Acquisitions & Retention

Author: Kyle Bernard <csktech[at]yahoo.com>

Disclaimer: All characters with their respective rights, properties, and copyrights are the property of their respective creators, authors, owners, producers, and agencies. These characters are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended or meant, and no money will be made from this story. This story may be copied in its entirety, and may be distributed as long as all copyright information remains.

Summary: A few of the more exotic items in the collection of the British Museum go missing and Giles has to track them down with the help of some very unusual people.

Warning: Crossovers ahead. (Yes Plural.)

Rating: PG-13 to PG-16; for mild cursing, violence, and demonic horror content... in other words a bit more grown up then the series...but only cause I don't have to suck up to censors.

Author's Notes: Based in Tenhawk's Journeyverse this story in meant to compliment his visions. I am not the writer that Ten is and never will be but I count him a friend and thank him for letting me play in his universe and even destroy them once or twice.

Huge thanks to Tenhawk for his help with this and all of my stories. If he didn't let me play in his verse, my life would be less joyful. And as Always to Robert Stevenson, The editor from whom I can never give enough credit to.

Zeke Stone stood there paralyzed. There was nothing he could do, but watch as his wife being brutally raped over and over again. The monsters that were defiling her knew he was there. Every time one finished, they looked over at Zeke and laughed

"That's an ugly sight. I can understand why it would drive you to murder." The speaker hadn't been there before. It was as if he popped out of nowhere while Stone wasn't looking. "Such a pretty woman you wife was, Pity."

By the time Zeke looked back, it had started all over again. It was the same every time. Roz answered the door and the drug dealers broke in, chased her up to her and Zeke's bedroom, tore her nightgown off and raped her over and over and over again.

<This must be hell. > he thought.

"Right you are my friend. This is hell, and you are one of my best side shows."

"I don't belong here." Zeke protested.

"Oh come on Detective Stone. Do you really think HE wants you up there? You murdered three men in cold blood. You even planted evidence so it looked like a drug overdose. But you know what really got you? Oh it wasn't the killing," Satan confided. "Those men deserved what you did to them. No my boy, what got you was that even as you lay dying you believed that you were justified in killing them, and you never asked for forgiveness. My brothers are real big on forgiveness, but you never asked."

"Ok now I know why I'm here," Zeke said sarcastically, "Why are you here?"

Satan looked upwards, "Save me from men that think they are smart."

"So you do have a reason for being here."

"I have a reason for everything I do. In this case your right Detective Ezekial Stone of the New York Police department, I have a problem. One of my guests has found a way to leave our little resort without permission, I'd like you to track him down and bring him back to me."

"If I agree, what's in it for me?"

"Spoken like a true man. Didn't you ever hear never make a deal with the devil? If you are successful, and that is by no means a certainty, If you succeed, You will have another chance at redemption. But I'll warn you now. The man you seek was one of your world most cunning criminals. He did things that your police never even suspected that he was involved in, so be careful or", Lucifer smirked, "you'll end up right back here, watching this till the end of time."

Hope flashed through Zeke's soul for the first time in a very long time. "Ok, Who am I looking for and how do I bring him back to hell?"

"Who it is, you'll have to discover for yourself." The Lucifer smirked. "This is a chance to save your soul, I can't make it too easy. I am Satan after all." Lucifer saw the confused look in Zeke's eyes, "Come on detective you used to do this all the time, find the clues and follow them to their logical conclusion."

"Look I need someplace to start. Police work isn't a mystery, you start by following the facts, this wild goose chase you're sending me on doesn't even have a starting point." Zeke shrugged his shoulders to clear some of the anger he was feeling. "Now you wont even give me a name or at least tell me how I can bring this person back to hell."

"The eyes, Ezekial Stone, the eyes are truly the windows to the soul, destroy the eyes and you will have succeeded. But I'd be careful if I were you, Your opponent knows this also."

Knowing what Zeke was going to say, Lucifer beat him to the punch. "I can't very well just tell you who you are looking for, but I can give you a clue. Take it or leave it."

The devil suffered Zeke's angry glare. "I'll take it." Zeke gasped in pain as burning sensation flared across his forearm and a series of runes appeared to be burned into the skin.

"Read the runes and you will know who you are chasing."

London England

Giles gasped for air, the taste of dust heavy in his mouth. He could still feel the residual power that had been flowing through him in the dream battle. Giles knew that it had been real, he just didn't know how he knew.

"Daa'naal?" He questioned into the empty room. "What happened?"

"So it was real then!" The thought was comforting to Giles for some reason. It was only the memory of all the vampires that had swarmed Xander at the end of the battle that caused Giles to shiver in fear and his eyes began to water over in grief.

<Do not grieve Rupert,> Daa'naal comforted his new bearer. <The Lady Kine and your young friend have been rejoined.>

Indecision grappled with love within Giles. Though he would only admit it to himself, he had come to see Buffy, Xander and Willow as the children he'd never had. That love grappled with his intelligence. He knew that to go to Sunnydale early would risk everything on the new timeline. Any action he took could wipe out the possibility of meeting the ones that he would come, had come, to love.

Daa'naal listened to the silent debate within Giles. When a cusp had been reached he added his thoughts. <You are not ready Rupert. Were we to head there as we now are, most likely one of your charges would die. You are only now learning of the power that I carry.> A hint of anger accented Daa'naal's voice,

In a desperate tone of voice Giles answered his companion as he reached for the telephone, "At least I'll be there…"

"And do what?" It took Giles a second to realize that the voice was not Daa'naal's thoughts in his head, but a real one, coming from behind him. He spun around, His hand held out and calling the Sword of Life to him.

The Voice seemed mildly amused as the sword materialized from nowhere. "Really Rupert Giles, do you think killing the messenger of god will help?"

Giles released the sword, and without thinking about just whom he was talking to, "What are you doing here," he demanded.

"That's what I keep asking myself. The others I can understand, but I thought you at least wouldn't require a warning. Well I guess I was wrong. Michael is going to be bragging about this for the next thousand years." LeMetatron shook his head, "Oh Well, Rupert Giles I shall give you the same warning that I've given to the rest, Only in your case it's a little different, Stay out of the United States until your time has come. To do otherwise will risk everything that you love."

Giles was literally struck down by the fear of God.

"Besides", the voice continued, "You have a task of your own to perform."

When the last word from LeMetatron was spoken, the telephone rang...

Zeke woke up in a dirty back alley somewhere that wasn't familiar too him. As had been drilled into him at the police academy, the first thing he did was check to see if his weapon had been taken. The satin nickel 9-mm was still securely in place in the skeleton holster that he wore on his belt. Reaching around him, he searched for the handcuffs and the spare magazine that should be there. Finding both were still there, he was relived. At least he wasn't expected to do this job with nothing at all.

Zeke took stock of himself. <Hmm>, he thought, He looked down to find that he was wearing the same clothes that he'd been wearing the day he'd been shot. An old gray sweatshirt, jeans that had seen their best days long before he had died, and a pair of white tennis shoes that he'd worn out of habit when he was on a stakeout. He even notice that the department issued radio was still on his belt.

Talking to himself, "Fat lot of good that's gonna do me. Maybe I can hock it. Damn, I'm going to need money." Zeke reached around and pulled out the old wallet that Roz had given him for his birthday the first year they had been together.

Zeke forgot all about the money, he removed the picture of his wedding day to Roz. Maybe I'll give her a call. He started to leave the alley and then stopped. "Yea right. I call and Hi this is your deceased husband, remember me. That'll get me a trip to the local funny farm and then I'll never catch whatever bastard he wants me to catch."

"You seem to have a problem concentrating on the task at hand Detective Stone."

Zeke turned around, only to find Lucifer standing there dressed in a pure white suit. "You dump me someplace that I have no fucking idea where I am, so yes, I think a little disorientation would be normal."

The devil poked Zeke in the chest. "Don't lie to me Zeke. You know and I know what you were planning to do. You think that you can just call her up and resume your happy life. I have news for you, she has moved on. I'd advise you to do the same if you want to survive.

Lucifer grabbed Zeke by the shoulders, "You see that building over there? Sometime in the next few days, your adversary will try and steal some very dangerous artifacts from that place. If he should succeed, then your chances of catching him become almost grim."

Zeke read the name of the building, stunned, "I'm in England," shaking his head in disbelief and shock. "Oh you've got to be kidding me."

"I didn't set the stage or make the rules."

"The hell you didn't." Before Lucifer could answer, Zeke's head snapped upwards as he noticed movement on the top of the building. Pulling his pistol and talking a bead on the roofline, he broke into a run, searching for a way to climb to the top of the British museum.

Spotting only a downspout, he holstered his gun and began to climb. <Fricken wonderful, not only do I have to hunt for some supernatural bad ass, now I have to play Spiderman too.> Hand over hand, he climbed the spout till he reached the top. He pulled himself up over the ledge and drew his gun again.

Sweeping the Browning back and forth he searched the perimeter of the roof. When he found that the perimeter was clear, he moved on to what few structures that would provide cover to a would-be intruder. Hearing a noise behind him. Zeke spun around and saw a brief flash of a figure running from a bank of windows.

Zeke's cop instincts took over. With his tennis shoes flashing in the moonlight, He began to run after the intruder. Just as he cleared that last obstacle, he drew his weapon and shouted, "Halt. Police." The fleeing figure never missed a step.

Zeke was torn. If this was his target he could end this here and now, but it was ingrained in him never to shoot as a fleeing subject, he s wasn't even sure that this was his perp. Then on top of everything else, there had been no threat to Zeke's life or a bystander in danger, so there wasn't even the smallest justification to pull the trigger.

The dark clad intruder made it a moot point. It leapt from the roof of the British Museum onto the building next to it in one very long leap. "Jesus Christ," cursed Zeke, as he took off running again. Zeke's body slammed into the side of the building three feet shy of the top. Stunned, he fell the four stories to the ground and smashed the garbage cans that lay underneath him.

With the dire warning from the voice of god still in his ears, Giles picked up the telephone, "Rupert Giles speaking" he announced into the mouthpiece.

"Mr. Giles, thank you for taking my call. I do so respect a man that answers his own phone. I know your time is valuable so I'll be brief: Have you considered your final resting-place. We here at Everrest mortuaries would like a chance to make your final passing as pleasant as possible. It's a known fact that 95 percent of all the people in Britain leave their final arrangement up to the grieving families they've left behind. We here at Everrest make that as simple as possible by preplanning your demise."

"Sodding bastard," screamed Giles as he slammed the phone back down on the cradle.

Giles turned around only to find the room empty. The voice of god had left as mysteriously as he had arrived. <What the hell was that all about I wonder,> he thought never expecting a reply.

"I'm so heated up I couldn't sleep if I wanted too," Giles answered Daa'naal question out loud."

Daa'naal chuckled lightly in Giles mind. <That wasn't quiet what I had in mind, I said rest, Not sleep.>

At Daa'naal insistence Giles readied him self for bed and lay down on the couch. He'd barely closed his eyes, when he reopened them his apartment had changed into a forested glade. "Holy shit," was the only thing he could think to say.

Dreamtime

Daa'naal had chose the crash site of the Leper Colony more out of habit then anything else, although thoughts of Kevin, his now lost friend, played a small part in that decision. No, the glade would suit his needs perfectly well almost he thought. With a flash of will, the remains of the broken B-17 phased out of the scene.

"Welcome to the dreamtime Rupert Giles."

"Where are we?" The watcher was now understandably confused.

The tall elf turned to Giles. "This is where the battle for Xander's soul took place. It's not really a place, more like a state of mind. And it's the perfect place for a few lessons on Magic. One of your great thinkers said the perfect university was a log, with a teacher at one end and a student at the other." Daa'naal laughed, "Amazingly enough that's exactly the type of schools that thrive in Toril. Although," he admitted, "the tuition is a bit different."

