FIC; "Encounter" (2/?)

[JDMeans@xxxxxxx]

Hey gang! Betcha thought I forgot this story! Well, I haven't. Enjoy.

Disclaimers; The Joss Posse at Mutant Enemy own Buffy and crew. Disney hasa 
lock on the Gargoyle characters. Yep, it's the third episode of "Defenders 
of the Night". Enjoy.

Rating; PG-13. About the same level of action you'd see in a typical episode 
of either Buffy or Gargoyles.

Archives; Go for it, just let me know where and when, and spell my name 
right.

Feedback; I'm still here at JDMeans@xxxxxxx

Summary; Buffy meets a new ally and a powerful new enemy while investigating 
a werewolf-like attack.  


Defenders of the Night
Encounter
By Kirayoshi


Chapter Two
Meeting of Minds

"Oh East is East and West is West and never the twain shall meet,
Until Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great judgement seat.
But there be neither East nor West, border nor breed nor birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the 
earth."
--Rudyard Kipling
"The Ballad of East and West"

"Hello, honey," David Xanatos spoke from his hotel suite at the Regency 
Hotel.

"Hey, babe," the sultry voice flowed from the phone speaker. "Miss me?"

"Every day, Fox," David answered, "and as soon as my business in Sunnydale is 
over, I'll be in a better position to demonstrate how much."

"Can't wait, David. How's the construction going?"

"We break ground tomorrow," David announced. "I have confidence in the 
foreman for the project. Xander Harris reminds me of myself at that age."

"You mean he's young, cocky and his name starts with an 'X'?"

"That too," David chuckled. "I'm still waiting to meet Miss Summers."

"So your real business in Sunnydale can begin?"

"Exactly." He didn't bother to say anymore, both he and his wife knew what 
was at stake if the Slayer didn't agree to help him. "So," he spoke after a 
beat, "how are things in New York?"

"Smooth as silk, David," Fox answered. "Xanatos Industries posted gains on 
both the NYSE and NASDAQ reports this week."

"I read that in the financial section today," David said. "I want the 
important news. How's Alexander?"

"He's doing very well." David could swear he heard Fox smile over the phone. 
"I spoke with his second-grade teacher the other day, and he's excelling in 
his classes."

"He's a smart kid, our son," David bragged quietly.

"Yeah, too smart," Fox replied. "He knows something is up. Something big.  
He misses his Daddy." In a hushed, passionate whisper, Fox added, "So does 
his Mommy."

"And I miss you both, Fox. If my concerns in Sunnydale weren't so vital…"

"But they are, honey," Fox conceded. "You do what you gotta do, and I'll 
hold down the fort here in Manhattan. I love you, David."

"Oh, so that's why you married me," David joked.

"The fact that you're worth billions was also a strong incentive," Fox fired 
back.

David was grateful for the ability to laugh, even in the face of deadly 
danger. "I love you too, honey. I'll talk to you tomorrow." After a final 
exchange of romantic pleasantries, David hung up the phone. Sitting quietly 
in his suite, he contemplated his plans. With Xanatos Industries expanding 
in California, he would have to shuttle between his corporate HQ in Manhattan 
and a new office in Sunnydale. That would put a strain on his marriage, he 
knew that. But he vowed to make his family his top priority, no matter what 
happened.

It was the other reason for his being in Sunnydale that concerned him. His 
real reason.

Buffy.

He stepped out on the balcony, admiring the view of the city below him. A 
peaceful silence descended over the buildings and residences of Sunnydale, a 
peace that David knew to be a lie. There was a war going on down there, a 
war for the lives and souls of every man, woman and child who lived. A war 
being fought by one remarkable young woman.

A war that was now being joined by a different breed of warrior.

A familiar winged shadow overhead caught David's eye. He glanced up and saw 
the dark form swooping toward the balcony. He backed away, allowing the 
winged figure to alight next to him. No matter how many times he saw it, he 
was still amazed at how such a powerful being could glide so gracefully and 
land so effortlessly. But then, it was the nature of the species.

