Author: Tim Knight

Title: For Every Action

Copyright: February 2000

Rating: PG-13 to R (fight scenes)

Spoilers: Buffy: Season 2 until Phases. Specific Episodes, Season Three involving the Mayor and the Ascension.

Highlander: Season 5 until Season finale. Richie Ryan lives. Specific Episodes: Samurai, anything from Season 1 with Darius. Also, Highlander: Endgame.

Diana Tregarde: Burning Water, Jinx High.

Chronicles of Wanderer: Midnight Visitations, Calling Out the Clan, How Buffy Got Her Sword, Be Careful What You Wish For, Faith's Story.

Immortal Realms Series: Immortal Realms 1 and 2.

Keywords: Buffy/ Highlander/ Kung Fu: the Legend Continues/ WildCATs (the comic book)/ Forgotten Realms/ Hercules: The Legendary Journeys/ Xena: Warrior Princess/ Diana Tregarde/ Anita Blake (yes, THAT Anita Blake).

Summary: When someone actually comes to the Hellmouth for a vacation, the Mayor misreads her intentions. He summons people (to use the term in the loosest possible sense) to keep a romance novelist from meeting an antiques dealer. They try to summon a big bad ugly sucker from Hell, but when the spell is interrupted, a number of Slayerettes are scattered across time and space. While the rest of the Scooby Gang tries to find and bring home their teammates, old enemies of certain heroes decide to combine forces to rid the world of some of its good guys.

Legalese: All characters except those noted below with their respective rights, properties, and copyrights are the property of the respective creators, authors, owners, producers and agencies. These characters are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended or meant, and no money will be made from this story. This story may be copied in its entirety, and may be distributed as long as all copyright information remains.

The characters Shaw Hunter, Raidon Nokuma, Kentaro Tanaka, Yuki Ojimo, Margaret Madison and Maria Delgado are mine. Anyone wishing to use them may contact me at doobytim@aol.com.

The characters Steven St. Wolf, Frank Iverson, Joe N'Gato, Marc La Chevalier, Randi Jessup, Brian Jessup, and Fragnar are property of Steve Pantovich, as is the universe in which this story takes place. Smaug is still up for grabs between Steve and J. R. R. Steve can be contacted at Steve711@concentric.net.

The character of Robin Goodfellow is property of Mike Weyer. Mike may be contacted at SWERJ321@msn.com.

The characters Thian (Theodore Iancroft), Andras, and anyone with pointed ears, glowing eyes, and the name of Stormbow, are the property of Crys, author of the Immortal Realms series. Her stories can be found at www.seventh-dimension.org. She can be reached at crys45@juno.com.

The characters Donk, Quentin MacLeod and Priscilla Halliwell (as well as his take of Little Washuu) are property of Nate Musto. He can be contacted at natemusto@yahoo.com.

The character Edwin Giles is the property of Norjc. He can be contacted at Norjc@aol.com.

Author's Notes: This story takes place at the beginning of April of 1999, approximately a month to two months after Avatars of Sung and Prodigal Son. Here are the areas where this story takes place in the timelines of some of your favorites:

WildCATS: A loooong time into the future. No effect on comic continuity.

Diana Tregarde: This story takes place perhaps four or five years after Jinx High. Di, in this story, is in her early- to mid-forties.

Anita Blake: The sections in this story involving the Executioner, for our purposes, take place sometime between Lunatic Café and Bloody Bones.

Dedications: To Steve, Grand High Poobah of the Wandererverse, Expert of Time Travel and Alternate Realities (even though we spend little time in ours), and not a Doctor, but THE Doctor. The genuine article, you might say.

To Rebekah and Jack, aka the Editors (yes, capital E in any universe), who prove that the Red Pen is mightier than the sword.

To Mike, for introducing Robin to the Wandererverse, and for letting me bounce ideas off of his head.

To Crys, for letting me use her characters in this story and for her appraisal of my ideas.

To Nate, for coming up with one of the more unique combinations of heroes I’ve seen this side of the Mystery Men.

Here are the changes from your regular shows:

Buffy: 
1. Due to her drowning death at the hands of the Master, Buffy is Immortal.
2. Passion and Becoming never took place, so Jenny and Kendra are still alive and well. Kendra is attending UC Sunnydale.
3. Faith is a good kid, and living with Joyce and Buffy.

Highlander: 
1. It seems that Duncan had two flashbacks in the year 1778, one where he stranded an evil Immortal on a bare island, ala Gilligan, and the meeting with Hideo Koto, who bequeathed unto a Highlander the dragonheaded katana we all know and love. It was never mentioned which took place first, so for my story the stranding took place first, and the shipwreck took place second. Duncan said in New Beginnings that he never got lost? Keep in mind that this is the man who navigated a ship into a hurricane in the wide-open Pacific Ocean. . . .

Hercules and Xena: 
1. Herc is the demigod playing himself on TV, and you know which episodes I’m talking about. Xena became a demigoddess through Ares, and Gabrielle is Immortal and partnered (in more ways than one) with Red Sonja.

WildCATS: 
1. Zealot and Grifter are still together. Grifter is a traditional Immortal (remember when the bartender said he hadn’t aged since 1973, and this was in Issue 1 waaaaaay back when. Made me suspicious.)

For Every Action

Part 1: Enter the Guardian (Do Or Di)

Livingston Residence
Sunnydale, California
31 March 1999

Sandra Livingston carried two plates over to her dining room table. She set them down and said, "Here you go. Sirloin, carrot slices, corn on the cob, and buttered rolls. Dig in."

The Literature teacher from Sunnydale High School sat down and watched her guest dig into her dinner with relish. She let out a grin and said, "Why do I get the feeling you're glad to be off of the road?"

Diana Tregarde shot her friend a nasty look. "Because it seems that all I have time for is mall food, fast food, or truck stop food. Be glad you don't have thousands of forty-something women coming up to you at Waldenbooks or B. Dalton outlets, hoping you'll solve all of their romance problems. Ye Gods, Sandy, think about the writer's cramps I get from signing all those autographs at those signings, let alone gripping a steering wheel later on!"

Sandra laughed. "Ah, the perils of being a romance novelist. That's what you get for being the best at what you do."

"Please," Di snapped. "I'm hardly Danielle Steele."

"Di, do you know the only difference between you and Danielle Steele?"

"Yes," the Guardian replied automatically, "hardcover."

The two shared a laugh over the old joke. Sandy brushed some of her chestnut hair out of her eyes as she regarded her friend.

"Di," the teacher said, "thanks for agreeing to do this. I want to give my class something special for the last grading period."

"Well, just remember," Diana said, "it's only for three weeks. I have a new novel to start."

Sandra arched an eyebrow. "Any spoilers?"

"No," her friend archly replied. She ate a piece of steak and said, "I'm serious, Sandy. I have three weeks. No hijinks, no boogey men, nothing. I am lecturing and editing, nothing more."

"What could possibly go wrong?" Livingston innocently asked. Seeing the glare from the author, she nodded. "I know, I know. Don't tempt fate."

Di then asked, "So, are we going to do the usual? The little Hemingway wannabes write their stories, leaving me with a hundred or so 'Great American Novels' to pore over every night while you watch TV?"

"Actually, Spooky," Sandra informed her, "my students work in trios or quartets. They work on assignments together and it exposes them to diverse styles of writing. So, at the most, you'll have about thirty 'GAN's.'"

"And. . ."

"And, I will help," the teacher promised with a raised hand. "Just remember; my students will probably want to frame the final products with your little red ink comments on them."

Di shook her head at the teasing. "One more request. . ."

"Don't worry," Sandra laughed. "I have forbidden my students from bringing in anything that might require you to enhance it with your John Hancock. Those writer's cramps will go away in no time."

"Thank the Lord and Lady!" the witch shouted. Amid more laughs, she said, "So, what subject did you assign them?"

"I didn't." At Di's upraised eyebrows, the Lit instructor said, "I told them to use their imaginations, and to loosely base the characters on themselves. I wouldn't want you to go without variety, Di."

Diana smiled and joked, "Great. I'm going to have endless teen romances for the next three weeks."

"Oh, I'll lay odds you get at least one action story."

*****

Sunnydale High Library
Sunnydale, California
31 March 1999

"This was great, Mr. Giles letting us use the library to study tonight," Jessica Smithson said to her partners in crime. "Okay, let's hear the idea again."

The other two women in the library looked at each other. One shrugged, so the second spoke.

"The storyline is this," Shaw Hunter began. "A group of people are enlisted by people from a city in another dimension, to aid them against a horde of vampires. The four people go to this dimension and find that it is a world of magic. Strangely enough, they are uniquely qualified to handle the situation. Along the way, the fighters gain unlikely allies; a pair of good vampires who are in love, the local Thieves Guild, a legendary female warrior, a fairy, and a shapeshifting dragon. They set out to eliminate the vampires and save the town."

David Abhrams chuckled and said, "Short version, Dracula meets Army of Darkness meets Magnificent Seven."

"Something like that," Faith Pryce admitted with a grin.

David asked, "What sick, demented mind came up with something like that?"

"Someone that I know in New York," Shaw told the group. "I. . . how do you say? Bounced some ideas off of his head."

"Cool," Jessica said enthusiastically. She reviewed her notes and continued. "So, the good vampires give us some romance, the Thieves Guild a cloak-and-dagger routine, the dragon lets us do literary special effects. . . what's the fairy for?"

"Comic relief," Faith and Shaw answered at the same time. Off the puzzled looks from the other two, Shaw added, "He will be our answer to the Genie from Aladdin."

"Oh, God," Jessica mumbled. She grasped the copy Faith had made of their outline and read it. After a few seconds, the flame-haired junior asked, "What's this? 'Redhead and man exhibit romantic tension?'"

"This is supposed to be us," Faith laughed. She stood up and stretched, working out some kinks in her back. "So, keepin' with Teach's orders. . ."

"Let's get to the character ideas," David suggested while the girls laughed. He looked around. "Who's first?"

"Go ahead, Dave," the dark-haired Slayer told him. She started for the office and said, "I'm gettin' something to drink."

"Bring water for us as well, please," Shaw called without looking. She sensed Faith glaring at her. <David and Jessica do NOT need to know about Giles' liquor cabinet.>

Dave smiled as he scanned his own notes. "Okay, my character; Abraham, last name to be determined. Ex-Navy SEAL with five years of service. He's an expert with heavy weapons and explosives, and has multiple black belts. Discharged and living in L.A. I'll figure out a job by tomorrow night." He offered a grin in Shaw's direction. "Sorry, Shaw, but I call dibs on the Special Forces angle."

"I have no complaints," Shaw said dryly. "At least you have thought about this."

"Am I up?" Jessica asked. At two nods, the young woman started reading. "Okay. Jesse Scott, age twenty-five. She works in a bookstore and lives in a cheap apartment in New Orleans. Unknown to those who know her, she's a practicing witch."

Shaw stared at Jessica, as did Faith, who had been returning from the office with a pitcher of water and four glasses. Faith asked, "Did you say, 'witch?'"

"Yes," she agreed with a grin. "We agreed the main characters have to be qualified in some way. Why not a witch?"

"I believe that we have some books on the subjects of witches and witchcraft," Shaw volunteered. "I will double check the shelves before I leave. If not, I will check the Internet and send you some websites."

"Thanks," Jess said as she jotted down some extra notes. "How about you, Faith?"

"You're gonna love mine," the New Englander promised. She sat back down and said, "I'm namin' her Hope. Born in South Boston, street kid, broken family, yadda yadda."

David frowned in sympathy at how closely the description mirrored Faith's own background. "What's the catch?"

The Slayer grinned widely. "She's the reincarnation of Joan of Arc. Sword and all."

David and Jessica just stared at her, while Shaw hid a knowing smile.

"Joan of Arc?" Jessica asked in surprise. Sending a glance Shaw's way, she said, "And I thought the witch thing was unique."

"It will still work, Jessica," Shaw assured her friend. "Faith, how does 'Hope' get the sword that Joan of Arc used?"

"Dreams, visits from angels," the Boston native said with a knowing grin. "They lead her to an old church, and 'voila!' Fancy magic sword. Besides, being a street kid'll get her in good with the thieves."

Dave grinned at the Slayer. "Sounds good to me, Boston. Jess?"

"You don't think it's too out there?" she asked. When David and Shaw shook their heads in unison, the head of the lit group said, "Okay, Hunter. Let's hear yours."

Shaw leaned back, folded her arms, and smiled. "Her name is Kay. She is a young woman attending a West Coast high school, pretending to be human. In reality. . ."

Shaw had to stop as Faith started coughing when some of her water went down the wrong way. Jessica jumped to her feet and began patting the Slayer's back to help clear her airway. After a minute or so, Faith sat down, glaring at her teammate the whole time.

Jessica asked, "Are you all right, Faith?"

"Yeah," she growled.

"If I may continue?" Shaw asked. Without waiting for an answer, the ranger went on. "Kay is actually Shawukay, the daughter of an elven noblewoman and a human warrior, and from the world the four people travel to. Shawukay fled to Earth after vampires killed her family years earlier. She is skilled with medieval weapons and cares nothing for her noble rank, as she is the elven equivalent of a Native American medicine man. Her faith grants her limited magical abilities, mainly healing, minor influence over the elements and nature, and the ability to communicate with animals."

"Xena meets Inigo Montoya meets Dr. Quinn meets Beastmaster," David added with a smirk. "If she's nobility, why does she go to high school?"

"She looks like a teenager, and is a woman from another world," Shaw replied. "What better way for her to learn about Earth?"

"You always have an answer for everything," the single man in the room sighed.

Shaw chuckled lightly. "I try to be thorough."

"Duh," Jessica and Faith noted together through their grins.

"Okay, so are going to work on the story tonight?" David asked the others.

Jessica was the one who answered. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We need to wait and see what Mrs. Livingston and Ms. Tregarde say about the outline. Heck, they may say no."

"I think not," Shaw offered. "We were told to use our imaginations."

"Yeah, Jess," Faith pitched in, toying with her pencil. "Let's just give the old ladies the 'script' and roll with the punches."

David nodded his agreement. "Right. We've got the outline, so let's just type it up and hand it in."

"I will do that on my computer," the half-elf told the group. "I have Faith's notes on a file, along with my own copy. I can add yours at home and e-mail a copy to Jessica. This way, we can keep up without having to meet every night."

"Sounds like a plan," Jessica's boyfriend decreed. "Faith?"

Faith grinned. "It’s five by five with me, D. Now why don't you two get out of here and have some fun, while we do the research thing?"

The two glanced at each other. Needing no further prompting, they packed up their books and headed out, holding hands as they left the library.

Faith mumbled, "Those two have got it bad, Hunter."

"At least they realize it," the woman replied as she organized her notes. Without looking up, she asked, "Are you looking forward to tomorrow?"

"I guess so. It's not every day you get to meet a famous sex writer," the Bostonian said with a shrug.

Shaw froze. "Sex writer?"

"Yeah," Faith said as she jumped up and sat on a table. "The Tregarde lady."

"She writes romance novels, Faith," Shaw said softly as she closed her folder. "Calling her a 'sex writer' makes it sound as if she writes pornography."

Faith started laughing at her friend. "I'll remember to bring that up at the Q&A tomorrow. So, have you read any of her stuff?"

Sighing at Faith's antics, Shaw still smiled. "As a matter of fact, yes. I was impressed with her research skills on historical pieces."

Faith's eyes narrowed in puzzlement. "Uh, Hunter? Have you, like, maybe missed the point to those books?"

"No, Faith," Shaw said with a light tone, "I have not missed the point. But to get back to our assignment, what do you think of our storyline?"

"I like it," she replied with a grin. "Jess threw me with the witch thing. Man, I saw vamps suddenly coming in and us bailing them out."

"So did I," Shaw sheepishly grinned. "I do wonder about one thing, though?"

"What?" Faith giggled. "Whether the gang is gonna be pissed that we're leaving them out of our rip-off of the Krondor fight, or if they'll be glad we left them out?"

"Exactly," Shaw said. She returned the human's smile. "Do you have anything else to add, Faith?"

"Yeah," the Slayer admitted. She slid off the table and moved to pour herself another glass of water. "Is that character your way of telling Dave and Jess?"

Shaw sighed. "They are my only friends who do not know. If the truth ever came out. . ."

"They'll deal," Faith said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "They're good kids."

"If they are kids, then what are you?" Shaw said as she turned around to look at her friend.

"I am a damn fine woman."

The two shared more laughs. Faith then commented, "Oh, I like that noble elf thing. Classy."

When Shaw froze momentarily, Faith sensed that something was up. "What is it, Redeye? C'mon, spill."

"It is nothing," Shaw said, far too quickly. "I care nothing about it."

Unfortunately for Shaw, the dark-haired Slayer made the connection from the statement. "Wait a minute here, Hunter. You're not telling me that's *real*, are you? Shaw?"

Shaw's only response was to moan and allow her head to smash into the table.

Faith now had a large grin on her face. "You're, like, real royalty? Elf style, I mean? This is so cool!"

"Faith. . ." Shaw whined in an attempt to dampen the Slayer's enthusiasm.

It failed. "Wow! Wait'll the guys find out-"

"NO!" Shaw shouted. She quickly cast a shielding spell that blocked any exit from the library. When Faith turned to Shaw in confusion, she tried to speak calmly. "Faith, I am going to say this only once. I am *not* royalty. My mother's family is minor nobility, at best. And no one is to be told of this."

"Why not?" the confused Pryce asked. "Are you telling me they don't know? Not even Madison?"

"No, Faith," Shaw tiredly said. "I have never contacted my mother's relatives. It is only through Lord Parkin that I even know such relatives exist."

Faith sat down, still grinning. "So how are you a blue blood, Hunter? Did your mom marry into it or something?"

"Of course not," the priestess sighed. She said, "Faith, I am sorry about my reaction. But this is a sensitive subject for me. To answer your question, it is quite simple. Do you remember the books by Elaine Cunningham I told you about? Involving swords known as moonblades?"

Faith's eyes lit up as she figured it out. "So somewhere on that rock you come from, you've got a nana, aunt, or cousin or something, running around and swinging one of those moonswords?"

"Moonblades," Shaw reiterated in a tone of defeat. "Lord Parkin spoke of this in the present tense, so I must assume the answer is 'yes.'"

"Cool," the younger fighter said. She stood up and began to pack her books. "But tell my why you won't tell the others."

"Xander. Cordelia. Giles."

Thinking back to how Xander and Cordelia had started calling Giles "Lord Giles," or worse, "Sir G-Man," as well as calling him other nicknames and incessantly bugging the Watcher about his noble birth (the information having been leaked to the two by Jenny), Faith’s eyes rose as a sign of her comprehension. "Okay, Shaw. But don't think I won't get in my own shots on you in private."

Shaw just resigned herself to the inevitable. "Fine," the woman said, "but please keep it between me, yourself, and Willow."

"I promise," Faith laughed. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Shaw snorted and jokingly said, "Do not force me to make you keep that promise."

The two cleaned up in preparation for leaving the library.

*****

Sunnydale High School
Sunnydale, California
1 April 1999

Shaw and Faith met at the top of the stairs and walked to Comparative Literature. Faith grinned and said, "Well, are we ready to rock?"

"Yes, we are," Shaw said with eagerness.

The two walked to class, ignoring the looks they knew the boys were sending their way. As always, Faith was dressed to kill, decked out in a sleeveless red blouse that was cut high, exposing her midriff, a shining silver skirt that ended just above mid-thigh, and a pair of open toed heels whose price tag easily topped one hundred dollars. In short, it was the Slayer's latest attack in her "war" with Cordelia over who possessed the better ensemble.

Shaw could care less, even though her more conservative outfit basically hugged and defined her assets instead of showing them off, hinting at what lay underneath. The senior Slayerette wore one of her favorite tops; a deep blue, silk blouse that joined with her hair to bring out her face and eyes. Her black jeans hugged what little hips she had, and black ankle boots completed the ensemble. Despite her no nonsense attitude, she did accent her outfit with jewelry; a pair of rings, black star sapphire earrings in gold mounts, and a silver bracelet that matched the hair clasp she wore to keep her hair in a simple tail. Even so, it was nearly impossible to control her entire coif; a few strands had pulled loose at the sides of her head over the course of the day, their naturally wavy state giving off a minor impression of innocence.

As they neared the door, Faith stiffened. Shaw stopped and looked around before saying, "What is it?"

"Someone just 'reeks,' Hunter," Faith softly said. She wrinkled her nose and said, "I mean, really, really SMELLS."

<Faith's way of saying that someone with powerful magic is nearby," Shaw concluded. She quickly came up with a plan. "I am going to cast a pair of obscuring spells. They will hide our own magic, making it undetectable to normal scrying spells."

Faith was uncertain; it was one thing to work with witches and a priestess, but another thing entirely to let them use magic on you. However, she trusted Shaw, so she nodded.

Shaw said a quick prayer. Faith could "feel" the difference as the spell hid Shaw's mystical abilities. She still received a faint sensation, but that too soon faded. Shaw cast the spell a second time, and Faith now had her abilities masked from casual detection.

"Let us see what we shall see," Shaw said with a neutral voice.

