Segue - Chapter 8 - Francis_Eugene (2024)

Chapter Text

A Motley Crew

"Giles!"

Giles was surprised to hear his name being called after deboarding thepuddle-jumper flight from LAX. It was Buffy, with Xander and Cordeliabeside her, waiting inside the small Sunnydale Municipal Air Terminal.It was such an unexpected surprise he remained rooted as Buffy rushedforward to give him a big but gentle hug. As equally surprising to himhe could not stop himself from hugging back, a small smile playingacross his care-worn features.

"Welcome home, Ramblin' Man!" cheered Xander from behind Buffy, reachingaround her to shake Giles' hand.

"Hello, Giles," Cordelia said more formally, though in her own way shelooked just as please to see him. "It's good to have you back."

Giles had a small epiphany as he looked from face to face among thesethree brave people. This strange, dangerous piece of California, withthese young kids and their abuse of the English language, indeed feltmore like home than the England he was raised in and just returned from.Despite the burden of his news he felt much better being back on 'hometurf'.

They peppered him with questions while collecting his luggage. Asidefrom answering light pleasantries he did his best to evade more seriousbusiness he wanted to save for later. He had spent the entireflight trying to determine how best to present the news and still hadyet to formulate anything satisfactory.

Cordelia brought the matter to a head with a direct question. "What didyou learn from the Council, Giles? Did you get anything at all fromthem?"

That was the real question Buffy wanted answered, nodding emphaticallyand looking expectantly at Giles.

No more evasions, glumly thought Giles. "Yes, I did," heanswered. But he could defer. "And I will explain fully. Later, whenwe're all together." They could see he was quite firm so they stopped.Giles let himself be surrounded by the return of general babble, mostlyfrom Xander, but Buffy and Cordelia as well. Grateful to drop plans tohail a taxi, Giles followed them out to Xander's waiting car. "Where areWillow and Tara?"

"Mid-terms," Buffy answered as they piled in.

"And Dawn?"

"In school. And no, she still knows nothing."

Giles nodded, letting his head fall back on the seat as Xandermaneuvered his way out of the airport. Now that others were taking careof his luggage and transportation for the final leg of this journey hewas overcome by a leaden tiredness, wanting nothing more than a fewhours sleep before delivering the news.

After dropping off Giles and then Buffy, Xander and Cordelia were quietfor several minutes as he drove back to their apartment.

"Whatcha think?" finally asked Xander, fingers tapping on the wheel,looking sideways at Cordelia while they waited at a red light.

She shook her head, taking a long moment before answering. Xander waitedpatiently, entering the intersection when the light turned. "Hard totell," she finally answered. "I know it was a long trip, but if he hadsomething good to say I think he would have said it." She turned to lookat Xander's profile. "You?"

Xander nodded. "The same. Our inscrutable Mr. Giles is playing it closeto the vest. Very, very close."

–––

After Giles had managed a few hours of much needed sleep he arrived atBuffy's house that evening and followed her into the living room. Theevening was quite chilly and Buffy had the gas fireplace going, as muchfor psychological warmth and cheeriness as for real heating purposes.The gang, arriving shortly before himself, were still arrangingthemselves on various chairs, the ottoman, sofa, or just splayed out onthe rug. He frowned with worry and concern despite an effort to put on acalm and optimistic facade for them. He really wanted to have a stiffscotch first, but that wouldn't have conveyed the right outlook.

As people shuffled about, Buffy quickly tried to neaten a few morethings. Willow impatiently grabbed her to make her stop. "Don't worryabout it, Buffy. We're family too."

"Yeah," added Tara.

Buffy readily gave up and just stood, fidgeting.

"There's family," Cordelia said, squirming and reaching behind her toextricate the soft lump prodding into her back, finally holding out alarge ugly sweatshirt, rather worse for wear, "and then there'sfamily. I don't want to know which one of you this belongs to or whereit's been."

Buffy yanked it away. "It's Riley's," she mumbled as she stepped back,blinking rapidly while she wrangled it in her hands.

Giles sat down in the large stuffed leather chair kept open for him atthe head of the group and crossed his legs, resting his elbows on thechair arms and steepling his fingers together. He pursed his lips inthought before speaking.

"It's Masterpiece Theatre time!" Xander did hand-trumpet noises in avague rendition of the show's opening theme. "We welcome His Royal Tweedback to these far flung colonies to inform us ignorant yokels of thelatest news of civil-eye-zation from ye' old country."

"Knock it off, Xander," snapped Buffy after she had tossed thesweatshirt into a corner. She stood, with hands planted on hips, facing Giles.Though behaving very belligerent, her slouched posture and expression,worry lines between her eyes and down-turned mouth, revealed herconcern. Despite minor unrelated victories they had made virtually zeroprogress against Glory. "You've got something on Glory? Please?"

Giles took a deep breath. "Uh, yes, I've got some rather, uh...well, Ido have news. It's a bit of good—"

"Woo woo!" Xander pumped his fist. Giles flashed a tight smile.

"—and a bit of bad."

"If Giles is learning good news-bad news jokes then that must be a signof the Apocalypse." Xander's grin collapsed when all the girls turned asone to glare at him. "And I'll be learning to keep my trap shut."

"Twenty years! Twenty friggin' years! And now he gets it," saidCordelia, mouthing a silent 'thank you' to the heavens.

Buffy ignored them. "OK, first the good."

"The Council does indeed have information on Glory. It may even behelpful. Or so they claim."

Buffy straightened out of her slouch, the beginnings of a hopeful smileerasing the worry lines. "On Glory? What is it?"

Giles fidgeted uncomfortably in the chair, scratching the back of hisear. "That part would be the bad news. They wouldn't tell me. We'll findout when they," Giles suddenly looked pained, "get here."

Buffy was stricken. "What?! Here?! They? They're coming here? ToSunnydale?" She jabbed her finger, pointing down.

"A delegation of impartial members of The Council. A Class-A reviewboard, hand selected from the best and brightest of the Council ranks,"Giles intoned in the same voice used on him by Quentin Travers.

"But why? Can't they just tell us from there?" Buffy heard only'Council' ringing in her ears, missing everything else. She could notrecall one good or helpful thing they had ever done.

"Yeah, don't they have phones?" Xander mimed hand-cranking a phone, thenheld one fist by his ear, the other holding an imaginary microphone. "Isay! Operator, operator!" he cracked in an awful British accent,"Calling the United States. A trunk call to Sunnydale-6 five-thousand.We have information for the resident slayer. Thank you, ma'am. 'Allo,Buffy? 'Ere's some stuff we know about Glory. There's a good slayer andeliminate her, please. Off you go, very good! Oh yes, tea at four. Do beprompt this time."

Cordelia smacked her hand against her forehead and flopped back into thecushions. "Oh, oh! I'm getting a vision. A most dreadful and horribledemon! It talks too much, it never shuts up. It's mouth is big, sizeextra large as big as your garage. It's a Yakkitty-yak Demon!" Shepeered sideways through slitted eyes. "Looks like Xander, sounds likeXander. Is Xander. Kill him now, Buffy!" She pointed at theXander-shaped creature. "You won't regret it."

"Reception from The Powers must be on the fritz. Your rabbit-ears needadjusting." Xander reached over to tweak Cordelia's ears. She easilyswatted his hands away.

Buffy ignored their antics. "But phones!" she amplified to Giles. "See,I could tolerate them on phones. Or they could just Pony Expresswhatever they've got."

Xander stopped trying to tickle Cordelia. "Buff, the horse would drownin the Pacif—"

"Atlantic," whispered Willow.

"—Atlantic Ocean," he corrected himself smoothly.

"Better yet," agreed Buffy. "No communication at all!"

Cordelia's head snapped around. "Hey, I like horses!"

Tara was confused by the fuss over the mere mention of the 'Council'."What's so bad about them? Aren't they the good guys? Watchers, right?Just like other, ah, Gileses? Just...um...watching?"

Giles looked mildly offended. "I do quite a bit more than 'just watch'."

"You know what I mean."

"They're scary and horrible!" Buffy explained to Tara before returningher attention to Giles.

Although estranged from the Council and in general disagreement withmany of their recent policies and attitudes, Giles still had greatrespect for and attachment to the ideals he believed they oncerepresented. He felt compelled to provide some minimal defense of theiroverall position. "They... while they can appear a bit, uh, hard-nosed,essentially their goal is the same as ours. They want to save the world,to contain and eliminate the spread of evil. Glory included."

"Slayers too," grumbled Cordelia. As much as she disliked Faith andthought Angel had let her off easy, she remembered Faith's checkeredhistory viz-a-viz The Council. She remembered Buffy's 18th birthday andthe trial they put her through. She recalled the Council's treatmentof Wes. Enemy of my enemy did not always equal friend.

"Giles, I don't trust them," Buffy spoke firmly. "I don't want themhere. Make them not be here."

"I'm sorry Buffy, they're already on their way. Perhaps a day behind me.Quentin is heading the delegation."

Buffy collapsed onto the sofa next to Xander, throwing up her arms indefeat. "Mr. Sunshine himself."

"I will do my utmost to shield you." Giles offered what little he could.He looked at each of their faces in turn. "All of you."

"Are you sure they're English?" asked Tara. "I-I thought English peoplewere, y'know, nice. Like Canadians, but with an accent."

"No! This bunch is vile, evil, beady-eyed, well dressed hell-spawn, evilawfulness." Buffy's feelings ran quite deep. "Did I mention evil?"

"But how do you really feel about them, Buff?"

Buffy crossed her arms and glared at Xander, seriously consideringCordelia's earlier suggestion, until he gulped and held up his hands insurrender.

"Maybe it won't be so bad this time," offered Willow, "maybe it'll bebetter?"

"It's not just what they made me do. They're going screw everything up.They can't find out about Dawn! Being here makes it easier they might.Whatever it is with her and Glory, they would take her away if theyknew."

"They won't," asserted Xander in all seriousness, looking meaningfullyaround at everyone. "Right? As far as we know it's The Dawnster, justthe very annoying, very ordinary kid sister."

They all nodded.

Xander looked thoughtfully at Cordelia, brow wrinkling in concern.

"What?" she demanded after a second or two, sitting up.

Perhaps his worry was prompted by her earlier teasing. Although lookingat Cordelia, he pitched his voice to address everyone. "It's probablynot a good idea if they know about Cordy's visions."

Cordelia settled back and nodded emphatically.

"What if she gets one while they're here?" asked Tara.

Willow raised her hand after several moments. "We could say it'sepilepsy? Or something?" Cordelia slowly nodded her head as Willowexpanded on her suggestion. "Except for the vision part, and telling usstuff, all the symptoms match pretty closely. They shouldn't have areason to doubt a perfectly normal human explanation."

"I guess it could work," Cordelia agreed. She didn't much like it, butcouldn't think of anything better. She sure hoped the Powers didn't havea strange sense of humor when timing the next vision. And damn-it, whenwas she going to get another one?! She was beginning to feel veryuseless.

"Right. Right," Buffy agreed, clapping her hands together, "That's good.But there's still Glory, a-and I don't need the Council looking over myshoulder when I don't even know what we're dealing with."

"Which is precisely why we need to talk to them," gently reminded Giles."We're at a bit of a dead-end. There are a few more resources we cantry, but I'm not sanguine about any of them. If the Council knowssomething about Glory, anything at all about her abilities—"

"Like kicking slayer-ass?" interrupted Buffy.

"—her goals or means, weaknesses..." Giles shrugged and sighed,the obvious conclusion hanging in the air. For better or worse theyneeded what the Council had.

Giles didn't want Quentin and his old-guard cronies here any more thanBuffy. But he was still Buffy's watcher and as such had a deeply feltresponsibility to prepare her for all enemies, to perform his duediligence to the utmost. Also, though often rightly derided, he knewthere indeed was a 'larger picture' which often had the annoyingtendency to surprise you at the worst possible moment because you weretoo focused on the single problem right in front of you. He could notignore valuable resources at his disposal merely because they wereunpleasant to deal with, including Travers and his Council. Anythingless would be a failure of his duty to Buffy.

"Maybe it will help us get a-a grip on what we're dealing with. Rightnow I think we're a bit lost." Dismayed, he grimaced again. Sometimesseeing the larger picture really sucked.

–––

Jinx warily entered the suite's main living room, ready to flee at anysign of anger from his irascible, unpredictable mistress. Seeing thatDreg was not obviously damaged or squished, he thought it safe to makehis announcement based on their sightings and calculations.

Glory, hearing scuffling steps, looked up. "Ah, Jinx, what good news doyou have for me?" Her inviting smile was thin and brittle.

Aware of what his brethren was about to say, Dreg shook his head tosilence Jinx, but Jinx didn't see.

Jinx bowed deeply. "We have found the signs of the alignment are movinginto place, hmm... but rather faster than expected," he said quietly,not looking Glory directly in the eye.

"Meaning?" ominously growled Glory.

Still in his bow, Jinx shuffled back a step, keeping his eyes on thefloor. "If you are to use the Key to return to The Origin, to restoreall magnificence, honor and power, you must act quickly." He tookanother half-step back.

She accepted the news with some actual humor. "Fine." Glory nodded in aself-satisfied manner. "I've been cooling my heels in this crap-holelong enough. Too many demons and not enough quality retail. And one toomany tiresome, save-my-little-corner-of-craphole-from-destructionslayer. You'd think they could find something useful to do. Like helpdecorate this pip-squeak planet." She shook her head in wonder at thesheer uselessness of slayers.

Jinx, encouraged, looked up and dared to remind her of one detail. "Allyou need is the Key!"

Glory looked out the window, seeing the entire town spread out beforeher. "Yes. And I bet Miss Stuffy-the-Slayer can tell me. Hero typesalways know stuff."

"Yes, your most Intelligently Gracious Beauty," ironically intoned Jinx.He tried to push his luck a bit. "If I may, Your Eminence? We do nothave much time."

Despite constant, never-ending evidence to the contrary, Glory scoffedat the absurdity of limits, physical or temporal, upon herself. Jinxcould not fathom how his Glorificus could both brush off the slayer'sabilities and then proclaim the need for her. How could such asupposedly wondrous being be so obtuse? Suddenly noticing Glory'scontemplative gaze upon himself he shook off such thoughts and scurriedout.

–––

The Magic Box had been open for hours, hitting the peak of the day whencustomers arrived during their lunch breaks. Some came for kicks orcuriosity, but most had real problems and this was were they hoped tofind answers.

Xander was helping out during his own break, moving items from storageor anything else Cordelia told him to do. He looked at his watch; therewere a few more minutes before he had to get back to the work-site. Ashe was winding down his final task, Travers and his delegation filedthrough the front door. The largest, Philip, took up station by the doorto block new customers from entering.

In the center of the sales floor, Giles was sitting and reading anancient scroll at the main reading table most often used for research.Hearing a commotion he looked up and frowned at his visitors. Hechecked his watch and sighed. "Punctual as ever, Quentin."

Travers ignored Giles' sarcasm as he approached, the others in his wake.He stopped in front of Giles, sniffed and surveyed his surroundingswhile unbuttoning his overcoat before acknowledging his host. He wasutterly calm and at ease, in total control of the situation.

Giles stared distastefully at the Council members arrayed behind Travers.He didn't recognize any of them from his days at the Academy or the fewtimes he had revisited. Not many years older than Buffy and her friends,they seemed so young and he felt old. "Would you care to introduce yourmost distinguished blue-ribbon committee of trained dogs? Or have you'vetrained them to answer to 'hey you'?"

"With the stick up his ass," Cordelia added quietly from near thecash register. Xander, beside her, preparing to leave, elbowed hergently.

Travers blinked but ignored the young, rude American. "Good day, Giles."Without preamble or further introductions, Travers launched into theagenda. "First, we'll catch up. You will explain the current situation,up close and in more detail." He uncrossed his hands and waved toindicate the Magic Box as a whole. "Starting with this place ofcommerce." On a signal from Travers the delegation members spreadthroughout the store.

Giles head swiveled as he tried to watch all of them at once to seewhere they went. He quickly gave up and glared balefully back atTravers. "Well, one must put bread on the table no matter what straitswe are in, I'm sure you'll agree. Nor have I forgotten my duties andresponsibilities to Buffy. This shop, an interesting foray into theworld of commercial retail, has worked out rather well on both counts,for bread and for Buffy's advancement. I'll give you a tour if youlike?"

"A tour? No. Perhaps you could quickly summarize?"

Giles thought a moment and then pointed toward the rear. "The back roomis the training area, actually rather better than we had at the school."Giles was very proud of the work they had all done to arrange Buffy'sfacilities.

"So you're not using that space for the really dangerous items thatshould be kept out of the public's hands? Or maybe you don't worry aboutthat?"

Giles straightened. "I'm very careful!" he curtly responded. He didn'tfeel any need to mention how Glory had waltzed in and blithely acquiredmaterial to raise up a nasty snake-thing.

Nigel, a supercilious watcher of Indian descent, was standing by someshelves, picking up items one by one and carefully inspecting them."Most of this is perfectly harmless—"

"There, you see?" Giles smiled.

"—incense, tourist trinkets and junk—"

Giles' expression snapped from smile to aggravated scowl. "I'm sorry,who are you?"

Nigel ignored him. "But there are a few items..." he trailed off,shaking his head ruefully.

The delegation's lone female, Beatrix, a young woman dressed in aseverely conservative, sharply creased gray suit, was across the shopexamining another cabinet of items. "There are some very potent elementshere: focusing crystals, runic artifacts, an amulet of Cauldis." Shehefted an item to show it to Travers. "This statue. Its removal fromBurma is a criminal offense. And when triggered has the power to melthuman eyeballs." She pulled her eye-glasses down her nose and lookedaccusingly at Giles.

"Then I severely under-priced it," regretfully commented Giles.

Travers glanced at Giles then nodded to Nigel. Nigel replaced what hewas holding and walked to the center of the floor. "Sorry Giles, butthis is just for the duration. You'll understand the necessity."

"Necessity?" Giles twisted about. "Necessity for what? Wha-what is forthe duration?"

Nigel spoke loudly in a firm, commanding voice. "Magic Box shoppers! Weare very sorry for the inconvenience. However, we must ask you todepart. The shop is closing now for inventory control and inspection."

Philip, the hulking watcher with close-cropped hair and a pug nose, heldopen the front door for the departing customers. He was as firm as hewas polite, ensuring none attempted to return. "Terribly sorry for theinconvenience," he repeated over and over, each time with less and lesssincerity.

"Maybe it's just me, but I don't think he's sorry at all," Cordeliagrumbled to Giles.

She had spoken softly but Travers heard her nonetheless. There wassomething about her that tickled his memory and this time she had hisfull attention. "Miss, do we know you?" The Council's files wereextensive, covering much more than just demons, vampires and relatedlore. "You look...familiar? Do you work here?" Where had he seen herpicture?

"I'm the general manager," she barked, giving herself an elevatedposition, certain Giles would back her if push came to shove.

"You don't have to talk to him, Cordelia."

"Oh, I know I don't. Just brushing up on my people skills." Cordeliasmirked, then looked down her nose at Travers. "I suppose that worksbetter if I were addressing actual people." She might have said more butXander gave a slight head shake, then inclined his head at Travers, whowas still inspecting her carefully. Normally that would not have stoppedher from saying her piece, but she was aware of the sensitivity of thesituation and the need not to call attention to herself. She heeded hissilent advice and sat back on a stool.

After a moment Travers gave up and shook off his suspicions. Later theycould determine if she was worth more investigation.

Giles spoke up angrily, also distracting Travers. "This was your planall along, wasn't it? Inventory has nothing to do with it, does it?" Heglared at Travers while the last straggling customers were escorted out,not even allowed to keep and pay for their selections.

"Merely for the duration of the examination, Giles."

"Examination? What? You said 'review'! We acquaint you with all weknow, you check things out on scene, you said, and then we share. Noexamination."

"Review. Inspection. Examination. Test. Checkup. Let's call it a smallsemantic mis-understanding, shall we?" Travers smugly askedrhetorically. "But there will be an examination. She passes or shefails."

Cordelia could see Giles was getting desperate and angry, losing controlof a situation he never had any control of from the start, onlyrealizing it now.

"N-now let's just stop a moment. Let's stop and talk about this."

"Giles, we have already discussed the necessary program at quite somelength," patiently explained Travers.

"It's an exhaustive inquisition into your procedures and abilities,"Nigel continued. "We'll observe your training—"

"You will do no such thing!" was Giles final, weak salvo.

Travers spread his arms out. "Come now, Giles. You understand how thisworks. After all, you used to be one of us."

"Coy does not suit you well, Quentin. You're as aware of the history andissues as I. I was—am!—a watcher for my slayer. The slayeron the Hellmouth. More and more I'm not so certain I was ever 'one ofyou'."

Travers smiled genially. "No?"

Giles, resigned to the situation and having nothing lose, took off hisglasses and smiled as he polished the left lens. "I believe the localidiom is 'not by a country mile'"

"Interesting. But you were on the inside once. You know the resources wecan command, the amount of information we've collected and archived."Travers paused to let that sink in. "And can provide, I might add, ifcirc*mstances warrant it."

Travers waited for Giles to respond.

"I sense your resistance, Giles, and I don't entirely blame you were Iin your position. But, since perhaps you were never one of us, I thinkyou need reminding of the goals and needs of the Council and yourrelative position of influence. The Council fights evil. We have done sofor thousands of years. A slayer, any slayer, even yours, is merely aninstrument by which we fight. Our chosen weapon. By the very nature ofbattle—I will unfortunately admit—weapons come and go. But," Traverssharply raised his hand to emphasize the point, "the Council remains!"He spoke the last sentence with evident great pride.

