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“Seriously,” Lorne said. “Is my address posted on the Internet? Can you Mapquest this place? Because this is really...”

This came almost two hours after Lorne’s previous visitor stormed in and out of his flat in under fifteen minutes. He felt like Taco Bell Lorne. Now, here was Andrew, looking shabby in his chalky-kneed black jeans and ripe smelling turtleneck. Oh, yeah, and he carting a squawking, shrieking mass of beak and feathers in a flimsy cage, the kind you buy imported from Mexico at one of London’s street markets in the spring.

Andrew pressed in beneath Lorne’s attempt to strong-arm the door.

“You have to take my bird,” Andrew cried.

Lorne stammered, “You can’t give me the bird.”
Andrew set the cage to the floor. He bent over double to catch his breath.

“Wicked bad,” Clarisse declared.

“You have to take her,” Andrew said. “She’s not safe with me.”

“Hey, Mr.' La Cage aux Folles',” Lorne said. “I am not a bird sanctuary.”

Andrew clapped his hands to his temples. “Look, Lorne. It’s temporary. Clarisse needs a home and Dawn’s, like, allergic to feathers.”

“Clarisse,” Lorne said. “As in Nighna’s Clarisse.”

“Yeah,” Andrew said.

“I heard you two were a hot item,” Lorne said. “You and Nighna. Not the bird.”

“We’re in an off-again phase,” Andrew said. “Buffy mentioned you guys were super-best pals.”

“Hold the guacamole, Sancho Panza,” Lorne said. He massaged the bridge of his nose. A headache was forming behind his eyes. “Nighna is not what I’d venture even close to calling compadre. She owes me, and Nighna’s all about business.”

Andrew considered for a moment. He said, “Then consider Clarisse currency.”

“Wanker!” Clarisse exclaimed.

“She always says that,” Andrew said, coughing in an embarrassed way into his hand. “She doesn’t mean it.”

“Look, kid,” Lorne said. “Much as I might enjoy minding a mynah with Turret’s, I’m all about avoiding the danger. I’ve made a clean break.”

“It would be a ginormous favor,” Andrew said, steadily growing shriller. “For me. And for Buffy. As in, Slayers of the world unite. As in, major good cause. I just got the DL on a whole bunch of pertinent material, which makes me Mr. Anti-Safety Dance. Fate of the world may depend...”

“’Kay!” Lorne said. “You have made very good points.” Lorne walked a very tight circle on the shag rug on his living room floor. It made him dizzy. “You know what this bird means, right?”

Andrew nodded. Very studiously, he recited the Watcher’s Codex entry regarding Kimaris demons. “Inside of the bird is an egg. Inside that egg is a needle made of gold. And inside that resides a Kimaris’ soul,” he said. “Nighna’s soul.”

“So you get a stamp for good studies,” Lorne said. “You must know she’ll come looking for her. They’re linked.”

“She won’t seek her out,” Andrew said, quietly. He avoided Lorne’s eyes.

“Something happen to Nines?” Lorne asked.

“She asked me to take her for now,” Andrew said. He smoothed his sweaty hands on his jeans. “So, Clarisse eats, like, berries and seeds and crickets. And she really loves Junior Mints, but you have to put them in the refrigerator first. If you give them to her warm, she just drops them in the bottom of her cage, and that draws slugs.”

Lorne grimaced.

“So, are we Coolsville?” Andrew said. He squinted at Lorne.

Lorne knew it was no use resisting. He had officially become the bird-sitter.

Before leaving, Andrew knelt beside the cage.

“It’s okay, Clarisse,” he told her. “Lorne’s cool in a pointy green demon sort of way. Kind of like pistachio ice cream. Also, he wears strangely vibrant clothes with paisleys. You’ll like him.”

Clarisse pecked at him through the bars. “Bite me,” she said.

Andrew stood up, uncomfortably. “You too,” he mumbled.


William patrolled. Ignoring Buffy’s edict that they all pair off, he went it alone. What he wanted was good, old-fashioned Sherlocking followed by a man-to-vamp chat with Angel. William stopped by the Flat long enough to arm himself with his fancy Nephillim dagger before turning himself out to the brisk, autumny London streets.

