"What I don’t get is if Wolfram &Hart were all so all fired powerful how did Ripper and his gang manage to take them over?"

"Ripper took a leaf out of Hitler’s play-book. Unsurprising when you consider he was a historian," Xander nodded at the buxom Bostonian’s query. "Once he’d cowed vampires throughout the world, Ripper used the information Lillah had given him to target W&H offices across the globes, fourteen operations in six continents in all, and attack them all in one night. W&H employees died in their thousands, the law firm tried to continue and strike back, but Ripper was remorseless, and his forces vastly out-numbered W&H’s. Soon people were just too frightened to take W&H jobs and the law firm was forced off dimension."

"Right." After a second the sultry Slayer nodded, her dark eyes serious. "Know anything about this Winters?"

"He runs San Diego, San Francisco, Santa Monica, and Los Angeles for Ripper. He’s probably the most powerful vampire on this continent outside of the inner circle." Xander paused. "Because Winters is the nearest underlord it’s my guess that he’s the one who supplied the bodies to replace those who escaped when we hit the supply convoy two weeks ago."

"Yeah, great," Faith shot him a frustrated look. "I meant Winters’ origin, how old he is, that sorta thing. I like to know a little about the Master Vampires I’m huntin’."

"Perhaps I can help," Wesley spoke up as they crouched in the shadows of a garage across the road from the gleaming skyscraper that had once been Wolfram & Hart’s LA base. The Englishman pushed his glasses up his nose before continuing. "My last year thesis was ‘Notable North American Vampires’." Faith yawned theatrically. "Thank you, Ms. Lehane." The Watcher sniffed. "I assume you don’t want this information after all?"

"Ah jeez," Faith waved a nonchalant hand at the Englishman. "Panties, unbunch ‘em. Spill the beans, English."

Wesley shot the Slayer a withering look that bounced off the beautiful brunette’s rhino hide. "Winters is believed to be one of the very earliest railroad barons." Xander joined the curvy Bostonian in staring blankly at the Watcher. "After the American Civil War, Russell Winters was one of the men who championed the spread of railroads across the states. He was sired by a former riverboat gambler called Louis Savate, a not particularly notable blood-sucker. As befits his origins, the vampire Russell Winters has always been more of an organiser and entrepreneur rather than a fighter."

"Good to know," Faith looked from Wes to him. "What’s the 411 on Winters anyhow?"

"Over the last week Gunn, Scott, Percy, Owen, and Larry have been running a rolling surveillance on him. He rarely leaves the offices," Wes and Faith looked towards the imposing office block, "and when he does he’s always in an armoured car and with an armed escort."

"Damn." Faith scowled. "We won’t have time to organise a hit unless we wait around for him outside."

"To do that would run the risk of being spotted," Wesley commented.

"Sorta pointing out the obvious there," Faith snarked before sobering. "Any weak points in the building?"

After a second Xander shook his head. "The front and rear entrances are heavily guarded. The only possible weak point is through the outer entrance to the parking lot. Even then, its inner entrance is heavily guarded. And even if by some miracle we managed to get into the building, we’d have to fight our way through twenty floors to get to Winters."

There was a long pause then Wesley spoke. "How about roof access?"

"You got wings, Wes?" Faith half-laughed. "’Cause I know I ain’t Spiderman." The brunette pouted thoughtfully. "They use Wanna-Bes in there?"

"Yeah," Xander nodded. Then his mouth dropped open as he belatedly realised just what the Slayer was hinting at. "Oh no," he shook his head. "You can’t be serious."

"What?" Wes’ face took on a look of horrified realisation. "Oh no, I forbid it!"

"Forbid it?" Xander groaned at the mulish look on the Slayer’s face. Once again, Wes had managed to put both feet squarely in it. "Last time I checked you don’t own me." The beautiful brunette looked towards him. "Anywhere you can scare up a suit for me?"

"Faith!" Wesley stepped between him and the Slayer, grabbing her by her arms. Which made the Englishman either a lot braver or a lot stupider than he thought. "I’m sorry, I merely wished to advise you against a course of action that could lead you into a situation that even your skills couldn’t handle."

The Bostonian’s expressive eyes softened slightly. "I made a promise, remember?"

"Faith," Wesley barely breathed. "Bel wouldn’t expect you to risk your life in such a reckless fashion."

"Yeah," the Slayer’s husky voice caught before steadying. "But she ain’t here anymore."

Xander looked from each of his companions in turn, not at all sure what the duo were talking about and not much caring. "Are we doing this or not?"

"We’re doing it," Faith resolutely replied.

* * *

"That damn girl!" Wesley slammed his hotel room door. His temper bubbled over and then ignited, his foot kicking a hole in the wall. Next went the bedside table, a single shove toppling it over. Snatching up the lamp that had fallen off the table, he flung it at the painting hanging over the bed, picture glass and lamp shattering on impact.

And just as suddenly his rage was gone. Wesley slumped down on the side of his bed, head in hands. Why wouldn’t Faith listen? Why wouldn’t she believe that he wanted nothing more than to look after her, to be her friend? Why wouldn’t she believe that he had only his best interests in mind?

He wished he could blame it on his gender, that the Slayer couldn’t trust him because of her torrid past, but while that doubtless contributed to their tumultuous relationship, he had to bear the lion’s share of the blame. His previous condescending behaviour and cold attitude had only caused the already wary child to build further walls of mistrust.

He was a failure as a Watcher, just as his father had predicted.

Wesley looked up at a soft knock at the door. "Wes, can I come in?" When he didn’t answer, too lost in his mood to bother, the door swung tentatively open. "Wow," Amy looked left and right before stepping through. "My guess is your room deposit is gone."

"Hello Miss Madison," Wesley looked around the devastated room and to the room’s solitary chair. "Please, take a seat."

