

DISCLAIMER: We do not own Buffy or Angel (ooh, what a thought) or any of the rest of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Joss Whedon, WB and Mutant Enemy do.
RATING: PG-13
CONTENT WARNING: Some violence, some smooching. Nothing serious -- about the same as the show, with slightly stronger language. But what really gives it the PG rating is -- horror of all horrors -- the hyena jokes. (Not.)
SPOILERS: Everything, we guess. This story takes place in the Fall of '98. Maybe 'The Pack'?
SUMMARY: Buffy and the Slayerettes spend Friday the Thirteenth fighting a new demon, only this time there's a complication in the form of an unexpected body-swap (remember Amy and her mother in "The Witch"?) between the two characters who desire it least. By the time the story ends, Spike frenches Cordelia at last... Willow finally makes with Xander... Angel socks Giles... and a new demon has come to play. No, wait, it's not what you think... but you'll never know what we're talking about unless you read it!!!

Part One: A New Perspective
"Damn!" hissed the demon as she glared at the two prone forms. Her plan had failed. She had attempted to turn them against each other, which apparently had worked -- and to take control of their minds while they were distracted, which apparently had not. The magic had taken its own course -- and whatever had happened, they were both still alive, and already beginning to stir.
She briefly considered killing one or both on the spot while they were still helpless. The vampire at least was a formidable champion of the Slayer. But after a moment's reflection, she decided against it. In the first place, from what she had heard, they were uncommonly good fighters, and now that the storm was passing her powers were fading. In the second place, the death of her friends would certainly alert the Slayer -- and probably seriously tick her off. And a ticked off Slayer makes for a very unhappy demon. No, she had to attack on the dark day itself and take the Slayer by surprise, or not at all.
As the vampire sat up, groaning and reaching for his head, she quickly decided to stay where she was for now and see what the situation was. Obviously something big had happened -- a spell cast beneath a supercell was not one to be ignored. Cautiously, she settled down to wait and watch.

Xander knew, even before he opened his eyes, that something was wrong. Very wrong. The world was spinning outside his head, and darkness was spinning inside. He felt sick, not to mention extremely disoriented.
Well, at least he was still alive. "That's good," he mumbled to himself. Even his voice sounded wrong. "I mean, not good in that it makes no sense, yes good that I'm still alive. I think." His head ached. He distinctly remembered being struck -- an instant of pain, then nothing. "Okay, so he won. In which case, why am I still alive?"
On that note, he opened his eyes. And saw himself, not far away, lying very still on the ground.
He shut them again instantly. "I'm dead?" he muttered incredulously. "Am I a ghost, like Willow was on Halloween?" He shifted position slightly, then revised his guess. "Or maybe I'm not a ghost, cause something hurts...." He groaned, and with difficulty, managed to push himself up on his hands. He lifted one hand to touch the place on his head where he knew he had been hit, but it didn't hurt. The thunderstorm was passing, but the rain was coming down in ropes; and yet his eyesight seemed to be better than usual. The damn radio had stopped, which was a plus.
His eyes jerked back to his own still form, or not so still, his rational mind unable to explain what he saw before him; he was moving, only it wasn't him moving. A possible solution began to dawn on him, and he didn't like it. Slowly, horrified, his eyes dropped to his own dripping clothes. Red shirt, long black coat and black pants --
"Aw, Christ!"