"You must practice that speech before a mirror every morning," Gilesmuttered. More loudly he said, "It's all a very comforting, bloodlessway of looking at it, isn't it? I expect you sleep very well at night."

"You also used to respect us," Travers chided his ex-employee.

"An error of youth?"

Cordelia had been getting angrier and angrier with each word Travers spoke."The high and mighty Council? We're—glumph!"

Xander had gently clamped his hand over Cordelia's mouth. He knewCordelia had been fuming silently, getting angrier along with Giles andwas about to explode. He too was finding it hard to contain himself. Hefelt bad for Giles and Buffy having to deal with these people, but if hedidn't get himself and Cordelia out now, they were likely tomake things worse.

"If the store is closed, Giles, you won't be needing Cordy, right? Andwe've got errands to run. Is that OK?" He wasn't really asking as hetook a surprisingly unresisting Cordelia by the hand and led her fromaround the counter toward the door.

Sadly, especially where Xander is concerned, good intentions often leadto wrong places. Just as they were ascending the stairs he stopped andturned toward Travers. "The slayer is just a tool, right?"

"Of course." Travers answered without bothering to turn. "We are theconstant. Ever present. Vigilant."

"Then it's a wonder you've lasted this long," Xander said scornfully toTraver's back. Now it was Cordelia's turn to pull on his arm and getthem out before doing more damage.

"It's been this way from the beginning, boy," Travers continued to sayover his shoulder.

Xander knew he should stop. Almost anything he said would make it harderon Buffy, harder to get the information they desperately needed.Cordelia continued to pull on him. But he couldn't let this go, theircallous perspective toward his friend.

"Yeah, I hear you. And you're still dumb-ass stupid." He angrily shookCordelia off and stepped back down. "I'm just a simple nail pounder andI use tools every day. Even if you think of Buffy as merely a tool, onething I know is you take care of them. Same for weapons. If you want tosurvive you need the best from your weapons and you treat them with carebecause they're what's keeping you alive. What I've seen, what I'mhearing now, it's like you're going out of your way to be as careless aspossible. Like you deliberately want to lose her."

This time Travers twisted around to address the boy. "Excuse me, youngman, but we're talking about serious matters here, not about the latesthammers. You could not be expected to understand." The issue the boy wasraising was a sensitive one for Travers. The soft sentiments the childwas referencing he'd heard before from the more modern Council members,those who cared for their slayers, those like Giles who thought slayersshould be treated as more than mere weapons. Already begun, the purgeof these radical Council elements would take awhile longer.

The enemy was implacable, relentless, merciless, no quarter given. TheCouncil needed to be stronger yet to defeat them. Their weapons neededtoughness, Travers believed, and only the toughest, strongest slayerswould be of any use. "This is no ordinary war against ordinary enemies.We need the very best. Therefore we must test to destruction. There arelosses along the way but we're better for it." Iron must be struckagainst iron. If this Buffy was the iron they needed, well and good. Ifnot, then best to find out now. Of this, Travers was certain.

Both Giles and Cordelia could see that Xander was getting more furiouswith each word. Giles nodded sharply to Cordelia to re-double herefforts to pull him out.

Again he shook her off, scowling at her. "No, Cordy, this needs saying!"He returned his attention to Travers. "Bullsh*t! I know you'll get a newslayer as soon as Buffy dies, but it's obvious an experienced slayer isa better slayer. Yet you're doing everything you can to have onlyinexperienced slayers.

"We do quite well, thank you."

"If by 'quite well' you mean never letting us know about Kendra, thenFaith? Letting her live in a motel not fit for a co*ckroach? Providing anincompetent watcher? And when that didn't work out, sending your evenmore incompetent A-Team? Huzzah to you!"

"Hey," protested Cordelia, "Wes is competent!" She felt the earnest needto defend her friend. "Maybe not bad-ass, but he's very good. Both atresearch and at fighting."

"And isn't it interesting how that happened after he got away fromthese guys?" Xander asked Cordelia. He turned back to Travers. "Onesimple question: who's the most effective slayer you've ever had?"

"Effective? Err..." Travers stumbled.

"Yeah. Pick a stat, any stat. Any way you want to figure it." Xandermotioned with his hand. "Say, kills per month. Apocalypses stopped.You're all about the cold-blooded efficiency, right? Numbers don't lie.Who's the best?"

"Well—" Travers did indeed know the cold, hard facts.

"Buffy's right up there, huh? Top 10?" Travers didn't respond. "Topthree?" Xander paused, lifting his eyebrow in curiosity. "Maybe,oh...the very tippy-with-a-cherry-on-top?"

Travers remained silent, mouth compressed in a firm line.

Disgusted, anger finally vented, Xander shook his head. "Yeah, about what Ithought." He turned and left, leaving Cordelia to follow.

"Interesting," sniffed Travers. The ignorant young pup couldn't possiblyknow all the things he and his Council had to deal with. However, sincethis boy had taken it upon himself to comment on Council matters, hemade a note to follow up on all of the slayer's known associates andgauge their negative effect.

He took a refreshing breath and focused again on Giles. "Let's return tocases, shall we? We have information about this Glory. Some of it maybe vital. Most is extremely disturbing. It will not be handed overunless we are convinced you and Buffy are prepared for it. We must knowthat you'll use and protect it properly, that you won't make thesituation worse. Thus the review," finished Travers, crossing his handson his lap, smiling grimly.

"There will not be a test!" re-asserted Giles.

"Call it anything you like. But surely you admit your methods arerather, shall we say un-orthodox?" Travers pointed at the door toindicate the recently departed couple. "You even include civilians atyour highest level of planning. We're merely verifying the informationwe provide will be safe. I think a full review with Buffy is necessary,plus checks on her training regimen." He frowned, looked significantlyonce again at the door. "We'll also need to go more in-depth with allBuffy's associations."

"I personally vouch for the others," Giles said, affronted by Traversimplication. "They are absolutely trust-worthy."

"Of course, of course! I'm sure you're quite correct. But we must becertain. This is information not to be trifled with."

–––

Jinx limped into the ante-room of their suite, blood oozing from severalfacial wounds.

Dreg hurried over to help. "What happened, Jinx? You were only todeliver a message."

With Dreg's assistance, Jinx made it to a seat, grunting as he floppedback. "Our Ben-Glory," he breathed, "is being. Most stubborn. Thesedays." Slowly his breathing settled down. "It seems the closer. We getto the day. The more difficult he becomes. When I told him Buffy was theslayer. He become most. Irate."

"You told him that?" Dreg fell back on his heels, astonished, then wentto get some bandages.

Jinx nodded. "Glory instructed me so. She believes the slayer knowssomething. We follow her enlightened command in all things."

"She is but ours to endure," lamented Dreg upon his return, ignoring thewarning look from Jinx. He began to clean and patch Jinx. "I know, Iknow," he said placatingly. Silent moments passed as he worked on Jinx'sinjuries. "Endurance becomes more difficult with every passing moment,does it not?" he quietly asked as he applied the finishing touches."There. You're as good as can be. Please be most careful when youdeliver Glory's messages."

Jinx looked down at one of the bandages and nodded thoughtfully.Glorificus was his sole reason for existence, so he was told. But he wasbeginning to have conflicting thoughts. And the direction of Dreg'scomments were veering toward the blasphemous and heretical. Worse, hefound himself not dis-agreeing.

Dreg stood to let Jinx rest. "Can I ask something of you, Jinx?"

"Of course." But the implication he might not answer was clear.

"What do you remember of The Origin. Of Home?"

"I—" Jinx stopped. He had no words.

Dreg's warty smile was sad. "Nor do I." He turned and patted Jinx on theshoulder. "Rest before you deliver Ben's answer to Glory."

–––

We've been developing a sort of, uh, a hybrid fighting style," Gilesexplained earnestly as they waited for Buffy. "Despite the lack ofCouncil resources these last few years." Giles saw no reaction fromTravers and hurried on. "In fact we've continued to work on severaldisciplines. Also histories, both vampire and other demons, prophecies,research skills. If I outline her progress for you I-I think you'll seethis isn't really needed."

Buffy entered the store at that moment. She had only expected a coupleof Council people, not this whole gaggle before her, surrounding Gilesand scattered about the store. She started to reverse tracks but theringing bell had attracted everyone's' eyes, most especially Travers. Sherealized she was trapped and wanted out. Now. "Bad day. Bad,baaad day." she muttered to herself.

"Ah, Miss Summers!" Travers jovially called, beckoning her in. "So goodto see you again, it has been too long."

"Never long enough." Buffy's whispered under her breath. She stoppedbacking up (she hadn't even realized she was doing so) but also didn'tapproach closer. "Mr. Travers," she answered louder.

"We've been going over things with Giles. It is all quite interesting.And now that you're here we can go over everything with you."

"Everything? What are you talking about?" Finally Buffy marched into theshop, coming to stand besides Giles and crossed her arms. Giles lookeddown at her with what he hoped was a reassuring expression ofconfidence.

"We would like to lay out our project for you and Mr. Giles." Traverslooked over at his colleague. "If you would, Nigel?"

"What? Project? Giles, what are they talking about? I thought we'd meet,have some tea and scones, talk about the weather, and then they give usthe information. What's going on?"

Giles sighed. "It seems they are asking more from us and will be here abit longer than anticipated."

Travers faced Buffy. "Glory is stronger than you. More powerful. Despitewhat you may think, we are truly fighting on the same side and we haveinformation that will help. But this information is confidential,dangerous in the wrong hands. Pass the review, demonstrate you are theright hands—"

"That's me, the Good Hands Slayer!"

"—and we provide it without reservation. However, failing, eitherthrough incompetence or by resisting our recommendations..."

Giles kept flip-flopping between righteous anger at his former superiorand a resigned desperation. This time anger came forth. "Resisting? Youreally mean we have to jump through every petty little hoop you demand.How much under your thumb do you think we are?"

"How much do you want our help?" Travers softly asked.

Instantly defeated again, Giles knew, better than Buffy, how badly theyneeded the information. Travers' calm soft tone underscored theirdesperation and his own lack of response was all the answer Traversneeded.

"Giles has been telling us of your training, that you've developed a'hybrid' fighting style, is it?" Travers glanced at Giles who gave ashort nod to Buffy. "Perhaps we can learn something to add to our owntraining regimen." His insincerity was as clear as a vamp's fangs aresharp.

Buffy glared back at the smug Travers.

"Please, can you describe it for us? What exactly is it a hybrid of?What styles did you blend together, for instance? What elements did youtake from each?"

"Buffy, They're puppeteers and they want a puppet whose strings they canpull. You don't have to submit to this. We can deal with Glory on ourown, we'll figure out a way."

"Really?" asked Travers.

Buffy wanted so much to believe Giles. Everything within her, everyexperience she had, told her not to cooperate with Travers. But Dawn'slife was at stake, not to mention the evil of Glory herself. Moreperceptive than perhaps Giles gave her credit for, Buffy knew she neededevery edge she could get against Glory. Her hesitation to agree withGiles allowed Travers to make his next threat.

"You think this is unfair? It is. There are also other factors whichshould motivate you to cooperate." Travers looked down and tracedpatterns on the table with his right forefinger. The softness of hisvoice belied the absolute steely confidence with which he spoke. "Now, Iwould prefer not to go this route, but if you force us, we'll have Mr.Giles deported within the day. He'll never set foot in Sunnydale again."He looked up at Buffy, expression hard and stern. "This is no idlethreat, Miss Summers. You're dealing with grownups now. Am I makingmyself clear?

"Crystal," bit out Buffy.

"Excellent." Travers mood brightened immediately with Giles and Buffy'ssurrender. "Perhaps a demonstration would be in order?" He looked downat his watch to emphasize the shortness of time.

"Now?" Buffy gaped.

Travers somehow managed to look even more disappointed with Buffy thanhe already was. "Surely you don't believe demons and vampires fight onlywhen it's convenient? You must be ready at any time, prepared at alltimes. Such as now." He glanced significantly at Giles and made a movetoward closing up his briefcase. "But if you and Giles are not—?"

"Let's go." Buffy stomped off toward the back room. Giles hurried tocatch up. Travers smiled and signaled to Philip. They followed at a muchmore leisurely, confident pace.

–––

"Agility, clarity, stamina and strength. These are the qualities theslayer must possess to do her job."

"Clarity?" Buffy asked, baffled at how pompous these people made eventhe simplest things. "Does kill-a-demon-ability come in there anywhere?Or does that fall after do-whatever-the-Council-wants-ity?" She wonderedhow they would describe the qualities needed to take a dump.

Giles grinned at her ironically, remembering he too was once nearly asbad as this not so very long ago.

"Very droll," Travers replied, "Can we get on to the demonstration?"

Buffy, in plain gray sweats with 'Army' written across the chest, a giftfrom Riley's Initiative team from when they got along better, nodded asshe stretched.

"Philip," Travers indicated the man to his left, "will attack the dummy.You will protect it. Understood?" Philip had changed from his formalstreet clothing into a gi, which looked to Buffy like overly loose,neatly pressed white pajamas, a black belt cinching the waist.

"Hi." Buffy smiled and waved to her opponent. Philip's lack ofexpression didn't change one bit. Buffy nodded again at Travers. "Right.Protect the dummy."

"As if it were precious! Now, getting the best of Philip will requireagility. Listening to my instructions at the same time will demonstrateclarity. And stamina and strength will win the long fight. Good luck."

"Instructions?" Buffy looked at Giles, confused. Giles shook his head.This was not something he'd ever seen before. Some silly new thingTravers must have dreamed up on the flight over. She looked back atTravers.

"I'll be telling you what to do," he explained—unnecessarily, hethought—"how to counter Philip's attack. You are familiar withJapanese terminology of the martial arts, yes?"

Buffy's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Ah...no? This is the UnitedStates. The demons here don't speak Japanese, they speak UnitedStates'ese. Or mostly they just grunt or growl. Some howl, buttha—"

Travers rolled his eyes. "Well, do the best you can." She was livingdown to expectations admirably.

Buffy loosened up some more then walked in tight circles around thepractice dummy—the one she usually hit rather than prevented frombeing hit—psyching herself up, mumbling. "Protect the dummy. Seethe dummy. Protect the dummy. See the dummy. BE thedum—" She angrily shook herself. "No, scratch that! See, protect,see, protect." Buffy circled again, mumbling, when she saw Philipalready in a fighting stance. She got into a stance herself, for somereason feeling she had to mimic her opponent.

Philip suddenly bowed formally, briefly placing a fist into the palm ofhis other hand in front of him.

"Uh?" Buffy looked toward Giles, who nodded. She attempted her bestimitation of Philip's bow and returned to her stance.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Of course you can best our Philip. You are theslayer after all." Travers chuckled lightly. "We will create a morelevel playing field." He bent down and withdrew a large bandanna fromPhilip's equipment bag. As he approached Buffy he began to lift it infront of her eyes.

"Whoa, back off there a minute!" Buffy stepped away, warding off Travers'gift'.

Travers stopped, looked at Giles and waited calmly.

"Buffy, please. Put the blindfold on."

"I will do it." She grudgingly took the blindfold from Travers andstared at it balefully.

"Over the eyes, please."

Buffy grumbled but did as asked.

Travers returned to stand beside Giles.

"Begin." And Travers shouted some incomprehensible Japanese.

Philip circled around Buffy. Head co*cked oddly, Buffy tried to followhis movements by the sound of his footfalls on the mat. He suddenlylunged toward the dummy.

Again Travers shouted out.

"Huh? What the heck is that?"

Despite Travers distraction, at the last moment she managed to awkwardlyjump in Philip's way. His feint turned into a kick and she took the fullforce on her side. Although Philip didn't have slayer or vampirestrength, he was nevertheless strong and well trained, delivering asolid blow to her ribs. She gasped and doubled-up, momentarily bracingherself with her hand on the floor, holding herself across the ribs withthe other. Philip backed away as she unleashed a wild roundhouse kick,foot swooshing through thin air. He attacked again from a differentangle as she regained her balance. This time she nearly blocked hispunch with her forearm, deflecting most of the blow.

One more time Travers called out a command, which distracted her enoughthat Philip was able to land a punch flush on her cheek.

Belatedly, Giles called out to punch back. At least it was in English."Thanks, Giles. Tell me something I don't know!" She rubbed her sorecheek.

"Sorry. I'll try to do better," a chagrined Giles apologized

Travers kept calling out nonsense, Giles kept trying to translate,Philip feinted and attacked. This went on for some minutes with Buffyusually barely managing to absorb or deflect the attacks.

"Uh...back kick, left elbow—"

Buffy back-kicked at a noise behind her and Philip easily pirouetted outof the way. She swung with her left elbow and again he avoided thestrike.

"—ah, strike?"

Travers looked annoyed and signaled Philip to back off. "This is yourhybrid technique, Giles? You combined the agility of a cow with theawareness of a sloth? Just how have you been training her?"

Giles responded hotly. "I've trained her to win! I think that's thegeneral idea, is it not?"

Travers waved his hand and Philip sidling over towards the weapons rack.

Maybe because Travers had pushed his buttons so, or that he was at aloss for a better idea, Giles gave in to an awful temptation. It wasperhaps unfortunate one of the evenings he had joined his young chargesin a movie marathon at Cordelia and Xander's they had played the StarWars trilogy. It was an interesting experience for him. He was surprisedto note the cast included several excellent British actors, includingAlec Guinness. He tried to educate the young crowd on the history andquality of the cast, but they were more interested in seeing evil-Empireass being kicked. When he tried to elucidate the parallels between theirown battle against evil and the on-screen drama he endured good-naturedribbing as their Obi-Wan.

The result today was... "The Force! Use The Force,Lu—err—Buffy." If nothing else, the expression on Traversface was worth it, Giles thought, no matter today's outcome.

Buffy's reaction was priceless too. She was astonished, completelydropping her guard. "Wha-a-at?!?"

Once committed to the insanity he felt he should play it to the fullest."You heard me," stolidly commanded Giles. In for a penny, in for apound.

Buffy threw up her hands. "Whatever." It was sheerest silliness, butafter a moment she actually seemed to calm down as she settled into aready pose. Buffy let every muscle relax, flexing her neck left thenright. Slowly exhaling, she let her thoughts drift as they wanted. Sheimagined being on a beach with her friends, late afternoon sun warmingher skin. As she did so her mind became two, different aspects ofherself separating themselves from the amalgam of Slayer, nee BuffySummers.

Buffy the young woman stayed on the beach. The other, Slayer past andpresent, became aware of every minutia within the room. The Slayershifted her balance slightly over the balls of her feet and, despite theoutward look of relaxation, her muscles were tightening, coiling upenergy, ready to flow or explode as needed. Through her toes, the Slayersensed the way the floorboards, even through the matting, flexed asPhilip moved about. She heard the slightest change of echos off thewalls and the way his movements and posture affected them. She senseddifferences in the movement of air upon her cheeks. Though the blindfoldwas opaque it allowed light and dark to show through and she was able tointegrate even that minimal feedback into the overall picture forming inher mind.

Yet at the same time she was just Buffy Summers. She did not allowherself to think of attacks or strikes or blocks, only of warm suncaressing bare skin. Of joyful times spent with family and friends.

With sudden crystalline clarity she "saw" exactly where Philip was inprecise relationship to herself, and exactly what he was about to do.She moved in smooth efficient response. Philip swung his heavy club.She ducked under and turned. Though surprised how Buffy avoided hisswing, Philip twirled swiftly to follow through and bring it around foran overhead blow. Just as quickly Buffy reached up and caught the shaft,completely stopping the momentum. With both holding the club, in quicksuccession Buffy kicked him in the stomach, twice to the ribs, thenplanted both feet and shoved. Despite his much greater weight hecouldn't stop her from forcing him back against the training horse tothen be caught by an elbow to the face and another kick to the ribs. Thecombined hits had sufficiently weakened him that the weapon was easilyplucked from his hands and flung backwards over her shoulder. Withnothing to hold him up anymore Philip slumped forwards onto the floor,thankful the fight was over.

Travers managed to dodge out of the club's path by gracelessly fallinginto Giles, who caught him before he hit the floor.

Buffy, not even breathing hard, peeked from under the blindfold andwinced. "Uh-oh."

Giles grinned at Buffy then smirked at Travers. "It appears the dummy isstill quite safe, wouldn't you agree, Quentin?"

"I think she broke my ribs," groaned Philip. He allowed Buffy to gentlyhelp him back to his feet and guide him, tottering to a bench, takingshallow breaths to minimize the pain.

"Yes, well...." Travers coughed into his hand.

Buffy came over. "I didn't mean to. Um, you know, I, I can do better. Ithink I might be getting this, And, and... we know where the hospitalis, we could help him g—"

Travers shook his head. "No, that's all right, we'll take care of him. Idon't think we need any more physical tests. We can move on to the realreview: your research techniques, how you stratagize, tactics andplanning. Let's figure out what goes on up here." He tapped her head.

Buffy huffed. "Great. Head stuff." She returned Giles smile and went toclean up and prepare for the rest of the day.

That reminded Travers of something he still wanted checked. He signaledNigel to join him and he whispered to have him get the names andaddresses of Buffy's friends. Interviews with all would be necessary.

He forgot how good slayer hearing can be. Buffy stopped in her tracksand spun about. "Talk to my friends?!"

Though irritated at his forgetfulness of slayer abilities, Travers knewshe would have found out soon enough in any case. "Yes, we understandyou're still taking civilians on patrols. If they're 'part of the team'then they too are part of the review."

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!" She stomped off.

–––

"Hey Jinx, you've got scabs on top of your scabs!"

