Blood Pudding and Angel Food Cake
By Leia

shayelea@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; Joss, WB, Mutant Enemy
SUMMARY: The Scooby Gang's attempt to have a decent New Year's Eve; Angel cracks a joke.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, Felicity, I'm actually going for continuity here. And that means B/R. Don't worry, though, everyone gets made fun of. *g* This is inspired by my last New Year's Eve, which I spent eating a sandwich by myself in Fred Meyer, as well as a recent grocery shopping trip. Anyway. This is sillymilleniumfic.

***

‘Twas the night before New Year, and all through the town, all the humans were stirring--

Oh, wait. Wrong story.

<There is the sound of pages being turned furiously.> Right. Here we go. “Blood Pudding and Angel Food Cake.” Sorry about that last one.

***

Buffy Summers stood in Giles’ living room with the pout of the century on her face. And Giles was pretty sure it <was>, indeed, the pout of the century, seeing as how the century was about to end. But I digress. Buffy was unhappy with her watcher. He wanted her to actually go out slaying vampires on New Year’s Eve.

To make matters worse, Angel and Cordelia were in town. Buffy was very shocked to find out that when Angel didn’t hide from her like seeing each other would bring about the apocalypse, the pain was actually lessened. They’d been partners of sorts before they became involved, and though the relationship was awkward, they could be friendly again.

So why did that make matters worse, you ask? Well, it turned out that Angel and Riley didn’t hate each other. Cordelia was actually civil to Xander <and> Anya. Willow had gone twenty-four hours without crying over Oz. And Spike hadn’t threatened to rip anybody’s lungs out. All in all, everything seemed so hunky-dory that Buffy wanted to party. And Giles had just thrown a wrench in her gears.

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I realize that you have a strong desire to be ‘a regular girl,’ as you have so astutely pointed out to me over the years. But with all this Y2K rubbish <and> it being New Year’s Eve, I think it would be best for you to patrol tonight.” Giles felt a little hot under the collar as seven pairs of eyes fell in disappointment.

“Giles, I’m neither a tech wizard nor the U.S. Marshals. I can handle a few panicked Sunnydale citizens in silent crisis, but why should I have to keep order amidst mass end-of-the-world hysteria?”

Giles gave her a Look, and Buffy realized to her chagrin that she’d just answered her own question. He then cleared his throat and explained, “Well, since you put it so eloquently, feel free to stop any mass riots you find in Sunnydale. But I was more concerned about how the vampires might react to a situation in which everyone’s inhibitions are down.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows in challenge and turned to Spike and Angel. “So, guys, how do vampires traditionally react on New Year’s Eve?”

Angel looked up at her with the quizzical look that was his pre-angst trademark, observing, “You’ve served four years as slayer on New Year’s Eve, Buffy.”

“Yeah, thanks for pointing that out. But I kinda wanted a different perspective. This being the millenium and all.”

“Sorry,” Spike pointed out, “but I wasn’t <at> the last one. I was at Woodstock though. Bloody chaos. And I do mean bloody.” He grinned heartily at the memory.

Angel cracked a half-smile. “None of us were around then, Buffy.”

“<I> was,” a voice called off-handedly from the kitchen. All eyes turned toward the doorway as Anya carried a bowl of popcorn to the living room where they were gathered.

Xander laughed. “The older woman comes in handy.”

“Don’t push it, Xander.”

“Right, sorry.”

A hopeful light came into Buffy’s eyes as she waited for Anya to elaborate. But Anya just concentrated on eating her popcorn and touching Xander as often as possible.

“Well?”

“Huh? Oh, right, the millenium. Well, I should point out that over half the people at the time were uneducated and had no idea that they’d hit the big one-triple-oh. But in spite of all that…yeah, chaos is a pretty good description. And there wasn’t even a Dick Clark special.”

Buffy’s face fell. Cordelia would have shot poison darts out of her eyes, had it been possible. I mean, what, the girl couldn’t lie a little?

“Of course,” Anya added, “we are talking about feudal times here. I think chaos was a good description of every night of the year.”