Angel shifted, and a small moan escaped him. His back felt like it was on fire, his head ached horribly, and he was soaked clear through. Wincing, he lifted one hand to examine the lump on his head, and after a moment decided that was not wise. Dazedly, he wondered what had happened. He remembered the demon taking control, and hitting Xander -- then a flash of light, and nothing.
Panic began to rise as he sensed something was very wrong. After a stunt like that, Angelus ought to be fighting his every movement, but he felt strangely at peace. From somewhere nearby, he heard someone swearing ferociously. Xander? he wondered as he tried, and failed, to sit up. The rain was coming down in streaks now, but he ought to have been able to see, with his vampric night vision. Fruitlessly, he blinked at the dim figure.
An instant later, that person was standing over him, yanking him up by his sopping shirt collar. It was another vampire, face twisted in the familiar demonic contortions, snarling furiously at him. After a moment of confusion, Angel focused enough to make out what the voice was telling him.
" -- sonofabitch, now you've stolen my body, too, why'd you ever have to waltz into our lives, bastard, look at me now, you've -- "
Angel blinked. This was way too weird to be a dream. "Who are you? And where's Xander?" he managed when the other stopped to take a breath between curses.
The eyes -- yellow eyes set above ragged fangs -- narrowed dangerously. For the first time in a long time, Angel found himself on the business end of pointy teeth. It was as unpleasant an experience as he distantly recalled. "Just look at yourself!" the vampire howled. "This newest stunt the Hellmouth's pulled has us both screwed!"
Realization dawned. Angel glanced down at himself, confirming the truth like the last nail in a coffin. There was no question about it. His body was as scrawny as it had been when he was starving in the streets of Manhattan, and his clothes were so tasteless they could only belong to -- to Xander. Yanking Xander's -- his -- the grasping hand off his chest, Angel scrambled to his feet and hissed in pain as his wrenched back spoke up and introduced itself.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded.
Xander shook his head in irritation. "You went postal on me, hit me across the clearing -- " from his expression it was clear he was glad Angel was feeling the aftereffects of that blow in Xander's place -- "I was knocked out, and we woke up participating in the exchange-lives program. Mandatory."
Angel's eyes narrowed as he remembered why he'd gone 'postal'. "Xander, I hope for your sake you didn't really know what you were saying to me," he hissed. Even with a human mouth, he did a pretty impressive hiss.
Xander's eyes -- brown now that his face had reverted to normal -- went wary as he unconsciously backed away, despite the fact that he could quite literally kill Angel now. "I don't remember what I said. Hey, that's not what's important right now -- why are you staring at me?" Xander broke off, flustered.
Angel shook himself out of a near-trance. "Do I really look like that?" he demanded.
Xander blinked. "It's your body. You'd know."
"I haven't seen my own face in over two hundred years," Angel replied in wonder, and refocused. The pouring rain was beginning to slacken. "Later. For now, how'd this happen, and how do we get back?"
"Er -- I think I did it," said a new voice. Both Angel and Xander whirled around, expecting a vampire.
Instead they saw a teenage school girl, complete with a book bag, a leather tome under one arm. She's no vampire, Angel thought, observing the cross clutched nervously in one hand. But that doesn't mean not a threat.
The schoolgirl looked very nervous. "I'm awfully sorry," she said. "It was an accident. I was, um, practicing witchcraft over there, and my spell sorta went crazy. I didn't meant to bother you."
They stared at her.
The demon feigned a shaky smile, concealing her inner glee. This was delightful. Delightful! Her story was about half truth and half lies. Vampires had an uncanny knack of knowing when you were lying... but apparently, transformed vampires didn't, because they both relaxed slightly. The vampire stared at her suspiciously, but the young one was already talking.
"What sort of spell was it? How can we get turned back?"
"I -- I'm not sure," the demon said, to all appearances flustered. She had already concocted the lie she would use, one that would hopefully keep two of the Slayer's allies disabled long enough for her attack. "The spell I was trying to cast... would have worn off in three days," there was a believable number, "so that's probably how long this one will last."
She paused to see how they were taking it. Both had started forward, almost certainly intending to grab her bodily and interrogate her further. Quickly she snuck out tendrils of power and calmed their fears. They eyed each other dubiously, a glimmer of hope in their eyes. "Well, we ought to see if Giles can reverse -- " the vampire began.
"Wait -- " she interrupted, as if she had just remembered something. Using the residual energy of the thunderstorm to make them more gullible, she launched into the second part of the lie. "The other part of this spell was all wrapped up in secrecy. If you tell anyone -- even if you just hint and somebody guesses -- its effects will become permanent. Irreversible. I'm sorry, really I am," she had to hurry now, the power was slipping away, " -- I wish I could help, but I think I'd better go now." She could only hold the illusion for so long. It was getting difficult to keep them still. She hurried off into the trees, and used the last remaining power to keep them from following her.
Once out of sight, she let the veil of illusion drop, and peered back through the trees to watch them argue. They had swallowed it, hook, line and sinker.
Now she only had to wait for the Dark Day -- for Friday.

