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And we are all caught up! Thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed.
“So,” Giles began as he backed his car out of the driveway, “do you have any idea as to what she is planning?”

Methos grinned. “All I know for sure is that I’m glad it’s not me she is going after. When she gets her hands on them…” he trailed off and shrugged, “it won’t be pretty.”

“I see.” Giles stated in a tone that clearly indicated that he did not. After a sideways glance at Methos he asked, “I assume your compatriots are no longer in town?”

Giving Giles a startled look and wry grin Methos answered, “Nah, they bailed earlier this afternoon. Mac gets paranoid if he is gone too long. Thinks things will fall apart without him being there to get into trouble. ‘Manda went with him to try and keep him out of trouble…” he trailed off and laughed before continuing, “but knowing her, they’ll just get into even bigger trouble.”

“And the other? Cassandra I believe her name is?” Giles asked.

“She’s in LA, checking something out for Mother. She should be back soon.” Methos thought for a moment and then asked, “Why?”

“No specific reason really,” Giles answered, almost distractedly, “just curious I guess.”

“Curious about what?” Methos prodded.

“Well, how the whole immortal thing works, for starters.” Giles replied with a self-depreciating laugh. “I can’t help it really; it must be the watcher in me.”

Methos let out a chuckle. “Yeah, I can see how the watcher instincts will tend to take over more rational thought processes. But, I’ll try and answer your questions…” he trailed off as they approached Giles’ place and noticed the front door open. “Did you leave the door open?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I locked it.” Giles thought for a moment, while pulling up into his parking space. “Maybe Spike beat us here and just left it open?”

“While I’m pretty sure a snail could beat this car of yours, Spike doesn’t strike me as the sort of person to leave doors open.” Methos said as he climbed out of the car.

“No, he’s rather a stickler about such matters.” Giles stated as he too exited the vehicle. “Maybe I didn’t close it tight and the wind blew it open…” Giles reached for the door to push it open wider but was halted by Methos’ hand on his arm.

“Better let me go in first, just in case. After all, if someone is in there and intending bodily harm, I won’t end up dead.” Methos said as he gently brushed past Giles and opened the door.


Spike trudged his way through the underground tunnel system connected to Sunnydale’s sewers. “Wonder if Rupes still has that bottle of single malt I bought him.” Stifling a laugh as he remembered the look on Giles’ face that night, he muttered to himself, “Thought the old boy was gonna have a coronary.” Spike stopped as a slight sound reached his ears from a side tunnel just up a head. “Wonder who else will be taking the low road this evening…” He cautiously walked forward and found himself face to crossbow with a figure dressed in tweed. “Well well, if it isn’t a part of the wanker brigade.”

“Silence demon. You don’t have the right to speak to me,” the crossbow wielding man said in a stiff British accent. “The only thing you have the right to do is die.”

“I see,” Spike said with a grin. “You do realize that you might have had a better chance of killing me if you had actually, oh… SURPRISED ME. Instead of waiting in the dark where anyone with any sense of hearing could locate you, like the complete wanker you are.” As he said this, Spike knocked the crossbow upwards, and lashed out at the man holding it.

“You won’t stop us. Even if you kill me, our mission will be completed,” the man said gasping for air as he took the brunt of Spike’s punch in the center of his chest.

Spike wrenched the crossbow out of the man’s hands and closed his fingers around his throat. “What mission?” he growled.

The man remained silent, smirking in a rather annoying way.

“Well, I suppose I’ll just kill you and be on my way then,” Spike snarled as he vamped out, baring his fangs. Spike growled menacingly as he leaned in towards the man’s neck.

“Giles!” the man yelled. “We were sent to remove you and the renegade watcher.”

“What the soddin’ hell do you mean ‘renegade’,” Spike snarled. “Rupes has done everything you bloody wankers asked of him, including stopping more than one ‘end of the world’ scenario, WITHOUT your bloody help I might add.”

“Yeah, he did. Everything except rid the world of YOU,” the man choked out.

Snarling in full-blown anger, Spike shoved the man away from him and into the cement wall of the tunnel, rendering him unconscious. Spinning around, his duster swirling dramatically, Spike ran down the tunnel in the direction of Giles’ apartment. “If anything happens to Giles, I’ll bloody well take down the Council myself…” Spike muttered to himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy stomped down the stairs to the basement, grumbling under her breath about idiotic men and their tendency to stick together in an effort to piss her off. Tossing her duffle on the bed, she stormed into the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it would go.

Stripping Spike’s black t-shirt off over her head, she stepped under the scalding spray of the shower. Buffy sighed in relief as she let the heat penetrate her entire body. “Oh, that feels so damned good, I could stay in here all day… or at least until the hot water runs out.” Realizing that the water would start turning colder soon, Buffy began washing herself with the same body wash she had used the night before.

