[Bella! I found out what you were following,] says Giles. [They're called Defenders. The knowledge required to make them was supposedly lost in the library at Alexandria, but apparently rumours of its demise were greatly exaggerated.]

[Okay, how do I kill them, and what day is it?]

[Tuesday. They will apparently dissolve on contact with a grain of sand from a particular mystical fountain. Sources disagree on which one, but all three candidates were destroyed upwards of six hundred years ago. Sherlock used a square and that worked fine.]

[...I don't suppose we can use a square to conjure this sand? I bet Sherlock tried that and it didn't work.]

[Sherlock tried that,] he confirms. [It didn't work.]

[Dammit. Okay. What sort of quantity are they likely to come in? I don't suppose either of you have actually had a look at the Hellmouth to see if I was right about there being lots?]

[They are not congregating at the Hellmouth, no. I checked. Sherlock has been guarding the body of the original by night and so far no one has shown up to claim it. But Defenders don't appear spontaneously, or act of their own will; someone created that one and told it to go wherever it was going.]

[Grand. That all we know?]

[Essentially, yes. Sherlock also reports that attempt to set the dead Defender on fire were unsuccessful.]

[I can fire-wand underwater, I might be able to fire-wand these things, it's still worth a try - but yeah, that's not encouraging.]

[There's nothing in the records about fire either way.]

[Has anything else unusual or demonic cropped up while I've been recovering from - what happened exactly? I remember jumping on it, it's a blur after that.]

[It threw you on the ground and stepped on you. Apparently that's all it took. And no, it's been quiet.]

[It stepped on me. Well, that's embarrassing.]

[You could say that, yes.]

[I do appreciate that if you are giggling right now you're at least polite enough not to brainphone it.]

[Not even slightly,] he assures her.

[The doctors are saying they want to keep me for observation for a week. I think I can convince Charlie to turn that into a day, or two, and then I can start combing the town for where it came from.]

[Good luck,] he sighs.

[Something wrong? Besides whoever's sending a Defender charging through Sunnydale?]

[You're in the hospital and I'm worried.]

[I'll be fine, it's just a headache at this point,] Bella says. [But thanks.]

Giles ahems uncertainly.

[Did you set out to find the Slayer without expecting her to land in the hospital at least now and then? I'm surprised I've made it this long.]

[Yes, actually. Slayers don't often make use of contemporary medical services.]

[...Huh. Why not? Do injuries usually fall into the categories "instantly fatal" and "shrugged off in hours"? If that's it I may owe Amariah a few extra paragraphs' worth of thank-yous for the bayleaf and its friends.]

[Yes, that's about the size of it.]

[If I'd died and there was a new Slayer now would you be involved with her or would they send someone else?] Bella asks curiously. [I assume she'd be easier to find than I was.]

[They would send someone else.]

[What would happen to you?]

She stops making him think about it. [I'll try to avoid getting stepped on again. I have a lot of squares and I'll use them if I have to, if we can't get any of the sand and they don't have other weaknesses. Are those Defender things at least difficult to make?]

[They were at the time, but no records of the process survive that I've heard of, so I don't know if that might have changed in the intervening millennia.]

[I don't suppose we know why that kind of sand dissolves them.]

[There's at least one separate theory for each of the candidate fountains. Demonologists with too much time on their hands have argued over it at length. I personally don't think there's enough information to support any of their conclusions.]

[Is there enough information to suggest any experiments on how to duplicate the effect? If there are - Powers forfend - a bunch of these, I'd rather not be down a hundred squares by the time I find the source of the problem if I could solve it with sand that was the right color or had the right ratio of diatoms in it.]

[About the only thing we're sure of is that it was a magical property,] he says apologetically.

[Well, that's irritating.] She sighs. [I think Sherlock's asleep now, do you know if he's been able to get in to visit me or not? I don't know what visiting hours are like here.]

[He hasn't mentioned anything.]

[Pleased to hear it,] says Jarvis.

[Do you know if Sherlock's been able to convince the hospital to let him visit at night or if he's tried or what?]

