll take the bus up to LA this Friday to help, what was her name? Denise?"

"Denise Williams, yeah."

"So I'll come help with dusting Denise's baddy, then your Mom'll drive us back on Sunday. And you'll stay till the following Sunday since the Dance is on Saturday, right?"

"Um, I guess?" After a moment Charlie sighed and continued more firmly. "I mean, yeah. Sure… do I have to wear a tuxedo?"

"Yeah, it's supposed to be pretty fancy. Xander's renting one," a small frown pulled at the corner of her mouth as she reconsidered the last comment. "Or borrowing one, he wasn't too clear on that.

"OK." She could almost feel Charlie nodding.

"Miss Summers?"

Buffy glanced up to watch Miss Glenn nod towards the clock and mouth, 'five minutes.' She nodded, sighing as she realized that she really should finish up before the bell. Especially since she needed help with some of the homework questions. "Oh, hey Charlie—"

"Gotta go?" he asked, his voice utterly understanding.

The blonde sighed again, but had to smile at his acceptance. "Yeah, sorry. My class is gonna start soon. So I'll see you Friday night?"

"My Mom and I'll pick you up at Union Station around, um, 7:30, right?"

"Yup. Bus is supposed to leave at quarter after five, so as long as there's not too much traffic seven-thirty should do it."

"OK, do you have everything set up for Homecoming already?"

Buffy blinked, "Huh?"

"A ride there and that kind of stuff?"

"Oh. Yeah, Cordelia was talkin' about renting a limo but I think we're just gonna have Oz drive—"

"I'll take care of the limo."

"What? No, Charlie you don't have t—"

"I want to," the soon-to-be college professor cut in firmly. "So I'm going to. You just worry about getting Giles' book here on Friday, OK? And, I guess, your dress for Homecoming, if you want to."

After a moment Buffy sighed again, sensing that she really wouldn't be able to change her friend's mind. "OK. Thanks, Charlie."

"I'll talk to you later?"

"Talk to you later. Bye Charlie."

"Bye Annie."

Buffy was smiling as she hung up and quickly checked to make sure her phone was set on it's lowest vibrate setting before slipping it into it's customary pocket in her backpack just as the bell for the start of class rang and Miss Glenn stood up from her desk again.

"Excellent timing, Ms. Summers," the math teacher told her with a warm smile before nodding as she glanced around the classroom. "And it looks like everyone's here—If you're absent, say so." She smirked as several of her students' chuckled at her small joke. "OK. Well, how 'bout we start with the homework? Any problem areas?"

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Eppes' House, Pasadena, California – Tuesday, October 1, 1996

Charlie carefully held back a grimace as his mom set a plate of pancakes in front of him. "Thanks, Mom." Much as he really didn't like them, he knew he was the only member of his family that didn't—his brother really liked them—so Charlie'd never had the heart to tell his family that he didn't like pancakes at all.

"You're welcome, dear," his mom nodded in reply, smiling softly as she set the steaming pancake pan on the unlit backburner of the stove to cool down while they ate before glancing at both her husband and younger son. "Can I get either of you anything?"

"No, Maggie," her husband immediately replied, shaking his head but smiling as he continued. "But you could sit down and enjoy your own breakfast."

Charlie smiled as his mom laughed.

"I could do that, couldn't I?" And so saying, she grabbed the small glass of juice she'd poured for herself and brought it to the table with her. For a few minutes the room was mostly silent, broken only by the soft sounds of forks occasionally clicking against plates as they dug into their breakfast. It was his dad that finally broke the silence.

"How's your case going, dear?"

The blonde shrugged lightly and swallowed the bite she'd taking while he asked the question before answering, "They're gonna settle some time this week."

"What's this one about?" Charlie asked curiously. While his parents talked about work in front of him every now and then, most of the time he knew very little about what was going on in their jobs. He'd been in the loop more this summer because Annie somehow always knew what they were working on, and she often hinted that showing an interest by asking questions was a good way to learn such things.

"A car accident. Insurance and whatnot." His mom shrugged, "Nothing big, really. Just a fender-bender, for my client, at least."

"Oh, that's good," Charlie nodded, then glancing at his dad. "Are you still working on—"

"The downtown project?" His dad nodded, "Yeah. We just started construction, actually." He took a bite of his pancakes and looked at his younger son as he chewed on them, raising an eyebrow as he swallowed. "So your mom tells me you're going to Annie's Homecoming Dance?"

Charlie blinked, shooting his smiling mother a surprised look before nodding slowly. "Uh, yeah. She's gonna visit the weekend before that to check-up on The House, and Lily and stuff, then," he shrugged, "I guess I'm gonna head back with her. Do you guys want me to take the bus ba—"

"Of course not," his mom cut in, shaking her head. "We'll drop you off an—"

"We can't pick him up the following Sunday, sweetie," his Dad pointed out. "Remember? We'll be in Washington for your Aunt's party."

"Oh, right," his mom frowned.

Charlie shook his head, "I can take the bus, Mom. And it's not that far from The House, so I can just catch a ride home with Lily. Or take a taxi."

"I suppose," his mom nodded, still obviously not happy with the idea as she sighed. "You'll have to come back early in the afternoon though. I don't want you walking around downtown at night. No, actually, you should just take a taxi h—"

"To The House," Charlie agreed, nodding though he knew full well that wasn't what she was going to say. "I'll let Lily know." Though he did find it interesting that the 'at night' part was what his mom really seemed to be worried about. She was rationalizing it to the location, but still…

"But—" his mom stopped, frowning as a knock at the front door echoed through the house. "Who—" she glanced at the nearby clock on the stove and shook her head as it read ten past seven. "Who would be here this early?" she started to rise but Charlie shot up and headed towards the front door.

"I'll get it, Mom." He was out of the kitchen before she could object, hoping it wasn't anyone from The House or The Watch.

He knew that The Watch especially could be dangerous, but they hadn't had anything more serious than a lot of scratches and bruises, plus some broken bones and concussions, no casualties yet. Unfortunately yet was probably the key word there.

When Charlie opened the front door he was relieved, as the older, well-dressed man that was standing there was a complete stranger to him. "Can I help you?" he asked, taking in the man's attire with a quick second glance and a frown.

At the first glance he'd seen the suit and briefcase and immediately thought 'door to door salesman' that was up and making house calls way to early. But on the second one he realized the man's suit was much too expensive for that.

"I need to speak with Dr. Charles Eppes, please," the man told him, cool gray eyes taking him in and dismissing him almost immediately.

Charlie raised an eyebrow and suppressed a smirk, being dismissed based on his age/appearance used to bother him, but now more often than not it amused him. Still he didn't move to invite the stranger inside in anyway as he replied. "I'm Dr. Eppes. What can I do for you?"

The older man blinked, but to his credit hid any surprise he felt very well after that first sign and nodded. "Dr. Eppes, Michael Cosvell," he introduced himself, holding out a card in one hand, "I'm with Wolfram and Hart, Attorneys at Law. We must insist—"

"Can I help you?"

Charlie blinked in surprise as his mom suddenly appeared beside him, completely unaccustomed to the cool, professional voice she was using as she raised an eyebrow at the younger lawyer.

"Mrs. Eppes, I presume?" the blonde man nodded, changing his direction to hold the card that Charlie deliberately hadn't accepted out to her instead. "I'm—"

"Cosvell, I heard," she nodded coolly, accepting the card but barely sparing it a glance before her eyes went back to him, cool and calculating. "I'm Margaret Eppes, and I represent my son in legal matters. Can I help you?"

The younger lawyer blinked, obviously not having done that much research on Charlie—as he hadn't known Charlie's age, or that his mother was a practicing lawyer and probably also didn't know that his brother was an FBI Agent—but nodded nonetheless. "Yes, Mr. Holland Manners, Vice-President of Wolfram and Hart Special Projects Division, would like to speak with Dr. Eppes at his earliest possible convenience."

"About?"

Cosvell blinked again, brows furrowing slightly as he replied shortly, "A closed matter."

Charlie really wouldn't have thought it possible, but his mother's tone of voice actually got colder. "Oh, well if it's closed then there's really nothing to discuss, is there?" she pointed out, deliberately seizing onto another definition of the term rather than the one the other lawyer was using. "And Dr. Eppes is a very busy person. He starts teaching soon and is under a number of consultation contracts with computer companies, banks and government organizations, so—"

"Mr. Manners understands, ma'am, sir," Cosvell nodded to both of them in turn as he interrupted, his voice firm. "But—"

Not firm enough to keep Charlie's mom from interrupting him again though.

"So he won't be available for quite some time. But if you'd care to set up an appointment with my office, we could possibly arrange a meeting." She glanced at Charlie and jerked her head towards the kitchen, "Charlie, your father needs your help in there."

"But—"

"I'll take care of this," she told him, and after nineteen years as her son Charlie knew not to disobey that tone of voice and meekly nodded, stepping back into the house and moving away even as the Wolfram and Hart lawyer objected.

