Chapter 9: Missing Toys

[Black Eye Guy]

A few days had passed since the the crushing defeat in Nepal. The gang returned to the monks, where they regrouped. After a day to get there things together they left for Scotland. Willow had been watching over Faith till they got her into a hospital where they had a contact and they didn't have to explain the situation. The Doctors said she would be fine, although she just needed time to recuperate.

Sam and Riley Finn had opted to Stay in Nepal and try and track down Dru and Indra, with both teams agreeing they wouldn't engage them if they where found.

After the group left the Hospital they made their way back to the Castle. Arriveing back in the middle of the Night, they woke Buffy and Giles, and the other that had gotten back from New York the day before. As well as Angel who had gotten back a few days before that.

The entire gang now assembled in Giles new library, books lined the walls with a big table in the center of the room, big arm chairs and sofas where scattered around that. The room smelled of books, and a Fire blazing in the huge Fireplace gave the room warmth and a homely feel.

The gang was spread over the chairs and Table. Most where dressed in Pajamas and you could still see the sleep in their eyes. They were tired but the events of Nepal had to be discussed now.

[palabravampiress]

:: Xander sat down next to Faith. ::

If he thought she’d have let him, he would have held her hand. Given her strength for the coming inquisition. But Faith was a stand-on-her-own type of girl, and Xander was starting to respect that.

Only starting, though. Still had miles to go.

For reasons that were beyond his understanding, he’d appointed himself Faith’s personal shadow. If there was one thing he admired, respected, and with which he was fully capable of empathizing, it was getting your butt well and truly kicked for the cause. He knew Buffy would be on the warpath about the scythe, but he thought she might be more MLK and less Malcolm X about it if a beloved and trusted friend was there to bear the brunt of it. Buffy had landed Faith in a coma once before. And yeah, she’d deserved it. But Xander had once brought a pyromaniac with an incendiary flare down on Sunnydale, and she’d barely so much as scolded him. Xander got away with stuff. He had Buffy points.

:: Xander pursed his lips. ::

Hmm. Wonder why that is.

:: He shrugged and looked at Buffy. Then, he looked away. ::

Better not look a gift horse in the mouth.

:: Instead, he looked around at Giles’ impressive new library. ::

Giles: “So, G-man, impressive collection you got here. Old and musty, just the way you like ‘em. Found any quality engravings?”

He had to hand it to Giles: his woodcuts were the best.

:: Xander yawned and pulled on the old bottle – Mountain Dew bottle, that is. ::

He’d barely had time to check out his new digs. The room was… Scottish. Even the carpet lint was Scottish. Tartan hung from drapes to tapestry and back again. The décor would do Robert the Bruce proud.

Some thoughtful soul – probably the Buffster, but maybe Giles, who was always great at remembering details – had put a picture of Anya on the nightstand next to his massive four-poster bed. The photo was from the Halloween in which he had dressed like a pirate (because, apparently, Fate had a sense of irony) and Anya had been one of those roller skating waitresses.



“Is it offputting for a successful businesswoman, such as myself, to dress like someone who only made it to subsistence level and vaguely demeaning employment?” Anya had asked worriedly before they’d headed to the shop.

She’d stepped out of the bedroom, spun around a time or two, and then clasped her hands in front of her as she waited for his judgment. In Anya-speak, it was the equivalent of asking “Do I look fat in this?”

Her ruby lips had curled into a concerned pout, and Xander had fallen in love – or maybe lust – all over again. He’d done that a lot with Anya. Every once in awhile, she would say something so unique, so true, so… Anya… that he’d realize how one-of-a-kind she was, and thank his lucky stars that she hadn’t yet figured out that she could have had any rich old widower or oil tycoon on the planet.

“I don’t want to offend any customers who happen to be waitresses,” she’d added.

Xander had grinned and reached out a hand. She reached back, and he yanked her toward him, not (much) caring that the roller skate wheels scratched the floor.

“Offensive stereotypes are a Halloween tradition. I promise,” he’d reassured her. “Besides… Daddy like. Short skirt. Roller skates. You’re all… poseable.”



*And let’s stop that train of thought like… five minutes ago.*

It was too late. He was already all... maudlin. He wished the thoughtful friend who had cozied up the room for him had been a little less thoughtful. It always hurt, knowing Anya was gone. But ever since that smoke demon, it had hurt more. Their enemies had used her against him, sure, but that didn’t mean that what they’d shown him wasn’t true. That didn’t mean she wasn’t suffering. That didn’t mean it wasn’t all his fault.

:: Xander sighed and shook his head until he returned to reality. ::

That took awhile, especially considering that the reality into which he snapped back was of the weird and wacky kind. Who snapped out of a daydream and into a castle? This particular castle consisted of a library that made the old Sunnydale High setup of the tweedy Giles days look… new. The carpentry wasn’t half bad, either. It was from a heavier era, sure, but the also from an era of superior craftsmanship. Love was carved into every massive, hulking headboard. It must have taken a mini-army of master carpenters to furnish this place. The bookshelves alone had taken at least two men each: one for the highly detailed carvings and another for the basic, well-balanced design.

:: Xander whistled. ::

Willow: “Will, have I told you lately that I love your taste in castles? Seriously. Do you have any idea how long it took to build each one of these bookshelves? You’re talking one month a piece, easy, and more trees than you can count.”

Sighing, Xander frowned and looked down at the table --- the beautiful, gleaming hardwood table that very nearly made him drool – and drummed his fingers gingerly on its surface.

Buffy: “Sorry. I know you wanna go all General Buffy on us. It’s just… I’m in Mr. Fix-It Heaven. I mean, these walls! Look at them. Just look at the masonry. That’s some quality wallmanship, right there. This place will withstand some major attacks. Save me always building and rebuilding everything, that’s for sure. Why didn’t we think of this back on Revello?”

[Keanoite]

Buffy glanced around Giles's new slice of watcher heaven. She had lost count of the amount of times she had actually heard him squeee in delight as he explored the labryinth of shelves. She would bet Mr. Gordo and Mr.Pointy that this was pretty much his ultimate 'Anywhere-But-Here'.

Pretty sweet when you think about it

They had spent days searching for anything tangible on Deirdre, and found stuff they did. However, it was all folklorey who-ha that really didn't tell much of anything except that she sings...which Buffy already knew. Nothing about the blue-blade and 'all being lost'!

Buffy became more and more dismayed with the whole thing. They just were getting nowhere...freakishly fast.

That was untill thre rest of the crew arrived at the new Fort Slayer..sans Scythe. Then Buffy jumped about five levels from dismayed to full throttle Panic Stations! She was edging ever closer to an all out panic attack. A band of dejected soldiers looked to her for guidance and she had none to give.

Kinda makes you appreciate cryptic ghost chicks getting their sing on

As her inner turmoil grew with every passing second she could not help but appreciate how ludacris this scene was. Here they were, on their last legs, the fallen army...having a slumber party! It was insane. She must be the only General in history to address her troops in big bouncy Tigger slippers. Very imposing indeed.

She was soon pulled out of her reverie by Xander.

“Sorry. I know you wanna go all General Buffy on us. It’s just… I’m in Mr. Fix-It Heaven. I mean, these walls! Look at them. Just look at the masonry. That’s some quality wallmanship, right there. This place will withstand some major attacks. Save me always building and rebuilding everything, that’s for sure. Why didn’t we think of this back on Revello?”

Buffy couldn't help but smile at her friend. She gave him a look that she knew he would understand as 'I missed you'...and she had?..did? miss him. It had been too long a seperation for the gang. Everyone was lagging. It was a feeling so strong it was palpable.

She knew that she would eventually have to break out her inner drill segerant but not now. The entire group was weary. Down to the bone. Right now she just needed to know what had gone down and figure out how the hell she would fix it. The loss of the Scythe was pretty much catastrophic on an epic proportions...too much to comprehend right now. It kinda made her brain hurt.

Her gaze kept drifting back to Faith. She looked, well, like s%^t. There was no other way of putting it. Buffy held her gaze for a beat, conveyed what they needed, letting the other know where they stood...Regret...Sorrow...Anger...Betrayal. As always it was a rocky ground. At least I can count on something never changing. Then with a silent nod their moment was over and Buffy stepped forward to get the groups' attention.

Everyone:' Ok I know you are all tired. I know you hurt and just pretty much want to die right now but I need someone to get splainy about what went down real quick'

[Born2Kill92]

Giles looked up at Xander when he spoke to him.

Xander: 'Yes to answer your question I have found some quality engravings and I do like them like that.'

Giles said with a slight smile.

Giles closed the book he was into and listened to Buffy speak. He was feeling the same way about this situation. But he was also a bit confused about it all. He was happy to see most of the scooby gang back and in one peice. But he was still confused about alot of stuff.

Everyone: 'Yes please do this is all starting to make my head hurt. So somone please speak.'

He said then smiled at Buffy.

[AngelRPG08]

::Angel stood broodingly the corner of the library watching the scoobies who took over the furniture in the room. Most were clad in colorful pajamas and some looked battered and bruised from fighting the mission in Nepal. Faith she looked bad from what he had heard she had almost died. Spike looked like hell but he didn't care. As much as it annoyed him to have Spike hanging around the LA office of Wolfram and Hart. It bugged him even more to find Spike had come to Europe to join Buffy and the scoobies. He couldn't help feeling jealous. He loved Buffy but because of the gypsy curse he couldn't be around her for risk of having that one moment of true happiness that would turn him into Angeleus. It hurt to know that Spike and Buffy had thing even if it was just physical. He knew Spike was in love with Buffy. Thinking of Buffy he couldn't help but smile at how cute Buffy looked getting down to business and addressing the group in pajamas and tigger slippers.::

[palabravampiress]

:: Xander caught Buffy's gaze and returned a little half-smile of his own. ::

He knew the Buffster was about to lay the verbal smackdown on the entire lot of them, but it was also nice to know she still cared. That was business. Didn't mean they couldn't settle down for a movie-and-popcorn fest once this whole thing was over.

Of course, by then, we'll probably be fighting multi-tentacled Hell Gods from the Planet of Flesh-Eating Slime.

Vampire vampire slayers were scary, sure, but they'd faced the first primordial evil before and won. They'd faced a God before and won. It seemed like the worst was behind them. Maybe they could work in some Slayage and a movie for a change.

Of course, that was from his perspective. Some of the team probably wouldn't be battling slime monsters or knocking back popcorn shots anytime soon. Accordingly, Xander looked at Spike -- utterly thrashed, not quite blackened anymore and yet still sort of medium-rare Spike.

:: He raised his eyebrows expectantly. ::

Spike may not have been battle ready, but he could still make with the 'splainy.

Not that Xander felt entirely comfortable asking.

So yeah, on the one hand, anyone who spent a couple of days down in Casa De Crazy with Cat Woman and Cheetah deserved a bit of down time. The girl who had handed Faith her ass was obviously their rogue slayer and obviously working with Drusilla. Granted, Xander hadn't actually seen Drusilla with his own eyeball, but the capture and torture of Spike was definitely her M.O. Cuz with the crazy. He definitely didn't envy Spike that experience. At least not this time. This type of attention from the fairer sex was definitely of the bad.

On the other hand, who cared? This was a guy who got his nickname by driving railroad spikes into people's heads and once viewed torture as an amorous sort of activity. Not to mention the whole tortured-by-a-God thing. Let's face it. The guy had put in some serious hours in the old torture chamber over the years. His pain and kink threshold had to be way up there, which meant that maybe spilling a little intel wouldn't be too much to ask of him at this critical intel-gathering juncture.

Spike: "Pick up any useful info while you were down there, Burn Boy, or were you too busy getting your butt kicked -- or, you know, crispified?"

Still, Xander felt bad for him.

