"I should go with you," Kennedy insisted.

Giles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Bloody Slayers, it seemed pig-headedness was a trait in every single bleedin’ one of them. "My dear girl," he starchy replied, "I’m quite capable of looking after myself."

The diminutive beauty glared up truculently. "The Groosalugg," the heiress thumbed over her shoulder towards the Deeper Well, "said I was your Protector!" Giles opened his mouth in a protest. "Willow would want me to protect you."

Ah, Giles grimaced, a woman’s most potent weapon, emotional blackmail. Bugger, he was only a mere man and as such totally defenceless. "Very well," he grumpily conceded. He was momentarily dazzled by the heiress’ smile. "You’ll drive down with me, then grab a car, and drive back on your own. Who do you want to lead the Slayers in your absence?"

"Athena," was the unsurprising reply. Not only was the Greek Slayer Kennedy’s best Slayer friend, she was the second oldest, and a fellow Council-discovered Potential, meaning her training was not in doubt.

"Very well," Giles nodded. "Then go and tell her." The young woman turned away. "And Kennedy?" The beautiful brunette stared enquiringly at him. "Thank you. Willow would be extremely touched by your loyalty."

The journey to the near-by village was a nail-biting affair. They’d driven through the narrow, winding country lanes leading to it without lights for fear of alerting enemy patrols, eyes straining through the darkness. Twice they’d been forced to pull over as Death Gliders flew overhead.

Upon reaching the village Giles parked up outside just the sort of country pub he’d have loved to spend an afternoon in. If Andrew would leave him alone for long enough of course. Smartsville was a typically rustic country village, complete with thatched roofed cottages, carefully-tended gardens, and even a communal green. He shook his head as he climbed out.

"What’s wrong?"

Giles started at his companion’s whisper. In the village’s dark silence it was easy to forget he wasn’t alone. He looked towards his companion. "I was just thinking that even if we win, nothing will ever be the same again."

"When we win we’ll just have to make everything better than it was."

Giles smiled slightly at the Slayer’s spirited reply. "Quite right, dear," he murmured before turning to the other cars’ occupants. "We’ll need SUVs or People Carriers, spread out, but stay in eye range of your partners."

It took almost half an hour and him breaking into four garages to find a suitable car, a dark green, 3 year old People Carrier. "Excellent," Giles beamed.

"Jaffa, kree!"

"Oh bugger." Giles started to turn to face the quintet of aliens behind them, hands rising in supplication.

Before he could order her not to, the always reckless Slayer was blurring into action, drawing her two knives and flinging them at the two nearest Jaffas. Both knives thudded into the invaders’ throats, but the second got off a shot that seared into the beauty’s chest, twisting her around and sending her crashing to the ground like a puppet’s whose strings had been cut. "Yooooowwww!"

"Bastards!" All thoughts of biding his time fled at the Slayer’s screech. Leaping forward, he cannoned a left hook into the nearest Jaffa’s mouth. Even as he drew back to slam a follow-up right cross into the alien’s mouth, a pain exploded in the back of his head.

Head swimming, he stumbled down to one knee. Before he had chance to react, the staff weapon crashed into the back of his head again and he fell forward, face bouncing off the wet tarmac.

* * *

Faith grinned as she watched Xander joke with Dana and Rona. He was so damn good with them, so caring. And, her smirk widened, he was hers. A for real great guy, nothing fancy, not rich, or wicked smart, or movie-star handsome, but a decent man who tried his hardest by the people he cared for. Damn, she was so sick of strutting assholes who thought the best way to get a chick was by treating her like shit.

Her smirk faded as she remembered the last two days, the frantic journey to Chicago to find Spawn. There had been more than the occasional close call with Jaffa land and air patrols, but that tension had been nothing next to being cooped up with her pop having to restrain her urge to punch her fist through his face while he stared at her like he was a desert nomad and she was an oasis. If the fucker was looking for salvation, she sure as hell wasn’t gonna play ball.

"I saw you kissing Xander before."

"Oh for fuck’s sake," Faith muttered under her breath. First pops, then his best friend, and now his main squeeze. Who next? His freakin’ Sunday School teacher? Faith didn’t bother to turn towards the blonde. "Look," she drawled. "I had enough wicked step-fathers growing up. I really don’t need a wicked step-mon now I’m all woman sized."

"General O’Neill is a fine man," the older woman didn’t miss a beat at Faith’s faked yawn. "All he needs is a chance. He’s really hurting -."

"He’s really hurting?" Faith spun to face the Colonel, the last of her patience evaporating. "He’s really hurting?" Faith jabbed a finger in the other woman’s face. "What about all the Christmases and birthdays he wasn’t there for? What about all the times the other kids laughed at me for not having a pop? What about all the times I thought I was the most alone person in the world? What about all the times he should have been there to protect me!" Faith finished with a scream. Why did this happen now? Why not twenty years ago when she needed him? "You stay the fuck out of my way unless," she snatched the shocked soldier’s P90 out of her hands, "ya want this shoving up your ass!" Realising that everyone was looking at her, she dropped the gun at the other woman’s feet, and looked challengingly around, her gaze stopping at her biological father. "You, you’re a fuckin’ sperm-donor and that’s it! Ya ain’t got any claim on me," she looked over to Xander and the others. "They’re my family, not you. And I don’t want any more family, ‘specially those who turn up two decades too late. Once this is over, I see ya again, it’s the beating of your life as a receipt for all the stuff you weren’t there for."

* * *

"Who is this Buffy?" Illyria demanded.

Connor shrugged. "A Slayer dad dated before Cordelia. Dad talks about her, but I zone out. Listening to him talk about her is the greatest known cure for insomnia," the hybrid shrugged again. "Seen photos, okay I suppose, but not a patch on Cordelia."

"And this Riley?" Illyria continued. "Who is he?"

Connor looked towards the apparently military officer. "That I don’t know," the vampire’s offspring admitted.

Illyria stalked over to the vampire slouched against a half-destroyed wall. "Your grief flows off you like a waterfall," she snapped. "Build a memorial to your mate with the bodies of your victims."

The half-breed briefly changed to his demonic face before straightening and nodding. "Yeah," he agreed. "That sounds like a plan. Riley, let’s go!"

* * *

Kennedy groaned as she awoke, soft fingers trailing down her face. "Are you alright?" Lady Croft whispered.

For a second luxuriated in the beautiful woman’s touch. And then she jerked as she flashed back to the fight. "Giles?" she frantically looked around as she struggled to a sat position.

