title: Nothing to Fear From The Darkness

author: lisa roquin

rating: 15 or so.

fandom: BtVS/Boondock Saints

series/sequel: Saints of Retribution

characters/pairings: Xander, Faith, Andrew, Connor, Murphy

disclaimer: all copyrighted characters and their "universes" belong to their respective authors, writers, creators, production companies, producers and long lists of people that are so very much not me. Quite simply, if you recognize it, it isn't mine. No profit made, no harm intended, just having fun.

summary: The business of Slaying comes into sharp focus for the MacManus twins amongst other things.

warning: er...language and hints of religion? (Hello-see fandoms. Boondock Saints? MacManus twins. What do you expect?)

author's note:

wordcount:

 

 

 

 

 

Days melted into weeks all too simply, and for the most part they’d been too tired to notice. Mid-March seemed a reasonable distance off in early November but in truth it was insanely soon.

The bar needed the cooler underneath the bar replaced and some cleaning up. The bar itself needed sanded and refinished but, honestly, most of what needed done now had either been needing done when Doc still had the bar, or the damage they themselves had inflicted the night Doc died. The Russian’s hadn’t let the bar go too badly to hell. The four floors above it were another story.

There was a stairway that led up from the bar, and the fire escape made an exterior entrance to the floor directly above the bar--which covered the entirety of the building that also housed a small mom and pop newsstand/convenience store next to it and the storage areas for both businesses on the alley side of the building.

The ‘first floor’ had a huge main room, a hallway that had three rooms on one side, two on the other plus a massive bathroom/utility room. The floors above were split in half with a bathroom/utility room in the middle of the top floor and small bathrooms on each half of the middle two.

Through the years the four upper floors had been used as rentals once upon a time, as god only knew what by the Russian mob the last few years. Decades of trash were literally shoveled out. Drywall torn down, new drywall hung, taped and painted. Bathrooms gutted, new tubs, new sinks, new tiles, new washer and dryers for the utility room half of the bathrooms. God awful tile and linoleum torn off the floors, laminate put down.

They’d made amazing progress though. The uppermost three floors were now spotless, dry walled and painted as were the ‘main floor’ rooms. The ‘kitchen’ of the ‘main room’ completely redone to Andrew’s snippy specifications. Grief and doubt and questions were worn down and shoved to dark corners by simple fucking exhaustion. The refinishing of the woodwork down in the bar was going to be a bitch though. It was all woodwork, and going to be a time consuming project to say the least with what Murphy and Connor could see needed done and for every one thing they could plainly see Xander probably had a list of ten more for each.

Murphy winced as he sat down on the miserable air mattress on the floor of one of the five ‘main floor’ bedrooms. They’d finished the ‘house‘ as Andrew insisted the four upper floors of the building was called. Finally. Xander called the ‘early night’ at ten. The next morning they’d start shopping for furniture which they didn’t have a stick of.

Andrew’s kitchen was completely stocked with food and dishes and fuck only knew what sort of pots and pans and gadgets and gizmos but they had a card table at least as old as the twins and always in danger of collapsing, five folding chairs and four air mattresses. He’d never complain about the miserable shite inflated plastic meant for a night or two of camping not for almost two fuckin’ months regular use, but his back would be damn glad to see the air mattress hit the fucking dumpster. He wasn’t going to even feel the slightest bit funny about letting Xander buy them a fuckin’ bed either. They’d earn their keep with the work they’d done and damn it, his back had had fuckin’ enough of the air mattress.

He crushed his cigarette out and lifted his rosary over his head. Maybe prayers would help settle the chaos in his head enough to sleep.

~*~*~

Connor slipped back into the bedroom, hair still dripping from his shower. His breath caught at sight of his twin. Murphy was on his knees, every muscle strained and taut and most visible with nothing more than a threadbare pair of sweats on. Head bowed and eyes closed, rosary beads clutched desperately in hand. Tortured was a far better description than anything else that might be more appropriate for describing someone so lost in prayer as Murph was just now.

Conn’s eyes settled on the demons. A scar marred the leg of one, twisting it. Another scar had the wing of the other a bit misshapen and it’s tail bisected. The urge was there to go kneel behind his brother and wrap his arms around Murph was powerful. Murph was as likely to punch him as he was to accept the silent support. Most likely would Murph would allow himself to be held a second or two then punch Connor.

Connor sat down on the air mattress, glad to be getting a bed the next day. He was too fucking old, had too many old injuries to suffer the thing gladly even though he would never complain about it. Too old. Sad thought at all of thirty three.

They’d settled up exactly who and what was going to end up where over pizza just a bit ago. Xander would have half of the top floor, they the other half. Faith would have half the floor beneath them and the other half a library. The floor between Faith’s and the ‘main’ floor would have the training room and the ‘emergency dorm’ for visiting Slayers.

Andrew was keeping his main floor bedroom, claiming he liked it and didn’t want half of one of the upper floors. The boy didn’t do well off by himself and didn’t seem all that fond of extended periods in open spaces on his own. His current bedroom would assure he had regular ‘company’ and not miss the others when they gathered down in the living room and kitchen. Nor was it that far away from his precious kitchen.

Giles evidently had decided they-Xander, Faith and Andrew-were the safe house and back up book depository. Both the twins had finally asked a few questions over that night’s meal. The big guns to be pulled out during the apocalypses. Granted they’d have jobs they’d be called off on as the need arose but their semi-retirement in Boston would allow them to take care of major threats in New England easy enough. Passing through slay teams needed a place to crash or recover in safety, they had the room to put them up which wasn’t the case really in Cleveland. The house there was overflowing with four slayers, two witches, a computer geek researcher and ‘grandpa’ an Old Council Maverick who’d been retired when the First had wiped out the Watchers. The old man served as official watcher and charge of Cleveland, where evidently a growing ever-more active Hellmouth was.

There were thirty-one Slayers. Buffy and Kennedy in England at the Council headquarters, four Slayers in Cleveland. Twenty-four semi-mobile Slay teams scattered about and the final Slayer and Slay team accounted for in Boston-Xander, Faith and Andrew. Twenty six teams all told counting Cleveland.

In a way it bothered that Xander only counted himself Faith and Andrew but the younger man had assured both the twins their place with the younger three was cemented, for life if they liked. They simply weren’t going to let Giles suck them in on the official rosters unless they agreed to it.

The discrepancy of thirty and thirty one Slayers was clarified by the fact Xander and Faith didn’t count Buffy. She was still a Slayer, a legendary one who’d died twice even. It was Andrew who piped up they should have a room ready for Dawn. It wasn’t likely Dawn was going to stay in England once Buffy was dead, she didn’t like Oxford that much. As much as Dawn loved Willow and Giles, and even actually liked Kennedy, Xander was the one she turned to when things went to hell.

It had been disconcerting how the three simply accepted that the snippy little blonde of the sisters would likely be dead again, this time as they put it ‘hopefully permanently dead’ --not undead or resurrected by black magic- within the next year or two at the most.

The most disturbing revelation had been Xander and Faith were the ‘hit squad’ if necessary. That they’d been sent to kill six slayers, two they’d killed, four they’d convinced Giles they weren’t too far gone, could still find redemption among the living. If it became necessary they’d do so again. Andrew matter of factly told Connor and Murphy not to worry, Xander had promised to kill him if he went evil again, Faith would kill Xander if he ever was turned or possessed and killing innocents. Xander would take Faith out if she ever crossed the line to Evil again.

Andrew and evil were hard to put in the same sentence. The boy who was bouncing off the fucking walls over a bread machine was capable of evil? Connor had a good imagination but he couldn’t fucking imagine that. But the tired shadows in the eyes of the younger three didn’t lie, the tones of their voices, exhausted and committed to the fact of killing one another if need be, didn’t lie.

The three were inspirational in a way, or at least Connor thought so. And fuckin’ heartbreaking. Faith and Xander had been fifteen. Fifteen when they became a part of the world of fighting demons and saving the world from hell on earth. They knew the childhood Faith had lived through. Not much, admittedly, but the few bits they did know painted a clear enough picture. Andrew who had scars from his older brother who summoned and trained hell hounds to kill people in formal wear and set them loose at the fuckin’ prom, who was talking about Christmas only three days off and wanting a tree, fondly remembering the red fire truck he got the year he was in foster care. Xander who had only really said holidays meant hard liquor instead of beer for breakfast...Connor and Murphy had grown up poor, their mother too fond of whisky after their da left and mighty quick to deliver a slap or six they admittedly deserved one way or another, though not necessarily for the transgression it was given for. Still they’d grown up loved. They never doubted their mother’s love, nor that of the extended clan of relatives on their mother’s side. Aye the whole damn lot had a tendency to get drunk and brawl, Uncle Sibeal always after the waitresses at the Anvil and Aunt Maire had taken after him with her rolling pin more than once or twice over that. Aye, their family was a bit rough and more than a bit drunk but they’d had a sense of security and love that seemed to be completely lacking in the childhoods of the other three.