:: Which doesn't mean I like him -- either of them, those stupid souled hunks of irritating man meat who seemed determined to just waltz into town any time they pleased and drive all the women bat sh*t, Xander thought, gazing darkly at Spike and then Angel. ::

He wished they could be more like Mast -- err, Dracula. Now he was cool. He kept everything all subtexty and bitey -- unlike certain vampires he knew, who had to come in all undead and broody and make with the stealing of the male lead status. His favorite fanged pen pal was also blessedly unlike certain other vampires, who did the same, but on video camera for all the world (even little Dawnie) to see. Master -- Dracula, I mean just rode motorbikes and kept menservants and had really cool hair.

But that was neither here nor there. The feeling bad for Spike thing sort of ground his gears, but it also did sort of cause Xander to ease up on his approach and add, almost apologetically:

Spike: "I mean... torture bad. I get it. Tough break. We're all really broken up about it. I'm just saying... it also makes for good recon. Like, who was the chick who turned Faith into a shish kebob and was she for sure working with Drusilla and -- oh yeah -- did they happen to mention the evil master plan between holy water showers and hot poker impalements?"

:: Xander frowned and looked back over at Faith. ::

Actually, feeling bad for the tortured and grievously injured members of his party was causing him to rethink a lot of things. Like his fitness to be of any use at all. To anyone. In any capacity greater than just guy-who-fixes-doors-and-windows.

He wished Anya were around. She'd always looked up to him. She'd always wanted to learn stuff from him -- about being human, mostly, but she also liked learning about Star Trek and comic books and board games and the construction business. She always made him feel like he was worthwhile and special -- and maybe even a little sexy. She laughed at his bad jokes and noticed when he got his hair cut and made him feel like a million bucks whenever he'd do something not really that important, like remembering to bring doughnuts by the shop or getting a raise at work or rebuilding every square inch of Buffy's house five times over. Best of all, she preferred his company -- his, not some stupid vampire's -- above everyone else's.

Which was why the Spike thing had hurt so much.

It was only as much as he'd hurt her, sure, but still. Rejection bit the big one.

:: Xander sighed and shook his head, reaching in front of him and desperately drowning down another can of soda. ::

He couldn't let his mind wander like this. He had to focus. Maybe if he focused on the problem at hand instead of wallowing in missing-Anya land, he could actually be of use to someone for a change.

[Mesektet Ra]

Spike was the last to enter the room - he hobbled a bit, his skin still tight. His face showed the last remnants of the beating he endured - the puncture wounds from the demon were almost completely healed, but his face was still a shadowy black and blue.

He flexed his hands as he sat, draping himself comfortably over one of the overstuffed armchairs in Rup's new office. Spike had woken up long enough since getting here to know they were in Scotland - couldn't find any sodding castles in London?, he thought, mildly irritated. They'd only just arrived and settled, and he'd yet to have to grand tour. Sounds like so much fun, he thought blandly.

He was glad for the break. The rest helped his body heal - his skin glowed the angry pink of raw, healed flesh, and his legs weren't fully cooperating, but he'd dealt with worse. 'Least I got all my limbs still attached, he thought, digging in the pocket of his duster for his lighter. He plucked a cigarette from behind his ear. He sniggered quietly at the thought. Small bloody favors, eh?

He hadn't spoken to anyone about Nepal since...since. He was in and out for a few days back in Nepal, and during some of his in periods, people came to ask him what happened - Xander, Dawn, the monks. As far as Spike was currently concerned, it was none of their sodding business. He wasn't ready to open up that can of shit just yet. That would involve digging deeper than he felt necessary.

He flicked his cigarette to life and inhaled deeply as Buffy spoke. Spike tried vainly to avert his gaze from her - she looked, well...so sweet, and strong. A warrior with the face of a child. Throughout the years, Spike had noticed that she never quite lost that unnameable quality that made her so young.

Instead, his eyes floated to his lap, then to Xander, who was staring at him expectantly. To Angel, who he flipped the bird to without any real reason. The ponce was glaring at him, brooding with this caveman brow, and it irritated him.

Xander started to speak. Spike didn't bother to look up, his eyes fixed firmly on the space between where his hand curled over the arm of the chair. He puffed noncommittally on his cigarette, the acrid smell singeing the air around his head.

"Pick up any useful info while you were down there, Burn Boy, or were you too busy getting your butt kicked -- or, you know, crispified?"

He puffed noncommittally on his cigarette, the acrid smell singeing the air around his head.

"I mean... torture bad. I get it. Tough break. We're all really broken up about it. I'm just saying... it also makes for good recon. Like, who was the chick who turned Faith into a shish kebob and was she for sure working with Drusilla and -- oh yeah -- did they happen to mention the evil master plan between holy water showers and hot poker impalements?"

He couldn't keep his mouth shut anymore. Bollocks. I'm turning into Peaches, he hissed to himself. He adjusted himself slightly and looked up, his eyes - one of which was still slightly swollen - locking onto Xander's.

"Her name is Indra," he started. His voice was flat and emotionless. His eyes ticked to Faith, and immediately fell to the floor for a moment. Looking up again, he continued. "She's with Dru."

He inhaled on his cigarette. "Dunno what the bird's problem is," he said, as if every word he spoke was incredibly taxing. "But she seems to've gotten it in her head that Drusilla's...Kali. As in, the goddess Kali. She called Dru Kali to me...when she was using me as bloody leverage."

"Kali and I have an understanding." Spike closed his eyes for a moment, reaching a stiff hand up to rub at them. "She's devoted. Blindly. She thinks that shacking up with our lovely Dru is the sodding Good Thing." He inhaled again, and shook his head. "From what I got, Drusilla was after the scythe. She called Faith the 'one who bears the scythe' or some load of balls. Don't know what they wanted it for." He shrugged, his eyes flicking back to Xander. "Must've been too busy suffering from a bleeding head wound to pay attention."

Adjusting himself again, he let his eyes drift to Buffy as he continued. "Indra's...confused. She's starting to second-guess Dru." Spike scoffed, a half-grin curling the side of his mouth. "Loony bint's got herself a sprog, too. Doesn't exactly help matters."

He settled back, eying all of them in turn for a moment. "Is my turn with storytime quite finished?"

[Keanoite]

There hadn’t been too many times during her impressive career (Doublemeat Palace excluded) that Buffy Summers had been caught off guard. It’s kind of a requirement of her job that she DOESN’T get caught napping. Her ability to be on point, to always expect the unexpected, heck to wait for the unexpected to knock on her door and ask her out for coffee was undoubtedly one of the major reasons Buffy the Vampire Slayer still stood, 10 years on, as Commander and Chief of the good fight . Ok maybe there was a couple of times where she hadn't been so much with the living but that wasn't really the point. She was still here because she kept her wits about her, she adapted to her surroundings and was always prepared. For Anything.

Of course there were the few occasions when she had been caught off guard. Times when she had thrown caution to the wind...Her 17th Birthday sprang to mind...or when the world threw her a curve ball that she just didn't see coming...An image of her mother spread across their living room couch, cold and dead, filled her vision suddenly...and then their were times when she had been just plain old thrown out...that still left a dirty mark that she wasn't sure would ever be clean.

These things were like a mental checklist she kept to herself in a hope that it would somehow prevent her from being caught off guard again.

Despite her efforts, Buffy now had another moment of shocking clarity that jarred her senses and shook her foundations, to add to the list.

A Vampire vampire Slayer, a Rogue Psycho Slayer (who isn’t Faith) and Drussila thrown in for good measure, and this band of circus freaks now have the scythe…My Scythe…the same Scythe that is integral to the whole world not going all kabloohee…Now my head hurts and it all kinda makes me miss the First

Hey that rhymes!

She needed more info than what Spike had offered up, she had too many questions.

Who was Indra? What were her weaknesses (if any)…he said she was confused…could they exploit that?

What had they spoken about…anything that they could grasp as a lead.

And also, who the hell was Kali!...the Goddess of Psycho Loonies!!!

Which is actually very probable…

"Is my turn with storytime quite finished?"

Spike’s final words pulled her back to planet mayhem and for the first time in months she looked at him…really looked at him and it almost took her breath away…and not in the Rhett Butlery Gone With the Wind kinda way…more in the Oh My God what a happened to you kinda way.

She hadn't seen much of him since he had returned to Nepal. She had been slightly taken aback when he hobbled into the library, but not really surprised. The guys had said he was pretty badly beaten, that he had taken a mauling from the Merry Band of Nutcases. She knew all too well how his lips swelled with blood and purpled, like a brutal, chilling kiss tattooed on his mouth. She could still remember the sound his bones made when they snapped. The grainy crunch that turns her stomach even now. Oh Buffy knew how Spike's body would look after it had been abused because it was not to long ago she had been the abuser. Both as the Slayer and as his Lover Buffy had hurt Spike. If she was ever in doubt, the fiery sensation of flames wrapped around their enclosed hands had forever burned it into her. She could still feel the dry, papery crackle of his skin under her palm when she closed her eyes.

It was his eyes though that gave Buffy cause for concern. They were vacant. Just empty wells of crystal blue. No fire, no passion, no Spike.

It terrified her.

If she hadn’t been sure earlier, she was now. She needed to speak with him on his own. She needed to get inside his head and understand what had been so bad that it made him lose…his Spikeness? His Spike-osity?...man I suck with words

A slight cough in the far corner of the room caught her attention. She looked over and found herself knee deep in an Angel gaze…Mmm Annngel

Where the hell had that come from?

This was just great, one second she was sloughing through some serious serious Spike issues and the next she’s swooning for Angel. She had been in total denial about how confusing it would be having the two of them around. Told herself they were all JUST friends. That they could work together and save the world and she wouldn’t go home and have dreams about playing Nurse Buffy to two infirmed, devastatingly handsome, ensouled vampires…albeit with questionable hairstyle choices.

You’ll never be friends…

Damn Vampires!

She inwardly shook off her funk and tried to get back into the Save-The-World-From-Unspeakable-Demons Zone but she couldn’t help but feel cheated that Angel hadn’t worn his pj’s to their little slumber party…especially since she knew he liked to wear his birthday suit!

Okaaay! And we’re back…please check all naughty thoughts at the door, and please enjoy your flight on Apocalypse Airlines

Buffy purposefully forbid herself from looking at Angel or Spike for the rest of her entire life and instead turned to the rest of the group.

“ Ok so psycho loony tunes have the scythe and no doubt are plotting our demise as we speak. Does anybody else having anything to add to what Spike said? Is there anything else we need to know?”

[Born2Kill92]

Buffy: 'Uhh yes I do, We don't have the resources to go in and take down a complete phsycho slayer. She could kill yo and faith alone with that sythe in her hands. We need to do more reseach ont his Indra before we march in going to get our heads cut off don't you think. So now I ask you Buffy are we ready to go in and get the sythe back. I for one don't think we are. I also feel that we should let our wounded rest. So lets just sit here and make a damn good plan so we don't go in and come out with dead instead of wounded. So why should we worry with this now. Buffy you and I both know you deserve a rest. Along with everyone else in this library right now. Lets take a couple of days in the castel and relax and try to regain the slayer strenght we are going to need to take the sythe back! Okay?'

Giles asked with pure sympathy for buffy in his voice. He was worried about this new Evil slayer. Of Phsycho slayer the others had brought to his attention. They were deffinately not ready for another evil slayer. Faith was hard enough when she was bad but now another.

Giles was really worried about Buffy now. He didn't want her to over work as the slayer.It could drive her insane if everyday all she does is slay. And now that she wants to give Dawn a normal life she can't do that with all the slaying going on. He also didn't want her to burn out and end up killing herself before she could get the sythe back. Yes they had lots of young slayers with them but none of them had the expirenence Buffy had. They needed to rest and then pick up. Giles stood and looked at the rest of the group. He saw the exhaustion in their faces and in their eyes. He turned back to Buffy.

Buffy: 'Buffy I know how much you want to go take this sythe back. But we can't right now. So let's all get back to normal lives for the next couple of ays and take care of the wounded. This can also allow us the time to come up with a plane. So please everyone go to bed.'

Giles said turning to Buffy. he was worrie dwhat she was going to think of him taking authority. But it needed to be done before Buffy and the others ran out to be killed off.

