"This won’t do at all!" she fumed as she watched the display in her underground bunker, one of her many cameras secreted throughout Sunnydale recording the action. She was well aware of the town’s defenders, but even now was building the means to defeat them. But this threat was yet more worrying. She looked towards her computer and snapped. "Identify threat."

Yes, she turned and glanced through her observation screen, smiling at the bodies being altered for the next stage of human evolution, the army that would ultimately see her as the world’s new ruler, with the wise bowing to her and the defiant laid waste to.

* * *

Sheila grinned and rose from her crouch as the office’s outer door’s lock clicked softly, the door swinging open. Ever since she’d gotten her powers on Halloween, she’d been on easy street. There wasn’t a lock or vault that she couldn’t break or an electronic security she couldn’t overload. And the creatures of the night weren’t a worry anymore.

Yeah, her powers were a real blast.

"Oh look, human scum."

Sheila spun to face the three football-headed demons wearing uniforms quite like those she’d seen in World War II history books on the days she could be bothered to go to school. Sheila let out an entirely feigned gasp, hands rising as if she was begging off then laughed, her hands dropping. "Who am I kidding?" she waved her hand negligently, a steel dumpster sliding across the alley to crash into the trio and squash them against the far wall. "Oh look," she scoffed, "three pancakes."

No, the creatures of the night weren’t a worry at all.

* * *

"How is she?" Giles struggled vainly to free himself from his steel, and probably enchanted restraints then gave up, worried gaze settling on the Slayer. All of them bore the various wounds of their capture, but once they’d been restrained, the Marshal had coolly ordered another beating of Faith for ‘being the creature that gives the other creatures the courage to rise above the mud’.

Rather poetic for a screaming lunatic.

The beating that Faith had received without uttering a grunt or sob, had been delivered with a cold efficiency, but had been no less brutal for it. Ignoring his angry shouts and Cordelia and Gunn’s threats, the three Scourge members had first battered the Slayer’s face into a bloody mask, then repeatedly kicked her in the torso before finishing with various chains to the arms and legs.

"Not good," Cordelia grimly reported, the former cheerleader’s own face swollen and her left shoulder hanging awkwardly.

However she’d gotten off easy next to Faith, they all had. The brunette’s nose had been flattened, her eyes bludgeoned shut, and her jaw looked to be broken from the way it hung down. Even more worrying was the way she shuddered after every breath, as if breathing was an unimaginable agony, and several of her fingers were blackened and swollen suggesting dislocations and breakings. And that was just the wounds he could see.

Giles felt a surge of anger as he looked around the darkened but very busy warehouse. Every one of these bastards was going to pay for doing this to one of his charges.

* * *

Captain Marduk beamed as he exited the bar, its mixed clientele of humans, half-demons, demons, and vampires either dead or dying. True, he’d lost six of his men in doing so, but his mission objective had been -.

His musings trailed off as he drew to a halt, eyes belatedly registering the lean man slouched against one of the alley, staring at them with disquieting poise. Shaking off his concern, he signalled three of his men forward. "Kill him."

The men had barely covered half the distance between them and the stranger when he pulled out a box and pressed the button on top of it.

"Oh no!" Marduk gasped as the ground shuddered and the narrow alley-way’s walls imploded in where his men were, crushing the trio beneath them.

"Oh dear," drawled the foreign-sounding man from the other side of the fallen bricks, "American architecture really isn’t up too much. By the way have you met my associates?"

Marduk started to turn, then a bolt of lightning struck him and everything went black.

* * *

"Well," Wesley carefully re-holstered the Browning BDM he’d used to slay two of the demons who’d scrabbled over the rocks to escape his companions, "that was rather invigorating."

"Invigorating?" Oz raised an eyebrow.

Wesley chose to ignore the rock guitarist’s stoic comment, sensing a world of scorn in the one word. "Which way to the next Scourge patrol?"

Oz tilted his head to one side before slowly nodding. "We need to head to The Bronze, they’re hitting the vamp hang-out near there."

* * *

"Is she still-…" Giles’ voice trailed off, unable to finish the question as he stared at his greying Slayer.

Gunn nodded, the youth’s increased invulnerability meaning he was healing quicker from his beating. "Yeah," the black nodded, ear inches from Faith’s mouth, "she’s still breathin’."

Giles closed his eyes. "Thank god." He stopped as he sensed a familiar presence near-by. "Jenny?"

"What did they do to her?" his still-invisible but obviously horrified girl-friend whispered.

"They decided she needed punishing for daring to be a Slayer," Giles grated, a familiar rage building up. This time, if he was facing a human enemy, he’d release it, and gladly snap their minds, turning them into a dribbling infant. Unfortunately though, his powers didn’t seem to work on demons. ""You’ll have to unlock our manacles, they’re apparently enchanted, neither Cordelia nor Charles have been able to power out of them."

"Where are the keys?"

Giles nodded towards the truck nearest the entrance. "Their leader threw them on the front seat."

"Okay," Jenny replied. "The moment the others attack, I’ll get them."

Giles’ brow furrowed. "The others-." The far end of the warehouse suddenly shook, the wall imploding in a chaotic spray of bricks, fire, and dust. "Oh, I see."

* * *

The Marshal gasped as the ground trembled underfoot, spinning as the wall crashed in and a wall of fire assailed his men, the men convulsing like they’d been electrocuted, blood spurting out of their bodies as bullet after bullet hit them. Not to mention the occasional fireball from their contingent of witches.

A great terror rose in his chest as he realised he’d underestimated Sunnydale’s ‘Paladins’. Heart racing, he hurried towards the nearest truck, the sound of the firing increasing as the warehouse’s entrance also crashed open.

Carnage, utter carnage.

Leaping into the truck’s cab, he grabbed his keys, then ducked as an errant bullet shattered the windscreen, glass showering over him. Panic growing, he rammed his keys into the ignition, the engine spluttering into life.

* * *

"Oh thank god," Giles groaned as Jenny unfastened his cuffs, the carnage largely dying down, together with the demon army, one truck lumbering out of the warehouse. "Faith, how are you dear?"

Faith stared blindly around. "Jonathan," the girl croaked, trying but failing to raise her arms for her boyfriend to get a hold of her, "where are youse?"

Xander looked around at the Slayer’s slurred question, heart sinking when he realised the youth was missing. "Ah hell." He looked towards Oz. "We need to hustle and fast."

* * *

Sweat beaded into the Marshal’s eyes as he drove out of Sunnydale’s borders. The city was an insane asylum run by its inmates, but when he returned with ten times the troops, he’d turn it to a bloody charnel house. He gasped as the steering wheel spun away from him, the truck veering out of his control, first rocking to the left, then kangarooing slightly, and finally tilting to the left before crashing down on its side, his head crashing against the cab’s ceiling on impact.

Head ringing, he unfastened his seatbelt and struggled out of the cab, dropping to the road. "Amazing what barbed wire across the road can do."

"You!" he spun around and glared down at the foot and half shorter youth who’d just strode out of the shadows, unable to believe this runt would dare attack him.

"You hurt my girl, bub." The snarl that erupted from the boy’s mouth was practically bestial. "Now class is in session."

Suddenly the youth was surging at him, the Marshal brought up a knee into the teen’s face. The blow snapped the boy’s face to the side, but his only reaction was hooking the Marshal’s leg, twisting at the waist and flinging him. "Aaaah!" the Marshal grunted as his head cracked against the over-turned lorry’s underside, blood bursting out of his forehead like a faucet.

"I can’t guarantee," the youth’s heel snapped into his instep as he turned to face him, the blow knocking him back against the lorry, "you’ll live through it though." His leg almost buckled when the boy followed up his threat with a diagonal karate chop to his outside left knee.

Ignoring the pain, he caught the on-rushing youth with a clubbing right to the head, but he might as well been using a pea-shooter. The boy caught him with a pair of unfeasibly fast lefts to the ribs, his wind bursting from him as he started to double-up only to be forced to straighten when a knee to the face impacted.

The Marshal staggered to the side, his vision a blurred red. Seeing the boy coming in, that unsettlingly coldness still in his eyes, he grabbed the youth by the collar and flung him into the side of the lorry. At least that was what was he tried to do, the youth kicking off the lorry’s side to leap back at him.

The Marshal grunted as the youth grabbed him around the waist, lifting him from his feet, his elbow to the boy’s upper-back apparently unnoticed as the teen straightened and launched him over his head like he weighed thirty pounds rather than three hundred. "Aaaagh!" the Marshal grunted as he hit the ground, face scraping across the tarmac, leaving a layer of skin across it.

He barely had time to roll away from the boy’s follow-up kick, grabbing the teen’s foot and yanking on it, the boy falling to the ground to his knees beside him. Seeing the tide of the fight turning, he rolled up onto his knees and swung a right haymaker.

He gasped as the blow bounced off the side of the boy’s head with depressingly little effect. The boy smiled darkly. "Nice try, bub." And then the teen’s head was crashing into his face, pain blazing through it as the butt shattered his nose, blood vomiting down his face. His mouth opened in a pained scream that was cut off by the uppercut to the jaw that also lifted him off his knees and put him on his back, back of his head cracking against the unsympathetic tarmac.

And then the short human was on him, snarling, growling, and grunting like some wild animal, fists, forearms, and elbows landing even as he ignored the Marshal’s increasingly feeble attacks. And then suddenly the boy was off him. The Marshal’s relief only lasted as long as it took him to dazedly realise the youth was lifting him over his head, and then bringing him down hard, his throat coming down on the boy’s knee.

* * *

"You know, not that I know anything, but I’m really guessing he’s dead," Xander commented.

Oz nodded. "You really went Old Testament on his ass."

Xander looked towards Oz. "Old Testament on his ass?"

Oz shrugged. "You want to read it. Seriously violent. Tarantino could have written it."

