Title: Tilting The Balance

Rating: R (For Language later)

Relationships: X\F

Story: Action\Adventure

Feedback: In lieu of a Faithbot yeah.

E-Mail: Keithcoll@gmail.com

Disclaimer: If I own the characters, why have Faith and Cordelia escaped? Woe is me. Consider anything and everything up to Not Fade Away as canon. As for those contradictory, poorly-written, and ill-conceived comics. Forget it.

"Let's go to work."

Spike swallowed as he watched the army approach. Even with the rain shrouding their approach, the size of their enemy was undeniable. "I was hoping for a better plan than that, mate," he snarked even as he glanced towards Gunn. Even without his human frailties, he’d lay a good few quid on the African-American lasting the shortest. Even now he could sense the American’s heartbeat growing weaker, and hear his breath growing shallower.

"Okay then," Spike was surprised at Angel’s sudden cocksure smirk. "How about this?" Spike’s eyes narrowed when Angel pulled out a pager and pressed down on it. "Send the troops in, Giles."

* * *

Kennedy looked over her shoulder to Vi and Rona, standing before their dozen fellow Slayers. "Just got the signal," she confirmed, hoping she managed to keep the distaste from her voice. It was great seeing other Sunnydale veterans again, but these were hardly ideal circumstances. "Remember, open fire the moment the signal’s given." Her order was greeted with the sound of safeties clicking off.

* * *

"Signal’s here." Xander fought back his own misgivings about the mission to glance at his second-in-command.

Faith hadn’t stop moaning about the incessant downpour since they’d arrived, but now the feisty beauty’s eyes gleamed with an infectious enthusiasm that had him grinning in return even though he didn’t share her eagerness. "Wicked," the brunette flicked her full mane back before glancing over her shoulder to the nervously waiting fifteen Slayers stood behind her. "Remember the plan and most of all, what’s Xander’s golden rule."

"Don’t get killed!" the girls chorused.

"Wicked," Faith winked at him. "Like your very own army of brainwashed jailbait."

"Perish the thought." Xander shuddered as he pulled out a detonator and flipped a switch.

* * *

"Giles? What the -." Spike’s question was cut short when the ground shuddered underfoot, the sky briefly brightening as the alley’s walls fell in on the advancing forces’ vanguard, burying them beneath. And then the next few dozen demons were torn apart under gunfire, their body parts and blood soaking the alley.

Angel spoke the moment their benefactors’ guns fell silent. "Time to go to work."

* * *

The moment their guns fell silent, Faith let out a whoop as she drew her axe. "Remember the golden rule!" she hollered before gliding forward, Mossberg 590 dropped back in its holster and battle-axe eagerly drawn.

A hulking troll, ichor already leaking from several wounds lunged out of the night’s swirling gunsmoke. Faith glided under its gnarled, grasping hands then lunged up, axe swinging up and into the beast’s prominent jaw. Bone shattered before steel, the monster letting out a strangled roar as its blood soaked the Slayer beneath it.

And then she was moving on, her own blood joyfully pounding. A hand grabbed at the shoulder of her leather jacket, she responded with a rib-cracking kick without missing a beat, the sword in her other hand slicing out to take a head.

Her full mane billowed as she leapt over a demonic corpse, axe cleaving down to imbed itself in the skull of another troll. Upon landing she was ducking under a four-armed demon’s swinging claws, thrusting at the solitary eye in the centre of its belly.

"Owwww!" Faith grunted as a stone-plated fist crashed into her jaw.

Hitting the ground on her shoulder, she rolled away from a three-pronged foot attempting to stamp her pretty little ass into the concrete before thrusting her blade up and through the demon’s foot. The demon let out a roar as it hopped backwards, Faith taking advantage of the distraction to kip up. Quelling her distaste, she launched a side-kick through the distracted monster’s eye, what she hoped was blood erupting from the eye as it fell away.

"Oh shit!" Faith’s eyes widened as a towering juggernaut of a demon raced towards her, smoking billowing from its flaring nostrils. A series of urgently executed back-flips took her back to the dead demon with her axe in its head. Her sweaty hand grabbed at the axe, eyes still fixed on the charging behemoth. Then she was yanking the axe out of the demon’s head and flinging it through the dark, windswept sky, the axe imbedding itself between the demon’s glowing red eyes.

And just like that, the battle was over.

"Bugger me!" Faith heard Spike’s snigger. "Droopy’s runnin’ Slayers now! Just how far down does the barrel go anyway?"

Faith caught a glimpse of Xander’s wince and then she was beside the still smirking vampire. "Spike?" she purred.

"Yeah love, uggggh." The demon’s smirk turned to a grimace as her foot caught him between his legs, lifting him off his feet even as he doubled up, the demon crashing to the ground in a foetal ball.

As Faith dropped into a crouch beside the doubled-up vampire, Faith saw Illyira moving forward out of the corner of her eye. "Girls, interference," she snapped, she was gratified that in a nano-second, almost thirty Slayers were between her and the resurrected Old One.

"You bloody bint," groaned Spike.

"Language." Turning her attention back to Spike, she grabbed his bleached hair and drove his head into the road. "Just between you and me, Xander ain’t droopy, although you might have problems in that area for a couple of days," she sniggered before turning serious. "Only one soulled vampire gets a pass from me, and it ain’t you. You disrespect my man again and I’ll turn you into dust."

"Jesus," the vampire rasped, "can’t take a joke?"

"From a friend sure," Faith replied. "But I don’t get wet at the sight of abs, I hear you disrespecting the man I love again, I’ll stake your miserable ass just for the practice. We on the same page?" The vampire glared up at her then nodded.

"Faith," Angel called, his voice thinly amused. "You’ve made your point."

"Not quite finished, Broody," Faith replied before looking down at the vampire. "I heard about the shit you pulled in Sunnydale. You ever try anything with me, my girls, or hurt a single person I care about, and I’ll have a hundred Slayers who’ve never screwed you hunting you down. B, the smurf, not even Angel will stop us. Got it?"

When the vampire nodded, Faith rose, the demon already forgotten. "Hey, Fang, glad we could get here."

Angel smirked at her. "Making friends as usual I see-," the vampire broke off, face paling, "oh hell. "Gunn!" In a second the vampire was past her, crouching by the black’s corpse, cradling the dead demon hunter in his arms.

"Shit," Faith’s stomach hollowed. She’d only met the African-American once, but he’d seen like a stand-up guy. "Sorry we didn’t -."

"Half-Breed!" Faith’s hackles rose at Illyria’s snooty tones. Yeah, she’d liked Fred too, girl wasn’t like some bitches she could mention and didn’t judge someone off the bat. "You had these forces available to you, and yet you didn’t call upon them before. Wesley could have been saved!"

All at once, the Old One had Angel by the throat and in the air, smashing into a wall. "Girls!" Faith growled as she jumped forward. All told it took five of them to drag Illyria off the ensoulled vampire, girl packed a whole lot of power into that skinny body.

Angel grunted as he hit the ground in a crouch, the Old One staring balefully at him, struggling in the Slayers’ grasps. "It didn’t go down like that," the vampire explained. "I couldn’t risk sending for the Slayers until just before the attack, if the Black Thorns had known that a couple of dozen Slayers were in their city, they’d have pulled back and we’d have lost our shot."

"Just how long have you and Rupert," Spike shot her a wary glance before looking back at his grand-sire, "been planning this? It is Rupert, isn’t it?"

Angel grimaced. "We met a week after we took control of W&H. In the Hyperion’s basement as it happened."

"No-one knew at our end until today," Faith put in. "Xan got the phone call, what fourteen hours ago. We used the teleportation tunnels Red’s set up to transfer to Cleveland, got our orders and high-tailed it on a flight to ‘Frisco, then motored down here."

"But Dana-," Spike began.

Angel shot his grand-childe a scornful look. "Did you seriously think I was going to give a vulnerable girl like that over to W&H’s tender charms?" Faith’s mentor shook his head. "Giles and I had organised where she was going long before Andrew turned up." Angel snorted. "Did you really think Giles would send Andrew to do anything but get a bottle of milk unless he wanted someone gullible?"

