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Story by Joanna C, no linking or archiving without permission and acknowledgement. Angel and Buffy characters belong to Fox, Joss Whedon etc. used without permission but for entertainment only (no profit). Feedback adored.

Karaoke Kids

**

1: Nice Work if You Can Get it

“You sure this is the place?” Xander Harris gazed dubiously through a smoky window as his companions climbed out of the rented van. Giles had been stuck with cage-carrying duty, and he shifted the cumbersome luggage awkwardly as he fumbled for the directions.

“Caritas,” recited Willow from memory. “Yup, this is it. How many places called Caritas could there be in L.A.?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” said Anya. “Why, back when I was a vengeance demon, I…”

“Indeed,” interrupted Giles hastily, balancing the cage on his knee. “Interesting as I’m sure that is, may I suggest we head inside and find our contact before I drop your friend Amy on my foot?”

“He sure is grumpy during car trips,” mumbled Buffy, pushing open the door.

“She’s not MY friend,” clarified Anya. “So don’t go snipping at me!”

The bar was dizzyingly crowded. The dazed travelers finally found a small table near the bar and Giles set his burden down carefully.

“Right, then,” he said commandingly. “Xander, Anya…get…drinks,” he decreed, deciding it was best to keep those two on something safe and simple. “Willow, Tara, if you could watch Amy…Buffy and I will see if we can hunt up this host fellow…”

“You’ve found him,” said a smooth, even voice behind them. They whirled to face a green-skinned, horned demon.

“Although this better be good,” the host continued. “I’m getting the I-need-a-favor vibe off you, and the last time I helped a gang of do-gooder humans I wound up with my head chopped off and left to rot in a lice pile.”

Giles sighed, already feeling the beginnings of a tension headache throbbing behind his temples. That’s what he got for using one of Spike’s contacts…

**

One thing you could say about Holland Manners, at least he knew how to run a meeting. Nathan Reed, on the other hand…well, Holland’s successor had his positive attributes, not the least of which was not killing her, but Lilah Morgan was starting to think that an understanding of dramatic pacing was not one of them. She fidgeted uncomfortably, and his endless drone of banter abruptly ceased.

“Lilah,” he said, smiling arrogantly. “Are we at item five on the agenda already?”

Busted. Well, there was nothing to do but toady up and drop the trump card. “Actually, sir, I think we can drop that item off the agenda. I’ve already solved it.”

“Really? And how, may I ask, have you done that?”

She cleared her throat nervously. “Well, according to the prophecy you’ve found, this is the year when the lost witch will return to power. And power spells can only be performed on the night of a full moon…which we’re having on Sunday.”

“Yes, yes, but assuming this is the full moon they need…stopping such a spell would require finding a coven of sorcerers powerful enough to perform such a spell. And all of those in the Loss Angeles area, unless you are about to tell me otherwise, work for me.”

Lilah smirked triumphantly. “I am about to tell you otherwise. Nathan, I’ve been telling you all along that the resources I continue to devote to Project Angel are not in vain. My…sources…tell me that a group from Sunnydale…a group that includes two witches, a watcher, and a vampire slayer, have arrived in Los Angeles this evening, and are currently ensconced at Caritas. And…” she paused dramatically. “My source also tells me that this group has an association with Angel.”

“Sources?” asked Nathan curiously.

Lilah nodded to the guard, who opened the door to admit a willowy blond-haired vampire who greeted Lilah with a friendly wave.

**

“Translation? That’s the big favour?” The host snorted in disappointment. “What makes you think that little ol’ me can help you with such a menial task?”

“Spike,” said Giles. “He said he was an old friend of yours?”

“Spike…Spike…Oh, THAT Spike. How is old Billy-the-Kill these days?”

“Billy the pill is more like it,” muttered Giles. “Says that you’re the expert on exotic demon languages, and frankly, this spell has me stumped. But Willow feels it may be our only chance to restore Amy…”

The host studied the parchment with bored curiosity. “Well, this ain’t exactly exotic, cowboy. But I’ll take your word for it.”

“So you’ll help us?” asked Buffy.

“Sweetheart, I’ll do what I can, but you folks need more help than just a little spell translation. Except those two,” he finished, pointing at offhandedly at Xander and Anya.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Willow nervously.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You want more than that, you’ll have to sing. There’s not a whole lot I can tell just by looking, but I will say that all of you, ‘cept these two lovebirds, have the most swirly, busy auras I’ve seen in a long time.”

“What do you mean except us?” pouted Anya. “I am VERY conflicted. Much more than a stuffy old book guy like Giles! I used to be a demon, you know.”

“Uh huh.”

“A VENGEANCE demon,” she clarified.

“So?”

“So? A thousand years avenging the wrongs of man, and you’re telling me you don’t see anything interesting in my aura?”

The host shrugged. “Look, sweetheart, there’s a reason they call couplehood ‘settling down.’ And frankly, your friends can all use some of that vibe. Don’t worry, my sweet…you have a very pretty, very human little aura that has stood up remarkably well over the years.”

Anya frowned, not entirely satisfied, and snuggled into Xander’s arms as the host argued logistics with Giles.

“Look, leave your scroll with me and check in tomorrow. We’ll see how we’re doing. You guys have a place to stay? ‘Cause I have a friend who lives in an abandoned hotel…and I bet he’d love that coat of yours, cowboy,” he said, fingering the brown suede of Giles’ coat. “And the silver---very Rocky Horror. Why, if only you had an earring to go with that little pinkie ring…” He sighed. “One can dream, can’t one? Well, why don’t you check in with this friend I mentioned. I bet you’ll find him REAL helpful, and I don’t just mean in a putting you up for the night kind of way. Toodles.”

Still reeling from the trip, the alcohol and the company, they silently gathered their things.

“Um, guys?” said Willow. “We pretty clear on the only-one-karaoke bar-called-Caritas thing?”

Buffy halted. “Yes…”

Willow nodded. “Well, it had me wondering…on a similar note…how many abandoned hotels there are called Hyperion.” She brandished the business card the host had handed her: a simple address and phone number with a picture of what appeared to be a stylized lobster. “This is Angel, isn’t it?”

Giles sighed. The night just kept getting better, didn’t it? As they were leaving, Buffy tugged on his sleeve with an appraising grin. “He’s right about the earring, Giles. Very cool. I don’t know why you don’t wear yours more often.”

**

“Well, I don’t see why we have to!”

Wesley blew out a frustrated breath. “You know why.”

“Cause I had a vision? What kind of crappy reason is that? You know, with the sheer volume of vision activity we’ve been getting lately, we’re certainly busy enough that we can be selective…”

He regarded her solemnly. “You know it doesn’t work that way.”

“What doesn’t?” interrupted Angel, jumping down the stairs. Then, he noticed Cordelia pressing a bottle of water to her forehead. “Cordy, did you have a vision?”

“Duh. And may I say, a particularly nasty one!” She smiled slightly as he began to sympathetically massage her temples, then she turned on Wesley with a wounded pout. “See? This is appropriate post-vision behaviour. I like this much better than the yelling and berating you were doing.”

Angel’s hand fell away as he turned to face Wesley. “Why WERE you yelling, anyway? Cordy, what did you see?”

“She saw six tired and anxious travelers showing up on our doorstep and asking us to help them. And I was yelling at her because she wanted to turn them away.”

“Cordy? Is that…?”

“Not turn them away, exactly,” she clarified. “More like…refer them away. To a proper hotel where they can hole up and unleash the forces of magic without dragging us into yet another hellmouth of paranormal badness.”

“And since when have we turned away from magic?”

“Since the magic can take care of itself. I’d be able to take care of myself too if I had a vampire slayer with me!”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Buffy?”

“No, the other ex-girlfriend-slash-vampire-slayer in your life. Yes, Buffy! Here, in L.A.! Cause that always goes well.”

“What did you see?” he asked again.

From outside, they heard the sounds of many voices, some of them raised in terrified shouting.

“That,” she sighed. “Vamps versus slayerettes, and some creepy bronzy letters floating all over the place. There might have been an H in there. All right, go save your girlfriend, Angel. I’m still feeling visiony. I’m gonna go puke.”

She turned on her heels and staggered up the stairs as Angel rushed outside just in time to see Buffy stake the last of her attackers.

**

“What do you hear?” Some ten minutes later, she crept stealthily behind Wesley, who was peering into the hotel lobby from within the safety of the office.

“Cordelia! You’re…are you…”

“Business as migrainy usual, Wesley. This is hardly the time to be warm and fuzzy, what with gossip involved. What’s the sitch?”

“They’ve gone to see the host at Caritas. Something about a transmogrification reversal spell…apparently, the host came highly recommended as a translator of demon languages…”

“Oh, of course. Spells. Cause those always turn out so well…”

“Still grumpy, I see.”

She shook her head. “This isn’t grumpy, this is snippy, and defensive, and worried sick. Oh, and still a little regular-sick, but that’ll pass.”

“Over Buffy? Come on, Cordy, it’s been an awfully long time. Surely…”

“Riiiiiight. Surely. And you’re hiding out in the office because you’ve had so much better luck with her than I have. All right, I guess we’d better get it over with and go say hello. Strength in numbers and all that. Cover me?”

“Always.”

**

“…and it’s really nice of you to let us stay here,” rambled Willow. “Cause we…hey, it’s Cordy and Wesley. Hi guys!”

Cordelia smiled weakly. “Hi. Excuse me.” She pulled Angel aside. “They’re staying here?” she whispered.

He nodded.

“All of them? Buffy, and Xander, and…all of them?”

He sighed. “You don’t have to, Cordelia. You do have your own apartment.”

“Thanks. Thanks so much for kicking me out yet again over some blond from your past.”

“I’m not kicking you out, Cordelia, I’m only saying that Buffy will be staying here. And you are of course welcome, but not if you can’t control yourself.”

“Control myself? Angel, what are you…”

“Look,” he said firmly. “They’re trying to do something important here. And it would be really nice if that worked out for them, after everything they’ve been through this year. Buffy…well, Giles has been really close to her lately, and he says she’s been a bit off since she…” His brow darkened. “…came back…”

She felt her voice rising more than she intended it to. “So that’s it, huh? Roll over and stop all life as we know it just cause Buffy says so?”

With monumental self control, he stifled a reprimand and physically hauled her into the privacy of the office.

“Angel…”

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t even start with me, Cordelia, that’s the last thing I need right now. This is…”

“Tense? Awkward? Hideously, nightmarishly painful?”

“Hard,” he said tersely. “For me too, believe it or not. It’s not…well, she’s moved on, Cordelia. And so have I. And she’s…well, it’s been a tough year for both of us. She lost her mother. She lost herself. And trying to figure out where we are, on top of everything else that might be going on this weekend…well, your behaviour isn’t making it any easier. I know you’ve had your differences with Buffy in the past, but can’t you just…”

“Differences?” She squeaked indignantly. “You think my Buffy issues are just ‘differences?’ Shallow little Cordelia can’t control her temper or her jealousy or her godamned PMSy mood, is that it? God, Angel, you have no idea, it’s…”

He softened, the audible grind of her clenched teeth finally clueing him in to the fact that she wasn’t just being difficult, that she was surprisingly, genuinely upset. “What?” he asked gently. “Cordelia, what is it?”

She blew out a breath. “It’s partly me,” she conceded. “Sunnydale was…well, it had its moments, but it had its nightmares too, especially that last bit. And Buffy, she’s just…she’s like Sunnydale incarnate, you know? And she was front and centre for all the parts I’m just not in the mood to relive. But some of it…well, I’m just sick of everyone blaming ME, you know? Telling me I’m the one who should grow up, bury the hatchet, be the bigger person and play nice with poor Miss-Save-the-World…”

“Cordelia…”

“And is anyone saying ‘Buffy, be nice to Cordelia?’ No. Cause she has problems, so she gets a free pass to do whatever she wants. I’m sorry, but that’s just not fair, Angel. Just because she saves the world doesn’t mean she has to be the centre of it.”

“But Cordelia… I mean, when has Buffy…she hasn’t…”

“Hasn’t what? Been catty, been petty and malicious, like I…well, I’ve paid for that, haven’t I? No, she hasn’t done that, at least not to me, but she’s been insensitive, and that’s just as bad. I’ve never been the type to enjoy soaking up the pity of others…but I guess I’d just like to know that if I ever WAS in the mood for that, I’d have people in my life who would dish it out properly. You know, after Doyle…well, Willow…she called, you know? She and Xander, and Giles…and I didn’t cry or whine or fall apart or anything, but it was nice to know they were thinking of me. And do you know what Willow said just before she hung up? She said ‘oh, and regards from Buffy too.’ So typical…they got the whole scooby gang together to call Cordelia, but the almighty Buffy couldn’t be bothered to stick around for an extra five minutes …”

She sucked in a frazzled breath. “We were never best buddies, I know that, but god, Angel, one of my friends had just DIED and she thought it was more important to spare herself that awkward moment then to reach out to someone else for once…”

“I think you’re reading too much into this,” he said delicately.

She screamed, and hurled a nearby stapler at his head. “Grrrrr! This is exactly what I’m talking about! Do you see what you’re saying? I’M over-reacting. I’M being insensitive and difficult and selfish and insecure. I’m not understanding that the most important thing in the world is Buffy Summers, and her pain, and her problems, which I am exacerbating by being so difficult. Well, fine. Stay here, cheer her up, comfort her from the trauma of the evil Cordelia. I’m going home, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave me alone until Saint Buffy is back where she belongs!”

In furious tears, she stalked out the back door, fuming, leaving Angel to wander out of the office in a stunned daze and nearly crash into Buffy, who was leaning thoughtfully against the doorframe, eavesdropping.

**

“What on earth happened down there?” asked Giles anxiously. “You were gone for quite awhile, and…”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Buffy sighed. “Just talking, and the kind of talking I think I need to sleep on.”

“Was it Angel? Are you…”

She patted his arm affectionately. “Stop being insecure-guy. Angel and I have a special relationship, we always have. But he and I…well, we’re in different places now.” Her gaze wandered over the room in Angel’s hotel that she was occupying. “OK, so maybe not physical different places, at this precise moment in time, but you know what I mean…”

He settled onto the bed beside her. “I think I do. And we don’t have to be serious right now if you aren’t in the mood, love. Willow and Tara are settled in next door, and Xander and Anya are busily testing out the mattresses one floor up. And you were gone an awfully long time. I had to do something to keep myself occupied…”

Her tired face broke into a beaming grin. “You little sneak! What have you been up to?”

He pointed to their suitcase, which was open, and to a pile of thin cotton sheets folded neatly on the floor beside it. Then he pulled down the bedspread.

“Silk sheets? And…leather?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Is this the Major Kira fantasy again?”

“Well, Angel’s accommodations ARE sufficiently dark and gloomy. And you, love, make a perfect mirror-world Kira, all leather and…”

“And who might you be in this little scenario?”

He peeled off his shirt and jeans. “I might be Odo,” he confessed. “And simply…melt in your embrace…”

**

“Sounds like somebody had a good night,” said Angel grouchily, as a giggling Buffy, Giles trailing behind her, finally appeared for breakfast.

“Unlike you,” chastised Wesley. “Who spent the entire evening locked in your room, brooding…”

“I just…I’ve never seen Cordelia like that, Wesley. Never. She was…”

“She was tired and worried and not feeling very well, Angel. I wouldn’t worry.”

“But she…she said she wasn’t coming back, and…”

Wesley sighed. “I know. But you aren’t the one who needs to talk to her about this, believe it or not. The brooding…well, it isn’t very pleasant to watch, but at least you’re confronting your past and trying to deal with it. Cordelia’s never done that.”

“So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying you need to let her have it out with Buffy and get whatever’s bothering her out of her system once and for all. You need to let her alone and let her deal with this. Now, I still haven’t seen Xander and Anya emerge from their quarters, but Willow and Tara left early to buy some magic supplies, and I’m going to Caritas later today to see the host about the de-ratting spell. What’s say you and Mr. Giles tag along and leave the girls to work things out?”

“Here’s hoping,” sighed Angel.

Wesley gave his friend a reassuring smile. “We’re not leaving for another hour or so,” he said encouragingly. “So there’s still some time to fit in a little more brooding before we go…”

**

She snuggled deeper under the blankets and ignored the insistent pounding on the door. She told Angel to leave her alone. She thought she had been very clear on that. And yet…knocking going on five full minutes now, and she knew he could break down the door if he wanted to. Maybe he really was sorry…

She poked her head out from underneath the pillows and directed a pouty “I’m not home!” in the direction of the door. The knocking stopped.

“Cordelia? I need to talk to you. Cordelia?”

Buffy. Wonderful. Well, it was her apartment, after all, and she could just refuse to open the door. But then she remembered that Buffy could knock it down too. With a deep sigh, she rose from the couch, straightened the pillows, straightened her clothes and ran a finger through her hair. She took five deep breaths, pasted a fake smile on her face and opened the bolt.

**

“Well, look at you, all tense and terse and business-like!” greeted the host. “Aren’t you just the very model of a modern major general. Don’t tell me you’ve gone all-soldier, no-play over that love triangle thing, not when we need you on full alert for the tedious and dull grunt work that lies before us like an endless vista of…”

“What on earth are you talking about?” snipped Giles.

“Hoo boy, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the hot little blond this morning, didn’t he? Don’t tell me, you and Broody McLeather have already come to blows over the slayer that only one of you is still in love with…”

Wesley’s eyes widened with rapt interest. “Really? Only one of them? Which one?”