Frank Martin crouched down beside Lady Croft. "We thought you split up?"

"No." Kennedy’s eyes widened as realisation hit. "We need to find him and fast!"

Kennedy tried to struggle to her feet, but although her wound had already begun to heal, Martin was able to place his hands on her shoulders and force her weakened body back down. The shaven-headed man stared down at her, apparently unfazed by her wilting stare. "We need to get you some medical treatment. If you weren’t a Slayer, you’d probably be dead or dying." Kennedy’s protests were ignored as the man humiliatingly scooped her into his arms and carried her into the waiting vehicle.

The journey back to the others was a grim affair. Every twist and turn of the country road sent waves of pain crashing through her, but the physical hurt was unimportant next to the crushing knowledge she’d failed Willow.

By the time their convoy reached their base her physical pain had eased but her guilt had changed to a deep despondency. She allowed herself to be helped but not carried out of the car by a solicitous Lady Croft.

The king strode into view, Galahad and Lancelot flanking him as always. The monarch looked around. "Such marvellous ve-." Kennedy had to resist flinching when the legend’s eyes hardened. "Where is sage Rupert?"

"I…I lost him," Kennedy stutteringly admitted.

"Lost him?" Arthur’s sword hissed as he drew it. "You were attacked?" Too intimidated by the legendary monarch and guilt-ridden by her failure to speak, Kennedy could only manage a nod. "And yet he lives!"

"How do you know?" Bond demanded, the secret agent’s tone clearly sceptical, even as her eyes shot up to stare at the centuries-old regent.

Arthur’s eyes snapped to the British spy. "He is my summonser, I would know it it was otherwise." The king turned his searching gaze back to her, eyes boring into her soul. "Will you join us in searching for the man you are foresworn to protect?"

"We have our orders-."

"Orders!" The monarch cut off Bond with an impatient shake of his head. "Orders are unimportant next to the principles I built my kingdom on, the virtues of honour and loyalty." Again the legendary warrior turned to her. "Will you join us?" Kennedy nodded. "Ah," the king smiled. "You have spirit, lass. You remind me of fair Gwen. Come, we will march now!"

"Uh," Kennedy raised a hesitant hand. "We could take the car?"

* * *

"Maybe I should speak to her?"

Jack didn’t bother to look up from his console at Daniel’s suggestion. He didn’t have to ask who ‘her’ was. "You’re a great negotiator, Daniel, but you’d have more joy brokering a Tok’Ra – Goa’uld treaty."

"Maybe if you give her time…"

"Time?" Jack turned to his friend. "She’s had plenty of that. Twenty-three years of it to build up a big hate for me."

They turned to the left at the sound of gravel crunching. Jack looked up from his seat to see his daughter’s Watcher and apparently new boyfriend staring down frostily. Jack winced. Just how much had the one-eyed man heard?

"We’re heading for the suburbs he was known to patrol and looking for signs of him attacking Jaffa patrols," Daniel replied in his trademark reasonable tone.

Which failed to defrost the one-eyed man’s gaze in the slightest. "That’s it?" he demanded. Jack nodded. The young man shook his head and snorted. "American military strategising in action. Gotta love it!" the youth turned on his heel and walked off.

Daniel looked expectantly at him. "What?" Jack snapped. The archaeologist looked towards the departing man. "I don’t suppose I’ll get any peace otherwise. And for the record, I hope you’re not going to nag like this when we’re married!" Sighing slightly, he rose and hurried after the younger man, while all the time wondering what he was going to say. Finally he settled on banal praise. "Your record as a demon hunter is very impressive, especially considering your lack of formal training or special powers."

"Look," the young man turned to face him, his face older than anyone his age should be. "I’ve had enough of people trying to use me to get what they want. Faith’s my Slayer," a look of wonder flickered across the Sunnydaler’s face, "my girl. If she doesn’t want you, then what she says goes. And if," Jack had to stop himself from flinching when the younger man’s eye blazed, "you hurt her, your tame Jaffa, the whole air force, hell the entire military won’t be able to stop me dismembering you."

"Damn it," Jack muttered as the young man turned and walked away. "I don’t want to hurt her. I just want to get to know her."

* * *

"This prison ship," Angel spoke distractedly, just wanting to keep his mind off the hollow pain inside him. "Why do the goa’uld use this for all the super-powered types? They don’t seem the merciful type." Angel cast a look out of the window, staring bleakly at the crushed buildings, scattered fires, and corpses littering the wasteland. "And logically speaking, these people are the sort you’d kill first, not keep alive."

His question was directed at Riley but it Master Bra’tac who answered. "You are correct," the pock-marked Jaffa replied. "A wise warrior slays their most powerful opposition at the start of the battle, when they themselves are at the strongest. But the goa’uld are an arrogant people, and a parasite race that are constantly searching for better, stronger hosts. They will doubtless be experimenting on your world’s heroes to see if there is anyway they can be made suitable for implantation, utilising their powers without losing control they crave."

Giles groaned as he awoke. It took him a few pained moments to focus. When he did, he profoundly wished he hadn’t gone to the effort. He was in an oval-shaped, high-roofed room, manacled by his wrists and ankles to a steel-cold crucifix, facing a Jaffa with a gold sigil on his forehead.

"I am Axtro, First Prime Of Sammael," the tall, gaunt Jaffa proudly announced.

"And I’m Rupert Giles," he tried and failed to shrug. "I’d shake your hand only I’m somewhat encumbered. You understand."

The alien ignored his comment. "We find mention in your government records of a Watcher’s Council. We don’t understand what this is, but we know you are considered important. As a result, you are on a list-."

"Ah, I’d watch yourself if I was you," he warned. "We had a chap a few decades ago who thought it fit to put people on lists, he came to a very bad end."

Again it was if he hadn’t spoken. "You will be transported to our lord’s prison ship."

"Sounds delightful. To quote a number of extremely annoying Californians of my acquaintance ‘can I take a rain check?’."

"And you will be tortured."

"What, a few days on earth and you already have a collection of Buck’s Fizz’s records?" Giles shook his head and tutted. "For an all-conquering invader, your priorities are sadly skewed."

"Soon your jests will be replaced by screams," the alien promised before turning on his heel and striding off.

"Bet he gets invited to a lot of parties," Giles riposted even as a dead feeling formed in his stomach. Last time he’d been in a situation this problematic, Angelus had been involved. And wasn’t that a memory to keep one warm in the dark moments.

