"I love this couch," Hana declared with her characteristic broad grin. Dawn watched as the brunette threw herself down on it and stretched, her face turning up to the warm spring light streaming in from the window.

"Can't beat the price," the slayer added with her own grin, curling more sedately in a worn armchair. She had been in the apartment for almost seven months and still owned only six pieces of furniture, most of which she'd acquired for free.

"I still say you try to squeeze the Council for more money. Wesley's always well-dressed, you know they're good for it," Hana said.

"Or I could, I dunno, get a job," Dawn said, slipping into her watcher imitation. "I must at all times keep my true nature a secret. What better cover than flipping burgers?"

Hana snorted, chuckling softly. "I'd say worry about graduating first. Only, what, three weeks left? Come to think of it, shouldn't one of our favorite Englishmen be having a dignified snit about you not studying right about now?"

"Don't remind me," Dawn groaned. "If I can make it through these last weeks, I will be only too happy to never set foot in a school again."

"Going to have to relocate White Hats HQ, then," Hana pointed out. "Maybe Giles' living room?"

"Oh yeah," the slayer snickered. "Can you imagine? We'd have it trashed in two seconds."

"Put one thing out of place and he'll never bring anyone home," Hana groaned.

"Are you on about that again? Poor Giles. He's going to turn around one day and you'll have some mail-order bride waiting for him," Dawn teased.

"I've been working on the dating thing," the brunette admitted. "Nothing mail-order, though!"

"I'm betting on you and Jonathon tying the knot before he gets a girlfriend." At Hana's blush, Dawn's eyebrows rose. "So you've talked about it. I should've known. You two are so sweet together," she said, sighing and snuggling back in her chair. "How did you know? I mean, that you loved him and...all."

"I just...knew," Hana said, shrugging. "He's not like any other guy I've dated. It's like...the popularity doesn't matter, the attention he gets. The thousand other girls he could have... I don't worry about it because when he looks at me I just know. He really looks at me, down into me. It's not just the physical stuff, though that's great too. But it's the other connection that makes it great. He's the only one. The only person I could ever imagine loving like that, and I know he feels the same way. He knows me, everything about me, and he still loves me. It's so...freeing. And, god, shut me up any time."

"No," Dawn laughed. "No, I kinda get what you're saying."

"Oh? You and Daniel..?"

"Yes," she replied. "And no! We haven't... But..."

"You want to," Hana supplied.

"Yes. I think so. It's complicated." Dawn sighed, spreading her hands and glancing down at them.

Her friend nodded, watching her for a long moment. "You know," she said slowly, "you and Daniel, you're right together. The way he looks at you... But the physical stuff, if you're not ready, wait. 'Cause I have the feeling he'll wait for you as long as you need. You have that boy wrapped around your little finger." She grinned quickly and Dawn followed suit, nodding her agreement.

* * * * *

"At all times you must be standing absolutely still," Wesley had said, leaning forward, his eyes earnest. "A part of you, inside," he had touched his own chest, forcefully, "must be kept still and calm and ever-listening." And then he had shown her the way of it, or tried. Getting in touch with the inner slayer, Hana had called it. Giles had spoken of great power, the mind necessary to tap it, and she had known then, because of the directness of his attention, that this was important.

Dawn stood on the sidewalk thinking of all these things, and she at last closed her eyes against the black, brutal night, opening herself up to other instinct. It did not come at once, but after a few long minutes she felt the prickle of it, the tingle along her skin. Without another thought she turned on her heel and took off toward the cemetery. She might have known; they usually picked the cemetery.

When Dawn arrived, pumped from her run, her mind buzzing and her weapons at the ready, the demon already had its victim down. It was a great hulking thing she could not identify; its skin was a tough-looking greenish grey and it was clad rather poorly in rags. It had a wicked-looking axe stuck in its belt, however, and hands that looked large and strong enough to crush a grown man's throat with one casual squeeze. Even in the poor light, Dawn could see its victim was not a man but a slight woman, knocked on her back below the demon. The woman's hands were raised in a warding gesture and Dawn wasted no time in sprinting toward the scene.

Then suddenly there was a flare of green energy and the demon shot several feet into the air before landing near a tombstone, scorched and quite dead. The woman Dawn had mistaken for a helpless victim pushed herself up with a soft, disdainful snort. As she rose, Dawn gaped. Black leather fit her like a second skin, her hair fell in loose waves to her shoulders, and her eyes were the unmistakable black of someone who's just used a significant amount of dark energy.

"Olivia?" Dawn squeaked.

* * * * *

"She said she was closing a deal with a demon," Dawn explained again, slouching down in the uncomfortable chair. Wesley frowned, touching the edge of his spectacles as he glanced at the book in his lap.

"And she killed it?" he asked. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," she sighed. "And then we had a chat and I let her go. I mean...she's Olivia." The slayer shrugged, as though that would explain it all. As though they might know what Olivia meant for her.

