Part Twenty

"They're..... 'pink'."

"No it's not!" Karen groaned. "It's Eternal Rose and it matches my bouquet, the bridesmaid's dresses and groomsmen's shirts. You need a splash of color to go with your Polar Ash tux."

"Okay, dark pink, that somehow goes with my white monkey suit." Matt grumbled, and using only his thumb and index finger held the bowtie and cummerbund back to Mary Ann.

Buffy nudged Willow with her elbow. "He looks like he's ready to heave. This is great."

"Perfect for a contemporary, semi-formal, evening wedding." The wedding planner chirped, making a checkmark on the groom's short list before her. "Now, your attendants have picked up their tuxedos and so has Karen's father, so that just leaves the father of the groom." She frowned and double-checked her notes. "Matthew, your father did not come for a fitting."

"Oh, Rupert brought his tux with him." Joyce piped in.

Mary Ann frowned in concern over this unsettling detail. "That 'might' work. What style is it?"

Joyce bit her lip. "Hummm.. I can't really say. If you want I can go get it. I know it's black and..."

"That will never do!" Mary Ann said giving her head a shake. "The father of the bride and the rest of the men are wearing Hearthstone and if he's in black he will stick out like a sore thumb."

Matt cocked his head to one side. "Huh?"

"Everybody's got to match." Willow said as seriously as possible.

"Yeah, yeah.. I got that. If every-friggin'-thing doesn't match the world will explode." Matt interrupted. "What I was wondering was, what's this Hearthstone? I thought you picked out dark grey."

Karen rolled her eyes. "Hearthstone is dark grey. Please try to pay attention."

"I gotta better idea babe, let's just forget about all this and elope." Matt said hopefully.

Karen, Joyce and Mary Ann gave him a combined look that would stop a charging rhino.

Buffy went into giggle fits over Matt's pained expression.

"All right, just a suggestion." He muttered as he scooted back from the dining room table. "Anybody want some coffee?"

"It's a little late for coffee." Mary Ann clucked, shuffling her paperwork. "But that does remind me, for the reception did you decide on Jamaican Blue Mountain or Kona Hawaii? I can also recommend a lovely Tanzanian Kilimanjaro, it's just incomparable in body and fragrance with.."

"Folgers in the red can. Brew about twenty gallons of it with no added shit!" Matt barked as his last nerve frayed.

Karen slapped her hand down on the table. "MATT!"

"Sorry." He insincerely apologized through clenched teeth. "Forget the coffee, I'm going to get a beer. Anybody want a beer?"

"Come on, it's after 11:00 and we have to get this finished." Karen sighed out.

"Then finish it, okay babe?" Matt almost snapped. "Just do it, then tell me where I'm suppose to be, when and what'ch want me to wear. Same with my Old Man and Junior and Hurricane and Coyote."

Mary Ann glanced at the list. "Who?"

"Go get your beer." Karen grumbled, giving her intended a dismissing wave of the hand. "I'll translate. You know 'guys', they have to have these macho nicknames for each other." She slid the list over and ran her finger down it. "John Junior, Andrew and Roberto have picked up their tuxes, so don't pay any attention to Matt."

"I'll make sure Rupert gets over there to get fitted." Joyce offered. "Then the men are taken care of."

"We're 'taken care of', all right. Damn straight." Matt groused, safely under the level of audibility as he made his way to the kitchen. "I should borrow one of Team Two's nets, toss it over Karen and caveman her out of here." He stopped with his hand on the refrigerator door and snickered at the idea. "Bet Hurricane could drive the getaway car. Could distract that Cake Lady by torching all the tuxes and while she's giving weird assed names to all the colors in the bonfire, Junior could bring in the catahoula and..."

His pleasant fantasy was interrupted by a barrage of slamming car doors out in the driveway. Peering out the window, he arched an eyebrow at the activity. Radiating more than the usual amount of agitation, Wesley pulled a pair of suitcases out of a beat-up sedan. Rupert stood in the drive between Mike and Xander obviously scanning the area for any sign of threat while catahoula Buffy sniffed around in the snowdrifts.

"What the hell?"

Ray pulled in, his headlights spotlighting the others. Matt took in the hard expressions, his unease growing with every passing second. Then Wesley handed off the weapons bag to Rupert and Mike turned to Xander and began to point out the lay of the land.

"Shit."

"Matt?" Karen called from the dining room. "Is that your Dad?"

"Yeah, babe."

"Ask him to come in here so we can find out when he can go over to Mary Ann's and..."

The end of her request went unheard as Matt, sans coat went out the back door and headed straight for the men. "What's going on?" He asked before he even stepped off the porch.

