Title:  Alien End-Game

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 chars, why don’t Faith and Cordy do as their master tells them? Woe is me.

Summary:  After Anubis’ death, a new and deadly power arises in the Goa’uld, soon earth is under its most fierce attack ever. Canon to the end of Stargate Season 8.

Rome, Italy

"Oh, it’s so big!"

Spike leered down at the tiny blonde beneath him. "Thanks love," he drawled. It made a change to be appreciated after more than a century as Dru’s ‘little solider’. Then he noticed something. "But I haven’t put it in yet."

"Not that silly," Buffy giggled in the vapid way that always got him ready for action. Well, that and a little blue pill. "I didn’t mean your teeny-weeny, I meant that."

Spike looked up, following the Slayer’s finger out of the window and into the starlight sky. His eyes widened at the huge pyramid hovering in mid-air. Suddenly flames spurted out of the bottom of the ship. "Oh bugg-."

And then the world turned to fire.

* * *

Suffolk, England

"And furthermore, Rog-." Giles flung himself to the ground when the locked Council door exploded open, wood splinters flying everywhere. Turning his head, he saw a stern-faced Willow striding through the shattered doorway, a pale-faced but resolute-looking Kennedy coming in behind. "Bloody hell, Willow!" he thundered as he scrambled to his feet. "There is such a thing as knocking!"

"Get to the basement, now!" the witch snapped.

"Miss Rosenberg-," Roger huffed.

"QUIET!" the red-haired witch’s magically-enhanced roar boomed throughout the meeting hall, the force of it shattering windows. "I don’t have time to explain! Something’s wrong, something very-," the witch’s gaze snapped towards the ceiling, her face paling. "Too late. Everyone out, I’ll hold them for as long as I can."

Kennedy shook her head. "No, I’m not leavin-." The Slayer’s legs buckled under a laptop shot to the back of the head from a stunned-looking Andrew. Giles caught the tiny woman as she fell, eyes shooting to Willow.

"Thank you, Andrew." Willow’s gaze returned to him, the power in her eyes compelling him in such a way as they’d never managed before. "Explain to Kennedy he was under my control. Go now, I’ll hold them."

"Y…you’re sure?" he stuttered.

"It’s my turn to save you," Willow’s smile had an aching, final quality to it. "Just look after Kennedy and Xander for me."

* * *

Cleveland, USA

"I was on fire tonight!" Faith boasted as she darted up the porch’s three steps and spun around to face her companion, eyes gleaming. "Seven vamps, all dust!"

"Yeah," her Watcher agreed, a smile on his face. "You did great."

"Yeah, I was wicked cool," Faith’s heart did an unprecedented butterfly flutter as she decided to do something she’d been putting off for weeks. "Pony up, girl," she muttered.

"Sorry?" the one-eyed man looked confused.

"Nothing," Faith forced a smile before stepping towards the man who’d been her Watcher for the past year and a half, since her break-up with the much unlamented Wood, and had grown to be a damn good friend. And maybe something more. "One thing would make tonight perfect."

"Oh yeah?" Xander looked at her, bemused.

"Yeah," Faith’s eyes widened as she saw the unbelievable hovering behind her Watcher. "Get down!" Leaping forward, she crashed into Xander, knocking him into the ground even as she turned her head towards the Council headquarters and screamed. "Everyone inside, basement now!"

Even as the words left her mouth, she knew it was way too late.

* * *

LA, USA

Angel yawned, his feet on his desk, his hands clasped behind his head. Business was slow and as a result they were sat in their offices doing nothing. Angel tried and failed to zone out the sound of Connor baiting Gwen. Vampire hearing had never been a curse until he’d got a teenage son. But, he smiled unwillingly, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Suddenly the hell-goddess flung the office door open and stormed in, her expression pissed. "How dare they!"

"I know they can be annoying," Angel glanced over at the still bickering duo, "but let’s not over-."

"Not them!" Illyria screeched. "We defeated them once, drove them from this galaxy eons ago. And they dare to return now!!!!!"

Angel joined the others in rising, the tension in the hell-goddess’ voice undeniable. "Who, Illyria?"

"The Goa’uld!"

* * *

Vatican City

"For fuck’s sake!" Jack Crow ignored the priest’s flinch to continue. "A 10% cut in funding? Are you on something? How the hell am I supposed to work with this?"

"Please, Jack," the monsignor looked like he’d eaten something particularly off. "No profanity, especially in here."

"I’m talking about people’s lives," Jack snapped. "I could give a crap about-," he looked down as the floor began to shake. "What the hell-."

* * *

New York

"France 1940."

Connor glanced across at Duncan. "Sorry?"

Duncan sucked in a breath. "This reminds me of Paris after the Germans invaded."

"Yes," Connor nodded as he looked around. Stone buildings lay crumpled everywhere, huge chunks of masonry scattered across eerily empty streets while iron girders jutted out of the ground, some bent out of all recognition. Corpses were heaped as far as the eye could see, the victims’ blood soaking the ground and a heavy smog hanging in the air. His eyes narrowed at the sound of booted feet marching towards them. "Do you hear that?"

"I’m old, not deaf." His fellow Immortal smiled wryly before melting into the shadows.

They waited until a trio of armour-wearing, staff-wielding figures walked into view, strange-looking insignia on their foreheads, and implacable looks on their faces. The moment the trio were parallel with their position, they moved.

Leaping from the shadows, he and Duncan simultaneously decapitated the flanking invaders before they even knew they were there. The centre man of the trio began to turn towards him but Duncan slashed downwards, blade ripping through the man’s knee even as Connor took his head.

The two of them simultaneously sheathed their swords. "They die then," Connor commented.

"They do," Duncan nodded. "There’s a lot of them though."

Connor chuckled. "Lucky we have all the time in the world then."

* * *

Washington, USA

"Ahhhh!" the first three men hit the ground, crushed under the mammoth chunk of what had once been a brick wall he’d thrown at them. Their companions reared back, horror written across their face.

"What?" he rumbled with a humourless laugh. These bastards had killed Liz and Abe, they were going to die in their thousands for that. "You’ve never seen a red-skinned, horned demon before?" He scowled. "Guess what! This is an one-time only encounter!"

In a second he was amongst them, clubbed right hand swinging left and right, taking the men down like skittles, their weapons’ energy blasts bouncing off him. In just a few seconds the entire patrol were dead. He contemptuously dropped the last corpse on the ground before striding off. There were so many left to kill.

* * *

Chicago, USA

He watched from the shadows as the six man patrol neared, his cape wrapped around him, ensuring they were oblivious to his presence. Once they were in range, he stepped out. Before they had chance to raise their weapons, he unleashed his powers. Six chains exploded from his suit and wrapped themselves around the aliens’ throats. A sardonic smile tugging at his lips, he took their staff blasts before tightening his chains’ grip and pulling his chains back, the force of the withdrawal ripping the aliens’ head off, blood geysering out of their necks.

Spawn looked up as the aliens’ corpses crumpled to the ground, baleful gaze settling on the myriad of pyramid ships hovering in the midnight sky. One day he’d bring them down too.

* * *

Colorado, USA

"To hell with this! We should be out there!"

"Um, Jack, I don’t think there’s a lot we can do."

"Dr. Jackson is correct, General O’Neill. Reports indicate there are several dozen Ha’taks hovering over earth," Teal’c put in. "Any attack against such size of force would need careful consideration."

"Sometimes there is a wisdom in waiting," Bra’tac added.

"Orders?" Jack shook his head as he continued to pace the abandoned hanger they’d been ordered to hide out, boots scuffling up the dust. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "The entire planet’s burning and we’re sat here twiddling our thumbs? Screw orders!"

Jack turned at the sound of the hanger’s door sliding open. A succession of unfamiliar and one very familiar figure strode into the hanger, the door sliding shut behind them. "Good to see your respect for the chain of command remains as strong as ever, Jack."