As the figure touched down on the balcony and folded his wings about him, 
David greeted his guest. "So, Goliath, how was the patrol?"

"Eventful, Xanatos," Goliath spoke in a low rumble. "I encountered the 
Slayer."

David nodded slowly; he had been expecting this eventually. "How did it go?"

"She was skeptical," Goliath answered. "But I believe I piqued her interest. 
I gave her the card for the Regency hotel, and told her to meet me here 
tomorrow evening."  

He paused for a moment, long enough for David to become curious. "Something 
else, old friend?"

Goliath turned to face David. "She fought against Wolf."

"Wolf?" David gasped. "That idiot mercenary? Don't tell me that he's 
working for…"

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised," Goliath shrugged his broad shoulders in 
thought. "After all, he goes where the money is." Stepping toward the edge 
of the balcony, Goliath let his wings spread to his sides. "I'm going to 
patrol again. Wolf raked Buffy's face, and I gave her some ointment for her 
cuts, but if she is sensible, she will return home to rest."

"Can't let the local nightlife get uppity, can we?" David observed.

"As long as I am here," Goliath said simply as he prepared to take off again, 
"Sunnydale falls under my protection." With those words, he leapt off the 
balcony, allowing the prevailing winds to bear him aloft as he flew away.

David watched with awe and confidence as Goliath flew to face the evils of 
the Sunnydale night. "Give 'em Hell, Big guy!"

<<>>

"…In local news, construction began today for the new Xanatos West computer 
company headquarters. Electronics pioneer David Xanatos, seen here with 
project foreman Alexander Harris…"

"There's Xander!" Anya squealed with pride as the television news showed 
Xander shaking hands with the young billionaire.  

"Mr. Xanatos is a lot shorter than he looks on TV," Xander commented, only to 
be shushed by Giles.  

"…the new computer company will provide hundreds of new jobs in thefield of 
electronics, and is considered a boon to the economic expansion of Sunnydale. 
In other news..[click]"

"Project foreman," Giles mused aloud. "I must say, you have progressed in 
your construction firm."

"Yeah," Xander blushed at Giles' rare demonstration of praise. "Mr. Brubaker 
was busy with expansion of the Sunnydale Mall, so he left me in charge of 
Xanatos West. Pretty heavy stuff, but hey, after the Mayor, Adam and Glory, 
this is cake!" Hugging Anya to him, he added, "besides, with the baby on the 
way, we need the money."

"And since you haven't been forthcoming with the raises," Anya remarked, 
casting a sidelong glance at Giles, who suddenly scowled at his employee.

"Uh, Anya," Xander took his fiancée aside for a moment, "what did I tell you 
about tact in financial matters?" Anya glared hard and Xander, who rolled 
his eyes. Turning to Giles, he added, "Morning sickness."

"And that's another thing," Anya chimed in. "Why do they call it morning 
sickness if I've got it all day?"

Before Giles could answer that question, the front door wind chimes tinkled.  
Giles emerged from the back room, watching as Buffy, Willow and Dawn strolled 
into the shop. Willow spoke in worried tones to her best friend; "Are you 
sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Willow," Buffy answered. "He just clawed me, he didn't bite me.  
I'm not gonna go all 'grr' on the next full moon."

"Wait a minute," Giles interrupted, "what happened? Did you encounter that 
werewolf creature from the other night again?"

"Yeah," Buffy answered. "Got clawed a little, but no serious damage."

Dawn looked at Giles, a slight pall of worry lining her features. "Does 
being clawed by a werewolf mean the same thing as being bitten, Giles?"

"No, Dawn, it doesn't," Giles assured the girl. "If Watchers' Council 
research is correct, the catalyst for transformation is found in a werewolf's 
saliva. The claws may hurt like Hell, but that's about all." Dawn and 
Willow breathed a sigh of relief.