Faith nodded with determination and the two girls entered the classroom.

Di watched as the last students of the day filed into the classroom. Thankfully, it had been a refreshingly fun day. Of course, as she had expected, many of the students in this school were dressed for success. A wry grin came to her face. <Of course, what kind of success they're looking for depends on the students.> She then rolled her eyes. <Case in point.>

The Guardian watched as two dark-haired beauties entered the room. They were obviously the last arrivals, as Sandy smiled and closed the door behind them. These two were perfect examples; one was wearing tight clothing, the other revealing items. <Kids these days. I wish we'd had clothes this good when I was their age,> she wryly thought. <Then again, I was thinking about other things when I was their age. Boogey men, monsters, and saving the world. Oh well, kids these days. . .>

Di's musings were cut off when she saw one of the two young women staring in her direction. It was the black-haired girl wearing the tight outfit, and Diana saw her hazel eyes appraising her. Diana smiled inside; was the girl jealous that she looked as good as she did at her age? <Awww. Poor baby.>

The green-eyed junior sat down, but her eyes stayed on the witch for a few seconds longer before moving to her books.

Di smiled and looked at her long time friend, who walked up to the blackboard.

Sandra took up a piece of chalk and started writing. She wrote down Diana's name, the name of the company that published her novels, and then, "How To Write Like A Professional." She then set down the chalk and turned to the kids.

"Good afternoon," she started, using her "lecturer" voice. It still didn't keep a smile from coming to her face. "I know you're not here to listen to me talk, so I'll make it quick and relatively painless."

The kids let out a couple of laughs, drawing a smile from Diana. Sandra's grin widened and she said, "So, without further ado, allow me to introduce our guest for the next three weeks, Miss Diana Tregarde."

The kids all turned around in their desks, watching as Di walked up to the front of the room. Sandy, in turn, moved off to the side so that she could keep an eye on the entire class. The author leaned against Sandra's desk and smiled.

"Hi," she said, opening a speech that she'd streamlined over the last few years, "I'm Diana Tregarde, and I'm an author. My specialty is romance novels." Di stood up and made a show of showing off her outfit; leotard, blue jeans, boots and her hair tied in a tail. "This may surprise you, but this is my normal work outfit. Since I work in my home, which is also my office, this is what I work in. It's comfortable, and comfort is something you need when you're working on a deadline."

"So that's why I can't get anything done here at school," a female voice called out. "These desks are sooooo uncomfortable."

The kids broke into laughter, while Sandy just buried her face behind her hand. Diana saw who had cracked the joke; the girl in the silver skirt, who just grinned at the empath with innocent brown eyes. What caught Di off guard was the familiar accent of someone raised in the Northeastern United States.

"I'd have to agree with you there," Di said agreeably. "Comfort is important. But even more important is motivation. That's something you *have* to have in this business. You can have all the talent in the world, but it doesn't help if you don't *want* to do the work."

One girl, whose blonde hair had to come from a bottle, raised a hand. When Di nodded for her to ask her question, the teen asked, "What about writer's block? How do you deal?"

"I don't deal," the witch answered, allowing some determination to bleed through into her voice. "There's no such thing as writer's block. I call it being lazy. If you say, 'I don't feel like working,' no one will feel sorry for you. But if you say, 'I'm blocked,' they'll feel sorry for you and try to help you feel better."

The girl then asked, with doubt evident in her voice, "You mean, you never have trouble with a book?"

"Oh, no. I'm not saying *that*," Di admitted with a shrug. The older woman folded her arms and said, "When I'm having trouble with a novel, I'll back off and consider the problem. If I can't figure out how to get back on track, I'll go to another project. I rarely have one book going at a time. Usually, at any one time, I'll have the book I'm writing, one book being revised and edited, and one or two I’m outlining. So I normally have something to work on, regardless."

A boy raised his hand. "Do you have a problem with editors changing your stories?"

"Not really, because that's what editors are for," she told him with a smile. "I won't say I've never wanted to pull my hair out at some of the things they want me to change, but you have to remember, this IS a business. My product is romance novels. My publisher expects a certain product, which I have to deliver. I'll use a comparison anyone can understand. Think of it like this; baseball players are paid to perform, but they still have the managers who tell them *how* to perform. My editor is basically my manager. He tells me what changes to make, and I do what he says." She gave the students a knowing grin. "Of course, I do what he wants in a way that *I* like."

The kids laughed. Di grinned; she had them hooked, and they had already been given an outline on serious writing, so they knew it wasn't all fun and games. But, she wanted to make sure these kids had as much fun as they could with this assignment. She looked around and asked, "Any other questions?"

"I have one," a redheaded student said with enthusiasm. "Do you ever collaborate with other writers?"

The writer had to smother a groan. <Three for three. That one ALWAYS comes up.> "No," she said adamantly. "I don't. Most people's idea of a 'collaboration' is coming up to me and saying, 'I've got this idea. I'll split the profits with you fifty/fifty if you write the book.' Think about this, kids; this guy meets me for five minutes and wants half the money for me doing four months of work. That includes writing, editing, rewriting and everything else involved with this business, which your teacher has given you information on. So, you know how much effort goes into this. So, five minutes against four months? Like you kids would say, 'Puh-leeze!'"

Now even Sandra was laughing. Di looked around and asked, "Anyone else?"

The girl with the New England accent raised her hand. "Someone told me that calling you a 'sex writer' makes it sound like you're doing porno stuff."

As one, every jaw in the room, with the exceptions of Di's and the girl's, dropped through the floor, the floor below it, and into the basement.

Di, to her credit, started laughing at the hilarious look on Sandra's face, since she knew the kid was just being a smart ass and having fun. Of course, she also knew that this girl's presence would make the three-week vacation somewhat interesting. With shaking shoulders, Di countered with, "Well, 'sex writer' is a lot more polite than some critics have been when describing my work. So I don't mind. But I don't do pornography."

"Darn. . ." the fashion plate said with a fake pout.

"All right, any *serious* questions?" the witch asked with a grin still tugging at her mouth.

The student who'd given the Guardian the stare down at the beginning of the class raised her hand. Di nodded, and the student asked, "Have you ever considered collaborating with other established authors? Or, perhaps, to cross over into other genres?"

Di cocked an eyebrow at the question, which was a new one on her, as was this girl's accent. <I didn't expect that one. And what is it with these accents?> "Occasionally, I will think about it. But like I said, I usually have three or four books at one stage of writing or another. So I don't have the freedom to co-author with other romance writers or authors who work in other genres." Letting a grin creep onto her face, Di asked, "What genres in particular were you thinking of?"

"My preferences run towards fantasy novels," the student replied with a tiny smile. "But I have read some of your works, primarily 'Blood and Roses' and 'Heart of the Wolf.' I was most impressed with your research skills on historical pieces. It would seem to me that combining your talents with a suitable fantasy author would make a most interesting read."

The novelist was impressed despite herself; this kid had done her homework. <Bad pun, Tregarde,> she thought to herself. <But is she just kissing my butt?> "Really? Did you have any particular authors in mind?"

The girl's smile widened. "My preferred authors include Piers Anthony, Harry Turtledove, Robert Salvatore, and Elaine Cunningham. But I have a particular fondness for two others. I believe that the styles of Mercedes Lackey and Cassandra Hastings would greatly complement yours."

"Well," Di admitted with a wry grin, "I don't know about Mercedes, since I don't do urban fantasies like she does. But I agree with you about Cassandra. I just haven't done elves before."

The girl in the skirt snickered and mumbled, "Well, now’s a good time to start," leading Di to wonder why. <What was so funny about that comment?> she asked herself. She brought her attention back to the student at hand.

"Perhaps a more. . . familiar topic might suit you," the girl said. The girl in the skirt had to cover her mouth to hold in her laughter. The girl who was speaking leaned forward, folded her arms on the desk, and her eyes became hard. "Perhaps vampires, werewolves. . . or *witches*."

Di picked up the way the woman stressed the last word. The empath couldn't make a comment before the junior narrowed her eyes in concentration. Suddenly, the two young women were lit up like Christmas trees of magical power. The student in the skirt had a type of magic she'd never felt before, but she'd seen the signs of magic and psi-talent in the foreign child.

<Great Jesus Cluny Frog!> the Guardian screamed in her mind. <They just revealed themselves! They KNOW!> With a neutral voice, she asked, "Oh, really? Any other topics?"

With a shrug, the girl said, "No, Ms. Tregarde. As I said, I think *Cassandra* would be a very good co-author."

Diana narrowed her eyes at the way she used Cassandra's first name. Before she could comment, the bell sounded. Before the students left, Sandy said, "Just a minute. Turn in your storylines to us. Let's have them."

As various students handed in the outlines for their groups, Di was grateful that Sandra didn't see her and two of her students staring each other down. The girl who'd put Di on notice had a look of utter neutrality, but her companion's look was that of a predator. Finally, the pair walked out of the classroom, keeping their eyes locked on Di's until they passed out of sight.

Di let out a long breath and turned to her friend, who was now sitting at her desk. She started, "Sandy. . ."

"So," Sandra grinned at her, "did they make a good impression on you?"

With wide eyes, Di asked, "Is this why you wanted me to come here?"

"What the heck are you talking about?" Sandra asked, now looking a bit puzzled.

Diana folded her arms. "Come on, Sandy," the empath ordered, "you may be as psi-sensitive as the average Big Mac, but you could always ferret people's secrets better than anyone else in the Spook Squad. Who the Hell *are* those two?"

"A couple of my prize pupils," the teacher said proudly. "Faith Pryce and Shaw Hunter. And they’re not even native to Sunnydale."

That caught Di off guard, and set off warning signals in her mind. "Say what? Where are they from? Give me all of it."

Sandy tapped a pencil against her lips, a habit that surfaced when she was trying to recollect something. She said, "Faith is from Boston. She moved here about three months ago. A sad case, too."

"Go ahead," Di ordered.

A look of sympathy crossed Sandy’s face. "Faith was a street kid. Not a prostitute, but a runaway. Her father took off on her mother, and her mother died of alcohol poisoning. She bounced from foster home to foster home until she ran away after the foster father tried to force himself on her. A woman named Linda Pryce took Faith in, right off of the streets. Faith even took Linda’s last name as her own, and they truly loved each other. Then, in January. . . they went to Atlanta."

A chilling sensation manifested itself inside of the witch. "No."

Sandy sighed in sadness. "Yes, during the whole ‘vampire’ cult episode. Faith and Linda stumbled into their clutches. The cult killed Linda, but the Violent Crimes Task Force arrived in time to save Faith. They eventually took down the cult, and a local woman was willing to take Faith in."

"Just like that?" Di asked.

"Joyce is a good woman, Di," the teacher assured her. "She owns an art gallery on Main Street. She has a daughter of her own, and took in another girl last year, before Faith arrived. Di, Faith’s truly blossomed here. She has a lot of rough edges, as her comments show, but that comes from her background. Think of her this way; she’s a good person, but with little regard for rules and regulations."

"One of the good guys, but not big on doing things by the book?" she asked rhetorically.

Sandra smiled. "Sounds familiar to me, too," she agreed. She idly looked through some of the outlines and said, "I just hope she never finds out the truth about what’s in this town. She’s been through enough without having to face that."

"Which brings up another point! This is supposed to be my *vacation*!" Diana groaned. "And now I’m stuck in rerun land!"

"What in God’s name are you talking about?" Sandy asked, thinking her friend was only joking.

"Sandy, your prize pupils have magic in them!" Di snapped. She braced her arms on the desk. "I’m telling you, Doc, those two girls are strong. This Faith has a magic I’ve never encountered before. And you missed the look she gave me; it was like she was just daring me to try something. And the one with the accent. . ."

"Shaw? What about her?"

"Sandy, she’s a priestess! Christ on a crutch, Livingston! I told you what happened in Dallas, and you know what happened in Jenks." Di moaned and lamented, "Now you’ve got me combining the two on a Hellmouth! Tell me everything you know about her."

"Shaw Hunter," Sandy began, not wanting to believe what she was hearing, "was an exchange student from Scotland. . ."

"I know a Scottish accent when I hear it, Sandy. That ain’t one."

The instructor sighed. "Two words; Army brat. Her father and grandfather were in the British military. Special Forces, no less. She has some training of her own; brown belts in karate, judo, and tae kwan do. She has family here in Sunnydale. . ."

"She just happens to have family here?" Di asked with a healthy dose of skepticism. "An exchange student?"

"Di, I know where you’re going with this," the teacher said softly. "INS came here in November and ran a DNA test. It confirmed the relationship, as well as discovering that her mother was part Apache. But her Sunnydale cousin is on her father’s side. Di, DNA doesn’t lie."

"Her magic isn’t American. I’ve dealt with Aztec magic, so I know the ‘signatures’ for Native American magic," Di firmly said. "But I also know Celtic and Irish magic, and she isn’t that either. And it isn’t Greek, Egyptian, or Norse Pantheons. It ‘feels’ like Nordic magic, but it’s a little different. Can you tell me anything else?"

"She lives with Ulric Johansen, the priest from my Church," Livingston offered. She smiled wanly. "We’ve talked about her many times, and he’s proud of her. Di, neither of them knows it, but their relationship really approaches one like that of a father/daughter."

"How often does she attend Mass?" Di asked suspiciously.

"Well. . ." Sandra’s face suddenly became worried. "Uh oh."

"Ye Gods!" Di moaned in despair.

"Do you want the rest?" Sandra asked with a sigh, to which Di nodded emphatically.

"Well, she’s multitalented. . ."

"No kidding," the Guardian sourly murmured. "Priestess, martial artist, empathic. . ."

"Diiiiii. . ." Sandra growled. Di nodded and made a "move on" gesture with her arm. "Good. First of all, she’s a Rennie; she and Amy, her cousin, go to SLO at least once a month to volunteer at a RenFaire that her relatives work at."

Di asked, "SLO?"

"San Luis Obispo," Sandra sighed. "Now stop interrupting, Spooky. Shaw is an expert with the sword and bow, and she plays an honest to God songhorn. She’s multilingual; she’s fluent in English, both Gaelic tongues, Latin, French, Spanish, and Arabic. I’ve also heard her speak German, Italian, and a little Navajo. Now, something that might be of interest; she had an allergic reaction last year."

"What happened?"

The teacher softly said, "She flatlined for five minutes after drinking some coffee. Hell of a way to discover you’re allergic to caffeine."

"Five minutes?!?" Di hissed in disbelief. "There’s no telling what kind of supernatural nasty might be inside of her! But I’ve never heard of anything that was allergic to caffeine."

"I’ve seen her Medic Alert bracelet," Sandy told her. She hesitated, and then added, "Di, I refuse to believe that those two are bad kids. Yes, Shaw got involved in a fight last year. . ."

"What happened?" Di demanded.

"A football player tried to harass her into dating him," Sandra responded with anger. "When she refused, he tried to cop a feel. Three judo moves later, she told Principal Snyder that she considered the matter closed, unless he made the mistake of pushing her again."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it," she confirmed. "I thought it was a mistake. I would’ve pressed charges on him. But she felt the matter was closed. And before you ask, there have been no problems between them since that I know of."

Diana considered the information, along with what the girl had said. Something clicked in her mind. "Sandy, that Hunter girl used Cassandra Hastings’ name."

"Yes, I heard. But she’s one of Shaw’s favorite authors."

Shaking her head, Di told her, "No, Sandy. She used her *first* name. As if she knows Cassie."

"Like you do?" Sandra asked, her interesting becoming piqued.

Di walked over to her purse and pulled out her cell phone. Sandy’s eyes rose as she dialed a number. Then she put her ear to the phone and waited.

"Hello?" an accented voice said in greeting.

"Cass? It’s Di," the witch said earnestly. "I have a possible situation, and your name came up."

"Oh?" Cassandra Hastings asked from her office in New York. "How so?"

Di gave Cassandra the quick version, explaining what she knew in short order. When she finished, Di asked, "What do you think?"

"Well," Cassandra said lightly, "I thought you’d learned your lesson about doing the lecture circuit."

"Ha, ha, ha," Di growled. "Can you tell me anything about her? Keep in mind, I’m on a Hellmouth here."

"Very well," the fantasy writer sighed dramatically. She began slowly, picking up speed as she went along. "The Hunter, or so the rumors call her, is a vampire hunter. The rumors say her family was killed by vampires. She and I encountered each other once before. She’s a priestess of some sort, has glowing eyes, and is a deadly swordswoman and archer. Also, the Hunter is honorable; double-dealing is not in her makeup. I don’t know how much that helps. Did she say anything else?"

One of the girl’s comments came back to Di. "Yeah, Cass. She said you and I should write a novel together."

Cassandra surprised her fellow writer by chuckling. "She never was subtle about her reading preferences."

"Wait a minute!" Di blurted out. "You can’t mean she was serious!"

Another chuckle came over the line. "I’ll have my agent talk with Morrie."

"Cass, what do I do here? Give me something, anything."

There was a long pause, then Cassandra said, "Luckily for you, there’s someone in Sunnydale who’s crossed swords with both the Hunter and the Pryce girl. I’ll call him and arrange a meeting for this afternoon. Hang up and I’ll call you back in twenty minutes. Are you on your cellular phone?"

"Yes!" Di gushed with relief. "Bless you, Cass! I owe you big time!"

"Remember that when I want sixty percent of the profits from our collaboration," Cassie joked. "But there’s something I have to ask you."

"Shoot," Di consented.

"This teacher," the Immortal witch asked, "what does she know?"

"Would you believe she grew up here?" the Guardian responded. "How do you think *I* found out about the Mouth of Hell? Gods, Cass, she’s about the only member of the Spook Squad who had no gifts to speak of, but she’s an ace on research and a Grade A snoop." She grinned at Sandra, who just shook her head and chuckled. "She knows a lot, Cassandra. Why are you asking?"

"If she knows about you, you no doubt told her about her two students," the woman in New York reasoned. "You’d best take her to the meeting. That way, she’s not on the sidelines where she could get hurt. Also, she knows more about those two girls than you do. She can provide more information."

Reluctantly, Di was forced to agree with the woman’s reasoning. "All right, Cass. Thanks."

"Don’t thank me until you find out the truth," Cassandra said with humor that Diana couldn't understand, given the situation. She hung up before Di could comment.

"Well?" Sandra asked cautiously.

Di smiled and said, "We’re in luck. Cass knows someone *here* in Sunnydale who’s faced your two pupils before. At least we have some help this time."

"What do you mean ‘we,’ paleface?" the Lit teacher asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Well, I need someone who knows these girls to talk to whomever I’m meeting. Also, you’re the research expert," Diana grinned at her friend. "I do the grunt work, you do the paperwork."

"I don’t suppose it would be worth mentioning that Shaw is a library assistant?" Sandra wryly offered. "She’s probably there right now."

Di stopped, looked at the Heavens, and moaned. "Why does this happen on MY vacation?"

Sandra was thankful No One answered.

*****

Part 2: Phone Tag
(Practical Jokes Through Phone Calls)

Computer Science Lab
Sunnydale High School
Sunnydale, California
1 April 1999

Faith and Shaw waited impatiently for the seniors in Jenny's final class of the day to file out of the computer lab. As the last students passed by pointedly ignoring those they considered beneath their notice, the Slayerette pair walked in.

Jenny was examining some papers, but looked up and smiled when she saw who'd come to visit her. The witch and priestess of Artemis said, "Hello, you two. What brings you here? I thought you'd be heading for the library."

Faith said, "Yeah, well, we might have a problem, Calendar Girl."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Jenny sighed. She chuckled dryly and asked, "Now, what is this potential problem? Does it have something to do with your literature assignment?"

"You could say that, Jenny," Shaw replied in a hard voice. That grabbed Jenny's attention as the ranger said, "Diana Tregarde possesses magic. Powerful magic."

"How powerful?" the Computer Science teacher asked with a tiny grin. "And what form of magic?"

"This ain't funny, J," Faith said, unable to comprehend why Jenny was smiling. "She's a witch in your class, maybe tougher."

"She is also a psionicist," Shaw added. Then, very carefully, she said, "She also possesses a form of magic that I have never seen before. Its power rivals any three spell casters on our team, excluding Robin."

"I see," Jenny murmured. She leaned forward in her chair, tapping her index fingers together. "Very good, you two. But allow me to put your concerns to rest. Diana Tregarde is known to the Romany. She happens to be a Guardian."

Faith's eyes blanked, but Shaw placed the title from her earlier research of Giles' Watcher Diaries. "Guardians have worked with Slayers in the past. It is one of the few instances where the Council allows the Slayer to have an ally."

Jenny frowned at Shaw's use of present tense. "Shaw, times change. Remember the meeting that Rupert and I had with the Council two months ago? We've made peace with the Council. In fact, the first Watchers are supposed to meet us in the library today."

"Great," Faith mumbled with a roll of her eyes. "I'm gonna become allergic to tweed."

"Faith," Jenny gently said, "I know that you have some issues with the Watchers. I agree that they're legitimate issues, but we want to put the past behind us and make this work. Can you do that?"

After a few moments of deliberation the Slayer said, "Okay, Jenny. I'll give the Limeys a shot. But you better hope at least one of them's really, really cute. If not, it's gonna be a long meeting."