"Ah," chastened, Jack sat down. "Always good to see you, General Hammond. But I’m sort of eager to out there and kick some snakehead butt, sir."

The portly Texan half-smiled. "And you will. After your briefing." The Major-General’s face sobered as he sat down. "At 21:30 on the 12^th April 2005, some thirty minutes before the Goa'uld attack began we received an email from the Asgard-."

"Excuse me," Jack glanced across at Daniel, the archaeologist’s hand held up almost like a kid in class asking to go to the toilet. "An email? Isn’t that a little primitive?"

"It appears that currently they don’t have that power." Jack groaned at Hammond’s statement. Well, today was just getting better and better. "The email informed us that immediately upon Anubis’ death, another threat arose. It appears four Goa’uld long since banished by the system lords and believed dead used the power vacuum to blitzkrieg their way to power, eliminating or subjugating the remaining system lords in a matter of days. That accomplished, they moved their attention to the Asgard, the Free Jaffa Nation, and the Tau’ri."

"What was so special about these Goa’uld that the System Lords had them exiled?" Daniel asked.

"Because they were quads. Four related smyboites that feel no jealousy, work seamlessly as a team, and are even rumoured to be telepathic," Hammond replied.

"That is not possible, Hammond of Texas," Bra’tac interrupted. "There has never been even twin symboites. This cannot happen."

Hammond shook his head. "That’s what the Goa’uld would have you believe, Master Bra’tac. Truth is, this little quartet, Asmodeus, Azarel, Beelzebub, and Sammael-."

"Four of the Christian faith’s most notorious demons and all named in ‘The Undiscovered Revelations’ as the four that would shake heaven and hell, and all realms in-between," Daniel put in.

"Well that just gives me the warm fuzzies," Jack groaned.

"Even the System Lords were terrified of ‘The Quartet’. It took a war across several systems, spanning three decades, and costing billions of lives, but eventually they were defeated, and retreated to another galaxy. Eight and half thousand years later and they’re back. The weakened System Lords were taken by surprise and easily destroyed." Hammond paused. "They’ve amassed an army of approximately three dozen minor Goa’uld, over a hundred motherships, tens of millions of Jaffa, and scores of Unases serving as their personal guard."

"What does your government plan Hammond of Texas?" Bra’tac asked.

Hammond shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "The military option has comprehensively failed, so we’re going to use the supernatural -."

"Say what!" Jack exploded. "Supernatural-."

"Stand down, General!" Hammond thundered. Once Jack had quietened, the bald southerner continued. "Allow me to introduce Major Riley Finn," a man in his late twenties, early thirties stepped forward, "of the Initiative."

The young man saluted. "General, pleasure to meet all of you. I’ve read all your reports-."

"More than we have of you," he retorted, temper fraying and impatience growing by the second.

Major Finn shot Hammond an uncertain look. "Don’t worry about General O’Neill, he has an acerbic nature."

"Oh hell yeah," Carter muttered an unnecessarily caustic agreement.

After a second Finn began. "The Initiative was initially set up to combat Hitler’s occult operations-."

"Oh come on," Jack clamped his jaw shut at Hammond’s glare.

"Since then we’ve dealt with the policing of supernatural entities and occult activity in the US.," Finn restarted. "A number of these supernatural entities fight the likes of demons, vampires," Jack kept his mouth firmly shut at Hammond’s glare. "Some of them were inadvertently killed in the Goa’uld bombardment – Tru Davies of Boston, the Charmed Sisters in ‘Frisco," Daniel let out a piteous moan, "and Joan Girardi in Maryland. But others remain. While earth’s most publicised super-beings have been taken prisoner by the Goa’uld, the Crow, the X-Men, and Witchblade amongst many others, these supernatural heroes have crept under the Quartet’s rader. There’s details on these CDs, but I’ll go over the bare outline of those we’re intending to recruit. The ensoulled vampire Angel in LA, the Highlanders in New York, Hellboy in Washington, Spawn in Chicago. And," Finn paused and looked towards Hammond, "the Slayer Faith LeHane in Cleveland."

After a second Hammond spoke. "It appears Faith LeHane is your daughter, Jack. I’m sorry, son."

Before he knew it he was on his feet. "That’s impossible!"

"In 2000, Faith was convicted on two counts of 2^nd degree murder, and during her induction medical, a blood sample was taken that found its way into the Initiative’s hands." Hammond sighed. "I’m sorry son, I didn’t know myself until my own briefing this morning."

"I have a daughter," Jack whispered as he slumped back into his seat, legs rubbery.

"Perhaps a wise tactic would be continuing before General O’Neill recovers?"

"Always the strategist, Master Bra’Tac," Hammond briefly smiled. "Communications is as you know a shambles. It’s been decided that teams be sent to retrieve these champions to appraise them of what exactly is-."

"SG-1 will take Cleveland."

Hammond chuckled and nodded. "I thought you might, Jack. Master Bra’Tac, if you’d accompany Colonel Finn and his team?" the former First Prime nodded. "Ethan Hunt and Jason Bourne will be our third team. Mission targets and shedules are in your files. Good luck people, the fate of the universe depends on you."

Jack stared leadenly out of the window, barely registering the darkened, wasted landscape passing by. He dazedly realised Daniel was speaking to him. "Sorry, Daniel?"

"Do you know who the mother is?"

Jack shrugged, embarrassed that Sam had to hear about his less than stellar past. "To judge from the photo and the date of birth, it had to be Jun ’81, a bar pick-up while on a furlong in Boston."

"Oh." An uneasy silence fell.

"Is not finding out about your daughter a source of joy, O’Neill?" Teal’c asked.

Jack smiled tiredly. "Not when she spent three years inside for murder and has a rap sheet as long as my service record."

Teal’c raised a customary eyebrow. "I have murdered many, does that fact alter the way you think of me?"

"That’s different," Jack shook his head. "When she should have been going to her prom, she was doing time. No father wants that."

"But she is also a mighty warrior. A hero who has saved the world many times-."

Suddenly Jack felt the over-whelming urge to vomit. "Pull over, Sam." His lover glanced over her shoulder, mouth opening in a question. "Pull over!"

The moment the SUV had jerked to a halt, he was flinging the door open and racing across the ground, ash flying up with every step. After clearing a small rise his legs buckled, plunging him onto his hands and knees, vomit spewing from his mouth, body shaking uncontrollably.

Eventually he heard a deep voice behind him. "Are you alright, General O’Neill?"

"What will she think of me, Teal’c?" he asked between heaves.

"She will think she has a mighty warrior for a father."

"Yeah, a father who was never there for her," Jack refused to be comforted.

Jack felt the alien crouch beside him, hand reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "The General O’Neill I know is a loyal, honourable man. A man who would knowingly desert a child of his, or any child. Your daughter will understand that."

Jack smiled wanly. "You’ve read the same files I have, somehow I doubt that."

Teal’c stared evenly at him. "There is only one way to find out which of us is right."

Jack half-chuckled. "There’s that Jaffa logic." He rose reluctantly, aging joints creaking and looked towards the waiting SUV. "Let’s go find out."

* * *

Cardiff, Wales

Bond glanced around the bunker, his eye dancing over the statuesque brunette beauty and the shaven-headed muscle-man sat in the room with him, mind still reeling from the last few days’ cataclysmic events.

First there’d been the garbled intelligence reports. Their top-secret satellites had picked up what they’d at first thought was a swarm of meteorites heading for earth. Then the powers that be had been notified just minutes before the attack began that the meteorites were in fact alien motherships.

And then they’d hit. City after city had been decimated. London, Birmingham, Leeds, Manchester, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Cardiff all reduced to rubble. And now tens of thousands of the invading aliens patrolled the nation that had stood unflinchingly against the might of Nazi Germany. Conquered in a matter of hours.