"We might have a problem." Wesley hedged.

"We 'do' have a problem." Rupert gruffly countered. "The magnitude of which we will not know until your Uncle gets back to you."

Matt pursed his lips at the tone. "You wanna clue me in?"

Ray spelled it out, Alliance style. "On Monday Quentin Travers arrived in Rutland and has since dropped off the radar. Last night, Renée went hunting with your Dad's group and got a trail hit over beside Allison Park. Tonight, Sam ran his dogs behind the Viking Inn and also got a positive. Wesley reached out to the Council Sergeant at Arms and was given a load of bullshit about Traver's whereabouts."

Wesley rubbed his hand back through his disheveled hair. "Mr. Williams claimed that Mr. Travers was home in bed, deathly ill and could not be disturbed by my inquiry."

"The only 'ill' is the ill wind that is blowing." Rupert said ominously.

"It is disturbing." Wesley admitted. "But let's wait until Uncle Douglas returns my call. He has several colleagues in the covert arm of the Council and this is our best hope of uncovering..."

"Still don like bringin' a unknown into dis mess." Mike hissed.

Ray crossed his arms. "Don't look at me, Luis okayed it."

Wesley grimaced at the interruptions and decided to just let his opinion drop.

Matthew's gaze darted between Wesley and his Dad, finally centering on Rupert. "Okay, Old Man, all I wanna know is who's in the crosshairs this time?"

Rupert's puffed out a breath into the winter air as he considered the answer. It only took three seconds for him to decide which of the dozen speculations was the most probable. "We all are."

Xander pulled on a pair of thick gloves. "No problem, Xander's 'vamp-be-gone' service is on it. We're here to fix all your undead problems in a timely and professional manner." He made a soft "tick-tick" sound to call Buffy over and bent down to attach the leash to her collar. "Ready to rumble, girl?"

"Let me find my hat and I'll accompany you." Wesley offered.

Mike shook his head. "A no. You stay here in case you Uncle calls back."

Wesley nodded. "That would be for the best, I doubt that Uncle Douglas would reveal any information to an unknown person."

Karen appeared on the porch. "Dad?"

Ray's attitude softened. "Go on back in before you freeze."

"What's going on?"

"It's bad." Ray honestly answered. "I'll be there in a minute. In the meantime, explain to our guests what a level three alert is and make sure they have the proper supplies for it."

As Ray spoke, Rupert watched his soon to be daughter-in-law, taking in both her cool acceptance of the abbreviated explanation and the unhesitant following of her father's orders. "She's all business, very good." He murmured, deciding at that very moment that this young woman was a perfect choice for his son.

Sliding between Rupert and Wesley, Matt crossed his arms against the cold and explained the actions. "For a level three, we secure the perimeters, no solo travel, got'ta carry weapons at all times, log all activity and change your usual habits."

"Mmmm.. yes." Rupert acknowledged. "That was explained to us and because of it, there has been changes made in the agenda for the rest of the week. Karen's bridal shower has been rescheduled for tomorrow noon at Alliance headquarters and the wedding rehearsal will be Friday morning with a luncheon afterwards, instead of late afternoon with a dinner."

"That's cool." Matt shrugged.

"And for now, your Friday night bachelor party has been canceled."

The sneer appeared. "Figures."

Xander looked crestfallen. "Oh man! And we hired two strippers from the 'Dark Side of the Moon' adult party place." He began to twirl the end of the leash. "And they were going to do that thing where the makes the tassels go around and with two of them standing side by side, it would look like a four prop..."

"Rookie!" Ray barked, as the conversation dawned on him.

"Uh, yes Sir?"

"Secure the perimeter!"

"That's.. ah, yeah.. yes sir. Securing perimeter now." Xander stammered.

"Strippers, huh?" Karn muttered as he watched Harris begin his patrol.

"Sounds like dey were good ones too." Mike chuckled as he headed for the Karn house. "Let's get inside."

******

"Boss?"

Aaron didn't respond.

"Boss?"

"What is it, Steven?"

"He's done and he wants to talk to you."

"There's a surprise." Aaron sniped. "I take it he's got this new problem solved?"

"Hell if I know, Boss. All he did was beat that new one into the ground. Kept pounding on him even after he spilled."

"Another 'surprise'." Aaron said in an arid tone. "What's your take on this whole mess?"

Steven shrugged. "I gave up on trying to figure this sucker out about two weeks ago." He shifted a bit on his feet. "You know... I know this guy's your old pal, but I think he's, he's, uh..."

Aaron finished the statement. "Insane?"

"I was going to say 'fucking nuts'." Steven grinned.

