"Excuse me sir."

Gareth Young looked behind him to see a stocky, one-eyed man hurrying to him. He pulled away from his phone call to speak to the brown-haired stranger. "Yes?"

"I need your mobile," the young man offered him a handful of notes. "Here’s two hundred and forty pounds."

Noting the wild-eyed look in the thick-set man’s eye, he took a step backwards. "Not interested," he replied. "It has all my numbers."

"I’m afraid," the young man grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a head butt, the blow shattering the bridge of his nose, blood gushing out instantly. "I have to insist." His mouth opened in a scream that turned into a croak when his assailant drove a fist into his stomach. Legs buckling beneath him, he fell on his side onto the pavement, lungs wheezing for air. "Sorry about this, but my need is greater etc, etc." He felt his assailant shove the proffered notes in his hand before striding away.

* * *

Giles stared at him with bulging eyes as he climbed back into the car. "You mugged that man!" the Watcher exclaimed.

"Really?" Xander snapped back as the car screeched away from the kerb, a sour taste in his mouth from his actions. "I hadn’t noticed Mr. Joyrider. I offered him two hundred and forty pounds for a fifty pound phone but he wasn’t interested. And we need it more."

His defence given, he dialled both Buffy and Will’s numbers in quick succession but to his dismay he only got their answering machines. "Nothing?"

He shook his head at Giles’ muttered question. "Nothing," he confirmed. The two of them exchanged troubled glances.

"Give me the phone I wanna ring Fang."

"No, I’m afraid not," Giles shook his head. "We can’t be sure that-."

"G_Man," Xander interrupted, his tone soft yet firm. Looking into the back of the vehicle he couldn’t help but emphasise with the desperation and pain in the east coast native’s liquid eyes. Despite being sandwiched between her sister Slayers, Faith looked like the loneliest person in the world. "Who’s your senior Slayer?"

After a few seconds the Englishman answered reluctantly. "Faith."

"Then trust her to make the right decision," he passed the mobile through the gap between the two front seats. "There you go Faith."

* * *

Faith stared at the offered phone, amazed that Xander would take her side. Finally she reached out a trembling hand and took the mobile with a grateful nod. For a moment she stared at the phone frozen with fearful indecision. What if Fang was gone too? Then she’d had no-one again. Finally she forced her trepidation down deep and dialled her mentor’s number.

* * *

Angel stopped and groaned when his mobile began ringing again. For a clandestine escape it wasn’t exactly stealthy. And, Angel’s brow furrowed, he belatedly realised that someone, probably Spike, had re-programmed his ring-tone as ‘Sesame Street’.

Deciding to keep his new ring-tone in tribute to his fallen grand-childe, Angel pulled out his phone and squinted at the display. Not recognising the number he was tempted to ignore it, but eventually curiosity got the better of him. "Hello?"

"The bastards killed him."

Angel blinked, as a greeting it was unusual and the speaker’s trembling voice was almost unrecognisable. Almost. "Killed who Faith?" he asked, his tone soft.

"My Robbie," the brunette’s voice broke off, "they bombed the Council Keep." Angel’s mouth dropped open. Who would dare attack the new, more proactive, Council? "I wasn’t with him when he died. I failed him Fang, just like," the girl took a rattling breath, "just like I fail everyone."

"Now listen to me Faith," pushing aside his shock, Angel injected a firm note into his voice. "I never met your boyfriend," probably saved him from having to kick the stupid bastard’s ass when he tried to stake him and Spike, "but from what you’ve told me he wouldn’t want you to die for him. Understand?"

"Yeah."

His protégé’s whispered agreement was less than heartfelt but he knew that there was little he could immediately do from this distance. "Is there anybody with you?" God, if Faith was on her own in this state, with her self-destructive history.

"Yeah, couple of other Slayers, G, and Xan."

Angel sighed with relief. Well that was something. Aside from Wesley he respected Giles more than any man he’d ever known and Xander was a loyal and reliable friend. "Could I speak to Giles or Xander?"

"Yeah."

A second later. "Hello?"

Xander. Angel winced. This was going to be a fun conversation. "Xander what happened? Faith’s a little hazy?"

"Someone fired a rocket into the keep."

The Scooby’s reply hit him like a thunderbolt. He glanced towards Illyria, realising the goddess in her inexperience of the modern world had thought a missile attack was a dragon. "Same thing happened here. It wiped out most of my team. How many dead on your side?"

There was a pause before the young man replied. "About eighty."

"Damn," Angel closed his eyes for a second in a gesture of respect for fellow fallen warriors. "Xander," he swallowed. "I’ve got some bad news."

"Yeah?" the young man’s voice was wary.

"I just got a phone call from my son," Angel paused; this was so hard to even say. Gathering his courage, he continued. "He’s in Italy. He’d gone to ask Buffy to help me but found her dead but he did manage to rescue Dawn from some vampires."

"God no," Xander’s voice cracked slightly. "But Dawn Patrol’s safe?"

"For the moment," Angel replied. "Connor’s looking after her for the moment. But I’m heading out there as soon as possible."

"So will we," Xander paused. "Us, you, Buffy, and Willow too. There’s something really heavy after us isn’t there?"

"There is," he confirmed. "Keep in touch and an eye on Faith for me."

"I will," Xander promised before hanging up.

