The gyrating vortex danced through the room, swallowing some objects, tossing others, as it stretched and grew into a funnel. The exhausted group, just returned from their nightly patrol against the local union of demonic evil, stood in awe.

"It just ate your candle thing, Giles," Anya unnecessarily declared.

"Incoming!" Xander warned as the maelstrom spit out the black candlestick, crashing it into the wall next to the front door. Giles' books began to disappear. "Aannnnnd outgoing!"

"Wow. That is like, so cool." Dawn inched closer to inspect the whirling cavalcade of colors and light as it moved from the mantel toward the stairs.

"You! Outside! Now!" her older sister ordered.

"But ..."

"Now!" Buffy screamed again and stomped her foot to emphasize her point.

"Come on, Dawn," Anya urged, leading her toward the door.

"Oh, fine," Dawn acquiesced and stepped outside, maintaining a distant watch on the events through the window.

Keeping the vortex -- now careening toward Willow, Tara and the hallway -- in her peripheral vision, Buffy turned to face her Watcher. "Giles? What is it? Why is it in your living room?" she shouted above the roar.

"I wouldn't venture a guess at this stage, although my resources seem to be its choice target," he replied, gesturing to his overturned, now empty cabinet. "And it's turning, Buffy. Move!" Giles warned as he shoved her in Xander's direction.

Seconds before he disappeared.

*******

"Hello. Talk to me! ... Oh, sorry. Thought you were one of the guys, Buffy. How are you doing? ... What?! ... Okay, give me the details and I'll ask. ... He's on his way. I'll have him call. ... Yes. The minute he gets here. I promise."

Cordelia hung up the phone and gazed around the empty lobby. She expected them back any moment, and true to form, Wesley burst through the door, arguing with Gunn. Angel followed behind, shaking his head in bemusement.

"One simply does not rush an Ornian demon unprepared."

"I had an axe."

"One made of a steel alloy. Only unadulterated iron works on Ornian demons."

"Yeah. I saw his head not fall off his shoulders."

"Well, yes, but --" Wesley paused when Angel grabbed his arm.

"Cordelia. Are you all right?" Angel asked.

She shook her head. "Giles is missing. He got sucked up by a swirly thing of goo and disappeared."

"You had a vision?" Angel asked.

"No," Cordelia answered. "Buffy called. She wants help finding out what it was and where he went."

"Perhaps Angel could drive up there?" Wesley volunteered.

"I promised you'd call her, Wes."

******

Giles was spiraling infinitely downward, drowning in a boundless whirlpool, riding on an unending corkscrew roller coaster. Colors and images flashed before him like subliminal messages advertising his life's milestones. He could have done without the wizard's costume that blinked in front of his eyes -- the last image before blackness engulfed him.

******

The young woman's gaze swept across the beach as they walked down the grassy knoll. Her shoulder-length, mahogany hair blew in the cold, sand-laden wind, reminding her why she tended to pull it back whenever she went out. "Are you sure, Zeyde?"

"Yep," answered a small, white haired man. "Rokhele told me so."

A tall, well-muscled man with spiked kelly-green hair rolled his eyes. "Fair enough, I guess, but she said Bondi?"

"No. Just a beach with a 'B'. That's why I sent the others to Bronte." The man looked up at his younger companion. "I liked the blue better. What color you doing next?"

"And we have no idea what this bloke looks like, right, Shimon?" asked the youngest of the men, his own orange dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail and tucked into his red leather coat.

"No," answered the elderly man. "None at all, Angus. Just that he's British. And quite tall."

"A Brit on Bondi Beach," grumbled Angus. "Thank God it ain't Christmas. "

"Zeyde?" the woman asked. She grabbed her grandfather by the elbow and directed his attention to the Norfolk Pine ahead of them. Under the tree sat a man, dressed inappropriately for the stormy, unusually cold weather, cradling his head in his hands. "Think that's him?"

"Yes. Let's get him to the house."

Shimon sent Angus back to start the car, while the three of them ran down the hill. Slowing down as they neared the giant conifer, the young woman moved ahead and cleared her throat to catch the man's attention.

"Are you Rupert Giles?" she asked. Her emerald eyes searched his face and head for any wounds. She found none. "Are you Rupert Giles?" she repeated.

"I don't know," he rasped. Panic spread across his face as the green-haired man came to tower over him. An elderly man with pale blue eyes knelt down and peered into his face.