The host sighed. “Oh dear. Here I’ve been thinking you talked everything out, when it seems you haven’t. So this awkward male posturing is really just a misunderstanding borne of manly emotional repression and poor communication skills. I don’t usually do things this way, but I’m gonna make things real simple for you. Angel, the only reason you’re getting Ripper-y vibes off watcher-boy is cause he’s worried you’re gonna steal his girl. Which you’re not gonna do because you’re in love with Cordelia. Now, if both of you are ready to drop this karmic pissing match, we can get started. We have a lot of cross-referencing to do.”

**

“…and if you’ll just drop the attitude for a second,” finished Buffy nervously, “I came to apologize.”

“You…what?”

“I heard what you said to Angel yesterday. About…well, about me. And…” she took a deep breath. “You’re right. I haven’t reached out, especially not to you, and maybe I should have. I’m reaching out now.”

Cordelia sniffled and turned away.

“Cordelia? What is it? Look, I’m really trying here, but you’ve gotta give me something to go on…”

She wiped her eyes. “Sorry. Maybe I am a little PMSy or something. Just…I’ve had a hard year too, you know? Not like yours, but still…hard…”

“I wanna help you,” said Buffy warmly. “I wanna listen.”

**

“This word here, I think it refers to…a fermentation of some kind?”

“Very good, Wes-man. And on that happy note, anybody else up for a break? We’ve been going at this forever.”

“It’s only been an hour,” said Giles.

“So? This research business is hard work. Whose up for hard lemonade and jelly donuts?”

Giles made a face. “So how DO you know Spike?” he asked.

The host shrugged. “Those of us in the biz---we like to stay in touch, you know? And my pal Free Willy hosted last year’s annual convention…”

“Free Willy?” choked Angel. “That’s very good.”

“OUR Willy?” clarified Giles.

“I would love to see such a convention,” said Wesley. “It sounds fascinating. Were there very many different sorts of demons there?”

The host rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mr. Enthusiasm. Anyway, the point is that I needed to pick up a few hard to find stock items, and Willy suggested I use this regular of his with contacts all over the place…”

“And?”

“And there is nothing our pal Spike the psych won’t do for a buck. I bribe, he scuts. It was the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Giles snorted disdainfully and began polishing his glasses. The host gave him a winsome smile. “And how do YOU know him?”

“Let’s not get into that.”

**

“You know, we really should have done this more often.”

“I know,” agreed Buffy. “Nothing says bonding like Mint Double Chip ice cream. But enough about vampires and demon dimensions and scary things. I spent half the night watching Angel go into major brood mode about you. What’s the sitch?”

She squirmed. “Oh, you know. He worries about me…visions and all? And there’s that whole demon spawn issue. He likes to protect.”

Buffy shook her head. “It’s not just that, Cordelia. There was a vibe.”

“Really? Like the vibe you have with Giles?”

Buffy smirked. “How did you know about that? You were only there for, like, five minutes last night.”

Cordelia shrugged. “Hey, I saw what I saw. But if it’s that obvious, it must be THAT exciting. Come on, I shared with YOU.”

“Yeah, but all of your guy stories involved impregnation with demon spawn. Mine involve…”

“Yes?”

“Well, he has this major action-chick fetish…cause I’m one, you know? There’s this Major Kira thing…”

“Whoa, too much information!” said Cordelia. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Giles is sweet and we cuddle’ or something.”

Buffy shrugged. “He does that too. And he also worries. I told him we’d be back by three, so I’d better call.”

“By three? But you got here just after…you only allocated two hours to bond with me?”

Buffy grinned. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Two hours? But…I have a formidable temper! What if I had been bitchy and unforgiving?”

“But you weren’t. So everything is fine. Phone?”

With half-hearted annoyance, Cordelia pointed Buffy to the phone. After some mushy talk that she didn’t feel like listening in on, Buffy finally said “We’re leaving. See you in half an hour” and the girls headed out. They didn’t see the two trenchcoated strangers skulking in the hallway, and they didn’t see the polka-dotted bandanas until the chloroformed fabric was already in their mouths.

**

“Well, I go back MUCH further than any of you with Spike,” bragged Angel. “He’s like…well, I sired Drusilla, and SHE sired…”

“Really?” said the host. “Well, well. A grandson to be proud of. And believe it or not, I ain’t being facetious. More tequila? I’ve been trying all morning to get watcher-man drunk enough to sing.”

Giles shook his head, picking up his ringing cell phone and muttering into it as quietly as possible.

“Must be Buffy,” observed Wesley. “And my goodness, I’d never have thought to call her THAT…that’s…you know, he’s very creative…”

They were staring, and Giles hung up the phone with a sheepish grin. “They’ve spent the last hour ‘bonding,’” he told the others. “Which surely involves talking about us.”

“And probably also some sort of confectionery item,” offered Wesley.

“No doubt. Anyway, they’re on their way over here. What have we got to tell them?”

The host slammed his book shut with a satisfied sigh. “Well, the spell’s pretty straightforward. We have to hook up with our little wiccan shoppers and put the potion together, then leave it to ferment overnight in a vat of holy water. Then on the full moon, put the Amy-rat into the vat, do the incantations, and presto. Piece of cake.”

“You don’t mean that literally?” exclaimed Wesley, horrified.

“What? Oh, no, of course not. Although we might want to bring some cake, for afterwards. Anyway hombres, we’ve got half an hour to kill and I’ve been a very good boy. How about treating me to something musical?”

Giles sighed. “I suppose we owe you for your help with the translation. Very well then, crank it up.”

He took the microphone reluctantly and crooned with the music in perfect pitch:

There are places I’ll remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone, and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living…

Amidst the host’s calm applause, he quietly finished. “In my life, I’ve loved them all.”

“Very nice,” said Wesley.

“I don’t know,” said Angel. “You coulda had better projection.”

“Are you crazy?” said the host. “That was smashing! Here’s how the deal works, bro: you sing, I read your soul. And here’s what I’m getting. Your pipes are in top form, but buddy, your aura is not. You said it all: some are dead, some are living…and some were dead, THEN living…and that’s the part that concerns me. You’ve been repressing things for a long time with her, and now that she’s back you aren’t taking any chances. And it’s great that you have such passion. But she’s got issues too, buddy. All I’m saying is, go slow.”

**

Buffy awoke to a throbbing head and a smirking, not unattractive brunette staring curiously at her.

“Well, hello there,” said the woman. “I’m very pleased to meet you. I’ve only met one slayer before, and she went psychotic on me. I’m trusting you are still too drugged to do that?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Lilah Morgan.” Her chest puffed importantly. “I am the head of special projects for Wolfram and Hart.”

“Great. More Lawyers,” croaked a dull voice beside her. Cordelia, still splayed face-down on the ground, struggled to sit up.

Buffy shrugged. “Well, I’m alive, at least. That’s definitely an improvement over last time.”

Cordelia fixed her with a cranky glare. “You think so? You obviously haven’t dealt with very many lawyers then.” She sighed. “Sorry. What with the blinding headache and drug-induced semi-coma, I forgot that we were friends now.”

“Perfectly understandable. So, lawyer-lady, what’s the plan?”

Lilah shrugged. “For you? I don’t know. You were kind of a side gig on this one. For her?” She yawned. “Same as always. Keep her snatched long enough to distract Angel from decoding a prophecy that we’re trying to keep out of his sticky vampire hands.”

There was a knock on the door, and Lilah grimaced in annoyance. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said smoothly. I’ll be right back.”

**

“They should be back by now,” said Giles worriedly. “Do you suppose something’s happened?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” said Angel grouchily. “We usually find out about that sort of thing from Cordelia’s visions, but she isn’t here right now…”

“Well, that’s not MY fault. What do you suppose we…”

“EUREKA!” shouted Wesley.

“Excuse me?”

“We usually find out about this sort of thing from Cordelia’s visions, and she had one yesterday. She saw Buffy fighting.”

“Yes, and that’s happened already.”

“Once, yes. But Buffy fights very often, Angel. And you did say she had it all taken care of by the time you got there. Maybe that wasn’t the fight you were meant to help her with.”

Giles perked up. “What else did she see?”

Angel furrowed his brow in concentration. “Letters, I think. An H…she was sure about that…Wolfram and Hart!”

Wesley sighed. “Again? Very well. I’ll hook up with Willow and Tara, and you go save the girls.”

The game was afoot.

**

“You’re interrupting something very important,” Lilah hissed.

The vampire tossed back her blond hair with a nonchalant shrug. “I know. But Nathan said you had her, and I just wanted to see…”

She stood on tiptoes and peered through the tiny spyhole carefully. “Two of them? Why are there two of them?”

“We saw an opportunity to take care of our own business while we handled yours. The seer is our concern. But the slayer…well, we got her, as instructed. What’s next?”

“Next…”

“Right. I mean, you do have a plan? Something you want to do…”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m open to suggestions…”

“Suggestions? Do you know how hard it is to kidnap a vampire slayer?”

“Actually, I do. I’ve tried it several times.”

“And we went to all this trouble, for what, then? You told us you had a history with the slayer. That she had wronged you. That you wanted vengeance.”

“All of this is true…”

“You told us that you were powerful. Well-connected. So well-connected that you were part of Angel’s inner circle once. And so powerful that you betrayed him.”

“True, all true…”

“And now…we have a drugged and pissed off vampire slayer locked in our dungeon and nothing to do with her?”

Harmony sighed. “Well, to be honest, I didn’t really plan that far ahead. I didn’t think you’d really get her.” She sighed. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to kidnap a vampire slayer?”

**

“This is very worrisome,” fussed Giles.

Angel nodded. “I know. I mean, I’m used to running under a blanket and everything, but catching on fire is always a…”

“Not that, Angel. The girls. They’ve been kidnapped.”

“And?”

“And? Well, perhaps YOU can afford to be cavalier about it, but this simply is not a regular occurrence for Buffy. Do you have any idea how hard it is to kidnap a vampire slayer?”

Angel shrugged. “They’re lawyers. They have resources.”

**

“We can get out of here no problem,” reassured Buffy. “I mean, I am a vampire slayer, after all. We can get out.”

Cordelia shrugged. “I guess so.”

“What? You don’t think I can get us out?”

“Probably. If not, Angel will save us. I know how this works.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re staying calm,” quipped Buffy. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She rose and examined the door lock carefully. With a nod of satisfaction, she removed a bobby pin from her hair and twisted the wire into a small hook. After several minutes of fiddling, the door popped open.

“All right then,” said Buffy. “Let’s find a way out.”

**

“All right then,” said Giles. “Let’s find a way in.”

“That’ll be hard,” said Angel calmly. “On account of the vampire detectors.”

“Vampire detectors?”

He shrugged. “I told you they had resources.”

“Well, how do we get around them?”

“Usually, I just go in anyway and hope I can do my thing before they catch me.”

**

They were in a small hallway. “Which way?” asked Buffy.

Cordy shrugged. “Beats me.”

“But…I thought you said you’ve been here before. You oughta know your way around by now.”

“Well, usually, I don’t try to escape like this. Usually I wait for Angel to come rescue me.”

“Oh. You mean like that?”

Angel and Giles skulked into view. Cordelia smiled broadly and waved at them. That was when the vampires came.

**

They were down to their last minion. when Buffy finally recognized the leader. “Harmony?”

“Slayer. We meet again.”

“You’re the one behind all this?”

“Behind some of it,” Harmony admitted. “I am seeking my vengeance against you for past wrongs.”

“What wrongs?”

“Two words, Buffy: Spike. And Spike. Well, I guess that’s one word, but you get my drift.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You can have Spike, Harmony. I certainly don’t want him.”

The sparring stopped. “You don’t?”

“Nope. I have my own boyfriend now. Giles.”

“Ewwwww. Buffy, you’re dating a…a…a teacher!”

“Heavens forfend. Are we done? Can I go?”

“No,” boomed a silky voice.

“Hey, I said I was only responsible for part of it,” said Harmony. “She’s responsible for the other part.”

Lilah marched commandingly over to Angel, who was embracing Cordelia.

“Angel. We meet again.”

Angel shrugged. “So?”

“So…Cordelia is…well, she’s…”

“What, Lilah? What was this all about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, mister! You thought we didn’t know about the prophecy? You thought we would let you get away with performing your little magic?”

He blinked in confusion. “What prophecy?”

“The prophecy---about the witch that will return to power on the night of the full moon. Tomorrow is a full moon. And you…the witch…”

Behind them, they heard Giles laughing. “That’s what this is about? My god, woman, do you have any idea how many witches there are?”

“Excuse me?” she seethed.

“Look, Angel has nothing to do with this. I’m the one doing the spell. And the witch in question...well, do you really think she would still be a rat if she was so powerful?"

Lilah frowned. “She wasn’t powerful?”

“My dear, she was a teenager who did a stupid little spell she was unready for. We’re simply trying to put her back where she started.”

“You aren’t trying to unlock the gates of heaven and reincarnate the Powers-That-Be?”

“Absolutely not,” said Giles.

“So can we go now?” whined Cordelia.

Lilah shrugged. “I guess. I mean, if I kill you now, I can’t use you as bait next time, can I?”

Cordelia nodded. “I’m glad we understand each other.” She and Angel linked arms and started walking down the corridor. Buffy took a timid step after them, and Lilah boomed “Wait a minute, not you!”

Harmony shrugged. “I don’t mind, let them go. It was hard enough to kidnap her. Killing her would just be too…”

“Hard enough? What do you mean, hard enough? YOU didn’t kidnap anybody. I kidnapped her!”

Even from the distance of the parking lot, the former hostages could still here them arguing, some time later.

**

Sunday night, and Caritas was booming.

“No singing,” warned Cordy as they caught Lorne’s eye and waved. “Buffy, your guy may be hunka hunka burning karaoke, but Angel is…”

“…NOT singing,” agreed Lorne, popping up beside them, “And let’s just leave it at that.”

“Why not?” pouted Angel. “Maybe I want to sing. I’m in a good mood tonight.” He draped his arm possessively around Cordelia in apparent explanation.

“Lord save us all,” grumbled Lorne. “You can’t sing, Angel. And I’d spell out exactly why, but I don’t think you want me to embarrass you in front of your girl. Why don’t I make it ladies night and save us all the bother?”

Giles grinned. “How’d you like that, love?” he asked Buffy. “Let you do all the work for once?”

“I always do the work,” she teased. “That’s why they call you a watcher.”

“Now, now, no fighting,” chided Lorne. “I think we all deserve a happy night. And you know…I have just the thing.” He produced a microphone from behind his back. Ladies and gents, may I present…the one, the only, the reunited scooby gang, doing showtune medley number 5!”

As the girls took their places on stage, the host reappeared with drinks for Angel, Wesley, Xander and Giles.

“I thought you hated showtunes,” commented Giles.

“I do…they’re sacrilege for someone of your vocal caliber. But these kids…they’re just tone-deaf enough to pull it off. By the way, hombre, nice tie. The…blobs of sunshine…really suit your complexion.”

Giles blushed. “I…they aren’t blobs of sunshine. They…well, they’re daisies.”

Angel nodded. “Daisies are Buffy’s favourite.”

The host smiled. “I get it. Now that you’re publicly dating, she wants you to prove you’ll do anything for her.”

“I would!”

“I see that, buddy. And I think it’s very cute. Not as cute as showtune medley number 5, mind you…”

The first strains of slow, sweet music wafted from the speakers and the newly restored Amy took centre stage.

“Hello twelve, hello thirteen, hello love….changes, oh, down below, up above…”

“You don’t say,” muttered Xander thoughtfully. “You know, she isn’t that bad…”

“Time to doubt, to break out, it’s a mess, it’s a mess, time to grow, time to go, adolesce, adolesce. There’s a lot I am not certain of…hello twelve, hello thirteen, hello love…”

The beat abruptly changed, and Amy passed the mic to an already drunk Willow.

She slurred noticeably. “Ask me how do I feel, little me with my quiet upbringing…well, sir, all I can say is if I were a gate, I’d be swinging…and if I were a watch, I’d start popping my springs. Or if I were a bell I’d go ding-dong-ding-dong-ding…”

With a loopy smile, she passed the mic to Buffy as the beat changed tenor to a jaunty refrain.

“Fish gotta swim and birds gotta fly, I gotta love one man till I die, Can’t help lovin dat man of mine…”

“Awwww,” said Lorne. “Isn’t she a sweet one?”

The music trilled relentlessly. “Tell me he’s lazy, Tell me he’s slow…”

“You were saying?” grumbled Giles.

“Tell me I’m crazy, maybe I know, can’t help lovin dat man of mine…”

Giles clapped politely for his girl, and Buffy smiled proudly and passed the mic to Cordelia, who looked paralyzed with stage fright. The melody changed to a plaintive wail.

“Don’t you think it’s rather fu-unny…that I should be in this posi-ition, I’m the one…whose always been…so calm, so cool, no lover’s fool…running every show, he scares me so…”

“I scare her?” said Angel worriedly.

“It’s show tunes,” said Lorne. “You can’t read too much into it.”

“But music is the window to the soul, you’ve always said that,” worried Angel. “And Cordy is…”

“Cordy is having the time of her life,” said Lorne patiently. “Look…”

She swayed with the rhythm, finally falling dramatically into Buffy’s arms as the music speeded up and a disgusted-looking Anya snatched the microphone, dancing poorly and energetically in time with the words:

“I am just seven hours old…and truly beautiful to behold…now somebody should be told…that my libido hasn’t been controlled. Now the only thing I’ve come to trust…is an orgasmic rush of lust…rose tints my world and keeps me safe from my trouble and pain…”

Giles chuckled. “Well, that’s one way to look at it, I suppose.”

