A massive thank you to the amazing Eyesthatslay who created the stunningly beautiful banner below. I just love it to bits - thank you so much sweetie.




Many many thanks to two very wonderful girls who have sliced their way through all my typos and sorted me and the chapter out with their betaing, patience and hard work Megan and Lmbossy both of you are truely fantastic *hugs*. I really couldn't have done it without both of you...


He was sure that Buffy was making him live out some long suppressed Tom Cruise fan girl moment. Spike gritted his teeth as his poor abused nuts were tightly compressed between two pieces of the harness running between his legs. “Careful, pet! If you want to have any fun in the next few weeks you might want to loosen the slack,” he grumbled quietly and reached down to massage the much abused area.

Spike cricked his neck and glared up at the apex of the rotunda, curled back his top lip and gave a good impersonation of an irritated Doberman. Well, a lame arse impersonation of a growling Doberman, swinging about a hundred feet from the ground dressed up a la Tom Cruise in that first Mission Impossible flick. ‘Thank god I don’t sweat, cos right about now there would be a sodding lake under me, let alone one poncey drip to trigger the alarm!’ Spike had never had many issues with height in the past, but swinging so far above the marble floor of the Watchers’ library had started to give him the twitches. There was nothing between him and a tragically unfunny squished face but his girl’s muscles. Spike stopped growling, realising almost too late that if he pissed her off she might just let go for the hell of it—and a mouthful of shattered fangs wasn’t something he really wanted to experience in a hurry.

“Oi, Slayer! Why do I have to go first?” He barely managed to suppress the whine in his voice.

Buffy tore her appreciative eyes away from the perky Spike butt that was neatly framed by the straps of the harness and snickered. “Age before beauty?” she offered lamely as she released the rope gradually and lowered her swinging vampire down another few feet. Tara was curled up on the roof next to the giggling slayer, watching Spike’s black clad legs pinwheel as he swung not so gently from the sudden drop. Her full lips curved in a cheeky grin at the colourful hissed curses that filtered up through the round window they had forced open for their break in.

“I don’t have to go down, do I?” Tara peeked over the edge of the metal sill and grimaced at the long drop that Spike was halfway through traversing.

“Nope.” Buffy checked the slack and then started to let Spike down further. “Spike and I will meet up with Kristen and find the book you need. You can sit up here and enjoy the view.” She gestured behind her towards the Thames and the midnight sky over London. In the distance, Tara could see the Houses of Parliament and Saint Stephens Tower.

Tara’s smooth forehead creased slightly. “There is something about that girl that just doesn’t…”

“Sit right?” Buffy interrupted Tara with a nod, “I know what you mean. She is like so un-watcherly it’s freaky. And she’s the first American Watcher I’ve come across. Well, not that I’ve met many tweedies, but then again she doesn’t wear tweed and has a tattoo. Did you see it? I know, I know! Giles has a tattoo but hers is like huoooge. But then Wes knows her, so, I guess we can trust her.” She eyed Spike’s butt through the window. “Well it’s too late now not to trust her.”

Tara tried not to blink at the stream of free verse that had poured out of her friend’s mouth. “What tattoo?” she asked curiously, her mind managing to latch onto the one thing that tweaked her consciousness. She’d not seen anything tattoo like on the redhead who, as far as they knew, was currently sneaking in through the front door.

“On her wrist.” Buffy frowned. “How could you not have seen it?”

“It was on her neck,” Spike called up from inside the dome. “Right colourful,” he added.

“I never saw anything on her neck or on her wrist.” Tara frowned worriedly. Something really wasn’t right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kristin swiped her access card through the security machine and waited patiently for the LED display to switch from amber to green. She nodded absently at the snoozing guard before pushing the gate open and walking confidently through the lobby to the lifts at the end. Her high heels clicked loudly on the Sienna marble floor and echoed through the deserted entrance hall.