* * *

"Does she make you happy?"

Riley started at the voice behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see the demon silhouetted in the darkness behind him. "Sam? Yes, she makes me happy."

"You’re lucky," a melancholy look flickered across the vampire’s face. "It seems I lose everyone I love – Doyle, Cordelia, Fred, Wesley, Gunn, and now Buffy."

"You still have him," Riley nodded towards Connor stood beside the truck talking to Gwen.

"Aye," the vampire smiled and nodded. "I have him." The smile was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "What’s the plan when we meet up with Faith and the others?"

"Faith’s being hunted down by General Jack O’Neill and his team, legends who’ve saved this world about ten times in the past decade," Angel raised an eyebrow at his revelation. "Our plan is to gather our forces, hit the prison ship, free the captives, and start a rebellion with those forces."

"Sounds a bit sketchy to me," the vampire commented.

"Have you got any better ideas?" he challenged.

"No, doesn’t mean it’s a good idea though." The vampire shrugged as if conceding the point, at least for now. "Why these champions and not me?"

Riley chuckled, genuinely amused by the vampire’s question. "Feeling left out, Angel?" he chuckled again before shaking his head. "It’s not a question of worthiness. It’s a question of publicity. The existence of vampires, Slayers, has never been acknowledged by the world’s governments or publicised widely in the reputable media. The theory is that the goa’uld watched our transmissions from space, all the heroes made us a juicy target. Those who flew under the public’s radar were either inadvertently killed in the first wave of attacks like Buffy, Tru Davies, and the Charmed Ones, or are being rounded up by us for this counter-attack."

"Well that answers a few questions anyway."

Riley heard Angel’s shocked gasp at being caught unawares. The demon joined him in spinning around to face a powerfully-built, grim-faced African-American. "Who are you?" Angel demanded a second before he could, the vampire’s voice hoarse with tension.

"Name’s Blade," the muscular black chuckled at their shocked reaction. "Relax, vampire. I’m not here to kill you, I’d come to LA to check if the rumours about you were true. As they were, I was about to leave when the attacks began."

"And now?" Connor demanded, Riley noted the others had walked up to surround them in a protective half-circle.

Blade half-smiled. "Now, you have another team member."

* * *

Jack O’Neill looked left and right as he led his patrol through another ruined part of the Windy City. His heart tore as he noticed the once proud buildings turned to rubble even as he also registered and rejoiced the broken bodies of Jaffa littering the ground. Something bad, something very bad had obviously torn through them.

After another look around, he crouched down behind a huge chunk of fallen masonry and glanced over his shoulder. "Teal’c?"

"These bodies fell less than half a day ago," Teal’c announced before looking up, "they were not killed by any weapon I reco-."

A pile of rubble to their left exploded upwards, a figure dressed entirely in midnight black armour bursting out of it. Tentacles shot out of the creature’s armour before any of them had chance to react, shooting towards them. Jack gasped as one of the tendrils smashed into his chest, knocking him onto his back.

Dazed, he could only manage to look around to see the figure that he presumed to be Spawn had done the same to the rest of them, excepting Teal’c who he held in the air, tentacle wrapped around his throat, the alien’s muscles fruitlessly at the restraint. "A Jaffa with humans, interesting. I’ll-."

"Hey dumbass!" The creature’s head snapped back when a rock thudded against the side. "Love the tentacles and everything, they could come in wicked handy in the bedroom, but Jesus, you’re not too bright are you? The fact he’s with humans not clue you in?" His daughter strutted in front of the demon, an unfazed look on her beautiful face. "Hey, I could give a shit about him," Faith thumbed at Teal’c. "That dumbass is best buds with just about the biggest asshole I know. But he ain’t on the bad guys’ side. So, as a fellow redemption seeker, I gotta tell ya, killing him is the wrong thing to do."

Spawn chuckled. "You amuse me, girl."

"Yeah, I’m a regular gag reel," Faith looked towards Teal’c. "Ya gonna put him down?"

"Always been a sucker for a pretty face," Spawn replied before dropping Teal’c to the ground. "Who are you folks?"

"It appears Faith’s got your way with words and love of diplomacy," Daniel commented as he gingerly rose. "Must be genetic."

"That’s my team, the Three Stooges of space exploration," Jack grunted.

* * *

"Is it your wound or your loss of sage Rupert that ails you, lass?"

Kennedy started at the deep voice beside her. She’d been too lost in watching the dancing campfire and thoughts of Willow and Giles to hear his approach. Cursing herself for her distraction, she looked up. "I failed him."

"Failed him did you?" Arthur rumbled. "My knights are men of might one and all. Should on some evil whim they come at me en masse not even I would be able to prevail. And yet I would not turn from such a battle, for in truth my conscience would not allow it."

"But-."

"No buts lass," the king of legend shook his head. "Winning his battles does not mark a warrior as a hero. Fighting the righteous battle no matter what, no matter the odds or the enemy, marks one as a champion. And this battle is far from finished. Neither victor nor loser has been decided." The renowned monarch paused. "Your Rupert is far from the first Watcher I have known."

"You said Merlin was a Watcher," Kennedy felt moved to comment.

"Nay lass," the Englishman shook his head. "Merlin was the Watcher. England’s first, the founder of the Council, though he said the Slayer lineage went back far, far further. I was a boy king of not yet twenty years, struggling to hold my fledging kingdom together, when I first met Merlin, Gwen was five years my junior and newly called. Together we formed the Round Table to aid the Slayer, a mighty power that wiped demon and vampire from England and their neighbours’ green and pleasant lands. For five and score glorious years my knights and I rose alongside fair Gwen-."

"Gwen was Slayer for twenty five years!" Kennedy’s mouth dropped open.

Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow at her shocked tone. " Do Slayers not live so long these days, lass?"

"No." After a few seconds she managed to shake her head. "There was a Slayer in 14^th Century Spain who lived for twelve years, one in 16^th century Russia who managed ten, and Buffy is almost at a decade. But most less than two years, although we haven’t lost any in eighteen months."

"Ah," the king sighed. "It seems the Council is not what it once was."

"Until Giles took over it was pretty corrupt," Kennedy admitted.

"It saddens yet not surprises me. Man has learnt little in eleven hundred years." The king scowled, beard seeming to bristle with outrage. "It seems some lessons need re-learning."

* * *

Angel looked across at his son in his seat opposite him in the back of the truck, noting Connor’s stiffening. "What is it?"