[Lyri]

::Gwen curled herself up into the chair she was currently occupying and tried to supress the yawn that was trying desperatly to escape.

::She knew that her little adventure hadn't exactly turned into the major opertation she knew they'd all been expecting, but her power boost to kill that alst demon had all but sucked the strength from her. After stepping off the plane, Gwen had retreated immediatly to her room and fell asleep almost as soon as she'd hit the bed.

::Well, that was until she'd been called to this meeting, as was, apparently, everyone with some decree of importance.

::So now she sat, in black shorts and a white T-Shirt she suspected might actually be Connor's, and listened while everyone recounted everything that had happened to them during their pown specific missions.

::Gwen felt extremely out of place.

I have no stories to tell. No psycho Slayers attacked us, no crazy vampires tried to kidnap anyone. Apart from Amy's lack of sense of direction, every part of our plan went...well, it went to plan.

::Part of her wanted to just get up and leave the room, to go find something productive to do, like...well, anything besides sitting here and feeling ignored.::

No one knows me, no one wants to ask me my opinion, because they don't know if they'll actually want it. I shouldn't have come here. I should have just stayed in LA.


::Gwen squashed down her feelings as listened as Buffy asked them if anyone else had anything to add, and Giles told them all to go to bed.::

I was already there, buddy, 'til you guys dragged me here. Really, I'm happy to go back if you want.

::But she stayed where she was, hoping desperatly that someone, anyone, would remember that she was actually in the room.::

[Born2Kill92]

Giles lowered himself back into his seat seeing the fury and tension rising in buffy's face. He looked around and then spotted the girl named Gwen. She looked like just a child. Then he thought to himself.

Why not get opinons from others. Maybe that would persway Buffy in his direction.

He took a deep breath and looked at Gwen hoping to make eye contact. He opened his mouth.

Gwen: 'Excuse me your Gwen I presume. I am Mister Giles but you can call me Giles. If you don't mind me getting your opinion on this matter. Well what is your Opinion on this matter? You are just as much apart of this team and family now so why don't you tell us what you think so that way everyone can have a turn at their sharing of feelings.'

Giles smiled his relife and calming smile at the young girl. He hoped that he made her feel as much at home and not excluded. He wanted her to become apart of this group because of the powers she possesed. She could be a majoir asset to the team now.

[palabravampiress]

:: Xander followed Giles' eyes from Buffy to Gwen. ::

Electra-Woman powers aside, she looked... cowed. Like someone just up and shocked all the spunkiness right out of her. She was crackling with positive, can-do energy. Xander could tell by the way she sort of shrunk back, curling up all small and vulnerable looking on her chair, but still paid uber attention to the Scooby meeting. Her eyes bounced eagerly (and nervously) from speaker to speaker. She even opened her mouth to speak every once in awhile, but then shrunk back again. It like she desperately wanted to belong, but she was afraid to speak up.

Xander remembered that feeling. He'd pretty much put it to bed the first time he'd saved the world, but before that, he'd felt all expendable. Good old Xander. Brings the doughnuts guy. Turns into a hyena guy. Gets dumped guy. Otherwise, runs and hides. Until that day, he never thought he had much to offer team slayer.

Giles: "Right on, Watcher man. Let's give Girl Lightning over there a chance to shine."

:: Xander brought his hand -- the one attached to his un-injured shoulder -- up to his still-bandaged head. ::

Gwen: "Was your mission as craptastic as ours was? Cuz I gotta say, Nepal is nothing like the travel brochures."

:: He smiled reassuringly at Gwen and ticked off a list on his fingers: ::

Gwen: "You got little girl yetis breaking in, evil monks running around --"

:: He paused and jerked a thumb in Spike's direction. ::

Group: "Not to mention Evil Dead's Ex and her new slayer dolly."

:: He eyed Spike for a second, and then turned what Anya used to call his "flirt face" onto Captain Peroxide's latest lady. ::

He'd seen sparks there before the mission -- not literal, Gwen-induced sparks, but metaphor sparks. Xander had no real interest in Gwen, not with Anya dreams keeping him all hopped up on caffeine 24-7, anyway. It was just... maybe a little harmless guy stuff would help draw the Blonde Wonder out of his waking catatonia. As much as Xander hated to admit it, they'd need Spike if they were ever going to take down Dru.

Besides, the guy boinked my fiancé. That gets me a free pass on all future insinuations of the ungentlemanly variety.

He was soo never gonna let Spike go on that. Nu-uh. no way. No how. Not ever. There was too much heckling to be done.

Gwen: "Anyway... please tell us your mission went better than ours. And that maybe this mysterious thing you were sent to New York to, erm, collect in a totally legal manner of which I see no evil hear no evil and know no evil will maybe give us an edge on Ansara and her band of Bedlam babes?"

:: He raised his good arm in a wide, sweeping motion to indicate the Nepal contingent. ::

Gwen: “Besides, your story’s gotta be better than ours, what with your conspicuous lack of concussion. Very daring fashion choice, by the way, passing on the first aid chic. Gutsy and all one with the criminal element. I like it.”

[Lyri]

::Gwen sighed. Why was Giles speaking to her like he'd never met her? She'd never really had an all out conversation with the man, but they'd met...hadn't they?::

You're loosing it, Gwen babe. Can't remeber who you've met or who you haven't. Apparently, this whole world save-age really plays havok on your memory.

::She opened her mouth to answer Giles' question, but before she could, Xander spoke up, with what she hoped was a coffee-high. He babbled on insesantly, and it was only after the first few senetences that Gwen realized Xander was including her. He wasn't just asking what happened because they needed to know, he was asking because he genuinly wanted to hear what she had to say.

::She looked at Xander's injuries, notcied that almost evryone else had some sort of bodily-damage, whereas her gang had come out pretty much unscathed. Score one for her team? Or was everyone gonna hold it against them?::

:: He paused and jerked a thumb in Spike's direction. ::

Group: "Not to mention Evil Dead's Ex and her new slayer dolly."

::Gwen followed Xander's gaze and looked at Spike, then flicked her gaze to Buffy. She knew it was illogic of her to think that Spike only had one ex-girlfriend, but how crappy would it be to have both show up at once? And one, apparently, on the wrong side?::

Focus on what's going on right now, Gwen, not on Spike's current crisiss.

::She smiled at Xander as his babble finally came to an end.::

Xander: "We had a pretty easy time, actually. Got what we went for, didn't get caught...or at least, we didn't get held by the demons who caught us. We just killed 'em. If it hadn't been for Amy's lack of sense of direction, we probably wouldn't have run into any trouble at all."

::Gwen shrugged.::

Xander: I don't even know what that thing was for. I don't how it'll help with Ansara. Unless we're gona put her ashes in it?"

::She thought about the little brown urn, the entire point of her mission. Was it some sort of holding thing for Ansara? And how, if at all, was Ansara connected to this new player?

::Gwen blushed and looked down at her hands.::

Xander: "On the whole, we had a pretty borning mission. Nothing as exciting as people's exes showing up, or Slayers - Gone - Bad, or anything like that. Apart from a very energy sucking move I pulled, which will not be happening again for a while, I really don't have anything to repot."

Group: "Sorry."

[Keanoite]

Shame filled Buffy as Giles spoke, but not for the reasons you would think. Most would say it was understandable to feel guilty about how utterly, diabolochally, exponentially wrong the groups respective missions had gone. Afterall she was the one responsible for all of these lives. It was she that had sent them out nearly to their deaths. But it wasn't this that made her stomach turn in knots.

No, it was the relief that seeped into her very bones when Giles insisted that they, that she rest, that caused her to feel such guilt. She was supposed to be the one in charge, the one with the answers. Instead she hadn't felt so lost since...ok technically last week...but that wasn't the point. She had told Giles a long time ago that she could handle it, that he had taught her all she needed to know and now here she was a year and a half later clinging to him again as if she had just risen from the grave......uh..again.

She wanted to be able to answer these questions, she wanted to be the one to save the day and yet at the same time she wanted to be saved herself.

Pathetic Much?

She felt totally out of touch. Everything was so different and yet so hopelessly the same. How naive was she to think that what they had done with the Scythe would change everything, or anything for that matter. She was surrounded by slayers, by warriors and still she was THE Slayer. She was still the The Chosen One.

She rememered looking into the Sunnydale shaped hole in the ground she had created and thinking...Finally! She could be normal. She could shop and laugh and rollerblade and cook Dawn dinner and not worry about the world being in peril every second becuase it wasn't just on her anymore. She could finally live!

God, she was such a fool.

She really really was a fool becuase she was still stuck, rooted to this spot. Alone. Giles looked like he was readying himself for the wrath of hurricane Buffy.

He thinks I'm angry because he took charge...how shocked would he be to know the truth.

She noticed it with everyone though. They were all on edge waiting for her to explode. She hated that. Hated that she was so cut off, that she still only knew a handful of the new slayer's names. Hated that she had to ask the same questions in every meeting.

What happened...

How many injured...

Who's fault...

How do I fix it...

It was never, How are you? What do you think? What's your name.

If she closed her eyes she might as well have been in Sunnydale. Nothing had changed.

A girl across the room caught Buffy's eye for a moment. She was trying to think of her name. She wanted to say Gwen but Buffy really wasn't sure...no surprise there. She knew she had been part of Angel's crew...kinda...I think?

She looked like Buffy felt...lost. She had curled in on herself, a barrier from all the attention people were not paying her. Buffy saw something in her eyes light up when Giles and then Xander spoke to her. As soon as it was there it was gone again and she was back to hugging herself into a protective ball.

Gwen relayed the details of her mission and Buffy couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips.

Xander: "On the whole, we had a pretty borning mission. Nothing as exciting as people's exes showing up, or Slayers - Gone - Bad, or anything like that. Apart from a very energy sucking move I pulled, which will not be happening again for a while, I really don't have anything to repot."

Group: "Sorry"

At least someone got it right

Buffy looked up and smiled at Gwen as warmly as she could manage.

Gwen: ' No don't be sorry Gwen. That's the best news we've had since... well maybe since Snyder got eaten!'

Xander:'What dya think Xand?'

Buffy turned back to Gwen

Gwen:' Really, great job. Some people dislike boring...personally I love it. Stay boring! Really I hear it's making a comeback! Boring is in this spring Kids.'

Buffy hoped Gwen realised that she was trying. Ok she was fairly sure she missed trying and hit weird along the way but it was something.

Right now, it was all she could do.

[Lyri]

::Gwen smiled at Buffy, loving the fact that the leader of this little operation...okay, let's face it, MY leader...was making an effort to make her feel better.::

Buffy: "God, what I wouldn't give to have a boring, normal life. If that was your idea of boring, I'm not going to like your idea of exciting, am I?"

::She laughed as she joked with the Slayer, then grew sober as she saw the look in Buffy's eyes.::

She looks so much older than she is. She's not much younger than me, but she looks like she's been around forever. Seen it all, and done it twice.

::Gwen looked around the room, at the sea of faces belonging to people she was starting to think of a friends. No one looked happy. Apart from Xander, who she was starting to suspect used humor as a way of not dealing with things, everyone looked like they'd just be told they had cancer of the puppy.

::Gwen grew worried, her sleepines vanishing.::

Buffy: "What happened on the other missions...it was bad, wasn't it? You're all joking and trying to ignore it, but things just got a whole lot worse, didn't they?"

[Mesektet Ra]

Spike errantly watched the chatter go on from person to person through the haze of his cigarette. His eyes had blanked out long ago, his entire being disconnected from the proceedings. He smoked languidly.

He did not want to be here. He did not want to be having this conversation, especially with the magnificent poof and Boy Wonder tagging along for the ride. Xander had been there - he'd seen everything. Well...most of it. Not that the wanker was around for what mattered. Like when Spike was getting the hell tortured out of him. Again. Christ, does that ever get old.

