A/N: If anyone thinks I’m bashing the show’s creators here, damn skippy. The only time I’ve seen anything as characterisation and plot illogical on TV as Angel and Wes hiring Harmony in Season 5 of Angel was the entire cast of Buffy joining the lead in going bimbo in Season 4 of Buffy by deciding that Spike’s safe to keep around because he’s got a chip in his head made by the ever so efficient military of the good old US of A. You shouldn’t force a plot to get one of your favourites on-screen, if it doesn’t make sense for them to be there, don’t use them!

Montreal, Canada

The girl’s breath came in desperate pants, sweat pouring down her denim-clad body as she ran through Montreal’s mazy back-streets. She knew it was unwise, but couldn’t stop herself from shooting looks over her shoulder. Every time she looked there wasn’t any sign of her pursuers, but she somehow knew they were there.

She stumbled around a corner, clumsily bouncing off the rough-bricked wall in her haste, knocking over and almost falling over an over-flowing trash can. Her heart jumped as the trash can crashed to the ground, its clang echoing in her ears.

Her eyes widened when one of the mystery men stepped out of the darkness, sewn-shut eyes staring at her and glyphed blade gleaming in the darkness. Marie let out an inarticulate wail as she feinted left and then twisted right.

Her world tilted as her foot slipped on something underfoot, pitching her to the ground. Her head crashed off the concrete, pain exploding through it. The last thing she saw was a blade slashing down towards her.

* * *

"Shit!" Faith sat upright in bed, sheets falling off her as she awoke from her Slayer Dream, chest tight and throat dry. Dream? Faith laughed hoarsely. More like a fuckin’ nightmare. Her eyes narrowed as she recalled the very similar dream she’d had after Das Tier had beaten the snot outta her. Two dreams ‘bout the same knife-men, that was never gonna be a good -.

"Shit," she repeated as she glanced at the clock by her bedside, all thoughts of knife-men fleeing when she realised she’d overslept and on her first day at W&H.

Faith shook her head as she leapt out of bed, grabbed her towel and headed towards the bathroom. She still hadn’t got her head around G’s plan, and the others who didn’t even know it were even more unhappy and just goin’ along with everything ‘cause of loyalty.

It was gonna be a hell of a day.

* * *

"Hey G, nice office. How come you didn’t wake me ‘fore goin’ out?"

Giles looked up and smiled as Faith dropped into the seat at the other side of his desk, uncomfortable yet professional in her black trouser suit. "The herd of elephants you were snoring suggested it was best to leave you to your own devices."

"Funny guy," Faith’s dimples briefly showed, then her eyes hardened. "I had that dream ‘gain, you know the one with those Bringer guys."

"Oh," Giles’ brow creased, his cheeks clenching as he grimaced. That was worrying. True they had the resources of Wolfram & Hart behind them now, but even so, against the First Evil….

Deciding a change of subject was their best option, he leaned over the desk. "Your fellow Slayer and her Watcher are scheduled to arrive today, together with a number of Potentials."

"Right," Faith affected unconcern, but Giles knew his charge better than that. After Tegan it was hardly surprising that Faith would be leery about having another Slayer around, he only hoped Faith’s wariness would not end up fuelling a self-fulfilling prophecy. "So you decided who’s doin’ what?"

Giles smiled, that had been a time-consuming task, employing logistics, strategy, and diplomacy in roughly equal measure. "You will of course be in charge of our Elocution department-."

Faith’s dimples made a brief showing. "Good call."

"I am of course going to be the Head of Operations-."

"Yes sir!" Faith mockingly saluted.

"I’ve decided Cordelia will carry on her previous position as my PA," Giles chuckled and shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Unbelievable, personnel tried to send me down a vampire for the job!"

"Yeah," Faith snorted, "’cause after six years fighting the bastards we don’t know how untrustworthy, ruthless and downright sneaky vampires are. See here," Faith tapped at the side of her head, "lobotomy scar right there. What do they think we are ‘tards?"

"Precisely," Giles nodded.

"So the geniuses who tried to send this vamp to spy on or kill us, are they human?" Faith queried.

"Not quite," Giles shook his head. "A Joss Whedon and Marti Noxon signed off on the assignment. I checked our records, they look human, but they’re actually Necrofans, demons with a slavish desire to serve vampires. As they can go out in the day without any problem, some vampires use them to run errands etc."

"’Kay, in that case, don’t just fire them, set them on actual-." Faith raised an eyebrow at his grin.

"Already done," he chuckled before continuing. "Wesley is of course the head of the Linguistics & Demonology department. Lorne gets the Entertainment department. I’m going to put Rona and her Watcher in charge of training the Potentials, while I’m going to appoint Willow and Tara to the R&D department."

Faith’s forehead creased and her eyes narrowed. "Not the Occult Research department?"

Giles shook his head. "No, given Willow’s foolishness at times with magic, I thought it unwise to expose her to yet more temptation."

"Yeah," Faith nodded, "I can see your point. What ‘bout me?"

"We’re of course going to continue patrolling, however given our expanded responsibilities, I thought you, Xander, and Gunn would simply continue doing that."

"Ooooh," Faith cooed breathlessly, her long eyelashes fluttered playfully, "two strong men of my own, you do know me Daddy!"

"Ha, ha." Giles returned Faith’s play-acting with a wry smile. "In addition, they will make sure our own security within W&H is secure. Including of course being circumspect about just what we say and do where ears could well be listening in." Giles’ smile disappeared. "I’ve been examining our client files."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." To any other eye than his or perhaps Xander’s, Faith would seem disinterested, casual even. But he saw the slight narrowing of her eyes and the tensing in her shoulders, and felt the air around her vibrate with the danger of a predator readying themselves to strike. "They can be split into a number of categories. Legitimate businessmen who probably have no idea just who they’re dealing with. Crooked politicians and businessmen who at the least know how unethical W&H are, if not their origins. Crime bosses who likewise are fully aware of W&H’s methods if not their genesis, and humans involved with the supernatural, mages, necromancers, and the like. In addition, there’s demons, not all of whom are evil, some simply have no choice but deal with W&H as the pre-eminent law firm aware of and dealing with supernatural."

Faith’s mouth opened to comment, but before she could speak, his office’s glass doors swung open and a tall, broad-shouldered man with a square jaw and expressionless eyes strode in. Giles rose from his seat, eyes narrowing as he glowered at the interloper. "I’m reasonably sure this is my office. Only members of my team can enter without knocking."

"Of course," the man’s brief flash of teeth was in Giles’ estimation, utterly insincere
"Never happen again. Just wanted to, you know, see put your faces to your names." The man glanced to Faith. "And what a face yours is. Thought you’d be bigger though given your reputation."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Heard the sayin’ ‘the bigger they are, the harder they fall’?" Faith queried, a shark-like grin tugging at her full lips. "Skyscraper?"

The big man chuckled, but Giles noted the coldness didn’t shift from his eyes. "I’m Marcus Hamilton your liaison to the firm. I'll help you find your way through the messy labyrinth that is corporate politics and our operating practices."

Giles exchanged a perplexed look with Faith. "Who do you answer to?"

"The senior partners, and if you're thinking that you can use me to get to them, let go of the dream. I answer to them. I don't lunch with them." Hamilton replied. "Let me tell you how this works."

"I thought I-," Giles amended what he’d been about to say when Faith coughed meaningfully, "we were in charge."

"Of the Sunnydale office of a multi-dimensional corporation. Now, I'm stressing that last word because that's what we are." Marcus commented. "We're a business, and we have a bottom line. Now, you could take your new client list and start hacking away from the top down. A lot of our clients are demons, and... almost all of them are evil."

"So I’ve noticed," Giles steepled his fingers as he glared at the seemingly impervious bureaucrat.

"You can shut this place down, but then you wouldn't have it anymore, its resources disappear. If the place closes down, the connections dry up. Evil goes next door, to another city or another state. This is the catch, in order to keep this business running, you have to keep this business running. And that means keeping your clients—most of them, anyway happy."

"Means letting them get away with stuff," Faith commented.

"Honey," Hamilton took a step closer to death by smirking condescendingly at Faith, "they were getting away with it while you were all sitting around your detective agency waiting for the phone to jangle. Well, you're on the ins now, and you can stop the worst of it. Maybe find some new solutions to some old problems." Marcus’ grin widened. "Isn’t this exciting? The most powerful evil around has given a pivotal position over to its sworn enemies. You're not scared, are you?"

Faith snorted derisively as the man strode out. "Oh he’s gonna a whole barrel of laughs."

* * *

Xander rose as a dreadlocked teen black girl strode into W&H’s well-lit lobby, a powerfully built black man by her side, and a gaggle of teen girls behind her. Guessing this girl had to be the other Slayer, he rose and walked over to her, a welcoming grin on her face. "Hey," he greeted, "you must be Rona. Pleased to meet you. I’m Faith’s boy-friend-."

The girl didn’t take her hand, instead sniffing. "Yes, I’d heard she had friends. People weigh you down."

Xander’s smile became rather more forced. "You can’t argue with results."

"She died twice," Rona stonily replied. "That suggests a couple of pretty big screw-ups to me.."

"Come Rona," the black man placed his hand in the small of the dark-skinned Slayer’s back. "If we must be here, we should at least check out the resources."

"Oh that was warm and friendly," he muttered. "Makes me pine for the days of Tegan Austin-Meadows."

* * *

Even if he hadn’t read Corbin Fries’ case file detailing his prostitution of under-age illegal immigrants, he wouldn’t like the man on sight with his sleazily handsome features and way of looking at Faith like he was deciding how much she’d cost. "What’s the problem?" Wesley queried.

"Here's the skinny: Tomorrow the D.A. puts my tit in a wringer for good and all, and that... does not stand with me." Fries pulled on his doubtless very expensive but staggeringly tasteless snake-skin jacket.

"Because you're guilty." Giles said, his tone expressionless.

"Of course I'm guilty," the pimp scowled. "What the hell are you changin' the subject for? The point is, when Holland Manners was running things, this would've never got to trial. Now, I bring a lot of money into this firm, more than most, and I don't do that so I can be handed over to the frickin' law." Fries pointed at Faith. "You, no you," his finger turned to him, "get me off."

"You can’t imagine my lack of incentive," Giles replied.

Fries sniffed. "You think I give a crap about your new regime here? Yeah, I know who you are, and I care to the sum of zero. You're my lawyers. And if you don't do every last thing to keep me out of jail, you will regret it."

"Let me explain something," Giles felt ice form as he smiled at the gangster. "We don’t kill witnesses not anyone else. We don’t enchant or tamper with juries."

"So this one has to be won on the merits of the case," Wesley finished for him.

"You are doing jack!" Fries snarled. "I am not gonna be made an example of. Either you get me off tomorrow—."

"I think you should calm down," Faith said in that all-too calm voice of hers.

"Babe," Fries leered at Faith, "you can get me off right now." Fries turned back to him. "To hell with calm down. Either you get me off, or I drop the bomb."

Wesley and Giles exchanged looks. "Bomb?"

Fries’ smirk widened. "Let me put it this way: If they bring in a conviction, bye-bye, California. I say the magic word, the only people left standing are gonna be the ones that are already dead."