“Definitely,” agreed Xander. “And may I say, far less complicated for everyone involved than ‘he scares me so’…”

Amidst the lascivious cheers for Anya from the drunken patrons, nobody noticed Tara pick up the microphone and thoughtfully pour her heart into the simple melody:

“You know life is so peculiar. You get so wet in the rain. You get so warm in the sunshine, it doesn’t pay to complain. Now when I sit down to breakfast, there ain’t nothing to eat but food…”

She smiled. “Life is so peculiar that you can’t stay home and brood…cause that’s life! That’s life! That’s…life!”

As the girls segued into a rousing group effort of Grease’s “We Go Together,” the host jumped to his feet. “Sorry to leave this fascinating convo mid-obsess,” he told them. “But you know, I have to be onstage for the finale…”

Finale, as defined by the Oxford English Dictionary: a piece of music closing an act in an opera. The close of a drama. A conclusion. And, in rare instances of serendipity, all three. His smooth, even voice far overpowered their inferior ones as the music swelled:

“Loving one who loves you, and then taking that vow. Nice work, if you can get it. And if you get it…won’t you tell me how…”

**

2: Ain’t Nobody Here But us Chickens

Wednesday night at Caritas, and the music was roaring.

“Did it ever occur to you,” observed Wesley, “How very many significant events in our lives seem to involve him?”

He flicked his thumb at the podium, where the host, resplendent in pink suede, was cranking up the music.

Angel shrugged. “This is not an event, Wesley. It’s a party.”

“Not that you could tell from hanging with YOU,” grumbled Cordelia. “Could you be trying any less to have fun, Angel?”

He met her playful smile with a glare of discomfort, and abruptly, she melted. “Hey, I was only teasing,” she told him gently. “There’s been a lot of goodbyes in your life lately, hasn’t there?”

She nodded at the banner that hung resplendently over the podium: GOOD LUCK, KATE, it said. “I know you’ve gotten close to her, after your…epiphany. But it’s not like…well, just cause she’s moving on doesn’t mean she’s moving ON, you know?”

“And she won’t be going far,” added Gunn. “Sunnydale is, what, two hours away?”

Cordelia nodded. “Who would have though that someone like Kate would wind up there?”

“Well, it’s not like she was drowning in options since the LAPD fired her,” said Gunn. “Worked out well that the Sunnydale PD had openings, and was willing to take her.”

Angel looked dubious. “Sunnydale PD always has openings,” he said gloomily. “And they’ll take anyone.”

“Oh, come on,” encouraged Wesley. “It’s not like she won’t be in good hands. Why, with the host and I in Sunnydale this weekend for the…”

Cordelia swatted his arm playfully. “Stop bragging, watcher-boy. You’ve been rubbing it in for days that the host is letting you tag along to his demon bartender convention.”

“I just meant that we’ll be able to look out for her, help her settle in,” he pouted defensively. “But I am certainly rather excited about the convention. I imagine there will be all sorts of demon species…”

Angel continued to sulk gloomily, and Gunn clapped him on that back. “Tell you what, Angel,” he said. “I think this might be a better situation than you think. See, you’ve already gotten rid of Wesley and the host for three whole days, and who wouldn’t be happy about that?”

Wesley glowered, and Gunn rolled his eyes impatiently. “Like you don’t know I love you. Just teasing, man. Anyway, the point is that my pal Abraham is painting his basement this weekend, and I’m thinking he could use a hand. You see what I’m saying?”

Angel sat down at the table with a heavy sigh. “Kate is leaving.”

Gunn nodded. “And so is everyone else. Man, you and Cordelia will be all alone…”

Slowly, the realization sunk in. “We will!”

Gunn chuckled. “I’m thinking she’s the perfect one to cheer you up over the Kate being two hours away thing. I can already see the wheels turning in that pretty little head of hers.”

“Well, we can’t have TOO much fun,” Cordelia pouted. “Curse issues.”

“Not a problem,” said Lorne, sidling up behind them.

Angel blinked. “What?”

“I said it’s not a problem. You know, the curse thing?”

Cordy’s eyes widened. “You mean…”

“No, no, of course not,” said Lorne. “He still HAS the curse. It’s just not a problem. Look, let’s just say that the PTB have no more interest in reviving Angelus than you do, hon. Trust me when I tell you that these things have a way of working themselves out.”

Cordelia frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? And stop sneaking up on us like that, you’re as bad as Angel!”

“You’ll find out soon enough. Have a nice weekend, kiddies.”

He waltzed off, and when the gang finally returned their attention to the party, an exuberant Lorne had finally claimed his dance with the glowing guest of honour.

“Man, she looks happy,” observed Gunn wistfully.

“Indeed,” said Wesley. “Heading into a whole new life…”

Cordelia, reaching for her drink, suddenly paused. “Somebody did tell her about the hellmouth, right?”

**

Rupert Giles awoke to the gentle tickle of a mass of blond hair snuggling into his chest.

“Ummmm, morning, love,” he murmured softly.

“Hey sleepyhead. Do you know what day it is?”

He tucked his arms behind her and began to gently rub her back. “What?”

“Thursday,” she pouted. “Today is Thursday day, and tonight is therefore Thursday night.”

He blinked in confusion. “And?”

“And?” she slapped his arm away. “Have you already forgotten? Dawn’s long-standing Thursday night babysitting gig with the Delaney’s down the street? Buffy with the place to herself and no small annoying sister to worry about?”

“Oh. Well, I’m assuming you have plans, then?”

She sighed. “I was hoping you did. You can’t expect me to think of everything, Rupert.”

Ouch, his first name. She only did that when she was angry with him. “Well, I’m sure we could…” He struggled desperately to improvise, considering he had only just woken up. “Well, something always comes up,” he said.

“Right,” she said darkly. “Something always does.”

The phone shrilled. “Exhibit A,” groaned Buffy. She snatched the receiver. “Hello?”

“Buffy?” It was Willow. “I thought I’d find you there. Tough night?”

She paused, suspicious. “Why?”

“Well, crashing with Giles…must have been a late patrol…”

“Yup,” Buffy muttered unenthusiastically. “Tough patrol.” Although they hadn’t exactly tried to hide their new relationship from her friends, Buffy and Giles had not gone out of their way to flaunt it either. At least, not with their Sunnydale friends…

“Anyway, just wondering when you’d be stopping by to pick up Dawn,” finished Willow. “Tara and I leave for our camping trip in an hour…”

“Right, the solstice thing. Um, can you drop her off at the house?” Buffy eyed the still-naked Giles with a mischievous smile. “Giles and I have some work to finish up…”

**

The realtor ushered her into the living room, smiling encouragingly.

“Well?”

“Well, it looks all right,” said Kate. “I guess. Comes furnished?”

He nodded. “Yup. And this is quality stuff, Ms Lockley. Perfect for an up-and-coming professional such as yourself.”

“And the owner?” said Kate. “I mean, if they’re giving up a house like this…” With a gesture, she took in the smooth oak paneling, the hallway leading to the spacious porch and powder room, the carpeted staircase….

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” he assured her hurriedly. “The house is fine. The owners…well, what I heard is they’ve got a daughter in Phoenix just had a baby…they’re thinking of moving out there to help out, thought they’d test the waters for a couple months first…they’re more then happy to rent their home to a solid professional like you. Law enforcement, did you say?”

She nodded. “Just…um…transferred. To the Sunnydale PD?”

The realtor smiled. “I’ve always had the greatest of respect for the police, Ms Lockley. And to be honest, I think this neighbourhood could use an eye like yours on the streets, you know what I’m saying?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “No. What ARE you saying?”

He backpedaled furiously. “Nothing to be concerned about, mind you. Really a very minor thing. Just those kids next door…they could use an extra eye is all. Very sad…dad not around, then their mother died, and there’s just the two of them…little one and a bigger one, and that bigger one…well, she’s trouble, I’m afraid. Out till all hours, and disappears for days at a time…”

Kate frowned, peeking through the window at the mysterious house next door. “I don’t want trouble…” she said carefully.

“No trouble at all,” said the realtor smoothly. “Mark my words, Kate Lockley, you’ll be very happy here at 1632 Revello Drive.”

**

“Nice evening?”

She tugged his coat around her more tightly. “Hmmm?”

“I asked you if you had a nice evening,” he told her. He held the door open, ushering her into the hotel. “Want me to walk you home, or are you gonna crash here?”

“Are you kidding? Wesley and Lorne gone, and Gunn graciously staying out of our way, I’m crashing here all weekend!”

He grinned shyly. “I’d like that.” He reached for the coat. “May I?”

Her eyes flashed alarm briefly before she took her hands away uncertainly. “What?”

He gave her a devilish smile. “Well, you didn’t think I’d let you keep it, did you? You know how hard it is to find a good leather duster these days?”

“Angel…”

He lowered his eyes. “Sorry. Guess it’s been awhile since I’ve done the teasy flirty thing.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh!”

“I just meant,” he continued, “That I went to all this trouble to wrap you up all snug and warm and everything, and it’s only fair I should get to unwrap you…”

He slid off the coat and gently fingered the taut material of her slinky purple dress. Women’s clothing sure had changed since his day. Why, when he was growing up, the more layers of puffy lace a woman wore, the sexier she would be. That Cordelia could accomplish the effect she did with so very little fabric…

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. Shiny purple clinging to her thigh, to her breasts…flaring out the tiniest bit at the calf…

“If I had a heart, you would stop it beating…” he whispered hoarsely.

She rolled her eyes. “And if you had breath, I would knock it out of you?” She sighed. “Guess a lot of good make-out lines get wasted when a girl’s dating a vampire, huh?”

He pulled away from her, looking serious. “Cordelia…are you okay with this? Really?”

She shrugged. “I guess so. I mean, it’s not what I would have planned for myself, is it? But it’s not like I can help it, Angel. I can’t help the way I feel, and if being happy means I have to compromise on certain things…”

“It’s not certain things,” he said soberly. “It’s major things. No sunlit walks on the beach…”

“But lots of moonlit walks,” she countered.

“There’s the whole blood thing…”

“So? You like blood, which I find gross. I like cookie dough ice cream and all-dressed potato chips, which you find gross…”

“That’s not a fair comparison. Cookie dough has raw eggs, which is a health hazard. And all-dressed…that’s just wrong. I mean, why mix all the flavours when you could just pick one and enjoy it? But Cordelia…”

“I know,” she told him insistently. “Angel, I know all about it. I’ve seen Buffy do it, albeit from afar and with alarming disinterest, but I know how wrong it can go. But I also know how happy you make me. I understand the no sex thing. I understand that if anything goes wrong, you could really hurt me. But Angel, dating a human gives no guarantees either. Human people have hurt me before, and hurt me badly.”

She took his hand. “Love is a risk, but Angel, I think I would die if I couldn’t believe it was sometimes worth it.”

He reached over to brush a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, and his hand brushed against her breast. He stared at her beautiful face, mesmerized. “Cordelia…”

His hand went unconsciously to the back of her dress, fingers sliding down the zipper, catching the mottled fabric as it slid off her slender form. He felt a stirring, deep within himself, a magical, powerful tug, like he was on the verge of…

She broke away from him, choking off a terrified scream as she collapsed half-naked to the floor. The spell instantly broken, he embraced her as she writhed in his arms.

“Vision,” she choked. “Angel…”

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Deep breaths, It’s okay, baby, it’s okay…”

“Vampires,” she gasped. “Ten or twenty at least. Sacrifice…a raising, they’re using them to…”

Her back arched, and he held her tightly as she moaned again. “A calendar….can’t make it out…S something…Saturday? Sunday? Raising…god, Angel, we can’t let them finish, or they’ll…”

“Shhh, I’ve got you, it’s okay…”

She collapsed in his arms, sobbing. “We’re gonna need reinforcements for this one, Angel. So much for our weekend alone.”

He sighed. “I’ll call Buffy.”

She clung to his arm for leverage and pulled herself upright. “Damn visions…those PTB have a real knack for timing, don’t they? Hell of a way to kill the mood…”

She was already straightening her hair, and did not see Angel stop cold, an odd look on his face. It WAS a hell of a way to kill the mood. And he was just realizing that was probably the point. What was it Lorne had told them?

[Let’s just say that the PTB have no more interest in reviving Angelus than you do. Trust me when I tell you that these things have a way of working themselves out.]

**

He loved waking up to a soft, blond head on his chest.

“Good morning, again,” he whispered.

Buffy stretched slowly awake. “Giles? I…oh god, Dawn! She’s…”

He wrapped his arms around her. “She’s fine, love. I sent Spike around…”

She rubbed her eyes blearily. “You did? When?”

“Just before you passed out in exhaustion on my couch. You were in the shower…”

She shuddered. “I still don’t feel clean. Ten vamps in one patrol…that’s a lot of dust. Is something big going on that we don’t know about?”

On cue, the phone howled. “And that is so my fault,” she grumbled. “Hello?”

“Our new neighbour is a demon,” greeted Dawn cheerfully. “Oh, and good morning.”

“Good morning, and WHAT?”

“New neighbour. Smallish blond chick with lots of cheesy art books, a crappy car, and a green-skinned demon skulking in the back seat. He was wearing a baseball cap, but I saw horns.”

“Are you…I mean…”

“Fine, fine, had a great night, babysat, walked home with Spike…he crashed on our couch, by the way--- daylight and all, and you not coming home…”

“Sorry, bad patrol. But you’re okay? Nothing happ…”

“Didn’t say that,” teased Dawn.

“Dawn…”

“Fine, fine, geez, lay off the parent mode. All I mean is, Angel called.”

She felt fists clenching. “Is everything all right?”

Her sister yawned, bored. “With me, yes. Spike’s making me pancakes. With Angel…not so much. Something about unfinished business…raising something, vision something, I don’t know. But Wesley’s out of town, and he needs backup.”

Buffy frowned, already furiously making plans. “Dawnie, put Spike on.”

Muffled clattering, muffled shouts, then a cheerful “’lo, Slayer.”

“Spike. I need you to watch Dawn this weekend,” she told him.

“And why might that be?” he drawled.

“I’m going to L.A. again. Business.”

His smirk was near-audible. “Really? Business, is it? And would that business involve certain old poofters some of us know?”

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but maybe. Look, can you watch Dawn or not?”

“No can do, Slayer. I’ve got me some plans for the weekend.”

“You have plans.”

“Fraid so, love. Good luck with the little bit, though. Hope you find someone to take ‘er.”

Buffy had already hung up the phone, so she didn’t hear Spike’s tiny little cackle as he replaced the phone. Damn right he had plans. That watcher’s new set of wheels was a bit more cramped than his old one, but it’s not like Spike really needed the oxygen anyway since he’d be stowing away in the trunk and all. He’d been meaning to go visit his sodding sap of a sire ever since Dru had shown up, and damned if he was going to pass up a free ride to Los Angeles…

**

“Soda?” Kate plopped down on the couch, exhausted, and flashed Lorne a tired smile. “I haven’t had a chance to do any shopping yet, but there’s a cooler somewhere, and I’m fairly sure I could offer you a soda.”

He shrugged. “I’ll survive. You sure you don’t want me to stay the weekend, Katie? Make sure you settle in okay?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine, really. And you’ve been a big enough help already. Anyway, Wesley’ll kill you if you don’t get him in to see any demons soon. How’d you manage to ditch him, anyway?”

“I didn’t. Tradeshow doesn’t start until tomorrow, but I got him passes to the seminars. Last I checked, he was trying to decide between ‘getting maximum entertainment value out of YOUR chaos demon’ and ‘beyond alcohol: ten easy ways to spice up your drinks.’ He could hardly contain himself.”

Kate chuckled. “I don’t think I want to know. I mean, I know I’ve said this before, but I mean it this time. I really don’t want to know.”

“Ah, the happy face of denial.” He grew serious. “You know I love you, Katie, but this burying your head in the sand habit…it worries me sometimes. You think you’ll escape the monsters and vampires just by moving to another town?”

“Come on, Lorne, you’re the one who wrote away for the chamber of commerce package. This is a small, peaceful town. I mean, they only have one Starbucks, for god’s sake. How bad can it be?”

**

“Oooh, groceries! And just when I was in the mood for a break!”

Cordelia reached eagerly for the largest bag, but Angel held her back with a lascivious arm around her waist.

“Been working hard, have you?”

She tried to shrug him off. “Angel…”

“Sweeping, cleaning, moving stuff around…little bits of bright, shiny dust clinging to your soft, sweaty skin…”

She giggled. “Angel!”

“Sun-streaked hair falling into your eyes, muscles tightening in warm, strong waves of…”

She regarded him curiously. “You know, you have a real sweat fetish, vamp-boy. Is it cause you don’t?” She removed his arm gently, but firmly. “Not that I mean to cut short a cuddle session, but I’ve been working all morning to get this place ready for company, and I don’t think they’d appreciate spoiled food. Unpack first. Collapse in sweaty heap of cuddles second.”

She reached for the bag again, groaning as she stretched out a kink in her back. “You really have been working hard,” observed Angel.

“Tell me about it. I mean, I know Buffy and Giles have already been here and everything, but somehow it feels different this time, now that you and I are…well, now that we…”

“Can’t blame the mess on my broody recluse thing anymore?”

She regarded him oddly. “Something like that. Anyway, I decided that if I have to share my romantic weekend with happy couple number two, I may as well do things right. Wash the sheets, vacuum ALL the carpets, dust the chandelier…”

“We have a chandelier?”

“Of course, silly. How else do you light the ballroom?”

“Oh. Right.”

“And once I had it all lit up and saw the detailing…”

He smiled. “Of course…”

“So there’s another two hours of polishing…who would have thought that was real oak paneling in there…?”

Somewhere in his brain, an alarm bell went off. She had not just spent the whole morning cleaning. She had spent it CLEANING. Polishing every tiny groove in the antique staircase. Fluffing every pillow on every couch…finding ten thousand tiny details to take her attention off the one big one she was most concerned about…

“I thought you and Buffy had worked things out,” he said quietly.