Jenny smiled at Faith's unique priorities. "How about you, Shaw?"

"I could not care less whether they are 'cute' or not," the half-elf replied with a smile. "In fact, I would prefer that they be plain looking."

"Hey!" Faith snapped. She gave Shaw a backhanded slap on the arm and told her, "Don't ruin it for the rest of us!"

"It might be the only way to prevent another one of Amy and Cordelia's matchmaking debacles," Shaw said with a grin.

"Good point," the Slayer conceded. "Come on. Let's check out the fresh meat."

Faith walked out, leaving Jenny shaking her head at her antics. "This is going to be one of those meetings."

Shaw arched an eyebrow. "When is it not?"

*****

Sunnydale High Library
Sunnydale, California
1 April 1999

Jenny, Faith, and Shaw walked into the library, which reverberated with noise from multiple conversations. Willow grinned and waved to the trio. Faith smiled back at her, but that smile died when Giles walked out of the office with two young men, who were followed by two others, one of whom was well past his middle years.

One of the two younger men saw Faith, who saw recognition flash in his eyes. The newest Slayer clenched her fists and hissed, "You!"

The man, a young fellow with glasses, immaculately groomed hair, and a conservative three-piece suit, gulped in fear at the anger in her eyes.

Faith heard Buffy start to say, "Faith. . ."

None of the Slayerettes had time to stop the Dark Slayer before she rushed forward and tackled Wesley Wyndham-Price to the floor.

Buffy and some of the others reacted after the split second of shock, but it was still too slow for them to prevent Faith from sending a right cross into Wesley's jaw. The young Watcher's head snapped to his left with an audible "crack!"

As Buffy and Willow each grabbed one of Faith's arms and pulled her off of the moaning Wesley, she spat and howled, "You son of a bitch! You were supposed to help me, help Lynda! But no! Couldn't do that, could you? Just kill me when I was down and out, right?!?"

Giles strode up to her, anger clearly expressed in his eyes. "Faith! For God's sake, get a hold of yourself!"

The dark-haired woman recovered her self-control, if not control of her emotions. "That's HIM, Giles! The Weasel!"

"Faith. . ."

"Lemme spell it out for you, G-Man!" Faith screamed. "These are the guys who pulled me off the street and told me that stuff like honor and nobility existed. But they didn't think about telling me how they'd off me if I got a hangnail fighting vamps!"

"Faith," he began, sounding like a parent trying to calm a raving child, "that's why they're here, to change all that."

"But. . ." the Bostonian began, her rage still prevalent.

"And if we're going to repair the rift in our relationship," the librarian continued, "we cannot have you striking people, no matter your reasons or how you feel about them."

Faith sent a wicked glance in the direction of Wesley, who was being helped up by the two other young Watchers. The fourth, the older gentleman moved to Giles' side. She glanced back at Giles and shrugged. "Okay. I'll just kick him in the nuts. That won't leave any marks."

"Faith!" Giles snapped as some of the younger Slayerettes snickered. "I will NOT tolerate this behavior!"

"Why not, G-man?" she countered. She folded her arms and said, "In fact, you should take your shot, too. If I remember right, didn't these Limeys send a hit squad to rub you and Buffy out?"

"Miss Pryce," the older Watcher said, "that was the work of a rogue individual operating without the consent of the Watchers. And the elements that supported him have been dealt with. Permanently. You cannot blame their behavior on Wesley and the younger generation."

"Wanna bet?" Faith snarled. "Wesley the Weasel was the asshole who lied to me! Lied to me about Buffy and Kendra being alive, lied to me about Giles, lied to me about everything!"

"That's in the past, Faith," Jenny cooed.

"What, two months? Three, tops?" the New Englander noted sarcastically. "Of all the Tweed Wonders to send, they send HIM! No *way* am I working with him!"

Buffy came around and gripped Faith's shoulder. "Faith, look. I'll agree with you, these guys haven't had 'let the Slayers be happy' near the top of their list of priorities. And we've had worse dealings with them than you have. We almost lost Willow, Xander, and Cordy when Quenton pulled that stunt last summer. I know how you feel."

"No, B, you don't," Faith said. She turned around and locked her gaze onto the senior Slayer's. "Our getting Chosen was *way* different."

Buffy sighed and said, "Look, I know you're pissed. But we're supposed to work this stuff out. Can you give him one chance? For us?"

Faith started to snap out a negative answer, but the elder gentleman said, "Miss Pryce, I understand your anger. I once felt the same way."

Faith turned to him and barked, "And who are you?"

Giles softly, yet firmly, said, "Faith, this is my father. Edwin Giles."

"Oh," she muttered. She considered the man for a few moments. "So, how do you know how I feel?"

"I said that I once shared your anger, Ms. Pryce," he replied solemnly. He glanced at his son and said, "I was the Field Watcher for a Slayer over twenty years ago. I held a lot of anger over how the Slayers were treated and I resolved never to let that happen to any Slayer I had in my care. And I was certainly slow to let that anger fade. But now, the time has come to make a change for the better, and I would like us to attempt to make a fresh start here. Hopefully, the rift between our two groups can be closed. I'd hope that someone my son has spoken highly of in his reports would be willing to give it a chance as well."

Faith was caught by surprise by that. She looked at Giles with a quirky grin and said, "With all the grief I give you, you say good things about me?"

Giles smiled at his junior Slayer. "Despite your more-than-occasional complaints about your training regimen, at least the parts that don't involve punching, kicking or inflicting mayhem on something, you are a diligent student. There is also the fact that I've worked with American teenagers for three years now, which provides me the fortitude to deal with distracted students."

"Hey!" the teen-aged Slayerettes shouted.

Faith looked between Giles and Edwin several times. The way Edwin talked had struck a chord in her, and while she regretted acting hastily, she wasn't ashamed. <Weasel had it coming.> She sighed and said, "Okay, G-Senior. I'll give him *one* shot."

"Thank you," he said, happy that a proverbial bullet had been dodged. He looked at Wesley holding his jaw, then turned to his son. "Son, I don't suppose you have someone capable of soothing a sore jaw?"

"As it so happens, we do," Giles replied with a sigh. He said, "Shaw, would you do the honors?"

Faith saw Shaw glance at her, seeming hesitant. After a few seconds, the healer went over and cast a spell to repair the damage that Faith's blow had done.

Wesley worked his jawbone back and forth, testing it. He looked at Shaw and said, "Thank you."

Faith saw his eyes go from gratitude to nervousness. Seeing only Shaw's back, she couldn't determine what had passed between the two. Apparently, she wasn't the only one to pick it up.

"Is something wrong, Shaw?" Giles asked.

She didn't answer, but instead turned around and walked toward the side of the library, shaking her head once. Faith looked at Buffy for insight to the silent exchange, but the Immortal only shrugged in confusion.

Her attention was jarred by Giles asking her, "Faith, don't you have something to say to Mr. Wyndham-Pryce?"

Faith cringed. She looked at the two teachers, and both Giles and Jenny sternly nodded, despite the understanding she could see emanating from their eyes. The Slayer looked at her former adversary and said, "Sorry, Weasel. Won't happen again."

"Faith!" Jenny snapped in disapproval.

"Oh come on!" she moaned. "What do you want from me? Am I supposed to say 'I'm sorry you screwed me over and lied to me and now let's make nice?' Hey, I have my pride, you know. Why'd they send him of all people anyway?!? The High Tweed Poobahs had to know what I'd do to him."

"Actually, Faith," Wesley humbly said, "I volunteered to come. I hoped we might get off on a better foot this time around. . ."

"Really?" she said with a snap. "Why don't I put MY foot up your. . ."

"Faith, give him a chance, please?" Willow piped in from the side.

Faith glared at her other best friend. "Et tu, Red?"

"Well, if he volunteered to come here and knew you were here," Willow explained softly, "he probably knew how you'd feel. And he knows your capabilities, so he knows you could hurt him. Faith, if he's willing to risk getting beaten up to make things right between you two, maybe you could give him a chance to do it, huh? He sounds like he's trying to apologize for lying to you."

"It's not just that, W," Pryce said to clarify her emotions. "He was why Linda bailed when I got hurt. She didn't want Mr. My-Voice-Is-So-British-I-Could-Do-Books-On-Tape here to put a pillow over my head while I slept or something."

Wesley actually looked mortified. "Faith, I would have done no such thing!"

"Oh," Faith said. With a shrug, she guessed, "Lethal injection? Stake?"

"I wouldn't have done anything!" he protested. "I swear, with God as my witness, I would never have tried to kill you!"

"Oh, you wouldn't have pulled a 'Zabuto?'" Faith grunted. She looked over at Kendra, who winced at the mention of her former Watcher's attempt to activate the next Slayer, not knowing it had already happened. "Sorry, but no cigar. You're Mister By The Book. The Cookie Cutter Watcher. You'd fall in line so fast your shadow'd take six months just to catch up."

"Faith," Giles said in an ominous tone, "you are stepping over the line."

Despite the uncomfortable silence from the rest of the team, Faith pressed forward. "How about we do a lie detector test? See if he's telling the truth?"

"We don't exactly have a polygraph available," Jenny pointed out.

"Yeah, we do," Faith said. She thrust a finger at Willow and said, "She can do that 'lie/pain spell.' That'd settle things real quick."

"Are you seriously suggesting. ." Giles began, but Wesley cut him off.

"I'll do it."

Everyone stared at the surprisingly determined young man. He softly said, "If this is the proof you require, Faith, I will gladly submit myself to it."

"If I may," Edwin asked, "what does this spell do?"

Willow became the center of attention. She slowly stood up and said, "Well, G-Sen-er. . . uh, Mr. Giles, it's pretty simple. I cast the spell on someone, and if he lies, he feels a sharp pain in his stomach, he gets a headache, and his entire body feels like it's on fire."

"Like when you eat six bowls of chili with too many red peppers," Xander offered.

"Wesley," Edwin said to the younger man, "are you certain of this?"

"Lord Giles," Wesley said, straightening himself up to his full height, "I had already considered many things after Mr. Travers made his misguided attempt on your son and his Slayer. If this will convince them that I believe in what you are attempting to do here, then I see no other choice." He turned to Willow and graciously nodded. "Please, Miss. Do what you must."

Willow looked at Giles and Jenny. The teachers looked uncertain, but gave the silent go-ahead. The Wiccan began casting, speaking in Celtic. After a few seconds, she nodded.

"Okay, let's get this over quick," Faith said. Fully expecting Wesley to imminently be collapsing to the floor, she said, "Would you wax me if I got hurt in a fight?"

Wesley looked her straight in the eyes and said, "No."

Faith waited for several seconds before she and several others realized he'd told the truth. She looked around in bewilderment, seeing similar looks on the faces of Buffy, Xander, and Cordelia. Larry just looked around to gauge their reactions, since he had no prior experience with the Council. Amy and Shaw were looking at each other, silently communicating something.

Faith looked at her Watcher, who just cocked an eyebrow and waited, putting the proverbial ball in her court.

The Slayer paced back and forth a bit before blurting out, "Would killing me depend on what kind of boo-boo I had? Say, a broken leg, concussion or something like that?"

"No!" Wesley babbled in mortification. He collected himself and said, "Miss Pryce, I would not have done anything like that to you, just to activate the next Slayer."

"Oh," she said, nodding as a smile came to her face. There was little mirth in it. "Then you would have asked the big boys back in London first? To see what they said to do?"

"Yes, I would have," the Watcher answered. He seemed very nervous, as if he thought Faith was trying to force him into a lie that would make the spell affect him.

Faith looked at Giles and said, "And if they said, ‘Kill her?’ Then you’d rub me out so they could have a healthy Slayer?"

Wesley hesitated a bit before answering. Still, he was unaffected when he replied, "No, I wouldn’t have. I would have disobeyed their orders."

The Watchers, especially Jonathan Pierce, all wore looks of surprise. Edwin shared a look with his son, his eyes showing pride in the young man’s courage in admitting something that could theoretically get him into trouble with his superiors.

Faith looked stunned at his proclamation. She took another tack by saying, "Then why were you always pissing your pants around me? You were scared shitless of me! I mean, after the way B and Alfred treated you last year. . ."

Wesley actually chuckled. "Yes, Miss Pryce, I was afraid of you," he dryly confessed, "but it wasn’t just because you are a Slayer. It’s, well. . ." He stared into her eyes and admitted, "Quite frankly, Miss Pryce, you’re a Colonial. Dealing with Colonials, even Linda, usually makes me nervous. Especially short-tempered ones."

"I’m a what?" the Slayer asked with dangerously narrowed eyes. "Colonel?"

"A Colonial," Giles chuckled. When he drew a look identical to the one she’d sent Wesley, he translated. "Faith, that’s a British term for ‘American.’"

The kids began snickering at Faith’s reaction to a simple answer. She tried for several seconds to come up with another question, but nothing relevant came to mind.

<He wouldn’t have killed me,> she finally admitted to herself. <He even would’ve let himself get in trouble with his bosses. . .>

Faith swallowed and looked at Wesley, who just waited with a look of sorrow on his face. She finally broke down and said, "Okay, Wes. I believe you. Sorry about the jaw."

"No harm done," he agreed. Off her look, he added, "At least not permanently."

"Right."

Edwin smiled and said, "Now that we've relieved the tension a bit, perhaps we can move on." He looked at Jenny and said, "Jenny, you look as lovely as the last time we met. It is good to see you again."

"Thank you, Edwin," Jenny replied with a smile filled with emotion. "I'm glad that you could join us."

"Like young Wesley, I volunteered to come," the old man said with a roguish grin. "I might be a bit old to be practicing hand-to-hand fighting techniques with teenaged Amazons or Slayers, but I do hope to learn what I can of your training methods. If I may ask though, where is this Mr. St. Wolf I've heard so many good things about?"

"Dad, Steve is presently at work," Giles announced. "He will meet us at his house after he is done for the day."

"Excellent. I look forward to making his acquaintance," Edwin said pleasantly.

"I'm sure you will, Dad," Giles said with a smile. "Now that we've settled things down a bit, perhaps we can make the final introductions." He looked to his father and the other Watchers. "Dad, I gave you and the others the basic list, and I've introduced you to the early arrivals. Now that the rest are here. . ." He extended an arm to each individual in turn to introduce the last four. "Most of you know my fiancée, Jenny Calendar, who is an Amazon witch as well as a recently ordained priestess of Artemis. You also know Faith Pryce, the newest Slayer. The young woman next to Faith is Shaw Hunter, a priestess of Mielikki, a forest Goddess of Finland. Shaw is half-elven. Jenny, Faith, Shaw, these. . ." Giles turned to the Watchers and indicated them in turn. "As you have no doubt guessed, the elder gentleman is my father, Edwin Giles. We met Wesley Wyndham-Price and Owen Marshall last year. The other gentleman is Jonathan Pierce. Mr. Pierce is a member of the Council's Special Operations Force. He'll observe our combat training, as well as participate in our training sessions."

As the four Watchers nodded greetings, Faith watched them with a less than friendly look. Shaw and Larry, having had no prior experience with the Council, both wore more open expressions. Larry, in fact, smiled in greeting.

<Well, this was better than I expected,> Giles thought wearily. "We'll be leaving in about fifteen minutes. Please, feel free to talk and get to know each other."

Faith glanced at the Watchers, uncertain about talking to any of them. Before she could decide on a course of action, Willow came up and asked, "Are you all right, Faith?"

She looked at the witch and muttered, "I dunno, Red. I mean, he actually would've broke ranks with his bosses. Kinda creepy to believe, you know?"

"Hey, don't worry," Willow said reassuringly, "just keep something in mind; they were scared about what that Travers guy did, too. So maybe they're not all bad."

"It's just. . ." Faith started, but didn't get her comment out before Buffy and Kendra walked over. "B. K."

"Faith," Buffy said quietly. She glanced at Willow and said, "Will, could we get a few minutes?"

"Slayer only stuff?" the Amazon said with a quizzical expression.

"Sort of, yeah," Buffy admitted.

Willow glanced at Faith. She said, "Okay. But think about it from her point of view, all right, Buffy? Don't go Drill Sergeant on her."

A small smile crept onto Buffy's face as she said, "Actually, I'm not too keen on trusting these guys either."

Willow let one corner of her mouth rise. "Buffy, *I* was the one who got shot, remember? But it was Travers, not the Watchers that are here."

"I know that, Will," Buffy admitted. "But it's one thing to know it, and another to feel it." She glanced at Giles and his father. "At least Giles' dad is on our side."

"He seems to be an upstanding man," Kendra remarked.

Faith snickered, "'Course he is, K. He's English."

Kendra favored Faith with a stony glance. "Faith, I know you don't like the Council, because you think they lied to you, but. . ."

"K, K, K!" the Boston native said waving her arms. "I get it! I overreacted, okay! I was pissed to see the We---" She stopped at Buffy's frown and rolled her eyes. "Okay, I wasn't *thrilled* to see *Wesley* here. We have a history, and it ain't a good one. So I jumped the gun."

Buffy sighed and muttered, "That's the understatement of the year."

"Well, keep in mind what he pulled," Faith riposted. "Linda dragged me out of Boston for a reason, remember?"

"We understand that, Faith," the senior Chosen One promised. She considered what to say, and then said, "Look, we all have our issues with the Council, okay? Compared to you and the Weasel--- great! Now you've got *me* saying it!"

Faith snickered, but Buffy cut her off. "It's not funny, Faith!" she snapped. "Compared to Quenton, Wesley's a goody two shoes. We almost lost Willow, Xander, and Cordy last summer. And on top of that was the head of the Council calling the Order of Taraka to kill me and Giles."

"Then why are you defending them?" Faith asked.

Buffy sighed and said, "Look, I'm not thrilled about this either. I took it up with Giles AND Steve, and they both agree that we can't go on like we've been doing. Giles put his butt on the line in England for us. So we could at least give it a shot."

"You're doing this for Giles?" Kendra asked uncertainly. "As opposed to doing it out of a spirit of cooperation?"

Buffy hesitated for a split second. "I won't lie to you two," she admitted, her face turning pink, "Giles loves us like daughters. You know that. He made an effort for us, and I'm paying him back. But I'm still not too thrilled about it. I told both Giles and Steve, if they step out of line one inch, I'm whipping their asses."

"Way to go, B!" Faith said with a big grin.

Kendra frowned at the youngest Slayer. While Kendra and Faith considered themselves friends, it was more out of a mutual respect for each other than from similar personalities. She said, "Faith, do you want this to fail?"

Faith rolled her eyes. "No, K," she told the Jamaican irritably. "Heck, I wish they weren't here, period. But I can take orders if I have to. It's not like we’ve got a choice here." She eyed Kendra and asked, "Tell me something. Why do you *like* them so much, K? After your Watcher tried to *kill* you?"

Kendra looked unsettled; it hadn't been easy for her to learn that her own Watcher had tried to kill her to activate the next Slayer after she'd nearly sacrificed herself in Los Angeles. She had gone through a month of major denial, not wanting to admit it to herself. She had gotten over it, combining a feeling of betrayal on his part with the knowledge that it was the Council way. The fact that others thought it was wrong had taken nearly as long to register with the West Indian woman, who finally had come to accept what the others believed; that she was special in her own right, and that no one had the right to kill her simply because of serious injuries that she would eventually recover from.

She finally said, "Faith, Mr. Zabuto raised me. My parents gave me up to the Council early in my life, because my people take the role of the Slayer very seriously. Since meeting my parents and talking with them, I appreciate their devotion even more. I don't blame them for giving me up, nor do I blame Mr. Zabuto for following his beliefs. I understand now that they were wrong, but I still have to respect him for adhering to them. He cared for me in his own way, he simply made a mistake."

"A mistake, she says," Faith mumbled. She shook her head and said, "K, trying to kill you isn't a 'mistake.' It's called attempted murder."

"I know how you feel about this, and I can accept it," Kendra countered. She prevented a counterargument by saying, "I am not happy that he was so willing to give up on me, but I do know, by Buffy's own words, that he regretted what he felt he had to do. Thus, I know that he is not cold or cruel, Faith. He was simply misguided. Thus, I can forgive him, because I know him as well as he knows me."

Faith considered what Kendra had said. Kendra tended to be the "by the Handbook" Slayer, raised in the traditions of the Council, who usually had the vast majority of the potential Slayers under their tutelage at an early age. She saw perhaps *that* was the reason they were so different; Buffy and Faith hadn't had the education that their fellow Slayer had received.

"Well, maybe that's part of the problem, Kendra," the Boston native muttered, surprising both Kendra and Buffy with the use of her full name. "See, you two had it different from me."

"How's that, Faith?" Buffy asked curiously. "And what does that have to do with the way you treated Wesley?"

With a roll of her eyes, Faith put one hand on her hip and pointed at Buffy. "Okay, B, refresh my memory; you had a life before getting Chosen, right?"

"Yeah, and it got turned upside down," the Immortal said with a wry grin. "And sometimes I still wonder if it was worth it."

"But you had friends who helped you through it, B. You were able to deal," Faith added with a frown. "You took that curve the Big Guy threw you and turned it into a five hundred footer over the Green Monster. You still have a life of your own."