"Human, of course," Giles supplied. "But it is important that we find this, ah, Olivia. The demon in question is doubtless the same one Daniel saw last night. They are quite rare, and it is almost certain he was here on a job. They don't care to stray far from desert regions for anything other than a terrifically large sum."

"What was he hired for, then?" Dawn asked. "And by whom?"

"Two excellent questions," Wesley said primly, folding his book shut and standing. "Find the sorceress and bring her here."

Dawn turned to stare incredulously at him. "I'm not an errand girl," she began. "If you want to interrogate her -- "

"You can forget it," a new voice cut in as the library door swung open. Olivia sauntered in, one hand propped on her sleek, leather-clad hip, her eyes fixed on the watcher. The Englishmen and the slayer all turned slowly to face her. Dawn grinned, straightening in her seat. Wesley stared, his jaw slack. Giles colored and pulled his glasses off, cleaning them with a hastily-produced handkerchief.

As Olivia approached the group, she smirked and reached one elegant finger out, pushing the watcher's chin up. "You're drooling, mate," she said, her eyes slipping over the librarian and finally settling on the slayer.

"Get those ichor stains out?" Dawn asked, nudging a chair out for the sorceress.

"Good as new," Olivia answered, sliding her palms down the front of her leather top. As she pulled herself up to sit on the table, her boots resting on the offered chair, she glanced at Giles. "Everything all right?" she asked, one eyebrow arching.

"Ah, yes," he stammered, looking up and reluctantly pushing his glasses back on.

"So what's the deal, dove?" Olivia asked, her attention returning to Wesley.

"You defeated a M'rvliiran demon, I understand," the watcher began, straightening the knot of his tie and flipping open the volume he had abandoned to the marked page. He slid the book toward her, leaning to point to the illustration. "We would like more information on why it was here."

Olivia cast a disdainful glance at the picture and reached out to flip the book shut. The watcher straightened quickly, pulling his fingers out of the way just in time. "I followed it here to close a deal," she explained. "And I did."

"You killed it, you mean," Wesley said, with a trace of irritation.

The sorceress' eyes narrowed and her mouth thinned. "Yes," she said shortly. "You wouldn't've understood its language, even if you could've held it in one place long enough to get a question out. So you needn't look as though you've wet the bed again."

"Do you have any idea why it came here?" Dawn interjected as her watcher's mouth worked silently and the impotent fury built up behind his eyes.

"Hired," Olivia replied. "By whom I don't know. It shouldn't be too difficult to find out, though, if you've a mind to." She glanced at the clock, covering a yawn. "Let me know how you do." She swung her legs down from the chair and slid to her feet, turning to head toward the door.

Wesley scowled and Giles grabbed a stack of books to be shelved. Dawn stared at the two silent men for a moment before looking after the retreating sorceress. "Where can I reach you?" she asked.

"I'll drop in some time," Olivia replied airily, pushing through the doors and sauntering out.

* * * * *

"Giles!" Dawn hissed, jogging a few steps to catch up with him and grabbing his arm. "Giles, I have news," she said quietly, aware of the other students wandering the halls, though the dull roar of background chatter masked her words. A few months ago it would have been silent, but since the White Hats had rallied against the Master things had started looking up. The slayer pulled the Englishman into the library.

"Yes, I'm coming," he said, freeing his arm and pushing his glasses up into place. "What is it?"

"I spoke to Olivia," Dawn said proudly, dropping her book bag on the counter and casting a quick glance around the library. It was, as usual, empty, and so she pulled herself up onto the center table.

"Oh?" Giles asked noncommittally.

Dawn shook her head. "I saw the way you were cleaning your glasses when she showed up," she accused, a little grin moving at the edges of her mouth. "You're married to her back home, you know." She swung her legs as she made the announcement, not bothering to hide her triumph.

"And is she an insane sorceress there too?" he asked levelly, one of his eyebrows arching.

"Well, no," she admitted. "But still. I have a point!"

"Which is?"

"That demon thing," she began, gesturing vaguely. "The Murvill -- "

"M'rvliiran," he supplied.

"Mhm. It was hired by the mayor," she said, leaning back on her open hands. She grinned at his stunned expression, though as his face grew serious so did she. He stepped forward, staring hard at her.

"The mayor?" he finally asked.

"Mayor Wilkins," she confirmed with a nod. "The demon was supposed to get something for him, but we couldn't find out what. His security is really good. I mean, obviously. Did you know people are giving him credit for all of the improvements around here?" she asked irritably.

"Yes," Giles said with a sigh, pulling his glasses off and pushing his hand back through his hair. "He's very popular. I'll see what I can find out about him."

"And I'll keep looking too," Dawn offered with a smile, though at the bell she grimaced, hopping off the table. "I have to run, but I'll be back this afternoon for more training goodness." She snagged her book bag from the front counter.

