Disclaimer: Joss owns the characters of BTVS. I am not making any money off of this fic. Please don't sue me.

Challenge details at the end.

by Jackofspikes

Chapter 19.

"Magic Box. Can I help you?" Tara asked politely.

"This is Quentin Travers, I wish to speak to Rupert;" he demanded, abruptly.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Travers; he's not here at the moment. May I ask what it's in relation to? Perhaps I can help you." She sweetly replied.

"Unless you can tell me why I'm being evicted from my home, a home that has been in my family for generations, I doubt very much that you could be of any assistance whatsoever." He snapped at her rudely.

"Actually Mr. Travers, it's not Mr. Giles that you need to speak to at all. If you ring the Summers residence and ask to speak to Spike, I'm sure you'll get all your answers. Good day, Sir." Tara grinned as she hung up on the incoherently spluttering man. Quickly ringing home, she warned them of the incoming call.

*******

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the head of the now defunct Council of Wankers. What can I do for ya, mate?" Spike drawled jubilantly into the phone.

"William the Bloody, I presume. I don't know how you and Miss Summers have managed this, but rest assured I will not stop until I have put everything back in its rightful place! That includes you and Miss Summers." Quentin spat out his fury. "Now I'm giving you the opportunity to save yourselves a great deal of trouble by undoing what ever it is you have done, starting with the return of my family home. I promise you that I have no problem taking legal action."

"Bollocks! Take all the legal action you want mate, it's not gonna change a thing, and even if I thought for one minute that it might, I'd just have ta remind you that we can afford better advice. Then, of course, I'd have to tell ya that that course of action might just make me a mite pissy and I might just feel inclined to split the place up into a group of affordable flats for demons in need." Spike cheerfully informed Quentin.

Spike laughed silently at the indignant splutterings of the enraged man. Then his voice got hard; "Know this Travers, you and the bloody council have been judged by the Powers-That-Be and you've been found corrupt. These changes had been planned for and set in place centuries ago. This dimension is now under the protection of the Guardians and the essence of the First Slayer has been released, as this dimension no longer needs a slayer. Which puts you lot, at the council, out of a job. You do not want to find out why interfering with the guardians would be a mistake. As to the Travers family estate, we'll get back to you when we decide what to do." Hanging up the phone, Spike realised that, on some level at least, he had missed being an active Master Vampire and the power that came with it.

*******

The two guardians, the Key, the ex-watcher, the ex-vengeance demon and the White Witch all sat around the dining room table. The discussion: the order in which the mission of the guardians should be executed.

"Shouldn't the shield here in Sunnydale be put in place first? That way you don't have to worry about patrolling any more." Anya held firm to her belief that if Sunnydale was made safe first, they would all function better.

"Yes, but in order to put the shield in place, all the other hell-mouths have to be permanently closed first." Giles pointed out.

"Wouldn't the accessible portals and the fluctuating ones, which are already in place, close automatically when you close down the power output of the other hell-mouths and restrain this one?" Tara asked.

"Yes, of course they would. Thank you Tara, I should have thought of that myself." Giles acknowledged the shy Wiccan. "So by closing the hell-mouths, you close off all access to and from this dimension, with the notable exception of the Guardians, through the Key and the All-power. Even the Powers will only be able to contact this dimension through their seers."

"So...what? We don't have to worry about the portals as long as the hell-mouths are closed and we can't put up the shield until that happens. Doesn't that mean that there's only one way we can do this. First the hell-mouths, then the shield." Dawn queried.

"Nibblet's right. It's the natural progression." Spike agreed.

"Okay, so we ring Wolfram and Hart, close the hell-mouths then put up the shield." Buffy stood, nodding in affirmation of the agreed upon plan and moved to make her call.

*******

"Wolfram and Hart, how may I direct your call?" The polite voice on the end of the line asked.

"I'd like to speak to Lilah Morgan, please." Buffy told her.

"Who may I say is calling?"

"Buffy Summers." Buffy waited patiently for her call to be connected.

"Lilah Morgan." The officious lawyer stated.

"Miss Morgan, my name is Buffy Summers. I have a message that I want passed on to the Senior Partners, can you do that?" Her voice laced in polite boredom.

"Buffy Summers. Well this is a pleasant surprise. Who would have thought the good girl Slayer would be calling me." Lilah's calculating mind racing at the possibilities that this sort of contact could create for her. "I'd be honoured to help you in any way."

"Great. The message is as follows: It is the time of the Guardians. This dimension is now under their protection. You have one week to remove all Wolfram and Hart offices from this dimension before all portals are permanently closed. Any Wolfram and Hart holdings still in this dimension after that time will be blessed by the guardians. This is your only warning...So, did you get all that Lilah?" Buffy grinned at the less than polite reaction she received.

*******

The following week brought about many changes. Anya took no time at all in going though all the financial information. She happily suggested a myriad of investment plans and was delighted when the unanimous decision, that she should become the official financial advisor for the group, was made.

Giles arranged for one of the women from the new council to take over the day to day running of the shop and set about bringing some order to the magnitude of literature the new research centre had available. Much of it had been hidden away by the council of watchers, and Giles was impatient to begin his investigations of the hitherto unseen material.

Tara mothered, Dawn whined and Buffy and Spike enjoyed patrols that seemed more like evening walks than actual patrols.

When the Wolfram and Hart deadline came, Buffy and Spike made their way down to the basement. It was time to close the hell-mouths.