"Come," the last person said, standing and stretching out his hand. "I'm Shimon. This is Lilah and Frankie. We've been looking for you. But now we must get you inside. Away from the cold, where you'll be safe."

*** -2- ***

Willow opened the door. "Thanks for coming. We're at a loss. It all happened so fast."

"I understand. I brought what material I could, but I don't know where to start either, I'm afraid," Wesley explained as he entered. "I didn't arrive alone. Angel and Cordelia insisted on coming, as well. They're arranging for accommodation at a motel and will be here shortly. Where's everyone else?"

"Buffy took Dawn home. We're supposed to call if we find something."

"When we find something," Wesley interjected. "We must remain positive, Willow. It appears to be all we have in our favor at the moment."

Willow nodded glumly. "Tara's gone to get some books she has, and Anya and Xander went to see if anything else like this has happened recently."

"Right, then. Perhaps it would be best if you reiterated for me what occurred and what has been done thus far."

Willow sat next to Wesley on the couch, and told him all that she knew.

Which amounted to almost nothing.

******

"How's our mystery man doing? Is he resting?" A tall man in his late twenties with ebony hair took the rain-soaked coats from the other two arrivals and disappeared to hang them to dry in the laundry room.

"Yes, David," Lilah answered, glancing up briefly from her laptop. The Internet connection pinged and buzzed in the background. "He's asleep in Zeyde's room. Angus is watching over him now." She turned to the tawny-haired man now sitting at the table. "Mike, he looks really crook. I think he's suffering from exposure as well as a concussion. He couldn't even remember his name or where he was from. Gornisht."

"Nothing, eh? Well, I'll give him a once over when he wakes up," volunteered Mike. "In the meantime, where's that e-mail Trevor sent, Meg?"

"He's all right?" Lilah asked. "I got worried when I didn't get a note today."

"Here." A woman with ash blonde hair, braided into a thick plait, smiled and handed Lilah a piece of paper. "He's fine. Escaping to Cleveland. Read what he says about his graduate student. I think he might actually kill her soon. Shimon in his scriptorium?"

"Yes," answered Lilah while she read the e-mail. She finished and handed the paper to David. "He's trying to figure out why this man was sent here and by whom. All we know is his name."

"That's all right. As long as he's here, we can keep an eye on him." David put the e-mail on the table and moved behind Lilah to massage (and peer over) her shoulders. "Whatcha doin', love?"

"Zeyde needs more information. So, I thought I'd go on the 'Net and look this fellow up."

He dropped a kiss on her head. "And?"

Lilah shrugged, then suddenly clapped her hands together, as entries appeared on the screen. "Phwoar! Meg, come here! Look, what Google found!" Lilah pointed to the screen. "He worked at the British Museum."

"Cor," Meg said, scanning the list. "Still, I've never heard of him."

"Isn't google what you do when you're sick? My Nana used to always say 'google moogle'," David chuckled and ducked into the kitchen for cover.

"You should know, demon boy," Mike retorted. "You're one mighty sick Yank."

******

"I searched the Internet, Wesley, and found so many disappearances, it was overwhelming."

"But none with vortices?"

"That's just it! I found vortexes, tornadoes, whirlpools, but no explanations. People just vanished."

"Nothing about what happened to them?"

Tears rose again in Willow's eyes. "No one knows. Most of the time they never reappeared."

"Bloody hell."

******

"Good afternoon. I'm Mike Curzon." Mike pulled the recently vacated chair closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Quite pained, actually," Giles groaned. "Where am I?"

"Ah, beautiful, usually sunny Sydney, Australia. You've arrived in dead winter, however." He opened his medical bag and rummaged around in it. "Could you do me a favor and sit up, please? Not to worry, I'm a GP on my good days."

Giles propped himself against the headboard and watched as Mike took his blood pressure. "Sydney? But you're Welsh. How did I get here?"

Stunned, Mike raised an eyebrow and stared briefly at his patient. "Accurate observation and good question. Look at the light, Rupert." He shone the pen light in his eyes, then clicked it off. "Hell of a knock you took. Remember how you did it?"

"No." Giles blinked. "Rupert?"

Mike handed him two Panadeine and a glass of water. "For the pain. Rupert, that's you. Minus the fur, plaid trousers and yellow jumper." At Giles' blank stare, he laughed. "Never mind, just trying to scare your memory back. Do anything?"

"No." Giles swallowed the caplets and drank the water. "How do you know my name? That fellow with the orange hair said I hadn't a wallet."

