"The memories of the shell say that the one called Wesley thought well of you."

Giles blinked at the leather-clad goddess’ pronouncement. Her way of talking took some getting used to. "He did?"

"He considered you a leader of your people in the same way he thinks of the vampire," he grimaced at being compared to Angel. Illyria laughed. "Hate flows off you like water over a dam. How great of a warrior can you be when you distrust your mightiest ally?" the goddess sniffed. "Ask me your questions. Such as you cannot trouble the mightiest of the old ones –Illyria!"

Giles swallowed a groan. He could tell this was a big mistake, two minutes in and he already hated her.

* * *

"Hey-," the beautiful young woman coughed. "Hello." The Slayer offered her a hand. "Pleased to meet ya, ma’am."

After a second, Alice took the girl’s hand, noting the slight trepidation in the young woman’s gypsy brown eyes. "A pleasure, dear," she smiled. "Why don’t you come through?"

"Yea-, thanks."

"Faith! Faith!" Dana leapt up excitedly at the other Slayer’s approach and began jumping up and down on the spot. "Mrs. Whyndham-Pryce said I could have a room of my own here and come and visit her and Mr. Whyndham-Pryce on the weekends!"

"That’s great kiddo, but you don’t jump around people’s furniture, I mean this stuff is antique," the Slayer coloured slightly and looked towards her and her husband. "Not sayin’ it ain’t nice, just that’s it’s old and you should like respect other people’s stuff."

"I understand exactly what you meant, Faith." Alice turned her gaze towards Dana. "And Faith is quite correct. This isn’t a play-ground, Dana. Please, sit down."

"Sorry Mrs. Whyndham-Pryce." The younger Slayer quickly sat down.

"Good girl," Alice smiled before turning towards Faith. "Dear, would you like a drink before dinner?"

* * *

"Oh really?" Giles scribbled furiously as Illyria talked. Once he’d got past the goddess’ over-powering arrogance he found she was a treasure trove of fascinating information. Some of the species she spoke of were long extinct, but others, why she’d divulged the weaknesses of three of the deadliest demon species still alive as well as debunking a number of the oldest creation myths. "And the Scarellus Of Mythonia?"

His office door crashed open and five of his Slayers rushed in. "Mr. Giles!"

"Impudent children!" Illyria was between them in a second. "You think to interrupt the mighty Illyria when she is talking?"

"Look pal!" growled one of the girls, a busty scouser by the name of Sandra. "You might wanna calm down before I put the nut on you!"

"Illyria, please," Giles tried for a calm tone even as he nervously eyed his collection of rare books. A brawl in here and three decades of collecting could go down the drain. "No disrespect was meant but I’m sure my Slayers would never interrupt us except on a matter of grave importance. Girls?"

As one the Slayers turned away from eyeballing the goddess, although each kept a wary eye on her, and towards him, their faces all showing signs of nervousness. "I was doing a round of the quarters and found five people were unaccounted for," reported Eliza, a sweet Mormon girl from America’s east coast.

"Let me guess, Angel, Spike, and Connor," Giles groaned. Normally he’d have Faith as one of the missing, but she was out with Xander and Dana. "Which two Slayers?"

Eliza hesitated before answering. "Vi and Rona."

* * *

"Ladies, gentlemen," Faith looked up when the butler entered. "Dinner is served in the dinning room."

"Can I sit next to you, Faith?" Dana babbled excitedly. "Please, oh please."

Faith smiled uncertainly. "Maybe we should sit where we’re told kiddo. This isn’t like the Council canteen."

"I should say not," Roger boomed. "The food is of a rather higher quality. Cooked by a former Ritz chef. However," the aging Watcher smiled at them both, "on this occasion I don’t see why you shouldn’t sit together."

"Thanks Uncle Roger," Dana beamed.

"Quite alright, dear," Roger smiled back. "We’re having an English speciality tonight in honour of our colonial guests. Roast beef, Yorkshire pud, and all the trimmings." Roger winked at her. "I hope that won’t be too English for you?"

Faith stomach growled as they reached the dining room entrance, wonderful smells wafting to her. "No," she replied. "I guess that’ll be okay."

"And you my dear," she looked down when Alice took her elbow and guided her to her seat, "can pay for your dinner by telling me all about your Slaying. After almost fifty years of listening to Roger’s stories, I could do with some new ones."

* * *

Spike shook his head as the entire bar rose and charged the two Slayers. "Stupid bints." He sighed as a vampire rushed past him. Drawing his stake, he slammed it into the demon’s back, the demon bursting into dust a half-second later.

"Hey! He was a bloody good custo-, ugh!"

He cut off the bartender with an elbow to the throat before grabbing him around the back of his head and slamming him face-first into the plastic counter, denting it with the force of the impact. "Right then!" he rose off his stool and threw his arms into the air. "Which of you buggers is next?"

* * *

"Thank fuck that’s over with," Faith let out a long-held breath as she closed the door to the room Garth had shown them to behind her. A whole night of Dana pleading for her to tell Slayer stories to the very parents of the man who should have been her Watcher had been wicked strange. And this in a life that had seen her fall in love with a man she’d tried to murder.

Xander raised an eyebrow. "They were okay."

"Yeah, that’s my point, I tortured their son half to death and they invite me around for tea and crumpets?" Faith shook her head. "Forgiving me after what I did, how fucked up is that?"

Xander stared at her. "I forgave you," he pointed out.

"Yeah," Faith smirked. "But I kinda gave you an incentive plan. Although," she tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips thoughtfully.

Xander’s good eye narrowed. "Although what?"

"Ya think ya might be part-English, maybe?"

Xander scowled playfully. "There’s no need to be insulting."

"Oh yeah?" Faith smirked. "Maybe you can punish me for it later."

"Maybe I will," Xander’s scowl gave way to a goody grin.

Faith’s smirk widened. "Can’t wait."

* * *

Alice closed the door behind them both. "I must say, I was quite staggered to see our additional guests."

"Yes," he turned towards his wife. "I know, I’m sorry for springing them on you, but Dana is rather more relaxed around Faith, she trusts her. I’m sorry."

"No," the love of his life shook her head, "Faith’s a delightfully spirited young woman, a real pleasure. I’m just surprised you’d invite her here."

"I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, chief amongst them the way I raised my son," Roger looked down at the carpet. "I can’t ever apologise to him, I left that too late. But he was far from the only victim of my coldness. If I’d been a better father, given him the tools to relate to Faith, maybe that girl’s wasted years in prison could have been avoided. If I can just make it up to her in some way."

He was surprised by his wife’s chuckle. "It’s strange, the tricks life plays on one," Alice ruminated. "The older you get the more you remind me of the handsome young man I fell in love with."

"Is that right?" Roger pulled off his jacket and began to unfasten his tie. "Well at this very moment I’m feeling very young indeed."

His wife’s answering smile was impish to say the least. "Oh, and what should we do with this unexpected fountain of youth?"

"Oh," he took his wife in his arms. "I’ve a few ideas."

"I just bet you have."

And that was the last either of them said for quite some time.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Vi shouted as the Slayer glided beneath a wild haymaker from a four-armed Tentra.

"Keeping my arm in." Spike grinned wickedly before shoving a bottle through the skull of a towering, horn-backed Lethra. The Lethra grunted before falling to the ground. "You?"

