Author: Kathryn A Pantaleo

Rating: FRM

Disclaimers: All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, and whomever else he shares them with! I can only dream!!

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Buffy Summers paused in the doorway to her living room. Her mother, Joyce, was curled up on the sofa, watching her favorite soap. Buffy thought of how close she had come to losing her Mom just a few short weeks before, and breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving that the surgery had been successful, and the brain tumor that had threatened Joyce’s life was no more. The blinding, mind numbing terror of those weeks was with her still; a lurking, well remembered nightmare that lingered on the fringes of her awareness, waiting to overwhelm her when she was tired or discouraged. She was both today. Her training session with Giles had not gone well. She had been distracted and unable to bring her mind into the kind of focus needed for the more strenuous exercises that Giles now required of her. The session had ended on bad note when she had missed a hand-held target and kicked her Watcher solidly in the solar plexus. The wind had shot out of Rupert Giles in a startled rush, and he had stumbled backwards to crash into the vault horse and slide into a gasping heap on the floor. When he could breathe again, he had said simply, "Right!…That’s enough for today, I think," and had made his way, a bit unsteadily, back into the main part of the Magic Box and the comfort of his teakettle.

Feeling a foulness that had far more to do with the weight of the problems she was dealing with then the sweat and grime from her work out, she had come home for a shower and a change of clothes in preparation for meeting Willow and Tara at the mall.

Joyce looked up from the television as a commercial came on. "Hi, honey!" she greeted her eldest cheerfully. "How did the training go?"

Buffy forced a smile she didn’t feel for the benefit of her mother. "It was great. Giles said I…umm…took his breath away."

Joyce’s smile became a little vague…the theme music for her show was coming on. "That’s nice dear. Where’s your sister?"

"I left her with Giles, Mom. She was into the homework thing, and I’m going to have some down-time with Willow and Tara before it’s time for my patrol. Giles said he’ll bring her home when Anya comes in to work at the Magic Shop."

Joyce Summers cocked her head. "Are you sure it’s ..Well, you know, safe?" she asked.

"Don’t worry, Mom. Giles won’t let anything happen to her."

Joyce smiled, "I suppose you’re right, dear. Mr. Giles is very good with your sister…Do you want something to eat?"

"No thanks, Mom. I need a shower, and them I’ve got to jet!" Buffy ran up the stairs to her room. Grabbing her robe off her bed, she headed for the bathroom. In no time she had peeled her sweat-soaked clothes off and was luxuriating in a shower only slightly cooler than the inside of Mt. St. Helens. She had the water on hard; hoping it would ease the tension in her muscles that had nothing to do with the workout with Giles. As she let the water cascade over her petite, yet incredibly strong body, her worries emerged from the steam like phantoms stalking her in the mist. Joyce’s recent brush with illness, and her continued frailty was only one of her worries. Another was her sister, Dawn. Some sort of mystical "key" made human and sent to her for protection, she was, none the less, in some inexplicable way, truly her sister. Buffy knew in the core of her being that her love for her sister was real. Regardless of the knowledge that Dawn had actually been alive for only 6 months, Buffy had a memory full of experiences that on some level she knew had never actually happened, yet were real to her just the same.

Worse yet, Dawn now knew of her true identity, or perhaps, the lack of true identity, and it broke Buffy’s heart to see the pain that she was in. At least now, after the most recent encounter with Glory, she had convinced her sister that, regardless of her origins, she was loved for who she was. If nothing else, that was a place to start.

Thoughts of that last encounter raised the shade of Glory out of the steam to confront the Slayer. Glory. Glorificus. A malignant goddess of evil. Ancient. Powerful far beyond anything Buffy had faced before. Thus far she had a consistent record of kicking Buffy’s ass without so much as breaking a sweat. In all honesty, the Slayer had to admit she had inflicted little more damage than bleeding all over Glory’s clothes. She really DIDN’T want to think about what would have happened the previous week if Willow had not translocated her to God-knows-where with an incredibly brave and risky spell. Add another worry. Since that casting Willow had been weakened, prone to headaches and sudden nosebleeds. Tara was keeping things low key, but Buffy could see the concern in her eyes when she looked at her lover.

Buffy understood. She felt it herself.