With the comfortable weight of the blade beneath his fingertips, William made his rounds. He found the cemeteries disturbingly quiet. He didn’t know if it was paranoia due to his revelation at Rupert’s bedside, or if there was something with teeth in it. But the city seemed empty. Void of unlife. Calm, before a storm.
After his patrol turned up nothing, he ventured back toward the Flat, detouring, as he knew he would, to check in on the Royal London Hotel. He discovered Angel’s quaint Zen garden, its ridged plow-marks like soft-serve ice cream scattered with fallen leaves. The double doors into the ballroom had been barred. The place was dark.

Without his heightened vamp senses, William had to use his brain-mass to find the quickest, quietest way to determine whether or not Angel was present in the penthouse suite. Which meant, he was buggered.
William shrugged. He tore a bare ash sapling from the soil. He raised it over his head, ready to crash it through the glass doors.

But he drew short. He heard scuffling sounds. It was a brawl in the alley adjacent.

William looked heavenward. He mouthed, “Thank you.”


William found two vampires in the alley; one with a cricket bat, the other with a chain and padlock. Both seemed intent on clobbering a figure cowering beneath a fort of wooden pallets.

William sauntered in, sure to make as much noise with his boots as possible.

“Hardly seems sporting, two cats after one mouse,” he said. His voice bounced back at them from the rooftops.

The vampires, a bit miffed at the interruption, turned in accord to face him.

Even before they attacked William was bored. They were newbies to the vampire game. They relied on scare tactics to intimidate their prey. Flash of fangs and swagger routine had most people falling over themselves to get away. If that were the case, they wouldn’t even need the weapons in their hands to win.

That, however, was not the case.

William parried Padlock’s chain strike with his forearm. The links lashed around. He caught them, smoothly ripping them from the boy’s hand. The boy looked alarmed.

“Problem with you vampires,” William said. “You always jump right to the fighting.”

William tugged the boy forward. Cricket Bat had to sidestep, missing his chance at a shot. William brought his knee into Padlock’s underbelly. Then he head-butted him, squashing his nose like a stewed red pepper. Cricket Bat took a reluctant step backward.
Padlock cupped his squirting nose. Cricket Bat remained guarded. William swung, hoping to dust him, or drive him off. Both vampires lunged in. William thrust his dagger to its hilt into Cricket Bat’s eye. He reeled backward, taking the blade with him.
William swore. He shoved Padlock aside. Cricket Bat crumpled against the wooden palettes. Improvising, William pried a slat from a palette and hammered it down into Cricket Bat’s chest. The vampire disappeared in a puff of dust. The dagger dropped through the slats.

William scrambled for it. He heard Padlock’s footsteps grinding toward his back. A small hand seized the dagger, passing it to William. He gripped it just in time to slash blindly backward. It was a lucky stroke, but Padlock fell, headless, before disintegrating at William’s boot heels.

William stood up. He shook powdered vampire from his coat.

“You can come out now,” William said. “It should be safe.”

“I think I’ll stay down here awhile, if it’s all the same,” a voice answered.

“Hang on,” William said. He reached under the palettes to haul Andrew to his feet. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“They weren’t supposed to attack me,” Andrew said. He displayed the mark on his wrist like an FBI badge. “I’ve got protection.”

William chuckled. “You’ve got the mark of Kimaris,” he said. “Not exactly the same as protection.”

“But Nighna said...” Andrew protested.

William rolled his head back. “Oh, and demons are known all ’round for keeping their covenants. You are like a divining rod for evil, aren’t you?”

Andrew frumped. “I have to believe what she said.”

William stepped closer, leaning in to underscore his seriousness. “You were had by a demon,” he said. “End of story. You best get back home now, where you really are safe. Besides, Dawn needs you.”

“She does?” Andrew looked hopeful.

“Yeah. For translation purposes, since Willow’s out and Rupert’s hospitalized,” William said.

Andrew’s eyes widened. “That part was true? Nighna told me that,” he said. “Ergo, other things might also be true.”

William put his hands on his hips. “What part of ‘had by a demon’ are you not getting?”

Andrew continued to prattle. “Other things, like Thellian tricking the Slayers UK, and this ancient ceremonial blade used in a blood rite on the Circle. That’s what I was looking for when the Toothsome Duo attacked me,” he said.

“A blade?” William said, slowly. He resisted the urge to double-check the Nephillim knife in his pocket. “What sort of blade?”

Another voice answered. “It’s called the D’Ganti Blade.” It was Angel. William would know that voice anywhere.

William turned. Angel lingered at the mouth of the alley, knowing better what a mistake it was to let oneself get boxed in.

