"So how many sheets did we murder for *this* ritual?" Buffy asked as she selected a white robe out of the box that Giles had brought forward shortly after eleven.
"I’ll have you know that these are top-quality robes," Giles huffed. "I had them on order before all this started. With all the witches in Sunnydale, I do better business at Beltane than a candy shop at Halloween."
"Yeah? Where did you order them from, Big Thor’s Pagan Supplies for Trucks?" Buffy asked, holding up her arms—from which roughly an extra foot of empty sleeve hung.
"Take off that extra-large, give it to Riley, and find a small," He snapped. No one insulted his merchandise. "Did you think these were one size fits all?" Instead of giving the robe to anyone, she just tossed it back to him with a smirk, and began to dig in the box again. "I’d have thought you’d be grateful," he muttered. "After all, this ritual is somewhat similar to traditional Wiccan and Druidic ceremonies—or *they’re* somewhat similar to *it*, it’s hard to tell. In any case, our options were white robes or skyclad."
She looked up at him quizzically. "Skyclad?"
"Naked," Tara supplied calmly as she held a small robe against her front, changed her mind, and went back for a medium.
Buffy looked at Giles, her eyes wide.
Smirking, he nodded.
Buffy bent her head back to the task at hand and began to dig through the robes more frantically. "I’ll take the robes," she said.
"I thought you might."
*
"Hey, Wes!"
Wesley jumped. He’d been walking the circle of the sacred dell with his copy of the Elysian Prophecies in hand, double-checking their preparations, and he hadn’t been paying attention to anything else.
In a reaction that had nearly become a reflex in his time with Angel, he snapped around toward the source of the sound and whipped a knife out of the belt-sash of his robe.
Unfortunately, the knife was an athame that Giles had given him "on the house" for the ceremony. It was thus unsharpened and rather useless as a weapon.
Fortunately, Faith and Gunn had little intention of harming him.
"Whoa!" Faith said, holding up her hands as they both leaped back. "Better switch to some decaf Earl Grey, there, Wes."
"I’m sorry," Wesley apologized, blushing invisibly in the dimness. "You startled me."
"It’s dangerous to surprise *anyone* in this group, isn’t it?" Gunn asked. "What should I do, blow a horn in front of me?"
"That might actually be wise," Wesley said, slipping the athame back into his belt.
Not for the first time, Gunn cursed Wesley’s absolute straight-faced, deadpan sense of humor. It was impossible to tell when the man was joking or not. He wondered if it was a British trait, or if Wesley was weird even over there.
"What’cha doin’?" Faith asked.
"Just double-checking," Wesley said, returning to the Prophecies.
"Isn’t it called ‘octuple-checking’ after this many times?" Faith asked innocently.
Wesley turned and gave them the evil eye, but the two miscreants just smiled back.
"She’s right," Gunn agreed, pointing at Faith. "You got a real obsessive-compulsive thing going here."
"Oh, yes," Wesley said sourly. "I know it’s quite silly of me to wish to be prepared when our ‘greatest foe’ arrives. I do apologize for it. You must think me a lunatic. But indulge me anyway."
"Jeez, no need to bite our heads off," Faith said.
Gunn had been reminded of something by Wesley’s rant. "Do we have any suspects on ‘the Horned One’ yet?" He asked.
"Far too many," Wesley replied absently, kneeling to examine a crystal that had been positioned in the notch between two rocks that had once been one—which were in the exact location and position that the Prophecy said they would be. This thing was scary.
"Yeah," Faith agreed. "I bet a lot of demons have horns."
"A lot of demons, several gods, and at least one angel."
"Gods?" Faith said. "Yeesh. Do they give any easy ones?"
"Not that they bother to write prophecies about."
"Well, I guess a god would count as our greatest foe," Gunn said.
"Why do you assume that the ‘Horned One’ is our foe at all?" Wesley said. "For all we know, the Horned One could be coming to *help* us with out greatest foe. All we know for sure is that they’re both arriving tonight."
"Good point," Gunn agreed.
"Prophecies are tricky things," Wesley said. "But here’s a question for you: in the past week we’ve defeated Belial, one of the most powerful beings in existence. We’ve also destroyed Angelus, the enemy who cast his shadow on all of our lives for years. If neither of them were our greatest foe, then who is?"
Wesley stood up and turned back to them, and for the first time he realized just how young they looked, with their customary armorlike leather covered up by the soft robes. "Think about it," He said. "I know I am."
*
"Do I really have to do this?" Buffy whined.
"I’m afraid no one else can," Giles replied.
"Fine, fine," Buffy surrendered. "Please tell me that the prophecy doesn’t rule out cue cards."
"No," Giles deadpanned, handing her a stack of index cards. "It doesn’t."
"Thanks," she said sarcastically, shuffling through them. "Tell me again why I’m stuck with the public speaking?"
"Not all of it," Giles said. "And it’s because you’re our queen."
"But my mother is not only alive, she’s right *here*," Buffy protested. "Shouldn’t I be a princess?"
Giles shook his head. "A leader is the person who does the leading. All of us—even she, even I—have come to obey your orders more often than we try to give them. That makes your mother the dowager queen, and you the actual ruler."
"I’m going to tell her you said that."
"Please don’t. She’s far too young a woman to be a ‘dowager’."
"If you say so." Then an idea struck her, and her face brightened. "What about a king? Shouldn’t there be a king out there, doing most of the talking?"
Giles shook his head, grinning ruefully. Why couldn’t she be this resourceful in her studies? "There were some societies in the ancient world where the king was nothing more than the consort of the queen. Strangely enough, I think our little society is much the same."
Though they hadn’t noticed it while it was happening, they both suddenly realized that the area where they stood speaking had become much brighter. The others had lit the great fire.
Giles glanced at his watch. They couldn’t depend on Angel’s instincts to guide them this time. Unlike dawn, midnight felt no different to him than it did to anyone else. Thus: watches. It seemed surreal, even for them, to count down to an occult ritual on a digital watch with Indiglo™.
"Come along, then," Giles said. "It’s time."
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