Part 9a, Friends Well Met

Those of Glory's minions thinking dangerous heretical thoughts numbered nearly a dozen. As ordered by Glory, they and their brethren were on teams whose sole task was to keep a close watch on each of the slayer's own minions. Despite the general self-absorbed nature of Glory and the loyalists who followed her without question, cunning subterfuge was still required to ensure at least one rebel was on each of the teams. One team was in fact composed entirely of rebels.

Three of the original four inner circle, plus another recent conspirator, were speaking very quietly prior to trailing their assigned human. Though certain of each other, and well away from Glory's penthouse suite, they still conversed in hushed whispers in case any loyalists might be roaming about on some asinine task of Glory's. It also didn't matter to them which of the humans they were following, they all looked the same. Even the slayer herself could be difficult to distinguish from the others, only having a discernible aura and smell about her.

"Now we should leave, or soon, to a place far away," insisted Brakku. "Gather our families and go. Now, while Glorificus is distracted by this unproductive activity following the slayer's worshipers." Brakku, a comrade of Glrk and also of the now deceased Gronk, was one of the newer members of the rebels. Brakku had been aware her friends were involved in some activity opposed to Glory. She herself had long been disillusioned with Glory but nevertheless wouldn't commit to any form of opposition. She had come off the fence, convinced of the rightness of her friend's cause, after seeing how casually Glory destroyed Gronk's mind. Much like Gronk had been, Brakku was also very anxious.

Glrk, the oldest and possibly the wisest of the group, countered her argument. "That would be far too dangerous. Glory's eyes and ears are everywhere. Even this meeting, here, now, just us four all assigned to the one human, is only by good care and fortuitous circumstances. If we were to depart so soon the loyalists would know as soon as we left and why. Glory would find and destroy us all. For myself I do not care overly much, but for my mate and offspring I will not risk them." Glrk nodded at the third of their team. "I believe Dreg's original thought, that we hold back from the portal, remaining behind when Glory goes through, is the best and safest path. At that moment Glory will not have the time to hunt us down nor even care enough to make sure all come along. She will be too busy and happy to care. The loyalists will be too occupied helping her or trying to get through themselves. What few may be left behind might even be willing to join us when they realize they were abandoned. At the very least we can escape them easily." Normally quiet and reserved, but always observing and thinking, it was Glrk's longest exposition on the matter.

Scab bowed his head. "Amazing the loyalists don't realize they will likely be destroyed or abandoned by their god." Scab was perhaps the most independent thinker of the group, and generally the most vociferous. He refused to even think of Glory as a god, as his reason for existence. He still carefully maintained his outward obeisance to her for his own safety and that of his family and compatriots. Though his belief was of true rebellion, in his hearts he did not feel like a rebel but that of a being of independence and self-worth.

"I don't disagree, but yet there is great danger," responded Brakku, nervous and impatient, always looking about. "The longer we wait the more possible we are found out. Or we may miss our opportunity if she merely eliminates all of us in her normal proclivity. I worry."

Glrk noticed a certain reticence and doubt in the until now quiet Dreg, the very first of them to consider resisting, the one who first conceived of any form of opposition to Glory's plans and goals. "What is it, Dreg?"

Dreg didn't answer right away, still deep in thought before looking up at the others. "We may be successful in our efforts to remain here in this dimension, on this Earth. I need to believe this will be so or there is no hope. Now I wonder of the slayer and the other humans. If indeed we are successful how will they react? Will we have exchanged one form of misery and danger for another?"

Scab snorted. "Do not worry about the humans! Those Knights of Byzantium are nothing but a fly-speck. If that is the best humans can do then we can defeat them easily if we can't hide or avoid them."

"You are too confident, brother Scab," responded Dreg. Glrk nodded his agreement. "The Brotherhood of Dagon were always a thorn until Glory finally destroyed them. Also, I have studied the slayer and the slayer's followers quite carefully. They are far more resilient and resourceful, far more intelligent than the Knights. I have heard stories of their adaptability in the face of dangers and foes they have never known before. No, they are much more dangerous than those foolish Knights. Much more!"

Glrk contributed his own knowledge. "Before many of them left this location, this 'Hellmouth', I conversed with several of the demon inhabitants who had resided here. They convinced me it is best to avoid the slayer. The slayer may not be as strong as Glory, but it fights well, is much more intelligent and therefore more powerful."

"The slayer is of the human sub-group female, called 'women'. We should refer to her as 'she' or 'her'." After the deceased Jinx, Dreg had the most direct interaction with Ben and other humans and was aware of the some of the important sub-groups and their distinctive characteristics. "If we eventually want to live among them we should learn better how to speak of them."

Glrk nodded his acceptance of Dreg's words and continued appropriately, still addressing Scab's over-confidence. "And her own worshipers are quite skilled as well. If we don't avoid her, or make no accommodation, will we have our success only to be destroyed by the humans?"

Now perhaps even more anxious, Brakku commented, "Surely we cannot hide from them forever, not without Glory's protection. Will they let us stay? Will they fight us? Will they wish to destroy us and our families for what we have done on Glory's behalf?"

"You concerns have merit," agreed Glrk. "We must think on this. We must have an answer to present to the others before we continue. It won't matter if we save ourselves a death by Glory only to have a death by humans." They all nodded, distressed. Even Scab was now convinced.

Dreg snorted, chuckling in the gravelly manner of his kind.

"Dreg, what do you find so humorous?" asked Scab.

"I now understand a phrase the humans use when faced with great difficulty no matter what choice is selected: Damned if you do, damned if you don't. I don't have the meaning of 'damned', but the sense of the thought now becomes clear to me."

The others thought on it and nodded with grim smiles. "Ah, yes, I do see now," said Glrk. "Sometimes these humans express themselves most eloquently."

Scab suddenly remembered something, something that might indeed help them. "The demon, Clem, we know well from our dealings when we first arrived. Perhaps he could help us understand how not to be damned."

"My pardon, but how can Clem help us?" asked Brakku.

"As you know," responded Scab, "he operates the establishment providing the objects, the 'furniture' we use to fill our spaces, to sit on and lay on and eat on, or set down or contain our possessions, even just to look at."

"How does that possibly help?" asked Dreg, genuinely curious and hopeful as well.

"Do you recall the drinking and fighting place when we tried to recruit allies from among the resident demons?"