Buffy turned triumphantly to Giles. “See? This is an every-night-of-the-year kind of deal. I can’t take one lousy night off? I mean, it’s New Year’s. Nobody’s gonna be <alone> anyway.”

Giles shook his head. “I’m sorry Buffy. I just don’t want to see you caught off guard. It turned out that you were right about Halloween again this year, don’t you think–”

“You know, it’s not very nice to turn a person’s successes against them.”

Willow nodded in agreement. “I’m gonna go with Buff on this one, Giles. Sorry.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Giles asked, “All right, Buffy. What do you suggest? A party? At the last minute? Where?”

Buffy began casually glancing around Giles’ apartment, avoiding eye contact. She ran her hand along the edge of the sofa.

“Oh, no,” Giles protested. “No, you don’t. You’re not having another party here. Not by any means.”

Buffy’s enormous pout returned. “But Giles, my dorm isn’t big enough!”

“And my parents are too busy having their own party,” Xander added.

“Oh, you mean their own drunken revel?” Cordelia put in.

“Yeah, thanks for that reminder, Cordy.”

“Anyway, you know Angel and I can’t help out in that area. <We> came to see you guys.”

“And I don’t do guests. I’m not the hostess type,” Anya stated flatly.

Willow concluded, “We can’t even go to the Bronze. It’s been rented out for a private party tonight.”

“The Bronze was? To <who>?” Cordelia indignantly demanded.

Willow shrugged. “Not sure.”

Buffy turned to her watcher. “So, Giles, you want to spend New Year’s Eve 1999 all alone or what?”

“Oh, all right. We’ll make a deal. <Everyone> splits up and patrols for an hour. If we all agree, myself included, that nothing unusual is transpiring, we will come back here and have a…party,” Giles finished reluctantly.

“Yay!” Buffy squealed with delight and barely checked herself from doing a little dance around the room. “You <won’t> regret this, Giles, I promise. Okay, everybody splits up. Xander, take your girlfriend and try not to get yourselves killed.” She regarded Spike, then turned to Giles and said, “You’re a Watcher…watch him.”

Cordelia spoke up. “I’m going with Angel. And don’t think I’m not putting this on my timecard, mister.”

“Fine, that’s good,” Buffy confirmed. “Will, it’s you and me. Okay, everybody meet in the Restfield Cemetery in an hour. That’s pretty central.”

As the gang gathered their supplies for patrolling, Xander casually asked, “So, Buffy, where’s your Teutonic boy toy tonight?”

Buffy’s eyes widened in horror as she threw fleeting glance at Angel. “Xan-DER!”

He grinned mischievously, watching Angel look on with interest out of the corner of his eye. “What?” he asked innocently.

“I…I told you not to call him that,” she spat out in a loud whisper.

“Why not?” Xander continued, aware that everyone could hear Buffy’s ‘whisper.’

“Riley is <not> Teutonic.”

“But he is your boy toy?”

Blushing furiously, Buffy threw up her hands and made to leave the room. Everyone picked up their things and went to follow her. “That is not any of your–or anyone else’s–business,” she announced, throwing another glance to her ex-vampire-lover-whatever.

“Except mine,” Willow announced thoughtlessly. “I get vicarious smoochies.”

Buffy drew in her breath sharply. “WILLOW!” she chided.

“Oops. Sorry.”

“So there are smoochies.”

“Xander.” Anya put a hand on her boyfriend’s arm. “No more. Even I get that.”

Passing them on the way out the door, Spike observed, “Smart woman. Buffy was about to kill him. Believe me, I know the look.”

To Cordelia’s surprise, Angel wore something akin to a smile on his face as they filed out the door, shutting it behind them.

“Hey,” she asked quietly, “what’s that all about?”

“What?”

“You and the not brooding? I mean, we’re talking about Buffy’s new boyfriend here. Shouldn’t you hate him, or at the very least walk around in a black pit of agony?”

He smiled a little. “I met him. Decent guy. Good arms. This is the whole reason I left Sunnydale, so Buffy would move on. I want her to be happy…and I think that someday, we will be together.”