After completing her cleansing ritual, Buffy shut off the rapidly cooling water and exited the bathroom. Padding naked into the bedroom, she gave a tendon popping stretch and groaned loudly. “Nothing like an extremely hot shower to get the blood pumping.” Fishing a silver-backed brush out of her bag, Buffy set the task of brushing out her wet hair.

While doing her hair, Buffy thought about the image she wanted to portray for the little retrieval she was going to do. “Do I want to do the ‘haughty priestess’ or the ‘pissed off warrior’?”



Joyce started down the stairs to the living room, with Dawn right on her heels. “Now remember pumpkin, if you are coming with me to the gallery, you will have to keep your hands, and your fingers, off the displays.”

“But Mom, I’m not as clumsy as I was last time!” Dawn protested.

“Last time was last week, young lady. Now, will you promise me, or do I call Willow and Tara to come watch you?” Joyce asked with a half-smile on her face.

“I promise…” Dawn said sullenly. “But I CAN look at things right? And maybe help you unpack some of the non-breakable things? Please?” she begged.

“We’ll see,” Joyce said. “Depends on how well you mind me.”

I’ll be good, I’ll be very good. No touching anything you say not to.” Dawn promised feverishly.

“Well, let’s go. I have a lot of work to do,” Joyce said as she picked up her keys. “Lock the door dear, and hurry up.”

Dawn pulled the door shut behind her as she followed her mother out to the Jeep. With a laugh, she and a bounce she looked forward to spending the day with her mother, and maybe coming up with a way to keep Buffy in Sunnydale for a long time.


Having decided to go with a combination of the two looks, Buffy pulled her hair into a high ponytail, leaving the ends free to trail down her back. Pulling a small box out of the bottom of her bag, she opened it and sighed. “I really don’t like putting this stuff on…” Lifting out a slender silver circlet set with a dark red stone, she placed it on her head, centering the stone in the middle of her forehead.

Extracting a roll of ebon silk, Buffy shook it out and spread it across the bed. “Gotta love spider silk…,” she muttered quietly, “it doesn’t wrinkle.” Looking around for her boots, she located them beside the dresser where Spike had placed them earlier. “Now let’s see…,” she said thoughtfully. “Pants are out, they just don’t go with the skirt, but I will need stockings under the boots.”

Grabbing a black thong panty from the bag, along with a pair of sheer stockings, Buffy slipped into them and thought for a moment. “Nah, no bra…” she glanced down at herself and shrugged. “Not like I need one anyway.”

Sitting herself down on the bed, she laced herself into the thigh-high, black leather, stiletto boots. Giggling to herself at the thought of what Spike would say if he saw her dressed like this, she dug around in the bag for her set of matching boot-knives. Slipping them into the sheaths built into her boots, she reached back into the bag for what looked like a pile of silver links, along with a wide black belt and some wicked looking silver stars.

Standing up, Buffy wrapped the ebon silk around herself, fashioning a long dress reminiscent of a Greek chiton. Using her sword belt to hold it closed, she fussed with the drape of the fabric until it suited her. Picking up the pile of silver links, she shook it out, taking care not to tangle the delicate-seeming construction. Being careful not to snag her hair, or the fabric of her gown, she slipped the silver construction over her head, where it settled across her upper body and draped down to her thighs, a light chain mail shirt wrought of delicate silver.

Settling the wide belt around her waist, using it to hold the chain mail in place, she proceeded to fasten the silver stars to the tiny hooks that dotted the belt at evenly spaced intervals. Buffy ran one slender finger along the edge of the last star, and grinned when she sliced open her finger. Placing this last star in it proper place, she picked up her sword, and slid it into the sheath on her back.

As she left the room, Buffy grabbed two last items. One was a roll of parchment that she tucked into the top of her right boot. The other was a long, black, hooded cape, which she fastened around her shoulders, drawing up the hood. “Looks like its show time.” Buffy said in a grim tone of voice. Then she smiled, “Oh I am so gonna enjoy this.”

Closing her eyes, Buffy summoned forth the part of her being that she seldom used, the part that is the child of the Dragon, with all the powers it entailed. Silver scales erupted along her cheekbones and above her eyebrows. They also patterned the backs of her hands, as her nails took on a decidedly deadly ruby hue. With a last look around, and a satisfied smirk on her face, Buffy shifted out of the human realm, into the realm of those that called themselves the Powers That Be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Methos cautiously pushed open the door to Giles’ apartment, straining his senses to see if he could hear anything from within. Just as he turned back to tell Giles the coast seemed to be clear, a shot rang out, and he collapsed as a bullet passed through his chest.

Spike erupted from the manhole in front of the apartment block, just in time to hear the sound of gunfire coming from the direction of Giles’ home. Putting on a burst of speed, he reached the doorway just in time to see Methos collapse. Swearing loudly, he yanked Giles back, pushed him off to one side, then kicked open the door, and let out an angered snarl. “Show yourself you cowardly wanker. “It’s not like I can’t SMELL you. You reek of fear and dishonesty.” Spike growled as he strode into the apartment. “On second thought, don’t bother; hunting you down will make the blood taste all the sweeter when I rip out your throat.”