Dreg nodded. "Ah, yes, I do recall. As noted, they refused." Dreg looked up, remembering and thinking on that time and events since then. "Perhaps they were more wise, sooner than us. Go on."

"I was returning from there through the narrow passages behind the buildings. On that day I saw Clem transact with a pair of the humans. A 'couple' I believe they're called, one with short fur on top and some on its body, the other with longer fur and round protrusions elsewhere on its body." He nodded toward Dreg. "A man and a women?" Dreg confirmed his agreement with a nod and Scab continued. "Those two are among the slayer's servants or worshipers. I stayed hidden and observed. Afterwards I noted that Clem was not harmed in any way. Indeed, he seemed most pleased by his interaction with those humans. I believe he gets on quite peacefully with humans and has blended into both the worlds of humans and demons. How is it that he seems happy and comfortable? How is it he does not suffer the slayer's attention and ire? I believe we should consult with him to help find our own way, to do as he does, to live our lives without fear as he does."

Dreg considered. "I agree. We must talk to this Clem. But we must be very careful. Let's think upon it and talk again in the morning." He looked around at Brakku and Glrk, who also agreed.

–––

Around noon, when the shop was closed for lunch, Willow raced in exuberantly, the door banging hard against its stops before settling into place. She breathlessly skipped down the stairs, skidding to a stop in front of Giles by the cash register as he set down his tea. "I think I've found something!" She waved a piece of paper. "Something really important!"

"What have you got there, Willow?" Giles tried fending off Willow's irritating way of waving the note right in front of his eyes. "And please stop that."

"I found this on the internet." Willow waved the paper printout in his eyes one more time before slapping the offending page down on the counter. "It's from an ancient song. I think it describes what's going on, what has to happen, when a portal can be opened. Perhaps the kind of portal Glory could use. This will surely help us!" Willow fairly bounced out of her shoes with excitement.

Interested, hopeful, Giles turned the paper around. "Well let's see what we've got then." He took off his glasses to carefully polish them before settling them back on his nose, sniffed and began reading through Willow's notes. "Hmmm." He frowned before glancing up at her over the rims. "Ah, hmmm?" He read some more and his frown deepened. "Are you in any way actually serious?" He tapped the paper with his finger. "Ancient? Really?"

"Ancient? Well duh," huffed Willow, "And a song fits in with ancient oral tradition, right?"

"But Willow—"

"You told us all about extra dimensions right?" Willow continued in a rush. "About what Glory needs to return. And every one of them has to be just perfect. Five of them, right? See, even the name of the authors: The Fifth Dimension. Not a coincidence, I think even you would have to admit."

Giles glared at her. "First, let me remind you, the late 60's is not ancient, just merely before your time." He saw Willow roll her eyes and continued before she could comment again. "And second, they were not the authors, but merely the singers. And third, not to belabor the point, but... are you really serious about this, this bit if frippery?" This time was it his opportunity to wave the paper before her eyes, causing her to blink.

Willow slumped, her excitement waning due to Giles's withering glare. "I know it sounds weird, but hear me out. Look here." Willow pointed to a passage. "'Dawning of the age of Aquarius'. Dawn! Maybe 'Age of Aquarius' is a hint for what will happen when Glory opens the portal and leaves this reality?" Upon the explanation, Willow was regaining her excitement and began hopping from foot to foot. "And see here, before that, it talks about all these alignments. It's like what you said. What if Glory's portal is somehow tied to an astronomical event, like the alignment of stars or something? It's got to mean something, right?" Willow was breathless again with excitement at her accidental discovery when searching the internet for more information about extra dimensions and alignments, just as Giles had described the writings of the Eastern royal physician. "It's got to mean something?" she repeated hopefully.

Giles was unable to hide his extreme skepticism. "Willow, while I admire your dedication, and your research skills are beyond excellent, this seems rather... far-fetched. The meta-physical and supernatural worlds rarely align with astrology, which is mostly bunkum. We're dealing with a Hell God here, not a cosmic phenomenon."

Willow was undeterred. She continued to explain her theory, pointing out specific lines in the lyrics that seemed to hint at a significant celestial event, possibly related to Glory. She described how supernatural energy and forces might be influenced by natural alignments and forces and how it could affect the timing of the portal. "As we learned with Oz and the moon, natural celestial forces can have an effect on the supernatural. One is not separate from the other. Even you have said that."

Giles sat back, slumped in the high-backed stool. Willow had a very valid point. Upon further reflection and recalling Wen Fu's writings, the royal physician had not provided details of what meta-physical qualities actually needed to be in phase. Giles had his suspicions about what might be involved but yet was still very uncertain what they were. It just might be possible the influence of the planets might have some minor effect on the creation of a portal, though not to the extent Willow was claiming. But someone of Willow's intelligence, research skills and instincts was not to be dismissed so quickly. Giles sighed heavily. He held up Willow's lyrics. "Look Willow, I'll admit grave reservations about something this seemingly frivolous, with very little to support it, but I also know nuggets of truth can sometimes lie in the most curious locations. So I won't completely discount this nor the work you've put in. But I will ask you to find me more, something to lend credence to this. While you're doing that I'll also track down some references and do a bit of my own analysis. If this does pan out, and if it gives us any greater information on how and when the portal is created then, yes indeed, this could be very helpful."

Willow brightened immediately and skipped off to a different part of the store.

Quietly enough Willow wouldn't hear him, and while still holding the page of lyrics of a truly god-awful song, Giles muttered to himself, "And I'll happily eat my hat and watch baseball with Xander if it turns out to be something worthwhile." He was confident he would not have to do either. But he did start running through his mind the line of research and leads to start with for his analysis. He had learned over the years that sometimes in the world of the slayer the most unexpected connections held the key to understanding.

–––

As previously planned, the group of minions nominated to approach the slayer would first get advice from Clem, the local demon they had identified as co-existing peacefully with the humans without any apparent animosity from the slayer. They had done their research and knew Clem frequented the hovel where demons often clustered, not far from where he did his own dealing.

Upon entering Willy's, they peered around the dark and filthy bar, filled with noxious fumes. They had trouble finding him among the small crowd of an eclectic mix of patrons, demons too stubborn or too stupid to leave Sunnydale despite Glory's presence. Some within were already fighting literally tooth, claw, and horn. Others were just in hushed conversations, drinking, eating, or smoking their favorite variety of blood or guts. Willy himself was doing his best to keep out of the way of the fighters but also clean up the resultant wreckage as much as possible.