* * *

"Blow everybody up?" Willow gasped.

Faith shrugged. "Well, he said "drop the bomb." We don't know what that means."

"We might, if you hadn’t knocked him out!" Giles reprimanded.

"He’s precisely the sort we should knock out," Faith defended.

Giles sighed. "We need to find out about this bomb and somehow disable it in case that jury comes in with a conviction."

"We think it may have some mystical element," Wesley commented. "Just before Faith knocked him out Fries said, "I say the magic word." He could mean exactly that.
Which is my department. We also think it probably isn't an explosive. This isn't the sort of man to risk his own life. So that could mean more magic—."

"Or it could be a virus, Ebola kind of thing," Tara said. "This place holds the patent on several nasty biological weapons."

"Right." Giles nodded. "The main thing is, any of this stuff could've come from right here. The lawyer working on Fries’ case says he doesn't know anything, and I believe him."

"Why?" asked Tara.

"He's terrified." Wesley supplied.

Lorne nodded. "This place seems to breed fear. If it came in neat little packages, this place could sell more units than the Beatles sold records!"

Giles turned to the demon. "Lorne, you're in the courtroom. Monitor the case. Let us know how it's going."

Lorne’s eyes widened. "But lunch with Mary-Kate... She was gonna tell me about Ashley's new piercing."

"Be flexible," Giles ordered.

"Oh, I got Spanky's address," Cordy passed Faith a note.

"Spanky?" Xander raised an eyebrow. "A new fetish you’ve been holding out on me?"

"You wish." Faith laughed. "Freelance mystic. He's showed up in Fries' files a few times. I'm gonna do some legwork."

"Darn," Xander half-smiled. "Need a lift?"

"Not this time," Faith smirked.

* * *

The elevator bell pinged as its doors opened, Faith rushing out into the dark basement garage. Her eyes widened as she saw the row of classic sports cars from every decade.

"Givin’ all this speed to a girl my age, just ain’t responsible, I tell ya." Faith squealed in delight and rushed to a midnight-black Trans-Am.

* * *

The door opened to reveal a greying guy with a decent build wearing a sweaty tank top and grey cotton bottoms. "Hey baby," the man leered at her, "you just about made my day."

"Yeah, great," Faith flipped him a business card. "I'm here from Wolfram & Hart. Here about a job."

Spanky beamed. "Well, then get your butt in here. Pardon the sweaty. I was working out. Uh, you want a drink? I got a pitcher of daiquiris."

"I'm good, thanks."

Spanky nodded. "Looking at your ass, I'm about to be better."

Faith raised an eyebrow as she walked in. This guy was even more obsessed with her butt than usual-, Faith came to a halt, the penny dropping together with her jaw as she stared at the wall filled with paddles, canes, crops, and whips. "Hmm. So tell me...
why do they call you "Spanky"?"

"I think we both know the answer to that, honey."

Faith sighed. "That's what I figured." Why oh why couldn’t she have sent Harris and Gunn instead.

Spanky sipped at his daiquiri. "So how about you pick out what you wanna be spanked with, then go into the lounge, drop your pants, and bend over the couch?" Spanky smiled. "I’ll even charge you half-price."

Faith snorted. Yeah, like that was gonna happen. "Strictly business I’m afraid," she affected a disappointed note. "But I’m here about a job. The one you did for Corbin Fries."

Spanky’s eyes darkened. Yeah? I don't discuss my old jobs. Mystic-client privilege."

Faith shook her head. "You're gonna tell me what you did for Mr. Fries. Now or very soon from now."

"Babe, I ain’t telling you shit," Spanky glared at her. "Now get outta here ‘fore you get a spanking whether you want it or not."

"Yeah?" Faith lunged forward, grabbed the man by his throat and flung him into the wall opposite the S&M toys. Spanky hit the wall with a thud and slid down it, a dazed expression on his face. Faith grabbed a paddle off the wall. "You know, you gotta a whole lotta of bones in your body, I’ve got no problem breaking each and every one of them to get some answer." Faith smirked as Spanky began to talk. And Giles said she hadn’t the delicate touch needed to handle workplace negotiations.

* * *

Willow and Tara sat on their office floor, working through the papers strewn over the floor. "This is going to be bad," Tara shook her head. "They’ve done work on half of the biological weapons out there. What sort of people are we working for?"

Willow’s mouth opened, but before she could speak, their assistant, a short, self-effacing man with floppy black hair by the name of Knox burst through the office door. "Found it!" he proclaimed. "We did do some work with Fries on illegal pesticides, rodent killers, but the guy who did the work was fired for working under the table, doing jobs on the side for an apocalypse cult, The Black Tomorrow, who specialise in viruses and plagues."

Willow snatched at the suddenly ringing phone.

* * *

"Department of—."

"Hey Red," Faith interrupted.

"Faith, yeah. It looks like our client might be playing with a virus. Spread by touch or maybe even airborne."

"I’ve found out where he’s put the bomb," Faith replied. "Tell Gunn and Xan to meet me at Spanky’s. It’s road trip time." Faith paused. "Oh and tell them to bring everything we’ve got on a demon called Deevak."

* * *

"Okay," Tara watched as Willow hung up the phone. "I’ve gotta go see Giles, you’ll be alright here."

"I’ll be fine," Tara lied as her girl-friend rushed out. The floor was full of 8"x10" glossy photos of victims of deadly Ebola-like germs and diseases, pictures that were terrible to look at, but impossible to tear your gaze from.

"Yeah, I'd say we're looking at a retrovirus. Spread by touch. Some derivation of the phonaya strain," Knox continued.

Tara stared at the slimly little geek. "Are you sure?"

"Couple more tests."

"Well are you running them?" Tara demanded.

"I'll get someone on it." Knox replied.

Tara’s temper did something incredibly rare, it snapped. "Don't get someone on it, have someone on it. Did we build this thing? Do we have an antidote? Do we have an Antidote Department? Or do you only build these nightmares?" Tara jabbed a finger into the scientist’s chest. "If this thing goes off, I’ll at least die with the comfort of knowing that I'm dying with the only people in the world that actually deserve it! Now get your ass out of here and get your evil minions working!"

* * *

"Hey," Faith greeted as Xander and Gunn pulled up outside Spanky’s apartment in a blood-red Mustang, "nice wheels."

"Right back at you," Xander grinned.

"Yeah," Gunn agreed, "black looks good on you." The African-American winked. "But I’ve tried to tell you that ‘fore."

"Damn Chuck, you sound almost as sleazy as Spanky," Faith’s grin disappeared. "How about Deevak, what ya got on him?"

"He’s a demon who runs a car ring and extortion racket on the south side of LA," Xander replied. "But here’s the interesting thing, Fries’ accounts show that he’s made payments of twenty thousand a month for two years to Deevak’s shell company for no apparent reason."

"We’ve got the reason now," Faith commented. "Asshole’s Fries’ insurance policy."

"What’s the plan?" Gunn queried. "Chop the demon into lil pieces and bomb goes poof."

"Pretty much," Faith replied.

"And you’re sure he wasn’t lying?" Xander queried. "That killing him will destroy the containment?"

"Babe," Faith purred, "the moves I was puttin’ on that asshole, he didn’t have the nerve to lie."

* * *

Courtroom

Lorne shook his head as he watched Fries’ trial, starting slightly as Wes dropped into the seat beside him. "Giles sent me to check how things are going?"

"Let’s just put it this way," Lorne talked out of the side of his mouth, "our guy’s no Perry Mason."

Wesley winced. "How long do we have?"

"The defence is trying to draw proceedings out, but the judge is knocking back every motion," Lorne replied. "We haven’t got long, maybe even before the verdict, Fries might be a lot of things, but he ain’t dumb. He's dead meat, and he knows it."

* * *

"This is the place?" Faith peered out of the car window at the dirty looking garage\car lot.

"Yeah," Xander confirmed through his cell.

"’Kay," Faith nodded. "I’m gonna do the babe in distress thing, I want you two to sneak ‘round the back while they’re distracted by my sleek lines."

"Don’t you mean the car’s?" Gunn’s voice crackled through the line.

"You’re gettin’ way too cocky, Chuck," Faith warned as she continued to look through the shadowy entrance.

* * *

Giles shook his head as he rifled the notes on his desk, unable to concentrate on anything but the thought of the city and maybe the entire state being destroyed. He looked up at a knock on his door. "Hello?"

"It’s Willow and Tara," the red witch called.

"Oh ladies, please come in." He rose as the two witches entered then sat back down.

"We’ve got the lab techs on track for an antidote, but it could be days," Tara reported.
"Same with removing the mystical container, I'm afraid. If we could get them to suspend the trial—."

"No," Giles interrupted with a sigh, "according to my last report, the trial is winding up, Rumpole of the Bailey couldn’t work his magic on that."

Willow nodded. "Then maybe a spell-."

"NO!" Giles let out a panicked roar, then shook his head and lowered his tone. "The magics involved in such a spell would be incredibly difficult to create, and would need a considerable amount of time to set up, not to mention would be seriously draining." Giles shook his head. "Faith or the law’s vagaries are our best bet now."

* * *

"Whoo! Hooo! Look at that fine fox!"

Faith hid a grin as a quintet of what looked to African-Americans but her senses told her were in fact demons spilled out of the grey-walled portakabin at her arrival. In seconds the five were surrounding her, oblivious to anything other than her and the car. "Nice car honey," the shortest of the five strutted up to her. "What’s a cutie like you doin’ in an area like this?"

Faith smiled as she saw Xander and Gunn climbing over the wire-mesh fence behind the oblivious quintet. "Kicking your ass," she replied with an uppercut to the jaw that sent the small black sprawling in the dust. Faith stamped down at the black’s chest only for her rival to roll away and up to his feet.

"Shit," Faith’s eyes widened as the rising demon morphed into its true self, a hulking seven foot blue skinned monster in a red robe. Faith leapt up into the air, catching the demon with a single-footed heel kick to its thick chest.

Faith landed in a feet-apart crouch, knees slightly bent to lessen the impact. The demon staggered but didn’t fall, instead responding with a clumsy back-hand that might have taken her head off if she hadn’t ducked under it and charged in close. The muscles in her biceps writhed as she swung the tyre-iron she’d hidden under her leather jacket under-arm up and into the demon’s groin.

The demon’s alien face seemed to blanch as it doubled up and staggered back, Faith bringing the tyre-iron down hard on the back of the creature’s skull, her tyre-iron smashing through its head, and dropping the demon dead.

* * *

Courtroom

Wesley strode back into the courtroom and sunk back into his seat besides Lorne. "Any word?"

Lorne leaned into him and muttered. "Does Fries look like a happy camper?"

Wesley grimaced as he took in the gangster’s glowering face. "Guess not."

The district attorney was giving his summing up. "Calling witness after witness, each less credible than the one before..."

"This is endgame, baby," Lorne muttered. "You’ve got a plan, right?" Wesley opened his coat to give Lorne a glimpse of the automatic in his holster "Oh, and here I thought we were desperate." Lorne’s red eyes narrowed at his sudden smile. "What is it, Wild Bill?"

