TITLE: 'Out of Africa' 8/?
AUTHOR: Pythia
E-MAIL: pythia@tiscali.co.uk
DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television and the UPN Television Network. The story is written for the pleasure of the author and readers, and has no lucrative purpose whatsoever. Please do not reproduce this story anywhere without the author's consent.

POSTING NOTES: *.* is for emphasis. {.} denotes thought and [.] implies translation from another language.

"Her name is Lilithu. Asha Lilithu, the mother of eternal hungers."

Wesley laid down the relevant volume of the Watcher's diaries, opening it to a page that carried a sketch of the missing statue. Which wasn't a statue at all, but a demoness - and had been all along.

"Whoa," Xander reacted. "Nothing like saying what you mean with your labels. Eternal hungers, huh? Sounds pretty vampy to me."

"That's her." Buffy reached out to trace the coil of one tattoo, recalling the intricate pattern and how it had gleamed against her skin, even in the dark. "That's exactly what she looked like."

"Yes," Wesley breathed, looking vaguely embarrassed. "Well - it seems that Giles was right. And we've been looking in the wrong places, so far."

"Gee," Xander drawled sourly. "Ya think?" He threw a smug look at Cordelia, who made a point of ignoring him. "Mark one up to Watcher number one," he said, sharing the thought and a knowing smile with Buffy. "Ahead on points, even when he's out for the count."

The smile Buffy found to answer him was twisted. She didn't think *anyone* was ahead on points. Not with this creature lurking somewhere, waiting for night to fall. "Xander," she said anxiously, "this - demoness - is dangerous. Giles said we should be careful. Do you think," she asked, addressing the question to Wesley, who was nodding his agreement to her assessment, "she's the one that killed Eva - and Gregory?"

"Hard to say." Watcher number two pulled the book towards him, skimming the text with his eyes. "Giles might know …" He broke off, grimacing as he remembered the difficulty with *that* statement. "But - since he's hardly in a position to tell us just at the moment, I shall simply have to investigate further. I'm not as familiar with this section of the diaries as he would seem to be, but it looks as if this entry is one of several Gregory Webber made shortly he before he died. As far as I can make out, they brought the statue back from Somalia - and it vanished shortly after it was unpacked from its crate. A man died - they thought killed by the thief. Then, these animal like vampires began attacking the village, and Eva saw Lilithu in the castle. Webber seemed to think that the text on the Utren tablet held the key to who and what she was. But his translations aren't in the diaries."

"Should they be?" Buffy's stomach held an anxious, unhappy knot. She had a bad feeling about all of this. She knew how to deal with the average vampire; you knocked them around a bit and then staked them. But she had no idea how to deal with this one. Statues that get up and walk around were bad enough - but statues that turned into evil, magic wielding *vamps*, confident enough to attack a Watcher right under his Slayer's nose … That one wasn't listed in her handy 'how to' guide. She suspected it wasn't listed in the handbook either. "Not necessarily." Wesley was still skipping through Webber's entries, trying to glean what he could without spending time on the detail. "If he intended to publish, he'd have been making separate notes. The tablet's in the exhibition, isn't it, Buffy?"

"Yes. Albrecht showed it to us. But he didn't have a translation. He said - they *think* all of Gregory's papers were sent back to England with his body."

Wesley nodded abstractedly. "They may be in the Council's archives," he said. "I'll give them a call. If they find them they can fax me a copy. It'll save a lot of time."

"Great," Xander said, sitting up with confidence. "You go get the answers, Buffy goes a couple of rounds to soften her up, quick stake, and *tada* - this bitch is history. Again. Possibly." He thought about what he was saying. "It's not going to be that easy, is it?"

"No," Buffy answered, shaking her head. "I can't kill her - not until I know what she's done to Giles. How to *un*do it."

"If it can *be* undone," Xander muttered uncomfortably. Buffy shivered at the thought.

