Title: Heroes Never Just Fade Away

Rating: R

Story: Action\Adventure

Feedback: In lieu of a Faithbot yeah.

E-Mail: KeithWrestle@Yahoo.Co.uk

Disclaimer: If I own the characters, why have Faith and Cordelia escaped? Woe is me.

"Well, personally, I kind of want to slay the dragon." Angel replied. "Let's go to work," he finished before starting forward, eyes fixed on the swarming hordes charging them.

"Always good to have a plan, mate."

Angel’s mouth opened to reply to his smart-ass grand-childe. Suddenly the ground shuddered beneath his feet, knocking him onto his back. An ear-pounding explosion boomed through the cold night air, causing the blood to thunder through his head. His eyes widened as the approaching demonic mob were consumed in fire and the two buildings flanking the monsters collapsed in on themselves, large masonry falling on the screaming beasts.

"Wow. That went even better than I expected," commented an unanticipated but very familiar voice behind him.

Unable to believe what he was hearing, Angel sprang to his feet and spun around to confront the smirking interloper. "Harris! What are you doing here?"

"That’s gratitude for you, hey X?"

Angel looked up to the fire escape landing above, his ability to be shocked rapidly diminishing but he was still surprised to see another familiar figure looking down at him, a trademark sardonic expression on her face. "Faith."

"The one," the Slayer grabbed a hold of the fire escape of the rail and vaulted over it to the ground, landing on the rain-slicked cobbles with feet spread, and knees bent to minimise the impact, "the only. How’s it hanging?"

"Who are these people, vampire?" Illyria demanded.

Even the rain-swept darkness, Angel saw Faith’s eyes flash. "Back the fuck off, Blue Bitch. FYI, Fred was a real nice gal and seeing some demon slut walking around in her body is pissing me off. And if there’s one thing ya don’t wanna see is me pissed off."

"Amen to that," Xander muttered, "three days a month and I just find myself a bunker and hide."

"You think to speak to the great Illyria in such a tone!" screamed the goddess.

Faith smiled at her. "Just did, didn’t I?"

"Oooh," Spike put in, "cat-fight."

Angel decided to step in before things got physical. "Look," he stepped between the two glaring females, definite battle of the Alpha-females, "let’s get out of here before starting the hair-pulling contest."

"Hate to say it," Xander glanced towards the wreckage. "But Deadboy has a point."

"Oooh."

Faith’s face softened at Gunn’s moan. In an instant the Slayer was crouched down by the injured African-American. "Yo, Chuck," she whispered, "hang in on there tough guy. It’ll be five by five." The brunette glanced over her shoulder to Xander. "X? Wanna get us some help?"

"Sure," Xander spoke into a handset. "Girls, we need you now."

Angel’s eyes widened as a dozen or so ropes dropped from the two buildings flanking them, and a whole bunch of teen girls, every one of them a Slayer, rappelled down to their position even as another ten or so girls charged towards them from the far side of the alley. Just what was going on? "You idiot," he looked towards a suddenly furious looking Xander Harris, the look in the man’s solitary eye strangely disconcerting, "you’ve no idea what you’ve done have you?"

* * *

Connor gasped as he ran home, his side a mass of bruises. He’d been hit harder than Hamilton had hit him, but only by the Beast. But his pain was a secondary concern next to Angel. What was going to happen to him? He wished now he’d stayed, it wasn’t as if he had a great record of obeying his biological father.

But that was the problem, he’d done so much wrong in the past, he had to do this for his father.

Turning the corner leading into his street, he stopped, eyes narrowing as he noted his mother and father stood by the door to their house, arguing with two women. Speeding up, Connor was at his house in seconds. "What’s going on here?" he demanded as he pulled to a stop, hackles rising. He’d never hit a girl, well unless he counted falsely but fondly remembered pillow fights with his sister, but there was something about these two girls that got his hackles rising. Something that told him they were warriors. Not to mention something strangely familiar, although he could have sworn that he’d never met either of them in either of his lives.

The girls, one a dread-locked African-American beauty, the other a pretty, red-head, turned to face him. "Connor," the black girl spoke, "I’m Rona, and this is Vi, you need to come with us, now. All three of you."

Connor shook his head and crossed his arms. "I don’t think so."

"Damn it," said Vi, "we’re here to protect you."

Connor laughed. "Really don’t need any. And why should I trust you?"

The black girl smiled. "Break me off a switch, son. There's about to be a whoppin'."

Connor blinked, something stirring in his memories. Realising his father was starting towards the girls, hand reaching into his pocket to probably grab his cell, Connor stepped into his father’s path. "It’s okay, dad," he soothed before turning to the girls, "you know Faith?"

"Not biblically," Vi smirked, "we’re strictly monogamous lesbians."

His eyes widened at the visual images, absently noting his father’s choked coughing and mother’s blushing. "Not helping, Vi," Rona admonished. "We know her, she sent us to get you."

"My-," conscious of the presence of his adoptive parents, he changed what he’d been about to say, "Angel-."

"Faith and the others are taking care of it," Rona interrupted. "Now, are you coming? You’ll all be targets."

"The rest of the family-," his father began.

This time it was Vi who interrupted. "We know all about them. We have teams all over the city, retrieving them. Now," the red-head looked around, "let’s get a move on."

Connor looked towards his parents. "It’s for the best, dad."

After a second his father nodded, his expression bemused. "Very well. I’ll need to get some-."

"No time," Vi shook her head. "The others will be waiting."

His father looked towards, eyes pleading for guidance. After a second he nodded. "We better go, then."

* * *

"And what the hell’s that supposed to mean?" Angel kept one eye on Gunn as the groaning African-American was loaded onto a stretcher and the other on Harris.

He was unsurprised when the human returned his glare with interest. The boy had never been bright enough to be scared when the situation demanded it, and surrounded by almost thirty Slayers, Angel supposed he had even less reason to feel frightened. "Your actions today have caused the senior partners to move their timetable for invading this plane of existence by, oh several centuries." Xander glanced towards Gunn. "He ready?"

"Yeah," Faith replied.

"Let’s move." Without waiting to see if they followed, Xander and the others hurried away. After a glance and a shrug at Spike they followed, Illyria in tow.

"And you know this how?" he demanded.

"I’d be more interested in how they knew to be here," his grand-childe commented.

"Yeah, but one thing at a time," Angel nodded as they ran, one eye fixed on Gunn. His friend’s heartbeat was weak, they didn’t have much time. "Well, Xander?"

"You bloodied the Senior Partners’ noses today. Yay, team," the youth added sarcastically. "Only problem with that is, they’ll have to strike back." The youth spun around and looked behind them. Angel glanced over his shoulder, by now the remains of the demonic army had climbed out of the masonry and were resolutely advancing. "Um, persistent," Xander smiled suddenly before pressing a button on the remote in his right hand. "Bye."

Angel ducked as the Hyperion itself exploded, masonry showering the army, their screams lost in the roaring explosion and rumble of falling stone. "How-."

"Took a three month’s refresher course with Riley’s unit, explosives, tactics, that sort of thing," Xander explained before starting off on his run again.

Angel and Spike simultaneously rolled their eyes at the mention of ‘Captain Cardboard’. "We figured the Senior Partners would attack us, Whelp," Spike commented. "That’s why we were here you prat."

"Not you, Billy Idol," Xander shot Spike a contemptuous look. "The world. This dimension. If they don’t strike back and hard, the other demonic powers might think they’re weak and ripe for the pickings. You boxed them into a corner, forced them to move up The Apocalypse several centuries. Well done."

"Oh crap," Angel muttered before raising his voice. "How did you know we were here?"

"Remember," he turned his head to Faith, the beautiful brunette running effortlessly beside Gunn’s stretcher, "a demon, kinda looked a lot like a horny Kermit the frog?"

"Lorne!" Angel gasped.

"Yep," Faith nodded. "Imagine my surprise when I get this phone call off my own Florence Nightingale, telling me how you’ve taken over Hell Inc. He was wicked scared, wondered what the hell was going on with you, so he kept the Council informed. When we learnt this was going down, G sent us to pull your ass out of the fire."

"He betrayed me!"

"Hey," Faith’s glare had enough intensity that Angel had to briefly check he wasn’t on fire. "Way Lorne looked at it, you’d betrayed him, signing them all up for W&H without their say-so, he was worried about ya. And if he hadn’t informed us, you’d be deader than George Michael’s career, right about now." There was a pause, and then the Slayer continued. "In his last call he said he’d done what you asked, about Linds."