"Socrates." Giles explained. "I've often wished that that were true. The way children are taught today stinks of mass production," He added as an aside.

Daa'naal invited Giles to sit on the log he'd produced. "The first thing you must understand is that magic is a natural force, much like gravity. It has always been present; it's only that on your world, the natural users are very rare. Take the three sisters that you call the charmed ones. They are very powerful Mages…"

"Witches actually," Giles interrupted

"Rupert, please, that word is as offensive to my kind as certain words are too your minorities. They are very powerful Mages, yet they require a phrase to trigger their connection to the power…"

Giles sat there for what seemed like Hours, in that small space of time, he learned more about magic then everything he'd learned in the previous 45 years. It was only when he let out a yawn that Daa'naal paused. "I'm sorry Rupert I should have noticed." Daa'naal waved his hand and the world around Giles faded to black.

Zeke opened his eyes to find the long hair of Lucifer hanging in his face. "Why aren't I dead?" he asked.

The Devil laughed, his pearly white teeth gleaming in the night. "Its rather difficult to kill someone that is already dead." Uncharacteristically he offered Zeke his hand. "I suggest you get a move on, the local police will be here soon."

That statement was confirmed in Zeke's mind when the odd wailing of the British police sirens grew in the distance.

The ringing of the telephone woke Giles up from a very deep sleep. He fumbled for the phone and even though he was barely awake, "Rupert Giles speaking."

There was a short silence on the other end of the phone. "Mr. Giles, this is Officer Ames of Museum security, we seem to have had a problem, the police would like you to come down here to check if anything is missing."

Giles glance up at the clock, "I'll be there in forty five minutes." Hanging the phone up, Giles rose to get dressed. The hunt had begun.

Giles followed the voice of Mr. Amos towards the back of the hall. There he found him kneeling behind a lighted display case. Again, Giles didn't recognize the artifact so he read the display card.

Ancient Viking ceremonial mask. Rumored to be the first artifact left in the New World by Leif Ericson himself. Donated to the museum by Stanley Ipkiss of Edge City.

Before Giles could read further, "Look here Mr. Giles, Broken glass. I knew them coppers missed something last night."

Giles looked upward and sure enough there was a broken skylight with a small portion missing from a corner. "Very well, would you please notify maintenance. I'd like the skylight replaced today. If they give you any problems have them call me at my office. In the mean time I'd also like you to keep a close eye on this area of the museum. Our would be intruder didn't get what he can for, so I suspect he may try more drastic means."

"Right you are Sir. I'll brief my replacement." Amos hesitated, "Mr. Giles what about the police?"

"I'll call them in due time. Now its time to open the museum." Leaving Mr. Amos standing there. Giles went about the business of unlocking all the doors for day's first visitors.

Giles stood by and welcomed all the new arrivals. " Good morning all. I'm Rupert Giles the curator. If you have any questions I'm at your disposal." < "This was one part of the I job that he truly enjoyed, > He thought. <Teaching people about things suits my personality, well, > he admitted to himself, <My current personality, at least. >

He wandered throughout the museum answering a thousand questions about the various exhibits until a flash of raven black hair, combined with a leather jacket and a swagger that would take a thousand years of flaunting societies conventions to develop. He knew that walk, he knew that swagger all too well, He knew the person that belonged to both, Trouble had arrived in spades.

Giles instantly regretted his lack of follow up with the police. If she were here it was only because there was something that she wanted.

<Daa'naal do we have a spell that will freeze some one in place?> He asked his companion.

< Nothing that would be subtle enough for this public of a place I'm afraid. < Daa'naal thought for a second, < Would a distraction be suitable for what you have in mind.?>

< Close your eyes and cloak yourself in obscurity. You won't so much as disappear, rather people will see you, yet ignore your presence as unimportant.>

<After five years with American teenagers I should have this spell down pat in a few seconds.> Giles closed his eyes and felt the connection to Daa'naal. the same warm feeling that he'd felt in the dreamtime flowed over him. When he opened his eyes he had to quickly jump out of the way as a family was headed directly for him.

Giles avoided the oncoming heard of children, and stole off towards the woman's direction. He reached her and releasing the spell he felt the feeling fade. In his best Ripper voice, he whispered in her ear. "Hello Amanda."

Giles attempt at stealth nearly cost him a rib. The startled immortal thief shot her elbow back even as she was jumping with a start.

Giles let out a woof of air. Only took a fraction of a second, but Giles could now respect why Amanda was probably the worlds premier thief. She had taken advantage of that split second, and what headed towards the emergency exit.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Giles called out. "The police are waiting." He bluffed.

Amanda skidded to a stop only a few feet from freedom. She turned back to the man that had accosted her, an uneasy sense of deje'vu nearly flattened her. She knew this man. But for the life of her she couldn't place his name or his face. She dropped her shoulders, followed by lowered her eyes in an apparent defeat. She split her lipsticked lips into a half smile, almost inviting. She waited for him to approach, knowing that he would give her the chance to escape, They always did.

When the stranger stopped just out of attack range, she switched tactics. " Do we know each other Sir. I have this very strange feeling that we do." The she added a few more words to disarm the man. "I'm sure that it was a very pleasant association."

Giles smiled at her attempt at seduction. "Very nice try Amanda. I think it would be wiser if we had this little chat in my office don't you. Giles lead the way with a sweep of his hand, directing Amanda towards the front of the Museum. When there was no one else within earshot, he added a second warning, I would suggest that you not lose your head and reach for that sword you're carrying."

Metro Police Building

"Morse!" The bellowing of the Superintendent carried through the Squad room. The rest of the personal acted like that yell was an everyday occurrence.

Inspector Morse was sitting at the over crowed desk and had almost finished reading the procedure manual that the superintendent has insisted he read and initial. "Oh Bloody Hell." He scraped the chair legs on the floor as he got up to go see what the insufferable man wanted.

When he got to the super's office, Beasley was acting like he hadn't just bellowed loud enough to peel the paint off the walls of the loo. "Ah Inspector, nice to see you. We've received a follow up call from a security guard at the British Museum. I'd like you to take a couple of uniforms and check it out.

"Excuse Me Superintendent, but I'm a homicide inspector not…"

"You're an Inspector with the Metro police. You investigate the cases that I assign to you. It that clear? Good, I'll expect your report on my desk in the morning."

With no other options, Morse grabbed his trench coat and headed out the door.

Zeke had finally overcome the obstacle of changing his dollars for pounds and found a little outside café. He sat down and waited for a waitress. The door to the café opened and a plain looking woman looked out, he eyes locked on Zeke, and it was plain to see that she thought he must be crazy to sit outside this early in the morning. Braving the chill and damp, she headed over to him to get his order. "Good morning Sir, she paused for a second, Wouldn't you be more comfortable inside?"

Zeke smiled at the nice lady. "No thanks I've spent way too much time recently inside. I think I'll sit here and enjoy the weather."

"Right, she said thinking another crazy American. "What'll be this morning ?"

Ignoring the menu, "I'll have 3 eggs over easy. Bacon, lots of bacon. And about a gallon of coffee. You do have coffee here don't you?" he asked somewhat embarrassed.

"Of course we have coffee," said the waitress in the same tone she used to deal with her three year old. "Will there be anything else?"

Zeke smiled in thanks to the waitress, "No that should do it. Thanks!"

As the waitress left, the man sitting at the next table dropped his newspaper. " You're wasting time Detective." It was of course, Lucifer, checking up on Zeke.

"Am I," Zeke said with more confidence in his voice since he had been returned to earth. " I figure something out this morning. I was waiting in line at the bank and this thought kept nibbling at the back of my head. It bothered the hell out of me until I realized that the answer was in my hand. Why would you go to all the trouble of replenishing my cash supply and cleaning my clothes? The answer is simple, You need me just as much as I need you."

"You're over estimating your worth to me Zeke."

"Am I," Zeke said again, only louder. "Then explain to me why you don't go grab this guy. You're Satan after all. What is it about this guy that scares you so much that you have to work through me?"

There was no answer, only an abandoned newspaper left sitting there.

The house on Baker Street was old, old, but not rundown. It was as if the previous owners had known the value of the address and had labored to keep it in as original condition as possible. The new owner laughed at the irony of basing his operations out of this house. Currently he was sitting in the 19th century parlor brooding. Last night has not gone as planned. Failure was something that he was not accustomed to and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Oh Well," He announced to the empty room, "The game is afoot."

The tension between the two men was as palpable as the fog that covered London. Amanda, being the opportunist that she was took advantage, "Well Rupert, I see that you're busy. I'll run along." She squeezed out the door between the two men. With a final wave and smirk, "Call me later."

Giles was fuming when he turned back towards the police officer that had once arrested him in His Comparative Religions class at Oxford. "What the hell are you doing here?" Even a blind man could see the contempt that flushed Giles face.

"I might ask you the same thing Ripper. Last I saw of you, you were walking away with that fat assed Barrister, Horace Rumpole. Morse glanced around the small-disorganized office, "from the looks of things, That was the high point of your life."

"Sod off you drunken bastard. For your information I have a Ph.D. from Oxford, Now are you here to get into a pissing contest or is there some way that I can help you."

"I've been assigned to investigate the reported break in last night. Though from where I'm looking now, I suspect that it was an inside job."

"You're still browned off about me not being the killer back at Oxford. Well I have news for you Inspector... I wasn't responsible then, and I sure as hell am not responsible for the current situation."

Morse locked his gaze onto Giles, "I thought you did it back then and I still think you're guilty as hell today. I'm going to be watching you very closely... Ripper."

Giles suffered the presence of the self-anointed king of investigators for the next few hours as Morse poked and prodded every nook and cranny of the museum. It was only after the Giles had sat down to enjoy his lunch that Morse barged back into the office to announce that he was done and that he'd be keeping an eye on the museum, and by implication, Giles too.

Amanda sat on the couch of the finely furnished apartment that she had borrowed for her stay in London. Sitting there and worrying wasn't going to help, She needed to figure out what had gone wrong. Pacing the room, waiting on a phone call she thought back to that morning. < "There's no way he could have known I was casing the place, so where the hell did I make a mistake?" >

Walking out onto the terrace she rested her hands on the wrought iron railing and looked out over the city. She knew London, She'd know it since before it had electric lights and she loved the maze of streets that made her profession so easy.

Again and again her thoughts came back to the Museum curator. < Hmm She thought. Not tall, but not short either. Damn I wish I could remember where we have met before, this is driving me insane. I know that I know him."> The harder she tried the more elusive the memory became, finally he thoughts were interrupted by the telephone ringing.

She rushed over to the expensive machine and picked it up. "Hello."

"This is Amanda."

After listening to the caller for a long time. "I know it has to be done, but there have been complications. You don't understand, I was recognized this morning. That makes it ten times harder then it should be."

The callers voice drone on into Amanda's ear reminding, her of their shared past. "I know I promised, but the risk is too great."

"I know bloody well what's at stake and I know I owe you." Amanda stood there for a long time. The caller again reminding her how important this job was, not only to them, but also to the whole world.

"Alright," she finally admitted, "It's worth the risk. I'll go tonight and you'll have it by tomorrow."

Amanda slammed the phone back down onto its cradle. "Bloody goody two shoes," She muttered as she returned to the terrace to watch the setting sun.

Zeke waited outside the museum until almost closing time. The police cars spooked him earlier, which was odd since he was once a cop, but Zeke was pretty sure that any call to the NYPD would be, "Arrest the SOB, Zeke Stone has been dead for more then ten years."

He tossed the Styrofoam cup into the trash and jogged across the street, this time looking both ways first. He reached the front door just as the security guard was locking up. Flashing his badge, "Where can I find the Curator? Mr. Amos, who had just come back on duty pointed to the left. "I'm afraid you're a bit late sir we're closing just now.

