I'm beginning to wonder if we should have an official name. Our little group, I mean. I've thought that since we meet in the library very frequently we should be called the Library Council, or Council of the Library, or something like that.

Councilium autem Bibliothece?

That makes us sound like a group of scribes, but…only two of really know Latin. Well, two and a half, if you count Willow but her grammar needs some work.

Anyway, suffice it to say our little clan met in the library once again.

Giles and I had pulled out every book we knew on dark magic and ritual magic, even the voodoo books. I doubted the Master would be a zombie if they brought him back, but we were taking no chances after this last mishap.

When the rest of the children arrived, later that evening Giles all but threw books at the lot of them (the ones in English at least) and ordered them to get reading.

For the next two and a half hours the only sounds to be heard were the creaking of chairs, the flip of pages, sighs, and the occasional grunt of frustration. Not to mention there were yawns. Mostly from Xander.

I was struggling through my sixth volume of ritualistic magic in the fifteenth century, and I think the author must have gotten drunk at some point because out of nowhere there was a romantic poem about a lost love that really came out of nowhere.

Fortunately, Giles found something more substantial.

"Here," he said, coming down the stairs to us, "it's in Latin, so bear with me: To revive the vampire they need his bones-" he glanced up apologetically at Buffy, "wh-which they have, and the blood-" he trailed off and his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Margery," he said, waving the book at me, "see if this is right, it doesn't seem to make much sense."

I came down off my perch on the bannister and took the old volume from him and looked at the portion he'd indicated. The noun they'd used was a very vague one, so I could see the source of the confusion, it seemed out of place with the rest of the passage.

"Literally translated it doesn't make sense," I acknowledged, "so I think it's more of a case of translator's choice with what it's meant to say. If I had to guess, I'd think it meant they need the blood of whoever last had a connection to the Master."

I looked up at Giles.

"The Anointed One?" I asked, "If no one killed him he's still out there somewhere. Do they need his blood?"

"It'd be me." Buffy broke in. Giles frowned at her.

"Possibly." He said uncertainly.

"We were close," Buffy insisted, "we killed each other. It really promotes togetherness."

Xander closed his book and moved towards us.

"Well is there any clue as to when the ceremony will-" suddenly the glass in the window above his head shattered as an object was hurtled through it. I lunged for him over the bannister and grabbed his sleeve in time to yank him out from under the shower of glass.

Buffy caught what was thrown: a large stone with a note attached to it, by a bracelet.

Buffy tilted her head as she looked at it, and I came closer, sniffing gingerly.

"That's Cordelia's." Buffy and I said at the same time.

Buffy glanced at me briefly, then yanked off the note and read it aloud.

"Come to the Bronze before it opens, or we make her a meal."

It dawned on me then that I hadn't seen Cordelia all day. In fact I hadn't seen her after I'd left her at the Bronze last night.

Had the vampires had her all this time?

A knot of dread settled itself in the center of my chest and I crossed my arms.

"They're gonna cook her dinner?" Xander asked.

Stifling a groan, I turned slowly to stare at him along with everyone else.

"Aw, pretend I didn't say that." He murmured.

"Gladly." I replied.

"So what're we going to do?" Willow asked.

Buffy then sighed, as if bored, and jumped off the table she'd been sitting on.

"I got to the Bronze, save the day." She answered.

"I don't like this." Xander said.

"Nor I." Giles agreed.

"Yeah, well, you guys aren't going," she snapped, turning back to us.

I frowned and stepped towards her.

"We're not?" I repeated.

"I can't do it anymore," she continued, "I can't look after the four of you guys while I'm fighting." I frowned and took another step towards her.

"I can hold my own," I reminded her, "I can help."

Before she could answer, Willow interrupted.

"What about the rest of the note?" she asked. Buffy looked confused.

"What rest of the note?"

"The part that says 'P.S. this is a trap'."

"You'd be playing straight into their hands." Giles murmured.

Buffy's eyes flashed with anger.

"I can handle this." She growled.

"Stop saying that!" Willow snapped, moving towards her, "God, what's wrong with you?"

"Cordelia may be dead." Xander pointed out.

"Or worse." I added.

"This is my fight." Buffy said, in a tone that made it clear there was no room for argument.

So I didn't argue, when she started to march away, I nodded to Giles, and followed her. I was not about to let her get overwhelmed by a bunch of vampires who used children as bait. And they would be twice as dangerous if they were disciples of the Master.

"Go back, Marge." She said over her shoulder when she noticed I was following.

"No."

She stopped and spun around, eyes flashing, and started to say something else but I cut her off.

"No." I repeated, quietly, but with force. "I'm not going back. I can be of no use to you back there, and you're not thinking clearly, so obviously you'll need assistance."

"Not thinking clearly?" she repeated with a mirthless laugh.

"Yes. You're charging ahead into what is almost certainly a trap and not even pausing to assume this might be a bad idea."

"Because I can handle it!" she practically shouted.

"You don't know that for certain!" I shouted back, "You are a formidable fighter, the best I've ever seen, but you're not thinking this through. The Buffy I used to know would consider the risks and proceed with caution. You're so anxious to prove to yourself that you can handle anything that you're taking needless risks. I know it can't be easy, feeling you must protect the children whilst you're fighting, and that's fair, but don't turn away help when it's needed."

"It's not-"

"And if you say 'it's not needed' I'm going to slap you." I interrupted her. She blinked in surprise, started to retort, then thought better of it and gave an exasperated sigh.

"I'm not bringing them along." She said finally.

"Then I'm coming with you," I said, "and don't you dare try and argue with me, young lady. I've had enough of your attitude."

Buffy frowned, but smirked at the same time, which was a feat I'd though impossible.

"Fine, mom." She said sarcastically. "But don't expect me to look out for you if things get dirty."

"Agreed." I answered. Her words would have stung me at any other time, but I was too relieved she'd let me come with her to worry about it.