"Yes, well, er, let's just say, a little angel told us to prepare an extra setting for supper."

"Angel? I think I know someone with that name," he mumbled, his face contorted in confusion.

"It's not her name." Mike explained softly. "It gets stranger around here. I can almost guarantee, you probably have never seen anything like us. So, do you like Monty Python?"

"Sounds familiar."

"Excellent," Mike said, standing up. "Because David and Shimon rented videos: Monty Python, Coppola's Dracula and a couple of German impressionist films. Hell of a choice, and I was hoping you'd sway the vote." He smiled again. "If you're not too poorly, of course."

Shaking his head, Giles gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed. Waiting for the light-headedness to pass, he took a deep breath, then carefully stood up. Nodding to Mike, he slowly followed him out of the room and down the hall to the lounge. Squinting in the lounge's bright, artificial light, he took in the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with their tightly packed contents. He made a quick study of the various ages and languages on the time-worn, predominantly leather bindings.

"Look who felt like eating," Mike announced, shaking his head to signal the lack of memory.

"Well, Rupert. Do you remember me?" Shimon rose and pulled out a chair for his guest.

Giles looked at the unfamiliar faces gathered around the dining table and pushed back the edges of a headache. "Shimon, I believe. You're Polish? Jewish," he said as he sat down in the proffered chair. Shimon nodded.

"Spot on. He's scary about that," Mike warned. "I was about to ask him what city but thought not to task him overmuch. This is --"

"Lilah," Giles said, returning her gentle smile. "You spoke to me first. Before someone with green hair."

"Oy, Frankie," Shimon acknowledged. "He's much nicer than he looks. Although, he does look friendly with purple hair. Like that dinosaur thing."

Mike clucked. "Ignore Shimon when he pretends he's crazy. But this chap," he gestured toward David, "David Kaganovsky, is definitely off-center. His most redeemable quality is that he's Lilah's boyfriend. And this is my fiancée, Meg Burford. And you're Rupert Giles."

"I've heard your name before," Giles said suddenly, glancing up to meet David's startling sapphire blue eyes. "But I don't know why."

David stared at him, then smiled. "Probably just articles. Nothing earth-shattering, I'm sure."

"Oh, by the way," Mike interrupted. "You two are outvoted. Monty Python it is. Doctor's orders."

"Oh, thank God," Meg mumbled.

"Damn," David grunted. "I wanted to see Winona!"

"Do you remember anything about yourself?" Lilah asked, placing a bowl of soup in front of Giles.

"No. Well, yes, but I'm not certain what it means."

"Perhaps you should tell us, and we can help figure it out?" Mike suggested.

Giles frowned. "I saw myself, I believe. I was wearing a purple and gold wizard's costume, with a tall, conical hat."

The group looked at each other, stunned. "Oh-kay. Still in shock," Mike explained, then whispered to Meg, "At least, shit, I hope so."

******

David tossed fitfully in his sleep. Finally rousing himself from his slumber, he opened his eyes, desperate to see what was causing the infernal commotion. Still in bed, but no longer in the house, he noticed the young, empyreal brunette who beckoned him from across the pounding surf. Walking to the edge of a precipice, he reached over the waters and took her childish hand in his.

"Why not Shimon, Rokhele?" David asked as he joined her. Rokhele yawned. "Oh. Here?" She nodded and showed him a living room filled with faceless people, most of them younger than David. She observed him as he watched the intimate crowd, then tugged on his sleeve. He glanced down to see her frantically pointing at a petite blonde. Even though he could not see her features clearly, David could tell from her bearing that she was trying to remain calm and in control, but was actually on the verge of tears.

"Where are we?" David asked. Rokhele shrugged and disappeared.

"Damned cryptic messages," he groaned and spooned himself against Lilah.

"What's wrong?" she asked sleepily.

"Your great-aunt woke me up," he complained. "Sometimes she really bugs me."

"Go back to sleep."

"Ohhhh," he whined, brushing her hair aside and planting a line of kisses along her neck. "But now I'm up and rarin' to go!"

"Yeah," she chortled. "I can tell."

******

Angel followed her into the kitchen. "Buffy?"

"We ran out of tea. Giles always has extra tea, and I can't find any."

"Why don't you go upstairs and sleep for a while?"