"Thanks," Amy looked around as she sat down. "Did Motley Crue have a reunion and no-body bother to tell their no. 1 fan?" Wesley stared blankly at the young witch. "Pop culture reference, never mind." The Sunnydale High graduate stared at him. "I take it your meeting with Faith didn’t go well?"

"Didn’t go well?" Even to his own ears, Wesley’s laughed sounded off-note, filled with bitterness and hysteria. "That stupid, foolish girl has so little regard, puts so little value on her life that she eagerly rushed into any insane adventure!"

"And yet she’s still here," Amy pointed out.

"True enough." Wesley managed a weak smile. "But you didn’t come here to talk about Faith."

"It’s not important-."

"Nonsense my dear," Wesley shook his head. "I’m sure you had something fascinating to say, you always have." Wesley grinned slightly. "And to be honest, I’d be appreciative of something to take my mind off that blasted insubordinate Slayer."

"Okay," Amy took a breath. "Like I told you ever since I joined the Nightstalkers I’ve been interested in vampire hunters. Both for the weapons ideas for Jonathan and tactics for Xander." The witch’s cheeks flushed. "And for my own interest."

"Learning is its own reward," Wesley commented.

"Yeah," Amy nodded. "Anyway I used Giles’ books, websites, and books I picked up off the internet. I researched all the classics – Bel-Marduk of Babylon, Atum-Ra of Egypt, Arjuna of India, Liu Weng of China, Taira no Kiyomori of Japan, Apellon Melan of Greece, and Sigfried and Jan Olsen of Norway. But the one name I kept returning to was Angelus’ arch-enemy-."

"Daniel Holtz," Wesley smiled as his friend’s shocked look. "He’s required reading for apprentice Watchers. He’s killed close to four hundred vampires before his mysterious disappearance, more than any non-powered human in verifiable history. He must have been a terrifying fellow."

"And his maybe not so mysterious disappearance." Amy smiled at his raised eyebrow. "I cross-referenced my work on Holtz with prophecies."

"You have been a busy girl," Wesley commented.

"I don’t date much," Amy smiled.

"I can’t imagine why." Wesley chuckled when his remark was met by the wicca’s blush. "Please continue."

"I came across a prophecy that said the son of the vampire with a soul would kill a time-travelling demon by the name of Sarjhan." Amy raised a hand as his mouth opened. "Please, let me finish." Wesley reluctantly closed his mouth, leaving unspoken his protestations that no vampire could have a child. "Maybe, just maybe this Sarjhan found Holtz and stole him from the timeline to use against Angel."

"But Angel lost his soul." This time Wesley did point out the obvious.

"I know," Amy conceded with a nod. "But maybe Holtz was pulled from time as an insurance policy. I’ve been reading about time, and maybe time isn’t a straight line, maybe it’s a road with forks in it that cause possible alternate realities. Maybe Angelus was never cursed? Maybe Angel never lost his soul? Maybe Giles was never turned or Buffy Called? Maybe the would-be mother died before she even met Angel? Maybe Holtz is Sarjhan’s fallback position if all his other schemes to alter the timeline failed?"

"All this conjecture is very fascinating." In truth, Wesley’s head had begun to throb. "But how does this help us?"

"If I’m right," Amy licked her lips, "I think I can find and bring Holtz here."

* * *

"James, Elizabeth," Ripper flashed his politician’s smile as the two vampires entered her domain. "A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"And yours," James replied. "It was an honour to be summonsed into the service of the world’s most brilliant vampire. Almost as much of an honour as it was to be blessed by the love of fair Elizabeth." James beamed. "Is she not the most beautiful creature in creation?"

"Extraordinarily beautiful." Ripper felt his smile grow strained. Angelus had told him of their simpering, but to hear it was sickening. Love was a weakness of the lesser beings, not them. Unfortunately he had need of powerful vampire, and both demons were close to three centuries old.

His attention was thankfully diverted when the club’s double-doors crashed open and Angelus and Penn entered, dragging a limp body behind them. Ripper strode over to inspect the captive, a handsome man of medium height with shoulder-length black hair and an athletic, sinewy build. "And who," he looked towards Angelus, "might our guest be?"

Angelus smirked. "This is the man I told you about, Everett Blaine, the Nightstalkers’ trainer."

"Oh really?" Ripper beamed. "So pleased," he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled the man’s head to one side, "to meet you." He sunk his fangs into the man’s throat.

He’d barely finished feeding on turning the martial artist when the nightclub’s doors once again crashed open. "Well ain’t this a party!"

Ripper managed to hide his disdain for the thuggish, heavy-browed man before him. "Lyle Gorch?"

"That I am, sir. Here are my cousins, Death’s Bastards." Lyle look over his shoulder. "Jed, Zeke, Bud, Wade, Kurt, Josh, get your behinds in here." Six similar-looking brutes trooped in. "Girl! Get that sweet tush in, ya ain’t shy so don’t act it!"

"Sure, Lyle." A tall, curvy girl slinked in, drawing appreciative leers from all the male and plenty of the female vampires. The beauty’s honey-blonde hair cascaded down from under her grey Stetson to rest on the shoulders of her figure-hugging black and white checked shirt. The shirt’s top three buttons were unfastened, uncovering plenty of deep, eye-catching cleavage and was tied off at the bottom revealing inches of taut belly. The young woman’s outfit was completed by a pair of knee-length cowboy boots and pair of figure-hugging denim hot-pants.

"Why," Ripper gave the beauty an appreciative look. "Who is this delightful creature?"

"This is my new childe," Lyle smirked. "I picked her up in New Mexico, I call her Death’s Bitch, but her name’s Tara Maclay."

Faith forced his face into an inscrutable mask as she entered the building’s well-lit lobby. She knew she looked the bomb, even with her normally free-flowing locks tied up in a bun, her nervous eyes hidden behind a pair of tinted glasses, and her usual biker wear exchanged for a pair of high heels, short black skirt, and matching jacket over a cream white blouse.

