“Thank you. Please come spend your money here again.” Anya handed her last customer the shopping bag, and offered her a bright, capitalist smile. She escorted the older lady to the exit and closed the door after her.

Flipping the Open/Closed sign to Closed, she sighed. “You know, earning people’s money is really exhausting. All that false smiling and being nice--it would be so much easier if they came in, knew what they wanted, and gave me the money. All that browsing...” Her rant continued as she made her way her way to the till to count the day’s earnings.

Ignoring his girlfriend’s grumbling Xander walked over to the table that was situated on the store’s main floor. “So, does anyone know why Giles called this meeting?”

Putting a bottle of newt spleens back on the shelf, Buffy scrunched her nose. “No, he didn’t say anything. He usually gives me a general overview, like ‘we need to do research‘, or ‘there’s another big bad in town‘, but this time he just said ‘can’t go into details--just make sure everyone’s there by eight pm’. I bet you anything that it has to do with that phone call he got last night...”

“And what phone call would that be, pet?”

All heads turned to the back of the store to gape at the newest arrival.

Xander let out a irritated groan. “Great! It’s Spike! What the hell are you doing here?!”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy answered the vampire. “A phone call that’s none of your business, Spike. Just sit down and shut up until Giles gets here. I don’t know why he wanted you here for the meeting...”

Looking up from her homework for the first time, Willow cast a wary glance at the vampire; she jumped and let out a squeak when he sat down beside her, propping his feet on the table.

Spike looked at the young witch with a devilish grin. “Evenin’ Red. Hope you’re not still bitter about the bottle incident. I was a bit despondent--wasn’t quite my usual charming self.”

Willow’s face took on a bright tinge of pink. “Oh no! I’m over that!” Nervous laugh. “I don’t cringe anymore when I see bottles--no bottle phobia for me...” She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Truth was, she still hadn’t completely gotten over the incident that had taken place a year before. Being kidnapped by a sociopath, sorrow-stricken vampire and being threatened by said vampire with a broken bottle takes some getting over. And it wasn’t like she could attend a few therapy sessions, either. With her tale of slayers, vampires and witches, she’d more than likely be given a good dose of happy juice and sent to Sunnydale Psychiatric.

Spike grinned widely and slapped her on the back. “Good to hear that, Red. No hard feelings, then?”

“Oh, no. None at all. Just like it never happened. Uh, I have to go to the bathroom now...” She gave him a nervous smile and ran away.

Anya’s ears perked up to Willow’s last words. “Hey! The facilities are for buying customers only!”

Xander sighed. “Ahn, let it go...”

The ex-demon ignored his tone, pushing the topic further. “You know, just because the store’s closed, it doesn’t mean that we have to throw all rules out the window, Xander. When was the last time Willow actually bought something? She just hangs around at meetings, using...”

Her lecture was cut short by the jingle of the bell hanging above the door, signalling the Watcher’s arrival.

Rupert Giles scanned the room, relieved to see that everyone was in attendance. He had his doubts as to whether or not Spike could be convinced to attend, but he’d assumed that the vampire’s curiosity would ensure his presence.

“I’m glad that you’re all here. I’ve some... news that I need to share with you.” He removed his glasses and wiped the lenses before placing them back on the bridge of his nose. “And before any of you ask,” he caught most of them with their mouths open, “yes, this meeting is related to the phone call I received yesterday.”

All mouths but one snapped shut.

“Will someone please share what this bloody phone call is all about? Everyone seems to know about it but me.” Spike’s tone took on a more whiny inflection. “I’m always left out of these bleedin’ revelations...”

“Don’t worry, Spike. You‘re about to catch up.” He cleaned his glasses again, and took a seat.

***

“Yesterday, as most of you know, I received a phone call. What you don’t know was that it was from Quentin Travers. It seems that we’re faced with yet another potential apocalypse.”

Xander groaned. “Why apocalypses? Why doesn’t the Council ever call to let us know something fun, like ‘Hey guys, the circus is coming to town!’. Nah, it’s always got to be about the end of the world.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Will you just shut up and let the man talk?”

Grateful for the vampire’s intervention, Giles continued. “Er, thank you, Spike. As I was saying, the Council has uncovered a prophecy that has been put in motion, not to end the world, but to alter it.”

Now he had the Scoobies undivided attention.

