The next few minutes were, to put it mildly, rather busy. As McGee cringed away from the explosion of broken glass he caught sight of Cordelia ducking behind her desk and Faith reaching down to her boot, whilst Wesley flung himself backwards. As he risked a quick glance at the newcomers his breath caught in his throat. The one nearest him had snapped its head around to look at him and he swallowed nervously at the cold dark red eyes that were almost all he could see of its face. The figure blinked once, visibly dismissed him as a threat and then raised its sword as it turned towards Faith – and then it suddenly sprouted a dagger in the middle of its forehead.

As it started to collapse McGee tugged desperately at his sidearm, but he had barely gotten it free of his holster when there was a flash of movement and suddenly Faith was on the attackers. She didn't move really, she flowed, like a predator unleashed. She kicked the middle one in the face, sending it flying backwards, pivoted around off the angular momentum she was carrying and then somehow got inside the next demons guard and punched it on the chest, hard.

The demon made a choking sound and staggered back, dropping one of the swords it was carrying. This turned out to be a fatal mistake, because Faith somehow grabbed it in mid-air with her left hand, transferred it to her right and then hacked the demon's head off its shoulders with one clean swipe.

McGee gaped. He had no idea how she'd been able to achieve any of that and he backpedalled rapidly from the fight to give her more room whilst he also brought his automatic up just in case.

He didn't need it. The remaining demon came at Faith with a battlecry of some sort, whilst twirling its own sword in some kind of complex pattern around its body. Faith came to meet it with no similar twirls, just a grim intensity. The swords clashed once, twice, and then she kicked the creature firmly between the legs and then chopped its sword hand off as it froze in place and shrieked in a shrill falsetto. Its head swiftly followed.

McGee looked around wildly. His heart was pounding fit to burst and his brain was still processing the extraordinary events that his eyeballs had reported. "Ok," he said eventually, "What the hell was that?"

"That," said Wesley grimly as he bent over the first demon and pulled the dagger out of its forehead with a horrible crunching noise, "Was Wolfram & Hart getting impatient. They'll send more when they realise that these idiots failed."

"Ah," said a new voice from the doorway and McGee looked over to see a thin-faced dark-haired man. He looked familiar – he was the man from the promotional video. "I see that we've had some company. Have some new company as well." He sounded wary and very Irish.

"Doyle, this is Special Agent Timothy McGee from NCIS. And yes, his ID is genuine," Wesley said as he wiped the dagger on a handkerchief and then handed it over to Faith, who grinned and stuck it in her boot. "Hopefully someone in his office will be able to recommend a reliable and discreet contact at the US Marshals office here in LA."

"Pleased to meet you," Doyle said and then he squinted at the bodies. "T'Larg?"

"Yes," Wesley replied, which meant that he must have understood the question. "Interesting choice."

"They'll be sending heavier hitters after this lot failed. Angel's downstairs with that whining little bastard, making sure that he doesn't bolt for the nearest exit." Doyle sighed. Then he looked up. "I have some good news. I put in a call to Xander."

Everyone seemed to perk up at this statement. "Is he in LA?" Faith asked.

"He's not but Oz is. Apparently he's picking up some new speakers again. He'll be here as soon as he can."

"Good," muttered Wesley. "The more help the merrier. I shudder to think who's watching the office at the moment and what they're armed with." He looked around at the damage. "Well, there's not much point in locking the front door now, is there?"

McGee shook his head. "Not really." He was about to ask how this Oz guy could help out against possible snipers outside when his phone went off. "McGee."

"McGee, it's Callen. Look, I've just gotten off the phone with the US Marshals office. The most trustworthy person I know there is Rachel Stark. She's a straight shooter – very good indeed. Apparently she was getting alarmed already – LAPD just called to say that they'd found the real US Marshal who was supposed to pick up the witness unconscious in his car a half-block from their offices. Anyway, she's putting in a few calls to find out where the leak is at her end. She's also getting ready to stomp on anyone who tries to stop the witness from getting to court. Sounds like she has access to a tank or something. I'll call once we're close."

"You're coming with her?"

"Like I said, it sounds like she's got access to something heavy. Could be fun. Probable ETA twenty minutes. Hang tight."

McGee stared down at the phone. "I worry about that guy sometimes." Then he looked up. US Marshal Rachel Stark is on the way to pick up the witness in something pretty heavy duty. Special Agent Callen is joining her. He said that is sounds like 'fun'."

"How long before they get here?" Wesley asked as he peered carefully out of the window with a mirror on the end of an extendable stick that he'd pulled out from somewhere.

"Twenty minutes."

