"I trust you have a very good reason for demanding that we meet here, Rupert," Quentin Travers blustered crossly as he entered the Sunnydale High School Library. "How do you plan on explaining my presence to your slayer should she arrive?"

"Whoops...my bad." Buffy grinned as she announced her presence in her own inimitable way. "Actually, Mr. Travers, I would be the one that did the demanding, not Giles. He just played message boy."

Quentin pursed his lips and settled his coldly questioning gaze on the other Englishman.

"In 1518, at the age of thirty, Ursula Sontheil, better known as Mother Shipton, made a prophecy," Buffy stated articulately. She was amused to note the way the elderly head of the Watcher's Council spun on his heel, far more inclined to acknowledge her presence that previously. "I see you've heard of it."

"Champions eternal, hidden from sight,
Will come forth when the time is so nigh
To enter the doorways each one holds a task;
Progress is made with each try," Quentin recited easily.

When Buffy nodded for him to continue, he did.

"The key will unlock only the first.
The crone of the three will masterfully teach.
Pan's childe will play his musical lure.
Dreams are clear to the dreamer then breeched.

The Halfling will act for balance anew.
The White One must defeat the past.
The Red Tree will master emotion true.
The Earth will remove shadows cast.

The daughters of vengeance and avarice dear,
Will must needs show replete
Of lessons learned in omneity
Of which evil can not posit.

The wizard must bind chaos boldly,
With wit, cunning and fey,
To conquer the Wolf another will fight,
The full moon holding no sway.

One Chosen, thrice dead, returns fore the first
To face the Ram and defeat,
She alone in body can best this foe
One door remains to complete.

A demon that loves must offer his soul
And sacrifice his heart's desire
Or the Hart of the Wolf and the Ram will accord
An unholy baptism of fire.

Success to these tasks brings hope evermore
And balance restored will be staid;
Fourteen gates in all must be opened and closed
The hidden returned to the glade."

Buffy turned to Giles. "You know, they're not so intimidating when you already know what they mostly mean."

Giles chuckled lightly.

"I beg your pardon," Quentin demanded she explain her comment.

"What she means, Quentin, is that not only is Buffy the ‘Chosen One' spoken about in that prophecy, but at this point in time we have already identified thirteen of the fourteen champions." Giles announced succinctly. "All are protected until the time for the fulfilment of the prophecy is at hand."

"Which means your very special little ‘let's-make-Buffy-dead' ritual is so not going to happen, ‘cause you could shoot me up with a truckload of your funky strip-the-Slayer-of-her-power juice and all you'd manage to do is piss me off." Buffy smiled coldly at the man that had, in her own time, caused her so much pain.

"If this is some ridiculous way of attempting to thwart Council procedure..."

"Oh, get over yourself!" Cordelia snapped irritably as she made her way down from the stacks to the main floor and deftly interrupted the rant Travers was working his way up to. "If I can deal with being called a ‘daughter of avarice' then you can cope with having your party tricks taken away from you."

"I demand..."

"Not really seeing you in the position of having the right to demand anything, Oh Impotent One," Xander joked as he, too, joined the group on the main floor.

Willow followed Xander down the stairs but focused her gaze on the Slayer. "Cordy day-glowed the crazy vamp."

"Thanks guys," Buffy offered her friends before turning back to face the head of the Council of Watchers. "I'll explain this much to you. The quatrain that relates to me starts off saying ‘One Chosen, thrice dead, returns fore the first' and to understand what that means you have to know that I was sent back in time by the Powers after my third death. In my time I was killed ‘thrice' in three different events and brought back in different ways, hence the whole ‘Chosen, thrice dead' deal. However, this time the Powers brought me back before my first death and that's how we get the ‘returns fore the first' thingy."

"I see." Quentin nodded in understanding. "One would assume that the Powers-That-Be enlightened you in relation to how the prophecy can be fulfilled?"

The gazes of the Champions turned to Giles, who responded by removing his glasses and cleaning them while he attempted to organize his options. He was well aware of the duplicity of which his former employers were capable, and while not willing to share anything they considered too sensitive knew that some sharing was required.

"Everything that needs to be done has been," Giles offered cautiously.

"Then I trust that the reason you have summoned me here is to discuss the Council's role in this matter," Quentin stated calmly as he moved to take a seat at the research table.

Of the group that watched him, not one failed to hear the inner alarm bells that were ringing loud and clear. The man appeared to be far too smug.

Buffy, never one to play with subtleties, threw down the gauntlet. "The Council doesn't have a role in this."

Quentin smiled coldly at the Slayer. "Our seers alerted us to the possibilities of this prophecy coming to fruition, Miss Summers, and while we may not have known who any of the other...er...champions may have been," he curled his lip in distaste at the use of the title as he spoke. "The demon with a soul has never been questioned and as this demon is in our custody you may find it difficult to fulfil this prophecy without the full co-operation of the Council."

The smile on the face of the head of the Council of Watchers faltered slightly when the group surrounding him began to laugh.

"My vote goes to Wolfram and Hart making the same ‘leap of stupid'," Xander grinned as he offered his opinion.