Buffy continued, "But that's not the main thing that happened last night."  
Before she could continue, Xander and Anya emerged from the backroom, 
presumably from a brief make-out session. "Hey, Buffaroo Bonsai," Xander 
greeted his friend. "What's the good word?"

"Gargoyle." Buffy answered simply.

The other Scoobs looked at each other, measuring Buffy's last statement.  
Finally Anya glanced at Xander, asking, "Is Gargoyle a good word?"

Xander cocked an eyebrow quizzically. "Well, if you have the letters G, A, 
R, G, O, Y, and L, and there's a free E on the board."

"Don't forget the fifty point bonus for using all your letters on one turn," 
Willow offered.

"And if you hit a triple word score," Anya added.

"Uh, Guys," Buffy interrupted, "can we get back to the gargoyle situation?" 
As the others quieted down and gathered around the meeting table, Buffy made 
her announcement. "Last night, I confronted the werewolf, and he was one 
tough customer. Then this big purple dude came down from the sky and landed 
on the wolf. He kicked him around some, then gave me some ointment for my 
cuts. He said he was a gargoyle, and his name was Goliath."

"Goliath the Gargoyle?" Xander snickered. "I don't buy that, and I'm engaged 
to an ex-demon!"  

Buffy smirked at Xander for a moment before turning to Giles. "Does the 
Council have any info on gargoyles?"

"Precious little, I'm afraid," Giles admitted. "About the only thing that is 
widely known about gargoyles is that they are extinct."

"I'll tell Goliath you said that," Buffy quipped. "I think he'll be 
disappointed to hear that."

"Wait," Willow asked suddenly. "You're meeting him again?"

"He gave me his card," Buffy opened her purse and fished out the card that 
Goliath had given her the previous night. "He wants to meet me at the 
Regency Hotel tonight."

"A rich demon," Xander commented. "That's new. So, we need to plan some 
defense against this guy, right?"

"I dunno, Xand," Buffy demurred, "he did help me out last night."

"Spike's helped out before," Xander argued, "but I still keep my stakes in 
reach whenever he's in the room."

"Uh, guys," Dawn tried to interrupt.

"You say this guy can fly?" Willow asked. "Then I could locate a 
vertigo-spell, something to upset his balance."

"Guys.."

"Hey, I still don't know whose side he's on," Buffy answered, "but he did 
come to my rescue."

"Yeah, but still," Xander started, but was interrupted by an 
eardrum-shattering blast. The Scoobs clamped their hands to their ears and 
ground their teeth until the blast subsided. For a minute after the wailing 
noise stopped, Buffy's ears still rang from the sudden noise. Buffy and the 
others glared hard at Dawn, who was holding a compressed air horn in her 
hand.  

Buffy scowled at her sister. "How long have you been hauling that monster 
around, Dawn?"

"Just a few weeks, Buffy," Dawn admitted, suddenly squirming under the 
intense scrutiny of five pairs of angry eyes. "I take it with me at night 
whenever I have to be out late. Chases vamps away faster than holy water."  

Buffy stepped toward Dawn, snatching the air-horn from her hand. "We'll 
discuss this later," she glowered at her mollified sister. "Now, is there 
some reason you were trying to deafen us?"

"Sorry, Buffy," Dawn admitted as the others eased off on their stares. "It's 
just when you guys get into research mode, it's hard to get a word in 
edgewise. Anyway, when you started talking about gargoyles, it reminded me 
about that report I wrote on the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris."

"I remember that," Buffy nodded. "What was your grade on that, anyway?"

"An A-Minus," Dawn beamed. "Mr. Swanson ticked it down for a few syntax 
errors. Anyway, when I was researching for the report, I read a lot about 
some of the sculptures and such on the building. Around the edge of the 
roof, there are all these gargoyles. They were designed mainly to serve as 
waterspouts, to keep rainwater from splashing off the roof, like gutters.  
But I also read that their ugly faces were thought to ward off evil spirits.  
Mostly superstition, but if these gargoyle statues were based on the real 
beings, then maybe this Goliath guy is also on the level."