"Good," Angel nodded brusquely. In his way Lindsey was more evil, more vile, than Angelus, Spike, or any vampire he’d met. Vampires were solely demons with no control over their actions, he assumed Harmony was the result of mental retardation, while Lindsey was a human who’d actually chosen to work for evil. Unlike Lillah who appeared to have literally no conscience, or Faith who’d realised what she was doing was wrong and had turned from it, Lindsey had turned away from the path on several occasions but the lure of power, easy living, and money had always drawn him back. It was amazing what 30 pieces of silver could do for the lawyer’s conscience. With him and the others dead, and with Lindsey’s knowledge of Wolfram & Hart, there would have been no-one to stop the lawyer from taking the firm over, and he’d not been ready to allow that.

"You sure ya did the right thing?" Faith queried.

"What’s this Poofter?"

Angel grimaced at Spike’s query. "I had Lorne shoot Lindsey."

Spike’s head spun around to face him. "The hell you say!"

"Killing a treacherous, untrustworthy worm," Illyria nodded. "Very wise."

"You didn’t know him the way I did," Angel kept his tone calm in the face of his grand-childe’s anger. "Lindsey wouldn’t reform, he’s rotten to the core. He signed up with Wolfram & Hart knowing they were demonic, anyone who can read legalese would have seen that in their employment contracts. Then I gave him a chance to get out, instead he went for a promotion. Then he left town, he came back and tried to put us two against one another while plotting to take over W&H." Angel shook his head. "He had too much knowledge, too much skill, and was too morally weak to be left alive."

"What about me, Angel?"

Angel winced at the vulnerability in Faith’s voice. "You got a chance to reform, you took it. Lindsey was a grown, educated man when he knowingly signed that contract with W&H. You were a scared high school dropout when you went to work for the Mayor. He got chances to leave but kept on coming back, doing more evil. You changed, he never would."

"He’s right, honey."

Angel glanced towards Xander, noting the affection in the young man’s voice. Faith and Xander? Noting Spike shooting him a knowing glance, he nodded before speaking. "What are we going to do now?"

Xander laughed as he turned a corner. "Get on that."

Angel stared in disbelief at the monster stood before them, the roar coming from it painful for one with his sensitive hearing. Finally he managed to speak. "A…a plane."

"Gee," Xander smirked. "Faith was right after all. That dumb as a post act is just that, an act." As usual his glare bounced off the youth. "This isn’t just a plane, it’s the Antonov AN-225, the world’s largest transport plane. And with a capacity of over 250 tons it’s even big enough to carry Spike’s ego."

"Hey dad." Angel’s undead heart leapt at his son’s voice behind him. Spinning around, he spun around to see Connor stood beside his parents. "That’s really big."

"Yeah," Angel stared at his son, uncomfortable at the protective look on the face of the man stood beside his boy. "Glad you’re all here and alright." Tearing his eyes away from the teen, he looked towards Xander. "When are we leaving?"

"More to the point," Spike spoke up, "where the hell are we going?"

Xander smiled laconically. "The head of the Council requests your presence."

"Does he now?" Angel spoke up, his tone resonating with bitterness. "Where was he when Fred needed him? He wasn’t too interested in us then?"

Eye suddenly hardening, Xander stepped towards him but Faith appeared from nowhere blocking his path. "Cool your jets, hon," the Slayer advised before glancing at him. "Truth was, we weren’t sure if ya could be trusted, if it was just a trap to corrupt Red. I went into bat for ya, but G wouldn’t listen. I got some wicked heat from Lorne over Fred. But Red couldn’t have come anyhow, she was off dimension, going through Dana’s consciousness, sorting her out."

Angel exchanged a stunned look with Spike. "She can do that?"

"Took her three weeks," Xander smirked proudly, "and she was wiped out when she got back, but Dana’s sane now." The boy scowled. "Unfortunately she’s stuck in the mind of a ten year old, like she was before it all went bad."

"And guilty as hell, but I’m helping her with that," Faith smiled wickedly at Spike. "She can’t wait to see ya."

"Oh bollocks," muttered his grand-childe suddenly a great deal paler than he’d been just a few seconds ago.

"Hey, Conn!" Faith called out. "Good to see ya again. Ya behave yourself don’t wanna have to whup you again." The raven-haired Bostonian winked. "Well unless ya like it like that."

"Connor!" Angel hid a smile at the shock in Connor’s mother’s voice. "What is that young lady talking about? How do you know her?"

"It’s um, complicated," his son stuttered. "Maybe we should get on board."

"She’s a lot older than you. I hope you -."

Angel chuckled as Connor hurried towards the plane, his parents following behind, his mother badgering Connor, and his dad shooting disbelieving looks at a waving Faith. "That was evil," he reproved.

Faith winked before bumping him with her hip. "I’m reformed not a saint. And for the record not that much older. Ya wanna get on board?"

After a glance at Gunn, Angel swallowed the bitterness he felt over Fred down deep. He’d lost her, but maybe with the Council’s help he could save his other, last remaining, friend. "He needs medical attention, a hospital now."

"This plane isn’t exactly standard issue," Xander replied over the roar of the plane’s engines. "We’ve made some adaptations including a six-bed field hospital. The Council these days like these to be prepared for every eventuality."

Angel raised an eyebrow. When would the surprises end? "Let’s go."

"What is this sorcery?" demanded Illyria.

"It’s a vessel we use to travel from place to place, pet," Spike explained.

"Interesting," mused the blue-haired goddess. "You maggots are indeed ingenious."

"There’s a compliment in there somewhere," Angel muttered.

They hurried up into the plane. Angel raised an eyebrow as he saw the set-up. The majority of the plane was taken up with seats for up to a hundred and fifty people set in booths while as he watched Gunn was hurried to the back of the plane where a makeshift hospital waited. In addition there were toilets, a gallery, and what looked to be a complicated array of communications equipment including fax machines and a computer. "This is the dogs bollocks, mate," Spike commented before dropping into a seat and putting his feet up on the table opposite. After a second, Illyria sat down beside his grand-childe, Faith and another Slayer sat opposite.

Shaking his head, Angel looked for an empty seat. And grimaced when he saw where the nearest one was. "Just great."

* * *

"The eye?"

Xander started at the sound of the vampire beside him. It was hard to hear Angel approaching at the best of times, but when you were consumed with thoughts, it was almost impossible. "What about it?"

His cold tone failed to ward off the vampire, but then he hadn’t really expected it to. "I said, what happened to the eye?" Xander closed his remaining eyes the memory of Caleb’s thumb boring into it assailing him. "Xander," he started at a hand on his shoulder only to relax when he remembered where exactly he was. "Are you alright?"

He shook his head, clearing it. "I’m fine, just memories," he whispered, his voice growing stronger, he continued. "Last year in Sunnydale, Buffy led us into this vineyard." He shook his head. "A part of me sensed it was a trap, that soldier possession thing I guess, but dumb loyalty made me follow her. Kennedy, Will’s girl-friend, was grabbed by this psycho priest that had just kicked Buff, Faith, and Billy’s collective asses."

"Caleb."

"Yeah," Xander blinked, surprised that the demon knew the priest’s name. "Caleb. So me, the guy who was dropped on his head at birth, dived in and pushed Kennedy away. He grabbed me, pronounced ‘I was the one who sees’ and poked my eye out."

"Must have hurt," Angel commented. Too caught up in the memory to speak, Xander nodded. If anything hurt was a massive understatement. "But I’m guessing you don’t regret it, because you saved someone’s life. All of us have scars, Xander, what’s important is how you got it. It’s a wound to be proud of."

Xander glanced at the vampire. "I.. I hadn’t thought of it like that."

"You should," Angel suggested. There was a moment of silence, then the demon spoke again. "I thought Faith was dating," there was a pause as the Irish vampire struggled for a name, "Wood."

Xander groaned inwardly. Here came the interrogation. "She was, but it didn’t work out, he’s too uptight, too school-masterly, think a black Giles without the edge."

"Ah," the vampire nodded in understanding. "And you and her?"

Direct, much? "You heard about me and Anya?"

Angel’s eyes flickered with wry amusement. "Yes, and jilting the Vengeance demon for scorned women was probably your dumbest move ever. And given your history that’s quite an achievement."

"I know," Xander conceded with a wry grin before sobering. "After she died in the last battle against the First, I fell apart. I worked hard, ran the Cleveland branch of the Council-."

"I thought you were in Africa?"

