The Section Seven Chronicles

Heart of the Huntress

 

Written by Charlie Schone schone23666@yahoo.com

 

Edited by Jack Caynon.  NorJC@aol.com

 

 

Summary:  A novel set in the Slayerettes’ early days before they became Section Seven.

 

This story is rated for Mature Readers and depicts sexual situations, offensive language and graphic violence.

 

Disclaimers:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: All rights and properties belong to Joss Whedon, Fox Studios and Mutant Enemy, etc.

Highlander: All rights and properties belong to Rysher Entertainment.

The Legendary Adventures of Hercules/Xena-Warrior Princess: All rights and properties belong to Renaissance and Flat Earth Productions.

Charmed: All right and properties belong to Spelling Television and Paramount Pictures.

Bureau 13, Horace Gordon, Dimitri the Centaur, Edward Alvarez, and Team Tunafish are the property of Tri Tac Systems and Nick Pollotta.

The characters Thulsa Doom and the Serpent Men are the property of the late Robert E. Howard.

The Witches of New Salem are the property of Marvel Comics.

The characters Steven St. Wolf, the Knights of the Grail, and the Wandererverse are the property of Steve Pantovich.

The characters Rhiannon Cathcart, Edwin Giles and Patricia Driscoll are the property of Jack Caynon.

The characters Layla Constantin, Jericho Saito, Sergio Dominguez, Vladimir Petrovsky, Edward Trent, Alex Sinclair, Julian Stone, Hekhmut, Tex Boyd, the Disciples of Set, the Hell Riders, and the Sisterhood of Bast are the property of Charlie Schone and may be used only with my permission.

 

Any characters, whose names and descriptions are used, are the property of their original owners, and no copyright infringement is intended or meant.

No money can be made from this story. It may be distributed freely so long as it is kept in its entirety, with all notices and copyright information remaining intact.

 

Comments and criticisms are welcome AND HIGHLY ENCOURAGED! Please give me feedback (just try to keep it somewhat constructive,J), as this definitely helps everyone out, the author and the readers.

 

Special thanks to Jack, for being a terrific as well as a VERY patient editor and providing plenty of ideas and advice for this story, and for adding more to this story and making it even better. Thanks also to Tater (vegetables of the world unite!) and Mike Weyer, for taking the time out of their schedules to read over my stuff and provide good input.

 

I’d also like to thank several authors, past and present, whose stories have fascinated me, and, in their own way, inspired me when writing my own stories. They are (but certainly not limited to): Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Bram Stoker, Howard Phillips Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, Robert E. Howard, Stephen King, Ed Greenwood, Neil Gaiman, Mercedes Lackey, and Frank Miller.

 

Credit also goes to all the fanfiction writers out there in the Wandererverse and beyond, including Jack and the late Tim Knight, who gave me inspiration to write my own stories as well.

 

Also special thanks of course to Steve, for letting us play in the “Wandererverse”, as well as the other readers who provided feedback on my work, and last but not least, the creators of these characters we’ve grown to love, including Joss Whedon (whose talents brought these characters to life, however flawed some of his ideas may be...). 

 

Now, on with the show…

 

(Author’s Note: This story takes place about one month after the events of “The Immortal Man” and a few days before “Midnight Visitations”)

 

 

#######

 

 

Sunnydale High School

January, 1997 …

 

As Catherine Madison yelled, “Corsheth, take her!” the Slayer executed a standing hook kick, knocked the pole out from under the mirror and allowed it to drop in front of her to shield her.  Then the spell leapt from the witch’s hands only to be reflected by the mirror back at Catherine.  It enveloped her as she screamed, catching her up in the twisting energy that with a roar, disappeared, taking her with it.

Buffy then surveyed the scene to find a badly shaken Amy and her Watcher waking up from Catherine’s attack.

”Well…that was, um, interesting,” Giles observed.

Buffy helped him up and asked, “You guys okay?

After Amy said she was fine, Giles said, “I assume the, uh, all the spells are reversed. It was my first casting, so... I may have got it wrong.”

Beaming at him, Buffy gushed, “You saved my life! You were a god!”

 

 

Sunnydale High School

November, 1997…

 

Rupert Giles caught up to the slender woman who had started to climb the stairs.  “Jenny! Ah, Jenny…”

 

Jenny Calendar turned to face the English Librarian. “Rupert…hi.”  She was dressed very casual today.  She also looked very tired.  The Watcher cringed as he imagined just how distraught she was after being possessed by the demon Eyghon.

 

“I-I tried to call you last night…s-see how you were.”

 

“Yeah, I…I left my phone off the hook.”  The computer teacher took a deep breath, fidgeting uncomfortably.  “I seem to need a lot of sleep lately.”

 

Concern flashed in the eyes of the Watcher as he regarded the woman he loved.  “A-are you all right?  Is there anything you need?”

 

Jenny shook her head. “No, no I’m fine.”  She paused for a moment then continued.  “I mean, I’m not running around, wind-in-my-hair, the-hills-are-alive-with-the-sound-of-music fine, but…” She took another deep breath, trying to relax.  “I’m coping.”

 

“I would like to help.”

 

Jenny nodded sadly.  “I know.”

 

Giles fidgeted with the papers he held in his hands, his mind racing with what he wanted to say.  “Perhaps, um…we could talk sometime.  Uh, dinner…or a drink?  When you’re feeling stronger.”

 

The Technopagan gave Rupert a sad, uncertain smile.  “Sure, sometime.”

 

The Watcher attempted to reach out to Jenny, who quickly backed away.  “Yeah, sometime,” Jenny quietly added.  A range of emotions played briefly across her face, before she sighed and gestured above.  “I better get to class.”

 

Giles at that very moment felt as though something had struck him in the gut, hard.  He wanted to say more, but knew that it was useless.  “Yes…of course.”

 

The Watcher and the Technopagan looked at each other one last time, before Jenny turned and walked away…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heart of the Huntress

 

 

The Bronze

Sunnydale, California

April 29, 1998

18:50 PST

 

The Bronze nightclub, one of the prime hotspots for Sunnydale’s youth, bustled with activity on almost any given night of the week.  The club’s brightly lit dance floor was alive with teenagers and college students alike who danced and swayed to the techno music blaring from the overhead speakers, while the more dimly lit areas were congested with various cliques and couples, who shared gossip and kisses with drinks in hand.  Friendships were made and lost, hearts were broken, and people kissed and made up…

 

On this particular night, Buffy Summers, Steven St. Wolf, Xander Harris, Cordelia Chase, Amy Madison, Willow Rosenberg, and Oz Green were seated comfortably around a large table, nursing their drinks and chatting the night away, watching the flurry of student life swirl around them.

 

“So, Super-Soldier Man, enjoying what currently passes for Sunnydale’s Center of Coolness?” inquired Xander to the Immortal Wanderer St. Wolf, who in turn received a round of quizzical stares from everyone at the table.  “What?” he asked.

 

Buffy Summers, the Immortal Slayer, raised a questioning eyebrow at her friend.  “I thought you were the one that was supposed to be ‘Super-Soldier-Guy.’”

 

“Oh, please,” scoffed Cordelia Chase, “he’s more like ‘Super-Soldier-Wannabe.’”

 

“Hey!” Xander said indignantly to the Amazon beauty at his side, “at least I don’t spend an hour checking my nails after every fight!”

 

The lovely brunette shrugged.  “Well, even though we constantly battle the forces of Darkness, one still has to maintain a sense of decorum.”  Sunnydale’s self-proclaimed prom queen cast a critical eye at her boyfriend’s off-color wardrobe, comparing it to her own dark purple mini-skirted ensemble.  “Obviously, that’s something you still need to learn, Oh Lame One.”

 

“Xand, I have to agree with her on the decorum part,” Buffy added, smoothing a crease in the sleeveless white shirt that went with her own miniskirt and knee-high boots.  She’d overheard one of the boys snickering earlier that she and Cordy were playing another round of “who’s-most-likely-to-flash-a-glimpse-of-paradise.”  Buffy frowned at that.  Sometimes Slayer-hearing wasn’t such a cool thing to possess.

 

Xander just glared at his girlfriend.  “Idiot!”

 

“Moron!” Cordelia shot back.

 

“Loser!”

 

“Dweeb!”

 

“Bimbo!”

 

The brunette Amazon’s frown changed into a sensuous yet wicked smile as she stole a kiss from her boyfriend, to a chorus of sighs and eye-rolling from the other Slayerettes.  “Ahem,” Steve interjected himself, interrupting the two lovebirds.  “In response to your question, Xander, I’ve been here before, remember?  It’s…okay.”

 

“Okay?”  Buffy mouthed the word to the Wanderer.  “What do you mean by, ‘okay’?”

 

“I mean, well….” Steve fidgeted uncomfortably for a second, combing the fingers of his left hand through his short brown hair.  “I tend to frequent other types of clubs.”

 

“YES!” Xander exclaimed triumphantly, “I always knew underneath that professional exterior you were a strip club groupie, Steve!”

 

“Uuuuugh,” Amy Madison, the blonde Amazon witch everyone called “Sabrina” grunted.  The willowy girl clad in a blue leotard top with an attractive pair of leather pants grimaced in disgust at Xander’s comment. “Could you possibly be any more of a perv?”

 

“Shut up, Harris,” the Wanderer growled, “I don’t frequent strip clubs!  Well…not often,” he sheepishly admitted, which drew a deadly glare from the Slayer, “I just tend to more often frequent…honky-tonk clubs.  You know, country-music bars.”

 

“Eeeewww!” The Slayerettes exclaimed in unison.

 

“What the hell’s so wrong with country music?”

 

“Country music?” asked Willow Rosenberg, the Amazon Wicca, her pixyish face scrunched up in a quizzical expression hued by flaming red hair that matched her red camisole top and complemented her black leather pants.  “Isn’t that where they have guys decked out in Roy Rogers’ outfits constantly croon about pain and misery?”

 

“Actually, it’s more like music that drives you insane,” Oz Green, the taciturn werewolf muttered, shaking his head. His multi-colored clothing almost matched his own mop of infamous multi-colored hair.  “Dude, that’s definitely not my scene.”

 

“Well, Little-Miss-Likes-To-Fight,” Cordelia said, “guess that explains your boyfriend’s wardrobe.”

 

This time it was St. Wolf’s turn to look confused.  “What’s the matter with my wardrobe?”

 

Buffy Summers looked over her new boy-toy and cooed, “Well, I hate to agree with Queen C, but she’s got a point, sweetie.  Flannel shirts, jeans, and cowboy boots are SO passé. However,” she added with a wicked smirk, “I might be able to persuade you to allow me to take you to the mall sometime, get some clothes for ya that are more this century and all…”

 

The Immortal Demon Hunter shot an intimidating look at the Immortal Slayer, only to find that it had failed miserably as she continued to smirk at him.  Being dragged to the mall by the Chosen One on a shopping trip was NOT his idea of a good time.  He pinched the bridge of his nose and growled, “Is this why you asked me to come along, so you all could torture me all night?”

 

The blonde’s smirk broke into one of her irresistible thousand-watt grins.  “Got it in one, sweetie.”

 

“Don’t feel too bad, Steve, my man,” Xander offered in a show of support, “At least you’re old enough to drink manly beverages while we poor hormonal teenagers,” he held his soda drink up in the air, “are still doomed to drink what amounts to overpriced carbonated Kool-Aid.  But let’s not forget…while you’re older, at least you don’t look old and crinkly like Giles.”

 

“Excuse me?!” the Wanderer and the Slayer asked in unison, both of them shooting very cross looks at Xander.

 

“Hey, let’s face it; I’m not the only person who’s totally wigged that an awesome hottie like Ms. Calendar falls all over herself for an old guy like the G-Man.”  He continued, oblivious to the table’s occupants’ frantic glances over his shoulder and the unsubtle clearing of their throats. “I mean, he’s ancient enough to be somebody’s daddy!  What is it about chicks and old guys anyway?”

 

“Actually, Xander,” a familiar English accented voice with a hint of menace purred dangerously behind him, “I do believe it’s because ‘chicks,’ as you say, find older men to be far more intelligent and…mature.”

 

Xander turned around in his chair with an expression of dread on his face to find Rupert Giles, dressed in his usual tweed outfit, regarding him rather frostily.

 

“G-Man!”  Xander yelped.  The boy’s face instantly shifted to one that resembled that of a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching semi-trailer truck, “Uh, you’re here!” he squeaked.  “Er…I mean…here.”

 

 

“Yes Xander, I am,” the Watcher said, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he flashed a hint of “The Ripper” in his glare at the young boy.  “And again, I ask you not to call me that!”  Then his demeanor transformed into one that reminded Buffy of a cobra preparing to strike as he leaned over Xander and softly noted, “I see that you’re exhibiting your usual habit of allowing your mouth to race ahead of your reason.” 

 

The X-Man could only weakly laugh as he inwardly gulped.

 

At that moment, Buffy was impressed.  Wow, she mused, my Watcher really scared the crap out of Xander.  Man, for an old guy…he’s got it going on!

 

Then without missing a beat, Giles glanced over at his charge and flashed one of his special smiles meant only for her.  “Hello, Buffy.”

 

The Slayer beamed at her Watcher.  “Giles!  It’s so good to see you…er, I think.”  The Chosen One then frowned slightly.  “So what brings you here?  Another news flash about a prophesized end-of-the-world thingy, pending catastrophe, pre-ordained massacre, stuff like that?”  Her lips then curled up into a lovely smile.  “Or have you decided to emerge from that dusty, musty library and hang out with the rest of us?” 

 

“Oh, ahm, well, actually,” the Watcher stuttered, reverting back to his normal, librarian self.  “I-I’m here because…”

 

“He’s here because I was able to convince Rupert that it was okay to go out and experience something fun tonight,” purred a lyrical female voice.  Everyone looked to see Jenny Calendar, clad in a fashionable black leather trench coat that matched her raven hair, appear besides Giles with two bottles of beer in hand.   “Here you go, England,” she offered a bottle to Giles, who took it gratefully.  She turned to the assembled Slayerettes and smiled.  “Hi kids, what’s up?”

 

Willow smiled brightly at the Gypsy witch who had become her mentor.  “Hi, Jenny!  Nice to see you here!  So, you decided to come and hang out with us?  That’s so cool!”

 

“Well, actually, this,” she indicated with a sweep of her hand that held her bottle of beer, “was our second choice.  I was gonna take Rupert to a heavy metal concert but it was postponed.”

 

The  Slayer paused for a moment, considering that the words “heavy metal” and “Rupert” had been used together in the same sentence.  “A heavy metal concert, huh?  That would’ve been…interesting.”  Then she couldn’t help but cock a well-groomed eyebrow at the thought of Giles, clad in tweed, thrashing to heavy-metal music.

 

“Ah, yes,” Giles continued, “I’m sure it would have been, um, fascinating.”  He quickly took a sip of his beer and blushed slightly.  “Uh, can I offer any of you a drink…a-a latte perhaps, or….” He paused when he heard Jenny snicker next to him.  “What’s so amusing?”

 

“People don’t come to nightclubs to drink lattes, Rupert.”  She smiled coyly at him.  “They come to do fun stuff, like…”

 

“Like?”

 

“Dance.”

 

The Watcher paled at that word, and then out of the corner of his eye noticed the bemused expressions on the faces of the other Slayerettes and Steve.  “D-dance?  I…I…ah, Jenny, I’m really not that skilled of a, um, dancer...” The sound of a chicken squawk emanated from one of the Slayerettes.  Giles swiveled his head and glared at the table’s patrons, all of whom feigned innocence.

 

The gypsy smiled seductively at the Watcher and snuggled slightly closer.  “Dancing isn’t that hard, England,” she teased.   “You just move to the beat, that’s all.”

 

The Watcher gazed at the dark Amazon quizzically for a moment before he shifted his gaze to the dance floor, where a crowd of youths were busy gyrating to some indiscernible tune.  “And you call that dancing, I take it?”

 

Jenny shrugged in response.  “Actually, that’s a bit more like rave dancing…kinda like what they do at the Burning Man festival, although they do it in the nude.  At least, that’s how I do it,” she added casually to the wide-eyed stares of the Slayerettes and the Wanderer.  Meanwhile, Giles nearly choked on his beer.

 

As if on cue, the techno song finally came to an end and all the youths that had been dancing whooped and cheered.  The club deejay, a young man sporting a goatee, headphones and sunglasses, loaded a new CD onto his sound system and soon a slower, mellower tune began to play throughout the club as the lights dimmed.  The gypsy teacher’s face broke into an impish smile before she stood slightly back from the Watcher, placed her beer bottle on top of the table and slowly…deliberately untied the belt of her leather duster.  Moments later, she swept the coat off with a flourish…revealing a sight that instantly caused the Englishman’s eyes to widen along with those of the rest of the table’s patrons.

 

The dark Amazon was encased in a glossy black leather dress that left her arms and shoulders bare, showing off her perfectly tanned skin that shone in the dimmed lights of the club.  The dress clung to her body like a second skin, smoothly and perfectly, showing off her trim figure.  The garment terminated at the midpoint of her upper thighs, revealing her fabulous dancer’s legs, which rode on a pair of high-heeled shiny black stiletto pumps.

 

The boys, including Steven St. Wolf, could only gawk as their hormones, along with all their baser urges, had suddenly shifted into overdrive…something that did not go unnoticed by their respective dates and Amy.  Meanwhile, the teen-aged women could do nothing but stare and occasionally blink like a flock of owls. 

 

This was SO not the Jenny Calendar they’d come to know!

 

“I say…Jenny, um…th-that’s a…d-different look for you,” Giles stammered, struggling to hold onto his British reserve while being confronted by the lovely vision before him.

 

“Thank you,” she said softly, smiling.  With slow, catlike grace she sauntered toward the dance floor.  Then, as if an afterthought, Jenny coyly glanced over her shoulder at the librarian.  “Aren’t you coming?”

 

“If he isn’t,” Xander murmured under his breath, “I’m about to.”

 

Giles stood frozen, feeling like he had walked into a carefully laid trap, with the object of his desire holding out a perfectly manicured lure to him in a “come hither” gesture of temptation.  As he continued to stand there hesitantly, as if trying to decide whether to step forward or back, the gypsy derailed his train of thought by gliding her hand down the Watcher’s arm to intertwine her fingers with his.  Without further ado, the gypsy Amazon gently tugged her paramour toward the dance floor, where several young couples had already began to gently sway to the music.

 

#

 

When the computer teacher wrapped her arms possessively around the shoulders of her Watcher, Buffy felt a twinge of something in the pit of her stomach.  Was it jealousy?  Uh uh, no way…uh, maybe way, she thought, when she noticed that her beau was still staring open-mouthed at the form of Jenny Calendar pressing herself against Rupert Giles.  “Ahem,” she said, pretending to clear her throat rather loudly, “you’re not by chance trying to catch any flies, are you, Steve?”

 

St. Wolf blinked once, then twice before he turned his attention to his blonde companion and, after noticing her slightly annoyed expression, quickly shut his mouth, his cheeks turning a slight shade of red.  “Uh, sorry,” he stammered, “I just thought it was a little…unusual that Jenny was dressed like that and I was…uh…just wondering if she was okay…and….uhhhhh,” his voice trailed off.

 

Two can play at this game, Buffy thought.  She had decided she was also in the mood for a little dance with her new boyfriend.  She stood up and took his hand into hers, pulled him up onto his feet none too gently, and began a little stroll toward the dance floor.  Looking over her shoulder she asked, “Anyone else coming?”

 

“I…think everyone else here is A-okay for now, right guys?” Amy said, as she looked at her Amazon sisters and their respective boyfriends, and noticed that the boys were still staring open-mouthed at the form of Jenny Calendar swaying to the music.  “Uh, guys??”  The boys continued to gape…until their mates slapped them upside the head, hard.  As the boys yelped and rubbed their heads, Amy just sighed in resignation and muttered “Yeah, we’re just peachy.”

 

The Immortal Slayer simply shrugged and guided St. Wolf onto the dance floor.

 

#

 

After watching Buffy and Steve find a niche on the dance floor, Amy murmured to her friends in a concerned tone, “Say guys, just curious…has Jenny mentioned anything more to any of you about, well, ‘the incident?’” 

 

In the Slayerette lexicon, the “incident” referred to the time a month ago when the gypsy witch had been forced to defend Buffy from the gypsy Immortal Alexi Gregof.  Jenny had been forced to kill her clansman and her noble sacrifice resulted in her banishment from her clan. 

 

Both the brunette and redheaded Amazons shook their heads.

 

“No, she really hasn’t said that much about it, Amy…I guess you really can’t blame her if she doesn’t wanna talk about it,” Willow offered, her face slightly scrunched in a worried expression.   Although she and the other Amazons certainly felt Jenny had done the right thing and were firmly supportive of her, they also wondered how devastated she must have felt by having both to take the life of her cousin and lose her connection to her people.

 

“Well, if you ask me, Jenny’s better off without those losers.  I mean, HELLO!  Just what kind of morons place a curse on some guy and say, ‘Hey, let’s put in a clause saying that if he finds true happiness by boinking some poor unsuspecting schmoe, he presto-changes back into Psycho-Killer Guy as his punishment?!’  And just as an added bonus, let’s send out some homicidal sword guy after the unlucky tramp who happens to give him the ‘happy’ that breaks the curse!”

 

The little red witch cringed at Cordy’s diatribe.  “Buffy’s not a tramp, Chase!”

 

“Don’t get all wiggy on me, Rosenberg.  I didn’t mean Buffy particularly…I was just thinking about it from a global perspective.  Besides, not everything revolves around the Slayer, you know.  We were talking about Jenny!”

 

Although Willow narrowed her eyes and shot a look of annoyance at the brunette, she decided to let her issue about Buffy drop for now.  “Well, Jenny’s situation isn’t that simple, Cordelia.  I mean, she was really close to her clan and all, you know?  They were her family.  Now she doesn’t have that.  I don’t think having to kill her own cousin helped out anything much either.”

 

Queen C huffed and rested her elbows on the table.  “I know, Netgirl, I know.  Best we can do for her now is to be there for Jenny like the sisters we are, or are supposed to be, or…whatever,” she muttered, as she took another look at Jenny who was engaged in a slow, sensual dance with her enthralled librarian.  “She should be ready to go for the ritual thingy with Artemis we’ve got planned for Friday though, right?  Belfast, bedlam, bell…something.”

 

“Beltane, Cordelia, Beltane,” Amy chimed in patiently. “Celebrated May 1^st, sometimes referred to as May Day.”

 

“Pagan and Wiccan celebration of fertility and rebirth,” Willow added with a smirk.

 

The dark Amazon threw her hands up in the air in defeat.  “Okay, FINE!  Beltane, smeltane!  Excuse me for not being Little-Miss-Webster’s like you two geeks.”  Cordelia huffed once more before she flipped a few strands of her lovely chestnut hair over her left shoulder.  “But I thought Beltane, or whatever you call it, was more of a Pagan-ish than an Amazon-ish kind of thing.”

 

“Well, technically speaking the term is ‘Amazonian’, but as to the ritual…um…yeah,” Amy confirmed sheepishly.  “But since we’re still learning about Amazonian rituals and holidays, we figured in the meantime it wouldn’t hurt to do something like this for Artemis.   Hopefully she’ll like it, and this’ll be good for Jenny, too…I think.”

 

“I just really hope she’s okay.”

 

“Us too, Cordy,” Willow agreed as she and her Amazon sisters watched Jenny continue to dance sensually with her companion.   The redheaded Wicca noticed that Buffy, who was also out on the floor dancing with her beau, kept throwing sidelong glances at Jenny and Giles, as if she were spying on them.  What’s up with that?

 

Cordelia couldn’t help but smirk as she watched Giles attempt to sway to the music.  “You know, Giles at the Bronze, I’ve seen that before.  But Giles dancing at the Bronze?  Now that’s a first, right Xander?  Xand…?”  Cordelia turned to her boyfriend, who, along with Oz, was once again staring slack-jawed at the curvaceous, sensual form of Jenny Calendar swaying seductively to the beat of the music, her motions fluid and graceful, as she weaved a spell over her paramour.

 

“Damn, look at Jenny go,” Xander muttered, his eyes wide.  “Now I know how I must’ve looked when Buffy dirty-danced me at the beginning of the school year.”

 

“Yeah, man, for a teacher, she’s really hot,” Oz noted.

 

Both men were once again slapped upside their heads by their respective girlfriends even harder this time.

 

“Now would be a good time to stop drooling, Dweeb-boy!” Cordelia hissed dangerously to Xander, who gulped loudly.

 

#

 

Jenny Calendar moved with an uncanny grace as she allowed the music to guide her across the dance floor.  Every movement of her body reminded Giles of a seductive flame.  He continued to dance as well as he could, however clumsy he felt, to the mellow tune of the music as he continued to be mesmerized by the woman before him.

 

To Jenny, dancing was nothing short of a living art form, a true expression of one’s self.  Ever since she was a child, she had always been fascinated by the intricacies of dance, how each form painted a vivid, living tribute to human emotion.  Her thoughts drifted back to the first time she’d watched a gypsy dance.  She had been fascinated and enthralled by it, the way the dancers expressed themselves for everyone to see, and at the same time seduce all who watched them...including her.  It brought back even more memories regarding her clan, of those she’d once called family…but sadly, no longer. 

 

She was now mordu…an outcast.

 

The pain played briefly across her face before she could catch it.  She hoped that the dimly lit club would hide it from her lover, but when she looked up into the compassionate eyes of her fuddy-duddy librarian, she saw his concern for her plainly in them.

 

“Jenny…are you all right?”

 

She smiled earnestly at the Watcher as she felt the genuine warmth in his voice.  She often felt that Rupert never considered the fact that he was in many ways so unlike most of the other men she’d known in her life.  Oh sure, she mused, there’d been plenty of other guys she had dated before, some of whom were, for lack of a better word, “nice.” But none of them could have held a candle to the gallant and charming man who held her in his arms at that moment. 

 

“I’m fine, Rupert,” she said softly as she drew him closer, her body melding into his.  Giles felt her warmth flow through their connection, along with an electricity that aroused him.  He closed his eyes and deeply inhaled the scent of her perfume, a faint yet pleasant aroma that made him think of a cool, flower-speckled forest glade.  He almost shook his head in wonder at how this woman never ceased to fascinate him, especially now.  He could only marvel at what had compelled her to act like this tonight; was it a part of herself she had kept hidden from him…or was it…something else? Then she derailed his train of thought when she leaned her head against his chest, causing his momentary sense of worry to slip away, for the moment.

 

The mellow dance tune subtly shifted into another song, and soon the words from Lauren Christy’s “Walk this Earth Alone” began to play over the club’s sound system:

 

You're in the doors that keep revolving

The sirens that keep screaming

You're in the flashing of the headlights

The things that I'm believing

 

Jenny looked up again into the face of her companion and met his gaze…and then with a little smile, turned around and leaned her back into his chest.

 

You're in the water that I'm drinking

The sound of 911

The walls that protect me

From the damage that you've done

In this world you are with me

 

With her right hand she undid the knot that held her raven hair in place and allowed her tresses to fall like indigo waves across her shoulders.  As Giles continued to worship her with his eyes, she leaned her head back and subtly began to glide her body up and down his torso, her hands entwined with his own.  Feeling extremely aroused, the Watcher struggled to control the burning desire that he felt for this seductive creature.

 

But I walk this earth alone

And all I've ever known

Is you are right beside me

If I love you for a day

Then blow my life away

Could I leave you behind me?

 

“Rupert?” she whispered softly.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Do you still want me?”

 

Giles looked again at the woman he loved and stammered “I-I beg your p-pardon?”

 

You're in the crashing of the windows

The angels 'round the ceiling

You're in the fire in my belly

The fucked-up way I'm feeling

 

The dark gypsy turned around and looked earnestly at the man she loved more than anyone else in her life.  “I asked…do you still want me…in your life, even after everything that’s happened between us?”

 

The Englishman could only stare at the gypsy witch for a moment, as he struggled to find the words he longed to say.

 

You're in the warning on the table

The pills that disappear

The whines as I'm talking

The words you'll never hear

In this world you are with me.

 

“Jenny,” he whispered, “how could you ask me that, darling?  I…of course I want you…I need you.”  His voice cracked with emotion.  “I-I need you so very much.”

 

The dark Amazon smiled as she attempted to hold back her tears.  She tried to speak but couldn’t find the words.  Jenny felt a burning desire that had been building inside her during the last few days, a desire that was slowly forcing her to throw caution to the winds…

 

But I walk this earth alone

And all I've ever known

Is you are right beside me

If I love you for a day

Then blow my life away

Could I leave you behind me?

 

The Amazon’s sensuous face leaned closer to the Watcher’s own, her eyes narrowed to slits as their lips drew closer…

 

Could I leave you behind me?

 

“Buffy?  Oh…bloody hell.”

 

“Huh?”  Jenny opened her eyes and her mood was shattered.  She noticed that a perturbed Giles was looking over her shoulder.   She swiveled her head and saw Buffy with the Wanderer in tow behind her with serious expressions on both their faces.  “Buffy, what is it?”

 

The Slayer regarded her Watcher and the computer teacher momentarily before she responded.  “I think I just saw an old friend of ours walking out the back door.”

 

Giles got a blanched look on his face when he considered that the Slayer had used the term “old friend” in a not-so-friendly tone of voice. 

 

Jenny turned from the Watcher and sighed, muttering “Dammit, another fricking Tuesday night in Sunnydale.”

 

The quartet walked briskly over to the table where their friends sat and donned their coats, automatically checking to make sure the weapons they had hidden in their pockets were ready.

 

“Hey, what’s up?  You guys were all getting dirty dancy out there and now it’s all risky business?”  Xander noted.  “We were at least hoping you’d go for an encore before heading home to engage in the horizontal mambo…OW! Dammit, will you stop doing that?!” The X-Man howled as Cordelia, Willow and Amy kicked him in the shins, hard.  “What am I, your whipping boy?!”

 

Cordelia raised her perfectly manicured eyebrows and said sarcastically, “Wow!  Dweeb boy actually got something right for a change!”

 

Giles watched the antics between the teens and rolled his eyes.  “Ah, yes, ‘the future of America’…I pity this poor nation,” he muttered in resignation.

 

“Buffy?”  Willow asked, a worried expression dawning on her pixie-like face.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“Just saw something that I think we’d better check out,” Buffy said, her usual flippant tone long gone.  As the rest of the gang at the table moved to get up, Buffy shook her head.  “No, just wait here, ‘kay?  Keep an eye on things ‘till we get back.”

 

Oz simply shrugged.  “No problem, Buffy.”

 

“Sure thing,” Xander piped up, throwing a mock salute, “and in case something happens and you die for good, we’ll be sure to notify your Mom.” Suddenly, the young man noticed a round of evil glares from the Slayerettes.  “What?  Why can’t anyone appreciate my sense of humor?”

 

Leaving the rest of their team behind, Buffy, Steve, Jenny, and Giles had almost reached the exit door in pursuit of their quarry when the quartet ran across a young, curvaceous teenaged girl clad in a tight-fitting turtleneck, miniskirt and boots with long raven hair that came all the way down to her shapely behind. Standing next to her was a young, darkly handsome Hispanic teenage boy wearing casual evening clothes.

 

“Oh, uhh, hey Patty, Sergio,” Buffy blurted out to the young couple recognized as two of the few people outside the Scooby gang she considered as friends.

 

“Whoa, hey, Buffy! What’s up?”  Patricia Driscoll queried, an earnest smile illuminating her pretty face.  Next to her, Sergio Dominguez casually waved and offered a smile of his own…before his eyes grew round at the sight of Ms. Calendar in her evening dress, which was clearly visible beneath the open jacket she had donned. 

 

“Madre de Dios,” Sergio muttered in awe, slack-jawed at the sight of the curvaceous computer teacher, before mentally slapping himself back to reality and hoping Patty hadn’t noticed. 

 

“Hey, Patty…uh, sorry to cut and run so soon, but I gotta go, it’s an…” The Slayer fumbled with what she wanted to say.  “It’s an emergency.”

 

“Another emergency?”  Patty sighed.  “Again?  But you said…”

 

“I know, Patty, I know…and I’m sorry, really, but I gotta go,” the Slayer said, cringing inwardly.  She hated this part of the Slayer gig, always having to come up with lame excuses to fend off people who wouldn’t, couldn’t know or understand the horrors she and her friends faced on a daily basis. “Uhhh, make it up to you later?”

 

“Okay, yeah, sure,” Patty’s face fell slightly, muttering.  “Later.”

 

The Slayer looked like she wanted to say more, before St. Wolf cleared his throat and nodded toward the exit.  After shooting him a glare, the Slayer excused herself and headed toward the door with her three companions in tow.

 

“Man, what’s that all about?”  Sergio asked.  The Puerto Rican and former Bronx native had heard some weird tales about Sunnydale, things that made the crap he’d seen and heard back in New York sound tame in comparison. However, the oddest thing to him as of late was Buffy Summers and her friends.  As much as he hated to admit it, as he considered them to be a cool bunch, he had heard some awfully strange rumors about them as of late…

 

Patty just shrugged and shook her head.  “Who knows?”  She spied the rest of the gang over by the table.  “There’s some more of her group.  Let’s go say hello.”  After the pair approached the Slayerettes’ table, Patty chirped, “Hey, guys!  What’s up?”

 

“Hey, girlfriend!” Amy yelled over the music.

 

“Hi, Patty,” Willow said with a winsome smile.  “Hello, Sergio.”

 

“Sergio!”  Xander called out to his new bud.  “Urge to Serge!  How’s it hangin’, man?”

 

“Hey, Xander…Oz.”  Sergio said, before he regarded Cordelia, Amy and Willow and sighed wistfully.  His cheeks flushed as he smiled shyly at the trio of beautiful girls.  “Hola, senoritas.  Que pasa?”

 

Amy waved.  “Not bad Sergio, not bad.”  She noticed the rest of her Amazon sisters were also smiling at the darkly handsome youth.  Although none of the Amazons considered Sergio to be anything more than a friend, mostly because he seemed to be interested in Patty, they all thought he had a hunky, Ricky-Martin-look to him.  In fact, Amy mused silently, if Patty hadn’t already taken an interest in Sergio, she’d do him.  Then she inwardly groaned at her horny thoughts and muttered under her breath, “For Goddess’ sakes, I’ve got to hurry and find a hunk of salty goodness of my damn own!”

 

“Sooo, what’s up with Buffy and her guy?”  Patty asked.  “And what’s with Ms. Calendar and Mr. Giles?  I didn’t think they hung out at the Bronze.”

 

“Oh…” Willow furrowed her brow in thought for a moment before she answered their friend.  “Giles and Jenny just wanted to get in touch with their inner adolescent selves, so they decided to come here.  Buffy and Steve were out dancing earlier, but they had to leave…they had to, uhhh…”

 

“Get a cat out of a tree,” Xander interjected, before suddenly feeling rather lame.  He noticed Amy and Cordelia out of the corner of his eye pinching the bridge of their noses in resignation.

 

“Right…so…basically all four of them left to take care of an emergency…which is to remove a cat from someone’s tree?”  Patty drawled and looked thoroughly unconvinced.  “Sure…whatever.”

 

#

 

The Slayer shoved the handlebar on the rear exit door and stepped out into a narrow alleyway cross-junction followed by her Watcher, the Wanderer, and the Amazon gypsy.  A light rain had recently fallen and thunder could still be heard rumbling overhead.  Pools of water congealed on the slick wet pavement as Buffy the Vampire Slayer stood in the middle of the alleyway and faced north, while her companions took flanking positions next to her and looked south, east and west. 

 

Not a thing appeared to be stirring, except for a stray cat poking through a dumpster.

 

“Buffy, are you quite sure you saw something?”

 

The little blonde regarded her Watcher and frowned slightly.  If she didn’t know better, he seemed slightly miffed that he and Ms. Calendar had been interrupted before having their little smooch.  Well, duh!  However, the fact that she had interrupted them before they could complete the dirty deed felt oddly comforting to Buffy.  Instantly, she shoved that notion aside and experienced a little twinge of guilt.  Why the hell would I want to feel that way?!   Then she shook her head to clear her mind and said, “Well, unless my spidey sense is on the fritz, I’m pretty sure I know what I saw.  Actually, scratch that, I’m definitely sure of it now…it’s Lyle Gorch.”

 

The Watcher blinked.  “Lyle Gorch.  Ah, yes…one of the Gorch brothers you faced several months ago, the vampire you didn’t slay?  You’re certain?”

 

She narrowed her eyes at her Watcher.  “Thanks for rubbing it in, Recap Guy, and yeah, I’m certain…mainly because he’s standing right behind you, Mr. Smarty-Pants.”

 

The librarian whirled to find a tall, mustachioed figure dressed in a tan duster and a cowboy hat that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere just a short distance away.  The man had a cocky smirk on his face and a gleam in his eye that clearly spelled “trouble.”  On either side of him were several vampires in game face, also dressed in cowboy-style attire and grinning humorlessly.  To the Slayer and her Watcher, the lead vampire’s features were unmistakable…

 

“Evenin’ there, sugar lips…miss me?”  Lyle Gorch drawled in a menacing tone.  Or at least, he seemed to be trying to sound menacing as he glared at the Slayer and her companions, who had now slightly shifted their positions to provide one another cover.

 

“Oh, PUH-lease,” Buffy drawled, “you come crawling back to Sunnydale and the only thing you can come up with is ‘sugar-lips’?  I’ve heard better pick-up lines from the pizza boy.”  She then threw him a mock pout. “Oh, and your poor excuses for cowboy henchmen should know that the circus won’t be in town for months, so we aren’t auditioning for clowns at the moment…sorry.”

 

“Watch your pretty little mouth there, Slayer,” Lyle growled.  “This posse’s with me.”  The vampire reared himself up proudly with his thumbs casually hooked in his belt.  “We’re the Hell Riders, and we’re here to raise all sorts of—“

 

“Wait!” the Slayer snapped, interrupting the vampire.  “Don’t tell me!  Let me guess… you’re looking to raise all sorts of…gee, I hope my ‘maw’ don’t go and wash my mouth out with soap for saying this…H-E-double toothpicks?” she drawled in a mock Ozark accent all the while regarding him with a bemused smile on her face.

 

Thrown by her sarcasm, the vampire gave her a confused look for a moment.  “Er…um…yeah?”  Then, apparently realizing the Slayer was taunting him, Gorch sneered angrily at the diminutive girl.  “Yes, indeedy, little lady!  We’re gonna raise all kinds of hell in this here little town!”  The other vampires chuckled in agreement as they began to stride forward slowly and purposefully toward the four assembled warriors.

 

“Hell Riders,” Giles whispered, recognizing the name.  He exchanged a quick look with St. Wolf, who nodded grimly. 

 

“Poor Marty Robbins must be rolling over in his grave right now,” the Wanderer said, then sighed.  He knew the name too.

 

Jenny cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.   “Hell Riders? Oh really, that’s what you call yourselves?  I thought it was Captain Cowpoke and the Buckskin Brigade.”

 

Lyle stopped and his features instantly shifted into his game face with a snarl.  “Who the Hell are you callin’ a ‘cowpoke,’ missy?!  Get ‘em, boys!!”  With that, the four vampires flanking him on either side whooped, “Yee-haw!!” and rushed toward the Slayer and her companions.

 

“Oh brother,” Buffy sighed as she faced one of the vamps.  Just as the vamp came within striking range, the Slayer whipped out a finely-carved oak dagger and gave it an easy twirl in her hand before flinging it straight and true into the vampire’s chest, causing the assailant to gasp and clutch the dagger as it was sent flying backwards before being reduced to ashes.  Out of the corner of her eye she witnessed her beau pull out his mystical sword Demon Slayer and, with practiced ease, swung the katana in a graceful horizontal arc, slicing the vampire that had rushed him in half, causing it to disintegrate.

 

On her other side, the Watcher drew his Glock 26 pistol with a threaded suppressor and fired twice, sending a blessed silver 9mm round followed by a compressed wooden one speeding into the night.  Both bullets penetrated one of the creature’s chest and reduced it to ashes.  On Giles’ left, the Amazon witch narrowed her eyes and quickly chanted lowly.  Eldritch fire glowed and swirled in her dark eyes before twin Levin energy bolts fired from them like Superman’s heat vision, striking the fourth vampire directly in the head and destroying it, causing a larger than normal cloud of ash to scatter everywhere.

 

As if on cue, the Slayer piped up in a mock sports announcer’s voice and said, “Well, sports fans, it’s four to nothing with the Slayer’s team in the lead!  Golly gee willikers, I wonder what Lyle’s thinking just as he’s about to kiss his ass goodbye!”  However, much to the Slayer’s disappointment, it seemed Lyle Gorch had once again run off and vanished, leaving her to pout prettily.  “I just hate it when they cut and run.”

 

#

 

 

After the Immortal Slayer and her friends had sent the wannabe cowboy vampires to Dustland, minus the elusive vampire Lyle Gorch, they regrouped inside the Bronze with the rest of the Scooby Gang.  Although they didn’t believe the return of Lyle Gorch constituted an Apocalyptic-type scenario, the fact that he wasn’t alone bothered Giles.  St. Wolf also agreed with the Watcher.  He’d had a few run-ins with this particular vampire pack before.  He knew there were definitely more of them, and despite the ease with which they had dispatched several of them earlier, handling them en masse wouldn’t be a piece of cake. 

 

After much discussion, it was decided that Buffy along with St. Wolf, Willow, Oz, Xander, Cordelia, and Amy would patrol the streets of Sunnydale tonight for any signs of the vampire pack, as well as stop by Willy the Snitch’s bar for a little “chat” to see if the weasel-faced owner had any news about their new arrivals.  While the gang patrolled, Giles and Jenny would go to the Sunnydale High School library and do some additional research on the Hell Riders.

 

Or at least, that’s what the librarian and the gypsy claimed they planned to do…

 

#

 

Pistyll Rhaeadr

A waterfall situated a few miles west of Llanrhaeadr-ym-Mochnant, Wales.

00:05 Local Time

 

In the shadows of the lush, gently rolling steppes of the Berwyn Mountains, sat a secluded waterfall called Pistyll Rhaeadr.  Known by the locals as one of the Seven Wonders of Wales, it was regarded as one of the highest and most beautiful waterfalls in the land.  On this particular spring night, the wind gently sang amongst the blooming trees as water from the falls flowed freely down amidst the worn rocks, splashing gracefully into several steppes before finally gathering into the large pool nestled at the bottom of the falls. The occasional sounds of nocturnal wildlife carried along the gentle breezes along with the splashing and bubbling of the pristine water.  Overhead, the clouds had parted to reveal a moon that was not completely full, yet bright enough to reveal a lone figure, a woman who gently bathed at the base of the falls. 

 

She rose from the water, ethereal, allowing rivulets of water to trail sensually down around her lovely breasts and fair skin.  Her tall, trim figure contrasted against the waters that mirrored the light of the moon, highlighting her lush curves.  She closed her eyes momentarily as she slicked back her wet, honey-blonde hair away from her perfect heart-shaped face and full red lips.  She continued to stand there for a moment with her eyes closed, paying no heed to the chilly night as the moonlight continued to illuminate her achingly stunning face and form.

 

While the opulent waterfall and its surroundings were considered to be one of the most beautiful sights in Wales, they paled in comparison to the radiant beauty of the lady, a legendary creature who was so lovely that any mortal man would swear upon his grave that she was the most beautiful woman in existence…

 

“Lady Rhiannon?”

 

The woman, or rather, the deity known to many as the Welsh and Celtic Goddess of the Moon and Magic, the Sorceress Supreme herself, opened her eyes, revealing two beautiful witch-green orbs that shimmered like emeralds as she turned to regard the source of the voice. By the water’s edge, a tall, magnificent white steed stood regally with its head bowed respectfully.

 

“Aeddan,” she acknowledged softly, in a lilting voice that carried like the tinkling of the waters around her.