The bunker’s door slid open, revealing M flanked by a quartet of rough-looking men that Bond recognised by their type as either Paras or SAS. "Hello, James, Mr. Martin, Lady Croft," the service head looked drawn, the shock he’d seen in many survivors’ eyes reflected there. "Thank you for joining us." The intelligence head sat behind the desk at the front of the room. "What I am about to tell you is classified beyond Top-Secret." M shook her head and smiled ruefully. "I don’t supposed that matters any more."

M began to talk. Bond’s eyes widened as the middle-aged woman began to describe a world far darker than the shadow one he inhabited. "There are varying supernatural warriors throughout the globe. These have been largely ignored by the world’s government, feeling they are best suited to deal with the demons and the like. But now what remains of the world’s governments have decided to use these forces to strike back. You’re to act as first and field contact for our forces. And you’re to tell Rupert Giles to enact The Pendragon Protocol."

* * *

Cleveland, USA

"Owww," Faith groaned as she awoke, head thumping and pain ravaging her body. Panic gripped her as she realised she was blind in her left eye. She exhaled a ragged breath as she realised that blood from a gash in her forehead was leaking down, sticking her eyelid to her swollen face. Wincing with the effort, she eased the lid up and blinked her eye open.

"XANDER!" An icy ball formed in her gut. "XANDER!" Faith’s voice sounded ragged in her ears. Her heart pounded as she struggled up to hands and knees, turned her head, and saw her Watcher bent face-up over a bush by the flattened Council base, his legs twisted under him.

"Shit!" Heart seemingly beating hard enough to bruise or even break her rib-cage, she crawled over to the one-eyed man, stood and looked down at the crumpled Sunnydaler. Faith winced at what she saw. The man’s left ankle looked to be swollen to twice its normal size, the right side of his face was bloody, and his left side where his shirt had torn looked bruised. Gathering herself, she reached out a tentative hand and shook his shoulder. "Xan." The Watcher failed to respond, Faith licked her lips, and shook him again, a little harder. "Come on, Xan." Again no response. Eyes burning, oh god, she couldn’t be alone, she grabbed both of the Californian’s shoulders and shook him violently. "XANDER!" She slapped the unconscious man across the face. "Wake up damn it!"

"Oooooh," her heart returned to normal cadence when Xander’s eye fluttered open. Before she knew what she was doing she had the Watcher in a bear-hug. "Ribs! My ribs!"

Faith’s cheeks flamed as she realised what she was doing. "Sorry," she muttered before releasing her grip and jumping back as if stung by a wasp.

"It’s okay," Xander stared dazedly up at her. "It’s been a while since I’ve had a girl pressed," Xander coloured and his voice trailed off. After an uncomfortable second, he continued. "A hand up?"

"Sure." Leaping forward, she crooked a gentle arm around X’s shoulders and pulled him up, turning him to face their base.

"Oh no." Xander whispered. The house had been flattened, almost as if an angry giant’s foot had stamped upon it. Where once a 3 storey stately mansion had stood there now lay a mangled jumble of wood, tiles, and brick.

"Yeah." Faith nodded. "What do ya think happened here?"

"I have no idea." Xander took a limping step towards the wreckage.

"Where ya going?"

"There might be survivors. You Slayers can take a heck of a hit."

"Are ya fuckin’ high?" Faith sighed at Xander’s stubborn look. Typical mule-headed male, didn’t even have the sense to take orders from a woman. "Fine, but we need to get help-." Faith’s voice trailed off as she looked around to see carnage as far as the eye could see. Scattered fires, burnt-out cars, and devastated buildings stood where there had once been a thriving city. It reminded her of pictures of wartime England she’d seen in history class. She guessed help wasn’t coming any time soon. "K, ya sure ya can lift and shit?"

Xander winced. "I’ll manage."

"K, but you be careful, right?" Xander started at the concern in her voice before nodding. They worked in grim silence for an hour, her shifting the larger pieces of masonry, Xander moving smaller, lighter stuff. Suddenly Xander dropped a window sill and fell to his knees, doubling up as he dry-heaved. "Xander!" Faith started over, worry tightening her chest. Fuck, internal injuries.

"Don’t!" Xander raised his hand in an attempt to ward her off but she ignored the gesture, skipping gracefully over the debris.

And stopped dead when she saw the decapitated head by her Watcher’s knee. A stunned second passed before she was able to croak a name. "Vi." Tearing her eyes away, she looked into her Watcher’s ashen-grey face. "X, we’re not gonna find -."

"We have to look," Xander’s face had a mulish look. "What else are we going to do? Catch a movie?"

Faith opened her mouth to argue then stopped as she saw something that gave her an idea. Striding over to the upturned lounge sofa, she spoke. "I’ll do ya a deal."

"A deal?" Xander struggled to his feet and limped over to her side.

For a second she basked in the man’s closeness before continuing. "Reality check, Harris, there’s not gonna be any survivors. Unless," she patted the sofa, "they’re under here."

"Under the sofa?" Xander shot her a bemused glance.

Faith counted to ten. And she actually wanted to date this idiot? "Look where the sofa landed," she patiently explained. "It’s right over the basement door. If there was anyone in the gym when whatever hit hit, they won’t be able to get out."

"Great, let’s move it!"

"Sure," Faith nodded. "But once we’ve done this, we’ve gotta haul ass, find out what’s goin’ on. Contact G-." Xander’s face crumpled. "Xan, what’s the sitch?"

"Willow’s dead." The man’s legs buckled and he would have fallen but for her catching him.

"Ya can’t know that!"

"I can." Tears started streaking down the man’s face. "We have a telepathic link. If she was alright, she’d have sent me a message to tell me…" The man’s shoulders began shaking.

"Just sit there, X." Faith eased the man down into a relatively clean spot. God, she hoped someone would feel that bad about her when she bought the big one. "I’ll get this sofa moved." Dropping into an ass touching the floor squat, she gripped the sofa and flipped it towards the back of the house.

She sucked in her cheeks as she looked down at the basement hatch. If there was no-one at the other side, then chances were her entire team was dead. Reaching out a suddenly clammy hand, she grabbed the brass ring and yanked the door open. Even as she crouched over the entrance to peer into the murky hole beneath, a hand smacked into her leather-clad behind.

"What the fuck!" she screeched as she plunged into the hole, falling head over heels down the dozen steps, body jarring with every impact. Hitting the ground back-up, she glared at the man hurrying down the steps. "Jesus, X! Ya wanted to cop a feel all ya had to do was ask!"

"Faith! Xander!" Faith’s heart leapt when Dana, Rona, and Harry Doyle rushed out of the shadows. Some of her team had survived. But two Watchers and three Slayers was a pretty lousy return for three Watchers and nine Slayers. "What happened? Where is everyone!"

Xander pulled the hatch down behind him. "Sorry Faith, but people are coming."

"So you threw me into the basement?" Faith struggled to her feet. "Jesus, X. I thought I was the one with people issues!"

"They’re not exactly local, Faith."

"Another dimension?" Harriet asked with customary geeky eagerness.

Xander shook his head. "More like another planet."

Faith groaned. Oh crap, Xander was taking his sci-fi obsession way too far. Next he’d be talking about ‘Wormhole Xtreme’. "And how do you know that?" she asked, not bothering to hide her scepticism.

"They look human but they’re wearing this really old-fashioned armour that looks like it was made last week. And they’re carrying these staff weapons that look space age."

"What about everyone else?" Rona pressed impatiently. "Where are they?"

Xander and Faith exchanged sorrowful looks. "They’re dead, Ron," Xander replied.

* * *

LA, USA

"Look." Hours into their journey through LA’s sewers, Angel temper snapped. Grabbing Illyria’s shoulder, he spun her around to face her. "I want some -."

Suddenly he was up in the air, the hell-goddess’ hand around his throat as she slammed him into the sewer wall behind, dust flying with the impact. "You dare to put your hands on Illyria?"

"Look around you!" he glared down at the blue-haired woman even as he signalled Gwen and Connor back. There was little they could do anyway. "We’ve been walking around here for hours on your say-so. And I know you can hear the same things I can. We deserve some answers!"