"Andrew?" Angel nodded. "Yeah," Xander continued, "Giles tells Andrew what we want the world to think. Giles knows he can’t keep his mouth shut. When he came over to retrieve Dana, he wasn’t in charge, two of the Slayers there had secret authority from Giles to take over if he screwed up. Anyway," Xander paused, "I fell apart after Anya’s death, couldn’t connect with people, the Slayers weren’t people to me, I couldn’t afford to get close any more, I was sorta operating on auto-pilot."

"I can relate," Angel commented.

Xander nodded. "Then eight months ago, Faith turned up. Giles had heard what was happening with me, couldn’t come himself, and neither could Will, but Faith had just broken up with Wood, and needed time away from him. So she asked to be sent to help. She put me back together again, said she wouldn’t let me shove her out, she’d made that mistake when I’d tried to help her after Finch. She took over running the branch, looking after me, everything. And somewhere along the line, we fell for one another. I found out despite the whole her being a goddess thing, and me just being a goof, we’ve got a lot in common, we click."

Angel stared at him. "I don’t need to give you the speech do I?"

Xander shuddered. "Oh god, no. It always sounds so -."

"Forced?" Angel finished.

"Exactly."

* * *

"Droopy leads the Council’s US. Branch?" Spike laughed. "You sods are royally buggered and no mistake. God, if I knew-." Suddenly he was airborne, crashing into the bunker head and sliding down to the ground. "What the bloody hell," he growled as he climbed to his feet.

The moment he was upright, Faith was there, one hand grabbing him around his collar, slamming him back into the bunkhead, the other levelling a stake at his heart.

"For the record, X ain’t droopy," the Slayer glared at him, eyes like ice. "Never has been. And I hear you disrespecting the man I love again, I’ll stake your miserable ass just for the practice. We on the same page?"

"We’re on the same page," he confirmed, his eyes wary.

"Good," Faith released her grip and stepped back, but not out of his path. "For the record, I’m not some gullible valley girl who gets wet at the sight of a set of abs. You ever try anything with me, my girls, or hurt a single person I care about, and I’ll have a hundred Slayers who’ve never screwed ya hunting ya miserable ass down." The Slayer turned away and headed back to her seat.

After a second, he followed suit. "Where the bloody hell were you?" he muttered as he sat down back beside Illyria.

The goddess smiled at him. "The Slayer has power, it is always good to assess a potential adversary. And it is good a warrior stands up for their mate, shows strength. It is the sort of thing Wesley would have done for the shell."

"Well thanks for the bloody help!" Spike spat.

* * *

A Hell Dimension

Lucifer entered the boardroom, instantly his minions rose. They were all there, the leaders of his Bleak Legions, Dracos Dulli, the Dread-Lord, Karla, the Cruel Conquerer, Archduke Averill, Battle-Champion of five dimensions, Caedron the Crafty, Gedeon the Destroyer of Worlds, and Kolya, Tormenter of Empires. Lucifer nodded, his leaders immediately sat. "I’ll keep this short, the Circle of Black Thorn has been destroyed." He stopped the shocked babble that followed his words with a glare. "Such an insult cannot be allowed to stand. Ready our forces."

The moment the plane touched tarmac, Angel was up and moving towards the medical station. Xander rose and followed the Irish vampire, exchanging a look with his girl-friend as he passed her. A second later and she was striding beside him. "What was that with Spike?" he queried. "Not that I’m complaining, any time you want to throw Billy into a wall feel free."

The beautiful Bostonian shrugged. "He insulted my man, had to put him straight, teach him some respect for his betters."

"Insulted your man hey?" Xander grinned. "And you stood up for my honour. I’ll have to reward you tonight."

Faith winked. "Count on it, stud. I’ve got a few ideas what ya can do."

"Please stop," Angel shot them a pained glance. "I’m not entirely sure if a vampire can throw up, but if you two don’t shut up, we’re all going to find out."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "What do you want me to do exactly, Faith?"

Faith’s rosebud lips parted in a mocking smirk. "I like it when you kneel down before me, pull my panties down, kiss your way up my -," Faith’s words turned to strangled laughter at Angel’s shudder. "Choice!"

The mood took a downturn as they reached the medical station. "How is he, doctor?"

The doctor paled at Angel’s harsh tone before replying. "He’s stabilised at the moment, but unless we get him to The Council in the next three hours, he’ll die."

"The Council?" Angel queried. "He needs a hosp-."

"Think W&H’s medical facilities without the demonic influence," Xander soothed. Looking around, he noticed the others were already departing the plane. "Faith," he turned to his girl-friend, "you go with our guests-."

"I want to go with Gunn," Xander glanced at the vampire. Seeing the Irish demon’s stubborn expression and not having the heart to argue, he nodded. "Okay," looking around, he saw two Slayers, "Vi! Rona! I need you!" he turned to Angel. "They’re going with you, no argument. Faith, we’ll take the others, and ten Slayers as guards." They still didn’t know just how strong Illyria was, and there was no way Xander was taking any chances. "I’ll just be a minute, I’ll phone G-Man and tell him we’re on the way."

* * *

"Rupert," Giles looked up to see Wesley’s father stood in the doorway of his office, a grave look on his face, "young Xander is on the line."

Giles nodded at his second-in-command’s announcement. "Thank you, Roger." The man nodded before walking out. Giles shook his head as he reached for the phone. Him, the head of the Council, he chuckled to himself, he somehow doubted when his father had dragged him into the Council halls some three decades ago he’d expected his blasted brat of a son to be running the damn place!

Although maybe he had, his father had always thought rather more of him than he had himself. He supposed it was the same with all good parents.

Of course, his own children continually surprised him with their resourcefulness and sheer heart, so perhaps not. Putting aside the vagaries of fatherhood, he grabbed the phone and answered it. "Xander?"

"Hi," the founding Scooby replied, "we’ve just got everyone off the plane at the RAF airport, thanks for the clearance by the way. We should be with you in an hour."

"Excellent," he paused for a second, "how did Angel," his lips curled up into an instinctive sneer, "take the news of our mole in his camp?"

Xander chuckled. "Had a temper tantrum."

"Ah, to be expected," Giles smirked. "You managed to retrieve young Connor and his family too?"

"Yeah, but," Xander paused, "Wes died taking out Viall."

"Oh bugger," Giles breathed. It had been his intention to offer Pryce a position as the head of one of the Council’s satellite stations, perhaps Cairo as Zabuto was approaching retirement age and had only stayed on the condition that a replacement be found as soon as possible. A potentially valuable resource lost.

The man in him rebelled at his clinical reaction to the death of a man he had known, but the general in him couldn’t afford such emotion. Taking a breath, he continued. "But the others?"

"Deadboy, Billy, and Illyria are all uninjured, the guy they call Gunn is in a bad way, but he’ll be okay."

"Excellent, you did well Xander."

"Thanks."

"Roger," he sighed as he hung up. He’d forgotten about Wesley’s father, the relationship between son and father was strained at best, but he deserved to know. "And it looks like I’ll be the one telling him," he muttered.

He’d been surprised by just how close he’d grown to Roger since his return to England. The older Englishman had been the most senior remaining Council member, the only member of The Ruling Board to survive in fact, and as such Giles had expected to fight him tooth and nail for the Council. But instead the man had stepped aside and even supported his own claim for the Council leadership.

While Whyndham-Pryce was undoubtedly a cold fish, unlike Travers the man wasn’t concerned with furthering his own schemes but rather the protection of mankind. Unlike the former Council head, he wasn’t obsessed with his own power base, he truly believed in the Council’s aims, and while they argued frequently in private about the changes Giles planned, Roger always loyally, supported him in public.

And what changes he’d had to make. First he’d had Willow hack through a dozen electronic safeguards to get to the Council accounts to get to the money that Travers had squirreled away in banks in the Bahamas, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein. Once he’d gotten the money, the easy part was over.

He’d set half the remaining Watchers, the older ones, to recruiting and training newer Watchers, ignoring their complaints about him discarding the old traditions of only allowing upper-class, college-educated Watchers. The younger half of the Watchers he’d set to work tracking down the Slayers, aided by Willow’s connection. Still, tracking over 600 Slayers down had taken some time, he’d been fortunate that Willow’s spell somehow compelled many of them to seek the Council out.

And once the Slayers had been located, the difficult work had really begun. First order of business had been the banishing of the Cruicatmen, a test of the worthiness of the Slayer, Giles snorted in disgust, they’d been chosen by the powers that be how much more worthy could they be? Disapproval of that move had been muted, but the uproar when he’d declared his attention to pay Slayers a salary on par with field watchers. He chuckled as he remembered the outrage.