"Now wait just—"

"As I said, Mr. Cosvell, if you'd like to arrange a meeting with Dr. Eppes you can call my office and set up an appointment." She paused for a moment and Charlie thought it sounded like she was searching her suit pockets for something, but he thought it might just be for show since his empathetic sense was telling him she wasn't really looking for anything, though she was getting angrier by the second. Which was why he hurried his steps into the kitchen as she finished. "I don't seem to have any of my cards on me, but if you call the switchboard at the Los Angeles Supreme Court, the operator can redirect your call. Is that all?"

That undoubtedly wasn't all, as his mother's altercation with the other lawyer continued for several minutes after the kitchen door swung shut behind him, but it was all Charlie could hear. Though both he and his father's eyes kept moving towards the door at the sound of muffled voices through it. His mother never invited the other lawyer in though, and she stormed back into the kitchen after they heard the sound of the front door not quite slamming shut several minutes later.

"I, uh, need to get to work, dear," his Dad mumbled, glancing at the nearby clock before adding cautiously, "Do you want me to stay?"

Charlie's mom sighed and shook her head. "No. Have a good day at work, Alan. Don't work too hard." She gave him a quick peck on the lips as he rose and rapidly retreated from the room before her attention returned to her youngest son, who flinched under her glare and quickly turned his attention back to his half-eaten plate of lukewarm pancakes. "Charlie?"

The young genius wetted his lips nervously, still not looking up as he pushed clumps of pancake around his plate with his fork, trailing syrup and melted butter wherever it went. "Yeah, Mom?"

"Why does someone from Wolfram and Hart, of all law firms, want to speak with you?" Before he could reply she added in a tone that was not quite snapping but close, "And don't play with your food."

Charlie quickly released his fork, wincing as it dropped down onto his plate with a clatter that sent bits of pancake and syrup splattering around the plate. To her question, he shrugged, still not looking at her as he replied, "I, uh, I'm not sure."

"But you can guess?"

The genius shrugged again, "Maybe it's something to do with The House?"

After a moment his mother sighed again, her anger seeming to drain away—or at least be pulled in—leaving a surge of worry and weariness in its wake. "I certainly hope not. Though that's better than their just showing an interest in you personally." She took Charlie's plate and her own, carrying it over to the sink to rinse them off and turning the garbage disposal on for a moment while she put the plates and utensils in the dishwasher. She turned the loud appliance off, then turned the water off too, closed the dishwasher and walked back over to the table, dropping into the chair next to him with a sigh. "Is that all?"

Charlie shrugged again, not at all comfortable with lying to his mother but not really able to tell her the truth so long as she didn't believe in the supernatural. And like Annie he really didn't want to drag his family into that world. Even though it was the real, natural world, not knowing about it at least allowed the illusion of security that he was reluctant to steal from his parents. He imagined he wouldn't really want to tell his brother if he got the chance either, if only because Don had more then enough of the bad elements of the human world to deal with and if the FBI wasn't going to make him handle vampires and demons too, Charlie certainly wasn't. "What else could it be?"

"Well, I suppose they might want you to consult for them on," she shrugged, "I don't know, something." Then she shot him a sharp look that he'd only seen a few times growing up. "Which you will not do, understand?"

"Yeah, I understand," Charlie agreed immediately, before giving his mom a curious look. "You really don't like them, do you?" Asking partially out of pure curiosity and feeling a little bad for trying to get clues he could add to his analysis of the evil company from his own mother.

For a moment his mother's eyed closed in thought as she shook her head, then she sighed and her eyes opened again to meet his. "They have a very bad reputation, Charlie. The D.A. hasn't been able to pin on anything on them, but I know they've tried countless times."

"Why?" Charlie prodded quietly, already knowing the answer for the most part but figuring that since his mother was a lawyer she'd be a good source of information that he shouldn't ignore.

"They just—" She shook her head again, "In law school, you learn about creating a 'moral vacuum' and whatnot, because you have to defend your client—all of your clients—to the best of your ability. Even the guilty ones. But Wolfram and Hart—" she sighed. "They don't create moral vacuums, they are a moral vacuum. They're dangerous and well known for their complete lack of scruples."

"Then why are they still around?" Charlie asked, though again he probably had a better idea than his mother did. Demonic ties and mystical forces had to come with some advantages for those that used them, after all. And according to Constance Wolfram and Hart used plenty of 'em.

"No one knows. I know the current D.A. and the last one have both spent years trying to nail something to them. With the police, the FBI and probably every other alphabet agency they could call on. But no one could get far enough."

"If they couldn't find anything then how do you know—"

His mother cut him off, "When the prosecution's key witness is killed before they can testify—destroying the prosecution's case against a drug-lord or serial killer—most people assume the defendant ordered the hit." She shook her head again. "But when it happens more often then not for the clientele of one specific law firm? Defendants getting off when key witnesses are killed. And more and more of those witnesses are immediately put in protective custody when they're testifying against Wolfram and Hart clients, but they're still killed. People start to wonder." The lawyer shook her head. "And they don't just defend wealthy criminals, they defend just about anybody that you wouldn't want anywhere near a school. Arsonists. Stalkers. Murderers. Rapists. It seems like the worse the crime, the more likely Wolfram and Hart is to defend them. And if they can't get them off on a miniscule technicality, which they do a disgusting amount of the time, then they destroy the case. Either there's a leak to the press or a key witness—or several important witnesses—die."

"And the D.A. can't—" Charlie motioned with his hands, not sure of the words he wanted to use, then he finally shrugged. "Do anything?"

"Innocent till proven guilty, Charlie. They can't do anything without proof. And they can't find any." Her blonde curls swayed back and forth in sad waves as she shook her head again. "It's one of the most integral parts of our democratic society, supremely important in protecting our rights but it protects the real bad guys too." She smirked slightly, "That's probably one of the reasons Wolfram and Hart doesn't have a branch in Paris." At the surprised look her son shot her, she added, "Modern French law is very similar to ours, but it still has some exclusions that might be problematic for Wolfram and Hart if they were too conspicuous in the French capital. Especially since some traces of the French mindset during Napoleonic period are still noticeable today. I think they have a branch in Marseille, though."

Charlie nodded, well-aware of how his mother felt about such things. After a moment he glanced at the clock, "Do you have—"

"To go. Yeah," she nodded as she rose, forcing a small smile onto her face as she stepped over to him and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his brow. "I'll see you this afternoon, sweetie?"

"I'm gonna head into The House for a while, but I'll be home for dinner," Charlie agreed. "Do you want me to pick anything up?"

"No. I think we'll have pizza tonight. I'll call your father to have him pick some up from that little place he likes on the way home. It's actually on his route home," she pointed out with a small smirk again, "And he's driving himself."

"OK." Charlie narrowed his eyes in mock-anger, "And it is not my fault I can't drive myself. I wanted to get my license a year ago, remember? You, Dad and Don talked me out of it."

His mother shook her head, "The way you can zone out when some idea or another occurs to you, Charlie, makes the idea of you behind the wheel of a car rather frightening." Then she sighed, though she was smiling softly, "But if you really want to start taking lessons, I suppose you can." She jerked her head towards the side of the house. "We still have your brother's old Volkswagen, after all."

"Mom, that thing's like, what, more than ten years old now?"

"And your brother hasn't needed it in years. Not since he got himself that Chevy." She was still smirking, "And your father and I need our cars."

Charlie rolled his eyes, but nodded, "OK. Hope your day gets better, Mom."

His mother laughed as she grabbed her purse off the counter and quickly rummaged through it to make sure everything she needed was in there. She did that every morning. "So do I. After a run-in with Wolfram and Hart though, I suppose that 'get better' is all it can do. Love you, sweetie."

"Love you, too, Mom," Charlie shot her a small smile as he watched her leave. He heard her pick up her briefcase, which she almost always left near the door, and a few seconds later heard the front door open and shut again. Then he rose and quickly grabbed his cell phone off of the counter, where it'd been charging, and unplugged it before opening it to dial a familiar number.

After three rings a similarly familiar voice picked up, "Hello?"

"Constance, hi, it's Charlie. Sorry but I think I need another favor…"

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High School Library, Sunnydale, California – Tuesday, October 1, 1996

Buffy nodded even as she lightly stepped over the sweeping kick Faith sent at her legs, "Yeah. Shouldn't be too hard," she glanced over at their Watcher while catching her sister-Slayer's punch and using it to throw her slightly off balance, then returned her attention to her sparring partner even as she hinted to the Watcher. "Though it'd probably be easier if the Council had some kind of help for us. I mean, this vamp's supposed to be, like, super-rich so he's gonna have some tight security, right?"

"Yes," Giles confirmed, sighing slightly. "And as I said just a few moments ago, Buffy. I have already called the Council to request support for the endeavor." He actually shrugged—an inelegant motion Buffy wasn't used to seeing her Watcher use—as he turned the page of the old tome he was reading, not even remotely watching his two Slayers spar. "I doubt they will have any qualms about sending a team of operatives again. The Council has been watching Russell Winters for several decades now, since he was first sired in the nineteen-sixties."

"Why haven't they taken 'im out then?" Faith asked, before vaulting over Buffy's head to try and land a kick at her back, which was gracefully blocked and used to throw her off balance before she flipped free of the older Slayer's grip.