The red-head grinned briefly before grabbing the Tentra’s bulky arm and leaping into the air. Her hands still secured around the monster’s limb, she swung around the back of the monster, wrapped her legs around its thick neck and twisted. Spike winced as the monster’s head exploded off its shoulders and the Slayer dropped to the ground beside him. "The same," she replied.

"Hey poofter!" Spike watched as his grand-sire pulled an axe from beneath his overcoat and easily beheaded a Mulkar. "Took your bloody time didn’t you?"

His grand-sire shot him a familiar irritated glance even as he back-elbowed once of the club’s bouncers into the wall. "Shut up, Spike."

"No bloody fun," Spike leapt backwards, hands out-stretched, and hand-sprung onto the counter. Seeing a near-by vampire, Spike grabbed hold of his pony-tail, pulled him up onto the bar, and smoothly staked him.

* * *

"Seven!" Angel groaned as Spike continued to crow. "That’s bloody pathetic. You losing your touch in your old age, grand-pop? Ten, that’s how many I got!"

Angel glared at his grand-childe. "You were there a lot earlier," he replied through gritted teeth. "We had to follow the Slayers from a distance."

"And why was that?" the peroxide blonde queried. "Why was that? Because you had to follow from a distance in case they heard your bloody walker, mate!"

"Do you two ever shut up?" Connor queried as they reached the outer wall of the Council compound.

"He started it!"

"He started it!"

His son sighed. "Guess not then." The demon hybrid looked at the stone wall. "Shall we?"

"Let’s." Angel agreed before leaping over the twenty foot obstacle in a single bound. The moment his feet hit the dirt-packed ground, he groaned. "Giles."

"Quite," the Watcher strode out of the darkness, a score of Slayers with him, and a less than pleased expression on his face. "Might I ask why you left camp without permission?"

Angel groaned inwardly at Spike’s expression, he knew that look. Trouble always followed that look. "Didn’t realise we were prisoners, mate."

Giles’ smile was more than a little Ripperish. "Until I ascertain who’s side the pair of you are on that’s exactly what you are."

"Excuse me!" Angel’s temper flared. "Who the hell do you think you’re talking to!"

Giles didn’t flinch. But then, the Englishman did have ten Slayers stood behind him. "Someone who’s trusting you two rather more than he really thinks he should."

"Trusting us," Spike spat on the ground between them and the Watcher. "That’s bollocks and even the poofter’s smart enough to know that!"

Angel decided to ignore that to continue staring at the Englishman only for the Watcher to return his glare with scorching interest. Angel had the feeling that the Englishman would be more than happy with waiting until dawn, but he wasn’t about to give the Watcher the satisfaction of looking away first. "Uh, Mr. Giles," a suddenly timid-sounding Rona put in, "it was me and Vi’s idea. We thought we’d go out and keep in practice by taking out a demon bar. Angel and Connor just followed us."

"Yes, well," Giles’ glare shifted an inch to the two Slayers. "I’ll be speaking to you two about your behaviour, don’t you worry. And William," Giles’ predatory stare moved to Angel’s grand-childe, "why were you there?"

"Overheard them planning it," Spike put in. "Figured they might need some back-up, so went ahead of them and waited."

Giles looked to be about convinced as he was by that line. After a shake of the head, the Englishman turned around. "Girls, I want four of you on Angel’s door, four on Spike’s, and two on Master Connor’s-."

"Hey," Angel’s temper rose again. It was one thing to distrust him, quite another to doubt his son. "There’s no need for that!"

"Given his parentage I’d say there was every need," Giles glanced at Rona and Vi, "young ladies, we’ll talk in the morning. Good night."

* * *

"Last night was quite the scene, wasn’t it?"

Angel stopped in his sparring with Connor to turn and glare at Spike. "Look, if you’ve come here to gloat about killing more demons than me, don’t. And that Crai is worth any three of your kills anyhow-."

"And they’re off again," Connor muttered.

"Nah," Spike smirked at him as he strutted into the training room, lascivious eye drifting over a number of the working out Slayers. "I was talking about Tweed-Boy, he really doesn’t like us, thought he was gonna set his Slayers on us-."

"Uh dad," Connor interrupted.

Angel ignored his son in favour of trying to reason with Spike. "Well, you kill a man’s girl-friend and he tends to take against you," Angel shrugged. "And he had said don’t leave the compound."

"Yeah, but it looked a bit dicey for a minute there," Spike commented. Angel nodded, Giles’ hatred and distrust was a worry. He turned to comment on it only to stop as he registered the figure stood in the gym’s doorway.

"Tried to warn you," Connor muttered.

The moment his eyes rested on the east coast Slayer, she spun around and fled. "Faith!" he yelled after the Slayer.

"Oh bollocks!"

* * *

Giles looked around his office and smiled wryly. Dana wouldn’t be returning for quite some time, and without her childlike enthusiasm and guileless babble, the office seemed strangely quiet. But at least the Slayer’s absence afforded him the chance to get some work done. "Or maybe not," he muttered as he reached for the .38 in his desk drawer as his door crashed open. He relaxed as he recognised the intruder, mouth opening in gentle reproval only to shut it and warily eye the gun in his open drawer at the incandescent rage on his uninvited guest’s face. "I hope your stay at Roger’s was agreeable Faith," he said, his tone carefully courteous, "and how can I help you?"

The beautiful young woman appeared not to be mollified by his tone, choosing instead to pace the floor. "I heard about you throwing down with Angel, when are ya gonna get he’s one of the good guys?"

"That remains to be seen," seeing the Slayer’s cupid-shaped mouth open, he hurried on, "Faith, you are more than aware of Angel’s past."

Faith stopped in her pacing and spun to face him. "Ya can’t trust him ‘cause he did bad shit in the past? What about me, I tried to kill Xan and B, kidnapped Red, did a whole bunch of shit. Ya saying the same about me?"

Giles hid a wince at the defensive desperation in the brunette beauty’s chocolate brown eyes. "No of course not, dear," he soothed. "You’ve proven your worth a hundred times over the last year, helping us with the First, the vampires you’ve slain, and not least putting Xander back together. While this year, he and Spike have been working for Wolfram & Hart."

"Angel took out the Circle of the Black Thorn! Jesus! They’re one step down from the devil’s board room for fuck’s sake!"

Giles sighed, the girl was nothing if not loyal. "And what if he did that merely to take the Circle’s place?"

"Angel wouldn’t do that!" Faith’s hot defence came in a second.

"He killed Drogyn, the Deeper Well’s guardian to convince the Circle of his intentions! That’s how ruthless he is!"

Faith’s eyes shadowed. "He didn’t have any choice."

Giles resisted temptation to shake his head. Sometimes he worried that Faith was going the same way as Buffy, although at least the brunette managed to keep her loyalties and Slaying separate, something Buffy had singularly failed to do. Comforting himself that he’d know about Angel’s trustworthiness one way or the other soon, he already knew Spike wasn’t to be trusted, Giles changed the subject. "I have your plane booked to take you back to the states just after night-fall. Your Slayer teams have already been given their missions. Except for the teams consisting Sunnydale veterans, you’ll all be doubling up, and the area’s second-in-commands will be compounded at their bases with a minimum of ten Slayers until this is over with."

Faith glared at him for a second before nodding. "Fine!" she snapped before walking out.

Giles sighed. Such a wonderful girl, such conflicting loyalties.