“I…what?”

“You’re nervous.” he told her. “About having them here…Buffy and Giles…”

She sighed. “It’s not…well, they’ve been here before, Angel. But so have Willow and Tara and Wesley and Gunn and Xander and Anya and Lorne and…”

“And this time it’s just us,” he realized. “You and me…alone with them.”

She nodded. “I know it’s silly. But Angel, it’s still so new. The you and me. The her and me. The them. And let’s face it, Angel, none of us have great track records with being the mature ones on this sort of thing…”

She reached into the bag again. “Anyway, I’m wiped. And YOU came in just in time to…”

With alarming lack of warning, her face hardened and her voice morphed from pensive sentiment to frightening ice. “Angel? What’s this?” She held up a sticky carton.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s ice cream.”

“One task I give you, ONE task…and you can’t even…”

“Cordy…”

“I just wanted…in case Buffy and I…was it such a big deal? Was it so impossible to just do this one little thing, get me proper ice cream, and…”

“I did,” he protested. “That was the most expensive kind of ice cream they…”

She was beyond hearing him. Body shaking, she waved the carton at him accusingly. “All I wanted was a simple carton of mint double chip cookie dough, but this…” She waved the offending carton in his face. “This is mint double chip cookie CRUNCH…”

It was too much. Her romantic weekend in ruins, head still spinning from an unsolved vision, evil somethings at their heels and the still only dubiously friendly Buffy on her way, and now this…it was too much. A confused and oddly terrified Angel watched helplessly as her face crumpled and she burst into tears.

**

“Give me five minutes,” said Buffy confidently. “I just have to grab a few things, get Dawn squared away, and we’ll be ready to…”

Giles smiled. “Might take a bit longer than that, love.” With a nod, he indicated the porch swing of Buffy’s house, where Dawn, slurping an ice cream cone, was comfortably ensconced in conversation with a total stranger.

Buffy frowned. “New neighbour? This is SO not the time…”

With a deep sigh, Buffy clambered out of Giles’ car and trooped up to her sister. Dawn inhaled the last of her ice cream cone with an audible slurp, then beamed her a sticky smile.

“Hey Buffy.”

“Hey Dawn. Who’s this?”

The woman extended her hand. “Kate Lockley, pleasure to meet you.”

Buffy took the proffered hand warily, mouthing “demon?” at Dawn. Dawn shook her head.

“Likewise,” said Buffy carefully. “Um, welcome to the neighbourhood and all, and not meaning to be rude or anything, but I’m kind of in a hurry here, and if I could just borrow Dawn…”

Kate instantly jumped to her feet. “Say no more. It’s time I got back to my unpacking…”

Two steps later, she was in her own yard, and under the pretense of adjusting a loose screw in her mailbox, eavesdropping.

“You know the drill,” Buffy was saying. “I’m sorry, Dawnie, I hate to do this to you two weeks in a row, but…”

“I know, I know, big scary work stuff that you can’t talk about with me. Spike’ll be over in time to make me dinner…”

Buffy shook her head. “Not Spike.”

“Spike’s busy? But…well, it’s ok I guess. Willow and Tara still owe me a slumber party, after…”

Buffy sighed. “Nope.”

A flicker of agitation. The younger girl, voice rising, pleaded “Not Xander and Anya again? Buffy…”

Buffy gave her sister a weak smile of apology and quietly said “Not Xander.”

Dawn collapsed on the steps with a plaintive “What?”

“Dawnie, I’m sorry, but I talked with Xander half an hour ago and he’s tied up in Dutton on some work thing. I don’t know when he’ll be back. But Anya was happy to…”

“I don’t LIKE Anya,” whined Dawn. “Buffy, she makes me play stupid board games that she always wins, and she always says stupid things, and…”

“…and she is Xander’s girlfriend, someone who has proven herself to us many times before, and unfortunately for you in this instance, the only responsible adult available. Sorry, sweetie. There’s pizza in the fridge if you get hungry, and Anya will pick you up as soon as she gets off work at the magic shop. Be good?”

“Buffy…”

“Be good,” said Buffy more insistently. “Love you?”

“Whatever.”

**

“Last time I turned evil, I didn’t have to work this hard.”

Prickly goosebumps of impatience blistered Lilah Morgan’s arm. “Last time,” she hissed, “You were a hack. This time…well, unlike some people, I took the time to get myself an education before I started plotting against my enemies.”

“I’m dead,” sniffled Harmony. “It’s not exactly my fault that I can’t…”

“Oh stop,” grumbled Lilah, forcing an encouraging smile. “The important thing is that you’re here now, and you have a chance to learn from the pros on this. Before I came along, you were ready to give up, weren’t you?”

“Well, the prophecy said they could only do the power spell on a full moon, and we won’t have one of those for another…”

“Yes, but that’s assuming we translated properly and that a power spell is what they were really doing.”

“We translated wrong?”

Lilah sighed. “Look, all I’m saying is that there are a lot of variables at work here. Never hurts to cover all the bases…”

“And that’s why we’re doing the raising?”

“Exactly. It’s time to bring a player into this game who knows a little more about translating ancient prophecies than I do.” Lilah rubbed her hands together gleefully. “And this new player just happening to be an old enemy of Angelus…well, so much the better for us, Harmony. So much the better for us.”

**

“She’ll be all right,” he said quietly, offering her a reassuring pat on the knee. It was at least the tenth time Giles had offered such a reassurance, and her silence was beginning to worry him. Perhaps he had misjudged the situation. Perhaps Buffy’s mood was not at all connected to leaving Dawn alone again…

“Buffy?”

She blinked, and finally met his gaze. “Oh. Are we there already?”

“A few minutes. But Buffy, love, are you…I mean, what’s…”

She sighed. “Oh, fine, I’ll talk. You know I can never keep up with the silent treatment once you start stuttering. So, you want to know what’s up with the Angel-calibre brooding, what has me all mentally retreaty and pensively not-talking, and which of the numerous and sundry things I have to worry about is worrying me the most at this very moment?”

He reached for the brake, and she held him back with a gentle smile. “Hey, no worries, Giles, this isn’t one of those need-to-pull-over conversations. It’s not you I’m worried about. I just…well, leaving Sunnydale, it’s…I know, evil is evil is evil and it shouldn’t matter and I do my job and life’s all good and save the world and everything. But in Sunnydale…well, at least in Sunnydale, I don’t have my feelings to worry about on top of everything else.”

He frowned. “I don’t…Buffy, are you…”

“Oh god, will you just please relax already? Trust me when I tell you this is not something profound enough to get stuttery over. It’s just that I’m feeling kind of split about this whole new alliance thingy with Angel. I mean, part of me is going ‘oh, nasty evil, that’s bad’ and part of me is going ‘yay, roadtrip, that’s good.’ And part of me is going ‘oh, semi-awkward ex-boyfriend’ and the other part is going ‘yay, cause at least he knows about us and we don’t have to play just friends on account of Dawn’ while we’re here. And part of me is going ‘yay, a break from Dawn,’ who has been unbelievably pesty ever since we came back from L.A. last weekend, and the other part is going ‘way to be a bad guardian, Buffy, and leave the poor kid alone yet again while you…you know.”

“I do. And Buffy, I think this only proves why we really must tell her about us as soon as we return to Sunnydale. I know you are reluctant to inflict further upheavals on her, but clearly the secrecy is affecting the way you and she…”

Buffy held up a hand. “Whoa, Giles, I think we’ve done enough touchy-feely for the time being. And that conversation IS one we need to pull over for. Not now?”

He gunned the accelerator, biting his tongue.

**

“I thought they’d be here earlier,” said Angel off-handedly.

Cordelia smiled weakly. “I hadn’t noticed. But unlike some of us, I wasn’t hanging by the front desk all afternoon counting down the minutes…”

He suspected there was a tone in her voice that he should be noticing. “Cordelia…”

“Don’t,” she sighed.

He blinked in confusion. “What?”

“You do that whenever you aren’t sure what you’re supposed to say, Angel. You say my name and then trail off. It’s really irritating.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Geez, you do that too. You know, you really need some new lines, Angel. If Lorne were around and we didn’t have this raising to worry about…Are you sorry? Do you even know what you should be sorry about?” She climbed to her feet and gave him a resigned smile when she caught his mopey face. “Oh, fine,” she sighed. “Look, I’m the one whose sorry. It’s not your fault I’m having a crappy day. I mean, it’s not like you chose to give me a vision or anything…”

She missed the slight catch in his throat as he abruptly melted, scooping her in his arms. “Oh, Cordy…it’s still bothering you?”

“Duh, they always do until we fix ‘em. No worries though, right? Backup’s on the way, and we have a pretty good idea of whose involved in this. And it’s not like Lilah is the scariest villain ever or anything. Barely a big-bad at all, right? More like…a little bad?”

He smiled and nodded, but mentally, his heart was racing. Little bads are still bad, aren’t they? And while Wolfram and Hart had failed to best him on more than one occasion, there had been one time where they HAD won. There had been one spell that they HAD pulled off. And that spell…had also been a raising…

**

“This the same room we had last time?”

Giles eyes their surroundings critically. “Don’t suppose it makes much difference,” he grumbled.

“I know, Angel’s not so big on the decorating. But hey, a hotel’s a hotel, you know? Maybe we could get room service up here. I thought I heard Cordy say something about ice cream?”

He smiled. “I think we have better things to do than eat liquefied sugar, Buffy.”

She clapped her hands in delight. “You DID bring the handcuffs, I knew you would! Something about hotels always brings out the…”

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should…it’s been a long day, and…”

He flopped tiredly on the bed, and she bounced onto the pillows beside him, one hand resting on his thigh while the other fumbled in his suitcase. Tossing aside at least seven books, she finally found what she was looking for, and put it down on the bed beside her. She pondered the discarded stack of books suspiciously.

“Giles?”

“Hmm?”

“When you said better things to do…you did mean sex, right?”

**

Spike basked in the silence for one delicious moment longer, then popped the trunk. Those two had spent the whole ride yapping, and even his walkman, cranked to maximum to properly convey the majesty that was Great Big Sea, couldn’t drown out their tedious fidgeting. With English being all ‘Oh dear, are you all right, sweetheart?’ and Slayer being all ‘Woe is me, life sucks and now I must spend some of it with my downer of an ex-boyfriend…’ Well, it’s a wonder Spike could enjoy himself at all. Rockin’ fiddle music and fantasizing about pranks you can play on certain vampires you’re stowing away to go bother…well, that can only take one so far…

He shook off his impatience. He was here now, and that was the important thing. He stretched luxuriously and pondered his next move. Should he make himself known, prank about and make a nuisance of himself? Or should he lurk about furtively, spy a little, scout the lay of the land?

He cracked his knuckles, grinning mischievously. It was good to be a bloke with options.

**

Through the haze of flying debris, he caught a glimpse of her tangled hair and smiled. She looked so beautiful at night: face scrubbed clean of dirt and make-up, hair finally relaxed from the daily tease she put it through, feet finally free of heels and platforms, and entire body made charmingly short and small as a consequence…she looked so beautiful at night…

She turned those beautiful features on him with an angry pout, face peeking out from underneath the bed. “So you’re just gonna stand there, are you? Not gonna help me look?”

She kicked a stray broadsword from underneath the bed, coughing at the sudden cloud of dust that strangled her.

“Look for what?”

Her eyes glazed over with barely contained impatience. “Duh, my purple scrunchie. Have you been paying even the tiniest bit of attention to me as I’ve been tearing the room apart for the last twenty minutes looking for it?”

“Cordelia…”

“Aggggh! Don’t do that! Angel, I…”

He knelt beside her, carefully positioning his gentle smile at her eye level. “It’s okay,” he said simply. “I love you.”

She softened, eyes shining. “God, you really do, don’t you?” she said softly. “Angel, I’m sorry---I’ve been a bit wound up today, haven’t I?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into an easy cuddle. “I understand.”

“No, Angel, it’s okay, really. You can say it: Cordelia, you have been a bitch today. You are letting this whole Buffy visit-slash-evil lawyer-slash-impending doom situation get to you, and you are taking it out on poor defenseless Angel. Say it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Doom’s impending, but it’s not here yet. We’re still okay.”

Her body finally let go of its tension altogether, and he cradled her soft, smooth skin in his arms as she closed her eyes and relaxed into him. “Sometimes you really surprise me,” she said quietly. “Just when I think you are the most clueless guy who ever lived---or unlived, as the case may be---you come out with just the right thing…You’re right, you know. We’re okay, and we’ll be okay, and whatever’s coming, we can handle it.” She reached a slender arm toward his face and touched his smile with frank wonder.

“So beautiful,” she whispered. She touched him softly, exploring the curves of his face, the slant of his jaw…one hand gently caressed his cold, vampire skin and the other…the other she drew behind him, sweeping toward his back, then abruptly stopping short, a twinkle in her eye.

“What do you know?” she told him. “I think I just found my purple scrunchie…”

He gently took it from her grasp and fingered the silky material thoughtfully. He loved Cordelia in purple. She was his beauty, his friend, his…his beauty…he eased her to the floor and sprawled beside her, lovingly tracing the contours of her body with this new toy. Under his hand, the purple scrunchie snaked between the folds of her robe, up her arm and down her back, across her breast and slowly, softly down her thigh before it slipped from his grasp completely and he felt his hand against her bare, warm skin…

She stiffened, stifling a scream, body abruptly jerking away from him. Vision…

It’s all right, he soothed as she struggled to catch her breath and choke out what details she could remember. Wolfram and Hart. Cavern. Raising. You’re okay, he whispered, over and over again. A dark-haired woman, wearing a watch. Very good, very good. She screamed again, louder this time, as the pain consumed her. Can’t make out the clock-face, she told him. Little hand at the six, I think. So dark…candles…god, Angel, there’s a light, a whoosh, a cloud---did it work? Are they---god, Angel, it hurts so much, and I’m still not over the last one. A nightmare, those Powers, they couldn’t even give us one happy moment, could they?

That question, he didn’t respond to. He gathered her still-trembling body in his arms and gently deposited her onto his bed. You’ll be all right, he soothed. He lay impatiently with her until she drifted off, then leapt from the bed and started pounding on Buffy’s door as soon as he found it. Two happy moments. Two visions. Too coincidental. He had to talk to Giles.

**

“All quiet on the Western front?”

She squinted at the shadows in Angel’s garden courtyard. “Spike? What are you…I mean, how did…what are you doing here?”

“Lo Slayer. What---visiting Angel, same as you. How---trunk of your car, same as always. And what again---well, that’s debatable, love. We’ll see how it goes.”

“You came with US?”

“Well, no need to get pissy about it, Slayer. Not like you didn’t already know what a bad boy I am…”

“But I…”

“Asked me if I had plans. And I did, love. Plans to hitch a ride with you and give my duncy sire a visit. Didn’t know I’d find him all mooning and in love! I mean, did you see him earlier? All oooh, pretty girl, and she wants to shag me but I can’t because of my poncy little curse thing, so I’ll just moon at her from across the room while I watch her brush her hair…I mean…boring! Would have enjoyed myself more playing Rummy and eating s’mores with the little bit. Finally figured out how to heat the damn things in the microwave without the marshmallow exploding all over the place…”

“That’s nice. I think.”

“Whatcha doing out at this hour, Slayer? Whaling on the big bads?”

She sighed. “Hardly. Didn’t have a chance to grab my shoes when Angel kicked me out…”

Spike nodded. “Ah. The old poofter’s having issues, is he?”

Buffy shrugged. “I guess. Maybe, I don’t know. Issues don’t like seem like the kind of thing he’d go to Giles over, do they?”

“Why not? Ent going to you on ‘em, is he? You being an ex and all…”

She rode out the prickly wave of panicked suspicion quietly, not really feeling like being drawn in. “So what brings you out here?”

He shrugged. “Too much human drama crap floating around in there, what with the watcher and you, and that little visioned pet of Angel’s…”

She smirked. “Well, nobody asked you to come, Spike.”

He huffed, turning away from her with a faint sniffle. “Bleeding human…”

“What? Spike, I hardly think name-calling is called for, especially since you’re the one who…”

He held up an impatient hand, sniffling more insistently. “I meant…literally?”

He hopped to his feet, and she followed him into the dark hotel, through the cavernous lobby, and into the tiny inner office. A kettle whistled on the counter, and Cordelia slumped weakly at the table, halfheartedly dabbing at a cut on her forehead with a ratty kleenex.

“Cordelia?” Buffy hurried to her friend’s side, in full crisis mode. “Cordy, what happened? Spike, turn off the kettle, will you, and…Cordy? Here, let me…” She unclenched Cordelia’s fist and scooped away the scraps of tissue. With practiced efficiency, she snatched the first aid kit from Spike’s hand and dressed the small cut gently. Cordelia winced noticeably, but otherwise did not react.

“Cordy?”

“Something’s wrong,” Cordelia finally managed.

“Cordy, I…what?”

“Something. Wrong. And he won’t…Buffy, I…”

“Uh huh. Not that the cryptic-talk isn’t fun and all, but Cordy, use sentences! Why don’t we start with something simple and factual, such as how you got that cut?”

Cordelia winced again. “Vision, what else? I was still kinda shaky when Angel bolted, and I came down here to make some tea…” She rubbed her forehead gingerly. “It was so dark, and I was so dizzy…I think I walked into a doorframe or a banister or something.”

Spike sniffed the air delicately. “Banister,” he confirmed. “That little scrolly bit up top…”

Cordy blinked dizzily. “What’s he doing here?”

“Visiting you, pet. Well, not really, but since the whole Angel thing’s a deadly boring bust, I may as well switch targets…”

Buffy glared, and he sulked off to the corner, watching the girls with some amusement.

