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Willow's House

A Few Hours Later

Buffy's POV

"I hope she buys the whole 'weekend study session' excuse," she said as she hung up on her mother.

"She should. We do have two tests coming up and you said yourself you're having trouble in those classes," Willow said, bringing in a pillow and blanket. "As long as no one convinces her of anything different, we'll be okay."

She agreed.

Much like the rest of Sunnydale, unless proof literally growled in their face, no one even thought to look beyond the excuses provided by others. She had been the Slayer for more than two years and, even with the damage demon slaying had done to her clothes, her mother had never clued into the truth. The one time she'd tried to convince her parents of the truth they'd had her institutionalized until she faked a recovery, claiming that she'd only been acting out because her parents were having marital issues. It'd worked, even if she suspected now that the Watchers Council might've greased the wheels somehow to get her discharged. Since then she'd done what she could to encourage her mother's world view that she was just an ordinary teenage girl and, until she'd met Giles, she'd even tried to be just that.

Now she kept up the act just to keep from dealing with the added drama it'd wind up causing.

If her mother even suspected that she was continuing being a 'vampire slayer', she would have her committed again, or at least set up regular sessions with a shrink to 'cure her of her delusions'. While the drugs might've blurred the images of when she'd been institutionalized, she remembered enough to know that she didn't like it. She had no desire to be sent back and having some man or woman attack her truth with their version of the truth would only piss her off. She knew what the world was really like, that the things everyone else said was nonsense actually existed, and to be subjected to the ignorance of someone who thought that they knew better would be infuriating. Even if she tried to just play along, she didn't think she was good enough an actor to fool people who specialized in scrutinizing behavior and identifying various physical tells.

All in all it made more sense to keep the truth from her mother rather than come clean.

It'd be easier.

"So what was Xander like after the ritual?" she asked, deciding to move things along to another topic. "I got back kind of late."

"It was amazing!" Willow replied, her eyes lighting up with awe and interest. "He made fire explode out of nowhere just by snapping his fingers and set up some kind of magic circle that burned the stone demon to a crisp! He totally kicked ass!"

She had to grin a bit at how her friend was gushing over her crush but that grin didn't last long once she began to perceive how this would change things for Xander. Honestly she hadn't expected such dramatic results from the ritual and she now wished that it had failed. Initially she thought that it would only give him access to the fake memories of his Halloween costume and maybe give him a basic way to defend himself. That would've been perfectly okay since it'd make for an interesting story and make her worry less about him when he tried to help her keep Sunnydale safe.

Instead, if Willow was to be believed, Xander had gained both power as well as knowledge and it was enough to easily dispatch one of the Teriyaki assassins when Giles and Miss Calendar couldn't.

A normal human couldn't do that.

That meant he'd become a freak like her, forever denied a peaceful human life since, even without a Calling like she had, he'd still make waves with what he could now do. She'd been listening to Giles and Xander talk on the way to the hospital but the two of them had deliberately kept both the questions as well as the answers vague. The reason for that became evident once you took into account Kendra's presence, since she understood the desire to keep the toddler Slayer out of the loop. The Scoobies were tightly knit group that trusted each other and could count on each other. The moment Xander's new set of circumstances presented themselves, she'd known that, just like her, the others would never tell anyone that might cause the changed teenager harm about his new abilities.

Kendra was too new and, based on what she'd seen, completely subservient to the Council.

Don't get her wrong, the girl had potential, but it was clear that her Watcher had been training her since the girl had been old enough to do it and hadn't given much in the way of free time. Even with that little free time, it looked like she hadn't been allowed to make friends or go see a movie. Everything had been about her Calling, her first thoughts were of the wishes of the Council, and that made her a threat to Xander and every Scooby knew it. If she found out what Xander could do and how much info was inside his head, she'd definitely report it to her Watcher who would then report it to the Council.

If that happened, they'd probably want to know all Xander knew, too, AND find a way to put a collar on him so that they could have another weapon at their disposal.

For all Giles claimed that the Council fought on the side of good and were there to support the Slayer, she believed differently. If they were so keen on helping the Slayer, then they could be doing a whole lot more. They could have more than Giles to back her up. They could have bodyguards around her mother to keep her safe. They could be doing all they could to make sure the Slayer lived a long life and actually saw peaceful retirement. Instead they just sent one Watcher with an armload of books and occasionally provided long distance research support when asked, though it was like pulling teeth sometimes.

She did not like and could not trust those people.

At the same time… she knew she could not escape them.

If they had indeed facilitated her release from the Asylum and if as she suspected they'd arranged for she and her mother to come to the Hellmouth, then that meant they had connections. If she left by herself she might be able to disappear if she left everything behind and kept to places with very little bookkeeping but that was a price she wasn't willing to pay. She loved her mother, her friends and the life she'd managed to create for herself in Sunnydale. A life on the run would be hell and, since the Council would never stop looking for her, she'd likely never be able to stay in one place for very long.

So, reluctantly, she would be their Slayer but she would also keep as much of a normal teenage girl's life as she could.

However she would not allow Xander to be sucked into a similar role. Not any more than he already was that is.

As far as she knew, the Council viewed her friends as unnecessary tag alongs and that was assuming that Giles thought to include them specifically in his reports. Such people would be beneath the notice of the big shots on the Council, since the old men and women probably thought that such people would die soon enough. However, if they found out what Xander could do now and suspected what information her friend had inside his head, that would change how they saw him. He would become a resource to be tapped and they would do all they could to tap it.

That was a very good reason in her mind why they shouldn't have done the ritual.

As an amateur with his Alchemy and all of the other dangerous knowledge buried too deep for it to be accessed, her friend could be overlooked. However, as someone with full access to the knowledge and proven to be capable of wielding his Alchemy in combat, Xander became something that couldn't be ignored. She'd tried to hammer home these facts but the idiot had just ignored them in his quest to be and do more where fighting demons was concerned.

He didn't realize that when you made waves, you got the attention of people on BOTH sides of the fight. Members of both sides would either want to kill him or find some way that they could use him to their advantage.

She could only frown in frustration at Xander's stupidity along with her own worry about what'd happen next.

"I just hope he's as good as you say he is," she said, breaking away from her thoughts. "'Cause this thing with the assassins isn't over yet."

"Don't worry. Those guys won't know what hit'em," Willow said, having complete confidence in her childhood friend.

That's what she was afraid of.

Six assassins disappearing or dying after being sent after a single Slayer and an 'ordinary teenage male' was definitely going to make waves.

Spike's Lair

Spike's POV

"Are you bloody insane or just incompetent!?" he asked at the top of his lungs as the sword-wielding assassin from the Order of Taraka finished making his report. "You said it yourself: you could've killed the whelp before he woke up and started flinging stuff about. WHY DIDN'T YOU!?"

"Do not take that tone with me, VAMPIRE. You may be my client but that only means that I must kill my assigned target. Our contract does not specify that I must do it as you would have it done," Harold Marshall replied with narrowed eyes. "As for why I did not kill my target, the answer is simple: it would've been too easy and thus unbefitting an assassin of my caliber."

Soddin' hell! This was why he didn't like working with upper crust types! Once they had it pounded into their heads that they were somehow better than everyone else, they never let you forget it. The man was an assassin for crying out loud! He killed people for money and didn't care whether they were good or evil, innocent or not, so long as the price was right. A person like that had no business getting all high and mighty! Still, Marshall wasn't someone he could just kill out of hand mostly because he'd probably lose an arm in the process. While he didn't know anything about most of the assassins the Order had sent, he'd known enough about Marshall to be both pleased and worried.

On the one side Marshall had an extremely good track record when it came to killing his targets and possessed such skill with his sword that there weren't many who could match him. On the bad side, though, it meant that trying to chastise or punish the man wasn't an option. Much like the man had said, so long as he made sure to kill his target in the end the Order wouldn't punish him and the contract he'd signed hadn't plainly said to follow the client's orders. All it had said was that the Slayer and the whelp had to die.

