A/N: Let's begin here. Here's Your Accordion, a Buffy the Vampire Slayer SI fic, written when I was younger and thought I was much cooler than I actually was.

In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.

.oOo.

"Willow!" I called as I saw the girl ahead of me in the corridor. I hadn't seen her last night, since she went home right after finishing up some project at the library – I wasn't sure exactly what said project was, but it had Giles in a snit, so I'd stayed clear until it was all done. "Hey, wait up a moment."

It only took me that moment to reach her through the pack of students, although she didn't wait. "Willow? Buffy to Willow come in, over?"

"Oh!" she squeaked. "Buffy, I didn't even see you."

"Indeed?" I said solemnly. "Serious thoughts on your mind, girlfriend. Always in motion your thoughts are… since last night, I sense."

Willow stared at me. "That's amazing. Is that your -" She lowered her voice. "- Slayer senses?"

I grinned. "No. I tried calling you last night, but your line was always busy. That plus your current distraction… well just call me Sherlock."

She smiled again, shyly even by her standards and hid her face from me as she opened her locker. "Well… I sort of met someone."

"Someone?" I asked. "Must be quite a someone. When did you meet… him?" She nodded. "Him." I hmmed. "Fess up, Willow."

"Last week when I was doing the scanning project in the library," she said, closing up the locker.

"Oh, someone from the project?" I asked. "But you'd not met him before, or not met him as in girl meets boy anyway…?" Oz was vaguely around although I don't think he and Willow were close until next year. He was in computer science classes too so he might have been in this project of hers.

"Oh, Malcolm's not at this school," Willow said, obliterating that theory. "He's very nice."

"A very nice young man. In Sunnydale? Wow, I can see why you're keeping this under your hat."

"Well I wasn't sure there was anything to tell," she admitted as we walked towards her next class, speeding up to a near babble of enthusiasm. "But last night, oh! We talked all night, it was amazing. He's so smart, Buffy, and, and he's romantic, and we agree about everything!"

.oOo.

"Uh, Willow," I said carefully. "I'm glad you've met a nice guy, but remember: this is the internet, where men are men, women are men, and children are FBI agents waiting to get you. Try to find out a little more about him before you fall head over heel -"

"'I'm thinking of you too!'" she bubbled, looking at the screen. "No, that's incredibly stupid!"

"And last night I visited the tutti fruiti men from Jupiter," said I, testing the theory that she wasn't listening to me at all.

"Wait, what?" she asked. Theory, failed.

.oOo.

"I need to speak to the Principal," Dave insisted.

"He's dead, Dave," I said.

Geek boy paled. "Dead?" he squeaked.

"Why don't we talk about that," I said very evenly.

.oOo.

Now, as you might imagine, during my thus far short but successful career as a vampire slayer I have encountered many terrible things and endured many awful experiences. In fact, I may have mentioned one or two of them to you. Thus I felt a great swell of sympathy for Giles as Cordelia tried to sing.

Now, I admit there's an element of throwing stones here – I can't carry a tune in a bucket. When I tried to join the choir at school when I really was a kid, I was granted the awesome responsibility of turning the pages of music for the teacher at the piano, on the condition I kept my mouth shut. But that just means I have experience of bad singing. And Cordelia was really really bad.

"Thank you, Cordelia," Giles managed with a straight face. "Tha-that's going to be lovely."

"But I didn't do the part with the sparklers!" she protested.

"And well you shouldn't," I called from behind Giles, startling him considerably. "Burning down buildings is my gig, Cordy and you should be ashamed of yourself for trying to steal it." Then I smiled sweetly. "But never mind, I'll forgive you."

Cordelia glared at me. "Don't you have a damp rock to hide under, Summers?"

I grinned and brandished a book. "Uh-uh. I'm here for the talent show."

"We'll save the sparklers for the dress rehearsal, Cordelia," Giles said placatingly. "Uh, Lisa! Your turn!"

Cordelia flounced off the stage and Lisa came on with a tuba. "So, how's life as the great producer?" asked Jesse as he and Xander sat in the row behind Giles. Willow had taken a seat in front and to one side, so I sat next to Giles.

"Had to see this to believe it," Xander added.

"Oh," Giles responded in a dispirited voice. "Thank you."

"Not going well?" I asked. "How'd you get stuck with this?"

"Our new Fuhrer, Mr. Snyder," the librarian replied.

"I think they call 'em 'Principals' now," Willow teased him.

Giles grunted. "He thought it would behoove me to have more contact with the students. I did try to explain that my vocational choice of librarian was a deliberate attempt to…" He sighed. "Minimise that contact, but, uh, he would have none of it."

"Unto every generation is born one who must run the annual talentless show," Jesse pontificated. I chuckled somewhat reluctantly. It was fairly funny after all, even if it was picking on Giles. Hardly sporting, really.

"If you had any shred of decency, you would have participated, or at least, um, helped," Giles retorted.

"Why Giles," I said in surprise. "Whyever do you think I'm here?"

Jesse looked puzzled. "I thought we were here to watch."

"And mock," Xander added.

"And laugh," Willow concluded. The three of them laughed.

I waited for them to finish. "Well I'm certainly going to have a go. I admit I wasn't planning to offer help, but if there is something you need a hand with…"

.oOo.

I've really got to get some sort of Batsignal that Giles can send me anytime he discovers there's an unexplained corpse on campus. Or an explained corpse for that reason. Of course, if Xander and Jesse picked it I'd be wearing a little coffin-shaped wristwatch that vibrated every time Giles pressed a button in the library, so I really shouldn't mention the need to them.

In this case, the scene of the crime was the girl's locker room again. I felt quite nostalgic. That was the first place a dead body turned up when I arrived in Sunnydale. Somehow when random students die on TV it's not quite the same as realising that wherever I am in relation to home includes parents to mourn the girl who died and classmates who get just a little more jaded and indifferent to each other every time a seat opens up in class. Why make friends with someone when there's a very good chance that they'll wind up dead by the time you graduate. Save yourself the emotional pain by not getting involved.

Damn, I'm getting maudlin. I don't need this.

"It was Emily," Giles reported once he'd gotten clear of the police tape across the entrance to the lockerroom.

"Emily?" Willow asked in a small voice. "Dancer Emily?"

"Oh man! I hate this school," Xander protested.

"Yes." I'm not sure whether it was Jesse or I who spoke first and we shot each other bleak glances as the conversation continued.

"Uh, it must have happened just after, uh, dress rehearsals," Giles told us. "There was a cross-country meet at Melville. She, she, she never showed up for it."

"Was it a vampire?" Jesse asked seriously.

Giles shook his head. "Um, I think not."

"Because…?"

He sighed. "Her heart was removed."

"Yikes!" Willow exclaimed.

"Exotic," I conceded. "Any particular reasons for that springing to mind?"

"Uh, there are various demons which, which feed off human hearts," Giles said, looking back at the locker room where a knife I took to be the murder weapon was being bagged by the forensics team. "But…"

"They wouldn't want or need to use a knife?" I suggested.

"Precisely. I don't suppose your dreams are coming up with anything?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing since last time. All I have is jigsaws. Make of that what you will."

"Well if they used a knife then I guess we're probably talking about a human," Jesse said. "All together now:"

"I hate this school," Xander, Jesse and I chorused to Giles and Willow.

"The evidence certainly points to a human culprit," Giles agreed.

"Let's not jump to any conclusions though," I cautioned. "Remember Amber? We thought spontaneous human combustion…"

"And it turned out to be a witch," Willow ended. "So you think it could be demon?"

"We're on the Hellmouth," I shrugged. "Right now I'm not ruling out little green men from Mars. Human is probably a good option but it wouldn't hurt to keep our options open. What if a demon is using a knife to try to conceal supernatural involvement? By the laws of averages there have to be some Demons with IQs above room temperature."

.oOo.

There was a knock on my doorframe and I looked up from my book to see Joyce aka 'Mom' walk in. "Hi, hon. How's it, uh, going with the talent show?"

I shrugged and closed the book. "Apart from the general lack of talent in the school? Not so bad. I don't know how well Willow will manage though. She gets stagefright apparently."

"Oh?" Joyce asked. "What's she going to be doing?"

"A dramatic reading," I said as Dawn joined us. "Her, Xander and Jesse are doing it together – on orders from the new Principal. Xander said they were doing that because it wouldn't actually require them to have any talent."

"It can't be that bad!" Joyce laughed. "I, for one, am looking forward to seeing your act."

"Me too," chimed in Dawn.

"You're going?" I said, slightly surprised. "It might go on a bit late," I pointed out with a nod to Dawn.

"Well, Dawn's grades have been good so she deserves a treat. And we wanna support what you're doing."

"How is seeing me singing going to be a treat," I asked mildly. Then I saw her smirk and the penny dropped. "Ah, you're expecting to see me fu… er, mess up?" Joyce glared at me for the slip. "I'll do my best to deny you that," I warned my sister, with an affectionate grin.

.oOo.

"You know," he said. "With everything that's been going on recently, I'm not sure how safe it is for a girl like yourself to be here… alone."

"Well, with everything that's been going on not-so-recently, I'm not sure how safe it is for a teacher like yourself to be here… alone," I replied. "Losing two Principals in a single month would be dreadfully untidy."

Snyder stared at me, then nodded slowly. "Alright then," he said and walked away.

"Now what's gotten into him?" I wondered out loud.

.oOo.

I couldn't see all that much out in the crowd as I stood on the stage. As you may have noticed, I've inherited most purely physical qualities from Buffy… not those ones, you perves… well, not just them. Ahem. Anyway, one of those is singing – which I had no voice for prior to winding up in bleached-blondeland.

So there I was, holding a microphone stand in one hand, looking out into a crowd that I mostly could not see. The music was playing on a tapedeck behind the scenery at the side of the stage, feeding into the sound system. Now all I had to do was remember the lyrics.

~"Could you ever steal a prayer to deny your God / Could you ever buy your love and not count the cost / Could you ever take a life when all was lost / And would it ever be enough?"~

The song wasn't written for a woman to sing – but that just meant that I was making it my own. So there I stood, trying to remind myself that slaying vampires was far more frightening than the rather sizeable audience. I'd probably have felt considerably less vulnerable if Joyce hadn't dug out something she said was suitable for torch-singing. I'm not sure what torch-singing was, or why she thought a Def Leppard song fell into that category but I was quite sure that pretty as the dress was, I must look fairly foolish in it. Xander and Jesse both seemed to think so, they barely took their eyes of me, and it would take something fairly outlandish for them to react like that to little old me.

~"Could you bite the hand that feeds you, then ask for more / Could you kiss the wound that bleeds, spit it on the floor / Could you open up your heart, then close the door / And would it ever be enough?"~

At the back of the room, I saw a door open, spilling light into the aisle. Standing in the light was a dark-haired man… no, not a man. A vampire. Angel stood there, watching me sing and I could almost swear that I saw a tear on his face.

~"Every word you whisper / All the tears you hide / You die for love when it's alive / But where does love go when it dies?"~

The door closed again, and I wondered if I had even seen Angel for that brief moment, staring at me as if saying goodbye to what I could not, would not give him.

.oOo.

Now back when I was in my cheerleading phase – my cheerleading phase, as opposed to Buffy's cheerleading phase – Xander had mentioned the possibility of someone using magic to mess with kiddie league baseball. Gee, it's almost as if someone was foreshadowing, wasn't it?

Now I might not be able to pick 'Lucky Whatever his number was' out of a crowd, but I was pretty damn sure I didn't want to be facing my fears – I'm afraid of them, dammit!

Which meant I'd made a habit of attending kiddie league baseball matches for the last couple of months – accompanied by a bag full of books (because baseball, frankly, bores the hell out of me) and by Jesse, who genuinely was interested in the sport.

Today, if the numbers on the board meant what I thought they meant, the game was pretty close – it had gone into extra time, or whatever the correct term was.

"Come on, Lucky Nineteen!" shouted the coach.

Oh ho! My ears picked up and I closed my book around the playing card I was using as a bookmark. "Important pitch?" I asked.

Jesse sighed. "I don't know why you attend every game if you're not going to pay any attention." Then he groaned as the kid with the bat missed. "Aw c'mon – that was an easy pitch. Easy."

"I think that the coach agrees with you," I said, watching the man's face turn an interesting colour as he ushered the rest of the team towards the dugout. "Follow me."

"Where are we going?" he asked as he followed me down from the stands.

"I want to check on something."

.oOo.

"Uh, Buffy?" Jesse asked. "What are we doing?"

"You saw the kids when they came out of the locker room," I asked glancing apparently idly through the window of the small building that serviced the baseball pitch. It looked a lot like a scout hut near my home back when I wasn't Buffy, but wasn't as well maintained, so I could barely see through the window.

"Yeah?"

"Did you see number nineteen?" I asked, as I dropped from the high window and went to the back door.

"I don't think so," he replied. "I wasn't looking. Why?"

I tested the handle. Locked. "I was looking. And I didn't see him leave."

"So? Hey, what are you doing with that?" Jesse demanded as I pulled out an improvised saw – actually about three inches of saw blade with a simple handle, that I'd kept in a case in my bag for a while in case of situations like this.

