Authors: Joanna & Christi

Title: Balance

Disclaimer: We own none of the following characters. The situation is our own, but they belong to someone that isn’t us. Just so we’re clear. So don’t sue us, for we have no money and it would do you no good.

Rating: Will vary. Will go with R for general rating.

Summary: It’s very complicated. There is a cosmic game of chess, and a battle to save the universe from itself, and our lovable characters are the main players.

Category: CROSSOVER! X-Files/La Femme Nikita/Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel/Highlander. Also action. Also MSR, BRR, CDR, and a whole bunch of others including several unconventional ships and one slash romance, as a forewarning.

Feedback: Is very much desired! [email protected] or [email protected]

Archiving: Anyone who wants it can have it. Just put our names on the top and tell us so we can go admire it.

Timeline: Buffy: Fourth Season, after Oz leaves except for Faith, who did wake up. And WILLOW IS NOT A LESBIAN! X-files: Seventh Season, after Hollywood Eighty. La Femme Nikita: Third season, after Nikita isn’t married anymore but before Birkoff knows he has a brother. (In our version, he doesn’t.) Highlander: After the finale. Angel: First season, after Doyle dies, but before Wesley comes.

Author’s Notes: This is our first fic and we are trying very hard here. It may take us awhile to get to things like romance, but that’s because we’re thinking on the epic level here. Be patient, please, and encourage us all you can. We need it desperately. We have taken several timeline liberties, so just grin and bear those. And the Russian that appears in the story is for the most part spelled phonetically, as we couldn’t find a direct translation dictionary.

Balance

Part One

In a place beyond the depths of our own human comprehension, there is an ongoing struggle. We do not see it, nor do we understand it. It is simply beyond our comprehension as mere mortals. Yet by using symbolic representation, we can use parallel events to mirror what is truly going on. Remember that all that follows is relative, and is an adaptation of the story rather than the actual story, for that cannot be told.

For lack of a better setting, imagine space. A vast realm seen as chaos, and yet, consisting of order so structured that even a stray molecule does not go unmarked. Envision a floor, with some sort of repetitious, faded tile covering it, a black and white checkered pattern that looks like it was left on the floor of a cheap fifties diner for too long. There are two red vinyl chairs with sliver posts holding the fabric together at the seams, and on these chairs sit two beings. We shall call them Good and Evil. Keep in mind that these terms do not encompass their existence. They are universal absolutes, and so no morality that we embrace applies to them. Simply because they are Good and Evil, does not mean that they are predisposed to act that particular way all the time. These are simply the ideas that they represent. In-between these two beings is a table, the kind you might find in a corner coffee shop, with a chessboard set on the top. The squares are made of polished ivory and obsidian, alternating in a perfectly fitting pattern. Chess pieces line the side of the board, almost ready to be put into play. Some are vague and unfinished, while others are almost startling in their clarity and precision. All this makes the playing board seem strangely out of place with its surroundings, creating a surreal atmosphere.

The two entities stared at the board with what seemed to be satisfaction, then gazed at each other calmly.

"All the conditions have been met," said Good.

"The players are all present and accounted for; the stage has been set," agreed Evil, gesturing to the board. "I see no reason to delay."

"Very well," said Good. "Begin assembling your players. I shall do the same."

"Good luck," said Evil.

"Likewise."

"Of course."

* * *

Two beams of light cut through the darkness, revealing dirty, rusted surfaces in a warehouse. Little billows of dust raised with every step the people holding the flashlights took. The place was dead silent, having been abandoned years ago and left empty for a lack of anything better to do with it.

The shorter figure turned to the taller with a sound of exasperation. "What are we doing here, Mulder?" she asked impatiently.

"I received a mysterious phone call late last night while I was….well, never mind that. Anyway, the caller gave me this address and told me that all my questions would be answered if I met him here tonight at 11:21 PM," explained Mulder.

Scully somehow resisted the urge to smack her forehead. She settled for a sigh. "How many is that this week?"

"Only four."

"Ah, they’re cutting back?"

He only gave her a little half smile in response, letting her know that he knew how annoying he was at times, and giving her his own version of an apology. She just sighed again.

They fell silent again, continuing their search of the warehouse. Suddenly, an ominous click above the filled the air. The agents froze for a moment, then both spun around, pulling out their guns and aiming them in the direction of the sound in one smooth motion.

* * *

The shooter on the catwalk smirked confidently as he stared down at the FBI agents aiming confusedly in the dark. He adjusted the setting on his night-vision goggles so he could see his targets even more clearly. He smiled at the thought of the reward he would receive from the Smoking Man for getting rid of these pests. His finger tightened on the trigger slowly.

* * *

As Mulder searched the dark room he tried to subdue the panic rising in him. He berated himself for getting Scully involved in this situation. Getting himself killed in his quest for the Truth was one thing, but he should have known better than to put her in danger as well. Now they were both likely to be killed.

The sharp crack of a gun being fired broke the tense silence. Giving up his search for their assailant, Mulder frantically threw himself on top of Scully; attempting to shield her from harm. They had barely hit the floor when a harsh cry was heard, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor from above. Looking over, Mulder saw their attacker lying still on the floor. His head snapped up in time to catch a glimpse of movement overhead, then the sound of quickly retreating footsteps echoed through the warehouse.

He sprang up to give chase, seeing that Scully had paused beside the gunman and was unhurt. As he neared a wall, he saw the dark figure slip through a doorway and disappear. Mulder, close behind him, followed, only to find himself grabbed by rough hands and slammed into the wall outside. While he was still reeling from the blow to his head, he felt his gun being grabbed and shoved under his chin. Putting together the elements of the situation: dark, mysterious figure running away from a violent scene, and someone pointing his own gun at him, he came up with-

"Krycek!" Mulder yelled. "You rat bastard! What are you doing here?"

At that moment, Scully stepped through the doorway, gun drawn. In a move too fast for the eye to follow, Krycek had disarmed her as well. As they both gaped at him in surprise, he took a few steps back and covered them both with Mulder’s gun while he tucked Scully’s away in the waistband of his jeans.

"To answer your question, Mulder, I’m saving the lives of two very ungrateful FBI agents." Krycek said in a cheerful tone of voice. "Now turn around and face the wall. Both of you."

"Why, so you can shoot us in the back?" Mulder asked sarcastically.

"No, so I can handcuff you and your lovely partner to the pipes over there. Wouldn’t want you coming after me as soon as I turn my back, now would we? Here," he said, tossing Scully a pair of handcuffs. "On second thought, you do it. I’m not sure Mulder can control his temper, and I’d hate to have to shoot him. Put one cuff on yourself, pass it through the pipe there, then attach the other one to Mulder."

Scully reluctantly cuffed herself, glaring at Mulder for getting her into a situation where she had to obey Krycek of all people. But she knew better than to argue with a known assassin who was holding a gun on you. Unfortunately, Mulder, as usual, wasn’t thinking quite that logically.

"No way am I going to stand here and let myself be handcuffed while you go free to do who-knows-what!" Mulder shouted indignantly.

"Shut up, Mulder!" Scully hissed at him, grabbing his wrist firmly and snapping the cuff on him. "Don’t provoke the dangerous man with the gun!"

"Don’t worry, Mulder," Krycek said, smirking annoyingly. "If I’m not back in a week, I’ll send Skinner with a bowl of water."

"You little…" Mulder growled, lunging at Krycek in rage.

"Ow!" Scully exclaimed, as her wrist jammed into the pipe at Mulder’s violent movement.

"Scully! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-," his frantic apology was cut off abruptly as she hit him hard on his arm.

"I would appreciate it, if as long as we are attached like this, if you would attempt to control these infantile, brainless tantrums. All right?"

Mulder nodded wordlessly, opening his mouth to start apologizing again, when a choking sound brought his attention back to Krycek. The bastard was laughing at him! Not just laughing either. He was bent over, helplessly convulsing with mostly silent giggles, tears streaming down his face. The gun was hanging limp from his hand, and Mulder’s fingers itched to try to snatch it from him. A glance over at Scully, and he tossed out that idea. Besides, the son of a bitch was out of reach. Instead, he and Scully just watched incredulously while the trained, heartless killer tried unsuccessfully to get control of himself. Every time he looked at the two of them staring at him, it just set him off again. Finally, his laughter was reduced to sporadic fits, enough to be able to speak.

"God, Scully, you would have been a great assassin! Give me a call if you ever need a job," he said, somewhat unsteadily. He pretended to duck away from the cold glare she shot him, and grinned unrepentantly at the fuming Mulder. "Well, you kids have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."

At that, he turned and started to saunter off. As soon as he turned his back, Mulder quickly reached down and grabbed for the gun hidden in his ankle holster. Only to growl in rage again as he discovered it was gone. The bastard must have taken it from him during their brief struggle. How the hell…?

* * *

At Mulder’s growl, Krychek couldn’t help but start laughing again. Apparently, Mulder wasn’t prepared to deal with an efficient, skilled Krychek who didn’t make mistakes. Alex was glad about that. He was having such fun! Finally, he had been allowed to show some of his true capabilities. He would do what he was told, but it was annoying to have to pretend to be so incompetent all the time. Especially around the smug Mulder.

"Progress report," Krycek heard from the communicator in his ear.

"Mission was a success," Krycek responded, quickly getting his humor back under control. "Target is dead. Mulder and Scully did see me though."

"Did you have any problems?" Birkoff asked with a trace of concern in his voice.

"Nothing I couldn’t handle," Krycek said, smiling fondly. "You should have seen the look on Mulder’s face when he recognized me though."

"I’ll bet," Birkoff laughed, relieved Alex was all right. "Operations wants you to report in a debrief before returning to the Consortium."

"I can be there in ten hours."

"Ok, I’ll tell him. Looking forward to seeing you again."

"Me too," Krycek said, smiling again, as he cut off communications. So he was distracted when a dart shot out of the darkness and embedded itself in his shoulder. He reacted instantly, yanking out the dart and diving into cover. His gun was out a split second later, but in moments, it had dropped out of his nerveless fingers. He slumped over, struggling futilely to stay conscious. The last thing he heard was approaching footsteps, then he blacked out completely.

* * *

Willow Rosenburg sat at her computer screen in her dorm room, the glow of the monitor casting a strange luminescence in the dark room. Buffy was staying with Riley again, and Willow didn’t mind at all. It gave her completely unrestricted time to work on her little project.

It had happened a few weeks ago, while randomly exploring the various government bases she had worked her way into. She had picked up the traces of something she couldn’t identify, just the smallest stray electronic signature, expertly covered up. Normally she would dismiss it and move on, but the fact that someone had worked so hard to cover it up had caught her attention. Ever since then, she had been trying to trace the signature, following it through countless websites and servers. Meanwhile, she had had to cover her own tracks. It was long, grueling work, but now, almost three weeks later, she was close. She could feel it.

As she typed quickly, the lights on the little machine flashed frantically, loading new information as fast as its memory would allow. And then, with an almost anti-climatic beep and click of the mouse, she was in. Sitting straight up, the little red head squealed with excitement and reached over for a sip of her Frappachino before settling into explore mode.

* * *

The sterile rooms and halls of Section One were uncharacteristically busy, almost frantic. Of course, that may have had something to do with the sirens wailing at unbelievably high pitches and the lights that flashed repeatedly.

"BIRKOFF!" Yelled Operations, stalking over to the resident computer expert’s station. "What in the hell is going on?"

Birkoff was using his chair to slide quickly from one computer to another and then to yet another, typing in commands at an amazing pace. "Someone’s gotten into our mainframe."

"How is that possible?" Asked Madeline in her normally calm and rational voice, who had just entered the scene.

"I don’t know." Replied Birkoff without looking up. The young man tried desperately to clear his head, which was pounding after a fifteen-hour shift and a lack of food, not to mention the sirens. Collecting his thoughts, he began to type again.

* * *

Meanwhile, Willow’s computer suddenly gave out a loud series of beeps, which startled her from her reading. Glancing at the window that had popped up, her eyes took in the situation quickly. As she read, a line appeared in-between her eyebrows.

"Oh fudge!" She exclaimed. "Someone’s trying to kick me off!"

She stretched her arms for a moment, then settled her fingers over the keyboard once again, preparing to fight back.

* * *

Waiting for Birkoff’s command to work, it almost seemed as if all of Section was holding its breath. Birkoff, thinking he had fixed the problem, was leaning back in his chair confidently. So when the beep came from the computer, no one was more surprised than he was. Leaning forward, he read the VID window and made a small sound that seemed to be a mixture of surprise, exasperation, and awe.

"The little SOB bypassed my commands," he stated dumbly.

"How is that possible?" Asked Madeline over the noise.

"I don’t know."

"Well, FIX IT!" Yelled Operations.

"I’m trying to!"

* * *

A new series of beeps sounded from her speakers and Willow sighed. "Well, if that’s the way you’re going to be, fine." She started to sign off, but then smiled and continued typing. There was one last thing she wanted to do.

* * *

Suddenly, the sirens stopped and the lights resumed to their normal steady pattern.

"What happened?" Asked Operations.

Birkoff frowned. "They signed off."

Madeline barely blinked, but said, "That does not seem to be very logical."

"It isn’t." Just then, one more window popped into Birkoff’s screen. "What in the…" said Birkoff to himself, leaning forward. On the window, a bright yellow smiley face appeared. As he watched, the face contorted until it was sticking its tongue directly at him. Across the bottom, the words "Nah-nah-nah-boo-boo" ran from one side of the window to the other.

When Operations saw this, his face became red. "This guy is asking for it. I want him found, and I mean NOW!"

Madeline wisely said nothing but followed Operations as he stalked back of the room in much the same manner as he had entered.

Birkoff, exhausted, fell back into his chair. At that moment, Nikita walked up, nonchalantly sitting on the edge of his desk. "What’s up Birkoff?" She asked, the same as she always did.

Birkoff stared at her for a moment, then returned his gaze back to the computer screen, where the tongue was still sticking out at him, and burst helplessly into laughter.

* * *

"Mulder, you got us into this mess-as always. You can call him!"

"But I don’t have my cell-phone."

"Unbelievable. You lost another one?"

"They’re small little bastards!" Mulder said petulantly.

"That’s ok," she said sweetly. Mulder smiled. The smile faded as she continued, "You can use mine."

Grumbling, he snatched it from her and dialed Skinner’s number reluctantly. After five rings, their supervisor answered. Scully listened intently as Mulder tried to talk his way out of this one.

"Hello sir, it’s me."

"Yes sir, I realize what time it is."

"No sir, of course I don’t have a grudge against you!"

"Well, you see sir, Agent Scully and I are…hand-cuffed together…"

"…What?! Of course not sir!" Said Mulder in a shocked tone of voice.

* * *

Birkoff sat back in amazement. This was the person that had caused Section One to go into a panic? Who had hacked into what was believed to be an unbreachable security system and caused everyone endless hassle for the last eight hours, especially himself?

Unbelievable.

His computer beeped to signal the end of his download, and Birkoff grabbed the panel from the drive and headed to Operations’ office, walking up the stairs he normally avoided at all costs two at a time.

Knocking on the door, he was greeted with a gruff, "Enter".

The door opened and he stepped in, his nervousness rising when he saw not only Operations but the ever-intimidating Madeline standing there as well. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I’ve found the person who hacked into our Mainframe."

* * *

"Where are the firecrackers?" Asked Xander.

Everyone looked at everyone else, dumbfounded. "What firecrackers?" Asked Buffy.

Xander groaned. "You people are amazing. You can’t have a proper Fourth of July picnic without firecrackers. You have to have a whole stack to set off periodically and annoy all the neighbors. It’s expected."

Giles frowned. "I don’t think I like this holiday very much."

"Oh come on. Will someone please go buy some at the store down the street?"

"Why don’t you?" Asked Riley logically.

"Because by the time I get back, Buffy will have eaten all of the fried chicken."

Everyone turned and looked at the Slayer, who was in fact on her fourth piece of chicken. "Good point," said Riley.

Buffy elbowed her boyfriend in the ribs, and then continued to eat as he groaned lightly. "I like chicken. Sue me."

Willow stood up and brushed off her clothes. "I’ll go. I’m finished anyway."

Xander grinned at her lopsidedly. "Thanks Wills. You’re the best."

"Yeah, yeah." Turning around, she paused, then turned back with a grin. "Do realize how strange it is for us to be sitting here waiting for the fireworks and eating fried chicken?"

They all looked confused. "What’s so strange about that?"

"Look where we are!"

They all studied their surroundings closely, then shrugged.

"So? It’s home away from home," pointed out Buffy.

Willow laughed and headed out of the graveyard, moving towards the convenience store nearby. Entering, she headed towards the fireworks display. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an unfamiliar man behind the counter. Off-handedly, she wondered what had happened to Robert. Yet another part of her mind was trying to bring her attention to the fact that there were traces of gasoline in the air. By the time she put all this together, however, it was too late.

* * *

The gravestone read, "Beloved Friend".

They had fought about it, not knowing what could possibly be said that would do her to justice. Once they realized that nothing could, it hadn’t seemed that important anymore.

They had a closed casket service, because the body had been so burned. As it was, the police had had to use the dental records to identify her.

Staring at the grave, they all stood silent. There was nothing left to say or do, nothing they could feel. Besides empty.

"Willow Rosenburg," the gravestone read. "Beloved Friend."

* * *

"Very well. Begin assembling your players. I shall do the same," the Voice said, echoing through the chaotic darkness of Methos’ dream. Confusing images and drifting sounds came and went in flashes too quick to fully grasp. He saw a diner, an ornate chessboard, heard the crack of a gun, then the muffled blast of an explosion. The clearest image, however, was the brief flash of jade green eyes that seemed to see right through him. In his dream, he knew that all these events and people were connected, and that if he could see the pattern, all would be made clear to him. He could almost reach…

Methos snapped awake, breathing quickly and drenched in sweat. He was aware that he had just dreamed, but could not remember any details. The feeling would not leave him that there was something important that he should remember. Eventually, he gave it up. Whatever it had been, it was gone. All that he was left with, was the disturbing impression of vivid green eyes he had never seen outside his dreams.

* * *

Willow slowly opened her eyes, allowing them to adjust to the bright white room. She winced as she felt a slight throb in her head, but when she went to put her hand to it, she discovered that she was somehow

chained onto the chair. She had the distinct sense that this was not a good thing.

Just then, the door opened and a woman came in. Willow automatically shivered. "Hello, Willow," the woman said. "You’ve been quite adventurous lately, haven’t you?"

"Hi," Willow replied. "Before you say whatever it is you’re gonna say, can I just make sure that this isn’t about that notebook that I accidentally took from the Student Center on Thursday? I mean, I swear I didn’t mean to take it, I just forgot I was holding it and then Buffy was all, ‘Danger’ and I forgot, ‘cuz I was in a hurry. I promise I’ll return it and I’ll never do it again."

Madeline simply stared at the young woman as she continued to babble incoherently. During her time in Section she had had to deal with many things-murderers, terrorists, thieves. All of them she could handle with ease. But the exact procedure of dealing with the rambling, innocent nineteen-year-old was a bit more complicated. Usually, Madeline had to torture her subjects to get them to talk. This girl just wouldn’t shut up.

"Willow," Madeline said gently, trying to interrupt the flow of words coming from the young girl’s mouth. Willow ignored her and kept speaking frantically.

"…And I’m babbling again. Xander says I babble too much. It’s just that when I’m nervous, I tend to talk a lot, and I’m sorry, but I’m sure you don’t care, so I’ll just be quiet now," Willow said, ending her tirade abruptly.

Madeline sighed inwardly, somewhat relieved. If this girl was going to have any sort of future at Section, she was going to need to gain some self-control. Then again, Nikita was much the same when she first joined Section. "Willow," she said again, patiently, "We’re not angry with you. In fact, we were very impressed with your technological expertise."

Willow blinked in surprise. "Really? So…I’m not gonna get tortured?"

That caught Madeline’s attention. "What gave you that idea?" She asked carefully.

"Nothing! Nothing at all. It’s just when you’re chained to a metal chair in a big white room in Sec…in a secret place, your instincts go with, ‘This is bad.’ I mean, I’m sure you people are nice and all, and I’ve certainly have nothing against you personally, Madeline-No! I meant, um, oh boy."

Madeline had kept silent during the girl’s rambling this time, certain that she would give herself away. The girl had surprised her when she revealed that she knew who Madeline was. She was better than everyone had anticipated. "Enough," she stated. "We both know what’s going on here."

The innocent façade on Willow’s face faded a bit, her eyes got a little less wide and her voice was no longer quite so childish. "You can’t just make me disappear like this, you know," the girl said. "I’ve got friends who…are resourceful."

"You didn’t disappear. You died."

Realization dawned on the red head’s face. "Ok…that means one of two things. Either I’ve died and gone to hell, or you’re going to recruit me. And since I don’t see a pitchfork anywhere, I’m gonna go with the latter."

Madeline didn’t allow any of the considerable surprise she felt to show on her face. The girl was definitely sharp; maybe she did have what it took. After all, Birkoff could use a partner-not to mention some competition now and then. Madeline knew that he had been stretching himself too thin, trying to finish the workload all by himself. Perhaps this was an efficient way to solve two problems at once.

Willow didn’t like it that the scary lady was being quiet for so long. Then again, she didn’t seem like the talkative type. She waited for her response as calmly as she could under the circumstances.

"You’re a very perceptive girl, Willow. We could use someone with your skills. In fact, we are going to use you."

Willow could practically feel the cheesiness and futility of the cliché, but it had to be said nonetheless. "What if I don’t want to be used?" She asked calmly.

"Don’t play innocent, Willow. You know too much about Section to ask that question. There’s only one way you’ll ever leave here, and we both know what it is. However, if that is your choice, I’m sure something can be arranged."

"No, no, that’s ok. Thank you for the kind offer, but I was never one to be a martyr," Willow replied honestly.

"Good. As long as you know what’s expected of you." Madeline walked forward and unlocked the restraints, watching as Willow stood, rubbing her wrists. "Your training will begin in one hour on level…"

"Six," Willow interrupted. "I know." The girl turned to leave, then stopped and looked back. "Madeline?"

"Yes?"

"How did I die?"

"You were blown up," replied Madeline.

A sad look passed over Willow’s face as she nodded, heading out again. "Guess Xander never got his fireworks," she murmured under her breath.

* * *

Krycek came to and was immediately reminded of why he had let himself pass out. He had been tied up to the hook on the ceiling for the past twenty-four hours, while the Consortium thugs tried to extract the information they wanted. Somehow they had found out that he was working against them, and had been questioning him to find out who he was really working for. They didn’t have a clue what they were up against.

He had allowed himself to lose consciousness to give himself a little break. After all, these amateurs didn’t know enough to keep him awake. Really, this was so unprofessional that it was almost insulting. He had been trained by Madeline. These neanderthals thought that a little beating and some creative uses of electricity would break him? Not likely.

"Don’t worry, the team is almost there," Alex heard in his ear, as Birkoff reassured him again. Even though their attempts at torture had been laughable, it had been a comfort to have his voice talking him through it.

The door to the room he was being held in opened, signaling that they were ready to start on him again. He barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes in annoyance, concentrating on keeping his face blank and indifferent. This was interesting, though. The usual thugs were accompanied by a familiar cloud of smoke, and the man who was never seen without it.

C.G.B. Spender walked slowly over to where Alex had been suspended by one arm and took a leisurely circuit around him, observing the various bruises and burns. He then sneered at the men who had caused them. "Is this the best you can do? What do I pay you people for?" He asked contemptuously.

* * *

Michael’s team began their final approach to the building that Krycek was being held in. Nikita could barely hold herself back from immediately charging in, but Michael’s calm presence was enough to keep her in control. At the sound of the raspy voice of the Smoking Man, she started moving a little bit faster. She really wanted to kill that man for what he had done to Alex. The explosives had been set. Now they just had to get to their positions, and they could get Alex away from him for good.

* * *

"They’re right outside, Alex, hang on," Birkoff said, working hard to keep his voice steady.

Alex concentrated on the voice, blocking out what Spender was doing to him. Damn that man and his cigarettes.

Suddenly, everyone was distracted by an explosion that shook the building. Spender looked around frantically, then turned to face Krycek again. Krycek opened his eyes and stared right back at him. When the sounds of automatic weapons being fired reached their ears, Krycek’s lips parted in a vicious smile, his eyes gleaming. The Smoking Man growled wordlessly in rage, as black clad figures began to move into the large room, taking out the men Spender had brought with him. He used them as cover for long enough to reach the opposite doorway, pausing to fire at the oncoming operatives who dove for cover. He vanished through the doorway, with half the team in hot pursuit.

Nikita stopped next to Krycek, carefully cutting the rope that held him, and supporting his weight out to the van. She tried to avoid hurting him more, but with the shape he was in, that was impossible. She pulled him into the van, and Michael and the rest of the team followed. As the van pulled away, the building exploded in a giant blast, sending debris flying everywhere. Nikita spared a moment of regret for the fact that she hadn’t been on the team sent after Spender, then turned her attention back to Krycek, who was cradling his arm against his chest in pain.

"His arm has been dislocated," Michael said impassively. "It should be re-set as soon as possible."

Krycek nodded, and braced himself against the side of the van. Michael took a firm grip on his arm, then, with an expressionless face, snapped it expertly back into place. Alex didn’t make a sound, although his face did pale a bit more. Nikita, though, winced, and glared at Michael.

"It’s ok ‘Kita, I’ll be fine. I’ve survived worse," Alex said in a quiet and subdued voice.

Nikita said nothing, just sat down and leaned against the side of the van. He sat down next to her, and she pulled his head down into her lap and stroked her fingers through his hair tenderly, comforting him as best as she could.

Michael looked down at the two of them, struggling to keep his jealousy from showing. Nikita claimed they were only friends, and Michael knew for a fact that they weren’t sleeping together, but still, at moments like these he wondered if there wasn’t more to their relationship than just friendship. He heard a small sigh come from Krycek as he relaxed in Nikita’s embrace and drifted off to sleep. Studying Krycek’s prone form, even Michael had to admit that the man had a certain charm.

Feeling Michael’s gaze, Nikita looked up and met his eyes. Exasperation showed clearly in hers, and suddenly, feeling foolish for suspecting her, Michael looked away.

* * *

Mulder slammed the door of his apartment shut as he entered it. He hated Mondays. Skinner had finally come to pick them up-Sunday afternoon. That meant that he and Scully had spent their Saturday night chained to a rusty pipe together, which wouldn’t have been so bad, but after the first hour she had moved from being annoyed with him to completely ignoring his presence. He had a feeling that it had something to do with those knock-knock jokes he had kept telling. He had just been trying to cheer her up! When Skinner had shown up at last, it had taken him nearly an hour to saw through the handcuffs with the hack- saw he had brought. Neither Skinner nor Scully had said a word to him, and this silent treatment was beginning to wear thin. After all, it’s not like it had been his fault. Well, ok, maybe a little, but they were still being way too harsh.

After Skinner had finally gotten them loose, Scully had stalked wordlessly over to the car and sat down in the front seat, staring stonily ahead. Mulder had climbed into the backseat and sat down, unwilling to say anything for fear it would be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. And if he were going to be lectured, he would have rather they did it separately than in a tag-team effort.

It was after they had been driving for a few minutes that Mulder first noticed that his handcuffs were missing from their usual place on his belt. Suddenly suspicious, he had taken out the key to his handcuffs and furtively inserted it into the keyhole on the cuff still attached to his wrist. The key had turned smoothly and the cuff popped open immediately, confirming Mulder’s guess. It had been all he could do to keep from cursing aloud. He had thought Scully had been mad before. If she ever found out about this, he was really screwed.

All in all, it hadn’t been a good weekend.

Returning his thoughts to the present, Mulder reflected that things hadn’t really improved much since then. Scully still wouldn’t deign to speak to him except in toneless, one-syllable responses to direct questions, and the reaming he had received from Skinner this afternoon in his office was still ringing in his ears.

The day would have been tolerable if not for the fact that Scully had found out about the handcuffs. After all, he had had to put in a request for a new pair after his last ones had been destroyed. He should have known better than to think Scully wouldn’t find out about it. If he thought she had been cold before, the frigid silence that filled the office after that gave him chills. He had had no idea that Krycek had such an evil-minded sense of humor.

Sighing, he wearily walked over to his answering machine to check his messages, half expecting a tax audit or lawsuit. With the way his day was going, he certainly wouldn’t be surprised. Instead, Byers’ voice greeted him, telling him to come over right away. Well, an evening with his paranoid friends would certainly get his mind off of his problems at work, he thought. Picking up the coat he had just dropped carelessly on the floor, he left the apartment, smiling for the first time in days.

Part Two

The beings known as Good and Evil still sat before the chessboard, but now the setting had changed. Instead of a diner, now a coffee shop was suspended in the void of space. Worn red carpeting covered the floor, and the wood-paneled walls were lined with comfortable looking couches and loveseats. Behind the counter, shiny appliances sat silently, never used. Altogether, it was much like any other coffee shop one might find anywhere in the world, excepting for the lack of a ceiling. If one stood in this coffee shop and looked up, they would see only the endless stars.

Although the board had not changed, some of the pieces had become more defined. The shapes were becoming clearer, beginning to more closely resemble a traditional chess set.

"Things are beginning to fall into place," said Good, calmly regarding his opponent.

"Indeed," responded Evil. "The Event draws near."

"It will not be long now."

* * *

Krycek tossed restlessly in his sleep, the sound of his harsh breathing loud in the empty Infirmary. Faces flashed behind his closed eyes, belonging to both people he knew and strangers. He saw Michael and Nikita, back to back, fighting an unseen enemy. The figure of CGB Spender, surrounded by smoke, leaned menacingly towards him. Mulder and Scully stood in an embrace, surprising a half smile out of him even in sleep. Madeline stared at him, a haunted look in her eyes as she looked at an outstretched hand. He saw a flash of Birkoff laughing happily with an unfamiliar red headed girl while Operations looked on disapprovingly. The final image he saw was that of another stranger, a man this time, who did nothing, simply stood staring at him, his eyes both challenging and calling to him.

It was the intensity of his reaction to this vision that woke him. He lay still in his bed as he woke, having learned long ago that it was often useful to deceive others into thinking he was still asleep. Often useful information could be picked up in this way. He knew immediately from the smell and feeling of the room he was in that he was back in Section One. From his still sluggish reactions, he knew Nikita had drugged him in the van to ensure he would get rest. He was still puzzling over the strange dream he had had when he heard a voice coming from the hallway through the open doorway.

"Ok, Willow, you are not lost, you are not lost. Oh God, I’m lost! ‘Of course I know where Level Six is, sure I do.’ Idiot! Sure, impress the Scary Ice-Queen Lady. That’s such a good idea. Stupid! Then when you can’t deliver, why not just ask her to torture you to death?" The voice from the hall muttered.

Krycek smiled at the humorously accurate description of Madeline. In fact, this mysterious voice was the most bluntly honest he had heard in Section for a long time. Even Walter was more discreet than that.

Intrigued, he opened his eyes just in time to see a small figure pass his door, obviously confused.

"Hey!" He called out, "Come here."

The retreating footsteps stopped and hesitantly returned. A teenage girl with surprisingly innocent features popped her head into the room. "Me?"

He didn’t answer at first, struck dumb as he saw a mirror image of the girl he had just glimpsed in his dream laughing with Birkoff. What the hell was going on here?

"Who are you?" He asked suspiciously.

"Willow," she answered promptly.

"What’s your rank and assignment?" he questioned impatiently. He must have encountered her before somewhere. That was the only explanation for how she wound up in his dream.

"Um…I don’t know?" She said, unsure of herself.

"What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’?" He snapped.

"Well, I just got here, and I finished talking to the Sca-I mean, Madeline, and she told me to go to Level Six, only I’m not really sure where Level Six is, and I only have another half an hour to find it, and now you’re yelling at me too, and I just don’t think it’s very nice!"

Krycek smiled at her boldness, and gestured for her to come into the room. Innocent naivete like that couldn’t be faked. Even he wasn’t that good, and he was widely regarded as the best Section had to offer.

Willow stepped in and perched on the edge of the bed.

"So, do you think you could tell me how to get there?" She asked, seemingly completely in control of herself again.

Krycek blinked, momentarily disoriented by her rapid change in demeanor. He shrugged off his disturbing dream as just a coincidence and focused on the girl in front of him.

"In a while. First, explain to me what you’re doing wandering the halls of Section One."

"Well…A few days ago… I sort of hacked into your mainframe…just a little."

Krycek blinked again. "You what?"

"Broke into your mainframe. I didn’t mean to! I was just messing around. You know, something to keep myself busy."

"What kind of equipment were you working with? Which organization?"

"Organization? Well, there is the computer club at college. But they stopped meeting a couple of months ago, so lately it’s just been me and my PC," the girl grinned sheepishly.

Unbelievable. No wonder Section had snapped her up. Maybe his dream had been prophetic. Even though he had grown fond of this girl in only a matter of minutes, he had a feeling that Birkoff would feel even stronger. That is, after he got over his ego damage, Krycek thought, grinning again.

* * *

Methos walked into the living room of his apartment and leaned back into the cushions of his couch. He took a sip of the bottle of beer he held and sighed. His dreams had been increasing in frequency and intensity lately, so he hadn’t gotten much sleep during the past week. He became more comfortable and relaxed into a full sprawl, creating a boneless, catlike posture that mystified all who saw it. Picking up the remote, he turned on his TV, looking for something to put him to sleep. He settled on the news, amused at what humans thought was important in this age.

He set his beer down on the coffee table and propped his feet up, smirking at the thought of what Macleod would say if he were there. He had finally started to doze off when he jerked awake with a sudden shock. Looking around for what had alerted him, he focused on the TV again, where a reporter was speaking.

"Yesterday, tragedy struck the small town of Sunnydale, as a local convenience store was destroyed under mysterious circumstances. Although the police have yet to find the cause of the explosion, two deaths have been confirmed. One, yet to be identified, was behind the counter at the time of the explosion. The community is more struck by the death of the other victim, however. Attending the local college,

Willow Rosenburg was a model student and good friend to many. This senseless tragedy has shocked the nation, and all possible resources are being utilized to uncover the truth of the cause of the blast."

A picture of scorched ruins flashed onto the television screen, and Methos was startled when he found the sight familiar. He was positive that this explosion had been one of the recurring images in his dreams.

How that was possible, he didn’t know, but he did know that he had to investigate this further. Something in Sunnydale was calling to him, now he just had to find out what.

Now fully alert, he picked up the phone and began to make arrangements.

* * *

Mulder stared in excitement at the computer screen. Finally, some solid proof of government involvement of a cover-up!

"Are you guys sure this isn’t a fake?" Mulder asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Totally positive," Langly said.

"Well, not completely sure," added Byers, cautiously. "We still have some tests to run and research to do for absolute certainty."

Langly rolled his eyes at the correction, and Mulder smiled at their by-play, suddenly in a good mood. Just then, Scully walked through the door, her expression making it clear that her spirits were not quite as high as her partner’s.

"Ok, Mulder, I’m here," Scully said bitingly. "What was so important that you had to call me at 3 o’clock in the morning…again?"

"Come here, Scully, you gotta see this!" Mulder responded cheerfully.

Ignoring Frohike, who had gotten up from his chair as she approached and gallantly offered it to her, she stood in front of the computer and watched, unimpressed at first, as the image of a dirty warehouse, not unlike the one she had been in not long ago, became clear on the screen. Her expression became more attentive when she saw the man hanging by one arm from the ceiling. Squinting at the fuzzy, black and white image, she realized that the restrained man was actually Krycek. Reining in her surprise at seeing him again so soon, Scully looked down at the time notation and saw that it was just hours after he had left them handcuffed together. Although there was no sound, it was pretty clear that Krycek was not in good shape. It looked like an interrogation, and the man doing the questioning appeared to be the

Smoking Man.

"Keep watching, Scully," Mulder said. "Here’s where it gets really interesting."

Scully turned back to the screen in time to see the image start to tremble.

"Here’s where the explosions start," Mulder cut in again.

Scully nodded, never taking her eyes from the screen as everything began to explode into action. As she watched, heavily armed, black clad figures entered the room and opened fire on the Smoking Man and his goons. The Smoking Man quickly retreated, while his men were ruthlessly gunned down. A mysterious blond woman carefully cut Krycek down with a large knife produced from somewhere on her person, and carried him out quickly but gently.

"Kay," Mulder interrupted again. "Now cut to the outside feed."

Langely nodded, typing commands into the keyboard. The screen went black for a moment, then a new view appeared, this time showing the exterior of the warehouse. From here, the damage the earlier explosions had caused was evident, and Scully watched, absorbed now, as a plain black van pulled up outside the building. The warehouse door burst open, and several figures ran out, all piling into the van. Scully recognized Krycek and the woman carrying him, as well as noticing a brown-haired man who seemed to be in charge. Scully turned back to Mulder, about to ask him where he was going with this, when a bright flash returned her attention to the monitor, which now showed only static.

"We think they blew up the warehouse at this point," Mulder explained to a puzzled looking Scully. "I’ve located a warehouse in the DC area that was destroyed. The authorities claim it was a gas leak, but I think it was this warehouse. I did some more digging, and the building has obvious ties to the government. We’ve got them, Scully!"

"Don’t get too excited, Mulder," Scully said, trying to keep him from getting his hopes too high. "All we have here is circumstantial evidence. None of this would hold up in a court."

"I know that," Mulder said impatiently. "But this will lead us to the connections we need. I mean, judging from what we saw on the video, Krycek has little reason to be on friendly terms with the Consortium anymore. If we can just get our hands on him and talk him into testifying, we’ll have a solid case!"

"Mulder! I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Alex Krycek is a known felon and can’t be trusted. We wouldn’t be able to prove anything with him as our main witness. Talk about a lack of credibility!"

The Lone Gunmen watched, fascinated, as the FBI agents began to seriously warm up to their discussion. Their heads turned back and forth between them like cats watching a Ping-Pong match. They wondered who would come out on top this time, quietly placing bets on the outcome, with the loyal Frohike putting money on Scully, while the more realistic Byers and Langly knew Mulder’s patented Puppy-dog eyes would win out in the end. They always did.

* * *

Although Krycek was considerably recovered by his third day in the Infirmary, when he had suggested to Madeline that he be returned to active status, she had merely stared at him expressionlessly. After that, he didn’t bring it up again. After all, his instincts of self-preservation had always been good. So he had stayed in the Infirmary for the entire week, and every day Willow came to visit him. One day, she had even brought him a present.

The girl was resourceful; he had to give her that. Since she had no access to traditional gifts like balloons or flowers, she had come up with something a little more original. One day when her instructors had left her unattended, she had gotten online and printed out a book. He could still recall with clarity the timid look on her face as she had given it to him. "To help pass the time," she explained. "I thought it was appropriate."

He didn’t know quite how to react when he read the title-Harriet the Spy. No one had ever done something like that for him before. Since then, they had become closer than ever. Although Krycek was slow to trust, he already felt strangely connected to this girl.

On the last day of his stay in the Infirmary, she had come to him slightly frantic. She had just received the news that her basic training had come to an end. Starting the next day, she was to report to someone named Birkoff, who would be her new supervisor. He had done his best to calm her fears and assured her that he would show her around and introduce her to everyone the next day so she wouldn’t feel so lost. He then proceeded to describe the various people in Section, and tell her amusing stories about them. Soon she was her normally cheerful self again, and she had surprised him with a hug as she left.

Now they were entering the main corridors of Section, and Willow braced herself, knowing that she was about to make the all-important first impression. Krycek, feeling her anxiety, reached over and squeezed her hand. "Don’t worry," he whispered to her. "You’ll be fine."

She smiled at him tentatively as they reached the end of the corridor and headed towards Walter’s station. After all, Krycek thought to himself, who could be more unthreatening than Walter?

"Hey, Alex!" Walter greeted him with a huge grin and a hug. "Feeling better?"

"Good as new," Alex responded, smiling himself. "Madeline really didn’t need to keep me locked up as long as she did. I was recovered days ago."

"Well, you know Madeline. Anything to keep your efficiency level up. So, who’s your pretty friend?" Walter asked, noticing Willow for the first time, who smiled shyly at the compliment.

"This is Willow," Krycek introduced her, giving her a little encouraging push forward. "Section’s most recent addition. She’ll be working with Birkoff."

"Really," Walter said with raised eyebrows. "I hope you can bear working with him, he can be a real pain in the butt sometimes."

"I heard that," an indignant voice was heard from behind Willow.

"It would have been wasted if you hadn’t," Walter said good-naturedly. "Willow, this is Birkoff. He’s really not so bad once you get used to him."

"Very funny," Birkoff said, scowling at him. "Madeline wants these simulations cycled right away, and I don’t have time today. Alex, do you think you could help?"

"Sure thing, Birkoff. Are you going to be working at your station?"

"When am I not?"

"Poor baby. Stop your whining. You’ve become spoiled since I left."

"Yeah right. I just got used to getting through a day without someone calling me ‘brat’ and constantly teasing me. Sue me if I enjoyed the break."

"You know you missed it, brat."

"I missed you," Birkoff said, suddenly serious.

"I missed you too," Alex said, pulling Birkoff into a tight hug.

"Let’s give them a minute," Walter said to Willow, putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her away while the two men continued their reunion. "They haven’t seen each other in a while."

"What’s up with them?" Willow asked curiously. "I mean, I haven’t known Alex that long, but he doesn’t really seem to be the touchy-feely type of guy."

"Those two grew up like brothers," Walter said softly, looking fondly at the pair. "When Alex first came to Section years ago, he was still a child. Birkoff’s been here since birth, and Alex sort of adopted him as a surrogate younger brother. Alex has always looked out for Birkoff, and once he started walking, Birkoff would follow Alex around everywhere. It was the cutest thing… Anyway, the two have been inseparable ever since."

"Wow," Willow said. "That must have been a weird childhood. They were just kids?" Willow asked quietly, looking around at the stark white walls all around them and the blank faced agents hurrying by.

"Yeah. It’s amazing they’ve both grown up as stable as they did. Well, relatively stable anyway."

"Whatever he’s telling you, Willow, I’m sure it’s all lies," Krycek said as he and Birkoff walked over to where the two of them were standing, both of the men smiling happily. "Don’t believe a word."

"Ah, that reminds me Willow, when you’ve got a free afternoon, come over to my station. Have I got some stories for you."

"Noooo!" Krycek and Birkoff groaned in unison, looking at Walter in dismay who just grinned mischievously at them.

"Actually, I think I might be free right now," Willow said, chuckling softly. "Madeline told me to take today to learn more about what goes on here. Talking to you would probably be the best way to do that. Don’t you two have things you should be doing?"

Birkoff and Krycek stared wordlessly at her, then turned identical expressions of wordless appeal at Walter, who just shook his head without mercy. They exchanged heavy glances, then just sighed and walked off, knowing there was no getting around Walter when he was like this. And they did have work that needed to be done. All they could now was hope Walter would have some restraint. Willow turned back to Walter, and he started to tell her all the many stories of Section One he knew.

The two new acquaintances began to walk around the center of Section, Walter pointing out everyone he knew, making funny little names for them or telling a short story that rewarded him with a delightful laugh from his companion. When a blonde walked in, Walter pointed her out, saying, "And that’s Nikita. Hey Sugar!"

The blonde heard the call and walked over to them. "Hey Walter."

Walter smiled, then said, "Nikita, this is Willow."

Willow waved. "Hi. Alex told me about you."

Nikita looked at the redhead in surprise. "You know Alex?" She asked semi-coldly, staring at the girl in front of her, trying to take in the pink fuzzy sweater and denim overalls.

Willow nodded. Just then, Alex’s voice called out across the room, "Hey Pumpkin!"

Willow turned in response to the recent nickname she had acquired and Alex’s voice continued, "Come over here. You may as well learn how to process these SIMS now."

Willow nodded, then turned back to Nikita and Walter. "It was nice to meet you, Nikita." To Walter, she said, "Thanks for showing me around, Walter." She hesitated, then gave the gruff old man a hug before heading across the room, leaving two very surprised people behind her.

* * *

Riley finished packing up his notes for the day, as the new professor erased the chalkboard. It had seemed like the college would never find a replacement for Professor Walsh, but then this man had appeared out of nowhere, with the perfect credentials and fitting all the requirements. Riley had been a little suspicious at first. In his line of work, it paid to be alert to any unusual circumstances, and this new guy had fit the bill a little too perfectly. Now, though, even he had to admit that Professor Pierson was a great lecturer and an experienced teacher. He still wasn’t really sure how he felt about him replacing his mentor though. Sure, Professor Walsh had turned out to be a manipulating, psychotic liar, but he had spent too many years looking up to her to just casually dismiss.

"So, Mr. Finn, how do you think the students are responding to me?" Methos asked his new Teacher’s Aid.

Riley decided to give this man the benefit of a doubt and smiled. "It’s Riley, Mr. Pierson. And to answer your question, I think that they like you. You’re a good lecturer."

"Thank you," Methos said. "I’ve had lots of time to perfect my technique."

Buffy saw her boyfriend talking to the new teacher and headed towards them. Since Professor Walsh’s class had been…interrupted, the college had offered a continuation of the class as soon as they had found a replacement, which had been in the middle of summer. Many of the students had been annoyed when they had had to cut their vacations short, but most couldn’t afford to pay for the class again next year.

Methos watched as the blond girl walked across the room and kissed Riley on the cheek, which was quite an accomplishment considering he had to stoop down while she stood on tiptoes to reach him. The sight of them together struck a chord in him, leaving him with a vague sense of familiarity that he could not explain. It was similar, though not quite as strong as the feeling he had gotten from the explosion on the news. Since he knew that these two had been friends with her, he took this to mean that he was on the right track by investigating the student who had died in the explosion.

Methos smiled wryly to himself. Some might say that this was a lot of trouble to go to just to figure out some dreams and a few unexplained feelings, but Methos had never been one to limit his actions just because they didn’t make sense. So, he was easily amused and diverted. There was nothing wrong with that.

"Oh, I’m sorry Professor Pierson, how rude of me." Riley said, embarrassed at his lack of manners. "This is Buffy Summers. Buffy…"

"I know, Professor Pierson," she said, reaching to shake his hand and smiling brightly up at him. Methos was somewhat taken aback at the firmness and confidence of her grip.

"Ah, Miss Summers! I’ve been meaning to make an appointment to talk to you."

"About what?" Buffy asked with slightly narrowed eyes, smiling a little less brightly now.

"Don’t worry, you’re not in any kind of trouble. Although from what I’ve seen of your records, that’s a rather unusual state for you to be in. No, I just wanted to see how you were dealing with the loss of your friend, Willow. I understand you were quite close."

A cloud passed over Buffy’s face, and there was no sign of the clueless, happy teenager she had been a moment before. Now he saw how frail that mask had really been, and how deep her pain really went. Methos was surprised at the darkness he perceived in her eyes. Whatever else, this girl was no stranger to pain and loss.

"Why don’t you come into my office and we can talk. It might help to get some of this off of your chest."

Buffy looked reluctant, but Riley nudged her elbow in encouragement. She made a face at him that showed her displeasure, but began moving. The three walked into the small room and Methos moved behind the desk. "Please excuse the boxes. I haven’t had the time to unpack. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

The two students sat down next to each other, Riley taking Buffy’s hand and entwining their fingers together. Buffy was clearly uncomfortable with the situation, and was apparently not used to sharing her grief. Methos found this to be a revealing reaction, and studied this girl aged beyond her years with renewed interest. Now he just had to get her to open up to him. He loved when something new came along to challenge him. So few did anymore.

"So, Buffy…have you been to see a counselor about this yet?"

"No, I didn’t. I’m handling it fine," Buffy said, a bit confrontational.

"I’m sure you are," Methos said, injecting a soothing note into his voice that he was hoping she would see as a challenge to her maturity and would cause her to react in a more adult manner in response.

"I understand all about the emotions and depression that go along with losing a loved one, professor, and let me assure you that I am dealing with my problems in my own way and time."

*Gotcha * Methos thought to himself, careful not to let his triumph show on his face. People grow so predictable in their responses after time. Appeal to a teenager’s pride and they inevitably did what you wanted eventually. "And what way is that, exactly?" He asked her.

She seemed a little taken aback, and Methos could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to think of a good response. "Have you even cried for your loss yet? How often have you voluntarily visited her grave? Do you share your grief with friends who are feeling the same pain? I think you are just repressing how you are feeling and that you must deal with your grief before you can move on."

All of a sudden, the girl snapped out of the silent stupor she had been in. "Move on? MOVE ON?! My best friend DIED! I told her everything, and she stood by me through everything, and I mean EVERYTHING. Now there’s this huge empty hole in my life, and YOU expect me to MOVE ON?!" She yelled.

Methos sat, barely blinking through the short tirade. He had expected a response like this. She had so clearly been bottling her emotions that an explosion had been inevitable. "That’s good, let it all out," he encouraged.

Just then, two men came rushing through the door. "We heard yelling," said the younger one, a teenage boy with dark hair. "Is everything ok?"

Methos glared at the intruders. Just when he had been making progress, these two bloody idiots had come charging in.

Because Buffy was still shaken up from her outburst, Riley answered for her. "Everything is fine, Xander. We were just having an impromptu counseling session with Professor Pierson, and things got a little intense."

Giles walked towards Buffy, glaring at Methos on the way. Giles didn’t know exactly what had been going on in here, but it had obviously upset Buffy. When he reached her chair and crouched down in front of her, she gave him a small, fake smile. "We were just talking about Willow."