Angel stared at the phone for a few seconds before pocketing it. "Compassion makes one weak."

"You think so?" Angel turned to the resurrected Old One. "Compassion makes humans stronger than you could imagine. Caring," he thought of Buffy, Cordelia, and Connor, "loving, takes more courage than anything in the world, because to care opens you up to the possibility of loss." He turned away from the goddess.

"Where are we going?" Illyria demanded in that curiously metallic voice of hers.

"To steal an airplane."

* * *

Giles looked around the boarding house rooms he’d rented under an assumed name, he was devastated by Buffy and, by obvious conclusion, Willow’s deaths, but there would be time to grieve later. He had other responsibilities to his other charges, especially Dawn. "What do we know about our adversaries?"

"Nothing," Faith muttered, the rage she’d confronted him with at Zabuto’s had left her eyes, leaving the usually energetic Slayer looking dull and lifeless. "We know fuck all."

"Actually," Xander leaned forward, his single eye intent. "We know a lot. They’ve got serious resources. They managed four simultaneous hits across the globe, using a variety of methods – including demons and hi-tech military hardw-."

"Five possibly," Giles corrected.

"Sorry?" Xander stared at him.

"I’ve tried to contact Julia Lee, the head of Watcher East, but nothing."

"Damn," Xander looked deep into his eyes. "They’re also really well informed. They knew where and when to strike."

"But who are they?" Vi interrupted, quiet desperation in her eyes.

There was silence for a few seconds. "Maybe someone governmental. Maybe Riley could give us a head’s up?" Xander suggested.

"No," Giles shook his head. "Riley disappeared just over four months ago."

"Ah hell," Xander groaned. "A pre-emptive strike?"

"Quite possibly, although his wife Samantha had recently died at a band of Qwar-Laks. So perhaps he’s simply deserted, doesn’t feel up to fighting anymore," Giles replied. "Our immediate priority is getting to Dawn. The question is how do we do that discreetly?"

"Leave that to me," Xander said.

* * *

Xander took a rattling breath as he stepped out of the room he was sharing with Giles. They’d tried Willow’s number several times in the last few hours without success. Willow and Buffy, his life-long friend and his hero both dead.

"Time to grieve later," he muttered. He’d grieved enough in the past year, allowed his anger and pain to hurt those closest to him. His priority now had to be Dawn, Giles, and, he knocked on the next guest room door, Faith. "Faith, can I come in?"

"L…leave me alone."

Xander’s hand dropped to the door handle and hesitated. "You know," he decided talking through the door was possibly safer. "I forgave you the moment you walked through Buffy’s front door. Coming to help us took real courage. But afterwards, after Anya died, I hated you, the girl who’d tried to kill me, for living when the woman I love died." Xander took a breath, forcing oxygen past the lump in his throat. "That’s what grief does to you, it take away your reason. Don’t let that happen to you, Anya wouldn’t have wanted it for me and Wood wouldn’t want it for you. There’s plenty of people who care-."

"Sure there is," Faith responded, a world of bitterness in her pain-filled voice.

He ignored the interruption. "Do what I didn’t and talk to someone. If not me, there’s Giles, Rona, and Vi. We all care." He waited for an invitation to come in. When he didn’t get one, he walked away. He’d try again later.

"Oh no," Connor pulled Dawn into the shadows.

"What’s wrong?" the last remaining Summers demanded, her voice shrill.

Connor glanced worriedly at his companion. Since last night, the beautiful teen had been on a knife-edge, veering between the extremes of depression and hysteria. Deciding she had the right to know whatever news there was, however bad, he tore a poster from the nearest wall. "Do you read Italian?" the Sunnydale native nodded at him. "What does this say?"

Dawn’s doe-like eyes grew saucer-sized as she recognised the poster’s photograph. "That’s me!" she squawked.

"Focus," Connor muttered.

"Yeah right," Dawn nodded before looking down at the sheet of paper. "Wanted. Dawn Summers, 17. Miss. Summers is suspected of the robbery of three tourists, drugs-smuggling, and prostitution." Dawn’s jaw hit the ground. "Prostitution! Who do they think I am, Faith?"

"Quiet," Connor hissed as he clamped a palm over the girl’s mouth as it opened for another rant. "Low profile, remember? I think there was a deaf Sicilian who didn’t hear you."

"Sorry," Dawn’s apology was muffled by his hand. "I’m calm now." Relieved, he released his hold. "What are we going to do?"

"Um," seeing a near-by sign he smiled as a light-bulb clicked on. "I think you need an image change."

* * *

"Xander," Giles glanced nervously around the safety deposit bank. "If we are being tracked then perhaps a bank transaction isn’t the best way to keep a low profile."

"I know," his son nodded. "But we haven’t got a choice. And after this, we won’t need to break cover again until we’re ready."

After a second, Giles nodded reluctantly. "Very well," he conceded before glancing at his companion. While his own sleep had been plagued by nightmares and the girls’ too, judging by their red eyes and generally dishevelled appearance, Xander appeared to be almost revitalised. It was as if the crisis had propelled him out of his year-long depression, returning him to his usual vitality. "I’ll bow to your judgment."

Xander appeared inordinately pleased by the compliment. "Um, thanks." As Xander stepped up to the reception desk, Giles took a second to glance around their surroundings.