"This just *so* doesn't make any sense," Cordelia decided, leaning over Wesley's shoulder so she could get a better look at the pictures in the book. "I mean - shells and wooden beads? Come *on*. If I were this - powerful sorceress, demon thing, first thing *I'd* do is hit the mall. Update my wardrobe a little."

"Uh - Cordy?" Buffy wasn't sure she wanted to point this out, but… 'Those are teeth and bones, not beads."

"Whatever," Cordelia shot back. "I'd still want to go shopping."

"She may be right." Wesley had been frowning over the entry in the diary. "Webber says the first place her hell spawn attacked was the village square. There was some kind of festival event that night. Six people were killed." He looked up with concern. "You might want to change your patrol pattern, Buffy. Go where the people are."

She nodded. "I'm on it. What we really need to do is find her lair. But if she's siring children - sending them out to hunt - we have to stop that first. I'll - uh - find Angel, see if he can help."

"Good idea." Wesley put down the book and stood up. "I'll get onto the Council, see what I can find out."

"Yeah," Xander agreed, getting to his feet in turn. "And I'm off to take up Giles watch. I'll send Will and Oz back to help with the research thing."

Buffy watched him leave, the cold knot in her stomach tightening with inevitability. Willow had promised to call if anything had changed. The fact that she hadn't was supposed to be comforting - but all it really meant was that nothing *had* changed. That Giles was still fighting for his life, and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing more than she was doing, that is.

"Buffy?" Wesley's question was concerned. "Are you all right? You look a little - pale."

She pulled herself together with an effort and found him a wan smile. "No, no, I'm fine. Really. I just - hate all this waiting around."

He returned the smile with a hesitant one of his own. "Has to be done. The research, I mean. Can't send you into battle uninformed."

"Yes, I know. Forewarned is forearmed. Giles is always telling me that …"

It was only *then* that she realised the reason for Lilithu's bold attack. It hadn't been just to send a message of warning and contempt. She'd struck at the one person who - in normal circumstances - was there to arm the Slayer for the fight. Without a Watcher - or *someone* - to help investigate the clues and unravel the information she needed, she'd have been fighting blind. The vampire thought that she was crippled. Helpless.

She didn't know about the Scooby Gang.

Or that *this* Slayer happened to have a Watcher in reserve …

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"You will go - and you," Lilithu decided, smiling at two of her eager children, who snarled and snapped with excitement at being picked. It would be a sacrifice, since she sent them to play with the Slayer - who would, no doubt, be angry and determined, striking out with a hurting heart. But she could spare two. Three more of her spawning had crept to join her as the sun had sunk beneath the horizon. One she had sent to gather her a source of sustenance. Two would stay to guard the lair - while *these* two would wreak havoc and sow terror, just the way she liked it.

"Find a place of merriment and music," she suggested. "Try not to kill the Slayer. I have other plans for her. But take as many you like of the rest. Strike swiftly, and kiss deep. There will be blood tonight."

They howled with pleasure - and left at a loping run, eager and willing to serve her will. She smiled after them in the dark, then turned and made her way back into her inner chamber.

The corpse lay where she had left it, the smoke of her sorcery wreathed around it like a shroud. It would not be long now. She had ripped him from his flesh and laughed at his struggles to resist her. He was lost in her wreaking, and soon - very soon - the spell would be done, and he would be hers completely.

"They flutter and they panic, like moths against a flame," she murmured, kneeling next to the corpse and retracing the symbols she had painted on its flesh. "They fight the agony of the flesh when the spirit is already lost to them. Foolish, hopeless physicians. *I* am the giver of life and death; in *my* hands lies the fate of the world."

Her palm splayed out, covering the shimmer of the amulet, and she smiled at the shiver of desperate pain it painted against her skin. The serpent had him tight within its coils and there was no way he could escape. Not now. He was drowning in her power. All she had to do was wait.

He would come.

And then the real work would begin.

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