Buffy continued to search frantically, opening and slamming the cupboard doors. "What if we don't find him? You know, after graduation, we all sort of drifted apart. And then, when Dracula was here, he was ... Willow let it slip that he was planning on going home. Did you know?" She turned and finally faced him. Angel shook his head. "No, of course not. I didn't either, except one night it just came out of her mouth. She made me promise not to tell him."

"Buffy, leave the tea. I'll go and get some more." Angel closed the cupboards. He turned her to face him again. "No one likes this feeling of helplessness, but everyone is doing all they can."

"Is it going to be enough, though?" she asked.

"I hope so," he said, pulling her into a comforting embrace. "We all do."

*** -3- ***

"Good morning. Birds are bloody noisy in this country, eh, Rupert?" Mike said, smiling.

"Yes, and I think it's usually Giles."

"Okay. Brill." Mike went into the kitchen. "Tea?"

"Yes, please. This is an amazing book collection. What does Shimon do?"

"I have no idea, really. He's retired and writes religious material. You know, calligraphy, wedding certificates and what not." Mike watched as Giles examined more closely the yellowed pages of one of the older books. "He's proficient in quite a number of languages."

"Yes," Giles agreed, thumbing reverently through the book. "This is a very rare reprint of Cordovero's sixteenth century work. Quite fascinating, actually." He stopped and looked at Mike. "I have no idea why."

"S'okay. Me, either, but David might. Tea's ready." Mike took the pot to the table and returned for cups. Giles sat down, obviously distressed. "What's wrong?" Mike asked.

"I have people waiting for me."

"Children? Wife?"

"I don't think so. But they will be very upset."

"Where?"

"California," David said. "Morning, Rupert."

"Giles. California?" David nodded and shoved grapes into his mouth. "How can you be sure?" Giles asked.

"Caffeine first, clarity later," David joked as he prepared the carafe. "How are you, by the way? Giles."

"Still hellishly confused."

David snorted. "Welcome to my world." He looked to Mike for permission. "Doctor says it's okay to tell you. Shimon's sister showed me big palm trees, so I guessed."

"Have I met her?" Giles raised the teacup to his mouth.

"Doubt it," David said. He smirked mischievously when Mike moved his chair back in anticipation of Giles' reaction. "She died before you were born."

Giles sprayed tea across the table. "I beg your pardon?"

"I told you," Mike laughed. "We're a weird lot, but David is the worst." David laughed mockingly, then flipped him his middle finger.

"You said yesterday, an angel," Giles reminded him. He took the tea towel from David's outstretched hand and wiped the table. "She's who you meant?"

"Yes," Shimon announced, patting Giles on the shoulder as he passed. "Good morning. Where's the coffee?" David held up the carafe. "Lilah and Meg still asleep?"

"Meg is," Mike answered. "Lilah's in the shower. I can hear the water running."

"Good. In the meantime, we need to let Rupert in on the rules of the house," Shimon said bluntly. "No one goes anywhere, stays anywhere alone. Someone must be with you, in the area, at all times."

Giles stared at the men. David continued while Shimon drank his coffee. "Shimon's sister is just the top of the barrel. We're involved in a, ah, little dispute with some demons." He searched Giles' face for a response. "Nasty, ferocious buggers. And this is not fazing you, is it?"

"No. I'm fine now," Giles answered, adding milk to his refilled teacup. "What kind of demons?"

"This is not bothering him, Shimon," David exclaimed. "He's bloody accepting it, like I said cockroaches! Rokhele got us a shower of tea, and this does diddley-squat!" David looked at him again, then jumped up from the table and began to pace nervously. "Demons. You name it, I think between Shimon and me, we've seen it. Some are on our side. But two of them --"

"More than two, David," Shimon corrected, passing the fruit bowl to Giles.

"No," Giles interrupted, taking a pear. "I meant what kind? Vampires, Eliminati, vengeance, what?"

"Yes to all," Shimon answered, non-chalantly peeling an orange, but storing Giles' familiarity with demon-kind away for future reference. "But the upper echelon want David personally. He is their primary reason for walking among us right now."

"That does make for a sticky wicket," Giles remarked. He calmly finished his pear. David plopped down in a chair and stared at him, sapphire eyes wide with disbelief.

Mike burst into laughter, half from Giles' composed reaction, half from David's surprise. "Hey, Shimon, Giles recognized one of your books. Some Cordy bloke."

"Cordelia," Giles whispered, almost remembering.

"No, something else --" Mike started, but David nudged him to be quiet.

"Cordovero, but I think you just recalled something or someone?" Shimon asked.