As she waited for the lift to arrive, the redhead glanced sharply down at her wrist and then slapped her hand over it. She glanced nervously over her shoulder at the napping guard to check if he’d seen anything. The old man’s head was tipped back, his mouth was partially open and occasionally he emitted a snorting snore.

“Don’t do this!” she begged, all traces of the Texan drawl gone. Kristin groaned, and then squeezed her hand over her thin wrist and sighed. “Not after all these months of being good, now you want to start flashing bits of yourself all over the place? I haven’t finished snooping around here. The family is relying on both of us, and if you mess it up you know who you’ll have to answer to!”

She cocked her head as if listening to a voice and then shook it, her auburn curls falling from the loose chignon. As her curls settled on her shoulders some of them lengthened and twisted down to her waist. “We owe Wes a favour, remember? And you know I always honour our debts, so enough with the showing off and let me do this without us breaking our cover.” She sighed, and shrugged. “I dunno how long it’ll take. I want to search through the Watcher records some more. Grams wants all references to the family erased and soon. And that won’t happen if you get us caught.”

The bell pinged as the lift arrived; Kristin tilted her head forward and glared down at the palm of her hand. “God damnit, I know the glamour is wearing off. Stop distracting me, okay?” She growled as she quickly twisted the longer locks of hair up and tucked them into her clip.

“We have got to get in and out before the old farts realise there’s a vamp in here. I’ve no idea how long the obscuration spell will cover Spike.” She nodded and sighed. “I know – I know, it’s not my best work, but in a girl’s defence I am working under pressure here. I’m stretched thin with all the glamours for you and me as it is!” she exclaimed and then
threw herself at the opening doors of the lift.

“Finally.” She jabbed at the buttons and then slapped her wrist angrily as the skin stretched upwards slightly. “Quit showing off!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ow! Not now!”

Angel lurched backwards and hit the sidewalk with a thud, his hands gripping at his temples as a montage of images filled his mind. Connor and Lorne watched grimly as the heavyset vampire writhed in agony on the pavement. The flashes had become a regular occurrence, but now they discounted them as fast as they arrived. There was never anything to them. Just flashes of Spike and Buffy, talking, fighting and kissing, and yet still no visions of potential victims.

“I don’t get why the visions aren’t working anymore. Is it because he’s a vampire or something? Maybe the reception is scrambled cos of the demon? Ohhh! Maybe it’s because of the whole bond thing he and Spike had before they headed to London?” Conner hissed between gritted teeth at Lorne. He watched worriedly as his father let out a sigh and began to sit up. Angel shook his head and tried to clear his mind. “Dad?”

Angel let Lorne help him up. He reached out and clasped Connor’s shoulder and steadied himself. “I’m fine. It’s okay.” His broad shoulders slumped. “I don’t get it. Why the hell am I only having visions of Buffy and Spike? How am I supposed to help people if the visions are screwy?”

Lorne opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut. He shook his head, his bright red eyes gleaming with sympathy for the vampire’s dilemma. Connor remained mute next to the brightly clad demon. His one and only suggestion a few days back of hitting his dad on the head to reboot his brain had been greeted with a brooding session from his father that had rivalled any other brood he’d ever had. Connor still thought it might work, but he wasn’t about to try it out.

Angel eyed him curiously. “What?”

Lorne buffed his nails on his jacket and examined them. “Well…” He trailed off, reluctance oozing from every green pore. He didn’t want to speak ill of the missing presumed dead but…

Connor cocked his head and stared at the tall demon, wondering what the tall red-horned singer was going to say and why it was making him squirm like a Quorinth beast on heat.

“Well, what?” Angel repeated with a sigh, surprised that the normally verbose demon was now struck mute.

“Maybe the visions aren’t what you need to help people? What did you do before on the Hellmouth?” Lorne mentally cringed, waiting for Angel to leap to his erstwhile seer’s protection, but to his shock there were no voluble curses or instant leaping to the justification of Cordelia’s contributions to the team. ‘Maybe the Princess really has burned all her bridges?’ He winced guiltily at how quickly she had slipped in their estimations, but the teenager was a case in point. He had been resolutely ignored by the seer. All the promises of school, new clothes— hell, even companionship – had been cast aside. Not to mention the way she had treated Groo and Wes. Lorne sighed, crestfallen at the lost potential in the former cheerleader. He had seen so much when she had first sang for him, and then Cordy had sacrificed it all for her own greed and ends.