"What about?" Spike looked towards Illyria and then back at the Irish vampire. "Her?"

Angel’s eyes narrowed. "I rang Giles before I gave that public performance in front of you all. What he said to me was true, Willow was on an astral plane, and as she was the only one amongst us actually physical capable of travelling there, there was no way of getting a message to Willow to help in time, if she even could." Angel shrugged. "Giles suggested we use the opportunity to publicly display the supposed gulf between us."

"Damn," Faith whistled, "G can be cold."

"We need to get you to Giles," Xander suddenly commented.

Angel looked towards Gunn’s corpse. "I need to bu-."

"We’ve got body-bags, we’ll bring him with us," Faith interrupted. Angel looked at her, eyes widening with surprise. "Hey," she half-smiled, "this is a fuckin’ war, we better be organised if we don’t wanna be owned."

"Okay," Angel nodded, his eyes suddenly flooding with alarm. "My son-."

"I’ve got three of my girls watching him," Kennedy interrupted. "They’ve been on him since he left the Wolfram & Hart building."

"Okay," Angel’s shoulders slumped, poor guy looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Let’s get on with it-."

"I would have Wesley entombed in the traditions befitting a warrior of his stature," interrupted Illyria.

"I’ll take you to him," Xander volunteered.

Faith rolled her eyes. That was her man, always leaping in to help a woman in need, no matter the danger or wisdom of the situation. "Ken, you take Ron and Vi, and go with them, just in case there’s stragglers." And to protect Xander from the Old One, she didn’t trust that bitch as far as she could throw her. "I’ll take Angel and," a smirk stretched her full lips, "Droopy to the plane, meet ya there."

* * *

Cleveland, Watcher Headquarters

Giles looked up as Angel entered his office. The Watcher was sat behind a long desk in a wide office, the desk well-organised in typically Gilesesque manner. "Please," the Englishman covered the phone he was talking into, "take a seat." Once Angel had sat, the Council head continued his discussion before hanging up. "That was Willow, she said hi. Those backdoor codes you gave us came in handy," Giles continued. "The moment you signalled your attack had begun, Willow hacked their bank accounts and stole every cent. It was a very successful bank job."

The Watcher’s smile disappeared. "I understand you lost Wesley and Charles Gunn?" Giles sighed at his tight nod. He sighed. "A real shame." The Englishman’s expression turned professional again. "This last year has been a veritable whirlwind. Once we secured the Council’s bank accounts, I’ve, we’ve, hardly stopped. Our first priority has been recruiting as many of the new Slayers as are interested as possible and training new Watchers. We’ve considerably changed the standards, less worrying about education and family lines, and more about skills and experience. In addition to that we’ve been making alliances, finding regional offices, and recruiting Special Operations agents. As a result, we haven’t actually done much demon hunting as of yet. However, now we’re something approaching ready, and I think a priority has to be the other Black Thorns."

"Other Black Thorns?" Angel queried.

Giles raised an eyebrow. "You didn’t think that The Circle Of Black Thorn was a purely Los Angeles phenomenon? Not with the Wolfram & Hart offices spread across the world. It’s simply colonial arrogance to think the world revolves around them, but the world is far older and historically long pre-dates their ascension as primary power in the world. We’re in a war now Angel, one that’s perhaps akin to the Cold War rather than World War II, but I don’t doubt it’ll be a bloody one nevertheless. Before W&H were unquestionably the solitary super-power, now there are two. I’m sure they’ll react badly to that fact, and I had hoped to get the drop on them."

"Um, you have a point," Angel grimaced. "Sorry, I was too busy trying to stay alive to concentrate any effort on intelligence gathering."

"Very well," Giles looked less than impressed with his answer. "When you informed me of Drogyn’s demise, I took the liberty of securing the Deeper Well. From now on, I’ll have four Slayers on permanent patrol there."

Angel took a breath. "You realise that place has a way of picking its champion for itself?"

"The Deeper Well is a sentient power beyond our understanding," Giles admitted. "It might pick a defender tomorrow, or it might be a decade or a century from now. We can’t leave it undefended until then." Giles paused, eyes narrowing. "Need I remind you who killed its last paladin?"

Angel hid a wince. As far as his crimes went it probably didn’t rate in the top fifty. "Okay, you said I could have an unit?"

"Yes," Giles returned to business. "I’m sorry, I won’t allow you any Slayers, especially with your and Spike’s track record."

Angel’s eyes hardened. "I don’t like what you’re implying!"

"I’m not implying anything." Giles met his gaze unflinchingly. "In fact I thought I was rather clear. You may have forgotten Jenny but I -."

"I’ve never forgotten anyone I killed."

"I’m not having another Slayer put the lives of vampires above those of humans. Now," the Englishman smirked, "you can take it or leave it, but you’ll find the Slayers who don’t trust you vastly out-number those who do-."

"Buffy won’t-."

"Buffy and Faith are just two voices amongst hundreds, frankly I’m a moderate as regards the majority of the Council." Giles folded his arms. "I tracked down those names you asked me to. Do you want to know what I found out?" Finding himself too angry to speak, Angel contented himself with a nod. "The Groosaluug was honoured by the offer and he’ll join you as soon as possible. Detective Lockley is apparently working as a detective for the San Francisco Police Department and would be interested. Ms. Raiden turned you down flat," Giles chuckled. "Apparently we couldn’t afford her. As for Ms. Cooper," Giles paused, "she had no interest in working for you, but has accepted our job offer."

Angel grimaced, he had hoped to come to an understanding with Justine, show her that there was no need to blindly hate, but it appeared it was yet another one in the loss column. "If you wish, you can have California to patrol. We’ll resource and finance you of course." Giles paused. "I’d advise staying out of L.A., but that’s entirely your choice."

Cleveland, September 2008

Giles looked up at a knock on the door. "Please, come in."

He smiled fondly at Dawn, my word she’d blossomed into a beautiful young woman, and then with grave professionalism at the hulking man stood behind her. "Dawn, Graham, please take a seat."

Dawn had come to him via a swap with Buffy some four years ago. The two of them had had some disagreement, he sensed about Buffy ignoring Dawn in favour of first the Immortal and then Wood, and Buffy had insisted he take her. He’d feigned reluctance, agreeing only on the condition that Buffy took Andrew off his hands. He’d been amazed when Buffy had agreed, but in truth didn’t care? Not only had he gained an able administrator, he’d also got rid of a whining ninny. Win all round as far he was concerned.

Graham Miller on the other hand had come to the Council three years ago, together with the Finns. While the Finns had joined the Watcher Corps, in fact taking over their Japanese office, Graham Miller had opted for a position in charge of their Special Operations Cadre, his responsibilities including the training, posting, recruiting, and equipping of agents.

"I assume the monthly reports are in?" Giles grimaced as his two guests sat. "Including Xander’s?"

Dawn grinned at him. "You’re not the one who has to read them," she scolded.

Giles chuckled. "That is why one has assistants. One just wishes he’d have his assistant type his notes up."

"Rumour has it Faith said she was the only one to play secretary to him," Dawn teased.

Giles shuddered. The fact that Xander had been dating Faith for the best part of four years really didn’t bear thinking about. The bombastic Bostonian had a number of rough edges, but inside beat the heart of a good, although eminently foul-mouthed person. "Onto the meeting," he coughed. "First order of business, next week’s quarterly board meeting, has every-one confirmed?"

"Yes," Dawn crossed her legs, immaculate in her neatly pressed office suit. "The teleportation tunnels that Willow installed in our twenty-five offices will really help. We won’t need to video-conference anymore."

"But we’ll still have a video record to upload onto the computer system?" Giles smiled at Dawn’s nod. One of the first changes he’d made upon forming the new Watcher And Slayers Council was making it more democratic. First the Cruciamentum had been abolished, then Slayers had been told Slaying was voluntary but with salaries on a par with the Watchers, and finally he’d formed a ruling body called The Advisory Board, an elected nine-person board.