[He's been in to see you. I believe he skipped the wheedling step.]

[Ha. Should've guessed. They're talking about keeping me for a week, but the way I heal I'm betting I can get that down to a day or two. If I'm asleep when he wakes up will you let him know for me?]

[Of course.]

[Thanks. I'm gonna try napping off this headache now.]

[Good luck.]

Bella successfully sleeps. She wakes some three hours later, past dark, feeling significantly better.

She has a visitor!

"Hey you."

"Good morning. Feeling better?"

"Morning?" scoffs Bella. "But yeah, much better, I don't even have that headache anymore. It's probably even safe to hug me." She holds out her arms.

Ooh. Hug!

Indeed. "So we may need magic sand that we can't get, and we have a distinctly finite square supply but those work in a pinch, and if there are more Defenders running around we don't know where?" she says.

"Yes indeed."

"Isn't that just grand. Well, they'll let me out of here sooner or later and I can help you look."

"An excellent plan."

[...No, but I'm more worried,] he says. [Are they doing anything with the beehives? Are the bees behaving strangely?]

[The bees are behaving about like I expect bees in destroyed hives to act - they're buzzing around in great big clouds, being pissed off - and they don't seem to be using them for anything, just smashing them and moving on, but maybe they'll come around and collect the pieces or whatever, later?]

[It could be. But it's also possible that they are just... destroying beehives. In some mystical traditions, killing bees or destroying their hives symbolizes other kinds of destruction, especially agricultural.]

[...And does it take much for the symbol to turn into more widespread actuality?]

[I'm looking it up as we speak.]

[You are handy!] She continues to follow the Defenders as they proceed from hive to hive. [They're leaving the trees alone...]

[Definitely sounds like bee-killing to me.]

[Mmmhm. They're very mechanical about it. They run up to the first un-smashed hive, punch it for a minute, then run past all the others who've gone beyond them to get to the next un-smashed hive.]

[I'm finding references to bee-killing as a prelude to apocalyptic rituals,] he says. [Although usually it would be the future participants in the ritual who would kill the bees. How many did you say there were? Six?]

[I count six. There could be more I can't see from the road. I could drive into the grove if you need an accurate count.]

[I don't think that information would be worth the risk you'd take to get it.]

[Yeah, I'm not sure I could time it to not get in their way, although they do seem to quite ignore anything that doesn't get in their way and isn't a beehive.]

[The overall conclusion in the literature is that bee-killing is not a powerful activity by itself, but amplifies the power of certain kinds of malevolent magic.]

[Maybe I should just see if I can follow them home. I have more than six squares on me, if they turn on something other than the hives.]

[...I shouldn't feel the need to tell you to be careful, and yet.]

[I will be careful. I no longer expect to be able to maybe punch them into submission.]

[Good. Thank you.]

[...One way, you risk losing them; the other way, you risk spending a square you'll need later. How's your supply?]

[I've got hundreds. Shell Bell was here for a while. But only thirty on me right now.]

[I'm not sure,] says Giles. [I'm really not sure.]

[...Well, I just saw a sign saying the next rest stop is in twenty miles, so, I think I'll go with wishing some gas,] says Bella. [In the tank and I may as well fill up the back of the truck with cans of the stuff while I'm at it, if I can get it all on one square. If I head for the stop I'll lose them anyway. But I'll wait till I'm a little lower on fuel than this in case they're about to make a hard right and lead me to where they're going before I even need the fillup.]

[...All right,] he says. [Where are you exactly?]

Bella looks out for the next mile marker, names it. [On the Five.]

[And at what point should I contact emergency services if I don't hear from you?]

[Mmm, ping me by brainphone every ten minutes, if I don't answer you with even a "still alive" twice in a row I'm in some kind of trouble.]

[Will do.]

[Thanks! Also, consider asking directly for my dad - Chief Charlie Swan, "it's about his daughter" should get you past the dispatcher.]

[I'll remember that.]

[Where, exactly, do they go?]

[Away from the road. I'm following them deeper into the grove. They're still smashing hives as they pass them, but they changed direction, they were going along the road before.]