Giles spoke to Gwen, and his eyes flashed over to her briefly. He hadn't looked at her either, now that he thought about it for more than five seconds. He snorted a little to himself. Wonder why that is. Digging a bit deeper than he felt like at the present moment, he realized that he didn't want Gwen to see him this way. All broken down and brooding like Peaches. He'd much rather fish around the kitchen and find a bottle of Jack to wash his sorrows away with.

She'd been huddled away from the group, almost trying not to be seen. When Giles spoke, she unfurled a little. Good for her. Get 'er out of 'er shell for a mo'. She needed the companionship, the feeling as if she belonged somewhere. Spike wished her could be there for her right now, but...

Xander spoke, and something flashed in his eyes. Spike tried not to laugh. Christ, he's hitting on her. Brilliant! Spike didn't know Gwen all that well, but he knew her well enough - Sparrow wasn't her type.

Or...or maybe he was telling himself that just to get over the idiotic pang of jealousy he felt. He glared daggers in the back of Xander's skull for a moment - not long enough for anyone to notice, thank the gods. Last thing he needed was everything the hell else he felt to be ripped from his head like Drusilla and her sodding mind-meld.

Buffy spoke, and Spike's eyes automatically fixed on her. She looked so sad, drawn and thin. Never gets better for her. He wanted to sigh, but restrained it. The Buffy he met upon coming here had shifted into this girl, the lone leader once again. Whatever weight she carried had finally brought her down.

There was silence in the room for a moment. No one wanted to answer Gwen's question. Spike shifted noisily, his duster squeaking against the leather chair. "It did, love," he said simply, meeting Gwen's gaze for the first time in a long, long time. "Dru's loony Slayer got the scythe...and Christ knows what the bint wants to do with it."

[palabravampiress]

Xander had expected one of the Buffster’s patented beat downs, but the one who really looked beaten down was her.

As usual, though, his hero knew how to deal. She switched gears, went into improve-morale mode, and joined him on the welcome the newbie Scoobies train.

Buffy looked up and smiled at Gwen as warmly as she could manage.

Gwen: ' No don't be sorry Gwen. That's the best news we've had since... well maybe since Snyder got eaten!'

Xander:'What dya think Xand?'

:: Xander laughed. ::

Snyder?

He hadn’t thought of that weasley little man since, well… since he’d been eaten.

Buffy: “I dunno. I kinda liked that guy – in an annoying authority figure kinda way, of course. Anya had this theory that he was a goblin… or maybe a dwarf. She knew a few back in the old country. You know: pointy ears, pointy teeth, chronically anti-social.”

:: Xander paused and tilted his head, remembering. ::

Buffy: “Except during the whole enchanted band candy thing! Remember how he kept wanting to tag along with us like we were the cool kids or something? And Giles here went all Ripper and – “

:: Xander shut his mouth and blanched. ::

Happy, funny memories turned into Joyce memories, which were decidedly of the non-cheery.

Too soon.

Buffy: “And did nothing improper or non-tweedy at all. Stayed in the library with his books. No funny business whatsoever… and I am soo shutting up in 3, 2, 1 now.”

:: Xander looked around the room apologetically. ::

They’d been doing so well, too, all Justice League at the end of a story arc. Gwen had started to grasp the seriousness of the scythe-less situation and even Spike had come out of Angel-mode for long enough to back her up.

Group: “And while I may be a mood wrecking moron, I am also a useful mood-wrecking moron. Observe:”

:: He pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and paper-football-flicked it over to Buffy. ::

Group: “ I got this from Faith when we thought she… well, I just did. Nevermind when. When she couldn’t give it to me.”

:: He looked at Faith. ::

Faith: “Sorry for the privacy invasionage, there. Just doing my watcher-in-trainingly duties.”

Faith nodded weakly and told him they were “five by five.”

:: This, he took as encouragement, so he turned back to Buffy. ::

Group: “It’s a note, containing the names ‘Indra’ and ‘Chand.’ Also says ‘Palace’ and ‘Durbar Square.’”

:: Obviously pleased with himself, Xander leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He did his darndest to wipe the grin from his face while he was at it, but it was a no-go. ::

Group: “Since I’ve been working the caffeine and pain med enhanced no-sleep mojo of the concussed, I Googled our latest little bad. Found out a couple of things: first, she’s got more money than God. Literally. Glory really wasn’t rocking the Forbes list, as I recall. Second, she’s got a husband and a baby, so that coincides with Spike’s she’s-got-a-kid-theory. Thirdly – and bestly – she’s missing. The husband’s offering a ginormous cash reward for whoever finds her. Seems to think she got kidnapped by the Maoists. Apparently, there’s some big anti-monarchy revolution going on in Nepal these days – I blame the evil monks.”

:: Xander grinned at Buffy. ::

Buffy: “So cheer up, Buff. We got a lead. I figure a big spender like our girl’s likely to leave a paper trail. Should get us a general region, at least. Then, maybe Will can magic us up a locator spell. Find the slayer, find the scythe, right?”

:: Suddenly self conscious, Xander slumped in his chair and studied the table’s wood grain. ::

Group: “I mean… if you want. Or I could shut up and hammer something.”

He felt like he was stepping on about a million toes, at least ten of them belonging to Giles, by working out plans and making deductions like some kind of Sherlock Holmes wannabe. It was just, well… if he knew something, he had to speak up, right?

[Lyri]

::Gwen tried to follow Xander's babble fest about paper trails and evil monks, but she didn't know if it was the huge amount of coffee Xander had obviously drank, her own lack of huge amount of sleep, or both, but she just wasn't getting any of it.

::She leaned forward in her chair, her elbows on her knees and tried to let everything sink in.::

Group: "Okay, let me get this straight. There's this Scythe-thingie, and it's like, some sort of Slayer charged super-weapon, right? Drusilla's back in the game, and apparently playing for the other side again, this time with a cute little side-kick, who, if I'm not mistaken, is actually one of those Scythe-created Slayers, and it's playing with a full deck herself. And now, Insanity Fair's cover girls have the Scythe, and are planning to do what with it? I mean, I know you guys used it's power to activate all the little baby Slayers, but I mean, does it still have all that power? Or was it, like, used up?"

::Gwen sighed, yet again, and ran her fingers through her hair.::

Group: "I know I'm sounding like exposition girl, but I'm kinda feeling out of the loop here."

::Gwen's eyes flicked from Xander, to Buffy, to Giles, to Spike, then finally back to Buffy.::

Buffy: "What can they do with this Scythe now they have it and what's it gonna cost us?"

[Keanoite]

"What can they do with this Scythe now they have it and what's it gonna cost us?"

Buffy held Gwen's gaze for a long minute. She could see steal in that girls eyes. She had had it hard. Buffy could tell because she saw the same look in her own eyes everytime she worked up eough courage to look at herself in the mirror. That had become less and less frequent as the years had gone on. She didn't recognise the person staring back at her and didn't have the luxury of time to dwell on it. It just was the way things were. Simple as that.

Gwen eventually looked away and Buffy was thankful for that. She 'smiled' grimly and told Gwen the truth.

Gwen:' Honestly? I don't know. It could be everyperson you see before you or it could be a garden gnome for all we know. Considering our track record I'm gona go with choice number 3 which basically is...alot. The scythe was used to activate all the Potentials. That was some major major mojo, even for us. The scythe has power that we haven't even began to tap. It's now in the hands with three of the fruitiest nut jobs on the planet who recently kicked our asses until they were nice new shapes. So my guess is...think of the absolute worst scenario and multiply it by ten.'

Buffy saw how the entire room winced at her words, but she couldn't lie to them just so they could sleep at night. They needed to know what they were in for. She made the mistake of holding back with the First. She couldn't, no, wouldn't do that again. If they were in this fight, they would know the odds.

Remembering what Xander had said to her Buffy turned to him.

Xander: ' Thanks Xand, a lead, any lead is something. We'll get on it first thing.'

Group: ' Ok I can see you are all lagging so lets just call it a night' she looked at her watch and saw it was 2 am...'...or a morning as the case may be. Unless we have some sort of emergency consider yourselves off the clock for the next couple of days. Rest up. We have a long road ahead of us.'

She sighed as she watched her band of weary soldiers shuffle their way out of the room. She could feel the tension building up within her and decided she needed some fresh air. Suddenly the castle felt claustrophobic somehow.

After a quick glance around to make sure everyone had left Buffy the Vampire Slayer stepped out into the cool Scottish night.

[palabravampiress]

:: On his way out of the bathroom – all freshly bandaged and girly shampoo fresh – Xander bumped right into Lady Lightning Rod. ::

Gwen: “Sorry.”

:: Worried – too late, but still worried – that he spilled some coffee on her, he stifled a yelp and stepped back. He looked down from Gwen’s very attractively attired self (even her PJs were silky and sexy, as per her unique, can’t-touch-me charm) to the mug of triple shot espresso that was still safely in his hand. ::

But he was still exiting the bathroom, which was not exactly of the good-impression-making goodness. Even worse, he’d been taking his caffeine extra black, lately – black and thick, all gross and sludge-like. Vaguely like something he’d seen in his latest sewer stroll…

Oh God!

:: Panicked, he looked up at Gwen, then back to the bathroom, then back at Gwen. ::

Gwen: “English Patient!”

English Patient?

He’d croaked out the first words that came to mind and, unfortunately, that was it.

:: Then, aware that his response made zero sense, (and that’s just if you don’t count negative numbers) he gazed bashfully at his feet and explained without looking back up: ::

Gwen: “Just thought of a new nickname for Spike. ‘Cuz, you know. We spend so much time fixing him.”

:: Xander’s eye darkened – an expressive thing that worked way better when he’d had two eyes, but now that he was down to one, really just looked sort of weird – as the barest shadow of a thought ping-ponged its way through his brain. ::

Which we wouldn’t have to do if he didn’t spend so much time getting tortured for us.

Xander had taken his fair share of licks. Especially, you know, the giant honking hunk of optically important organ that was currently (and forever) missing from his skull. But his sacrifice was… hollow. And apparently rife with the quippy punnage. He’d never forget his “it’s a little to my left” line. Xander gave. And gave and gave and kept on giving. He didn’t really expect a whole lot back, either. Once upon a time ago, he’d hoped for some slayer lovin,’ but those days and even that longing seemed about at distant and unimportant as his grade on his last geometry exam. Now, he just did it because he was a Scooby and they were family and that’s what Scoobies did. But he’d never really given, not freely and without resentment. The unfettered use of nifty pirate accessories notwithstanding, he resented the loss of his eye. He resented the loss of Anya a million times more. That resentment was very much unlike a certain leather-clad vampire (whom he also resented) who took every bit of abuse the Buffster, the Scooby gang, and the latest Big Bad could pound into him and still kept coming back for more. His devotion was unwavering. His wounds and losses didn’t fester into caffeine-junkie-creating resentments.

Which, of course, begged the question: why did he still goad Spike? Was it jealousy? Insecurity? That casual insult thing that guys did when they were… (gulp) friends?

:: Xander shrugged. ::

Gwen: “It’s a guy thing.”

He’d just let it rest at that. Anything else would lead to him admitting a grudging respect for the guy who was so often tortured in service to their shared cause, which would surely be a sign of impending apocalypse, and it wasn’t the apocalypse time of year yet.

:: Xander shot Gwen a quick, self-depreciating smirk before he brought the too-hot coffee to his lips and gulped down a good third of the good stuff. ::

Gwen: “And yes, I do just go around thinking of quippy insults a la Mr. Collins. Gotta joke on your toes in the Scooby gang. And also, yes, I read a book. Well, that’s a lie; actually, I saw the mini-series. All six hours. Anya made me.”

:: Xander rolled his eye at his tendency to babble. It was increased of late, due to his more recent tendency to drink uppers instead of depressants of the alcoholic variety. ::

:: He looked at her sheepishly and stuck his free hand into his pocket – or would have, had his pants had pockets. Being pajama pants, they were lacking, so he just let his hand hang awkward and idle. ::

Mentally, he kicked himself for being babbley and rude. Then, he turned the monologue into a dialogue – one that actually required some input from the walking power supply they’d picked up from Angel’s crew.

