Buffy stared up at the white-furred behemoth glaring down at her, neck craning. The beast had to be twice her height, which okay she wasn’t tall but that still meant the creature stood well over ten feet tall. The monster’s mouth opened, fangs gleaming.

Buffy smiled nervously. "Nice," she struggled to decide what the monstrosity was, "monkey?"

The thing’s roar shook the snow-covered ground. Buffy dropped into a crouch, allowing the thing’s huge paw to hurtle harmlessly overhead. "Nice bear?" she tried again.

The creature’s second punch caught her square on the forehead, knocking her onto her butt. Buffy scowled as she shook her head clear. "See, that’s just not nice. I was going to tie a ribbon around your neck, maybe give you a to a zoo. But now," Buffy leapt to her feet and drew her sword, sunlight shining off the metal, "I’m going to have to kill you."

The massive furball bounded towards her. Buffy waited until the last second before leaping into the air and into a roundhouse kick that smashed into the creature’s face, blood bursting out of its forehead. Buffy landed in a crouch before the stunned creature managed to steady itself. Not willing to give up her advantage, Buffy charged.

The monster roared when her sword flashed out, its point ripping across its chest. "Too slow!" Buffy taunted as she ducked under another paw swipe before leaping back. "You can do better than that!"

The fur covered beast charged her again, hands swinging wildly. At the last moment Buffy darted to the right, sword slashing up. The beast bellowed as her blade tore into its side just above its left hip, crimson gushing out.

The moment the behemoth was past her, Buffy spun around and slashed down, slicing its hamstring. The giant threw back its head and howled before dropping to its knees. "Now who’s taller?" she asked as she decapitated her rival.

As soon as the headless corpse had hit the ground, Buffy hurried over to her boyfriend and her two junior Slayers standing over the other monster’s corpse. "That was fun!" her beam dissipated at her boyfriend’s paling face. "They weren’t that tough!

"No, my lovely," the Italian playboy shook his head. "It is not the battle that shakes me, it is our opponents."

Buffy shrugged. "They weren’t that tough," she repeated.

"No, no, no," the Immortal shook his head, "you don’t understand." Buffy scowled, people said that to her a lot. "They were frost giants, beasts from the Norse legends. They prove we’re where I said. In Migard."

"Sacre bleu!" Michelle exclaimed. " What sort of maniac sends us into a mythical land?"

"I’ve got a better question," the Immortal put in. "Who has the power to do it?"

Buffy grimaced as one really obvious answer occurred. Willow.

* * *

"It’ll be night soon," Faith stared up at the setting sun, "and there’s no way in hell I’m sleeping outside." Faith looked left and right, to the towering trees and lush green bushes surrounding them. It was revolting. "I am not an outdoors person."

"Jury’s still out on if you’re a person."

Faith chose to resist the growing urge to punch Rona’s teeth out in favour of just ignoring the African-American’s mutterings. "I saw some smoke on the horizon," she continued. "I figure there’s a village somewhere in the distance, maybe an hour from here. We can get some food, booze, and maybe a bed for the night."

"And how are we supposed to pay for all that?" Kennedy sceptically demanded.

"I was figuring we could use the barter system," Faith grinned lewdly at her companions’ confused expressions. "Swap lap dances for booze." Faith laughed at Kennedy’s disgusted expression. "Check your backpacks, girls."

Faith smiled at the others’ gasps as they checked their bags and found their wallets that had been filled with banknotes and credit cards had changed to pouches jangling with coins. "How?" Vi asked.

"Don’t know," Faith shrugged.

"Maybe Willow added something to the transportation spell," Kennedy suggested, "to make sure we would have some local currency."

"Makes sense," Faith nodded. "Let’s hustle, people." Faith smirked at Kennedy. "Say what’s the male version of a tavern wench? Only I kinda got an itch."

"You can get a cream for that you know," Rona muttered. As usual Faith’s glare bounced off the African-American.

In just under an hour they’d reached the hoped for village’s perimeter. Faith gaped at the hamlet consisting mostly of one-storey buildings with wooden walls and smoke puffing out of holes in their straw roofs. People dressed in linen and animal skins stared as they strode down the village’s main and only mud path. "Yeah," Faith concluded as she looked left and right, "we ain’t in 2005 any more that’s for damn sure."

"Gee, you think?" Kennedy scoffed as she headed towards one of the few stone and multi-levelled buildings, the sign above its wooden door indicating it was ‘The Traveller’s Restful Night’. Shoving the door open, the rich lesbian led them into a low-ceilinged, shadowy inn.

Conversation ceased and every eye turned to them upon their entry. The Traveller’s Restful Night had already begun to fill up with patrons eager to satisfy their hunger and quench their thirst after a hard day’s work. The setting evening sun’s cast a band of light down the centre of the tavern’s floor cutting through the smoke filled atmosphere. The wooden tables and chairs were all to the right of the counter and the empty stage. From the kitchen door situated behind the well-stocked bar came delicious smells that had many of the bar patrons casting hungry eyes in its direction.

After nodding, Faith sauntered over to the bar, floorboards creaking underfoot. "Yo, bar-keep!" Faith rapped her knuckles on the hardwood bar surface. "Four glasses of -," Faith’s voice trailed off as she realised they probably didn’t have JD in Camelot, "wine," she lamely decided.

The jowly bar-keep sniffed. "Women drinking in my establishment?" The man shook his head and pointed a finger towards the door. "Get out-."

The man gasped when she reached a hand across the counter, grabbed a hold of his meat-stained tunic, and lifted him off the ground. "I don’t ask nicely twice," she warned as she slammed four coppers onto the counter. "Four cups of wine," she lowered and released the paling man, "now."

"Subtle, Faith," Rona muttered. "Real subtle."

Faith glanced over her shoulder and winked. "I don’t do subtle. ‘Sides I," she smirked when the inn-keep gingerly placed four bronze cups of wine down on the counter before scurrying away, "get results."

They found themselves a table at the far end of the inn, in a corner away from the inquisitive glances and leers from the male customers. Faith grimaced as she tasted the wine. She was no expert, but she knew when something tasted like crap. Faith saw her own distaste reflected in her companions’ grimaces.

"Hey lassies, seems a sin for pretty little things like you to be on your own. Mind if we join you?"

"Yeah," Faith glanced to the right. The leader of their six propositioners was a short fat dude with an incredible case of body odour. "Like that’ s gonna happen in this lifetime."

"Ah, lassie, I know how to warm your cold heart," the man placed a sweaty hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"You might wanna get that damn paw off me," Faith warned with a glare. The snaggle-toothed in-bred just grinned. Without leaving her seat, Faith shot out a foot, smashing her heel into the man’s over-stuffed stomach. The man grunted, greened, and fell to his knees. Faith stared challengingly at the man’s five companions, shock written across their faces. "I think it’s time for your guys to pick up ya bud and leave." The five men immediately grabbed their winded companion and dragged him away. Faith grinned as she turned back to her companions. "Told ya unsubtle works every time."

* * *

Angel groaned as he inspected the sixteen green-skinned figures encircling them. They were all thick-limbed creatures with yellow Mohicans, slanted grey eyes flanking a flat nose, and a mouth filled with vicious-looking teeth. Somehow he doubted they were Avon ladies.

Despite that unsettling conclusion, Angel raised his hands in supplication. "Relax everyone," he soothed, "let’s not jump to any conclusions. They might be friendly." A careful smile on his face, Angel stepped towards the nearest. "We don’t want any trouble."

The creature snarled and lunged towards him, sword thrusting at him, Angel swayed away from the attack. His hand flickered out to grab the creature’s sword-arm at its thick wrist. "There’s no need for any -." His eyes widened at the sight of another beast charging him from the left. "Ah, screw this!" Angel’s foot smashed into the creature’s slab-like chest. The blow lifted the monster off its feet, folded it up like a deck-chair, and flung it back half a dozen feet before crashing to the ground.

Angel twisted the other demon’s wrist against the grain. A snap rang out as the bone broke. "Feel free to join in!" Angel roared as he repeatedly pounded his fist into the monster’s face. After four such blows the thing fell to its knees, its face caved in.

Seeing another demon charging in, Angel leapt into the air. Once he was parallel with the ground, he wrapped his feet around the demon’s head and twisted.

The air resonated to the sound of the demon’s neck snapping. Angel landed upright. Just in time to be charged by another monster, its sword swinging wildly.

