The afternoon lull had fallen on the gallery, and Joyce took the opportunity to do some dusting. While her customer traffic wasn't high, it was surprisingly steady, with accompanying dirt trailing in with the people. She had a few locals who came in regularly, but she wondered how many of the apparent tourists were not actually human Was there a non-human California sightseeing trail, with Sunnydale and its Hellmouth in the guide book as one of the things one should stop to see? She straightened her display of art prints and postcards and imagined other stores in town with brochures to more esoteric points of interest. Maybe there was even a demonic Chamber of Commerce. Anya would know. She probably had those brochures in the Magic Box.

Joyce remembered the demons she'd met at the Convent of St. Eugene, and she imagined a carload of them on vacation, with little Baynar whistling "Are we there yet?" at his long-suffering parents from the backseat. Her chuckle made the man in the far corner of the shop glance up from his study of some Buddhist carvings from India, and Joyce went back to the counter to hide her blushes.

The bell on the door rang as Anya came in. "Hello, Joyce. You said you had an idea for us to make money together?"

Joyce laughed. She did enjoy Anya's simplicity. "Yes, I did. Could you come take a look at some things I just acquired?" She gestured to some boxes behind the counter. "Apparently some of the things I pick up have magical attributes, and I don't think I should have those sorts of things here. I was wondering if I could place them in the Magic Box as a consignment item."

"Why not keep them here? Lots of demons collect art, and some of them like human art as well."

"I wouldn't know what to do if anything started acting-oddly. And my assistant wouldn't really be able to cope with customers who are odder than most."

Anya shrugged and nodded. "That's true. Some of the most non-human demons really like human art. I guess it's exotic to them." She looked into the boxes. "I don't see anything overtly magical, but there are a couple of these Yoruban figurines that have some interesting symbols. We could set up a section in the Magic Box to put the more artsy things, call it an annex of your gallery, add a couple of zeros to the prices."

She looked confused when Joyce laughed. "Never mind, dear. So nothing in this shipment has the same kind of aura as the spirit bowls over there?"

"Let me make sure."

She turned partly away, then Joyce saw that her face had changed from her normal pretty one to the heavier, vein-laced demonic look. Joyce debated telling Anya that she didn't mind the other face, but if Anya didn't want to make a point of it, she wasn't going to force the issue.

Anya frowned. "There is something else here, other than those bowls." She stared at the new shipment box, then looked around the shop. The customer who was still in the shop had gone to the farthest corner and was staring intently into a coffee table book of the works of Calder. "Him. Something about him."

Joyce studied the man. He gave off an air of shabbiness despite his new clothes. His hands looked old, thin and gnarled, but his hair was still mostly brown. The more she looked, the more he seemed to be trying to hide from her. She looked at Anya, who was watching the man very carefully, and felt that she had sufficient otherworldly backup for a confrontation. "Excuse me, sir?"

He pretended to be startled and looked over his shoulder, but he didn't turn completely. "Yes?"

His voice was British, but a bit scratchy, the way a voice got when someone had a cold and had been coughing a great deal. But it sounded familiar, as well. Joyce moved out from behind the counter, watching him. He turned his face away, then sagged a bit before turning to face her. She stared at him, looking for similarities between the thin, lined face and anything in her memory. She wondered if her recent sickness was the cause for her confusion or something else. "Have we met?"

The man sighed, then smiled slightly. "Yes, Mrs. Summers, we have."

She remembered the smile. The night of the band candy was blurry, but there was a lot she remembered from that night. She gasped and stepped back.

Anya came around quickly. "Joyce, what's wrong?"

"You," she whispered.

He held up his hands. "Please, I'm not here to cause any problems."

Anya raised a hand and glared at the man. "Who is he, Joyce?"

She finally caught her breath. "Ethan Rayne."

Anya's demon face came back into view. "I've heard of him. He causes trouble."

Rayne had been staring at her, but he shook himself. "Not this time. I'm-looking for someone."

"You're looking for Rupert Giles," Joyce said.

The old glint appeared momentarily, and the smile had edges before it faded. "Yes, I am."

"Why?" Anya said. "Looking to join up with him?"