"I had a weird dream, a few weeks back," I said as I applied the saw to the bolt of the lock – it was brass – no match for the high-quality saw and Slayer muscles. "A kid, badly beaten, and a baseball shirt. Plus, I can hear the coach in there and he's sounding pretty ticked off. Now I'd like to think there's nothing to it…"

"That was an easy pitch, you worthless little brat," I heard from inside the locker room. I sawed faster. "How am I supposed to win with a little piece of shit like you!?" The bolt gave way and I pulled the door quietly open.

The coach was looming over his luckless player, baseball bat in hand. They were both too engrossed in their little drama to notice as I entered the room, Jesse beside me. I gestured for him to keep quiet as we advanced down the length of the room.

"All you had to do was hit the ball!" the coach shouted. "Just… like… huh?"

The 'huh' was because the bat stopped moving a few inches into the arc that would have brought it into contact with the kid's head. He pulled harder, to no effect. It would have been funny if it wasn't for the circumstances. When that didn't work he turned his head and saw my hand on the bat, holding it still. One hand, while he was tugging it with both of his. Turning his head further, revealed me, with Jesse looming behind me. It's surprisingly helpful having someone tall backing you up.

"It's not what it looks like," he tried. "I was just trying to scare him!"

I looked down at the kid, who was trembling. "I would say that you succeeded."

Jesse tapped me on the shoulder. "Buffy, could I see that bat?"

I took it from the coach's hand and passed it back.

Jesse swung it a couple of times in the air. "Nice bat," he said conversationally, then looked at the kid. "Yours?"

He nodded nervously.

Jesse smiled and passed him the bat. "How about my good friend, Buffy here, walks you back to your dad," he said lightly. "I want to have a little chat with your coach, 'kay?"

.oOo.

"You know," I said casually as Jesse and I left the baseball grounds. "That's gonna to be one hell of a black eye you'll have in the morning."

"Uh-huh."

"And your knuckles look pretty scraped up," I added.

"Yeah," he admitted. "But you shoulda seen the other guy."

"I did," I replied. "Good job, by the way."

"Thanks." He grinned at me. "So, you gonna keep coming to the games now?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. I guess it keeps me out of the house and out of trouble."

"You don't count that as trouble?" Jesse said in surprise.

"Well," I grinned. "We didn't get caught, did we?"

.oOo.

"Ugh!" Cordelia sneered. "Behold, the weirdness!"

They'd been standing outside the Library when I left carrying a bag full of vampire hunting gear. Naturally, with all the Slayer grace and natural luck that I have, I walked straight into Cordelia's current boytoy and dropped the bag, spilling its contents all over the floor.

"Yo, Cordelia, who's the virgin sacrifice?" I asked brightly. "He was a virgin, wasn't he… before you got him I mean. Or are you buying secondhand these days?"

"Cordy never buys secondhand," Harmony said in what she probably thought was a quelling tone and then looked confusedly after Mitch as he freed himself from Cordelia and left in a huff.

Cordelia's face was icy. "You're a headcase. No one does that to me."

"Did you say something?"

If looks could kill…

.oOo.

Unfortunately for peace and tranquility between Cordelia and I, there wasn't really much time for her to calm down because we shared English class the next period. We were discussing The Merchant of Venice, which I'd had to plough through back in my own original school days. I hadn't particularly enjoyed it then either but Cordelia really seemed to be emphasising with one of the characters… well, as much as Cordelia emphasised with anyone.

"'If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?'" The English teacher, Ms. Miller, stopped reading and looked up at us. "Okay, so talk to me, people. How does what Shylock says here about being a Jew relate to our discussion about the anger of the outcast in society?"

"Well I totally get what he's talking about!" Cordelia declared forthrightly. "He's got his status to think about!"

"Uh, would you care to elaborate on that?" asked Ms. Miller.

"Yeah. Antonio's been making all these verbal digs at Shylock and he's acting like there's nothing Shylock can do about it, but now Shylock can touch him and if he doesn't it makes everyone think that he's as helpless as Antonio was assuming."

Ms. Miller nodded. "Well, Cordelia's raised an interesting point here. By defending his right to strike back at Antonio, Shylock is putting himself on the same level as Antonio within Venice society, whereas Antonio had been putting him down."

.oOo.

"Morning," I called to Giles as I walked into the library. We'd fallen into the routine of me reporting each morning on the evening's slayage. Okay, I didn't report every tiny little detail... that Vampire fraternity had the better part of three grand stashed and if my Watcher doesn't join me on patrol then he isn't gonna get a cut of the proceeds.

I glanced around at the library, which was in a bit of a mess as a result of the earthquake. Either that or Giles had hosted a rave last night. I eyed a couple of cracks in the floor. "Ouch, got some structural damage here, Giles. Is it safe to be in here?"

"Buffy!" Giles exclaimed from the cage. There was an odd tone of relief to his voice.

"Hi Giles!" I said brightly. "You getting enough sleep? You look kind of ragged."

"Um... I-I-I've been working," he said. "And yes, we're safe. But probably best not to go up there," he added, pointing at the stacks.

"Right," I agreed. "What's the cause of the late night? Some new news on the Hellmouth? 'Cuz the vampires are getting pretty feisty – one of them was practically on campus when I staked him."

He frowned and opened another book. "Their numbers are increasing."

"You're being awfully blasé about this," I told him. "You know something, don't you?"

"Uh, I-I need to verify, um..." he weaselled. "I just can't really talk right now."

I frowned. The only big deal that Buffy had had to deal with by the time of the Spring Fling was the Master breaking loose. Of course, I wasn't following any half-pint vampires anywhere so...

The bell rang. "Look Giles, I've gotta get to class. You've got until I get back to verify or whatever but I want chapter and verse. If there's trouble then I need everything you've got and you are not gonna hold out on me."

Giles had a troubled expression on his face as I turned and left.

.oOo.

"I miss Dr. Gregory," I complained as we left the Biology class. "I'm sure his lessons weren't that boring."

"I don't think that boring covers it," Xander said.

"Couldn't we do something more interesting? Like watch grass grow?" added Jesse. "That's biology too."

Willow sighed. "Even I was bored. And I'm a science nerd."

"You're not just a nerd," I said. The blasted girl kept putting herself down like that. If she'd just show a little confidence she'd have Xander wrapped around her finger by now.

"I'm not ashamed. It's the computer age, nerds are in." She paused for reassurance. "They're still in, right?"

"Absolutely," I deadpanned. "Even I can hardly resist your charms."

This was apparently not quite the right thing to say as Willow blushed, while Xander and Jesse took a quick trip to what must have been an interesting mental image. Actually... No, no. Bad Buffy.

"Ah," Xander recovered first of the two of them, which slightly surprised me, since Jesse (as far as I could tell, anyway) was still focused on Cordelia. "Willow, don't you and Jesse have a thing?"

"A thing?" she asked, sounding puzzled, then her eyes widened. "The thing! That I... we have!" She latched onto Jesse and pulled him off away from the bottom of the stairs. "Which is... a thing that we have to go to."

Jesse, stirred back to drab reality, managed a wave and a "Good luck, man," before Willow towed him out of sight.

Um, what? "What's got her babbling? Did I scare her off?"

"Nah, she's Willow," Xander laughs. "So, uh, Buffy. I wanted to, um, there was this thing I wanted to ask you..."

"A thing?" I asked and grinned, "like that thing Willow needed Jesse for?" Sounds familiar somewhere. So what episode was it? It's a pain accounting for how Jesse affects all the interactions but it's better than the alternative. "What's up?"

"Uh," he gestured towards a bench. "Let's go over here and sit."

"Okaay..." Xander doesn't get this nervous over an apocalypse. What could he be working up to – oh. Oh crap. Oh shit. Now I knew what was going on. Oh hell.

Where was an apocalypse when I need one? I can cope with those. This was romance. Mushy stuff. Hearts of glass wrapped in thick towels and other weird imagery. I was pretty sure I was gonna hurt someone. I was flailing mentally for a way to do this that wouldn't make a phenomenal mess out of all my friends while Xander drove off the occupant of the bench for us to sit down.

"So, what's the what," I asked. Why can't Angel turn up with bad news... oh yeah, daytime. Rotten vampire. Can't count on him to do anything right.

"Um... you know, Buffy, uh, Spring Fling is a... time for students to gather and... Oh, God!" He took a breath. "Buffy, I want you to go to the dance with me. You and me, on a date."

Well that was up front enough. I can't blame him for being nervous. I would be. I guess I could blame him for me being nervous though.

Dammit, I like Xander. He's a good guy. Hey, Dawn likes him, so does Mom. Was there really a good reason not to say yes?

I didn't know.

That scared me.

I put one hand on his shoulder. Whatever I was going to say, I didn't want him running off. "Xander, I..."

"Buffy, I like you. A lot. And I know we're friends, and we've had experiences... we've fought some blood-sucking fiends, and that's all been a good time. But I want more. I wanna dance with you."

I took a deep breath. Okay, the truth, or a reasonable facsimile. "Xander, gimme a minute, okay? This, it's kind of unexpected, okay. I didn't... I honestly had no idea you felt like this." Eyes fixed on his. "You're not just asking about a dance, are you?"

"No. No, I'm not."

"If it was just the dance, then the answer would be yes. But you deserve the full answer, Xander." There's hurt in his eyes. "Let me give you that answer. I do like you Xander. But I don't know how much. And I don't want you to look for something that might not be there. A dance, a date, to find out how far that feeling goes? Yeah. I'd like that. But I might not feel that way about you, Xander. And that would hurt you. I don't want that."

"Well," he says slowly. "We can try?"

"There's another but," I say, still as gently as I can, but with a hint more humour. "And this one could be worse. For you, anyway. I might wind up not going to the Fling anyway. You know, the whole hanging around in graveyards thing."

"Ah, that thing."

"Yeah, puts a crimp on the whole dating thing. So you could wind up getting stood up for one of the undead."

"Oh, is that how it is?" A teasing tone, thank god. I'd have hated it if he said that seriously. "I guess a guy's gotta be a Vamp to make time with you, huh?"

"Oh please," I made a moue of disgust. "If I was keeping a list, which I'm not, you'd be up near the top. They wouldn't even be on it."

"Really?" Okay, he was way too perky. "Up near the top, huh."

"Might be right up there, Xand'," I assured him. "I'm pretty sure Mom and Dawn would think I'm crazy not to just say yes outright. Well, Dawn would probably kill me if I did. She wants you for herself."

He blinked. "Really!?"

"She's not the only one, you know," I told him. "You've got an admirer or two among the ladies. I may have to watch my step."

"I do? I mean, yeah, I do," he said proudly. Cordelia's right, he is a doofus. Not always a bad thing, though.

"Yeah, you do." I rose to leave. "And Xander?"

"Hmmm?"

"I said, I'm not sure if I... feel the same way for you. But... like you said, we've had a lot of experiences. And I wouldn't want to have gone through them without you. Sometimes when it's dark and I'm all alone and I'm scared or freaked out or whatever, I think, 'What would Xander do?'"

"And then you run away?"

"You're a hero, Xander," I told him. "Just don't let it go to your head."

.oOo.

Have you ever had one of those days? Biology sucked which was apparently the signal for every other class that day to go straight to the shitter.

.oOo.

Angel gestured silently towards a door. We'd been running quiet for the last half-hour to avoid drawing the attention of any vampires in the area. We'd been lucky in this respect.

Touching the door, I found it locked and barred. The door itself was out of place with its surroundings, a metal security door that must have been obtained from elsewhere. Quite formidable although I had to wonder at keeping the defenses pointed in that direction. A quizzical look at Angel persuaded him to produce a large iron key and gesture towards the bar.

Ah well, I'd trusted him this far. I lifted the bar and set it aside so he could open the lock. It was well oiled and turned smoothly. Pulling the door open he bowed and waved me through in a courtly fashion. I accepted the invitation and took two steps down the stair beyond, keeping my back to the wall. The stair descended into a large and familiar chamber lit by hundreds of candles. A ruined chapel that I did not have to guess at the occupant of.

There was a crash behind me and I jerked my head around to see the door closed behind me and hear the lock click. Angel! Dammit! There was a muffled thud that I took to mean that the bar was in place once more.

Scheisse! What the hell was going… on… oh. Oh fuck. Angelus. How the hell had that happened? How the hell had that happened without me noticing? I should have paid more attention to him. I'd kept my distance and that had been a serious mistake on my part. One that could get people killed.

Harsh but true. I felt most chastised by my hindsight.

"Welcome," came a single voice whose origin I couldn't make out. Spooky.

I took a few more steps down the staircase, scanning the room for the Master. "Thanks for the courtesy. Although, really, it's your lot that need an invitation to enter a home. Nice place. You've got a real batcave ambience going. Except… no bats, I guess."

"Oh good," Nest said, stepping out into the light cast by one of the candelabra. "The feeble banter portion of the fight. I'd heard that you were more direct than that."

I shrugged and pointed my crossbow at him. "Sorry, I was all agog at Angel's change of sides. How long has he been working for you?"