She was gambling on so many factors she could hardly keep count. First she was gambling that security was lax on account the vamps would figure you’d have to be dog-shit loco to try and break into the place. Second that no-one recognised her. Third, that despite and because of her looks, none of the demons would dare touch her, figuring she must be the property of Winters. Fourth, that when and if she got to Winters’ office she was able to find something to use as a weapon against him. Fifth, that she got out without anyone raising the alarm.

All in all, she was beginning to think she was nuts for even trying this.

"Too late to change my mind now." Faith as she strode into the brightly-lit, mirror-walled elevator, grateful that it was empty.

Her heart fell when a figure stepped into the elevator just about as its gleaming doors were about slide shut. The vampire, a small, rat-faced beady-eyed demon, leered at her. "Hi babe, haven’t see you around here before, I know ‘cause I’d have noticed you."

Faith tensed as the vampire neared. Her gaze moved to the camera in the upper right corner. "Yeah," she quickly remembered her cover-story. "Last week I was livin’ on the street, then Mr. Winters saw me and hired for his personal staff."

"Lucky Mr. Winters," the vampire’s leer widened. "Mr. Winters’ security is very important to us. I’ll have to check you for weapons."

Faith gritted her teeth as the vampire approached. Telling herself she’d endured far worse, she put up with the vampire’s clammy hands on her, stroking, squeezing, and groping. But if he showed her just an inch of fang, camera or not, he was dust.

The demon didn’t pull away until the doors opened. "No weapons," the vampire smirked. "Just a body that could cause whiplash." The vampire slapped her behind. "The boss gets all the prizes."

Cheeks flushed, Faith hurriedly straightened her clothes before climbing out of the elevator and heading down the corridor, following the directions Lillah had given them. The corridors were plushly decorated with a thick sky blue carpet, minimally furnished reception areas, and wood panelled walls decorated with abstract paintings.

Faith swallowed as she reached a door with a brass plaque with ‘Mr. Winters’ inscribed on it. After a second she raised her hand to knock, then shook her head before opening the door.

The demon looked up from behind his tidy desk, eyes irritated. "Doesn’t anyone knock in this day and-." The vampire’s expression changed from irritation to pleasure. "But of course, you don’t need to knock. Did personnel send you up?"

Faith forced a meek nod. "Yes, Mr. Winters."

"Excellent, I’ll have to send them a commendation. Please," the demon gestured to the empty seat opposite him, "sit down."

"Sure." Faith smiled seductively as she slinked across the office, eyes alighting on the steel letter opener on the desk. As she’d hoped Winters had unwittingly supplied the very weapon she’d use to kill him. Faith leaned over the desk, entrancing the man with her cleavage. Then she scooped up the letter opener and slashed it across the demon’s throat. There was a half-second of shocked realisation in his eyes and then he burst into dust.

Faith stared down at the dust settling on the demon’s leather-upholstered chair. She stiffened at the sound of the office door opening behind her. Twisting around, she saw a willowy blonde stood in the doorway. "Is Mr. Winters not around?"

"No." Faith schooled her face into a puzzled expression. "Sorry. I’ve just brought him a load of contracts to sign from Personnel, but no joy." Faith slide past the blonde and strode out. Now all she had to do was get out.

* * *

Virginia Bryce inspected the couple sat opposite. The female of the couple was pretty enough but it was the male who intrigued her. English, well-educated, and eminently knowledgeable about the world’s shadowy under-belly. She’d have bet her considerable fortune that he was a Watcher. However his companion couldn’t be the Slayer, she didn’t match the description in anything except age and gender.

She was more than a little tempted by the standing reward Ripper had offered for the capture of any Watcher. But even more enticed by the mystery just what had brought the Watcher here, to the very edge of Ripper’s stronghold. "Mr. Richard Turpin, your credentials seem very impressive. However you haven’t told me just why you require our services."

Instead of answering, the Englishman looked around her office. "A most impressive place you have here. And yet you’re so young." Mr. Turpin directed his gaze back at her. "But then your father wasn’t expecting to lose the reins of power quite so suddenly."

"If I hadn’t killed him he’d have sacrificed -." Virginia’s eyes narrowed. "Who the hell are you?"

The Englishman’s smile failed to reach his eyes. "I’m sorry, my name’s Wesley Whyndham-Pryce and my companion is," the man was interrupted by the door crashing open and a group of youths striding inside, "Amy Madison, a Wicca who has been holding down your mystical defences ever since you lowered them to let us in."

Virginia scowled impotently. "Do you know who I am?" she seethed.

"I think," the Englishman smiled politely, "I’ve already established that we do. And this gentleman," Wesley pointed towards a pepper-grey haired powerfully-built man leading the interlopers, "is Xander Harris."

Virginia felt the world slow and the colour drain from her face at the mention of the world’s most feared resistance leader. "W….what do you want?" she stuttered.

"You’re not a witch, but I know your father spent decades collecting every conceivable magical artefact," Amy said. "And I know he bought a Magica Poder Petros in the early nineties. We want it."

"W…what for?" she asked.

"That’s not important." Xander smiled coldly. "Is it?"

* * *

"Are you okay?" Jonathan opened the door as his girl-friend approached his car.

"Five by five," Faith replied as she climbed into the car. His girl-friend snorted as he looked at her legs when her skirt shifted up as she sat down. Faith ruffled her hair. "Look I’ll keep the outfit if ya like, just drive, hon."

* * *

"’Kay," Faith stared at the strangely pulsing yellow globe sat in the centre of the resistance group’s lounge table, their of-course day-light journey back to Sunnydale completed just minutes ago, "you’ve got my attention. What the hell is this thing?"