"That's ok I just need to ask a few questions." Zeke strolled along the marbled floors and tapped on the door of the curator's office.

"Come in," came the muffled response."

Zeke walked in and offered the curator his hand. "Mr. O'Connell, I'm Zeke Stone with the NYPD, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Giles stood up and tool the proffered hand. "I'm afraid that there has been some confusion Office Stone. I'm Rupert Giles, I'm the curator here."

"I don't understand. I was told to ask for Alexander O'Connell."

"Dr. O'Connell was my replacement while I was out sick. Is there anything I might be able to help you with?"

Zeke paused for a second. < "Well" he thought, "one egghead is as good as another I guess."> thinking quickly, he made up a plausible story. "I've been working on a series of high end robberies. The last one was in New York. The perp made off with some very valuable artwork. The only clues that we have is series of runes that were left behind and I was told that Dr. O'Connell might be able to identify them."

Zeke reached into the pocket of his jersey and pulled out a photocopy that he'd made of his arm. "I don't suppose you would know anything about runes would you Mr. Giles?"

"May I?" Giles reached for the piece of paper, which Zeke reluctantly gave up. Giles inspected the copy, but nothing jumped out at him to him. "Well I do know something about runes, however these are not familiar to me. Perhaps I can do some research and get back to you later?"

Zeke sighed in frustration, "Dr. Giles..."

"Please just call me Giles, everyone does."

"Giles, This is urgent. I have some intelligence that your museum is the next target for this thief. I'd really like to get something definite tonight if at all possible."

Giles stood there considering everything that had happened in the last day. "If you would give me a minute, I'll make a phone call."

Zeke closed the door behind him and left Giles to make his call. He wandered around the museum looking at the weapons that were on display near the office. He was looking at a silver dagger and wondering why anyone would make such a useless item when Giles called him back.

"Detective Stone, I've spoken to Alex and he's agreed to see us tonight."

A sense of relief flooded Zeke. "That's great, when can we expect him?"

Giles broke into a wry grin, "I'm afraid that this is a case where Mohammed must visit the mountain. I hope you don't mind, but I need to make a quick stop at home first. When Giles saw Zeke node his head, he grabbed his duster and the pair of them headed out the door.

Moriarty rappelled down the line, breaking into the museum successfully this time. He'd only been there a few seconds when the security guard stumbled upon him.

"You there," shouted Mr. Amos. "Stop."

Moriarty charged the guard and with a slash of his knife across they throat, Mr. Amos was silenced forever.

Leaving the body where it fell, Moriarty searched for the item he'd come from, only to find its place empty. Someone had beaten him to the prize that he must have to stay in this world.

Used to big American sedans that the police commonly bought, Zeke was a little uncomfortable in the small Swedish car that Giles owned. It did however have one advantage that he hadn't expected: When they had stopped at Mr. Giles's home, Zeke, with his policeman's eye, couldn't help but notice that Giles was now packing a gun. The change was subtle and Zeke doubted that anyone without a cop's paranoia would have noticed. The lay of the leather coat that Giles was wearing was slightly different then before and the manner that he moved about was different. Zeke made a mental note to himself to keep an eye on the apparently not so mild curator.

The two men were silent. The only noise was the windshield wipers swiping the small droplets of rain away with a swoosh...swoosh...swoosh, as the car navigated the maze like streets that made up the London suburbs. Just because it was quiet, doesn't mean that there wasn't a lot being said.

<There are just too many unknowns for my taste,> Giles thought to Daa'naal. <First we have an attempted break in, yet nothing is stolen. Then Amanda shows up, which I might add sets my teeth on edge, acting likes she's has never stolen anything in her life. Damn it... The pieces just don't fit together. Now we add a New York detective and that insufferable arse hole Morse enters the picture. It just doesn't add up.>

< Rupert,> Daa'naal said with a slight hint of disapproval in his voice. <Is it possible that your own prejudices are coloring your viewpoint?>

He protested.

Daa'naal managed to keep himself from laughing at that statement, but a small mental snort did escape his thoughts. <Then why my friend, was your first instinct when Morse showed up, to draw me and in your own thoughts, "cut his bloody fool head off?>

<Perhaps not,> Giles admitted. <But it was fun.>

<Fun, possibly. But at what risk Rupert Giles, Remember Mystra's words.>

Magic box
1 July 2000

The goddess Mystra stared at her tool. "My motivations are not for you to question Daa'naal; however it suits me to answer your question. Your recent change has set in motion certain events and opened up options that were before closed." She paused for a second and her gaze shifted towards Giles. "I can see in you great good Rupert Giles of Earth, but I also see the potential for great abuse."

<It is that which is dark in you that makes you have the great potential as a mage, but it's a double-sided sword. It can easily be abused, and given free reign, the Riper would do so with out question. How easy it would be to give up the control that you work so hard to maintain?> Daa'naal paused for a second, <But its that control, directing the anger where it belongs, which gave you the ability to survive the final battle with the Dark Elf."

Giles could say nothing in return. Daa'naal was right. It was anger. Anger that everything he knew would be wiped out, anger that his slayer would be the one that let the demons back through the Hellmouth, but that anger had been tempered with hope too.

Giles finally admitted.

Giles smiled a knowing smile, <That wasn't you. That man could piss off the Pope without trying.>

<That's a luxury that you can no longer afford. We seem to have drifted off the point. What bothers you about this situation?>

<Frankly, Amanda's interest. There's nothing in that section that is truly valuable. Most of the items are mere curios, of interest to historians like myself. She specializes in high value items that can quickly be sold at a very high price, So why is she interested?>

<Rupert. That was an attempt at sarcasm,> teased the Sword of life. <Kevin was quite good at it. Though it appears that I still haven't mastered the art of it.>

<That's the understatement of the year. Still the idea is a good one, why didn't you suggest it to me before this?>

Daa'naal's voice took on an embarrassed hue, <I suppose because I've gotten use to you world. Too use to it, it seems. On my world it's very common for a mage of any power to scan his surroundings for magical energy. It tends to extend their life expectancy when they know who and what they are dealing with.>

added Daa'naal.

"Mr. Giles, Zeke asked again. The driver seemed a bit occupied, so Zeke raised his voice and Spoke again.

Giles twitched his head towards the passenger's side. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"You seemed a million miles away. I was asking you how long you had known Dr. O'Connell."

"An occupational hazard I'm afraid, sometimes your thoughts get away from you. Actually I've known he and his mother all my life. Alex is my Godfather as well as one of my teachers and my friend. Don't worry Detective, if anyone can find the answer, I'm sure it's Alex."

"I hope so," said Zeke skeptically, "I really need an answer as soon as possible."

"Detective Stone," Giles said curtly and with a hint of anger in his voice. "You Americans have an old proverb, don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

Giles and Zeke weren't the only ones driving someplace that evening. Amanda carefully drove the red Lancia across the rain-slackened streets, careful not to drive faster then the posted speed limit. She pulled the small sports car onto the ferry. Now it was a matter of waiting.

The job had gone much easier then she had hoped. The maintenance crews that had been changing the skylight had left their tools behind. So rather then cut the glass, as she had been planning, she simply popped the new pain out glass out of its still wet sealing compound, careful not to leave any fingerprints behind.

After that it was like taking candy from a baby. Three minutes later she had the covering for the puzzle box lifted and it went into her backpack. Thirty feet away, she found the display for the tribal mask and that followed the puzzle box into he pack. <Now for the tricky part," she'd thought at the time.

The last item she'd been instructed to retrieve was a silver dagger that was stored in the weapons display near the front of the museum. That entailed a little more risk, since the guard was posted there. She'd time him earlier, but that was on guarantee that it would be the same tonight.

Lady luck was her companion that night, just as she reached the front gallery she'd heard the footsteps of the guard starting his rounds, which would take him the opposite way. Less then three minutes later she had the dagger and was climbing up the rope. It was pure hubris and a little attitude about the curator that made Amanda stop and reglaze the windowpane back into the frame. Less they 14 minutes total and she was on her way.

The ferry's horn sounded through the night, signaling imminent departure. Amanda looked around and when she saw that the coast was clear, she opened the door and stepped over to the railing. She tossed the puzzle box and the mask, over the side watching them sink into the cold water of the channel. "And that takes care of that," She announced to the open sea. "One more thing and I'm done for the night."

Returning to the car, Amanda was relieved to finally have this debt off of her books. What he does with the dagger from now on was his business.

O'Connell Estate

By the time Giles and Zeke arrived at the O'Connell home they have experienced every kind of rain that England knew, from the little splatters on the windshield it had grown into a down pour and as they exited the Citron it had turned to a freezing drizzle.

Rupert huddled within his coat and hurried to the door with Zeke. If he hadn't been so miserably cold, he might have noticed that the weather hadn't effected his guest at all. Unseen by the pair, the drapes of one of the windows fell back to its original position.

"Mother, Giles is here," Alex O'Connell shouted to Evie.

< Rupert,> Daa'naal said with a slight hint of disapproval in his voice. <Is it possible that your own prejudices are coloring your viewpoint?>

He protested.

<Perhaps not,> Giles admitted. <But it was fun.>

<Fun, possibly. But at what risk Rupert Giles, Remember Mystra's words.>

Magic box
1 July 2000

Giles finally admitted.

Giles smiled a knowing smile, <That wasn't you. That man could piss off the Pope without trying.>

<That's a luxury that you can no longer afford. We seem to have drifted off the point. What bothers you about this situation?>

<Rupert. That was an attempt at sarcasm,> teased the Sword of life. <Kevin was quite good at it. Though it appears that I still haven't mastered the art of it.>

<That's the understatement of the year. Still the idea is a good one, why didn't you suggest it to me before this?>

added Daa'naal.

"Mr. Giles, Zeke asked again. The driver seemed a bit occupied, so Zeke raised his voice and Spoke again.

Giles twitched his head towards the passenger's side. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"You seemed a million miles away. I was asking you how long you had known Dr. O'Connell."

"I hope so," said Zeke skeptically, "I really need an answer as soon as possible."

"Detective Stone," Giles said curtly and with a hint of anger in his voice. "You Americans have an old proverb, don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

Lady luck was her companion that night, just as she reached the front gallery she'd heard the footsteps of the guard starting his rounds, which would take him the opposite way. Less then three minutes later she had the dagger and was climbing up the rope. It was pure hubris and a little attitude about the curator that made Amanda stop and reglaze the window pane back into the frame. Less they 14 minutes total and she was on her way.

Returning to the car, Amanda was relieved to finally have this debt off of her books. What he does with the dagger from now on was his business.

O'Connell Estate

Rupert huddled within his coat and huried to the door with Zeke. If he hadn't been so miserably cold, he might have noticed that the weather hadn't effected his guest at all. Unseen by the pair, the drapes of one of the windows fell back to its original position.

"Mother, Giles is here," Alex O'Connell shouted to Evie.

After a few brief introductions Giles got down to business. I'm sorry for intruding on you here at home, but Detective Stone insisted that time was a major factor." Giles nodded to Zeke.

Zeke reached into his pocket and passed the copy over to Alex.

Hmm, said Alex as he reached for his glasses. "Pity the copy isn't any better." He stared at the photocopy for a long time, occasionally turning it to catch a better light source. "We're losing a lot of detail with just a copy."

Zeke hesitated with fear of discovery, "is that important?"

Alex looked at Zeke over the top of his glasses. "Detective Stone, Some Pictogram languages have as many as fifty thousand icons, any detail can change the meaning of the word or image represented." Alex went back to studying the image. "Can you at least tell me under what circumstances the runes was found under?"

"That would be difficult to explain," Zeke evaded the question. "I can tell you, Its believed to be a name if that helps."

"Alex, Perhaps the Markinson encyclopedia would be of some help," Evie suggested.