Connor ignored his question in favour of standing and banging repeatedly on the panel separating them from the truck’s cab. "Pull over!"

The lorry shuddered to a halt and then the window slot was pulled back. "What’s wrong?" Riley demanded.

"There’s humans back there, a lot of them," Connor retorted. "I can smell them."

Riley scowled. "Are you sure?"

"Connor doesn’t get these things wrong," Angel defended.

"Damn," Riley’s scowl deepened. "It’ll be a work camp. They’ve been setting them up throughout the country. Well," the soldier sighed, "there’s nothing we can do-;"

"Like hell!" Connor snapped, eyes flaming with indignation. "We’re supposed to help people."

"He’s right," Angel offered his son support. "We can’t just turn away."

Riley’s mouth opened and shut several times before he finally spoke through gritted teeth. "Fine, we’ll take a look at nightfall. But if we do help them escape, they’re on their own from that point on."

"Deal," Angel agreed. Seeing his son’s mouth open, he shook his head warningly. There were limits to what they could do.

* * *

"You used to be an assassin, right?"

Spawn looked away from his inspection of the devastated city to the sleek beauty staring at him. "Yeah," he growled.

The coal-eyed brunette appeared unaffected by his frosty attitude. Instead she sat down beside him. "I used to be an assassin too," the girl continued with an irritating candour. "Didn’t kill many, one by accident but that was before I was an assassin. I killed one and tried to kill two others, one who’s my best friend now." The leather-clad woman paused before shooting him a haunted look. "I wasn’t much of an assassin, but sometimes all the guilt threatens to swallow me whole. How do ya cope with it?"

Simmons groaned inwardly. From what he’d seen of the buxom Slayer, she was a stubborn kid, unlikely to be off by rudeness or satisfied with anything less than a full and frank answer. "You’ve got to learn to forgive yourself."

"And how do you do that?" demanded his persistent companion.

"I guess by learning not to hate yourself, those you’ve wronged, those who’ve wronged you. By letting go of your anger at the world."

The raven-tressed temptress shot the older of the air force men a troubled look. "Easier said than done. Easier said than done."

Giles shuffled wearily on, a yoke around his neck, constraining his arms and chains securing his ankles. All around him and his fellow prisoners were grim-faced Jaffa, stewarding them towards a ring-platform for transportation to one of their blasted motherships. "I could get used to having a Watcher chained up like this. I’m surprised Buffy or Faith never thought of it before."

Even as Giles dazedly heard and recognised the cocky voice Kennedy and the Round Table knights glided out of the darkness. The Jaffa immediately to his right started to turn to face the intruders. Before he could ready his weapon, his head was flying into the cold night air, decapitated by a single sword swing by Lancelot. Blood spurted out to drench the knight even as the rampaging warrior continued on.

It seemed to Giles’ amazed eyes that the knight moved with an almost Slayer-like speed. Another Jaffa stepped in his path. The alien was unable to level his staff before Lancelot’s shield smashed into his face and his back-handed sword slash took the Jaffa’s head off. The knight sidestepped a staff blast from another Jaffa, his blade chopping down to rip through the alien’s left knee. Blood pumping out of the severed limb, the screaming Jaffa fell on his face.

And then just as suddenly as the attack had begun it was over, dead and dying Jaffa lying everywhere, the ground soaked with their viscera. "Sage Rupert," Giles gasped as Arthur and Kennedy stepped before him, the Slayer immediately setting to work pulling his yoke off, "I trust you are well?"

Giles forced a smile and opened his mouth to reassure England’s greatest ever hero. And then the world tilted and he fell forwards, legs suddenly weak.

* * *

Angel growled as he looked down into the makeshift quarry. The entire work area was bathed in torch-light, allowing the Jaffa to mercilessly work their slaves through the night, whips lashing at the unfortunate humans. Angel’s eyes narrowed as he noticed something. "Why are they using pickaxes and spades? Surely the Goa’uld have more advanced tools?"

"They do," Bra’tac explained in a hiss. "But when they are not in a hurry, they like to work their slaves with primitive tools to make it harder for them."

"Nice," Angel replied, anger growing. He glanced at Riley. "So what does our military genius think?"

The Special Forces soldier tore his gaze away from the camp. "I think we should make a detour around the camp, but I guess I’m out-voted. I see us making a three-pronged attack. Bra’tac takes those with enhanced night-vision – Angel, Connor, and Blade through as prisoners at 2200 hours. At 2215, Gwen, accompanied by Illyria, blows the generator to the north of the camp." Riley pointed for emphasis. "The moment the lights go out, Sam and I will go down to the east wire-mesh fence, plant a claymore and back off. At 2230, I’ll set it off. Sam and I will provide covering fire as you take out as many as Jaffa as possible in the confusion."

"Whatever the military’s paying you it’s too much," Angel incredulously commented.

"Look," Riley glowered at him. "I don’t think this is a smart idea to start with. So if you’re not happy with my plan, I’d be just as happy to call everything off and walk away while we still can."

"No," Angel shook his head, "the plan’s fine."

* * *

"Were you and my mom serious?" Jack started at the husky voice behind him, momentarily shocked that its owner would speak to him. Shoving aside his amazed excitement, he turned to face the brunette, suspicion gleaming in her chocolate-brown orbs. Jack stared at the young woman, mind whirling as he struggled to decide how to answer the thorny question. "Well?" Hand on her hip, Faith tapped her foot impatiently. "Ya wanna talk or what?"

"I want to talk," Jack slowly replied. God, what he wouldn’t do for Daniel’s way with the words. Or Teal’c’s extra-terrestrial calmness. "But maybe not about that. Maybe you could tell me about being a Slayer-."

"I tried, forget it." Head shaking, the supernatural warrior started to turn away. Jack grabbed her arm. Faith’s eyes snapped back to him, colder than death. "Two men can get a hold of me without my say so. And you ain’t Angel or Xan."

"Sorry." Jack let go as if scalded. "It was the summer of ’81. Your mother was a dancer at a club," Faith groaned, "and she was the most beautiful girl in the place. She had your eyes, hair, and smile," well what he’d seen of it when she was talking to her friends and her Watcher. "We spent a weekend together."

"And that’s it?" Faith shook her head, eyes disbelieving. "Jesus, I’d figured it wasn’t ‘Gone With The Wind’, but this?"

"Faith-."

"If you’d know about me, would it have made a difference?" Faith interrupted.