"Well, yeah. . ." Buffy said uncertainly. "If you call living on the Mouth of Hell a life."

"Now, K," the dark-haired teen announced, switching her attention to the Jamaican, "you knew from the get-go what you were in for, right? Sammy Z raised you, taught you, and told you everything that you were going to do. You're into the whole duty thing; being the Slayer was always your life, and it still is. Right?"

"Well, yes," Kendra admitted.

Faith nodded triumphantly. "Well, I wasn't that lucky. I'm a street kid; never knew my Dad, Mom cared more about her booze than me. When she bought it, I got bounced from foster home to foster home. Usually, the foster folks wanted the money more than me. Except the last home I was in, and all that guy wanted was to get into my pants more often than his own. That's when ol' Alika girl possessed my ever-lovin' butt and turned me into Supergirl."

"Faith," Buffy pleaded, "the point?"

"I'm gettin' to that, B," Faith promised. She collected herself and said, "Linda found me and took me in. She treated me a lot better than my real Mom ever did. You see, guys, that's the diff. Buffy, you had a life before getting Chosen, but you kept it. Kendra, being the vampire boogeyman IS your life. Me, getting the Slayer gig *gave* me a life. That's why being the Slayer makes me happy; it made me somebody. I made a difference, and I *knew* it. And what happens? I find out that the guys who took me off the streets were willing to knock me off quicker than the vamps!"

Faith cast a wicked glare at the Watchers, Wesley in particular. They didn't notice, being caught up in their own conversations.

Turning back to her fellow Slayers, Faith said, "Tell me, B. Did Giles ever tell you what their formula was? Did they have a time limit for injuries? Lessee; you get a week to recover from a hangnail or they kill you. You get two weeks to recover from a separated shoulder or they kill you. You get an hour to recover from a migraine or they kill you. . ."

"Faith, we get the point," Buffy told her. She placed her hands on Faith's shoulders and said, "We understand. Being the Slayer gave you a reason to be proud of yourself."

"And if I get a poor wittle boo-boo," Faith growled, "it's. . ."

She made a ripping sound and slid her right index finger across her throat. She whispered, "I don't like the idea that I'm supposed to be the big, bad champion of humanity whose odds of getting killed by her supposed teachers is just as good as getting waxed by the bad guys."

"We're going to change that," Kendra said putting her own hand on Faith's shoulder. "That's why the Watchers are here, to learn how to do things differently. And there is one thing of which I am jealous of you, Faith. You had two Watchers who truly loved you, Ms. Pryce and Lord Giles. I was not that fortunate until I moved here."

Faith was taken aback by Kendra’s admission; she'd always been envious of the West Indian Slayer’s upbringing, however sheltered it happened to have been.

<Maybe it was because she *was* sheltered,> Faith thought to herself. <She didn't know how bad the "real" world was, even without the monsters. I had to deal with monsters that were human.>

She glanced at Wesley once again; surprisingly, he seemed to be getting along well with Oz and Willow.

<Willow gets along with everybody, and Fangface is. . . well, Fangface,> she thought. Shaking the negative emotions off, she said, "So what am I supposed to do? Just kiss and make up?"

"I didn't say that," Buffy said with a grin, "but at least try to give them the benefit of the doubt. It couldn't hurt, huh?"

The Slayer looked at her partners in destiny and said, "As long as you're there to keep them in line, okay?"

"Them?" Buffy and Kendra both quipped with knowing smiles.

As Giles discussed training agendas with Edwin and Jonathan Pierce, he spied Jenny leading Shaw over to them.

Seeing the look on both their faces, Giles asked, "Jenny, is something wrong?"

"I don’t think so," his fiancée said sweetly, "but it turns out that Sandra Livingston’s friend, Diana Tregarde, is a Guardian in addition to being a romance writer."

Both Giles men instantly became serious. Edwin took the initiative to ask, "Do you know why a Guardian has come to the Hellmouth?"

<He says Hellmouth before Sunnydale,> Giles thought wryly. He looked at Jenny, who said, "I only know her by reputation, Rupert. She’s helped the Romany on occasion. Shaw and Faith were the ones who detected her magic."

When the men looked at Shaw, she glanced at Giles. He nodded that it was permissible to speak freely in front of his father. She shrugged and said, "She is helping Mrs. Livingston with our assignment in Comparative Literature. Supposedly, this is what she considers a vacation from signing autographs at shopping malls and conventions."

"At least she’s not here because of something darker," Edwin said, reflecting the thoughts of his son and future daughter-in-law. "I supposed we could ask Mr. St. Wolf what, if anything, we might do about the situation. What do you think, son?"

"Yes, I’m quite in agreement with you," the Mage muttered thoughtfully. He adjusted his glasses and said, "I’ll call Steve before we head for his residence." His eyes brightened as he remembered something and looked at Shaw, who was listening to their comments on Tregarde. "Oh, yes. Shaw, yesterday I received a call from Ibrihim Al Martouph. He asked me to pass on a word of thanks for your speedy transcription of the Diary." His eyes became slightly puzzled. "But he did add something about one language being enough?"

He was unsettled by the mischievous grin that came to her face. "Mr. Al Martouph lives in Damascus, Giles," she reminded him. "I sent him transcripts in English, Latin, and Arabic. This way, he can lend out the files as other Watchers need them."

"Files?"

"I was surprised as well," the half-elf said with a smirk. She cocked her head and said, "A member of the Council who is literate with computers. Will wonders never cease?"

Giles frowned at Jenny, who was covering her giggles with a hand. "If you say so much as a word, I will ask Steve to have you face three opponents at once at the training session."

"Far be it from me to condemn a Watcher for being computer literate," the Gypsy said, her eyes smiling even more than her lips.

"Excuse me," Pierce said respectfully, "but may I ask you a question, Mr. Giles?"

"Of course, Jonathan," Giles said with a friendly smile. "That’s why we’re here."

"Thank you," he said. The Special Ops member glanced at Shaw before asking the librarian, "I was wondering how you could allow a. . . civilian to read the Diaries in your possession? Such a thing is frowned upon by the Council, Mr. Giles. Surely you know that."

"Mr. Pierce," Giles said slowly, "the Diaries are an invaluable tool of research for our team. However, there are rare occasions when I am out of town, and sometimes the person who remains here will need to research subjects that are only available in the Diaries. Also, I can assure you that I don’t allow just anyone to read the Diaries."

"But you allowed this young woman to transcript a full Dairy?" Edwin asked.

Giles was surprised by his father’s question, but decided to field it, since he considered it a possible powder keg.

Shaw spoke up at that point. "Sirs, if I may speak on Giles’ behalf?" Upon Edwin’s gracious nod, she smiled tightly and said, "Thank you. In the case of Mr. Al Martouph, he asked Giles for a transcript of a particular Diary, but on a computer file for his own records. As I am more skilled with computers than Giles, as well as fluent and literate in several languages, including Mr. Al Martouph’s native Arabic, I was willing to handle the task for him. The specific Diary he asked for a transcript of is also of particular interest to me."

Jonathan’s eyes rose in curiosity. "And why is that, Miss Hunter?"

Giles watched as Shaw hesitated; he knew that she and Amy had talked beforehand about certain information that they wanted to keep secret from the Watchers. But now, it seemed she’d unknowingly opened the door for that information to come out.

Giles said, "Shaw, is something wrong?"

She glanced at him and said, "It involves issues that Amy and I previously discussed." She sighed in resignation and looked back at Pierce. "Mr. Pierce, the Diary in question was penned by Margaret Madison, Watcher of Maria Delgado. Do you know the name?"

"I should say so," Edwin replied instead. "She was one of the finest Watchers of her time."

"She was also a witch," Shaw added. Giles frowned a bit at where she might be going with this, but she either didn’t see or ignored the warning look. "A witch whose descendants moved to America, to a small town called New Salem."

Giles could see that Jonathan and Edwin saw her point, as well as the irony; the Council had been waging an unofficial hunt for the reputed haven for witches and warlocks for nearly a century, which began when the New Salemites prevented a Slayer born into their community from being taken by the Council. The Council, ten years after that Slayer’s activation, had contracted the Order of Teraka to kill her in order to bring forth a Slayer already under their control. That Slayer’s hometown had apparently become home to the descendants of one of their own.

Edwin said, "Miss Hunter, that was a horrible crime performed by whomever was the head of the Council at the time. I assure you, we have taken measures to ensure that it will never happen again."

"I truly hope so," the young woman said with a neutral voice. "You see, Lord Giles, Margaret Madison was my and Amy’s six-times-great Grandmother. It was less than pleasing for us to learn that the same Council, which prides itself on its traditions, would applaud her maternal feelings for Maria, yet only two centuries later would condemn a Watcher who had those same emotions for Buffy and be intent on exterminating our ancestral hometown."

Giles and Jenny both moved to rein in Shaw’s points. "Shaw," Giles said warningly, "we are here to foster cooperation, not to bring up old arguments."

Shaw nodded but said, "I have said what I have to say on the subject, Giles. As for Mr. Pierce’s original question, I simply want him to know that I was merely helping you and your fellow Council member."

<Bloody way to make a point, however,> Giles thought dryly. He glanced at Jonathan and asked, "Jonathan, besides her bringing up a sore subject, which I apologize for, was her answer satisfactory?"

Jonathan seemed surprised by the question. He recovered and said, "Of course, Mr. Giles. I am sorry if I seemed ‘traditional.’ It was merely a surprise that you allow others to read the Diaries. But I see your point about your being out of town, and I should have considered that. My apologies as well, and I take no offense to Miss Hunter’s opinions. She has a right to express them."

"Very well," Giles said with a silent sigh of relief. "Dad, do you have anything you wish to add to this?"

"No, other than that it is quite refreshing to see someone from the younger generation who is polite and respectful, yet willing to speak her mind," Edwin said with a grin directed at Shaw.

"Polite?" Shaw asked nonchalantly. "Who would that be?"

"Shaw!" Giles blurted out in exasperation.

Shaw glanced at him through the corner of her right eye, then focused back on Edwin. She told him, "Sometimes it is so easy to get a reaction out of him, I wonder why I go through the effort."

Edwin, Jenny, and Shaw started to laugh as Giles realized she’d gotten him. Jonathan raised an eyebrow, and his lip twitched, but that was the limit of his reaction.

Edwin chuckled at his son. "I thought you had enough problems dealing with American students, Rupert. Now you have exchange students getting your goat." He smiled at the grinning Shaw and asked, "May I ask where you hail from, Miss Hunter?"

She hesitated again, so Giles wasn’t surprised when she gave the "official" storyline to him. "I was born in rural Scotland, Lord Giles," she responded with a shrug, "but my father and grandfather were SAS, thus I traveled much in my younger days. It accounts for some of my ability to pick up languages."

"I see," Edwin said. He noticed Giles’ cross look and asked, "Son, is something bothering you?"

"Yes," he said tersely. He told Shaw, "I cannot believe you are going to stoop to such levels, Shaw."

"I beg your pardon?" she asked with tangible confusion.

Giles sighed and began, "I expected such antics from Xander, Cordelia or Robin, but I thought you were above using the circumstances of my birth for jokes."

Edwin looked at Jenny quizzically, and she just smiled and shook her head.

"Giles," Shaw said understandingly, "your father is the Earl of Leicester, is he not?" Giles nodded, so she continued. "Yes. Well, being someone who was born and raised in a land where things such as nobility and royalty are respected, I was only showing your father the respect he is due." She paused, and then added, "Unless you wish for me to call him ‘Sir G-Man.’"

Giles moaned and brought his hand to his forehead in frustration, while Jenny started laughing anew. He glared at his lover and asked, "Could you please stop enjoying yourself so much?"

"You walked into that one, Rupert," the Amazon priestess teased him. Looking at Edwin, she explained how Xander and Cordelia had come up with new nicknames for her betrothed once she’d told them how he was a member of the House of Lords. Much to her joy (and Giles’ chagrin), Edwin joined in the laughter.

He glanced at Giles and chuckled, "I’m impressed, son. They say that the younger generation has no respect for their elders. You’ve proven that to be false."

"I shall never live this down, will I?" he asked Jenny, who shook her head merrily.

She walked up and stroked his hair. "Not if I have anything to say about, lover."

"Perhaps we should leave now," he said, suppressing a surge of desire. "I’ll meet you outside after I place a call to Steve."

Jenny and Edwin nodded and moved to pass the word to the others.

As the Slayerettes and Watchers filed out of the library, Xander moved over to Shaw.

"Good work, Hunter," he said, nudging her in the ribs. "Ribbing Giles like that."

Shaw arched an eyebrow. "I was being serious, Xander," she informed him. She glanced over her shoulder at Edwin and said, "He is a Lord, thus I respect his rank. However, if he wishes to be referred to by his given name, I shall do so. It is his choice."

"I hope so. That way we don’t have to call everyone who’s a blue blood ‘Lord’ or ‘Lady,’" he whispered.

Cordelia, hanging on Xander’s arm, smacked him on the chest. "Cut it out, Dweeb Boy," she ordered him. "We’ve been over that. Shaw’s not nobility."

"Yes, she is," Xander said confidently, "and I can prove it."

"Of course you can," the half-elf said with a smirk. She glanced to her left to see Willow and Faith discussing what the Slayer had talked about with Buffy and Kendra.

Xander waited until she started to gravitate towards them before uttering a single word, loud enough for the Slayerettes to hear. "Moonblade."

Shaw stopped dead in her tracks, as did Faith and Willow. Xander let a diabolical grin creep onto his face as he imagined Shaw giving the "look of death" to two of her best friends.

Faith wasn’t intimidated. She rolled her eyes and drawled, "Like I’d give *him* joke ammo."

At the opposite end of the spectrum was Willow, who protested her innocence by saying, "I-I-I-I didn’t tell him!"

Cordelia confusedly asked, "What’s going on?" Her question echoed the thoughts of the other kids.

Shaw slowly turned toward Xander and, in a raspy growl that would have done Jack Palance proud, asked him, "How?"

"Remember those books you gave me for Christmas?" the young warrior asked with a cocky grin. "The ones on elven history?"

<Meaning the Forgotten Realms products,> Shaw wearily concluded. "Yes. What about them?"

"Well, one of them had a list of noble elven families," he explained. His smile became triumphant as he told her, "I’ll give you three guesses what name I found in there."

By now, the ranger was looking sick. "The Redstars," she sighed.

"Yep." He looked around, enjoying Shaw’s disgust and the surprised looks on the faces of the other teens for a few seconds before saying, "So, Lady Shaw, you have anything to say to us mere commoners?"

Shaw glared at him with a look that would have caused those who didn’t know her to shrink back in fear. "Nothing other than, you are so dead, if you EVER breathe a word of this to anyone outside of our immediate team."

"Why didn’t you tell us this?" Amy demanded with a grin. The witch was always ready to have some fun at her cousin’s expense, particularly after the dismal failures of her and Cordelia’s matchmaking attempts. "Spill it, cuz. Why’d you keep this under wraps?"

The half-elven fighter admitted, "Mainly, to keep Xander and Cordelia from making jokes about it. Look at their treatment of Giles."

"HEY!" Xander and Cordelia protested.

"Secondly," she acidly continued, "I have always been a woman of simple tastes. You have known this from the time you first crossed paths with me. Third, there is the fact that *I* did not know of this until Lord Parkin told me in January. Which means that Xander knew of my ancestry before I did, and did not think it necessary to tell me of my background. And Xander knows how much family history means to me."

Xander felt his stomach flip-flop as he realized that Shaw had once again switched his advantage around on him. This time, Cordelia wasn’t caught with him.

This time, the Amazon demanded, "You knew about Shaw’s elf family and didn’t tell her? I don’t believe you!"

"But, Cordy. . ."

He didn’t get any more words out before she turned on her high heels and said, "You’re on the couch this weekend, buster!"

She strode out of the library, Xander hot on her heels and begging her to let him explain.

Robin walked up to Shaw and said, "You realize he’s going to try to get back at you if he ‘don’t get no satisfaction’ this weekend."

"C’est la vie," she said with a shrug.

Giles walked into the library and dialed the number for Lawrence Antiques. When the busy signal buzzed in his ear, he shrugged it off as Robert or Carol talking to a customer. He dialed Steve’s cell phone number, but it too was busy.

"That’s odd," he said as he looked at the phone. "Usually you can get through on this phone. Oh, well. I can just call him from his residence."

Giles replaced the receiver and left the office, turning the lights off as he went.

*****

Lawrence Antiques
Sunnydale, California
1 April 1999

"Cassandra?" Steve St. Wolf said in surprise. Wiping some sweat from his forehead, the Wanderer asked, "What’s up? You usually don’t call during the week."

"No, but then again, I rarely have an opportunity like this," Cassandra giggled. "You aren’t going to believe who’s in Sunnydale at this very moment, Steve."

"Cass," Steve sighed wearily, "I’m only halfway through with unloading a large shipment of furniture, so I don’t have time to play twenty questions. Please, just tell me."

Cassandra sighed. "You’re no fun," she scolded. "Diana Tregarde is there."

"Who?"

"Gods, Steven, don’t you have any life whatsoever?" the Immortal asked haughtily.

"Between working for Robert, Merlin, the CIA, the British Secret Service, the---"

Hastings shouted, "All right!" Another sigh came over the line. "You should have heard of Diana Tregarde on two levels, Steven. The first, Di is to romance novels what I am to fantasies."

"And the second?" Steve asked dryly. <Like I read romance novels.>

"She’s a Guardian."

NOW Steve began paying closer attention. "A Guardian? Why is she in Sunnydale?"

"You’re going to love this," the author promised. She gave Steve the information passed onto her by Di, as well as informing him of her own abilities. By the time she finished, Steve saw what was going on. She asked, "So, do you think you can pull it off?"

"Oh, I think we can manage," Steve chuckled. He scanned the furniture still to be unloaded and decided he could finish in time if he hurried. "Tell you what; call her back and tell her to be at my house at five p.m. sharp. And tell her to bring this Livingston woman with her."

"Two questions I need to ask," Cassandra informed him. "First, how much will you tell her?"

"You told me she knows about Immortals, but I don’t want her friend knowing. I’ll figure out what else to tell her as we go along." Steve then added, "And to answer what I figure your second question to be, I’ll have the cameras set up beforehand."

"Don’t worry, Steve," Cassandra said between laughs. "I’ll have Frank make it worth your while."

"Thanks," Steve said as he hung up. Just as he was putting his phone away, Robert and Carol walked into the storeroom. "Robert, I’m going to have to ask if I can leave a half-hour early."

With concern in her voice, Carol asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No, Carol," Steve chuckled. He leaned back against the wall. "It seems that a friend of a friend chose to come to Sunnydale, to do some lectures at the high school and take a miniature vacation. That’s where things get interesting. The person in question had a close encounter with two of Buffy’s friends. Said friends took it upon themselves to put this person on notice that they’d be watching her, should she be here to make any mischief."

"Is she?" Carol asked with a touch of caution.

"No, Carol. The fact is, this person is the type who prevents such mischief in the first place," Steve assured his co-boss. In fact, she promptly called our mutual friend when *her* name came up. So my friend tells her that she knows ‘someone’ here in Sunnydale, who can help her keep Buffy’s friends from making any mischief. Three guesses who."

Robert saw where this was going. He began chuckling with Steve. "Your mutual friend wants you to set this other person up. What kind of joke are you going to play on her?"

"Oh, we’re going to give her ‘the treatment,’ Robert," the Wanderer joked. "She’ll arrive at about the same time that Buffy and I are starting our workout."

"Oh, that poor woman," Carol expressed with a shudder. "Steve, how could you?"

"Quite easily," Steve answered. "Since the brains behind this little escapade happens to be my best friend’s girlfriend. I’ve mentioned Frank before."

"What are they, Steve?" Robert dryly asked. "Army, Navy, CIA?"

Steve shook his head. "Worse. They’re writers."

Robert and Carol did double takes. "Writers?" they asked.

"Yep." Steve started walking to unload more furniture. "Writer A, the one arranging a three thousand mile practical joke, is the author of the Elven Bard series, Cassandra Hastings. She’s Frank’s girlfriend."

Robert’s mind didn’t register the name, but Carol recognized it. "Wait, the fantasy author? Steve, she’s one of the top selling sword and sorcery novelists in the country."

"I know that," St. Wolf said as he lifted a chair out of the truck with a grunt. "I’ve known Cass for nearly ten years."

"Who’s the victim to be?" Robert asked with a smile.

"A friend of Cassandra’s," the Immortal said as he carried the chair to its place in the warehouse. "Have you ever heard of Diana Tregarde?"

By Robert’s moan and the shine that came to Carol’s eyes, the answer was fairly obvious. Carol’s eyes became angry as she remembered that the joke was planned for her favorite author. She demanded, "Steve St. Wolf, you CAN’T play this joke!!"

"Why not?" Steve asked. "It wasn’t my idea. I don’t even know the woman."

"Steve," Carol coolly informed the young man, "Diana Tregarde’s only five feet tall."

"Five foot one," Steve corrected as he dusted off the chair.

