Part Seven

He slammed the door so hard that the keyholder fell off the wall. He threw the mail and morning paper onto the coffee table, went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink which promptly disappeared down his throat, followed in short order by the second.

He reached for the bottle a third time but thought better of it. Instead he took a couple of fast steps toward the kitchen and slung the glass into the sink where it exploded into a million pieces.

"Welcome home Ripper. Bad day at the office?" His unseen guest chirped.

Giles whirled back around and snatched up the phone book. Flipping into the yellow page section he found the number for Steve Arbogast, Attorney at Law and dialed.

"So where have you been? I've been waiting all night for you to decide to come home." Ethan stepped around and waved a spectral hand in front of Rupert's face and sighed at the disappointing lack of result. "Perhaps I should get some chains to drag around, would that help?"

"Hello. My name is Rupert Giles and I would like to schedule an appointment with Mr. Arbogast." Rupert's face went dark at the secretary's question. "No! A week from Thursday is not acceptable! I've just spent five hours being interrogated by the filth and I need legal advice - NOW!"

"What did you do now Guv'?" Ethan cackled. "Ripper's in trouble! Ripper's in trouble! Rip.."

"It is in regard to the homicide on Rangeline Road last Tuesday."

"..per's in trouble." The shade's mocking voice faded out. "Rangeline?" A memory blossomed in his head of a car turning into a long driveway, beside which a mailbox proclaimed 12,037 Rangeline.

"I believe I am a suspect in this crime." Rupert began to pace as the secretary went through the appointments. "Tomorrow at 3:00. Thank you, I will be there. Goodbye."

Rupert hung up the phone and plopped down on the couch muttering under his breath. Ethan crossed his arms and assumed the position of leaning up against the wall. "So, they think you did me in? Well, in a way you did. Admit it Ripper, 'you' are the one who balled everything up in the first place."

"Damn you Ethan!" Giles slammed his fist down on the arm of the couch. "Thank you! Thank you so much - you miserable, sodding, piece of shit!" He reached out and roughly swept everything off the coffee table sending papers flying to the floor.

"Sorry for the inconvenience!" Ethan snapped as Rupert raged. "Next time I'll arrange my DEATH to meet YOUR specifications." He glided across the room and took a backhand at the man who now sat with his head in his hands. "And thank you for your compassion! I should just leave you to your misery and go haunt a brothel for the interim." Rayne sat down beside his compatriot and wrapped a ghostly arm around Rupert's shoulder, leaning in close to hiss directly into his ear. "But I won't, instead I'm going to be nice. So listen to me you stupid ass, your old, lard-butted chum, Conrad-Chaney is behind this. He's with some others and a mercenary named McKinley who, by the way, I'm sure is now also dead." Rayne arose and began to pace. "Somewhere with a barn and a vineyard, I saw that much before I was freed from the melding spell; before my burning corpse pulled me back to Sunnydale."

"Damn, it's cold in here." Giles mumbled to himself.

Ethan's features went to a snarl. "My sympathies! Try being fucking, stone, cold dead! Forget it! Forget that I even tried to help!" He barked while flashing an obscene gesture.

Giles began to collect his keys and the day's mail from the floor. The phantom tossed his hand upward in frustration as Rupert stood and made his way to the door. "Now where do you think you are off to?"

Keeping up his unheard commentary, the shade followed Rupert out to the car and passed into the back seat. "Should I fasten my seatbelt?" It cackled sarcastically. "Safety first you know."

Rupert really did not know what to do. As he drove back to Joyce's he began to try to sort through his 'visit' to the police station. Detective Stein had arrived an hour into it, then had came and went several times during the course of the questioning without saying more than a dozen words. But Detective Marcum, that miserable wanker - he had been in his face the entire time asking questions about his past relationship with Ethan; hammering home the fact that he and the deceased were not on the best of terms; confirming the scenario that he would do anything to protect Willow. Rupert shivered at the implications. He had lost his temper three times during the course of the interrogation, with the final one getting him roughly pushed back into his chair as he had leaned across the table and shook a fist in the detective's face.

Giles winced at the memory of Marcum perched across from him, his face a mask the entire time as he needled and provoked.

"So you were in Coloma since Sunday? Just went up there at the last minute, correct?"

"That is correct. We have went over this a thousand times. You have confirmation of that from the..."

"Yeah, right. According to Miss Rosenberg you never go anywhere without planning at least five weeks in advance. So why the spontaneous 'get the hell out of Dodge' this time?"

"Leave Willow out of this."

"Answer my question."

"Just leave her out of this."

"You seem to hang around the young ones a lot. Your little pack, Miss Rosenberg, that Summers reprobate.."