They spotted the amiable and good-natured demon in a far corner of the bar, darker than all the other dim corners, trying to mind his own business. His usual gentle demeanor made him a unique presence in a bar filled with the more menacing creatures and he sometimes would feign a scowl or growl at any who came to close. As the minions approached him they saw he was sipping on a mug of something yellow-green with eyeballs bobbing on the surface. He looked up when they drew near, smiling when he recognized them.

"May we sit and discuss with you?" Semaj asked, apprehensive despite Clem's welcoming attitude. While Semaj had not been present during the earlier meeting between his brethren who had decided to approach Clem, he was the one among their cadre who had had the most interaction with Clem while Glory's penthouse suite was prepared for her presence.

Though surprised any creature would not mind being seen with him in this place Clem gestured to the empty chairs. Having dealt profitably with these little gray minions in the past he decided to strike up a jovial tone. "Sure thing, take a load off, have something to drink." He waved at Willy to get his attention but was unsuccessful. "What brings you here? What would you want to discuss with me? More furnishings for your home or crypt? Somehow I doubt it's the weather or how well the Rams did this year." Clem was not a fan of human sports in general (too much of that smooth ugly skin showing!) but he did enjoy American football and found it often helped put his few human customers at ease. Some of his demon customers too.

The minions exchanged nervous glances before Scab spoke up. "Some of us have been thinking about the future. Our future. We are not certain our Extremely Wondrous Glorificus will take all of us home with her." He carefully left out that their group were indeed traitors. If caught here they needed some explanation, weak as it was, for why they were talking to Clem on this subject. "If the great wisdom of Glory determines we should remain behind—which we of course most fervently don't want to be for we always want to serve her to the best of our ability wherever she may be!—we don't want any trouble with the slayer." Scab stopped and looked around at his companions, getting an encouraging nod from Semaj. "We have observed the slayer does not interfere with you nor do you hide from her. Can you help us understand how you accomplish such docile behavior from the slayer?"

Clem's eyes widened slightly, surprised. "So you're with Glory, eh? It's you and your Glory who are the reason demons have been leaving the Hellmouth." He frowned and complained, "And my business has lost many customers." He looked around at the seemingly crowded bar. "Ah, this place is practically empty. Poor Willy." He waggled his head, folds of skin on his neck flopping about. "Poor me! You should have seen it before Glory decided to visit our quaint town. We had it nice," Clem mourned, "real nice and cozy. Doesn't seem to me you're deserving of any help."

The minions looked at each other. They had not cared nor even thought about the impact their presence might have had on the local populations. Now they were forced to deal with some of the unintended ramifications of their mistress's actions. Semaj thought of something that might sway Clem. "You say you've lost customers. We could be new customers. There are many of us," he declared. He hoped when all was said and done and Glory gone, there would in fact be many of them left alive. "Would you help us then?"

Clem nodded thoughtfully on this new angle. While the loss of customers was to be mourned, there were definitely a few he was pleased not having to deal with anymore. And if these demons of Glory's could make up the difference, well maybe he could have his cat and eat it too. "You'll buy exclusively from me if I help? Many of you? How many?"

"We would be most pleased to be your customers. And there could be a multitude of us unfortunate ones who may have to stay behind as we help our Glory," said Scab, looking around at the others for their agreement.

"And you're looking to coexist peacefully? After Glory leaves? That's an interesting goal after all the harm you've done. Let me think..." Clem scratched his head, his sharp claws making a soft scraping sound against his scalp.

"We are most sorry for the harm. Will you help us?"

"And if you stay, if the slayer lets you stay, you'll be good customers, right? All your new homes, caves, hovels and crypts will need lots of furnishing, yes? Beds, sofas, tables, bureaus, foot stools, dressers, other accessories?"

They again looked around at each other then nodded affirmatively.

"And no trouble or fighting? Not with the slayer? Not with the other humans?"

They nodded again.

"Then we're off to a good start." Clem rubbed his hands together briskly, leaned back and ran through the possibilities in his head, mostly concerning his own safety but also with much consideration to his bottom line. He decided. "OK, first things first," he began, "You have to understand slayers. They're not docile. You must always be careful not to offend. And humans, they're a funny bunch. In some ways they're not all that different from demons when you get down to it. They want to live their lives, protect their turf, and not be bothered. Approaching them with respect is key. Don't make any threats about their souls or eating their pets or their limbs, or anything that might hurt them. They don't react well to that kind of thing."

Semaj nodded agreement. "Be respectful. Make no threats. Do no harm. Be nice to pets." Semaj frowned as did the others, confused by those necessities. "But how do we show that? Do we bring her flowers? Do we obtain a pet for her?" They had once seen something on the television where one human brought flowers to another human. They couldn't imagine why colorful vegetation would please humans. The human fascination with creatures even furrier than themselves was totally unfathomable and Semaj hoped they wouldn't have to attempt any such thing.

Clem chuckled. "A peace offering wouldn't hurt. Maybe find something that shows you're not here to cause trouble. Humans like gestures. It makes them feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And small talk. They like that too."

Scab leaned forward. "And what about this slayer?" He had no idea what 'small talk' was. Perhaps some kind of pet Clem had referred to? He put that out of his mind, too easy to get wrong. He didn't understand it, but at least he knew what flowers were. "Does the slayer like flowers?"

"Flowers, well..." Clem leaned back, gazing at the ceiling and nodded to himself. "Yeah. They might make a good icebreaker. Couldn't hurt to try. A nice bouquet. Maybe a bottle of wine too." The minions nodded their understanding (even if they really didn't), and Clem continued. "But here's the thing. You can't just stroll up to her and say, 'Hey, we're Glory's demons, we've done a lot of damage for Glory but now we promise to be nice.' You gotta do it in a way that doesn't set off her slayer senses."

Scab scratched his head, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Yes, the slayer can be very perceptive. We have always kept a distance."

"Perhaps she'll feel more comfortable on her home ground," advised Clem.

"'Home ground'? What is that?" asked Scab.

"A place where she spends her time, feels comfortable, feels safe."

"Ah, I believe we know her home ground. We have seen her there often. We'll find a way to approach without causing trouble. Maybe offer an icebreaker."

Clem patted Scab on the back. "That's the spirit! Be genuine. humans can sense sincerity. If you're honest about wanting to coexist peacefully, they might surprise you."