Rayne managed something of his previous swagger. "Well, that would depend on what he's up to, I imagine. He's not at his old digs, and I haven't seen him at the store. Do you know where I can find him?"

Joyce looked at Anya, who frowned. "I don't think helping a chaos mage reunite with his old partner who's now a vampire would be a good idea," Anya said.

Rayne froze. "Vampire?" he whispered.

He swayed a little, and Joyce grabbed his arm. He felt very frail under her hands. "Anya, go put up the back in 30 minutes sign."

"But your customers-"

"Anya!" Joyce waited till she saw she was being obeyed, then helped Rayne back to the workroom and into a chair. He sat mostly under his own power, trembling. "Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee? I may have some brandy around."

He looked up in apparent surprise. "You're offering me hospitality? After what I've done?"

Behind her, Anya entered the workroom and gasped at Rayne's words. Joyce blinked at her, then looked back at Rayne. "Yes, of course I am."

He quirked another smile, then pressed his hands together as if in prayer. "I would be very grateful for some of that brandy you mentioned." He raised the tips of his fingers to his lips, then to his forehead.

Joyce went to the cupboard above the worktable to get the bottle of brandy. Her puzzled look to Anya brought her over. "Why is it so odd that I'd offer him something?" she asked softly.

"You invoked the laws of hospitality," Anya told her. "What he did indicates that he accepts the laws and will abide by them. If we don't hold to them, very bad things could happen."

Joyce frowned a moment, then nodded. "No harm will come to him while he's under my roof, and he will cause no harm so long as he's under my roof."

"How did you know?"

"Sociology classes, many tribes still use the laws of hospitality."

"Well, between mages and demons and such, those laws are more than just courtesy. Very old powers are involved with them, and no one risks crossing them. If something threatens him here, you're bound to protect him."

Joyce winced. "Then maybe I shouldn't call Buffy just yet."

"Maybe not just yet."

They got glasses and took the brandy back to Rayne. When they all had something to drink, Joyce held hers up. "To hospitality."

Anya held hers up as well. "Yes, to hospitality."

A faint chuckle escaped as Rayne waved his in their general direction. "Indeed." They clinked their glasses against his. "And all its ramifications." He drank half the brandy, and his smiled faded. "Rupert's a vampire?"

Joyce pulled over a stool. "Yes, I'm afraid he is."

"How horrible has he been?"

Anya and Joyce looked at each other. "He hasn't seemed to be horrible at all," Anya said. "The town's not ankle-deep in blood, if that's what you're asking."

"You'd hardly know anything's different," Joyce added. "Except there is that look in the back of his eyes that makes you wonder just what he's thinking."

Rayne shuddered. "Yes, I know that look."

She hesitated, then put a hand on his arm. "I think you need to speak to my daughter."

"Oh, I'd really rather not."

"Buffy knows a great deal more about what's going on than I do." Joyce took a deep breath. "And I'd be sure to tell her about the law of hospitality."

Rayne glanced around. "No offense, Mrs. Summers, but I am not meeting with your daughter the Slayer here. There are far too few exits for my taste."

"There are neutral areas," Anya said. "You always need somewhere to meet where it's not going to end up with body parts all over the floor."

"I'm always in favor of that," Rayne said solemnly.

Joyce frowned. "Buffy's mentioned some place called Willy's?"

"Oh, that's not neutral," Anya said. "That's just convenient. I don't think Buffy knows about this one. She doesn't go to the library that much."

Xander pulled up in front of the library, but paused before turning off his car's engine. "Did we know that the Sunnydale Public Library was a center of demonic activity before now?"

Buffy peered out of the passenger side window at the impressive Gothic structure. "I'm trying to remember if I knew Sunnydale had a public library."

In the backseat, Willow, next to Tara, bounced. "Oh, it's a wonderful library! I spent lots of time here as a kid. Miss Wiznizki let me into the grown-up section *months* before I was allowed to be. She'd make me tea on slow afternoons and we talked about stuff."

Xander grinned at Buffy. "I tried to tell her that Miss Wiz was a witch and was just going to lure her to some oven in the back, but she never believed me."

Buffy grinned back. "Miss Wiz?"

"Hey, I was eight, Wiznizki is hard enough now."