It was a simple enough set-up, a small office in a side street off the town’s busy main street. Giles grimaced as he noted the two CCTV cameras over the grilled front door. If their mysterious adversaries tracked them this far, then they’d know they’d come here. At least in the vault there’d be no camera, leaving their opponents to wonder why exactly they’d come here.

This was something he was more than a little intrigued about. "We’re ready."

Giles turned at Xander’s voice. "Lead the way," he instructed.

The pretty receptionist led them into the vault, a long room filled with two rows of deposit boxes stacked ten high. "Here you are Mr. Harris," the twenty-something woman stopped by one of the columns. "Number 288. I’ll leave you to it. Buzz the intercom when you’re ready to leave."

"Thanks miss," Xander nodded. Once the bank worker had exited the vault, closing the door behind her, Xander unlocked his box and pulled the tray inside it out, placing it on the table central to the vault.

Giles’ eyes widened when his son pulled the tray’s lid off to reveal a .32 automatic and a selection of documents including a passport, driving licence, and a quartet of bank books. "What is all this?"

"When Anya died," Xander’s single eye shadowed in pain. "She left me $350,000 in her will." Giles blinked. Xander chuckled humourlessly. "My girl could play the stock market. In addition I got another 100 k for my eye and half a million as beneficiary of Anya’s life insurance." Xander looked down at the table for a second before continuing. "When the money came through, I took it. Converted it into pounds, 600,000 in all. Then, remember that week last October, when I disappeared?" After a second he nodded. He’d had Vi and Rona tear the locality apart looking for his son until the young man had suddenly reappeared, ignoring all requests for an explanation. "I went to London, looking for a forger so I could get some fake ID."

"Why?"

"I knew if I just left you’d try and track me down. If I had false ID and my money in fake accounts then maybe I might be able to escape."

"Why didn’t you go through with the running?"

Xander shrugged. "Lack of motivation. Cowardice. Reluctance to leave the only people who ever knew Anya." Xander shrugged again. "Take your pick."

"And your plan is to get us some fake ID. Using your contacts?"

"Something like that," Xander offered him the snub .32.

"That’ll take time," Giles commented as he pocketed the gun.

"I know," frustration showed in Xander’s eye. "But we don’t have a choice if we want to get to Dawn. And Angel’s got access to resources we no longer have, he should get there sooner."

Giles nodded, the undeniable truth of what Xander had said hitting home. "Then what is your plan?"

"You take Rona and Vi," Xander passed him the bundles of notes, "and get us a new car, clothes, and some mobiles. "I’ll take Faith as protection as I empty these." Xander waved the account books. "Then tonight we’ll head down to my contact and get some false ID."

"Do you think it’s prudent to separate Faith from Vi and Rona?" Giles queried. In her current mood the Bostonian made him more than a little wary. "She could be a danger to you."

"It’s possible," Xander shrugged, his remaining eye suddenly cold. "But without Anya I still don’t care if I live or die, just as long as you, Dawn, and the others do, and someone pays for Will and Buff’s deaths. Coming?"

"Coming," Giles concurred. As his son turned to the intercom, he was struck by the realisation just how dangerous the Sunnydale High School graduate truly was.

* * *

Angel hurried, wraith-like, across the Wolfram & Hart private airfield. He and Illyria had exited the sewers an hour ago after spending the last day in them and headed for the jet he’d used on his last trip to Italy. With Spike.

Pushing aside his surprising sense of loss at his childe’s death, he stepped out of the shadows behind the plane’s pilot, stood just by his plane. "Hello Russell."

The pilot spun to face him, his face paling. "A…angel," the man stumbled backwards. "But you’re dead."

"Undead actually," he corrected with a smile. "Now I need the plane-."

"I can’t," Russell shook his head. "You’re no longer-, ugh."

"I wasn’t asking," Angel clamped a hand around the pilot’s throat and lifted him off the ground before morphing into his demonic visage. "I was telling." Grabbing hold of the propeller on the plane’s nose, he gave it a spin. "You know in my wild days I was considered quite the torturer. Never got to use a propeller on a man’s face though."

"I’ll take wherever you want to go," Russell stammered.

"Of course you will," Angel returned to his human face before lowering the shaking pilot to the ground. "Now get on with it. I’m in a hurry."

As the pilot raced up the plane’s steps, he sensed Illyria behind him. "I thought you said you did not use torture?"

"I don’t on humans as a rule. Never said anything about intimidation."

"Ah," Illyria nodded. "I understand. You are wise indeed. You will make a worthy guide."

"I’m so honoured," Angel muttered. He noticed it hadn’t been a request.

* * *

"And what would madam want?"

Dawn glanced around the stylish hair-dressing saloon that Connor had dragged her into after buying her a pair of sun-glasses before replying. "I want it cutting short."

"Short?" the waif-like Italian beauty stood behind her, reflected in the mirror in front of her, looked horrified. "But to cut such beautiful hair is a crime!"

Dawn gritted her teeth. The stylist’s words echoed her own thoughts. For as long as she could remember she’d been proud of her long, straight hair. But if she wanted to live long enough to see her sister avenged for the moment she had to hide. "I feel like a change," she lied. "And maybe a perm and some tints too."

* * *

"How are you feeling today Faith?"

"Five by five."