"Be extra cautious. This may be just a case of a corrupt politician, but that's pretty unlikely in Sunnydale. Take care, Buffy," he said.

Dawn blinked and nodded numbly. "Thanks," she said quietly, before pushing the doors open and hurrying down the hall.

* * * * *

Giles glanced up at the whisper of noise outside of the library doors. He reached for the cross resting on the table next to him and cleared his throat. "The library is closed," he called out.

"I'm here for Buffy," Olivia said as she stepped inside. She cast a look caught between disdain and amusement at him as he relaxed and set the cross back down.

"She's out," the librarian said, blinking at her. She was still wearing black but it was closer-fitted than before, as if it had been sewn onto her, and though he could not tell from the distance it seemed thinner than leather. He coughed and his eyes dropped as he realized he was staring.

Olivia's mouth thinned slightly and she sized him up, not bothering to hide her regard. "Well," she said after a lengthy, measuring pause. "I suppose you'll do. Let's go."

"What?" Giles asked, before he could think of something a little more dignified. "Go where?"

"We're going to find out what the mayor's up to. Black ops. I brought these for the slayer, but she's a lot smaller than you," the sorceress answered as she tossed a bundle of black cloth to him. He caught it awkwardly against his chest, blinking down at it. "Good luck," she said with a little smirk.

"I, ah, may have something suitable in the other room," he said, rising a bit unsteadily and hastening toward his office. He shut the door behind himself and drew the blinds quickly.

Olivia waited with very little patience, pacing and poking about the pile of books on the main table and fiddling with neat stacks of paper and rows of pens. When he emerged she spared him one glance and started toward the exit. It wasn't until she was facing away from him that she let the amusement show in her eyes. Though he'd found another pair of trousers, the shirt he wore was obviously the one she'd intended for the petite slayer. On him it was skin-tight.

As the uncomfortable librarian glanced up through the skylight, he spared a brief moment to be grateful that there was no moon. Then he shook his head and started after the Englishwoman.

Giles watched as Olivia slid further out on the rafter high above the factory floor, moving lithely and silently on her stomach. When she stopped and motioned him forward, he tried to follow the same way, without looking down. He couldn't remember exactly why he had let himself be conned into this, and at the moment he was heartily regretting the decision.

The sorceress pressed a finger to her lips to silence him as she slid onto a wider portion of the ceilingwork. She shifted over, making room for him, and he wriggled gratefully onto the more stable board. Sandwiched next to her with open air and a very long drop on either side of them, he finally let himself look down.

Elsewhere the factory had been humming with the noise of production. It had not seemed at all sinister then -- they were making and wrapping chocolate bars for a school fundraiser. But now they were in the quieter boxing area, and when the librarian squinted through his glasses he could not help but recognize one of the figures far below.

"I want the other half of my payment now," Ethan Rayne said as he turned toward Sunnydale's beloved Mayor Wilkins.

"Now, now, hold your horses," the mayor replied, reaching out to pat the sorcerer's shoulder. "You'll get your payment to the proverbial penny, just as soon as you finish your end of the bargain."

"It is finished," Ethan said, grabbing a bar of chocolate from the nearest box and waving it in front of the politician's face. "Trust me."

"Son, it's not a question of trust," Wilkins said with a little smile, plucking the chocolate bar from the Englishman's hand and dropping it back into the appropriate box. "I trusted my first associate, and it got itself killed. Quite a messy situation, you can imagine. I want those Books and that's what we bargained on. You wouldn't want to take your money and skip town before I have them in my hands, now would you?"

"Getting those books will be like taking candy from babies," Ethan said with a smirk. "Actually, it will be much easier than that."

"Then there won't be a problem, and this time tomorrow you'll get your money," the mayor said. "I'm a man of my word."

"And you call yourself a politician," the sorcerer grinned. "I'll bring your Books of Ascension tomorrow, then. Why are you so interested in them anyway?"

"Ah-ah! Let me worry about that. You just get them to me tomorrow," Wilkins instructed. He shifted to leave but was stopped when one of his aides scuttled up and whispered in his ear. A thin little smile moved over his mouth, and he looked to Ethan again. "And take care of the two little spies in the rafters."

"Shit," Olivia hissed, tensing next to the librarian. He looked helplessly between her and the scene below, where the mayor was moving off and Ethan and a few of the mayor's henchmen were staring straight up at them. "Shit shit shit," the sorceress continued to curse, her eyes darkening but nothing else happening.

"Bastard priest of chaos," she hissed, just before she rolled off the edge of the rafter, plummeting through the air. She landed in a crouch that should have shattered her bones but somehow didn't; she seemed no worse for the wear as she straightened smoothly, coming face to face with the priest in question.