Angel dropped into a crouch, allowing the weapon to slash harmlessly overhead. Straightening before the attacker had time to reverse his swing, he stepped into the demon’s space, drove his knee into its groin, and forehead into its face. The monster stumbled backwards, Angel used the momentary respite to draw his own sword and slash at his opponent.

The monster just managed to parry his attack. Sensing another demon behind him, he jumped into the air, tucking his knees into his chest.

The two demons collided with a thudding grunt. Before either had time to react, Angel’s swords had first decapitated one and then the other. Hearing the sound of another demon charging from behind, Angel shot out a leg in a reverse leg sweep.

The creature grunted as it hit the ground. Angel spun around and thrust his blade down, impaling the creature’s throat. Yellow viscera pumped out of the wound, Angel twisted his blade, opening the cut still further, before dragging it out.

Looking around, Angel was relieved to see his companions were finishing off the rest of their attackers. "I’ve had a thought, dad," Connor announced as the last demon thudded to the ground. "Just what do you know about Atlantis?"

"Just scattered fragments," Angel candidly admitted. "I’ve always thought of it as a myth like leprechauns. Why?"

Connor kicked the corpse nearest to him. "What if humans are slaves to these monsters? What if humans don’t exist here at all?"

"Gee," Gwen muttered. "I just wonder where he gets that sunny disposition from?"

Angel ignored Gwen’s comment to look into the distance. "There’s only one way to find out."

"Captain Obvious strikes again," Gwen commented.

* * *

Buffy turned to the others. "The faster we get to the trident, the fast we get home." Buffy shivered. "Back to somewhere." She noticed the Immortal wasn’t exactly paying attention. And the one thing she demanded from her boyfriends was attention. She stamped her foot in the snow. "What’s up?"

Her boyfriend continued to look around. "There’s something wro-," the Italian’s voice trailed off. "Oh that’s what it was." The Italian playboy stared over her shoulder.

Buffy twisted her neck to see where the European was looking. A score of coarse-featured, powerfully-built men were trudging through the snow towards them. All the warriors were dressed in animal skins and furs, but Buffy’s gaze was fixed on the fearsome collection of battle-axes, swords, and spears.

Buffy glanced back at her fellow Slayers. "Stay calm," she counselled. "But if it comes to a fight, try not to kill anyone." She looked towards her boyfriend. "How are supposed to -."

"Greetings strangers!" boomed the biggest of the strangers, a thick-set red-head with gleaming emerald eyes and a blacksmith’s forearms.

"Talk to them," Buffy finished before gaping. She exchanged shocked glances with the Immortal. He shrugged. Realising it must a side-effect of Willow’s spell, she turned back to the interlopers.

"You must be mighty warriors indeed!" the red-head continued. "These frost giants attacked our village five nights ago, killed many of our people, and ran off our cattle. We expected lose many of our remaining warriors in our vengeance quest," the group’s apparent leader shook his head. "But you kill them without loss." The flame-haired Viking threw back his head and laughed. "Come! We must feast and celebrate your victory!"

Buffy opened her mouth. Before she could politely refuse, the Immortal had spoken. "We’d be honoured to share a meal with such gallant heroes."

"Aye!" the towering mountain-man beamed. "Grand! I be Olaf!"

"And why are we doing this?" Buffy hissed as she unwillingly fell in beside her boyfriend. "I thought our mission was supposed to be urgent?"

"It is," the Immortal smiled. "But they might have some information about the trident."

"Oh," Buffy pouted. "You don’t suppose they have a salad option?"

Her boyfriend chuckled. "Doubtful."

"Here, lass!"

"Thanks." Buffy stared with mounting horror at the half-cooked steak one of the Vikings had cheerfully dropped into her hands. "The phase ‘a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips’ comes to mind."

"Buffy," Buffy glanced towards the Immortal. "Olaf says the trident is in Utgard, the outer world, at the entrance to Hel and under the guard of Garm." Buffy stared blankly at her boyfriend. "Garm’s a giant wolf, the size of an elephant."

"Oh great." Buffy lost what little appetite she’d had.

* * *

"And another thing!" Kennedy jabbed an angry finger at the increasingly bemused-looking bar-owner. "Where is the maid service?"

"Jesus, Ken!" Faith’s always short patience ran out. Hooking an arm around the complaining Slayer’s waist, Faith dragged her away. "This ain’t a five star exclusive hotel like the Paris Hilton ya know!" Faith smirked. "Although from what I’ve seen there ain’t nothing exclusive about that girl if ya know what I mean."

Kennedy refused to be amused by her joke. "He over-charged us," the smaller girl complained, eyes shooting daggers at the flinching bar-keeper.

"Shit, Ken," Faith soothed her raging companion. "How in the hell would you know, we’re not ‘xactly experienced in this world are we? Come on."

"Shit," Faith cursed as they crossed the inn’s threshold to find Vi and Rona facing off a mob of maybe thirty pitchfork-wielding peasants. "Ya know," she groused. "People are usually pleased to see me go, not wanting to make me stay."

"That I can believe," Rona muttered.

"You’re an ungodly witch!" accused the mob’s leader.

Faith arched an eyebrow as she recognised the gang-leader as the man she’d kicked the previous night. This was obviously about typically sensitive male pride. "And you’re a sleaze, but ya don’t see me waving a pitchfork in your face. ‘Sides," Faith smirked. "You don’t see any warts on my nose do ya?"

"Hey!" Ken predictably reacted. "That’s an untrue stereotype!"

"Whatever." Faith growled as one of the men loosened an arrow at her. Snatching the projectile of out of the air, Faith flung it back at the would-be archer. The man screamed and fell as the arrow thudded into his thigh.

Noting that the entire mob had turned to the injured man, Faith stepped forward and snatched the pitchfork from the group’s distracted leader, kicked his legs from under him, and held the weapon to his neck. Conscious that all the villagers had turned back to her, she spoke, her voice icy. "I was aiming for your bud’s leg. If I’d wanted him dead he would be. Ya might wanna think about that before deciding if ya wanna continue this."

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry," the man babbled.

"That ya are," Faith agreed before looking at her companions. "Let’s blow this shithole, girls."

* * *

Angel looked nervously around, noting the rising sun. "What worry assails you, Angel?"

Angel glanced towards the questioner and then pointed up into the brightening sky. "The sun, Groo," he explained.

"Ah," his fellow champion nodded in understanding. "You worry it will effect you in the same way it does on earth."

"Yeah," he squared his shoulders. There was only one way to find out. Moving forward, he strode out of the cave, smiling slightly as he shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare but didn’t otherwise burst into flames.

"How?" Connor gasped.

"Wesley," Angel’s stomach twisted as it always did at the utterance of his dead friend, "theorised it was because the rules that govern us not applying to different dimensions."

"Has anyone ever mentioned that you’re really, really pale?" Gwen queried.

Angel’s mood dipped still further. "Yeah," he nodded. "Gunn mentioned it." Anxious to change the subject he looked around. "Grab your stuff," he instructed. "The map says Atlantis lays that way," he pointed north, into a deep valley. "We’ll keep to the shadows so that no-one sees us."

"Wow," Gwen’s whisper carried to his ear, "it’s really beautiful."

Angel found himself nodded in agreement as he stared over the hill’s crest and to the metropolis beyond. The journey had taken all day and dusk was falling. But it had been well worth it.

The vast city sat on top of a hill, encircled by a deep canal at the bottom. A gleaming marble wall surrounded the city, battlements spaced every 150 feet, their spires impaling the sky. The only visible route over the fast-flowing canal was via a stone-walled bridge.

"We’ll need to find sewer access," Angel decided.

"Sewers again?" groused Gwen.

"Preaching to the choir," Connor agreed.

Angel sighed long-sufferingly. "Being a champion is a thankless task, Angel," Groo empathised.

"You’re not wrong, Groo. Not wrong at all."

Buffy sniffed as she trudged dispiritedly through the snow. Olaf and his men had given all of them animal furs as gifts for killing the frost giants. The furs insulated her against the biting cold, but also stunk to high heaven.

Not exactly what she’d dreamed of when she’d aspired to wearing high fashion.