The Watcher sighed again, "He really hasn't been active enough to make the effort, apparently. He's not on a Hellmouth gathering followers. He doesn't even associate with many other demons or vampires since his Sire was staked by an amateur hunter in the seventies. And he actually doesn't kill that many—"

"According to Charlie he's been torturing girls for years!" Buffy protested with a frown towards her Watcher, looking away from Faith at just the wrong moment and getting her feet kicked out from under her in the process. "Oof!" Still, she easily caught herself and kicked Faith away on her way down before flipping back onto her feet.

"Yes. But he doesn't even kill as often as most fledgling vampires, Buffy. He generally buys blood from many of the numerous demonic-markets that sell it, only killing a few girls a year. Compared to vampires like An—well, um, Spike or Drusilla, who generally kill an average of a dozen people per week themselves, and are partially responsible for many more in the cities as they gather followers to them, Winter's is rather insignificant." He sighed when both Slayer's turned to glare at him. "Not to say that his victim are unimportant, of course, but in the grand scheme—" he spread his hands in a helpless gesture before dropping them back to the book he was flipping through.

"So what?" Faith shook her head, nodding in thanks as she caught the water bottle Buffy tossed at her while tossing the blonde's towel towards her. "Since he acts more like a human serial killer than a demonic one, the Council won't bother goin' after him?" She shook her head even as she tipped it back to take several long gulps from her water bottle, before continuing as she finished, setting the bottle down and wrapping her towel around her sweating shoulders. "That sucks, yo."

"Indeed it does," Giles agreed immediately, before either Slayer could really start ranting at him. "But even with the vast number of resources and influences the Council has around the globe, we are still limited." He paused as the phone rang, and rose from his seat, nodding to them, "Excuse me," before crossing the library and going into his office to answer it.

"So, I heard the Scoobs' were talking about renting a set a wheels together?" Faith asked, raising an eyebrow as she dropped down into a nearby seat and took another gulp of her water.

Buffy shrugged while taking a sip of her water, "That's what they were saying," then she shook her head. "But Charlie already arranged for a limo for us. I tried to talk them into sharing, but Xander—for some reason—wouldn't hear it."

"Oh?" Faith finished off her water bottle and gestured for Buffy to toss her a second one, continuing as she caught it while the blonde took a seat across from her. "Think X-man's jealous again?"

Buffy frowned, shaking her head. "I don't think so. I mean, he's dating Cordelia now so," she shrugged, "Maybe it's just a not-trusting-the-new-guy thing?"

"Maybe," the younger Slayer agreed with another shrug. "But hey, it means we've got a nice set a wheels all to ourselves, right?"

Buffy laughed, "I guess so."

Then both Slayers looked towards the door as their Watcher returned with a small smile on his face.

"Good news, Watcher-mine?" the older Slayer asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Indeed," Giles nodded immediately, gesturing towards his office as he continued. "The Council has decided to send a team of operatives to help—"

"What?" Buffy shook her head deeply, frowning. "No. I don't need that kind of help, Giles. 'Specially considering how much 'help' the last 'team' was. I just want the," she gestured vaguely in front of her as she tried to think of the right words. "You know, plans. Of his house—"

"Like the blueprints?" Faith suggested, smirking slightly as Buffy nodded.

"Yeah, and maybe his schedule and security and stuff? Charlie said Winters was rolling in it, so he's gotta have security, right?"

"Well, yes, of course he does." Giles confirmed with a nod, though he was frowning at the elder Slayer. "Which is exactly the sort of thing the field operatives would be ideal for helping with, Buffy."

"Like they were such big 'help' last time?" Buffy shook her head, "I mean, sure they kept most of the minions off our backs so Faith and I could get rid of Kakistos, but I know at least a few of the minions got away."

Giles sighed, shaking his head as he took a seat near them, carefully sliding a bookmark into the book he was reading to mark the page as he closed it. "Well, yes, but that was more their leader's fault then there own, was it not? I believe you yourself said that though he played little part in the fight itself, he expected the field operatives to follow him?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"That's because he was a Council Member, Buffy. Though not a very high ranking one. And though he doesn't even have enough training to act as a Field Watcher, such as myself, the fact that he holds a seat on the Council meant that the operatives would certainly defer to him."

"Not really though," Faith shrugged when both looked at her. "I mean, they listened to everything he said, but they listened to you, too, B. Which is probably why they were as successful as they were."

Buffy nodded in agreement as she remembered the focused gazes of the Watchers that hadn't said anything, besides greeting all three of them—'Miss Summers,' 'Miss Lehane' and 'Dr. Giles'—very politely. "Yeah, I guess."

"Though I gotta say, G-man," the brunette shook her head while the Watcher frowned at her. "That Council of yours is lookin' less and less useful by the day, if the bossy, spineless idiot's anything to by."

"Well, I—uh—I think you're both being a bit harsh on—"

"Well we don't have much to judge them on, do we?" Buffy snapped, then winced as her Watcher's expression went completely blank while her empathetic senses detected a clear note of hurt at her words. She shook her head. "Sorry, not—I just meant, you're the only Watcher that we see all the time. And you're great. I knew Merrick before you and Faith knew Dormer, and they were great too. But if this Council is as powerful and far-reaching as everyone says," she spread her arms and shook her head, "Where are they?"

The Watcher stared at her for several long moments, before finally shaking his head. "I understand your qualms, Buffy. Truly, I do," he sighed heavily. "But this is tradition. It's how the Council has operated for centuries. Researching threats and helping prepare the Slayer to face them. If you feel having several more watchers here for support would truly be beneficial, I will gladly ask the Council to consider it. " He waved his hand at the fairly small library around them, "But we'd probably have to find a bigger space to meet in. Though considering the Hellmouth's location," he nodded as both Slayers glanced at the floor. "The Council would undoubtedly wish to keep me here."

"No," Buffy sighed, "We don't really need more people doing your job, Giles. You handle your job. It's just," she shook her head and opened her mouth to continue, but stopped as Faith went on for her.

"Kinda annoying that they just ignored the bastard and let him kill all those girls," the brunette shrugged, shaking her head after swallowing another few gulps of water. "Makes ya think the Council didn't think they were worth worryin' about."

Buffy nodded in agreement even as she watched her Watcher shake his head in protest.

"Now really, ladies, we can't be everywhere at once. Not too long ago, you might care to remember that there was only one Slayer at a time, which meant they couldn't be in two places at once an—"

"But the Council could've trained people to handle the weaker vamps. Hell, they do train people for that. That's what their 'operatives' are for, right?" She frowned at him, and was only just able to keep her frown from deepening as she sensed a sudden spike of conflicting emotions from the man.

Anger. But not—from the way he was acting—anger at her and Faith.

Fear. Again, not quite at the Slayers. Then what was her Watcher afraid of?

Worry. That she could see in his eyes as he met her gaze again.

"The Council Operative h-have many responsibilities, my dear," he sighed and shook his head again as he continued. "Among them are hunting vampires and demons. But again, there are very few human beings up to the necessities of the job."

"Yeah, that's the whole bit 'bout bein' chosen, huh?" Faith raised an eyebrow at the elder Slayer and smirked, "Not much special about it if everyone can do it, right?"

"No," Buffy agreed softly, shaking her head even as her eyes remained locked on her weary Watcher.

"That is very true, Faith," Giles allowed, then shook his head. "Nonetheless, I can assure you—both of you—that the team currently in route is quite up to the task."

"'Leader's not a Council member?" Buffy asked.

Giles shook his head again, "No. The lead-operative is Alastair Collins, and though he has been in the Council's employ for, uh, this type of work for many years, he has never shown an interest in sitting on the Council proper."

"Well," Faith shrugged as she tossed her empty water bottle across the room—easily sinking it into the far trashcan—and glanced at the blonde Slayer again. "That's one point in his favor, right, B?"

"Could be," Buffy agreed with a sigh.

"Collins and the gentlemen that will be with him have all been training together and fighting the forces of darkness for most of their lives."

Both Slayer's winced as the school's end-of-class bell resounded through the library, offending their super-sensitive sense of hearing, which was still running on high from the adrenaline they'd built up while sparring together.

Buffy sighed as she hurriedly moved into the librarian's office to change back into her school-clothes. A few moments—plus a few moist toilettes, some deodorant and perfume—later, she stepped out again and shrugged at the concerned look her Watcher shot her while she packed up her training equipment. "I guess I can work with them."

"Tha—"

"But the sooner we can send Charlie the blueprints, the better."

"I'll ask after them right away," Giles assured her, and shook his head as she undid the tight-twist she'd had her hair in for sparring, rapidly ripping through it with her hairbrush before pulling the slightly neater mass back into a ponytail.

"Thanks," the high school senior said out of the corner of her mouth, even as she efficiently placed her hairbrush back in its pocket of her bag before pulling out her make-up kit and just as quickly using it to make sure none of her mascara or eye-shadow had run, before taking out some lip-gloss and applying it.

"So, B, all ready for that dance next week?"

"Yeah," Buffy nodded, smiling softly while she slipped her make-up kit back into her back-pack. "I'll head up to LA to deal with Winters on Friday. Charlie will come back with me, hang out a bit, and the dance is on Friday."

"Cool," the brunette nodded, taking a swig of her second water bottle. "Lookin' forward to meetin' him."

