Spike was killing time, skulking around the alleyway across from the Magic Box. He wished a vamp or a demon or some sort of threat would pop up and give him something to focus on, because the waiting was driving him nuts.

'Brilliant, Spike. Wait till Buffy comes back from patrol, jump out of the alley and… dazzle her with your stalking skills. Bloody fabulous.'

Settling back against the wall, he rehearsed in his head the conversation he wanted to have with the woman who had captured his undead heart. He was so immersed in thought that he almost missed the faint scraping sound. He looked up to see a dark figure on one knee before the door to Giles' shop. The man popped the door, glanced around, and then silently slipped in.

A chilling smile came to his lips. The evening just might get interesting after all. Spike set off across the street.

***

Jarod closed the door behind him carefully, mindful of the bell. Pulling out his flashlight, he gave the store a quick once over, checking for hidden security systems or other anti-burglar devices. There didn't appear to be any. Not very wise of the owner. Of course, they might have some sort of magical protection in place. He grinned at the thought. Obviously not, since he hadn't turned into a frog.

Making his way quickly across the interior, he came back to stand in front of the bookshelf he'd been exploring earlier that day. He drew his light across it, searching for the tome the proprietor had kept from him earlier.

Rupert Giles. He'd done a little research on the man while waiting for night to fall, and all it had done was raise more questions, more mysteries. On first glance, the man appeared simply to be an English citizen who was working in the US on an extended visa. As the pretender had dug a little deeper, he'd found there was more to the shopkeeper than met the eye. Giles seemed to have connections with some powerful and shadowy people, and was linked with a very old organization in Europe known as the Watchers. Information on them was sketchy and the group was shrouded in mysticism, but Jarod had the feeling it was significant to whatever was going on.

While investigating Giles, Jarod had also collected a little background information on Sunnydale. What he'd found disturbed him. The town had had more unexplained murders, disappearances and violent crimes per capita than any other place in the country, save perhaps New York or LA. The curious thing was the amazing lack of awareness. It was almost as if the people who lived in the town were behind a curtain of self-imposed denial. He was itching to get to the bottom of it.

After a thorough search of the bookshelf yielded nothing, he checked the books still laying on the round table. No luck there. Methodically, he began to search every shelf. At the end of the room, he discovered a steep ladder staircase. Flashlight in his teeth, he climbed up. At the top he smiled. Pay dirt.

There on the bottom of the shelf was the book he sought. As he stepped over and picked it up, his flashlight caught something shiny. There was a glint flashing off another book beneath. Curious, he took a closer look. The second thick volume was quite old, the leather cracked with age and the pages obviously frayed - however, it sported a new metal lock. He picked it up, and a chill ran through him as he glanced at the title. "Darkest Magiks". He quickly replaced it, grabbed the one he'd come for and made his way back down.

He was halfway across the room when a flame leaped to life in the darkness. He froze. In the glow, Jarod could see a man's face as he lit a cigarette. He stood a few feet from the pretender, leaning back against the edge of the table as he snapped the lighter shut. He ran a quick scenario in his head. He out massed the figure before him by at least 60 pounds, and had a good 4 inches on him. Jarod decided that he could likely escape the smaller man without having to resort to violence. Like a shot, he ran for the door.

Impossibly, the man was in front of him.

"Going somewhere, mate?" the other grinned at him, a dangerous sort of glint in his eye.

"Yeah. Through you if I have to." Jarod faked left then broke right, trying to get past him. Once again, displaying inhuman speed and agility, his nemesis blocked his way.

His opponent reached out and flicked on the lights, temporarily blinding him. He backpedaled, trying to put some space between them, but with unbelievable speed he found a chair being shoved into the back of his legs. He sat down hard.

"I don't think so," the man replied, a cocky lilt in his voice.

Jarod looked up to see a crossbow slung casually over the man's shoulder. He couldn't stop the small groan that escaped as he closed his eyes for a moment. This was *not* going according to the sim.


****

"I was so good tonight," crowed Xander proudly. "Did you see me? I took out five of 'em by myself. Coun't em, one, two, three, four, five!"