"Fries can go to hell for all we care," Wesley tapped his earpiece. "Giles just sent me a message, Faith took care of the vessel."

* * *

"Hey Giles, burnin’ the midnight oil?"

Giles smiled as his adoptive daughter sauntered into his desk-lit office. "Someone has to," he retorted. "You never studied at school, so one has to pick up the slack here."

"Hey when you’re as smokin’ as I am, there’s always a guy who’ll do my homework for me," Faith arched an eyebrow as she dropped into the seat opposite him, "bit disturbing when it’s you though, Pops."

"Well done with Deevak," Giles replied.

"Hey, smash and slice," Faith winked. "Should have been my college majors." Faith’s eyes narrowed. "One thing though."

"Oh yes?" he prompted when Faith fell silent.

"That Hamilton guy worries me," Faith replied. "I wanna know exactly what a Liaison is."

Previously on Faith The Series:-

"I shall look upon my enemy!"  The instance the witch raised a finger, Giles was moving.  "I shall look upon her and the dark place will have her soul!"  His weight caught Faith in the side, knocking the Slayer to the side and into the pole holding up the mirror above them. "Corsheth, take her!"  The spell leapt from Catherine's hands – only to be reflected back by the descending mirror, the spell enveloping the screeching witch before disappearing in a roar, taking her with it. 

* * *

Midnight’s black shrouded his men as they crept through the ruined school, their flashlights pointing left and right as they searched the rubble for what was their third night. It seemed to be an impossible search, but no-one had quite gathered the nerve to tell their employer that.

Which basically meant that they were here until she hopefully got bored with the search.

He looked down when his boot clinked against something, his eyes widening in disbelief. "How lucky is that?" he muttered as he crouched down and tossed the top of the trophy cabinet aside. He’d finally found it. He looked at the rubble that the cabinet had been leaning against, they’d had to shift that, but if they were lucky, the cheerleading statue their employer had demanded would be found.

* * *

"Hey!" Faith greeted as she saw Rona heading towards the elevator lobby. "You’re Rona, right? I’m Faith. Sorry I haven’t introduced myself ‘fore, but things ‘round here get hectic. You’ll find that out ‘fore long."

"Oh right."

Rona looked disinterested, but Faith decided to try anyway. "So have you started training the Potentials yet?"

"Already begun," the other Slayer stiffly replied.

"Cool," Faith nodded. Clearly she was going to have to do the lion’s share of talking. "Gym here is pretty wicked. These Potentials are really lucky getting to work first-hand with a Slayer. Anyhow, I was thinkin’ of the sort of trainin’ you should give them."

"Oh yeah?"

Still with the ‘tude. "Yeah, I was thinkin’ they need a real spread of martial arts, Sambo, Ju-Jitsu and Aki-Jujitsu for the blocks, joint-locks, and throws, and Muay Thai and Jeet Kune Do for kicks, knees, elbows, and punches. Also maybe some Escrima, ‘cause with the wooden sticks it’s kinda ideal for vampires. ‘Course with them being weaker and slower than the average vamp, it might also be a good idea to give them a grounding in archery as well."

"If it’s alright by you," Rona said as the elevator pinged and its doors began opening, "I’ll train them myself, I wouldn’t want them to," Rona stepped into the elevator, turned, and pressed the ground floor button, "pick up any bad habits."

"Any bad-." Faith shook her head, eyes narrowing. Damn, she’d wanted to connect with another Slayer, be friends with another girl like her. "I am gonna have to do somethin’ ‘bout her."

* * *

Faith was still steaming when she burst into G’s office, intent on turning the air blue with an avalanche of complaints about her fellow Slayer only to stop when she belatedly realised her friends and one unexpected but very familiar face were all there.

"Look!" Cordy pointed excitedly at the Sunnydale alumni as she practically bounced up and down on the spot. "It’s Oz! After all these years! Oz!"

"You know," Faith drawled with an amused look at her best friend, "that bouncin’ is real wasted ‘round here, but I’m sure there’s a strip club who’d be interested."

Cordy pouted. "Well if there’s anyone who’s expert at having dollar bills shoved in their g-string it’s you."

"Sides," Gunn put an arm around the receptionist’s waist, "my girl’s bouncing is never wasted."

"Now the bawdry is over with," Giles cut in with a long-suffering sigh. "Can we please return to Oz’s problem?"

Faith smirked before glancing to Oz. "What’s the word?"

Oz didn’t look his normal tranquil self, instead his eyes seemed to blaze with a sort of quiet intensity. "My cousin Jordy, the one who infected me, has been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?" Faith raised an eyebrow. As an explanation it was a little light on details.

"We were living in Tibet with monks, meditating to control our demons when helicopters arrived, stole Jordy."

"Why?" asked Willow.

"According to what I’ve found out," Oz paused. "There’s a club based in California who specialise in exotic meats."

"Oh good lord," Giles and Wesley said in unison, both Englishmen turning green.

"And they’re gonna spit and roast a kid?" Faith shook her head. "Jesus, I’ve heard of some sick stuff." Faith looked towards the Englishmen. "Ideas?"

"We have a Dr. Royce on staff, he’s an expert cryptzooloigst," Wesley said. Faith’s mouth opened in a question. "An expert in animals commonly believed to be legendary or non-existent. If anyone would know about such clubs, he’d be our best bet."

"What are we still doin’ here then?" Faith demanded. "Come on."

* * *

"Kinda crazy to find you working for the axis of evil," Oz commented as they walked through the skyscraper’s polished corridors.

"Axis of evil?" Xander queried. "Bit current affairs that."

"I watch TV, occasionally read a paper," the werewolf replied. "Besides, being a werewolf I hear things. Wolfram & Hart, really?"

"Yeah," Xander sighed. "Some of us aren’t sure about it either."

"Why are you here then?" Xander just grimaced in reply. Oz nodded. "What I figured."

They all climbed into one of the elevators, Faith jauntily husking. "For the last time Chuck, just ‘cause your girl’s a frigid biatch, don’t make crowded places a licence to grope."

"Well if you didn’t make a habit of grinding your butt against everything with a pulse," Cordelia sniffed.

"Ah," Giles sighed, "workplace banter."

When the elevator opened, they spilled out onto the fourth floor and walked up to an office with a bronze plaque on it denoting ‘Dr’ Royce’. Wesley knocked on the door. "Dr. Royce, it’s Mr. Whyndhm-Pryce."

"Come in sir," the door opened to reveal a tidy office with a round-face, balding man wearing glasses sat behind a desk. "Oh," the man’s blue eyes widened as they all poured in. "You’ve brought the management staff, I’m honoured." The eyes bobbed left and right, flitting from face to face, never really settling. "How can I help you? Settle an argument regarding the difference between a cryptid and a demon?"

"Nothing like that, Dr. Royce," Wesley said. "A friend," Wesley nodded towards Oz, "has had a relative abducted by a group he believes eats cryptids."

"Oh, oh," Royce looked alarmed. "Not my cryptids, that’s a monstrous idea. They’re far too rare." Royce shook his head. "I’ve heard of small groups of people who eat certain species of cryptids, but an actual dining club? There are paranormal hunting groups that hunt for sport, but they just kill not eat. Of course there’s also those who exterminate non-humans on principle, the Danites, the Vatican, that sort of crazy. But eating them?"

Giles nodded. "Well thank you for your time Dr. Royce, most appreciated."

Faith shook her head as they exited Royce’s office, closing the door behind them. "Jeez, even for this place he’s one shifty dude," Faith commented. "He had to know something, he was lyin’ through his teeth."

"No Pear-drop," Lorne patted Faith on her shoulder, "I read him together with the rest of the senior staff as per Giles’ teeth when we first got here. He’s just the shy type, doesn’t react well to crowds."

"What’s the next step?" Oz almost growled.

"I’ll check W&H’s computer records," Willow volunteered. "If this club does exist, there might be some information about it in our extensive archives."

"Wait?" Xander found himself asking. "I’ve got a question, what is the difference between a cryptid and a demon?"

* * *

"Okay," Willow leaned away from the computer, "that’s weird."

"Have you found anything?" Oz asked, the guitarist’s normal Zen attitude having been replaced by an impatience that worried Giles, not only did impatient people make mistakes, they had less control than normal of their emotions, something that could be fatal at the best of times. And this time of the month certainly wasn’t the best of times for a werewolf.

Willow nodded eagerly. "Oh yeah, there’s vague details of a highly exclusive dining club called Deluxe Pasti going back several decades. What’s strange is Royce should know about it, it’s in his area of expertise."

"Where is the club?" demanded Oz.

"It’s not as simple as that, the club’s membership is top secret and its location too, or its mobile, the records aren’t clear," Willow replied. "But it is related to the disappearance or culling of cryptids going back forty years." Willow’s eyes narrowed. "Oh, now that’s just downright suspicious."

"What is?" Oz commented.

"It appears that over the last dozen years, files relating to cryptids have been emailed out of here to an unknown location on no less than sixteen occasions-."

"Unknown location?" Giles queried. "Doesn’t an email have a sender’s address?"

"Yes," Willow nodded. "But it’s just an email address, not a physical address, it’ll take time to track down the physical address."

"Then by all means begin," Giles prompted.

"One more thing, although none of the messages come from Royce’s terminal, they all come from terminals on his floor," Willow commented.

"Damn, he’s not only stealin’, he’s lazy when he does it," Faith shook her head in disgust.

"Or someone’s trying to frame him," Lorne commented. "I tell you, I read him induction week. If he had any under the table business going on, I’d know."

"It doesn’t hurt to be thorough," Giles decided before looking towards Wesley. "Wesley, pick out some obscure demons and cryptids, then call Royce on the pretext of double-checking their classifications." Giles looked towards his daughter. "Faith, once Royce has been distracted take Xander and Oz and search the office."

* * *

"Oh, oh, oh." Faith’s eyebrow arched as she found an empty vial in the bin and lifted it out. "Royce likes the drugs."

"Really?" Giles’ voice buzzed through her ear-piece, you really had to give it to W&H, they had some great toys. "What sort of drugs."

"Um," Faith turned the vial sideways so she could read the label, "Umaliw."

"Umaliw?" Now it was Lorne’s voice crackling over the earpiece. "The doc played me for a fool. Umaliw’s a demonic opiate that’s sometimes used by criminals with the right connections to fool polygraph tests. In theory it could also fool me."

"Then he’s our man," Faith concluded as she dropped the vial back in the bin. "Let’s find Royce and break a-."

"No," Giles interrupted. "I think it’s safe to assume nothing will happen before Royce is present at the club. Unless Willow manages to track down the server before that, we’ll wait."

"But Jordy-."

"If Royce misses a scheduled call-in Jordy will almost certainly at best be moved to a location Royce has no idea about and at worse be immediately killed," Giles interrupted Oz’s protest. "Willow and Tara will stay here and work on the computers, Lorne, I want you to tail Royce in the build-."

Faith heard rather than saw Lorne’s pout. "I had dinner with Brad Pitt-."

"Really?" Cordy interrupted with a squeal. "I’ll go in your place-."

"Hell no," Faith shook her head, "I have first dibs!"