[I have no idea what that's about.]

[Don't jump in the hole,] he advises.

[Not planning on it. Sherlock can see in the dark, I think I'll hang out here until dark when he can come join me and peer into it.]

[Good plan.]

[Hello,] he brain-yawns.

Juliet summarizes the events of her afternoon. [Then they all jumped in the hole, and it's been all quiet since, and I didn't bring a flashlight and I'm not sure I can find this place again but I bet you can find me - maybe you can rent a car or if that's not an option I can ask Charlie if he can give you a ride, but that's a stretch, it'd be a long walk - oh, and bring me a can of gas - and have a look down here?]

[I don't think I can rent a car. I do think I can find you.]

[Do you need me to ask Charlie about a ride?]

[I think so, yes.]

[I will be there.]

Fifteen minutes later, Charlie arrives home in his police cruiser.

Sherlock is standing beside the end of the driveway, with a can of gas, a flashlight, and a lot of squares. The squares are mostly hidden about his person.

Charlie makes a motion of his head towards the backseat of the cruiser. "In you get."

In he gets.

"Yes I am."

"And you've been together with Bella for some time now."

"Yes I have."

"She's got a good head on her shoulders," says Charlie. "But I have wondered a few times if it's wise of her to be with you. Far as I know it hasn't proven a mistake yet."

"I think it's safe to say I have been an overall benefit."

"Mm. That's best for everyone," says Charlie. He leans just slightly on the every part.

[I believe your father is trying to intimidate me,] he says to Bella.

[Is it working? He did successfully shoot you one time.]

[I am unaffected,] he says, smiling slightly, [but my coat is cowering in terror.]

She giggles. [Aww. Poor Charlie. Don't let on too smugly.]

"Oh, yes. Thanks for the lift," he says cheerfully.

Sherlock laughs his way into the grove.

Bella's right where she's been sitting for the last forty-five minutes, and she hops out of the truck when Sherlock approaches to kiss him on the cheek and gesture at the hole in the ground.

"...Very deep, then?" She flicks on the flashlight and shines it down.

It's not so deep, at least in the visible part, but it curves away to a more horizontal inclination.

"I might be able to climb down that far enough to be able to walk down the slope," she says, unsure. "If I braced against opposite sides and was patient about it."

"I could do it. Getting out again would be the more interesting proposition."

Bella reaches into the hole and pats the sides. "Could gouge handholds in the side on the way down?"

"Potentially. If only I'd thought to bring a rope."

"I should've thought of it when I was telling you what to bring." She goes to pour the gasoline into her tank, thinking. "I didn't see any fallen orange branches, or anything, and those might not come in large enough sizes to help anyway."

"No, I don't believe they do."

Glug-glug-glug tank is full. Bella puts the spent can in the back of the truck. "Try the handhold-gouging idea and hope for a better exit to the place?"

"All right."

Bella stashes the flashlight in her bag, swings the bag around to rest on her back, and reaches into the hole. She digs her hands into the wall of it until a decently deep gouge has been made, and proceeds down rather gymnastically, using her bracing idea to make slow progress and often freeing up one hand to make new holds for the way back up. She makes it down to the sloping part, where she can stand, without incident, and flashlights into the tunnel.

Sherlock follows.

[Good plan.]

[...Definitely an apocalyptic ritual?] he says helplessly. [Er. Run?]

Sherlock kills the next two at the appropriate moment and scrambles up after her.

"I don't know if we have enough - what if we don't -" Wishwishwishwishwishwishwish the squares are disappearing like their very touch is anathema.

"We do," he says briefly. "Unless he makes more."

"What if he can," and she leaves off talking to go for her fire-wand, but as expected, it's useless; the Defender she's trying to burn ignores the fire, whether applied inside or out, however hot she makes it, until it gets close and she has to square it dead. The live ones are pulling the corpses aside to clear their path and they just keep coming. Wishwishwishwishwish -

"Kill him," Sherlock suggests.

"Do you know where he is? Did he follow them, can you hear him or smell him or anything -"

"Fire?" he suggests.