Angel squinted through bloodshot eyes and rubbed his temples tiredly. “Yeah, you might have a point.”

It was something that recently he had come to consider. Especially after seeing Buffy and Spike interact and how they worked together, without any so-called divine intervention. He had wondered a lot about the visions. Had they been a help? Or a distraction? Why had Doyle chosen Cordy as the one to inherit them? Had there been a mystical reason? Or was it just because he’d fancied the brunette and wanted to leave something behind of himself within her Angel shuddered at that disturbing image. All in all, watching the Hellmouth contingent work seamlessly together without guidance from the Powers had started a kernel of thought within the ensouled vampire, an idea that was slowly taking root. All of them at AI would work towards a common goal, one without distractions. They would help the helpless, albeit mortal or demonic in origin.

“I do?” Lorne asked, shock colouring his voice. He’d expected to be kicked from one end of Rodeo Drive to the other by an incensed Angelcakes, but instead the big lug was nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, you probably do.” Angel glanced over at his quiet son. “I think we’ve all relied on the visions too much and forgot there are nightly victims in LA.” He paused and took an unnecessary breath. “And not only from the demonic elements.” Angel grimly recalled the one case he had been involved in just before the Amarra incident with Spike. There had been no mystical elements there, only an abusive boyfriend. He still felt a tinge of pride over the way Rachael had finally stood up for herself. “Somewhere along the line I forgot about helping the helpless, didn’t I?” Angel rubbed his eyes with his fingers and let out a soulful sigh. “Maybe it’s time we got back into that?”

The other two stared at him in mute sympathy, both realising that this wasn’t a time for recriminations and lamenting what could have been. They silently acknowledged that it was a time for new beginnings.

For all of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The small predator stumbled to a halt, almost falling over its paws in its haste to come to a perfect standstill. Freezing, it tried to make itself as invisible as possible. They were back. Invading his territory and threatening his family. He hated them. They stood in the shadows and corners.

Watching.

Waiting.

Their presence to all the others in its pride went unseen and un-remarked no matter how much noise he made. He and his sister were the only ones to bear witness to the interloper’s ugliness. They would be the ones to stand against the darkness.

“Seriously, those two kittens of Buffy’s and Dawn’s are doing it again!” Anya exclaimed. “I do not understand this game of theirs. Is it normal? Are they defective or something?”

Wesley glanced up from his seat at the dining table—which had become his unofficial study—and squinted over his glasses at the small white furred ball. William’s hackles rose as he stared fixedly into the corner of the room. His pale blue eyes were unblinking as his gangly body crouched defensively between his human pets and the shadows. He shifted slightly as he felt his sister pad up behind him and hiss. Gathering courage from her, William straightened slightly. The fur on his spine stood up in a ridge that led down to the bottle brush that was his tail; he gave out a teeny snarl and then growled at them.

“Wesley, why are they doing that all the time when we’re here?” Anya pointed at the two kittens, their fur on end as they glared at the corner. “I really don’t like it, make them stop!”

The dark haired man leant over the table and peered at the odd behaviour of the felines and shrugged dismissively. “Cats do that.”