Next time I'm bloody adding some fine print! he thought angrily at his inability to control the killer in front of him.

"Fine. Just don't come cryin' to me if you wind up wishin' you'd killed him back there," he said, having reigned in his anger for the most part.

"Don't misunderstand, vampire. While it is true that I did not expect the boy to improve as much as he did after the ritual was complete, he is still not a threat to me," Marshall said coldly, eyes unflinching as he spoke. "The Bloody Golem had all the intelligence of the rocks it was made from and only its superior durability kept it from being slain long ago. Also the fact that all of my target's techniques are designed to keep opponents at a distance implies that he would not fare nearly so well within reach of my sword. As such I have already begun planning out scenarios for his defeat and death."

Well, that was somewhat more comforting.

He was no amateur in the killing business himself so he knew that people that preferred to keep their distance were pretty easy to break in half if you could get close. If Marshall was that confident about being able to kill the whelp then he'd keep the peace until he got enough proof that the snob was just blowing smoke up his ass.

"And what about you two?" he asked, turning to the other two assassins who were present for the little 'staff meeting' they were having. "Why isn't the Slayer dead yet?"

"No plan survives first contact with the enemy," the woman replied as she continued to work on her guns. "If that military rep and the other target hadn't pulled a couple of rabbits out of their hats, Summers would be dead. Still, the encounter wasn't a complete loss."

"What do you mean?" he asked, not quite seeing the upside of the woman's failure.

"For one thing I now have a better grasp of her abilities. Free range Slayers are different from Council raised ones. More unpredictable," the woman replied as she put down one gun before picking up another. "At the same time it also means there's less thought put into her moves. Free range Slayers rely on instinct and muscle memory to dictate how they fight. Because of that I just need to trick her into an instinctive sequence of moves that'll leave her wide open."

Made sense. He'd made use of the Slayer's inherited skill set before himself. Sure, it wasn't impossible that the Slayer could figure out this tactic before she got killed, but figuring it out and being able to do anything about it were two entirely different things. It'd be like telling someone to instantly stop doing a specific habit or mannerism that they'd been doing their entire life.

"Secondly, my performance at the school will give the Slayer the wrong impression of me. She'll think that my only weapons are pistols and only two or three of them at best," the woman said, looking down at the guns she was preparing. "As you can see, that's not correct at all."

Good point. Assuming anything about your enemy had gotten more than a few people killed and, looking at the hardware the woman was working with, pistols were only the most basic component of the assassin's arsenal. Some of what he was seeing looked like overkill but, as long as they didn't mess up his efforts to restore Dru, he was okay with it.

Some fireworks for her coming back party would be a nice touch.

"And you?" he asked, turning to the last of the first batch of assassins.

"The wise assassin always sends a few decoys ahead to probe for information before going for the kill," the guy who looked like a nerdy salesman replied with a creepy smile. "I've watched every encounter the Slayer has had with Bruno and Cecille and now I know everything I need to in order to kill her. I just need a little prep time first."

Again a tactic he'd used already against the Slayer for his own attempts at putting her in the ground but he'd wait to see if the prep work actually paid off.

"Me and the boys'll be going to the church tonight to conduct the ritual," he explained, figuring it'd be best to give out orders now. "Once we're inside it'll be your jobs to keep the white hats out. Killing'em's one good way to make sure that happens. Got it?"

"Sure thing," the nerd said with a nod.

"It'll give me plenty of time to find some good nests to shoot from," Cecille said, nodding in agreement with the general plan.

"I shall position myself inside the church for when these two fail," Marshall said, not sounding like he'd settle for anything else. "Nothing too close quarters, of course. Just closed in enough to make it easier to corner and skewer."

"Whatever. Just don't screw up!" he warned as he moved to make sure that Dru didn't accidentally dust Angelus. "If I don't see two dead bodies or if they ruin the ritual, then I'm gonna demand a refund."

With that he left the open area of his warehouse lair for Dru's room and, judging by the screams of pain he was hearing, his girl was showing a bit more restraint than usual.

If she'd forgotten about restraint the pitch of the screaming would've been two or three octaves higher.

Sunnydale High School Library

The Next Day, Lunch Hour

Xander's POV

"With Willow's assistance we have managed to determine the specifics of the ritual from Du Lac's book that Spike likely desires to implement," Giles said, sounding grave and grim. "The, uh, the ritual requires that, the presence of her sire, and it must take place in a church on the night of the new moon."

"The new moon is tonight," Kendra said, sounding all business. "Do we know who Drusilla's sire was?"

"Do you mean the vamp that turned her?" Buffy asked, commanding her Watcher's attention.

"Yes," Giles replied, confirming that piece of information.

For a moment it looked as though Buffy wasn't going to say anything but then, with the utmost reluctance, she reached a decision.

"Angel. He's Drusilla's sire," Buffy revealed, causing half the room to gasp in shock. "Will this ritual kill him?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it will," Giles replied with mild regret.

Likely more because of how the leech's dusting would hurt Buffy rather than any real concern over Deadboy. For a moment he considered making plans for how he could make it so that they arrived just in time to keep Drusilla from doing anything with her renewed strength but too late to save Angel. Honestly it was the best outcome possible in his opinion, since it'd be removing two more bloodsuckers from the world and free Buffy to start looking for something with a pulse in terms of dating material. He wouldn't care if a week later she came home with some overweight Goth with too many piercings so long as he had a pulse, had no medical reasons to stay out of the sun and ate normal food like the rest of the living world did.

Unfortunately Willow knew him well enough to predict where his mind had gone and levelled a glare at him that clearly said 'we are going to save Angel and that's it, mister'.

Rolling his eyes, he just slumped and looked defeated.

Secretly, though, he was going to wait until he no longer in Willow's line of sight before resuming his planning efforts to terminate Angel while making it look like an accident.

It was one of the new ways of thinking he'd gained since the ritual.

He couldn't say that he remembered Edward Mustang's life like it was his own or that his costume's personality had merged with his own, but rather that he'd been introduced to a new point of view. Life in the Fullmetal Alchemist world was very different and, not just in terms of tech but also the various cultures that could be experienced. While Eddie's early life up to the teens had been mostly in Central City with his parents, that'd changed when he'd joined the military to follow in the footsteps of his parents. Not only did the guy meet students from various regions of Amestris but he also got to know about the cultures those regions had. It'd been one of the things that Eddie's mother had encouraged her son to learn about so that he could make informed choices rather than ones based on representations shown in the newspaper or on the radio. Eventually the classes at the Academy required field trips to various places so that they could be seen firsthand rather than merely as pictures in a book.

He barely controlled a shiver that went through his body when memories of Fort Briggs popped up in his mind.

The place had been a snow covered piece of hell filled with the toughest bunch of ground pounders he'd likely ever encounter in person or vicariously through Eddie's memories. More than that, because Eddie'd been the son of Roy Mustang, the lady in charge of the Fort had taken extra care to ensure that the lessons taught to the class there were pounded in THOROUGHLY.

As scary as some of the demons on the Hellmouth were, they had NOTHING on Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong.

It made him wonder how the hell one of Eddie's classmates could in any way be related to the Armstrong family.

Then he remembered that classmate's most famous impulse.

Yeah. Definitely related to the Armstrong family.

In any case, through his reviewing of the information about Edward Mustang dredged up by the ritual, he'd come to see his life and the world around him in a different light. Before the ritual he would've gone with the will of the majority, not wanting to risk damaging the bonds he had with Buffy and Willow by doing what he thought was best. Now, though, from the standpoint of a young man in a military academy, he realized that when making decisions where lives depended on the answer, you couldn't let emotions get the better of you. You needed to impartially evaluate the situation, assess available resources, before coming up with a plan to maximize gains while minimizing costs. You had to be able to cut through interfering emotions in order to reach the best possible outcome regardless of how you wound up being perceived by others.

