Part Ten

RATING NOTE: Some may find this section disturbing as it refers back to the rape of Buffy by the mercenary Sean McKinley. Also be cautioned, this chapter is heavy in anger and language.

******

With an unfathomable expression bordering on 'bored' plastered on his face, Detective Stein crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall.

Detective Marcum crunched his paper coffee cup and tossed it into the wastebasket. "Get to the point Arbogast."

Mr. Steven Arbogast, attorney at law and veteran of uncounted trips to this small interrogation room threw down the metaphoric glove. "Either charge my clients or cease the harassment."

Rupert and Joyce unconsciously moved a little closer to each other and held their breaths. The tension of the moment was still palatable, even though Arbogast had assured them that if the police had hard evidence they would have used it by now.

Stein's lip twitched a fraction. "Don't leave town." He snapped as he straightened up and left the room in a huff.

"We'll be in touch." Marcum added while also heading for the door.

Arbogast waited until Marcum's foot was at the threshold before lobbing another salvo. "Detective Marcum, by the way..."

The detective stopped in the doorway. "What now? Let's hear it."

Arbogast began to usher Rupert and Joyce directly past the detective. "I just thought I better remind you that from this point on, any contact between the Sunnydale's Finest and my clients will be arranged through me. And furthermore, you might want to point out to your bullheaded partner that Mr. Giles's son is getting married two weeks from this coming Saturday in Rutland, Vermont and both he and Ms. Summers have reservations to leave the Tuesday before." The lawyer smiled at Marcum. "And they 'will' attend this happy occasion."

Marcum caught Rupert's eye and flashed him a threatening look. "We'll see about that, 'cause I have a real problem with letting a murderer and his accomplice run around loose." He paused for a minute and without removing the locked gaze from Rupert added. "So I see you're done doin' the daughter and have started on the mother."

"Now see here... you foul, miserable.." Rupert began through clenched teeth.

"Don't say a word!" Arbogast interrupted while stepping between the two men.

Rupert sidestepped around Steve. "But I do have a few 'choice' words I would like to..."

"Rupert!" Joyce said nervously while taking him by the arm. "Ignore him... please! He's just trying to make you do something stupid!"

With a sharp hissing inhale Giles brushed her hand off his arm and went out the door

"Watch it Marcum" Arbogast threatened.

"You too... 'honey'." The detective said while blowing a sarcastic air kiss toward the lawyer. "And we 'will' be seeing you soon."

Stein cocked his head to one side as Rupert went through the squadroom muttering curses under his breath followed by Arbogast and Joyce. As soon as the door closed behind the them he gave his partner twisted grin. "Now you didn't go pissin' him off did you?"

Marcum sat down at the his own desk which faced Stein's. "I sure did. That means... I win."

"You win what?" Stein asked as Marcum bent over to dig the Rayne file out of a box on the floor.

"I win the chance to sit here drinking coffee while you go tell Lieutenant Colbert that Giles and his piece have lawyered up 'and' that the two of them are heading for Vermont two weeks from today." He smiled his own gallows grin, leaned over and tossed the file in front of his partner. "Hope you're wearing your kevlar boxers."

"And I though we had the son-of-a-bitch..." Stein spit as he opened the folder and dug out the various lab and evidence reports.

"We do have him. First degree, premeditated, conspiracy homicide... we just need something hard to nail the lid shut on him." Marcum interrupted.

"I got something 'hard' to nail him with... I'm going to piss on his...." Stein mumbled darkly as he spread the paperwork out on his desk. "No prints, no trace, no stand-up witnesses, no murder weapon... just bullshit that any first year suit could twist into an acquittal." He pointed to a report. "Coroner puts time of death at approximately 9 AM, but the county computer tech says this thing was timestamped at 2:17 PM. Arbogast will take this and tell the jury that the 'real' perp hooked up a laptop and wrote it to frame his poor innocent client. Forget that 'approximately', give or take a few hours.... damn it! I mean... this ties it up." He held the printout up and began to read:

------------------------------

I am Ethan L. Rayne and am being held here against my will byu a agent of Rupert W Giles. He has me brought here to Sunnydale calkifornia from penscola florida on 20-10 to raise hell with Willow ROsenberg. I am out in the countryside somewwhere on a Rangeline road chained up inthe basement. I do not kown this other man-tall -dark hair - 28-30 but Giles has paid him to watch me. this is not a joke they are going to kill me!!! please help! I am going to sendign this to all addresses i can find when he is not l

--------------------------------------

Stein tossed the sheet down. "One thing's for sure, he didn't have time to edit. The hired hand must have caught him at the keyboard..." He pulled the trigger on an imaginary gun. "...and 'plink'."