In the past such a board, always assuming the Council would have such a thing would have been solely voted on and staffed by the Watchers themselves. This Board was different though. Although there were three seats for Watchers – currently held by himself, Xander, and Sam Zabuto, the rest of the board was made up of others. Three Slayers sat on the board, Faith, Vi, and Shannon. Giles grimaced slightly as he recalled Buffy’s rage when her speeches and unwise romantic history had conspired to cost her a seat. Three non-Watcher, non-Slayer employees also sat on the board, in this case the Pylean warrior Groo, a former Sunnydaler mage in Michael Czajak and a former Buffy beau in Oliver Pike.

The board seats were voted on every three years, people only being allowed to vote on those in their category, Watchers for Watchers etc, etc. They met every quarter to discuss and vote upon matters that concerned the Council as a whole – funding, rubber-stamping alliances, and general policy matters.

"Remind me," Giles looked towards Dawn, "what successes have we had in vampire-hunting this past month?"

"It’s been an active month," Dawn proudly declared. "Xander’s team took down Sauda Kifo and Imara Hatari in Nambia. Our Central American office took down the LaFitte brothers," Giles raised an eyebrow, the notorious pirates dead that was good news, "and Thug Behram was slain by our Indian office." Dawn grimaced. "One of Robson’s teams got Giles de Rais," Giles scowled at the mention of his serial-killing namesake, "in Corsica, but they lost two girls in the attempt."

"Oh bugger," Giles whispered. That was the price they paid for this war, the loss of innocence, the loss of life, all so the unwary could sleep soundly in their beds. Once he’d composed himself, Giles looked towards Dawn. "Have their details forwarded to me, I’m sure their section head has already sent his letters, but I’d like to add my own. Have the usual payments made," god it sounded so bloody dirty. "As for the survivors, have their bonuses paid into their bank accounts or trust funds and their permanent records edited to reflect their commendations."

"I thought there was something about Drusilla?"

"There was," Dawn sighed at Graham’s query. "She was seen in Bombay three weeks ago, but by the team in the area got there, she was long gone, leaving behind a slaughtered café." Dawn shook her head. "It’s the seer in her, she sees us coming long before we get there."

Giles grimaced. Drusilla, Dracula, and Bathory remained the three trickiest vampires to track down thanks to their various supernatural powers. "How about the Black Thorns, has there been any movement on them?"

"I’m afraid not," Dawn shook her head. "They’ve all gone to ground or other dimensions, no sign of them.

That was disappointing, the first few months after Angel’s coup had been spent chasing any and all lead on possible Black Thorns. They’d slain some and identified others, but after about six months their successes had dried up. Giles glanced towards the silently waiting soldier. "And what about you, Mr. Miller? I understand you’ve bought those machines you nagged me for for the past year." Giles chuckled ruefully. "There was a big enough bloody hole in the accounts this month."

"You’d feel silly if you need the equipment one day and it isn’t there," the former soldier countered.

Giles raised an eyebrow. "I shudder at the thought of any scenario where we’d need the two military humvees you insisted we’d buy for each of our twenty-five offices. Not to mention the machine-guns, grenade, and missile launchers you have us stock at every base. If we didn’t have diplomatic immunity, they’d lock us up and throw away the key!"

"I think ‘Chained Heat’ and ‘Babes Behind Bars’ are more Faith’s bag than mine," Dawn ruminated.

Graham broke away from staring speculatively at the young beauty to look towards him. "You employ me to ensure any worse-case scenario can be met," the soldier countered.

"Yes," Giles conceded this round of their years-long argument with a nod. He might be the holder of several billion-dollar accounts spread across the globe in such exotic locales as Switzerland, the Cayman Islands, the Bahamas, Luxemburg, and Lichtenstein but old habits died hard. Still, he comforted himself with the thought that he’d had his monthly meeting with the Council’s investment bankers yesterday who’d gleefully informed him the Council’s finances were somewhere north of ten billion dollars. When one had been around for thousands of years, interest tended to accrue. "And to that end, how does recruitment go?"

It was Dawn who spoke first. "As of August 31st, sixteen hundred and sixty of the known Slayers work for us, three hundred and twenty-seven are non-active, and a further forty-seven are on the rogue list. Eighteen of those are in custody."

Giles grimaced. Rogue. Xander and Faith’s team in particular had a notable record of turning such cases around, but still the word rankled. When one looked back at it, Faith hadn’t been that bad: destructive, angry, and even temporarily insane, but not coldly evil. The same could not said be said for some of the girls on the run. "And what about our other resources?"

"I’m a resource now," Dawn grinned impishly, "I always wanted to be a resource." Dawn’s grin widened at his raised eyebrow. "As of August 31^st, there were three hundred and sixty field Watchers, sixty academic Watchers, and forty administration Watchers." That was a massive change from the olden days, all those field Watchers, taken from the world’s armies and demon hunters. "According to Willow, we employ over one hundred and fifty mages of varying power." Dawn finished and looked towards Graham.

"Every office has between eight to twelve Special Operations agents, depending on the office’s size, and every office has a combat-experienced pilot licensed to fly both helicopters and planes," Graham proudly reported.

"Excellent," Giles nodded. No longer would a Slayer go into battle alone, with only a Watcher to watch their back. "And support staff?"

"Every office has a doctor, a surgeon, three nurses, and a clergyman of the region’s prominent faith," Dawn replied. "And of course, each office has its information technology technician."

Giles whistled inwardly. Over twenty-six hundred employees. Small wonder the monthly salary bill alone was over twenty-million dollars a month. That was without even mentioning the millions they spent on their law, PR, and banking firms.

But then it was a small price to pay for the world’s safety. Any pain he felt at the expenditure was assuaged by thoughts of the decreasing mortality rate in Slayers and the population in general.

Turning his attention to back to the meeting, he glanced at his agenda. "Has there been any movement towards new alliances?" It was a lot different than in the old days. Back then there had been the alliance with the Vatican and the Devonshire coven. Now they had alliances with mages in Africa, America, and Europe, not to mention warrior orders throughout the globe, and various clans of supernatural creatures and demons.

"Yes," Dawn looked down at her own notes. "Angel put us in touch with a clan of Brachen demons in Portland, and a representative of a clan of werewolves in Siberia has made tentative contact with our Russian office."

"And they’re both amenable to signing both the Non-Aggression and Mutual-Aid Pacts?" Giles beamed at Dawn’s nod. "That’s excellent, get them both signed up."

The moment his guests left, Giles rose and walked to the window, peering down on the thirty or so girls being drilled by one of Miller’s mercenaries. The last few years had been filled with activity, mostly highs – the defeat of the Shadow Council in ’05, the Three Sisters the same year, the Chaos Lords and a Garnok uprising the next, and Dark Way Summonsers last year, but some lows too. And even the highs didn’t come without bloodshed.

Still, despite Xander and Faith’s reservations at the time, both had approached him after Buffy had put forward her plan for the Mass Calling, citing worries. Xander’s had been centred around choice, worrying if they had the right to do to hundreds what the Shadow-Men had done to one girl, and what that decision would have on the cosmic balance in general. Faith’s concerns on the other hand, had been more personal and considerably more earthy. Giles smiled. Yes, he could remember the words even now.

‘Fuck G, what has B been smokin’? You create all these Slayers, whose gonna train them? The Council’s been blown to shit, remember? Say there’s a thousand Slayers created, how many Mini-Mes ya gonna get out of the bunch? You’re storing up trouble for the future, this is f-u-c-k-e-d!’

He’d admitted although only to himself to sharing some both dissenters’ concerns. However given the urgency and direness of the situation it had seemed like they had little choice. So he’d embraced Buffy’s plan whole-heartedly.

And despite Xander and Faith’s concerns it seemed they were reaping a most satisfying harvest.

* * *

NY

Holland Manners entered the gleaming boardroom of the New York office of Wolfram & Hart, his fellow deceased lawyers in Lillah Morgan and Lindsey McDonald beside him. "Hello," he greeted the waiting people sat around the boardroom, "you all know why you’re here and what we’re planning."