At that point he had began to shake with anger.

".... and they would do 'anything' for their Sugar Daddy now wouldn't they?"

Giles pulled over to the curb as a sickening knot formed in his stomach in tandem with a possible reason for the Detective's words. Did that bastard think that he had arranged the murder? Rupert paled. They did... that had to be it. They thought that he had planned this out then quickly left town as an alibi, leaving someone else to carry out his orders. "Buffy, Joyce, Willow, Wesley." He whispered as a foreboding fact hit him. "Their names came up as often as Ethan's."

"So I'm in good company, eah?" Rayne said from the back. "What brought that up?"

Rupert laid his head on the steering wheel for a moment and let out a shaking exhale as he regrouped. Ethan came forward to occupy the passenger seat. A tiny flash of concern passed through him as he noted Rupert's haggard expression. "Ripper? Come on Ripper, snap out of it. We both know you absobloodylutly did not kill me. If you would just get your head out of your arse for a moment and pay attention it would all be settled. Then I would tell you what happened and in return you can figure out how to keep me from ever having to return to hell."

With another pained sigh Giles pulled away from the curb and drove the remaining three miles to the Summers' home. Rayne blinked in surprise as his old friend used his own key to go straight in the back door without the first knock. Rupert stopped and picked a note up from the counter.

"So this is where you have been hanging out?" Ethan commented, sliding close to read over Giles' shoulder.

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

Dear Rupert, Call me and let me know what happened. As soon as you left this morning Det. Stein showed up and talked to us. I really think you should call the lawyer because he said that we are the only ones who knew that man. I'm at the Gallery until 5, Buffy and Willow will be home at 4:30. Love, Joyce.

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

"Looove Joyceee." Ethan snotted. "I knew something was going on between you two. Should have known, should have known. Hell!... the way you two were all over each other last time I saw you."

"Bastard." Rupert growled.

"Now Ripper, it's not nice to speak ill of the dead." Ethan ran a finger across the note. "Oh! You're probably referring the cop, correct? What's the matter? Don't like the authorities talking to your lady friend?" He laughed and followed Giles into the living room making kissing noises on the back of his hand.

Rupert sat down and dialed the Gallery.

"Summers' Gallery. This is Joyce, may I help you?"

"Yes, it's me."

Joyce caught the hang-dog tone of voice. "What happened?"

"In answer to your question, I've called Mr. Arbogast. I meet with him tomorrow afternoon at 3:00."

"Oh no..." She sighed. "Did you read my note?"

"Yes... what did he want?"

Joyce hemmed and hawed for a few seconds. "He brought up that night when we... we were downtown."

"How did he know?"

"He doesn't for sure, I don't think. He mentioned that an officer had been assaulted by an English guy and his girlfriend." She audibly gulped. "And he brought up all the things that Buffy has done and commented on Willow's involvement with Amy's disappearance."

"Amy has not disappeared! She's simply... still a rat."

"Who is currently upstairs in Buffy's room." Joyce stated dryly. "We did not tell him that."

"Good idea." Rupert bit his lip and gave his head a hard shake. "I know what they are doing Joyce. They are trying to pressure you and the girls into betraying me. The want you to cut a deal, so to speak - me for them."

"But you didn't do anything!"

"I KNOW!"

"DON'T SNAP AT ME!!"

Rupert was silent.

"Are you still there?" Joyce asked hesitantly.

"Yes... I'm sorry."

"That's allright."

"No it's not. Listen, it was a mistake trusting Stein. He played me like a violin. We must not speak to them again without a lawyer present."

"I agree." She paused for a moment. "There's something else you should know. Willow mentioned something this morning while I was driving them over to the campus. Ah.. she wondered if we could call up this Ethan's ghost like that Alliance woman did with her..."

Rupert jumped to his feet at the suggestion. "GOD NO!"

"Quit shouting at me! I didn't like the idea either!" She shot back.

"That is too dangerous. We have no idea what mental condition he would be in coming back from hell! He could appear in an uncontrollable rage! Teresa was a powerful sorceress vested with a hereditary gift and..."

Joyce cut him off. "I know!"

"Damn..." Rupert exhaled the curse and choked back a frustrated groan. "...Listen, we can do nothing until after I meet with Mr. Arbogast. I will... I will start supper and we can all talk it out this evening. Make some sort of plan."

"I don't want to worry the girls."

"Neither do I. All I will do in their presence is tell them that calling up Ethan is absolutely 'not' going to happen and that I have a meeting with the lawyer. Then when Buffy goes on patrol and Willow leaves for her evening with Oz, we will decide on what to do."

"That sounds good. Look, I just got a customer.."