"Oh, months now," he told me, unconcerned by the weapon I'd brought to bear. "He was Darla's little gift and now he's brought you to me."

"Does he get a kewpie doll?" I asked sarcastically. Might as well learn what I could now – so I could chase my own little Benedict Arnold down later and deliver his reward.

"His thirty pieces of silver?" the Master asked. "Oh he'd have done it for free, letting his inner demon out so to speak. But I've promised him his own city when we're done. The City of Angels will become the City of Angelus."

"Right up until the Old Ones take it off him," I snorted.

"Yes, well. Out of every life a little blood must spill. Unfortunately, it's your turn again, and it'll be more than a little."

I recognised the turn of phrase he'd adapted and chuckled. "Been catching up on modern literature?"

He smiled. "Angelus told me of your fondness for it."

I replied with my crossbow and the Anointed One, who'd been approaching me through the shadows, turned to dust as the wooden bolt pierced his heart.

"You killed my Anointed One!" complained Heinrich Joesph Nest.

.oOo.

"Angelus told you about my reading habits," I told the surprised vampire. "Well here's some modern literature for you: 'he was never a full member of the gang, no matter what he thought... and we operated information sequestration with him. He didn't know everything."

I slammed a right cross against the side of his head as he tried to stand, dropping him again. "Do you know that reference? No? Too bad – 'cus this next one's so post-modern it hasn't even been published yet."

"THE OBNOXIOUS SHAOLIN FRAT BOY KICKS THE EMPTY KEG THROUGH TH' THIRD STOREY WINDOW!" I shouted as I bounced into a flying kick that hammered one booted foot into the side of the Master's face and hurled him from his feet to crumple to the ground ten feet away.

(Well I started shouting that as I began the wind-up. The Master was on the ground and had stopped rolling by the time that I reached the bit about the window.)

.oOo.

So, back in Sunnydale after a wonderful summer of having to dodge Dad Summers to get any vampire hunting done. Is it any wonder that I slipped seamlessly into my old routine?

The local vampire population had diversified a bit over the summer, a weakening of the Master's grip on them I hope, and I took a great deal of satisfaction in tracking down and cleaning out several nests that were more accessible than, say, subterranean churches on top of the Hellmouth.

This didn't, of course, excuse me from the most rudimentary and boring forms of vampire population control. Grave watching, the new sport fresh from the west coast of the United States.

Bleah.

This particular little birdy was called Stephan Korshak and he was playing hard to get. Really annoying since I had a trigonometry assignment to finish tonight and I couldn't exactly do that in the graveyard. I'm getting close enough to the median life expectancy of a Vampire Slayer without taking that sort of dumb chance.

"Hey."

Have I mentioned that I really, really don't like it when people sneak up on me?

Five seconds later I had the guy pinned on the ground. Fortunately for him I recognised him while I was winding up for the stake-to-heart routine.

"Is this a bad time?"

"Jesse! Are you totally out of your mind?" I asked as I stood and helped him to his feet. "You don't just sneak up on me when I'm tensed up! I thought it was Angelus or someone like that!"

"Sorry." He shook his head. "I heard you were on patrol and thought you might want some company."

I shrugged and perched myself on Stephen's gravestone. "It's been a quiet hunt. Once lazybones here comes out to play I'll call it a night. Although at this rate I may have to exhume him myself."

"Ex-what?"

"Dig him up."

"Oh well, we wouldn't want that." He shivered. "Must be kind of weird, waking up in your own coffin and having to dig yourself up."

"I suppose. I'm not exactly tearing up over them but if I ever snuff it, do me a favour and have me cremated." I shiver myself. "I really, really don't want to be a vampire."

"Hey," Jesse says. "Not happening, okay? You've got me and Xander and Willow – we won't let that ever happen."

"Yeah, I guess I should stop being so maudlin," I agree. Right then the grave shook a bit and Stephan clawed his way out of it. "Hold that thought," I told Jesse and leant down, driving my bokken through the newly hatched vampire's heart from behind.

"My work here is done," I told Jesse, wiping vampire dust off the polished surface of the wooden sword. "Now I can return to my home world."

He frowned. "UHF?"

"Yep. Your turn." I confirmed as we walked away from the grave.

Jesse frowned in thought. "Are we being too literal?" he ventured.

"No you fool, we're following orders," I laughed. "We were told to comb the desert so we're combing it. Spaceballs."

"Damn," he groaned.

"Okay…" I mused. "Try this, my young padawan. Character is what you are in the d-oah-uf," I finished as the ground fell away from under me. "Ow."

Fortunately for me the hole wasn't that deep – only four or five feet and the open coffin cushioned me nicely. "Well that's suitably ironic. At least I won't have to dig myself out of here."

"Are you okay?" asked Jesse, bending over the grave to look down at me.

"I'm fine. Humiliated, but fine."

"So what's with the open grave?" he asked. "Did you miss one?"

"Christ I hope not," I muttered as I rolled to my feet and scrambled up the side of the hole. Then I frowned and looked at the sides more closely. "Oh that's sick."

"What?"

"These are spade marks."

"So?" asked Jesse, giving me a hand out.

"So someone exhumed…" I glanced at the tombstone, "Meredith Todd. And somehow I don't think it was for her winning personality."

.oOo.

There didn't seem to be any immediate danger posed by our mysterious grave robber, so it wasn't until the next morning that I bothered Giles with the information. Besides, thinking about grave robbing late at night doesn't do wonderful things on the restless sleep front.

Trust me, I'd found that out in spades.

Walking into the library, Xander and I were greeted by Giles' back. He appeared to be… look I'm not making this up, okay? He was propositioning a goddamn chair. I swear and I have Xander as a witness. My Watcher, the notional brains of this outfit was chatting up a piece of furniture.

"W-w-w-what I'm proposing is, um… and I-I don't mean to appear indecorous, is, is, um, a, a-a-a social engagement, um, a, a, a, a-a date, if you're amenable."

Xander and I halted and let the door close silently behind us. We exchanged incredulous glances.

Giles took his glasses off and rested his head in one hand. "You idiot!" he told himself.

I walked up silently behind him and then leant over to whisper softly in his ear, "Rupert?" in my best imitation of Ms. Calendar's accent.

He burst to his feet and spun around, face reddening. "J-j-jenny!" Then he realised who it was and his face darkened. "Buffy! Would you please n-not do that!"

"Sorry Giles," I said, unrepentantly, and went past him to sit on the table. "Just think of it as a training program – you need to be more aware of your surroundings, even when you're plotting pick up lines to use on… Ms. Calendar, I presume?"

"W-what makes you think that?" he asked.

"Simple deduction," Xander said, taking the chair that Giles had vacated. "Ms. Calendar is reasonably dollsome, especially for someone in your age bracket. She already knows that you're a school librarian, so you don't have to worry about how to break that embarrassing news to her."

I threw a book at him but Giles caught it out of the air. "Buffy!"

"You're not doing so badly," I assured the librarian. "But seriously, no need to talk about 'social engagements' or 'dates'. You're both adults, right?"

"Y-yes," he agreed.

"Then just ask her if she'd like to have dinner with you one night this week. No pressure, just have a couple of restaurants in mind if she asks and a recipe planned if she wants home-cooking."

"Oh," he said thoughtfully. "Right."

"Is that what I should have done?" Xander asked curiously.

"No, we're both teenagers," I assured him. "Gile's insecure stammering a minute ago would be an appropriate technique for our age brackets."

"So, um, how did things go last night? Did Mr Korshak show up on schedule?" Giles asked, changing the subject. For which I should probably have showered him with praise. Talking about teenage dating practises is never a good idea and I really should have known better.

"A little late, but yeah. No problem. There was something though. We found an empty grave."

"We?" asked Xander.

"Jesse decided to go walking on his own in the graveyard. I've spoken to him about that," I explained.

"Was it another vampire?" Giles asked. "The grave I mean?"

I shook my head. "No, it was a spade job. Someone went in there and snatched the body. Must have been quite early because I was in that part of the cemetery for quite a bit of the night."

"Grave robbing?" he mused. "That's new. Interesting."

The three of us shared the deep and uncomfortable realisation that we were taking a quiet and professional interest in the practise of exhuming dead bodies.

"Terrible thing." "Gross and disgusting." "Gotta put a stop to this." Then we cracked up in nervous laughter.

"So," Xander said practically. "Why does someone want to dig up graves?"

"Well, I'll, uh, collect some theories. Uh it would help if we knew who the body belonged to."

I nodded. "Meredith Todd." I passed a transcription of the details on the tombstone to him. "About my age but I don't think she was a student here – ring any bells Xander?"

"Drawing a blank," he said.

"And only recently deceased," Giles noted. "Well, maybe Willow can turn some information up on this thing," he indicated the computer.

I nodded absently. This did seem familiar but I couldn't place any details. Hopefully it wouldn't be too bad. After all, it's not as if the dead body was really going to complain – unless it was a vampire in which case the graverobbers would presumably be in quite a bit of trouble.

.oOo.

"This shouldn't take long," Willow assured us. "I'm probably the only girl in school who has the coroner's office bookmarked."

"One of two," I corrected her. "I copied your bookmarks, remember?"

This, of course, was the point that Cordelia lowered herself to enter the library. "Hi," she said. "Sorry to interrupt your little undead playgroup, but I need to ask Willow if she'll help me with my science fair project."

.oOo.

"A lot of educators tell students: Think of your Principal as your pal," Snyder advised the 'class' gathered in his office. Said class comprising myself and a girl called Sheila. I didn't know her well – probably because she attended school so rarely. "I say: Think of me as your judge, jury and executioner." The weasel-faced Principal sneered at us. "Tell me, who do you think is the most troublesome student in this school?"

"Warren Meers," I replied promptly. "Always asking questions in class – sure sign of inadequate brainwashing."

"I suppose that you think that that's funny, Summers?"

"It's the explicit goal of a compulsory school system, Principal Snyder," I replied earnestly. "To quote Benjamin Rush: 'Let our pupil be taught that he does not belong to himself, but that he is public property.' The goal is of schools is conformity, not education."

"Actually, Summers," Snyder replied, apparently wanting to get back on track, "It's quite a match between the two of you. On the one hand, your anarchist streak hasn't led you to stab a horticulture teacher with a trowel, yet."

"I didn't stab anyone with a trowel," Sheila objected. "They were pruning shears."

"On the other hand, Sheila has never burned down a school building."

"Thanks for giving her the idea," I said cheerfully. "Want me to mention this conversation to the insurance assessors if she takes you up on the suggestion?"

"The two of you seem to be tied in the class-cutting and fight-starting events. You really are neck and neck here. It's quite exciting," Snyder said flatly.

"What does the winner get?" Sheila asked in a bored voice.

"Expelled," Snyder smirked. "Thursday is Parent-Teacher night. Your parents, assuming you have any, will meet your teachers, assuming you have any left. I've decided to put the two of you in charge of this event. You have three days to prepare the refreshments, make the banners and transform the school lounge into a place for adults. This will incur my good will. And may affect what I tell your parents when I meet them. Are we clear?"

Okay, what he tells Mom about my conduct at school depends on my being in his non-existent good books. So I'm screwed.

No change there then.

"I have just one question," I said, when it became evident that Sheila wasn't going to say anything. I looked at her. "Are you going to do anything to contribute to this 'grand event'?"

"Nope."

I nodded, ignoring Snyder's face, which was going all sorts of nasty colours. "Figured that'd be the case. Right then. Anything else?" I asked the Principal. "Cuz, if I'm on my own I'd better get cracking."

"If you mess up this time, your parents will be coming to clean out your lockers," he snarled.

.oOo.

"So, Snyder's got you and Sheila making party favours?" Xander asked as he and Jesse met me outside the school entrance.

"That seems to be his master plan for this week's episode," I replied dryly. "Maybe I should just look up exorcism and see if that gets rid of him."

"Not a bad idea," Jesse agreed. "You'd get the grateful thanks of the entire school body if it worked."

"Yeah, well I'm gonna be a bit too busy for the next few days. Somehow I doubt Sheila's going to do anything, so I'll be doing this solo," I told them. "Maybe I can get extra credit for Home Economics out of it."

"That's Sheila alright," Xander agreed, "That guy with her?" he pointed at a blond guy wearing black shorts and a heavy metal t-shirt, who was wrapped up in Sheila. "That's the guy she can bring home to mother."

Jesse nodded, "Wills' says she was smoking back in fifth-grade."

"How'd Willow know?" I asked.

"Sheila bullied her into playing lookout."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," I sighed. "Anyway – I'm going to head for the Teacher's Lounge and see what I have to work with. See if I can get it clean with something other than a match and a gallon of petroleum."

.oOo.

"I got the mail," Joyce told me that night, as I was curled up on my bed with a book and trying to deal with the fact that I wouldn't find any Katherine Kurtz novels I hadn't already read for the next decade or so. Damn it.

The fact that Joyce was using the tone of voice usually reserved for when Dawn and I got snippy at each other caught my attention. "That happens most days," I pointed out, putting a bookmark into my book to mark my place.

"Which included a reminder notice about the Parent-Teacher night. Thursday."