Xander sighed long-sufferingly. "I need a better class of friends," he decided, stiffening as Jonathan turned to face them, the former geek’s eyes as dark and cold as one’s could get without hopefully not losing their sanity. "How about we go back to the hospital and see how Faith and the others are doing?" he asked softly.

"Faith," a hungry look entered the geek’s eyes.

"Oh don’t you go monosyllabic on me as well!" Xander shot Oz a glare.

"Best." Oz paused. "Get." The guitarist paused again. "Wire. First."

"Oh you think you’re funny," Xander shook his head.

* * *

Giles stalked the passageway outside Faith’s hospital room, Jenny, Cordelia, Gunn, and Alana sat on the hospital’s typically uncomfortable plastic chairs. He looked up as the door opened and Wesley walked out, a taut look in his fellow Watcher’s eyes.

"Well?" he snapped impatiently.

His country-man met his gaze, something he’d not been able to do years ago. "She has a detached retina, broken nose, three broken ribs, two broken fingers on her right hand, a fractured left wrist, and a dislocated left shoulder," the younger man reported then paused. "There’s some kidney damage and a punctured lung."

"Oh thank god," Giles muttered.

"Giles!" Cordelia gasped.

Giles waved away the cheerleader’s disgust. "I only meant that those are injuries a Slayer can heal in short order and without any lasting effects, she should be alright."

"Where’s Faith?"

Giles spun at Jonathan’s pain-choked voice behind him, briefly shuddering at the dark energy swirling around the youth, Xander and Oz behind him. "She’s in there-." The youth swept past him and into the room, leaving Giles to look towards the others. "Faith is going to be vulnerable to attack for the next few days, we’ll have to put on a guard."

Xander looked towards Oz who nodded silently. "We’ll do it tonight. Why don’t the rest of you go home?"

"I’m staying with my Slayer," Wesley replied.

"Very well," Giles nodded. "The rest-."

"Are staying," Cordelia interrupted.

Giles nodded again. "Very well."

Parker chuckled as he looked around his darkened home, the walls plastered with photographs of Sunnydale’s most popular beauties – Ms. Calendar, although soon she’d beg him to call her ‘Jenny’ and him ‘sir’, Faith Lehane, Willow Rosenberg, Cordelia Chase, Alonna Gunn, and many others.

All women who’d shown themselves oblivious to his towering intellect and power, but they’d learn to worship at his feet. Now that he had the Allure-Tron to make it so. He was very lucky that his possession as Doctor Doom had added over a hundred IQ points to his intelligence.

Still chuckling, he bent over the machine and started working, carefully placing photographs of those he’d selected to serve in his harem in a circle around the glowing helmet and then reverently placed it on his head.

It wouldn’t be long now.

* * *

"Faith!" Giles looked up as the curvy brunette strolled into his shop. "I thought they weren’t letting you out until later?"

The Slayer beauty’s bruises still hadn’t completely healed from her attack three days earlier, evidence just how severe her battering had been. Despite that, the Bostonian still managed a cocksure smirk. "They weren’t, I got tired of them re-testing and re-examining me, talkin’ about writin’ papers about my healing, so I skipped out." Faith paused. "I tried Wes on his cell, but he weren’t answerin’, so all I want from you is your key to the gym, mine’s at home."

"Faith, I applaud your enthusiasm, but I hardly-."

"Enthusiasm? I don’t train, I die," Faith retorted, her hand held out. "Keys?"

Giles shook his head at the Slayer’s pig-headedness. "Young lady," he reproved. "You forget there’s others now with powers more than equal to yours before Halloween-."

"And that’s great," Faith replied, "but it’s still my responsibility and I ain’t shirking it-."

"Dear, no-one would ever accuse you of-," he sighed at Faith’s impatient look and foot tapping on the floor, "very well." He reached into the register and dropped the key into the waiting Slayer’s out-stretched palm. "Don’t over do it."

"’Won’t," the Slayer stalked out of the room.

* * *

Parker smiled as he finished his coding. There was only one group of people capable of stopping his scheme, and now they’d be taken care of before they even got a chance.

* * *

"Ah Tara," Giles looked up as the shy witch he’d hired as his part-time shop assistant exited the store-room to the shop’s rear. "I’ve got some-," his gaze returned to Faith coming back through the front door. "Ah, you’ve thought better of-." His voice trailed as he noticed something very odd about the Slayer’s ‘aura’ for want of a better word. "Faith-, uggggh!"

He gasped as the Slayer grabbed him by the throat, lifted and flung him into the nearest bookstand sending it and him crashing to the ground. "Faith," he gasped as he struggled up, "listen to-." He grunted as he hit the book-littered ground again, the Slayer having swept his legs from under him. "Faith," the Boston beauty reached for him, her normally bright eyes as dead as a robot’s, "you’ve got to-," Giles’ own eyes widened as he rolled out of the way of a stomp. "Oh bollocks!" Pain erupted when a kick from Tara caught him full in the ribs. He barely had chance to look up before the witch smashed a hard-backed book into his forehead, slumping him down in the books, blood leaking from his forehead.

* * *

"No, no, no." Wesley shook his head in dismay, the two lycra-dressed teens who had been sparring coming to a halt. "Goodness gracious, it’s like watching drunken party-goers try to dance." He raised a hand when Amy’s eyes hardened. "I’m sorry, Miss Madison, but you did ask me to supervise-."

"I think we’re finished here."

Wes’ world erupted in pain when Alonna fired a lightning bolt at him. Twisting, he managed to avoid getting hit full-on by it, but what he got was still enough to lift him from his feet and fling him into the stationery bikes. Wesley tried to reach a hand up to pull himself up the wall, only for his strength to fail him. The last thing he heard was Amy speaking to Alonna. "Time to see Master."

* * *

Wood watched half-asleep as Ms. Calendar tutored Willow in the ways of magic. He was loathe to admit, but Mr. Giles’ idea of building a team around the Slayer was an effective one. One could argue that the team wouldn’t have been anywhere near as effective without the Halloween changes but still, even before then he had to admit they had helped with the research and minor demons.

"That’s right," Jenny praised, "you’ve got the force spell down pat." The beguiling computer teacher looked towards him, eyes suddenly ice. "Now, use it on Robin."

"What-," Robin started to rise then gasped as an invisible force crashed into his chest, lifting him from his feet and flinging him into the wall, head cracking against concrete. He gasped and gurgled, hands struggling uselessly as an invisible hand squeezed at his throat, crushing his breath from him. And then he sunk into unconsciousness.

* * *

Xander grinned as they continued the ditch-digging, with their hyped physical capabilities such an usually taxing activity was quite easy. Xander looked up at the sound of wolf-whistling, a teen’s natural curiosity at the possibility of seeing a hottie filling him. "Oh," he grunted as he climbed out of the hole, disappointment filling him, "it’s only you-, owwwww!"

Xander doubled up, nose caving in under Cordelia’s forearm to the face, blood filling his mouth. Dazed, he fell to his knees, catching a wind-robbing kick to the gut as he did so.

"Hey!" he vaguely heard Gunn shout, then gurgle as the statuesque former cheerleader jammed her fingers into his throat. The black managed to block her karate chop to the neck but completely missed her knee to the gut, doubling up under the impact and then hitting the ground under an elbow between the shoulder-blades.

Ignoring his own aching ribs, Xander launched himself off his knees and at the cheerleader only to be grabbed by the shoulder and effortlessly flung into the ditch.

* * *

"You’ll get it," Oz soothed as he shook his head and sighed in frustration.

"It’s not you," Jonathan hastened to reassure his friend as he placed the guitar down on the bed. "I just wanna play a guitar, I mean that’ll increase my cool, right?" Jonathan turned his desperate gaze on his friend and tutor.

"I think Faith thinks you’re cool just being you," Oz replied.

"Thanks but," Jonathan shook his head again, "you’ve seen her right? And you’ve seen me? Well yeah, because you’re in our gang and you’ve got eyes so obviously you’ve seen her, and I’ve never had a girl-friend before, much less someone like Faith!"

"Take. A. Breath."

Jonathan half-grinned. "Yeah, sorr-." Both of their gazes snapped to the door as they heard footsteps creeping up the stairs. Jonathan grinned as an unique scent reached his enhanced nose. Rising, he stepped towards the door. "Nice try, Faith but we both-."

"Ahhh!" Jonathan crashed to the carpet when the door flew open, kicked into him by the Slayer. As he lay there, dazedly blinking his way back to something approaching consciousness, Faith leapt at Oz, straight-arming the rocker to the carpet, then leaning down, grabbing him by his pant crotch and shirt collar and swinging him into the wall. Oz attempted a kick to the Slayer’s face, but might has well be using a pea shooter for all the good it did.

Jonathan dragged himself using a chest of drawers, leaned over and picked up the guitar still lying on the bed and swung it into the back of Faith’s head. The musical instrument shattered, Faith falling onto one knee and dropping Oz onto the desk beneath the wall she’d been trying to imbed him in. Snatching his friend’s hand, he pulled the glazed-eyed guitarist to his feet and looked towards the rising Slayer and then towards the window over the bed. "Oh crap!" the normally stoic Oz groaned as they simultaneously leapt through the window.

Glass shattered as they flew out, hitting the slanted adjoining garage roof, rolling down and crashing into the garbage bags stacked neatly against its wall. Oz looked at him as they struggled to their feet, dragging themselves up on the wall. "Tell me you’re not learning the guitar to make up for something?"

"Of course not!" Jonathan hissed as they stumbled off, shooting furtive glances over the shoulder in case of pursuit. "I would never -."

"I’d really remember this behaviour if you ever have any thoughts towards Lotharioism," Oz winced. "And if you do, keep your distance."

"Yeah, yeah," Jonathan ignored Oz to pull out his phone and dial Giles. "Giles isn’t answering."