With a chorus of thanks, the minions left the demon bar, still thinking about the possibilities of a plan to approach the Slayer without triggering a full-blown violent confrontation. And where to find an icebreaker.

–––

"How did I got roped into the most stupid idea since God created males?" Cordelia called out from their bedroom where she was getting ready. "What numb-skull thought a double-date would be a good idea?" Her tone made it clear she knew exactly who that numb-skull was.

While waiting in the living room for Cordelia, Xander closed his eyes and breathed a quiet sigh of frustration. He had been hearing many variations of this complaint for the last hour or so and he was running low on counter-arguments. But he still had a few more left in the tank. He opened his eyes and called out, "Think of it as a 'Team Slayer' team-bonding event."

"Like when you and Willow were 'bonding'?"

He winced at the pointed reminder. "OK, no bonding. We hate those people with a fiery blazing passion, each and everyone: Tara, worst of the worst. Willow, girlfriend of Tara, therefore even worser. Dawn, the cause of all our troubles so she's the one we reserve our special '52-vintage hate for. Yep, all with the hate and ain't no bonding gonna go on here, not no way, not no how."

He heard Cordelia snort in disgust. He could practically hear her shaking her head and rolling her eyes. He tried a different tack, one based on actual facts. "It's just one simple dinner, no bowling, no Spike, no Oz, and technically, with Dawn along, it's not really a double-date."

"No, that just makes it an especially weird and awkward double-date," she responded tartly.

Xander expressed mock surprise. "Weird? Weird, you say? Weird is just business as usual on the Hellmouth! And, as I'm sure you recall, it was actually Tara and Dawn who did most of the 'roping'."

"Then how did I let you let them do your dirty work?"

This time Xander bristled. "First, it was not my idea at all, and for the same reasons as you. Second, unlike most people you've ever met, you actually like Tara and Dawn." He looked at his reflection in the patio glass door and smoothed down some of his hair that was sticking up. "And really, how bad could it be? We're all different now, presumably actual adults. You've already taken Spike out of the picture. You made peace with Willow. So everything is different, nothing is going to happen."

"If you define nothing as the smoldering ashen aftermath of crashing and burning friendships, relationships, partnerships, companionship's, dealerships, penmanship and any other -ship you can think of, then you're spot on."

He decided to try a sympathy argument. "Look, Buffy is having a rough time. This will give her and Giles some valuable slayer-watcher 'alone time' to work out stuff."

"Maybe you want to re-word that?" she called out. "You're making Giles into a dirty old pervert. Which might be true, but no need to go there without evidence."

He double-checked that his fly was zipped. "Well, then think of it as a challenge. You would never back down from a challenge, right?" Xander was curious how she would react to that argument.

"A challenge? Seriously? Xander, do I seem like a contestant on some reality demon dating show? I've faced vampires, demons, demon goo, demon goo on my shoes, and heinous fashion disasters such as you. I don't need a challenge, I need a relaxing drama-free evening. You, me, curled up by the fire. A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Romantic background music."

For a moment Xander fantasized about that scene and smiled. Reality set in when he opened his eyes to the content of their living room. "We don't have a fireplace."

"You know what I mean!"

Xander finally heard her wrap up whatever mysterious preparations she had been engaged in. "You may need drama-free, but the rest of us unfortunate deprived peasants need our USDA recommended daily allowance of Queen-C acid wit, part of a complete and wholesome evening." Even the reserve tank of rejoinders was now just about empty. He hoped it would work.

"Not bad. I'll give you that one," Cordelia conceded as she entered the living room.

Xander turned when he heard her footsteps coming his way and was about to ask if she was finally ready. He froze in place as she walked toward him. He had read how a man's heart could flutter at the sight of a beautiful woman, and surely his did, often, in Cordelia's presence. But actual stoppage was not something he had believed possible. Until now. Cordelia was absolutely heart-stopping beautiful. He could literally feel his heart missing several beats, blood not flowing, then thumping hard to catch up.

Cordelia was the epitome of sublime under-stated elegance. She wore a black curve-hugging dress accentuating her figure to perfection with a sweetheart neckline and thin, delicate straps. The skirt flowed gracefully from her hips down to just below her knees, showing off the smooth curve of calf. The shimmering black satin whispered softly with every stride. Her dark hair cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders, framing her face perfectly and revealing diamond stud earrings which sparkled with every movement. Xander had no idea how much time was passing as he stood immobile, transfixed. She was pleased by his reaction, showing him a brilliant approving smile as she turned to show off.

"Xander, tongue off the floor please, or you'll get drool all over the place," she playfully teased him.

It took a few moments and a lot of focused concentration (though he would much rather concentrate all his focus on her) but Xander was finally able to reconnect his brain to his mouth and be certain he didn't blubber or babble. Or fall over. "Uh, yeah. New ground rule: no drool on the ground." Xander shook himself off. "Words are not enough to do justice but can I can say Wow! Maybe a bit of stunning on the side, too?"

"You may." She stepped up to him and he kissed her lightly, not smearing the lipstick.

He stepped back, arms still around her waist and took her in again. "Not that I'm objecting in any way, shape or form—and your shape and form are magnificent!—but... you do recall this is supposed to be a casual evening out?"

Cordelia completely turned again on one heel to get a feel for how the skirt draped, eyeing her reflection critically in the same window Xander had used moments before. Getting another gawk from Xander was an extra benefit. "If these are going to be my last weeks alive before Glory decimates us all, then I need at least one night where I can dress-up." She smiled and stepped back into his embrace. "And you're cleaning up pretty nicely yourself," she said approvingly. While not as elegantly dressed as Cordelia he was looking good in light-colored slacks, a dark polo-shirt and casual blazer over. She took a moment to flatten part of the collar he had mussed up, her finger-tips tickling his neck. His sudden inhaled breath brought in the subtle fragrance of the heady perfume she was also wearing. Again light-headed he paused as Cordelia smiled her bemusement.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Hooking arms they headed out to pick up Willow and Tara and then Dawn.

–––

Giles noted the presence of Xander's car in the Summers' driveway when he turned the corner onto Revello Lane, half a block from the house. Then he saw Dawn with Xander as they were each about to get into the car, waving when he pulled up beside them. Cordelia had remained in the front seat and turned to wave when she saw Giles. He was about to ask where they were going but then recalled Buffy saying something about Dawn joining the others for a dinner out with 'Team Slayer'.

"Hiya!" chirped Dawn.