Still, everything they’d seen and done, despite the soul-killing weariness that slipped in their eyes now and again, the three younger occupants of the building struggled on. Faith and Andrew both accepting Xander’s almost constant petting. A touch on the arm or shoulder or one-armed hug. Xander reached out and touched, over and over. And Faith and Andrew both not only accepted it, seemed to crave it. Everything they’d been through had certainly beaten the fucking hell out of them in every way possible but they were still able to live. Laughter might be tired and occasionally a bit bitter but the three weren’t broken to the point of no recovery. Which was fucking amazing, and Connor often doubted the same could be said of him and Murph.

Connor lit a third cigarette and glanced at his brother, still at his prayers. He sighed. He knew what was tearing at his brother, and didn’t know what the hell to do about it. Of course the source of his brother’s torment was close to what had been disturbing Connor’s own peace of mind, what little he had at least.

Connor guiltily had taken a bit of extra time in the shower trying to take the edge off the constant low burning lust that was inspired by Rocco’s baby girl in her too tight jeans and low cut sweater. Faith had plopped herself on Xander’s lap earlier teasing over some shite or other. "Ya know I love ya, Boy Toy," she told Xander. Murphy had teased "Careful now, little angel, or ye’ll have Connor turnin’ purple an’ makin’ weird noises."

The words meant to tease, to have fun, to make Faith laugh and remember good things...which she had. She’d fuckin’ fallen off Xander’s lap laughing recalling the first night they’d kept her and Connor’s reaction to some of the things she’d said.

Murphy couldn’t have delivered a more incapacitating blow, not even giving him a shot to the nuts like that bitch at the pack that fateful St. Paddy’s almost seven years before. It was Rocco’s baby girl, Doc’s niece that had him half hard every time she stretched and the sweater she wore rode up giving him sight of a precious bit of skin of her belly, that made his mouth go dry when she bent to pick something up and he had a good view of her arse in tight faded jeans..It was the little girl who’d slept between himself and Murph when she’d had nightmares on the more than a good handful of nights they’d kept her. It was the little girl with the missing front teeth and crooked pig tails and skinned knees he was fucking lusting over. Granted she was a grown woman now, and could quite possibly break every fucking bone in his body without breaking a sweat herself but it still seemed almost wrong. Especially when memories of her as a child were so fucking clear and strong, and he and Murph had been close enough to grown then, at least grown enough they were on their own even if they weren’t of age.

Murph’s hand on his shoulder woke him. A glance at the clock was like a knife to his heart because he knew his twin had been up the night praying rather than sleeping, but he nodded, and got up. Aye, they’d go to Mass this morning. Like as not every morning from here out if they could.

~*~*~*~

 

Xander stifled a groan at the knock on his door. It was still dark out and he’d just gotten to bed maybe two hours before damn it. He reluctantly got up and stumbled over to it, cursing softly as he stubbed his toe on the tools he'd left sitting by the door. "What's wrong?"

"We're going to Mass."

"Mmmm cool. Be back by nine." Xander yawned and shut the door. By the time he laid back down he was awake.

Daily morning mass hadn't been part of the twins routine but they hadn't missed a Sunday since Xander had gone to collect them from Detroit the night Doc died. They'd worked like mad these last few weeks, it didn’t seem odd that they chose now to start daily Mass. After all, the hours they’d kept hadn’t been conducive to regularly doing anything. Xander knew better than to let Faith brood and knew the amount of activity it took to exhaust a Slayer. Better to run them all ragged making record time on the repairs that were necessary than to let Faith go patrolling when she was in the frame of mind to hunt or to just fight. Still he made a mental note to pay a little more attention to the clock and slow down things a bit. The twins would never say a damn thing too worried about being burdens or not earning their keep, but the work schedules and hours would be adjusted to make sure they had the time for daily Mass here on out.

Giles had asked Faith's patrol schedule his last call and they'd tangled over Faith not having one yet. That she hadn't patrolled since they'd come to Boston to find her great-uncle and found the old man dying of cancer.

Faith slacking was preferable to Faith dead. She was their big gun. Their most powerful Slayer, the longer a Slayer lived the stronger they were and Buffy and Faith were both stronger than the activated Slayers from the beginning. Even the girls called in the years since the Activation were stronger than what the Activated Slayers had been. As if the original Slayer Spell had adjusted, or readjusted to the now thirty Slayer lines. Of course the girls Called since the fall of Sunnydale were natural Slayers, not Slayers forced into activation so that might make a difference too.

When his phone rang he gave up any thought of sleeping more "Yeah, what?"

"Xander, did I wake you?"

"Giles, it's like six or something." And it’s not Tuesday or Friday, Xander thought with a feeling of dread coiling in his stomach.

"Sorry but--"

"What? Going to rip me about letting Faith not go off the deep end?" Please let that be it, please.

"No," Giles sighed. "Xander, Shauri was killed last night."

"Shit." Xander hissed. "What?"

"We're not sure yet."

"Was she alone?"

"No--the whole team. Shauri and Hassid were killed. Frederick is missing. Otanda and Leelee were both injured badly. Willow and Kennedy left a bit ago. I'll keep you posted as I can."

"Okay." Xander managed, just barely. "Fuck"

"Quite. Willow wanted to know if Andrew could do the Scrying?"

"Yeah, I'll have him try. Can at least rule in or rule out the States Mexico and Canada that way."

"I'm sorry, Xander,"

"Yeah, I know."

"I'm almost beginning to see why the Old Council became so detached."

"Yeah, well their methods sucked and I won't have any part of it."

"I know. The teams...work."

"Can't get detached. Detached gets the girls killed faster." Xander shot back.

"Exactly so. I--simply need the reminder."

"Sorry,"

"Don't be. I know you were very close to them. To all three of the Africa teams and every member that has been or is part of them."

"I need the step back. That's why I--"

"I know. I'm proud you're wise enough to realize that."

"I still got a crew here. And we'll--if there's something that needs done we'll do it."

"And Faith's friends?"

"Connor and Murphy are staying with us for now. They know the basics. Hell they started off with vamps and the Rosenberg Express, Giles."

"We found another cache of ledgers and information. One of my father's old trunks actually. He had copies of his journals, including the ones he kept on Mary Ellen Patrick who was the Slayer from the fall of 1981 to early 1987."


"Whoa. Why didn't we hear about her before? I mean she'd've been hitting Nikki Wood's longevity record right?"

"Mary Ellen was from Philadelphia. And no where near that remarkable of a slayer except for her longevity. Or at least no where near as difficult as Buffy and Faith. More a Kendra style slayer." Giles continued. "In my father's journal there's the information for at least ten of the various churches the council had dealings with. There's a church in Boston..."


"Yeah, if you get time, call the Boston one. Work out something for the Holy Water at least if we need it. Conn and Murph'll have kittens if we're breaking into church for Holy Water."

"Very well."

"Have you called Timbe or Kadje yet?"

"No..."

Xander didn't even question the startled slightly guilty tone in Giles voice. "I'll call. They're my crews, Giles. I'll call."

"Xander. I'll call as soon as I have news."

"Okay." Xander agreed sadly.

~*~*~*~

Connor stopped dead in his tracks which caused Murphy to stumble into his back. Murphy tensed as he caught sight of the younger man at the table.

"Hey guys, how was church?" Xander managed weakly.

"Y' look like shite, what happened?" Murphy blurted and moved around Connor to sit at the table.

"Lost one of my crews last night. Whole friggin Crew looks like."

"Which crew?" Murphy prompted softly as he sat down next to Xander. Connor at Xander's other side only a moment later. Not that they knew anything about the Slayer crews nor any of the fairly large group involved in the Slayer/Watcher business apart from Xander, Faith, Andrew, the Sisters and Giles.

"Shauri, one of the Slayers I trained. She was all of seventeen, been fighting for three years."

"Since she was fourteen?" Connor demanded incredulous.

"Mm...Hassid was killed outright. Frederick is still missing. Otanda and Leelee aren't likely to make it. Both were injured badly. Not sure what it was yet. Frederick's sister was one of the activated Slayers. Marta. She was killed within weeks--the fall of Sunnydale. Freddie took the official Watcher type spot for the crew. He was the one who did the calling back and forth with me or with Giles or Willow. Otanda was a tracker and a soldier. Leelee was a shaman. Hassid was an obstetrician from Cairo. His wife was a Seer and his daughters were in order a Potential Slayer, a Seer and a witch. When there's an apocalypse bid--seers always are targeted first. Kill the messenger, leave the fighters fighting blind because they're warning system got buried. Hassid's family were killed. His girls were just babies. The Potential was the oldest and she was four. He signed on with the Watchers. Decided he could do just as much traveling around and offering medical services to remote villages while helping kill demons. Robin never liked how I sat up my crews but Giles has most of the girls working in groups now. Slayer, Witch, someone who can pull off Watcher/Translator and with any luck one or two others-- big bonus for someone with some basic first aid type skills at least.. That formula worked in Sunnydale for years."

"Hey, Boy Toy, why didn't--oh shit. Who?" Faith asked stopping dead in her tracks and staring at Xander.

"Shauri and Hassid. Otanda and Leelee are still alive but doesn't look hopeful. Freddie hasn't been found."

"Oh God." Andrew mumbled from just behind Faith.

"Giles wants you to do a scrying."

Andrew nodded.

