With a brown paper bag in hand, filled with nothing more dangerous than a particularly pointed carrot, a middle-aged man stepped inside a run-down building from a back alleyway before kicking the door shut with the heel of his foot. After shifting a couple of steps to his side he pulled back the worn curtains, and the light from the rising sun quickly brightened the dingy room to show off the layers of dust that hovered across every surface. He turned to head for the back room and his heart jumped a mile, a number of his groceries moving almost as far as they were ejected out from the bag.

"Hello, Ethan."

If the voice hadn't already given away the identity of Ethan's unexpected guests, the trio of matching black leather jackets might have done the trick instead. Sat around a small, round table near one side of the room were three members of the council's special operations team.

It took only a couple of seconds for him to regain his composure, though his fast beating heart still had some catching up to do. "Collins. How thoughtful of you to drop by." He nodded down at his grocery bag. "Had I have known you lot were coming I'd have gotten in some Herbal Gray."

Collins, who sat directly across from the only remaining empty chair, spoke up first. "We're not here for drinks."

"No?" Ethan moved over to a stained cupboard. He pulled down the door, placed the bag with the remaining groceries down on the ledge, and lifted out a small bottle of whiskey. "Not even a little drop?" he asked, holding the bottle by the neck as he gave it an enticing shake.

"I wouldn't say no," said Weatherby before taking a long drag on his cigarette and letting the smoke blow across the room.

"Wonderful," Ethan said enthusiastically. Reaching into the cupboard, he collected together four tumblers with his free hand. He moved over to the table around which the council's special operations team had made themselves at home, placing the four glasses down and quickly pouring a few shots worth of the alcohol into each one. After taking one glass for himself, he sat down in the free chair and allowed himself a few moments to get comfortable. "And so to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Collins spoke up first. "We're just here to make sure everything is running smoothly."

"Well isn't that sweet," Ethan drawled. "I do have a phone though. No need for the three of you to have to travel all the way out here on my account."

Collins leant in over the table, his voice quietening conspiratorially. "Truth be told, the council have some concerns with the way you're going about taking care of the Slayer."

"Do they now?" Ethan leant back, putting back the space between himself and Collins. He casually crossed one leg over his knee before taking a small sip of his drink.

"You're working with demons," Weatherby butted in, getting straight to the real point. "It's disgusting."

"I wouldn't exactly say working with," Ethan responded calmly, "but I do find that in my line of work it pays to network. There's nothing to worry about though, I assure you. Everything is under complete control."

"That's where we'll have to disagree," Collins said, his manner much more diplomatic than the other council member. "What happens if these demons take out both Slayers, hmm? By the time the next one is ready for duty there could be hell on earth."

"Very dramatic," Ethan said before pausing. "And perhaps not all that far from the truth if these demons have their way. I'll let you in on a little secret though." He slowly tilted his glass, letting the dark liquid run around the edge. "It would seem the council aren't the only ones with an interest in demonic activity these days. The government are down here running some little Sunnydale clean-up operation. Once the Slayer – or indeed Slayers – are gone, I'll make sure they get to know about our little green skinned visitors, and then they can take care of the rest."

"You want to let someone else do your work for you? Again?" Weatherby didn't look at all convinced, his face scrunched up into a sneer. "The council should've never hired you in the first place."

"And with you three clowns on the payroll I can't even begin to imagine why they'd ever need to."

"Clowns?" Weatherby pulled back his coat to reveal a discrete handgun poking out from an inside pocket. "Maybe we should show you just what it is they pay us for."

A sly grin crossed Ethan's face. "I'd think twice before reaching for that. Those glasses you're all drinking from are hexed. A few choice words and you'll be finishing out your days pestering me for catnip. And I've never been all that fond of cats." He frowned to himself, his eyes rolling up. "Not really sure why that is," he finished thoughtfully.

Smith, who had yet to say a word, stared at the small glass tucked between his fingers, looking very much like the contents of his stomach were about to be forcefully evicted from the premises. Weatherby's glass dropped from his hand, the liquid spilling out as the glass hit the table, and it continued onward, rolling off the edge to the floor.

"Now there's no need for that," Collins said, sounding unperturbed. His face stayed even, his features giving nothing away, but even he was quick to place his unfinished drink down on the table. "We're all friends here."

"Quite," said Ethan. He downed the remainder of his drink in one long gulp before placing the empty glass back on the table. "Well gentleman, it's been absolutely wonderful catching up." He got to his feet and started walking toward the back room. "Feel free to let yourselves out. And chaps?" He looked back over his shoulder and smirked at a furious-looking Weatherby. "Make sure Quentin has my rather large payment ready."