Giles barely had time to wave back before Dawn jumped into the back seat with Willow and Tara. He watched briefly as Xander backed into the street and then disappear around the corner. Giles continued to the front door and let himself in. Buffy was in the entrance to the dining room looking somberly at the door he had just entered through. She didn't greet Giles.

Giles gently called out to get her attention. "Buffy?" He approached slowly, not even certain she was aware of his presence.

Buffy blinked and looked up.

"Are you alright, Buffy?" He knew Buffy was still having a difficult time but hadn't realized it might be this bad.

She waved at the door. "I can't believe I'm letting her out there. There's nothing I could do if Glory figures out who she is."

"How will Glory know Dawn is the Key? She believes you have the Key. And that it's of great importance. If you're not watching over Dawn then to her that would mean Dawn is not important and therefore is not the Key."

Buffy shrugged. "That makes a sort of sense that usually has Non as a first name. And what if she figures it out some other way?"

"How? Hiding her in plain sight is working. She was nose to nose with Dawn and didn't realize what was literally inches in front of her. We can be quite certain she or her minions are watching you very closely. Possibly even right now. If you were to suddenly be overly protective of Dawn then that would be a sure sign she is something special to you—"

"She is!" Buffy snapped, finally looking at Giles.

"You know what I mean," Giles responded reasonably. "Dawn will be fine. Glory has already interrogated her and come away none the wiser. She knows you are not the Key but believes you are the primary avenue to it. If she believes you're protecting it and Dawn is not here being protected then that actually takes attention away from her. Which can only be good."

Buffy's shoulders rose and fell in resignation. "Alright I get it. Dawn will be safer if she's not chained to me at the hip. But I don't have to like it." She made a pouty frown of extreme disapproval of the situation.

"Quite understandable." Giles smiled and patted her shoulder. "Now, how can I help with dinner?"

Buffy had Giles do most of the cutting and chopping while she worked the stove. It was a simple meal, bland American comfort food, but all Buffy was up to. There was no dessert. She was quiet throughout the meal, answering Giles questions and prompts but otherwise not talking much, mostly pushing food in circles around her plate.

Afterward, in front of the sink, Buffy slowly washed and rinsed each dish before handing it off to Giles to wipe dry and put away. When done she silently headed to the family room. Giles, concerned by her continued silence, followed. As she passed an end-table by the sofa, Buffy picked up a scarf left there by her mother after her date with Brian. Buffy meant to put it away days ago but found she couldn't move anything of her mom's. She tightly wound it up in her hand and struggled to hold back tears as she sagged back against the wall.

"Buffy?"

"The emptiness never goes away!" Her head dropped into her hand

"It will get better." Giles grimaced helplessly. "I know it's not much to hang on to, but truly, it will get better, in time."

"And this too shall pass? Some crap like that, huh?" She gave Giles a baleful disbelieving look.

Head down in thought, Giles began slowly circling the room, letting Buffy keep her place by the wall. "Listen Buffy, this is not something you just 'get over'. It will never stop hurting when you think of her. Nor should it, not if you truly love her." He paused to make sure she was listening. "And I know you do. She knows you do." His use of the present-tense was deliberate. He stepped in front of her, reached out and gently grasped Buffy's shoulders. "Allow yourself to feel any way you want, none of it's wrong. So allow it to hurt, it let's you know how much you love her and she loves you."

Buffy was bleak, eyes red. "But I don't know how long I can live like this! Getting up in the morning is unbearable. Sometimes it hurts just to breath. If it weren't for Dawn..."

"I know it's hard and painful now, I truly understand that." One does not get to be Giles age as a human and a watcher without having experienced plenty of personal grief. He gently lifted her chin. "You learn to deal with it one moment at a time and then get yourself to the next moment in any way you can."

"Why?! Why does it matter?"

"Because you're human. And alive. Otherwise you'll have died too, something your mother would not have wanted," Giles said rather sternly. He turned away as he continued. "So you get to the next moment, the next minute, and then the minute after that, and again, and—"

"Shampoo, rinse, repeat? Is that from your slayer manual, the one you never let me read? Your hair will be clean, soft, and frizz-free. What a wonderful world. Don't worry, be happy? Just keep swimming? Is there nothing more to offer besides tired platitudes, cliches, and happy jingles?"

Giles shrugged his apology. "Not much. The reason they're cliches is they're usually right. Buffy, your mother was an amazing remarkable woman. Just as you are. And she loved you for the wonderful, strong, living daughter you are. Despite how you feel right now, please believe there will come a time when you can indeed be happy again." He paused, remembering. "A few days ago, at Xander's, weren't you feeling good, at least for a few minutes? Perhaps more? So just like then, there will be moments during the coming days when you'll realize it doesn't hurt so much."

Sighing deeply, Buffy pushed away from the wall and came into the center of the room, then turned to face Giles. "I'll be OK," she said tiredly, looking back down at the scarf still twisted in her hands. "But some minutes are harder than others. A lot harder. I'm thinking Einstein had relativity all wrong. Those good minutes, like at Xander's, only seem to last a few seconds. The bad minutes? They go on for hours."

Giles laughed a little, then became more serious. "Well, eventually those will even out. One day you'll actually be able to smile. Laugh at one of Xander's idiotic jokes. Gossip with Willow. Trade insults with Cordelia. And then you'll notice, for those moments, you were actually happy. Those moments will keep building up." He stopped to make sure he had Buffy's undivided attention. "And here is the part you need to understand: being happy is not forgetting your mother or saying she was unimportant. Being happy is honoring her. Your mother was not a vengeful, spiteful person. She loved you and wanted you—you and Dawn—to be happy. Her passing does not change that, it just makes it more important."

Buffy nodded her head, she so wanted to believe what Giles was telling her, that somewhere in a tangible future life wouldn't feel so bleak and barren, so lonely. "But it takes forever! And there's Glory to deal with all that time."

"Yes, it's a long process, not magic. It won't make the pain any lesser or disappear. Some days it will be awful. But it can help a little, and a little is what we start with." Giles grimaced and gave a heartfelt sigh. "And yes, unfortunately, as the slayer you'll have get through the process a bit faster, or at least set aside the worst when duty calls. And dealing with Glory is a hell of a duty. You also should remember that 'Team Slayer' is 'Team Buffy' as well. Lean on them, let them help you where and when they can." Giles turned and motioned to the front door. "Just as you're doing now with Dawn, allowing her to have some freedom. Continue that. Letting them in during your darkest moments can in fact strengthen you, giving you that space needed to deal head-on with Glory."