"Yeah?"

"Which you were planning on telling me about?" Mom asked.

"Didn't I?" I asked, quite surprised. Oh right, I found out the night I didn't get home 'til late on account of a vampire nest I'd spotted. Thus, I'd not had a chance to mention it that night and I'd forgotten by morning. "No, you're right. I didn't. Bother. Are you free?"

"Yes."

"Good," I said. "Sorry about that - I hope you didn't have to cancel anything."

"Fortunately, no," Joyce agreed. "So, what do you think your teachers are gonna tell me about?"

I frowned. "Well, I expect that they'll skip right over my grades and go onto my bad habits – asking questions, talking back to the popular crowd… the usual."

Joyce blinked. "And how are these bad habits? How are they reflected in your homework and test scores?"

"Ah, I thought you might ask that," I said triumphantly, and produced a sheet of paper from my bedside table. "Witness my grades for the last year." I could be fairly confident of those: the teachers might kiss up to Snyder to a distressing degree but they knew damn well I'd kick up a row if they mucked around with my grades.

I saw Joyce's eyebrows rise as she saw I was scoring A's and B's in almost every class. Not that difficult really – I'd done most of the work before and pulled in solid grades. "Well done," she said, in an impressed voice. "I look forward to meeting your principal."

I snorted. "Don't." At her glance I elaborated: "He's been on a power-trip since he found out he could issue detentions and he thinks expelling a student is infinitely preferable to graduating one."

"I'm sure he can't be that bad," Joyce protested.

"Well, draw your own conclusions once you've met him," I shrugged. "I'm sure he won't hesitate to sink a few daggers into my front."

"Your back, dear."

"Front – I'll be there." She shot me a startled look. "He volunteered me to cater."

"Oh," Mom said, in surprise. Then she frowned and opened her mouth to speak.

"Since it's short notice for a babysitter, I checked and Xander said he'd be free to baby-sit Dawn if you needed him to. His parents aren't going," I added, "And I guess he'd be glad to be out of the house."

.oOo.

"Buffy," Giles called as he and Jenny walked into the Teacher's Lounge where I was painting the banner that was required (for some imbecilic reason) to decorate the school porch. We never had crap like that when I was at school. We had desks and chairs for the teachers and appointments for the parents. Christ knows, we never served punch and pretzels.

"There is nothing in the chronicles about a-an extraneous lunar cycle," Giles added as an aside to Jenny.

"The Order never accurately calculated the Mesopotamian Calendar," she replied. "Rupert, you have got to read something that was published after 1066."

"Very funny," he replied.

"What's the up, guys?" Xander asked from where he'd been helping me eat my crisps - potato chips, I mean.

"W-um, Ms. Calendar has been researching, well, uh, surfing on her computer, a-and she's…"

"Spit it out," I snapped, wiping another smear of paint onto the banner.

Giles looked a little offended. "This Saturday is the night of St. Vigeous."

"So what's the deal about some long forgotten catholic?" I asked.

"He led a crusade of, of, uh, vampires. They swept through Edessa, Harran and points east," Giles explained.

"And they didn't leave much behind," Jenny added.

"Right," I sighed. "Let me guess. You don't think Angelus will celebrate with a quiet night in and a glass of brandy? Any idea what he's likely to get up to?"

"Er… no," Giles confessed.

"Great," I sighed. "Okay. See what you can find out." I turned to Willow, who'd been giving me a hand with the painting. (I knew Snyder wouldn't like it, but she looked too cute for me to turn down her offer of assistance). "Willow, you'd better give Giles and Jenny a hand with that. Xander – get together with Jesse and check the weapons locker. Make sure we've got plenty of the basics – stakes, crucifixes and holy water. You know how to get more if we need them."

"A-and what will you doing?" Giles asked.

"Well, first I'm going to get this done. And tonight I'll knock heads together and see what I can find out."

.oOo.

I did know this particular little bit of Buffy history as it happened, so I knew that what happened would be on Thursday not Saturday. What I wasn't sure of was how it would happen – I'd not seen any sign of Spike yet, but even if he didn't show then Angelus might well come out to play. Peachy. At least Dawn would be safe at home with Xander to watch out for her.

In search of more information, I staked out the Bronze later that night and who should I see walk in and start nosing around but a certain bleached-blond Vampire. Funny how things work out really. I'd been looking for him and here he was, looking for me. Of course, since I was perched up on one of the rafters above a spotlight (and thus the next best thing to invisible), I was having more luck than he was.

I wasn't really very interested in some witty repartee or whatever he was after but I was interested in where he went when he left the Bronze, a large and rather hairy vampire lieutenant in tow.

As it happened, they seemed to be hunting because they split up. The lieutenant, I recognised as one of the late Herr Nest's flunkies that I'd missed killing last summer so I dealt with him first. I just hate having unfinished business – it always comes back to haunt me in this town. He wasn't being terribly cautious – one crossbow bolt from the rooftop turned him into light layer of dust on the asphalt and I took a moment to recover the bolt before turning to see if I could pick up a trace of Spike again.

What I saw gave me cause to regret not going him first. He'd come across three youngsters leaving some rattrap of a bar and was on them before I could get into shouting range or reload the crossbow.

Damn, but he was smooth. First one, then the other of the two men were taken out without the girl noticing more than their absence. He fed quickly and then stepped out to distract her attention. As she turned to look at him I bit back a curse. It was Sheila.

Well no use trying to warn her about him – she'd probably take any criticism as a mark in his favour, or as me trying to 'steal him off of her'. As if.

So instead I followed them. It looked to me as if he'd take her home with him – takeout for Drusilla so to speak. And I was definitely interested in finding out where he was lairing now that he'd got into town. With just a little bit of luck he'd lead me all the way to Angelus.

He couldn't go any faster than Sheila could walk, so I was able to follow quite easily until he reached his car. I took the time to mock up a quick disguise, tying a silk bandanna around my lower face and tucking my hair up under a woollen cap I carried around for just that purpose. I probably looked moderately ridiculous, but chances were that Sheila wouldn't recognise me – which was the main idea.

Spike had his hand on the door of his car when I jumped off the nearest building and landed on the roof. Startled, he didn't react in time to stop me from kicking him right under the jaw and hurling him backwards away from the car and away from Sheila.

"Heard that you were looking for me," I said, stepping off the roof of the car and walking towards him. "So. What brings William the Bloody to my little corner of the world? Family reunion?"

"Slayer," he muttered, sounding a little surprised. "Yeah. Something like that."

"Right then," I said coolly. "Then you won't mind taking a little message to your limp-wristed boy-band-reject of a grandsire, will you? Tell him he should have run while he had the chance."

"Hey," protested Sheila. "What are you talking about? What's up?"

"You're coming with me," I said flatly.

"No, I'm going with him," Sheila insisted.

I rolled my eyes and punched her under the ribs. I pulled the blow but it doubled over up nicely anyway. "See you Saturday, shall I, Billy-boy?"

"Kill you Saturday, Slayer," he lied and backed away as I hoisted Sheila over my shoulder and left.

.oOo.

"Buffy! Look out!" shouted Giles from through the library doors.

I lunged forwards instinctively – I'd lost the element of surprise, so I needed to get rid of the vampire fast, then deal with whatever Giles had noticed. Said deadite menace was still in the process of turning when I crashed into him and bore him to the ground, driving my stake into his side between two ribs and then rolling through the resultant cloud of dust into a handstand against the door behind him.

Behind me, a fire axe crashed against the floor almost where I'd been standing. I looked up and saw Cordelia holding the axe handle. There was something wrong with her face, and for a moment I was tempted to ascribe it to my being upside down.

Then she lifted the axe again and I saw her eyes. She was a vampire.

"Oh shit," I said, not yet fully processing the full meaning of this. "When… awp!" The last sound was what I uttered as I had to cartwheel aside to avoid her axe, which gouged into the library door.

.oOo.

Bleach boy looks up and grins. Yep, that's William the Bloody Awful. "Fe, fi, fo fum," he says by way of greeting. "I smell the blood of a nice ripe girl."

"You're not winning any friends with that as a chat up line," I replied and looked down at the pole he was holding. "So, are we going to settle this with weapons?"

"I like 'em," Spike replied. "They make me feel all manly."

"I'm glad something does," I riposted, keeping the axe at low guard. "Having trouble measuring up with Drusilla now that she's got her sugar-daddy back, are you?"

He growled and advanced on me, raising the pole. "Got a real mouth on you, don't you? Me and Dru, we're forever, and don't you forget it."

"Nothing lasts forever," I told him and sidestepped away from his improvised club.

"The last Slayer I killed… she begged for her life," he told me.

"You've snagged yourself a brace," I replied calmly. "So is a hat-trick the magic number?"

"Dunno," he grinned. "But I guess I'll find out real soon now."

I shook my head. "That's not gonna happen, Spike. You were lucky as hell last time. Now you think you can take me down? On my homeground? Not gonna happen."

"Bets?" the vampire asked, swinging at me.

I smacked the pole casually aside with the flat of the fire axe. "I've got a magic number too, poet. Four little Scourges of Europe and here you are... all four of you in my town and ready for me to do the house-cleaning."

.oOo.

So… two days before Halloween and I'm spending the evening slaying. Hands in the air if you're surprised by this.

Didn't think so.

I wasn't planning on much – it'd been pretty quiet lately and Halloween 1997 is a fairly memorable Buffy occasion – so I was just doing a little clean up in the graveyards but – lucky me, I ran into some dumb minion type who still thought a lone blonde was a Happy Meal.

I suppose Harmony should thank me – no vampire with even half a brain would attack her in case they're mistaking me for her.

Anyway. Mr. Bloodsucker had a little more fight in him than the 'fresh from the grave' variety of vampires that'd been all I'd staked for a couple of days, so things got a little messy. We didn't totally demolish Pop's Pumpkin Patch, but there were a couple of vampire-shaped holes by the time I was done and quite a bit of damage to the merchandise, so I emptied the wallet I'd taken off the vampire before I staked him and left most of the cash where no one would find it until the 'Pop' got round to cleaning up.

I thought I'd seen another vampire around during the fight but he didn't join in so I wasn't sure. I guess if he was there then he decided not to get involved. Annoying really – vampires are so much easier to stake when they aren't cautious like that.

So I was out of pocket, pumpkin-stained and frustrated when I got home. As a nice relaxing night before the Hellmouth flared up again, it was a wash.

.oOo.

School the next day wasn't exactly delightful either. Snyder was feeling bitter and twisted, as usual, and Halloween was giving him another excuse to vent this on the students.

"Snyder must be in charge of the volunteer safety program for Halloween this year," Willow said as we pass him forcing a clipboard on one of Cordelia's legion of sheep.

"Note his interesting take on the volunteer concept," Xander added.

"Volunteer safety program?" I asked. Doesn't sound like what I was expecting. "Is that a Halloween thing?"

"Oh, a bunch of little kids need people to take them trick-or-treating," Xander explained while Willow opened her locker. "Sign up and get your own pack of sugar-hyped little runts for the night."

"Oh…" I said, and then frowned. Okay, that was about what I'd expected. Just a silly name. I was about to add something about the name when someone tapped my on the shoulder.

I hate it when people do that.

Particularly when it's someone like Snyder, that I can't physically persuade not to do it again.

"Miss Summers," he says. "Just the juvenile delinquent I've been looking for."

"Principal Snyder," I replied quickly pasting a big grin on my face. "Just the teacher I was hoping to run into! Xander was just telling me about the volunteer safety program and I was wondering where I could sign up."

He looked at me in surprise. "You want to sign up?"

"Absolutely," I say as enthusiastically as I can. "I love the idea of taking kids trick or treating."

He shoves his clipboard behind himself. "I just bet you do, Miss Summers. The last thing those children need is your bad influence. However, perhaps it will be enough to separate you from your partners in crime." He held out the clipboard to Xander and Willow. "The program starts at four, the children have to be back at six."

.oOo.

"I can't believe this," Xander ranted. "We have to get dressed up and the whole deal?"

"Snyder said costumes were mandatory," Willow sighed. "You were smart to get out of it, Buffy."

"It wouldn't make all that much difference," I said with a shrug. "Whether it's the sprogs from school or my sister, I'm gonna have to supervise some trick or treating."

Xander shook his head. "And Halloween… that's gotta be a big old vamp scare-apalooza."

"Not according to Giles," I told him. "He swears up and down that Halloween is the one night that Vampires almost always stay in. Of course, we are on the Hellomouth, so I'm not going to rely on that."

Just as we entered the lounge, we saw one of the football jocks looming over Jesse – and by looming over him, I mean holding him by the shirt and about to land a punch. Oh the joy.

I wasn't exactly in any position to do anything about it either, but fortunately Jesse remembered a little bit of advice that I'd given him a while back. Well one of them – kicking one of the football squad between the goalposts would have been a fast track way of getting suspended, justified or not. Instead, he jabbed his left hand into the inside of Larry's elbow and the jock's arm folded up like a pair of scissors, dragging Jesse forward. As a result they both went down like a pair of drunken sailors.