Xander glared at Angel. Angel glared at Xander. As the clouds began to clear, Angel glanced up to see what stars he could see, and scowled. Dawn would be coming soon.
Xander took a deep breath. "Look," he said, "we can finish our argument later. For now, I think we had better call truce."
Angel nodded curtly. "Let's get back to my apartment, and fast."
Xander looked at him suspiciously. "Why your apartment? I like it here."
"It's cold. And It's wet. And you won't like it half so much come morning. Dead-boy." Angel fairly dripped sarcasm at the last imprecation.
"Why?"
Angel scowled at him. "Three words: 'Death from sun exposure'." Xander frowned, and began counting on his fingers, but Angel went on: "Were you planning to destroy yourself, and my body along with you? I don't want to be trapped in your body for the rest of my life!"
Xander comprehended. "Oh. Right. I'd forgotten about that."
Angel glared. Xander snapped, "Look, I'm sorry I'm not up to your expectations. I didn't plan this, or want this, and I'm really not dealing too well." His voice took on a note of hysteria. "There's something in my mind, left over from the spell I guess, and it's eating away at my brain..."
Angel's eyes widened in surprise. Apparently, the feelings of peace he had been experiencing had nothing to do with the spell or resolving issues with Xander... he had left the vampire behind in his own body, and Xander was now trying to deal with it. For one shameful moment he was simply glad that it was not his problem any more -- but then guilt washed through him, mostly from his memories, but also for Xander. He was just a kid, despite all his bravado, and having a demon in your soul was a terrifying and horrible prospect under any circumstances.
Angel looked at Xander with sympathy plain on his face. It would be hard for Xander to cope, but he needed to know what -- or rather who -- he was dealing with. "It's Angelus," he said quietly. "The vampire inside m -- you."
Xander looked absolutely horrified -- and scared. "What the hell!"
"Try not to think about it," Angel advised. "Thinking about him only makes him stronger."
"You mean -- that's part of the package?" Xander did not look over-enthused. "Not only am I stuck in your body, but I have you in my head, too?"
Angel's eyes were distant. "It's not me at all." He didn't say the next thoughts in his head, the ones that had given him nightmares for almost a century. When he had first regained his soul, the two personalities in his body had been separate and distinct: the dominant Angel, a normal seventeen-year-old human, and the dormant Angelus, the demon. They shared a body and a set of memories, which caused a certain amount of confusion, but they had been completely different beings.
Angel didn't speak his greatest fear, that Angelus was now as fundamental a part of him as his original personality, perhaps more. He was illogically half-convinced that giving voice to such fears would lend them a reality he couldn't afford. He didn't say that for more than a hundred years -- with a more recent reprise -- Angelus had been in control, and he'd had no say in the matter. He wouldn't speak those thoughts aloud. Not to Xander.
Instead he tried to remember what it had been like, the first time the demon and the mortal soul had been forced to coexist. Angelus had talked to him, Angel remembered dimly, though by now he could tune out that alien thought presence so thoroughly he didn't even notice it -- unless it rose to the surface, as when fighting another demon such as Eyghon (or fighting the exessively annoying Xander). "Don't listen to what he tells you," Angel advised. "It's not a good idea."
"No fear!" Xander was staring at him, though not with the revulsion of a moment before.
"What?" Angel demanded testily.
"You mean this is the frigging demon that's been in your head for the last ninety years? And now I have to deal with it?"
Angel sighed with the weariness that inevitably accompanies immortality. "Let's just get inside."