“You keep turning up in dark alleys, people are gonna start believing those vampire stereotypes,” William said. He moved slightly, putting himself between Angel and Andrew.

The corner of Angel’s mouth quirked into a grin. “Is that any way to talk to someone who’s trying to help you?”

William tilted his head. “No thanks. I’ve already got a sidekick.”

Andrew leaned in. He whispered, “I don’t think Buffy sees herself as a sidekick.”

William licked his teeth. He said, “You are the sidekick, Andrew.”

“Right,” he said. Andrew stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled back to scowl from a safe distance.

William’s ears perked up at the sound of an approaching motorbike.

“You expecting someone?” William asked.

Angel cocked his head. “Maybe. But they would be very early or very lost, turning up here,” he said.

William’s brow creased with concern. He cast a worried look over his shoulder at Andrew, who was now scowling so hard he looked as though he might sprain something. The bike had a high-powered whine to it – a sporty Japanese make, William knew, and not the burly grumble of the hog he had back in Sunnydale.

Half a minute later, a sleek black Ninja bearing two passengers zipped through Angel’s Zen garden, spraying white sand across the sidewalk. The bike spun out on the grass median and came to a fitful halt mere inches from Angel’s feet.

The Ninja’s driver pulled off his helmet and appraised Angel with an insolent sneer on his pouting cherub’s face. He ran a gloved hand through his choppy hair, making it even more stylishly spiky on top. William hated him immediately.

“Where’s my mates?” he said. He settled his squinting glare on Angel. “They was meeting us here. So where the hell are they?”

Angel was unamused. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.

The motorcyclist heaved a severe and condescending sigh. He said, “Oh, brill. American vampires.”

“I’m not American,” Angel said.

“I’m not a vampire,” William said.

“Spikey?” Her voice, muffled though it was under the helmet, was unmistakably grating.

“Oh bloody hell,” William said. “Harm.”

“Harmony,” Angel said. “Of course.”

Harmony pulled off her helmet. She had serious helmet-hair, and unlike her boyfriend, no amount of finger-combing was going to save it.

“Hey, boss,” she said. “Guess we’re a little… punctual. We finished our assignment in Amsterdam a bit early, so…”

“You’re my new secretary,” Angel said, chuckling. “Again, of course.”

“Harm,” the motorcyclist snapped. “You know these dobs?”

Harmony extracted herself from the bike. “Well, yeah. This is Angel. My boss. And that,” she said, pointing at William, “is Spike. He’s my… ex. And, oh my God. Aren’t you Tucker Wells’ brother?”

“Harmony,” Andrew said, bashfully kicking the dirt with the toe of his shoe. “You look good.”

Harmony beamed at him. “Guys. This is Dessie. We met in Scotland. I vamped him myself…”

“Harm!” Dessie snapped. “Sod the reunion. Where’s my mates?”

William took a step forward. “Were they two lads, about yea tall, one with a bat, the other with a chain?”

Dessie sneered. “Yeh,” he said.

“Oh, those two,” William said. “I dusted them.”

“You did what?” Dessie said, striding forward, full cockiness ahead. Harmony caught his arm.

“Believe me, baby. You don’t want to do that,” she said.

“Any why not?” Dessie said. He bowed up to William, chest out, gut in, nostrils flaring. “He said himself he ain’t a vampire.”

Angel crossed his arms, enjoying the show.

“Wait. How is that, Spikey? You were a vampire the last time we were together. I still have the bite marks,” Harmony said, hooking her fingers into pantomime fangs.

“So do I,” Andrew said, massaging his neck.

“He killed Stan and Jamie!” Des bellowed.

“Um, yeah. About that,” Harmony floundered.

“And he’ll kill you, too,” Angel said. “Trust me. Harmony will have to cart your ashes around in a Faberge urn.”

Dessie glared hard at Spike and then at Angel. He shook his arm free from Harmony’s hold, then strutted back to his bike.

Harmony fidgeted indecisively between staying behind with Angel or consoling her ego-bruised boyfriend.

“Strange bedfellows, eh Harm?” William said.

“You’re one to talk,” she said, lowering her eyelids.

“He’s no good for you,” William said, watching Dessie over Harmony’s shoulder. “It won’t end well.”

Harmony snitted. “Like you would know what’s good for me,” she said. She spun on her heel and stalked off to join Dessie.

Before slipping back into her helmet, she added, “See you tomorrow, boss.”