They continued walking for several hours, walking in a single trail. The land they travelled through became increasingly bleak, the trees more gnarled, and the wildlife increasingly scarce. Buffy almost bumped in Michelle when the French Slayer suddenly halted. "What’s the roaring I can hear?" asked the French girl.

"Roar-," Buffy saw the Immortal’s face pale. Her boyfriend’s eyes shot all around before coming to rest on a north-easterly spot. "A storm’s coming," he warned. "Everyone join hands." The Italian playboy looked over his shoulder, "we’ll head for that cave. Hurry and don’t let go!"

Buffy’s breath came in desperate pants as she charged across the winter wildness, the thundering in her ears growing ever louder, snow flying up with every step. Her heart almost stopped when she risked a glance back to see a screeching white blanket charging towards them. If that got to them before they reached cover they’d be utterly blind and completely lost, helpless to avoid a terrible, frozen death. "Faster!" she screamed.

They made the cave with scant seconds to spare. Legs rubbery from exhaustion and blood pounding, she slumped against the cave’s wall. After a minute the Immortal spoke. Buffy had to strain to hear the Italian’s cultured tones over the storm’s high-pitched scream. "We’ll stay here until the storm passes," her boyfriend paused. "At least we have Olaf’s supplies to tide us over."

Buffy’s nose wrinkled at the thought of the viking’s animal steaks. "Oh happy joy."

* * *

Faith stopped as they exited a forest it had taken them several hours to walk through. It had been filled with towering trees, gloriously green shrubs, and blooming flowers of a dozen differing colours. The only sound she’d heard during their trek through the natural paradise was birds’ chirping and bushes rustling as small animals skipped through the undergrowth. Even the air tasted somehow cleaner, perhaps a by-product of no modern-day pollution.

Yeah, definitely revolting.

"Hey! What’s that?"

Faith turned in the direction that Rona was pointing. Her mouth dropped opened at the sight that greeted her. A horseman covered from head to foot in gleaming armour and brandishing a lance was riding towards them, the nostrils of his towering, ebony steed flaring with every pace.

An actual, freakin’ knight of the round table.

"Faith LeHane, speechless," Kennedy muttered in her ear. "Wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself."

"Bite me," Faith warned before stepping forward and dazzling the warrior with her best smile. Hey, sex appeal always worked. "Yo, can you give us some directions to Camelot, seeing as you’re like," she shrugged, unable to believe what she was saying, "from there?"

"Merlin has warned us of your approach," the knight slowed his horse. "I did not expect four wenches to be the threat, but the village you attacked have warned me of what godless harlots you are!"

"Harlot?" Faith raised an eyebrow even as she glanced questionably at Kennedy.

Kennedy’s eyes gleamed with relish. "Slut, ho, skank."

"Yeah, yeah," Faith nodded her eyes fixed on the armoured figure ahead of her, "I get it." Sometimes Kennedy could be suspiciously eager to help. "Look we don’t-."

"For Arthur and Christendom!" the knight roared before lowering his lance and riding right at them.

"Oh please." Faith faked a yawn before readying herself. The instant the knight was in range, she leapt into the air. The knight looked up, she could only imagine his look under his visor, as she cleared his horse, and drew level with his head. His shield started to come up, but it was way too late for that, Faith’s heel smashed into the front of his helmet with enough force to send pain flaring up her leg. Faith’s attack also had the rather more satisfying effect of denting the front of the knight’s helmet, lifting him off his horse, and dropping him onto his back with an almighty clank. Landing, Faith turned to the others and smirked. "Knights of the Round Table, they ain’t all that."

"Now what are we gonna do?" Rona demanded.

Faith looked at the others. "It’s always moan, moan, moan with you. You worry too much," she scolded. Then she looked back at the downed knight. "Say, any of you girls bring a tin-opener?"

* * *

"Does this sewer end?"

"Does your moaning?" Angel counted to ten before replying to Gwen’s query in a louder voice, the sound echoing around the knee-deep in gunk, oval-shaped tunnel. "We’re pretty much at the centre of Atlantis underground network, if it’s still night we’ll climb out at the next access tunnel."

"Grea-, what do you mean as long as it’s still dark? If you think I’m staying in here until tomorrow night, I’ve two words for you! No. Chance."

Angel sighed. Hot, but with a voice that could make ears bleed. He pitied the man who married her. "Only one way to find out," he replied, his tone held carefully neutral. "Let’s keep moving."

For the next half mile or so, the silence was thankfully only broken by the sound of them sloshing their way through the tunnel’s disgusting sewage. Then he stopped and looked up, eyes searching the darkness. "You feel that, Connor?"

"Fresh air?" his son wisely ignored their female companion’s chortle. "Yeah, I feel it. The exit’s a way away though, how are we going to-."

"Have you got that rope we took off the demons?" Connor wordlessly passed it over, a quizzical look on his face. "Thanks."

Leaping into the air, he glided up the ‘poop chute’, the air gradually growing fresher the nearer he got to the top. Once there he grabbed a rung with one hand and shoved the heavy brass manhole cover off with the other before climbing out.

Looking around, he found himself in a deserted street in a clearly residential area. Angel’s eyes widened as he inspected the shadows, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling at what he saw. The city was clearly of a pre-industrial age, but that was about all he could safely say, the scholar in him noticed architecture that pre-dated but influenced all the great early civilisations – Egyptian, Assyrian, Greek, Roman.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention to the rope that Connor had given him. Realising that no one piece would be long enough, he tied three together and lowered them down the hole, praying that the thin yellow-green rope was stronger than it looked.

After a second he felt a tug on the rope’s other end. After an unneeded breath, he braced himself and began pulling, working the rope like a strongman pulling a truck, hand over arm, legs and back working.

* * *

Buffy’s eyes snapped open, around her she could sense her fellow Slayers stirring, but her boyfriend still soundly asleep. Whatever had woken her was supernatural in origin. Grabbing her sword, she rose. "Wake him and then follow me!" she ordered before starting in the direction her instincts led her, adrenalin from as yet unknown danger pumping through her veins.

As she hurried around the bend of a snow-drift she stopped, eyes widening in horror and sword almost dropping from her hands.

Just ahead, through a copse of half a dozen or so conifers, there stood a nine-foot tall, scaled thing with a crocodile’s head and the sort of muscles that only a female Russian shot putter could hope for, its six tree-trunk thick arms swinging left and right to knock over like skittles the axe-wielding dwarves surrounding it. Hearing the sound of the others behind her, she looked over her shoulder. The Immortal let out a particularly foul Italian curse. "What’s wrong?" she demanded.

"That is Grendel!" the Italian play-boy’s face was pale. "Beowulf slayed him in legend!"

"Yeah?" Buffy raised her broadsword, the blade gleaming in the cold winter sun. "Beowulf isn’t here, but Buffy is!" She looked towards her fellow Slayers. "One take the left, the other right, I’ll take point. Let’s kick ass!"

The three Slayers sprinted into the melee. Buffy’s eyes widened as she realised instantly that through some miracle of physiology, the demon was able to seamlessly control each set of arms separately. Buffy gulped as she also realised that each set of the arms ended differently, the top pair were normal if large hands, the middle pair resembled a lobster’s claw, and the lower pair looked like something off that Hellyboy character Xander liked. Ducking under a claw-swipe from the middle left arm while at the same time side-stepping a clublike punch at her from the lower right arm, Buffy swung her sword at the demon’s chest.

"Not good!" she jumped backwards as the impact of the blow reverberated through her, but without leaving even a mark on the demon’s seemingly armour-plated chest. Deciding a change in tactics was sorely needed, she let out a shout. "Girls! His legs, take him out at the hamstrings!" Her fellow slayers nodded in understanding before ducking under claw-swipes, gliding behind the powerful monster, and from their flanking positions swung at the beast’s legs.

"AHHHHHHHH!" Grendel’s pained bellow shook the snow from the trees they’d just run through as the blades sliced into his hamstrings, a yellowy substance gushing out. Its balance wrecked, the demon fell onto its knees. Buffy darted forward, kicking away an attempt at a claw-swipe and swung at the demon’s neck.

Her sword cut deep into the monster’s neck, more of the yellow gunk flying out. The demon stared angrily at her, eyes still blazing before finally slumping forward in the snow, body thrashing for a few seconds before finally lying still.

All at once her companions were surrounded by the dwarves they’d saved, enthusiastically cheering. Buffy smiled as she looked at the little people, it was good to be appreciated.

