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Sunnydale High, Library, same time.
'Okay, this is bad,' Xander said, rubbing the top of his scalp. 'A Slayer-slayer, sort of thing?'
'Not exactly,' Giles replied, 'but similar. Whenever the Slayer and the Executioner have clashed troughout the ages, the, er, Executioner came out on top, as it were.'
'Thereīs a nice picture,' Xander muttered into the palm of his hand.
'So, why exactly did the Slayer get together for this clashing?' Willow asked timidly. 'I mean, heīs not a vampire.'
'Dig it, Will,' Buffy said. 'Big bad demon guy comes to town and offs people without reason. Slayer is also in town. Slayer good. Demon bad. Slayer wants to sock it to the demon so he donīt kill no more.'
'And demon stomps on Slayer,' Xander said. 'Time and time again. Who else can say theyīve done that, Giles?'
'Not many,' the Watcher replied, rubbing his forehead. 'And none in this... this particular manner.'
'What manner are we talking about here?' Buffy asked.
'The sword,' Giles said. His face registered disgust for a moment, then he turned away and started pacing the floor. 'More specifically a sword, which has accumulated quite a reputation. Mystics and witches and so forth have been having visions about it for generations.'
'Why?' Xander asked. 'I mean, why not just get a sword from your neighbourhood blacksmith or what have you? Whatīs the big problem? According to the history books, the things just rust in the end, or they get hit too hard and they break.'
'Not this sword. It is known as the Sword of Judgment, and it is at least as old as the Executioner himself. Some of the less tractable rumors indicate that he brought it with him from... wherever he came from,' Giles replied.
'In all the time that he has wielded it, it has never displayed any sign of metal fatigue, proneness to oxydation or similar. And no magical defense can withstand its blade, as some of the most powerful evil beings of this world have noticed...'
'Wait a minute, here,' Xander interrupted. 'Some of the most powerful evil beings, right? So, if theyīre evil, and heīs evil...'
'As said, the killings are random,' Giles said. 'The Executioner comes forth from whatever hole heīs hiding in, and bodies start to fall. Itīs really that simple. And now heīs here.'
'I havenīt heard about anyone being cut up,' Xander said. 'How about you, Willow?'
'I can check the Internet,' Willow replied, with a slight catch in her voice.
'What is it?' Buffy asked, leaning over. 'You were gonna say something, and then you didnīt.'
'The only weird stuff thatīs happened here, and I mean weirder than usual, is Cassiel coming forth from England,' Willow replied timidly. 'And he beat up on those vampires, like you told us, Buffy. And, if beating up on guys who wanna... yuck... suck on you isnīt random...'
'Good point,' Giles said.
'So weīre back to English dude?' Xander asked sarcastically. 'Come on, he drank the goop, he did the walk to church, he stood here and just about laughed at us for calling him a demon. What else can we do?'
'Tie him to a tree and apply brands of fire?' the Watcher offered. When he registered the looks, he quickly, defensively spoke: 'Itīs a tried method for exposing the firecest of lying fiends. But of course itīs not very politically correct nowadays.'
'Okay, we do your thing, Giles,' Buffy said decisively.
'I was actually trying to lift the mood with a joke,' Giles said, slightly horrified. 'I wouldnīt really want you to tie someone to a tree and...'
'I mean we watch, Giles,' the Slayer gently interrupted him. 'We watch and we wait. Letīs just hope nobody gets cut up while we wait. If my dreams say that this weirdo from who-knows is here, and the books got him sassed, then we just have to wait until he acts and get him.'
'Perhaps, in this case, it might be better not to,' Giles said. 'You remember? The Executioner has killed quite a lot of Slayers, some of them extremely powerful.'
'Yeah, well,' Buffy said. 'Well. He. Um. He, uh, heīs never killed me before, and thatīs a fact. Right, guys?'
'Definitely,' Willow agreed, her face solemn. 'You said it,' Xander heartily replied. 'Whaddaya say we hit the caf and see if we can score some chocolate bars?'