Dessie flicked down his visor, revved his engine and left them all in a cloud of exhaust.

“Cheeky bugger, that one,” William said.
Angel turned to him, all business. “You were looking for the blade,” he said. “You think it may be around here?”

“I cast a location spell, but it fizzled,” Andrew said. “And I got kinda lost, too. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

“Andrew,” William said. “Please stop talking.”

William paused. He considered Angel. His appearance seemed just too coincidental. It felt wrong. William said, “In fact, best you head on home now. No stops along the way, got it? Bad folks about tonight. Willow should be arriving home soon. You tell her all you know. Angel and I can look for the dagger.”

Andrew seemed less than convinced. He wobbled from one foot to the next, then said, “You sure, Spike? It seems kinda weird.”

“It’s fine, Andrew,” William said. “It’s Angel.”


“This is getting like an episode of '24',” Xander said. “No one’s getting any sleep or bathing or going to the bathroom.”

Dawn nodded. He noticed a lot of not laughing. He couldn’t see her expression. She was standing at the edge of the dining table, studying the Circle. It was as though she had never done anything before or after it came into their lives. In her hand, curled close to her shoulder, she held a commuter mug full of Maya’s Texas-grade black coffee.

Xander and Maya had just finished clearing away the dinner dishes for the meal that no one really touched. Maya, sensing Xander’s need for down-time with Dawn, remained behind in the kitchen, where she shredded all of their groceries receipts into confetti.
MK and Anjelica sat, almost crouched, across the room by the window in the dining room, as if they were posting a lookout. Neither had said that was what they were doing. It just seemed that instinct, combined with lack of rest, had set them to a weary kind of watchfulness.

“Anything new?” Xander asked.

“There must be something, you know?” she said. “I get the feeling that it’s right here. Everything we need is right here, but I just can’t figure it out.”

“You can, Dawnie,” Xander said. “If anyone can, it’s you.” He paused. He joined her at the table’s edge. “Still no word from the Lone Watcher?”

Dawn shifted uncomfortably. Anjelica glanced over her shoulder at them.

“You mean Andrew, of course,” Dawn said. “No. And that calls to mind all kinds of unpleasant scenarios. Along the lines of the brutal images Spike painted in the hospital.”

“But no, Dawn. Remember? Willow’s amulet of protection?”

“Didn’t work on Giles, did it?” Dawn said, more bitter than the coffee.

“Well,” Xander said. “He is alive. Attacked by vampires is a lot better than being turned into one.”

Dawn considered. Then, she said, “I just think that if this Thellian guy’s as ambitious and organized as Spike says, he would have found a way around Willow’s lucky charms.”

“Excuse me,” Maya said. Both Dawn and Xander jumped. She came in to the dining room all shrugs and apologies. “Sorry, but I just have to ask. What did Spike say about scary scenarios, again?”

Xander drew a deep breath. He said, “Basically, Spike thinks that Thellian’s up to his no-good vampire eyeballs building an army by preying on humans who are weak, vulnerable or otherwise powerless. He provides them with Marvel superhero strength and speed, not to mention the whole extended warranty of living forever.” Xander rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “And not to add nauseum to my ad nauseum, but Spike does have a good point.”

“Yeah,” Dawn said. “Seems extra plausible, considering. We can add in to the equation Thellian’s two thousand plus years of plan-time. No need to rush into anything if you have all of forever to hone those Machiavellian skills.”

“What’s his next move?” Anjelica asked. She leaned forward on the table, resting her chin in her hands. “What’s he planning?”

Dawn thoughtfully ground her teeth. She wished again for Andrew and Willow. Willow knew this stuff. She was the woman with the experience. And Andrew, well, he kept up morale. Or, at the very least, was like pounding your toe with a hammer when you had a headache. He annoyed her so much she usually forgot about the really bad stuff.

Since Dawn wasn’t taking the lead, Xander took a turn. “Okay,” he said. “Since we’re thinking down these rutted lanes, we need to think like an ancient evil creature of darkness. We already have Supervamps. Spike seems to think that we’re headlong into amassing the armies phase.”

“Take out the Slayers,” Anjelica piped up.

“What?” MK stirred like she was coming out of a dream.

Anjelica sat up in her seat. She looked at each one in turn, recognizing that they all shared MK’s sentiments.

“Thellian’s next step,” she repeated. “Take out Slayers. Then he’ll have no one to stop him.”





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