"Who's the librarian now?" Tara asked.

"Oh, it's still Miss Wiznizki," Willow said, then she frowned. "But she was a little white-haired old lady back when we were kids. And my mom said she was librarian when Mom was a kid."

They all looked at each other. Buffy frowned. "I'm thinking her still being the librarian may not be just because she's got a rotten retirement plan."

Xander shrugged and sighed. "Not like there aren't demons everywhere else. And there would need to be some way to enforce it being neutral."

Willow leaned over the back of the seat. "Buffy, are we really going to trust Ethan Rayne? I don't think he's going to keep his word, he's a chaosmage."

Tara cleared her throat. "The laws of neutrality and hospitality aren't something people play around with. No one would violate them without expecting serious consequences."

Buffy turned to her. "But Anya said the hospitality thing only applied to Mom's shop." She shook her head. "Mom has got to stop offering tea and hot chocolate to everybody that crosses her path."

"No," Tara said, "she should keep doing it. Just the offer proves she's willing to abide by the old laws."

Willow frowned. "But it only counts if they accept the offer."

Xander nodded. "So stay far away from the ones who don't accept."

"Yes," Tara said. "I bet Joyce has had more demons and night folk in her store than she realizes, especially if it's known she keeps the traditional courtesies."

"But I don't want Mom dealing with demons!" Buffy protested.

Xander laughed. "So when will you be moving out of Sunnydale, then?"

Buffy sighed and nodded. She looked towards the library. "Anya said Ethan would meet us inside. Do we trust him?"

"No," Xander and Willow said together. Tara looked undecided.

Buffy grimaced. "OK, do we go in ready for him to make the first wrong move, then?"

After some muttering, the others said yes.

"Then we go."

The setting sun threw amazing shadows off of the crags and crennelations of the library. Gargoyles sat at each corner, and Buffy watched them carefully to make sure they didn't move. "This is going to turn out to be one of those things like Dracula's castle,"she complained, "where this place has apparently been here forever and I had no idea until weird things start happening in it." She risked a look at Xander and winced at the look on his face. "Sorry for, you know, mentioning that."

"No, no," he said tightly, "why would I object to reminders of my days as a bug-eating minion of evil?"

Willow went over to hug his arm as they walked up the front walk. "Do you remember climbing into the space behind the books in the reference section here and falling asleep on each other?"

Xander relaxed and grinned. "I remember Miss Wiznizki pulling out that encyclopedia and peering in at us and saying, 'I don't think you're supposed to be shelved under this number, dears.'"

Buffy grinned at the two of them, then looked at Tara to share a "They're so cute when they're reminiscing" smile. The sad frown on Tara's face stopped her. "What's wrong?" she asked, moving closer so that Willow and Xander wouldn't hear.

Tara blinked and ducked her head. "Nothing. I just don't see them together much anymore."

"Yeah." Buffy looked back to enjoy watching tall Xander leaning down to laugh with Willow.

The doors were two giant slabs of something grey and old, with small, heavily leaded windows. Metal bands ran over the surface, but there weren't any of the snarling faces Buffy had been expecting.

Xander ran his fingers along the grain. "Cedar. Very old, I think these doors are one plank wide. Cedars don't normally get that big."

Tara looked at the carvings around the arched doorway. "Has this always been a library?"

"I think so," Willow said. She touched a bit of scrollwork that made up the doorhandle, then yanked her hand back and stuck her finger in her mouth. "Ow, poky bit."

Xander took the handle and pulled the door open. "Things get dinged as they get used. Allow my calluses to protect you, my ladies."

Buffy took a deep breath when she walked in. "I like the way libraries smell." Xander sneezed. "Bless you."

Willow's forehead crinkled. "That wonderful smell is the smell of books deteriorating. Poor books."

Tara kept walking slowly, her head tipped back so she could stare at the ceiling. "It's the most beautiful room I've ever been in."

Buffy looked up. "Ooh, pretty."

The big main room went up two stories, and the ceiling had stone tracery like in the pictures of old cathedrals. Between the lines of stone, the flat sections were painted dark blue, with small golden stars. Stone pillars held up the balcony that made up the second floor, and the pillars were carved with leaves and vines. A long wooden desk ran down the middle of the room, with the librarians in the middle.