* * *

Gunn stirred in his sleep, the pain in his side agonising. Blinking his eyes open he looked up to see a nondescript white ceiling staring back at him. He tried to sit up only to wince and sink bank onto his bed when the pain inside him increased substantially. Where was he? "You are awake."

"Kinda stating the obvious," he muttered before forcing his throbbing head to turn to his right and blinking his eyes clear. Finally he was able to focus on the figure stood by the door, Illyria. "Where are we?"

"This place," Illyria looked around, "is known as the Council of Watchers. It is home to many warriors."

"Oh yeah," Gunn vaguely remembered Faith and a bunch of other warrior babes turning up just before he passed out so that made a sort of sense. He nodded his head, then wished he hadn’t as the world tipped on its side. "The others?"

"The vampires survived," Gunn’s stomach hollowed at the goddess’ hesitation, "Wesley did not."

"Yeah," Gunn gasped as the pain of Wesley’s death hit him a second time. The first time, he’d not had time to grieve, too busy hurting and thinking of the battle ahead, but now, the agony he felt made the pain in his side seem like nothing. "I kinda remember. What’s happening?"

"The vampires have left with Slayers to fight the forces of evil. I stayed here at the request of the Watcher leader," the goddess paused momentarily, "and to make sure you were alright. The shell and Wesley would have wanted it."

"Well," he winced, partly through the pain in his side and partially through the guilty memories of Fred. "Thanks."

Illyria nodded curtly. "The shell would have wanted it," she repeated. "She had affection for you."

And that truth made his part in her demise so much the worse.

* * *

"You shouldn’t be angry with Giles."

Faith glanced up at Angel as he slid into the plane seat beside her, Xander having taken his customary seat up beside the pilot of the jet, one of the six jets the new, improved Council owned, for the plane’s take-off. "You wanted to hear the shit he was saying about ya! How come I get a second chance but ya don’t?"

"Because you never killed the love of his life," Angel smiled sadly. "Yes, I know it wasn’t me, but after that, Giles only tolerated me for Buffy. And now I’ve spent the last year working for Hell. Inc, which only deepens his distrust." Angel shook his head. "You know the night Angelus murdered Jenny, Giles came after Angelus, Drusilla, and Spike, on his own. He’s a dangerous man to anger."

"Yeah, but you ain’t Angelus," Faith protested. "I know Angelus," Faith shuddered at the memory, "and you ain’t him."

Angel shook his head. "Giles doesn’t know what I am, that’s the problem." Angel looked up. "Xander’s on his way back." The vampire rose. "I’ll go sit in the back. I’ve earned Giles’ dislike with all I’ve done, don’t defend me, I’m not worth risking all you’ve built up for."

"Yes, you are," she whispered as her friend walked to the back

* * *

Rio

"That’s his plane!" Willow jumped up and down on the spot, eyes lightening up. "I’m so excited!"

"Yeah great," Kennedy grunted as she leant against a wall in the waiting area of one of Rio’s most exclusive private airports. Normally she found Willow’s boundless enthusiasm amusing, endearing, but when the subject was their current guest’s arrival, it bordered on the annoying.

Willow stopped and turned to her, a disapproving look on her face. "You could try being a little more welcoming. This is Spike! We haven’t seen him in a year!"

Not long enough in Kennedy’s opinion. She’d never gotten how blind Buffy and Willow were about him. At least Giles and Xander were wary, although why either of them had tolerated his presence was beyond her. "Yeah, William the Bloody. Who killed two of my predecessors."

"And who saved the world!" Willow exclaimed.

"Yeah, well, didn’t he try and end it a few times?" Kennedy argued. "And spent the last year working for Wolfram & Hart?"

"I still say the other Slayers weren’t needed," Willow glanced at the other three Slayers. "No offence."

Kennedy stared back unflinchingly. "And I still say they were. No offence."

* * *

Munich

"See that building over there!" Connor exclaimed. "That’s Maximilianeum, home of the Bavarian parliament."

"Is this your first time in Munich, Connor?" Rona queried.

Connor pulled up short at the question. "Yes and no. Remember that memory thing I told you about on the flight over?" The two Slayers nodded. "I remember coming here in 2000."

"Before you were actually born?" Vi queried. He nodded.

"Even for our lives you’re weird," Rona commented.

"Tell me about it," he agreed.

* * *

"Now, it’s nearly time for dinner," Giles checked his watch before turning off the flat-screen monitor sitting on his desk. "I fancy some fish and chips from the canteen." Standing, he glanced towards the Slayer sat in the corner of his office. "Would madam do the honour of joining for dinner?"

"Sure," Dana muttered.

Giles cast a worried look at the transplanted American, her arms crossed and her eyes fixed to the floor. He’d expected to be even more excited than usual, full of tales of what she’d gotten up to at Roger’s the previous night. Instead, she’d barely spoken. Ignoring aging and creaking limbs, he crouched down before the young woman. "Dana, what’s wrong?" When the Slayer didn’t answer, he pressed. "Dana?"

The Slayer didn’t look up. "Heard one of the Slayers saying you’d been fighting with Faith, shouting and everything." The young woman trembled. "Don’t like it when my friends hate each other, I want everyone to be friends."

"Oh Dana," Giles gently stroked the girl’s hair. "I don’t hate Faith, we just had an argument. We’re still friends." Well, at the moment anyway, he silently added. "It’s like when you’re naughty and I tell you off. Just because I’m angry doesn’t mean I don’t care."

Dana looked up, a heart-breaking fear in her eyes. "You promise?"

"I promise," he extended his hand. "Now how about we get some dinner and you tell me all about your trip out?"

After a second, the emotionally-damaged Slayer rose and tentatively took his hand. "Sure."

Giles forced himself to respond to the girl’s smile with one of his own. If only all problems were so easily solved.

"You humans are weak creatures."

Giles looked up at the goddess and sighed. And good morning to you Illyria, he mentally greeted. Either the goddess didn’t get the concept of knocking or more likely thought such conventions didn’t apply to beings such as her. "What makes you think that?" he queried.

"The one the shell knew as Gunn," the goddess continued. "He is by your standards

a mighty warrior, one capable of fighting many battles. And yet, he easily hurt and takes a considerable time to recover from his wound."

Giles quelled his annoyance at the goddess’ easy dismissal of his race. "We’re strong in other ways."

"I have yet to see that."

Giles ignored the contempt in the Old One’s voice. "The ability to feel for one, all those emotions you sense in others, and struggle to control in yourself, we take them for granted."

Illyria sniffed. "A trifling thing, nothing to the power I possess."

"Hi, Mr. Giles!" Dana hurried in. Again without knocking, why did he even have a door? "Have you heard anything from Faith?"

"Only that they’ve landed, dear," Giles passed Dana her book. "Why don’t you read that for a while?"

"Thanks Mr. Giles!" the Slayer beamed. "But you’ll tell me as soon as you do?"

"You’ll be the first to know," he promised.

"You are too soft on her," Illyria continued as if Dana hadn’t entered the room. "No leader should treat their underlings with such -."

"Hey!" exclaimed Dana, her face mottling with rage. "Don’t you talk to Mr. Giles like that or I’ll hit you!" the Slayer stepped towards the impassive goddess. "I’m strong you know!"

"Strong?" the goddess laughed haughtily. "You are weak next to one who has walked across dimensions."

"How about I knock you through one?" Dana’s anger briefly dimmed, replaced by a beaming smile. "Faith will like that, I’ll have to remember that one."