"Of course it would." Jack searched desperately for a change of subject. "You have a brother."

"Oh yeah?" For the first time, some of the anger left the raven-haired beauty’s tone and eyes. "Do you know where he is now?"

Jack’s stomach tightened, both with the memory, and the certain fore-knowledge of his daughter’s reaction. "Charlie shot himself with my gun in ’94," he finally admitted.

"Jesus," Faith’s look of disgust made him feel three inches tall. "I really got the parental prize. One parent who made me wanna kill myself and one parent who actually finishes the job. Fuck!" the Slayer threw her hands up. "I was right the first time!"

Jack opened his mouth only to close it as the Slayer stormed off. "Damn it, great strategic planning, Jack. Next stop the UN."

* * *

"Ooooooh," Giles groaned as he awoke, forcing his incredibly heavy lids to open.

"You’re alright!"

Giles smiled at the Slayer’s enthused cry. "Alright would be over-stating it." In truth he felt like he’d been through the proverbial grinder. Looking around, he saw they were in a mini-bus driven by Frank Martin, the sun just rising over the horizon. "And how are you? You took quite a beating as I remember."

Kennedy’s answering smile was strained. "I hurt some," the young woman admitted. "But Slayer healing is helping."

"Ah," Giles nodded. Slayer healing frequently amazed him with both its speed and capacity to keep on going no matter what. "Well thank you very much for coming to my rescue."

"Willow would have wanted me to." Kennedy’s smile became more genuine. "I’m your protector right?"

"Yes," Giles smiled. "Indeed you are. And indeed she would." When he compared Kennedy to Tara, she was abrasive, out-spoken, and impatient. But the last few days had revealed another side to the brunette beauty – a fierce loyalty and indomitable spirit that had to be admired. "She’d be very proud." Seeing the tears brimming in the girl’s eyes at his words, he instantly took her in his arms. "Hush now," he whispered. "It’ll be alright." After a second the Slayer pulled away, a look of mortification on her face. "What’s the plan now?" he quickly asked, deciding a change of subject was definitely in order.

"Bond," the Slayer wiped at her eyes as she spoke, disdain dripping from the young woman’s voice. Giles guessed the well-known womanising secret agent had tried and failed to work his charm on the beautiful Slayer. "Says we’re going to Torchwood."

"Ah, yes," Giles nodded. He recalled Bond telling him about Torchwood. Situated in Cardiff, it was Britain’s base for the research into alien technology. "And how long until we get there?"

"Four hours given the current conditions," the brunette replied.

"In that case," Giles closed his suddenly heavy again eyes and yawned. "I’m rather tired. I think I’ll take another nap."

* * *

"Here’s the thing," Connor whispered as Bra’tac herded him, Connor, and Blade towards the shadow-shrouded camp, "that piece of metal on your forehead, isn’t it some sort of identification? Won’t they be able to tell you’re not supposed to be here?"

"A wise enquiry," Bra’tac complimented his son. "And normally with a Goa’uld you would be correct. However The Quartet have Jaffas from a great number of Goa’uld under their control. I will be unnoticed. Unless…."

"Unless what?" Blade growled.

"Unless my brand is recognised as belonging to a former First Prime of Apophis," Bra’tac replied. "Teal’c and I have gained some notoriety as traitors to the false gods."

"Gee," Connor muttered, "and I thought dad was pessimistic."

Angel glared at his son. "Shut up, Connor." Angel himself fell silent as they reached the gates. He listened as Bra’tac talked to the trio of Jaffa on the gate in their unintelligible language.

Finally the rebel Jaffa turned back to them, his mutter too low for any ears but their enhanced ones to pick up. "They are convinced," Bra’tac reported even as the wire-mesh gates swung open.

"So this is where we get to be treated like slaves," Connor muttered. " This is the part of the plan I so loved."

Angel snorted as they passed through the gates. "After crushes on Cordelia and Faith, I’d have thought you’d liked it."

"Silence scum!" A Jaffa’s whip slashed against his back. "Pick up your ax and work!"

Angel dropped his head so the alien wouldn’t see his eyes flicker yellow. When the time came, he’d die first.

* * *

A seeming eternity later and the camp was suddenly plunged into darkness. Angel hid a malicious smirk at the Jaffas’ consternation. A few seconds later and the sky lit up and the ground shuddered underfoot as the far fence was blown apart.

Ears still ringing to the concussive blast, Angel blurred into action. Snatching hold of the head of a Jaffa foolish enough to turn his back to him, he twisted, snapping the alien’s neck. Snatching up the falling alien’s staff, he shot off a succession of energy blasts. Each shot hit its target, putting a Jaffa down on his back.

The ringing in his ears diminishing, he heard the sound of an unarmed Jaffa charging him from his left and another from behind. Angel shifted his staff into an underarm position and shot the alien behind while kicking the one to his left in the throat.

Another leapt at him, knife swinging. He caught the alien’s wrist inches from his neck. "Nice try," he smiled at the Jaffa’s shock. "Not good enough." He drove a palm into the alien’s face, driving his nose bone into his brain. Dropping the corpse, he vamped out as he noticed a Jaffa stood by a laser canon shooting at the shrieking slaves as they raced towards the hole in the fence.

Leaping into the air, he easily cleared the rushing masses to land beside the Jaffa butcher. The alien didn’t even have time to register his presence before Angel had slammed the knife he’d taken off his would-be assailant through his eye.

And then it was over. The camp’s Jaffa lay crumpled on the sandy ground, lifeless eyes staring up at the stars from which they came.

But far from all the humans had escaped. Some lay in the sand, some worked to death, but others casualties of the firefight. Bile rising in his throat, Angel looked around the carnage, burning it into his mind so he’d never forget what they were fighting, before turning to the others. "Let’s go."

* * *

"I saw you talking to your -, General O’Neill this morning," Xander commented as she huddled into her newly-claimed man’s side at the end of the day.

Faith stiffened. "Figured I had to try."

"And?" Xander prompted.

"And it ain’t gonna work. My mom was just some easy lay he picked up for a weekend furlong." Faith shook her head. "I ain’t interested in getting to know him."

"I’m sorry," Xander wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "But when you was a kid didn’t you wish you had a dad?"

"Yeah," Faith admitted. "But in case you ain’t got the newsletter, I ain’t a kid no more, I’m all woman-sized."

"Oh," Xander grinned. "I’d noticed."

Faith chuckled before rolling over and kissing Xander on the cheek. "’Sides, I got everything I need here."