“Ohh, right, you and the being human thing.” Angel stopped, giving her a look of shock. She explained with a shrug, “Doyle told me.”

“Listen to me Cordelia, you cannot tell anyone about that. Do you understand?”

“Sure, fine. I know what you’re thinking. But remember, I only say what I <think>…and to be truthful, I don’t think about it that often.” She paused briefly. “She wants you to go talk to her,” she observed. “I’ve been watching her. She keeps looking back here. Look, after what I did see of last time, anybody can tell that she’s dying for you to tell her that everything’s good.”

Angel eyed Cordelia briefly before moving to catch up with Buffy.

She was seemingly engaged in an animated conversation with Willow. “So, then there was this whole area where I totally understood what they were talking about and I was sure there was something wrong with me. I mean, Buffy and intellectual excellence? They’re unmixy things.”

“But Buffy, remember–oh.” Willow spotted Angel stride up next to Buffy.

“Buffy.”

She turned to him, a little too quickly to be casual. “Yeah?”

“Oh, um…where did you want Cordelia and I to patrol?”

“Oh! Uh, how about around by your old mansion? You know, see if anybody’s living there, that sort of thing? Maybe?”

“Sure….Can I talk to you alone?”

“Oh, Buffy, I need to go ask Xander…something. I’ll…catch up.” Willow quickly turned away, mumbling, “Girl Friday gets gone again.”

“Angel, I’m sorry. Xander is going to–”

“No, Buffy, it’s good.”

“Come again?”

“I mean, remember when you said you were moving towards something pretty good?”

Buffy stopped in her tracks, looking thoroughly confused. “I said that?”

Angel took an unnecessary breath when he realized his mistake. <Good, Angel. Turns out Cordelia’s not the one you have to worry about.> “I mean–well, I guess I thought you said it. Or that’s what it sounded like anyway. Look, Buffy, you know I’ll always love you. But sometimes, love just–”

“Don’t say it.”

“What? Is it…too painful?”

She shook her head. “Too weird to hear you quoting 80’s soft rock. But I get it now.”

He smiled tenderly at her. “We had our moment in the sun.”

Buffy started to tear up. “Yeah. However metaphorical that last part was.”

Angel paused, picturing an incredible sun-drenched kiss overlooking the ocean. “Yeah.” They continued in silence for awhile. “This was the whole point, right? You, normal relationship. You shouldn’t have to hide from it.”

Buffy laughed. “Yeah. Normal. Sooo incredibly normal.” She shook her head. “Normal and Buffy are…”

“Unmixy things?” he teased.

“Yeah.”

“That your new catch-phrase?”

“Yeah.”

“I like it.”

She smiled a little sadly at him, then they went their separate ways.

***

Fifty-five minutes later, Willow sat on a bench in Restfield Cemetery as Buffy bounced around exuberantly.

“Buffy. I can’t see how you’re so excited. I’m bored to tears.”

“Yeah, but Willow, Giles is gonna let us have a party!”

In the five minutes that passed, the rest of the pairs came filing into the area, wearied with their fruitless search for even the slightest hint of evil.

Giles and Spike were the last to arrive. “Face it, mate,” Spike commented, “I’m the worst thing that’s out tonight, and I can’t bite anybody.”

Giles vainly massaged his temples, stating, “Yes, before now I didn’t know it was actually possible to be ‘bored to tears.’ I was wrong.”

“So what’s going on?” Willow asked.

Angel answered, “My guess? The local population got caught up in the Y2K hype.”

“But wouldn’t that mean bloody chaos?”

Spike laughed. “Ducks, don’t think humans are the only ones who like to get drunk to celebrate things. I mean, how much do humans usually <eat> on New Year’s?”

Buffy crossed her arms. “So you’re saying that all the vampires in Sunnydale are–”

“Harm probably decided to throw herself a big to-do and got somebody to steal a bunch of booze. She’s afraid of you, Slayer.”

“Harm? Who’s Harm?” Cordelia asked.