"Oh Christ," swore Alex. "That's just what I need, him making my life miserably from the grave."

"Dimetri Petrov Markinson, Probably the finest linguistic theoretician that every lived… and a first class bastard."

"Really now Alex, you shouldn't talk ill of the dead, Besides your father liked him.

"Yea, well he didn't try to fail dad for lack of the proper attitude."

The four of them walked upstairs and into the library. "Gentlemen if you will walk this way," Evie motioned them over to the far wall. "This is the Markinson Encyclopedia, all 324 volumes."

"Jesus Christ," Zeke swore in awe. "Are you telling me that we have to look through everyone of those books?"

"There are only nine sets of these in the world and ours are the only ones in private hands. To answer your question Detective Stone No. Pictograms only use up the first 100 or so volumes, things got so much more interesting when man learned to define symbols into a basic alphabet. Come let me show you."

"Mother, Giles and I are going to make more copies of the runes and them make some coffee, its going to be a long night."

<More like a long week,> thought Zeke. Zeke sat down and took the first volume that Evie handed him. He opened to the first page and his eyes opened in surprise when he saw the dedication. 'To the O'Connells, Evelyn, Rick and Alex, Without the financial and moral support they gave so willingly these books would never have been possible.'

Alex pressed the paper down flat on the glass surface of the copy machine and closed the lid. Selecting the button for 5 copied he hit the start button and the smell of tones filled the room. He turned to Giles and in a quizzical voice asked, "Who the hell is that guy?"

I presume that he is who he sys he is, A New York detective. Why Uncle Alex?"

"It's just a feeling. I can't place it, but I know that I've felt it before. Alex considered the feeling hard. "It's like the feel of death. That's it," he exclaimed, "I only felt like that when I was around Imhotep. He feels like he's dead."

"Wait Alex, don't panic."

<Daa'naal is it possible?>

"Alex please give me a chance to find out what is going on. We do this slowly, we go back and act like nothing has happened. Ill signal you if I get some reaction from Mr. Stone." Giles reached under the duster and withdrew one of the stainless pistols, then handed it to Alex.. "Just in case."

The two men returned to the library, both of them trying to act as if nothing had happened. They'd agreed on the way back to separate, leaving the now suspicious intruder less chance of killing both of them. Alex entered first and went around to the opposite side of the table where Zeke was scanning the pictograms. He raised his head. "Where's the coffee guys" he asked unsuspiciously.

Giles cast the spell and got the most curious results. Stone's aura was a mixture of the darkest black and the brightest of silvers. It was Daa'naal's words that totally confused Giles from that point on. <Lawful good Rupert. I've never seen such an even spilt in one person before.>

"Officer Stone," very carefully stand up, Giles said in a no nonsense tone of voice. "One false move and I'd be pleased to separate your head from your shoulders promptly."

Watching the older man with the gun, who he perceived to be the greater threat. Zeke stood up slowly with his hands in the air. "I'm not moving a muscle" he said as he turned around only to be confronted by Giles wielding a shining long broadsword. "Not a muscle." He repeated.

When the police detective was fully against the bookcase, safely away from the others, Giles motioned for him to stop. "Who the hell are you. And I don't mean the load of crap you've already fed us. The truth this time."

Zeke closed his eyes in pain. <Oh well it was fun while it lasted.> "My name is Zeke Stone, Well Ezekial actually, but no one calls me that. I was a New York detective when I was shot in the line of duty. I died that day and I've spent the last 12 years in hell." The group was stunned by his proclamation.

"So why are you here and what do you need from us?"

"I'm afraid that I can't let Zeke answer that question." came from a voice from behind Giles.

Before Giles could turn around another voice, this one in s stuffy English accent, "You no longer have a choice about that." Lucifer and LeMetatron had arrived.

The longhaired devil turned around and faced the Voice of God. "What's the matter is it slow week up there? Is she actually pretending that she cares for these mortals long enough to actually send her secretary to intervene?"

LeMetatron didn't justify that comment with a reply. "You made a deal. This was to be a simple search and retrieve scenario. Now you want to directly interfere." The Voice of God turned to Zeke, "Tell them everything." Then he turned back to a shocked Lucifer, "If you interfere any further, then the deal is off and we let them keep the dagger when they find it."

The two Angels, one fallen, and the other that stood on the right hand of god, stared at each other, both of them Knowing that any confrontation on this world would doom them both. The unwitting witnesses could only stand there helpless, praying that common sense would prevail. With a nod of his head, Lucifer blinked and the danger filled second passed.

Lucifer turned to Zeke, "Tell them then, but never forget that you're my agent." A clap of thunder rocked the window panes of the library drawing everyone's attention, when they turned back, both of the Angels were gone, leaving Giles standing there with the sword, still threatening Zeke.

"You don't know my boss," Came back Zeke quickly.

"Well now, that's not something you see every day." He said as he lowered the Sword of Life. "Now explain, what dagger was LeMetatron speaking about?"

"Excuse me." Alex stood and went over to where Giles was still keeping Zeke at bay. "I hate to ask the obvious, but who the hell were these too?"

"Well the one with the long dark hair that Giles wanted to skewer was my boss. Can I put my hands down now?"

"Oh very well Giles said testily as he released the sword back to the ether. "The other one was LeMetatron, also known as the voice of God."

"Oh! Alex turned away acting like he was visited every day be the angelic host. "I do have another question. Well two actually he confided. The first is, What is the dagger that this LeMetatron," Alex struggled with the word more out of shock then lack of ability to speak, "referred to, and Second, Why is no one in the room all that surprised that Angels just popped in for a quick visit." That question went unanswered, the first didn't.

"I've found it!" exclaimed Evie.

The three men turned their heads back to where Evie had been forgotten in all the excitement. "The rune…. The rune…"

Zeke rushed over to her side of the desk. "Who is it," he asked excitedly, "Who the hell have I been chasing?"

"Its no a who, Evie said absentmindedly, "It's a what."

Before she could answer Giles held his hand up… "Evie."

Lady O'Connell understood exactly what Giles had in mind.

"Perhaps," Giles began, "before we expound on that, I think it would be prudent of we got the rest of Detective Stone's story."

"I agree completely, interjected Alex. HE smiled at Giles and in a confidential whisper, "You always were the shrewd one lad. Why I still remember the first dig you went on with me…" Alex trailed off when he saw the look in Giles eyes. "Perhaps another time then."

With a wave of his hand Giles made it clear that they would not continue until Zeke had finished telling his story. "We aren't getting any younger" he said expectantly.

"What I've already told you so far is the truth, Zeke began again. "I was a cop and I was killed on duty twelve years ago. Since then I have been serving penance in hell. Zeke planted his arms on the table and leaned against his head in his hands. "Three days ago, Lucifer came to me with a proposition. One of the more notorious inmates had escaped and he wanted me to track him down and return him to hell. Zeke leaned back in the chair. He won't tell me the name and he refuses to tell me why he can't track him down himself. The only thing he did give me was those runes." Zeke's face turned serious, "I can tell you this, whatever in bad assed enough to scare Lucifer has me worried."

Giles voice softened, "What have you found Aunt Evie?"

"Well… first off, It's not even a human language. It's from one of the earliest known forms of writing that have been dated before modern man. Evie marked her spot with her finger, " There's a personal note from Dimetri here, wait I'll read it to you. It says, My dear tovorish, no other copy has these entries for the simple reason that I would not be believed. The entry read Dendoriva Vo'rva, Which Dimetri translated as, 'The Dendari Dagger'

Zeke was fuming, "What the hell is that. It was supposed to be a name. I can't believe it, that son of a bitch lied to me."

And that surprises you, Alex said. He turned to ask Giles a question but instead he found a shivering Giles, the color in his face drained away with shock. "Giles are you all right?"

The Watcher shook his head no. "Evie read the name again."

"The Dendari Dagger."

"No the original name" he whispered.

"Dendoriva Vo'rva." Evie carefully pronounced.

"Oh My god," cursed Giles. "I need a drink." Without saying anything else he left Evie, Alex, and Zeke sitting there, each wondering of Giles had gone mad.

They found him in the bar tossing back a large drink. "Giles, asked Alex, "what is so frightening that you needed a drink/"

"Dendoriva Vo'rva is a word that comes from the oldest of the demon languages. I thought that the council had collected all of those works years ago but it seems your friend found one that they missed. The literal meaning is the Devil's Soul."

He took another healthy swallow of the scotch he'd poured himself. "There's something you have to understand. Demons are classified by their personal power. Vampires would be considered first level demons and as horrible as they are, they are tamed compared to the upper lever demons." Giles words were accented by the clink of the brandy bottle clinking against his glass. "Any demon above the eighth level is, for all practical purposes immortal. If there are killed on our world they are simply sent back to their own circle of hell."

Alex and Evie's faces became as colorless as Giles's had when he'd first heard the word, both had experienced the kinds of hell that Giles described.

"The only way to truly kill a demon like Lucifer, is to destroy his soul, which is hidden in the Devil's Dagger."

"Holy Shit" whispered Zeke.

"Wait a second." Alex hadn't become enmeshed in the worry that had gripped both Giles and Zeke. "Wait a second, now." The name, The Devils Dagger had triggered a very old memory, but he couldn't quite place it but he knew it was from childhood and there was a connection to the color red and he wasn't feeling good. He'd stayed home from school. < Blast it I know that name. > The old archaeologist rushed to the section of the library where he'd kept all the books from his childhood to his childhood.

Alex rolled the ladder over and started scanning the top most shelves. "There," he shouted as he climbed the ladder. When he reached the top he pulled a book that had been bound in red leather, "I've got it." He slid down the ladder and smugly headed back to the other.

"Alex, his mother asked, "Have you gone crazy?"

"No more than anyone else in this family."

"That's not very reassuring. What have you there?"

"Wait just a second, Mom." Alex opened the old book to the index, he thumbed down the list of the stories and he found what he was looking for second from the bottom. "Remember when I was seven. I got pneumonia and had to stay home for two weeks? Well Uncle Jonathan gave me a get well soon present. I never even liked fiction until that week. This is the book he gave me. Alex marked his place, then held up the book so that all of them could read the title: The Unprintable Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

Giles bent over and began to study the old volume. Being a huge Holmes collector, "I thought I'd collected every one of his works. Alex, did your uncle ever say where he got this book?"

"I never asked him Giles, Sorry. And I have never seen another copy."

Giles sat down. He'd claimed the book from Alex and began to read the first story.

"You can have the book Giles, but we do have more important things to do first. The Devil's Dagger was a story about Holmes and Moriarty's race to find a mystical dagger that was said to kill the devil. Strangely enough, the dagger was hidden in a museum and disappeared, just as the pair were about to clash. There was a third party that was also looking for the weapon."

Zeke had listened to the unbelievable story with growing skepticism. That doubt showed in his eyes, and the stance of his body.

"Don't you see it?" Alex's enthusiasm was lost on the hardened detective.

"See what. What I see is that we've just been wasting time when my target is still on the loose."

"Look detective." Alex's face turned serious. "Someone, for some reason is recreating the story. Lucifer even gave you the name of the story as the first clue. You and Giles have assumed the Holmes and Dr. Watson roles. I'm guessing that your opponent will be Moriarty, or someone like him. In the story, the thief turned out to be the Lady of Glossier, who led a secret life as a thief to finance her charitable activities."

"Oh my god!" Giles stood up. "Amanda, I knew she was looking for something. I thought I'd scared her off."

"Wait there's more. The thief stole, well she called recovered, the dagger at the behest of a priest whom she owed her life to."

The further Alex went the more that Zeke doubted, "Great another mystery. Hasn't it occurred to anyone that this is all a fantasy of an old man?"