"I understand." Rupert smiled a gallows grin. "One of us has to be gainfully employed."

"Oh! Remind me about that."

"About what?"

"Employed... think about working here at the gallery." She held the phone away and answered the customer's question then came back to Giles. "I have to go, bye-bye."

"Good-bye."

Rubbing his forehead, Giles walked over to the window and stared out, oblivious to the beautiful autumn day before him. The decision was easy, if push came to shove he would take the fall to protect them; he would throw the rest of his life away to keep them safe. The nagging thought that this was the Council's doing resurrected and began to form scenarios in his mind. Quentin was not above this sort of twisted revenge, but he was not the only one in the anti-Giles club. In matter of fact he could not bring to mind one ally except Wesley.

He then darkly wondered how things were going up in San Francisco for the thought of Wyndam-Pryce trying to be covert did not give him any great comfort. "Conrad-Chaney." He muttered. "Splendid."

The mumbled name caught Ethan's attention. "What about him?" The ghost stood beside Rupert and cocked his head to one side. "This just gets curiousier and curiousier."

******

"Well that was weird." Buffy commented as she opened their dorm window.

"Hurry Buffy!" Willow coughed while dragging a chair across the room armed with a wet towel. "We don't want the smoke detector going off!" She climbed up on the chair and wrapped the towel around the device.

"Why not? Big hunky firemen and lots of excitement!"

"No excitement... I've got all my excitement for the day." Willow wrinkled up her nose. "Ick! I didn't think lizards smelled this bad."

"Just because it came out of a cute little bottle it was still dried, scaly thing." Buffy laughed as she dug their small fan out of the closet. She plugged it in and directed the flow outside. "So what do you think happened?"

"Ah... It didn't work?" Willow shrugged and pursed her lips.

Buffy swept the still smoking remains of the spell into a metal trashcan. "Are you sure?" she said with a false innocence. "Maybe this is how it's suppose to turn out."

Willow began to speculate. "Maybe it was the picture we used. Maybe the keeper demon doesn't like newsprint? I mean we had everything right except for, you know, that one little detail."

Buffy poked at the charred remains of the newspaper photo of Ethan Rayne which had accompanied the story of his murder. "We were suppose to have something of his."

"I though that would be close enough."

"Yeah, me too." Buffy said as she looked up at her friend. "You want me to hold that?"

"No... I'm okay." Willow pressed the towel against the smoke detector a little tighter and sighed. "I wonder what that keeper thing meant by 'seek elsewhere'?" Her eyes widened. "Maybe Ethan really isn't dead! Maybe that guy was... was his clone or something!"

"It was him." Buffy countered while pouring the rest of her soda into the can to douse any embers. "I bet that the picture just didn't work." She snapped her fingers. "Hey! We could break into the morgue and get some of his hair!"

"Yuck!"

"Okay Will, how about 'I' do it? No worse than when we went to there to take pictures of that ripped up guy." Buffy nodded as the plan began to jell. "I'll patrol over there on Greene Street and just happen to stop in...."

"I don't know about this. Buffy this is already sorta bad just with... 'Ethan picture' and if we use.. 'real Ethan' it might not really work out the way we think it would work if it's really going to work..." Her voice wavered. "This is big time and if something goes wrong Giles will... would... oh... I don't want to think about it."

"How's he gonna know?"

Willow slowly removed the towel from the smoke detector. "He always does. Hey! Maybe we could ask Wesley to help?"

"Ri-i-i-ight." Buffy said dryly. "That will be the day. Will, I think you've inhaled too much lizard smoke."

"But he is helping." She hopped down from the chair. "And, and if we do this again, I think we could use some help."

"No way!" Buffy put the trash can down and took a glance at the clock. "It's only twenty after two, we can still make the last half of the classes we cut."

"Right... since we're not talking to Ethan or burning the place down, we might as well go to class." Willow's voice had a surprising touch of sarcasm.

Buffy turned to her friend. "What's wrong?"

"Buffy, I really, really don't want to try this again. I just... just..." Willow quit speaking and began to busy herself with collecting her purse and things.

"Just 'what' Will?"

"Ah... mmmm... I just think this kind of magic is beyond me. I just want to be 'Willow Rosenberg - plain, old, regular freshman'. I want to come back to the dorm." She drew herself up in front of Buffy. "And even if you go get that hair I'm not going to do anything with it, so don't because I won't because I can't."

"We have to find out what happened!" Buffy said with a wave of the arm. "Giles is in trouble and.."

"And the police can figure it out this time!' Willow crossed her arms and looked pained. "Please Buffy... you weren't the one casting the spell. You didn't see those, those 'things' over the Keeper's shoulder, you didn't feel that cold...."