Willow threw her a sympathetic look and answered, “Harmony.”

“Harmony’s a <vampire>?!”

“It must have happened at Graduation.”

Cordy shook her head. “That girl just wants eternal youth.”

Xander stared at her. “Huh?”

“I mean, never having to buy wrinkle cream? I envy her.”

Buffy cocked her head. “Well she is <dead>, Cordelia.”

“Well, yeah, except for that part. God, you guys, I’m kidding. I’m really not that dumb.”

Xander restrained himself from commenting by diverting his attention. “Hey Buffy, you never answered my question from earlier. Where’s Riley?”

“Riley? Oh, you mean the tall one? Kind of Teutonic?”

Xander laughed. “I’m sorry, Buff. I couldn’t resist.”

“Uh-huh. Just watch your back. Anyway, Riley had to do his thing.”

“Oh, you mean his scary-commando-why-didn’t-they-just-tell-you thing?”

“Yeah, that one. He’s probably stalking around in the bushes in fatigues. So it turns out we’re <not> the ones having the worst New Year’s Eve.”

“Buffy!” a voice called from out near the street.

She turned abruptly. “Riley?” Riley, Forrest and Graham walked into view wearing their civilian clothing. “Wow, I was wrong on both counts.”

“What?”

She smiled. “Nothing. Hey guys.”

Forrest and Graham greeted Buffy. “Looks like you’ve got a posse with you,” Forrest joked.

Buffy laughed. “Yeah, I’m in a girl gang.”

Xander’s head snapped up. “Hey!”

“With guys in it,” she added quickly.

“And an older British man?” Giles asked, coming up to the trio. “I’m Rupert Giles, Buffy’s Watcher.”

“Huh?”

“Giles!” Buffy spoke confidentially. “Not everybody has been given the whole explainy thing yet.”

“‘Explainy thing’? Who taught you English?”

She glared at him. “Anyway, everybody, this is Forrest and Graham, Riley’s…uh, I’ll go with ‘posse’ here. And these are my…everybody. Riley’s met them, he can do the intros.” She turned to her new sort-of boyfriend. “Hey. What’re you guys doing? I thought you had the thing?”

“Yeah, well it turned out that everybody out tonight happens to be warm-blooded. You have any idea what’s going on?”

“Spike says all the vampires are drunk.” She nodded her head firmly.

He nodded his acquiescence. “Oh. That explains it.”

“Yeah. Giles is letting me have a party. You wanna come?”

Riley grinned at her. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

***

Eleven people stood in front of the brightly-lit doorway at eleven o’clock on New Year’s Eve. (Well, nine people and two vampires, if you want to get technical.) Nobody wanted to set foot inside.

“Are you sure we have to do this?” Anya asked.

“Well there’s nothing at my house except bagged blood and frozen peas. Spike’s even eaten all the Wheatabix,” Giles answered irritably.

“Frozen peas will be mushy,” Buffy insisted dogmatically.

“Yeah, not to mention they don’t make the best party food,” Xander added.

“Well somebody’s got to go first,” Spike observed miserably.

“Fortune favors the brave,” Riley commented. Buffy smiled.

“M-maybe I could try a spell to conjure up something instead,” Willow suggested.

“NO!” came the definitive chorus from six voices.

“Or not.”

Angel scratched his head. “I hate these places. It’s just unnatural.”

“Yeah, you’re one to complain about what’s unnatural,” Forrest jibed.

“Hey!” Buffy called. “Angel is on our side.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled to Graham, “Didn’t mean to rile the peculiar chick.”

Graham shrugged. “I still think she’s Canadian. I don’t care if she <is> a vampire slayer.”

Finally Cordelia let out a strangled sigh. “Far be it from Cordelia Chase to shy away from shopping, whatever form it may take.” And with that, she courageously led to way into Sunnydale’s largest grocery store.