Carol’s eyes narrowed. "She only weighs a hundred pounds."

Steve lifted a footrest out of the truck. "One-oh-five, according to Cassie."

"Steve, she’s a romance writer!" Carol pleaded.

Steve grinned at her ire as he set the footrest against the wall. "She’s a third degree black belt in karate."

Carol stiffened at the news. Robert started chuckling. "The girl’s got skills, eh, Steve?"

"That she does," Steve told him while thinking, <Robert, you don’t know the half of it.> "The thing is, she knows how to handle herself. But there’s the chance that she’ll show the kids a thing or two. Carol, I’ll even ask her if she’d be willing to drop by and autograph your books. That’s to keep you from tracking her down and warning her."

Carol glared at him, weighing her options. The look in her eyes became playful. "You drive a hard bargain, Steve."

The three shared a grin. Robert said, "Ah, go ahead, Steve, get out of here. I’m sure you can use the extra setup time. I’ll finish unloading the truck."

"Thanks, Robert," the Texan chuckled. "I’ll call tonight and tell you if Diana’s willing to make a personal appearance."

Steve left the warehouse with Carol laughing at Robert’s soft groans.

*****

Sunnydale High School
Sunnydale, California
1 April 1999

Di opened the phone before the first ring ended. "Cass?"

"In one, Di," the Immortal witch gaily answered. "I have good news if you want it."

"Cass, don’t string me along," Di said, her voice laden with sarcasm. <I can almost see you smiling back in New York.> "What did he say?"

"Do you remember me mentioning Frank’s friend, Steve?" she asked. "Steve St. Wolf?"

Di racked her brain for details from past meetings with Cassandra. "Isn’t he an antiques dealer? Or a relic hunter like that professor from Trinity College?"

"That’s his ‘day job,’" the Witch of the Wood informed her. "He also has a night job. Have you ever heard of the Wanderer?"

Tregarde’s voice was a squeak when she answered. "The Wanderer? The demon hunter?"

"The one and only," Cass cheerfully confirmed. She added, "I’ve already talked to him. He said to tell you to bring Sandy to the meeting at his house at five p. m. sharp."

As Di looked over at Sandra, the writer continued, "But he added a caveat; she is *not* to be told about Immortality. Granted, he’s a young whippersnapper. . ."

"Cass, Sandy’s right here and we’re short on options *and* patience," Di said as a quiet warning to the Immortal on the other end of the line.

Cassandra sighed heavily. "No one’s letting me have any fun today. He’s forty, Di. Ex-U. S. Army. He occasionally works for the CIA and British Secret Service. Now listen; the address is 317 Bryant Terrace in Sunnydale. Your friend can find it, I’m sure. But don’t be surprised by the protection he has up. I don’t want you to be frightened."

"Very funny," Di said while feeling tremendous relief. "Thanks again, Cass."

"Don’t say that you owe me, Di," the authoress told her. "I will collect. And one more thing; dress appropriately."

Di shook her head as she put the phone away, wondering about Cassandra’s last words. She replaced the phone in her purse and turned to the expectant teacher.

Sandra, having watched the whole scenario, said, "I take it you have a destination in mind?"

"Yes, Sandy," the witch responded. She glanced at the Lit instructor and asked, "Do you know where Bryant Terrace is?"

Sandy grinned and nodded. "Yes," she replied as she began closing up her desk. "It’s about ten minutes from my house. What time are we supposed to meet this ‘Wanderer?’"

"Five o’clock," Di answered. She looked around and sent out a passive scan of the surrounding area. Sensing no mystically inclined signatures nearby, she told Sandy, "Let’s head over to your place, and I’ll charge up for about thirty minutes. No sense in taking chances."

"That’ll give me some time to arrange the outlines," Sandra said. She packed up her books and said, "Let’s go."

Di smiled.

*****

317 Bryant Terrace
Sunnydale, California
1 April 1999

"Ye Gods," Di whispered as she took in the house in front of her.

"I agree," Sandy said in appreciation. "This house is beautiful."

"And virtually impenetrable," the Guardian added. She ‘looked’ over the house once more. "Doc, I’m sensing *four* layers of Wards over this place! And you won’t believe the combinations."

"Try me."

"Alright, but remember, you asked for it," Di muttered. Squinting, she began rattling off the types of magics she sensed. "The outermost layer is White Magic, of an archmage level."

"Archmage?" Sandy asked in disbelief. "As in a full-ranking wizard?"

"Yep," the empathy softly replied. "The second layer is witchcraft and is made of three separate types. I’m sensing Wicca and Hecatan magic, but the third is a new one to me. The other two are divine magic, Greek and Christian. Christ on a crutch, Livingston, you could hit this place---"

"With a psychic nuke and not penetrate," the Literature teacher quoted with a grin. "Right?"

Di corrected her friend with a worried glance. "I was thinking more along the lines of a photon torpedo." She pulled her senses back into the mundane world. "Sandy, nothing short of a God is going to penetrate these Wards unless it’s recognized as a ‘friendly.’"

"Somehow," Sandra confessed with a shiver, "that doesn’t reassure me."

"You and me both." Di checked her outfit once more; a simple gray suit that could be worn by secretaries, attorneys, or stockbrokers. <Or Guardians meeting a demon hunting antiques dealer.> Shaking off her uneasiness, Di said, "Let’s get this over with."

"Lead on, O Fearless Leader," Sandy quipped with false confidence.

Di rolled her eyes as she knocked on the door. She didn’t even have to wait fifteen seconds before someone answered.

<Jesus H. Christ!> Di and Sandy thought in unison. <What a hunk!>

St. Wolf stood six-foot-three and weighed just less than two hundred pounds. He had dark brown hair and eyes and his arms, bared by his tank top, were perfectly chiseled. He let a smile touch his lips as he watched the women stare at him.

"Ms. Tregarde, I’m Steve St. Wolf," the man said pleasantly. He glanced at Sandra and asked, "Mrs. Livingston? I’ve heard good things about you."

Sandy immediately sobered. "From who?" she asked bluntly.

"Some friends of mine who help me out," Steve answered. When she frowned at his evasive answer, he added, "Mrs. Livingston, please remember I have the confidences of others to protect. I’m willing to share information, but only if someone can vouch for you."

Sandra’s jaw clenched at the insinuation. Di abruptly snapped, "I can vouch for her, Mr. St. Wolf."

"Since I have two people vouching for you, I’ll take your endorsement," St. Wolf said. Stepping back into the house, he said, "Please, come in."

<Two people vouching for me?> Di thought. She dismissed the idea. <One is Cass, the other’s probably Frank Iverson.>

Steve led the pair into the living room and offered both women a seat. Sandra sat on the couch, while Di chose one of the two easy chairs. Steve took the other one.

<All right, let’s get this started.> Di leaned forward and asked, "Mr. St. Wolf. . ."

"Please, call me Steve."

Di grinned cautiously. "All right, Steve, as long as you call me Di. Did Cassie tell you what happened at the school today?"

"Oh, yeah. Shaw Hunter and Faith Pryce," he said with a sigh. <The Twin Towers of Tactlessness.> "I understand that they lit themselves up for you. I got the information you passed onto Cassandra, most of which I already have some knowledge of. However, there are some people who know more about those two then I do. But before you meet them, I’d like to make each of you an offer."

Di’s warning bells went off. "What kind of ‘offer?’"

"In your case, Di," Steve said as he leaned back and clasped one knee, "a position in Section Seven. Barring that, an offer to exchange assistance and information when needed. We have a vast network of information at our disposal, but even we have our limits. Even if you turned down ‘active’ membership, we’d still be willing to provide assistance to you on a case-by-case basis."

"Steve, I think I’m a little old to be playing ‘commando,’" Di said with a snort.

Steve nodded silently. He tactfully said, "Even so, I’m certain that you could be a big help on certain cases. As it is, if you want, I can give you phone numbers of some of my ‘coworkers’ in the New York area. As I said, the choice is yours."

Di nodded slowly as she went over the information. She glanced at Steve. "Would it be acceptable for me to think this over?"

"Of course," Steve consented with a smile.

"And what kind of offer do you have for me?" Sandra asked their host. "I’m not. . . ‘gifted’ like Di is."

"I understand, Mrs. Livingston," the man told her. Leaning forward, he said, "The offer for you would be this; to help us on an ‘as needed’ basis, doing what I’m told you specialize in; research and data collecting. We have a massive collection of information and research material at our fingertips, but at times it can overwhelm the researchers on our team. This is one of the problems our team has; several of my people are very good at research, but they all have other training that takes priority, such as magic, witchcraft, hand-to-hand training, you name it. We don’t have a person who can completely devote themselves to books."

"So this wouldn’t involve combat?" Sandy asked.

Steve honestly answered, "Not unless things went completely down the proverbial crapper."

Di laughed and said, "And *that* is truth in advertising if I ever heard it!"

"Very funny," she drawled. With a sigh, she told Steve, "Mr. St. Wolf, I’ll think about it. I don’t have a problem with your proposal, provided you understand that my students are my top priority."

"I can accept that," St. Wolf agreed. He relaxed a bit and said, "Now, a little bit on what you can expect from time to time, should either of you choose to accept this offer. The team here isn’t the only group I work with."

"Are you saying the CIA knows about vampires, demons, etc.?" the Guardian asked, more sharply than she’d intended to.

"Certain people, at the highest levels of clearance," Steve told her to alleviate her fears. "I also have contacts with various law enforcement agencies who know about such things. What I was about to discuss were the mystical experts I’ve worked with in the past."

Reluctantly, Di said, "All right, Steve. Lay it on us."

"Brace yourselves," Steve said with a grin. He took a deep breath and began reciting his list. "Among the arcane groups I’ve worked with are the C’est Dei, the Sons of Asgard, High Priests and Priestesses of Wicca, the Millennium Group, the Legacy, White Mages, Gargoyles, Children of Oberon and Lords of the Tuatha Du Danaan, and the Council of Dragons."

Sandy’s jaw had dropped in utter shock, but to her credit, Di had managed to keep her emotions in check. After a few seconds of consideration, she said, "You’re serious, aren’t you?"

"I’m afraid so, Di," Steve said with a lopsided smile. "Lastly, there’s the group I work *for*."

Di sighed. "I’m afraid to ask, but go ahead."

Steve stood up and said, "I’m a Knight Lieutenant in the Order of the Grail, and I serve Merlin and Niume as their personal champion."

Sandy jumped out of her seat. "Now THAT’S too much! Di, let’s get out of here!"

"He’s telling the truth, Sandy," Di easily said. She shot a tiny grin in her friend’s direction. "Don’t forget, I happen to know some of those High Priests and Priestesses."

"You mean he’s for real?" the educator asked in disbelief. "Di, I’ve seen and done a lot, but even I find it hard to believe."

"As strange as it is, he’s for real," Di said as she looked back to Steve. "Any more bombshells?"

"A few," the Immortal chuckled. "Did Cassandra tell you about my toys?"

When the Guardian shook her head, he walked over to a doorway. He walked into the room and came back bearing some items. Di’s eyes shifted into the magical side, but seconds later she shifted back to keep herself from being mystically blinded. She stammered, "Lord and Lady protect me! Jesus H. Christ, St. Wolf! Where in the Gods’ names did you get THREE relics?"

Sandra had now riveted her eyes on the small stash, primarily on the katana shedding a blue light along the kanji-inscribed blade. She dryly asked, "Are you going to tell us what those are, or do we have to play ‘twenty questions?’"

"I’ll tell you, Mrs. Livingston," the host chuckled. He held up a pair of silver armbands. "These are the Bracers of Hercules, made by Hephaestus on Olympus." He set the Bracers down and picked up two identical daggers. He said, "These are the Fangs of Tyr. They were created by Norse priests to battle their enemies, the frost giants of Jotunheim."

Steve set the knives on the table next to the armbands, and then picked up the katana. Di watched him look at her. "Di? Would you care to do the honors?"

Di felt Sandra looking at her awe-stricken face. She whispered, "Demon Slayer. The Sword of Destiny known as Demon Slayer. Ye Gods, it’s no wonder the underworld wets their pants when they hear your name."

"That unpleasant image aside, thanks for the compliment," St. Wolf commented. "Now, shall we meet the rest of my team?"

"Do I want to?" Tregarde muttered, still shaken over her contact’s "toys."

"It’ll be okay," Steve promised her with a devil may care grin. "In fact, I think that Mrs. Livingston will have the upper hand on you, being a local resident."

"Somehow I doubt that," Sandra muttered, unconvinced.

Steve stood up and said, "I’ll escort you to my weight room. Shall we?"

Di stood up with the fluid grace of a ballerina and followed Steve. She grinned at Sandy’s hesitance, watching the teacher as she stood and followed.

Steve came up to the door and pushed it open a bit. "Ladies, after you."

Di smiled at the Immortal’s manners and led the way in, Sandy right behind her. She heard the door creak as Steve followed them in, but both women had their attention focused somewhere else.

It was focused on the group of people, the majority of them being teenagers, that filled the training room.

Di could sense the massive amount of magical energy these people had between them, including White Magic, Wicca, Hecate, two additional Immortals. . .

"Ye Gods," Di muttered. She looked at her friend and said, "Sandy. . ."

"Jenny?" Sandra asked, not believing her eyes. "Rupert?" She looked between the two smiling teachers before turning back to their host. "Who the Hell do you think you are, teaching these kids how to fight vampires?!?"

Before Steve could answer, Di spoke up in his defense. "Sandy, it’s all right. Most of them have magic inside of them."

"But. . ." Sandy mumbled before collecting herself. Attempting to regain her composure, the Lit teacher said, "Jenny, Rupert, would you mind explaining to me, just what is going on here?"

"Of course, Sandra," the one she’d called Rupert replied with a cultured British accent, "but would it be permissible to make introductions to you and Miss Tregarde? I assure you, explanations will be forthcoming."

Sandy looked at Di, caught off guard by the laid back attitude displayed by the Englishman. The empath evenly nodded and said, "That’s acceptable, thank you."

"Thank you," the man said back to her. He glanced at one end of the group and started placing names with the faces. "Miss Tregarde, my name is Rupert Giles, please call me Giles or Rupert. Now. . ." he said, inclining his head toward two short redheaded teens, "Starting at the end, may I introduce Oz Green and his girlfriend, Willow Rosenberg. Standing next to them are Cordelia Chase and her boyfriend, Xander Harris." Cordelia and Xander were dark-haired teens whose body English betrayed them as born warriors, although the looks in their eyes suggested that Cordelia was appraising the visitors while the boy called Xander found something greatly amusing in the situation. Rupert moved closer to him as he moved his glance to a young adult blonde woman and the red-haired boy next to her. "That young woman is Randi Jessup, next to her is her younger brother, Brian. This ravishing woman next to me," he said as he looked and smiled at the woman who wrapped an arm around his waist, "is my fiancée, Jenny Calendar. Moving onward, the two women to my left are Buffy Summers and Kendra McPherson." The pair was a blonde girl that Di recognized as an Immortal that smiled at her, and an African-American beauty that nodded to her in a grave, noble manner. Rupert than nodded to a large, athletic teenager. "This strapping young lad next to me is Larry Blaisdell and the young woman next to him is named Amy Madison," he said, indicating the blonde woman next to the jock. Finally, he reached the four well-dressed men standing off slightly to the side. "The four gentlemen in tweed are members of the Council of Watchers, who are present to observe our training techniques. The eldest gentleman is my father, Lord Edwin Giles, Earl of Leicester. His companions are Wesley Wyndham-Price, Owen Marshall, and Anthony Pierce."

Di was busy memorizing names, but she still heard Steve ask, "Aren’t we missing three?"

"Robin called to say that they would be here momentarily," Giles assured him.

"Pleased to meet all of you," Di cautiously greeted the crowd. "Now, about Sandy’s question; why do you let these kids fight?"

"Mrs. Livingston, Di," Steve said, drawing glares from the pair, "each of the people here has made a conscious choice to be here. Each has their own gifts."

"And just what gifts are they?" Sandy demanded.

"You know about me already," Steve said with a grin. <Here we go.> "All right, from the top. Jenny, Willow, Cordelia, and Amy are Amazons, warrior women sworn to serve Artemis, Greek Goddess of the Hunt and the Moon and Patron Goddess of the Virtual Amazon Nation. Amy, Jenny, and Willow are also witches, belonging to various traditions of witchcraft. Randi wields the Sword of St. Catherine, once used by Joan of Arc."

Di noted how Sandy, a staunch Catholic, crossed herself at the mention of the two Catholic saints.

Steve allowed them to assimilate the information before continuing. "Brian is the reincarnation of Sir Marcus the Valiant. Buffy and Kendra are Slayers, with Buffy wielding the mate of my Sword, Vampire Slayer. Xander, Oz, Giles, and Larry have been granted empowerments by another member of our team. Beyond the empowerments, Xander has the skills of a Green Beret courtesy of a Chaos worshipper, Oz is a werewolf, Giles is an ace researcher and skilled Mage, and Larry was an outstanding athlete before the empowerment."

Di could see the kids’ eyes shining with humor. She knew that it was from the identical looks of shock worn by both her and Sandra. <Christ on a crutch!> she thought to herself. <If the Pryce and Hunter girls need to be handled, I could just let them take over. I could just turn around and walk out. . .>

She shook her head in awe. "Ye Gods, St. Wolf. You don’t pull any punches, do you?"

"Di!" Sandra snapped out loud. "How can you take this so calmly?!?"

"I don’t personally know these people like you do, Doc," Di said. She grinned at her companion. "But if it’s any consolation, I’m somewhat shocked, too." She ‘looked’ at the kids again to memorize the individual magical signatures and stopped when she focused on the two Slayers. She realized where she’d seen that magical fingerprint before. A sinking feeling began to form in her stomach. "Ye Gods," she whispered. "Sandy. . ."

"What is it?" Sandra asked. She caught the worry in Di’s voice and asked, "Di, tell me what’s---"

"HEY TEACH!!!" a familiar, Northeastern voice called out. "How’s it hanging?"

Di and Sandra froze in place. After a short delay in their reactions, both women turned to see three late arrivals walking into the room. Sandra tenses upon recognizing Pryce and Hunter, but Di was locking her eyes onto the handsome young man standing between them.

<Ohhhhh noooo. . .>

"What the Hell is going ON HERE?!?" the teacher shouted angrily.

"We can explain, Sandra," Jenny Calendar said with a smile. Di turned to see her looking at the tardy ones. "Girls?"

"It’s like this, Teach," Faith said with a devilish grin. Di belatedly noticed that the girls were now dressed in exercise clothes. "When we saw your friend, we thought she might be some kind of nasty magic thing. So we lit ourselves up to let her know we weren’t gonna let her play that in our town."

"But. . ." Sandra started before several bits on information shot to the front of her mind. <Oh God! Rupert’s the librarian and Amy’s. . .> She glared at Steve and demanded, "Who ARE they, St. Wolf? Tell us now!"

"Sandy, I think it’s okay," Di said. She gripped her friend’s forearm and gently squeezed it. "Faith’s a Slayer, like the other two."

"Three Slayers?" Sandy asked. Something about the legends of Slayers registered in her mind. With crinkled eyes, she said, "I thought there could be only one."

"That’s for someone else," Buffy said, prompting giggles from some of the kids.

Sandra glared at the student. "Fine. Faith is a Slayer as well." She looked from Buffy to the other grinning woman and asked, "Well, Ms. Hunter? What about you?"

The black-tressed woman, now dressed in a t-shirt, red spandex tights, and sneakers, smiled at her teacher. "What is strange about that question, Mrs. Livingston, is that you have had the answer to it since three o’clock."

"How is that?" a confused Sandra asked.

Eyes sparkling with mischief, Faith answered. "Well, we handed in our outlines, remember? Didn’t you read ‘em yet?"

Di looked to the folders Sandra still had with her. Sandra’s face became puzzled, but she nevertheless opened the appropriate folder and began searching for the proper outline. Di’s attention stayed on the two girls. She warily watched as Shaw reached up and brushed her hair behind her right ear. Di stared at in shock as the girl just continued smiling at her.

Di was stunned once again and woodenly said, "Sandy. . ."

"Just a second, Di," the distracted teacher said as she thumbed through the papers.

"Sandy. . ." Di repeated.

"Let’s see," Sandy said to herself, "David. . . Navy SEAL? Cute. Jessica. . . a witch. Very clever. Faith. . ."

"Joan of Arc in the ‘hood," the Slayer cheerfully piped in, trying to keep herself from laughing.

"Sandy!" Di snapped.

Sandra’s head jerked up. "What IS it, Spooky?"

"Look."

The teacher looked at Shaw, whose grin grew wider. She saw the pointed ear that her pupil had exposed. She sent a glance at the paper again to scan the notes on Shaw’s character. Her eyes widened in understanding and she looked back at her grinning students. She tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to form a coherent sentence. "B-b-b-b-but. . . you. . ."

Shaw cocked her head to one side and said, "You did tell us to, and I quote, ‘base our characters on ourselves,’ Mrs. Livingston."

"Yes, but. . ." Sandra stopped and turned toward the now laughing crowd. She looked at the blonde girl named Amy and asked, "Is this for real?"