"Jesus, Larry," I said, walking over. "Aren't there bars you can go to, or something? Just grabbing random blokes is going to get you into trouble."

"It's not like that!" he spat and tried to get up. Unfortunately, he and Jesse weren't exactly co-ordinating that and… well, their faces came into collision. In full view of a fascinated crowd. Jesse recoiled immediately, practically spitting. Larry just looked stunned.

.oOo.

"B-buffy?" gasped Jesse. Oh thanks, ruin my surprise attack, whydontcha?

Spike threw his head back and laughed. "Nice try pal, but your slayer friend's dead."

I grabbed his shoulder and spun him round to face me, then laid an upper cut into his jaw, hurling him halfway across the warehouse. "I. Got. Better."

Then I turned my best glare upon the two vampires still stood among the blubbering children and restraining Jesse and Dawn, and walked menacingly towards them, clenching my fists.

"S-slayer?" asked one of them.

"That's right," I told him. "I'm back. And I'm a bloody animal!"

They turned and ran.

Damn, the psycho slayer thing comes in handy sometimes. I scare even myself at times.

Spike staggered to his feet. "Right then," he growls, staring after his minions. "I don't need them. Taken down two Slayers in my time, I have. Think you can go best out of three with me, luv? Think again!" he declared, and charged.

"Best out of one should do it," I growled and swung the sword out from behind my back to drive it into his chest.

We stood there for a moment, him looking down at the length of steel sticking out from between his ribs, me twisting it deliberately to increase the damage done.

"Cut that out," he said, "it tickles."

"Yeah?" I asked, twisting the sword blade around a bit more. "Well, tell me something."

"What?" he asked.

Can you believe it? The idiot stopped to talk in the middle of the fight! Moron.

"Can you blush?" I asked, and then ripped the sword up and out of his shoulder, by way of his heart.

William the Dusty declined to reply.

"B-buffy?" Dawn asked again.

"That's my name," I smirked.

"Weren't you dead a minute ago?" demanded Jesse.

I looked down at myself, then up at him. "I guess so. But I feel much better now."

.oOo.

Later that night I was in my room, sprawled out on the bed and skimming through a collection of Kipling's poems when I heard a knock at the door.

I looked up and saw Dawn peeking around the door. So much for the souped up Slayer senses – I would have expected to hear her the minute she left her room, but nooo...

"Hey there," I greeted her. She edged into the room, wearing her nightie. Well, she'd obviously followed at least part of the instruction 'go to bed'. "You okay?"

"I can't sleep," she told me quietly.

I shrugged and set my book aside. I wasn't feeling too sleepy myself. "Want me to get you something? I'm told warm milk helps."

Normally that would provoke a sarcastic commentary on my ability to use a microwave. (Justified, although I can manage a conventional cooker well enough to get by). Instead, Dawn just looked down at the carpet and mumbled something, I couldn't quite make out. Dammit, what the hell was up with my hearing tonight?

"I didn't quite catch that," I said.

"What happened tonight?" my little sister asked.

Oh... bollocks.

I considered my options for a moment. What it boiled down to was to tell the truth or to lie to her. The truth would hurt – Dawn was still so young... A lie would damage the trust that had been so fragile between us since I'd arrived her... No, worse. It could get her killed.

"Halloween," I said. "The night when the monsters come out and play."

"But monsters aren't real!" Dawn protested, beginning to cry.

I took her hands in mine and hugged her gently to me. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

She nestled against me, looking for reassurance I think. "Are they?"

"Monsters? Oh yes. Monsters and magic. It's a pretty amazing town we live in and a girl'd have to be some kinda fool to think we're all alone in it," I said, paraphrasing one of my favourite movies.

"Am I going crazy too?" she asked me. "Like you did?"

"Am I really so bad?" I asked her.

"No," she admitted "You were always a bimbo back in L.A.."

"Ouch, truth hurts," I said, and she giggled weakly.

"Is that why you can't sleep?" I asked.

"Uh-huh. Every time I close my eyes I think they're gonna come and get me. Or I'll be someone else like I was before."

"That's not gonna happen," I promised. Then I lifted her up easily (at least the Slayer strength wasn't wigging out on me!) and pushed back the covers of my bed. "How about you sleep in here tonight, and I'll make sure that no nasty monsters come and bother you."

She nodded convulsively and huddled under the duvet as I put my book away and undressed for bed. When I slid under the cover she cuddled up against me and I hugged her to me.

"I thought you were dead," Dawn whispered into my ear.

I stroked her hair. "Yeah. I thought I was too."

"Do you always beat the bad guys, like that blond guy?"

"Oh yeah," I assured her as I switched reached over to off the light. "Me and Giles and Xander and the rest. We always defeat the bad guys and save the day. No one ever dies, and everyone lives happily after."

.oOo.

"Well, it seems like Louis XVI was just sort of a weak king," one of the boys said in response to the teacher's leading questions in class.

"That's fair enough," she replied. "Uh, any other impressions?"

"He wasn't exactly in the best of positions," I pointed out. "He wasn't exactly trained for the job – he was only a few years older than we are when he took the throne, and the closest thing Europe had back there to training for a king was military service, which wouldn't have helped much dealing with an economic crisis. It might have helped deal with the nobility, but then he'd have been kicking off a Civil War on his own and he'd have had the example of Charles I of England a century and a half back in England for what happens to Kings who try military solutions against their own governments."

"The real cause of the problems was the continued crisis between the nobility and the general population. His only real hope was to resolve that and when the nobility refused to compromise, he didn't have the sort of character to force a solution. Once he tried to run away, it was all up – he'd abdicated his responsibilities and he was never going to be able to reclaim his moral authority."

.oOo.

"I'd suggest a box of Oreos dunked in apple juice," came a voice from behind me. "But maybe she's over that phase."

I blinked and turned my head to look for whoever had made such a bizarre suggestion. He was a cleancut guy about our age, no one I'd seen around before. He was also looking right at me. "Uh, what?" I asked.

"Hey, Summers," he said cheerfully. "You don't remember me?"

I shrugged. "Er… no? Don't think I do."

The boy looked disappointed. "Billy Fordham? From Hemery?"

My eyes widened. Oho! I hadn't seen the episode in question, but that name rang a bell alright. "Ford?" I said incredulously. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought it would take an earthquake to get you out of L.A."

"Dad got transferred," he explained, "I'm finishing out my senior year at Sunnydale High."

.oOo.

I looked down at Ford's grave, then pulled a folded piece of paper out of my pocket and read what was on it out loud.

"Insofar as I may be heard by anything, which may or may not care what I say, I ask, if it matters, that you be forgiven for anything you may have done or failed to do which requires forgiveness. Conversely, if not forgiveness but something else may be required to insure any possible benefit for which you may be eligible after the destruction of your body, I ask that this, whatever it may be, be granted or withheld, as the case may be, in such a manner as to insure your receiving said benefit. I ask this in my capacity as your elected intermediary between yourself and that which may not be yourself, but which may have an interest in the matter of your receiving as much as it is possible for you to receive of this thing, and which may in some way be influenced by this ceremony. Amen."

Giles looked surprised but said Amen with me. "The Agnostic's Prayer?" he asked.

"If I believed in a merciful God, I'd have to accept that this is the life I deserve. I'd rather be agnostic."

.oOo.

"Ethan? This is the guy with the freaky halloween costumes that got you killed, right?"

"T-that's him," Giles confirmed as I nodded.

"So, this demon thing's trying to kill him?" asked Jesse.

I nodded. "'I'm trying not to let that happen."

"There's no finer human quality than mercy. But there's a time and a place for everything," Xander pointed out.

"That's true," I conceded. "Unfortunately, Ethan's slimey enough to arrange for someone else to get killed in his place – if we just leave him to die he'll get someone killed when he tries to weasel out of this."

.oOo.

Apparently the career fair in an American high school is rather more important than I had thought because it had been the main subject of conversation for a couple of days now. It was as if whatever came out of the lottery of the career aptitude test would be their inevitable destiny. Were this to be the Soviet Union, they might be right… actually, given that this was Sunnydale it was entirely possible that the Mayor did micromanage to that degree.

The kids who strategised what answers to give in an attempt to 'beat the system' were taking it way too seriously though.

"'Are you a people person or do you prefer keeping your own company?'" Xander read off his test. "Well what if I'm a people person who keeps his own company by default?"

"Then I guess you're still a people person," I told him. "It's all a nonsense anyway, so why get all wound up about it?"

"But don't you want to know what you could be doing in a few years time?" Jesse asked from the other side of the table. "I mean, slinky fashion model or something?"

I started to gargle disgustedly. "Fashion model? Yech, not a hope!"

"I don't know," Willow said from behind me. "You are a bit of a clothes horse, Buffy." (I squeaked indignantly). "And didn't you spend about an hour helping me pick out a dress for the Homecoming Dance?"

"Yeah…" I agreed. "That was awesome, half-naked Willow and a bed…" Willow went a brilliant crimson and the boys stared at me slack-jawed for a moment before I winked. "That's a point for my side, I believe," I told them.

"Yeah, you wait, Summers," Jesse grumbled good-naturedly. "One day you'll be on the other end of barbs like that and what'll you do then?"

"Doesn't that depend on the silly piece of paper's verdict?" I asked, tapping the aptitude test with my pencil. "If you fill out the Career Aptitude Test then forever will it dominate your destiny…"

"It's ridiculous," Xander grumped. "These people can't tell from one multiple-choice test what we're gonna be doing for the rest of our lives."

"Don't you want to know what sort of career you can have?" Willow asked.

"What? And suck all the spontaneity out of being young and stupid? I'd rather live in the dark."

"You're not gonna be young forever," chided Willow.

"Yeah, but I'll always be stupid," Xander smirked. "Okay, let's not all rush to disagree," he added as no one denied the statement.

"~History is made by stupid people, clever people wouldn't even try. If you want a place in the history books, then do something dumb before you die…~" I sang back. "Drop the angst, Xander. It doesn't suit you."

.oOo.

"I am Kendra! The Vampire Slayer!"

.oOo.

Okay, I wasn't entirely shocked by this.

I might not have died against the Master, but after Halloween I'd had to consider that Kendra might be called.

The trouble was – I'd never actually seen Kendra. Hey, she's only around in, what, three episodes? I've seen a picture, yeah, and I was pretty sure it was her, but a still picture isn't as good for recognition purposes as hearing her talk, seeing her move. And of course, this assumes that she's simply turning up on schedule. Given she would have been called five months or so later than in the show...

I gave her a thoughtful look. "The Slayer... well you've got the strength, but so would a vampire..." She looked insulted and I smiled sweetly. "Of course, you think the same of me?" I flicked my wrist and the little 'charm bracelet' I'd obtained from Angel that first night in Sunnydale glittered in the light. Snaring the cross between two fingers, I held it up to her. "Please note that I'm not charring here."

Kendra looked skeptical and then gestured at my glass. "You are not a vampire? Then why do you drink blood?"

The look I shot her was exasperated. "It's blackcurrant juice for cryin' out loud."

She glared at me and then lifted the glass and sniffed at it.

"So we've demonstrated that I'm not a vampire," I said coldly. "I suggest that you do likewise." I unwound the bracelet from my wrist and passed it to her. She lifted it and laid the cross against the palm of her hand. No reaction.

"Okay," I agreed. "So you're not a vampire either."

"I'm the Slayer," she all but sneered. At least, that's more or less how she spoke. The accent threw me off a bit. She offered me the cross back.

"Keep it," I told her. "I had a priest bless it – it brought me luck. Consider it a gift – from one Slayer to another."

She backed up, raising her fists. "There is but one Slayer, and I am she."

"Yeah, well," I said and shrugged. "Up until you turned up I would have said the same thing. It must be Thursday already…"

"Thursday?"

"All the weird stuff goes down on Thursday. Don't ask me why." I brushed past her on the way to the door. "C'mon."

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"We are going to visit my Watcher. Maybe he can find out why there are two Slayers all of a sudden."

.oOo.

Giles was flummoxed. He paced back and forth as Kendra stood at attention by the table. I took my own customary position on the counter and tried to take up one of my breathing exercises. Kendra's existence didn't surprise me and nor did her presence, but it did unsettle me. And frankly, she annoyed the hell out of me.

Arrogant cow.

I could probably put up with her looking down on me physically – it's not my fault I'm short. But she obviously thought I was something of a joke as a Slayer and whatever her Watcher had taught her, social subtlety was not on the curriculum.

"And your Watcher is, i-is Sam Zabuto, you say?" Giles asked.

"Yes sir."

"We've never met," Giles told us, "But he, he's, he's very well-respected."

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

"And you are called...?" Giles asked.

"I am the Vampire Slayer," she said simply. Note 'the' vampire slayer. Not 'a' vampire slayer. The. Obviously I don't count to her mind.

"I-I mean your name," he persisted.

"Oh," she said, in sudden understanding. "They call me Kendra. I have no last name, sir."