Buffy leaned towards Willow. "Where is this Miss Wiz?" she whispered.

"Down at the far end, with the little kids."

All Buffy could see at the moment was a head of curly white hair with a crowd of half a dozen kids clustered at the counter. She looked around carefully, trying to spot Ethan Rayne, as well as any other strange patrons. There were dark corners back underneath the balcony, sheltered by the book shelves, and some of the moving shapes in those shadows didn't look quite human. Under the book smell she caught the spicy mustiness that she associated with demons, but she didn't hear anything wrong.

At the opposite end of the library from the kids' section was a group of chairs and tables and magazine racks. More than one of the readers was holding the material high enough to hide their faces. A copy of the New York Times lowered just far enough for Buffy to see familiar eyes. Tara gasped quietly and looked in that direction. Ethan Rayne's eyebrows went up a bit, then he slowly folded the paper.

"That bad?" Buffy whispered to Tara. Willow came over to take her girlfriend's arm and look concerned.

Tara shook her head. "Not . . . bad, really. But-not good. Just-churning and twisting and . . ."

Xander nodded. "Chaos."

Rayne got up from his chair and strolled towards a corner behind him, where some study rooms were located. Buffy led the others after him. When they got there, Rayne was waiting by a study room door. "Miss Summers," he said, with a slight nod.

"Mr. Rayne," she sneered. "Stay away from my mother."

"It is my second fondest wish that after tonight I will never set eye on Sunnydale again."

Xander frowned. "What's your fondest wish, not that I'm really eager to know."

Ethan looked at him, glanced at his neck, and frowned. "My fondest wish is to get out of this town before Rupert knows I'm here."

They took the conversation into the study room. Ethan took the chair nearest the door that let him have a wall at his back, and Buffy sat down across the table from him. Willow and Tara stood close together behind her, and Xander took up position in a corner with a view of everyone. Ethan raised an eyebrow at Buffy, looking very close to his usual conniving self.

"Why did you come here if you didn't want Giles to see you?" Buffy asked.

Ethan snorted. "Well, it's not like I knew he was a-a vampire." He looked away a moment.

"Were you going to get revenge for Giles turning you over to the Initiative?" Willow asked.

"I was planning to have . . . words with him on that," Ethan said, not looking at any of them. "He'd always had a bit of a warped sense of humor, but sending me off with those people seemed a bit-harsh."

Buffy saw scars on the side of his neck and running up into his hair. His hands looked as gnarled as her grandpa's hands, and he had been 84 when she last saw him. "Did they hurt you?" He met her eyes, and he looked like he wanted to laugh at her, but the pain in him wouldn't let him. She cleared her throat and looked down.

"How did you get away?" Tara asked softly.

Ethan's face changed completely when he looked at her. The faint smile he managed actually looked friendly. "According to conversations I overheard, someone in Washington decided that a godly nation shouldn't be trafficking in demonic things. I'm not sure if it was someone who was afraid for his soul or someone who simply refused to believe in demons and magic. In short, the Initiative had its budget terminated, and all its specimens had to be . . . disposed of."

Willow gasped. "They let the demons and vampires go?"

Ethan took a slow breath. "No." He clasped his hands together, but not before Buffy saw his fingers shake.

"So, did you escape," Xander asked from his corner, "or did they get squeamish when it came to someone more obviously human?"

"Xander," Willow scolded.

Ethan gave Xander a knowing look. "My fate was still being debated when one of my less moronic guards made a point of unlocking my cell and commenting loudly that the nearest doors to outside would be unsecured for the next half hour and a truck was bound to have had the keys left in the ignition by someone stupid. He walked away, and soon after, so did I."

"And you came looking for Giles," Buffy said.

Ethan nodded.

"What were your plans?"

He studied the tabletop. "To smack him in the head. To buy him a drink. To find him still alive." His voice cracked, and he clenched his jaw on more words.

Buffy felt bad for watching him like this, but she couldn't forget that he'd nearly gotten her killed more than once. "I guess we were thinking a worshiper of chaos would be happy that someone who had kicked his butt had gone to the dark side."