"In its simplest terms, it’s a magical amplifier," Amy replied. Faith stared bluntly at the witch. That was simple? "A witch or wizard casting a spell can use this to temporarily increase their power by siphoning power off from a number of lesser-power mages. In this case," Amy smiled apologetically, "Wesley, Michael, and Jonathan."

"And this is to drag this Holtz jabroni through time?" Amy nodded at her query. "’Kay, but how will you know where to find him?"

"I already know around when Holtz was taken. Somewhere in the 1770s-."

"So really specific then," Xander uttered the comment a second before she could.

"I’m not a Time-Lord, Xander," Amy half-smiled then shrugged. "I’ll start in ’73, after his last recorded encounter with Darla and Angelus, and work from there. Then, when I find a trace of Sarjhan’s essence."

"Whoa!" Faith interrupted. "Run that past me again?"

"Every demon has an essence, an unique smell if you want." Faith’s brow furrowed and her mouth opened. "Only magic-users can sense them," Amy hurriedly added before continuing her explanation. "And find when he took Holtz. I’ll follow his trail, take Holtz and bring him here."

Faith’s head began to ache. ""’Kay, but ain’t Sarjhan likely to be a little, ya know pissed, at having Holtz taken?"

After a second Amy nodded. "Yes, but he’s incorporeal in his current state, so his powers are limited. As long as I avoid a direct confrontation, I should be okay."

"Incorporeal?" Faith asked.

"Non-solid," Wesley supplied. Faith stared at her Watcher, seeking further clarification. "Like a ghost." Faith nodded in understanding. "But what about this Magic-Amplifier? Is it dangerous to use?" Wesley and Amy exchanged troubled glances. "Talk to me?"

"It’s not dangerous for those supplying the power," Amy eventually replied. "At worst, the could be burnt out, unable to access magic. But for the person using the power," Amy’s face tightened, "if they lose control, the backlash from the combined power could tear them apart."

Risky. Faith looked around the room. Realising everyone was looking at her, she shrugged. "If you think this Holtz is worth it, do it."

* * *

"It burns! Ahhhhhhh! It burns!"

Ripper chuckled as he lay on his bed, his new companion lying in his arms, her hands idly stroking him as he responded in kind. Joy Joy on the other hand was hanging upside down from the ceiling, her body welted and bruised from Tara’s enthused ministrations, tears streaking the dead Slayer’s face. "You’re a rare expert," he complimented the vampire, " a real artist."

The naked beauty giggled and fluttered her long eyelashes. "Anything to please the mighty Ripper."

Ripper playfully slapped the New Mexican’s behind. "You pleased me four times. You’re a girl of rare talents"

Tara smiled bitterly . "You wouldn’t have said that if you’d met my pre-turning self. What a meek pathetic mouse I was!"

"Lyle said you were a runaway," Ripper commented for want of something to say.

His companion’s nose wrinkled disdainfully. "I was a runaway alright, a runaway from life, my magic, my family, everything." Tara giggled. "But I taught my sweet father the error of his ways."

"Oh really?" Ripper rolled over to face the curvy beauty and began kissing her neck, Joy Joy’s sobs ringing like music in his ears. "Do tell?"

Amy took a calming breath, the Amplifier in her clammy palms as she sat cross-legged in the centre of a triangle drawn in chalk, Jonathan, Wesley, and Michael sat at its points. Apart from them, the room was empty, yet despite that the room’s air seemed sparse, as if it was crammed full of people, tension thickening it.

Amy took another breath. "No body will think the less of you if you back out."

Amy smiled at Wesley’s concern. His comment however well-meant was incorrect. She’d feel less of her. "Holtz is a renowned demon hunter, we need him." She placed the amplifier between her legs and her hands on her knees. And then she began to chant, the arcane words echoing in the hushed room.

The very moment she finished the enchantment, Amy sensed something above her. Looking up, she saw a greyish white tornado hovering over her head, lightning crackling inside it. And then she felt something pulling from inside her, being sucked into the tunnel. Her mouth opened in shock, but before she could scream, a great darkness enveloped her.

* * *

9^th November 1989. Berlin

Amy’s eyes widened as her vision cleared to find herself at a huge wall, men and women tearing it down with eager if amateur abandon from either side, armed men standing aside with bemused looks on their faces.

* * *

22^nd November 1963, Dallas

Amy’s ears throbbed as the crowd boomed out cheers to the passing cavalcade. And then a shot rang out and the man sat waving from one of the open-top cars fell back, blood exploding from his head.

* * *

6^th June 1944, France

Amy’s eyes filled with tears as she watched, a mixture of horror and pride filling her, her ears pounding to the sounds of gunfire and screaming men as a seemingly endless horde of khaki-wearing men struggled onto the beach, advancing fearlessly into a fearsomely relentless bombardment, no wave, of artillery fire.

* * *

7^th September 1901, China

Amy gasped as she watched the city drown in a mixture of chaos, blood, and fire. Fires blazed through the city, buildings falling as Orientals brawled with Occidentals.

* * *

19^th November 1863, Pennsylvania

Amy’s eyes brimmed with pride as she stood in a cold cemetery and watched a lantern-jawed, bearded man talk of freedom and equality, making the speech that would in essence start the civil rights movement.

* * *

As she watched history’s momentous events unfold, Amy gradually realised that she was travelling in Sarjhan’s footsteps in a way she’d never dreamed, reliving humanity’s momentous triumphs and dreadful defeats. It was a journey that alternatively exhilarated and terrified, but ultimately exhausted her.

Finally the voyage through time came to an end in a dark, forbidding cellar, occupied by a statue. A strangely familiar statue. "Daniel Holtz," she whispered, heart tightening. Yes, she’d finally achieved her goal. But this was one of the most notorious demon-hunters of all time, a man of legendary ruthlessness.

Quelling her terror with an effort, she muttered the final words of the spell, those that completed it.