In this case, if ensuring that Drusilla did not regain her full strength, that all the Terakan assassins died and eliminating their employer Spike required letting Angel die, then that's what he'd do.

Regardless of how hurt Buffy and Willow would be.

If his assessment allowed enough wiggle room to implement an 'accident' rather than a direct assault, he would certainly not turn his back on it so long as it didn't reduce the odds of accomplishing the mission. However, if there was no way to cover up his intentions, he'd take the hit, metaphorically speaking, even with the likely consequences.

If they rejected him, refused to let him act alongside them, then he'd just go behind their backs and meet with Giles once a week to get an update on the craziness of the week.

After all, he didn't need their consent to help them or keep them safe; all he needed was knowledge, means and opportunity.

For a moment he realized that he'd essentially be taking on Angel's old role as the mysterious stranger who pulled vanishing acts but immediately denied that possibility.

Unlike Deadboy, he wouldn't restrict his aid to cryptic comments and tidbits of helpful information.

"Then we need to find him and protect him," Buffy said with her usual Angel-intense-resolve. "I'll check his apartment. One of you can try to get some information out of Willy. Being the middle of the day, he should be getting ready for when he opens at sundown."

"You t'ink Drusilla's sire would go to dis bar for information?" Kendra asked, sounding like she knew something. "If de vampire is dark haired and dressed in black, den our problem has solved itself."

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked ominously of her junior Slayer.

"When I arrived in Sunnydale, one of de first places I went to was a recorded source of information on the Sunnydale underworld," Kendra replied, only looking a little reserved with her words. "I found a vampire threatening de owner of the bar and so I dealt with it."

"Dealt with it HOW?" Buffy asked, stepping closer to Kendra with only minor wincing as a result of her injuries.

"Locked him in a cage across from an east facing window," Kendra replied, her muscles tensing in anticipation of possible violence. "By now dis Angel is ash in de wind."

Blink.

That's how long it took to go from a verbal showdown to Buffy and Kendra throwing down like they wanted to kill one another. More precisely Buffy had a face filled with fury and Kendra was pulling out all the stops to keep from getting pummeled by the adrenaline heightened speed and strength of her senior Slayer. Willow and Giles were trying to use words to get the two to stop but he knew that wouldn't work. Slayers were the ultimate alpha females with what he suspected was a built in superiority complex. Those type of people never listened to others very easily and pretty much ignored the outside world when riding particularly potent emotions.

In order to get them to listen to reason you needed to snap them out of their battle craze.

Fortunately he knew the perfect way.

SNAP!

FWOOSH!

"If you two want things to heat up, I'll be glad to help," he said, doing his best to imitate Major General Armstrong. "If you want to actually get something productive done then cool down, sit down and let's get talking."

Looking at the two Slayers, who'd instinctively backed up when he'd used Flame Alchemy to produce a small blast in between them, he could tell his method had succeeded in getting their attentions on him rather than each other. However to make sure his point was driven home he raised the hand that had the ignition cloth glove on it, fingers poised to be snapped again should they decide to resume their little scuffle.

Both of them got the message.

Reluctantly.

"Thank you, Xander," Giles said, only looking briefly to ensure nothing had caught fire. "Now, while I know you are upset, Buffy, there is reason to think that Angel may yet be… well, in one piece."

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, anger giving way to hope.

"If Kendra did indeed encounter and detain Angel prior to her initial encounter with you then he would've died that morning. Spike would then have little reason to retain the services of the Order of Teraka," Giles replied, sounding confident in his appraisal of the situation. "However, given that they attacked us afterwards, it would appear that he is still intent on using them to distract us. The only reason for that would be if Angel still lives."

This seemed to cause sparkles of hope to blossom in Buffy's eyes and, while this was better than having the two Slayers duke it out, he felt obligated to present another possibility.

"Unless, of course, he's so pissed that Angel's dust and his plans with it that he's kept them around just to kill us to get revenge," he said, causing both Willow and Buffy to glare at him with 'NOT helping'.

He ignored them both.

"Possible but unlikely. All records of Spike indicate that he is the sort to be more hands on when it comes to exacting his revenge upon someone," Giles stated, taking a moment to adjust how he was sitting. "If Angel had truly been killed and his plans for restoring Drusilla thwarted, he would have led an assault on us directly. Likely he would have ordered the assassins to capture us so he could… take his time with each of us and show us how he got the name Spike."

Point.

From what little he'd seen of the Billy Idol wannabe, it did seem more likely that killing from a distance wouldn't be enough to satisfy the vampire.

"However, given how long it has been since anyone has seen Angel, it is likely that he has already fallen into Spike's hands," Giles said, grimacing a bit despite the painkillers he was on. "I somehow doubt anyone with the moniker 'Willy the Snitch' would have waited too long after Kendra left before contacting Spike to tell him the good news. Therefore our priority must be to locate the site of the ritual Spike intends to use to restore Drusilla. Our opportunity to stop him will be there."

"Then I'll get started looking for the church," Willow said, opening up her laptop. "Don't worry, Buffy. We'll save Angel."

"Angel? But our priority is to stop Drusilla!" Kendra objected, making it clear how little concern she had for Deadboy.

"Look, you've got your priorities, and I've got mine. Right now they mesh," Buffy said, staring Kendra right in the eyes. "So, are you gonna help me or are you gonna get out of my way?"

He could tell with a look that Kendra was tempted for a few seconds to strike out on her own but then she came to the same conclusion he had.

"I'm with you," Kendra said, letting none of her internal reluctance show.

A solo Slayer going up against Terakan assassins and multiple vampires had no chance of victory. Being a member of a group that included a second Slayer along with a Watcher meant that victory was definitely in the cards, assuming they played each one right.

"Good. 'Cause I've had it. Spike is going down," Buffy declared with deadly determination. "You can attack me, you can send assassins after me, that's fine. But nobody messes with my boyfriend!"

He could certainly have done without that last comment thankyouveryMUCH!

A Car in the School Parking Lot

Back home this kind of car would've been impossible for anyone but the top dogs to own, he thought even as he listened to the conversation through the earpiece. Here? This is considered to be two steps from being ready for the scrap heap.

While his current boss had given him some support when it came to a place to live and spending cash, it wasn't without limit. Just like before he had to write out what the monthly expenses would be, factor in a few complications and then see what was left for him to use as he would. Given that he wouldn't be able to complete his assignment relying strictly on his own two feet and public transportation, he'd gone to a local rental business to get the cheapest thing they had that didn't look like it'd fall apart any second. It still had problems that cropped up from time to time but fortunately the same old tricks that'd worked back home worked here.

Some things were universal, he guessed.

From what he was overhearing Harris and his crew would be going on the move after school let out, so it would do to make preparations to help them out. He'd learned enough about the underside of Sunnydale that things could get unpredictable, even if you went into a situation with a plan. As far as he could tell Harris' group had three good fighters and at best two support members with unequal skills. The Watcher would've been another added to the support crew but, from what he'd found out, while the man's arms hadn't been shattered or even seriously broken, they had suffered damage. It'd be weeks before he'd regain full use of his limbs, assuming that nothing like magic was brought to bear to speed up the process.

That meant three fighters against at least four serious opponents and an unknown number of enemy cannon fodder.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that someone needed to even up the odds somehow.

That would be where he came in.

Starting the car, he frowned at how the engine struggled for a moment to turn over before settling into a reasonable rumble that he could rely upon. Leaving the parking spot and then school property itself he headed to the motel room he'd been staying at. It was there that he'd stored his gear and he'd probably need every minute between now and when school let out to get ready.

As he drove and obeyed the rules of the road, he contemplated how best to render aid to Harris.