I frowned and broke her answer down. 'They' called her Kendra. Who were 'they'? Her watcher, this Zabuto character? No last name. Not she didn't know. Not that she didn't use it. No last name. As in raised without. Who by? Not her family probably, at least since she was a small child. And she called Giles 'sir'. Politeness, yes. Deference? She'd not been especially courteous to me – granted we'd been fighting, but even once my bona fides were established, I was viewed with suspicion. Giles instantly and automatically got 'sir'. I wondered if she reacted to all men like that or just Watchers.

"Uh, there's obviously some, some misunderstanding here," Giles said, moving on to the more pressing questions than Kendra's ties to the Watchers.

He was interrupted as Willow entered the library, a smile on her face. "Hey!" she said cheerfully, then broke off as Kendra wheeled upon her.

"Hi Willow," I said, before Kendra could say anything. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, real well," she assured me, not taking her eyes off of Kendra. "W-what's goin' on?"

"Willow, meet Kendra. Who is also apparently the Slayer," I explained.

"Is that even possible?" Willow asked, "I mean, two Slayers at the same time?"

"Not to my knowledge," Giles admitted. "Um, th-the new Slayer is only called after the previous Slayer has died."

"Halloween," I said, closing my eyes. "Not my favourite memory."

Giles frowned. "You think that Ethan's spell left you no longer the Slayer and that Kendra was called during the interval before the spell wore off?"

Interesting. I hadn't thought of that. Not the case I think – it's pretty clearly linked to Buffy drowning in the series, but it's a very plausible theory. "Not exactly," I said, keeping my eyes closed. I felt Willow's slim fingers against mine and I cupped her hand between my own, letting her support buttress me against the emotions. "I dressed as an Immortal that night. So long as I wasn't decapitated I couldn't die – so when Spike drained me, the spell revived me."

"Oh good lord!" Giles exclaimed. "You were dead! Why didn't you tell me, Buffy?"

"I was only dead a minute," I replied defensively. "It's not like there were any lasting effects – well, until Kendra turned up."

"But you were physically dead," Giles exclaimed. "Of course, it all makes sense now."

"So there really are two of them!" Willow gasped. I squeezed her fingers slightly.

"It would seem so. This is completely unprecedented!"

"She died?" Kendra asked him.

"Hey, right here, you know," I said, opening my eyes to look at her irritably. "And why are you in Sunnydale, anyway?"

"I was sent here," she explained. "Mr. Zabuto said all the signs indicate that a very dark power is about to rise in Sunnydale."

"Like that's news. This is Sunnydale – dark powers arise on a weekly basis," I complained. Then I frowned. "Waitaminute – your Watcher sent you here?"

"Yes – is that a problem?"

I stood. "And you heard nothing about this, Giles?"

"Not a word," he confirmed.

"So the Watcher's Council sent you here," I snarled grimly to Kendra, "to fight this dark power. And they didn't tell you that I was here? Or tell me that you were coming? Are they total idiots? Don't they have the slightest notion about co-ordination? What if one of us had killed the other? That sort of information should be passed on as a matter of routine!"

.oOo.

"You talk about slaying like it's a job," she said. "It's not. It's who you are."

I shrugged and the smile on my face was a cold one. "Perhaps once," I conceded. "But I don't think that's true anymore."

Kendra frowned. "I do not understand."

"I was pretty pissed off when you turned up," I explained. "Saying you were the Slayer. The only one, so to speak. Not because I think you're wrong. Because I think you might be right. Since Halloween..." I shook my head. "Since I died... it's not been the same. When you went into the church, you could feel the vampires, right?"

"Of course." Kendra looked surprised, then her eyes widened. "You could not?"

"I've always been a bit below par at that," I explained. "Giles and I did some research and there's quite a range of capability at the various, uh, effects of being the Slayer. I'm on the low end for the supernatural senses and the like. But I still had some. Now? Weird dreams, but that's it. I think when the Slayer spirit went to you, it took some of that with it. I've got the remnants – the physical capabilities, but not the full package anymore."

"So you think..."

I shrugged. "I think that you're the Slayer. And that I'm not. Just a remnant who still has the rep."

Kendra tilted her head and considered that. "No – you're still a Slayer." She tapped the side of her head. "In here. Still," she hesitated. "Still my sister."

I grinned a little weakly. "Yeah well I don't know how Dawn will feel about that."

I moved closer to hug her goodbye and she backed up. "I don't hug."

I gave her a mock scowl. "There's no escaping the soppy sister hug of doom. You've sealed your own fate."

Kendra sighed and submitted. "You are strange," she whispered before I let her go.

.oOo.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Xander asserted.

"Xander," Willow retorted. "He was obviously in charge."

"He was a puppet! She was using him!"

"He didn't seem the type of guy who would let himself be used," Willow said, sticking to her guns.

"Well that was her genius!" exclaimed Xander. "He didn't even know he was playing second fiddle." He turned to me. "Buffy."

"Mm?" I responded absently. It had been a boring patrol (unsurprising, I didn't do any of the risky stuff when the others were with me, partly because they might get hurt and partly because they might raise some silly moral objection to looting the bodies) but fortunately, it was almost over now.

"Who was the real power?" he asked. "The Captain, or Tennille?"

"Uh…" I said, racking my brain. "Who?" I'd never heard of them, although I later learned that they were a band from way back when.

"The Captain and Tennille?" Xander said incredulously. "Boy, someone was raised in a culture-free environment!"

"Do you think Priss and Leon get together?" I asked reasonably.

The two of them exchanged looks. "Er… who are Priss and Leon?" asked Xander, raising one finger questioningly.

"Now who's culture free?" Okay, a petty sort of jibe – I don't think AnimEigo have even licensed Bubblegum Crisis yet – but I can be a petty sort of person sometimes. Sorry about that.

.oOo.

"Willow! I could kiss you!" I said, looking at the list of marriage certificates. Then I paused and thought about that. "In fact… I think I will!"

.oOo.

"Impulsive?" I mused out loud. "Act on, you know, impulse? What a remarkable notion."

"You should try it," Willow assured me. "I mean, I -"

She didn't manage to finish her sentence, largely because I had leant forwards and pressed my lips gently against hers.

We stood there, kissing, her wide eyes staring into mine as heads turned. Then I straightened, moving away slightly. "Impulse," I said softly. "I like it."

.oOo.

The hospital was very quiet.

The parts I was in were quiet anyway. I guess the two cops flanking me and shooting wary looks in my direction tended to encourage discretion.

The expression on my face as I paced off the nervous energy flowing through me might have had something to do with it as well.

The police had 'allowed' me to accompany the others to hospital when I made it clear that they'd have to shoot me to get me to go anywhere else. Snyder would probably have had them shoot me anyway, but they weren't quite willing to go that far.

The score was quite brutal. Darla and Drusilla had gone through my friends with terrifying thoroughness. Kendra had received massive transfusions and was on full life support. The doctors didn't hold out any real hope of saving her and I wasn't sure how much further the vitality of being a Slayer could sustain her beyond their expectations.

The others – Xander had gotten off lightest with a broken arm. Amy had a nasty concussion and she'd lost a lot of blood – although not enough to put her at risk, thank god. Jesse had internal injuries and multiple broken ribs. There had been damage to his sternum so he wouldn't be walking for weeks. Willow was in a coma, the result of head trauma, and it was unsure if she'd wake up, although it the doctors were still quite hopeful.

And there were three missing.

Giles. Jenny. And –

"Buffy!"

No, that wasn't ri- I turned. "Dawn!" I was almost knocked from my feet by a bundle of preteen emotions as Dawn buried her face against me. I ignored the police officers as I wrapped my arms around her, my own tears flowing freely.

"You're okay?" I demanded fiercely.

"I ran," she wept. "I think I made it through three blocks before I realized nobody was chasing me." I tightened my arms around her. If a vampire had gotten to Dawn...

Hell would have regretted leaving a door where I could get at it.

"Buffy, what's going on?" asked my Mom. I looked up to see her in the doorway, looking enraged and terrified in equal measure. "Dawn called me to pick her up and when I went to the school, your Principal said..."

"I can imagine what he said," I said flatly. Lifting Dawn in my arms I nodded to one of the police officers and sat down, settling my sister in my lap. "You did good, Dawnie," I told her. "You did exactly the right thing."

She sniffled which I took to mean that she understood what I was saying, even if she didn't really believe it.

"Buffy." Mom was getting impatient.

"Someone attacked the library," I said flatly. "I was running an errand for Mr. Giles and I left Dawn there with Amy and the others for a few minutes. Mr Giles and Ms Calendar were both there when I left. When I came back..." I shook my head. "It looked like a typhoon had gone through it. There was no sign of Dawn or the adults, just the others and all of them were hurt."

Joyce gasped. "Are they alright?"

I shook my head. "None of them have woken yet. Will and Kendra might not wake up at all. I was giving Kendra CPR when the police arrived and Snyder accused me of doing it. Of hurting the others. That's why I'm under guard. Until the one of the others wakes up and gives their testimony I'm the main suspect."

The two officers looked uneasy under Mom's glare and I shook my head to stop her before she said anything. "They're doing their jobs, Mom. That's not their fault, it's Snyder's." They relaxed a bit. "Of course," I added sarcastically. "If the police department were up to scratch in the first place this might never have happened at all."

They glared at me but before they could say anything another officer came out of the ward my friends were in. "Mr Harris is awake," he said shortly. "And he's confirmed Ms Summers' story – she wasn't involved."

Some of the tension in the hall left. Just not the load on my shoulders. First Cordelia, now this.

I've killed Nest, I've killed Spike. And still they keep coming. Angelus. Darla. Drusilla.

It's enough. More than enough.

I remembered a line from the Sun Tzu, the book Giles gave me for my birthday.

This is Death Ground.

Time to take the fight to them.

.oOo.

The door to Giles' apartment was ajar when I got there. I had a moment of hope at that, before I remembered where Giles had ended up originally. Hopefully he and Jenny had been luckier this time.

"Giles!" I called as I entered the apartment. Not a sign of either of them.

"I don't think he's here," came a voice from the stairs. I turned and spotted a small man in the ugliest clothes I've ever seen. Well, I could make a guess or two about who he was.

"Who the hell are you?" I snarled.

"Whistler."

"The balance demon. Fuck. Last thing I needed was you clowns arsing around." I glared at him. "I'm on a timetable, puppet. What're you doing here?"

He flinched. "Waiting for you." Then he used a name and I froze in disbelief. Because he didn't call me Buffy Summers. He used my name. My real name.

"You sonofabitch!" I whispered. "You did this. You sent me here."

"No! No!" he protested, backing up the stairs. "Wasn't us – well not really."

I glared. "You've got about three seconds to turn that into me not removing your lungs through your nose."

"Buffy was gone, that's not us. Someone had to replace her, we arranged for it to be you," he babbled.

"I'm listening," I told him in a flat voice, crossing my arms across my chest. "But make it fast."

He sighed. "Look, you know more about how this would have played out than I do. Buffy would have gotten kicked out of the house and left Sunnydale over the Slaying, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she ran into a Vengeance Demon called Halfrek."

"Deals in, what...? abandoned kids? Abused kids?"

"Something like that. Buffy wished that she hadn't gone through everything that happened in Sunnydale. That someone else would be the Slayer. Halfrek granted the wish and made it so that 'someone else' would live Buffy's life from when she got to Sunnydale."

I didn't ask what happened to the original Buffy. Vengeance Demons don't generally grant wishes to suit those who make the wishes happy. "From then 'til when?"

"Always," Whistler said. "This is your life now."

"And you chose me for this? What, were you nuts?"

He shrugged. "It wasn't me personally. We couldn't let just anyone take over – whoever got the Slayer powers had to handle them responsibly under a lot of pressure. Buffy just couldn't keep it together, another reaction like that – well, the consequences could be cosmic in scale. You met the criteria, you had a suitable destiny, you had a basic knowledge of the situation…"

"Suitable destiny?"

"Short and, er, meaningless," he admitted. "You were never going to do anything important, kid. You were gonna die anyway, traffic accident. Instead, we just arranged to move you up the schedule a bit and instead of moving on, your soul came here."

"Just like that?"

Whistler laughed nervously. "Well, it was a major working, but, yeah… please don't hurt me?"

I shook my head. "I don't have time for you." And killing the bearer of bad news isn't a good idea, however satisfying it might be. "Tell me what you know about what's going on. If this is my world now I'd rather it didn't all go smash on my watch."

.oOo.

I'd done the research already, but I'd been keeping this in reserve for when I really, really needed it. And according to my expectations that wouldn't have been until Glory turned up. But, there had always been the chance of something going badly wrong and my needing them.

And that's why I was creeping around the caves under Sunnydale, looking for one very special demon.

There was a growling sound from behind me and I turned to see a rather large demon – of the brown and scaly variety with an extra order of thorns and not much of a neck – advancing on me.

"Hi!" I said brightly. "You'd be a Nezzla demon, right?"

More growls and it swung at me clumsily. I took that to be a yes – it sure matched the description and really – what other sort of demon would be hanging around this barrier?

"Look, I'm really sorry to bother you, but I'm really in a hurry. I need to borrow the Orbs of Nezzla'khan and I'm really not gonna take no for an answer." I hesitated. "Actually, borrow isn't really the word, is it. I'm gonna take them and use them and then I'll probably hide them someplace for future use."