“You sure you’re okay?” asked Buffy slowly.

Cordelia shook her head, blinking queasily at the motion. “No, I’m not. And Angel…he’s been so good about the visions, especially since they’ve been…it wasn’t the right-away kind of vision, you know? We didn’t have to go solve it now…so why’d he run out like that, while I was still…”

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know, but he looked pretty freaked when I saw him.”

When Cordelia spoke again, it was with terrifyingly controlled precision. “Buffy? When did you see Angel?”

“When he came to my room,” said Buffy patiently.

Cordelia nodded, face icy. “Oh.”

**

“This is a little awkward,” began Angel nervously.

Giles regarded him warily. “Perhaps it might be less so if you would sit down? Perhaps stop that incredibly distracting pacing of yours?”

Angel obediently sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping his eyes carefully leveled at the neutral territory of the floor.

“Just…well, this isn’t exactly easy for me to talk about. With anyone. With you.” He examined a fingernail intently. “It’s about…let’s see, how can I…”

“Start from the beginning,” said Giles gently.

Angel nodded. “Okay. A few days ago, when we were at Caritas, the host told me that the happiness clause wasn’t a problem anymore.”

Giles beamed. “Angel, that’s…that’s wonderful!” He paused. “Isn’t it?”

Angel shook his head miserably. “He didn’t say when, he didn’t say how. Just that now---with Cordelia---it had worked itself out. That the Powers had no more interest in reviving Angelus than Cordelia did. And that soon, we would understand.”

A catch, there was always one of those. Giles sighed. “And?”

“And ever since, the timing on her visions has been remarkably convenient. Almost like they’re keeping an eye on us, Giles. And every time they think I might be on the verge…”

Giles regarded him intently. “You’re telling me that the Powers-That-Be are using Cordelia’s visions to distract you from attaining a moment of true happiness?”

Angel nodded miserably. “Twice so far. The vision that brought you here, and the one she had tonight. We seem to be okay as long as we keep our clothes on, but if we try to get into other things…”

Giles coughed awkwardly. “Quite. Well, this is…”

“Yes?”

“This is terribly awkward,” concluded Giles unhappily. “I must say, Angel, that when I became a watcher, I expected I would find myself in many difficult situations. Deconstructing the sex life of a cursed vampire was not one of them.” he cleared his throat. “Right, then. Well, how does Cordelia feel about this?”

The vampire fidgeted anxiously. “I haven’t told her.”

“You haven’t? But you must tell her, Angel!”

“Why?

“Why? Well, she’s…she’s your partner, Angel. Your companion. And this…involves her!”

Angel blinked innocently. “So?”

**

“So, caves,” said Cordelia, flipping through a file folder. “Do we know anything about those?”

“We know Wolfram and Hart are involved,” said Angel. “That gives us a place to start. Cordy, can you go on-line, see if you can dig up any property of theirs that might have some---maybe campgrounds, or…?”

She nodded, flopping off the couch and heading for the office.

“Giles, Buffy…both of Cordy’s visions showed a raising ritual. Find out anything you can about it: how it works, how to stop one…and what it is they might be trying to bring back. Or who---they’ve done this before, and we spent the whole year chasing Darla down.”

Buffy frowned. “Darla? Blond vamp you go way back with? I thought we killed her.”

“We did,” explained Angel patiently. “But, see, raising…”

“Oh.”

“What about me?” piped up Spike. “Long as I’m here, may as well help out.”

“I thought you were evil,” said Cordelia.

“So? That mean I can’t research?”

Cordelia sighed. “Next time you guys come here, you are so inspecting the car before you leave,” she told Buffy. “I am NOT in the mood for this.”

Spike pouted. “That’s not very nice, pet. After I’ve been so nice and all---made the coffee, fetched the donuts…and when I came across you all bloody and cut, did I sample? Did I?”

“Bleeding?” said Angel. “Cordy, when were you…”

“Teeny tiny little scratch,” she told Angel. “And you…” She turned to Spike. “You may have that chip and everything, but you’re not fooling me. The only reason you’re being nice to me is cause Angel will so kick your ass if you hurt me!”

“That what you think?” he laughed. “That I’m only being nice to you cause you’re Angel’s pet?” He met her gaze with earnest sincerity. “Oh no, love, that’s not it at all! I’m nice to you because you’re really fucking hot!”

It was SO going to be a long day.

**

Around noon, Buffy slammed the book shut and rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Cordelia?”

The seer barely glanced away from the computer screen. “Hmmmm?”

“Where did Giles and Angel go?”

Cordelia shrugged, still intent on her work. “To the kitchen, to make us lunch, if they know what’s good for them. Why?”

“Just trying to remember when the last time I saw them was. What with the freakishly large pile of books Giles has me going through, I didn’t see them sneak off.”

“Make any progress?”

Buffy sighed. “Not really. Raisings really aren’t that complicated. You’ve got your funky incantation, you’ve got your five sacrifices…and, well, that’s sort of all you need.”

“Last time they did one, they summoned Vocah.”

Buffy nodded. “Probably because they needed his help to translate the incantation properly. But from what Angel told me, they didn’t necessarily need him for the ritual itself---that lawyer guy seemed to finish it off just fine after Vocah was out of the way. As long as they’re reusing the same incantation, they should be able to handle this one on their own. Any luck on the cave thing?”

Behind them, the printer rattled to life. “Yup,” Cordelia smiled. “Only one Wolfram and Hart-owned property that fits the bill: a hunting lodge, about an hour out of town. Woods, lake, the whole shebang.”

“Great,” said Buffy. “We’re set, then…”

Awkward silence. After a moment, Buffy finally rose from the table and paced nervously. “Cordelia?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Kinda makes you wonder…why they made themselves so easy to find…”

A frantic pounding on the basement door finally got Cordelia out of her seat. Angel and Giles emerged from the stairwell, both loaded down with weapons. They dumped them on the floor just in time for Spike to appear from upstairs and admire the stash with fascination.

“Quite a collection,” he told Angel.

Angel shrugged. “Never hurts to be prepared.”

“Speaking of prepared,” said Giles, “Have you girls learned anything helpful?”

Cordelia handed him the map she had printed off, and he studied it intently. He finally looked up again with a worried frown.

“What?” said Cordelia. “Did I not do good?”

“No, you did,” he hastily reassured her. “But Cordelia, this property of theirs…it’s massive. I don’t see how we can possibly locate one specific cave…can you recall any details from the visions, anything that might help us narrow it down?”

Cordelia shrugged. “First one was pretty vague---vamps, bright lights, that kinda thing. Second one was more inside the cave…”

“But there was more detail in the second one,” said Angel. “You saw the face of her watch…”

“Well, that’s something,” said Giles encouragingly.

“Right,” snickered Buffy. “Now, if you can just induce another vision, we’ll have everything we need to…Angel?”

She broke off, caught off guard by his suddenly odd expression. “Angel, what is it?”

He smiled. “A very good idea…”

“Angel? Um, Angel, the visions are…well, visions,” said Cordelia. “From omniscient higher powers who have in the past shown very little regard for good timing. It’s not like we can just order up a vision anytime we want to.”

“Yes,” said Angel quietly. “We can.”

“Angel…” hissed Giles warningly.

“What?” he said innocently, oblivious to Cordelia’s panicked, questioning gaze. “You said I had to tell her…”

**

Giles glanced anxiously at his watch for the umpteenth time that afternoon. “It shouldn’t be taking this long,” he complained.

Buffy sat down on the floor beside him. “This is a tough thing for them,” she said quietly. “Cordelia…well, let’s just say that it might not be so easy for Angel to get a moment of happiness with her while she’s so mad at him…”

Giles sighed. “I wish there had been another way to do this. But we need more clues, if we’re too…”

He broke off as the door opened and a grim-looking Angel emerged, looking queasy as Buffy winced at the sound of Cordelia sobbing pitifully on his bed.

“Angel? Did you…”

Angel did not meet their gaze. “Buffy, Spike, gear up, we’re leaving.”

“Then you know…”

He nodded, then faced Giles. “You need to stay with her.”

“But…”

“You need to stay with her,” he said again. “Buffy’s a slayer. Spike is a vampire. You are a watcher, and right now, I need you to watch her.”

**

Buffy huddled with Spike in the back seat, clasping the arm rest tensely as Angel drove like a madman.

“Does he seem off to you?” she whispered to Spike.

“He’s been off to me ever since he got that soul of his,” he replied with a crude laugh.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “It just seems like Cordelia wasn’t the only one who didn’t enjoy that little make-out session.”

“Would you have? Think she was more upset he didn’t tell her than anything else…”

“But Cordy’s been mad at him before, Spike. And he’s never gotten like this. You know why I sat back here? Cause there wasn't room up front, what with the black cloud he’s got attached to him…”

Spike shrugged. “Well, Slayer, you always say your emotions give you strength. He looks like he’s raring for a fight right now. Could be fun…”

**

He sat down gently on the edge of the bed. “Cordelia?”

She was as Angel had left her, face-down, fists balled into tiny little bullets that twitched against the sheets spasmodically as she let the tears exhaust her. He had never seen anyone cry for so long at one time.

“Cordelia? Can I…”

She turned away from him, chest heaving as she struggled to suppress her tears and restore her breathing. He patted her back awkwardly.

“There, there, it’s over now…”

She flipped onto her back and raised her hand to wipe the dampness off her face. Half-breathing, half-crying, she raised the other hand to her forehead and gently massaged her temples. Slowly, she quieted.

“Three visions,” she finally whispered.

“What?”

“It took three visions. To get the details you needed. Three. In a row.”

He took her hand gently. “I’m sorry,” he said.

She closed her eyes, features pinching inscrutably. “That’s not the part you should be sorry about,” she said flatly.

**

“You want to do the roll-call?” offered Lilah graciously.

Harmony shrugged. “Fair enough. You’re doing the spell part, after all. All right, then. Sentries?”

Two vampires camped at the mouth of the cave waved taser guns in acknowledgement.

“Back up?”

Six others saluted smartly, then melted into the background, taking cover behind outcroppings, shadows and pits within the cave’s floor.

“Movers?”

Two others too position at the back end of the cave, at the edge of a narrow passageway that led further into the maze of chambers.

“Sacrifices?”

The five vampires handcuffed to the box glared hatefully at them, futilely rattling their chains.

**

He offered her water, and she refused it. He offered her food, and she darkly glared. So he sat with her silently, keeping a respectful distance, watching her breathe, watching her manage. He knew they were hard on her, but three in a row…she had been quiet for a very, very long time…

“Cordelia?”

She sucked in a deep and painful breath, and when she spoke, her voice was flat and cold. “I need to be sick, and I need to be clean,” she said. “Help me?”

Her skin was clammy and sticky with sweat. He helped her to the bathroom, turning on the faucet in the bathtub, then holding her hair back as she retched and coughed.

Her body settled. “Turn away,” she told him. Faint splashing as she settled in the tub. When she finally gave the all-clear and he looked at her again, she had slunk far enough into the water that he could only see her face.

“This isn’t helping,” she said.

“What?”

“This. Isn’t helping. I thought it would, but…”

“What happened?” he said gently.

She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. “I was so mad at him,” she said. “I know he didn’t choose for it to be this way, but…god, you’d think, as an actress, an audience shouldn’t bother me so much. And it’s not like those PTB have ever let us get very far. But this is still kinda ick, you know? And he didn’t tell me! He figured it out, and didn’t tell me…”

She sunk further into the water. “And we both knew we should talk about this, that we should…I don’t know, that if we took it slowly….but we couldn’t do that, because you needed details, and this was the only way to get them. Induce a vision, find out where that raising’s going to be, and deal with how you’re feeling later…I was really worried that it wouldn’t work, that I was too upset to…you know, get him in the mood…and he still felt guilty, and I still felt scared…but I did it, didn’t I? I put on a brave face and did what I had to do, and got the first vision out of the way. But it wasn’t enough…”

She blinked, struggling to keep the tears at bay. It wasn’t enough…

**

“Five are without soul,” intoned Lilah.

“Yet they live.”

“Five are without sun…”

She heard the sounds of fighting, and ducked out of sight as her back-up emerged from the shadows and charged.

“Yet they live.”

**

“…and he looked at me, even before I had finished screaming in pain, and I knew we would have to do it again…”

She had taken the time to wrap herself in a robe and snuggle under the blankets before continuing. “I felt sick, Giles. Really, really sick, and not just from the vision. I was still mad at him. I was mad at THEM. And yet…”

He offered her his hand, and she took it. “Second verse, same as the first. I wanted to scream, I wanted to fight, I wanted to think, I wanted to lock myself in a dark room far, far away from him and do some serious feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t want him to touch me, to stroke my hair, to rub my thigh with his…”

She blinked back a tear, voice catching. “I felt like a whore for letting him. I have never in my life wanted a man to touch me less, and I’m not gonna say it was rape or anything, cause I’ve been there, and it felt different, but not by much. It wasn’t fun, Giles. It wasn’t fun, but I pretended. I’ve had some experience with that.”

She withdrew her hand and turned away from him. “Which brought us to vision number two, and it was enough. It was enough….”

His breath caught, as his mind wandered between the off-hand revelation she had snuck in about her sexual history, and her assertion that the first two visions had been enough…

**

Buffy and Angel, incorrigible do-gooders both, took the front line, and Spike hung back, the back-up man.

They were trying to keep them in some sort of outer chamber, it seemed. Two guards with rather admirable stamina held them back, and behind them, he could see a small chamber, where two small figures chanted over a ceremonial cage.

With Thing One and Thing Two thoroughly occupied with the slayer and his savage oaf of a sire, he crept quietly behind them and into the inner chamber.

"Five are without sun…"

"Yet they live."

"Five are dead."

"Yet they live."

Was that Harmony? Figured she’d be involved in something so boring as a raising. That girl never did have any imagination. But that other one---he felt the first faint stirrings of lustful fascination. From what he could tell, she was tall, she was dark, and she was smart---just as he liked his women. The fact that she was absolutely, irredeemably evil was just a bonus, as far as he was concerned.

**

“Enough…after two?” he repeated.

She sniffled, composure slowly corroding. “The third…was an accident,” she said, voice cracking. “I think he hadn’t meant to…but just before I blacked out, I saw his eyes go yellow. He didn’t completely vamp out, but I saw his eyes go yellow. It turned him on, Giles. When the third vision hit, he wasn’t even touching me. It was my pain, my anger, my disgust…the demon in him could sense it, and it turned him on.”

She buried her face in the pillows, unable to meet his eyes. Dear lord.

**

More came at them, faster and faster. As they struck down the sentries, more emerged from the shadows. They held their own, but more and more kept coming at them…

When they finally hit the inner chamber, they were suddenly thrown back by a blinding flash of light, and the last thing Buffy saw before she lost consciousness was Lilah’s triumphant smirk. “Take it away,” she told her henchmen.

Buffy and Angel woke up on the floor of the cave, alone.

**

The third time she flinched away when he tried to touch her, he finally tried to talk.

“Cordelia?”

She shook her head. “Not now, Angel. Breakfast first. Talk after.”

She busied herself with coffee-making, with donut arranging, and he watched her critically. She seemed okay. She talked, she moved, she walked around with a bright smile on her face. The good night’s sleep had taken care of the residual vision-pain, and if it weren’t for that insistent and somewhat louder than usual personal bubble vibe of hers, he would almost say she was herself again…

“Morning,” called Buffy. She came into the lobby with Giles’ hand clasped around her own, a relaxed smile on her face.

“Morning,” said Cordy brightly. “Donut?”

Giles met Cordelia’s cheerful gaze with a penetrating, meaningful nod. She sighed and lowered the coffee pot. “All right, all right, we’ll do this now,” she grumbled. “Angel…we need to talk.”

Buffy and Giles backed away, and she stopped them with a commanding gesture. “Hold it right there,” she said. “If you think I’ll be dredging any of this up again for a heart-to-heart with one of you later, you are sadly mistaken. This is it. Now. Where should we start?” She smiled coldly at Angel.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “About last night. Cordy, I…”

“Uh huh.” She rolled her eyes. “Obviously, if I let YOU talk, we’ll be here all morning while you stutter out your apologies, and we won’t wind up in any different a place than we would if I do everything, will we? So sit down, relax, enjoy your cup-o-blood and listen to me very carefully: I know you’re sorry. And I understand.”

She took a deep breath. “I knew what you were when I fell in love with you,” she said quietly. “I knew you were a demon. I knew you had it in you. And while I could have done without that especially unpleasant reminder last night, I can deal.”

“Cordelia…”

She paced energetically. "Shut. Up. You going all brooding guilt-monster over something you can't control does not change things. Last night was...an exception. If Giles...if WE...hadn't needed the info, I would never have let you touch me while I was so mad at you. And now...well, that whole not telling me thing that had me so mad in the first place seems kinda trivial, doesn't it? Last night was rough, Angel. Three visions in a row, the effect they had on me, the effect they had on YOU---it was painful, and it was horrible---but I understand it, and I can deal with it."

She took a deep breath. "There were circumstances, and just as the rational part of my brain understands that, I hope the rational part of YOUR brain understands that if you EVER try to touch me again when I'm feeling that way...or more importantly, when YOU'RE feeling that way...I will kill you. That said..."

Cordelia smiled weakly. "The great thing about a job like ours is there's always some new trauma to come along and replace the last one you've been having nightmares about. I can deal. I have been dealing. And all I want to do now is move on. Visions---not fun. Happiness-induced visions---less fun. You'll have to be patient, Angel. You'll have to give us time to work our way up to things---to---build up your tolerance a little bit, get you comfortable enough with the physical stuff that you don't cause blinding migraines every time you touch me. You'll have to go slow, Angel. I'm the one who gets to set the pace here, you understand?"