Buffy laughed as she headed for the door, "Oh, he is too. See ya later, Faith. Bye Giles!" Then she was hurrying out the door towards her history class with about two minutes to spare.

Cutting through the rapidly emptying school courtyard, she stopped abruptly as a familiar and unwelcome sensation made itself known.

Someone was watching her.

Someone that her senses agreed was at least somewhat dangerous.

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment and reached out with her Slay-dar. But a moment later she opened her eyes again, her frown deepening as she came back empty.

Someone who was not demonic or mystical was watching her?

Looking around, she called up her empathetic senses instead, rapidly dismissing the trivial worries of her nearby peers, the familiar concerns of the nearby school staff and the principal's far too familiar thorn-like presence of general discontent and malice.

Her eyes turned toward the parking lot as she sensed a strange level of almost-apathy that abruptly shifted to worry as her gaze landed on a nearby van. She took a step towards the parking lot, not sure if she should attack—not demons or vampires, after all, and 'watching' wasn't really a crime…was it?—but the van's occupants saved her the trouble of deciding by turning on and driving away, quickly accelerating as they left the parking lot.

"Hey Summers, ya comin'?"

Buffy jumped and glanced towards the end of the courtyard, where she'd been headed a moment before, to see two of her classmates waiting for her with expectant looks on their faces.

"Come on, we're gonna be late."

The Slayer glanced towards the parking lot again, but knowing she really needed better grades this year pushed the thought of strangely non-Slayer related stalkers aside to hurry off with her peers to her history class. With each semi-hurried step—quick for her classmates but zilch to her—she tried to push the strangeness of the situation to the back of her mind.

After all, if they weren't demons, weren't vampires or supernatural in any way, how bad could they really be?

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Eppes' House, Pasadena, California – Wednesday, October 2, 1996

Charlie sighed, shaking his head. "And you're sure every thing's OK?" After all of the meditative exercises he'd been practicing under the supervision of different members of the LA covens and plenty of time just focusing on reading the bond itself, he was now completely sure he could feel distinct signals of irritation and amusement from his friend.

"Yes, Charlie. I told you, last night's patrol was easy. The only thing off about yesterday was that van and—"

"Even if you're right—" as he sensed a sudden increase in the irritation he quickly continued on a slightly different note, "—which, I'm sure, you are. Though you did say they were far away. But even if whoever was watching you yesterday isn't demonic or vampiric that doesn't mean they're not dangerous, Annie." Charlie sighed and shook his head. "The world is full of dangerous humans. My brother hunts some of them every day. Give any of 'em a weapon and they become a very real threat. Even to you and Faith, a human enemy with a gun could hurt—or even kill—you."

Annie sighed, and Charlie had the distinct impression that she was focusing on something other than their conversation as she spoke, "Guns aren't allowed in supernatural fights, Charlie."

The mathematician sighed, as always finding the lack of logic associated with the supernatural superbly irksome. "And how often do the bad guys listen to the rules? You said that vampire, Darla tried to shoot you a few years ago." He continued quickly before she could reply, "Besides, this could be something else."

"Like what?"

"You said whoever it was definitely wasn't supernatural, right? So that means they can't be vampires, demons, or mages?"

"Yeah. I think."

"I need a little more then 'I think,' here, Annie," the scientist objected half-heartedly, only frowning when he sensed a strange sensation across his empathetic senses—coming from their bond, he thought—that made him think of the color red.

"I've only fought one witch before and she barely showed up on my Slay-dar when she wasn't using magic!" The Slayer sighed, "I mean, I've gotten stronger but they could be magic-users, right?"

"Alright, maybe. But for the sake of this argument we'll say they're not." Charlie insisted, his frown deepening as he empathetic senses were assaulted by a puzzling sensation again, except this one made him think of the color blue.

"Why?"

"Just listen for a moment, please?"

Red again.

"OK."

Now blue. "OK, so what about people that might want t-to test your abilities as—"

Blue and red were suddenly replaced by a mixture of anger and fear. "You think they want to turn me into a lab-rat?"

"No! No, no. Well, maybe. It is possible," he felt he had to point out, despite really not liking the idea himself. Sure it might be interesting to figure out just what Annie was capable of, exactly how much her powers were growing and such, but the cost was much too high. After a moment of strained silence he asked, "Did they feel dangerous to you?"

"I…" the Slayer was quiet for several moments longer before she sighed, "I don't know. They were just watching me. Which was creepy, yah, but—"

"But it didn't feel like they were aiming weapons at you?"

This time Annie's answer was immediate and definitive, "No."

Charlie sighed and nodded to himself, pushing wild ideas of stalkers and spies to the back of his mind and tried to change the subject to a calmer topic. "What are you doing?"

"Huh? I'm talking to you," Annie replied just as quickly, clear confusion ringing over the phone-lines and their bond.

Charlie smiled softly, trying to focus on his home—the upstairs, at least, still felt safe all the time—hoping the comfort and safety he felt would calm his friend. "But you're concentrating on something else. Blue? Red? What is that?"

"Bl—Oh!"

Again he felt her realize what he was talking about even as he heard it in her voice.

"OK, that's kinda creepy."

"What is?"

"Well, I mean, I don't think I feel all that strongly about any of this, do I?"

"About any of what, Annie?"

"Oh, I'm trying to pick out a dress for Homecoming next week. Hey, actually, what are you wearing?"

Charlie blinked, "Uh, wearing?"

"Yeah, I think Xander and Oz are both renting tuxes. Actually, Xander's cousin sent gave him or lent him a tux, I'm still not sure which."

"Oh, I can wear a tuxedo, I, uh, guess." Charlie frowned, wondering if the tuxedo he'd worn to his mother's second-cousin's wedding a few years ago would still fit him. And, for that matter, where it was.

"What coloring?"

"Huh?"

Annie laughed, and he was fairly sure she was rolling her eyes. Apparently he'd succeeded in distracting her at his own expense. "Your tux, Charlie, what's it look like? Black and white?"

"Um, yeah." He thought so, at least. He actually didn't remember most of the wedding. The only time he'd paid any attention at all was during dinner when he couldn't get away with thinking about the Eppes Convergence and his brother was actually interested in talking to him. Mostly to commiserate on being dragged to the wedding of a relative both of them had only met at one or two funerals before then, but it'd been nice nonetheless.

"Bow-tie?"

"Uh," he thought back on it and was surprised when a conversation with his brother about their ties popped into his head. "No, actually. Just a regular tie." Remembering the direction of her earlier question, he quickly added, "It's blue."

"Sapphire blue? Sky blue? Cerulean? Azure? Air Force blue?"

"Um, a light, blue-gray blue?"

Annie sighed, "OK. I can work with that, I guess. You had it fitted and dry-cleaned, right?"

"Um, yeah," Charlie nodded quickly, pushing down a rising sense of worry from the questions.

"Are you lying?" the Slayer asked, and continued before he could reply. "Never mind. Just make sure you get to a tailor tomorrow. Hopefully they'll be able to fix it up for you on the spot—though that'll cost more—and then you can drop it off at the dry cleaners for pick-up on Friday. Which, again, 'll cost more, but it's your own fault."

Charlie winced, but chose to accept her words with a small nod. "Yeah, sorry." Searching for another tangent to explore he asked, "Did Giles get the blueprints yet?"

"Uh, yeah. Willow was gonna send 'em to you tonight. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks."

"The covens couldn't get anything?"

"No. Well, they have a mystical outline of the wards and some of the spells on the grounds. Constance said something about evil gargoyles, but they couldn't find any actual blueprints. As I understand it, Techno-Pagans, like the late Miss Calendar are still a fairly small talent pool."

"Yeah, she was pretty special."

Charlie nodded, sighing softly at the remorse and sadness he could now feel echoing over their bond. "It wasn't your fault."

"It kinda was," Annie sighed. "I let Angelus loose. Then I couldn't stake him. Both of which mean that the people he killed here in Sunnydale are partially my fault. Maybe I didn't kill them, but I let him kill them."

"No. You didn't." Charlie shook his head firmly. "You didn't know about the stupid clause in the curse and Angelus's actions are his own. It's not like you just stepped aside and watched him kill."

"Maybe I should have," the Slayer sighed again. "Maybe then I would've been able to stake him."

"You loved him, Annie." Charlie shook his head slightly, forcibly ignoring the slight stirrings of jealousy in his gut at the thought. "A part of you still does love him, right?"

"I—Yeah. I-I guess," Annie agreed, sighing softly again before she continued, her voice suddenly firming as she switched the topic again. "OK. So you and your Mom are gonna pick me up at the bus station Friday night, right?"

The genius blinked, but quickly went with her, knowing she didn't want to talk anymore about the emotionally charged topic, and knowing that for now, at least, that was alright. "Yeah, we'll pick you up at Union Station's bus terminal."

"I can find my way out to the main entrance, if that'd be easier. That way your Mom wouldn't have to park or pay for it."

"No, we'll meet you in the terminal."

"Charlie—"

"Annie, I know my Mom. Even if you managed to convince me, she'd ignored me when I told her. We'll meet you in the terminal."

After a moment the Slayer sighed again. "OK. I'll see you guys there."

"I'm looking forward to it," Charlie smiled, shaking his head slightly. "All of us are. Mom and Dad. Lily and everyone at the House. We've missed you. And Gunn can't wait to meet you."