The dullness in the brunette’s normally spirited eyes, the paleness of her skin, and the puffiness of her cheeks said different. For a second Xander stared at the Bostonian sat opposite before glancing down at the pub menu. "What do you want for lunch?"

"Not hungry."

"Okay," he glanced at the hovering waitress. Deciding to ignore the Slayer’s reply he gave his order. "Two 16 oz steaks, two side orders of fries, and a side order of onion rings." The waitress nodded before disappearing to the kitchen. "You need to keep your strength up."

When he received no reply he looked around the bar. It was a typical English pub, dimly lit with rustic furnishings and a crackling fire in the far corner, the perfect refuge and antidote to a typical rainy English day. Turning back to his companion, he decided to try again. "It hurt losing someone doesn’t it?"

Something dangerous flickered in Faith’s eyes. "Gonna gloat are ya?"

"No," Xander took a calming breath. "Just to offer some advice. I’ve wasted the last year in a pit of self-pity, you shouldn’t do the same. I didn’t realise there were other people who cared -."

"Cared about you," Faith interrupted, her eyes hardening. "The only person who didn’t think of me as second-best to B or just a slut is dead."

"That’s not true," Xander countered. "Even in my depression I noticed how excited all the Slayers would get when you returned. They idolised you."

"Yeah. Past tense, they’re all dead."

"Not all, Vi and Rona are still alive, they need your guidance. And there’s other girls around the world. You’re their hero."

"Whatever."

"Okay, then what about Deadboy?" A muscle in the Bostonian’s left cheek twitched. Encouraged, Xander continued. "We’ll be seeing him in a few days. What will it do to him to see you like this?"

"You don’t give a shit about Fang!" Faith accused.

"Guilty," he nodded. "But I give a shit about you. I don’t want to see a strong, spirited woman fall back into her self-abusive ways."

"See, you do look down on me."

"No," Xander denied with a shake of his head. "I admire how you managed to drag yourself up from an abusive childhood to be a hero. In fact," he hesitated before plunging in. "I’d be honoured if you’d consider me as your Watcher."

"You think you can replace Woodie?" Faith scowled. "You think being my Watcher would give you rights or something?"

"No." It was an effort, but again Xander managed to keep his temper under control by reminding himself that retaliating could well end up with him being thrown through the nearest window.

"Why then?"

"Because an amazing woman tried like hell to be my friend and I was too stupid to realise what a precious gift she was offering. I’d like a second chance."

Faith stared at him for a long second before speaking. "I’ll think about it,"

"Great," Xander beamed at his companion before looking towards the kitchen. "Where is that food? Oh, and one other thing?"

"Yeah?" Faith didn’t look up.

"Prison showers, anything like Caged Heat?" Xander grinned. "You did it."

"Did what? This time the Slayer glanced up at him.

"Smiled."

"Did not!"

"Did too."

"Sir," Agent F rushed into the board room that served as their organisation’s headquarters, foregoing the customary knock on the door in his haste. "I have the surveillance reports from Zabuto’s residence."

"Excellent!" An interested gleam in his eyes, his group leader leaned forward. "Please continue."

"It’s bad news I’m afraid. As well as Xander and Faith," his mouth twisted in disgust at having to mention that little bitch’s name, "it appears that Mr. Giles and Slayers Vi Roberts and Rona Jones also survived."

"Three Slayers and Rupert," his boss pursed his lips together in thought. "Harris is a nonentity but the others…."

"Yes sir," Agent F replied. He secretly disagreed with the Englishman’s assumption that only the empowered and the trained could be of use. Personal experience had taught that Xander could be very dangerous, especially when those he cared for were under threat or hurt. His one regret about this operation was Xander’s inevitable demise. The others he didn’t care about, but Xander was different. However his former friend’s renowned loyalty meant he had to die.

"Yes," his organisation chief appeared not to have heard his interruption. "And what of them since, what reports do we have?"

"There’s a police report of an one-eyed man mugging a businessman for a mobile and a boarding-house in Oxford of a booking made by the same man, then nothing."

"Um, they are proving trickier than I expected. Still," his boss drummed his fingers on the oak table before him for a few seconds, "I think it’s time to proceed with stage 2 of our plan, the sweep-up."

Agent F nodded. "Yes sir, I’ll go give the orders."

* * *

"Got everything Dawn?" Connor hid a sigh at the lack of animation in his partner’s eyes. His enhanced hearing had never seemed like a such a curse as he sat helplessly in the next room listening to Dawn’s sobs for the last two nights. The worse thing was he could do nothing but protect her.

And part of protecting her were their nightly moves to different hotels as dad had instructed him. He’d chosen night-time for their moves as the lesser of two evils. At night there’d probably be more dangerous creatures searching for them, but the cloak of darkness made finding them more difficult. "Let’s go."

* * *

"Hello Tommy."

Tommy Stevens looked up at the voice. He recognised the one-eyed speaker as Al Lewis, a yank he’d done some work for around a year ago. And this time he’d brought company – three cracking birds and a bookish-looking older geezer. "Right Al," he nodded gratefully at the pint the American put in front of him.

"I’ve got some work for you," Al dropped onto the bar stool opposite him, the older man standing behind him, and the three corkers taking up almost sentry positions around him. "My companions need the same documentation you did for me."