Oz pursed his lips. "We’ll head over to the book store, you keep ringing the others."

* * *

Parker smiled as the last of his girls arrived. His plan was going swimmingly. "Hello darling," he purred. "The dressing room is through there, and your costumes are in there. Get changed and be quick about it."

Faith beamed dreamily. "Yes Master."

* * *

"Oh god! Giles!"

"Oooooh," Giles groaned at the shout, head swimming as he raised it off the ground. "Please Jonathan, don’t shout." He winced as Oz and Jonathan helped into a seat. "Thank you, lads. Now, who attacked you?"

"Faith."

"Ah," Giles winced at the memory of his own beating, "our fiery heroine packs quite a punch doesn’t she? And so does Tara."

"You got beat up by Tara?" Oz’s snort died at Giles’ glower. "Not that there’s anything wrong with that."

"Yes quite, where are the others?" Giles queried.

The two Sunnydalers exchanged worried looks. "We couldn’t get any question from Wes’ cell, and a paramedic answered Xander’s cell, Xander’s got a couple of cracked ribs and Gunn’s got a concussion, they’re taking them to hospital."

"I assume they were attacked by Faith too?" Giles queried.

"No, the description sounded more like Cordy," Oz replied.

"Um, and Wood?" Giles queried.

Oz shook his head. "Nothing too."

"Have you tried the phones of our team’s lady members?" Giles queried.

Jonathan nodded. "None of them are answering."

"Stop trying," Giles raised a hand at Jonathan’s out-raged expression. "Just before Faith attacked me I sensed something wrong with her, quite apart from the fists of fury act."

"What?" Jonathan queried, a protective fury in the young man’s eyes.

"I’m not sure," he admitted. "But she appeared under the influence of something. If you’re right and Xander and Gunn were attacked by Cordelia, it suggests a pattern."

"You figure something’s effected the girls?" Oz queried.

"Yes," Giles nodded, "and phoning them would tip them off we’re still fit."

"Fit?" Oz raised an eyebrow. "You’re sure Faith hit you?"

"Oh I’m sure," Giles replied. "We’ll head over to Wesley’s first, we’ll need some more recruits before we face whatever’s controlling the others."

"First we need to find out what is controlling the others," Jonathan pointed out. "Not to mention how to stop it."

Giles shook his head then winced pain shot through it. "I’ve a few ideas on how to do that, however I’ll wait until my head’s clear before trying it. Speaking of,"  

Giles pulled out his keys and threw them to Oz, "you’ll have to drive." He scowled when the youth grimaced. "What now?"

"Drive your car?" Oz sighed long-sufferingly. "I have an image to think about."

"Ha, bloody ha," Giles grunted. "Come on."

* * *

"Wesley!" Giles hurried over to his fellow Watcher and crouched beside him, wincing at the burn in his fellow Watcher’s side. "What happened?"

"Oh bloody hell!" Wesley groaned and winced. "Alonna fried me with a lightning bolt, she and Amy didn’t seem," Wesley groaned, "uuuuugh, themselves."

"Yes," Giles nodded as he pulled out his cell, "that seems to be the consensus. I’m sorry, we can’t stay, I’ll call you an ambulance."

Oz strode in behind. "Wood woke up, he said Jenny and Willow attacked him. He’s heading to meet us here."

"Rupert," Giles turned back to a pale looking Wesley, "Amy said something about a ‘Master’."

"Yes," Giles nodded. "I believe someone is controlling them via mind control, the only questions are why and how."

"You said you had a method to find them?" Oz queried.

Giles grimaced. "It appeared to me, Faith’s brain was on a different frequency for want of a better word to normal people’s."

"Imagine my surprise," grunted Wesley.

"Quite," chuckled Giles, "but a different frequency to what it is normally on, almost as if something was disrupting it." Giles paused. "I should be able to hone in on it and follow it to its source."

"You realise you’ll be out-numbered?" Wesley commented as he wiped sweat from his forehead.

"I know," Giles nodded, "but I’m rather more worried what insidious use whoever’s taken them will be putting them to."

* * *

Parker smiled as Rhona Kelley walked out of the changing room wearing a sailor’s costume and joined the rest of the lithesome girls knelt before him, looking up at him with blankly adoring eyes. They were all there, all of the fantasy classics – nurse, cheerleader, cop, jailbird, school-girl, French maid, secretary, and others beside. The only question, Parker’s smile broadened, was which one to chose. Ah yes, he reached down and tipped Lehane’s dimpled chin up. "You first," he decided.

The busty brunette beamed at him. "Thank you, Master."

Master. That had such a good ring to it.

* * *

"This is the house," Giles nodded towards a three storey house with a wall around it.

"Parker Abrams," Oz said, his tone dead yet indicating a world of distaste. Giles glanced towards the youth with an eyebrow raised. "He was in the year above us, a real player with the ladies. Treated them like meat."

"Did he indeed?" Giles’ hackles rose at the thoughts what the bastard would do to his Jenny and the young girls he thought of his charges. He looked towards his companions. "You three, I’ll need you to keep the girls off my back while I deal with Mr. Abrams."

* * *

Parker smirked as the east coast transplant’s lapdance reached its climax. "Very good!" he clapped his hands together. "Now I want you to undr-." He gasped as the door crashed open and a number of the brunette’s gang charged in. "Kill them! Kill them-."

"Oh," his blood chilled at the English librarian’s snarl. "I don’t think so."

Parker’s back arched and legs buckled beneath him as pain flashed through his skull, threatening to blow the top of his head off. And then there was nothing but light and darkness.

* * *

"I’m going to rip his fucking head off!" Faith stepped towards the downed man, enraged by the memory of what she’d been about to do.

"I really wouldn’t bother," Faith stopped at her Watcher’s grim voice and was rocked when she looked over her shoulder to see an almost dead look in his eyes. "When I broke his control, it also hot-wired the contraption on his head and sent several thousand volts directly into Mr. Ahams’ brains, essentially burning his grey matter. If he ever manages to toilet-train it’ll be a major achievement."

Faith stepped back from the convulsing man she’d now noticed was drooling and nodded uncertainly. "Cool."

"Oh and Faith," she looked over her shoulder to see Giles looking rather less serious. "By all means wear that outfit for training."

Faith looked down, slightly surprised to find herself wearing a lacy black choker, matching fishnet stockings and a frilly garter on her left thigh, a plunging v-font black and white vinyl corset top that was laced up the back, and a white aproned mini. Her outfit was finished off by a frilly black and white headpiece. "He dressed me as a French Maid! The bastard!"

"Yes," Giles muttered, "Jonathan looks utterly disgusted."

"Oh yeah," Faith looked towards her boy-friend. "You want that I keep it, hon?"

* * *

"I’ve been listening to you two talk all evening," Anne swallowed as the two men sat at the diner’s table looked up at her, impaling her with their eyes. "You’re not the only ones who changed at Halloween." She squeezed one of the table’s cups until it shattered under her enhanced grip. "I’ve always wanted to do something special, make a difference in my life. You could give me that chance."

The two men exchanged glances before looking at her, the smaller of the two was first to speak. "Meet us at City Hall, six o’clock tomorrow night."

* * *

"Mr. Giles."

"Hello," Giles’ eyes narrowed as he failed to recognise the quite striking young woman who’d strolled in through the shop’s entrance, despite being sure he knew her from somewhere. "I’m afraid I don’t -."

"Know who I am?" the woman stopped by his counter, then quickly retreated to the nearest shelf, picking up a book without looking at it before turning back to him. "I never actually spent much or any time in the library."

"Ah," understanding flickered. "You’re a Sunnydale High alumni?"

"Alumni?" The mystery woman half-smiled. "That’s as good a word as any, although perhaps not as accurate as survivor." The woman licked her lips. "Look, I know what you and the others do, I was one of those damn concubines," Giles coughed and she blushed, both remembering the revealing costumes. "My name’s Heidi Barrie-."

"You were one of those possessed by a hyena!" Giles exclaimed before quickly moderating his tone. "I’m sorry, please go on."

"Yes I was." The girl looked down, eyes flooding with shame. After a second she raised her head. "I learnt a lot from that, mostly that the sort of person I was didn’t tally with what I wanted to be. I want to help people like your group does." She paused again. "And I want to learn more about the changes that happened to me on Halloween."

"Oh really?" Giles picked up his by well now thumbed Marvel encyclopaedia from under the counter. It was really quite an entertaining universe, not Shakespeare or Dickens of course, but creative nonetheless. "And who did you dress as?"

"Um," the girl’s high cheeks flushed, "I went as X-23."

"Oh," Giles’ eyebrows raised as he married the detailed entry with the woman stood before him. "How very interesting."

"Your fish is good?"

"Delicious."

Giles returned Jenny’s smile with one of his own. They were at a window table at ‘Le Magnifique Poisson’, Sunnydale’s finest fish restaurant, a fixture at Sunnydale’s harbour, their seats allowing them a picturesque view of the sea. "I understand you had a magic lesson with our three witches today." Giles commented as he cut up his cod. "How are they progressing?"

Jenny stared evenly at him, her dark gypsy eyes clearly saying she didn’t care how casually the question was asked, she knew how serious the query really was. "If magic was electricity, a non-mage, someone like Xander or Cordelia would put out enough energy to power a light-bulb. Someone like a Wesley or myself, a minor-league mage capable of lesser incarnations, would be able to power a house. You, a medium-level mage, could power a street. Amy and Tara are extra-ordinary witches, there’s perhaps no more than twelve to twenty of their power in a generation, they could power a district."

It was with great difficulty that Giles swallowed the sudden, choking tension. "And Willow?"

Jenny’s eyes were filled with trepidation. "She’s the energy station powering the entire state."