Giles raised an eyebrow at Dawn's observation. "You may have a point there, 
Dawn," he mentioned. "Many cultures use grotesque sculpture to ward off 
evil. Gargoyles in medieval or gothic castles, animal headed deities 
guarding Egyptian tombs, Native American totem poles-quite a few actually.  
And if these gargoyle sculptures were meant to guard Notre Dame against evil, 
perhaps this Goliath's motives are benevolent as well."

"A gargoyle's nature is to protect," Buffy murmured, half to herself.  
"That's what Goliath said when he helped me go up against that werewolf.  
Good job, Dawnie," Buffy ruffled her sister's hair, embarrassing Dawn 
immensely, but at the same time pleasing her. For the first time ever, she 
really felt like part of the Scooby Gang, not just Buffy's sister or the Key, 
something to be protected. She smiled warmly at Buffy, who nodded her 
affirmation.

"Giles," Buffy turned to her mentor, "would you like to join me at the 
Regency tonight? Maybe meet Goliath for yourself?"

"Uh, yes," Giles stammered briefly. "I think I would. This could be quite 
eventful; the discovery of an entirely new species of supernatural life."

"Not to mention one that doesn't want to eviscerate us on the spot," Xander 
quipped. Willow rolled her eyes at her friend's commentary, when the front 
door opened again. The others tabled the discussion for the time being, as 
Giles moved to tend to a new customer.

The moment he first noticed her, Giles was reminded of a line from a Carly 
Simon song, 'You're So Vain'; "You walked into the party, like you were 
walking onto a yacht." An imperiously striking figure in a red 
off-the-shoulder dress and white jacket combo that Xander's ex-girlfriend 
Cordy would sell her soul to possess strode purposefully to the counter. Her 
features were cover-model quality, her red hair immaculately styled, her 
posture and poise polished and commanding. She lowered her shades and peered 
over them with icy blue eyes, regarding her surroundings with a calm disdain. 
Giles swallowed hard, feeling vaguely intimidated by this formidable looking 
woman, who almost reminded him of Glory.  

He found himself glancing around the shop, discreetly observing the 
expressions of the others as they watched the woman; Xander gawked in 
slack-jawed amazement, Anya's eyes seemed to literally turn bright green in 
jealousy, while Willow and Dawn valiantly tried to look like they weren't 
staring. Buffy, for her part, stared hard at her, her eyes never moving.  
She seemed to be sizing the woman up as a potential foe, and Giles realized 
that this woman must have triggered Buffy's Slayer instincts. Having learned 
time and again over the last six years to trust those instincts completely 
and without reservation, Giles chose to confront the woman defensively.

"Uh, hello," he managed to greet the woman, his stoic British manner and 
Watcher training allowing him to hide his unease at her arrival. "I'm Rupert 
Giles. How may I be of assistance?"

"Mr. Giles," she extended a perfectly manicured hand, speaking in a clipped 
yet cordial tone. "I am Dominique Destine. I represent a group of 
interested buyers, collectors if you will."

"Collectors?" Giles asked. "May I ask of what?"

Destine pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Let us say, collectors of esoteric 
artifacts. I was informed by certain sources that this shop has occasionally 
come into possession of such objects, and I have been commissioned to 
purchase such objects. Price is no object, I assure you."  

As she fished through her purse, Giles glanced briefly at Buffy. The Slayer 
shook her head slowly from side to side, her brow furrowed in concern.  
Without a word, she confirmed Giles' fears; Miss Destine was tripping Buffy's 
alarms. He resolved not to sell Miss Destine anything more powerful than a 
used ouija board and a jar of twice-blessed oregano.