"Scrying?" Connor frowned.

"One dies, the next one is Called. Somewhere a thirteen or fourteen year old just got super powers."
"So young?" Murphy whispered.

"Activation took everyone old enough. So yeah, the ones being called are younger, used to be fifteen was the average. Since the activation it's more like thirteen. The Potentials in the right age bracket were all activated when Red did the spell with the Slayer's Scythe."

"But scrying...like witchcraft."

"Guys, Andrew's ...basically a born warlock. Natural affinity for hard core black magics."



Willow, aye, they’d felt her power the night Doc died and she fucking teleported them across the country back to Boston. The three had made comments that seemed to make as much sense and be as credible as Andrew being evil.

"Ignus," Andrew said in answer to the twins doubtful looks, and held out his hand. A ball of flame appeared in the air.


"ANDREW! NO FIREBALLS INSIDE UNLESS DEMONS ARE ATTACKING!! YOU BURN THE BUILDING DOWN I'M KICKING YOUR ASS!" Xander shouted.

"Dissipate...oops"

Faith coughed at the sudden amount of smoke. "Damn, Geekboy, you need work on putting the fire out."

"Open a fuckin' window!" Connor gasped.

~*~*~*~

By seven that evening the bar was overflowing with their purchases and even more had already been taken up to the 'main' floor. Their original plans for the day stuck to, better than sitting and waiting for the phone to ring. They could take cell phones with them to the stores, keep busy. The twins had gotten an education in power shopping and scaring the piss out of fuckin’ store clerks that was for sure. Xander said he’d been taught how to shop by the scariest ever-Cordelia. Neither twin had asked exactly who Cordelia was at the weary mournful tone her name was said it, whoever she was they didn’t expect she was still counted among the living.

Andrew, though fuck only knew when, had ordered the bulk of things on line and had waited for deliveries all scheduled for that day. Connor, Murphy, Faith and Xander had gone to the stores getting smaller things bedding, towels, curtains, a bit of larger furnishings, and a bizarre assortment of miscellany that baffled both the twins, especially when their opinions were asked.

Connor and Murphy were startled by the redhead's appearance from thin air when they’d no more than entered the apartment’s main room with yet another load from the uhaul truck they’d rented for the day. The other three did no more than call out greetings as if such things as people appearing out of thin air were to be expected.

"Freddie was turned. Kennedy dusted him. Otanda and Leelee both died earlier."

"FUCK!" Faith snarled.


Xander clenched his fists and nodded. "You have a chance to scry yet?"

"No....If Andrew wants to do some of it, he can. I'll help with this? Show me where it goes and we'll see what I can do. Giles wants you ready for books and weapons tomorrow. He's..."


"He's what?"

"Well the further we get with the old Council's stuff the more of a mess it is...We've got at least one, looks more like eight apocalypses coming up next year and the one in May or June is looking to be one of the real biggies."

"Eight Apocalypses?" Connor gaped.

"Yer so fuckin casual about an apocalypse?"

"After the first few it gets to be routine," Willow said with a shrug. "But it's shaping up to be a bit busier than usual this year."

"An apocalypse--fuckin end of the world completely." Murphy demanded incredulous.

"Or at least the world overran by demons and the humans killed in the first wave of it the lucky ones." Xander nodded. "We've had at least one major apocalypse and a hand full of mini ones that would only take out an area the size of say Texas and Alaska put together every year."


"Here let me," Willow said with a look of concentration starting to form on her face.


"Wait. Let's go down stairs and get out of the way of things. Andrew, why don't you and Faith head for the magic shop you found in the yellow pages and see if they have what you need for the scry spell."

~*~*~*~

Murphy managed not to shiver at the crackle that went through the air. Xander caught his hand as he made a move to cross himself when Willow's red hair suddenly started to turn black.

"Will..."

"Under control." She said as the air began to stir as if a small windstorm was forming inside the bar. Furnishings and boxes began disappearing.

"Willow"

"Almost done"
"DAMN IT WILLOW DON"T MAKE ME KILL YOU! You're using way to much fucking magic! Look at you!" Xander shouted.

"Done. And I have it under control."

"You just went black eyed and veiny." Xander shot back at the once-more normal looking red head. "Hello, Prosperexia Lady! How much magic have you been using, Willow?"

As far as Murphy was concerned, the desperate plaintive edge in Xander's voice more unnerving than the sight of the little redhead with black veins, eyes and hair floating a bit off the ground. The younger man might get a little abrupt with exhaustion, frustration, or wanting to storm through explaining painful subjects as fast as he could, but this was a man who'd laughed at a fuckin' vampire, who had calmly handed them stakes and said he hoped Faith was right about their being able to fight. The tone Xander addressed Willow in was close to...breaking and terrified under the anger.


"Only what I need to! And your apartment is done. You're welcome."

"Willow--"

"Giles will call you later." she snapped and disappeared.

"Shit," Xander sighed.

"The magic a problem?" Connor asked.

"For Willow, yeah." Xander murmured unsteadily, "Has been in the past. One of our near-Apocalypses was her." Xander sighed.

"What?" Murphy gaped.

"She--she OD'ed on Black Magic. It wasn't--It wasn't good. At all." Xander said with obvious reluctance to talk about the matter. "Basically, she's a junkie. Only it's magic not crack or whatever. She's powerful, but the Black Magic pulls at her...she starts getting...using the magic too much. Relying on it for every little thing. She's been doing a lot lately. And a lot of teleporting..."

"Ye let her," Connor frowned as he glanced around at the emptied out bar.

"Had to see..." Xander trailed off. "Magic is for emergencies and necessities like wards or scrying spells, not convenience and every day stuff... Let's go see just how thorough she was." Xander sighed.

Murphy could only stare as they entered the main room. Rugs were laid out. Dining room table and chairs near the kitchen couches and entertainment center, the television and DVD player and stereo all appeared to be completely hooked up and plugged in along with the remotes sitting on the coffee table. Xander made a pained sound and moved to sit at the dining table with an expression that could only be described as destroyed.

Murphy gave his twin a quick hard look, and bounded through the 'main' floor to check out the other levels.

She hadn't simply moved things she'd put it all up and organized. Curtains on the fucking windows and the new towels and such folded in the fucking bathroom cupboards, beds made and clothes put in dressers. The room deemed the 'library' was full of bookshelves and books.

"Fuckin' hell," Murphy breathed as he stepped into the 'library' a few of the tomes radiated a power that was undefinable and something clear in the back of it was down right nasty. He also knew fucking well there hadn't been more than three trunks of books in the building other than Doc's Bible that Faith now had and Andrew's comics.

~*~*~

"Y' alright?" Connor asked at long last when the younger man finally looked up from where he'd rested his head on the table for the past twenty minutes or so. Murphy's steps thundered down the last set of stairs.

"Long fucking day," Xander muttered.

"Got t' say I don't get this magic shite,"

"You don't have to get it, you don't have to like it, and if you don't want to we'll do our best so you don't have to deal with it at all. You guys are Faith's family and you're our friends. Your place here does not hinge on dealing with the whole Slayage business."

"So we should just wait for Faith to not come home some night because somethin' killed her?" Connor demanded angrily. "An' not try to do anything about that?"

"That's not what I meant. You can get into the demon killing business up to your eyeballs if that's what you want. We'll take whatever help you offer, but we won't ask."

"Ye don't have t' ask," Murphy declared.

"How bad is it?" Xander whispered.

"Clothes are folded in the fuckin' drawers an' everything. An' books."


"Books?" Xander murmured.

"On the shelves upstairs..."

"Fuck."

"If it comes to it, I'll pull the trigger." Murphy offered, obviously taking Xander's angry entreaty to Willow about not being forced to kill her at face value.

Connor wasn't sure what to think, couldn't wrap his mind around what the little redhead had managed to do in moments with the furniture and sorting things out and putting them in their places. He wasn't sure he wanted to even try to think of what she might be capable of if she lost control, or crossed lines that oughtn't be crossed.

Xander shook his head. "My Willow. My job." Xander whispered. "Same as if it'll fall to me if Andrew goes over the edge or Faith does again. Or Faith's job to kill me if I get turned or possessed and can't be contained. You guys need to think before you sign on."

"Y' call us the Saints of Retribution and believe the vision we had. Y' know what we spent the last seven years a doin'"

"Yeah, and could you put a stake through your brother's heart if he got turned by a vamp? Or your lover's?"

"Don't have a lover, and if it came to it, Murph'd rather be dead than a vampire, so would I, but whichever that had to do the dustin' would be dyin' right along with and if possible bury the dust with the other."


"Aye," Murphy agreed.

"Easy to say. Another thing to watch someone you love crumble into ash on a piece of wood you're holding."

"Ye've done that," Murphy said with a crack in his voice.

"First vampire I ever dusted was Jesse." Xander said quietly. "His mom was my babysitter. Pictures of the two of us in nothing but diapers in the same playpen curled up together asleep not even a year old. Best friend, might as well be brother and first lover all rolled into one. First kill on top of that."

"Jesus" Murphy whispered. "How old were ya?"

"Fifteen."