Jinx raised his head from his obsequious bow to reveal his bandaged butstill bruised face, healing scabs still showing. "Your Most BenevolentlyConcerned, it is part of Ben's reply: He won't help." Jinx indicated thenew bruises and ducked again. "He wanted us to know he meant it."

Glory was confused. How could Ben do anything but help? "He isn't?Isn't g-going to help?" Surely she heard wrong!

The psychometric quantum metamorphosis forced upon her in thisbanishment, creating not only this female-shaped human container, butalso a probabilistic phased entanglement with a separate and true humanmale counterpart, got more aggravating by the century. Why couldn't Ben,her entangled partner, see the glory she was and do all she bade?

"No." Jinx knew he must stay firm. One of the few things he couldappreciate about His Glorificus was her intolerance of unpleasantsurprises. Better to take punishment for bad news now than a certainpainful demise as the messenger of utter failure later. He continued toobserve carefully as she mused to herself, in case he needed to makehasty exit.

"All he has to do is turn over that squirming slayer. I have businesswith her. I know she knows how to find my Key... argh!" She grabbed herhead in frustration, pulling her hair. "He could go to her. He couldseduce her, bang her." With each word Glory got herself more and moreirritated. "Slayers always know things they shouldn't!"

Jinx watched curiously, wondering which would happen first. Would herhair slice through her fingers? Or would her scalp tear off? To his milddisappointment neither happened as Glory calmed down. "Yes, you arequite right."

"Well, if Ben won't, then I'll talk to her myself."

–––

"Who's making dinner?" Cordelia called from the sofa as Xander enteredtheir apartment.

Xander hung up his coat before answering. "Throw for it?"

Cordelia thought for a moment too long, allowing time for Xander'sinfectious smile to work. She nodded, got up and grimly set herselfacross the counter from him, their usual battleground for this duel.

As Xander prepared himself he could literally hear Ennio Morricone'shaunting score playing in his mind, drowning out all other sound. Theyeyed each other carefully, squinting, looking for any sign or tell thatwould give an advantage in the upcoming battle-royale.

Cordelia tried a feint with a raised eyebrow.

Xander countered with soft placid eyes, looking up from under his brows.

She switched to an ominous death-glare, toe tapping on the hardwoodfloor.

He shifted strategies, taking deep even breaths to calm himself, andsquinted his own glare, eyes like ice.

Cordelia executed her most certain tactic: crossing her legs, rollingher shoulders forward and leaning towards him, displaying much cleavage,and slowly running her tongue over glossed lips.

His line of sight dropped momentarily, but he had been expecting thisand quickly locked eyes with her again.

They were both too hardened and experienced to fall for any suchtrickery and soon raised their right fists together.

"On three?"

She nodded curtly.

"One," Cordelia said, as they pumped their fists down and back, eachmaintaining eye-contact, neither blinking.

"Two," answered Xander. Again they threw their fists. Again their eyeswere riveted on the other's.

"Three!" they announced in unison. This time their hands were fullyout-thrust. For an endless time they continued their fruitless attemptsto stare down the other, neither willing to glance at the outcome,instead daring the other to give in.

Finally an imperceptible silent signal was exchanged and they lookeddown together.

"Rock smashes scissors!"

"Damn." There was a short dejected pause, quickly passed over. "OK, whatdo you want, dear?"

Cordelia clapped her hand over her heart. "Oh my! An almost notsarcastic 'dear'. I swoon from the fervor of your enthusiasm. Andwhoever said you couldn't sweep a girl off her feet, posh!" she mocked.

Xander grumbled, "But it's got to be something with stuff we have."

"Hmm..." Cordelia tapped her chin with the perfectly polished nail ofher finger, attracting Xander's attention. She gazed at the ceiling inthought, considering possibilities. "Stir-fry. Braised tofu insesame-seed oil, red bell pepper, baby corn, water chestnuts, mushrooms,a dash of white pepper, a sprinkling of fennel. Brown rice on the side.Coffee, decaf."

Although he loved and preferred his meat and potatoes (with a Twinkiechaser), he in fact would ingest just about anything. He started gettingout the ingredients she had suggested, knives and a cutting board as shelooked on.

The phone rang near the end of their meal. Xander went to answer. "HeyGiles! What's up?" He pointed with excitement at the phone. "It'sGiles!"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Now hush so I can hear what he's saying."

Cordelia heaved an exasperated breath, but listened quietly to Xander'sside of the conversation while she cleared the table, leaving thecoffee.

"Yeah?" Xander frowned. "They do? Why?" His frown deepened into a scowl."Crap. OK, when? Uh huh. OK, thanks. See you later."

A very unhappy Xander returned to the table and sat, grabbed his mug butdidn't pick it up, just rolling it from one hand to the other.

"Well?" Cordelia demanded when he didn't speak.

He took a gulp before answering. "They want to talk to us. Everyone, infact. We're up to bat tomorrow morning."

"They? The stuffed-shirts?" she guessed.

Xander nodded.

"About what? Buffy?"

Xander shrugged.

"OK, Oz imitation down pat. Be Xander for me and use words?"

Xander relayed the 'heads-up' information Giles had given him, thattomorrow they should expect someone from the Council. Unfortunately hewas short on the details of what might be asked. But, Giles warned,whatever they did, do not hurt their chances for getting theinformation. After his recitation, Xander was long in the face.

Cordelia, however, looked thoughtful, nodding to herself. "OK, noproblem."

"No problem?!" exclaimed Xander. "Did we see the same people march intoyour store? Do you remember the Cruciamentum? And Wesley?" He put hishand up to stop her protest. "Sorry. But no, this is not 'no problem'.Problem, comma, this is."

Cordelia shook her head, disagreeing. "We've just got to be prepared.It's like preparing for a role," she explained. "We need to be somethingwe're not. Or rather you do, and I need to give my best-supportingactress performance to help you out." She tugged him over to the livingroom where they could sit and talk it over.

"We could do good-cop/bad-cop," she mused.

"We're the interrogate-ees, not the interrogate-ors." But Cordelia'sthoughts got his own into gear. "How about 'Dumb & Dumber'?"

Cordelia pursed her lips and sat back, thinking. "So I'm the smart one,huh?" She nodded her head decisively, ignoring Xander scowl. "Yeah, Ilike that, it has real possibilities."

"Sure, whatever you say."

"Good. OK, so how about this..." Cordelia described several variousscenarios they might have to deal with and how they should respond toeach. They continued hashing out ideas late into the night. By the timethey parted ways for their own rooms Xander felt about as ready as hewas ever going to be for the next morning's interview.

–––

"Xander."

The three were sitting in the apartment, Xander and Cordelia side byside on the sofa, facing the Council's delegate across the coffee table.

Philip was very uncomfortable from sparring with Buffy and did his bestto hide it, but still winced every time he shifted in the hard kitchenchair provided him. He didn't know Xander and Cordelia had re-arrangedthe furniture so light from the morning sun was streaming in through the bigwindows behind them, making him squint every time he looked up from hisnotes. He co*cked his eyebrow, poised to write down all pertinentinformation. "Xander? That's your real name?"

"It's Alexander, but no one ever calls him that," said Cordelia.

Xander sighed. He then recited what he remembered of his Halloween alterego's rank and service number. "Harris, Alexander L. Master Sergeant.Three Two Seven Three Eight Three Oh Six." The name wouldn't match ifthe watcher ever bothered to look it up, and of course he was far tooyoung to have been a master sergeant. Not my problem, Xander figured.

Philip jotted down the information in precise blocky script. He had beeninstructed not to filter any information through his own opinions orjudgments. He was to just record all answers at face value. The full delegationwould discuss and analyze the information later in context with datagathered from the others. He looked up and asked, "What is it, exactly,that you do?"

"Oh, we watch her back."

Cordelia elbowed Xander. "We watch her back. You watch her butt."

"Oh right," Xander agreed with a goofy smile. "I watch the back of herbutt!" He frowned, puzzled. "Ah, no, wait...that would be her crotch,wouldn't it?" Both Cordelia and Philip looked at him, Cordelia'sblistering glare to Philip's confused gawk. Xander's face screwed up infeigned concentration then cleared. "No, I don't do that."

The heat in Cordelia's expression came down a few degrees to one merelyable to melt icebergs.

"Anymore!" hastily added Xander in his final defense. After anothermoment Xander ducked his head. "OK, not as much as anymore."

"That's your tale and you're not budging, huh?" Cordelia askedskeptically.

"Ah, yeah?"

Philip decided it was time to take back the initiative. He glanced downat his list of notes and questions and opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could utter a sound, Xander quickly jumped into the silence."Hey, was I right about those stats?" He lightly backhanded Philip onthe knee.

"Stats? What stats?"

Xander looked disbelieving. "On Buffy! Biggest demons defeated? Mostvampires dusted per year? Longest lived? Y'know, the slayertriple-crown: kill for power, kill for average, most apocalypsesaverted. Well, huh?"

"It's, it's—" Philip coughed into his hand and too casually tried toignore the question. "That's not important. What is important is yourcooperation."

"Hah, I knew it," Xander crowed, falling back against the sofa. He heldout his hand, palm up, in front of Cordelia. "Payday!"

Cordelia made grumbly noises but nevertheless reached for her wallet onthe end table. "A paragon of graceless victory," she mumbled as sheslapped a single into his hand.

Angry with himself he had yet to establish proper control over thesechildren, Philip looked on impatiently at their interplay, then suddenlyleaned away from Xander's out-held fist.

Xander's brow knitted in concern. He examined his fist, twisting it thisway and that before looking back up at Philip. "Is it dirty? Hey, dude,just wanted to thank you," he explained, waving the bill with his otherhand, "It's a knuckle tap."

"Knuckle tap?"

"Yeah. Hold out your hand like I'm doing. Right, just like that." Xanderlightly tapped knuckles with Philip.

Perhaps it was the pain-killers he'd taken, or maybe it was jet-lag, butsuddenly Philip felt overwhelmed. He was hot, very tired, and just wantedthis over with as quickly as possible. "Fine. Now, can we please get onwith it?" he said in a resigned tone.

Xander airily motioned him to continue. "Please. We're burnin' daylighthere."

Philip once again read the points to be addressed. "Have you masteredany fighting disciplines? Any special skills?"

"Killing vamps."

Philip made a quick note. "Anything else?"

Xander looked up and thought. "Well," he began slowly and dramatically,"I guess I've made a few special kills of demons. I call them S-kills.Does that count?"

Philip looked up. "Ess kills?"

"Do you need me to spell that?" Xander sat up to look over the top ofPhilip's pad to see that he wrote down the answer correctly."s-k-i-l—"

"Sorry, dear, but punning demons to death does not count."

"Rats."

Cordelia patted Xander on the hand sympathetically. "That's OK, we'llkeep working on it." She looked over at Philip to explain. "We've goneto all the doctors and tried the best therapies, but nothing seems tohelp." She shrugged with heartfelt but helpless concern.

By now Philip didn't care at all. Ask the questions, record the answers,and get the hell out.

"Any other knowledge or powers that you bring to the table? Either ofyou?"

Both squirmed a little, but not enough that Philip noticed orunderstood. "No, nothing."

Philip looked at Cordelia. "And you?"

"Cordelia Anne Chase. Do you want my rank?"

Philip shook his head. He would get nothing useful from these two. ButTravers would insist the formalities be followed. Thankfully there wereonly a few more points to cover.

"You're recently returned to Sunnydale, correct?"

"Yes."

"In the prior year and a half you've been associating with the vampire,Angelus?"

"No."

He flipped through his notes, looking carefully. He arrived at the pagehe wanted, to which small photographs were clipped. He showed one toCordelia.

"Oh, yes!" Cordelia answered brightly. "Angel Investigations."

"You prefer calling him Angel, then?"

"Yes. That's Angel." She pointed to the figure between her and Wesley.

"What's the difference?" Philip and Xander both asked, though not withthe same inflection.

Cordelia glared at Xander. She could understand Xander's views regardingAngel...up to a point. But despite all his faults, and the troublecaused while Angelus was free, she firmly believed Angel and Angeluswere two different entities, though obviously inextricably linked. Shewasn't exactly sure how to draw the line between them, largely dueto their sharing the same physical body and memories, but she wascertain there was a difference. Angel did things Angelus could neverhave. The line was there even if it was a bit blurry. Her answer was asmuch for Xander as for this watcher.

"Compare what the four of us did every day out there on the streetswhere the evil you claim to be at war with, compare that to what you do.When was the last time you staked a vampire? When was the last time youactually helped someone?" She was rising off the sofa, face flushed.

"Whoa, Cordy!" Xander gently pulled her back down. He could see this wasa hot-button issue for Cordelia, one they should circle back to togetherat a better time.

Philip sniffed and shrugged off her questions. He was just doing hisjob. And it was only five months since their annual training sessionswhen he staked a captured vampire. Surely this girl could do no better.

He had one final question. "Do either of you know of the Key?" he askedcasually.

"Yeah! I know them all."

Philip's head snapped up, suddenly more interested than he had been theentire interview. "Yes?"

Xander looked at Cordelia, who shrugged. This they were prepared for."Yeah, you mean these keys, right?" He pulled out his large ring of keysand began describing each and every one. "This gold-ish one's for theapartment, this big silvery one is my car key, this weird-looking thingis for a padlock at the 1138 El Camino Real site, this one—"

"Never mind!" Philip slapped his notepad closed and rose to leave.

–––

"Mom?" Buffy called out as she came through the front door.

Buffy arrived home late in the evening, still in a foul mood after the"demonstration" two days ago for Travers. That alone was reason enoughfor her mood. She hadn't yet talked to her friends about theirinterviews yesterday but was still incensed the Council had dragged theminto this. Or was she angry with herself for allowing them to beinvolved in slayer issues in the first place? She wasn't sure, and thatwas yet a third source of anger and frustration. Finally, this lastpatrol was a total bust. Not one measly vamp to take out herfrustrations on. She shook her head as she hung up her coat. Now home,she was determined to put the slayer aside to be with family.

"Mom!" she yelled again. No answer. "Huh." She listened carefully andheard noises from the living room and headed there. When she rounded thecorner she saw Glory. "Ack!" Buffy stopped short, her mouth hangingopen.

"Long day, sweetie?" inquired Glory from by the fireplace, setting downan old picture of Joyce, Dawn, and Buffy, before turning around. Shesauntered about the room, talking absently over her shoulder. "So. Thisdreary, moldy little cave is where the slayer eats, sleeps, and sh*ts?Oh." She stopped and picked up another photo, just Dawn and Joyce, andmade a tsk'ing sound. "So-o-o cute." Glory put the picture back,continuing to gaze upon it. "Personally? I need more space, but ifquaint slime-holes works for you, then..." She shrugged.

While Glory had circled the room, her back to Buffy, Buffy movedopposite, ending up by the fireplace where she had first seen Glory.Buffy reached for the heavy wrought-iron poker. When Buffy straightenedup, before she could even blink, Glory was right behind, shaking herhead in disappointment.

"Now, now. slayer, if I wanted to fight," Glory said sadly, easilypulling the poker from Buffy's loose fingers, "we wouldn't be havingthis pleasant little chat. Didn't your mom teach you to play nice,little girl?"

Buffy blinked. She had rarely felt this powerless. "What do you want?"

Cooperation! Glory beamed. "The Key! Why else do you think I'd comehere? See, I know slayers always know things like that. That's a goodthing for you."

"It is?" Buffy dubiously asked.

"Well, it's the only thing keeping you alive right now. You may be theKiller Queen to the toothy leaches in this pathetic corner of thecontinuum—" At that moment, behind Glory, Dawn entered through thefront door. It seemed, somehow, Glory didn't hear, apparently caught upin her own nattering. Buffy hoped Glory didn't notice her looking atDawn. "—but to me, you're just a bee. A buzzing little bug."Glory's tone shifted instantly from jovially friendly to angry andcommanding. "You should be down on your knees worshiping me!"

Dawn saw Buffy was with some stranger and started to walk towards theliving room. Buffy gave a tiny cut of her eyes, hoping Dawn would seeand go away.

Glory's mercurial mood reverted back to friendly as she rambled. "Butoh, no, you still think it's neat having slayer strength. Stronger thanhumans? Big deal, my left nipple is stronger than an army of youmonkey-men."

After a moment's hesitation Dawn realized what Buffy had been trying tosignal, though she didn't know why, and backed away.

"But I need the Key, see? I know it's around here, I can practicallysmell it on you." Glory leaned forward a little, sniffing.

Dawn turned toward the stairs.

Without breaking her focus on Buffy, Glory snapped, "Hey, kid!"

Dawn froze.

"C'mere a sec."

"Leave her out of this. This is just between you and me."

"Yoo-hoo, not asking twice," Glory sang out, still fixated on Buffy.

Dawn slowly came back. She didn't have any idea who this stranger was,but if Buffy seemed freaked out then that was good enough reason for herto be also.

When Glory was satisfied Dawn had returned she addressed Buffy again."No. This is between me and my Key. You happen to be in the way.Temporarily." Glory raised her hand over her head and snapped herfingers. Dawn walked all the way into the room to stand by Buffy andfolded her arms sullenly. The entire time Glory watched her closely."What's yer name, honey-pie?"

"Uh, Dawn."

"Well listen, Uhdawn. Your sister took my Key."

Buffy needed to keep the focus off her sister. "I didn't take anything!I never even met you until a little while ago. I don't know what yourcapital-K 'Key' is." She didn't think absolute strict honesty wasnecessary here and now.

Glory flipped her hair back. "Took. Keep. Know. Have. Nine-tenths.What's the difference? You've got it and I don't!" she snarled. FacingDawn again, like quicksilver her mood was cheerful and cajoling again."But I bet you know where she put it, don't you, Uhdawn?"

"She doesn't know anything." insisted Buffy, trying distract Glory.

"I do too know stuff!" Dawn snapped. She really didn't understand whatthe crazy lady was going on about—some lost car keys orsomething—but she did know when Buffy was being a patronizingbig-sister ass.

"I bet she takes little sister's stuff all the time without asking,doesn't she?" asked Glory sympathetically. Without breaking rhythm sheasked, "Where's my Key, Uhdawn?"

"Upstairs, Dawn. Now!" commanded Buffy.

Dawn hated when Buffy got all commander-y with her. Her sister wasn'tthat much older, and most certainly not smarter. She was just stronger."You're always talking about stuff I'm not supposed to hear. I'm gonnafigure it out, you know." Dawn turned on her heel and ran up the stairsto her room, Glory letting her go.

"Ooh, I like her! She's sassy," crowed Glory. "I'll kill her. I'll killeveryone you know," she said evenly, light-heartedly, and all thescarier for it. Human life meant less than nothing to her. "I'll killeveryone you've ever heard about and some you haven't. And I'll do itslowly, right in front of you. Rip their limbs off, peel their skinback." Mercy was inconceivable. There was only one thing: power. Withpower you got anything else you wanted, when and how you wanted it.Like the Key.

Glory sighed. "Just give me the Key. You have it or know where to findit. Like they say, this is the deal of a lifetime and, unlike Morris,you only get one. Next time something you love dies slow, bloody andpainful. You know you can't stop me." Glory dropped the poker she'd beenabsently holding the whole time. It clattered against the edge of thecoffee table before falling with a soft plunk onto the carpet. She leftwithout further ceremony.

Buffy stood rooted to the same spot for minutes—hours, itseemed—as scared as she had ever been, staring at the door throughwhich Glory had just left. She could not remember being this numbinglyfrightened. It was awhile before she even realized how much she wasshaking. There had been times when she was plenty scared, prophecies ofdeath or something equally dire, and an abstract fear of what couldhappen to humankind as a whole. But ultimately she had always "mannedup", as Riley might have said, faced her fear and, with a bit of help,overcome it. No, Buffy didn't care about her own personal danger, shewas quite used to that by now, letting it wash through her, past her,leaving her better able to handle the threat.

This was different, magnitudes worse. This time her blood family, thepeople closest to her, people not only part of her life but wereher life, were directly threatened. So Buffy shook, not knowing what todo. Her only thought was to grab her mom and sister and run as far andas fast as possible. She also believed it wouldn't work. Glory wouldcatch her easily.

In her quivering reverie, Buffy didn't hear her mom padding in from theden, wearing a rumpled terry-cloth robe, eyes blinking like she'd justwoken up from a nap. "Buffy? Buffy, I thought I heard voices? Who wasthat?" Mrs. Summers peered about but didn't see anyone. Perhaps it wasmerely a dream.

What to do? Run? Stay? Roll over and pretend it was all a horriblenightmare?

"Buffy?"

Then Buffy realized something. She was still standing, Dawn and mom too,not a hair touched. If Glory could do exactly as threatened, and Buffyknew Glory could, then why didn't she? Why all the talk? Buffy wasn'tcertain, but an inkling of an idea occurred to her. She grinned whenanswering.

"Jehovah's Witnesses."

–––

The door bounced when Glory threw it closed upon her return.

Used to this, her minions didn't react other than to bow low and greether as she expected. "You've returned to us, Light of the EverlastingGreatness of All, uhh... Tidings of Greatness," rattled off Jinx,scuttling into the foyer, bowing as Glory continued past. He hurriedafter her into the main living room. "Did the tiny human female withyellow fur on top cooperate?" He immediately sensed Glory was in acantankerous mood and regretted asking.

"No!" snarled Glory. Her power was so limited here, reduced to nothingbut this soft, impervious human-shaped imprisonment (though alsogorgeous, she admitted). Sharing it with something as annoying as Benwas also just so, so... annoying! Her cabal of conspirators, herhand-picked pantheon, how they had turned on her. She would punish thosewho had cast her out, to show them who was truly the most glorious,magnificent and powerful. Clever they were, but she would force her wayback and make a feast of vengeance of them.