"We're missing something." Marcum said as he settled forward and assumed the air of a professor giving a pop quiz. "Okay, let's go over the 'for sures'. One: an 'English sounding dude' rents the house and orders the Internet service, sight unseen."

Stein sat back and nodded. "Check."

"Two: This was done in advance of the stiff hitting town."

"Check, stiff got picked up for drunk and disorderly in Pensacola on October sixteenth, same day house was rented."

"Three: Neighbors on Rangeline saw a little, gray, shitbox car at crime scene, could not identify type."

"Check, suspect drives little, gray, shitbox Citroen but witness is not sure if that is the same one." Stein confirmed. "Maybe we should run our witness past suspect's car again."

"Good idea. Four: The suspect is a 'vert who's now got it goin' with the mother too."

"Check, let's keep it in the family." Stein circled Buffy's name on the list of those to re-interview, drawing an arrow to place her between Wesley and Willow. "If you're sure about him doing more than checking out her books for the last three years, maybe we can get the daughter to flip, she might be jealous that mama has him now."

"Oh I'm sure. Remember I spent six years on the sex crimes squad down in LA. He's got the look and everybody we talked to said he spent most of his time with Buffy, that Rosenberg and the Chase girl." Marcum got a disgusted look. "The school librarian... damn, perfect spot for his kind."

"If we could just get someone to talk about it." Stein grumped. "Then we'd have a lever to pry something loose." He held his fingers an inch apart. "He came 'this' close to admitting that he wanted the stiff dead.... this god damned close."

Marcum lowered his voice. "At least he came clean about the magic end of it."

"Like we can take that to the prosecutor. And I could hear the jury now.... the city would end up paying a million in false arrest damages to the cocksucker."

"I know he' behind it; you know he's behind it; he knows he's behind it." Marcum muttered. "And we all know there's a trigger man out there spending that seven and a half grand."

Stein found the copy of Rupert's bank statements. "The day after he got back he used the drive-through over on Wilson to withdraw seventy-five hundred from his savings." He held up a copy of the withdrawn ticket. "Tech says the signature looks 80% good and no useable prints."

"Which Arbogast will point out is 20% bad, which equals reasonable doubt." Marcum chewed on a thumbnail as his mind cranked through the possible scenario. "Okay, he gets back and finds out Rayne has been popped...."

"And it's time to pay up. But he knows we're sniffing around so..."

"...so he lays low for a day which means that he ends up going to the bank on late Friday afternoon." Marcum curled his lip at their bad luck. "Which puts that transaction on Monday's business..."

"And the security tape is on a twenty-four hour loop so all we got is this damned 80% probable signature and a trainee teller who was so dumbfounded by the Friday afternoon rush that she doesn't even remember anyone taking out seven and a half grand." Stein tossed the ticket back onto the pile. "I can't figure out if this son-of-a-bitch is smart or lucky. So I guess this means we hit the street and find out who's flashing cash."

"Yeah... great. I love trolling the gutters for 'unknowns'." Marcum blew out an exasperated puff of air. "We should lean on the two girls and his pal first, before he has them lawyer up."

"Starting with his pal." Stein mumbled while leafing through the papers. "Bet you a Jackson that Pryce will crack like a three minute egg. You saw him at the morgue..."

"Yeah, I saw him. Jumpy as hell." Marcum confirmed. "But still it might take some work to get him to roll over." He rubbed his chin and stared at the squadroom door as if trying to will Rupert to come back in sans lawyer, half drunk, with the murder weapon tied up in a shoebox and feeling guilty enough about the whole thing to waive his rights. "Well let's get going..."

"To make an arrest I presume?"

Stein cleared his throat and suddenly became preoccupied with his pen leaving Marcum to make eye contact with the Lieutenant. "Hey... ah, Lieutenant. We were just coming to see you to..."