"You are correct," the formerly Winifred Brukle admitted grudgingly before lowering him to the ground. "Tens of millions of years ago, when we ruled the world, a race of symobite creatures called Goa’uld attempted to invade this galaxy. Tens of thousands of their ships came and tried to destroy us." Illyria sneered. "But we obliterated them, tore their symboites from their living hosts, and watched them die."

"And now they’re back," Connor grimaced. "Never thought I’d want a bunch of Old Ones running wild."

* * *

Bra’tac looked up from his perusal of his computer screen. "Your world has many mighty female warriors. Colonel Sammatha Carter, your wife," he nodded towards Captain Sam Finn, "the Slayers and Witchblade. Most unusual."

"Yeah," Riley agreed, eyes fixed on the road ahead, "well that’s what happens when you give them the vote."

Bond scowled as he looked around the demolished fortress. It had taken three torturous, nail-biting, days to make their way to the Council headquarters, avoiding both ground and air patrols. During their journey they’d seen corpses piled high on pyres, and devastated buildings, including the shattered remains of Big Ben and Buckingham Palace.

Bond tore his gaze away from the wrecked structure and to the picture on his laptop. The carnage was a million miles away from the forbidding 11^th century castle that had once stood there. "How are we supposed to find someone alive in this?" Frank Martin asked in what Bond had come to recognise as his trademark growl.

"Oh," Bond froze at a cultured voice behind them, "I’d be rather more worried about living through the next few minutes. Raise your hands and turn around, slowly mind. Any sudden movements will result in death."

Bond obeyed, turning in a semi-circle to find his group confronted by a group of hard-looking men and women wielding a collection of medieval weaponry. "Mr. Giles," he directed his gaze to the fifty-something man leading the group, "given what I’ve read about you, it’s a pleasure and an honour to meet you sir."

"You seem to have the advantage of me," the grime-covered and seemingly unimpressed Watcher retorted. "Now we’ve spent the last three days burrowing out of a caved-in escape tunnel. We’re tired, hungry, confused, angry, and dirty. Always an explosive mixture. So we’d appreciate some prompt answers."

"Of course," Bond managed an unruffled nod. "I’m James Bond of her majesty’s secret service. This," he nodded towards the shaven-headed muscleman, "is Frank Martin, formerly of the SAS. And Lady Croft-."

"I recognised Lady Croft," the Head Watcher interrupted. "My respect for her is the only reason the three of you aren’t lying flat on your backs with bolts through your throats. But my patience is far from infinite."

Bond blinked. Well that was blunt. "The answers are here," he offered his laptop. "If you’d like to have a look."

His fellow Englishman stared at him for a second as if gauging his sincerity before nodding. "Kennedy, please get that computer for me." No-body moved. The Watcher glanced at the petite brunette by his side. "Kennedy, please," the Council head softly repeated.

The blank-eyed beauty nodded before stalking over, snatching the computer and backing away. Giles nodded his thanks before turning to a diminutive youth stood at his other side. "Andrew, if you wouldn’t mind."

"Yes Mr. Giles!" the teen eagerly took the computer and began tapping at the keyboard. A few seconds and the boy’s head snapped up, eyes alight with excitement. "Aliens! That is so cool!" The excitement dimmed. "Well, except for the dead."

"Aliens!" Giles strode over to the boy. "Andrew! Explain!" The youth gave a garbled but essentially correct explanation of the Goa’uld and Jaffa. Giles’ eyes snapped towards him. "And how does the government intend to respond?"

Bond hesitated. "Step one is the enacting of the Pendragon Protocol." He had no idea what that meant.

"Good lord," the astonished look on the faces of the Head Watcher and one of his subordinates, a grey-haired bulldog of a man, proved they at least did. "It’s come to this," the man muttered before turning to his companions. "Please, lower your arms." The Watcher turned back to them. "There’s twenty-eight of us, we’ll need transport to The Cotswolds. More than just your three SUVs."

"There’s a largely abandoned village ten miles south of here," Lady Croft suggested. "We could go back, steal some cars, and come back here."

"That’s an excellent idea," interjected the older Watcher. "Myself and Robson could go with them, get a couple of extra cars. Oh, and Tracey," the Watcher smiled at a pretty red-head, "you and Camille both passed your tests last month. You two can come too."

"Marvellous," Giles nodded. "By all means. We’ll hide in the woodlands by the streams until your return."

* * *

Giles looked around the camp. Night had fallen, his group and Bond’s dotted around their camp’s half a dozen fires situated in the shadows of a forest. Muttered conversation bubbled around, a dejected air hanging heavy. "God," he let out a rattling sigh and closed his eyes.

Indeed, only God would only know many people had died in the past few days. Certainly millions from all the destruction he’d seen. Tens of millions, maybe hundreds. An entire civilisation, an entire world decimated. "We’ll rebuild it better," he promised. Nothing amazed him more than the human race’s ability to endure.

Opening his eyes, he looked around and noted a solitary figure sat huddled by a small pool. Sighing slightly, he rose and walked over. "Kennedy." Kennedy didn’t look up from her inspection of the shimmering water. Giles bit back a groan. The Slayer hadn’t spoken since she’d awoken after Willow’s sacrifice. "Perhaps," he sat down on the log beside the Slayer, "you’d like to talk about Willow?" The Slayer remained stubbornly silent. "I know I’d like to talk about her to someone who loved her the way I did." The brunette twitched but didn’t speak. "About her laugh, the way she’d babble-."

"I…I miss her!" Suddenly the Slayer began to shake, tears streaking down her face.

Finally, a breakthrough. Giles immediately took the sobbing girl in his arms. "I know dear," he stroked her hair. "I know, so do I."

* * *

"Um," Daniel looked up from his well-leafed book, a familiar puzzled look firmly in place, "I have a question. How are we supposed to find the Cleveland Slayers? It’s a big city."

Jack pursed his lips. Daniel had a good point. He’d been too consumed with thoughts of meeting his daughter to actually consider the problem of finding her. "I thought we’d head for their base," he finally replied. "And from there just follow the trail of Jaffa corpses."

"You feel that your ability to cause trouble is a genetic trait?" Teal’c asked. His answering glare bounced off the impassive alien.

* * *

"In here," Faith tossed the crookedly-hanging door aside. After a quick look left and right, she beckoned her companions across the deserted street. Her friends obeyed, a huffing, grimacing Xander bringing up the rear.

Once the last of her party was in, Faith looked around the darkened shop. It had cracked windows, a dusty floor, and several trays filled with bread and pastries on top of its counter. Faith’s stomach growled, reminding her just how long it had been since any of them had eaten. "K," she whispered. "Dig in."

As she and the others dived into the food, ignoring the fact it wasn’t exactly fresh, Faith realised that one of their group hadn’t joined in. Taking a silver tray of donuts, she strode over to Xander sat leaning against the wall. "Here," she whispered as she offered the tray, "ya gotta keep your strength up."

Xander shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t complain, but his ribs were obviously still hurting. "I’m not hungry," the man muttered.

"Please, X," Faith pleaded, heart twisting at the desolation on the man’s face. "I’m trying to keep it together, but I need your help."

"Okay," her Watcher forced a smile as he reached for a strawberry sugared donut, "thanks."

"I was gonna have that one." X stopped. "Just kiddin’." The Watcher took the donut and bit. "I saw you trying your cell, still nothing?" Faith sighed as Xander shook his head. "Ditto." Faith paused for a second. "I was think maybe we should head to LA." Seeing Xander’s eye harden and his donut filled mouth open, Faith hurried on. "I get your worried about Red, B, and G, but I’m worried about Fang too. And if we have been invaded by aliens, there’s no way planes are gonna be flying across the pond to Europe. We can at least maybe get to LA."

Xander stared at her for a long second before speaking. "We’ll need to get a hold of one of these invaders, see what they exactly are."

Faith nodded. "Deal. But as we don’t know how tough they are, leave it to us Slayers, k?"