Jinx shook his head mournfully. Despite Glory's meandering stories ofwonder and rapture of The Origin, he knew it was not from theperspective of his kind's existence there. Dreg's near blasphemouscomments kept invading his own thoughts. What would it be like withouther? he wondered. He shivered in fear and quickly tamped downthat dangerous concept. "If only Ben would see the wisdom ofcooperation and how much better it would be for all of us. He must beinsane." Jinx flinched as he uttered the last word. "Insane" was not aterm to use near Glory, even when referring to someone else. He relaxedwhen she didn't react. In fact she seemed to become more thoughtful,scowl fading.

Glory snapped her fingers, her scowl transformed into a beatific,childishly gleeful grin. "That's it!" She snapped her fingers again."That's it, exactly. Oh, sweet lumpy minion, you're the only one thatunderstands—probably cause I haven't sucked your brain out yet."She turned. "I know exactly what to do with our little toothy pet."

–––

Xander was surprised Cordelia was present when he returned to theirapartment. Usually she was still at the shop or off doing something elseabout town when he got home from work. This time he heard her voice themoment he opened the door, hearing one half of a phone conversation withsomeone named Chris. He hung up his jacket and pulled off his workboots and entered the kitchen to dig up a snack. He gave her a quicksmile and wave and silently mouthed "Hi" when she looked up. She wavedback but didn't let her attention stray. Xander found a piece of pizzasitting in the fridge. Perfect. He discarded the wrapping and silentlymunched on it as Cordelia finished her call, virtually floating on air.

"Who was that?"

Cordelia smiled impishly. "I'd rather not say."

Xander straightened. "But—"

She shook her head firmly, still smiling.

"Fine." Xander's sulk didn't bother Cordelia in the least. She hummed toherself as she went to the living room to catch up on the latest glossymagazine before they left for the shop that evening. Xander muttered tohimself as he picked cold sausage out of his teeth. Their friendshipwas now clearly and openly established, growing deeper every day, but itwas still a process he was getting used. He wanted to get more from herbut was not yet confident enough to presume too much.

So fine, she had a little secret she wanted to keep, big deal! But itreally bugged him. With a start, he realized he was jealous. Who wasthis Chris person? Did she just meet him somewhere? Maybe a flirtingcustomer and they hit it off while he paid for crystallized lizard bile?And Xander had just walked in on them arranging a date?

Damn it, he hated he was allowing her to make him feel this way.

–––

Except for Buffy herself, everyone was in the shop that evening at theappointed time of the final summary. Willow and Xander were on one sideof the back reading table, Tara and Cordelia opposite them. One of thewatchers hovered nearby, but not so obnoxiously that anyone bothered tocomment.

Travers was at the main table, sipping from a cup of tea brought to himby one of his underlings. He seemed confident, comfortable, completelyin control. He watched bemused as Giles paced back and forth in front ofthe cash register.

"How did yours go?" Xander whispered, leaning towards Willow on hisright.

Willow looked unhappy as she shook her head and frowned. "I don't know.He got me all jumbled up. I'm not sure we helped out."

Tara agreed. "He asked about magic levels and stuff. We've never heardof such a thing, so we were kinda making up stuff." She also lookedglum, bobbing her head in unneeded apology.

"Yeah. Tara's been at this her whole life. And Giles never mentionedanything," Willow pointed out. "Ms. Calendar's books or files didn'thave any of that stuff. And none of the covens talk about it either."

Xander sat back and laced his fingers behind his head. "Maybe it was aploy?" He looked back and forth between Tara and Willow. "Y'know, totrip you guys up?"

Cordelia was keeping an eye on Travers and his Council members but hadalso been listening to Willow, Tara, and Xander. She turned when sheheard Xander's speculation. "I don't think it's going to matter withthis bunch." She inclined her head towards Travers. "They're going to dowhatever they want, whether or not they have an excuse."

–––

"Crap," muttered Buffy when she spotted two oddly dressed thugs blockingthe alley, her usual short-cut to the Magic Box. She was on her way tohave the final confrontation with the Council, take her lumps and get itover with. She did not need to deal with bunch of Three Musketeercopy-cats. Then she recognized them. "Hey, I've seen you guys before!"The two looked at each other and shook their heads. "Yeah, yeah, a fewweeks ago near the Magic Box. You're those loonies that got lost fromthe Renaissance Faire, right? Hasn't it left town yet?" They stilllooked confused. "What, did you guys miss the bus or something?" shelaughed. In response they withdrew their swords.

"Is there any way we could not do this?" She snickered and pointed. "Forone thing, you guys just look silly." A moment after speaking sherealized both of them were as deadly serious as they were silly. Sheturned her head slightly at a scraping sound behind her, not needing toactually look when two others dressed in similar medieval garb appeared."I guess we do do this," she murmured.

She would just demonstrate to them they had picked the wrong night totangle with the wrong girl, and let them off with a minimum of bruises,mostly to their egos. Maybe they'd learn something. Thankfully, shethought, they hadn't run into Glory. She suspected they did not knowtheir good fortune. "First, let's introduce ourselves. I'm Buffy, you'remeat. I don't need this and you're about to grab some pine," she said,borrowing baseball slang she'd heard Xander once use. She made abeckoning gesture with her hand. "OK boys, let's see whatcha got."

–––

Travers made a show of pulling out his pocket watch, popping the lid andgazing down his nose at it for many seconds, humming to himself. Hepocketed it with equal flourish. "Well, Rupert, your slayer is twentyminutes late."

"Buffy will be here, I assure you," Giles asserted with more confidencethan he felt. To hide his own nerves he walked over to the sideboard andpoured himself coffee, added cream and sugar and slowly stirred.

"Of course, of course!" Travers chuckled. "But when?" He was immenselyenjoying this driving of the final nails into a pre-ordained coffin oftheir inevitable conclusion. In the meanwhile, to enliven things a bitif nothing more, he had one final loose end. "As long as we're waiting,there is one small matter we haven't been able to clear up. Perhaps youcan help." He motioned Nigel over, who reached into an attache he wascarrying, extracted a thick folder, and handed it to Travers.

Giles rolled his eyes. "What color hoop this time?"

Travers thumbed back and forth through the file. "The vampire, WilliamThe Bloody?" Travers grimaced at the coarse name preferredby the vampire. "You also may know him as Spike. A small matter but we would like therecord to be accurate as possible."

Taking a sip from his mug, Giles' eyes flicked toward the back whereBuffy's friends were sitting, chatting quietly among themselves. "Whatabout Spike?"

"Simply this: do you know his whereabouts? We know he and your tardyslayer have had quite a number of run-ins. Yet he seems to have survivedthem all."

"What are you implying?" asked Giles, standing straighter.

Travers waved him to calm down. "I'm implying nothing except we know hehas survived, but not where he is." Travers turned at a loud snort fromthe back of the store. Three of the children Buffy associated with werecarefully inspecting their nails or the ceiling. But the boy, Xander, herecalled, was not bothering to hide his smirk. "Is this amusing to you,boy? A most dangerous master vampire is unaccounted for!"

"And I guess that's why you're called Watchers," Willow said in asing-song voice.

They all burst out laughing. Giles more subtly hid his grin behind hisupraised mug, thankful he wasn't mid-sip. Hot coffee in the nose was nothis favorite sensation.

"Stop this nonsense at once!" Travers commanded. "I want to know aboutWilliam."

After several moments Xander was calm enough to answer. "That's thefunny part."

"That you know everything," added Willow, hiccuping between giggles.

"You want to know about Spike? We can tell you about Spike."

"Well?"

"He's been a master dust-bunny for, oh..." Xander glanced at his watchand then looked up as he attempted to do math in his head, "at leastseveral weeks now."

"Dust-bunny?" Travers tried to decipher the idiom. "He's been staked?"

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," confirmed Willow.

Travers turned on Giles. "When did Buffy slay him? Why didn't you reportto us? This is a gross dereliction of duty!"

"You recall I don't work for you any more, hmm? Besides, it wasn'tBuffy."

Travers shook off his anger. "Who, then?"

"Her."

Travers turned to see Giles was pointing to his employee. Cordelia, herecalled.

"Her? How?"

"The usual suspects." Giles smiled. "Teamwork. Training. A bit of luck,I imagine?" he speculated, to which he got a smile and nod of agreementfrom Cordelia.

–––

Buffy's attackers held out their swords expertly.

"You boys sure like your toys, don't you?"

The presumed leader replied. "We know who you are, slayer. You are justone. We are a vast army and we will defeat you."

"Army?" Buffy worked to not bust out laughing. These guys were total goofballscompared to Riley's army (and she hadn't thought overly much of themeither). "A clown army, maybe."

They dropped into cautious fighting stances, arms akimbo, slowlycircling her as they closed in, sword tips tracing circles mere feetfrom her. "We are The Knights of Byzantium, a sacred ancient order," theleader said, righteous pride dripping from every syllable.

"Great." She looked heavenward for relief from this kind of idiocy."Always ancient, always with the sacred, always with the orders." Shepointed at one of the swords, "And always, always, always with thephallic! It's so predictable. You guys need a better shtick." She pauseda beat but got no reaction. "Oh c'mon, Xander would have been proud ofme," pouted Buffy, lower lip pushed out. She heaved a big breath. "Can'twe just be friends and call it a day?"

"We are your enemy!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "And the worst sin of all? You're boring! C'mon,admit it, you're a gang of morons with nothing better to do after losingyour cable subscriptions, right?" Time to bring this stupidity to aclose, thought Buffy. She was angry and frustrated everyone and theiruncle kept coming after her so she cut loose with a little of her ownGlory-tude. "Now listen to this. I'm the new order. The order of 'Idon't give a sh*t what yours is, and if you get in my way I'll stomp onyou'."

The leader looked confused and paused. "What? There's no such thing."

"I just declared it," she declared.

"Ours is ancient and sacred," he protested.

"You said that already. Mine's got more words and has more fun."

She leaped sideways, completely surprising the knight to her left. In ablur lasting seconds, all but one were dis-armed and knocked silly.Armed with a staff taken from one of the fallen, she faced the originalspokesman, who still had his sword. He looked around at his companionslaying about, mumbled something, crossed himself, and began his attack.Buffy twirled the staff and easily slapped the sword aside, clatteringto the pavement. She drove her staff into his gut, stepped inside hisreach and gave him an upper-cut that fully straightened him out. Shebrought the staff up under his chin and pressed him back against analley wall before he could collapse to the ground.

"You work for Glory?" she asked him, barely breaking a sweat.

He spluttered indignantly. "Ally ourselves with The Beast? Us? You mustbe mad!"

"Hmph. You tried killing me, you must be with her." The logic seemedclear enough.

"We were mistaken to bring so few. Next time it will be hundreds,thousands! We will not let you protect the Key for the Beast's use."

Stunned, Buffy fell back, loosening the pressure against him. "I'm notprotecting anything for Glory," she stated the literal truth. There wasno way she'd let these guys know about Dawn.

"You have the Key. You must. If you are not destroying it, then you areprotecting it," he said fervently, eyes gleaming with fire of the truebeliever. "Destroying it is the only way to rid humanity of The Beast.We will never stop until we do." He turned his head to expose more ofhis neck. "Be done with it. Kill me and legions will follow." With hisupbringing and indoctrination he could not conceive of anything otherthan a merciless death at the hands of The Beast's ally. He'd never meta slayer before nor could he understand that multiple sides existed inthis fight. To him and his order there was only the enemy: Glory. If youweren't in lockstep with the order's goals and means then you could onlybe aligned with The Beast.

Still angry, Buffy momentarily pressed the staff harder against histhroat, making him gurgle and thrash. They were foolish clowns, but theywere human and Buffy couldn't kill him or the others. She dropped thestaff. The knight sagged back against the wall, rubbing his throat. Hewatched carefully when Buffy knelt down to pick up his sword. Sheflipped it in her hand, testing the heft and balance. She pointed it athim. "Go." She was so tired of all this. "Just...just go." She watchedwhile he gathered his comrades, whispered to them quickly and they ranoff.

After the knights disappeared, Buffy gazed down at the small pile ofweapons left behind. She looked at the sword in her hand, so tiny to useagainst the likes of Glory. She thought it remarkable they, merelyhuman, would be willing to stand against Glory when the slayer herselfwas so frightened. True, they had a Righteous Cause and a surplus ofloose screws, but that couldn't account for all of it, not after centuryupon century of defeat. She wondered what kept them going.

She started to trudge in the direction of the shop where she knewTravers was waiting. But also where her mentor Giles was, where herfriends were. As she walked, Buffy kept turning the sword in her hands,watching bright reflections race up and down its length as it caught thelight of passing street lights and traffic signals. The effect wasmesmerizing and she frowned in deep thought as some notions clicked intoplace.

The knight's comments had triggered a more direct and consciousawareness of the role her friends had played in her success all theseyears. Not only success over evil, but also success staying grounded,remaining human, remaining Buffy Summers despite temptation to becomemore (and less) than human.

Despite the slayer lore Giles would repeat till she could scream, shedid not like nor want to stand alone against the darkness.

Although as slayer she bore the majority of responsibility, she realizedthat she could, in fact must, share the burden with her friends.Indeed, her friends wanted that. Even when terrified her friends knewthey were supported by each other, counted on each other, the strengthsof one complementing the lack in another and vice versa. Thus theyovercame their terror together, thus they stood against the darkness,thus she could stand with them and not apart from them.

She recalled her last argument with Riley before he left. She stilldidn't agree with him entirely, but if he could have stayed stronger fora while longer then maybe, together, they could have reached this pointwithout him leaving. However she did begin to understand where he wascoming from and why he ultimately decided to leave.

As she neared the shop Buffy also thought about why everyone wantedsomething from her. Those crazy knights wanted what she had (butcouldn't take from her). Glory wanted it (but seemed too stupid tofigure out what it was she wanted). Why hadn't Glory just slapped herinto next year? And this annoying Council delegation wanted somethingfrom her too. Why didn't they just take it? She was tired of everyonewanting something from her, demanding something from her. And if theycouldn't demand it, or were not even sure what they wanted, then theytried some other tactic.

She suddenly figured out the common factor and smiled. Her slumpedposture became proudly upright and certain.

–––

Travers glanced once more at the clock and shook his head in dismay. Itwas not unexpected, but even to the end he had hoped for better. Nowthey must wrap up this little charade, return to Council chambers andfinalize contingency plans to obtain a new, more docile, pliable slayer.

The door crashed open and Buffy strode through.

"You're late."

"Yes I am." She smiled as she descended the stairs. "Y'know how actuallybeing the point of the sword," Buffy said, taking the sword off hershoulder and swinging it negligently at Travers, "tends to disruptwell-laid schedules?" She used the British pronunciation.

Travers huffed. "Fine. Let's begin, shall we? We'll skip the obviousdeficiencies and move on—"

With a barely audible swoosh the sword's razor edge landed ahairsbreadth from Travers' fingertips, cutting deeply into the table'ssurface.

"No."

"I beg your pardon?" Travers drew himself up to his full imposing heightover the much shorter slayer.

"There are no obvious deficiencies. There will be no moving on. Therewill only be listening, specifically you to me."

Nigel, on Travers' left, stepped forward. "See here—" He pulled upshort and gulped as the sword flashed toward him, stopping just beforepricking the skin of his neck. He hadn't even seen it move.

"No interruptions! Capiche, mes amigo?"

Nigel gulped again, shuddered, stepped back and did his best to controlan urge to wet himself. Travers sat back down.

Buffy returned her full attention to Travers. "See, I've had a lot ofpeople talking at me the last few days. Everyone telling me howunimportant I am, what I should or must do, or mostly what I shouldn'tand can't do. Talk, talk, talk. All talk. Why all the talking, I'mwondering?" Buffy looked around and relaxed seeing she had everyone'sfull attention. She laid the sword on the table, pointed at Travers. Sheremoved her coat and took it to the rack by the door. "Let's start withearlier today. You see, Glory came to my home."

Alarmed, Giles gave a start. "Buffy!"

"It's OK, Giles." She hung up her coat and returned. "I'm a bugaccording to her. A flea. Glory could squash me in a second. She'sright." Buffy paused, tilting her head. "Only she didn't. She came to myhome, we talked." Buffy snorted. "Or mostly she told me all the thingsshe would do to me and how I couldn't stop it. So I listened. But shedidn't actually do anything." Buffy shrugged theatrically. "Interesting,huh?" She circled the table. "And I've just figured out why."

"Why?" asked Giles, genuinely curious.

"In a moment." She stopped circling. "On the way here for thislittle—well, let's be honest, shall we, Quentin?—thisspanking you intend to give me, I ran into some guys. The Knights of,um, ah, Bygones? No..." Buffy looked up, trying to recall. "...theKnights of..." Buffy fumbled for the name, snapping her fingers to jogher memory.

"Byzantium?" tonelessly provided Travers.

She pointed at him. "Yes! Knights of Byzantium."

"Buffy!"

Again Buffy stopped Giles. "It's OK, Giles. It was a Faire fight, easilyhandled. We had a little heart-to-heart. More talking." Buffy ticked offpoints on her fingers. "They came after me because of something theythink I have. Glory came after me, again because of something she thinksI have. The Council are here after me and, except for poor Philipthere," she pointed to the bandaged watcher, "nothing but talking. It'sa regular yak-fest." Buffy leaned over to put her palms flat on thetable, looking Travers in the eye. "So why the festival of yaks? Why allthe talking? What is it I have, I'm wondering? And I've figured it out:Power. I have it. They don't."

She pointed at the impassive Travers. "I've got the power and youdon't." Buffy then pointed to each of the Council members sitting orstanding about the store, in turn. "You didn't come all this way tofigure out if I should be let back into your club." She held up her handto prevent Travers from speaking. "Oh, I know what you thought. And Iknow what you decided before you even arrived. Now it's time to separatefantasy from fact. I've got the power, you don't. You're here to beg meto let you back in. To give a reason for your jobs, your lives."

"This is beyond insolence!"

Buffy snatched the sword from the table and threw it across the room ina single motion. It thunked point-first into the wall directly in frontof Nigel's nose. He leaped back, shocked.

"You don't capiche so well, do you? One more interruption and it will befortunate we're near the world's best plastic surgeons. You may need oneto reassemble your face if you don't shut up."

"So-o-o excellent!" crowed Xander, not quietly, pumping his fist. Willowand Tara grinned. Even Cordelia smirked. She wasn't Buffy's biggest fanbut she absolutely despised these Council people.

"Let's test how well you're capiching, Quentin." Buffy turnedback to face Travers. "Without a slayer, you watchers are pretty muchjust watchin' Gilbert and Sullivan."

"And their investment accounts," commented Cordelia.

Buffy nodded agreement. "You can't stop Glory. No better than me,anyways. You can't do anything with the information you have exceptmaybe publish it in the 'Oh look, We're Useless and Pompous EveningPost'.

Traver's mouth compressed into a hard white line.

"So here's how this works. You tell me everything you know. Now. Thenyou go home. You'll contact us if and when you have any furtherinformation about Glory. This shop remains open. Giles stays as myofficial watcher, reinstated at full salary."

She grinned at a light cough behind her.

"Paid retroactively from the month he was fired," she continued. "I willcontinue to work with my friends."

This time the lone female of Traver's group, Beatrix, spoke up. "I, uh,I don't want a sword thrown at me, b-but they're just children."

"Children? How many vampires have you killed?"

Buffy had asked the question of Beatrix but it was Nigel who proudlystraightened his back and answered. "Three!"

Snickers were heard all around.

"These 'children' guarded the Hellmouth for an entire summer. Anyguesses how many vampires and demons they dusted or killed? No? Well,you don't have enough fingers and toes among all of you to count thathigh." Buffy put out her hand palm down and waggled it. "Children?Maybe. But I'd put Xander and Cordelia up against any of you."

Travers scoffed. "Any human might get lucky in a fight. But what aboutthe long term? What good can they do?"

Buffy pointed at Beatrix. "You. You wrote a thesis on Spike, right? Youthink you know a lot about demons and evil and stuff?"

Beatrix nodded uncertainly.

"Very good." Buffy sauntered over, stopping with fists planted on hips,and looked directly up at her. "What's the difference between aSla'ganth and an al-mSlg!nth demon?"

The woman tried desperately to maintain eye contact with Buffy butcouldn't. "Well...um..." She brought up her elegant leather briefcaseand began to open it.

"You're going to fight them with your backpack?" Buffy innocently asked.

Insulted, the woman sharply replied, "Of course not! But, ah, I need toconsult my references."

Buffy swung her left arm at the woman, fingers out like raven's claws,stopping just short of the startled woman's eyes. "The Sla'ganth isbored and has just ripped off your face!"

"B-b-but—"

Without breaking her pose or gaze at the woman, Buffy called over hershoulder, "Xander?"

"Sla'ganthes have razor-sharp claws and obviously like to go for yourface. Or more accurately, the eyes. They're lightening quick at firstbut if you can dodge their first swing then they've pretty much run outof gas. Get behind them and they're easily confused when they lose sightof you."

"And?" prompted Buffy, now looking sideways at Travers.

"The al-mSlg!nth is relatively benign if you don't stare at its ears.They're touchy about that. Except the South American bunch. They're justplain touchy and will shred you for breathing the same air. But theyhave extremely sensitive hearing and screaming really loud will paralyzethem temporarily."

Buffy turned from the woman to grin at Travers. "Home team 1, visitors0." She looked around and spotted Philip. "Hmm." She marched up to himand craned her neck back to see he was a whole head taller than her."You, tough guy, how do you kill a Zan-Zan Beast?"

He stammered his answer. "W-Well, I think a, uh, knife with Celticrunes?"

"Cordy?"