Producing a slip of paper from her purse, Destine started to read off of it.  
"Now, my backers are especially keen on obtaining a scrying stone. Yellow 
topaz I believe works best for scrying."

"Really," Giles harrumphed, walking over to a glass display case. "I always 
understood that ruby quartz was more effective. And, yes, I believe I have 
several in stock." Gesturing toward the display case, he pointed out a few 
of the more innocuous quartz crystals. "This one, in particular," he pointed 
out the largest of the stones, "is especially good. Nearly flawless."

"Quartz you say?" Destine mused silently. "Very well, I shall take that 
one." Giles withdrew the stone, and started to wrap it, somewhat relieved 
that she hadn't asked for anything more powerful.

"And also, I'm looking for a ferula gemina."

Giles jerked his head toward Destine rapidly and blinked. "A fe-ferula 
gemina?"

"Did I mispronounce the word?" asked Destine.

"Uh, I'm not sure," Giles stammered. "I don't believe I have such an item in 
stock."

"Except for that one in the safeOW!" Xander started to chime in, only to find 
himself rubbing his shin, after Anya kicked it. "Uh, no, Xander," she cut in 
hastily. "You're thinking of that new CD I bought last week, Jerry Ferrari.  
Some goth-rock thing. No good at all, I'm going to trade that one for some 
ska or something." She glared at Xander, who wisely chose to remain silent.

"Yes, quite," Giles returned his attention to his customer. "I assure you, 
Miss Destine," he intoned gravely, "that I have no such item in stock. And 
from the rumors I have heard of its supposed power, I wouldn't dare carry 
such a thing. This shop deals primarily in white magic supplies, and 
alternate religious artifacts. From what few reports I have heard of this 
'ferula gemina', if such a thing indeed existed, it would be too dangerous 
for any person to possess." Returning to wrapping the crystal, he continued, 
"The scrying stone, however, I can let you have for twenty-seven dollars and 
thirty-eight cents. Is there anything else?"

Destine raised her head, her eyes smoldering with a hateful fire directed at 
Giles. For a moment Giles feared that he might be facing another 
Hell-goddess, as bad or worse than Glory. Finally, she chose to end the 
tension, backing off slowly. "No, Mr. Giles," she muttered, "this will 
suffice for now." She handed Giles three tens, silently stood by as Giles 
gave her the change, and turned to leave. She then cocked her head slightly 
toward Giles, adding, "If my clients have any other requests, I may return."

"Our hours are posted on the front door," Giles answered non-committally.  
Destine nodded sagely, then left, her stiletto heels clicking on the shop's 
tile floor.

Giles and the others looked around the shop, which seemed somewhat less 
comfortable. A sense of peril, of vague menace, descended over the shop like 
a thick fog. Finally Xander glanced at the front door, and muttered, "Brrr.  
Anyone else feel twenty degrees cooler?"

Dawn smirked, looking at the door. "I swear, that lady was so cold that 
every time she opened her mouth a little light went on."

"Not to mention more knowledgeable of the arcane than she let on," Giles 
observed. "She was correct when she said that yellow topaz was best for 
scrying, but she didn't challenge me when I suggested ruby quartz."

"You think she's hiding something, Giles?" Willow asked.

"I have no doubt," the former Watcher answered ominously. "I fear that we 
haven't seen the last of Miss Dominique Destine."

The others nodded silently, then dispersed to separate errands. Giles agreed 
to meet Buffy at the Regency, and the Slayer left quietly, preparing for the 
evening's meeting.

For long hours after their encounter, the icy gaze of Dominique Destine still 
chilled their souls. Whoever this woman was, she was not someone that they 
hoped to meet any time soon.  