"Which part?" Amy retorted with a wicked smile. "The half-elf part, the priestess part, or the being my cousin part?"

"How about, ‘all of the above?’" Di asked with a trace of sarcasm.

"Yep," her fellow witch admitted. "All of it." Off of Sandra’s disbelieving expression, she rolled her eyes. "Mrs. Livingston, I’m an Amazon witch living on the Hellmouth, working with the Slayers, and I’m dating a fairy. Like a half-elven cousin’s a big deal."

Di and Sandra looked at her in shock. Di quietly asked, "A fairy?"

"Yo!" the unidentified young man called out. When they turned to look at him, he cheerfully walked forward and offered his hand. "Robin Goodfellow, at your service."

Di scanned him and realized that he was indeed a fairy. "THAT Goodfellow?"

"Yep," the man confirmed with a chipper voice. "Nice books, by the way. Not in William’s class, of course, but good reads nonetheless."

Di blinked at a character out of Shakespeare critiquing her novels. "You’ve read my books?"

"I thought he could learn something," Amy added from behind her.

"Excuse me!" Sandra interrupted hastily. "I’m sorry to keep this from becoming a Literature convention, but just WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!?"

Di sighed at the termination of her friend’s patience. "Sorry, but she’s right. May we please know what is going on, Steve?"

"Miss Tregarde," Shaw interrupted, "I thought that Cassandra told you to dress appropriately."

In a dry whisper, the Guardian asked, "How did you know that?"

"That suit ain’t gonna cut it, Mizz Tregarde," Faith added. "No way."

Di’s eyes narrowed at the insult. "It won’t cut it for what, Miss Pryce?"

It was Steve who answered. "Sparring, of course."

Sandra dazedly asked, "What?"

Di, however, finally had the pieces begin to fall into place; Cassandra’s humored voice; St. Wolf showing off one surprise after another; the humor in the eyes of the kids; the meeting in the dojo. . .

<Dojo?> Di asked herself. She turned her head this way and that, taking in the equipment, the people and, once again, the grins on their faces, as she finally figured out that she’d been very neatly trapped. Di, always one to speak her mind, let her feelings be known immediately. "Ohhhhhh! That Gods’ blasted Hastings is a DEAD woman!"

Faith grinned at Shaw. "So much for that collaboration, Hunter."

"I can dream," the woman grinned back.

Sandy looked to Di as she tried to understand her former leader’s reaction. "Di, what’s wrong?"

Di sent a cold look in Steve’s direction. "Sandy, Cassandra set me up!" she spelled out. She waved an arm around the training room. "Cassie wants me to get my butt kicked sparring with AMAZONS! She *knows* these kids! She *knew* who I was talking about! She set it up so I’d get stuck on the practice mats with them! I’m gonna KILL her!"

"How many times?" the Slayer named Buffy asked.

"I’ll use my imagination," Di chillingly promised.

Faith added, "And that’s the sex writer talking."

The crowd allowed themselves to break into laughter, although the three younger men called Watchers were more restrained in their hilarity. Sandra finally put the pieces together and began laughing herself, earning an icy glare from her partner.

"Et tu, Livingston?" the witch asked rhetorically.

Steve came up to Di and said, "It gets better. My boss wouldn’t let me off early unless I asked you if you’d be willing to put in a private appearance at the antiques shop."

Di moaned in despair. "This is NOT how I want my vacation to go!"

"Don’t worry," the brunette named Cordelia said sweetly, "we’ll go easy on you."

"Why doesn’t that reassure me?" Di crossly asked. Finally, she sighed in resignation. "I know I’m gonna regret this. But at least it was a false alarm."

*****

Mayor’s Office
City Hall
Sunnydale, California
1 April 1999

A soft knock rapped on the door to Richard Wilkins III’s office. He looked up from the plans he was working on for improving Weatherly Park and smiled. "Come in."

A slim, well-dressed African-American man walked in. He looked at the windows, taking note of where the sunlight fell. Sensing his guest’s discomfort, the Mayor stood and drew the curtains, blocking the light from entering.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Trick," Wilkins greeted his associate. "You’re up bright and early. It’s good to see you following the old saying, ‘early to bed, early to rise.’ Marks a young professional such as yourself."

"Well, I’m thinking that I should have stayed in bed this evening," Trick replied. He adjusted the tie on his custom-tailored suit and said, "I got a report that a Diana Tregarde is in town. This is a very bad occurrence."

"The romance writer?" Wilkins asked with interest. "Why, that’s nice. Margo’s a fan of hers."

"Mr. Mayor, you don’t understand," the techno-vamp said dryly. "Diana Tregarde isn’t your run of the mill author of books to entertain members and hotties of the opposite gender. According to one of my informants who got fried by her a few years ago, she’s also a Guardian."

Wilkins’ face went pasty white at that news. He looked Trick straight in the eyes with an expression of disappointment. "Can you tell me why a Guardian is visiting our fair town?"

Now, Trick let a smirk creep onto his face. "Off hand, I’d say she’s taking a break from signing autographs. I checked the chick’s publisher’s website," he boasted proudly. "She’s been making the rounds of conventions and Malls in the Southwest and Pacific Coast. It turns out that a local lady went to college with the author and since the Guardian isn’t staying at one of the local hotels, I’d wager that her friend took her in for the duration of her stay."

"Who is Miss Tregarde staying with?" the Mayor asked with genuine interest.

"Sandra Livingston," the African-American told his boss. When the Mayor’s eyebrows rose in recognition, he guessed, "You know her? Teacher at the High School?"

"We’ve met before," the Mayor agreed with a reminiscent smile. "A fine woman and a very fine teacher. But if the Guardian’s on vacation, and nothing more, we can let her be."

"I don’t think that would be a good idea," Trick responded.

For the first time, the Mayor’s tone became less than pleasant. "Why ever would you say that, my friend?"

Realizing that he’d better choose his words carefully, the underling said, "Well, it seems that the Guardian is working at the school, lecturing the Generation X’ers on how to do the author thing. While that’s not a bad thing in itself, one of her lecturees happens to be named Faith Pryce."

"The Slayer," the Mayor whispered. The wheels turned in his head as he considered that information. "A Guardian lecturing a Slayer’s class, with a Slayer who works for the Wanderer, thus creating the possibility that they might meet."

"Which might spell trouble for enterprising Mayors looking to move up in the world," Trick finished. "While their meeting each other might not be too catastrophic in itself, I would worry about them directing their attention toward us."

The Mayor nodded thoughtfully. "What would you suggest, then?"

"Well," Trick said with a toothy grin, "what if I were to tell you that I could contact a small group of Black Mages who have developed a spell that can bring a single demon through from Hell, without opening the Hellmouth or making the normal ‘messes.’ No Hellmouth, no sacrifices, no tracing it back to us. Very clean."

"There wouldn’t be any other risks?" Wilkins asked carefully.

The vampire seriously considered the question. Finally, he shrugged. "The only downsides I could see are which demon the Darth Vader wannabes bring through with their spell, and the potential for collateral and property damage if the Wanderer, the Slayer, and their friends throw down with our prospective summoners. Of course, if they did it in the proper location, it might persuade the City Council to approve your plans for redecorating the park."

"Yes, you’re right," Wilkins said brightly. He glanced at his proposal for Weatherly, then back at the smiling Trick. "Mr. Trick, would be you so kind as to contact these Mages and ask them if they’d be willing to try their spell in a town where the Mayor has no objections and needs a little redecoration of the park?"

"Gladly," the vampire said with enthusiasm. "I’ll see you when I have his response."

"That’s a good lad," the Mayor chuckled.

Trick walked out to make his phone call. The Mayor steeped his fingers, thinking about this new development.

<I’m in my one hundred days of invincibility,> Wilkins thought to himself. <The Slayer Swords can’t kill me, so I needn’t worry about a mere Guardian, either. Still, I don’t like having so little information on the dear Ms. Tregarde.>

The Mayor thought back over the events of recent months. <Spike and Drusilla passing through on occasion, that’s just these are their favorite hunting grounds. The Silerwor? That one is dangerous, but he’s only interested in killing off Immortals. It’s his ability to recruit local talent that I’d prefer hiring myself that irks me. I don’t like the competition. Of course, the last I heard, the Wanderer and the Slayer had run him out of town. A third Slayer on the Hellmouth. . . a minor addition, nothing more. So, all in all, nothing that I see that could compromise the Ascension. So why does this Guardian’s arrival worry me?> He swiftly came to the obvious conclusion. <I know nothing about her. Well, perhaps I can change that.>

The Mayor reached for his phone and dialed a number in Los Angeles. A few seconds later, a cultured voice answered him.

"Wolfram and Hart, attorneys at law," Jason Holland politely answered.

"Mr. Holland, how are you this fine day?" the Mayor asked.

Holland’s voice became positively friendly. "Mayor Wilkins? Your Honor, how are you doing? How can I be of assistance?"

"Actually, I just need some information of a ‘special’ nature."

"Hmmm," Holland mused. He reluctantly said, "I hope you can understand, Mr. Mayor, that our local database was nearly wiped out by the ingenious virus inserted into our mainframe by those raiders back in December. If I can find anything, it would have to come from an outside source."

"That shouldn’t be a problem, Mr. Holland," Richard replied good-naturedly. "It involves someone from the New York area. A Guardian named Tregarde, who makes her living as a romance novelist."

"Let me check our records," Holland said, "and I’ll call you back as soon as possible."

"Thank you so much," Wilkins gratefully said as he broke the connection.

It took only fifteen minutes for Holland to deliver the bad news.

"Mister Mayor," Holland said ruefully, "the news isn’t very good. This Tregarde woman has defeated all forms of creatures, including some we do business with. Nightflyers, gaki, sorceresses, and many minor demons. At the top of the list, however, are four priestesses and the Avatar of Tezcatlipoca."

Wilkins was stunned. He whispered, "How did she defeat an Aztec God’s Avatar?"

"By summoning the God’s brother," the attorney answered. "Queztacoatl."

The Mayor of Sunnydale pondered that information more carefully. He looked around his office and came up with an idea. "Does she have any allies?"

Holland paused, probably looking over notes. "She has contacts with the Hartford and Dallas police departments. But as for more ‘unique’ allies, she seems to work alone. I can tell you this; her lover is a vampire."

"She loves a vampire?" Wilkins asked, wondering if she might actually oppose the Slayers. "What kind, if I might ask?"

"Kindred, the rumors say," the lawyer informed him. "Toreador, most likely."

Wilkins absently nodded; so much for that idea. Holland took the opportunity to ask, "Do you require assistance at this time, Mayor Wilkins? We could attempt to track down the Aztec’s priestesses, if you want her eliminated."

"No, not eliminated," Wilkins said. He tapped his chin several times in consideration. "Perhaps as an insurance policy, Mr. Holland. I could use someone to distract the young lady, should she start snooping around my affairs. But I would like you to call on someone I have on retainer."

"Of course," Holland said agreeably. "Anything to be of service. Did you have someone particular in mind?"

"Yes, my friend. Yes," the Mayor admitted. A cheerful smile came to his face. "The best of the best, Mr. Holland. Would you be so kind as to contact my friend Krtog for me?"

Surprisingly, Wilkins heard Holland’s voice tremble a bit. "Did you say, Krtog?"

"Yes, Mr. Holland. After all, good help is hard to find. Good night."

The Mayor broke the connection and smiled. Sometimes, delegating authority was just so fun.

*****

St. Wolf Residence
Sunnydale, California
1 April 1999

THUMP!

Diana landed hard on her back. Before her opponent could finish the round, she rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the soft stomp from Willow. Di rose into a crouch, settling into a defensive position as she attempted to ignore the nagging aches and pains that called for her attention.

<Take it easy, they said,> the witch tiredly thought. <They said they’d take it easy on me.>

They had, she had to admit. Even so, the training session had been rough; Cordelia had beaten her in thirty seconds flat, tossing her with a hard judo throw that had rattled Di’s teeth on the impact. In her next match, she’d been able to defeat the young woman named Randi, who shared a sympathetic grin when she admitted that she knew what it was like, facing Amazons and empowered men on a daily basis.

Fortunately for Di’s pride, that hadn’t been the end of her success, although Sandra was laughing at her more often than not. Oz had pinned her in just less than twenty seconds, but the novelist had come back strong, beating Shaw after an intense three-minute exchange that had ended when Guardian evaded a combo in which the half-elf had thrown a spin kick and immediately reversed the momentum, launching a side kick at Di’s head. She had ducked the second move and grabbed Shaw’s outstretched leg, yanking her to the mat. One reverse punch later, she scored the winning point. But then Larry had caught her and literally tossed her across the mat in less than five seconds. Needless to say, attacking empowered high school jocks was permanently off of Di’s strategic list.

Di went on the attack again. She initiated a series of punches and kicks aimed at finding a hole in her opponent’s defenses. She spied a possible opening and took it; she aimed a side kick at the redhead’s temple.

Faster than normal eyes could follow, the younger witch ducked and swung her leg through Di’s grounded one. The empath crashed to the mat, her head hitting with a muffled "whoomp." Willow rolled forward and threw a faked lunging punch, stopping just short of Di’s chin.

"Gotcha," Willow said with a smile on her pale face.

"Point," Steve called out to chuckles from the others.

Willow held out a hand, which Di gratefully took. Di let the young Wiccan help her up and remarked, "Very good."

"Well, the Lady Goddess helped a bit," she said with her self-deprecating manner.

Di nodded but told her, "It’s not all empowerment. The training you’ve gotten from Steve accounts for a lot of it."

Willow blushed, but her smile deepened. "Thanks, Miss Tregarde."

"Di, how are you feeling?" Steve innocently asked.

Di glared at him, since he knew exactly how sore she felt. "Like one big bruise," she informed him. "Are you satisfied now, or should I say, is CASS satisfied now?"

When the kids started snickering, she knew something was up once again. She looked at their appointed spokeswoman. "Buffy, what’s going on now?"

Buffy grinned at her. "Well, I think Cassandra’s satisfied. I mean, it’s amazing what you can do with a computer, hidden cameras, and live Internet feeds."

It didn’t take Di or Sandra long to realize what that meant. After a few more seconds of slack-jawed silence, Sandra began laughing along with her students and co-workers.

Di looked at Sandra through hooded eyes and said, "What’s so funny, Doctor Livingston? You’re on the tape, too."

"Not getting tossed around the room like a rag doll, I’m not," Sandy wheezed through her tears. Upon regaining most of her self-control, she said, "If I were you, I’d have cried ‘uncle’ twenty minutes ago."

"Like they would’ve let me off that easy," Di grumbled. She glared at St. Wolf again and begged, "Please tell me we’re done."

Amid more laughs, St. Wolf nodded. "You’ve paid your ‘dues,’ Di." When she growled a bit, he said, "Mr. Pierce, do you feel up to fighting a round with Kendra over quarterstaffs?"

"Probably not," the fighter said with a dry chuckle. "But I shall give it a go."

As Di limped back over to Sandra’s side, the teacher continued to laugh under her breath. "Oh, God, Spooky," she laughed, "they got us good. But you especially."

Di offhandedly said, "Sandy, just remember that I could easily remove any and all shields you have on with a snap of my fingers."

Sandy grinned and snapped back, "Yeah, right. You’d do that to me in *this* town? I don’t think so."

Sandra looked over as Faith and Shaw walked over to them. Her face became stern as she icily asked, "What do YOU two want?"

"Just wanted to see if she’s gonna be healthy for tomorrow," the Slayer said with a smirk.

Sandra glared at the two women. "Don’t get cocky, kids," she warned them. "I’m still thinking of giving you two enough extra credit assignments to last eight semesters for pulling this stunt."

"It was not our idea," Shaw said with a tiny smile. "This was Cassandra’s doing."

"How about the two of you lighting yourselves up like you did?" Di asked with a mock frown. She was being an especially good sport about this. "I was certain that the two of you were planning something big."

Faith grinned at her. "Well, Mizz Tregarde, if you weren’t so lit up, we wouldn’t have had to do it."

Di sighed in frustration. "If I hadn’t put protection spells on myself to ward off any vibes from the Hellmouth, they would’ve driven me crazy. So I hope you can understand my caution when you dropped those obscuring spells. That was clever."

"Thank you," the girls replied with smirks.

"Now," Sandra suggested, "how about the two of you explain to us how you got involved with hunting vampires?"

The juniors looked at each other. Faith shrugged and said, "You joined up first."

Shaw nodded and glanced at her Literature teacher. "Mrs. Livingston, you already know much of my history. The only thing that truly changes is my mother’s history. Her maiden name was Redstar, but she was an elven mage, not a Native American. As for myself, my Grandparents raised me until a vampire killed them. I wandered from place to place for many years before I ended up here in Sunnydale. Amy and I discovered our relationship, and since then much of what you know about me is accurate."

Sandra nodded thoughtfully; Shaw had been open about her past to those she trusted. The educator smiled and said, "What about the ‘powers’ that you described in your outline?"

Shaw’s mouth opened a bit, but she soon joined in Faith’s laughter. Ruefully, the young woman confessed, "I *am* a priestess of Mielikki and receive my spells from Her. I am also an animal empath."

"Any surprises on Steve’s level?" Di asked with a chuckle. "Relics, artifacts, what not?"

Shaw shrugged the question off. "No relics, only a twelve-century-old elven longsword forged to fight undead beings."

"Only," Di said with a roll of the eyes. "Right."

Faith pitched in, "And that thing about her being a blue blood is right, too."

When Di and Sandra’s eyebrows went up, the Bostonian grinned as her classmate clenched her jaw to stifle a scream of frustration over Faith’s seeming intention to tell everyone.

"Hey, Hunter, Xander and the Ball Buster already know," Faith reminded her. "No need to keep the secret. I’m just trying to paint the whole picture for ‘em. Your bio’s a lot flashier than mine."

Shaw crossly said, "This coming from someone whose ‘highlights’ include wrestling alligators and hunting vampires without any clothes on."

If Shaw’s intention was to embarrass Faith into keeping quiet, she was bound to be disappointed. She shrugged off Di and Sandra’s incredulous stares. "Hey, it was August, they woke me up, and the vamps were turning half the Baptists in South Boston into a smorgasbord. What’s a Slayer to do?"

Di looked at Sandra. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"What do you mean, you?" Sandra shot back "I’m the one who’s their teacher."

The practice session ended an hour later and everyone was relaxing after the hard workout. The fighters and observers were all sitting in Steve’s living room, discussing patrol schedules for the next two weeks, weekend activities, or generally mundane subjects.

Sandra came over to Giles and asked, "Rupert, I’ve been thinking about Steve’s offer. I want your opinion on it. What do you think?"

Giles took a drink of bottled water to buy time to consider an answer. He swallowed and said, "Well, Sandra, I do agree that we could always use capable researchers, especially if they are as qualified as Miss Tregarde claims you are. Steve was correct on one matter; while Jenny, Willow, Amy, Kendra, Shaw and myself are quite adept at research, we still have constraints on our time due to other training. In my opinion, the hard part would be ensuring your safety. If your association with us became known, I have no doubt your life might be in considerable danger."

"You sure don’t sugar coat it, do you Rupert?" Sandra muttered. She tossed aside some errant strands of hair. "But I’ve survived this long on the Hellmouth, so I think I can handle anything that comes my way." When Giles started to protest, she held up a hand. "Rupert, I have defensive shields all over me, courtesy of Di. They protect me from spells, demonic powers, and psionic intrusions. As for the vampires that live here, well, shields might not work, but other spells Di put on me years ago pretty much camouflage me from anything on certain strict liquid diets. That isn’t to say that I rely totally on them; I carry small vials of holy water with me at night." She flashed him a smile and said, "And Di can tell you this; I had the wickedest arm at shortstop on our college softball team."

Giles chuckled at the comment. "I see," he dryly admitted. "Whatever you decide, Sandra, we’ll always be willing to help you, should you ever need it."

"Thank you, Rupert," she replied. "I’ll keep that in mind when finals come around."

She walked away as he protested, "That’s not what kind of help I had in mind."

While Sandy and Giles discussed things, Jenny was engaging Diana in conversation.

"So," the computer teacher asked, "what are your impressions of our team?"

"They’re good kids," Di said right off the bat. She let her gaze sweep across the kids who were discussing weekend plans. "They’re skilled, they’ve got a wide range of talents between them, and they act professional when they have to. But that brings up our earlier question; when do they get to be kids?"

Jenny smiled, both at Di’s concern and at the fact that she had an answer to the question. "They get to be kids whenever they want to. It’s their choice to be here. When they’re not patrolling, they’re doing what kids their age do; go to the Bronze, the local kids club; the Mall; the theatre at the Mall; the Espresso Pump; or whatever activities they choose to participate in. While Steve, Giles and I often wish they’d choose to live a normal life, they’ve chosen to fight for a cause they’ve made their own."

"All of them?" Di asked skeptically.