Giles pursed his lips then nodded. "Cordelia. Just a name, but somehow it feels ... familiar."

******

"Nothing yet?" Cordelia closed the box of donuts.

"There was no spell-casting involved, as far as Willow can tell," Wesley said, reaching for the teapot. "She's still quite shocked, however. I believe that not getting results quickly, like with Giles, is depressing her spirit."

"You're doing your best, Wesley. So, what's Angel up to?"

"Trying to keep her calm and focused. They're going through Giles' books. She said the vortex consumed some."

"The Wizard of Oz?" Cordelia watched as Wesley shook his head forlornly. "You have still no idea, do you?"

"No," he admitted. "Can you go back --"

"Soon as I finish my donut, I'm surfer girl."

"Thank you, Cordelia."

"Sure thing."

*** -4- ***

Lilah stopped in the lounge on her way upstairs to her computer. "Anyone want to pass something on to Trev? We have outgoing."

From the couch, where he was engrossed in a German tome on early Christian mysticism, Giles' head snapped up. Shimon caught the movement in the corner of his eye and monitored his reaction.

"Sure, Lilah," David said. "Tell him, 'touch my sis and die, you evil overlord!'" David turned to an open-mouthed Meg. "What?!"

"You set Trevor up!" Meg screamed. "With your sister!"

"D'uuhhhh! Geez, how quick on the mark are you, Missus Mike?"

"Xander," Giles mumbled, while Meg and David argued. Shimon gestured to Mike.

Mike swatted David on the back of the head as he joined them in the lounge. "Who's Xander, Giles?"

"He said 'outgoing' before I left." Giles stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No. Not left, was sucked into something."

David sat on the coffee table. "Why outgoing? Did he see you leave?"

"No. Something came flying out. Of... a whirlpool... no, a vortex." Excited at the breakthrough, Giles looked over at Shimon. "My candlestick! It sucked up a wrought iron candlestick and then spit it out." His countenance fell. "It ate my books."

"He sounds like Trev and his bloody books," Mike laughed. "Anything else?"

"I think his girlfriend works for me, but I'm not certain."

"Is she blonde?" David asked suddenly.

"Shopping for a new model, David?" Meg suggested and then giggled. "Oh, wait. You've had a blonde or two. That leaves ... bald!"

Shimon rolled his eyes in disgust. "Children. You'd think they were still teenagers."

"Teenagers aren't so bad once you get to know them," Giles remarked. "They can become devoted friends."

"Hmmm. Perhaps you know, Rupert?"

******

"Hey, Buff."

"Xander. How did you know where I'd be?"

Xander joined Buffy on the swing set. "Angel suggested it. He would have come himself, but Wesley found something in a Latin book, so they're cross-checking it with another dead language."

"Helpful?"

"Wes seems to think so. He broke into a smile and whooped."

Leaning her head against the chains, Buffy chuckled. "Whooped? Wesley?"

"Yeah, woke Cordy up. Should've heard her give him the riot act." At Buffy's smile, he continued. "Angel asked what she'd done to her hair, and she really went ballistic. An inside joke, I guess, but then she calmed down."

"So, what did he find?"

"A way to bring the vortex back."

******

They were gathered around the table, enjoying the Indian meal Meg and Mike had prepared. "So, what's it like in California? Been to Hollywood?" Shimon asked. "I want to go to Hollywood. And Lake Tahoe to see some snow." He passed the chutney to Giles. "I miss snow."

"Thank you," he replied. "I remember it snowed once. Not sure why that's unusual."

"Unusual?" David repeated. They all watched as Lilah left the table and dashed upstairs.

"Do you know what you're doing in California, Giles?" Meg asked. "How you got there? I mean, you used to work in the British Museum. Now you own a store, you think."

"I did? I recall a library. Wait, I believe I was called to consult on an artifact once. Ever so sorry. Nothing more than vague recollections of people and useless information."

"S'okay," Mike said comfortingly. "Hasn't been useless to us."

Giles sprang out of the chair and began to pace the dining room in frustration. "No, it's not okay. I'm not supposed to be here, Mike. I'm supposed to be watching. But I cannot recall what or whom."

"Watching whom," Shimon repeated. "Funny, you're kind of young to be one of them."

"Pardon?"

"Watchers are Angels from the Books of Enoch and Daniel. But you haven't any wings or halo," Shimon joked.