His amusement quickly faded. "Slavery is no joke," he shook his head. That was the old system had been, little more than slavery.

But he intended to change that. Now the Slayers were assigned to one of six regional field offices throughout the world, within which each of the world’s major cities got a team of three Slayers, one Watcher, and a healer\mage. In addition, the Council had a dozen special ops teams, properly equipped and trained teams chosen from the world’s special operations units, not the misfits the previous regime had employed, ready to fly in and back-up a Slayer team at a moment’s notice. A number of alliances had also been struck with the world’s most powerful white magic covens and friendly demon clans, as well as diplomatic ties strengthened with many of the world’s governments. Now the Council was working for the Slayers, and not the other way around.

Even saving the world hadn’t been as hard as reforming the council and although he felt a great deal of pride at his achievements, he sometimes felt utterly and completely tired. Opening the door, he stepped out. "Mr. Giles!"

He smiled at the pretty young woman waiting outside his office. "Hello, Dana." Since her return to lucidity, the previously insane Slayer had for some reason latched onto him, serving as his bodyguard with an unflinching loyalty. He’d been loath to discourage her attention for fear that rejection might send her spiralling out of control once again, but at times it could be wearying. "I’m just off to see Mr. Whyndham-Pryce."

The girl dropped in beside him with a nod. "Is Faith coming back soon?"

"She’ll be in an hour or so," Giles smiled at the young woman’s pleased expression. Dana idolised both him and Willow, but while their idolisation was marred by the generation gap in their case and considerable awe in the case of Willow, Faith had connected with Dana on a level none of the rest of them had managed. The only problem, he chuckled inwardly as the girl began to skip, was how giddy Dana got whenever Faith visited.

Finally they stopped outside Roger’s office. "Thank you, Dana," he pursed his lips, noting the girl’s paleness. Oh bloody hell, not again, they’d talked about this before. "Have you eaten today?" The young Slayer shrugged. "Dana?"

"Gotta look after you for Faith and Miss. Rosenberg," the girl muttered.

Giles rolled his eyes. He was in a building filled with something like thirty Slayers, and base to over a hundred Special ops troops; he suspected he was reasonably safe. "I appreciate your loyalty," he carefully replied, not wanting to hurt the young girl’s feelings. "But I am more than capable of looking after myself, and Mr. Whyndham-Pryce is hardly going to attack me."

"He’s a good man, gives me money to run errands for him."

Giles raised an eyebrow, he hadn’t known that. An unexpected, softer side to the older man. "And if Faith comes home and finds you not looking your best, I’ll be in for the high jump, and neither of us want that, now do we?"

Dana shook her head. "No, Mr. Giles."

"Good," he smiled at the girl’s reply. "Now," the girl’s eyes widened when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled fiver, "that’s settled. You go and feast on some of those sugary treats you like so much."

The previously insane Slayer stared at the note he’d shoved into her hand. "I’ve got my own money."

"I know dear," the Watcher nodded, "call it a bonus for a job well done."

"Thanks Mr. Giles!"

The girl stepped towards him to hug him, but he quickly stepped back. "No, Dana," he tousled the girl’s hair, "cracked ribs last time remember?"

The girl looked briefly disappointed, then smiled and lunged towards him, placing a kiss on his cheek before charging off. Giles shook his head and chuckled. "That bloody girl," he muttered. He knew he spoiled her unmercifully, but in doing so, he somehow assuaged his guilt about what had happened to another very troubled girl who’d been under his care. He’d failed Faith, but he wouldn’t fail Dana. And now, he turned towards the whitewashed door with a sigh, for Roger Whyndham-Pryce. Taking a breath, he knocked on the door. "Roger, it’s me."

"Rupert?" the older man sounded surprised. "Please, come in."

"Thank you," opening the door he walked into the older Watcher’s lavishly furnished office, complete with the man’s perhaps priceless collection of two bookcases of first editions.

Giles quickly appraised the short but powerfully built man sat behind the desk. Despite the man’s age and immaculate Saville Road suit, there was something of the pit-bull about him, an amazing energy for a man of his years. He selfishly hoped his news wouldn’t destroy that vigour. He needed the man too much for that. "Our guests will be here within the hour," he licked his lips, "unfortunately there’s bad news. Wesley died taking out Cyrus Viall."

"Ah," the recently bereaved father stared into space for a second. "Viall, a most powerful sorcerer. Most commendable." The bearded man glanced down at his cluttered desk. "I should have your reports ready for you in about thirty minutes, good enough?" Giles nodded dazedly, unable to believe the man’s reaction. The man glanced up at him. "My boy’s," the man paused, the slightest flicker of emotion in his eyes and a little hoarseness in his voice, "Slayer will be here with the others, correct?"

"That’s right," Giles confirmed, bemused as to where this bewildering conversation was heading.

"Could you send her to me?" Roger queried.

Giles stared at the older man, confused by the request but unwilling to deny him. "As you wish."

"Thank you," his fellow Englishman’s smile was strained. "Now, these reports aren’t going to finish themselves?"

* * *

Whyndham-Pryce stared down at the reports spread across his desk, accounts of the major demonic clans suddenly unimportant next to what he’d just learnt. His son, dead.

He and Wesley had never been close. In fact, if anything that had been the understatement. But he had loved his son, his mistake had been in the way he’d loved him. He’d thought by being hard on the boy, relentlessly pushing him, he’d become the best he could be, a son to be proud of. But Wesley had been a terrible disappointment to him.

And then, years later, he’d seen how Rupert was with the quite remarkable youngsters he’d unofficially adopted, encouraging, patient, and above all loving. Realisation of the mistake he’d made had hit him like a train, but typical of him he’d been able to apologise to his son. But with his return, he’d planned to, he really had.

Suddenly stiff-upper lip seemed the stupidest expression in the world.

* * *

Faith shook her head as she climbed out of the van that had carried her and her companions to the Council grounds, an 18^th century six storey mansion with over 80 rooms, several out-buildings, and over 100 acres of land, all for a cool forty million pounds. The place was fucking A.

"Faith!" Faith was rocked when a lithe figure crashed into her, squeezing her tight. "I missed you!"

"Right back at you, kid," Faith ruffled the troubled Slayer’s hair. "Ya been good for Mr. Giles?" Dana nodded.

"Hi, Dana," Xander greeted as he climbed out of their convoy’s lead vehicle. "You feeling well?"

Dana looked away, and towards Faith’s boyfriend. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Harris," Dana replied shyly, a slight blush on her cheeks.

Faith hid a scowl. She’d been kidding her honey that Dana had a crush, and that blush just about confirmed it. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic, the grown woman stuck in a ten year old’s mind, dealing with emotions and feelings she couldn’t even come close to understanding. Life fucking sucked some times, although like her, Dana was probably better off now than she would have been if she’d never been Called in the first place. Dana glanced around, eyes hardening. "Spike."

"Yeah," Faith stepped away from her friend. "Haven’t you got something to say to him?"

"How do you pick your nose without hands?" Dana asked.

"You, you, you," the demon glared at her, threw his hands up, and stormed towards the building. Faith dissolved into floods of tears of laughter. Call her man ‘droopy’? No one dissed her X and got away with it.

"That went well didn’t it?" Dana beamed.

Faith tousled her friend’s hair. "You rocked."

"I suppose you think that was funny?" Faith groaned, busted. She turned to face a disapproving Giles, her mouth opening to explain it had been her idea, and that Dana had only followed her. "I found it rather amusing myself," Faith stared at the Council Head’s smirk. The man sobered. "Mr. Whyndham-Pryce would like to see you."

"See me," Faith stared at the head Watcher, "but why?"

"I have no idea, but he has just lost his son, try not to be so," Giles raised an eyebrow,

"Faithlike?"

"Sur-, hey!"

* * *

Roger Whyndham-Pryce looked up at the knock on the door. "Who is it?"

"Uh, Faith."

"Ah," Roger swallowed. Although the young woman in question had occasionally come here, their paths had never actually passed, he’d always been away on business when she’d visited. Truth be told, he always made sure he was away when he knew she was coming. He was sure the two of them meeting would be more than a little uncomfortable for both of them. But now it was unavoidable. "Please, come in."

"Thanks." The door swung open. He raised an eyebrow at the beautiful young woman who entered. Raven locks cascaded down her shoulders, her chocolate brown eyes were smoky, inviting, and rosebud lips begged to be kissed. The young woman was clad in skin-tight leather pants that creaked with every movement and a red gym shirt underneath a denim jacket that did little to hide her perfectly proportioned curves. The Slayer stalked over to the other side of his desk with a grace which was unusual even for one of her Calling and looked at the chair. "Can I?"