Jenny’s smile faded a bit. She shook her head and told Di, "No, of course not. There are those who had their roles chosen for them. Buffy, Kendra, and Faith for example. Kendra’s a prime example; she was trained from her earliest years to prepare for being Called as the Slayer. It was what she was meant to do, so she didn’t choose to fight so much as she was Chosen to fight." The Amazon looked over Di’s shoulder. "Randi’s another example. She has two roles to play; raising her brother and wielding the Sword she was given. She’s never had a problem with the first task, but the second. . . it’s always left her a bit overwhelmed, even with Joan’s endorsement."

"I can imagine why," the witch confessed. Jenny watched as a wan smile emerged as she said, "Time was, I didn’t want to be a Guardian anymore, so I quit. At the time, I didn’t know that if you don’t occasionally use the power, it begins to leak out and become detectable. I had the bad luck of having a Nightflyer detecting my ‘leak.’ I barely survived the fight, and it took me years to get over the panic attacks that resulted from it. So I can understand both sides of the equation."

"You’re a wise one, Starchilde," Jenny said with a sly smile.

Di nodded before she caught up to the last word. When her eyes enlarged and she turned back to Jenny, the priestess couldn’t hold in her laughter.

"How did you know that name?" Diana hoarsely asked.

Jenny let her sweat for a few more seconds before she confessed. "The Starchilde is well known amongst my people, Diana Tregarde." Her eyes twinkling, she bowed and said, "Jenna Kalendish, at your service."

"Jesus Christ!" Di moaned in despair. "Let me guess; you have the cameras out here too?"

"Cassandra was very specific about getting as much as we could," Jenny admitted.

"I’m going to kill Cassie when I get back to New York!" she vowed. She looked to the Heavens and asked, "Any more bombshells?"

"Well," Jenny said with a grin, "we asked Artemis to come, but She had other business."

Di stared at her. "Artemis? Your Goddess, Artemis?"

"She enjoys visiting the members of the Virtual Amazon Nation," Jenny said with a nod of confirmation.

Di cocked her eyebrow. "You used that term earlier," she remembered. "What do you mean by ‘virtual?’"

"You’re very observant, Diana," the servant of the Huntress replied with approval. "It’s very simple. A couple of months ago, we Amazons took part in a pair of great battles. In the aftermath of the second battle, the Amazons in this room gathered with others of our sisters to discuss our future plans. Willow mentioned that she wished there were more Amazons across the Earth, to lessen the burden that we have in protecting our world. The world is a very large place, and even the most capable warriors can only do so much." Jenny paused to allow the information to process, then continued. "I brought up the point that between our duties, training, and our personal lives, we didn’t have the time to search for potential recruits who might be worthy of the Lady’s blessing. That was when Cordelia, in what she intended to be sarcasm, came up with a brilliant idea."

Looking over at Cordelia, who looked over at the mention of her name, Di asked, "What did you suggest?"

"I told them, ‘why don’t you two computer witches do your computer voodoo and track down the descendants of the last tribes of Amazons," the Prom Queen answered. "I didn’t mean they should actually do it, but they liked the idea."

"That we did," Jenny seconded. "It will no doubt be an exhaustive and lengthy process, but in time the daughters of the original Amazons will be reunited."

"Who do you plan on making your Queen?" Di asked curiously. She had a knowledge of how things had been done in the past, so she had an honest, harmless curiosity on how modern Amazons, especially American ones, might choose a Queen.

"Let me guess, Guardian," Jenny amusedly asked, "you’re wondering if we might elect a Queen, something of a contradiction in terms? In actuality, we already have our Queen. I hope you’ll understand if we keep her name private for now."

"No problem," Di assured her. She knew the answer was all that she would get. "I understand."

Sandra had silently walked up and listened in on the conversation. She idly asked, "Just out of curiosity, Jenny, how did you become a priestess of Artemis?"

"She thought I was best suited for the role," the computer teacher answered in full honesty.

"Wait, you’ve MET Artemis?" Sandra asked in disbelief. "You’ve actually met your Goddess?"

"Of course," Willow added, concurring with her fellow witch. "She enjoys visiting her Amazons."

"Do I dare ask what other Gods you’ve met?" Sandra asked, trying to be flippant with her friends.

"Hmmm," Willow said thoughtfully. The time she took to think about it made Di and Sandra feel dread that Willow thought that Sandy had been serious.

"I was just kidding," Sandy offered.

"Okay, I remember," Willow said dismissively. "We’ve met Artemis, Hercules, Aphrodite, Joan of Arc, Ares, he’s a jerk just like he is on TV, Xena, Hecate, Tyr, and Oberon."

Di glared at her old teammate. "You just had to open your mouth, didn’t you?"

"Shut up, Di," she moaned as the Amazons giggled.

*****

After taking some more time to get to know each other, Di and Sandra prepared to leave as Steve, Buffy, Randi, and Kendra made ready to show off their patrolling methods to Edwin and Jonathan Pierce.

As Willow and Faith escorted them to Sandra’s Grand Am, keeping an eye out for party crashers, the elder women discussed the events of the day.

"Well," Di asked with a grin, "what do you think?"

"It’s a lot to take in, Spooky," Sandy said, looking at the sidewalk. "I mean, I knew that things went on in this town. But now I’ve found out that people I teach and work with have been fighting the vampires for three years." She paused and looked up at the two girls with a look of admiration. "I feel like I should’ve been doing my part."

"Sandy, you did your part with the Spook Squad," Di reminded her. "That’s why they have the phrase, ‘the next generation.’"

Sandy grinned at her former leader. "You might be over the hill, Di, but I have a few good years left. And it isn’t the years, it’s the mileage."

"Which I have in abundance," Di chuckled. Her senses suddenly went into overdrive as she felt something that sent a chill down her spine. She called out, "Faith---"

"Yeah, yeah. Six of ‘em," the Slayer said as the number of vampires she’d called out exited the bushes forty yards away. She looked at Willow and asked, "Ready, Red?"

"Of course," Willow agreed, a gleam coming to her eye. She casually said, "The usual?"

Faith grinned, her eyes shining with battle lust. "Loser buys the espresso?"

"Agreed," the Wiccan said. "On three. One. . ."

"Two. . ." Faith added.

The Slayerettes shouted, "THREE!"

By now, the vampires, who were most likely out-of-towners since the locals knew that this neighborhood was a deathtrap, had realized that the four women weren’t going to run in fear and give them an exciting chase. When Faith charged them, they became confused; this wasn’t how the meat was supposed to react. Their distraction would be their undoing.

Faith reached under her coat and drew her sword, the blade of the 17th century rapier gleaming in the moonlight. She dashed forward, determined to take the vamps out as quickly as possible.

Before Faith closed half the distance to her quarry, Willow reached into her duster pocket and pulled out three slim wooden stakes. Casually, the redhead tossed the stakes into the air and concentrated. Rather than fall to the ground, the three stakes began to levitate. Willow narrowed her eyes in deeper concentration, and the stakes streaked toward the vampires at hurricane speed.

Three of the vampires vanished into bursts of ash that scattered in the April breeze.

"Damn it, Rosenburg!" Faith cried. "Stop cheating!"

She swung her sword and cleaved a neck from an undead being, sending her into the final death. The Slayer ran a second vamp through the heart as Willow drew her short sword and began running to join her friend. Before they could engage the final vampire, a bolt of pure magical energy shot into the final demon’s heart, making him literally explode in a cloud of dust and smoke.

"HEY!" the teenagers protested.

"Sorry," Di said with a tight voice, while Sandra just stared in open-jawed silence at the teens’ proficiency, "but I’m tired, I’m sore, and I have a ton of outlines to read."

"Okay, Teach," Faith said, giving Di the same ‘title’ she gave Sandra, "soon as you pay up for the espresso."

"I beg your pardon?" the Guardian asked. "Pay up?"

"Yeah, we had a bet," Willow interjected. "Whoever killed less vampires has to pay for the first round the next time we go to the Espresso Pump."

"But. . ."

"You butted in, that makes you part of the bet," Faith continued with an evil grin. "Red got three, I got two, and you only bagged one. You buy."

"Oh, no, you two," Di said in defiance. "If anyone should buy, it’s the one who didn’t get ANY vampires."

Faith and Willow looked at each other, then at Sandra with expectant grins.

The teacher said, "I don’t think so, kids."

"They did save our lives, Sandy," Di told her. "I can’t take six by myself."

"But. . ."

"It’s only fair. You’re with us, they had a bet," Di continued.

Sandra saw that she wasn’t going to win an argument with three fighters. "Fine!" she snapped. She took ten-dollar bill out of her purse and handed it to Willow. She glared at Faith and said, "I’ll remember this, Faith. And you should remember that Di and I have the fate of your character in *our* capable hands. If I were you, I’d pray that we don’t decide to edit the living Heck out of her."

Faith began stammering at the threat; she’d spent hours working on her character, and she was rightfully proud of it. "Y-y-you wouldn’t!"

"I’ll think about it," Sandra said with false sweetness dripping from her voice. "Ciao."

Faith just continued to stammer as the teacher and Guardian climbed into the Grand Am, having gained a small measure of satisfaction and revenge against the Slayer. She just watched them drive off as she said, "They wouldn’t."

"I wouldn’t worry about it," Willow offered. "They know you’re proud of that character."

"Easy for you to say," the Dark Slayer snapped. "You don’t have a grade riding on this!"

"No," the hacker admitted, "but they don’t know that we can have Cassandra send her copy of the tape to all of their friends."

"Riiiight," Faith said with evil glee returning. "Think Cass has names?"

"Let’s find out."

Faith and Willow turned to head back to the house in order to plan their insurance policy.

Part 3:  Reruns And Repeats

(Bad Guys Return, Amazons Make Matches, And Changing The Names To Protect The Innocent, Or At Least To Get An “A” In Lit Class)

Weatherly Park

Sunnydale, California

Late Hours

1 April 1999

   Alberrack the Black Mage watched the two heroes dance a ballet of death and destruction, in the midst of eight vampires they had ambushed, under the guise that the vampires were ambushing *them*.

   He kept a silent vigil, observing the fighting skills being demonstrated by the wielders of the Slayer Swords.  In less than two minutes, a sole undead was left standing and attempted to retreat.  A bullet to the back cut him down, fired by the man known to Mage and demon alike as the Wanderer.

  The Mage, under spells of invisibility and time phasing, sneered as the lovers embraced and shared a passionate kiss.  After releasing their lips, the Sword Bearers departed the area, chatting amicably.

  Alberrack shuddered.  <Two of the Swords of Destiny and a Guardian in the same town?>  The Mage folded his arms in the sleeves of his robe.  <The vampire was right.  This place would be a good place to try out my new spell.>

  The Mage waved a hand and teleported himself back to the abandoned factory being used by his small cabal.

  He solidified inside of a circle drawn for such purposes.  He mentally cancelled the spells that had hidden him from Merlin’s champion and surveyed the warehouse area.  The few apprentices in the room showed the slightest pause in their work before recognizing their superior.  He walked over to Silas, his second.  “Is the vampire still here?”

  Silas nodded.  “He is a strange one for the soulless breeds,” the junior Mage answered.  “Be cautious about him.”

  Alberrack’s jaw clenched, but Silas usually offered sound advice, when he offered it at all.  <He may be right.  I must be careful.>  “Yes.  I will.”

  Alberrack left to discuss the proposal laid out to him by the vampire calling himself Mr. Trick.

  Trick smiled as the leader of the group of Black Mages walked into what was once an office.  He extended a hand as a gesture of friendship.  “Master Alberrack, pleased to see you’re still in one piece.”

  The Mage simply stared at him until Trick retracted the hand, still smiling.  He decided to turn to his business proposition.  “So,” he started, “I take it you saw the people we’d like eliminated.  Now…”

  “Save your speech, vampire,” the Mage growled.  He started walking in a circle around Trick, trying to assert his supposed dominance.  His voice was calm as he spoke.  “You were correct, I will grant you that.  The Wanderer and this Slayer of his are a major threat, especially if they team with the Guardian.  At least, they are a threat to the likes of you.  I, for one, do not simply charge headlong into battle.”

  Trick shrugged.  “To each their own.  Now, what we’d like…”

  “Silence!”  Trick shut up.  The Mage stopped his circular pacing and faced Trick, who saw the ire in his eyes.  “I know that the two Sword wielders are but the leaders here.  Tell me; what other threats would we face?  I am told they have an army at their beck and call.”

  Trick hid a smile at the Mage’s intelligence sources.  <Now *this* Mage is more than a ‘kill them all just to be sure’ type.>  The vampire nodded as if impressed.  <Maybe a little.>  “Okay, Boss Mage.  We have a list of the folks who hang with the Wanderer on a nightly basis.  This way, you and your posse can take them out without any backup available.”

  The techno-vamp blinked when the Mage laughed at him.

  “You think this is a joke?” Trick asked, feeling a tad insulted.

  The Mage sighed. “Vampire, Krtog had the right idea last year, when he attacked the Wanderer en masse.  The mistakes were in how he did it.”

  “How’s that?” <He’s going to love hearing this.>
 

  Trick watched the Mage start pacing back and forth to put his thoughts in order.  Alberrack glanced at him.  “First of all, he used *new* vampires.  Strength in numbers means little if the numbers have not the skill to exploit the enemy’s lower numbers.  And second, he attacked the man in his own HOME!  Where he had all the items needed to destroy him!”  The two stared at each other.  The Mage told him, “When you fight an enemy, do so on ground of your own choosing.”

  “Bring him into your own backyard,” Trick guessed.

  The Mage let a grim smile touch his lips.  “Indeed.  Or at least, a ground I find preferable.”

  The vampire waited for the Mage to continue.  Alberrack idly said, “One good example is the war in Vietnam, where this country learned a hard lesson; you can’t defeat an enemy you can’t find.  Which is how your employer is operating, Trick; he wishes to use us to keep his own hands clean.”

  Trick couldn’t help but wince.  However, the impeccably dressed demon had a job to do.  “Well, my employer is a stickler for cleanliness.  Trust me.”

  The Mage ignored his attempt at levity.  He brusquely said, “As it so happens, vampire, our desires coincide.  Your contact in our group told you of the spell we have developed?”

  Trick nodded.  “That’s right.  Let’s just say it attracted our attention.”

  Alberrack frowned.  “I should kill him for leaking our secrets, but I have been hoping for such an opportunity to try this spell.”  He smiled thinly at the vampire, who returned it.  “I shall let him live for now.  But as for your proposition, I am open to it.”  The Mage folded his arms and paused in thought.  “We will pick a place that can serve as a summoning ground to perform the spell.  Once the demon is on this plane, I assume the Wanderer and his army will move to contain him.  When they are fully committed to their task, we will cast appropriate spells from hiding.”

  “And wipe out the heroes like Custer at the Little Big Horn,” Trick smiled.

  Again, the Mage surprised him.  “Hardly.  We do not possess the power to completely destroy this group in one fell swoop.”  Trick frowned, but Alberrack chuckled.  “But I think we can inflict enough damage to occupy their attention for some time.  And when they think we have plans to strike again, we wait.”

  “You’re going to wait?”

  “Why attack someone when they will be at their highest state of alert, when you can wait for their guard to go down and reduce the chances of dying along with them?”

  Trick tried for several seconds to overcome his surprise at this Mage’s state of mind.  <Whatever happened to the ‘mortals can’t touch this’ mentality Black Mages are famous for?  This guy actually thinks?>

  The evil wizard apparently guessed what he was thinking.  “It’s quite simple, my dear demon.  With the events of the last few months, I have learned caution.  Beyond strength in numbers, keeping a low profile helps keep me alive.”  He started to leave.  “Now if you will excuse me, I must go and oversee the preparations for summoning your demon.”

  Understanding the dismissal for what it was, Trick nodded cordially and walked out of the office.

  The limo pulled up as Trick stepped up to the curb.  The hip vampire pulled the door open, gracefully slid into the back seat, and pulled the door closed behind him.

  He smiled at the other passenger and asked, “Well, what do you think, big man?”

  The large demon scrunched into the limo growled, “Who is this human to say that I make mistakes?”

  The vampire glanced at the large-tusked brute’s hands as they clenched the shaft of his double-headed battleaxe.  “Someone who doesn’t automatically assume that the good guys are gonna go down like a set of bowling pins.  But you know you’re our ace in the hole.”

  “So you intend to allow this mortal to try his luck against the Wanderer and his group of children?”

  Trick nodded and smirked.  “And after doing whatever damage he and his Dark Toga Wearers manage to inflict on the Boy and Girl Scouts, you do a recon on them and do whatever you can to finish what the Mages start.”

  Krtog, Second Circle demon and Champion of the Armies of Hell, grinned at the impending chance for mayhem and revenge against the Sword Bearers.

  That grin chilled Trick, an impressive thing to do to a vampire.

************************************************

Livingston Residence

Sunnydale, California

Late hours

1 April 1999

  Di looked up from the synopsis she was reading to see how Sandra was doing on her batch.  As she’d half-expected, the Literature teacher was absently tapping her red ink pencil against her lips, a glazed look in her eyes.

  The Guardian cleared her throat, startling her friend.  “How about we take a break, Doc?” she asked with a grin.  “You look like you have a strong case of ‘Why-me-itis.’”

  Sandy dropped her pencil in disgust, probably from her inability to concentrate on her students’ papers.  She let her shoulders droop and said, “Yes, I do.”

  “At least you got off lightly,” Di chuckled, rubbing at “phantom” aches from her training session with the local vampire hunters.  “You did your share of laughing, so you have nothing to complain about.”

  “I didn’t say I was complaining, Di,” the chestnut-haired teacher groused with a sour tone, although a bit of mischief did light up her brown eyes.  She removed her reading glasses and set her current outline aside.  She focused on what she and the Guardian had learned.  “Since ‘retiring’ from the Spook Squad after graduation, divorcing my Doubting Thomas ex-husband, and returning home from the old teaching job in Milwaukee seven years ago, I haven’t done anything along the lines of the college days.  I knew there was something here, but I never did anything…”

  “Hold it right there, Sandy,” Di chided her, taking over the conversation.  “My spells and shields only go so far, as you well know.  And keep in mind that until I met Andre, *I* didn’t believe in vampires despite your arguments to the contrary.  And before you ask if I could have done anything about your little Hellmouth, the answer is no.”  Upon Sandra’s doubtful look, the witch groaned, “Gods, Sandy, I hope I never think I’m as good as YOU think I am!  Remember, my first forte is psionics, my second is witchcraft.  Dimensional barriers?  Please!”

  Sandra grinned weakly at her.  “Nice to know you’re still mortal like the rest of us, Spooky.”

  “Right,” she chuckled.  Di folded her hands and leaned forward.  “Now how about telling me what’s really got your conscience going, ‘shame, shame.’  Specifically, that your friends and students are on the front lines, literally.”

  Di watched her friend shiver at the thought of the kids fighting a nightly war, however qualified they were.  Her empathy was easily picking up the teacher’s guilt over not seeing it before, and her worry for her students.

  “Look, Doc,” Di offered to her, “you said it yourself; you’ve been retired for a long time.  And *I* wouldn’t expect the *kids* to be fighting.  Your teacher friends, maybe.  Especially the Calendar woman; Gypsies often take a dim view of supernatural evils.”  <Though more often to save their own skins.>

   “That’s just it, Spooky,” Sandra sighed, scooting her chair back and standing.  “Those kids are always spending time in the library.  Rupert’s personal domain.  But with that shithead Snyder always on their cases…”  She leaned over the table and shamefully said, “I have to wonder if the reason I didn’t put two and two together was because of being rusty, or if I was keeping my distance from them to cover my own ass.”

  “If this Principal is as bad as the other teachers I met claim,” Di told her with a shrug, “I don’t blame you.  But if you’d been fired, then your kids would’ve had someone like HIM to replace you.  And I know you’d never let that happen to your students.”

  Feeling some of her steel return, Sandy said, “Damn straight, Tregarde.”

  Glad that Sandy saw that much as truth, Di brought the subject back to where she thought it should be.  “Now, Sandy,” she nudged, “what do you think about St. Wolf’s offer?”

  “To me or you?”

  Di frowned at the noncommittal response.  “You, Livingston.  Like I told the Wanderer, I’m too old to be playing ‘save the world.’  It’s hard enough balancing my careers as it is.”  She snorted.  “Of course, I’m *not* turning down the phone numbers he offered me.  I never turn down free help anymore.  And imagine my surprise when I’ve heard some of the names before.”

  Sandra straightened up to work out some kinks in her back.  “Like who?”

  “Well, St. Wolf decided to be a smart ass and give me Cass’s number, which I already have,” she snorted.  “There’s also Egon Spengler, the parapsychologist.  Some of the other numbers I’ll have to look through.  So I’m happy; I have avenues to call for help from ‘specialists’ who do this for a living, rather than friends I can’t afford to lose.”

  Di watched Sandra walk into the kitchen without comment.  She heard a cupboard door open and close, some items jostling, and the microwave beeping.  The Guardian waited for her college friend to walk back out before saying anything.

  “What are you nuking?” she asked.

  Sandy grinned.  “Two bags of microwave popcorn.  I figured if we’re going to talk all night, we might as well have munchies.”

  Di’s face split into a grin.  “Sounds great.  You have anything to drink?”

  “I picked up some Pepsi and Coke,” she answered with her own smile.  “I remembered that you can’t function without some caffeine in your system.”