“Thousands of years ago, a key was created that would allow the opening of trans-dimensional portals. Now, before you interrupt,” he glanced pointedly at both Spike and Anya, who were rolling their eyes, “I am well aware that objects used for inter-dimensional travel aren‘t rare; however, this key has very special properties. It isn’t used to travel from one dimension to another--it’s used to make one dimension accessible to many other dimensions.”

He looked at the faces before him, and saw that he needed to explain further. Blank stares and raised eyebrows were never a sign that one was well understood.

“What this means is that if someone opens this portal here on earth, beings from hundreds, maybe even thousands, of other dimensions will have access to our own dimension.”

Anya was the one to break the silence. “But... but that key is supposed to be a legend. It doesn’t really exist. I’ve heard about it, in demon circles, but it was like a fairytale or something...”

“Well, Anya, I assure you that it is far from a fairytale. The key is very real, and is now in the hands of some people who plan on using it, earth be damned.”

Ever the pragmatic one of the group, Buffy shared her solution with the group. “Well, we have to find this key and destroy it. That’s the beginning, the middle, and the end of the story, isn’t it, Giles?”

Her Watcher cleared his throat. “Well... no. It’s not quite that easy, Buffy. You see, the key isn’t exactly really a key.”

Spike’s patience was nearing its limit. He’d never had the attention span for all the planning and background work that came with most plans. He was more a man of action. Walk into a room, guns blazing... that was more his style. Truth be told, however, he wasn’t planning on taking this prophecy lightly. If the Watcher called an emergency meeting, asked for him to attend, and mentioned the high council of wankers, things had to be pretty scary.

“Ok, Watcher, I‘ll play your game. When is a key not a key? When it’s... Come on, Rupes, fill in the blank for us non-Watcher types, will ‘ya?”

Giles removed his glasses, and put the earpiece in his mouth.

“Yes, well, the monks who created the key needed to put it in a form that would make it more difficult to find. You see, those who would use it for nefarious purposes would be looking for an actual key, something that resembles what we all have on our key chains.” To demonstrate this, he pulled his house keys out of his pants pocket and held them up for all to see. “However, a key that opens portals doesn’t exist in a tangible form. Rather, it’s made of energy. What the monks have done is given this energy a form that no one will have expected.”

Feeling brave, Xander piped up. “So what you’re saying is that this key could be anything. It could be some old lady’s refrigerator, it could be that pencil that Spike keeps tapping on the table, or it could have been the Lucky Charms I had for breakfast...” At this last point, a look of terror came over his features. “Oh my God! I might have eaten the key for breakfast!”

Annoyed with the young man’s dimwitted conclusion, Spike cuffed him upside the head.

“Oh, please! The monks wouldn’t turn the key to a portal into something that a stupid git like you could eat for breakfast. I can’t believe that the lot of you have foiled my every plan.” He rose from his seat, and began to pace.

“Use your brains here, folks. It would have to be in form that could be easily accessible to those who keep an eye on it, but it would have to be easy to move around. Can’t be a bloody refrigerator--how would they move that at a moment’s notice?” At this point, he seemed more to be thinking out loud than actually addressing any of the others. “It could be a book, but that’s been done so many times--it would be too obvious. The only other logical thing would be...”

He stopped short so suddenly he almost toppled over. “Bloody hell!” He turned to Giles as if they were the only two people in the room. “They’ve turned it into a human!”

Now it was Giles’ turn to be surprised. He had argued against Travers’ insistence that Spike be involved. He was not to be trusted, he was dangerous, hell--he’d tried to kill them all on several occasions. What he had not counted on was Spike’s intelligence. Of course, if he thought about it, the bleached vampire couldn’t have survived as long as he had--while caring for an insane girlfriend--without being able to think two steps ahead of everyone else.

Council: 1, Rupert Giles: 0.

Oh, well. Can’t bloody win them all, can I? The Watcher cleared his throat, and spoke up.

“Very well done, Spike. That’s precisely what the monks have done. When Council members learned that the child of the prophecy was to be brought to this world, er... born, I should say, they sought it out, in the hopes of reaching it first.”

“But they didn’t, did they?” Buffy was beginning to see where this was headed. She didn’t like it one bit; this wasn’t going to be good for Buffy Summers...

The Watcher’s gaze fell to the floor. “No, they did not. When they arrived at the child’s home they found its entire family slaughtered. Mother, Father and a sister bludgeoned to death. The child was nowhere to be found.”