"Maybe we know why we’re here, but we hardly know who one another is," commented a well-dressed yet somehow sleazy looking older man, his cultured accent hinting at an English upper-class upbringing.

"Of course," Holland smiled, "you were all brought here because of a common hatred for the forces of ‘good’ that assail us." Holland looked towards the Englishman. "This is Ethan Rayne, a former friend and confidante of the Council’s current head, Rupert Giles. The two of them are estranged to the extent we had to buy Mr. Rayne out of a military prison nine months ago. Since then, Rayne was been put to a work building psychological profiles of Rupert Giles and Ms. Summers, adding his knowledge to what we already knew."

He moved to the immaculately attired and heavily-botoxed woman in her late-forties sat beside Rayne. "This is Catherine Madison, a witch of considerable power and mother of Amy Madison, herself one of the new Council’s major magic-users. After the fall of Sunnydale we sent in a covert team to extract any magical objects or occult books of interest and found Ms. Madison trapped in a Cheerleader’s Trophy." Madison shot a chuckling Rayne a furious glare. "Please, Mr. Rayne - we’re a team here."

His tone was velvet, but Rayne flinched anyway. "Sorry."

Most gratifying. "A prison she’d been trapped in by the machinations of Rupert Giles and Ms. Summers." He looked towards the next man, a short crumpled man with hard eyes and an arrogant air. "This is Felix Post, the brother of Gwendolyn Post, a victim of Ms. Lehane and Ms. Summers. His information has come in most enlightening in filling in the blanks as regards many of the Council’s major Watchers." His gaze dropped to the short, well-dressed man sat beside Post. "This is Magnus Bryce, a talented mage whose business was wrecked by the interference of Angel Investigations."

He looked across at the handsome, supremely self-possessed man sat opposite post. "This, lady and gentlemen, is as I’m sure he’s not tired of telling you is The Immortal. We employed him as a sleeper agent," both Lillah and Lindsey sniggered at his pun, "to get inside the Council-."

"And Summers’ skirts," chuckled Lindsey.

"But although his mission was ultimately a failure, he’s provided us with a lot of information on the operations and politics of the new Council," Holland finished. In his opinion the Immortal’s limited usefulness was offset by his manner and unerring ability to get everyone’s hackles up, but this wasn’t his decision to make.

"Beside him," Holland looked towards the red-cowled figure sat by the Immortal, "is Barshon, a priest from the Pylean dimension where Angel and his crew led a rebellion several years ago." Next he moved onto the bulky-shouldered demon bristling at being sat with humans. "General Nightsteel, Grand Commander of the Scourge and brother to a Scourge member slain by Angel about a decade ago." Next he moved onto a humanoid with a horn jutting out of the centre of his head and a trio of spikes jutting out of each rangy shoulder. "Grand Master Oscuro, head of the Takaran Order, the new Council have run a relentless campaign against them." He turned to the last member, a tall vampire with the face of a furless rat, its hands and probably feet morphed into four-pronged claws. "And last but by no means St. Vigeous," a shocked mutter ran through the room, every one recognising the name of the five thousand year old vampire, sire of Lothos and Kakistos , "master of the newly formed vampire ruling body, The Red Swathe."

"August company," Ethan muttered between worried glances at the smirking vampire. "Are we to presume that something is afoot?"

Holland nodded. "Ever since events in Los Angeles, we’ve been on the back foot," he admitted, "being forced to wait for the right time to strike. We’ve used this time to consolidate our forces." Holland glanced towards Barshon. "hiding our forces on Pylea with the co-operation of our allies there until the time is right-."

"What forces?" queried Bryce.

"Many thousand of the Scourge, The Fell Brethren, Sisterhood Of Jhe, and Vinji and

Sahrvin clans. We’ve even taken several hundred Durslar beasts from Pylea," Lindsey replied. "The exact numbers are to be kept from you for operational reasons."

"That’s great," Ethan commented, "but haven’t these buggers been having their arses kicked by the Slayers for the past five years?"

Always the doubting Thomas, mused Holland. It was little wonder that Giles had lost his patience with such a man. "That is true," he replied, his tranquil tone masking his irritation. "However we have other forces at our disposal."

"Such as?" This query came from Post.

Holland smirked. "As you know the Council have been very enthusiastic hunting down demons and opponents to their plans. While that’s stifling to our plans, it has also given rise to certain opportunities."

"Opportunities?" Ethan queried, interest flickering in the Chaos Mage’s eyes.

"I’m sure you’re aware of the powers possessed by The First Evil’s lieutenant, Caleb?" Lillah put in. "Caleb was only one of The Fallen, holy men gathered from the ranks of the world's religious orders, a Protestant, Muslim, Buddhist, Jew, Hindu, and Sikh. All who forsook their respective faiths in favour of the power offered by the First. And now, they work for us."

An approving murmur ran through the boardroom, but one remained sceptical. "That’s all very well, but there’s over a thousand Slayers," pointed out Catherine Madison.

Holland conceded the point with a point. "True, but we also ‘acquired’ and re-programmed several dozen of the Shadow Council’s cyborgs upon their demise."

"In addition to that we have a number of rogue Slayers that we got to before the Council could," Lillah put in. "As well as a number of other resources that you don’t need to know about."

"Alright then," Catherine looked warily around, "then what is your plan?"

Holland smiled. "It is a relatively simple one. Simply this, the Slayer army has been a barrier to our plans for far too long. We’re not content to compromise any longer, it is to be all out war." Shocked murmurs ran though the room. "Already plans have been put into action to ambush all of the Council’s major players-."

"You can’t possibly hope to kill them all!" Ethan snapped.

"No, not at once," Holland admitted. "However, we have certain contingency plans beyond that. Namely we intend to create so much destruction and misery with our makeshift army that we’re able to weaken the dimensional wars enough so that we can pull Tartarus and his army of Nephilim into this dimension."

"Tartarus!" Ethan’s face lost all colour. "The primordial diety who fathered the Greek Titans! But that’s monstorous!"

"That’s just the weapon we need against the Slayer army," Lillah corrected with her trademark smirk. "And those who serve in our army will have elevated positions in the new world to look forward to. You’ll all have assignments to fulfil, and you know what sort of work we expect. You’re dismissed."

The moment the door closed behind the last of their underlings, Holland turned towards Lillah and Lindsey. In theory the dead shouldn’t feel terror, and yet he knew that all three of them were now filled with trepedation. "Ready?" His subordinates nodded as he took a breath and lifted the coat of arms hanging on the wall.

Energy crackled in the air as a black hole in the wall shimmered and vibrated until it expanded to take in the entire wall. And then a succession of beings strolled into the boardroom, filling its air with dread.

These were the fourteen of the newcomers, making up the total surviving Black Thorns, the only ones who’d managed to survive the Slayers’ merciless hunt. From Moscow came the witch Baba Yaga and the mad monk Rasputin. From Tel Avi came Simon Magus, the first heretic of the carpenter’s cult. From Cairo, Jehoshua Ben-Pandira, a notorious sorcerer. From London came Robert Fludd, a genius occultist, and Matthew Hopkins, a wizard who’d started up the witch-hunts so to wipe out his competition. Martin Ocelotl hailed from Mexico City, the sorceress Cicre came from Athens, and from Hamburg, Johann Gerog Faust, a powerful wizard. From Cairo came Elymas, a sorcerer who had dared to deny St. Paul, and lost his sight for it.

Not all the Black Thorns were humans, Indrik was a demon from the Moscow Office, Wani, a dragon from Toyko, while Cacus and Baphomet came from Athens and Cairo respectively.

"Masters," Holland hurriedly joined his subordinates in kneeling, "our plans gather pace. Even as we speak, our followers are given their orders."

Rasputin chuckled. "One wonders if they’d be so eager if they knew the senior partners had given up this dimension, that their real goal is annihilation not conquest."

"Their eagerness is not expected," Holland smoothly replied. "Only their obedience."

Johannesburg, South Africa

The sun beat down on them as their SUV made their way through Johannesburg’s crowded downtown streets, signs of dereliction and danger on every street corner.