"Didn't count on the wards, hm?" Ethan asked, brushing his hands down over his silky shirt front and sizing the sorceress up. "Pretty little witch, aren't you? And who's your friend?" He glanced up to the rafters again, where a little cluster of vampires was wrestling the recalcitrant librarian back toward the ladder down. He did a double-take, his eyes narrowing as the group got closer.

"Fate is as unpredictable as always," he said with a smirk. "I do believe that's Ripper. Ripper, hello!" he called more loudly as the man was lead to him. One of his eyebrows lifted slowly as he glanced over the librarian's attire. "Nice shirt."

"Rack off," Giles growled.

"No need to get testy, Rip," Ethan said, lifting his hands in surrender. "I'm not even going to kill you, after all." His eyes glinted with humor as he paced around them, drawing their suspense out, though his expression fell a little when neither of them would ask what he had planned.

"I'm going to give you some chocolate," he announced with a little snicker. He grabbed two bars from the box, handing one to each of them. "Eat up."

"What, they're poisoned?" Giles said, glancing down at the chocolate as though it might leap from its packaging to throttle him.

Ethan scoffed. "No, nothing nearly so vulgar," he said. "Just a little spell. By tomorrow night all of the adults in Sunnydale will have eaten some. They're just delicious. Once you've had a taste you'll be a changed man. Trust me."

"Forget it," the librarian snarled, though as he moved to toss the candy away, Ethan caught his wrist tightly. The sorcerer snatched the bar from him, tearing the wrapping away and shoving the chocolate towards his mouth.

"Oh, c'mon," Ethan coaxed as two of the mayor's henchmen worked on holding the man back and prying his mouth open. The others were giving the sorceress similar treatment, ignoring her muttered, violent curses and rather skilled attempts to escape them.

"I know you like it rough, Rip," Ethan purred, shifting a little closer to his ex-boyfriend.

"Piss off!" Giles shouted once he'd broken free, though he'd already tasted the chocolate. He stumbled a few steps back and stopped, suddenly unable to remember why he'd been so adamant about not eating it. Now it seemed foolish; in fact, he found that it was exactly what he was craving.

Ethan smirked, watching the change come over their faces. They wouldn't remember that the candy was cursed until well after he had received the rest of his money and split town, and in the mean time he might be able to have a little fun with his old mate, and perhaps the stunning sorceress as well. It would be a few hours before the spell truly set in, but once it had the librarian would be an amoral version of his teenage self. Not that Ripper had been terribly moral to begin with, Ethan reflected.

"Go home. I'll check in on you this afternoon," Ethan said, handing each of them a few more chocolate bars. They accepted the candy, then turned and wandered toward the exit.

The pair had walked in silence for a few minutes before the panic began to shake Olivia out of her compliant haze. She was losing things, important things -- certain memories and the strong knot of conviction and hate she nursed carefully at the center of herself. She calmed herself by opening the last bar of chocolate and starting in on it. The librarian, who had been walking numbly next to her, finished the last of his candy and glanced at her.

"You all right, luv?" he asked, a concerned frown creasing his forehead. She nodded, though it and her lack of verbal response was unconvincing. He caught her elbow and guided her to a bus stop bench, pushing her gently into a seat. "What is it?" he prompted.

Olivia sat gratefully, bending forward and pressing her face hard into her palms, trying to get a hold of herself. It was slipping away, her knowledge of herself. The one face that had driven her since she was young was hazy now. She couldn't remember his hot breath or his hands pinning her down, the shock of his fists or, afterwards, the shame that had gnawed her heart out. In an instant this first violent time was gone, and when her head lifted from her hands she had no memory of having been hurt that way.

Ripper watched her dark eyes clear and grinned, leaning toward her. She blinked several times, her eyes dropping to his shirt and then her own clothing, alarm passing over her face.

"What am I wearing?" she asked, incredulous. The Englishman sat back, blinking and glancing down at his own clothing.

"Bloody hell, what am *I* wearing?" he asked, plucking disdainfully at his pressed black trousers. He shook his head, standing and offering a hand to pull her to her feet. "Let's go find something more suitable," he suggested as she stood and freed her hand from his. He ignored the subtle evasion, glancing up at the lightening sky.

"Maybe get some breakfast too?" Olivia voiced his thoughts.

"Exactly," he answered with a grin. "Gotta stay awake for work tomorrow." He paused for a moment, wondering at that; he didn't seem the type to have a job, but it seemed important for him to go to it, and as his pretty companion continued down the sidewalk he pushed the moment of hesitation away and fell in beside her.

* * * * *

Dawn and Larry dropped their book bags on the table and glanced toward the office. When Giles stepped out of it, Larry sat suddenly, blinking. Dawn, less flappable, regarded the librarian with an arched brow. His only concession to his old tweedy self was a suit jacket slumped over the front counter. Though he wore a dress shirt, the top buttons were undone and his tie was crumpled with the jacket. Beneath his tousled hair his eyes sparkled, curiously bright without the usual encumbrance of his glasses. He smirked, leaning against the doorframe and dropping one hand in his pocket.