Turning off the shower, Buffy stepped out quickly toweled herself dry. Slipping into her robe, she wiped a clear spot in the steamy mirror and looked at her reflection. The eyes that looked back at her were not the eyes of a young woman, just shy of her 20^th birthday. The eyes were older, wiser, filled with the knowledge of power, and fear, and loss, and hope.

"Cheer up, Buffy." she said sternly to her reflection, "A badly-dressed Slayer is a cranky Slayer. Shopping can cure this!" With that she headed back to her room for to choose the best outfit for conquering the mall.

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Dawn Summers looked up from the math book she had been working in for the last hour. She had to admit, while not crazy about school, Dawn liked math. Math was honest. Math couldn’t lie. Regardless of the circumstances, two plus two would always equal four. There was no explanation for that. It just WAS. When all else in her life was chaos, math, at least, could be counted on. It had been a week since her world had been rocked to its’ foundation by the discovery that she was not who she had always thought she was. As a matter of fact, she was not sure that she WAS somebody at all. She was "the key". Some sort of cosmic force made real, with a purpose no one, not even Dawn herself knew.

One thing she was sure of now as well. She was loved. Wherever she had come from, her sister and mother had made it clear that she was a Summers to them, and they loved her without reservation. In the last week, she had found herself clinging to that, telling herself over and over again that it was true. True as math, truer than anything.

Dawn looked across the cluttered table in the back of the magic shop at Rupert Giles. Proprietor of "The Magic Box" and her sister Buffy’s Watcher. Giles, still wearing the soft blue sweater and jeans he had on while training with Buffy, was staring thoughtfully off into space, chewing absently on the ear piece of his glasses.

You could tell a great deal about what was on Giles’ mind by what he did with those glasses, Dawn had discovered. When he was thinking, he chewed on them. When he was upset or flustered, he wiped them, and when he was tired or frustrated, he peeled them off and pinched the bridge of his nose. When all that failed and he needed more time to think, he made tea.

For a long time Dawn had been afraid of Giles. She was sure that the Watcher didn’t like her much. He got such a strange look on his face when she was around at times. Almost like he was in pain. She had finally asked Buffy about it. Her sister had laughed, and said she knew just the look she was talking about. A look that was bewildered and annoyed at the same time. She had told Dawn not to worry about it. "He looked at me like that all the time when I was younger. It’s got to be some sort of "old British guy" thing. He gets over it fast enough!" From that time on, she had felt more comfortable around Giles. He had been very gentle with her since she found out about the key thing. He had sat down with her, Buffy, and their mom, and explained everything as much as they knew at the time. He had assured her that, as far as he could determine, her transformation was a complete thing, and she was now a "real" person, regardless of her origins.

She had decided that he was pretty cool…for an old guy, of course.

Rupert Giles’ mind was indeed far away from the cluttered magic shop. He was thinking about his Slayer. The petite girl/child/woman that had been the purpose, goal and for the last 5 years the absolute center of his existence. Stubborn, strong, resourceful, frustrating, he couldn’t begin to describe how life-changing his experiences being her Watcher had been.

When he had first become a Watcher, "the Slayer" had simply meant a tool to him. A tool he would shape and mold, and then unleash against the powers of evil. He had never really thought of the person, the girl, the individual. How wrong he had been! How wonderful it had been to discover what it was to see his slayer grow into a beautiful, fascinating young woman who was both his charge and his friend today.

He recalled clearly the words of that bastard Quentin Travers of the Watchers Council. "You have a fathers’ love for the child, Rupert." As much as he hated to admit it, Quentin had best described how he felt. Damn the old buzzard anyway!

Now his Slayer was facing an apparently unbeatable enemy in the Goddess Glory, and he hadn’t the foggiest notion on how to help her overcome this enormous evil. Watcher, guide…what rubbish! And the cost for failure? His mind shuddered away from that black abyss.

Feeling Dawns’ eyes on him, he stirred and looked up. He gave the young girl a warm smile. "Finished with your homework, are you?" he asked.

"Yeah, almost. What were you thinking about?"

The Watcher stood, started to stretch, winced, and rubbed at the center of his chest. "Oh, nothing really."

"That’s not true," the 14-year-old accused. "You can tell me, you know. I can handle things, lots of things, that you don’t think I can! I’m not just a dumb kid!"