"Ladies, please." Giles took his life in his own hands and hurried between the two women. "Illyria," Giles glanced towards the goddess, "Dana isn’t my underling, she’s my friend and my responsibility, I look after her."

"She is your child?"

Giles glanced fondly at Dana. "Close, but not exactly."

"Um," the goddess looked briefly interested. "I will have to watch you together to learn more about your relationship."

Giles noticed it wasn’t a question and sighed. Today was going to be another of those long days.

* * *

Munich, Germany

"So you’re the son of a vampire? After he was turned?"

Connor sighed long-sufferingly. "Two vampires actually, that’s how it usually happens, it takes two babe, like the song. Weren’t you informed I was coming?"

The big black man questioning him nodded. "Oh yeah, sure I got the memorandum. It’s just," the black man shook his head before leaning against the wall behind them, "seeing is believing. How do your powers manifest themselves?"

Connor smiled. This guy was really starting to get on his nerves. "Got a gym?" He’d give him something to really think about.

* * *

Rio, Brazil

"Spike!"

"Right there, Willow," Spike strutted into the private airport and smiled at the withc’s boundless excitement. He’d missed that. "Good to see you, Kennedy," Willow’s girl-friend grunted. Unabashed, he looked towards the other three girls stood panther-like against the far wall, their aura marking them as Slayers, not in Buffy or Faith’s league, but a match of the two he’d killed. "Right girls," he winked and received a trio of scowls in reply. Grinning, he turned to Willow. "A guard of honour, you shouldn’t have."

"Willow’s security," Kennedy snapped. "She trusts you, I don’t."

"Kennedy!" exclaimed Willow, a look of shock on her face.

Spike raised an eyebrow. It was lucky he was adverse to the heat, because this welcoming committee was distinctly chilly. "Pleasure to see you too, luv."

* * *

New York

"Can I come in?"

There was a pause before he was answered. "Faith’s gone downstairs for something to eat, if you go down to the buffet, and I mean the actual dining room with the actual buffet not the people in the lobby, you’ll find her on her fourth or fifth steak. Steak as in meat, not stake as in you’re dust."

Angel paused for a second, seething inwardly at Harris’ less than subtle digs. When would Harris grow up? Did he really want to do this? Deciding for Faith’s sake he had to at least try, he spoke again. "It’s you I want to see."

"Oh," there was another pause. "Come in I guess."

Angel raised an eyebrow at the less than enthusiastic reply. "Thanks," he paused for a second, "I guess." Walking in, he found Xander stood by the balcony, looking out into the sunlit day. "I’m not going to bite you," he snapped. "Come inside so we can talk."

"What?" Xander looked briefly confused before shaking his head and stepping inside. "No, I was just taking in the view. You can see everything here, the Empire State Building, Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty-."

"We’re not here as tourists, Xander."

"No," the Sunnydale native shook his head. "I was just thinking, if we fail, all this, the Seven Wonders of the World, Stonehenge, and the Great Wall of China, is gone. Everything that’s been built up over the last few thousand years, gone." The young man paused. "Of course if we lose Martha Stewart goes too, so silver lining."

Angel grinned tightly, surprised by Xander’s sudden depth. "No she doesn’t, she’s a demon, I’ve seen the contracts."

"Figures," Xander nodded.

"Anyway we’re not going to lose," Angel broke the uneasy silence that followed their initial exchange. "We’ve won too many battles between us to fail now, we’ve saved the world, what over a dozen times between the lot of us?" He paused again. "But if we’re to succeed we’ve got to be all on the same page." Xander sighed. "Look Xander, we’ve got to be on the same page here, for everyone’s sake, the world’s sake. And I’m sure Faith would like it too."

The Californian stared at him for a long second before speaking. "You know I always got there was a difference between Angelus and Angel. Trouble was, I always thought Angelus was the more honest of the two of you." Angel blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. "With Angelus it was all torture and death, but at least he was honest about it. But you," Xander snorted. "You acted all noble to get into Buffy’s pants, but the truth was you couldn’t give a shit about the world as long as Buffy was okay. The rest of us, you couldn’t give a damn about."

"Now hold on!"

"Remember a sixteen year old kid having to force you into the tunnels to rescue ‘the love of your life’," Angel clamped his mouth shit, shame filling him, not his greatest moment. "But," the youth paused. "You saved Faith and if you hadn’t, I’d not be as happy as I am now, happier than I’ve ever been, so I owe you. And ‘cause of that, and because she wants me to, I’m going to give you a chance." The intensity in the young man’s single eye was unsettling. "A Slayer once persuaded me to give you a chance, and I’ve regretted that ever since. Don’t make me regret this time either."

"I won’t," he promised. "Xander," the youth looked at him. "Maybe after this is finished, you should take a holiday and take Faith to all those places you just mentioned."

"Yeah," Xander smiled wistfully. "That sounds like a good idea."

* * *

Munich, Germany

Wood gaped as the kid who must have weighed a buck and a half tops, clean and jerked somewhere in the region of 700lbs. Any Slayer could lift a hell of a lot more, but that was hardly the point, he’d never seen a guy with those abilities. "And what other enhancements do you have?"

Connor racked the weight before turning to him. "I heal faster than humans, probably not as fast as a Slayer, but my hearing, smell, and eyes are all better than a Slayer’s, much better. What’s our mission?"

Wood was briefly thrown by the question but recovered quickly. "Me, you, Rona, and Vi are hitting a demonic cabal in downtown Munich. Nothing really heavy, but word is they’ve snatched a bunch of kids and are planning to sacrifice them to cast a depression spell."

"A depression spell?"

"Something to take away people’s hope."

"Sounds fun," Connor smiled. "They could just play them tapes of my dad singing, that has the same effect."

* * *

Rio, Brazil

Ignoring Kennedy’s glare, Spike put his feet up on the Slayer’s headrest as their van sped through Rio, the sound of bongo drums outside and salsa music playing outside easily audible for one with his attuned senses. "What’s the big plan, who are we hitting Red?"

"Some demons are acting as money men for the Colombian Cartels, they plan to meet with them here and get them to quadruple cocaine production and movement to Europe and America, create tens of thousands of new addicts and send crime rates through the roof, create more despair for the world." Kennedy replied for Willow, her tone clipped. "We’re going to hit the demons before they get chance to make the meet. No money, the deal falls through."

"Nice," Spike nodded. "So when does it kick off?"

* * *

"Who’s the target?" Angel queried as his two companions finished their lunch sat in their four star hotel’s expansive yet tastefully decorated dining room.

"Some chick-," Faith’s explanation was interrupted by a belch.

Xander and Angel exchanged amused looks. "That water’s got a kick to it, hasn’t it?" Xander commented.

"Couldn’t be those four steaks and three chicken breasts she just ate?" Angel queried.

"I’m a growing girl," Faith defended.

"With expanding borders," Xander muttered.

Faith shot Xander a look that if Angel had been in the one-eyed man’s place would have sent him leaping through the window. Xander just smiled. "You know that politician in LA. you killed?"

"Senator Brucker?"

"Yeah," Xander nodded. "New York’s got one too."

"Hilary Clinton?" Xander and Faith stared at him. "It would explain a lot."

"You can’t crack jokes," Xander shook his head. "It’s against the natural order."

"Yes I can," he defended. "I’m a changed man. Besides I wasn’t joking, but I can tell jokes."