"Cut that crap off!"

Xander glared at his girl-friend when she reached across and turned off his radio. "John Fogerty are not crap," he loftily replied

"For once I have to agree with Ms. Lehane," Wilson, a six foot tall English transplant who served as Xander’s second in command, commented from the back seat. "John Fogerty is utterly awful."

"Damn straight!" Faith beamed at the Watcher’s comment.

"Of course, he is marginally, and I do say marginally, better than the death metal tosh you listen to," sniffed Wilson.

Faith’s dimpled smile turned into a brooding scowl. "Wouldn’t know good music if someone shoved a drum stick up your-."

"You’d have to remove the cricket bat first, Faith!" giggled Dana.

Faith winked at him before looking over her shoulder at Dana. "Damn straight, sis."

"Well really," huffed Wilson, sweat beading down the lobstered Brit’s face.

Faith grinned at him, compelling him to return with one of his own. Life had turned out pretty well for him, far better than he’d ever imagined it would post Sunnydale. He’d left the others almost immediately after leaving Sunnydale, demanding that Giles give him a post away from them, wanting a chance to both be alone with his pain and strike out on his own.

Four months later Faith had broken up with Wood, and worried about the tone of his reports, Giles had sent Faith to him. Faith’s version of tough love had almost killed him, she’d started with five miles runs and worked up from there, but in the time she’d been dragging him out his self-destructive spiral, they’d fallen in love.

When Giles had called them back to America to help Angel, apparently Giles hadn’t wanted to confront Buffy with his and Deadboy’s secret deal, Faith had found out about Dana and flown into a rage, insisting that the former mental patient be given over to her care. That had opened him up to an entirely different side to his girl, not the tough but fair drill-sergeant that she was with her other girls or the sassy sexpot she was with him in private, but a gentle, patient confidante with Dana, the only girl over twenty to be Called.

He’d tell her she’d make a great mother except for the fear she’d snap off his baby-making equipment.

The thought almost making his remaining eye water, Xander pulled up outside the house they had a meeting at. It was a walled compound with a neatly-cut lawn and a three-storey sun-blasted house. "This the place?" Faith queried.

"Yeah," Xander nodded. Today’s mission was a simple one. All they were doing was buying some occult books for Giles. Apparently they weren’t that rare, but they were dangerous, and Giles wanted them off the open market, out of the reach of eager wanna-be Dark Willows. "I’ll want you to authenticate the papers, Wilson. Faith, Dana, you’re our muscle. Jonas," Xander looked to the Belgian former-soldier who served as the leader of his office’s Operations cadres, as he checked his Glock 17 and climbed out of the car, "you, Abeo, and Njerio stay here. Holler if there’s any trouble or come running if we need some help."

"Try not to sweat all over the books, G’ll shit if the ink runs or the paper tears," Faith teased as she climbed out of the car.

"Yes, thank you for your sage advice, Ms. Lehane." Wilson sniffed as he dabbed at his glistening forehead.

* * *

"Welcome," Faith grinned. But then she found she couldn’t stop grinning these days, she’d never been happier. She had her big sis, she had responsibility, she had her crew, and most of all she had her man.

Life didn’t get any better than this.

Faith glanced towards Xander. It had taken time and a hell of effort to sort Xander out, but she’d owed him big for all the shit she put him in through back in Sunnydale. And in the process she’d fallen head over heels with the big goof.

The one-eyed man walking beside her was a hell of a lot different from the shambling, portly drunk she’d picked up in a Nambian bar. He’d leaned out, losing thirty pounds, and walked with a cool purpose.

Ever since she’d got him in shape, the guy had turned into a freaking Martial Arts nut, determined to become the best demon fighter he could be as well as giving his girls the best chance he could. Hell, he gave the expense account one heck of hammerin’, bringing in every martial arts instructor he could find for six months at a time. They’d been taught Krav Maga by a former Mossad operative, Sambo by a Spetsnaz major, Aikido from a former world champion, Brazillian Ju-Jitsu from a former UFC competitor, Muay Thai from a national champion, Wing Chun from a multiple-time national champion, Tae Kwon Do from an Olympian, and Escrima from a Filipino master.

‘Tho Xan had originally brought the instructors in for himself, they’d all used them. Hey, they were naturals, but it didn’t hurt to learn tricks from the masters. ‘Sides, their training sessions always built team morale.

Yeah, her in a team, as a team leader no less. That made her grin too. Their South African based office was one of the biggest, encompassing South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and Zambia. Between them Xander and her had ninety Slayers under their command, and one hundred twenty-five staff in total.

Then there was Dana, Faith looked at the svelte, tanned beauty slinking at the side of Wilson. The moment she’d heard of Dana, she’d been enraged and gotten custody of her by guilting G with a reminder of her warning at the time of The Mass Calling. It had taken time first to tame the feral girl, then to coax her out of her shell, and finally get her to trust and communicate with first her, and then the rest of their team. Dana was still wicked wary, anyone who joined the team had to be okayed by either her or Xander before Dana would even speak to them. But as a Slayer, holy shit, the girl was the Slayer Spirit live and in living kick ass. Faith didn’t know if it was because of the psychological damage making her closer to the demonic essence or somethin’, but none of the girls, including herself, were even close to as fast, strong, or durable as Dana.

Xander came to a halt by the door, brow furrowing. "It’s open," Xander cautiously peeked his head through the doorway, "doesn’t look like there’s anyone in."

"This is the meeting place?" Wilson sniffed.

Xander shot the Englishman a disgruntled look. "I know my way around Joburg, okay?" Xander paused. "We’ll have to go in."

"Ya know I shouldn’t be goin’ in here?" Faith smirked when Xander shot her a confused look. "Hey, you’re the horror film junkie, deserted house with open door, hot girl with the best rack always buys it."

"You so do not have a better rack than me!" hissed Dana.

"Keep tellin’ yourself that, kiddo." Faith chuckled. "You should have seen Xan when I got my hands on him, dude had way better cleavage than me."

"Movin’ on," Xander flushed as he used his H&K G36’s muzzle to push the door further open, Faith wincing slightly at the creak.

The kitchen was innocuous enough. Basic wooden set-up, but clean enough. Not that she was like the home-making type. Thank fuck for the local cleaner and cook they employed.

They tip-toed through into the lounge. "Oh that’s not good."

"No shit," Faith muttered in reply to Xander’s comment. The spacious lounge was dominated by the three headless corpses sprawled out on the floor. "We need to get the fuck outta here."

"We were sent here to get those books, we need to-." Wilson looked around as a huge explosion shook the house. "What was that!"

"Trouble!" Xander looked around. "We need to-."

"Get down!" Faith roared as the ceiling caved in, grabbing Xander and Wilson by the collars, she yanked them backwards as she lunged for the door.

* * *

Rio De Janeiro, Brazil

Willow sighed as she stood on the balcony over-looking the shrouded in darkness garden below, the midnight breeze stroking her face. She had Kennedy, she had her office controlling twenty-eight Slayers and nine Watchers over five countries, and yet she couldn’t be truly content.

Why?

"That damn library," she whispered with a sad smile. It wasn’t always like this, the mood would only hit her every three or four months, but when it did it hit her hard. She’d long for Giles peering disapprovingly over his glasses at them, gently reprimanding them for a lack of seriousness. Xander shambling in, the goofy look on his face masking his great heart, and Buffy quipping. Her and Xander exchanged emails on an almost daily basis, and she spoke to Giles weekly, but it wasn’t the same.

Willow’s head snapped up when the building’s anti-intrusion spells blared out. Her long skirt swished around her ankles as she started across the darkened room, heart hammering. Who would dare attack them here in their stronghold?

"By the goddess!" Willow reared back when a greyish portal appeared between her world.

Who had the power both to over-power her defensive spells and force a magical entrance into their base?

* * *

Rome, Italy

Yes, Buffy smirked, she was finally getting the rewards due as a world-saving hero. Although the lack of ingratitude shown to her by her fellow Slayers was galling, much of that was offset by her healthy expense account, and of course living in the fashion capital of the world.