"Very...GQ," Dawn said sarcastically.

"Giles," Larry stammered.

"Don't you have class or some such?" the librarian asked, glancing over the students, his voice rich with humor.

"Free period," the dark-haired slayer said, finally flopping down in a chair. "In other words, research time. Have you heard from Liv in the past few days? She was going to try to get more information on the Murv-thing demon's assignment, underworld contacts and stuff."

"Yeah, I saw her," Giles said. "Last night. We didn't find anything."

"Oh?" Dawn asked, her eyebrow arching, though she lost her amused little smirk when the librarian snorted disdainfully.

"Have you told your watcher you won't be about after school, then?" he asked, ignoring the question implied in the slayer's expression.

"Uh, no, because I will be," Dawn said slowly, glancing at Larry, who shrugged. "We're training. You remember training? The thing that we do every day after school?"

"Yeah, but you've your fundraiser. The chocolate bars. Have you picked them up yet?" the librarian asked, straightening and approaching the table.

Larry cleared his throat as the librarian leaned against the edge of the table. "I don't think Buffy really needs to skip training for a school fundraiser," he ventured.

"It's important to support the band," Giles said, glancing down at the student. "I'll buy a box off you, get you started."

Larry grinned crookedly. "Sure," he said.

Dawn stared at the two of them, then shook her head. "Research," she reminded them, pulling a few books out of her bag and dropping them between Giles and Larry.

* * * * *

"Hello beautiful," Daniel said, his face brightening as he looked up from his guitar.

Dawn scrunched her nose, dropping her bag and crossing the room toward him. He set his guitar aside and drew her down into his lap, where she curled comfortably, one arm wrapping around his shoulders. He nuzzled into her neck, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, a little questioning noise at the back of his throat.

"Giles was so strange today. Did you see him?" she asked, her fingers drifting through his dark hair. She let out a little sigh, letting his presence calm her.

"Yeah. The clothes were a little wiggy, I'll admit," he answered, humor lurking behind his voice and unchanged expression.

"Well, he and Wesley both basically told me to deal with the mayor myself. Maybe they have some stuffy British guy convention that they don't want anyone to know about or something," she said irritably. Daniel shushed her softly, his hand stroking down her arm and his eyes meeting hers.

"Dawn," he said quietly.

She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against his and touching his cheek. "You want to come with me tonight?" she asked. "I'm so close."

"Of course," Daniel said with a little smile, his arm tightening around her. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Hmm, two minutes?" she suggested, grinning slowly as her mouth dipped toward his.

* * * * *

"There is something severely strange going on," Dawn observed. She and Daniel had stopped on the streetcorner and turned to watch as a middle-aged businessman smashed in a store window. The uniformed officer on the next block glanced up at the sound of shattering glass and the wail of the alarm, but after a little shrug turned back to the forty-something soccer mom he was, by all appearances, attempting to woo.

"They're all acting like, like..." she faltered, casting her boyfriend a helpless look.

"Us?" he supplied. "Only worse. If that's possible."

Dawn nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly," she confirmed. "It's like they don't care about anything except...ew. Totally amoral." She scrunched her nose, sparing one more glance at the police officer before taking Daniel's hand and starting down the street again.

"I guess we add it to the list of strange things that have happened in Sunnydale today," Daniel said with a faint smirk.

"Watcher weirdness, Principal Flutie weirdness -- okay, I guess we can call all that 'adult weirdness'," Dawn said, finishing her list before she had begun. "The only other strange thing is how easy it was to sell those chocolate bars."

"Flew right out of the box," Daniel agreed. "I think I'm more scared of mothers looking for a chocolate fix than I am of vampires."

"It's almost like it's -- oh god. I'm the stupidest person ever. Ever," Dawn reiterated. "Cursed candy. It's happened in our Sunnydale, Buffy told me all about it!"

"Uh, honey, you might wanna," Daniel suggested, pressing a finger to her lips. "Getting the excited voice."

"Sorry," she murmured, properly chagrinned. "Okay, so all the adults are totally useless," she continued more softly, keeping her amusement out of her voice. "But why? Who's doing it, and what do they want?"

"Everyone off their guard," Daniel stated the obvious with a little shrug. "Assemble the gang, start at the source?"

"Candy factory," Dawn said, with a firm nod. "No time to find everyone, though. Let's go."

"Okay, Wes hasn't taught me subtlety yet," Dawn admitted in response to her boyfriend's ever-lifting eyebrow. She looked through the haze of dust that was settling out of the air; she had kicked down the locked front door to the factory, creating a terrific amount of noise that echoed through an entirely empty room.