"Then I'll cast it!" Buffy barked as she went out the door. "Thought I could count on you Willow."

Willow followed her out and yelled down the hallway as Buffy disappeared down the stairs. "That was mean! You know I would help if I could!" She leaned up against the door and fought back angry tears. "Okay Buffy... be that way. But I am not going to do that again and I'm moving back here tomorrow and... and..." Willow went back into her room and sat down on the edge of her bed to collect her thoughts.

"Seek elsewhere?" She whispered as she picked up the spell and crammed it into her Wicca notebook. "Okay Rosenberg, think. If he wasn't on the other side that means he's maybe still on this side. And if he's still on this side that means he's either not dead or he's haunting somewhere or he's stuck between the spheres."

She pulled her spellbook out from under the mattress and began to leaf through it. Several headings caught her eye, but nothing seemed to fit. Willow knew Giles had more in depth information... heck he probably knew the answer off the top of his head. She smiled as this thought crossed her mind. It seems like he knew everything. "So why not ask him? Remember what Xander used to say, 'Better to ask for forgiveness than permission'."

Willow bit her lip and nodded to herself. She would go to Giles, 'fess up and face the music. This decided she quickly collected her things and headed back to the Summers' house.

Giles flipped back and forth between the two recipe books, Chinese or Mexican? Each dish would involve a trip to the grocery to fill in the missing ingredients, a scenario he was not looking forward too. "Perhaps I'll just throw you in the oven and hope for the best." He said to the thawing chicken at his elbow.

"Why not? That's what you did for me." Ethan snotted. "You know Ripper, you are boring as hell. What do you say we go out and have a little fun?" He seated himself beside the sink. "Maybe I should rephrase that. Hell was not boring. In matter of fact those demons and devils were positively amazing in their creativity."

A flash of red hair moving past the window caught Rupert's attention. He got up and opened the kitchen door for Willow.

With a quick "Hi Giles" she blew past him.

Right away Giles caught the distinctive odor of burnt lizard wafting from here hair and clothes.

"Willow, you are over an hour early." He frowned, pinched the bridge of his nose and decided that his mood had just taken another step downward.

"Yeah.... I, ah... I forgot to feed Amy and... uh... so how did it go today?"

"Terrible, and it just got worse." He said as he pointed to his recently vacated stool. "But I'm much more interested in how your spellcasting went, so sit down and tell me."

Slowly Willow looked back over her shoulder with a classic 'who me?' expression. "Humm?"

"I'm not in the mood Willow. Powered 'gerrhosaurus nigrolineatus' reeks."

Willow sat. "I was going to tell you..."

With a wave of his glasses, Rupert launched into his sermon. "Do you realize the danger you put yourself in? Willow! I thought you would have more common sense than to try to free a spirit. One false move and you could have been possessed, or drawn into the pit... or... or.."

Taking advantage of the sputtering pause, Willow interjected. "He wasn't there, so it didn't work, so we were okay and I'm not going to do it again."

"What do you mean by 'he was not there'?"

"It's because I'm here!" Ethan piped up. "You were trying to raise me? Thank you! At least someone cares!"

"That's what the keeper told us and..."

"Us?" Giles interrupted.

"Uh... yeah, us." Willow bit her lip. "Buffy helped and, and she wants to try it again but I don't."

"And Buffy helped." Ethan slapped a hand over his heart. "I am touched."

Rupert continued the questioning. "And exactly where did you get this spell? I know which books you have at your disposal and the 'Calling of a Shade' is not included in your tomes."

Willow shifted a bit on her seat. "Internet." She whispered.

"Splendid!" Giles tossed his hands upward. "This just keeps getting better and better!" "I'm sorry and I'm not going to try it again." Willow hung her head for a moment. "We were just trying to help you."

Ethan curled his lip. "Oh yes, help 'him'. I should have known." He slid off the counter and parked himself beside Rosenberg.

Rupert leaned on the island across from her. "Promise me you will 'never' try this again."

"Oh I promise! Never, never.. no sir-ree... I'll never try to contact anyone again." Willow's hair bounced as she nodded her affirmation of the statement.

Giles straightened up. "I will hold you to that Willow. Now, what 'exactly' did the keeper say?"

"That we should 'seek elsewhere'. We kinda thought that it meant that the picture we used didn't really work." Willow pulled the notebook out of her backpack and retrieved the paper. "Here's the spell we used. It said we needed something of his, but we used the newspaper picture instead 'cause we didn't have anything really his."

"It's his image. It should have worked.... hummm..." Rupert ran his finger down the lines.

"Man! It's chilly in here." Willow commented.