Gwen: “So… umm, Gwen… it’s pretty late. Human lightning rods got a thing against sleepy time? Is it the static electricity? I imagine you get bed head to really write home about.”

:: Xander frowned and tried again. ::

Gwen: “By which I really mean: Hi Gwen, you valuable team member, you. Nice to finally talk to you one-on-one. Wanna go to the kitchen with me for a well-past-midnight snack? Maybe you can regale me with stories of the stealthy life.”

:: Xander clamped his lips closed and left the ball firmly in her court. ::

He was trying to be friendly, but it was turning out… weird. He figured that was a sure sign that sleep was needed and stat, but he put a lid on that impulse, too, and drove it down even deeper than his various resentments and insecurities. Instead, he just vowed to let new Girl do the talking while he did the listening. He would not speak until spoken too, he resolved, except to offer an encouraging “mm hm” or “I see” as necessary. Or maybe a quip. He was determined.

[Lyri]

::Leaving the meeting and the attendants of said meeting behind her, Gwen left the room, determind to return to her dorm room, What am I? In college? and sleep until well past noon the next day.

::But she couldn't sleep. Images of Drusilla kept flashing through her head. Images of Dru with the Scythe, and what she could be caplable of with said Scythe. That, combined with the cold shower she just HAD to have, led to a not very sleepy Gwen.

::So she left her room, wandering through the hallways in the middle of the night, like some stupid spirit intent on scaring the crap out of the residents. A hot spirit, but a spirit none the less.

::She'd passed Isabel and Raven, who, after whatever mission they had been on, had returned to their joined-at-the-hip status and were apparently headed for the lounge to watch a movie, if their popcorn and blankets were any indication. She was waving them goodnight, or good morning, depending on the person you were, so she wasn't looking where she was going...which was the exact moment Xander decided was a really good time to leave the bathroom, steaming cup of coffee in hand.

::Her reflexes weren't exactly on par with Buffy's or Angel's, but she was pretty quick off the mark and managed to jump back a few inches and avoided a hot coffee shower.::

Thinking that mighta stung

::Then Xander started into the babble again.

::Gwen looked at him, with a little half amused smile on her lips, as he went on about English Patients and nicknames for Spike.

::It wasn't until he stopped talking and hung his free hand by his side, instead of waving it in the air, that Gwen realized that he was embarrassed by his actions and was probably waiting for her to turn and run in the opposite direction.

::Her smiled widened at his invitation.::

Xander: "I think a midnight snack sounds great right about now. But maybe no more coffee for you. How about some hot chocolate?"

::Gwen led the way to the kitchen, where they found several young Slayers who were also apparently having trouble sleeping. They cleared out pretty quickly after the two of them entered, and Gwen spared a fleeting thought about just what the younger girls knew about her.

::Gwen made some hot chocolate for them, finding some of those little marshmallows in a bag in the coupboard above the dishwasher. A lable on the bag read 'Andrew's Mallows', but she figured he wouldn't mind them taking just a few.

::Taking the drinks and the marshmallows to the table, she handed one mug to Xander, then sat down across from him, pondering his last question.::

Xander: "You wanna know about me, huh? Not much to tell really. Freak of Nature, is the title usually applied to me. Didn't know just exaclty how normal I am, until I met Angel and his crew. Those guys are some freaky people."

::Gwen studied the marshmallows in her mug.::

Xander: "Willow probably filled up in on why she chose me to head up the recovery team. I'm a theif, professional day job-type theif. I realized pretty soon after high school that my power can manipulate any electrical current. Laser sensors, security cameras, alarms. Anything you can think of, I can get past it. It made for an easy living. I was good at it. Wasn't until I ran into Angel and his lackies on a job, and accidentally killed one of them, that I realized that this wasn't really a 'no one gets hurt' kinda life. People did get hurt by what I did. It's jsust that, most times, I wasn't around to see it."

::Gwen flashed back on that night, when she accidentally killed Gun by blasting him full force with her power. Seeing him fall lifeless to the floor, his eyes empty, had reawakened memories Gwen had thought long dead. And now they wouldn't go back into that little box in her mind where she put things she didn't want to think about.::

Is that why I'm here? Helping with this...whatever it is? Am I looking to make up for what I did? To both Gunn and that little boy?

::Her hot chocolate didn't have the answers.::

[Mesektet Ra]

Spike left the room, hobbling a bit behind the others. He spared a feeling glance at Buffy - a look that said all he needed to say without uttering a word.

He had half a mind to crawl into his bed and let himself rest. But he knew that was a fools errand - there was no way he was going to sleep anytime soon. And besides, way he figured, it was around two in the afternoon in vamp time, and that would just not work.

He sighed. He reached up a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, his skin still burnt an angry pink and stretched. He grunted a bit, looking down both sides of the hallway. He'd yet to have the grand tour, so where he was going was anyone's guess.

He sighed a little and went left, passing a maze of stone archways and rooms that shot off into their own little pods in the building. He looked around, a bit amazed at the scenery. Rup knows how to pick 'em, he thought idly.

He came around a bend, the hallway opening up into some sort of lounge area. And lo and behold - Raven and Isabel, the former perched languidly on the couch and the latter curled up at her feet. Both looked comfortable, dressed in their PJ's and draped in blankets. The TV flickered.

Raven glanced up, her jaw automatically dropping open at the sight of him. "Holy shit!" She exclaimed. She pushed herself to sit upright. "Man, I heard you got your ass handed to you...but wow. Crazy did a number on you, huh?"

Spike blinked at her, his scarred eyebrow raised slightly. Well...she didn't exactly mince words, did she? "Could be said," he replied, a bit stiffly. If he wasn't willing to talk about it to the Scoob Brigade, he wasn't going to talk about it with Raven bleeding Spencer, out of all the current pains in his ass. He sighed. "I need a drink. Where'd they install the sodding kitchen in this maze?"

Raven chuckled a bit. Isabel smiled. "Down the hall. It curves a bit, but you can't miss it." Isabel concluded the statement with shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "We're washing deh Ebil Dead, if you wanna." She said, mouth full of popcorn.

Spike smiled a little and shook his head. "Not quite in the mood right now, love. Raincheck." He nodded once - both girls nodded and he turned to head off.

"OH!" Raven exclaimed. Spike poked his head back around the corner. "That Electro-Chick and Xand are there." Raven waggled her eyebrows. "Thought it'd be nice to tell you, considering you and Gwen -"

"If you finish that statement, I'll disembowel you with my bare hands," he bit off, pointing at her and narrowing his eyes.

Raven laughed. "Whatever you say, Medium Rare. Just giving you a heads up."

Spike scoffed and turned off, stomping down the hallway. Bloody idiot girl, he thought savagely.

Isabel was right - the hallway opened up into the kitchen, where a few girls huddled in the corners, talking softly. Spike moved towards the refrigerator, throwing the door open. The scent of blood smacked him full-on in the face.

He turned over a container - labeled, appropriately, 'O-pos'. He smiled a little to himself. 'Least something's going right on this hellish day.

He pulled his flask from his jacket - Jack, as always. He drained half the contents of the flask into the container.

He glanced around, spotting Gwen and Xander talking off to the side. She looked pensive. Spike, for a moment, was struck with a conundrum - to go, or not to go? He chugged a bit from the container, the blood sweet and the alcohol burning. Sod all, he thought.

He moved over to the two of them, dropping himself in the chair next to Xander. "This wouldn't be a private party, now would it?" He asked casually, taking another sip of his blood.

[AngelRPG08]

::Angel stood in the dark shadows watching Buffy as she stepped out into the cool night air. He couldn't help but feel like he had to keep an eye on her. As much as her unkept hair, colorful pajamas, tigger slippers made him smile he couldn't help but notice the troubled look in her eyes. Something was troubling her and that bothered him. He wished he knew what she was thinking. He wished to that he could wrap his arms around her and make it all go away or at least give her some reassurance that it would.::

God, he thought, what happened to her. I should have been there for her. Why hadn't Conner or the rest of the group called sooner. I'd have come sooner.

::He shook his head. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was there now. As long as he was in Scotland he would be there for her. He waited before approaching Buffy making sure none of the scoobies had decided to follow her out or come check on her. He wanted to be alone with her. When he was sure the others had left and were not going to follow Buffy he stepped out of the shadows.::

Buffy: "Buffy?"

::He waited for her to reply. He wasn't going to push or invade her space. If she wanted to be alone he'd let her. He just wanted to let her know he was there for her.::

[palabravampiress]

[Kitchen]

:: Xander shut his trap and listened while Gwen talked – and, also, he enjoyed the chocolatey goodness of Gwen-brewed hot chocolate. ::

Xander couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something as simple and as nice as to make a drink for him. She even did a little mother hen routine, telling him politely yet firmly to lay off the caffeine. It was… nice. It made him miss Anya like crazy, of course, she being the last person who’d thought to do anything so creature-comfortey on his behalf (most of which involved comfort of the carnal kind), but it was still nice.

:: Xander smiled a bit and brought the warm mug up to his lips. ::

Mmm. Hot chocolate smell – possibly made better by the fact that Sparky swiped Nerd Boy’s mallows.

The hot chocolate taste was good, too.

::Taking the drinks and the marshmallows to the table, she handed one mug to Xander, then sat down across from him, pondering his last question.::

Xander: "You wanna know about me, huh? Not much to tell really. Freak of Nature, is the title usually applied to me. Didn't know just exaclty how normal I am, until I met Angel and his crew. Those guys are some freaky people."

:: Xander laughed out loud. It was faint and nowhere-near-hearty, but it was cheerful and it was there, both of which were definitely of the good. ::

Gwen: “You have no idea. Really. Count Brood is the embodiment of strange. I’ve never seen anyone -- dead, undead, or soap-operaified -- rock the split personality quite like he does.”

:: Xander frowned. ::

Crap. I babbled. Was that a babble? Maybe it was a quip. I’ll go with quip. Quippage is definitely allowed.

Gwen didn’t seem to notice, though. Instead, she stared into her mug like she was reading tea leaves… or nerd mallows. You know: whichever.

Xander: "Willow probably filled up in on why she chose me to head up the recovery team. I'm a theif, professional day job-type theif. I realized pretty soon after high school that my power can manipulate any electrical current. Laser sensors, security cameras, alarms. Anything you can think of, I can get past it. It made for an easy living. I was good at it. Wasn't until I ran into Angel and his lackies on a job, and accidentally killed one of them, that I realized that this wasn't really a 'no one gets hurt' kinda life. People did get hurt by what I did. It's jsust that, most times, I wasn't around to see it."

:: Xander bit his lower lip and regarded Gwen thoughtfully. ::

:: Then, hesitating just a bit on account of not wanting to accidentally up Gwen’s wattage with sudden movements of the startling kind, he reached across the table and grasped her hand. ::

Gwen: “Umm… no sweat. You’re in good company. Really. I accidentally caused people to spontaneously combust while bursting into song. Put a whole new spin on the word ‘flaming.’”

It was a joke, but it was well intentioned.

:: Half comfortingly and half just pleased not to be crispified, Xander smiled at Gwen. ::

Gwen: “Mistakes, they’ve been made all around. And sure, they’re no picnic. I once joined an evil swim team and wore a speedo. You’re talking mistake city! But if Thing 1 and Thing 2 can come back all shiny and ensouled and do good after all those centuries of badness, then your days of artful dodging can’t be that bad, right? Besides… whatever that urn does must be good, so you are firmly in the Scooby camp these days.”

:: Xander took his hand back and sipped thoughtfully at his cocoa. ::

He missed this, being funny, quippy, make-the-girls-feel-better guy. Not too long ago, back when the Initiative had went implodey and explodey all around, he’d been the heart of the group. Now, he felt more like a pinky finger. Or maybe a little toe. It was kinda nice racking up the quality heart-to-heart time with Girl Lightning. Made him feel like maybe he hadn’t left that heart part of him completely buried in the rubble that was Sunnydale. Maybe still mostly, but not completely.