***

A lone stock-girl was working her pricing-gun magic on a pyramid of saltine cracker boxes when her mouth dropped open in shock. It was like a kaleidoscope of people had broken open and all the pieces had come trooping into the grocery store. First off, seven men, four women. She definitely
liked those odds. But for a girl who had been expecting a slow night when she got stuck with the miserable New Year’s Eve shift, they were causing a little too much of a ruckus.

“Um, excuse me? Excuse me! Can I help you folks find something?” She cringed inwardly. ‘Folks’? Where did that come from? It did seem to shut them up, though. All eleven were now looking at her with a mixture of horror and shock written on their faces.

Except one. One of the guys, a sort of dirty blonde one with really nice biceps, gave her a good down-home smile and answered, “No thanks. We’re just gonna wander around and buy party food.”

She returned the smile weakly. “Oh. Okay. Soda, aisle seven.” She returned to her cracker-box pricing, horribly embarrassed.

***

“Oh, my god. Where is that girl from? I mean, please. ‘Folks?’ I had no idea what to say to that.” Cordelia spoke with her usual candor.

“Nice work, Riley,” Xander conceded. “How’d you do it?”

“What, ‘folks’? I’m from the Midwest. Everybody talks like that there.”

Angel and Cordelia exchanged a knowing glance.

***

The entire entourage made their first stop in the bakery. Giles picked up a box of jelly donuts, which he sternly instructed Buffy to avoid. Miffed, she got her own box of jellies. The rest of the gang browsed the pastries, except for Cordelia, who insisted on going in search of dip.

“So, Deadboy,” Xander called, holding up two different desserts. “Angel food cake or blood pudding?”

Angel gave Xander a blank stare. “That’s not funny.”

Willow shrugged empathetically. “Actually, it was. Really, morbidly, disgustingly, not at all laugh-out-loud kind of funny. But as far as jokes go, Xander’s done worse.”

Spike grabbed one of the boxes from Xander. “Blood pudding, mate. Any day of the week. Just like mum used to make. Well, maybe not <just> like. I doubt mum used MSG, or whatever else it is in this stuff that’ll kill you mortals.”

Angel just shook his head. “Why do you eat food?”

Spike sneered back at him. “Why <don’t> you?”

This provoked a fit of giggles in several of those within earshot. Angel looked thoroughly confused. “I don’t see why you guys think this is funny. I must just be too old.”

Anya, suppressing her laughter as always, gave him a matter-of-fact look. “<I’m> having fun. And I’ve got a good nine hundred years on you.”

Graham shot her a leery glance. “What is with these people?” he muttered.

***

At Xander’s insistence, the large group next filed into the candy aisle. “Now everybody pick out your favorite form of chocolatey goodness.”

“But remember the lesson I learned on Halloween,” Willow added, “a little goes a long way.”

***

Buffy sent Giles, Willow, Spike, Forrest and Graham to get beverages while she went with the rest to pick out puddings and other various party treats. Cordelia met up with them while Xander was praising the virtues of instant pudding.

“I swear, I could just kiss the person who came up with it,” he finished.

“You could?” Buffy teased. “What if it was a guy?”

“Yeah,” Anya griped, “and what are you doing kissing someone else anyway?”

“Oh, he’s good at that,” Cordelia assured her. Anya, to her credit, glared at Cordelia.

Xander was momentarily floored, but recovered quickly enough to answer all the charges. “First off, yes, let’s bring that up again.” Turning to his girlfriend, he said, “Second–okay, metaphor.” Lastly, he asserted, “And it wasn’t a guy, Buffy.”

“How do you know?”

“Well…it’s food.”

“Guys don’t eat?”

“Guys don’t cook.”

“I do,” Angel answered nonchalantly.

Both Xander and Riley stared doubtfully. “Yeah, okay, <you> cook,” Xander said sarcastically.

“I do.”

“He does,” Cordelia confirmed. “He makes excellent scrambled eggs, especially for someone who doesn’t eat. They’re a total reviver after an all-nighter with the evil.”

“Whatever,” Xander mumbled.

Luckily, Willow appeared at that moment, letting them know the others were already in the checkout line. Wandering idly toward the front of the store with the rest, she decided to make her own attempt at sarcasm. “Ooh, hey look guys! Instant grits! There’s a yummy treat!”