"Ummm-hummm..." Rupert absentmindedly answered while focusing on the spell. "This is a very generic casting - thank God. It would have only brought him to the portal for questioning." He straightened up, removed his glasses and chewed on the earpiece for a moment. "Willow, I believe that this did not work due to the weakness of the spell. The keeper was summoned, but did not 'have' to cooperate..."

"No... no... NO! Ripper you idiot!" Rayne spit.

"...so it decided to lie and send you on your way."

Punctuating each word with a beat of his fist upon the counter, Ethan shouted. "Ripper, you are worthless! I'm going upstairs to talk to the only being in this place with any sense... the RAT!"

Willow pursed her lips and thought this over. "So... no matter what we used it would not work? It wasn't the ingredients that were bad, it was the spell? So even if we would have had something really personal of his, it would still just poof burnt lizard dust all over our room?"

"That's correct." Rupert arched an eyebrow at the question. "Is there something else I should know about?"

"Uh... no... well... maybe." Willow hedged while looking everywhere except at Giles. "Buffy had an idea to go and get somethingofhisfromthemorgue."

"WHAT?!"

Willow flinched. "His hair.. maybe."

"Ethan's remains were cremated over the weekend." Rupert said in a barely controlled voice. "And, to my knowledge he was, or soon will be shipped to his brother's home in Felixstowe." He began to rub his hand together and speak without moving his teeth. "Is there anything else I should know about your afternoon?"

"No." Willow whispered.

"I will speak to Buffy when she returns. Now excuse me while I try to decide what to prepare for supper."

"Giles..." Willow began only to be cut off by a grumbling dismissal.

"Go feed Amy or study or prepare for your evening out."

"Giles.."

"The subject is now closed."

******

"Anything of interest?"

"No Wesley. Goodbye Wesley." Buffy snotted as she walked on by.

Wyndam-Pryce gave a small shake of his head and followed the Slayer into the park. "I just wondered how things are with you?"

"As soon as I find a vamp or three to kick the crap out of, I'll be way better."

"I see." Wesley said as he fell in step with her. "Is there a problem?"

"No."

"I just left your Mother's where I gave my report to Mr. Giles."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "That's nice, I just left there too... again."

"Yes, Mr. Giles said that you left to patrol for a second time. By the way, my Uncle Douglas was very accommodating. He said that he knows nothing but will check around."

"Great." Buffy stopped an scanned the area. "Nothing! Where's a vamp when you need one?"

"We had a very nice talk, I did not leave until a little after four." Wesley took his glasses off, held them up to the streetlight and cleaned off a tiny speck while waiting for Buffy to say something. Instead she whirled around and headed back toward the entrance still muttering about the inconsiderate vampires.

"Buffy!"

The Slayer did not even slow down until she reached the street. Wesley swore under his breath and broke into a trot to catch up with her. "Buffy! Wait!"

"What do you want 'ex-Watcher'?"

Wesley ignored the slam. "Would you like to patrol the warehouse or dock areas? I would be happy to drive you over to either. For even though it is almost midnight, you seem to be eager for a confrontation with the undead."

"It shows huh?" Buffy stopped and gave another look around.

"Very much." Wesley said, pulling his van keys out. "Shall we?"

"Who are you and what have you done with Wesley?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Buffy pointed at him. "By now the real Wesley would have been halfway through his 'you have to come back' speech."

Wesley looked a little pained for a moment then regrouped. "Well Buffy, I'm getting a tad tired of beating my head against the wall."

"Uh-huh.... sure you haven't been bit by a Hellmouthie thing?" Buffy crossed her arms and waited for a response.

"Positive." He jingled his keys and pointed toward the van. "Docks or warehouses?"

Buffy arched an eyebrow. "Docks I guess."

Wesley unlocked the door and held it open for Buffy. She hopped in, belted up and settled back into her seat waiting on him to get in. As soon as he entered Buffy gave him a coy smile. "How about we try Rangeline Road?"

"Where's that?" Wesley asked as he started the engine.

"East of here. I want to see where Ethan was killed." She blew a puff of air upward. "I don't think that it went very good for Giles today so I want to see the place. Maybe the cops missed something."

As the van eased away from the curb Wesley cleared his throat. "I got the impression that Mr. Giles was a bit preoccupied this evening..."

"Oh yeah he's preoccupied all right." Buffy's voice had a sarcastic edge to it. "But he wouldn't tell me what happened. When I came home today he launched into a fit because... ah, just because he was in a mood over having to call the lawyer."

"Oh... does this mean that the authorities.."

"Yep! Guess so." Buffy interrupted. ""Like they are going to tell me."

"They? Mr. Giles and who else?"