Methos watched the visible reaction that went through the room at the mention of the name. The two newcomers seemed to be in as bad shape as Buffy herself. All three were pale, with dark circles under their eyes and their clothes gave off the baggy appearance of someone who had recently lost weight. This girl’s death had obviously affected them all on a deeply personal level. "Would you like to join us?" He offered.

"Wow, free therapy. If I had received that offer years ago, I might’ve had a chance," said the boy they called Xander sarcastically. Giles just gave Methos an extremely hostile look. In the younger one, Methos recognized a very well developed use of sarcasm as a defense mechanism, while the other man clearly felt the need to protect and care for others in order to fend off his own grief. Even though the situation was serious, Methos couldn’t help but feel a little cheerful as he looked forward to the next few weeks where he would deal with three head cases like these. He had come to Sunnydale to idly look into a small mystery, but his tendency to be easily amused was popping up again.

* * *

"All units check in," Birkoff’s voice said over the comm.

"Unit Five in position."

"Unit Two in position."

"Unit Four in position."

"Unit Three in position."

"Unit One in position," Alex’s voice could be heard clearly.

Birkoff breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief, and glanced for a minute at the red head he was now sharing his workspace with. She was still in training, but she had made incredible progress, and Madeline had felt she would learn more quickly by observing real missions. She seemed like a nice enough girl, and Birkoff was glad Alex had another friend. He rarely opened up to anyone. Birkoff just couldn’t help feeling a little resentful that she had just waltzed into his life and rearranged his routine. Now he was always having to stop what he was doing and explain it to her. To be fair, he only had to explain it once, but it still took up time he couldn’t really spare. It was pure annoyance. There was something about her that just pushed all his buttons.

His musings were interrupted by a violent coughing fit that wracked his lungs and he had to brace his hand on the console in front of him to steady himself. The headache he had been nursing suddenly flared up, and he shook his head to clear it, aware he had to stay focused and alert for the mission going on. People were counting on him.

Willow watched Birkoff, her eyes dark with worry. He seemed really sick. When Willow had mentioned it to Madeline yesterday, the other woman had waved away Willow’s concerns with her usual pleasantly blank expression. Willow took this to mean that they didn’t have anyone who would serve as a full-time replacement for him. She knew there was a three person team that took over during the times he had to sleep at night, but missions were always planned to occur on the times Birkoff was at his station, and if emergencies came up, he was always on call. Most operatives took twelve hours of downtime, but Willow had never seen the computer station when Birkoff was not there. She felt sorry for him that his life was so completely devoted to this place that he had no room in his life for anything else. Maybe that was why he gave up so much of his downtime to Section. He had nothing else to do with it.

Something flickered on the screen in front of her, catching her attention. She glanced over to see if Birkoff had seen it, but he was rubbing his eyes tiredly, and not paying attention at the moment. She considered pointing it out to him, but decided to wait for a minute to make sure it was important before bothering him. He seemed really out of it.

* * *

Alex mingled among the crowd on the Champs de L’Eysee. His eyes searched the people around him with careful attention to detail. At the moment, all seemed normal. There was no sign of the Consortium or their thug who was being sent to plant the bomb. Ever since permanently returning to Section One, Alex had been put in charge of any mission remotely connected to the Consortium. Madeline had been her normal efficient self in extracting the location of this planned sabotage. The French government had finally pushed the Consortium too far, and this was their response. His team was spread out across a two-block radius because their unwilling informant hadn’t known exactly where the bomb was supposed to be placed, and they had exactly fifteen minutes to find it. He wondered off-handedly why Birkoff was being so quiet.

* * *

After tracking the disturbance in the crowd she had noticed for a few moments, Willow realized that what she was seeing was a woman running towards Alex. She turned to her trainer reluctantly.

"Um…Birkoff?"

"What?" He snapped at her.

"I was just kinda wondering if that woman there was supposed to be running towards Alex."

"What?" He asked again, the word now confused as he tried to focus his feverish eyes on the screen in front of him. The more he tried to focus however, the blurrier things became as the room began to spin around him. Willow cried out in alarm as Birkoff collapsed from his chair onto the floor. She quickly knelt beside him and felt his forehead, which was clammy and burning up with fever. Without a second thought, she reached over and removed the communicator from his ear, placing it in her own.

In the corner of her mind, she heard Operations yell angrily, "What the hell is going on down there? Get the meds in there!"

A medical team ran up to Birkoff and Willow turned her full attention to the mission. "Alex," she said calmly, "This is Willow. Be careful, there’s an unidentified woman heading towards you."

Alex spun around, searching the hoards of people. "Thanks Willow. Where’s Birkoff?"

"He, uh, had to step out," Willow replied, trying to keep all traces of worry from her voice so Alex wouldn’t pick up on it.

Alex knew something was up, but didn’t have time to question Willow about it because just then he caught sight of the woman Willow had mentioned running towards him. She was a striking sight, wearing a stylish skin-tight outfit and a form-fitting black leather coat. As she came nearer, he could make out her brown eyes and outrageous spiky blond hair. His first thought was that she was working with the Consortium, but her seemingly genuine expression of welcome and lack of visible weapons made that possibility unlikely.

"Corey!" Amanda exclaimed gleefully, launching herself into the arms of her old lover and linking her legs around his waist, pulling him in for a deep kiss. She had just had a fight with MacLeod and the sight of her old friend was a good excuse to blow off some steam. Not to mention a great way to make MacLeod go all possessive on her. He was so cute when he played the brooding jealous lover bit.

Alex held himself stiffly, not sure quite what to do about this insane woman who apparently had him confused with someone else. She seemed determined, however, to suck his tonsils down her throat with her enthusiastic kiss. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away from him. "Lady, I don’t know who you think I am, but I have no fucking clue who you are!" He exclaimed.

"Corey? What’s wrong?" Asked Amanda, confused. Then she grinned. "Is this some sort of new game? Ok, I wanna play!" Through some amazing feat of flexibility, she managed to get her hand free without getting off of him, offering it to him. "Hello, I’m Amanda. And you?"

Alex gritted his teeth with frustration. This woman had obviously escaped from some sort of mental institution. Suddenly he spotted a suspicious figure over the shoulder of the woman on top of him and groaned. He recognized the man from his time in the Consortium, and Alex watched as he dropped a sealed package into a nearby trashcan. "Ok, I don’t have time for this!" He said harshly, forcing the blond off of him and onto the ground. "All units, converge to my position! Target has been sighted! Willow, track him!"

"He’s heading east, towards Unit Four," came Willow’s assured voice.

"Got it," Unit Four replied.

Alex pushed past his assailant and towards the trashcan, leaving a very confused Amanda in his wake.

* * *

Mulder yawned as he stumbled through the door to his apartment, half-heartedly throwing his coat over a chair. He had just returned from another late night at the Lone Gunmen’s place, where they had been trying once again to discover something useful from the video feed. So far, despite endless speculation and countless hours of research over the past few weeks, they had turned up no sign of the elusive government agency Mulder was positive was behind all of this.

Mulder sank tiredly onto his couch, turning on the TV and flipping aimlessly through the channels, not really paying attention to the screen. Mulder was no closer to finding out the truth than when this all started, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that when it all came together, he would find the answers to all his questions.

"And I will find out what’s going on," he muttered under his breath, thinking it was quiet enough that if someone had bugged his apartment again that his voice would be covered by the noise from the television, and needing to hear a voice. "Now I’ve got some proof, and soon I’ll get my answers, if I have to shake them out of Krycek myself!" He finished with a wry grin for his own melodramatic statements and his admittedly strange habit of talking to himself.

He was to meet the Lone Gunmen the next night for dinner and a brainstorming session at the bar across the street from their place. Scully was getting pretty fed up with his new obsession and all the time he was putting into it, and he knew it was only a matter of time before her exasperation overpowered her patience and tolerance for him. For the moment, however, he pushed all thoughts of government conspiracies and angry partners out of his head and relaxed back into the cushions of his couch. Eventually, he fell into an uneasy sleep, plagued by images he never remembered upon waking up, except for the bright flashes of Scully’s hair that burned in his mind like fire.

* * *

Krycek came in through the entrance of Section and headed straight for Birkoff and Willow’s station. As he approached, he saw Willow sitting in Birkoff’s normal chair, bent over the keyboard, reviewing the progress of different missions. When she heard him coming she stopped and looked up at him, smiling wearily.

"Hey, congrats on a job well done. Where’s the Consortium guy?" She asked him.

"They’re taking him to the White Room. What happened? Where’s Birkoff?"

After a moment of feeling extremely sorry for the Consortium guy, Willow replied, "He passed out and they took him to the Infirmary. They say it’s bronchitis, so he’ll be down for a week or so, but he should be fine."

"Are you sure it’s nothing serious?" Alex asked, worried.

"Yeah, I snuck a peek at the med files in a spare minute. He’ll be fine. He’s just run down, trying to take care of everything and train me."

Alex blinked. "You snuck a…never mind that now. Why are you running the missions by yourself? You’re just a trainee."

"Well, when Birkoff collapsed I just sorta took over and no one’s come to tell me not to. So I’m just doing what Birkoff did, or trying to. I hope I’m not messing things up too badly."

Alex peered over her shoulder, running an experienced eye over her work. His eyebrows raised when he discovered that everything seemed to be in order. All the missions were running smoothly. It was all routine at this point, but he was still impressed. "No," he said to her comfortingly. "You’re…doing very well."

Willow rewarded his compliment with one of her priceless grins, and was about to turn back to her computer when Michael walked up to the station. Willow paused, waiting to see if the strange man was actually going to say something, while Alex straightened up and smiled insincerely. "Why Michael. How good of you to grace us with your presence. Is there anything we can do for you?" He asked in a saccharine voice.

Willow watched, amazed, as the man’s face became even more cold and expressionless. She didn’t know how he did it. He must practice in front of a mirror. "I’m here to take over for the girl," Michael said, his

monotone voice barely audible.

Willow stood and gladly relinquished her post, rubbing her eyes tiredly, but Alex didn’t move. "You know, in case it’s escaped your notice, she has a name."

"No, it’s fine Alex. I’ve only been here a few weeks," Willow interjected, trying to diffuse the situation.

Michael just stared at her for a moment, then turned to the computer dismissively. That was when Willow started to get annoyed. Here she was, trying to be nice and all, and this guy acts like he’s king of the world! Just then, Operations’ voice filled the air. "Alex! Willow! My office, now!"

Willow and Alex turned away from the station, Alex and Michael exchanging one last cold look. As they walked to Operations' office, Willow muttered, "Tense man."

"That’s not the word I’d choose," Alex growled, and Willow laughed at his expression.

They walked up to the door and Willow took a deep breath, slightly nervous. She had never met Operations before, only heard his voice yelling over the intercom. Come to think of it, whenever she did hear him he was yelling. Strange, and now that she thought about it, kinda scary. Alex saw her expression and patted her on the shoulder comfortingly before knocking on the door.

"Enter," snapped a voice from inside.

They stepped inside. Willow noticed that Alex assumed an army stance while entering, smoothing any trace of expression from his face, and she wondered at the transformation. She looked over at the man who stood in the room and studied him. He didn’t appear to be the type that would be running a covert anti-terrorist organization at first glance, the white hair and bright blue eyes making him appear more like a eccentric old man. But when he spoke, the façade faded and she saw the cold man beneath it. Madeline stood next to him, equally cold and inscrutable.

"A situation has developed with your Agent Mulder, Alex. Apparently he has gotten a hold of some kind of evidence that links you to us. We’ve had him under surveillance for some time now, and he got a bit too careless and mentioned it in his apartment. We have discovered that the video feed is downloaded onto a computer at a location that will be on your panel. Michael can cover Birkoff’s position until you and Willow return tomorrow night from the mission. Then Willow will take over Birkoff’s station until he recovers." Operations said shortly.

Alex’s expressionless mask slipped as surprise sank in. "You’re sending Willow on a mission with me?"

"She is the only one available with the necessary technological expertise," said Madeline. "We’re very aware of your own abilities, but you need to be defending her while she hacks into the computer and deletes all traces of this file."

Alex still looked shocked. "But…Willow is going to be Birkoff’s replacement? She’s only been here a short time!"

"We’ve made our decision based on her performance today as well as information you do not have access to. Don’t question us," Madeline said.

"Excuse me…but I’m going on a mission?" Willow asked, sounding lost.

* * *

"Do you think she has any idea of her true potential?" Operations asked Madeline as they stood in his office, watching Willow walk by with Alex beneath them.

"I don’t think even we know her true potential. Judging by what she’s shown us so far, there may be no limit to what she can accomplish," Madeline pointed out.

"Basic tech training in a week. Quite impressive. Another month and she’ll be Birkoff’s equal. I keep wondering if we should have trained her for the physical aspect of missions," Operations said.

"She is more valuable inside. Besides, I believe Alex and Nikita will take care of that. With them as her trainers, she’ll soon become much more than capable."

"Are you sure you want to put her under Nikita’s influence? I am glad she bonded with Alex, he’s our best, but Nikita tends to be…unpredictable."

Madeline hid her smile at that. She didn’t point out that Nikita behaved much the same as Paul had when he had been an operative. Like father, like daughter. "I believe they’ll be good for each other. Once Nikita develops an attachment to Willow, she will strive to be a good role model, as well as pushing the physical side of her training. Willow will benefit from constant exposure to such things."

"You don’t think we’re pushing her too hard?"

"With her genealogy, I don’t see how we could. Given the proper encouragement and guidance, she could be the best thing to happen to Section since we recruited Alexei."

Part Three

Once again, the scene around Good and Evil had changed. This time, the two beings are sitting on the deck of a boat, a shining white pontoon. Chairs covered with waterproof vinyl line either side of the boat, with occasional wood-veneered surface breaking the monotony. The captain’s chair stood empty and the propeller never stirred, but nevertheless the boat sailed through space silently.

Good and Evil still stared at the chessboard in front of them, seemingly motionless. The pieces were still changing, still forming and being gathered together. They spanned different areas around the board in clusters, clumps of obsidian and ivory dazzling the eye.

Good began to say something, then stopped with a small smile. Evil noticed this and moved his gaze to his opponent. "What?" Evil asked.

Good simply smiled. "I was about to make some comment observing how things are almost ready. Then I realized that I have made the same comment twice before and felt no need for a third conversation along these lines."

Evil smiled. "Yes, perhaps it is wiser to remain silent and work."

So that’s what they did.

* * *

"It’ll be another five minutes," Alex said as he turned the corner to another back alley.

"You seem to know your way around here," Willow observed.

"D.C. is my old stomping grounds. Besides, it’s always important to know the territory if you have to make a fast escape."

Willow paused for a moment, thinking. "Was it just me, or did the entire situation in Operations’ office seem sort of strange? I mean, I understand sending me on a mission if they have to-there’s no one else and I’m expendable. But me replacing Birkoff? Does that make any sense?"

"Operations and Madeline never do things without a reason. Either they think you’ll be able to do the job or they’re setting you up for failure. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t get in over your head."

A small sign of worry crossed Willow’s face. "I hope Birkoff is feeling better."

"If I know Madeline, he’ll be in recovery for awhile. She pushes her operatives hard, but when they need rest she’s just as ruthless in seeing that they get it-whether they want it or not," he said, smiling ruefully.

"I was thinking of going over to his apartment in my down time, making sure he’s taking care of himself. Maybe make him some soup. Do you think he’d mind?"

Alex smiled. "Probably, but do it anyway. That boy needs some nurturing, and Madeline isn’t exactly someone you can cuddle with."

Willow blushed. "Who said anything about cuddling? I don’t cuddle! Ok, maybe I do enjoy cuddling but...NO! I mean I...um...oh dear."

"That’s ok," Alex said, shrugging carelessly. "I think you two would make a cute couple." He was careful not to mention the dreams he had been having where they were together. Mulder might believe in that kind of stuff, but it tended to freak sane people out.

"Hey, who said anything about a couple?" At Alex’s exasperated look, she smiled. "Well, ok, he is cute. But I haven’t really dated anyone since...never mind. But there’s something about him...that I recognize somehow. I can’t get him out of my head."

Alex wanted to respond to that, but just then, he saw the street their target was on, and turned onto it. He resolved to sit her down for a conversation later and work out the issues she had to get over with her past. From the way she was always avoiding the subject, it was obvious that her wounds from leaving her old life had never closed. Right now, there was a mission to focus on.

"Let’s go," he said in a business-like tone of voice, parking the van in an alley next to the building they were hitting, out of sight from across the street where he knew the three hackers were eating dinner.

He looked over to the passenger seat, where Willow had stopped fidgeting, and a look he could only describe as resolve settled over her features. She met his eyes without flinching or hesitation, and he began to be a little less worried about the outcome of the mission.

* * *

"I can’t believe I let you drag me to this meeting," Scully said again, a mixture of irritation and indulgence in her voice. "Like I couldn’t find a better way to spend my Saturday evening than listening to you and your friends spew conspiracy theories while Frohike ogles me from across the table.

"Oh, come on Scully," Mulder wheedled. "You know it’s gonna be fun. This bar across the street from the guys’ place has the best spare ribs you’ve ever tasted."

"How are their salads?" Scully asked with a smile.

Mulder was about to reply to this, when he happened to glance into the alleyway beside the Lone Gunmen’s place. The plain, black van that was parked there would normally have gone without catching his attention, but something about it made him look again. For one thing, it was too clean, he noticed at once. The paint shined as if it had been applied yesterday, and the way it was parked slightly behind the dumpster made it seem like someone had tried to make it inconspicuous. Add to that the information the Gunmen had recently acquired, and in Mulder’s paranoid mind, it all added up to some covert government strike.

"Scully!" Mulder said quietly.

"What, Mulder?" Scully asked, sighing.

"That black van over there..."

"What about the van, Mulder?"

"It just...doesn’t fit," Mulder said, unable to really explain the incredible leaps of logic he was prone to making. "I think we should check out the Lone Gunmen’s place before we meet them at the bar."

Scully rolled her eyes, but reached over to her gun holster to loosen her weapon before carefully following Mulder to a secret entrance the Gunmen had had installed. They were, if possible, even more paranoid

than Mulder himself, and this passageway was not only good for quick, quiet escapes, but also for unnoticed entrances. Mulder once again thanked whatever Powers-That-Be had sent him Scully. He was sure anyone else would have ditched him long before this for his crazy sense of intuition that had gotten them into trouble so many times.

Turning back to the task at hand, Mulder gently eased the trapdoor open, blessing the carefully greased hinges. He peered around a bookcase strategically placed to hide someone in his position, and saw a redheaded figure bent over the Gunmen’s computer console. Something about her red-hair tickled his memory, but he dismissed it for the moment. He waved Scully over, and she climbed out of the hidden corridor quietly, holding her gun alertly. Just then, the figure at the computer made a noise that could only be described as a squeal of excitement.

"I think I found it Alex!" she said triumphantly, typing even more swiftly and confidently at the computer.

Mulder and Scully exchanged bemused glances. This girl couldn’t be older than eighteen years old. What was she doing involved in this? Then the importance of her comment struck Mulder, and he stiffened.

Could she be talking to…?

"That’s great, Willow," a familiar gravelly voice was heard. "Now just hurry and finish so we can get out of here."

Scully nudged Mulder over to one side, and together they leaned farther around the bookcase until they were able to make out Alex Krycek. He was standing braced loosely against the far wall, all of his attention focused on the doorway that in all fairness should have been the only point of access to the room. He looked very ready for action. The agents took in the solid black combat gear he was wearing that was very similar in appearance to what the people who executed the strike on the Smoking Man’s operation had worn. This confirmed the theory that Krycek was one of them, not their prisoner. Mulder, who had already made up his mind about that, struggled to hold back the rage that threatened to explode at the sight of his ex-partner. Remembering Krycek’s lethal efficiency from their last encounter, Mulder decided on a more practical option, rather than just tackling the bastard where he stood like he wanted to.

Before Scully could protest, Mulder had dashed out of concealment. The three steps it took to reach the computer where the girl sat absorbed seemed to take hours, but in reality only took a second. Mulder quickly placed her body between him and Krycek, pointing his gun at her left temple and his hand over her mouth. Whoever she was, she was obviously in league with Krycek, and that made her fair game in Mulder’s book.

At the first scuffle of Mulder’s feet on the floor, Alex had realized his miscalculation. Prokleenaht! (Damn!) Operations had assured him the Intel on this building was solid! By the time Willow’s first indignant, muffled protest was heard, Alex had his gun leveled at her attacker. He stopped himself from pulling the trigger at the last second when he recognized the gun wielder as Mulder.

Outwardly he didn’t react at all, but inside, he was quaking at the thought of what he had almost done to his assignment. Seven years of your life spent protecting someone, and it became more than just another job. They had made protecting Agent Mulder one of his secondary assignments back when they had first assigned Scully to be his partner. Madeline had seen him as their chaos factor, while Operations had been against the idea. In the end, it had paid off handsomely. Agent Mulder had a sixth sense where it came to sticking his nose into Consortium business where it was wanted the least.

All this flashed through Alex’s mind in the moments the two men sized each other up wordlessly, frozen and stalemated for the moment. Right then, Scully chose to step out of concealment, pointing her gun at Alex.

"Federal Agent! Drop the weapon, you’re under arrest!" None of them moved, and Scully glared daggers at him, as if she could make him to lower his weapon by sheer force of will. Alex took in the situation with the first real thread of fear he had felt in years. He was confident enough of his own abilities that he knew he would be able to take down the federal agents. That scenario would be ugly, however. He was not sure he would escape injury himself, not with Scully’s sharp-shooting abilities he had a solid respect for. But also, he couldn’t guarantee that Willow wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. So, for the time being, he did nothing, and waited for his opportunity.

"I said drop your weapon!" Scully shouted futilely again, never taking her eyes off of Alex, who still had his gun pointed unwaveringly at Mulder. Who in turn held his gun on Willow, who looked like she wanted to bite Mulder’s hand that was still held over her mouth. Alex shook his head quickly at her, and she subsided, but glared at him, which he didn’t think was particularly fair. It’s not like he was the one holding the gun to her head after all. Krycek was sure that Mulder wouldn’t start shooting unless provoked, though, and Alex didn’t intend to do anything to provoke him. Unless he was sure he had the upper hand, of course.

"No one needs to get hurt here," Alex said in a neutral tone of voice. "We’ll just collect what we came for and be on our way. You’ll pretend you never saw us, and everyone lives to see tomorrow. Now, doesn’t that sound nice?"

"Right," Mulder said sarcastically, matching Krycek’s tone on his last sentence. "Scully and I, federal agents, will just turn the other way while you, a known felon, traitor, and murderer, as well as the man responsible for the death of my father and Scully’s sister, and too many others to name, continues on with his criminal activities in the company of his underage accomplice while in the employ of some no doubt quasi-legal, shadowy government agency that operates outside of the law. Did I leave anything out, or does that just about cover everything?"

"Yeah, how about the part where I won’t kill you?" Alex growled, a little tired of the string of abuse he always heard from Mulder whenever they met.

"Sure, like you could," Mulder said, smirking. "Scully would take you out in a heartbeat of you tried anything. Not to mention your partner in crime here. She seems young, how many people has she killed? Ten? Twenty? Or do you assassins even keep track?

"For gods sake Mulder, don’t make any more of a fool of yourself than you already have! She’s a child. She’s never killed anyone before, and what we’re doing is in the interest of saving lives, not destroying them! Doorahk! (Fool!)"

During the tense standoff, no one had been paying attention to Willow. She did not understand a great deal of what was going on, but gathered enough to be sure that these strangers were FBI agents and wanted to arrest Alex. She knew immediately where her loyalties belonged, and her hand inched its way to the computer and the program she had entered there with a few quick keystrokes once she had hacked her way into the mainframe of their system.

Alex’s eyes tracked down to her face to make sure she wasn’t panicking, and found her eyes focused on him with a calm intensity that made it clear she was trying to communicate something. She looked meaningfully at the computer, then up at the lights, then back to him with raised eyebrows. He nodded his head imperceptibly at her, then snapped his gaze back up to Mulder, down the sights of the gun whose aim had never altered, giving nothing away.

Her fingers carefully crept towards their goal, and touched the keyboard. Before anyone had time to react, she tapped a quick combination of characters. Immediately, the room was plunged into total darkness. Alex, who had been expecting it, leapt forward in a blur of motion, and his hand shot forward unerringly though he was blind to snatch the gun from Scully’s hand and knock her off of her feet. Before she could do more than cry out in shock and outrage, Mulder gave a cry of his own as Willow sunk her teeth sharply into his hand, snapping her hand out at the same time to knock the gun from his hand.

In a moment, Alex was there, grabbing Mulder, who was bent over, nursing his hand and fumbling around noisily in the dark for his gun. He shoved Mulder in the direction he had tossed Scully, and they fell together in a heap. Curses emerged from the tangled mess, as Scully, who had almost managed to get up, was crushed under Mulder’s heavier body.

Willow, feeling Alex’s reassuring hand on her shoulder, turned back to the computer and input a new command from memory and touch, lighting the room up again. Now, Krycek had the advantage, as he tucked Scully’s weapon into a pocket of his pants and pointed his own gun at the two agents sprawled on the floor, still trying to disentangle themselves.

"Now kids, enough making out, you know that sort of thing shouldn’t be done in public," Alex said, smirking. Now that the situation was in hand, he could get back to his favorite hobby: Mulder baiting.

Finally, they made it to their feet, Mulder looking like it would only take one more provoking comment before he would throw himself onto Krycek and damn the consequences. Scully blew a wisp of mussed red hair out of her eyes that were icy as she regarded Alex with cold malice. Willow observed this behavior with interest, and hoped Alex knew what he was doing.

"Willow, finish up at the computer. I’ll make sure our friends over here don’t get taken over by any more misguided heroic impulses tonight."

Willow shrugged and sat at the computer, downloading the files they needed onto the CD she had brought, then erasing all traces of its existence from the computer. Alex had already run some type of device over the rest of the room, searching for any other copies of the file on a disk or CD, but had come up with nothing.

"What are you going to do with them?" Willow asked curiously.

"Bring them in," a voice commanded imperiously from the communicators in their ears.

Willow gave a little eep at being addressed so unexpectedly by the voice of Operations out of nowhere. It would take a while to get used to that, she thought, shaking her head ruefully as the agents stared at her.

"Are you sure about that, Sir?" Alex questioned cautiously. "Exposure at this point may not be…"

"That is an order!" The voice snapped. "You will bring Agents Mulder and Scully in to Section One to be dealt with."

"We just want to question them, Alexei," Madeline’s voice was heard next. "We still have many uses for your FBI agents, don’t worry about that."

"Understood," Alex said emotionlessly. In his mind, he was fuming over the fact that Madeline seemed to have read his mind again. How could she have known that he cared about what happened to the federal agents? He had always been careful to let no trace of his emotions show where they could be observed. Then again, she had that uncanny ability where all of the operatives at Section One were concerned, so he probably shouldn’t dwell on it.

"Who were you talking to?" Mulder asked, unable to restrain his curiosity any longer.

"My…supervisors," Alex said, smiling ironically. "In fact, they’d like to see you, so if you don’t have any previous engagements, it looks like you’ll be coming with us."

"What if we do have previous engagements," Mulder asked in what he knew was his most annoying tone of voice.

"They’ve just been canceled."

"Um, sorry to interrupt all this cool posturing and everything, but…I’m done," Willow said in a voice that was half irritated at their typical male behavior, half-apologetic. Scully looked at her with a raised eyebrow, as if Willow had said something right, and the two women shared a moment of understanding.

Krycek shot her a glare for taking all the fun out of their banter, and ruining a perfectly entertaining conversation. Nothing was more fun than trying to get a rise out of Mulder. It was too easy.

"All right, agents, let’s move," Krycek said briskly, waving the gun towards the door.

"Ummmm, we have another problem," Willow added hesitantly.

"What?"

"Well, if we’re bringing them along, and you’re going to hold them at gun-point the whole way, who’s going to drive?"

Krycek looked at her blankly for a moment, then resisted the urge to smack himself in the forehead. Basic field agent training included lessons on the vehicles used by operatives. No matter how gifted she was, Willow should never have been sent out into the field yet. She was nowhere near ready for missions, and with her efficiency, Alex had allowed himself to forget that for a moment.

"It’s not really an issue, because I’m not going anywhere with you people!" Mulder said stubbornly.

A deep crease formed on Alex’s forehead with his frown of irritation, as he felt the beginnings of a headache form. "Mulder, if you try to fight me on this, I’ll shoot you in the kneecap, drag you to the van, and let Scully deal with the bleeding. As for driving, unless the agents feel like being accommodating and let us drug them, Willow, you’ll have to do it."

"Me?" Willow squeaked, coming closer to panic at the thought of driving than she had yet so far that night. "I can’t drive! I don’t even have my temps!"

"Drugs!" Scully protested indignantly. "Like I’d allow you anywhere near me or Mulder with a needle!"

"Shoot me!? Like you’d have the nerve, you spineless little…"

"ENOUGH!" Krycek bellowed, losing patience with all the brainless chatter going on at once all around him. "Willow, go get in the van and start it up. Here are the keys. Mulder, Scully, I have a gun pointed at you, and you know I won’t hesitate to use it. So, I suggest you shut up and do what you’re told! Is that clear?!"

Willow nodded, eyes big, as she took the keys he dug out of his pocket with his prosthetic arm and handed them to her. She left without another word, but had the determined look back in her eyes. Good, it looked like she’d be able to handle this. Mulder and Scully were back to glaring at him, but that was fine as long as they stopped arguing with him.

"You know, for an amoral killer that you see as the root of all evil in the world, you two act with very little restraint around me," Alex said plaintively as Willow walked out. "Can’t you at least act like you fear me? It would help move things along very nicely."

The two weren’t exactly sure what to say to that, so after another unreadable glance was shared, they looked back at him expressionlessly. He felt his headache increasing. So, no one said this would be easy.

He could just see Nikita and Birkoff laughing at him back at Section.

"Now," he said slowly and patiently, as if to very small children. "We are going to walk outside to the van. The two of you will get into the van. I will get in after you. Willow will drive us to where we are going. If you try to escape or attack Willow or me in any way, I will shoot you with this gun. It won’t kill you, because my superiors want you alive, but I promise it will hurt a great deal. If my mood hasn’t improved by then, it may even maim you a little. Understood?"

"What makes you think you can get away with abducting two federal agents? Our backup-"

"We all know no one at the Bureau except maybe Skinner will ever notice the two of you are gone. As for backup…don’t make me laugh. We’re talking about you guys here. Now don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. The people I work for don’t have any interest in harming you. On the contrary, they’ve supported you and your work for years now. You’d be surprised what you may be able to learn about your

‘Truth’ from these people. We’ve been working to stop the same people you’re fighting against for decades now. Believe it or not, but we’re on the same side."

Mulder gave a disbelieving snort at that, but when he looked at Scully, she could see that his interest had been captured by what Krycek had said. She sighed inwardly in resignation. Great. Now they were going to let Krycek drag them off at gun-point to his hidden lair just so Mulder could maybe unravel a little more of the conspiracy he was so devoted to exposing. Not that they had much choice to begin with, but still…it was the principle of the thing.

* * *

Methos whistled cheerfully as he head down the dark side street in Sunnydale. He had been in this small town for a week now, and counseled the girl Buffy Summers quite regularly at the encouragement of her

boyfriend, Riley Finn. He wished that he could have spoken at greater length with the two men who had barged into his office that first day, but figured that eventually he would find a way to speak with them.

After all, he had plenty of time.

He turned the corner and continued walking straight to the cemetery, where he was going to take a look at the young girl’s grave. Investigating her seemed to be leading him down the right path; he had the feeling that he was on the verge of discovering something very important that he seemed to remember vaguely sometimes...sort of like those dreams...

He paused at the edge of the graveyard, struck by the sheer size of the burial ground before him. He wondered for a moment what could possibly cause such a high death rate in this small town, then smiled. He had almost forgotten that this was a Hellmouth. Surprising there wasn’t a Slayer lurking about somewhere. He started to walk, then paused yet again as he was struck with the problem of trying to find one specific grave in the midst of such a place.

While puzzling over this, he heard a voice and turned towards it, smirking when he realized that his problem was solved. The young man Xander was standing before a new grave, staring at the carved words on the stone. As Methos watched, the boy began to speak to the grave softly, his voice choked by tears and grief too often held at bay.

"Hey Wills," the boy paused, awkwardly shuffling his feet. "I know I haven’t been to visit in awhile. Since the funeral actually. I just...I didn’t want to think about it. Like, if I kept busy, then it wouldn’t be real and one day you’d just pop up with that grin of yours, babbling about one thing or another, and everything would be ok again. Giles wouldn’t be drinking so much, Buffy would eat, Riley would sleep knowing that Buffy was eating, you’d be alive again...and so would I." The boy paused, a tear slipping down his cheek, followed by another. "Fireworks. FIREWORKS! You died buying ME fireworks! After all that, the demons and the blood-sucking fiends and the general mayhem that comes up while fighting the creatures of the night, you died buying me fireworks. Who would’ve guessed?"

Methos felt a pang of pity for the boy. Even being as old as he was, he knew that losing someone close to you never got easier. There was always that pain that consumed you, and you did anything you could to avoid it, to forget it. Even if it meant forgetting the person you had lost. Until you got to the point where you realized what you were doing and did everything you could to remember, of course. As he watched, Xander knelt down and traced the letters on the stone gently, weeping.

"I’m so sorry, Will," he sobbed.

That was when Methos stepped forward. "I gather the two of you were close."

Xander dashed the tears out of his eyes frantically as he turned around. "Uh...I didn’t realize anyone else was out here. How long have you been there?"

"Long enough. So, tell me about her."

Xander paused, not sure what to say or whether or not he should say anything, but the need to talk about his friend surpassed his caution and he overflowed with stories and descriptions of Willow. Methos sighed inwardly and listened to the babble silently. Then something Xander said caught his attention.

"I mean, if we expected anyone to die it would have been Buffy. She’s the one who’s always in the most immediate danger...," the boy said during his long spiel.

Methos puzzled over this for a moment, then smiled. Things from Xander’s speech to the tombstone now made sense. Of course. Buffy Summers was the Slayer. That might be useful to know in the future.

* * *

Krycek finally let his guard down, and rolled his shoulders in an effort to relieve some of the tension caused by hours of holding a gun on Mulder and Scully. The two agents were finally settled into their seats in the airplane, securely restrained. Alex had observed the co-pilot carefully as she tied the knots. Fortunately, the woman had been an agent before an injury had relegated her to piloting to and from missions, and she knew what she was doing. All that was left to do after that was pull the black hoods over their heads in order to keep the location of Section One completely secure. Of course, Mulder had had some choice words over that, but Alex was becoming used to that, and was able to tune it out. Now they just had to wait for the team that was also operating in the D.C. area, and would be taking the same plane.

"Pumpkin!" Alex called out to Willow as she stepped out of the cockpit where she had been asking the pilot questions, and just being her usual friendly, charming self. "Sit down a minute, I wanted to talk to you."

"Kay!" The girl seemingly bounced towards him, and Alex shook his head, remembering that level of energy after a successful mission from when he had been a young agent.

"I just wanted to congratulate you on doing such a good job on the mission tonight. You were amazing."

Instead of looking flattered and pleased like he thought she would, Willow seemed slightly irked. "You know, I have been in dangerous situations before. Quite a lot of them, actually. But that’s not the point. The point is..."she trailed off, losing her train of thought.

"...You’re not a child," Alex filled in for her.

"Yes!"

"And you can take care of yourself."

"Yes."

"And you don’t need me to be patronizing and talk to you as if you weren’t a fully capable, intelligent adult able to act maturely in a difficult situation."

"Exactly! It’s nice that you worry, just don’t worry so much. Buffy used to do the same thing. She still does in fact. Or did...Never mind."

"Willow, you can’t keep avoiding your past like you’ve been doing. It’s not healthy. You need to talk about this and get it out of your system or else it’ll just fester and get worse."

"Talk about what? The fact that I had a life before I was kidnapped and snatched away from it? What a shock! What would be the point? It’s not like I can ever go back or see any of them again."

"The people you knew were important to you, and you can’t just deny that and pretend the first nineteen years of your life never happened."

"I’m not, I’m simply avoiding thinking about a subject that will make me sad. Besides, it’s not like there’s anyone I can talk to about this. There are things I just can’t say without giving too much away. In spite of what you might think, I didn’t have an easy life before coming here!" At that, the distressed red-head stalked towards the other compartment and away from a very confused Alex Krycek who was feeling helpless for the first time in a long while. Terrorists he could deal with. Shadowy government conspiracies he could handle, even when you threw in big bad aliens and paranoid FBI agents. But a teenage girl having an emotional crisis was way out of his experience.

Willow stormed down the length of the plane, very frustrated. Why did everyone always assume that she wasn’t able to take care of herself? She knew that Alex didn’t and couldn’t know about her previous life fighting the scourges of the demon world with Buffy, but still, that didn’t give him the right to treat her like a china doll that was going to break under every little bit of pressure...

She paused in her mental tirade for a moment, reflecting. Now that she was thinking back over the argument, she realized that whatever anger she had at being patronized shouldn’t be directed towards Alex. If anything, he had just tried to be encouraging and helpful, and she had over-reacted. She felt slightly foolish now, realizing that thinking about her past had brought up old frustrations with old friends. There was no need to take that out on Alex. Later, when she wasn’t feeling quite so sheepish, she’d go back and apologize.

Willow looked up from her seat at the sound of a small crowd of people climbing up the steps leading to the door of the plane. It appeared that the other team had arrived. Willow watched them curiously, not having a chance to have seen all that many teams returning from missions. These operatives seemed more tense than others she had seen around Section. She figured that was because they were still getting over the adrenaline rush. Lots of those uneasy glances seemed directed at the figure trailing the others and separate from them, however. Willow focused on the girl walking behind the others and ignoring them completely. She looked about Willow’s age and had brown eyes with short, practical brown hair. Willow noticed that she was also sporting a rather nasty cut on her left arm that no one else seemed interested in treating.

When the girl sat in a seat rows away from everyone else, and appeared to have no interest in dealing with the cut either, Willow decided something would have to be done. Reaching beneath her seat for the first aid kit she had noticed there earlier she got up and headed over to the girl. She cheerfully sat down next to her and opened the kit, ignoring the hostile, questioning look she got.

"What the hell do you want?" The girl asked harshly.

"You have a cut," Willow said patiently. "Since you didn’t seem like you were going to take care of it, I figured I could maybe help you out."

"Well, I don’t need your help. I’m fine."

"Really? It sort of seems like you’re bleeding to me. Now, hold still while I put a bandage on that. I haven’t been here for long, but it doesn’t seem to me that Madeline is the type who appreciates blood all over her upholstery."

"I said I’m fine!" The girl said, shrugging off Willow’s gentle hands angrily.

"Fine. I’ll just leave you and your gaping wound alone then, Miss Attitude-Problem. If you don’t want my help that’s just fine, see if I care, I’ll just leave you here to be miserable. You can save face and be Little Miss Oh-I’m-a-Suffering-Martyr. It doesn’t really matter to..."

"All right!" The girl interrupted her finally. "You can bandage the cut! Anything to shut you up!"

Willow hid a triumphant smirk as she leaned into the med-kit. Ha! No one could resist the Willow-babble for long. "Oh, thank you," she said sarcastically to keep up appearances then fell silent as she set about her work.

The young Section operative studied Willow curiously, not quite sure what to make of her. Her red hair appeared a little ragged and shaggy, as if she had gone too long without a haircut and her green eyes held the sparkle of someone who hadn’t yet been jaded by life in Section.

"So how long have you been in Section, anyway?" asked the girl. "It can’t have been very long, you still have that clueless, little lamb-lost-from-the-flock glow about you."

Willow smiled, but didn’t look up from the cut she was cleaning. To the girl’s surprise, she didn’t even press harder at the insult.

"I’ll choose to take that as a compliment," Willow said good-naturedly. "By the way, my name is Willow. Oh, and I’ve been here for a little over a month now."

"And you haven’t heard of me?" The girl asked with a great deal of bitter amusement in her voice. "Usually the recruits spend their first few weeks gossiping about people like me. And what are you doing out on a mission anyway? Recruits don’t usually leave Section for at least a year."

"Well, I never really worked with any other recruits," Willow said matter-of-factly. "Madeline said I shouldn’t be wasting my time with them, and they moved me right to Birkoff’s station. I think I’m supposed to be working with him after he gets better. ‘Til then, it looks like I’ve got his job. Yay me," she said unenthusiastically. She finished cleaning the cut and took out the gauze to wrap around it.

The girl sat staring at Willow, not really sure what to say to that. The fact that Willow had never heard of her made her head spin. All of the other operatives had, and made no secret of the fact that they considered her to be a freak for her strange powers. She had never been a very social person, but eventually being a complete outcast from everyone around you wore a little thin. Maybe this Willow would actually be willing to have a civil conversation with her from time to time. That was all she dared hope for.

"So..." The girl started, not exactly sure how to start a friendly, normal conversation. "Um, you’ve met Madeline, then? Really spoken to her, I mean."

"Oh, yeah," Willow said breezily. "Quite a few times. She recruited me, and checks up on me a few times a week. She makes sure I’m doing OK, and have everything I need. You?"

"Once or twice," the girl admitted, smiling slightly. "We’ve had conversations about my ‘Attitude problem’. Personally, I don’t see the problem. But, she’s kind of in charge of keeping the peace around

Section, so..."

Willow shrugged, taking the scissors out of the kit and snipping the gauze, taping the end neatly in place. "Well, at least she’s better than Operations. She can talk in a civilized voice. Him, he’s always yelling about something. I can’t understand how he can stay so mad all the time."

"It’s a skill that becomes easier with practice, just like any other," the girl said, smiling knowingly.

"I guess you practice a lot then?" Willow asked, raising her eyebrows. "Me, I’ve always preferred to be as pleasant as possible to others. I’ve found that it usually pays off in the long run."

"Really?" The girl commented bitterly. "Because in my experience, if you give people a chance, they’ll walk right over you and leave you lying in the dust."

"Well, that explains the hostile defense mechanism you’ve got in place there, then," Willow said with a grin.

The girl blushed, then smiled back hesitantly. "By the way," she said after a moment, "I’m Samantha."

Willow smiled in response, then took her uninjured hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, Samantha."

* * *

"What do you think it is?" Amanda asked as she and MacLeod bent over the device she had placed on his desk in the barge.

"You say you stole it from a guy that looked like Corey Raines? But wasn’t?"

"Yeah, it was weird. I didn’t even notice it at first, but the guy had no quickening. But I swear he could have been Corey’s twin! I’ve seen some weird stuff in my life MacLeod, but that was just surreal."

"Just what we need, two Corey Raines running around," MacLeod muttered under his breath.

After a few hours of trying to get the little machine to give up its secrets, MacLeod finally admitted defeat. This was an advanced level of technology he hadn’t ever encountered, and honestly, he was much more comfortable dealing with older fashioned technology. The only person he could think of that might be able to figure the thing out would be... No. He wasn’t going to go there.

"You know, MacLeod," Amanda said in the tone of voice MacLeod easily recognized as the one she adopted when she was trying to convince him of something. "I know someone who could probably help with this thing."

"No," MacLeod said firmly, ignoring how many times in the past they had had conversations that began like this. Somehow she always got her way. "We are not going to ask Methos."

"Why not?" Amanda asked in her most persuasive tone. "We both know he’s clever enough and tricky enough to tell us what’s on this thing. Plus, he always keeps himself up to date on modern technology and he’s a whiz at computers. Come on, MacLeod. You know it’s the only reasonable thing to do."

"No," MacLeod said, but Amanda sensed his resolve was weakening and moved in for the kill.

"Please, darling?" she asked in honeyed tones, sitting on his lap and running her fingers through his hair. "For me? I really want to know what’s going on here. This is a fascinating mystery, and I won’t be able to sleep until we get to the bottom of it. Or do much else in bed for that matter."

At that ultimatum, MacLeod knew he had lost, and accepted defeat gracefully. He swept Amanda up off the chair as he stood and she squealed in delight. Neither could resist the other’s charms, and they were both reminded of why they always returned to each other through eternity.

* * *

After checking the prisoners once more to make sure the knots were still holding, Alex headed for the back of the plane, wanting to make sure Willow was all right. As he headed through the doorway, he almost collided with the slight girl, who seemed in a much better mood than when he had seen her last. She was again cheerful, and was smiling once more.

"Alex, hi! I was just coming to talk to you," Willow said happily. "I wanted to apologize for acting the way I did. I overreacted."

"That’s all right, Pumpkin," Alex said reassuringly. "We all have issues with our past. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. I just want you to be happy, and I don’t think you’ll be able to with this cloud hanging over your head."

"I appreciate that, Alex. Not only am I not ready, but there are also certain things I can be pretty sure no one in Section will ever understand."

"Ok, it’s your decision. So, what were you doing back here?"

"Oh, I met someone really...well, I can’t say nice I guess, but interesting, definitely," Willow said, grateful for the change of subject. "She was with the team that came on earlier."

Alex followed Willow’s careless gesture over her left shoulder. No way. No way in hell was this happening to him! His first thought was that all of his questionable deeds had finally come back to bite him in the ass, but then immediately, he switched to darker thoughts. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Madeline could have set this up, but he really couldn’t see the point. After all, Section had always done everything possible to keep Mulder away from her. Why now? Why him?

"That...that’s Samantha!" Alex gasped; not sure his heart could take all of the shocks it was getting this evening. What had all of his training been for, if he was going to let every situation he was in take him by surprise? Lately nothing seemed to be in his control.

"You know her?" Willow asked, her eyes lighting up. "She was really rude at first, but we talked for awhile, and I think she’s really great. It would be nice to have a friend my own age around here."

"Uh huh," Alex said absently, as his mind frantically tried to figure out what to do. He couldn’t get past the fact that she was here. On the same plane. They were on the same plane. Oh God, he groaned inside his mind. Operations was going to kill him. Ok, he told himself sharply, narrowing his eyes, and snapping a sharp rein around his circling thoughts. The situation was bad, certainly, but nothing he couldn’t handle. But, if Mulder found out...

"He’ll kill me," Alex groaned inaudibly to himself. "This time, he’ll really kill me."

"What?" Willow asked, confused. Alex looked like he had right before the mission, with that focused, blank expression.

"Nothing," Alex said. "I need you to do something. Just go back over there and sit back down next to Samantha. Talk to her, tell her stories, do a song-and-dance, anything to keep her busy. Whatever you do, don’t let her leave this compartment. Got it?"

"Yeah," Willow said, still puzzled, but willing to follow Alex’s lead for now. "You’ll explain later though, right?"

"Of course," Alex said, his thoughts already racing elsewhere. God, why did things like this always have to happen to him? Other operatives never seemed to have these problems. He turned back to the section of the plane where the agents were restrained, rubbing his temples. His headache was coming back.

Willow turned away from Alex, shaking her head in bewilderment as she headed back to where Samantha was sitting. She sat back down next to her new potential friend and looked at her, startled to see a strange look on the girl’s face. "Samantha? What is it?"

Her mouth opened and shut a few times before she was actually able to say anything. "Do you know who that was?"

Willow looked over at the door, then back at Samantha. "Who, Alex?"

"That’s Alex Krycek! He’s a legend! The most amazing, skilled operative to ever come out of Section One. My God! I’m actually on a plane with him. This is incredible!"

Willow sat speechless for a moment. She had known about Alex-it was obvious he was held in high regard by almost everyone. But to have the most words Samantha had actually said to her as of yet be about how wonderful and amazing he was? It was more than a little weird. "I...um...ok? I mean, he is a pretty great friend."

"Friend? You’re friends with Alex Krycek?! That must be incredible! What I wouldn’t give to be able to have a conversation with him! I’m sure he’d be able to tell me all kinds of useful stuff. He’s the best field agent Section’s ever had. What’s he like?" Samantha finished gushing, looking at Willow uncharacteristically eager.

Willow paused, thinking. "Well...nice. And...protective. Loyal. I don’t know, he’s just Alex! He’s the only friend I’ve had since I got here; I’m not used to having to analyze him! Why don’t I just introduce you sometime?"

"Introduce me?" Samantha said breathlessly, then snapped her mouth shut, suddenly becoming aware that she was acting like a typical teenage girl who couldn’t control her emotions. Giving herself a mental splash of cold water, she schooled her expression back into its familiar neutrality. "Sure, if you want to. Improving your effectiveness as an operative is always a priority."

Willow saw and heard the drastic change and her spirits sunk. She sighed disappointedly and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them as she gazed at the girl next to her. "You know, being friends with you is going to be much harder than I first anticipated."

Part Four

Methos rolled over on his bed, twisting his already tangled sheets even more hopelessly. His sleep was once again troubled by the strange dreams that had led him to Sunnydale in the first place. Again he saw images that flashed through his sleep-fogged mind. This time, however, there were faces that went along with them. The first face he saw had the familiar jade green eyes that he had glimpsed before, framed by luxurious, soot-black lashes. He got an impression of a short, slightly spiky haircut, as well as a nose that had an upward tilt at the end. The entire face had an altogether elfish appearance, and Methos heard some part of his mind that could still think in words say that he was a man who could appreciate mischief. He sensed more than saw the strong connection to this man he had, but could not understand where it originated from, or what it meant. Before he could make any more sense if what he had seen, that face disappeared and was replaced by others.

A chessboard overlaid his dreamscape now, and each figure stood in a position in place of a chess piece. A striking couple stood back to back, holding large, impressive looking guns at the ready. The tall blond woman leaned against the back of the expressionless dark-haired man who stood behind her, and they seemed supremely aware of each other. These two stood together in the bishop’s position next to the green-eyed man that he had seen earlier.