"The easiest way is with an ash-wood staff into the upper ear-hole whilein its nest during a rejuvenation cycle, beginning at dusk," Cordeliaspoke up, making sure they could hear her at the front of the shop."Eyuch!" she gasped, suddenly turning to the others in wide-eyed horror."My life is so, so wrong I know stuff like that."

Xander reached over and gently patted her hand. "True, true. But we loveyou anyway." Willow grinned affectionately while Tara nodded vigorousagreement. Cordelia settled back but didn't seem much mollified by theshow of support.

Buffy spoke to Travers, holding up two fingers. "Two-love, yes? AndWillow and Tara? Two of the most powerful witches and Internet hackers.Three for the home team, Council zip." She arched her eyebrow. "Need Icontinue?"

Travers sighed, disappointed in his people (he would never admit hecouldn't have done better). "You've made your point." It had been anuncomfortably educational evening.

Buffy knew she was one of the longest lived, most successful slayersever. Not because she was stronger or faster or more skilled than anyprevious slayer. But because of this team she was a part of. She smiledat Giles and her friends. "Yeah, I'm thinking I'll keep my crew. Now,"she addressed all the watchers, "you may be very good at your jobs.We'll find out if you work with us. You can take your time thinkingabout that. But I want an answer from Quentin now, 'cause I think he'scapiching very well." She smirked. "Aren't you?"

Travers shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. "I've been accusedof many things," he looked back and forth between Buffy and Giles, "butdeafness is not one of them. I'm listening."

Xander whooped and put his fist out between himself and the others. "Onthree, Team Slayer!" He was joking, surprised when Tara put her handover his, followed by Willow and finally Cordelia in turn. Even Gilesquickly slid over to put his hand on top.

"One, two, three, Team Slayer!"

Giles grinned broadly, immediately trying to hide it and be thedignified watcher expected of him. 'Team Slayer' burst into cheers, butalso quickly stopped, embarrassed. Buffy grinned and gave a quickthumbs-up sign. She didn't smile at Giles, instead giving him aconfident nod before sitting down with Travers.

Xander said, "We could get us some shirts, with numbers—"

"While I re-enact Death of an Idiot, slow and painful."

"—but the plain-clothes look is very cool too," Xander finished, keepinga close eye on Cordelia.

At a look from Travers, Buffy shrugged. "A motley crew, but what's apoor slayer on the Hellmouth to do?" She smiled beatifically. "See? Nobiggie."

Travers coughed into his hand. "Yes, rather." He waved at Giles."Giles?"

"Quentin?"

"When we inventoried your shop we noticed a bottle of very finesingle-malt under the counter."

"Yes."

"I could use a glass. I think perhaps we could all use a—"

"Just a minute," Buffy interrupted. "Glory. I want to know. Now."

Travers looked non-plussed but complied. "Well, there's a bit to gothrough."

"What kind of demon am I fighting and how do I kill it?"

"Well that's the rub, isn't it? You see," Travers smiled grimly, "Gloryisn't a demon."

Buffy was silent. "Not a demon? Then what is she?"

"She's a god."

Xander heard a pin drop somewhere on the other side of town.

"Oh." She blinked and shook her head, as if to clear out cobwebs. "Agod?"

Travers nodded.

"Um, what exactly does that mean?"

Travers was speechless at first. It was so obvious! Then he thoughtabout it and realized the astuteness of her question. What exactly is a"god" as compared to merely an incredibly powerful being? He took amoment to arrange his thoughts. "Well, for one thing, she can't bekilled."

"Well, that sucks."

Travers grunted agreement. "Let's have that drink, shall we? I thinkwe're all going to need it." He circled his hand to include everyone.

Buffy nodded and Giles fetched the bottle and tumblers as Traverscontinued. "We have a few bits and pieces on her." He snapped hisfingers for the attache Nigel was holding and withdrew a folder. Heextracted some sheets, spreading them on the table. "These are initialreferences to her—more properly 'it'—going back severalthousands of years, when she suddenly appears on the scene after anenormous storm." Travers looked up with a certain mischievous smile."When I say enormous I mean devastation on a planet-wide scale. 'Andthe skies opened and oceans poured forth, sweeping asunder all the landthat could be stood upon'," he quoted. "Sound familiar?"

"Noah's flood?" asked Giles, chewing thoughtfully on the temple of hisglasses.

"Possibly." Travers looked down. "Since then, and I'm sure you'll findthis hard to believe, but more or less, despite her obvious malevolence,she has shown remarkable restraint in her destructive ways."

Willow grumbled loudly.

Travers glanced her way before returning attention to Buffy. "Yes, untilrecently. There seems to be a retinue of demons that surrounds her anddoes most of the actual work. She tends to be hands-off unless herstrength is needed." He flipped through the notes. "There are, or were,two main groups opposing her, only one of which bears noting. There isThe Brotherhood, which is the only name we have for them," he said,moving some sheets around.

Buffy quirked her head and Travers took that as a cue to continue. "Wedon't know why, and they have never attacked her directly, but sheconstantly sought them out, destroying them whenever she found them. Itseems she believes they have something she wants. Perhaps what she wantsfrom you is the same?" Travers looked between Buffy and Gilesexpectantly.

Buffy shrugged.

"In any case, all references to this Brotherhood stop about fifteen yearsago. To the best of our knowledge," Travers fingered the papers, "theysuddenly died out in eastern Europe. Likely due to Glory."

"You said there were two."

"Yes-s-s. The second group is hardly worth mentioning, as you've alreadyfound out first-hand. The Knights of Byzantium. They originally opposedher on general principles of monotheism. To them, our God, our HolyGhost, is the one and only. Anything else is blasphemy and thereforemust be evil. It happens they're right with regard to Glory. However,they've become an anachronism, failing to understand the multiverse ofdimensions, demon and human, and the significance of the complexities.More importantly their original tactics have become unsuccessful and theycompletely fail to adapt, unable to fight her with any effectiveness."

"An enemy of Glory is a friend of mine," Buffy said. But then squintedand scrunched her face. "As long as they stay out of my way," shecorrected herself.

"Be careful what you wish for," Travers answered gravely. "They arezealots, almost by definition not intelligent nor sufficiently capable.They are at best a very minor irritant to her and too often asignificant hindrance to us."

"Anything else?"

Given that Buffy seemed to be showing some real gumption in the face ofthis incredible news, Travers was encouraged. He flipped back and forthbetween his notes. "No. You may have all of this, of course. Now," hestood and beckoned the members of his delegation to him, "you have allwe know at this time. You have delineated our respective roles. We shalltake our leave and let you get on with your work." Without a backwardglance they filed out.

–––

After the Council's bombshell the Scoobies tried to jump right intoresearch mode and run down every new lead, with a focus on why Glorywanted the Key. Progress was made but the Council's information hadvirtually nothing on the Key itself. What did become readily clear,confirming earlier estimations, was they could not defeat Glory head-on.She might be their biggest, toughest opponent ever. As that simple truthsoaked in, their efforts soon flagged.

Seeing this, Giles wisely called a halt. Although danger loomed, it wasstill at some distance. They needed to decompress and relax beforestarting up again. Buffy also wanted time to tend to her mom. Theydecided to take a time-out and reconvene in a few days, fresh and readyto go.

That Saturday was a glorious California winter day, cobalt blue skiesblindingly crisp, with bracing on-shore breezes. At breakfast Cordeliaasked Xander if he would drive her an hour or so, outside of town.He matched his internal map of California to the directions she outlinedand realized it was deep in the Sierra Madre Mountains separatingSunnydale from the San Joaquin Valley.

"What's out there?"

Cordelia flashed an impish smile. "An old friend."

Xander's hopeful expression fell. "Chris?"

"No hints."

This did not sound like the kind of three-way he usually fantasizedabout. "Look, I don't need the car today. Maybe it'd be better if youjust take it." He noticed her expectant expression fall when he turnedto fish the keys out of his jacket. She was actually pouting when heturned back to give them to her.

"Cordy?" he asked quizzically.

"I want you to drive," she said, chewing her bottom lip.

Xander pursed his lips. What was she up to? This was not like her. Notonly her anxious attitude, but she was dressed as casually as he'd everseen: regular jeans, lightweight hiking boots, even a plaid shirt andlight vest over. Of course she had put it together so stylishly hehadn't realized at first how unusual her attire was.

"OK," he answered, "I'll bite." He was really curious what could makeher so antsy.

The roads got smaller and less paved with each mile as they climbed intothe mountain range. He could hardly believe Cordelia would ever becaught in such a rural out-of-the-way place, so inconvenient to anymall, but she was nearly bouncing when they turned onto a one-lanewell-kept gravel track, skirting the side of a tall hill.

The steep, narrow gap between the hills on either side suddenly openedinto a small, lush valley with a oak tree-lined creek on the farnorthern boundary. The near side of the valley was almost entirely occupiedby a small ranch. The main single-story rancher was nearest them, with abarn beyond. Left of the barn was a large open ring, to the right asmaller one under a roof with open sides. He noticed fence-like objectsscattered about both rings, seemingly in random locations. Visiblebeyond those structure were paddocks containing at least a dozen horsesof various types.

"Ah," Xander smiled when they passed under the "Hunter Creek Stables"sign. Of course. He should have known.

Cordelia dropped all pretenses. "Keanu was sold when we losteverything." She frowned, but her smile returned as big as ever. "Istarted to call around to find out where he might be and it turned outhe's been here the whole time. When I called she said a lease might beavailable and I should come and check him out."

"Lease? You can rent a horse? Like renting a car?"

"Um, sort of. I'd have to give up shopping for, well...probably till Idie." That seemed to bother her less than he ever could have imagined."But first I want to see if I've still got it." And, she didn't mention,if Keanu still remembered her. She didn't want to ride just any horse.It had to be her Keanu.

He circled the house as instructed and parked near the barn. Xander wasfascinated by this change in Cordelia. Racing ahead of him, she wasskipping along like a little girl, face plastered with huge grin. Hefollowed more slowly, looking around at everything in this beautifulsun-filled valley, letting Cordelia have the moment to herself. Wayahead he saw her pausing in front of each stall, reading off names. Shesuddenly stopped, looked in and slumped, obviously disappointed. Xanderguessed that must be Keanu's and he wasn't there.

They both looked up at a call from a handsome woman in her fortiescoming around the far end, leading a chestnut-colored horse, just oversixteen hands. Cordelia squealed. Hearing and then seeing her, the horselikewise nickered and bobbed its head up and down. She ran up to Keanuand gave him a big hug around his neck. He ducked his head, playfullynipping at her hair.

Xander watched as she spoke with the woman for a little while and thenshe hugged the woman, who gave her the halter rope and pointed over to arack of saddles. She smiled at one last comment from Cordelia, who gaveXander a last brilliant grin and wave, patted her on the back asCordelia led Keanu off to the cross-ties.

Xander walked over. "Hi, I'm Christine," the woman introduced herself.

"Oh. As in 'Chris'?"

"Yup."

He held out his hand. "Xander." They shook hands, hers as rough as hisown, perhaps more. "I'm Cordy's—"

"Boyfriend?" Christine eyed Xander critically.

Xander laughed nervously and shook his head. "That'd be a 'no'. We'rejust good friends. Today I'm also the chauffeur."

Christine squinted, looking doubtful. "Really?"

Xander was embarrassed at the intensity of Christine's interest in him,just as if she was Cordelia's real mother. "Just friends. Really."

"So says you, hey?"

He could swear there was a twinkle in her eye. His sensed the impendingneed for a diversion. "I can't tell you how excited she was thismorning. I don't think I've ever seen her like this."

"She's very special to us." Christine looked back over her shoulder towhere Cordelia was carefully picking Keanu's hooves. "And to him. It wasa sad day when she left and he was sold. Getting her call made my day.Telling her Keanu was still here made my year." Christina laughed alongwith Xander.

"You own him now?"

"Oh no." Christine shook her head. "My husband and I own and run HunterCreek." She swept her arm around to indicate the whole valley.

"Beautiful!" exclaimed Xander with heartfelt reverence as he lookedaround again.

"Thanks. No, another rider, Beth Sanders, has Keanu. But she and Bob,her husband, are off in Europe for six months. I'm sure they won'tobject to Cordelia giving him a bit of a workout. And they did say Ishould be on the look-out for a lessee." They strolled over to thecross-tie where Cordelia was hefting a saddle onto Keanu, adjusting andpositioning it, then cinching the girth. He could see, even as tall andstrong as Cordelia was, it was taking quite a bit of effort and hequickened his step to help. He was stopped and turned by Christine'shand on his elbow. She gave a him friendly head-shake. "She needs to dothis herself. Trust me."

Xander looked over his shoulder to see Cordelia had finished thecinching, and was now putting the bridle on. "Cordy mentioned that. Thelease thing, I mean. It sounded like it was still pretty expensive."Xander shook his head sadly, wondering.

"It is. Keanu is a great horse and Beth wants a lot. But," Christinesmiled slyly, "it won't cost anything for a tryout or two. Or even,say," she waved her hand back and forth in a languid figure-8, andwinked conspiratorially, "a dozen." She laughed again. They followed ata distance as Cordelia led the horse towards an outside ring. Somewhereshe had snagged a helmet and was putting it on one handed. "She doesn'thave quite the right gear now," Christine explained, "and she hasn'tridden in awhile, so no jumping today. But cantering, trotting poles,easy stuff."

Up ahead, just before entering the ring, he saw Cordelia's foot slip alittle in a small pile of dung. She easily recovered and continued as ifnothing had happened. Xander's jaw flopped. "Ewww! Doesn't she know whatshe just stepped in?"

Christine laughed in tolerant good nature. "Of course she does. Trustme, after all this time, for her, that's a tiptoe through the tulips."She understood there were two kinds of people in the world: those wholoved horses, and the sad, sometimes amusing remainder—like thisXander fellow. Christine had learned tolerance and forgiveness of thelatter, for they know not what they lack.

Though rarely seen, and only in private, but more often the longer theywere together in high school, Cordelia revealed a truly bright andengaging persona, shockingly at odds with the public ice-queen bitch.Few sniping words, relaxed, less worried over appearances and positionamong peers, warm and empathic, able to open up and talk of worries anddreams with Xander. He had liked all aspects of her, even if theever-present sharp sarcasm got a bit much at times, but that happyCordelia he loved. This place, these people, and Keanu, brought out thatbright happy Cordy he'd seen so little of after their breakup.

He watched, smiling, as she easily mounted the horse and settled intothe saddle. She took a few moments making final adjustments to thestirrups and then swung Keanu around into a slow easy walk around theperimeter.

They watched together for a few minutes before Christine turned toleave. She paused. "Can I get you something to drink? A lemonade? Or abeer?"

Xander shaded his eyes as he looked toward the sun. Although still earlyin the day it was much warmer here than near the coast. "Lemonade wouldbe great, thanks."

"A pitcher of our icy best in a jiffy! Go grab a seat over there,"Christine said, pointing to an open canopy shading some chairs, "andkeep an eye on our Cordelia. See she doesn't get hurt." Xander absentlynodded his head, causing Christine to laugh again as she walked back tothe main house.

Cordelia rode for nearly an hour, changing speeds and direction atrandom, repeating exercises he didn't understand. Tired, hot and sweaty,but grinning ear-to-ear, she led Keanu (also hot and sweaty) out of thering and back to the barn. With hands that remembered, she quicklyuntacked him, picked his hooves again, and bathed him. After leadingKeanu back to his stall she dug an apple out of her purse and gave it tohim. He munched on it happily.

"I'd forgotten how good that is," contently sighed Cordelia as she satin the chair next to Xander, across from Christine, flopping down with awoof. "I never thought I'd say this, but there are better things thanshopping." She flicked her fingers toward the stalls and arena.

"Welcome back to civilization, girl!" cheered Christine. Xander listenedas they chatted away about one equine topic or another. But eventuallyit was time to head back to Sunnydale.

Cordelia remained deeply quiet during the ride back. Xander could tellshe was still thinking about Keanu. "Y'have a nice day?" he asked.

"The best!" she mumbled before squirming her shoulders and fallingasleep.

–––

It was time to reset and go over everything they knew from the top.

In the Summers' living room they were all nearly in the same arrangementas after Giles' return from England. Only a few days ago, itseemed like years. This time Giles was at the dining-room table, books,papers and notes spread all over. He was keeping only half an ear onwhat they were jabbering about.

Xander was shaking his head in awed wonder. "An actualmightier-than-thou, rain-of-frogs, big-'Guh' God. You even have to usewords like 'thou' and 'mightier'!" It was sinking in all over again andit wasn't sounding any better the second time.

Willow tried to be optimistic. "Well, you know what they say, the biggerthey are—"

"The harder they smite you," finished Cordelia. She ignored everyone'slooks as she took another bite of her cheese and cracker.

"She's right. I've thrown everything I've got at her and it just bouncesoff."

"Then we find something heavier to throw?" asked Xander.

Buffy shifted. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Have you got any God-sized anvils out back? We could hoist it wa-a-a-ayup and then drop it on her, like what happens to that coyote." Taraseemed very enthusiastic about the idea.

"Tara, dear, you have to stop watching Road-Runner cartoons withXander," complained Willow. "And it's not the Road-Runner's fault WileE. Coyote can't figure out the stuff he gets from ACME. Besides, healways bounces back in the next show anyways."

Buffy shouted over her shoulder at Giles. "Giles! Deal with these kids,they're driving me crazy!"

Giles head snapped up from the passage he was translating. "What? Oh.What was that?"

Buffy frowned. "Glory. Little me. Something heavier to throw at than?"

"Ah, right, yes." Giles scribbled one more note. He dropped his penciland sat back, raising steepled fingers against his chin while organizinghis thoughts. "From the Council's information, Glory and threecompatriots ruled one of the more, hmm, unpleasant demon dimensions. Tomaintain such status there, for any length of time, must imply untoldabilities."

"More than one?" asked Tara.

"What?"

"More than one dimension? I mean, besides this?" she clarified,spreading her arms to include the world around them.

"Oh. Ah, yes." Giles frowned. "Perhaps 'dimension' is poor terminology.'Universes' might be better. Or perhaps 'realities'. There is evidencethousands, perhaps millions, of universes exist other than our own. Manyare well isolated from us, others impinge on the edges of ours. Forreasons obvious and not so obvious the inhabitants of some try to forceopenings and cross over into another."

"Einstein-Rosen bridges?" asked Willow.

"Perhaps," agreed Giles, "or close enough at any rate."

"And Glory burrowed like a worm into our little rotten apple universe?Lucky us," sourly commented Buffy. "But why this apple? Sheobviously doesn't like it here, why couldn't she have found another?"

"As I said, the reasons are not always obvious. She may not have chosenthis universe, but rather forced to be here. Perhaps a falling out amongpeers?" He turned and fingered through some papers on the table."There's nothing to indicate here, but anything is possible."

Buffy got up and paced, chin in her hand, "OK, so Glory's from an else.Maybe this else is a one where she's not a god?"

Giles nodded. "Possible."

"But here she's a god and can't be killed." Buffy looked up, "What aboutother godly powers? Bolts of lightning, big hammers, hellfire,omniscience? Aside from being really, really strong, her main deal seemsto be..." Buffy shrugged, "phenomenal stupidity?"

Giles poured tea for himself. "Godhood can mean many things, the onlycommon threads being immortality and vast, but not necessarilyunlimited, power. How that power is manifested or employed...?" Gilesshrugged again. "Her true form likely isn't humanoid. Perhaps in humanform, being in this universe, with different dimensions and fundamentalphysical constants, severely limits her. For lack of a better humanconcept, one likely not applicable to her, rationality is not herstrong suit, not as we perceive it. By our standards she's insane."Giles looked less and less happy as he went on. "From what I'vegathered so far, she's only able to keep her mind intact by, uh,extracting human energy from us. F-from our brains, more specifically."

"Sh-she's a brain-sucker?" Willow and Tara exchanged very worried looks.

Giles pulled a slender volume from the pile. He took a sip of tea to wethis throat. "Some of the leads Travers provided are better than others.Here is a general thesis on mental energy and how it literally holds thehuman personality together and powers our rational thinking." He openedto a marked page and read. "Some spirits are a 'sink' of this energythat binds a human mind into a cohesive whole. Unlike humans, they mustabsorb those energies from others. Once drained, all that's left of thesource is—"

"Crazy people?"

"It would explain the noticeable increase in the ranks of the mentallyunstable in Sunnydale. She's feeding."

The others looked ill.

"Let's get back on point." Buffy pounded her fist into her other hand."How does that help us? If I can't defeat Glory head-on, if she can't bekilled, then we'll need something indirect."

Giles nodded. "Agreed. We can't kill her, but perhaps we can deflecther, keep her from her goal, including preventing her from such feedingon human mental energy. That might lead to a sort of ultimateself-destruction. Or at least she may be forced into exposing a weaknessor even leaving our, uh, little apple." Giles' smile was thin.

"Her big bugaboo seems to be the Key. Dawn. Maybe I should take her andjust run?"

Giles shook his head. "No, absolutely not! For whatever reason, shedoesn't know Dawn is the Key, but believes you do. They must be watchingyou. Running would be a sure sign. No, I feel the best thing is for allof us," he looked at each of them to drive the point home, "to continuebehaving as we are, that there is absolutely nothing special about Dawn.Let's not give them any cause to suspect her. In the meanwhile wecontinue to deflect and divert."

"Eventually we're going to have to figure out this Key business,"rumbled Xander. "Why does she want it? If she had it, what would she doto Dawn?"

Tara tapped her knee. "The name is suggestive. Keys unlock things, openthings. A door? A way from one place to another? Could an Einstein,um..."

"Rosen," supplied Willow.