Anya glared at him. “Cats do that…” she muttered under her breath as she stomped out to the kitchen. “And suddenly he’s an expert on cats. I’ll show him…”

~~~~~~~~~~

Spike landed with an ungainly thump. His usual innate vampiric agility had been left about thirty feet above his head when the bored slayer holding the end of his line had decided to speed his descent and let him drop like a stone. He rolled onto his back and managed to suppress the girly whimper of pain that was welling up in his throat. Instead, he unhooked the harness, quickly checked that the boys were still attached and then twisted the rope around his left wrist, pulling the rope taut ready for the slayer to abseil down.

“That must’ve hurt.” Kristen sat down next to the supine vampire, crossed her legs and cocked her head in question. Her glasses were perched pertly on the end of her nose, gleaming in the dull light of the library.

Spike shot her a quelling glare, then turned his attention to the blonde sylph that was now zooming down the rope and waving with her free hand at Glinda. The Wiccan’s pale face was peering through the rotunda, a full moon lighting her from behind and casting an ethereal glow around her flaxen hair.

“You know you might wanna move a bit, cos she’s gonna hit…oh…” Kristen blushed and looked away from the intimate scene in front of her.

Spike grunted as one of Buffy’s knees dug painfully into his side. Far be it from him to say that they were bony. He liked his slayer warm and snugly in his arms - not pouting angrily at him and smacking him in the back of the head. But her knees were lethal weapons in themselves. Her tongue, however, now that was a different story. It was soft and plump and currently investigating the curve of his neck. He hummed happily as she caught his lips in a deep kiss.

“Um, hey, guys? Maybe you can make with the face washing sometime later on. You know when we’re not sneaking into the Council library to steal stuff?”

Buffy pulled away from her vampire’s lips and sighed. “Sorry, but you know…with the inadvertent straddling and stuff…my bad.” Spike smirked at the faint blush on his girl’s cheeks and sprang back to his feet, pulling the slayer with him.

“Lead the way, watcher girl.” Spike gestured around the circular library, his sharp eyes not missing a thing as he scanned the shadows for anything out of the norm. His arm curled around Buffy’s slim waist and he tucked his fingers into her waistband, revelling in the soft warmth of her skin.

Buffy glanced up and waved at Tara reassuringly and then gestured for her to duck down and hide. Tara gave her a tentative wave and then ducked down. She sat with her back pressed against the brickwork and stared blindly up at the stars. In all her wildest imaginings she had never thought she would be party to breaking into a place and stealing!

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, so does anyone know what I am looking for?” Buffy swiped her hair off her face and blew out a breath. They’d only just started searching and already she was bored. She ruefully admitted that she was less with the bookishness’ and more with the action gal. Looking up at her vampire perched on a ladder, she admired his tight behind. ‘Then again, there were perks to the whole being in a library—firm Spike butt.’

“It’s a folio – Glinda said its a few sheets of paper in a leather bound holder tied with ribbons. The title is Clavian commentaries.” Spike shifted his weight on the library ladder and pushed gently, letting the small rollers attached top and bottom to move him along the stacks. He managed to suppress the urge to roll the perimeter of the dome, yodelling as he spun around and carried on flicking through the volumes searching for the elusive folio. The silence of the Watchers’ Library was filling him with memories of his mortal life, one spent in places such as these. William had been familiar with the British Library. Not the modern carbuncle that currently squatted on Euston Road doing an admirable impersonation of a public lavatory, but the original one connected to the British Museum. William had found peace there and a sense of belonging that he had not found anywhere else during his short lived life. Spike had not really found it either. Dru had been too high maintenance to say the least. No, he hadn’t found true peace until recently. He shot a fond glance over at his girl and smirked at the frown of concentration on her face as she flicked through the leather tomes.

Kristin glanced up from the card file she was searching through and pulled out a pale green card and waved it in the air. “I found it…well, I found a reference number.” She shot off in the opposite direction and disappeared through one of the four archways that were placed at each point of the compass in the dome. “Yeah! I got it! Cool!”