Next, he saw two familiar figures, MacLeod and Amanda. They occupied the other bishop’s space, and both stood en guard, swords unsheathed and ready for combat. Both wore long leather coats, and Methos had never seen them looking so dangerous and focused.

Another couple appeared now, this time in the knight’s place. One of the faces he had seen before, and recognized as that of the girl whose death he had come to Sunnydale to investigate. She seemed light-hearted in his dream, as opposed to the others he had seen, who were only serious and grim looking. Standing with her, his hands on her waist as she leaned back against him, his chin resting on her shoulder, was a young man. He wore glasses, and was very intelligent looking, and Methos knew instinctively that their area of expertise was computers and all things technological.

More strangers came into view now, in the other knight’s position. With his long experience, Methos at once recognized that the couple were government employees. With his expensive-looking suit, and her utterly professional business attire, they stood shoulder to shoulder, comfortable with each other’s presence as only those who have given their entire trust to each other can be. The man’s gaze was a little absent-minded, and his lips were pursed in thought, while the woman, who was much shorter than he, looked straight ahead with a tightly focused, slightly challenging air about her.

The next pair was much younger, college age, he estimated. A tall, gangly teenage boy stood slightly behind and a little to the left of the girl with him in the square of the rook. The boy Methos saw, was the young man named Xander he had recently met. He wore a look of determination that seemed out of place on his usually laughing face. The girl who stood with him seemed confident in her abilities, and looked much more capable in a fight than the boy. She also seemed surrounded by nimbus of electricity that Methos could not decipher before once again his attention was diverted.

Again, a familiar couple appeared, more people from Sunnydale this time, filling the last rook’s spot. The short blond girl named Buffy stood with his Teacher’s Aide, Riley. Riley wore some type of combat armor that he seemed very comfortable in. He had lost the slightly puppy-dog image he usually carried about him and seemed coldly efficient now, a perfect soldier. Methos could again see a palpable aura, this time crackles of chaotic energy that he took to be a manifestation of her Slayer powers.

These were the main players that leaped to his attention. Methos was aware that there were others, but they seemed less important somehow. Another legion filled the spaces of the pawns, but their faces were not brought to his attention, and Methos could make out nothing more than a blurry rush of figures who were gone as soon as they appeared. Once he had seen all the major pieces of the chessboard, he was thrust out of sleep suddenly, gasping at the clear memory he had of the surreal dream.

* * *

"I can’t believe Mulder didn’t show," Frohike said, shaking his head as the three of them crossed the street, making their way back to their headquarters.

"I know," Langley contributed. "He seemed eager to come."

"Maybe something came up," Byers put in, completing their strange three-way communication.

"Could have been a case," Langley said, dubiously.

"Scully might have dragged him away."

"He could have been abducted by aliens."

"Or the government."

"Or..."

The paranoid trio abruptly fell silent as they entered their room, aware immediately that someone had been there and gone. Each of them sat down quickly at a computer terminal, fingers flying as they tried to retrieve the file they didn’t have much hope of finding. After several minutes of intense searching, they had given up hope. Whoever had been there had known what they were doing. The hard drive was completely erased, and not even a ghost of the video feed remained.

"The back-up is gone, too," Byers said at last from the bookcase they used to hide their most important disks.

"Great," Frohike said in disgust. "Mulder’s gonna kill us."

"I don’t think so, guys," Langley said from the floor, where he had bent over to pick something up. Without a word, he held up Scully’s FBI badge for the other’s to see. The three of them exchanged somber glances as they realized what had happened. Whoever had taken the file had Mulder and Scully as well, and they were probably in a world of trouble right about now.

* * *

Mulder’s eyes opened groggily, as he tried to focus them, blinking confusedly. When he tried to raise his hands to wipe the grit from his eyes and found them restrained, he snapped fully alert. He had been in this position enough to know he was in trouble, but was strangely reassured that he was tied down sitting upright this time. Usually he was strapped down to a table, and that never turned out good. Maybe this time would end differently. Then again, he thought to himself, looking around at the bleak white walls all around him, and getting a glimpse of the high-tech chair he was strapped to, maybe not.

He was still trying to get himself oriented to his new surroundings, when the door in front of him clanged open with a decidedly medieval sound, bringing scenes of torture chambers to his active imagination. Once the door had swung completely open, he saw a cold-eyed woman standing in the entrance, not moving for a moment, almost as if she were posing. With this observation, Mulder was able to get a hold of his panicked thoughts again. Behind her was another woman, younger, and blond. That one looked seriously pissed, while the first was utterly impassive. Whatever this place was, they would not be able to hold him forever. He and Scully had escaped from worse situations. And they would again, no matter how many intimidating women with calculating, hard eyes tried to stop them.

"Agent Mulder," the dark-haired woman who had entered first said, her voice as frigid as the rest of her. "You’ve been involving yourself in matters that you have no business in."

"Oh, really," Mulder said, his usual sarcasm in place. "Because I was under the impression that pursuing criminal activities was the definition of my business."

Madeline gave him a small smile in response, and he was suddenly made to feel very childish for that remark. He was immediately angry at the instinctive feeling she had evoked in him. He had absolutely no reason to be ashamed. He was the one who was abducted and tied down to a chair here. The second woman leaned casually against the wall, seemingly content to remain silent and simply observe for now. Mulder recognized her as the one who had rescued Krycek on the tape, and he glared at her, while she glared stonily back.

"So, what do you want?" He asked belligerently.

Madeline merely walked calmly around the chair, never taking her eyes off of him. Mulder stubbornly refused to follow her with his eyes, aware that she was just trying to unnerve him by leaving his line of sight. He could not help the slight tick of nervousness that followed from only being able to hear the deliberate click of her heels behind him. At last, she had completed her circuit, and planted herself in front of him, meeting his eyes firmly.

"Fox," she said, smiling inwardly as he opened his mouth to protest the use of his first name. "Let’s cut the games here."

Mulder scowled silently as she cut him off before he could say a word. "I’m not playing games," Mulder said angrily. "In fact, if you just let me and partner go right now, I might consider not having you and your entire operations shut down and all the people here arrested."

Madeline smiled tolerantly, and Mulder gritted his teeth at the condescension he saw in her expression. Why did people always look at him like that? No one took him seriously, Mulder thought to himself, aggrieved.

"You will tell us everything we want to know. Whether it will be with your mind intact or broken will be up to you."

* * *

Scully woke up in slightly more congenial surroundings than her partner did. Instead of being strapped down to a chair, she was laying on a strange sort of ultra-modern bed, dozing comfortably. As she awoke and realized her surroundings, however, she jolted herself awake. Judging from her remaining grogginess, it was likely that she had been drugged, probably with some type of general anesthetic. She spared a moment of worry for Mulder, then pushed her thoughts of distress aside to focus on the figure coming in through the door in front of her. She stood, wanting to prepare for a potential attack, but swayed and had to sit down again.

As Willow saw the FBI agent fall onto the bed, she rushed through the door and to her side, putting an arm around the older woman. "Are you ok?" She asked, concerned.

Scully blinked rapidly, and tried to clear her vision, which had gone blurry on her. She was surprised to see the young girl from the Lone Gunmen’s place bending over her with a worried look on her face.

"I’m fine," Scully said, pushing aside the girl’s helping hands and struggling to sit up on her own. "Where am I?"

"Well...you’re in Section One," the girl said hesitantly. "Oh, by the way, I’m Willow, Agent Scully."

That last was said much more brightly, and Scully was surprised to see a genuinely cheerful expression on the girl’s face. Criminals weren’t supposed to look like that, she thought to herself, still somewhat out of it from the drugs.

"Oh," she said, not sure what else to contribute through the splitting headache that had suddenly developed.

"Um, do you want some aspirin or something? Alex said you’d probably have a headache when you woke up, so I brought some in case you wanted to take some."

Scully weighed the chances that she would be drugged again against the pounding of her skull, and silently held out her hand for the pills. Willow dropped them into her hand with an encouraging smile, and reached for the plastic cup of water sitting on the floor where she had placed it when she walked in.

"Feel better?" Willow asked in a sympathetic voice. "If you’re up to it, I’m supposed to tell you a little bit of what’s going on. I’m sure Madeline would do it, but she’s...otherwise occupied at the moment."

"Occupied doing what?" Scully questioned harshly, thoughts of Mulder once again coming to the front of her mind. "And who’s Madeline? And what is this place anyway? You can’t just kidnap two federal agents and get away with it, you know."

"We didn’t kidnap you! We just...borrowed you for a little while. No one was supposed to be there. You two messed it all up in the first place. Don’t worry though, Madeline won’t really hurt your partner.

Alex wouldn’t like that."

"Alex?" Scully asked, confused for a moment, before remembering Krycek’s first name. "Krycek! That rat bastard!"

"Hey!" Willow said indignantly as her formerly pleasant expression suddenly turned hostile. "Don’t talk about Alex like that! You have no idea how many times he’s saved your lives. And you and your partner just treat him bad whenever he shows up to help. Granted, you thought he was working for a nasty government agency that was trying to help aliens take over the world, but you didn’t even bother to try to find out the truth about him. Now, he’s risking his life again, trying to keep the two of you out of trouble with Madeline and Operations, and all you can do is insult him! Some people are soooo ungrateful."

Scully blinked, taken somewhat aback by the impassioned defense of the man she had always assumed was an irredeemable killer. Looking into the honestly angry expression on the girl’s face, Scully felt the first thread of doubt. Maybe they had been close-minded where Krycek was concerned. Too often, she and Mulder had let their personal anger towards him rule their actions.

"So, explain it to me then," Scully said challengingly. She was satisfied to see Willow lose her poise for a moment as she tried to figure out where exactly to start.

"Well..."

* * *

Mulder looked at the woman standing in front of him with a bemused expression on his face.

"Let me get this straight," he said in a monotone voice that even Madeline found hard to decipher. "You want me to work for you, a secret government organization bent on covering up the truth from the public, and help you take down the Consortium, which, really I don’t have a problem with, but I’m still kind of stuck on the whole working for you thing. What in the world makes you think I’d ever do that?"

"Three reasons, Agent Mulder. Despite your small triumphs in the past, you and Agent Scully alone have no hope of ever defeating the conspiracy you are so determined to fight. Working with us, you would increase the chances greatly of actually accomplishing something in your quest. Also, there is something we have that you have been searching for for a long while. We would be willing to give you access to this in exchange for your cooperation."

"And the third reason?" Mulder asked, pushing her.

"If you don’t agree to work with us, we would have no reason not to cancel you," Madeline said in icy voice that made Mulder shudder despite himself.

"What is the thing you have that I want?" Mulder questioned, after clearing his throat.

"Your sister," Madeline said, dropping that bombshell quite calmly.

"My sister is dead," Mulder denied, his voice lacking conviction.

"Yes, the original girl did die many years ago," Madeline stated calmly, as Mulder shook with revulsion. "As you may be aware, however, many clones were created from her genetic material. Many of these developed defects and were destroyed, and the only remaining Samantha is now with us. She was liberated from a Consortium lab over a decade ago during a mission led by Alexei Krycek. You have him to thank for her life."

"Thank him?!" Mulder scoffed bitterly, his familiar rage for the man surfacing again. "Thank him for betraying me when I had finally grown to trust him? Thank him for killing my father? Thank him for keeping me from the truth time and time again? But, sure, I’ll thank him for kidnapping the clone of my sister right away. Just bring him in here, I’ll thank him to death."

"Maybe you should try finding out a little bit about the situation before you begin to blindly make threats and make yourself look like a fool," the blond woman who had been standing next to the door spoke up for the first time. "You don’t know the first thing about Alex or what he has gone through trying to keep you out of trouble and alive. Every time you see him, though, you take the opportunity to abuse him. Why he always let you beat up on him I’ll never understand."

"Let me? That spineless little rat couldn’t stand up to anyone if his life depended on it."

Nikita reacted faster than thought, and before he had fully registered what had happened, his head had been spun aside by the force of the backhanded slap she had delivered to his face.

"Don’t you talk about Alex like that!" she said, enraged. "You might have gotten away with your abuse outside, but as long as you’re in here, I don’t want to hear one more word about Alex out of your mouth that isn’t complimentary, do you understand?"

Mulder looked at the blond woman incredulously. He felt the beginnings of a bruise forming on his cheek, but couldn’t put his hand on it like he wanted to. He looked over to the dark-haired woman who had seemed to be in charge. She stared back at him impassively. No help there.

* * *

Scully’s interview was going much better for all concerned. Of course, Scully didn’t really have as much of a problem with her temper as Mulder did. Willow had reached the end of her explanation of why they had been brought there, which Scully had listened to attentively and silently.

"So, you mean, all the time we thought Krycek was working for the Consortium, he was really working for you trying to bring them down?" Scully asked.

"Well, not working for me, but yeah, you’ve pretty much got it. So, what do you think?"

"If what you say is true, then we’ve really been working for you the whole time and just didn’t know it. First Deep Throat, then X, and all the mysterious informants Mulder has had have really been Section One operatives. This situation really wouldn’t be that much different, except we wouldn’t be quite as ignorant. Besides, we don’t really have much of a choice, do we?"

"No one here really does," Willow said, trying to make the agent feel better about her lack of options.

"So, you were kidnapped, too?"

"Something like that," Willow said frowning. "I don’t really think about it too much. I’m pretty happy here. They keep me busy, and I’m doing really important work helping people and stuff."

"I need to talk to Mulder about this and make sure he’s alright," Scully said after a moment.

"Um, I’ll go check and see if Madeline and Nikita are done with him yet then," Willow said, getting up and going to the door. "Oh, you’re going to have to stay here for now. They don’t want you wandering around."

Scully nodded wordlessly, and Willow left, tossing one last smile over her shoulder before disappearing from view. Uh oh, she thought, her face falling once she was out of sight. Scully really cared about Mulder. Willow hoped that Madeline and Nikita hadn’t been too hard on him.

Willow got back to her own station at the hub of Section, and ran a search for Mulder. He had been placed in a containment cell. It might have just been the lighting, but one of his cheeks looked distinctly darker than the other, and that was definitely a black eye he was sporting. Nikita’s work most likely. Willow just couldn’t see Madeline loosing her temper like that.

"Hey, pumpkin," Walter said as he walked up to her station. The nickname Alex had given her because of her hair had stuck, and now it was starting to catch on. "Whatcha doing?"

"Just checking on Agent Mulder," Willow said, smiling at the kind old man. "He seems kind of beat up. Should they have done that?"

"Ohhhh, yes," Walter hissed, sounding truly angry for the first time Willow had heard. "That jerk deserves more than that for the way he’s treated Alex for the past years. I know Alex had to do some underhanded things while out in the field, but that’s no excuse for a federal agent to physically abuse someone in his custody."

"He did that?" Willow asked, unsure.

"That and more. He’s the reason Alex lost his arm. If he hadn’t dragged Alex off to Russia on an ill thought out mission, he would still have both his arms. If I could just have five minutes alone with him in a cell, he’d learn the error of his ways."

Willow thought a minute, getting angry with the FBI agent in turn. "Well, I can’t give you that, but maybe we could come up with something," Willow said, grinning mischievously. Walter looked at her questioningly, then smiled himself when he realized what she had in mind. They bent over the computer, whispering to each other conspiratorially.

* * *

Mulder sat against the wall in the small cell the guards had taken him to after that woman was done with him. He was supposed to ‘think about their offer’. Yeah right. Like he would even consider it. He hoped

Scully was all right. Unable to stay still anymore, he climbed to his feet and started pacing the small cell. Just as he was about to reach the far wall, the lights suddenly flickered out, and he was plunged into absolute darkness.

"What the...?" He said, just before he ran smack into the wall in front of him, disoriented by his sudden blindness. Swearing, and rubbing his forehead in annoyance, he started feeling for the wall again with his arms outstretched carefully. When he found it and smiled triumphantly, the lights came back on as suddenly as they had gone out, blinding him with their brightness. As he closed his eyes, wincing, he began to hear the soft, but distinct sound of...running water?

Before he had time to do anything but cringe, a sprinkler system above his head began to run, drenching him within moments. He shook his head disgustedly, wringing out his tie. He waited, hoping that whoever was behind this would end there. This seemed sort of...juvenile for Madeline’s style.

He had hoped too soon, however. As the sprinklers continued to pour down on him, he began to hear music gradually getting louder through speakers built into the wall. At first, he couldn’t make out the music, but as it got louder, his eyes widened in terror. They wouldn’t. No! It was...the Barney theme song! Soon the music was deafening. No one outside the room noticed anything, though, the soundproofing blocking out the sound of the music, and soon afterwards Mulder’s screams.

* * *

Cordelia Chase sat at her desk, typing a report for the latest case that Angel had solved. "Let’s see..." she muttered under her breath, "A...A...A...A! N...N...N..."

A blinding light and pain in her head interrupted her search for the letter N. She cried out and Angel ran in from the office next to her, kneeling next to her and holding onto her arms until the visions passed.

Cordelia closed her eyes, concentrating on the images through the pain. As the haze in the images cleared, she couldn’t believe what she saw. The Powers-That-Be must have their signals crossed somewhere...

For what she saw were flashes of Willow. Willow sitting at a computer screen, concentrating and talking to someone through a headset. Willow hugging a very tall, dark, and handsome man. Willow making faces at another younger man who wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t look so ill...

The flashes stopped as abruptly as they had begun, and Cordelia looked at Angel, who had a cup of water ready, with wide eyes. She took the cup gratefully and sipped the water for a moment, then put the cup down on her desk. Ignoring Angel’s persistent questions about what she had seen, she turned to the telephone, took a deep breath, and dialed a number. Only to hear an insistent ringing without any answer. She groaned and hung up, then dialed another number...only to get no answer. Making a frustrated sound, she slammed down the phone and glared at the appliance hostilely for a moment, then reluctantly picked it up again and dialed yet another number. This time the person on the other side picked up after two rings.

"Hello?" Xander asked groggily.

"Xander, it’s Cordy."

"Ah, Cordelia. To what do I owe this great honor?"

Cordelia paused, then sighed. "Ok Xander...I had a vision. I was going to call Buffy or Giles and tell them, but they’re not home. So...promise not to freak out on me."

"Anything for you, Queen C."

"I...think Willow’s alive."

The shocked look of Angel and the thunk of the phone being dropped on Xander’s end greeted her statement. "Xander? Xander?"

* * *

Scully walked through the corridors of Section One, taking long strides to keep up with the brisk pace the guards escorting her had set. They were finally going to let her see Mulder. Scully was looking forward to that, but she couldn’t help but be distracted by all the people and state-of-the-art equipment around her. She found herself wondering where the funding for a place like this came from. From the look of it, millions, if not billions of dollars had been invested in this operation. Scully almost looked forward to working with such an efficient, well-organized agency. After Mulder’s chaos, it would be a breath of fresh air.

The guards stopped in front of a door, and after exchanged looks that Scully almost thought were shared hostility, one of them opened the door, the other pointing his weapon at it. Funny, Scully thought to herself. They hadn’t done that to me.

Mulder looked up as the door started to open. Seconds before, the sprinklers, music, and everything else had come to an abrupt halt. Looking up, he was met with two very unfriendly looking armed guards.

Scully stepped out from behind one of them, a quizzical expression on her face as she took in Mulder’s bedraggled appearance.

"What happened to you?" Scully asked pointedly.

Mulder resisted the urge to rush to her and hug her. Taking in her perfectly groomed exterior, Mulder felt a brief twinge of resentment that she didn’t have a hair out of place, as usual. Scully’s eyes traveled from his feet to his head, she studied his soaked clothes, and the bruises coming out on his face, and his wild-eyes that spoke of approaching dementia.

"The hospitality here is severely lacking," he said, in a poor imitation of his usual unshakable sarcasm.

"Mulder, what did they do?"

"They...they were playing...Barney!"

"Oh, Mulder," Scully sighed, resisting the urge to laugh at him. "Who did you tick off this time?"

"It seems to be pretty much everybody here. So, Scully, any big escape plans yet?" he asked, as the guards motioned for them start moving, one going to a position in front of them, another falling behind.

"Why do we need to escape?" Scully asked, honestly puzzled. "They’re going to let us go."

Mulder stared at her speechlessly. Scully couldn’t actually be considering... "Yeah, if we agree to work with them!"

Scully couldn’t understand why Mulder would find this so unacceptable. After all, these people were offering them a chance to do what Mulder had been trying to accomplish for nearly a decade. "What other choice do we have? Besides, I thought you would have jumped at the chance."

"There is no way," Mulder growled, "that I am working with anyone who associates with Alex Krycek."

Scully rolled her eyes. "Is that what this is about? For God’s sake Mulder, grow up!"

Just then, their passage through Section was interrupted as an anonymous person apparently lost their balance and fell straight onto Mulder, shoving him hard into a wall. Mulder grunted as he impacted, and looked around angrily for the person who had run into him, but they were nowhere to be seen. He looked at the guards, but they just stared at him blankly and motioned for him to keep walking. Mulder muttered imprecations under his breath.

Scully looked at her partner and worked very hard to keep the smile from forming on her face where he could see it. Apparently Krycek was pretty popular around here. Willow had told her about a few of the things Mulder had done to Krycek while he was supposedly under arrest when she had come to tell Scully she could see Mulder, and while she didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t deny it was very probable. Now, Mulder was apparently getting paid back. With interest.

"Did you see that Scully?" Mulder demanded. "That guy pushed me!"

"Apparently the people here don’t like you much Mulder," Scully said, a quiver in her voice. "They do like Krycek though."

"And you want to work with these people?" Mulder asked incredulously, as another stranger in the hallway ‘accidentally’ bumped into the FBI agent. This time Scully couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. Mulder looked at her with an expression of betrayal, and that just made her giggle harder. "Oh, shut up," he muttered.

Scully wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and looked at Mulder with a mix of exasperation and fondness. "Seriously, though, I think we should work with these people. They have access to information and resources we need if we’re going to get anywhere."

"Maybe," Mulder said reluctantly, this time managing to almost dodge the blow coming at him. Unfortunately, that meant the person aiming for him caught him at an angle, and sent him spinning into the guard, who shoved the off-balance agent off of him, with a muttered, "clumsy fool."

Mulder stumbled, and Scully grabbed his arm steadying him. "Alright, you win, Scully," he said at last. "If you can work with them, so can I, I guess."

"That’s the spirit, Mulder," Scully said, smiling at him. Her expression hardened as she saw yet another agent heading in their direction. Her cold glare and narrowed eyes convinced her that she wouldn’t get a chance to shove the FBI agent today, as Scully decided he had had enough.

"Krycek!" Mulder called as he caught sight of the man standing next to the girl from the Lone Gunmen’s place in what looked to be the center of this place. "Could you get these people to stop assaulting me?"

Alex looked up, surprised when Mulder started talking to him in a somewhat civil manner. What brought this on? He took in the agent’s bruised face, and drenched clothing, as he stalked over to where Alex stood, his shoes making interesting squishing noises.

"Who did that?" Alex asked, indicating the bruises on Mulder’s face, frowning.

"Well, this one was a blond Amazon-type," he said, pointing to his cheekbone. "This was an accident when someone thought it would be funny to turn out all the lights in my cell," pointing at the brand new bruise showing up on his forehead. "And this one", he said, indicating his black eye. "Well, apparently I’m not Madeline’s favorite person."

Alex blinked at that. He had expected Nikita to be a bit...touchy where Mulder was concerned, and he had a few suspicions about the lights concerning a certain systems expert in collusion with the new resident hacker, but Madeline?

"I don’t think I’m ever going to like you, Krycek, but if it’s what’s necessary to take down those old bastards I guess..." Mulder hesitated, glancing at Scully who looked back at him uncompromisingly. "I guess I can work with you."

"Gee, Mulder, that’s really gracious of you."

At that point, Willow noticed Nikita standing nearby, glaring at Agent Mulder, and waved cheerfully at her, hoping to draw her out a bit. Nikita was too preoccupied to pay Willow much mind, however. She stalked up to where the group was standing, looking purposeful. At the sight of the menacing blond woman, Mulder flinched, and moved to stand slightly behind Scully, who looked ready to face the skilled operative down.

"Ooh, catfight," Alex remarked, grinning.

Both women turned to glare at him in synch. He threw up his hands in mock surrender, backing carefully away, as Willow sat chuckling in the background.

"They seem to have reached a conclusion," Operations observed, watching the interaction from the blacked out windows of his office. Madeline nodded. She had already decided the agents would take her up on her offer. Operations reached over to the panel in front of him and activated the speaker system there.

"That will be all," an authoritative voice was heard at Willow’s station, stopping the banter cold. "The FBI agents are dismissed. They will be contacted soon. Alex, see them out. Nikita, my office, now."

Mulder studied the reactions of the others to the voice. Now that he had regained his equilibrium, he found himself observing people again, trying to profile them unconsciously. Nikita rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the snapped order. Scully narrowed her eyes, looking as if this man who would dare to so casually dismiss them had personally challenged her. Willow winced a little, as if this display of temper was familiar, and something to be avoided if possible. Krycek’s expression never wavered, but Mulder noticed that there was a subtle change in his stance. He became stiffer, and his movements were not as fluid as usual as he nodded.

"Understood," Alex said, gesturing to the two FBI agents to follow him. Willow got up to join them, and they made their way to the airlock. Mulder was a little surprised he remained unmolested during this trip, but maybe Krycek’s presence had something to do with that. Mulder watched the other man closely, trying to figure him out. Now that he was finally seeing some genuine reactions from him, maybe he would be able to get a handle on his profile.

"Time for hoods, people," Alex said brightly, smiling at the glares he got in return. "There will be a plane waiting for you nearby. I’ll take you there. But you can’t see where we’re going or where you’ve been."

"What’s the point?" Mulder asked cheekily. "I already know we’re in Lo..."

Willow gasped, and Alex’s hand shot out and covered Mulder’s mouth before he could finish saying the word. "Don’t say it," Alex warned. "If you know where Section One is, there is no leaving. Ever. Only operatives of Section know where it is located. Do you understand?"

Mulder nodded, a little wide-eyed despite himself. He couldn’t really help it. It’s not like he could just turn his mind off. When they had been on the plane he had just automatically noted the factors such as direction, the speed the plane seemed to be going, and the amount of time spent in the air, and his brain had come up with London. Apparently, from Krycek’s reaction, he was onto something.

When Mulder didn’t seem inclined to babble anymore, Alex slowly removed his hand from his mouth. Willow watched, relieved. She was sure the agents didn’t know how close they had come to being permanently recruited at that point. Alex handed them the hoods, and they reluctantly put them on, Willow leading Scully, and Alex leading Mulder.

* * *

"You want me to WHAT?!" Exclaimed Nikita.

Madeline and Operations seemed unaffected by Nikita’s obvious distress. "I want you to allow Willow to move in with you. Although we feel that she is ready to leave Section, she is young to be living by herself, and you have a spare room. It is efficient," Madeline said calmly.

"But…but…I live alone! I don’t want a roommate!"

Madeline simply smiled at Nikita, who immediately shut up. There was nothing creepier than that smile. She turned to go, when Operations called her back. "Nikita?"

"Yes?"

"I expect her to be moved in by tonight. And see that she gets some clothes…her pink sweater has a hole in it."

* * *

A few hours later, a distressed and frantic Willow plopped down in her chair, very near tears. After sniffing pitifully a few times, she turned to her computer screen and began her work. Just then, Alex and Walter walked by. Seeing her face, they became worried.

"Pumpkin? What’s wrong?" Alex asked.

Willow sniffled. "Madeline just told me that she wants me to move in with Nikita," the girl whispered.

Alex was confused. "Don’t you like Nikita?"

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, of course I do, but she doesn’t like me at all!" The girl let out a wail that startled both men and dropped her head onto her computer keyboard.

Alex smiled. "Of course she does," he said, patting her head comfortingly.

"No she doesn’t! Trust me, I know. I spent enough time as a reject of public school society to know when someone doesn’t like me! And even if she did, she wouldn’t like having to be forced into living with me, because it’s her apartment and her space and she’ll feel like she’s baby-sitting and where in the hell is she going to boink Michael now?" The girl wailed.

"How do you know about Nikita and Michael?" Asked Walter, surprised.

That got Willow to raise her head, and she aimed a glare at him. "Oh puh-lease. I may only be nineteen, but I’m not stupid! That whole ‘I’m not going to look you in the eye, I’m going to talk to your ear’ thing? Besides, they have the whole tortured relationship thing going on, like they’re suffering in silence for their love or some other such nonsense. I recognize it, because as far as doomed romances go, I’ve seen the King of them all. Those two don’t hold a candle to relationships with real problems," Willow smiled through her tears, thinking of the mess between Buffy and Angel. It had been a relief when Angel had left and Buffy had started dating a normal guy…well, except for the commando deal.

Alex was still stuck on the ‘boink’ comment. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone use that word before…" he muttered, grinning. Shaking his head, he turned back to Willow, trying to figure out something to say. "Pumpkin, I’m sure Nikita won’t mind you moving in too much. And even if she does, after a few days, you’ll win her over. Who could resist your Willow-y charms?"

Willow looked up, smiling through her near-tears. "Buffy once said almost the exact same thing to me. And I say now what I said to her then-pretty much everybody." Taking a deep breath, she rose from her seat, collecting herself. "But you’re right, it’ll be fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to go visit someone. Goodnight you two."

She left the station with a slight bounce in her step, leaving two semi-confounded men in her wake. She walked down the corridors of Section until she found who she was looking for.

"Nikita," she said calmly.

The blonde turned towards her, staring at her semi-coldly. "Willow. Did you need something?"

Willow paused at the tone in her voice, but then gathered her courage and smiled. "I just wanted to tell you that I’m off now, but I’m going to go somewhere, so I may not be...home...until seven or so. Is that ok?"

Nikita just nodded. Willow smiled once again, then paused and turned back to the older woman. "Nikita?"

"Yes?"

"I’m sorry about all this. I’ll try to be as little trouble as possible." With that, she turned and headed out of Section.

After stopping at a grocery store to pick up a few things up, she pulled out a slip of paper with an address jotted down on it in Alex’s neat handwriting. Finally, she arrived at a small apartment building and let herself in with the key Alex had lent her. Shutting the door of the apartment as quietly as she could, she made her way to the kitchen area, where she put the two brown bags she was carrying on the counter and

paused to take in her surroundings.

The apartment was...empty. It was painted a stark white; the floors were a polished hardwood that lacked any sort of rug or decoration. The windows were stark and bare with no curtains or shades to decorate them. The furniture resembled the ultra-modern essentials that graced the rooms of Section-a black couch, a glass coffee table, and a black floor lamp. There were two doors visible from the living room, which she assumed were the two bedrooms. Alex had warned her that this place was stark, but it hadn’t really sunk in until now how very little he or Birkoff was ever here. The kitchen area was equally empty, with a stove and oven that she was sure had never been used, a microwave, a sink, and a refrigerator, all cold and uninviting.

Willow felt a pang of pity for these two men who had so completely devoted their lives to their job that they had little else-not even a home to come to. And the sad part was that they probably didn’t even realize it. She sighed and pulled a bottle of Gatorade out of one of the bags on the counter and turned, opening the fridge to put it away, but when she saw what the appliance contained, she froze. Opening the freezer she stared with equal incredulity at its contents. The refrigerator and freezer each contained exactly two things. In the freezer, there was a tray of ice cubes and a bottle of very expensive Russian vodka. Willow grinned at that obvious touch of Alex, then studied the contents of the fridge. Yep, still only half a gallon of skim milk and a box of saltines. What were saltines doing in the fridge anyway? As she reached in and pulled out the chilled box, she couldn’t help but smile. Men.

Just then, she heard the click of a gun behind her and she froze. "For goodness’ sake, Birkoff, do you even know how to use that thing?" She asked, exasperated.

She turned around, and sure enough there was a bleary eyed Birkoff standing behind her, gun pointing somewhere over her right shoulder. "Guess that answers that question," she muttered under her breath. "You do realize it’s not even loaded, don’t you?"

The pale-faced young man gazed at her, then lowered the gun. "Of course I did," he said.

Willow grinned. "Uh-huh."

"What are you doing here, Willow?" Birkoff asked, an annoyed tone in his voice.

She reached into one of her paper bags and dug out a can. "Chicken soup," she said simply, as though it explained everything. When all she received was a blank look she added, "Best cure for the common cold.

Granted, you don’t have the common cold, but I’m sure the principle still applies." She continued to unload the groceries from her two bags as Birkoff stared at her incredulously.

"You came here to make me soup?"

Willow shrugged. "I was worried, and Alex didn’t have time. He gave me the keys and I headed over. No big deal. How are you feeling?"

Birkoff groaned. "Like I’ve been hit by a truck."

Willow smiled sympathetically. "I bet. You work too hard. Granted, I know that’s partly my fault, but still, you should take advantage of your down time more."

Birkoff instantly became defensive, and Willow could feel him freeze up. Before he had a chance to say anything, she said, "Don’t mind me. It’s been a long couple of days, and I’m probably babbling without thinking. I’ll just make you soup and go." She opened the fridge and put some more juice in it, then picked up the Saltine box. "What were these doing in the fridge?"

Birkoff paused, then shrugged. "Where else would you put them?"

"In the cupboard, like normal people?" Willow suggested, opening the cupboard and freezing when she saw its contents. A small stack of paper plates and two Styrofoam cups sat on the shelf, gathering dust. She laughed, then pulled them out and set them on the counter. "You’re impossible!" She informed Birkoff.

As he watched Willow continue doing whatever it was that she was doing, Birkoff felt awkward. What was he supposed to do now? "Why has it been an interesting couple of days?" He asked finally, proud of himself for coming up with something to say.

Willow grinned. "Well, first you collapsed, then I had to fill in for you, which happened to include going on my first mission, during which things went slightly wrong and Alex and I had ended up having to bring Mulder and Scully into Section. Meanwhile, I had to drive and I met a new friend who seems to resent the idea of being friends even though she so desperately wants one. And Madeline has ordered me to move in with Nikita. She seems to think I am capable enough to live outside of Section, but feels that living with Nikita would be ‘efficient’."

Birkoff blinked, trying to take all of this in. Ok, deal with one thing at a time. "You’re filling in for me?"

Willow shrugged. "Evidently. I’m not doing anything too complicated, but...yeah."

"Wait...Mulder and Scully are in Section?!"

Willow grinned. "Were. They left. Everyone was so mean to Mulder. Me included, I admit it. Scully’s not that bad though."

The soup finished warming up and Willow poured it into a Styrofoam cup. "That’s your own fault," she said as she handed it to him, then began to clean up. As Birkoff sat sipping his soup, he asked questions and they talked for a good while about the ridiculous events of the past few days. When Willow began to leave, Birkoff felt slightly disappointed.

"You should get some sleep," she said as she walked to the door. "I’ll be back tomorrow."

At that, Birkoff pretended to be annoyed, but inwardly he was happy. As Willow left the apartment, she laughed. That had gone much better than she had hoped. It was turning out to be a not-so-bad day. Now the last thing to tackle. The smile fell from her face as she made her way across London, reaching an apartment building and staring at the intercom for a moment. She pressed the button, and a loud beep sounded out, signaling the opening of the doors. She walked in and headed to Nikita’s apartment. When she reached the door, it opened before she had the chance to knock, and Nikita stood there. After a moment of silence, Willow said the only thing she could think of.

"Hi."

Part Five

Willow stood in the doorway of her new room, a skeptical look on her face. After a moment of studying the bare white walls and the simple bed, she turned to Nikita, who was looming behind her, and said, "You

Section people don’t entertain much, do you?"

Nikita shrugged, still trying not to resent this girl who had been thrust so abruptly into her life. She didn’t understand the preferential treatment Willow was receiving either. Usually operatives were not allowed out of Section for many months, and Willow was being given an apartment outside after a matter of weeks. Nikita was sure Madeleine and Operations had something sinister planned, and was wary about involving herself in it. Alex seemed to have unquestionably accepted the girl, however, and the least she could do was try to make the transition as painless as possible for all concerned.

"Come on, Willow," Nikita said, making a conscious effort to make her voice friendly. "We’re going out."

Willow sat up and stared at her. "What do you mean?"

Nikita reached into her pocket and produced a hunk of cash. "We have to go shopping."

Willow perked up. "For my room?"

"Clothes."

Willow frowned. "I have…some…clothes."

Nikita just stared at her, expressionless. Willow stared back at her, and for a moment they stayed like that. Then Willow burst into laughter and stood. "Let’s go then."

As they headed out of the apartment building and down the London street, Willow wondered to herself, "Where exactly do you shop? Leather-R-Us? DtAC?"

"DtAC?" Nikita questioned dryly, and only then did Willow realize she had been speaking aloud.

The red head blushed a bright red and mumbled, "Death to All Cows."

Nikita stopped and stared at the young girl for a moment, then to Willow’s great surprise she burst into laughter. As Willow watched incredulously, Nikita laughed harder than she had in a long time. "You’re a strange girl," she informed Willow.

* * *

Buffy paced around Giles’ small apartment, talking to Cordelia through the speakerphone in the middle of the room. Giles was standing in a corner listening to the conversation intently, while Xander kept sitting on the counter and then jumping off and pacing around restlessly. Riley simply leaned against of the wall of the room, watching because he didn’t know what to do.

"Cordelia, that’s impossible," Buffy said for the fifth time that evening. "Willow’s dead. We saw the store blow up!"

"But did you ever see her body?" Cordelia’s voice pointed out.

"The remains were too burned to positively identify. They had to use her dental records!"

"Which could have been faked," interrupted Angel’s voice.

"Why would anyone bother?" Yelled Buffy.

"I don’t know!" Cordelia yelled back. "But I know what I saw. I saw Willow. Alive."

"Well, if she’s alive, we have to find her!" Pointed out Xander. "She might be in danger."

"Well…she looked kinda happy to me."

"Yeah. Right. If this is true, she’s been forcibly taken away from her friends. I’m sure she’s having the time of her life," said Xander.

"But you’re saying she looked alright?" Giles asked, cutting in himself. "She wasn’t injured or restrained in any way?"

"No. She was working at a computer and hugging a really hot guy, smiling at another…she was happy."

"The last few weeks before she died, I didn’t really see much of her. But from the little I remember, she seemed very preoccupied with something."

"She said that she had found something interesting on the computer that was keeping her busy," Xander informed his friends.

"Maybe she got too close to something big. Willow couldn’t have known exactly what she was tracking until it was too late."

"And some weird agency abducted her?" Buffy said skeptically. "This is sounding out there, even for us."

"Xander’s right. If there’s any chance that Willow could be alive, we have to try and find her," said Angel from the phone. "We’ll work out here, and you start poking around there. Find someone to go through her

computer, maybe find a trail she left that might clue us in as to what her little project actually involved."

* * *

Nikita tossed yet another leather coat over the door to the dressing room Willow stood in. "Here, try this," the blond said.

Willow paled slightly. "Nikita…I’ve already tried on three leather jackets."

"But this one’s the right size," Nikita said reasonably.

"Oh," Willow said skeptically, looking at the tight-looking jacket. "I guess that makes sense…"

She pulled on the coat, then studied herself in the mirror doubtfully. "I don’t think leather is really my style, Nikita."

"That’s the point."

Nikita tossed a handful of shirts over the door. "Try these."

Willow sorted through the new items, absently pushing her newly trimmed hair out of her eyes. Her hair was again about the length it had been her senior year of high school, which was a relief considering how much she had hated the short haircut. Nikita’s choice of clothes included several tube and tank tops, leather jackets, skirts, and pants, and a lot of black. Willow sighed and took off the jacket, pulling on a black tank top that laced all the way up the back. "Um…Nikita…this doesn’t have a back."

"I know. Come out, let me see it with the pants I picked out."

Willow had some trouble putting on the tight leather pants, but finally managed to pull them up. She regarded her reflection in the mirror yet again before shaking her head. "No. Nope. Not gonna happen. I’m not coming out of this room. I look ridiculous."

Nikita sighed and rolled her eyes. "Stop being such a baby."

"I am not being a baby!" Willow said indignantly. Reluctantly, she opened the door to the dressing room, glaring at Nikita for putting her in this situation. The last time she had looked like this, she was impersonating the evil, psychotic, vampire version of herself from another dimension, and she really didn’t want to relive that experience. Besides, she really did look silly in this get-up.

Nikita’s eyes lit up when she caught sight of Willow. The girl looked amazing. Leather was definitely her. She couldn’t wait to see Birkoff’s expression when he saw this.

"Perfect!" Nikita exclaimed, ignoring Willow’s less than enthusiastic expression. "We’re definitely getting that outfit. Now, just a couple more hours, and we should have enough to last you for awhile."

Two hours later, the two new friends walked out of the store weighted down with bags and boxes. Although Willow still had many reservations about most of the items they had purchased, Nikita’s enthusiasm was contagious and the guy who had tried to pick her up while she was modeling one of the outfits for Nikita hadn’t hurt her confidence level.

They turned the corner and entered another store that Nikita assured her would have good things to decorate her bedroom with. They were quickly becoming good friends, and Nikita seemed to have accepted her as a little sister type figure, saying that she was going to make Willow train and learn how to fight. Willow mentioned that Alex had offered the same and Nikita grinned, declaring that between the two of them she’d be as good as a Level Three Field Agent in no time. If Willow were anyone else, she would have been daunted by what lay ahead of her…

* * *

Methos was once again taking a midnight stroll through the streets of Sunnydale. He found that something about this place let him think, and considering the information he had obtained from the police database only a few hours before, he had plenty to think about.

He had hacked into the files concerning the death of the girl Willow Rosenburg. What he found had disturbed him. The case had been investigated to the very limits of what the city’s meager police force could handle, and the results had been recorded. All of the evidence pointed to a simple gas leak that had ignited and caused the building to blow up. Simple and clean-cut. But maybe that was what was bothering him about it…it seemed almost too easy.

Just then, he was forced to stop his fast pace as he found himself facing three very large vampires. He smiled. "I don’t want any trouble," he said to the stupid creatures in a pacifying voice.

"Well, it seems you’ve got some," one of the thugs growled, smirking.

"If you say so," Methos replied, drawing his sword. The vampires started in surprise, and the leader spared a moment to wonder where the sword had been hidden, before he shrugged off the thought, and motioned his gang to attack. They predictably all went straight for the throat, and Methos laughed, dodging their feeble attempts as he swung the sword in an easy back-handed gesture, circling around the two remaining vampires as the third exploded into dust.

"Hey," one said, surprised. "How’d you do that?"

"Like this," Methos replied, and poof, the vampire was gone.

Methos turned and faced the leader of the group, who was staring at him, wide-eyed. After a moment, the vampire turned and ran back the way he had come, tripping over his own feet. Methos smirked for a moment, then put his sword back with a flourish. He turned suddenly, sure that he had heard a sound, but saw no one and after a moment of studying the terrain of the alley, shrugged and kept walking, resuming his musings about the death of the girl.

Xander huddled in the corner of the alley, ignoring the stench of the trashcans he was surrounded by, and watched the man he knew as Professor Pierson walk away. He had been on his way home from work, armed with holy water squirt guns and a very large cross, when he had seen the scene between the professor and the three vampires. How had he known how to kill them? Why did he carry around a sword? The ease with which he had decapitated the vampires also worried Xander. He came to a decision and stood, heading for Giles’ apartment.

* * *

Alex opened the door to the apartment he shared with Birkoff, closing it behind him with a weary sigh. It had been over a week since he had been in the area, and as much as he would have liked to be there to help take care of Birkoff, Madeline had sent him on an operation in Moscow. Because of his fluent Russian, it had been easy to insert him into what remained of the KGB, and from there, to the Russian counterparts of the conspiracy that was centered in the Western Hemisphere.

He had rushed the job a bit, and he was sure Madeline would have words with him about that later, but he had achieved all of his objectives, and had taken only one week out of the two that had been projected for the assignment. He had been debriefed by Operations, and he was impatient enough to have been pleased by the rush job. Alex knew that when Madeline got her claws into him, however, he would regret having been in such a hurry.

Walking from the front hall into the living room, he had a bit of a shock. He was tempted to go back out into the hallway to check the number again, because the apartment had certainly changed a lot. There was…color. The plain, utilitarian couch had several, attractive, bright colored blankets thrown over the back, along with matching pillows. There were bright rugs scattered over the plain wood floors, and several of the previously blank walls had cheerful art prints hanging on them.

Dropping his bag on a table by the couch, he headed into the kitchen, wondering what surprises he would find there. The first thing he noticed was that all the walls had been painted. They were a light green shade, and he noticed absently that it went very well with the austere black appliances that had been provided by Section when he had moved into this place. He opened the refrigerator and did a double take. There was…food. In his refrigerator.

"I didn’t even know Birkoff knew how to shop," Alex muttered under his breath, bemused.

"I don’t," Birkoff’s voice said groggily from the doorway.

"Hi," Alex said, his face lighting up. "How are you feeling? And what are you doing out of bed?"

"I’m much better," Birkoff said plaintively, wincing at the stern tone Alex had taken at the end of his greeting. "I’m tired of lying in bed all day. Willow won’t even let me near a computer."

Alex couldn’t help but smile at the younger man. Birkoff probably had no idea how close he had come to a whine there. "The vacation is probably good for you."

"Yeah, that’s what she says," he muttered resentfully.

"Want some orange juice?"

"God no," Birkoff said with a shudder. "That and chicken soup are all that she lets me have. That girl is a tyrant, I’m telling you! She said I wasn’t eating right, so she asked Madeline for some money. Apparently Madeline agreed, because she gave Willow access to a bank account. Ever since, every time she’s come over, she’s brought something new to leave over here. I can barely even recognize the place anymore! She’s changing everything around. It used to be nice and simple. Look! Look at this!"

Alex watched his young friend rant and move about the apartment frantically. He definitely had a fever. This was over the top, even for the excitable Birkoff.

"See this vase!?"

"I see it," Alex said, confused. "What exactly is wrong with the vase?"

"It serves no purpose! All it does is sit there!"

"Um…I think that’s what vases usually do."

"Exactly!" Birkoff said, pouncing on this statement. "That’s why we didn’t have any. They don’t do anything. They’re not good for anything. There is absolutely no reason whatsoever to have one, and now all of a sudden, we do! What has happened?"

"I think you need to calm down, and get back into bed," Alex said placatingly. "I’m sure the vase will be less offensive in the morning."

"You don’t understand," Birkoff said, crestfallen. "You haven’t been stuck with a cheery, optimistic, infuriating red-head as your only company for a whole week. You don’t know what I’ve been through."

"Get some rest, Brat. I kind of like the new apartment."

"Not you too," Birkoff groaned, as he crawled into bed. Alex tucked the covers around him, then sat on the edge of the bed. "So, how’d the mission go?"

"Not so bad," Alex said, recognizing the change of subject, but willing to indulge him. "No one really has any idea what my allegiances are on the outside, so I can play them all off of each other with relative ease. So…what do you really think of Willow?"

Birkoff opened his mouth to answer that with another indignant comment, but just then they were interrupted by the sound of the apartment door opening. Immediately, Alex had a gun out, and was moving to the door, ready for an attack on the two of them.

"Birkoff!" The cheerful voice of Willow could be heard from the doorway. "I brought you some fresh juice!"

Alex put the gun away, as Birkoff rolled his eyes. He moved out into the living room, leaving Birkoff tucked in bed. At the sight of Willow, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Pumpkin?" Alex was lost, not sure if this was the same girl he left a week ago, or if she had somehow been replaced by a clone or some other plot.

Willow squealed, and raced over to Alex, throwing her arms around him in an exuberant hug. He awkwardly patted her back, not sure how to deal with this. He finally got control of the situation, and held her back away from him at arm’s length. "What are you wearing?"

"Oh, this," Willow said, making a face. "Nikita picked it out. Isn’t it dumb? I look ridiculous."

"No," Alex protested. "You look great. The leather’s a nice look for you."

Birkoff, still lying in the other room, straining to hear the conversation, raised his eyebrows at this comment. Leather?

"Well, I feel silly," Willow said plaintively.

"I’ve told you a thousand times, you don’t look silly," Nikita said, coming through the door. "I’ve told her this so many times even I’m tired of hearing it, but she just won’t listen. The girl’s had them for a week, but it’s taken me this long to even get her to wear them out of her room. We thought a trip over here would be good for a trial run. Plus, Willow insisted Birkoff needed more juice."

"It’s fresh squeezed," Willow said defensively. "He’s probably drunk all of the juice I brought him last time."

She opened the door to the refrigerator, and her eyebrows snapped together at the sight of a half-drunk bottle of orange juice sitting on the shelf. She calmly set the new bottle of juice on the shelf, and shut the door just a little bit too hard. It still made Alex wince inwardly, as she turned towards the room where Birkoff was lying. Oh boy.

Birkoff sat up on the bed, knowing as soon as he heard the door to the fridge opening that he was in trouble. Sure, she had told him to drink the whole thing, and that it was good for him, but he just…hadn’t been thirsty. Willow stormed through the door to his bedroom, and immediately began telling him in no uncertain terms why exactly he had been supposed to drink the juice, what he was doing to his health by ignoring her, and how exactly that made her feel. Birkoff didn’t hear a word of it, however. As soon as he caught sight of her, he was mesmerized.

He had never seen her look so…incredible. She was wearing skin-tight, black leather pants that hugged her hips. Above that was a low cut, shiny green shirt that brought out her eyes, and somehow made the red color of her hair more intense. She was wearing a small, delicate silver necklace that had a star design on it, with matching silver bracelets. She was wearing some kind of make-up that was understated, yet managed to make her seem luminescent. Her hair was feathered around her face, not pulled back into the rough ponytail she usually adopted when coming over to his place.