The dwarves themselves were short, none of them stood above four feet tall, but powerfully built, about as wide across the shoulders and chest as they were tall. Every single one of them had a flowing beard of black, brown, or grey colour, and hooked noses, and were dressed in woollen jerkins and breeches. "Ah lass!" the apparent dwarf beamed up at her, the emerald orbs set deep in his lined face sparkling. "You’re a grand warrior, never seen the like before! Maybe you’d happen like to stay the night with us, celebrate your victory!"

"Buffy," the Immortal hissed, a worried look on his face. "Maybe we should be moving on, the quicker we get our mission com-."

"Nonsense!" Buffy waved a hand at her boy-friend’s protestations. "It would be rude to leave." Besides, she liked being around people who had to look up at her for a change.

Several hours later, after much partying, Buffy and the others hit the sack, exhausted after hours of eating, drinking, and exchanging tales. Buffy groaned as she felt a hand tugging at her shoulder. "The dwarves!"

Buffy stared up blearily at her boy-friend, annoyed that he’d interrupted her dream about an Italian fashion house’s half-price sale. "What about them?" she muttered.

Her boy-friend’s anguished face stared down at her. "They’ve stolen our weapons!"

* * *

Kay groaned as he awoke, head still ringing from his humiliating fall, and face bruised from the kick he’d received. His eyes widened as he saw his captors, three beautiful white girls with strange accents and modes of speech, doubtless Irish or some other foreign nation, and a gorgeous girl of Saracen blood like Sir Palemedes.

"Yo," the midnight-tressed lovely who’d knocked him from his horse spoke. "He’s awake. Always wondered what a knight wore under his armour," the young woman’s nose wrinkled. "Do you ever wash?"

"Faith," reproved the red-haired one. "That’s not the way to get his help." The girl looked towards him, "We’re sorry about the misunderstanding. But the villagers attacked us first. And you did charge Faith. We really need to get to Camelot and -."

"Lead you godless harlots to Camelot?" he laughed. "Never!"

"Look," the other raven-haired beauty shook her head, impatience in her eyes. "There’s four of us. One of you. Maths so simple, even Faith can do it-."

"I’m so gonna kick your ass for that, Ken," muttered the group’s leader.

"You take us to Camelot," the other brunette continued. "And how many knights are there?"

"Forty," he answered before he could stop himself.

"Plus the archers, and footmen," the brunette continued. "You’ll totally have us out-numbered if we’re the bad guys."

Sir. Kay stared at the brunette and her companions for a long time before smiling broadly. They were powerful warriors, but against his king’s righteous might? "I will take you."

"You know, that argument really worked for me," commented the group’s leader. "Especially the part about us being horribly out-numbered."

"No plan’s perfect," commented the Saracen.

* * *

Gwen stared down in disgust at her sewage soaked clothes. "We really need to get some clean clothes," the curvy brunette complained.

Angel chuckled before looking around the darkened streets. "We’re not exactly in a shopping mall," he pointed out. "And you want to try having mine or Connor’s noses."

"These streets are indeed quiet," Groo commented, a worried look on his face. "Even for the time of night, you would expect some activity."

"Yeah," Angel nodded. "What do you think is causing this?"

Groo looked around the crowded streets again before commenting. "I would suggest some sort of plague, a war, an outbreak of crime, or," the Pylean hesitated. "Or in my home dimension, the priests had a curfew where only a few favoured people were allowed out at night-time."

Angel grimaced. None of the choices had him exactly jumping through loops. "What are we going to do, dad?" Connor asked.

"Find somewhere to hide until morning," he replied. "There must be a warehouse or inn we can break into."

They stalked through the streets, stopping occasionally at the sound of approaching people, the nearing groups sounding uncomfortably like the ordered march of military patrols. "Damn," Angel cursed as they turned into yet another dead-end alley. Atlantis might be the fabled civilisation of a bygone age, but to him, it was starting to resemble a damn rabbit-warren. "Try the other w-," Angel turned to the alley entrance, "oh hell."

In the alleyway’s mouth there stood a group of eight thickly-muscled, green-skinned demons with deadly-looking fangs in their mouths, a single stony grey eye, long floppy ears, and upwardly-curving horns sticking out of their foreheads. The three spikes sprouting out of their knuckles only added to their menace. Their leader smiled. "Humans breaking the curfew, it’s been a while since this happened. You’re in big trouble."

"Would it make a difference if I told you we’re not exactly from round here?" Angel asked without much hope.

"Seize them."

"Oh," Angel smiled thinly. "Guess not."

"But we helped them!" Buffy protested as she climbed out from under her furs. "Why would they do that?"

"Because," Buffy saw the Immortal’s lips move soundlessly as he counted to ten, a coping strategy that she’d seen both Giles and Angel use, "they’re renowned as habitual thieves. Which you would have known if you’d either listened to me when I tried to warn you or Giles when he was trying to teach you about Norse mythology."

"Don’t try and blame this on me!" Buffy flared.

"You’re the pig-headed one who wouldn’t listen!" the Immortal replied.

"Why is everything alwa-."

"They went this way!" Michelle interrupted.

"Well done," the Immortal nodded. "Let’s catch them up and get our weapons back."

"Hey, don’t walk away from me!" Buffy snapped as her boyfriend started off with the other two Slayers. "This isn’t over!"

"Oh no," the Immortal sniffed. "Far be it for you to admit you were in the wrong."

A gloomy, glare-laden period followed as they trudged silently through the snow. Buffy’s eyes shot daggers into the Italian playboy’s back. How dare he question her? She saved the world! What right had he to question her? Suddenly Michelle spoke up. "There’s a cave just ahead with a fire inside, the tracks lead up to it, if we surround it and wait for them to come out we could catch them unawares."

"An excellent idea," the Immortal commented. Buffy’s eyes narrowed, now he thought he could take over her mission? "Everyone, move into position."

* * *

"Wow."

"That is-."

"Yeah."

"Holy shit!" Faith quickly wiped away a tear so none of the others could see the effect the marvel before them had on her. Tears were not cool for her image.

But then no-body would have held it against her. The city before them was encircled by a seemingly spotless white wall that gleamed in the mid-day sun. Its walls were filled with loopholes for the city’s archers, and there was a rounded tower, their turrets pointing upwards, impaling the clear sky above, set every three hundred paces. Towards the back of the city there was a hill upon which stood a great castle constructed out of indomitable granite blocks, another wall around it. From the citadel’s highest spire hung a huge banner of a knight galloping across a field, and from its other many other towers there flapped different banners that Faith guessed belonged to the multitude of knights and nobles who served Britain’s greatest ever hero.

"That’s Camelot," she finally breathed.

"Unless there’s another really huge castle just around the next corner."

Faith chose to ignore Kennedy’s sarcasm. "And we’ve got to ride into there. Into a massive army."

"Yep," Kennedy agreed.

"Tell your girl-friend I’m gonna kick her ass when I see her," Faith grunted.

"Ha!" Kennedy snorted. "Like you could!"

"True," she grudgingly nodded. "I’ll have to make do with kicking yours then."

"Girl-friends?" Faith groaned as Kay started off again. Even tied and flung over the back of his horse he hadn’t stopped with the threats and curses. If they hadn’t needed him for the directions, Faith would have gagged him two days back. "You truly are godless harlots if you engage in such unnatural acts."

"Hey," Faith turned towards the knight. "Shut the hell up."

"Come on," Rona started forward. Faith shook her head and grinned, girl was the only person she knew more impatient than her.

The walk down the winding path leading to the city and its huge, shadow-casting walls was over far too quickly. Soon they were stood before an entrance barred with a gleaming, black-iron portcullis that Faith knew that not even a Slayer could break through or lift. Looking up, she saw a trio of vats sat on the walled walkway above the entrance, vats that could be filled with any number of disturbing ingredients designed to discourage unwanted visitors – boiling water or oil for just two. "Yo," she turned towards Kay. "You’re up." The knight stayed stubbornly silent. Faith sighed. "Ya wanna get free or not?"

"Ahoy the guardhouse!" the knight roared. "’Tis Sir Kay! I bring the four intruders searched for by our king!"

"Funny," Faith heard and sniggered at Vi’s mutter, "I thought we brought him. Must be male ego."