 

The tall, pale horse raised its head slowly before it spoke again, its voice deep, yet distinctly human-like. “Please accept my humble apologies for this intrusion, Lady Goddess.  Artemis, daughter of Zeus and the Greek Goddess of the Hunt, is here and seeks an audience with you.”

 

Rhiannon smiled warmly at Aeddan and nodded.  “Excellent.  Please show her in, Aeddan.”

 

The steed bowed again.  “By your command, my Lady.”  The horse turned and quietly trotted away, while Rhiannon stepped from the water onto the rocky edge of the pool, completely nude as the cool liquid continued to gently run down and away from her long hair and her magnificent body.  The Goddess of Magic raised her hands and summoned a miniature gale of wind that cloaked around her body and whipped through her hair, drying away the last remnants of water.  Moments later, the Goddess made a slight gesture with her hands and allowed the air around her to grow still.  Rhiannon then looked up to the tops of the gently swaying trees, from whence a small chorus of birds began to gently chirp and sing.  Soon, out of the treetops descended three magnificent birds…one emerald green, one gold and one snow white.  Two of the birds gently held a long, shimmering gown that was composed of ethereal golden lace in their beaks, while the third clutched a shimmering jewel in its small claws.

 

The Goddess smiled a greeting to her winged friends as they gently lowered the gown around her like a sheer veil, until it draped her form as the other bird gently came down and nestled the jewel into her hand.  The Goddess then wrapped the ethereal, shimmering gown around her body, the light of the moon turning it nearly transparent and revealing her incredible figure, before she took the jewel that the bird offered her and gently mounted it on her forehead.  Their tasks complete, the green and gold birds fluttered their wings before taking a seat on her shoulders, while the white bird gently nestled itself in her honey blonde hair.

 

“You keep excellent company, sister.  I am certain my forest friends could learn many things from yours,” a husky yet gentle voice spoke.

 

The Sorceress Supreme turned to find Artemis, the Greek Goddess of the Hunt and Moon, standing before her.  The Olympian had her trusty bow at her side and was dressed in her ornamental hunting leathers.  The moonlight seemed to radiate around her beautiful chestnut hair and her strong, yet supple curves as well.  The two Goddesses took several steps toward each other before reaching out and embracing in a sisterly hug.

 

“Thank you for coming, Arty,” Rhiannon spoke softly.

 

“It was my pleasure, Rhi.”  Artemis pulled back slightly and brought up a hand to caress Rhiannon’s cheek.  The Goddess of the Hunt nodded in greeting to the three birds that nestled on Rhiannon’s head and shoulders, the birds quietly chirping their own greeting in reply, before becoming still again.  “How are you, sister?”

 

Rhiannon smiled earnestly at Artemis, although there seemed to be a hint of sorrow and pain that manifested in her youthful-looking, yet ancient eyes.  “I’m well, Arty.  Actually…as well as I could be, I suppose.  I just wanted to come here for a little while, and relive some old memories.  Jonathan and I…we’d used to come here often, alone at night, just the two of us.”  The Goddess’s lovely face became sorrowful as her emerald orbs turned slightly moist.

 

Artemis drew her into another embrace, this one tighter than before.  “I’m so sorry, Rhi,” she said gently as she brought up her hand again to wipe a tear that trickled down Rhiannon’s cheek.  “I only wish there was something I could have done.  I just wish it wasn’t always like this…for them, or us.”

 

After Artemis let go of Rhiannon, the Welsh Goddess nodded sadly and wiped her eyes.  “I know, Arty.  Thank you all the same.  But perhaps, at least, that may change, at least in regards to the young women whose fates bring us here tonight.”

 

Artemis nodded. “Yes, indeed.  The time has certainly come, has it not?”

 

“Yes…it will be a long journey, sister.  You and I have spoken to our fellow moon sisters as well as some of the other gods, including a messenger from the Lord of All.  It is decreed, our wait is over…it begins tonight.”

 

The Goddess of the Hunt pursed her lips in thought.  “It will not be an easy journey, sister, either for them, for us, or our sisters.  There are many other forces at work now who will eventually realize, or are already beginning to sense, the potential that our Chosen possess.  They will undoubtedly try any means necessary to either gain complete control of them or kill them.”  The face of the Greek Goddess grew hard and determined.  “And neither we nor they can allow that to happen.”

 

“I know,” Rhiannon whispered.  “I recently spoke with Freyja, who had an audience with Odin.  It appears the One-Eyed God had a vision of the future…a most terrible vision, if our girls should fail.”  The beautiful goddess shuddered.  “I…can’t even describe it.”

 

Artemis nodded grimly. “Indeed.  I recently spoke with the Oracles myself.  They have spoken of similar dire warnings, should our Chosen fail in the long journey before them.  That is why time is indeed of the essence.  We must act now.”

 

Rhiannon nodded and turned to regard a cluster of numerous beings that had emerged from the shadows of the forest.  Creatures of the day and night, forest spirits, winged sprites, elves, and even a few dwarves had all come from out of hiding to bid farewell and good journey to the Welsh Goddess and her sister, as well as her white steed and her avian companions.  One of the winged fairies of the forest strode out in front of the assembled group and bowed deeply before the Goddess.

 

“Good journey, Lady Goddess,” she spoke in a soft lilting voice.  “Please come back and visit again soon.  These lands are not the same without you.”

 

Rhiannon smiled sadly yet earnestly at all the assembled faces, before walking up to gently embrace the fairy.  “Thank you, Hywela, and thank you all. Remember however, that I am always here.  If ever you need my audience or aid, simply call out my name, and I will answer.”  With that, the Welsh Goddess released Hywela, turned toward her sister, and strode over to Artemis with the steed and the three birds in tow.  The two Goddesses turned and raised their faces and arms to the eternal moon high in the sky.  Soon, their forms became ethereal as they merged with the light of the moon and vanished altogether.

 

For a moment the assembled spirits of the forest quietly regarded the spot where the two Goddesses had stood, before they silently merged back into the shadows of the forest.  Soon, there was nothing at all except the gentle wind swaying through the trees and the churning, bubbling waters of Pistyll Rhaeadr.

 

#

 

Sunnydale High School Library

Sunnydale, California

19:25 PST

 

“England?”  The lilting voice of Jenny Calendar caught the Watcher’s attention.  Giles looked up from the well-worn text on vampires he studied to gaze at the computer teacher.  Her face wore an amused smirk as she typed on the keyboard connected to the computer in front of her. “Just so you know, you still have about a year and a half left.”

 

The English librarian adjusted his spectacles and regarded the gypsy with a puzzled expression.  “A year and a half left for, ah, what exactly?”  They were both seated at one of the library’s long wooden oak tables with piles of old texts and ancient manuscripts laid all about.  The Tiffany lamp perched on the table cast lingering shadows in the dim library, illuminating the book that the Watcher held lovingly in his hands.  He gazed for a long moment at the gypsy teacher’s beautiful, sensual face framed by her indigo hair and illuminated by the dim glow of the computer monitor. My God, she’s so beautiful…

 

“To join the Twentieth Century,” Jenny drawled as she clicked the mouse and retrieved an article on a website that specialized in the occult and folklore.  She never missed the chance to tease her favorite librarian about his aversion to modern technology.  While she prided herself on her expertise of computers, among other things, the Englishman chose the old-fashioned, scholarly route, immersing himself in centuries, sometimes millennia-old, manuscripts and scrolls.  I guess what they say is true, opposites do attract, she mused.

 

“Oh…yes, very amusing,” Giles noted in a droll tone.  “Well, I think I shall have to be, to use the vernacular of this country, ‘dragged into the Twentieth Century kicking and screaming.’”

 

Jenny chuckled and shook her head.  “If that’s what it takes, England….” Her voice trailed off as she read the opened text document on her computer screen.  Then she frowned.  “Hmm.”

 

“Find something?”

 

The Technopagan raised an eyebrow at the Watcher.  “That kind of expression always gets your attention, doesn’t it?”  She returned her attention to the computer.  “Well, I’ve found some history on these vampires called the Hell Riders.   Looks like you were right, England…they’re not exactly a warm and fuzzy bunch.  According to occult folklore, they’re descended from a rather notorious gang of outlaws that were prevalent throughout the American West during the 1800’s.  They pretty much did everything…murder, robbery, rape, arson, etc.  And they did all of that BEFORE they were turned.”

 

“Hmmm, yes, that seems to agree with what I’ve found here,” the Englishman said as he stood up with the book still carefully cradled in his hands.  He walked around the table to where Jenny sat, but stopped before getting too close to the computer in front of her.

 

“What’s wrong, Rupert, can’t take the heat?” Jenny teased as she gave him a flirtatious smile.  She shifted her position slightly to allow the Watcher a full view of her legs, as she slowly crossed them seductively.

 

“Yes…well, ah, I think this is as close to that…dread thing…as I wish to get,” Giles muttered. He tried to examine the computer screen, although the Gypsy, still clad in her evening dress, greatly distracted him. 

 

“This ‘thing’ won’t bite, Rupert…I promise,” the computer teacher said as she gestured at the computer screen, all the while her eyes twinkling with humor.

 

The Watcher huffed.  “Well, after that little incident with Moloch last year, I can’t truly say I could even be certain of that now, can I?”  After a moment, Giles relented with a sigh and sat on a creaking chair next to her, the book still cradled in his hands.

 

“The good news,” Jenny chimed in, continuing her analysis, “is that they’re believed to operate with a bit of the old mob mentality.  That’s to say they don’t have any particular long term goals or sophisticated agendas….they just like to pillage, murder, massacre, and have lots of bloody fun…you know, your average vampire thugs.”  The gypsy Amazon gazed at the screen again then added “with guns.”

 

“Ah, d-did you say…guns?”

 

“Yes, Rupert,” the computer teacher confirmed in a tone as though she was speaking to a child, “guns. You know, things that go ‘bang’?”

 

Giles tossed a frown at Jenny, who only smirked wickedly in return.  “Yes, of course,” he muttered.  “Vampires with guns.  Well, since this IS bloody America, I can’t say I’m surprised in the least.”  The Watcher sighed deeply as he placed his book on the table and drew out his handkerchief to wipe his spectacles.

 

“Hey, Mr. I’m-So-Stuffy-I-Eat-Scones, what’s up with the diss?” The Technopagqan snapped with a cocked eyebrow.

 

The Watcher placed his spectacles on the bridge of his nose and said, “Well, it’s not meant to be, as you would say, a ‘diss’, Jenny.  It just seems that you Americans, such as our dear Mr. St. Wolf, have quite a fascination with firearms.  Although I suppose that’s only natural for a country that prides itself on its so-called masculinity.”

 

Jenny rolled her eyes.  “Uh-huh…this from a guy who didn’t hesitate to whip out his piece to dust a vamp less than an hour ago.”

 

Giles took a moment to glare at the Amazon, who now had a bemused expression on her face.  “I’ll have you know I considered that an act of pure necessity, as opposed to a bunch of Yank cowboys shooting guns all over the place and shouting….’Yippe-ki-yay’, or whatever it is they spout these days.”

 

“Sure, England, you keep telling yourself that.  You might actually believe it someday!”  The gypsy took a few more moments to do a search on her computer, before shaking her head and shutting down the terminal.  “Unless you’ve found something in one of your dusty volumes, I think we’re done.  Overall, I’d say we’re not in serious crisis mode…yet.”  The teacher then frowned.  “Of course, that depends on just how well-armed these vamps are…”

 

“And just how many there are exactly, and what they’re planning,” the Watcher added, finishing her statement.  He scratched his chin thoughtfully.  “Well, I…suppose Buffy and the others are all right.  Of course, I’m assuming Mr. St. Wolf had them carry a bit more than their average assortment of weaponry,” he added with a touch of resignation, as he looked down at the two emergency gear bags they had stowed on the floor next to the table.  Both bags held an assortment of wooden stakes as well as holy water and spell-casting implements…in addition to two MP5A3 submachine guns equipped with laser sights, suppressors and extra magazines.

 

Jenny patted his back assuredly.  “Don’t worry about them, Rupert…they’ll be fine.”

 

“Oh, I’m quite sure of that…as long as they don’t do something foolish like burn down half the bloody town,” Giles sighed.  After that the Watcher and the Amazon shared a moment of silence.

 

The dark beauty pursed her lips in thought for a moment then smiled.  “You know,” she purred, in a slightly different tone of voice that instantly caught the librarian’s attention, “you were quite suave, the way you dealt with that vampire.  The way you handled that pistol almost reminded me of….”

 

“Er…James Bond?”  Giles asked in a hopeful tone.

 

“Nope,” the gypsy piped up in reply, then smirked.  “I was thinking more ‘Austin Powers.’”

 

A look of absolute dread crossed the Watcher’s face and he almost turned white, while the Technopagan’s eyes twinkled with amusement.  “Jenny, I beg you, for God’s sakes, never bring speak of that movie in my presence again!”  Giles shuddered for a moment, trying to forget the images seeping into his mind.  “I must admit I’m still traumatized after Buffy and Xander tricked me into watching that…that dreadful film.”

 

The dark Amazon laughed and her beautiful, lilting voice tickled Giles’ senses.  “Come on, Rupert, where’s your sense of humor?”  She then smiled…a very different kind of smile than the one before.  “As Buffy would say, you could be SO Austin Powers, the International Man of Mystery…” Before Giles knew what hit him, Jenny smoothly glided over to the librarian and sat on his lap, with an arm wrapped around his neck.  “And I can be your Ms. Kensington,” she added in a huskier voice, her lovely face just inches away from his, her dark luminous eyes boring into his own.

 

Giles sat frozen, completely caught off guard by his gypsy enchantress.  After a moment he inhaled the scent of her perfume once again, as the dark Amazon gently lifted the spectacles from his face and placed them on the top of the table.   She then turned to the Watcher again and leaned even closer, their faces now only a whisker’s length apart as she laid her other hand on his chest to detect his rapidly beating heart.  She shifted her position slightly and Giles felt her smooth, shapely behind clad in the shiny black leather dress press enticingly against his groin.

 

“Jenny…” Giles began, feeling uncertain.

 

“Shhhh…” The Technopagan quietly hushed Giles with a finger pressed to his lips, then glided her finger underneath his chin and drew his lips to hers…

 

The Watcher immediately found himself savoring the taste of his lover, his tongue exploring her mouth with a sudden fervent passion, as her own tongue reciprocated.  His right arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, their bodies melding together as they continued to kiss…until the gypsy unexpectedly broke the kiss and gazed at the Watcher.  “What are you doing?” she asked softly.

 

Giles blinked.  “What?” he asked in confusion, then looked down and noticed his left hand had slid down to rest on her outer thighs.

 

“Not there,” she spoke softly.  She gently took the Watcher’s hand in hers and guided it to her inner thighs, just below her skirt.  “There.”

 

The Englishman gazed at where his hand now rested, before he glanced at the gypsy’s face again, which now wore an impish smile.  While still smiling, she brought her sensuous face to the Watcher’s again and kissed him more deeply this time.

 

Giles’ hand explored the gypsy’s inner thighs, causing the Amazon to shudder and moan with pleasure.  He marveled at the silky smoothness of her skin, as his hand began to rub faster and further up her thighs…until his fingertips lightly brushed against hot, moist curls…

 

The gypsy’s mouth broke free from his as she gasped while she craned her head back in ecstasy, her eyes closed as she bore her neck to the Watcher, her throbbing pulse visible beneath her skin.  Giles gave in to his urges and clasped his mouth to the gypsy’s pulse, bringing another gasp and then a sigh of pleasure from the Technopagan as she gave herself over to her lover, her left arm hugging him tightly.  With her other arm she moved her hand to the top of her dress, and began to draw the leather material away from her shapely bosom…

 

“I SAY, WHAT THE DEVIL IS GOING ON HERE?!! Is this a library or a brothel?!”

 

The lovers’ tryst was abruptly terminated as they opened their eyes and looked toward the source of the booming voice.  Standing at the library entrance were two distinguished-looking gentlemen in finely-tailored business suits carrying leather-bound briefcases.  One of them could have passed for a stuffy-looking Michael Caine.  He possessed graying hair and a prominent frown set upon his face as he glared at the couple, while the other was a slightly younger, nervous-looking man with brown hair, glasses and a large mustache.   Giles and Jenny quickly untangled and rose from the chair, with the Watcher quickly snatching up his spectacles from the table and straightening his tie, while the Amazon slowly moved toward the two weapon bags sitting by the table as she kept her eyes on the new arrivals, ready to act if there was trouble.

 

“Excuse me,” Giles began, clearing his throat as he hurriedly put on his glasses, his complexion turning a shade of red as he regarded the two men, “may I help you?”

 

“Mr. Rupert Giles?”  The older looking gentleman queried in a formal, well-cultured English accent, although it held the hint of a sneer as he addressed the librarian…something that wasn’t missed by the Watcher as his eyes narrowed slightly at the man’s tone of voice.

 

“Yes, that would be me.”

 

“I am Mr. Edward Trent, and this is my assistant, Mr. Patrick Nelson,” the elder man gestured to the gentleman standing next to him, whose eyes kept twitching back and forth between the librarian and the gypsy.  “We represent your…employers, and we have some ‘business matters’ to discuss.”

 

Giles raised his eyebrows momentarily in surprise.  “I see…you’re with the Watcher’s Council?”

 

Edward visibly grimaced at the mention of the name.  “Mr. Giles!  If you don’t terribly mind, it would be greatly appreciated if you were a bit more discreet in the presence of such company as this…woman,” he said as his eyes narrowed in distaste at the sight of Jenny Calendar in her evening dress.  The gypsy’s own eyes narrowed darkly in return as she regarded the stuffy Englishman, deciding that she didn’t like the newcomer’s apparent attitude.  Wonder if he even likes women, she mused.

 

The librarian gritted his teeth and struggled to retain his composure.  “This woman you refer to just happens to be my companion, Jenny Calendar, and whatever your business is here, if indeed you represent the Council, I would appreciate it if you were to show proper manners and tell me why you are—“

 

“Jenny Calendar?!”  Edward’s voice nearly boomed in the library as he gazed at the woman incredulously, then turned to the Watcher and glared at him in silent accusation.  “You mean to tell us that this woman is indeed your…companion?!”

 

“Yes,” Giles said calmly, “she is.”  The Watcher’s reply brought a look of surprise from the gypsy…along with a smile.

 

“You mean to tell me you are indeed fraternizing with this woman,” Edward hissed, “who just happens to be a member of the gypsy tribe who placed the curse on the vampire Angelus!”

 

At the very mention of that, Giles’ blood ran cold along with Jenny’s.  Before Giles could digest what Edward had just said, the elder Englishman continued, noticing his surprised look.  “Yes, Mr. Giles, the Council has been keeping track of developments here in Sunnydale…and to say the least we are rather appalled at the apparent reports that your charge, the Slayer of all people, was engaged in a sordid affair with the vampire Angelus!  Frankly, I must say I am rather disappointed, and rather disgusted, at this revelation, not to mention that this all occurred under your watch!”

 

“Now, wait just one moment…”

 

“And if that wasn’t enough,” Edward continued, cutting off the Watcher, “now you tell me, and from what I saw rather plainly just a few moments ago, that you are engaged in a tawdry affair with this woman, this Jenny Calendar…who is in fact, from what we have learned through our sources, is a spy working for the Kalderash gypsy clan!”  The elderly man fired an accusatory look at the gypsy, before shaking his head in disgust.  “Truly Mr. Giles, you are a man of even lower taste than I could have—“

 

“IF you are finished with your condescending diatribe and your baseless insults, I suggest you get to the matter of why exactly you are here, before I toss you out on your arse!” Giles growled menacingly, his usual gentle demeanor long gone as he revealed a hint of his Ripper persona as he glared at Edward.  Although he was already beginning to wonder how exactly Edward knew of the information he had revealed, or more importantly, how much he really knew about what was going on, he wasn’t going to stand and tolerate anyone trying to insult his position as Buffy’s Watcher…or anyone trying to insult his lady love.

 

Edward stiffened momentarily as he regarded the Watcher, silently gulping as he noticed Rupert Giles’ furious expression…then gulped again when he noticed the dagger-like glare Jenny Calendar was shooting at him as well.  Rearing himself up slightly, Edward continued in a more professional tone of voice yet still devoid of warmth.  “Mr. Giles, on behalf of the Governing Council of Watchers, I am here as a Senior Watcher to make a progress report on the Slayer known as Elizabeth Anne Summers, and to also make a progress report on your actions as her Watcher.”  The elder Watcher’s eyes narrowed again.  “As you may or may not know, the Council is quite interested in your Slayer, considering that she, thus far, has survived longer than many of the previous Slayers in recorded history.  However, we are also rather concerned about this...Calendar woman,” he gestured in Jenny’s direction without bothering to look at her, “who we now know through our sources that she spied on both you and your Slayer.  But now…of all the blue bloody blazes, you now tell me you are in fact CONSORTING with this woman!”  Edward’s face nearly turned red as he bellowed out that last statement.

 

Jenny, who quite clearly had heard enough, angrily stalked toward the elder Watcher, causing his nervous assistant to visibly take several steps backward.  Edward’s eyes opened slightly wide in surprise as the gypsy got within an inch of his face.  “Mr. Trent, is it?” she hissed.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Good.  At first, I was going to ask if you’d ever considered switching to decaf, but instead I’m inclined to inquire whether you’ve ever consulted a proctologist.”

 

“A…proctologist?”  Edward blinked several times.  “What the devil are you talking about, Ms. Calendar…if, indeed, that is your name.”

 

Jenny smiled wickedly.  “Why, I thought it was obvious, Mr. Trent.  It appears you need surgery to remove that steel rod that’s shoved so far up your—“

 

“Jenny!”  The Amazon looked over at Giles in surprise, whose face now wore a pleading expression, “please…this is not the time.”

 

Jenny looked at her paramour, apparently confused.  “England, you’re not just going to let this troll badmouth you and Buffy, are you?”

 

“Just who are you calling a troll, missy?”  Edward growled, but then shut up when Jenny gave him a deadly glare.

 

“No, Jenny,” the Watcher continued, struggling to keep his emotions under control, “but there are more…civilized means to resolve this matter.”

 

Jenny just looked at her paramour, open-mouthed, while Edward harrumphed and said, “Well, Mr. Giles, at least you still have some apparent control of your faculties.”

 

“My faculties are just fine, Mr. Trent,” Giles snapped. “I will also have you know that Jenny poses no risk to me or my Slayer in any way, shape, or form.  In fact,” the Watcher paused for a moment, considering what he was about to say, then spoke, “she is no longer a part of her gypsy clan.  Her clan banished her after she….prevented a renegade gypsy from trying to harm Ms. Summers.”

 

Edward stared at the gypsy woman for a moment, whose face had become stoic and revealed nothing, before turning his attention back to the Watcher.  “And I presume you can prove this?”

 

The Watcher nodded.  “I have been making regular diary annotations and reports on all matters concerning my Slayer as is the duty and privilege of all Field Watchers.”

 

“Good, I would like to see everything you have written and reported pertaining to the Slayer,” the elder Watcher glared at the gypsy woman again before continuing, “in private.”

 

“Mr. Trent, I have already told you—“

 

“These are Watcher-related matters, Mr. Giles.  Matters that do not need to involve Ms. Calendar,” he said with a snide expression, before walking over to one of the large wooden tables in the library and setting his briefcase on top, unclasping it as his assistant Patrick followed suit.

 

Giles stared at Jenny momentarily, sadly before murmuring, “Jenny…perhaps it’s best if you go.”

 

A look of fury manifested on Jenny’s beautiful face as she glared at Giles.  She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.  “England, I’m not going any—“

 

“Jenny, please,” the Watcher continued, “for me?   I…I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

 

Jenny’s eyes grew cold before she strolled over and snatched up her belongings next to the table, before Giles could offer to hand them to her.  He walked after her as she marched toward the double doors.  “Jenny, p-please don’t take this the wrong way…”

 

Jenny whirled and glared at the Watcher just as she reached the double door, her face softening as she regarded the Watcher’s compassionate, pleading eyes.  “Who said I was taking it the wrong way, Rupert?  It seems pretty apparent Mr. Stuffy and his patsy over there don’t approve of me.”

 

“I don’t give a damn what they think, Jenny…and neither should you,” he noted softly.  “I’ll deal with them.  I don’t know how much they truly know of the situation, but I promise I’ll try to find out.  In the meantime, I’ll be sure they only know what they need to know.  You may also need to give Buffy a call tonight when she returns from patrol, and apprise her, St. Wolf, and the rest of the group what’s arisen here.”

 

The dark Amazon sighed for a moment, before gazing at the Watcher again, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice as she spoke, “It seems we never really do get a break…do we?”  Despite the bitter tone in her voice, Giles could also feel the sadness in it as well, which almost ripped through his heart.

 

“Jenny….”

 

“I better go, Rupert,” she interrupted him in a softer tone, her shoulders sagged slightly as she spoke.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  Without further ado, she turned and walked out of the library.

 

The librarian watched her form walking alone down the darkened hallway through the small window in one of the doors, before he reluctantly turned away and headed back toward Mr. Trent and Mr. Nelson.

 

#

 

Las Pureza del Fuego

An abandoned Spanish missionary 3 miles north of Sunnydale

19:39 PST

 

“Hey, boss,” one of the burly vampire’s henchmen called from a lookout post, “looks like Lyle’s comin’ back.  Don’t see no one with ‘im, though.”

 

“That so?”  The towering seven-foot tall vampire, dressed in a long leather duster and a black Stetson hat, looked up from the corpse of a biker he’d drained before casually tossing the body to the muddy ground with a dull thud.  Then his features shifted from his game face back to that of a powerful-looking man with piercing dark eyes, a mustache and short black beard.  He gestured to several vampires who were merrily tossing several corpses of a biker gang they had quickly drained onto a large fiery pyre that had been constructed in the center of the ruined villa they now occupied.  “Throw another log on the fire, boys,” he called out with a chuckle.  The henchmen grabbed the corpse and threw it on top of the burning pile, the sweet sickly stench of burning corpses wafting up into the night sky.  With that, the head vampire strode toward the front entrance of the enclosed villa where the rumbling sound of a motorcycle could be heard approaching.

 

Tex Boyd, one of the leaders of the infamous Hell Riders, was the head of this particular vampire pack.  They had just ridden into the outskirts of Sunnydale that night and were now getting settled into the remains of an old Spanish missionary settlement once known as Las Pureza del Fuego.  The site had once witnessed sacrilegious practices by the monks and unspeakable tortures inflicted upon the native Indians that had once lived in the area.  It had long been abandoned more than a century ago and was now in a partial state of ruin, its lone, weather-worn bell tower jutting up like a grasping hand from the partially-collapsed roofs and crumbling walls.  It had since become a hangout for drunken college kids and rowdy biker gangs, such as the unlucky group who had become the victims that night when the Hell Riders had rode in and proceeded to feast on whatever warm-blooded bodies they could find.

 

Tex looked up into the night sky for a moment, observing the low hanging clouds illuminated by flashes of lightning, the blood from his last meal coursing though his undead veins.  “Ahhh, nights like this, it’s good to be a vampire,” he mused out loud.  His brief reverie was interrupted as a Harley-Davidson-vintage chopper rumbled through the entrance’s crumbling archway and came to a skidding stop within a few feet of the towering vampire, kicking up mud onto his leather duster.

 

The head vampire frowned at the mud splattered on his outfit, before glaring at the chopper’s rider.  “Dammit, Lyle…do I have to teach you how to park your ride?”

 

“Uh, sorry, Tex,” Lyle mumbled, as he shut off the motorcycle and footed the kickstand in place, before getting off to stand in front of Tex Boyd.  The comparatively shorter vampire removed his hat in a gesture of respect before continuing.  “Boss…I got some news about the Slayer…”

 

An evil grin that would have made Satan proud flashed across Tex Boyd’s face.  “Ah, I reckon you got some good news for me then, yes?”

 

“Uhhh…” Lyle nervously fidgeted with his hat in his hands.  “Well, Tex, you see…we did find the Slayer, just like you told me and the boys to do.  Wasn’t that hard.  We had a little trap ready for her, see?  And….”

 

The devilish grin disappeared from Tex’s face.  “And?”

 

“Well…she wasn’t alone.  She had some company with her.  A big guy tryin’ to act like he was a gin-u-wine buckaroo like us, some old fancy-dressed city slicker, and a real fine-lookin’ lady who was damn near unshucked.  Had a bit of a mouth on her though.”

 

The grin returned to the giant vampire’s face.  “Ah, so I take it the boys are runnin’ just a lil’ late because they’re feasting on the leftovers, eh?”

 

“Uh, not exactly, Tex. You see…they actually went and…did a number on us.”

 

“WHAT?!!”

 

Lyle inwardly cringed as Tex’s voice boomed throughout the ruined settlement, surprising all the other vampires who now turned toward the conversation with keen interest.

 

“Well, you see, boss,” Lyle called Tex by the respectful title of “boss” in a vain effort to defuse the big man’s boiling temper, “These weren’t just regular dudes.  The big man who looked like he was all friendly with the Slayer pulled out some glowing pigsticker and sliced Buck in half like he was a weed.  The city-slicker jerked a pistol and, I swear on this, fired twice and dusted Floyd like he weren’t nuthin’.”  Lyle’s eyes went wide as he continued to babble. “And that fine-lookin’ lady I mentioned whipped up some serious mojo and shot thunderbolts right from her eyes!  She burned up Carson like a stick of kindlin’.  Oh, and…Farley got toasted by the Slayer.  She stuck one of her twigs in ‘im, and…” The vampire’s mouth quickly shut after he noticed the glare Tex gave him.

 

“I see,” Tex drawled, as he continued to glare at Lyle, who was now beginning to look rather uncomfortable.  “And just how did YOU manage to escape, hmmm?”

 

Lyle quickly painted an ass-kissing grin on his face.  “Well, you see, boss, I had a plan.  Everyone knows I’ve always got a plan.  You see, since plan A didn’t work, I thought I’d try plan B, and figure that if I led them here, that way we could ambush them, and…uh…that was my plan.”

 

The big burly vampire looked over Lyle’s shoulder before looking back at him.  “Well, now, I don’t see no sign of them, Lyle.  Maybe it’s because you hightailed it out of Dodge so damn quick like a yellowbelly, they probably didn’t even think you were worth chasin’!”  Fire almost appeared to be dancing in Tex’s eyes.

 

Lyle stood alone before the towering vampire for a long, silent moment, quietly wondering if this indeed was going to be the last night of his un-dead existence…before Tex simply shrugged and spoke “Oh well…guess that proves that Hack Mutt feller, or whatever his name is, wasn’t lyin’ after all.”  The vampire leader turned away from Lyle momentarily and looked at the several dozen vampires behind him, with a deadly grin on his face.  “Guess we’ll just have to pull out the big guns, right boys?”    The vampires all whooped and hollered in agreement.  As though to further punctuate Tex Boyd’s words, one of the vampire lookouts shouted that a large sedan and a truck were approaching the mission.  The vampires instantly became alert and tense, before the lookout reported that the vehicles had stopped and were flashing their headlights.

 

“That’s them,” Tex said with a nod of acknowledgement.  “Give ‘em the signal and have them come to the gate.”  One of the Hell Riders flashed a signal lamp back at the trucks to move up.  Soon the hum of the sedan and the truck’s engine grew louder as they approached the front of the old mission, their headlights casting stark yellow light and contrasting shadows against the crumbling walls before the vehicles came to a halt. 

 

The front passenger door on the sedan swung open and an average sized man with a medium build stepped out, wearing a jacket and boots.  His dark hair and eyes seemed to blend in with the night as he looked around warily for a second, his right hand resting by the Stechkin pistol on his belt, before he motioned with his other hand.  Several men, armed with folding-stock AKM assault rifles, got out of the sedan and truck and took up guard positions around the two vehicles, while the clean-shaven man with short black hair approached the gate where the Hell Riders were clustered, with Tex out in front.

 

“Well, well, well!”  Tex called out merrily to the armed man who stood warily before him.  “If it ain’t mister….hmm.”  Tex raised an eyebrow as he regarded the individual who regarded him coolly. “What did you say your name was again?”

 

“We do not know each other, obiri,” the man snapped in a clear, crisp Russian accent. “But you may call me Vladimir.”

 

“Vladimir, eh?” Tex drawled in a bemused tone.  “You a Russkie, boy?  Hell, you sound like one...look like one, too.”  He then took a sniff and winced. “Shit son, you sure as hell smell like one!  Been hitting the ol’ vodka pretty hard, ain’t ya?”

 

Vladimir stiffened somewhat for a moment as he coolly regarded the head vampire.  “I don’t drink vodka, obiri.  It’s bad for my liver. Perhaps you have detected it on one of my associates behind me.”  The Russian turned to glare at his compatriots, who all momentarily shrugged before he turned back to the tall black-clad vampire in front of him.  Vladimir reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, causing Tex to warily regard him before his hand slowly pulled out a small, silver cigarette case.

 

“I’m surprised you even know that I would be Russian to begin with, Mr. Boyd,” Vladimir said smoothly as he popped open the case and carefully withdrew a cigarette from the holder, tapped it twice and proceeded to light it with an elegant butane lighter.  “Or that you would even know what vodka is, considering that you are a Yankee buckaroo.  It seems you are actually a bit more, how shall we say, intelligent than some of your dog compatriots are.”  He took a long breath of the cigarette before exhaling it off to the side.

 

Tex’s eyes narrowed with a deadly glint.  “For a mortal and a Russkie, you sure got a mouth, son.  And the irony sure as shit ain’t lost on me with that cigarette you’re puffing, but know this: If you got a big mouth, I imagine you got a pretty big tongue rolled up in there too.  Say any shit about me or my boys again, and I’m gonna rip that tongue out from your mouth and eat it, along with the rest of you, am I clear?”

 

Vladimir paused for a moment from enjoying his cigarette, as he considered the vampire’s words before sighing.  If he was afraid of Tex, he was certainly careful not to let it show. “We’re wasting time.  Let us get down to business, da?

 

“Sounds good to me, amigo.  I imagine you got some gifts for me on behalf of Mr. Hack Mutt, am I right?”

 

Vladimir nodded and snapped out several commands in Russian to his compatriots. The men shouldered their weapons and went over to open the back of the truck and the sedan.  Soon several crates and ammo boxes were brought over and set down in front of the vampires.  The lids were then carefully pried off, revealing the weapons inside that were so new, the vampires including Tex and Lyle could smell the fresh coat of gun oil on the parts.  Vladimir’s men then pulled a weapon out of each crate, assembled them, inspected them, and loaded each weapon with a distinctive metallic sound before laying them out for inspection.

 

“Here we are,” Vladimir announced proudly. “Fresh from the factory in Mother Russia—some new tools to help you with your particular task.  I like to call them tools, because as Sun Tzu once wrote, ‘weapons are tools of ill omen’.”  He bent into the first crate and pulled out what at first looked like a short, stubby assault rifle with a folding skeletal stock.  “PP-19 Bizon submachine gun, this version chambered for the West’s 9mm Parabellum rounds, instead of the standard 9mm Makarov.  This cylinder magazine here,” he pointed to a large removable cylinder under the barrel, “functions as both a handgrip and holds sixty-four rounds of ammunition.  With this, you can clear out a house and still have enough rounds left to pick off any bodies still twitching without having to swap out the magazine.” He moved on to the next crate and lifted up a very distinctive-shaped assault rifle.  “This is the AK-74M, standard assault rifle of the Russian armed forces.  Uses plastic furniture instead of the wooden furniture like the old AK-47 and has a folding buttstock.  Fires a 5.45mm high velocity round from a thirty-round magazine.  Good for penetration and for making very ugly wounds.”  Vladimir then went onto the next two weapons displayed, continuing to talk smoothly as though he were a car salesman as he pointed out the heavy machine gun with belted ammo laying near it.  “Kalashnikov PKM machine gun, fires 7.62x54mm ammunition. Good for suppressive fire, drilling holes in cars and buildings, and of course, crowd control, da?  And last but not least,” an evil smirk appeared on Vladimir’s face as he gazed at the assembled rocket launcher.  “An RPG-7 rocket-propelled grenade launcher.  Can be taken down into two parts for storage or easy transport, and can fire an almost limitless variety of ammunition ranging from 70 to 105mm in size for any occasion.  Even some modern tanks cannot stand up to this piece of portable shoulder-fired artillery.”  Vladimir took another puff from his cigarette and slowly exhaled, making little smoke rings.  “Satisfied?”

 

Tex bent down and picked up the PP-19 Bizon and the AK-74, one in each hand and examined them for a moment.  Seeing that the safety catch on both guns were rather simple, and similar to the old AK-47, he had no trouble flicking the safeties off of each before he spied one of his henchmen out of the corner of his eye.

 

 “Hey, Cody, stand right there for a moment, why don’t you?” Tex drawled out loud to the vampire who casually shrugged. Without warning, Tex turned around and held the guns, one in each hand, and fired off a deafening volley of gunfire that ripped through Cody’s chest, sending spurts of blood flying as he was knocked to the ground.

 

Vladimir stood there quietly for a moment, his cigarette resting between his fingers as he surveyed the scene before him.  While he considered himself the epitome of a cool, collected businessman, doing business with certain…unpredictable personas, such as the vampire Tex Boyd, gave him reason for concern.  He didn’t even dare draw a breath before Cody got up, blood staining his ruined chest, and mock whined.  “Why’d you do that Tex, you just ruined my shirt!”  And with that, all the vampires started howling with laughter.

 

Tex chuckled darkly himself as he casually tossed both of the guns to Lyle, who caught them somewhat clumsily.  “Not bad, Vladimir, not bad at all.  For a mortal and a Russkie, you know how to deliver.  Although speaking frankly, I’ll think I’ll stick with these.”  He drew back his duster slightly to reveal two fully loaded Uzi submachine guns hanging on his belt, as though he were some sort of deranged gunslinger.  With that the vampire made a gesture to his henchman.  “Give ‘em room, boys.”  With that Vladimir nodded in return and casually dropped the cigarette to the ground, smothering it with the heel of his boot as he barked orders to his men to unload the rest of the weapons and ammunition from the truck.

 

“Uh, boss?”  Tex turned back to his sometime-partner and now-henchman, who now wore a look of bewilderment on his face.  “Can I talk to you for a moment?”  The leader of the Hell Riders sighed in annoyance before moving away from where Vladimir and his henchmen were offloading the guns from the trucks.  When they were a little further away, Lyle leaned in and said, “That Hack Mutt feller, he told you about what was going on with the Slayer and her pals?”

 

A small smirk curled up on the taller vampire’s face.  “That he did, Lyle, that he did.  I thought he was just spinning tall tales, but it seems what he was sayin’ about what was goin’ on here in Sunnydale was on the money after all.  Of course, I didn’t want to bet the odds on the house that he was right, so I needed to make sure.  And that you did, Tex, my long-time amigo.  That you did.”

 

Lyle blinked at the man who had often rode with him and his now long-gone brother Tector, unwilling to believe that he’d actually used him in such a fashion.  “But, Tex, you never told me or the boys about all that, how could you—“

 

“Lyle?”

 

“Uh, yeah, boss?”

 

Tex got within an inch of the vampire’s face and hissed, “Shut…up.”

 

Lyle gulped.  “Right, boss.”  Lyle went quiet for a moment, before he found some courage.  “Uh, Tex?  How can you really be sure this Hack Mutt, or whoever…or whatever he is, is on the up and up?  I mean, we haven’t even met this hombre face to face yet…and truth be to tell, boss… something about this feller gives me the willies.”

 

Tex sneered, “What’s wrong, Lyle, you need me to tuck you in now with a little teddy bear?  Sheee-yit, son, grow some damn spine.   After you and that Hack-Mutt feller help me and the boys skin the Slayer and her little gang, we are gonna rule the Hellmouth, and after that…” The vampire’s face took on a wistful expression as his mind drifted off in thought, before he smiled darkly.  “The west will truly become the Wild West…once again.”  With that, he allowed a self-satisfied chuckle to rumble from deep within.

 

#

 

Haight Street

San Francisco, California

19:45 PST

 

A fairly chill wind blew through the bustling streets of the famous Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, carrying with it the faint stench of brine blowing in from the Bay.  At this time of night, the district was alive with the sounds and sights of the city.  People of all stripes, from partygoers to punks, stall vendors and passerby, walked the streets of what had once been one of the centers of the counter-cultural movement in America during the 1960’s.  Nowadays it served as a reminder of San Francisco’s colorful past.  For the lovely young cream-skinned woman who strode past the well-preserved Victorian homes that dotted Haight Street, it felt almost like home to her.  Indeed, she would have felt right at home if it weren’t for the fact that she had a nagging suspicion that someone was following her…

 

Paige Matthews shivered slightly from the breeze as she walked down the historic street, wrapping the denim jacket more tightly around her shoulders.  She mentally scolded herself, yet again, for not wearing something heavier than her silk shirt, denim miniskirt and high heels. She flipped a strand of her raven hair away from her deep brown eyes as she glanced over her shoulder, looking again for a familiar face that she swore had followed her since she had gotten off the bus a few blocks before.

 

Oh jeez, Paige, paranoid much?  Get over it already!  Truth be told though, she didn’t know why she was feeling so jumpy to begin with.  Ever since she’d been a child, Paige had always been the independent sort. Free-spirited and adventurous, she always loved scoping out new things and places. Well…that plus she readily admitted she, at one time anyway, had been a bit of a brat and a hell-raiser, too. Her wild and sordid lifestyle in high school had often been at odds with her fairly conservative Catholic parents, at least until the fateful day when both her parents died in a crash…

 

Paige took a slight gulp then exhaled, the searing pain of that moment still singed her mind.  It’d been several years now, but every time she thought of it the memories came flooding back to her. That oncoming car that her adopted father saw too late, of her own mind screaming of the imminent death that was to come, and then…next thing she knew, she found herself lying on the ground, without a single scratch on her body, yet before her horrified gaze, just a few feet away sat the mangled burning remains of both cars, one of which had held the charred bodies of her adoptive parents.  The horror of that moment always stayed with her, along with a sense of confusion:  How did she suddenly appear outside the car just before the crash?  How…and perhaps more importantly, why?

 

Why did she survive when her parents didn’t?

 

The raven-haired beauty took another deep breath as she tried to bury the pain.  She had survived, but they didn’t. And she'd felt like shit for it.  Survivor’s guilt, a shrink had said. After many sessions, Paige slowly and eventually had gotten on with her life and, for the most part, had turned it around. She’d cut back on the partying and drinking binges and gotten serious about her studies, improving her grades and graduating.  About that same time she'd begun to wonder just who were her real parents and where exactly she'd come from.  She made numerous inquiries, but had no joy.  A part of her had continued to feel empty throughout all this, to the point that she tried channeling her frustration in a constructive manner by becoming a social worker for the city of San Francisco. 

 

So here she was, walking down Haight Street toward a place that had caught her eye.  She could see the large, white and tastefully ornate Victorian home ahead, which was also a store and had a simple, yet eloquent sign hanging above the storefront: RHIANNON’S MYSTICAL EMPORIUM. The elegantly arched windows each displayed a wide variety of different, for lack of a better term, “witchy” stuff: Incense burners, candles, athames, tarot cards, etc.   A large stick-woven pentagram hung in one window, while a large Celtic Cross crafted from stone sat in another.  A small sign tucked into the corner of one of the shop windows read: Divinations and various readings available, please inquire within.

 

She’d chanced by the place before, but truthfully had been somewhat hesitant…maybe because of her lapsed Catholic background.  Or maybe she was just afraid it would be one of those hokey, fake places that tried to rip off a poor sucker’s money.  But yet…the place didn’t feel anything like that.  She didn’t know why; it just didn’t. And now she was beginning to feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, again…

 

Paige quickly whipped her head about again to see if there was indeed the face of that one sinister-looking fellow she’d seen get off the bus with her…and her heart skipped a beat when indeed she saw him, not far behind.  He stood by one of the streetlamps, the light seeming to miss his form entirely and cast his rather swarthy looking features and dark clothes in shadows.  The man’s face broke into an amused smirk as he began to slowly, assuredly walk toward her.