"My Mother." Buffy sniped. "She's the one he's talking to. Guess she wants to make sure that Giles isn't locked up 'cause then she couldn't go off with him."

Wesley sat there staring at the green light. "Go off?"

Buffy went into a full court rant. "Yeah... go off. She's going to Vermont with him, so now 'I' gotta go there too just to make sure they don't eew... again. Willow says that she thinks they are 'cute' together. Cute? My Mom and Giles... cute? And what if Mom really does have candy bars laying around? Like I want to catch them outside on the hood of the car...."

A horn blasted behind them, goosing Wesley back to the business of driving. "Ah.. Buffy are you saying that Mr. Giles and you mother have a... a ... relationship?"

"I don't know nuttin! Is Giles going to get arrested? Does he and Mom have something horizontal going on? Who knows, who cares?!"

Wesley flinched at the anger in Buffy's words which echoed Joyce's from the week before. "I think you do."

Buffy was silent.

Wesley let her stew while driving East on the main drag until they reached the outskirts of Sunnydale. "Ah Buffy? Which way?"

"Rangeline crosses this road about three miles out."

"Do you know the address?"

She sighed. "Twelve-thousand-something. It's way out there."

"You don't want to be alone, do you?"

"What do you mean by that?" Buffy's voice acquired an icy edge. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do..."

Buffy turned in her seat and interrupted with a barked "Bullshit!"

"My parents divorced when I was sixteen."

"Not the same." Buffy grumbled. "You're not a Slayer."

"No, but I had 'Watcher' hanging over my head and there goes my father, off with a tart from the pub." Wesley gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "I was mortified. I don't know if you have ever noticed, but I have a punctilious streak to my personality."

"If that big word means 'stiff as a board', yeah I've thought that." She eyed him for a moment. "What did you do?"

"Nothing I could do. Mum pretended it was fine with her; my father informed me, none to politely that it was not my kettle of fish; my sisters, Bea and Liz... they were abroad at the time - as were most of my friends." His jaw tightened at the memory of his worst season. "And the lads that were still around saw nothing wrong with it, in matter of fact they were impressed by his choice of harlot."

He waited for a moment for a response but Buffy just stared at him. "Buffy it is true that it not exactly the same, but it is close. Your friends are either gone or nonchalant; your father is unavailable and the people you totally trust will neither listen nor open up to you."

"So do you think it's okay that my Mom and Giles might have something going?"

"Of course not!" Wesley said with a snort. "They are close in age, but they are your support system, and you are 'The Slayer'."

"Damn straight!" Buffy bluntly confirmed. "If it wasn't for me the world would have been sucked into hell."

Wesley egged her on a bit. "Precisely! And they won't trust you with the details of what is going on? As if you need more to worry and fret about."

"Yeah!" Buffy pointed ahead. "Here's the road, try turning left, it's a little more empty out that way." She gave Wesley a glance out the corner of her eye and for the first time felt glad that he was there. Out of all the people in Sunnydale he knew how she felt - who would have thought it?

After a few mailboxes Wesley confirmed that the numbers were rising. They drove along for a little over a mile until they came upon a driveway blocked with a chain and a length of 'police line' tape. "Hummm, Buffy I have a pair of bolt cutters and some wire in the back. Would you..."

"You have 'what'?"

"Ahem... well after that operation with the Alliance... and... ah.."

With an upward roll of the eyes, Buffy complained to the heavens. "Great! Thanks! Now even Wesley likes them enough to take notes!"

Wesley worked up an chilly stare. "Don't assume that my pilfering of an idea is a compliment. All in all I found their techniques rather base."

Buffy gave him a questioning look. "So why are you going to the wedding?"

With a slight curl of the lip he turned toward her. "When you were going; so was I. When you were not, neither was I. Now you are, so again, so I must." He checked his rear view. "But now let us deal with that chain."

"Sure, whatever." Buffy said as she hopped out of the van. Wesley flipped the switch to open the back and continued to watch for traffic as The Slayer dug around for the cutters.

"Got 'em!"

"Splendid! Now hurry!"

Buffy slammed the hatch and quickly cleared the chain and police tape from the driveway. Wyndam-Pryce pulled in and waited for her as she wired the barricade back up and returned to the passenger seat. With an exchange of sly grins they made their way to the small house at the end of the drive and parked out of sight behind an outbuilding.

"I got the flashlights." Buffy said while checking the same. "Hey, they even work."

"Of course they do." Wesley huffed. "I have weekly and monthly maintenance schedules for all my equipment, which I follow to the letter."

"But that is so unlike you Wes." Buffy deadpanned.