After a second the portcullis started to creak up, pulled up by a rope pulley system. Faith looked at the others before starting through the portal and into an oval-shaped tunnel lit by brush-torches set into the brick walls. The moment they stepped out into the sunlight they were surrounded by twenty of so halberd-wielding footmen dressed in chain-mail. "Take me to your leader." Faith hid her own tension behind a smirk as the others turned to her. "What? I always wanted to say that."

* * *

Angel spun out of the way of the first demon to charge him. His eyes widened when the demon’s fist slammed into the wall behind, chipping brick but having no apparent effect on the demon. "Oh goody," he muttered as he leapt backwards, kicking off the wall before leaping-first into his opponent’s vault-sized chest, "this is just going to be heaps of fun."

He winced as he thudded against his opponent then grunted when the creature grabbed him in a bone-splintering bear hug. "Shit!" he smashed his forehead into the demon’s face. His opponent growled but didn’t release the hold. Cursing, he butted the beast again. Again it growled but failed to release his grip. Shaking his head clear, he tried again.

This time the demon did loosen his grip. The moment Angel’s feet hit the ground, he took a step back and kicked up, crashing his foot against the side of the monster’s head. The demon stumbled backwards. Angel leapt into the air, cannoning a dropkick into the monster’s face, knocking it into the wall behind with brick-cracking force.

Even as the demon fell to the ground another grabbed him by the shoulder. Angel responded with a side kick to the demon’s stomach before twisting to face it, barely managing to glide under the creature’s haymaker at his face in the process. The demon swung a follow-up left that Angel blocked on his shoulder, the pain blazing through his shoulder making him vamp out.

The monster recoiled in shock. "Seems like you’re not the only monster around here!" Angel laughed before snatching hold of the demon’s head and twisting, the air resonating to the snap of its neck.

"Ahh!" Angel staggered as an incredibly hard blow smashed into his back between his shoulderblades. Kicking out behind, he connected heel-first with somebody’s face but at the same time another demon kicked him in his grounded leg, knocking him to his knees. He managed to block the first punch thrown, and even elbow his attacker in the stomach, but then he was battered by a barrage of blows, each one crashing into him until finally he slumped to the ground.

* * *

"I don’t see why we can’t go in?" Buffy said through gritted teeth as she peered at the cave they were hiding some eighty paces from. She shivered, god it was so cold.

"Because, as I’ve explained for the umpteenth time, they’ll see us coming, we get them as they’re coming out, they won’t be prepared," her boyfriend snapped in much the same manner.

"Fine!" she snapped back before lapsing into a grumpy silence.

Finally the dwarves stumbled out of the camp, their clumsy gait suggesting they’d been drinking. The moment they were level with her position at the opening to the small valley leading up to the cave, Buffy bounded to her feet. "Get them!"

Blood pounding, she charged down the slight incline. She hit the first dwarf full on, shoulder to shoulder, the force of the collision sending the dwarf crashing into a near-by tree and sliding to the ground. A second dwarf’s mouth opened in shock a half-second before she filled it with her foot. A third charged her, axe lifted over his head, but she easily grabbed the axe shaft and reversed the swing, crashing the handle into the dwarf, dropping him like a stone. Sensing a fourth attempting to sneak up behind her, she shot out a heel, catching the dwarf on the tip of his chin, catapulting him into the air.

Looking around, she saw that the other Slayers had dealt with the rest of the dwarves and were already rummaging through the dwarves’ belongings, seeking their weapons. "That’ll teach em!" she exulted.

"I doubt it," the Immortal sniffed. "They’re compulsive thieves. Now we’ve taken this little detour can we please continue?"

* * *

"What is this threat that worries Merlin so?" Arthur asked the unfortunately empty council room, his knights only just returning from travelling his lands, searching without success for the threat. And yet, if Merlin said it existed, it must. Arthur looked up from his brooding as one of his page boys crashed through the ornately-carved oaken double doors, eyes wide with excitement. "Sir Kay has returned with four fair maidens he claims are the threat!"

"Kay?" Arthur rose from his chair, hand reaching for his sword. "Have him and these wenches brought her-."

"Who ya calling wenches?" Arthur looked towards the entrance, eyes widening at the hubbub there. A quartet of devilishly attractive women clad in men’s clothes of some foreign land or other had walked in, surrounded by a considerable number of his footmen. "Hey," the group’s evident leader stepped forward, an amused yet slightly awed gleam in her luminous eyes, "this is the Round Table room. Gotta say, love what ya did with the place."

Arthur’s eyes widened still further as he realised that these WOMEN who were strangers to boot were armed while standing in the middle of his council room. "Take their weapons!"

"Not a good idea." He gasped as one of the men stepped forward only to be put down by a firm kick to the crotch, his companion who lunged for the brunette a second later going down to an elbow to the head. "Look," the brown-haired beauty ducked a third’s halberd-led lunge before snatching his weapon off him, "we don’t wanna fight, we want your help!"

"Help to bring down King Arthur’s reign!" shouted Kay.

"Jeez," the brunette shook her head. "Beat a guy’s ass once and he holds a grudge forever."

"To be fair," commented the Saracen amongst the quartet’s number, "it was less than a week ago."

"Oh great," the other brunette groaned as Arthur’s gallant knights charged in, "well done, Faith. Ever thought of working for the UN on the middle east crisis?"

"I’m too busy practicing being bad-ass hot to waste my time, Ken," the beauty replied before spinning around to face him as he attempted to approach the surrounded quartet. "Listen Arth," he blinked at the shortening of your name, "I respect you and all, but you try anything and I will shove your sword right up your English Channel."

"Good gracious, you have quite a way with words."

"Ah," Arthur smiled as his mage entered the chaotic council room. Surely he would be able to make some sense out of the chaos. "Merlin-."

"It’s not possible!" The feared wizard stared at each of the four girls in turn. "Slayers, but how!"

"Hoo-fucking-ray," the taller of the two brunettes spoke up, her strange accent barely intelligible, "that’s what we’ve been trying to tell you dumbasses since we met Kay," the curvy beauty shot Arthur’s friend a disgusted look, "we’re the good guys."

* * *

"Ah," Angel groaned as he opened his eyes. Head thudding, he rolled up into a sat position and groaned as he looked around his dank surroundings. Another cell, from Liam’s drunken nights that invariably ended in the watchman’s dungeons to Holtz’s vengeance-filled cells, to now, it seemed he never managed to escape prisons.

"You’re awake!"

"Just about," he grunted at his son’s cheerful shout. "But don’t bellow, I feel like I’ve been on a three day drunk, and trust me I know how they feel." He grimaced. "Not to ask a stupid question but where are we?"

"According to those people," Connor pointed to a trio sat towards the back of the cell, in its shadows, "Atlantis is run by the minority demon population, they’re resistance fighters brought here like us. Brought here to fight in their arena."

"Their ar-," Angel groaned as he heard the sound of booted footsteps. Many pairs of booted footsteps. "Oh this day couldn’t get any better," he groused as he rose. Seeing the others, he shook his head. "I’ll deal with this. And if anything happens, I’ll be back for you all."

By the time he reached the prison’s steel bars, a dozen of the demons had come to the gates. "Hey," he smiled at the guards, "did you not get our reservation for the Hilton?"

"You come with us!" bellowed the lead demon. "You are to fight in the arena!"

"Ah," Angel sighed. "Obviously not."

A/N: Yes, I know the explanation Faith gives is incomplete, but she doesn’t know what Giles and the others do yet.

"This isn’t good." Angel blinked as he was forced out of a dark, narrow tunnel and into well-lit, open-roofed octagon, and the area above its high walls filled with bleachers containing a multitude of differing demons, their hisses, grunts, and snarls adding up to a deafening clamour. Just to give the arena that last touch, a variety of blood-stained weapons lay on its sandy ground.

And as he stepped into the arena, a grille screeching down behind him, a figure came out of the tunnel opposite, some sixty paces away. Angel groaned as he recognised the creature. "And it just keeps getting better and better."

The monster stood maybe seven and a half feet tall with a pair of gleaming horns sprouting out of its head adding a much as another foot to its height. Its eyes gleamed red under a snout nose, and its black-furred body contained a set of muscles that uncomfortably reminded Angel of the Beast. "And wasn’t that a fun trip for all involved?"