"Girls," Giles sighed, "please, please, control your hormones and try and inject a little professionalism into your conduct. As I was saying, Lorne will tail Royce in the building, but when he leaves, we’ll do a three car tail, Cordelia and Gunn in one, Faith, Xander, and Oz in another, and myself and Wesley in the Bentley-."

"I’m driving," Wesley chirped in.

"As you wish," sighed Giles. "Meanwhile Willow and Tara will work the computer angle."

"You okay with this?" Xander looked towards Oz. "I mean it’s a full moon tonight."

"I control the wolf, not the other way around."

Faith raised an eyebrow. Yeah very Zen. It might even be true on a normal full moon, one where the guitarist wasn’t worried about his lost cousin. But this was nothing like a normal full moon.

* * *

"’Okay," Willow’s excited voice crackled through their earpieces, "I’ve finally tracked down those emails’ destination, its ‘The White Walls’, that huge mansion on the outskirts of town."

"Huh, ‘kay," Faith exchanged looks with Xander before glancing towards Royce parking outside that very house, "you get that Giles?"

"Indeed I did, intercept Royce before he reaches the house."

"On it," Faith leapt from the still moving car, rolling across the road to spring up behind the parking car. The moment Royce climbed out of his car, Faith was by his side, her arm looping around his neck to choke him out. "You ever wanna breathe again, you do ‘xactly what we say, you dig?"

* * *

Classical music played in the background as a gagged Jordy was wheeled out on a cart, garnished with kale, peppers, and carrots, into a crowded room full of applauding black-tie guests. The maitre D’ stepped out. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming together on such short notice. We have a very rare and special treat for you tonight, a child were who has never fed. Moonrise is in 15 minutes. Shortly thereafter...dinner will be served."

* * *

The waiter peered through the small window, smiling slightly when he saw Royce staring back at him. The moment the door began opening, Gunn barrelled through the entrance and clotheslined the waiter to the ground.

"Crane's not gonna like this," Royce whimpered.

"I’d worry more ‘bout what’ll happen to you if the boy’s dead," Faith darkly warned.

"He has to be alive, at least through dinner. Once a werewolf dies, it reverts to its human state," Wesley commented.

Everyone blanched. "You mean, to eat werewolf, they got to eat him alive?" Xander shuddered. "And just when you thought this couldn’t get any yuckier."

The maitre ‘d stopped in front of them, his eyes fixed on Royce. "Evan, you've brought guests."

"We're just here to pick up a friend," Faith said.

"And to pick up some Sasquatch soup." Everyone looked at Wesley who shrugged. "What can’t I pun?"

"Evidence suggests not," Faith snarked as she snatched up a silver platter and used it to backhand the chef to the ground.

Oz rushed over to Jordy. "They garnished you?" Oz broke the cuffs with an urn. "Listen to me. Tomorrow you're gonna be home."

Faith groaned as men with guns approached. "It would have appear we’ve hit a snag," Giles commented.

"We're not leaving without the boy," Faith stared at Crane.

"I'm willing to let my men die. Can you say the same?"

Faith threw her head back and laughed throatily. "Seriously all the heavy artillery means shit. Anything kicks off, you’re my first target."

Suddenly Jordy leapt off the table, morphing into a werewolf as he did so, crashing to the ground beside Royce, his jaws latching onto the cryptzoologist’s calf. "Ahhhh!" Blood jetted from the doctor’s lower leg as he buckled to the ground.

"No!" Oz crouched in front of the young werewolf, his nose pressed against the were’s snout. "Change back." The were growled warningly.

"Oz, do you really think this is a good idea?" Xander queried.

Oz’s gaze didn’t shift from the werewolf’s burning orbs. "Change back." The moment the werewolf changed back, Oz scooped him into his arms. "I’ve got you cous."

Faith looked towards Crane. "This is the part where we take our friend and go."

The maitre ‘d sniffed and smirked. "I'm afraid not. Tonight may not be salvageable, but my guests have paid a high price. And I promised them a werewolf."

Faith shrugged and looked towards the weeping doctor, his hands clinging to his bloody calf. "And a month from now, you'll have one."

"You’ve got to take me with you!" Royce pleaded, eyes widened in horror.

"Hey," Faith shrugged, eyes hard. "You can’t save everyone. Sometimes you gotta know when to fold ‘em." Faith looked towards Crane. "Just so you know, tomorrow, this house is gonna be gutted. Be gone or be dead."

* * *

Faith sauntered into Giles’ office, a taut expression on the beautiful brunette’s features. "Xander and Cor are takin’ Oz and Jordy to the airport." Giles nodded. "Um," Faith pursed her lips, "I’ve organised for me and Rona to have a fight tonight."

"You’ve challenged Rona to a fight?" Giles roared. "I know you’re a Slayer, but do you have to solve all your differences with violence?"

"Hey," Faith protested. "I’ve tried playin’ nice, but that bitch is so brain-washed by the Council doctrine ‘bout me bein’ a rouge, she won’t let me in. All we’ve done doesn’t matter, I’ve gotta show her who’s top dog."

"I hesitate to mention this, but what if she wins?"

Hurt flickered in Faith’s dark eyes. "Hey, I’m the one who slayed Lothos, the Master, Kakistos, Sunday, James & Elizabeth, and all the rest. Yeah, I had help, but I’ve been doin’ this for seven freakin’ years."

All at once Giles realised his mistake. "Faith, I didn’t mean to doubt you, I was just conc-."

"Be there or don’t, but tonight I teach Rona a lesson." Before he could say another word, his daughter had stormed out, a betrayed look on her face.

* * *

Faith strolled into the brightly illuminated gym, noting with a secret grin that her friends had joined the Potentials, Wood, and Rona. Good, she always worked better with an audience. Her smile widened as she noticed Giles hovering behind them, a concerned look on her Watcher’s face.

The gym itself was far better than anything she’d ever worked in before, thousands of feet at the far end were taken up by aerobics equipment, stationery bikes, row-cycles, step-machines, and treadmills. Then the middle was taken up with gleaming muscle-building machines – lat machine pulldowns, pec-dec machines, leg presses, leg extensions, hamstring curls, hack squat machines, seated bench presses, and other machines besides. Then the near end, the end where everyone was sat was filled with rows of hardcore heavy dumbbells, girder-iron power racks, and bench presses.

Where she was stood on the other hand had exercise mats on the floor, and heavy bags and speed balls hanging from the ceiling. Skipping ropes, boxing gloves, and sparring mitts were neatly stacked in one corner. Oh and a spandex short and sports bra wearing Rona. "Are you getting changed?" the African-American Slayer impatiently demanded.

"Nah," Faith took off her denim jacket and tossed it to Xander, "you can’t get dressed up for a real fight, just bring it."

"Okay," Rona smirked as she charged in with a heel kick to the face.

Faith swayed to the side, throwing out an elbow at her fellow Slayer’s head only for the black girl to pull her head forward, her blow flying overhead. "Whoa!" Faith leaned back at the waist as the girl swung a roundhouse at her jaw.

The two of them sprang away and began circling one another. Faith smirked as she saw an impatient flicker in her opponent’s eyes, then the younger girl was leaping forward with a right cross, Faith slapped away the attack while driving a right hook into Rona’s midsection.

Her punch crashed home, air exploding from the African-American’s mouth as she half doubled up and twisted away, pain etched on her face. Faith jumped in with an uppercut to Rona’s bent-over face.

"Shit," Faith stumbled over her fellow Slayer’s hastily stuck out leg, staggering past her adversary. "Shit!" Faith gasped, her back arching as Rona caught her with a back-heel hook kick. Faith spun around in time to block a kick to her face on her forearm while retaliating with a left hook to Rona’s jaw.

Rona slapped her blow down while hooking at Faith’s head, Faith ducking onto that blow, Faith pulled her head out of the way of Rona’s follow-up uppercut, the African-American’s movements almost a blur. Suddenly a thrust-kick was coming at her chest, Faith brought her forearm down hard on her rival’s shin, knocking the blow away as she leapt into a knee to the gut that drove her rival back a step, a pained gasp escaping her rival. Despite her distress, Rona managed to parry a left jab, but not the right hook that followed it a quarter-second later.

Her blow snapped Rona’s face to the side, but Rona responded with a backfist that cracked into Faith’s mouth, blood flying from it. Faith stumbled back, blocking a left hook on her forearm and right upper-cutting to her rival’s jaw. Rona’s head snapped back, then she fell onto her shoulder when Faith leg-swept her feet from her.

The girl rolled up and leapt at her, a haymaker pummelling through the air. Faith grabbed the African-American’s arm as it swung in and fell backwards, bringing her feet up and into the black’s midsection, sending her fellow Slayer flying over her and to the ground. Faith was still in mid-air when she reversed her fall, kipping up and spinning round to face her downed opponent.

Faith went for a stomp, but the moment Rona hit the ground she was rolling back up and out of the way of her attack. Rona sprang back in, leading with a right cross that Faith ducked under and a left backfist that crashed into her eye. Faith staggered back, blocking a knee on her forearm, her other hand grabbing the strap of Rona’s bra, twisting at the waist and flinging her away. Rona grinned at her. "How’s your eye?"

"Got two," Faith smirked back, "can still see you to kick your ass."

Faith dropped to one knee under a roundhouse kick and took the opportunity to hook into her fellow Slayer’s crotch. Her fellow Slayer greyed and muttered an inarticulate groan before dropping onto her back. Faith straightened and turned to the Potentials, wiping away the blood dripping from her mouth as Wood rushed over to his downed Slayer. "That’s what it is to be a Slayer, train hard and train smart."

Caridad stared open-mouthed around the vast, illuminated lobby. This building was so big, so modern, a world away from her Puerto Rican origins. Yet it also was, according to her Watcher, one of the bases of the most dangerous, most evil power in the world.

"There’s already some Potentials here isn’t there?" commented Annabelle, a preppy blonde English girl.

"Four. Vi, Colleen, Shannon, and Amanda," commented Molly in her trademark Cockney chirp.

"Ever since the Council was bombed Mr. Giles has been moving all the Potentials here," said Annabelle. "I wonder if we’ll meet any of their gang."

"Oh bloody hell yeah," Molly said. "My Watcher had plenty to say about them -."

"Then I can only assume that your Watcher wasn’t English or a gentleman." They all turned to see a dark-haired bespectacled man with two days’ stubble on his chin sauntering towards them from the left. "Because English gentlemen do not indulge in gossip. You ladies are Caridad, Molly, Annabelle, and," the Englishman towards their Oriental companion, "Chao-Ahn?" The Oriental nodded, the Englishman stumbled through a few sentences of what sounded like Mandarin before looking around. "Your Watchers chose not to accompany you?"

"They, um, resigned," Shannon replied. "They gave us our fares over here and walked away."

"Disappointing." The man grimaced. "I’m Wesley, Wesley Whyndhm-Pryce."
Caridad’s knees trembled, the way he said it was almost as cool as watching James Bond introduce himself. "In addition to you four girls, and the four Potentials already here, we are expecting some more." Wesley smiled at her raised hand. "Yes, Caridad?"

"Where will we be living, sir?"