Spike shook himself out of his reminiscing and slid down the mahogany library ladder. He helped Buffy up and they headed off after the triumphant watcher.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s it? A nasty piece of rusty iron with holes in it?” Buffy held up the sole content of the folio and squinted at the dirty piece of metal. She’d been expecting a load of notes, in ancient ‘I-can’t-read-it-unless-I’m-Giles,’ not a grotty piece of metal that looked like it had been soaking at the bottom of a pond for centuries. “Huh, kinda a downer, what with the abseiling into enemy territory, sneaking around and then all we get is this…” She tossed it over onto the scarred wooden research table and half-heartedly shook the folio. “There’s nothing hidden in the lining is there?” she asked hopefully. Spike ran his dextrous fingers down the seams, checking for small cuts, and then shook his head.

Kristen sighed. “I know. I was kinda expecting something a bit more glamorous. Y’know, something like the directions to the Ark of the Covenant at least. Not tetanus waiting to happen.” She jerked a finger at the corroded metal plate and shook her head.

“Whatever it is, it has to be it. Give it here, luv, and Colomba can have a gander and work it out. Or we can scan it and send an image over to Sunnyhell and the Watcher Boy.” Spike tucked it back in the green leather bound folder and slid it into one of the inner pockets of his duster. “If it gets us one step closer to getting the Niblett back, then good.”

“Yeah, if we can catch up with Willow and Rack, that is,” Buffy muttered despondently. Neither of the blonds noticed the redhead jerk in shock and her eyes narrow in thought.

“We should get outta here, like now.” Kristin hustled out of the inner sanctuary and headed to the lift doors. “You guys good to go with the climbing back up?” She pressed the button and waited.

“Yeah, we’ll meet up tomorrow?” Buffy trotted past, pulling Spike along behind her. She paused and laid a gentle hand on the watcher’s arm. “Thank you for all of this.”

Kristin ducked her head, not wanting to catch Spike or Buffy’s eyes and reveal her confusion and anger at the mention of Rack’s name. She hadn’t really known who they were chasing down, but now she did – it was confusing and she needed time to regroup and decide what course of action to take. It had gone from being a favour for Wes to something more. Something that she wasn’t sure the two champions in front of her would appreciate her interfering with. Not yet.

Spike froze. “Did you hear that?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The targets are in position. Get ready to infiltrate.” Cavanaugh clicked off his mike and turned to face Giles, who was dressed in black and leaning against the railings of the stairwell. “You up for this, Ripper? Not too long in the tooth or anything?” He mocked his former student as he adjusted his backpack. “Heard you’re prone to getting knocked out these days. Try not to get under foot or anything,” Cavanaugh grinned. The rest of his team was stationed at access points, stun grenades and weapons ready for the attack.

“Of course I’m ready. She’s my responsibility. That’s why I asked Travers to let me in on this mission,” Giles growled angrily. Recently his life had taken on a quieter, more even paced feel, one that he was enjoying and this was the last thing he wanted to be involved in. But he had a responsibility to save her from her bad choices and decisions. He had finally started to settle into a routine, researching a book he wanted to write on the migratory patterns of the Delanor clan. He had also managed to make contact with several old friends including his supervisor at the British Museum, and in the last week Olivia had called. All in all he was getting his life back into a routine he liked and now this…

It was as if the Hellmouth was determined not to let go of him, at least not until it had chewed him up and spat his remains back out. Here he was dressed up as a middle-aged SAS agent, lurking in a stairwell ready to pounce on his erstwhile charge and her not so savoury lover. And then what?

“Ready.”

“Yes, you ponce,” Giles hissed.

Before either of them could move or say another word, the building rocked with a massive explosion. Giles watched everything unfold as if it were in slow motion. Cavanaugh whirled and threw himself at the watcher, his lean body covering Giles’s as they hit the stairs and fell head over heels downwards. The door they had been about to enter through blew off its hinges and twisted across the stairwell, hitting the opposite wall and clattering down three flights, barely missing the two men on its way down.

A fireball followed in its wake, flames shooting in all directions as the oxygen burned away. The two black-clad men slumped bonelessly on a small landing.

There was total silence and then the sprinkler system activated.

A/N - comments? Reviews?

There was a lot to catch up on so I hope that the chapter covered bases? If anyone can work out what is going on with Kirstin there's a virtual brownie for them :) Would love to hear what you thought as it has been so long since I posted something am off to chew my nails now.