For a second there was nothing, Amy stared with disappointment at the statue. Then, a slight crack at top that rapidly spread until the statue looked like an earthquake’s aftermath. And then it exploded, rock flying everywhere, Amy screaming instinctively even though she was incorporeal.

The man was as terrifying in appearance as his reputation. Holtz was a medium-height man with a lithe muscularity that bristled with ferocious energy, the straggly hair and beard failed to hide a hard-featured face that seemed to be carved from granite far harder than the rock that had encased him, while his grey eyes burnt with implacable fire. "Who are you witch?"

The man’s hoarse voice chilled her marrow, but she managed to keep her voice steady as she replied. "I am someone who can take you to a time where you’re needed, were Angelus," the man’s shoulders stiffened, "is a great power, and were I am a member of the few who continue to resist him and his master."

The man’s eyes burnt into her, judging every deed she’d ever done. "Very well," he growled. "Let’s go."

* * *

"Hey!" Frederick’s eyes widened when he opened the door to find their sensei stood on the doorstep. He bowed respectfully. "Sensei, please come in."

"Thanks!" Frederick gasped as his tutor’s eyes flashed yellow, his mouth opened in a scream as the vampire lunged towards him, his hand clenching around his throat and squeezing.

* * *

"Did you hear the screams?" Cordelia looked around.

Xander stiffened as he waited with the others outside of the room Amy was casting her spell in. "Yeah," Xander glanced to Larry. "Lar, go get Faith, she’s in the dojo training. The rest of you, guard this room."

Xander swallowed as he charged upstairs, heart pounding as he wondered just what horrors awaited him. Xander’s heart wrenched as he entered the hallway, recognising the corpses littering the hallway as Joy, Freddy, and Devon, and their murderer as a now vampire Everett Blaine. Leaping forward, he attempted a kick to the small of the back that his rival spun away from before catching him with a spinning backfist to the back of the neck that caused pain to explode in his head.

"Xander, Xander," Everett taunted. "You didn’t seriously think you could take me on?"

"Don’t know unless you try," Xander shook his head clear before perfectly executing a thrust kick.

Perfect except against a vampire with Blaine’s skills and memories as well as his newly acquired strength and speed upgrades. "Ahhh!" Xander grunted as the demon grabbed his outstretched leg at the ankle while simultaneously sweeping his grounded foot off the floor. "Ugggh." Xander grunted as he fell to the ground, his shoulder taking out a hallway table on the way down. His eyes widened as he saw a foot coming down at him and rolled away, kicking up as he did so.

Upon reaching his feet, he was rocked by a left and right combo that would have taken his head off if he hadn’t managed to slightly pull away from them. Then a follow-up leaping kick sent him crashing into the wall, head bouncing off the unforgiving concrete as he slid to the floor. Xander twisted away from a kick to the face, his rival’s foot bouncing off the wall as Xander surged up and crashed shoulder-first into the demon. "Oooh," he groaned as the demon twisted with the impact, using the momentum to fling him off and into the opposite wall. Dazed, he nevertheless managed to duck a right to the face.

But was completely unprepared to twist away from the palm strike that smashed into his chest. Lungs heaving and legs buckling, he slid down the wall, tears blurring his eyes as he struggled for every breath he was sure would be his last.

"Nice moves, now do ya wanna try for the majors?"

* * *

Wesley’s eyes sprang open, the strength returning to his body as Amy shuddered before him. He gasped as a body materialised beside the young witch. "Oh my god."

"I’ll thank you," growled the legendary demon hunter, "not to take the lord’s name in vain."

Wesley’s lips tugged into a smile as he heard Jonathan’s mutter beside him. "Oh him and Faith are just going to be best buds."

* * *

The vampire had barely begun to turn to face her when Faith was on it, a whirlwind of dark hair and darker eyes, hitting it with a blurring flurry of blows. Then she grunted as a fist crashed through her tornado to snap her head back. Biting down the pain, she ducked under a thrust kick to the face, looping an arm around the leg and yanking up.

The demon yelped something indistinct as it fell to the ground, hitting the ground with a thud. Faith raced forward, trying for a stomp that the demon rolled away from before kicking up and connecting with her spandexed-ass, the blow knocking her forward.

And probably leavin’ a real embarrasin’ bruise that Jonathan would have to kiss better.

A snarl parting her lips, Faith spun to face the vampire and barely managed to duck a spinning backfist. Faith leapt forward, meaning to tackle the vamp around the waist only to get a gasp-inducing knee to the chest instead. Stunned, she weaved towards the demon.

And dropped onto her back as it leapt at her, her feet cannoning into its torso, her body reverberating with the impact as the demon flew across the hall to crash into the far wall. Shaking off her pain, Faith leapt up and raced over to the demon, knocking it back down with a hard uppercut before snatching up a broken table leg and driving it through its chest.

"Faith! Faith! Faith!" Faith turned at Amy’s shriek. "We did it! We got Holtz!"

"Who are you?" Holtz snapped as his eyes cleared and he found himself in a strangely designed room surrounded by several youngsters. In a second he was by the group’s apparent leader, a bespectacled man in his mid-thirties, his hand grabbing the man around the throat. "Sahjhan? Where is he?"

The man gurgled and tried yank his hand off even as the room’s youths lunged at him. Finally they managed to drag him away from the gasping man. A pair of elbows put the two weaklings down and he stared back towards the man lent against the wall. "Wesley Whyndhm-Pryce of The Watchers’ Council," the man wheezed.

That brought Holtz up short. This ninny was a Watcher? My, how that once fine group had fallen since-. His brow creased as another thought occurred. "The year? What is the year?" he growled.

The man started at his gruff tone, pathetic really. "It is the year of our lord, two thousand one. You’re in America."