 

The brunette’s lovely face set in a grim line as she clasped the small canister of pepper mace she kept in her purse for certain emergencies, like now.  Okay, if you’re stalking me, creep, you’re gonna get a fist-full of mace right up your ass!  Paige then quickly glanced around the block.  There were some other pedestrians here and there, but no sign of a cop.  She glanced back at the mystic shop, which was just a short walk ahead.  She’d come to this place hoping to find answers, but now she was also hoping they had a telephone as well to call the police.  She quickly began to quicken her pace toward the store, which wasn’t much farther when suddenly all the lights along the entire city block went out.

 

“Now what?” She muttered as she glanced around again.  She could see lights visibly working far down on the next street or so, so obviously it must’ve been just a local circuit breaker that got tripped or something.  Okay, no big deal…except that power outages usually occurred during storms, and this certainly wasn’t a “dark and stormy night”.  Paige looked behind her again to see any more signs of the stalker, but couldn’t see him. Maybe it was just because it was dark, or maybe he was trying to hide himself.  Paige looked back at the storefront which was now only several yards away and quickened her pace.  She could feel her pulse and breath beginning to quicken as well.  Whatever was going on, she was starting to feel seriously creeped out.

 

And then just as she was almost to the store, the man seemed to appear out of nowhere like a phantom in front of her.

 

Paige blinked. What the hell? How did he get over there?!  Okay, she thought, the entrance is right there, get inside and ask for a phone, call the freaking cops…

 

The raven-haired beauty ran inside the entrance and quickly shut the door behind her, her breath coming in gasps and her heart pounding in its chest as she locked all three of the old-fashioned bolt latches on the door shut.  With that done, Paige turned to quickly look around the store.  The store’s lights were, obviously, shut down by the power outage and the only light came from various candles that were arranged and lit around the place.  It appeared almost more like an elegantly appointed old-world-Victorian living room than a store, albeit with plenty of mystical undertones.  Various books, jars of herbs, dagger and wands, and other paraphernalia were displayed on various oak shelves and tables.  However, the faint light from the candles only seemed to make the store feel just a tad bit spooky…that plus there didn’t seem to be anyone around.

 

“Hello?”  Paige’s inquiring voice, tinged with a hint of nervous anxiety, echoed throughout the shop.  “Is anyone here, hello?”  She then frowned.  “Great, I’ve locked myself inside a spooky store with apparently no one around, the power’s out, and there’s some creep outside stalking me.  I guess this is the cue for some guy in a hockey mask to jump out at me with an axe.”  She then noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, right outside the window…

 

Paige whirled around to see the man who’d been stalking her earlier standing right outside one of the windows.  The man whose features seemed to be cloaked in shadows just stood there for a moment, motionless and staring at Paige from outside the shop.  That is, until his eyes seemed to glow red for a moment, before he moved away from the window out of view.

 

Okay, hold everything, a man’s eyes do NOT glow red!  Well, unless he’s wasted, or something. Or maybe, it was her sense of nervousness that was making her see things.  She gradually began to retreat, her eyes constantly scanning the shop windows, wondering if that selfsame stalker/intruder/creep/whatever was still lurking out there…

 

“May I help you?”

 

Paige let out a small yelp before she turned around, half-expecting to find some creepy woman despite that the words were spoken in an enchanting, lilting Welsh accent.  Rather, before her eyes stood what had to be the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen in her life.  The brunette blinked once, then twice as she saw a lovely blonde haired woman in a flowing silk dress standing before her, her sensuous face illuminated by a candle she held nestled in her delicate hands.  Her emerald orbs seemed to capture and radiate some of the candle’s warmth as she gently regarded Paige.

 

“Miss, are you alright? I’m sorry if I frightened you, I was just lighting some more candles after the power went out. Is something the matter?”

 

The social worker then realized that she’d been doing nothing except stare at the woman in front of her, almost feeling for a moment as though she was beginning to fall completely into the woman’s entrancing, hypnotic emerald eyes.  Shaking herself to awaken from her stupor, her creamy white skin flushed slightly crimson with embarrassment before she said, “I…I’m sorry to disturb you ma’am, but I was coming to your store to inquire about a…um, divination, until I saw some creep out there in the street following me and I think he’s still outside. I think he’s some sort of stalker or something.  Uh, do you have a phone so I can call the police?  Like I said, I’m really sorry to bother you.”

 

The young woman shook her head in reply.  “It’s quite alright, dear, you’re not disturbing me at all, but I’m afraid when the power went out, so did the phone. It might partly be because the wiring in this house is rather old, to say the least.”  She then looked toward the windows and narrowed her eyes.  “You said there’s someone following you, and he might still be outside?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The blonde beauty nodded thoughtfully.  “Hmm. Stay here a moment, would you?”  She placed her candle on a nearby counter then briskly walked toward the door.

 

Paige’s eyes opened as wide as saucers. “Whoa, wait a sec! You’re not actually going out there, are you?!”

 

The blonde woman stopped before turning to regard Paige with a mysterious smirk.  “Don’t worry, dear, this will only take a moment.  Let’s just say…I have a way with men.” She then winked before she unlocked the door and stepped out into the street, before closing the door behind her.

 

Paige waited inside the store for a moment, fidgeting and wondering what she’d gotten herself into.  Several moments passed and she began to wonder if maybe she should just get out of the store and leave, before she swore she heard a slight commotion outside, like a shout or something, before there was a brief flash of light.  A minute later, the lovely blonde unlocked the door and stepped back inside, looking none the worse for wear and quietly humming a tune, as she shut the door again.

 

The beautiful woman noticed Paige’s inquiring expression and smiled assuredly.  “Well, I wouldn’t worry about that little nuisance anymore.  He’s…gone away.”

 

The brunette girl blinked in confusion. “Uh, gone away? You mean you saw him and he’s gone, just like that?  What…what’d you do?  And by chance did you happen to see some flash of light out there?”

 

The tall blonde shrugged. “That flash of light must have been someone playing with a lamp.  Oh yes, I did see that rather uncouth-looking stalker you mentioned, but don’t worry, as I said he’s gone.  Or at least, he fled with his tail between his legs when he saw me.  Perhaps it’s because he’s one of the people around here who knows I’m a witch,” she added lightly with a smile.

 

Paige blinked and felt a small lump form in her throat.  A witch? “Uhh, okay.”  She continued to regard the beautiful woman with apprehension.  “So, if I can steal a line from the Wizard of Oz, are you a good witch or a bad witch?”

 

The blonde woman smirked with a hint of amusement and chuckled before she patted Paige’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “Now, now, dear, there’s no need to feel uncomfortable. Despite what you may have heard in the media, I’m hardly the sort of devil-worshipper some of those boorish televangelists and politicians claim us witches to be.  However…I suspect you may have already known that.  After all, you already knew that this little shop caters to the mystic and arcane, and you already stated you came here for a reading.  Why else would you be here?”

 

The raven-haired girl glanced around the store for a moment, fidgeting.  “Er, bath and beauty products?”

 

The beautiful blonde woman gave Paige a dazzling smile as she chuckled softly. “Well, I have some of that particular merchandise in stock as well, all natural.  But forgive me, goodness, where are my manners?”  She offered a hand in friendship, which Paige, after a moment’s hesitation, took in her own and shook.  “My name is Rhiannon Cathcart, and you are…?”

 

“Paige Matthews.”

 

Rhiannon beamed.  “Excellent!  Well, welcome to both my home and store, Paige.  And please, call me Rhiannon.”

 

Paige paused for a moment. “Rhiannon…oh, right, I get it.  Uh, kinda like the Fleetwood Mac song, right?”

 

Rhiannon smiled mysteriously.  “Yes, you could say that, like the song.” She then regarded Paige thoughtfully.  “Now, I believe you mentioned you were here for a reading, yes?”

 

Paige found herself fidgeting again, feeling for a moment almost uncertain.  But why?  It almost seemed as though part of her was telling her that something big was in store for her, but what?  “Well…yeah, I came here for a reading, because…I’m sorry, I don’t want to bore you with all the details, but, okay.”  She took a deep breath.  “The thing is…my parents died not long ago.  But see, we were all together in the car.  But somehow I survived, unscathed, and they didn’t.  I mean, why?  Why me?”  She sniffled a bit as she tried to hold back the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes.  “Why did it happen?  I mean, something must have happened, right?  Something…I don’t know.  It’s like for some reason part of me has felt like there was something else going on in the world then what everyone normally sees on TV or whatever, but what?  What is it?  Why did it choose to save me but not my parents?” Paige sniffled again and hastily wiped at the tears forming in her eyes.  “God, I’m sorry for coming off like this.  I’m a complete stranger running into your store and—“

 

“Child, hush,” Rhiannon said gently and, to Paige’s surprise, drew her into a warm motherly hug.  “It’s alright to feel sad. Unfortunately, we can’t always keep those we cherish with us forever, except in our hearts, like you do with your parents.” Rhiannon drew back and gave Paige a sad, yet earnest smile.  “Believe me…I know.  But perhaps, I can help you with what it is you seek.  Come, follow me,” she offered gently, and gestured toward a door leading to the back of the store.

 

Paige regarded the large oak door with a bit of uncertainty.  “Uh, what’s back there?”

 

Rhiannon smiled once again.  “You’ll see.  Come,” she said as she offered her hand to Paige, which she accepted with a sense of both apprehension and wonder.  The tall blonde then gently led her toward the back, passing by two small bowls that were carefully set aside on the floor, one appearing to hold milk and the other small little honey cakes.

 

“Not to pry,” Paige asked, “but do you keep a cat here?”

 

“Oh, not quite,” Rhiannon said, smirking.  “Those are for the Brownies.”

 

A look of puzzlement crossed the raven-haired girl’s face.  “Brownies? You mean dessert brownies?”

 

The blonde woman chuckled softly and shook her head.  “No dear, not those brownies.  Brownies.  The little folk, the Hidden People.  They’re quite helpful around the house, but they’ve always tended to be a bit shy, unfortunately.  Oh, well.  But come, we mustn’t tarry.”  Paige blinked at Rhiannon’s words before they neared the door, which as if by its own accord, swung open revealing a candlelit chamber within.

 

Paige again felt that odd bit of hesitation course through her, as though feeling that once she entered that doorway there was no turning back, but all that seemed to wash away when Rhiannon turned to look at her with those beautiful emerald eyes, as though just looking into those orbs seemed to make all her doubts and fears melt away altogether.  The beautiful woman held her hand in a reassuring gesture, the warmth from her own lovely hands seemingly flowing into her.  “Don’t worry, there’s nothing that can harm you here.”

 

Without protest, Paige allowed Rhiannon to guide her within the chamber.

 

The room appeared dark at first, but was lit by dozens of candles set within various niches set within rock walls, which surrounded the opulent chamber.  Various handcrafted ornaments and chimes dangled from the ceiling alongside long green vines. Statuary and symbols of different humanoid figures and mythic beasts were carved into the rock walls.  A quiet spring appeared to bubble down the side of one of the walls and formed a small pool in one corner surrounded by leafy plants.  Everywhere lay various bottles of herbs, incense, wands, and other paraphernalia laid about in a casual manner, as though to imply this was not another part of the store, but a place where the Craft itself was practiced.  Off in another corner there was a round cloth-draped table upon which sat a large crystal alongside a lit table lamp, a small leather bag from which several stones inscribed with runes had partially spilled out, and a deck of cards laying face down.

 

Paige gazed in wonder at her surroundings, before her eyes were drawn to the floor, which was hewn from oak and was inscribed with various runes and symbols. “Well, this is a little different,” she drawled, feeling somewhat awed and spooked, all at the same time.  “It’s pretty original to say the least.  Who’s your interior decorator?  This must’ve cost a fortune.”

 

“Me,” Rhiannon replied with a hint of smugness in her expression, before she gestured Paige toward the table.  “Come, sit.”  Paige obediently did so, settling down on one of the plush, high-backed chairs.  It was strange she thought, most people venturing into a room like this would have probably just stood there and gawked before turning around and leaving.  But she hadn’t felt that way.  Again, she couldn't shake that feeling that it felt like home to her.  As she sat, she heard the beautiful, musical chirping sound of several birds above her. Up in the ceiling rafters three birds, one gold, one green and one white looked down at her and chirped musically, the lovely sound carrying into her ears and soothing her mind almost immediately.  The birds then fluttered their wings and flew downwards, before landing on Paige’s shoulders and in her hair, continuing to chirp and sing gently as the raven-haired girl gasped in surprise.

 

“Some pretty affectionate birds you have here,” Paige noted as she raised a hand up to her head as though to pet one of the birds, the white one, before it hopped on to her arm and looked at her innocently, causing her to smile and giggle a little.

 

“They’re my friends,” Rhiannon said, smiling warmly at the birds.  “And they certainly seem to like you.  They’re very good judges of character.” With that said, the birds then spread their wings again and flew back up into the rafters, before sitting down and nestling there. Rhiannon gracefully sat in another chair opposite Paige at the table, before regarding the younger woman thoughtfully.  “Now, by what means would you like me to cast a divination for you?  By way of reading your palms, through the facets of the crystal, by way of the runestones, or by the meaning of the cards?”

 

Paige blinked, then looked at the deck of cards that lay on the table.  “The cards?  You mean Tarot cards?”

 

“Precisely,” Rhiannon said, nodding with a raised eyebrow.  “I would suspect you know a small bit about the Craft, don’t you, dear?”

 

Paige blushed.  “Well, I did watch the movie.”

 

Rhiannon gave a look of bemusement as she showed her the deck of cards.  Upon each card there were different pictures, each replete with different symbols.  “These are but one way, or one tool for that matter, by which one may divine your path in this life, if that is what you wish.” Rhiannon then gave her an earnest look.  “But please understand Paige, what I would tell you, by way of these cards or whatever other means you choose, are by my own perceptions.  And while I would like to think that my own sense of perception is rather vast,” she added with a wry smile, “it is simply that, my own perception.  What I tell you through my own observations may be rather different from what someone else may tell you.  Do you understand?”

 

Paige shrugged.  “Well…I guess so, what the heck. Um...let’s go with the cards.  And to be honest, I guess I really don’t wanna know so much about my future, but…just where I’m going in life, if that makes any sense.”

 

Rhiannon nodded and picked up the deck of cards in her hands.  “Take a deep breath, exhale, clear your mind then focus on your life, what you wish me to divine.” Paige did so, breathing in deeply then exhaling, as she listened to the beautiful woman’s enchanting voice.  “When you have done so, envision your thoughts flowing from you, out from your mind and into your hands.  When you have done this, touch the deck.”  After a moment’s hesitation, Paige gingerly reached out with her hand and touched the deck with her soft fingertips, feeling a slight tingling sensation coursing through her as she did so.   As she withdrew her hand with a small sense of wonder, Rhiannon began to shuffle and fold the deck, once, twice, and then three times.  She then held out the deck again and instructed Paige to remove one card from the deck, a card of her choosing.  “This will be your significant card, or one card that will have a significant role in the reading.  Trust your instincts, then choose.”  Paige, after another moment’s hesitation, gingerly removed a card from the deck and looked at it…

 

A picture of a man dressed in gaudy clothes, carrying a knapsack and looking rather winsome:  The Fool.

 

“Lemme guess,” Paige muttered dryly.  “This means I’m an idiot?”

 

Rhiannon firmly shook her head.  “No, Paige, not at all.  Never take the cards, or anything for that matter, at face value.  Please, if you will place the card on the table.”  After Paige did so, Rhiannon began to draw a card from the deck, one at a time, and lay them out in a cross pattern around the card Paige had chosen.  Two cards were first placed above the first card, one showing the silver orb of the moon, and the other a resplendent woman sitting gracefully flanked by pillars, wearing an elaborate headdress and a crescent at her feet.  “The Moon, and the High Priestess,” Rhiannon explained, then she drew two more cards and placed them to the right, showing a woman sitting regally on a throne in royal clothes clutching a scepter, and a naked man and woman coming together in union.  “The Empress, and the Lovers.”  Two more cards were placed to the left, one showing a man in a robe holding a wand aloft, next to a table covered with spellcasting implements, while the other showed an angel blowing his trumpet from the heavens.  “The Magician, and Judgment.”  The final two cards were then drawn and placed below the first card.  One showed a high stone tower struck by lightning and exploding, and the other showed a sinister-looking figure with horns that could only be the Devil himself.  “The Tower…and the Devil.”  Rhiannon then placed the remaining cards off to the side and sat back for a moment in her chair, studying the cards before her.  “Interesting…most interesting.”

 

A few moments passed in silence before Paige quietly piped up.  “So, what’s it mean?  Am I gonna win the state lottery or anything?”

 

Rhiannon appeared to purse her lips in thought before she regarded Paige with a serious expression on her face.  “I wouldn’t exactly say that Paige.  I’ll give you my own observations as to what the cards appear to say, and let you decide for yourself.  Fair enough?”  Paige shrugged and nodded.  “Good.  The first card you drew, the significant card, is the Fool.  This implies that you are on the start of a very long journey ahead, Paige.  The Fool does not know where he is going, he simply follows the trail to wherever it may lead him.  Above that, the Moon symbolizes the powers of the Moon itself, its wonders and its horrors.  By the light of the Moon, one may witness things many would rather not know, but may also witness wonders the likes of which no one else has ever seen.  It also implies great powers may be bestowed on oneself, and great intuition as well. You must be willing to trust your instincts. The High Priestess represents hidden knowledge, a wise woman who is a repository of all things arcane and supernatural.  You may soon begin to learn, how shall we say, some very odd things of great importance, in conjunction with the Moon.  To the right, the Empress, the one who may be regarded as a mother figure blessed with many gifts.  This may signify an importance in relation to your mother Paige…your true mother.  The Lovers signify that, through this discovery of your connection with your mother, you may find an incredible love like no other. It may be a significant other, or perhaps other relatives you did not know you have, like brothers….or sisters.”

 

Rhiannon took a deep breath then went on.  “To the left, we find the Magician.  He symbolizes the male force of creation, perhaps your father.  One who possessed great powers, or gifts for that matter, like your mother.  Judgment would symbolize the judging of a past deed, perhaps an action that one has come to regret, or what some would call a sin.  This may signify something that your mother and father committed, Paige, and Judgment reflects on the importance of how you will ultimately decide to view that action in your own eyes.  And below…this is where you will need to be careful, Paige, for these two are very important.  The Tower symbolizes that…well…for lack of a better term, that there will be a moment of great strife in your future.  Your established beliefs, or how you wish to see the world, will come crashing down.  It may be a revelation so shocking you may have difficulty accepting it.  But when the Tower is destroyed, however painful it may be, remember...it allows a new one to be built.  And the Devil…this card symbolizes a significant danger, a danger of perhaps excessiveness, or something of malefic origin that may try to enslave you through your own desires.  Be very careful of this, Paige, because in your journey this will be the ultimate test you shall face.”

 

After quietly digesting everything Rhiannon had spoken to her, Paige quietly squeaked out in a hushed voice.  “So…I guess I’m not going to win the Lottery, huh?”

 

“Well…not quite,” Rhiannon drawled.  “But it does mean that you have much to look forward to in your life.  There will be suffering in your time, however…but there will be much joy as well.  Passion and pain, ecstasy and grief. ”  Rhiannon then leaned forward and gazed deeply into Paige’s eyes with her emerald ones, once again giving the young girl that feeling as though she could fall forever into those witch-green orbs.  “Such is the way of life…and of magic.”

 

“Magic?” Paige whispered in a hushed tone.

 

“It may sound clichéd to some, but magic is all around us.”  Rhiannon released her gaze from Paige to look up and around the chamber, gesturing widely with her lovely hands.  “Here, in this chamber, in this house, on the city streets, above and below, in the forests, in the oceans, across the span of the globe and even across infinite galaxies.  Magic is everywhere, Paige. It's as natural as electricity, as the air we breathe, like a living organism, forever in existence, immortal and undying, as natural as the universe itself.  It isn’t necessarily found in a book, or a bottle, or these cards that I showed you.  These only act as tools.  It is found everywhere.  Without…and within.”  With that said, the beautiful woman gently took the raven-haired girl’s hands in her own.  Paige again felt that warm tingling sensation, of something coursing through her.  It felt, for lack of a better word, different, and yet…natural.  Like it was something that had been there all along…

 

Paige blinked in surprise and withdrew her hands from Rhiannon’s, who regarded her thoughtfully.  “Why, again, did you come here, Paige?” The blonde woman asked gently.  “You came because you seek something that which you, or a part of you, have always known all along. When you said that there was something more to the world, you sensed that yourself.  What you sensed is the world of magic.  Magic, or as I prefer to call it, magick, exists within each of us. It lives within me…and it lives within you.”

 

Paige at this point could do nothing except try to digest everything she’d been told….with a rather loud and noticeable gulp.

 

Rhiannon smiled with a hint of bemusement in her eyes.  “Not exactly what you had expected, is it?”

 

Paige gave her a disbelieving look. “Uhhh, no, not exactly.  Actually, I’d say that’s the understatement of the century, no offense.”

 

Rhiannon smiled wistfully at her.  “None taken, Paige.  I understand it can be quite a bit to process.  But then again, you have to admit, there is a certain, well, how shall I put this, wonder in discovering new things, isn’t there?  The wonder of discovery, the adventure and joy of innovation.  If we felt we now knew everything there is to know, then where would that wonder and joy of exploration be?  Humanity would stagnate, and not even begin to reach its potential.” Rhiannon then chuckled and shook her head. “But…goodness me!  I’m terribly sorry to keep you here and bore you with my lectures…”

 

“No, no!”  Paige stammered, causing Rhiannon to arch an eyebrow in surprise.  “I mean, really…yeah, it’s a lot to take in and think about.  But you’re fine, as in, you know, you’re not boring me at all.”

 

Rhiannon once again graced Paige with a smile that felt even warmer this time as she clasped Paige’s hands in her own.  “Thank you, Paige.  It’s good to know that there are girls like you willing to listen, however incredulous some things may seem.  To you, anyway,” she added with a smirk before gracefully rising from her seat and gesturing to Paige to do the same.  “But let’s not tarry further.  I imagine it’s late and I’m sure you will want to be getting along home.  Let’s go see if the power is back on and if it is, I’ll call for a taxi to take you home.  Agreed?”

 

Paige smiled in return, feeling a true sense of kindness and warmth radiating from the lovely woman.  “Why, thank you.  I really appreciate that.”  As they walked over to the door, Paige began to fish in her purse.  “So, how much do I owe you?  For the reading, that is.”

 

“It’s free, Paige.”

 

The brunette gazed at Rhiannon almost in shock.  “Free?  No, wait, I can’t let you do that…”

 

“Yes, you can,” Rhiannon replied firmly.  “You came here asking for a reading and for guidance on the journey that lies ahead of you. You didn’t ask how much I would charge and you didn’t laugh or sneer at the service I offered.  You were rather thankful…and that’s all the reward that I need.  Although,” Rhiannon drawled with a glint in her eye, “that doesn’t mean you may not want to examine any of my wares while you’re in my store.”

 

Paige got the hint and chuckled good-naturedly.  “Well, can’t quite shake off the old shop-till-I-drop impulse, can I?”  They walked back into the store and found that, indeed, the power was back on, as evidenced by several old-style Victorian lamps that were now aglow and bathing the store in rich golden light.  Paige went about browsing through the various wares while Rhiannon made a call to a local taxi service to pick up Paige.  After a while Paige finished browsing through the wide selection and came to the counter with several candles, a few jars with potpourri herbs and incense, and some homemade bath salts. 

 

“Ah, very good,” Rhiannon said.  “But perhaps I can also interest you in some reading material?  Let’s see.”  The Welsh woman went over to the book section and looked over several titles.  “Hmmm…no, not that one, not yet…hmmm, maybe…no, oh wait…this one, yes!  And let’s see…yes, this one too.”  She came back and proffered two books to Paige, which she took and read off the titles.

 

“Buckland’s Complete Book of Witchcraft by Raymond Buckland, and Power of the Witch by Laurie Cabot?”

 

“Two well-written books on the Craft, my dear.  It’s something to help get you started, if you’d like to know more.  But they’re quite good.  Good old Raymond is quite the fellow.  And Laurie is such a spirited lass.  I've had plenty of lively conversations with those two, believe me,” Rhiannon added with a wink in reply to Paige’s inquiring gaze. “But don't be shy. Buy them, read them, and tell me what you think.”  Paige shrugged and added it to her small collection of merchandise that Rhiannon began to ring up on the cash register, before adding, “Oh, did I fail to mention that there is in fact a Pagan festival planned for this Friday night at McLaren Park?” She reached beside the cash register to pick up a pamphlet for Paige to leaf through. “It’s called Beltane, dear. It’s a festival that welcomes the beginning of spring and the blossoming of new life, and of course, fertility.  And I’m quite sure you know what I mean by that,” she added with a wicked grin.  After seeing the wide-eyed gaze from Paige, Rhiannon continued.  “Well, I wouldn’t say everyone will be tossing their clothes to the wind, dear, but it is a festival to celebrate the beginning of a new year, with an emphasis on the joys of a new life, of the love between men and women…or their significant others, for that matter.”  She coughed before continuing.  “It’s free and open to all those who’d like to attend, with free food and drink.  And there will be some very nice, handsome young men there as well, not just women. So what do you say?”

 

Paige leafed through the pamphlet thoughtfully, considering Rhiannon’s offer for a long moment.  What should she say?  Truth be told she wasn’t as much of a die hard partygoer as she used to be, but that was trivial compared to the fact that it was a pagan festival that Rhiannon had invited her to.  I mean, Pagan, hello!  This isn’t like a church gathering or anything! Or was it?  Another part of her told her to take the plunge, since, hell she’d already ventured this far into the unknown.  Why not take her up on her offer and just check it out, for the hell of it?  Paige looked up from reading the pamphlet and replied with a shrug.  “Sure…um, I guess.  Just as long as there’s no kitty sacrifices or anything…oops, sorry, no offense meant.”

 

A small chuckle escaped from the Welsh woman before she smiled broadly.  “Wonderful!  Oh, and no offense taken, Paige…this time, anyway,” she indicated with a wave of her finger and a twinkle in her eye. “As I said, it’ll be at McLaren Park on Friday night, starting at 7:00 pm.  Just follow the signs, and you should have no trouble finding it.”  She finished ringing up the merchandise and placed it all neatly in a brown paper bag, while Paige handed over several bills and some change.  A moment later, a yellow taxi cab could be seen outside pulling up to the curb.

 

“It appears your ride is here,” Rhiannon indicated with a nod toward the taxi outside the shop.  “Well, I won’t keep you any longer.  Thank you for coming, Paige,” she said softly as she gave Paige an earnest expression with her soft, beautiful green eyes.  “I truly appreciate your company.”

 

Paige looked at her in confusion.  “You’re thanking me? Uh, what for?”

 

Rhiannon smiled gently.  “As I said, I appreciate having you here.  Many come in here simply to browse, or gawk at my wares, or have so precious little appreciation for what magick is.  Others however, are different…like you, for instance.  And it’s always lovely to meet a friendly face.”

 

Paige felt her creamy-white cheeks blush slightly, as she brushed a few strands of raven hair away from her pretty face.  “Oh, thanks.  And thank you for, you know, for being so nice to me.  It’s kind of something you don’t always see in a big city, even in San Fran.”  She fiddled slightly with the shopping bag she held before continuing.  “But you know, I’m really…I mean, REALLY new to all this stuff.  I mean it seems just a little overwhelming to me.”

 

Rhiannon continued to smile as she took Paige’s free hand in her own. “Ah, but everyone starts somewhere, don’t they?  And for you, it’s like I said: your journey is just beginning.”  She then drew Paige into another motherly hug, one that Paige found quite comforting, before releasing her and clasping her hands in her own a final time. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing you again on Friday, Paige.  Blessed Be.”  Paige nodded and smiled at the woman, liking the kindness and warmth that seemed to radiate from her like an aura, before she went out the door.

 

The raven-haired beauty opened the cab door and slid inside the taxi with her bag, before indicating to the driver where she wanted to go.  As the taxi cab pulled away from Rhiannon’s Mystical Emporium, Paige chanced a glance behind her, spying Rhiannon in one of the store windows, offering her a friendly wave, before the store faded from view.  As she turned back and relaxed in the well-worn leather seat of the cab, Paige pondered on everything that had happened tonight, from her encounter with the stalker, to her meeting with Rhiannon, and then everything that Rhiannon had told her.

 

As she watched the city lights and streets of San Francisco zoom past her, Paige felt that feeling once again, that there was something out there beyond what was considered the everyday world.  Something beyond that she felt a part of her could almost touch.

 

But this time, it felt more natural to her, comforting actually, and it didn’t bother her at all.

 

#

 

Rhiannon watched the cab fade from view, before she went about locking the door, drawing down the curtains and reversing the “Open” sign on the door to “Closed”.  When she was finished with this, she slowly turned around, the flowing silk dress she wore morphing in an aura of golden light into the beautiful, ethereal and shimmering dress of none other than the Sorceress Supreme herself.

 

“Well, I think she’ll be just fine, for now anyway,” the Welsh Goddess of the Moon and Magic drawled out loud.  “Now for another matter.”  She made an easy wave of her lovely hands, the Soul Gem now visible on her forehead radiating with power, before in a flash of crimson light appeared the swarthy, shifty-looking man in a coat and hat that had been stalking Paige earlier, contained and squirming in a fiery cage of bars.

 

“Release me at once, you interfering, do-gooder BITCH!!!” the man screamed in fury.

 

“Now, now, don’t be such a boor,” Rhiannon said lightly with a mock frown, as she wagged her index finger at him in disapproval.  “You really should learn proper etiquette on how to address a lady.  Or for that matter, learn how to behave like a civilized person.  I mean, I’ve only been in this country a short while, and already I have uncouth barbarians at my doorstep. Oh…and stalking a woman?  That is quite the no-no.  Then again,” she cooed softly, “that would be rather ‘par for the course’ for a person, or shall I say thing, of your particular ilk, wouldn’t it?”

 

As if in reply the man’s features seemed to twist and split apart completely, his clothes shredding to bits as his form morphed and changed into that of a gargoyle-like creature with flayed skin, a reptilian skeletal head with glowing red sockets for eyes, and skeletal bat-like wings that stretched out and attempted to flap inside the narrow confines of the cage.  His true form revealed, the creature tried to beat at the fiery prison that held him, yet screamed and recoiled when its taloned claws were burned when it came in contact with the flames.

 

The Welsh Goddess sighed theatrically as she regarded the creature with a look of boredom.  “My, you minor demons truly never change, do you?  Well, it seems the Source hasn’t changed his ways, either.  I mean, has he truly learned nothing from his predecessors?  It’s not as if he’s that high on the demonic food chain anyway, you know.”

 

The demon’s eyes, or what passed for eyes in any case, seemed to widen slightly at Rhiannon’s statement, bringing a wicked smile from the Sorceress Supreme.  “Indeed, I wager you are wondering how I knew that.  Well, even though you’re a demon, it’s not all that difficult to pluck the information I need from your mind.  I am a Goddess, after all.”

 

The demon’s jaw dropped open while Rhiannon regarded him with a bemused expression.  “Now, what shall I do with you, hmmm?  Shall I spare your existence, at least long enough anyway, to send a message back to the Source not to get in over his head while I am in town?”  The Welsh Goddess feigned to think momentarily, before allowing her lovely red lips to form into a wicked smile.  “No, I think that would be a waste of time.  The poor boy simply doesn’t have the mental capacity to know when he’s outclassed.  I believe your death in a slow, painful and agonizing fashion, will provide a much more…satisfying conclusion to tonight’s proceedings.  Ta ta, my dear.”  With that, the Goddess raised her hands, from which two beams of light shot forth and engulfed the magical cage.  Soon, the fiery containment cell began to slowly shrink and close in on the winged demon.  The monstrosity panicked and began to shriek, flapping its wings to no avail as the fiery strands began to burn into the creature, cutting into its leathery flesh, burning away its various appendages and crushing its body.  The creature howled in pain and fear as it was slowly crushed AND burned as the cage grew smaller…and smaller, until it was a tiny globe of fire, from which could be seen just the scorched remains of the creature’s head that shrieked one final death cry before the globe collapsed in upon itself and disappeared, taking the demonic entity with it and leaving only a few wisps of smoke behind.

 

Rhiannon hummed a tune as she gazed over at where she’d placed the gifts of milk and honey cakes for the brownies that evening, only to see that they had been fully consumed. With a satisfied expression on her lovely face, the Goddess gestured toward the doors that led to her divination chamber and they flung open with a creak, from whence her three winged friends flew over to her outstretched arm that was encased in her ethereal gown.

 

Rhiannon smiled warmly at the three birds, which each chirped and sang affectionately to her.  “Shall we go and see what Prudence, Piper, and Phoebe are up to?”  Then she chuckled, thought once more of Paige, and quipped, “Their mother, Patricia, must have been a very cruel woman to curse her daughters with names like that!”  And with that, the Sorceress Supreme and her three birds morphed into a shimmer of golden sparkles, before disappearing altogether.

 

#

 

Apartment of Jennifer Calendar

Sunnydale, California

19:55 PST

 

Jenny sighed as she hung up the phone that sat on her nightstand next to her bed.  She had just finished calling Buffy on her cell-phone about the situation concerning the unannounced arrival of the Watchers.  Naturally, the Chosen One didn’t sound terribly thrilled by the unexpected news, and Jenny suspected her friends weren’t going to be terribly thrilled either.  Oh well.  Jenny’s thoughts drifted back to the recent meeting between her and the Watcher team, particularly that boorish troll Mr. Trent, and his unkindly comments about her.  “Stuck-up, arrogant prick,” she muttered to herself. As far as she was concerned, the Limey bastard didn’t even know how close he came to getting vaporized by her. She continued to fume for a moment then silently wondered why she was so upset.  She should have just blown him off, and she had been ready to do just that…until her favorite Englishman had told her to leave.  Almost just like the last time…when she had offered to help Buffy and the others battle the Judge…

 

The gypsy squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, trying to block out that painful memory.  No, she told herself.  It wasn’t the same.  Rupert hadn’t told her to leave because it was the will of that bastard Trent, he’d only told her to leave because, for better or worse, she would have been a distraction.  But then, when she thought further about it….wasn’t that possibly the same reason Rupert had told her to leave the first time?  That she would have been a distraction to Buffy and her Watcher?  Jenny took a deep breath then exhaled, shutting her eyes momentarily again.  When she opened them, she felt wetness on her cheek.  She wiped her face with her hand then looked at it.

 

A tear.

 

Jenny reluctantly rose from her bed and padded over to the kitchen.  She opened the refrigerator and spied the large chocolate cake on the top shelf, the one she kept for certain emergencies, particularly emotional ones.  One of the greatest advantages of being an Amazon was that her metabolism had increased tenfold, and she had to worry more about losing weight than gaining weight.  No, no, she chided herself.  You mustn’t eat sweets before bed; you might get a tummy ache and have bad dreams.

 

“Screw you,” she snapped out loud then proceeded to slice a generous portion.  While she devoured a slice of chocolate heaven, she turned on the television to catch the evening news.  Not much was going on in the world…other than the usual “good” news that the networks liked to report, such as riots, civil wars, catastrophes, etc.  Oh, and the local weather forecast predicted another cold front following the one that had recently hit Sunnydale, arriving tomorrow and likely to bring rain for at least a day, if not several.  Jenny frowned at that.  If it continued to rain for the next several days, it could mean the Beltane ritual they had planned for Friday night would be a bust.

 

The gypsy Technopagan sighed and turned off the TV, deciding she’d heard enough good news for one night.  After putting the dishes away, she slowly undressed and draped her leather outfit over a chair, then padded over to the bathroom and into her shower. She turned on the shower head and allowed the water to stream down her face, through her raven hair, and down along her nude body.  She sighed as the water carried away her fatigue.  Her thoughts then drifted to her fuddy-duddy librarian, of what it might be like if he was with her, now, in the shower together…

 

“Rupert,” she whispered, her eyes closed while she lathered her body with soap, imagining his hands were the ones caressing her. A moan emanated from her parted lips as her right hand unconsciously drifted down between her legs and began to stroke, her middle and ring finger deftly caressing her nether regions.  Her other hand caressed each breast and gently pinched her nipples.  The gypsy moaned again and began to pant as she continued to touch herself, faster and deeper.  The rapid movement of her fingers combined with the warmth of the shower’s streaming water aroused her further until, no longer able to stand, she shakily leaned against the stall, gasping for breath as a damp heat blossomed between her legs and spread throughout her body. Warm water continued to caress her face as her orgasm flowed through her.  Moments later, she opened her eyes, expecting to find her English lover beside her.

 

But he wasn’t there. 

 

The Amazon witch reluctantly finished rinsing herself, then dried off with a towel and stepped out of her shower.  After taking care of the rest of her nighttime routine, she padded toward her bed.  A thick leather-bound book rested on a nearby table, a book on gypsy divination techniques, along with a scrying crystal and some other spell implements. Perhaps she'd do a little scrying of her own, and see what she could discover.  If nothing else, it would give her something to do and get her mind off of things.  Before she could take another step however, she blinked and then gave out a long, stifling yawn.

 

Whoa, I guess I must've been a lot more worn out from tonight's antics than I thought. 

 

She almost thought about throwing on a shirt and a pair of shorts, but then decided against it.  She just suddenly felt so…tired.  Maybe a nap was in order, instead.  The gypsy gently rolled onto the mattress and threw the single satin blanket over her nude form.  As her head touched the pillow she began to feel herself drift away, into the world of dreams, yet before she succumbed, she managed to whisper a prayer of protection for her friends, Amazon sisters and loved ones to Artemis.  Then sleep consumed her.

 

As the gypsy slept in her bed, a regal and beautiful brunette woman dressed in hunting leathers appeared in Jenny’s boudoir.  The woman leaned over to examine the sleeping Amazon gypsy, before she gently brushed away a few strands of raven hair from Jenny’s sensual face.  The woman smiled mysteriously then softly caressed Jenny’s forehead.  Soon, a soft golden glow emanated from the woman’s fingertips, causing the gypsy to stir and moan slightly before the golden illumination vanished.  Nodding to herself, the woman stood, reached over to switch off the lamp nearby, and faded from view…

 

#

 

1329 Prescott St.

San Francisco, California

20:05 PST

 

“Ahhh!  Ohmigod, help!  Somebody, anybody…help!”

 

Piper Halliwell glanced frantically around her kitchen.  “Quick, quick—where’s the cooking wine?  Dammit, everyone—this is an emergency!” 

 

The diminutive, chestnut-brown-haired woman stood over a large skillet, sautéing beef and vegetables.  Appearing to all the world as a crazed chef garbed in her stained cooking apron with caked flour on both of her cheeks, no one would suspect that Piper, the middle sister of the current crop of Halliwell witches, along with her sisters, Prudence and Phoebe, were the Charmed Ones, a potent force of mystical good in an unsuspecting world.  At the moment, however, Piper was experiencing yet another of her infamous panic attacks.  As she surveyed the scene before her with her patented wide-eyed stare, while her hands flailed about, it appeared the apocalypse was fast approaching, unless someone did something, fast…

 

Then, as luck would have it, someone unceremoniously handed her a bottle of red cooking wine.

 

“Oh, thanks, Phoebe,” she said with a loud and notable sigh of relief, before promptly adding a liberal dash of the contents to what would be tonight’s dinner in the Halliwell’s opulent Victorian manor.  Soon there was more of the flavorful smell of beef and vegetables simmering in wine with other seasonings wafting through the large, spacious kitchen, bringing a contented smile to her pretty face.  “Ahhh…doesn’t that smell just heavenly?”

 

“Y’know Piper,” Phoebe muttered, her chin resting on her cupped hand as she leaned on the kitchen counter with a slightly bored expression, “there’s not gonna be much of that dinner left if you keep thrashing it.”

 

“Oh, hush,” Piper scolded lightly, before she raised a small bit of the broth to her delicate mouth with a spoon and sipped, pursing her lips thoughtfully before stirring a little more.  “At least I can cook.”  She then smirked mockingly at the youngest Halliwell sister and drawled, “You, on the other hand…”

 

“Hey!” Phoebe interrupted with an indignant shake of her brown-haired head.  “I can cook too, y’know.”

 

Piper rolled her eyes as she added a little more pepper to the meat and vegetables.  “Oh right…I guess microwave pizzas and toasting bagels does count for something.”

 

“It SO does count!  Everyone knows that no one toasts a bagel better than me, ain’t that right, Prue?”

 

Prue was Prudence’s, the eldest of the three sisters, nickname.  The raven-haired woman smiled mischievously as she casually leaned against the kitchen table with her arms crossed.  “Hmmm, well, let me think about that,” she replied, looking skyward as though pretending to think, before she glanced at Phoebe.  “Yeah, I’d say it’s something you’re good at.  One of the few things, anyway…”

 

The youngest sister glared at the oldest while she along with the middle sister chuckled.  “Whoa!  That is SO not true!  Did you see how I arranged the whole dinner table over there?” She gestured with a wave of her hand toward the table where all the plates, cutlery, and side dishes were neatly arranged.  “See?  Everything is in its rightful place.  Hell, I betcha Martha Stewart would be proud of me right now.”

 

Piper looked over her shoulder and added dryly, “I’m not sure that looking to Martha for approval is such a ‘good thing,’ Pheebs.  I tell you, the only way that woman can possibly accomplish all that she does is by invoking demonic powers.”  As Piper continued to stir, she asked, “Oh, by the way, everything’s in place, right, Phoebe?”

 

The baby of the family gave her sister a slightly condescending look.  “Well, yeah, it’s been ready for the last half hour or so. We’ve all been waiting on you.”

 

The middle Halliwell sister frowned.  “Well, you can't rush when you're cooking a cordon bleu recipe; otherwise it's gonna turn out all yucky.”

 

The youngest Halliwell sister's beautiful brown eyes shot wide before turning to glance over at her eldest sister with a smirk.  “Whoa....Prue, can I have you as my witness to this? Piper actually said she can't rush something!”  Despite her best efforts, Prue's face broke into an amused smile of her own.  “I guess the world must be coming to an end,” Phoebe added before she cringed.  “Whoops, shouldn't have said that.”

 

“Nice going, Pheebs,” Prue said wryly.  “You just cursed our dinner.”

 

“Yeah,” Piper added, “probably any moment now, a warlock is gonna come bursting through the front door.”

 

“Oh, c’mon guys, give me a break…it’s not like every night we have to kick some demon’s or warlock’s ass, y’know.  Tonight, we are gonna have a nice, relaxing dinner…compliments of Piper, of course.”  Phoebe then narrowed her brown eyes resolutely at the eldest sister.  “And no ‘buts’ from you, Prue.”

 

Prue looked downcast momentarily before she glared at Phoebe, her own dark eyes meeting both of the sister’s gazes before her face broke into a tiny smile.  “Okay then, no buts.”  She then hesitated before adding, “You know, this really wasn’t necessary, but thanks anyway.”

 

The youngest Halliwell’s mischievous expression gave way to one of genuine concern as she crossed over and wrapped her arms around her elder sister. “Hey, that’s what sisters are for, Prue!”  She then pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment, before the inevitable question came tumbling out.  “So…anything new on the ‘Andy’ front?”

 

By “Andy”, of course, Phoebe had referred to Prue’s on-again, off-again relationship with her San Francisco police inspector boyfriend, Andy Trudeau.  The couple’s relationship had been on the rocks during the last few months, to say the least, until Andy had finally found out that Prue and her sisters Piper and Phoebe were three of the most potentially powerful (and in the eyes of many, among the most beautiful) witches in the world.  Unfortunately Andy, even with all the normal human evils he faced on a regular basis, didn’t appear ready to accept having a beautiful witch for a girlfriend whose purpose was to protect humanity from the depravations of various demonic creatures and entities. 

 

“No,” Prue muttered, still looking and feeling noticeably dejected. “No word.  Guess he still needs time to think it over, or…whatever.”