"You did a great job, honey," Anya agreed, her hand entwined with his. "You were so manly and heroic."

Giles and Buffy shared a look.

"Hey, thanks for coming along, guys," Buffy piped up as they made their way back to the shop, "It hasn't been this busy in a long time. I wonder what's up with that."

"Maybe there's a vampire convention in town," Xander offered. "Kinda like a comic book convention, except less with the comics and more with the sucking of blood."

Giles cocked an eyebrow at the young man. Xander just gave him a little half grin and a half shrug.

"I must admit it does have me concerned. There has been a steady increase in Vampiric activity for the last few weeks. A larger number of demons than usual as well. This is quite significant." They all spent a moment considering the implications.

"Do you think it's the prophecy?" Buffy asked.

Giles nodded. "All my experience tells me that's what is happening. It also tells me we're running out of time. We need to figure out what the Convergence will be, what it will look like - we can't fight it if we don't know what it is."

"But Giles, according to the prophecy, I don't face this thing alone. If we can't find The Chosen, do we even have a chance?"

The Watcher gave a small snort. "Isn't that the difficulty with the 'Man of Many Faces'? How on earth do we manage to recognize him?"

The walked the rest of the way to the store in silence, each to their own thoughts until Anya broke the reverie.

"Hey! Someone's in the store. Oh my god... the money!"

Anya bolted forward, the rest of them hot on her heels. She pushed on the door and it flew open with a crash. Taking a few steps into the shop, she looked around wildly while the others poured in behind her.

"Nice of you to finally show up," came a familiar English accent from the lower part of the store.

Weapons in hand, the four of them walked across the store to find Spike sitting cross-legged on the table. A cigarette was hanging out of his mouth and he held a cross bow in his lap. The red leather book containing the prophecy lay open on the table before him. Most surprising, the same tall dark haired man who had been asking questions earlier in the day was sitting on a chair in front of him.

"What the hell?" Buffy blurted. She walked up to the intruder, stake in hand. "What part of 'leave' are you having a problem understanding?" she demanded.

"I never was very good at following orders." The man in the chair eyed her warily, then turned to Giles. "Look, I simply need some information. That's all. I promise I'll leave afterwards. I just need to see what the book says."

"The only place you're going right now is the city jail," Giles informed him. "I'm calling the police."

Spike began to read from the book he'd pulled onto his lap. "…the Centre shall rise… Hellmouth… then the Chosen and the Slayer…hmmm… for only together will the Man of Many Faces and the Keeper of the Key find Victory." He looked up at Buffy. "Sounds like you, pet. But who's this 'Man of Many Faces' bloke?"

Giles grabbed the tome from the blond vampire and snapped it shut with a withering look. "Does the word *confidential* mean anything to you?"

"Touchy," groused the vampire as he reached in his pocket and fished out his Marlboroughs. He snapped his Zippo open to light one up when a stern look from the Watcher convinced him that it was a bad idea. He slid off the table to go outside for a cigarette. "Try to do a friend a favour, and all I get is grief…" Spike trailed off and came to a halt as his gaze stopped on their intruder. The man's eyes were wide with shock. "What?" he asked belligerently.

The darker man's eyes were wide with shock. "What you just read… what does that mean?"

Spike shrugged.

"'The Man of Many Faces' is the Chosen, helper of the Slayer," Anya supplied helpfully. "He is supposed to help her fight evil-"

"Guys!" Buffy interjected forcefully, a pained look on her face. "Can we please not tell the bad guy all the trade secrets?"

"Oh! Sorry," came Anya's abashed reply.

Giles was again reaching for the phone when the man spoke up again. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, or why you're trying to hide this information from me. I just want to know the truth behind the prophecy. Why won't you help me?" His voice held anger and not a little desperation.

The Watcher stopped and fixed him with a stare. "People that I know were recently murdered over this information. Just before that happened, there were some people asking a lot of questions. I'd rather not see a repeat of such events here."