They splashed through puddles and narrow alleys on their way to Angel's home, and by the time they reached it, "soaked" was no longer an adequate term to describe just how wet they were. Angel was shivering violently, for not only was Xander's body smaller, but as a vampire Angel had had no body heat to conserve, and was not accustomed to really feeling the effects of the weather.
Worse yet, by the time he had figured out that his keys were in Xander's pocket, and then that his door was unlocked anyway, he was sneezing and his eyes were running. The discomforts of mortality were almost more than he could bear, given how long he had been spared of them. Xander, meanwhile, was being even more unhelpful than usual; but his distress rendered his snarky comments less than witty, and he was being profoundly tiresome. It gave Angel quite a bit of satisfaction, along with the requisite surprise, when Xander tried to follow him into the apartment and was stopped by an invisible barrier at the door.
"Please come into my home," Angel said formally, even as his mind raced, wondering why Xander's vampire body was forbidden to enter its own house. Perhaps the apartment was all Angel's, and the demon was more separate from himself than he had hoped...
While Xander commented extensively on the decor, Angel ran around trying to find blankets, tissues, and analgesics -- all of which he owned for when company came, but they weren't in the most obvious places. He finally found the ibuprofen bottle wedged between the couch cushions where Buffy had dropped it, only to discover it was empty.
Xander watched all this complacently. "There's a pill box of aspirin in your left shirt pocket," he commented as Angel dropped the bottle in disgust.
Angel glared at him. "You could have said so," he accused, fishing it out.
"I just did say so." Xander held out his hand. "Give me a couple."
Angel shook his head. "They don't work on you, man."
Xander's eyes went wide in outrage. "Then why do you own even an empty bottle?" he finally managed to ask, in a reasonable tone, no less.
"For Buffy." Angel peered at the side of the pill box. "What's the normal dosage?"
"Two." Xander looked at Angel's wounds consideringly. "You'd better take three, though. You really did a job on yourself."
Angel swallowed the pills, and restrained himself from commenting. "Thanks."
"It's not you I'm worried about," Xander sneered.
But analgesics only controlled pain; they didn't speed the healing process. And Xander knew that perfectly well. Angel turned away and opened his closet. "We'd better change out of these wet clothes. I'm freezing."
"So why don't you turn up the heat?"
Angel paused mid-rummage. "I hadn't thought of it."
Xander adjusted the thermostat. "And why do you bother to heat this place?" he asked, glancing around the spacious apartment. "That for Buffy too?"
"No. It would just look very strange, if someone lived here and didn't pay for any heating." Angel grinned. "I try to keep up appearances."
"And how do you pay for heating?"
"I'm an interior decorator."
Xander looked around again with one eyebrow raised, and opened his mouth.
"Don't say a word, Neanderthal," Angel warned. "The money is good."
Xander shrugged. "I always figured you worked the night shift at a hospital, or had a job as a security guard for a butcher's shop, or volunteered evenings at the Red Cross Blood -- "
Angel began to see where this was going, and bared his teeth in a snarl. Xander stopped mid-sentence, and smiled sardonically. Angel tossed dry clothes at him, and laid out what he had picked for himself: almost the first clothes he had bought after he had decided to turn his life around, which he had quickly outgrown once he started eating regularly instead of starving himself. They ought to fit Xander's smaller body quite nicely, and had the added advantage of not being Xander's.
Xander picked up the shirt and trousers, started to reach for his buttons, and suddenly froze. Angel quirked his eyebrows as he came to the same realization. It would, however, be ridiculous to ask the other to turn his back...

"Oh, and I'll need your class schedule," Angel said, and stifled a huge yawn.
"Better write it on your hand," Xander advised. "That's what I always do."
"You mean you don't have it memorized yet?"
Xander barely had the energy to sneer at him. "It might be a pain to remember where I sit, though. You'd probably better come in late to every class..."
"Well, of course."
"I'll have you know I'm on time at least twice a day!" Xander said indignantly.
Angel raised one eyebrow at him. "So's a broken clock. I just meant, I was probably going to get lost between every class anyway."
Xander didn't look mollified. "Just come in late and sit in the empty seat."
"You don't sit near Buffy and Willow?"
"Haven't you memorized the alphabet yet? 'H' comes a ways before 'R' and 'S', pal."
"Oh." Angel laid his head against the back of the chair. "Will it be hard to fool your teachers?"
"No, just slouch and try not to get called on. They'll think I'm having an off day, not too difficult to believe after a sleepless night studying. Aw, hell!" Xander said suddenly, sitting up abruptly.
"What?"
"I have two major exams today!" Xander clapped his hands over his face. "You're gonna fail them!"
"Not necessarily," Angel objected.
"Man, I actually studied for these!" Xander slapped the arms of his chair in frustration.
"When?" Angel asked dubiously.
"Last night. I knew I wasn't going to make it through the studyfest tonight, I was going to bail -- so I hardly slept for two nights running -- "
"Which explains why I'm so tired," Angel sighed. "What are your exams in?"
"French, and American History."
"I'm fluent in French," Angel informed him smugly, "and as for the history -- I lived it."
"Oh." A pause. "I will now pretend I knew that." Xander ran his hands through his hair and staggered to his feet, toward the kitchenette. "Do you have anything to eat? I'm starving."
"I bet you are," said Angel, who was leaning back with his eyes closed. "I hadn't eaten in three days."
"Oh, eeuuggghh!" Xander yelled from the refrigerator.
"It's animal blood, Xander," Angel said patiently, "not human."
Xander walked back towards his seat, face pale, one hand on his stomach. "It's okay. I lost my appetite. Don't you have any real food?"
"Some. But don't try and eat it. It won't taste right."
Xander groaned, and flung both arms over his face.

