Buffy’s day improved considerably during her first self-defense class.

The participants were every age, race, walk of life. She’d never witnessed this kind of diversity in one room in Sunnydale. 40 eager students packed the studio.

“The first thing to think about?” She surveyed their faces. “If you’re being attacked, your goal is to get away. Not to hurt the jerk attacking you, but to get yourself safe. Everyone follow?”

There were lots of nods. “We’ll start with some exercises to break an attacker’s hold, but while we’re talking about staying alive, you might want to wear a cross around your neck, too.”

None of her 40 students blinked an eye, and a few fingered the crosses they already wore. “If you don’t have one, the Magic Box down the street has some pretty ones.”

She made a mental note to tell Anya to stock up.

***

“Rupert!”

“Hello, Lydia.”

Giles and Dawn had easily followed the Watcher to her apartment and surprised her as she fumbled for her keys.

“Er, hello.”

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it? May we come in?”

“I … um … it’s the day before the housekeeper …”

Giles and Dawn elbowed their way past Lydia, and she reluctantly followed the pair inside.

“What do you want?”

“I believe that’s my line, Lydia. After all, this has long been my territory.”

“Oh come now, Rupert. It isn’t as if you’ve been filing regular reports.”

“You file reports?” Dawn looked from one adult to the other, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Who is she?”

“Dawn Summers, Lydia Chalmers. Lydia, Dawn.”

“But that’s impossible. You were supposed to disappear.”

Dawn shrugged.

“Surely the Council is aware that the Slayer sacrificed herself in her sister’s place?”

“Of course. But our information indicated that the Key would not survive in this dimension after the threat expired.”

“I don’t think many threats ever truly expire. Now, speaking of threats, what precisely, brings you to our fair city?”

***

Anya rung up another cross and chain, and made a mental note to call her supplier first thing in the morning. Apparently, Sunnydalers had finally figured out that a little faith would go a long way towards saving their necks.

As the customer walked out – again, preferring to wear her purchase instead of taking a bag – Anya turned her attention to the only other person in the shop.

Willow.

With the gang in full research mode, it was impossible to keep Willow out of the shop. But it still seemed like a bad idea, especially while Buffy and Xander were still at work, and Giles had yet to return from his errand. And Amy …

“Willow, what time is it?”

She glanced at her laptop. “Almost 4. Why?”

“Amy was supposed to be here at 3.”

“Maybe she forgot. Want me to call her?”

“I’ll do it.” Anya glanced at her phone list, then keyed in Amy’s cell phone number.

No answer.

“Damn.”

“Want me to try?”

Anya thought about it. “No. Xander bought me a book on supervising staff, and it explained that being firm, but fair, was an important leadership skill. I’ll just wait for Amy to come in and provide an opportunity for …”

“Skill-honage?”

“Right.”

“Lucky Amy.”

***

Buffy was back at the front desk, high on the success of her class, and admiring the broad shoulders of a shirtless hottie on the treadmill.

From the aerobics studio, she could hear an old disco song. Got the love, got the love.

And that was just it, she thought, as Jogger McYummy upped the pace. In quiet moments, she had to admit that her life was looking up. Normal job. Boss with ulterior motives, but at least he knew all her secrets. Based on her brief stint at the DMP, she had to think that would come in handy. Yeah, big threat looming from Miss Worst Nightmare Come True. But when wasn’t there a big threat on the horizon?

Spike was right, she thought. Their relationship was messy, but it wasn’t exactly an abomination. Not with her profession and her dating record.

No, what Buffy detested was the way that being with Spike took her a little more out of the daylight world, and a little deeper into the black.

And if her soul was as charcoal as she feared, she couldn’t afford even one small transgression towards the side of wrong. Earth-shattering sex with Spike? It was like full fat ice cream. You could want it, but you had to know that you’d pay for indulging.

Her eyes followed Joe Shirtless as he cooled down. Now that was more like it. Human, pulse-having and fit. Maybe she should just take to flirting wildly with good-looking guys who stopped in to tone their abs at the Fitness Factory? It was a more promising dating pool than the Doublemeat Palace, at any rate.

Buffy’s eye candy stepped off the treadmill and turned towards her, and she stifled a little groan.

It was Jay.

***

Willow knew Anya was watching her. It made her fidgety.

“Find anything new?”

“Um … maybe.”

“So that’s a no?”

She met Anya’s eyes. “It’s a ‘maybe this should wait until Giles gets here.’”

“Where is Giles? First Amy, now Giles … it’s like the world is ending and everyone forgot to tell us.”

“We should be so lucky.”

The bells chimed and a tweed-clad woman entered, followed closely by Giles and Dawn. The Watcher and the Teenager were glowering; the Stranger was sweating.

“Hi,” Willow ventured, looking at the three questioningly.

“Where is everyone?”