And hey, points for effort.

And then, because Xander’s luck just ran that way, the glowy warn moment was ruined by Captain Hairdo, the ruiner of all things good or even just passable in Xander’s life.

He moved over to the two of them, dropping himself in the chair next to Xander. "This wouldn't be a private party, now would it?" He asked casually, taking another sip of his blood.

:: Just acting on reflex, Xander scowled. ::

Gwen: “Hey, look! It’s the English Patient.”

:: Then, more quietly, he schooled his features into a passable non-scowl that was still not exactly up to smiley goodness and added: ::

Spike: “I mean… want some hot chocolate? We stole Andrew’s marshmallows. A little lacking in platelets for your taste, but still good and sticky-fingers fresh.”

See, nice? This is me playing nice.

:: Xander yawned and rested his chin on his hand. His eyelid drooped. ::

:: He then shook his head and forced his head upright with a snap. ::

Sleepy time is sooo not an option.

Gwen and Spike: “Umm… so… this urn thingie, what’s it look like? Egyptian urn, or is it more like Native American? You wanna stay away from the Native American ones… trust me.”

[Keanoite]

Buffy expected a bite to the air when she stepped out of the castle. To her extreme pleasure she found the Scottish night to be a soothing balm to her wrecked nerves. The longer the meeting had gone on the more agitated she had felt. The gentle blow helped to push that agitation aside...for a little while at least.

These nightly strolls had become a habit of sorts for Buffy. Sleep no longer came easy, not that it ever really had, but she found it especially hard to settle these past few nights. Since the troops came home and she was faced with the physical proof of how screwed they really were.

Spike's gaze as she walked out the door lingered in her mind's eye. With that one glance he revealed more to her than he had with any of his words during the debriefing. He was worried about her. He had missed her and he would be there for every punch and kick of this fight. She hoped her own gaze had reflected the same sentiment. Well if her gaze didn't then her disheveled appearence would. She looked as wretched as the whole damn situation felt.

A weary sigh escaped her lips as she came down the front steps. She had this thing where she stopped at the second to last step every night and just stood, and watched. The vast Scottish Highland was spread out in before her and she couldn't help but be awed. She was a California girl born and bred, never in her wildest dreams could she conjour up an image like this.

The castle walls hung low from her vantage point. The firey torches along the stone encasement lighting up the darkness, casting shadows along the hills that ran infront of it. Buffy liked to watch the shadows move, dancing under the moonlit sky. She imagined they told a story of battles old. Echoes from the past that vibrated on the stone and grass. There was something about the place that allowed you to feel the history it held. If the walls could talk they would recount tales of warriors wicked and true, of the blood spilt on these fields, turning green to red. As morbid as that seemed Buffy found solace in it, a kinship almost with the land that surrounded her. It was a place of champions and Buffy was nothing if not a champion.

Also, it reminded her of Angel in the most irrational way. Years ago when he had lived in the mansion and they both were deluding themselves thinking they could be 'friends', she would ask him to tell her about where he had grown up. She knew he had been born in Ireland but really that didn't mean anything to her. During the summer after she had killed him she spent hours turning over every second of their time together. Grasping at any part of him she could hold onto. It was during those torturous months that she realised how little she knew about him. On his return she made the decision to rectify that. So instead of spending ours wrapped in eachother's arms she would sit with him and listen as he told her about his life, the places he had been, people he met and the things he had seen. Of course leaving out all the murdery, disembowely parts.

They tended to ruin the mood

His life in Ireland had been one of her favourite topics. He got this far away look in his eyes, almost like he was back there. It made him look so young, so human it was almost painful to watch. He told her of how his grandfather taught him to ride a horse when he was five and smiled when he remembered the horse's name, Fionn. How he and his boyhood friends would sneak into the Land Lord's Estate and throw rocks through their fine sash windows. Buffy had teased him about being a little tyrant she still remembered how he became indignant and started muttering about Cromwells men being brutes and Muc Savages deserving a hell of a lot more than a stone through their window. She still never understood that. Mostly she remembered how he recalled the smell and sounds of his home. He said it smelt of turf and fire. The hearth of the house was constantly a glow with the earthy embers. The turf causing the smell of moss to hang in the air and how come dusk the sound of the tide in Galway bay played like a soundtrack to every memory he could resurrect.It was the lingering smell of moss and the burning fires that always made her think of him. It made him feel that much closer somehow.

Her mind still full of thoughts of Angel, Buffy continued her nightly stroll around the castle grounds in some vain attempt at eventually finding rest.

[Lyri]

::Gwen smiled as Spike joined their table. It had been a while since she had spent any time with the blonde vmapire, and, quite frankly, she missed him.

::She slid her hot chocolate, barely touched, across the table to Spike and watched as he wrapped his hands around the mug, ignoring his blood, even as she laughed at Xander, actually using his English Patient joke.::

Spike: "I think anyone can join. We're very friendly people here at Super-People headquarters."

::Gwen turned back to Xander. He looked tired, worn out from whatever he'd faced in Nepal.::

And that would be because he actaully had some action to deal with, unlike us who had to force ourselves not to die from bordom.

Gwen and Spike: “Umm… so… this urn thingie, what’s it look like? Egyptian urn, or is it more like Native American? You wanna stay away from the Native American ones… trust me.”


::Gwen chewed on her lower lip as she considered Xander's question.::

Xander: "It was kinda small, actually. I thought, maybe Willow as gonna use it was some weird morbid thing to keep Ansara's ashes in, but I don't think it's big enough. It's gray, and has these strange carvings around the outside, etched in gold. I didn't really study it much when we picked it up, too wiped out from my power drain, and when we got back to base, Willow whisked it away pretty quick. I'm guessing it's got some sort of magical power or something, but other than that, I got no clue."

::Gwen slumped back in her chair and heaved a sigh. Once again, she was of no help.::

But at least this time, I'm useles in an area I know nothing about, which isn't exactly my fault.

::She gave herself a wry smile. Her self-beat-down's where even starting to get on her nerves, never mind anyone elses.::

I really wish I hadn't given Spike my hot chocolate now.

[Spirit_Of_Fred]

:: Amy fell back on her bed as she tried to sort out everything she had just taken in at the big Scooby Meet. A complicated task, as she was still trying to take in their new location. Scotland. But more importantly, a castle in Scotland. From what she'd gathered, most of the gang seemed amazed at the grandeur of the new, scenic digs. She was just weirded out. She felt like she should be in some old legend, or fantasy storybook. The whole environment made anything she did there seem surreal. Kind of odd coming from someone who spouted off a spell on a regular basis, she knew. Heck, she grew up in a house where her witchy-mom put curses on people! Still, the magic that she did, and that her mom had done, seemed less fairytale to her. It was hard to explain in her mind, but it probably wasn't in reality. Everyone else fought demons everyday, and they were still caught up in the magical awe. Hers must not be a completely unique feeling. ::

:: She took a deep breath, trying to focus her thoughts. Trying to put together what she could from what she recalled. Point one, there was a crazy slayer, working with Dru, another crazy vampire who just happened to be Spike's ex, and she now had the slayer scythe. Point two, Faith almost died, and everyone else on Team Nepal took heavy bruisings. Point three...well, there was no point three. Anything else she had either forgotten or been unable to fully understand. ::

:: She did remember how supposedly "boring" Gwen had called their little mission. And yes, it was boring. In fact, she'd spent most of her time reflecting on how thoroughly bored she was. Still, she was probably the only one who felt the least bit of emotion about said mission (unless boredom counts as an emotion). To Gwen, it was just "Amy's lack of direction", or something like that, which had gotten them into the incorrect room. But to her...it was so much more. ::

:: It was the first time, at least in the long time since she'd passed the stage of a novice witch, that she'd messed up a spell. At all. On the one hand, she just cursed herself for being so distracted. Yup, it was that simple. She was plain old pissed off at herself that she'd landed them in the wrong room. An annoying mistake to move on from. One that she certainly should be moving on from, being that they had finished the mission, successfully, and were now miles upon miles away in a castle in Scotland. And yet, she hadn't moved on. She couldn't. ::

:: What was wrong with her? Was she just so bored that she hadn't given such a basic spell her all? Or was she really slipping in a critical way? She could feel herself obsessing. But what better time to obsess than when you screwed up royally (well, royally in her eyes, anyway), and were utterly alone? ::

[palabravampiress]

Xander was confused. He was in the library… the old library with tweedy Giles and Oz and the whole gang all fixating on some demon or another at the table.

But I thought I was in the kitchen with Girl Lightning and Billy-Idol-Wants-His-Look-Back.

Not that he was complaining. Cordy was looking totally hot in one of those skin-tight vampirella dresses girls used to wear back in the 90s. It was bright blue and shimmery. He had presence of mind enough to realize that he was in the past, so of course he put that mental power to good use – if wondering if he was at the stage of the game in which he could take Queen C back behind the bookshelves for some tonsil hockey could be counted as good use.

But that looked to be a big honkin’ “No.” Cordy turned around and scowled and Willow, looking mousier than ever, moused off and his behind Oz. Just to make things super-duper clear in the Xander, this-is-your-life-of-idiocy department, Cordy grabbed her recently impaled side and winced.

“Can we please remain focused, people? I am fairly well certain that our impending apocalypse trumps whatever petty personal differences we may be experiencing at the moment,” Giles said, his voice stern.

He looked up from his books and issued a general glower with teacher-like efficacy, causing everyone – even sprightly, mouthy Buffy 1.0 – to snap to.

:: Xander stopped and shook his head in amazement. ::

Efficacy? Man, I really must be in high school; I’m remembering vocab words! he thought. The role reversal, with General Buffy reduced to one of the rank and file and the G-Man large and In-Charge, was a little squicky, too.

“Umm, Xand… we kinda need that book now. You know, the one you said you went to get… umm, fifteen minutes ago?” Willow piped up whilst just barely peeking out from behind Oz’s shoulder.

Willow: “Sure. No problem.”

Xander was relieved to find that even in Bizarro Back-in-Time land, Willow was still Mission Girl… she was just Mission Girl who was afraid to talk to or interact with him at all as long as Oz was around.

:: Dutifully, he hoped up the stairs and into the stacks, avoiding all physical contact with any of his youthful counterparts. It just seemed safer that way. As he recalled, this was the era in which the touchy-feeliness was the biggest big bad of them all. ::

Ah, the simple days…

And that’s when things got weird – well, weirder, anyway.

Twelfth grade Anya stepped out of one of the aisles, looking strangely skinny and angular, but definitely healthy and alive – and holding a rather large, musty-looking book with gold whatchamacallits (V-ACE or V-Oz? I can never get that right.) glinting off the leather bindings.

“It’s right here, you big dope!”

:: Xander started. He was pretty sure his heart stopped for a split second and that his mouth hung open. ::

Dope? Hey, that’s my line!

“Did you know that the male brain operates at only five-sixths the speed of the female brain? It does. Even in demons. D’Hoffryn has only five-sixths the mental processing power of his demons, and yet he’s still the boss. Go figure,” she rolled her eyes and stomped her foot in frustration.

She looked cute. He’d forgotten how she used to wear her hair in that cute, short bob of hers.

Anya: “Anya! You’re ali --”

“That’s why I had to wait so long for you get here: slow processing power. And now you won’t even take the stupid book.”

Xander: “I don’t care about the book.”

He reached out his hands and took a step toward Anya.

He may not have cared about the book, but apparently, the book was all she cared about. Scrunching up her nose in that patented look of Anya-esque confusion, she looked down at it and snorted.

“The Book of Coming Forth By Day: with new translations by R.R. Rinefeld,” she read aloud. “Coming Forth by Day? Must not be for vampires, then. Or werewolves. Oh – and this R.R. guy has got to be using a pseudonym. No one names kids with that much alliteration.”

:: Xander chuckled softly and took another step forward. It was her. It really was her. ::

Anya: “Anya, I -- ”

From down below, someone called Xander’s name. He didn’t recognize the voice. Maybe it was Faith? Had Faith been in the library? Xander couldn’t remember.