"Won't I need your book bag?" Angel asked as he started for the door.
"It's at Willow's house." Xander's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, they'll have wigged out over me! They have no idea where I went!"
"It's all right," Angel assured him. "I called them hours ago, and told them you -- told them I wasn't feeling well and was going home to sleep."
"Oh. Thanks." Xander shook his head. Angel headed for the door again. "Wait!"
"What is it now?" Angel asked impatiently.
"You can't go out dressed like that!"
"Like what?" Angel looked down it himself. A white v-necked shirt, form-fitting, or at least it had been when Angel wore it -- all right, so even starving to death, Angel simply had a broader chest than Xander did. Leather jacket. Black designer jeans. "What's wrong with my clothes?"
"I don't even own black jeans, much less a leather jacket like that one!"
"Do you think they'll notice?"
"Are you kidding?"
"Well, I like this outfit," Angel said defensively. "I haven't been able to wear it in nearly three years. And I wouldn't be caught dead in anything from your closet."
"But would you be caught alive in it? You're not you now, you're me."
"It doesn't matter, because this is the only thing I own that'll fit this body, and I'm not going to your house to change before school starts."
Xander pointed at the clothes drying on the heater, baggy jeans and a flannel shirt.
"No," Angel said forcefully.
Xander shrugged and capitulated. "Oh well. It'll make Cordy happy, at least. She always complains, in between make-out sessions in the..."
There was a moment of silence, and their eyes met and widened.
"God damn it." Xander turned away and hissed between his teeth.
"Xander -- "
"Don't say it." Xander turned his back, and then looked at Angel, eyes blazing. "I know what that idiot witch-girl said. We can't tell them, can't hint at it, can't even let them guess. And Cordy just won't be put off."
"I can tell her I'm really tired," Angel suggested. "Look, I don't want to make out with your girlfriend any more than you want to -- oh." He cut himself off, barely in time.
Xander let it pass for the moment. "That excuse will work for the school day, at least. But we'd arranged a date tonight at the Bronze.... just put her off till then."
"And what then?"
"Give me some time," Xander gritted, "to get used to it."
Angel bit his lip uncomfortably, and blurted out, "But does this mean that you'll -- "
"That I'll what? Take advantage of my situation for god-bloody-damned once?" Xander shouted. "No! I won't make with Buffy, does that make you HAPPY!"
Angel backed off. "Xander. I swear, I won't lay a hand on Cordelia unless it's absolutely unavoidable."
"Do you think something's wrong with Cordy?" Xander switched tactics unfairly. "You think she's not good enough for you, is that it?"
"That's not true at all!" Angel protested. "All I meant was, I won't take advantage -- I won't try to spite you, I won't suggest anything, I'll try to put her off. Is that all right?"
"No, dipstick! It's not all right!" Xander snarled. "I don't want Cordy to think I'm giving her the cold shoulder -- and what's more, I don't want them to figure out the truth! No matter what it takes -- I DON'T want to be stuck in your body."
"I know how to be discreet," Angel said, beginning to get angry himself. "No one will notice a thing. I don't want your body either. Eugh!" he said emphatically. It might be juvenile, but Xander was obviously upset, and just as obviously was beginning to suspect Angel's motivations. Completely ridiculous, of course.
They stared at each other for a few moments, breathing hard. Angel was, anyway. "I swear," Angel said carefully, "that I will do my damnedest to play you convincingly -- but nothing more. I won't touch your girlfriend unless she initiates it, and there's no reasonable way out." He emphasized clearly, "No taking advantage."
Xander nodded stiffly.
"Now, do you promise the same?" Angel prodded.
Xander glared at him in hatred, and then bit out, "Yes. The same. I promise."
Angel lowered his head in acceptance, and headed into the sunlight. When he paused, blinking up at the morning sky, Xander growled unintelligibly and yelled through the doorway, "Angel! Don't stare at the sun -- not with my eyes!"
"Right," the transformed vampire called back. "Sorry."
Xander glowered after him. He muttered, "No taking advantage..." He shook his head ruefully. "Too bloody damned right."