Anya harrumphed. “Good question. Xander should be here in a few minutes, and Buffy promised to come by on her way home from work. But my new clerk? She’s just plain old AWOL.”

“Very well. Anya, Willow, you might remember Lydia Chalmers.”

“Oh … right. From the Council,” Willow remembered aloud.

“She’s the new librarian at my school,” Dawn added.

“Why does the Sunnydale School District keep hiring Englishmen with questionable qualifications to educate our kids?” Anya asked.

Willow shot her a look.

“Just asking.”

They were interrupted by the jangle of the door as Buffy came in, sipping on a smoothie and looking better than anyone would expect.

“Hi guys.”

“Buffy … you look well.”

“Yeah, well, this whole ‘oooh, you’re a demon’ thing sucks. But it doesn’t really make things that much suckier than before, I guess. Anyhow,” she said with a little shrug, “I wanted to tell you to stock up on crosses, Anya. I suggested them in my first self-defense class.”

“Ooh, how did it go?” Willow asked.

“Good. And I got to wear my new Lulu Lemon top, the periwinkle one?”

“As fascinating as this conversation is, I can’t help but redirect our energies towards the threat at hand.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Xander called out as he came in through the back door. “Couldn’t find a parking space. This new health club is turning Main Street into a bustling little place of commerce.”

“As I was saying …” They turned their attention to Giles. “I believe we have some new information on our threat.”

The group took their seats, only to be interrupted by a group of women Buffy recognized from her class, all there to buy crosses. One woman bought extras for family and friends.

“Anya, would it be too much to ask to close up shop early?”

“Giles!”

“Fine, fine, fine. But since Buffy has done a commercial for your business-”

“Our business, Giles.”

“Rupert, I have things to attend to.”

“Lydia has some information to share.”

Lydia pursed her lips.

“Fine. It is of the utmost urgency that you terminate the vampire calling herself Britta Kessler immediately.”

Buffy blinked. “Want to fill me in on how come this vampire merits a transatlantic messenger? Too busy to call?”

“I think you already understand what a serious threat she can be.”

“There’s no evidence she’s doing any harm.”

“She’s a vampire. Oh, or are we having different rules now? Are all vampires vegetarians until proven otherwise?”

Buffy stood, but Giles stilled her. “No, Lydia. What Buffy means is that she deserves to know everything, not just the snippets of information the Council has approved for consumption.”

Lydia grimaced, but took a seat. “Very well. Are you familiar with Gertrude of Helfta?”

Willow piped up. “I came across something about her earlier. She was a German nun in the 1400s. They said she had visions.”

“She was a potential Slayer.”

Buffy looked up.

“You never wondered what happened to the girls like you, the ones who trained but weren’t called, did you, Miss Summers? No, I dare say you don’t think of others, of the legacy you uphold, very much at all.”

“Lydia …” Giles warned.

“For most of history, women couldn’t be trained as Slayers. Think of it! Young girls – 7 and 8 – being taught to fight with swords? Peasant girls in the company of older men?” She made a scoffing noise.

“Most potential slayers found refuge in abbeys. It was a better life for them, and the Council was able to train them. Hundreds of watchers took holy orders – Slayers, too.” She paused. “It was a time when duty came before the pleasures of the flesh.”

Buffy blushed, but met Lydia’s eyes. “Go on.”

“Gertrude learned to write. And even though her Watcher swears he’d never told her the story of Proserpexa, Gertrude managed to write the whole story down. It is the only account of the Slayer’s creation extant. It may be the first time it was written down.”

“So she was a seer?” Willow asked.

“It is the only possible explanation.”

“Wait,” Anya interrupted. “I remember her. She wrote books and books worth of predictions, didn’t she?”

“You remember her?” Lydia asked, looking at Anya closely.

“I mean, I remember reading about her. In a book. Um, at the shop.”

“Well, that’s possible,” Lydia agreed, satisfied with Anya’s explanation. “There have been many unauthorized copies of her prophecies.”

“Sorry, but what does all this have to do with …”

“With you? Funny you should ask.”

Giles took over. “One of the prophecies is known as the Four Square. It says that in the time of four slayers, it will be possible to raise Proserpexa, channel her powers and end the Slayer line forever.”

Buffy’s mind raced. She thought of the Faction and Jay’s comment. There’s always a prophecy, huh?

“Four?” Xander asked. “We’ve got the Buffster, and Faith … but that’s still only halfway there.”

“And Britta … if she really was a Slayer, then she’s three.” Anya added.

“Wait,” Willow said as she scanned a page of text she’d downloaded earlier. “Who’s Julia Gregory? It sounds like she’s a Slayer, but everything written about her is in the present tense.”

“Ah, yes.” Lydia said, her eyes darting around from object to object. “Julia Gregory was called … um …”

A chill ran down Buffy’s spine. “Let me guess. She was called last May. When I died. Julia Gregory is the fourth Slayer.”