"Good lord," Giles looked down at his plate, his appetite suddenly gone. "As powerful as that?"

Jenny nodded. "I’d bet we haven’t seen a witch this powerful in over a thousand years."

Giles bit his bottom lip. Ms. Rosenberg, well all of the young trio but her in particular, could be powerful allies but fearsome enemies. "And how are their classes progressing?"

"Amy and Willow are over-eager, they have to be held back, Tara is unsurprisingly the other way, has to be continually prodded into pushing her talent," Jenny replied.

"I don’t envy you the responsibility," he admitted.

"You asked." Jenny smiled warmly and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "And it’s not like you could do it, what with running our little operation."

* * *

His tiger-striped, tinted-window stretch limo purred down main street, the low-riding vehicle bouncing to the music exploding from the car’ boom-box. The moment his car purred to a halt, he was out of it and peering up at the flat-roofed warehouse he’d purchased less than a week ago.

"Yeah man." The gold in his teeth glinted as he smirked, his body and soul vibrating with the Hellmouth’s demonic energies. The Hellmouth would power his magics to undreamed of heights, allowing him to experience yet more twisted depravities. The only fly in the ointment was the Slayer.

"I gotta plans for you, girl," he laughed softly as he unchained the padlock on the silent warehouse. His servants would be here soon to get things ready, and when everything was in place he would strike.

* * *

Kennedy listened avidly as Giles lectured them. He was so cool, the Watcher to a real Slayer, and this was going to be their first patrol. Kennedy risked a glance over to the curvy Bostonian perched on the window-sill, a blush coming to her cheeks as she remembered the dreams she’d had about the sexy Slayer.

Kennedy’s blush deepened as the Slayer looked in her direction and smirked knowingly. Kennedy hurriedly looked away and re-focussed on Giles. "Each of the three patrolling groups is split up so that they have one Watcher to identify any possible demon or arcane creature, one of our three most powerful fighters, one of our three witches, and the rest of us spread in that manner. To that end, Kennedy you’re with my team," Kennedy beamed inwardly, the A-Team, "Rona, you’re with Wood’s team," Kennedy smirked at her friend’s crestfallen look, Rona on the other hand was definitely on the benches, "and Vi, you’re with Wesley." Giles fixed each of them in turn with a hard stare. "Now young ladies, you’re here to observe only. Not to get involved in the action. Understood?"

"Yes Mr. Giles!" they chorused, Kennedy gulping inwardly at the sudden mean streak in the normally genteel book-shop owner.

"Good." And suddenly the hardness was gone, replaced by his usual British properness securely back in place. "Then if you’re all quite ready?"

"Listen Ken," Kennedy started slightly when the Slayer sauntered up beside her, the Bostonian’s dark eyes shooting left and right as they started their patrol, "just keep your eyes open and your head down, you dig?" Ken nodded, her mouth suddenly dry with anticipatory fear. "Wicked."

* * *

Bokor Fumo grinned as he looked around his warehouse, bleached skulls dangling from its ceiling, strobe lighting flashing around, and reggae music blasting out, the floor covered in fluffy carpets. The grin was still on his face as he walked into his back office and peered through the scrying pool, its dark waters shimmering and lightening to reveal the Slayer and her Watcher leading her group through a hushed park, every movement of the curvy Bostonian’s predatory . The Slayer was a rare one, a beauty by anyone’s measure, but what was rarer were the friends that surrounded her, aiding her in her duty. A real oddity.

However even a warrior as formidable as the Slayer could fall prey to magics as powerful as his. He chuckled as he picked up the voodoo doll he’d made of the dark-eyed beauty, hair of hers taken from her stylist to use in the doll’s wig and the doll attired in a leather jacket stolen from the girl’s dressing line and shrunken to fit to make the connection even more personal.

Yes, a great deal of time and effort had gone into making this doll, but after tonight it would make it all perfect. "Yeah man," he hummed a tune as he picked up a test tube of bubbling potion and poured it on the doll’s face. "Time to go bye bye, girl."

* * *

Kennedy’s heart thumped as they made their way through the darkened park. She’d wanted this for so long, to be the Slayer, but now she was here, actually patrolling with the legend herself, she was terrified.

By contrast the Slayer was sauntering beside her as if she didn’t have a care in the world. And then she screeched to a halt, ebony eyes narrowing. "You see them, G?"

"Indeed I do," the Englishman pulled up his sword. "Their movements are too jerky to be vampires though."

"Yeah," Faith nodded. "I was thinkin’." Kennedy’s eyes widened when the Slayer swayed. The Bostonian’s eyes glazed. "Whattttt thhheeee fff-." She gasped as the Slayer pitched forward, crumpling to the ground.

"Oh bloody hell!" Giles roared. "Willow! Xander! Jonathan! Help me form a circle around Faith! Kennedy-."

"I’ll look after Faith!" Kennedy interrupted, as she hurried to stand straddling the downed Slayer, palms held ready to use the powers she’d received during Halloween.

"Oh bugger," Giles nodded. "Very well."

The next minute or so was a maelstrom of chaotic violence and adrenalin-filled terror for Kennedy as her companions were assaulted by a variety of shambling, dead-eyed horrors. And then one burst through her friends’ defences and headed for her and the unconscious Slayer.

Her heart raced as Kennedy raised a hand and pointed it at the advancing monstrosity. If this didn’t work or her power wasn’t enough to finish the demon off, her and Faith were in real trouble.

A stream of orange light flew from her hand and into the beast, folding it in two as it fell on its back. "Oh god!" Kennedy squealed as the thing started to sit up. Panicked, she sent another burst into it, this time catching it on its head. The monster fell back down, Kennedy breathing again when this time it didn’t get back up.

And just like that it was over, their attackers defeated. In a second her companions were crouched around Faith, Giles muttering ‘a well done’ to her before checking the Slayer’s heavy eye-lids. "Giles!" Jonathan gasped. "What’s wrong with her!"

"I don’t know son," Giles fixed Faith’s boy-friend, what she saw in him she had no idea, with a worried stare. "But we had best get her back to the shop."

"Shouldn’t she go to a doctor?" Willow queried. "Or the hospital, yeah a hospital."

Giles shook his head. "The fact Faith’s a Slayer and the way she went down is indicative of a mystical illness or spell. A doctor would be of little help." Giles looked towards Xander and Jonathan. "If you lads wouldn’t mind?"

* * *

"What should we do if-."

"Vivian," Wesley shot the potential a patient look, "your enthusiasm is to be applauded but the last two creatures you mentioned are extinct and indigenous to either icy or mountainous terrains, neither of which we have in the immediate vicinity."

"Oh," the red-haired potential looked crestfallen.

"However," Wesley hurriedly continued, "one should never fell embarrassed for showing curiosity."

Vi nodded. "Okay then, what’s that?"

Wesley followed the girl’s pointing finger, eyes widening at what he saw lunging out of the shadows. "Zombies! Don’t let them bite you!"

* * *

"Aaaaah!" Wood gasped as a hand punched out of the grass to grab his foot. "Aaaaah!" he pulled his foot away and looked around to see creatures crawling out of the ground. "They must be zombies! Form up a square!""

* * *

"She’s burning up," Giles sighed as he finished taking the Slayer’s temperature, "forty degrees. Her pulse is ninety, and blood pressure is one hundred and seventy over a hundred and twenty."

"What is it?" Jonathan snapped as he paced the book shop floor.

Giles glanced up at the youth, noting the desperate wildness in the young man’s eyes as he opted for a soothing tone. "Given all three of our groups were attacked by what appeared to be where zombies, I’d have to guess a bokor is to blame for all this."

"A b…bokor?" Willow stuttered. "What’s that?"

"A dark voodoo magician," Wesley explained. "Someone who corrupts voodoo’s usually benign practices for nefarious means. I’d imagine Giles believes that a voodoo doll has been used in combination with blood magics to remotely knock-out Faith."

"How do we cure this?" Gunn demanded.

Giles grimaced as Faith’s body twisted and contorted unnaturally, the Slayer moaning and whimpering under her breath. "The first step is to get our hands on Faith’s doll-."

"Faith and doll there’s two words I didn’t expect to hear in the same sentence." Xander coloured at his glare. "Sorry, go on."

"I’ll fashion a dissolution spell to get rid of the doll’s power," Giles continued. "That’ll end the spell on Faith." Giles looked around. "Xander, take Jonathan, Gunn, and Oz, and go down to Willy’s. Wesley, could you supervise a research session with Willow, Tara, and Amy. Cordelia," Giles looked towards the former cheerleading captain, "please help me restrain Faith, the way she’s thrashing about I’m worried she might hurt herself."

* * *

Willy groaned as the doors to his happily debauched club crashed open, and Harris and three of his companions walked in. He shook his head as one of the vamps started rising, only for Harris to flash a pistol crossbow from under his overcoat and shoot the demon square in the heart. "Anyone else thinking of moving don’t," the young man warned, his cold voice cutting through the hushed club, "we’re armed and we’re not happy."

"Hey boys," Willy smiled weakly as the quartet approached, no-body making a hostile move as the quartet cut through the bar, "what will it be? I got some real primo whiskey-."

He gasped when Gunn reached over the counter and picked him up by the throat. "If we want to drink crap we’ll lick from the gutter. What we need," the African-American lowered him back to the floor, "is information."

"Ahhh," Willy shook his head, "I…I don’t know anything. Town’s dead, nothing happenin’"

Gunn shook his head before turning to the statue-still bar patrons. "We really don’t want witnesses for what happens next. You can all leave now."

The stampede had barely begun when Jonathan leapt over the counter and kicked his legs from under him. Willy grunted as he hit the ground then squealed when the boy grabbed him by his hair and picked him up, the boy’s cold eyes meeting his scared ones. "You know about everything that happens in this town. You know all about Halloween, you all know about everyone getting possessed. Well the guy who possessed me," Willy tried to wriggle away when the boy smiled coldly. "He was a real expert in torture, both receiving and giving."