  “Smartass,” Di grumbled good-naturedly.  She looked back down at her half of the synopses.  “I’m about three-quarters of the way through with this batch.  I *am* impressed, by the way; only half of these are romances.”

  “I’m running at about one-third,” her friend countered.  “We’ll compare notes when we switch.”

  Di smiled again.  “Okay, now back to you.  What about the offer?”

  The bell or, more accurately, the microwave saved Sandra.  “Be right back,” she said before disappearing into the kitchen.

  The witch grumpily drummed her fingers on the table until Doc came back out, a bowl in each hand.  Di took one from her and waited for the teacher to take a seat, nibbling on a kernel the whole time.

   Sandra glanced at Di and her eyes just watched her.  The teacher finally sighed.  “I like the idea of helping out, Spooky, you know that.  What bugs me is the idea of not being active.  I just know my heart would stop every time I watched them walk out of my sight, wondering if I’d ever see them again.”  She picked up a handful of popcorn, became disgusted, and turned her hand over to let the corn drop back into the bowl.  “Right.  I have a little of that feeling every day when my kids walk out of class.  I know what’s out there…”

  “Maybe it’s a combination of that and your earlier feelings,” Di suggested to her confusion.  “I think what’s scaring you is one part knowing that these kids are on the front lines, and that you now realize that two of *your* kids, Faith and Shaw, are doing more than living in a vampire-infested town.  They’re actively working to make it Unvampire-infested.  Your ‘prize pupils,’ using your own words, Sandy dear.  I think *that’s* a big part of it, along with knowing your fellow teachers are joining them.  You’re afraid of getting even closer to them.”

  She sat quietly as she considered Di’s argument.  Di added, “For what it’s worth, I think your kids would love to have you ‘on the team,’ so to speak.  It’s obvious that they love your class.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Sandy seconded.  She was halfway convinced.  “I just think it’ll take some getting used to the fact that half of my top Lit team is a Vampire Slayer and an half-elven SAS noblewoman.”

  “Well, imagine how interesting that would look on a resume.  Teacher for champion of humanity and priestly pagan nobility,” Di adlibbed.

  Sandra groaned.  “Shut up Di!”

************************************************

Sunnydale High Library

Sunnydale, California

2 April 1999

  Faith chuckled at Shaw’s comment.  “Yeah, that would be worth it.  That is, *if* they believe you’re from a D&D world.”

  “True,” her pal said with a smile, “although I am surprised she did not put it together yesterday.”

  Glancing at the other junior, Faith grabbed her arm as they neared the library.  Shaw squinted in confusion.  “Okay, I know you, Redeye.  Mizz L had no prob with this, she looks like she’s dealing okay.  So what’s eating you?”

  Shaw shook her head.  “David and Jessica.  If Mrs. Livingston can accept this so easily…”

  “Uh-uh, sister.  Don’t even.”  She drew her hand, palm down, across her chest.  “I know it’s tempting, but if you tell them, they’ll wonder about all of us.  That’s not good for the team, Hunter.”

  Shaw shrugged.  “Wishful thinking, Faith, that is all it is.  You just made me think about it when you said they could deal…”

  Faith snickered at her trailing off.  “Use the Earth speak.  That’s my bud.”

  They shared a laugh as they headed towards the library.  Faith’s grin died when she saw the person peeking in the window of the library doors.  She nudged Shaw, who stared at the peeping tom.

  Shaw took in the short girl standing on her toes, trying to look into the library.  The young woman stood five-two, having wavy, shoulder length hair that was dark brown bordering on black.  She wore a basic shirt and jeans, coupled with worn Nike runners.  She knew that if the girl turned around, she’d see intelligent blue eyes and an inquisitive face.

  She smiled at Faith and pointed to herself.  Faith grinned and nodded back.  Shaw slowly snuck up behind the spying girl, using a lifetime’s worth of stealth to avoid making the slightest noise.

  Once she was less than a foot away from the oblivious girl, she said, “Hello, Alison.”

  “ACK!”

  Alison Jarman nearly jumped out of her skin at the accented greeting.  She whirled around, her eyes wide with surprise and guilt.  She backed up against the wall on reflex.  <Hello!  I LIVE in this town!  Of COURSE I jump when I’m scared!>  She stopped upon seeing Shaw and Faith Pryce, the semi-new girl, both standing there with laughter in their eyes.

  She grimaced at being caught.  <Oh God, what are they going to do?>  Alison knew a lot of what went on in Sunnydale, but usually went to the trouble to *avoid* what went on in Sunnydale.  Still, there were things that she couldn’t completely put her finger on.  <Like what you are, Hunter.  You’re not a human girl.  At least… not totally.>  She often wondered, because her covert research into Shaw’s past indicated that the junior she shared Ms. Calendar’s class with was just what she appeared to be; a seventeen-year-old Army brat.  <Right.  Try Special Forces brat.  And her Mom worked for MI6… God.  This Special Forces crap just runs in her family.>

  But that was before she’d seen Hunter fighting a pair of vampires threatening a kid out after dark one night, driving home from work.  She hadn’t recognized Shaw with those red eyes of hers, but she *had* recognized her voice.  She wasn’t human, but she DID share DNA with Amy; that much was public record in her school files.  But Amy was human, and Shaw *had* saved the kid that night, so she gave Shaw the benefit of the doubt.  <For now.  Besides, we’re actually almost friends in Computer Class.  I could use more pals.>  But she knew not to reveal *what* she knew, at least not until she had all the info.

  “Uh, hi, Shaw…”  <Wow, good comeback.>  “What’s up?”

  Shaw’s smile became mischievous.  “What are you doing?”

  “Uh well…”

  Faith just laughed silently from behind Hunter, who folded her arms and sighed.

  “How many, Alison?”

  That confused the blue-eyed senior.  “How many what?”

  “How many Tregarde novels are in your backpack?”

  Relief flooded through Alison’s body; they didn’t know!  But still, she blushed quite a bit over getting caught for her *real* reason for sneaking peeks into the library.  She sheepishly admitted, “Seven or eight.”

  Shaw sighed.  “I think she might be willing to autograph one, Alison.  She *is* supposed to be on vacation.”

  Alison beamed at what she knew Shaw was offering, but she still held back.  “Uhm, I don’t want to bug them.  They’re talking, and I don’t want them mad…”

  “Hunter, Mizz L said we couldn’t bring books in to get ‘em autographed,” Pryce reminded her.

  <Great!>

  Shaw grinned back at her.  “She said we could not bring OUR books to be autographed.  As it is, I already have Cassandra’s autograph on several of my Elven Bard series novels.”  She held a hand out to her.  “If you want, give me one and I will have it for you at Computer Class.”

  Alison blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly.  “Uh, okay.  Thanks.”  She reached into her pack and pulled out a random book.  <I don’t care *which* one I get signed, I just want her autograph!>  She gave Shaw a genuine smile.  “I owe you one, Hunter.”

  “I seem to recall saying the same thing after you helped me with my midterm programs,” Shaw shrugged.  “We will consider it even.”

  Taking on Shaw’s “businesslike” demeanor, the petite senior smiled back with gleaming eyes.  “Deal.  Thanks, Hunter.”

  She turned and left, wondering if she should show Harmony and the Popular Clique the novel after school.  They’d be SO jealous…

  Shaw waited until the senior was out of earshot.  She turned to Faith.  “You do not mind, do you?”

  “No big to me, Elfie.  Just hope you don’t get into trouble over that.”

  “Well, I like Alison.  If I had not been escorted by Xander my first day, who knows?  I might be ‘hanging’ with her instead of you.”

  “In yer dreams,” Faith chuckled.  “Girl’s like you though; needs to open up her inner runway model.”  She shrugged.  “Anyway, let’s get inside.  I want to talk to His Lordship about dealing with Wesley.”

  Shaw nodded, deciding not to bring up that she hadn’t referred to the Watcher as the Weasel.  <It is an improvement.  That is enough for now.>

  They walked into the library.  Faith’s grin widened at seeing what they already knew; Mizz Livingston and the Tregarde lady talking to Jenny and Giles.  As she and Shaw laid their books on the nearest table, she offered her own brand of “good morning.”  “Hey, Mrs. L and Mrs. T!  What brings you to where the books live?”

  It took a moment for her to recognize the less than happy looks on the old peoples’ faces.  She leaned into her partner.  “Why’m I getting a baaaaaaad feeling about this?”

  The half-elf sourly returned, “Because your street instincts are too Goddess-blasted efficient.”

  Faith sighed in agreement.  “Okay, what’s the deal, Teacher Dudettes?”

  Jenny was the one who voiced what was up.  “After learning the truth about you two yesterday, Sandra became slightly suspicious about your story outline,” she began.

  “I cannot believe you are going to base your story on the fight in Midkemia,” Giles added.  “And the characters…”

  “Now hold the phone, Alfred,” the Boston woman fired back, “we changed enough to make this legit.  Heck, Jess and Dave did more than their fair share of pitching in!  We followed Mizz L’s orders to the letter!”

  “Oh really?” their Lit teacher asked, sounding equally amused and ticked.  She pulled out a too-familiar binder and flipped through a couple of pages.  “The shape-shifting dragon?”

  “Fragnar,” J-Girl said with flashing eyes.

  The Slayer shrugged.  “Hey, Smoggy got taken by the Hobbit guy, Fraggle’s the only one left.  Besides, *we’re* gonna give him a fair shake.  No getting shot in the belly button by an arrow.”

  Miss Tregarde ran a finger while reading the screenplay over her best bud’s shoulder.  “The fairy?”

  Giles waved an arm at them.  “Obviously Robin.”

  “No, we are using the others’ reports on the Genie as the basis for that character,” Shaw said, taking that one.  “As Faith and I did not meet him, we can be more objective.  But as our story has a European flavor to it, we used a fairy rather than an Arabian character.”  She winced.  “Also, it prevents any chance of Robin adding Faith and I to his Shakespeare rants.”

  <Take *that*!> Faith snickered.  “Next?”

  “This legendary woman warrior?  I suppose you mean the Slayer?” Teach asked.  She grinned despite herself.  “Using yourself twice, Faith?”

  “Oh please!  When’s the last time you saw *me* carrying a Xena Frisbee?”

  She felt a rush of satisfaction over L and T’s sour looks at the mention of HER.  “Oh come on!  Give us *some* credit!  We’re not using Lucy, we’re using the real deal!”

  Jenny saw the Starchilde’s look become curious while Sandra’s became even sourer.  She decided to bring up the last “original supporting” characters.  “What about the vampire lovers?  I assume they’re based on Spike and Dru?”

  She watched Shaw glance at Faith and say, “It was your decision.”

  Faith grinned, looking quite pleased with herself.  “Okay, here’s the deal.  Since Dru’s too holy for my taste, especially as a vamp, we kinda decided to replace her with Will.  You know, the S&M Will!”

  Jenny felt her face blanche.  Glancing at Rupert, she saw his countenance turning positively green.  It reflected how she felt.  “You didn’t!”

  “She did,” Shaw countered.  “We felt her corset could easily be changed to leather armor for the story.  Also, she has more combat skills than Drusilla.”

  Faith enthusiastically added, “And those two together?  It’ll give the story a little more ‘oomph’ in the bedroom scenes.  You know what they say, Teach; sex sells!”

  Jenny heard her coworker mutter, “What did I do to deserve this?”

  The Amazon priestess glanced between the two dark-haired juniors.  “So the two of you think you’ve changed enough to keep anyone from figuring this out?”

  Faith grinned and drawled, “The names have been changed to protect the innocent.”

  “And Faith as well,” Shaw added.  She arched an eyebrow in her usual manner.  “But, if it will reassure you, I can add the disclaimer, ‘This story has been based on true events.’  Of course, we would then have to explain that to David and Jessica.”

  Di couldn’t help but laugh at Sandy’s groan.

  “Okay, fine!” Doc said with a glare.  “*You* get to grade their story exclusively!”

  “Because they’re obviously having a little too much fun with this?” she sweetly asked.  “Or because I’m the ‘sex writer?’  I don’t mind, it’s one less would-be-love-story for me to suffer through, laddy buck.”

  Sandy rolled her eyes and looked at her prize pupils.  “So David and Jessica do *not* know about you two?”

  The two girls shook their heads, but she felt the flash of longing from he other empath in the room.  <Ah.  Someone wishes they did know the truth.>  “Sandy, I don’t think the story will be a problem.  It’s obvious that they’ve taken precautions to avoid any problems.”  She flashed a grin Sandy’s way.  “Besides, if there’s a problem with their choice, you can help them work it off by assigning all kinds of extra credit assignments.”

  The Slayer jokingly said, “Great.  We get to choose between flunking or keeping the world from ending…”

  Di and Sandy shot glares at her.

  Shaw shook her head at Faith’s teasing.  She glanced at Jenny and Giles, who still looked quite dubious about all this.  She innocently asked, “So are you more upset about the fact that we are doing this, or that we are… ‘hogging’ all the glory for ourselves?”

  “Oh, believe me,” Giles said with disgust, “the fact that you are sparing us from your story is quite relieving, to say the least.”

  She shared a look with Faith.  Her fellow junior said, “Good.  Then we don’t have to fall back on storyline B.”

  Miss Tregarde asked, “And what was *that* story?  Assuming we don’t make you use it anyway?”

  Shaw gave her a smile while keeping half an eye on her mentors.  “A story in which a band of vampire hunters meet their doubles from an alternate reality and go there, seeing how their fight has been lost.  It sort of mixes the Terminator future with the Star Trek episode, ‘Mirror Mirror.’  And considering how much I dislike Star Trek, that should be saying something.”

  “GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Jenny groaned.  Shaw turned to see her trembling.  “You are NOT going to use THAT!”

  “Hey, at least then you guys’d get proper credit!” Faith said evilly, twisting the metaphorical dagger.  It was rare that she got the upper hand on the teachers.  “Me and Redeye here didn’t even get to go!”

  As they’d hoped, that made Mrs. Livingston ask, “What do you mean, you didn’t get to go?”  Her native intelligence rapidly caught up and her mouth dropped open.

  Sandra looked at Rupert.  “Are you saying…”  She shook her head and looked at Spooky, who was equally shocked, before turning back to the librarian.  “Is it too late to take back my ‘yes?’”

  He woodenly turned to her and forced a grim smile onto his face.  “Welcome to Hell, Sandra.”

  “Oh great.”

  Di said, “Remind me never to take a vacation here again, Sandy.”

  The romance author turned back to her temporary students.  “All right, you win.  But don’t pull any crazy stunts with it.  Try to keep it within the realm of reason.”  She paused and snapped, “And do NOT get any ideas about putting ME into it!”

  “Shucks,” Faith said with a snap of her fingers.  She glanced at her watch.  “Oh well, time to get ready for class.  C’mon Hunter, we got books to sort.”

  “True,” Shaw said, turning away before stopping.  She turned back to her.  “Miss Tregarde, could I ask for a favor of a personal nature?”

  Di cocked an eyebrow.  “I suppose so.  Does this have to do with writing?”

  The smile that lit up the half-elven girl’s face made Di smile back.  “Yes, I suppose it does.”  She walked over to her backpack and pulled something out.  When Di saw it clearly, she moaned.  “Do not think that this is for me, Miss Tregarde.  No offense, but I prefer Cassandra’s writing.”

  Di glared at her.  “Gee, thanks.”

  Her fellow Spook Squadder growled, “Shaw, I specifically said…”

  “That we could not bring in OUR Tregarde novels for autographs,” she repeated, stressing the word, “our.”  Her smile went from glad to mischievous.  “This is to pay back a friend for some help she gave me during midterm exams.  But be glad I cut her desires from eight novels to one.”

  Sandy’s teeth started gritting, but Di saw what was really happening here.  She chuckled, “Welcome to your new team, Doc.”

  “Shut up, Di!”  She growled, “Miss Hunter, this is the ONLY book I ever want to see within twenty feet of Diana.  Do you understand that?”

  In response, the junior glanced at her before looking around the library.  “Miss Tregarde?”

  “Fine!” Di groaned.  She reached into her purse to pull out a pen.  “Give me the damn novel.”  She clicked the pen and looked back at the grinning half-elf.  “I suppose I make it out to your ‘friend?’”

  She nodded.  “Her name is Alison Jarman.”

  Di felt the flash of emotion from Jenny Calendar and realized she knew who the girl was.  <I bet she’s going to be talked to later today…> Di grinned to herself.  “Okay, at least you told me the truth.”  She quickly wrote:

  To Alison Jarman:

    Thank you for enjoying my novels, and I hope you continue to enjoy them.  I can tell that you do, because the creases in the spine show me you actually read them rather than buy them to get them autographed.  Knowing that makes signing this a pleasure.

                                                                Best wishes,

                                                                Diana Tregarde

  She closed the book, which *had* been read quite often if the creases she’d mentioned were any indication.  <A real fan and not someone looking for advice on romance.>  She felt a glad rush at knowing she still entertained people rather than making everyone think she was Dr. Ruth.  <Great Jesus Cluny Frog, that is a *nasty* thought.>

  She handed the novel back to the waiting woman and said, “Make sure Jenny doesn’t give her too many assignments for this, okay?”

  “I will try.”

  “Oh really,” Jenny said, still sounding perturbed about the story and Shaw’s sneaking a novel in for someone else.  “And just how will you ensure that, Shaw?”

  Shaw glanced at Faith.  “Might as well, Hunter.  Give ‘em the bombshell.”

  “What bombshell?” Giles asked, rightfully wary.

  The priestess turned to her fellow Slayerettes and gave them her best Mona Lisa.  “I just thought you would like to know that you are going to be grandparents, after a fashion.”

  “What?” both teachers asked.

  “Let’s just say Redeye and me followed Wendy and CC’s examples and pulled off a great match,” Faith said with a devious snicker.  “Shows at least *someone* on this team can set up romances.”

  Jenny, rightfully suspecting a trap, looked between them.  “And just how will that make us ‘grandparents?’”

  “Well, when you consider who we hooked up together…” Faith trailed off, leaving the opening wide if they chose to take it.

  Giles, rightfully suspecting a trap, uneasily asked, “And just whom did the two of you ‘hook up?’”

  Shaw replaced the novel in her backpack and slung it over her shoulder.  “Do you remember two weeks ago, when Salem was all but ready to break your door down?”

  “Yes, we had to let him out and he was gone…”  Jenny’s face went pasty white.  “What did you DO?!?”

  Faith giggled.  “Let’s just say Salem’s gonna be a daddy.  You’re gonna have…”  Shaw felt her looking over.  “How many rugrats?”

  “Six,” she said, heading for the door with her friend.  “That is what Brenna’s telepathy and my own empathic sense indicate, anyway.  But we are not yet sure what the fraction of roses and cigars will be, as she is not due for several weeks.”

  “See ya, Grampaw and Grammaw!” Faith drawled as they departed.

  Giles and Jenny turned to look at each other, disbelief on their faces.  Jenny slowly said, “They… they…  wait a minute!  They’d need a witch to cast the spell to make Guardians able to breed.  They had to have a witch help them.”

  “I know it wasn’t you,” Giles told her, ignoring the looks of amusement on Sandra and Diana’s faces.  “And they wouldn’t have said anything about matchmaking if they hadn’t wanted us to bring it up to Amy and Cordelia, thus rubbing it in on them.”

 

  “Not their usual deviousness, I agree.”  Jenny’s jaw tightened.  “And they *knew* we’d figure that out.  That means…”

  “Willow,” they said at the same time.  Jenny rolled her eyes.  “I’m not falling into their trap, Rupert.  We’ll deal with our CAT and leave Willow alone.”

  “Agreed.”

  Di couldn’t help but admire those two kids.  She said, “You know, I think I might actually enjoy this vacation after all, Sandy.”  She glanced at the Gypsy woman.  “But what’s this about Amy and Cordelia matchmaking?”

  The two teachers exchanged sour looks before facing her again.  Jenny had a look that suggested to the Guardian that she had an idea of getting even with her students for getting her cat to… <Whatever.>  “That bad?”

  “Amy and Cordelia set Shaw up with a date during the winter,” the Romany said, shrugging.  “It didn’t turn out well.”

  “What happened?” Sandra asked curiously.  Di thought, <Too curiously.  She wants to get even with her kids WAY too much…>  “Was Shaw’s date *that* bad?”

  Giles sighed.  “He turned out to be the reincarnation of Jack the Ripper.”

  Di’s jaw dropped.  She was completely certain that Sandra’s did too.

  Sandy babbled, “H-h-her own cousin set her up w-w-with J-J-Jack the R-R-Ripper?!?  What the Hell happened?!?”

  “You might ask Faith, Sandra,” the Watcher said uneasily.  “I’m sure she’d love to give you the full details.  But now we need to head to our classes.”

  Giles and Jenny turned to head for their respective duties, leaving her and Sandy to stew over that until seventh hour.

  “Those kids are rubbing off on their teachers, Spooky,” Sandy noted with a grimace.

  Di turned back to her longtime friend.  “At least they’re giving us a chance to get back at them for the outline.  You game?”

  Sandy grinned sadistically.  “After yesterday?  Damn straight, Fearless.”

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