"Yeah that’s right X," Faith put in, "he just can’t tell good ones."

"Thanks for the support, Faith."

"Think nothing of it, big guy."

Shaking his head at the Slayer’s gleeful smirk, he turned to Harris. "When do we go?"

* * *

Council HQ, England

"Hello, Mr. Gunn."

Charles looked up from the month’s issue of ‘Sports Illustrated’ to see a greying, bespectacled man who kinda reminded him of Wes only older, stood in the doorway of his hospital room. "It’s just Gunn, and you are?"

"I beg your pardon," the man chuckled before striding in. "I’m Rupert Giles, head Watcher."

"Heard of you, from Wes and Angel, a little from Cordy too."

The man chuckled again. "Cordelia? I rather doubt you heard much about me from young Miss Chase, I was rather too fuddy duddy for her to notice me." The Englishman stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Young lady, we have a guest. Show some manners and come and meet him."

"Yes, Mr. Giles," a stunning, athletic brunette strode into the room, a shy look on her face.

"Good girl," the raven-haired beauty beamed at the man’s praise, "now, introduce yourself."

"Hello," the girl stuck out a hand that he shook, "I’m Dana."

"Gun-," his eyes shot to the Englishman, "Dana?"

"Don’t worry," he looked back at the suddenly sad-looking girl, "Miss. Rosenberg did a spell and I’m not mad anymore, but my brain doesn’t work properly like other people’s."

"It works just fine, dear," the Watcher comforted with a pat on the former lunatic asylum patient’s shoulder, "now why don’t you sit down and read your comic while myself and Gunn speak."

"Okay Mr. Giles," the formerly insane Slayer nodded before sitting down on the chair by the door.

Gunn stared at the Slayer. "Yes," he looked towards the sad-looking Englishman, "the sad thing is, she’s better off now than she would have been if she’d never been Called if you can believe that." The Englishman shook his head. "And your injuries, how are they healing?"

"I should be out of bed in just a few days," Gunn reported.

"Excellent," the Watcher beamed. "I trust Illyria has informed you of our situation?"

"Yeah," Gunn said guardedly. Including the Englishman’s attitude towards Angel.

"Wonderful," the Englishman nodded. "I was wondering that once you’re fit you’d teach some classes to the Slayers."

"Me teach Slayers?" Gunn stared up at the Englishman. "From what I remember of Faith, they don’t need my help kicking ass."

The Watcher chuckled. "No, true enough. But Faith is rather unique." Gunn could agree with that, he’d never quite seen a woman who could be quite so scary and sexy at the same time. "The Slayers here while sharing her skills don’t have anything like her experience. And your experience would be a valued teaching tool."

"Wow!" exclaimed Dana. "A new teacher! That is so cool!" Dana stared at the Watcher. "Not that you’re not a great teacher Mr. Giles! Say you’ll do it!" the girl pleaded.

"Uh," Gunn smiled dazedly at the excited Slayer. Deciding it wasn’t like he could help the others, not the condition he was in right now, he shrugged. "I guess so."

"Wonderful," the Watcher beamed at him.

"Is everything in place for the others?" Gunn queried.

The older man’s face tightened. "Indeed it is."

"When does everything start?" Gunn grimaced, he only wished he could be with them, kicking ass and taking names.

The Englishman’s face sobered. "In just a few hours."

Istanbul, Turkey

"Papa Bear to Mama Bear, are you receiving me?"

"Mama Bear, here," his wife replied.

"Papa Bear to Baby Bear, are you receiving me?"

"Here," came the replying grunt.

Riley’s lips pulled up in a half-grin. "That’s not the proper reply," he scolded.

He heard his best friend’s hiss through the radio. "Baby bear, here."

Riley nodded, immediately serious, his eyes fixed on the dark warehouse in one of Istanbul’s most run-down industrial districts looming just ahead of them. "Remember, any and all hostiles inside are to be terminated with extreme prejudice. If they manage to set off the bombs they’ve planned, we’ll be talking a civil war between the Turks and Kurds. None of them get out. On my count, three, two," he nodded towards his detachment’s second-in-command, "one!"

The door shattered when the C4 packed there by his explosives expert went off, the resulting boom and sound of the building’s corrugated steel wall rattling reverbrating through him. "In!" he roared as he raced towards the gaping hole, H&K MP5 held ready.

The moment he stepped through the building, a Muzit leapt at him, fangs bared. He put it down with a double head-tap before moving on, eyes flicking left and right as he searched the warehouse, grimacing at what he saw. There were crates stacked everywhere and only scant lighting from a few bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The place was an ambush waiting to happen.

Even as the thought crossed his mind it was confirmed by a monstrous demon shape charging him, knocking crates over in its eagerness to attack him. His sub-machine came up, flames sprouted out of the muzzle and smashed into the monster’s milky-white eyes, knocking it flat on its back, its body spasming in its death throes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of his men, a new recruit from Libya by the name of Khmus, shoot and hit a looming Mildu. But only in the chest. The demon roared and staggered but continued on at the suddenly paling Arab. Cursing, he swung around and aimed his gun.

"Mine!" Riley barely managed to avoid shooting a lightning blur that leapt between him and the demon, a sword flickering up to take the demon’s head off its shoulders, blood fountaining everywhere. The demon’s killer turned to him and beamed.

"Irem," Riley shook his head reprovingly at the Turkish vampire Slayer. "You should have waited for my confirmation before jumping in, I could have you shot you."

"But then he’d be dead," the Slayer shook her head, long black locks dancing with the motion, "can we discuss this later?"

"Slayers," Riley muttered with a shake of his head before looking towards Khmus. "Remember as a rule of thumb, demons don’t get off if you blow their heads off. Now, let’s go!"

An hour later and they’d cleared the warehouse, the explosives were defused and taken care of, and all the demons dead. Riley looked around his team. "You did well," he praised. "We’re on a flight to Siberia in eight hours. That gives us an hour for debriefing, six for sleep, and then one for reequipping. Move out!" Even as he followed his troops he couldn’t help but wonder how everyone else was doing.

* * *

Tel Aviv

Kate Lockley watched the nightclub from across the street, hidden in the shadows with one of the three Slayer teams that were her responsibility. It was, she reflected, a strange old world, she’d never dreamed she’d leave her home country, much less work for an organisation like the Watchers. But when Xander Harris had approached her eleven months ago, she’d been somehow compelled to accept. Being a San Diego cop seemed somehow small next to helping the entire world night after night.

And now, she was the head Watcher of their Israeli sub-office. One outside the front of the club with her, one around the back with her fellow Watcher, Justine Cooper, and the one in the no doubt considerably warmer club with her second subordinate Watcher.

"They’re here," Kate tensed as she saw a van with tinted windows pull up. Her breath caught at the monster that was dragged out of the car. She’d never seen one before, not in the flesh anyway, but she knew what it was anyway. "An uber-vamp," she muttered, suddenly colder than she was just seconds ago.

Gathering herself, Kate sent a warning page to both of her subordinate Watchers before glancing towards her team. "Let’s go." Looking left and right, the four of them hurried across the busy road.

By the time they reached the van it was too late, the uber and its two handlers, powerful dark mages according to their information, had already gone in, leaving the front of the club a blood-soaked mess. Stepping over the shredded corpses in the doorway, she hurried in, her mind awhirl with thoughts. An uber unleashed in this the most volatile of cities, it could easily turn the entire city into a charnel-house for both its Jewish and Arabic inhabitants.