"That too." The vampire smirked back. The mirth lingered on his face for a moment then vanished without a trace. "He's descending into madness, falling into a hell of his own making." His eyes narrowed. "Poor thing, but he knew the risks of inviting a demon into a living shell."

"So how long we hanging with this?"

"Until the bitter end."

Steven eyed his employer, obviously assessing his competence even as his words said otherwise. "Sure Boss."

"His end, not ours." Aaron revealed. "This has turned our better than I ever wished for." Struck by the gallows humor in the situation the vampire threw head back and laughed. "I can now hunt in the daylight with a large ostentatious cross hanging from my neck."

As his amusement echoed across the yard Aaron suddenly struck out at Stephen, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him face to face. His voice lowered to a hiss. "But that bounty pales in comparison to the paramount prize bestowed to us by Douglas's madness. Just imagine Steven, by this time next week the Council of Watchers and the Hunter's Alliance will be at each other's throats. They will destroy each other in an orgy of accusations, hatred, betrayal and murderous vengeance."

Aaron released his follower and curled his lip. "That is, 'if' they are not completely apprised of what is happening. The strike has to be somewhat successful to ignite the war."

Even though they stood outside, the thud of Douglas's footsteps could be heard crossing the kitchen. The door was not even a quarter of the way through its arc when the man bellowed out. "Aaron!"

"No need to shout." The object of the summons dryly responded.

"I sent your boy with the message to have you come in here! So why in the hell are..."

Unconcerned over the rant, Aaron leaned on the porch rail. "Just getting some air."

"Since when do you need 'air'?!" Conrad-Chaney seethed from the doorway. "Get in here! We have work to do!"

Motioning for Steven to precede him, Aaron straightened up and stretched before entering the house. "So what did he say?"

Douglas slammed the door and stood there for a moment, fists clenching and unclenching to work off some anger. "He was not in the least bit clandestine! That stupid sod has forgotten every iota of covert knowledge! Not only did he travel under his own name, but that imbecile, that deskbound, fuckwitted, imbecile told two of his cronies about the plan." He whirled around and gave Steven a hard shove. "Go tell Sean to bring that worthless sod up here!"

In a heartbeat, Steven's game face appeared. Aaron stepped between the two and bared his own fangs. "Douglas, old friend."

"WHAT!"

"Keep your hands off my people."

Conrad-Chaney boiled over. "May I remind you that, you creatures are all 'my' underlings!"

"Steven, go amuse yourself with tormenting our new associates. I want to have a few words with Douglas." Aaron said in a cool and measured voice. Then like a serpent becoming aware of a unsuspecting rodent he slowly turned his focus toward Douglas.

With a Douglas kicked a rickety chair away from the table and sat down with a grunt. "Change your face! You know I won't talk to you when you look like that!"

"And I won't talk to you when you're being less than civilized. But if you don't adjust your attitude, I would be more than happy to break your neck." The vampire threatened.

Douglas met the vampire's gaze and considered, not the threat of violence between them, but instead the need for Aaron's and his crew. "All right, damn it! I'll be civilized about this whole thing going straight to hell in a handcart!"

Aaron's game face faded as he snipped. "Apology accepted. If that is what that was meant to be." He seated himself on the table. "So do we close down this operation, right here and now or try to salvage?"

"Snort!"

"That was eloquent."

Douglas wiped the sweat off his face. "I'm burning up. First chills, now flashes."

"Your new demon is jousting with the first one. Be a man about it and quit whinging." Aaron growled. "We have other things to do."

Giving the tip of his mustache a twist, Douglas considered his options. "First I should ring up my dimwitted nephew and find out what he knows."

"Then do it."

"I was going to let him stew until morning, but..." He glanced at his watch. "..but it's after midnight. Mmmmm... rattle his cage even more so by prying him out of bed."

With a sidelong glance Aaron nodded. "Good idea, mate."

"Right." Douglas reached into his for his cell phone and the scribbled note. "Joseph said he's ready to beat that little trainspotter to death. Perhaps we should let him come over and do it."

Aaron's shoulders jiggled in silent amusement over the thought of Conrad-Chaney's 80 year old butler taking on Wyndam-Pryce. "That would be a sight to behold."

"My money would be on Joseph." Douglas muttered as he dialed. "Hello!"

The high decibel salutation caused Matt to jerk the phone receiver away from his ear.

"Hello!? Wesley?!"

"Hang on pal, I'll get him." Matt said while motioning for Wesley.

"Well hurry it up lad! I don't have all night to waste on this nonsense!"

"Yeah.. right!" Matt curled his lip and handed off the phone. "If that's your Uncle, tell him he's an asshole."