"Christ" Connor said shakily reaching for the pack of cigarettes in Murphy's t-shirt pocket, taking one and lighting it before he handed the pack back to Murph who lit a cigarette of his own.

None of the men heard the door open and startled at Faith's voice cutting through their thought's with "Fucking hell, Red."

"That sums it up good." Xander agreed tiredly.


"You okay?"

"Not really, but what else is new?" Xander shrugged. "You get what you needed."

"Didn't need anything but...got a few things." Andrew bit his lip and looked around. "She's slipping, big time, isn't she?"

"Duh much?" Xander snorted.

Andrew frowned and reached in his coat pocket and pulled out his pager. "Call Giles, Xan."

"Yay. Fun. I don't know where Willow put my phone."

"Here." Faith pulled hers from her pocket.

Xander caught the phone tossed at him and dialed the number from memory. "Hi Kennedy, is Giles there. He paged Andrew for me to call..."

Murphy winced as Xander held the cell phone away from his ear. Even a few feet away he could hear the shrill voice on the other end of the connection as Willow's girl set to ripping him to shreds.

"Hey, Giles," Xander sighed tiredly. "Yes it was that bad...she went veiny and black eyed."

"She folded the fuckin underwear and matched the fuckin socks and put them in the drawers!" Murphy shouted.

"You hear that? Yeah....Giles, I think it rates a bit more than an oh dear. C'mon veiny and folded boxers? That should at least get an oh dear lord if not a full out bloody hell."

"Ma always did say the world might end if we ever fuckin' folded our clothes and put em away right." Connor snorted. Willow had scared the piss out of him when she went all black eyed and veiny and started floating just a little. Scarier than Il Duce shooting at them in front of the Mafia 'Cleaners' house. But...Murph shouting about folded fuckin underwear?

Faith choked. "Wonder if she folded up my bras and thongs too."

"You own bras?" Andrew stared.

Faith aimed a half-hearted kick in his direction which he hastily jumped out of the way of.

"He's got a valid point there, Faith. Closest thing I've ever seen you have is sports bra for training and leather bustier for fighting..." Xander gave a tired smile. "Yeah, Giles, we should put it in the official books under possible signs of the apocalypse, folded underwear...Giles, you know better than that. Do you think I want to be the one to have to take Willow out? Hell yes we're serious...We're not that much of slobs either!"

"Whaddaya call this then, Boy Toy?" Faith yanked up her t-shirt.

"Fuckin hell, woman!" Connor yelped. "Keep yer fuckin' shirt on!"

"Uh...yeah she flashed us and she was wearing a bra...well, I thought you'd like to share the surreality of this....Aw c'mon, why not?...Okay. Well then Andrew can take it from there." Xander said and looked at Andrew, "Devon Coven has our newbie North Eastern Seaboard... Yeah, we'll do the approach we're closest in that case. Yeah...Giles. Send her back to Devon. Do something. Please. And no, we won't tell the newbie that folded underwear could be a harbinger of an apocalypse. No I'm not drunk, I'm just very freaking tired. Lost a whole team and Willow going veiny to fold underwear all in one day. It's be obnoxious or break. Yes, plannin on being obnoxious. Later, G-man."




~*~*~

"This is too fuckin' much," Connor whispered looking around the room that was now his and Murph's.

"Aye," Murphy had to agree with that. It was nearly fully half the whole building to start with, the landing with the stairs and the bathroom/laundry room aside it was half the building. Near the bathroom they shared with Xander were two double beds, matching headboards and dark blue duvets. A night stand between the beds and a wardrobe on the other side. A chest of drawers at the foot of each bed.

"Fuckin' tv! And fuckin computers?"

Murphy shook his head. A couch and two recliners faced a wall which held a smallish entertainment center holding a tv, DVD player and smallish boom box. Two desks were in a third corner with empty bookshelves beside them. On the desks were computers with the freaking flat monitors and all. A smallish fridge and a microwave on a stand were near the door along with a small table and four chairs. It was set up like a regular little apartment, certainly finer than anything they'd lived in since they were on their own.

"Xander and Faith's are set up more or less the same." Murphy offered.

Connor simply turned in a circle taking in details. "Aye, works rather nice. We've almost got our own place but still with the others."


"Aye,"

"It's still too fuckin' much. Didn't realize they were buying fuckin' half of this or what they meant it for."

"I know."

Murphy headed for the far bed. Connor always liked sleeping closer to the door, didn't matter how a room was set up or which direction anything faced, simply was the way it was. Habit. Connor had slept nearer the door in their little room in their Ma's house and had ever since. If there was a reason, it was whatever Ma's logic had been on where she put them when they were babies.

"Y' think they've been babying us? With the demon shite. Hiding things."

Murphy shrugged and set his shoes to the side, then stood to take off his pants. The other three hadn't ever hid any of the stuff from them. Kind of hard to when they were attacked by vampires before being teleported to Boston by Willow the night that Doc had died. "I don't think they so much hid it as didn't drag us into the fuckin middle of it whether we wanted to or not." Murphy shrugged.

Connor nodded slowly.


They hadn't gone out of their way to hide anything, but they hadn't drug Connor and Murphy into anything either. On the other hand, Connor and Murphy hadn't gone out of their way to find out much about exactly what all the demon shite entailed. Maybe the other three had taken it as they didn't want part of it and not so much hid it but simply left it as far in the background as possible.

The knock startled them. "Guys can I talk to you a minute. New development." Xander called from the bathroom.

"Aye c'min!" Connor called out.

Murphy lit a cigarette as Xander came in and sat down by him. "Just got done with round two on the phone with Giles. Willow said you guys had her going for the black magic. That she couldn't help it."

"The fuck?" Murphy frowned.

"Which is still not good but maybe she isn't as out of control as I thought earlier. She scared the shit out of me but if you guys are making her go for Black Magic to move furniture...still not good."

"Us?" Connor asked and grabbed for the pack of cigarettes beside Murphy.

"Suffer not a witch to live and all that crap. Andrew stumbled across some references about the Saints of Retribution couple years back, he was always panicked they'd come after him. He said something too the other day about how the book had to be wrong about the Saints triggering reactions in Black Magic users cause he's a born Warlock so if the book was right being around you he should be twitchy and going for magic for every little thing and as dark as possible of magic at that. But he's never had that problem being around you guys. Willow's defense for going veiny is you guys made her skin go a crawly and itchy when she reached for the magic to move stuff. Now Giles is ranting we might be under your evil influence and you could be some kind of demons."

"What the fuck?"

"Andrew's looking for --"

"That Andrew?" Connor raised an eyebrow.

Xander nodded.

Connor went to let Andrew in the 'front' door of his and Murphy's room. "Faith's coming," Andrew said by way of greeting. "And I've got the Saints book. It was one they sent. Oh, and our newbie is on Prince Edward Island."

Xander nodded. "I haven't told Giles anything. Your secrets are yours. But Willow's reaction to you two while she was doing the mojo today...well, any which way its one hell of a red flag whether she was reacting to you two or she's getting to the edge and using way too much magic."

"Tell him. And the Sisters. But just him and the Sisters. None of the rest." Connor decided, not that he had the slightest clue who 'the rest' might be exactly, but there were thirty slayers in twenty five, now twenty four teams besides Faith, Xander and Andrew.

"Aye." Murphy nodded.

"Okay."

Xander dialed the phone he was holding as Faith slipped into the room without so much as a knock.

"Let us put our fuckin' pants back on," Murphy growled and grabbed for his jeans off the floor and tossed Connor's at him.

"Yeah, it's me, Giles. You, Buffy, Dawn, Kennedy and Willow come over for a few minutes. This one is a face to face thing. I know it's late but it won't take long. And I stand by Willow's got me freaking worried...Yeah, even if it's fact she was reacting to the twins, I'm still freaking worried. It'll make sense in a few."

~*~*~

"Never going to fucking get used to people poppin in out of thin air," Murphy muttered and lit another cigarette as Giles, looking exhausted and dressed in rumpled suit pants, dress shirt and loosened tie was there with "the Sisters" Kennedy in pajama bottoms and tank top, Buffy and Dawn both in t-shirt style night gowns that didn't even hit their knees and Willow wearing the dress she'd had earlier. Evidently the Sisters didn't think getting dressed was necessary for teleporting by magic across a fucking ocean which was telling in and of itself as to the levels of magics and shite they were used to. Just pop round the fuckin world in your night gown, no big fuckin deal...

"We're here, now your explanation, Xander," Giles demanded.

"Explanation NEVER goes any farther than us. NEVER goes in an official watcher type book." Xander said fiercely.

"Here," Andrew tossed the book in the new arrivals direction. Buffy caught it and handed it to Giles.

Connor raised an eyebrow in Murphy's direction. Murphy nodded, aye, that was the simplest way.

"And shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee.

Power hath descended forth from thy hand

that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command.

So we shall flow a river forth to Thee,

and teeming with souls shall it ever be.

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

"Freaky twin thing. Two for the price of one." Xander offered.

"Damn that made me all shivery, you two call down some serious shit with your prayer." Faith murmured.

"Saints of Retribution," Dawn murmured then looked at Willow wide eyed. "Magic users can't hide their true colors from them."

"Andrew?" Giles demanded sharply.

