The last road to the convent was marked at the turnoff with a weathered wooden shrine shielding a statue of a figure in a hooded monk's robe holding a chalice. Anya hopped off the bus to investigate.

"It's St. Eugene all right," she called. "You can just make out the extra set of arms."

She climbed back on, and Xander put the bus in gear.

The new road was rough and narrow, forcing them to go slow. "Did anyone notice if this thing has a spare tire?" Xander asked as he nursed the bus across a wash-out filled with large rocks.

"Yes," came an English voice from the back.

"And a jack?"

There was silence from the back, and Anya shrugged. "If we wait till after dark, two vampires would make a good jack."

Xander laughed. "Vampires, no toolbox should be without one."

They opened several windows to let fresh, outdoorsy air in. Buffy leaned out for a better view of the passing trees and the mountains beyond.

"Mr. Bus Driver!" Willow yelled. "Buffy's sticking her head out the window!"

Buffy turned and glared. "Mom, Willow's a tattle-tale." She stuck her tongue out at Willow.

Willow pouted. "Buffy's being mean!"

Xander scowled into the driver's mirror. "If you kids don't settle down back there, I'm going to pull this bus over and make you all walk."

Dawn grinned. "Somebody's letting the power go to their head."

Joyce tried to look stern. "Buffy, don't be mean to Willow. Willow, no one likes a tattle-tale. Play nice, both of you."

The two put on their best innocent faces until she turned away, then they both stuck their tongues out at each other at the exact same moment, causing identical giggles. Tara gently touched the corner of Willow's smile, making Willow turn and hug her.

Buffy watched a moment, thinking only how sweet they looked together, then she turned back to the scenery outside the window. The air was cool, smelling the way those pine-scented cleaners wanted you to think was outdoorsy. When she'd first arrived in Sunnydale, she'd thought that was clean air, especially after Los Angeles. At night in the cemeteries, away from the streets, she'd been able to smell the grass and the trees, but even then there was the underlay of the town- -and the death and the blood and the dust. It was surprising how long it took her to learn to hold her breath when a vampire went poof.

Another deep breath of the forest air dispelled that thought. Sunlight. She didn't get out in the sunlight enough anymore. And, boy, was it nice to look at something other than buildings and tombstones and monsters. There was even still snow on those mountains in the distance. When was the last time she'd been in snow? Oh. Yes. She blinked fast, dispelling more thoughts and memories, of a slow walk through a miraculous dawn, of cool fingers entwined with hers, of a tall figure that, despite all sense, made her feel safe.

Cool, clean air, smelling of trees, the sound of tires crunching over the dirt and rocks, snowy mountains in the distance--an armored figure on horseback a hundred yards away, watching the bus go by.

"Hey!"

Xander hit the brakes. "What!"

"No! Keep going, keep going!" Buffy ran to the back windows of the bus, which had not been painted over. "It's one of those Knights of Byzantium guys! He's out there, watching!"

"Here?" Giles said from under the seats. "That's impossible! They couldn't possibly have followed us, not if they're on horseback!"

Spike scrambled out from cover and went to the back window, shielding his face as well as he could. "Where?"

Buffy pointed. "Back there, by that big dead tree."

Spike squinted to see. "Can spot a mouse at a hundred yards in the dark," he muttered, "damned light makes it hard. Yeah, there he is. He's riding off. Do you see any others, pet?"

Buffy scanned the landscape. "I don't see anything. What was he doing?"

"Might have been a scout. But how the hell they could have found us--" A jarring pothole knocked him off balance. He caught himself against the window, then yanked his hand back, swearing.

"Are you all right?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah, yeah." He shook his hand, which was smoking just a little, then put a couple of fingers in his mouth. "Where the hell did the bastard go," he muttered, peering out the window.

Buffy stared at him. Would the old Spike, the pre-chip Spike, have dismissed a brush with sunlight so simply? Would that Spike have come on such a dangerous trip? But that Spike had come to her, his mortal enemy, in the first place to propose an alliance against Angelus.

A wise Slayer, one who had read and learned the handbook, would slip out that stake that was nestled in her sleeve and slam it into the back of the vampire who was paying more attention to what was outside the windows than to anything else, especially the Slayer at his back. It was a little insulting, being that dismissed Slayer. Sure, she wasn't supposed to know he was fully back in the game, but he didn't have to make such a point of the fact that he trusted her . . .

He looked over his shoulder and caught her watching him. He started to smirk, but it faded. "What?"

"Manchester United and dog racing, right? That's why you're here?"

He met her eyes easily. "No. You know why I'm here." He looked at her a moment longer, then headed back up the aisle. "It was one of those Knights all right, Ripper. How could they have tracked us?"

With much rustling and muttering, Giles sat up between the seats, wincing slightly at the brighter light. "They do have magical resources, but they're determinedly anti-technology. They couldn't possibly have kept up with us, even if they had known where we were going. And I only thought of it--" He glanced at his watch "--a bit over twelve hours ago."

Willow turned over the back of her seat to join the conversation. "There's divination, scrying. They might have read the future."

Giles frowned. "True divination requires a great deal of power."

"Could you have done it?" Buffy asked Willow, who thought a moment, then shrugged.

"Does it matter how they did it?" Spike said. "They're here, they're onto us. What do we do?"

Xander had been splitting his attention between the road and the debate. "Mark this down as a sure sign of apocalypse, but I agree with bleach-for-brains. What do we do?"

"How much farther?" Giles asked.

"According to the directions you gave me, another three miles."

Giles looked at Buffy. "I say we keep going. The place has walls, and the Knights may respect its sanctuary."

She shrugged. "I don't have any other ideas. We keep going, Xander." He nodded and put all his attention back on the road.

Willow frowned at Giles. "If this is holy ground, won't you and Spike have trouble?"

"I don't think so. It might be uncomfortable in their chapel, what with the crucifix and such, but the grounds themselves should be safe." He glanced at Spike for confirmation.

"Never stopped me," Spike said. "And the poof quite enjoyed strolling convent grounds. He'd challenge me to see if I could get as close the altar as he could." He remembered his audience. "Though that's probably not something that we want to discuss where we're going."

"No," Buffy agreed. "Probably not." She went back up to sit behind Dawn and her mother.

He met her eyes easily. "No. You know why I'm here."

Oh, connie. Oh oh oh oh oh.

More, please!

Oh, connie, that was nice. I'd forgotten all about those pesky knights in my tension waiting for glory to appear.

"It's St. Eugene all right," she called. "You can just make out the extra set of arms."

Snerk!

I'm loving this, connie. It just keeps getting better and better.

connie, it just gets better.

Small nitpick: would it be monastery, rather than convent? Convent makes me think nuns, not monks. Are there monks?

yup, convent is for nuns, monastery is for monks... and why does that word look misspelled?

There will be nuns. I've wondered the precise difference myself, beween monastery and convent. Is there someone more expert in the subtleties of Catholicism about who can clear this up? I've always wondered if the difference has to do with the degree of cloisteredness, with how connected they still are with the world.

I'm pretty sure it's just a male-female separation.

Based on a quick Google and no more, I think the "convent = women / monastery = men" divide is the main, possibly only, one. It may be more complex than that, but I can't find an explanation at the moment.