"Fantasy," Alex scoffed, "Now that's choice comment coming from a dead man that has risen from hell. Look at the facts. We just had a visit from two of the most powerful angels in the host of angels and they argued over you and the Dagger. Fantasy sure, but it fits the known facts."

Alex's words struck a cord in Giles. Curiosity filled his voice, "A test? They've recreated the plot of the story just to test something." Giles sat there a considered the facts, and his options, when he was sure that he'd covered the possibilities, he spoke up. "I suspect that the object of this test is Officer Stone or myself." Giles turned back to Alex who was now staring at the red bound book. "Alex how does the story end?"

"Well I'd have to read it again, but if I remember right, the dagger is recovered by the church, and Holmes and Moriarty miss each other by a few minutes. There's one more thing." Alex paused to draw a breath. "The dagger turns out to be worthless. The pair had been chasing a folk tale. The church tests the knife and finds that there is nothing special about it."

"Well let's solve that right now," said Giles. He sat back down, opening the book again, only to find that it was now a collection of blank pages.

The Voice of God stood before the short woman who broadcast feelings of power and love in equal shares. "I know it was a bit over dramatic, but so was the burning bush. All I did was level the playing field a bit."

The Voice stood there silently for a few minutes. "Well they opened the door; I just walked in and helped myself. No, they have to figure that out for themselves."

A smile grew on the face of God, a smile that was tempered with understanding. "I know I pushed the limits of the agreement, but I also know that Ezekiel Stone deserves the chance at redemption. We both understand his importance to the future."

God nodded and turned away happy that her champion in this fight now had all the pieces he needed to solve the puzzle.

The sunrise of the next day found the principle characters in different locations, thinking the same thought. "What the hell is next?"

Zeke and Giles were back on the road to London. The argument at the O'Connell residence let the pair silent. Neither one willing to concede that the whole mess was just a test. Even though it was his idea, Giles didn't like being played with like a child's toy, which had happened too often in the past. He knew his next step would be to find Amanda, which he also knew wouldn't be easy. He remembered that Duncan MacLeod should be somewhere in Europe and that made the most sense, He'd start there.

Zeke stared out the windscreen, watching the traffic nervously. When Giles pulled up to the hotel, he got out. Leaning back into the car he said, "I'll get a few hours sleep and meet you back at the museum tonight." He reached into his pocket and handed Giles one of the hotels cards. "I'm in room 17, if anything comes up, give me a call." Without another word, he slammed the door, leaving Giles sitting there.

Moriarty for his part had returned to the house on Baker Street. He was sitting in the study, at the desk that his archrival Holmes had used, planning his next move. "True," he admitted to himself, the dagger is missing. "Now, who is most likely to be interested?" Moriarty couldn't discount the possibility that his unknown foe may know of the dagger and its importance. He himself may have pointed that fact out simply because it was missing. The other missing objects should work to Moriarty's advantage; that gave everyone else two red herrings to chase, while only he knew the real prize.

Sunrise found Amanda driving up a rutted and winding road. Her goal lay at the end of the road and she was anxious to be ride of the stolen dagger. If she had been given a choice, she would have walked away from that blasted museum and never crossed it doorway again, but a debt is a debt. Parking the car, she advanced on the double doors that guarded the entrance to the ancient monastery. The immortal thief pulled the long rope that signaled the monks that someone wished sanctuary.

A single monk, wearing the drab robes of his order, opened the heavy double doors. In silence he motioned for Amanda to follow him. The pair walked through the silent building and entered the great hall. In the great hall of the monastery a service was being held the only sound that penetrated the thick walls was the sound of the monks chanting in prayer, the only words they were permitted to speak.

The monk held his hand up to stop Amanda from advancing Amanda waited as he bent over and whispered to one of the brothers seated in the back row. The cowl-clad monk rose and walked over to her, "Amanda, I'm so happy you could joins us"

Amanda stood in shock, "Darius?"

The café across the street from the British museum was doing a thriving business. There were just two men sitting there, but the police officers were watching the constant flow of business.

"Well Tron, do you think they bought your story?" Lucifer's question did not reassure Metatron in the least.

Metatron lifted his tea and sipped the hot liquid. "For now, yes." Anyone nearby, if they had known who the two were, would probably wonder why Angels would drink tea in the first place.

"For now." Lucifer turned his head toward the Voice of God, "Why doesn't that thought comfort me. You know how luring the temptation is going to be when they discover that the dagger permanently bonds the soul to a body. Zeke and Daa'naal both could use that power. What was on your mind when you loosed it on the world?"

"First, I didn't loose it. The previous bearer grew weary of life. It was his estate that donated it to the museum and left it open to be picked up by anyone. I'm not worried about Daa'naal, he made the choice to give up his physical body and Zeke, well that's a test that only time will tell, but there are others that would destroy the world to have physical form again. If the First gets his hands on it, then hell will be a pleasant place compared to earth."

Lucifer could only nod his head in agreement.

Amanda's face turned an ashen gray. "You can't be here, you're dead."

"It has advantages because; if I were alive then I wouldn't have been able to fool you so easily." All around the pair the other monks dropped their cowls exposing their scarred eyes.

Amanda drew her sword and prepared to defend herself.

"You think you can escape us with that insignificant weapon. Give me the dagger and I shall let you free." The figure morphed into the body and face of her lover, Duncan MacLeod. "Surrender the weapon, Amanda, and we can be together forever."

Amanda slashed at the faux Duncan and her sword passed right though him. Now off balance she used the momentum to roll toward the door, away from the charging monks. "What the hell are you?"

"Nothing more then the darker side of you. Give me the dagger."

"Well since you want it so badly here. Amanda took the dagger in her left hand and prepared to throw it at the First Evil.

Before she could throw the dagger Amanda was tackled by one of the cursed monks. Tossing an elbow into his face she heard the First evil scream, "NO."

The ire of their master was enough to distract the monks, and Amanda fled through the door. Using her momentum, she took a savage slash at the monk guarding the entrance and his head hit the ground. Amanda dashed for her car. When she was sure she was safe she decided to head for Paris to see if Duncan knew, or could figure out, just what she has gotten herself into.

Daa'naal waited until Giles was asleep. The pair had been studying in dreamtime for hours. The current crisis had left Giles unsure of his abilities and Daa'naal was forced to agree, they had become slack. What he was about to do was considerably dangerous, not only to him, but to Giles as well. Sitting down on the log he had created as a schoolroom, the platinum blond elf considered his options. He searched the night sky of the dreaming and found the greenish hue that was the Lady Kine's signature, broadcasting a message. He could only hope that she would answer.

"Master Mage, what you have done is dangerous. Why have you called me?"

"Lady Kine, I am please you survived the debacle at the school. We did not have time to speak during the battle to save your bearer's soul, but know that I am pleased to see that it is not only my bearer who survived. I would not have taken the risk were it not justifiable. There are things I need to know, and information that you need as well."

"Very well." The tone of Elan's voice was anything but pleased, but she had little choice, she had answered the call when she could have easily ignored it. She released the anger she had felt at being summoned as she was. "True, but Alexander's ability to call his friends in a time of crisis was unexpected."

"That barely covers the sentiment. I recognized most of them," Daa'naal smiled. "I would have expected no less of the dark-haired slayer, she, like Giles, has a hidden attachment to Alexander that rivals any I've seen before. Her defense of Giles during the battle with the Dark Elf proved to me that her caviler attitude is merely a façade that she shows the world. Frankly I was confused by the dual representation of Buffy. The younger one felt of this time, but the older one had the flavor of Toril about her.

Elan was also mulling over the actions and repercussions of how Alexander had managed to call on everyone that he had. "That will become clearer in time," she added. "Alexander is currently searching the country for his friends. He is slowly working his way across the country making contact with his friends. He seems to be enjoying himself in the process more then he should be," Elan laughed out loud. "That is Alexander for you. The gods named him truly, he is a wildcard. You know as well as I, that time is more resilient than Giles or Alexander believed.

"That brings to the true purpose of this meeting. The Gods have forbidden Giles from interfering until he is scripted to appear. Frankly Lady Kine, I had hoped better of him, but his first reaction was to rush to his friends' sides at the first sign of trouble."

"Did you honestly expect anything else? I can see the family ties that bond this group together. They bicker like brother and sisters, yet in the end, the will stand and fall as a family. There are events that can not be avoided; Giles need not worry. All things will come together when they need to."

"That's a relief. Should I tell Giles this?"

"I'm sure he will come to realize it in his own time." Elan locked her eyes on the Elven Mage. "Use the time we have to the best advantage. Concentrate on your training for now, though I do not think Alexander would object to your bearer visiting the council of watchers to set a few things straight."

Daa'naal though about that comment. "Nothing would pleasure me more, but we have our own adventure that is taking up most of Giles's time as it is." Daa'naal explained all of the events that had led him to calling the Kine'Iende warrior.

It was when he described the dagger that her interest was peaked. "Describe this dagger," she demanded.

"I can do better than that." A silver dagger materialized in the air between the pair of magical warriors.

"Daa'naal of Toril," she began in a formal tone. "Under no circumstances let this weapon fall into the hands of the escaped soul from hell. When your bearer has this weapon, summon me again, that we can decided a safe place of it. That weapon could be the beginning of the end." Elan began to feel the call from Alexander. "My time grows short."

"Wait, Lady Kine. Give Xander this number and try to have him call. Giles does worry about him." Elan faded into the mists and Daa'naal released the dream.

Giles pulled up to the museum flabbergasted that there were so many police vans there. Before he could even get out of the small car, uniformed Bobbies accosted him. "Are you Mr. Giles?" When he nodded his head in the affirmative, they pulled him out of the car. "Come with us. Inspector Morse would like a word with you."

Giles, for want of a better term, was half dragged under the crime scene tape and into the museum that was now crowed with police officers and crime scene technicians. He was only given a glimpse of the chalk outline on the floor, where a body had been removed earlier, before he was pulled into his own office. There, sitting at Giles's own desk, was Inspector Morse.

Rupert Giles was incensed at the intrusion of his private space. "Get out of my chair," he said in an unmistakable tone of voice.

The gray-haired Morse was not in the mood to indulge anyone. He had a murder to solve. "Well, well, well, I told you I'd be keeping an eye on you, Ripper. Now we have a body, in a locked building for which you have the only set of keys that are unaccounted for. Mind trying to explain that?"

Giles leaned across his desk and flipped through his Rolodex. When he came to the O'Connell's number he spun the card file around, pointing the number. "I was with Lady and Lord O'Connell all night. There's their number, I'm sure even one of your low intelligence can operate the telephone and confirm my whereabouts last night."

Inspector Morse reached for the telephone. Giles quickly put his hand over the phone. "There is a pay phone in the lobby." The Inspector looked at Giles as if he were Jack the Ripper. He was half-right, the Ripper had come out to play. The room became deadly silent, the two men staring each other down, each waiting for the other to blink.

It was the half grin that Giles exposed like a wolf baring its teeth that cause the inspector to give in. "Right." < I'm going to haul this cocky bastard in no matter what I find out. The superintendent can apologize, I'll be damned if I will. > Slowly and with great reluctance he got up out of Giles's chair, "Don't go anywhere," he said in a hostile tone of voice. "I'll be right back and then we will have a little chat."

Giles watched as the door close behind the impertinent Police Inspector. Sighing, he picked up the phone himself and dialed a number from memory.

M was sitting at his desk in the ministry working on the latest 007 case when his private phone rang. "Yes," he answered in his upper crust accent.

"Good morning M. I'm so sorry to disturb you so early in the morning."

"Ah, Lady Croft, always good to hear from you, no matter what the reason. What can I do for you today?"

"I'm afraid that I shall have to call in another favor. There's a Police Inspector that's making an ass of himself with one of my colleagues."