And of course the cuisine was out of this world. They were in La Rosetta, unquestionably Rome's top fish restaurant, La Rosetta lay in a quiet side street close to the Pantheon. Upon entering its wood-panelled room, with its wooden furniture and red upholstery, customers all received a complimentary glass of champagne. Yes, this was definitely the life she deserved.

"Are you alright honey?"

Buffy smiled at her beau. "Yes I am, Robbie," she cooed back at her boy-friend and regional second-in-command. "This fish is divine!"

The black man grinned. "At these prices it should be."

Buffy smiled back at her lover. It had taken her time to find the right man for her, Xander had certainly sniped at her choice of The Immortal. Like he had room to criticise – Cordelia, Anya, and that skank were such great choices! It had been embarrassing when Dawn had uncovered proof that the Immortal was in the employ of Wolfram & Hart. Now she had Robin though, and was deliriously happy.

"For the glory of Lord Balthazar!"

* * *

California, USA

"I fail to understand why you allow the other half-breed refer to myself as ‘Blue’ and you as the ‘poofter’. Are these not terms of irreverence?"

"Spike’s irreverent?" Angel raised a shocked eyebrow. "Really? I hadn’t noticed." Seeing Illyria’s mouth open, he quickly continued. "You’ve known him for four years. If you expect him to change now, you’ve not been paying attention."

"I will spar with him, impress upon him my superiority!" Illyria snapped before striding into their basement gymnasium.

"Yeah," Angel nodded. "That’ll work." The last four years had been interesting, no perhaps challenging was the better word. At first there’d just been the four of them, him, Groo, Illyria, and Spike, but Kate had finished up at the police and joined them soon after, with Connor finally nagging his way into ‘the family business’ as he put it.

It wasn’t the same as having Cordy, Wes, and Gunn around, but they worked well enough together, kickin’ ass and takin’ names as a certain brunette Slayer of his acquaintance might say.

Angel’s eyes narrowed as the door opened and a number of representatives of several differing faiths walked in. "I feel the onset of a really bad joke coming on," Angel muttered as he rose, smiling slightly at the bearded Rabbi leading the group. His brow furrowed as he felt something vaguely familiar about his guests but shook it off. "Hello sir, Angel Investigations we help-, ahhhh!" He gasped as the elderly Jew caught him with an impossibly powerful right, the blow catching him under his jaw and flinging him through the inner office’s glass wall.

* * *

Cleveland, Ohio.

Giles’ brow furrowed, his left hand rubbing at his forehead as he struggled with the accounts, although on balance he’d rather be battling a bloody vampire. Yes the Council had abundant funds and yes saving lives and protecting the earth was of course the priority, but it was his responsibility to make the next generation had the funds to give people the same protection as they were currently giving.

Giles sighed as he sat back in his leather-upholstered chair stretching his back as he stared at the Watcher coat of arms hung over the door. He’d never wanted this responsibility, fought against even being a Slayer’s Watcher, although he was profoundly grateful his efforts had been futile. But even as he’d been protesting being appointed a Slayer Watcher, he’d never dreamed he’d have the onerous responsibility of Council Head.

"Responsibility is the price of greatness," Giles quoted Winston Churchill before chuckling ruefully. He certainly didn’t think of himself as ‘great’, but he was determined to be the very best Council head he could be. Taking a breath he looked back down at the accounts with a renewed sense of vigour.

"Bloody hell!" Giles threw himself to the ground when the window exploded inwards and the anti-intrusion spells began blaring out a klaxon. Looking up, he saw a trio of masked men striding towards him, his blood chilling as he recognised a ring on the man’s finger. "Taraka."

Johannesburg, South Africa

"Holy fuckin’ shit!" Faith explosively swore as dust, plaster, and wood crashed onto the floor followed by a dozen figures that she recognised as The Shadow Council’s cyborgs that G and Angel were supposed to have dealt with years ago. "I thought those fuckers were dead!"

"Do they look dead?" Xander’s G-36 came up, the gun bucking in her honey’s hand, muzzle spitting fire.

"Those sons of bitches don’t look too lively now!" Faith snarked as a trio of the cyborgs danced under Xander’s onslaught before crashing to the ground. "Dan, with me!"

Faith darted forward, firing the magazine of her hastily drawn Glock into the face of one of the remaining cyborgs while ducking under another’s nunchuka swing before delivering a kick into the man’s midsection. The cyborg stumbled back a step but was still capable of flinging a flurry of blows that would have knocked her silly had they connected.

Faith glided under an elbow to the head, gabbing the cyborg’s wrist and pulling her adversary into a forearm to the face. Faith grunted even as her adversary’s face snapped back, pain from the impact running through her arm. Faith leapt into the air before the cyborg could react, wrapping her arm around its throat and twisting it back, the robot’s neck snapping with an audible crack.

Faith landed in a crouch, looking around to see what still needed clearing up. Her stomach hollowed and eyes widened when she saw a ‘borg stood over her man’s crumpled body. "Xan!"

* * *

Rio De Janeiro, Brazil

Willow gasped as a group of figures charged out of the portal. Each one of them was powerful, the magical power practically crackled off them. None of them were even close to as powerful as her, but as group they significantly surpassed her strength.

Willow gasped as magical energy crashed into her hastily erected shield, sweat pouring off her as her surrounding enemies piled attack on attack on her. Teeth gritted, Willow tried to hold her own, but knew it was only a matter of time before their numbers defeated her.

* * *

Rome, Italy

Buffy leapt to her feet and spun to face the vampires charging in from the kitchen, restaurant patrons scattering to the sound of screams. "Gee! Newflash, he’s dead!"

"I think that’s their point," Buffy heard Wood murmur as she snatched up her fish knife, ducked under a back-handed slash and sliced her own knife across her adversary’s throat, grabbing and yanking his blade away as he burst into dust.

Buffy leapt through the dust-cloud, ducking under and twisting away from her rivals’ blades, kicking the one to her right in the gut as she back-hand slashed the one to her left hand across the throat before back-flipping out of the way of a thrust to the face. Her left hand touched carpet, fingers pushing up as she reversed her direction to land in a crouch, a sword slashing overhead, so close it practically parted her hair.

And then she surged up, crashing shoulder-first into the vampire just in front of her, knocking it off-balance while she drew her emergency stake and rammed it into the heart of the demon to her left. Her sword flashed up to parry the last vampire’s downward slash before dropping onto one knee, grabbing the demon behind its knee and yanking its legs from under it. The vampire crashed to the ground, Buffy’s blade slicing through its neck.

Buffy looked over her shoulder, her triumphant grin dying. "Woody!" Buffy’s eyes filled with horror when she saw her beau crumpling to the ground, blood leaking from his left side.

* * *

California, USA

Angel leapt up to his feet, hands balled into fists. Too late he recognised the familiarity, they were creatures empowered in the same way as Caleb had been. "How?"

The rabbi smiled at him before grabbing the reception desk and flipping it on its side, clearing a path to him. "The First was a generous master and sought its lieutenants amongst the mockery that is modern-day religion, empowering each of those Chosen with a fragment of its power."

"Isn’t that peachy," Angel smirked slightly at Spike’s sarcastic voice, his grand-childe, the demon-goddess, and his son having come up from the basement gym, "we’ve got a meeting of the Harry Powells. There’s only six of them Poofter, wanna leave them to you?"

"Would be selfish not to share," Angel replied before leaping through the cracked window, lunging for the Rabbi.

* * *

Cleveland, Ohio

"Oh bloody hell!" Giles cursed as he opened up his desk’s lower drawer and pulled out his Browning Hi-Power before rolling up onto one knee and bracing himself against the desk. The gun bucked in his hand as he fired, two rounds catching the first of the men in the torso. Giles groaned as the man hit the ground but continued to move. "Bullet proof vests, hardly sporting."

Seeing the other two men’s machine-guns starting to swing towards him, Giles threw himself to the other side of the desk, coming up into a gun-man’s crouch, and emptying several rounds into the side of the head of the nearest man, fanning it as he did so. Giles threw himself to the ground as the other assassin’s sub-machine fire strafed the books on the shelf behind where he’d been knelt before firing between the desk’s legs.