He looked at her, and his face was like something she'd seen in her nightmares. "One day, Miss Summers, you may turn around and suddenly discover that someone you've known and-cared about for the greater part of your life has been destroyed."

She kept most of the pain locked down, but some escaped in a gasp. She heard a noise from Xander's corner, but couldn't look around.

The sympathy in Ethan's eyes was cruel. "Or you already have. It isn't only good that grieves."

"Now, you look here-" Willow started.

Tara put a hand on her shoulder. "Willow, don't."

"But-!"

"Sweetie. No."

A lot of the tension went out of Ethan, and he smiled at Tara. "You are too good for the world, bean-uasal."

Tara did not smile back. "I know you've hurt people I care about, Mr. Rayne. I won't let you hurt them again."

He nodded and made a gesture in the air that left faint little sparkles behind. "The power of root and vine and air is not one I challenge, my dear. I can see what you're capable of, and I have no intention of giving you reason to prove it."

Willow frowned between him and Tara. "You can see it?"

He glanced at her quickly, then away. "The power to see auras is a very useful tool in any mage's arsenal."

"Anyway," Buffy interrupted. "What now?"

Ethan almost smiled at her. "Now I would like to leave before the evening progresses much further. Word travels as quickly as vampires in a small town, and I want to be away before certain words reach certain ears."

"You don't want him to know you're here."

He took several slow, shaky breaths. "Eyghon was his idea. We went with it eagerly, but it was Rupert's prompting that set us to summoning demons. More than once I was actually the one who talked him out of some of his more extravagent plans. Young Rupert did have a conscience, but one often had to remind him of it. A grown Rupert, in the fullness of his powers, without a conscience . . ." He met her eyes completely. "It frightens me."

Xander cleared his throat. "*You* were Giles' conscience? The voice of reason?"

Ethan's grin was wolfish. "I *always* know the possible consequences of my plans, for good and ill. Sometimes I choose to do it anyway."

Xander studied him. "Come what may?"

Ethan nodded. "Come what may."

"You ran from Eyghon," Buffy reminded him. "And tried to sic him on me."

"Well, of course, dear girl. When you know the consequences, you can make plans to try and avoid them. But when it doesn't work, I'm not going to whine about it. I'll just see what I can turn to my advantage."

"You'd make a horrible vampire," Buffy said.

"For a given definition of horrible, yes." Dreadful knowledge rode in Ethan's eyes. "So I think it's all for the best if I left as soon as possible."

Buffy looked around the room, seeing if anyone had anything else to say. Xander watched Ethan thoughtfully, but didn't look like he had any strong opinions either way. Willow was studying Tara, frowning as though she couldn't figure something out. Tara gazed back, looking a little sad.

When she turned back to Ethan, he was smirking just a little, but the malicious glee was missing. "Am I free to go, Miss Summers?" he asked with a twist to his smile.

She kept wanting to report the sighting of an old enemy, but she had no one to report to. No one who it would be a good idea to inform, anyway. She hated being on her own on these calls, and the others were dealing with undercurrents of their own. Things were trying to fall apart, and she couldn't figure out what she was supposed to grab to hold it all together.

She threw her hands up. "Yeah, fine, go away, already."

Ethan nodded and nimbly stood to head for the door. Buffy followed, the others trailing behind. Halfway across the library, Ethan paused. "I would like to speak to you privately for a moment, Miss Summers."

Willow and Xander both drew in breaths, obviously about to protest, but Buffy put up a hand to stop them. She studied Ethan for a few moments, then looked at her friends. "This is neutral ground, right?"

"Anya said so," Xander said, watching Ethan.

"Is that enforced or just something people agree to but can violate if they want to?"

Tara cleared her throat cautiously. "There are a lot of spells and wards hanging in the air in here. If someone caused problems, something would happen."

Willow looked around. "How do you know? Did you do a scrying?"

"I can see them. Well, not *see them* see them, but I can feel them. I can always feel magic." Tara gave Ethan an uneasy look.

Ethan smiled almost kindly. "I do apologize for that, my dear. Nature of the beast, I'm afraid."

Willow pouted. "I wish I could do that so easily."

Xander put an arm around her shoulder. "Got to leave something for everybody else, Wills."