Her Watcher’s lips thinned and his mouth opened in protest. Then he slowly, reluctantly, nodded. "Deal."

"Wicked," Faith nestled into her Watcher’s uninjured side. The Californian stared down at her, eyes bemused. "I’m cold, body heat," she lied.

* * *

"Oh no," Angel’s blood congealed to ice as he eased the manhole cover aside and peered up into LA.

An ash-grey cloud had settled in the sky, making it impossible to tell if it was day or night. Rubble from LA’s levelled buildings littered the cracked roads as far as the eye could see. The same roads were filled with abandoned cars while corpses lay everywhere, the stench of death clogging his nose.

For a long second he stared around, unable to believe what he was seeing and wishing with all his might it wasn’t real. "I grow tired of these sewers," Illyria commented beneath him.

"Yeah, sorry." Shaking himself, he climbed out into the battle-ravaged wasteland. Connor and Gwen’s faces greyed to the colour of the city as they climbed out. Angel opened his mouth to comfort his son then closed it. Just what could he say?

* * *

Du’kat halted as he caught a glimpse of something moving in the shadows of the mouth of a near-by alley. He levelled his staff weapon at the alley mouth. "Out!" Nothing shifted, but he thought he heard a sharp intake of breath. He fired a blast into the ground at the alley’s entrance, burning gravel, before raising the staff again. "Come out," he sternly repeated.

"D..don’t shoot!" His mouth dried when a curvy young woman exited the alley, her hands raised in surrender. Du’kat’s mouth dried as he stared at the beauty. Black leather stuck to the woman’s firm body, the top three buttons of her shirt unbuttoned, giving an alluring hint of her breasts’ full swell. Raven hair bounced down onto her shoulder, framing her heart-shaped alabaster face in a pleasing contrast. Full red lips parted in a seductive plea while her soft brown eyes stared at him.

"Spoils of war," Du’kat muttered. His god would be very pleased with this prize. He would gain much prestige when he handed her over. "What is your -." Hearing a sound behind him, he started to turn.

Seeing a black-skinned lovely scurrying across the street, he aimed his weapon. "Halt!"

Hearing a sound to his right, he began to turn again. Seeing a blur drop from the fire escape ahead, he looked up. Before he had time to react his weapon was snatched out of his grasp and an incredibly strong foot smashed into his chest, denting the armour and knocking him onto his back. He tried to rise only to be grabbed around the throat by the leather-clad brunette and flung into the wall, stone chipping under the impact. "Now," the suddenly dangerous-eyed woman snarled, "how about some answers?"

* * *

"Shit," Faith shook her head as their prisoner finished speaking. What a fucking mess. "So, aliens?" She started to turn towards Xander. "What are we gonna do -."

An energy blast flew past her, almost singing her hair, and smashed into the Jaffa’s head, splattering it onto the gravel behind him. Eyes wide, she join the others in staring at a staff-wielding Xander. "One less to kill," their stone-faced Watcher announced. "We’ll head back to the mansion, get some supplies, out of the basement, steal a car, and head to LA. Come on."

* * *

Jack looked at the map and list of directions, and back at the crumpled building. His heart tightening, he passed the list to Sam for her to check, hoping desperately he’d made a mistake. "Is it…." His voice trailed off.

His girl-friend squeezed his hand. "I’m sorry, Jack."

His head dropped as he forced back tears. It was scant days since he’d discovered his daughter and now it seemed he’d lost her before he’d even met her. "If your daughter was in there, it is unlikely she survived, General O’Neill."

"Thanks, Teal’C," he snapped. "I’d managed to work that out for myself." Teal’c raised an unflustered eyebrow.

"Well isn’t this cute," a husky voice commented behind them. "The question I gotta ask is what the hell are three air force personnel doin’ hangin’ with a Jaffa?"

"And," a deeper voice added. "Your answers had better be real convincing."

San Diego

"And how am I supposed to shop now there aren’t any shops?"

Da’Lek turned to see a tiny, blue-eyed blonde behind him, her finger waggling as she spoke. "I mean, there’s no-one around to stop me shoplifting now! And that’s great, don’t get me wrong. But did you have to flatten the shops too?"

Bemused, Da’Lek nonetheless raised his staff and levelled it at the busty blonde, even as he wondered at his symboite’s uneasiness. "Come with me."

He gasped when the blonde’s face changed into something horrible. "I don’t think so, Harmony Kendall only goes anywhere with fashionable men. And you don’t qualify." Before Da’Lek could react she’d jumped the 20 feet separating them, knocked him to the ground and his staff away, and was grinning down at him. "Hungry." He screamed as her fangs sunk into his neck. "Ugh," he heard the blue-eyed blonde say as he passed out into unconsciousness. "What is in your blood?"

* * *

Giles stopped at the entrance to The Deeper Well, a sense of awe and history sweeping over him. This place was inarguably the most mystical place on earth, a place of unimaginable supernatural power. He stared at the huge oak towering over his party, its top impaling the stormy sky. "Aren’t we going to go in?" Bond asked.

Giles glanced at the British secret agent and smiled wryly. "One doesn’t walk blindly into The Deeper Well. This place makes Fort Knox look like it’s guarded by Group 4."

"And yet," Giles started when a figure materialised beside the thick tree, "you attempted it."

Giles stared at the muscular figure. The lantern-jawed powerhouse had startlingly clear blue eyes, and was dressed in simple linen trousers and tunic beneath a knee-length, leather-scaled hauberk and brandished a bronze buckler and short sword. "You tried to break into The Deeper Well?" Roger snorted. "You pillock!"

"It was Ethan’s idea," Giles defended weakly. "We were high at the time and thought it would be a lark."

"You were fortunate," the stranger intoned. "Most people foolish enough to attempt intrusion don’t live to regret it. But The Deeper Well sensed potential in you and held back."

Giles’ brow furrowed as he stared at the Well’s guardian. "You weren’t here when I came here in ’74," he accused.

Sadness flickered across the warrior’s face. "No indeed," he agreed. "The Well’s former guardian died last year. It selected me in his place and imbued me with all its knowledge and experience" The warrior seemed to puff out his chest an extra couple of inches. "I am the Groosalugg." The swordsman paused. "What do you want here?"

Giles bit his bottom lip, unable to believe what he was about to say. "I wish to enact the Pendragon Protocol."

The Groosalugg momentarily closed his eyes. When he opened them, shock was written across his face. "You may bring one other with you."

Giles turned at a hand on his elbow. "I’d love to see the inside of The Deeper Well," Roger muttered, anticipation dancing in his eyes.

"I’m sorry old boy," he apologised in a whisper. "But I’d rather take Kennedy. Perhaps the wonders of The Deeper Well will snap her out of her malaise."

"Bloody hell, you’re a soft bugger," Roger scowled before shaking his head. "As you wish."

Giles smiled at the other man’s gruff acceptance. "And you are rather softer than you pretend. Thank you," he looked towards the raven-haired Slayer. "Kennedy, with me."

* * *

Jack’s heart leapt when he slowly turned to find his team being scrutinised by an one-eyed man clumsily wielding a staff weapon, a frizzy haired woman, and three crossbow-wielding beauties who included his very much alive off-spring. Before he had time to think he’d stepped forward. "Faith!"

The gorgeous brunette’s crossbow zeroed in on him, her pool-like eyes narrowing to slits. "Do I know you? ‘Cause I’m wicked sure you ain’t an ex."

"You are indeed correct, Miss Lehane," Jack groaned as once again Teal’c blundered in where celestial beings had more sense than to stroll. "General O’Neill is your father."

Five jaws hit the ground as one. "F….father," the Slayer stuttered, tongue stumbling over her rosebud lips, "but that’s impossible. I….I don’t have a father."

"Well biologically speaking everyone has a father," the one-eyed man pointed out.

"When you were in prison, a blood sample was taken," Jack babbled, his usual laconic nature deserting him. "DNA tests were made, our DNA matched-."