Annie laughed, "Yeah, I'm glad to have an excuse to visit, too." Then she continued a little more seriously, "You'll call me if there are any problems." It wasn't a question.

"Of course. See you in a few days, Annie."

"Bye for now, Charlie."

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High School Library, Sunnydale, California – Thursday, October 3, 1996

Buffy shook her head as her mother and Faith both laughed, "I mean, I know most guys don't put as much thought into dressing that we girls do, but for a formal dance?"

"Your boy has two counts against him though, B," Faith said with a grin, shrugging as both Summers look at her. "He's a guy and a geek."

"That is true," Buffy's mom agreed with a matching grin. "Though I'd think, having completed college and received his doctorate he'd be more used to the idea of formal-dress on appropriate occasions."

"Most of the college guys I've met aren't really into suits and ties, Mrs. S'," Faith told them, still grinning as she finished off the last of her cereal. Buffy wasn't sure if it'd been Raisin Bran or Total, but it was gone now.

"Not for class and day-to-day life, no," Joyce shook her head. "But most college graduates would know not to wear jeans and t-shirt to, say, a job interview." Then she shrugged, "Of course, it may just be that as you said, he didn't go to his high school dances because of the age difference and never made the mental connection to formality."

Buffy shrugged, "I think it's more like he just didn't think of it." She nodded in thanks when Faith grabbed her plate, which had been formerly laden with toast, the remains of it were in her hand and quickly disappearing.

"Shouldn't you girls eat more?" Joyce shook her head again as both Slayers looked at her. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and Mr. Giles said being—you know—made your metabolisms' increase significantly."

"Mom," Buffy was grinning even more widely as she shook her head, and held the small bit of her last piece of toast up. "This is my fifth piece of toast and that's my second glass of juice. And I'm pretty sure that Faith had at least two bowls of cereal."

"Three," Faith confirmed with a nod as she finished putting their dishes in the dishwasher and closed the door. "'Sides, it's not breakfast-time we usually need to eat loads at."

"It's not?"

"No," Buffy agreed. "We usually eat a big dinner and then pig-out when we get back from patrol. That's when our bodies' need to make-up for all the energy we used." She shook her head and chuckled slightly. "Charlie actually tried to track my eating-habits this summer, and how much I need to eat."

"Oh?" her Mom asked curiously.

Faith added, "What happened?"

The older Slayer shrugged, "Well, first he had to get me to be honest about when I was hungry and all that. But he said that my body seems to store-up a lot of the excess energy," she shrugged when both frowned at her, "Obviously not as fat, so he figured it was some kind of mystical storage thing that only Slayers have. But that was also why we feel lousy when we don't patrol for too long."

"Our Slayer-storage-thing gets too fat?" Faith asked with a grin and Buffy shrugged again.

"I guess." She sighed as she glanced at the clock. "I've gotta get to school."

"Hey, you didn't say anything about my idea," Faith protested mildly.

Buffy laughed, shaking her head. "It's OK with me. Probably be a good idea, actually. 'Cept you have to figure out where all our junk is going and Mom has to say 'yes,'" she nodded to her mother with a grin as the older woman shook her head.

"I don't know, Faith," Joyce sighed. "It'd probably be awful expensive."

"So we get the Council to pay for it." When both Summers women looked at her again, Faith shrugged. "What? You were the one that told G-man that we should get paid for patrolling regularly. Doesn't that mean they should pay for our training, too?"

Buffy blinked, then nodded slowly while she finished checking her backpack and zipped all the pockets up after slipping her no-longer-secret-phone into its customary home. "Yeah, I guess. I'll ask Giles about it," she glanced at her mom, "If that's alright?"

Her mom shook her head, "You two will still have to fit everything we have downstairs up into the attic, though. Which will probably mean a few new bookcases up there. And we'll need to check to make sure the floor can support that much weight."

Both teenagers frowned at her.

"Why wouldn't it?" Buffy asked.

"This is a fairly old house, Buffy. I'm not sure the attic was—"

"It's there, so doesn't it mean it was designed for storing stuff?" Faith frowned.

"Well, probably yes, but I'd rather not have to fix the floor after something happens."

"Um, OK." Buffy thought a moment. "Actually, Charlie's Dad's an architect, and they're gonna be dropping us off on Sunday. We could ask him to take a look." She frowned as her eye caught sight of the nearby clock again, "I gotta go. See you later, Faith. Have a nice day, Mom!"

Her mother's "You too, honey" and Faith's "Yeah, B," followed her out the door just before it clicked shut behind her.

Buffy was grinning as she took off at what was—to her, at least—a slight jog. Faith had been after them to remodel the basement into a training area for weeks now. Buffy kind of saw the appeal of the end result, but she was really having too much fun watching Faith try to talk her mom into it to help out all that much. But it looked like the brunette had finally won. Unless the elder Summer's had second-thoughts again.

With a sigh, she wondered how Charlie was doing with packing. Granted, he didn't really have to pack before they left LA on Sunday, but it'd be easier if he'd had it done ahead of time. As long as he got the tux into a tailor like he promised and then to the drycleaners, though, they should be fine. Granted, like Faith had said, they could still drag him to the dance in jeans and t-shirt and probably have a great time, but she didn't think it'd be the same sort of experience. Plus, it would make Charlie stand out a lot more then he'd probably be comfortable with.

She started when the sound of a nearby car horn broke her out of her reverie and halted abruptly to look at the nearby street. Two the girls in her math class, which was meeting first period again, were watching her.

"Hey, Summers," the driver called, "Need a ride?"

Buffy blinked, but then nodded, smiling slightly. "Sure, that'd be great. Thanks, Donna. Hi Chloe…"

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Angel's House, Los Angeles, California – Thursday, October 3, 1996

Charlie rolled his eyes as his older friends snickered at his expense. "It's not that funny."

Lily shrugged while Constance kept laughing.

"To girls, it is, Charlie." Lily shook her head. "Still, it was really sweet of your mom to save you like that. Like Annie said, you probably coulda gotten it ready in time, even this late. But you'd have to pay through the teeth for the speed."

"Yeah," Charlie nodded in agreement. "I've already thanked my mom for that. Twice." Then he frowned, "Though I really don't know how she managed to get it perfectly tailored without me there."

The manager of Angels' House shrugged again. "Some moms can be freaky like that. And your mom's great, so it doesn't surprise me."

"Yes," Constance raised an eyebrow at Charlie. "A lot of people around here would like to meet your parents, actually. Any idea when that might happen?"

Charlie winced and shook his head. "I don't know. They want to see the House, and help out around here if they can, but they're both so busy all the time. My mom's got—I think—five different cases open this week, and my dad just started another big project for the city. And they have to go to that thing in Washington next weekend."

"'That thing in Washington,'" Lily smirked as she quoted him curiously, then raised an eyebrow as the mathematician shrugged.

"Some conference, I think. One for Mom's work. She's just taking Dad with her to turn it into a mini-vacation afterwards. I think."

"I thought Annie talked to you about showing an interest in your parents lives?"

"I do!" the genius protested with a frown.

Constance was smiling at both of them, "Then perha—" she stopped abruptly with a frown, glancing towards the front of the building, almost like she could see through the floor to the entryway. "We have company."

Charlie frowned and started reaching towards the front of the House with his empathetic senses even as Lily picked up the phone on her desk.

"I'm calling Gunn's patrol back," Lily explained, sighing as she added, "Good thing Charlie insisted on all the Watch leaders taking phones on patrol, huh?"

It'd taken some work to get all of the Watch leaders to accept the cell phones Charlie had bought for them, but pure logic had eventually won out and now all of them were carrying phones that'd been mystically enhanced by Constance—who'd apparently become their primary witch at some point—so that low batteries and reception was never a problem. Meaning they could get in touch with them, or the teams could call for back-up no matter where they were.

Charlie shook those thoughts aside and again reached out empathetically. It was easy to pinpoint the lobby, because the girl currently at the desk—Charlie though it was Sheryl—was extremely nervous. Then he had to start at the strange amount of apathy, just barely colored with disdain and…the only word he could think of was violence. It wasn't anger or hate, it was just a pent up willingness to cause harm. He frowned at Constance, "What…?"

"Hey Gunn, we need you guys to come back to the House early…We're not sure yet, but there could be some trouble… Thanks. See you soon… Bye."

Constance waited until Lily had hung up before explaining. "This isn't demons or vampires, my friends. One or two of our visitors have mystical abilities, but I believe they're all completely human." She sighed, as Lily's phone rang. "That would be the front desk. Tell her to let them come up, it won't do us any good keeping them downstairs."

Lily frowned at her, but answered after the second ring. "Hello. Hi Sheryl…" the blonde blinked, her frown deepening, "Yeah… Yeah… OK…" she sighed. "OK, send them up." She slammed the phone down to stare at Constance, "It's a group of lawyers from Wolfram and Hart, shouldn't we at least—"

"Two of the lawyers on the way up are fairly big names at Wolfram and Hart. They wouldn't come themselves if this was a hit of any kind. They're here as lawyers, with bodyguards." The witch nodded to the phone again. "You might want to call Mrs. Ward. She's the closest thing the House has to a lawyer on-staff."