“Spike, quit your posturing and help me before he bleeds to death.” Giles shouted from outside the apartment. Kneeling beside Methos’ body, he attempted to staunch the blood-flow.

“Don’t bother Rupert.” Methos whispered raggedly. “I’ll be fine, just give me a moment.”




Joyce pulled her Jeep into her parking spot in the alley behind the gallery. “Now remember your promise young lady. No touching the displays.”

Dawn gave a small sigh and an eye roll as she murmured her assent. “I know Mom. I know. You’ve kept reminding me on the way over. Not like I’ve had a chance to forget!”

“Mind your manners, Dawn. Or you can sit in the office and stare at the wall.” Joyce said with an exasperated tone in her voice. “Come on, I’ve got a lot of work to do, and sitting here isn’t getting it done.” Joyce exited the vehicle and made her way to the back door of the gallery to unlock it, waiting for her daughter before she went inside.

“What do we do first? Unpack the crates? Dust? Ohhh I wanna dust!” Dawn practically bounced with excitement.

“Since both of those involve touching potentially breakable pieces, no.” Joyce said with a small laugh. “But what you can do is help me with the paperwork before we look at the crates. Okay?”

Dawn sighs dramatically, as only a teenage girl can. “Okay.”



Spike stalked forward, his demon reveling in the scent of fear that was swiftly filling his senses. He leaned over the counter separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, and chortled with glee as he encountered the cowering tweed-clad form of the gunman. “Well lookie here, see what I’ve found.” Spike said as he leapt over the counter and grabbed the man by the throat. “I think I’ve found our wanna-be assassin, Rupes.”

Giles entered his home, assisting Methos who was still a little out of it. “That’s good then.” He gently placed Methos on the couch and fixed a glare on the man Spike was holding. “Care to tell me what this is all about?”

The man garbled something unintelligible and raised a shaky hand to point the gun at Giles.

Spike casually reached out his other hand and ripped the gun out the man’s hand, snapping his wrist in the process. “None of that now, mate. The man asked you a question, and it would be in your best interests to answer him.”

Tossing an exasperated look at Spike, Giles gently reminded him, “He can’t speak with you cutting off his air.”

Looking at the man he was holding, Spike chuckled at the decidedly bluish cast to the man’s features. “Right, got any ropes to tie the wanker up with then? Or do you just want me to bust his legs so he can’t walk?”

Methos let out a short bark of laughter. “As satisfying as it would be to watch him writhe in pain when you break his legs, I think we should just sit him down and ask him a few questions.” He rose to his feet and glared at the man who had shot him. “You ruined a 200$ sweater you berk.”

Spike dragged the man out of the kitchen and forcefully planted him in one of the dining chairs. Standing behind him, Spike kept his hands on the gunman’s shoulders, effectively holding him in place. “Well then, what shall we do with him, gents?

Giles took off his glasses and grinned a decidedly Ripper-like grin. “Why don’t we find out why he’s here first, and then decide what to do with him?”

Spike snarled in repressed anger. “Already know why he’s here old man. Ran into his buddy in the sewers, found out the Council sent them here to kill us.”

“Now why would the Council send a couple of idiots like these to kill the two of you?” Methos asked with a puzzled frown. “I thought you worked for the Council?”

“We do. Or at least I do,” Giles said with a frown. “Maybe they are renegades?” He looked at Spike to see if he had a different opinion.

“Talked to one that tried to ambush me in the sewers. He was right talkative, told me all kinds of interesting things. Like how you are considered a renegade and that you refused orders to kill me.” Spike said with a smirk. “They seem to think that the fact of me helping you stop a couple of apocalypses, and keeping you alive in the bargain, makes you a baaaaad watcher.”


Methos glanced between the two Englishmen with a frown on his face. “Wait a minute, you are telling me that they sent these guys to kill you, because Spike is helping you instead of killing you?” He scratched his chest where the bullet had entered, a thoughtful look on his face. “Has it occurred to you that maybe they sent you to the Hellmouth to die Rupert?”

Giles nodded in understanding. “Actually, yes it had occurred to me, about the time they informed me that “one old vampire” trying to escape his underground imprisonment didn’t warrant the attentions of a Slayer.”

Spike broke in with a disgruntled laugh. “Never mind that the “old vampire” was the Master himself, trying to open the sodding Hellmouth to release some old deity.”

Methos blinked in astonishment, “Master… as in Nest? Heinrich Nest?” He barely waited for the answer to that question before asking another. “Are they out of their fucking minds?”

Spike laughed derisively, “Yeah, they must be. ‘Cause they are seriously pissing me off.”

“Not what I meant, Spike.” Methos said shaking his head. “When Mother hears about this, heads are gonna roll.”





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