"To make me a happy man?" Lieutenant Colbert said with a non-humorous smile. "To tell me the thousand dollars worth of reports you got back yesterday and today were not... bad? To tell me that you got Judge Wylie to issue a search warrant? To tell me you're on your way to close this case? To tell me that I did not see your suspect in here with Steven Arbogast?" He shot them both a look that would peel paint. "Am I getting close, Detectives?"

"Not... exactly." Stein answered with a faint wave of the hand. "The lab reports came back inconclusive and the computer geek found a message for help, but it was written five hours after probable time of death. And, uh... Judge Wylie doesn't think we got enough for a warrant and Prosecuting Attorney Cunningham says nothing we have will stick. So we're going back out to re-interview the daughter and her roomie; the suspect's friend and his neighbors and some of the teachers from the High School."

"And check out some dives to see if anyone is suddenly paying off old bills." Marcum added while grabbing for his coat.

Lieutenant Colbert picked up the lab reports. "And look for this tall, dark-haired, late twenty-something year old man?"

"Well... at least we can ignore all the short, blonde women." Marcum piped in with a grin that he immediately regretted.

"I hope you're this funny in your next assignment... 'patrolman Marcum' that has a nice ring to it."

Marcum audibly swallowed the grin. "Patrolman Marcum... that does flow." He cleared his throat and joined Stein at the door.

"Stein! Marcum!" Colbert called out. "Make me a happy man."

"Yes Sir."

"Absolutely."

The Lieutenant followed them out the door and motioned for them to stop on the stairway. In a low voice he gave them additional orders. "I don't care how you do it. I don't care by what means you find the evidence.... just close this case."

******

"That can't be...." Rupert muttered as he stared at the balance on the ATM slip. "....it's not right.... now what the hell?" He slipped his card back in and requested a second balance ticket

"What's the matter?" Joyce called from the car upon seeing Rupert's expression.

"Almost a quarter of my money is gone!" Rupert said unbelievingly. "Bloody GONE!"

Joyce scrambled out of her car. "There has to be a mistake."

Giles began to wave the ticket around. "Of course there is a mistake! It says that I took out seventy-five hundred last Friday afternoon."

"But you never left the house..."

"I know that!" Rupert snapped. "What in the hell? What in the damned..." He suddenly went silent as the color drained from his face.

"What is it? Rupert? What is..."

"I'm being set up." He whispered. "You know what this looks like, payment for services rendered.... payment for the murder."

"Maybe it's a computer glitch!" Joyce offered. "That happened down at the Gallery, the deposit went into the wrong account. The bank straightened it out the next day." She moved in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "It's a glitch.... it has to be."

"Yes.. it has to be." Rupert said without emotion as he slipped his withdrawn cash into his wallet. "I'll contact the bank in the morning and get this taken care of."

Joyce forced a smile. "Yes, it will all be straightened out in the morning."

Giles rolled his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the tension that filled him. "Ah.. Joyce, why don't you go on home. I want to take care of some things and I believe I could use a walk to clear my mind."

"You shouldn't be out by yourself and the sun will be down in less than an hour." Joyce pointed out.

"It's only a twenty minute walk... and I have some stops to make. I will be back at about 6:30, 7:00'ish."

"And you have that look." Joyce said as she crossed her arms. "You are planning something that you don't want me to know about."

"You are correct." Giles confirmed, much to her surprise. "But I'm asking you to trust me."

Joyce took his hand. "I'll trust you, if you promise to be careful." He reached up, swept a lock of her hair back off her face and nodded his agreement, then turned on his heel and left.

The three magic shops in Sunnydale each filled its own niche. The largest was "Rainbows of the Soul" a place where one could find crystals and new age aromatherapy. It sat on the main drag with cheerful window displays of the newest books concerning the latest fads. They sold some magic supplies, but for the most part their clientele were either not seriously into castings or completely oblivious to the art.

One step downward in location one step upward in sorcery was "Sheila's", owned and operated by a semi-recluse who dabbled in the black arts. There one could find a variety of witchcraft supplies for more serious spells. They had just reopened with limited stocks after the murder of Sheila's clerk and the destruction of the shop by "vandals".

But where Rupert was heading was a small windowless place tacked onto the end of a strip mall; set hard up against the railroad tracks which divided the "good" from the "bad" ends of Sunnydale. A cash only, "no questions asked" type of establishment which sold the ingredients for hard core sorcery.