"Not sure yet."

Wish. Wish. Wish. Wish. God, there's so many. "I have never been more annoyed than I am right now that Shell Bell didn't invite me to break her arm for one - damn - pentagon -" Wish wish wish wish wishwishwishwishwish.

"Or he's protected from fire somehow - But I have to know where to send the fire and I don't know which way the tunnels turn -"

"I could make a try for him," Sherlock offers. "These things could make my life very unpleasant but they'd have a hard time actually killing me unless they managed to pull my head off."

"But they could probably do that. One of them carelessly stepping on me would probably've killed me if it weren't for Amariah's work." Wishwishwishwish -

"Of the two of us I'm still better suited to make the attempt if we run out of squares."

"If we run out," agrees Bella.

Bella concentrates her efforts on the direction in which their master supposedly hides, so it will be safe for Sherlock to make a break for it while she covers them on the other side sooner.

Sherlock keeps going for the nearest Defenders, because it won't do them any good if they clear a path in one direction and get clobbered from the other.

He leaps out in the other direction and flings himself down a tunnel that doesn't presently have a Defender climbing out of it.

There is a Defender on its way to rectifying that situation!

It makes a grab for him, but this isn't its lucky day. It does turn and chase him, though.

It can do that if it likes. Sherlock bets he is faster.

That was a poor time to deliver insults.

[Yes I did,] he says. [Now I will see about climbing out.]

[Can you get to the original tunnel, with the handholds, or should I drive home and get you rope?]

"You're okay," she sighs. "I'm so glad you're okay. I love you."

"I am glad I'm okay too," he says, hugging her a little harder.

Brilliant plan. Sherlock supports it fully.

Eventually, he gets around to mentioning, "I love you too."

"Thought you might. You've been calling me 'love' offhandedly for months now. Didn't quite have the nerve to inquire outright though."

Kisses kisses kisses. "I should call Charlie probably," she mumbles against Sherlock's mouth after a few minutes more, "tell him all's well."

"Yes," he agrees. "And we should refrain from kissing while you do that."

"Well," says Juliet innocently. "I figured I'd give you a ride home, first, and who knows how long that could take." She hops up to her feet and behind the wheel.

"Who, indeed."

Sherlock is grinning all the way home.

"I did recently get out of the hospital, so I don't know if it'd be wise for dessert to be had so soon," Bella says. "But we're creative people. I'm sure we can fill the time."

"There are many possible alternatives," he agrees brightly.

"Let's." She sighs. Kiss. "I love you. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, love."

[Yes. You solved the problem, I take it?]

[Yeah. We thinned out the Defenders enough that I could draw off most of the rest and Sherlock got past the others to kill the person controlling them, and then they all disintegrated. But we have literally two squares left.]

[...Then I hope no one else figures out how to make Defenders.]

[Or that I get ahold of mint powers before someone does. This is a problem. Jarvis can make doors to Milliways whenever; I'm going to start asking him to make me one once or twice a day in case that improves my odds of running into one of the mints.]

[Good idea.]

[Did we at least interrupt something that was worth all those squares to stop? Does a guy with a couple thousand Defenders dancing in rings around him underground after having them smash up some beehives amount to world-destroying business?]

[Yes,] he says. [It absolutely does.]

[What would motivate someone who lives in a world to destroy it?] Bella asks, bewildered.

[I have no idea,] says Giles. [And yet, they keep trying.]

[At approximately what frequency?]

[Oh, once every few years,] he says. [Most of them wouldn't succeed even if they weren't stopped, of course.]

[I think I know why there are so many worlds similar to ours out in the multiverse,] says Bella dryly as she pulls up to her house. [I think if there weren't about a billion to start with, by now there'd be zero, so the fact that I've met representatives from two nearby worlds while the others all seem to be special snowflakes just means that at least Sunshine-type worlds have not yet dwindled to nothing.]

...Giles lets out a snort of laughter over the brainphone.

[I'm going to bed. I'm beat. Thanks for all your help with looking up of things!] says Bella.

[It's what I'm here for,] he says. [Goodnight.]