Stepping through the shattered glass entrance, she saw that the strobe-lit club had already mostly emptied, its patrons having fled through the back fire doors opened by her other team, the dj’s hip-hop still loudly playing. Turning her attention towards the club’s on-going fight, she noted just how big the uber being circled by her other team was, close to seven foot tall with muscles that a WWE champion would be proud of. She grimaced as she noticed one of her subordinates lying dying on the ground, his lifeblood seeping out of a gash in his neck, and drew her gun, and sighted on the two warlocks with the demon.

Her first shot smashed into the back of the head of the nearest warlock. Brains flew out of the back of the mage’s caved in skull, splattering the toilet door behind him as he slid down to the ground, body jerking spasmodically. Turning her attention to the second mage, she saw it hit the floor from a sword-strike from one of the Slayers at the same time as the demon exploded into dust.

Kate looked around her, nose wrinkling at the carnage, the smashed tables, the blood soaking the floor, and the dead corpses littered around. "Let’s go," Kate shouted over the music. "We have to get out of here before the police arrive." They’d done their part, they could only hope that the city’s inhabitants had the sense not to turn their city into a bloodbath over this.

Given her experience of her fellow men she wasn’t optimistic.

* * *

Cairo, Egypt

Groo padded silently through down-town Cairo, the normally boisterous bazaars closed down for the night, and the stench of the refuse piled up in the winding alleys wafting to him on the cool night air.. Hearing the sound of approaching drunks ahead of him, he glided soundlessly into the shadows and waited for a noisily partying trio of two men and one woman to pass him by, oblivious to his presence.

Once they’d gone, he stepped out of the shadows and continued on his way. Zabuto had wanted to send a team of girls with him, but he’d argued that this was no work for the Slayers, and eventually won through.

This murder was to be on his conscience alone.

Hearing the creak of a door opening, he stepped into a near-by alleyway and waited until the pedestrian had continued merrily on their unmindful way. Stepping out again, he continued, the only sound now cars in the distance.

Finally he stopped outside a three storey building. Looking around to check he was alone, he stepped into the alley beside it, walked up to the side door and kicked. Wood splintered under his heel, and the door swung inwards.

Entering, he strode inside, fingers stroking the reassuring weight of the sword secured under his flapping leather-jacket, he’d styled his look on the mighty champion, Angel. His eyes searched the inky darkness, allowing his other senses to stretch out before him.

He hit the ground a half-second before a door to his right crashed open and a fireball smashed into the wall behind where he’d been stood. Leaping up, he drew his sword and spun to face his adversary.

The house owner was a short, fat man with a genial face and balding head, dressed in a towelled dressing gown and wearing a pair of horned-rimmed glasses which he peered through uncertainly. "I say," the man quavered, his mouth opening to reveal yellowed teeth, "who are you?"

"I am the Groosalug," Groo replied, warily watching the continent’s most powerful dark arts mage and former Watcher. "And I am here to kill you on behalf of the Council of Watchers!"

"Kill me?" the man laughed, jowls wobbling, before drawing himself up to the full extent of his diminutive height. "I am Marcus Heidnman! The leader of the Last Dawn, and you think to kill me!"

"Your demon friends are dying as we speak," Groo replied, hoping with all his heart the girls he’d been training were alright.

Flames danced in the mage’s eyes. "Maybe so," the man’s mouth stretched into a death-head’s smile. "But I’ll not be the one joining them."

Groo leapt to the right as a fireball flew towards him, scorching the wall behind him, the smell of burning filling the otherwise cold air. Even as the mage raised his hand for another throw, Groo drew a knife and threw.

His blade flew true, straight at the wizard’s left eye.

Only to stop three inches from its target, frozen in mid-air. The wizard smiled. "Please. Did you-." The mage’s eyes looked down, a look of shock frozen on his face.

Groo finished dragging his sword through the mage’s neck, having just forward-rolled to his side, and watched the mage’s decapitated body crash to the ground. After wiping his blade clean, Groo re-sheathed it, and made a quick phone call. "It’s done," he whispered as he hurried out of the darkened house. "Marcus Heidnman is dead."

* * *

Brisbane

"You’re sure?" Robson pressed.

Kiah nodded, the Aboriginal’s face sparkling with excitement, the light in her dark eyes only adding to the young girl’s beauty. "I’m sure."

"Shall we go ahead?" asked Talia, the other Aboriginal Slayer.

Robson stared at the imposing building across the road from him and his companions, its gothic architecture at odds with the sprucely modern buildings around them. According to records at Company House, this was an import\export business. In fact it was an occult auction house, the holder of some of the world’s most dangerous and feared magical artefacts. Artefacts that would be very useful for the forces of evil in the upcoming battle.

Robson turned to the fourth member of their team, a taciturn French soldier. "The CCTV?"

The Frenchman held up the box in his hands. "Still jammed."

Robson nodded before speaking into his walkie-talkie. "Are you clear, girls?"

"Clear, sir," came the crackling voice from the other side of the house.

Robson shook his head as he looked at the building. It had taken a real effort to break into the auction house, there’d been guards, booby traps, and a top-of-the-market surveillance system. But they’d done it. And then when they’d succeeded, rather than steal the tremendous power located inside the building, they’d merely set explosives to destroy it all.

Such power wood be a boon to them in the coming battle.

But with such power always came a price. And he wasn’t prepared to pay with his soul. "I have my orders," he muttered, remembering Rupert’s admonishments about the temptation involved. He couldn’t fail the man who’d saved him. Finally he pressed the remote control.

The ground beneath his feet shook with the force of the explosion, windows shattered, glass flying outwards, and the building crumpled, almost as if stamped on by a giant foot. Robson stared at the orange-red flames flickering through the building. Even at the distance of some forty metres, the heat was considerable. "Sir? Shouldn’t we be going?"

Robson glanced at Talia and smiled. "Of course, let’s go."

* * *

Montreal, Canada

"Are we all ready?"

Harriet Doyle nodded, tight curls bouncing at the movement. She stared intently at the looming warehouse ahead of them. "Ready," she agreed.

Oliver Pike, rumoured former boy-friend of Buffy Summers, although he never spoke of his past, and partner and fellow Watcher for six months, nodded. "Good," the man’s boyishly-featured face stretched in a grimace. "Be careful, girls." Her best friend glanced over his shoulder to the four Slayers crouched in the back of the van. "A Megadyanmis is big, very big. And strong, not smart but physically powerful."

"We know," the quartet of supernaturally powered warriors chorused.

Harriet scowled, noting the nonchalant way the Slayers responded to Pike’s warning. Too many successes were making the girls complacent, a smugness that could easily result in one of them being injured.

Deciding to talk to the girls once this mission was over with, she swung her door open, leaving the van’s comforting warmness for the chill of a Canadian night. As she approached the building she reviewed what she knew of the Megadyanamis. According to Watcher Intelligence it had been summonsed two days ago by a black arts mage so fanatical he had willingly sacrificed his own life to fuel the arcane ritual. Once on this plane of existence, the Megadyanamis needed three whole days to gain a full hold on this plane

Harriet ducked behind an eighteen wheeler as a pair of policeman passed by. She really didn’t want to be stopped by the police, not while carrying enough weaponry to start a small war. While waiting for the police to pass, she thought some more about the Megadyanamis. The plan behind its rising was a simple but bloody one, once it reached full power, it would break loose of the warehouse and head into Montreal, ripping through anything that got in its way, creating carnage and terror in roughly equal measures. As plans went, it wasn’t sophisticated but it would more than achieve its goal, that of spreading more panic and weakening the walls between this dimension and hell.