Getting into the thick of things would just make him another target and he'd had enough of fighting things that could kick his ass long before this assignment got dropped into his lap. That meant dipping into the playbook of one of his old friends and rendering fire support from a distance. He wasn't the best with a rifle, not even close to his friend's skill level, but everyone in the military got at least some training with one whether they wound up using it or not. So long as he didn't rush the shots and used his head, he was sure that he could at least be a valid distraction for Harris' crew.

A distraction at the right moment would be all that was needed to turn a fight around.

He'd already scouted about Sunnydale during the day for spots that could be useful to him but, depending on which church Spike chose for his ritual, he might need to find one more on the fly. Not something he'd like to do with time being a factor, but a soldier could never obtain absolute control over the battlefield. Unforeseen factors always cropped up despite attempts to eliminate or at the very least minimize them.

Still, thinking on my feet is one of my strong points, he thought with a grin, remembering the past scrapes he'd gotten out of because of his mind.

Sadly that brought up memories of the one time he hadn't been quick enough, either with his body or with his mind.

The memory of the event was still fresh in his mind and, after he had 'recovered', he had been shipped off to his new assignment too quickly to find out how everything had turned out.

Had the information gotten into the right hands in time? Had his friend been able to keep more innocent people from dying?

All he'd been told by his boss was that events back home would take care of themselves and were no longer his concern.

Easy for him to say, he thought with bitterness as he came to a stoplight. I bet he hasn't been through anything like that in his entire life!

It was pointless to try to get mad at his boss, though, since words just flowed right around him like air without changing a damn thing. Instead, in remembering his past, he also remembered a precaution he'd sworn to himself that he would take soon after embarking on his new assignment.

It was common sense to learn from a serious mistake, after all, and he never wanted to make the one from his last assignment EVER again.

It'd wound up costing him far too much.

The Streets of Sunnydale

Soon After Sundown

Willow's POV

"I can't believe Buffy went off on her own!" Xander exclaimed as they rushed to follow Kendra to the church the second Slayer phoned in as the ritual site. "It's borderline brain dead!"

"She's worried about Angel!" she said, glaring at her longtime friend. "Cut her some slack!"

"My whole anti-Angel stance aside, it's still stupid for her to charge in on her own," he said, not showing any regret whatsoever. "You've got the gun lady, the swordsman, Spike and who knows how many minion vamps at this church. One Slayer versus a minimum of eight enemies and three of them have some chops to them. Any way you slice it, she should've called us first and waited."

"Angel might've been killed if she'd waited," she pointed out, trying to make her friend more sympathetic to the blonde Slayer. "If I'd been captured and you didn't know when they'd kill me, you would've done the same as Buffy."

"Maybe," he said reluctantly. "Then again, maybe not. I might've been smart enough to realize how out of my league I was even if I was worried sick about you."

That hurt.

It hurt that, even if she'd been in mortal danger as a captive of Spike's, that he wouldn't have run to her rescue as quickly as he could and damn the odds to hell. A part of her, the academic side, knew that logically waiting for backup when faced with staggering odds was the right thing to do, but the more emotional side had wanted to hear how the boy who held her heart would have ran to her rescue. It's how things went in all the romance novels she read right? The guy hears that his love is in danger of dying and runs to her side, defeating anything or anyone that gets in his way before embracing her and laying a loving kiss on her. To hear that Xander might choose to wait for backup before rescuing her, in her mind, meant that the love he felt for her wasn't strong enough to override reason.

Before now she'd been able to excuse his lack of reciprocation of her crush due to his guy obliviousness of a girl's feelings. She'd held out hope that eventually he'd clue into the truth and she'd get her romantic breaking point before they officially pursued a romantic relationship together. Now, though, she had to wonder just how long the road to her desired future really was.

They arrived at the church Kendra had told them would hold the ritual and the newbie Slayer stepped out of the shadows where, presumably, she had been waiting for them to arrive.

"I have scouted the area as best I could, sir," Kendra said to Giles like a soldier. "At least eight vampires surround the church on all sides but I have seen no signs of anyone matching the descriptions of the Terakan assassins. I can only presume they are inside along with Spike, Drusilla and Angelus."

"That's Angel to you," she pointed out, refusing to let Buffy's lover be called anything other than his rightful name.

"Time is of the essence then," Giles said after thinking on the intelligence received. "The fact that they are here and have had time to set up a defense means that the ritual is due to begin shortly. We must find a way to penetrate their defenses swiftly if we are to prevent them from succeeding."

"Need an entrance? Not a problem," Xander said with a smile on his face as he brought his hands up. "I can do that."

However, before her friend could snap his fingers or clap his hands as she'd witnessed as a precursor to some sort of amazing feat of alchemy, Giles placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"While I realize you desire to put your new skills to use, Xander, it might be best to wait until you've had more time to familiarize yourself with them," Giles said, looking directly at the teenager. "We wouldn't want any friendly fire, would we?"

For a moment both she and Xander were as one with their confusion. Xander had already proven immediately after the ritual and then again in the library that he had remarkable control over his flame alchemy and the other variations. So why was Giles telling him not to carve them a path to the church's front door? Examining the man's words with her keen intellect, she came upon the reason a few seconds later.

Kendra.

While the newbie Slayer might have witnessed Xander's little bit of fire alchemy in the library, it hadn't been anything nearly as impressive as what he'd done against the Terakan golem. Perhaps Giles was worried about what might happen if Xander showed Kendra what he could really do. It wasn't a perfect fit, since she couldn't see the problem with letting a friend learn what Xander could do, but she knew that there were things that she didn't know about. Giles had never gone into the particulars involving the Watcher's Council, whether it was their rules, the people in it or if it was made of groups who believed differently from one another.

If Giles didn't want Xander to use the full scope of his alchemy, perhaps he was afraid that Kendra, or rather her Watcher, belonged to a faction in the Council with different views than the one he belonged to. If Giles had a reason why the new Slayer's Watcher couldn't be trusted with information concerning alchemy then she would trust that in that reason.

"He's right, Xander," she said, doing her best to keep things casual yet convincing. "It'd be better to stick to what we know you can do than to try something new."

Xander looked at her with a moment of incomprehension but when that vanished she presumed that he'd come to the same realization as she had. Kendra's knowledge of his new abilities was limited to what had been done in the library and, while unusual, it was not attention grabbing. It'd probably be written off as a young man who'd stumbled into a few parlor tricks and was still a complete amateur. Such a label could be overlooked, but if her best friend went all out to show precisely what he could do, that would be impossible to ignore.

When this is over, I'm going to have to see if I can convince Giles to tell me why it's so important his bosses not know about Xander, she thought as the Watcher contemplated a new course of action.

"Willow, myself and Miss Calendar will use what resources we have to drive them away from the church's main entrance," Giles said, deciding on a plan. "When the path opens up, Kendra and Xander will charge through and get inside. Once they are in, the three of us will do what we can to distract those outside to prevent them from following our insertion team into the church. We will not fight them or try to slay them, merely provoke them to the point where rage supersedes reason so that all they will care about will be chasing us."

The grim look on Xander's face made it clear that he realized what sort of trouble he'd be leaving her and the two adults in. However she could see the fire in his eyes and knew that he'd do everything he could to finish off the foes inside the church then make his way back out to help them.

They just had to hold out until he got back.

"Willow, reach into my pocket and take out the blue and white crystals," Giles ordered, his eyes never leaving the church ahead. "When I give the word throw them just to the right and to the left of the main entrance. I'll do the rest."

"Right," she said doing as she'd been told and taking the two crystals out of the Watcher's coat pocket.

Looking over to Miss Calendar, she could see the woman only having a little difficulty carving a rune into the skin of a baseball but, once it was done, she looked ready to throw it. A look passed between the adults and then all advanced towards the church, their minds resolved to do whatever was necessary to secure victory. It was just when the vampires on guard duty noticed them that Giles gave her the signal and, with the two best throws she'd ever managed in her life, she sent the crystals where they needed to go. As they left her hands she heard Giles speak some sort of incantation and the stones responded by glowing with an inner light.