* * *

General Hammond sighed as he finished listening to O’Neill’s report. Dr. Rodney McKay had created a compression formula that allowed for a sender to compress five minutes of audio into a five second transmission. All three of his teams were heading back with their missions accomplished, Captain Finn’s team even managing to recruit the famed vampire hunter Blade. Which was all to the good, but Jack’s report lacked his usual annoying yet also engaging irreverence. Instead he’d sounded distracted, dispirited. Clearly things were not going well with Jack’s newly discovered daughter. But then given his General’s character and the profile the Initiative had belatedly supplied on the Slayer, someone’s head was going to roll for keeping this away from Jack, he hardly expected the meeting to be something out of The Waltons.

George chuckled and shook his head. Saving the world or re-uniting families, he didn’t know which was the most difficult.

M looked up as her office door crashed open. Her mouth opened in a rebuke but she was pre-empted by her aide, a short but stocky former RSM charging in. "Sorry ma’am, but you said you wanted to know when they arrived."

M struggled to prevent her excitement from showing. Realising she’d half-risen from her seat, she sank back down and nodded. "And their ETA?"

"They passed our quarter-hour reconnaissance post some five minutes ago."

"Excellent," M stood. "Then I had better prepare to greet our guests." Walking out of her office, she stared down the corridors of the converted mansion twenty or so miles west of Cardiff. Reaching the four-storied mansion’s stepped entrance, she watched as the remote-controlled gates opened, and a convoy of three battered mini-buses pulled into the walled courtyard. A tremor ran through her when the buses began disembark and a bearded, chain-mailed powerhouse with an aura of majesty that clearly identified him as the once and future king stepped down from the second bus. Fighting the urge to curtsey, she stepped forward. "Greetings," her voice faltered then steadied. "Greetings sire."

"Greetings mi’lady," the monarch inclined his head slightly. "We have an injured amongst our number," the king looked over his shoulder to where a tiny brunette was helping a ravaged-looking man down the bus’ three steps. "I trust you have a healer here?"

"Yes, of course," M looked towards her aide. " Barclay, help the young lady-."

"We’re fine!" the young woman snapped, eyes flashing indignantly.

Arthur chuckled. "Fair Kennedy is rather protective of sage Rupert." The king looked towards the mansion. "And what function does this house perform?"

Gathering her thoughts, M led her guests through the ornate door. "This building is the headquarters of Torchwood, an organisation set up to combat supernatural and other-worldly threats to Britain and the world by Queen Victoria in 1879, after a meeting with a being that she considered supernatural but we later confirmed is alien called the Doctor."

M was shocked when Arthur threw his head back and let out a booming laugh. "The Doctor? That is a name I have not heard in a long, long, long time."

* * *

"What the hell!" Faith yelled as the lorry suddenly swerved off the road, crashing to a halt, throwing Xand and Harriet to the floor. Dana and Rona grabbed Harriet, pulling her back to her seat, while she did the same for the former Sunnydaler.

The moment Harris was back in his seat, Faith was charging out of the back of the parked truck to find out what was happening. Her mouth dried when she saw two ships flying down at them, energy blasts shooting out of their wings. She gaped when she saw O’Neill and Teal’c taking up flanking positions knelt behind the truck. "Jesus," Faith muttered to Daniel stood beside her at the rear. "We should be running, not trying to shoot them down."

"We’re too big a target," the archaeologist replied, eyes fixed on the approaching space ships, "they’d never miss."

"They’d never miss-." Faith gasped as the words’ chilling implication hit home. "Shit!" Turning back to the truck, she let out a yell. "Everyone out now!"

Rona was first to hit the ground, Xander a thankful second, and the rest following seconds after. Faith kept her eyes fixed on the incoming spacecraft even as she ushered the others into the doubtful cover offered by a few bushes beside the roadside.

A blast crashed into the truck. The vehicle exploded into a fireball, the concussive force flinging her into the air. Landing face-up with a painful grunt, she looked up to see O’Neill and Teal’c shooting blast after blast into the two crafts. One of the ships exploded into fire, the other plummeted to the earth, smoke billowing from it. The ground shuddered again as flames briefly filled the horizon.

Faith’s eyes widened. She had to grudgingly admit she was impressed. Pops could shoot and staying in the line of fire had taken a serious pair. Shoving aside such treasonous feelings she sprang to her feet, strode over to Xander, and helped him up before shooting her father a scornful glance. "Nice shooting, shame you couldn’t do it ten seconds earlier. Ya know when we still had a vehicle. Just how are we supposed to travel the klicks to Colorado? Tried hitching once, really don’t like the barter system that goes with it."

O’Neill shot her a wounded look. Before the general had chance to respond, Xander was between them. "This is America, land of the car. We’ll pick up something easy at the next town." Xander shot an enquiring glance around.

"Which is fourteen k to the west," Daniel helpfully supplied.

"Fourteen K? Okay," Xander joined her in glaring at Jack. "Now I hate you too."

Faith nodded approvingly. Finally Xander was getting with the program.

* * *

"You know the Doctor?" M queried as she led her guests into the underground bunker beneath the house, down the thirty steps, through the secret wall that appeared to be just another side to the extensive wine cellar, and finally down a long, light-bulb illuminated passageway, its floor thick with only recently disturbed dust. Stopping at a grey vault door complete with overhead watching CCTV camera, she punched in a four digit code. A steel door slid aside, leaving her with a handprint recognition panel. She provided the necessary identification and then stepped back, waiting for the door to swing outwards before leading the group into the vast conference room beyond.

"Know the Doctor?" Arthur’s amused boom filled the room. "No-one truly knows that one, but I have made his acquaintance. He and Merlin were friends. He was the only man Merlin regarded as his intellectual superior. And," the legendary monarch scowled, "it was after fair Gwen’s death that the Doctor persuaded Merlin to sacrifice his own life force to put us all to rest until such time as our nation needed us as it had never needed us before."

"The Doctor had you all put into suspended animation?" M asked.

"I am unfamiliar with the term," the king responded. "But the Doctor told Merlin that one day an enemy would come at a time when he was in another place, dealing with another threat and could not be here to defend earth, and that our fair land would have fallen into such a state of decay that it would need the Round Table to save it and bring it to prominence again."

M stared at the king, a cold finger sliding up her back at the hidden meaning she thought she glimpsed in his words. "Y….you intend to rule Britain again?"