"Of course," he motioned to the seat.

"Thanks."

A strained moment followed the Slayer sitting down. Roger stared at the young beauty before shaking his head. "No wonder my son was intimidated by you."

The girl’s eyes briefly filled with pain but when she spoke, her tone was nonchalance personified. "You get that when you torture someone half to death."

"No, no, no," he shook his head. "You misunderstand me. My son had a sheltered upbringing. Boy’s schools and all that. While he was thirty when he came to Sunnydale, he had little experience of the fairer sex, finding a gorgeous young woman such as yourself as his charge must have been terrifying."

The young lady’s full lips quirked up in a half-smile. "You making a pass at me, Rog? Only you’re a little too…"

"Old?" he suggested, the tightness in his chest he’d been experiencing since Giles had given him the terrible news loosening a tad at the woman’s easy manner. Yes, very personable, far more dangerous than he’d imagined

The Slayer tilted her head to one side. "I was gonna say British."

"Ah yes," he nodded in understanding, "I’ve frequently had that effect on women, even British ones."

"I just bet," Faith’s half-grin disappeared. "Sorry about Wes, he was a good guy."

"Thank you, dear," Roger nodded. "He thought a lot about and of you." The Slayer’s mouth momentarily dropped. "He frequently wrote me letters about his career in LA., and often made mention of you. He was wracked with guilt about what happened with you." He paused before making an admission of guilt. "As am I."

"I don’t understand?"

He sighed. "I made many mistakes bringing up my son, I believed true strength came in strictness and discipline, not understanding and compassion. The way my son attempted to mentor you in Sunnydale was based on the only example he had, mine. I was a terrible parent-."

"You ever kick him down the stairs ‘cause the guy at the shop knew he was underage and wouldn’t let him buy your booze? ‘Cause if you didn’t, he was way up on me."

Roger’s jaw tightened at the young woman’s casual, matter-of-fact description of the abuse she’d suffered. "No, but perhaps if I’d have been a better father, he could have been a better Watcher."

The beautiful young woman stared at him for a long second. "Yeah well," the Bostonian shrugged, her expression uncomfortable. "I guess maybe if I hadn’t gone through all the bad stuff I wouldn’t have broken down, and come through it with a better perspective. I was self-destructing one way or another how ever things went. And we reached an understanding before he…." Again the Slayer’s voice trailed off.

"I know, dear," Roger smiled, "his later letters mentioned it, it was a great source of comfort to him."

"It was?" the formerly rogue Slayer looked briefly surprised. "If I could have any man to be my Watcher, Wes would be my second choice after my Xan. Cat could handle himself."

"Thank you, dear. That means a great deal." Roger smiled before turning serious. "Now, although you and my son reached amends, my son and I failed to. And now, with him dead, I never will," seeing the girl’s mouth open, he waved her to silence, "hush girl. Which aside from the emotional baggage such a loss entails, leaves me with a problem. My wife and I aren’t young, both of us, well we won’t seeing seventy again."

"I’m bettin’ Mrs. W won’t thank you for spreading that fact around."

Roger chuckled at the girl’s wry reply. "Indeed not. Most indiscreet of me. We’ll have to keep it our little secret." His smile slipped. "Wesley, well Wesley was our only child, and as a consequence I have no one left to leave the family fortune to upon my death. I’d be most appreciative if you’d allow me you to will everything to you as a sort of apology -."

"You’ve gotta be shi-," the young woman coughed, "kiddin’ me!"

"Not at all, my sense of humour was removed at a young age," Roger continued. "Ask anybody. Much of what you went through was at least indirectly due to my terrible parenting. I can’t ever apologise to Wesley now for the damage I caused him, but I can at least in some small way make amends to you."

"I…I," the girl shook her head. "I’ve got everything I need, my guy, a home, a purpose. Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but me and Wes are square, I don’t need-."

"Please," he pleaded. "I do."

"K," the girl shrugged, her expression uncomfortable. "I’ll do ya a deal, half for me, half for Dana," the Slayer paused, "ya know her, right?"

"Indeed I do," Roger smiled, "she’s a sweet child."

"Yeah, Dana’s great," the brunette looked down at the ground for a second before raising her eyes. "Me and her are a lot alike, neither of us got a great start, she needs looking after, if you could put half your money in a trust fund for her or something."

"A splendid idea," he nodded approvingly at the young woman’s generosity. "I’ll get onto my lawyers and accountants on Monday, liquidate some of my assets, sell some properties, and set the trust fund up immediately. What’s left over when my wife and I pass on will be yours, agreed?"

"Yeah, thanks." The bemused-looking woman rose. "We gonna go to this meeting?"

"I’d be honoured if you’d give me the pleasure of escorting you."

"Ya think people will talk?" Faith grinned.

Roger smiled at the young woman. "Oh, I do so."

"You’re just lucky I ain’t got no honour, otherwise X would fight you for it."

"From what I’ve seen and my son wrote you have plenty of that quality." His gallantry was rewarded with a slight reddening of the young woman’s cheeks

* * *

"Giles."

He looked up to see the vampire standing in his office doorway. Instantly his hackles rose at the sight of Jenny’s murderer. "Angel," he greeted before turning to Dana sat opposite him. He was surprised that the previously laughing girl who’d been excitedly telling him about Faith’s return was now sat glaring at the demon. "Could you leave please, Dana. Angel and I-."

"I’m not going," the Slayer declared, eyes boring through the vampire. "He doesn’t like you. I don’t trust him."

"Very well," he raised an eyebrow. He could order Dana to leave, but that would only hurt the young woman’s feelings, and giving the choice between causing her discomfort and Angel, he’d chose Angel’s anguish every time. "It appears we’ll be having company, Angel."

The demon’s eyes flickered towards Dana but showed no other sign of distress. "Dana, you’re looking well." The vampire’s gaze returned to him. "Thank you for your help today, but a little earlier would have been nice."

"I didn’t help you, I took an opportunity to assist in the elimination of a number of powerful demons, and retrieve a number of potential allies," Giles corrected. "Please note, potential."

Angel’s eyes narrowed. "I didn’t appreciate the way you came in and stole Dana," the vampire glanced at the Slayer, "from us."

"I wasn’t about to leave an innocent in the hands of your organisation to be corrupted," Giles replied. "The Council looks after its own."

"It’s not always been that way with the Council," Angel responded.

"It is now," Giles replied, eyes not shifting from the demon.

"Why didn’t you send Willow when I phoned for her!"

"Dana was our priority, not some girl I’d never met," Giles retorted. "And we were far from certain it wasn’t a trap, a plan to ensnare Willow. I might have been wrong, but," he smiled at Dana, "I don’t regret the choice I made."

"How could you use my friend to spy on me!" the vampire started forward only to blocked off by a scowling Dana, the Slayer moving at a blur to confront the demon.

"Perhaps," Giles continued, "we should continue this at the conference." Angel stared with confusion at him. "After all, I’m sure you’re eager to hear just what result your actions have had."

"Oh yeah," muttered the demon, "can’t wait."

"Sorry I’m late."

Giles looked up as the late arrival hurried into the vast briefing room. "Ah, Riley!"

"Captain Cardboard, bloody marvellous."

Giles groaned at the malicious looks between Riley and the two ensoulled vampires. "Riley has been seconded from the US. Government to head our Special Forces unit."

"We’re all doomed," Angel commented.

Shaking his head, Giles turned his attention to the monitor before him. "Willow?" Giles spoke into his computer’s microphone. "Is everything set up at your end?"

"Coming on line, now." He smiled as the face of the red-haired Wicca appeared on her computer screen. "Rio here, boss!"

"Oh please," he heard Faith’s amused mutter, "brown-noser."

"Watch it you," Willow warned, "or I’ll turn you into something really mean!"

Faith snorted. "I’m wicked sure it won’t be a frog."

"Please, girls," he interrupted, "let’s pretend this isn’t a sorority."

"Sororities aren’t any fun, now fraternities on the other hand," Faith leered.

"What does she mean Mr. Giles?"

Cheeks burning, Giles chose to ignore both Faith’s comment and Dana’s query in favour of continuing with the meeting. "Brisbane?"

Robson’s face flickered onto one of the flat-screen monitors set in the middle of the long conference room table. "Here, Mr. Giles."

Giles nodded. "Cairo?"