The glasses came off, and the handkerchief came out. Wipe, wipe, wipe.

"I most certainly know that you are not "dumb" Dawn!" Giles green eyes met hers in a steady, direct gaze. "I really think that you are rather remarkable."

"Really?" the teenager replied. Giles looked into the girls dark eyes, and suddenly knew just what to say. There was so much need there. For love, for reassurance, for validation of her very existence.

"Dawn, I know how hard the last few weeks have been for you." Her eyes dropped back to her books, and Giles moved around the table and rested a hand on each slender shoulder, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I know that you have been frightened, and felt alone, but you’re not, you know. We’re all quite proud of you. You’ve showed a great deal of strength. But you must realize that there are issues, things, evils, that Buffy and I deal with that you are just not ready to handle yet…"

Whatever else Giles might have said was lost as the back door to the shop suddenly burst open, and three men clad in black and chain mail, and with swords in their hands, charged into the shop. Giles corkscrewed around at the crash, and in a heartbeat recognized the trappings of the Knights of Byzantium, He grabbed a heavy book off the cluttered table with one hand and flung it at the advancing trio, scoring a hit to the face on one of the Knights. He hauled Dawn to her feet and propelled her towards the front door, while with the other hand he overturned the table in the path of the two still-charging Knights.

He felt a quick stab of panic as two more knights charged in the front door. Without breaking stride, he scooped up an ancient battle-ax that he had been researching for mystic properties and flung it at one of the knights charging in the front. The ax struck the Knight in the chest and stuck there with a horrifying CRUNCH. Giles threw himself on the second Knight and grappled for possession of his sword.

"GET OUT, DAWN! GO! " he roared at the girl. He had an instant to see her dash out the front door, and then he was fighting for his life.

At four to one odds, he knew his chances were not good. He got both hands on the sword arm of the Knight he was grappling with and pivoted, bringing the sword up in time to impale one of the charging Knights. Then he smashed an elbow into the face of the swords’ owner, now behind him.

From somewhere he heard a bellow of "THAT’S THE WATCHER, TAKE HIM ALIVE! FIND THAT GIRL!" Giles struggled desperately; determined to buy Dawn the time she needed to get away.

For a precious few seconds longer he held his own against his attackers. Then a mailed fist slammed into his stomach, and another crashed into his jaw, staggering him. He crashed into a table, upsetting it. He caught a jar full of toadstools preserved in phmalgahyde, and broke it over the head of another attacker. The man screamed as the chemicals burned his eyes. Then one of the knights tackled him, knocking him to the ground. Others closed in and Giles tried to protect himself as he felt himself being kicked and pummeled from every direction. Then pain exploded in his head as something struck him a crushing blow, and he knew no more.

The Knight who had struck him on the head with his sword hilt stood over the unconscious man as the remainder of his Knights moved to secure the premises. He knelt and felt for a pulse, and then peeled back an eyelid. Alive, but out cold, and certain to stay that way for some time. A relief, he thought. They had not expected the Watcher to put up such a fight. For a moment he had been afraid that he would have to kill him, and that would be premature. He didn’t want to think about what the Knight Marshall would do to him, if he had allowed that to happen.

One of his Knights appeared at his shoulder. The leader stood, as the knight banged a fist to his heart. "Sir!" the knight said.

Calm again, the leader said softly, "Report."

"Sir Douglas and Sir William are dead, the target is secure."

"And the girl?"

"Gone, Sir."

"So, we return to the Knight Marshall to report two dead, one witness escaped? Do you have any idea of what he is going to have to say about that?" The Knight turned pale. "I see that you do."

The leader turned, wiping at the blood streaming over his lip from his broken nose. He looked at the blood on his glove, and became aware of the throbbing pain in his nose, the result of the man, now his prisoner, hitting him in the face with a book the size of the Guttenberg Bible. Without changing expression, he kicked the unconscious man in the ribs again.

"Pick this man up, and let us withdraw from this place, before that urchin brings the town down about our ears!" he snapped.

"Sir?" the knight asked tentatively, "are we to leave our brothers behind?"

The leader, whose name was Sir Joram, glanced at his fallen brother-knights. "Leave them. They failed in their duty today, but they can still serve. The Slayer will see them, and know that we have her Watcher. It will serve our purpose, to bring her to us. " With the key. Definitely with the key.