"In the same way which sarcasm is so foreign to your nature." Wesley noted as he got out of his van. "So exactly what are we searching for?"

Buffy took a deep breath and looked around the place. "Anything that the cops might have missed; anything that will clear Giles; anything of Ethan's."

"Ethan's?"

Buffy took a deep breath. "Yeah, You never know what might help."

"I see." Wesley pointed toward the house. "Well, lets... ah, get on with our felony trespassing."

As the two made their way across the trash strewn yard Wyndam-Pryce's conscience began to bicker with his sense of duty. Uncle Douglas was correct. All he had to do was be a tad understanding and Buffy fell in line. Even though it meant he was now trying to force a window at a crime scene. An image flashed across his mind of his standing before the judge at his deportation hearing - not a comforting scenario.

"Wish Giles was here." Buffy muttered as she rattled the kitchen door. She turned to Wesley. "You any good at picking locks?"

"Ah.... no. I was ill the day that was covered in Watcher training."

"Wow! You made a joke!" Buffy said with a grin. "Are you sure you're really Wesley?"

"Yes... I'm really Wesley." He dryly confirmed. "And since we are already in this deep what do you say we try this?" With that statement Wesley picked up a rather large rock and heaved it through the door glass.

Buffy arched an eyebrow. "So much for 'sneaky'."

With his hand now enveloped in his handkerchief the Watcher reached through the shattered glass and unlocked the door. "Now Buffy, make a conscious effort not to leave any fingerprints for the authorities to find." He opened the door with a kick and entered the house. "It is true that our method of gaining access to this place will be noted, but from now on we must be extremely covert."

"Right." Buffy muttered as she watched Wesley wipe the stone with his handkerchief and give it a toss back into the yard. "Covert. Wipe off the prints. Get out our decoder rings." She stepped through the door. "Eeww! What a pit!"

"I believe you are being 'kind' in your assessment. "Wesley snotted as he shined the light over the stained and battered kitchen. "It looks like it has not seen a scrubbing this decade."

"Yeah." Buffy mumbled her agreement as she shined her light down the basement stairs. She hesitated for a second then flicked the light switch with the butt end of the flashlight. "Electric's still on, come on, down here." With that she disappeared down the stairwell.

This was not how Wesley planned on spending the evening. Giving the doorknobs a wipe he called out to her. "Remember, don't touch anything." Descending into the basement he found Buffy standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips.

"Not like there's anything I want to touch. Yuck! It stinks down here!"

Wesley's eyes began to water from the smell emitting from the drains. He quickly covered his nose with his handkerchief and scanned the basement. Crammed in one corner was a rusty metal cot complete with a thin, lumpy mattress. At the foot of it sat an ancient desk, its chipped paint proclaiming the uncounted layers of color which had been applied over the years. Wesley watched as Buffy approached the desk and crouched down shining her flashlight beam under, what at one time, had been a decorative molding along the edge.

"What are you searching for?"

Buffy made a "brush off" motion.

"Buffy?"

The Slayer hissed a curse under her breath as she stood. She rubbed her jaw for a moment, then went around and planting her foot on the end of the desk, shoved it a few feet down the wall reveling a few trickles of dried blood on the cement block wall.

"What are you doing?!" Wesley demanded.

"They don't clean up too good, do they?" She said, completely ignoring the question. Buffy knelt down in front of the bloodstains and unscrewed the cap from her flashlight. Just as she began to use the plastic lens cover to scrape the blood off the wall Wesley stopped her.

"Buffy glanced at the Watcher's hand on her wrist and then shot him a warning look. "Let go or you'll be pulling back a stub."

Wyndam-Pryce sharply inhaled as he realized why Buffy wanted to come to this place. Something of Ethan's? Good God! In the same instant Conrad-Chaney's warning came crashing into his brain: "We must play his deadly game..." Wesley steeled himself and played a card. "Again... what are you doing? As if I don't already know."

Buffy's expression went noxious as she mocked his accent. "Again... let go, or I'll..."

"Or you will 'what'?" Wesley countered. "This is what one would call an impasse. If you want my assistance, tell me the truth. If not, walk home."

With a hard twist Buffy broke free of the Watcher's grip and snarled into his face. "You said you already got it figured out; so that means Giles told you about me and Willow trying to bring Ethan back; so either help me or get the hell out of my face!"

Except for a barely perceivable nod, Wesley did not move. "There is a roll of masking tape in the van glove box. We can use it to neatly lift the blood off of the wall." He tossed his head toward the stairwell. "Go get it."

The uncharacteristically hard look in Wyndam-Pryce's eyes gave Buffy pause. Her joking comment of "who are you and what have you done with Wesley?" came back to mind. "Why are you doing this?" She asked with more that a small amount of suspicion.