"Shuuu!" Wyndam-Pryce cautioned. "I hope he didn't hear that." He cleared his throat and put the phone to his ear. "(ahem) Uncle Douglas?"

"Who else? And yes, I hear that! Who was that insolent wanker?"

"Uh.. mmmm.. not important."

"Well 'something' has to be important, lad! Joseph called to pass along some sort of cryptic message from you." Douglas crumpled the paper for sound effect. "Let's see... (snort) Events are spinning out of control! Ass might be in league with cuteie!? What the hell is that all about?!"

Wesley spit out a silent curse. "No, no, no. 'A', 'S' might be in league with 'Q', 'T'. Aaron Smith and Quentin Travers might be..."

"WHAT!?"

"L-l-let me explain."

"I wish you would!" Douglas roared back. He settled back with a frown and listened as Wesley related the events of the past two days. Only when Wesley signaled he was finished did Douglas speak. "As much as I hate to admit it lad, this sounds foreboding." He let out a staged sigh and worked a tremor into his voice. "Did you know that at one point, Quentin began to gather damning intelligence reports on the Alliance?"

"I know there was no love lost between them." Wesley said hesitantly. "What are you alluding to?"

"I'm not sure, lad. But let me make some inquiries."

"Sir, I don't think that is a wise.."

"Damn it Wesley! Do you want to know what that old sod is up to or not?!" Douglas lurched up onto his feet and smacked the table with his fist to punctuate the question.

"O-of course I want.."

"I have no desire to bury you! And if you don't accept my help that is what will happen! You are in over your head, closer to going home in a coffin than you realize! Do you understand this lad?!"

"Yes sir." Wesley gulped out.

Douglas inhaled sadly. "I will be discreet, you have my word. There are a few in the inner council that I can trust and even more that owe me a favor for my silence. Now, where are you?"

"I'm staying at the Karn residence here in Rutland."

"Karn.. Karn... that's an Alliance clan, correct?"

"Correct." Wesley admitted then braced himself for the explosion.

"I will be honest, I don't care for the Alliance. I find their methods are barbaric and their motivation purely mercenary, but they do help in the struggle."

"Thank you Uncle Douglas."

"I'll call back with whatever I can dredge up. Stay by the phone for the next ten hours, can you do that Wesley?"

"Absolutely. I'll be here until you get back with me."

"Watch your back, good luck."

Click.

Wesley turned to the others with a hopeful smile. "He's going to gingerly remind a few people of favors granted and owed and get back with whatever he finds out."

"Thank goodness." Joyce sighed.

Rupert sat back and put his arm around her. "As much as it pains me to say it, I have to admit we are fortunate to have Mr. Conrad-Chaney in our corner."

******

As the cornered man babbled through the phone - justifying and absolving his guilt in the name of the greater good, Conrad-Chaney idly picked at a piece of loose paint, sending tiny chips fluttering to the floor.

All others in the cellar lair were at rest, except for the new female who paced back and forth in a confused response to her imprisonment. Her demon screamed at her to go kill, to go satisfy her gnawing hunger, but these new masters forbade it.

Making a wide arc around a small ray of dawn seeping through a crack between the foundation stones, she stalked toward the old man drawn by the scent of his violent melding. Like a cat she moved toward the heap of what was once human, focusing in on the remnants of his blood stained shirt. She paused, still six feet away from the figure and then with a snarl pounced onto his body.

Quentin's eyes snapped open and in a motion too fast for one to perceive, he had her by the throat and the two vampires exploded into a howling, snarling fight for dominance.

"Oh my GOD! What! What is that!?"

" 'That' mate, is what is coming after you if you don't go along with my suggestion." Douglas answered in a threatening rumble. "Now is the time to save your own skin, Williams, both literally and figuratively."

"Rupert Giles was the only one who was to be removed from the picture. That's what we decided! That's what Quentin sent you to do! Have Giles arrested and the Slayer brought back into the fold. But this is a bloodbath! I c-cannot be party to mur..."

"Your silence makes you a co-conspirator! Makes your hands as bloody as Quentin's"

"You're mad Douglas! Stark raving mad!"

"And I have you by what's left of your balls!" Douglas retorted, pressing the phone hard against his ear. "Now go do what I told you! Write a report stating your concern over Travers' changing the scheme and date it a week ago. Do this and I guarantee that you will move up to fill the position left by the unfortunate sod. But if you dare even think about crossing me they will never find your corpse! Do you understand?!"

Silence.

"Do you UNDERSTAND!"

"Yes." Came the faint reply.