"Aye," the king’s features stiffened to stone. "One of the Slayers showed me how to use one of your computers. Our country is ruled by a craven misfit unfit to run a rude tavern much less our mighty nation. Criminals, foreigners, and those who would destroy our history and traditions are more important to this ingrate than those who love our proud land. Well no more! After these godforsaken aliens are defeated, no more!"

* * *

"General Hammond," Hammond looked up when a Master-Sergeant hurried into his office. He was more relieved than he cared to admit when his junior saluted. At least military discipline was holding. So far. "General O’Neill and his team had arrived."

"Excellent," Hammond rose, suddenly old bones creaking. "Please, lead the way."

As they walked through the underground bunker, a relic from the Cold War, Hammond ruminated on what was to happen next. Their objective of taking down the snakehead prison ship was tricky to say the least. The ship was probably the best guarded of all the potential targets outside of the Quartet’s own mother-ships. But freeing the world’s heroes would give them a chance - which was more than they had right now.

"Vegas odds," he muttered. Unfortunately the house was stacked against them, and the house usually won. Coming to a halt by a grey elevator door, he waited more or less patiently for it to open, breaking into a smile when it slid open. "Jack," he smiled at the grey-haired man who was first to step out of the elevator, "it’s good to see you made it back in one piece."

His general managed a weary, painful smile. "Dorothy was never as glad to see Kansas as I am to see you right now sir."

"Miss Lehane," he nodded towards the young woman he recognised as Jack’s illegitimate daughter. Her photograph didn’t do her justice; she really was an astonishingly beautiful young woman. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Yeah," the curvy Slayer sniffed dismissively while eyeing him with a cynicism that marked her as entirely too old for her years. "I bet it’s in your top ten moments of all time. When’s Fang getting here, only the quicker we kick the aliens’ asses off earth, the sooner I don’t have to see his," Jack almost flinched at the scorching look the brunette shot his way, "face again."

Hammond was forced to use all his diplomatic skills to keep his calm in the face of the young woman’s rudeness. "Hunt and Bourne will be returning here with Witchblade and Hellboy in 36 hours. Finn," the Slayer groaned, hardly surprising given her troubled past with the soldier, "will be returning with Angel’s tea, and the added bonus of the vampire hunter, Blade, in 48 hours."

"Sooner the better," grunted the Slayer.

* * *

Hammond looked up at the knock on his door. "Come in." He smiled sympathetically at the man who entered. "Jack, take a seat."

"Thank you sir."

He stared at his junior for a minute before speaking. "Your daughter seems a formidable young lady."

"She’s all that." His friend smiled weakly. "I’d be proud of her. If I had anything to do with her."

"General," his heart went out to O’Neill at the pain in his second-in-command’s eyes. "I know you, and you’d never knowingly desert a child. You’ve proven your loyalty too many times for me to ever think you would. Just give her time."

O’Neill smiled crookedly, but there was no real amusement in the facial expression. "Want to give me an idea how long? Is there a traditional length of time I have to wait for forgiveness?"

Hammond stared back at his subordinate. There was some questions there was just no answer for.

Faith lay in her man’s arms, content to finally be with a man she didn’t have to bang to keep his interest. She purred as Xander began stroking her hair, wrapping her own arm around the Sunnydaler’s waist.

They were in their assigned quarters, Faith having stubbornly insisted on a shared room. Upon entering the room she’d intended on ripping X’s clothes off and riding him like a show pony like she’d wanted to for the past few months. Instead she’d found herself wrapped in her new boyfriend’s arms.

And loving every second.

Faith groaned at the bleakly insistent knock at the door. In the past two days they’d only left the room when they were hungry, partially because she wanted to avoid her mom’s ex, but also because she wanted to spend time with Xan. "Yo!" she called out. "Who is it?"

"Me."

Faith beamed as she recognised the deep voice. Xander replied to it with a groan. "Angel" Leaping up, she wrapped a blanket around herself before hurrying to the door and flinging it open, grinning up at the tall, pale man stood there. "Good to see ya! Come in!"

The vampire gave her one of his trademark half-smiles before speaking. "Hello Faith, good to see you too." The demon strode into the room. "Xander."

Her boy-friend stared stonily at the ensoulled vampire as he dragged his jeans on. "Deadboy."

Faith shot Xander a warning glance. She wanted them to get on. With all the other complicated shit going on, she really didn’t need the two of them bitching at one another.

After a second Angel broke the duo’s staring competition to look towards her. "Faith, there’s some stuff Xander and I need to talk out. Can we have some privacy?"

Faith opened her mouth to protest. "It’s okay, Faith," Xander interrupted.

Faith looked towards Xander and shrugged. "Five by five. She grinned to hide her concern. "The pair of you turn around while I dress, no peeking now."

* * *

Xander eventually broke the silence that followed Faith’s exit. "Look, if you’re going to give me the big brother speech don’t bother. I wasn’t scared outside Buffy’s hospital room and I’m not scared now."

Angel smirked. "That’s half-true. You’re not scared now, but you were terrified back then. Angelus could hear your heart almost pounding out of your chest."

"Okay," Xander stared at the demon stood leaning against the wall opposite with his arms crossed. "You’ve got me. So why didn’t you give me a quick neck-snap?"

"True courage isn’t doing something that others might consider brave when you’re not frightened. True courage is being frightened but doing something anyway. Angelus was impressed and thought you had potential as a childe." Xander shuddered. Now he was seriously creeped. "Fortunately for me, it never happened."

"Lucky for you?" Xander’s eye bulged. "What about me? Stuck forever reading Anne Rice and sleeping in coffins?"

"Stereotypes?" Angel threw up his hands. "I hate stereotypes! And what about me? An eternity with you tagging behind like a puppy dog? I didn’t need another Spike!" Angel shuddered.

Xander opened his mouth to retort then shook his head, it wasn’t worth it. "So give me the talk, I’ll pretend to be scared, and then you can leave and we’ll both be happy."

Angel’s eyes flickered with irritation before quickly re-assuming their usual unreadability. "I’m not here to give you a talk. You never listen anyway, and if you’re stupid enough to repeat the mistake you made with Cordelia, Faith’s more than capable of ripping your balls off. No," the demon paused. "Riley told me his unit had a team doing surveillance on Buffy," Xander felt a dead weight settle on his chest, foreboding crushing him, "and Spike. They haven’t reported in since we were invaded."

