Note: This fic is my way of saying thank you and happy birthday to my regular beta t_geyer for her unending patience, perseverance and support... but I still got her to step in once the first draft was complete to beta it for me.

Over the course of the writing process, while t_geyer was taking a well-earned rest, alwaysjbj was a ready 'ear' on Yahoo and an extra pair of eyes when it came to spotting my mistakes.

Chapter 1

Rupert Giles watched with pride from the doorway as his son, David, blew out the three candles on his birthday cake. His wife hugged the small boy by way of congratulations, and David's big sister demanded to know what he had wished for.

"Now, Emily," her mother chided gently. "You know he's not meant to say." She looked up, her eyes meeting those of her husband.

Giles hoped they'd guessed correctly with his gift. Unlike Emily, David wasn't the type to present them with an itemised list.

"What d'ya get him?" asked a honeyed drawl.

"His first bicycle," Giles whispered back to Faith as if the child might hear from all the way across the room. "He always seems so disappointed when Emily leaves him behind."

"Cool!" Faith answered. "It might have been awkward if he'd ended up with two puppies."

"What?" Giles' face took on a panicked expression. "Do you have any idea how wearing it is keeping up with those two, never mind some animal?"

"Relax, Giles," James instructed his mentor. "It's a toy, not a real one."

"Faith—" Before he could get started, Giles' admonition was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing. His eyes swept the room, taking mental note of the fact that everyone who called him regularly for social reasons was already here in the room, and while Buffy or some of the others might call from California, it was a little early in the day for them.

Faith seemed to read his agitation, and she waved him back to his previous position and made for the source of the noise.

"Lydia and I both switched off our mobiles and I told them, unless the world was literally about to end, I didn't want to know about it until Monday," Giles muttered under his breath, reaching up as if to remove glasses he no longer needed thanks to laser surgery. "Is it too much to ask to spend the day in peace with my family on my son's birthday?"

"Don't worry. Faith will make sure they get the message," James assured him, "...or not."

Faith was making her way back to the older watcher, phone in hand. "It's Project Prometheus, Giles. They think they've got something."

Giles' expression changed in an instant. "They think or they know?"

"They seem pretty sure."

Giles looked from the slayer to his family. "You two go on through to the study. Fire up the computer and get them to email everything they've got. I'll join you as soon as I let Lydia know what's going on. If we deal with this quickly, we'll be back before he starts opening presents."





"It's been years, Giles," Faith argued. "Another couple of days while we put an extraction team together, bring them up to speed on what they're dealing with, and get them out west isn't going to make a hell of a lot of difference. Go back to your family. Take a couple of days. Talk it over with your second in command."

"It's precisely because it has been years that I don't want to wait any longer, and Lydia and I have discussed this before. She understands I have to set this to rights. Spike and Buffy are only a few hours away, Buffy knows who she's looking for, and no one knows better than Spike what they're up against."

"And you don't think that that might make them a little..." Faith held up thumb and fore-finger mere millimetres apart. "Gung ho?"

"Faith has a point," James calmly acknowledged. "People could get hurt."

"Right now, what happens to the people in charge of that place is the least of my concerns," Giles ground out through clenched teeth.

Faith and James exchanged a look that said both of them were tapped out when it came to arguments.

James sighed. "At least talk to Buffy first. Give her the choice."





Spike's concentration wavered as the phone began to ring. The heavy punch bag juddered on its chains as the rhythm of his punches faltered, and he vented his frustration with a pirouetting kick that knocked the bag flying into the basement wall.

As he licked the blood from his knuckles, the answering machine kicked in, and he glared at it as if it were its fault that he had only the crude rendering of Angel's face which he had taped to the bag for company.

"You have reached the number for Giles' Personal Fitness. Unfortunately, Buffy is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone with your name and a contact number, and she will get back to you sometime after the tenth of the month."

Spike grimaced at the high-pitched beep that followed as if he found it physically painful and waited for yet another bimbo with more money than sense to say her piece.

"Ehm, Buffy? It's Giles. Are you there?"

Spike swiped the receiver from its cradle with a mixture of annoyance and gratitude at the distraction. "Did you listen to the message, Watcher? Of course she's not here."

"Oh!" Even from half a continent away Spike could hear the disappointment in Giles' voice. "Well, it was really her I hoped to speak to..."

"And I'm just the booby prize?" Spike demanded.

"No, I—I didn't mean to suggest— I did hope you would help, but I wanted to discuss it with Buffy. It's a moot point, if she's not there, in any case."

"Just spit it out, Rupert!" the vampire instructed. "Buffy trusted me to take care of anything that came up while she's off playing big sis in Miami. Why don't you do the same?"

"Buffy's in Miami?" Giles asked.

"Bit's doing Spring Break in South Beach. Brandon's stuck up north. He's got some part-time job and if he takes time off now, he won't be able to go see his mum come summer. And Buffy got it into her head that she'd get into trouble on her own..." Spike explained. "Do the math. Won't be back till after the Easter weekend. Now quit stalling and spill."

"Well, I don't really think Buffy would like the idea of you going on your own."

"Buffy's not here. An' if I think I need help, I'll get help. Just tell me what's got your knickers in a twist."

"It's not just that... Buffy's met the man we're looking for. And, well, you might be too personally involved to be objective."

"Rupert, I've been shut up alone in this house for days now. If you don't point me in the direction of something to hit, I might just jump in the car and save it all for you when I get to Cleveland."





With a smirk and a raised eyebrow, Faith took the faded photograph from Giles' hands and placed it in the scanner. Before Giles could put the battered photo album back in its place she had stolen his seat at the computer and imported the picture to a graphics program. She corrected the colour balance and compressed the file size before she saved a copy and emailed the image on to Spike along with the information the council had sent Giles earlier.

"You really should change your passwords once in a while," she teased.

"Yes, but then I'd have had to do all that," Giles pointed out.

James snorted. "And we all know how long that would have taken." He pushed himself up out of his armchair and held out an arm to Faith. "It'll take Spike hours to get there, and he'll let you know as soon as there's any news."

"And there's a little boy out there waiting for his daddy to get back so he can open his presents," Faith added as she took James' hand.





Wes barely glanced up as he heard heavy footfalls on the porch followed by a key turning in the front door lock. Spike was obviously bored again.

The vampire left the front door wide open, shedding his blanket as he made his way to Wes's desk and slapped a printout onto Wes's blotter.

Wes calmly twisted the photograph until it was the right way up and he could see it properly. For a moment he was distracted by late-teens Giles and his electric guitar. Then, he transferred his attention to the equally young man with whom he seemed to be sharing a microphone. His expression changed from puzzled to surprised to calculating. "Isn't that Ethan Rayne?"