"I see this," Daniel said evenly, stepping gingerly around the fallen door. He glanced up at the sound of another slamming door, this one distinctly separate from the racket they'd just made.

"Apparently whoever that is hasn't learned that lesson either," Dawn said with a grin, just before taking off toward the sound. There was only one door off the front room, so it was a matter of moments before the slayer was through it, darting among ceiling-high stacks of anonymous brown boxes after her unseen prey. She could hear him, though -- she knew it was a him by the abbreviated curse that had followed a falter in his rapid footfalls.

She caught up with him just as the maze of boxes was beginning to severely annoy her. Grabbing the back of his shirt, she whirled him around and threw him up against a wall of the boxes. He lifted his hands in surrender and she released him, stumbling back a step and gaping.

"Ethan?" she breathed, her stomach wrenching.

The man grinned widely, his upraised hands drifting down, straightening his shirt. "My reputation precedes me, then?" he preened, his dark eyes sparkling. He lost some of his easy confidence as he noted the slayer's narrowing blue eyes, the cold anger settling over her face. She was small, but he was assured of her strength when she moved forward again, slamming him against the solid wall of boxes a second time.

"I know what you did to the candy," she growled.

"Candy?" he asked innocently. "What candy?" As she drew her fist back, his hands lifted again in surrender. "Oh, that candy! Right! Don't worry, pet, everyone will be right as rain in the morning."

"Who are you working for?" Dawn asked. "I won't ask you twice, and I will break you before I kill you." She heard Daniel's approach, much more controlled than her own. She also heard his footfalls slow and then stop as he reached earshot and stayed sensibly out of sight.

"Excitable girl, aren't you?" Ethan asked, wincing as she threatened a punch again. "Right, my employer." He stalled for only a moment longer, weighing his contract against the deadly slayer in front of him. The whole thing was a wash now that she was involved anyway; he could kiss the second half of his payment goodbye, no matter what happened now. And besides, as a priest of chaos he loved nothing better than causing it. There was no reason not to give the girl a tidbit, liven the game up a bit.

"I was hired by your mayor," he announced. After a moment he frowned, his forehead creasing at her lack of surprise. "You already knew about him, then?" the Englishman asked.

"What does he want?" Dawn asked, ignoring his question.

"The Books of Ascension," Ethan answered promptly, though he was met with suspicion. "I swear it. He needs to call up some demon in the middle of the bank, there are all sorts of protections on it. He needed time, sacrifices, you know. He's not what he seems."

"So he's going to the bank?" Dawn asked, pressing her arm across his throat.

"Yes. Actually," Ethan coughed, wincing and screwing his face up in pain until she eased off a bit. "Actually," he continued, "his people have been there for an hour or two already. Probably almost done by now."

"Let's go," the slayer said, grabbing the sorcerer's wrist and beginning to drag him back the way they'd come.

"Wait, wait, what do you mean?" Ethan protested, setting his heels in. "I told you what I know."

"Yeah, and you're going to stick around until I find out whether or not you were lying," Dawn said, giving a nod to Daniel as they approached him. Ethan took one look at their determined faces and relented, following them meekly and watching for an opportunity to flee.

The room between the main counter and the drive-up service area had been cleared of all its furniture, save a single table. The main lights were off, but the room was well-illuminated; the tracework of sigils and binding circles drawn carefully on the bare floor gave off a bright saffron glow. A number of people had gathered for the occasion: a robed trio of grey-faced demons who chanted in unison from a shared spellbook, a pair of extremely well-muscled men, and a small clutch of vampires. The vampires stood before the remaining table, upon which lay a row of small, blanket-wrapped bundles.

The most obvious of the room's occupants, however, was the enormous demon that rose from the center of the binding circles. Its bulbous body was topped with a hideous head that hung on a surprisingly slender neck. The head was ringed with a mane of damp, stringy hair, and though it had half a dozen eyelids, they blinked over nothing. Its head swayed from side to side, as though it were listening, and its lips curled back so it could draw air in across its pointed teeth.

Luckily this room was visible from the drive-up window, though the glass was thick, designed to protect the money inside from casual criminals. Dawn leaned back from it with a little growl of frustration, but she turned as Daniel touched her arm and offered her a grin.

"I've got it covered," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. Dawn pushed Ethan back a few steps, out of range of the expected spray of glass, as Daniel produced a -- "Ratcheting lug-nut wrench," he declared proudly. He backed himself up a good distance, hefting and then hurling the long, heavy tool. It flew end-over-end toward the window. The glass shattered in a most satisfying way, and Dawn lost no time in turning custody of Ethan over to her boyfriend and leaping through the now-open window.

"Is it too late to get service at this window?" she asked, straightening from her crouch and meeting the stunned stares of the men and vampires.

The men started toward her, but the vampires curiously caught up the unidentified bundles, each holding one awkwardly. It wasn't until one let out a loud squall of protest that it finally clicked in Dawn's head.