"America," he whispered, legs almost giving way under him with the shock. The grand-children of every-one he’d ever known would all be long dead by now. His eyes zeroed in on the Watcher. "The New World? Why am I here?"

"I…I must say it’s a great honour to meet you, your accomplishments and methodologies were taught at The Academy." The Watcher straightened up, hand rubbing at his throat. Holtz stared impatiently at his fellow countryman. "We’re here, that is in the state of California because my Slayer is hunting Angelus."

"Angelus?" Fire blazed through Holtz’s veins. "That murdering bastard is here?"

"Yes," the Watcher started to speak but he didn’t bother to continue listening to the whimpering fool’s blatherings, instead striding out in search of the Slayer. One could only hope she had more mettle than her Watcher.

* * *

"Angelus!" James beamed at him as he approached James and Elizabeth, the pair of vampires dressed in of course matching denim jeans and shirts. "It is a bloody pleasure to see you and no mistake!"

"And you," Angelus nodded before kissing Elizabeth’s proffered hand. He’d have to play up to the duo if he wanted them to aid him in his planned overthrow of Ripper.

"Charmed," purred the blonde.

"And Darla," James looked around, "where is the second loveliest vampire in all creation?"

"Dust," Angelus snarled. "A Slayer got her." He white-washed over his part in his sire’s death, the thought just making him want to grab the nearest blonde and spend the night teaching the human the meaning of pain. He hadn’t even gotten the satisfaction of Buffy’s death to soften the blow, Ripper had sadistically ensured he was never involved in the Slayer’s torturing or even saw her after her capture.

"Got Darla!" James’ blue eyes widened before looking towards Elizabeth. "Oh Angelus, I can only imagine your pain," the vampire bleated. "To be without the one that makes your existence worthwhile must be-."

"Heart-breaking!" Elizabeth continued. "Your pain must inspire sonnets, move statues to tears!"

"I know mine would!" James finished. "Should I-, no," the twit shook his head. "I can’t even say the words."

"My pillow’s wet every night." Angelus fought back a groan. The two vampires stared at him, mouths agape. "From crying, not from -, never mind," he shook his head wearily. At the time he’d thought the greatest danger about having this conversation would have been from someone over-hearing and reporting back to Ripper, but he realised he’d been mistaken, he was in far greater danger of staking himself to stop himself from having to listen to the two lovers’ insipid drivel.

* * *

Holtz strode impatiently through the house’s corridors, impatient to finally have his revenge on Angelus. He stopped as he entered the hallway to find a coal-eyed hussy dressed in lewdly tight leathers, her choice of clothing as unbecoming and unladylike as her apparent manner. Yet despite all that, she had a certain grace that identified her as something more than merely human.

"A tavern strumpet?" he sniffed. "In my time, Slayers were mighty warriors, women worthy of respect. In this time they’re nothing but slattern?"

The Slayer looked around, Romany eyes looking confused. "Slattern? What the hell’s a slattern?"

"Oh please," the Watcher behind him muttered, "no-body tell her. The blood will be hell to get out of the carpet."

"Oh I know that one from Literature" chirped up a painted blonde who looked like another tavern wench, "of course no one expects you to have read a book, Faith. He’s calling you a whore."

"Huh." Holtz felt a chill run through him as the beauty’s black eyes turned to ice. "How ‘bout yaw tell me who yaw are and why I shouldn’t be using your head as a punch bag." Holtz’s mouth opened. "Oops, too late." Holtz grunted as the girl’s backhand to the face drove him to his knees. The brunette turned from him to the blonde. "Want to call me a whore yourself, Harm?"

Holtz rose and glared at the Slayer, the impudent bitch, not knowing her natural place in the order of things. He wiped away the blood trickling out of the side of his mouth. "I am Daniel Holtz, vampire hunter."

"Huh," the Slayer seemed unimpressed. "After all the shit I’d heard, I’d thought you’d be taller."

"A lady does not use such language," he scolded.

"I thought we’d established I ain’t a lady." The brown-eyed beauty’s full lips quirked up into a smirk. "’Sides, times have changed, oldster. Women even have the vote now." The midnight-tressed temptress’ curved lips rearranged themselves in a pout. "Not that I’ve actually ever, well yaw get the point."

"Times may have changed," Holtz sniffed as he looked around the carnage, glancing briefly at the corpses. "But they have not changed so much that I would expect a vampire hunter to tamely allow a stranger into their house after dusk." He sniffed again. "An ineffectual Watcher, a slovenly Slayer, and amateurish vampire hunters, no wonder you need help."

"Hey!" snapped a battered-looking youth with streaked-grey hair. "We made a mistake."

"In vampire-hunting your first mistake is most often your last," Holtz retorted before shaking his head. "Ready yourselves, the night is wasting, we may not have a real Watcher," the one called Wesley winced at that, "or a properly-trained Slayer but we fight nevertheless." The girl growled, whatever her faults she had at least spirit.

"Who put you in charge?" the battered boy demanded.

"Your lack of leadership did," he retorted. "Gather your weapons; we leave in quarter of an hour. You," he impaled the Watcher with a steely glare, "tell me more of your world."

* * *

"Ah," Ripper forced a grin as Lyle Gorch entered his inner sanctum, "Lyle, good to see you." Ripper leaned into the vampires and bit her milky neck, tasting her cold blood. The turned witch wriggled in erotic, blissful delight. "I must compliment you on your childe, she really is exquisite."

"Thank you, Ripper." Lyle’s eyes burnt as he glanced from Ripper to Tara and back again. Despite his anger the bulky-shouldered vampire was at least smart enough not to voice his irritation at Ripper usurping him as Tara’s master. Maybe Ripper wouldn’t have to kill him after all.

"I have the horses you requested, seven quite superb stallions."

Interest flickered in Lyle’s eyes. "Do you ride?"