Finally, the dumb-founded, blank expression on Birkoff’s face penetrated Willow’s rant, and she fell silent, puzzled. Usually he was much more attentive while she was telling him off. He must have a fever, she thought, abruptly switching gears from angry to concerned. She rushed over to his side, putting her hand on his forehead, asking him if he was all right, and how did he feel? All Birkoff could do was stare at her, incoherent.

"Drink this," she said, pressing a glass of juice into his hand. Never taking his eyes off of her, he absent-mindedly drained the glass, handing it back to her wordlessly. Willow smiled encouragingly at him, and patted him on the head. "Now get some rest. I’m sure you’re worn out."

Birkoff nodded numbly, and obeyed. Willow watched as he lay back down again, and closed his eyes. As soon as she turned her back to walk out of the room, though, his eyes popped back open, and he watched her leave. Nikita and Alex, who had been watching the scene from the doorway, jumped away quickly when it looked like Willow was coming back out again. They looked at each other, and at the eye contact, immediately started giggling. Poor kids, they thought, shaking their heads and laughing. They had no idea what they were getting into.

* * *

The three men stared at Mulder and Scully as the pair finished telling them what had happened to them when they hadn’t shown up for dinner. They had a rational explanation for everything that had alarmed the Gunmen, and were almost convincing. The three had too much practice at being paranoid, however, and exchanged glances once Mulder had finished his story of a case that came up unexpectedly and they had to leave town on short notice. When confronted with her badge that she had dropped, Scully came up with some lame excuse that had neither Frohike, Byers, nor Langley fooled.

"…And then we caught a plane back to D.C. and came to see you guys as soon as we landed. We’re sorry we didn’t get a hold of you to let you know about the change of plans, but we were really busy with the case," Mulder said, looking at the men out of the corner of his eye to see if they were buying it.

Mulder felt pretty bad about deceiving his friends, but Krycek had made it very clear what would happen to anyone who found out about where they had been. Mulder and Scully had actually got back to Washington a few days ago, but it had taken them this long to make up a believable story about where they had been. He had even used the cell-phone Willow had given to Scully to contact Krycek and ask for some documentation to make their story more believable. He knew that the paranoid men would be checking their background for plane tickets and such to see if they were telling the truth, and Mulder wanted to protect them from this particular truth.

"So…you guys just went on a case?" Langley asked, wanting to make things absolutely clear.

"Yes," Mulder confirmed, somewhat nervously.

"And…you weren’t abducted by a shadowy government agency?"

"No," Scully said, much more firm and convincing than her partner.

"And...the fact that our computer was raided the same night as you went missing and all of our evidence was stolen was just a coincidence?"

"That’s right."

The three men exchanged glances again, while Mulder and Scully sat, uncomfortably aware that Krycek was monitoring every word of this conversation.

"Just checking," Frohike said, finally, in a casual tone of voice.

* * *

The Scooby gang sat around Giles’ apartment, all silent and deep in thought. "So, we have a professor who is not exactly just a professor," said Giles.

"Yes," Xander confirmed.

"And a girl who may or may not be dead."

"Right."

"And Adam."

"Actually," Buffy said. "He seems to have disappeared. He’s either being way too quiet or he’s moved on."

"Neither possibility is very comforting," Riley pointed out.

"But he’s not our top priority right now," Buffy insisted. "Willow is, or at least might be. Followed by the possible threat of this professor guy who fights with a sword."

"A sword?" A voice questioned from the door. They all turned and glared at the blond vampire who stood there.

"Spike! What are you doing here?" Giles asked.

Spike shrugged. "I was bored. I thought an episode of the petty trials of the Slayer and her minions might cheer me up. So, you say this bloke fought with a sword?"

"Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah," Xander said. "About a week ago, he decapitated two vampires and sent the third running."

Spike grinned. "Decapitated, huh?" He sat down on the couch and ignoring the glares, stretched out. "Sounds like an Immortal to me."

* * *

Willow punched and kicked the bag in front of her with all she had, sweat trickling down her back. Loud rock music was playing from the stereo system nearby, and it helped her keep the rhythm of the exercises Alex and Nikita had created for her. She was really starting to regret being on Nikita’s good side. It had been two weeks since they had become friends, and the very next day Nikita had gotten together with Alex and created one of the most demanding exercise routines they could come up with, making her practice several hours a day, supervising at least an hour or two. Although she could already see the progress she was making, it was hard work.

The music ended and Willow finished her last roundhouse kick with a flourish, breathing a sigh of relief. Shaking her muscles out, she walked across the small room and picked up a towel and a thermos, guzzling the water in the container and mopping the sweat off her forehead. She turned into the shower rooms and emerged half an hour later, feeling much better. As she walked down the hallway, she heard a voice from behind her call out, "Maybe there is some hope for you after all. Those exercises are starting to pay off."

"Yeah, well, with Alex and Nikita as my personal trainers, I was bound to improve," Willow said, turning to meet Samantha with a grin. "So, what are you doing this afternoon? I had some free time, and I was looking for something to do. Wanna hang out?"

"I don’t have any assignments at the moment," Samantha said in a somewhat confused voice. "I have some Sims I really should work through, but nothing urgent. What do you mean…hang out?"

Willow rolled her eyes. "Go out. Maybe walk around, grab something to eat, go shopping. Talk. That sort of thing. I have to drop by Birkoff and Alex’s place later, but you can come along."

"What’s the point?" Samantha asked, genuinely trying to understand this strange girl. "I mean, how would this improve us or accomplish anything useful?"

Willow sighed, then walked over to the girl and explained patiently, "It doesn’t. It’s just…fun. Don’t you ever have fun?"

"Successfully completing a mission I have been assigned is fun I guess," Samantha said doubtfully. "I like it when I do a good job and Madeline is pleased with me."

"You need a hobby. Not to mention a new role model. Come on," Willow said, grabbing the other girl’s hand. Samantha allowed herself to be dragged out of Section and into downtown London, wondering what this odd girl was going to do next. Willow paused and looked around admiringly. "London is a cool place. There’s all sorts of stuff to do here. Haven’t you ever explored the city?"

"No, I’ve never been on a mission here."

Willow made an exasperated sound in the back of her throat, then smiled. "That’s not what I meant."

"I do understand that other people do things for fun, you know," Samantha said, starting to get a bit irritated. "I just don’t know what you think that has to do with me. Section is my life. I don’t need anything else."

"You’re an eighteen year old girl. Of course you need more than Section. You just don’t think you do."

For the rest of the afternoon Willow attempted to show Samantha exactly what she had been missing in the real world. After buying a disposable camera from a corner drug store, she took Samantha to the Tower of London, but Samantha remained unimpressed by its history.

"Our methods of information extraction are more efficient," Samantha commented.

"It was a hundred years ago, Sam. They didn’t have Madeline’s creepy little toys back then. Ooh, hot dogs on a stick!"

Willow ran to a vendor and purchased two hot dogs from the man there then ran back to Samantha. "Here, eat this," she said, handing one to her.

"What’s it made of?" Samantha asked, looking at the hot dog, and handling it warily.

"No one knows!" Willow said cheerfully.

"Then why are you eating it?" She asked, appalled.

"It’s good. I like them. Go on, eat it."

Seeing that Willow was having no immediate reaction to the food, Samantha carefully took a small bite. Finding that she actually kind of liked it, she attempted a larger one. "It’s not too bad," she admitted reluctantly.

Willow grinned triumphantly, then offered her a small paper cup filled with a strange red paste-like substance. "Ketchup?"

"No thanks," Samantha said, not wanting to push her luck. "I’m fine like this."

They finished their hot dogs and headed down the street, arriving just in time to catch a double-decker bus that was heading across town. Willow dragged Samantha onto the vehicle and up to the top level, pointing out all the different historical sites, and when they finally got off, they were close to Big Ben, so they took a detour to see the clock.

"That’s a big clock," Willow said as she stared up at it.

"It’s a very inefficient design," Samantha said disapprovingly. "They should tear it down and build a new one."

An elderly woman who was a native to London and took its history very seriously happened to hear her comment. Stalking over to where the girls were still standing gazing up at the clock, she whacked Samantha on the arm with her bag of oranges.

"Ow!" Samantha yelled, startled. She stopped herself from striking out just in time, and just stood there staring at the short, fuming old woman.

"You young people never take history seriously!" She proceeded to holler at her. "Think you can do better, huh?! That clock has been standing for centuries, and you want to tear it down for something more ‘efficient’? Just another example of the downfall of our society! No one’s in touch with their roots anymore. What about the beauty of the design, huh? What about that? Not to mention all the aspects of life in this city that clock has witnessed."

"It’s an inanimate object," Samantha cut in sullenly. "It can’t witness anything."

"Don’t interrupt your elders!" The irate woman said, whacking Samantha with her bag again. This time Willow was more prepared, and snapped off a quick picture, catching it on film. Fortunately, they were both too absorbed in each other to notice. Willow didn’t even want to know how Samantha would have reacted to that. Probably snatched the camera from her and yanked out all the film, Willow mused.

"And furthermore," the woman continued her lecture, "I think you should show a little more respect to those who are older than you young lady! Your manners are appalling! What were you, raised in a barn?"

Samantha was tempted to point out that she had in actuality been raised by a secret anti-terrorist organization that would stop at nothing to achieve its goals, but squashed the impulse, blaming it on Willow’s influence.

Finally, the woman got tired of her tirade, and with a final shouted comment that was unintelligible, but sounded bad, stalked off, muttering to herself. Samantha stood there, and Willow thought she looked somewhat in shock. Not sure exactly what she had done to deserve that, Samantha was just standing there trying to figure out what had just happened, when a sound intruded into her thoughts. Looking over at Willow, she saw that the girl had her hand over her mouth and was trying to stifle her giggles.

"That wasn’t funny!" Samantha said indignantly, trying to hide a grin herself.

Willow gave up and burst into giggles. "Are you kidding? It was hilarious! Big, bad Section agent Samantha was just assaulted by a little old lady! You should have seen your face!"

"Oh really," Samantha said, a dangerous gleam appearing in her eye as she began to stalk towards Willow. "Thought that was funny, did you?"

Willow’s eyes widened a bit, but she remained where she was. "You know Samantha, attacking your friends isn’t going to make you very popular."

"Ah, but I got into your file, I know all of your weaknesses. For example, if you touch your sides and apply a certain type of pressure, I hear it evokes the most interesting response."

Now Willow looked a little panicked. "You’re threatening to tickle me! You…you…not nice person!"

"Hey, it seemed like you were having a good time laughing just a second ago," Samantha said, suddenly dashing towards Willow.

Willow let out a squeal and jumped back, turning around and sprinting towards Birkoff’s apartment, Samantha close behind. They ran three blocks and up two flights of stairs into the apartment, Willow slamming open the door and bolting into the living room. "BIRKOFF!" She screamed. "HELP!"

Birkoff came out of his room, rubbing his eyes. Willow saw him and darted behind him, clutching his shoulders tightly as Samantha followed her into the room and headed straight for her. As Birkoff watched, confused, Samantha chased Willow around the room, both of them laughing. Samantha finally caught up with Willow somewhere around the couch and they both fell onto the piece of furniture in a flurry of moving hands and high pitched squeals. Five minutes later, they seemed to wind down, both stopping and sitting up, laughing as they tried to get their breath back.

"Well what do you know, the infallible Section agent is ticklish too!" Willow exclaimed.

"Am not!" Samantha denied emphatically.

Willow’s hand shot out and tickled her side and Samantha burst into another round of giggles. "Yeah. Sure you’re not."

Birkoff watched this scene with wide eyes, not sure if this was reality, or some hallucination brought on by a new fever. Samantha finally seemed to register his presence and stopped laughing abruptly, straightening up on the couch, and looking uncomfortable about her display of childishness.

Willow realized what had happened and sighed, standing up and walking over to Birkoff, looking at him tenderly. "How are you feeling?"

Birkoff was still dazed and the fact that she was dressed in one of her new outfits didn’t help matters. The black tank top she had on didn’t appear to have a back besides the strings that criss-crossed each other, and her black drawstring pants hung low on her hips revealing a strip of skin. "Um…much better," he finally managed to choke out. He was rewarded with a grin.

"Good. You’ll be glad to know that you’re not having chicken soup for dinner. I’m gonna make macaroni and cheese for the three of us. Oh, Birkoff, do you know Samantha?"

"Sort of. Hi," he greeted the girl.

"Hello," she responded somewhat coldly. "It’s nice to meet you."

Birkoff regarded her outstretched hand, then took it. They exchanged an impersonal handshake, then neither seemed sure what to do with themselves. Willow watched the exchange and then rolled her eyes. "You two are hopeless. Do you ever act like normal people?"

"What’s normal?" Birkoff asked expressionlessly.

Willow opened her mouth to respond, then shut it when she thought of what she and her old friends from Sunnydale had been involved in. Well, maybe that wasn’t such a good example. She finally settled for saying, "Well, not this."

"That clears it right up, thanks," Birkoff said snarkily.

"What’s macaroni and cheese?" Samantha asked curiously.

"My God," was Willow’s only answer.

Twenty minutes later, Willow, Birkoff, and Samantha all sat around the kitchen table with bowls of homemade macaroni and cheese in front of them. Willow dug in with her fork, sighing contentedly when the yellowish pasta substance entered her mouth. "I’ve missed this stuff to no end," she explained as she continued eating.

Birkoff and Samantha exchanged looks, but neither were willing to have Willow mad at them, so they caught a couple of noodles up onto their forks and ate them slowly. For a couple of seconds they chewed slowly, but Samantha found that she actually liked the way this stuff tasted too. For his part, Birkoff was so relieved to actually be eating solid food that he didn’t really even care what it tasted like.

They emptied the entire pot of pasta, both Samantha and Birkoff having seconds. Willow was pleased with them and she was even happier when they managed to sit around the table and have a half-normal conversation. But half an hour later, Birkoff’s eyes were drooping and Samantha was loosing interest. Willow sighed, then took Birkoff by the hand and led him to his room, tucking him into bed and sitting next to him. "You’ve been drinking your juice."

"After what happened last time, I didn’t dare not to," he said. She smiled.

"’Night Birkoff," she said, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Sleep well."

She stood and left, a wide-eyed Birkoff behind her.

Part Six

Willow lit the candle in front of her and couldn’t help but smile when the familiarity of the action sunk in. Between her duties at Section and Nikita and Alex’s training sessions, she hadn’t had time to keep up with Wicca, but it was Samhain, so she had made a special effort to get all the essentials for a basic ceremony, not wanting to lose touch with the religion.

She bowed before the white and black candles and then settled back onto her knees. After casting the circle and acknowledging the guardians of each compass point, she began the chant she had prepared for the occasion.

The words flowed out of her faster and faster, and before she knew what was happening, the flames on the candles had grown and the lights had gone out. She stopped chanting, but the power in the room remained.

Using it, she reached out with her mind and picked up several of the objects around the room-a book, a dirty shirt, and a pillow, making them fly around the small space.

Nikita entered her apartment, expecting to find Willow sitting in the living room studying one of the manuals from Section, or another Russian language text from Alex, as she usually did at this hour. Instead, as Nikita reached out and flicked the switch for the light, nothing happened. Something must have happened to short the electricity out, she reasoned. Seeing a flickering light emanating from Willow’s room, she headed in that direction, figuring that with the power out, Willow would have lit some candles.

Nikita opened the door to Willow’s room, then after only a moment, shut it again, eyes wide. Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, she re-opened the door only to see exactly what she had seen before-Willow laughing as a shirt, a pillow, and a book flew across the room. Not knowing what to do, she cleared her throat. Willow jumped, startled, and the items dropped onto the floor abruptly. "Nikita!" The young girl exclaimed. "What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on for another hour!"

"Finished early," Nikita replied, slightly dazed. "Do you mind if I ask what you’re doing?"

"Um…I’m not sure you’d believe me," Willow answered hesitantly.

"Willow, I just saw inanimate objects fly around by themselves. Now is probably the best time to get me to listen to weird stuff."

Willow nodded. "Wait a sec, let me finish up."

As Nikita watched, Willow bowed to the candles in front of her and said a few words. When she was finished, the candles put out themselves and the light flickered back on. Willow stood, then took Nikita’s hand and led her to the bed, sitting on it. "Well…" she started slowly, "I was celebrating. It’s a holiday."

"Halloween?"

Willow rolled her eyes. "Yeah right. No, Samhain. It’s a Wiccan holiday."

"Huh?"

"I’m a Witch."

"I see."

"Is this going to be a problem with Section? I didn’t tell anyone because I wasn’t sure how you guys would take it. I mean, the people there don’t seem all that open-minded about stuff like that."

"In the first place, I don’t think you’re ever going to find a place more open-minded than Section where it comes to your personal life. As long as it doesn’t affect your efficiency level or anyone else’s you can pretty much do anything you want. In the second, I wouldn’t assume that Madeline and Operations don’t already know about it. They’re like that."

"True. So it shouldn’t be a problem with them. But what about you?"

"Well, it was kind of a shock. I never thought any of that stuff was actually for real. I try never to be ruled by prejudice, but this is a little much. Maybe if I knew a little more about what you’re doing here?"

Willow took a deep breath, then proceeded to give Nikita a crash-course in Wicca. Half an hour later, Nikita still sat on the bed, a slightly dumbfounded look on her face. Then a grin slowly spread over her face. "So…you can cast spells on other people? Like love spells? Because there are these two people in COMM that would be so cute together…" She stopped when she noticed Willow’s head shaking emphatically.

"Oh no! No, no, no! I don’t go near love spells. They’re very dangerous things. They never turn out the way you want them to. Like this one time with Xander…well, it was a mess. Ended badly for all involved. And it took us forever to find Buffy so we could de-rat her."

"What…never mind. I don’t think I really want to know."

Willow grinned. "That’s one thing I feel really guilty about leaving behind. Amy’s still a rat." At Nikita’s slightly frightened look, she attempted to reassure her friend. "Oh, I didn’t do it! She did it to herself, to get away from the mob that was trying to burn us at the stake…but you probably don’t want to know about that either."

"I think I’ve heard enough for one night. I really need to get some sleep and try to absorb all of this. It kind of caught me off guard here."

"Probably. Good night."

Nikita nodded and stood, going out the door. A minute later, her head poked back into the room. "Wait…did you say burned at the stake?"

* * *

MacLeod hung up the phone a little harder than necessary, cursing softly in Gaelic under his breath. Glaring at Amanda, who sat nearby at his computer, he stalked over to her.

"This is a useless waste of time!" MacLeod growled.

"Oh come on, MacLeod," Amanda wheedled. "It’s a mystery. Don’t you think it’s kind of exciting?"

"We’ve been trying to track down Methos most recent hiding place for the past three months with no sign of him! You’ve got to face it Amanda, he’s too sneaky. We won’t find him until he’s ready to be found."

"I refuse to accept that. I’ve been bored the past year. I need an adventure to keep me occupied since you won’t let me steal anymore. That’s a real joy-kill by the way."

"I don’t see why you’re letting this weird thing you found absorb you like this. What’s the point, anyway?"

"I don’t know! I just know that it’s important. This is something that I have to do."

"I just don’t see why," MacLeod insisted stubbornly.

"Look at it this way. Methos vanishes without a word to anyone. Now, I know that isn’t anything to get upset about by itself, but we’ve also got someone who looks exactly like Cory Raines running around, who apparently works for some kind of government organization that arrests terrorists. Now, come on MacLeod, where’s your sense of adventure?"

"I still haven’t recovered from the last ‘adventure’ you dragged me on."

"You’re no fun anymore," Amanda returned, pouting at him. "Maybe I should go find someone else who’ll help me investigate this."

"Oh no you don’t," MacLeod responded, sweeping Amanda up and into his arms when she tried to head for the door. "You’re not going anywhere."

Amanda squealed with delight, leaning into MacLeod’s chest and laughing. In truth, MacLeod really did want to know what was going on, and what the device Amanda had stolen from the Cory look-alike meant.

He was just frustrated. Trying to find Methos when he didn’t want to be found was like trying to track a pigeon through New York City at rush hour.

* * *

Mulder and Scully sat in their basement office, Scully filling out the paperwork for their last case, and Mulder sorting through files from past X-File cases. A distinctive ring from Scully’s jacket caused them both to look at each other with unreadable expressions. The cell-phone that Krycek had provided them with had only rung a few times. Once to explain what measures Section had taken to ensure no one found out they had been at Section, and twice Krycek had called to provide them with information about members of the Consortium in place in the government. Mulder never questioned the evidence he was given, it was always irrefutable, and for the first time in his career in the X-Files, he was actually accomplishing something solid.

Skinner had questioned them about their new source, but Mulder just said that he was anonymous and left it at that. For now, Skinner was willing to leave it at that, but Mulder knew he was dying to know where Mulder was getting his information. Sometimes, Mulder was tempted to tell him just to see the look on his face, but Scully would have killed him. Not to mention how Section would have reacted.

Scully flipped open the phone, and answered it with a neutral tone of voice.

"Scully."

"Agent Scully, I have more information for you," Krycek’s voice said into her ear. From the way Scully described these conversations, Krycek was always all business during the interactions. Mulder was somewhat disturbed by the grudging respect that had started to enter Scully’s eyes when talking about Krycek. She was supposed to hate him. That was one of the constants of his universe; that both he and Scully would hate Alex Krycek.

Scully was nodding and had picked up a pen to write the information down that he was giving her. Mulder knew from experience that it would be a location and combination to a locker in an inconspicuous, public place. Inside the locker would be a pack containing all the information and evidence they would need to put yet another Consortium member away.

"What?" Scully’s voice said, sounding surprised. "You want to talk to Mulder?"

Mulder’s eyebrows raised in surprise. That had never happened before. Scully was always the intermediary in their contacts, everyone involved knowing how hard it was for Mulder to control his temper at times.

"Well alright," Scully said, sounding almost reluctant. "Here he is."

She handed him the phone, silently mouthing ‘behave’ at him. He gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look in response. "Mulder."

"Hiya, Mulder!" Krycek’s annoyingly cheerful voice came from over the phone. Two words, which from anyone else would have been a friendly greeting, and Mulder was already gritting his teeth. It was his attitude, Mulder decided.

"What do you want?"

"Jeez, Mulder, you’d think you’d be happier to hear from me. After all, you’ve had several nice arrests lately I hear. That’s alright though, no thanks necessary."

"Good," Mulder grated out.

"Actually, I called to set up a meeting," Krycek said, ignoring Mulder’s tone. "Do you still want to see your sister?"

"…Is she in D.C.?"

"No, but if you agree to the meeting, she’ll be on the first flight out. What do you say?"

"Where and when?" Mulder asked, resigned. He wanted more than anything to see his sister again, and to know she was ok, even if it was just a clone of the girl he had grown up with. Even if this did turn out to be yet another deception, he had to be sure.

* * *

"I still can’t believe you made me come with you," Willow said to Samantha as they walked down a street in D.C. "He’s your brother, Sam. One would think you’d be happy to know that you had family."

Samantha stared at her best friend. It had been four months since she had first met Willow, and although she had gotten used to her cheeriness, she still often said or did things that confused Samantha to no end. "But he’s not my brother, Willow. I explained this. I’m a clone of his sister. The only surviving, mutated freak clone."

Willow frowned. "One, you’re not a freak. Two, who cares if you’re a clone? You’re the same exact genetic material, which makes you still related by DNA. He is your brother."

"But he’ll probably want to have some kind of…relationship. I’m not the girl he knew, and from what I’ve heard about this guy, he’ll try to make me into her. I just think he won’t take the actual me very well."

"You have to give him a chance. I mean, it’s a weird situation. But I don’t think a ‘relationship’ would be so bad for you. You’ve got to have other things in your life besides Section and me."

"How many times do I have to explain this to you? I don’t need anyone, and my job is my life. That’s it. You need to stop trying to change me."

"I’m not changing you. You are." At Samantha’s blank look, Willow just grabbed her hand and started dragging her down the street. "Come on. All this arguing is causing the need for chocolate."

"The location we’re supposed to meet him at is only a few more buildings away. Why did you tell Alex to pick that spot?"

"I knew this was going to be a long and stressful conversation. The best ice-cream parlor in Washington seemed to be the best spot to deal with it."

"I’m meeting my long-lost brother after he’s spent decades of searching for me in an ice cream parlor?" Samantha asked, wavering between sounding incredulous and amused.

"Sam, ice cream solves everything. The sooner you learn that, the better."

"Whatever."

They turned the corner and entered the small building, Willow heading straight to the counter and ordering two very large hot fudge chocolate sundaes before even looking around. Then she turned and searched the crowd, nudging Samantha. "There they are."

The two FBI agents were sitting in a corner booth, looking uncomfortable and out of place in their professional clothes among the crowd of informal teenagers. Then again, Willow and Samantha didn’t fit in very well, either. The skin-tight clothing blended right in, but black leather was not all that common among the other teenagers.

"Come on," Willow urged, pulling a reluctant Samantha over to the booth. Mulder and Scully spotted them as they weaved through the crowd towards them. Mulder looked at the girls, then focused on Samantha,

staring at her unblinkingly.

"Hi!" Willow said cheerfully, sliding into the booth, setting her sundae down and patting the seat next to her. Samantha sat down, avoiding eye contact with everyone. "Well…I guess I should introduce everyone. Um, this is Agent Mulder, and his partner Agent Scully. And this is Samantha."

The introductions were for the most part unnecessary, since everyone there already knew who the others were, but Willow had felt the need to fill the awkward silence that had descended over the table with something.

"Uh, aren’t you going to have some ice cream, Agent Mulder? It’s really good," Willow added, taking another bite of her giant dish of ice cream, noting the large dish that Scully had bought and was eating.

"After watching Scully order her low-fat, no-cholesterol, sugarless yogurt, I lost my appetite." Willow looked at Scully’s dish in a new light, and couldn’t help but wince in sympathy. Yuck.

"So, you’re Samantha," Scully said, watching the young teenager stir her ice cream without much appetite.

Samantha’s gaze met Scully’s, and the agent met her hard eyes unflinchingly. "Yep."

"And you work for Section? You’re just a child, you look a little younger than Willow here, actually. How long have you been an operative there?"

"All my life. Well, as long as I can remember anyway. The Consortium created me for a purpose. All the other clones in the experiment had to be put down because of flaws in their genetic material. I’m the only one that made it long enough to actually be trained by the Consortium. I’d probably still be there if Alex Krycek hadn’t put together a mission to extract me."

Mulder made a choking sound, and Samantha continued the story, getting an almost malicious look on her face. "Yeah, you wouldn’t believe the experiments they do over there. Did you know that our genes are really special? We’re one in like, a billion people. That’s why dad gave the original girl to them in the first place, you know. He knew that doing tests on one of you would be very helpful to the project. It was just chance that he picked the girl I guess."

Everyone at the table was looking at her with horrified expressions on their faces, and Samantha looked almost satisfied at the scene she had created. A small voice in her head was yelling that she shouldn’t have said those things, but a bigger part of her was satisfied. Unconsciously she had wanted to create the same emotional turmoil she was feeling in everyone else, and now that she had accomplished that, she could relax a little. Until she felt Willow’s sharp elbow dig sharply into her side.

"Ow!"

Willow glared at her, disappointed in her friend. That had been uncalled for. Samantha saw the injured, almost guilty look in Mulder’s eyes and felt some remorse for her behavior. Glancing over at Willow, who was giving her a meaningful look, she cleared her throat.

"But, um, that’s in the past. I’m content now. Section has given me a good life, and I am a full operative. They put my talents to good use."

"What made your batch of clones so special?" Scully asked, trying to get the conversation away from the ugly turn it had taken. "From what I understand, many successful clones have been created in the past."

"Those were all destroyed. I’m the only one left now. They sort of…I don’t know, tweaked my genes I guess you could say. I can manipulate the electrons of gaseous substances, such as air, and excite them to a level that will produce a blast of electricity. I direct the stream to where I want it to go, and it makes a big boom. Get all that?"

"It’s really cool to watch," Willow chimed in. "Very ‘Star Wars’."

"So basically, you’re like Storm, from X-Men," Mulder said, finding comfort in his pop-culture metaphor.

At Samantha’s blank look, Willow shrugged. "She doesn’t get out much," She explained to Mulder. To Samantha, she said, "Eat your ice cream before it melts."

"You know we’re not supposed to eat on missions unless it’s necessary for the cover. Who knows what could have been put in this in the kitchen?"

Willow shot her an incredulous look. "Yes, I’m sure there’s a terrorist planted in the kitchen on the off-chance that some Section operatives will stumble in and eat the food."

"It’s possible," Samantha said, still reluctant.

"Well, she’s certainly got your paranoia," Scully observed, watching the scene.

Willow glared at Samantha. "Eat the ice cream," she said in a low, dangerous tone that only surfaced when she was really annoyed.

"It looks gross," Samantha complained. "And it’s cold."

"It’s supposed to be cold! That’s the point. We’ve been friends for nearly four months now, and I’ve had you eat all kinds of new stuff. Have I ever steered you wrong?"

Samantha immediately made a face. "The anchovies on the pizza."

"I told you! That was a mistake. They got the order wrong. I wanted pepperoni."

"Well, the pineapples were good."

Willow shuddered at that. She hated pineapples on her pizza, but Birkoff loved it, so Samantha had tried it one night when they were all hanging out together. Unfortunately, now Samantha was hooked on the stuff. Slowly, Samantha put a small amount of ice cream onto her spoon and took a bite. Her eyes widened at the cold, frosty temperature of it. As usual, though, Willow had guided her right, and she took another bite in short succession. Scully and Mulder watched, somewhat bemused, as the hard, capable young woman they had seen disappeared, and was replaced by an exuberant, normal teenage girl.

* * *

Nikita ducked behind the car, wincing. She hated it when missions went bad, and this one was particularly messy. Most of Michael’s team was already down, and Michael himself was still trying to reach the package. She was supposed to stay here until he returned to keep his exit clear, but the com system had gone down a couple of minutes ago and she had no way of knowing what was going on.

"Michael!" She yelled into her communicator, hoping the signal disrupting them had somehow been disabled, but there was still no response. As a bullet ricocheted off the car near her head, she spun around and shot a man in a ski mask that had been sneaking up on her position from behind. As he went down, she suddenly heard Michael’s voice.

"Nikita! I need you!" Wondering how he had gotten the communicators to work, but not pausing for a moment, Nikita dashed from her cover, running to the building where Michael had disappeared some time ago. As she sprinted through the open stretch of ground, she was hailed with bullets, but aiming quickly and efficiently while dodging in a random pattern, she quickly took down two of her attackers, sending the others diving for cover.

Running down a hallway, she instinctively turned a corner, and dashed into a room, shooting two terrorists hiding behind a solid desk before they had time to respond to her presence. As quiet filled the room, Michael stood up from the opposite end of the room, where he had been crouching. Nikita thrust down a worried exclamation at the sight of one of his arms hanging uselessly at his side and dripping blood. He clutched his gun in the other hand, and, propping up his injured side under her shoulder, Nikita supported him back out into the hallway.

The trip out to the van was relatively easy. Most of the terrorists had been eliminated, and only a few stragglers took shots at them, but the effortless aim of Michael took care of them, even with his injury. Once they had reached the van, it raced away, the detonation charges that had been planted exploding moments later. Michael reached into his shirt and pulled out the package they had been sent to retrieve, handing it to another operative, as Nikita hurriedly dressed his arm and tried to stop the bleeding.

"How did you get the com working again?" Nikita asked, trying to distract Michael from the pain. He gave her a strange look.

"I didn’t. There was a signal blocking them that I couldn’t penetrate. How did you know where I was?"

"But…I heard you," Nikita protested, confused. "You were calling for help."

Michael looked at her with that blank expression that she couldn’t stand, but this time she knew it was because he was disturbed. Neither could say what had happened to them during this mission, but somehow both of them knew that it was something that couldn’t be avoided. It was as natural and inevitable as their relationship had been from the very beginning.

* * *

Ever since the meeting between Samantha and her brother, Sam had been avoiding Willow. It had been weeks, but she had nearly completely withdrawn, and if she wasn’t off on a mission, then she had somewhere else she needed to be. Willow was saddened by this, but didn’t take it personally. She knew Samantha just needed some time to work things out on her own and didn’t need Willow pressuring her to conclusions she had to come to by herself. Willow was kept busy herself, and was in the best shape of her life. The practice sessions were no longer things to be dreaded, but instead, were times of the day she looked forward to now. There was nothing more fun than learning a new combination or move under Nikita or Alex’s supervision, and they both seemed surprised at the amazing progress Willow had made over the past few months. She could already give Nikita a run for her money, and at least now Alex broke a sweat before tossing her all over the mat.

Samantha had meant to keep avoiding Willow, but one afternoon in late November she was coming out of the training room, having just finished teaching the new recruits basic hand-to-hand skills, when she ran into Willow. There she was, in one of the practice rooms, fighting Nikita with Alex Krycek watching. Samantha paused, then came nearer to watch.

Surprisingly, Willow was good. Very good. Both agents were already sweating, but Willow was keeping Nikita on the defensive, making her retreat. As Samantha watched, Willow delivered a quick series of kicks to Nikita’s midsection, then crouched down and swept the older woman’s feet out from under her, placing a foot on top of Nikita’s now prone body. Alex laughed and clapped from the corner encouragingly.

"Very good Pumpkin!"

Willow grinned and offered Nikita a hand, helping her up. "Luck," Nikita said with a smile.

"You wish," Willow replied.

Just then, Alex spotted Samantha watching. "Hey!"

Samantha looked at him, startled and slightly in awe. Alex Krycek was talking to her. "Yes?"

"Samantha, right? Come over here." Samantha obeyed, entering the training room. "Willow needs a new sparring partner. You up for it?"

"Sure," she said, shrugging, while thinking to herself that she should have just left while she had the chance. Now she was stuck with the one person she had been most trying to avoid.

Willow’s eyes widened, but she moved to the center of the room obediently, watching as her friend did the same. Alex gave the start signal and both girls began to circle each other, sizing each other up. Willow was the first to strike out, and Samantha noted the tendency towards impatience in a fight. The first exchange was short, mostly just a way for both to get the other’s timing and speed. They backed away from each other, circling again.

This time, Samantha was the one to attack, moving in quickly with a flurry of kicks and punches that put Willow on the defensive, blocking all of Samantha’s best efforts. Eventually, Willow switched tactics, blocking one kick, and using the momentum to her advantage, launching herself at Samantha with a backhanded punch. Samantha dodged just in time, throwing herself back away from her, breathing quickly.

The girls circled each other again, each looking for an opening. "If I win," Willow said, slightly out of breath, "does that mean you’ll have to talk to me again?"

"Nope," Samantha said, attacking her again before Willow had a chance to respond. Willow ducked and backed away, then closed the distance between them and hit Samantha back with a powerful right hook. They grappled at close quarters for a few seconds, before Samantha’s longer training gave her the advantage, and she threw Willow away from her with a twist and outflung wrist that Willow never saw coming. Willow fell to the ground, but when Samantha went to pounce, used her legs to flip her over and land on her back right above the area where Willow was lying.

"I’d call that a draw," Alex said from the corner. "I’m impressed, girls."

Willow and Samantha sat up slowly, wincing over their bruises. "Um, I’ve gotta go," Samantha said, getting up to leave.

"Oh no you don’t!" Willow exclaimed, grabbing the other girl’s arm. "I was willing to be nice and patient, but it’s been weeks now. I’m tired of being patient. Time to quit being a baby and talk to me."

"Baby!?" Samantha said indignantly. Willow always seemed to be able to make her feel like a child, no matter what she did, and she really didn’t like the feeling. "I just didn’t feel like talking that’s all. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Yes!" Willow practically shouted. "We’re supposed to be friends, remember? There’s no conceivable reason for you to be avoiding me."

"Well, I guess I’ll be going, see you later Pumpkin," Alex said from the corner, leaving quickly with Nikita. Now that they were alone, Samantha seemed even more uncomfortable and broke away from Willow’s grasp to pick up a towel and wipe off her face.

"I’ve never had a friend," Samantha finally muttered quietly. "I’m not exactly sure how this works."

Willow sighed, then smiled. "Well, it helps if you actually speak to me for starters. Talking about whatever’s bothering you might help too, instead of shutting me out completely."

"I guess that makes sense," Samantha said, hoping she hadn’t totally blown it with Willow and that she would still want to be friends. "So…do you want to go somewhere and talk?"

"Sure," Willow said, smiling again at Samantha. She knew that a friendship with this girl would never be easy, and Willow only hoped that she would be able to help her make sense of some of her life. They left the workout room together, once again friends.

* * *

Methos grumbled as he walked down the street in Sunnydale. He had now spent several months in this town, and was no closer to finding out what had drawn him here than he had been at the beginning. But every time he decided to leave, something stopped him. So, as much as it went against his nature, he had decided to talk to the Slayer and her friends, tell them why he was really there. Maybe that would get him somewhere.

He finally arrived at what he had deduced was the group’s normal meeting place-the apartment of one Rupert Giles, the seeming father figure of the group. Standing before the door, he could hear an argument going on inside. He paused and listened carefully.

"This is hopeless! How are we supposed to find out anything? Let’s face it, Willow was our source of information. The only person who could find Willow would be Willow!" Buffy’s voice said.

"But she’s alive! Or at least, she might be alive! We can’t just give up!" Exclaimed Xander.

"There’s no way we can find her, even if she is alive," pointed out Buffy. "We have more concrete problems."

"No!" Xander yelled. "There’s got to be a way to figure this out!"

Methos chose that moment to knock on the door. The voices inside suddenly fell silent, and a moment later Giles answered the door. When he saw Methos, he glared. "What are you doing here?"

Methos shrugged and walked past him. "I wasn’t getting anywhere with this little mystery of mine. Figured that maybe the Slayer and her buddies could help me. But from the sound of things, it doesn’t seem that you’ve had too much luck investigating your friend’s death either."

Riley narrowed his eyes. "Why would an Immortal bother investigating Willow’s death?"

Methos was only slightly surprised that they knew he was an Immortal, so there was no visible reaction on his face. "I have my own reasons. But I have learned enough to conclude that there is a possibility that your friend is still alive. Considering your lack of resources, I’m wondering how you came to the same conclusion."

"A friend of ours had a vision. Over four months ago."

"Ah. Well, you certainly are dedicated. Four months of searching with nearly no results isn’t fun. Therefore, I have a suggestion."

Everyone seemed to be listening skeptically, so he continued. "Bring your friends here, and I’ll share what little I know. Working together might get us a little further."

"Why would that require Cordy and Angel?" Xander asked.

"I want to talk to the Seer in person. I have quite a bit of experience in interpreting visions, as well as bringing them on."

"You can do that?"

"Of course. Do we have a deal?"

The group of four seemed to consider for a moment, then Buffy nodded. "Deal."

* * *

Birkoff had finally settled back into a routine at Section. At first, the presence of Willow as his new partner had thrown him off, but now they were working together as smoothly as if there had never been any other arrangement. Madeline was especially pleased by the increase in efficiency, and Operations seemed to enjoy having an extra person to bark at when things went wrong. As for Birkoff himself, he had to admit that his life had definitely gotten better since Willow had showed up. The workload was lighter because he had someone capable to share it with, and he now had time for a social life outside of Section, which to his great surprise but delight, tended to include Willow as a main figure. They spent a lot of time together. Just the other day, she had taken him ice-skating for the first time in his life. He still had bruises. But it had been worth it. By the end of the evening, he had gotten pretty good at it, and they skated around the rink hand in hand. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he would admit that he couldn’t imagine life without Willow anymore.

Just then, Willow herself sat down next to him, interrupting his thoughts. "There you are," he said. "Where’ve you been?"

"Setting up lunch," Willow said with a grin. "The aren’t any missions for another hour and a half, right?"

"Yeah," Birkoff replied, confused. "Why?"

Willow took his hand and pulled him out of his chair. "Because I’ve got a surprise for you,’ she explained, leading him down out of the Hub of Section and into the hallways behind Walter’s station. "I figured that even if he found us back here, he wouldn’t care."

They walked for a few moments, then Willow turned to him and said, "Now close your eyes."

"What?" Birkoff asked, a skeptical look on his face.

She looked at him with a sweet, pleading look on her face. "Please?"

Birkoff sighed, then shut his eyes. Willow smiled and took his hand, leading him down the last few feet of the tunnel-like hallway. After one quick check to make sure that everything was still perfect, she said, "Ok, you can open them now."

Birkoff opened his eyes and was greeted with a beautiful site. A red and white checkered blanket decorated the floor of the hallway, and on it was a woven basket with chicken, fruit, cheese, bread, potato salad, cake, cookies, and other assorted foods surrounding it. The light in the hallway was dim because so few people ever came back there that full lighting was inefficient, so Willow had lit a candle in the center of the blanket. "What’s all this?" Birkoff asked, not sure whether to be touched or confused.

Willow shrugged. "I wanted a picnic, but London weather in early December is hardly picnic-friendly. Then I realized that they don’t care what we do for lunch as long as we eat and figured instead of eating out like we always do, we could eat in. I thought it would be…romantic."

Birkoff’s eyebrows rose. "Romantic?" He repeated, slightly dumbfounded. He had to admit that he was falling head over heels for this little quirky redhead, but she had always resisted any advances he made beside friendship. Now though, it seemed things were about to change.

Willow nodded, blushing slightly. "Unless…you don’t…I mean…"

"No! I mean, of course I…I just thought that you didn’t want to…"

"I didn’t," At his confused look, Willow attempted to explain. "Right before I was recruited, I had had a really bad break-up with the only guy I had ever really dated. It took me awhile to remember…what falling in love feels like."

Birkoff couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off of his face. He pulled Willow into his arms and leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and sighing contentedly. Then he kissed her, surprised at the lights that began to flash behind his eyelids and the way the kiss seemed so…right. Wow. So this was what love was like…

A soft, polite cough interrupted their kiss, and they both pulled away reluctantly. Walter stood there with Samantha. Walter had a huge grin on his face and Samantha just looked sort of…intrigued while she studied them.

"I had to come back here to find a part for Samantha here," Walter explained. "What were you two doing?"

Willow leaned her forehead against Birkoff’s for a moment, then pulled away, laughing. "Very funny. We were having lunch. Would you like some?"

Walter and Samantha pounced on the food eagerly. Birkoff sighed, then sat down on the blanket with them. Walter was the only father figure he had ever had, and Samantha had actually become somewhat of a friend through Willow, so he supposed he would have to forgive their intrusion. Picking up a piece of chicken, he began to eat heartily.

Fifteen minutes later, a curious Alex popped his head around the corner. "I smell Willow-cooking," he said.

"It’s a good thing I cooked a lot," Willow said as Alex settled down on the blanket. Alex grinned and helped himself to a piece of fruit. "Nikita was right behind me, and I think she was dragging Michael along too."

Sure enough, just then Michael and Nikita rounded the corner. Nikita was laughing. "Willow, only you would dare to try and pull a stunt like this in Section One."

"Everyone has to eat, right?" Willow pointed out. "What does it matter where or how?"

Nikita settled down on the blanket, pulling a reluctant Michael after her.

An hour later, Operations was walking around the Hub when he heard laughter coming from one of the back hallways. Puzzled, he followed the sound past Walter’s station and into one of the seldom-used storage hallways. Turning several corners, he came face to face with a group of people laughing and talking on what appeared to be…a blanket?

"WHAT is going on here?!" He yelled.

The entire group became silent and turned to look at him. He continued, "Who authorized this mess?!"

The group all leaned back and Operations was struck dumb when he saw his right-hand, Madeline herself, sitting on the blanket primly eating an apple. "Hello Paul," she said in her calm, expressionless voice. "I heard them a few minutes ago and came to investigate. They’ll be back to work in a few minutes, after they’ve all eaten a sufficient amount of food that even the best operative needs to keep up their efficiency level." After a pause, she picked up another apple and offered it to him. "Would you like an apple? They’re very nutritional."

Part Seven

MacLeod got out of the taxi and looked around for a moment, then turned and offered his hand to Amanda. She paid the cab driver and grabbed their bags, then turned and looked around the small community of Sunnydale, California.

"So, where do we start looking for Methos?" Amanda asked.

MacLeod shrugged. "I suppose the university would be the best place."

The two Immortals headed towards the university, each with a duffel bag in hand. MacLeod was still annoyed with himself for taking so long to find Methos. He and Amanda had figured that since he was already known as Adam Pierson in one life, he wouldn’t use the same name for another. They had figured wrong. Once they had tried the pseudonym, they had easily found a professor of psychology at a small town college that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere almost five months ago. He and Amanda had booked tickets on the first available flight to Sunnydale, and that’s how they had gotten where they were now.

The couple quickly found a map of the campus and headed towards what appeared to be the Human Sciences building. When they entered, each of them felt a surge of power and knew that Methos was near. Looking around frantically, they picked out the figure of a man sitting with three college students and an older man just inside a classroom door. They walked towards the door and the man stood, making a face when he saw who it was.

"Amanda. MacLeod. What a…well, surprise."

"Professor Pierson," Amanda said, wanting to keep his cover.

Sighing, Methos said resignedly, "Why don’t you come in? I’ll explain everything."

* * *

Willow walked down the halls of Section quickly, whistling a Christmas Carol. With the Solstice only ten days away, she was in an incredibly cheerful mood. Ever since she had moved to Section, her magical powers had been increasing at enormous rates, and she looked forward to holidays because they were a time where her newfound powers were at their height. Besides, she was going to get to celebrate the winter holidays with her new friends-her family. Although the thought of Buffy and the Scooby gang still made her a little sad from time to time, she had managed to compartmentalize her life fairly well, realizing that she could never be happy in Section if she kept thinking about what she didn’t have rather than what she did. And she had a lot. She had a great roommate, the closest thing to an older sister she’d ever had, and Walter, who would listen to her problems for hours. She had Alex, her older brother figure who she adored, and Samantha, her best friend. Not to mention what was becoming a very serious relationship with Birkoff. She could stand up for herself now, the training with Alex and Nikita had gone so well that she really did have the skill level of a Level Three or Level Four operative, and her wardrobe was much cooler. Life was good. Thinking about all this, she had come up with an idea.

"Hark the herald angels sing…" she sang softly. She reached her station and finished up her work for the day, gave Birkoff a quick kiss, then headed to Nikita’s station. "Nikita!" She called out, and the blond turned around, smiling when she saw Willow.

"Yeah?"

Willow pulled up a chair next to Nikita’s station and sat in it casually. "I have an idea. Oversite is closing down Section One for a complete systems and inventory check just like they do every year, right?"

Nikita nodded. "Right before Christmas. Why?"

"Well, we all get down time, right?"

Nikita nodded again.

"Well, I was thinking we should have a party. A holiday party. It’ll be fun! We can invite everyone, and have a big, normal holiday dinner."

"We’ll have to make sure it’s all right with Operations and Madeline, but I don’t see any problem with it."

"Oh, I’ll check I guess. They’re not all that bad, and it’s my idea."

Willow stood and half ran up the stairs to Operations’ perch, knocking on the door sedately, but still humming.

"Come in!"

The doors opened and Willow stepped in, relieved to see both Madeline and Operations there. "Hello Willow," Madeline said.

"Hi! I wanted to ask you something," Willow explained. She told them about her idea quickly, and they looked at each other meaningfully.

"That sounds fine, Willow," Madeline said finally.

"Great!" The young girl practically squealed, then turned to leave. Suddenly, she stopped and turned around again. "Would you like to come?"

Two sets of eyes blinked at her, surprised. They exchanged another look, this one much more confused and questioning.

"Um, thank you very much for the invitation, Willow, but we will be very busy supervising the systems check," Madeline said finally.

Willow frowned, but nodded. "Well, let me know if you change your minds."

"I will," Madeline said with a polite smile.

Willow nodded and left, whistling. Operations and Madeline watched her from the perch, both slightly befuddled. "That girl is strange. Not to mention entirely too cheerful," Operations said finally.

"Nonsense. She’s worked wonders for the morale."

"Nonetheless," Operations grumbled, more to have something to complain about than for any real reason, "we need to watch her closely. Remember who her mother was."

"Of course. But then, there’s her father to consider as well. Either way, she’s proving to be a good asset to Section, despite being a little…unconventional."

* * *

Amanda and MacLeod looked around the crowded apartment, slightly confused. Right before nightfall, the entire group had moved to Giles’ apartment, although no one would explain why this was necessary. Ever since they had arrived, the group of college students and Methos had been trying to explain the events behind a young girl’s death and why Methos had come all the way across the world to investigate it. Things just seemed to get more confusing, however, and just when Amanda and MacLeod thought that they couldn’t be any more confused, the doorbell rang.

The boy named Xander walked to the door and answered it, smiling when he saw the girl who stood there. He reached out and hugged her with a greeting. "Hey Cordy! It’s good to see you! It’s about time you got here!"

The girl shrugged. "Angel was right in the middle of a case. We couldn’t just leave."

A tall, dark-haired, serious man appeared behind the girl, and the room fell silent. Riley and Xander seemed to be glaring at the new addition to the room, and Giles didn’t seem all that pleased to see him either. In fact, no one seemed overjoyed at the man’s presence.

"Angel," someone said grudgingly. The man nodded in greeting, but said nothing.

"I’ve got it!" Exclaimed Methos triumphantly from a corner.

The entire group turned to him and Amanda bounded up to his side, curious. "So what does the annoying thing say?"

Methos read the panel quickly. "It’s the details for some sort of mission involving the removal of a bomb placed by a terrorist from a government organization. It seems to belong to a top-secret anti-terrorist organization. There aren’t any details besides the perimeters for the mission, though."

"A top-secret organization, huh?" Xander said, peering over Methos’ shoulder. "Maybe they have Willow."