It was only when the two objects reached their destination that the point of the words was made evident.

When the light within the crystals shot up in brilliance two things happened: water from numerous sources sprung up out of the ground to follow the shattered remains of the blue crystal, and then a winter gust of wind exploded out of the other crystal. As a result on either side of the main entrance of the church there were walls of ice just a little taller than Giles, with a few of the nearby vampires having a limb frozen as well.

Jenny's contribution came a moment later when the baseball she'd carved into shot through the air until it reached a point twenty feet above the ground right in the middle of the path Giles had created. Then light bright enough that it almost blinded everyone instead of just the vamps erupted from the object, adding the inability to see to the barrier of solidified water barring the path of Spike's crew.

Without even having to be told Kendra and Xander raced for the entrance to the church, with the intent of getting inside before the vampire guards could recover.

However it was as she was about to take out another crystal from Giles' pockets to gain the attention of the vampire guards that she noticed something odd. It was hard with how fast they were moving but she could swear that she could see a mote of red light tracking its way towards Xander. At first she thought that it might be a spell of some kind but, when it fell upon her friend's skin without any ill effects, she questioned her original assumption. It was only when she let her mind wander beyond the supernatural that she remembered a popular scene used by various Hollywood action movies.

"XANDER! LOOK OUT!" she yelled in fear of what might be coming, "SNIPER!"

It all happened so fast after that.

The sound of two rifles going off and her friend's shout of shock.

Xander's POV

"KENDRA! MOVE!" he exclaimed as a patch of sidewalk shattered less than two feet from him.

Fortunately for him the Slayer reacted well to orders given in a certain way and picked up her pace even as he did what he could to keep up with her. He didn't know who had fired the second shot but he wasn't about to wait around to find out if they were friend or foe. All he could honestly say was that he was glad that one had apparently ruined the aim of the second enough for the round to miss him entirely. His inner Edward Mustang, though, was ridiculing him about not taking into account the possibility of a sniper watching the church. Thanks to the fight at the school with the fake cop and the guy with the skeleton arms, the Scoobies KNEW one of the assassins from the Order of Taraka used guns. From there it was no great leap in logic to figure out that she might have a few firearms with greater range than a pair of pistols.

He couldn't afford to slip up like that again.

Once they were both inside he slammed the door shut and began moving whatever he could heft to form an improvised barricade in front of it. By doing this he could ensure that any minion vamp that got the idea of entering the church to back Spike up would have to use one of the other entrances to get in. It'd only buy them a couple of minutes but that could be all that was required to dust Spike, Drusilla and… and… fuck it, and save Angel.

"Thank you for blocking your only other means of escape, boy," a cultured British voice said, making a feeling of dread well up in his stomach. "The girl can proceed to help the other one but you will not pass me lest it be over my cooling body."

Harold Marshall.

Crap.

He'd hoped that the swordsman would be in the larger room of the church where the ritual was likely taking place but it looked like some higher power thought that he was asking for too much. Standing in the same clothes worn during their confrontation in Buffy's house was the assassin swordsman, his weapon ready. Ever since that first confrontation he had not been looking forward to a repeat fight and, even with the new know how he'd gained from Mustang, he wasn't sure he could hold his own.

He definitely couldn't so long as Kendra was here so he knew what he had to do.

"Go ahead, Kendra," he said even as he brought his automail arm up in preparation for the first exchange. "I'll do my best to keep this guy busy for as long as I can. Back up Buffy and stop the ritual."

There was only a moment's hesitation before the Jamaican girl nodded and ran off for the main room of the Church.

Guess she's used to getting orders from guys and following them, he thought even as he watched for Marshall's first move.

He couldn't say he liked it if this turned out to be the standard for Slayers and Buffy was just the exception.

"Don't suppose I could get a handicap? To make things more interesting?" he asked, hoping that the guy might've been one of those who enjoyed a difficult fight.

"This is not a duel, Mister Harris," Marshall replied, his face hardening with killer instinct. "This is an ASSASSINATION!"

With not a drop more conversation the man went on the offensive, showing more speed than had previously been demonstrated. Had this been what Marshall had used against him back at Buffy's house, he was pretty sure he'd be dead right now and the man would be pouting at how unsatisfying the kill had turned out to be. Now that he'd gained the combat knowledge and experiences of one Edward Mustang, son of Riza and Roy Mustang, the fight was…

…more of a titanic struggle that could only have been surpassed if he'd been forced to duel Major General Armstrong of Fort Briggs. Oh, he wasn't doing badly, and every second he managed to escape getting injured was a major achievement as far as he was concerned, but he was still by no means Marshall's equal. What was even worse was that, due to the fact that he didn't know what metals made up his automail arm, he couldn't do a quick transmutation to form an armblade like Edward Elric could in the manga. Understanding the materials you would be using in your transmutation was a big part of alchemy and he had no desire to find out the hard way what it'd be like to try without sufficient understanding.

Guess I'll have to improvise! He lashed out with his automail leg to force Mashall to back off.

As soon as he had the room. he clapped his hands before pressing one to the floor but. as soon as the crackling blue energy formed a connection he drew the hand upwards.

It didn't come alone though.

Bit by bit a spear began to form out of the stone floor of the church eating away at the base material as it came into being causing a bowl shaped sinkhole to grow around it. He let it grow until it was just a little taller than he was before bringing it into the right position to match the memories of Eddie Mustang when he trained with the Elric brothers. True he was fairly sure that Marshall's sword could cut through his freshly transmuted weapon but that'd only happen if the opportunity arose.

Going on the offensive he began executing attack after attack, with only one purpose in mind: keeping his foe from being in any position to retaliate. While only amateurs needed to set themselves in the right posture and limb arrangement to execute an attack they'd been taught, professionals could improvise, adapt on the fly. By working to make sure the amount of time Marshall had both feet on the ground or was in a position to swing his sword to a minimum, he hoped to successfully neutralize the man's skill. The only problem with doing this was that it forced him to go full throttle in terms of effort and that'd burn through his energy reserves pretty quickly. Sadly, if he tried to dial it down to something more practical for a fight like this, he was sure Marshall would have no difficulty putting him into fatal checkmate in a dozen moves or less.

So it was fair to say that his goal wasn't to beat Marshall but rather to keep him busy until Kendra and Buffy thwarted the ritual before dusting Spike and Drusilla.

"Stalling? Is that the best you can do, boy?" Marshall asked, sounding surprising un-pressured at the moment. "I had hoped for more after witnessing the ritual the Watcher performed on you."

"If you were there then I'm surprised you didn't take advantage of the situation," he said, doing his best to not let chit-chat hinder his efforts. "You were hired to kill me, right? Would've been the perfect time for that, especially if you'd come from the opposite direction as the golem."

"I may be an assassin by choice but that does not mean I have no standards," Marshall said, sounding like he took genuine offense to the suggestion. "Any fool with a blade can kill a paralyzed target. I can charge what I do for my services because I never fail. Whether my prey is strong or weak, prepared or not, I never fail. To kill you while you were weakened would've implied that I possessed weakness in turn. That is unacceptable to me."

Huh. He'd seen movies with assassins who had their own code of conduct but he'd been skeptical about it actually existing in the real world. After all, they were criminals who took the lives of whoever they were paid to kill regardless of what the person had or had not done. You'd think that such a person would only care about the bottom line: getting paid.

It didn't affect his current circumstances but it was something to be remembered.

Jerking to the right as, against all odds, the man managed to retaliate, he watched as part of his spear was cut away, confirming that Marshall's weapon could cut through stone. Rather cleanly, too. Quickly twirling his spear to knock the blade to the side, he quickly brought up the hand that had the ignition cloth glove on it before snapping a quick shot off. He hadn't had enough time for anything fancy and making it too large would've damaged him as well as Marshall, but it was enough to give him some breathing room.

