Chapter three. Yay. I am so exhausted from Thanksgiving, so this is the only chapter I'll be doing tonight. Hope its good!

As always, R&R, and I own nothing.

Giles' car pulled into the parking lot outside the diner just before eight. He and John went inside where they were seated at a corner booth at the back wall. After ordering, the waitress brought their drinks and left them to their discussion.

"John, we need your help. I understand your reasons for leaving the Council, I really do. But you must come back, for god's sake man. This town is centred over the Hellmouth! Our Slayer is dead, and from what I've translated so far, there's an apocalypse coming. We need all the help we can get." Giles removed his glasses again, speaking softly so not to call attention to what he was telling his old friend. John sighed, and sat back as he sipped his drink, thinking over what he was being asked. He'd left the Council years ago, just before being called for duty in Afghanistan. It was a hard choice to leave the job he'd been raised to do, but it was a choice he knew he'd have to make. The Council had long been on a downward spiral, and the line between good and evil was becoming far too blurred for his liking. They had accepted his resignation quite gracefully, and he swore he'd never speak of nor return to his duties so long as he lived. He leaned forward, his elbows on the edge of the table and looked Giles in the eyes.

"I can't, Rupert. You know how I feel about it."

"Yes, you can, John. You must. Things have gotten worse and we need you, don't you see?"

"I.. Let me think on it." John sat back just as their meal arrived. He knew he'd end up saying yes. It was an impending apocalyse and the Hellmouth was without a Slayer. The world was depending on his decision, and he could see it in Giles' face. Fear, frustration and hurt flashed in the Watcher's eyes, and John knew he'd have to help. He couldn't let his dear colleague face this alone. As they ate, he thought it over and told himself they'd talk more on the way back to the house.

"Ready, mate?" Spike called up the stairs. It was just past eight and Sherlock still hadn't come down. He'd insisted on a shower before going out to the Bronze, so Spike waited as patiently as he could. But he'd run out of patience about five minutes after Sherlock went upstairs, and so began pacing at the bottom of the steps, bellowing for him to hurry up. Sherlock emerged at the stop of the steps, freshly bathed and wearing a clean suit. "What are you, James Bond? You don't have to get all gussied up for me, you know." Spike joked as they left the house, letting a note behind for John. As they walked through town and towards the Bronze, a dark-haired, scantily clad female vampire approached. Spike stopped and turned his head her way, glaring at her so to let her know that his companion was not going to be anyone's meal. She backed off slowly, her hands up in surrender, and they two continued on their way.

"Tell me about the girl. Dawn. Xander hushed her when she was talking in the car, and I know there's something going on here. She's what, fourteen or fifteen, and yet she hangs around with the likes of you. She's wise beyond her years, but plays dumb to set the others at ease, and I know she's got a load of suppressed anger and hurt that she only tells you about. That's why you're so close, she confides in you when the others haven't any interest in listening. What else?" Sherlock glanced over at Spike with a knowing look.

"There's a lot no one told you. Here we are. Let's go get a drink first. I'm parched." Spike showed him into the Bronze, and Spike took off to the bar to get their drinks while Sherlock sat at the table, observing the scene around him. Teens and young adults dancing, young men playing pool and couples making out in the dark corners. Spike returned with their drinks, and sat across from him. "There. Now, let's talk." Spike began explaining that he'd overheard Giles and Willow discussion about John before he'd called, how the doctor was a member of the Watcher's council before the war. He told Sherlock about the Slayer, and vampires, and the Hellmouth. Once he'd explained the coming apocalypse, and that without John's help they'd be fighting a losing battle for sure, Sherlock leaned back and stared at him. Sherlock sat silently, allowing all of the information he'd been given absorb a little, before speaking.

"You're a vampire. Giles is a Watcher, the red head is a Witch along with her girlfriend, Anya is an ex-demon and the Slayer is dead. And Xander? Dawn?"

"Well, nancy-boy is human and he's just.. well, he doesn't do much but scream like a girl and faint. And Dawn, she's something... amazing. There's this energy. The Key. Its older than the earth and some Monks created her from it, to keep Glory's filthy mitts off it. That's how Buffy died. Saving Dawn and the world from Glory." Spike lit a cigarette and offered one to Sherlock who gladly took it. They sat silent for a moment, then Sherlock began laughing. "What? What's so funny, huh? Think I'm making this up? Then explain my face, why don't ya?" Spike glared at him, causing Sherlock to calm down and become rather serious again.

"I believe you. I do. I just can't see John knowing a damn thing about any of this. Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I heard the two talking! I'm sure as can be." Spike sat back, crossing his arms in defence. Sherlock pulled his mobile from his pocket, and began tapping away at the keys.

John

Watcher? Key? Vampires?

S.H

He put his phone on the table, knowing he'd get a response shortly. John was so reliable like that, and soon enough the phone buzzed.

Yes. Who told you? Where

are you?

J.W

Sherlock started typing out his reply when he felt someone staring over his shoulder. He looked back and found Spike peeking at the screen in his hands. "Can I help you?" He muttered to Spike. Spike returned to his seat and went back to his drink.

Spike. Told me everything.

Come to the Bronze at once.

Must speak to you.

S.H

He returned the phone to the table, and when there was no reply to his message, he knew John was on his way. He sipped his drink, watching the band on the stage set up to perform. After a bit, he heard footsteps approaching, and from the slight difference in pace between each step, he knew they belonged to John. He stood, greeting John and pulling a chair over for him. Once seated, he turned to John and told him everything Spike had said. Spike sat silently, nodding to confirm what the detective was saying and occasionally correcting him. The three fell silent, then John ran his fingers through his hair as he started filling in the blanks.

"Rupert and I met nearly fifteen years ago. We were both new to the Watcher's Council, and had become good friends before he left England to come here. We've kept contact, even though I quit the Council just before the war. He needs me to help with some things here, and I think you could be a help too, Sherlock. You know so many martial arts, we believe you could be a great asset to the fight they're preparing for." John leaned back in his seat, waiting for Sherlock to protest being involved in such 'non-sense'.

"When do we start?" Sherlock said, smiling at the thought of a good battle to brighten his holiday. His words didn't surprise John in the least, but weren't fully expected. John searched for a reply, but was saved by Spike who spoke up first.

"Patrol. You can join me for patrol tonight."

"That makes no sense. Why would you be out patrolling if you're a vampire?" Sherlock was mildly confused but intrigued by the idea of a vampire killing his own kind.

"Because I'm not like them. I'm.. " Spike tried to explain but was cut off by John.

"He's neutered, in a sense. Won't kill humans and can't even hurt them without the chip in his head firing off. Gets off on hunting vamps now. All he can do really." John snickered.

"Piss off, doc. I'm still the big bad.. I fought this one, didn't I? So much for that bloody chip. Well, Sherlock? Coming along?" Spike stood and motioned for him to follow.

"Wait! How do I get back to the house?" John called. His phone beeped and he saw he had another text from Sherlock.

Call Giles.

See you later.

S.H

"Very nice, Sherlock. Just take off with the bastard and let me here.. Like always." John muttered as he called Giles' number and asked for a ride.