It roared loudly and managed to get a grip on me for a moment, flinging me towards the barrier. I hit the floor and managed to stop rolling before I hit it. "Look, I'm sorry!" I shouted, "but really – it's this or Acathla! I can't stop him alone!"

For a moment the demon loomed over me and I pulled myself to my feet. It seemed... hesitant, then gestured towards one of the walls. I blinked in incomprehension and it grumbled something and pointed at me, then gestured again.

What? I edged towards the indicated wall and the Nezzla dashed past me and through the barrier before I could stop it.

Oh that's just great! Now what was I supposed to do? There was no way I could get through to Angelus on my own – there would be at least a dozen vampires besides Darla and Drusilla to slow me down, plus he'd almost certainly try to use Jenny and Giles as hostages.

And I... I couldn't let that stop me. Acathla was too dangerous.

I stood there for minutes, hoping for another crack at a Nezzla. Then I turned away. I needed to get to the Mansion before dawn and I still had to collect a few things from the library.

I'd only taken a few steps when I heard someone approaching from behind. Turning back I saw a Nezzla demon – the same one as before? I'm still not sure – lumbering towards me with a determined look on its face and a small wooden box in its hands.

It crossed the barrier and held the box out to me. I eyed it and then took it from him. The demon bowed reverently – to the box I think, not to me – and placed it's hand on top of the box. The sides glowed for a moment and I felt the lid loosen. The Nezzla took the lid off and then lifted the box out of my hands, holding it so that I could remove the contents.

Two small glass orbs, marked with white symbols.

The Orbs of Nezzla'khan!

I looked at the Orbs and then up at the demon holding them. "Why?"

The huge demon grated out a single word, obviously straining its vocal chords to pronounce "'kthla."

Whoa. I nodded in understanding and bowed to him and to the Orbs. "Thank you." Reaching into the box I lifted the orbs out, holding one in each hand. The demon stood back and looked at me expectantly.

"What now?" I asked him. I was holding the Orbs but I didn't feel any different. Then a bright purple light exploded from the two globes and surrounded me. I yelped in surprise, and then cried out as I felt power rip through me. It was almost... Oh god! It felt good. I could easily become addicted to that sensation.

A moment later it was over leaving me shaking. The demon grunted with what I guess was satisfaction and lumbered back through the barrier, leaving me standing alone, gazing down at the Orbs I was carrying.

Now then... how was I going to carry these things?

.oOo.

The library was always quiet. Now it was deathly silent.

There was police tape cordoning off most of the floor – protecting the evidence I suppose. Not that it would do the police any good but there were probably a few who thought it would help them catch the perpetrators. One way or another I doubted that would happen.

I ignored the tape – what I wanted was in the book cage. I did spare a glance for the scattered spell components – the materials that might have brought back Cordelia. Not much chance of that now. Oh well. I'd never been terribly in favour of it anyway. Let her soul rest in peace.

The cage was locked but Giles kept a spare key in a box under the counter so I didn't have any trouble opening it. I opened the weapons locker and started picking through it. No, no, no... aha. There it was. I pulled the long-handled crescent axe out of the cupboard. Looked like it could do a bit of damage. I couldn't find the sword I needed and then spotted Kendra's bag – still under the table in the main part of the room.

I ducked under the tape and was pulling the bag out when I heard the door open. "You do know this is a crime scene, don't you?" Great, Snyder. I ignored him and unzipped the bag. Aha! One broadsword, blessed by the knight who took down Acathla last time. "But then... you're a criminal, so that pretty much works out."

I closed the bag and replaced it under the table and approached him, carrying the sword. "You're deeply stupid, aren't you," I told him. "The police know I had nothing to do with it." I went back to the cage and provided myself with a scabbard for the sword and clipped it at locket and chape to the scabbard of my bokken, slinging the pair of them diagonally across my back, hilts above my right shoulder.

"It doesn't matter anyway," he said in a satisfied tone. "You've proved too much of a liability for this school." He took a deep breath and his voice took a confiding tone. "These are the moments you want to savour. You wish time would stop so that you could live them over and over again." He smiled smugly. "You're expelled."

I looked at him pityingly and lifted then axe. "Like I said. Deeply stupid. Do you really think that that matters now?" I stalked towards him, keeping the axe low, and he backed up towards the counter. "You don't have any idea, do you? You know a few things about what goes on after the sun sets and you think that you know everything? You don't know anything."

I turned and headed for the door. "Right now? You'd better pray I come back. The alternative is much, much worse."

.oOo.

"Oh trust me," I said with a distant calm. "They'll be distracted all right."

"Buffy, there at least three Master Vampires in there. They took down Kendra and she's the Slayer now. You're not…" Xander broke off. "You're not the Slayer anymore. Are you sure you can do this?"

"Yes."

"Cuz, no pressure or anything, but the whole world's at risk here."

"Yes."

Xander frowned. "Why're you all Ms. Monosyllable all of a sudden?"

I turned my head to face him. "Ask me later. It's time."

He might have said something… but I didn't hear him as I raised my axe in both hands and charged headlong at the mansion's heavy door, launching myself in a leaping kick. I did hear an incredulous chuckle from him in the moment before I hit the door feet first, with a shout of "CANNON DRILL!"

.oOo.

The door was sturdy and well secured, so it didn't explode as my feet hammered into it. Nor did the hinges break from the frame. I was seriously impressed by the craftsmanship, but it didn't matter.

Because the combination of the Slayer's strength and the Orbs of Nezzla'khan was sufficient that I blasted the entire door and frame out of the wall as a single piece and sent it skidding through the entrance hall. There were two vampires guarding the door but momentum was on my side as I rode the door across the room. One was crushed under the door and the other crumbled to dust as I 'surfed' past him.

I took a moment to kick the half-crushed bloodsucker's head off of its shoulders and heard Xander running after me as I plunged deeper into the mansion. I hadn't been terribly quiet and that meant I was on the clock.

I heard Angelus' voice raised in surprise from behind the door at the far end of the hall and I smashed the door open with the axe, not even breaking stride.

There they were.

Angelus was stood in front of Acathla, head turned in annoyance at the interruption. He was flanked by Darla and Drusilla. No sign of Cordy, but there were at least a dozen other vampires in the room. No sign of Giles or Jenny either. Damn.

My lips curled. "Oh! Am I interrupting something? Sooooorry!"

"I don't have time for you," Angelus told me.

I shrugged. "You shouldn't keep leaving loose ends lying around then." I flicked my axe almost idly and the vampire who was trying to flank me went flying against the wall, whereupon he dissolved into dust. "You didn't really think it was going to be that easy, did you?"

He chuckled. "Coming on kind of strong, don't you think? You're playing some deep odds here. Do you really think you can take us all on?"

I grinned and hurled my axe at him in blur of spinning metal that crossed the room in less time than it took for a camel to spit.

He dodged of course. "Missed me," he taunted like a schoolboy.

I smirked. "Wasn't aiming for you."

He whirled and then screamed in frustration as he saw that the sword embedded in Acathla was reduced to about half the blade. I wasn't really paying attention though. The minute he turned away, I whipped out my bokken and laid into the assembled vampires.

The next few moments were a whirlwind of combat as I snatched up a candelebra (unlit obviously) in my left hand and used it to beat back the horde of vampires while I laid into them with the bokken.

I'd take heart shots if I could get them, but they weren't too forthcoming, so I left more vampires lying on the ground or embedded in the walls and furniture, waiting for their shattered joints and skulls to regenerate than I left as piles of dust.

None of them even laid a finger on me until Darla leapt into the fray. She'd obviously been practising, because her punch crashed against the side of my face with all the power of a Japanese bullet train. My head snapped around and I back-stepped as every other vampire around me tensed to leap upon me.

Then I snapped my head around to face Darla and my lips were wide in a feral grin.

She was too close for me to thrust at her, but I brought the bokken up and across in a flawless cut, almost the entire length of the 'blade' making contact with her torso at the same instant. If it had been a real katana, she would have come apart on me. Instead, the bokken hardly slowed as it continued up and across to decapitate another vampire.

Darla's body curved gracefully up and into the air, in a macabre imitation of a somersault that came apart as she crashed through one of the interior walls.

The vampires drew back and I saw fear in their eyes. "Oh yeah," I whispered into the silence, knowing they could hear me perfectly. "Can you hear the Bob Dylan?"

"Bob Dylan?" asked one of the vampires, obviously young and dumb – dumber, anyway.

I lunged and drove my bokken into his chest, ripping it out and cutting down one of his friends who was looking a little too lively for my liking. "Blowing in the wind, arsehole."

"The naughty princess is strong," Drusilla announced, having been mercifully quiet until now. Her eyes were dark and dreamy as she stepped towards me. "But she has stolen the strength of another."

Dark eyes locked with mine and I felt a curious lassitude fall upon me. I felt my eyelids lower and a numbness in my mind. I was tired and sad and filled with grief. There was no room for anger, no room for hate. I felt the welcoming peace of those dark pools of eyes…

"GRAAAAAAAARGH!" I shouted and tore my mind free of Drusilla's influence. Eyes wild I leapt forward with an animal scream as I opened my hands, heedless of the weapons I dropped in the mad need to close my hands around the stunned looking vampiress.

The vampires parted around me as I lunged across the room and Drusilla reeled backwards under my frenzied assault. In the six paces it took to pin her up against the wall I'd broken her nose, driven one clawing finger through her right eye and reduced her antique gown to a tattered ruin.

"Oh you do not try that mind control shit on me," I snarled as her whimper of terror inspired my higher mental functions to finish rebooting. Then I drove my hand forwards and upwards, up beneath her ribcage.

"Daddy," Darla whimpered pleadingly as my hand closed around her dead heart. "Daddy."

When I closed my hand, it was filled with dust.

I turned back to the vampires in the room. "Well now," I whispered, letting the dust pour out of my hand. "I guess the way to her heart really was through her stomach."

.oOo.

The vampires were dead or fled. Darla still hadn't returned to the fight. Drusilla was just a part of the dust on the floor.

"Now that's everything, huh?" I asked Angelus mockingly. "No demon... No minions... No hope. Take all that away... and what's left?"

The response was one I had never in my direst nightmares thought I'd hear.

"How about, oh I don't know… me?" asked Heinrich Joseph Nest as he swept into the room, Cordelia Chase on his arm. She looked like a million dollars. He looked… pretty revolting actually. He and leather didn't really go well together. And then there's the whole vampire face thing...

"Bugger," I said.

.oOo.

The Master stepped forwards and then halted as Cordelia, rather than letting go of his arm, held it tighter and tugged gently on it. "What is it?" he asked, rather impatiently.

"There's something I need to say to Buffy before you kill her."

"And why, my dear, should I indulge you in this?" the ancient and reborn vampire snapped.

"Because it will hurt her," Cordelia said matter-of-factly. "Don't you want to break her heart?"

The Master shrugged and opened his mouth to voice what looked from his face to be a refusal when Angelus spoke up. "Just make it quick, Cordelia. We've all got our plans for Little Miss Vampire Slayer."

The two male vampires glared at each other and then the Master shrugged. "You see what happens when you indulge a child?" he asked rhetorically. "Oh go ahead, but make it entertaining."

"I can hear my soul, Buffy," said the demon with Cordelia's face. "Did you know that?"

I shook my head, wondering where this conversation was going.

"Most vampires can't," she replied candidly. "Just me and Drusilla. We're special, because Angelus made us like this."

Well if Cordelia's death had been anything like Drusilla's, then she was right. It did hurt to hear that.

"She doesn't like me very much," Cordelia confided. "But there's someone she hates more than me, Buffy. She hates you. She hates you even more than I do. I don't think she ever told you that, did she?"

.oOo.

I rose to my feet. Drusilla, check. Angelus, check. Cordelia… I'm sorry Cordy, requiem in pacet, check. Joseph Nest, check? I crushed his skull under my boot. Yeah, check. No one's gonna be reviving him now. I fished through my jacket until I found a condom full of holy water that hadn't ruptured during the fight, and emptied it over the remains. Better safe than sorry.

What did that leave?

Oh yeah. No point in taunting Angelus about leaving loose ends if I'm going to make the same mistakes.

I had spotted movement through Darla's hole in the wall during the fight, so I was cautious stepping through it.

There wasn't anyone waiting for me though. No, perhaps I was wrong about that. There was someone, it just wasn't the scorched place on the carpet where a vampire had obviously burned in the sunlight that streamed through an open window. Someone had pried the cover off and the vampire had obviously taken a direct shot of the rising sun.

But there was someone else in the sun.

Giles's eyes stared emptily at the ceiling.

"Oh god, no!" I gasped and leapt to his side.

There was blood underneath him – fresher than the dried blood on his clothes and I could see the two holes in the side of his neck. I lowered my face over his but there was no breath against my cheek, no movement of his chest. "Giles… please, no..." Hot tears trickled down my face and fell onto his as I lifted his… his body and held it against mine. "Please don't be dead."

.oOo.

Rupert Giles

Father * Teacher * Beloved

1954-1998

His Legacy is Our Future

.oOo.