"Interesting magic you use, boy," Marshall said, seemingly content to prowl to the left even as he prowled to the right. "I can honestly say I've never seen the like, even in maguses I've been hired to kill."

"Well you can thank Janus for that," he said, planting a distraction in the man's mind. "Probably thinks I'll cause enough chaos for him to get a couple decent meals."

"Yes, I'd learned through the local rat how Janus paid the Hellmouth a visit," Marshall said, revealing that he'd done his homework. "A bold move considering the potential consequences."

"Yeah, the Hellmouth can certainly make things more interesting," he said, mentally trying to think of a way to keep the stalemate going a while longer.

"Ignorance is truly at home with the young," Marshall said with some disappointment. "I was not referring to the dimensional breach upon which this town was built, boy. Nevertheless, I suspect you'll learn the truth in a year or so, assuming you miraculously manage to kill me."

This caused his brain to pause for a moment since the information did not compute, but this was a poor move since in that instant his opponent lunged forward. Instinct alone caused his body to dodge to the side, even as his automail arm attempted to parry the blade off to the side.

'Attempted' being the important word in that sentence since his arm was not completely successful, as he painfully found out, the sword succeeding in drawing first blood. Quickly reorienting the position of his right hand, he grabbed ahold of the blade of the sword before pulling on it, drawing Marshall along with it. Then, with as much strength as he could muster given the pain he was in, he managed to slam a tight left fist into the Brit's jaw. This succeeded in staggering the man but not divesting the assassin of his weapon as sparks flew from it as it was extracted from his automail's grip.

"A fair blow, boy," Marshall said even though there was barely a mark on the jaw to show that it'd been struck in the first place. "Most maguses retreat like cowards when my sword tastes their flesh but you instead took advantage of the moment. That is either brave or reckless. I look forward to finding out the answer. PAINFULLY."

Why do I think that he means painfully for me and not him? he thought before the man surged forward to give his sword another 'taste'.

A few more exchanges occurred between the two of him and he was forced to come to the unshakable conclusion that he needed to change the venue of this fight. The confined area of this room gave him too little room to evade the man's weapon and, given the requirements of his own brand of alchemy, he didn't have the time to do anything significant. Marshall had probably planned it this way when he chose to wait just inside the church.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I need some air!" he declared before he threw his stone spear at the man.

As soon as the spear left his hand he immediately brought the other one forward to clap the two together and initiate the alchemic reaction. Even as he dropped to one knee he could see the man quickly approaching, no doubt in an effort to stop whatever it was he was trying to do, but it was too little, too late. Just like in the memories given to him, he used the stone beneath his feet to form a rough pillar to propel him through the air and eventually through one of the high glass windows. He'd been tempted to just transmute one of the outer walls into door or even just an archway but had crossed off that idea immediately. Such a tactic would only require Marshall to adjust his course to follow his prey out of the church and ran the risk of getting him impaled from behind. Dropping down into whatever sort of basement the church had or even into the network of tunnels Sunnydale had would be a bad move, too.

That'd left leaving in a manner Marshall wouldn't expect and thus would hesitate before moving on.

As he lowered his right arm that he'd used to protect his face from the glass he found his plan to be a complete success since he was now outside and Marshall as not.

A second later he heard the sound of wood and stone falling to the ground, causing him to turn, only to see Marshall stepping through a hole in the church that he'd obviously carved with his sword.

"Guess this is round two, eh?" he asked half rhetorically even as he got ready for their fight to resume.

"So it would seem," Marshall replied a new tone entering his voice. "You are proving to be a satisfying prey. However do not think that just because you are no longer confined to the interior of the church that the odds of your victory have improved any. Quite the contrary, actually."

It was then that something BAD happened with a capital B.

The man's formerly white sclera were turning dark red and the iris soon became a shade of purple that in no way was natural for a human to possess.

Of course the ominous black aura that was peeking out from the assassin's skin was just the cherry on top of the whole craptastic development.

Who does this guy think he is?! he thought even as he prepared himself for what promised to be hell. The main villain of an anime story arc?

The Alleyway Next to a Building With a Water Tower on it

Heh. She has an RPG-7, he thought as he ran away from his previous shooting spot as fast as he could.

His previous sniping spot that was now splashing water and charred bits down on him because of being shot by said RPG-7.

Still, the battle with one of the assassins was going better than he'd originally thought.

He'd arrived at the church only a short while before the rest of Xander's group, since he'd been smart enough to know that if you wanted to find your quarry, follow the hunting dogs. As long as he kept up with Buffy and the other girl, finding the church had been easy, but after they'd arrived he'd spent most of his time looking for a good place to shoot from. There'd been a few buildings and structures that fit the bill but his search came to a screeching halt when he almost literally stumbled into competition.

The gun freak assassin that he'd tangled with back at the high school.

It'd been a near thing but the fact that she hadn't chased him down to kill him meant in his mind that she hadn't noticed him and for that he was glad. What he had managed to spot, though, was some of the hardware she was carrying up the side of a building with what he'd been betting was a clear line of sight to the front of the church. This worried him in the sense that he'd thought that she'd just been a gunfighter with pistols and maybe a shotgun. However he'd definitely seen a rifle in the mix of bags and boxes she'd been hauling up the side of the building, so that meant sniper tactics would be brought into play. With that in mind he'd revised his original plan and began looking for a spot that'd give him the perfect position to fire on her while giving some wiggle room when it came to covering Xander and his friends. It'd been hard since no one built a town with the intent of helping out any snipers who happened to be on the job, but eventually he'd settled for the water tower.

He'd crept up there as sneakily as he could to make sure the lady didn't notice him and, once he was in place, he'd gone through all the steps he'd heard 'Elizabeth' pound into the heads of some rookies back during the war. When he'd spotted Xander and his people approaching the church, he'd immediately adjusted his aim to the assassin's nest and aimed to hit her rifle. Why the rifle and not the head? Because there was an obstruction in the way and he didn't want to risk shooting through it and missing. At least with the rifle he had a clear shot at and, if he timed it right, he could seriously hamper the bitch's ability to harm Xander's group.

It'd been nerve wracking, waiting for any sign that the gun assassin was about to take the shot, but when Xan and the new girl made a break for the church he knew it'd come. He'd peered through the scope, watched the slight movements of the assassin's weapon, and when the sign he'd been waiting for popped up he squeezed the trigger.

A good thing, too, since it threw off the shooter's initial shot, spoiling the element of surprise.

From there he'd split his attention between pinning the gun assassin down with shots and discouraging some of the vamps on the ground from getting too close to those members of Xander's group still outside the church. He might not know all of the details of the plan the kids had but he did know that part of it was keeping those undead outside the church from getting inside. Every time a blood drinker got the idea to go the side of their leader, either the redhead or the computer science teacher did some kind of magic to make it clear that they had more important things to worry about. Whenever the walking corpses got a little too close to one of Xander's friends he fired off a shot to an arm or a leg or just to the dirt in front of them to remind the mosquitoes he was there.

It wasn't easy balancing his suppression of the sniper with adding a helping hand with the support crew on the ground but he'd managed.

Managed right up until he'd seen the gun assassin stand up out from behind her cover with something he knew thanks to the briefing his new C.O. had given him.

Naturally he'd hauled ass out of the line of fire as quickly as he could.

Now what? he thought as he settled into the idea that he was safe. I had to leave the rifle up there to get clear in time. All I got left is this policeman special, some ammo to go with it and a few other pieces I thought might be useful.

He already knew.

There was one way to contribute now that would be worth a damn but a part of him was afraid to do so.

He would need to go confront the gun assassin directly.