"We ain't got a problem wit' the little one. He's a good boy." Connor spoke up. "She makes us wary. He's what he was born to be. She's not."

"Not sayin' she's crossed the line. She's right on it though." Murphy added seamlessly picking up where Connor left off. "She needs to be more careful with her power."

"Xander says her heart's good, and she does good with her magic, but she's doin' too much fuckin' else that is tipping the scale." Connor said.

"Fuckin' underwear didn't need folded. Beds didn’t' need made. The offer of help was nice but just a poppin stuff in the room would have done." Murphy shook his head with a frown.

"Yer going t' far. Showin off and getting lured away from what y' should be doing." Connor finished.

"Dawnie what do you mean they're Saints?" Buffy frowned at her little sister after blinking at the twins and their seamless speech. Not so much as a breath between where one stopped and the next started, it was downright freaky.

"Saints of Retribution. Remember that Andrew had the freak out a couple years ago..."

"Yeah, and who told him the Saints would go after him, Dawn?" Xander added.

"Anyway, Irish family named MacManus get visions from God and go on seven year killing sprees, executing the pure evil beyond redemption among humans. They've killed a few dozen watcher's through the centuries. First MacManus Saint at least that was traced was Owain. His seven years were from 84 AD to 91 AD." Dawn explained

"Their seven years are done. They're resting, healing and trying to sort out what next. And they're family. Don't go all watcher research mode on us, Giles. And don't you dare go 'fixing' things, Willow. You watch your magic, spend some time in Devon again," Xander said firmly.

"Willow's all better."

"Buffy, it's not going to go away. Willow's going to be fighting it for the rest of her life. Today was just a reminder that accidentally got forced. They didn't mean to set her off. They don't set Andrew off. They're done. Retired. They've got a place with me, Faith and Andrew as long as any of us are alive. And they have a place in this building as long as they're alive. Got the deed settled last week. The five of us are all on it and whoever's alive has it. And the next Saint will eventually get the building." Xander sighed.

Murphy looked at his twin. Aye they'd be having words with Xander once the Sisters left about this name on deeds shite.

"We'll be helpin them with what they need." Connor spoke. "We can fight. We speak and read a half dozen languages. They're family. Known Faith since she had skinned knees and pigtails. Her da was a good friend to us, practically a brother and died helping us with our Calling. Died in our fuckin' arms. We can do no less for his baby girl, nor for Doc either. Her uncle was practically a second father to us. We got our revelation on what we were to do now the night we met Xander."

"And the neglected patrols..."

"They still had bullet wounds that hadn't healed quite right. Faith needed the time. And we weren't wasting our time either. We needed to be settled." Xander shot defensively at Giles.

"Well at least this pair of saints aren't demonic." Giles sighed with a droll note to his voice.

Murphy looked at Xander in askance.

"Anyanka, Patron Saint of Scorned Women. Anya was a vengeance demon."

"Don't forget Hallie. Halfrek, Avenging Saint of Neglected Children. She was a vengeance demon too." Andrew piped up.

~*~*~*~

 

Murphy was still as he pretended to sleep, in case Connor woke up, and listened to Connor's restless sleep.

They hadn't said a word about the deed. Xander had looked so tired, just wrecked to nearly falling apart when the Sisters and Giles left. Murphy was still a bit wary of the Sisters. He supposed he'd get used to them, eventually. Unsettling lot they were though, even if he hadn't had much to do with them under the best of circumstances--Doc's death and funeral and then showing up in their nightclothes out of thin air to settle what was going on with Willow's magic. The other three spoke of the Sisters so fondly that they couldn't be all bad.

There'd be no going back on the decision to join in fighting demons. Not that there was really much of a decision. Not with Faith fighting. Not even with Xander and Andrew fighting.

Murphy rolled his eyes at the soft moan that came from Connor's bed. Last thing he wanted to fuckin' listen to just now was Connor. He slipped carefully from the bed, slow and silent, Connor stirred and made another soft sound but didn't wake.

Murphy tiptoed over to the far corner where the little table sat by the fridge and microwave. Andrew had left the book about the Saints of Redemption on it, he turned on the lamp in the corner and began reading.

~*~*~

Connor awoke, sticky and disoriented. Something was wrong. No sound from the bed only a couple feet away...

"Fuckin hell" the words barely discernable.

Connor sat up looking around "Murph? The fuck y' doin' over there"

"Readin' you kept me up."

"Fuck you," Connor snorted glad of the shadows that hid his blush. The dream rattling him because of who it was about. "What are you reading?"

"The book Andrew left."

"And?"

"And there's fuckin prophecies and everything else in here."

"Prophecies?" Connor gaped.

"Aye. And one was about us. Think the next one is your boys."

"THE FUCK?"

"Some sorry bastard ancestor of ours had a vision. Set ter prayin and then had another vision, he accepted the offer his line was stuck for as long as it existed. Seven years." Murphy said.

Connor grabbed his robe and headed over to the table where his twin sat.

 

"Read it yerself," Murphy snorted and handed him the book. "Fuckin' headache tryin to sort it exactly but ye'll get enough. I did."

The page was written in Medieval Latin and the opposing page in even older Gaelic. "Fuckin' headache is right." Connor muttered as he squinted at the page. He couldn't quite get all of it but he caught enough.

"Fuckin’ givin’ me a headache just tryin’ to sort this," Connor breathed.

"Aye."

He could read Latin, speak it fluently, Gaelic as well, but the Mediaeval and older versions were another thing and he couldn't quite get more than that at least not in such dim light at two in the fuckin' morning. The next set of pages were the same. "Fuckin' late. Look at this tomorrow." Connor declared unsettled by the bits he was able to pick out from the prophecies. "Y’ need t’ fuckin’ sleep. Y’ were up all last night."

"Aye, ma," Murphy snorted. "Woulda been fuckin’ sleepin’ if y’ were fuckin’ quieter."

Despite exhaustion, and not sleeping the night before, rest was slow in coming with the thought of what he’d managed to translate.

 

~*~*~*~*~

"Ah, good morning, Father Patrick," Father Edward Brennan smiled at the new priest. James Patrick wasn't yet forty a charismatic young priest who'd been after an assignment to St. Anne's or a church like it, St. Anne’s was just lucky enough that the Bishop decided to grant his wishes of being sent to a church in true need in a less than picture perfect area of the city.

"You seem troubled this morning."

Father Brennan sighed and nodded. The eldest of the three priests assigned to St. Anne's and now that the Monsignor had retired he was left with this to deal with these sort of things--including a phone call he'd hoped never to receive. "I received a phone call about an hour ago from England."

"England?"

"St. Anne's is one of a few churches around the world that for one reason or another have ties to a group named the Watcher's Council."

"So...a Slayer is coming to Boston?"

Father Brennan blinked.

"I'm not sure if you've had one here since but twenty two years ago a Slayer spent some time in Boston and a good bit of it at St. Anne's. My twin sister, Mary Ellen."

"Well, that's one less worry. Father Maguire and myself were both here then. I was wandering how to explain the council and the Slayers too you."

"So when will the child and her watcher be arriving?"

"That's the other troubling part. They've been here. Mr. Giles--"

"Edmund Giles?"


"No Rupert Giles he said his name was. Mr. Giles gave me the address and I quote 'bloody well offer your assistance or else I do not need to fear for my children’s lives over stolen holy water' the man seemed quite distressed."

"I never met Rupert. I knew Edmund, his father. Edmund Giles was Mary Ellen's Watcher for a year. I never cared for the man."

"Yes, a Giles was her watcher when she was here, stuffy standoffish man I avoided him mostly, I must say." Father Brennan nodded. "The most worrying thing is that I recognized the address this Rupert Giles gave me. A bar one of our late parishioners ran for years and his great-niece and...her companions are planning to reopen by what they had said at the funeral."

"Companions?"

"Mmm." Father Brennan sighed. "A pair of brothers that are parishioners here. If a you ever see a pair of tattooed men at the cross in the front of the church at strange hours or they stand up and walk up to pray at the cross in the middle of Mass, pay them no mind. That's simply their way. Good men if a bit rough around the edges. They've not missed a Sunday since they've returned, yesterday they were at the morning mass. Used to be it was rare they missed a day, before they left. We'll see if daily mass becomes their habit again or not, but just so you know. The other two men don't attend Mass. Not churchgoing at all if the dark haired one is to be taken at his word. They're rather...a rough looking group. I find it quite hard to reconcile the group of them having anything to do with the Council. Though I can see how Mr. Giles might be concerned if the Slayer is with this group for some reason. The MacManus brothers...they are good men, but not gentle men and fierce in their faith. I do not think they'd truly kill the Slayer's watcher for stealing holy water from the font but the man would certainly be bloodied and bruised if caught and they didn't understand."

"MacManus?" Father Patrick whispered.

"Your sister was fond of those tales. She asked me if I thought it was wrong of her to look at the MacManus Saints as her Patrons and pray for their strength and guidance as well. I only know what little bit she told me, I've never seen an accounting of them, though Mr. Giles said the Watchers had verified a number of the MacManus line that followed the legend and a hand ful of daughters that had been Seers. Even a MacManus daughter who had been a Slayer. Our tattooed pair of parishioners who go about their devotions in...slightly odd ways are named MacManus. Twin brothers, Connor and Murphy MacManus. They look nearly nothing alike but a closer matched set of twins I've never seen, not even the most identical of twins."