He nodded.

“Good. Oh, and Angel---if you ever EVER try to keep secrets from me again---secrets about me, or about us, or about…stuff…”

“I won’t,” he said hastily. “I really, really won’t.”

He put his arm around her, and this time, she didn’t shrug him off.

**

“You guys all set?” Cordelia asked.

Buffy nodded. “Yup. Bags and weapons safely stowed in back seat…”

“And vampire safely stowed in trunk?”

Buffy grinned. “Nope. Found this taped to the windshield.” She held up a crude, block-lettered sign: GONE FISHIN’

Cordelia shrugged. “Long as he doesn’t turn up here again, I don’t really care where he is.”

“Well, you never know, with him. He did see Harmony again last night, maybe he’s gone to hang with her.”

“Ewwwwww.”

“Yeah, that was kinda my reaction. But they did have fun, for awhile. She’s no Drusilla or anything, but still…” The slayer’s face grew serious. “Cordy? I’m really sorry, about last night…that we couldn’t stop them…”

Cordelia smiled bravely. “Hey, sometimes we win, sometimes they do, that’s how this kind of thing works, isn’t it?”

“We win more often.”

Cordelia flashed Buffy her first sincere smile of the morning.

“Well,” said Buffy, “Guess I should go see if Giles is ready…”

Cordelia shook her head. “Let me…”

He met her just inside the door. “Are you all right?” he said softly. There was no need to clarify what he was referring to, and she met his gaze steely-eyed, unflinching.

“Fine,” she said carefully. Her eyes reflected the same assertion she had made earlier with her words: I can deal. I have been dealing. It’s fine…

He nodded, and followed her out to his car, where Buffy was waiting.

**

3: The American Honky-Tonk Bar Association

“You sure you’ll be okay, pal?”

Lorne, host of Caritas, led his friend away from the clutter of the registration table, watching with some amusement as the slight, British man stumbled under the burden of the loaded-down puce velour backpack he had been issued upon checking in.

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Wesley. He stopped at one of the few available benches to take a breath and catch his bearings.

“And you’re not…you don’t mind that I’m taking off on ya, do you? I can wait until the seminars start…”

“No, no,” said Wesley lightly. “It’ll be good for me to have the hour open. I can look at my free things.” He beamed at the host, one proud hand resting on the backpack, which had ‘Gathering of Alternative Bartenders, 2001’ stitched boldly in golden thread, the G-A-B embellished with shiny sparkles. He stuck his head inside the bag and withdrew a plastic-wrapped bundle. “See? I have this…giant squishy round thing…here, and oh, a magic wand-type item, and several informative pamphlets…”

Lorne regarded the ‘squishy round thing’ curiously. “They’re giving those away this year?” he groused. “Last year, we had to pay for them. You’d better eat that now, Wes, it’ll protect you from the toxins in the breath of any Alaskan tentacle demons you might run into.”

Wesley made a face as Lorne rooted curiously through the bag. “Let’s see if we can find your coupon packet,” he said amiably. “After lunch, there’s a trade show preview and you can sometimes get deals.”

Wesley was filling out his seminar preference card. “It’s unfortunate that I only get to take one class,” he complained. “You know, I really wish you had decided to stay for this part. We could sign up for different seminars, and then compare notes later…”

“Never liked the seminars,” said Lorne. “I mean, it’s the same thing every year. How much new is there to say about chaos demons and sanctorium spells? Personally, I’m just here for the networking.” He regarded Wesley seriously. “You’re sure you’ll be all right?”

Wesley nodded. “Enjoy your lunch with Kate. Oh, and Lorne…” He motioned to the bulging knapsack. “If you could take some of that with you, so I don’t have to carry it around all day…”

Lorne nodded, and quickly began shuffling around inside the spacious bag. “I’m taking out anything that you would find too caustic,” he explained. “Not every species has a nervous system as fragile as humans, and some of these free samples might be a little harsh. Ditto for the coupons---you just aren’t going to need some of this stuff. I mean, 25% off a horn-filing session with Madame DuPoid?”

“Right, right,” said Wesley distractedly, gazing about with frank fascination.

“I mean, who files their horns anyway these days? It’s just so…last year…” Lorne straightened, holding a plastic bag filled with about half the contents of Wesley’s pack. “All right, bucko, you should be set. Oh, and Wes---if a large blue guy with four heads offers you any free samples, don’t take them unless he’s wearing gloves. His skin secretes a pheromone that can have some…unusual effects on humans…”

With a smile and a wink, Lorne was gone and Wesley was finally alone.

**

Wesley scanned the crowded corridor with unmitigated fascination. So many demon species in one place, at one time…it was a demon scholar’s dream! He was tempted to pull out the checklist he had made of the species he especially wanted to see, but the seminars weren’t due to start for another half hour, and he suspected not everyone was here yet. Still…it was an interesting lot that was. He has already counted three separate species of slime demon, and those were just ones in the antler-bearing genus! And he was fairly certain he had spied the four-headed blue gent Lorne had warned him about…

He was in such a daze that he didn’t notice the small, blond woman until he had almost crashed into her.

“Hey,” she said tartly. “Watch where you’re…oh, it’s you.”

He blinked. “Anya?”

She nodded. “I remember you. You’re that watcher Buffy fired. We saw you in Los Angeles.” She eyed him critically. “You’re much cuter now. Did you cut your hair?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Growing it out, actually. And you…you look…well, don’t look like the other…people…here,” he said awkwardly. “What on earth are you…?”

“Trade show preview,” she explained. “I have the largest booth available, so I thought I’d come early to get set up.” She puffed out her chest so he could read the printing on her t-shirt: MAGIC BOX: WE HAVE EVERYTHING. LITERALLY.

She beamed. “I thought of the slogan,” she told him proudly. “And as a special trade show promotion, we’re offering a free reward with any major purchase: a kiss from me! Unless you’re a slime species, of course. That would nasty.”

He coughed. “Um, yes. Quite.” He smiled conversationally. “Doesn’t Giles run the…I mean, he’s…you’re here alone, then?”

“Oh, no,” she clarified. “Dawn is here too.”

“Dawn, as in…hmmm. Well,” he said offered awkwardly. “It’s very progressive of Buffy to allow you to bring her sister to an event such as this…”

“Oh, Buffy doesn’t know,” said Anya cheerfully. “But I couldn’t find a sitter for Dawn so I brought her with me. She’s helping out in the day care centre for the morning. They promised her ice cream.”

“Oh,” said Wesley dubiously, trying to avoid the mental picture of just what demon daycare would look like. “Well, as long as she’s having fun, I suppose…”

“Well, she wasn't at first,” admitted Anya. “Until I told her that coming with me would displease Buffy, and that we must keep it secret. Children like secrets.”

“Oh,” he said again.

“So, you wanna help me set up my booth? I can give you dibs on the aromatherapy oil…”

“Oh, no,” he said. “I have a seminar, it’s due to start very soon…”

She looked at his schedule card. “Chaos demons? Oh please, that’s so…I mean, chaos demons…you’ll have much more fun being recruited into servitude by me.”

“But…”

“I can show you lots of others demons,” she offered. “I know everyone who’s anyone around here. And anything hallucinogenic always sell out so quickly, you might not get any if you wait…”

She headed for the exhibition hall, and, making a fast decision, he gulped and followed her inside.

**

“So,” said Anya conversationally, hefting a large box onto the table. “What are you doing here, anyway? I mean, alternative…you did understand that means demon, right?”

“Yes…”

“I thought the watchers sacked you. I can’t imagine why you’d need to…”

“For your information,” he said crisply, “I am here on a perfectly legitimate guest pass. You’re not the only one with friends in high places,” he huffed.

She snickered. “Friends in high places? Wesley, all of these trade show patrons are demons. I’m THEIR friend in high places. So anyway, who got you in?”

“You remember Lorne? That green-skinned fellow who runs an establishment called…”

“…Caritas,” finished Anya, nodding. “HE’S your contact? Well, no wonder you got stuck with the chaos demons. Hey, you, no touching! We aren’t set up yet!” She smacked a stray blue hand off an urn that had only half-spilled out of one of her many cartons.

Wesley picked up the discarded item curiously. “Chalice of Thor? What on earth are you doing with one of those?”

Anya shrugged. “I know, I know, it’s a bit lowbrow for my tastes. But I brought them along for atmosphere: this stuff is popular, and it looks pretty next to the mushrooms. You know that under my direction, The Magic Box has become the state’s largest supplier of hallucinogenic substances? Oils, mushrooms, powders…really, an impressive variety.”

He fidgeted. “Oh. That’s…nice…”

“Hey,” shouted Anya again. “We’re not open yet! Shoo!” She turned to Wesley, smile frozen in barely controlled anger. “If I ever find out who let these losers in early…now that HE’S touched stuff, I’ll have to disinfect everything!”

Wesley froze, almost dropping the urn he still held. Blue hands were usually attached to blue bodies, no? And blue bodies usually had blue heads…the host had warned him about blue demons with heads, hadn’t he? Oh dear…

**

“Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots, and ruined your black tie affair…” Wesley’s off-key singing echoed tinnily off the surface of the card table that his head was resting on. Face sweaty and flushed, breathing rapidly between bouts of off-key shrilling, he gazed at Anya earnestly. “…the last one to know, last one to show, I was the last one you thought you’d see there…”

He moaned, letting his head flop down on the table. She patted his sweaty hair with patient affection. “You’ll be fine,” she told him confidently. “It’ll wear off in about an hour. Oh look, Xander’s here!”

“…and I saw the surprise and the fear in his eyes when I took his glass of champagne…and I toasted you, said honey, we may be through, but you’ll never hear me complain…”

Anya shook her head with disgust, waving gleefully at her boyfriend, who came behind her with a lustful hug.

“Ahn, hey, how goes the trade show?”

She smooched him happily. “It’s only the preview today,” she told him proudly. “And we’ve already sold out of the mushrooms! Listen, Xander, I appreciate your getting off work early to come get Dawn.”

“No problemo, Ahn. Where is the Dawnster, anyway? Thought she’d be out here helping you.”

“Downstairs, being supervised by several large horned creatures. Friendly ones.”

Xander nodded, unfazed, then flicked his thumb at Wesley. “What’s his deal? Is he sick?”

She shrugged. “Not really.”

“Vampire thrall?”

“Nope.”

“Mummies? Werewolves?”

“Not so much.”

Xander squinted more carefully this time. “Hyenas?” he finally guessed.

Anya shook her head. “Demon pheromones.”

Xander nodded. “Hey Wes, good to see you again. How you doing?”

Wesley took a halting breath. “I’ve got friends in low places,” he offered weakly.

Xander clapped him on the back. “Sure ya do, Buddy. Well, have a great afternoon, kidlets. I’d better go claim Dawn. If we make it to the pizza place before noon, we get two for one.” He gave Anya a final kiss. “Pick you up at four?”

“Uh huh. We still on for tomorrow?”

He nodded, then with a final goodbye kiss from Anya, vanished into the crowd.

**

Wesley came to with a wince, glumly surveying the tangled briar patch of agony in his skull. He opened one eye at a time and dimly tried to make out his surroundings through the fiery haze of nausea that clouded his senses. Fluorescent lights. A shrieking burst of feedback, and suddenly, a shrill voice loud enough to rise above it all.

“Good, you’re awake,” it squawked.

He squinted. “Anya? What…”

“Demon pheromones,” she reminded him. “But they’re wearing off now. Here, drink this.” She pressed a bottle of water into his hand, and he took a long, slow sip, then paused.

“This is water, isn’t it?”

She nodded, and he took another deep sip. “Just checking,” he said weakly. “I’ve had to ingest some rather strange things…” The feedback shrilled again. “What on earth…”

“Speeches,” she said quietly. “Standard conferency stuff, you know, welcome, don’t litter, no violence, go buy things…”

He nodded, and gratefully tuned out the ruckus. With his brain still feeling like a train had run through it, actually listening to speeches required an effort he wasn’t sure he could muster. He set himself the more attainable goal of remaining upright and conscious for at least an hour.

The talk eventually melded into a clangy trill of music, and Anya sighed. “They play this song every year,” she told him. “I mean, we get it…”

If your paycheck depends on
The weather and the clock
If your conversation calls for
A little more than a coffee pot
If you need to pour your heart out
And try to rectify some situation
That you're facing
Contact your American Honky-Tonk Bar Association

As his vision slowly cleared, he saw many demons cheering and swaying to the beat. He groaned again, then rubbed his eyes as Anya waved a piece of paper at him. “Don’t be so glum,” she told him kindly. “You’ve seen twenty-eight different demons today alone…I’ve been keeping track for you…”

It was his checklist of demon species he wanted to see, and although in his present state, he did not remember seeing anybody, he was still touched by Anya’s gesture. “I don’t want to come here anymore,” he croaked weakly.

“I know,” she smiled. “You and me both. And you know, I think we might be able to help each other out.”

“Hmmm?”

“Well, I’ve already sold out on the expensive things. I don’t need to come back here tomorrow. Xander and I are going mini-golfing, and we thought you might…”

“Oh,” he said dully. “Well, I couldn’t…three’s a crowd, you know, and…”

“You’re right,” she said cheerfully. “It really is. Which is why there will be four of us. Lorne and Kate are coming with us.”

“Oh?”

“Problem is…we’re kind of on the hook to watch Dawn tomorrow…can you?”

Wesley’s head slumped back onto the table, still vibrating from the noise, from her voice, from the music. It was going to be a long weekend…

It represents the hardhat
Gunrack, achin'-back
Over taxed, flag-wavin', fun-lovin' crowd
Their heart is in the music
And they love to play it loud
There's no forms or applications
There's no red tape administrations
It's the American Honky-Tonk Bar Association

**

4: Walk on Through

"Hold your head up, hold it up high. It's not easy but we'll get by. Walk with me and I'll walk with you. And together, we'll walk on through. Walk on throooooooough..."

Angel winced and glared into the rear-view mirror. "Are you gonna do that the whole way up?" he growled.

Lorne pouted. "What, aren't I good?"

"Maybe," complained Angel, "But you can't really tell with this music. What on earth are we listening to?"

The green-skinned demon shrugged. "Just a little mix I put together for the car ride," he said. "Happy-inspirational, put us in the right frame of mind---I know how nervous our little kitten is about giving up the home turf advantage, and..."

"Hey!" protested Cordelia. "I'm not...I mean, we're not going there to---""

"Excuse me, but are you the anagogic one? No? Then stop telling me how you're feeling. Admit it, sweetheart: Buffy may have joined the warm-and-fuzzy team, but you can't tell me you don't still have issues. I mean, last time you saw her, you took one for the team to stop---unsuccessfully, I might add---some evil lawyers from working powerful dark magic. And that was on YOUR turf. Imagine the fun we'll have at HER hellmouthy home?"

She glared frostily, only somewhat mollified by Angel's comforting smile. "Ignore him," said Angel. "We are going to Sunnydale for one thing only, and it's a perfectly normal housewarming party for Kate."

Cordelia produced a small notecard from her bag. "1632 Revello Drive," she read. "Revello---that sounds familiar..."

Angel nodded. "Buffy lives on that street."

"Great," whined Cordelia. "She's Buffy's neighbour. How come we didn't figure this out before we left? Have you ever been to a Buffy party, Angel? Not exactly the greatest track record for non-eventfulness there."

Angel sighed. "It'll be okay, Cordelia. Just...relax, okay? Try and have fun?"

She glowered. "That's the best you can do? It'll be okay?"

"Ooooh, new song!" chirped Lorne. "They come out at night, that's when the energy comes, and the dark side's light, and the vampires roam..."

They ignored him. "Look," said Angel gently. "I know it's been a busy few weeks, lots of changes, lots of demons, lots of visions..."

"LOTS of visions," she affirmed. "And on demand, now, too. Angel..."

"...you're so beautiful, with an edge and a charm, but so careful when I'm in your arms..."

"And it's been hard for you," continued Angel firmly, raising his voice above the din of Lorne's singing. "And I understand that." He sighed. "I don't want to jinx it by promising you nothing bad will happen in Sunnydale, but Cordy, there's no visions, or portents or prophecies going on right now that I know about. So until further notice, we're free and clear. Can we just try to enjoy it while at lasts?"

She paused for so long that the music changed again, then finally nodded carefully. "Just don't enjoy it TOO much, Angel. Those PTB seem to have a very liberal definition of what constitutes a moment happy enough to interrupt with the whole searing-pain-of-doom thing."

Lorne reached for the stereo controls and cranked up the volume pointedly. "But we're okay, we're fine, Baby, I'm here to stop your crying..."

"Lorne..."

"...chase all the ghosts from your head, I'm stronger than the monster beneath your bed, smarter than the tricks played on your heart..."

"You gonna do that the whole way up there?" whined Cordelia.

Lorne shrugged. "Only for the significant parts."

Angel rolled his eyes and idly wondered whether he could trade Lorne for Wesley when they met up with him and Gunn at the next gas station.

**

"Halt! Police!"

Buffy blinked mid-dig as the glare of a lantern flashlight flooded her eyes. A perfect capper to an awful patrol. Some fancy footwork had taken care of the five vampires the charming tentacled corpse before her had vomited from the gaping maw at the top of its slimy skull. But glowing, oozing tentacle monsters did not dust as neatly as vampires did, and this gung-ho authority figure was interrupting her demon corpse burial

"Hi," she smiled innocently, trying ineffectually to conceal the muddy shovel behind her back. "You're probably wondering what I'm doing with this...lovely...prop. For a video I'm shooting. For school."

"Actually, I'm not." The voice was oddly familiar, but Buffy did her best to appear unrattled.