He knew she wasn't the same as the last bitch he tangoed with, or her partner, but at the same time there was that little scrap of unknown that made the small part of him pause. These weren't normal people he was dealing with, but rather monsters that sometimes wore a human face and sometimes did not. Was shooting all the gun assassin was good at? Did she have some sort of freaksome power she hadn't shown yet? He didn't know and that was the source of his hesitation.

Shake it off, Maes! he thought before slapping himself. The kid needs ya! No way am I gonna screw things up again!

With a quick check to make sure that the gun in his hand was loaded and ready for action, he took off for the assassin's nest, fully intent on at least making tonight a REALLY bad night for her.

He wasn't careless about it, though. Any sniper worthy of the name would make sure to have a few traps set up around them, specifically to make sure no one could sneak up on them unannounced. Sure, a spotter almost always accompanied a sniper for that very reason, but assassins were almost always solo operators so he knew he wouldn't have to worry about one.

Nope, just booby traps and he definitely wasn't stupid enough to fall for one of those.

As soon as he got to within fifteen feet of the ladder that would lead him up to where the assassin was located he examined the area around it for any sign of traps. The woman was a recent arrival to the town so she wouldn't have had the time to set up something like pressure plate traps, which only left trip wires of some kind. Whether they were they barely visible kind or the red light kind he'd seen in a movie he didn't know but tripping them would be bad even if he wasn't in the danger zone. Even if he found a way to set them all off to open a path to the ladder the assassin would realize that she had trouble coming her way and soon. Depending on what other surprises she'd taken up with her him trying to climb up the ladder quickly could wind up with him eating a LOT of bullets or perhaps something even nastier.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out something that might help but then again might be thrown right back at him, depending on how quickly the assassin found it.

Did he dare risk it?

Hearing the crack of a rifle firing, he realized that he really didn't have time to debate the matter so, with a growl of irritation, he pulled the pin on the grenade before tossing it up onto the roof. He hoped that it landed someplace important, like the woman's ammo bag or even on the woman herself, because if it landed anywhere else then he'd just wasted a perfectly good grenade and he only had one more in his pocket.

His hopes were answered a few seconds later when the assassin hauled ass off the roof and down the ladder as quickly as she could with the reason being provided a short while later.

Ammo bag. Definitely, he thought as the smile as he heard one explosion quickly followed by another.

The smile didn't last, though, since seconds after the assassin touched down on the ground she turned around and locked eyes on him. Ducking behind a nearby dumpster, bullets impacted on the metal box a second later, showing how he had excellent foresight and it'd saved his life.

"You again!" the woman growled in anger, no doubt waiting for him to stick his head out. "You made a big mistake sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!"

Story of my life! he thought ruefully as he began to think of how best to handle his current predicament.

On the one side he'd successfully managed to remove one threat, albeit temporarily, from Xander's group. On the other he now had someone who was probably as proficient in firearms as a certain blonde he knew, looking to put him in the ground. Worse than that she probably had one of her guns trained on him right now, so he couldn't exactly fire back without wasting shots or getting shot himself. If he could just distract her and draw her aim away from him for a few seconds…

It was then that he remembered another of the bits and pieces he'd brought with them due to their potential usefulness. The one he had in mind was a bit iffy since, if you looked at it carefully enough, you could see through it, but if he rolled it quickly enough it just might be enough. Taking it out of his pocket, he pulled the pin out and tossed it in the direction of the assassin at a fairly quick velocity then waited a full three seconds before leaning out with his revolver being brought into position.

YES!

The old 'fake grenade' trick had worked like a charm, diverting the assassin's attention away from him and letting him get the initial shot off. Taking careful aim, or as careful as he could in the short bit of time he likely had, he waited until his confidence was its highest before pulling the trigger twice.

The first shot succeeded in landing where he wanted it to, namely what he'd judged to be the woman's dominant gun hand, but the other one barely grazed the shoulder as the assassin dove for cover. It was a bit of a surprise since he'd assumed that she was part demon or something, but then he realized that being able to match strength with Miss Summers didn't mean she could heal fast or was bulletproof. That meant that if he could do sufficient damage to the woman she'd be dead or at least motivated to retreat from the area to tend to her injuries.

The latter would likely be more feasible than the former but he'd decide based on opportunity more than probability.

"I was only hired to kill Summers, I took a shot at Harris hoping for a double payday, but you I'll do for free!" the assassin said before she peeked out from behind her cover to shoot at him.

Ducking back behind the dumpster, he felt the impact of the shots through the metal but thankfully it looked like the first grenade he'd thrown up into her nest had deprived her of anything armor piercing where ammunition was concerned. Now at least he had a chance of surviving.

"Well then, I can honestly say I've never had a cheaper date in my life," he joked as he tried to predict when the assassin would lean out from behind cover to fire at him. "Hope you'll still be a little fun at least."

It was at that point that he came upon a plan that just might work, even if it was a bit of a gamble.

Standing up, he brought his revolver to bear and fired all his remaining shots at the assassin's hiding spot before ducking back down. Shaking the spent shells out, he quickly slid fresh rounds in before snapping everything back into place. The assassin soon returned fire but, as he'd expected, she was far more economical with her shots, firing only two before stopping. He, however, popped back up as soon as he felt it safe and once more fired all six rounds at her before returning to his cover. This exchange went on until he only had enough bullets for two more reloads of his revolver and it was then that he put the second phase of his plan into motion.

"You do realize, of course, that the more time you spend shooting at me, the more likely you'll go home empty handed, right?" he asked, trying to let only a little anxiety seep into his words. "I bet Spike and that swordsman pal of yours are about to kill Summers and Harris right now. If they kill both targets, I'm betting all you'll get are crumbs just for being here, if anything at all. They'll be the ones to get the big payoff."

"So what? I should let you live and run off like some mutt chasing table scraps?" the assassin asked, sounding offended by the suggestion.

"More like a cunning thief who'll swoop down and snatch the prize right from under their noses," he replied, letting the anxiety from before spike momentarily before settling. "It humiliates them and it'll improve your reputation at the same time."

"A tempting offer, except that Marshall would never let me live after having done so to him," the assassin said, poking a large hole in his proposal. "Far better to kill you for interfering then minimize the Bug-man's screw up with Summers."

Bug-man? There were only two assassins left, right? The swordsman and the gun lady. It was three to a target, making it a maximum of six, with four having been killed already, leaving only two. It didn't make sense… unless… one of them came of their own free will while the other six were the ones officially contracted for the kills. In that case Buffy and the dark-skinned girl could very well be up to their necks in trouble, depending on the abilities of this 'Bug-man'.

Have to finish this up quickly, he thought before yelling over his cover. "T-then come on! I-I'll fill you with so much lead people'll mistake you for a statue!"

There.

The bait had been set and the clues set out.

Now all that remained was waiting to see if she reached the conclusion he wanted her to come to: that he was either out of bullets or down to his last set of six. If she did, she'd likely do something soon to make him use up the last of his rounds and then advance on his position to kill him up close so as to savor her victory. He'd play up the spineless amateur act as best he could without going overboard until the very last moment and then surprise her with a fully loaded revolver that he'd unload into her at point blank range. So long as she didn't aim for his head but instead chose to fire at his chest, he'd be in pain but he wouldn't be dead whereas she would hopefully be VERY dead.

His old friend would probably have pointed out that the head is precisely where an assassin would aim their weapon since destruction of the brain tended to bring instant death.

He tried not to think of that little detail.

"You got family, coward? Friends?" the assassin asked with malicious intent. "I'll be sure to tell them of your final moments when I see them. It's the LEAST I can do."

Meaning that's the best I can hope for. You telling them how pathetically I died and how worthless my efforts to beat you were, he thought with anger as his imagination produced images of those he cared for. No doubt the worst would be something like death by a hundred gunshots or something. Something slow, painful and amusing for anyone with a black heart like her.