"Not for nothing," he heard Harris’ voice over the counter, "but I’d listen to him. He sounds-."

"Serious?" Oz finished for Harris.

"I’d go with psychotic," Harris argued.

"W…what do you want?" Willy squealed.

"The new mage in town, where is he?" Jonathan nodded as he quickly babbled out an address. "Good, but if you’re lying we’ll be back."

* * *

"I’ve got the plans!" Willow announced, proudly waving the print-out she’d hacked off the city computers.

"Excellent," Giles looked towards Xander and Wesley, "Jenny, Tara, and I will take care of Faith. I’d like the pair of you to lead the raid. And remember, we must have that doll."

* * *

Bokor Fumo’s head bounced to the reggae powering out of the boom-box speakers situated throughout the converted warehouse. He was sat on a throne set upon a wooden stage to the back of the warehouse, his converts dancing to the music on the open floor, bottles of rum and ganja cigarettes being passed around, everybody very careful not to step anywhere near the pit at the centre of the floor.

Fumo’s eyes narrowed as the front doors exploded open and some of the Slayer’s friends strode on. "You know," commented a tall brown-haired teen, eyes hard despite his youth, "I’d say this party is over."

Fumo rose, a sneer twisting his lips. "The Slayer’s friends, how predictably loyal." He looked towards his suddenly frozen converts. "Kill them," he ordered as he reached for his summonsing pipe and began playing his pet out of the pit.

A tall, buxom brunette let out a shout. "Harris! We’ll deal with that, the rest of you deal with the stooges!"

* * *

The snake that rose from the pit dwarfed anything she’d ever seen at Sunnydale zoo. Easily sixty feet in length, the reptile reared over them, the slanted crimson eyes in its triangular head promising a painful death. It scales glistened coldly and Cordelia’s blood congealed at the curved fangs gleaming in its mouth.

Gunn reared back when a forked tongue shot out of the serpent’s mouth, his lightning reactions saving him by the slightest fraction. Its mouth open, the giant snake twisted and lunged at Cordy.

"Do I look like a mouse!" Cordy dived for safety, hitting the ground on her shoulder. Cordy rolled up and away in time to see the snake’s head crash into the ground where she’d been stood, shattering a tile. The giant reptile’s angry hiss filled the air as it rose and shot towards Gunn. Cordys eyes widened when her girl-friend bounded fearlessly to meet it, axe swinging back.

The snake’s snout crashed into Gunn’s broad chest before he had chance to strike, the force of the collision knocking the muscular black on his back. Its triumphant hiss reverberating through the darkness, the reptile reared back.

Cordy’s hastily thrown punch slapped against the creature’s neck. The blow failed to pierce the monster’s tough hide but the distraction gave Gunn enough time to roll to safety. Cordy dragged her friend to his feet. "I really hated Anaconda," Gunn growled.

"And I thought you were a J-Lo fan," scoffed Cordy before sobering. "Grab your axe, I’ll distract it!"

The reptile’s head snapped left and right, eyes burning malevolently. Cordy barely saw the serpent’s tail flick up from behind before it smashed into the side of her head, tearing open an ugly cut over her left eye and knocking her into one of the warehouse’s pillars. Cordy flung herself to one side as the monster lunged at her. Carried along by its own momentum, the serpent crashed head first into the column that Cordy had slumped against.

Taking advantage of the serpent’s dazed condition; Cordy struggled to her feet and scooped up her sword. Even as she joined Gunn in rushing the monster, its head snapped towards them, eyes shining with implacable loathing. The reptile lunged at them only to veer away when Gunn crashed his axe into its forehead.

Cordy took advantage of the distraction to slash at the beast’s neck from the right, Gunn yanked out his axe and did the same from the left. Just as Cordy’s blade entered the reptile, spraying her with a frothy green blood, the monster wrapped its coils around her. In seconds her vision began to blur and her breath to come in choking gasps as the snake squeezed with bone-crushing intensity.

The crushing grip was suddenly released, dropping her to the ground. Momentarily unable to speak, she contented himself with a grateful nod at her boy-friend stood over the snake’s thrashing corpse before struggling to her feet. "If a girl ever wants to be thinner, all she needs is one of them as her pet. It’ll squeeze the fat right off!"

* * *

Bokor Fumo fumed as his pet died. Then he turned, his senses vibrating at the power approaching him. The red-haired girl was strong, perhaps four or even five times more powerful than him, but the little bitch didn’t have his-. "Godddddd!" he screamed as a wave of power hit him from behind.

Fumo crashed to his knees, shooting a disbelieving look over his shoulder to the timid-looking honey-blonde who’d just hit him with a wave of power. Caught off-guard, how embarrassing. Jaw tightening, he readied himself to strike back.

And then realised he’d been cut off from the power, its inky, enticing threads no longer in reach. "You really should pay attention," warned the red-head, sweat gleaming on her face, "because while you were distracted, I bound your powers."

"You bitch!" The girl flinched back as he leapt at her only to catch a foot in the gut from a small youth that doubled him up, knocking him back to the ground.

Before he could move the boy was kicking him, every boot driving yet more air from his lungs. He gasped as the youth grabbed his hair and pulled it, roughly twisting his head this way and that. "The doll, where is it?"

"I’d tell him," a deep voice suggested. "He gets protective when Faith’s hurt." He groaned as the black brought his foot down on his hand, breaking fingers. "But then we all do."

* * *

Freddy Iverson dropped down from the roof of one of the adjacent buildings, knees bent to better absorb the impact. His eyes jumped from the ablaze building and to the backs of the departing group, their bantering chatter touching a dark, lonely place in his heart.

Thanks to his inquisitive nature and journalistic instincts, he’d been aware of Sunnydale’s darker side for years. When he’d gotten his powers as a result of whatever went on at Halloween two years ago, that was something he’d never gotten to the bottom of, he’d intended to use them to help him write an expose on Sunnydale’s hidden side, publish it as fiction and watch the money roll in.

But in the months he’d been following Faith and her bunch he’d begun to feel a yearning for something else, something that had never interested him. He wanted to be included, a part of something greater than he was.

But on the other hand, there was his scoop…

* * *

The cramped room was shelved with books, weighty tomes on a variety of subjects – archaeology, anthropology, and geology. He was hunched over his desk, a far more esoteric volume, one relating to magics. Halloween had opened him up until an entire world he’d never dreamed of. It was just a matter of deciding what to do about it. He’d never been a decisive man, had lived his life in one educational institution or another, away from real life. Perhaps he was too old to change.

Or perhaps not. He licked his dry lips as he peered down at the book in his sweaty hands and continued reading.

* * *

Mr. Maclay swallowed as he peered up at the towering Kaliff demon. "You want a lot of money to do this," he whined.

He shuddered inwardly when the demon smiled, baring its teeth. "Your wife and girl have got some heavy-duty friends," the Kaliff growled. "I’m gonna have to hire extra bodies on this job. Question is, how much do you want them back?"

Maclay smiled grimly as his wife’s face flashed before his eyes, a red mist descending before his eyes. "I want them back," he decided.

He’d take the cost of getting them back out of those two uppidity bitches’ hides.

"Any idea why Giles called us here Wes?" Faith queried as she entered the converted warehouse that served as the gym and headquarters of their operation, joining the rest of them already congregated there.

"Only that’s it’s quite important," the Englishman replied before looking towards Jenny. "Do you know anything Jenny?"

The techno-pagan shook her head. "I’m afraid not."

"That sounds like the wreck he calls his car." Xander glanced out of the window, his jaw tightening. "Oh you have got to be kidding me! No-way, no how!"

Everyone looked towards the angered young man, wondering what had set him off. "Xander," Alonna asked, "what’s wrong?"

"Why," Xander shot Giles a baleful look as he strode in, a good-looking blonde ‘bout their age following him, "don’t you ask him?"

"Heidi!" Willow gasped, Oz shooting his paling girl-friend a typically inscrutable look.

Faith’s eyes narrowed as by contrast Jonathan took a step forward as if to greet the girl before stepping back. "Ah yes," the Englishman shot an uneasy glance around the room, purposefully avoiding both Xander and Willow. "I had thought there might be some alarm to Ms. Barrie’s inclusion-."

"Inclusion in what?" Xander interrupted, eyes hard. "The bowling league? Because I know you don’t mean our group."

Giles didn’t flinch away from Xander’s suspicious gaze. Instead he met it head on, the pair of them like duelling drivers playing chicken. "It appears your suspicions were correct, people outside our group have kept at least vestiges of our Halloween personalities-."

Xander’s eyes remained fixed on the now shrinking back blonde. "And that concerns us why?"

"Because," Giles’ voice remained patient, but he looked like he was barely managing to contain Ripper, "Heidi has come here and asked for help-."

"I refer you to my earlier question," Xander snapped.

Giles’ lips thinned into a disapproving line. "At Halloween she was possessed by the character X-23-."

"That’s why-." Jonathan fell silent at a puzzled look from her.

"Bloody hell," Giles grunted, "one day you’ll let me finish a soddin’ sentence." The Watcher shook his head before continuing. "And as a result Heidi wants to both aid us in our mission and find out more about the new abilities she has." Giles’ eyes appeared to bore in to Xander. "I understand she already asked you for help some weeks ago but you refused."

"Well of course I did!" Xander snapped. "She ate Principal Flutie!"

"Xander," Giles shot her bud a disapproving look. "I hardly think you’re being fair. No-one blames you for your indiscretions while possessed."

"No," Faith wondered at Xander’s flinch at Giles’ words. "But the difference is I wasn’t of the school’s main bullies before the possession. She," Xander glanced towards the newcomer, "was acting like a total bitch way before the possession."