"Just Wesley," the man corrected. "Accommodations have been provided in one of W&H’s outlying buildings. One of the advantages to this arrangement is their security, a security that individual Potentials didn’t have under the previous regime. Now if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the gymnasium so you can meet Rona." Wesley glanced towards Molly. "Yes Molly?"

"Will we meet Faith?" the Cockney breathlessly asked.

Wesley chuckled. "Doubtless your paths will cross at some point."

* * *

"Come on Cole," said Franklin as they crept through the tunnel, the dirty water sloshing underfoot as their helmet torchlights illuminated their way through the murky, foul-smelling passageway.

"I don’t like it, I don’t like this at all," the afore-mentioned Cole grumbled.

"I wish Harris and Gunn were with us," Sheridan muttered. "Nothing flustered those two boys."

Allan snorted. "Having a pair of amazons for girl-friends probably did wonders for their nerves."

"I hear you," agreed Franklin. "Both those boys were punching way above their weights there."

"What happened to them anyway?" Sinclair queried.

"I always dreamt they took up a career split between mud-wrestling and nude modelling." Everyone stopped and looked towards Allan. "And of course you meant Harris and Gunn, not their-."

"Once we’ve managed to stop projectile-vomiting," Sheridan shuddered. "I heard some Englishman took over at that big law firm and employed-."

"Didn’t realise either of them had law degrees," Cole commented.

"Yeah, I don’t -." Sinclair halted and turned. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what-." Franklin’s blood congealed at a sound like a grizzly’s rumble coming from around the corner. "Okay," Franklin licked his dry lips, "let’s back outta here-."

A monster with a basketball player’s height and a linebacker’s shoulders came around the corner. But it was the monster’s snarling face rather than its immensity that caused Franklin’s legs to tremble. The thing’s face was waxy grey and covered with creases, pointed elf-like ears, squashed flat nose, dead eyes, and most disconcertingly a mouth filled with shark-like teeth.

And then it was charging them, its hands ripping, tearing, their screams deafened by its gleeful howls.

* * *

"Hey, Corwin." Xander greeted as he walked into the dimly-lit, barely above sanitary regulations bar, pushing his way through the crowd. "Long time no see."

Corwin grinned. "I wasn’t the one who’s girl-friend got him a fancy job that took him away from all of us blue-collar types."

"Hey, hey," Xander held up his hands at the jibe, "ceasefire!"

"Just kiddin’," Corwin smiled tightly. "How are you and Gunn doin’ in the glossy world of high-powered lawyering?"

"It’s not as glossy as you’d think," Xander dryly replied. Working in an office surrounded by various sundry demons and the scum of the earth soon paled, and he’d been sceptical about the move from the off.

"That’s good, ‘cause I might need you back, I just lost five men in," Corwin paused then grimaced, "well they’re calling it an accident but hell’s if I know."

"Wait?" Xander’s Hellmouth radar went off. "You lost five men?"

"Yeah," Corwin nodded. "It was last night, Franklin, Sinclair, Sheridan, Allan, and Cole were doing an inspection of one of the old tunnels. When they didn’t come back, I sent Welch and Keffler down there to investigate." Corwin shook his head, eyes shadowing, and the temperature in the busy bar seeming to drop a few degrees. "It was a total mess, blood soaking the walls, body parts everywhere, they were big guys, and they had spades and pick-axes to do work with, they should have been able to protect themselves, but the thing was like a whirlwind with knives, ripped them apart."

Xander leaned forward. Yeah, this was definitely Hellmouthy. "Where exactly?"

* * *

Faith glanced to Giles as Xander finished his report. "Sounds Hellmouthy, wanna me to check it out?"

"I think that would be wise," Giles agreed. "But as we don’t actually have a sighting of this thing I would advise caution."

"Right," Xander nodded. "I’ll tell Gunn, get him to grab his axe."

"No way," Faith shook her head. "I like having you havin’ my back when we’re vamp hunting, or when we’re goin’ after a demon we actually know about, but a mystery demon that might have any goddamn power?" Faith shook her head again. "I ain’t down with that."

"I’m inclined to agree," Giles nodded.

"Hey, we’re not exactly rookies here!" Xander protested even as Faith nodded smugly.

Giles glanced towards Xander. "Not rookies no, but according to the police reports, this thing destroyed five healthy men without picking up the slightest injury, it would injudicious to send you and Gunn in there without knowing what you’re facing Should it be something Faith can’t handle, she can for example retreat far quicker than she could if either you or Gunn-."

"Oh yeah," Xander shot her a scathing look, "she’s known for her rapid retreats."

"Were with her." Giles’ gaze turned to her. "However I do think you should take Rona." Faith’s heart dropped as she slapped her forehead, her mouth opened in protest, but Giles beat her to it. "Faith, whatever is in these tunnels is unknown and exceedingly dangerous, I cannot in good conscience allow you to go into those tunnels on your own. In fact," G’s eyes bored into her, "I forbid it."

"You’re not the one who has to put up with her damn ‘tude," Faith mournfully muttered.

* * *

Rona watched the back of her sister Slayer as they both padded through the dark, dank tunnel. She’d largely bought into the Council propaganda of Faith being a foul-mouthed, undisciplined thug who’d gotten by on luck. At least that was what she’d thought until they’d actually fought. It was different now though, Rona hadn’t fought many vampires before arriving in Sunnydale, but none had hit like Faith, moved like her, or kept on coming like she did when she hit them.

Then there were her Watchers. Wood was all very proper and stitched back, the perfect Watcher, but he lacked the edge of the seemingly politely studious Giles and Wesley. And then there was Gunn and Xander, both hunks, but also bad-asses who’d hunted more demons than she had. The only one that seemed remotely as described was the snobby Chase girl, but then she’d fought with the others from the beginning of their legend.

Yeah, all in all she was startin’ to think that all that Wood and the Council had tried to teach her about the Lehane gang was bullshit.

She suddenly realised Faith had stopped, the east coast native dropping into an animalistic crouch. "What’s up?"

Faith held up a palm and shook her head, the older Slayer’s face tightening. "Can’t you feel it?"

"Feel-," her irritated voice trailed off as the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and her skin pimpled. Suddenly her heart was pounding and sweat dripping off her as her stomach hollowed. "What is that?"

"Don’t you recognise that?" Faith hissed in disbelief then shook her head. "’Course not, you’ve not fought any really old vampires-."

"I killed the LaFitte brothers and Mysterious Dave Mather!" she hissed.

"Come back when you’ve killed vampires over a thousand years old," Faith shook her head, her eyes suddenly narrowing. "No, that’s not right. They don’t feel like-."

Faith’s voice trailed off when an ogre-sized creature barrelled around the corner, its growls leading the way. The thing’s hideous face and soulless eyes made Rona tremble then stiffen. She was the Slayer, let it be afraid of her.

"What we need to-," Faith’s eyes snapped to her as she raced around the back of the older girl, "damn it Ron!"

At first Rona covered the ground between her and the monster in long, easy strides, the dirty water splashing underfoot. Then time seemed to slow as her heart-rate increased. A desperate cry was on her lips as she dived forward, the monster grabbing her by her throat and flinging her into the wall, her head crunched into the damp stone, sliding down it with a groan.

Then Faith flowed into the picture, the older girl going high with a roundhouse kick to the monster’s face, the beast stepping back a step, then lunging back into action. Rona gasped as the monster threw an impossibly fast haymaker, its hand the size of either of the Slayer’s head. Then the brunette was under its attack, her stake crashing into its chest.

Rona’s eyes widened when Faith’s stake splintered on the creature’s wagon-sized chest, Faith’s eyes dropping open in almost-comical surprise. "Oh shi-," blood flew and the older Slayer spun like a top when the monster caught her with a backhand.

Somehow though, Faith stayed upright, sheer force of will keeping her upright under a follow-up fist to the forehead. Then the Slayer swayed left to right, then darted in with an elbow to the side of the beast’s head, then back-flipped to where she was struggling upright. "Can you run?" Rona stared wide-eyed at the monster then winced as Faith’s palm crashed against her cheek. "Can you run?" Rona nodded. "Then move it, I’ll be a second behind." Rona burst back out towards the exit, the sounds of the beast’s roars echoing around her as she looked over her shoulder to see Faith throw her short sword into the creature’s shoulder, turn and race after her.

* * *

Faith held an icepack to her forehead as she talked, Rona doing the same with the back of her head in the chair opposite. "See," Xander said as she concluded, "you did need me."

"Little less smugness there boytoy," Faith turned her head and glared at her boyfriend. "And I hate to burst your bubble, but that thing was like Master-powered, ‘cept without the nice table manners, no way you’d had made much more than a crunching noise when he tore through you."

"You said the vampire felt like the Master?" queried Giles.

"And Kaiktosis, Lothos, all the really old vampires I’ve fought, not the young uns though."

Faith’s heart dropped as Wesley walked over to Giles, a book in hand and a grave expression on his face. "Oh good lord," if she’d been a good Catholic girl, Faith would have crossed herself at the stricken look that crossed Giles’ face when he looked at the book. "That’s bad, very bad."

"Don’t keep me in suspense G," Faith affected an unconcerned tone even as her heart raced. "What’s the 411?"

Giles looked up and turned the book towards her, flashing her a painting of the creature that had attacked them. "Is this beast the one?"

"That’s ol’ George Clooney," Faith half-smirked. "Real charmer with the ladies."

"Hey, he lets them live, not like those guys," Rona grunted.

"As you guessed what you fought was a vampire, but something more. It was a Turok-Han. As Neanderthals are to human beings, the Turok-Han are to vampires. Primordial, ferociously powerful killing machines, as single-minded as animals. They are the vampires that vampires fear. An ancient and entirely different race and, until now, I thought they were a myth."

Xander broke into the silence that followed Giles’ grim explanation. "Wow, well I’m inspired."

Giles shot Xander a scathing look. "They lack the vampires’ human intelligence and are unable to blend into society, being closer to the demon that possesses a dead human, they are unable to take human form, although they can turn humans. However, in all other ways, they are their descendant’s better, more durable, faster, and stronger-."

"Yeah, yeah," Cordy broke in, "I’ve got a nail appointment at six, cut to the chase, how does Slay-girl kill them?"

Faith shot her best friend a grateful look, not at all fooled by her mention of a nail appointment. Cordy had just wanted to shut Giles up before he completely devastated her with a description of the demon’s prowess. "In theory a staking should work, however their chest muscles and sternum are far far more durable than your normal vampires. They have more resistance to sunlight than a normal vampire but will still be burnt up by it, however religious symbols and holy water won’t affect them-."

"How come?" Gunn queried.

Giles shrugged. "I don’t know, but my best guess is they sufficiently pre-date organised modern religion for it to have no effect. What does have an effect is decapitation."

Wood spoke suddenly. "And what about the possibility of there being more one of these Turok-Hans?"

"And just when you thought Giles was the depressing one," Xander muttered.

"No," Giles shook his head, "if there was more of them we’d know."

"The city would be in chaos," Wesley dolefully agreed.

"That’s a hell of a note," Faith tossed the icepack down and rose, Rona following suit, "Xan, we got a couple of grapple-guns around the place?"

"In this place?" Xander grinned. "What do you think?"

"Have you got a plan?" Wesley queried.