"Here," Zabuto and a lantern-jawed man appeared on another screen.

"Groo! But how!"

"Greetings, Angel," Groo nodded. "I have been working with the Council for a while now, slewing demons and training Slayers. It is indeed a worthy calling."

"Okay," Angel shrugged. "I just give up."

"Munich?"

"Here," Wood’s face flickered on-line. "Faith. Spike."

"Right there, wanker," replied Spike.

Giles sighed. His life was like a soddin’ soap opera, he silently bemoaned. "Including Xander Harris," he nodded to the young man he considered his son, "all the Council heads are here, as is the Senior Slayer, Faith Le-."

"Senior Slayer," Spike snorted. "This is bollocks. Where is Buffy?"

Giles groaned. Xander hadn’t told them? The blithering pillock.

* * *

London, 5 months ago.

"Giles!"

Giles looked up with a smile at the familiar voice. It had been so long. Standing, he walked over to the young woman stood there and took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. "Buffy!" Pulling away, he looked at the tall, elegantly-dressed man with her. "And who might you be?"

"Oh Giles," Buffy beamed, "this is my boyfriend from Rome, Dante Viva."

Dante Viva, Giles’ heart tightened as he recognised the name. "Not again," he breathed, staring with disbelief at the Slayer. Would she ever learn? Shaking his head, he stuttered. "This man, don’t you know-."

"I know," Buffy’s eyes had hardened, "he’s the man I want as my Watcher."

"Impossible," Giles shook his head. "This man is one of the most notorious scoundrels of the past six centuries!"

"But Mr. Giles, I am reformed," the black arts mage’s smirk didn’t reach into his eyes.

"No," he shook his head. "Absolutely not."

Buffy pouted. "Either you let him become my Watcher or I resign from the Council!"

"Threatening me is distinctly unwise," Giles warned. "I’ve more to think about than just you. Did you learn nothing from Angelus and Spike?" he shook his head. "Don’t bother with a letter, I’ll consider this meeting your resignation." Buffy gaped at him. "Girls!" he shouted into the corridor. In a moment, four Slayers were in the corridor. "Please escort Miss. Summers and her companion," he shot the Immortal a disdainful look, "from the building."

"Giles-," Buffy pleaded.

He hoped his expression gave no hint of his inner turmoil. "I have an entire Council of impressionable Slayers to think about. If you won’t learn from past mistakes and continue to persist in these unwise liaisons, then I’m sorry, I’d rather you weren’t involved in the Council."

* * *

"You bloody ninny!"

"Watch yourself Billy," Faith’s voice was low, controlled, "there’s ten of my best girls in this room, and over a hundred Slayers in this building. Give me a reason, I’m begging ya."

"Giles, don’t you think-."

"What Angel?" He shot the demon a glare. "That I should have indulged her liaison the way I did with both you and Spike? Look how well those relationships ended. We’re not here to discuss Buffy, she’s made her decisions, she’ll have to live with them." He forced himself to concentrate on the notes before him. "With the decimation of the Senior Partners, Lucifer’s forces has been dealt a mighty blow."

"So what’s the problem with that?" Angel queried, his tone defensive.

"The problem is that although the Circle Of the Black Thorn is the no. 1. group working for Lucifer, they are far from the only one," Giles replied. "In fact there are over three dozen powerful demonic groups working either directly or indirectly for him. With his major group out of the way, he’ll have to set them to work immediately to bring about the apocalypse, otherwise one of his enemies will beat him to it."

"Why does he not just march straight in?"

That question came from Connor, but before he had chance to answer it, Illyria beat him to it. "The plane of man is not made for the truly powerful, this place," the goddess sniffed, "is full of weakness, compassion, and the like."

"Quite," Giles thought it diplomatic to agree with the resurrected Old One, "demons with the power of a Lucifer cannot exist in this dimension in his purest form, there’s too much goodness here. So he needs his remaining groups to spread enough hatred etc to change that."

"And how would they do that, ‘xactly?" Spike queried.

"By sowing dissension and smiting down those who would oppose them!"

Giles blinked at Illyria’s exclamation. "Something like that. Killing men of peace, staring wars, engineering the election of hate-mongers and radicals, and supplying arms to extremists, that sort of thing added to the usual demonic behaviour. Once this plane of existence is even more corrupt than it is now, he’ll be able to make his move, there were will be nothing holding his Bleak Legions back."

"How do we stop them, G?"

Giles smiled at Faith’s unusually earnest face. "Over the years, the Council has made extensive notes of the world’s most prominent occult groups." He glanced at the flat-screen monitors. "You’ve all been emailed the reports, use Crimson encryption key to decrypt them-."

"Told you-."

"Yes thank you, Willow," he interrupted testily, "the system has been a great help."

"And didn’t it just kill you to say so," the Wicca muttered.

He ignored the witch. "These groups are all working towards setting off the final apocalypse."

"Why not wipe ‘em out before?"

"There’s several reasons," he glanced at Spike before continuing. "First of all, with only one Slayer the Council never had the resources to hunt these groups down. Secondly, it was decided under my leadership that it was better to thwart these groups’ schemes rather than eliminate them completely, for fear that their deaths would leave a power vacuum into which something more powerful could move. Unfortunately," he glared at Angel, "your actions have eliminated that option. Now, we’re going to attack each and every of the group on this list, eliminate and destroy them, and hope whatever comes after them takes decades to gain enough power to be a threat."

"That’s your bloody plan?"

"Shut up Spike."

He nodded at Faith, thanking her for her softly delivered warning. "Illyria," the demon looked up, "I would be honoured," he was careful to keep his wording respectful, "if you’d consent to stay with us. I feel you have much to teach us about the world of demons. And your fellow comrade-at-arms, the one you call Gunn would do to have a familiar face around as he recovers."

"You speak to a goddess as one should, I will stay," Illyria nodded.

"Thank you," he nodded. "Angel, you’ll be leaving with Faith and Xander to go back to America. Connor, I understand you’ve spoken to your parents and against their objections wish to be involved?"

"It’s my world, too."

"Yes," he smiled. "Indeed it is. You’ll be shipping out with Vi and Rona. Spike," his lip curled up as he turned to the second soulled vampire, "you’ll be shipping out to meet with Willow and Kennedy."

* * *

"Xander!" he turned to face the vampire hurrying behind. "You’ve got to talk sense to Giles about Buffy."

"For the first time one of us is talking sense about Buffy." Xander shook his head to forestall the vampire’s interruption. "Yes, she’s brave, determined, and a great fighter. But she’s also incredibly selfish and bull-headed. The Immortal is one of the world’s worst dark mages, you were the world’s most notorious mass-murderer, and Spike had killed two of her fellow Slayers. But none of that mattered to Buffy, she knew what she wanted and went out there to get it. And what happened? Giles lost the woman he loved, Kendra," the vampire winced, "lost her life, and the world almost ended. And it was even worse with Spike. God knows what will happen with the Immortal-."

"But that’s my point!" the demon finally interrupted. "She needs our help!"

"Giles has a whole Council of Slayers, over 600 of them in total. Some from broken homes, some with emotional problems. Plenty of them haven’t had half the start in life Buffy had. He can’t afford to spend his time on one girl who doesn’t learn her lessons or want our help. Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Some guy famous said that."

"George Santayana," he supplied.

"Whatever," Xander shook his head. "Buffy’s not like Faith or Will, she doesn’t learn from her mistakes, she keeps repeating them again and again. And there’s got to be a point where we say no more. There’s more people to consider than just her"

"And what about Dawn, don’t you care about her?"

"We have people watching her," Xander controlled his temper with an effort. "If there’s any danger to Dawn, she’ll be lifted. She’s still under our protection, and all Buffy has to so is ask and we’ll be there for her too. But there’s no point when she’s still on her bad boy kick. It’s like having a drug addict in the family, at some point you’ve got to think of the rest of the family, you can’t sacrifice them to protect someone who doesn’t want your help."

"But-."

"You’re not listening Deadboy," Xander hissed, the vampire was on his last nerve. "I agree with Giles, I’m not interested."

* * *

"Mr. Pryce!"

The formidable looking gentleman stopped and turned, his eyes cold. "Angelus-."

He offered the man his hand, the Watcher failed to take it. "I prefer Angel." Angel guessed this wasn’t going to be easy. "I’d just like to say your son was a fine man, a great asset to my group."

"Hum," the man huffed. "And would that include when you tried to kill him?"

Angel shrugged. "Things were," he licked his lips in embarrassment, "tense."