 

“Hey, he got that boss of yours off your case though, didn’t he?” Piper added, trying to be helpful as she added the finishing touches on the dinner.  She along with Phoebe had gotten used to Prue being the super-serious sister of the bunch, but seeing her like this still bugged them plenty.  “So that should mean something…right?”  Of course, Piper didn’t have much better luck with men, either.  She had a rather hopeless relationship with Leo Wyatt, a handsome gentleman who had appeared to the mundane world as a simple handyman but was in fact a guardian angel of sorts called a Whitelighter, of all things.  Then she recalled another time she’d spent with an unfortunate Chinese-American ghost who, if he’d been alive, would have stolen her heart as well.  And take Phoebe.  She’d been involved with some ne’er-do-well they had to protect from a cursed Egyptian urn. 

 

Piper snorted.  Why couldn’t she and her sisters find a nice, handsome, family-oriented guy like Andy’s partner, Morris, instead of falling for unattainable men?  Perhaps they really were doomed to follow in their Grams’ footsteps after all.

 

Before Piper could quietly meditate on the disaster that was her and her sisters’ love-life, or lack thereof, Prue interrupted her reverie.  “Well, yeah, that’s true.  He did get that royal bitch…I mean, boss of mine, Claire, off my back, though I don’t know for how long that can continue with the way she likes to dig her claws into everything.”  The other sisters couldn’t help but agree.  There was something to be said about a boss who could give Prue a serious challenge for the “Uberbitch of the Year Award” and whose tactics included her unceremonious attempt to fire the eldest sister over the phone of all things.

 

“Yeah, well, with her being such a bicca, she’s got hers coming to her, Prue, trust me,” Phoebe said with conviction.  Then she added as an afterthought, “Either that…or she just needs to get laid.”  That comment drew raised eyebrows from her sisters before she continued.  “Just a suggestion, but maybe you ought to try to look for a new job.  I mean, for an antiques business, that place seems to be crawling with assholes.  First Rex and Hannah, and now Claire…“

 

“Well, I can’t just up and leave and let everything I worked for at that company go to waste, Phoebe,” Prue snapped with an angry glint in her eyes.  She then narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at her sister.  “And, by any chance, have YOU found a job yet?”

 

“Okay, okay, let’s change the subject, shall we?” Phoebe noted with a sigh.  It was best not to allow Prue to start one of her infamous tirades if Phoebe wanted to live to see tomorrow. “Let’s get back to what we were discussing earlier. Piper’s right, Prue.  Andy’s not giving up on you.  I mean, with the truth spell and all, okay, he’s probably just a little freaked out, but…well, just give it time, all right?  Andy loves you, there’s no doubt about that.”

 

Prue’s eyes seemed to mist over slightly at those words, a part of her almost regretting that her sisters could still make her feel so emotional, before her youngest sister embraced her in a warm hug, followed by Piper, still wearing her apron.  “Thanks, guys,” Prue said quietly, before her eyes widened at the food that was still cooking on the stove.  “Uh, Piper…the dinner?”

 

Piper’s own eyes shot wide open again like a cartoon character before she turned around and hurriedly stirred the cooking food on the stove before shutting it off.  “Okay, dinner’s ready.”

 

“Finally!”  Phoebe said with glee just before the doorbell rang.  The perky brunette looked over at the clock and frowned.  “Wonder who that could be?”

 

“Maybe it’s a certain police inspector?” Piper said hopefully for her elder sister’s benefit.

 

“Sure…or maybe it’s Claire who’s decided to fire me anyway and do it in person,” Prue muttered sarcastically.

 

Phoebe rolled her eyes to the ceiling in resignation.  “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”  She then started for the door.

 

“Yeah, you do that,” Prue said, before she smirked and added coyly, “It’s so nice that you’re useful again; perhaps it’s the beginning of a new trend.”

 

Phoebe looked over her shoulder and took a moment to stick out her tongue, before she crossed into the foyer and approached the door.  She peeped through the stained glass window and was pleasantly surprised at who was there standing patiently outside…

 

“Rhiannon, hi!”  Phoebe exclaimed, beaming as she opened the door to welcome the owner of Rhiannon’s Mystical Emporium.  “What a surprise!  What brings you here?”  She had met the exceptionally beautiful Welsh woman a few days earlier when she’d been shopping on Haight Street, looking for a reputable place where she could find some decent Wiccan supplies at low prices, without attracting too much attention.  The lady had been quite friendly and very helpful as well as discreet, something Phoebe wasn’t sure she could expect considering she’d dealt with few very few other witches. Well, other than the one girl she’d met, Aviva, who as it turned out had been used as a pawn by a demonic entity.  Phoebe tried to chase all that away in her mind as she turned her attention back to the lady standing before her.

 

Rhiannon Cathcart’s own beautiful face seemed to become even lovelier, if that were possible, as she smiled warmly at Phoebe.  “Hello, Phoebe, I’m sorry to disturb you but the herbs you ordered have arrived,” she said, gesturing to a large brown bag she held for emphasis, “And I just happened to be in the neighborhood.  Is this a bad time?”

 

“Oh, well…no, not at all.”  Phoebe held the door open for Rhiannon and indicated with a wave of her hand to enter, which she did, her every step graceful like a dancer’s and accentuated by the flowing silk dress she wore.  “Maybe you’d like to stay for a moment?  I mean, we’re about to have dinner, but…”

 

“Oh no, no, that’s quite alright, dear,” Rhiannon said, “I don’t wish to intrude on your supper.  I’ll just set this bag down here, and let you look through everything.  It all should be in order, but examine everything anyway, just to be safe.” 

 

As Phoebe bent over to look through the contents in the bag, Piper came breezing into the foyer from the kitchen, her apron removed and followed by an equally inquisitive Prue.  “Phoebe, who’s there?”  She then blinked and did a double-take along with Prue as they regarded the tall, beautiful blonde woman standing next to Phoebe.  “Oh…hi.  Can we help you?”

 

Phoebe hurriedly stood up from where she’d been pulling out and inspecting the bag’s contents to introduce the Welsh woman to her sisters. “Oh, Piper, Prue, this is Rhiannon Cathcart,” she said, gesturing to the tall blonde who nodded and smiled gracefully before extending her hand in a friendly gesture, which the two other sisters took in turn with a friendly, yet cautious manner.  “Rhiannon, this is Piper and…Prue, my sisters,” Phoebe said casually.  “Rhiannon owns a magic shop on Haight street.  She’s just dropping off some herbs for us.”

 

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Piper and Prue,” the blonde woman said in her soft, lilting Welsh accent.  “And by all means, call me Rhiannon. Might I add that you have a very lovely home?”

 

Piper quietly studied the woman with a curious expression for a moment before she chirped, “Thanks.  Nice to meet you. Yeah, the house has been in the family for awhile now, more than a hundred years actually.”

 

Prue’s face became marred with a suspicious frown.  “Magic shop?” the elder sister parroted in an inquiring voice.

 

“Well, yeah,” Phoebe said with a shrug.  “I told her we were into Wicca and basically needed some herbs and such.  She’s been pretty helpful.”

 

“Indeed, your sister is quite an inquisitive one,” Rhiannon added with a smile. “I would wager that she’s one of the more bright-eyed customers I’ve seen in my shop lately…”

 

“Well, yeah, that’s nice,” Prue cut her off, bringing a frown to Rhiannon’s face. “Phoebe, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a moment?”  The elder sister’s narrow-eyed expression brooked no room for arguments.

 

Phoebe cringed inwardly.  Oh shit, here we go. “Prue…this isn’t a good time right now.  We have a guest!” she added too brightly.

 

“NOW.”

 

Phoebe sighed to herself before turned to face Piper.  “Hey, Piper, uh, would you mind checking over the rest of the contents with the list here?”  She thrust a piece of paper into Piper’s hands, bringing a questioning look to the middle sister’s face before Prue unceremoniously grabbed Phoebe’s arm and started pulling her toward the kitchen.  “Uh, be right back, Rhiannon,” she said hurriedly before she was dragged out of sight.

 

Once they were in the kitchen Prue whirled on Phoebe, the expression on her face livid.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” she hissed.  “Going and babbling to a complete stranger about us and what we are!  Jesus, Phoebe, why don’t you just take out an ad in the classified section and shout out to the whole world that we’re witches, for Chrissakes!”

 

Phoebe glared back at her sister. “Whoa there, Prue!  Let’s just derail that train of thought, okay?” she said, holding up her hands for emphasis.  “I didn’t tell her that we’re witches, all right?  I just said we’re into Wicca, that’s all. I figured that we needed to get stuff for the various spells listed in the Book of Shadows from someplace, and her place looked like the best bet.  I mean, she seems to really be into Wicca too…in fact I think she might actually be a witch herself. But she’s not in any way ‘out there’ like some people are.  And she’s been pretty helpful…”

 

“But you don’t even know who she is!” Prue said angrily, her face beginning to turn that infamous shade of crimson.  “For god’s sake, she could be another demon or something for all we know! And I don’t think I need to tell you how many of those types we’ve already had barge into this house!”

 

Phoebe sighed in resignation.  “Look, Prue, maybe we just need to start to look outside the box, you know? Pull back on the paranoia a little.  It’d be nice if we could find at least ONE other person we could talk about Wicca stuff with.  Just Wicca, okay?  We don’t need to tell her we’re really witches.”  Prue just continued to glare at Phoebe, behooving the youngest sister to add in a pleading voice.  “Prue, just trust me on this, okay?”

 

Prue seemed to think about that momentarily before she narrowed her eyes again.  “Trust you?!  Right, sure, just like when you trusted Clay and he used you to attempt to sell off that cursed Egyptian urn, or like when you brought Aviva into our house and she damn near killed us?”

 

This time Phoebe’s face clouded over with anger.  “Okay, Prue, you know what?  If you wanna keep harping on me for all my screw-ups, fine, but don’t start ragging on me because of your own problems with Andy, all right?”

 

Fortunately for Phoebe, the Charmed Ones were unable to use their powers against one another because Prue looked like she could both chew and spit glass.  “Now you listen to me, you little…this has nothing to do with Andy—”

 

“Pheebs…Prue?” Piper queried from the foyer.  “Uh, is everything okay in there?”

 

Prue sighed noisily, gathered herself, and responded.  “Yes, everything’s fine.”

 

Piper hesitated for a moment before she said, “Okay.  I just wanted to let Phoebe know that everything on her list seems to be all here.”

 

A moment of tension hung between the eldest and youngest Halliwell sisters that was so thick one could almost cut it with a knife.  “We’ll talk more about this later, Phoebe,” Prue said in a tone that implied she meant it, before turning on her heel and marching back to the foyer.  Sighing and muttering to herself in disgust, the young brunette blew a wisp of brown hair away from her lovely face before she reluctantly followed her oldest sister back to where Piper had been looking through the various herbs with Rhiannon.

 

“Whoa, I definitely don’t wanna be cooking with some of these herbs,” Piper said dryly as she studied two jars in particular that held freshly-cut stems and leaves of belladonna and hemlock.

 

“No, I wager you wouldn’t,” Rhiannon replied lightly. “Unless you were looking for a one-way ticket to the afterlife, that is.”  She then brought her nose up for a moment to sniff the delicious aroma wafting out from the kitchen.  “My, that smells heavenly.  Pardon my curiosity, but I noticed the apron you were taking off when you came into the foyer.  By chance are you the one who’s cooking dinner?”

 

Piper casually shrugged her shoulders and offered a little smile of her own. “Yep, that’s me!  I usually tend to be the head cook of the household and all.  Um, I wouldn’t say I’m anything like Emeril Lagasse, but I manage.”

 

Rhiannon chuckled ruefully and shook her head.  “Oh no, dear, I’m sure you’re a much better cook than me.  Don’t misunderstand, I love my native country of Wales, but…there is something to be said about our choice of cuisine,” she added with a slight blush.

 

Piper raised an inquisitive eyebrow.  “Wales, huh?  That’s pretty neat.  By chance have you—“

 

“Well, we’re sorry to keep you here waiting and all,” Prue interrupted rather quickly in a stern voice, “But thanks for dropping this stuff off, however misguided Phoebe can get sometimes.  So, now if you’ll excuse us, we have other things to attend to,” she finished with her arms crossed against her chest, her dark eyes coolly regarding the woman from Wales and temporarily ignoring the frown that her baby sister shot her way.

 

Rhiannon shot an equally frosty look of her own back at the elder sister, apparently unimpressed by her bitchy demeanor. She rested her hands on her shapely hips that were accentuated by her silk dress.  “Excuse me…Prue, is it?”  Rhiannon asked in a calm voice.

 

“Prudence,” the raven-haired woman corrected with a deadly smile that reminded one of a cobra’s. 

 

“Well, Prue,” Rhiannon went on, ignoring Prue’s correction in a manner that nearly caused her to gnash her teeth, “If I may be a bit forthcoming, I fail to understand what you mean by your sister being ‘misguided’.  She only came into my shop looking for items to aid her in her interest with Wicca and witchcraft, that’s all.”

 

“Yeah, well, my sister tends to get herself in things that are way over her head sometimes.  So, now if you’ll kindly leave—“

 

“Hey, Prue,” Phoebe cut in, her normally beautiful face morphing into a bitchy look of her own, “Excuse me, no offense, but I don’t need you making the decisions for me, okay?  All I did was—“

 

“Later, Pheebs,” Prue snapped, cutting off her sister in mid-sentence.  She then turned her gaze back to Rhiannon, who hadn’t budged an inch from where she stood.

 

“Your sister IS right, you know,” Rhiannon said calmly, “she is more than capable of making her own decisions.  I rather fail to see why you continue to insist on second-guessing her.”

 

“EXCUSE ME?” Prue hissed, appearing for all the world like a panther who was about to jump on Rhiannon and tear her apart with her claws.  “Who the hell do you think you are barging into this house and butting yourself into our personal affairs?  I don’t recall inviting you.”

 

“Correction, dear, I was let into this house by one of your sisters,” Rhiannon said coldly as her emerald eyes almost seemed to be literally ablaze as she continued her staredown of the elder sister.  “And I just happen to be a woman who sees nothing wrong with Wicca or witchcraft, and certainly nothing wrong with any woman who wishes to explore it.  I DO however, have a problem with you, dear, and your particular attitude.  Are you this boorish towards everyone, or does it come rather naturally?”

 

Prue took several steps toward Rhiannon and locked her dark, deadly orbs with Rhiannon’s own emerald ones as her lovely lips flashed an ice-cold smile.  “Actually, it’s something I keep warm and special for bitches such as your—“

 

“Ladies!”  Piper said in a tone keeping with her namesake, albeit a bit too brightly as she literally got in between Prue and Rhiannon.  “Well, this has been interesting, but it’s getting late and I think it’s time we all went our separate ways, right, Prue?” Demons, witches, or just plain bitches, whatever the case happened to be, the Halliwell’s middle sister wasn’t going to let any feuding spoil whatever remained of the nice, pleasant dinner she’d planned for her sisters all day.  She gave her elder sister a potent glare of her own to accentuate the real meaning of her words.

 

Prue looked almost ready to belt out something else at Rhiannon, but something in Piper’s own gaze brought that thought to a screeching halt as she decided to bite her tongue instead.  The middle sister then whirled around, whipping her chestnut hair about as she turned to regard Rhiannon with a courteous smile on her lips, though her dark eyes seemed to flash a warning of their own.  I’m watching you.  Don’t try anything you’ll regret…

 

The Welsh woman seemed to take the hint in stride, and nodded without missing a beat.  “Yes, of course.  Well, I suppose I mustn’t tarry here any further.  My sincerest apologies for catching you all at such an awkward time.  But it was a pleasure to see you again Phoebe, as well as meeting you Piper, and…Prue.”  She then turned to walk toward the door then stopped as if to think for a moment.  She glanced over at Phoebe who stood nearby and asked, “Oh, Phoebe, won’t you be coming to the Beltane festival this Friday night?”

 

The perky brunette casually shrugged, pretending not to notice the inquisitive expressions from Piper and Prue.  “Sure, sounds like a date.  7:00 p.m., McLaren Park, right?”

 

Rhiannon smiled widely.  “Right.  Well, wonderful then!  But by all means don’t come alone.  Why don’t you bring Piper and Prue as well?”

 

Phoebe’s expression seemed to change almost instantly from “eager-beaver” to “uh-oh” as she noticed the raised eyebrow from Piper and the death glare from Prue.  Taking a moment to chew on her bottom lip a bit nervously, the youngest sister stammered, “Well, I don’t know, maybe…”

 

“Splendid!” Rhiannon purred, “So it’s a date then, as you would say.  Friday at 7:00 p.m. it shall be.  I’ll be looking forward to seeing you all there…especially you, Prue,” she added with a ghost of a smirk before she smoothly wafted through the door as though she were a breeze of air and into the night.

 

Phoebe quietly shut the ornate oak door and stood there for a moment, quietly studying the inlaid stained glass window panes before she turned to regard her sisters, who were gawking at her.

 

“Beltane…” Piper began in an incredulous voice.

 

“Ritual?” Prue finished in an interrogative tone.

 

“Okay, okay, look,” Phoebe began, holding up her hands for emphasis in an effort to forestall the drilling that was about to come.  “Basically, the local Wicca groups are holding their annual Beltane ritual Friday night at McLaren Park.  And I just thought, you know, maybe it would be another good way to start learning a little more about the Craft, and…you know,” she ended, feeling a little uncertain…and not unlike that one time when she’d been six and Grams had caught her stealing chocolate from the candy jar.

 

“And you were gonna tell us this when, exactly?” Prue growled.

 

“Well, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Phoebe countered with a sigh. “Look, Prue, Piper, it’s not such a big deal, okay?  I mean, Beltane is basically a fertility ritual where…”

 

“Yeah, yeah, boys and girls dance around a maypole and afterwards they get all horny and boink each other, we know,” Piper finished, then noticed the looks she was getting from her other sisters. “What?  It’s in the Book of Shadows.  I read about it.”

 

“Sounds like you were reading pretty closely if you ask me, Piper,” Phoebe added with a devilish grin.

 

“Very closely,” Prue added dryly.

 

Piper muttered something under her breath and rolled her eyes to the ceiling.  “Look, whatever, okay?  Let’s refocus on what we were discussing.  That is, assuming we’re discussing, not fighting.”  She then looked at Phoebe and Prue expectantly.

 

Phoebe looked ready to say something before Prue beat her to it.  “Phoebe,” she began in her trademark stern tone of voice, though her eyes did seem somewhat softer than before, “You have got to be more careful with what you’re doing and who you talk to, because god knows how many demons and warlocks are out there and after us, and…goddamit, will you look at me?!” Phoebe’s attention had drifted off somewhat, her eyes studying the picture of Grams nearby before she turned her full attention to her elder sister with a bit of surprise.  Undaunted, Prue continued.  “How much do you even really know about this Rhiannon, or her business, or what people she deals with, or this Beltane ritual for that matter?”

 

“Okay okay, so I, or we don’t know that much about her, but so far, she seems to be okay.  She hasn’t shown any inkling that she’s some crazy bitch that’s gonna fry us or whatever, yet anyway.  And the Beltane ritual is legit, like I said.  Unfortunately it’s also popular with some of the local church groups…in a not-so-nice kinda way.  But either way, Prue, it would be nice to actually branch out just a little and meet some like-minded people, okay?  Not necessarily witches, just people into Wicca and stuff.”

 

“Sure, it’s great for them as long as people aren’t dying around them,” the elder sister retorted acidly.

 

Phoebe sighed in disgust. “Prue…”

 

“Actually, going to this Beltane ritual might not be a bad thing,” Piper spoke up, deciding once again it was up to her to play “peacemaker” between her two feuding sisters.  “Like Phoebe said, it would be nice to meet some like-minded people and perhaps share some information, learn a little more about the Craft.  And,” she looked pointedly at Prue before continuing, “considering that this is a pagan gathering, it might actually be a tempting target for some demon types as well.  So maybe we should go check out this place just to make sure no warlocks or whatever are gonna try to crash the party.”

 

Prue looked at her for a long moment, before letting her shoulders sag slightly, appearing as though she was cooling off her “super-bitch engine,” for the moment, anyway.  Prue silently mused to herself that the middle sister always did seem to have a rather uncanny talent for keeping the peace in the Halliwell home at times.  Her thoughts then drifted back to the situation at hand.  “Okay…we’ll all go to the Beltane ritual this Friday.”

 

“Yay, Prue!” Phoebe said gleefully, almost jumping on her feet as she regarded her sister with a mischievous expression. “And maybe we’ll find some hunky hotties to hang with while we’re there, eh?”

 

“But,” Prue interjected with a raised finger.  “Let’s be careful.  Especially with this…Rhiannon woman.” She nearly said the name in disgust, bringing some raised eyebrows from her sisters.  “Until we know for certain who she is…let’s NOT have another situation like Aviva, okay?”  She pointedly glared at her youngest sister as she uttered those last words.

 

Phoebe nodded in resignation. “Sure, okay, whatever you say, Prue.”  Then, noticing Prue’s stern expression, her face became more serious.  “It’s cool, Prue, I understand, okay?  Hey, dinner’s getting cold, let’s eat!”  With apparently no more to say, Phoebe sauntered into the kitchen, followed moments later by an amused Prudence.

 

Piper was the last to follow, as she silently thought for a moment how it never ceased to amaze her how they managed to stick so close together despite all the differences they shared.  She then thought again about her unofficial job as peacekeeper of the Halliwell manor before she snorted.  Gee, as if my normal job AND being a witch isn’t enough.  Being the middle sister really does suck sometimes. And with that, she walked back into the kitchen to rejoin her sisters as they prepared to have a nice, quiet dinner together…

 

#

 

In a parallel dimension, hidden from the view of the Halliwells by the way and means of magick, Rhiannon floated by one of the windows, invisible as she finished listening to the sisters’ conversation with a bemused expression on her face.

 

“Well, this is certainly going to be fun,” she mused aloud as she tapped her chin thoughtfully.  Her lovely face then broke into a smirk, as she coalesced into sparkles of energy and faded away.

 

#

 

Somewhere, sometime in another place...

 

Jenny Calendar’s eyelids slowly flickered open to find that she was lying on a grassy meadow, covered in a soft animal skin blanket.  Above her she did not see the ceiling of her home, but rather the twinkling night sky, lit by the silvery sphere of the moon that was barely concealed by a multitude of thick tree branches.

 

“Oh boy,” she whispered.  She slowly rose and, finding that she was still nude, held the soft blanket to her chest as she scanned her surroundings.  She appeared to be in a small clearing, surrounded by huge, moss-covered trees with trunks bigger than she had ever seen, reaching up into the night sky almost as if to touch the stars themselves.  Moonlight filtered through the thick foliage, casting faint beams of light that revealed a deep forest that seemed to stretch on for eternity.  She inhaled the cool moist-laden scent of the forest, while her ears caught the faint chirping of crickets, the hooting of owls, and the scuffling of deer hooves through the forest. 

 

“Okay, “ she drawled to herself out loud, “since the Sunnydale forest doesn’t have trees anywhere this tall, I guess it means I’m no longer in Sunnydale, or to paraphrase Dorothy, I’m no longer in Kansas, Toto.”  Her brow furrowed.  This had to be a dream…or something else was going on.  She certainly hoped it wasn’t the beginning of a nightmare.  “Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that chocolate cake after all,” she sighed.

 

“You are dreaming,” a husky, ancient-sounding female voice called out to her.

 

Jenny whirled around, the blanket still clutched tightly to her bosom, and saw, standing before her, dressed in hunting leathers and armed with a bow, Artemis, the Greek Goddess of the Hunt and Moon.  Moonlight pooled around the tall, regal Goddess, highlighting her chestnut hair and powerful shoulders as she regarded her spiritual daughter with a warm, yet enigmatic smile.

 

The gypsy felt at that moment as though she were in a cathedral and witnessing an epiphany, as she gazed momentarily in awe at the holy vision before her.  She then fell to her knees and bowed reverently to the Goddess before her.  “Lady Goddess,” she whispered in a respectful tone, her voice full of awe.  “This…this is a dream?”

 

“If that is what you wish to call it…yes,” she answered softly, as she strode proudly toward the gypsy Amazon, her leather armor and sword rustling faintly with each step.  When she had reached Jenny’s side, Artemis gently laid a hand on the Amazon witch’s bare shoulder, causing a warm, tingling sensation to course through her body. “Rise,” she commanded softly.

 

The Amazon witch obliged, taking a moment to affectionately regard her spiritual mother.  “Lady Goddess, please excuse my curiosity, but how can this be a dream? It feels so real.”

 

“It would depend on your definition of ‘real,’ Jennifer,” the Greek Goddess offered gently.  “A dream can be as real as your mind, or your astral self for that matter, wishes to perceive it so.”  She gestured toward the forest and the tall foliage parted by itself as though the plants were alive, revealing a path before them.  “Come, daughter,” she commanded softly, “The moon is bright and the woods beckon us…let us hunt.”

 

The gypsy hesitated for a moment.  A hunt?  She then looked down at the blanket she held clutched in her hands.  “Um, no offense, Lady Goddess, but I think I’m a bit underdressed for a hunting trip,” she said, blushing prettily.

 

“Ah yes…of course,” the Huntress said.  She smiled and made an easy wave of her hand. Instantly, the blanket shifted in Jenny’s hands and almost seemed alive as it wrapped itself around Jenny’s body, the soft material growing snug against her skin and reforming itself.  Before she could even have time to gasp, the blanket she had worn was gone and in its place was a leather bodice, leather skirt and boots, similar to what the Goddess of the Hunt wore.

 

The Goddess appraised Jenny for a moment, while the Amazon gazed in wonder at the leather outfit she now wore.   Artemis then nodded, and a sword set within a leather scabbard with a belt appeared in her hand, which she offered to the Amazon.  “This is a hunt, daughter, so you shall require a weapon,” she noted softly.

 

Jenny stared at the weapon momentarily then hesitantly took the sword from the Goddess. With a faint hiss she drew the blade momentarily from its scabbard to inspect it, the light from the moon glinting along its polished razor edges.  With a nod she attached the weapon to her waist and followed the Goddess into the forest, her eyes and ears alert, although still curious as to why the Goddess had brought her here tonight.  Moonlight continued to cast beams and shadows through the trees and dimly illuminate the leafy vegetation and mossy rocks of the forest floor.  After several minutes of walking within the forested dreamscape, Jenny allowed her curiosity to get the better of her and felt she needed to ask the Goddess what exactly was going on.  “Begging your pardon, Lady Goddess, but why are we here?  What are we hunting, exactly?”

 

The Goddess raised a finger to her lips.  “Hush,” she commanded quietly, “and listen.”  Jenny focused on her hearing and caught a faint rustle nearby in the dense foliage.  She turned in the direction of the sound, her hand reaching for her sword then saw a glimpse of white through the thick leaves.  Moments later, the source of the sound slowly pranced into view. 

 

A tall, majestic white stag emerged from the trees, an elegant array of horns crowning its head.    Its magnificent white coat, rippling with muscles, stood in stark contrast to the dark green hues of the forest.  It stood amongst the forest vegetation, proud and erect as it regarded the Huntress and the Amazon with dark yet innocent eyes.  Jenny gazed upon the magnificent creature, awed by its majesty, until out of the corner of her eye she noticed the Huntress swiftly draw an arrow from a quiver on her back and notch it onto the string of her bow.

 

“Lady Goddess, what are you—“

 

Jenny’s question was interrupted when she heard another rustling sound behind her, accompanied by a low, animalistic growl.  As the Amazon spun around, her sword flashing as she instinctively drew it from its scabbard, a dark, large shape appeared from the foliage.  Jenny’s eyes opened wide when she saw a humungous, growling dark-furred wolf that almost looked like the Guardian spirit Duke’s evil twin.  The canine creature glared menacingly at the Amazon who realized she stood between it and its chosen prey.  Before she had time to think, the large wolf tensed then lunged at Jenny.

 

The gypsy only had enough time to roll to the side as the wolf flashed by, its claws barely missing her as it tried to rend Jenny’s throat.  The Amazon thrust her sword upward into an arc as she dodged the lunging wolf and slashed its hide.  Droplets of blood flickered into the air as the wolf howled in rage and pain.  The creature landed back on the earth with a thud and turned with a painful limp, its eyes now filled with bloodlust as it regarded the woman who had dared come between it and the stag.  Jenny stood fast, her feet firmly planted as she warily regarded the huge dire wolf.  The creature growled and, despite the pain, prepared to pounce again before an arrow flew past the Amazon and landed straight and true into its hide, causing the creature to jerk, howl, and whimper in pain before falling to the ground.

 

The computer teacher looked over her shoulder and found the Greek Goddess, who had already drawn another arrow and notched it into the bowstring.  With an eyebrow raised, she said, “Nice shot, Lady Goddess!”  The Huntress simply nodded in response.

 

The Amazon glanced at the white stag and was surprised to find it was still standing there, continuing to watch her with its innocent eyes.  Jenny drew a deep breath and warily approached within a foot of the fallen dire wolf with her sword at the ready, half expecting the creature to rise up at any given moment…

 

The creature’s eyes suddenly opened, its head jerked, and its jaws snapped at the female who had wounded it.  Jenny gritted her teeth and brought her sword downward in a sweeping arc, cleaving the head from its body in a splash of blood that spattered the gypsy’s boots.  The Amazon took a breath after assuring herself that the wolf was certainly not getting back up this time.  She looked over and noticed that the stag had finally decided to prance away and disappear into the forest.  She then looked back again at the gore-splattered corpse at her feet.  When she spied the creature’s dismembered head, she suddenly felt a pang, a memory of something that had occurred not long ago…

 

Alexi.

 

Jenny quickly turned away from the carnage with a sharp intake of breath.  Then she glared sharply at Artemis who regarded her calmly.  “With all due respect, what’s this all about, Lady Goddess?  I thought mind games were beneath you.”

 

“Jenny,” the Goddess said with a sigh, “I certainly did not bring you here to…play games with you, as you would say.  I wish to talk to you about the events that transpired a month ago.”

 

Jenny looked back at the Goddess, as an aching pain began to show in her eyes in the form of unshed tears.   “Why?  What is it that I did wrong, Lady Artemis?  What else could I have done?  I was faced with a terrible choice…and I made it.  I knew what had to be done…but for God’s sake, he was my cousin!”  The tears now flowed freely from Jenny’s eyes as she could no longer inwardly bear the pain.  “Alexi…before he was consumed by his own hate, was a hero to me.  He…he represented everything that was good and honorable in my tribe, he…he was almost like…” The gypsy then closed her eyes and wiped her face, unable to say any more.

 

The Goddess’s own eyes misted over as she witnessed the pain that dwelt within the Amazon.  She gently brought her daughter into a hug and whispered to her.  “Jenny, I know you have been carrying this burden for some time now.  I also know that you have been reluctant to share it with your sisters.  Why is that, daughter?”

 

After the gypsy had wiped the tears from her face, she looked at the Goddess with a face etched with both sorrow and frustration.  “You don’t understand, Artemis…it’s because my sisters…Cordelia, Amy, Willow…they look up to me.  I don’t want to burden them with my own problems.  I admit I don’t always feel comfortable with how they consider me as their elder, but they do.  Willow particularly.  I know she considers me her mentor, but sometimes, when she looks at me, I know she sees me as something far more than that, almost like…” The final word was left unsaid.

 

“A mother,” Artemis offered gently. 

 

Jenny regarded her patron Goddess and quietly said, “I haven’t forgotten you can read minds.”

 

“I did not need to, Jenny.”

 

The gypsy sighed.  “But it’s more than just that.  I almost feel like…like they shouldn’t see me as their sister.”

 

The Greek Goddess peered intensely at Jenny, her deep brown, ancient eyes unblinking as she met the gypsy’s own.  “And why is that?”

 

Jenny half-expected to find fury or disappointment in her Goddess’ eyes.  Instead, she found compassion in them.  The tears began to form in the Amazon’s eyes again before she spoke.  “Because I betrayed them once, Lady Goddess, remember?  I was the one who hid things from them, who lied to all of them…even Rupert.”  Jenny blinked the tears away, silently vowing that she wasn’t going to cry again, before continuing.  “And I hate living with that.  But now look at me…I’ve killed my cousin, I’ve been banished from my clan…my clan now won’t acknowledge that I even EXIST!”  The dark beauty took a short pause to breathe and wipe the tears from her cheeks.  “How can they even accept me as a sister when it seems I’ve done almost everything that’s unbecoming of one?”

 

“Jenny,” the Goddess spoke softly as she stroked Jenny’s cheeks with a strong, yet gentle hand, “you more than anyone know that there are no perfect beings in this universe.  I wish I could say otherwise, but not even we, the Gods, are perfect.  We too, have done things in the past that we…regret,” she noted sadly, her eyes misting with the pain of an old, bitter memory.  A haunted look played briefly across the Huntress’ face before she shook it off and gave her Chosen a sad smile.  “You only performed what you felt was your sacred duty for your clan when you came to Sunnydale.  Later, after you became one of my Chosen, you were forced into a confrontation where your only choice was to either defend or abandon the Slayer.  Everyone, even the Gods, must make difficult decisions, never knowing what the true consequence, right or wrong, may be.”  The Goddess paused for a moment before she added, “But Jenny, know this; for every door that is closed…another one is always opened.”

 

The Amazon blinked. “What are you saying?”

 

A Mona-Lisa smile then graced the face of the Huntress.  “I mean to say that despite the tragedies and heartbreak you have endured during this particular journey, there is now a new path in your future that awaits you, if you so wish to follow it.  That is also why I have come to you this evening, daughter.  I have a task for you, as well as a warning.”

 

Jenny quietly regarded her patron Goddess.  “I’m listening.”

 

The Huntress nodded then continued.  “As you know, the festival of Beltane is almost upon us.  This is when the energies of the Earth gather to be reborn anew.  And as I understand, you will be officiating at the ceremony.”

 

“Well…yes.”

 

The Goddess smiled.  “And that is where my task for you lies, Jenny.  My link to your world, as you may or may not know, is still relatively weak.  Your prayers, and the prayers of others that still remember me, are slowly restoring my ties to the earthly plane.  However, to truly rekindle my connection to your world, the ritual must take place…and you will be the one to help reestablish that link, my daughter.

 

Jenny’s jaw dropped slightly when she considered the implications of the task the Goddess had laid before her.  She inwardly gulped before replying, “Lady Goddess, how?  How exactly do you wish me to perform this task?”

 

Artemis held up a hand in reply.  “Before I reveal that to you, I must give you a warning, daughter…there are forces now in motion amongst the Darkness, sinister forces that have sensed the return of the Old Gods, including me, to this plane.  They will stop at nothing to prevent this from occurring, including trying to prevent you or your sisters from reestablishing my link.”  The Goddess’s eyes narrowed as she continued. “In fact, they may already have their own plans in motion.  That is why you must be willing to trust and have faith in your friends, your beloved, the Slayer, and your sisters, now more than ever, daughter.”

 

The gypsy grew silent as she thought about the Goddess’s warning, of what the implications could be…and then came to her decision.  “So, how shall I perform the task you have placed before me, Lady Goddess?”

 

Artemis smiled. “So, you will accept this responsibility?”

 

The Amazon witch nodded resolutely and looked eye-to-eye with the Greek Goddess.  “Yes, my Lady…I will perform this honor to the best of my abilities.”

 

The Huntress nodded.  “Of that, I am certain, Jennifer.”  She then brought up her hand again, with her palm facing the sky.  Suddenly within her palm a light appeared.  It seemed no bigger than a tiny speck, almost like stardust.  The single speck of light shone and glittered with an impossibly bright glow that bathed both women in brilliant, golden light.  The gypsy Amazon was mesmerized by the light’s hypnotic brilliance, almost losing herself within its depths as it cast shafts of radiance into her dark almond-shaped eyes and across her sensual face.  Then she blinked several times and returned her gaze to the Goddess.  “Lady Artemis, what is this?”

 

“Many creatures, both mortals and Gods, forget that sometimes, faith can be born, and even renewed from the most infantile speck, the smallest seed, the faintest glimmer of hope.”  Her voice grew softer as she continued, the tiny sphere of golden light continuing to shimmer in the palm of her hand.  “Such a seed, if carefully nurtured, may blossom into a new hope for the world.”  The Goddess then raised her palm and brought it to Jenny, causing the gypsy’s eyes to grow wide and her heart to race with excitement.  However, she did not flinch as the light in Artemis’s hand came to rest just an inch away from the center of Jenny’s bosom.  “Jennifer Calendar, you shall become the vessel for this seed, which you will take back to your world.  You shall use this gift I bestow upon you to reestablish my connection with your world, and thus you shall be forever linked to me.  This light, this smallest part of my essence, I bestow upon you, my daughter.”  With that, the Goddess placed her hand over Jenny’s breasts.  The light shimmered and danced across Jenny’s skin momentarily, before entering her body and penetrating into her very soul…

 

The gypsy witch suddenly arched her back.  Her eyes closed, as her entire body stiffened with an indescribable ecstasy that filled her entire body.  It felt like powerful electricity was suddenly coursing through her spine, through every nerve ending and into her brain, and the only thought that her suddenly addled mind had time to process was that it reminded her of when she had first been Chosen by the Greek Goddess, before the brilliance consumed her entire being…

 

Oh…my…GODDESS!!!  Her soul screamed with joy as she was flooded with divine energy, her entire body now aglow with brilliant, blinding light.  Her eyelids snapped open, revealing two glowing orbs of golden light.  The power she felt coursing through her veins, her heart, her mind, her soul was indescribable!  Her head arched back and the gypsy mouthed a silent cry of pure exhilaration as the divine light continued to merge with her own essence.  The energy brimmed and finally burst from every pore in her body as it shaped and reformed her, changing her forever…

 

And then just as the light had finished reaching to every last corner of her body, mind and soul, she felt herself becoming light as air and floating away, falling away from the forest and back to the realm of her world.  As she felt her astral self return to her realm of existence, she heard the voice of her Goddess call out: “And now daughter, return to your world. Be reborn anew, and begin your new journey…”

 

#

 

Sunnydale High School

English Literature Class

Sunnydale, California

April 30, 1998

08:26 PST

 

A flash of raven-black hair among the rush of students entering the room drew Willow’s attention away from the conversation she shared with Amy.  Willow glanced up and saw Patty Driscoll scoot past Amy, Cordelia, and her as the brunette headed for the far side of the classroom.

 

“Patty!”  Willow called out.  The taller girl stopped short and hesitated for a moment before she turned to face the little red witch.

 

“Willow,” Patty said, her tone frosty.

 

“We saved you a seat,” Willow offered brightly.

 

Patty shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she stood, fidgeting.  “You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”

 

A confused look crossed Amy’s face.  “It’s no trouble, Patty.  You always sit with us.”

 

“Yeah, well...” she paused for a moment then narrowed her eyes at the three girls.  “I don’t like to hang out where I’m not wanted.”

 

Cordelia closed her book, tossed it down on her desk, and cocked a well-groomed eyebrow at Patty.  “All right…what’s eating you?”

 

“Look, you know I don’t hang with you guys after school because I have to look after my kid brother while my mom’s at work.  So I get that you guys share stuff that doesn’t involve me.  But last night, I came to the Bronze to get to know your friend Buffy better and got the brush off, both from you and her.  Now, if that’s the way it’s going to be, just tell me straight up, ‘cause I don’t need the aggravation, all right?”

 

A crestfallen Amy stared at Patty.  “We didn’t mean to make you feel like that.  It’s just…it’s…well…our lives are kind of complicated now.  And we do want you to get to know Buffy better…it’s just that, she’s got a lot of stuff on her plate.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Well,” Willow said, “she had some problems with her first boyfriend.  He kind of went a little psycho and all.  Although we think he’s left Sunnydale, he was involved with one of the large PCP gangs and they’ve targeted Buffy and her new boyfriend Steve.”

 

“Is that the hunky hottie who was with her, Mr. Giles and Ms. Calendar last night?”

 

“Yeah, that’s him,” Amy said.  “Oh, and sorry about that lame story Xander tried to feed you about the ‘cat.’  Buffy thought she saw one of her old boyfriend’s gang members at the Bronze, so she, Steve, Mr. Giles, and Ms. Calendar went outside to check it out and make sure he’d leave without causing any trouble.”

 

Patty gasped at that.  “Wow, isn’t that kind of dangerous for them to have tried to face one of those crazed guys down?”

 

Willow shook her head.  “Not for Steve or Mr. Giles.  Both of them are into martial arts and stuff and they’ve been teaching us how to defend ourselves because Angel, er…he’s Buffy’s ex, might have his gang get back at her by hurting us.  So a lot of our time after school has been spent training with them at Steve’s place.”

 

“Oh,” she said.  “I guess you’re right about the complications and all.”

 

“Maybe so,” Amy said, “but that still doesn’t let us off the hook for the way we made you feel.  You and I have been best friends since kindergarten, Patty.  We hurt your feelings and I’m really, really sorry about that.”

 

After both Cordelia and Willow also murmured their sincere apologies, Patty gave them all a tiny smile.  “That’s okay, guys.  Just don’t do it again, got it?”

 

Willow grinned brightly.  “Got it!”

 

Cordelia rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, yeah, we understand.  Don’t do it again…sure, right.  God, you’re such a drama queen!”  Then she opened her book and growled, “Now pipe down!  I want to finish this chapter before Miss Harker starts class.” 

 

At that moment, Patty noticed the title on the book’s cover.  “The Art of War?  What in the heck is that about?”

 

Cordelia spoke absent-mindedly as she continued reading.  “It’s a book on ancient and time-tested strategies to defeat your enemy in any situation.”

 

“Oh,” Patty said woodenly.  Then she caught a glimpse of the books that were on Willow and Amy’s desks, next to their textbook.  Patty spied the title Modern Magick on the spine of Willow’s book and The Field Guide to North American Monsters on the spine of Amy’s paperback.  She blinked rapidly several times then reached into her backpack, dug out her own extra-curricular reading, and mused, *and all I’ve got is this trashy Harlequin romance.*  Then she sighed inwardly and thought, *Man, I gotta get a better hobby!*

 

#

 

Buckland’s Antiques

San Francisco, California

April 30, 1998

08:45 PST

 

Prue Halliwell sat at the large oak desk in her office, trying to sort through a pile of faxes that sat on her desk alongside a steaming mug of coffee (“the breakfast of champions” as Phoebe had once sarcastically called it) on what was undoubtedly going to be another busy day, as usual.  Outside the sky was a cloudy yet glorious blue, allowing golden streams of sunshine to filter through the curtains into her office.  The elder sister frowned slightly, almost wishing she could be out enjoying it rather than being stuck in the damn office all day.  But business had to be done if she wanted her bi-weekly paycheck to keep flowing in.  She glared momentarily at the stack of papers on her desk, as though the faxes themselves were whispering to her that, yes, there was no escape, this was indeed her miserable life.  Prue closed her eyes and sighed.  Okay, now I’m starting to imagine the faxes are speaking to me.  Maybe it’s time for me to go and see a shrink…

 

“Ah, Prudence, there you are…not sleeping on the job, are you?”

 

Prue squeezed her eyelids even tighter and resisted the urge to belt out a reply as she heard the condescending voice of the most annoying, asshole boss this side of the Mississippi River: Claire Pryce.

 

The raven-haired woman opened her eyes again to look at the form of her boss standing in the doorway, dressed as usual in one of her power pinstripe suits with pumps, her face set in her usual “you-are-beneath-me” look as she regarded Prue.  Several documents were casually gripped in one of her hands, which from the look of things were probably intended for her.

 

“No, Claire,” Prue replied in a perfectly neutral tone, “just had something stuck in my eye, that’s all.”