----------

"Really?" Buffy asked, unsure if she had misunderstood or if Giles had finally lost his mind completely. After all, she figured one too many knocks on the head had to have some kind of a long term effect on a person's mental health.

"Really," Giles confirmed.

"Really really?" Buffy turned to Faith for back up, but the girl gave a casual shrug, clearly not sharing her own sense of dread.

"It's only a shop," Giles defended.

"You remember when I snuck off to a frat party and almost ended up as snake food? This is a worse idea."

"Th-There's space to store my books, there's room to train you and Faith in the back, and despite what you may think, I don't have an endless supply of money growing in my bank account."

"But you can afford this place?" Buffy challenged, ignoring the pointed and rising tone from an increasingly irate Giles.

"It's – it's an investment."

"I think it's cool," Willow interrupted before Buffy could speak up again. She seemed much more optimistic, the fact made clear by the large grin on her face. "It'll be like our own bat cave, only, you know, above ground... and not particularly secret... and hopefully without any bats."

"At least until one of us gets turned into one," Buffy wisecracked.

Giles sighed loudly before stepping in through the front door.

"OK, OK, I'm sorry," Buffy said, quickly following him inside. "I just wanted to reserve the right to say I told you so later, but now I'm completely supporto-girl. I think it's great that you're getting out of the house."

"I'm touched," Giles grumbled dryly as his eyes scanned over the room.

Buffy followed suit, looking around the interior of the building. It seemed darker and mustier than when she'd last come by; she knew Giles would feel right at home. He hadn't exaggerated about the space either. In case the shop floor and an adjoining back room weren't already enough, an upper floor balcony contained rows of bookshelves that stood just waiting to be stacked to the brim.

Willow had wasted little time getting to know the place, already rooting through what Buffy assumed must have been leftover stock from the previous owner. "This is so cool," she said, repeating her earlier sentiment. "How amazing will it be to have all these books and ingredients at our fingertips?" She stopped pawing through a row of books on the shop floor and glanced up at Giles from down on her knees. There is a friends and family discount, right?" She smiled hopefully and eagerly nodded her head in encouragement.

"Of course, Willow. Just so long as you're being careful."

"Absolutely."

As Willow returned to her eager browsing, Buffy turned her attention to Faith, who looked neither particularly interested nor entirely unimpressed with the event, instead seemingly content to just stand there as if waiting for something more exciting to happen. "Hey. You OK?" Buffy asked, knocking a hand against her arm to draw her attention.

"Sure," Faith offered, looking her way.

"You've been awfully quiet this morning. And while on one hand the distinct lack of sarcasm is somewhat refreshing, it's also really kind of unsettling. No offence."

"Still waking up," Faith explained. "And if I'd known what you were dragging me out of bed for, I wouldn't be having that problem for a few more hours."

"Giles said he had news," Buffy said, more than willing to pass the blame for Friday's early start. "I figured he meant about the slightly more pressing issue of the thing that tried to kill us both," she said, turning to raise her eyebrows at Giles.

"O-Of course that was the second thing I wanted to speak to you both about," he said in his defence. "All of you in fact, though apparently Xander is going to be late." He pushed back the sleeve of his shirt to take a look at his watch.

"Still a little too early for the unemployed to rise," Buffy guessed.

"Lucky them," Faith complained, and Buffy gave her an ample dose of side eye.

"And Oz is out of town on guitar duty," Willow supplied.

"Right then, well there's no harm in starting without them." Having already paced his way around the room and ended up behind the shop counter, Giles slowly ran his palms outward either side of the cash register while Buffy waited patiently for him to continue. He inhaled deeply through his nose, and his head bobbed up and down in approval. Approval of what exactly, Buffy had no idea.

"Giles?" she prompted, watching him with a mild amusement.

He cleared his throat, his hands slinking down to hide behind the counter. "I thought that perhaps we could spend the day looking through the books for the thing that tried to kill you both. The more eyes we get on this the sooner we can narrow down the suspects."

"OK," Buffy agreed, "but aren't they all still boxed up back at your apartment? The books that is, not the suspects; though that would be pretty handy."

"Aah, well that would be the third thing," he said, offering up a tentative smile that came attached with a hint of guilt.

Faith let out a loud groan of disapproval whilst Buffy merely rolled her eyes. Lifting, carrying, and unpacking – three things she did not want to spend her college-free morning doing.

----------

Faith had continued to help throughout the day, and even as the evening drew to a close she still found herself trawling through page after page of text. Every now and then she'd shoot a glance across the table at Buffy, each time remaining careful not to let her eyes linger on the other Slayer for too long. She knew she wasn't doing herself any favours by reminding herself of the other girl's presence every five minutes, but Giles' new magic shop didn't contain anything else quite so easy on the eye.