Giles spun around and snapped his fingers. "WATCHER! I'm a Watcher! That's what I do! That's my title!"

"LILAH!" Shimon yelled as he got up from the table and walked down the hall to his writing room.

"Buffy!"

"A buffy watcher?" Mike asked. "You watch people naked? Now, I truly am worried about you."

"LILAH!" Shimon yelled again, before he disappeared into the small room.

"I heard you, Zeyde. Sunnydale," she said as she jogged down the stairs. "Although it appears he has a silent number, Giles is probably from Sunnydale, California. They had a freak snowstorm a couple of Christmases ago. I remembered because Zeyde and I laughed about it. And there's a store there called 'The Magic Box', which is probably why you remember the costume. Opening day, perhaps."

"Yes! I own that store now!" Giles exclaimed smiling. His relief was short-lived. "That wizard was me. Oh, dear God."

Shimon came out of the room carrying a thick, black leather-bound book. He lay it on the table. Flipping through the pages, he found the chapter he was searching for and turned the book toward Giles.

"Vampire Slayer mean anything to you?"

"Buffy's the Vampire Slayer. I'm her Watcher. I remember everything now."

"I'll bet she's a petite blonde," David sniggered. Giles nodded. "Only in California, folks."

"Okay, someone remind David about his demonic ex-lover and her eternal partner, who are hell-bent on terrorizing us all. And how we were only in California for two hours."

"Thanks, Mike. Count on you to bring her up again." Mike grinned and gave David the thumbs up.

Giles chuckled at their continuous, friendly harassment. "But now I need to get home. Traditional means are out, unless someone can think of an explanation for the authorities as to how I got here."

"Pecos Bill?" David suggested. "Hey! Doesn't Rupert the Bear have a flying couch?"

"No, silly," Meg remarked. "That's his friend, the Panda."

"Oh. Okay." David turned to her. "Hang on. I have an excuse, nieces and all. What's yours?"

*** -5- ***

"Right. So, this is it?" Giles asked, looking over the cliffs' edge at the crashing surf.

"Looks like it," Mike said, pointing straight ahead. "There's your special order vortex now."

"Are you ever going to tell me how you arranged this?"

"Ah, no. Then I'd have to kill you, and yes, I'm kidding," David answered. "Tell you what, though. If you don't call us and let us know you arrived safely, I will send a vengeance demon after you. Nasty bastard owes me a favor. I saved him from getting a drastic circumcision."

"Okay, genius, and what if Giles gets amnesia again?" Meg asked.

"Already taken care of," David assured them. Turning to Giles, he added, "And I have sentinels in place, so don't think of forgetting, Home Counties man. Oh, you don't have a cat, do you?"

"Heads up!" Mike shouted when the maelstrom neared Mermaid Rocks.

"No, why?" Giles asked above the noise.

"Never mind. Safe journey, Rupert!" David yelled as he pushed Giles over the cliff.

"We should have gotten him ruby slippers," Meg remarked.

"You're confused, Missus Mike. Those were in the movie," David explained, as they walked back to Bondi Beach. "Dorothy wore the Silver Shoes that take you wherever you want to go, but the stupid girl lost them in the desert." He stopped and returned their stares. "What?!"

******

"Hello, Ang--, I mean, Giles residence ... No, I'm sorry. He isn't here right now. ... Yes, I'll take a message. ... Urgent? Okay. ... Got it. Thanks."

"Who was that?" Willow asked from her seat on the floor by the coffee table.

"Oh, some British Professor Whatever asking Giles to call Australia when he gets home." Cordelia sat back down next to Angel. "I almost said 'Angel Investigations.' I hate when I do that."

Wesley returned his attention to the group seated around Giles' living room. "We've placed the three orbs in the front courtyard, according to the calculations Willow and I worked out, -- " He stopped, distracted by a turmoil outside.

"Man, listen to those cats fight!" Xander commented.

"They're not cats," Anya noted. "At least one of them is a demon. And if it's the one I think it is, don't break it up. She's a real bitch and will claw your eyes out."

"No," Wesley raised his voice over the increasing din of the wind. "Listen. In the courtyard."

All heads turned toward the opening door.

"Giles!" Buffy screamed and ran to him, pulling him into a fierce embrace.

Giles, when he got his breath back, warmly returned the hug. Looking at the faces gathered in his living room, he smiled. "This is going to sound rather trite, but 'I'm so glad to be at home again.'"

"Dibs on the Scarecrow!" yelled Xander.