 

Claire appeared for all the world as though she didn’t seem to care as she casually walked into Prue’s office.  “Really?  Well, I hope it’s nothing serious, Prue.  It would be a shame if you had yet another emergency to distract you from your duties,” she added in that ever-infamous tone of voice that made Prue’s skin crawl.  The elder sister fought to keep her cool as her boss handed her the documents she held. “These just came in today.  The MacPherson estate is coming up for auction, a very important one at that considering how large it is.  Of course, that means since it’s important to this business, it is now of the utmost importance to you.” As Prue began to page through the documents, her boss continued. “And since it is of such importance to you, it means you’ll get to work on this, now.”

 

Prue glanced up with an incredulous expression. “Now? With all due respect, Claire, I’ve still got several claims and items that need to be processed first.”

 

Claire narrowed her eyes at the raven-haired woman, any hints of a faux attempt at kindliness long gone as she sternly regarded Prue.  “Did I stutter, Prudence Halliwell?  Let me repeat myself:  You’ll get to work on this RIGHT NOW.”

 

The elder Halliwell sister, who was easily regarded by her two other sisters as the queen bitch of San Francisco, struggled mightily to keep her temper from flaring and giving the uberbitch a piece of her mind.  Claire just stood there momentarily, with a bit of a bemused expression in her eyes as though daring Prue to say something that she’d regret later.  After a moment passed, Prue nodded, albeit reluctantly.  “I’ll get to work on it right now.”

 

The boss smirked triumphantly.  “Good, I’m sure you will.”  She then turned and started walking for the door, paused, then turned sideways to regard Prue again.  “That is, of course, assuming your…sisters…don’t call you with another of their pressing matters.”

 

Something in Claire’s voice, how she had used the term “sisters”, as in regarding her sisters, caused something inside of Prue to snap.  She glared at her boss and said in an inquiring voice, “Excuse me?”

 

“You heard me,” Claire said, as she walked back slowly toward Prue’s office.  “Now, of course you have helped keep this auction house above water, Prue, even with all your lame excuses as of late, but don’t begin to think that I’m ever going to let you slip and slide through this business. If you truly wish to keep your job here at Buckland’s, Prue, I suggest you put out a MUCH stronger effort.”

 

“Wait just a moment, Claire,” Prue said, a note of anger now creeping into her voice.  “Just when have I ever been slacking off?  I have been handling every auction this house can manage and then some, and I think Inspector Trudeau already explained to you that in addition to all of that, I was helping him with a case—“

 

“And how utterly convenient that is, Prue,” Claire cut her off.  “You always seem to have an alibi whenever you’re off doing something else, when your focus is meant to be here.  You belong here, Prudence.  Or, wait, allow me to see if I can sum this up in a more effective sentence.”  She leaned over Prue’s desk with her hands resting on the polished oak, her eyes boring menacingly into Prue’s  “You belong here, because I own you.  When you’re here, you’ll do as you’re told, when you’re told, and how you’re told.  And I don’t really give a damn what your so-called ‘sisters’ might have to say about that.”  A cold smile then flashed across Claire’s face.  “Or that particular detective that just happened to waltz in here before.  Inspector Trudeau, is it?  Hmmm, I wonder, did you do…anything in particular to curry his favor, Prue?”

 

That last sentence did it for Prue. Slandering her sisters was bad enough, but the bullshit stopped when it came to her boyfriend Andy. The elder Halliwell slowly rose from her desk and glared eyeball-to-eyeball with her boss.  “Claire?”

 

“Yes?” she replied with an amused expression.

 

“I think there’s something you need to know,” she began, her “superbitch engine” now starting to churn. “But first, before that; you can do me and the rest of the world a favor by wiping that ass-puckered smile off what you call a face, right now.”

 

Claire blinked.  “Excuse me?”

 

Prue flashed a cobra-like smile of her own.  “Did I stutter, Claire?  What you need to know is that, like it or not , I am the one who has been busting her ass, day and night for this auction house to keep it up and running and help it turn a profit, thus keeping it from having to file bankruptcy.  Not you, Claire…ME.”  She stabbed her own chest with her index finger for emphasis.  “Me.  Now, with that out of the way, let’s just say for the record that I am fucking sick and tired of your condescending attitude, especially when it’s me that’s been doing all the work around here. So don’t you dare even think that I’m some sort of slacker when you damn well know it’s the exact opposite.”

 

The older woman’s momentary look of surprise was chased away as she narrowed her eyes at Prue.  “Well, I wouldn’t even worry about that then, Miss Prudence Halliwell, since as of now you can start cleaning out your desk, because you’re—“

 

Prue instantly brought up her palm within an inch of Claire’s face, bringing her tirade to a halt.  “Just a moment, Claire.  Since I’m actually feeling generous today, I’m gonna let you in on something before you say something you’ll regret. Let’s face facts, Claire; I more than anyone else in this city has the knowledge about antiques, their value and history, how to spot forgeries, how to successfully market and sell off these items and estates for a hefty profit, etc. etc. etc.  You, on the other hand…well, I do recall our first conversation not-all-that-long-ago where you confessed that you didn’t know spit about antiquities, just the bottom line.  Well, bottom line is this, Claire:  If you fire me now, you are gonna be short of the only person in this whole building who knows exactly what she’s doing and how to do it.  You are then going to be in a world of hurt because whoever you hire is not going to be able to carry your ass through, and on top of all that, you get to explain to the bank and it’s directors of how you fucked up and fired one of the few competent people in this company all because you decided to throw a little temper tantrum.”

 

Claire’s mouth dropped completely open as she absorbed Prue’s words.  The elder woman seemed to try to form a sentence but appeared lost as she found herself absorbing what the younger woman had just said.

 

“So…you had something you were going to say, Claire?  Something about my sisters, or Inspector Trudeau perhaps?”

 

The woman’s mouth shut, then gaped open, then shut again several times as she tried to come up with something, her eyes wide.  Prue on the other hand silently watched the spectacle with glee, wishing she had a camera.

 

“Well….ah,” Claire began uncertainly.  “Well…just do what you can then, Prue.  Ah, keep up the good work.” With that the older woman turned and, rather hurriedly, exited Prue’s office.

 

Prue gazed off into space for a moment, a benign smile forming on her red lips.  “Well,” she drawled to herself. “I never thought I was gonna do that.” She then turned her gaze back to the sun that was filtering through the window.  “I feel better actually,” she mused. “A whole lot better.”  With that she took a sip of coffee from her mug and sat down at her desk, beginning to quietly hum a tune as she went back to work.

 

Perhaps today was going to be a good day, after all…

 

#

 

Sunnydale High School

Sunnydale, California

09:31 PST

 

It was another weekday in Sunnydale as sophomores, juniors and seniors strolled the grounds of Sunnydale High School, getting caught up on the latest news and fidgeting with papers and books.   In the school’s inner courtyard, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, sporting a particularly tight-fitting dark blue workout outfit underneath a light jacket, patiently waited for her Watcher to appear when she caught sight of the rest of the Scoobies, minus Giles and Jenny.  She waved to them as they walked over to her. 

 

“Hey Buff, what’s up?” Xander queried, his mouth partially full as he munched on a “maple-walnut flavored” energy bar.  The teenager, dressed in his usual mismatched wardrobe, then frowned and tossed the energy bar into a trash bin.  “Blecchh, they should sue the guys that make these things for false advertising.  They should call ‘em ‘chalk-flavored’ energy bars.”

 

“Or better yet, how about not talking when you eat?  That is so yuck,” Cordelia grimaced, looking fashionable as usual in a fetching Catholic-schoolgirl style outfit that amply displayed her luscious figure and long legs.  Willow and Amy, both dressed in light, fashionable silk shirts and attractive slacks, also made “eww” faces in agreement with Cordelia’s observation.  Oz, in his own colorful laid-back attire, backed up his red-headed girlfriend with a smirk.

 

“Actually,” Amy said, “we fixed a potential problem that Xander caused for us.”

 

“What problem?”

 

“He told Patty something pretty lame about what you were doing last night, so we fixed it by telling her the cover story we’ve invented about PCP gangs and Angel being involved in one.”

 

“Thanks, Amy.  So, nothing else to report?” Buffy asked her friends, who all shook their heads in reply.  Their patrols last night had virtually found nothing else on the Hell Riders.  The visit to Willy the Snitch turned up dry as well, with the little weasel saying the only thing he’d heard (after a somewhat-subtle pyrotechnical display from Willow and Amy) was that his regular customers had heard about the Hell Riders coming to town, along with supposedly something else, and were choosing to lie low.  The Slayer frowned, wishing they’d turned up more information then realized what she’d just said.  “Did I just say ‘report’?  Oh, God,” she groaned, “I’m already starting to sound like Steve!”  The horror of it all!  She didn’t know what she feared most since first meeting Giles last year then Steve this year…turning into a She-Giles or a She-Commando.

 

“But that’s actually a good thing, right, Buffy?  It means he’s rubbing off on you,” Willow offered with a smirk.  The little red witch then frowned slightly when she thought further about it.  “Um, just as long as you don’t start saying stuff like ‘sir, yes sir’, or anything like that…”

 

Oz looked at his girlfriend with a ghost of a smile on his otherwise bland face.  “Well, good thing I’m the monosyllabic one of the group.”

 

The red-headed Wicca regarded her werewolf boyfriend thoughtfully for a moment.  “Hold on a minute there, mister.  You’re not the only one capable of guttural utterances, you know.  Sometimes, I even manage to growl now and then, normally when you’re doing the same,” she admitted.

 

The lead guitarist of “Dingoes Ate My Babies” got a quizzical look on his face.  “Will, I don’t growl…do I?”

 

“Well, you do whenever we…uhhhh.”  The little red witch’s complexion grew almost as red as her hair when she blushed.  “Um…never mind.”

 

There was snickering among the other Scoobies before Buffy said somewhat glumly, “Well, I have to admit I’d rather be satisfying my daily requirement of smoochies with my honey right about now than having to attend a meeting in the library with Mister-English-tea-and-stuffy-scones,” she finished in a mock English accent.  She was SO not looking forward to meeting the Watcher team, from what she heard was composed of Mr. Tweedledee and Mr. Tweedledum

 

“Don’t worry, Buff,” Will said in a reassuring tone, “we’ll back you up, through thick and thin.  No matter how stuffy or…English…these Watcher guys get with you, right guys?”  The rest of the gang more or less nodded their heads in agreement.

 

The Immortal Slayer managed a smile from the show of support by her friends.  “Thanks Will, and…thanks guys.” 

 

There was a moment of silence before Xander drawled “Ahhhh, can we get a group hug?  With just the ladies and me, I mean.  Because that does bring to mind some really interesting fantasies…OW!”  Xander yelped as Cordelia stomped on his toe.

 

Amy piped up, changing the subject. “Oh, hey, Will, were you able to purchase the other herbs we needed from the magic shop?”

 

“Yep,” the red witch’s smile returned.  “Everything’s looking a-okay for Beltane…except for that rain that’s supposed to hit us.” Willow frowned again at that thought. “Hope it doesn’t last too long.”  She then noticed the glum look that had returned to the Slayer’s pretty face.  “Buffy, you okay?”

 

“Oh, I’m fine.  I guess…well, what I mean is, I hope you guys are able to enjoy the ritual you’ve got planned.  I mean, if I was out, umm, picking daisies or something on a full moon night and it rained, that would suck to, or actually I mean…never mind.”  The Slayer quickly shut her mouth after realizing she was going into Babble Mode again.

 

Goddess, Willow thought, inwardly cringing.  I can’t believe we never thought that Buffy would feel left out.  “Hey, Buffy?  You know, this isn’t just an Amazon thing.  Why don’t you come along, too?”

 

The Slayer’s eyes widened at that, before she shook her head.  “Uh, you want ME to come along?  I mean…wow, that’s nice, Will.” The blonde thought for a moment, then frowned.  “But I don’t know if I can break away from patrol though.  I mean if I can’t go, it’s no big, I can just make a small offering to Artemis or something when I get home, or whatever.”

 

All the Amazons stared at Buffy, blinking before Cordelia said, “Whoa, wait a minute Little-Miss-Likes-To-Fight.  You’re praying to Artemis now?”

 

The Slayer’s cheeks turned an attractive shade of red.  “Well…yeah.  Er, didn’t I mention that to you guys before?”

 

“Um…” Amy drawled, glancing upwards with a mock perplexed look on her face, “let me think…” Then she snapped, “Hell no, you never mentioned it before!” Amy’s eyes opened wide along with everyone else’s as her voice took on a slightly quieter tone before she continued.  “How long have you been praying to her?”

 

“Well…I guess I started talking to her after that trip in the woods I took with Jenny, where she…you know.”  Buffy winced slightly at the memory.  She took a deep breath before continuing.  “Anyway, I’d be in my bedroom praying, and she’d actually appear, like my fairy grandma or something, and we’d talk. She’s real nice to me, almost kinda like Mom.”  The Slayer looked off into the distance, a wistful smile dawning across her face before she continued.  “And after that, I just went and got a small little statue of her, made a little shrine, and…I’ve been praying to her ever since.”

 

A quirky smile formed on Willow’s pixie-like face as she spoke up.  “Wow!  That’s so cool, Buffy!”

 

The Slayer smiled at her best friend.  “Thanks, Will.”  She then pursed her lips momentarily in thought.  “Um, does this mean I have to wear an Artemis t-shirt and do bake sales now?”

 

The little red witch’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “Huh?”

 

The blonde snickered and shook her head.  “Don’t blow a gasket over it, Will.  So, now that I think about it…yeah, I mean if I can work out something with Steve and Giles as far as patrol is concerned for Friday, sure.” The Slayer shrugged her shoulders. “I’d like to go.”

 

“Cool!”  Willow exclaimed.  “We’re gonna wear these neat dresses that Amy found at the magic shop, Cordelia helped pick them out.  See?”  She drew a small catalogue out of her backpack, flipped it to a page and showed it to her.  “They’ve got a couple different sizes, so we should be able to find one that’ll fit you.”

 

Buffy’s eyes opened comically wide as she studied the picture of the dress and the young woman modeling it.  “Uhh, like, wow.  It’s really….” The Slayer tried to find the word.  “Revealing.”

 

“Well, that’s the point, Buffy.  It’s a fertility rite, so no need to be modest,” Amy added with a wicked grin.

 

“I’ll say!”  Xander exclaimed, peeking over Buffy’s shoulder.  “Throw in some nachos, free drinks and a naked lesbian orgy, and I’m there!”  The X-Man’s grin promptly disappeared when he noticed the deadly glare emanating from Cordelia.  “Uh, just theoretically speaking, of course,” he added hastily.

 

After throwing a nasty look of her own at the wisecracker, Amy continued. “Oh, and Jenny will be there, too.”

 

Buffy’s face fell slightly.  “Jenny?  Oh, that’s…cool,” she muttered.  The Slayer scanned the inner court again briefly.  “Well, no sign of Giles, let’s see if he’s lurking in one of the hallways, or something.”  The Slayer turned and started walking, until the Scoobies caught up with her.

 

“Hold on a minute, Slay-gal,” Cordelia spoke in a firm voice, both hands on hips as she fronted the Slayer.  “What’s up with the diss?”

 

“Diss?”

 

“What are you, my echo or something?  Yeah, like I said, what’s with the diss?”  Cordelia shot Buffy an annoyed look as she crossed her arms, indicating that she wasn’t going to budge.  “I thought you were over this thing between you and Jenny.”

 

The Slayer got slightly huffy as she glared back at the former cheerleader.  “I’m not dissing anyone, Cordy.  I just think that she was acting a little odd last night.”  She glanced at the rest of her friends.  “Don’t you think so?”

 

The brunette Amazon pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment when she considered Buffy’s words.  “Odd?  Well…she was getting kinda groiny with Giles last night.  But that’s nothing new.”  She narrowed her eyes at Buffy again.  “So?”

 

“So, I just think that it was…odd.”  She looked again at her friends and noticed they all seemed to be agreeing with Cordy’s observation.  “Come on, guys, just how often does Jenny dress like that anyway?”

 

“I don’t know, Buffy,” Oz piped up, stroking his chin thoughtfully, “she didn’t seem all that less-than-normal to me, other than looking extremely hot anyway.”  The taciturn member of the Scoobies noticed Willow’s jealous look and quickly added, “From a purely objective, sitting-in-the-bleachers viewpoint, that is.”

 

Willow quietly accepted his apology with a smile.  “That was a neat little chicken squawk impression you made last night,” the Amazon Wicca cooed softly as she snuggled a little closer to her boyfriend.

 

The werewolf allowed a quirky smirk to form on the corner of his lip.  “Thanks, I thought so.”  The young man then turned to the Chosen One.  “Hey, Buffy, think about it, really. I mean, it makes sense that Giles and Jenny wanna get hot and bothered with each other, right?  I mean it’s kind of like the birds and the bees, or whatever the teachers like to call it.”

 

Buffy stopped to consider the Zen wisdom of Oz for a moment.  It almost seemed to make sense.  Perhaps she was just overreacting…maybe.  She finally let her shoulders sag and muttered, “Okay, okay.  Maybe you’re right.  Maybe I’m just overreacting.  Maybe I’m just…acting like a moron.”  She sighed.  “Fine, I’ll just leave Giles and Jenny alone, let ‘em do their little birds-and-bees thingy, or whatever they call it…”

 

“Also known as sex,” Xander supplied in a theatrical tone with a self-satisfied smirk.

 

Buffy took a moment to glare menacingly at the X-Man while Cordelia said acidly, “Wow, you’re learning something new every day, Lame-O.  Pretty soon your IQ may even move past single digits!”

 

The Immortal Slayer looked ready to throw a nasty taunt of her own at the young man, before she caught flashes of tweed amongst the milling crowd of students.  Relieved, she waved to her Watcher, who briskly walked over to her.  Buffy then noticed that despite his usual well-groomed appearance, his expression appeared rather anxious.  Uh oh, she thought.  Not a good sign…

 

“Buffy!  Oh, ah, glad I was able to find you. Um, w-we need to talk, about…”

 

“Hey, Giles. Oh yeah, I know.  A bunch of oh-so-stuffy tweed-clad Watchers have arrived here in Sunnydale, wanna put me under the microscope, dissect me or something.”  Buffy then flashed one of her patented pouts.  “No offense, but I really don’t feel like being a lab rat for a bunch of Watchers in white coats, or whatever.”

 

“Buffy,” the Watcher sighed, trying to exercise a modicum of patience with his charge, “I was just about to discuss that.  Yes, i-it seems the Watchers have decided to make a surprise visit. Apparently, they are very much interested in you.”  Giles shifted the mass of papers he held in one hand and his briefcase in the other before continuing.  “At least that’s what they’ve told me.  However, it would make sense considering that, ah, you have survived much longer than most Slayers listed in the Watcher records.”

 

“Uh, thanks, Giles.  That makes me feel a whole lot better…sort of.”  The Chosen One noticed the worried look on Giles’ face and made an inward sigh of her own.  “Okay Giles, you’ve got ‘but’ face.  So spill…what’s going on?”

 

The Watcher took a moment to regard the assembled Slayerettes before taking a deep breath.  “Well, I tried to, subtly, discover how much the Watcher team knows, particularly Mr. Trent.”  The Watcher then cringed. “It seems they know you were killed by the Master, Buffy.  They also seem to know that your friends, including Ms. Calendar and myself, have been actively helping you.”

 

The Slayer’s mouth instantly shifted to that of something resembling a large letter “O”, along with the rest of the Scoobies.  “Oh, God,” Buffy moaned, “Giles…do they know...”

 

“Buffy, I-I don’t think they know you’re an Immortal.  A-at least not from what I could tell.  And I don’t believe they know anything about your friends being Amazons or that Jenny, Willow and Amy practice witchcraft…at least, as far as I know.”

 

“As far as you know?”

 

“Well, I couldn’t bloody well ask them directly, could I?”  Giles growled.  Even though he felt it was prudent to keep the Scoobies’ secrets safe from the other Watchers for now, particularly that troll Trent, he still didn’t like sneaking around behind the backs of other Watchers.

 

Buffy shut her eyes and massaged her temples with her fingers, trying to stave off a headache she knew wasn’t due to her Quickening.  “This is just peachy.  First, Lyle Gorch and a new bunch of vampire yahoos show up in town, and now I have to deal with a bunch of nosy Watchers.  Argh, maybe I should just directly ask the Hellmouth if there’s any other wonderful surprises scheduled for today.”

 

The Watcher frowned in concern.  “Buffy, I wouldn’t, ah, tempt the fates as that usually isn’t a good thing.”

 

“Why?  They might make things worse?”

 

“Er…um…no…it’s just tacky.”

 

As she stuck her tongue out at him, Giles pressed on.  “Now as far as the Watchers are concerned, I would suggest we try to be discreet and reveal as little as possible.  Once they’re satisfied with their own research, I’m sure they will leave town.  Now if Jenny were here, I would…would….” The Watcher’s voice trailed off, his eyes going wide, as he stared at an approaching figure. 

 

The rest of the Scoobies turned to follow the Watcher’s gaze, although Buffy’s Slayer hearing already heard numerous comments emanating from a plethora of boys who stared at the approaching woman…

 

“Ms. Calendar?”

 

“Holy shit.”

 

“Check her out, man.”

 

“Damn…”

 

The Scoobies became slack-jawed as they witnessed the approaching vision of Jenny Calendar, while Giles was too stunned to speak.

 

The gypsy wore a sultry white lace shirt that hugged her bosom nicely, while a colorful silk scarf was draped over her head.  Gold hoop earrings dangled from her ears, while a belt composed of golden-spun links circled her waist.  And then they all noticed her skirt. It was long and white, sheer in the early morning sunlight, causing any boy staring at her to gasp as the skirt revealed her long, sensuous legs.  But that wasn’t all.  There was something…different about the sultry Amazon.  Her face was aglow. Her tanned skin was perfect.  Her dark, hypnotic eyes took in almost everything around her and gave out subtle hints from their shadowy depths.

 

No one said a word as the Amazon gypsy strode slowly and deliberately toward the Watcher, her movements slow yet light and agile, like that of a dancer.  A playful smile played across her lovely lips as she regarded her favorite librarian.  “Good morning, Rupert,” she purred softly, smiling.

 

“Er, ahm, hello, Ms. Cal…oh, I mean, Miss….ahm, Jenny,” the Watcher babbled, unable to look away from the gypsy enchantress now standing before him.

 

The computer teacher coyly regarded her lover and stepped even closer to the librarian, her face now only an inch away from his.  The Englishman’s breath caught in his throat, tensing as the gypsy leaned close to him, his nose catching a whiff of a different sort of perfume this morning; a tantalizing, spicy blend that tickled his senses.  Then before the Watcher knew what happened, the gypsy smoothly glided past him and started walking toward the library, her gaze never leaving the Watcher as she teasingly cooed, “We better get to the library Rupert; we wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?”  And with that she gracefully walked toward one of the inner hallways. 

 

Buffy stood and blinked, along with the rest of her companions, as the Watcher obligingly followed the gypsy down a hallway leading to the school library.  “Uh…huh.  Just the normal birds and bees thingy, right guys?”  Her question to the Scoobies contained a healthy dose of sarcasm.

 

“W-well,” Cordelia stammered, flabbergasted at what she’d just seen, “maybe she just got up on the wrong side of the bed, or something.”

 

“I think that’s the right side of the bed, Cordy,” Xander muttered.

 

The Scoobies, wondering what exactly was going on, decided to follow the pair toward the library.

 

#

 

The Watcher caught up to the gypsy woman just outside the library’s double doors.  “Ah, Jenny,” the librarian called to the Amazon, who slowly turned in Giles’ direction. “It’s…it’s good to see you bright and joyful this morning.  I was worried about how you might be feeling after what happened last night.”

 

Jenny shrugged and smiled gracefully at the librarian.  “Don’t worry, Rupert.  I know you didn’t mean to be hurtful toward me in anyway.  Just water under the bridge; don’t worry about it.”  The Amazon’s eye trailed appreciatively down the librarian’s tweed-clad ensemble.  “Actually,” she drawled in a husky tone, “you might want to worry a little more about yourself.”

 

Giles looked momentarily worried at Jenny’s observation.  “Er, myself?  What’s wrong?”

 

The Amazon witch smiled and gently began to trail an index finger down the front of his tweed outfit.  “You do seem rather stiff in that tweed ensemble of yours.  I don’t think I’ve ever really seen you wear anything else.  Perhaps we need to…” The gypsy’s finger continued to trace down his tweed jacket, until finally reaching his belt.  “Change that,” Jenny finished, pausing for a moment as a naughty smile crept onto her face, her finger resting at his belt buckle.  The librarian, feeling a bit uncomfortable, looked away and felt relieved that there weren’t too many students hanging around near the library…other than the Slayerettes, who now stood a short distance away and gawked at what they saw.  Giles’ face flushed red with embarrassment and he looked back to his lover, who now wore a very naughty-looking grin on her face.

 

“Er, Jenny, are you quite sure you’re alright?  You do seem a bit…different this morning.”  Giles once again couldn’t help but notice how radiant the gypsy appeared.  However, on second thought it didn’t seem so much that she had become radiant, but somehow almost…perfect.

 

The gypsy purred, “I’ve never felt better, Rupert.”   She continued to let her hand rest visibly near his belt buckle for a moment, her dark chocolate eyes continuing to stare into the Watcher’s own before she moved her hand away, broke eye contact and walked through the double doors into the waiting library.  The librarian shook his head to awake himself from his stupor before following the gypsy inside.  However, both the Amazon witch and the Watcher were surprised to see that they weren’t the first ones to arrive.

 

Before them a tall, lean man stood near one of the library tables, regarding them warily.  He wore a light dark jacket over a shirt and trousers, with black hair that was cut short in an almost military-style look.  He appeared to be in his early or mid-thirties, his face a mix of Caucasian and Oriental features.  His dark, slightly slanted eyes carefully regarded the computer teacher and the librarian with a stern expression, although his eyes did seem to momentarily widen at the sight of the beautiful computer teacher.  In one hand he casually gripped what appeared to be some sort of small metal detector or electronic device, while his free hand had subtly glided toward his inner left jacket breast pocket, a move that instantly alarmed the two lovers before he spoke in a voice that was American and professional in tone, although with a slight indiscernible accent.  “Sorry, sir…ma’am, but the library is closed right now, you’ll need to come back later.”

 

The Englishman reared himself up and fixed the new arrival with a stern gaze of his own.  “As it just so happens, I happen to be the librarian here, and this is a public institution.  My name is Rupert Giles. Who are you?”

 

At the mention of the name, the Asian-American relaxed slightly, although he kept himself in what appeared to be a ready stance as he continued to appraise the couple, plus the other kids who had now come through the double doors and skidded to a stop when they sighted the professional-looking man.  “My apologies, Mr. Giles.  I was just finishing a security sweep of the library before the Watcher team arrives.”  He carefully walked toward the librarian and offered his hand, which the librarian took with a hint of wariness.  “Jericho Saito, security consultant.”  While he shook the Englishman’s hand, his eyes looked both Giles and Jenny up and down one last time, before he withdrew his hand and extended it to the computer teacher.  “And you must be Jennifer Calendar, I presume?”  The gypsy paused for a moment before reluctantly taking the young man’s hand in her own, her once-flirtatious expression gone as she warily nodded to the newcomer before her.  Jericho nodded in reply before fixing his gaze on the young students that had walked into the library, particularly the Slayer who eyed the young man with a note of suspicion.

 

“Pardon me, Mr. Saito, but you said you’re with the Watcher team?” Giles queried.

 

Jericho returned his gaze from the students to regard the librarian, and continued in a slightly more relaxed tone that still revealed nothing.  “Yes, Mr. Giles, I am with the Watcher team…so to speak.  Admittedly, I’m actually here as a security escort for my companion.”

 

A confused look crossed the Englishman’s face.  “Your companion?  Who might that be?  It was my impression that Mr. Trent and Mr. Nelson were the only Watchers to have arrived here in Sunnydale.”

 

“Rupert?”

 

All eyes in the library turned toward the source of the lilting voice.  From between the bookcases emerged a female figure whose appearance instantly caused all the faces in the library, save Jericho, to widen from shock, surprise or lust.

 

The woman appeared to be a little taller than Jenny, with a slightly darker complexion.  Her lovely face was framed by glossy dark hair that captured some of the sunlight filtering through the windows, showing subtle hints of red as it cascaded down past her shoulders.  Her full, red lips were slightly parted as she regarded the Englishman with dark, almond-shaped eyes with hints of green within their hypnotic depths.  She wore a finely-tailored, form-fitting business suit that was smart in appearance, yet showed off a breathtaking figure and shapely bosom that was complemented by a very short miniskirt that revealed her long, beautiful legs.  Her fashionable, high-heeled shoes gently clicked along the library floor as she walked toward the Englishman with a grace that looked like it would be more at home on a catwalk in Paris, rather than in the musty confines of the library.

 

In short, as Jenny, Buffy, Cordelia, Amy and Willow regarded the newcomer with suspicion and alarm, Oz and Xander determined at that very moment that this woman, whoever she was, was, without doubt, a MAJOR LEAGUE hottie!

 

Giles simply gaped at the woman before him for several moments, almost forgetting to breathe before he exhaled slowly.  “Layla?”

 

The exotic beauty regarded the Englishman for a long moment before allowing a ghost of a smile to grace her lips, although her eyes seemed to hold a touch of sadness as she gazed at the Watcher.  “Rupert Giles, as I live and breathe,” she spoke again, in a lilting French-accented voice that held subtle undercurrents of another accent that couldn’t be readily placed. “It has been far too long, non?”

 

The Watcher attempted to form words, but appeared to be struck speechless as the exotic beauty stepped closer to the librarian.  Then, unexpectedly the woman’s face clouded over with anger as she drew up her right hand and slapped Giles across the face with a loud smack that left the Watcher reeling.

 

“You miserable bastard!” she hissed, the anger she displayed doing nothing to mar her gorgeous face as she glared at the Watcher.  “It has been almost ten years since I last saw or heard from you, and now I find you here of all places?  Not even a word, not even a note from you! Mon Dieu, I might as well have never even existed to you!  Apparently, nothing we had meant anything to you!”

 

Before the woman could continue her tirade, Buffy and Jenny slipped in front of the Watcher, with Jenny firmly planting her hand on Layla’s bosom and shoving her backward, throwing the woman off balance momentarily before she regained her equilibrium and glared at the gypsy. At the same moment, the Slayer planted her feet firmly in front of the Watcher and narrowed her eyes at the young woman, silently daring her to try and strike her man…  Then, realizing what she had just thought, Buffy’s eyes opened comically wide as her mind raced to scream inwardly to herself, I meant Giles…not my man…Giles, again!  Meanwhile, Jericho silently cursed under his breath and moved to Layla’s side, while the rest of the Slayerettes wondered if a royal rumble was about to break out in the library.

 

“Dude, this is SO sweet!  I believe we’ve got a hottie catfight on our hands,” Xander murmured sideways to his werewolf friend, “Buffy, Ms. Calendar, and the French babe--man, if we only had some Saran Wrap, bikinis, body oil, and a video camera, I’d be in heaven!  Wanna place any bets?”

 

“Ixnay on the pornofestay, bro,” Oz muttered, as he elbowed Xander and nodded slightly in Cordelia’s and Amy’s direction, who both glared at the two boys with frosty looks while Willow had her “resolve face” on full display.  The two boys instantly shut up.

 

“Excuse me,” Jenny snapped as she narrowed her eyes at the exotic woman.  “Before you even think of bitch-slapping my man again, might I ask just who the hell are you?”

 

The beautiful woman took a moment to regain her composure then looked sideways at Jericho who stood beside her with a look of warning directed toward her.  Taking a deep breath, she thrust her chin forward and spoke, “Please forgive my outburst.  It is simply that Monsieur Giles and I are…old acquaintances.” She shot a meaningful glare at the Watcher, who was busy rubbing the cheek where he’d been struck as his eyes darted between Layla and Jenny.  “I am Dr. Layla Constantin. I have been officially designated by the Watcher’s Council as an analyst for the team currently assigned to Sunnydale.”  She coolly appraised the gypsy woman in front of her before continuing. “And you are Jennifer Calendar, I presume, the Kalendish gypsy that I have heard so much about.  I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you.”

 

The computer teacher looked at Giles momentarily, mouthing the question “old acquaintance?”  The Watcher gulped and remained stone-faced, appearing as though he wanted to be anywhere else at that very moment rather than be caught between the two women.  Jenny huffed and glared back at the “doctor”, unimpressed.  “Oh, likewise, Doctor Lay-la Constantin,” she hissed.  She momentarily looked the woman up and down, noting her chic, refined clothing.  “Exactly what are you a doctor of, if I may ask?”

 

“Well,” she drawled, not missing a beat as she also noted Jenny’s gypsy-style attire, “I happen to have a PhD in Psychology from the University of Provence, France.  I specialize in psychological analysis as well as other areas such as hypnotherapy.”

 

“Dude,” Xander quietly babbled, “did she basically say she’s a couch therapist?”  His mind suddenly floated on air with thoughts of him lying on a couch and this Frenchwoman, who looked more like a Victoria’s Secret supermodel then a psychologist, administering therapy to him while dressed in high heels and little else…

 

“Get your mind out of the proverbial gutter RIGHT NOW, Alexander Lavelle Harris,” Cordelia hissed through gritted teeth.

 

The rest of the Slayerette’s attention turned back to the gypsy teacher and the French psychologist, who were now staring at each other with dagger-like glares.  Giles continued to look fearfully between the two women while Buffy continued to shoot an icy glare of her own at the Frenchwoman.  “Well, I have to say, Lay-la,” the gypsy drawled again, in a tone that caused the exotic woman to almost gnash her teeth, “it seems that if there’s anyone who at this moment needs therapy, it’s you, considering that unprovoked assault you just launched on my man…”

 

“YOUR man, mademoiselle?”  The psychologist said, almost laughing.  “Ah, but it seems Monsieur Giles has not told you everything about…his past.  You are hardly the first woman to know this particular gentilhomme, isn’t that so, Rupert?”  She flashed a seductive smile at the Watcher, her eyes twinkling. “We have so many memories between the two of us, oui?” The Englishman’s face grew even whiter when he noticed the fury in both Jenny’s and Buffy’s eyes when they glared at him.  At that moment, Giles frantically scanned the library for the quickest escape route open to him.

 

“But where are my manners?” The Frenchwoman continued, “Far be it from me to be rude.  You are…Elizabeth Anne Summers, or Buffy, as you wish to be called, oui?” She nodded to the young blonde woman, who cringed at the mention of her despised Christian name, before her brow set in puzzlement as she remembered that she hadn’t been introduced to the young woman.  Smiling gently yet mysteriously, the psychologist continued.  “And the rest of you are…Alexander Harris, Cordelia Chase, Willow Rosenberg, Amy Madison, and Oz Green,” she accurately indicated each Scooby with a graceful motion of her lovely hands.  “Allow me to say, the pleasure and honor is mine.”

 

“Ahem,” the Watcher cleared his throat, trying to regain his professional air, “pardon me, Mr. Saito…ah, Layla, would you mind terribly if I take the liberty, to, umm, uh, speak a moment with Ms. Calendar, Ms. Summers and her fellow students…in private?”

 

Layla looked like she was about to say more, before she looked sideways and noticed the stern warning on Jericho’s face.  Taking a breath and emitting a sigh, she relented.  “Yes…of course, Rupert.  Please, I hope you will forgive my earlier behavior.  It was not my intention to be so…forthcoming.”  She looked earnestly at the Watcher before turning her attention back to the young man by her side, who looked almost sentinel-like as he gazed at the Scoobies with a hawkish expression.  “Come, Jericho.  We should go and greet the Watchers when they arrive.”  She then glanced at the Slayerettes.  “We shall be back soon.  Believe it or not, I am actually looking forward to getting to know each and every one of you.”  With that, the psychologist and the security consultant walked out of the library.

 

The Englishman sighed deeply…which, to his dismay, was too soon as the rest of the Slayerettes suddenly barraged him with a field of questions, all at once….

 

“England, who the Hell is that Eurotrash bitch?!”

 

“Giles, that was truly wigsome!  What the Hell is going on?”

 

“G-Man, you mean to tell me you actually did the nasty with THAT hot little number?”

 

“Giles, who’s that guy with Layla, he—“

 

“OH, BLOODY WELL SHUT YOUR GOBS ALREADY!!”  Giles roared, his eyes shut and his mind nearly at the end of his rope.  He opened his eyes into angry slits and found his beloved Jenny, his Slayer and the rest of his charges all staring back at him with stunned looks on their faces.  He closed his eyes again momentarily, counted to ten then regarded them with his normal, gentle gaze.  “I mean…bloody hell…I’m truly sorry. It’s just…this is indeed an unexpected turn of events.”

 

“Unexpected is a bit of an understatement, Rupert,” Jenny hissed, her dark chocolate eyes smoldering with rage as she glared at her beloved. “Just who the hell is that woman?  Is she really an ex of yours as she claims, or is she just yanking everyone’s chain?”  She silently prayed it was the latter.

 

Giles purposefully tried to avoid Jenny’s gaze, before reluctantly locking his green eyes with her dark ones.  “She speaks the truth, Jenny. Layla and I were…umm…a…ah, a couple ten years ago.”  He mentally cringed as he witnessed the withering glare of the Amazon gypsy directed toward, him then out of the corner of his eye he saw the angry stare of his young charge, the Slayer as well.  Noting the rather shocked and perturbed expressions from the other Slayerettes, the Englishman continued.  “But, I would like to focus on another problem that I’m afraid has emerged with Layla’s presence.  As much as I wish I could say otherwise, Layla is not just a psychologist, she’s…ahhh…”

 

“A Major League Hottie?  We already knew that one, G-Man.  Damn, no one ever told us you were just a regular pumping Love Machine in your day!  And, illjustquietlystandoverhereandshutupnow,” Xander murmured when he noticed the furious gazes from all the women.

 

After taking a moment to grit his teeth and make a mental note to give Xander another lesson in proper etiquette, a/k/a keeping his mouth shut, the Watcher continued.  “As I was saying, Layla is not merely a psychologist; she possesses…psychic abilities.”

 

The Slayer blinked like an owl at that.  “Psychic?  Uh, excuse me?  As in Psychic Friends Network?”

 

The librarian pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.  “No, Buffy, she is certainly not one of those bloody whatever you call them, ‘dial-a-psychic’ types.”  The Watcher paused, as if considering what to say then continued.  “A little more than ten years ago, Layla was a student at Oxford University.  She was also a volunteer test subject at the British Society for Paranormal Research.  She along with another woman I…knew…were determined rather early on to be the most powerful telepaths they had yet encountered since the Society’s founding.  I was called in as a research assistant as a favor to a friend, who knew of my…dabbling in the subject.  And that was, for lack of a better explanation, how we met.”

 

No one said anything for several moments before Buffy groaned.  “Well, Giles, you were right.  Blame it on me for tempting the Hellmouth.  So now we’ve got another guy who’s looking all mysterious ‘Secret Service’ type, and on top of the whole enchilada, we have some French babe who, from what you just blabbed, is not only your ex-honey, but some sort of freaking Jean Grey?”

 

Giles looked clearly confused, once again failing to grasp another one of Buffy’s infamous pop culture references. “Who in the bloody blazes are you talking about?”

 

“She’s basically asking if Layla is really as badass powerful a psychic as I think you’re saying, right, Buffster?”  Xander supplied, with a nod from the Slayer.

 

“Well,” the librarian paused for a moment, appearing unusually hesitant.  “I-I don’t think she means to appear as any sort of threat, at least not toward you lot.  But I do believe we are now going to have to be especially on our guard, both mentally and physically.  By that I mean we must be careful not only in what we say in front of the Watchers.  We are going to need to watch what we think in front of them as well.  I…don’t think Layla is the type to intentionally try to read or manipulate anyone’s minds without their consent…under these circumstances, that is.  But I must stress again that we all need to be careful.  Layla was perhaps one of the most powerful telepaths I had ever seen, and that was bloody well ten years ago.  I wouldn’t want to consider the possibility that she could be even stronger now, compared to, well, other than…” His voice trailed off before he decided to shut his mouth.

 

“Other than what or who, Giles?” Buffy demanded.

 

When it appeared none of the Slayerettes were going to let Giles off the hook, the Watcher relented.  “Ah, as I mentioned earlier, there was another woman at the Society who was undergoing tests alongside Layla.  Her name was Alex Sinclair.” Giles hesitated as an old, unwanted, bitter memory flashed in his mind. “She and I were also, somewhat…involved, as it were.”

 

“Oh man,” Xander moaned, “you gotta be kidding, G-Man…you are kidding, right?”

 

“Er, no, I’m afraid not.”

 

Everyone stared at Giles open-mouthed before Xander finally found courage and squeaked out in an awe-inspired voice, “G-Man, I gotta say, dude…you are without an absolute freaking doubt, MY HERO.”  The young man then noticed the library had grown eerily quiet as every other member of the Scooby Gang regarded him with less-than-noble intentions in their eyes.  “Uh, guys, simmer down.  It was meant to be a compliment…guys???”

 

Fate, it appeared, smiled upon Xander that day, for as each and every other member of the Scoobies prepared to pounce on the tactless youth, the library’s double doors swung open again, heralding the return of Layla and Jericho…with Edward and Patrick in tow.  As Giles, Jenny, and the assembled Slayerettes turned to face the Watcher team, Buffy, who had momentarily forgotten her fury concerning the Watchers, started to loudly hum a funeral dirge.

 

Edward Trent, looking as gray, cold, and authoritarian as he had the night before, swiveled his head in annoyance at the source of the sound, fixing his glare on the young Slayer.  “Is there something amusing, miss…?”

 

“Buffy Summers” the Slayer piped up with a smart-assed smile on her face, “and you must be…oh, wait, I know this one; you’re the Mister-English-Tea-And-Stuffy-Scones that I’ve been hearing so much about.”  She turned her lips down in a mock frown.  “Sorry, but just so you know, I’m not too much of a Miss Muffin type.”

 

Edward glared at the young blonde woman, unimpressed while Patrick simply continued to stare nervously around the room, saying nothing.  The Chosen One noticed her Watcher closing his eyes again and muttering a curse that her Slayer hearing picked up all too easily, but also noticed, of all things, that Layla was actually smirking, as if she was thoroughly enjoying the exchange, while Jericho had his right eyebrow cocked with a bemused expression on his face. 

 

The Slayer’s thoughts snapped back to reality when Edward spoke in a droll tone, a thinly-veiled look of apathy on his face.  “I suggest you change your attitude quickly, Ms Summers, for we have much to discuss this day and much to do, and I for one do not plan to waste my time playing parlor games with you or your friends.”  His gaze momentarily swept the rest of her friends, seemingly unconcerned at all the icy glares being shot his way.  Rearing himself up slightly, the Senior Watcher continued.  “The day will commence thusly; once we are finished reviewing all the records provided to us by Mr. Giles, Mr. Nelson and myself, along with…Ms. Constantin,” he shot a glare at the young woman, then continued, “will, throughout the day, take each of Ms. Summer’s friends aside, including, of course, Mr. Giles and Ms Calendar, and conduct an in-depth interview with each and every one of you, where we shall study the extent of your…involvement with the Slayer.”  Edward proceeded to frown once again.  “Although I must say that this would rather be unnecessary, had Mr. Giles and Ms. Summers followed the rules that have been set down by the Council, which clearly states…”

 

“Yes, yes, I understand all this quite well, Mr. Trent.”  Giles snapped, catching everyone by surprise. “The Slayer is to work alone, with only her Watcher to guide and protect her.  Well, allow me to state here and now that, as much as I wish I could say otherwise, the only bloody reason that both Ms. Summers and I have survived this long is because she has had the honor and privilege of having both Ms. Calendar and these brave young men and women you see standing before you,” he indicated with a sweep of his hand, “by her side while she has been forced to face one horror after another without recognition or reward from the world-at-large.  I daresay that Buffy would not be the same woman standing before you today, nay, perhaps less so with her physical self and her psyche intact, if not for the courage and fortitude that Ms. Calendar and Buffy’s fellow students have shown time and again.” Rupert’s eyes then darkened considerably, “Now, perhaps that doesn’t mean bollocks to one such as you, but perhaps that’s to be expected, considering you’re not a bloody sixteen-year-old who’s had her childhood forever ripped from her and chosen to save the bloody world!”  Everyone else was rendered momentarily speechless after Giles’ rant. The Scoobies stared in shock at the Watcher, while Buffy and Jenny both suddenly began to tear up.