It was the sensually curved blonde’s turn to again flinch. "I learnt from that, I didn’t want to be that person anymore. That’s why I’m here, I want to help."

"Oh," Xander’s laugh was distinctly unamused, "and I’m supposed to just believe that?"

"No," this came from an expressionless Oz, "but you can believe me, and her heartbeat indicates she’s not lying."

"Well shit," Faith felt moved to comment, "ain’t we got enough people already?"

"Faith," Giles shot her one of those patient looks that really pissed her off sometimes. "When you’re fighting an unceasing war as we are, we can never have too many assets. Ms. Barrie’s senses are as enhanced as Oz and Jonathan’s, and her healing, reflexes, strength, and stamina are at slightly-beyond peak human capacities. In addition, she is a gifted martial artist."

Faith gritted her teeth. As logical as the older Watcher’s argument was, she just did not like the way the new bitch and Johnny kept looking at one another.

* * *

Louise Maclay sighed wearily as she made her way home, shoulders and back tight from a hard day spent sat crouched over a sewing machine at the sweatshop she worked at. It paid virtually nothing but had the advantage of not having any records on file for her husband to trace.

Louise sighed again. It seemed even after leaving him states behind, he still dominated their lives, casting a fearful shadow over her and her daughter’s lives. But at least they didn’t have to suffer his uncertain temper, foul mouth, and cruel fists anymore.

Louise came to a halt outside their ground floor apartment and rummaged through her handbag for her keys, eyes going left and right as she looked through the advancing shadows, her daughter having made her well-aware of Sunnydale’s other menaces. Her daughter, Louise smiled fondly. Her shy Tara fighting beside a Slayer, it did a mother proud to see the fine girl her daughter had grown to be, despite her father’s influence.

The door creaked open, and Louise hurried into the one room apartment she shared with her daughter. She jumped as the door crashed shut behind her, eyes widening at the hulking demon sat in the room’s solitary arm chair. Heart racing, she attempted to back out, only to find herself grabbed by two more demons.

"Who? How? Why?" Louise gasped, eyes bulging.

The demon grinned as he rose out of his seat. "Your husband paid us a lot to get you back." Louise shook her head, body suddenly limp with terror. "You and your daughter." The demon looked towards his men. "Get her to the van."

* * *

Freddy checked his notes as he made his way to the Maclay apartment. He knew enough about the ‘Scoobies’, but he needed background, to find out their motivations. Of course he had to make sure he didn’t raise anyone’s suspicions, but it was just a case of asking the right questions the right way.

His eyes narrowed as he caught the scent of something alien, a warrior’s instinct sending him into a squat by a tan-brown sedan. An apartment six doors to the left and across the door crashed open and a trio of hulking demons stormed out, a woman that Freddy recognised as Tara’s mother, in their arms. One of the demons opened the rear door, the other two flung the apparently limp woman into the back of the van, before climbing in, the van screeching away from the kerb.

Freddy grimaced. Keeping his surveillance a secret was no longer an option. He had to get to Giles’ book shop and fast.

* * *

"We’re going to have to tell the others about us."

Tara blushed even as she grinned at her girl-friend, her hand in hers. "Us?"

"Don’t be coy," Amy chidingly bumped her hip into hers. "We should wait until this mess with Heidi is over with though."

"Ha, how sweet."

Tara had only just begun to look up when a demon’s right fist crashed into her forehead. The last thing she saw before passing out was the same happening to her girl-friend.

* * *

Griff glanced at the photo Maclay had given him before pointing down at the honey-blonde. "She’s the one we want."

"What about her?" his companion queried.

"Leave her." He snorted. "Looks like some vamp’s getting a free snack."

* * *

Giles was just a couple of steps away from the shop door when it swung open. "I’m afraid I’m just about to close-," he smiled belatedly as he recognised the young man stood on the doorstep as one of the few Sunnydale High students to frequent his library. "Mr. Iverson, and just how is Sunnydale’s answer to Woodrow and Bernstein?"

"Mr. Giles," he belatedly noted the young man’s distressed expression, "Tara’s mom has been abducted by demons."

Giles’ brow furrowed. The young man’s worry precluded him thinking it was some sort of wind-up. "These demons, what did they look like?" he demanded, alarm tingeing his tone.

Freddy pursed his lips for a second before answering. "They were tall, powerfully built bipeds with orange skin, two eyes, two sharp ridges running from the front to the back of their heads and spikes running from one side of their jaw to the other."

"You have a good eye," Giles praised as he hurriedly sent out an emergency page to the group’s members.

"Do you know what they were?" Freddy queried.

"Yes," Giles hurried the young man to the door, "Kaliffs. Nasty creatures, probably the closest the demon world has to Mafioso muscle, thugs. Not especially powerful or intelligent, but tough and cunning. Now, thank you for your help, I’ll be in touch."

"No," Freddy shook his head. "I have other information, the registration." The boy hesitated. "And the scent."

Oh another one. Giles counted to ten before asking. "The scent?"

"I’ve got the van’s scent in my nose," Freddy explained. "I can track them as long as the scent’s fresh. But we have to hurry."

Bloody Sunnydale, this town it’d drive a Sally Army preacher to drink. "We’ll go as soon as the others are here."

* * *

Giles looked around the mouldy apartment with its dreary walls, threadbare carpeting, and clean but worn furniture, his stomach clenched in sympathetic pain. "Tara and her mother were living here?" he half-spoke, half-snarled as he shot an accusatory look around his companions. "And did no-one think to tell me about this? Did no-one think I’d care?"

"Hey," Faith flinched guiltily. "You can’t blame any of us. Tar never invited us back here, we always had to meet some place else."

"And didn’t that make you realise that something might be wrong?" Wesley queried.

"Hey hold on," Xander snapped, "none of you noticed either!"

"We’re hardly her school-friends and peers are we!" Giles retorted.

"QUIET!" Everyone turned to a suddenly red-faced Willow. "We can deal with this later, what’s important is finding Tara and her mom, and fast!"

"Of course," Giles nodded. "Freddy and I will go in my car, the rest of you follow in yours."

"Sure G," Faith smirked, "only ya think you can find second gear, we’re sorta on the clock here?"

* * *

Amy groaned as the theme to ‘7^th Heaven" started playing in her head. Her eyes fluttered slowly open as she slowly realised it wasn’t the TV show, but her cell’s ring-tone. She froze as she reached in her pocket, the memory of their attack. "Oh goddess." She scrabbled the phone open. "Giles! Tara-."

"We know," the Englishman’s calm voice wasn’t quite as soothing as normal, "we’re on their path. You head to the shop and we’ll bring Tara and her mother there. Now where were you attacked?"

* * *

"They were at the university," Giles informed Freddy as he hung up. "We’re heading in the right direction."

"I told you." Freddy pointed towards an arched alcove. "That’s the van."

"And that’s," Giles scowled as he saw a trio of figures hurrying towards the van, "Tara!" His foot slammed down on the accelerator, bolting the car forward, screeching it around the parked van, blocking its path. "Get them!"

The van’s doors crashed open and half a dozen Kaliffs leapt out even as his people’s cars screeched to a halt. And then the fight was on.

* * *

Giles watched as the Slayer blurred towards the biggest of the Kaliffs. He winced as the curvy brunette took a right to the head without blinking, her retaliatory kick at the demon’s belly slapped away as the demon lunged forward and attempted to scoop the Slayer up. Faith replied by pulling her knees up into her ample chest and kicking off, feet slamming into the demon’s chest.

The demon released his grip on the feisty Bostonian and stumbled back. Faith fell to the ground but landed in a cat-like crouch and darted to meet the Kaliff. The Kaliff lunged at the Slayer, throwing a left hook the teen blocked on her forearm and a straight right that she slipped under before driving a knee into her rival’s gut. The demon doubled up, Faith hooked an arm around the demon’s shoulder, twisted at the waist and flung it to the ground.

The demon started to get up but Faith caught it with a quick heel kick to the jaw, its head snapping to the side. The demon fell onto its back with a grunt. Faith snarled as she continued her attack, stamping on her rival’s left elbow, the bone cracking and the demon howling. "Think you can come here and kidnap my friends!" Faith grabbed the demon by the back of his head and pulled him up, injured arm flapping loosely. "Think you can hurt them?" The Slayer butted the demon in the face, his nose shattering. "Think you can attack my gang?" The Slayer drove the demon’s head down and into the concrete.

"Faith," the Slayer stiffened at his voice, "I rather think he has got the message. Should his employer fail to get it, we’ll deliver it personally."

"Five by five." The curvy Bostonian released her grip on the demon’s head and rose to her feet. And then kicked the groaning demon in the gut. "There’s a reminder, mother-fucker!"

* * *

Lockley stuck her head deep in her paperwork as she spied Stein entering the busy squad-room. The balding detective’s reputation had been one of the first things she’d heard about upon her arrival in Sunnydale, and if there was one person she wanted to avoid it was him.

Unfortunately the balding detective made a bee-line for her desk. "Hello Lockley."

Kate reluctantly raised her head and nodded at the supposedly senior officer. "Hello sir."

If Stein noted the frost in her tone he showed no sign of it. "We’re starting a new unit, a Nocturnal Activities Unit, and we’re looking for the best, only volunteers mind. Are you interested?"

"No thank you, sir." Lockley stared at the detective before shaking her head. Even if there wasn’t Stein’s bad reputation to consider, her work with the group had to come first.

Stein’s eyes flickered with disappointment. "Very well." The detective nodded stiffly. "If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to get in touch."

* * *

Giles stiffened as he sensed a presence behind him. Turning, he nodded towards the slight youth, noting his staring blue eyes and thin features. "Hello, Freddy."

"Hello Mr. Giles," the former school journalist nodded nervously. "Are Tara and her mother all right?"

