Chapter 47.

By Carycomic

GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE,

SAN FRANCISCO, CA.

Glordelia lay on her left side. Her left arm propping her up, as if she were modeling for some poor man's painting of Cleopatra.

"Isn't this a lovely view, Zeppo?" she rhetorically asked (with an exaggerated sigh of pleasure).

Xander (who was still mummy-wrapped in her black cloak) could only wriggle helpelessly, by her side, and utter muffled protests that sounded like "mfph." This, in turn, made her sight with mock-regret.

"Time's up! Looks like you'll have to sleep with the fishes."

Whereupon, she stood back up on her feet. Only kneeling long enough to pick Xander up, and horizontally hold him over head!

It was at that exact moment that Buffy and Angel orbed in.

"Well, well, well!" chanted Glordelia: "You two sure took your sweet time getting her. Where's the Dagon-sphere?"

"Right here," replied Buffy, unclenching her right hand to show the sphere resting in her palm.

Glordelia grinned with triumph.

"Good girl, Slayer! Now, toss it over the side and into the bay. Then, you and your broody stud can go home and nurse that nose cold it sounds like you've got coming."

"Not until you hand over, Xander!" Angel defiantly shouted: "That was the deal. Remember?"

"I changed my mind," Glordelia retorted: "I'm going to keep this obnoxious little cutie with me. As insurance you don't come after me, when I resume my search for the Key."

"Unacceptable," said Buffy (before adding): "Xander!"

Before the self-style goddess could utter one suitable profanity, her hostage suddenly vanished in a cloud of white lights. White lights that subsequently rematerialized in Angel's outstretched arms! At that same moment, Buffy turned her right hand right side-up. Following which, a blast of blindingly white light radiated outward from the Dagon-sphere. Completely blinding and engulfing Glordelia. . .

. . .before knocking her off the top of pylon towards the water of the bay, below.

SAN FRANCISCO HOUSE

(ANGEL ISLAND)

Precept Derek Rayne was the first to recognize the trill shrieking that startled everyone.

"It's the safe in my office. Hurry!"

The rest of his team did not need to be told twice. Indeed, security chief Nick Boyle was already second-in-line! With his nine millimeter Colt Lightweight Commander already in hand. But, when they barged through the office door, the quartet was met by the same shocking sight.

The safe door was wide open. . .with twelve year-old Katherine Corrigan kneeling before it.

"Kat?!" exclaimed her mother, Rachel: "What are you doing?"

"Just following Dad's instructions, Mom."

"And, what did he instruct you to do, sweetheart?" asked Derek.

He already half-knew the answer, seeing as how Kat was already holding "Queen Bess' Lucky Charm" in the palm of her left hand. He also knew that the girl must have been duped by some supernatural entity posing as her father. Seeing as how Patrick Corrigan had died in a car crash (along with his and Rachel's only son), four-and-a-half years earlier!

In both instances, he proved correct.

"Hello, Derek."

Rachel gasped as the spitting image of her late husband appeared right behind Kat. Gently laying his left hand on her right shoulder. And, the Precept's eyebrows instinctively arched in shock.

"Ethan?!"

"Ah! I see that old sixth sense of yours is as sharp as ever. Sorry for the morbid impersonation, Dr. Corrigan. But, I have need of this little trinket. . .which, of course, only the pure-in-heart may touch. And, when I found out the one in the museum (named for Dear Old Daddy) was a skillfully crafted fake, I knew there was only other place my dear brother could have hidden it. Sure enough; I was right!"

"Congratulations!" snapped Nick (with venomous sarcasm): "Now, be just as brilliant and tell Kat to put it back in the safe."

He aimed his semi-automatic handgun at the glamour-disguised chaos worshipper's forehead for emphasis.

"Nick, no!" exclaimed Alexandra Moreau: "You might hit Kat."

"Quite right, mon cherie," chortled Ethan: "Don't worry, though. I only have to borrow both for a _little_ while."

And, with that, he teleported away via the Umbra.

The first thing Angel did, when he and Buffy rematerialized, was to tear away the black electrician's tape from the cloak. Then, he lifted the cloak off of Xander (like a stage magician revealing a previously absent rabbit) before throwing it on to the sand behind them.

Xander fell to his on that sand. Breathing in fresh air, gasp after gasp, like a swimmer who had stayed underwater nearly ten seconds too long.

"W-W-Where. . .are. . .we?" he finally managed to wheeze.

"Nipomo Dunes State Park," replied Buffy (still sounding like an electronically garbled choir): "Where Cecil B. DeMille filmed the original, silent movie version of THE TEN COMMANDMENTS. Behold!"

Once more gesturing like Prue Halliwell, Buffy telekinetically raised a pyramid out of the sand! Albeit, a pyramid made out of stucco-painted balsa wood that the sand had carefully kept preserved.

"Follow me," she ordered: "Inside; quickly!"

No sooner had Angel and Xander complied than Glordelia reappeared.

PRESIDENTIAL SUITE,

S.F. AIRPORT HILTON
(MICK ST. JOHN'S P.O.V.)

As none of us wanted to just stand around, helplessly twiddling our thumbs, Oz, Giles, Sonny, and I began to discuss how we might be able to help resolve this crisis in our own small-but-collective way. Then, suddenly, Oz's head angled up towards the ceiling. Following which, he sniffed the air a couple times.

"It's Ethan!" he shouted.

We did not need anymore explanation than that. The rest of us followed him into the master bedroom. And, there, we skidded to a stop. Because, that chaos-worshipping s.o.b. had a twelve year-old girl with him! One who was innocently playing with Amy the Rat on the big bed.

"Hello, Ripper. Glad to see me, again?"