"I'll contact you tomorrow, old friend. Don't disappoint me." Douglas warned and without waiting for an answer severed the connection.

Roused from his rest by the brawl, Aaron stood nearby with arms crossed and a horrible scowl on his face. "Douglas, you are such the diplomat." He commented concerning the last few seconds of phone conversation. "Who were you strong-arming, Williams or McReynolds?"

"Williams!" Douglas snorted. "Somehow he had a shred of morals left in his body. As for McReynolds? It only took ten seconds before that trainspotter folded like a house of cards. To save his reputation, he'll gladly confirm the posthumous report Williams leaves the Council."

"McReynolds always was a fainthearted sod." Aaron surmised. "He was what, a year behind us. Did he ever get a Slayer?"

Conrad-Chaney shook his head. "Never did! He's spent his entire carrier, if you want to call it that, secluded in his chambers translating 'The Serpent's Codex' into English."

"How useful." Aaron sneered. "You should take him out of the equation also."

"His spineless nature will make him useful." Douglas muttered, patting his pockets for a pen and small notepad. "But Williams is dead where he stands, we just need to pick up a few casting supplies."

"And your sure you can hex Williams from this distance?"

"Absolutely! Then our London loose ends are neatly packaged up." Douglas certified. "All I have to do is get him on the phone to establish..."

A hellish scream pulled their attention turned toward Quentin, who had the female pinned to the floor. He tightened his grip on her wrists and again forced her fingertips into and out of the pencil thin spot of sunlight on the floor, raising a line of smoking blisters on her skin.

"Enough! DAMN IT!" Douglas barked, curling his fingers into Travers' jacket and yanking him off the vampress. With his motions underlined by a walrus grunt, he hoisted Quentin to his feet and pushed him toward the wall.

The vampress came up off the floor and bared her fangs at Douglas.

"Change your face, bitch!"

"I'm HUNGRY!" She shrieked back. "I want to eat!"

"You have five seconds...."

"Your heart is beating."

"Four..."

"Maybe I'll kill..."

"Three.."

"...you."

"Two..."

"You piece of..."

"One."

Before the final word had left his mouth Douglas struck out, backhanding the vampress into Aaron's grasp. He twirled her around and silenced her rage with a hard, biting kiss - his lips pressed to hers even as she convulsed and disintegrated into dust.

"That was 'interesting'." Aaron laughed as she vanished from his sight reveling Douglas standing there with a stake in his beefy hand.

Douglas tightened his grip on the stake and whirled around to address the others. "Any questions regarding insubordination?!"

The pack shook their heads.

"Now that that's settled!" He grumbled, his ire slowly fading. "Sean, keep them in line. Aaron, get the truck. We have to go into town for provisions and supplies."

"And pick up a replacement." Aaron added.

"Perhaps." Douglas mumbled replacing the stake into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. "We could use another female just to keep the troops happy."

"How about that Realtor?" Aaron smiled wickedly. "I saw her through the office window and wouldn't mind giving her.. 'instruction' in our ways."

"I'd rather watch her burn at the stake, but if you want her she's yours." Douglas sniffed as he dialed a number. "But first I have to finish my disinformation campaign by filling my dear nephew full of lies and half truths for him to relay on to the Alliance."

"That shouldn't be too difficult." Aaron said over his shoulder as he ascended the stairs. "I'll meet you in the truck."

******

A shaft of winter sunrise found its way through a crack in the curtains and spread across Rupert's face, rousing him halfway awake. He rolled away from the beam and snuggled toward Joyce's side of the bed, his motion nudging her into wakefulness.

Joyce opened an eye. "Ummm.... mornin', maybe."

"Debatable." He groaned. "What is today?"

"Thursday, I think."

"Last day of peace before the festivities." Giles yawned. "Rehearsal and all that tomorrow, wedding on Saturday and home on Sunday, thank God.

"What time is it?"

"Little after seven."

Joyce made a groaning noise. "I forgot to set the alarm, we should have been up an hour ago."

Rupert looked pained. "Why?"

"The girls and I have that bridal shower at noon and we have to be at the mall when it opens to get some gift wrap and a card." She stretched a bit and blinked. "Oh, and you have an appointment at a quarter 'till 9:00 with Mary Ann to get fitted for your tux."

With a faint curl of the lip and roll of the eyes Rupert sighed. "Luv, did you tell them that I brought my tuxedo?"

"Yes, But it's the wrong color."

"Oh God, what's wrong with black? Black is the classic hue for a tuxedo."

Joyce laid her head on his shoulder. "It's got to be Hearthstone."

"I've seen black hearthstones." Rupert sniffed.