Her head kept telling her she needed her friends. She knew the history and the facts. She still remembered Cordelia's comments at the Bronze, just before Riley had left. She remembered her own speech to Quention, that she would keep her motley crew. That was all well and good. Except that every time Glory got too near, or even encountering a mere run-of-the-mill vampire or some other demon still lolly-gagging about Sunnydale, something deep down inside her, with incredible strength and impossible to ignore, kept telling her something else, kept pulling her away from them with a nearly overpowering ferocity. The slayer is the one and only. "She alone will stand against..." Remove all others!

Buffy was agitated and began pacing with quick steps. "In my head and my heart I know I couldn't have gotten this far without them. But that's up here," she pointed to her head, "and here," she put her hand over her heart. "But there's a whole other side of me that doesn't want them around at all, that it's got to be me. Always me. Only me. I'm right but I'm also wrong, and I don't know which way to go. It's like I don't even know who I really am anymore."

Giles sighed. "This is not uncommon with many slayers, especially the longer-lived ones. You are literally wrestling with an internal demon, that Slayer Spirit originally manifested in the First Slayer. We have to help you learn to be its master so that you are making the choices, to do what you want for your reasons, and channel that demon's strengths to your will, so that you are always Buffy."

He strode to where he had left his briefcase by the front door, opened it and pulled out a rather modern book, "Volume II" stamped on the front. "The usual book solution is playing some hokey-pokey in the desert sand." He held up the volume of the slayer manual then firmly put it down on the table. "That might have been helpful during a time when it really was just the one slayer against a relative handful of demons. But that paradigm clearly isn't effective in these modern times where the demons can hop around the world in first-class. This new paradigm, with the support and help of those who care and love you, is clearly what works. So I think this answer," he tapped the book, "will be less than useless and we shan't use it." He picked up the book and turned to put it away.

"Then what do I do?" she pleaded, "I can't sit here alone all night."

"I'm here," gently responded Giles, straightening up.

"You know what I mean. I can't rely on you for everything."

"Well, your friends, of course. And would you consider trying to get back to routine? A way to re-start some of the normal things in your life?"

"Demons and vampires are considered normal things in life?"

Giles laughed. "For a slayer, yes, of course."

"Why couldn't I have been imbued with the power of a beautician," grumbled Buffy, "Then normal could mean pedicures, waxing, perms and gossiping about the Jones's." She sighed wistfully and considered. "OK, maybe getting out would be good. It should be pretty light, easy duty, not much action any more with Glory around."

–––

The Charthouse restaurant was perched on cliffs overlooking the Pacific. Business was good, the inside crowded and noisy, many other diners choosing to sit outside on the heated patio despite the chill breeze off the water. As he pulled up, Xander found all the nearby parking taken so he dropped off the girls in front and parked just a few blocks away. They were still outside waiting for him by the time he had walked back.

Xander and Cordelia, accompanied by Willow, Tara and Dawn, entered the restaurant and began their double-date (plus one) team-bonding activity. Clustered together as they waited to be seated, Xander noticed Cordelia was frowning again much as she had when they were first arguing about the sanity of this event. In particular he noted the direction Cordelia was looking and shook his head.

"This is going to be so bad," she mumbled.

Even with the surrounding noise of other patrons, he heard her and turned. "Suppose I use the magic word?"

Cordelia turned to face him squarely. "Don't even think it! You and magic are like nitro and glycerin." He looked up under brows with his best puppy-eyes. She gave in with a sigh. "Fine, knock me silly with your magic. Try not to maim."

"I was going to say 'Please?'"

"That is so totally unfair!" She scowled then rolled her eyes. "OK, begin the double-date. With Dawn." How could she refuse when he played dirty like that? But still she knew this would be a bad, bad night.

He grinned and added, "Now I'll use another magic word on you."

"Xander, the last time you got us mixed up in so much magic you had half the population of Sunnydale trying to kill us. Just stop while you're ahead and we're still alive."

"This time it's simply 'Thank you'."

"That's two words," she snapped. Then she smiled. "Sometimes I really hate you."

"And I love that you do."

The maitre d' returned from sitting the previous party, confirmed their reservation and led them to a table by the windows overlooking the beach below. Opposite the windows, in the middle of the dining room was a large stone fireplace, the crackling and hissing pops of the fire complemented by the muffled crashing of the waves below. The flickering glow from the fireplace and table candles accentuated the moonlight sparkling off the waves.

After sitting, Tara looked around, awed by the setting. "I know I haven't been in Sunnydale long but still I had no idea this place existed. It's amazing!"

Xander also looked about, disdainfully. "I don't know. It doesn't quite measure up to Bucky's Fondue Hut. Like, where's the chintzy decor with squashed tubas and dirty license plates on the walls?" He grabbed the edge of the table and lightly tested its sturdiness. "Not chipped Formica, for shame! I don't see a junk yard through any of these windows, just that cheesy, annoying moonlight. And the sound of the ocean instead of Elvis covers by the Johnny Mann Singers, really?!" Xander shook his head emphatically. "Nope, no comparison. Let's leave."

Tara laughed, then tried to settle in. But she had overheard some of the whispering between Xander and Cordelia when they were waiting. "Would you guys have preferred some time together? We could get separate tables maybe?" She started to get up, looking for a waiter.

"No, no, Tara," answered Cordelia, quickly leaning over to put her hand on Tara's forearm to stop her, "that's quite alright."

Tara noticed Willow now also seemed a bit nervous and uncomfortable. "Is there some other problem?"

Cordelia sighed before explaining. "Well let's examine a bit of history here, shall we?" She looked up, summarizing her thoughts before continuing. "What was supposed to be a double-date—a double bowling date, eeuch!" She shuddered in horror as the B-word passed through her lips. "with Willow and Oz, me and Xander, put me in the hospital with a major puncture wound after witnessing the two of them in a close encounter of the smoochie kind."

Tara looked down, awkwardly embarrassed despite having nothing to do with past events. "Oh, I hadn't realized that's how it all began." Tara had known about the "fluke" itself, Willow and Xander caught kissing, but Willow hadn't explained some of the context. She turned to Willow. "Maybe we should sit somewhere else."