'Itīs a plan,' Buffy replied, getting up. 'Donīt worry, Giles. Or if you have to worry, try if you can find something else about our friendly demonic ax-murderer in the books. The stuff you came up with so far is patchwork.'
'Yes, well,' Giles huffed as the three teenagers walked past him. 'You didnīt exactly give me a warning in advance!' he called out after them, just as the door swung shut. 'Really,' he muttered.
Sunydale, somewhere. A small, murky room, possibly an attic or a cellar:
A black-robed figure sat in the middle of a circle of burning sand. In its lap, it held a sword, and it was singing in a cold, deathly voice:
'Vengeance shall befall the foul. Vengeance shall befall the foul. Vengeance shall befall the foul. By my duty, so shall this be...'
Sunnydale High, front entrance, end of school:
'Ah, another beautiful sunny day in beautiful sunny Sunnydale,' Xander said as the Slayerettes and Slayer left the building. 'Where the Hellmouth are my sunglasses, huh?'
'In your coat pocket,' Willow replied, 'in your room. You always forget to bring it.'
'Wrong, Willow-girl,' Xander said triumphantly, and wipped the object in question out of his pocket. 'What do you ladies have to say to that? I shall no more be blinded by the harsh glare of...'
Cordelia slammed into Xander with an irritated: 'Move it, oaf!' and stormed down the stairs, her entourage in tow. 'Some people! Just because they donīt have a life, they think they can stand in the way of people that actually have somewhere to go?!'
'Where did my glasses go?' Xander snarled. 'That ditzoid made me drop īem!'
'I think they went flying off into the bushes,' Buffy said. 'Help you look?'
'Naw, I can handle it,' Xander said, and started down the stairs with a dejected look. 'Every damn time I bring in those things, I...'
The sound of someone being very sick came from the bushes. 'Whoa!' Xander muttered. 'Better steer clear... somebody had a little too much beer. On the other hand, he may be bringing it back up over my glasses. Better just take a peek...'
Qietly, he pushed the branches aside. Just as quietly, he let them slide back and crept back up the stairs.
'Donīt say anything,' he whispered into Buffyīs ear. 'Just come take a look.'
'What?' Buffy asked.
'Just come on!' Xander hissed, tugging on her arm.
'Can you possibly just tell me?' Buffy asked with a sigh.
'Yeah, Cassiel Lackīs spitting up blood in the bushes,' Xander said out loud.
Sunnydale High, Library, 20:00 :
'So, perhaps he has an ulcer, or he bit his tongue,' Giles said. 'This by no means proves that Cassiel is the Executioner. It may simply be a physical condition.'
'Try this for a physical condition,' Xander snapped. 'He was spitting up blood one moment, and when Iīd finally gotten Buffy to take a look, he was gone. And there wasnīt any blood, either. Just some really tall grass.'
'Itīs hardly damning evidence,' Giles sighed. 'Whereīs Buffy? I wouldnīt think sheīd let slip such a fine chance to prove her paranoia correct.'
'She doesnīt need any approval to be paranoid,' Xander said smugly. 'Sheīs been trailing Cas since sundown.'
'What about her rounds?' Giles exclaimed. 'Whoīs going to be doing those, may I ask? We have no evidence whatsoever that...'
'Rounds and spying go together,' Xander said, suddenly serious. 'You donīt know where Cassiel Lack has chosen to hang his hat, do you?'
Sunnydale Public Cemetery, 20:10 :
A thin fog hugged the cemeteryīs mossy ground. Overhead, the moon hung, casting its pale, corpselike light upon the small, cheaply made stones of beggars, drifters and others who had died without name, without fortune to pay for their own burial.
Each stone bore one date - the lucky ones, two. Here and there stood an angel of plaster or cement, even rarer were the crosses of the same materials.
And the lonely, silent figure in the center of the grounds, the one shrouded in black, was unique.
'Nice night for a walk, isnīt it?'