"Oh?"

"I'm wondering," continued the officer. "What the sole legal guardian of a minor child is doing in a cemetery at three o'clock in the morning."

Buffy frowned, finally placing the voice. "Kate?"

"That's Detective Lockley to you, Missy. And if you really are filming a project for school, you'd better have, in addition to the camera I am not seeing, the permits you need to film in a public place. And to dig in a cemetery. At three in the morning."

"Permits, right. Um, could you maybe shine that light out of my eyes so we can talk about this rationally without my going blind here?"

Kate lowered the lantern by about half an inch. "All right," she barked. "I'm cutting you some slack here. But you better have a good reason for being here, with that...my god, what is that thing? And don't tell me movie prop, sweetheart, cause I'm from L.A. and I know from movie props. I also know from weird shit, and let me tell you, I had my fill of that. We are NOT having any of that while I'm in this town, you hear me? We are NOT."

"It's not a movie prop," admitted Buffy.

"Well then?"

Buffy sighed. "Do you really want to know?"

Kate scrunched up her face in her best approximation of fierce. "Listen to me very carefully, Buffy Summers. I may have only just met you, but I've met that sister of yours quite a few times. And so far, I like her a lot better than I like you. I've been around the block once or twice, and even almost lost my way. You know what brought me back on track? The thought that maybe, if I was vigilant, if I was strong, I could prevent a cute kid like Dawn from having to grow up as fast as I did. You hear what I'm saying?"

Buffy heard all right. She knew now Kate Lockley would be watching her, and that was certainly a complication she could do without. But she also heard the detective's non-answer on the do-you-really-want-to-know front. The woman was in huge denial about what was really going on here, and she seemed to want to hang on to that denial for the time being. That cut Buffy some slack, and was definitely an interesting thing to know too.

**

"Drivin' that train, high on cocaine. Casey Jones, you better watch your speed. Trouble, ahead, trouble behind...hey Angel-cakes, how much longer?"

Angel stared intently at the road. "Nother hour, why?"

"Just thinking," said Lorne conversationally. "That we might want to call ahead and tell them to wait on the pizza..." He cocked his head at Cordelia, who had just enough time to whirl in surprise and mumble "huh?" before the vision hit.

Angel flung his arms in both directions, trying with one hand to brace her before her head hit the dashboard, and trying with the other hand to spin the wheel and pull the car over. She bucked against the restraining force of the seatbelt, the band cutting into her as Angel struggled for the clasp.

"Cordy..."

"Rest stop, up the road...snack bar..." She whimpered miserably and slumped in the seat, Angel drawn away from her only when Gunn's truck pulled up beside them. With a reluctant sigh, he clasped her arm, and when she flinched away from him, he climbed out of the car and went to coordinate logistics with Wesley. When he came back, he saw that she had crawled into the back seat and lay scrunched into the backrest, fidgeting uncomfortably, head on Lorne's knee as he gently massaged her forehead. She groaned audibly when Angel rolled into traffic.

"Get this done," said Lorne grimly, looking up from her watery eyes. "She needs to be not moving now."

He revved the engine, silently promising her that he would make this quick.

**

“Great to see you, hope you had a good trip, now come in already before the pizza gets cold!”

“Xander…” warned Buffy.

“What? I’m hungry, I can’t help it that I’m hungry.”

“And we can’t help that we were late,” said Wesley. “Cordelia had a vision…”

Giles whipped toward the couch, where Angel was settling Cordelia in. “Is everything…is she…”

“Fine,” said Angel. “Nothing serious. Just a bunch of vamps at a gas station, taking the term ‘snack bar’ a bit too literally…”

“One-off battles seem to be going around tonight,” observed Buffy. “Storm before the calm? Giles promised me that the spider-blob I killed earlier is not part of the bigger picture. Or at least, not anymore now that I’ve…”

“Blob thing?” said Angel curiously. “Sounds fun.”

“Oh, a blast. Especially the part when our new neighbour the super-cop tried to arrest me for burying its slimy corpse without a permit.”

Angel smiled.

“Oh, I’m not kidding,” said Buffy. “She very sternly laid down the law. Then she invited me to her party this weekend.”

“Kate?”

“Uh huh. Apparently, she felt obligated since I live next door and all. And she dislikes me enough that she didn’t want to have to talk to me again to do it, so while she had me, she threw out the invite…”

“But Cordelia,” interrupted Giles urgently. “The vision, is she…”

“Yeah,” Cordelia muttered. “Swell. The skull-splitting pain and freakish near-convulsions are always fun.” She sighed in weary exasperation as Giles probed her face searchingly with concerned eyes. “Look, the visions are a drag, I admit that. And this one was not a happy moment…”

“Are they ever?” interrupted Willow. “I mean, pain, not fun, and…oh,” she blushed. “You meant happy the other way, didn’t you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cordelia said. “I’m tired. Angel…”

“Somebody’s in a good mood,” quipped Buffy. Giles glared warningly.

“What? Not judging, Giles. Just…observing…” She ventured a helpful smile and addressed Cordelia. “Hey, it’s over now, isn’t it? That’s the important thing. Over, done, forgotten. Want some pizza?”

“Yes, good idea,” said Willow carefully. “There you go, pizza, and water, and a blanket…are you nice and comfy? Great, so let’s chat then. You been up to anything exciting? Me, I’ve been up to the usual, you know, school, magic, research, and oh, some exciting theories in the whole Powers-That-Be area…”

“Willow…” warned Giles.

“What? You didn’t say I couldn’t ask her. Just that I couldn’t ask her right away.”

Cordelia put her pizza down with a resigned sigh. “Ask me what?”

“Just that we’ve never had a chance to observe the visions before---scientifically, I mean. Because we could never predict when they were coming. But now…well, if it’s true that you can induce one at will…”

Angel regarded Willow thoughtfully. “You want to monitor a vision?”

“Nothing big,” said Willow cheerfully. “A few electrodes hooked up to some basic brainwave thingies…maybe some crystals that can track the magical aspects…think of it, Cordelia. We could find out where they’re coming from, maybe find a way to make them easier to manage.”

“But to induce them,” said Cordelia icily, “I have to be with Angel. WITH him. He has to…I would have to…in front of you?”

Willow fidgeted uncomfortably. “You would. But you understand, this is purely scientific, Cordelia. I wouldn’t…”

“In front of you,” repeated Cordelia woodenly. “I’d have to…with Angel…”

Only Angel was attuned enough to sense the steep, subtle spike in her heartbeat, the tiny clench of her hand. “Cordelia…”

“I’m not even discussing this,” said Cordelia, voice cracking in an angry whine. “This is sick, if you think I can…if you think I will…on purpose, and with everyone…” She scrunched deeper into the cushions, refusing to meet their eyes.

Angel felt torn. The rational part of him recognized that this little experiment could indeed give them useful answers. But answers were a long-term issue, and right now, his lovesick demon was in primal instant gratification mode. His girl was hurting, and all this upsetness was only making it worse. He wanted her to calm down. Now. The unnaturally rapid thrum of her heart was terribly distracting.

She turned to him, eyes pleading. “You understand, don’t you?” she said softly. “I can’t, Angel, I just can’t. I’ve had a hard enough time adjusting to this whole situation without an audience, I just can’t handle adding more layers right now.”

“I’m with her,” agreed Lorne quietly. “These are not forces to be messed around with. These things have a way of working out.”

“Shut up!” said Cordelia. “This is between Angel and me.” She pointed at Lorne. “YOU don’t even know the half of it, so stop hiding behind your wise guy swami mojo act and just…shut up.” She pointed at Willow. “And you…I don’t know whether you really think this will help or whether you just want an excuse to try out your new magic toys or whatever, but I am not your science experiment, understand?” Then she leveled icy eyes at Angel. “And you…just remember what I said to you before, Angel: I’m the one who gets to set the pace here.”

Their beseeching faces were too much. The adrenaline drained out of her, and it was all she could do to stay upright. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said wearily. “It’s been a long day. I know you’re all concerned, but I just…I’m really tired right now. Like, pass out kind of tired. Can we just…”

“I understand,” said Buffy briskly. “Lorne, I guess you’re staying with Kate?”

He nodded. “We bonded over mini-golf. She’s offered me her couch.”

“Great. Wesley, you’ll be okay with Giles?”

The former watcher nodded. “I’m told he has acquired a first edition of the fourteenth volume of Dramius…”

“Fun as that sounds, he’s only got one couch. So Gunn, you’ll have to go with Xander and Anya.”

Gunn shrugged. “Whatever, it’s cool with me. You guys play Risk?”

Anya’s eyes lit up. “A board game? Sounds wonderful. And you don’t need to worry about us, Mr. Gunn. I am a good hostess. I have purchased beer and snack foods.”

“As for you two…my room okay?”

“Are you sure?” said Angel. “We’re fine on the couch…”

Buffy shook her head. “Look, two of you, one of me. And I think little miss sick-and-tired needs the comfy bed more than I do.”

Cordelia staggered to her feet. “Wonderful.”

**

Two hours into the incessant bickering, she started feeling tiny pincers of headache pain creep into her ears. Enough was enough, she decided. Time to take action. Setting aside her papers, she strode to the fridge and pulled out a bag of blood. Marching purposefully across the hall, she flung the door open and faced the two feuding vampires commandingly.

“That’s enough,” she barked.

It took a moment for the smell of blood to penetrate their hazy tantrums. Abruptly, they stopped mid-rant and stared at her, tiny gobs of drool collecting beneath their half-engaged fangs.

“There’s enough here for the both of you,” she told them. “If you call a truce, I’ll let you share it. Otherwise…”

“But Lilah,” whined Harmony. “You don’t understand. Spike is…mean, that’s what he is. Mean! After all this time, after all he’s done…”

“Mean, am I?” said Spike. “Funny, I was going for devilishly evil. And you’re not exactly a saint yourself, pet.”

“Hey, evil is one thing. But mean…mean is just mean! If you think you can come in here and expect us to…I mean, what kind of idiot are you, you show up while we’re doing EVIL, and expect us to be nice to you?”

“In’t you I’m worried about, Harm,” he said, eyeing Lilah hungrily.

“Spiiiiiiiike…”

“Otherwise,” interrupted Lilah insistently. “Neither of you will enjoy this little snack. I’ll just…I’ll eat it myself!” She flushed a deep shade of crimson as she realized what she had just suggested. In a quieter voice, she modified “Or maybe pour it down the drain…” She tilted the bag as if to spill it on the floor, and Harmony’s eyes widened.

“No!” she shrieked. “We’ll be good, I promise!”

With a satisfied grin, Lilah tossed her the bag. Harmony lurched into the hall to enjoy her treat in private, as Spike perched casually on the desk, watching his former flame stumble away from him. When she was out of earshot, he grinned at Lilah

“Nice job with that raising deal,” he said smoothly. “Meant to tell you earlier, but Harm kind of got me sidetracked.”

Lilah beamed. “It WAS a nice raising,” she agreed. “Much better than the one Lindsey did.”

“Wasn't even smart enough to do it on his own,” flattered Spike. “Had to call in that Vocah chap. But you…start to finish, didn’t you, love?”

Lilah glowed. “It was my baby. And it went off without a hitch. Well, except for the Angel showing up part. I thought I had arranged enough distracting evil actions to keep his seer in visions til doomsday…”

“I’m sure you did,” soothed Spike. “But love, that sodding poofter’s very persistent when he wants to be. Sources tell me he had her go through three visions to get the goods on you…”

Lilah’s face contorted curiously as she struggled to put the pieces together. “Made her? You mean she…she can get them at will now? When did that happen?”

Spike shrugged. “When they started going soft on each other, I expect. Heard talk that those bloody powers-that-be don’t want him getting too close, if you know what I mean. They’ve ways of keeping him in line…”

“Really?”

Lilah was practically salivating at the gossip, but Spike remained coolly nonplussed.

“Suppose so.” He shrugged. “But I’m really more interested in that raising thing. THAT was…well, it was frickin sweet is what it was. We should do some more of those. I mean…we could bring back anyone…”

“It’s not that simple.”

“We could bring back all me old friends!” he continued. “James, Elizabeth…oh, and I had this little puppy dog one time…”

“No!” said Lilah. “We are not bringing back your puppy dog. We have enough to worry about with the one we’ve already raised. I’m still worried there could be side effects. I mean, Angel did interrupt the ritual. And we didn’t have Vocah…”

“Who needs Vocah,” purred Spike. “When we’ve got you, love?” He jumped off the desk and took a whooshingly impressive vamp-speed step toward her.

“Hands off,” sniped Lilah. “I have a cross, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Threatening me?” he teased. “You can’t threaten me! I’M the evil one here, you know.”

“Uh huh.”

“I am,” he insisted more seriously. “I’m very bad, and if you’ll just take this blasted chip out of my head, I can prove it.”

“I have work to do,” said Lilah crisply. “If you’ll excuse me…”

“I’m bad,” he called after her pleadingly.

“Uh huh.”

**

“Out like a light,” said Giles with satisfaction, pouring three cups of tea. He added sugar to one and passed it to Buffy, distributing the other two to Wesley and himself. “She’s still a little rattled,” he told Wesley. “But she’s settling in okay. One more good vision and she just might reconsider Willow’s proposal…”

“It seems so bloodless,” said Wesley with a shudder. “You really think…”

Giles sighed. “It’s such a complicated situation. I think any answers at this point could only be helpful. Best let her set the pace, as she wishes, I suppose. She says she’s fine…”

“Sure,” said Buffy flatly. “Fine enough that it took two of you to get her to bed…”

“Well, she was…Angel says she often…” He broke off, noting her detached expression with curiosity, and a little disapproval. “What, love? Are you…”

“Nothing,” she pouted. “I’m happy to give up my house, my room and my bed to those two rays of sunshine, really. And I’m glad you’re having such a great time playing chivalrous guy…”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean,” she said. “You’ve been fawning over little-miss-psychic-mystery ever since you found out about those visions.”

“Now, Buffy…”

“Okay, okay, I understand, mystery visions, powers-that-be, it’s interesting stuff and all that, but come on Giles, you don’t think she’s milking it just a little? I mean she had every guy in the house falling over themselves to…”

“Really,” he huffed. “That’s quite enough, don’t you think?”

“I think I’m the only one who IS thinking,” she told him. “You’re telling me you didn’t notice how she sucked them all in as soon she collapsed pathetically on the couch? Poor Angel, stuttering painfully trying to keep her comfortable, Wesley and Gunn clamming up, afraid to disturb her majesty, that poor Lorne guy getting yelled at for agreeing with her for goodness sake, and you all worried-eyes and meaningful frowns…”

“That’s quite enough,” he said coldly. “You’re right in that I have been researching this matter rather carefully. And I know more about it than you do. Far more about it.”

“Ooooh, the significant glare of Rippery power-tripping,” she sighed. “All right, what’d I do?”

His scowl deepened, but he kept his gaze trained on her until she finally caved and looked away.

“She’s not milking it,” he said quietly.

“Giles…”

“If you had any idea how stubbornly, how bravely she’s…she’s not trying to be difficult, Buffy, she’s just trying to hold it together. What happened last week…it took a lot out of her, and she’s…well, she’s spent the last seven days in a near-constant state of anxiety, of pain, of fear, and if you had any idea…”

Buffy softened, the impassioned tremble of his hands finally clueing her in that this was bigger than she thought it was. “God, Giles,” she said quietly. “What the hell did she say to you when you two were alone last weekend?”

**

It had to be past midnight by now. Midnight was the last number she remembered, the number she had seen on the clock when the absolute exhaustion had worn off enough for the pain to reassert itself and wake her. The visions these days were like earthquakes, and hours after the initial blast, there was the panic of aftershock. When she finally realized she would not fall back to sleep, she had batted the clock away in disgust, and now she lay among the twisted, clammy sheets in restless disorientation.

She still hadn’t shaken the ominous feeling she’d picked up in the car, and sleeping in Buffy’s bed with Angel wasn’t exactly calming her down. Too much right now, and it was making her head spin. Buffy, who still made her edgy. Giles, respecting her silent withdrawal, but hovering with meaningful stares. And Willow and Dawn and Xander and scoobies and too many people she needed to keep on her brave face for, floating around out there like busy little spies…

With a sigh, she kicked off the sheets and padded softly into the bathroom. With the light off, she could only dimly make out her reflection in the mirror, but she studied it grimly and urged herself to calm down. Breathe, she commanded. Something might happen soon, but it’s not happening right now, is it? She flipped on the faucet and let the water run. Breathe, Cordelia. Relax. She splashed her face with cold water and turned the faucet off, fumbling in the darkness for the shoes she was sure she had left in here earlier. She needed air.

**

They dropped Wesley off at Giles’ apartment, then went patrolling together. He rarely came with her these days, but tonight, he had tagged along awkwardly: he wanted to talk. After a brief and uneventful stroll through the cemetery, he found them a picnic table and sat her down.

“Now,” he said gently. “Tell me why you’re really upset.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Cordelia,” he clarified. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

She fidgeted. “Maybe a little.”

“Oh sure, she does get an awful lot of attention from them. From Angel, from Wesley, and yes, from me,” said Giles. “But of course, she took on a terrible burden to get that, didn’t she? Has she told you how she got the visions, Buffy?”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Why not? Because you’re afraid you can’t stay angry if you start feeling sorry for her?”

Buffy sighed. “I do feel sorry for her, Giles. That’s part of the problem.”

“What?”

“I had Angel, then I lost him,” she said quietly. “Lost him to her, it looks like. And now I have you….”

“And you’re afraid you’ll lose me?”

Buffy shrugged. “Guys like a girl who needs taking care of.”