"Keeping him from his hair products is a sure way of making sure he never experiences that moment of happiness," Cordelia offered with a smirk.

"Okay, first, gotta say, the whole idea that you guys would try and stop this prophecy from being fulfilled just because we won't let you play with us kinda supports the whole idea of non-Council participation. Second; telling us that you've imprisoned a Powers-That-Be Champion doesn't really help you in the ‘trusting of' category. And third; having Angel doesn't actually give you any leverage, what with the whole him not being a part of the fourteen of prophecy deal." Buffy offered the elderly Englishman a look of mock sympathy.

"Go home, Quentin. I believe you will have a very long wait before the Slayer will deem the Council of being worthy to aid her in her duties ever again." Giles stated with cold formality.

~*~*~

Spike stared at the paper in front of him as it mocked him with its emptiness.

Doubt's crowded his mind as his insecurities rushed to the surface. It happened every time Buffy left him. While she was with him he was fine, if not a little bemused at her treatment of him, the novelty hadn't worn off yet. For either of them, his inner voice whispered fearfully. Spike had never been lucky in having his feelings returned to him and he couldn't help wondering when the axe would fall, when the novelty would wear off for her.

As his suspicions grew, he screwed up the paper in front of him and tossed it away in a fit of pique. He couldn't do it. He wasn't willing to open himself up to her and take the chance that it was all some sort of game to the Slayer, or scarier, the chance that it wasn't.

Standing abruptly, Spike began to pace. He was in a total quandary. He wanted to give her something special for her birthday, especially in light of what she had given him for Christmas - he was still cringing over the fact that all he'd given her in return had been a gift certificate for the Shoe Emporium - but he didn't want it to risk his heart. He didn't trust her.

Sighing deeply in frustration, Spike grabbed his coat and headed through the apartment door. Using the sewer entrance at the back of the art gallery storeroom that Giles had shown him, the blond master vampire made his way through the supernatural highway towards the hated Sunnydale Mall. There had to be something there that would be perfect for the Slayer's birthday...he hoped.

It wasn't until Spike reached the third floor gothic store that he found exactly what he had been looking for - a present that both William and his demon approved of.

He pocketed his beautifully gift wrapped purchase and moved to the escalators to make his way home, never once noticing the watching trio, consisting of a little redhead that was flanked by two brunettes, all wearing wickedly calculating grins.

~*~*~

Buffy looked at the two remaining gifts with a huge grin.

She couldn't believe how well her birthday was going. She'd taken the bull by the proverbial horns and called her father to suggest that he not try to juggle his ‘busy schedule' to include a trip to the Ice Capades when she'd be more than happy to settle for a pair of Manolo Blanik's from Rodeo Drive if it made things easier for him. She almost laughed out loud at the very obvious relief she heard in his voice.

This time around Buffy had been floored and moved beyond tears to still receive tickets to the Ice Show she'd missed all those years ago, but this time they had been offered as a gift from the father of her heart.

Giles had smiled hopefully when she opened the envelope, his smile widened when she squealed with glee and threw herself into his arms.

Xander and Anya had given her a replication of the weapons chest he had made for her in their original time, and Oz and Doyle had surprised her with a gift voucher for a day at a local spa.

Joyce had grinned when she gifted Buffy with the ownership papers for the gallery building with the proviso that the gallery itself and its storeroom would still be under her mother's control. "I had to sign the whole building over to you, honey. It was the only way we could keep it all under the protective barrier. I thought that once Giles and I were married you might want a place of your own." Joyce flicked her eyes briefly in Spike's direction before continuing. She knew that until Spike was fully a part of the team, they didn't have the luxury of speaking plainly in front of him. "The second part of your present is my funding your redecoration of the apartment."

Buffy's eyes glazed over briefly at the thought of sharing the apartment with her vampire. She mused that she would have to look into sound proofing.

The two remaining gifts were the one from Spike and the one from Cordelia, Willow, and Dawn.

Buffy reached for the smaller box wrapped in shiny black paper with blood red roses embossed on it and hesitantly fingered the matching card before opening it to see what her vampire had written.

Buffy blinked back tears as she placed the card in her pocket then began to carefully un-wrap her gift.

She gasped in delight as she gingerly reached for the object that lay delicately on a bed of crushed black tissue. The elegant black lace choker with its sensual blood red silk backing was adorned with a stunningly simplistic crystal and silver brooch. On closer inspection, Buffy noted that the crystal was subtly embellished with the image of a bat that had been carefully etched onto its surface. It was the perfect gift for a girl who just happened to be the Vampire Slayer.

"It's beautiful, Spike. Thank you," she offered softly as she leaned up to bestow a gentle kiss of appreciation and promise. She passed the choker to him then turned away and lifted her hair, subtly asking him to set it in place. Once he was done, the birthday girl happily modelled her gift before reaching for her final present.

Buffy's eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips in irritation at the unrepentant looks of amusement on the faces of the trio of interfering females. The red satin and black lace bustier, matching g-string, and garter belt were a perfect match to Spike's gift.

"Don't s'pose you're plannin' on modelling that, too, are you, pet?"