She hadn't known it at the time, but helping Giles fill his bookshelves had been the highlight of an excruciatingly dull day. As she stole one more glance, she knew she wasn't the only one who thought so either; Buffy looked just as bored as she felt. Her head laid perched on its side atop of her held up palm, and she looked much more likely to fall asleep than find anything in the book that her glossed-over eyes were loosely focused on.

The way the small, cute pout on her face seemed to admonish the book made Faith's lips curl upward, and she wondered if Buffy even knew she was forming the look. Faith made the mistake of letting her gaze dawdle a little too long as she contemplated that question, and Buffy's eyes flicked her way, briefly catching her own. Quickly Faith cast her eyes back down to the book, and she started reading with a renewed interest.

At first it seemed she'd acted fast enough to avoid being caught, but after a few seconds Buffy's questioning voice suggested otherwise. "What?"

"Huh?" Faith replied innocently, content to meet a vague question with an equally so answer, and she looked back up to find Buffy regarding her curiously. She had to work hard to keep herself from fidgeting as she continued to meet Buffy's gaze.

"How's it going?" Buffy asked after watching her for a few moments.

"Fine," Faith returned a little too immediately, and Buffy raised a questioning eyebrow. "Oh, the research?" Faith added, realisation setting in. "Sure, umm, nowhere really. Yours?"

"That would also be of the nowhere. Scoring a big fat zero here in Buffyville."

"Well the Sun's down. We could always go find something a little more action-packed to do?" Faith suggested, more than happy to go for another night of slaying alongside Buffy.

"Sorry, can't. I have plans. Speaking of which, I should probably go home and change first."

"Oh. Yeah, sure, no worries." Faith thought she had managed to sound indifferent enough, but she threw in a lazy shrug just in case. It wasn't that she'd forgotten that Buffy had plans for Friday night; more that she'd hoped Buffy might have.

"You could come if you want?" Buffy offered. "I'm sure there'll be room for one more."

If there was one thing Faith would rather not do than sit reading a never-ending stream of demon books, and there pretty much was only the one thing, then it would be to sit there watching Buffy making googly eyes at some guy all night. "Think I'll pass."

"OK." Buffy stood from the table, and Giles' head rose to look her way. "Gotta go," she told him simply.

"What? Now?" he asked, sounding a little put out, and Faith silently willed him to refuse the request.

"Sorry, I have a thing."

"A thing?" Giles asked.

"She means date," Faith interrupted, knowing full well that she risked sounding bitter.

"I do not mean date," Buffy stressed, and Faith found herself being shot a quick scowl before Buffy's attention returned to Giles. "It's just a... gathering."

"You mean like an orgy?" Xander asked with a scary amount of excitement.

"Xander, really?" Buffy returned, looking more than a little disgusted. "How did you even... never mind, I don't want to know what goes on in your brain," she finished, shaking her head.

"Err, yes, well, whatever it may be, can it not wait until another time?" Giles managed to get out through his embarrassment. "What happened to the more pressing issue?"

"You guys are great at this stuff. You don't need me. Besides, Faith can stay and help. She has totally got the team-Slayer research side covered."

"No way," Faith said instantly, and she noticed Buffy's hopeful smile falter. "Sorry, B, I'm with Giles. Unknown evil seems way more important than a date."

"Come on, Faith. Please?" Buffy stared imploringly at her, and the puppy dog eyes and pouted lips proved to be enough of a bargaining chip. Faith desperately wanted to stick to her guns, but she already felt a little guilty for trying to ruin Buffy's plans for her own sake, and Buffy's pleading look alone would already have been enough to tip the scales. In the end she could do nothing more than yield with a loud sigh. "Fine. I'll stay for the long haul. You go get comfortable with captain excitement."

"Thank you. And I'll totally make it up to you," Buffy promised, not taking Faith's bait.

Buffy's thanks may have been earnest, but it wasn't exactly enough to make Faith giddy with joy. "Doubt it," she muttered under her breath, but Buffy didn't appear to hear, already looking back to Giles for a final confirmation.

"Very well," he conceded, sharing Faith's own level of enthusiasm. "Go ahead."

"Thank you." She threw Faith an apologetic smile before heading for the exit.

"Oh hey, that reminds me, I have a thing too," Xander said suddenly, shooting to his feet.

"Sit down," Giles ordered firmly without even looking up, and Xander dropped straight back down with a sigh.

"That is so not fair," he grumbled.