Tommy gave the young American a measured look. Even through the pub’s smoke-filled haze he could see that the younger man’s air of defeat had replaced by one of purpose, his posture was straighter and his eyes noticeably more alert. Finally he spoke. "Forty thou the lot, take five days."

"No," Al shook his head. "Too long. Sixty grand for Thursday."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, briefly wondering at the urgency. "You’re having a laugh aren’t you? Eighty for three days."

Al drummed his fingers on the table between them before shaking his head. "How about this? One hundred and twenty K for Wednesday."

Tommy blinked before reaching across the table and offering his hand. "Forty grand now?"

"Deal," Al shook his hand before looking behind him. "Faith."

The brunette stunner passed him four brown envelopes from within the thickly packed sports bag she was carrying with surprisingly effortlessness. After a quick peek into the envelopes, he nodded. "Great," he stood. "You got the photos?" Al passed him four photo booth strips. "What names do you want?" he noted them down. "Meet me in here, Wednesday at dinner."

Al smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

"One hundred and twenty thousand quid!" G raged as they hurried back to the SUV they’d bought in Xan’s assumed name. "The bloke’s a sodding scoundrel!"

X-Man chuckled dryly. "The man’s a criminal G-man, what did you expect? Tea and crumpets?" Xan’s face sobered. "Yeah, we were jobbed but he does great work and if paying extra gets us to Dawn sooner…"

"Yes," G sighed. For a second Faith felt guilty for the Englishman’s haggard weariness, knowing that her outburst had contributed to it. But only for a second, it wasn’t like she’d lied or anything. "And what do you propose we do for the next day and a half?"

Faith opened her mouth to suggest finding the local demon kingpin and beating some information out of him but Xander beat her to the punch. "I’ve always wanted to see some of London – Buckingham Palace, Tower Of London, Big Ben, that sort of thing."

Faith bristled at Xander’s airy tone. "Our friends are fucking dead, some unknown evil is hunting us, and you want to go sight-seeing?" she hissed. "Are you -."

"Faith," Xander’s tone was soft but filled with an indefinable something that halted her in mid-rant. "Whoever’s after us will be combing every hotel, boarding-house, and pub in the country looking for us. We can’t just stay in one place. We have to keep moving."

"And where’s less likely for us to be than a sight-seeing tour," Faith nodded in understanding. "I get. Sorry for-."

"Doesn’t matter," Xander forestalled her apology with a raised hand. "We’re all stressed out."

Faith stared appraisingly at Xander’s broad back as the founding Scooby led them back to the car. She’d always thought of Xander as loyal, funny, and wicked brave but no so much with the smarts.

But the last couple of days had shown different. Xman was real resourceful and with G a mess her former boytoy had taken over the running of the group with an efficiency that had surprised her. For the first time she was giving his offer of being her Watcher serious consideration.

* * *

"We’re here Mr. Angel," the pale-faced pilot reported as the plane taxied down onto the privately owned airfield.

"We have reached our destination?" Illyria enquired from her position stood at the back of the cockpit.

"Yes," Angel glanced from left to right. Satisfied that the airfield was empty he turned towards the pilot. "I don’t have to -."

His eyes widened as Illyria snatched hold of the W&H employee’s head and twisted, breaking the man’s neck. "Why the hell did you do that?" he exploded to his feet. "We don’t just kill people!"

The goddess appeared unmoved in the face of his fury. "Was his continued existence not a threat to our safety? Would he not have informed on our whereabouts? Would he not have placed your son at risk? Is he not more important to you than the minion of your enemy?" Angel stared at the blue-haired woman. There were some questions that not even the best of guides could answer.

Taking his silence as assent, Illyria pushed past him. "Let us leave here," she ordered, her tone lofty. "We must immediately track down your son."

Angel smiled unwillingly. At least he’d get to see Connor soon. Although, his stomach clenched, there’d also be the ordeal of seeing a grief-stricken Dawn.

* * *

"Faith! Wait up!"

Faith glanced over her shoulder and scowled at the chubby figure hurrying after her. "X, I just want some time alone, k?"

"No it isn’t," Xander corrected as he stopped beside her as she shoved open the hotel front door open and stepped out into the drizzly night. Fucking limey summers. "Tonight madam, I’m your shadow."

"Damn it X!" Faith snarled. "I’m not gonna go psycho."

"I know you’re not," Xander replied his tone even. "It’s you I’m worried about."

Faith glanced at her unwelcome companion. "What do you mean?"

"I don’t want you getting loaded and giving yourself to some sleaze not fit to lace your boots."

Faith stared up into Xander’s eyes, rocked by the concern she saw there. "Why do you give a shit?"

Xander sighed. "Because when Buffy and Willow left because of burn-out you didn’t. You tried to help me when I was at my lowest. I’m just trying to re-pay the favour."

After a second Faith nodded and turned back to the hotel. "Wanna go back in? Maybe spend a few hours about talking about Woodie and Anya?"

"Yeah," Xander let out a rattling sigh and smiled wistfully. "I’d like that. It’s been a long time since I talked about Anya to anyone."