Giles paid the taxi driver and waited until the cab had cleared the parking lot before he turned to acknowledge his destination. "Verwandlung... Metamorphosis." He muttered the shop name in both German and English as he rang the buzzer beside the heavy steel door. A second rasping buzz told him that the proprietor had recognized him from the security camera and had activated the remote unit which unlocked the door. Rupert took a fast look around and entered the shop.

Neither shelves nor displays greeted the customers of Verwandlung. A bare eight feet of floor space harshly lit by naked florescent tubes comprised the customer's area of the shop. A waist high wall of cement blocks formed the counter which ran the width of the room. To offer protection to the owner, from the ceiling downward to the countertop ran a well attached mesh of heavy gauge steel fronted by a sheet of scratched and fogged Plexiglas. Within the Plexiglas a three inch circle had been cut to facilitate conversation and into the counter was bolted a sliding metal tray which ran under the metal grid, flush with the cement. At knee high level, locking metal doors sealed the pass through for purchases - one on the outside and its mirror reverse behind the counter.

"What'da you want?" The unnamed man in the cage asked without pulling his attention from the TV which sat on the counter.

"Powdered Gerrhosaurus, your entire stock." Rupert answered as he pulled out his wallet.

"I only carry the black-lined plated lizard." The proprietor said while getting a bit more interested in the sale.

"Very good." Giles answered as he tapped his wallet on the counter.

The man gave the TV a final glance and went into the back room to get the item. He reappeared after a minute and sat a cardboard box on the counter. "Got three bottles, that'll be $225."

Rupert arched an eyebrow and slowly laid three hundred dollar bills on the counter. "I know that comes in box lots of four, who purchased the missing one and when?"

Without a second of hesitation the man opted for a $75 tip. "Red headed chick, yesterday morning... laid on the buzzer until I opened up for her."

"Thank you." Giles mumbled as he dropped the cash into the sliding tray. The man pulled the tray under the metal grating and pocketed the money before he bent down to place the 'gerrhosaurus nigrolineatus' into the pass through. With a slam and a click he relocked his side before raising a metal pipe which unlatched the door at Rupert's knees. He then went back to his television... end of transaction.

Giles pulled the box out of the space and pushed the door shut. As the metal bar slid back down into place, Rupert refolded the loose ends of the box to seal it and left the store.... end of transaction.

******

"Ah damnit!" Detective Stein smacked the steering wheel and pointed toward Wesley's van pulling away a block ahead. "There he goes!"

"So?" Marcum mumbled through this sandwich. "We follow him... maybe this is a break."

"Yeah, right." Stein grumbled. "I wanted to yank him out of his house and bring him downtown. Hammer on that nervousness of his... make his asshole pucker so tight you couldn't drive a grain of rice up there with a jackhammer."

"You got a way with words Stein." Marcum said with an approving nod.

Stein flicked on his blinker to follow Wesley onto Main Street. "Stick around and I'll teach you more. Wonder where he's going?"

Wesley drummed his fingers on the seat as he waited out the light. "This is insane... absolutely insane." He yawned and rubbed the stubble on his cheeks, it had been a long two days. Driving to San Francisco and back; his meeting with Uncle Douglas; breaking into a crime scene; hours of research and now a trip to that revolting Verwandlung place.

But if he was going to keep his promise to Buffy he needed the supplies. He sighed and turned onto Depot Street.

"Well one thing's for sure, he's slumming." Marcum noted as he watched Wesley turn ahead of them.

"Yup." Stein said as he turned a block up and speeded up to overtake Wyndam-Pryce on the parallel street. "Two things out here.. drugs and hookers. Maybe we can catch him, literally or figuratively with his pants down."

"Three things.. don't forget Verwandlung." Marcum corrected while balling his sandwich wrapper up. "Slow down and turn right up here onto Madison."

"You think he's...." Stein made a noise of disgust as Wesley's van appeared at the end of the street creeping into a parking place in front of Verwandlung. "Okay, point for Marcum." He grudgingly conceded.

"Pull over! Pull over!"

Even as Marcum shouted for him to pull over Stein saw Rupert approach Wesley's van. He swerved over to the curb and stopped. "I'll be damned."

Marcum took in Rupert's expression, gestures and stance. "He don't look happy that his pal's out shopping."