"It was a hobby of my youth," Ripper airily replied. His human alter-ego had spent his childhoods on a Welsh farm his family had owned. There hadn’t been much to do but ride or muck-out pig shit. He’d chosen riding. "Get your men and ride out. If those meddlers patrol out after the surprise I sent them, I want you to finish them off!"

"Yes sir," the cowboy hesitated, eyes flickering towards Tara.

"Go," he smirked. "Don’t worry," he licked the moaning vampires’ neck, "I’ll take good care of Tara, and I think her fighting days are over."

"But not torturing," the unread New Mexican giggled.

"Of course not dear," he assured the vampire beauty. "A talent such as yours should be nurtured."

* * *

Faith pursed her full lips, worry creasing her beautiful features. "Maybe you should stay out of this one?" his girl-friend suggested, a rare tentative note in her husky voice.

"No," Jonathan for his part had to force an unconcerned note in his. "I should be there." For you, he silently added.

"No," Faith shook her head, brown eyes determined. "You’re tired after bringing the asshole," Faith’s eyes glittered briefly, "from his prison. You should stay-."

"A Slayer with a lover, demeaning herself like a common tavern harlot!" And just like that, Holtz appeared in the hallway, scorn in his dark eyes. "Where is the legendary Council discipline?"

Faith’s jaw clenched, her hair snapping as she spun to face the antiquated demon hunter. "Listen you son of a bit-."

"As I informed you," Wesley appeared by Holtz’s shoulder, "the Council has moved on from your days-."

"Moved on?" Holtz snorted. "Been overrun with weaklings and idiots more like!"

Wesley looked like he’d been punched in the gut, but to give him credit the Watcher tried. "Faith’s greater independence and ability to think for herself has helped her in situations where a more controlled Slayer might well have perish-."

"And yet," Holtz sniffed, "the world has fallen and Angelus lives."

"Hey!" Faith snapped. "That ain’t my fault! I wasn’t even Called when that shit went down!"

Holtz strode away, glancing at Xander’s group of Xander, Cordelia, Larry, Owen, and Harmony, the others staying behind as security. "Come," the centuries-old soldier snapped. "Let’s see if you match up to the lads I once led."

The group made their way out into Sunndyale’s darkened streets, the atmosphere even more grimly oppressive than normal, either because of their recent losses or because of the hard-faced angel of vengeance marching with them. Jonathan and Faith were at the head of their patrol, Holtz and Wesley hovering with a varying degrees of menace just behind and Xander and Cordelia at the rear, the others between them, their crossbows at ready in case-.

Suddenly Faith dropped to one knee, her hand reaching out to feel the road’s hard tarmac. "What the fuck?" his girl-friend’s brow furrowed. "I can feel the ground trembling, what the hell-." Suddenly Faith’s eyes widened. "Everyone! Get to cover now!"

Recognising the tell-tale sound of a cavalry charge, Holtz melted into the shadows. irritated but not particularly dismayed when his companions didn’t immediately follow suit. Undisciplined rabble.

* * *

Heart racing, Faith grabbed Jonno by the collar and threw him forward and over the nearest hedge. Shit, Faith realised her mouth was dry and heart hammering like had never done before, caring for people was wicked hard, maybe even harder than not havin’ anyone.

Even as that realisation hit, the lead riders burst into sight, the first of them an ugly as sin thickly-built roughneck dressed in a battered Stetson and brown suede jacket. Seeing the vampire’s hand coming up from inside his jacket, a gun in hand, Faith dropped into a crouch, leather-clad ass practically touching the cold tarmac, before bounding up, powering through her legs.

Faith flew through the air, body shuddering slightly as she landed on the horse, facing the surprised vampire, legs wrapping around him. "Hey!" Faith greeted as she drove her head into the demon’s face, the impact knocking his head back long enough for her to dart out a stake and drive it towards his heart. "Like your ride!"

Except the demon replied with a headbutt of his own, almost knocking her clean off the damn horse. Seeing the demon’s gun beginning to turn towards her, she drove her stake down and through his forearm. "Aaaaaaah!" the demon grunted as her stake tore through flesh, gun dropped to the ground. "You bitch!"

Faith grunted as the demon’s free fist crashed into the side of her head. Ignoring the bludgeoning blow, she released her hold on her stake and jammed her thumb deep into the demon’s eye, ignoring her slight queasiness at the way his eye squished and squelched under her onslaught. While the demon writhed in agony, she snatched out another stake and drove it into her adversary’s heart. "Fuck you, asshole!" she victoriously shouted.

Then she belatedly realised she was sitting backwards on a horse with no actual idea how to ride. "Ah fuck!"

Suddenly the horse was leaping the hedge she’d thrown Jonathan behind, her rising boyfriend dropping back down as her horse’s hooves cleared the far side. "Shit! Shit!" Faith screamed as the out of control steed bolted across the city park, its frenzied panting and whinnying only adding to her concern. She was strictly a city girl, her idea of riding didn’t involve horses. Looking over her shoulder, she saw they were heading towards a tree with low-hanging branches and ducked, bending at the waist until her nose was practically touching horse ass.

And that wasn’t even close to the most embarassin’ position she’d managed to find herself in.

Her hands flew up to grab the branch and push off the horse before gliding into a 360 that would have made an Olympic gymnast green with envy before landing and charging back towards the fight, long legs eating up the distance and full mane flowing behind her.

* * *

Xander stared up at the charging horses and leapt at the nearest vampire only to catch a kick to the face that knocked him to the ground. The wind knocked out of him and his head ringing from the collision with the ground, he barely had enough left to roll out of the following horses’ hooves.

And then Holtz stepped out of the shadows, a disgusted look on his face. His pistol-crossbows came up, two vampires bursting into dust a half-second later. Then the legendary demon-hunter was unsheathing his sword, arcing it up in an impossibly graceful slash, blood spurting from the nearest horse’s neck as it reared up, pitching its rider to the ground.