"Edward?" the third priest asked coming in on the tail end of that explanation.

"The Council called Roger. We've a Slayer in Boston and St. Anne's is to offer what she may need from us." Father Brennan said bluntly.

Father Roger Maguire crossed himself.

"I'd be happy to do most of the dealing with them," Father Patrick offered carefully. "I may be new to St. Anne's but for the sake of my sister's memory I'd dearly like the opportunity to help her successor."

"Slayer Mary Ellen's beloved twin brother Jimmy is our new Father Patrick."

Father Maguire sighed heavily. "Edward, I can't..."

"You don't have to." Father Brennan assured the other Priest. "If young James wants the duty he can have it. I'll go with him later this morning to meet with the Slayer if you'll keep watch on the church."

"Of course."

~*~*~*~*~

"Fathers...C'mon in. Nasty out there. Y' have a problem that brought y'?"

James Patrick was a bit startled by the soft brogue of the man's voice. He recognized the man from Mass the past two mornings. The dark haired one of the pair who'd walked up to the cross in the middle of the Mass to pray, kissed the statue and left before the sermon was even half over.

"Not exactly. This is our new priest, Father Patrick."

"Pleased to meet y' Father. I'm Murphy. That there's me brother Connor. An' Faith, Andrew and Xander." he pointed to each of the other four now moving to join them just inside the bar's doorway.

A rough looking bunch indeed, to a one dressed in worn jeans with more than one hole amongst them, the three men in faded dark t-shirts. The woman in a tight sweater that was fraying a bit at the cuffs and hem. The boy in a few layers of faded and stained sweatshirts.

"Do any of you know a Rupert Giles?" Father Brennan asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, we know G-man, why?"

James was shocked. What he remembered of Edmund Giles he found it hard to credit the man's son would know a group that looked like this.

"He called St. Anne's rectory earlier this morning about an official matter."

"St. Anne's is the Council Church here in Boston?" the one introduced as Andrew asked.

"Yep" Xander answered.

"Cool."

"Father Patrick would like to meet the people Mr. Giles spoke of. He will be assisting the girl and her mentor anyway possible. And perhaps can be of assistance in guiding her. His sister was Chosen as well."

"Patrick...Patrick. Mary Ellen Patrick. Called in 81 at fourteen. Died in 87 just a couple weeks before she turned twenty." the boy, Andrew blurted. "She was one of the longest, before. Her and Nikki Wood. She had a twin..that you?" the blonde boy rattled off.


"Yes." James nodded

"Geekboy.."

"Are your guests here?" Father Brennan cut in.

"Uh, we don't have any guests. Slayer. Witch. Watcher. They speak six languages and are handy in a fight. We're it."

"Ye don't have that quite right there, Xander." Connor said softly. Murphy nodded.

"Fine. Slayer. Witch. Watcher. And this generations MacManus Saints of Retribution."

"Edmund Giles was my sister's watcher. I know he had a son Rupert but I find it ..."

"G-man got in all sorts of trouble for not being tweedy enough. He tries be all proper but he's cool. And we rattle any retreat to stuffy out of him quick enough." Xander grinned.

"Is there a reason for your presence--"

"No. Just need somewhere to be. Things have gotten changed. An apocalypse a few years back required the activation of more Slayers. There's thirty now, not one. Last few years have been pretty wild getting the balances restored but they more or less are now. As much as they ever were."

James stared at the woman. "You're--"

"Twenty-four in a couple months." Faith answered.

James eyes widened.

"And..."

"Faith's the True Slayer. The Original Line. The line was split about ten years ago. Buffy was the Slayer. She was drowned by an ancient vamp, only technically dead for a few minutes, got her right back with CPR but that Called Kendra and after Kendra came Faith. I've been involved since I met Buffy back in high school. Andrew and I grew up in Sunnydale, California."

James crossed himself recognizing the name of the town.

"Yep. Hellmouth born and raised Watcher and Witch, the oldest continuously living Slayer ever and the Saints of Retribution. The reason we're in Boston is this is their home. Faith and the twins. We came back for Faith's Uncle Joe. There's twenty four teams scattered around the globe. Slayer, Watcher, Witch and whoever else signed on. We've got a newbie to go talk to after Christmas. Where she's at is quiet, she should be safe til then. Lost a Slayer and her team in Africa yesterday. We're--the clean up crew. Semi retired. There's nothing in particular that brought us here, at least not of the weird."

"You should take him with you to Prince Edward Island." Andrew said.

"If I can be spared from St. Anne's..."

Father Brennan nodded. "If it's after Christmas yes. You are welcome to raid the font of Holy Water whenever you need. I'm afraid we must get going if there is nothing you need of St. Anne's immediately. We've got two days to finish up the toy drive..."

"Can you make us up a list?" Xander asked. "We all qualified for Angel Trees and church group gift basket type stuff when we were kids. We've got enough now. Inheritances from friends lost over the last few years. Really need to do something more with it than buy a bar."

The boy started bouncing happy. "Oh that'd be so cool! Hallie would love that. Anya would too."

"Hallie, Anya?"

"Friends we lost when Sunnydale went. I was Anya's beneficiary. Ahn was Hallie's but Ahn didn't make it out either."

James Patrick nodded slowly. "Why don't you clean up and come to the church? We'll have a list by the time you arrive. At least a partial one."

"Cool!" the boy, Andrew, bounced in place.

~*~*~*~

"What the fuck's with you? You've been weird all day." Connor demanded as Murphy emerged from the bathroom and headed to get dressed in the clothes Connor had tossed on his bed while he was in the shower. It was more than the demons-both the old ones tattooed on his back and the ‘real’ ones Faith, Xander and Andrew spoke of-- more than lack of sleep, something was fucking wrong and Connor wanted to know what.

"Nothin'"

"Don' fuckin' lie to me," Connor growled.

"Fuck you!" Murphy snarled.

Connor stared at his brother in furious disbelief a moment. "Since when do you fuckin' lie to me?"

"I'm not! It's nothin. Nothin' that you can do anything about. Nothin' I want to fuckin' talk about. It's fuckin' nothing!"

"FINE!" Connor bellowed and stormed out.

Murphy sat down heavily on his bed and reached for the cigarettes on the night stand. Fuck.

~*~*~*~

"Oookay," Xander drawled out as he stepped out of his room to the landing as Connor punched the wall by the stairs. "I really don't want to redo drywall again so soon."

"You go talk to the fuckin idiot. Been fuckin weird all day and won't fuckin talk to me," Connor snarled, then bellowed "FUCKING IDIOT!" at his and Murphy’s door before he stormed down the stairs.

"Uh huh," Xander stared after Connor. Murphy had been a little odd earlier, a bit twitchy and a bit quieter than usual but...had to be a freaky twin thing that Connor was picking up on something more or was twitchy about something of his own to get that extreme of a reaction.

The door to the twins room flew open "FUCK YOU, CONNOR!"

"Uh...explanation?" Xander stared. In the almost two months he'd known the twins they were basically never out of arms reach of one another. To the point seeing one without the other set off the automatic reflex of scanning around for trouble. "And we're supposed to be going and talking to the priests and then shopping. Clothes in general, especially pants, kinda necessary."

"FUCK YOU TOO!" Murphy shouted as he blushed and slammed the door to his and Connor's room.

"This is going to be a long afternoon," Xander muttered then headed down the stairs himself.

Faith was staring at Connor in the main room. The twin was pacing and muttering darkly under his breath in Gaelic. Andrew looked at Xander wide eyed.

"No clue." Xander shrugged.

~*~*~

"Father, you coming with us?" Xander asked noticing the coat Father Patrick was wearing as he greeted them at the rectory door.

"If that is alright?" Father Patrick smiled.

"Sure. We've got the Suburban outside."

"Can he make them behave?" Andrew whined. "They're worse than fourteen year old Slayers with PMS! They’re glaring. They’re not even trying to beat each other up just glaring and ignoring. If they weren't them I'd say they were breaking up!"

Faith choked trying to contain her snickers. Connor and Murphy gaped slack jawed. Xander stifled a groan at the poor priest's shocked look. "Just be glad all they're doing is glaring and growling. You and Faith can go with Father in the store, I'll take Grumpy and Growly."

Xander managed not to wince at the glares that earned him.

~*~*~

"Here. You two might as well do your shopping too while we're here. Don't see you two wanting to make a trip back but here. And I will show you the books when we get back. You can see exactly how much you've earned and how much you're owed. Even with rent, food, smokes and beer taken out." Xander said handing them each an envelope before they entered the store.

"That's a fuckin' thousand dollars." Connor hissed counting through the bills in the envelope quickly.

"Yeah."

"But--"

"Just don't even start. I figured your pay by what I was quoted as union starting wage for a no-experience grunt on a construction site. I have copies of estimates I got from the building's inspection and my momentary thought of being lazy and hiring the damn work done." Xander said firmly.