"No he doesn't. Let's say we go crash the party." Stein chuckled and cast Marcum a devilish grin. "Hang on partner!" With that he attached the flashing light to the dash, gunned the motor, shot away from the curb. Accompanied by the wailing siren he ran the "T" stop at the end of Madison, ran up over the curb and came to a sliding halt directly behind Wesley's van.

Rupert spit a curse heavenward.

Wesley froze, sure that they were there to arrest him for the early morning trespassing.

"Well, lookie here!" Stein crowed as he got out of the unmarked car. "What are you gentleman doing down on the wrong side of the tracks?"

"Ah... well... you see... ah..." Wyndam-Pryce began as he suddenly felt choked by his shirt collar.

"You don't have to say anything to them!" Rupert snapped at his stuttering compatriot. "And I would advise you NOT to say the first word!"

Stein sidled up beside Rupert but spoke to Wesley. "If I was allowed to talk to Mr. Giles I would tell him that he should mind his own business, because you look like a reasonable fellow who doesn't want to make things 'uncomfortable' for himself."

"Right..." Marcum piped in. "...And if I could talk to him I would ask why he dragged you all the way down here in the shittest part of Sunnydale for a meeting?"

"We met here by chance!" Rupert shouted.

Marcum cocked his head to one side and gave Rupert an amused look. "Are you talking to me? Talking to me without your lawyer? You're not suppose to do that buddy.... even if you want to explain yourself."

"Are you arresting me?" Wesley blurted out.

"Should we?" Stein asked back.

"NO!" Rupert interjected as he stepped between Wesley and the Detective. He leaned forward and hissed at Wyndam-Pryce. "Wesssseley, ssshut UP!"

Stein did a fast 180 back to Rupert. "What's in the box?"

"None of your bloody..."

Marcum took note of the lettering on the carton. "From Namibia, so I'd say it's either a box of some mojo from the Skeleton Coast or maybe some black lined." He aped Rupert's shocked expression. "Not bad for a dumb ass cop, eah?"

"Black lined what?" Stein asked.

"Plated lizard... used for some serious, bad ass sorcery." Marcum caught Rupert's eye. "So what you planning and why do you need a whole box of it?"

Rupert inhaled through his clenched teeth. "Miss Rosenberg tried to bring the late Mr. Rayne back and I purchased the rest of the available stock to keep her from trying it again." He shook his head. "It's just too dangerous for a novice to attempt."

Wesley sat back in his seat with a grumble. "Bought all of it?"

Marcum exchanged a glance with Stein then turned his attention back to Rupert. "Yeah, I hear that. A novice should not mess with that kind of shit, but we can." He moved closer to Giles. "So what do you say? We cast it and get to the bottom of this.... unless you don't want us to know the truth."

Giles shook his head incredulously. "We? You are a....?"

"Warlock." Stein said filling in the blank. "After the Mayor and his pals got kacked the Lieutenant recruited Marcum here to come up here and help sift through the pieces."

"I only use my talents to find the perps on standard homicides..." Marcum reached over and straightened Rupert's lapel. "....Like this one."

Rupert brushed the Detective's hand away and took a step back. "That is very well and good, but I do not have anything of Ethan's. Consequently the spell cannot be performed and..."

"I do." Wesley interrupted. "I have a smear of his blood."

Stein leaned into the van and gave Wesley an accusing glare. "You have 'what'?"

"His blood. I came here also to purchase the 'gerrhosaurus nigrolineatus' to do my own casing to put.... a friend's mind at ease." He licked his dry lips and fidgeted. "I broke into the crime scene early this morning and used masking tape to lift his dried blood off of the wall behind the desk. I have it and the rest of the spellcasting necessities at home, ready for the rite."

"Wesley you moron..." Giles began to hiss under his breath.

"So we have everything we need." Marcum said with a laugh. "Plus a lever. You don't cooperate Giles, your pal goes back to England in cuffs."

"Cuffs?" Wyndam-Pryce echoed.

Wordlessly Rupert handed Marcum the box and went around to get in Wesley's van.

"I don't think so!" Stein barked as he gave his thumb a jerk toward their car. "You ride with us back to his place."

Giles stiffened and slammed the van door to express his displeasure. "As you wish!" He growled.

Stein tapped Wesley on the arm. "Okay, you drive straight home and remember, we're on your tail so don't try anything."

"I would not think of it."

