Chapter 44

"So, my dad was, like, the 007 of monster-hunters?" summarized Buffy.

Jethro Dumont, who had just spent the last hour explaining everything to her, nodded.

"You see, House Fortunae was created in 1936, through the consolidation of Houses Mercere and Luxor. And, as their membership consisted mostly of non-magical mortals, they eventually came to be seen as a free-lance affiliate of the Initiative. Especially, during the Cold War, when the Legacy had to refrain from directly interfering with their renegade East Berlinhaus!"

"That KGB/Terakan Treaty," she replied.

The Green Lama nodded, again.

"The only reason he never told you about his work is because he wanted you to have as normal a childhood as possible."

"Sort of the same reason Mom never told me that _her_ dad was a bona fide World War II superhero, I guess."

"Hey!" he exclaimed: "I was only called that in the comic book. And, the only reason I let the Pentagon talk me into lending my likeness to it was as a fund-raising morale booster for the war effort. If I'd known how the artists were going to depict me, I might still have refused! Have you _seen_ some of the on-line reproductions of their artwork? That costume makes me look like the love-child of Superman and Peter Pan. Ewwwwwwww!"

The Green Lama emphasized that last part with a visible shudder. Which made Buffy laugh.

"Thank you SO much for that imagery!"

"You are most welcome," he said with an exaggerated bow (glad that his tension-breaking ploy had worked).

It was at that moment that all further conversation was drowned out by the sound of a Bell JetRanger landing on the rooftop heli-pad of the Presidential Suite.

S.F. AIPORT HILTON

(8:32 A.M./PST)

MICK ST. JOHN'S P.O.V.

As soon as Nick Knight had landed his chopper, he took off his earphones and looked at the three of us (me, Angel, and Sonny Toussaint) sitting in the backseat.

"OK! This will merely be a reversal of the same procedure as when I picked you up. Oz opens the doors and we make a run for it, to the sliding glass doors on the veranda. You ready, Oz?"

Oz nodded. A minute later, we were standing in the living room of the Presidential Suite! Little wisps of gray coming from the collars of Angel's and Nick's long coats!

"Whoa!" exclaimed Xander: "I've heard of smoking jackets. But, this is ridiculous!"

"Cut it out, Xan," I chided: "We've got some serious stuff to discuss."

"You're not kidding," added Oz, as he finally came in behind us.

And, Willow, seeing him, cried out his name and ran straight into his arms. A more cynical person might say that all that was missing was slow motion and violin music! But, I'm more old-fashioned. The world might be a lot better place, today, if people were less bashful about kissing in public. Provided, of course, the kissing was done for not-just-carnal reasons.

When they were through kissing, Willow looked him straight in the eyes and smiled.

"It's good to see you again, Fuzzy Wolf."

"Yeah," said Oz (with a return smile): "You, too."

"Uh, pardon me for breaking this up," interjected Sonny: "But, don't we have some crucial low-down to dish out?"

"He's right," said Angel. "Where's Buffy? She'll need to hear this, too."

Xander, Willow, and Giles pointed to the master bedroom as one. And, out of it stepped Buffy, alongside a guy I used to read about in No-Prize Comics. A guy I couldn't help blurting out the name of, in shocked recognition.

"The Green Lama?"

It took all of us about ninety minutes to update each other as to what had happened in our mutual absences.

"So, let me see if I have this straight," I began (mostly for my own benefit): "The Dagon-sphere, which is the only thing that can disable this Glory, is also the only thing that can allow a small group of magic-users to cast those two spells as effectively as a whole big group of same. And, both items are now in the same place?!"

"It can't be helped," replied Jethro Dumont: "The house on Prescott sits atop what is basically a positive counterpart to the Sunnydale Hellmouth. And, its present owners are three of the most powerful members of the Verbenae in the last three hundred years! We need their help to incorporate the Key."

"What I don't understand," said Xander: "...is why Dracula, Drusilla, and Ethan Rayne want to get their hands on this stuff. What's their angle?"

"Self-interest, most likely," replied Angel: "Dracula's biggest ambition is to someday rule the entire Sabbat. And, then, the world. But, if Glory destroys the world, getting back to her own dimension...?"