* * *

Agent W bounced up and down in his seat as his quarry turned back into the hotel. The genius mastermind of the nefarious global network he was now a loyal minion of had been most displeased when Faith had managed to slip the net. But now he was redeemed. "Just like Vader in Return of The Jedi or Londo in Babylon 5!" Calming himself, he dialled his mobile. "I need an extraction team stat!" He beamed as he hung up. He’d always wanted to say that. Agent W scowled as he realised he hadn’t told them where he needed the team. Sighing, he picked up the phone and re-dialled it.

Faith exploded with laughter as Xman finished the story of when Anya had thought she was engaged to Giles ‘cause of a miscast memory spell by Red. Man, Xan was a shit-hot storyteller. She trailed off in mid-laugh, her gaze dropping to the carpet.

"Faith," Xander’s concerned voice cut through her musings. "What’s wrong?"

She didn’t break from her inspection of the floor. "I..I’m having a wicked time shooting a breeze with ya X, you tell a hell of a story."

"But you feel like betraying Wood by not being miserable?" Faith nodded, just the mention of the former principal forming a lump in her throat. "I’ve spent the last year thinking like that. That spending every moment remembering Anya was like a memorial. But now…"

"Now?" Faith looked up to see an otherwise expressionless Xander wipe away a tear.

"Now I think, no I know that Anya would want me to remember her always." Her companion chuckled. "If I didn’t, she’d come back and haunt me. But she’d be," Xander grinned at her, "’wicked pissed’ at the way I’ve wasted the last year." Xander took her hands in his. "Anya, and Wood too, wouldn’t want us to be destroyed by their deaths."

"I guess," Faith replied slowly. What X said made a sort of sense. Hurt, grieve, but don’t let it become you. Kinda like something Fang would say. "But-."

Her head snapped towards the window at a faint sound on the outside fire escape. Hushing Xander to silence, she backward rolled to the other side of the bed and crept towards the window. Suddenly the window exploded inwards, showering her with glass.

Ignoring her multiple cuts, Faith sidestepped towards the window, driving an elbow into one of the two newly appeared shapes stood on the balcony while at the same time kicking the gun out of his right hand. Before her would-be attacker had time to react she had him by the throat and flung him head-first into the wall.

Only now did the other intruder begin to turn towards her. "Too late!" she crowed as she drove her foot into the man’s balls, driving him to his knees. Damn, it felt good to deliver some quality violence. Faith smirked as she slammed a downwards arcing right into the man’s face, splitting down the middle of his nose and knocking the now unconscious thug onto his back.

"Faith! On the ground now!"

Faith dropped stone-like to the carpet. Her Slayer hearing picked up the sound of something flying over her, and as she rolled onto her back as she saw an object smash into the face of another suddenly appeared attacker, knocking the stunned man back a step and over the waist-high balcony railing with a scream.

"Thanks X!" Faith bounded to her feet and launched into a spinning back-fist that smashed into the last thug’s face, sending blood splattering, and him following his companion over the railing. Faith grabbed hold of the man she’d thrown into the wall, it was past time for some answers. "Who sent you?" she screamed into the dazed man’s face.

"No time for that," Xander snapped. "What about the others?"

"Damn!" Faith threw the bleeding body out of the third floor window. Xan had a point. "Thanks for the save X. What did you throw at him anyway?"

Xander grinned. "I grabbed the Gideon bible off your bedside table."

Faith threw her head back and laughed. "Me, saved by the good book? How’s that for irony?"

* * *

Giles smiled as he heard Faith laughing in the room opposite. It was a beautiful sound, and one, Giles grimaced, that thanks in large part to his own actions, he’d heard all too rarely in the past. But that would change, he silently vowed. No matter what it took, he’d make it up to her.

His scowl deepened as he thought of the mayhem enacted. All those innocents murdered, and yet it was more even than that. It had taken bloody hard work to re-build the Council, finding those worthy of being Watchers, rooting out the rotten apples, putting new laws in, re-building the library, and finding the Slayers. He didn’t know if he had the energy to do it again. And yet it seemed he had little choice.

His train of thought was interrupted by a thudding on the hotel’s thin outer wall. Eyes narrowing and mouth drying, he reached for the .32 concealed beneath his pillow. As his finger closed around the automatic’s handle, his room’s window burst inwards and two men rappelled in.

Calling on skills he hadn’t used in well over two decades, he quickly aimed and fired off two shots into each of the intruders’ heads even as he flung himself to the floor. He watched in horrified fascination as blood flew out of the back of his attackers’ skulls, their bodies jerking spasmodically on their jumplines. Rolling to his feet, Giles raced towards his room door. And was hit square in the face when the door flew open.

* * *

Rona looked across to her fellow Slayer laid on their room’s other bed. "You heard that?"

"The glass breaking?" her best friend nodded as they both bounded to their feet. "You check on Giles, I’ll see to Faith and Xander."

"K," Rona nodded before hurrying to the door.

* * *

Vi cursed as she entered the corridor and turned towards Faith’s room only to see half a dozen armed men charging up the stairs. She dropped into a forward roll that took her to the landing linen cupboard. Springing to her feet behind the heavy wooden furniture, she lifted it away from the wall, turned, and flung it over the ornate railing. She grinned as she watched the makeshift missile crash into the troops, knocking them over like bowling pins, the sound of their shattering bones and pained screams sweet music to her ears.

* * *

"You broke my bloody nose!" Giles glared up from his knelt position on the ground, blood dripping down his face.