Unless they stopped it.

Once the policeman had walked off into the distance, blithely unaware either of their presence or the near-by danger, Harriet let out a tense breath. Stepping out of the shadows, she looked towards Carol and Louise, two Slayers from Alberta. "You’re with me," she instructed before glancing towards Pike. "Back or front."

Her fellow Watcher half-smirked. "Our turn to take the back."

"Okay," she nodded. Heart hammering, she stepped out of the shadows and hurried towards the building, her Slayers protectively flanking her. In all the years since she’d met Francis and become interested in studying demonology she’d become convinced that many demon species were different on the outside, but on the inside wanted the same things as humans – family, a home, and to belong. But there were other species that wanted nothing more to wreck destruction and terror, and there were few demons more capable of doing it than a Megadyanamis.

Finally they reached the warehouse’s rotting double-doors. She spoke into her radio, her voice taut with the strain. "In position," she muttered.

"Ditto," replied her partner.

Harriet looked towards Carol and Louise. "Now!"

The Slayers’ feet simultaneously crashed into the door, flinging it open. Harriet stepped through the door, reaching inside her denim jacket for the snub nosed .32 automatic she kept there in a shoulder holster.

And recoiled in horror at the sight that met her.

The demon was beyond huge, standing an easy ten feet tall with a set of muscles that would make a World Strongest Man’s competitor jealous, all encased in a yellow, plate-like armour. Its face was the visage of lurid nightmares, its mouth running from floppy ear to floppy ear and filled with the sort of teeth that could rip a man’s arm off without even thinking about it. Its glowing, green eyes flanked an upwards curving horn, its gleaming point adding another foot to the monster’s height.

Gathering herself, she drew her gun and fired at the monster. Blue sparks flew off its chest, but the bullets might have well as been mosquito bites for all the effect they had. "No!" she screamed as her two Slayers bounded forward, axes swinging.

Carol was first to the demon and first to hit the ground when he caught her with a clubbing backhand that sent the blonde Slayer flying into the air, pony-tail bobbing wildly, and crashing into the wall by the broken door. Louise let out a scream as she leapt into the air, axe swinging, only for her blow to bounce harmlessly off the beast’s chest. Harriet saw the Slayer’s eyes widen in horror even as the demon’s football-sized fist smashed into her face, blood gushing out and the sound of bone smashing echoing horribly in Harriet’s ears. The Slayer hit the ground in an unmoving heap.

Pike’s two Slayers attacked but were similarly brutally disposed of. But no Pike, Harriet noticed as she hurried towards Louise, stepping over the broken Slayer and defiantly firing useless bullet after useless bullet into the Megadyanamis. Where was her partner?

The beast’s triumphant roar shook the building. And then suddenly the wall nearest the street exploded inwards, bricks and motor flying everywhere as the 18-wheeler they’d passed on the way into the warehouse flew through the wall. The demon barely had time to turn its head towards the unexpected intrusion before the screeching18-wheeler hit it. The demon roared in pain as it was flung into the far wall, the building shaking for a second time as the truck once again crashed into the giant demon, crushing the monster between the truck and the wall.

Harriet’s eyes widened as the juggernaut’s door flew open and a very familiar figure jumped out. "Pike!"

"You were expecting Dr. Livingston?" her friend’s smile faded as he noted the crumpled Slayers. "I saw the hammering you were all taking and figured another strategy was needed. Let’s get them out of here before the police turn up."

"Let’s," she agreed.

New York

"Hello," Todesengel rose with a practiced smile as the door to their campaign office swung open and a vampire strutted in. The handsome, powerfully-built man looked to be around thirty years old, but he could smell the power wafting off him, he was a strong vampire, possibly the strongest he’d ever met and he’d served ‘The Prince Of Lies’ until his unfortunate demise during the second world war. "We’re not really taking on volunteers for Senator Holle’s campaign at the moment," his smile widened. "But I’m sure we can make an exception for such an esteemed person as yourself."

"Ach, laddie," the vampire was definitely Irish. "Your welcome fair warms my undead heart, so it does."

"That’s what the senator’s about, all of the undead and hellspawn." Todsengel looked towards the man. "And who are you, sir?" he eagerly asked. The vampire had to be a celebrity, probably one of the European powers.

"Ach," the man shrugged his wide shoulders. "Names are so unimportant, don’t ya think? But me, I’m Angel."

* * *

Angel smiled when the skinny demon stepped back, panic etched on his face. He might not be Angelus, but he still enjoyed the power his name had. "ANGEL!"

The moment the demon had screamed his name, he’d served his purpose and Angel thrust the stake he’d been palming home with dispassionate ease. Another demon jumped across a desk to come at him from his left, but caught a stake in mid-leap. Another charged him head on, a roundhouse kick sent him flying into the wall. As another three of the ‘senatorial aides’ charged him, he saw another five vampires shoving the candidate out of a door in the back of the office. "Just like Xander said," he muttered as he caught a clumsily thrown right and pulled its owner onto a stake, "divide and conquer works every time."

* * *

"This way, Senator Holle," instructed her right-hand man as he dragged her through the passageway that led to the private underground car-park that housed her black mustang convertible. "He won’t catch us, we’ll be long gon-." The demon’s voice trailed off when they turned a corner to find an one-eyed man sat on the front of her car, wearing a long black coat.

"Hi guys," the man smiled. "Are you having fun yet?"

An one-eyed man, her mouth dried. Their extensive files indicated that Angel only knew one one-eyed man, the Sunnydale survivor Xander Harris.

Which meant, she looked behind her, the dark Slayer had to be here somewhere. Her heart dropped as she saw the third of her five bodyguards exploding into dust. Desperate to escape the coal-eyed killer, she charged towards the young man, intent on killing him and grabbing her car.

And instead screamed when he brushed aside his jacket, pointed the gaping muzzle of a shotgun at her and pulled the trigger.

* * *

"Well that was easy," Xander jumped off the car and to the ground.

"Yeah," hips swaying, his gorgeous girl-friend strutted over to him, the last of the five vampires exploding into dust. "I’ve been a good Slayer, killing all the nasty vamps," Xander gasped when Faith grabbed the back of his head and pulled him towards her inviting lips, "now give me my reward."

His girl-friend pressed her soft yet strong body against him, grinding her crotch to his even as she pressed her lips to his, and eagerly worked her tongue into his mouth, stroking his own tongue with erotic ease. "Please, please," he heard Angel’s voice in the distance. "Don’t do that. There’s people with a sense of decency here."

"Jealous, Fang?" Faith asked as she pulled away and looked towards the vampire stood in the car lot’s entrance. "’Cause I’m willing to rent out X’s lips. At a reasonable rate."

Both he and Deadboy shuddered. "No, you’re alright," Angel raised a hand, his expression queasy. "Hadn’t we be best be moving onto the next target?"

"Bush, tell me Bush is a demon," Faith pleaded. "I’ve always wanted to kill me a president."

Angel looked at him. "You’re either extremely brave or extremely stupid to be dating her," the vampire commented.