M listened as Lara explained the facts of the case. When he had all the relevant information, "I'll handle it, Lady Croft. That's another one you owe me."

"You can subtract it from the ones that James owes me and we shall call it even. Good day M."

Morse hung up the public telephone slowly, which matched his mood, slowly burning. He'd verified Giles's alibi and that left him in a foul mood. His thoughts were interrupted by one of the crime scene technicians. "Inspector, we've fond the means of entry."

"Any chance for usable fingerprints?"

"Unlikely, Sir. There wasn't much to start with. Only a few shards of nylon rope and a scuff mark where the piton was belayed."

"Well do your best. I've made cases with even less." Morse was so busy with the technician that he didn't notice the tall lanky man, dressed in an old sweatshirt, wandering around the crime scene.

Zeke, for his part, had slept a few hours. Once again he'd gotten up to find his clothes cleaned and the two hundred dollars in his wallet. As he left the hotel, the intuition that had kept him alive kicked in full force. He discreetly scanned the street, looking for something that didn't belong. In the shadows, Moriarty watched and waited.

Returning to the museum, Zeke flashed his badge to get inside of the crime scene. The tall detective was impressed with what he saw. The right things were being done. Zeke headed for Giles's office and knocked on the door. A brusque "Come in," invited him in.

Zeke opened the door, "Mr. Giles."

"Good morning, Officer Stone."

Zeke thought for just a second. "Look, we are going to be working together for a while. Why don't you call me Zeke?"

"Of course Zeke, call me Giles. I've become used to it."

A pounding on the door broke up the introductions. Zeke was closest to the door so he opened it to find Inspector Morse standing there red-faced.

"Well, Inspector," said Giles. "I assume that you've come to apologize."

"Fat chance of that happening." The telephone on the desk made it impossible for Zeke and Giles to hear whatever else the irate policeman was going to add.

Giles looked at Morse. "I believe that's for you," he said with an evil grin on his face.

The inspector picked up the phone. "Morse here." For the next five minutes he stood there listening, his red face deepened in color until he passed livid. Finally, Morse said, "Yes sir," and hung up the phone. He turned to Giles, "I've been ordered to apologize." Then without a hint of sincerity in his voice, "I'm sorry." Morse stalked out of the office like a bear was chasing him.

Zeke watch the fleeing inspector, "What the hell was that all about?"

Giles smiled. "When the head of MI6 tells you to apologize, its best to agree, otherwise your career choices become very limited."

Giles sat at his desk, the top covered in ancient tomes. For the last nine hours he and Zeke, had been searching for some bit of information that would lead them in the right direction. Giles looked up, and though the detective hadn't complained once, Giles could tell that research was not Zeke's forte.

With his eyes closed, pinching his nose between his fingers, "Well this has been a waste of time."

Without looking up Zeke answered him, "I said that five hours ago."

"Five hours ago, we still had less than a tenth of the books even looked at," Giles huffed. "I'm missing something, I know that it's here, I just don't know where!"

Daa'naal watched as frustration built upon frustration, Giles and Zeke were spinning their wheels trying in to find someplace to start. Daa'naal had seen Giles when he was mad, when he was frustrated and even when he was scared out of his wits. He'd slowly learned that while Giles had a huge reservoir of patience, there came a point were the civilized part of his persona lost control and the Ripper took over. "Blast it," he yelled and threw the book he was reading across the room.

Zeke was shocked at the anger that was emanating from the bookish Giles. "Calm down, it's not like we are going to solve this today."

"Sod it." Giles reached into the top drawer and got a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Fishing one of the stale smokes out of the pack, he lit it and drew in a lung full of the calming smoke. It only took a few minutes before he realized what he was doing. Looking around, he spotted the half-empty cup of tea, and dropped the cigarette in the cold drink and exhaled deeply. "Let's call it a night."

Zeke stumbled as the wall next him exploded. Falling to the ground the grating sound of gravel against his face scraping away the skin of his cheeks, Zeke screamed in pain. "What the fu-"

Two thugs picked him up out of the rubble. Their faced were distorted, so Zeke thought, < These are vampires. > Each one maintained an inhuman hold on him as a small, distinguished gentleman, with a beard shot with gray approached him. "I can not say I'm impressed. I would have thought that Lucifer could have at least chosen someone that would be a challenge. You, Detective Stone, are a disappointment. It seems our host chose his champion poorly."

Sweat beading his brow, Zeke struggled against the iron grip of the demons holding him. When he saw that was futile, he went limp. "Who the hell are you?"

Moriarty's eyes jumped up and glistened with interest. "You mean he didn't tell you? I am Professor James Moriarty. His face grew hard. "I spent a hundred years in hell, and you are the best he could come up with?" Morality nodded his head to the vampire henchmen he'd hired.

The larger of the two let go of Zeke's arm, but before Zeke could take advantage of the freedom, the smaller on caught him by the elbows and pinned them behind his back. Two quick blows to the solar plexus left Zeke gasping. Then a knee to the face bloodied his nose.

"I'm sorry should that name mean anything to me?" he gasped in pain.

"I should think, Detective Stone, that it would mean everything to you." He slapped Zeke across the face. "That is for being an ignorant lout. I was..." Moriarty smiled, "am the supreme mind in all the world." He turned away from his prisoner and began pacing.

Without thinking, Zeke spoke: "That a fact, then why were you beaten to the dagger?"

Moriarty nodded again. The vampire gave Zeke a right cross of epic proportions. In snapped his neck to the side so hard that his necked popped, sending the loose blood flying. "There are worse things than dying, Mr. Stone. In fact, I believe I shall save myself the time, and you the pain, of this interrogation. You see Detective Stone, one little bite from our friends here and then all I need do is wait for you to rise again and you will be more than willing to tell me everything. Bite Him."

The vampire holding Zeke's arms sunk his fangs into Zeke's neck, only to be turned to dust, as the lethal blood began flowing. The one- second of surprise was all Zeke needed. Reaching back he drew the Browning Hi-power. He pulled the pistol on line and loosed two rounds.

The first bullet struck home with Moriarty's left eye exploding with a splash of blood. Green fire shot out of his eye like a searchlight, finding the remaining vampire. It struck him, knocking him backward thirty feet. His body hit the wall and the exploded into a dust cloud.

By the time Zeke turned around. Moriarty was gone.

Giles walked through the doorway exhausted. Hanging the shoulder holster on the coat rack he unlocked the pistol case and returned the Detonics to the foam lining. < It's said that tide and time wait for no man, well it bloody will tonight, > Giles thought as he headed for the liquor cabinet. Pouring himself a stiff drink, he sipped the aged scotch and relaxed. For the next few hours he simply sat and drank, becoming pleasantly numb.

Feeling lonely he turned to the one thing that'd always comforted him, music. He dug his guitar out of the closet and sat back down. With his fingers slowly finding the long lost cords, he strummed a tune. Faster and faster he played the song until he got the right tempo and pitch, when he felt comfortable he began to sing.

The Eastern world, it is explodin', Violence flarin', bullets loadin'. You're old enough to kill, but not for votin', You don't believe in war -- but what's that gun you're totin'? An' even the Jordan River has bodies floatin'. But you tell me, over and over and over again, my friend, ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

When he finished the first verse he could hear a strong tenor in his mind singing along. Giles smiled for the first time in a long time. Finally he and Daa'naal found something, besides their work, that they had in common.

Don't you understand what I'm tryin' to say, An' can't you feel the fears I'm feelin' today? If the button is pushed, there's no runnin' away, There'll be no one to save, will the world in a grave. Take a look around you, boy, It's bound to scare you, boy. An' you tell me, over and over and over again, my friend, Ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

When the song was done, Daa'naal spoke up. // You play well Rupert. You should do that more often. //

"And I didn't know that you could sing."

// Music is a big part of life on Toril. We have no TV, // There was without a doubt a heavy tone of disgust in Daa'naal's voice. // Music entertains us and there are songs that teach us. Many times while I was on the road, I would sing the old songs. My only regret is that I had no talent for a musical instrument. Mother once hired a Harper to teach me. I'm afraid I was hopeless. She left after only three weeks, giving my family their money back. Though I can't say that I truly appreciate what you call modern music. //

"Well I think I can come up with something a little older if you like?"

Once I loved a maiden fair,
But she did deceive me;
She with Venus might compare
In my mind believe me.
She was young, and among
Creatures of temptation,
Who will say but maidens may
Kiss for recreation.

Daa'naal began clapping along with the song just as he'd done in bars all across Toril.

Three times did I make it known
To the congregation
That the church should make us one
As priest had made relation.
Married we straight must be
Altho' we go abegging;
Now, alas! 'tis like to prove
A very hopeless wedding.

Happy he who never knew
What to love belonged,
Maidens wav'ring and untrue
Many a man have wronged.
Fare thee well, faithless girl,
I'll not sorrow for thee;
Once I held thee dear as pearl,
Now I do abhor thee.

// I see our cultures are not all that dissimilar. The lusty tavern wench seems to be fair game for your songwriters as well as ours. // The Sword of Life paused, // Do you have another? //

The pair spent the night playing music and teaching each other songs and building a friendship that would last a long time.

Giles awoke on a bed of needles, much like pine needles, but they had a different texture to them, softer somehow. Raising his head he saw the face of his partner Daa'naal. Glancing around, "I assume that we are dreaming"

"I thought a change from the glade would do us both some good. Look around you Giles, This is, or was, my home." Daa'naal reached down and with surprising strength, pulled the mage to his feet. "Welcome to Toril, Giles."

Upon gaining his feet, Giles looked at the trees and was amazed, he'd never seen a forest like this before, it wasn't so much the size of the trees, or the fullness of the branches. No! It was a sense of the living forest that overwhelmed the Watcher. Each tree seemed to fill a particular place, one that was unique and special. It was only after he has studied the landscape that he noticed that the trees were intertwined, forming protected places in the branches and among the trunks. "Simply amazing," He muttered.

Daa'naal began to walk toward a particular cluster of trees, leaving Giles to catch up the best he could. Giles caught up with the Elf just as he reached his intended destination. Daa'naal gracefully climbed upon an intricate ladder and almost faster then the eye could follow, he was gone.

"Wait a bloody second will you!

The Elf's head appeared in the branches far above him. "What's the matter Giles, Not used to climbing trees?" Daa'naal should have know better, but this was the first time since being thrust into Giles world that he'd taken the time to return to the grove that'd been his home for the first eighty years of his life. His only regret was that this was dreamtime and not a true visit home.

"Well there is rather a lack of one hundred foot trees in the middle of London, so forgive me if I'm not up to your standards."

Daa'naal shook his head. "It's not like you can fall, this is the dreaming. You're safe here; now please hurry up."

Giles closed his eyes and pinched his nose between his fingers. Daa'naal in a good mood all too painfully reminded him of Xander when he was on a roll. Giles raised his head and began climbing. When he reached the level that Daa'naal had jumped off the ladder, Giles was a little winded and a little scared.

"Welcome to my home, Giles. This is where I spent my childhood." The room looked like a very comfortable cabin to Giles. There weren't many fixtures, no running water that he could see and the furnishings were sparse, but of extraordinary quality.

Giles stood there in silence and the tall elf simply walked about the room touching things. "As you can see, my parents weren't well off, well not in the financial way." Daa'naal's voice thickened with emotion, "They did the best they could with what they had, and there was never a lack to attention."

A bow appeared in Daa'naal's hand. The weapon looked familiar to Giles, but he couldn't tell why. "Although my father was a teacher, he loved making bows. Adventurers would come from miles around to buy one. He only made a few each year and they were highly prized. This was my first one." Daa'naal laughed, a very rare event for the stoic elf. "Mother was so upset with him and with good cause."

"What happened?" Giles could scarcely believe his ears, Daa'naal admitting that he might have done something wrong.