"No, please don't. That was then and this is now. This is completely different, and we're different." Cordelia looked meaningfully at the young girl next to Willow. "And if any of us get out of line, I'm sure Dawn will slap us down hard?" She got a firm confirming nod from Dawn. The tension from Willow and Xander eased considerably.

The waiter arrived to take their order for drinks. Xander swept up the wine list and examined it closely, scanning his eyes up and down, back and forth with a furrowed brow and concerned look. Cordelia glanced over and immediately pointed. "That one." The waiter nodded his approval, not even bothering to confirm with Xander.

They sat back and picked up their menus to peruse the offerings. their eyes constantly drifting back and forth from the mouth-watering descriptions of the dishes to the breathtaking view outside. The polite but tentative chit-chat over choices for appetizers and entree's gradually eased into a relaxed and flowing give-and-take of conversation and laughs.

The wine arrived, whereupon Cordelia swirled a sip around her mouth, closing her eyes, breathing in the alcoholic aroma. "Perfect." All were soon served a glass, including Dawn after she got a reluctant nod from Xander.

Tara's eyes wandered back to the window, and she reached to hold Willow's hand. "It's so beautiful!" The moon's silver light sparkled off the water's crinkled surface, flashing when the spray from a wave caught the light just right.

Taking a cue from Tara's comment, Xander turned to Cordelia, spreading his arms wide to encompass their surroundings "See? Everything is just as you wanted it: you, me." He raised his glass. "Napa's finest Cabernet Sauvignon—"

"It's a Merlot," Cordelia corrected Xander's ignorance of the finer aspects of the fruit of the vine, "from San Luis Obispo."

"—a warm fire," Xander smoothly continued. "Even moonlight and splashing water, both of which you forgot about. So this is even more perfecter," he declared.

Cordelia finally gave in gracefully with a nod and affirming smile at Xander's little victory.

The dinner went smoothly. Perhaps it was the influence of the good food and drink, or perhaps Tara's naturally optimistic nature, or Dawn's exuberant chattiness finally being away from Buffy for a little while, or even Xander's plethora of bad jokes. Dawn's enthusiasm and Tara's usual self-contained comforting presence sapped any tension that might still have existed between Xander, Cordelia and Willow. To her mild surprise, Cordelia was actually enjoying the time spent with the other four. And she felt no concerns nor jealousy when Xander was talking just with Willow. Conversation ebbed and flowed, ranging in topics from Xander's work, Dawn's schoolwork (mostly how boring it was), Cordelia's business ambitions, and Tara and Willow's ongoing studies. Glory and any potential world destruction was studiously not mentioned.

Sooner than expected their evening together was closer to the end than the beginning and they were considering dessert options. Dawn choose the Mudd-Pie with vanilla ice-cream. Tara and Willow were thinking of sharing a slice of Key Lime pie or a peach tart. Cordelia debated the tiramisu versus the amount of working out to burn off the calories. As she considered and finally made up her mind, setting down the menu, she leaned over to Xander. "Can I borrow the car this Saturday?"

"Hmmm?" Xander was scanning his own menu to see if there was anything more chocolaty than the Mudd-Pie Dawn had chosen. He certainly agreed with Dawn's appreciation of mass quantities of chocolate intake but thought she should have gone all-in with the chocolate ice-cream for extra goodness. With decision made he turned some of his attention to Cordelia's inquiry while still examining the desserts to make sure there wasn't something more enticing. "Of course. What for?" he asked without glancing up. Yeah, you can never go wrong with too much chocolate!

"Christine is willing to let me ride Keanu again, maybe even some free training in exchange for a bit of work around the barn."

"A bit of work?" asked Xander, naturally assuming her business aspirations discussed earlier segued into the answer just provided. "So you'll be like her business manager or something like that?"

Cordelia grinned. "More like cleaning tack and mucking out stalls," she answered without any embarrassment.

Xander pondered the image of Cordelia literally getting down and dirty with the labor of actual manualness. Nope, it was simply impossible to imagine!

Before he could reply Tara broke off her own conversation with Willow. "Cordelia, sorry for over-hearing, but did you just mention something about tack and stalls?"

Pleased that getting the car was taken care of so easily, Cordelia turned to Tara With a smile. "Yes, Tara, I'm going to the barn where Keanu, my horse—"

Xander cleared his throat.

"—I used to own is stabled." Cordelia tilted her head in curiosity, noticing a gleam in Tara's eye. "Do you know anything about horses?"

Tara beamed. "I love horses! I used to ride when I was a kid, and even competed in some smaller shows around Oregon." She frowned momentarily. "But then it got too expensive and I had to stop." She sighed wistfully, looking out the windows, lost in happy memories for a few seconds. "I do miss it."

"What type of riding did you do?" Tara and Cordelia immediately jumped into an animated conversation on all topics equestrian, Western vs. English riding styles, merits of hot-blooded and warm-blooded horses, various shows they'd been to or heard of around the west, including some in Canada. Xander and Willow were quickly forgotten as Tara and Cordelia talked, Dawn listening avidly.

Cordelia voiced a thought just forming during their conversation. "Tell you what. I can't promise that Chris will let you ride or anything, but would you like to come up with me? Even if you aren't allowed to ride it's quite beautiful up there." Tara didn't care, she was just really excited to be around horses again. She eagerly nodded. And maybe, like Cordelia, see if she could do some work around the barn to help pay for riding.

Dessert finally arrived and Cordelia and Tara continued their conversation. Dawn listened in, asking ignorant questions patiently answered by Tara or Cordelia. A bemused Willow and Xander also tried to ask questions, which were answered with some impatient exasperation, but mostly they were ignored.

When dessert was finished and the bill paid, they left the restaurant and decided to go for a walk on the beach. Across the parking lot began a narrow path through trees, brush and then boulders that led down to the sand. At first Cordelia was reluctant because of the dress but decided to anyway. What the hell, it's not like there will be another chance to wear it again, she reasoned. And she would try to be careful. Even as they took the lead, Cordelia and Tara kept their conversation going. This time Dawn stayed with Willow and Xander, all three falling further and further behind, chit-chatting about nothing in particular. Sometimes, if the wind was just right and if the rock squirrels weren't making too much noise scampering away, they could listen in on the two in front, shrugging and rolling their eyes.

As they carefully picked their way down some of the more treacherous parts of the trail Tara glanced over her shoulder at Xander and Willow behind. "Can I ask you a serious question, Cordelia?"