With a giggle she ran a finger down his chest. "A handsome as you are, along with all your irresistible charm and style, if you would show up decked out in your black tuxedo all the women would collapse at your feet."

Rupert chuckled and deadpanned. "Is that a problem? Then I could have my pick."

He was rewarded with a smack on the arm.

"Ow! You've bruised the father of the groom." Rupert said with bogus seriousness. "Now I'll have to find a matching sling. And what color would that have to be?"

"Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

Rupert rolled and leaned on his elbow, flashing a Ripperish grin. "That would be a start."

Joyce coyly kissed a fingertip and then reached over and touched his lips, transferring the kiss. "You have to be across town in an hour and a half."

"I'll forgo breakfast." Rupert countered in that tone that made her melt inside. He captured her fingers and brought them up to his own lips, placing a nibbling kiss on each. "And I'll sacrifice a long shower."

"You're not playing fair." Joyce purred as the temperature began to rise.

"Hummm?" He murmured, drawing her closer.

"We have to leave in an hour." She faintly disagreed.

"Hour and ten minutes."

Joyce tilted her head upward and kissed him, then slid away. "I'm taking my shower." She wagged a finger in mock warning. "Alone."

"Very well." Rupert sadly conceded as she crawled out of bed. "But tonight we'll go to bed early."

"How early?"

The Ripper smile intensified. "Mmmmm.... as soon as you get back from the bridal shower?"

Joyce paused at the bathroom door and gave him a smile. "Behave."

"Oh well..." Rupert chuckled softly and sat up with stretch. "...I might as well get the day started." He stood, pulled yesterday's shirt and trousers on and went over to the window, taking in the glittering landscape. Tracks in the snow, both human and canine, showed that patrolling had went on all night.

Rupert shifted on his feet a bit. The Alliance had agreed to open up their reference library for his use, but had drawn the line at allowing any 'Council types' to patrol. Oh the logic was there - Buffy didn't know the area, they were guests, the Alliance is a well tuned group effort, on and on, ad infinitum. But still he wanted to be in the thick of things, not just stand at the sidelines and look up what he already knew. And he felt, somehow felt it deep down inside, that this mess was worse than anyone believed.

Their breath frosting in the morning air, Xander and Matt came into view plodding around the garage following a still exuberant catahoula Buffy. The pair veered off and came toward the guest house. With a roll of his shoulders Rupert padded over to the bathroom door and stuck his head in. "We're getting company."

Joyce peeked out of the shower stall. "Who?"

"Matthew and Xander." Giles clarified. "Just thought I'd warn you because..."

"Hey Old Man! You up?"

Rupert rolled his eyes. ".. because neither is aware of the concept of knocking."

"Thanks." Joyce snickered. "Just be sure to shut the bedroom door."

"You got any coffee over here?"

Rupert turned and made a brushing motion at his son who stood against the bedroom door peeling his gloves off. "There's some in the kitchenette but it hasn't been started yet, help yourself."

"Cool." Matt said as he turned. "Nutten happened last night. Notta, zippo."

Xander plopped down on the couch and gaped out a yawn. "Except two cats met, fell in love and decided to start a family."

Matt tossed his gloves down and snorted. "Don't tell Karen or we'll have to drag another cat back to Columbus. She's already makin' noise that we should get a kitten because Sherman's gonna be 'lonely' with both of us in school."

"Would that be so terrible?" Rupert smirked.

"I'm gonna get a catahoula pup, or maybe two." Matt announced. "Bring the pooch and the kid up to be hunters." He turned and gave his head a sharp nod. "And after Sherman's gone to that big litter box in the sky, no more freakin' cats unless they're out in the barn earning their keep."

Rupert found himself laughing at his son's proclamation. "We'll see, but I'm willing to wager $20 that you will be the owner of a second cat before you have the first dog."

"It's a bet Old Man."

"Let me in on that easy money." Xander grinned, patting his wallet. "Anybody that can be suckered into wearing a pink bowtie won't be able to stop his lady from collecting cats."

Matt curled his lip. "I'll take your money too, rookie."

A paper sack beside the couch caught the catahoula's attention. She sniffed at it for a second before sticking her head all the way in, sending it tipping over.

"Xander, please get her out of that. It's Joyce's." Rupert said with a point.

"Sure." Harris leaned over and pulled Buffy out of the bag. "Don't mess stuff up girl." He picked the sack up and put it on the couch. Taking a peek inside he began to snicker. "Uh, G-man... you say this is Joyce's stuff?"

"Yes, so please stay out of..." His voice faded out as Xander pulled a mittfull of bridal magazines out of the sack.