<<>>

The lobby of the Regency was a study in understated ambiance. From the high 
beamed ceiling from which an opulent chandelier refracted a shower of 
radiance throughout the sizable room, to the mahogany trimmed counters and 
tables, to the rich reds and violets of the upholstery and carpeting, every 
detail of the lobby spoke of elegance and sophistication. Both Buffy and 
Giles felt out of place here; Giles' preferred a more spartan decorating 
scheme, while Buffy felt more at home in the Bronze. Buffy glanced around 
nervously, noticing the piano player in one corner, cheerfully playing 
popular songs for passersby. Not exactly Dingoes Ate My Baby, she mused, but 
I guess they wouldn't quite fit the decorating scheme here. More to the 
point, her rescuer from last night didn't strike her as someone who would fit 
in with the surroundings. More likely his very presence would cause a 
panicked stampede toward the front doors.

"Excuse me," a low, servile voice caught Buffy's attention, and she and Giles 
turned sharply to face the speaker. A tall, slim gentleman with short blond 
hair, a thin face with a sharply pointed chin, and a deferential posture, 
nodded toward Buffy. "I am looking for a young woman named Buffy Summers. I 
was told that she was an attractive blond woman, about twenty years old."

Buffy scanned his face briefly, then nodded. "I'm Buffy Summers."

"My name is Owen. I was instructed to escort you to the penthouse suite, 
Miss Summers."

"Uh, yeah," Buffy stalled as Giles glanced dubiously at the gentleman.  
"We're waiting for someone, actually."

Owen arched a critical eyebrow. "Yes, Goliath. He is in the penthouse, and 
will meet you there."

Buffy's eyes narrowed as Owen said Goliath's name. "Goliath?" she asked 
innocently, uncertain where he got that name.

"Yes, the gargoyle," Owen answered. "My employer has asked me to escort you 
to the penthouse. Excuse me, sir," he addressed Buffy's companion. "Are you 
Mr. Rupert Giles?"

"I am he, yes," Giles answered. "You are very well informed."

"My employer keeps up with such things, sir," Owen said simply. "I believe 
he would wish to meet you as well. He has had some run-ins with the Council 
of Watchers, and wishes to discuss certain things with you."

"May I ask who your employer is?" Giles quizzed Owen.

"He wishes to make his identity known in his suite, sir. He checked into 
this hotel under confidential circumstances to prevent attracting undue 
attention. Please sir, if you and Miss Summers will accompany me to the 
suite, all will be made clear."

Buffy and Giles glanced at each other, the stoic Englishman reading the young 
woman's eyes; she had her doubts about Owen, he was hiding his true nature 
under the attitude of a servant, but he didn't trip Buffy's 'spider senses'.  
For the time being she and Giles chose to trust him.

"Okay, Owen," Buffy gestured toward the elevator doors, "lead on."

"This way, sir, madam," Owen stepped toward the elevator, with Buffy and 
Giles following.

They rode the elevator in silence; Buffy absently tapped her toes to the 
Musak, Giles glanced around the mahogany trimmed interior of the elevator, 
while Owen kept his own council, his face unreadable. After a few minutes, 
the slow-moving elevator settled to a stop, and the doors slid open.

Owen stepped out of the elevator and ushered the two guests outside. The 
elevator door opened directly into the suite. The penthouse wasn't as 
ostentatious as the lobby, but it was still grand; a spacious living area, 
complete with widescreen television, DVD, stereo, complementary wet bar, 
plush maroon shag pile carpet - I can't wait to see what the bedroom looks 
like, Buffy mused.

"Please sit down, make yourselves comfortable," Owen bade his guests. As 
Buffy and Giles took their seats, Owen called toward the bedroom door; "Sir, 
our guests have arrived."

"Excellent," a casual yet serious sounding voice answered from the door.  
"Please serve the refreshments, Owen."

"Very good, sir," Owen bowed slightly, then made his way to a mini-fridge 
next to the wet-bar. "Would you care for a drink?" he asked Buffy and Giles.

"A diet cola, if you got it," Buffy said.