Angel hurried out of Xander's history class, clutching his books in relief. It had been a killer test, and he was very much afraid that he had failed it. He had, for every answer, put down the actual truth as he had witnessed it, but from the way the questions were phrased, he had a sneaking feeling that his historically accurate answers just were not what the teacher was asking for...
He had been in the class alone -- Buffy and Willow were both in different history sections -- but now, according to the schedule on his hand, he was supposed to meet them for lunch. He followed the largest body of streaming students, waving to anyone who called Xander's name but never stopping to talk, and hoped that he was in fact headed for the cafeteria. He had been in the school many times before, but he still got lost.
So far he was managing all right. He had walked Willow to school and they had spoken cheerfully and safely of past adventures, ones he knew about. They were late to school, because he had been so late arriving at Willow's door, and so missed Buffy and Cordelia's arrivals; and he had been late enough to every class since that he had had no time for more than a harried "hello" and a smile.
Now comes the real trial, Angel thought, surveying the cafeteria: extended casual conversation. They were not at any table within sight. To buy time, he got in the lunch line, piled his plate with tremendous amounts of food, and paid cash. Only as he was tucking away the change into the wallet did Angel notice the battered lunch ticket shoved haphazardly underneath Xander's ID card. Oops.
Holding the tray, he scanned the room again -- still no sign of them. Could Xander have given him the wrong schedule? Was he missing a class now? Probably one cut class would not kill him. But if the schedule wasn't wrong, where were they?

Xander paced around the apartment for the thirty-second time.
"Doesn't the man even own a TV?" he wondered. Again.

"Hey, Xander. Nice jacket," a familiar voice came from behind him. Angel jumped, and only the tray kept him from turning around and hugging her right then and there. Thank goodness.
"Buffy," he gasped. "I didn't see you."
"So your 'startled deer' imitation led me to believe," she agreed. "What are you doing over here? C'mon, we're all outside, in the usual spot."
"Right," Angel said, following her. Outside. Of course. In the sunlight. No wonder he hadn't thought of it.
And then -- she lied, Angel thought to himself. She does too look good in direct light. He could not seem to stop himself from staring at her. Drinking it in.
At the bench outside, he set the laden tray down and sat next to Cordelia, smiling at her. "Hi, Xander," she purred, one hand absently caressing the leather jacket sleeve. Her eyes dropped to his overloaded tray, and grew puzzled. "What's with the food?"
"A man's gotta eat," Angel shrugged. He picked up the first sandwich and devoured it in two bites, and noticed that the others were all eating much more slowly and far less messily. Still, none of them were staring at him. Perhaps this was normal for Xander. He grinned to himself, and stared covertly at Buffy's hair shining in the sunlight. He had never realized how golden it really was. Even if she was a bottle blonde, it was still a lovely shade...
"Are you feeling better?" Buffy asked him, perhaps a bit unnerved by his stare.
Willow had already speared him with this question, and Angel was prepared. "Just a passing thing," he said in an offhand tone. "It was good to get some sleep before the tests."
"You said you were going on a five minute break."
"That's all I meant it to be. I'm sorry." He shrugged carelessly. "I got, uh, distracted. And actually, I'd done a lot of studying the night before, too."
"I noticed you seemed happy about the French exam."
Yes. He'd arrived ten minutes late... and had finished the exam in twenty minutes. "I've been working in that class. I'm afraid I bombed History, though. It was a killer."
"Really?" Buffy looked worried. "You're better at History than I am. I'm doomed!"
Oops. "Well, I didn't really study for that one enough," Angel said, trying to cover. He downed a pack of Twinkies, and considered the pros and cons of scraping the frosting off the wrapper and eating it, too.
"Do you want to get in some extra study time before the next class?" Willow asked, concerned. "We could go over the chapter again."
Angel came down on the side of frosting, and glanced up with his fingers in his mouth. Cordelia winced, but no one commented, or even looked at him strangely. Apparently he was still well within the range of Xander-normal. And after all, when was he going to get a chance to do this again? He regretted not buying the ice cream bar that he had passed up at the end of the lunch line.
"I'll do better if I don't get myself all worked up." Buffy glanced at her watch. "Gotta run, guys. I promised Giles I'd work in a training session today." As she stood up, the sun struck her eyes and lit them up to a blue-green color Angel had never seen before. I didn't know there was green in her eyes, Angel thought.
As if on cue, Buffy shaded her eyes and began fishing for her sunglasses as she walked away. Angel looked back down at his tray, and considerately warned the pizza-bagel that Its Time Had Come.