The monster started towards him, hooves leaving sandy footprints in its wake. Angel waited until the Minotaur was almost upon him before diving into a forward roll to the monster’s left, snatching up a broadsword as he rolled past the mammoth beast. Leaping up behind the creature, he thrust the blade deep into the area where he hoped the creature’s heart was.

"Ahhhhhhh!" Even as the beast threw out its arms and let out an arena shaking bellow, Angel cartwheeled his way over to a double-bladed axe, scooped the weapon up, stepped around and in front of the monster, and back-handed slashed at its neck.

The Minotaur’s head disappeared in a shower of blood, head exploding off its broad shoulders as it toppled forward. For a second the arena was deathly silent, stunned into stillness by Angel’s easy kill.

And then he was moving, axe in one hand and sword in the other, easily clearing the 20 feet wall to land in the first row of the bleachers. Axe swinging one way and the sword the other, Angel hewed a viscera-soaked path through the shocked monsters en-route to his escape. As he reached the top of the arena, Angel looked back down, towards where he guessed the cells lay. "I’ll be back, Connor. Count on it," he promised before leaping off.

* * *

"I made a mistake!" Buffy snapped at the Immortal, anything to end his glowers. "Are you happy now?"

"Not really," her boyfriend stared left and right. "Your apology would only mean something if I thought you meant it."

"Why you-. Whoa!" Buffy fell onto her butt as the snow before them erupted, a huge beast flying out from the ground. Buffy stared up into the sky, eyes widening at the monstrosity hovering above.

The dragon, because there was no way on earth it was anything else, was about a hundred and fifty feet in length from the tip of its bone-spurred tail to its teeth-filled mouth. Every scale covering its green body seemed the same thickness of tank armour, and the eyes either side of its smoke-blowing snout glowed a malignant red. Its long chicken-like legs ended in horrific looking claws, easily capable of picking an elephant up in one of them. Its massive wings though, they were the things of nightmares, a shade of black your eyes seemed unable to focus on without chilling you to the bone, and somehow greying the blue sky for as far as the eyes could see.

"W…what i…is that?" Buffy whispered between chattering teeth.

"Nidhogg," everyone looked towards the Immortal. "A dragon who eats the roots of the World Tree, Yggdrasill."

"So, not a good guy?" Everyone turned to Michelle. Buffy shook her head in disapproval; even she knew the answer to that one. "Sorry I asked. Here’s a better question, what do we do?"

"Run!" Leaping to her feet, Buffy grabbed the Immortal’s hand and yanked him to his feet.

* * *

"Now we’ve got that sorted out," Faith nimbly leapt over the table and sat down, swinging her boots up onto the table, "I’ll take a load off." Faith raised an eyebrow at the king’s apoplectic expression and the horrified looks on the halberdiers and knights’ faces. "What?"

"My dear," Merlin, who looked just like she’d imagined him – sort of like Gandalf on steroids, straight back, flowing grey hair and waist-long beard, black eyes that looked like they could bore deep into your soul and pluck out every secret, chuckled. "You’re sat in the king’s seat."

"Ah," Faith paled as she followed Merlin’s gaze to the glaring Arthur. She shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "All these seats look the same," she defended. "Maybe you guys should look into nameplates."

"Your feet are resting on it," Merlin’s eyes gleamed with amusement.

"SHIT!" Leaping to her feet, she looked down at the scuffed bronze plaque and then at the king. "Uh, sorry." She glared at Kennedy head-butting the table and the other two Slayers rolling around the stone-paved floor, tears of laughter pouring down their faces. It wasn’t that funny.

The bearded king’s mouth opened, lips thinning to a scowl. "Peace, sire," the magician interrupted. "The child made an honest mistake." Faith’s mouth opened to protest being called a child, if anyone was woman-sized she was, then closed it again. Right now she’d take just about any route out of having to fight her secret childhood hero. The mage’s eyes turned to sudden black stone, the council room’s temperature plummeting. "However I would be very interested in your story, I sense you have travelled long and far-."

"Oh boy," Faith muttered under her breath, "are you on the money."

"And I am more than a little interested to discover how your time has four Slayers?" the magician finished.

"See," Faith spoke up when she realised her companions were looking to her for answers. "In our time there were two Slayers, the second line having being activated when the first drowned but brought back to life by a friend. But then we were battling the First and his army of Turok-Han, and two Slayers wasn’t nearly enough, so the premier witch of our time activated all the potentials, creating hundreds of Slayers, and then we kicked the First’s ass."

"The First?" Merlin’s eyes widened. "You fought the First Evil and won." The sorcerer looked at each of them in turn. "Most impressive. But casting a spell that would create so many Slayers," the mage shook his head, "that could only cause a dimensional imbalance that could very well rip the world apart. Perhaps it would have been best if the First won! Such foolishness!"

"Hey!" Kennedy’s eyes flared at the criticism of her girl-friend. "It wasn’t Will-."

"A little diplomacy Ken," Faith briefly enjoyed the younger Slayer’s slack-jawed look before continuing. "Yeah, maybe so, but we didn’t know that at the time. But now, Satan," she raised an eyebrow when several of the men recoiled, "grow a pair. He’s not like Voldemart, ya can’t summons him by just mentioning the name."

"You’ve read Harry Potter?" Vi snorted.

Faith eyeballed the red-head. "Is that gonna be a problem?" she demanded before looking at the others. "Anyhow, because of the Slayer mass calling, all these demons are sorta leaking into our dimension, and the only way to close all the holes is by -."

"The Three Tridents Of Tariq," Kennedy supplied at a questioning look.

"Yeah," Faith nodded her thanks. "One of which is-."

"Under this very castle," Merlin looked towards Kennedy, eyes narrowing. "This witch you so vehemently defended, her name wouldn’t be Willow Rosenberg by any chance?"

"Yeah," Kennedy looked towards her and then back at the mage, "it would."

"It seems we need to do some research-," Merlin smiled at her muttered curse. "Most unladylike language," the sorcerer waggled a spindly finger at her, "it seems the passing of countless generations has not lessened the Slayer line’s antipathy to study."

"Got that right," Faith agreed.

The magician chuckled before looking towards the increasingly confused-looking king. "By your leave, my king?"

After a second, Arthur nodded. "I will expect a full explanation later."

"But of course my lord," Merlin nodded. "Girls, follow me."

Faith shook her head as the mage started out of the council room. "At least he didn’t yell ‘heel’."

* * *

Angel smiled as he peered down on a three man patrol as it ducked into the darkened alley ahead of him. He’d spent the entire day and the early part of the next night evading patrols, but now his patience was just about run out, and these three had isolated themselves.

Unlucky for them.

Creeping to the edge of the roof he was crouched on, he waited until the oblivious trio passed by under him before leaping to the ground behind the two demons bringing up the rear. He was attacking before he’d even hit the ground, his axe taking the head of the right demon, his sword decapitating the left.

The third demon, one of the same breed who’d captured him the previous night, charged him. Not wanting to kill his opponent just yet, Angel dropped his axe and slammed a right into the demon’s jaw while at the same time swinging his sword behind the demon, slicing his hamstring in half.

A look of bewildered pain on its ugly face, the demon stumbled backwards, right leg flopping horribly. Dropping his other weapon, Angel ran shoulder-first into the beast, knocking it against the wall, another right and it was down on the ground, him knelt on top of it, hands around its head.

"Now," he shot the trapped demon his best Angelus smile, the one Angelus used just before he created his ‘art’, "you’re a smart looking boy. How about you tell me where I can find the resistance and I’ll kill you quickly?"

"We’re behind you."

Angel glanced over his shoulder and looked to his left and right to see a trio of raggedly-dressed men brandishing bows and arrows in both ends of the street. "Why is it people are always pointing weapons at me?" he twisted the demon’s neck, the rebels paling at the sound of cracking bone. "Am I not a friendly lad?"

* * *

Buffy’s blood roared as she led her companions on a wild, helter-skelter charge through the desolate wilderness, the dragon relentlessly following. At one point they had burst out of a copse for it to be turned to ashes a half-second later, the dragon’s breath more than enough to singe them.

Spying a gully our of the corner of her eye, Buffy veered sharply to her right. "Down here!" Soon she was leading the others down the slope, nimbly skipping down the steep incline.

"Ahhhh!"

Buffy’s eyes widened as she looked over her shoulder to see that the Immortal, not having their natural agility had fallen, and was even now rolling haphazardly down, his fall turning the snow-covered incline into an avalanche. "Oh sh-."