"You think that I…?" Their captive jumped to his feet "I'm not a murderer!"

Xander snatched the discarded crossbow from the table and trained it on him in one quick, practiced motion. "I'd advise you to take your seat."

He complied, his face a mask of anger and contempt. "If you want the ones who are responsible, go the Centre. Mr. Parker. Of course you might have trouble tracking him down since he took a swan dive over the Atlantic Ocean at 30,000 feet with the scrolls."

"Wh-what?" Giles was caught off guard.

The captive looked at him for a moment, and then closed his eyes. He seemed to be meditating, but it was obvious there was something going on - it almost looked like he was having a dream, except for the fact that he was awake. A moment later, he opened his eyes, looking resigned.

"I'm not here to hurt anyone," he began quietly. "I'm just trying to find out the truth. About the past. About the future. About the scrolls, and the prophecies. About how I do or don't fit into them. I think some of the answers might be in that book."

"You'll pardon us if we don't trust you a whole lot," remarked Buffy.

"Someone has to make the first step," he admitted. "And I'm willing to be the one to do it."

"That sounds like a good idea seeing that you're the one who B&E'd the place," she replied. "So, go ahead, crime-boy. Impress us with your trustworthiness."

"Perhaps I should begin at the beginning…"






They sat around the table and listened to the incredible story. Jarod had outlined a brief history of the Centre and given an abridged account of his life and training while in captivity there. He told them of his escape and then touched briefly on his subsequent pretends.

They grilled him mercilessly on the details, looking for lies and discrepancies. He watched their skepticism and incredulity give way to amazement and belief as they accepted he was indeed telling the truth.

He detailed the events on the island, explaining that he and Miss Parker had been searching for the scrolls. Finally, he told them what the chairman had uttered right before he'd jumped from the aircraft with them clutched in his arms.

"Now you can understand why I was looking for information. Our mothers - Miss Parker's and mine - believed that they were very important."

"So, the scrolls are truly lost," murmured Giles pensively. "Along with the secrets they contained."

"As far as I know. We were over open water when he jumped." The pretender sighed. "I searched for my past for years - I never thought much about my future other than finding my family and staying free of the Centre. I'm really not sure what I think about prophecies, whether they are real or not; all I know is that too many strange things have happened for me to just brush it all off."

Buffy looked at Giles, who nodded. She walked over and retrieved the leather book from the shelf where he'd left it. Turning it to the correct page, she indicated the passage to Jarod and let him read the prophecy.

His breath caught in his throat halfway through, and he looked up at them startled. He went back and re-read the passage several times before he looked up again.

"The Chosen One… is The Man of Many Faces."

"It appears so," the watcher replied, his tone neutral.

"And… I'm a pretender…" Jarod trailed off.

"Looks like you win the prize, mate." Spike commented as he sauntered back in the shop. He sprawled back in an empty chair beside Jarod and studied him intently. "Can't say you really look like the saving-the-world type though."

"Shut up, Spike," Buffy said conversationally.

Jarod glanced between the two of them, sensing a tension there just under the surface. Ignoring it, he spoke. "The rest of this prophecy seems to correspond with what I know of the scrolls. And, as I have just explained, the Centre is alive and well in Delaware. If that's what is meant by 'rising', it's accurate." He looked contemplatively at Buffy. "Now, maybe you could explain to me the part about 'the Slayer' and the Hellmouth? I'm more than a bit curious, especially given the... interesting assortment of weapons you people are carrying."

She looked at Giles for support, then turned her gaze back to Jarod. "I'm not sure you would believe me if I did," she replied honestly.

"If there is one thing I understand," he said with a wry laugh, "it's that sometimes the most bizarre sounding things are true. Try me."

"Okay," she said, steeling her resolve. "The short story. Sunnydale is the Hellmouth. I mean, it's on the Hellmouth. Well, actually, it's the under the old high school. But you know what I mean. It's here. In our town. It's the entrance to Hell. A lot of bad guys keep trying to open it, but so far we've fought them all off.

"Yea, us," Xander interjected half-heartedly.