"Why? Because for once in your life you are searching for the truth." He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "And even though I find both your motives and methods less than sterling, I am willing to help, for your sake, for your mother's sake and because it is my duty to assist."

"And to clear Giles." Buffy added sharply.

Wesley averted his eyes as he faintly confirmed her statement. "Of course. Now... (ahem).... you go retrieve the tape while I continue the search." He stood and went over toward the shower enclosure as if to check it for anything of value. Wrinkling his nose at the combined olfactory assault of mildew and the fumes escaping from the dry floor drain, his handkerchief again went into place over his nose. "What a hellhole. What a terrible place to die." He muttered with true pity.

Backing out of the shower Wyndam-Pryce shook his head and sniffed. The sound of Buffy's footsteps crossing the kitchen told him she was on her way to the van. With a second sniff he went over and sat down on the cot. "Why in God's name?" He said outloud to himself. "What is she up to? Two possibilities, either she wants this essence of Mr. Rayne's to call him back for questioning or..." Wesley shivered. "...or to damn him even further into the pit. One would revel the truth, one would hide it." He tapped the flashlight into his palm. "Which one? And who is behind it, Willow or Giles? With her current humor I do not dare press the issue."

Removing his glasses Wesley began to halfheartedly clean them as he pondered the questions. Shifting his position a bit, his foot scraped across a scattering of grit on the floor. He glanced down at the material then his eyes traveled to the wall. With an arch of an eyebrow he reached over and touched a jagged hole in the cement block noting where something had been dug from the wall. He clicked on his flashlight and shined the beam into the hole, but still was unable to discern its depth.

Wesley took out his pen and inserted it into the gap and watched it's entire length disappear. "This is odd."

Buffy reappeared on the steps. "What's odd?"

"Look at this. The marks seem fresh so I assume the authorities removed something from this wall." He pulled the pen back out. "Something was attached here."

"Yeah, and there is another hole here." Buffy said while pointing to a spot on the adjoining wall.

Wesley examined Buffy's discovery. "Hummm... if I had to guess I would say that this is one was created by a bullet."

"But he was shot over at the computer. Look! There is another big gouge in the wall over there."

"Yes, hummm." Wesley's attention went back and forth between the three holes. "How long do you suppose that Mr. Rayne was in Sunnydale?"

Buffy shrugged. "Don't know. 'Potluck' gave Willow the wiggin's on a Sunday night. So that would have been the Sunday before he was whacked."

"Week ago yesterday?"

"Yeah." A confused look crossed her face. "What are you getting at?"

"It just does not add up. Two shots fired, and something bolted to the wall beside a bed." Wesley's brow furrowed. "I wonder if he was not here of his own free will. I just wish I knew if was the police or the perpetrator who removed whatever it was from the wall."

"Whatever." Buffy said with a shrug. "Come on, I got the tape let's get the blood sample and get out of here."

"Yes, good idea. I am getting a bit nervous and I am sure that Willow wants that as soon as possible."

"She doesn't want it... I do." Buffy confessed. "I want to try and bring Ethan back to clear Giles."

"Jesus..." Wesley softly whispered.

Buffy braced herself for the lecture.

Wesley shut his eyes and remained silent, his throat suddenly dry. In a quiet voice he asked her. "Whose idea is this?"

"Willow thought of it first. You know, that Alliance woman did it so Will figured she could too." Buffy looked away and snorted. "But now, all of a sudden, she has changed her mind because it's too dangerous." She flipped a hand upward. "And Giles says we can't try it again. Man! Did he have a fit! What'za matter with him? Doesn't he want to know what happened?"

Uncle Douglas's verdict that Giles was behind the murder shot through Wesley's mind. Of course he would not want Ethan called up.

"So I'm going to do it myself !" Buffy said with an air of finality which dared Wesley to counter her.

After a moment Wesley took the tape from her hand and went over to the bloodstained wall. He pulled off a length of tape and lifted a smudge of blood from the wall. "Now, let us take our leave of this place before we are arrested." Pursing his lips he turned back to Buffy and rewound the tape back onto the roll.

"So you're gonna help me?"

Their eyes met for a split second before Wesley turned away and made his way up the stairs.

"Wesley?"

Wyndam-Pryse stopped at the top of the stairs and waited on Buffy. "I refuse to put you in danger, consequently I am going to do the casting myself."

"No way!" She countered as she came up the steps two at a time coming to a stop nose to nose with Wesley.

"Take it or leave it Miss Summers." Wesley's eyes narrowed as he stated what he truly believed to be the crux of the situation. "This time you must put your trust in me."