And then the snow hit her.

* * *

"And this quartet of wenches?" she hissed from the shadows of one of the castle’s deepest dungeons, a most uncomfortable place for a meeting, but also most discreet. "Is it true, they are Slayers?"

"Merlin himself has confirmed it," replied her spy.

Morgana’s lip curled up in disdain. Damn that well-meaning fool and his unassailable power. If he just worked with her, the entire nation could be theirs. But no, he was too busy prattling on about honour, justice, and courage. Well, if she couldn’t have the kingdom, no-one could. She’d see it destroyed.

But that was for another day. "What was this great mission that brings these wenches here?" She listened intently as the traitor filled her in, eyes widening at one revelation after the next. "The Three Tridents Of Tariq?" she hissed. Only the foulest of tomes, many of which she had in her hidden collection, made mention of the Tridents, but even those snippets were enough to both send chills down her spine and make her salivate with thought of their dread power. After a second she shook her head. If Merlin wanted this harlot to have them for doing good, then she knew the bringer of light would want otherwise. "Whoever this Slayer is, have her slain."

"My lady," the spy bowed her head. "As you just said, she is a Slayer. And one of just four, perhaps other-worldly methods would be better suited."

It was on the tip of her tongue to rip her agent’s head off for his impudence, but in the end she nodded. What he said made a certain sense. "Very well, I will think on it."

"Nothing electrical, nothing!" Gwen cursed as she kicked impotently at on the thick steel bars that made up the entrance to their cell. "And," she spun around to glare at her companions, "why aren’t you trying to escape?"

Groo appeared unperturbed by her anger. "We have already tried and failed to bend the bars, they appear to be magically reinforced." Gwen snorted, that was typical man, always ready with an excuse. "Even if we could escape there are dozens of those demons who captured us. Any escape attempt would be valiant, but ultimately unsuccessful."

"We can’t just sit here waiting for them to take us one by one!" she exclaimed.

"We’re not, we’re waiting for my father," Connor put in from his seat in the shadows.

Gwen shook her head. "Connor, what if he doesn’t come back? We’ve heard no word of what happened and it’s been two nights."

Gwen instantly regretted her words at the crestfallen look that crossed Connor’s face. Even as she thought of some way to take her words back, Groo spoke, his tone as confident and untroubled as always. "Angel is a true champion, he has fought many battles and always won. He will return."

"Start a fan club why don’t you?" Gwen shook her head before turning back to the cell’s bars. "I just hope he gets here soon."

Behind her, Groo sighed. "It would seem the women of each of the dimensions I visit are cursed with impatience."

"MEN!!!!!"

* * *

The room the magician led them to was long and narrow with a table in the centre and depressingly full books cases lining the walls, the musky smell that she’d always secretly associated with Sunnydale High’s library filling her nostrils. At their entry, a tiny brown-haired girl around B’s size dressed in a woollen tunic and breeches leapt up from her seat at the table, black eyes gleaming excitedly. "Master!" Faith raised her eyebrows at that. Better not let G hear that, guy was way too big-headed as it was. "These strangely-garbed women," brown-eyes shot them a curious look, "I feel them-."

"Keep your hands to yourself," she murmured, "that’s Ken’s bag not mine."

"They are Slayers as am I?" the girl finished.

"Most perceptive," Merlin nodded, a proud look on his face.

The brown-eyed girl’s eyes widened. "But how-."

"Explanations later, Bronwyn," the magician reproved. "We are a mission of some urgency." Faith gawked when an entire shelf of books levitated in mid-air, hovered for a second and then floated down to the table. "These books will be of use to you." The magician paused. "I’ll leave you now, there are certain things I must attend to."

Faith sighed. "Books, I hate books."

The minutes passed slowly as they started to research, Faith’s brow furrowing as she struggled with the old-fashioned English. "You are their leader, correct?"

Faith glanced up, the kid Slayer was stood by her, an excited look on her face. "Yeah."

"You must be a mighty warrior to lead others of our Calling into battle," the centuries-past Slayer enthused. "And to have reached such an advanced age." Faith raised an eyebrow, twenty-three was old now? "Perhaps you could teach me-."

"Look kid," she didn’t bother with the younger girl’s name, "this isn’t a holiday or nothing, we’re here on serious business."

"Very well," the younger Slayer flushed at her dismissive tone, "I will go and see Master Merlin, perhaps he has some task for me to complete."

Faith nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"That was a little harsh wasn’t it?"

Faith glanced up from her book to see Kennedy staring down disapprovingly. "That’s rich coming from Miss Bitchy."

"Maybe I am," the younger Slayer appeared unfazed by her snap. "But that’s not the point, for some reason, the dumb kid idolises you, and you blew her off like she’s nothing."

"I was doing her a favour," Faith looked down, cheeks flaming.

"Oh yeah," Kennedy sniffed. "it’s always a favour to have your idol stamp on your feelings."

"Look," Faith spoke through gritted teeth, "girl needs to learn that I’m not fit to be anyone’s idol, murderer remember?"

"Faith," Kennedy’s mouth dropped open. "If you were just a murderer, Giles wouldn’t have put you in charge of this miss-."

"Look", she interrupted. "Work to do, less chat, more reading."

* * *

"Gah." Buffy spat something soft out of her mouth. Body aching and head ringing, she blinked her eyes open. Panic struck as she registered the whiteness surrounding her, her hammering heart only easing when she remembered the avalanche.

"What about the others?" she whispered as another wave of panic hit her. Calming herself, she started to dig herself up and out of the snow. She couldn’t be alone, how was she supposed to survive in this world she knew next to nothing about?

Finally she broke through to the surface. Looking up, she noted that some hours had passed, the sun having long since given way to a star filled sky. Shivering slightly with the cold, she began to dig haphazardly, having no real idea as to where the others were.

Suddenly a hand burst out of the snow about twenty paces to her left. Heart lifting, Buffy rushed over and began digging its owner out. "Michelle!" she half-sobbed as she recognised the normally so-stylish French Slayer, the girl left bedraggled by the snow. Grabbing the willowy Frenchwoman’s wrists, she pulled her fellow Slayer out before grabbing her in a near hysterical hug.

Pulling away from the other girl, cheeks flushed by the whipping wind, she looked around. "The others must be around here," she declared, face creasing in determination, "we’ll split up and dig up every inch if we have to!"

An hour later and the four of them were re-united around a crackling fire, its heat slowly re-animating parts that seemed to have frozen stiff. Finally the Immortal spoke, face still blue. "Tomorrow we head into Hel."

* * *

Cloaked in the near-by inn’s shadows, Angel stared at the stadium looming up in front of him, a feeling of grim foreboding resting heavy on his dead heart. It had been two whole days since his escape, far longer than he’d envisaged before coming back for Connor and the others, but the delay had been unavoidable. Angel had immediately found himself caught up in a counter-productive struggle between the four main resistance groups which had eventually ended when he’d lost his temper, and rounded up the groups’ leaders and ‘discussed’ their abdications and ceding of power to him. Now he had an army.

He just hoped it was enough.

The ground beneath his feet shuddered, almost knocking the three natives stood with him from their feet, but leaving him unfazed. Angel looked into the previously dark sky, smiling grimly at the fires now illuminating it. The six-pronged attack he’d organised striking at key points through-out Atlantis had begun, now he had to finish it.

He glanced towards his companions. "Get your teams, you know what to do." Without waiting to see if they obeyed, he stared towards the building’s entrance, an imposing steel barred gate with barbed wire on top of their spiked heads and guarded by two demons from the species that had originally caught them.

"Human!" One of the demons stepped towards him, eyes troubled as it glanced past him and to the chaos in the city. "Return to your home immediately. Order will soon be restored!"

"Technically," Angel reached inside his jacket and pulled out the broadsword he’d used to such effect two nights ago, "not a human." The demon barely had time to register his sword before his blade was flashing through his neck, decapitating him in a single, effortless motion.

Sensing the demon’s partner charging him from behind, Angel reversed his swing to take his other rival’s head off. Before the second demon had hit the ground, Angel was striding towards the gates. Looking up, he calculated the leap over the gates was perhaps thirty feet and the gap between the top of the gate and the ceiling was perhaps

Angel sighed. He just knew one way or another this way going to hurt.