"It's open." Marcum told Rupert who was standing by the back door of the Detective's vehicle. Giles slid in and tried to make himself comfortable in the cramped back seat. "No handcuffs? No screen to separate the two of you from a vicious killer such as myself?"

"Try anything and we'll shoot you." Stein deadpanned as he put the car into gear and moved away from Wesley's van.

"Right... but Stein, it's your turn to clean the blood out of the back seat." Marcum added in a serious tone.

Rupert stared out the window for a few blocks before breaking the silence. "I did not murder Ethan or was in anyway involved in his demise."

Marcum turned around in his seat. "So why you having such a fit about this?"

"Ethan hates me... and it is possible for a shade to lie."

Stein looked in the rearview. "You're just having a shitty week all the way around, eah?"

"That is an understatement, Detective." Rupert answered dryly. "A complete understatement."

******

The two vehicle parade pulled up in front of Wesley's flat. The four men entered his residence and began to clear a space in the book packed living room. "So is this going to be easy or hard?" Stein asked as he pushed a pile of books to the side.

Wesley smoothed his hair back and retrieved a volume from the coffee table. "Ah... it's not a difficult casting but it does involve some genuine risk."

"Let me see that." Marcum said holding out his hand. "Hey! 'Die Strichleiter zur Hölle'! Where'd you get your hands on this?"

"It is my reference." Wyndam-Pryce said smugly. "I found it in a horrible little bookstore in Hamburg. They had no idea what it was." He tapped the cover. " 'The Ladder to Hell', first edition circa 1827 and they had it buried in a bin of castoff volumes."

"Which version of the spell is in there?" Giles asked as he came over to them.

Wesley pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "Würdest sein es segnete oders verdammte er, ich rufe der Geist..."

Rupert made a sniffing noise. "Be it blessed or damned, I call the spirit - that should do it. Not that we have to worry about Ethan Rayne being a 'blessed' spirit..."

"You speak German?" Marcum interrupted.

"I understand it better than I speak it. But Mr. Wyndam-Pryce is exceedingly fluent." Rupert said with a nod toward Wesley. He crossed his arms and with a arch of an eyebrow regarded Marcum. "And how is 'your' grasp of Deutsch?"

Marcum met Rupert's gaze and without wavering from it tossed the book back to Wesley. "Lousy. So you two get to call the stiff back and I get to watch."

Rupert turned away and went up to the coffee table where Wesley had the items laid out in precise order. "Splendid." He whispered so softly that the word barely registered on the air.

With a resigned sigh Wesley pulled one of the bottles of powdered black lined out of the box and joined Rupert. "From what I could gather this is a much more powerful spell than the one Willow used."

"Which leads me to my next questions." Rupert growled under his breath. "Exactly 'how' did you come by this information and what 'friend's' mind are you easing?"

"Later." Wesley whispered, giving a covert wave of his hand toward the detectives. He then straightened up and cleared his throat and addressed Stein and Marcum. "What we are going to do is make a symbol in the form of four intersecting crescents; one of consecrated soil; one of unholy ground; one of ground feathers of a nightingale and finally, one of our much coveted 'gerrhosaurus nigrolineatus' ."

Stein shifted a bit on his feet reveling his discomfort. He had been born and raised in Sunnydale. In matter of fact his desire to become a police officer had arisen from the mysterious disappearance of his cousin back in the 60's. But his family had been like all the other blind sheep in this town, never pressing the issue; never questioning; never wondering what was going on.

As he listened to Wesley describe what was going to happen his unease heightened. All those years of spinning his wheels; uncounted 'incidences' that were swept under the rug on orders from the Mayor's office. And this was the crux of it - black magic. Black magic and only God knows what else, a watershed he reached almost two years before when an anonymous call sent him to find Ted Donaldson's four dead wives neatly arranged in a basement closet. And according to the hysterical morgue attendant Ted had got up off the slab, walked out and vanished that same day.

That was when he started asking around regarding Buffy Summers, her friends, her family and her mentor. Stein shot Rupert a look, for he neither cared for nor trusted this man who he felt held too many of the cards.

As Rupert straightened up he caught the dark stare and returned it for a split second before coolly stating. "Well, we are as ready as we can be, so shall we...?"

"So is this what the Rosenberg girl did?" Stein asked.

"After a fashion." Wesley said as he got down on his knees beside the coffee tale. "Ah.. Mr. Giles would you please face me and hold the book? It's the black ribbon bookmark." Then he motioned to Stein and Marcum. "And would you two please kneel to my left and right?"