"How is that related to this at all?" Exclaimed Buffy, slightly annoyed.

Xander considered, then shrugged. "It’s not. But a top-secret organization would have the resources to fake a death." When he saw the skeptical looks around the room, he said defensively, "Hey, do you guys have any better ideas? Because we have yet to come up with a plausible way she could be alive! Maybe it wasn’t this particular agency, but if she was hacking into something she shouldn’t have been right before her death, then who’s to say that they didn’t come to get her?"

Silence ruled the room for awhile, then Giles cleared his throat. "Actually, he has a point."

Reluctantly, most of the people in the room seemed to agree. Methos stood and stretched then headed toward the two newcomers. He stopped in front of the girl and smiled. "So you’re the Seer."

"Unfortunately," the girl replied. "I’m Cordelia."

"Adam Pierson," Methos answered, offering his had and shaking Cordelia’s. "It seems that you’re our only hope of solving this particular mystery."

"But I can’t control the visions! They just sort of…appear when they want."

"Ah, but there are ways of bringing them on. I was friends with a Seer awhile back and picked up a few tricks." Methos picked up a sack next to him and turned into the kitchen where he disappeared, emerging a few moments later with a glass filled with a putrid smelling brown liquid. "This is the quickest way."

Cordelia eyed the glass with disgust. "What’s in that?"

Methos made a face. "Don’t ask. Just drink."

Cordelia took the glass and sat down on the couch, gazing at the horrid liquid, face slightly green. "This is gonna be really awful, isn’t it?"

"I’m afraid so."

She hesitated for one more minute, then took a deep breath. "For Willow," she said grimly. "Bottoms up."

She brought the glass to her lips and downed the entire revolting concoction in three gulps, sputtering at the horrible taste. She dropped the glass on the floor as flashes of light and color assaulted her almost immediately. When the vision finally ended, she managed to gasp, "Paper."

With one hand she grabbed the water Giles had ready, still gagging, and with the other she wrote down a series of words and numbers. "I’m going to be tasting that stuff for days," she muttered. Then she gazed at what she wrote, reading it aloud.

"46 Holmes Dr, London, England. Apartment 4B." Looking at Methos, she smiled. "Wow."

"What is it?" Xander asked.

"It’s where she lives."

* * *

Scully was on her way out of the office after a long day’s work when the cell-phone Krycek had given her rang. Surprised, she answered it. "Hello?"

"Hi Agent Scully!" A chipper voice greeted her.

Confused, she tried to place the voice. She only knew one person that was that cheery. "Willow?" she asked.

"Yep, it’s me. I got the number from Alex."

"Oh," Scully said, still confused. She hadn’t seen the girl since Mulder had dragged her along to the meeting between him and his sister. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to invite you to my party."

Scully’s eyebrows shot up. "Party?" She repeated.

"Yeah. A holiday party. Madeline and Operations said you could come if you liked, that I could pay for the tickets."

"I thought that we’re not supposed to know where Section is."

"Oh, they found out that you knew. They’re like that."

"I see." Scully considered. "Mulder too?"

"Of course! Although he’ll have to behave. Alex is coming, of course, and there is not going to be any fighting of any kind allowed."

"That may be difficult for him," Scully said with a smile.

"I know. But Sam will be there too, and she thinks she’d like to see him again. Her exact words."

"Well…I’ll have to see what Mulder thinks."

"Of course. Why don’t I call back tomorrow?"

"Sounds good."

"Ok then. Goodbye, Agent Scully."

"Bye Willow."

* * *

The group of Sunnydale residents, people from Los Angeles, and Immortals came close to filling up a floor of the hotel they were staying at in London. Fortunately, Methos had had the foresight to call ahead and reserve them enough rooms at a nice hotel or they would have been in trouble. He was paying the expenses for this venture as well, shrugging off the costs carelessly, saying that if he didn’t have a careful network of accountants, he wouldn’t even be able to keep track of his network of wealth anymore. At this, Cordelia had gotten a predatory gleam in her eyes for a moment before shaking it off, and MacLeod and Amanda had looked at him strangely. Explaining that he liked to keep a low profile, Methos ignored all attempts by Giles, Angel, MacLeod, and Amanda to contribute to the costs of the trip.

It had been much easier to get everyone moving than Methos had feared. They were in London and situated in less than a week. The boy Xander just mentioned to his mother that he would be traveling for a few days, and that she shouldn’t worry, as he was packing his suitcase. Buffy’s mother apparently already knew that she was the Slayer, so after a quick hug and admonishment to be careful, she wished them luck on their search for Willow and said goodbye.

Now the group of ten was gathered in the main room of the suite Methos was staying in, trying to plan their next move. With a group this large and diverse, however, it was quickly becoming apparent that agreeing on anything would be nearly impossible unless someone took charge. Buffy and Riley were leaning against each other by the fireplace, pushing for a full frontal assault with no finesse involved whatsoever. Angel supported this idea, but only on the condition that only he and the Immortals go in. Anyone else would be too vulnerable, he stated, his eyes sliding towards Buffy. MacLeod was trying to come up with an elaborate plan that had little chance of succeeding, while Amanda, who was perched on the arm of the easy chair he was sitting in was trying to talk everyone into the breaking-and-entering option. Giles, sitting on the couch, wanted to talk everything to death, and was paging through a thick tome, trying to come up with a spell that would fit the occasion. Xander and Cordelia, who were also seated on the couch, were not contributing much to the discussion, except for Xander’s occasional interruptions as he mocked everyone in the room in turn. Spike, who had joined the travelers at the last minute, just sat apart from everyone else, smirking. Arriving right before they had left, he had simply said that he wanted to help find ‘Red’.

"Enough!" Methos said sharply, satisfied when everyone immediately fell silent, staring at him in surprise. "We’re never going to accomplish anything as a democracy. This is what we’re going to do. Amanda, you will find a way into the apartment. Take Buffy with you in case there is a confrontation and you have to fight your way out. You’ll observe the situation first-hand, and extract Willow without a struggle if she’s alone. Angel, MacLeod, Spike, Riley and I will find a position near the door of the building in case we need to intervene. Cordelia and Xander will be stationed nearby with high-powered binoculars, monitoring the situation through the windows and keeping in touch with us through the communicators I’ll provide everyone with in a moment. Giles, you need to find a spell that will help disguise and keep Buffy and Amanda from being detected inside the apartment. We don’t know what the situation will be in there. Any questions?"

Everyone in the room stared at him, shocked speechless by his commanding tone. Since no one could find any part of his plan to object to, and he had really addressed every important issue in his directions, nobody could find anything to say for a moment.

"Good thing I brought my equipment," Amanda muttered, grinning. She would rather do this alone, she had to admit, it would be a good idea to have backup. And if she had to take someone, it might as well be the blond girl. She seemed flexible, and looked strong enough to be useful. Methos grabbed a black duffel bag from behind his chair, and passed out devices that fit snugly behind the wearer’s ear, and allowed them all to communicate. He handed high-tech binoculars to Cordelia and Xander, and gave them quick instructions on their use

"Where did you get this stuff anyway?" Riley asked, puzzled. "Some of this equipment is state-of-the-art military grade stuff."

"I have a friend who owes me a favor in MI6," Methos explained casually. "I promised to have his things back in a few days. I called him as soon as we got off the plane. Alright people, let’s get organized here. We move out tomorrow."

The separate units spread apart, Amanda and Buffy starting to work out the details of their covert entrance, MacLeod sorting out positions and weapons among the team he had assumed command of, and Cordelia and Xander arguing good-naturedly about something inconsequential as they tried to figure out the binoculars. Methos oversaw everyone, and circulated among the groups, pointing out errors or oversights when he saw them, but mostly just providing a leader figure for everyone else to follow.

* * *

Skinner jumped as his phone ran, cutting the silence in his office and startling him. Grumbling, he picked up the receiver. "Yes?" He asked testily.

"Agent Skinner, is this line secure?" A voice said in his ear.

Skinner rolled his eyes. Only one of a crazy group of three would ask that. "Of course. Which one of Mulder’s crazy friends are you?"

"Actually all three of us are on the line," said a second voice.

"We’re worried about Mulder. He’s disappeared," explained a third voice.

Skinner groaned. "He and Agent Scully called in yesterday, requesting a few days off for the holidays. Said they wanted to go away for awhile."

"That’s highly improbable."

Skinner was very annoyed. "Why? What other reason would they be going away?"

"We think they’re being controlled by a covert government organization," one of the Lone Gunmen said.

"What?! I’m hanging up now."

"No, wait!"

Against his better judgement, Skinner paused. "What?"

"Why not come to London with us? If we find Agent Scully and Agent Mulder on vacation together, then you were right and you’ll have a free trip to England to boot."

"If we’re right, then we’ll have saved their butts."

Skinner was shocked to find himself actually considering their offer. Finally, he said, "First-class or coach?"

Part Eight

"No, Samantha!" Willow yelled. "When it says one egg, you have to crack it first!"

When Samantha looked at her blankly, Willow kept the scream that was building up inside somehow. The party had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Willow almost regretted the impulse. Nikita was out, said she had some Christmas shopping to do, so Willow was left alone to try and get the party together on her own. One panicked phone call later, and Sam had come over, but Willow quickly learned that left on her own, the girl could cause more trouble than Xander on a sugar-high.

"Crack it?"

"Yes! See, like this."

"Oh…" Samantha said, understanding dawning across her face. "I’ve never cooked before you know."

"Yes," Willow said patiently. "I figured that out."

"I guess this means I’ve got to do the stuffing over again."

"Yes. I guess it does."

Willow made sure that Sam knew what she was doing, then walked out to the living room where she had left the decorations. Tiny white twinkling Christmas lights were now wrapped around the patio and the several columns in the room, and several evergreen wreaths were hanging from various spots around the room. There was a Christmas tree tastefully decorated in the corner, and under it were the many presents Willow and Nikita had brought, as well as the ultra-neat, obviously store-wrapped presents from Samantha. A menorah stood in the window, its candles flickering in the cloudy light of the December afternoon, and a small silver pentacle hung over the door to Willow’s room. To fill up the rest of the space, she had gathered all of the candles she could find and placed them all around the room, on various stands, ready to light them right before the party began. Soft classical music played in the background, a medley of Russian composers she had picked to amuse Alex, and as Willow looked around the room, finally content with its appearance, she felt a shiver down her back, almost like someone was watching her. She turned and looked out of the glass doors to the patio, running her eyes carefully over the surrounding area, then shrugged off the feeling and headed back into the kitchen.

"How are you doing in here, Sam?"

"I think I’m starting to get the hang of it," Samantha said cheerfully, covered in various sauces and flour from the desert she had attempted.

Willow only blinked. Granted, she was probably just as messy in her sweats, but the sight of her friend reminded her that though they had taken care of everything else, they had forgotten to get themselves ready. After a quick check on the turkey, which smelled amazing, she turned back to her friend with a smile. "Ok, into the shower you go," she said grinning.

"But what about the vegetable dish?" Samantha asked, almost disappointed to give up her post.

"I can take it from here," Willow said, laughing good-naturedly, and pushing Samantha out of the kitchen. "You need to get changed. You don’t want Mulder to see you like this, do you?"

"I guess you’re right," she acknowledged reluctantly. "Make sure you baste the turkey again in a few minutes. And the potatoes still need to be blended. And the casserole comes out in another ten minutes."

"I’ve got it!" Willow said, exasperated, pushing the anxious cook out with finality. "Go get yourself cleaned up, already!"

After Samantha had retreated into the bathroom, with one last worried backward glance, Willow began stirring the sauce simmering on the stove absent-mindedly. She had to admit that if anything, having Samantha as a best friend was never boring.

* * *

"The other girl just went into the bathroom," Xander said into his communicator. "Willow’s cooking."

"It looks like they’re getting ready for a party," Cordelia chimed in. "If we’re gonna do this, now would be a good time."

"Amanda, Buffy, move into your positions," Methos’ voice said in their ears.

With his binoculars, Xander saw two black-clad figures repelling down from the roof onto the patio-like balcony of the apartment Willow was in. He focused on Willow again. "Hold on a sec, she’s gone into one of the bedrooms."

Amanda quickly picked the lock to the sliding doors, then whispered to Buffy, "After you."

Buffy stealthily ran into the apartment, ducking behind the large ornamental screen in one of the corners, Amanda close behind. Just then, the door to the apartment opened and a tall blond woman walked in, laden down with packages.

* * *

"Willow, I’m back!" She called out.

"Great, can you baste the turkey real quick? We’re almost ready," Willow’s voice came from her room.

"Um, sure," Nikita’s voice called out, much less confidently.

"You just take the long tube thingee with the squeezer at the end of it, suck up some of the juice from around the turkey and squeeze it onto it a few times," Samantha’s voice came from the bedroom, understanding Nikita’s confusion. "It’s pretty easy once you get it."

"Ok, sounds simple enough," Nikita mumbled, picking up a strange looking utensil from the counter that fitted Samantha’s description and opening the oven to ‘baste the turkey’. With her life in Section, and her life on the streets, she didn’t have a great deal of experience with this sort of thing. Samantha was right, though, it was pretty easy. Just then, Samantha emerged from the bedroom, looking stunning in her tight silver dress with slits running high up to mid-thigh. Nikita saw and noted this aspect of the design that would be useful if a fight broke out, leaving her legs free for high kicks and not impeding her movements. She herself wore a similar style of dress, but Nikita’s was shorter, black, and leather.

Samantha immediately moved over to the kitchen and put her apron back on, starting to blend the mashed potatoes. She looked a little silly, with her elegantly styled hair, classy dress, and expensive jewelry in the tacky apron, but she didn’t seem to mind.

"Samantha, you look nice," Nikita said, wondering if she should change to something more formal herself.

"Thanks, Nikita," Samantha said, looking up from the potatoes. "I just really wanted to try and get it right between me and Mulder this time. Willow was really mad about the last time and how I acted, and I wanted to make a better impression this time."

"You can’t really make a worse one," said Willow, coming out of the bedroom while putting on her second emerald earring.

"That’s a beautiful jewelry set," Nikita said, taking in the simple and elegant emerald necklace, earrings, and bracelet in silver settings.

"Oh, thanks. Madeline gave them to me yesterday," Willow said casually.

"Really," Nikita said neutrally, not pointing out how completely unheard of that was.

"Yeah," Willow continued, not noticing the dumbfounded looks on both Nikita and Samantha’s face. "She felt bad about not being able to come tonight."

"You invited her?" Samantha asked incredulously.

"Of course! It would have been pretty rude not to, don’t you think? It’s too bad she couldn’t come. I bet she and Operations don’t get to go to many parties, they’re so busy all the time."

"You invited Operations, too?" Nikita asked, sounding a bit choked.

"Well, he was standing right there," Willow said, somewhat affronted. "Of course I did."

* * *

Willow moved into the living room, and right into Xander’s line of sight. "What in the…" he muttered, doing a double take.

Buffy, still crouching in the corner, had to muffle her own surprise. Was that really Willow? The girl in front of her was wearing a long, simple black leather skirt with a slit almost all the way up her right leg. A skimpy, shimmering green tank top that brought out her eyes was all she wore on top except for the beautiful, very expensive looking emerald necklace. Her hair was slightly curled around her face and she wore tasteful make-up. All in all, she looked amazing, and not at all like the Willow they knew.

"Wow," Cordelia said admiringly. "She sure cleans up nice. Who knew Willow had it in her."

"Report!" Methos’ voice snapped into their ears.

"Buffy and Amanda are in, and they weren’t seen, but there’s another woman there too now, and she looks kind of scary," Xander noted. "Willow just came out of the bed room, and everyone’s all dressed up."

"Wait, something’s happening," Cordelia interrupted. "Willow’s going to the door now. Two men just walked in. One’s tall, dark-hair, ohhhhh, leather jacket," Cordelia said, getting distracted for a moment.

"What is it with these people and leather?" Xander asked absently, a little annoyed at Cordelia’s attitude. They were supposed to be doing a job here, not drooling over the enemy. Just then, he adjusted the focus on his binoculars and caught sight of the young woman walking into the living room, tossing an apron behind her into the kitchen. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. The silver dress accentuated perfectly her figure, and she moved with a grace and confidence that he had never seen in someone their age before.

"What’s going on up there?" Methos’ voice demanded, getting really annoyed. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to leave those two alone up there.

"Um, anyway," Cordelia said, tearing her eyes away from the leather jacket and its wearer. "The other guy is shorter, wearing glasses, and oh my god! He just kissed Willow!"

"What?!" Xander demanded, tearing his binoculars away from the vision in silver to focus on the doorway. It was true though, Willow was kissing this guy, and there was no sign of coercion that he could see. What the hell was going on here?

"She doesn’t look too unwilling to me," Cordelia observed, echoing Xander’s thoughts. "In fact, she looks kinda into it."

As they watched, Willow pulled away from the young man and spoke to all of the other people in the room while setting a little sign of yellow construction paper on an empty folding table.

* * *

"Willow, think about who’s coming tonight. Do you really think that’s going to work?" Samantha asked, reading the very polite, "Please place all weapons here. Thank you and Happy Holidays!" sign.

Willow shrugged. "Of course not. But it’s good to be polite. Now, this goes for all of you too," she said sternly. "I’ll start." She took out the gun Alex had given her after she had finished his make-shift arms training course and placed it on the table. "Now all of you."

* * *

"Willow has a gun! What is Willow doing with a gun?" Xander questioned no one in particular, sounding like his world had just been turned upside down. As Xander watched, absorbed, the girl in silver hitched up her dress a little more and removed two guns from holsters hidden cleverly by her thighs.

"Whoa," Cordelia said admiringly. "I wouldn’t have thought there was room under there for those."

"Yeah," Xander replied, not able to verbalize anything more complicated.

As they watched, she pulled a knife from a sheath hidden on the under-side of her right wrist, then last, a garrote wire that she had twisted around the bracelet on her left wrist. "Goodness," Cordelia said, taken a bit aback at the display of firepower. "She seemed like a sweet girl."

"REPORT!" Methos yelled, completely fed-up with their uninformative banter. How the hell was he supposed to run a sensitive undercover operation with these…these…children?

"Oh!" Xander said, rubbing his ear. "Well, it looks like Willow is taking everyone’s weapons and putting them on a table. Whoever these people are, they’re dangerous. I’ve never seen so much firepower concentrated on one person in my life," he said. "The guy in the leather jacket is still disarming himself. I’ve lost count of how many guns he’s pulled out."

"Five," Cordelia cut in quickly. "Oh, no wait, there’s six. Plus two knives, brass knuckles, and something that looks like a little cylinder. Willow looks puzzled over that one too. Oh, that’s what it does," she said as he pushed a button, and a thin blade popped out under Willow’s nose. The redhead jumped in surprise, then smacked him on the arm, both of them laughing as he placed the obscure weapon on the table with the rest.

"It looks like the guy with glasses doesn’t have anything," Xander reported in turn. "Buffy and Amanda are still undetected."

"If we could move things along, possibly?" Giles said, gritting his teeth. "I’m not going to be able to keep this shielding spell up indefinitely."

"We wait until they settle, then catch them off guard," Methos decided. "For now, everyone hold their positions. Once everyone is disarmed and seated at the table, our chances for success will be much better."

"AH!" Xander yelped. "She’s kissing him again!"

* * *

Willow pulled away from Birkoff with a smile. "I knew there was a reason I loved you," she said as an answer to the fact that he didn’t have any weapons. "You’re probably my only guest who didn’t come armed to the teeth."

"Ah, but I have Alex," pointed out Birkoff.

"Good point." She smiled again, then handed her boyfriend a box of matches. "Would you start lighting the candles around the room?"

He took them and started his task just as the doorbell rang again. Willow opened the door and squealed in delight when she saw Walter, throwing herself into his arms. "Walter!" She exclaimed. "Hi!"

"Hi Pumpkin," he said. She pulled away from him and pointed at the sign, and he immediately pulled out two guns and handed them to her, and was rewarded with a bright smile.

A timer went off and Samantha cried, "Turkey’s done!"

The other guests watched, somewhat surprised at the exuberant behavior the normally grim girl displayed as she bounced into the kitchen to pull out the main course for their dinner. She was smiling brightly, and seemed totally unrestrained in her behavior.

"What’s up with her?" Alex whispered as soon as she was out of earshot.

"She’s a little…hyper. I made some Christmas cookies last night," Willow explained, indicating a tray set out, half filled with cookies. "Samantha over-indulged a bit. I don’t think she’s ever experienced a sugar rush before," she finished, shaking her head at all the aspects of life Sam had missed out on.

A soft knock was heard at the door, and Nikita moved to answer it, smiling softly as Michael stepped in, his usual inscrutable expression in place.

"Hi Michael! I’m glad you could make it. There is one rule, though," Willow said, pointing out the sign on the table, and refusing to be intimidated when he fixed her with his dead, blank stare. He looked over at Nikita when she drove her elbow sharply into his side, then sighed, pulling a gun out of a shoulder holster and laying it on the table.

"The other ones too," Willow said pleasantly, not budging an inch. Reluctantly, Michael began pulling guns from hiding places on his body, everyone slowly turning to look as the pile on the table grew. Walter shook his head in exasperated amusement, Alex smirked, and Samantha just observed, looking like she was taking mental notes.

Finally Michael stopped, having removed every weapon imaginable. "Satisfied?" He asked Willow expressionlessly.

"Thank you!" She said, not letting him put a dent in her good mood. "Dinner’s almost ready, and there are some cookies on the table if you want to nibble on something."

Michael looked almost affronted at the word nibble. Nikita just rolled her eyes and dragged him off, leaning on his arm.

* * *

"Glad that’s over," Cordelia said. "Was that guy scary or what?"

"What do you mean was?" Xander asked, sounding a little worried. "He still is. Did you see his face? He looks like a zombie or something."

"You don’t think he is, do you?" Cordelia asked, sounding a little worried.

"No, Cordelia," Xander said impatiently. "It was just a figure of speech."

"Willow’s going to the door again. It looks like more guests are coming," Cordelia said, changing the subject.

Two people entered this time, one a tall, well-dressed man in a business suit, the other, a much shorter, red-haired woman who had a very brisk way of moving. Willow greeted them with a smile, and Xander noticed that these two seemed more uncomfortable in their surroundings than the others. They were also dressed much differently.

"Those guys are Feds," Amanda said quietly into her communicator.

"How do you know?" Buffy asked, looking at the two new arrivals and trying to see where Amanda could tell that they were specifically federal agents.

"Experience," Amanda said confidently.

"Will you two shut-up!" Giles said, sweating. "It becomes twice as hard to cover your presence if I have to draw away the sound as well."

Buffy opened her mouth to apologize, then thought better of it, exchanging a guilty glance with Amanda. The small woman pulled her single gun out of her holster without batting an eyelash, but the man with her was not nearly so complacent.

"He does not look happy," Cordelia stated as they watched the agent make emphatic, angry gestures.

* * *

"There’s no way I’m giving you my gun!" Mulder said with vehemence. "Like I’d go unarmed in the presence of that assassin!"

"Agent Mulder!" Willow said sternly. "This is going to be a nice, non-aggressive party, with no weapons. If you can’t abide by that simple rule, then you can wait outside. And there will be no insults in my home! If you can’t behave and keep your temper, I don’t want you here at all. Everyone else has disarmed themselves, now you can do us all the same courtesy."

"You’re embarrassing me," Scully hissed, glaring at him.

Finally, it was the disappointment and disgust he saw in Samantha’s face at his behavior that convinced him. Feeling vaguely ashamed and foolish, he handed over his gun.

"And the other one?" Willow asked politely.

Grumbling, Mulder pulled out the gun he kept hidden in his ankle holster and reluctantly set it on the table with the others. "Thank you," Willow said, looking at the table that was loaded to the brim with artillery. Shaking her head, she walked across the room. "Walter, could you go in and carve the turkey?"

Walter paused. "I haven’t carved a turkey in forty-odd years, Pumpkin."

Sighing, Willow turned to the only sure thing. "Agent Mulder? Would you mind terribly?"

Glad to have something to get himself away from the crowd, Mulder followed his sister into the kitchen. Willow and Nikita came in a few moments later, grabbing dishes and setting them onto the table.

"Willow?" Birkoff asked.

"Yes?"

"Where should we put the presents?"

"Oh, right! Under the tree is fine."

There was a sudden scurry as everyone in the room headed towards the tree at the same time, and Willow laughed at their ridiculous behavior. After Alex had finished placing his presents under the tree, he came up to her. "Need some help?"

"It would be nice. Just help us bring out the food. Birkoff, would you get everyone seated?"

Willow discovered that there were definite advantages to working in a government organization-almost everyone did what they were told without complaint and with a minimum of confusion. Fifteen minutes later, everyone was seated around the table with plates full of food, with only the occasional, "Pass the gravy" or "Where’d the rolls get to?" breaking the contented silence of people eating good food.

* * *

"Should we move now?" MacLeod asked Methos.

"Not yet," Methos said, waiting for the right moment. "They’re still too close to that huge pile of weapons for my comfort. We’ll wait until they move away from the table and into the living room by the tree before we strike. That way it will be much less likely that one of them will be able to reach a weapon before we have them covered."

"That turkey looks really good," Xander said wistfully, while Cordelia rolled her eyes at him.

* * *

"My God, I couldn’t eat another bite," groaned Walter as he leaned back in his chair.

"Did you like the stuffing?" Asked Samantha eagerly. "I made that stuffing all by myself!"

"Yes, we know Sam. And it was very good stuffing," said Willow, humoring her.

All together, the meal had turned out very well, despite the fact that the two chefs had mostly been working on a trial and error process. Fortunately, Samantha’s experience with following mission profiles could be transferred to following a recipe. The pastry the ambitious girl had attempted turned out a little lopsided, but everyone agreed that it was very tasty despite this.

"Present time!" Exclaimed Willow, jumping up from the table and dragging Birkoff behind her, cranking up the stereo and making him dance with her while they waited for everyone to move away from the table. Soon everyone had straggled into the living room and found seats, whether on furniture or on the floor. Willow began to pass out the presents, and even the most serious person present couldn’t resist the allure of the gaily-wrapped presents.

"Here," Willow said shyly, as she handed Birkoff the present she had picked out for him.

"Thanks," Birkoff said, as he tore off the paper and opened the box hidden within, revealing a brand-new pair of ice skates. Birkoff felt a strange emotion welling up inside of him at the present that she had obviously given a lot of thought to.

"I thought maybe we could go skating some more?" Willow said, looking at him tenderly.

"Thank you so much," Birkoff said, hugging her tightly. "I have a present for you too."

Willow opened the small box, and gasped when she saw the beautiful bracelet nestled inside. "It’s gorgeous!"

"I had it fitted to your size," Birkoff explained, taking it out of the box to put it on her wrist. "I added something special though. If you press down here, in this spot, it will emit a signal that I’ll be able to trace from anywhere. In case you ever get into trouble and need help."

"Oh, Birkoff," Willow said softly, trying hard not to burst into tears. "This means so much to me! Thank you."

Willow and Birkoff were not the only couple experiencing a tender moment. All around the room, people were hugging and opening presents, laughing at their contents. Scully watched quietly, until to her great surprise Mulder presented her with a wrapped box. "Mulder, what’s this?"

"Your present?"

She sent him a patented Scully look. "You never give me presents."

He shrugged. "Scully, I’m at a party with Alex Krycek, having a good time. If that can happen, anything can happen."

She grinned and opened the box, giving him a confused look when she saw the small golden chain resting in the cotton. Mulder said, "It’s for your cross. You’ve lost the thing so many times that I figured you’d need a gold-plated titanium chain to keep it securely around your neck."

Scully wasn’t sure what to say in response to this, so she just took her necklace off and switched the chains, smiling at Mulder when she had finished. It was such a thoughtful gift, and Scully couldn’t speak for a moment, just wordlessly handed him the present she had selected for him. Mulder smiled conspiratorially at her, looking like a little boy surrounded by discarded wrapping paper and ribbons.

When he saw what was inside, he looked questioningly at her, as confused about her gift as she had been about his. Inside the paper was an ashtray. Now, he loved the motif, with a little green alien head inlaid in the center, but he still didn’t really get the point.

"Scully," Mulder said, hoping for an explanation. "I don’t smoke."

"I know," she said, smiling widely at him. "It’s for your sunflower seeds. You leave the husks of those things everywhere. It’s disgusting. Maybe this will help you keep that under control."

The two agents smiled at each other, sharing a friendly embrace, and turning to look at what kind of presents the people around them would be getting. Michael was tricky to shop for, but Walter had selected the perfect present for him.

"It’s the newest model," Walter explained to him proudly. "Automatic focus on the scope, manual option of an activated laser aim, converted barrel for maximum firing capabilities, quick-loading ammunition cartridges, and even a grenade-launching attachment," Walter finished with a flourish, leaving Michael to explore the new capabilities on his own.

Meanwhile, Nikita was holding up what appeared to be a stuffed cow and shooting Willow a very befuddled look. "Just so you know what you’re killing with leather as your main wardrobe supplement," Willow explained from across the room. "I mean, I like the stuff too, but the trick is moderation."

Nikita couldn’t help but laugh. Right then, Samantha launched herself across the room towards Willow’s head. "You…AH!" She screamed, holding her present. Willow laughed.

"I thought you should have a copy," Willow explained. "Got it framed and everything."

Samantha took a deep breath and tried to calm down as she stared at the picture of herself being broadsided by an old lady and a bag of oranges.

"What is it?" Walter asked curiously.

"Nothing!" Samantha shouted quickly, clutching the picture to her chest, determined that no one would ever see this. "Wait a minute…what do you mean, a copy?"

"Well, I kept the original for myself," Willow explained sweetly. "If you behave, no one ever need see it."

"Why you…"

"Yes? You had something to say?" Willow asked.

"Nothing," Samantha grumbled.

"I thought so," Willow said smugly. "Did you see the other one?"

Samantha looked at Willow suspiciously for a moment, then checked the box. There was another photograph inside, this one of the two girls standing together at the Tower of London, smiling and leaning on each other.

"Thank you," she said simply.

"You’re welcome," Willow responded, reaching out to Samantha and pulling her close for a hug. Samantha extracted herself from the embrace as soon as she could, and went back to where she had been sitting a few minutes before.

Mulder looked up, surprised, as a present landed in his lap. Seeing Krycek standing in front of him, grinning at him, he was not reassured. "Will it explode?" Mulder asked sarcastically.

"Don’t be ridiculous, Mulder," Alex said scathingly. "I’m standing in the blast radius of any effective bomb. If you’re going to have paranoid delusions, at least be rational about them."

"Right," Mulder said, a half-smile on his face. "Poisoned needle then."

"Now you’re thinking."

Mulder opened the present slowly, raising his head to glare at Krycek when what was inside was revealed. Alex saw the glint of amusement in his eyes, though, and laughed at the indignant look on the agent’s face.

"I thought you could use a new pair," Alex explained, laughing softly to himself as he strolled away.

Mulder transferred his glare to the shiny new pair of handcuffs. When Scully leaned over him to see what it was, she burst into loud, unrestrained laughter. Mulder was sorry he had given in and explained the whole handcuff story to her now, as she was clearly enjoying this way too much.

As everyone else was finishing opening their last few presents, Willow checked under the tree one more time, pulling out a medium sized box and frowning. "That wasn’t there before," she muttered. When she checked who it was for, she became even more confused. The only thing written on the tag was the name Alexei.

"This one is labeled with your name, Alex," Willow said as she handed him the box. "It doesn’t say who it’s from, though."

Looking around at everyone in turn, they each shook their heads in denial as he met their eyes. Looking a little disturbed, he opened the box, shocked speechless at what was inside.

"A stuffed animal?" Willow asked, not sure why someone would anonymously send Alex an old, ragged stuffed bear.

"It was my favorite toy as a child," Alex said quietly, too soft for anyone besides Walter and Willow to hear, who were sitting on either side of him. "I lost it when the terrorists grabbed me when I was six. A few weeks later, Section liberated me from them, and I began my training there, someone deciding that a child raised from a young age would make a more effective operative later. I don’t know where this could have come from."

Seeing the almost scared look in Alex’s eyes, Walter almost regretted doing as Madeline had asked and slipping the present in with the others. He supposed she had a right to give it to him if she wanted, however, and knew that it wasn’t his place to interfere. Luckily, Willow had also noticed the deeply disturbed look on Alex’s face and had taken action, placing the toy back in the box and pulling him off of the floor. "I need a dancing partner," she said. "Birkoff tries, but he just doesn’t get the rhythm of the Russians."

After a few moments, Alex was twirling and spinning a laughing Willow around the room, the strange gift temporarily forgotten. Walter wondered off-handedly how that little girl managed to do things like that, then forgot the situation himself as he saw Samantha watching the other couples dancing from the corner with interest. "Wanna take a spin around the dance floor with an old man?" He asked the girl, and she slowly took his hand and followed him to the middle of the room.

* * *

"Am I the only one noticing that all these people are extremely buff?" Asked Cordelia absent-mindedly.

"I don’t see anything special," Xander said in a deliberately off-handed tone of voice. "My build is at least as good as anyone there."

"Oh, sure," Cordelia scoffed. "Maybe in your fantasies. I’m talking about real life here. Heck, Willow has a better build than you."

"Actually, Willow’s got a really good build. She’s all muscle. When did that happen?"

"I don’t know, but I know that even her slightly computer-geek looking boyfriend has more muscle than you do."

"Would you two please stop the running commentary and say something useful?" Methos’ voice said.

"Oh, right. Well, they seem to have finished opening presents and are all dancing around the mess. It’s actually really cute."

"Good," Methos said. "The music might cover our entrance long enough to get everything under control. We’re going to move up to the door of the apartment. Amanda, Buffy, get ready to move from your end. Xander and Cordelia, let us know if the situation changes at all."

Xander and Cordelia exchanged worried glances, then concentrated on the scene in the other apartment.

* * *

Skinner was getting fed-up with sitting out in this car with these babbling idiots who refused to shut-up. He sat in he driver’s seat, having taken over the car over the grumbles of the Gunmen earlier. He adjusted the focus of his field binoculars at the apartment that Mulder and Scully had entered several hours ago once more, and sighed with disgust.

"This is a waste of time!" Skinner said. "It’s a Christmas party. There’s nothing wrong here, and I suggest in the future, you gentlemen try to keep your paranoid ramblings away from my office!"

"But…we know there’s something going on here!" Langley insisted.

"I’m telling you, there’s no secret government agencies at work here, no conspiracy to cover up the truth, and nothing at all to do with aliens. I get enough of that having to deal with Mulder at work, I don’t need you dragging it into my vacations as well."

"But…" Frohike began, interrupted at once by Skinner.

"No! There is absolutely nothing sinister going on here!" Skinner began, getting warmed up for a really good tirade, when movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. "What the…"

Five men dressed in gear suitable for combat, several armed, began to stealthily enter the apartment complex.

"Ha!" shouted Byers triumphantly. "We knew it!"

"Oh, shut up," Skinner growled, pulling out his side arm and exiting the car quietly. "Come on, we’ve got to get into position to help them."

The three men looked at him wide-eyed. "What?" Byers asked, startled. "We can’t go in there, those guys have guns!"

"Exactly! And two of my agents are in there right now being stalked by those men with guns. Now come on!" At Skinner’s commanding bark, the Gunmen scurried out of the car, and huddled together tightly as they followed Skinner into the building.

* * *

Birkoff spun Willow past the ornamental screen in the corner and for the third time that night, Willow shivered. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say there was a weird energy coming from that screen. But every time she convinced herself to check it out, she’d laugh at her own paranoia and continue dancing. Still, it was kind of strange…

Her wandering thoughts were interrupted as with a loud crash, the door burst open in mid-song, and armed men poured through it, training their weapons on the people dancing within. Two people also emerged from behind the large ornamental screen in the corner, armed with what appeared to be a crossbow and a set of throwing knives. Before the armed attackers could even blink, however, Alex had launched himself into a low, rolling somersault that propelled him straight across the room to the weapons table, grabbing a gun and throwing it to Nikita, then taking one for himself. He was slightly shocked when he realized that Willow also had gotten a hold of a gun that had flown across the room into her hands. Michael also had a gun in hand, produced from God-knows-where on his body. Both sides seemed to be yelling things like "Stand down!" and "Put away your guns!" Samantha, who had been near the screen when the assault began, lashed out with her foot in a blindingly fast move, kicking the crossbow out of one of their attacker’s hands, sending it flying into her own grasp. Sam looked at the strange weapon in the midst of the chaos with utter confusion. What had she been planning to do with this?

When both sides realized that neither had the advantage, silence fell over the group. Willow took the silence to turn to Michael, who was nearby, and mutter briefly, "How many guns do you carry?"

"Enough," was his short reply.

Turning back to the strangers in her apartment, Willow took a good look at them, then stopped in confusion. "Wait a sec…" She turned the safety on her gun, then lowered it. "Buffy?!"

At the girl’s nod, Willow smiled, then frowned again, still confused. "What in the hell are you doing here and why are you pointing weapons at my friends?"

"We came to rescue you," Buffy said petulantly, still rubbing her wrist and glaring at the elegant girl who had disarmed her so efficiently. "These people kidnapped you!"

Willow laughed, then realized that her Section friends were staring at her. "You know these people?" Alex asked finally.

Willow nodded. "Most of them at least. Go ahead and put down your weapons. They won’t hurt you."

No one moved, though, and Willow began to worry a little. "These people are pointing guns at us. Among other weapons," Alex acknowledged. "You can’t just expect us to blindly trust them."

"No, what was I thinking?" Willow muttered to herself. "Come on guys, someone has to put their weapons down, or we’ll be here all night."

The standoff continued, and Willow began to get annoyed. Why did these people have to be so damn stubborn? She glared at both sides, putting on her best resolve face. "I want both sides to put down their weapons right now, before I get very, very angry," she said in a low, menacing tone. "Or I won’t be responsible for what I do."

Both sides eyed each other warily, neither willing to give up their advantage, not sure what the other side had planned. Willow sighed. "Fine then, be that way." Reaching inside herself, she grabbed a hold of all of the weapons in the room with her mind and threw them up to the ceiling, holding them there with relative ease. "There now, that’s better. Back to explanations. What’s this about me being kidnapped?"

"These idiots here had some kind of lame-brained plan to rescue you, Red," Spike’s mocking voice was heard from behind Riley where he had hidden himself. "I had nothing to do with it."

"Why you back-stabbing little…" Riley trailed off, not able to come up with a bad enough insult. Willow grinned as she heard Spike’s distinctive voice, though, glad for someone who was a little less emotionally involved in the situation.

"Rescue me from what? My life?" She asked, genuinely curious. "And how did you even come to the conclusion that I was alive? Didn’t I blow up?"

"Cordelia had a vision, but that’s not important now," Buffy said dismissively, ignoring the indignant squeak in her ear. "What is your problem anyway? We worked hard to figure this all out and get here to save you. You’d think you could show a little gratitude."

"What are you talking about?" Samantha said with hostility in her voice. "Willow has a good life here with us. Besides which, even if we were holding her against her will, she’s more than capable of taking care of herself and wouldn’t need you incompetents to save her."

"Why you…" Buffy growled, advancing towards Samantha.

"Oh, yeah," Samantha growled back. "Let’s go, Blondie."

"Samantha, Buffy," Willow glared at both of them, trying to hide her distress. "Knock it off." Turning back to Buffy, she said, "She’s right though. I do have a good life here, and I don’t need you to rescue me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to see you and everything, except that now you’re probably all really screwed, but you should have left things alone."

"Willow, what are you saying?" Buffy asked, sounding confused. "We came to bring you back home, where you belong. I don’t know what these people have done to you, but it’s obviously affected your judgement. Now, come on, let’s go, stop being such a baby and let us take care of this."

"Oh, she’s not going to take that well," Xander muttered to Cordelia.

Xander was right. Willow’s face was already getting a very strange look on it. "You…you…prokleenaht nyegodyay! Prostitootka! Styerva! Yob tvoyu mat!"

"Um, I don’t think that’s physically possible," Methos pointed out, while Alex was beaming at Willow proudly. Looks like all those pronunciation lessons had finally come in handy.

"Sure it is, it’s just really gross," Angel chimed in. "I didn’t know you spoke Russian, Willow."

The redhead blushed when she realized people besides Alex understood the string of really dirty expletives she had been yelling at her old friend. "It’s um, a recent development," she muttered. She turned back to Buffy, her anger returning. "I’m not a child Buffy, and I don’t need you to take care of anything for me! I don’t know who you think you are, bursting into my life after practically six months and treating me like the same helpless girl you always thought I was, but surprise, I’m not about to sit here and take your patronization anymore!" Sighing, she softened her tone. "I realize that you probably had good intentions, but you have no idea what you’ve stumbled into here."

"Um, is it an ultra-secret anti-terrorist organization called Section One that is responsible for stopping terrorist attacks in all corners of the world that would stop at nothing to keep it’s existence a secret, thus putting all of us in terrible, mortal danger? Am I close?" Methos asked, keeping a straight face as jaws dropped around the room. Only Michael and Alex managed to give nothing away, but they had more practice than anyone else there from Section.

"Ok," Willow acknowledged, "I guess you do know what you’ve stumbled into."

"But if that’s the case, why in the hell were they foolish enough to come?" Asked Nikita.

"We couldn’t just let these people get away with taking Willow captive," Xander’s voice was heard from near the door, slightly out of breath from the run up the stairs with Giles and Cordelia. "We had to make sure she was alright once we found out she was alive."

"And you’ve probably been watching the entire evening, right? Now, honestly, did I look to be in any sort of danger? I was dancing. I’m sure that’s a lethal activity, and that’s why you decided to try and burst in here like cowboys on steroids, right?" Willow said sarcastically, coming close to yelling.

"I don’t know!" Xander yelled back. "We just had to be sure, ok? We thought you were dead, Wills! Do you know how that felt?"

She stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "I guess not," she admitted softly. "But it still wasn’t a very well thought out plan."

"Hey!" Methos said indignantly.

Just then, Skinner and the Lone Gunmen burst into the room. "FBI! Freeze!" Skinner yelled. "I’ve got a gun!"

"What else isn’t new?" Willow muttered, mentally taking away his gun too. He stepped all the way into the room in surprise, followed closely by the Lone Gunmen, and suddenly there was a blinding flash of light and a loud noise. Several people cried out, and when everyone opened their eyes they found that they were no longer in the apartment they had been standing in only a moment before. Now, they were standing in what appeared to be an expensive lawyer’s office, blank white walls ending about ten feet up with nothing but stars above them. A large wooden desk was in front of the group, and behind this sat what could only be described as a quintessential lawyer, dressed in an Armani suit. The man appeared to be perfectly normal in every respect, until one looked at his eyes. Reflected in them could be seen a glittering expanse of stars, never-ending and extending to infinity.

"Good evening," the man said calmly. "Now that you’re all here, the game can begin."

Part Nine

Naturally, Methos was the first to recover. "What’s going on here?" He asked the strange man.

"Patience. All will be explained. Please, have a seat," The man said, waving his hand as twenty-four chairs appeared in front of his desk in a large semi-circle. Everyone simply stared at him unblinkingly, not

moving a muscle.

"All will be explained?!" Exclaimed Mulder impatiently. "I want an explanation now!"

"You’ll get one, Agent Mulder," the man responded, seemingly completely unaffected by the outburst. "I trust that when I have revealed everything, I will have convinced you as to my sincerity. Hopefully, I can be persuasive enough to satisfy even the skeptical Dr. Scully."

"How do you know our names?" Scully demanded, her stance aggressive in the face of this strange situation. "How did we get to this place? Last I knew, we were in Nikita’s apartment, and had just been attacked by this rag-tag gang over there."

"I beg your pardon!" Methos cut in indignantly. "We were running a precise operation, and would have been in control in another second if Mr. Mysterious here hadn’t zapped us to Never-Never Land and saved your American butts."

At this, the two groups faced off, glaring at each other. Skinner and the Lone Gunmen had joined Mulder’s side, but were looking very confused and lost. Skinner in particular was glaring at Alex Krycek with a mixture of rage and bafflement crossing his face. Alex and Michael both looked vaguely insulted.

"American?!" Alex said, as Michael nodded emphatically in agreement. "I hardly think so!"

"Enough!" An authoritative voice boomed out, and the room immediately fell into a respectful silence in response. There had been an echo of power in the voice that came from behind the desk, and no one dared to challenge it. "This petty squabbling will stop now. All of you will be on the same side from now on. Either you will learn to work together smoothly as a unit and trust each other, or the universe as you know it will come to an abrupt and violent end."

At that statement, the man’s mouth curved up slightly into an ironic smile, as if he knew exactly how impossible that would be to the people gathered together in the room. Although the initial response of those listening had been to scoff at the dramatic statement, something in his voice held their attention, and made it impossible to doubt the truth of it.

"Now that I have your attention..." He said, in a very sarcastic tone of voice. "There are a few things that will need to be explained. To begin with, I suppose I should tell you the rules. During the game, there will be specific boundaries. Any attempt to cross these boundaries will result in penalties for your entire team. Your home base will be determined when you arrive at your destination, and the opposing team will have similar base facilities. There will be a clear chain of command. All battles will take place only on the designated board. In a moment, handicaps and bonuses will be dealt with. In the meantime..."

"Ummm," a diffident voice was heard, interrupting the speaker. "Question?"

Everyone stared, as Willow sat up straight in her chair, hand raised respectfully. Everyone else shifted restlessly in their chairs, the spell of his voice broken. Suddenly, they were wondering why they were listening to this crackpot. The impeccably dressed man raised his eyebrows in a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Yes?"

"Ummm, I don’t mean to seem like I haven’t been paying attention or anything, but...what are you talking about?"

"I thought I had made that clear," he responded, a touch of impatience entering his voice. "The group of you will be my representatives in a contest. You will be facing an equally skilled and resourceful group of opponents, who are the representatives of my counterpart. At the moment, the universe exists in a state of chaos due to the actions of a certain individual."

At this point in his recital, the man paused to glare at Methos, who just stared back at him, completely lost, but troubled by strange stirrings of recognition inside himself. "As I was saying, right now, existence is torn between two opposite forces, Good and Evil. These forces are in direct competition and every day, the same battle is fought. But that is not how it was supposed to be.

"You see, when the universe was created, it was at the whim of one being who already existed, and quite frankly, was bored. So, in a giant explosion of matter, this being sat back to watch creation take shape. After the initial blast, this entity did not interfere in things, instead, only observing the planets and stars take shape. When the amino acids actually combined in the precise sequence necessary to create life, the watching entity was as surprised as anyone. Only on this planet did that unlikely chain of events take place, and its attention was held, spellbound, as more and more complex life forms began to emerge. It seemed like only a metaphorical blink of the eye had passed to the ageless being, but soon, upright creatures had begun to shamble across the earth.

"It was very soon afterwards, that an event occurred which rocked the cosmos. A new creature emerged, a completely different form of life, unlike anything that had ever existed before. This was the first human being. Suddenly, there was a creature that had the capacity of thought necessary to reach depths of awareness none other could fathom. This being possessed, and first time understood the potential of free-will, and with this capacity, there came into existence, the concepts of Good and Evil. At this point, the being who had watched the proceedings with great interest, was split. This entity had never been formed of substance, but of thought, energy, and most importantly, its own will. Suddenly, with these new thoughts, there were two wills, and these would be forever and irrevocably in conflict.

"Able to communicate, but by their own uncompromising natures unable to reach any sort of agreement, they decided that their existence could only be resolved by a competition. The loser would cease to exist, thus again leaving only one awareness behind."

"Wait a minute," Methos interrupted, rubbing his forehead. "Playing along for the moment...if humanity was such a problem, why were we allowed to keep on existing? Why not just blink us out?"

"You were allowed to exist, because it would have been impossible to do otherwise. Nothing can be obliterated without its own consent. And humanity has a very strong survival instinct. Especially you."

"I get the feeling you don’t like me much. What did I ever do to you?"

"Don’t you get it yet?" Alex asked, something close to awe in his voice.

"Get what?" Methos snapped, aware that he was missing something important, but not able to guess what it was. Everyone else in the room stared uncomprehending at Alex.

"You were the first."

"Well, the first that counted," Good corrected. "You were the one who had the capacity for what I have described to you. Of course, there were other upright walkers before you, but these were primitive creatures, and never had the understanding or morality that is present in modern humans. All others followed you."

"That’s not possible," Methos protested. "Homo sapiens has been around for nearly 30,000 years."

"I thought you were only 5,000?" Amanda asked, entering the conversation for the first time.

"I am."

"Well, we blurred things a bit for you and the other as well. An understanding had been reached between my opposite and I, and when the conditions had been met, we would take our representatives and decide matters once and for all. Things took a very long while to set up, however, and while we waited for everyone needed to arrive, you had to remain. As the one who unbalanced everything, it could only be through you that things would be set right. That many years would have been too many for even you to carry, however, so as time went by, I lifted the memories that would make it possible for you to go on. At the same time, Evil was doing the same thing to the other. As the people I was waiting for began to appear, they were preserved as well, either through the Immortality we had given to you, or some other means."

"Who is this ‘other’ you keep talking about?" Methos asked suspiciously.

"I was getting to that. It was decided that the opposing teams would be led by one who was completely good on the one side, and completely evil on the other. So, to satisfy both requirements, you were chosen by both sides to lead the teams. In essence, you were split. One, you, became the embodiment of all good. Your other half became your opposite, and represented all evil."

"How is that possible?" MacLeod asked, almost scornfully. "Methos has done terrible things. He killed thousands of people."