Everyone gasped, except for Spike and Anya--they’d both seen this kind of thing before and weren‘t surprised.

Tears in her eyes, Willow spoke up for the first time. “Do... do they know who did this? I mean, the Council must know who took the baby, doesn’t it?”

“No. I’m afraid this is where we come in. Travers has requested our help in helping them find the child, and whomever is responsible for having kidnapped it.” He took a deep breath, expectant of an outburst.

“He has requested, in particular, Buffy and Spike’s assistance...”

Both Slayer and Vampire rose at once. “What?”

Buffy scoffed. “I’m not helping them--I quit! Do they think I forgot about when they locked me up, defenceless, with some crazy-ass vampire? I sure as hell haven’t forgotten that one. They can find someone else, because I‘m having nothing to do with this.”

Spike, for once, had to agree with his counterpart. “She’s right, mate. Council’s got nothing on us. They’re the ones with a world of resources, let them deal with it. Don’t bloody know why they need me, anyway...”

Giles had anticipated their reaction. Why should they agree to the Council’s request? Buffy owed them nothing; they‘d always treated her like simple chattel. She was no more than a tool in their fight against evil. And Spike? What allegiance does a vampire owe the Council of Watchers? Its main purpose is to eradicate his kind--his reaction to brush off their request was dead on.

However, it was important for both of them to go through with this; as corny as it sounded, the world depended on them.

The Watcher cleared his throat. “Buffy, I understand that you would be... leery... of assisting the Council in any matter. I don’t blame you for the animosity you hold against them. However, this isn’t just between yourself and the Council. If whoever has the child is successful in fulfilling the prophecy, the whole world will pay. Every man, woman and child on earth will be faced with untold suffering. You are the Slayer--it is your calling to help keep the world safe from unnatural forces. You can’t let grudges keep you from doing your job.”

Buffy‘s shoulders slumped, primarily at having been properly chastised, but mainly at having let her emotions get the best of her. Giles was right. If she refused to help just because she wanted to feel the joy in telling the Council to ‘stick it’, who knows what the outcome would be. What would happen to her mom? What about Willow, Xander and Anya? No, she couldn’t refuse for selfish reasons.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Nodding in Spike’s direction, she asked: “Now what’s the story behind him?”

The vampire chimed in “Yeah, what do they want with me? Can’t bloody expect me to help them, can they?”

“Actually, Spike, they do. Just hear me out, and you’ll see that it will be in your favour to assist us in this task.” Giles paused, and when he saw that Spike didn’t intend to interrupt, he continued. “First of all, you’ve already made it clear, when you helped us against Angel in his attempt to call forth Acathla, that you have an attachment to the world and its status quo. Something about ‘happy meals on legs’, if I recall...”

Spike’s poker face remained steadfast. He motioned with his hand for the Watcher to continue.

“Also, and I think this might be the part that catches your interest, you can expect an all-expenses paid trip back to the mother country. Airfare, lodging, food... The Council is willing to fund your travels. And last, but not least, you’ll get to expect, as you’d put it, ‘a good spot of violence’.” Satisfied with his argument, Giles sat back in his chair and waited for Spike’s decision.

As good as the Watcher’s points were Spike was still sceptical. “That’s all lovely, Rupes, but what does the Council want in return? I doubt I’m bein’ asked to act as tour guide for the Slayer...”

“To be honest, Spike, of all the individuals the Council has access to, you’re the one with the best knowledge of England’s demon underground, with the best contacts. You, and I’m quoting Travers on this, “are pivotal to the success of this endeavour“.”

Spike stood up and walked slowly towards the bookshelves, duster billowing behind him. He stopped in front of one of the shelves and slid his fingers across the titles on a number of books, as if searching for something specific. To no one in particular, he spoke. “I’ll expect nothing less than first class tickets for the plane, five star hotels and a limitless credit card. If you can promise me those three things, Watcher, I’m in.”

Author's Note: Well, now there's a bit of action and things will be moving along at a quicker pace. Sorry if this hasn't been Spuffy enough yet, but it's a longer story than I usually write. But take my word for it, this is a Spuffy story and the juicy bits *are* there. And, again, please review; it helps me gauge whether or not anyone's actually enjoying this. (a big thanks to thow who reviewed ch. 4).