The man shrieked as Giles’ fire tore chunks out of his legs, he was still screaming as he crashed to the carpet, blood spilling out to pool everywhere.

"Oh bollocks!" Giles cursed as he swung up to shoot at the first man only for his gun to click empty as the first man regained his feet, his gun muzzle zeroing in on Giles. Giles raised two fingers and shot the man the vs even as he readied himself for death’s embrace.

* * *

Xander yanked his magazine out of his assault rifle and reached for a spare. "Ah hell!" He twisted the gun around, crashing the butt into the jaw of a cyborg charging him.

The cyborg’s head snapped back. Encouraged, Xander went for his Desert Eagle sidearm only to be forced to duck under a straight right. Xander came up inside the cyborg’s defences, his muzzle pressed against the cyborg’s jaw and pressed the trigger.

The top of the cyborg’s head blew off, flying up to splatter the wall. Xander gasped as he felt an arm looping behind his neck, instinctively driving his head back into his attacker’s face.

"Oh shit!" he wailed as his head clanged against metal. Rallying quickly, he attempted to snap forward and fling his rival over him, but the cyborg’s superior power pulled him back. Xander’s foot slammed into the cyborg’s instep, shocking his rival into loosening his grip so that Xander spun to face the cyborg.

And caught a right uppercut that lifted him from his feet and crashed him through the lounge glass table. Xander rolled over onto his side, lunging for his dropped automatic. "Ahh!" he growled as his attacker stamped on his forearm, pinning it to the carpet.

And then suddenly a brunette blur smashed knee-first into the back of the cyborg, her hands linking around the cyborg’s jaw and pulling back. Xander winced at the loud crack, although on balance he preferred it was happening to it rather than him, and then the cyborg was crumpling to the ground.

Faith grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet, concern gleaming in his girl’s liquid eyes. "You cool?"

Xander nodded and smiled. "Little banged up, but I’ll live."

"Wicked," Faith glanced around the devastated lounge,

"Unfortunately," Wilson hurried back in through the door, "the others won’t. That explosion was our car-."

"Fuck!" Faith cursed and started towards the front of the house.

Xander grabbed her by the bicep. "Wait, we can’t go out there, the police will be here soon."

"There’s no survivors," Wilson added, eyes troubled. "It looks like it was hit by some sort of missile or grenade launchers."

"What are we going to do?" Dana asked.

"I," Xander pulled out his phone and pressed a button, "sound an alert ordering all the teams back to base."

"Seriously?" Faith raised an eyebrow.

"This was a trap," Wilson commented, "doubtless Xander is worried that our other units have been simultaneously been attacked."

"Shit," Faith cursed.

"It’s a worry," Xander admitted. "But come on, I’ve sent out the code, we need to hustle ourselves."

* * *

Kennedy’s feet crashed across the steps as she pounded up the stairs. All around her was carnage, her sister Slayers battling some manner of demons. However they were now beating them back, so her concern had shifted to why Willow hadn’t come to their aid.

A single kick splintered open the room to their room. Kennedy’s axe was up even as she registered the mages bombarded her girl-friend with magics. Her axe flew through the air, slicing into the back of a wart-nosed woman, blood spurting everywhere. Kennedy’s eyes widened as the woman stumbled, her companions spinning to face her. "Okay, not a good idea," Kennedy muttered as she dived out of the room, black lightning impaling the doorway where she’d been stood. Kennedy glanced up to see the sorcerers climbing through a portal, eyes widening as she saw Willow’s eyes suddenly close and her knees buckle. Leaping to her feet, she charged the room to grab the witch as she crumpled to the ground. "Willow!"

* * *

In a second Buffy was by his side. "What happened?" his girl-friend queried.

Wood looked down to see the blood leaking out between his fingers. "There were two of them, second got me as I staked him," Wood winced. "It’s not deep, slashed across my ribs rather than going in deep. You need to signal the other, ohhhhh," he groaned as the short blonde helped him to his feet, pain flaring through his side, "teams to return to base." Seeing Buffy’s blank stare, he continued. "This was a hit, maybe only we were the only target, but maybe our teams across the region have been hit."

"Strength in numbers," Buffy nodded as she pulled out her cell. "Right, I get it."

* * *

Angel crashed feet first into the Rabbi knocking the bearded Jew back a step only to be forced into a blocking a shuddering right on his forearm. Angel grunted as he took a left to the body then slammed the glass shard he’d picked up after his flight through the inner office and jammed it in the unholy man’s eye.

"Ahhhh!" The Jew threw his head back and shrieked in pain.

"Turnabout’s fair play!" Angel ignored his own queasiness to twist the glass in the Jew’s orb, remembering what he’d heard about Xander’s eye from Buffy. The Jew shrieked again and then Angel released his grip on the glass in favour of wrapping his arm around the priest’s neck. Angel kicked away the Sikh Guru as he tightened his grip, twisting the Jew’s neck until it snapped.

The Sikh leapt at him as he dropped the Jew’s limp body, catching him with a hard right that snapped his head back. Angel ducked under another right, doubling up his rival with a trio of hard lefts blurred into his rival’s burly belly. The Sikh grunted but caught him with a jarring backhand that sent him flying back into the office.

By the time he kipped up it was all over, Illyria sending a pike up through the Sikh’s jaw, lifting him off the floor with the force. "They were most satisfying," commented the demon-goddess. Angel raised a wry eyebrow. Illyria’s defeat to Hamilton had rankled with the god-king, ever since she’d seen even more consumed with violence. Five years on and she still sought to prove herself. Although Angel supposed five years was just a snap of the fingers to someone of Illyria’s age.

"We’ve," Angel wiped away the blood leaking from his bottom lip, "got a big problem."

"What problem? They’re all dead, mate," Spike said. "And next time you start bad-mouthing the local churches leave me out of it, those buggers could punch."

"You bloody idiot," Angel shook his head. "Didn’t you sense it?" Spike stared blankly at him. "They felt the same as Caleb."

"Who’s Caleb?" asked Connor.

"Avatar of the First bloody Evil, that’s who," Spike spat. "You sure?"

"I’m sure," Angel scowled. "I’ll have to warn Giles it’s back." Angel looked towards Connor. "You and Illyria go to Kate and Groo’s apartment, and get them back here." Angel looked towards Spike and then the carnage-wrecked reception area. "I want you to make sure they don’t recover."

Spike smirked. "Can I use the chain-saw?"

"Just make sure you remember which end’s the sharp one." Angel paused and grinned. "On second thoughts, don’t."

* * *

Suddenly the door open, the assassin had barely begun to turn when his head exploded into a bloody spray. Giles breathed again as Graham strode over to him, grabbing him by his elbow and aiding him to his feet. "Thank you old boy," he mumbled, voice shaky.

"You’ve been decorating I see," Graham commented.

"Ha bloody ha," Giles grunted as he looked around, some of his best books now littered the floor, interspersed with window’s glass, and the blood soaking it, bullet-holes now decorating his once priceless antique desk. His eyes widened with alarm. "Dawn-."

"She’s fine," the former soldier reassured him, "she’s with two of the Slayers and one of my men, or she should be if they’ve been paying attention to me and her to them."

"Ha, Dawn paying attention that’s what worries me," Giles’ eyes narrowed as he noticed all the messages on his cell, stomach dropping. "Oh good lord."

"What is it?" Graham grabbed his elbow as he swayed, shock almost flooring him.

Giles stared up at his subordinate, heart racing. "The Council, it’s under attack. Every office!"

Bangok, Thailand

Riley smiled fondly at his wife as they all sat down to their evening meal. As was the rule in his base, everyone who wasn’t on duty and was available sat down together to eat their dinner. This was one of five Asian offices, his particular region of control encompassing Thailand, Burma, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam .Their dining room was a vast chamber, the polished table capable of sitting at least fifty, although only twenty-one of the eighty-seven people assigned to his office were currently sat there.