Charlie frowned, "Isn't she retired?" he murmured, while Lily obediently made a quick call to the much more powerful witch.

"Hi Madam Ward, it's Lily. Could you come over here, please? We have some company from Wol—…Yeah, them…OK. See you in ten minutes or so. Thanks." After she finished, Lily started frantically rearranging her desk, mostly by grabbing everything on it and dumping it into one of the drawers while Constance finally answered Charlie's question.

"Yes, but she still knows the law. So unless you want to pull your mother into this, Agatha Ward is who we want to talk to. Besides, she and several other coven leaders are meeting only a few blocks away, remember? Like she just said," Constance nodded to Lily, "They can be here in a few minutes. Ten, at most."

All three turned towards the door as a hurried knock came through it.

Lily slammed the desk drawer she'd crammed all of the papers they'd been looking over into before rising and calling to the door, Constance and Charlie rising with her, "Come in."

The door opened quickly, their nervous desk attendant all-but dashing in after it, but only just out of the way fast enough to avoid being trampled by the mountains of muscle that came in behind her.

Two men that towered over her respectable five-foot-six, both clearly six-foot-something with massively muscular frames dressed in clean-cut suits that did nothing to hide just how dangerous these men could undoubtedly be given the slightest provocation. Charlie was briefly reminded of the half-breed demons that often took jobs as bouncers outside of clubs all over the city, but Sineya wasn't reacting at all to their presence: usually he'd hear something from her if anything demonic or supernatural was nearby, and she was silent. Plus, Constance had already said they were human. Still, they were the source of the suppressed-violence he was feeling. The superiorly dressed and much less-dangerous looking individuals that stepped in behind them were the source of the much more peculiar apathy. And all five were at least slightly disdainful.

One was Cosvell, who wasn't quite as apathetic as his partners. No, he was nervous in their presence, but completely disdainful of the House itself. One of the other lawyers was a woman with long-brown hair, dressed in what was probably the latest fashion for women's suits. The final lawyer was a man that was probably only a little older than Don, dressed like his partner in the latest designer suit. All three were carrying briefcases.

After a moment of speculative silence, the new male-lawyer stepped forward, one hand held out to Charlie. "Dr. Charles Eppes, I presume?"

Charlie nodded slowly, reluctantly accepting the lawyer's hand but shaking it firmly before quickly releasing it to then grudgingly do the same with the woman's hand. "I'm Dr. Eppes," he confirmed with a nod, then stopped, not really wanting to reveal anything they didn't already know, regardless of society's polite conventions.

"I'm Lindsey McDonald, this is Lilah Morgan and I believe you've already met Mr. Cosvell." McDonald paused, glancing around before smiling at Lily and gesturing towards the door. "I believe I saw several more chairs outside, may we—"

Lily blinked, clearly restrained herself from immediately refusing, and instead she nodded, "Um, sure, I'll—"

"Oh no, please." McDonald shook his head again, and gestured towards one of their massive guards, "Mr. Paevin will be happy to get them."

It only took the guard a moment to return with three chairs—one of his huge hands easily able to hold onto two chairs in a slightly awkward grip while the other brought in a second. The lawyers immediately moved towards the new seats while Paevin took his post by the door again.

"There, that's a bit more comfortable for everyone," McDonald smiled at them again, waiting until Charlie, Constance and Lily had also reluctantly sat down after adjusting their chairs to make it easy to watch the lawyer: and to make sure none of them had their back to any of the people from Wolfram and Hart. When the three remained silent, his gaze focused on Charlie again as he continued, "We're here representing Mr. Holland Manners, Vice-President of Wolfram and Hart Special Projects. Mr. Cosvell said you were reluctant to meet with Mr. Manners, Dr. Eppes, and we hoped to set any worries you might have to rest."

Charlie nodded slowly, suppressing a frown and ignoring the sharp looks his friends were sending him. "Mr. Cosvell was unwilling to say what the meeting was about this morning. To my knowledge, I have no reason to meet with any member of your firm. I already have excellent legal representation."

"Yes," Ms. Morgan stepped forward, smiling softly. "Cosvell mentioned that. Your mother has an impressive record. Though she is a bit more selective in her clientele then most." She tilted her head to the side slightly, "We were surprised to learn that this—Angels' House—did not yet have adequate legal rep—"

"We haven't needed it yet," Lily cut in quickly, one eyebrow rising. "Are you suggesting we do now?"

"No, Miss Wil—"

"It's O'Connor," Lily interrupted, her face tight and Charlie blinked at the sudden rush of panic he sensed from her that was just as suddenly suppressed. "Lily O'Connor."

"Of course, forgive me," Morgan shook her head slightly, a false smile still dominating her face. "Our researchers are among the best in the world, but even they make mistakes occasionally." Before Lily could reply the lawyer's eyes turned to Constance. "And Ms. Westwood, it's been a while."

"It has," Constance agreed with a short nod, her tone colder than Charlie had ever heard from her as her dark blue eyes locked with the lawyer's for a moment, before darting towards the bodyguards that were still looming back by the door.

"Please excuse Mr. Paevin and Mr. Bardoc," McDonald told them, still smiling widely. Although his smile was just as fake as his associates. "I'm afraid your establishment is located in somewhat dubious surroundings. Our security force couldn't let us come here without a few shadows."

Lily frowned at him, "No one here would harm anyone without reason."

"I'm sure," McDonald agreed with a seemingly easy nod, before shrugging, which looked strange as it made his entire formal-jacket roll for a fast flash of flippancy.

Annoyed with the 'pleasantries' after only a few minutes of them, Charlie shook his head and sighed. "Again, Ms. Morgan, Mr. McDonald, Mr. Cosvell, why are you here? I believe my m—attorney made it very clear this morning that any meetings with myself would need to be made through her office."

"She did indeed," McDonald replied, nodding slightly after shooting a sharp look as Cosvell that silenced any of the remarks the man clearly wanted to make. "Still, we were hoping we might be of service here."

"At Angels' House, you mean?" Lily asked, one pale eyebrow rising again.

"Yes," McDonald confirmed with a smile. "Establishments such as these often need help—legally and financially—to survive. Though you've certainly already had quite a bit of success with the city's generosity, the public's opinion can be very—" he waved his hand as if the action would help him pick the right word.

"Finicky?" Morgan suggested and her associated nodded.

"Yes, finicky, if not managed well. Wolfram and Hart would like to assist Angels' House in that regard."

"We seem to be doing well enough on our own, thank you," Lily shook her head slightly.

McDonald nodded again, "Of course. But that's no reason not to accept hel—"

"Many of the people we want to help don't trust big businesses and corporations, Mr. McDonald," Lily told him, still frowning as she folded her hands in front of her but remained standing.

"Perhaps, but they—"

This time Charlie cut him off, seeing what Lily was aiming for, "Are our number one priority."

"Of course," McDonald nodded again, though his smile had disappeared. After a moment of silence he forced another shrug while slipping a hand into his coat pocket to draw a card out of it, moving closer to Lily's desk to place the card on top of it. "Well, here's my card if you find reason to change your mind."

Lily nodded, "Thank you. Is that all?"

"No," Ms. Morgan moved over to the desk also, setting her briefcase on the edge to open it slightly and shuffle through its contents for a moment before pulling a small piece of paper out. Then, after clicking the case shut, she handed the paper to Charlie. "We have reason to believe this girl visited your shelter last week. Do you recognize her?"

Charlie kept his face blank as he stared down at a photograph of a smiling Denise Williams. After a moment he shook his head, "No, I don't. But I'm really not good with names or faces," he handed the picture to Lily. "That's something I'm probably going to have to work on when I start teaching."

"You could just make your students wear nametags," Lily suggested, a clear laugh in her voice even as her eyes turned to the picture. She looked at it a moment, but also shook her head. "No. She looks a little familiar, so she might've been here at some point but we get so many visitors, the ones that aren't regulars are kinda hard to keep track of." She handed the picture back to Mogan, "Sorry."

"Why do you want to know, anyway?" Charlie asked after a moment, while Mogan shook her head in response to Lily's apology. "I thought lawyers just handled stuff in court, don't you let the police and other investigators handle everything else?"

Both McDonald and Morgan laughed, shaking their heads.

"Oh, we do a fair amount of leg-work too," Morgan told him.

McDonald continued with a nod, "Miss Williams is a client of ours. As is her fiancé, Russell Winters. Mr. Winters would like to resolve their dispute with as little fuss as possible. I believe he still wants to marry her, despite her flightiness."

Charlie shrugged, deciding to ignore the elevation in Denise's supposed-relationship with Winters. They all knew Winters' had never asked Denise to marry him, nor would he. "That really doesn't have anything to do with us."

"Mr. Winters would like to at least see Miss Williams," McDonald told them, his voice firm. "And as she has visited here before—"

"If we see here, we can tell her that, I guess," Charlie shrugged. "Though we certainly won't force her, whether she has reason to hide from him or not."

"Mr. Winters has never been accused of and shall never be convicted of any crime." McDonald told him, tone a little cooler than before as he finished firmly, "Ever."

Charlie shrugged again, "I wouldn't know about things like that, really. My mother and brother are the ones that work with the legal system, I'm just a mathematician."