Giles opened the book to its marked place and scanned the spell. "After a fashion? Yes you could say that. He glanced back and forth between the two Detectives. Will... Miss Rosenberg used a simple 'calling of the shade'. This on the other hand will allow us to travel in a metaphysical sense directly to his current... 'station'."

"As in hell?" Stein whispered.

"You got it partner." Marcum confirmed.

Wesley leaned over and lit four blood red candles in the center of the four crescents. Then with a nervous exhale he touched the blood stained tape to each of the four substances and laid it down at the base of the candles. He raised his eyes and focused on the book which Rupert held before him. Wesley allowed himself the luxury of one deep breath before he began. "Würdest sein es segnete oders verdammte er, ich rufe der Geist..."

As the incantation progressed the holy and unholy ground, the nightingale and plated lizard began to twist into symbols which withered across the table, forming and reforming into petitions, curses, warnings and blessings all created in the lost alphabets of forgotten tongues. A gray pall filled the room as if all the shadows had been given free reign. The flames withered on the candles until they became the barest dots of fire and a heavy sense of dread and hopelessness descended on all.

Wesley raised his voice to shout the last two words of the casting like a bolt of lightning throughout the room. "Ethan Rayne!"

For a nauseating moment they felt as if they were falling as the room faded. But this sensation suddenly halted with a crackle and Wesley's flat suddenly came back into focus. Giles peered over his glasses at his compatriot and with a worried frown gave voice to his expression. "This is not right."

Soundlessly a figure began to materialize over the table but not of Ethan, this was not even a human form but instead the gargoyle shape of one of Hell's gatekeepers. It pointed at Wesley and spoke in a monotone. "Seek elsewhere."

"I command you to bring Ethan Rayne forth!" Wesley barked, knowing better than to let a demon get the upper hand.

"Seek elsewhere."

Wyndam-Pryce reached around the creature and taking "The Ladder to Hell" from Rupert's hand, opened it to the second ribbon marked page. "I do not have time for this. If you continue to be obstinate, I shall bind you to this sphere, trapped in a little wooden box."

Marcum mouthed the words "Very good."

The gargoyle took a snap at Wesley, its beak making a harsh "click" inches from the human's face. "Festhalten... to hold down." Wesley said as he tapped the incantation. "Last chance creature... bring forth Ethan Rayne."

"He is not with us anymore."

"You lying beast of the pit. How dare..." Wesley growled.

The gargoyle leaned forward with a growl. "I am not lying! He was taken to another place and freed." It swung its clawed hand forward in a large arc. "See the truth, mortal!"

In the center of the room a pulsating orb of light appeared which rapidly grew to fill the space. Within it three figures appeared: a man and a woman standing before a naked, shackled vampire in a small bare room. The captive suddenly lurched away from the other two, crying out in a confused, animal like yelp. With a fling of his hands the standing man turned around to address the woman.

"See! Just like I told you!" Aaron shouted angrily, his features changing to revel his own vampire nature. "So what happened?!"

"Offhand, I would guess that your fat-ass friend fucked up the melding." Jessica said with a shrug.

"Who are they?" Marcum asked.

"I have no idea." Rupert said softly. "Melding... the chained vampire has the mark of a melding spell."

Marcum rubbed his chin. "That's big time..."

Stein fought the sudden urge to bolt out the door, but regrouped as his cop instinct took over. He pointed at Aaron. "I think we found the tall, dark-haired, late twenty....

"Yeah... maybe.. he's not what I'd call late twenty's. But where's Rayne?" Marcum questioned.

"Quiet!" Wesley snapped at all of them in the same instant as a crash pulled their attention back toward the vision.

Aaron picked up a second bottle of wine and sent it following the path of the first - straight into the wall above McKinley's head.

"Calm down!" Jessica said with a roll of the eyes. "Maybe I can fix it, if it's not too far gone."

Rupert's mind began to race... a melding spell gone awry... melding brought together human and demon, joined them until one went to ashes and dust. "Ashes." He said as he began to think outloud. "Ethan was cremated... but he was not marked."

"Please shut it up!" Wesley hissed through clenched teeth as he watched the scene. There was something about that angry vampire that was setting off alarm bells, but he could not put his finger on it.