He shrugged, the rest of his statement not needing to be uttered.

"What still puzzles me," confessed Giles: "...is the nature of your vision, Buffy. Ethan wants the exchange to transpire right at that residence. Yet, you foresaw it occurring atop Golden Gate Bridge!"

"Knowing Ethan," muttered Willow: "...he's probably got a double-cross already planned."

"If that's the case," declared Buffy: "...then I vote I go there, with Willow, to warn the owners of what's coming."

"I'll come with you," said the Green Lama: "Just in case they doubt your story."

"Good idea!" agreed Sonny: "And, I'll call my partner, Frank, to give you a police escort."

1329 PRESCOTT STREET

"So, let me get this straight," Prue Halliwell remarked: "...you belong to a sub-sect of this House Shaea called 'the Guardians.' And, you're the last of them."

Magga nodded: "That is correct."

In response to this, Prue's middle sister, Piper, asked the obvious: "Guardians of what, though? Or, should I say, 'whom?' "

"Of the Marked Ones. Perhaps better known to you as the Daughters of Sinea."

"I have heard whispers of them," Brother Demetrius affirmed: "It is said that they were tasked by Shaea, herself, to keep an eye on They Who Watch Over From the Shadows. In silent protest of how Sinea the First Slayer was first imbued with her powers!"

"In other words," paraphrased Phoebe (the youngest Halliwell): "...you watched the Watchers."

Magga nodded, again, adding: "We have also stored and guarded whatever the Marked Ones might need, most urgently. In this case, the augmentation and enjoining spells."

"Then, what are we waiting for?" exclaimed Phoebe: "Let's take these pages, and the Dagon-sphere, up to the attic and start chanting!"

"We must wait for the three who will be most vital to the casting," replied Magga.

"But, if time is of the essence," countered Leo Wyatt (the Charmed Ones' white-lighter): "...maybe I should save time, and orb those three here."

Prue nodded her approval, and Leo orbed away.

TEMPLE OF THE SEARING WIND,

CHINATOWN, SAN FRANCISCO

Through what some of her followers would call a small miracle, Glordelia grudgingly managed the patience necessary to hear out the erstwhile Dr. Death.

"So, the spirits you commune with told you that these Charmed Ones have possession of my own personal kryptonite. And, you've done nothing about it?!"

"The Charmed Ones are no ordinary witches, Glorificus. For my acolytes to invade their domicile would be tantamount to non-productive suicide!"

Glordelia pointed to the palm of her right hand.

"Speak into here, Doc. Because my ears are tired of excuses!"

She then turned to the Ropen.

"Baby? Why don't you snake your way over to Prescott Street and smash the Dagon-sphere, okay? And, if these Charmed Ones try to interfere? Feel free to treat 'em like mice!"

The Ropen nodded, and slithered off. Whereupon, "Doc" meaningfully cleared his throat.

"If you have something else to add," warned Glordelia: "...it had better be _good_ news."

"Well, it's like this, Your Glory," replied the high priest: "On the off-chance, however unlikely, that the Ropen is vanquished? I would respectfully advise taking out some insurance."

"Define 'insurance.' "

"Next to you, the Slayer is the only other being on this planet with the power to best the Charmed Ones. So, why not take one of her friends hostage, and force _her_ to smash the Dagon-sphere, on your behalf, to insure that friend's safe return?"

Glordelia pondered this suggestion for a few moments. Then, she grinned.

"Not bad! Any of your spirit friends happen to know where they're staying?"

"Doc" nodded. "The Presidential Suite of the San Francisco Airport Hilton."

"Then, I guess it's time for a little class reunion!"

At which point, she teleported away.

tbc

For the purposes of this story, I imagine the Ropen as an amalgam of the Spawn of Sobek (from "Shadow" a.k.a. BTVS Episode 5.8) with the CGI dragon from the ANGEL series finale. While Sifu Yu Nohu is an amalgam of "Doc" (from "Forever" a.k.a. BTVS Episode 5.17) with the Korean sensei Chiun as played by Joel Grey in the campy martial arts flick REMO WILLIAMS (based on the "Destroyer" novels by Warren Murray and Richard Sapir).