"Yeah. Can an Einstein-Rosen bridge be something to unlock?"

"Or there's a door to get to the bridge?" speculated Cordelia.

"Perhaps," said Giles. "We use words like 'bridge', 'wormhole', 'door','lock' and 'key' because those metaphors are the easiest way to speak ofconcepts that are quite indescribable except in the most intricate andarcane ways. But they cannot be wholly accurate. We must be very carefulnot to take them too literally."

They continued discussing various topics and picked up the threads oftheir research, hoping to find anything that could help.

–––

They were dealing with a huge jigsaw puzzle of historical evidence andclues, demonic lore, prophecies, cosmological concepts, tidbits ofknowledge and outright guesses, as they tried to figure out what wasgoing on. Giles and the others sifted through all the new informationfrom the Council, comparing it with their own and gradually unearthingnew evidence, clues and leads on Glory. The puzzle pieces were chiviedabout to see what fit together or what became a new lead. Irrelevancieswere tossed out, some to be grabbed back when they suddenly made senseagain. Progress was painfully slow and frustrating, the big picture ofthe Key, Glory, what she intended and how to stop her still mostly ablur.

Buffy insisted defense against Glory be their absolute focus, takingprecedence over defense against vampires. She explained she was morethan capable of dealing with the few vampires and demons still activethese days. Therefore Buffy convinced Willow and Tara to abandon theirwork on magic sunshine bombs.

Tara seemed relieved to have Willow diverted from that exploration ofraw magical energy. She had been concerned Willow was getting tooexcited by the possibilities, too interested in expanding her powerrather than first understanding the purpose. Magic could, when employedwisely, thoughtfully and with care, be used for great good. There shouldbe no thought for one's own gain, a harsh lesson Tara had learnedso very recently and taken to heart. She was hesitant to use the word'reckless' with regard to her lover, but nonetheless was glad Buffy wasdefining a specific, helpful purpose.

On the other hand, powerful magic would almost certainly be part of anydefense against Glory. Though Glory was immensely strong, magic was too,and physics was physics. Glory's power could not be unlimited. If magiccould help then they very likely needed everything Willow could give.This left Tara in a bit of a quandary.

Xander and Cordelia started on new Council leads about the Dagon Sphereand Glory. While cross-referencing an early account of an encounterbetween Glory and the monks, they discovered their formal name: TheBrotherhood of Dagon. Clearly there was a relationship. Unfortunatelythe name was the only link between the monks and the sphere they couldfind so far.

As for the sphere itself (sitting under the cash register) both it andGlory had been physically proximate for some time now, as close as a fewfeet when Glory made her purchases (no "warding" going on there) to nomore than a few miles if Glory stayed within the Sunnydale boundaries.Yet she seemed none the worse for wear. They found no clues on how itsstated purpose of "warding off evil" applied to her.

Xander then joined Tara, looking specifically into the Key'srelationship to Dawn, what had been achieved with her, how and why? Notonly was there Dawn's current physical human embodiment but also herpast as reflected in everyone's memories. It was a perfect and completehistory, both internal to Dawn herself and external, beginning with herimmediate family, on to a next level of extended family and closefriends, then a secondary level of acquaintances, and finally totertiary touch-points in perhaps thousands of lives and innumerablephysical records and documentation.

Xander and Tara re-interviewed the others, checking the consistency andcontinuity of recollections. Everything tallied on every point. Eventhat people remembered the same event in different ways lent credence,as perfectly identical stories would be a sure sign of artifice. To thebest of their ability to discern, everything, absolutely everythingwas consistent, nothing missed.

Despite Xander's prior stated feelings on the matter they rehashed thefirst obvious theory based on the dying monk's claims: The Brotherhoodhad created Dawn as a vessel to contain and disguise the Key. Tocomplete the disguise, Xander and Tara realized The Brotherhood musthave scripted an entire biography, located everyone and everything withthe slightest interaction, then reached out to adjust all according tothe script, memories touched, artifacts created such as transcripts,photographs, and even the cheesy gifts she had made for her familyduring kindergarten. The number of interactions was mind boggling. Whenasked, Willow considered the simple mathematical aspect and mentioned anumber she said was on par with the number of particles in the universe.

If that theory were true then in effect The Brotherhood had shreddedapart the tightly woven threads of an original historical tapestry toforcefully weave in the threads of Dawn's own history, with nary atangle or gap. Tara and Xander both found it difficult to believe theachieved perfection. Exhausted, Tara smiled tiredly. "Is she a figmentof our imagination?"

"Or we're a figment of hers," countered Xander.

"Maybe we're all figments of each other's? Everything just hangstogether in the middle of nothing." She swirled her hand above her headto indicate all the nothingness. She rubbed her eyes and slumped back inher chair.

Xander was tired too, tossing down a pen he'd been chewing on. "Too manyfigs! How does Newton get all the cookies into one nice neat Dawnpackage?" Unable to maintain focus, a strange idea slithered into hismind, one that might easily provide the evident consistency and perfectdisguise. It started with a simple yet impossible premise, common in thecomics and science-fiction he often read: time travel.

Suppose, he wondered, the monks traveled back in time with the Key,perhaps even using the Key to enable such a trip, and imposed its energypattern on something? Indeed, that the very imposition of the Key'senergy changed an event that never occurred in the previous time-lineinto something that did. And just suppose that event was Dawn's humanconception, that a sperm zigged instead of zagged? Could that have theeffect of creating a whole new time-line, the one they were living innow with Dawn?

Aside from the time-travel it would only rely on halfway decent timing(plus a certain amount of voyeurism) by the monks. Xander got theshivering squigs at the momentary thought of what parents obviously doto become parents and Tara looked at him curiously. But he got past itand ran with the idea. Could using the Key have directly caused achild's conception? Could the Key's energy, it's very essence, becomeintegrated in the child it caused to be created? Xander pulled on hislower lip.

Maybe, just maybe.

He had read and watched enough to think he know a fair bit about theconundrums and paradoxes associated with time-travel. But if the premisecould be accepted, the beauty of the idea, he realized, was what themonks would need to do next: absolutely nothing! Everything would sortit*elf out as the tapestry of history was weaved anew. All events wouldunfold naturally, memories created perfectly and consistently becausethey all really did happen. Everything is genuine and real because Dawnis genuine and real. The only reality that ever existed is this one withDawn, both as human and Key.

Xander found it compelling. He broached the idea to Tara, who liked ittoo. They got Giles' attention. He came over, followed by the others.Xander repeated his idea, Giles listening quietly, nodding occasionally,asking for clarification on a point or two.

"It certainly explains a lot," he agreed.

Willow objected. "But the monk said Dawn was 'made human' and given tothe slayer using the energy of the Key itself. And that they created thememories. I remember. He said that."

"A good point, Willow." Giles closed his eyes and pinched the bridge ofhis nose, concentrating. After a few moments he spoke. "No matter how itwas done, it's an audacious, stunning achievement. Braggadocio, perhaps?Or he may have been lying or deliberately mis-leading? Also don't forgethe was near death, perhaps he was delirious and speaking nonsense?

"And recall what I said earlier about terminology. He might have beenspeaking metaphorically. What could be more 'made human' than born ahuman child?" He shook his head. "It would appear we have two viablemodels for Dawn, both this creation model of Xander's, and—for lackof a better term—an insertion model, where anything and everythingrelated to Dawn is inserted into the current time-line when Dawn wasmolded from The Key."

In the end they still had no ability to determine it one way or theother. But Xander and Buffy shared a knowing nod and look. Too manythings felt right. Buffy wrapped her arms around herself, comforted inthe certainty Dawn is and always had been her sister. OK, a sister withsome extra green-ish "oomph". But Buffy, being the slayer, knew she hadno argument against another human with extra power on top.

It was late in the day and time for each to go their separate ways. Taraand Willow needed to study for an exam. Buffy wanted to check on her momagain before patrolling. Cordelia had business paperwork to do, andXander just wanted to go home and flop before starting early againtomorrow.

Giles talked to each and gathered all their notes together, placing themin a locking drawer newly installed under the cash register. Tomorrowhe would begin to collate and cross-index them, verify original sourcematerial, and summarize the progress so they could plan their nextsteps.

They picked up the threads of their investigations the next morning.

Tara and Willow discovered independent references to a story,contemporary with that in the Council's notes, of Glory's arrival. Afterpiecing together numerous fragments and translations, the narrative theyeventually developed was different than Travers and Giles' speculationregarding the flood story.

Herders were watching over their flocks one night when the sheep brokeinto a confused and maddened rush down the hill. Tara softly read aloudquotes: "night rendered unto day", "tearing of the sky", and "a soundthat laid waste to all growing things". Giles read over their story andcompared it to the Council's flood information.

He sat back while he thought, holding the council's notes. "Hmm. Perhapsthese are both true. Yours describes the very moment of Glory's arrival,while this," he waved the papers in his hand, "might describe downstreameffects soon after?"

Tara looked between Giles and Willow. "Whether or not magic was involvedhere, there had to be a lot of energy in her arrival. The energy mustcome from somewhere."

"When in doubt, stick to the fundamentals," reminded Giles.

"Physics, metaphysics, hmm..." recited Willow, sitting up and staringat the ceiling. She shook her head violently. "The information isincomplete." She slumped. "Or it's here somewhere," Willow said,pointing at all the piles on the tables and at the shelves of books andsheaves of scrolls around them, "and we can't connect the dots."

"Patience, have patience," Giles counseled. He set down his tea andlooked around. It had been a slow day, with very few customers. In factat the moment there were none. "And let's take a break."

"Lunch at Slap-Happy's!" exclaimed Xander, referring to a new joint intown he and his construction crew decided had the best wings in southernCalifornia. Their menu was large and very likely all of them could findsomething to suit their tastes.

They folded their notes into binders and closed the books. Since nocustomer was present, and believing things would be secure enough if hemerely locked the door, Giles put up the "Out to lunch" sign in thewindow, and double-locked the door, forgetting today was Wednesday, ahalf-day of school for Dawn.

–––

Dawn often liked to do homework at the Magic Box after school. As muchas she loved her mom, mom could be really pesky about getting thehomework done but not so good with actual follow through of helping. Itwas more fun around the gang too, being easy to dodge and ignore Buffyor Giles' pleas to stay focused. It was harder, on the other hand, tobrush off Cordelia. But she could often enlist Cordelia, or Giles, orTara and Willow if they were around between classes, for help.

On this particular half-day Dawn decided to hang at the Magic Box. Shegrumbled in disappointment when she saw the "Out to lunch" sign in thefront window and then, after peering through the glass, confirming theshop was empty. She'd missed everyone. They were probably off doingsomething far more exciting than writing a world studies paper on 18thcentury Dutch colonialism. She sighed, reached into her backpack and dugout a spare key.

The large table she usually worked at was piled high with stuff, boxesshut, books closed. Hefting her backpack off her shoulder Dawn set itdown heavily and stared at the table. She had long been aware ofhush-hush research going on, stuff they weren't talking about in frontof her. Sometimes she heard abrupt endings of whispered conversations asshe entered a room, or a quick and awkward change of subject, or thingshastily moved out of sight.

Dawn looked around warily and checked her watch. She gazed down at thethick folders on top of some books, biting her lower lip. If shebelieved the sign, they wouldn't be back for at least another thirtyminutes. She furtively looked back at the door once more. Piquedcuriosity and paranoia pegged to eleven got the better of caution.She reached out and grabbed the top folders and started scanning throughthe first one as she slowly walked towards the back.

She recognized Giles' fussy neat print on the first sheaf of pages. Bychance it happened to be the file where he kept the log and summary ofthe gang's research. While still holding onto the first folder, sheflipped it over and opened others, seeing Xander's unreadable scrawl,Cordelia's open flowing script, Tara's writing nearly like Giles butwith more flourish. She put the others aside and kept Giles' notes. Dawnquickly read past references to "Aurora", with citations to synonyms ofbeginnings. There were more references to her friends' lives, especiallytheir interactions with herself. Fond memories floated through her mind.

She frowned. Something about the singular focus of Giles' notes buggedher. She read more quickly, flipping page after page and started overagain from the beginning. She repeated the same with Tara's andCordelia's notes.

Her gut knotted up. They were investigating her!

"Brotherhood of Dagon" Dawn mumbled, reading again from Giles notes,"blah blah blah...protectors of the Key." Huh. "They possessed theability to transform energy, bend reality." Dawn rolled her eyes andbobbed her head. Blah, blah, blah, and more blah. Geez, he can bemore long-winded in print than speaking! she thought. "We speculatethey may have had the capability to travel temporally." Temporally? Dawnfrowned. Was that the same thing as temporarily? She found a dictionaryand looked it up; it had to do with 'time' and realized Giles wastalking about time-travel. "And of course he couldn't just say'time-travel', could he?" she snorted. She loved Giles but he could beso wonderfully pompous. She kept going.

She re-read several passages with greater care, rapidly turning pageswith trembling fingers. With horror Dawn read speculations about herorigins, but not about when and where she was born—"Orange CoastMemorial, 1987, thank you very much!" she loudly sniffed—but assomething different. "The Council suggests they were interrupted. Therewere no witnesses, but informed speculation places the responsibility onGlorificus." Glorificus? Glory? Dawn stared into the distance as shewondered. "They obviously accomplished the task. Yet they had to becertain the slayer would protect it with her life. They sent the Key toher in human form as her sister."

"Sister?" Dawn husked. Sister of the slayer? But, but..."Hey, that's me!But..." She scrambled back through the notes. All this stuff about "TheKey" and 'made human'. They were talking about her like she was noteven a person but as a thing foisted upon them. They didn't think shewas real, not even her own sister!

The knot in Dawn's tummy became spiders trying to crawl their way up herthroat.

The halted conversations, the way Giles was so careful about puttingcertain things away, Willow's more than unusual awkwardness, it allbegan to make sense. Recalling more carefully, it seemed to start aroundthe time of Buffy's crazy bitch-rants a few months back, about her notbeing real. All shortly before the arrival of the latest big bad (andbadly dressed) Glory. Buffy's behavior, and her reactions to Glory, nowhad a new context.

So she was a "Key"? Not really human but created by, by, a bunch ofreclusive monks? Despite a compulsion to throw the papers as far as shecould, she read on. "All clues indicate the Key is energy blah blah blahvibrating at a dimensional frequency beyond blah blah blah, perceivableto humans only in the green wavelengths of the spectrum." She got to amore interesting part. "Only those outside reality can see the Key'strue nature." She shook her head in frustration. Outside reality? What'sthat mean?

Another section of notes, both Giles and Xander's, seemed to be arecorded argument on how, or even if, they could prove she was orwasn't real. Giles' general conclusion was they couldn't and that theyshould err on the side of caution, whatever that meant.

She felt real. But what if they were right? She ran her hands down hersides. She pinched herself. Ouch! But, but, maybe this is how greenenergy was supposed to feel? she asked herself. If she's not realdid these people even care about her? Tears began to run down her face.Do Xander or Cordy or Giles or Buffy or, or does even mom care aboutme? Love me?

The horrible answer, she realized, might be 'no'.

She couldn't face these them, the strangers she thought she knew sowell. Shaking away tears, Dawn slapped the folder down, not caring thecontents scattered over the table and onto the floor, grabbed up herschoolwork and ran out.

–––

Eyes closed, Drusilla weaved with slow and fluid movements. "Doors, Isee. Doors for thee and all to see." She stopped and co*cked her head,sharp features drawn together in concentration. "Only one leads whereyou want to be. How to get through? That is key." Drusilla resumed herlanguid dance about the room.

Glory was letting their captive have a walk, but the disgusting vampirewouldn't shut up, constantly reminding her she was stuck in this thick,plodding existence, with barely any control or power to do freely as shewilled. This physical jail clung to her like a fur of leeches, gnawingand sucking on her sanity. "Listen, little tick, the only reason Ihaven't popped you is you might be useful." Glory flicked her hand andher followers jumped to slap Drusilla back into heavy shackles. Glorycircled in front of the restrained vampire and grabbed her chin roughly,causing Drusilla to whimper.

As strong as Drusilla was, this thing in front of her that looked humanyet wasn't, was too powerful to resist.

"What I want is—and this is simple—is: Where." Drusilla'shead was yanked left.

"Is." Now to the right.

"My." Left again.

"Wait for it..." Now straight, to look directly upon Glory.

"Key?"

Drusilla's eyes rolled. "Key? I see no Key."

"I'll kill you a thousand times over, sweetie." Glory patted thevampire's cold cheek. "I'll make it last a long, long time. I'm sure wecan rustle up some holy water." She shouted at the nearest minion,"Can't we Dweezer?!" Glory had been around long enough to know exactlyhow to hurt vampires. She always knew everything about hurting others.It has always been the easiest, fastest, therefore best way to get whatshe wanted.

"Oh yes, most Brilliant."

"Holy-water Jacuzzi, now! Get the dirt off this thing, it's making mesneeze. And if that doesn't work..." Glory ran her hands up and downDrusilla's body. To her, human flesh was the same no matter what form.She placed her hands on either side of Drusilla's head, clamping down.Her hands began to shimmer as she worked them through Drusilla's skull.

Drusilla's moans turned to agony.

"Don't be scared of letting someone in. Shh, shh, it's OK. I know howdifficult the first time is." Glory stood closer, hot breath on thevampire's cheek, her voice soft and smooth as glass. "Relax. I just wanta taste." Her hands disappeared in rays of light beaming out fromDrusilla's eyes, ears, nose and mouth. "Ewww, blech, that'sdisgusting!" Glory yanked her hands away, whipping them back and forthto rid herself of the clinging excrement and offal.

Drusilla slumped against her supports, unconscious.

"Gimme some bleach." Glory called, "And get me something real to eat,now!" Unable to feed off the insane vampire Glory fell back against thewall, trusting her minions to bring something soon.

They snatched a postal worker returning home and their Glorificus waswell again.

–––

"Oh Sweet Buffalo Bill, I'm gonna bust some buttons," groaned Xander,patting his slightly distended tummy.

The entire walk back from Slap-Happy's a disturbed Giles kept shakinghis head in disbelief at the amount of wings Xander could consume. "Icannot fathom it. I simply cannot. I don't think I've ever seen anythingso stunningly gross s-s-since we fought the Hacka demon last year, theone—"

"Who sneezed orange and black goo all over you?" asked Buffy, grinning.

"'Pus', Buffy," indignantly corrected Giles, wagging his finger at her."The technically correct term is 'pus'."

"There, there," Willow said soothingly as she patted Giles' back andtried to console him.

Buffy was less sympathetic. "When we say Xander can out-eat a pig, nexttime you'll believe us." But even she shuddered.

Cordelia, having lived with Xander for several months, had been preparedwith an excuse to leave the table well before it became a scene from anMonty Python movie.

A pale-looking Xander suddenly belched a deep hollow note and smiled earto ear. "Ah, I feel so much better now—Oww! Cordy?!"

"Manners! Look it up real soon or you're sleeping with the dogstonight."

Xander bowed his apology. His verbal reply was less apologetic. "Sir,yes sir, Ma'am!"

They arrived at the shop and Giles moved up to unlock the door. Taranoticed first. "Uh, someone's moved my stuff."

"Did they sit on your chair and eat all your porridge?" asked Xander,last in line.

Tara held up a small stuffed penguin that had fallen from Dawn'sbackpack.

"Dawn?" Buffy rushed up and grabbed the little token from Tara. "Giles,she knows!"

An unhappy Giles nodded his agreement. "Yes. Unfortunately I think theproverbial cat is out of the bag."

"What's she going to think?"

"Just as important, what's she going to do?" asked Xander soberly.

"Let's get to your house now," advised Willow. "The sooner we tell herthe truth the better."

Cordelia, Xander and Giles began to gather up and reassemble thescattered notes after the others had left. Xander was pensive as heworked.

"Giles, maybe this wasn't the best place to keep all this stuff,y'think?"

Giles stood up straighter, surprised by Xander's question. "What? Whynot? Where else would be safer?"

Xander explained. "Glory knows of this shop, right? That it's our 'HQ'.If she hasn't yet, she'll eventually figure out we're close on her trailand this would be a place to attack. And maybe steal stuff." He swepthis arm to indicate their research materials. "As for where, well, whynot our place?"

Cordelia made a noise, expression doubtful.

"We've got room. And, well, we're the least super-powered of the gangand so we probably get the least attention." He noticed Cordelia aboutto react. "Well, we are! I've got nothing, and yours is unpredictable.You haven't had a vision in weeks."

"I'm having one right now. You and a garbage compacter are having a veryclose encounter."

Giles had been carefully listening to Xander. "No, no, Cordelia, he hasa point."

Xander grinned. "I do? Yeah?!"

"Yes. Let me propose this. All of this," he pointed to the same thingsXander just had, "needs to remain here. We never know which resource orbook or whatnot we'll need, and we can hardly move the whole shop toyour place." Giles smiled. "Nor can I afford to close up. So—"

"But—"

Giles' raised hand stopped Xander's protest. "I propose we make copiesof our logs and notes, some crucial references, and you keep the copies.We'll do a large bit now and in a few days we should be caught up."

Both Cordelia and Xander agreed. In a short half-hour they hadaccumulated a fair number of notebooks of copied info. Xander andCordelia left with them in a box to return to their apartment.

–––

Dawn stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door in her mom's face.

Any half-baked plan she had for a next move evaporated as if it neverexisted and she slumped against the door, breathing deeply, then floppedflat out on her bed. Everybody had been lying to her! They were stilllying to her. Even mom. She glanced up at the tentative knocks on thedoor and her mom's voice but ignored them.