Seconds later he was crashing to the ground inside the gate, body cut in half a dozen places. "Let’s see him complain," Angel groaned as he stood, "next time I forget his birthday." After a last a baleful glance at the gate, noting the remains of his coat stuck to the gate spikes and flapping in the wind, Angel hurried in the direction he remembered the holding cells being, down a path lined by pillars carved into demonic figures.

Hearing hoarse breathing behind a pillar ahead, Angel kept up the same unhurried pace as he approached his would-be ambusher. At the last second he pulled back, leaving the short but thickly-muscled four-armed demon who leapt at him clutching at thin air for the half second before Angel’s sword cleaved his head in. "Ach," he shook his head, "these boyos be amateurs. Have they never seen a vampire before?"

As he reached the entrance to the holding cells, a rickety wooden guardhouse he stopped. "Ah, this might be a little more tricky."

The two demons who guarded the entrance were tall, powerfully built creatures covered entirely in scales and with curved horns sticking out of the sides of their heads. After grunting the pair charged him, ground shaking under him. Angel stepped back, as if to retreat.

And then leapt forward, sword flashing up at the left beast.

And the creature’s fist snapped up, colliding with the blade with enough force to snap the blade in two. "Oh," Angel groaned as the right demon engulfed the back of his head in a huge palm and flung him into the air, "this is going to hurt!"

He hit the guardhouse wall and flew threw it, crashing to the brick ground beyond. Rolling up, he saw the two demons rushing him. Tearing a ceiling manacle free, he stepped out of the wrecked guardhouse, and swung his makeshift weapon at the nearest of the two demons.

The manacle’s cuff smashed into the demon’s left horn, ripping it off is head. The demon threw back its head and wailed en-route to crashing to its knees, its life-blood pumping out on the cobbles. The second demon slowed, dull eyes filling with what Angel guessed was shock.

Before the demon had chance to recover Angel was by its side, broken sword thrusting up and into its thigh. The creature let out a roar before stumbling forward, doubling up as it did so.

The moment its head was in range, Angel grabbed a horn and yanked. The creature screeched as the horn snapped loose, its flailing hand catching Angel with rib-cracking force. Hitting the ground in a heap, Angel was forced to roll to one side to avoid the defeated demon falling on him.

"Oh yeah," Angel mumbled as he clambered to his feet. "If he ever complains about his Christmas presents again, this rescue is gonna come up."

* * *

Faith yawned as she entered the quarters that she’d being assigned. It was strange how a day spent researching made her more tired than a night spent partying or a rough fight.

Faith chuckled. Maybe it was her brain was waaaay less developed than the rest of her body. Shaking her head, she kicked off her cowboy boots, unsheathed her sword and threw it onto her four-postered bed, and began unbuttoning her denim shirt.

"Whaa-," the hairs on the back of her neck prickled as her Slayer sense kicked. Faith looked around warily. The candle-lit room seemed empty, but Faith had learnt to trust her instincts. Looking towards her sword, she stepped towards the bed.

Suddenly a tall skull-faced figure with pointy ears, dead black eyes, and a rope-muscled physique appeared between her and the bed. The monster punched at her with a three-knuckled spiked fist, Faith glided away from the attack, raven hair bouncing with the movement. "Shit!" She screamed as pain blazed through her scalp as her hair was grabbed from behind and she was flung to the ground. Faith winced as she hit the paving-stones knees-first. Ignoring the pain, she rolled onto her side and kicked out at the second of her attackers, the creature the twin to the first.

Her blow crashed into the demon’s thigh, knocking it back a step. But even as she attacked, a third creature appeared, punching down to cut open her forehead. Blood blurring her vision, Faith gasped open as another of the demons grabbed her hair and yanked her to her feet.

"Big mistake," she mumbled. The moment she was upright, Faith swung her legs up, wrapped them around the neck of the demon in front of her and twisted. As a continuance of her attack, she back-fisted the monster to her right in the mouth.

Blood erupted from the demon to her right’s mouth at the same time the air rang to the sound of the other monster’s neck snapping. Taking advantage of her shocked captor’s loosening grip, she back-flipped into the air, wrapped her legs around her rival’s neck and with a flip of her thighs, flung it headfirst to the ground.

The creature’s head cracked like an egg-shell on the unforgiving ground even as Faith landed in a crouch. And caught a fist to her left cheek, knocking her down to one knee. Faith blocked a kick at her face on her forearm before leaping up, hooking her arms around the beast’s trim waist and tossing it to the ground. Before the beast had chance to retaliate, she’d wrapped her hands around its lean face and twisted, snapping its neck like kindling.

Exhausted, she rolled off the beast, sweat lathering her and breath coming in desperate pants. She laughed raggedly as she raised a hand to her swelling cheek, her palm coming away sticky with blood. "Thank fuck for Slayer heal-, oh crap," she paled as the hairs on her neck prickled again.

Looking up, she saw another six of the monsters materialising in a circle around her, cold intent in their dead eyes. Faith swallowed, no weapons, wounded, and out-numbered six to one. Oh boy, was she in the shit. Faith started to rise only to catch a left to the jaw. Ignoring the pain, she tried to rise again, blocking a foot on her elbow as she reached one knee. "Jesus!" Faith grunted as a foot smashed into her crotch at the same side other boots smashed into her ribs on both side. Body screaming, she slumped to the ground and crawled into a foetal ball to best shield herself from the ceaseless barrage of punches, kicks, and stamps reigning down on her.

Suddenly the door exploded inwards and a resounding voice rang out. "Be gone!" Her six tormenters threw back their heads and screamed before disappearing into the darkness leaving behind the corpses of their companions. Faith looked up dazedly, her vision partially obscured both by a concussion and the blood dripping into her eyes, to see Merlin staring down at her in concern. "I am sorry I was not here sooner, a shielding spell had been placed on this room, it was how I sensed the attack, but also slowed down my aid." The magician glanced at the trio of corpses. "Three Shadow-Stalkers on your own, even the mightiest of Arthur’s knights would struggle to defeat one especially when unarmed. Truly you are a legendary warrior."

"Yeah, thanks," Faith spat blood onto the paving stones under her.

"Are you alright?" asked the magician.

"I’ll be fine in the morning," Faith replied as she struggled to her feet and turned towards her bed. Damn, just a minute ago it was half a dozen steps away, now it seemed like miles. Faith limped to the bed. "I just need to pass out now."

* * *

"So this is Hel?" Buffy asked through chattering teeth. "You know, I thought it would be hotter."

They were under a bleak, stone grey sky and on a path made entirely of bones, she was pretty sure they were human bones but obviously hadn’t looked close enough to be sure, flanked by walls of flames and deafened by the screams of those apparently trapped inside the fires. Yet despite the blazing inferno it was bone-chillingly cold.

"Hel was described in Snorri Sturlson’s Prose Edda as a place thronged with the shivering and shadowy spectres of those who have died ingloriously of disease or in old age. Hel is also home to dishonourable people who have broken oaths. Hel is cold and low in the overall order of the universe." The Immortal paused. "And I wouldn’t look up too closely. Hel was said to be a hall with a roof woven from the spines of serpents which drip poison down onto those who wade in the rivers of blood below."

"Sacre Bleu," Michelle muttered. Buffy knew how she felt.

"Ignore the screams," the Italian playboy winced as a particularly high-pitched screech rang out. "There’s no way to help the condemned. And if you step off the path your soul’s lost immediately. The only way out of the hall and to our target will be across Gjoll, a freezing river with knives flowing in it."

"So not Niagara Falls then?" Buffy muttered.

"Fortunately there’s a bridge across it," the Immortal continued.

"Good, because today was looking like a very bad one for a paddle," she muttered before raising her voice. "So follow the yellow brick road, right?"

It was feet-blistering hours until they reached their destination. "Oh my god," Buffy gasped.

There was no bridge on earth that came close. It was so wide that an army could march across it abreast, a thousand men at once, and so long she couldn’t see the other end. A huge arch roofed it and it was lined every twenty paces by ebony statues of death’s many faces.

After a gulp she stepped on it and leapt off when a crashing bang sounded. "What was that!"

"I’m sorry," the Immortal had a faintly amused look. "I forget to mention that although the dead can walk on it without sound, it rings out like a thousand step on it for every live person."

"Forgot huh?" Buffy glared at her boyfriend.

"Well maybe not forgot."

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