"Mystical phenomena tend to gravitate towards it," Buffy continued. "It's like a great big demon magnet. Or an evil magnet. Weird things always happen in Sunnydale."

Jarod blinked. He looked around at their faces and realized they were deadly serious. "That's… pretty fantastic," he admitted. He thought back to what he'd learned about the town in his research. "It would certainly explain a lot about the unsolved crime rate in this town, though. So, the article I read on the internet, about the Slayer - that was referring to you?" he asked Buffy.

"Yup, that's me," she agreed with a sigh.

"And you fight evil. Bad guys. Demons."

"Well, yeah, but mostly I kill vampires. That's my first calling, being the Vampire Slayer and all."

Jarod stared at her as though she'd grown another head. "Pardon me, did you just say… *Vampire* Slayer? As in, vampires?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, creatures of the night, undead, blood sucking demons, those are the ones."

Shaking his head, he leaned back in his chair, lifting a hand to his forehead as if in pain. "I hate to admit this, but…" He looked up at her with an apologetic but skeptical look on his face. "I am having a hard time with this after all."

Consternation coloured his voice. "The entrance to hell? Demons and vampires?" He looked around at them all. "I don't know if I can wrap my head around all of this. I am just coming to terms with the fact that the little girl Miss Parker saw on the island may very well have been a ghost, but this… it's pretty hard to believe."

Spike sat forward on the edge of his chair and put his face mere inches from Jarod's. "Believe it, mate," he advised. "Or you might end up with a vamp wrapped around your throat."

To emphasize his point, he smiled - and morphed into game face. "Grr."

A strangled yell escaped the pretender's lips, and he scrambled backwards. He fell and tumbled unceremoniously to the floor. Quickly regaining his feet, he cast about wildly, looking for a weapon. He spied the wooden stake Buffy had been carrying earlier sitting on the counter, grabbed it and brandished it at the vampire. As he stood there, it slowly seeped through his fear-fogged brain that no one else had reacted.

"Spike!" Buffy scowled at him. "You didn't need to scare the hell out of him!"

The blonde vampire slouched back into his chair with a grin. "Gotta take what simple pleasures I can find these days, luv," he shrugged. "Besides, you could have talked half the night. Bloody hyper-analytical git, that one. Now he knows in a close and personal way. Mission accomplished."

"You… you're a vampire," Jarod stated in a relatively calm tone that belied his inner turmoil.

"Right in one. He *can* be taught!"

Jarod looked at Buffy. "And you are a Vampire Slayer."

"Two for two! Now don't strain yourself-"

"Shut *UP*, Spike!" Buffy ordered.

Jarod kept going. "So, then why…"

Xander stood up and went to stand beside the confused pretender. "I know, I know, why is Spike still breathing? Or, not breathing as the case may be, but still alive. Or actually, undead would be the correct term here and I'll shut up now, but just so you know, we all wonder the same thing ourselves on a regular basis."

"Ha bloody ha, Harris. You're a regular laugh riot." Spike looked back over at Jarod who was still standing in a defensive posture, stake in hand. "Oh, put the sodding thing away," he grumbled with irritation. "If I'd wanted to eat you, you'd have been dead long before the slayerettes arrived."

"Somehow, I don't find that very reassuring," the pretender replied darkly. His stance had relaxed somewhat, but he did not return to his seat beside the vampire.

"Don't let him worry you. He actually helps us. He can't hurt anyone."

"Slayer!"

Buffy ignored Spike's wounded protestation. "Well, he can't hurt humans. He has a chip in his head that give him a jolt if he tries."

The peroxided vampire jumped to his feet and started to pace. "Sure, just tell the whole neighborhood! 'Guess what everyone? Ole' Spike is a Nancyboy, feel free to kick his ass.' "

With a growl, he pulled out his cigarettes. "Bloody hell! It's not bad enough I have to sit here and listen to you lot insult me, but I'm out of fags too." He glared at Buffy for a moment, then grasped his lapels, pulling the duster straight. "We'll talk later, pet," he promised, then stomped out of the store.