"Yes, thanks in large part to your efforts," Giles nodded at the young man. "Although I am puzzled to just why you were at their apartment?"

"Good," the young man reached into the plastic bag he held by his side and passed him a trio of books. "These are the records I’ve made of your activities over the past two years."

Giles stared at the dog-eared reporter’s notebooks the young man had passed him and then their writer. "I do hope you’re not trying to black-mail us?"

His voice was even, expressionless, but the youth flinched nevertheless. "No," the boy shuffled from foot to foot. "That’s just to prove that I’ve been able to follow your gang for months and not be spotted, that must prove something right?"

Giles’ brow furrowed. The former school reporter had a point. Both Oz and Jonathan at least should have been able to detect him. "All right then," he nodded. "Tell me how you did it?"

"Sure," the youth nodded jerkily. "At Halloween I was Ka-Zar, Lord Of The Jungle. In addition to making me more agile, faster, and stronger, my senses are really attuned. And I know everything there is to know about tracking and woodcraft."

"Very interesting," Giles nodded. "And why are you telling me this?"

The boy licked his lips before replying. "I want to join your group."

"Oh," Giles raised an eyebrow. That was surprising. He wouldn’t have pegged Frederick for the adventurous type. Perhaps these changes were deeper than just physical. "And why is that?"

The boy shrugged, thin cheeks flushing. "I just want to be a part of something."

Ah, Giles nodded in understanding, loneliness was Freddy’s motivating factor. "You understand that what we do is very dangerous?"

"I’m not an idiot!" The youth’s eyes flashed angrily. "I’ve been following you around for months, I know what you do, I know how you help people!"

Giles stared at the young man. "May I search your mind?" The youth stared open-minded at him. "Just to check your motivations. I give you my word I won’t look any deeper than that."

"Um," after a second the young man nodded nervously. "Okay."

"Thank you." Giles stared at the lad for a moment before nodding. "If you’re sure, meet me at our gym tonight."

"Right," Freddy nodded, "thanks."

"My pleasure, Freddy." He only hoped that Freddy’s addition was met with rather more enthusiasm than Heidi’s.

* * *

"Ah, you’re here." Mr. Giles opened the door to his apartment. "By all means, enter if you can."

"Thank you," Louise led her daughter into Mr. Giles’ lovingly maintained apartment.

"Jenny, dear," Giles glanced over his shoulder and towards the kitchen, "the Maclays are here, could you put the kettle on?"

"I’ll get right on it Rupert."

"Thank you my dear." Rupert looked towards her and her daughter into the lounge. "Please, take a seat."

"Thank you," after a second Louise joined her daughter in sitting on the cream coloured sofa, all the while wondering just why they’d been invited to Mr. Giles’ apartment.

"I must admit to being most disenchanted with you, Ms. Maclay and you too, Tara."

Louise started at the irritated note in the Englishman’s voice. Mr. Giles and his group had been more than kind, welcoming them both in their lives, accepting them. But she couldn’t help but react with trepidation when a man’s voice hardened. "Why in the world didn’t you tell any of us about how you were living?" The man’s voice softened when she flinched. "Good lord, you don’t think I’m-."

Mr. Giles looked towards Tara. "Between your college studies and work with Jenny, you can hardly be expected to work a job." Mr. Giles turned to her. "That will leave me short-handed, would you be interested in the position? Unfortunately I can’t pay much, but I am willing to give you a half-ownership in the shop."

"H…half," Louise stared at the Englishman.

The Englishman smiled suddenly, his eyes suddenly sparkling. "Shall I assume that’s a yes?"

"Xander, I was wondering if we coul-."

The dark-haired Californian leapt up off the lat machine, head shaking. "Look," the fellow Sunnydale High Alumni loomed over her, his body gleaming with sweat, "Giles is our leader, and if he says you’re a part of our group I unfortunately have to accept that. But no one tells me who my friends are. So you stay the furthest part of any room we’re in away from me and we’ll do just fine, do we understand each other?"

In theory she was just as strong if not stronger than Harris, but that didn’t take into account the blazing fire in his eyes. She didn’t know if it was the thoughtless years of bullying the likes of Willow or his wish to distance himself from their shared hyena experience or a combination of both. But it hardly mattered, what did was Xander’s unsurpassed hostility. "I’ll stay away."

"Make sure you do." Xander scowled before moving over to the dumbbell racks. Heidi stared sadly after the man as he lifted a pair of 120lbs and began doing shrugs.

"He’s taken."

Heidi turned at the Slayer’s voice behind her. She licked her lips at the antagonism in the Slayer’s voice. "I wasn’t tryi-."

"I was always the ho’s kid, the trailer trash, the second-hand brat," Faith continued over her. "Made me a real easy target for bullies. Just so you know, if it comes down to a choice, I’ll always be on the opposite side to you. Xan doesn’t want you near him, stay the hell away."

Heidi’s shoulders slumped as the east coast transplant stalked away. She’d joined the ‘Scoobies’ to find somewhere where she belonged, but it seemed she was more alone than ever.

* * *

"The takings for the week are up five percent," Teeth kept his eyes respectfully down as he talked to his boss, the diminutive kid sat behind the shrouded in darkness desk. For years he’d run the small-time demon rackets, fencing, extortion, Orpheus dens, loan-sharking, and the town’s solitary demon brothel. Then eighteen months ago the kid had strutted into his office and blithely informed him he was taking over.

He’d been tempted to snap the spindly-limbed dwarf’s neck but something in his eyes had stopped him. The guy had taken over, tightening his operation, making it even more underground while ruthlessly stamping out the other operators. "That sounds good, what about that money Marcel owes us for clearing his bets?"

"He’s still making excuses," Teeth hedged.

"Um." Teeth heard rather than saw his boss’ fingers tap on the desk. "He seems to think the rules of business don’t apply to him. Make an example, kill him. But make sure you make a mess doing it."

"We’ll lose the money he owes us."

"True." The darkness shrouded man chuckled or rather giggled. "But we’ll make it back and more in the long run when our other borrowers hear what happened to him. And they will hear won’t they?"

"You got it boss," Teeth nodded as he backed out, trying but failing to shrug off the icy finger stroking his spine.

"I’ll be remembered," his boss giggled, "just like Sauron, Vader, and Luthor!"

* * *

London, England.

"Ah, Ms. Post, please take a seat." Travers studied the severe-featured woman as she sat. She was dressed casually but smartly, grey trousers and matching blouse, the competent air that surrounded her tinged with a little impatience. "What can you tell me about Myhnegon?"

"Myhnegon?" Post’s brow furrowed and her lips pursed. "Ah yes, of course. I believe he was a Telum, the last of that particularly vicious race of South American demons that were defeated three and a half thousand years ago. As I recall he was a sorcerer and weapon-smith. Angered by his people’s demise, I believe he made a series of increasingly powerful weapons and hid them throughout the world in the hope that they would be discovered and used to wreck havoc on his race’s killers. ‘The Deliverer Of Death’, ‘The Sender Of Souls’, and ‘Heart’s Misery’ were just three of them-."

"The Glove has been found," he interrupted with five simple but ominous words.

"The Glove?" Post’s clear blue eyes widened, pale cheeks flushing with excitement. "The records on Myhnegon aren’t detailed, but what they are clear on is his Glove was the most powerful of his creations!"

"Quite," Travers nodded smugly. He knew he’d made the right choice plucking Post from the dusty Archives Department. Unlike the rest of the librarians down there, she had spine in addition to a sharp, resourceful mind.

If she got a few successful field missions under her belt, she might even be his replacement in a decade or so, even without having served as a Slayer’s Watcher. With Dormer and Merrick’s untimely demises, and Giles and Pryce’s desertion, aside from Post and Robson there just wasn’t much choice left in the younger generation. Anyone else, Zabuto, Crowley, Lassister, or Roger Wyndam-Pryce were either his age or even older.

Returning to the matter in hand, he continued. "Unfortunately the Glove is somewhere in Sunnydale-."

"The Slayer?"

"Yes," Travers sniffed disdainfully. The low-born bitch might have been Chosen by the Powers, but one day he’d eliminate her and her cohorts. And the Glove would be the first step to that, and then rebuilding the Council to its pre-eminent position in the supernatural world. "I want you to take the special operations team to Sunnydale-."

Post’s nose wrinkled. "The special operations -."

"Even if you don’t run into the Slayer I assure you you’ll be glad of their presence," he interrupted, a hint of steel entering his voice. "Don’t confront the Slayer or her cohorts. Just get the Glove and return home."

"Understood sir,"

Travers smirked inwardly as Post walked out. Giles and his gang of miscreants might have run him out of Sunnydale, but when he got the Glove all that would change. And yes, maybe it was time a new Slayer was Called, the one they had was far too independent for his tastes.

* * *

W&H Offices, LA

"Ha, Agent Hauser," Holland smiled as the head of his Special Operations team entered his office. "I trust you received the email briefing I sent you?"

"Yes sir."

Holland stated at the square-jawed, hard-eyed man. He was stood casually at the other side of the desk, casually yet also primed to strike at a moment’s notice, like a stalking leopard.

Just the man they needed for this job.

"Get your men ready," he ordered. "You’re leaving on a plane to Sunnydale in under an hour. Stay out of the Slayer’s way, but bring back the Glove, it has the power to be a pivotal weapon in the end of days."

* * *

Jonathan crept into the deserted gym. It was weird, now he was stronger than the average human if not as powerful as some of the people who worked out here. And yet some vestige of the past remained, a self-consciousness at doing anything physical around others. In the heat of battle, he forgot all about that but training was different, he always tried to schedule his gym-time when others weren’t around.

He walked towards the male changing room then stopped as he heard crying coming from the female changing room. He turned to the door and then stopped, a blush rising in his cheeks at the thought of entering a place he’d always dreamed of sneaking into during his high school days.