"Let me just say that I was a child, with a child's understanding of life. My mother was very attuned to the feelings of nature and my back side suffered when I decided that the large oak down by the stream would make a perfect target for me."

Giles laughed at the image that that statement. "You don't mean that she."

"Tanned my backside so I couldn't sit for a week. Mother had some very hard held beliefs and gods help you if you crossed them."

"Your Mother sounds very much like my Grandmother." The pair stood there, each lost in thoughts of the past. "Daa'naal. Are your parents," Giles searched for the right term, "well, are they still alive?"

"Last I heard they were, why?"

"Well I was thinking, after this mess with the dagger is completed, perhaps we could use the crystal that Mystra gifted us with and you could see them again."

The elf thought about that for a second. "That might be a little tricky. You see I left my parents early in life. I was only about eighty when my cousin took me on as an apprentice. My parents weren't pleased with either of us. But that's a story for another day."

The Sword of Life sat down at the solid oak table that, for as long as he could remember, sat in the middle of the kitchen. The only thing missing was his mother making sweet bread. With a wave of his hand, he invited Giles to join him. A serious look crossed his face. "We need to talk. It's not my place to be critical, but you need to use the tools you've been given."

"I don't understand."

"You are too concerned that the darker side of your mind will take over. That's been keeping you from fulfilling your full potential." Daa'naal leaned towards Giles, their eyes locked on each other. Giles could feel the power that the strong, blue eyes contained. "You know what the dagger is. You've seen it a thousand times, close your eyes, even from the dreamtime you should be able to locate it. The power is there, all you have to do is reach for it."

Giles closed his eyes and began to recite a spell in Elvish. With conscious thought the watcher's hands began moving in the ritualistic manner of a mage casting a spell. A flush of power swept through him and then in an explosion of light the spell cast forth. A picture of the dagger formed in his mind and somehow he knew just where he was going to find it. "Oh Bloody Hell."

When Giles opened his eye's he was amazed at what he'd just done. With the exception of the fireballs that he'd thrown, magic had never been that easy. To all of a sudden make the connection, made perfect sense to Giles. He was also pissed at himself, he should have known all along.

Amanda fled the continent in fear. She had faced some strange things in her long life but a creature that could impersonate her friends; both living and dead with such accuracy that she could not tell the difference, caused a surge of fear that she hadn't experienced in more than a thousand years.

Driving back across the European landscape gave her time to plan. <Now where is the least likely place that the dagger would be and how do I get it there? Better yet,> she thought, <where do I go to avoid the spotlight while this mess cools down.> The ferry trip gave Amanda plenty of time to ponder both questions and, by the time it docked in England, she had a basic idea of what she was going to do. Never one to waste much effort without at least the potential gain, Amanda decided where she would leave the dagger. <Serves him bloody well right for being such an ass.>

The second question was answered as she sat down at a café and ordered her breakfast. The man next to her was reading the London times, when one of the stories caught the immortal's eye. Amanda enjoyed her coffee and waited.

"Well, Detective Stone, I see that you've finally fallen into the gutter like the rest of us." Zeke's eyes opened to find Lucifer standing over his bed dressed in, of all things, a white suit. There was a warm spot in the bed that when Zeke looked down, turned out to be Hazel the desk clerk. Lucifer glared in triumph, "I can't help but wonder what your beloved wife would think. You bedding a child."

"You really don't have a life do you." Zeke stood up, displaying that he was still fully dressed. "Now if you must know, Hazel was here before I got back here last night. Which, by the way, why didn't you tell me about the asshole vampires that are working for Moriarty?

The Devil turned his back on Zeke. "So," he said slowly, drawing the word out. "You've discovered who your opponent is! I was beginning to have my doubts. The answer to your question, Detective Stone, is that I didn't tell you because this is supposed to be a test." The devil leered at Zeke. "And what good is a test if you give all the answers out in advance?"

Zeke unconsciously rubbed the side of his neck where the vampire had taken the fatal taste the night before. In the middle of that, a thought occurred that should have occurred to Zeke long before. He closed his eyes and mentally recapped all of the events that had happened in his short return to earth. A grim smile appeared on his face and he turned back to Lucifer, "Did it ever occur to you that you might be being played yourself?"

"We're all players in the game, Zeke. Sometimes we know it and other times, well," the devil shrugged, "ignorance is bliss. You have very little time left." Lucifer walked out onto Zeke's balcony and in the background he could he hear the big clock chime noon. "You have very little time left. Make the best use of it." He warned his champion. Then without so much as a fanfare or a sound, Lucifer was gone.

Zeke wasn't given any time to wonder about how Lucifer left. The unusual ringing of the British telephone interrupted that thought. "Stone."

"Detective Stone, This is Rupert Giles speaking, I'm afraid that I know where the dagger is. Could I intrude upon you to meet me at the Museum as soon as possible?"

"Right away, Mr. Giles." Zeke hung the phone back on the cradle then went over to the dresser and pulled the Browning from its well-worn holster. He was happy to find that he now had a full magazine again.

As he threaded the holster, Hazel stirred on the bed. "Good morning." She said sleepily. "Was I too stoned last night to remember or did we..."

"You were down for the count when I came in."

The young lady's face fell on that news. "Damn, and here I thought I was being so clever."

Zeke leaned down and kissed Hazel on the forehead. "Darling, if my heart didn't belong to someone else, then we both would be sore this morning." Zeke stood back up and reached for his wallet. Fishing the fresh fifty dollars bill out he offered them to Hazel, "Here take these."

Hazel's face scrunched up in confusion. "But I didn't do anything to earn it," she pouted.

Zeke grinned at his wanna be lover. "You did enough and I don't think I'll be needing it after today."

<Anyone can be a thief,> Thought Amanda as she walked through the double doors of the museum. <You can read that fact everyday on the headlines of any newspaper in the world. 'Diamond watch stolen by 5- year old from Tiffany's. Armored car robbery, three guards slain by successfully thieves,' Ridiculous, No the real test of a thief wasn't the taking. The real test was if you could take something and then put it back in the exact same place without getting caught either time, >Which is what Amanda planned to do with the cursed dagger. To compound things, she was going do it in full daylight, with the museum full of visitors.

There are two keys to a successful theft. The first would seem obvious; make the other guy look somewhere else when you are stealing his stuff. That was simple. Combine a wandering child and a half- melted chocolate shake, stir in rare antiquities, stand back and watch.

The second key was a bit more complicated than the first. You have to cloak yourself in anonymity. So she dressed in clothes that she'd purchased in a second hand store. The guard never even made a mental note about the plain looking blonde that crossed his path only feet away. Thirty seconds later the screech of a mother that just discovered that her child had destroyed something valuable filled the hall, Amanda made her move.

As she neared the exit Amanda paused for a few seconds. She very carefully looked up and the video camera and smiled. <That should confuse the curator nicely. > Amanda hailed one of London's famous black cabs and thirty minutes later she was at Heathrow, waiting on the Concorde.

While she waited, she planned. <The Royal family's Faberge eggs. They have never been outside of the Soviet Union since before the revolution, and in the Met of all places, How interesting. This chance won't come again. >

Giles stood in front of the display case; he was both amused and shocked. The dagger was just where his vision showed him where it would be. What the vision didn't show was the security recording of Amanda standing in front of the camera almost taunting Giles. <Blasted woman.>

Moriarty followed the lanky detective from the hotel back to the museum, carefully keeping out of sight. Stone was the last link to the dagger. It only figured that the only other soul to leave hell would have the same desire, retrieve the Dendoriva Vo'rva and remain in the true world, whatever the price. "So Detective Zeke Stone, I shall let you lead me to it."

Giles was filled with apprehensions as he lowered the case back onto the pedestal. <Are you sure about this?> he asked his partner.

// What better chance to catch Moriarty. So far he has held the initiative in every encounter. This way we bring him to a ground of our choosing rather then react to his moves. I'm sure if you ask Zeke he will agree. //

<Actually I hadn't planned on telling him. I still have my doubts about him.> Giles could feel the disapproval from the Elven mage. <If Detective Stone is on the level then he will never know the difference, if however he has another agenda, well that too shall become very apparent.> When Daa'naal's silence continued. <Ahh,> thought Giles, <You like him.>

// I admire his sense of duty. I'm not sure you can appreciate how strong the temptation he is facing is. Thinks about it Rupert, Everything you've ever known is taken away, a job that you both love and are good at, A wife that loves you almost more than life itself. I'm not sure that I could resist under those conditions. Yet he has done nothing but try to help every step of the way. //

"Mr. Giles, You called." Zeke stood in the doorway of Giles office.

Giles paused for a second, praying that he'd made the right choice. "I did. I'm afraid that there's been a rather strange development in the past few hours. Perhaps you should sit down and watch the video tape."

The sound of shattering glass interrupted the pair. Running out of the office, they looked over to where the case was, Zeke shouted, "That's him. That's Moriarty!" The old man was standing among the remains of the case with the dagger in his right hand.

"Too late Detective Stone. Now I have everything I need." Before Moriarty could finish the ritual by implanting the dagger in his heart, a shot rang out and the dagger went flying from his hand, landing against the far wall.

Giles stood there with one of the Detonics in his hand, thin wisps of smoke, still rising from the barrel. "I don't think so," he said as he charged the minion of evil.

Giles's charge was met by a fierce punch that sent him flying across the room, but it bought Zeke enough time to get close enough to Moriarty who was running towards the wall where the dagger lay. "Don't let him get the dagger," shouted Giles.

With Moriarty's back to him, Zeke had no shot at the eyes, leaving him with no choice but a physical attack. He dove at the professor, driving his to the ground, but Zeke ended off balance and stumbled to the ground as well.

The professor stood above the now helpless detective, his eyes glowing an unearthly green and a look of pure malice aimed at Zeke. "You're time on earth is finished. You've failed. Now go back to hell!" The last word echoed off the walls with a wicked power. Professor Moriarty kicked the defenseless detective, sending him flying through one of the brick walls of the museum.

With both of the men defeated, the elder professor picked up the dagger with his good and hand held it aloft. Then in a sudden motion he thrust the dagger into his own heart, a look of glee on his face. The point of the dagger shattered professor Moriarty's breastbone and sliced his heart in two. Arcs of blue magick shot out in all directions, knocking over displays and starting small fires throughout the museum.

Covered in dust and his face already showing signs of bruising, Zeke crawled out from the rubble of the wall that the professor had thrown him through only to find that the green plasma, that he'd seen the night before, was fighting with the blue colored magick.

Standing in the storm of magicks, Zeke calmly picked up his browning and carefully aimed it at the professor. Then almost without thought he caressed the trigger twice.

The eyeballs of the escaped soul exploded into torrents of green plasma. The hell fire and brimstone of hell was released inside of the museum. The swirls of plasma, and the stench of hell, twisted around the room like a tornado sweeping up the remains of Professor James Moriarty. A crack formed in the floor and the now captured soul was sucked up inside of it and returned him to hell.

When the last bit of Moriarty fled the earthly plain, the Sword of Life, no longer disguised as the dagger, fell to the floor with a solid clang.

When the worst of the damage had been cleaned up and the fire brigade had left, Giles sat in his office wondering how he was going to explain all of the damage to the Museum Directors. The Fire Marshall had bought the story of an electrical fire; with a little assistance from a trust me spell from Giles and Daa'naal. Giles was sure that the board wouldn't be as trusting. <Christ what a mess,> he thought, sitting at his desk with his head in his hand.

"Mr. Giles."

The expression on Zeke's face was serious. Giles was fairly certain that offering him tea wouldn't help much. "Would you like some tea?"

"You lied to me."

"I didn't lie per se."

"Cut that crap. You told me that the dagger had been returned, then let me think that it was still at risk."