 

Edward seemed completely stunned by Giles’ outburst, before reassuming his apathetic demeanor.  “Mr. Giles, your observation is duly noted.  However, as I was about to say before you so rudely interrupted me, the rules clearly state…”

 

“Monsieur Trent, I’m afraid I must say that Monsieur Giles clearly has a point,” Layla interjected in a slightly more professional-sounding tone than what she had used previously, the enchanting lilt of her exotic French accent remained as Buffy, Giles and Jenny along with the other Slayerettes looked at her in surprise.  “Plainly, from my own research of this particular area, referred to as Boca del Infernio, or Hellmouth, it would be impossible for one, or a pair such as Buffy Summers and Rupert Giles, to battle such evils in this area, alone.  Indeed, I would say that Monsieur Giles’ observations are quite valid.”

 

“Ms. Constantin,” Edward snapped, looking very annoyed at the psychologist, “you are here to help provide psychological analysis for our investigation and research, NOT bore us with your unneeded opinions.”  He then sniffed in disdain at the sight of her mini-skirted ensemble.  “And might I suggest you try wearing more…professional attire?”

 

“Excuse moi, Monsieur Trent,” Layla shot back, looking rather displeased, “I would first greatly appreciate, non, I insist that you refer to me by my proper title, and that is Doctor Constantin.  And furthermore, just so that you are aware,” she struck a fashionable pose with both hands on hips, “this is my professional attire.”

 

“Meow,” Xander drawled, obviously appreciating the exchange.  Cordelia regarded him with a stern warning look before returning her attention to the Watcher team.

 

“In any case, as I had stated,” Edward went on, looking and sounding rather bored, “once we are finished interviewing the Slayer and her friends, we shall commence with a…martial duel here in the library, after school.  This will give us an excellent opportunity to gauge the Slayer’s abilities.  Now, since Mr. Giles is Ms. Summer’s Watcher, I would like to see him—“

 

“Excuse me, sir,” Jericho interrupted, gently clearing his throat.  The Senior Watcher regarded the man with a look of aplomb.  “May I request that I be considered as Ms. Summer’s opponent for the sparring match?  I believe, with all due respect to Mr. Giles, of course, that I may be much better suited for such an endeavor considering that I am a ‘third party’ and thus have no personal connection to the Slayer.  And last but not least,” he fixed his imperceptible gaze on the petite blonde, “I am rather anxious to see and experience Ms. Summer’s supposed power and skill, up close and personal as you will.”

 

Giles regarded the young man with a mix of both surprise and suspicion, while Buffy’s eyebrows narrowed menacingly as she stalked toward the security consultant, who didn’t flinch and continued to watch her like a hawk sizing up its prey, albeit an extremely dangerous and lethal prey.  “Excuse me, did I just hear you say, “supposed,” as in a sentence describing me?”

 

Jericho continued to gaze at the Slayer, unflinching as a smirk formed on his lips, although his dark eyes seemed to give a hint of menace.  “Well, I have heard that as the Slayer, you are certainly imbued with certain…powers and skills beyond that of normal humans.  Although I have to say…you don’t look like much more than a valley-girl- cheerleader to me.”  The young man then cocked his head to one side, subtly revealing to the Slayer’s heightened sense of vision a small horizontal scar running parallel above his right ear.  “Speaking of which, are you really a blonde?  I couldn’t help but notice you seem to have rather dark roots…”

 

The Slayer growled and barely resisted the urge to gnash her teeth.  “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re not gonna score points with me using cheap second-rate insults like that.  If it’s a fight you want this afternoon, you’re on, so just bring it.”  She then smiled wickedly.  “Oh, and a word of advice?  Don’t plan on too much strenuous activity once we’re done, assuming you can still walk, that is.”

 

Jericho returned the Slayer’s grim smile with one of his own.  “Just worry about yourself, Ms. Summers. I can handle myself just fine.”  He paused momentarily for effect.  “I might even surprise you a little.” 

 

“Really?”  The Slayer retorted, “try living on a Hellmouth, it might change your worldview a little.”

 

Jericho’s eyes darkened considerably as he hissed, “Please don’t assume to patronize me, Ms. Summers.  I’ve been to Hell, figuratively and literally.  So I don’t need words of wisdom from immature seventeen-year old cheerleader wannabes. ” That last jibe visibly succeeded in pissing off the Slayer, who now shot her own deadly glare at the challenger. “But in response to your challenge, I accept.  So be it…unless there’s any objection from anyone in this room, we’ll spar, today, after school, your strength and skill against mine.”  His eyes almost seemed to burn into the Slayer, who continued to stand her ground and glare back at Jericho.  “Fair combat, one-on-one…no tricks.”

 

Buffy nodded, never taking her eyes off Jericho as she said, “After school, today then.  As you said, no tricks.”  With that, Jericho nodded and was about to turn away before the Slayer piped up, “Oh, and Jericho?  Where’d you get that?”

 

The man narrowed his eyes at her.  “Get what?”

 

“That scar running above your ear.”

 

Jericho felt above his right ear and then grimaced momentarily, as if remembering something.  “Oh…that. Near miss.”  He seemed to think for a moment, then smiled grimly at the Slayer.  “I got into an argument…with an Iraqi T-72 tank.”  With that, he turned and walked away.

 

“He got into an argument…with an Iraqi T-72 tank?” Xander parroted quietly with a worried look on his face. 

 

“Hmmm, so be it, then,” Edward said in a bored tone, derailing Xander’s train of thought. “Mr. Saito will spar with Slayer Summers later this afternoon.  Until then, I’m sure everyone is aware of the schedule for today.  We, of course, have more of Mr. Giles’ annotations and records to review.  Come Patrick.”

 

“Yes, sir,” the nervous-looking assistant spoke up as he followed Edward over to one of the tables, where a number of books and notes were spread out. Giles was a bit surprised to hear him speak at all, considering that he hadn’t said a word last night.

 

“Buffy?”  The Slayer turned to face Willow.  The little red witch had a worried expression on her delicate features. “Say, we know the Watchers are asking for a display of your Slayer skills and all, but…that doesn’t mean you gotta prove anything, especially to that Jericho guy.  I mean, what’s his beef with you?  He’s either just an idiot or maybe…maybe he’s one of those ex-Special Ops guys like your boyfriend.”

 

“Who knows?”  The Slayer casually shrugged, glancing at the young man who was being pulled off to the side by Layla, obviously to discuss something out of earshot.  She tried listening with her Slayer senses, but oddly didn’t hear anything.  She then wondered what Giles had said earlier about Layla being a telepath and wondered if she was doing some sort of freaky telepathy thingy.  Buffy then shook off that thought and noted, “I face demons and vampires on a nightly basis.  Even if he’s some commando type, he can’t be that tough.”

 

“Yeah, I guess…just be careful all the same, okay?”

 

The Chosen One smiled at her best friend.  “Aren’t I always?”  She then glared at her Watcher just as he attempted to respond.  “Don’t say it, Giles,” she deadpanned.

 

“All I was going to say, Buffy,” he said drolly with a teasing smirk on his face, “was…I believe that’s that,” Then the librarian reverted back to his usual Watcher self.   “You all know what to do, and I’m sure you all need to get to your classes, so you had all better hop to it then.”  He then cast a long, meaningful look at Jenny, indicating he wanted to speak to her in private.  The gypsy nodded as the rest of the gang trudged out of the library.  The Englishman gently pulled his lover aside and whispered, “Jenny, I…I really am sorry for all this, it’s just…”

 

The Amazon gypsy sighed.  “It’s just what, Rupert?  Overall rather screwed-up-every-which-way that your goddamn ex…wait, excuse me, one of your multiple exes just happens to show up today with a bunch of freaking Watchers?!”  Her whisper almost became a roar as she struggled to control her temper.  She looked over momentarily at the Watchers and “Doctor” Constantin, who momentarily glimpsed in her direction.  Flashing them a glare, she turned back to her favorite librarian…well, still her favorite librarian as long as that hussy Frenchwoman didn’t try to claw her way into his pants.  She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the situation at hand, realizing that at the moment they had bigger fish to fry.  

 

“Well, I guess I’ll have to nix that magick lesson I had planned for Amy and Willow today, as long as these guys are snooping around.”  The Amazon spared a quick glance at the library clock and, noticing the time, reluctantly spoke, “I gotta go and set up the lab.  So, will I see you here later today, then?”

 

The librarian nodded enthusiastically “Oh, yes, definitely.  I suppose Buffy would appreciate having an, ah, audience, for lack of a better word, when she commences her sparring match.”

 

In spite of everything that had happened in the last few minutes, the gypsy smiled, which gave the Watcher a momentary sense of relief.  “I think you meant to say pep squad, Rupert,” she said wryly.  After casting another glare at the Frenchwoman, who flashed Jenny an icy one of her own, the gypsy gave her lover a peck on the cheek before she walked out.

 

Moments later, Giles turned to the assembled Watcher team.  “Excuse me, Mr. Trent,” Giles spoke again, this time in a rather authoritarian voice of his own, which brooked little room, if any, for arguments.  “I would like to speak with Dr. Constantin.  Alone, if you please.”  Layla looked up from some notes she was leafing through in a briefcase, surprise with a mix of dread evident on her lovely face.

 

The Senior Watcher frowned again at the librarian.  “Mr. Giles, we have more notes and annotations from your records to cover.  If you wish to socialize with your former paramour, it can wait until later.”  Edward failed to notice Layla’s own icy look as she glared disdainfully at Edward.

 

“Actually, you’re the one who can wait,” the Watcher growled, with a hint of menace that caused the four other individuals in the library to stop and take notice.  “We have plenty of time.  Now, you may all represent the Council, but I am still Buffy’s Watcher, this is my library, and I will not tolerate any more of your insults and boorish behavior, do I make myself clear?”

 

Edward walked toward Giles in a manner that almost seemed threatening, while his assistant stayed back and simply continued to watch.  Jericho spared a quick glance at Layla, who shook her head as if indicating he should stand his ground.  The Senior Watcher came within a few inches of Giles and hissed, “Mr. Giles, you are truly quite the buffoon if you think to threaten me, I suggest—“

 

He never had time to finish as Buffy’s Watcher suddenly grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and slammed his back against the library counter with a thud, causing a mix of fear and shock to instantly display itself in Edward’s eyes, along with looks of surprise from the other members of the Watcher team.  Giles leaned in over the Senior Watcher, his forearm pinning his chest against the counter, his teeth bared and his eyes shining with a deadly gleam that caused Edward to shut up immediately.

 

“Do…not…ever, get in my bloody face like that again, you ponce,” he hissed with menace.  “As I already said, you may represent the Council, but here, you are on MY turf, and that means you had better bloody well start to show proper manners and respect not just to me, but to Ms. Summers, Ms. Calendar, and their friends as well, do you understand me?”  His eyes then narrowed menacingly.  “If not, rest assured I will be more than happy to give you a proper…demonstration of why everyone back in Merry old England referred to me as ‘The Ripper’.  Oh, believe me, the tales are quite true.  Demons were my playthings, and I performed deeds that would make the Devil himself cry!” Edward’s eyes were now wide with fright as he continued to gaze at the almost-demonic visage that had replaced the normally gentle face of the Watcher just a moment ago.  Out of the corner of Giles’ eye, he noticed the extremely frightened look on Patrick’s face, the wide, hesitant look in Jericho’s eyes, and the shocked expression on Layla’s face.  Grimly smiling to himself, the Watcher regarded Edward one last time.  “So, for the rest of your time here in Sunnydale, I would strongly suggest you be on your best behavior, or I may be forced to…indulge myself.  And I think you know what that means.”  With that, the Watcher calmly removed his arm from Edward’s chest, then looked down and sniffed in disdain.  “Dear me, it seems you had a bit of an accident in your trousers.  I suppose you had better take care of that, don’t you agree?”  Edward looked down at his trousers and, noticing the stain, quietly and hurriedly excused himself.  Patrick murmured something indistinguishable and dutifully followed the Senior Watcher out through the double doors.  With that, only Jericho and Layla were now left in the library with Giles.

 

“Jericho,” Layla spoke softly to her partner, who looked at her with a visibly concerned expression.  “Go and…wait outside.  In fact, why don’t you see if you could go and get some coffee for us, please?

 

“Layla, are you sure this is a good idea? I think—“

 

“My friend, please,” Layla looked at her companion with a pleading expression in her beautiful, dark green eyes.  “Go.  I will be alright.”

 

Jericho regarded the Englishman warily, then nodded reluctantly.  “As you wish.” He picked up a large briefcase from the table and proceeded to walk out of the library.  As the Asian-American walked past the librarian, Giles noticed the briefcase appeared to have two small, noticeable holes in one side, with what almost looked like a trigger hidden in the briefcase handle.  After shooting a questioning look at the Frenchwoman when he reached the doors, to which the young woman nodded, Jericho walked out.

 

A moment of silence passed between the two sole occupants of the library, the tension so think it could be cut with a knife.  Then Giles asked simply, “Why did you come here?”

 

The Frenchwoman turned from the papers she had been shuffling to regard the Englishman, looking him squarely in the eye.  “I already told you Rupert…the Council hired me as an analyst for this assignment.  While you were gone, I went on with my life.  I continued my studies, learned to harness my gifts, and when the Council learned more about me and tried to hire me, I accepted.  So there, everything fully explained to you, presented nice and proper on a silver platter.”  She narrowed her eyes dangerously.  “Does that satisfy you?”

 

“No,” he hissed, as he stalked toward the psychologist, who almost visibly took a step backward before rearing herself up and standing her ground, as she warily regarded the Watcher.  “That bloody well doesn’t satisfy me at all.  I may not be a high-level telepath like you, but I know you’re hiding something.  The Council wouldn’t hire someone like you in the first place for something as mundane as a ‘progress report’ on the Slayer.  So, I’ll ask you again…why are you really here?”

 

“I told you—”

 

“BOLLOCKS!  You’re lying!”  Giles snarled as he reached out and grabbed both of Layla’s shoulders, pushing her back and pinning her against one of the bookcases.  “Why are you really here, damn you!”  Then he growled menacingly.  “I shan’t ask you again…”

 

The Frenchwoman looked fearfully at the man she had once loved as she witnessed his godlike rage, plain for her to see as his smoldering eyes drilled into her own.  The Frenchwoman’s own eyes, however, shifted from fearful to determined, as a primordial power welled up inside her mind…

 

“Get…off …ME!!” She commanded forcefully, an invisible force lashing out from her mind that penetrated the Watcher’s own and instantly caused him to jerk his arms away from the woman and forcibly down to his side.  The Watcher instantly recognized that Layla had used her psi-powers and quickly visualized a brick wall in his mind to repel any more psychic assaults from the young woman using his knowledge and training in the arcane arts.  He reared himself up with a snarl and a defensive stance, as he called up a spell from his memory that would unleash a mana bolt if he needed to do so.

 

“Do not presume to think I am that same, naïve young fille you left behind ten years ago, Rupert,” The Frenchwoman snarled.  “I have grown into my own powers over the years, and you have not the slightest idea what I can do now.  Others have tried to harm me, and I left many of them as vegetative husks of their former selves…and believe you me, those were the lucky ones!”  She was positioned in a stance of her own, her eyes narrowed and her mind focused, ready to unleash a hail of psychic energy bolts at the Englishman if necessary.

 

“Don’t get your knickers in a bunch with me, ducks,” The librarian warned with a not-so-subtle hint of menace.  “Remember that little show of magic I used before your very eyes when I was with you and Alex?  That was child’s play compared to what I’ll do if you bloody well try to harm Jenny, Buffy or her friends!”

 

The two former lovers continued to regard each other warily, before, ever so subtly, the two began to lower their defenses, as each took a deep breath, considering what either of them had been prepared to do…

 

“What in heavens’ name are we doing?” Layla whispered.

 

Giles paused for a moment then sighed.  “I haven’t the foggiest notion,” Giles said resignedly.

 

Both took another look at each other, than sighed in unison and, slowly yet carefully relaxed themselves, both visibly shaken at what had almost occurred between the two of them.

 

“Rupert…oh, mon dieu,” Layla choked, a horrified expression dawning on her face.  “I am so sorry, I…I never wanted to do that.”

 

“I wish I could say I was sorry too, Layla,” Giles said hoarsely.  “But I’m not so sure I could trust you again.”

 

Tears began to form in Layla’s beautiful eyes as she regarded her ex-lover.  “You still do not trust me, Rupert?  Not after everything we shared, after all the times our bodies and minds touched?  Not…not even after all the times I wanted to tell you…that I was sorry?”  She blinked rapidly, trying to will away the tears, and with partial success, opened them again.

 

The Watcher looked as if he wanted to say more, than, deciding on a different course of action, he carefully walked to within a whisker’s length of the lovely Frenchwoman.  He could smell her perfume, a mix of jasmine and other Eastern fragrances as he gently grasped her lovely hands in his own and slowly brought them up to his temples.  Allowing the young beauty to hold his head in her hands, he focused his gentle eyes on the woman’s darkly hypnotic, emerald-flecked own as the Watcher and the psychic joined their minds, time appearing to halt completely, as flashes of old memories began to appear before them….

 

 

The two gentlemen walked down the stately, pristine yellow-lit marble hallway of the building, their shoes making a faint echo while outside, a heavy rain could be faintly heard on yet another cold, gray yet glorious day in Kensington, London.

 

“Thank you for coming, old chap,” Professor Julian Stone noted to the bespectacled, scholarly man that walked alongside him.  “I truly do appreciate the favor.  In fact I think you’ll be most surprised at what I’ve discovered with our two volunteer subjects.  The results, to say the least, are most astonishing!”

 

Rupert Giles smiled at his slightly taller friend.  The two had shared a long interest in matters that were obscure and arcane since their meeting at Oxford University.  Rupert had immersed himself in the studies of ancient cultures, myths and religions, Julian was for the most part, more interested in the studies of parapsychology, psychology and neurology.  The two had decided to meet up again in London when Julian had sent a call, asking if he could help him with a new project, as well as catch up on old times.  While Julian continued to gush excitedly, Rupert once again thumbed through the manila folder that he’d been given earlier, carefully studying the portfolios of the two volunteer test subjects that formed the core of Julian’s new project.

 

“As I said, it’s certainly no problem, Julian.  It’s always good to see how my fellow mates are doing, and I’m glad to help.” He glanced at the profiles in the folder again.  “Two rather interesting subjects you have here, I must say.  Alex Sinclair, new student at Oxford University, transfer from Boston, Massachusetts.  An upper-class bred from the colonies, eh?  It says here it’s believed that her mother may have been a senior priestess or seer in one of the old witch cults still operating in the area, most interesting.  And this other one…Layla Constantin, also a new student at Oxford, transfer from Provence, France.  Born in France, although her mother is Egyptian and her father Romanian. And it’s currently believed that her mother is or was a mystic in a cult dedicated to the ancient Egyptian Gods.  Yes, definitely interesting.”

 

Julian chuckled.  “Ah, not as interesting as to what you’re going to see, friend.  Now, you and I have most certainly seen our share of so-called ‘mystically-gifted’ people in our time.  Some of them are legit, many of them are fake…but I daresay these two, after some experimentation, are certainly the two most talented I’ve ever seen.”

 

Rupert’s eyes shot up in alarm.  “Experimentation?  Er, what exactly do you mean by that, Julian?”

 

The professor shot a reassuring smile his way.  “No need to be alarmed, old chap.  Nothing major, I assure you.  Mainly utilizing some advanced hypnosis techniques, minor hallucinogens, and…other things.  But come, let’s not worry about that now.  Let’s see what our two dear students are up to, shall we?”  They stopped in front of a large heavy oak door marked “Lab 12B: Observatory Room”. Julian produced a card and slid it through the electronic card reader next to the door and opened it, gesturing to Rupert that he should go first, to which the scholar obliged.

 

The room was dark and dimly-lit by several computer monitors attached to various terminals, each displaying various graphs and thermal images.  One of the terminals was being studied by a young male lab technician, who was dutifully noting down annotations on a clipboard in his hands.  The young man turned and nodded momentarily in greeting to Rupert and Julian, before returning to the task at hand.  On the far end before them was a large one-way glass mirror.  Through it could be seen a brightly-lit, modestly furnished room in which two women sat at a table covered with different books, pictures and drawings.  It was the two women in particular that instantly caught Rupert’s attention…

 

The woman on the left was a porcelain-skinned beauty with shimmering silver-blonde locks that came down to her shoulders.  Her aquiline nose was offset by lovely deep-blue eyes and glossy pink lips that were pursed in a sensual pout.   The other woman who sat on the left was no less beautiful than her companion, if not lovelier. Her dark, exotic complexion was framed by waves of raven-black hair that held subtle hints of red, almost like burning coals.  Her full, red lips offset her hypnotic dark, green-flecked eyes as she gazed at the blonde beauty in concentration.  The lighter-skinned woman held a series of pictures in her hands, hidden from the darker woman’s view.

 

“A cat, a one-story house, a view of the sea, and a cloud,” The dark woman purred in a rather exotic French-accented voice that could be heard through the room’s overhead speakers.

 

“Correct, my friend,” the blonde woman said in a Boston Brahman -accented voice along with a smile.

 

Julian picked up a clipboard sitting on a desk, paged through it and nodded in satisfaction, before handing it to Rupert, who was still staring wide-eyed at the two beautiful women sitting in the next room.  The scholar blinked before taking the clipboard, with a look of embarrassment on his face.  Rupert took several minutes to study the results that were listed, trying not to notice the bemused smirk on Julian’s face.

 

“My word, Julian, you were correct,” Rupert whispered as he read through the data.  “These two women are truly…amazing.  I’ve never seen figures in this range before.”

 

“Oh, is that all, old chap?”  Julian nudged playfully.  “Are test results really ALL you’re interested in?  The fact that these two ladies may very well be the most beautiful women currently residing in London doesn’t peak your interest one bit?”

 

As if on cue, the two women stopped the experiment they were performing with each other before turning their attention to the one-way mirror before them, looks of curiosity on both of their lovely faces.  The two women stood in unison and walked toward the glass wall.  Both of them were clad in designer jeans and fashionable blouses, revealing tall, curvaceous figures that would look easily at home on any major fashion magazine cover.

 

“Hello again, Professor Stone,” the blonde woman spoke.  “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

 

Rupert stared at the two women again with a wide-eyed expression.  “Ah, Julian, isn’t that one-way glass?”

 

“Indeed it is, Rupert.  But as you can see, our two lovely friends can sense our presence, among other things.”

 

“Er, among what other things?”

 

Julian smiled and pressed an intercom button next to a speaker.  “Hello, ladies. Sorry to interrupt, but we have a guest.”  The Professor then indicated to each woman.  “This is Miss Alex Sinclair, and this is Miss Layla Constantin.  Ladies, this is…hmm, actually, perhaps you ladies would care to do the honors.”

 

“Monsieur Stone, Mademoiselle Sinclair, may I?”  Layla queried cryptically.

 

The professor smiled and nodded.  “Of course, Layla…fire away.”  The blonde beauty in the room also nodded and smiled as well.

 

The dark beauty nodded and then focused through the glass, almost as if she could actually see Rupert in the room.  The bespectacled scholar suddenly felt odd, as if he was almost naked in front of this woman, who now wore a knowing smile on her face. “Mister Rupert Giles, I presume?”  She then paused for a moment, her smile growing wider.  “I see that you are a very well-groomed gentleman, monsieur.  I can also see that you seem to prefer wearing tweed, but nice tweed nonetheless.  Your hair is wavy brown, and you have very nice green eyes.” Her smile became very flirtatious. “If you do not mind me being so forthcoming, you are very handsome as well.  Indeed, Alex and I were discussing earlier about the new assistant that Professor Stone said he was meeting.  We are both happy to see he chose rather…nicely.”  She then stepped a little closer to the glass and brought her hand up to it, pressing it against the window as though it presented no barrier whatsoever, as if she could actually reach out and touch the scholarly gentleman on the other side, who gazed at her in awe and wonder.  “I…we, look forward to getting to know and working with you, Monsieur Giles.”

 

Rupert stepped forward, continuing to gaze in wonder at the two beautiful women, but more particularly the dark beauty who continued to press against the glass with her hand.  The scholar hesitated, then reached up with his own hand and pressed against the glass, as if he could touch Layla.  “The… pleasure will be mine as well, Layla…I mean, Miss Constantin,” he whispered.

 

The memory faded, then shifted away like a morning mist, revealing the Watcher and the psychic once again, their eyes still staring into each other’s souls.

 

“You…you still remember that day when we met, so clearly?”  Layla whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

 

“Of course, I remember that day.  How do you ever think I could ever forget that first moment…I laid eyes on you?”  Giles answered hoarsely.

 

The telepath paused a moment then continued to press her soft fingertips gently against Giles’ temples, as she delved deeper…

 

Rupert sat at the large, heavy oak table in the experimentation room, his left hand absently shuffling through a stack of pictures while in his other hand he quickly jotted down notes on a clipboard.  On the other side of the table, Alex and Layla sat, waiting patiently.  Rupert had been busy conducting several tests with the young women over the past few days, using many of the “standard” tests recognized by parapsychology specialists to test the level of mystical or psychic ability in an individual using words, pictures, phrases, etc.  He’d been amazed by the results he’d seen so far, was even more astounded by his experience firsthand with these two women and the abilities they possessed, and continued to be impressed by the high, if not exceptional marks on the tests he administered.  Although, he privately thought, he admittedly was just as impressed by the grace and politeness of both women, which indicated they had been raised by well-appointed families.  Rupert had been rather curious about that.  Both women seemed content although neither wished to discuss in any great detail their personal backgrounds or their families.  He of course, could understand that.  They certainly were rather open and willing to be subjects for Professor Stone, so some formal privacy was to be considered as proper decorum.

 

However, the compliance of both of these young women bothered him a little.  Whenever Professor Stone issued a command to them, they both seemed instantly eager and willing to obey him, without any complaint or reserve, even if it would mean an inconvenience to them.  Indeed, he’d never heard them try to contradict the professor once, but simply obey whatever commands or orders he gave them without question.  Rupert wondered if some of those vague “experiments” on the ladies that Julian had referred to, such as the use of hypnosis, may have included some sort of behavioral modification or post-hypnotic suggestions…

 

The scholar shook his head and concentrated on jotting down the rest of his notes.  Why the bloody hell would he think of such a thing?   Was he jealous?  Of what?  That the professor, his friend, had two incredibly beautiful, mystically-gifted women working for him? Rupert tried to chase away such thoughts, before he looked back up at both women, who wore impish smiles on their faces.

 

“Er, is there something w-wrong?”  Rupert stammered.

 

“Oh, nothing of major importance, Mr. Giles,” Alex purred smoothly.  “Although Layla and I were both thinking…it is rather unfortunate that you constantly insist on wearing tweed.  Not a terrible thing, but it would be rather nice to see you in some…different attire.”

 

The scholar cleared his throat nervously.  “Ah, d-different a-attire?  What would you mean by that?”

 

“Oh, just a slight makeover, Monsieur Giles,” Layla said, chuckling to herself.  She shared a knowing, mysterious smile with Alex, making Giles wondered how much these two women probably communicated with each other via telepathy, or more precisely, WHAT they communicated.  “A sports coat, perhaps?  A European cut suit? We don’t mean to be rude, monsieur, however, there are some excellent men’s clothing stores here in London, you know.”

 

Rupert blinked then adjusted his glasses.  “Oh…ah, well…hmm, yes.  I had thought of that, buying some new clothes.  But I’m afraid that I’m not particularly keen on fashion trends.”

 

“Not a problem, Rupert,” Layla chimed in, smiling.  “Perhaps Mademoiselle Sinclair and I can help you with that endeavor.  Oh, and Monsieur Giles?”  Her voice grew softer. “ Thank you.”

 

“You’re thanking me?  For what?”

 

“For thinking how beautiful Alex and I look.”

 

The Englishman blushed, feeling embarrassed, before he saw the benign, lovely smile on Layla’s sensual face.  Alex was also smiling, although it seemed it wasn’t quite the same as before.  Her eyes almost seemed to hold a spark of jealousy…

 

The images shifted away again, back to the Englishman and his ex-lover.  Both blinked rapidly, their breaths quickening as they struggled to process the information that passed between them.  Layla’s hands trembled as she continued to make both physical and mental contact with the Watcher. 

 

“I remember Alex back then, before…what happened. She was so different,” Layla mused sadly. “Or was she?  I wonder just how much of what she said, what she felt, was truly hers, not what she was conditioned to feel, or know, that Julian programmed into her…what Julian programmed into me?”  The Frenchwoman shuddered.

 

Giles winced. “However Julian manipulated both of you…I don’t think it could have had anything to do with what we shared that one night…” They closed their eyes and saw everything again…

 

It was late.  Most of the rest of the lab technicians had closed shop and had gone home for the night except for the sole occupants of the dimly lit laboratory.  Off in a corner of the lab sat a long, horizontal pressurized tank composed of clear glass, around which another tank was arranged, this one composed of dark plastic, designed to immerse the glass tank in complete darkness.  This night, the plastic cover was open, allowing the single attendant at the station to observe the goddess-like beauty who floated inside the glass tank…

 

Layla was completely immersed in a sea of warm saline solution mixed with chemicals that relaxed her tanned, curvaceous, white-string-bikini-clad body.  Her eyes were closed, her mind in a deep, hypnotic sleep as her hair floated, dreamlike around her head like a halo.  Her breathing was rhythmic and shallow, a clear mask attached to her mouth and nose that supplied a mix of oxygen and a mild hallucinogenic. Two small plugs were attached to her ears, each providing a low, constant hum interlaced with subliminal suggestions that relaxed her mind further, while several electrodes attached to her temples and scalp gently stimulated various areas of her mind with electrical pulses.  Several more electrodes were attached to various parts of her body.  They monitored her biological signs in addition to providing additional stimuli.  The liquid kept her perfectly suspended, as a series of machines next to the tank recorded her life signs and reactions while providing different detailed scans and images of her.

 

Rupert Giles stood, mesmerized by the scene before him as he continued to observe Layla within what was called a “sensory deprivation, control and stimulus” tank.  Although he was at a loss to explain why, he’d requested he be given the task to conduct another batch of tests and experiments with Layla inside the tank.  He was supposed to monitor the various computer graphs and monitors during the experiment and to keep the outer cover closed so Layla was enclosed in complete darkness.  But something told him to do otherwise, to open the outer cover so he could watch this sleeping beauty, who he had come to know over the past few weeks and, as much as he was afraid to admit it, was no longer simply a research subject. She was his own personal goddess, a mystical creature that he could only gaze upon with such emotion that he wanted to touch her, to feel her and caress her…but alas, he knew he couldn’t.  It wouldn’t be proper, it wouldn’t be right.  And yet…the agony and ecstasy was unrelenting.  He brought up a hand and stroked the glass, almost imagining he could touch and stroke her, to please her, to tell her that he had fallen in love with…

 

A small beep from the console interrupted the scholar’s reverie, telling him that the treatments and the experiment were now over.  With a reluctant sigh, he moved away from the tank to the console and punched a button as he’d been instructed to do so by the lab personnel.  The saline solution slowly began to drain from the tank, gently lowering Layla’s relaxed body downward, until the liquid had completely drained.  Her eyes were still closed as she continued to breathe rhythmically, her mind still in a trance.  Rupert pushed another button and a series of electrical stimuli was gently applied to her mind and body, slowly waking her from her trance.  Layla blinked once, then several times before she slowly regained consciousness.  After checking the machines to ensure that she was fully awake, the Englishman undid the latches on the tank and depressurized it with a soft hiss before he opened it.  As the Englishman gently removed the various electrodes and monitoring devices from her body, the Frenchwoman lay perfectly still, allowing him to perform his task.  After he unmasked her and assured himself that she looked perfectly normal, Rupert gently helped her to her feet and tried not to stare at her sensuous body.

 

“Layla?  Can you hear me?  Do you feel all right?” 

 

Layla sat on the edge of the tank, her eyes closed as she took a moment to center herself.  Then she opened her darkly beautiful eyes and focused on him.  “I am quite fine, Rupert.  No need to worry.  I have already completed several sessions of this particular type of experiment, remember?  I have to admit it is both extremely…relaxing and stimulating at the same time.  I only wish I could do it more often.”  She then stood up and sighed as she stretched her muscles.  As he watched her move, Rupert couldn’t help but be reminded of the sleek sensuality of a jungle cat.

 

“Oh, ah, here.  You should, um, d-dry off.  Er, you don’t want to catch a cold, or anything…”

 

Layla finished her exercises, noticed the towel in Rupert’s hands, then smiled coquettishly.  “Now, why would I need that towel, Rupert?”  She slowly stalked toward him with a sensual grace.  “There is no need for that, mon cher.  I know you watched me while I was in the tank.  I know you liked what you saw. There is no shame in admitting how you feel about me.  You forget, mon cher…I can read your mind.”  She stopped within a whisker’s length of him, her shapely body only an inch from his tweed-clad own.  He trembled as she brought one of her lovely hands to his face.  “Your thoughts,” she continued, as she gently stroked his cheek. “Your wishes...” She cupped his cheeks with both of her hands. “Your desires...” She brought his face down to hers.  “Your dreams…”

 

Her lips melded with his, her kiss seared him like flame, as her tongue gently explored his mouth.  The Englishman, no longer able to resist, began to feverishly kiss the young beauty, first her mouth, then her face, then her neck.   The psychic sighed in surrender, her dripping wet body pressing and straining further against his tweed suit.  Then, no longer able to contain his passion, Rupert lifted Layla and sat her on a nearby counter.  He stepped away from her momentarily and frantically began to pull off his tweed jacket.  While he did so, Layla smiled and reached behind her back, and, with a single snap, allowed her top to fall away, exposing her beautiful, pomegranate-sized breasts to his hungry gaze. As he stared at the sight of Layla’s bare breasts, glistening in the dim light of the lab, she smiled and motioned for him to come to her. When he complied, she carefully slid both of her hands down to his crotch and unzipped his pants, all the while sharing a mesmerizing gaze with the scholar.  Soon, her fingers deftly caressed his manhood and caused the Englishman to moan.  Smiling, Layla then beckoned him forward and guided Rupert toward her breasts, which he began to kiss reverently.  Rupert slowly trailed his kisses down her lovely body, causing her to pant as his hands found the clasp holding her bikini briefs in place.  He unfastened it and tore the restraining cloth away.  His hands firmly grasping her buttocks, he gazed hungrily at her now-completely nude, beautiful form.  He gazed up, questioningly into Layla’s eyes, which now wore a pleading expression as she lifted her shapely legs and gently wrapped them around his neck.

 

“Touch me, Rupert,” she whispered, in a pleading voice. “Taste me…please.”

 

Giles, without further hesitation, obligingly did so, diving his head between her legs and snaking his tongue into her womanhood.  Layla’s hips bucked as she arched her back and cried soundlessly in pure, enraptured delight…

 

Unbeknownst to the two lovers, Alex Sinclair and Julian Stone watched their lovemaking from a darkened observatory booth.  Alex clearly had a look of jealous fury on her face, while Julian’s held a look of disappointment.

 

“That conniving, seducing bitch,” Alex hissed between gritted teeth. She felt ready to charge into the lab right now and show both of them just how powerful…and deadly her abilities could be.

 

“Hmmm, well, this is an…unfortunate development,” Julian said, frowning.  He looked with a note of concern at his ice-blonde companion.  “However, this shall be dealt with in a proper manner, in due course.  Now is not the time.”

 

Alex looked at the professor with cold fury evident in her deep blue eyes.  “Julian…I mean, Professor, how do you mean this is not the proper time? We should—“

 

The Professor narrowed his eyes at the lovely blonde woman.  “Alex, listen to me.  I am the Master, and you will submit.  Whatever I command, you obey.  Do you understand?”

 

Alex blinked several times, as if a switch had been thrown in her mind.  The anger began to evaporate from her face as she quietly stammered, “I…no, wait…I…”

 

Julian growled, “I am the Master, Alex, and you will obey.”  He clamped a hand firmly on her shoulder.  “Hear my voice…and obey.”

 

Alex’s face became completely calm, like an ocean after a storm had passed, as she spoke without emotion.  “Yes Professor Stone, I obey,” she said in a calm, blissful voice.

 

Julian nodded in relief, although his face was still tinged with worry.  He studied Alex closely and, satisfied that, at least for the moment that the blonde beauty was back under his control, he returned his gaze to Giles and Layla, who had now fallen to the lab floor, completely enthralled in their passion.  Julian’s own eyes narrowed with dangerous intent as he regarded the two lovers…

 

Giles and Layla opened and refocused their eyes on each other, and then noticed, to each other’s surprise, that they had drifted slightly closer together, standing no more than an inch apart.

 

“Layla…no,” Giles spoke in a hoarse, emotional yet firm voice as he gently pushed Layla away.  “I won’t go through it with you again.  I can’t.  Jenny is my life now.  Without her, I…”

 

The Frenchwoman’s own eyes widened in surprise, although the pain within them remained.  “Rupert, I…I did not come here to…to try to seduce you, or try to win you back from Jennifer.”

 

“Didn’t you?” The Watcher retorted, a note of hurt and anger creeping into his voice.  “After what happened that night where everything went to bloody hell, I’m not so sure.”  He refocused his gentle eyes on her dark, seductive ones as one last, bitter memory flashed before them…

 

“You BITCH!” Alex screamed as she clutched her head in pain, the psi bolt that had penetrated her defenses left her reeling as though someone had taken a dagger and stuck it directly into her mind.  She growled and refocused her attention on her enemy, who stood before her with a defiant expression and a sneer despite the pain that throbbed in her own mind, the result of Alex’s own psionic mind blasts.

 

Layla stood her ground, blood beginning to drip from her nose, as she glared at the woman who had once been her close friend, who had now gone completely ballistic when she had walked into the lab that day, only to find the Frenchwoman and Giles wrapped in each other’s arms in a passionate kiss.  When Giles tried to intervene, Alex projected a command into his mind that momentarily forced him to step back from the two women, who were now engaged in a deadly psychic duel with each other.  Julian had also walked in after noticing the commotion, only to find himself locked in an increasingly bitter argument with Giles that was now threatening to devolve into fisticuffs.  The buildup of psi-energy between the two powerful telepaths began to manifest almost as a physical presence, a tinge of ozone swirling within the room as lights overhead began to burst and electronic instruments began to overload and explode, while the two women and the two men dueled with each other.

 

“You bloody bastard!”  Giles hissed as he grabbed Julian by a fistful of his shirt and pinned him against the wall.  “I know what you’ve been really doing here!  You’ve been warping both Alex’s and Layla’s minds and trying to brainwash them into becoming your obedient slaves, you twisted pillock!”

 

“Bollocks!”  Julian sneered in reply, rage starting to form in his eyes.  “Everything was bloody well fine until I brought you here.  You were just supposed to be an assistant, nothing more, Rupert!”  He stared directly into the scholar’s eyes with an unveiled hatred as he continued to rant.  “Everything would have been fine and bloody dandy if you hadn’t decided to start fucking with my women—“

 

“YOUR women, you sick bastard?!”  Rupert roared, tightening his grip around Julian’s throat, slowly cutting off the professor’s supply of oxygen, forcing him to gasp for breath.  “I ought to kill you for what you’ve done!  You had no right whatsoever to violate them like that!”

 

“Oh, but I did, Rupert,” Julian said, continuing to gasp and wheeze.  “Yes, I made them my little lovely playthings.  But do you know what else I did? Through my experiments, I’ve finally unlocked their true potential.  Look at them, Rupert!”  He gestured with his eyes toward the two women, who were still engaged in their psychic duel, the air between them becoming more charged with mystic power as static electricity began to crackle and sizzle.  “Witness the power!  I have transformed them from mere, beautiful mortals into demigoddesses!  And do you know what that makes me, Rupert, dear boy?”  Julian grinned wickedly as his eyes took on an insane gleam.  “That makes me…a GOD.”

 

Rupert’s eyes widened as he realized that his one-time friend, the professor, had somehow truly gone over the edge in his obsession.  He felt the urge to give this bastard his just desserts now, but the more rational part of his mind told him to stop what could be a potentially fatal exchange between Alex and Layla.  He spared another glance at the two women, before he turned his attention back to Julian and angrily threw him into several shelves of computer equipment, causing the shelves to topple and shatter electrical parts everywhere as the professor went sprawling onto the floor.  With his former friend temporarily out of the way, Rupert turned his attention to the two women, electricity continuing to crackle and flow in the air between them as they continued their battle with each other, a distinctly hypnotic blue glow forming in each of their eyes as they felt the powers of their minds surge to unprecedented levels.

 

“Alex, Layla, STOP!”  Giles shouted as he moved towards them, then cried out as a console next to him exploded, the concussion sending him kneeling to the ground in pain.

 

Layla witnessed the scholar fall out of the corner of her eye, a shocked expression dawning on her face.  “Rupert!” she cried out, the mystic glow fading from her eyes as she turned and moved toward the fallen Englishman, her love for him taking precedent over her duel with Alex.  But then she realized, too late, the mistake she had made…

 

Alex refocused her powers on Layla’s mind, her own eyes now glowing a brilliant blue as she seized the opportunity before her and finally penetrated the Frenchwoman’s defenses, causing her to gasp and scream in pain, before her eyes shot open wide and her entire body stiffened and became immobile, as if she had become a marionette and someone had seized complete control of her strings.  Alex smiled darkly and focused more of her power into invisible hooks that dug into Layla and seized complete control of her mind and body.  Layla now stood straight and motionless, her arms dangling limply at her sides as she stared off into the distance with a vacant expression on her face.

 

“There, there, my pet.  No more silliness or games from you.  You’re my little plaything now,” Alex cooed, chuckling wickedly.

 

Giles, struggling to recover from the effect of the concussion, watched helplessly as Layla had attempted to run to his side and help him, only to be psychically assaulted and now possessed by Alex’s powers.  Giles shook his head and focused, quickly hatching a plan that he prayed wouldn’t be necessary.  As he mentally began to call up a spell in his mind, he turned to Alex.  “Alex, enough of this, release her now!”

 

Alex turned to Giles, the wicked smile she’d worn only a moment ago now chased off by the scholar’s words.  “Release her, Rupert?  Why? So she can play more of her kinky little games with you?  So she can get inside your head, just like I did?  Although, as much as I hate to admit it, she seemed to be a little better at it.”

 

Giles almost momentarily forgot the spell he was calling up as Alex’s words fell on him like a ton of bricks.  “What?  What are you saying?”

 

Alex smiled bitterly.  “Don’t you realize it, Rupert?  No, I suppose you don’t.  Layla manipulated you, she got inside your head, played with you like a cat toying with a ball of string.  That wasn’t your idea to be in the lab alone with Layla that night…it was hers, Rupert.  She simply planted the suggestion in your mind, is all.   That’s how the little bitch got inside your pants.  You’re wondering how I know this?  It’s because her mind is completely open to me now.  I know everything she knows.  Don’t I, dear?”  Alex taunted the Frenchwoman, who remained immobile and blank-faced, although now it seemed tears were beginning to stream down her cheeks.

 

Giles stared, open-mouthed in shock at Alex’s revelation, trying not to believe what she’d said, before his reverie was interrupted by Alex as she continued her rant.  “But this all ends now.  One tiny moment is all I need with this little bitch…to fry her brains, lobotomize her, render her a vegetable for the rest of her days…and then she won’t even matter.”

 

The scholar became horrified when he realized what Alex was going to do.  Rising to his feet, he looked Alex squarely in her eyes with a pleading expression.  “Alex, please…this has gone far enough.  Stop it, let it go…please.”