"She's got them bookmarked G-man." Xander warned as gravely as possible.

"She must be sure she's got him lassoed." Matt added in the same ominous tone. "Old Man, you better make a run for it."

Xander opened one and held it up. "Fashions for a second wedding."

Matt glanced at the photo. "Jeeze Louise, and I thought my monkey suit looked like the circus was in town. She's going to put you in a top hat."

"Uh.. mmmm.. I'm.. ah.. sure there is an explanation." Rupert stammered as Matt began to whistle the Ringling Brother's theme. "We're very, ah.. close.. b-but we've never talked about m-marriage."

Matt and Xander exchanged glances and busted out in full belly laughs.

Rupert crossed his arms and shot them both a sour look. "That's enough! And you will not say a word to Joyce about this. Understand?"

"Our lips are sealed, Giles." Xander promised, plastering an earnest expression on his face. "Never fear."

"Mr. Giles!" Wesley called out as he pounded on the door. "Open up please!"

"By the way, this is an example of knocking before entering." Giles told the two young men as he opened the door for his fellow Watcher.

"Don't get it." Matt deadpanned.

"Thank goodness you're up and moving." Wesley said breathlessly as he came through the door. "Uncle Douglas just called and he said that it's confirmed, Quentin Travers is in Rutland engaged in some sort of covert operation!"

"Duh." Matt snotted. "We knew that."

"How did he find this out?" Rupert questioned.

"He had to resort to a vicious blackmail, sorry to say. But he did find out some pertinent information." Wesley began to pace. "Firstly, it seems that the late Mr. Rayne was in the employ of Mr. Travers."

"Oh God!" Rupert blurted out.

Wesley nodded grimly. "Two weeks ago Mr. Williams confronted Mr. Travers over the transfer of almost sixty thousand out of the general operations account to that of an unknown person in the Canary Islands."

"Was Ethan this unknown?" Rupert asked in a barely controlled voice.

Wesley ran his hand back through his hair. "It was never confirmed or denied as to who's account this was. But Mr. Travers was forced to turn his notes over to Mr. Williams who accepted the use of single letters to distinguish the clandestine agents. One identified as 'E', and one was 'A'."

Rupert worked his jaw. "Ethan and Aaron." His inflection making it a statement, not a question.

"Ethan for sure. Mr. Travers made a slip of the tongue while arguing his case and said the name."

"That's the dead guy, right? Screw him!" Matt coldly interrupted. "What's the deal with this Travers? What's going on with him."

Wesley drew in a long breath and hissed it out. "The 'deal' is, is that... the twin focuses of this operation was to be bringing Buffy back into line under Council jurisdiction and the removal of Mr. Giles from Sunnydale."

"So I was the target." Rupert whispered.

In a heartbeat Matt was on his feet. "That cocksucker was after my Old Man?! I'm gonna find him and kick the dogshit outta..."

"Stop it!" Rupert barked. "This is not your fight!"

"Bull-fuckin'-shit! You mess with Giles blood you get us all!" Matt raged. "We back each other up!"

Xander jabbed a fist into the air. "You got that right! I'm in too!"

"Calm down!" Wesley shouted above the commotion. "Let me continue! Please!"

Rupert let out a growling. "What else?!"

"The plan 'was', emphasis on 'was'..." Wesley shut his eyes and puffed out a breath as he chose the words. "...that, 'E' was to be set up by 'A' in such a way that you would be arrested, convicted and imprisoned for his murder. But this did not come to pass... and neither did... d-did the other... part of... of the operation." His voice faded out and with a shiver Wyndam-Pryce went silent.

"What?" Rupert whispered, taking in Wesley's sudden ashen complexion.

"Your imprisonment would merely disgrace you in the eyes of the Sunnydale community. But... but there was still the problem of Buffy looking up to you." Wesley suddenly stiffened and forced a grim laugh. "She would think that Ethan got what he deserved for stalking Willow. That he should have know better than to work for the Council. And.. and... that problem was going to be rectified by unleashing a melded vampire on Sunnydale. This creature was going to state that you created him as a revenge against the Council."

Rupert screwed up his brow into a frown. "That is preposterous!"

Wesley's voice went to a monotone. "I was to be its first kill."

"Oh Dear God." Rupert gulped, reaching out to steady his compatriot.

"It was to be quite gruesome, my blood used to paint upon the wall a warning message to the Council."

At this point Matt started to shake with anger. "So is this son of a bitch still planning some shit?"

Wesley swallowed hard and shook his head. "Possibly."

"He either is or he isn't, man!" Matt shouted.