Suddenly his newly-discovered daughter was blurring towards them. A backhand slap sent Teal’c cart wheeling when he foolishly attempted to bar the beauty’s path. A half-second later and the tiny woman’s awesomely strong hand was around his throat, squeezing.

Jack dropped his P90 and grabbed at the young woman’s arm but it was like trying to bend a steel bar. You bastard!" the fury in the full-bodied beauty’s eyes burnt hotter than any volcano. "Do you have any idea what I’ve been through ‘cause you came and went?"

"Faith," it was the one-eyed man, Xander, his voice strained. "Put him down."

"Why the fuck should I?" the Slayer rasped, eyes continuing to bore through him.

"Because his companions are even now pointing their guns at you. While I’m sure they won’t shoot while he’s still alive, the moment he dies, you’re toast. Because we need some answers about why they’re here. And because you don’t want to kill again."

"Fine," the Slayer’s smile was several degrees south of the Artic, "I won’t kill him. But a little pain on the other hand." The last thing he saw before unconsciousness was a clenched fist hurtling towards him.

* * *

Master Bra’tac watched with interest as a crouched Major Finn tapped on a calculator-sized device, varying beeps and hisses originating from it. "What is this device?"

The soldier looked up. "Teams that have tracked the hell goddess in the past have noticed she has an unique energy signature. This device is calibrated to track her."

"A most wondrous instrument," Bra’tac hid his disdain. He preferred to do his hunting the old-fashioned way, but understood the need for speed. He gazed around the destroyed city with a heavy heart. "The Goa’uld’s vengeance is truly terrible to behold."

"Yes," Captain Sam Finn looked around, the blonde’s face paling.

"The Tau’ri have frequently thwarted the goa’uld’s plans. They are like little children when they do not get their own way," Bra’tac looked around. "And earth is now a play-pen where a spoilt child stamps his feet."

"Well," he turned around to see Riley had risen, the machine in his hand. "Let’s be the parent who spanks the naughty child. We’ll leave the car behind, being on foot will be less obtrusive."

"As you say." Bra’tac agreed. "Where does your machine say we should go?"

The soldier looked at the contraption’s readout for a second before looking to the east. "That way."

Bra’tac nodded. "Then follow me." He started across the wasteland, gravel and glass crunching underfoot.

"Hey!" He heard and smiled at Riley’s protesting shout from behind. "You get I’m in command, right?" He now understood why Teal’c had stayed on earth for so long, humans were so entertaining.

* * *

The way down into The Deeper Well was via a dusty, seemingly endless spiral stairway, its stone walls worn with the passing of the ages. Finally they found them inside a circular room and stood upon a narrow bridge over an unsettlingly bottomless pit. The Groosalugg turned to them. "Thanks to the Deeper Well I am aware of what happening outside-."

"Why haven’t you got involved then?"

Giles rolled his eyes at Kennedy’s snap but their host appeared unfazed. "Because," the Groosalugg looked around the scores of tombs slotted into open chambers in the surrounding walls, "the beings here have the power to obliterate the Goa’uld without a second thought. Obliterate all life on earth without a second thought. It is my duty to ensure none escape."

"Oh, I guess that’s a good reason," the chastened Slayer muttered.

"Thank you for your approval," the Groosalugg replied. Giles guessed the earnest young man was sincere. Indeed, he somehow doubted the Groosalugg was capable of sarcasm. The Well’s guardian turned to him, unsettlingly sapphire eyes stern. "You are sure about Pendragon?"

Giles nodded. "This is Britain’s direst hour. It is time the nation’s greatest champions returned."

"As you wish," the Groosalugg inclined his head. "Then I will take you to their waiting place. Hold on."

"Hold on to wha-, ahhhhhh!" Kennedy’s question turned into a terrified scream when the bridge disappeared from beneath them. They plunged in the Well’s unending depths, cold wind whistling around them.

And then they were suddenly stood in a vast hall with walls adorned with tapestries decorated with battle scenes or coats of arms, and a brazier burning in the centre of the floor. Around the brazier, Giles staggered, his legs suddenly rubbery, was built a wooden round table with thirty chairs stood around it. "T…the round table."

"Just so," the Groosalugg agreed. "This was the hall of Camelot where the knights would meet, recount tales of heroism, and receive orders from the first amongst the Order, Arthur himself. Through the Deeper Well I am able to bring you to any point and place in past history. Atlantis, Lemuria, the building of Stonehenge, ancient Egypt, I have seen them all. And now I will summons them from history’s corridors. Rupert Giles," the Groosalugg looked at him, "if you please."

"M…..me," Giles gaped at the presumably younger man. "But you’re the guardian."

"Exactly," the Groosalugg nodded. "And you are the Summonser. She is the Protector," Kennedy started at that little bombshell. "We all have our roles to play."

"Very well," Giles took a second to stare around the paving-stoned hall, the historian within him taking the opportunity to soak in the place. Finally, reluctantly, he turned back to the Deeper Well’s guardian. "What do I do?"

"The power is already within you," the guardian replied. "You were fated to do this. Simply walk around the table and read the nameplates before each seat. As you do so the knights will appear. When you read the last, their consciousness will return."

Giles took a breath and nodded. Stepping forward, he squinted as he read the bronzed nameplate. He was again forced to take a deep breath in a not entirely successful attempt to calm his nerves. "King Arthur." He stepped back and gasped when a towering, broad-shouldered man with a forked brown beard and commanding grey eyes appeared before him. The man was clad in a bronze skull cap, chain-mail shirt and woollen breeches tucked into his knee-length boots while he brandished a spine-tinglingly massive broadsword and buckler. "G….good lord."

Licking his lips, he stepped around the legendary figure and continued on. "Sir Galahad, Sir Lancelot du Lac, Sir Gawain, Sir. Percivale, Sir Lionell, Sir Tristiam de Lyones, Sir Bedivere, Sir Tor, Sir Caradoc, Sir Geranit, Sir Ywain, Sir Gaheris, Sir Gareth, Sir Daniel, Sir Cador, Sir Fergus, Sir Lucan, Sir Breunor, Sir Ironside, Sir Lucan, Sir Palomides, Sir Lamorak, Sir Bors de Gains, Sir Safere, Sir Pelleas, Sir Kay, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Dagonet, Sir Villiars."

Giles’ heart quaked with every name, having lovingly first read the publicly known legends of the Round Table Knights and then the privately owned and even more impressive Council records, but he managed to keep his voice steady. As he read the last name, flames shot out of the brazier scorching the ceiling. The knights instantly sat and Arthur’s voice boomed out like a lion’s roar. "Who brought us here?"

"I…I did, sire," Giles managed to control his legs long enough to step forward. He quaked inwardly when the legendary monarch’s penetrating faze turned towards him but managed to meet his glare.

His heart only started again when the ancient knight threw back his head and roared with laughter. "By my Lord Jesu! Is this another Merlin before me? A man of words, wizardry, and war! A most worthy summonser. And pray tell me my good man, what is your name and the year?"

"Mi’ lord," some instinct caused Giles to drop one to one knee and bow his head, "I am Rupert Giles of The Watcher’s Council and the year is 2005."

"1100 years!" A look of wonder crossed over the bearded monarch’s face. "So long. Of The Watcher’s Council you say? As was Merlin and fair Gwen."

"In our day it is recorded that Gwen was your wife," Giles said.

Arthur chuckled. "That wildcat was tamed by no man!" Arthur’s eyes turned to Kennedy. "And is this fine beauty your Slayer?"

"His protector, sire," Kennedy replied, a rare note of respect in the rebellious Slayer’s voice. That cinched it, to get that reaction from Kennedy, he had to be Arthur. Giles wondered whimsically how Faith would react.

Much the same as usual. Probably ask him if his long sword was compensating for something else.

"A strange accent, lass," commented the king. "Are you from Ireland perhaps?"

"A nation far further away, my liege," Giles replied for the brunette.