Buffy looked at Tara. "So if he tried anything, alarms would go off."

Tara went wide-eyed at being consulted, then nodded. "Lots of alarms."

"OK." She looked at the others. "Brief private chat, guys. We'll be over there, in view." She turned to Ethan, who bowed his head and followed her lead. They stopped near where Ethan was sitting earlier, and Buffy crossed her arms and stared at Ethan. "What?

He looked back towards the others for a moment, then at her. "Your green witch is more powerful than she realizes. The ability to sense magic as easily as she apparently does is rare."

"Tara being powerful is why you dragged me over here?"

"Yes, it is. Because someone as powerful as she should be able to tell what's all over the redhead, her lover."

Buffy dropped her arms. "Willow? What are you talking about?"

"She's practicing dark magic. I had a small scrying spell running when you came in, and it permeates her aura. Black as anything I've ever touched, and more."

"You're lying."

"Something I rarely do, actually," he snapped, "and not over something I care as little about as you and your group. Anyone looking can tell what your Willow has been doing. If Miss Tara is not seeing it, something is interfering with her. I can make an educated guess as to what-or who."

She wanted to protest, but she couldn't quite bring herself to. "How do I know you're not just trying to make trouble, the way you always do?"

He tsked and shook his head. "Because I'm leaving, and hoping to have absolutely no knowledge of you and this place ever again. But as you will. It is of utterly no concern to me what you do to each other." He turned to leave, then paused. "If you'll hear it from an old enemy, though, watch her. She's playing with things that often play back."

He walked away. Buffy followed slowly. When the front doors closed behind him, she went up on tiptoes to look out through the windows. Ethan stood on the sidewalk, looking carefully in all directions, then headed to a fancy black sports car parked at the curb. He waved his hand over the doorhandle, opened the door, made another gesture, then got in. She saw him peer into the back seat before he turned on the engine.

She twitched when someone came up behind her, but it was only Xander, who easily peered over her head out the window. "So he's really just leaving?"

"It looks like. I'm surprised he didn't look under the thing as well, the way he was checking the car out."

"It's have to be a damned tiny demon to hide under a Testarossa."

"Itty bitty baby fear demon, maybe."

Xander laughed briefly as he watched the sports car drive away as sedately as something that shiny and European could. "And there goes him. I hope he makes it out."

Buffy turned to stare at him. "You're hoping for good things for Ethan Rayne?"

He shrugged. "He wants to leave and not bother us ever again. It's a worthy cause."

"True enough." She started to maneuver around him and spotted Willow and Tara near the main desk. Willow had her arm entwined with Tara's and pointing out something in the children's area, talking and gesturing while Tara watched with a fond smile. "Has Willow seemed OK to you?"

He turned to study her with a frown, and her stomach dropped. "Tara asked me the same thing a few days ago. What's wrong with Willow?"

"Tara said something? What?" He hesitated for several seconds, looking towards the two witches. "Xander. Secrets bad, remember?"

His hands twitched, and he shoved them in his pockets. "She sneaks out at night, when she thinks Tara's asleep."

"Oh, god . . . But they look happy." Xander shrugged unhappily. "Did Tara say anything else?"

"She didn't get a chance to, Cordy and the others showed up right then."

The day they'd brought Xander home from the hospital with fang marks. Which really hadn't been too well explained, now that Buffy thought about it.

Too many things going on when she was trying to figure out something else. She'd look in one direction, and a dozen things happen behind her back. She wasn't any closer to figuring out what to do about Giles, and those Aurelians were still hiding out up on Crawford Street.

"Why are you worried about Willow?" Xander asked.

She wasn't going to make accusations on the word of Ethan Rayne alone. But it did sound like she was going to have to talk to Tara pretty soon. "She's been distracted girl a lot, that's all. And she seemed awful antsy around Ethan."

Xander snorted. "Most rational creatures would be antsy around that guy. What screws aren't loose are definitely missing." He put an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him gratefully. "You want to go meet Miss Wiz?"

"Ooo, demon librarians, what fun." She shrugged. "Sure, add another one to the collection."

"She's nice, she smells like cookies."

"That she bakes in her oven in the back, out of bad little kids?"

"Don't you ever dare tell her I said that."