"First of all, you are going to have to lose that judgmental, superior attitude if you are going to advance to the final levels of the game. Second of all, Methos has never killed except in self-defense, which was a mechanism built into him so that he would be assured of surviving to today, or in defense of another that he cared about. It was his other half, closely connected to him that rode with the Four Horsemen and committed those atrocities. The two of them often touch glimpses of each other’s minds, thus confusing both of them. We couldn’t completely prevent these brushes, so they become false memories. Many memories that Methos believes are his own really come from the experiences of his other."

"So, when does the fighting begin? And who are these enemies that we are supposed to face?" Alex asked, as Methos seemed to withdraw into himself, trying to absorb everything he had been told.

"Funny you asked," Good said, with a sardonic twist to his lips. "We have an appointment to keep, right about...now."

* * *

When the group reappeared, they found that their surroundings had changed once again. Instead of a lawyer’s office, they now found themselves situated on a chessboard. As everyone blinked in confusion and tried to regain their bearings, they looked up to find another group ranged against them on the opposite side of the board looking just as confused as they did.

The figure they had come to recognize as Good stood in the center row facing a mirror image of himself. Their clothes were the only things that differed. Both suits were black and white, but each piece was the opposite of the other. Where one jacket was white, the other was black, and so on throughout the outfit.

At first, the two crowds of people had not spent much time studying each other, but now, as they looked more closely at each other, people began to recognize familiar faces ranged against them. Alex growled softly in the back of his throat as he noticed his nemesis. The Smoking Man, for once caught without a cigarette, stood looking back at him, off-balance, but still surrounded by his customary cloud of menace. Another person he saw was Marita Covarrubias, the woman who had deceived him and almost gotten him killed by betraying him to the Consortium.

Mulder and Scully, standing close together in uncertainty, only grew more confused as they absorbed who they would be fighting against. Scully scowled as she saw Agent Fowley, who was smirking at her. Mulder could not believe his eyes when he caught sight of the well-manicured British man that he would have sworn had died in a car explosion.

Buffy was seeing familiar faces as well. The sinister form of Adam was recognized at once, and Buffy felt a thread of fear running through her at the thought of facing off against him. Turning away from him, she felt the inevitable blind rage course in her blood the sight of the rogue slayer. Faith was standing there with her usual contemptuous attitude, and as their eyes met, Buffy’s eyes narrowed, while Faith’s smile widened in appreciation of the contest that was to come. Buffy also glimpsed the dreamy but deadly vampire, Drusilla, and wondered how Angel would take this development. The last person she saw that she knew made her roll her eyes in annoyance. Ethan Raines never failed to turn their lives upside down, and Buffy was not looking forward to this encounter any more than any of the previous ones.

Nikita tried to keep herself from reacting when she saw Madeline and Operations standing among their enemies. She was not at all sure what reaction Michael would have to this. He had never been devoted to them, but obedience had been ingrained into him, and she hoped he would be able to handle their new status. George was also standing amongst the people at the other end of the board, and she glared at him. Ever since he had sent her on the suicide mission to kill Operations, who may or may not be her father, she could only look at him with hostility. She caught sight of another familiar pair, that she fondly referred to as the ‘torture twins’ in the privacy of her own thoughts. You never saw one without the other, and the level of their creepiness was immense, even in Section.

The bizarre figure they all noticed, however, was the twin of Methos who was standing opposite the Methos they all knew, staring at his other. The two of them just glared into each other’s eyes, trembling with strain. Obviously, the close proximity was affecting them, and the watchers could not tell if they were shaking because they wanted to launch themselves at each other and tear each others’ throats out or if they were keeping themselves from running away from the strange confrontation that was taking place.

Good turned away from his double and toward his team. "The time has come for final touch-ups to each team. First of all, the Wild Card players."

"Each team was designed for one more person, but they died before the appropriate time. Balance must be achieved; to this purpose we each claim an additional player."

Power radiated from each figure, each the same excepting the fact that one was darkness and one was light. As the waves of power met, two figures slowly materialized. MacLeod narrowed his eyes in disgust when he recognized the person who had joined the other side, his enemy Kronos. But his thoughts of malice were promptly interrupted by a high pitched scream and a figure rushing past him in a blur of expensive fabric and long brown hair.

"DOYLE!" Cordelia screamed, throwing herself in the arms of her friend. The man, who seemed completely lost and dazed, slowly put his arms around her.

"Um...good to see you too, Cordelia," he said, more than a little confused. "Uh...Angel?" He asked, catching sight of his old boss, who was actually smiling at the sight of him. "Would ye mind telling me what’s going on?"

Angel was about to answer when Good interrupted impatiently. "Enough! Save this for a later time! There is more to be dealt with!"

Cordelia reluctantly stepped back, grasping Doyle’s hand and dragging him back to the line. Good waited until they blended with the rest of the group, then said, "Now, because Kronos will exist at a higher level of play than Doyle, my side will make up the difference in another compensation to one of my players."

At this, Alex quickly tore off his prosthetic limb with a shout, and watched speechlessly as a new arm grew in place of the one he had lost in Russia. Flexing his arm, and clenching his fist in disbelief, he could only stare at his new arm in shock. Nikita ran up to him with a cry of joy, and held his hand with a huge smile, before throwing her arms around him in a big hug.

"Alex!" Willow shouted, eager to get the second hug in. "This is great!"

"Yeah," Birkoff added, not as comfortable with words and emotions as Willow, but overjoyed that his surrogate brother was finally whole again.

"Just when I had gotten used to my fake arm too," Alex said jokingly, trying to hide his emotion. "I had just added the new custom-made poisoned dart attachment."

"We can change it back if you’d like," Good cut in, smirking.

"Um, that’s ok," Alex said quickly. "I’m sure I’ll get used to it again somehow."

"Good. Now that that’s settled, there is one more matter to deal with. There are two members of my team who are not yet acceptable in the forms that they currently hold. At the same time, two of my counterparts players are trapped in an alternate dimension, and will need to be brought across to this one."

Again, the glow emanated from the two figures, this time forming two columns of light on each side. On the good side, these columns formed over Angel and Spike, bathing them in soft, golden light. On the evil side, the two columns formed over empty spaces, and two figures appeared in their centers. As the light dissipated, two leather-clad creatures remained, and Xander and Willow stared as they saw their vampire doubles standing on the opposite side of the board. As the light disappeared from Angel and Spike, however, it took something from each of them with it. A darkness could be seen inside of the light, and as it vanished, a high-pitched demonic cry could be heard.

"The demonic sides of your nature have been removed. It no longer has any power over you. Your souls have been restored, this time with no conditions added. For the purposes of balance within this game, you will retain your vampire strength, but will no longer be vulnerable to the weaknesses of vampires, such as an aversion to sunlight, and vulnerability to the cross and holy water."

Angel, who had already been through several similar experiences, took it fairly well. Spike, on the other hand, was somewhat confused. "But...I’m all bloody soulful now?! Do I have to lurk and be a bloody poof like him?" Then, as he realized he wasn’t being any different, he calmed down. "Oh. Never mind."

"Well, that just brings us to the last few things you need to know. First off, although you were created with a specific purpose in mind, that being Good or Evil, you all have the option of choosing your way," Good said.

"You are free to switch sides whenever you like during the game, but you must deal with the consequences of doing such that will most likely be inflicted upon you by your new teammates, for no matter what, you must play in the game," Evil finished.

"When we leave, this board will expand and bases will be set up on either side of the board. These are where you will train and rest. They are completely vulnerable, but in order to attack them you must make it through all of the obstacles in-between each base, including the center two rows, which are designated non-fighting zones between yourselves and are where we have free reign with you. These are the only areas we are allowed to interfere directly."

"If a person dies, the normal rules of chess apply. If you can get one member of your team to the opposite end of the board, you may regain one member of your team. This is the only way the dead will rejoin you," Evil finished up.

"The first-in-command of my team is Methos, and his lieutenant will be Alexei Krycek. All other positions will become apparent in good time."

"The leader of my team is also Methos, with Madeline as his second-in-command."

Both figures fell silent, and then Good said formally. "We wish you luck."

"Be assured that we are watching," added Evil before both of them disappeared. Just as suddenly, the board began to stretch and things began to grow on it. The opposing team fell out of sight and the group was left in front of a long, strange shaped building, wondering what to do.

Part Ten

"Ooookay," said Methos after everyone had stood around outside the building they had been transported to for awhile. "I guess I’m in charge. Let’s...all go inside and figure out what we’re doing."

Everyone began to shuffle inside, mostly for lack of anything better to do with themselves. The main doorway that they had been placed in front of turned out to be an entrance to the Sunnydale High library.

Birkoff noticed that Willow seemed a little confused and troubled by this fact. "What’s wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. We just blew this up almost two years ago now."

"Oh," he replied, as if this made perfect sense. Then he did a double take. "Hey, wha...?"

"This is incredible!" Giles enthused, examining the library closely for any signs of an explosion. "These beings have unimaginable power. This location must have been removed from some type of parallel universe incredibly similar to our own, but where the explosion never took place. Just fascinating."

"Um, yeah," Methos said, giving Giles a strange look. "Now, though, I think we should be concentrating on our next move. Obviously if we’re going to survive this, we need a plan."

"What did you have in mind?" Alex asked, looking forward to having some kind of order in his life again.

"Hey, just a minute here," MacLeod interrupted belligerently. "Why should you be in charge? There are much more qualified people for leadership here. Not to mention, I don’t completely buy into that whole evil twin story. It’s just a little too convenient."

"You need a reason to follow his leadership?" Alex asked with a mix of incredulity and scorn apparent in his voice. "How about the omniscient, god-like being that controls all of our fates told you to. I’d think that reason would be good enough. Even for someone as obviously pig-headed and ignorant as yourself."

"Why you..." MacLeod had to be held back by Michael and Nikita as he lunged towards Alex. After a moment, a very surprised MacLeod found himself sprawled on the floor as Michael looked down at him with cold, expressionless eyes.

In a moment, however, Michael found himself on the floor next to MacLeod, as Amanda caught him squarely with a powerful roundhouse kick. As she glared down at the person who had dared to attack her man, Nikita, not about to take that kind of treatment to Michael, moved in to face off against Amanda.

"Alright," Nikita growled in her unidentifiable accent. "You wanna try that with someone who doesn’t have their back turned?"

"Anytime," Amanda said, narrowing her eyes at this presumptuous mortal challenging her.

"Enough!" Methos interrupted, stepping between the two women. "If we are going to make it here, we can’t be fighting amongst ourselves. Now cut it out."

Amanda and Nikita reluctantly relaxed, glaring at each other as they went to help their respective boyfriends up.

"Connasse," Amanda muttered under her breath, still holding a grudge.

"What did you say?" Nikita demanded.

"Nothing," Amanda responded sweetly.

"I speak French you know," Nikita said harshly, but just got an innocent smile from Amanda, as MacLeod and Michael tried to keep the women apart, their own disagreements forgotten for the moment. Everyone else warily eyeing the two women, they cautiously edged away from the confrontation.

"Time to get organized," Methos continued briskly, ignoring the friction. "We need to split up and explore this building. From what I saw of the outside, there is much more to this structure than what we’ve seeing so far. I’ll divide everyone into teams, and you’ll go out from here and gather some information. I’ll stay here with a few other people to get your reports. Now, you’re Alexei?"

"Yes," Alex responded, stepping forward.

"Good. You’ll stay here with me, and help me pick teams to send out. You know some of these people and I don’t, so I’ll need your input."

"We’ll send out five teams to start off with. MacLeod, Amanda, Giles and Spike will be one team. Alex, pick another."

"Alright, Nikita, Michael, and one more pair."

"Cordelia and Doyle, you’re with them," Methos put in smoothly. "Xander, and a few others who are combat capable."

"Hey!" Xander protested indignantly.

"Put Willow and Samantha with him, he’ll be fine. Birkoff, you’re with them, too. Hmmm, Lone Gunmen, Skinner, and someone to keep them out of trouble."

"Angel will get that done," Methos added, ignoring Skinner’s glare.

"I guess that leaves Mulder, Scully, and Walter," Alex said, finishing up.

"And Buffy and Riley on my end," Methos said. "Alright, anyone that’s left, you’re our final team."

"Excuse me?" Buffy interrupted sharply. "I don’t like this arrangement at all. What if we’re walking into a dangerous situation here? I’m not letting my friends go off into trouble without me there to protect them."

"Um, Buffy, we kind of do that all the time," Xander said, feeling a little insulted.

"Yeah, and look at all the trouble you get into," Buffy pointed out with superiority.

"What are you talking about?" Willow asked testily. "I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now, and I am fully capable of looking out for myself. And Xander, too."

"Hey!"

"Well, I don’t think so. In fact, I refuse to go along with this whole thing. Either I’m going with Willow and Xander to make sure they’re alright, or I won’t go at all."

Exchanging long looks, Alex and Methos finally nodded reluctantly. "I suppose that will be ok," Methos conceded. That makes a team of Willow, Birkoff, Sam, Xander, and Buffy. Riley, Mulder, Scully, and Walter, you’re a team as well."

Riley, not happy about being separated from Buffy, but too used to the military chain of command to argue, went along with the arrangement. As the teams set out in the directions assigned to them, Methos and Krycek set about turning the library into a proper command center.

* * *

As they exited the library through a door that had never existed there before, Willow’s team found themselves speechless as they walked right into an apartment building.

"Hey!" Willow exclaimed, excited. "My apartment! Cool."

Samantha looked around warily, not sure how they had gotten here from wherever they had been. Xander, not nearly as concerned, sauntered over to the table and started nibbling on some snacks left over from the party.

"I’m gonna change," Willow announced. "I’m not wandering around all day in this outfit. It was fine for a party, but now we might be seeing action."

"Me too," Samantha said, relieved. "Could I borrow something?"

"Sure. In fact, I think you might’ve left something here last time you came over," Willow’s voice trailed off as they left the room, heading into her bedroom, leaving Buffy, Xander, and Birkoff standing uncomfortably outside.

* * *

Michael and Nikita were highly unimpressed by the training facilities in the Dojo they found next door to the strange library they had been in, but realized that this was probably where they were stuck training for the time being. While they were busy planning out sparring couples and routines, Cordelia and Doyle were occupied with something else...

"Doyle, I’m so glad you’re back! It was so awful when you died!" Cordelia said as she hugged Doyle yet again.

Doyle, enjoying the attention, hugged her back. "It’s ok, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be fine."

Michael and Nikita tried to ignore the young couple as they went about their highly sappy reunion, but their attention was suddenly drawn to the other two when the resounding crack of skin being slapped against skin filled the air. Turning towards their companions, they were extremely surprised to see Cordelia facing Doyle with an angry expression on her face and Doyle holding his cheek in pain.

"HOW could you leave me like that?!" She yelled.

* * *

"It’s exceedingly weird, having them here," Willow said as she buttoned her tight black leather pants.

"I can see where it would be," Samantha answered neutrally. "I mean, you used to be their friend, and now you’re ours. They think they can just pick things up and everything will be like it was, but it doesn’t work like that. You moved on."

Willow shot her a weird look as she was looking at her shirt selection. "Well, that’s getting ahead of yourself. Just because I’m now friends with you guys now, it doesn’t mean that I’m not friends with them anymore. It’s just weird because I thought I’d never see them again. I had gotten used to my two separate lives."

"But...she’s such a bitch."

Willow was torn between defending Buffy and laughing. "She has her moments," she admitted finally. "But she’s not like that all the time. She’s just used to being in charge and the best at what she does."

"Bet I could kick her ass," Samantha said sulkily.

Willow rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Sam." She selected a red leather halter-top and pulled it over her head, turning around so Samantha could zip it.

"Nice outfit," Samantha said as she zipped it up. "We picked this one up in Paris, didn’t we?"

"Yeah, at that weird little S&M shop. Remember how creeped out Birky was?"

"Uh huh," Samantha responded, laughing. "Then there was that hilarious porno tape series ‘The Adventures of Sebastian: Discovering Your Sexual Self’. Man, was that a crazy afternoon."

Willow laughed. "We creeped Birkoff out so bad he wouldn’t even kiss me for a week! But then, that was the whole point." She pulled on a silver pentacle necklace and a matching bracelet, then grabbed a hair tie as she began to French braid her hair. Samantha, who had finished dressing in a simpler outfit, utilitarian camouflage pants, and a black sleeveless tank top, along with a pair of tough combat boots to finish off her ensemble, waited impatiently for Willow to finish her hair.

Willow laughed at her expression and finished quickly, pulling on her own matching black boots as they headed out to the main room. When they walked in, Birkoff saw the shirt she was wearing and starting laughing at the memory it triggered, leaving Xander and Buffy completely confused as Willow and Samantha joined him.

Amazing how she could even make army issue camouflage pants look good, Xander thought to himself, his attention split between the outrageous outfit Willow was wearing, and the hot girl she was with. Buffy, however, did not have the distraction to temper her reaction to Willow’s apparel, though.

"What is that?" Buffy spluttered, unable to believe Willow would wear something like that. Buffy herself, maybe, but Willow? Never!

Willow made an exasperated sound in the back of her throat as she walked over to the weapons table, picking up a silver dagger and a small gun and putting them in two ankle holsters in her boots, then picking up her normal gun and holding it comfortably. "An outfit. Perfectly acceptable and good for maneuvering if need be. Now can we go? I think it’s safe to say that this is just my apartment in the same discombobulated state that we left it in."

After giving Willow a meaningful look at Buffy’s reaction to her clothes, Samantha ignored Buffy’s existence, arming herself and then turning to go out the door.

"And you!" Buffy said with hostility to Samantha. "Where are you going? I haven’t said if we should continue this patrol or not yet."

"Really," Samantha said softly, as she turned around slowly to face Buffy. Willow started rubbing her forehead, sensing the headache that was coming on. "And what makes you think I need your permission, princess?"

"I should think you’d listen to me, since I probably have more fighting experience than anyone else in this room. Not to mention the fact that I’m the Slayer. It’s my job to handle situations like this."

Birkoff and Samantha burst out laughing at that, while Willow looked like she wanted to, but was sparing Buffy’s feelings. "More experience?" Samantha said incredulously. "I had more fighting experience by the time I was five than you do. Even Birkoff has more combat experience than you do, and he’s a systems analyst!"

"I think this would be the time to move on..." Willow started.

"You might have been in more brawls, which I actually doubt, but you have no comprehension of the kind of threats I face down on a regular basis. You are a child compared to me! Have you ever looked a demon in the eye and then fought it for the fate of humanity? I don’t think so!"

"Well, I am not impressed!" Samantha shot back, incensed. "When you have spent your entire life saving lives from terrorist organizations bent on taking over the world and killing innocent people, then you can talk to me about combat experience, you...you...sukin sin!!!"

Xander looked confused at that, while Buffy was too mad to even register the fact that she had just been insulted in a foreign language. Seeing Xander’s lost look, Willow explained, "Samantha is Asian based in languages," she said softly. "She speaks four different dialects of Chinese alone. I’m pretty sure that was one of them."

"Oh," Xander said. "Um, do you think we should break those two up? They look like they’re about to start doing some serious bodily harm there."

"No, I think we can wait a few minutes more," Birkoff said, watching the fight with interest. "Samantha hasn’t completely snapped yet."

By then, the two girls had progressed to screaming insults at each other, Samantha having the advantage in the sheer volume of languages she spoke, while Buffy, used to hanging out around the nasty parts of town that demons frequented, had picked up a few street insults along the way, was holding her own.

Samantha, red in the face, and loosing the last shreds of her temper, didn’t even notice at first when the tendrils of electricity starting curling around her fingers. Then, as the charge began to build, she pulled up her hands to a striking position, and aimed them in Buffy’s direction, pushed past her breaking point by this arrogant little girl.

"Samantha!" Willow said sternly as she smacked her friend’s hand down. "What do you think you’re doing?"

"But...but...she started it!"

"Not a word!" Willow said. "How many times do I have to tell you, no lightening inside the apartment!"

"It would have done wonders for her mouth! Not to mention her makeup," Samantha muttered, still angry, and not allowed to do anything about it.

"I don’t want to hear it! We are going to leave this apartment and continue exploring around here, and you two are going to be completely oblivious to the other’s existence for a few blissful minutes, ok?"

"Like I’d be able to miss that hideous dye job," Samantha said spitefully, sending Buffy into a brand new attack of hysterics.

"Oh dear..." Willow muttered as she took each one of her friends by the arm and guided them out of the room. She pushed Xander and Buffy ahead a bit, then stayed with Samantha and Birkoff to calm her friend down. After they had been walking awhile, Samantha turned to Willow with a strange look on her face.

"Hey...did she say something about demons?"

Birkoff nodded and they both looked at Willow expectantly, but she just shook her head and walked forward. "I’ll tell you two later."

* * *

"Let me get this straight," Methos said incredulously to Alex, looking down. "Two all-powerful beings are going to decide the ultimate fate of the universe with a game of chess?!"

Alex looked down at the beautiful replica of a chessboard they had discovered in the library after the others had gone to explore. "Looks like it," he replied, examining the pieces in closer detail and noticing minute carvings that had gone unnoticed at first. For one thing, there were more white pieces than black ones. Although several of the white pieces were joined at the base of the figures, there were others that were not. The more closely Alex looked at the pieces, the more he began to recognize familiar faces, and after a moment, he cried out in surprise as he made out an exact duplicate of Michael and Nikita joined as one piece in the form of one of the bishops of the chessboard.

"Do you see that?" Alex asked, a little freaked out by what he had just seen, and afraid his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"See what?" Methos asked absently, not paying much attention.

"The pieces...they’re us."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look at them!" Alex insisted, pointing at the pieces urgently.

Methos gave Alex a dubious look, then squinted closely at the board, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Now that he was concentrating, there was something...one of the bishops was very familiar to him...

"What the hell is that?" He yelled, jerking back as suddenly the other bishop bore the clear features of MacLeod and Amanda. "Where did that come from?"

Alex shrugged wordlessly, and as Methos looked back at the board he saw that the other pieces were now clearly recognizable as well. Some he knew only vaguely, but all of the white pieces were those he knew from their team. Now beginning to guess at the properties of the board, Alex and Methos leant over the board and scrutinized it again more carefully; paying attention to the black pieces. This time, Alex jerked back when the generic figure of the black queen morphed into the familiar face and body of Madeline. Methos was better able to control his reaction when he experienced a similar epiphany with his first sight of Kronos as a rook. With the recognition of these two pieces, the other faces of their opponents all became clear, and although there were many faces they did not know, at least their enemy was no longer without an identity.

"So, what does this mean?" Alex asked, already strategizing possible advantages this would give them in combat. "How reliable do you think this will be as an early warning system?"

"I don’t know yet," Methos mused. "It looks like it will depend on how accurate the pieces will move with the players they represent. I don’t think we can count on this being too much of an advantage though. Good and Evil seemed pretty confident that everything would be perfectly balanced. If we have this, it would only make sense to assume that the other side has a similar device."

"I suppose," Alex sighed, reluctantly discarding ideas of sneak attacks based on an assumption that the enemy would be unaware of their position. "Look at the pieces that are joined. What do you think it means?"

"I’m not sure," Methos said, caught up in the puzzle. "If you look at the back row of pieces, even the ones that aren’t joined look like they are meant to be part of a half. All except the King and the Queen anyway."

"Yeah," Alex said distractedly, frowning at the two pieces named. "The Kahrol looks like it’s you. That would make sense with what Good told us about your past and that you’re in charge."

Methos nodded, not pointing out that Alex had slipped into Russian to describe the chess piece of the king. "And the Fyehz is obviously you. Again it makes sense. You’re going to be the most mobile of my forces, and you’ll be leading the others into the field."

"Going by that standard, you’ll be staying in the base, never leaving shelter and always well guarded. In chess, if the king falls, the game is lost."

"I can take care of myself," Methos retorted, frowning. Alex looked displeased himself, and he never questioned the strange protective instincts he suddenly found himself possessing. They did not seem new, but rather something that had just not been noticed before. Something that had always been in the back of his mind but had not been necessary before this situation came up.

"That’s not the point," Alex said stubbornly. "There is a chance that if anything were to happen to you, the game would be forfeit. That can’t be allowed to happen. The rest of us will have to make sure that whatever else happens, you are protected."

"You seem to know something about chess," Methos observed, changing the subject, and making a strategic retreat for the moment.

"Of course I do," Alex said, blinking in surprise. "I was born in Russia."

* * *

By the time the rest of the group started returning to the library for the meeting they had set up earlier, Methos and Alex had become well acquainted and were quite comfortable with one another. They were in the middle of laughing over a story Methos was telling when one of the doors opened and an extremely frustrated looking Willow walked in, followed shortly by Birkoff, Xander, and then a bickering Buffy and Samantha. Willow saw Alex and headed straight for him, burying her head in his chest.

"Make them stop," she groaned. "Please?"

"They’ve been going at it since we left. I’ve never seen anyone get to Buffy like this before. It’s amazing," Xander said, voice tinged with awe.

Willow pulled away from Alex long enough to glare at Xander, then let go of Alex only to grab a hold of Birkoff, who hugged her, not quite sure what to do.

Before either Methos or Alex could step in, the doors opened again and group by group everyone returned to the library. Methos made a mental note to deal with the Buffy/Samantha situation later, and called the meeting to order. Everyone reported what they had found, and Willow and Birkoff were busy taking notes for the detailed map Alex wanted them to start making in the morning.

"Ok, in the morning, Willow and Birkoff will stay here with me, working on their map and communicating with the different teams we’ll send out to explore the area," Methos said. "In the evening, after everyone has returned, we’ll be training. Samantha seems capable enough, and Alex and I have decided that she will be in charge of the novice training level. If you need help, Willow can assist you. Xander, Birkoff, Spike, Giles, Angel, Cordelia, Doyle, Walter, Riley, Buffy, and the Lone Gunmen will be in this group. Now, everyone else..."

"Hey!" Buffy interrupted rudely. "What do you mean putting me in with the novices? I’m an experienced fighter! Not to mention the fact that I refuse to take orders from that...girl!"

"From what we’ve been able to piece together, we think you depend too much on your Slayer abilities in a fight. You need to learn finesse, and some basic combat moves. You might be very strong, but facing off against someone who knows how to deal with strength, you’ll be helpless."

"But..."

"Enough. No more comments please. If you prove to us that you don’t need the training, you’ll be moved up to the next level. Until that happens, however, you’re to learn from Samantha."

Buffy fumed at the dismissal, then snarled silently at Samantha when she smirked at Buffy behind Methos’ back. Willow could be seen massaging her temples in the background. Methos went on to explain the rest of the organization, with the other members of the group just settling into sparring sessions with partners to keep their skills sharp. Everyone would be concentrating more on getting into shape and just mapping out the entire area until the time for fighting arrived.

"That just leaves sleeping arrangements," Alex said finally. "For now, we’ll keep as many people in surroundings that are comfortable for them as we can. MacLeod and Amanda can bunk in his apartment above the dojo, Giles in his office in the library, Nikita and Willow in their apartment..."

"Samantha can stay with us too," Nikita said. "She practically lives on our couch anyway."

"Ok, that leaves Mulder and the Lone Gunmen in the basement FBI office, anyone from Sunnydale in the Bronze or somewhere in the library, and Angel, Cordelia, and Doyle in Angel’s headquarters and apartment. Anyone who’s left can stay with me in what sounds like my home in the eighteenth century," Methos concluded.

"Wait, the castle you shared with Byron is here?" Amanda asked.

Methos smiled reminiscently. "It sounds like it."

Alex stepped forward again. "Questions? Comments?"

Silence reigned over the group. "Good then. Try to get some sleep everyone. We start early tomorrow," Methos said pleasantly, already mostly adapted to the strange situation.

* * *

Willow sighed as the meeting ended, standing up. "Alex!"

Alex stopped his conversation, accepting her hug. "What’s up pumpkin?"

She grinned at him. "I just wanted to tell you how happy I am for you. You know, the arm thing."

He smiled. "I know. It’s great." He looked over at her two small groups of friends, glaring at each other. "So, what are you going to do about them?"

Willow shrugged. "I’ll talk to them. In fact I was going to do that right now."

"Well then you better hurry, because it looks like your two friends are about to start up again."

Willow glanced over again, and sighed when she saw Buffy and Samantha starting what was sure to be yet another endless tirade. She stood up on her toes and pecked Alex on the cheek, waved to Methos, murmured a goodnight, and walked over to her large circle of friends, each side backing up either Samantha or Buffy. Willow broke through the crowd to find both of the girls yelling at each other animatedly.

"Listen you stupid blonde ho!" Samantha stared, but was interrupted by Buffy’s indignant cry.

"Me?! What about you, you..."

"ENOUGH!" Willow yelled finally, breaking off the argument abruptly, causing everyone to look at her. She sighed. "I’ve had about all I can take of this. We have more important things to do than argue all the time. Like, I don’t know, maybe saving the universe as we know it? I don’t have the time or patience to deal with the two groups of people closest to me being at war constantly."

She turned to Samantha, who had Nikita, Birkoff, Walter, and even Michael behind her. "Listen you guys, can you all go back to your places? I’ll see most of you later, and if I don’t, I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for everything, but...I have issues to work out with my Scoobies, ok?"

Surprisingly, Michael was the first to stand-down. He even had a half-expression on his face as he took Nikita by the arm and silently led her out. Walter followed suite, heading towards his corner, but both Birkoff and Samantha stood immovable. Willow smiled. "Go back to my apartment. I promise I’ll be there in a bit."

Birkoff was eyeing Xander reluctantly, almost suspiciously. Willow grinned. She had forgotten what it was like to have an over-protective boyfriend. Normally, Birky was so...docile. She kissed him lightly and whispered in his ear, "You have nothing to worry about. Now go. And keep Sam from blowing up my apartment, would you?"

He finally cracked a smile and began to leave. "Come on Sam."

Samantha didn’t budge. "Samantha..." Willow said in a warning tone.

The short but intimidating girl just glared at Buffy even more, if that was possible. "Please?" Willow asked finally, in a pleading voice.

Samantha sighed. She hated that voice. She really did. She turned her death-glare on Willow for a moment, then stalked out of the room. Which left Willow with the entire Scooby gang. For a long moment, she just stared at them, then she took a deep, shaky breath and smiled radiantly.

"It really is great to see you guys," she said finally.

* * *

"So...we have to save the world," Scully said finally, breaking the silence she and her partner had fallen into as they wandered the halls of the deserted FBI building aimlessly.

"Seems like it. Although I always thought that it involve a few more...little gray men and a few less old acquaintances," Mulder said with a half-smile.

Scully rewarded his joke with a small smile. "You worried?" she asked.

"A little. But we’ve got good people on our side, and as much as I hate to admit it, we’ve got good leaders," Mulder said grudgingly.

Scully gave him the patented raised-eyebrow expression, but said nothing.

The partners reached the door of Mulder’s apartment and he turned to her. "Wanna come in?"

"No, I think I’ll steer clear. Not in the mood to dodge Frohike’s ill-advised passes."

Mulder grinned, then reached out and tucked that ever-errant strand of hair behind Scully’s ear. "Scully..." he muttered softly, the entire mood between them changing.

"Hmmm?"

"Whatever happens...I’m glad you’re here."

His partner looked up at him and for a moment there was that feeling in the air, the one was only acknowledgeable every once and awhile, but always around them. The two best friends began to lean towards each other, coming closer and closer to that final taboo step...

And the door to Mulder’s office opened, abruptly interrupting the moment.

Langely stood in the doorway. "Mulder! Come on in, we’re checking out some of your old slides of crop circles. You’re missing all the action!"

Scully pulled away from Mulder and backed down half the hallway, turning to jog down the other half. Mulder watched her go regretfully, then turned to his friend.

* * *

The Scooby gang sat around the table in the library, eyeing one another, not sure what to say. Finally, Xander broke the ice.

"Wow, this is extreme deja vu."

Everyone smiled except Riley and Doyle, who really couldn’t understand what he meant. Feeling a little more comfortable, Willow asked, "So, what have you guys been doing for the past six months?"

"Searching for you, mainly," Giles said.

"And trying to figure out Adam," Buffy added.

"The big sort-of demon sort-of man thing?"

Everyone nodded.

She turned to Angel and Cordelia. "And you?"

"Helping them look for you and generally moping about," Cordelia quipped. "It seems to be what we’re best at. Oh, by the way, this is Doyle."

"So I gathered," Willow said with a small smile. "Hi."

Doyle nodded his head in greeting, but then the group seemed to be at a loss for what to do. Finally, Spike’s cheerful voice rang out from the end of the table. "Red, it seems to me that it’s you these blokes wanna discuss, not them."

Xander wrinkled his nose. "I hate to even think it...but Spike’s right. We know what we’ve been doing...it’s you we’re curious about."

Willow shrugged. "I...well, I went through basic tech training really fast and then I took over for Birkoff while he was sick and moved in with Niki, met Samantha, learned how to fight, started dating Birky, practiced magic a lot, practiced Russian a lot, practiced fighting a lot...but other than that and being a part of Section, not too much."

When she was greeted with silence, she sighed. "What am I supposed to say? I changed. People do that, you know. And like it or not, these people are huge parts of my life now. Nikita is like my sister, Alex is my brother, Birkoff is...well, I love him. Samantha and Walter too. They’ve helped me become a person I like, and you need to stop expecting me to be the same person you knew before."

Silence still reigned over the table, and Willow smiled one last time before standing. "I’ll see you guys around, ok? You know where to find me."

She began to walk away, but Spike met her at the door to her apartment. "Hey Red."

She hugged him, oddly glad to him. "Hey Spike. How are you doing?"

He shrugged. "It’s a little weird, with the whole soul thing going on now, but I’ll get used to it. Unlike some people, I’m smart enough to know that things I did while being a vampire were for the most part beyond my control."

They both looked back over their shoulders at Angel, who had moved to a corner and was glowering at Riley. Willow let one giggle slip, then muffled them with her hand and even Spike was laughing softly. When they calmed back down, Spike patted Willow’s shoulder comfortingly. "Don’t worry too much about them, Red. They’ll come around. I know I’ll take you any way I can get you."

His kind comment was rewarded with a wide smile and a hug. "Thanks Spike. I’ll see you later."

With that, she opened the door and walked into her apartment. Birkoff and Samantha were sitting on the couch laughing about something, and Nikita and Michael were in the kitchen, eating leftovers. When she came in, they all abruptly stopped their conversations and looked at her, obviously expecting her to tell them what had happened. Willow just rolled her eyes and stormed into her room, quickly changing from her binding leather outfit to a loose pair of black draw string pants and a royal blue tank top, taking off her boots and undoing her hair.

She came out of her without saying a word, walking straight to the freezer and pulling out a large carton of double chocolate ice cream. She grabbed some spoons from the silverware drawer and then launched herself onto the couch, curling up next to Birkoff and opening the ice cream with a vengeance, flinging the lid across the room and digging in. Samantha, who had discovered a great affinity for ice cream since her first meeting with Mulder, eagerly grabbed a spoon of her own and loaded it up with the chilly substance. "So it was that bad, huh?" she asked around the ice cream.

Birkoff took his spoon and began eating. "What, did they yell at you or something?"

Nikita pulled a reluctant Michael into an armchair across from the trio of friends. "Ask if we had brainwashed you?"

"Tell you to let them take care of everything?" Samantha added sarcastically.

Willow shook her head. "They didn’t...say...anything," she said softly, looking ready to cry.

"No one?" Nikita repeated in surprise.

"No one except Spike," Willow said, actually smiling a little at the thought of the ex-vampire being nice to her.

"What kinda name is Spike anyway?" Birkoff asked, eating another spoonful of ice cream.

"I think it’s a nickname he picked up when he went through that whole torture-people-to-death-with-railroad-spikes phase as a vamp," Willow said absent-mindedly.

"Vamp?" Birkoff repeated, confused.

"Vampire."

A confused silence fell over the room. Finally, Michael said in his monotone voice, "What?"

Willow looked up, eyes wide. Slowly, she pulled a spoon out of her mouth. "Oh, right...I haven’t explained all of that yet, have I?"

"Uh...no," Nikita said, exasperated.

"Right...vampires are real, so are demons and other kinds of stuff like that. Buffy’s a Slayer, which means she fights them for a living because she has super strength. And ever since high school, we’ve helped her. First it was just Xander, Giles, and me, with the occasional Angel thrown in, and then Cordy joined up after awhile because she was making out with Xander, but then we graduated, Cordy and Xander broke up, and Cordy and Angel moved to LA and met Doyle, fighting demons there...anyway, yeah, that’s pretty much it."

"Does the whole witch thing tie into this?" Nikita asked.

Willow shrugged. "Sort of. In that line of work, magic really gives you an edge. Especially when you don’t have super powers. But I was never as strong as I am now. I think that might have to do with all of this save the universe stuff though."

Samantha took another bite of ice cream. "You know, it just figures that the powers-that-be didn’t just curse the Earth with terrorist super-criminals. No, no...they had to throw some demons and vampires in there for good measure."

The whole group laughed just as a soft knock sounded on the door. Willow stood and walked to the door, extremely surprised to see Xander when she opened the door. "Xand...hi..."

"Hey Wills," Xander said with his goofy grin on. "I thought I smelled double chocolate ice-cream."

"Ice cream doesn’t smell," pointed out Samantha from behind them.

"It does to Xander," Willow said with a smile, handing him a spoon, then pulling him into a big hug, which he seemed more than happy to return.

"I missed you Xand," she said.

"I missed you too, Wills," he replied, just relieved they could be friends again.

She pulled away and motioned for him to close the door. "Come on in and join us then."

He grinned and she turned away, walking back to the couch and cuddling next to Birkoff again.

He walked to the couch and paused before standing next to Samantha. "Hi."

She looked up at him, slightly confused as to what in the hell he was doing. "Hello."

"Can I sit?"

"That’s normally what couches are used for," she pointed out coldly. "Well they are," she muttered as Willow shot her a glare.

"Xand, you probably haven’t been introduced to Michael and Nikita yet. This is Nikita, and that’s Michael," Willow broke in.

"Go figure," he said, sitting down and beginning to eat the ice cream.

"I was just explaining some of the...weirder aspects of the world that I had neglected to mention to everyone before," Willow said.

"You guys seem to be taking it well," Xander observed.

"We live in a world where terrorist organizations plague society, Madeline gives Willow jewelry, and Operations might be Nikita’s father," Birkoff said simply, as though that explained everything.

"Riiiiight..." Xander said after a pause.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and early and the scouting teams were sent out to explore as soon as everyone had been roused out of their beds and fed. The first priority of their day was to map out all of the surrounding area and report back so that it could be coordinated into a cohesive picture of their environment. The Lone Gunmen would be responsible for entering all of the data that the others gathered into a database; that was why when they were sent out, the Lone Gunmen were put into a central position to make it easier for the teams sent out to reach them and report their findings. Spike and Giles were assigned to their section to make sure nothing happened to the trio, while Alex and Methos directed everyone’s movements from the library, where the chess pieces did indeed show the motions of their players.

It was Methos who first noticed that several of the black pieces had begun to spread downward towards his half of the board. There were only three of them at the moment, but that was more than enough to worry him.

"Alex," Methos called, pulling his attention away from the communicator he was speaking into. "They’re on the move."

Looking at the pieces closely, the two of them were able to make out the individual features of the enemies moving towards their position. Specifically, towards the centrally located team of their data collectors.

"Heads up, Team One," Methos said into the microphone that connected him to his teams in the field. "We have three hostiles moving towards grid 3 b. We need reinforcements there ASAP."

There were a few tense moments before their own white pieces could be seen converging on the threatened area, but in the meantime, the enemies had penetrated the grid. The team in question was deciding how to deal with said threat.

"Look. It’s no big deal," Spike was insisting. "I’ll just head them off before they can even get close to the geeks. Those blokes have probably never faced off against someone with my skills and strength before."

"And what skills would those be?" Giles asked sarcastically. "As I recall, you were thrashed on a regular basis back home. But I do agree, we should split up and separate. Bunched up here like we are, we’re too vulnerable and they could wipe us all out with one blow."

"Good then. I’ll take the west, you cover the east," Spike said quickly, eager to find some action.

"What should we do?" Frohike asked nervously.

Spike and Giles exchanged a glance, then turned back to face the techs together. "Stay in camp. We’ll have you covered, and you’d probably be safer here." Giles carefully avoided saying that the three would just get in their way.

Spike and Giles headed off into the thick jungle that filled this particular grid section, Spike armed with two semi-automatic pistols and Giles with the crossbow that he was most comfortable with. Langley, Frohike, and Byers fidgeted nervously, pretending to study the data as their so-called protectors left them, and never noticed the silent shadow that approached their position.

"Where are they?" Spike asked, frustrated with the clinging vines, and seeing no trace of anyone that shouldn’t be there.

"They should be right on top of you," Alex said into his ear-piece.

"Well, I don’t-" Just then, a figure leapt out of the foliage, pointing his own guns at the former vampire. Spike leapt out of the line of fire just as the man began shooting. As he rolled into a better position, Spike opened fire himself, having better luck or better aim than his opponent, hit him several times. Unfortunately, Spike hadn’t recognized the man that attacked him, and had no way of knowing that Kronos was Immortal, and couldn’t be killed by a few gunshot wounds.

Hearing the automatic fire echo loudly, Giles began to run back the way he had come, never even seeing Adam, who had been laying in wait for him just a few yards away. Seeing him run towards the other members of his team, Adam let him go, knowing that their objective was probably already in place. Giles had nearly reached the clearing where they had left the Lone Gunmen when he was blown off his feet by an enormous explosion.

Giles shakily pulled himself to his feet and looked around, dazed. He took note of the camp that had been the center of their operation a few minutes ago, now reduced to wreckage. There were no survivors. He spotted a figure retreating hastily and as soon as he confirmed it wasn’t one of his team, he took careful aim with the crossbow and let fly. The man grunted as the bolt struck his arm, but continued to run, disappearing into the trees.

Alex watched in shock as the piece which had once been a pawn, the combined figures of Langley, Frohike, and Byers, vanished from the chessboard. "All teams, return to base."

Part 11

"Damnit!"

"Hold still and the pain won’t be quite so bad," Madeline said calmly to an irate Operations. "And try to relax."

"Relax?! I’ve been shot with a crossbow bolt! Who the hell uses a crossbow to shoot someone? Clearly our enemies belong in an insane asylum."

"Actually, their response time was slightly faster than I had estimated," Madeline said, not even blinking at his tirade. "It was difficult extracting the team, and you should not have been injured at all."

"I have a piece of wood stuck in my arm, and that’s all you have to say?...Ah!"

Madeline smiled to herself as she held out the crossbow bolt she had just finished yanking from Operation’s arm. "There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?"

* * *

Methos studied the chessboard with care, watching the deployments of his enemies and seeing them scurry back to their base after the first strike. An evil glint appeared in his eyes as he thought of the three men he had already eliminated. Clearly, the other side hadn’t expected him to attack quite so quickly and aggressively, and the first shot had been practically free. Right now he looked up as Madeline entered and stood at his side.

"Paul will be joining us in a moment. He is looking for some medication from the Section med bay. The wound is not serious, and he will be back in action in a limited capacity within a week."

"He should have been more cautious," Methos growled in irritation. "Our first operation went very smoothly, but now they will be on their guard. I need all of our soldiers now more than yesterday."

"Our manpower was not significantly diminished," Madeline inserted smoothly. "It’s true that Paul was injured, but his injury was minor. They lost three men. It’s true that they represented only one piece between them all, but it was still a blow that they felt."

"You’re right." At that point, Methos turned his attention from the woman who served as the queen on the chessboard to his other main pieces. It was a motley group, but Methos knew a little something about keeping an ill-matched group together. He could manipulate these people as he had all of the others in his life to do what he wanted. After all, he had five thousand years of experience at controlling people and breaking them to his will.

The cool woman to his right was one who would be quite valuable to him in this conflict. He recognized her value right away. Her analytical skills were the best he had ever seen, and this ability, combined with a completely amoral outlook as the actions needed for victory were concerned, she would stop at nothing to achieve her goal.

The two men who would serve as his ‘bishops’ were quite interesting characters. Spender, an older man who always seemed to have a cigarette in hand was as cold as they came. His rasping, rough voice was a testament to his destructive habit, but he was a killer, as much as anyone else in the room. Adam, on the other hand, could not even be called human. Something between man, monster, and machine, the creature had amazing strength, and never hesitated to obey when given an order. Just the way Methos liked his soldiers; big, strong, and obedient.

His knights, according to Madeline, would be reliable in the coming battles. Both had a great deal of valuable combat experience, and neither had a problem with the killing to come. Paul, or Operations, as he had been known, had apparently been Madeline’s immediate superior in the organization they had both worked at. He, in his turn, had reported to the second piece, George. Methos knew he would have to remain alert with the two of them. They were too used to the petty schemes and fighting for scraps of power to give it all up now to support him without struggle.

One of his rooks he knew quite well. He hadn’t seen Kronos in quite a long time. It had been millennia in fact. According to things the other man had told him, he understood his counterpart had had a run in with him very recently, however. Kronos knew very well about Methos’ planning ability, though, and as soon as he had realized that the man who had betrayed him was the other Methos, he fell into line quickly enough. The other rook was the only one of his elite troops he had any real doubts about. Faith was very young to be in such an important struggle, and Methos could tell by looking into her eyes that she had not achieved the deep conviction of immorality that the others had all acquired over their lifetimes. Apparently, she was very powerful, a ‘slayer’, whatever that entailed, and had killed before. It would have to be good enough, Methos knew, but he would be keeping a close eye on her.

Methos gathered his thoughts together and prepared to speak. "We have met our enemy," he said in a quiet, ringing voice that compelled everyone’s attention. "We made the first move and made it well. That was the easiest attack we ever make, however. From here on out, they’ll be ready for us. You each have your strengths and weaknesses. Over the next few days I will be learning what those are determining how to make the best use of everyone on an individual basis. Right now though, I want a mission report from Kronos and Adam. Everyone should hear this to better learn the weaknesses of our enemies. I’ll be debriefing Paul myself at a later time. Kronos, proceed."

* * *

At the other end of the chessboard, an entire group of people sat in shock. Although few had known the Lone Gunmen well, to lose three of their compatriots so quickly had caused the morbid reality of their situation to be realized by all. The base was eerily quiet as everyone sought out comfort, more in apprehension for their own lives than mourning the lives of the three men they had lost. In fact, only one man seemed to be grieving for Frohike, Langley, and Byers at all. When Mulder had heard the news of his friends’ death, he had simply risen from his seat and walked away. Scully found him almost an hour later, tucked in a corner of one of the storage rooms in their basement headquarters, surrounded by nothing but brown boxes and piles of dust.

He looked up when her shadow fell over him, and without a word rose up onto his knees and encircled her waist with his arms, resting his head on her stomach while she ran her fingers through his hair in a gesture of comfort. After awhile, Scully started to move away, but Mulder grasped onto her clothes and made a sound of protest. She pushed him away long enough to sit down on the floor next to him and pull him close once again, his arms encircling her waist once again and his head resting on her shoulder as she rocked him gently from side to side.

Time seemed to unravel as they sat like that, two people so a part of each other that even their pain was shared. Eventually, Mulder smiled wryly.

"You’ve got a tiny shoulder, Scully," he said half-joking, half-petulant tone.

She smiled and turned her head enough to place a soft kiss in his hair. "It’s not my shoulder that’s the problem, it’s your over-sized head," she said before he lifted the afore-mentioned body part from her shoulder. "You ok?"

"I will be. I’m just going to miss them," he said softly. He didn’t have to say more.

Scully stood, then held out a hand. "Come on," she said. "Let’s go find some old issues of their paper and get drunk enough that we start believing it."

"That’ll be the best present they ever got," Mulder said as he stood.

As they turned to leave, they caught sight of a figure that had been watching them in the shadows. Mulder squinted, then looked at Scully in confusion. "Samantha?"

Reluctantly, the girl stepped into the light. "I just wanted to...I mean, I know that they were your friends and...I guess you’re probably sad they’re dead or something."

"Well, yes," Mulder said, his arm still around Scully’s shoulders. "They were friends of mine."

"See, that’s why I never wanted friends," Samantha said. "But, you had some, and I have some now, so I guess I just wanted to see if there was something I could do to make you feel better. I know I would be sad if Willow or Birkoff died. Or Xander I guess. And even you, a little."

"Thank you for saying that...I think. I appreciate you trying to help me, anyway," Mulder said, a little at a loss.

"Hey, you are my brother, I suppose, in some weird, twisted way, so I suppose that means I’m supposed to care about you or something." Samantha seemed to take in their entwined posture then and blinked once or twice. "Well, I guess I’ll just leave you two alone then."

"Goodnight, Samantha," Scully said with a small smile.

"See you tomorrow," she answered and disappeared silently back into the shadows and out the door.

"That girl is strange," Mulder commented.

"Must run in the family," Scully teased gently. "She was trying though."

"Yeah, she was. C’mon Scully, let’s go find some booze and dig up those newspapers."

* * *

Drusilla hummed softly to herself as she rocked back and forth in her chair. Her eyes were vague and unfocused as her warped mind was busy creating scenarios of destruction in her imagination. She and the others were gathered together while the more important players had their little meeting. Being considered of minor importance did not sit too well with some of the people gathered there.

"You know, this whole pawn thing really sucks," the vampire version of Xander said petulantly. "I mean, here me and Wills are, we’ve killed hundreds of people between us, but does that count for anything? No. This really bites!"

"Bites!" Willow said softly with a giggle. "I wish I had something to bite," she added wistfully.