Dawn's thoughts churned, unable to focus on what she wanted now. Mostlyshe just felt drained and empty. If she wasn't real, then what's thepoint of it all? She grabbed her diary from the bedside table, the oneshe had been filling in since moving to Sunnydale, flipped to thebeginning and read through the first entries. She vividly remembered theevents, the thoughts, feelings and emotions and writing about them. Butwas it real? Was yesterday real?

She had to know! She wanted answers, real answers, not just her ownguesses. She needed to talk to someone who wouldn't lie. She needed themost honest, straightforward person she knew and demand an explanation.Cordy might keep secrets but she knew if asked straight out Cordywouldn't hide anything. Dawn jumped out of the bed, throwing the diaryto the floor, and snuck out of the house. Dawn would find her at theapartment she shared with Xander and wait.

–––

Buffy, Willow and Tara arrived at Buffy's house. They and Joyce soondiscovered Dawn was gone, probably only missing her by mere minutes.Worried about Dawn, Joyce followed the young women into the living room,pestering them with question after question, not quitehysterical...yet. When Willow gave Buffy a worried look, Buffyreplied it would be OK for them to leave.

Buffy closed the door behind them, sagged back against the door andsighed. After a few seconds she tiredly opened her eyes, straightened upto go sit next to her mom. On one hand Giles would be better atexplaining, but on the other hand she was glad it was just her and mom.Her mom took it far better than Buffy expected.

Joyce, her hands clasped tightly together, chewed on her lip and staredat the floor, trying to work through some of the implications. "Do theothers know?" she asked, glancing up.

Buffy nodded.

"How are they taking it?"

"Took it," Buffy corrected. "We've all known. For a while now." To hermom's look she continued. "We ran into this guy, and he told us." Buffyhurriedly explained, simplifying details. "He said things like'Delivered to the slayer, for protection' and 'she's the Key madehuman'. Like she was a made thing." Buffy paused glumly.

Joyce was aghast. "Buffy, that's shameful! She, she's... my baby Dawn.Your sister! You're so wrapped up in your upside-down world of demonsand evil you can't tell when something's as plain as the nose on yourface. To think you let some stranger convince you Dawn is nothing? Howcould you?! I don't care who told you that."

Buffy waved her hands. "Mom, stop. Listen to me. Listen! You're right,you're right." When Joyce stopped scolding her, Buffy tried to explain,staring at her hands in her lap. "When I first heard what he said, I wassure Dawn wasn't real. I thought maybe that...was why you were gettingsick." She gave a guilty shrug. "But then I wasn't sure. When we settleddown, Giles and the guys, and we all come around to the same thing.Xander actually did most of the convincing. He accepted her right away.It didn't matter to him. He knew what he knew and that was that." Buffysmiled at the memory of Xander trying to explain himself. "He's right.Dawn's real. My real, actually serious pain in the ass, steal all mybest clothes, sister. I love her no different than before."

"Well, good," Joyce harrumphed.

"But," warned Buffy, "even though we fully accept that, we need to knowabout this Key stuff. Every detail, no matter how crazy. Not becauseshe's the Key but because she is real. There are others out there whothink she's something else, something they can just take and use. Weneed to know everything we can so we can protect her."

–––

Dawn thanked several deities, even demon ones, that her emotionaljoy-ride had hit a level and even keel when she arrived at Cordy's door.Xander and Cordy's door, she reminded herself. She wasn't certain Cordywould be in this early in the afternoon but it didn't matter, she'd waitall day if necessary. She knocked and was gratified to hear muffledvoices. Soon there was the thuds of someone walking. She swiped her eyesone last time before the door opened.

Who could it be? Xander wondered. He had no idea when he cracked openthe door. But...

"D-D-Dawn?"

...was both last person he expected and the one who could not have picked aworse moment to show up at their door. He called over his shoulder. "HeyCordy, you wouldn't believe who's here. It's Dawn! Of all people. At ourdoor of all places. Right now. Here!" Behind his back he wavedfrantically at Cordelia to hide the notes. "Our very own fluffy Dawnie!"He kept waving at Cordelia.

Dawn wondered about this particular weirdness of Xander, it wasn't likehis normal goofball weirdness. She suspected the reasons. She tried topeer past Xander. "Uh, Xander, are you...?"

Now, seeing Cordelia disappear with the notebooks, Xander stepped backand flung open the door, arms wide, ready to hug her (and give Cordeliaanother second or two). "Going to let you in? Of course, Dawn, please.Come in to our abode of humble." He spun her about (giving Cordelia yetanother second) before letting her down.

Cordelia's timing was perfect. They heard the bathroom faucet andmoments later she appeared, her greeting much more proper and gentle."What brings you here?" she asked, taking Dawn by the hand and leadingher into the living room.

Xander started to follow then stopped in his tracks. "Uh, is this 'girl'talk or something? Should I make like Houdini?"

Dawn turned around. "No." Xander seemed relieved and followed the girlsas Dawn continued. "It's people stuff. I want to talk to both of you."

Uh oh, thought Xander. "And somehow I'm thinking this could be evenworse," he mumbled.

"Shut up, Xander," scolded Cordelia. "Be a good host and get ussomething to nibble on and something to drink. Dawn?" she prompted.

Dawn thought for a second and smiled wickedly. "Uh, a beer?" Xander'ssuddenly stern, disapproving glare stopped her cold. "Oh all right, teathen."

Xander's expression lit up. "Tea. Earl Grey. Hot."

"Make it so."

Dawn gawked at Cordelia's use of the catch-phrase, wagging her fingerat them. "Y-you guys! Maybe you've been together too long."

Cordelia sighed and grimaced. "You don't know the half of it." Shepointed to the Star Trek NG box-set by the television. "It's, um,strangely compelling."

"You have been assimilated!" gleefully declared Xander from by thestove.

Cordelia's head dropped glumly into her hand, shaking side to side indefeat. "Just do it."

They got themselves comfortable on the sofa while Xander took a minuteto prepare the tea, setting water to boil. He came back into the livingroom and sat across from them. Dawn began with a directness thatsurprised even Cordelia. "What am I?" Her voice had started strongly,but along with the outpouring of words came the fragile, tremulousemotions and tears. "Am I even real? A-am I a-a-anything?" She begancrying. "Or just green slush?"

"Dawn! Wha-uh? Why? Wha-" Xander looked helplessly at Cordelia.

"Dawn, why do you ask something like that?" Cordelia was better thanXander at hiding her own roiling emotions. She wanted to reach out andgather up the younger girl but knew a calm, firm confidence would workbest to help pull Dawn out of her despair.

"I saw them. Today." Dawn hiccuped. "I read it all." She hadn't readeverything, but that was splitting hairs.

Breathing deeply, Cordelia sat back and exchanged a look with Xander.They silently agreed not to put up any lie, pretense or excuse. Xandertook Dawn's hands. "Dawn, you first need to understand there's a lot wedon't know. What you read, all that stuff? Half or more is guesses. Nomatter what we think we know, we also need to know what the enemythinks. The thing you need to know is you are real and we're notgoing to let you get hurt."

Cordelia continued. "But you know the drill. We have to checkeverything, every crazy idea." Cordelia shifted. "This is something withGlory. She's got this hang-up about a 'Key'. Right or wrong, if she everthought that has anything to do with you, we need to know."

"We know the real you, Dawn. That starts with Buffy and goes for therest of us."

"But I read I'm just a green ball of light," sniffled Dawn. "I'm thekind of thing Buffy kills."

"No, Dawn! You're family. One of us. Buffy's sister."

Dawn was still upset and not convinced. She looked back and forthbetween them, then out the window. She spoke softly, not looking up."Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it doesn't matter," said Xander.

"We were going to. It just... " Cordelia trailed off. Dawn gave her anangry look and Cordelia continued. "We thought it would be better if wewaited until you were older. We were wrong and I'm sorry."

"Yeah, about that. How old am I?"

"Fourteen," answered Cordelia

"No. I mean the monks. Just suppose, what if they really did just createme—"

"Which they didn't!"

"—if they did," Dawn overrode Xander's protest, "wh-when did, whendid they...?"

"Three, four months ago," answered Cordelia. "We met him just before hedied."

"Four months? Just after you came back, Cordy." Dawn watched Cordeliacarefully.

"Yeah, well." Cordelia noticed Dawn's alertness. "That's part of thestory too. I had a vision. About you, I think. I didn't understand itall but I know it meant I should be here."

"Maybe." For whatever reason, Dawn liked having Cordelia back inSunnydale. Her expression gradually went dark, sad as she thought aboutall the weirdness of the last months. She stared down. "So. I've onlybeen alive for a few months, huh? I must be setting some kind of recordfor walking and talking sooner than any other four-month old."

"Honey, no!" Xander said, taking her hand. "You're fourteen. You knowit. We know it. I know it."

"But you don't really, do you?!" Dawn suddenly shouted. "You said ityourself, all that stuff," Dawn waved vaguely to a somewhere else, "it'sguesswork. You don't really know anything! I really could be this Key,right? Everything else about me is made up."

Xander shook his head emphatically. "Whatever the monks might have donelater, you're you. The real Dawnster. Just as real and human as me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it."

"I know. Here," Xander tapped his temple. "I feel it. Here," He put hishand over hers and pulled it over his heart. "It's that simple."

Xander's simple, absolutely sincere statement of fact was nearly enoughto convince her. But..."I read about that order and what they did. Itwas all written down, and, and, and..."

Cordelia took both her hands. "Dawn, you didn't read enough. We don'tbelieve that anymore. Xander never did and while I had my doubts Idon't think I ever truly believed it either. I'll never understand thephysics of this, but the way we think it works is, instead of a Keybeing formed into you, they started with the real you, the real Dawn,and added to you."

Xander was nodding vigorous agreement. "Yeah. Sort of like a superheropower, only we just haven't figured out what it is yet." He snapped hisfingers. "Hey, maybe you'll zip around in a fluorescent orange and greencape, helping people who locked their keys in the car."

Dawn giggled, then sobered up. "Or maybe I am the Keymaster? And theDestructor is coming?"

"Who you gonna call?" sang out Xander, immediately turning seriousagain. "The important thing is, is that you've been around since thedawn of, uh, well... Dawn."

Dawn smiled, then frowned. "But Glory. She thinks..."

Cordelia and Xander talked of what they knew of Glory, what they weredoing to fight against her. They stressed again they would protect Dawn.They explained they were trying to figure out why the Key was soimportant to Glory and why they needed to hide Dawn's supposedidentity, and, if Glory ever found out, how to stop her.

The conversation and the convincing continued during the drive back toBuffy's.

After Xander stopped the car in Buffy's driveway he turned to Dawn andasked. "Y'all right, kiddo?"

Dawn nodded, unbuckled herself and got out. She returned Xander'sgoodbye wave and ran up the walk to her door as Xander and Cordeliapulled away.

After more crying and hugs with her mom and Buffy, Dawn went to her roomfeeling much better. She was confident her paranoia, though notunfounded, was an overreaction. She was not being ostracized asincarnate evil among them, it was just that her family and friends caredso deeply about her they got over-protective. Although very annoyed, sheunderstood the reasoning and loved her sister and friends more than everfor all they were sacrificing to keep her safe.

Paradoxically a new and different concern began to weigh heavily on hermind. Just as they swore to protect and defend her absolutely, committedthat nothing would harm her, she felt a growing responsibility forputting them in such danger in the first place. What, she thought,could she do in return to help protect them from Glory's misplacedmania? If Glory ever had reason to believe Dawn was her Key, what couldDawn do? In terms of actively taking the fight to Glory, Dawn knew shecould not join them in the forefront of the fight. Being that muchcloser to Glory would make matters worse, make it easier for Glory todiscover and latch on to Dawn as the focus of her god-like powers.

Then it came to her. Dawn knew what she had to do to help protect herfriends. She needed to draw the lightening away. Plans forming as shejumped off her bed, Dawn dumped out her backpack and began stuffing itfull of necessities. She checked her secret hiding places and counted upall her money. On the phone the clerk at the bus depot told her a buswas heading north in an hour and she had enough money to get as far asSacramento. Perfect! One of dad's stupid sisters lived there and shecould get more money and figure out the next move. Before crawling outthe window she hastily wrote a note, careful to mention she was headingfor "the city", which she knew everyone would assume to be L.A. Dawnslipped out and began to make her way across town to the bus station.

–––

At nine in the evening, as Xander was retiring for an early start, theygot the call from Giles to reconvene at the Magic Box. He wouldn't giveany details over the phone despite Cordelia's demands, just that it wasa matter of extreme urgency.

They arrived to see everyone assembled. Tara and Willow were together,sitting at the table, both reading a small slip of paper, Buffy standingacross from them watching intently, Giles behind the counter preparingtea and coffee.

"Xander, Cordelia," he greeted, handing them a mug of coffee and a cupof tea, respectively.

Xander took his, but said, "Uh, no-go Giles, I'm going to need someshut-eye."

Giles smiled grimly while he fetched the note Tara was holding. "Nottonight, I'm afraid." He handed Dawn's note to Cordelia. Xander readover her shoulder. When he was done he took the first of many largegulps. "So Dawn's trying to be the hero. Crazy, gutsy kid." But he wasas upset as the others.

"Says she's heading to L.A. We should call Angel."

"A big ten-negatory, Willow! That's such an obvious mis-lead I can seeit with my eyes closed and one arm tied behind my back." Xander turnedto Buffy, holding up the note. "When did you find this?"

"Half an hour ago. I called Giles. We got here just a couple of minutesbefore you. Mom and I were talking to her only an hour ago."

"Hmm, OK," mulled Xander. "Say she took a few minutes to gather up somestuff. Another five to write this. Maybe a 45 minute head start?"

Buffy and Giles nodded.

"Did she take your mom's car?" Cordelia asked.

"Nope."

"And I don't think she'd try to steal one," Xander said, thinking outloud.

"If this is a fake and she's not going to L.A., maybe she's not goinganywhere? Just going to a friend's house?" asked Willow.

"Possible," agreed Giles, "We should check with all her friends."

"I'll get mom to cover that," said Buffy, heading to the phone behindthe counter to call her mom.

"She couldn't have gotten far, but if she's headed out of town maybeshe's looking to hitch-hike or something?" wondered Tara. "There's a fewways out. Train, bus, maybe walking? By boat, down at the marina?Airplane?"

"Taxi, too. Hmm...," considered Xander, pulling on his chin. "Some ofthose are pretty unlikely. And dangerous. Or expensive. Or both. But itstill adds up to a lot of ground to cover."

Buffy, finished talking to her mom, was getting more agitated by themoment. "We have to find her. Now! Before Glory or the Knights ofAnachronism mistake her for something she isn't and I have to kill everyone of them." She paused to take a deep breath. "Mom's calling around,so that base is covered. Let's split up and sweep the city. Giles, youstay here if she shows up and to coordinate. And keepresearching...stuff. How to find her, how to defend her, how to defeatGlory." She waved vaguely at the books. "Xander, you and Cordy take thecenter of town and the bus station. Willow, Tara, west side, docks andmarina. I'll take the north side and the train station."

"I think we gots us a plan." Everyone got up to leave.

"Find her. Please!" Buffy implored one more time as she led them out thedoor and they went their separate ways. "And fast!"

–––

"Haven't we done this scene before?" Cordelia complained. "I'm sure Iremember the stench of this particular alley." She shivered and huggedherself tighter in the cold air.

"Deja-odor? And Tara and Willow are handling that area."

Cordelia didn't answer as she and Xander gingerly traversed anotherdowntown alley full of garbage bins behind some of the restaurants andshope on the main street. They continued on, working generally towardsthe bus station as they thoroughly checked the obvious and less obviousplaces an upset teenager might hide. But no matter how thorough, there'sonly so much ground that can be covered and all too easy for someone todouble back or be missed in a shadow. Sunnydale was small but notthat small.

"There's so many things I remember," Xander mused. "When we baby-sat forher. Buffy always complaining about Dawn stealing her clothes. It's tooreal not to be true."

"What if we're wrong?" Cordelia challenged, without much conviction. Shewanted to believe in Dawn's reality too. "What if all the theoriesdu-jour are wrong? And she really is just, just... " Cordelia's tonegrew soft and confused, "...made up?" She spread her arms out in wonderand dismay. "And all those things never happened?" That had been herfirst interpretation of her vision, but she wasn't sure anymore. Sheshuddered. If that were so, then what could she trust? What should shetrust? Her deepest-felt memories? Her visions? Nothing?

Xander looked at her. "You don't remember baby-sitting for Buffy'slittle brat sister?" (With lots of making out and no attention paid tothe sleeping kid on the floor.)

"I do!" Cordelia replied sharply. "I also remember she had a crush onyou. Still does a little bit. Silly girl." Cordelia shook her head,perplexed.

"Well, hell yeah!" Xander puffed up, grinning. "By the way, notice thatyou're not talking like she's an imaginary ball of energy. But the crushhas been crushed. For a long time."

"Hmm?" Cordelia mumbled absently as she peered into another darkdoorway.

"You get a one-way ticket to Dawn's sh*t-list island for a few reasons.Like, oh...cheating on her idol."

"Oh?" Then Cordelia got it and looked over at Xander. "Oh! I-I didn'tknow."

"De nada." Xander shrugged and waved it off. He breathed deep andstretched. "But it took a long time to rebuild that bridge. It's likeyou guys have always had some kind of connection or something."

Cordelia stopped and thought that over. Xander looked expectantly at herbut she didn't respond.

"Aw-righty, let's find our wayward fourteen-year old fizzy can of emo."

–––

Not far from where Xander and Cordelia were currently checking, Dawn wasnear one of the most obvious spots of all, the second-favorite teenhang-out after The Bronze. From where she was, across the municipalpark, Dawn could see the cheerfully lit, crowded and noisy EspressoPump.

She was becoming uncomfortably aware just how dark it was and how creepythe park could be at night in the late winter after holiday lights weretaken down. Dawn was having second thoughts and wanted to stop andreassess. The Pump was better than anyplace else she could think of.Actually seeing it, with cheery lights and people, she wanted to getthere as quickly as possible. She decided to cut straight through thepark.

Some homeless people were curled up on the park benches she walked by.Not all were asleep, and many that were awake began to mutter as shepassed. She quickened her pace, circling the dark and idle carousel, thecolorful wooden horses splotchy gray, their cheerful cartoon smilesmalevolent with bared teeth.

"It's here, it's here!" loudly called out someone from a bench up ahead,tracking her with wild eyes. As Dawn neared he suddenly changed fromintent watchfulness to looking away, still repeating his words.

Dawn was frightened, not of the man himself, but of his reaction."Please. Y-you see me, right? I'm real? Look at me."

He stopped speaking and cringed. Then he licked his lips and then shookhis head wildly. "Can't stop it!"

"You know what I am, don't you? You know!"

He bent over, squinching his eyes tightly closed, clapping hands overhis ears. "Can't hear it, can't see it, can't hear it, can't see it." Hemumbled over and over again.

"Tell me! What am I?" she implored. He wouldn't answer.

Frustrated, Dawn shook her head and ran toward the coffee house.

"The Key!"

Dawn whipped her head around and rushed back. "You know what the Key is?Where did I come from? Who made me?"

The man shouted again, staring into the night. "Destroyer!" Dawn jumpedback. "It opens," he yelled. "Death flying in. We're all gone. She goes,we're gone."

Dawn, shaken, backed away. "No, no." She turned and ran, practicallyfalling into the Espresso Pump before stopping.

Seeing the customers stare at her she straightened up and tried to calmdown and hide her embarrassment. She was still convinced she had to getaway, but first she needed to regather. The smells of roasted coffee,the warmth and coziness, were overwhelmingly intoxicating. She slowlymade her way to the counter and ordered a double skinny latte. Aftergetting her latte she spotted an empty table in the back corner andstarted over. Then Dawn bumped into someone and she began to apologizebut stuttered to a stop. He looked so familiar.

"Dawn? Dawn Summers?"

"Do I know you?"

The young gentleman grinned sheepishly. "Well sort of. I'm Ben Goodely.Perhaps you know me better as Dr. Goodely? From Sunnydale General?" Heput out his hand, but Dawn merely looked at him curiously, eyesnarrowed. Ben's smile fell but he left his hand out. "I, ah, helpedtreat your mom at the hospital. I saw you and your sister a few times.Mrs. Summers always talked about you two. Even though we've never said aword, it's like I know your entire life better than mine." He chucklednervously, hand still outstretched.

Just as he was about to pull it back the incomprehension on Dawn's facecleared. "Oh, yeah, yeah! I recognize you." She took has hand in a warmbrief shake, then looked around to make sure her table was still empty."Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Seriously?" Ben almost laughed, carelessly holding out his drink.

Dawn lofted her brow sternly. What could possibly be funny?

"I'm an intern. Still getting crazy long shifts," he explained. "As longas I'm not scheduled in surgery, The Caffeine-Nation," he raised hishand to indicate the coffee shop in general, "is a must-do destination."He chuckled at his little joke.

Dawn frowned and groaned. "You're as bad as Xander." She turned to get toher table, but her tone and posture were friendly enough. Ben followed.

"Xander?" he asked from behind.

"A friend."

Ben smiled. "Ah."

"A 'friend' friend," Dawn said crossly.

Ben held up his hand in submission. "Hey, none of my business." Hepointed to the table in the dark corner Dawn was heading for. "Lookslike we were both angling for the same table. Care to join me? Orperhaps I should ask if I can join you?"

"You can."

Ben closed his eyes, leaned over his drink, and sniffed in the aroma ofhis hot mocha. "The grog is better here than the hospital's, but herethey don't have any marshmallows. Nothing a little petty theft can'thandle." He winked and pulled out a packet of freeze-dried mini-mallows,stripped off the top and waggled the packet. "Want any?"