In an instance Holtz was on the felled vampire, his blade slicing through its throat before it had chance to move. Holtz looked up through a dust-cloud, instinct sending him twisting out of the way of a leaping demon, his blade slicing up to likewise take that demon’s head too.

Another rider, discarding Xander as a threat, started to turn his horse to face Holtz. Leaving his back open to a flung stake to the heart.

And then that was it, the demons dead, their horses bolting up the road.

Xander’s relieved laugh died when he noticed Larry lying unmoving on the ground, his sightless eyes staring up at the dark sky. "Larry!" Xander raced over and knelt down by his friend’s corpse, wishing that he could deny the evidence of his eyes, the pale, bloodless sheen to his friend’s skin, the impossible angle at which his neck hung, and the dimness of his eyes. The pain of failure pressed down on his chest, making it nigh impossible to breathe.

"As I thought," Holtz glared down at him, the night’s drizzle sliding off his leather trenchcoat and growling tone filled with scorn, "incompetent." The vampire hunter shook his head and looked towards Wesley. "He I can understand, he is but a boy. But you are a Watcher! Does that mean nothing anymore?"

"Hey," suddenly Faith was there, the Slayer’s eyes darker than death, "you can’t-."

"Please Faith," Welsey stepped between the advancing Slayer and her intended target, his shoulders slumping under defeat’s heavy weight, "now is not the time."

"Let’s go back to the house," Holtz sniffed. "I will learn nothing else here."

* * *

Xander shook his head as he strode into the darkened bedroom he shared with Cordy, a deep depression crushing his chest, his mind filled with images of Larry’s corpse and of the others that Blaine had butchered. The corpses of all those he’d failed dating back to Jesse and Ms. Calendar soon joined them, a veritable crowd before him. "Maybe Holtz was right," he mumbled.

"Oh please," Cordelia spat, from behind him, the door slamming as his girl-friend back-heeled it, "you’re going to let Mr. Two Centuries Ago take the group away from you?"

Xnader turned to face his girl-friend. "Generally, he just answers to Holtz."

Cordelia shook her head. "Don’t try your unfunny lines on me, Dweeb!" His girl-friend lowered her voice. "If ‘Holtz’ is this great hunter, why did he spend years chasing Angelus and fail, even with the Vatican behind him? And then, what does he do? He gives up and partners up with a demon!" Cordy sniffed. "He’s no great shakes."

Xander looked at her, a half-smile on his weary face. "I’m better?"

Cordy held her thumb and forefinger about two inches apart and smirked. "About that much better."

Xander’s smile widened slightly. "Always gotta come to you for the votes of confidence." His smile died again as he recalled Holtz’s actions earlier. "But did you see him? He cut through the vampires like a knife through butter!"

"Oh grow up," Cordelia’s dark eyes blazed with the sort of fury that had been known to scatter freshmen. "You’re the glue that’s held us together for years! You didn’t just lead the Nightstalkers, you started the Scooby Gang too! And we’ve had a lot more than just Angelus to deal with! You’re our leader, not some broody-boots! Get it together."

* * *

"Ya gonna let him talk to ya like that?"

Wesley started at his Slayer’s unusually soft voice in the doorway behind him, but didn’t turn to face her. His Slayer? He chuckled dourly, only a twisted combination of nepotism, chance, and murder had caused that event to happen. Lord knows, he’d tried to live up to the task no matter the circumstances.

And lord knows how much he’d failed.

He curled up into a semi-ball as he sat on the edge of his bed, his father’s sneering face flashing before him. "Hey!" Faith snarled behind him. "Stop bitchin’ and turn and face me! Jesus," the Slayer continued, "I thought your balls had finally dropped!"

Wesley turned to face the naggingly insistent brunette. "I can only," he swallowed, choking back his tears, "only apologise for not being the Watcher you deserve. I’ll of course resign so that Holtz can take over."

Pain and hurt flooded the dark-eyed bombshell’s orbs. "I thought we were a team," the normally braggadocios Slayer sounded for all the world like a hurt child. "I thought you had my back."

Wesley blinked. She still wanted him? "I…I do, but you should have the best Watcher-."

"I..I," for once the assured Slayer seemed lost for words. "I’ve never had a guy in my life who didn’t try to take advantage. I…I wouldn’t wanna lose that."

"Then," Wesley forced a smile. As always his Slayer had to come before his own concerns.  "You shall not. I am as always at your service and shall endeavour to do my very best."

"Jeez," the Slayer smirked at him even as she theatrically rolled her eyes, " no need to get all wordy ‘bout it!"

* * *

"Daddy’s dead!" Tara’s rage caused the vampire who’d brought the news to burst into flames. "I’ll kill them, I’ll kill them all!" the demoness screamed herself hoarse. "Dead! Dead! Dead!"

"Yes dear," Giles murmured as he placed a comforting kiss on his paramour’s forehead. Already he was planning his next move, deciding which force to move into action against the remaining Nightstalkers next. "We’ll see them dead, but not before they’ve suffered a while."

* * *

"Death’s Bastards dead?" Angelus began to chuckle, chest heaving with rare humour. Another obstacle to his eventual rise removed. This new bitch of a Slayer was having a most beneficial effect on the Nightstalkers. This didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill her of course, but as with most things it was simply a matter of timing.

And he’d always had the most immaculate timing.

His laugher continued to echo around the deserted room.

* * *

The convertible purred effortlessly through Sunnydale’s darkened streets, the city’s inhabitants too smart to be out after lights out. As a result the car was on its own, the interior deathly silent although drenched in the blood of the honeymooners he’d slaughtered to take possession of the car.

"Ah, the Hellmouth," his nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath. A new land to conquer, to become hell’s guardian, what an honour.

But first he would have to see to the notorious Ripper.

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