Riley rose and cleared his throat to give his customary speech, nothing fancy just a few words of thanks to those who served so diligently. They at least deserved that.

Instead his gaze snapped to the door at the sound of gunfire outside. "What the-?" he snatched his earpiece up off the desk and spoke into it. "What’s happening?"

"Sisterhood of Jhe demons, sir!" he could hear the guard’s bellow over the rattle of his XM312. "They’re bursting through the ground floor doors and window, I’m holding them on the stairs!"

Jhe demons? Finn’s brow furrowed, this made no sort of sense, although they hated humans they didn’t pre-emptively attack them unless they got in the way of their aoclaypse. Deciding that could wait until later, he looked around the room seeing coolly resolved faces looking back at him. "Two Slayers to every Watcher. No prisoners, just kill. Chao-Ahn," he looked to his senior Slayer, "you’re with Sam. I’ll take the extra two Slayers, we’re going to force our way downstairs and see if there’s anyone left." He didn’t give anyone downstairs much chance, there wasn’t much more brutal than a Jhe demon, but he didn’t intend to leave any of his people behind without checking.

"Come on," he picked up his H&K 36-K and set it to semi-automatic. "Stay behind me."

Time to kill some demons.

* * *

Lisbon, Portugal

"Miss Dawson," Robson stared in disgust at the mangled notes that passed as a report before glaring at the unrepentantly grinning black girl, "why can’t you at least type this?"

"Because," the black girl winked at the woollen-hatted red-head sat opposite her, "that’s the nerd’s job not mine."

"It hardly makes one a nerd to be able to type," Robson primly replied, unable to hide a slight grin of his own. His two senior Slayers were an odd contrast, Vivian Sheridan, a shy red-head with a hidden steel core, and Rona Dawson, a brash hot-head with a concealed warm heart, two wildly different girls yet fiercely loyal to one another. God damn you Rupert, he silently cursed, for dragging me back into this world and making him care for other girls after losing his potential, Eve, to the Harbringers. He’d tried not to care, but these Slayers with their infectious energy had a way of worming into a man’s heart. His was one of six European offices, his region encompassing Portugal, Spain, France, Holland, & Belgium. "Furthermore, while Vivian’s reports are a veritable perfection, yours are barely legiable. It’s mooted that your reports are on a par with Ms. Lehane to be the worst in the Council."

"You know what else me and Faith have in common?" Rona retorted. "We get results."

"Vivian’s Slaying has not suffered for her efficiency in paperwork," Robson countered.

"Brown-noser," muttered Rona. "She’ll be doing diagrams next."

"Ooooh!" Vi grinned at her best friend. "Good idea. Always looking for those extra brownie points."

Robson shook his head. "A little more professionalism would be such an unexpected treat," he sighed, sinking back in his chair, "why oh why do I bother?"

Rona smirked. "Got me beat."

"Bedevilling Slayers," he shook his head. Rupert had long been his mentor and he respected the man hugely, but it bewildered him that if his friend had a girl like this under his charge he’d ever conceive of unleashing thousands just like her on the poor unfortunate world no matter the circumstances.

Although he supposed they made his life entertaining if nothing else.

Both Vi and Rona looked over their shoulders, brows furrowing anxiously. "What’s wrong?" Robson started to rise as the anti-deflection spell alarms began blaring out.

"Grab your Glock and stay behind us."

Robson nodded. Suddenly Rona was all business, something he was profoundly grateful of when the door crashed open and a grey-faced monster he recognised as a Fell Brethren charged in, all snarls and fury.

Rona glided forward to meet it, feinting with a kick to the midsection then karate chopping it to the back of the neck, sending it stumbling into Vi’s path, the red-head leaping into the air and heel-kicking the demon in the throat and into the wall. "Well done girls," Robson praised.

"Oh now, he gives me a passing grade," snarked Rona.

"I hardly said that," he sniped back. "A passing grade is determinate on getting the three of us and as many of our companions out of this invasion alive as possible."

* * *

Athens, Greece

"Piss off you bugger!" Crowley caught the Fell Brethren with an upswinging mace to the jaw, bone shattering as the beast fell unmoving to the ground. Dropping the mace onto his desk, he reached into his drawer for his spare Browning Hi-Power magazine and jammed it in his automatic, the fruits of his previously fired magazine littering the ground in the shape of a trio of Fell Brethren corpses.

Nikki and Robin would be proud of him.

His gun snapped up as his door flew open. "Whoa!" Shannon threw her hands up. "I’m only coming to check you’re alright, no need to get unfriendly!"

"I apologise," he forced a tight smile. One hundred and forty operatives spread over Greece, Romania, Serbia, Bosnia, Bulgaria, Croatia, and Albania. He wasn’t supposed to have favourites, but Shannon, a Sunnydale veteran, was one of them. "How are things out there?"

The scarred Slayer shot him a wild-eyed look. "We’re winning, but it’s chaotic out there."

Bernard pursed his lips, not liking what he heard. "Then let’s thin the herd a little."

Shannon nodded before kicking the door back open and leaping back as a pair of snarling Fell Brethren swarmed through it, the two demons falling back as he put a trio of bullets in each of their heads, Shannon swiftly decapitating them one after another. "Good shooting sir," Shannon praised.

"Ha," Crowley chuckled. "Sandhurst Pistol Champion ’66 & ’67!"

* * *

Melbourne, Australia

Colleen grunted as she caught a right to the jaw. Ignoring the blow’s bruising impact, she ducked its follow-up and leapt into a headbutt to the face that had her bulky rival staggering backwards, her arm wrapping around its neck and twisting, the creature’s neck snapping.

"Come on girls!" Colleen shouted, her foot crashing into the crotch of the next demon to take the fallen one’s place. "We can beat them!"

"You’ll never beat us!" roared her adversary as it threw a haymaker she blocked on her arm. "The Scourge can never be defeated!" Colleen jabbed her fingers into the creature’s throat, her knee slamming into her rival’s crotch again, a bone-splintering kick to the knee knocking the Scourge demon to the ground.

"Girls!" A voice roared in her head. "Down!"

Colleen reacted instinctively, throwing herself to the ground as she looked over her shoulder, a grin stretching her mouth as she saw Sam Zabuto and Amy Madison stood there with their unit’s other mages, each holding a fireball in their palms. The heavy hitters were here now.

And then flames were whooshing overhead, obliterating their advancing enemy.

* * *

London, United Kingdom

Roger Wyndam-Pryce shook his head as he finished the resources report. He had the humility to admit a dinosaur these days. Even Rupert Giles was very much of the last generation, although he wondered if his country-man truly realised it. In a few years, certainly less than a decade, the Council would be in the hands of the likes of the legendary Xander Harris, Oliver Pike, and Riley Finn, a change not only of attitude, but of country and age. Given the easy rapport that they had with the Slayers under their watch, he couldn’t help but think it was an improvement, even though he disagreed with the relationship between Harris and Lehane.

Roger shook his head, pain deadening his heart. He’d made so many mistakes and not just with his Slayer, with his family too.

He couldn’t rebuild his relationship with his son, even before Wesley’s heroic death things had been broken beyond repair. There were ways however he could make amends, and one of them was being the best Watcher he could be. To do his best to guide the new Slayers not with his customary distance but as an approachable mentor.

By god, he’d make his son proud of him.

His was one of the smallest offices, encompassing only the British Isles, and commanding just twenty-eight Slayers, but that suited him fine. He wasn’t a young man anymore. Besides their small numbers gave him at least a chance of truly knowing every girl under his command.

Besides, a chuckle escaped his lips, England should be defended by an Englishman

Roger looked up at when his door crashed opened, a ringlet-haired brunette rushing in. "Mr. Pryce!" Harriet Doyle’s eyes were wide with alarm. "The Scourge are here-," the woman screamed as she threw herself to the ground, an axe swinging where her head had been.

Roger threw open his desk drawer, pulled out his father’s antique World War II Welbey revolver and sent a trio of rounds into the Scourge demon’s head, each round rocking the demon, knocking it back a step. "Then let’s rescind their invitation shall we?"

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