"Ah," Arthur nodded in vague understanding before narrowing his eyes. "And what great crisis has caused our summonsing?" Giles talked for a few minutes, explaining the situation. "Enemies from the stars. A most astonishing thing." Arthur shook his head. "Enemies from our own world hold no fears, not shall ones from another."

"Great!" Kennedy burst in with all the tact of a raging bull. "Where are the others?"

"There are but score and ten of us," the bearded monarch replied.

Kennedy gasped, disappointment in her eyes. "But I thought there’d be an army?"

"Judge the Knights of the Round Table not by their numbers, but by the number of corpses they leave in their wake," the Groosalugg advised.

* * *

"Owww," Jack groaned as he awoke, jaw and head throbbing. He winced as he felt the swelling on his jaw.

"It appears that Slayer strength is not exaggerated."

"Gee," he groaned again as Teal’c pulled him to his feet, "you think?"

"Oh look," his very much estranged daughter sauntered over to him and Teal’c. She reminded him of a sleek jungle cat. "It’s my ever lovin’ daddy, ready for round 2, pops?"

"Not really," Jack hid the hurt he felt at his daughter’s hostility beneath an easy smile. "I look nothing like Trevor Berbick, and you certainly don’t look like Mike Tyson."

If anything the hate in his daughter’s eyes blazed even hotter. "Ya think this is funny?" The Slayer started forward.

"Faith!" the one-eyed Watcher’s voice rang out. "Not now! We’ve got more urgent matters!"

The Slayer’s fists clenched tightly. "Fine," she finally spoke through gritted teeth. "But this ain’t over." Long, full hair swinging wildly, the beautiful brunette spun around and strode back to her companions.

"Bye!" Jack waved after the girl. "Be sure to come back soon!"

The one-eyed Watcher strode over , the look in his eye scarcely more friendly than Faith’s. "You might think this is funny, but after what Faith’s been through she doesn’t. And I’m in her camp, so let’s get Spawn, kick the goa’uld off our planet, and you and Faith can go your separate ways. And you can carry on not caring."

"But I do care," he muttered as the youth strode away.

* * *

"Do you hear that, Connor?" His son nodded. Angel looked over his shoulder to the others. "There’s fighting going on over there. Let’s see what’s happening."

"Let us kill some goa’uld." Illyria agreed.

"I’m down with that," Connor agreed."

A/N: For the record, I don’t think Faith should be acting like this towards Jack. I do think she would act this way though. My including her actions should not be construed as approval of her behaviour.

Bond glanced at his watch’s illuminated dial and then at the lightening sky. Not that it lightened all the way of course, there was too much ash and dust in the atmosphere for it to be truly bright. "We’ll have to make a move for cover soon," he said to his companion.

"No," the deputy Council chief shook his head, a mulish look on his face. "The woods here provide us with more than enough cover. Besides," Whyndham-Pryce smiled, "Rupert has an uncanny knack of coming through when one least expe-," the Watcher’s face paled, "good god." The man dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

Brow furrowing and hand dropping to his Walther PPK, Bond twisted at the waist to look in the direction his aging country-man was looking. And joined the others in dropping to one knee, such was the commanding aura of the man striding beside Rupert Giles. It had to be Arthur, none of the kings, generals, and politicians Bond had met came close to his air of majesty.

The bearded monarch nodded as he cast an eye over them. "It is good that this time has warriors," the king commented. "Take me-."

One of their perimeter guards burst into view. Eyes widening, the Slayer looked first towards their new ‘guests’ and then to the Head Watcher. "Mr. Giles, eight Jaffa are heading this way-."

"Lancelot, Gawain, Galahad, Tristiam, attend me!" boomed the king. The air sang as five swords were simultaneously drawn from their scabbards. "We will kill these invaders."

"Um, I don’t wish to question you, sire," Giles interjected. "But you have far more knights available."

"HA!" the king snorted. "That is hardly chivalrous, sage Rupert. Move your people with mine to the woods left and right. And watch and learn what a Round Table knight can do."

Once they’d moved to the forest, leaving the clearing to Arthur and his four chain-mailed companions, Bond found himself next to the head Watcher, the pretty American Slayer lurking watchfully behind his fellow country-man. "He’s really Arthur?" he hissed.

The Oxford graduate shrugged. "So it would appear." His fellow countryman fell silent as the aforementioned aliens entered the clearing.

"You godless bastards!" roared Arthur, his bellow seeming to shake the surrounding trees. "You have the affront to invade fair England?"

"Jaffa! Kree!" the lead Jaffa shouted, his own voice sounding pitiful next to Arthur’s.

The knights surged forward even as the aliens began to raise their weapons. Eyes widening, the head Jaffa changed his staff raise into a block. The Jaffa stumbled backwards as England’s greatest legend smashed his buckler into his face. Crimson covering his face, the alien fell to one knee. Before the Jaffa had chance to right himself a back-handed slash had decapitated him.

A pair of flanking Jaffa attempted to train their weapons on the bearded regent. Arthur stepped into the Jaffa to his right, elbow smashing into his rival’s forehead. Knocked off balance, the alien took a back-step. The king twisted to his left, sword arching through the air to take another head. The Jaffa to Arthur’s right managed to get an energy blast off, but the monarch managed to block it on his shield before bringing his sword down on the man’s head, cleaving into his skull.

"Bugger me," Giles muttered as the last Jaffa crumpled to the ground. Already the Jaffa’s blood was turning the clearing’s lush greenness to a rusty brown. "It seems that the tales of the Round Table weren’t exaggerated."

"Don’t worry Giles," Kennedy commented from behind. "I’ll protect you."

"Yes," his fellow Englishman sniffed. "Very amusing."

* * *

"I didn’t know about you."

Faith’s head snapped up at the middle-aged man’s approach. Her eyes narrowed. "And I wish I didn’t know about you." She began to turn away.

"If I’d have known I’d have at least tried-."

"So you’re another of my mom’s one-night, correction one-hour, screws?" she spat, her temper rising. "Newsflash, Faith. Your mom’s a slut. Big fucking revelation! Although," she sneered, "ya might have been useful come prison visiting. Ya know, for the variety."

She was gratified by the man’s flinch. "Well maybe I can get to know you now?"

"Sure," Faith stood and glared at the man. "Faith Lehane, daughter of a junkie ho and apparently an air force general. Beaten and ignored by my mom half my life. Ignored by her boy-friends too, least until I started to show." Faith smirked cruelly at the General’s blanch. By the time she’d finished with the fucker he’d want nothing to do with her. On balance she’d rather beat the bastard half to death, but if she ever wanted to get back into X’s pants she’d have to curb her murderous impulses.

So disgust was the way to go. "Then, when it got too much, I ran away. Spent almost a year living on the streets doing what a hottie does to get by before I was picked up by this English chick." Faith paused, hiding the pain the memories caused behind a stony visage. "First person to ever treat me decent. ‘Course she needed me to be her little killing machine." That wasn’t true, Faith told herself, Kathy had really cared. "When she died, I ended running half-way ‘cross the country, fleeing the baddest demon I’d ever seen. I ended up in a fleapit motel in Sunnydale, with the junkies, thieves, and other low-rent scum. Right back at home, really. But hey, I had fun, got my thrills off any stud who caught my eye while turning into a serial killer. At least I got to meet the Mayor though. He was a black arts sorcerer wanting to ascend to demonhood, but still the best parent," her eyes impaled her audience of one, "best father I ever had. Then after my several month coma I ended up in jail. And wasn’t that a blast, teaching the bulls I wasn’t the easy meat I looked?"

"Are you finished?" The general asked after a long silence. Eyes still fixed on her biological father, Faith nodded. "Seems to me you missed a lot out. Slaying Kakistos. Helping stop the Sisterhood of Jhe. Giving yourself up to the police even though they’d never have caught you. Stopping Angelus. Helping save the world from the First. Helping Dana regain her sanity. Slaying Zarkii and Hahn, and saving the world from Noonshade. There’s plenty to be proud of and I am." The general turned and walked away.