 

The lovely blonde stared back at Rupert, bitterness in her beautiful blue eyes as they began to glow again with mystic power.  “Let it go, Rupert?  I can’t let it go.  We could’ve been together, Rupert…and this bitch has gotten in the way, long enough.”  With that, she turned to Layla…

 

“NO!!”  Giles raised his hand, pointed it toward Alex, and shouted the incantation.  A brilliant blinding flash followed by a boom sounded within the remains of the lab as a bolt of lightning emerged from the scholar’s outstretched hand and struck Alex in her shoulder, causing the young blonde to scream in pain and agony as she flew backward, smashing into a computer terminal and slumping to the floor.  Layla gasped and fell to her knees, as Alex’s psychic domination over her was cut loose like someone slicing a puppeteer’s string.  The dark beauty held her head in her hands, wincing while the icy blonde groaned in pain.

 

Giles stood, looking and feeling almost shell-shocked as he realized what he’d done, before he noticed that both women were now staring completely wide-eyed at the scholar, shocked and awed at the display of arcane power that the scholar possessed. Both women continued to stare at him with a mix of wonder and fright as the Englishman now found himself in a dilemma, still caught between both women.  Should he check Alex first…or Layla…?

 

After a moment’s hesitation, Rupert walked over to Layla, who seemed to have some blood running from her nose, her eyes appearing to be somewhat dilated, but otherwise appeared to be fine.  As Giles gently helped her to her feet, he looked over to Alex, who painfully rose on her own legs, and it was then that Giles noticed the charred clothing around her left shoulder, the scorched flesh…

 

Witnessing the magic-using scholar helping the French psychic to her feet was too much for Alex, who now glared at both of them with a burning hatred.  “Damn both of you to hell for this!”  She screamed as she turned, clutching her shoulder in pain and ran, past Julian, who had now limped back to his feet after witnessing Giles’ display of power, and out the laboratory doors.

 

The professor surveyed the destroyed remains of his precious laboratory, then looked to the doors where Alex had run out, before swiveling his head back to Giles and snarled angrily.  “Rupert, I will see you suffer for this.  I swear it on my grave!”  Julian turned and then ran out the lab doors, calling out for Alex.

 

Giles almost considered going after them, but then decided against that course of action as he cradled the woman he loved…or at least, he thought he loved, in his arms as she wept.  “Rupert, what Alex said, about what I did,” Layla choked out, sobbing.  “I…I…”

 

Giles looked Layla directly in her eyes, his momentary sense of compassion giving away to a hint of anger.  “Is it true what she said…what you did to me?”

 

Layla stared at Giles as more tears began to form and run down her cheeks.  She was now beginning to wish that Alex had indeed lobotomized her…

 

 

The final, painful memory mercifully drifted away into nothingness as the Watcher and the telepath found they were back in the Sunnydale library, in the present day.  Both regarded each other with eyes filled with pain, with regret, with thoughts of what might have been…

 

“Rupert, don’t you see now?”  Layla whispered as she gently removed her hands from Giles’ head reluctantly, the tears in her eyes now finally spilling over.  “I was so sorry.  I still am.  I know it was wrong of me…to manipulate you like that.”

 

Giles silently regarded the telepath, before he gently cupped her cheek with one of his hands, trying to catch some of the tears that continued to streak downwards.  “Layla,” he began, his voice now even more hoarse with emotion than before.  “I still loved you.  You knew that.  When we stayed together, at least for a while after what had happened, when we would still touch, you knew I still cared for you.  You…you were my…you were everything to me.”  Giles then removed his hand as his voice took on a slightly bitter tone.  “But even then I still couldn’t bring myself to trust you again.  And I still don’t.”

 

“But I didn’t force you to fall in love with me, Rupert,” she said, her accented voice resounding with a bitter tone of its own.  “That first day, when we met, when I saw you in my mind, through the glass, when you saw me…when I touched you, when we touched each other, not physically, but…what we felt for each other, that was true, Rupert.  It wasn’t because of mine or anyone’s manipulations…it was just us.”

 

The Watcher’s voice became tight as he struggled to contain the conflicting emotions within him.  “Yes…it was us, Layla.  We did share something, together…but that was long ago. It’s over now.  Obviously, you’ve gone on with your life, and I’ve gone on with my life.  Jenny is in my life now, and Buffy is my ward. There’s nothing more to be said.”  With that, he turned toward the door.

 

“Rupert, wait!  Where are you—“

 

“I’m going out to…to get some air, Layla,” Giles responded, not turning around, although Layla now sensed, either through her sixth sense, or perhaps just her own intuition, that Giles was starting to cry as well.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”  Then he turned and walked out of the library.

 

Layla stood alone, hurting and full of regret.  No longer able to bear the pain, the beautiful woman reluctantly sat down at one of the tables, before she buried her face in her hands as her body was racked by sobs…

 

#

 

The rest of the day passed without incident, as the Slayerettes were each called into the library, one by one, by the Watcher team.  The team members sat them down individually and asked a multitude of questions.  The questions revolved around their involvement with the Slayer, what creatures they’d faced, if they had picked up any fighting skills, gotten involved in any mystical or witchcraft-related areas of study, how they felt knowing about the existence of vampires and demons, how they carried out their daily lives, etc. etc. etc.  During each interview (or interrogation as Xander and Cordelia had grumpily called it), Edward asked most of the questions in his usual droll tone, while Patrick studiously scribbled down notes and answers to Edward’s questions.

 

Layla also wrote down notes in addition to carefully observing and studying the emotional reactions shown by the Slayerettes during the interviews.  Knowing full well that Layla was telepathic, thanks to Giles’ warning, the gang did their best to keep a cool head and blank out any thoughts that might betray sensitive information to the Watcher team.  What struck the Slayerettes the most, though, was that despite her professional as well as alluring appearance, she also appeared to be much more subdued, even sullen since the first meeting in the library.  Giles, however, also seemed more reticent and withdrawn since that morning, leaving the rest of the gang to wonder if something may have happened between the two.  The last member of the Watcher team, Jericho, simply stood off to the side quietly, standing watch, watching the Watchers, Slayerettes, and the rest of the environment during each interview. His eyes constantly scanned like a hawk’s, while he continued to casually clutch the briefcase that Giles had seen him carry earlier.  Willow took a moment during her interview to observe the briefcase in his hand and catalogue it with her photographic memory, before letting the gang know later on from what she’d pulled up on some web sites dealing with military and security gear, that it appeared Jericho was carrying a rare type of custom briefcase designed to carry and shoot a submachine gun, in this case a compact “shoebox-shaped” Fabrique Nationale P90.

 

“Gee, getting a little extreme with personal protection devices, much?” Cordelia asked no one in particular.  The gang was in the library moving tables and chairs to prepare for the sparring match.  “I mean, I know some guys like to be careful, which is perfectly normal, but…isn’t that just taking it a bit too far?”

 

“Hate to say it, but Cordy’s got a point,” Xander added as he helped, or in this case pretended to help the Scoobies as they pushed the last table out of the way.  Outside, a light rain that had started began to increase in intensity and could be heard pattering against the roof and window panes.  The library had become somewhat dingy when the sunlight that normally filtered through the windows had been replaced by the dull gray light of the low hanging storm clouds.  Rumbles of thunder could be heard as the hands on the overhead clock in the library clunked into the five o’clock position. 

 

“I mean,” Xander continued, “what’s he doing bringing a freaking machine gun to school?  Go all Rambo on the school bullies, or something?”  The X-man pondered on that for a moment.  “Well, if that included Principal Snyder, it probably wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

 

Giles rolled his eyes once again at the tactless observations from Xander and Cordelia.  He mused that perhaps, they were indeed destined for each other, considering their habit for inane conversation.  “Willow, by chance were you able to learn anything more about our Mr. Saito, or Jericho for that matter, from your…ah, dread machine?” 

 

The little red witch smiled at the librarian.  “It’s called a computer, Giles,” she said, before frowning in thought as she leaned against one of the tables.  “Well, I got a hunch and did a little snooping around on some of the U.S. military databases.”  She then noticed the blanched look on the Watcher’s face.  “It’s a-okay Giles, I doubt anything I did was illegal…I think.”  Willow politely picked up a computer printout from Oz, who had been quietly studying it with a thoughtful expression on his face.  “Anyway, there doesn’t seem to be too much info listed about this Jericho guy.  Not even his family, or where he was even born for that matter. Except that he’s Japanese-American, and both of his parents died in some sort of…shootout when…ohmigod, on the day he graduated from Army basic training.”  A look of sadness marked the Wiccan’s features.  “Poor guy.  Apparently he went into the Army Rangers and saw combat in places like Colombia, Panama, the Gulf War, places like that.”  The Wicca’s witch green eyes widened slightly as she continued.  “Wow, it seems he earned some pretty neat decorations during his time, too.  Shortly after the Gulf War, he went to Officer Candidate School, graduated, and then…that’s it, everything else is blank.”

 

“Blank?”  Amy asked as she walked over to stand behind Willow’s shoulder.

 

“Yep, blank…um, except for when he left the Army, or rather, got kicked out, which was last year.” Willow cringed slightly.  “It says that he was stripped of his rank and given a discharge.  Ouch, that had to hurt.  Doesn’t say for what though…which is weird.”

 

“But if that’s the case,” Jenny piped up, both hands clasped behind her back as she leaned against the library counter in thought, “what’s he doing working with a Watcher team?”

 

Giles finished rolling out the mat, then stood and took off his glasses so he could wipe them with a handkerchief, usually a sign that he was perplexed about something.  “I believe Jenny raises an interesting point.  If that’s true, if he did leave the Army in disgrace for some reason, why is he now working for the Watcher’s Council, of all people?  From my own personal experience, when they hire anyone for security work, they tend to have rather high standards in regards to their professional backgrounds.”  The librarian perched his glasses back on his nose and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets.  “Very strange...” He then looked around the library.  “Ah, where’s Buffy?”

 

The Watcher’s question was answered when Buffy raced in through the library’s double doors, making a “ptooh” sound as she blew some wet strands of hair out of her face, which, along with the rest of her spandex-clad body, was dripping wet.  She muttered to herself as she took off her jacket and attempted to dry off.

 

“Hey, Buff, you know that you’re supposed to take a shower after you do your Slayer stuff, not before, right?”  Xander cracked, before taking another good, long look at the petite blonde in her form-fitting workout outfit, which was dripping wet… and found his eyes along with his brain going into “ogle” mode.

 

The Chosen One gratefully took a towel that Giles offered and proceeded to dry herself off.  “Had to go call my mom, let her know I wouldn’t get home until late tonight.  My cell phone went dead though.  Figures they had to have the pay phone outside in the freaking rain,” she grumbled, as she toweled her hair then noticed that Xander was gawking at her.  “What ARE you looking at?”

 

“Uh, nothing,” he stammered out quickly in reply when he saw Cordelia’s suspicious glare.

 

A few minutes passed before the Watcher team returned, with Edward and Patrick in front, and Layla and Jericho behind.  The Senior Watcher and his assistant, both wearing practically the same expressions they’d worn throughout the day, placed their briefcases on a nearby table and took out appropriate stationary for taking notes.  Layla, her apparent mood still quiet, had her own briefcase which she set on another table and took out her own items, while Jericho set a duffel bag next to hers.  Everyone also noticed that Jericho was now dressed in a loose-fitting, black kata uniform. 

 

“Well, I see everyone is here,” Edward droned in his usual bored tone.  “Ms. Summers,” he declared, his eyes narrowed distastefully at Buffy’s outfit, “do not mean to tell me you are going to commence this match, wearing…that.”

 

The Slayer briefly studied her tight spandex uniform before cocking an eyebrow at the Senior Watcher.  “Say, Mr. Trent, can I ask you a question?  Thanks.”  She cut off the Watcher before he could reply.  “You seem to really have something against women showing off their assets.  You wouldn’t by any chance, be, um…how can I put this delicately…?” 

 

The Senior Watcher’s eyes shot wide, before he glared at the young Slayer.  “I wouldn’t by any chance be what, missy?”

 

“Oh…nothing.”  The Slayer said with a bemused smirk on her face, as she cast a sidelong glance at the Slayerettes, who were all now snickering amongst themselves.  “Nothing at all.”

Edward’s face turned a visible shade of red, before he noticed out of his eyes the grin on Layla’s face, which she had attempted to hide rather unsuccessfully, and the twinkle in Jericho’s eyes as he regarded the Senior Watcher with a slightly bemused smirk.

 

“Let’s get on with this,” Edward growled, turning to the Chosen One and Jericho, who had now taken their places on opposite sides of the mat, facing each other.  The rest of the room’s occupants noticed that Layla sat on one end of the large room, her already short skirt hiked slightly higher as she crossed her legs, showing a full, sensuous view of them.  Jenny, who sat on the other side of the library, gracefully sat on a chair and crossed her legs seductively as well, the sheer skirt giving a full view of her own lovely dancer’s legs.  Buffy cast a quick glance at both women, who were continuing to shoot each other nasty looks, while she made a momentary adjustment to her own spandex outfit.

 

“Dude, it just doesn’t get any better than this,” Xander whispered appreciatively to Oz as he watched the competition between Jenny, Layla and Buffy.  “Did you bring any popcorn?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Ah…crap.”

 

Buffy took a moment to stretch a kink in her neck as she regarded her opponent.  He stood in a relaxed position, both legs evenly spaced in front, with his hands loosely clasped in front of him, while his dark brown eyes continued to scan the Slayer intently. Buffy was somewhat comforted by the fact that the guy had paid a fair amount of attention to the fact that Buffy’s “assets” were well displayed with the rather tight outfit she wore.  The Chosen One could somehow tell from his stance, the way he carried himself, and the way he was constantly aware of his surroundings, that this man was clearly much more dangerous than he appeared.  Buffy then realized where she’d seen such presence before…from her boyfriend Steve St. Wolf.

 

“So,” Jericho drawled, “I see you’ve brought your friends.  Are they supposed to be your pep squad?”

 

The Slayer smiled sweetly in reply, although it never touched her blue-green eyes as she stared down the security consultant.  “Nope.  They’re just here to watch me kick your ass to the curb.  And in case you’re wondering, I’m the pep squad.  See?  Watch.”  She began to imitate some basic cheerleader moves, pretending to have two pom-poms in her hands as she made several positions.  “Gimme a B!  Gimme a U! Gimme an F!  Gimme an F!  Gimme a Y!  What’s that spell?”  The blonde leaped in the air, her arms outstretched before landing back on her two feet easily.  “BUFFY!”

 

“If Buffy is ever going to become a cheerleader, she has got to learn better moves,” Cordelia noted with a grimace.

 

Jericho, on the other hand, continued to silently appraise the Slayer, neither his face nor the rest of his body flinching as he continued to stand, sentinel-like.  Buffy sighed at him with both hands on hips.  “What?  Did someone slip you a Valium this morning?”

 

The man smirked out of the corner of his mouth in reply, before rearing up and making a formal karate bow to the Slayer.

 

“Oooh, he bowed,” the Slayer snickered.  “Wonder if he’s still hoping to score with me?”  When she noticed the rather irritated expression on Jericho’s face, she spared a quick glance at Giles, who arched his eyebrows at her in a scolding expression.  Buffy sighed before making a more or less awkward bow of her own.

 

“Ready,” Edward called out, cuing the Slayer and the security consultant to take defensive stances.  “BEGIN!”

 

Neither opponent wasted any time as each swiftly attacked the other.  Buffy feinted a punch before launching a kick to Jericho’s abdomen, which the man dodged by twisting his body and deflecting it with his forearm.  Then he launched several jabs of his own at the Slayer, who deftly avoided each one with her uncanny speed.  Continuing to press her attack, Buffy countered with several of her own jabs and thrusts.  Without warning, after her fifth jab, Jericho grabbed her arm and twisted it.  Buffy stumbled, allowing Jericho to close within striking distance as he prepared to deliver several palm strikes to her chest.  However, as he brought his arm back to launch his attack, the Slayer whipped out her other arm, grabbed both of Jericho’s shoulders, rolled over backwards and launched him end over end into the air.  Then she vaulted back to her feet and turned around to see Jericho fly headfirst into the mat.

 

“Ooh, crash and burn, that’s gotta hurt,” the Slayer snickered, before Jericho took no more than a second to shake it off and vault to his feet.  He reassumed a fighting stance as he glared at her.

 

“I hope you can do better than that,” Jericho sneered.  “Or can you?”

 

Buffy narrowed her eyes and launched herself at her opponent.  Soon, both combatants were engaged in a furious, whirling duel of kicks, jabs, punches, and blocks as each opponent tried to find and exploit the other’s weaknesses.  As the spectators watched, it was clear that Buffy had the edge in power and speed, as she managed to deflect several of Jericho’s blows easily and counterattacked with several strikes that almost left him reeling.  Soon however, it became apparent that the security consultant was no slouch.  The man growled and continued to shake off Buffy’s blows, wincing after them but using the pain to drive himself onward.  Indeed, Giles noted, the man was cunning.  He used a series of moves that clearly were not the standard type of karate, kung fu, or tae kwan do that he had taught Buffy.  They appeared slightly more elegant, yet brutal in form, perhaps lethal if they were used against an ordinary mortal.  Jericho managed to land several blows on the Slayer, causing her to growl as she counterattacked and launched a snap kick to his abdomen, which sent him flying to the ground.

 

“Well, gotta admit you’re pretty persistent, especially for a guy who still doesn’t know how to score with me,” Buffy taunted as she wiped sweat from her brow.  Inwardly though, she was rather surprised at how long this commando-type was keeping up with her, despite getting beaten several times.  Some of his moves had also managed to catch her off guard, which made her curious as to where he’d learned to fight.  It seemed to her he was using another art form in addition to the moves she had already learned.  Although he was now clearly in pain, the man continued to shake it off and rose to his feet once again.

 

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” the man grunted, before he reared himself up again and launched several attacks of his own, which the Slayer countered before slamming her fist into his abdomen, causing him to double over in pain.  The Slayer then launched a snap kick to his head…which was halted when Jericho uttered a low growl and grabbed her leg before she could connect with his head.  As the Slayer’s eyes widened in surprise, Jericho cocked his free hand and blasted a fist into the petite blonde’s face, sending her crashing to the ground.

 

Alarm and concern registered on the faces of several of the onlookers, as Buffy shook off the stunning blow.  She tried to get back on her feet when she felt something wet drip into her eye and make it sting.  Assuming it was sweat, she flicked it away with her fingers.  That’s when she noticed the crimson fluid on her digits…blood.

 

Once upon a time, Buffy would have completely wigged if she so much as broke a nail.    After she had become the Slayer, she had more or less been forced by both her duty and circumstance to become accustomed to the sight of blood, among other ghastly things.  But it wasn’t the fact that she was bleeding that bothered her.  It was the fact that her Immortal Quickening would rapidly heal the wound in front of a bunch of nosy Watchers that nearly caused her to panic.  Quickly deciding on her best course of action, Buffy continued to sit on the mat, holding her head, pretending that she was still recovering from the blow, and hoping that the wound, however it was inflicted by that bastard, would heal quickly.  Then Buffy caught a glimpse of Jericho’s standing form, noticed the arrogant smirk on his face, and her blood began to boil…

 

“Ahhh, what’s this?  The Valley Girl can’t take a punch to the face?  Afraid to screw up those pretty looks of yours?”  Jericho sneered as he taunted her.  “And you call yourself a Slayer.  I’ve seen better stamina from…” The security consultant’s words stopped in his throat when he felt wetness on his fingers.  Looking down at his right hand, where he had an old ring, a memento from long ago, he saw Buffy’s blood staining his fingers. 

 

The sneer ran away from Jericho’s face as he stared at Buffy who was still sprawled on the mat, holding her head where she’d been struck as she glared back at him with her blue-green eyes full of pain.  Wincing as he realized that he’d unintentionally injured her, he gingerly took a step forward and offered a hand to her.  “Ms. Summers?  I—”

 

He never had time to finish as Buffy launched herself at him and focused all her Slayer strength and speed into her attack like never before, instantly turning into a whirlwind as she started to land blow after blow on Jericho.  The man tried to defend himself but found that this time he was clearly outgunned as the Slayer kept pouring on her speed and strength, transforming herself from a deceptively normal-looking California blonde into something resembling the She-Hulk.

 

“Is this what you wanted, Jericho?!” the Slayer screamed as she continued to hammer the young man.  Then she struck him so hard that he was sent sprawling down to the mat.  Relentless, Buffy straddled the fallen man and began to pummel him.  Deceptively dainty fist after fist smashed into his face and body as she continued her tirade.  “Do you get off on this, huh?  Does this make you hot?!  Is this what you wanted to see from me?!” She grabbed Jericho by the scruff of his collar.  He was beaten, no longer capable of fighting back, blood oozing from his nose and mouth, his eyes swimming as he found himself face-to-face with a woman who was a devastating, supernatural juggernaut.  The Slayer narrowed her eyes, which were now almost completely consumed with bloodlust as she drew back her other hand into a fist that would deliver a killing blow as she screamed, “Well, IS IT?!!”

 

“Buffy, stop!!”

 

The command from Giles reverberated throughout the library as Buffy remained mounted over the fallen form of Jericho, the arm that had been reared back to deliver a killing blow to Jericho frozen as she continued to grip his shirt with her other hand.  The petite blonde blinked several times, her chest rapidly rising and falling with every breath before she took a moment to stare at the nearly broken man in front of her, the arm that had been positioned to strike trembling, before it slowly lowered. 

 

“Ohmigod,” she whispered, realizing what she had almost done, before she released the man’s shirt, allowing his head to fall to the mat.  She heard a slight commotion that sounded almost a million miles away as she slowly began to back away from Jericho, only dimly aware that Layla had run to Jericho’s side and was now gently cradling the man, whispering words of comfort to him which he barely acknowledged as she checked him for injuries.

 

“Oh…my…god,” she choked as she continued to step away further, horrified when she realized what she’d been prepared to do.  She glanced at the faces of everyone there…Xander, Cordelia, Amy, Willow, Oz, Jenny, Layla, Jericho, Edward, Patrick…who all shared looks of horror at what Buffy had nearly done.  And at that very moment, the Slayer felt revulsion…for herself.

 

“Buffy,” Giles began, his eyes soft and welcoming as he approached her while she held her hand to her mouth with tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. “Listen to me very carefully…”

 

The Slayer almost bolted from the library, her legs wanting to carry her as far from that terrible place as possible.  However, she couldn’t leave because Giles had anticipated her every thought.  He grabbed her by the arm and commanded, “Buffy, look at me!” The little blonde found herself gazing into her Watcher’s gentle green eyes.  “Please listen to me.  It’s over.  You managed to regain control, you didn’t—“

 

“But I almost DID, Giles!” she wailed, unaware and unconcerned that everyone else in the library now stared at the Slayer and her Watcher.  Even Jericho watched, after he painfully turned his head toward them.  “I mean…oh God…I nearly killed him!” 

 

“But you didn’t, Buffy.  You stopped.  You didn’t go too far.” Then he drew his Slayer into an undemanding hug.  At first she weakly resisted then surrendered into his arms as she began to sob in earnest.  “It’s over now.  You didn’t lose control.  And do you know why?  It’s because you’re more than just ‘the Slayer.’  You’re my Buffy.  And I’m so very, very proud of you.”

 

Although she had stopped sobbing, her tears still trickled down her face for a happier reason.  Upon being succored by the solace of his arms and hearing him finally say that she was his for the first time since they’d met, Rupert Giles had once again become a god in Buffy Summers’ eyes.

 

#

 

In the library, several minutes passed as no one uttered a sound.  Everyone watched the Watcher continue to gently comfort his Slayer.   Cordelia and Xander stared in wide-eyed amazement at the disturbing scene.  Oz could only glare at the pair with a quizzical expression on his face.  Willow and Amy, however, regarded Buffy and Giles with suspicious looks as they watched the interplay between the petite blonde beauty and her tall and handsome Watcher…

 

Layla occasionally glanced at the Watcher and his charge while she tended to Jericho, as a look of reluctant acknowledgement dawned on her face.  Jericho continued to lay on the mat, his eyes barely opened as the Frenchwoman gently began to wipe the blood from his face with a gauze pad.  Edward harrumphed at what he’d witnessed, his cold eyes staring disapprovingly at Giles’ show of compassion for his Slayer, while at his side Patrick quietly observed, saying nothing.

 

Jenny, however, felt a strange mix of both pride for her English lover, this gentleman who wasn’t afraid to give support in a crucial hour of need to his Slayer, and awkwardness as she observed the body language displayed by the pair as they continued to embrace….

 

“Wow.” Cordelia’s whisper finally broke the silence. “That’s something you don’t see every day.  I mean, Buffy and Giles are acting kinda…friendly, aren’t they?”  Everyone who heard the brunette Amazon’s tactless observation stared at her incredulously, which caused her to get a slightly defensive look on her face.  “Well, dontcha think?”

 

Jenny rose from her chair to walk over to her favorite librarian and the Slayer, although part of her knew it was for some reason other than just wanting to comfort them both.  The Amazon witch strode over to the couple and gently laid a hand on each of their shoulders, before softly whispering, “Buffy, England is right.  You didn’t lose control.  You didn’t give yourself completely over to your anger.  You managed to retain that sense of what makes you more than just a Slayer.”  Buffy turned from her embrace to look at Jenny questioningly and Jenny gently smiled at her.  “You’re human, Buffy…just like the rest of us.”

 

The Chosen One sniffled and wiped the remaining tears from her face, before reluctantly releasing the Watcher from her embrace.  As she did so, the Slayer almost thought that she saw a momentary glimpse of relief flash across Jenny’s face.  However, she chased that thought away as the gypsy pulled Buffy into a warm hug of her own.  After a firm hug, the gypsy released her and gently brushed away a few strands of blonde hair that had fallen in front of the Slayer’s eyes.  “Just remember what Rupert and I said, okay?” she asked softly, to which Buffy nodded.  After that, the little blonde stepped away from the couple over to the prone form of Jericho, who was still being nursed by Layla.

 

“How…is he?” Buffy asked haltingly. 

 

Layla looked up from her task and regarded the Slayer with a sense of awe.  Yet, before she could speak, Jericho beat her to the punch.  “It’s not too bad.  I’ve had worse.  Gotta say, you sure as hell throw a mean right hook,” the security consultant muttered quietly, one eye partially closed.

 

“Jericho,” she whispered softly, “I…I’m so sorry for going off like that, I…”

 

“Stop it,” he cut her off harshly, his eyes now fully opened as he regarded the Slayer with a mixture of pain, and something else. At first the Slayer felt hurt, before she noticed what was in Jericho’s eyes. It was something completely unexpected…it was respect.

 

“Mr. Giles and Ms. Calendar…as much as I hate to admit it…are right.”  Jericho looked her squarely in the eye as he continued. “You managed to get a hold of yourself before going psycho.  It says a lot for a girl your age and what it is you do…much as I hate to admit that, too.  And you gave me a fair fight.  Well, as fair as me going against you, in any case.” He smirked slightly before he coughed, clearing his throat.  “You were a hell of a lot more honorable than some other…people I’ve faced.”  He closed his eyes again and laid his head back slightly in Layla’s lap, who continued to stroke his head gently with a wet cloth. “You’re definitely a fighter.” He then frowned momentarily.  “Just don’t expect me to bow to you or anything…not that I could do that at the moment, anyway.”

 

Buffy stood there for a moment, her mind silently processing what Jericho had said, before a small yet earnest smile graced her face.  “Thank you,” she said softly.

 

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered.

 

While everyone else quietly surveyed the exchange between the Slayer and Jericho, Edward harrumphed and droned, “Well, that was more or less an adequate display.  I would have expected more…but still adequate.”  He pretended not to notice the incredulous as well as annoyed stares from the Watcher and the computer teacher as he continued.  “Patrick, I assume you took proper notation?”

 

“Yes, sir,” the nervous assistant said dutifully.  “Although I think it may be better to organize some of these notes I’ve made and send them to our database.  Ah, Ms. Calendar?”  The gypsy raised an eyebrow at Patrick in acknowledgement.  “Would, um, would it be possible if I could make use of your, er, computer laboratory?  It may take a few minutes, but I would like to transmit some of these notes to the Council while they’re still fresh.”

 

The computer teacher cast a sidelong glance at Giles and smirked playfully, as she drawled, “You hear that, England?  Apparently, the rest of the Council has actually joined the Twenty-First century.  Will wonders never cease!”  Giles raised his hand to his mouth, pretending to cough as he hid a smile in response to the gypsy’s observation.  Jenny then turned back to Patrick with a more serious expression on her sensuous face.  “I suppose it would be possible, Mr. Nelson.  Assuming of course you’re not gonna take all night to do it…”

 

“Oh, no, no,” Patrick said, smiling slightly for the first time.  “I assure you it shouldn’t take long at all.”

 

Jenny spared a glimpse at Giles, who nodded.  Looking around the room and seeing that her presence probably wasn’t required at the moment, she nodded and went over to the library counter to retrieve her purse.  “I guess it won’t be a problem.  Follow me.”  With that, Jenny walked out the library with Mr. Nelson close behind.

 

#

 

Jenny and Patrick walked down the hallway to the computer lab, while the sound of rolling thunder continued to boom outside, seemingly louder than before.  The gypsy fished the keys out of her purse and unlocked the door, gesturing for Patrick to enter first, to which he obliged. 

 

“Er, which of these computers would have internet access, Ms. Calendar?”

 

The computer teacher set her purse on the desk at the head of the classroom, before turning to Patrick.  “All of them actually, but you may want to try that one in the corner, next to the window.  It seems to have a slightly faster connection than the rest.  Just give me a moment and I’ll get you set up.”

 

Patrick nodded agreeably.  “Thank you, Ms. Calendar.”

 

Jenny nodded in reply as she crossed over to the terminal and, with a flick of a switch, turned on the power.  She sat down in front of the computer and grimaced as another loud boom of thunder reverberated throughout the classroom.  She glanced momentarily toward the windows and watched the rain hammering against the window panes.  “Wow, it’s really starting to come down out there.  Looks like quite a storm.”

 

“Hmmm, indeed.”

 

The computer teacher clicked the mouse a few times, and, with a few short keyboard strokes, drew up the terminal’s internet access on the computer screen.  “Hold on, this might take a few minutes, connection seems to be acting a little freaky due to the storm.”  A few minutes passed before the computer teacher finally smiled in satisfaction.  “Well, that should do it, assuming we don’t lose power or the connection.”  She turned in her seat…only to find Patrick standing right behind her with a syringe in his hand…

 

Before she could react, the bespectacled man grabbed Jenny’s arm and plunged the syringe needle and its contents into her.  The computer teacher’s eyes went wide as she saw the evil smile that was now displayed on the face of Edward’s assistant, who only moments before had seemed docile and quiet.  The Amazon instantly felt a warm, tingling sensation race throughout her body as she attempted to fight off her attacker…only to find that her arms wouldn’t respond.  Neither would her legs.  She attempted to form words or even scream, only to find that her vocal cords wouldn’t respond either.  Her arms dropped to her sides, her legs gave out from underneath her and her body went completely limp in the chair, her head lolling back slightly, appearing for all the world like a broken marionette.

 

“There there, my dear…just relax,” Patrick purred smoothly, chuckling softly as he calmly drew a small black leather case from his jacket pocket and opened it, placing the empty syringe within it.  The Watcher’s assistant calmly placed the case on the computer desk next to the teacher, who continued to be sprawled in the chair, the gentle rise and fall of her bosom the only visible indication that she was alive, as her eyes stared off into space.  Patrick smiled darkly as he removed his glasses to affectionately regard the limp form of the gypsy, before he leaned over her and gently cradled her head with a free hand so she could see him, face-to-face.

 

“Now, I find this much better, Ms. Jennifer Calendar…or shall I say Janna Kalendah?  No matter, I suppose, since from this moment on I shall be the only one making conversation.”  He leaned in even closer, his face now only a few inches from her own. “Ah, but I suppose you’re wondering what’s happening?  Quite simple, really.  I gave you a nice little curare derivative that paralyzes you completely, except for your more basic life functions like breathing.  A wonderful little invention, actually.  It is rather particularly useful for subduing a lovely, yet dangerous creature such as you.” He sighed wistfully as his eyes trailed down the length of the beautiful woman’s gypsy-style ensemble, his other hand beginning to gently caress her shapely bosom. 

 

“You are indeed lovely my dear,” Patrick continued in a whisper as his hand trailed down to her skirt, gently feeling the sensual curves of her legs beneath the sheer skirt that she wore. “No…you are in fact, magnificent.  Almost as if, oh, like you might have stepped out of a Raphaelite painting into the modern world.  But I digress.” He then grinned mirthlessly as he continued to stare into the gypsy’s wide, lovely chocolate eyes.  “That Greek bitch Artemis certainly knows how to select her Amazons…just like that bastard Rupert Giles seems to know how to select his women.  Oh, but what’s that?  You’re wondering how I even know such things. Simple…it is my job to know many things.” He chuckled again.  “Such as, I know that Bitch Goddess of yours had a neat little ritual planned for Beltane, where she would undoubtedly try to re-establish Her presence again.  But I…or shall I say, my ‘employers’ and I certainly can’t have that now, can we?  Rather, I have a much more interesting plan for you, my dear. It’s not entirely business, of course.  I would say, it is a mix of business, pleasure, and…a little vendetta of my own.” His normal-looking eyes suddenly began to turn a malicious golden color, the pupils becoming slit like a snake’s.  “Something you shall discover, soon enough.”

 

She might have screamed if it wasn’t for the fact that her vocal cords were completely paralyzed.  However, all she could do was continue to stare at Patrick’s now malevolent, snakelike eyes, which gave her all the reason to assume Patrick wasn’t entirely human.  She remained helplessly immobile as he casually withdrew another syringe from the black case and carefully pushed the needle into her arm.  She frantically tried to think of some way, any way she could contact her fellow Amazons or her lover, then wondered if she could perhaps, somehow send a telepathic call to the one man she loved more than anyone.  She managed to form one single, coherent thought in her mind, of the gentle-eyed Watcher, before the syringe’s contents overtook her senses and she felt her eyelids grow heavy, as her mind began to fall into a deep sleep. 

 

“Rest now, my beauty,” Patrick cooed affectionately, as he bent over further to plant a kiss on Jenny’s forehead.  The gypsy’s eyelashes fluttered several times before they gently closed…

 

#

 

“Giles?”  The voice of his Slayer caused the Watcher to look up from his mundane task, where he was adding milk and sugar into steaming cups of Earl Grey tea.  The Englishman had decided to put some tea and butter shortbread cookies, or “biscuits” as he preferred to call them, together for the gang and the Watchers as they waited in the library.  He noticed an odd expression on her face, one that he didn’t see often….the look of a child, wanting advice and direction.  “Can I, um, ask you a question?  It’s nothing big or anything.”

 

Giles blinked once then turned from his task to regard his Slayer affectionately.  “Oh, ah, yes of course, Buffy.  How may I be of service?”

 

The petite blonde looked downcast momentarily, shuffling her feet a little, before she gazed into the gentle green eyes of her Watcher.  “I was actually just wondering if you had any advice for me…well…after that sparring match I just had with Jericho.”  She leaned closer to him and continued in a quieter voice.  “I mean, shouldn’t I have been able to beat that guy quicker than that?  He seemed to be able to keep up with me pretty well for being a regular guy, or commando, or whatever.”

 

“Actually,” Giles said in a quiet voice of his own.  “We did find some interesting information about him.  I don’t think, from what I saw, he’s necessarily just an ordinary security consultant.”  He then relayed to the Buffy what they had found out earlier about Jericho, causing the blonde to purse her lips thoughtfully as he continued.  “But ah, in regards to your question, perhaps you rely too much on your Slayer strength and speed.  Indeed, at the risk of sounding, er, what would be the term…?”

 

The Immortal Slayer regarded him wryly.  “Like a nag?”

 

Giles cleared his throat slightly.  “Ah, y-yes…a nag.  Buffy, despite the training I’ve given you plus the additional training from Mr. St. Wolf, you’re not quite using all the knowledge we’ve imparted to you.  Perhaps you ought to consider applying a little more finesse and technique in your future battles, rather than…” The Watcher suddenly paused.  He didn’t know how or why, but he could have sworn he heard something in the back of his mind…no, maybe a thought, echoing somewhere…about Jenny?

 

“Giles?  Uh, Earth to Giles, hello, does anyone copy?”

 

The Watcher blinked again before returning his attention to his charge.  “Ah, I’m sorry Buffy, please forgive me. I thought…I’m sorry, would you excuse me for a moment?”

 

The Slayer now looked clearly confused.  “Well, yeah, sure…but why?”

 

Giles shook his head.  “I’m sorry, it’s just…I think I should go check on Jenny.  I shan’t be long.”  He began to walk toward the double doors, before he paused to regard the rest of the library’s occupants.  “Ah, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check on Jenny…er, Ms. Calendar.  I shall return shortly.  In the meantime, there are tea and biscuits on the counter; please help yourselves.”

 

Oz exchanged a look with Xander.  “Dude, why do those English guys always keep calling cookies ‘biscuits’?”

 

Xander shrugged.  “Who cares?”  Both of them walked over to the assembled tea and sweets arranged on the counter, ready to indulge themselves…before the sound of clearing throats behind them caused them to swivel their heads in unison to see Cordelia, Amy and Willow standing behind them.

 

“Say, guys,” Willow asked casually, “would you mind going with Giles to look for Jenny?  Just, you know, in case he needs help, or anything?”

 

A look of slight bewilderment crossed the X-Man’s face as he grabbed a cookie from the serving platter and bit into it.  “Help with what?  G-Man avoids computers like they were the plague, but that’s not something we can help him with.”  His voice came out slightly garbled as he talked around chunks of cookie in his mouth.

 

“Just go,” Cordelia directed in a deceptively sweet voice, as she stalked closer to Xander with both hands on her shapely hips. “Now.”  The brunette Amazon’s beautiful eyes then narrowed and took on a deadly gleam as she continued.  “Oh, and Lame-O?  What did I tell you about NOT talking while you’re eating?  Do that disgusting Porky Pig imitation of yours again, and you won’t be eating anything unless it’s through a straw, got it?”

 

At the brunette Amazon’s words, Xander paled immensely.  “Uh, right Cordy, gotcha.  Let’s go, Oz.”  The werewolf shrugged in reply and the young men both followed Giles, who had a confused look of his own at the exchange, out the double doors of the library.

 

The three Amazon sisters looked at one another momentarily, before turning their attention to the Slayer.  “Buffy?”  Amy queried.  “Can we…uh, talk to you for a moment?  Matter-of-privacy sort of thing?”

 

Buffy glanced at Edward, Layla, and Jericho, who was now back on his feet after a shower and change of clothes, albeit painfully.  The three were helping themselves to the tea and cookies on the counter, although she noticed the curious looks from the Frenchwoman and the security consultant directed their way.   The Slayer shrugged and said, “Sure.  Uh, let’s just talk over there.”  She gestured to a shadowy corner of the library, situated away from the Watcher team.  The girls all nodded in reply and the quartet shuffled over to the corner, all the while looking over their shoulders at the Watchers to make sure they weren’t being spied upon.

 

“Okay, ladies.”  Buffy sighed.  “The official ‘Girl Talk’ session is now open for business. So, what’s the what?”

 

The Amazons all exchanged looks, before Cordelia finally cleared her throat and posed the question that was on their minds.  "So, Buffy...how can I put this delicately?  I know!  So when exactly did your Watcher decide to channel Humpert Humpert and you his trampy little Lolita?"

 

Buffy blankly regarded the tall brunette for several beats before she could actually summon the presence of mind to respond.  Then she lifted her hand and asked, "Raise your hand if your response to Cordy's question is...'huh?'"

 

Amy rolled her eyes momentarily before she glared at the brunette Amazon.  “Way to be tactful and diplomatic, Cor!”

 

“Well, it WAS kind of tactful and…and diplomatic!” Cordelia said huffily.  “I mean, it’s not like I’m directly asking Buffy if she’s, um…how can I put this delicately?”

 

Amy groaned.  “Cor, just give it up already!  You missed the ‘Delicate Boat’ a long time ago!”

 

“If I’m WHAT?”  Buffy squeaked.  She didn’t like the direction this conversation was heading….then it finally dawned on her exactly what Cordelia had meant.  The Slayer’s face nearly turned white as a ghost’s.  “What are you saying?!  Ohmigod…I mean, that’s just…EWWWW!”

 

Willow growled and sharply elbowed Cordelia in the ribs, hard, causing the brunette to yelp and glare at the little red witch.  "Cordy, I swear!  We can't take you anywhere!"  The Amazon Wicca then turned to the Immortal Slayer.  "However, Tactless Girl does have a point.  You and Giles seemed like you were both in your own little world just then.  And there was last night when he was dancing with Jenny and you kept giving them the hairy eyeball.”

 

Buffy’s left eyebrow nearly shot up toward the ceiling.  “The ‘hairy eyeball,’ Will? 

 

“Don’t try to change the subject, ‘Buff.’  I’m on to your wily ways!”  As the Slayer shot a bemused look at Willow, mouthed the words, “wily ways,” and cocked a perfectly groomed right eyebrow, Willow continued her tirade.  “I've never seen you react to him like that before, not even when you both tried to die in the other one’s place during that Eyghon thing.  I just want to know that you two aren't...becoming confused...and stuff...‘cause confusion leads to hurt feelings and jealousy and other kinds of...stuff...”

 

Buffy held both her hands up and backed away slightly.  “Guys, it’s just a Watcher/Slayer thing, really.  Seriously, do you think I actually have something going on the side with Giles, or would want to have something going on with him?  Why that’s just deeply, deeply disturbing!  I mean, he’s my Watcher and he’s just…well, it’s just that he’s, just, you know…” The Slayer fumbled momentarily then received the answer she sought from divine providence.  “He’s just…old.”

 

Cordelia cocked a perfectly groomed eyebrow at that.  “Methinks thou dost protest too much,” she mocked in a sing-song voice.

 

Amy rolled her own beautiful blue eyes in response to Buffy’s inane observation.  “Old?  Get real, Summers!  Let’s review, shall we?  You’ve dated a vampire that’s over two centuries old.  In relation to that, Giles is like a toddler!  And you’re dating a guy who’s almost as old as Giles right now!  Now let’s examine your Watcher.  He’s currently dating a very beautiful and intelligent woman, he’s dated not one, but two hotties who are both telepathic, he’s probably smarter than Einstein, he knows five languages fluently, he’s a gentleman, and nearly every girl who walks into the library swoons over his dreamy accent.  Goddess, Buff, haven’t you ever noticed that he’s got that whole suave, debonair, James-Bond-thing going on, along with a hidden bad-boy-streak to boot?!”

 

“No,” Buffy drawled, “but apparently, you have, Amy.”

 

When she saw Buffy’s condescending look, Amy sighed.  “Look, we just want to make sure you’re not suddenly getting all into Giles, okay?  I mean, we just wanted to make sure you weren’t, you know, going to cause problems for Jenny, or Giles…or, for that matter, us.”

 

The Slayer placed both hands on her tiny hips and stared each Amazon squarely in the eye.  “Look guys, I appreciate this…well, actually, I don’t and, I must say, I find this seriously disturbing.  Trust me, we’re not reenacting Nabakov’s novel in the library and…” Her sentence was interrupted when her Watcher burst through the double doors, with Oz and Xander right behind. “Giles?”

 

Everyone in the library, save the two boys, turned from what they were doing and saw the panic that was clearly etched on the Englishman’s face.  “Jenny!  Are you in here?  Jenny!”  The Watcher’s face seemed to be growing even more frightened and stressed by the moment.

 

“Giles, take it easy!  Jenny’s not here, she’s in the computer lab…um, isn’t she?”  Buffy’s question was answered with a panicked glare from her Watcher.  Oh, crap…

 

“No, she bloody well isn’t in the computer lab!  In fact, Patrick’s not there, either.”  Jericho and Layla walked over to Giles, alarm on both of their faces.  “All we found was this.” He showed them Jenny’s purse.