"Oh come now, Dr. Eppes." Ms. Morgan shook her head, smiling at him. "You're hardly 'just a mathematician.' Many have hailed you as the modern-day Einstein."

"I've heard that," Charlie admitted, but shrugged again. "Not sure how true it is. B—"

"Our firm has more faith in you, doctor," Ms. Morgan cut in, her voice still warm but professional. "It is our hope that you might consider consulting with us." Her colleague cut in when Charlie started to shake his head.

"Just part-time, of course," Mr. McDonald said, his tone warmer again. "We understand that you have plans to go into teaching—"

"Always an admirable goal," Ms. Morgan commented, ignoring the look McDonald shot her at the interruption.

"—But surely, with two members of your family working in the legal system, you yourself must have some interest in it?"

Truthfully Charlie had never looked into his mother's work. Not really. He'd helped with some statistical analyses and the like, but that was about it. And it wasn't like he could help with Don's work. He only saw Don a few times a year at best and his brother had no interest in airing any work stories—past or on-going—at their family gatherings. But despite the disgust he felt at the obvious immorality demonstrated by Wolfram and Hart, researching them, combined with his involvement in Annie's patrols, then the Watch and the House, had stirred some interest.

"I guess," the genius allowed, shrugging slightly as the lawyers smiled at him. Though he was a little amused to note that Cosvell's smile looked more like a grimace—obviously someone really didn't want him to work part-time for Wolfram and Hart. It made Charlie wonder exactly what his mother had said to the gray-eyed man. "Though I'd obviously be more inclined to helping my mother. I know where she stands on almost everything, where she draws lines."

McDonald was obviously suppressing a frown even as Morgan kept smiling, and shrugged. "There's a funny thing about lines, you know. They're so easy to blur. Just like black and white—you mix 'em together and you get gray. Everyone's gray."

"Maybe, but some are much closer to white than others."

"Ah yes, the sheep of the world." Morgan tilted her head slightly, still somehow smiling. "Though I would've taken you for one of the wolves, even with that hair. But maybe you're still a pup. Not ready to be out in the big-bad world."

Before anything more could be said, Lily's office door opened and Gunn walked in, followed by several members of his Watch patrol-group.

"This is—"

McDonald cut Lily's introduction off with a nod towards Gunn, "Mr. Gunn. Your reputation precedes you," he stepped over to the slightly younger, holding his card out again. "I'm Lindsey McDonald with Wolfram and Hart—"

"Evenin', counselor," Gunn nodded to him, but then brushed by without accepting the lawyer's card, moving over to Lily's desk to lean against the side just a little bit behind Charlie while the rest of the group took up places around the room. Charlie was a little amused to see the nervous looks the lawyers' bodyguards were shooting the massive Rye and the almost-as-massive Gerald while Devon leaned against the office door-jam. "Sorry ta interrupt, but we've got a meeting with the heads here."

"I'm sure," McDonald nodded, still smiling as he slipped his card back into the breast-pocket of his blazer. "We only have a few more questions."

When Gunn opened his mouth, probably to protest, Charlie cut in. "Then ask them quickly, please. I'd rather not be here all night." He suppressed a sigh of relief as the familiar presence—the calm, controlled power—of Agatha Ward and the other coven leaders washed over him, and he didn't even try to suppress the urge to look towards the open doorway as they could clearly hear more people climbing the House's steps.

Lily offered the lawyers a slightly forced—but entirely fake—smile of apology, "I'm sorry. We're supposed to be meeting this evening."

"Oh, we won't be much longer," McDonald repeated. He shot a glance at Cosvell that made the slightly older lawyer close his mouth without saying anything as Devon moved in and to the side of office doorway to let several of the most powerful witches in the city enter the room. "I agree with Dr. Eppes, believe me," he insisted with a small grin. "The day's been more than long enough already."

Charlie rose from his seat at Madam Ward neared him and turned it slightly to make it available for her, "Madam?"

"Thank you, Dr. Eppes," the eighty-something-year-old woman nodded, smiling gently as she sat down before sparing anyone else in the room a glance. "Mr. McDonald, Miss Morgan, what brings you here?"

"Mrs. Ward," Morgan nodded to the elder lady, the move seemed easy for her but her jaw was a little too tightly clenched for her to be truly relaxed. Though Charlie could still barely detect any emotion from her, which was starting to bother him.

"We've already cleared up most of our business here," McDonald cut in, shaking his head. "We just have one more question for Dr. Eppes."

Charlie raised an eyebrow in response, but remained silent.

"This final question comes from our Senior Partners, our, uh, board of directors, if you will. Our techs noticed some research you've been doing over the past few days, and they would like to know if we might help you find whatever it is you're looking for?"

The genius started slightly, but tried to hide it by replying quickly. "I'm—I'm not quite sure what you're talking about."

McDonald's eyebrow rose, "Wolfram and Hart has a whole department of technicians that monitors internet traffic related to the corporation and our clientele. And according to their reports you've been busy the last few days. We'd like to know what you're looking for and why."

After a moment Charlie shook his head, "Just looking, I guess." He wondered how much of this 'department' was actually made up of computer-techs and just how dependent it was on magic. Such flagrant use of the mystical arts would, according to Constance and many other mages he'd recently spoken to on the subject, be well-inline with Wolfram and Hart's egocentric exploitations of magic.

"Hmm, really?" Morgan shook her head slowly, her forced-smile having faded slightly but still pulling slightly at the corners of her lips.

Charlie deliberately met her eyes straight on as he replied, "Really," his tone firm even as he felt Sineya's return to his side of the bond. She didn't seem particularly bothered by the lawyers, but she was interested.

"A whole department to monitor internet traffic related to your company seems a bit over-the-top for a company with nothing to hide," Constance spoke up again, breaking the icy, speculative silence she'd been holding for several minutes before.

"Wolfram and Hart is a legitimate corporation with nothing to hide, ma'am," McDonald replied coolly, his face blank again. "Despite numerous investigations by the police—here in LA and elsewhere—as well as the FBI, the NSA and many other agencies."

"If you've got nothin' ta hide I gotta wonder why so many people are lookin'," Gunn commented, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the lawyers, though he didn't move from the side of Lily's desk.

McDonald shrugged, "We're lawyers. Everyone hates lawyers."

"'Cept when they need one," Cosvell piped up in agreement.

"Oh no," Morgan shook her head. "They hate us even then, they just make an effort to hide it. Still," she sighed and shook her head, seeming sad. "You're probably right. We'll have to have a talk with the PR department about improving our public image sometime soon."

Gunn scoffed, "How? Not like you can buy up all the reporters in the city, freedom a speech means they can write anythin' they want."

Morgan laughed at that, shaking her head. "True. Doesn't necessarily mean they can publish it, though. And one should never underestimate the power of positive publicity."

"No," McDonald agreed with a nod, even as he raised an eyebrow at Charlie. "But surely, even with the media's often less than flattering portrayal of our firm, you must recognize that—after all the investigation files you hacked into, LAPD, FBI—that Wolfram and Hart couldn't possibly have anything to hide."

Charlie wondered why the two lawyers were so completely focused on him. Sure, their bodyguards recognized Gunn and the other Watch members as the real threats in the room, but the two head lawyers almost ignored everyone else in the room. After a moment of silence he shrugged again, "I really couldn't say." He shook his head as all three lawyers shot frowns of varying degrees in his direction. "But I certainly couldn't agree that just because someone else conducted similar research before I started mine that their findings are all there are to find."

Lily spoke up again before either lawyer could reply, "Is there anything else?" her tone clearly stated that there better not be, though her words were wholly polite.

McDonald and Morgan glanced at each other—though neither seemed to care about Cosvell, who was looking back and forth between them—and then Morgan nodded.

"For the moment at least, though we do hope to hear from you in the very near future, Dr. Eppes," she smiled at him again, even as she took out another one of her cards and moved forward, grasping his hand lightly but firmly to place it in his pliable palm and closed his fist around it.

Charlie was tempted to just drop the card as he watched her step back, but he realized that would be both unnecessary and childish, so he refrained and instead nodded. "I'll think about it."

"Please do," McDonald encouraged again, smiling at him and then at the others around the room. He shook his head as Lily stated to move around her desk, "No, thank you Miss O'Connor. We can let ourselves out." So saying, he nodded and moved towards the door. Once there he stopped to look back at Charlie again, "Do keep in mind, doctor, that it can be dangerous to be too disagreeable." Then he led the others out of the room at a sedate pace.

Gunn jerked his head towards the door just as the lawyers' bodyguards had passed through, sending the other members of his Watch group out after them. "Make sure they don't get lost." As the door closed behind them, he looked at Charlie and raised an eyebrow. "I can throw that in the can for ya, Doc."

Charlie shook his head, frowning slightly at the nickname that was becoming far too popular here. "No. I'll hold onto it." He shrugged when all of his friends stared at him, though he was a little relieved to note that Constance, at least, was nodding. "What? It's a source of information, just like anything else."

Gunn laughed, "You're not actually gonna try ta pump info outta one a the evil lawyers, are ya?"