"Babies!" she shouted back toward Daniel, who was prodding Ethan to climb through the window. "They've got babies!" That was all she managed before the men were on her. They were faster than their size would have suggested, though she was faster yet than them. She exchanged a few token blows and feints, keeping the majority of her attention fixed on the conjured creature.

It, too, was fast. Before she had made up her mind, the first vampire had lifted her small pink bundle over her head. The creature had drawn another quick puff of air through its teeth before setting on the infant with deadly accuracy, its mouth snapping shut over the offering. It was lifted precisely from the vampire's palms, which were barely grazed with the blind creature's teeth.

Dawn dodged the men who beset her, evading them easily for a moment. Rather than start for the creature, which they anticipated, she drew a dagger and sprinted toward the chanting demons. The men's surprise gave her just enough of an advantage that she was able to kill the first unprotected demon. It was disconcertingly easy, her knife moving through its thin skin, and afterwards it crumbling without a sound. Its brethren seemed somehow locked in the spell, unable to respond, and she slaughtered them as easily before the two thugs (hampered by Daniel's ratcheting lug-nut wrench) reached her again.

The low chant that had filled the room a moment ago ended as the book and the last demon fell. The cessation of the spell had an unexpected effect on the creature. Or at least the mayor's henchmen clearly hadn't been expecting it, judging by the stunned expressions on their faces just before their heads were nipped neatly and quickly off, one by one.

The four remaining infants screamed as they hit the ground, their fall cushioned only by the dust of their kidnappers. It was then that the creature seemed to hesitate, and the slayer stopped, staring up (and up and up) at it.

"The green net is corn plated," she heard it say. She blinked rapidly, so startled that it had spoken that she blurted "What?" before her mind put the words together correctly.

"The agreement is completed," it said, as clearly as before, though this time with a touch of annoyance.

"O-of course," the slayer said, after clearing her throat several times.

"You have provided the required sacrifices. I grant you the objects you desire," it continued, its head swaying close to the four squalling infants. Its black mane drifted just above their faces and they were suddenly silent. The creature exhaled, a great grey cloud drifting from its mouth and enveloping the still forms. When it had dissipated, in the place of the babies was a stack of books.

Dawn blinked, but before she could decide what to do about the new developments, the demon's neck began to shrink, its head sinking rapidly towards its now-swollen body. When the head and body contacted they folded together and the demon vanished with a little pop, leaving three headless demons, two headless men, and a pile of dust.

"Well," Daniel remarked finally. "Ethan got away."

"Slimy little bastard," Dawn muttered, shaking her head and gathering the Books of Ascension. "He's good at sneaking away."

* * * * *

"I feel very strange," Olivia whispered, clutching the phone tightly. In the scant privacy of the phone booth she turned, glancing nervously at the dark, empty street behind her.

"I know what you mean, luv," Ripper said with a little grin. "Like you're just waking up?"

"Sort of," she said, swallowing. "I'm not sure the streets are safe."

"Why don't you come over here?" he suggested, moving already to set out two wine glasses, to find suitable music, to dim the lighting. "It's not far."

"Thank you," Olivia said in her innocence, simply grateful for the company of someone she trusted, though she could not have said how she came to trust him. "I'll be there shortly."

She stares at his door, resting her hand silently against it, imagining for a moment the sanctuary beyond before she allows herself it. She cannot say why, but this moment feels important. This small space of time when she turns the handle, when she slips inside and pulls the door shut behind her. When she stands against it and slowly lifts her eyes to where he stands across the room.

When he looks at her he suddenly understands the many words for hunger. He understands the hot swathe ache can cut, the brutal fist of want, the keenness of craving. Starvation like a knifeblade. Though he has not yet set mouth to her, he can taste her. Being without her wells up within him, a sudden madness, a fever of the heart.

In that instant when their eyes lock he dreams it: he stalks through the space separating them, through suddenly heavy air. He pins her with his hips and the starkness in his eyes. His head dips slowly and his mouth skates along her collarbone, approaching the base of her throat. He must ease into it, he must be prepared for the richness he finds there. With his lips and teeth and tongue he draws it out of her, the secret sweetness of growing things, of all things hidden and dark, the dense living scent of her.

She is surprised to find herself held down by that one point of contact, by the insistence of his mouth on her throat. She had seen him contemplating it a moment before he moved, but in her innocence she had not known, she could not place the darkening of his green eyes, the need for possession creeping through his body. But it has suddenly taken hold of her as well, and she is cut out of her haze of purity. He is shaping her with his warm palms and his weight against her and the hint of a growl thrumming at the back of his throat.