"Would you two shut up!" a smooth British sounding voice cut into their commentary. "It’s bad enough I’m stuck here and don’t know what’s going on. Having to listen to your incoherent babble on top of that is more than I’m willing to take. I bet Ripper doesn’t have to deal with crap like this!"

"But Ethan," Drusilla’s eerie voice whispered from the table, "try to keep your voice down. You’ll disturb my dollies."

"Crazy vampires," Ethan muttered, turning away from Drusilla where she was petting thin air with a vacant expression on her face.

"That creature that brought us here said that vampires and such fairytales truly existed. What nonsense," another British voice snapped.

"Oh, excuse me, my lord," Ethan said with a mocking bow. "Now that you’ve established your disbelief in their existence, I’m sure they’ll oblige you and fade away like good little fairytales."

The gentleman known as the Well-Manicured Man pursed his lips in annoyance at the irritating taunts. The other pawns in the room watched the argument with interest, happy to have something to occupy their attention. Marita Covarrubias and Agent Fowley stood close together against a wall. The two women were not particularly fond of one another, but at the moment, they seemed to be the only sane, truly human ones there.

Two other people stood over in another corner, their heads close together, discussing their trade softly, not paying any mind to the conversations going on around them. From Section 1, they were only known as the Torture Twins to those who knew them. Anyone who ventured near enough to hear what they were saying usually backed away immediately.

"You people are no fun," Willow declared with a pout, crossing her leather-clad arms over her chest. "Bored now."

"Yeah, really," Xander agreed, slinging his arm casually over his companion’s shoulder. "When are we going to get a piece of the action?"

"When the warrior has fallen, and the Wind Dancer needs her friends," Drusilla chanted in her sing-song voice of prophesy. Everyone in the room looked at her strangely, then returned to what they were doing, ignoring the unhinged vampire once again.

* * *

In front of a roaring fire, Methos stood, staring into the flames, entranced, while one hand held a glass of vodka and the other played absently around the rim of the glass. When Alex had invited him to share a bottle of vodka with him, Methos’ first thought had been that he didn’t dare let his guard down that far. Then, another wave of guilt and sorrow had washed over him, and he had accepted with a harsh voice.

"It wasn’t your fault, you know," Alex’s soft, rough voice said from the rug in front of the fire where he had made himself comfortable. "You made the teams as secure as you could. No one could have predicted where they were going to make that first strike or when they would do it, and it was vital that we gathered that intel on the terrain. Now we know what the territory is like, and how they will come at us, we can be ready for them next time."

"That doesn’t help the three men who died today, does it?" Methos asked quietly. "I have seen more people than I can count die in my life. But it is different when they are under your command. Sent out to fight under your orders and depending on your decisions to keep them alive. It was my responsibility to protect them, and I failed in that. The responsibility is mine and I accept that."

"They knew the risks when they went out there to help the teams. They accepted it because they knew what the stakes are. We’re not just fighting some meaningless battle back home. This is to save the lives of billions more people on earth and keep the darkness we know is on the other side from gaining control of all of that. As callous as this may sound, if we lose a few people along the way to realize that goal, it will still be worth it in the end."

"A few years ago, I probably wouldn’t have had quite this big a problem with it," Methos commented with a half smile and humorous lilt to his voice. "Damn Macleod and his contagious morals anyway."

Krycek smiled as well, thinking of Mulder and how some of his righteousness had rubbed off onto a certain cynical Section One operative. "I know what you mean," he said to Methos, gazing into the fire as well. "But you have to careful, too. The ones that have such bright flames can burn you if you get too close."

"Exactly what is it between you and Mulder?" Methos asked with a penetrating look at the Russian stretched out before the fire. "You two have a history."

"How did you...?" Krycek started to ask surprised that Methos had guessed what he was thinking of.

"The man practically glows with intensity when he puts his full attention on something. From some things I’ve heard from Nikita, the two of you have had a somewhat violent past."

Alex looked into his own glass for a moment before drinking the contents quickly and reaching for the bottle to refill it. "I used to have a thing for him," Alex admitted after a moment. "He really is intense, and beautiful in that mismatched way of his, and genius, in some strange, quirky way. I almost thought for a second he returned my feelings deep down somewhere where he didn’t want to admit it."

"The two of you would have been a bad match," Methos said, his voice starting to sound a tiny bit slurred from the vodka he had consumed. "You’re both too intense, really. Mulder needs someone like Scully to balance out his crazy ideas and give him an anchor. They are a good match, and they really love each other."

"Yeah, I know," Alex said with a sigh. "I’ve been trying to hook them up forever. They were really stubborn about it though. Anyone with eyes could see they were in love with each other. They were just blind to it themselves. Now I think they’re about ready to admit it though. They’ll be very good for each other."

"If you liked Mulder so much yourself, why try to match him with Scully?" Methos asked, confused now.

"Well, much as I hate to say it, there are just some men in this world who are straight, and there’s nothing you can do to shake them from it. Not many, mind you, but a few. And Mulder always did have the strength of his convictions. As much as I liked to believe that his violence towards me was some kind of psychological reasoning to try to mask his attraction towards me, that really only worked for a short time. After a while, bruises really stop holding any romantic value."

"Oh," Methos said, blinking into his empty glass as if pondering what the other man had just said. "So, you’re not attracted to him anymore?"

"Nope," Alex answered with surety. "As much fun as that crush was, I think it’s time I moved on. After all, there are other men in the world, and I think it’s about time I tried to find one that doesn’t have quite so solid a right hook."

"Sounds like a simple enough plan. Have any good prospects yet?" Methos asked as he refilled his glass and sat down beside Alex.

"One or two," Alex responded with a smile. "My type seems to run towards tall, lanky guys with a penchant for trench coats and making sarcastic comments. Know anyone who fits the bill?"

Methos leaned down into the carpet, gazing into his companion’s jade green eyes. "I might," he drawled, running a finger across Alex’s stubble covered jaw. The simple touch sent a bolt of electricity through both of them. Although completely unexpected, the thrill of the simple contact came as a welcome surprise to both men. Methos leaned in closer, and Alex’s eyes began to close in anticipation.

"And another thing, Alex?" Methos muttered softly, his lips only a breath away from Alex’s.

"Hmm?"

"I favor left backhands."

Alex couldn’t help but smile before Methos closed the distance between them, after which he forgot about everything else.

Part Twelve

The next day passed with a calm that surprised everyone, and as the urgent pace of their situation pushed forward, the dreadful loss they had suffered seemed to fade in comparison with the challenges that lay ahead. After a thrown together dinner of holiday leftovers and Spagettios, the team settled into the evening schedule. Samantha led those assigned to the beginners training team into the dojo, where she organized them quickly and efficiently. As Willow sat in the library trying to compile two days worth of data into a comprehensive map, she could hear Samantha’s struggles through the open adjoining door.

"No! Look, the kick has to snap, see like this," she said, her voice laced with frustration, as she demonstrated a sidekick to her motley group of pupils.

The group tried to follow her movements once again, and while Birkoff, Buffy, Riley, Angel, and Spike seemed to be managing, the rest seemed hopeless. Samantha rubbed her temples, then sighed.

"Ok, we’re just gonna pair up and spar now," she said in a resigned voice. She quickly grouped people into pairs with comparative abilities-Buffy’s strength with Spike’s skill, Angel and Doyle in his demon form, Riley and Skinner, Birkoff and Xander, and Walter with Giles. Unfortunately, this left her with Cordelia.

The well-dressed girl eyed Samantha with concern, keeping her distance. Sam rolled her eyes. "We can’t spar if you stay halfway across the room," she pointed out.

Although she was willing to help with the occasional demon slaying, Cordy had never had any formal combat training. VERY reluctantly, Cordelia came closer. Sam took this as a signal that she was ready and started with a simple forward kick that she had already taught them how to block. Cordelia responded by throwing her arms up in the air and futilely trying to grab the leg. After a moment, she let out a shriek.

"What?!" Samantha yelled. "I didn’t even hit you! I was NICE!!"

"You broke my nail!" Cordelia whined, showing Sam the ‘injured’ finger.

Samantha simply stared at Cordelia for a moment, then simply threw back her head and hollered, "WILLOW!!"

All of the so-called sparring in the room came to an abrupt halt at the sound, and after a few moments, Willow appeared in the doorway. "You screamed?"

"I can’t take it anymore," Samantha said, her voice shaking. "These people are hopeless. Teaching them is impossible, they don't listen to a word I say! Birkoff isn’t aggressive enough, Angel is too flashy, Skinner has no technique, Walter is too slow, and Cordelia BROKE a NAIL!!"

Willow watched her friend take heaving breaths of frustration. "Ok...and what am I supposed to do about that?"

"I think a demonstration is in order."

Willow squealed. "Yay! Sparring!" She had been so caught up in the technical work, she hadn’t gotten to train in days. She stripped down to her sports bra and walked into the center met, facing off with Sam.

"Do you want defense or offense?" Samantha asked with a grin.

Willow rolled her eyes. "Defense. I still can’t touch you on offensive when we play extremes. Mixed is a different story. Who was that Oriental woman who taught you that wacked out technique?"

"It is not wacked out! It’s the perfect defensive art! Too bad you don’t know it now!" Samantha said as she launched herself at Willow.

Willow, expecting this, was ready and blocked the simple, but lightning-fast attack easily. Sam, not even pausing, immediately flew into a series of movements carefully balanced and intricately planned to incapacitate Willow. Like she had been taught, however, mostly by Samantha herself, Willow used the strength behind the attacks to her advantage, easily pushing aside the swift punches and flying kicks. Flowing through the forms she had tried to teach the novices, Samantha began to feel better right away.

It took about ten minutes, but eventually Willow’s guard was not where it needed to be. Both girls were dripping with sweat as the low kick Samantha had feinted pulled Willow into a false move that left her undefended at her side when Sam’s other leg shot out and hit her hard enough to knock the wind out of her. At the first blow, the two of them stopped, Samantha breathing hard as Willow gasped for breath.

"I...hate...defense..." Willow forced out clearly.

"But just look how much you’ve improved," Samantha pointed out with a twinkle in her eye. "When you first came to Section you would have lost it in three seconds flat. I hope you were all paying attention," Samantha added, turning to her pupils, most of whom were gaping in awe...especially Xander. "This is the level that we want you to reach. I realize it’s not going to be possible in most cases, but I’m going to try and prepare you as best I can for what you’re going to face out there."

"Oh, please," Buffy scoffed, looking unimpressed. "All you did was get past Willow’s guard. No offense Willow, but you’re not the greatest fighter out there."

"Um, were you watching the same fight we were, Buffy?" Xander asked incredulously. "They were both amazing!"

For some reason, a part of Samantha glowed at the compliment, but she ignored it as she turned to face Buffy. "Whatever she was before she came to us, Willow is now definitely a proficient fighter by Section’s standards. In the outside that means she can kick the ass of virtually anyone she meets. Probably even you on a good day."

"You’re kidding, right?" Buffy said skeptically. "I’ll admit Willow has learned a few tricks, but I could take anyone in this room. I really don’t see why I have to be here. This whole ‘training’ is a farce. I’m the Slayer. I don’t need some jumped-up little girl telling me how to fight."

"Really," Sam said softly, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Willow, knowing the signs, wanted to warn Buffy, but at the same time, was still a little angry with the blonde’s comments about herself. Ah well, Willow thought to herself. This would be good for Buffy’s ego. "I’ll tell you what, Slayer. If you can beat me in single combat, I’ll recommend to Methos and Alex that you should be taken out of the class. How’s that?"

"Works for me," Buffy said with a confident grin.

"Alright, offense of defense?"

"Offense," Buffy answered promptly. Willow buried her face into her hands. This was going to be awhile.

"Alright. If you can hit me, you win," Samantha explained. "If you hit the mat, I win."

The two girls faced off, taking each other’s measure. Willow almost groaned. "This is going to be ugly," she said in an aside to Xander.

"Is Samantha really that good?" He asked her, his attention focused on the girl in question.

"Oh yes," Willow responded ruefully. "Her defensive technique is flawless when she can focus all of her energy on just that. In a mixed fight, which is what happens in reality, she does have vulnerabilities, but Buffy fell right into her hands here. The form is a mix between Tai Chi and I don’t know what else. It was developed by a master in China, Chang Meiran. To hear Sam tell it, she was one step short of god where it comes to martial arts. We’ve done this exercise dozens of times, ‘offense/defense’, and I have yet to get a hit in when she’s in that mode. Somehow, I don’t think Buffy will either."

Willow had barely finished her explanation when Buffy began the match by moving to the attack. The Slayer, who believed herself to have fully mastered an offensive technique, began with lightning fast kicks and punches meant to wear her opponent down and get behind her guard. Most people would have been unable to deal with the strength and speed behind the attacks, but Samantha had been trained by the best, and was in her element. Smooth, flowing motions of her arms pushed the punches away from herself, as the movements continued gracefully in one block to the next. All of the energy from the Slayer’s attacks was turned aside in what seemed an effortless display on Samantha’s part. It looked like the brunette was dancing as she moved in tandem with her opponent, always anticipating Buffy’s next move.

Buffy, growing more frantic and wild in her attacks as her usual moves did not make a dent in Samantha’s composure, flipped fully over her head and launched a kick at what should have been an unguarded attack. A move that would have been impossible for most humans, it would have been quite impressive, if Samantha had not been prepared for that as well. Slipping to one side of the thrusting foot, Samantha easily caught it in her grip, twisting it to one side with just enough pressure so that Buffy was thrown off balance. She fell down to the mat with a hard thud, as breathless as Willow had been after that final kick.

"Good match," Samantha said, an almost respectful tone in her voice. "That last move was pretty good, and you are pretty fast."

"Impossible," Buffy panted, unable to believe her opponent was barely out of breath. "I didn’t even touch you."

"You depend too much on brute strength," Samantha explained to the girl still sitting on the mat. "Work with Willow for the next few days. She’ll be able to give you some pointers."

Buffy watched in disbelief as Samantha, in a much better mood, walked off to work with some of the other trainees again. Willow walked over to her old friend and helped her up. "Don’t feel bad," she said to Buffy. "Sam’s got defense down cold. Alex is the only one I’ve ever seen get past her, and that was just because he’s...well, Alex."

"What did I do wrong?" Buffy asked no one in particular as she stood.

"Well, you favor your right side, use flashy moves when you get agitated, misplace your roundhouse kick, and leave your left hip unblocked most of the time," Willow said briefly. At Buffy’s blank stare, she just smiled. "Come on, they’ve moved on to weapons."

* * *

The next day, Methos had decided that they had to bring the fight to their enemy. They couldn’t afford to fight this war on a purely defensive basis. Everyone was gathered in the library in front of the chessboard to hear what he had planned.

"Our enemies struck the first blow, but now we have to take the initiative and hit them back. I’m going to divide everybody up into four teams of four people. Krycek, Willow, Birkoff, and Giles will remain in the library to keep an eye on the chessboard and coordinate everyone’s movements. The key to this plan, is that three of the teams must avoid action. Only one will be our true offensive; the others are merely decoys to force the enemy to divide their own strength."

"Michael, Nikita, Macleod, and Amanda will be in the strike force," Krycek picked up the explanation. "Everyone else will spread out right on the borders of enemy territory. They won’t know where we’re going to hit them, so they’ll have to defend everything at once. Team assignments and parameters are listed on the door. Keep in contact with me, I’ll be coordinating from here. Remember, move slowly, we want them to come across into our territory before we engage. Good luck everyone."

As the teams moved out into the various environments that surrounded their base, some were more nervous than others. Samantha, in Team 2, was more annoyed than nervous. She had wanted to be in the team that was going to get some action, but no. She was stuck babysitting a bunch of civilians and under orders to avoid a fight. What fun was that?

Michael and Nikita were about as unhappy with the teammates that had been assigned. They would almost have been happier with Willow and Birkoff, even though the pair was short of experience. At least both knew how Section handled operations. These two had actually brought swords to fight with, of all weapons. To be fair, they both carried guns as well, but those blades were extremely impractical and could get in the way when things got hot.

They weren’t far from where the border to enemy territory should be when Krycek spoke into their earpieces. "We’ve got hostiles closing on your positions. All teams, prepare to execute."

"Team One, we have four hostiles headed for your position, identified as Adam, Spender, Kronos, and Faith. Everyone else prepare to withdraw. We only want to draw them out of position."

Michael continued to lead his team forward at a slower pace, letting the enemy come to them. When he judged that they were in a good defendable area, he called a halt and everyone moved into their own positions to ambush the enemy.

Faith easily kept up with the other three members of their own strike force as they went to intercept the team that was headed to invade their territory. To be honest, most of the people she was with creeped her out a little. The old guy named Spender always had a cigarette. Didn’t he know those things were killing him? What an idiot. Then there was that monster guy. He was something she probably would have tried to kill back when she doing the good-little-Slayer part. Now they were supposed to work together. It really is a small world. The creepiest one of the bunch, though, was the one called Kronos. His hair cut was just as bad as his fashion sense, but that wasn’t what bothered her. He had this crazy gleam in his eyes, one that really screamed of mental instability. Not that any of them were completely sane, she supposed, but this guy was totally gone.

At this point, their team was almost at the border. They were to advance until they met the enemy, so Faith guessed that meant they’d have to cross over since they hadn’t encountered anyone yet. She really wasn’t looking forward to this. From what the others had told her, crossing that strange border in the middle of the board was the worst experience of your life. In front of her, she and others saw a strange shimmering veil that abruptly cut off the swamp they had been slogging through. The others barely hesitated before heading straight into it, and Faith followed reluctantly. This was the side she had been given, and now she had to ride it out.

She had barely taken a step into the veil when the ground seemed to drop out from beneath her feet and she hung suspended in a black chasm. There was an endless pause, then images began to play before her mind, things she had done, people she had killed, and everything in her life she regretted was displayed in front of her. Her worst nightmares came to life and for a horrible moment were actual things she had to deal with, as if they had actually occurred. After this went on for an indeterminate length of time, Faith realized that it was over as abruptly as it had begun. Her voice hoarse from screaming, Faith looked around shakily. Where a swamp had been a moment before, now stood a forest. The others stood nearby her, all looking as shaken as she. She wondered what they had seen, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. She really didn’t want to know.

The four of them exchanged a look, then spread out, Faith and Kronos in one direction, Adam and Spender in another. At last report, the enemy team they were to engage had been in this area.

* * *

Macleod stayed near Amanda as they scanned the scenery, unconsciously shielding her from the path of any stray bullets or other projectile weapons. Beside him, Michael did the same with Nikita.

"See anything?" Amanda whispered.

"No," Macleod started, then stopped as something glinted from the woods. Squinting, he could make out two figures crouched in the trees. He sprinted towards them, motioning for his teammates to follow. Amanda complied, but as Michael and Nikita were about to, their path was intercepted by something large and inhuman. Adam.

Nikita cursed softly under her breath as she drew out her extra gun and starting shooting at the monster. Adam responded by picking her up by the wrist and looking at her. "That tickles."

He then threw her across the clearing they were in. Michael shot at Adam a few times before retreating slightly to help Nikita up.

Meanwhile, Macleod continued to pursue the elusive and maddeningly fast shadow through the thick underbrush. Amanda, cursing fluently as she lost sight of Macleod as he took another sharp turn, paused for a moment to get her bearings. At that moment, a figure stepped out from behind a tree to face her. Although Amanda had never encountered him face to face, she knew Kronos by description, and felt a chill go through her.

"I see your companion has left you all alone," Kronos said with a smirk. "Macleod has a bad habit of leaving his women alone and vulnerable. Of course, it works so much better when he is deliberately lured away. How much do you think it will hurt him if I kill you right now?"

"Not at all," Amanda countered, drawing her sword and holding it at the ready. "Macleod and I might fool around, but neither of us is really serious about the other. If you’re doing this just to get at him, you’re wasting your time."

"I think not," Kronos commented shrewdly, then in one smooth motion, drew his sword and attacked.

* * *

Faith dodged quickly through the trees, using her Slayer speed to stay ahead of her pursuer. This guy was pretty good, she admitted to herself, but he was at a disadvantage as she kept an unpredictable path, twisting and turning through the forest. She did not know why Kronos had told her to draw the man away and leave the woman to him. She really didn’t care. Figuring she had taken him far enough, Faith silently slipped behind a concealing screen of bushes and watched as the man sped by her position, never seeing her.

At the same time that Macleod was trying to find his way back to Amanda, Michael and Nikita were having problems of their own. Michael emptied his clip into Adam yet again, but the lumbering creature just shrugged off the hail of bullets and advanced on their position again.

"We need reinforcements, Alex!" Nikita shouted into her communicator. "Our guns aren’t making a dent in this guy!"

"I’m sending someone in, don’t worry, Nikita."

* * *

Kronos smiled blissfully as he knocked Amanda over the head with the hilt of his sword, sending her flat to the ground, unconscious. He knew the best way to get to Macleod was through those he loved. It worked every time. The woman had put up a pretty fight, but her technique depended too much on quickness and surprise. She hadn’t stood a chance against someone of his skills.

He looked up from where he had bent over Amanda to see that Faith had stepped out from behind a tree and was watching him.

"Led our friend on a merry chase, did you?"

"Oh yes," Faith said, looking down at Amanda. "He’ll be here pretty soon, though. The guy’s some kind of freaky tracker or something."

"Good then. Now I have this little thing, I have him right where he belongs. The palm of my hand."

"Whatever," Faith said, rolling her eyes. Kronos reached to Amanda’s neck and yanked on the golden chain there, breaking it. He looked at the crystal on its end for a moment before tucking it into his pocket.

"I’m going to go find Macleod," he growled at Faith, his eyes gleaming crazily at the thought. "You keep an eye on her. When I get back, she and I are going to have some fun together."

"Whatever," Faith replied again, much less happy. This psychopath really bothered her sometimes, and now was one of them.

* * *

Nikita leaned on Michael’s shoulder, one hand wrapped around him for support, the other holding a gun and firing on Adam. Michael was holding an automatic rifle that he aimed with precision and used to force Adam back a step or two. Unfortunately, they were almost out of ammunition, and it didn’t look as though they had done any significant damage at all. It was when they were about out of hope that help would arrive in time when something flew past them, leaving behind a thin trail of smoke.

The missile flew straight and impacted on Adam directly on his chest. As indestructible as he was, even Adam could be blown off his feet by a military Uzi. Alex lowered the launcher from his shoulder and grinned at Michael and Nikita, who smiled back at him in gratitude. Alex looked around alertly. None of the teams had reported sighting Spender, but the board clearly showed him to still be in this area.

A slight rustle in the tree above was all that gave him away. Taking careful aim through the sights of his sniper rifle, Spender prepared to shoot Michael. If he had fired, it would have blown apart the other man’s head. Fortunately, Alex was faster. Drawing his pistol and firing it the moment it was up, Alex heard a hoarse cry as he hit his target. Spender crashed down to the ground, holding his leg and groaning in pain.

Adam was still on the ground several yards away, thrashing helplessly as he tried to put out the fire that he was surrounded by. Alex walked up to the man that had caused him so much pain in his lifetime and casually reached down. Gripping his throat firmly, he casually yanked, snapping the evil bastard’s neck effortlessly.

"You took out one of their bishops," Methos said with satisfaction into their communicators. "That’s enough for this offensive. Everyone withdraw before they have a chance to regroup."

"Acknowledged," Alex said, turning his back on the carnage they had left behind and joining Michael and Nikita as they quickly retreated from the location. All three of them raised their guns in tandem as a figure crashed through the undergrowth to their left, joining them on the path. The weapons were lowered as soon as they recognized Macleod.

"I got the order to withdraw," Macleod said, not sounding happy at the admission and looked around with concern. "Where’s Amanda?"

"She was with you," Nikita said, confused now.

"We split up," Macleod admitted. "I thought she might have joined back up with you guys."

"We haven’t seen her," Michael said quietly.

"We have to go back," Macleod said, his face going pale. "Something might have happened to her."

"Wait!" Alex exclaimed, indicating the path ahead of them. There lay Amanda, lying limply across the path, clearly unconscious. "But how did she get there?"

Everyone looked around suspiciously, except Macleod, who ran up to Amanda and felt for a pulse. Even knowing that death would not be permanent, he was still concerned about her condition. "It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get her back to base.

No one noticed the pair of eyes watching them attentively from the branches of a nearby tree, and Faith was just as happy. She was not sure what her reception would have been, but she hadn’t been able to leave that lady where the psychopath could have gotten ahold of her. Killing cleanly was one thing, but she had not yet descended to the point where she would assist in the systematic torture of another human being. She knew how her own team would react to her now, however, and didn’t dare go back. The question was, what was she going to do with herself now?

* * *

After every team had returned to base, things slowly calmed down. Scully checked Amanda and found no significant trauma, making her comfortable in a spare room of the castle until she awoke. Macleod loomed by her side, snapping at anyone and everyone who dared come near, especially Methos.

After this, the evening routine took over, reinstating some semblance of order and comfort to their lives. Dinner was eaten and training took up most of the evening. When the class was over, however, everyone wandered around aimlessly, searching for something to occupy their time and keep their minds off the seriousness of their current situation. For some, it was a gathering with friends-Nikita and Willow’s apartment was quite full that evening with people sitting around and sharing stories, trying to lighten the mood. For others, it was a night of quiet vigil and introspection-otherwise known as brooding. For Giles, it was a night to sneak into his own library and find his secret stash-two beautiful bottles of brandy and bourbon.

Taking them out of the bottom drawer of his desk, he sat them on the table with a crystal tumbler, pouring himself a generous glass. He downed it in one gulp, sighing with pleasure as the warm liquid ran down the back of his throat.

"Hey, that’s high quality stuff," a voice said from the door.

Giles turned to see the older man called Walter entering his library. "Only the best," Giles said. He didn’t feel particularly benevolent towards this man, but his well-bred British manners kicked in. "Would you like to join me?"

"Sure," the other man said, sitting down as Giles poured him a drink. Walter swallowed it much the same way Giles had-with intense enjoyment. "As much as I love the kids in there," Walter said, gesturing towards Nikita and Willow’s apartment, "it was sort of a young crowd for me."

"Understandable," Giles agreed, taking another drink. After a moment, he smiled. "I’m sorry, but I have to ask-why a bandana?"

Walter looked up at the bandana around his head with a smile. "It was given to me by Alex as a young child. The only Father’s Day present I’ve ever received. After awhile, it just became part of my image."

"Your image?"

"You know-slightly rough around the edges, but foolishly doting weapons expert. Kind of like that whole British gentleman father figure thing you’ve got going on," Walter explained.

"Ah, I see," Giles said. "But you’re obviously not immune to father stand-in tendencies yourself. Alex, Birkoff, Nikita, Willow..."

Walter shrugged. "They’re good kids. They need someone to look after them in a place like Section."

"Even Alex? He seems to be well-grounded."

Walter rolled his eyes and took another drink. "Especially Alex. His life is enough to screw anyone up if they don’t have help."

Giles let it drop at that and their conversation turned towards other subjects, sharing memories of mutual friends and, as the alcohol flasks continued to empty, sharing personal stories and other things of more taboo nature.

Eventually, both men were so drunk that they couldn’t stand. In fact, they could barely talk. But that didn’t stop them from trying.

"It’s too bad that none of the young’uns have some sissus or bruthas," Giles slurred. "They’d have connections."

"Nikita gots a brutha," Walter slurred sleepily, head resting on the table.

"Who’s that?" Giles inquired.

"Alex, a course," Walter responded after a moment of trying to remember through the alcohol. "’Cuz Nikita’s Operation’s daughter and Alex is his son. ‘Course, he don’t know that."

"Operations or Alex?"

"Both," Walter drawled. "I helped Madeline run’s away and have Alex. She gave ‘im away an’ came back to Section, but some baaaad people founds Alex an’ so she brought ‘im to Section. An’ she never told anybodies..."

"That’s interesting," Giles muttered.

Walter reached over and pulled Giles close to him by the front of his shirt. "Shhh. It’s a secret," he whispered conspiratorially.

Giles looked serious for a moment. "I will no’ tell a soul," he vowed. The meaningful moment soon passed, and so did Giles, his head hitting the table with a loud thunk. Walter reached over and shook him for a few moments, then shrugged and poured himself another drink.

Neither of the men inside were in a condition to hear the door of the library closing softly as someone left the room quietly. Xander stood still outside in the hallway, trying to decide what to do. He had left Willow’s place for a minute to come down here to make sure Giles was alright. He had a tendency to distance himself from the others if he was given a chance, and Xander and the group tried to keep ahead of that when they could. He walked down the hall, thinking furiously about what he had overheard. If it was true, then from what he understood, it was going to be a big surprise for both Nikita and Alex.

As he was passing the practice dojo, on the way back to Willow’s place in the crazy layout this place had, he heard someone moving inside. He peeked in and saw Samantha alone, working through some sort of martial arts kata. Pausing, he decided that she might be able to help him out with figuring out what to do with this.

"What do you want?" Samantha asked without looking at him as she came to the end of the routine.

"Well...I just overheard something I probably shouldn’t have, and thought you’d be a good person to help me figure it out," Xander said, coming straight to the point.

"So what is it? Spit it out, then."

"Um, basically, Walter and Giles got plastered in the library, and Walter said some things...He said that Nikita was Alex’s sister because Operations was both of their fathers, and that Operations didn’t know that he was Alex’s father because Madeline had snuck off to give birth to him in secret."

"......" Samantha blinked wordlessly. "...What?"

"Please don’t make me repeat all of that," Xander requested, only half joking.

"No...no, I think I got it," Samantha said, holding up a hand as the shock began to wear off. "This actually explains a few things I guess. No one knew why Madeline had brought Alex back or why she had pushed so hard for him to stay as an operative in training. It was one of the big mysteries of Section. And there have been rumors for years about Operations and Nikita. We just figured it would never be cleared up. Are you sure about this?"

"Hey, that’s just what I heard. I guess it would all depend on whether or not Walter knew what he was talking about."

"If anyone would know something like that, it would be him," Sam stated with confidence. "That old man knows more dirty secrets about Section than most people would even dream."

"So...what do we do now, then?"

"Well...I’m not sure. Family’s not exactly my area of expertise. I think we should go see Willow. She’ll know what to do."

"You’re right," Xander said, sounding much more optimistic as Willow’s name was brought up. Willow always knew what to do.

"Plus, this is a perfect way to get everyone out of the apartment finally."

* * *

Willow was beginning to get tired, but she didn’t want to be rude by kicking everyone out of the room. Everyone was finally starting to get along, or least tolerate each other for short amounts of time, and that made her happy enough. Although she wished Xander and Sam were here.

Just then, her wish was granted as they walked in through the door from the dojo. She waved and they waved back. But then they kept waving. It took Willow a few minutes to realize they were trying to get her to come over to them. Once she did, she extracted herself from Birkoff and picked her way across the room, stepping over and around the many lounging people crowding her living room.

"What’s up?" she asked breathlessly as she finally reached her two best friends.

"We have to talk to you," Sam said, pulling her into the hallway. Once the door was firmly shut, Sam turned to Xander. "Ok, go ahead," she said expectantly.

"Well," Xander said, drawing a deep breath, "basically, Walter and Giles got plastered in the library, and Walter said some things...He said that Nikita was Alex’s sister because Operations was both of their fathers, and that Operations didn’t know that he was Alex’s father because Madeline had snuck off to give birth to him in secret."

Samantha turned to Xander, impressed. "I think those were the exact words you used to tell me."

"Yeah, actually, I think they are too," Xander said with a grin. Then they both looked at Willow with expectant expressions on their faces, waiting for her to make everything better by knowing what to do.

Willow simple rose an eyebrow. "You guys, this one isn’t that hard. We have to tell them. There’s no other option."

And of course now that Willow had said it, both saw that it was true.

Willow opened the door to her apartment and looked around for a moment, then yelled, "HEY!"

The party all turned and looked at Willow, silent. She smiled. "Sorry, but everyone out. Now."

Slowly, everyone began to stand and filter out of the room without complaint. "I’m surprised you put up with us as long as you did, Red," Spike said with a grin before mussing her hair and leaving. Willow grabbed Alex as he began to leave.

"You stay," she said.

When the room was empty excepting for Willow, Samantha, Xander, Alex, and Nikita, Willow looked at Xander. "Well, go on," she said.

Xander took another deep breath, then let it out in a rush. "Willow, you tell them. I already did this twice."

Willow smiled, then turned to Alex and Nikita. "You two might want to sit down for this."

* * *

About three hours later, a large crowd was gathered in the library. About twenty people were milling around, most in pajamas, some yawning, some alert, but all of them looking confused to some degree. Methos stood next to the chessboard and stared down at it for a moment longer before looking up at everyone.

"I’m sorry for waking you all up, but we have something of a situation here."

"What’s going on?" Alex asked. He was still reeling from the news he had heard from Willow, but the expression on Methos’ face had him worried.

"I don’t really know," Methos answered. "It could be something very good, I guess. Then again, this could be something bad, also, I suppose. I just don’t know what to make of it. Since the skirmish, this piece here has been ghosting around our territory. All of the others retreated back to their own area as soon as they lost Spender, but this one stayed. About fifteen minutes ago, it started changing colors."

"What?"

Everyone leaned forward to get a closer look at the strange piece that was very close to their base and had indeed turned a pale gray color, rather than the solid black it had been. It stood out from all of the other pieces, neither white nor black, but in some kind of transition between the two.

A few minutes later, their meeting was interrupted as the door swung open. Macleod walked in, carrying a protesting Amanda.

"-And for God’s sake, there’s nothing wrong with my legs, Macleod!"

"She woke up," Macleod said needlessly as Amanda fell quiet, fuming.

"Good," Methos said briskly. "Now that you’ve woken up, maybe you can clear up a few things for us. How did you get knocked out and how in the world did you get right in the path of our retreating team?"

"For the last part I have no idea," Amanda said honestly. "I was fighting with Kronos, I remember him hitting me in the head, then nothing after that. I have no idea how I got to where the others were, but I definitely didn’t walk."

As everyone stood silently for a moment, frustrated that the puzzle was no closer to being solved, no one was looking at the chessboard. So nobody among them was observing when the gray piece stopped circling their base and actually entered it. Everyone looked up in shock, their full attention riveted to the door as it swung open once again.

"Hey, that’s a simple one," Faith said, ignoring the blank looks of shock and recognition aimed at her. "I carried her."

Part Thirteen

Early the next morning, Angel was warming up in the dojo, trying to find some mental peace in his churning world. As he beat the punching bag with all he had in him, his thoughts dwelled over the events of the previous night. Faith being here was a complication for everyone who had known her before this. She was like something out of a nightmare or a daydream, or at the very least something from a previous life. And now she was here, even though no one trusted her and it had not been her designated course.

There never should have been two Slayers, of that Angel was sure. One was already more than he could handle. It was bad enough, still being in love with Buffy, but to have to watch her day after day with him, being happy and young and in love and completely oblivious of him. Sure, he had caught her looking at him once or twice, but in was completely different now-she looked at him with almost an expression of pity as he loomed in the dark corners while she reveled in her newfound happiness and her ability to get over him.

He hated that boy. Riley. How could Riley ever possibly understand her like he could? Riley simply doted on her, worshipping her in a purely adolescent way that made Angel queasy. Yet, here he was stuck in this situation, having to see them day after day, while he remained alone and rejected, even after his soul was permanent.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.

* * *

Spike sat quietly, leaning on the windowsill and staring out into the distance, waiting in anticipation. He only turned when he heard the door to the base open and close and saw a figure come to stand beside him out of the corner of his eye. When he turned, he wasn’t all that surprised to discover Faith getting comfortable next to him.

"Do you mind?" She asked softly.

He shook his head and turned back towards the east, watching with relish as the sun finally made its appearance over the horizon. The two watched silently as it rose over the trees and signaled the beginning of the day. When it was over, Spike turned to the Slayer with a smile.

"I haven’t seen a sunrise in a long time," he said.

Faith couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the sun, so promising and pure. "Neither have I," she whispered.

Spike hesitated, then hugged her awkwardly. "You’re in a tough spot, mate. I can blame my actions on the demon, but you..."

"Have no one to blame but myself," Faith said dismally.

Spike was silent, then shrugged. "Ah well. The past is the past. Nothing we can do about it now. This bloody bit about atonement is ridiculous. Just move on, do your best. They’ll get over it all eventually."

"And what about me? Will I get over it?"

Spike shrugged. "Probably not. But you’ll learn to live with it."

* * *

Xander took a deep breath, then knocked on the door. A few minutes passed, and he gathered himself for another try, when a sleepy Samantha answered the door dressed in an oversized tee-shirt. He had never seen her looking so vulnerable and sweet, Xander thought to himself, enchanted. He knew he had a tendency to fall for girls way too fast, and that was something he was working on. At least this one wasn’t a demon or some type of monster, Xander reflected with a touch of cynical humor.

"Hi there," Xander greeted her with his usual perky attitude. "I just thought maybe I’d drop by and see if I could join you guys for some breakfast. There are pretty slim pickings down in the library."

"Um, I’ll get Willow," Samantha said, rubbing her eyes and turning to walk away, leaving the door swinging open. Xander took that as his cue to come in and did so, closing the door behind himself.

Nikita, Willow, and Xander ended up sitting around the kitchen table eating cereal. There were several types. Xander had something sweet and chocolatey, Willow ended up with the kind with marshmallows, Samantha with something nutritious and bland, and Nikita microwaved herself some oatmeal, saying she preferred her breakfast hot.

"I can’t believe you slept that late Samantha," Willow exclaimed when she heard that Xander had woken her up with his arrival.

"Yeah, well, you’re corrupting me all around I guess," Samantha commented, sounding content and well-rested. "Sleeping in is something I could get used to."

Xander blinked at both of them in surprise. "It was seven o’clock in the morning when I got here," he said. "What are you talking about, ‘sleeping in’?"

"When I first met her, Sam woke up every morning at five o’clock. Invariably. It didn’t matter what time she went to bed or what day it was. Even Sundays."

"That’s horrible!" Xander exclaimed, sounding very sorry for the girl.

"I know," Willow added, "She was definitely a deprived child where she came from. You know, she didn’t even know what ice cream was until I got her some."

"What!? No ice cream? I suppose you never watched cartoons either?" Xander asked, shuddering. "Don’t worry, you’re among civilized beings now. We’ll make sure you live a lifestyle that all humans should embrace."

Samantha looked down at the hand he had laid on her arm and the expression of deep sympathy on his face. Then she stole a side-long glance at Willow, who was having trouble keeping a straight face. Finally getting that she was being teased, Samantha pulled her arm and made a show of turning her head away and sniffing ostentatiously. Willow broke out into open giggles and even Nikita grinned at their ridiculous byplay.

"What!?" Xander asked, sounding hurt. "I’m serious!"

* * *

Methos was in the location everyone had come to expect to be able to find him. Staring down at the chessboard, deep in thought, he was studying their new pawn more closely than anything else. Although a faint hint of color still clung to it, Faith’s piece had lost nearly any shade of black. It had become almost entirely white over the period of last night and this morning. She had been demoted from an enemy rook to a pawn on their side, but Methos was not about to reject any help he could get.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps, and one eyebrow raised in surprise as he saw Macleod standing somewhat uncomfortably in the doorway. Seeing that this would take some initiative on his part, Methos decided to make it a little easier on him.

"Come on in, Macleod," Methos said, his tone carefully casual. "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Macleod said, walking over to stand next to the chessboard as well and staring down at it, avoiding the other man’s eyes.

Methos breathed an inner sigh of exasperation. Brooding Scots were never easy to deal with. "Well, whatever it is, feel free. I’ve got plenty of time right now."

"I wanted to apologize. I was rude to you yesterday when you came to see how Amanda was, and I realize now I had no right to snap at you like I did."

Methos kept his eyebrows from raising in surprise. "There’s no need for an apology. We all understood that you were worried about her. This crazy place doesn’t play by any rules we’re used to, and she might have been seriously hurt and not been able to heal like Immortals normally do."

"That wasn’t all, though." Macleod fiddled with the bishop that represented the joined figures of he and Amanda. "I also wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been treating you lately. At first I didn’t really believe it, but with all that’s happened now, the idea of you having a double makes as much sense as anything else does. I know it wasn’t you who killed all of those people. I’m sorry for believing you could have done that."

"Don’t worry about it," Methos said in a subdued voice, past the ability to be surprised at the track this conversation was taking. "For awhile I believed it myself. As near as I can figure, there was some kind of overlap of memories going on between the two of us. I can still clearly remember the Horsemen and what they did. It’s a little more distant now that I know the truth; like I really am seeing it through someone else’s eyes now. You are completely forgiven for that, though. Your nature is to be uncompromising where evil is concerned, and that is what makes you such a strong man."

"Thank you," Macleod said, as if he had feared the outcome of this talk for some time. "I hope we can go back to the friendship we once shared after all of this is over."

"Looking forward to it," Methos said with a smile. Spontaneously he reached out and pulled Macleod into a tight hug. The Scot stiffened for a moment in surprise, but relaxed into the embrace, hugging the other man back.

"I would’ve settled for a hand shake," he said ruefully. Methos shook his head with a laugh as Macleod waved cheerfully and turned to go, saying something about taking care of breakfast for Amanda. He walked around Alex, who was standing in the doorway. Neither Macleod nor Methos noticed the dark scowl the Russian sent after the departing man before turning to look at Methos with slightly narrowed eyes.

"So, what was that all about?" He asked neutrally.

"Oh, Macleod wanted to apologize for a few things."

"...And?"

"Well, we cleared up some issues that had come up between us before this whole thing started. I think after this is all over we’re actually going to be able to go back to our old relationship again."

"I see," Alex said, his voice flat. "I’m sure that will be lovely for both of you."

Turning to go, Alex was stopped by Methos’ arm on his shoulder. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Alex snapped, pulling away harshly. "I’m sure the two of you will be very happy together."

Wincing at Alex’s sarcasm, Methos’ eyes widened as he realized what had happened. He managed a small smile as he looked at his companion. "You silly man. What do you think happened here?"

"I know what I saw," he replied bitterly, again experiencing the sharp, excruciating sensation that had shot through him at the sight of the other two men embracing.

"Macleod and I are friends," Methos said gently. "Nothing more. He’s head over heels in love with Amanda, in case you hadn’t noticed. Besides, what would I want with him when you are right in front of me?"

It was Alex’s turn to be caught off guard as his eyes widened. Methos’ hand moved from where he had cupped it around the other man’s cheek and it pulled him into a tight embrace that both of them could tell was very different from the one he had shared with Macleod.

* * *

It seemed to be a morning for introspection, as yet another man sat brooding that day. His nature quite different from those who shared the distinction of white chess pieces, George still knew what it was to feel sorrow and regret. His biggest regret in life, in fact, was the loss of the woman he loved and their unborn child. After Adrian disappeared, he had turned away from their dreams and plans in grief. That was the beginning of his ruthless behavior and he became known for his ambition and pitiless nature. When he lost her, his life lost all meaning, and though a part of him knew she would not have approved of all of the decisions he made, he had had to harden his heart in order to survive. Eventually, when he looked back and tried to change, he found that his heart had frozen into ice, and there was no way for him to mend what he had allowed himself to become. There was no way out.

It was with that realization that he embraced what he had become and fully accepted that he could never again be considered to be a ‘good’ man. Part of him had regretted that, but that part had been easily silenced. The only thing he had never given up on was the search for his daughter. He and Adrian had been so happy when they found out she was pregnant. They had tried to have children in the past, but had never been successful, even though checkups had proven them both fertile. Adrian was old to give birth at that time, at forty years old, but they had the best doctors at their disposal.

It was during her seventh month of pregnancy that Adrian had vanished suddenly and without a trace. She had been opposing the policies that Section had begun to adopt, and George had warned her that she was making enemies of powerful and dangerous people. Adrian had always been fearless, however, and she would not be discouraged. George had always suspected that Paul and Madeline had a hand in her disappearance, but could never find any proof. Through everything else, he had nurtured the hope that somehow their daughter had survived and was living out her life somewhere, happy.

He had searched for years and tried to find her using all of the resources at his disposal to no avail. Either she was dead, or so well hidden that even he could find no trace of her whereabouts. The odds were against the idea that she had survived, but he still dreamed. He would continue to nurture the hope that somewhere out there he had a child, a little girl who would be good and pure and free of all the shady dealings and dark things he had done. It was the only thing he had left to hope for.

* * *

Cordelia poured herself a second cup of coffee, savoring it as she sipped it slowly. Now that Doyle was back, there was finally decent coffee to be had again in Angel’s office. She set it down on the desk and sat down at her computer. She had found that although she couldn’t get online, the other programs on the thing functioned just fine. At the moment she opened a writing program and began another entry. The first day, she had begun a journal of sorts, a chronicle to try to record what was going on. She figured they should try to find some way to remember this, seeing as it was a struggle to preserve the fabric of the universe as they knew it.

It was just as her fingers had begun to reach to the keys that the vision hit her full force. The scenes flashed behind her closed eyes, moving from one image to another so rapidly that she only knew what was happening through some strange mix of intuition and the knowledge that the power of the visions themselves imparted.

She saw a gray-haired man deep in thought, and knew he was sad about someone he had lost. She saw a flicker of a woman with auburn hair beginning to go gray heavy with child being abducted from somewhere. Next was the baby itself being born, carried away from a weeping mother. She saw the child growing up in abrupt transitions, until the last flash was the child grown to a full teenager, the auburn hair of her mother evident, but the eyes of her father.

Cordelia fell to her knees, clutching her head and wanted to wail with the splitting headache she now possessed. Taking deep breaths helped her regain her composure a little, and she gasped out the identity of the girl she had seen; the daughter of George and Adrian.

"Willow."

* * *

That evening, after a long hard day of trekking through swamps and jungles avoiding the enemy, Scully came back to the castle bedroom with an adjoining bathroom that she was staying in and ran a hot bath. This was somewhat of an ordeal considering she had to heat all the water herself. But finally, after almost an hour of heating water, it was ready.

Scully slipped into the tub with a deep sigh, relaxing as the warm water eased her taut muscles and frazzled nerves. Just as she was really enjoying herself, she heard a knock coming from the door in her bedroom. She groaned.

"Whoever it is, go away!" She yelled, slipping her head under the water.

"Scully?" An inquisitive Mulder said as he pushed open the heavy door and entered the bedroom.

"For God’s sake Mulder, when I said go away did you just not hear me or ignore it completely?" Scully asked as she slammed the door in-between the bedroom and the bathroom shut.

Mulder’s eyebrows rose as he realized what Scully was doing and what state she must have been in. He sauntered up to the now-shut door with a small smirk on his face. "Awww, Scully’s grouchy. What’s wrong?"

Scully rolled her eyes. "Nothing. It’s been a hard day, and I just want to be left alone while I bathe. Do you think you can give me that?"

"Sure," Mulder said agreeably.

"Good," Scully said. The talking stopped, and Scully assumed that he had left. That’s why when she opened the door to the bedroom twenty minutes later wrapped in nothing but a towel and a robe and found her partner lounging on her bed, she was more than a little surprised.

"Mulder!" She scolded.

"What? I left you alone," he defended himself. "I just didn’t want to go back to the office. Lately it’s feels as though I live there, and Skinner’s not a very good roommate." He ran his eyes over his partner, mouth going dry. "Wow Scully, white terrycloth is a good look for you."

Scully paused a moment, then marched over to the bed and pulled him off, dragging him towards the door. "Out," She said with conviction.

Mulder seemed to be complying, but as soon as Scully managed to get the door open and Mulder halfway out of it, he turned back around in one swift motion and without a moment’s hesitation, pulled Scully to him and kissed her.

Scully forgot about the door for a moment in her surprise and kissed him back. The door fell shut behind Mulder, who leaned on it and pulled Scully firmly against him. Eventually, they came up for air and Scully looked at Mulder with wide eyes.

"Mulder...what? I mean, why..."

He shrugged. "I got tired of playing games. With all the chess metaphors in our current working lives, I figured the last thing we need is more hassle in our personal lives..." he trailed off as Scully’s neck came into view and he couldn’t resist kissing it. Scully’s eyes slowly shut and her hands into his hair as she sighed, enjoying the strange but powerful feelings going through her.

"Shouldn’t we...slow down or something?" She managed to get out reluctantly.

"Seven years not slow enough for you?" Mulder asked with a grin as he undid the sash to her robe and kissed her shoulder.

She smiled, all doubts fading as she let the robe fall to the floor. "Plenty," she muttered before kissing him again.

* * *

Although Cordelia had received her vision of Willow’s parentage that morning, things had once again gotten hectic quickly and she had never gotten a moment alone with the red head. Now that it was evening and things were a little calmer, Cordelia knew that she had to tell Willow.

She knocked on the door to Willow and Nikita’s apartment, and when there was no answer, she knocked again, louder this time. This time, there was a thump and some laughter. "Just a minute!" Willow called out.

A moment later, Willow opened the door and peered out, surprised to see Cordelia. "Cordy! Hi! What can I do for you?"

"Can I come in for a minute? I need to talk to you," Cordelia explained.

Willow paused, then opened the door all the way. "Sure," she said, trying not to laugh as Cordelia came in and saw Birkoff on the couch, looking sort of dazed. Cordelia’s eyes widened and she looked at Willow, who just shrugged and grinned.

"We were just...discussing politics," Birkoff said weakly, and that made both girls laugh. Willow walked across the room and sat down next to her rumpled boyfriend. "What’s up Cordy?" She asked, still smiling.

Cordelia sat in a chair. "Um, were you adopted?"

Willow’s eyes widened. "Yeah...how did you...I mean, only Xander and Birkoff know that. But anyway...why?"

Cordelia sighed. "I had a vision. About your father. Or rather, about your parents. Two people named George and Adrian. I think your dad is on the other team."