Cordelia frowned at the change in tenor of the conversation, but nevertheless was happy to answer Tara. "Fire away."

"Now that you and Xander are together will you be staying in Sunnydale after this thing with Glory is over? It's only been a few months since you arrived but it seems like you've really done well here. Saving the world from Glory, a good job, good friends, riding. Even a decent boyfriend." She smiled with her last comment.

Cordelia returned Tara's smile and playful characterization of Xander. She too glanced back at him chatting with Willow and became more thoughtful when she responded to Tara. "To be honest, I'm really not sure. When I first got here I didn't know for how long, but I didn't think it could end up being this long. Obviously there are big reasons to stay—you included—but there are also reasons to return to L.A. Maybe if there was some way to split the difference?" She shrugged uncertainly. "Assuming we're not wiped out by Glory then I guess we'll have some things to work out, knock on wood." A large driftwood log had been washed up by a recent winter storm, left high and dry where the brush ended and the trail let out onto the beach. Cordelia reached down to knock on the log three times.

Noticing Tara's then Cordelia's glance back as they removed their shoes and sauntered across the sand toward the water, Willow turned to Xander. "Everything still good with you two? Not tired of her yet?" she quietly asked. Dawn was curious too and listened closely. She really hoped her shovel speech had made it clear to them that even if things weren't always puppies and flowers that they just needed to stay honest and keep working at it.

"Two days and still going strong. But ask again in two weeks." Though Xander's tone and smile seemed joke-y enough, Willow could definitely sense a serious undertone about it, that he was fully and happily committed to Cordelia. It certainly did seem like the two of them were growing stronger and stronger every time she saw them. She sighed wistfully. She truly was happy Xander was happy. But him and Cordelia was something she was still getting used to.

–––

Glory's minions assigned to follow the different humans belonging to the slayer found it easier than they had expected this night. They knew the smallest human, the one Glory had already interrogated in the park, was not a target of their search. However the other four were still potentially the Key and each had an assigned team to observe and listen and determine if it was new in the slayer's life.

They soon noticed there were two pairs of humans who were often together much of the time, making it easier to adjust their observation points and allow for all the possible directions the pair might go. When the two pairs combined together this night (along with the small one already dismissed) in just one car they were easily followed in the light traffic.

The one difficulty was when the humans crowded together with other humans to fill their mouths with food and they could not be followed inside. Fortunately the minions were able to get one among them to crouch by the window near the humans, able to hear at least a few words over the ocean noise. As was usually the case, they would hope the humans repeated their conversations over and over again to themselves and others and that eventually they would hear something of use.

Prepared when their quarry finally exited the restaurant, they were positioned and hidden among the parked cars and in the vegetation around. The human's unexpected move to the path threw them off but they quickly recovered as some of them had already been near. They scurried about the trees and vegetation and boulders, staying in the shadows. This was something thousands of years of hiding among humans had given them the skills to easily do.

They were soon disappointed. The humans were very dull and nothing interesting was said. They only talked about themselves and inner squabbles. They remained diligent, knowing that Glory would expect no less. Their diligence paid off. Just before the humans were out of earshot the minions furthest ahead, nearest the two long-furred humans in the front, suddenly became more interested. Their ears literally perked up when hearing the shorter one mention the recent return to Sunnydale of the other. "Did you hear that? That one," Trebor pointed at Tara, "mentioned a 'Cordelia', which must be the human with her, has just recently come to this town." Trebor's companion nodded agreement. This was something worthwhile!

They couldn't follow the humans out onto the beach itself, instead taking their photos then backing deeper into shadows, confidant any noise they made would be drowned out by the sound of the surf humans always seemed to like. Once away from the humans they arranged to have a larger meeting at the penthouse with the others and decide on next steps.

The next day, with developed photographs in hand, they brought out the notes being compiled as they learned bits of knowledge about each of the slayer's humans. Mostly what they had were just names and photographs from different angles to help tell them apart. A few they had more information on. Two of them, the male and the female with red fur, they strongly believed to have been with the slayer the longest, certainly long before the arrival of Glory. Of the two others, Tara and Cordelia, the notes indicated they were more recently arrived from elsewhere but they didn't have details. Their compatriots became very excited. H'pesoj reminded them the Tara had specifically cited the Cordelia as the one most recently in Sunnydale, right at same time they had calculated the appearance of the Key.

"But which one is the Cordelia?" Murk asked when their book was turned to the right pages. He flipped back and forth between the pages, comparing the pictures taken the previous night with the ones in their notes. He could not see any differences.

Trebor, the one who had actually taken the photographs, plucked it from Murk's hand and also flipped through the pages, carefully comparing the features of his photo with those previously captured and labeled. After some minutes he stopped. "This one," Trebor announced confidently, pointing to the pages. He could discern this one was a bit taller and bumpier than some of the others, and had very long dark fur.

Murk took the book back and tried again. "Yes," he finally agreed, "I believe you are correct and this is the one." He set the book down to address the whole group. "I caution, we must investigate thoroughly to be certain, or our Glory will be most displeased." They all knew the consequences of Glory's displeasure if they were in error, but they were also optimistic. Their mission was clear: gather information about the 'Cordelia' human. Was it truly new in the slayer's life? What was its connection to Sunnydale? When those and other questions were answered, they would report everything they discovered back to their mercurial and dangerous mistress.

Led by Murk, the large majority of minions in the meeting were loyalists to Glory and her ultimate goal. Two heretical minions, Enaj and Yalk also were present, but they kept quiet and nodded along, not contributing anything but neither disagreeing. They would have to make arrangements of their own, afterwards. When the meeting finally broke up, and each and all went their separate ways to begin investigating, the two nodded to each other in silent agreement to meet later with the more senior of their own group of rebels.

"I fear Glory may be getting close to acquiring the Key," Semaj mourned. His head drooped and he quietly despaired.

"Yes, they now believe they know who is new in the Slayer's life," responded Dreg. "I propose we accelerate our own time-table to treat with the slayer. We must know where we stand. Will we be allowed to stay here on this Earth? Will the slayer let us? We must know!"

Glrk nodded. "I agree. It is time we meet. We have the advice of Clem. We can purchase an icebreaker the slayer will like." Glrk looked around at the others. "Tomorrow night, if possible?" They nodded, some more reluctantly than others. There were always grave dangers when facing the slayer, not least the possibility a loyalist might discover the existence of the rebels and their plans.