"Beginnings of one," Faith replied.

* * *

"You clear on the plan?" Faith queried as they stopped at the tunnel entrance.

"Are you sure this’ll work?" Rona replied with a nervous nod.

"One way to find out," Faith peered into the dark hole. "You sure you know how to handle the grapple gun?"

"Point and shoot, nothing hard about that," Rona replied.

"Just remember that when your hands are shakin’," Faith grunted, "take the left side, two steps behin’ me, and this time don’t move ‘fore I say so."

Rona nodded silently before following her into the broodingly dark hole, the only sound their footsteps splashing in the dirty water beneath, its foul stench filling their wrinkling nostrils. Faith slowed suddenly, a half-second later and Rona sensed it too, instinctively following her sister Slayer pressing into the wall. Then she saw the monster’s silhouette and it was charging them. Her arm snapped up, grapple-gun aiming. "You fire that ‘fore I say, and that big ugly bastard will be the least of your worries," Faith warned. Sweat glistened on Rona’s brow as the monster raced towards them. "Now!"

Rona’s finger tugged instinctively on the grapple’s gun’s trigger. The grapple gun bucked powerfully in her hand, the enhanced recoil enough to break a normal human’s wrist. The foot long spear flew out the gun’s barrel to crash into the left side of the beast’s midsection, a quarter of a second after Faith’s s project buried itself deep into the monster’s right shoulder.

The Turok-Han’s pained roars filled the tunnel as it staggered under the blows’ impacts. "Now!" Faith yelled as she leapt into the attack, her naked sword flashing brightly in the tunnel’s grim darkness. Rona steadied herself as she lunged at the creature’s knees while Faith went in high.

The monster roared as her blade cut deep into its thigh, its baleful gaze dropping to her, making her instinctively flinch, a primordial fear filling her. The Turok-Han’s meaty fist caught her in the back of her head, knocking her to her knees, a quick roll to the side taking her out of the attack’s way.

Faith’s blade came in fast, but not fast enough, the demon staggering her with a haymaker to the jaw, the blow knocking her off balance, her blade slicing the creature’s shoulder rather than its neck. Faith staggered as another haymaker thudded into her right cheek, blood flying from her mouth. Before the Slayer had chance to recover, the Turok-Han had her by the throat and was flinging her into the wall.

Rona’s eyes widened as rather than hit the stone head-first, Faith twisted in mid-air and hit the wall feet-first, bouncing off it to slice her sword through the back of the creature’s neck and out of the front, the creature exploding into dust as Faith landed in a crouch besides Rona. "You did good, kid. Kept your nerve, now let’s get out of here."

* * *

Marcus Hamilton strode into the Black Thorn boardroom. Most would feel fear in such august company, but while he felt a tinge of wariness, he answered to a higher level, beings that out-ranked even these powers. "The Slayer defeated the Turok-Han," Izzerial commented.

"Yes," Marcus nodded. "But we have footage of her in action. She is resourceful, gritty, and adaptable. We have other resources we can use against the Slayer should the need arise."

"And our misdirection project continues apace. That should distract the Slayer," Cyvus Vail commented. "I’m particularly pleased with my work in it."

* * *

Catherine Madison gasped as she erupted from the golden cheerleading statue and crashed to the floor, sweat pouring off her body as her muscles screamed their release. Her eyes widened as they fell on the woman stood before her, hatred and recognition raging through her. "You!" she hissed, eyes widening in disbelieving recognition.

"Me," the woman equably agreed. "It’s been a long time since I saw you, but I need a teacher and I thought you’d be-."

"Teacher!" Catherine screamed in outrage, stored up power flowing out of her to attack the younger woman. "How dare you!" She gasped as all her fury and rage crashed uselessly against her rival’s shield. Her body shook with the effort, muscles aching with lactic acid as she poured on the magic. Her eyes widened when she realised her attacks weren’t even cracking much less breaching the shield. Just as she realised her rival couldn’t be defeated, magic flowed from her adversary and into her, bombarding her from every angle, forcing her to curl into a ball. "Yes, yes," she screamed until her voice cracked. "I’ll do it, yes, yes, anything!"

"You’ll teach me then?" Her tormenter’s tone was all sweetness, but Catherine sensed the steel behind it, and knew if she didn’t obey, more pain would follow. Unable to summons the will or energy to speak, she nodded mutely. The other witch giggled. "Oh good, I do so much look forward to learning."

String music played in the background while light glinted off the chandeliers swinging over head, suited waiters scurrying around in the background. Gunn smiled at his girl-friend sat opposite him, resplendent in an off-the-shoulder sequined black dress. "Nice place, huh?"

"Better than the burger joints you usually take me to," Cordy’s perfect teeth flashed briefly in the restaurant’s half-light. Cordelia’s smile wavered. "But I liked them too."

"Yeah," Gunn glanced at his steak, his appetite dwindling. "We couldn’t afford to eat like this when I was just a construction worker."

"Hey," Cordy reached across the table and squeezed his hand, "you were never just anything." Cordy shook her head. "I can’t believe we’re working for Wolfram & Hart, it’s like I haven’t moved on any from the old materialistic me who didn’t care where the cash came from."

"I don’t believe that," Gunn shook his head. "I don’t care how bad you were before Faith came to SunnyD, working for W&H would never have sat easy."

"Yeah," Cordy leaned back in her chair, "and yet it’s because of Faith we’re working there now."

There wasn’t a lot said after that.

* * *

"Ah, Faith," Giles greeted as she strolled into his office, a balding man in his late forties\early fifties sat opposite her Watcher. "This is Magnus Bryce of Bryce Operations." Faith stared blankly at her father, yeah ‘cause it meant something to her, like she read the business pages.

"Of course you've heard about the software, the cable network, - that's all a front," Bryce said. "The family money comes from wizardry.  My great-grandfather created our first spell in his garage, a simple tallness illusion.  Now it's all custom designed work for people with the right money. You see someone big in Hollywood with looks and talent and chances are either I or one of my competitors provided them."

"However this business is a very cut-throat one," Bryce continued. "I have a lot of enemies, industry rivals. For example, Paul Lanier, his firm's in wish-granting.  Scary little euro-creep. And there are others. Briggs over at Consolidated Curses."

"Yeah, well that’s fascinating," Faith lied, it was anything but. "Only we’re not in the business of killin’ your business rivals for ya." Faith glanced at Giles, brow furrowing. Suddenly she wasn’t quite as sure as she once had been about what they would or wouldn’t do. "Or are we?"

"No!" Giles threw up his hands. "Of course not. Someone is threatening Mr. Bryce’s daughter, a someone he believes is one of his rivals."

"Rrrrright," Faith’s gaze returned to Bryce.

"There have been letters and calls.  Twice we have caught intruders inside the house."

Faith shook her head, somethin’ ‘bout this didn’t make any sense. "But you're a powerful wizard.  You must know protection spells."

Bryce nodded.  "I know dozens.  Used them all.  These guys are in the business too, they know all the tricks."

"So you want me to be your daughter’s body-guard?" Faith queried.

"She doesn’t look very strong," Magnus eyed her speculatively for far different reasons than normal , "can she bend a steel bar in her hands?"

"Yeah, ‘cause I’m a circus freak," Faith shot Giles a bored look. "Look, if Daddy Warbucks don’t want my help-."

"Fine, fine!" Magnus threw his hands up. "I’ve been a client of this law firm for a long time, and I’m expecting payback for all the money I’ve paid you."

Faith ignored Bryce in favour of looking towards Giles. "You settin’ the others on investigation?"

"Wesley’s checking records and such like while Gunn and Xander are ‘taking it to the street’," Giles replied.

"Look at you talkin’ the lingo, you’re so damn hip," Faith looked towards Bryce. "We gonna to meet your gal?"

* * *

"Nice place," Faith commented as Bryce led her into a four storey, whitewashed house in Sunnydale’s most upscale neighbourhood.

"Our place in LA is larger, unfortunately with W&H re-locating to Sunnydale, I was compelled to follow suit," Bryce stiffly replied before leading her into a bedroom furnished and decorated in a mish-mash of Oriental styles with a ringlet-haired red-head with green eyes and a ton of ‘tude lying on the bed. "Honey, we have a guest."

"Daddy dear," the red-head sniffed. "If you’re going to hire an escort, can’t you at least spend enough money for a high-class one?"

Faith raised an eyebrow and snorted. "Oh yeah, I’m real motivated to stop harm comin’ to the princess."

Virginia rose off her bed, her green eyes mocking as she looked towards her father. "This is the protection? Seriously."

"She’s the Slayer," Bryce stiffly replied. "I know you never paid much attention to your occult studies, but you know who she is."

Virginia sniffed. "Looks like the biker bar’s dregs to-uggh!"

Faith picked Ginny up by the throat. "See you’re not bein’ nice. My best friend at school was a rich bitch like you, but she had some stones to back it up, you not so much. But I’m here to do a job, so I think it’s best if we don’t communicate, you dig?" Faith dropped the girl on her bed and glanced over to her father. "I wouldn’t exactly say she’ll be safe, but she’ll live."

"As you wish," the man backed out.

Faith dropped the girl on the bed. "You have a lot of books.  You must spend some time in here."

Virginia shrugged.  "Well, there have been threats for a long time.  Every time there is a new one - I buy a book shelf."

"Rusty," Faith tried for her most reasonable tone, "we're both stuck here.  So it seems to me I might as well do what he wants me to do and do my best to protect you."

Virginia smirked.  "You think you're the right woman for the job?"

"You gonna fight me?" Faith smirked as Virginia rose.

"No," Ginny shook her head. "Let's go shopping."

Faith groaned. "Oh my favourite activity in the whole damn world."

* * *

"Ah Wesley," Giles looked up as his fellow Watcher strode into his desk-lit office. "Have you made any progress with the Bryce case?"

"Some," the younger man settled into the seat opposite. "I’ve looked into the details of the past attempts on Ms. Bryce’s life, and there are definite links to Paul Lanier."

Giles pursed his lips. This was such tawdry stuff. Given the sordid reputations of Bryce, Lanier, and Briggs, he couldn’t care less if all three firms slaughtered themselves. However it was the innocents who got hurt in the fall-out that concerned him. "Take Gunn and Xander to see Mr. Lanier. Impress on him how much W&H disapproves of his attempts."

"I’ll organise something for tonight." Wesley rose. "Any news from Faith?"

Giles shook his head. "Nothing."

"Well she only needs to hold on until tomorrow, by then everything will be over," Wesley replied.

* * *

Faith strolled into the store a step behind her charge. Her eyes widened as a waiter rushed up to them and gave them each a glass of champagne. "Shoppin’ sure ain’t like this at the Walmart." Faith glanced to Ginny. "It's a little exposed though isn't it? I mean - are you really safe here?"

Ginny’s lip curled up. "You tell me."

Faith rolled her eyes. The ‘tude was really startin’ to pale. "What we shoppin’ for anyhow?"

"It’s daddy dearest’s birthday," venom dripped from every note. "Number fifty. That's why he's so twitchy lately. Big party makes security difficult, plus I think there's a whole mid-life thing going on."