Dawn made a face and stuck out her tongue. "Don't like 'em."

"What?" Ben was genuinely shocked. "Is that even possible for a teenagerto refuse sugar? Huh," Ben gazed up at the ceiling and its artfullyexposed framing, wiring and duct-work, and seemed to ponder deeply. "I'msure my professors said people under twenty were anatomically incapableof that."

Dawn smiled. "They're too squishy. When I was five Buffy told me theywere monkey brains, and I—" she shuddered.

"Traumatized for life?"

"Yeah." She nodded quickly. "But it's OK with me if you like bleached,melted monkey brains in your mocha." She smile brightly.

Ben frowned and looked sideways at his opened but as yet unused packetof freeze-dried, bleached, melted monkey brains. "Ah...hmm, OK, now Ithink I'm traumatized for life." He folded up the unused packet andstuffed it back in his jacket pocket. "And I thought I was acclimatedto guts all over the place. Sigh," he said forlornly.

"Sorry?"

Ben shrugged it off. "Perhaps it's best if I try to keep this to somelevel of professionalism. How's your mom?"

"She's fine."

"Sister?"

Dawn looked angry, sad, and bored, all at the same time. "I don't careabout her," she grumbled. Despite all the recent make-ups and apologiesand hugs, Dawn was feeling kinda pissed-off again for being cut out.

"Oh," Ben sat back and smiled in sympathy. "You guys have a fight? Iknow how that goes. I've got, um, an older sister too. They can be areal pain." Dawn nodded along as Ben continued. "I can tell you there'vebeen a lot of nights—more than you can count!—where I wishshe didn't exist either."

Sitting here in the warmth, Dawn's resolve was crumbling and she wasbeginning a slide toward despondency. After all, what difference did itmake? "Actually, it's not Buffy. It's me. I don't exist." They were allwrong: Xander, Cordelia, Buffy and everyone. Right now she wasn'tfeeling 'real' at all. She slumped deeper into her chair.

"I think I understand. But take it from a professional, you exist."

Dawn started to get agitated. "No, you don't understand. It's not real.None of this is real." She looked down and motioned across her torso,indicating herself. "I'm made up!"

Ben was confused. "Dawn?"

"I'm nothing. I'm fluff in your imagination. The monks did that so Glorycouldn't find me."

Uh oh. "Monks? Glory? Ah..." Ben started to rise, looking wildly aroundin obvious fear. "You're The Key?"

Dawn could literally hear Ben capitalizing the word. "Waitaminute! Howdo you know about The Key? What do you know?" she demanded.

"Go! Before she finds you. Don't ask me how she knows, 'cause she alwaysdoes. Just go. Get outta here! Or I gotta go!" He began to step pastDawn, to break for the outside and put as much distance as he couldbetween himself and Dawn. But Dawn reached out and grabbed him by theelbow, spinning him around and causing him to stumble.

"Wait! Tell me."

"You don't understand, you're just a kid."

"Hey!"

He put both hands out, palms forward. "Please, you have to trust me. Youstay. I'll go. Or she'll find you. She finds you, she'll hurt you."

"How do you know about Glory?"

Ben's head whipped back and forth, looking for the easiest escapethrough the crowd. "It's a little tough to explain and even harder tobelieve, believe me. You're what she's been searching for. I'm tellingyou, run! You don't know, you—" He suddenly shivered and stoodstraight. "Oh god no, she's coming!"

Dawn was seriously wigged and started to edge away.

"I can feel it, you've gotta get out," Ben called out in an odd voice."Oh no, she's here!" He dashed toward the little hallway leading to therest rooms.

Dawn began to work through the crowd but looked back one more time andstopped in her tracks. There was Glory, coming from the hallway Ben hadjust disappeared into, wearing Ben's hospital scrubs! Dawn gasped.

Glory, peering around, heard the loud gasp over the general hubbub andspotted Dawn. "Hey, don't I know you? Yeah I do. Sit!" she commanded.Against her will Dawn came back to sit at the table she had justvacated. "Ugh, cotton." Glory plucked at the clothes she wore. "Could afabric be more annoyingly pedestrian?" she asked rhetorically. "Damngood thing I make little bro always carry a spare change." She reachedinto a small backpack Dawn hadn't realized Ben was carrying and pulledout a red silk dress. "Now this is what I'm talkin' about!" She smiledgrandly for a moment then frowned at Dawn. "Stay." Glory didn't even payDawn the respect of checking again before sliding around the hallwaycorner.

She returned moments later wearing the dress. "Just makes yourskin sing!"

"Wh-wh-where did Ben go?" Dawn anxiously tried to look around Glory tosee if Ben would return from the bathroom.

Glory reached behind herself to fasten the last button, then sat down infront of Dawn. She put her elbow on the table and propped her head onher hand. "Oh, it's an eensy bit way more complicated than that,darling." She sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. "Family alwaysis, isn't it?"

"Family?"

"Y'know. The boy-toy. Little Bennie."

"But..." Dawn waved her hand vaguely in the direction Ben had gone.

"That would be the 'way more complicated' part."

Dawn bit her lip and slowly looked around. Momentarily the crowd hadthinned and she saw a clear path through. If she jumped now—

"You'd never make it. I'd rip your spine out through your nose beforeyou got half a step. And those leeettle legs?" Glory grinned in an uglyway. "They'll make an exquisite popping sound when I pull them off."Suddenly Glory was out of her chair and right next to Dawn, bending overwith her hands on her knees so her face was at Dawn's level. "Would youlike to hear for yourself, Uhdawn?"

Dawn barely kept herself from shaking all over. She slowly turned herhead side to side in the negative.

Glory smirked as she returned to her chair. Dawn kept her eyes down."Now what I'm trying to noodle is, what in the world is Benjie-boydoing with the slayer's little sis?"

Dawn glanced up then down, hair falling in front of her face. "Y-youdon't remember?" she asked in a confused wavering voice.

Glory casually reached across the table to flick Dawn's hair back offher shoulder. "There's nothing to remember. You were talking tohim, not me. That's another of the 'eensy more complicated' bitsyour puny ant-brain couldn't grasp. What do you say," Glory stood up,pulling Dawn to her feet, "we find a nice place less stuffed with humanslime, hey?" She pushed Dawn in front of her through the unseeing,uncaring crowd. "Someplace where you and I can have a long anduninterrupted chat."

After exiting the Espresso Pump, Glory pushed a very frightened Dawnacross the street and back toward the park.

–––

Buffy met Willow and Tara at the train station. "Any sign?" shedemanded.

Willow frowned and shook her head. "No Dawn, sorry."

Buffy stomped in frustration, cracking the concrete pathway. Why didDawn have to be so stupid? Or, if she was a made thing, why did themonks have to make her such an irritating sister? Why not a big brother,or someone who was smart? "Damn, anything could happen to her, not justGlory."

She whirled when her cell phone trilled, Willow and Tara skipping backfrom Buffy's flying elbows. Buffy pulled the phone from her pocket,flipped it open and pressed it to her ear. She listened for a moment,apparently not even getting a chance to say hello, and her eyebrowscrawled up her forehead. "It's Cordy," she whispered to Tara and Willow.She listened again without asking any questions, then said "Fiveminutes. And thanks!" She snapped the phone closed.

"Well?" asked Willow as she and Tara raced to follow Buffy.

"They spotted Dawn leaving the Espresso Pump. With Glory."

–––

Dawn was right back in the park she had crossed before, Glory pushingher past the carousel then up against a tree. "OK, nice and quiet, solet's talk the talk. Your sister the slayer has my Key. I just know shedoes. Well, see, it's mine. I want it back." Glory's tone droppedmenacingly. "Do you know where she squirreled it away? There's icecream and puppies in it for you if you sing a good song."

Dawn gulped. Could it be true Glory hadn't heard what she'd told Ben? Asincredible as it seemed, Glory was certainly behaving that way. Could itbe, with the evidence literally right in front of her face, Glory wasincapable or too stupid to know Dawn was The Key? That also seemedconsistent with Glory's behavior. For her own life Dawn had no choicebut to play it as if she were as ignorant as Glory. "I-I-I'm not sure,"she squeaked nervously. "A key? What does it look like?"

Glory put her hand over her heart and smiled fondly. "Well," she begannostalgically, "the last time I caught a peep it was a bright swirlyshimmer. Sorta emerald-ish. Really brought out the blue in my eyes."Glory frowned in genuine remembered anger. "But those sneaky littlemonks pulled a dirty trick." Glory threw up her arms. "So now it couldlook like anything! You see the predicament I'm in?"

"Well, maybe—"

"Yes?"

"Well, maybe if you told me more about it, I'd know if I've seen it.I've seen lots of weird things in this town, y'know. But I've never seenany weird green things. Well, there was this really wild party were SamFindhal ralphed-up the most greenish—"

Dawn heard Glory growling.

"OK, Sam's puke is probably not it, I'm guessing?"

Glory sighed, leaned forward and put her hands on the tree on eitherside of Dawn's head, making her gasp nervously. Glory gazed at her for amoment. "No, I do not think so," she snapped, teeth clicking. Dawnflinched. Glory smiled at her petty victory and stepped back.

"So this, ah, key thing, it's been around for a long time?"

"Well, not as long as me, but, yeah. Just this side of forever."

Dawn nibbled her lip, very afraid of the possible next answer. But sheneeded to know. "Is it evil?"

Glory puffed a stray strand of blond hair off her forehead. "Oh,totally!"

Dawn slumped. Not what she wanted to hear.

"Well, no, not really," laughed Glory, "it depends on your point ofview."

"What's it for? I mean a key goes with a lock, right?"

Glory tapped her nose. "We have a winner! Maybe not all you humans arequite so dumb."

"And the lock is for...?"

"Hey, I smell a fox in my pig sty." Glory squinted and examined Dawnfrom a different angle. "Have you been playing patty-cake with brotherBen?"

Dawn tried to back up into and through the tree. The old oak wouldn'tlet her. "No, I—we only, ah, met by accident," she squeaked.

Glory got nose to nose with Dawn. "You know what I'm thinking? I'mthinking maybe you don't have any f*cking idea where my Key is! You'rewasting my time." Dawn would swear she could feel her skin trying tocrawl off. Glory spun away, rubbing her forehead as if she had aheadache, mumbling as she started to walk off. She spun back. "Hey, thisdoesn't have to be a complete waste of time." She returned to Dawn."I've been meaning to send the slayer a message. And I could use alittle pick-me-up. Two birds, one stone. Boom! Yummy dead birds."

She reached both hands to either side of Dawn's head. This time Dawncould feel her hair and eye-brows wanting to join her skin in animmediate retreat.

"Get away from my sister."

Glory stopped short. At first it seemed to Dawn she would go into a poutbut then she saw Glory smile slyly. "Hey, we were just talking 'boutyou."

"Talking all done," said Buffy, gesturing at Dawn, who scampered overbehind her sister, unhindered.

Surprising Glory with the lack of fair play, Buffy punched her with aright-left combination, ducking Glory's riposte. Buffy dropped andkicked up into Glory's crotch, to little effect. They grappled and both spuninto a tree and bounced off separately.

In the meanwhile Dawn moved over to join Cordelia, Xander, Willow andTara, arriving just seconds after Buffy. Giles came puffing up momentslater.

They watched as Glory and Buffy traded punches. Glory slipped to Buffy'sside, reached and flipped Buffy onto her back. As Glory prepared to kickBuffy, Xander broke from the group, coming up behind Glory with a tireiron. Glory halted her kick, grabbed Xander's wrist with one hand andhis belt with the other and threw him ten feet into a concrete bench.Xander collapsed from the impact. Both Cordelia and Dawn ran over tohelp.

As Giles tried to aim the crossbow, Buffy got up off the ground and intothe line of fire, punching Glory in the kidneys as she was gloating overridding herself of Xander.

Willow and Tara dropped to their knees, facing each other. They pulledout small leather bags and emptied the contents onto the ground betweenthen. A burlap ground cloth was spread out and they quickly butcarefully arranged items on it. They started chanting quietly.

When Buffy kicked high, Glory caught her foot and pushed Buffy away.Buffy used the momentum to go into a back-flip, kicking Glory in theface with her other foot as she continued around. When she landed on herback in the grass it gave Giles a clear shot. His aim was perfectly onthe center of mass. The bolt-tip smashed to pieces and the rest of thebolt bounced away. Glory was irritated at the intrusion to her fun."Oh, please."

While Glory had been engaged by Buffy and then distracted by Giles, arecovered Xander had snuck up behind Glory again and smashed the irondown on her head. It would have put a good sized V-shaped split into avampire's skull, but against Glory it was like hitting a brick wall.Xander shouted in pain from the vibrations shooting up his arm. Thefallen iron, lying on the grass at Glory's feet, was visibly bent.

"Hey, no touching the hair!" Glory berated him. She reached down to pickup the iron and inspected it. Instead of hitting Xander with it shecasually backhanded him away like he was an annoying fly. He crashedinto Giles and they both fell into some rhododendrons. Glory pointedwith the iron at each of them sprawled on the ground. "How does thatcommercial go? Oh yeah! It's dyin' time." She considered her options asshe advanced on the two men. "We'll start with the cutie-pie." Shewhipped the tire iron sideways at Dawn.

From her knees Buffy leaped into the missile's path, letting it stab herin the upper chest as she fell to the ground. She groaned from both thestabbing pain and the hard landing.

"Buffy!" shrieked Dawn, crawling forward on her hands and knees.

"Get back!" yelled Buffy, already pulling the piece of metal out of her.Dawn scrunched up her sweatshirt and pressed on the wound to help stopthe bleeding.

"Nice catch. Is that the best you little crap-gnats got? 'Cause I'm noteven breakin' a sweat." Glory began to saunter over to the prone andinjured Buffy. In her confidence she ignored the two witches as shewalked between them, standing a few yards apart from each other. Taraand Willow each threw a handful of glittery powder over her as shepassed, covering her hair and body.

They had stayed out of the fight so she hadn't planned on killing themtill after, but now that they'd ruined her dress she growled andadvanced on Tara who looked the most tempting. Willow clapped her handsand whispered something in an ancient language. Glory exploded into acloud of dust and Willow fell to the ground, twitching all over, bloodrunning from one nostril.

"Willow!" Tara rushed over to cradle her girlfriend.

Buffy stared blankly at the empty place that was Glory, then shookherself and pulled Dawn over to her, hugging her tightly. After a fewmoments she looked over at Willow, her shivers all gone and sitting upby herself, but her nose was still bleeding.

"She's gone?" she asked with rising hope. "It's all over?"

Willow, still woozy, carefully shook her head. "Teleportation spell.Feedback's a four-letter word for a female dog."

"Teleportation? Where'd she go?"

Willow frowned. "I don't know. So far, my aim amounts to 'not here'."

Tara, who had been working closely with Willow on the spell, amplified."She could be a thousand miles away"

"Or behind that carousel."

–––

Several miles off Sunnydale's shores, a human-shaped, human-sizedobject, clad in a silk dress, fell into cold Pacific waters.

With a flick of its tail a startled great white shark veered sharplytoward the splash and snapped at the wiggling thing. If a great whitecould ever be said to be surprised by anything, this would be it. All ofits front teeth down to the third row shattered on Glory's imperviousskin. But sharks are not evolved to know when to give up. It swirledaway and with another powerful lunge flicked back and bit again.

Feeling the immense, almost painful pressure on her leg, Glory reacheddown and split the water with an uppercut. "Knock it off, stupid, mygoldfish bite harder than you." Glory's uppercut broke the water,trailing a bloodied ribbon from her dress along with bits of shark. Hereyes narrowed. "And you tore my dress!"

The shark knew only to attack, not realizing nor caring it was beingpunched to death by the annoyed god.

–––

"Are you OK?" Giles asked, untangling himself and trying to help astumbling Xander to his feet.

"I am uncomfortably numb," Xander mumbled.

"Ah, situation normal, all is well." Giles left to check on Buffy.

Tara smiled and proudly held Willow. "You'll get it, it's all in thefollow-through."

"If the follow-through continues to be these painful seizure's, thenmaybe I'll take up golf."

"You call that a problem? Hah! I'll trade you for my vision-pain anyday." Cordelia didn't really mean it. As painful as the visions were,she wanted to keep them.

"Let's patch up and get out of here," advised Giles, already flippingthrough the first aid kit, drawing out a large sterile gauze and quicklytaping it over Buffy's wound.

He went to check on Willow, her head cradled in Tara's lap. "That was anincredibly dangerous spell," he quietly told Willow. Tara soberly noddedto him when he glanced up at her.

"Yep," Willow agreed, holding a hand to her forehead, "won't be tryingthat one again soon." She stumbled as she tried to stand. "Or ever?"

Buffy, already recovering from the wound, strongly held Dawn by hershoulder. "Are you OK? Did she hurt you?"

"Do you care?" Dawn asked. Her tone was somewhere between anger andgenuine curiosity.

"Do I care?!" Buffy was flabbergasted. "You dope, you're my sister. MyDawnie. My, my..." Buffy searched for the right words. Nothing wasforthcoming and she settled for pulling Dawn into a strong hug. "I loveyou, Dawn."

The quiet emphatic assurance speared into Dawn. Her knees weakened andshe allowed herself to be held up by Buffy. "You don't think I'm somealien?"

"I—" began Buffy. She held Dawn out. "OK, at one point things gota bit confusing. But I was wrong, and—"

Dawn grinned and nodded, teasing. "You're often easily confused."

Buffy returned her smile. "And I'm sorry. I worry about you becauseyou're my sister. I feel it—know it!—as deeply as anythingI've ever felt." She reached out and clasped Dawn's hand, holding itfirmly between her own, so tight they could feel the pulse of theother's. "Can't you feel that, Dawn? Two hearts together. You are mysister, I have no doubt. And I will protect you. I will. Not because I'mthe slayer and you're my 'job', or because some weirdo said somethingstupid. No. Because you and me, Dawnie? We're sisters forever. How elsecould anybody drive me so bat-sh*t crazy?" She gathered Dawn up inanother hug.

"I was so scared," whispered Dawn into Buffy's ear.

Buffy nodded against Dawn's shoulder. "Me too, kid, me too."

"Awww, I think I'm gonna cry." Xander swiped mock tears off his cheek,then stumbled when Cordelia shoved him.

"Come on. We should get out of here," said Giles, "before anyone comesaround asking questions."

Xander coughed and gawked. "Giles? In this place? Seriously?" But hefollowed along.

Dawn stopped short, a puzzled expression wrinkling her forehead. "Wait!Ben. There's something he knows." She shook her head trying to breakfree an important memory. "He was, he was trying to...I mean...Ithink...I, I—" she kicked the ground in frustration. "Damn, Ican't remember!" She looked up. "Maybe he was trying to help?"

"Don't worry about it, Dawn," comforted Buffy, patting Dawn's back."Next time we see him, we'll thank him."

–––

Dreg's face was a bloody mess. "Our roles are reversed, it seems," Jinxobserved to his fellow follower of the All Seeing, All Knowing, AllWonderful Glorificus. "Let's take care of you first."

Dreg let himself be helped to a chair in the kitchen, a place Glorynever entered, and he began to explain while Jinx fetched a wet toweland other items. "Her Brilliance Beyond All...ah, All—never mind.She wants us to drive around town in the convertible with the vampireand see if the bloodsucker can pick up the trail of the Key."

When he returned Jinx applied a smelly unguent to Dreg's face, dabbingat and cleaning the wounds. "Hmm. That's not a terrible idea, as far asher ideas go." Jinx continued his ministrations, applying bandages tothe worst of the broken nodules.

"In the daytime?"

Jinx paused. "Oh. I see."

"When I explained we must wait till nightfall, well..." Dreg pointed atthe injuries suffered for his trouble. He sighed deeply. "Oh, why do wefollow her?" He eyed his friend warily, to see the reaction to hisblasphemous utterance.

"Because, brother, that is our place." Though he remembered Dreg'sdoubts from their earlier conversation in this very spot, Jinx couldstill be shocked to hear them spoken out loud. He was much less shockedthan Glory would have expected of him.

"But maybe not in this world?"

Jinx's voice dropped to a whisper. "Oh brother, I have indeed ponderedon this. You are treading along dangerous avenues. Please be carefulwhat you say." He looked left and right to verify no one else waspresent.

Despite Jinx's caution, Dreg was emboldened. With the application oftheir special healing unguents and numbing agents he was soon feelingbetter. He wanted Jinx to ponder more. "What do you think about Earth?About what it's like being here?"

Jinx stood straight. "What an odd question."

"Well?"

Jinx eyes unfocused as he considered.

Dreg didn't wait for an answer. "How long have we been here? How manyhundreds of years? Thousands? Do you even remember? I confess I do not."He paused. "Perhaps it's not so bad?" he suggested. "Perhaps some thingsare even ...nice?"

"Perhaps some things." Jinx seemed to waver. Then his eyes got hard."Are you suggesting," he had to swallow hard, "betrayal? That we not doeverything required by our mistress?"

"Not at all! We shall do our utmost to follow our Glory's every bidding,to help her return to The Origin over which she shall rule all. But,"and Dreg's tone turned sly, "as we help her back, perhaps we, usunthinking worthless creatures, are not worthy of staying by her side?Or perhaps," he continued, "perhaps we simply... forget to follow?"

"And?"

"Remained here."

Jinx sat up sharply. "Our families!"

"Our families are here!" Dreg seemed indignant, as if he thought hehimself mattered too. "We can continue to grow and build here, make anew, better home than where her Pontificating Idiot wishes to go."

"The danger if Glory ever—" Jinx stopped that unpleasant line ofthought. "I must think about this more."

"That's all I ask, brother, that we think for ourselves. Of ourselves."