"All Uncle Douglas could find out was that during the past two weeks many believe that Mr. Travers has become mentally unhinged." Wesley croaked out. "Now, my Uncle offered up a theory that is what you could call a tad poetic. That is, Mr. Travers is here to take matters in his own hands and Aaron Smith is here to stop him."

"Your Uncle better stop smokin' that shit!" Matt sniped. "Maybe this Travers is here to whack my Old Man... I'll buy that. But the dead dick here to save him? No frikkin' way!"

"Not to save me." Rupert interrupted. "But instead to keep his existence a secret."

Xander whistled and made a "time out" sign. "But we know he's still walking around."

Rupert began to pace. "He's unaware of that."

"And he's intelligent enough to realize that he can't rely on a madman to keep such information to himself." Wesley added.

Matt curled his lip. "So we just put the Old Man under Alliance protection and let these two pop each other."

"I don't want a bodyguard." Rupert disagreed.

"But I want you to have one." Joyce said softly from the doorway.

Rupert grimaced. "Mmmmm.. Joyce. Ah... how long have you been standing..."

"Long enough." She answered coming to his side. "Please, please Rupert. Let them keep you safe."

"I really don't.." He began only to be silenced by her fingertip on his lips.

"Please?"

With a long sigh Rupert surrendered with a nod.

Matt grinned and headed for the door. "Rookie, you've got the first watch on him. I'm gonna go tell Mike what's comin' down."

******

"This is a beautiful display. You have done a wonderful job." Ethan said as the clerk arranged wooden Santa and elf figurines in the window. "I used to love Christmas as a child. Some of my favorite memories are from this time of year." He reached out and tried to shake a snowglobe containing a Christmas tree forest, but his hand passed straight through. "Mum used to collect these silly little things. She would have loved this one, so bright and colorful."

The specter smiled sadly. "It's been years since I really celebrated, since I even found it in myself to raise a glass to the spirit of the season." He sighed and turned away from the collection. "Too late now, unless some group is performing the standard Dickens and would want me as the foreboding ghost of Christmas future."

Ethan's mouth became a thin, grim line as he considered what would be a year from now. Five paces away Joyce, Buffy and Willow stood in the queue waiting on their turn at the checkout. Joyce with shower card and wrapping paper, Buffy and Willow giggling over the goofy looking beanbag style animals that were piled in a willy-nilly pyramid across the aisle. "They're all dead.. all dead. And I can't do a damned thing about it."

For the first time since he was a child a tear of compassion flowed. "There.. there has to be a way for me to warn them." He choked out.

"This one looks just like Xander!" Willow squeaked, picking up an earnest looking purple hound wearing a backward baseball cap.

Buffy pointed at a serious gray owl. "There's Giles!, Complete with glasses and a book!"

"And Wes is the parrot!"

Joyce shook her head as the girl's laughter broke through her worries. "If they heard you two, they would be mortified." She took a step toward the cashier and shifted her items in her arms. "Why don't you two go next door to the shoe store and see if they have anything you like?"

"I know mom." Buffy sighed. "I know. I can't believe we forgot our shoes."

"Neither can I." Joyce said with a shrug. "But forgetting something is a family tradition."

"Right." Buffy nodded. "Like the time we went camping and forgot the sleeping bags." She snickered and corrected herself. "But we really didn't forget them, we just grabbed the wrong bag out of the basement and took all our winter coats instead. Too bad it was July not January."

The conversation lightened her mood enough for Joyce to add with a giggle. "Or the time we went to the baseball game and your dad left the tickets at home."

Buffy turned to Willow. "Dad had to buy tickets from a scalper, he was soooo mad."

"If you ladies don't mind, I'll just wait in the car." Ethan said, suddenly feeling the need to get away from memories, both his own and theirs.

The shade made his way through the mall, doing his best to ignore the decorations, the music and the growing crowd of shoppers. Head down he slinked along the wall immersing himself in his melancholy. He was almost to the exit, passing by the final few shops when a man's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Are they pure beeswax?"

Ethan froze before the entryway of a small county theme giftshop.

"And you're positive you don't have any black ones?"

"If there's none left in the Halloween markdowns I'm sure we don't have any." A woman's voice answered.

"That's Douglas Conrad-Chaney." The shade hissed out, turning toward the doorway.

"These dark blue ones might work." Aaron said, holding up a pair of candles.

Douglas curled his lip. "Well, perhaps. But they should be black."

The clerk raised an eyebrow. "Why do you need black candles?"

"It's not really any of your business." Douglas snapped. "Just ring those up along with what my friend is holding and we'll be on our way."

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Yes, you lard-arsed murderer. 'We' do have to be on our way."