"That may not be enough time. I see something going on at the end of the road. There's a truck of some sort. It's backing up a bit… and they're opening the back. Oh. Ah. Does everyone have a weapon on them?"

McGee opened his mouth for a long moment and then closed it again. "Why?"

"Because there's a demon coming down the road towards us," Wesley said in a grim and distant voice as he collapsed his stick and then stepped back rather hurriedly from the doorway.. "Quite a large one. A Korslarg unless I miss my guess."

"Ah crap," Doyle muttered as he vanished into a back room. McGee heard the sound of a door being opened and then metallic scraping noises. When Doyle returned he was holding a battleaxe and two swords. One of the latter he threw to Faith, who wielded it with a slightly worrying manic grin. The other went to Wesley, who took it with a grim intensity that was just as worrying.

"Um," McGee broke in, "What's a Korslag?"

He was answered by a rending noise as something tall and horrible walked through the front door, destroying it in the process. At the time McGee estimated that it was about 15 feet tall and had the same mass as Iowa. Later in the calm light of day he worked out that it was instead 7 feet tall and weighed about 300lbs. However, the armoured carapace, the large pointed teeth and the claws were identical in both cases. And it was looking straight at him. He went for his sidearm at once, cursing the impulse that had made him holster it earlier. Unfortunately the demon was faster. It backhanded him with an almost lazy swipe of one hand.

Later he worked out that he'd been lucky. If it had swiped him with the other hand he would have been gutted like a fish. That said, being knocked into the desk by a giant behemoth hurt. A lot. He was lucky that the desk wasn't very expensive and therefore cushioned his impact slightly, meaning that he didn't break anything, other than his pride that is.

As he lay there in the wreckage of the desk he stared at the ceiling and wondered dazedly what the hell had happened. Then he heard the sound of ringing noises and shouts, which made him snap back into the here and now quite fast.

When he raised his head over the shattered desk he could see that Wesley, Doyle and Faith were all attacking the demon, which was making noises that combined excitement at being in a fight with slight pain when one of tyhem landed a blow. And that was the problem. As McGee watched Faith delivered an overhead blow to the demon's shoulder that should have cleaved it in twain, and McGee paused for a moment to thank his brain for still being able to process words like 'twain'. Unfortunately her sword met an unmovable object in the demon's armour and the blade simply struck sparks off it.

I have to help, McGee thought desperately, I need my gun. But where the hell was it? He looked around frantically. Ah, there it was! Um, next to the demon's right foot. Damn. He looked around. Nope, nothing else anywhere nearby. There was a sword on the floor on the other side of the demon, but it was his gun that he was focussed on. He had to get it, he just had to. Faith had just been backhanded into the nearest wall, but had somehow bounced off it and was back in the fight and both Wesley and Doyle were showing signs of being wounded.

McGee kicked himself free of the wooden fragments of desk and then rolled over. His gun was just three feet away, but it might as well have been three miles. He looked up quickly to make sure that the demon hadn't noticed him and then his arm came out and he stretched out for the gun. A foot away. Damn it, he needed it! He lunged for it again. Eight inches away.

The events of the next few seconds were very crowded ones. Firstly the demon somehow heard the sound of his hand slapping against the linoleum on the floor and turned to look at him, before raising a hand in what McGee knew was going to be an attempt to turn his head into bloodied goo. Secondly McGee felt his hand sting slightly as his gun somehow entered his grip. He desperately tried to thumb the safety and then raise it to bring it to bear on the demon, but he was then interrupted by the third event. There was a peculiarly familiar noise and then a green shard of light, moving at an incredible speed, sliced through the demon's neck.

There was a frozen moment of total silence and then the demon's head toppled off its shoulders, hitting the floor a moment before the rest of it.

"Heh," Faith said, wiping blood off her nose. "Hey Oz. Good timing."

McGee raised his head and stared at the newcomer. He was short, in his very early 20's, with copper coloured hair. Oh and he was holding a green lightsabre. Plus he was looking at McGee with a very odd expression. "Hi."

"Hi," McGee replied, slightly dazedly as he stared at the lightsabre. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end.

The lightsabre snapped off and then Oz leant down and offered his arm to McGee, who used it to pull himself shakily off the ground. "I see that the Force is with you."

McGee gaped at him. "I'm sorry?"

"Oz, this is Special Agent Timothy McGee, from NCIS. He was helping us." Wesley stared at McGee with upraised eyebrows. "Did you say that the Force was with him?"

"Yup," Oz said quietly. "Interesting."

McGee thought everything through and then came to the obvious conclusion: "Am I concussed?"