"Some Earl Grey tea, if you please," Giles added. Quickly, Owen produced a 
glass of cola and a ceramic teacup, and handed them to his guests. As he 
withdrew a tray of what looked like small pastries and carried it to the 
coffee table, a youthful gentleman emerged from the bedroom.

He was wearing a blue Armani suit, immaculately tailored and styled to 
enhance his frame, but he gave every indication that he wasn't the type to be 
overly impressed with finery. He flashed a welcoming smile at Buffy and 
Giles, his face both jovial and intelligent, a perfectly trimmed goatee 
framing his chin. "How do you do, Miss Summers, Mr. Giles? I am.."

"David Xanatos," Giles identified their host.

"Ah," Xanatos chuckled as he grasped Giles' hand in a healthy handshake. "My 
fame precedes me."

"Something like that," Giles answered. "I saw you on television this 
morning, with a friend of mine, Xander Harris."

"Yes, Mr. Harris," David nodded as he shook Buffy's hand. "Good man. And I 
must say, it is fortuitous that he is your friend, Miss Summers." As he sat 
down in an easy chair, he waved his hand toward his servant. "You may go, 
Owen. I believe you have...other matters to attend to?"

"That I do, sir," Owen bowed toward his employer. "I shall bid you a good 
evening." He slipped out silently as Xanatos nodded toward the pastry tray 
on the coffee table. "Please, help yourself to the baklava. I have it 
shipped in from Manhattan fresh every day." Buffy smirked at Xanatos' 
comment, prompting the multi-millionaire to simply shrug his shoulders.  
"It's good to be the boss."

Buffy gingerly selected a pastry, and took a bite. The baklava was sweet and 
buttery, with slivers of almonds and a hint of honey, and literally melted in 
her mouth. "Hey, this is good," she admitted as Giles sampled a piece for 
himself.

"Glad you approve," Xanatos commented. "Ernesto Papadapolis, the finest 
Greek pastry chef in New York, runs a stand just two blocks away from my 
corporate HQ. His great-grandfather emigrated from Greece with nothing but 
the clothes on his back and the family baklava recipe, and built the 
Papadapolis bakery in the heart of Manhattan. Ernesto's the third generation 
to run the bakery, and when I first tasted his wares, I became a regular 
customer. Help yourself, there's plenty."

"Thanks, Mr. Xanatos," Buffy nodded. "But we're here on business."

"Yes," Xanatos answered. "Goliath. He's out on the balcony, if you would 
care to join me. It's almost sunset." He rose from his chair and walked 
over to the balcony curtain. Drawing the curtain, he revealed the balcony's 
breathtaking view of the ocean, the sun slowly receding behind the horizon.  

Buffy walked toward Xanatos, and was surprised to see a granite statue 
standing on the balcony. Stepping outside herself, she examined the statue 
further. The same face that greeted her the night before, the same stern 
chin and strong cheekbones, now stared at her from the unmoving stone.  
"Cute," she quipped, turning suddenly toward Xanatos. "Where's Goliath, 
really?"

"Just wait a moment," Xanatos answered calmly. "You'll understand soon 
enough. Oh, and I'd stand back if I were you." At that moment, the last 
reddish rays of the setting sun dispersed behind the ocean waters, and Buffy 
could feel a faint vibration from the statue beside her. She stepped back 
toward the living room, watching as the stone seemed to shift.

The statue rumbled, cracks forming in its surface. The cracks grew more 
numerous until the statue exploded, sending shards of stone flying. From the 
center of the explosion, the figure of Goliath raised his arms and wings, 
stretching as if awakening. He let loose a bellowing roar that echoed off 
the ocean tides, before folding his wings and turning to face the living 
room. He regarded the astonished Slayer and Watcher, then raised his 
eyebrow. "I see that you brought company, Buffy Summers. Welcome. I am 
Goliath."

Buffy and Giles turned briefly toward each other, Buffy whistling softly.  
"I'm impressed, you?"