The black Slayer stood in the open doorway pouted. "I was coming to see if you needed help!"

"I was fine! Was," he muttered as the dread-locked Slayer dragged him to his feet.

"Maybe you should add a section to The Slayer’s Handbook about checking for hidden Watchers before kicking in doors."

"Yes Faith," he shifted his glare to the newly arrived denim-clad Bostonian stood smirking behind Rona. "Very amusing." Secretly he was pleased to see something of the old swagger back in Faith. "Is anyone hurt?"

"Just them. What’s the plan Xan?"

Giles was briefly surprised and hurt that he’d been supplanted as group leader. Comforting himself that at least it meant the former convict was listening to someone, and that it aided him with his long-term plans, he listened to his son’s reply. "Down the fire escape and to the SUV." Xander paused. "That’s why I said park the car four blocks away. If our cover was blown they’d be less likely to also find and either sabotage or bug it."

"And we go to another hotel?" Vi asked.

"No," Xander shook his head. "We’ll drive for a while and park up somewhere and sleep."

"Oh joy," Giles muttered.

"What’s up Tweedy?" Faith smirked. "Getting too old to enjoy spending the night with three hotties?"

"Hardly," Giles bristled at the suggestion before ruefully smiling. "It’s just I had the misfortune of spending several weeks sharing a room after Sunnydale with Xander and his snoring is no-one’s idea of fun."

"Hey!"

* * *

Connor glided soundlessly through Rome’s hushed streets, a somewhat less stealthy Dawn clinging to his hand, an experience that he silently admitted had its attractions. He stopped, his sudden halt causing his companion to bump into him. "At least tell me when you’re going to stop!" Dawn hissed in his ear.

Ignoring the girl’s admonishments, he wondered idly if this was what his dad had gone through when dating her sister, he looked around, his senses tingling. "Vampires near-by," he whispered.

"Where?" Dawn’s heart began to pound.

"Oh," Connor’s mouth dried when a tall straggly-haired vampire stepped out of the shadows, followed quickly by another ten or so of his kind. "I think you’ll find we’re near-by." The demon morphed into his true face. "Kill the boy, and," the monster smiled, "after we’ve played with the girl, our orders are to kill her too."

Connor reacted instantly. His free hand snatched Dawn’s newly bought sports bag off her and flung it at the lead vampire. The packed bag crashed into the unprepared demon’s face, knocking him to the ground, and leaving a gap in the ring of vampires surrounding them. Taking advantage of the slight opportunity offered to them, Connor pulled Dawn through the gap, expertly staking the stunned demons to the left and right of the space as he went.

They’d barely got thirty yards when the vampires’ leader reacted. "Get them!"

"Faster!" Connor ordered as they sped around a corner, the demons in hot pursuit.

"I can’t," Dawn gasped. "Leave me."

"Not going to happen!" Connor retorted, his heart sinking even as he spoke. On his own he could probably escape, but with Dawn accompanying him he didn’t have a chance. He spun round a corner only to stop in his tracks when faced by a nine foot tall brick wall. He spun round to the alley opening. "Dawn, get over the wall. I’ll hold them off."

"No," Dawn’s voice trembled. "I left Buffy, I’m never running again."

"How noble," the group’s leader mocked as he led his remaining companions into the alley. "It makes me all-."

"Six words and I can’t stand you already." A cold voice cut in from behind the massed demons. "However, you I’m going to let live. At least until you’ve answered some questions."

* * *

"Who the fuck are you?"

Angel stared at the demon before replying. Upon arriving at his son’s last hotel room he’d tracked him across the ancient city by scent. "They used to call me Angelus," he shrugged. "But I prefer Angel these days." His smile broadened at the other vampires’ alarmed faces. Sometimes it felt good to be feared. "Illyria don’t kill that one," he nodded towards the demons’ apparent leader. "I’d really like to talk to him."

"Understood." The goddess nodded before charging forward and driving her fist through the nearest vamp’s chest. "But the others?"

"Oh," he blocked a straight right on his forearm before retaliating with a butt to the face and a knee to the groin. "I’m leaning towards," he thrust a stake through his adversary’s heart, "killing them all."

"Excellent." Illyria tore another demon’s head off.

Angel side thrust kicked a vampire in the stomach doubling it up and leaving it open to a stake through the back. Seeing his son moving into the fray, he called out. "No Connor!" he stepped inside a right hook to his body before cracking an uppercut into his rival’s jaw, staggering him. "Your priority is Dawn, stay with her!"

Another demon grabbed him from behind in a half-nelson. Reacting instantly, he dropped to his knees, snapping out a heel that caught the demon on his shin, sending him stumbling backwards even as Angel rolled to his feet. His rival roared furiously before charging him. At the last second he side-stepped the on-rushing demon, leaving his stake behind for his adversary to run onto.

Angel spun around to face his next opponent only to find all the vampires bar the leader were dust. He glanced at Illyria to check that she had the vampire restrained before turning to Dawn. "They killed her!" the youngster’s face hit him in the chest as the sobbing girl ran into him. "They killed Buffy."

"I know Dawn." Pushing aside his own sense of loss, he embraced the girl. "But you’re safe now, we won’t let anyone hurt you." He was vaguely amused to catch the faintest scent of jealousy from his son when he hugged Dawn. Obviously Connor also had a thing for Summers women. Like father, like son.

