"The Third Party," she confirmed. "I know. It's just about the worst stand-in name ever. I didn't come up with it. Fighting their Elites are just about as troublesome as going toe-to-toe with some very crafty vamps, only minus the satisfying banter."

In spite of the argument they'd just pulled back from, Buffy was more than willing to spill the entirety of her intel to Spike. Hell, she was prepared to tell him more than she'd told most of her non-home-based friends. He had to know; she had to inform him.

"The real challenge is the guy at their head, alias The General."

And this was her cue to wave him over to the kitchen table. It wasn't that she felt he ought to be seated for this discussion. Rather, she knew she needed to be sitting herself. Her muscles still occasionally failed her when she thought about the old enemy.