"What the fuck are we supposed to do with a thousand dollars?"

"Buy Christmas presents. New jeans. Bullets. I don't care. It's yours."

"Christmas presents." Murphy mumbled. "Faith and Andrew be expecting them."

"Yep. Now go. I'll find you in a couple hours. Faith gave me the clothes part of the list. Her, Andrew and the Father are going after the toys and CDS and batteries and junk."

Murphy watched Xander walk off.

"Is that your problem?" Connor asked quietly. Wondering if maybe it was what set the demons on Murph’s back after all, only with a specific target.

Murphy groaned. "Will y' just fuckin' forget it?"

"No."

Murphy shook his head.

"Then what?"

"It doesn't fuckin' matter. Just the way things are alright? I'm allowed to fuckin' just think once in a while aren't I?" Murphy snapped.

"Fuck." Connor sighed.

"Just. Not now. Alright?"

"Soon?"

"Probably not."

Connor shook his head. "He's a good man."

"Connor!" Murphy snarled.

"Dropping ths subject. Christ"

"Lord's fuckin name." Murphy said automatically.

 

 

Connor dropped his questioning, at least verbally. He kept looking in askance whether he realized it or not. Enough so that Murphy nearly took his head off again.

"Think we should get somethin' for the Sisters too?" Connor frowned.

"Probably," Murphy decided. The sisters would definitely be getting Xander something, Faith and Andrew too. They seemed to be able to afford at least a polite token gift for Connor and Murphy and they also seemed to be the type that would do just that. At least the little one, Dawn was it?, would be getting them something. Murphy was sure of that. Just the way she acted with Xander and Faith and Andrew. She was more tightly bound to those three and any fool could see just a sweet girl.

"So what?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

In the end they found a sweater, a necklace with a praying hands charm dangling from it. and a knife for Faith.

For Kennedy and Buffy they reluctantly went with the suggestion of a sharpening stone for blades from Andrew and earrings. For Willow a pair of earrings and a pretty lined blank journal. They both got the impression she was a diary type, at very least she could use it for a spell book. Which well...

Witchcraft didn't sit all that well with either of them, uncertain how it could be anything but evil, or at very least playing a dangerous game with forces they couldn't begin to comprehend but...what was, was. And they could attest that it wasn't always possible to stay away from the taint of darkness or keep ones hands clean while fighting evil.

For Andrew they found a cook book and grabbed three of the lined journals like the one they had gotten for Willow, though Andrew's had plain covers not roses and kittens. A newly released Star Wars video game and finally, laughing, they agreed on the fuzzy oversized Scooby Doo slippers for Andrew as well. Boy was always whining he was cold.

Dawn was a bit trickier. A necklace to match Faith's and they went back for a second pair of scooby slippers. Xander, Faith and Andrew at least seemed to have a thing for Scooby Doo.

Xander they found another knife, a sweater, and Murphy insisted on a set of journals.

"The fuck?" Connor frowned at the books. "Xander?"

"Aye." Murphy frowned. "He keeps the records. The official ones, this is for the not official ones."

 

 

~*~*~

"Fuck," Murphy hissed almost silently as Connor started moving about in his sleep. Connor hadn't had this many filthy dreams since they were teenagers, maybe not even then. If the source of those dreams wasn't Roc's daughter Murphy'd give his brother a bit o' hell just because. But it was Roc's baby girl and her too tight jeans and too skimpy sweaters and Murphy wasn't going to tease about Faith. Embarrassin' the hell out of his brother was one thing, being disrespectful about Faith, who was almost-family, was another. He slipped from bed grabbed his robe, cigarettes and ashtray and headed for the bathroom.

~*~*~

"Okay." Xander shook his head as he entered the bathroom. "You two still fighting?"

Murphy shrugged. "Want me to go?"


"Nah, just after water." Xander lifted his coffee pot as he headed for the utility sink next to the washer and dryer on the "laundry" side of the large bathroom "You can come brood on my couch. Probably more comfortable than the washer in the bathroom."

"What are y' doin' up?" Murphy asked as he followed Xander back into his room. Not what he wanted to ask but it would do. The scars were amazing. Enough to rival his own and Connor's.


"Haven't been to bed." Xander shrugged with a yawn.

"Somethin' wrong?" Murph frowned and sat on Xander's couch.

"Paperwork. Hassid's lawyer faxed me a bunch of stuff that I need to take care of. He named me executor."

"Y' --"


"Here." Xander tossed a file down on Murphy's lap. "Estimates, costs. Wage rates. Hours we've put in on cleaning and working. Overtime figured up too. Time and a half after eight hours, double time after sixteen. Time and a half on Saturdays, double time on Sundays"

Murphy's attention was sufficiently distracted. The numbers on the estimates were fucking insane. He could see why Xander decided to do the work themselves since they could. He had the skill and enough muscle with the rest of them to do it. Fuck.

And the union pay scale. Fuck. More than Murphy'd ever made in his life an hour even back when they'd worked at the slaughter house. They'd started cash under the table and not a bit of paperwork to legally be in the states, not to mention the violations of labor laws being just sixteen, not quite seventeen. But even after their immigration papers had been worked out before their calling they'd never really gotten around to informing the office at work of that. They'd had enough to keep them in beer and smokes, they had friends and each other and hadn't really given a rat's ass to argue with the fuckers upstairs in the office. Their shift supervisor liked them and watched out for them. Let them cover shifts for friends like Ty when they needed to. Let them off without a word if they asked. It'd suited them well enough.

Looking back, they'd just been biding their time, even if they hadn't realized it then.

The hours Xander figured up for them working might not be exactly right, a little short some days, a little long others but, aye, they'd averaged at least eighteen hour days all done and told. Maybe not exactly right, but close enough and it wasn't like any of them had punched a clock or even paid attention to what day it was let alone what time it was.

The utility and grocery bills tallied up. Half the utility bills went to the 'bar' the rest split up between the five of them and 'watcher business'. The grocery bill was split five ways. The bulk of alcohol purchases put in the C &M column, which was about right. Murph thought that perhaps they should have a bit more and Xander a bit less by the way the beer was drank but still close enough and Xander was stubborn as fucking hell, arguing over a couple of six packs was pointless in the big picture which was if he and Connor had remotely earned what they'd been given. The clothes they'd worn to Doc's funeral, 'rent' for their room and the totals of their furniture--though that was offset by "Council Hiring Bonus". Fuck, he put a council paycheck on for each of them as well. At least 'retainer' not much hell, a week's beer and cigarettes and food for the month was all it was but still it was there.

"What's the different pay rates?"

"Grunt work, cabinetry, tile in Faith's bathroom, drywall. Figured by what we were doing." Xander said not looking up from the papers he was shuffling through. "I was crew foreman once upon a time. Biggest job I was in charge of was the high school in Sunnydale. I had fifteen crews that I was in charge of on that job. This might not be exact on what they pay rates are around here but the general scale is right at least for California five years ago." Xander shrugged.

"Retainer?"

"Standard for translators. You speak six languages, you're on the roll as translators for now."

Murphy knew they'd worked off their keep easily. They'd all worked their fuckin' asses off but still..."Don't want to mooch or be charity cases, make ya think..."


"You're out of your fucking mind." Xander grumbled. "You think Faith and I could have gotten as far as we have on our own? Have the entire upstairs done and be ready to start the bar itself this week? Even with Andrew as a gopher? You earned it. The sign bonus is standard for Council translators, so is the retainer. In fact it's about a ten years out dated standard but that's what was the sign on and the retainer the last translator the Council hired. If I had my way you two would be 1 share of utilities not 2 but I didn't figure it would be worth arguing with you stubborn blockheads over."

"Aye, we each pay our share."


Xander rolled his eye. "You guys--you aren't mooches. You aren't charity cases. You've more than earned everything and your right to be here."

"Earned our keep, aye, but..."

"But what?"

"If y' didn't give us a chance to earn our keep we have no right to be here."

"Bull. You've been adopted. Shut up about it. You're Faith's family. You've got just as much right to be here as anyone else."

Murphy nodded slowly glancing over the numbers again. Meticulous, every penny spent on him and Connor accounted for, or at least as close as humanly possible by the look of it. "An' when we're done fixing up the bar?"

"We'll need bartenders to cover when stuff goes down. This year there's a lot of prophecies up for grabs so it could be interesting."

Murphy thought of the prophecies he'd been reading the night before. "How often do they come true?"

"Depends. Some of it some drunk pulled out of their ass and decided to use incoherent babble as a reason to have even bigger idiots hang on their every word. Some of them are, pretty freakin' scary how accurate they can be. Others it's a toss up which category they belong in because there's so much cryptic shit that usually has been put through no less than four translations over half dozen centuries. There was a prophecy that said the Master was going to break lose from his prison, kill the slayer then rule the earth. He got loose, drowned Buffy--killed her. Except CPR wasn't exactly common practice when the prophecy was written. She got better and dusted his ass. There's always a loophole, a way to stop, get through or around a prophecy. Nothing is ever set in stone. If it was we wouldn't be here for you to ask about prophecies. Hell we probably wouldn't even been born world would have ended so long ago."

Murphy nodded and chewed his lip as he glanced back at the papers Xander had given him.