I picked up the phone, opened Giles' phone book to 'T' and dialled the first digits for a call to England. Then I dropped the phone handset back onto the cradle, closed the book and went to sit at Giles' chair in front of Giles' desk to think about it a little more.

Rinse and repeat. I'd been doing this for most of the morning.

At that, I wasn't doing one hell of a lot better than the rest of the guys. Willow and Kendra hadn't woken up yet. On the other hand, they hadn't died either – good thing. However, that left the gang gathered around Jenny in the library badly depleted: Jesse in his wheelchair; Amy who still had bandages around her head; and Xander, sunk into deep depression over his 'failure'.

The fact that he'd killed Darla by opening the shutters over the east-facing window while she was busy didn't seem to register. Nor did the miracle that he'd even managed to get Jenny out of the mansion, given the number of vampires in it. All he could see was the death of Giles and that he had not been able to prevent it.

Irony. The real Buffy would know what it was to feel that way – Merrick being her case study. Now I did too – because I was the one who'd thrown Darla into that room. I'd not known, of course, that Xander would use that route to take the tortured Giles and Jenny out of the mansion. And I'd not been able to follow up and finish her while I still had Angelus and Drusilla to fight, along with a coterie of their minions and the resurrected Heinrich Joseph Nest.

And, of course, the reason that Jesse was mourning for two people tonight.

Cordelia Chase had died last year. Now the demon that had taken her body was back in hell. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

And I, of course, was waffling over a phone call.

Funny how some people cope, isn't it.

No. It's not funny.

My hand closed around the handset again.

.oOo.

"I'm calling for a Quentin Travers."

"I'm calling with regard to Mr. Rupert Giles – a correspondent of Mr. Travers I believe."

"Mr. Travers. My name is Buffy Summers – I believe Mr. Giles may have mentioned my name to you once or twice."

"I regret to inform you that Mr. Giles died two nights ago."

"A vampire. She's dead, if that provides any satisfaction."

"I understand."

"Yes."

"No, he'll be buried here, where I can keep an eye on him."

"Bloody bastard," I said quietly as I put the phone down.

.oOo.

That, in case you hadn't guessed was my side of my first conversation with Quentin Travers. As you can tell, we didn't exactly take to one another.

.oOo.

"What was that?" asked Jenny as I left Giles' office.

"I called the Watcher's Council to let them know Giles is dead."

"Long call," she commented.

"Long time working up the gumption to make the call. As for the council: how sad, too bad, we'll send out a replacement. Arseholes."

The library was still a shambles from two nights ago. Following the attack on the mansion, I'd gone home and slept the sleep of, if not the just, then at least of the rather fatigued. Waking late in the afternoon, I'd had time to visit the hospital and explain to Jesse and Amy what was going on. Then I'd dragged Xander out of his funk back to the bungalow and we'd slept there (in separate bedrooms, gutterbrains!) on the grounds that I wasn't going to leave him either with his parents or alone.

Jenny had been with us, for similar reasons to Xander's, and now we had gathered in the school library to regroup. I suppose technically I shouldn't have been there, having been expelled by Snyder less than thirty-six hours ago, but honestly, how concerned do you think I am about school rules?

.oOo.

"…controlled circumstances, of course," an unfamiliar someone said as I entered the library next morning.

"So you don't have any actual experience, then?" Jenny said cuttingly to a youngish fellow in what looked like a moderately expensive suit. "Hello Buffy."

"Morning, Janna," I replied. The man turned to face me and I recognised him instantly. "You'd be Wyndham-Pryce then?"

"Well… yes," he admitted, stepping forwards, holding his hand in greeting. I looked at it for a moment and then gripped it firmly, for a firm shake. "Wesley Wyndham-Pryce."

"Mr. Pryce is your new Watcher," Jenny said quietly, sitting down at the table.

I released Wesley's hand to put one hand comfortingly on Jenny's shoulder. There wasn't really anything to say that would help her, so there was an all too brief moment of shared grief before Wesley opened his fat mouth.

"Why don't you tell me everything about last night's patrol?"

I sighed. Oh bloody hell.

"It would be more productive to begin with your briefing," I told him. "Take a seat and take notes, there will be a short test following the lecture."

"Lecture?" Wesley asked, looking up from an open Watcher Diary with a look of some distress on his face.

"Siddown and shut up," I snarled. He complied. Bloody hell, if he folds like that in the face of a small blonde getting assertive, how'll he respond to some Big Bad? Not well, I suspect.

"I don't know what you were told back in England," I began. "However, I will remind you that whoever briefed you there was five thousand odd miles from the Hellmouth and was probably among the clique who've been sitting back and withholding information for no valid reason, damn near causing Kendra's death because they couldn't get off their arses. I will therefore assume that you know nothing and work from there."

"You are sat on the Hellmouth. Quite literally on it in fact. If the Hellmouth opens – and attempts to cause that are biannual at least – then humanity can look forward to a brief existence as cattle before demons the size of dinosaurs wipe us from the face of the universe. What stands between humanity and that fate is a motley crew of the inexperienced, the ill-trained and the ill-equipped – most of whom are school children. The Watcher's Council feels its job is to sit back in wealth and comfort while awarding points for our obeying their rules. You may note a certain bitterness – no, you aren't imagining it."

"I have nothing personally against you, but you are stepping into very large shoes. Rupert Giles was one hell of a Watcher and his death was a tremendous loss to us. Quite apart from the deep affection that we held him in, his responsibilities were considerable and must now be filled by others. I gather that Janna – Miss Calendar – is not impressed by your field experience?"

"I've killed two vampires," he protested.

"Under 'controlled circumstances'," Jenny quoted bitterly.

"That is better than nothing," I said calmly. "However, in comparison to the rest of the team you are a rank novice in fieldwork. That can be remedied. Very well. As Watcher, your two primary duties are the provision of occult information and logistical support. The latter is problematic for a several reasons that I will go into shortly. The information side will be the key factor in your usefulness. What are your research qualifications?"

He hesitated. "I've spent the last few years as Mr. Travers librarian," he said. "And I had the usual training. I should have no difficulty in that area."

"Good," I said. "I take it that you've made arrangements to fill the role of school librarian here?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, I have."

"Alright. The library is currently our major base of operations. If necessary I have a small stock of back-up equipment and a few of the more useful texts at home and I maintain a small property outside of town where we're building up a more substantial arsenal and library. In addition to the loss of Giles, the recent fighting with the Order of Aurelius has left practically everyone in the group injured – right now you and I are the only ones not on the sick list. Fortunately there appears to be something of a lull in local supernatural activity – there's been some fallout from the Order's defeat and some infighting over their turf."

"For the moment, you have the general responsibility of restoring and rebuilding this facility. I understand that you need to keep records – I will provide regular reports for that purpose, but you are not in charge and any attempt to treat members of my team as your 'soldiers' will not be accepted. If you demonstrate that you aren't a REMF then -"

"Excuse me," he said, raising his hand slightly. "REMF?"

"Rear Echelon Mother Fucker," I translated. He blushed. Unbe-Smegging-lievable. Where did the Council find him?

"In any event," I said. "You also have a particularly important mission. During the recent crisis, I was expelled from Sunnydale High School on questionable grounds, by the Principal. Since free access to the school is necessary in order to protect the Hellmouth, you'll need to arrange for that to be overturned. I suggest that you also arrange the admission of Kendra once she recovers. Having her Slayer senses on the campus everyday would be very useful."

.oOo.

Principal Snyder, to say the least, was not happy to see me. The thought of being able to say no cheered him up though. "Absolutely not. Under no circumstances."

"But you can't keep her out of school," Mom protested. "You don't have the right."

He smirked. "I have not only the right, but also a nearly physical sensation of pleasure at the thought of keeping her out of school. I'd describe myself as tingly."

"Buffy was cleared of all those charges."

"Yes. And while she may live up to the not-a-murderer requirement for enrollment, she is a troublemaker, destructive to school property and the occasional student," Snyder looked positively gleeful.

"Mom, perhaps I should handle this," I said, opening the folder on my lap. Wesley, bless his little cotton socks, had come through for me. Mom gave me a puzzled look – she didn't know what I had.

"Now then Principal," I said cheerfully. "I've had a very productive set of discussions with the Mayor, several members of the School Board and with a representative of the California Board of Education. What I've discussed with them includes my grade point average, disciplinary record, testaments on my character from quite a number of students, staff and residents of Sunnydale and, in the case of the Mayor, the possibility of international investigations of the local police and medical establishments."

I passed him photocopies of several of the letters. "Now, as you'll see, they all seem to be quite firmly in favour of my returning to Sunnydale High School. On that basis, I'm not asking you for anything. I'm offering you a choice between this being your opportunity to welcome me with - metaphorically - open arms, or this being a preliminary to a formal complaint lodged with the authorities that will see me reinstated as a student and you with serious problems obtaining employment – although Hot Dog on a Stick is hiring, so maybe your prospects aren't so dire."

He gaped. "International investigation? You're insane, you could never arrange that."

"No?" I said mildly. "You forget, Rupert Giles was a British national – if his family, who are politically connected, choose to raise a stink then the federal government will be very accommodating. And the Mayor would really rather avoid that sort of attention."

"Now, personally, you understand, I'd be delighted to see you squirm. But I have other obligations and from that perspective it would be slightly preferable not to expend the resources to get you kicked out. Slightly." I steepled my fingers. "Now, I believe that we understand each other?"

Snyder almost choked to death as he welcomed me back into Sunnydale High School.

.oOo.

"Glorificus!" I shouted, cracking my knuckles. "Exile! Loser! Outcast! Condemned One!"

The rubble shifted and she threw back the largest chunks, her pretty dress all torn and her hair a mess. Say it with me: awwww!

"Impudent little bitch!" she snarled.

"Glory," I said grimly. "It is my feeling that you and I need to talk. One woman to another."

"Out of my way, Slayer!" Glory shouted. "I am a Goddess! You and your kind are nothing but pondscum. If you won't stop trying to keep from my Key then I'll swat you aside like the bug you…"

She swung her fist to do just that. The impact when I caught it in my right hand drove my heels almost an inch into the ground. I could feel the bones in our hands grind under the forces behind them. Glory was used to brushing opponents aside. She wasn't used to actually fighting. I ploughed a straight left into her jaw, thanking God for the Orbs of Nezzla'khan.

Glory hit the ground heavily and spat out droplets of blood. She stared down as if she didn't recognise it, then wiped away the traces at the side of her mouth with the back of her hand. "You…" she gasped. "You stupid, selfish little monkey…"

"I am Buffy Ann Summers, Guardian of the Hellmouth. You've transgressed, against my sister. Against my family. Against me. Get up."

She obliged, leaping up and towards me, fists clenched and set to deliver strikes that would have obliterated entire buildings. "Wh-who do you think you are?" she spat. "Who do you think you are to order me? I'll…"

I backhanded her with my right fist, snapping her head backwards and flinging her to the floor. "I am Buffy Ann Summers, Guardian of the Hellmouth. Get up."

"Glorificus…!" wailed one of the little monstrosities Glory had brought with her.

"For god's sake, shut up!" hissed Faith, slapping it on the side of head. "Let me watch her work."

"Unngh," Glory groaned from the floor. "I-I'll kill you for this. I'll kill you. I am the stronger, the purer!" She might have been more convincing if I hadn't been hoisting her off the floor by her face. "You are of the filth and my blood is divine…"

"Yes," I agreed. "And it is on your clothes. On my hands. On the ground. Little girl, I do not believe you have yet understood the trouble you are in. I do not believe you understand just who you have offended."

"mom?" I heard Dawn whisper from behind me. "God, I'm glad you're okay, but… Buffy's in a real bad mood. I'm scared she might do something serious."

Joyce's voice was equally faint. "Dawn, when your sister is like this, it scares me. We have to keep out of this…"

"I just want to go home!" Glory shrieked at me.

"So do I," I replied coldly. "But if you do as you wish then all our homes will be destroyed."

"I don't care about you!"

"Likewise," I told her and released her face, locking one hand around her throat. She lashed out towards my head and we stood, facing each other – both with a hand around the other's wrist, trying to force those deadly hands away before her neck broke or my brain got sucked out.

Xander, bless him, broke the deadlock. There was no possible way that the stake he threw at her could have hurt Glory. But she flinched anyway – I guess she was having a bad enough day as it was and didn't want to chance him being up to something that could threaten her. I took the opportunity to shove her hand aside and butted her in the face, feeling her nose shatter as my forehead crunched against it. It cost me my grip on her throat but that wasn't working too well anyway.

She staggered and I took the opportunity to reverse her hold on my wrist and bring her arm up in a twist that it really wasn't hinged for. It dislocated and Glory screamed in agony before whirling faster than my eyes could follow and unleashing what I will confess was one hell of a left hook.

The next thing I knew I was embedded half way into a wall. With a growl I jerked loose and ran at her. She was trying, rather ineptly, to pop her shoulder back into joint and her guard was pathetic. My palm strike caught her right under the ribs and she ralphed all over me as I kept driving my hand into her, lifting her off the floor and them slamming her down with brutal force.