Concerned, Anya held out the book with one hand and used the other to do that cute, picking-at-her-lip thing that she did whenever she was both really, really worried and also really, really anxious about doing the wrong thing.

“So you’ll take it? The book, I mean?” she asked.

“Xander!” someone called again, and this time it was British, and so easy to identify as General Giles.

Anya locked and held Xander’s eyes – that’s right, eyes. Plural. He had two of them.

:: Just to be sure, he blinked one eye, then the other. No blindness. No empty sockets. No pirate fashion statements. He was whole again – young and whole. ::

“You’ll take it?” she asked again.

:: Xander reached out for the book, his hand brushing Anya’s in the process. ::

As he did so, his heart gave another little lurch. She was… warm. Her skin was warm and soft and oh-so-touchable. No cuts. No evil, nasty slashes. No scary eyes. Her hair color left a little to be desired (Xander had never really liked the darker shades on Anya), but that was all part and parcel with the genuine articleness of it all. She was Anya. She was…

Anya: “Real.”

Anya cocked her head and frowned.

“Of course I’m real. What else would I be? Have you been eating too many twinkies again? You know those rot your brains.”

Suddenly in all-knowing ex-demon mode, Anya nodded and insisted:

“They really do. Twinkies are carrier vessels for the larva of the Kry’po’tnudnk demon. They feed on the chemicals that induce and control human emotions and are the real cause of Depression. That’s why modern medicine can’t find a cause; they don’t know what they’re looking for. In fact…”

:: Xander tried to stay. He really did. He grabbed the book and held on for dear life – held onto Anya’s hand for her life, but her voice just droned on and on about Twinkies and Kry-something demons as the stacks dissolved around them and the world returned to… ::



**********


The kitchen?

:: From the kitchen table onto which his head had apparently lolled, Xander looked up at Gwen and Spike – Faith and Giles my eye socket! – and blinked one eye.

Nothing happened.

:: He blinked the other eye and the world went dark. ::

:: Then, sitting up, he used his sleeve to wipe as discreetly as possible at the embarrassing puddle of drool that remained where his mouth had been. ::

Gwen and Spike: “Uh… so… this is what I get for cutting out the coffee. Think I’ll just, umm, mosey on over to bed now.”

*Mosey?* I am well and truly wigged. I really do need sleep.

Gwen: “’Night, Gwen,”

:: This, he said with a nod. After a long pause, he nodded at Spike, too, and added: ::

Spike: “Burn Boy.”

:: And with that, Xander shuffled off to his room at Zombie speed. ::

He’d already had his Anya dream for the night, it seemed. So he may as well catch some of those much-needed Zs of his.

:: Twinkies? Really? he wondered, shaking his head as he entered his bedroom. ::

He was pretty sure he was asleep before he even managed to fall down on top of the bed.

[Lyri]

"That was...weird."

::Gwen had, of course, noticed that Xander had fallen asleep at the table, his forehead resting on one hand, so that they both got one of those little red pressure mark-thingies. His hot chocolate grew cold, but she let him sleep. She'd realized earlier how tired he looked, and she figured he could use a nap, even if it was at the kitchen table.

::But his abrupt wake-up and even more abrupt exit left Gwen wondering what was going on in that head of his. He didn't look as though he'd been dreaming, he looked as though he'd been sleeping the sleep of the truly exhausted.

::She turned and looked at Spike.::

Spike: "Has he always been that weird, or is this a new addition?"

[Mesektet Ra]

Gwen: “Hey, look! It’s the English Patient.”

Spike scowled. Bloody hell. I knew this was a bad idea. He rolled his eyes.

Spike: “I mean… want some hot chocolate? We stole Andrew’s marshmallows. A little lacking in platelets for your taste, but still good and sticky-fingers fresh.”

Spike chugged down some more of his blood. The sight of the marshmallows made his heart constrict - Joyce always made hot chocolate for him. He glanced up at Gwen, who pushed her chocolate over to him. He smiled at her, his first smile in a while [even while it pained him to move just about every sodding muscle in his body], and took a hearty sip of the still steaming liquid.

Gwen and Spike: “Umm… so… this urn thingie, what’s it look like? Egyptian urn, or is it more like Native American? You wanna stay away from the Native American ones… trust me.”

Spike simply shrugged at Xander. "Haven't the slightest," he said easily, his eyes falling on Gwen. Gwen, of course, had been the one who went on the mission to retrieve the urn. Spike hadn't known what their mission entailed until their little group pow-wow a while ago, and according to her, it was boring.

Spike listened intently while she described it. Sounded like...well, just about every other sodding urn he'd ever come into contact with. He shrugged again as she finished. "Don't have a clue, love," he said, taking a sip of his cocoa. "Sounds pretty generic to me. But if Red needs it for some mojo or another, I'm sure it's magical in some way." He smiled a little at her.

He enjoyed this...the complete lack of doing anything. Normally he'd be bored to tears, and he'd pretty much maxed himself out on the brooding-like-Peaches part of the ordeal. Making smalltalk, even if One-Eyed Alex was part of the party, made him feel a bit better.

Speaking of Xander...a soft thunk reverberated from Spike's left. He turned his head, eyebrow cocked, to find Xander passed out on the table, his head resting on his hand.

He looked over a Gwen. "Well, that's..." Spike shook his head. Xander was tired. Spike got that. For all intents and purposes, he should be too - but too much Drusilla on the brain, and the Indra mess...

A glower had started to work it's way over Spike's face just as Xander woke. Spike glanced at him, his eyes narrowing at Xander's goodnight. "Ponce," he bit off as Xander walked away.


Spike: "Has he always been that weird, or is this a new addition?"

Spike smiled a little at that. "I do believe the wanker's always been off his rocker," he said matter-of-factly. Spike settled down a bit, making himself comfortable in the chair now that Xander was gone and he didn't have to field anymore asinine nicknames.

"Haven't talked to you in a while," he remarked, wrapping his cold hands around his mug. "Other than a mission that seemed to be blindingly boring, how're things?"

[Black Eye Guy]

Willow stood in the wide open field behind the castle, the sun was up and it was a warm early afternoon. She stood with her arms folded, the slight breeze tossed her long green dress around. about 100 slayers were standing in their groups and cliques as the last of the girls made their way down from the castle.

After the meeting the night before Willow headed straight for her room and crashed straight away. She had woken up pretty late the next day and headed down to breakfast, but the others weren't up yet. She was supped to be taking a class with the slayers so she had left a voicemail for Xander to head down when he woke up.

"Okay!" Willow bellowed over the chattering slayers, who all immediately went silent and fell into more regulatory positioning. Willow paced across the girls facing her

"So, the bad guys have our weapon. We dont know where they are. We dont know what they want to do with it. And we dont know what our next move is.

We're playing in the dark, so we need to be tighter then ever, we need to know we can rely on you and you have to know you can work to your potential as a team.

So it's time to step it up. Break up into teams of 10, This morning I gave you all a Red arm band or a Blue arm band, your to stick to your colors and you work as a team to take on your enemy, a team of the opposite color.

Every 3 minuets two members of of the team will move to another team, this is to be done with no breaks or stopping. So that means no discussing who's going, your to decide quickly and you also cant stop fighting. This will help you with making snap decision in the field.

Okay Go!"

The girls were slow to start, but eventually got into it. Fighting each opposing team hard, but knowing they could take it.

"Change"

This was amusing to watch as the confusion set in. Some tried to stop and yelled directions to their teams but found themselves punched in the face by the opposing team. Others had 4 members run off then get disorientated as to who should go back.

Willow smiled.

[palabravampiress]

[Xander's room]

Xander awoke feeling not really refreshed, exactly – because, hey, he had a caffeine headache from Hell, one that he could say with a fair amount of accuracy actually trumped getting bonked on the head by various strengths and sizes of demon appendages. Regardless, as he manfully resisted the urge to pop about a gallon of pain pills and went about rejoining the land of the unstinky by performing hygienic feats like brushing his teeth and showering, he at least felt at least as mentally competent as he’d been pre-Nepal-disaster, and that was really saying something.

:: The ritual of readiness completed, Xander checked his voicemail to see if any of the scoobs had required the assistance of someone who was the master of getting knocked in the noggin. Turns out, Willow needed him in training. ::



[Outside the Castle]

:: With a groan, Xander tossed on a fresh set of clothes, squinted in protest at the sparkly, sparkly lights that entered via his working eye socket and seared his Mountain Dew-saturated brain, and made his way to where Miss Mission stood… doing his job. ::

:: Xander’s eye took in Willow’s uber-confident, flowy dress of witchdom. Then, he peered down at his cargo pants and polka-dotted button-up. Finally, he winced. ::

“Change!” she roared.

:: Xander winced again. ::

Willow: “Hey.”

:: He rubbed his temples. ::

Willow: “Listen to you with the booming vocals. And to think I remember the days when you barely spoke above a mouse-like peep. Granted, that was before our friends started turning into rodents on a disturbingly regular basis, but I digress.”

:: He strode up to her and offered a weak smile. ::

Willow: “So, you rang?”

[Black Eye Guy]

Willow watched as the slayers began to get in sync with each other, they began to work as a team.



Willow: “Hey.”

:: He rubbed his temples. ::

Willow: “Listen to you with the booming vocals. And to think I remember the days when you barely spoke above a mouse-like peep. Granted, that was before our friends started turning into rodents on a disturbingly regular basis, but I digress.”

Willow: “So, you rang?”

"Hey", She smiled at him, he was looking tired and not really ready for a proper training session. She felt kinda bad about having him come down to her now.

"I still am that quiet, mousey girl"

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw one of the girls take a propper blow to her face, she spun around, and slammed her hands together. All the girls stopped fighting and turned to face her.

"It's time to up the anti. You know you have to take it easy on each other so it's time for a foe you can pummel."

She spun to nearest tree and threw her arm out towards it, yellow lightning like energy crackled around her hand before if flew from it, across the plain and hit the tree. A thunderous crack echoed around the area and the tree suddenly pulled itself up from the earth and seemed to stretch as it's branches reached up towards the skies.

She threw out her other arm towards a lake that was off in the distance, again the energy smashed into the lake, and with a crash this giant snake like demon that was formed from water, sprung from the lake and slithered across the grass, making it's way towards the horrified girls.

Willow turned back to Xander.

"Sorry were we're we? Oh yeah, I haven't changed that much just got a bit more commandy."

She smiled at him. Then looked around at the monsters making their way towards the girls.

"We totally need one of those X-Men training rooms...

Anyway, I was hopening for some help from research boy. You up for it, some old fashioned us in a Library, Donuts and lots-o-book reading?

You know the Urn I sent Gwen to get, it's similar to the one we used to bring Buffy back, I'm hoping to restore Fred back to... well Fred. I haven't told anyone yet just encase I can't do it, so keep it secret.

[Spirit_Of_Fred]

:: Amy sat upright on the bed with a sudden jerk. She turned to face her window and immediately yanked her arm up to shade her eyes. Instead of the serene darkness she had expected, blinding sunlight shone through her window. Slowly, she realizing that her whirlwind of thoughts had put her to sleep. ::

:: Still a little drowsy, she stood up and changed into a new outfit for her new day. Upon completing this mundane, everyday process, she began to wake up a little more, and could not help but let her thoughts stew once again. She turned that same phrase over and over again in her mind: What was wrong with her? ::

:: The calming long night's sleep had made her mind easier to reassure. She was half-convinced that it was only a fluke...but that other half just was not buying it. Clearly, if I'm messing up, it told her, something must be wrong! She tried to think logical thoughts. Willow, though it ate at her to admit it, was also a powerful witch. But not as powerful! She just had to add that last part. The point was, from the stories she had heard, even the mighty Willow messed up a spell now and again. She was sure (or at least so she told herself) that she could perform any other spell, any other time, no problem. Including now. ::

:: She walked over to her drawer, which she had managed to fill with a few of her belongings already, by hand no less, as she had been too shaken at that point to try a spell. But she was going to figure this out. She was going to get her confidence back if it killed her. She had things to accomplish in her life, none of which could be possible without her coveted magical abilities at their best. ::

:: She lifted a red shirt out of the drawer and laid it flat on the bedspread. Dropping to her knees so that her nose was just level with the shirt, she took a deep breath and began to focus on levitating the shirt. Basic stuff. If she could not do that, then there truly must be something wrong with her! ::

:: She kept her eyes shut tight as she concentrated, afraid to look when the results appeared. She managed to relax herself to a significant degree, knowing full well that she could never do the spell if she was so tense. Still, her remaining nerves kept her eyes closed. After about a minute had passed, she knew she had to look. She held her breath. Slowly, she opened her right eye just the tiniest crack. She widened the crack, hesitantly, so it opened all the way. Then the other eye. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the shirt floating gently above the bed. She let it fall back down. ::

:: A rush of almost childlike glee overcame her. Knowing that, at least, she could still do a simple spell was a good sign. With confidence returned and renewed, she spoke. ::

Shirt: "Incindere!"