"Oh." Xander was surprised how little impact the vampire’s words had. He was sure that once such news would have left him feeling like he’d had a limb amputated. Now all he felt was a vague sense of loss, like he’d heard about the death of a barely-remembered school friend. Had all the disappointments and arguments really created that much distance? "Well thanks for telling me."

Angel raised an eyebrow at his non-reaction. "You don’t seem shocked."

Xander shrugged. "We’ve barely spoken since Sunnydale fell. I went to see her in October ’03. When I found out about the Immortal, we argued, and I walked out. To be honest I finally realised she was never the person I idolised. Then," Xander shook his head, "she confirmed it by taking up with Spi-, oh god." Xander paled. "Dawn’s with her. She’ll be dead too. Just like Willow."

"Willow’s dead?" Angel queried. "How can you be sure?"

"Willow’s," Xander attempted but failed to smile, "got enough power for us to be connected telepathically. I….I can’t reach her anymore."

"Oh." Angel paused, his expression clearly stunned. "I’m sorry." The vampire turned to go."

"Angel," the vampire turned back to him. "Thanks for telling me about Buffy."

The demon shrugged. "You deserved to know."

* * *

Faith hid a smirk as she strutted into the packed recreation room. Hips swinging provocatively, she basked in the stares of the off-duty troops loitering in the room. Yeah, she still had it, which was good to know. She might have a prime piece of meat at home, but there was nothing wrong in a little window shopping.

Striding across the room she sat at one of the few unoccupied tables, feet perched on the table even as she leaned over and leafed through the magazines strewn upon it. Finding a well-thumbed motor bike magazine, she smirked and sat back, idly flicking through the pages as she wondered why Angel had wanted to speak to Xander.

"Good afternoon young lady," Faith groaned inwardly at her ‘pop’s’ superior’s voice. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

Faith stared stonily at the bald general. "It’s your base," she replied with all the warmth of an iceberg.

The military man’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Thank you." Once he’d sat, the Texan stared at her.

"Look, I know I’m the bomb," Faith said after a minute. "But this staring a hole through me gets old real fast."

The general chuckled humourlessly. "You got Jack’s mouth, that’s for sure."

Faith glared at the middle-aged man. "Let me make this real simple for you, Custer. I haven’t got or want anything of O’Neill’s. Ya dig?"

The military officer appeared annoyingly unperturbed by her anger. But then when you faced the daily threat of alien conquest, Faith guessed you had to have a pretty solid set of stones. "You might not want anything of Jack’s, but it seems to me you have plenty of his qualities, young lady – his sense of humour, outspoken temper, loyalty, and never say die attitude."

"I didn’t get shit from my pop," Faith retorted, voice raising. "If I’ve got a ‘tude it’s ‘cause I had to fight every damn day of my life or get crushed. Nothing to do with bullshit genetics." Feeling rage threatening to overwhelm her, Faith took a calming breath. "When I was a kid, when I wanted and needed a pop like nothing on earth, he wasn’t there. And now," Faith snorted, "now I should just let him into my life ‘cause HE wants it." Faith shook her head. "NOT A CHANCE IN HELL."

The general blanched in the face of her anger but to his credit recovered quickly. "Young lady, Jack is an honourable man and I assure you if he’d-."

Suddenly Faith couldn’t take it anymore. "Assure fresh air, ‘cause I don’t give a fuck," she exclaimed. Leaping to her feet, she rushed out of the suddenly quietened room.

Her lips twisted in a scowl, Faith stalked down the corridor, the look in her eyes ensuring that anyone who crossed her path skirted around her. Faith stopped as she heard the sound of sobbing coming through one of the room’s doors. Opening the door, she saw Dana sat in a ball on her bed, rocking from side to side. "Underground, underground, underground."

Oh shit, Faith winced. She remembered that Dana had spent several months being tortured in a basement, leaving her with a terror of the underground. Kicking the door shut behind her, she rushed over and knelt beside the younger girl. Knowing that unlike herself, Dana craved physical intimacy, she threw her arms around the younger Slayer’s shoulders. "Hey, hey, hey." Faith kissed her fellow brunette on her forehead. "I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you."

"But you weren’t here!" Dana wailed, tears shining in her luminous eyes. "I thought he’d got you too!"

Guilt hit Faith like a runaway train. She’d been so immersed with her new relationship with Xan and her problems with O’Neill, she’d forgotten about Dana. "I’m here now," Faith wiped the girl’s eyes clean with a gentleness that would have shocked any one of her cellmates or street running buddies. "How about me and you get something to eat?"

* * *

General Hammond looked around the half-full briefing room, feeling the tension thick in the air. His breath caught as he looked around, the certain knowledge that at least some of the audience would not return from this mission almost choking him. Forcing the terrible conviction down deep, he spoke. "Thank you all for coming here. On the first page of your briefing packs you have your target, the alien prison ship. As you know, this prison doesn’t hold normal humans; rather it houses super-humans of one description or another. Once these prisoners are rescued, it is hoped we can resist more effectively." He looked down at his notes before continuing. "The ship is exceptionally well-guarded, the only route to it is through a landing pad just outside Fort Worth. Only ships from this pad are equipped with a secret identifying beacon that allows them access to the target. But this pad is in turn also well-guarded."

"A heavily guarded Jaffa compound, sounds familiar," Jack commented. "What’s the plan, sir?"

"Because large groups are easily picked up by the Jaffa, we’ll travel to the target in three separate groups. Upon reaching the target we’ll strike on Wednesday at 300 hours. I will lead an attack on the north defences consisting of myself, SG-s 4,5,9, and 14 with assistance from Hunt, Bourne, Blade, Spawn, and Illyria. Simultaneously General O’Neill will lead SGs 2, 6, 10, and 17 with the assistance of Angel, Gwen, Hellboy, and Dana on the west side. At the same time, Colonel Carter will lead an incursion force of herself, Master Bra’tac, Faith, Rona, Connor, Xander, Dr. Jackson, and Teal’c. They will steal a Death Glider and dock with the Ha’tak, seize the main control room, and open the prison pods, commander the ship with aid of the freed prisoners, and land it before it’s shot down."

"This sounds like a long shot," Angel broke the strained silence that followed his briefing.

"Unfortunately we don’t have much option," Hammond admitted. "But it does have the advantage of surprise."

"Yeah," Faith snorted. "Can’t say I’m surprised. On account the snake-heads probably realise you’d have to be nuts to try it."

Hammond didn’t answer. Partially because he guessed there wasn’t any point arguing with his second’s stubborn daughter. But mostly because he suspected she was right.

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