"Is this about the Saint's Sister's Prophecies?" Xander asked quietly.

"You--"

"Actually fought my way through bits of that. Yeah."

"When? I know you've slept..."

"Waiting at the lumber yard and what not. Things like that. Our couple nights off. Read some of it a few years back when Andrew first stumbled across it."

Murphy bit his lip. "Faith's Da was with us for a bit. Roc was killed because of our calling."

"You didn't kill him. And from what little I've gathered he might've been...not the most together guy or the sharpest tool in the shed but when ya got down to it he was a decent guy and I doubt he'd've held anything against you."

"His last words were tellin me never t' quit. Kill em all."

Xander gave him a sad smile. "Yeah. There you go."

Murphy lit another cigarette. "I'm interruptin' y' I should go." he said as Xander moved to put away the papers he was looking at.

"Nah. Was pretty well done, just going over it again. Better to do that tomorrow when I'm more awake."

"I can go."

"You're fine."

"What?" Murphy demanded as Xander looked at him and fought a grin with a shake of his head.


"Bathrobe and work boots are a unique fashion statement."

"Fuck you," Murphy snorted.

Xander smirked then asked, "You two settle up whatever that was earlier?"

Murphy shrugged. "Nothin' to settle, except maybe teach Connor when to leave something fuckin' well enough alone."

Murphy tensed under Xander's speculative gaze. The younger man had an odd intelligence, not books, not even logic seemed to come natural to him. At least not a 'normal' logic with clearly defined rational steps. He zoned out the evening news and seemed intent on just surviving his little world. A caretaker, if his own needed something he'd kill or die to get it or learn whatever skill needed through dogged determination to protect his own. He had a way of getting through to the heart of something.

"You sure there's nothing to settle,"


"Yeah, I'm sure," Murphy snapped defensively but the younger man's intense stare didn't let up a bit. Murphy began glaring back.

Finally, Xander said quietly. "You guys know, you are welcome here forever but we're not going to tie you up and keep you prisoner. You don't have to get into the demon business. And you have as much say as anyone else around here. I'm not the dictator or something. Hell, I don't even like being in charge."

"It's not you," Connor said from the bathroom doorway that had been left open.

"Aye, it's not. And someone needed to fuckin' take charge. No one else knew what to do with the work around here." Murphy said.


"Whatever's at Murph, it's not you. Not Faith or Andrew."

"No' you either," Murphy told his twin. "Just fuckin' everything and nothing to do about it. The priest this morning how he was about fallin' over himself about Faith--"

"Average Slayer lasts six months, year at the outside. His sister was called at 14 and made it til she was just a few weeks shy of twenty. She was one of the greats and longest lived." Xander said quietly. "Faith's almost twenty-four. It's now eight years plus she's been Slaying. Buffy for all she's been alive the last nine going on ten, even when she was trying to be normal in Rome for that year she got sucked into demony stuff and slayage. We won't have Buffy much longer. What she has holding her to the world isn't going to be enough with how badly she's been broken and she shouldn't even be here. Heaven's been trying to drag her back since Willow brought her back to life. Faith...Faith's tough. She doesn't know how not to fight. And now she's got ties to living on top of that. We might have her til she's thirty or even thirty-five. Slayers fight. Demons are drawn to slayers. Search them out to make a name for themselves. Even with Slayer healing injuries eventually take their toll or something gets a lucky shot."

"Why put our names on the deed though?"

"I'm more breakable than Faith is and I fight right with her. I'm not the send the girl out and hope she comes back school of watcher. Even if something happens to us, there's Andrew to worry about. He doesn't do well alone. And he's easy to get control of. Be nice to him and he'll do just about anything for you. He gets taken advantage of, gets grandiose ideas of evil and builds magically-enhanced tech that's inspired by comic books. He's a computer and gizmo genius and comic geek long before he's a warlock and he's pretty powerful as a warlock. We're talking freeze ray guns like Mr. Freeze from Batman and shit like that. There's the dorm up there. Slay team passing through needs a safe cheap place to crash. Hell, street kid needs a safe cheap place to crash if it comes to that. You've got as much sweat and feeling invested in this place as we do. You won't lose your home if something happens to us. And the open-door for Slayers or whoever in need, figured you guys would do that anyway since that's pretty much how you are."

Connor opened his mouth to demand how Xander thought he owed them a thousand dollars each. Murphy held up the stack of figures Xander had given him before Connor could speak. "It add up?"

"Aye. Still too fuckin' much and not necessary but aye, it adds up." Murphy nodded.

"Faith and Andrew and I all got the same amount, same deal out of what was set up for restoring the building."

"We're here, we're stayin' we're in. Whatever's crawled up Murphy's arse doesn't have bearing on that," Connor declared.

"Aye," Murphy agreed.

James Patrick was startled when he entered the church. It should be empty--but it wasn't. Two figures in the shadows beneath the statue of Christ.

He flipped the light switch and shook his head. The MacManus brother's heads snapped up in perfect unison, blue eyes wide and guilty.

"Continue your prayers," James called softly. Two nods answered him. He watched as they finished, kissed the feet of the statue and walked out of the church with a troubled air, obviously not staying for that morning's mass. James didn't doubt he'd see them at Midnight Mass the night even if they weren’t likely to stay for that morning’s mass.

~*~*~

Xander raised an eyebrow as they slipped into the apartment above the bar.

"Church" Murphy said in answer to Xander's questioning glance.

Xander nodded slowly looking from one to the other. "You guys okay?" It wasn’t even five yet. Xander was pretty damned sure St. Annes didn’t have mass at three soemthing in the morning to have them coming home from Church at this time of the morning.

"Not particularly," Connor huffed.

Murphy made a soft sound half agreement, half annoyance at his brother's words.

"No one's going to hold you to dealing with any more of this than is unavoidable, like covering for us if we have to take off fast. Even that..." Xander broke off with a sigh. "You've had your own destiny shit dropped in your laps and survived it. You're not obligated to this."
"Neither are you," Murphy pointed out.

"Too late for me to go do anything else," Xander shrugged. "Been too late for me to completely walk away for years. Can't do it."

"Then you should get that we can't either," Connor accused softly. "Not that we've ever been anywhere but around the edges of decent folk since we left Ireland but...last seven years we've--"

"Lived in the shadows to kill what lives there." Xander offered quietly.

"That was very well put." Connor smiled.

"Giles words, he was worried about me getting lost in the shadows a while back." Xander snorted.

"Why are you up?"

Xander sighed. "Waiting up for Faith to get back." He'd heard the two leave earlier. Faith had come up and knocked on his door and told him she was too wired to sleep, that she was going on a quick patrol and promised to back by sunrise.

"Where'd she go?"

"Patrol. She was antsy and needed to do something. Wouldn't let me go with."

"Fuck" Connor hissed.

"She'll be okay," Xander yawned.

Murphy glanced toward Andrew's Kitchen as the sound of the coffee pot's gurgle caught his attention. He glanced at Connor who looked at him as if he'd lost his fucking mind. Of course they were waiting for Faith as well. So what they'd promised Father they'd be back to help with the deliveries to shut ins. He absently registered Connor explaining their plans for the day as he went to get three mugs.

Xander's sleeping habits, or rather lack there of, were as bad as his and Connor's. These last years always wary, always alert and ready, they'd done little more than doze unless they were so injured they passed out from the pain, or passed out drunk. The last couple months working on the bar they'd been too tired to do aught else but crash into bed and that was the closest thing to a normal sleep schedule they'd had since...since before the fucking Russians had broken into their apartment. Since this had started.

Murphy poured them each a cup of coffee and made his way back to the table, taking the seat on the opposite side of Xander.

"We’re taking a break. Fuck the bar for a few days, til after the New Year. Faith, Father Patrick and Andrew are going to head up to Prince Edward Island on the 26th. I’m headed to Africa for a couple weeks. That’s what pissed Faith off enough to send her out tonight, that and our new Slayer is all of twelve."

"Twelve?" Connor echoed in horror.

"New Slayers are younger." Xander sighed. "When we faced the first, all of them in the right age bracket were called. The only unactivated potentials were the ones that were too young."

"Fuck" Murphy whispered. Not sure he wanted the definition of too young if twelve was acceptable.

Faith slipped into the apartment covered in slime.

"Sewage or demon that smells like sewage?" Xander made a face.

"Both. I’m hittin the shower." She said walking on through the room.

"EWWW!!!" Andrew whined as he stepped out of his room. "You stink,"

"Welcome to Slayage. Sewage and demon guts before breakfast." Xander looked at them.

"We can handle it." Connor said determinedly.

"Aye," Murphy agreed. There really wasn’t a choice. And besides, they’d seen so much darkness these last years of the human sort, there wasn’t much left for them to fear. Worrying about his twin being killed was not new, and demons, weren’t exactly a new concept despite the idea of them on this plane and being corporeal with slime and horns and fangs and tentacles being more than a bit of a shock. Still, there was little to fear from the Darkness when they’d lived in the shadows so long with their calling. The only things new to fear were losing Faith, Andrew or Xander and that was a fair enough trade-having the three of them about enough that it became a fear to lose them.