Giles shot to his feet angrily, the truthful accusation hitting home. "I had to be sure that you believed that it was the true dagger. That way you'd defend it as if it were. Your actions, while defending the dagger, convinced Moriarty that it was what he thought it was, so you'll excuse me if I don't consider it a lie; just removing a temptation."

"Thereby nullifying the whole test." Lucifer, who appeared out of no where, clapped his hand together slowly. "Congratulations Mr. Giles you've managed to thwart the plans of the almighty, not many mortals can claim to have done that."

Giles squared his shoulders and a look of defiance and anger showed in his face and body. "Your test was to see if Detective Stone would be able to return the escaped soul to hell. He's done that. Weather he resisted the lure of the real temptation or a false image is irrelevant. The fact the he resisted should be enough. So I'm afraid that I can't see your position."

"Nor does She." Said the voice of God, who now made the small office a very crowed place. "Ezekial Stone, in the eyes of god, you have earned your chance to right the wrongs of your previous life, begone from this plane until that chance has arrived and go with gods love."

Giles was suddenly left standing in his office, all by himself!

Dreamtime

Giles had barely closed his eyes, when the fog of night had lifted and he'd found himself back in the glade where he'd first met Daa'naal. His partner was standing next to him with his eyes closed and a look of concentration on his face. "Daa'naal what are we doing here?"

"Shh, I'm calling her."

Elanthielle, dressed in a flowing white robe, stepped from around the boulder that dominated the landscape of the glade. "That would be I, Rupert Giles. Master Mage, what of the cursed dagger?"

"Lady Kine it is back in our possession but I am at a loss as to what should be done with it."

"Excuse me," Giles interrupted, "But I thought that perhaps that we could hide the dagger on Toril. We have the crystal."

That thought amused Elan and her soft laughter filled the glade. "I'm sorry Rupert, but that would be like hiding the keys of a prison in the cell of the worst prisoner. No, the only way to truly hide the dagger is to have it bound to a soul. Finding someone that will not abuse that power is going to be a difficult task."

Daa'naal stood there, a pensive, thoughtful look upon his face. "Lady Kine, I would ask that you trust me. I know of the perfect soul.

"Be damned sure of your choice," the rune weapon said, "for that dagger has the potential for either great good or even worse evil."

"I am sure, for he has already proven himself to us all." Daa'naal looked around the glade, "First I think I'll have to make a few changes."

Phoenix, AZ

The body of Kevin Griffin tossed and turned, tangling the sheets around his arms. The constriction went unfelt as the ex-bomber pilot felt a pulling at his soul that he hadn't felt in many months. When he opened his eyes he saw the broken hulk of his flying fortress, the Leper Colony, lying on its belly, the wings ripped away. It didn't surprise Kevin that he was now dressed in his old flight gear; He'd one again returned to the place of his death and rebirth. Kevin cupped his hands together, "DAA'NAAL," he yelled into the open air of the glade.

"Hello Kevin, It's very good to see you once again."

"What the hell happened to you? One second you were there and the next, well, it felt like you were ripped from my hands. I called and called, but you never answered."

The Forest elf considered just how much he should tell Kevin. "You've always known that you wouldn't be my final bearer, but even I could never have anticipated just how that would come about. The rest as they say is a very long story.

Kevin hopped up on the boulder and sat down on the shelf that was carved in its side. "Good thing that we have plenty of time here. Start at the beginning and don't leave out anything."

Daa'naal smiled at the easy acceptance that Kevin displayed. "In a moment, but first I need to introduce you to some people, "Giles, Elanthielle, would you please step forward."

Kevin stood there shocked. This was the first time that he'd seen anyone else in the dreamtime. Other than he and Daa'naal.

"Don't worry Kevin, these are friends. Rupert is the current bearer and Elanthielle is." Daa'naal was at a loss for words. Telling Kevin that she was a rune weapon would only complicate what was already a tough enough story to tell. Thankfully Elan saved him the trouble.

"Welcome Kevin Griffin, I am pleased to meet you again."

Daa'naal glared daggers at Elan. She simply laughed at his conundrum, leaving him to explain. Before he could get a chance to say a word Elan addressed him. "I think you've chosen well. Warn him of the past, and the dangers he faces in the future." She turned to Giles. "Alexander is well and currently in New York. Though," she smiled, "in a little over his head. Amanda has the most amazing facility for saying or doing the right thing, or from Alexander's point of view, the wrong thing." The rune weapon turned her back and faded into the mists.

<Xander and Amanda together, Oh my, that doesn't sound good at all.> A polite cough interrupted Giles's thoughts. "I'm sorry."

Daa'naal repeated his words. "I asked if you would call the sword. I need it to show Kevin what happened to us."

"Of course," said Giles, still preoccupied with what Elan said.

"Brace yourself Kevin. This will be disturbing and chaotic. HE nodded to Giles who handed the sword to Kevin.

The weight of the sword felt good in Kevin's hands. Then the pull of the memories started to flow over his mind. He saw himself standing on the wing of 'Oh Sherry,' the canopy open and finding a note. Then a flash of a sword and a monster that he'd never seen before, lay at his feet bleeding. Another image, this one of Col. Steve Austin opening a hotel room door with a gun in his hand. The images came faster and faster. The next second he was in the nose of a B-17 in flight. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew that he was blind, and he was seeing the image through the eye's of Daa'naal. Finally he saw and felt his head snap against the Plexiglas of the top turret of the flying fortress. Then the world went black.

The images started repeating themselves. Kevin on the wing Mustang, then landing at Sunnydale. Only this time, instead of the battle to get to Steve's hotel room, there was an image of a store of some kind, a magic store. He remembered the first time he met Elanthielle and Xander, then the most shocking, he saw himself surrendering Daa'naal to Mr. Giles. He lived through the chaotic battle against the creatures that were coming out of the Hellmouth and he felt the despair of Mr. Giles when the final spell failed. Then there was pain, pure unadulterated pain, like waves crashing against the hull of a ship, an ebb and flow that never ceased.

Kevin dropped the sword with a gasp. His chest heaving, as if he'd just run a marathon. He faced Giles. "I'm sorry I wasn't ready to face the dark elf and you had to take my place." The former bearer of the Sword of Life sat there dejected that someone else had done his job.

Daa'naal rested his hand on Kevin's back. "I carry as much blame as you do my friend. I hesitate to ask this, but would you be willing to serve against the darkness again? "Kevin, I do not ask this lightly. Accepting means watching everyone you ever knew grow old and die."

When Kevin nodded his head, Daa'naal explained what needed to be done with the dagger. Daa'naal looked to Giles. //We need to give him some hope. I want to tell him of the immortals.//

<Agreed, but which one. We only know of a few and none of them are nearby. >

// The weapon smith. He has the compassion to understand what Kevin is going to experience, plus they are both warriors under the skin. //

// Then Kevin knows that he not alone. //

"Kevin, in three days time a courier will come to you. They will mention my name and hand you a package. You know what needs to be done. The courier will also mention the name of a man. This man is much more than he seems. He too will walk through the pages of history."

Kevin nodded his head and faded back into the restless sleep.

The Glade changed back to Daa'naal home on Toril, where they both found that they were much more comfortable. "Just who do you trust enough to use as a courier?" Giles's question wasn't an idle one. They had just spent one hell of a time getting the damn thing back, now they had to entrust it to someone to deliver it to America.

"Well the gods have forbidden you from going there. And I certainly can't, so it needs to be someone we trust."

"That much is a given." Daa'naal tone was much to self satisfied for Giles taste. He knew that the elf was up to something.

Well it has to be someone that can defend the dagger if it comes to that and they should be an experienced traveler."

"Oh for Christ's sake, get on with it. Any moron could see that you have someone in mind. Spit it out man."

"Do you believe that Lady Croft would be willing to deliver the dagger?"

Giles paused, "I dislike placing her in the line of danger, and she has her own place in history to fulfill.

Daa'naal didn't give Giles's doubts to grow. "Still, she has the background and should be able to get the dagger into the US. Since you can't deliver the dagger yourself; that strikes me as the best compromise available to us at this point."

Croft Manor

"Let me get this straight, Lara said incredulously, "You want me to deliver a knife to a man so that he can shove it into his own heart, am I hearing you correctly?" Lara had listened to Giles's explanation and she'd been shocked when he'd asked her to deliver the dagger.

"What he does with the dagger is strictly his decision. All we ask is that you convey the importance of no one getting their hand on it. Look Lara, I would ask if it weren't vitally important." Giles hesitated for a minute, his thoughts swirling like a tidal pool. "Lara, This knife in the wrong hands could lead to a horrific future. Even if it were known to exist certain people would give their souls to possess it.

Lara Croft tilted her head away from her Uncle. "That still doesn't explain why it has to be delivered to this Kevin Griffin." Lara sat there waiting, refusing to go any further than that.

Giles's body heaved in a heavy sigh. < She never takes things on face value.> "Very well, the dagger, when implanted in the heart binds the soul to the body, essentially making that person immortal. But what's even more important than that is that it can not be removed unless some very specific conditions are met, and no I will not tell what those conditions are. You will have to simply trust me." The Watcher paused for a few more seconds his forehead wrinkled in thought, "Lara," he began softly, "I cannot overly stress how important this is, Mr. Griffin must make this decision on his own."

"And what if he doesn't. What then?" Lara's concern was evident on her face. "What do I do if he simply says No?" Giles went silent.

Giles eyes met his nieces, "If that should happen, leave the dagger with him. Have him call me if he decides that he cannot serve."

"You're placing a lot of trust in someone you've never met." Lara's voice bordered on defiance.

Giles's shoulders dropped minutely, almost in defeat. "True perhaps, but some that I trust with my life believes in Mr. Griffin and his word is enough for me." Giles's last words sunk in. With her eyes locked on her Uncle she yelled to her butler Hillary, "Hillary I need reservation on the next Concorde with a connecting flight to..." Her eyebrows lifted in a questioning manner.

"Phoenix Arizona," Giles said as he scribbled the full address on a sheet of Lara's stationary. Picking up several more sheets he began writing letters to all involved.

Phoenix Arizona
Kevin Griffin's home

Kevin paced the living room like a predatory cat. Ever since waking from the dreaming he'd been torn. It'd been hard enough when he'd discovered Daa'naal was gone, now he was being asked to pick up the mantle again. He wasn't so sure that was a good idea.

Over the years since the end of the war he'd watched his friends grow old and die. Kevin had attended more funerals than he cared to remember. The fact of the matter was, he was tired, Now, out of the blue, Daa'naal was asking him to fight on, in a different role for sure, but still in the fight. <Damn, he thought, why can't I just be a pilot? That's when I was the happiest.>

	Home

Acquisitions & Retention

Author: Kyle Bernard <csktech[at]yahoo.com>

Summary: A few of the more exotic items in the collection of the British Museum go missing and Giles has to track them down with the help of some very unusual people.

Warning: Crossovers ahead. (Yes Plural.)

Rating: PG-13 to PG-16; for mild cursing, violence, and demonic horror content... in other words a bit more grown up then the series...but only cause I don't have to suck up to censors.

Author's Notes: Based in Tenhawk's Journeyverse this story in meant to compliment his visions. I am not the writer that Ten is and never will be but I count him a friend and thank him for letting me play in his universe and even destroy them once or twice.

Huge thanks to Tenhawk for his help with this and all of my stories. If he didn't let me play in his verse, my life would be less joyful. And as Always to Robert Stevenson, The editor from whom I can never give enough credit to.

London England

Dreamtime

Metro Police Building

Magic box 1 July 2000

O'Connell Estate

Magic box 1 July 2000

O'Connell Estate

Dreamtime

Phoenix, AZ

Croft Manor

Phoenix Arizona Kevin Griffin's home

Home

Magic box
1 July 2000

Magic box
1 July 2000

Phoenix Arizona
Kevin Griffin's home