"Yeah," Xander rubbed the day-old stubble on his chin. "I can’t help but think that sometimes too."

* * *

A small town, the Brazil-Colombia border

Spike stalked soundlessly through Casinha’s narrow back streets, the scent of offal and desperation curdling his stomach. No wonder this small Brazillian town had turned to drugs as its main industry. It wasn’t as if there was a queue of legitimate businessmen lining up to invest in it. His nose wrinkled as he stepped over a child’s body crumpled in the road, turned, and crouched by it, hoping his ears had deceived him.

The coldness of the child’s skin to the touch confirmed his fears. "What’s up?"

Spike didn’t look up from his inspection of the male. In life the kid would have been maybe 5 or 6, although it was so thin it was hard to tell and his skin-colour indicated it had been of tribal rather than European descent. "He’s dead, luv," Spike finally replied to his questioner, one of the two Slayers that Kennedy had so ‘thoughtfully’ provided him as his escort. "He’s dead."

"Drugs," the Slayer whispered. "Damn drug dealers they deserve to die."

"Yeah," Spike gently closed the boy’s eyes and rose. "That they do," he agreed before striding off.

Except it hadn’t been drugs that had killed the boy but poverty and malnutrition.

Just another reminder of the world’s cruelty.

* * *

"A half a billion dollars," a tall, reedy man with a hooked nose and slightly crazy eyes dressed in grey flannel pants and a matching sports jacket nodded before hanging up his cell. "My broker says it’s just been deposited in my Liechtenstein account."

"And you will get the other payments every second month," assured a green, scaled-covered demon with three yellow eyes, a ridged forehead, a spiked tail, and a trio of jagged thorns hanging off each of its forearms.

"This much stuff would be difficult to move without your help," the tall man commented. "And I really can’t see why you’re willing to do this."

"My organisation’s motives are their own affair," the demon reproved. "You’re making more than enough money, be happy with that."

"Hey, not arguing," the thin man raised his hands. "Just want you to be sure this is what you wanna do, don’t want you changing your minds or nothing. Gotta say, you guys are quite freaky first time out. But I get you’re just businessmen, just like everyone else."

"Quite so."

"Where is that vampire friend of yours?" Kennedy hissed as they watched from the roof’s skylight. The businessman and his three sub-machine gun-toting human guards and four demons. There were four Slayers and Spike, if the vampire could be trusted to deal with the humans, then the demons should be no problem.

If Spike could be trusted.

Willow glared at her, they’d been constantly arguing ever since Spike had arrived. "He’ll be here-." Suddenly the warehouse’s doors crashed open and the peroxide blonde strutted in. "Told you!"

* * *

"Right lads!" Spike stared unabashed at the three human guards as they levelled their guns at him. "What bollocks is this then, prayer meeting?"

"Hold your fire," growled the Turpis, his less than friendly eyes falling on him. "He’s a demon." The lead Turpis turned to face him. "Leave here vampire, these humans are under my protection."

"That’s meant to mean sommat is it?" He started to stalk across the floor, careful to put the demons in-between him and the humans. "Who the bloody hell do you think you are?"

"I am Telka, chieftain of the Deathwalker Clan!" the Turpis thundered.

"Really?" Spike stopped and faked an impressed look before stepping towards him. "I’ve met some celebs in my time, Angelus, an Old One, a hell god, even the First," he smiled at the shocked mutters. "Never heard of you before though."

Before the demon had chance to react he’d leapt over his head and landed in the middle of the human gunmen. His right elbow shot out, crunching nose bone. Behind him he could hear his two Slayer escorts charging in, above he picked up the sound of Ken and her fellow Slayer leaping through the skylight.

Snatching hold of the injured human as he fell forwards, blood pumping from his shattered nose, Spike threw him on top of two of the other gunmen. He crossed crossing the space separating him from the last gunman in a blur. Snatching a hold of the man’s gun, he shoved its muzzle up to beneath the man’s chin even as the man instinctively squeezed the trigger.

The man screamed as he blew his face off, his blood showering Spike. By now fully vamped out, Spike leapt over to the three stumbling to their feet gunmen, grabbed two of them by the scruff of their necks, and slammed their heads together. Their skulls collided with a wholly satisfying crunch, and the two were unconscious before they hit the ground.

Spike smiled as he heard the last conscious hitman squeeze his trigger. Leaping into the air, he performed a back somersault to land behind the thug, grab his wildly swinging ponytail and fling him headfirst into a nail jutting out of the wall. The man’s weapon fell from his lifeless hands only to be caught by Spike as he leapt backwards to avoid the businessman’s attempts at pumping automatic rounds into him. Hitting the ground on his side, Spike sent round after round into the man, dropping his bloody corpse.

Leaping up, he saw the Slayers had kept their end of the bargain. Demon body parts lay strewn everywhere. Spike nodded smugly, no drug deal tonight. "That was a right ruckus, where are we hitting next?"

* * *

Munich

"Miserere. Solitudinem. Torvus. Tristis."

"What are they chanting?"

Connor didn’t shift his gaze from the terrible scene in front of him even as he answered Rona’s whispered question. A dozen kids aged between 5 and 10 laid bound and gagged on the floor surrounding a blood-stained altar while a dozen grey-cowled figures circled around them, waving incense candles and chanting. "It’s latin," he replied. "What are they doing?"

"The kids are all latent empaths," Vi explained in a hiss. "Through their victims’ powers and the spell they’re casting, all the pain their parents will feel at their death will be magnified and spread through the entire city, crippling it."

"Nice," Connor hefted his sword, waiting until he saw Wood move into position at the opposite entrance to the darkened basement. "But we’re not going to let that happen are we?" He was answered by his companions simultaneously drawing their swords. "Remember, Wood and his team are grabbing the kids, we’re-."

"On slice and dice duty," whispered Vi.

"Yeah!" Connor leapt from cover and charged the demonic gathering.

The demons stopped and turned towards him but too late to save the first from a decapitating slash. Ignoring the blood splattering him, he moved onto the second, leaning away from an attempted claw-slash to head butt his opponent in the face. His opponent stumbled backwards, but to take a step backwards against the Destroyer was to step into death. His sword slashed out, taking another head.

Hearing another demon charging him from his left, he leapt into the air, thrusting out with his foot to smash a kick into the demon’s throat. The cowled demon hit the ground on its knees, before it had chance to rise his sword had slashed down.

"Number three," he muttered as he dropped into a crouch, a demon’s claws tearing through the dank air above. Before the demon had chance to pull his arm back he’d straightened and thrust his blade through the demon’s eye.

Hearing another one charging him from behind, he realised he wouldn’t have time to pull his sword out of the thrashing demon at his feet, so he leapt into a backwards somersault over his would-be assailant’s head. Landing behind the surprised demon he took a hold of its head and twisted, shattering its neck. Releasing his grip, he turned to face his companions. He was pleased to see neither of them had been injured and that Wood and the other Slayers had successfully made off with the captive children. "So where’s next?" He paused as he registered his companions’ slightly queasy expressions. "You didn’t think I got the name ‘Destroyer’ because of my cross-stitching did you?"

* * *

Hell

"Our losses in this war have so far been most unsatisfactory," Satan hid a smile at his underlings’ shudder at his disapproval. "I think it’s time we struck back."

"At the Council itself?" queried one of his subordinates.

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

"Who then great one?"

"Their allies."

Return To Heroes Never Just Fade Away