"Maybe." Charlie shrugged again as he leaned down to slip Lilah Morgan's card into his backpack, which was leaning again the side of Lily's desk. He paused momentarily to look at Constance, "It's not—"

"No. It's safe. Just an ordinary business card," the witch reassured him, smiling as the mathematician finished sliding the card home before sitting up in his seat once more.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at Gunn, "So, how was your patrol before we called?"

6 1 9 2 0 8 0 1 9 0 0 0 1 6 1 5 9 1 4 2 0 0 0 0 1 5 6 0 0 0 2 2 9 5 2 3

Summers' House, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 4, 1996

Faith jerked awake with a gasp, drawing in frantic breaths as she struggled to suppress the panic that she could feel erupting from someplace within her.

"Faith?"

The brunette couldn't suppress a start even as her instinctive—Slayer driven—response was to throw the nearest weapon—a small knife she'd kept under her pillow since she was seven—at the thing that had startled her.

Fortunately it was Buffy and not Joyce that had come to check on her, and the older Slayer didn't even bat an eyelash as she snatched the tiny knife out of midair just a few inches away from her face. Though she did frown at the knife and then at its thrower. "OK, this we might need to talk about after. Can't have you accidentally killing my Mom, can we?"

Faith shook her head in agreement, wincing at the thought even as her breathing got a little easier, something in her—maybe the Slayer, maybe the little girl that had always wanted an older sibling—infinitely reassured by the older teenager's presence. "Sorry."

Buffy shrugged as she set the knife down on Faith's bedside table before dropping down onto the side of the bed. "You OK?"

"I-I'm—" Faith shook her head, frowning as she spotted the clock, which read 4:37. Only a little over three hours after they'd gotten in from patrol. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"I was thirsty," the blonde replied.

Faith was pretty sure she way lying. It was hard to tell with B. Sometimes she was an open book. Other times she was a blank slate.

"So was that a nightmare or a Slay-mare?"

Faith blinked, and then chuckled, "Slay-mare?"

"They're not really nightmares. Giles calls them 'the dreams,' 'cept there's nothin' dreamy about 'em. Willow calls them 'visions' and Whistler—messenger from the Powers-That-Be—calls 'em messages from his employers." The older Slayer shrugged again. "What'd you wanna call 'em?"

Faith shrugged, "Slay-mares works, I guess."

"So?"

Faith closed her eyes, trying to remember what she'd seen, but then shook her head. She bit her lip as she opened her eyes again to meet the other Slayer's gaze. "I don't remember wha—"

"Start with what you do remember. Something scared you?"

"Yeah," the brunette nodded slowly. "Yeah. Somethin'—" she closed her eyes again, forcing herself to remember that terrible feeling. "Something—No some things are coming."

"More than one demon?"

"Yeah—damn it!" Faith snapped, her eyes coming open as she clenched her fists. "Why can't I remember?!"

"I know, it sucks, doesn't it?" Buffy shrugged when Faith shot her a confused look. "When we first start gettin' these things, they're always so vagued-up. They're practically useless until, like, right before the apocalypse." She shrugged again as she rose, "Not much we can do to change that, though. Want some water?"

Faith glanced at her bedside table to see her customary water glass was empty, and blinked as she remembered finishing it off right before bed. "Yeah," She nodded as she rose, grabbing her cup as she slipped out of bed to follow the blonde downstairs. She glanced at the bathroom as she walked past it, "Faucet's fine ya know."

"Yeah, but bottle's better. 'Sides, Mom just got a huge pack of Fiji water. Can't let it go to waste."

Faith laughed softly, mindful of the echo that risked waking Buffy's mom up, as her bedroom was right at the top of the stairs. She shook her head as the older Slayer led the way into the kitchen. "I don't think water goes bad, B."

Buffy shrugged, "Charlie said something about the plastic breaking down, but I'm pretty sure that takes a while. Still. It's Fiji." She took a sip of her drink then looked at it with a small frown. "Where is Fiji, anyway?" she asked as she grabbed one for the younger teen before closing the fridge door.

"Think it's somewhere near Australia." Faith shrugged, accepting one of the chilled, oddly-shaped bottles the blonde handed her from the fridge and easily twisting the cap off with next-to-no effort.

"Oh. It's not in the Caribbean?"

Faith blinked at the blonde. "No. I'm pretty sure it's a lot farther than that," she commented as she hopped up slightly to sit on the side of the counter, taking a long drink from her bottle. "You could always look it up."

Buffy shook her head, "Nah. Too much work," she raised an eyebrow at the younger teen, "Mom hates it when we do that, you know."

"You still do it."

"I know," Buffy nodded as she hopped up beside her, shrugging as she opened her water bottle again. "It makes me feel a little less height deprived. You know, puts almost everyone at eye-level with me," she gestures around her head with a wave before tossing back another gulp of water.

Faith laughed again, smiling slightly. "I guess it does," she chuckled, shaking her head as she glanced around.

"So it help at all?"

"What?" Faith blinked at the elder Slayer again.

"The waking, walking and water," Buffy nodded towards her again, "Help you remember anything?" she tapped her head, before taking another sip of water.

Faith blinked again, thought about it, then shook her head. "No. No, I don't think so. I'm not even scared anymore."

"Well," the blonde shrugged again, "It was worth a try. And hey, not scared is good." Then she frowned at the nearby clock. "Are you tired?"

"Not really, no."

"Wanna do another patrol? Really clean the town out before I leave tomo—tonight?"

"Sure," Faith shrugged. "I mean, I can sleep in most of the day. But don't you have to go to school?"

The blonde shrugged again. "Yeah, but I have no tests, all my homework's done and I have a sub in math, so I don't really have to be a hundred percent awake for most of the day. Just when I report to Giles and when I get to the LA after the two-hour bus ride I can take a power-nap on. Oh. Make sure I don't leave without the Watcher book, will you?"

"OK, sure." Faith finished her water off and put the cap back on before easily tossing her bottle into the Summers' nearby recycling bin, where it was quickly followed by Buffy's empty bottle as both Slayers hopped off the counter. "Let's go hunting."

Buffy glanced at Faith's nightwear and then down at her own—tank tops and boxers in different colors and styles. "We might wanna change first."

Faith glanced at her own attire and shrugged again, "Yeah. Guess we should at least put some pants on, shouldn't we?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, then both Slayers hurried upstairs again on nearly silent feet.

2 2 1 6 6 2 5 0 1 9 0 0 0 1 6 1 5 9 1 4 2 0 0 0 0 1 5 6 0 0 0 2 2 9 5 2 3

Bus Terminal, Union Station, Los Angeles, California – Friday, October 4, 1996

Buffy looked around, shaking her head slightly to get rid of the last-minute grogginess she still had from her nap. A wide smile spread across her face as Sineya suddenly pinpointed Charlie's familiar presence, and she was turning to hurry towards her welcoming party even before they'd started calling out to her.

"Annie!" Mrs. Eppes was smiling as Buffy hugged her and she enfolded the younger blonde in a warm hug. "Welcome back."

"You don't mind?" Buffy glanced up at Charlie's mom, a barely-there worry resurfacing with the opportunity to ask.

"Of course not," Mrs. Eppes shook her head firmly. "We're all happy to have you. Alan wanted to come to, but he had a few things he had to finish up at work, since we're going to Washington next week."

Buffy nodded as she stepped back, "It's OK," before she could say any more another blonde's arms closed around her. "Hi Lily," she smiled warmly at the older teen, glad to see that she was definitely doing a lot better than before. "Good to see you."

"You too, Annie," Lily nodded, smiling as she stepped back. "Everyone at the House can't wait to see you again." Her smile widened as she stepped to the side slightly, giving Buffy a clear path to Charlie.

After a moment's hesitation the Slayer shook her head and darted into the genius's arms, seizing him in what was probably a much-too-tight hug, judging from the gasp of air he immediately took, but he didn't complain as he returned the hug as tightly as he could.

"Hi Annie," the genius murmured into her hair but easily caught by her super-sensitive hearing.

"Hi Charlie," the Slayer returned just as softly. The words whispered into his shirt in the loud, crowded station somehow still made their way to Charlie's entirely human ears, while in both their heads Sineya purred in contentment.

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End of Chapter 6: Mortal Peril – Part I.

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AN: Well, there's Part I of Mortal Peril. Sorry there's no real peril to our protagonists mortality in it. Makes the title seem a bit misleading, but most of that's in Parts II and III. This is mostly a transitional chapter. But it's around 40 pages long, so I decided to stop it there. Plus that was a nice, not-quite-cliffy-ending. And there was a lot of foreshadowing and some character development, so it's not a total loss, right?

…And I don't think I actually have any 'in chapter notes' for this chapter. Weird. If I missed some, please let me know. Or if I threw something in that you think should be explained, please say so. Who knows, maybe I meant to explain it and just forgot to do so.

I'm hoping to have the next part—which is a lot more action—ready 'soon'. Unfortunately, school work and life in general does have to come first and I have a lot of paper/projects due and some tests coming up in the next two weeks. So when I'll be able to work on the new chapter is anyone's guess.

Hope everyone liked this one, though.

Thanks to those of you that have reviewed already. It's always appreciated. ^_^

Bye for now!

Jess S

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NEXT: Chapter 7: Mortal Peril – Part II.