Faith raised an eyebrow, and easily quelled the urge to slap Rusty’s ungrateful face. So Poppa bear wasn’t attentive enough for the princess, big fucking deal. Did he hit her? Did he let her go hungry? Did he treat her like the shit under his feet? Way Faith saw it, the silly cow had it easy. "You're looking at talismans?"

Virginia nodded. "Images of the goddess Yeska, his favourite creepy deity.  What do you think of the gold one?"

Faith shrugged. "Not really my thing, you’d be better with G or Wes." Ginny shot her a confused look. "My Watchers."

"It must be hard being a Slayer?"

"Easier than the path life was sendin’ me down. And one that meant I was actually worth a damn." Faith smirked and shrugged. "The dying twice blew though."

"You really died?" Ginny’s green eyes widened

"I got better." Faith’s dark eyes narrowed as two hard-looking bastards came up to flank Ginny.

"Virginia, we're gonna go now." One of the men said.

"Say good bye to your girl-friend," the other leered at her

Then hit the ground when Faith caught him with a toe-kick to the crotch, Faith simultaneously catching the second with a backfist that put him on the floor. "Jeez wise guys just ain’t worth a damn."

Virginia stared at her. "How, how."

"Stop doin’ a goldfish impression," Faith snorted. "We’re leavin’."

* * *

"Those idiots," Lanier shook his head as he hurried from his apartment and to his car, a midnight-black Mercedes CLK. He nodded absently at the peaked-capped chauffer holding the door open for him. "Thank you Johnson."

"You can tip me later."

Suddenly a hand was in the middle of his back, shoving him into the back of the car. Lanier fell on his knees on the car floor, a pair of strong hands grabbing him by his lapels and flinging him onto the seat, in-between a pair of men, one bald and black, the other white with black hair. Then the doors slammed shut, and the car was screeching away from the kerb. "You don’t who you’re dealing with!"

An elbow crashed into his mouth, blood flying from it as his head snapped back, bouncing against the seat’s expensive upholstering. "Ten points in the cliché game!" the white one of the two in the back with him let out a cry. "Wanna go for twenty?"

"Mr Harris," an English-accented voice spoke up from the driver’s seat, "let’s act with at least a modicum of professionalism."

"Ah Wes," the white guy complained, "where’s the fun in that?"

Lanier’s heart sank. Mr. Harris? An Englishman called Wes? A bald-headed black man? Somehow he’d acquired the attention of the infamous Scooby gang. "You can’t just kidnap me!" he shouted.

"Actually we just have," the Englishman corrected as he pulled the car into a darkened parking spot behind a bowling alley. "And now we’re going to have a talk about your attempts to slay Virginia Bryce."

"Ha!" Despite the severity of the situation, Lanier couldn’t help but laugh. "My attempts to kill Ms. Bryce? After tonight they don’t matter anyway!"

Suddenly Xander’s hands were around his throat, all humour fleeing the youth’s dark eyes. "You better explain that and fast, because my girl-friend’s with Virginia right now!"

"Xander," Wesley’s impatient voice broke in from the front, "he can hardly elaborate while you’re choking him."

"Point."

Lanier gasped and wheezed as he struggled for air, hand rubbing at his hurt throat. Despite his pain he was still able to laugh again. "You really haven’t done your research have you?"

"We did enough to track your assassins back to you," Gunn stonily replied. "You got anythin’ to add, start talkin’ ‘fore we start hittin’."

"There’s no need." Lanier tried and failed to regain his composure. "If you’d have checked with your Contracts division, you’d have found that Magnus Bryce lodged a contract with Yeska," Wesley groaned, "twenty-five years ago."

"And the terms of this contract?" Wesley asked, his tone filled with trepidation.

"On the eve of his 50th birthday, he’d sacrifice his virgin first-born to Yeska-."

"Oh bloody hell!" The car jetted forward, screeching out of the darkened parking lot.

* * *

"Hey," Faith grinned as she entered Ginny’s room to see an ice-bucket with a pair of champagne bottles in it, and a pair of glasses standing beside it, "champers. Wanna a glass, Rusty?" The heiress nodded mutely, the rich gal having not said a word since they’d left the shopping centre, which was kinda how she liked her heiresses, dumb and compliant. "Wicked," Faith poured two glasses and passed one over to her companion before sitting on the bed.

Three glasses later and Faith laughed when Ginny fell back onto the bed. "Man," Faith laughed as she poured herself a fourth and final glass before swigging the bottle’s remains down her neck, "you can’t take your drink." Faith finished her glass off in short order, enjoying the rich bubbles gliding into her mouth, then stretched, her eyes suddenly as heavy as anvils. Suddenly she was very, very tired.

* * *

Magnus eased the door open, relieved to find his daughter and the Slayer lying unconscious on the bed. He also noted as pretty as she was, the brunette was a very, very loud snorer.

So loud in fact, he thought he might need require ear-plugs.

Magnus turned to his companions. "Grab Ginny and take her through the altar."

"Sure boss," the two men strode in, picked up Ginny’s limp body and turned back to him, "what about the Slayer?"

Magnus bit his bottom lip. It was tempting to play it safe, kill her, and be done with it. But although the Slayer was the greatest physical danger, the occult power of

Wolfram & Hart would almost certainly be brought to stomp him out of existence should he harm her. "No, once Ginny’s dead the pact will be completed, the Slayer’s friends won’t be able to do anything. No point escalating any feud by killing her."

* * *

Virginia was dragged over to a stone sculpture and laid at its foot, the immaculately dressed crowd parting and clapping at her arrival. Bryce smiled sadly before walking to the side of the sculpture and spoke. "Thank you.  I want to thank all of you for being here on this special occasion.  My feelings run almost too deep for words.  But I'll try to do this, and do it right." Bryce lit a candle:  "Yeska, of the razor eyes and stone heart, take this offering.  I cast my most precious emerald into the ocean on the moment of my birth plus 50 years. Take this gift, let her death return tenfold onto me my power." Bryce dipped his thumb into a basin of water sitting on the sculpture and marked Ginny’s forehead with it, before backing away again.

"Oh that’s not gonna happen."

* * *

Giles’ heart dropped as he followed Xander into the room to find Faith lying on the bed. "Is she-."

"She has a pulse," Xander put his finger on Faith’s neck, his other hand pulling at her eyelids, "from the looks of her eyes, she’s been drugged."

Giles scowled protectively. "I’ll stay with her, you go and ruin this gentleman’s ill-conceived scheme."

* * *

Bryce’s eyes bulged. "Guards."

One of the guards stepped into Xander’s way, but his right knocked the guy square on his ass. Another threw a left hook Xander caught on his forearm, screams starting to echo through the crowded room as Xander’s companions began to fight their way through. Xander sidestepped a charge, grabbed the guy by his collar and belt, flinging him face first into the wall, his fist elbow snapping back and into the man’s kidneys, knocking him down the wall.

Beside him, he saw Cordelia grab a champagne bottle by its neck and swing it into the side of another thug’s head, glass shattering as his knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

"Oh boy," Xander hissed as an ugly, grey-skinned demoness with a wild thatch of blond appeared in a flash of lightning. The demoness pointed towards a podgy finger at the still sedated girl. "The Sacrifice is impure!" Another flash of lightning and the goddess disappeared again.

"She's impure? She-she's not a virgin?" Bryce rose from behind the cold food buffet-laden table he’d dived behind.

"Ha!" Cordy pointed towards the sleeping red-head. "You’re expecting a twenty-five year old virgin in California? Did you think we’d become Amish-land?"

Giles strode into the devastated party. "Wesley, Xander, go and collect Faith," Giles glared at Bryce. "As an aside, if a single hair on Faith’s head had been harmed, I’d have ensured this building and every one you own was razed to the ground within the day."

"You work for me, you can’t come in here-."

"The contract clearly specified we protect your daughter, it didn’t specify any exceptions to that," Giles smiled. "I would strongly suggest you don’t even think about not paying your bill. While I might turn a blind eye to certain clients being late with payment, it would be my extreme pleasure to send our debt-collectors after you."

* * *

Wesley looked up from his paperwork at a knock at his door. "Come in." His eyes widened at the lab-coated, diminutive man who walked in, vaguely recognising him from their induction and meetings with all of W&H’s major people. "Knox from the research and development department?"

"Yes sir, honoured you could remember me."

"Yes, yes, yes," Wesley had little patience with toadying. Perhaps because it reminded him of the old Wesley, before Sunnydale had honed him. "How can I help you?"

"I’ve been trying to get a tomb into the country, but its run into problems a few days ago."

"A tomb? Of whom exactly?" Wesley queried.

"Well that’s just it," the inoffensive-looking man shrugged. "That’s the mystery. No one knows, but carbon dating suggests its millions of years old."

"Then it’s demonic in origin?" Wesley queried. Knox nodded. "Then what’s the problem?"

"It’s got stuck in US. Customs," Knox explained. "I need someone to muscle it through."

"Um," Wesley glanced from the Customs documentation and to the practically bouncing on the spot scientist, "very interesting. But why me and why not your heads of department?"

"Oh," Knox shrugged. "They’re like a pair of kids in a candy store, fascinated with all the state of the art equipment, always trying to purchase more. Normally I’d be with them, but this is a whole different level. I doubt they’d be interested in something so old."

That just went to show how little Knox truly knew his new bosses. However Wesley was more than willing to humour the man, especially considering his own flickering interest. "Put the papers in my in-tray, I’ll sign them."

Faith led the others into Giles’ office, stopping at the door when she found Giles and Wesley already there and sat with Marcus Hamilton. Faith directed a venomous glare towards the firm liaison. "What does he want?"

The mystery man shot her a gleamingly insincere smile and opened his mouth, but Giles beat him to it. "Mr. Hamilton has made us a most intriguing offer," Giles commented.

"Yeah," Faith smiled lazily at the firm liaison, "I’ve got an offer for him too, my boot up his ass."

Hamilton’s smile widened. "As charming as her reputation."

Wesley spoke before she had chance to retort. "Hamilton wants us to host this millennium’s Midnight Assembly-."

"Midnight Assembly?" This time it was Wood’s turn to comment. "Mr. Crowley told me about that, but I always thought it was a myth?"

"No myth," Hamilton made a show of fiddling with his cuff-links before continuing, "it’s a meeting of ambassadors from all of the major demonic races held every millennium."

"Huh, huh." Faith sniffed. "And why should we wanna concern ourselves with a bunch of demons?"

"It’s a tremendous opportunity, Faith," Wesley replied.

"Opportunity how?" queried Cordelia.

"Why the opportunity to observe any number of powerful and dangerous demon races in a neutral, not to mention safe environment," Giles practically gushed.

"Say," Xander drawled, "do you and Wes need some alone time with some of demonology books?"

"Ones with plenty of pictures?" added Gunn.

"Don’t forget the klenexes," Faith commented.

Giles shot them a scalding look. "Ah, the much-vaunted Scoobie professionalism," scoffed Hamilton.

Faith’s eyes narrowed. "You wanna get out of here so the grown-ups can talk?"

"Of course," Hamilton rose, his practiced smile still in place, "when you’ve made your decision, please get in touch."