"What do you wish to do with this half-breed?" asked Illyria.

"Yeah," Angel gently guided Dawn back to Connor before turning to regard the vampire, his eyes flickering golden. Memories of Angelus’ last stay in Italy assaulted him, making him sick to his stomach but also giving him an idea. "We passed a church two streets back, let’s head there."

* * *

"I understand you have disappointing news?"

Agent F swallowed at his superior’s disapproving tone. "Yes sir," he shuffled nervously. "The extraction team failed to capture her or injure any of her companions. Seven of our agents were killed and four injured."

The older man waved away that piece of information as if it was unimportant. "And we’ve had no further sightings?"

"No sir," he shook his head.

"OH BUGGER!" His boss surged to his feet. "I need that little slapper to control the Slayer Line!" After a second the red-faced man slumped back in his chair. "And I understand a W&H plane was hijacked?"

"Yes sir. We’re not sure who-."

"I am," his boss snorted. "Angel. Who else would have the balls to steal from Wolfram & Hart. The only question remains was he alone or accompanied. And how goes Stage 2 of our operation?"

Thrown by the sudden change of subject it took him a few seconds to regain his focus. "We should have preliminary reports by tomorrow."

"Good." The older man’s glare froze his blood. "I do hope those are rather more satisfactory."

* * *

"I’m leaving on a jet plane. Don’t know when I’ll be back again."

Faith glanced at her singing companion with mixture of amusement and irritation. "You seem awfully cheerful X," she commented.

"Just an act Faith," Xander replied. "I hate flying. Just singing to myself to keep distracted."

Faith nodded. "Know what you mean X. I hate giving away control too." She guessed that came from her abusive childhood. Ever since she’d been called she’d revelled in the control being a Slayer had given her. Being in prison, having to take orders, had been wicked tough but at least if any prisoner or guard had tried to take liberties she’d had her powers to fall back on. But if a pilot fucked up or the plane broke down, her powers wouldn’t help her.

Resisting the urge to shudder as thoughts of fiery death assaulted her, Faith turned back to her companion. "Xan," she smirked. "I’ve got a wicked way of keeping you distracted."

"Oh yeah?" Xander raised an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"Try picturing me in one of those stewardesses’ outfits." Her chuckles at Xander’s reddening died as she considered their next move. Italy, Fang, and Dawn next. Maybe they’d get some answers there. God she hoped so.

* * *

Angel’s demon cowered as Illyria tore the church’s double doors open. Ignoring its’ whimperings, he turned to Connor and Dawn. "Stay in the porch," he ordered. Seeing Connor’s mouth opened in protest, he interrupted. "Neither of you need to see this. Only come in if there’s trouble. Okay?" his son nodded reluctantly. "Good." He smiled at Dawn. "We’ll just be a couple of minutes."

His face morphed into its demonic visage as he followed Illyria and their wailing captive into the church’s nave. "I’ll tell you – arh!"

He back-handed the vampire to the ground and quickly placed his heel on his fellow demon’s throat. "I know you will," he replied. "Problem is," you might be lying. Unless you’re given an incentive." He looked around. "Illyria, get me those crosses off the altar will you?"

"I do not follow your orders half-breed. I am a god!"

Angel counted to ten as he shot the blue-haired woman an irritated glance. How Wes put up with her he had no idea. "I can’t pick them up can I?"

Illyria nodded. "Very well, I will do it."

"Thank you," he turned to the demon struggling under-foot. "Women eh?" His smile disappeared. "Which brings us to Angelus’ last Italian visit. I was building an army of vampires to take out the local underworld boss. I always was an ambitious vampire. So," he shrugged. "I turned this bare-knuckles fighter, good-looking and he knew it. You know how it is. Although," he looked down at his less than handsome captive and grimaced, "maybe you don’t. Anyway, back to the story. I found this bastard in bed with my Darla." Angel shook his head. "Now I’m an easy-going vampire, but there’s some things you can’t let slide."

"You talk too much," commented the goddess as she returned holding a pair of ornate silver crosses.

Angel forced a smile at Illyria’s comment. Oh yeah, Wes definitely had the patience of a saint. "Just setting the scene. So, as I was saying, an example had to be made. Anyhow," Angel looked around. "I broke into a church a lot like this one and had my minions nail him to a cross." He glanced at his blue-haired companion. "If you wouldn’t mind?"

He’d barely finished speaking when Illyria had the vampire pinned against the cross at the front of the church, smoke coming out of its back as it screamed. Another half-second and the blue-haired woman had shoved the crosses through the shrieking demon’s palms, nailing him there.

Ignoring his own queasiness at the demon’s screams and stench of its burning flesh, Angel strode over to the front pew and tore one of its legs off. "After that, we emptied the font of its water, tore the cross off from the wall, and threw it and the demon fixed to it into the back of a cart. We took it back to our hiding place, threw him out in the grounds, poured the holy water on him, and watched him scream until sunrise. ‘Course I’m not going to let you live, but I can make your death fast," he raised his makeshift stake. "Or slow. But it depends on you answering a question?"

"Anything!" the vampire screamed.

Angel walked until he was just inches from the prisoner. "Who ordered you to hunt Dawn down?"

"The Immortal! It was the Immortal!"

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