As he strode down the street, Spike was glad he'd gotten out before anyone asked him what he'd been doing there in the first place.


***************************************
Los Angeles International Airport
Los Angeles, California
Saturday Night
***************************************

"Have you seen this man?"

Parker stood at the counter of the Hertz car rental agency and grit her teeth. Sydney was showing the clerk a picture of their escaped pretender.

"Uhm… yeah, actually," the girl replied. "He was in here last night."

In an instant, Parker slid in front of Syd. "Did he say where he was going?"

The woman glanced around, and looked worried.

"Why do you wanna know? Are you cop or something?"

Parker grimaced with annoyance and pulled out an official looking Government Issue ID and flashed it at her. "Or something."

"Well…" The blonde woman captured her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm not supposed to give out information. I could lose my job."

Seeing the look on his companion's face, Sydney stepped in, smoothly averting the confrontation. "We understand your predicament. But it is imperative that we find him before its too late."

The clerk balked for a moment, but at his gentle urging, finally acquiesced. "Well," she began, "normally I don't remember a whole lot about the customers-"

"What a surprise," Parker muttered under her breath.

"-but he made a big impression." She smiled. "He was really nice - and he gave me a big tip, too! No one's ever given me a tip before. And it doesn't hurt that he was such a hottie."

Parker bit down on the impulse to smack the woman. Since she didn't at all care what some bimbo thought about Jarod. Not a bit. Really.

"He was looking for some town..… Sunny something.. Sunnyville? Sunnydell?" The clerk screwed up her features in concentration for a moment, then shrugged. "I can't remember for sure. I sold him a map, right after I told him it was too bad he wasn't staying in town longer."

Parker turned on heel and left before she followed through on her initial impulse, waiting outside impatiently while Syd rented a car for them. Broots, who was standing outside with their bags, eyed her nervously.

"Everything all right, Miss Parker?"

"Peachy," she snarled.

A moment later, the older man exited the rental agency, keys and a map in hand. Wordlessly, the trio made their way over to a newer model sedan. He handed the keys to Broots, and the tech loaded their luggage while he unfolded the map and laid it down on the hood of the car.

Parker ran her finger down the index of cities until she came to S section. "Sunnydale. Sunnyside. Sunnyslope. Sunnyvale. How many fucking towns in this state need to have Sunny in their names?" she complained. "All right, Freud. Which one was our boy headed to?"

"The clerk said 'Sunnyville' or 'Sunnydell' - I would imagine that Sunnydale or Sunnyvale would be the most likely options."

She located them on the map. "Sunnyvale is a 'burb in San Jose. I'm thinking that's the less likely option. Sunnydale is a town about 70 miles south of there. I say we hit that one first, and if our lab rat isn't there, we move on." Parker shook her head. "I'm officially in Sunnyhell." She looked up at the two men. "We're going to the Marriot and heading out first thing in the morning.

That decided, she snatched the keys from a startled Broots.

"And *I'm* driving."





At 3:30 AM, Parker had given up on sleep and woken Broots and Sydney. Two hours earlier, the room next to hers had become the red light district. Three distinct voices had roused her with their grunting, groaning and giggling. The rhythmic slamming of the headboard against the wall had played counterpoint to the squeaking of the bedsprings. She'd tried the earplugs still in her coat pocket from the shooting range. She'd tried banging on the wall and yelling. Twice she'd almost gotten back to sleep, to be re-awoken as the bedroom Olympics next to her started afresh. If they hadn't gotten out of there when they did, she'd have put a bullet in someone's head for sure.

They'd been on the road for about 20 minutes, when a steady pain set in above her right eye. A half an hour after that, it began to throb in time with the snoring that resounded from the back seat. Her trigger finger twitched. Broots was luck she couldn't drive and take aim at the same time.

The first gray tendrils of false dawn were lightening the night sky when Parker saw the sign. The cheerful lettering proclaimed "Welcome to Sunnydale" in cursive bubble like letters. She slowed down and pulled off the road in front of it.