The moment the door closed behind the lawyer, Faith turned back to her adoptive father and Watcher. "You really sure ‘bout doin’ this?"

"Not entirely sure no," Giles replied. "However, quite aside from the academic interest, it would give us considerable ‘brownie points’ across the wider demonic community should we pull this assembly off successfully."

"And that’s important why?" Gunn challenged.

"Because," Giles skewered the black with a look, "like it or not, they’re our clients."

Gunn met Giles glare for glare. "And think we’ve already established no-body likes that."

Giles smoothly sidestepped an argument they’d had many times before. "All of these demons aren’t hostile to humans, some simply want to live in peace, some actually fight for us, indeed invites have been sent out to a number of these champions. It could be an opportunity to make some alliances," Giles commented.

"’Kay," Faith scowled. The chance of new allies was always good. "What’s the plan?"

Giles looked towards Wesley who nodded before speaking. "Rupert and I will be in charge of all diplomatic meetings, Faith, I want you in charge of security, that includes building security, Rona, Xander, Robin, and Gunn. Cordelia, I’d appreciate if you organised the clerical requirements of this conference, the creation of agendas, the taking of minutes, and that sort of thing. Lorne, we’d like you to work with Willow and Tara in assuring accommodation and dietary requirements for our guests are met."

"You’ve got a list of jobs and attendees I assume?" Wood said.

"Yes," Giles nodded, "I have the details typed up, all I need is," Giles grimaced and looked towards Cordelia, "Cordelia to show me how the bloody email works."

Once the titters had died down, Wesley spoke. "We have four days before the Assembly, I expect you all to prioritise this matter."

* * *

Faith looked around the long boardroom. A brazier filled with burning coals stood in its centre both illuminating and warming it. An immaculately varnished pentagram table stood around it, Giles sat its far end.

"Did Giles know he was to be the arbiter?" muttered Xander.

"Nah, Hamilton kinda sprung it on him yesterday," Faith whispered back. Which only confirmed her opinion of the firm’s messenger boy as one tricky bastard. "Have the witches sorted out the accommodation?"

"And the foods," Xander nodded, "Will said some of the diets put her off her own food." Xander grinned briefly. "I didn’t ask for details."

The doors at the near end opened and a tall, thin demon with purple skin, red eyes, and a pair of horns sticking out of the top of his head strode through, Hamilton half-bowing before the demon. "Will says he’s Archduke Sebassis, the leader of the Purpurea Clan, one of the most vicious demons in this dimension."

"Yeah," Faith muttered. He looked an arrogant bastard, that was for damn sure. The demon looked towards them, then seemed to dismiss them, striding to one of the seats. Faith stiffened as a pointy-eared, evil-eyed bastard with skin like a wrinkled prune hobbled into the monster, its long fingers ending in vicious-looking talons. "Is that a vampire?"

"Yeah," Xander nodded, his hand going out to grab her arm as she started forward, "you can’t, he’s a delegate."

Faith’s eyes widened as they snapped to Xander. "You’re not serious!" she hissed.

Xander shrugged, his mouth opening. "Ah, the Slayer, I’ve always wanted to meet you."

Faith turned to face a frail-looking blue-skinned demon with a drooping, Fu Manchu moustache, blue goatee, pointed ears, and a pair of horns either side of his head, and dressed in black robes. "Yeah?" Faith raised an eyebrow. "I’m not surprised, what with me bein’ a celeb in these parts."

The demon chuckled with a softness that didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. "Yes you are my dear, but that isn’t why I wanted to meet you, my name’s D’Hoffryn, ruler of Arashmaharr, and employer of the Vengeance Demons." The demon’s predatory smile widened. "You’ve defeated two of them you know."

"Have I?" Faith shrugged casually. "I’ve beaten so many demons, I forget the minor ones."

"Ha," D’Hoffryn laughed, "you are a treat, aren’t you? No," the demon shook his head, "you wouldn’t remember defeating my girls, their powers tend to change reality, and when defeated reality returns to its normal." The demon tilted his head to one side. "My women all have one thing in common, a great deal of anger. I think you’d fit in wonderfully."

Faith’s eyes hardened to obsidian. "You makin’ me an offer? ‘Cause, not interested."

"As you say," D’Hoffryn’s smile remained. "Still, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance."

Faith only relaxed when the demon scurried away. "See," Xander smiled, "you are a diplomat."

Faith smirked. "Shut it or I’ll diplomatically stick my foot up your ass."

"See," Xander’s smile widened, "you are being diplomatic, at least I got a warning."

Faith chuckled darkly as the demons continued entering, some she recognised either from personal experience or research, but others she’d never seen before. "Hey," Faith pointed when a man of medium height but a powerful build, long dark hair, and soulful eyes strode in, "who’s he?"

"Oh wow," Xander’s eyes widened as he followed her finger. "He came, he actually came."

"Who is he?" Faith repeated.

"That’s Drogyn, the Battlebrand," Xander explained.

"That tells me precisely zip," Faith commented.

"Sorry," Xander smiled apologetically. "He’s the guardian of The Deeper Well, the graveyard of the Old Ones, the demons who first ruled here at the dawn of time. He might look human-."

"He looks more than human," Faith mused, "he looks downright edible."

"Stood right here," Xander muttered. "But the rumours are he’s fourteen hundred years old." Faith whistled. Talk ‘bout well-preserved. "They also say he’s Lancelot du Lac, preserved as the great warrior of his time and kept alive until such time as he’s earned his redemption for ending England’s golden age."

"Heh, looking at him I get why Gwen let him lance her a lot," Faith elbowed Xander in the ribs and snorted, "get it?"

Xander sighed long-sufferingly. "I get it."

Faith pouted. "Well I thought it was funny."

"I’m sure you are the epitome of wit and humour."

Faith turned towards the advancing demon, her skin crawling. Some of the demons looked like formidable bastards, others looked crafty, this one on the other hand looked like the demonic version of a dirty old man. Wisps of hair danced on the red-skinned creature’s head, deep wrinkles forming caverns on his face, the demon leaned on a IV stand while continually wheezing, but Faith wasn’t fooled by his fail appearance. If the demon was here, at this conference, he was a major player. "Can I help you?" she coolly asked.

"Polite too," the demon flashed her a strained smile before descending into a fit of hacking coughs. Once he’d finished, the demon continued. "I’m Cyvus Vail, I only wished to pay my respects to the Slayer who defeated Catherine Madison and Rack, two of my students, and Mayor Wilkins, the man I did that reality spell for so people wouldn’t notice how long he’d ruled Sunnydale for. You must be formidable to defeat three such powerful opponents."

"I am," Faith flatly replied. "And I had help."

"Well," the demon’s smile widened, "as I said, a true honour to make your acquaintance."

Faith forced back a shiver as the demon hobbled away. "Can this thing be over already?"

Xander’s mouth opened but before he could speak, Wesley walked in accompanied by Rona. "Looks like that’s my cue," her boyfriend muttered, "you and Rona have fun listening to demons bicker."

"Yeah," Faith groaned, "the demonic UN, god help me." Xander winked at her before making his way to the boardroom’s entrance and closing the double doors behind him, Gunn, Wood, and Xander taking up their assigned positions at the door.

Faith watched as Rona took up a position across the room from her, her fellow Slayer nodding curtly before crossing her arms, and leaning against the wall, and Wesley made his way through the throng and muttered something into Giles’ ear. The elder Englishman nodded and rattled his knuckles onto the desk, the hall falling silent and every eye turning towards Giles. "Everyone is here now, so why don’t we take a seat and begin negotiations."

Everyone bar her, Ron, and Wes sat, the other Watcher making his way over to her. "It’s terribly exciting isn’t it?"

Faith shot Wes a caustic look. "Yeah, ‘cause I’m Watcher-Gal suddenly am I?"

Wesley bristled. "Well really."

Faith laughed softly then settled down to watching. The next few days were gonna drag.

* * *

Faith strode through W&H’s illuminated corridors, eyes shooting left and right as she checked security. The meeting was finally over, it had been a torturously boring torrent of unrecognisable languages and unfathomable dialects, the monotony only broken up when she’d had to force a blue-skinned brawler by the name of Boone back into his seat when he’d tried to rip the head off a Mok'tagar called Taparrich. However this one was only the first day, there were two more days of this nightmare scheduled, and so she was checking the security of the delegates’ accommodation. Her eyes narrowed as she noted a slightly-open door.

Faith was about three steps from the door when it burst open and the Prince Of Lies burst from it, the vampire’s teeth glinting and red eyes burning through the shadows. Faith sidestepped its rush, an grunt escaping her as its claws lashed down, slicing through her denim jacket, and gouging into her left shoulder. "Motherfucker!" she cursed as pain lanced through her arm and she dropped into a crouch. "Does truce mean nothing to you?"

"Slayer!" the stooped-over vampire let out a howl before leaping at her again. Faith kicked out, her foot catching the demon in his chest, knocking him back a step.

Faith launched herself through the air, her own stake flying down. "Shit!" she grunted as the demon’s long talons closed on her wrist, stopping her stake about four inches from its target. Her left first crashed into the demon’s jaw, snapping its head to one side and loosening its grip.

Her stake stabbed at its target but somehow the vampire wriggled aside, swinging a talon that Faith only just managed to duck under. Faith came up fast and hard, slamming an uppercut to the vampire’s jaw.

The demon’s eyes glazed momentarily as he back-pedalled away from Faith’s attack. Faith feinted with a spin-kick to his head only to change into a leaping thrust kick the moment the demon began to duck under the attack. Her heel crashed into the demon’s chest, lifting the Prince from his feet and flinging him into the wall.

The Prince snarled as he bounced off the wall and back into the attack. Stars exploded before Faith’s eyes as her adversary’s right fist crashed into her forehead. Faith stumbled backwards, suddenly on rubbery legs. She heard the demon’s triumphant snarl, felt his cold hands on her throat, crushing the breath from her, then drove her knee up into the vampire’s crotch.

The grip loosened, the vampire falling back even as he doubled up and Faith glided into a twisted at the waist hook to her rival’s jaw. The vampire’s head snapped to the side, her stake driving down, through his back, and into his undead heart.

Faith wiped the blood away from her mouth as the vampire exploded into dust, glaring defiant at the delegates who’d come out of the rooms to watch the fight. "Anyone else feelin’ like takin’ on the champeen?" she spat.

"Murderer!" a four-armed, three-eyed demon with spikes running down the centre of his red-skinned head, three-nostriled snout flaring in indignation.

Faith arched an eyebrow as she glared at the demon. "You get your boy was tryin’ to kill me?" Faith cracked an icy smile. "Now you’ve had the show. Rooms. Now."

* * *

Rona yawned as she patrolled her floor of the delegates. She stopped as she noted a door slightly ajar. She glanced at Wood and whispered. "Cover me."

Her watcher nodded and raised her crossbow as she crept to the door and pushed it open, the door’s creak thundering on her growing nerves. She stalked inside then stopped, bile rising in her throat at the sight of the shredded demon lying in pieces throughout the darkened room, blood soaking the carpet and walls. Clearly a being of immense power had ripped the demon limb from limb.

"So," she almost started at Wood’s whisper behind her, "probably not a suicide then."