"Of course they were, he’d just tried to save your son from a raving, homicidal mania-," the man chuckled. "Oh wait, that would be you, correct?" Shaking his head, the man walked away.

"Three in a row, that’s three conversations that have gone down the toilet. Is it my cologne?" he sniffed his sleeve but his vampire nose couldn’t pick up anything. "Someone would tell me, right?"

* * *

"I’ve gotta help you!"

"Hey, hey, hey, champ," Giles was surprised by the compassion in the formerly rouge Slayer’s face as she cupped Dana’s face in her hands. "You do help, ya look after the big cheese for us, right?"

"The big cheese?"

Giles rolled his eyes at Dana’s confusion. He’d frequently said the Bostonian Slayer should come with a Faith-English translator; it was only fair for the actual members of the human race unfortunate enough to have her foisted upon them. "Faith means me, Dana."

"Yeah, that’s right," Faith stroked Dana’s hair. "After all if that Illyria chick’s gonna be here and the bad guys might come after G, me and Red have gotta have someone we trust looking after the old geezer."

Giles raised an eyebrow at being described in such a manner. "Thank you very bloody much," he muttered.

Despite his reservations, Giles was pleased to see Dana nodding reluctantly. "Okay," she muttered.

"Good girl," Giles praised. "Now if you’d don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Faith alone."

"Okay," Dana nodded. "I’ll go and see if uncle Roger’s got any jobs for me to do." With that, the child in a young woman’s body hurried out, leaving them both gaping.

"Did she just call Rog, uncle Roger?"

"I believe she did," he replied dazedly. Shaking his head, he turned to his senior Slayer. "You’re very good with her."

Faith shrugged, obviously discomforted by his praise. "She’s a good kid, got a good heart. I just know what she needs to hear."

"I think it’s rather more than that," Giles reproved. "She adores you, the day after she rings her I hear every word of the conversation verbatim. At least twice."

Faith smirked. "Well what about you? Every second thing she has to tell me about is about the ‘wonderful’ Mr. Giles, you sound like freakin’ Mary Poppins."

Giles chuckled. "I’m rather surprised that a Boston southie knows who Mary Poppins is."

"What can I say," Faith winked. "I have a dark past."

"That I can believe," Giles replied. "And how are you and Xander?"

"Cleveland’s running fine," Faith grinned. "And that’s all you’re getting. I do either mysterious or graphic. I’m playing mysterious today."

"Thank goodness for that," Giles shuddered theatrically before turning serious. "And if I may be indiscreet how did your meeting with Uncle Roger go?"

"He tells me to call him that, and I’m back snapping necks," Faith replied. "It was weird, I figured it was gonna be all because of you my son is dead and I was disgraced. But it wasn’t." Faith looked down at the floor.

"Faith, if you’re not comfortable-."

"No," the Slayer shook her head, her expression serious, "it’s five by five. I need to talk this through with someone who knows Rog." The Slayer paused. "I was wicked scared going in there, I didn’t wanna get into a shouting match or nothing with him, Jesus his boy’s just died, but I wasn’t going to take shit from him. Instead, he apologised, said his son was a lousy Watcher to me ‘cause he’d never learnt compassion and stuff from him, that he’d acted like a dictator because that was the way Rog had been with him."

"He said that?"

"Yeah," Faith nodded. "I tried to tell him I was a basket-case long before Wes came along but he wasn’t having it. He said he’d planned to apologise to his son when he got back, but that was never gonna happen now, so he apologised to me instead. Then," the Slayer looked bemused, "he said that he didn’t have any kids left to leave his fortune to, so he asked if it would be alright to leave it all to me."

"He did what!" Giles exclaimed.

"I said no way, that I was happy with what I’d got, X, my job, my home, but he insisted, so I did a deal where I split the money half and half with Dana. He’s gonna set up a trust fund for her tomorrow." The Slayer’s doe eyes filled with a rare uncertainty. "Did I do a bad thing?"

Giles stared at the Slayer in disbelief. "If that’s what Roger wants to do, I’d say not. It was extraordinarily generous of you to split the money with Dana."

Faith looked down and shrugged, clearly embarrassed by the praise. "She needs the help more than me."

"Yes, she does," Giles agreed. "But to split that fortune. Why, his collection of 1^st editions alone is worth several million pounds."

"Dusty old books worth seven figures?" Faith gaped at him. "If he fell downstairs tomorrow would that be technically considered a bad thing?" Giles glared at the Slayer. She grinned. "Said that aloud didn’t I? Oops."

* * *

"Yes dear," Roger sighed. "I know, dear. I’ll miss him too. I have some things I’ll have to discuss with you tonight-."

Suddenly his door flew open. "Mr Whyndham-," Dana’s face dropped. "Sorry, sir," the girl backed out. "I didn’t know. I’ll come back later."

"Nonsense dear," he waved the young woman in. "I’ll just be a moment. Have a seat."

"Who is that?" his wife’s grief-stricken voice queried.

"Dana, I’ve told you about her."

"Ah yes, invite her for tea tonight, that poor child’s never left that damnable headquarters of yours has she?"

"There’s a reason for that-."

"That young lady hasn’t got any family. She’s not yours and Rupert’s slave, and she will come over."

Roger winced at the note of hysteria in his wife’s voice. "But of course dear," Roger sighed, realising this was one argument he wasn’t going to win. "Dana," the girl looked up, "would you like to go for dinner with my wife and I?" The young woman beamed and nodded. "She’ll be happy to," he spoke into the phone. "We’ll be there about eight."

"I’ll have Garth make up the spare room," his wife said. "He was a good man."

"Yes," Roger nodded, "a fine man who did a great deal of good." Sighing slightly, he hung up.

"Are you alright Mr. Whyndham-Pryce?"

Roger’s heart almost broke at the girl’s concerned expression. "Fine, my dear. Now what did you want?"

"I thought maybe there was some jobs I could do? Lifting or something? Mr. Giles is talking to Faith in private, he doesn’t need me right now."

"I’m at a loose end at the moment," he smiled before reaching into his desk and pulling out a book, one his wife had bought for Wesley when he was just a child, "so if you want, we could find out what happens to Aslan now that the White Witch has got him?" His heart tightened at the girl’s excited nod. Reading to a child, such an underrated pleasure and one he had so stupidly forgone with his own son.

"Damn it, X," Faith moaned as her boyfriend’s hands expertly, lovingly, explored her body. "I am gonna rock your world." Lowering her head she started to kiss her way down X’s body, eagerly unfastening his -.

"I’m going out! I’m going out!"

"Shit!" Faith snatched at her top, yanking it back on at record-speed as the room door crashed open and an excited Dana rushed in. Turning to face the other Slayer, she froze her with a glare. "Ya ever heard of fuckin’ knocking?"

"Sorry, Faith."

Faith felt a jolt of guilt at Dana’s crestfallen face. Scrambling off the bed, she hurried over to her younger counterpart. "That’s alright, kid," Faith tousled the other girl’s hair. "Just knock in the future. It’s polite, right?"

"Yeah," Dana nodded, an innocently inquiring look on her face. "What were you and Xander doing?"

Faith shot a chuckling Xander ‘a not helping’ glare, before turning back to the younger Slayer. "What are you so excited anyhow kiddo?"

Dana stopped trying to peek around her and at Xander. "Uncle Roger," Faith heard but ignored Xander’s snort, "asked me if I would like to go and have tea with him and Mrs. Whydham-Pryce, and Mr. Giles said I could!"

"That’s great, kid," Faith gave her friend a hug. "But you be good, k?"

Dana nodded. "Oh yeah, sure, Faith. Mr. Giles has already told me I have to be a good girl."

"Dana will be fine," Xander commented. Faith glanced over her shoulder to see her boyfriend re-fastening his shirt. Damn. Faith comforted herself with the thought that getting it off the first time hadn’t been any great ordeal. "You wouldn’t dream of doing anything wrong would you?"

Dana shook her head. "No, Xander. Xander?"

"Yes honey?" her boyfriend queried.

"Were you kissing Faith? Do you hold each others’ hands?"

"Oh lordy," Faith muttered under her breath, choosing a cleaner curse in lieu of her usual filth as Dana’s mouth went into hyperdrive, asking unanswerable question after question. A pre-teen with Slayer energy, truly hell on earth.

Finally, Dana ran out of words or oxygen. Or both. After staring expectantly at them, Dana flung her arms around Faith, squeezing the air out of her lungs. "I’m so excited!" the previously insane Slayer screeched in a high-pitched tone that probably had dogs the length and breadth of England diving for cover. "I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow!"