Syd woke from the light sleep he'd fallen into when Parker shut the door behind her after exiting the car. He watched her curiously as she leaned against the front of the vehicle and stared up at the road sign.

Without the slightest warning, she pulled out her 9mm and emptied the clip into it, putting a row of bullet holes neatly across the sign. Broots jerked awake in the back seat as the shots rang out.

"What the hell?" He looked around anxiously. "What's going on, Syd?"

After a moment, Parker got back into the car, slammed it into gear and sped off. Behind them, the sign wavered and creaked then tilted over at a crazy angle.

"Might I inquire what that was all about?" Syd asked mildly.

She shrugged, eyes on the road. "It just had to be done Syd. Trust me."

Broots stared at the back of her head and wisely remained silent.






Parker walked along the beach, enjoying the sounds of the surf, the warmth of the sun. It was so much nicer here than in Delaware at the moment. The water looked was so inviting that she gave in, kicking off her sandals to walk through the waves as the crested on the sand.

Unexpectedly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up - there was someone behind her. Dropping the sandals, she reached for her gun, pulling it out even as she spun around. The sight before her almost caused her to lose her grip on her weapon.

"M-mom?" Her voice caught in her suddenly constricted throat.

Catherine smiled sadly at her daughter. "You have to go," she urged gently. "The Convergence is at hand. Be strong, my darling."

Miss Parker took an unsteady step towards her mother. "What do you mean? What is the Convergence? Help me momma, I don't understand!"

"It's all coming together. The time has come for you to choose." Catherine pointed down the beach. "You have to go now."

The sunlight reflected off the diamond of her mother's ring, and Parker was dazzled by its brilliance. Without warning, the sky grew dark, and the sand beneath her feet became cool, damp grass. When her vision cleared, Parker found herself in a cemetery full of old-fashioned headstones and grave markers.

Before she realized what was happening, she was being pulled towards two figures in the distance. Dark masses swirled around them, eddying currents of purple and green, with flashes of magenta curling through. The air grew cold and lightening flashed, leaving the atmosphere charged with energy.

Jarod and a tiny blond woman crouched in fighting stance, back to back, facing off against the darkness swirling around them. 'Evil' she realized. They were fighting evil. And suddenly it was surrounding her, invading her, saturating every pore.

"Join us, Angel," came her father's voice out of the miasma that surrounded her. She could feel icy tendrils of some thing tightening around her, about to choke the life from her. She whimpered, unable to break free, unable to run. She saw Jarod fighting to get to her, saw him reaching out, calling her name, but she was helpless.

"Noooo…"

A shape solidified out of the swirling haze, and then her father was standing before her. "Join us, Angel," he repeated, staring into her eyes. His were cold and lifeless, nothing of the man she had called daddy in them.

She screamed.




"Miss Parker?"

Parker jerked straight up in her bed with a gasp.

Again, the gentle voice of Sydney by her side.

"Are you alright?"

She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle and nodded sharply. She didn't trust herself to speak.

Syd glanced back over his shoulder at Broots who stood in the connecting door between their rooms. The trio had checked in to the Plaza as soon as they had arrived, obtaining adjoining suites for expediency. He gave the tech a nod and Broots went back into their shared room, shutting the door behind him. Syd turned his attention back to Miss Parker.

"You were thrashing about, and then you started to scream." The psychiatrist studied her profile in the dim light that filtered into the room through the curtains. She looked fragile - not an adjective he often thought of when describing her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Parker drew a long, shuddering breath, then laughed cynically. "For just one night, I'd like to *not* have this dream. It was the same as before. Except…" She looked over at Syd. "There was something new this time. I saw… I saw daddy."

"Mr. Parker?"

"Yeah. Remember I told you Jarod and this other person in my dream… they were fighting something evil? Well, Syd, daddy was right there in the middle of it. And he wanted me to join him."

Sydney saw fear in her eyes and knew that it mirrored his own.

"What in the hell is going on Sydney?"

He didn't have an answer.

 

Part 3