Jessica rubbed her hands together. "Now let's go through this a step at a time. How much blood was used?"

"We didn't use blood, we used his cum." Aaron grumbled. "He raped a woman and came on her shirt. Then the pervert kept it."

"That could explain it." Jessica said thoughtfully. "His essence was tainted by the woman's... but it would have been such a minute quantity that it shouldn't have mattered." She pursed her lips. "Unless he killed her after the act, that could be it. Because when you murder someone that crime marks your soul and..."

"That's not it! Unfortunately she is still alive." Aaron grumbled.

"No, that has to be it." Jessica countered.

Aaron twisted his face into a horrible mask. "Think of something else, Dear! Because I'm telling you... IF THE FUCKING SLAYER WAS DEAD I WOULD KNOW IT!"

Hell's Gatekeeper began to laugh. "Seek elsewhere!" It said gleefully as it pulled the vision closed. Then with a flap of it's wings it extinguished one of the feeble flames of the candles and easily freed itself from the calling. The ingredients of the spell began to smolder then ignited in a split second flash sending smoke and ash throughout the room. Stein and Marcum jumped away from the sulfurous eruption but neither Rupert or Wesley moved.

"He... raped... Buffy..." Wesley spit out each word as if it was poison.

"They are mine." Rupert said with dark promise.

Stein removed the handkerchief from his mouth and nose. "Don't go doing something stupid Giles or.."

"Or what?" Rupert snapped. "They are already dead, so why should you give a fig..."

Marcum pounded his fist on the table. "Reel it in! First things first! Did either of you recognize those assholes?"

Rupert's answered with a curt. "No." Wesley did not even respond as the anger within him over the vision boiled to critical mass.

"That shit stinks! Someone open a damned window!" Stein groused.

"As you wish!" Wesley replied through clenched teeth as he flung "The Ladder To Hell" through the window. "Now why don't you two officers leave me be and go do something constructive... LIKE FIND THESE BASTARDS?!"

"Watch it pal!" Stein warned.

Wesley took a step into Stein's 'space'. "You can find them, can you not?" He asked with a sarcastic edge. "Or is this another Sunnydale malady you will put at 'our' doorstep?"

Rupert stepped over the smoldering mess on the table to get between the two but was brought up short by Marcum's grip on his jacket.

"Unhand me!" Giles shouted adding his decibels to the increasingly heated argument between Wesley and Stein.

Marcum let loose but not before giving the material a twist. "While you buddy's trolling to get the shit kicked out of him you want to clue me in on something? Who would want to set you up?"

Rupert's jaw tightened. "There are three possibilities; remnants of the Mayor's cadre; unaligned associates of the undead or my former employers, The Council of Watchers."

"...and now thank God we finally have proof he did not murder that man..."

Wesley's words broke free and slid into Giles like a knife. " 'We' finally have proof?" He said too softly for Wyndam-Pryce to catch. But the next comment, accompanied by a rough shove which whirled Wesley around to face his predecessor was defiantly noted. "You doubted my innocence?! You sodding, self-righteous bastard!"

Both Detectives grabbed Rupert by an arm and pulled him a step back. "He sure has a temper." Marcum dryly observed. Stein curled his lip. "Naa... just stress."

"I did not doubt you... I just had not yet... not yet formed a final opinion!" Wesley sputtered. "But that is neither here nor there!" He ran his hand back through his hair and clenched both fists pounding them downward in the air to accentuate his position. "Buffy has been raped; there is a murderer sorcerer on the loose and it would seem that his ultimate goal is to destroy you Mr. Giles!" He stopped and pointed at Giles. "And by our association with you, he will also destroy Buffy, Willow and myself."

"I am so delighted that you have it all figured out." Rupert said to Wesley in an icy voice. He then gave his body a slight twist against the detective's holds. "And you may let me go for I have no intention of laying a hand on him."

Stein released his grip. "That's a good boy. Now you think we can sit down and figure this thing out?"

"Suit yourselves. Talk all you want, have yourselves a sodding high tea if you wish." Giles muttered while heading for the door. "I on the other hand am going to find out what the hell is going on."

As Marcum mouthed a silent string of profanity Stein dug the car keys out of his pocket. "We're not going to let you go off half cocked."

Wesley held his hand up in a motion for the Detectives to stop. As Rupert slammed the door he turned to them. "Let him go. We must talk."