 

Buffy’s own eyes widened along with everyone else’s.  “Uh, Giles, maybe she and Patrick both went to the bathroom. I mean, not together or anything.  Actually…man, you don’t think that…”

 

“They were kidnapped?”  Xander squeaked out in a slightly panicked voice of his own.  “Well, even though this isn’t ‘Jeopardy,’ I hate to say you might have just answered the Five-Hundred Dollar question.  We also found this.”  He showed them a small black leather case, with two empty syringes inside.

 

“Oh Goddess,” Willow whispered, horrified.

 

Jericho narrowed his eyes momentarily.  “Xander, may I?”  Without bothering to wait for a reply, he took both syringes out of the case, brought them to his nose and sniffed.  After a short pause, he sniffed again, then nodded grimly as he placed both syringes back in the case.  “I hate to tell you this, but one of ‘em smells like curare.  Poison, or maybe a derivative.  The other, though, doesn’t smell too much like it, more like a serum.”  He then noticed the quizzical looks regarding him.  “What?  Oh…I have a certain knowledge of such things.  Tools of the trade, if you will.”

 

Layla’s own dark eyes widened even further at Jericho’s revelation.  “You…do not think that one of them may have been kidnapped, and the other…but wait, that does not make any sense.”

 

Buffy’s looked at Layla suspiciously.  “Why wouldn’t that make any sense?”  Before she could ask further, her Slayer hearing detected movement several yards behind her.  She whirled around to find Edward quietly walking toward the rear emergency exit door.  “Excuse me, but where do you think YOU’RE going?”

 

Edward stopped dead in his tracks and regarded the Slayer along with the rest of the library’s occupants, appearing for all the world as if he’d been caught attempting to escape from Sing Sing.  “Oh, ah, I was just going out back to smoke a cigarette.”

 

Buffy’s Watcher narrowed his eyes dangerously.  He could bloody well tell that something was rotten in Denmark.  “Out in the rain, Edward?”

 

A panicked look crossed Edward’s face before he turned and vaulted for the exit door.  Buffy was already hot on his tail, when a chair sailed through the air and smacked Edward’s legs right where it hurt, causing him to groan and fall to the ground.

 

Buffy looked to where the chair had been thrown from and noticed Cordelia standing there.  “Nice toss,” she remarked wryly.

 

“Thanks.  Dweeb boy gives me lots of practice.  He inspires me too.”  The brunette Amazon shot a meaningful glare at her boyfriend.

 

The petite blonde turned and strode over to Edward, then grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and dragged him over to the library counter.  She lifted him up and slammed him against the counter and got in his face, her deceptively dainty hand clasped around his throat while her normally pretty features were twisted into a deadly snarl.

 

“If something has happened to Ms. Calendar, Edward, I will be really, really upset at you.  And I think it’s fair to say that when I get really, really upset at something or someone, soon after, that particular something or someone ends up really, REALLY…dead.  Now, I think you really don’t want to get me really, really upset and the best way for you to avoid having that happen is to tell me everything you know about what has happened to Ms. Calendar and to tell me really, really…NOW!”

 

Lightning flashed through the rain-streaked windows as the storm continued to gather in strength, briefly illuminating Edward’s face, which was now contorted in an expression of extreme panic.  “I…I don’t know anything! P-please just let me go!”

 

“Sure, I’ll be happy to let you go…” Buffy’s eyes darkened considerably as she leaned slightly closer to Edward’s sweaty face.  “After I break your arms and legs, that is.”

 

The Senior Watcher gazed pleadingly at Buffy’s Watcher, whose furious expression gave no hint of pity.  “Giles!  Command your Slayer to release me this instant!”

 

Giles continued to glare at Edward momentarily, before switching his gaze to Layla.  The Frenchwoman caught his look and regarded him with a curious expression on her face, before her eyes shot wide open as her extrasensory abilities immediately sensed what Giles wanted her to do.  Her throat tightened as she considered what the Englishman had silently asked her to do…before hesitantly nodding her head in response. The Watcher nodded and stared at the panicking Senior Watcher, still held in a viselike grip by his Slayer.  “Buffy, let him go.”

 

The Slayer shot Giles one of her “are-you-crazy” looks…only to receive a knowing smirk in reply.  “Trust me, Buffy…let him go.”

 

Buffy glared at Edward a final time before she released her vise-like grip on his throat, leaving the Senior Watcher to momentarily gasp and wheeze.  “Thank you, Mr. Giles.

I—”

 

“Layla,” Giles interjected in a cold voice, cutting off Edward as though he wasn’t there, “Probe his mind.”

 

Everyone except Buffy stared at Giles in silence for a moment.  His Slayer, though, shot her Watcher another “are-you-crazy” look.  “Whoa there, Giles…hold the phone!  Are you freaking nuts?  You’re asking us to trust Little-Miss-Jean-Grey here,” she indicated the Frenchwoman with a wave of her hand “who, for all we know, could be involved in this whole freaking mess?!”  The blonde along with her friends turned to glare at both Layla and Jericho suspiciously, while the psychic and the security consultant began to look slightly uncomfortable.

 

“Mademoiselle Summers,” Layla spoke softly in a pleading voice, “you must believe that neither I nor Jericho had anything to do with this.  In fact, we…we were not even originally scheduled to be part of this group up until the last minute. We know nothing about this, please trust me.”

 

Buffy continued to glare at Giles’ ex-lover as she retorted in a voice dripping with sarcasm.  “Sorry, Layla, but we’re running a little low on our stock of ‘trust’ right now, maybe you could try back later.”

 

“Buffy!”  Giles interjected sternly, “We don’t have time for bloody arguments!  If you’re unwilling to trust Layla, please at least trust me.” His last sentence caught the Slayer off guard, causing her to stop and consider what her Watcher had said before she belted out any more sarcasm.  After a moment passed, Buffy reluctantly nodded and stepped aside.

 

“Remember, Layla,” Giles cautioned his ex-lover.  “We just want the information.  I don’t want him damaged…just yet.”  The psychic nodded in reply and turned her gaze toward the Senior Watcher.

 

“You, you would do bloody well not to try anything, Ms. Constantin,” Edward stammered, his eyes wide as he attempted to back away.  “I, I’m a Senior Watcher, I command you to—“

 

“No, you will not command me or anyone to do anything, Monsieur Trent,” Layla said coldly as she stepped forward and locked her dark, sensual eyes on Edward.  “Rather, it is I who will command you to do whatever I say…and you shall do so, whether you wish it or not.”  Her eyes narrowed and twin, hypnotic blue pinpricks of light began to emanate from within her irises, while the Senior Watcher’s face became suddenly contorted, his eyes unable to look away from hers. For a moment it appeared as if he was inwardly attempting to resist…before his entire body shuddered and then stiffened, a slight gurgle emanating from his throat before he became completely still, although his eyes remained wide, as if swallowed by Layla’s intense gaze.

 

“Uh, I somehow get a feeling this isn’t gonna be pleasant,” Buffy whispered.  She looked uncertainly at her Watcher and noticed his cold gaze targeted on Edward, as she quietly considered what Layla was going to do.  It made her shiver slightly.  For a moment she almost felt sorry for Edward.  Almost.

 

“Now, Edward, sit over in that chair,” Layla continued calmly, gesturing to a nearby oak chair.  The Watcher turned and walked over to it rather stiffly, as though he were a puppet, before he sat down and gazed off into space.  The psychic walked over to Edward, the clicking of her heels echoing throughout the library, and stood in front of him before gripping his chin with her right hand and guiding his wide-eyed gaze directly into her own, which now began to intensify.  *You will now reveal everything I wish to know, Edward*, the psychic said to Edward telepathically. *Do not attempt to resist me, for it shall be futile and you shall only bring pain to yourself* The Frenchwoman then guided her hands up to his temples, pressing her fingertips against them as her mind began to penetrate further into Edward’s own…

 

Everything it seemed, became distant, a timeless void as Layla’s consciousness began to explore and unearth a kaleidoscope of memories buried within Edward’s mind, images and sounds of times past flying past her as she sought to find what it was that Edward was hiding…until she sensed an obstacle before her, a wall that attempted to hide something from the psychic.  Layla narrowed her eyes further and methodically began to remove the wall as though it were made of brick, piece by piece at first, then segment by segment, with efficient and ruthless ease.

 

Edward began to gurgle slightly, his eyes widening further, silently begging her not to take that wall down, not to go further and see what he sought to hide.  The psychic answered by mercilessly tearing down the rest of the wall within his mind with a single, easy stroke of her powers….and then witnessed what Edward had been hiding.

 

The Frenchwoman’s eyes widened in shock and horror before she quickly withdrew her presence and her hands from Edward’s mind, leaving the Englishman to gasp and sob in pain and fear…before Layla struck him across the face with such force that he nearly tottered over.

 

“You sick, twisted, evil bastard!”  Layla growled, her hands tightened into fists.  “You were foolish enough to summon him?”

 

“Layla,” The sound of Giles’ voice turned the psychic’s attention from the Senior Watcher to her ex-lover.  “What do you mean, whom did he summon?”  The Slayer’s Watcher then realized what she meant, his face turning pale.  “Oh, bloody hell…just who or what did he summon?”

 

Layla paused for a moment and looked uncertain.  “Rupert, what I saw…mon dieu, I’m not sure you want to see…”

 

“Yes, we do,” Buffy snapped, surprising everyone else in the library as she stepped forward.  The Slayer narrowed her own eyes at the psychic.  “We don’t have time to waste.  If Jenny’s in danger, then show us what you saw.  Show all of us.  You can do that, can’t you?”  Without waiting for a reply, the blonde went on.  “Then do it!”

 

The Frenchwoman regarded the Slayer momentarily before reluctantly nodding.  She then closed her eyes for a second and gathered her thoughts, before she opened her eyes again.  Her dark green orbs flashed with a mystical blue glow as her powers coiled, then burst from her as images flew into the minds of each of the assembled Slayerettes and Jericho, causing them to clutch their heads in pain as the sudden fury of the vision exploded before each of them…of Edward, standing in a darkened room, surrounded by a pentagram and sigils drawn in chalk on the ground, a ceremonial dagger in hand, as he chanted an incantation in a long-dead language.  The room was dimly lit by several candles that were set at each point of the pentagram, while wax dripped and congealed from each one onto the wooden floor.  Several feet away from the pentagram, another circle was drawn in chalk on the floor, with several sigils inscribed around it as well.  In this circle laid a prone, unconscious body…Patrick.

 

Edward finished the incantation with a shout as he extended his arm with the dagger and traced a sigil in midair.  Moments later, the air itself was rendered with a crackle of arcane power, as space itself began to fissure and rip apart, revealing a crack in reality leading to a void of endless darkness…from which spilled fourth a serpent-like creature with dripping venomous fangs and golden reptilian eyes that glowed with an unholy power.  The serpent reared up and inspected the prone body within the circle that began to stir. Patrick blearily opened his eyes and looked up into the unholy visage of the serpent creature…and had only enough time to scream once before the demon shot forward with a snap, its jaws and fangs extended, as it devoured the man in one swift, brutal stroke…

 

Everyone in the library, save Edward, gasped and shook their heads, attempting to clear their minds of the horror they felt from what they had all just witnessed…before they turned their attention to the Senior Watcher, who had started to get up from the chair but was now frozen as everyone stared at him. The Slayerette’s expressions changed from horrified shock to anger and revulsion, particularly Giles.

 

“Holy crap,” Buffy whispered in complete horror.  “So this means that guy we saw…it really isn’t Patrick, is it?  It’s…it’s whatever-the-hell ate him?!”

 

The Slayer’s Watcher strode over to Edward and grabbed him by the scruff of his collar.  He pulled him up, his eyes flashing with a deadly gleam.  “You incredible fool, you offered Patrick as a sacrifice in order to summon Hekhmut?!  Are you out of your bloody mind?!”

 

“Wait a sec, Giles,” the Slayer interjected, a questioning look on her face momentarily replacing the revulsion and disgust she felt.  “Hecky-who?  Hack Mutt, or something?”

 

“Hekhmut,” Giles corrected with a growl, his furious gaze never leaving Edward as he continued to hold him.  “He’s a demon associated with the infernal aspects of Egyptian mythology, often summoned by those who worship the dark God Set to act as a sort of intermediary or guide, or to carry out wishes by those who summoned him.” 

 

“Oh,” Buffy said, blinking. “Is that all?”

 

The Watcher turned and regarded his Slayer incredulously, before Layla gently cleared her throat. “Buffy, Hekhmut is also known as the offspring of Apep, the mighty serpent who battled Ra in his attempt to devour the sun.”

 

The Chosen One processed that for a moment, before her reply came out in a tinier voice. “Oh.”

 

The Slayer’s Watcher turned his menacing gaze back to Edward. “Indeed, however he can be contained, provided he’s appropriately bound and given an appropriate sacrifice, that is.  And I’m willing to guess you completely botched the ritual and not only did you murder Patrick, you bastard, you actually let that demon get loose in this world, didn’t you?!”

 

The Senior Watcher stared back at Giles, shivering as he saw the terrible rage on his face.  “It was just s-supposed to be a little m-minor summoning,” he stammered.  “Just call up a demon from the lower Hells, ‘twas all, and use him to curry a few favors.  I-I only thought the ritual would summon a minor demon at best, not something like Hekhmut. And I only thought he would need a little blood from Patrick, not devour him.”  Edward’s own eyes then narrowed into a show of defiance. “I didn’t think it was any different from what you did in your days as the Ripper, Giles.  Oh, of course, you can summon all sorts of demons and create all sorts of mayhem, but the moment you come crawling to the Watcher’s Council, they forgave you of your sins and allowed you right in the front door, all because of your dear father, Edwin—”

 

The sound of Giles’ fist smashing into Edward’s face resounded throughout the library as his blow sent Edward sprawling onto the floor with blood spurting from his nose.

 

“Edward, I hardly think you are in any position to say anything in your defense at this point,” Giles drawled darkly as he stood over Edward’s prone form, his hands balled into fists and ready to strike again.  “And if you wish to live to see tomorrow, do not mention my father’s name, ever again.  As I was saying, Hekhmut should have devoured you, but he didn’t, WHY?!”

 

Edward held a hand to his nose in a vain effort to stop the bleeding.  “He…after he assumed Patrick’s identity, he said he could find a use for me…in whatever it was he was plotting, and in return, he’d help with my political aspirations within the Watcher’s Council.  He said…that he and his ‘associates’, whoever they were, needed him to go to Sunnydale to stop the Amazon’s Beltane ritual.”  At the shocked looks on the faces of the other Slayerettes, Edward suddenly found enough courage to sneer.  “Don’t be surprised.  You think I didn’t know?  Hekhmut told me everything…about the Amazons, about your witches, even about your alliance with the man known as the Wanderer.”  At the mention of that name, Jericho’s eyes widened at first then darkened considerably as Edward continued to rant.  “He said he was going to use some vampire pack known as the Hell Riders as hired muscle while he uses Jenny to…to…”

 

“He plans to use Jenny for WHAT?!!”  Giles roared.

 

Edward licked his lips momentarily then continued.  “He said he was going to use Jenny in some sort of ritual…to create another one of his kin.”

 

At the very mention of Edward’s final revelation, Giles turned white as a sheet.  “Oh, Jenny…please God, no.”  He then snarled once again as he hauled Edward up onto his feet.  “You are going down for this, you bastard.  On behalf of the Watcher’s Council, I hereby place you under arrest for the murder of Patrick Nelson and for aiding, abetting and conspiring with demons.  Try to resist or run away, you little pillock,” Giles bared his teeth, “And I will not hesitate to destroy your very mind…that is, after my Slayer, her friends and the Amazons have had their turns with you.”  As if in reply, Buffy, Cordelia, Willow and Amy nodded grimly and stepped forward, both the Slayer and the brunette Amazon flexing their knuckles.  Meanwhile Willow and Amy hissed small incantations and a small pyre of flame appeared in the little red witch’s left hand, while a razor-sharp icicle appeared in Amy’s right hand.

 

“You…you won’t do anything, Giles,” Edward stammered, hoping to gain some sort of leverage, “Because know this; if you try to turn me over to the Watcher’s Council for questioning…I’ll expose you.  Oh yes, I’ll expose you all!”  The Senior Watcher stabbed his finger at the assembled Slayerettes before continuing.  “I’ll tell them everything I know, about your precious Amazons, your witches, your gypsy bitch, everything!  And even if you manage to kill me, rest assured the Council will investigate.  The way I see it, I just helped you by exposing Hekhmut, so therefore in a sense, you owe me.  So why don’t we make a little deal?  We just go our separate ways.  You say nothing about me, and I won’t say anything about—“ The Senior Watcher never had a chance to finish his sentence when Jericho appeared behind him, silent as a ghost, and, with the fluid and deadly grace of a striking cobra, wrapped a garrote cord around his neck and strangled him.

 

“No deal for you, Edward,” Layla said calmly with a cold expression on her sensuous face.

 

For a moment, it seemed everything in the library became eerily still, as everyone stared at Edward’s bulging eyes, his hands frantically grasping for the wire wrapped around his neck.  The Senior Watcher made futile gasps for breath as the wire choked off his airway, causing his face and veins to turn blue as his tongue lolled from side-to-side.  His eyes bulged further as he stared at the Slayerettes with a pleading, desperate look.  Jericho’s own face however, in contrast to Edward’s, wore an expression of ice-cold calm.  With a final tightening of the cord, Edward’s windpipe was crushed and the Senior Watcher shuddered once then died. 

 

No one said anything as they stared at Edward’s corpse, shock registering on several faces.  Buffy in particular stared wide-eyed in horror at what she’d just witnessed.  She had just seen a man die right before her very eyes.  For a moment it didn’t matter that he’d been a pompous liar and a conspirator with demons, it was the fact that a human had been executed right in front of her.  And then she remembered the expression she’d seen on the executor’s face…or the lack of one, for that matter.  It almost reminded her of the same expression her boyfriend St. Wolf had worn when he’d killed a maniac who had run her through with a machete.  The Slayer shuddered momentarily at that memory.

 

Jericho calmly regarded the corpse he still held with the cord, before turning to regard the rest of the people in the room.  He noticed the shocked expressions on all their faces, except for Layla’s and Giles’, who both wore grim faces of their own.  The security consultant allowed Edward’s body to collapse at his feet with a dull thud as though he were a slab of meat before he withdrew the length of cord, which appeared to have a metal ring on one end and a hooked blade on the other, and tucked it away in a pocket.

 

“Well,” Jericho said, “I must admit I’ve wanted to do that all goddamn day!”

 

#

 

Las Pureza Del Fuego

18:15 PST

 

Within the eerily quiet confines of the abandoned church of the Spanish missionary, the rumble of the ongoing thunderstorm could be heard outside as rainwater leaked through the dilapidated roof, making a patter that echoed throughout the dimly lit area.  The frescoes that once decorated the domed ceiling had grown faded with mold and age, while the alcoves and altar that had once held sacraments and statues of saints had been torn down and desecrated by vandals.  As the last dim, gray light of day filtering through the church’s high windows gave way to night, a dark form shifted from one of the old wooden pews rose from the woolen blanket it had slept on.

 

Tex Boyd took a moment to blearily open his eyes, before he looked around the old church.  It was lucky for him and his gang that it was rather well sized, since all the other vampires had decided to sleep in the desecrated spot rather than try sleeping in the other areas of the abandoned mission.  Several vampires had tried, only to wake up minutes later, looking as though the devil himself had walked into their dreams.  Tex almost shivered at that, despite himself.  He didn’t know why that Hack Mutt feller had wanted his boys to shack up here, as this place, with its creepy tales and legends, even gave a vampire like him the shivers, especially after they’d found that old catacomb beneath the mission just like Hack Mutt had instructed them to do.  All those bones…

 

Tex shook his head and donned his black Stetson hat, before he took out a long black cigar from his jacket and lit it with a match, the fire briefly illuminating his dark eyes and almost giving him a devil-like visage.  The head vampire took a long puff then blew out the smoke in small rings before he turned to his henchmen, who were still asleep.  “Alright boys….up and at ‘em!  Get up!  Don’t make me have to drag your sorry hides out in the rain!”

 

The vampires all collectively snorted, muttered and cursed before they all slowly rose up from their slumber, save one.  Tex strode over to the one vampire that was still asleep and, upon seeing who it was, rolled his eyes in resignation.

 

“Hmm….heh, here sugar lips, come here sweet thing,” Lyle Gorch murmured quietly in his sleep, his cowboy hat hung low over his eyes with a dreamy smile on his face.  “Yeah…yeah, here piglet, come here…”

 

“Lyle…WAKE YOUR ASS UP!!!”

 

At the sound of Tex’s booming voice, Lyle’s eyes snapped open as his arms and legs flailed around, before falling out of the makeshift cot he’d set up on the old wooden pew.  The vampire blinked several times and looked around before noticing the tall, unmistakable form of Tex, who gazed at him with an expression of disgust.  Lyle quickly dusted himself off and got up on his feet, then donned his hat.  “Oh, evenin’ Tex,” he said, “Is it night already?”

 

“Of course it is, you idiot,” Tex said with an annoyed expression, as he momentarily withdrew his cigar and held it between his middle and index finger.  “Good to know that someone got a good day’s sleep,” he said sarcastically.

 

“Oh, indeed,” said a new voice, smooth and suave like black velvet.  All the vampires instinctively went for the firearms they’d kept beside them and turned toward the sound of the voice.  From within one of the darkened, desecrated alcoves emerged a well-dressed, mustachioed man whose eyes glowed with an unholy golden light, the irises slit like a cobra’s.  In his arms he held the limp, unconscious body of a beautiful raven-haired woman dressed in a sultry gypsy-like ensemble.

 

Tex narrowed his eyes at the intruder and the unconscious woman he held, as safeties were audibly flicked off on a plethora of automatic weapons.  “City-slicker, you’ve just stepped into the wrong hideout.  Better speak your piece about what you’re doing here awful quick, before my boys use you for tonight’s target practice.”

 

The man with the demonic-looking eyes allowed an amused smile to creep onto his face.  “Ah, such decorum.  I would expect no less from one such as you, Mr. Boyd.” While the vampires momentarily looked at each other in puzzlement, the intruder knelt to gently lay the unconscious woman down on the floor then stood again.  “And I see you’ve been taking good care of the weapons my associate Vladimir has supplied to you,” he continued with a nod at the vampire’s brandished arsenal that was pointed at him.  “Or at least, I hope you have been taking good care of them, because rest assured you will need them tonight.”

 

Tex’s eyebrows lifted momentarily in surprise before he narrowed them again at the new arrival.  “Ah, so…you’re that Hack Mutt feller, eh?  Yeah, the guns were a nice gift.  Of course, I’ve been around long enough to know your little Russian friend didn’t provide these shootin’ irons for free.  So I reckon you’re here to discuss business.”  The vampire took a moment to absently tap the ashes from his cigar.  “’Course, I’m curious as to how you got in here in the first place, past the booby-traps we set up and all.”

 

Hekhmut glared with annoyance at the head vampire.  “First, my name is Hekhmut, not ‘Hack Mutt’.  Why mortals, particularly you Americans, find my name so difficult to pronounce is beyond me.  And in answer to your question as to how I came here, it is rather simple…I teleported.  Now, let us, as you would say, discuss business.”  The demon clasped his hands behind his back.  “Business for tonight shall be rather simple, gentlemen.  And I do use that term in the loosest possible form,” he added with a hint of amusement at the assembled rough-looking vampires dressed in cowboy attire, still brandishing their guns.  “I shall be performing a very delicate ritual tonight, in the catacombs beneath this mission.  It is important, first and foremost, that I not be disturbed during this ritual.  And by that I mean, no intruders.  Hence I shall need you to provide security for this place.  Two,” the demon paused for emphasis, “I will need a sacrifice. Oh, rest assured, not from you of course, but from the mortal population.  I shall require one young boy and one young girl, preferably full grown and healthy, and definitely clear of mind, thus no drug addicts or bums.  They are to be delivered to me within the catacombs, in the chamber where I instructed you to leave the items I sent to you.  Oh, and I must stress the two mortals are to be unharmed.”  He emphasized that last word with his reptilian eyes narrowed.  “And three…it appears that the Slayer and her friends, which of course I mentioned to you, have probably learned of my plans in some shape or form, and are undoubtedly upset.  Thus I shall need you to provide a distraction for them as well.”

 

The head vampire of the Hell Riders harrumphed.  “Thought you had a challenge for me, amigo.  So, basically, you want us to watch the place, bring you a boy and a girl, and create a little chaos while you’re doing your…well, whatever it is you’re gonna do.  Mind if I ask what that might be?”

 

“That needn’t concern you, Mr. Boyd,” Hekhmut said smoothly, although his demonic eyes gave a hint of menace.  “Just do what I ask, and I assure you the rewards will be most…fulfilling.  And by chaos, I mean whatever it is you vampires normally do.”

 

“Oh, chaos,” Tex said, grinning evilly.  “My favorite subject.  Yeah, we can do that.”  As he mused darkly, Lyle along with a few vampires idled over to the unconscious woman who lay still on the floor, her shapely bosom gently rising and falling with each breath.

 

“Damn, that woman sure is fine lookin’,” Lyle muttered, his eyes gazing appreciatively at her beautiful body, before his eyebrows shot up.  “Hey, that’s that missy that was with the Slayer last night.”  He bent over to touch her…

 

Hekhmut turned and glared at Lyle, before making a motion with his hands creating an invisible force that yanked the vampire away from the woman and held him suspended in midair.  The demon cocked an eyebrow as he regarded the vampire who now stared wide-eyed back at him.

 

“Mr. Lyle Gorch, and to everyone else here assembled…I have one other request, nay, a command. And that is, do not touch this woman.  She is mine, and mine alone.  Should any of you even think of touching her, rest assured I shall forego all manners of business and proceed to rip every last organ, bone and entrails from your undead bodies, before I rip out your heart.  Are we clear?  Excellent.” With that, Hekmut made another wave with his hand and the vampire collapsed onto the ground with a muffled “oomph”.  The vampire scrambled back to his feet before donning his hat again. 

 

Tex stared wide-eyed momentarily at what he’d just seen, before regaining his usual demeanor.  “Uh, right, no problem, Hekhmut.” With that, he dropped his cigar on the ground and smothered it with the heel of his boot.  “Okay, boys, you heard the man.  Let’s saddle up and move out!”  The vampires gathered together the rest of their weapons and ammunition before strolling out of the church with Tex Boyd and Lyle Gorch last, the head vampire giving Lyle an annoyed look.  After they all left, Hekhmut strode over and gently picked up the unconscious form of Jenny Calendar in his arms.

 

“Come, my dear Jennifer.  There is much to do, and I must make certain you are properly…prepared.”  With a chuckle, he strode away with the unconscious woman.

 

#

 

Sunnydale High School Library

18:35 PST

 

Everyone in the library stared momentarily at the corpse of Edward Trent, lying at the feet of Jericho.  The library was eerily quiet save for the continuous rumble of thunder and the sound of the pouring rain.  No one said anything for a minute after what they had just seen, until Giles angrily broke the silence.  “Why in the bloody hell did you kill him?”

 

Jericho stared back at Giles with a slightly puzzled yet casual expression. “Why not?  He was a murderer and overall pain-in-the-ass to boot.”

 

The Watcher gritted his teeth.  “Yes, and you’re correct, it doesn’t bother me one bit that the murdering bastard is now dead, except for the fact that the entire Watcher’s Council will be all over every single one of us!  And don’t even think that I’m going to let anyone assign the blame for this to Buffy, her friends or anyone else other than YOU!”

 

“Rupert,” Layla’s soft, accented voice turned the Watcher’s attention to her.  “There will be none of that.  In fact, I would like to assure you and everyone else in this library that steps have already been taken to properly ‘handle’ this.”

 

Giles’ expression changed to one of complete bafflement.  “Handled?  What the devil do you mean?  What’s going on here?”

 

The security consultant made an audible sigh.  “You might as well tell them, Layla.  The proverbial cat is pretty much out of the bag, seeing as everyone here already knows you’re psychic.”

 

Everyone save Jericho and Giles glared at the Frenchwoman, appearing like a pack of wolves sizing up a potential threat, while Giles narrowed his eyes at the psychic with a look of both suspicion and hesitation, as if expecting to hear something he wouldn’t like.  The psychic sighed.  “Very well.”  Layla looked at her ex-lover squarely in his eyes.  “Rupert, when you…asked me earlier, about why I was really here, the truth is, well….” She swallowed before continuing.  “I am working for the Watcher’s Council, but only on a consulting basis.  I, we, that is, Jericho and I, we also have…other employers.”

 

Buffy glared at Layla suspiciously, her sense of paranoia starting to shift into overdrive.  “Other employers?  Who do you work for, lady?!”

 

Layla pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment.  “Allow me to start with myself.”  The woman reached underneath the neckline of her blouse, causing the Slayerettes to automatically tense.  Everyone held their breath before Layla carefully withdrew a golden pendant attached to a fine golden chain around her neck and allowed it to be prominently displayed against her blouse.  The pendant almost seemed to resemble a medallion, circular in shape and several inches wide.  The polished metal reflected the dim light of the library with a seemingly living radiance of its own.  An exquisite carving within the medallion formed the shape of a left eye, with a small green gemstone set within the iris that glittered like a star, while several small hieroglyphs were elegantly arranged around the eye.

 

Buffy looked at the pendant for a moment before fixing her eyes again on the woman that held it.  “Okay, that’s a nice piece of jewelry you’ve got there.  I assume it means something?”

 

Before Layla could reply, Willow said, “It’s an Utchat, Buffy, the eye of Thoth.  It’s one of the two sacred eyes of Horus in Egyptian mythology.”  The little red witch then noticed all the stares directed her way. “Um, I read about it in one of Giles’ books,” she added, blushing slightly.

 

Layla blinked at the redheaded Wicca, a look of pleasant surprise on her face.  “Yes, you are correct.  That is exactly what this is, although you may have forgotten to mention that this eye is sacred to the Goddess Bast.  And by that I mean…I am one of the Lady’s humble servants.”  The Frenchwoman took a moment to regard Giles, a look of puzzlement on his face, and after a moment’s hesitation, made a graceful yet humble bow directed toward both the Slayer and the Amazons.  “At the risk of sounding too formal…allow me to reintroduce myself.  I am Adept Priestess Layla Constantin, understudy to the Immortal High Priestess Ankh-Meres-Bast, daughter of the Sacred Temple and Sisterhood of Bast.”  Her tone became more respectful as she continued to bow.  “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Amazons, Chosen daughters of Artemis, as well as you, Elizabeth Anne Summers, the prophesied Immortal Slayer.”

 

All the Scoobies stared at Layla for several moments, trying to digest what they’d just heard, before Cordelia decided to break the silence. “Okay, let me get this straight.  You’re an under-something to And-huh-what?”

 

“If I understand correctly what Layla just said,” Giles interjected as he took off his glasses in a manner that meant that he was clearly perplexed, “She claims to be a priestess of the Egyptian Goddess of the Moon and Rising Sun, Fertility and Felines, among other things.”  His eyes then narrowed with suspicion at the Frenchwoman.  “However, I’m not certain I’m inclined to believe what you’re telling us.”

 

“Join the club,” Buffy added sarcastically.

 

Layla looked at her ex-lover again, hints of pain and frustration manifesting in her eyes before she hesitantly continued.  “I speak the truth now, Rupert, please believe me.  I…represent a mystical sisterhood, one devoted to the lady Bast. We have awaited the return of the Amazons for some time now.”  She then turned back to the assembled Amazons.  “When the Sisterhood sensed the rebirth of the Amazons, we were filled with joy to know that our sisters-in-arms walked the Earth once more.”  Her expression then became grim.  “Unfortunately, we are not the only ones to have sensed your return.  One of our most ancient foes has also sensed your presence, a consortium that calls itself the Disciples of Set.  As the name implies, they are a cult dedicated to the worship of the malevolent Egyptian God.  Your presence had apparently gained their attention when the High Priestess of our temple received a vision from the Lady, warning that the Disciples were sending an emissary to attempt to prevent the future spread of the Amazon Nation.  Unfortunately, the warning was rather vague as to what specifically entailed the threat, although it was sensed to be very close by.  When we learned that the Watcher’s Council was sending an envoy here to study the Slayer, they felt I would be the most ideal agent for this mission, since I was already a consultant for the Watchers.”

 

Giles stared off into space for a long moment, a range of emotions playing across his face, before he regarded Layla again, this time his face showing one definite emotion…betrayal.  “This-this is just unbelievable.  After my willingness to give you the benefit of a doubt, after my willingness to trust you…you still continue to hide things from me?”  His look of betrayal gave way to anger.  “Why the bloody hell did you go through such an elaborate deception…WHY?!”

 

Giles’ roar stunned the Frenchwoman momentarily, before tears began to form in her eyes.  Blinking her eyes shut momentarily to hold them at bay, the priestess took a deep breath, then opened her eyes and continued.  “Because we…I didn’t know who constituted the threat, Rupert.  The demon, or Hekhmut for that matter, apparently was using some powerful cloaking magicks to disguise himself, even from me. For all we knew it could have been anyone, perhaps even one of your young charges here, maybe Jenny, or, Goddess forbid, even you.” 

 

Buffy snarled and if Giles hadn’t stepped in her way would have been on Layla like a panther.  “No way, lady!  Giles could never betray me!”

 

Layla’s voice choked with emotion.  “Please understand, I prayed to the Lady it wouldn’t be so, that once we revealed the threat, I could find a way to forego this awful deception and tell you and your friends the truth, but—I am so sorry.”  Her tears finally trickled down her face, before she quickly wiped them away.

 

The Watcher looked downcast, shaking his head, trying to understand what he’d heard, or wondering if he should believe at all.  Part of him felt like he wanted to forgive her, to truly believe everything she’d said, while the other half, his authoritarian Watcher persona, told him to keep a level head and remind him that there still were unanswered questions…

 

“You still haven’t told us everything,” Giles said in a more interrogative tone. “Your so-called Sisterhood couldn’t have just arranged you to join the Watcher team without some inside help.  What I want to know is who.”  His tone of voice brooked no room for arguments.

 

“You’re right, Mr. Giles,” Jericho spoke up, surprising everyone. After sharing a brief look with Layla, he continued.  “We did have help.  In fact, to tell the truth, the ‘inside man’ you’re referring to just happens to be my real employer.  My position as security escort to Lay…excuse me, Doctor Constantin, is just a cover.”  The man looked at the Watcher squarely in the eye.  “I work for your father, Edwin Giles.  He said that—“ He never had a chance to finish as Giles strode over to Jericho and clamped his hand around his neck, all in one breath.

 

“My father set you all up for this?”  Giles hissed, baring his teeth as his blood began to boil at the mere mention of his father’s name.  “Why here; why now?  Does the overbearing bastard enjoy making my life a living hell?  Did he hire you to give me grief, knowing I’d bloody well kill him if he even so much as tried to lay a hand either on Jenny or Buffy?”

 

“No,” Jericho grunted, trying to be somewhat civil as he tried to pry Giles’ fingers from his throat.  “It’s nothing like that.  Edwin ordered me to accompany Layla…to Sunnydale.”

 

“How convenient,” Giles said darkly, “then perhaps I should send you back to my father in pieces.”

 

At that moment, Cordelia and Xander both stared, wide-eyed, at the tense scene.  “They used to call him ‘Ripper,’ huh?” Cordelia asked

 

Xander nodded woodenly.  “That’s what that Ethan Rayne guy always called him.”

 

She nearly choked on the lump in her throat.  “Somehow… that works for me.”

 

While everyone else was motionless, Buffy moved to her Watcher’s side.  “Giles,” Buffy said lowly, “please stop.  You’re scaring our friends.”

 

The Watcher shot an askew glance at his Slayer, searching for any signs of her fear of him.  He found none.  He only witnessed her compassion and devotion for him in her beautiful blue-green eyes.  Stunned by the unvarnished emotions plainly evident on her lovely face, Giles loosened his grip on the other man’s throat.

 

#

 

*Amy!*

 

The blonde witch tore her eyes away from the scene involving the Watcher and his Slayer to the red headed witch whose voice she’d suddenly heard in her mind.

 

*Willow?*

 

*Did you see that—that thing between Buffy and Giles?*

 

Amy nodded.  *Yeah.  She can stop him dead in his tracks with a few words, too.  I guess it works both ways.*

 

*Man…they’re really giving me the wiggins.  They’re acting like lovers who’ve been together for years.*

 

Then Willow felt the psychic shrug of her fair-haired sister tickle her mind.  *Maybe so…but I can’t help but think…it’s sort of romantic...and kind of hot!*

 

Amy felt Willow’s slightly annoyed expression through their link just then.  *That’s it, missy.  No more Harlequin romances for you!*

 

#

 

Jericho gasped.  “Dammit, man…listen to me! Your father’s…a ‘friend’ of Layla’s sisterhood.  When he heard of the danger, he wanted me to come along…to watch you…to make sure you didn’t get caught…in the crossfire.”  He coughed momentarily.  “Edwin did say…you’d get rather steamed.  He wanted to let you know…for what it’s worth…he did this because he loves you.”

 

The anger almost completely evaporated in the Watcher’s eyes at Jericho’s revelation, before his hand unclamped from the consultant’s throat, allowing Jericho to breathe in much-needed air for a moment before he was able to right himself and glare at the Watcher.  “Satisfied?” he growled.

 

Giles stared at the man and woman before him for a long moment, before Buffy sighed in frustration and broke the silence.  “Giles,” she spoke in a gentle yet firm voice, causing her Watcher to turn his full attention to her.  “We don’t have time to waste. If Jenny’s been kidnapped by this…this ‘Hack Mutt’ guy, and the Hell Riders are involved, we need to act fast.  We have to come up with a plan, now.”

 

“Yes, yes, of course,” Giles agreed, nodding reluctantly before turning his attention back to Layla and Jericho.  “We’ll discuss this further at a later time. Now, if you’ll kindly get out of the bloody way, we have things to do.”

 

“Rupert,” Layla said gently, “Allow us to help, please.  It’s why we came.  If it is indeed Hekmut, and he has vampires along with...well, who knows what else, you may need all the help you can muster.”

 

The Watcher growled.  “Like bloody hell!  We—“

 

“Giles,” The Slayer interrupted again, “Layla’s right.  Better let them come with us.”

 

Buffy’s Watcher turned and looked at his charge with complete surprise.  “Excuse me?  Buffy, this is not the time for—”

 

“We need their help,” Buffy cut in.  As much as she didn’t want to admit it, this was beginning to remind her of when she and Giles had confronted Jenny about Angel’s curse.  No, she thought, it wasn’t the same as that…or was it?  Jenny had said she’d only been doing her duty, she knew nothing about the curse.  Wasn’t it the same with Layla, and wasn’t she there to actually protect the Amazons?  Or at least, that’s what she claimed.  Buffy chased away her brief foray into internal ‘Buffy-babble’ and refocused on the situation at hand.  She stared directly into the Watcher’s eyes.  “Actually, maybe we don’t need their help, but…if this whole deal is as bad as it sounds, we’ll need whatever edge we can get.  Trust me…please?”  After several moments, Giles nodded reluctantly.

 

“Thank you, Buffy,” The Frenchwoman said softly.  “I…we—“

 

“Don’t thank me just yet, Layla,” Buffy retorted sharply.  “You just hold up your end of the bargain, and no funny business, understand?”  With that, she shifted smoothly into her Slayer-mode.  “Now, we need to know exactly where they took Jenny.  Anyone got any bright ideas?  Layla, Will, Amy…can any of you, like, scan or scry for her, or something like that?”

 

The priestess shook her head.  “Well, I can certainly sense that she’s not in the immediate vicinity, but further than that…I cannot tell.  I’m strong but not that powerful, Buffy. The energies of this place, this Hellmouth, it—it effects my extrasensory abilities to a certain extent.  I had to suppress them and my other mystical abilities somewhat when I first arrived, lest I draw unnecessary attention to myself, although that is rather pointless now.”  She then sighed in frustration.  “Unfortunately, if Hekhmut is as effective as he is at cloaking himself magically, he may be effective at cloaking Jenny as well.  I could call upon the Lady to assist me in scrying his location, but that could take some time.  Unless we had a more powerful spell…”

 

“Wait!” Amy shouted.  “How about a locator spell?”

 

Layla’s well-manicured eyebrows shot up at that.  “A locator spell?  I...I think that may work, but to make it effective, at least in this case strong enough to pierce whatever magicks Hekhmut may be using, you would need something that was part of Jenny…er, as in blood, or fingernails, or hair…”

 

“Hair,” Willow whispered, stroking her chin softly before her witch-green eyes flashed.  “Wait a minute,” she said as she walked over and picked up Jenny’s purse. The little red witch began to dig through it, carefully noting the Glock 30 pistol that was stored in the hidden holster, before she triumphantly fished out a hairbrush.  “Here! What about this?” The Wicca removed a clump of black hair from the brush and showed it to Layla, Giles and Amy.

 

The blonde witch grimaced slightly despite the excitement she felt.  “Jenny needs to clean her brush a little more often, but…yeah, I think this might work!  We just need to get together a few ingredients and tools, and a map of Sunnydale and the surrounding area, and we should be good to go.”  Amy then paused for a moment. “Wait, we also need something else.  It’s a sisters-calling-to-sister type spell in this case, so we’re gonna need blood.  Mine, Willow’s and Cordy’s.”  She then noticed the blanched looks that momentarily appeared on Willow and Cordy’s faces.  “It, um, shouldn’t require too much, I think,” she added in an attempt to sound reassuring.

 

Cordelia shook off her momentary sense of dread and set her face in a firm expression that was now all business.  “Whatever,” she growled.  “As long as it works.  Jenny’s our sister, so we’ll do whatever it takes to get her back, right?”  Amy nodded in reply, her own face set in a grim expression.

 

Willow nodded grimly as well, her “resolve face” now clearly in force.  “Yeah, what Cordy said.”

 

The Watcher’s worry and concern for his beloved was tempered by the determination he witnessed from the three beautiful young Amazons.  “Willow, Amy, this version of the locator spell you appear to describe, it seems quite powerful.  Do you think you can succeed?”

 

Amy furrowed her brow momentarily.  “Well, actually, we’ve only practiced it once or twice with Jenny…but I don’t think we have time to pull off anything else, we have to try.”

 

Buffy nodded forcefully, ending the discussion.  “We’ve got no other choice.  Okay, Amy, Willow, get the necessary ingredients you need together.  Cordelia, go with them.  Xander and Oz, head over to Steve’ place, let him know what’s going on, then start cracking out all the hardware and get it ready.  And by that, I mean everything…guns, armor, grenades, everything. Got it?”  The two boys nodded.  “Good.”  She then turned to Giles.  “Do you have anything in particular that might help against this demon guy?”

 

“Y-yes, I believe I do,” the Watcher said.  “If it’s Hekhmut, we will definitely need whatever we can muster against him.  I do believe I have a few spells in my books along with some implements that might help, but…it’s just…” Giles stared off into space momentarily, a flash of guilt crossing his face.

 

“Giles?” Buffy asked gently.  Although she hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, her hair had stood on end ever since they’d learned about this demon.  A sense of dread permeated her soul as she wondered if this demon could be a little too familiar to the man who’d once summoned demons as the Ripper.

 

The Watcher shook his head. “Never mind.  I didn’t mean to…ahm, what would you say, space out like that?  It’s just…Jenny.”  The Watcher finally began to choke, as he began to realize just how serious and deadly matters had become, probably much worse than when Jenny had been possessed by Eyghon.  The mere thought of that, coupled with what they faced, or to be specific, with what he knew they faced, filled him with both guilt and horror.  “Oh god…I’m sorry, it’s just…if anything happens to her…”

 

The Slayer gently laid a hand on his arm in a show of support.  “We’ll get her back, Giles,” the Slayer continued in a tone meant to comfort her Watcher.  “No ifs, ands, or buts.”  The other Slayerettes and eve