Both Section techs recognized the names and froze. Willow recovered first. "Oh. Well. Huh," was all she managed.

"No wonder Operations and Madeline pushed you so hard," Birkoff muttered. He pulled Willow closer. "Don’t worry, it’s gonna be ok," he comforted her. "We’ll figure this out."

Willow looked at him and blinked. "I know. I’m ok," she said simply.

"No, you should share your feelings. We’ll work through them. We can deal with this."

"We really don’t need to. I’m fine," Willow insisted. "It’s...interesting." She stood. "Thanks Cordy."

Cordelia stood as well, looking concerned. "You’ll be ok?"

Willow nodded. "For the last time, I’m fine. It’s good to know."

Cordelia hugged her. "Well, I’m here if you need to talk to someone or have any questions." With that, she walked to the door. "I’ll just let you two get back to your...politics."

Part Fourteen

Birkoff woke up slowly, the world coming into focus as he blinked and stretched. His arms then went back around a stirring Willow, who was nestled against him.

"Morning," he said softly, running a hand up and down her back, which made her shiver.

"Stop that," she teased. "We actually have to get out of bed sometime today."

Birkoff groaned. "Really? But we just got here. I like it here," he muttered as he nuzzled her shoulder. Willow let him for a moment and almost fell back under the sheets, but finally gathered the strength to pull away, sitting up.

"I love it here," she said matter-of-factly, "but we’ve kinda got this whole war thing to fight."

"Right," Birkoff said, sitting up reluctantly. "That."

Willow stood and put on Birkoff’s shirt, which went almost to her knees. "Come on, I’ll make breakfast."

She walked out of her bedroom and through the living room into the kitchen. "Morning Sam," she said to the girl who was already sitting at the table. "Want some French toast?"

"Sure," the girl agreed, taking in her friend’s appearance. "Hey, isn’t that Birkoff’s..?"

Just then Birkoff walked in, wearing nothing but his pants. "Thought so," Sam finished. "Hey, Birkoff’s buff!" She teased.

He shrugged. "I had to get in shape. I have a girlfriend to please," he said, pulling Willow close to him and burying his head in her neck. Willow leaned against him contentedly as she flipped the French toast over. Samantha rolled her eyes at her friends’ display of affection, but said nothing. Instead, they began to talk nonchalantly and even comfortably. Sam rose and opened the door just as Xander was poised to knock, and laughed at the surprised expression on his face.

"Come on," she said, letting him in. "Willow’s being domestic."

"French toast!" Xander exclaimed with delight as he received a heaping plate. "Where’s the syrup?"

"In the top right-hand cabinet," Nikita answered as she emerged from her own room. She looked at the small crowd gathered in her kitchen, then at the new and obvious closeness Birkoff and Willow were displaying. "Willow...Birkoff...I mean, are you sure that...that...was a good idea considering the circumstances?"

They both shrugged. "I don’t see what one thing has to do with another," Willow said easily. "Besides, I don’t see it stopping you."

"What do you mean?" Nikita said, trying to look innocent. Just then, Michael emerged from her room and ruined all her attempts at pretense.

"Morning Michael," Willow said pleasantly. "Would you like some French toast?"

* * *

Methos entered the library, still puzzling over the strange dreams he had been plagued with all night. He found Alex standing over the chessboard in thought. He came up next to him and circled his waist with his arms. "Anything new?"

"Not as far as the other team is concerned," Alex said, slightly puzzled by what he was seeing and slightly distracted by the contact Methos had initiated. "But our own players have done some shifting."

"What do you mean?" Methos asked, peering at the board. Soon, he saw what Alex was talking about. Several of the pieces that had been somewhat unfinished before were now completely formed, the two figures that made the pieces now entwined together somehow. While they were puzzling over this, people began to filter into the library for the morning meeting. Scully came in, taking a seat, and soon after Mulder followed. He started to sit down next to her and hesitated, then did so with a sheepish smile.

"They’re acting strange," Methos observed. "Think something’s wrong?"

A grin spread over Alex’s face. "No, I think they did it."

Simultaneously, both men turned to look at the board. Sure enough, the piece that had previously represented Mulder and Scully was one of the ones that had been completed overnight. "There certainly was a lot of that going on last night," Alex said with a smile as he noted the completion of not only Mulder and Scully’s piece, but also Birkoff and Willow’s as well as the new clarity of both the Queen and King.

"My dreams," Methos thought aloud.

"What dreams?" Alex asked, concerned.

"All night last night I had dreams of couples we knew, connections they shared. I don’t remember much, but I think that the reason every higher level piece on the good side is made of two people indicates that those two are soulmates, part of the same whole. They were made for each other, to enhance the other in every aspect."

"Well, if that’s the case, why don’t the Evil higher levels have soulmates?" Alex asked.

Methos shook his head. "Love is a force of Good. Evil would reject it."

"What about the pawns? Don’t they have soulmates?"

"It’s possible. I’m sure they’ll manage," Methos said with a smile, thinking of Cordelia and Doyle’s relationship.

"And us? Where are our soulmates?"

Methos pulled him closer. "We’re each others, of course."

With that figured out, they called the meeting to order.

* * *

As everyone gathered their arms and finished the last preparations for the battle that was clearly about to happen, according to Methos and the chessboard, Macleod searched out Amanda, handing her her favorite sword.

"Lose something?"

Amanda rewarded his efforts with a wide smile, kissing him before taking the sword. Macleod had trouble letting go of her, fear for her filling him. He pulled her close. "I don’t want to lose you," he whispered.

She smiled. "You won’t," she assured him. "We’ll stick together."

"Whatever happens, happens to both of us," Macleod vowed. "I love you."

Amanda smiled. "So melodramatic. I love you too. Now come on, let’s go help save the world."

* * *

Samantha kept a close eye on Xander who was creeping along at her side crouched low on the creek bed. It had been a relief to find a nicer climate after they had pushed through that desert region to get here. The mission briefing had described the enemies’ movements, and their own response. Her team, consisting of She and Xander, Amanda and Macleod, and Buffy and Riley, would meet the first prong of the enemy attack. The second prong, coming at their base from the opposite direction, would be headed off by Michael and Nikita, Willow and Birkoff, and Mulder and Scully.

This left the base mostly unguarded, however. The other side had kept quite a few pawns in reserve, and Methos was not sure of what he intended to do with them. To make sure the base was always defended, Alex had organized all of their pawns into a sort of brigade that he would lead if anyone penetrated far enough into their territory to threaten the base. This left everyone outside except Methos, who would be watching the board and warning them of troop movements, and Faith, who would stay with Methos. They did not quite trust her far enough to let her fight yet.

As the teams got closer to where the enemy was supposed to be located, Samantha began to focus on the coming battle. This would the first chance she had been given to actually make a difference in this war, and she intended to make the enemy hurt. She glanced over in the direction where Buffy and Riley were moving, keeping up in their positions to the left flank. Once they had entered the field, she and Buffy had seemed to wordlessly agree to forget their personal differences for the duration of the action. That said nothing about when the battle was over, of course.

The attack that they would be intercepting was led by Adam according to Methos, studying the pieces. He was accompanied by Operations and Agent Fowley. The teams had been designed by Methos to maximize their abilities and work with the weaknesses he had worked out about their enemies. The other team would be facing George, Kronos, and the vampire versions of Willow and Xander.

The team stopped advancing as Methos’ voice spoke into their ears. "The enemy team is directly in front of you. You should be right on top of them."

They took a few more steps forward through the shallow water, then climbed up onto the base as they caught sight of their objective. Adam was standing in plain sight, clearly waiting for them on the bank. They knew Operations and Fowley were in the area somewhere, presumably under cover. Samantha stepped off to one side, taking up one of the most basic stance in Tai Chi. Her feet braced apart on the ground, her hands cupped slightly apart, cupping the air at the level of her abdomen. Xander took his position nearby, guarding her back, as small tendrils began to dance between her fingers.

Amanda and Macleod moved directly to the offensive, swords flashing. Adam, expecting Buffy and Riley to attack him, was thrown somewhat off balance by the quick, confusing tactics that the group was displaying. Macleod ducked beneath his swinging arm that tried to hit the swordsman, and slashed at the monster’s unprepared back. A thin line of blood appeared, but nothing near as incapacitating as the wound would have been in a normal creature. While he was turning to take another swipe at Macleod, Amanda tumbled into range in a blindingly fast move and took her own slice out of the thing with her blade. Flipping out of his reach, Adam let out an enraged roar as his opponents managed to stay just out of his powerful hands.

Meanwhile, Buffy and Riley had spread out into the trees surrounding their position to try and find the other two they knew were close by. Riley was knocked off of his feet as a bullet impacted forcefully in the center of his chest. Rubbing the spot with one hand, he climbed shakily to his feet, thanking Alex in his thoughts for the bullet-proof vests he had thought to distribute to the soldiers today. Staying low, he crept over behind a nearby group of trees.

A moment later, the figure of a woman was seen stalking over to where he had fallen, gun out and tracking along her line of sight. Looking for a target, she searched the spot where he should have been lying, getting more frantic as she found no sign of the corpse that should have been there.

"He was wearing a fucking jacket!" She exclaimed furiously, but it was too late.

Buffy, who had approached her on silent feet from behind, reached out and effortlessly plucked the gun out of her tightly clenched fingers. Pulling back a fist, Buffy let swing, and Fowley had time for one yell before she impacted hard with a tree several yards away.

"That was for shooting my boyfriend," Buffy said with a great deal of satisfaction.

She walked over to where Riley was standing, reaching out to examine his chest for injury. She never saw Fowley reach into a holster that had been concealed under her pant leg at her ankle. She aimed the gun with a shaking hand, still not fully recovered from the powerful blow, but as she was about to fire, Riley caught sight of what she was doing over Buffy’s head and whipped his gun out, drilling a bullet through the precise center of the woman’s forehead. Buffy spun around in shock in time to see the small gun slipping from her limp fingers.

She turned around once again and fiercely embraced Riley, trying to put all of her love and gratitude into the hug. "There’s still one more we have to deal with," Riley said gently, pulling away. Buffy nodded in agreement, sniffing once or twice. Then her eyes hardened in an expression anyone who had seen her slaying would have recognized.

"Let’s go."

* * *

Michael moved confidently through the rocky waste. He and Nikita never stumbled; countless missions over terrain such as this allowing them to adapt to whatever environment they found themselves in quickly and efficiently. Mulder and Scully were backing them up. Both carried their FBI issue firearms as well as various other weapons secured about their persons. Scully carried a large, high-tech sniper rifle in addition to her other guns. She had always been a skilled marksman, and if she could find a secure perch, then she would station herself there to pick off members of the other team. Willow and Birkoff stuck close together, their guns out and aimed ahead of them.

Everyone looked around, startled, as the sound of high-pitched giggles echoed through the deserted landscape. Willow groaned quietly to herself. The other versions of herself and Xander were psychopathic creatures, and their encounters had always been very difficult to handle by their doubles. Now the two of them stepped out from behind an outcropping of boulders, vampires faces full on. At least there would be no confusing the two Willow’s everyone thought, taking in the vampire’s revealing leather outfit.

Willow and Birkoff split off from the group to find their own target; they were gunning for the Immortal of the group, Kronos. Mulder and Scully had their own objective; they were to find and eliminate George. That left Michael and Nikita to face the pair of vampires. Michael had argued that if they pumped them full of enough bullets, they would have slowed down enough for the two of them to stake them, lack of experience notwithstanding.

The two Section operatives opened fire on the pair of vampires, forcing them back. Leaving them to it, Mulder and Scully headed away to a promising looking rock that would probably be a good sniper position. Willow and Birkoff encountered their enemy first of the two of them. Kronos swung his broad sword at the two of them from behind a concealing boulder with wild laughter. Willow barely managed to dive into a reflexive summersault under the blade. Birkoff threw himself backwards and fell on his back as he tripped over a stone on the way back.

Willow came up from her controlled roll smoothly and aimed her gun as she was rising to her feet. Opening fire on the Immortal, Willow got him in the shoulder as he thrust himself away from the gunfire. Dropping the sword now that his ambush had failed, Kronos pulled out an automatic weapon of his own, he started shooting at the two teenagers. Willow and Birkoff ran in opposite directions, searching for cover.

Giving up on their guns, which just weren’t doing enough damage, Michael and Nikita had closed in to attack at hand-to-hand range. Though the vampires had the advantage of superior strength, Section had trained the two of them, and they had raised combat to an art form. Alex might have been the most deadly operative Section had known, there was no team that could come close to the damage Michael and Nikita could do when they worked together.

* * *

Back at the fight with Adam, Macleod and Amanda were running into problems. No matter how many strikes they managed to get past Adam’s guard, he seemed completely oblivious to the damage. They had only been fighting for a few minutes, but he was already bleeding from dozens of cuts. They had managed to avoid getting hit with a full force blow themselves, but the small hits that Adam had managed to connect with had done the two of them more damage than they had caused him so far.

Xander fidgeted nervously next to Samantha, feeling like he should have been doing something other than just standing there. He had no way of knowing how Buffy and Riley were doing, and that really had him worried. He didn’t let the thought distract him, however. He searched the area diligently for any sign of approaching enemy. Samantha stood next to him, eyes closed, her entire focus concentrated on the energy she was summoning to her hands. The small tendrils of lightning that had first appeared had formed into a solid ball of energy that was slowly growing brighter and more powerful. It was not yet stroong enough to have enough of an impact on Adam, however.

Buffy and Riley, searching for Operations, didn’t realize that he was never meant to be found. His arm still had not fully healed from the crossbow bolt, and his presence was only meant to be a decoy to pull some of the attackers away from Adam momentarily so that he could more easily eliminate those who challenged him.

It was at that point that Adam stopped holding back. Adam raised his arm, letting the blade that was a part of his arm slide out of its sheath. In a move too fast for Amanda to follow, it stabbed through her chest. She fell to the ground, clutching the wound and gasping for breath. Macleod, with a bellow of rage, struck with his katana. Aiming for his other arm, the enraged Scot was almost as surprised as Adam when his sword passed cleanly through the monster’s flesh, severing his hand from his body.

Adam’s turn, he struck with his own blade once again. Macleod dropped his sword from his weak fingers as the blade bit deep into his side before he could bring it up to defend himself. Dropping down to his knees and holding his hands to his side in an effort to stop the bleeding, Macleod did not look up. So he did not see the blade that Adam raised with his arm to come sweeping down across the Immortal’s neck, cleanly separating his head from his shoulders. Before the quickening even had time to form, the blade continued on its sweep downwards to where Amanda lay on the ground, adding her head to the one already lying next to Macleod’s body.

The lightnings that began to form over the two dead Immortals, both of them powerful and experienced, had no receptacle to flow into. Except Samantha, who was summoning such energy to herself with all of her willpower. In one blinding flash, the energy answered her call, flying to her hands. Unfortunately, she was unprepared to handle such a strong and sudden influx of power. Her body blazed with electricity as it surrounded her in a blinding glow. Xander was flung off his feet by the power as her mouth opened in a silent scream.

Adam began to move towards them, intent on killing the rest of the members of their team. ‘No!’ Xander thought to himself. ‘She isn’t ready yet! She can’t control it.’ Determined to try to protect her, no matter how futile it might be, he stepped between her incandescent form and Adam. Before the creature reached him, however, someone stepped between the two of them.

Xander blinked in surprise as he saw Buffy deliver a stunning roundhouse kick to Adam, knocking him backward several feet. She did not let up, but continued with a flurry of kicks and punches, never giving him a chance to retaliate. Though she was probably bruising her hands more than she was hurting him, she was succeeding in pushing him backwards, away from the helpless Samantha. He finally managed to respond to her attack, getting in one good hit that sent her flying across the fight zone and into a hard collision with a tree. During their skirmish, no one had been watching Samantha, who had stopped glowing quite so brightly. Instead, the light was concentrated in her outstretched hands, which were pointing towards Adam.

"Ignore this," she intoned, letting the energy go. The lightning leapt from her hold, eager to be free, lunging undisciplined in the direction she had sent it. Adam didn’t even have time to bring up his arms as the force, traveling at the speed of light, hit him square in the chest. He was lifted clear off of his feet and propelled through the thin screening of trees that surrounded the creek bed they had been fighting beside. They saw him crash through several trees, then heard him crash through several more as he flew out of sight with the powerful blow.

"Team One, full retreat," they all heard from their communicators. "Knowing they had lost a great deal of their strength when Amanda and Macleod had fallen, the others offered no argument, and began to withdraw with no complaint. Samantha had collapsed to the ground as soon as the lightning had left her hands, and Xander carefully lifted her in his arms, tenderly folding her scorched hands against her chest as Riley rejoined them and they headed back towards base.

* * *

Near the base, Alex was getting ready for an attack. He hadn’t really believed the other team would send a third offensive into their territory to attack the brigade of pawns he had assembled, but they had. Now he had to see about stopping them, even though most of his strength had been sent away with the other teams. Methos had warned him that Madeline was leading a force composed of several of the other side’s pawns. It was probably just going to be a feint to see how far they could penetrate into enemy territory, but Alex intended to take it seriously. Neither side could afford to lose their queen at this point, so both sides would probably just cautiously feel the other out, then retreat.

His team was spread out thinly, since Madeline had split her forces up to come at him from many directions at once. All she wanted was to eliminate one or two of his pawns, however. In a game of chess, a ruthless player did not care if at times pieces were sacrificed in order to take others out with them.

Giles and Skinner had been sent to one corner of the defensive net, holding the edge. They heard a ghostly and eerie humming before they caught sight of any sign of the enemy. Giles recognized Drusilla’s psychopathic voice right away. "It’s a vampire," he warned his companion in a tense whisper.

Back when Giles had first encountered the female vampire, she had been weak and helpless, depending entirely on Spike for her survival. She had recovered that strength with interest since then, however. With the speed of a striking snake, she appeared behind Giles and knocked the crossbow he was armed with out of his hands. She stabbed the knife she was holding into his stomach in a move just as quick. Grabbing the hilt of the blade, Giles kept enough presence of mind to realize he shouldn’t pull it out before darkness overcame him.

Skinner, only armed with a gun, watched with wide eyes as she turned from her first victim to gaze at him with a terrifying, vacant expression. "Hello, dearie. Now that precious is dead, will you play with me?"

Raising the gun in trembling hands, he emptied the chamber into her heart. Though she winced and stumbled, the bullets could not stop her. Grabbing the much larger man by the throat, she locked his head in place. "Yum"

With that comment, she lowered her fangs to his neck, drinking deeply from the thick artery in his neck. The slurping went on for a few minutes, before Drusilla’s eyes abruptly became very wide. "Oh, my," she breathed in surprise, a moment before dissolving into a cloud of dust.

Krycek stood behind her with a stake, looking down at Skinner’s dead eyes with regret for a moment before turning to Giles, who could still be saved. The other pawns were doing a little better in their defensive strategy. Drusilla had been the main threat among their attackers. Once she was neutralized it was relatively easy to push the others back. As Methos confirmed that all of the enemy pieces were falling back from their base, Madeline having stayed far back from the combat and never seen, there was only one last pocket of fighting still going on.

* * *

Still deadlocked, Michael against Xander and Nikita with Willow, neither could gain a definite advantage over the other. Not far away, Scully had found a target, however. Her finger tightened on the trigger as she carefully sighted through her scope at the older man standing with his back to another boulder about fifty yards away. The crosshairs aligned perfectly over his heart, Scully squeezed gently. A fraction of a second before the shot went off, a knife flew past her arm, a bit off in aim, so only grazing her shoulder. Startled, the gun was pulled off balance as she fell backwards, and the shot missed. Kronos grinned as he realized he had saved George’s life. Who knew he was so nice?

Willow and Birkoff, who had lost Kronos when he raced off in the middle of their battle, arrived hard on his heels. This time, Birkoff got a shot off before he had time to dodge, and he was hit solidly. Cursing, the ancient Immortal retreated, clutching his chest, still surprisingly fast in spite of his wound. Mulder, who had been approaching George in case Scully missed with her first shot, got close enough to the man to take careful aim with his smaller Sig. Mulder closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think of this as anything besides murder. He opened his eyes, his resolve firmed, and shot the man known as Oversight without any more hesitation.

George dropped to the ground, hard. Scully and Birkoff had split off to try to find where Kronos had fallen and finish him off, while Willow decided to go see if Mulder needed any help. As she approached where he was standing over the body of the enemy, she paled as she realized exactly who had just been shot. Falling to her knees beside the dying man, Willow reached out to grip his hand.

"Hey," she said softly.

George looked up at her and smiled, recognizing the characteristics of Adrian’s face that were so prominent in Willow’s. Happiness seeped through him. "You know who I am," he gasped out.

Willow nodded. "It’s recently been called to my attention, yes."

George smiled again, then gasped in pain, and tears filled Willow’s eyes. "I’m glad I got to meet you," George said, reaching up and cupping his daughter’s face.

The tears spilled over as Willow watched her father die. "Me too."

After a moment, she closed the dead man’s eyes and kissed him on the forehead before standing. "You knew him?" Mulder asked as they followed the order to return to base, pain in his eyes over the thing he had just done.

Willow shook her head. "No."

"Then why..?"

Willow turned back to look at the fallen man. "He was my father."

Mulder gasped in surprise and pain, but Willow put an arm around him. "It’s ok," she assured him. "There was no other way."

They walked like that for a moment, then Alex’s voice sounded urgently through their earpieces. "Scully, get back here NOW. We have wounded."

* * *

As soon as Xander arrived at the base, Samantha in his arms, Alex took her and placed her in a makeshift cot in the library. People were scattered all around the room, confused and trying to find everyone they were close to, verifying their survival. Xander refused to move from Samantha’s side, however.

When Buffy entered the library, she was almost immediately assaulted with the image of her mentor and father figure lying in another cot, bleeding severely from the stomach.

"Giles!" She sobbed as she ran to him. "Somebody do something!"

"I tried," Alex explained. "But I’m not a doctor."

"I am," said Scully as the last team finally arrived. "Step aside please."

Buffy reluctantly moved and let Scully survey the situation. "Do we have any sterile instruments? Some hot water? This wound needs to be cleaned and sewn up."

"I’ll get them," Faith, who had lurking in a corner, volunteered. Scully tore some sheets from the cot and pressed them against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"I don’t think the knife hit any vital organs, but he’s lost an incredible amount of blood," Scully said matter-of-factly. Faith arrived with the water and Scully looked apologetically at Giles before beginning to clean out the wound. "I don’t have any antiseptic," she said softly.

"Just sew the bloody thing up," Giles hissed.

"I’ll donate," Buffy exclaimed. "We’re the same type."

Over-hearing this, Nikita ran to go get her medkit, which contained the materials for a transfusion. Meanwhile, Scully threaded a needle and them looked at Giles. He nodded and Buffy took his hand while Scully stitched up the wound. With that done, she started the transfusion between Buffy and Giles.

Xander, completely panicked by now, started yelling by Samantha’s side. "Hey! Could I get some help over here?"

Willow and Birkoff, who had been watching the scene with Giles solemnly, ran towards him. "Oh God, not Sam too," Willow said, breaking down into sobs. Birkoff pulled her into his arms, staring at Sam with glistening eyes.

Scully pushed through the crowd and looked at Samantha. "What happened here?" She asked as she started CPR.

"She was channeling energy to strike down Adam. She knew she would need a huge amount to really get him, so she was already pushing herself, and then Amanda and Macleod died and their lightning things hit her and really overloaded her system," Xander explained. "She hit him, but practically fried herself in the process."

"Her heart’s stopped," Scully said as she labored through CPR. "The heart runs on electrical impulses-it wasn’t designed to hold in that much energy." Her motions slowed and she looked at Sam, then at her friends. "There’s nothing I can do. She’s dead."

* * *

Methos stared at the chessboard, his eyes hollow with grief. Even when Alex came up behind him and pulled him close in gesture of comfort, his eyes never wavered from the game pieces.

"We lost four people today," Methos said softly. "And one is seriously injured. Two of them were my friends, one was a man who bravely tried to save another, and the last was a young girl, her whole life ahead of her. People were devastated today."

"Including you," Alex said softly.

"Including me," Methos agreed. Then a cynical smile spread across his face. "But hey, we killed three of their men and seriously incapacitated a forth. And that’s supposed to justify this slaughter."

In a flurry of movement he swiped his hand across the board and upset all of the pieces. Seconds later, they all gravitated towards their squares and re-instated themselves into the correct positions. Methos dropped his head into his hands in a mixture of fury and despair and Alex could do nothing but hold him close as he grieved.

Part Fifteen

Scully tended to Giles in silence, changing his bandages for the second time. The bleeding had slowed to almost nothing in the past couple of hours, and since the transfusion he was faring much better. Given enough time and regular anti-biotic shots to curb infection, he would live. It was a great comfort to everyone from Sunnydale.

It was awful that Samantha hadn’t had the same luck. Her death had hit the younger generation hard. Xander walked around as though in a daze, Willow had been so upset that Birkoff, who wasn’t doing particularly well himself, had had to carry her to bed and stay with her until she fell into a drug-induced sleep. Not to mention Mulder’s reaction. He had just found his sister and come to a kind of understanding with her. To lose her now, when their relationship had been so promising, was tearing him up.

The death of Skinner lingered in her own mind. Although she had never been particularly close to him, Skinner had been a good man. Over the years he had helped Mulder and Scully in numerous ways, and the loss of him made this entire situation seem needless and ridiculous. Why should they have to deal with the differences of these so-called deities?

Why should they have to suffer?

* * *

After hours of wandering around aimlessly, Xander finally found a dark corner of the Bronze and curled up on a couch, staring into the shadows.

He lost track of everything and listened to nothing but the beating of his own heart. His cruel heart that continued to beat ceaselessly when hers hadn’t been strong enough. This pain that had consumed him was beyond everything he had known, even Willow’s supposed death months ago. And he hadn’t thought he would survive that.

"When did you fall for her?" A voice said from the shadows.

Xander looked up to see Birkoff standing next to him. He shrugged. "I don’t know. The moment I saw her. The first time I heard her speak, made her smile...it was inevitable and unavoidable. But none of that matters now, does it?"

Birkoff sat next to him, sighing. "It was like that with Willow, you know. Like we couldn’t help but fall in love and when it happened, you only noticed that you felt like...more than you did before. If I lost her," he said with a shudder. "I’d die."

Xander understood that Birkoff wasn’t being dramatic or mocking but simply truthful. In that moment, the two men became life-long friends. "So you know I how feel," Xander said.

"Yeah. It’s a good thing it doesn’t have to stay that way," Birkoff said nonchalantly. At Xander’s look of surprise, Birkoff smiled. "You’ve forgotten the rules: if at any time a player reaches the opposite end of the board, they can resurrect another."

Xander simply blinked, not able to comprehend such an idea right away, but then the words sunk in. "I can go get her," he said softly.

"Well, you’re not going alone," Birkoff said logically. "Too dangerous. I’ll come with you."

Xander nodded and stood, pulling the other man into an embrace of thanks. When they broke apart, and turned to gather the necessary gear, another voice came from the shadows.

"Don’t you two know how to play chess? The rules says that if a pawn makes it to the other end of the board, they can ask for a player back," Faith said as she emerged from the dark. "But that’s ok, because I’ll go with you."

* * *

Willow awoke reluctantly, not wanting to re-enter a world where there was so much pain. Her mind teetered on the edge of waking and dreaming, until a series of words ran through her head clearly, causing her to sit upright in a hurry.

"If at any time a player reaches the opposite end of the board, they can resurrect another," the Powers had said.

She got out of bed in a hurry and dressed in camouflage before sprinting to the library, where she found Alex by the chessboard, as usual. "Alex," she said simply. "They’re gonna go get her. I’m going with them."

He looked up and smiled. "I wondered how long it would take you. There’s nothing I can do to stop you?"

She shook her head. He nodded. "Be careful. I’ll be watching," he said, gesturing to the board.

She nodded and hugged him tightly. "You be careful too," she warned before leaving. She found Xander and Birkoff in the Bronze, loading up on weapons, with a surprising compatriot. "Faith?" she asked.

Faith looked up, then shrugged at the girl’s expression. "Spike says that atonement is impossible. Maybe he’s right. But I thought I’d give it a shot."

Birkoff came forward. "Willow, what are you doing here?"

She laughed at the expression on his face. "You didn’t think you were going without me, did you?"

* * *

Madeline walked across the camp that served as their central base and looked around for the tent which would be holding Methos. When he found that the Horsemen’s Camp had been one of the locations that made up their base, he had immediately insisted on using it as their headquarters, ignoring arguments that Section One, which was also there, would be more efficient. Madeline walked through the camp, ignoring stuffed and mounted baboons and piles of human skulls with her usual cool expression.

In side the tent, Methos stood, scowling down at the chessboard in annoyance. That last battle should have done much more damage to the other side, he raged in his mind. True, they had managed to get rid of those Immortals and a couple of pawns were out of action. It was supposed to have been a decisive strike, though. Even worse, his own power was diminished. He had lost George, that FBI woman, and Drusilla. Adam had been damaged as well, although those torture specialists from Section thought they might be able to mostly restore his capabilities given enough time. Time they didn’t have, damnit!

"Any changes?" Madeline asked their leader as she stepped into the dark tent.

"Not really," Methos answered her, moderating his voice from the growl that wanted to emerge. Of all the people that had been sent here with him, he respected Madeline the most. The woman was the most capable he had ever met, and had a true gift for causing pain. "This piece here is interesting though. It looks like it has split in half."

"That was Samantha and a boy named Xander, I believe," Madeline put in, glancing down at the rook he had indicated. "It looks like we succeeded in killing Samantha in that last attack after all. She probably died from her wounds. It’s almost too bad. She was always a skilled operative and she would have been quite useful on our side. I was quite impressed with the amount of power she was able to summon to defeat Adam. I still can’t figure out how she did it. The ability had never manifested itself with nearly that much power when she was with us at Section. My best guess is that it burned her out. The human body was never designed to handle that much electricity."

"Well, in any case, they have returned to their base, and it appears they plan to rest there and lick their wounds," Methos said, waving away her observations. "It is regrettable that the battle was not quite as one-sided as I had hoped, but it makes no difference. I am prepared to make sacrifices to achieve victory in the end."

"It was too bad that Faith defected," Madeline commented. "She was a strong young woman, and we could have used her."

"I wouldn’t worry too much about that," Methos said with a sinister smile. Where no one else had noticed, he had seen a small shade of color where none belonged.

* * *

"I really don’t see why you’re getting so upset," Krycek said to Methos, who was pacing through the library in agitation. "They had to go. We both saw how close Xander and Samantha have been getting over the past few days. We need both of them to have a functioning whole, you know that."

"I understand that," Methos said with exaggerated patience. "What I don’t understand is why no one saw fit to consult with me before this decision was made. I was under the impression that someone put me in charge here."

"The decision had nothing to do with either one of us! You couldn’t have stopped those kids from going even if I’d told you."

"Nonsense!" Methos retorted, frustrated. "They shouldn’t have been allowed to just run off like that. Maybe, with a planned, organized operation, they would have had a chance. Now we’ll just lose more people in addition to the ones who have already died."

"Those teenagers aren’t exactly your average kids. They can take care of themselves. I think you’re overreacting. A small mobile team is exactly what we need here. Besides, if you weren’t expecting it, the enemy won’t be either."

"There is that, I suppose," Methos agreed with the warped logic, smiling a little in spite of himself. He stopped his pacing in front of Alex and rested his head on the other man’s shoulder. "How is this relationship ever going to work if I won’t be able to stay mad at you? Arguments are half the fun; or at least making up is. This is going to be just awful, I can tell."

* * *

"What is that?" Xander asked, a terrified element prominent in his voice as he stared at the shimmering area just ahead of them.

Next to him, Faith shuddered. "It’s hell."

The other three looked at her, waiting for clarification. She paused. "Imagine...everything you’ve ever done and regretted being played in front of your eyes, every nightmarish scenario you’ve ever imagined becoming real for what seems like an infinite amount of time. All of your worst fears coming back to haunt you while the worst moment of your life repeats itself over and over. And you can’t stop it."

The look on her face was one of sheer terror as she remembered what she had gone through last time she had crossed this border. It was such a real expression that the others couldn’t help but feel for her. Willow, forgetting everything that had ever passed between the two of them, put an arm around the Slayer’s waist and squeezed tightly, trying to calm her.

"We’ll be there on the other side," she said before they all stepped in simultaneously.

And after an indescribable period of torment, they were. Birkoff emerged and immediately pulled Willow to him, tears of relief running down his face. Xander looked pale and shaken, but ready to keep going, and after a comforting squeeze on the arm from Willow, so was Faith.

* * *

That night, the group still had a long way to go before they were prepared for another battle, but unfortunately, there were still players for the opposite team lurking in their territory. As a result, small dispatches of guards were posted outside of the base-Mulder and Scully, Spike, Walter, Doyle, and Cordelia, and Buffy, Riley, and Angel. Their orders were to watch for the enemy, but only engage if the enemy initiated contact.

Buffy and Riley leaned on the wall of the base, hand in hand while Angel glared at them from his battle stance nearby.

"I can’t believe Xander just went after her like that," Buffy said.

"I can," Riley replied. "I’d do the same if it were you. He didn’t have any other choice."

Buffy smiled. "Well, when you put it like that..." she kissed him. "I just hope they’re ok, is all."

Angel’s vampire hearing kicked in as a twig snapped in the woods somewhere. "Someone’s here," he warned his companions, pushing aside the urge to throttle Riley.

"Team Three, there are three players advancing towards you. Madeline, and two pawns. Be careful," Alex’s voice said through the Comm system.

The three guards spread out slightly to cover more area, each concentrating on their surroundings. Then, in one quick moment, a shot was fired and Riley let out a small groan before falling to the ground.

"RILEY!" Buffy screamed, running towards him. She kneeled next to him and when she saw the wound, broke into tears. He had been shot directly in his temple.

Angel came near to her and tried to pull her away. "Buffy, there are still..."

"Get AWAY from me!" She screamed at him, shoving his hand away.

Angel backed away quickly, searching the area for the shooter. When he thought he caught a glimpse of something he bounded into the trees in pursuit.

Buffy stayed where she was, taking Riley’s head into her lap and simply breaking down. As her sobs quieted, she heard a timid and sympathetic voice come up behind her and a gentle hand slid onto her shoulder. "Oh, Buffy, I’m so sorry."

Buffy wiped away some of her tears. "Willow...I loved him so much..."

"I know," Willow said gently.

"It’s just..." Buffy trailed off, realizing something through her grief. "You’re back already?"

Xander emerged from the shadows in front of her; a grin on his face as the hand on Buffy’s shoulder became a vice. "Not exactly," Willow said before sinking her teeth into the Slayer’s neck.

Angel smelled the blood from his position in the trees and abruptly turned back the way he had come, realizing it had all been a trap. When he reached Buffy, she was sprawled on the ground, barely conscious. Her lips were white from loss of blood. She had been almost completely drained.

Angel kneeled beside her. "God, Buffy," he choked out. "Just hang on. I’ll go get help. You can’t leave me, I love you."

She reached up and grasped his arm, tears in her eyes. "Riley..." she whispered softly before she stopped breathing completely, leaving a shocked and horrified Angel kneeling beside her body.

Rage filled him as he knelt there. How had she come to forget him so completely and be obsessed with another? Others must have encouraged her to forget...traitors like Willow, Xander, and Giles. Willow and Xander were both out of reach, but Giles...

Angel stood with a new purpose. Without hesitation, he strode into the base through one of the far entrances-the castle. Giles had been moved there earlier that morning, where he could be more comfortable. Angel got to his room quickly, and Giles looked up as he entered.

"Angel! You should see this; it’s quite fascinating. A first-edition copy of Poe’s ‘The Raven’," Giles greeted him.

Angel loomed over the bed, a murderous gleam in his eye. He took Giles’ chin in his hand. "You encouraged her to forget me and let her screw around with that military scum, corrupting her against me. And I’ve had to watch them, day after day, and it’s made me ill. For that, you must die."

Angel drew a knife from his belt and slit Giles’ throat in one quick motion, leaving him to bleed to death as Angel exited the now foreign base and headed towards his new team.

Part Sixteen

Xander, Faith, Willow, and Birkoff stood in front of the evil base. "Ok, remember-there’s no way they don’t know we’re here by now," Xander said calmly. "The only reason we got this far without resistance is that they were so scattered before, mainly towards the other side of the board."

Birkoff looked at Faith. "Get in, get her, and get out, don’t try to explore or go and do anything heroic. Bringing her back is heroic enough."

Willow handed Faith two small bags. "Here are the shielding spells. They won’t last long, but it should be enough to get you in and out," she paused, then added a sincere "Good luck."

Faith nodded, then turned and entered the building in front of her without hesitation. Once inside, she found herself surrounded by an expanse of familiar headstones and realized with a shudder that this was the Sunnydale cemetery, a place she had never wanted to return to.

She barely had time to realize this before a man appeared in front of her. His suit was white-she vaguely remembered him being Good. "Congratulations," he said calmly. "You’ve made it very far. Who do you want to bring back?"

"Samantha," Faith said with certainty.

"Very well," Good conceded, and suddenly he was gone, replaced by a very confused Samantha.

"What in the hell happened?" Sam asked.

Faith shook her head. "No time," she said, thrusting one of the shielding spells at Sam, who took it reluctantly.

"Hey, did I..."

"Die?" Faith finished. "Yeah. But you’ve got some pretty spectacular friends. They went through hell to get you back. Literally. Wax on, wax off and all that. Now come on!"

They ran from the cemetery and once outside, were greeted by three frantically happy people. Willow ran to Sam and threw her arms around her, tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she mouthed silently to Faith, who simply nodded. Birkoff, although slightly more reserved, still embraced Samantha tightly.

When he relinquished her, she found herself facing what had become an endearingly familiar face. "Xander?" Sam asked, unsure of what he was doing there.

Xander studied her for a moment, then cupped a hand behind her head and pulled her lips to his own, kissing her with all of the pent-up emotion he had experienced in the past twenty-four hours. To her surprise, Samantha found herself kissing him back. When Xander finally let her go, she looked at him and blushed. "Oh. Ok."

Willow looked at her friends with happiness, then sighed. "As much as I think this is adorable, it’s going to have to wait. We’re surrounded."

* * *

As Alex stared at the board, he cursed. The kids had succeeded, but now they were stuck. He looked at Methos, who was still reeling from the three deaths they had suffered last night. "We can’t just leave them there," Alex said, and reluctantly, Methos nodded in agreement.

"Go," he said. "Bring them back."

* * *

Willow turned to Samantha. "Best course of action?" She asked quietly as the Evil team advanced upon them.

"Concentrate our strength and break through in one place, then run really fast," Sam said.

"Right," Willow agreed, and then the five teenagers rushed forward, blindly shooting anything that moved too close. A blonde woman Willow didn’t recognize headed straight for them, and in silent agreement, Sam and Willow kicked her in the chest simultaneously, the force of the combined blow knocking her to the ground, where her head struck a rock with an ominous crack. The way to the base now clear, the small team began to run, the rest of the Evil team right behind them.

They were staying ahead for awhile, but then one of the stray bullets being fired their way grazed Birkoff’s leg, causing him to fall. Reacting quickly, Faith dragged him behind a boulder, where the others soon joined them. Willow looked over her boyfriend’s leg. "It’s not serious...at least, I don’t think it is," she said finally.

"Except that now we’re stuck, and I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m out of ammo," Xander pointed out.

Things were just beginning to look serious when fresh shots rang out from behind them and a figure emerged from the woods. "Alex!" Birkoff exclaimed.

The older man knelt down to check the wound, then looked at Faith. "Can you carry him as far as the Nightmare Zone? Hopefully reinforcements will be waiting on the other side."

She nodded, helping Birkoff up and gingerly swinging him over her shoulder. "I feel slightly inadequate," Birkoff muttered.

"She’s a Slayer, it doesn’t count," Xander comforted him. "How else could I have any pride left?"

Alex rolled his eyes and covered them as they made a break for the Nightmare Zone. Suddenly, the group stopped. "What’s wrong?" Alex said, turning around only to see the fear-inducing figure of Madeline standing between his group and safety.

"I’m amazed you got this far," Madeline said with no inflexion in her voice, the gun in her hand never wavering from its target. "Then again, you would have been stopped by now if Alex hadn’t shown up. You know, in chess, if one side loses their queen, the game is almost always lost in the end," she commented almost conversationally.

"There are circumstances where that rule has been proved wrong," Alex said, keeping his voice as steady as Madeline’s.

"You were always my best operative," Madeline said to Alex. "What would it take to get you to switch sides?"

"That won’t be happening," Alex said, his voice hardening. "I won’t betray the people who have trusted me to protect them."

"Have you found someone then?" Madeline asked him, a crack in her expressionless face almost showing. At his nod, she almost got a look on her face. "And this person makes you happy?"

"Yes," some of that newfound happiness evident in his eyes. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

Madeline knew what he was talking about immediately, and her eyes widened in a stricken expression. "You were never supposed to know," she whispered. "It was safer for you in ignorance."

"I had a right to know this," he said softly, looking at her with warring emotions on his face.

"You were almost killed once when you were a child because of what I was. I would have kept you from this life if I could have. In the end, however, making you strong was the only way I could protect you. I was serious before, you know. Join us, and you’ll be welcomed. We are the side that is going to come out on top in this struggle. Those with no morals and inhibitions when it comes to fighting always have the advantage."

"I could never do that," Alex said, looking at her with determination written over his features. "You’d have to kill me; I won’t betray my comrades. I’ve had to do many things under your orders that I have regretted in my life, but I won’t do this."

The others, standing to one side and mostly forgotten in the tense confrontation between mother and son, watched silently as Madeline seemed to struggle with herself. The gun actually began to shake slightly in her hand as it pointed towards Alex. The onlookers easily saw the conflict in her eyes, and both Willow and Samantha were shocked by the raw emotion they saw in her.

"You..."

Whatever Madeline had been about to say was never heard, as the pursuing enemies finally caught up to their position. Operations was the leader of the group, and he emerged from the group first. He never hesitated like Madeline had done. Everyone watched in horror as his gun was raised, aimed at Alex, and fired in the space of a few seconds. No one was more surprised than Alex when he found his mother in his arms, bleeding from her bullet wound, clinging to his arms to support herself.

"I’m sorry," she gasped, slipping down. "I was never a mother to you. Now we’ll never have a chance to see if you could have loved me."

Alex sank down to the ground, hold Madeline in his arms and pressing his hands to the shot wound, trying to stop the flood of crimson. Willow, the only one with any ammunition left, began firing in the direction where Operations had come from, sending him diving for cover.

"Alex! We have to get out of here! Willow’s buying us a few seconds, but..." Samantha shouted, not wanting to break the two of them apart, but knowing that if they were going to survive, they had to go now.

Madeline coughed in his arms, her strength fading. She clutched at him with a sudden, desperate strength. "You have to...find...balance," she gasped out with her last breath, closing her eyes and sighing as her body gave up the struggle.

Alex hugged her body to him for a moment, then with a strangled sob, got up and picked up the gun his mother had dropped, tossing it to Samantha. "Let’s go," he said, his voice rusty and slightly hollow.

* * *

On the far side of either board, both versions of Methos were frustrated. One believed the whole situation to be ridiculous; having to stay put and simply give orders instead of participating in the carnage himself. What was the point of that?

The other was tired of being protected as well. Because of some dumb rules to a board game, he had been prevented from stopping this thing at its inception, and now so many were dead.

And simultaneously, both decided that it was time for this to be over. They would do this themselves.

They both stormed out of their bases and walked steadily towards the center of the board, knowing somehow that there they would find the resolution that they sought. As they approached each other, every obstacle and building on the board began to fade, and by the time they faced one another, every player could see the scene clearly across the simple clear expanse of a black and white chessboard.

Methos stopped walking as he came face to face with his double, looking in his eyes. He could remember everything this twisted version of his being had ever done, and the things were dark and terrible. Memories swept through him and he couldn’t move.

His double was experiencing the same phenomena, but instead of remembering his own unsavory past, he was flooded with images from his double’s mind. Memories from his friendships with Amanda and Macleod seized him, the power of his newfound love for Alex, and five millennia of other pleasant memories assaulted his senses.

Only in that moment, after everything they had been through in their lives and in the past few days, could they have come to accept one another as they did. As everyone who remained on their teams watched silently, the two replicas simply and gracefully reached out their hands and touched them together gently. The second they came into physical contact, the two figures melted away, and only one man stood at the center of the board.

Methos turned his hands over, studying them with a small smile that spread across his face. Suddenly, there was a flash of light and everyone except for Methos and Alex were frozen in place as two very befuddled forces appeared in front of the oldest man alive.

"What did you do?!" Good exclaimed, staring at Methos accusingly.

Methos shrugged. "I don’t know," he admitted.

"This was not supposed to happen," Evil said forcefully.

Alex walked across the board slowly, putting his arm around Methos as he faced the beings. "It’s balance," he said simply. "Madeline was right."

Good and Evil simply turned their expansive gazes on him, confused. "Balance was not the purpose of this game," Good said.

"Elimination was," Evil finished.

Alex shook his head. "But you can’t eliminate either Good or Evil. You said it yourself-when the ability for conscious thought evolved, the being you had once been split into two entirely equal yet opposing forces. If two things are equal in every way, one can never defeat the other. In fact, they depend on one another."

Methos smiled, finally understanding. "It was fate," he said simply. "Something even you two can’t predict."

"The fight for balance was inevitable," Alex agreed. "If everything was only one way, people would cease to be human."

Gradually, some semblance of understanding came over the two Powers. "You’re saying that as you and he had to accept each other, so must we," Good stated.

"That seems like something we can work on without your help," Evil admitted. With a wave of their hands and another flash of light, the chessboard disappeared.

When Methos and Alex opened their eyes, they found themselves in Willow and Nikita’s apartment, the rest of their team scattered about the room.

"What happened?" Asked a confused Mulder.

Nikita looked out her window and saw London, then turned to their leaders. "Good question."

Alex opened his mouth to explain, but was interrupted when Xander suddenly cried out, "Hey, look!"

Everyone followed his gaze to a very familiar board lying on the floor. On it, the black and white pieces left were scattered around the board. In the center was a single gray king, pushed onto its side.

"Checkmate," Methos said with a small smile.

Epilogue

"You're really going to go?" Willow asked softly as she hugged Alex.

He pulled away with a smile. "Hey, I think after a lifetime in Section, I've earned an early retirement. We're going to take an extended vacation around the world," he explained, looking over at Methos, who was chatting with Walter. The love in his eyes was so obvious that Willow couldn't help but be happy for him. She knew that look; she had caught herself wearing it more than once watching Birkoff. Just then, Birkoff came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Shivers went up and down her spine, and she smiled. Everyone deserved this kind of love.

"Have a good time," she said finally. "And keep in touch."

"How?" He asked with a smile. "I have no idea where you two are going?"

"She didn't tell you?" Birkoff said with a smile. "We're taking over Angel Investigations in LA, renaming it, and expanding it. We're now going to be an underground company that helps people for a living, period. We're using Adrian's money to do it-the woman was rich and she left it all to Willow."

"I wouldn't feel right keeping it," Willow explained. "And I've gotten so used to being in the middle of either demons or terrorists that I can't imagine not being surrounded by the evil in the world and not doing something. Cordy and Doyle are going to work for us, and to Cordy's great delight, they'll be receiving regular salaries."

"I'm going too, Pumpkin," Walter said as he walked up to the group. When he saw Alex's surprised smile, he shrugged. "It's out of Section but with these goofs. I couldn't say no."

Alex laughed and hugged the old man, then Birkoff and Willow. Then he looked over to the couch, where Samantha and Xander were speaking to each other softly. "What about those two?"

"They're coming with us too. They'll work for us part-time, and go to school," Birkoff explained. When Alex laughed at the idea of Samantha putting up with haughty University professors, Willow shrugged.

"It's what she wants," she said with a smile. "We're really taking all of the younger generation with us now that I think about it-Faith and Spike are coming too. They're going to be our covert ops team."

"It sounds like you have everything perfectly planned," Alex admitted with a smile.

"Pretty much," Willow said with a smile. "Don't worry, I'm sure something will go wrong sooner rather than later." At his curious look, she laughed. "Well, you know you'll get bored with vacation sooner than you like to admit."

Seeing that her brother was about to leave, Nikita walked over to the small group. "You leaving little brother?" She asked.

He hugged her. "Yup," he answered with a smile. "You really sure you want to be in charge of Section?"

She shrugged. "Micheal is taking over Oversite, I'm just going to head Section. I can make it a liveable place for the operatives and still fight terrorists. It sounds like a good plan to me," she explained.

"Me too," Alex said affectionately. "What about Mulder and Scully?"

Samantha, who heard the question from her perch on the sofa, laughed. "They're already on a plane back to D.C. The FBI is their life, and all they need to be happy is to be able to chase little green men and each other. My brother asked me to tell you to keep in touch."

Alex was surprised at the message, and Methos walked over, taking his hand and squeezing it, sharing in his happiness. It seemed that their time in another dimension had forced everyone to come to peace with one another. Methos began to walk out of the apartment, and Alex paused before following him. He looked around the crowded apartment with a smile, watching his friends go back to their lives. He had family now, Nikita, Birkoff, Walter, and Willow. He had friends, Mulder, Scully, Samantha, and the others. He had a man who loved him deeply, without question or doubt, Methos. Though everyone had lost so much in their fight, they had gained something as well, a deep affection for one another. They would never be without family or people to turn to again. He was bound for life to these characters, and though he honestly tried, he couldn't seem to mind it.