“Hey,” Riley protested, “don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“You like grits?”

“Still from the Midwest here.”

“Oh, right.” After a moment she added, “No offense.”

“None taken.”

***

“Okay, the final total is $73.80,” the checkout boy stated nervously. Forrest scratched his head while Graham gave him a weak smile. “Uh, guys? How are we coming on the money count back there?” Forrest called back to where Willow and Giles were frantically counting the money that they could scrounge together.

“Okay, the grand total comes to…” Willow did a few quick calculations in her head. “Twenty-four dollars and fifty-one cents. Ooh, no–I just dropped a nickel. Forty-six cents.”

Graham’s weak smile managed to get even wider, and even weaker.

***

When all was said and done, they did not head back to Giles’ apartment loaded down with groceries. They had managed, after much arduous debate and a final ruling by Cordelia, to pare down their purchases to their price range. They left with a half-case of soda and another of beer, two boxes of jelly donuts, Cordy’s clam dip, Riley’s grits, and some Wheatabix Spike had managed to sneak in there. All in all, not fabulous food for a party. Then again, by that time it was eleven forty-five.

On the way back to party headquarters, the group passed the Bronze. Cordelia, straggling behind, thought she caught a familiar face about to walk in the door.

“Harmony?” she called out.

The blonde vampiress looked genuinely delighted to see Cordelia. “Cordelia Chase? Oh my god! I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Me neither!” Cordelia gushed. “What are you doing here at the Bronze? I heard it was rented out tonight.”

“Oh,” Harmony laughed, “it is. I rented it out. I figured, if I couldn’t be in France I should at least throw myself a party, right? I totally would have invited you, but we’re checking pulses at the door.”

“Oh, right,” Cordelia acknowledged. “I heard about that. I completely understand. Anyway, I’m going to a party of my own. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, your hair looks great.”

“Oh, thanks! Sometimes it’s hard, you know, with no reflection. That’s the biggest downside….Anyway, it was good to see you Cordelia.”

“Right, you too.”

The girls parted ways, and as soon as their backs were turned their smiles changed to scowls.

“Sheep,” Cordelia muttered.

“Human,” Harmony growled.

***

The ball had dropped in Times Square; the end of the world had not come. Although as Willow pointed out, if the world had ended when the ball dropped, they all would have been dead three hours ago.

Forty-five short minutes later, everyone was desperately looking to liven up the party. It had started out okay, if slightly weird.

As they'd walked in the door, Angel announced, "Okay, is everybody ready to party like it's nineteen-"

Cordelia cut him off. "Finish that sentence, and I swear I'll stake you myself. Don't think I'm not kidding." She privately added, "Your jokes are actually worse than Xander's."

The most excitement they’d had since was when Anya threatened Giles when he refused to let her have a beer.

“My god, as if it’s not bad enough that you broke my powercenter, you won’t even let me have a beer? I’m eleven hundred and thirty-eight!” she’d shouted.

“I’m sorry, Anya, I could be arrested,” Giles had offered by way of explanation.

“Ugh. If I had my powers, I’d–I’d…well, let’s just say it wouldn’t be pretty.”

To which Graham had again looked at her like she was on crack.

Anyhow, it was not yet an hour into the new year and everyone was again bored past the point of comprehension.

“Sooo…what now?” Spike asked. “Because I’m so bloody glad that I got to have a party with you lot. Makes Thanksgiving seem lively.”

“Again, I’ve gotta go with Spike,” Xander said, “and I really hate saying that. But this is just a head-spinning whirligig of fun we’ve got going on here.”

“Well,” Buffy challenged, “what do you suggest?”

“Uh, I dunno…charades?”

A collective groan ran through the room.

“Twister?” Willow suggested.

“The game or the movie?” Anya asked.

“Ummm, either?”

“No.”

“I don’t have either of those anyway,” Giles added. “I’ve got Yahtzee.”

“No!” several voices called out.

“Do you have a deck of cards?” Angel asked.