"Uh, uh," Faith and Xander exchanged uncomfortable glances. "Truth is kid, we might be gone by the time ya get back." Again the younger Slayer’s face fell. "Sorry hon," Faith tousled the other girl’s hair.

"We’ll come by and see you before you go."

Dana’s face lit up at Xander’s words. "Promise?"

"Yeah," Faith glanced at her watch, it was close to four, "what time ya leaving?"

"Uncle Roger said he’d pick me up at his rooms at quarter past seven."

"Meet ya there then, kiddo," Faith promised. "And ya can phone me tomorrow and tell me all about it!"

"Okay," Dana beamed before hugging her again and rushing out. "Bye!"

"Bye!" Faith called before slamming the door shut and turning back to Xander, a seductive look entering her eyes. "So, three hours. Just how are we gonna spend them?"

Xander grinned goofily. "I’ve got a few ideas."

"Oh yeah?" Faith smirked. "Then," stepping towards her boyfriend, she shoved him onto the bed, "let’s get to it."

* * *

"Hey kiddo."

Dana jumped up at the sound of her hero at her door. Standing, she checked herself in her full-length mirror before flinging her door open. "Hey Faith! Hey Xander! What do you think of my dress? It’s my special occasion dress for special occasions!"

Faith smiled at her. "Ya look wicked, kiddo, don’t she X?"

"You look very pretty, Dana," Faith’s boyfriend agreed.

Dana blushed. She’d hate anybody else but Faith for dating Xander, well except Willow but she liked girls everyone knew that, but it was alright that Faith had Xander, Faith deserved him because they were both heroes. "Thank you."

"Five by five," Faith’s face took on a stern expression. "Remember everyone’s trusting ya by letting ya go on this trip out, so ya be good."

"I will!" Dana nodded.

"Of course she will," she beamed as Uncle Roger appeared behind her hero. "And you’d both be more than welcome to join us?"

"I don’t know," Faith scuffed her feet, her brave friend for once looking nervous. "Me and X, kinda got plans-."

"Oh please, Faith!" Dana pleaded. "You’re going away again and I hardly got to see you!"

Faith looked at Xander. Dana’s heart leapt when Xander smiled and nodded. Faith nodded. "Yeah, thanks. We leavin’ now?"

"Indeed we are," Uncle Roger smiled at her, "you look very pretty, Dana."

* * *

"I understand you’re leaving with Vi and Rona in the morning?"

Connor stopped in his training to look at the man he vaguely remembered as his father. "That’s the idea."

"I was thinking," Angel looked as uncomfortable as he felt, "I overheard the two of them discussing wrecking a demon bar tonight, would you be interested in tagging along with them?"

"A chance to create carnage and mayhem?" Connor struck a thoughtful pose. "Let me see. Yes."

"Great, they leave in twenty minutes."

A sudden suspicion struck him. "They don’t know we’re going do they?" he queried.

He realised his father had an almost devilish smile. "Ach, where would the fun be in that?"

"Cool," Connor shoved the 750 lbs he’d been benching into the rack and rose fluidly. "Is Faith coming?"

Angel smirked again. "You get she’s with Xander?"

"Can’t blame a guy for asking," Connor shrugged.

Angel chuckled. "Don’t let Xander hear you asking."

* * *

Faith spent the half-hour journey to the deputy Council head’s mansion in a rare, uncertain silence. Her taking tea or whatever crazy shit the English called it with the parents of a man she’d half-tortured to death? What crazy shit was this? The English were absolutely fuckin’ nuts.

Except the only thing she wanted to do less than this was crush Dana’s hopes. For some fucked up reason the kid idolised her, but her duties meant she wasn’t in England much, the majority of their relationship was conducted by long transatlantic calls, so the least she could do when she was in town was spend as much time as possible with the troubled Slayer. "We’re here."

"Wow!" Dana’s eyes widened at Rog’s announcement, the kid’s mouth not having shut since they’d left the Council compound. "It’s really big isn’t it, Faith?"

Faith forced a smile as she looked up at the three storey building with its imposingly ancient architecture that was maybe older than her home country. "It is that, kiddo," she agreed.

Dana squealed in delight. "Race you, Xander!" The Slayer shrieked before leaping out of the car and running across the lawn towards the house.

"She really doesn’t get the concept of being a Slayer does she?" Xander grinned at Faith before setting off after Dana, although he kept to a rather more sedate walk up the path.

Leaving her with Rog. "Sorry about, uh," her usually glib tongue deserted her, "coming and all, uh, only Dana would be -."

"Nonsense my dear," Whyndham-Pryce chuckled, "the opportunity to have not one but two beautiful young women as my house-guest is a rare pleasure for one of my advanced years. Of course," the older man chuckled, "my wife and your boyfriend are inconveniences," Faith blinked. "Ah well, one will have to make do. Shall we?"

The walk up to the stately home only took a matter of seconds, but for Faith, it seemed like an eternity. Once at the front door, they were met by a well-built, bullet-headed man in his mid-forties. "Madam and the other guests are in the drawing room, sir."

"Thank you, Garth," her host took her leather jacket off her and passed it to the servant, "please hang Miss. Lehane’s coat with the others."

"Yes sir."

Once the butler had disappeared, Roger spoke. "Good man, pensioned off by the Paras five years ago, all these army cutbacks," the Watcher shook his head, "bloody disgrace. Please dear," the Englishman motioned to an oak-panelled door. "Through here."

"Yeah," Faith tore her gaze away from the hallway’s paintings. She didn’t know shit about art, but she knew they were wicked classy.

"Ah," Roger chuckled as they made their way across the wood-panelled floor, "you like my art collection. Townes, Cozens, and the like. None of this modern art rubbish."

"Yeah," Faith nodded, her discomfort increasing at being surrounded by all this rarefied culture. She’d never even finished high school, now she was expected to talk fine art? This was one big fuckin’ mistake.

Whyndham-Pryce stared at her, as if guessing her disquiet. "I’ll let you into a secret," the Watcher opened the door for her, "knowledge of culture, an university education doesn’t mean much, next to the ability to think on one’s feet." Faith smiled at the man, surprised at his insight. The Watcher smiled back, his smile tinged with more than a hint of sadness. "Yes I know I have a reputation as an insensitive prig, but even an old fossil such as myself can learn."

"I never said that!" Faith protested.

"No, my dear, you are far too much of a lady," the Englishman smiled. "I said it. Now," her host turned to a formidable old-looking bird, "Faith, please meet my wife, Alice."

* * *

Rona stopped and looked around, eyes peering into the darkened London alley. "Do you sense it?"

"Relax," Vi counselled with a shake of her head, "you’re imagining things. It’s just a guilty conscience, thinking what Mr. Giles would do if he knew we were here."

"Yeah," Rona nodded reluctantly. "I guess." She glanced left and right. "Ready?"

Her girl-friend smiled impishly before pulling out a gleaming axe. "Ready," she confirmed.

* * *

"They don’t have a clue we’re here, do they?" Connor exulted in a whisper.

"They’re a lot easier to track than Buffy or Faith," Angel confirmed, his eyes focussed on the two young woman ahead of him, vampire eyes ensuring the shadows were little cloak for them. "Either it’s a lack of experience or their instincts aren’t attuned, I don’t know."

"Yeah, whatever," his son said, "we following them or not?"

Angel hid a smile at his son’s impatience. "We’re following them."

* * *

"Another round!"" Spike slammed his empty glass on the counter. Looking around the hazy bar, he saw a motley collection of demons, no-one with any power. Well except that two hundred year old vampire who’d known him from the old days he’d killed upon entry.

And the place was the utter pits. Crap music, shite beer, and a smell that seemed to indicate a Torlac demon had just enthusiastically used the facilities. Of course, Giles’ attitude towards Buffy hadn’t helped. "Wanker," he muttered. He’d been half-tempted to rush off to Italy, except he had no real way of getting there. He half-suspected if he left, Giles would gleefully use that as excuse to label him persona non grata, and no bugger with half a brain wanted that, not with the world’s toughest Wicca and 600 Slayers in the opposite corner. Besides, what was coming was bad. Maybe after they’d sorted that out he’d give thought to going after Buffy.

"Hi every-body," Spike headbutted the counter as he recognised the voice. "In case you’re wondering, we’re not tourists, we’re Slayers. And it’s time for us to wreck the place."

"Oh bloody hell," he muttered as he sensed an even more unwelcome presence approaching. "Can’t a bloke get a pint in peace?"

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