The door swung open as he crept inside. "Is there-, are you alright?" He took a step back when he belatedly recognised the sniffling blonde sat towards the back of the changing room. "Heidi," he muttered as he flashed back to school, the gang stealing his lunch, forcing his head down the toilet, and a load of other indignities.

He took a step back, not wanting to face the blonde. Then she looked up, eyes meeting his. "Please don’t go."

"Okay." After a nervous second spent staring at one of his youth’s tormentors he stalked over to the blonde and sat down. "What’s up?"

"I tried to talk to Xander, he blew me out," Heidi smiled weakly. "T…then your girl-friend hammered home the point."

"What did you expect?" The girl’s wince didn’t make him feel as good as he’d expected. "Faith and Xander look out for one another, they always have." Jonathan paused, distracted by Heidi’s alluring scent. "We’ve been a group for a long time, you just need to give the others time to get used for you, that’s all."

* * *

"Hey," Owen hurried into the 50s-style diner, the rumble of the cars passing by outside dwindling as the door swung shut behind him. "Sorry I’m late, work you know."

"That’s okay," Michael nodded, the Goth’s dark eyes peeking out from beneath his wild fringe, "you’re here now."

"What do you want, honey?"

Owen glanced up at the bored-looking waitress, her eyes wearing far too many years for her twenty-something body. "Um," he glanced at the laminated menu then back up at the waitress, "I’ll have a cheeseburger, fries, onion rings, and a diet coke-."

"Oh good move on the diet coke," Theresa snorted, "that’ll make all the difference."

Owen ignored Theresa’s sniping to finish speaking "Thank you."

The moment the waitress had brought him his filled to capacity tray and walked away, Larry spoke. "We need to talk about getting in contact with Mr. Giles and the others."

Owen groaned theatrically. Not this again. "It makes sense," Lance unsurprisingly took his boy-friend’s side. "I mean together we’d be even stronger. Faith on her own is stronger than any of us, and neither Cordy nor Gunn are exactly weaklings either."

"Xander, Jonathan, and Oz are all badasses," Larry pointed out.

"Then there’s Tara, Willow, and Amy," Lance fired back. "They’re all real witches. And no offence Michael, but we’ve only gotta him."

"Yeah, sure, and the librarian and all the others kick seven kinds of ass," Scott allowed. "But they might not like us patrolling. They might think we’re interfering in their business."

"God knows," Devon spoke up, "Faith’s-."

"Hot," Owen said dreamily.

"Notwithstanding your good taste," Devon smirked. "I was gonna say territorial. She always seemed to be the sort who decided if she wanted you around before letting you in. She finds out we’ve been working here, she might get violent."

A silence followed the singer’s words. "I don’t see it," Larry shook his head. "Faith was temperamental, she might get pissed sure, but violent?"

"You never saw her kick three of the football team’s assess for hazing Jonathan, just before Halloween," Theresa commented.

"Huh," Lance shook his head. "Whatever those assholes got, they deserved."

"Look," Scott sighed, "we’ve been going around on this subject for months and gotten no-where, we’re at a stalemate."

"Hallelujah," Owen looked around theatrically, "and the award for the most obvious statement goes to?"

Scott glared at him before continuing. "So what I suggest is we continue as things are, but if we are attacked by something we can’t handle we go to them. Or if they’re attacked by something they can’t handle, we go to help them and work things out later."

"Yeah," Devon nodded. "I can live with that." The others muttered agreement.

"That’s settled then," Owen looked at the menu. "Now for desserts?"

* * *

"Ah," Jenny’s face lit up as she answered the door, "Wesley, Giles is in the lounge."

"Thank you," Wesley dipped his head respectfully before striding inside and making his way through to the lounge.

"Ah Wesley," Giles nodded at the two empty armchairs, "please pull up a pew."

"Thank you." He’d barely sat down when Jenny strode in and perched on the sofa beside his elder countryman, Giles’ arm snaking around his long-time girlfriend’s slender shoulders. "While I’m honoured to be invited to your home, I’m a little puzzled why."

"Because," Giles grimaced slightly before glancing towards Jenny and then him, "what I wish to suggest might be best described as contentious."

"Really?" Wesley took a sip of the tea that Jenny had placed in front of him. "Now I’m intrigued."

"I was thinking given our recent recruits that perhaps we should consider splitting into four rather than three patrols," Giles said.

"Really?" Wesley raised a non-committal eyebrow. "We haven’t yet seen either of them in action, isn’t it a little presumptuous?"

"Perhaps," Giles admitted, "but I think we should at least consider this matter. After all, should we get four patrols working we might even be able to work out a rota where we get a night off occasionally. "

"A night off?" Wesley chuckled. "I can’t even remember what they are." Wesley sobered. "Still Freddy and Heidi’s lack of experience is worrying."

"Then once we’ve tested them we ensure they’re never teamed together until they’re sufficiently experienced," Giles suggested. "Also we’ll make sure the groups with them in are sufficiently strong to offset any potential inexperience problems."

"That could work," Welsey conceded. "However the next question is who will command the fourth patrol?"

"You, myself, and Xander currently command the three patrols," Giles paused. "I would suggest Wood for the fourth."

"Wood?" Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure he can be trusted?"

Giles stared steadily at him for a moment. "Like as not, Wood’s the Watcher to the three most likely Potentials," Wesley stiffened in his seat, "should anything happen to Faith-."

"Nothing’s going to happen to her!" Wesley was surprised by the heat in his reply.

"Rupert doesn’t want anything to happen to her." Jenny leaned across and squeezed his hand. "He’s only preparing for every eventuality."

Wesley nodded grudgingly. "We’ve kept him at arm’s length for a time now," Giles continued. "We need to integrate him more with us, and consider who possessed him. According to everything I’ve read about him, The Black Panther was a master strategist and tactician. The only other candidate is Jonathan but he still lacks the confidence to lead. By bringing Wood closer we may also create greater bonds of loyalty."

"And what if he uses this new-found closeness to betray us?" Wesley queried.

"You forget who I was," Giles replied. "Besides, with every significant victory we’ve had, I sense Robin finds it harder to deny the effectiveness of our methods or our team."

Wesley pursed his lips momentarily before nodding. "Very well."

"Now that’s settled," Jenny smiled. ""Would you like to stay for tea, Wesley? Rupert’s cooking his roast lamb tonight, it’s his speciality."

"I wouldn’t want to intrude," Wesley demurred.

"Nonsense, old bean," Giles shook his head, "no imposition at all! In fact there’s another matter I’d like to discuss with you too."

"Then I’d love to." Wesley forced a smile. Although the invite was more than welcome it came with the unfortunate side-effect of exposing him to yet more of Giles and Jenny’s closeness. He didn’t envy them their love, he just wish he had someone of his own.

* * *

"Holy shit," Faith gasped as she saw the demon clambering out of one of Sunnydale’s many mausoleums. The thing was tall, an easy foot and a half taller than her, with wide shoulders, a hideously speckled face, ram-like horns down-hanging either side of its face, lank hair, and body odour to make a boys’ locker room smell pleasant by comparison.

And then she was surging forward, ducking under a haymaker to deliver one of her own to the demon’s chest. "That’s encouraging," she muttered at the demon’s laugh then followed up with a flying side kick to the demon’s pectorals. Her backhand punch was followed up by a left to the gut and finally another right, this one an uppercut to the chin.

All which were met with complete indifference.

"Ugggh!" Faith grunted as the massive demon grabbed her by the throat and flung her into the mausoleum’s side. Teeth gritted in pain, Faith leapt up and into a brain-scrambling right into the jaw that knocked her back onto the ass, quickly followed by a stamp that she only just managed to roll away from.

The moment she made her feet, Faith attempted a right hook that the demon blocked on his forearm. Air exploded from her when the demon caught her with a right to the gut that doubled her up. The demon grabbed for her neck, but then Oz was there, grabbing its arm and getting a flattening elbow to the nose in reply.

Suddenly Wes was between her and the massive demon, ducking a right and connecting with a flurry of blows to the demon’s torso even as Jonathan was kicked away from the demon’s legs. And then her Watcher caught an elbow to the head that knocked him on his ass.

Faith lunged forward, her kick to the knee sending the demon stumbling over a school-boying Jonathan. The demon fell onto its back and started to sit up. Faith sailed over her knelt friend, catching the demon with a double drop-kick to the face. Faith landed in a crouch beside the stunned demon, her foot stomping down and through its neck.

"Damn," Faith whistled. "That son of a bitch could take a licking and keep on tickin’." Faith groaned as she noted the look on Wes’ face. "Lay the shit on me, Wes."

"We need to see Giles immediately," Wesley muttered as he dragged himself to his feet.

"I knew you’d say that," Faith mourned.

* * *

Sunnydale Motor Inn

"These are hardly the surroundings I’m used to," Post sniffed disdainfully as she stared at the simple motel run-down and plain front. A far cry from the Ritz or the Hilton.

"Ah love," smirked Blair. "This is the bloody Hellmouth enjoy the experience."

Post turned her scornful stare onto the Council operative. Once the special ops team had consisted of battle-hardened soldiers. Now they were hiring suspect former cops. Hardly a rise in the quality. "It’s Ma’am, not love."

The hired thug seemed to shrink before her gaze. "Bloody hell though, I’d like to get a run at the Slayer, kill the treacherous bitch."

Post’s eyes hardened. "You stay away from her. The orders are to get the Glove and get out. Nothing more, nothing less. Understand?" She was satisfied by the operative’s quick nod. "Good, now get the equipment inside, we’ll start our search in the morning."

A secret smile played on her lips as her four companions scurried into action. Once she got her hands on the Glove, there’d be no more taking orders for her. No, then, Travers, the Slayer, all of them, would learn the true meaning of power.

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