And as his breath quickens hers she begins to see herself. Through his eyes she emerges -- a full mouth hiding a sharp tongue; the collarbone a dark, delicate sweep, like a bird's wing; her long smooth thighs that his hands will climb; the worship he pays to her curved hips; the elegant line of her brow going back ages, back to the time she was a queen; her dark eyes telling a story older yet, the story of an earth-goddess and the birth of the world.

But she recognizes him at last, shifting between the layers of his many guises. The tenderness of his hands while his mouth edges towards violence; his gentlemanly restraint somehow also a demand, an insistence on her pleasure. Her fingers push through the damp, tousled hair of a young, wild rock god while she catches in his eyes the glimmer of something ages older, wiser, something patient beyond his mad abandon. She sees that her lonely heart has hungered, and that he is the only answer.

* * * * *

Olivia woke in the shelter of his arm, which was wrapped securely around her shoulders. She lay half on his bare chest, her head pillowed just below his shoulder, the slow, even thud of his heart beneath her ear. She was aware first of feeling perfectly comfortable, of the safety that made her linger there, the rightness. Her eyes shifted to the window and beyond it she could see pale dawn light. They had fallen asleep only an hour or two ago, and memory of how they had passed the night brought a lazy smile to her mouth.

She stretched carefully against him, then eased slowly out of the circle of his arm. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and it all began to bleed back. Her memories of herself, awareness of who she was. She had pledged she would never again be the person she'd been last night. She would never again be the innocent. But now she had, and it twisted in her stomach, leaving her breathless.

"I've never -- " she had whispered when his hands drifted beneath her shirt. He had paused, had pulled back and fixed those piercing eyes on her, searching. And then he had smiled so gently. He had put her at ease and then he had shown her a whole world she had never dreamed existed. Though she was inexperienced, she had known. In her romantic, silly, girlish way she had known she could spend her life getting to know this man, she could spend forever discovering him.

Olivia eased the fists she had made, glancing down at the dark half moons her nails had pressed into her palms. A spell, it was a spell. She stood with a barely-suppressed growl, pulling her clothing quickly on and gathering her power about her. That at least was certain. The thrum of energy cleared her mind and by the time she descended his stairs she was feeling much more herself, centered and cold and in control. Ethan would pay for this. Ethan would pay dearly.

He should have felt her coming, he reflected. Though she had masked herself carefully, the birds in the trees had quit their singing, the cat stalking mice in the kitchen had been suddenly fey, the over-bold mice themselves had suddenly and uncharacteristically left off their pursuit of scraps.

And now Ethan Rayne, priest of chaos, clever conniving Ethan Rayne, found himself tied most unpleasantly to an old kitchen chair in the run-down house he had chosen for his temporary hiding place. It would have been a delicious situation had the sorceress stalking in front of him not looked so earnest in her wish for his destruction. Even then he might have enjoyed it, if he had been a little more convinced of her insanity and thus his chance of escape.

Olivia stopped in front of her captive, her gaze falling to him. She reached out, one hand capturing his chin and tipping his face up almost gently, her fingers caressing his jaw. Her other hand brushed the sides of his already-open shirt apart, baring his pale chest and half of one of his thin, strong shoulders.

"I'm sure we can work this out, luv," Ethan said with a smile, his eyes fixed boldly on her impassive face. "It was a harmless little spell. A bit of fun to be had by all. Tell me you didn't love revisiting your younger years without any sort of morals to hamper you. Pretty little bit like you..."

Olivia's face darkened and her hand slid around to the nape of his neck, her fingers threading up into his hair before tightening and pulling, hard, snapping his head back. "I didn't love it," she growled quietly. "You ought not mess with sorceresses you can't handle. Luv."

Ethan winced when she yanked his head back and again when he tried to nod and she tightened her hold. "Of course," he said, his voice still smooth, his face falling into those easy, uncaring lines again. "I've learned my lesson."

"I don't think you have," Olivia said quietly, a little smile stealing at last over her lips. "I don't think you have by far." Her free palm smoothed over the round of his exposed shoulder then slipped down his chest, her nails dragging lightly over his skin before her hand came to rest over his heart.

"If I truly wanted to teach you a lesson I would do it as the Greeks did," she continued. "I would tie you on a cliff above Sunnydale where crows and ravens and vultures would eat your heart out every day. And each night it would grow back, and you would live this way until time's end."

The laugh that slipped out of Ethan was nervous, a shaky little noise. "That's quite creative," he said. "Have you thought about becoming a vengeance demon? You seem to have a flair for the work."

The Englishwoman's eyes narrowed and her fingers set against his skin, then began pressing painfully inward. "You're not worth the power a spell like that takes," she said, ignoring his comment altogether. "Instead I'm going to pull your heart out myself. But don't worry, I'll keep you alive. I'll keep you alive so you can watch, so you can feel the great empty space and your body dying slowly all around it. Doesn't that sound like a bit of fun for all? Tell me you aren't loving it."

But by then Ethan Rayne, coward to the last, could do nothing but scream.