Faith didn't disagree with the statement, albeit for a much different reason. Her head slumped down on to her folded arms the moment Buffy vanished through the door. "Idiot," she complained into the table, referring primarily to herself.

----------

Buffy sat nestled at one side of an otherwise empty couch, her legs curled up beside her, and she absently sipped through a straw at the fruity concoction balanced precariously on the arm of the chair. There weren't more than a dozen people present, but she had still shied away from the focal point of the gathering, finding that after arriving she couldn't really get herself into a more sociable spirit. Instead she wondered if she should have tried harder to get Faith to come along. The girl had seemed a little down as of late, even if she didn't seem ready to admit it, and Buffy regretted leaving her behind whilst she was out trying to enjoy herself. If Faith had come then maybe Buffy would even have managed that feat, she realized, though it was a little too late for that particular insight to be of any use.

Instead her dull day continued on into the night, and the strong alcohol she could taste in the cocktail only hastened her desire to simply curl up into a small ball and disappear down the back of the couch until she could go home. It seemed to be going straight to her head, but she continued to drink for the lack of anything better to do. With the contents of the glass nearly gone, she started trying to think up a good excuse to leave early, though even that seemed to require too much focus for her very much unfocused state of mind. Before she could come up with anything more original than having left her curling wand plugged in, Jacob sat down beside her, placing an empty pint glass down on the low table in front of them.

"You really are new to this whole partying thing, aren't you?" he said.

"Sorry." Buffy smiled apologetically. "I was just thinking. Or at least trying to." She rubbed the tips of her fingers on her forehead, trying to trigger a new lease of life in her brain.

"Not about a college paper or anything I hope. This is a Friday night after all."

"No. Just Faith," Buffy said, her words quickly leading her to wonder if she'd even mentioned Faith to him. Obviously she wouldn't have discussed certain details about her, but she figured she might have mentioned the name in passing. She couldn't really remember either way. "She's a friend," she clarified just in case.

"I know who she is. And spending your night worrying about her won't do her any good. Let's face it, she could be dead in a matter of days."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed absently. When the words finally sunk in she shot him a disapproving look. "What? If I was supposed to find that funny, you must be new to this whole humour thing," she said snarkily, angered by the unnecessary joke.

"Of course that's still a few more days than you've got," Jacob continued.

It seemed to be taking her a while to process anything, and as that thought dawned on her she knew that something was seriously wrong. She stood up, her fingers releasing their hold on her glass and letting it fall to the floor. Blood rushed straight to her head, dizzying her instantly. Her hands shot out, barely managing to keep her steady. Maybe the sudden movement had jump-started it, or maybe she simply hadn't noticed it until then, but her arms were jittering. So were her legs. In fact her whole body shook uncontrollably. "What did you do?"

"I drugged your drink," he replied casually, still leaning back against the couch. "I figured with you being a Slayer it'd need to be a pretty big dose. Hope it doesn't kill you outright though. I have this whole sacrifice bit planned for later, but if I'm honest you're not looking too swell."

"No," Buffy murmured, trying to straighten out her thoughts. She spun several times until she set her eyes on what she thought might have been the way she'd come in. She'd only managed about two steps before Jacob's hand landed on her arm, and she shrugged him off before kicking out to send him into and over the arm of the sofa. The move took her off balance, and she fell back awkwardly, twisting her knee as she went down. Even pain didn't seem to be fully registering, something for which she might have been more thankful in different circumstances, and so she hauled herself back to her feet, needing to push herself up off the table to manage the simple feat.

One of the other party guests ran straight for her, and she pulled together enough of her remaining instincts to react. Kicking low, she knocked his ankle from the floor and his arms flailed in the air as he left his feet. Her vision continued to cloud with each passing second, and she could tell she didn't have much time left. Forcing her limbs to move as quickly as she could manage, she reached the door, needing several attempts before her hand successfully found its way around the handle. Almost falling out into the hallway, she looked in both directions, desperately trying to think which way she should be going. Her mind felt so uselessly empty, each and every thought hanging frustratingly out of reach. Unable to see more than three feet in front of her, she took a wild guess, turning left and hoping for the best. She lumbered forward, her legs threatening to give way. Her hand moved to her face, wiping away the sweat forming on her brow. She was so hot. So dizzy.

Another step forward. She heard voices. Maybe from up ahead. "Help," she shouted. "Somebody help." Her words echoed throughout both the corridor and her own head, and she barely recognised her own voice. One more step, she willed herself. Just one more step.

But her shaky legs couldn't hold out any longer, and she collapsed straight down in a heap. She didn't have the wherewithal to keep the side of her head from crunching against the hard floor, and the force of the impact sucked away the last of her energy, her eyes finally surrendering to the drugs.