Then it was a good thing that there was only one person he could honestly say he cared about within the assassin's reach and hurting Xander would be no easy task. Still, this was likely the provocative statement he'd been waiting for, so with the speed of someone overcome by emotion he popped back up over the top of the dumpster revolver at the ready…

…only to find the assassin waiting for him.

BANG!

The slug hit him in the shoulder, the one place where the vest he'd borrowed from a certain S.P.D. detective didn't protect, drawing blood as well as causing him to stumble down behind his cover rather clumsily. He'd been so sure that she'd let him squeeze off his 'last shots' before making her move but instead she'd predicted his rise from cover and capitalized on it. Testing the injured shoulder, he found that, while he had not lost the use of the arm, using the arm still caused him significant pain, to say nothing of the bleeding. Now was not the best time for applying a field dressing to the wound and the longer it bled, the weaker he'd get, making him ideal for killing.

I can work with this! he thought, trying convince himself that he hadn't screwed up again.

Preparing himself for the idea that came to mind, he dashed out from behind his cover back the way he'd come, firing in the general direction of the assassin. He made it as far as the first alleyway that connected with the one they'd been fighting in before the assassin returned fire but luckily he was able to get around that corner without getting another hole blown in him. He'd likely only have moments before she turned the corner to continue firing at him so he popped open his revolver, shaking the casings of the spent rounds to the floor before reloading the last six he had. While he did this he strained his ears to listen for the assassin's approach since his by the seat of his pants planning required he know when she was within earshot in order for it to work.

He heard the first footfall a few seconds later.

"Shit! Shit! SHIT!" he babbled as he kept his body between what was in his hands and the new arrival. "This was NOT how it was supposed to FUCKIN' GO! I'm the freakin' mysterious stranger who helps the heroes! Not a nameless extra that gets squashed like a BUG!"

Letting two of the bullets intentionally slip from his fingers to roll into view for the assassin to see, he let out a convincing curse to make her think he was helpless and desperate as he grabbed them and loaded them in. Listening to her steps, they soon came to a stop just feet away from him, with that being the closest she felt like getting to him for her big finale.

Too bad he had a finale of his own in mind.

"Take those regrets with you to the next life, BUG," the assassin said before firing her gun three times into his back.

GODS did it hurt! He could only barely feel any gratitude for the shots not being aimed at his head as he fell forward to the ground but he did since it gave him a fighting chance. Lying flat on the ground and not moving except to painfully breathe, he waited, hoping the woman would be satisfied with just that and not shoot him in the head to seal the deal. A minute ticked by and he began to worry that she might do just that but, when he began to hear the sound of retreating footfalls, he knew he had a chance.

Just a little more…a little more… He rolled onto his back, took aim with both hands on his revolver in the proper positions and opened fire.

From waist to head he fired until all six shots had left the pistol and, much to his wincing glee, the assassin dropped to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Painfully getting to his feet he dropped the revolver in his hand and instead took out one of his trusty push knives just in case the assassin was less injured than he thought. From what he could tell it looked like she was still breathing so his shots hadn't killed her instantly but the lack of retaliation also indicated that she was probably in bad shape.

Probably, unless she was pulling the same trick he had moments ago.

This put him a little more on edge.

It proved to be a good thing since two moments later the woman shifted to her side, her gun rising to aim at his torso. Due to his extra preparedness, though, and razor sharp nerves, he was able to throw his knife with great speed as well as precision to lodge it right in the barrel of the assassin's gun. Thus, when a shot was fired from it, the bullet couldn't leave the barrel but all that force had to go somewhere, causing the barrel to explode outwards, pelting the assassin with shrapnel. The woman cried out in pain at this but he didn't let himself soak it in, knowing she'd likely recover in seconds, so he threw another knife but this time at her throat. This almost didn't hit its mark due to her pain induced movements but thankfully it still managed to rupture the major artery there and, proving she didn't have some sort of enhanced healing ability, the assassin pressed her uninjured hand to it to stop the flow of blood.

Not that it'd do any good.

"Now you're probably thinking that this is the point where I walk off thinking you're done but in fact you'll survive even this and come at me when I least expect it," he said, sounding more confident and pain free than he really was. "Sorry to say you'll be disappointed."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the second of two grenades he'd acquired for this little party.

"Now I know you probably think that this is just a normal frag grenade but you'd be wrong," he said before pulling the pin out of the grenade but keeping a firm grip on the spoon. "See, I know that bits of metal flying at flesh tearing speeds might not be enough to finish you Terakan assassins off, so I did one better."

With as much speed, precision and care as he could manage he lifted up the waistband of the assassins shorts before wedging the grenade between flesh and fabric. Luckily for him there wasn't enough space between the two for the lever to go flying, so there was no danger of premature detonation. If the assassin moved in such a way so as to jostle it, though, that would be a different story altogether.

"Thermite grenade. You move the wrong way and it'll burn through you easier than it can burn through metal. Maybe even burn you in half," he said as he stepped away from the assassin. "Now you have one hand that's seriously injured thanks to the gun backfiring on it and the other's keeping pressure on that neck wound of yours. That means there's only one hand capable of safely removing the grenade from your belt and tossing it away, but if you do so you'll lose quite a bit more blood from your neck. Sure, if it was just a small cut and it hadn't hit anything vital you could probably spare a few seconds but it's not and it has."

He could see from the look in her eyes that she was debating several scenarios and had yet to conceive a good one yet.

"Even assuming you have some sort of quick way to heal, I gotta wonder if it's fast enough to keep you from bleeding out," he said, continuing his little one sided discussion. "Even if it is, I doubt you'll be in any shape to come after me or your targets. I wonder how your bosses will react to that. One of their trained killers beaten by a nobody like me with no records or reputation to justify your loss. I figure the assassin business must be pretty cutthroat, no pun intended, so unless you're one of their shining stars then your future's looking pretty grim indeed. WELL, I'll leave you to your thoughts. See ya!"

Turning around, he walked away from her and towards where he figured the fight outside the church was still going on. He kept his steps strong yet casual the entire time to give off the air of someone who knew they'd won and didn't have a care in the world now. Mentally he could practically hear his old friends berating him for doing so, yelling that this wasn't some cheap mystery novel sold at the local bookstore. In one of those it'd be perfectly natural for the hero to stalk off to leave his defeated foe to decide whether to die there on the street or spend the remainder of their short life running from their employers.

"AGH!AAGGHH!AAAGGGHHH!" came screams from behind him as well as a quite a bit of flickering light.

Guess I don't have to worry about her anymore, he thought, deducing that the assassin had moved the wrong way, allowing the safety lever to pop, thus setting off the grenade.

Anything that could melt through a car or a safe could make short work of organic tissue after all.

Would it really burn right through her in seconds? Maybe. Probably.

In any case he had to get back to the main fight and make sure none of the good guys would be fitted for coffin clothes in the next day or so.

As he finally exited the labyrinth of alleyways and exited onto the street next to the church property where the 'party' was happening, he saw one thing that had him worried and another that caused him to forget his injuries even existed.

The first was the fact that the surviving vampires that'd been a part of the exterior security force surrounding the church had finally managed to corner the two adults and one redhead member of Xander's group. All three were backed up against one of the exterior walls of the church and, from the looks of things, while they weren't completely unarmed it didn't look like they were confident of their chances for survival.

The second was that Xander looked to be barely keeping himself from getting cut into confetti by a guy with a sword giving off some kind of dark aura that was VERY creepy. From what he could see, it looked like the kid was down to one flame alchemy glove and had numerous shallow but still bleeding sword wounds crisscrossing his body. With acrobatics, martial arts and apparently VERY durable automail limbs the kid was managing to keep from losing in the blink of an eye but it wouldn't last. He had enough experience on the battlefield to know that death by a hundred cuts was a very real thing and, unless those cuts got tended to, it was inevitable that the blood loss would begin to affect performance.

The question was who he would help.

After a second glance, though, the answer became obvious.