:: Instantly, the shirt was set ablaze with just that word and a wave of her hand. She watched as the newly formed flames danced and licked at the crimson fabric. The smell of burning cloth quickly became her favourite smell in the world. She never liked that shirt anyway. ::

:: She smiled. This was all good. Very good. If nothing else, at least she knew she could always count on magic. Still, she was compelled to try out a couple of other spells, just to be sure. She turned back to her drawer to retrieve some more things. ::

[AngelRPG08]

::Angel sat broodingly in the dark watching Buffy as she walked a way. He worried about he deeply. He had half a notion to run after her and make her talk to him. But he didn't. Instead he just watched until she went out of sight. He looked out among the horizon. He could smell the dawn coming. He decided it would be in his best interest to head back in doors before the sun came up. He headed towards the double glass doors that lead back into the library. He wonder where Giles was as he entered the library. Giles was probably in his office with a desk full of research books. He walked across the library to the oak door that lead to the hallway. As he made his way he could visualize the meeting that had just taken place. The way Buffy looked during the meeting. Buffy looking at Spike in an understanding way. And...Buffy and Spike! Angel couldn't help but be jealous of Spike. Of course Spike didn't have some damn curse keeping him from Buffy. Things between him and Buffy had just never been the same since finding out her and him set off the gypsy curse. Damn cursed gypsies! And moving on hadn't been as easy to do. Cordy was dead. Nina was nice but he just didn't have the same feelings for her as he had had for Buffy or Cordy. He knew the only thing he could have with Buffy was just friends. But that was hard at best. After all he reminded himself that's why he left Sunnydale in the first place and moved to LA. Now being here around her stirred up all those lost and forgotten feelings. Not to mention all this time he worried that being in Scotland would bring back all the awful memories of all the dastardly murderous deeds of his days as Angelus. It was enough to get him worked up. He knew he would never be able to sleep now. He hadn't realized how long he had been walking in the hallway until he heard voices that sound like the were coming from the courtyard. It sounded like Willow shouting commands. Stopping as he realized he had probably walked right past his room. It was daylight. He couldn't go back outside until dusk. Sure there was plenty of places inside the castle he could go without worrying about being a pile of dust. There was his room which was where he was headed now, The kitchen where he was sure to find some suitable pigs blood or the like, then there was the training room. He finally came across the door to his room. He stepped inside. He thought he should get some rest but too many things were bothering him at the moment. Usually when things frustrated him he found it easier to deal with them by doing some tai chi. He open the dresser drawer and took out some more suitable clothing to workout in. He changed clothes in the dim light of the room and laid the others on the back of the chair in the corner. He left his room and walked down the hallway to the stairway and headed down stairs to the training room. Once in the training he looked around. It was a nice big room and it was quiet Angel thought. He started his exercise by doing some simple tai chi exercises and letting go of everything that was frustrating him.::

[palabravampiress]

[Outside the Castle]

With emasculating efficiency, Willow mojoed up some training exercises straight from the Hellmouth itself and then turned back to the conversation as if nothing had happened. Because, yeah. For an all-powerful wiccan goddess lady, conjuring up evil trees is nothing.

:: Xander backed up and, with an air of injured pride that was only half in jest, he held his hands out in a placating gesture. ::

Willow: “Whoa. Hey. Go easy on the anthropomorphic foliage there, Will. No way am I gonna be able to replicate that experience when it’s back to the training room and the Puffy Xander suit.”

He didn’t state the obvious, which was that they would inevitably be back to the training room. Not only did Ansara and co. have a nasty habit of blowing up each new Scooby central just as soon as they unpacked, but Scotland also had this pesky little thing called winter. Currently, the weather wasn’t all that different from their usual sunny SoCal fare. It was a little less balmy, a little more windy, and a lot more rainy, but otherwise bearable. Actually, the lack of sun-shinyness was good for his pasty white complexion. He no longer stuck out like a vampire in a tanning salon every time he stepped outdoors. In fact, he was pretty sure he could even venture out onto what passed as a beach in Scotland without seeming to radiate an inhuman white glow. Come September or October, though, Xander was pretty sure that would change – the comfort, not the glowing. The glowing was there to stay. Anya had called him her “night light.”

Of course, Will will probably just magic up some ice monsters and turn the vaulting horse into a living ram rod or something, Xander thought ruefully.

Meanwhile, safe for the time being from the ravages of snow and wind chill factors, Willow distracted the mini-slayers with leaves, water, and other outdoorsy perils sure to wreak havoc the heads of the more carefully coiffed among them. With that, she leaned in conspiratorially and trusted Xander with the inside info on Girl Lightning’s urn thingie. Apparently, its purpose was to re-Fred Fred.

:: Xander held up a finger. ::

Willow: “Okay, first off: research boy? How come Giles always gets to be “Book Man,” but I’m Research Boy? In the memory of all of my prodigiously clocked field time, I protest my sidekick status.”

:: Then, more seriously, he leaned forward and added: ::

Willow: “And correct me if I’m wrong, here, but won’t a certain anti-social ex-God King have a little something to say about being booted out of her shell of choice?”

:: Balmy weather notwithstanding, Xander shivered. ::

Something about an even less-amused-than-usual Illyria gave him the chills. No lie. Genuine ooglie booglies were experienced. Maybe it was his history of tangling with demon-type ladies who wanted to kill him in various creative and painful ways or maybe it was the fact that Illyria had actually been helping the good guys pretty much since she took over Fred’s body, but Xander wasn’t sure he was entirely on board with this idea. It seemed likely to result in his death on one hand or the loss of a powerful asset on the other – maybe even both.

Then there’s the resurrecting someone’s soul thing to consider. Never goes quite as well as you might think, Xander thought, his memory flashing back on the stricken look on Buffy’s face and the blood dripping from her scraped knuckles the day she’d crawled out of her grave. Also, the Buffster’s woeful and off-key rendition of the word “Heaaaaaaven” came to mind. That particular memory still grated like nails on an increasingly obsolete chalkboard. No way did he want Fred staging a repeat performance.

Besides, Anya was a much better singer. If anyone was going to be coming back from the dead in order to reprise the angsty back-from-the-dead song and dance number, it would be her. She was more inclined toward the retro pastiche genre, anyway. From what he’d heard of Fred, he pegged her as more of an upbeat pop or musical finale kinda girl.

Willow: “I mean, not that it wouldn’t be great to have another braniac on board, but last time I checked – and I mean really checked – bringing people back was a big no-no.”

:: So saying, Xander leaned back and folded his arms. He also raised his brow over his patch for effect. It looked more dramatic that way. ::

It wasn’t that he didn’t wanna go into full-on research mode, just like back in the good old days. It was just that… he wasn’t sure he wanted to tamper with resurrection.

Xander: “Also, I’m not sure where the closest Dunkin’ Doughnuts is. Seriously… do they even eat doughnuts in Scotland?”

[Black Eye Guy]

Xander: “Also, I’m not sure where the closest Dunkin’ Doughnuts is. Seriously… do they even eat doughnuts in Scotland?”

"I don't think so, but if you help me out oh wonderful book man I can make sure we get some, or that we go to some I can get us anywhere you want"

She smiled a huge grin across her face, hoping her cuteness would win him over.

"But yes your right there are somethings that are a bit iffy about this, which is why I was thinking we don't go about telling the 'easily-angered-blue-terminator like thing'. And also why I'm asking YOU to help me out, so we don't go about telling people about the spell, People will have to much of a stigma about it."

She glanced around at the girls who had recovered at the shock of their surrounding's attacking them and were trying to fight them, she smiled as tried to jump onto the back of the water monter but fell straight through it instead.

"This isn't a resurrection spell really, that thing just kinda absorbed Freds soul, her memory's are still in there so some part of her is still there. It's just about getting her back on the outside, it's a little harder since her soul was apparently destroyed but if there's a chance..."

She turned again to face the demons, watching as they battled the slayers, who were defending themselves perfectly. Of course there was no actual danger, the demons were fully under Willows control. And even though she knew that she could help shake the feeling they were being watched or the something was concentrating on her creations.

"Trust me Xander there's a good chance this will work, I felt her in there back when we first met in the ally, that spell we did with Gwen. There was something there"

She though back to that moment, it seems so long ago that they had gotten word of Angels troubles in the ally and desperate need for their help. Showing up, and using Gwens power amplified through Illyria, so much had gone on since, that seemed like a walk in the park compared to what they were up against.

[Lyri]

::Blinking up into the dull Scottish sunlight, Gwen sighed.::

"And to think I used to complain about how hot it was in LA. I promise, no more complain. Just send me back!"

::She laughed at herself as she took her coffee out onto the balcony of her room. Situated only on the first floor of the castle, her room over looked a huge expanse of open field, a place she was sure would have been used for ceremonies and special parties, ones all the fancy English people with posh voices would attend in their Rolls Royces and Bentleys.

::Right now, it was covered with super-strong teenage girls, and one mega-strong red-headed witch.

::Gwen didn't exactly know what Willow was doing with the Slayers that morning, it was the first time she had seen the witch even interact with all of them at once, let alone lead a training session. It seemed odd and impractical.

::But once the trees and the lake joined the fight, Gwen understood what was going on. Willow was using her magic to gie the girls something real to fight against, to keep their training up to standard. To stop them getting sloppy.

::Gwen laughed loudly when Isabel tried to straddle the back of the water demon and fell straight through it, landing in a puddled mess on the grass. She knew that, eventually, the Slayers would work themselves into a team and come up with a way to defeat the monsters of Willow's creation, but until they did, it was damn fun to watch.::

"Gotta hand it to the witch, she sure knows how to put on a show."

[palabravampiress]

Willow smiled her how-can-you-resist-me-smile-of-cuteness-and-other-blackmaily things, and Xander was won over. Not that the promise of, say, Dunkin’ Doughnuts from anywhere in the world didn’t go a long way toward persuading him.

Willow: “You are gonna pay up on that one, Missy. Mark my words. Doughnuts will be had – in copious, fat-building, borderline evil amounts.”

Fun quippage all aside, Willow told Xander to trust her. And he did trust her. Implicitly. Except, you know, when she was all veiny and trying to destroy the world. Then? Not so much with the trust thing. But still with the love. And besides, he’d rather see her puppy dog eyes than her black, cracked-out-on-mojo eyes any day of the week. Puppy-dog eyes were definitely of the good.

:: Xander smiled back, growing thoughtful as she explained her reasoning. He even did the rub-the-chin thing so as to look extra wise. If he’d had glasses, he would have cleaned them. ::

Beyond Willow, out in the training field, the girls were fighting – and failing.

Willow: “Good points, all. I’m your man – er, and by that, I mean in the totally platonic, non-formalwear-induced, I-am-completely-on-board-with-your-plan kinda way.”

:: He shuffled his feet nervously. ::

The last thing (or maybe the *first* thing) he needed was for the ghost of girlfriends past to come shower him with rabid rabbits or something.

Willow: “You know. Just to be clea