Xander opened the refrigerator and looked with considerable disgust at the transparent bags full of blood. To his distress, they smelled enticing, but his mind rebelled. He finally discovered a withered apple at the bottom of the fruit bin. His mind was delighted, but his stomach rebelled. With a very patient, very bored sigh, he prowled around the perimeter of the apartment. Again.

Giles, cleaning his glasses, came around the corner and nearly bumped into a student carrying an armload of books. "Oh, my goodness."
"Sorry," Angel said, peering around the stack. "I didn't see you."
"Xander?" Giles gaped incredulously. "Di-did you want to look something up?"
"Oh, no, no, no," Angel assured him, setting the books down and sorting quickly through them. "These are, um, paperweights. I was trying to do my homework and the draft kept blowing my papers around. That's all."
"Oh. Of course." Giles replaced his glasses and went on. Angel heard him sigh, "I should have known. How foolish of me."
Angel grabbed the book entitled SOMATIC TRANSLOCATION OF SPIRITUAL ESSENCES, and fled.

Xander finally found a watch, buried under the pile of clothes still sitting on the heater. It was his own watch.
"Three hours till sunset," he observed. "How time does fly."
He paced around the room once, then looked at the watch again. Two hours and fifty-eight minutes.
"In theory, anyway..."

Angel ran into Buffy on the steps outside of school. Lovely, just lovely... he drank in the sight. The sun was lower now, and her hair was lit up a whole different shade of gold. Pity she was wearing those sunglasses. But then, they did look kind of cute, and it wasn't like he saw her in them often.
"How's Angel doing?" Angel asked. Buffy raised an eyebrow. Angel shrugged. "Pretend I care."
She grinned. "As if you didn't know perfectly well I haven't seen him since last night."
"True," Angel admitted. Except in the sense that it was false, yes...
Her face took on a distant look. "Actually I was a little worried," she admitted. "It was sweet of him to take my patrol, but he seemed kind of... sad."
"Probably felt left out," Angel offered.
"Yes, I know." She gave him an odd look. "Nice of you to say so, though."
Angel shrugged. "I'm starting to feel sorry for him," he said casually. "He's got it awfully tough, and he's not such a bad guy. Under a lot of stress. Maybe I ought to be nicer to him."
Buffy's jaw dropped open. "Xander," she said admiringly, "I think that's the nicest thing I've ever heard you say."

"Sunset," Xander said with satisfaction. "At last, I can get outta this place!"
He started to pick up his clothes, and then remembered. He had agreed to meet Angel at the Bronze in order to recoup, but the meeting was not scheduled until some time after dinner. The Bronze wasn't even open yet. Unless he wanted to haunt the graveyard, he was stuck here for another two hours at least, possibly more.
"God damn it," he muttered again. "Why doesn't he own a TV!"

"Thank you for having me over for dinner," Angel said politely to Buffy's mother. "Though my family's beginning to complain that they never see me." Willow, who was familiar with Xander's less-than-ideal family life, shot him an odd look which he chose to ignore.
"I know the feeling," Joyce said fervently. "Not that I mind having you over, but I swear the best thing about having you two as guests is that I get to see my daughter."
"We see each other all the time, Mom," Buffy protested. "Can I go to the Bronze tonight while you're out at the Midnight Galleria Showing?"
"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed. "You need to rest up for tomorrow!"
"Yes, listen to Willow," Joyce reproved, then looked puzzled. "What's tomorrow?"
Willow blinked. "Ah," she said cleverly.
"Big post-test party," Angel put in quickly. "You gotta celebrate after these big exams. We all need the break. Probably won't be home till late."
"Oh, are you having a midnight seance?" Joyce nodded wisely. "I always used to do that with my friends on Friday the Thirteenth."
"That could be fun," Willow said wistfully.
Buffy and Angel both shot her dangerous looks. Willow had been absolutely forbidden by Giles to touch anything even vaguely resembling the Black Arts, but she still seemed to miss spellcasting, as if she had been enjoying it.
"Fun?" Angel said drippingly.
"Well, uh, I meant in the communing-with-murderous-ghosts, toying-with-unknown-dark-spirits, summoning-up-of-soul-eating-demons sense of the word fun, of course."
Joyce blinked.
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The Brotherhood ][ Last Man Out ][ Blacklight
Behind the Scenes ][ What's Mine Is Yours ][ 3 Thru The Merry-O
Swing Set ][ The Healer ][ Black & White
The Meek Shall Inherit ][ Rosemary For Remembrance
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