“Well, yes.”

“But what card game do we play, mate?” Spike scoffed.

“Poker?”

“Strip poker,” Forrest put in.

“NO!” most of the room firmly asserted. Riley discreetly gave him a whack upside the head.

“Hearts?” Graham proposed.

“No!” Angel, Buffy and Spike simultaneously denounced.

“Gin?” Riley recommended.

To this Cordelia gave a sob. “Absolutely not.”

Angel gave her a sideways glance. “What?”

“Do you remember the guy who, and then he–well, anyway, I almost played it with Doyle once.”

“Oh.” Angel was understandably confused.

“Well, do you have an idea, Cordelia,” Buffy asked somewhat gently.

“We could–AAGH!” Cordelia shrieked with pain, her hands flying to her head as she doubled over a little melodramatically. Fuzzy images danced around her head. She managed to straighten up as the pain subsided. Then the second wave hit. “Gyyuaaah!”

Everyone but Angel stared at her, dumbfounded. “What’s–is that a game?” Buffy asked. Giles and Xander started to go toward her, concerned.

Angel stopped them. “She’s having a vision,” Angel explained.

“Oh.”

“Wow,” Xander observed as Cordelia recovered, “so that’s what it’s like. I still can’t get over this Cordelia-having-supernatural-powers thing.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia breathed, “must make you feel even more like Jimmy Olsen.”

“So, what was it? Was it in Sunnydale?” Angel urged.

“Yeah.”

“Well? Did you recognize it?”

“Of course I recognized it! This is Sunnydale we’re talking about. It was the Bronze.”

“The Bronze?” Willow asked in perplexity. “Where they’re having the private party?”

“Yeah,” Cordelia added, “private <vampire> party.”

“That was in your vision?” Buffy inquired.

“Huh? Oh, no. I saw Harmony go in there when we were on our way back. I stopped to say hi.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Angel asked.

“Hey, you’re the detective.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Spike insisted, “Harmony’s having a party at the Bronze?”

“Yeah, vampires only apparently.”

“Great,” Riley muttered. “Wait a minute. You stopped to say hi? You’re friends with a vampire?”

Cordelia frowned, eyeing Angel. “Well, yes. But not the one you mean. I haven’t been friends with Harmony since she suggested I dated Jonathan. Thanks to Xander.”

“I’m confused,” Riley stated.

“No time to be confused,” Buffy informed everyone. “Only time to fight.” She began handing out the weapons she and Giles had been gathering while the conversation went on. This clearly being Buffy’s domain, Angel and Riley both stayed out of her way.

“Wait,” Forrest protested, “we need our equipment back in the lab.”

“Absolutely not. No time, plus you’re on my turf now. Stake to the heart, beheading, or set them on fire. But I wouldn’t recommend that last one.”

She stopped to survey the situation. “So, we go attack the Bronze. No more party.” She paused. “Thank god.”

Everyone agreed heartily as the small army exited the apartment.

On the way out, Graham addressed Cordelia. “Hey, what was that vision thing all about?”

Cordy shrugged. “I’m his assistant. When the PTB calls, I answer.”

“PTB?”

“Powers That Be,” she clarifed with superiority.

Graham could only shake his head. “Who <are> you people?”

Angel and Xander just happened to be the last ones out. “Hey, Angel.”

Angel looked at Xander with surprise at being addressed by his name. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to…to, well, say that I probably shouldn’t have. Teased Buffy like that, I mean. It was pretty low.”

Angel almost smiled. “Well, Xander, I’ll tell you this. If I had to choose between being ‘Deadboy’ or ‘Teutonic boy toy’…”

“Yeah?”

“I’d rather be called Deadboy any day.” Xander broke into a wide grin. Angel continued, “Hey, don’t let her off easy with this Riley guy, will you?”

“He’s nice enough. Good to Will, so bonus points there. But I never was easy on Buffy’s boyfriends.”

Angel laughed shortly. “No, you weren’t.” As they continued on their way to the Bronze, he finished with, “Maybe we understand each other after all.”