Faith waited a second before sitting down, eyes fixed on the gravel beneath her feet. That hadn’t gone how she’d planned it. She figured the general would be disgusted by her. Instead he’d thrown all the good stuff back in her face. And where in the hell did he get off being proud of her? She was fuck all to do with him!

"Greetings, Faith Lehane."

Faith groaned at the deep voice behind her. "Listen up Teak, or whatever the hell your name is. I really don’t wanna talk to you. One, you’re a Jaffa. And two, you’re wicked pally with the sperm-donar. So ya wanna play nice with the others, that’s five by five, but stay the hell out of my face."

The Jaffa walked around and stopped in front of her, apparently unpreturbed by her warning. "Your behaviour towards General O’Neill is most unseemly. He is a fine man."

Faith glowered up at the muscle-bound alien. "Bet you’re wicked proud of that deep voice. ‘Less ya wanna voice some octaves higher, stay the fuck out of my business."

The black man nodded. "As you wish," he replied before walking off.

"How To Win Friends And Influence People by Faith Lehane. I see a career in the bestseller lists in your future."

Faith smiled despite herself. "Fuck you, Harris."

"Well last time was fun," her Watcher sat beside her, "but on this surface? Forget carpet burns I’d up with gravel scars." Faith snorted. "My dad was a sleazy drunk who hit on all of my female friends. Well except Will, she was ‘that damn kike’. General O’Neill seems like a man anyone would -."

"He was never there, Harris. He’s twenty-three years too late, why the hell should I let him off the hook?"

"Your choice," Xander seemed unconcerned by the ice in her voice. The Watcher began to rise. Faith shot out a hand, grabbing Xander’s arm around the wrist. The Californian looked down, eyes quizzical.

"Stay," Faith shrugged uncomfortably, "I don’t wanna be alone."

"A beautiful woman desires my company?" Faith shook her head when Xander attempted a courtly bow. "One would be a fool to say no."

"Idiot," Faith couldn’t prevent a half-smile.

"As madam says."

* * *

"Now Gwen!" At his shout, the former thief rose over their makeshift barricade and stretched out her bare arms. Lightning bolts shot out of the beauty’s hands, engulfing the nearest half a dozen Jaffa. His eyes widened as he saw a Jaffa off the left aiming his staff at the electric girl. "Down!" Leaping into the air, he crashed into Gwen, knocking her and him into the ground.

The supple woman grinned up at him. "Angel, isn’t this sexual harassment in the workplace?"

"Enough of this foolishness!" roared Illyria. Angel groaned as the hell-goddess sprang into action. With her around plans never lasted long. It was amazing really, an immortal being having so little patience.

Energy blast after blast smashed into the hell goddess with little apparent effect as she raged into the remaining Jaffa. Angel winced as he watched the blue-haired Old One tear through the Jaffa ranks, her movements a barely traceable blur.

Suddenly the goddess had a pock-marked Jaffa by the throat. "And so die all the servants of the -."

"Wait!"

Angel’s eyes widened as he recognised the young man charging up behind the vainly-struggling Jaffa. And he thought things couldn’t get worse. "Illyria!" he leapt to his feet. "Wait! Don’t do anything!"

* * *

"These are your vehicles?" Arthur peered at the SUVs. "But where are their horses?"

"They work off science, sire." Giles shot Andrew a warning look. Somehow he doubted the monarch would be interested in the workings of the combustion engine.

"Ah, science." The once and future king, Giles’ brow furrowed as he remembered that troubling part of Arthurian prophecy, nodded. "Merlin was frequently attempting experiments with chemicals and the like." Arthur looked around. "We will need more vehicles than this."

"Oh bugger," Giles muttered as he shot Bond a worried glance. The regent had a point. "Tomorrow night, we’ll steal into town, and steal some cars from a near-by village. If that meets with your satisfaction, sire," he hurriedly added.

The king’s answering smile had a wryness about it. "This is your time not mine. The Deeper Well chose you as my summonser. I will trust your guidance until you give me such reason to doubt it."

"So no pressure then," Giles muttered dourly before raising his voice and bowing slightly. "I thank you for your trust, sire." He turned to the others. "We’ll have to keep hidden until tonight everyone."

* * *

"He hurt Faith."

"It’s not as simple as that, Dana," Xander gently chided as he stepped into the line of vision between Faith’s number one fan and the crouched SG-1 team. "He didn’t know about her."

The Slayer’s eyes blazed as she glared up at him. "Parents should protect you. My parents tried-," the raven-haired beauty looked down, "tried to save me."

"I know Dan," Xander placed his hands on the Slayer’s shoulders. "But Faith loves you like a little sister doesn’t she?" the Slayer nodded unwillingly. "And she wouldn’t want you to hurt anyone on her behalf would she?" The Slayer pouted. Xander raised an eyebrow. "Would she?"

"No," the Slayer muttered.

"Good girl. Now why don’t you go spar with Rona?" He smiled sadly as the good-hearted, but extremely troubled girl strode off.

"Thanks for that, Xan." Xander turned to find himself being watched by the east coast Slayer. "I might have issues with pops, but I wouldn’t want Dana to get herself into trouble ‘cause of her loyalty to me."

Xander shrugged, embarrassed by the praise. "No big deal. I see Harry’s spending a lot of time with Dr. Jackson."

"Oh yeah," Faith’s eyes sparkled with rare amusement. "It’s like a moth to a flame. The doc’s pumping her like crazy, trying to find out which legends are true. If Doc J ever met G," Faith paused to shake her head, "Tweed would get his own stalker."

"Right," Xander nodded and turned to go and supervise the sparring Slayers.

"X," he turned back to a serious again Faith. "Thanks for dealing with Dan, you did a great job, she really respects you."

Xander reddened. "She’s one of my girls, I couldn’t let her hurt herself."

"One of your girls?" Faith tilted her head to one side, a terrifying glint in her eyes. "Am I one of your girls?"

Oh boy, Xander just knew he was on shaky ground and getting shakier by the second. "I…if you want to be."

"Maybe I don’t wanna be one of your girls." Faith’s hips swung hypnotically as she stalked over to him. "Maybe I wanna be your only girl."

And Xander felt the ground give way under him. It probably had more sense than to stick around but not him. He looked down, nope, his legs were still were he’d left them. "Um, well, ah," Xander stumbled verbally. "Faith, I know it’s been a shock meeting your dad, and being invaded by aliens, but you shouldn’t rush into anything."

"I wanted ya before this shit went down." Xander blinked. "Question is," desperation flickered in the Slayer’s dark orbs, "do ya want me?"

"Faith, you’re the most amazing, most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, of course I want you."

Faith smirked, a familiar cockiness returning to her eyes. "Sealed with a kiss." Taking his head in her hands, the sexy Bostonian pulled him down and pressed their lips together. The last time they’d kissed had been hot and passionate, but this time it was slow and tender, the beauty’s soft tongue exploring his mouth, her strong yet gentle hands caressing his face. Finally the young woman pulled away with a wink. "I don’t think any local restaurants are open so we’ll have to wait on that first date."

* * *

Illyria glared up at the flailing alien. "No servant of the Goa’uld should be suffered to live."

"Illyria!" she turned to see a stranger approaching, hands held out in supplication. "Master Bra’tac has renounced the Goa’uld as false gods whose majesty cannot compare to you."

"You speak honeyed words, but," Illyria tossed the wheezing alien aside, "I find that I like them."

"Riley, what are you doing here?" Illyria glanced towards the vampire who fancied himself as their leader.

"Angel." Illyria smiled at the chill in the man’s voice. "I’m here as a representative of the Initiative," the vampire groaned. "We’re currently gathering together the nation’s supernatural forces for a strike back." The soldier paused. "Another team is picking up Faith." Angel nodded and turned away only to stop at the soldier’s voice. "Buffy’s house was in the direct line of fire of one of the motherships. The Italian agents that were watching her for when Spike went rogue again haven’t reported in. She’s dead, Angel."

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