**

She got two stealthy steps out the door before she saw the Dawn-shaped shadow wrap its arms around itself, then glow softly with a gentle smile.

“You gonna cry?” asked the little voice.

Cordelia joined Dawn on the porch step, regarding her thoughtfully. “Maybe. That gonna freak you out?”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“So,” said Cordelia. “You come out here a lot like this?”

“Not really. But I heard you not sleeping,” said Dawn pointedly. “And I knew you’d turn up sooner or later.”

She blushed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“Didn’t say you did.” Dawn twirled her foot in the dirt. “So…you wanna see something?”

She scrambled to her feet, and Cordelia followed her, still feeling dazed, but suddenly, reassuringly calmer.

**

“I do feel sorry for her,” Buffy clarified, wrapping her fingers around Giles’ hand. “I mean, I’m not kidding myself that she’ll have any easier a time with Angel than I did…”

“Worse time, most likely,” suggested Giles. “The visions…”

“Let’s not talk about those. Anyway, I know how he can be. How SHE can be. And part of me is kind of wondering why they’re even bothering…”

“One could say the same thing about us,” he pointed out. “You are younger, for one thing. Stronger, for another…”

She drew her hand away. “See? That’s what I…”

“Let me finish?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Anyway, I suppose it’s true that on the surface we may seem an odd match. And yet we’re…bothering…because…well, because we can’t not, Buffy. When you love enough, it’s worth the risk, isn’t it?”

She sighed. “I know, I know. But I guess I just…”

“Yes?”

“I thought it would be easier,” she confessed. “You and me. I mean, with Angel, it was all ‘the agony and the ecstasy,’ you know? But with you…I mean, you’re human, right? You’re gentle, you’re brave…you’re normal. And yeah, you may have secrets, but I already know them…”

He fidgeted awkwardly. “Right.”

“But it isn’t…I mean, I still have…moments, you know? I feel jealous. I feel nervous, I feel shy…sometimes, I feel scared, even. But you’re a normal guy, Giles. Shouldn’t that make it easier?”

He patted her arm affectionately. “I think you’ve just proven my point,” he said.

“Huh?”

“You are strong, and you are powerful, and I love you for it. But Buffy, love, if you didn’t need taking care of…well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”

**

Cordelia’s guide stopped reverently at an otherwise ignorable tree at the edge of the yard. The lower part of the trunk had been embellished with crude handholds, and following Dawn’s lead, Cordelia heaved herself up the trunk. She stopped when Dawn did, at a natural shelf where several branches converged, about ten feet off the ground. Rough planks had been arrayed with some care across the gaps in the boughs, and it was here that Dawn finally rested, sprawling blissfully on her makeshift floor.

“You can see the stars from here,” said Dawn softly. “At first, I thought the branches would get in the way, but Spike helped me…”

Dawn watched her intently, remaining implacably zen-like as Cordelia’s muscles unknotted, and her tense, pain-fogged breathing softened and deepened. After a moment, she regarded Cordelia with a surprisingly fond, but intent smile.

“This is my secret place,” she said quietly.

Cordelia shivered, appropriately moved by this revelation.

“Sometimes I come up here,” said Dawn. “When I want to hide for awhile. It’s so quiet up here. At first, it freaked me out a little, I mean, I couldn’t even hear the crickets or anything. But you get used to it…”

Cordelia’s eyes flickered across the sky as she tried to anchor herself with the few constellations she could recognize. But the tiny pinpricks of light were hypnotically dazzling, and her gaze wandered; she blinked in frustration before abruptly giving in and seeming to surrender herself to the vista.

“I was like you the first time I came up here,” said Dawn. “Thinking it would be easier if I had a focal point…but it’s not, you know. You can read the little books and the star charts and stuff like that, but you won’t be able to make sense of it. When you look from this angle, it’s all random. It’s old and it’s creepy and it’s far away, and it’s totally random, Cordelia. Sometimes, things are like that.”

The lingering prickle of vision-pain behind Cordelia’s eyes reminded her that many things in her life were that way: powerful, and mysterious, and as frustratingly, awkwardly incomprehensible as the stars that cast her still-wincing features in such a soft, forgiving light. It was like everything else, she realized. From here, even the stars seemed benevolent, but if you got closer, they were fiery, perilous black holes…

“When I come up here, I just turn it all off,” said Dawn softly. “I mean, I know it’s still down there…whatever I’m hiding away from. But from up here…everything looks different. What’s down there looks small, and far away, like another world, almost. And what’s up there…well, I’ve never seen what it really looks like. But I know that from here, it’s beautiful.”

Sometimes, that had to be enough, didn’t it? She took another deep breath, and Dawn finally sat up, regarding her appraisingly.

“Cordelia?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you gonna cry?”

She breathed out slowly. “I don’t think so.”

Dawn nodded, and satisfied that her charge would be okay, clambered off her little perch and headed inside.

**

“Morning, Ladies,” chirped Xander. “And how are we today?”

In a complete role reversal from the previous night, a manically chirpy Cordelia fidgeted off nervous energy, and it was Buffy who was dead on her feet. The slayer was still dressed in the clothes she had worn the night before, but they were rumpled as if the few minutes of sleep she had gotten were in them. Dawn was pointedly avoiding her sister, and wrestling with the lid of an unopened bottle of chocolate milk syrup.

Xander did the only logical thing and immediately latched on to his fellow happy-person. “Cordelia! Great to see ya! Feeling better?”

She nodded. “It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do for you,” she enthused. “Pain, gone. Head, clear. And except for being unaccountably, ravenously starving, I’m feeling just great.”

Xander nodded. “Well, fortunately for you, Cor, your well-prepared ex-boyfriend has cleverly anticipated such a possibility, and…”

He opened the back door with a flourish to admit Anya and Gunn, each loaded down with bags and boxes.

“Breakfast!” chirped Gunn. “Hey Cordy, how are ya?”

She waved off-handedly, already greasy-fingered from the Drive-Thru hash browns she had found in the nearest fast food bag.

“Buffy? Dawn?”

While Buffy stared gloomily into her mug of coffee, Dawn dragged her feet over to the table and sat down beside Cordelia.

“Not hungry,” she pouted.

Cordelia looked up from her creme-filled donut long enough to meet the girl’s dark eyes with a chastising shake of the head. Dawn grabbed a corner of Cordelia’s donut, and nibbled unenthusiastically.

“Hey!” Cordelia complained. She wiped her fingers on a napkin, then started pawing through the bags again. “Did you guys get any of those English muffin thingies? With that egg and cheese crap in them?”

Gunn shrugged. “What’s up with her?” he asked, flicking his thumb at Buffy.

“She came home late and Dawn was waiting up for her. They had a fight or something, I don’t know. Did you get any of those little french toast strips that you dip in that fruit junk?”

Giles and Wesley loudly bounded through the door, both of them heading straight for Cordelia.

“Are you feeling all right?” pestered Wesley. “Do you need us to get you anything?”

“Did you have any nightmares? Visions? Portents?” said Giles. “Do you need to talk?”

Cordelia, mouth full of grapefruit sections, shook her head mutely.

“Well then,” said Giles. “We should go over the plan for the day.”

“Plan?” said Cordelia. “What plan? This is our no-brainer weekend, remember? The only plan is Kate’s party tonight.”

“Well, even so, it never hurts to be productive,” suggested Giles. “My library is a bit more sophisticated than the one you’re used to. Wesley and I were planning to…”

“Great,” said Cordy. “You boys have fun. I’m gonna borrow Gunn’s truck and do some shopping. I can’t find my sparkly eyeliner, and I need to pick up a…”

“My truck?” squeaked Gunn.

Cordelia shoved a strip of bacon into her mouth and shrugged. “What, I’ll wash my hands first, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“But Cordelia…”

“What, Giles? You want me to spend my day locked in the magic shop reading depressing things about visions and raisings and junk?”

“Well, we may as well take advantage of the down time,” pointed out Wesley. “And we still don’t know what Wolfram and Hart are…”

“I don’t care,” said Cordelia, voice tightening. “I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Cordelia…” Giles touched her hand gently. “Are you all right, really? You’re…I mean, I understand you have a lot going on, and…”

“I do,” she said stiffly. “I have to go pick up a few things, then have a shower, curl my hair, do my makeup…”

“I just meant…” he lowered his voice. “I know it’s been a rough couple of weeks, and it’s certainly understandable…”

“If it’s understandable, then can we drop it, please? I’ll be gloomy tomorrow, I promise, but I really don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to give me one day where all I have to think about is how much leeway there is on my credit limit, the shortest distance between me and looking pretty, and which song I’ll request when I slow-dance with my boyfriend. Gunn---keys?”

Dawn bounced to her feet. “Can I come?”

“Absolutely.” Cordelia took a final sip of orange juice, wiped her hands on a towel, then flounced out the door, leaving Buffy too stunned by this display to protest her sister’s defection.

**

“A little higher,” instructed Kate. Lorne adjusted the streamer and stepped back for her inspection.

“Perfect,” she told him. She peeked down the hallway toward the kitchen. “You think those two are okay in there?”

Around noon, Giles and Wesley had materialized to help get the party set up, and Kate had banished them to the kitchen to chop vegetables.

“If you mean are those two okay enough to stay out of our way for awhile, I’d say definitely,” said Lorne. “Last time I checked, they were discussing the punctuation difficulties of translating Sumerian to Hebrew. They’ll be there awhile.”

Kate shrugged. “Okay.”

“So do you wanna…” He took a step toward her, and she blinked warily.

“What?” she asked hesitantly.

“Test the equipment?” he finished weakly. He pointed to the karaoke machine that Gunn had spent the morning fiddling with. Kate gave him a cautious smile. “Is that…are you hitting on me?”

He sighed. “Sweetie, I think we’re past the hitting on stage by now, aren’t we? You know I love you…”

“And I love you too,” she assured him hastily. “Really, I do. But I just…look, I’ve never even dated someone who wasn’t Christian before, never mind somebody not human. I just need some time…”

“Will that make a difference?” he asked her. “We past just friends about three weeks back, and I haven’t just not gotten to first base yet, I haven’t even gotten up to bat. I’ve never even left the dugout, Katie. Look, I know this is new for you, but…”

“New? Lorne, this is beyond new, this is…”

“Oh Katie,” he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna play the race card here…”

“There is no race card,” she said. “Race would imply that we’re all the same inside, wouldn’t it? I love you, I do, but the physical stuff…It just…it scares me a little. You are a great, great…guy…don’t get me wrong, and I want to work on this. But we’re coming from such different places, Lorne. It just takes some getting used to.”

“Katie,” he sighed. “You will give me a chance, won’t you? I mean, just cause my heart’s not in the right place, doesn’t mean it’s not in the right PLACE, you know?”

She looked away and fingered the garland of streamers a little nervously. “A little higher,” she said.

**

“So are we going to talk about things?” Wesley put down his paring knife and faced Giles expectantly.

“Bloody hell, not you too,” groaned Giles. “All right, Wesley, what did you wish to talk about?”

“Well, this morning, for one thing,” Wesley admitted. “That was…what was that, exactly? Cordelia…”

“One thing I love about that girl,” said Giles. “She’s exactly how she says she is. Oh sure, she can clam up when it suits her, but when she does share, she certainly…shares…”

He sighed. “Cordelia is up to exactly what she says she’s up to, Wesley. World-caliber, prize-winning denial.”

“I see. And Buffy?”

Giles idly reached for the discarded paring knife and began intently hacking on a stray carrot. “She’s been difficult,” he admitted. “Picked some fights with me, picked some fights with Dawn…she hasn’t told her, you know.”

“Really?”

“Says there’s been enough upheaval in Dawn’s life, that she’s still adjusting to…well, she’s been difficult, hasn’t settled down quite yet. Thing is, I’m convinced the child can tell we’re hiding something, and that’s what making her act out, not…not what Buffy thinks, I suppose.”

“Have you… I mean…”

Giles sighed. “It’s…baggage, you know? She hasn’t had the best of luck with this sort of thing.”

“But surely she’s cutting herself some slack. After all, there are circumstances…your calling, and hers. And all alone now, with Dawn…”

“There are always circumstances.”

“I suppose….not that I would…I mean, I haven’t always…well, I’m not one to talk, I imagine. I’m alone right now…”

“That,” said Giles soberly. “Is a circumstance too.”

**

“I just love parties,” glowed Harmony. “Fun, fun, fun!”

“It’s not a party,” said Lilah tersely. “It’s a fundraiser, and we’re only going because the senior partners are there, and they want to check up on our little project.”

“Who wouldn’t?” quipped Spike. “She’s prettier than the last girl you raised.”

“Is not!” squeaked Harmony. “You’re just saying that because she isn’t blond! Spike hates blondes,” Harmony explained to Lilah. “Because they always reject him.”

“Not true!”

“Is so! Darla rejected you, for Angel. Buffy rejected you, for Angel. And I rejected you too! But not for Angel,” she qualified. “I mean, ewwww. I rejected you for Drusilla. Not that I was…I mean, it was YOU and Drusilla, and I was the one that…that didn’t come out right. What I mean is…”

“What you mean,” interrupted Spike. “Is that you are a stupid bint too dumb to realize she couldn’t keep me happy.”

“No! That isn’t…I mean, I dumped YOU, Spike, or are you forgetting about that cross-bow I stabbed you with?”

He smiled fondly at the memory. “That was cool. Cat-fight,” he explained to Lilah. “They were fighting over ME…”

Lilah frowned, unsure of what to make of this display. “I’m not going to take you unless you promise to behave.”

Spike lit a cigarette. “Have I not proven myself by now?” he pouted. “You would have hidden your little toy away forever if I hadn’t tipped you off about the poofter being out of town this weekend.”

“If Angel finds out about her too soon, he’ll only cause us trouble.”

“I know that, love. It’s why I knew you’d want to hear about that little road trip invite I saw hanging on his fridge last week. I helped, see. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“It does,” said Lilah. “It tells me that Harmony is right. You do like brunettes better. But before you waste your time tying too hard to impress me, just remember that I am not as gullible and trusting as insane crazy vampires brunettes, or sweet, sensitive raised from the dead ones. You can come to the fundraiser, Spike, but I’m warning you again that you’d better be on your best behaviour. I’m watching you.”

**

“Everybody ready?” called Gunn.

He strolled into Buffy’s kitchen just after sundown, Xander and Anya in tow. Angel, in deference to tonight’s celebration, had traded his usual black pants for leather ones, and was slurping on a pre-party snack. Buffy, Willow and Tara sat at the kitchen table comparing nail polish.

Buffy nodded a greeting. “Pretty much, just waiting on Dawn and Cordy. Wes and Giles are meeting us there.”

“Cool.” He helped himself to a handful of potato chips. “Now, when you say waiting on Cordy, you have any idea on how long?”

Buffy shrugged. “Beats me. She sounded like she was going all out for this.” She turned to Angel. “I recommend a simple “wow” or “oh boy” when she comes down, there’s a reason those are classic. Wanna practice?”

He scowled and rinsed his mug in the sink. Through his black silk t-shirt, a glint of silver was barely visible: a belt, and a decorative one at that. He had made an effort.

They heard a faint scuffling from the living room, then the door swung open and Cordelia swirled into the kitchen. Her hair was swept softly into a loose chignon, and although she wore a black silk top like Angel did, the effect on her was remarkably different. Soft. Rippling. At strategic points along her arm, she had dabbed on body glitter, and her muscles stood out like finely chiseled statue. The skirt was long and wispy, deep, rich purple with Chinese symbols silk-screened on in an inky black.

“It’s for good luck,” she smiled as Angel fingered the material. “See, that’s the symbol for prosperity, and that’s the one for protection…Giles sent it to me for my birthday last year, and I’ve been saving it…”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, and she laughed. “Don’t even try to say anything,” she said. “If you can’t do better than a stutter, just let me enjoy you speechless with love. Is Dawn…Dawn? You ready?”

Dawn sauntered into the kitchen confidently, and this time, it was Buffy who was speechless. But she did not remain speechless for long.

“No. Way.”

“Buffy? What’s…”

“No, Dawn. No.”

“Don’t you like…”

“No. You are not leaving the house dressed like this. Absolutely not.”

Dawn pouted. “We’re only going next door,” she said. “And I think I look pretty. Cordelia bought me some body glitter.”

Indeed, she had, and Dawn had applied it liberally enough that Buffy was almost grateful. At least it covered a bit more skin…

“Did Cordelia buy you that outfit too? Cause lord knows I would never…”

Cordelia shook her head, and out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw Anya cuddling serenely in Xander’s arms, and put two and two together. Cordelia wasn't the one with money…

“Anya? Did you buy my little sister slut-clothes?”

“They are NOT slut-clothes,” shrieked Dawn. “Just cause you can’t deal with the fact that I’m a woman now, a beautiful, sexy…”

“We are not having this conversation. Dawn, go change your clothes.”

“Buffy…”

“Now.”

Dawn stood her ground. “You can’t make me…”

“I can, and I will. Look, Dawn, you might not understand this until you really ARE an adult, but when you dress like that, people look at you…”

“Buffy…”

“People look at you,” she said firmly. “And what they see…Dawnie, I need you to cooperate here. Our friend the super-cop is already keeping a hawk-eye on the parentless girls of the Summers household, and she doesn’t like me much. The last thing we need to be doing is giving her ammo…”

Dawn glared daggers, and the standoff might have continued indefinitely if Cordelia hadn’t broken the tension by stepping forward with a gentle smile.

“Don’t cry,” she instructed her protégé firmly. “You’ll smudge your make-up.” Then the former Queen C took Dawn by the hand led took her upstairs to find something more suitable.

**

They finally arrived at Kate’s to find the tiny house utterly transformed for the festivities. The door opened to a living room, where end tables laden with paper plates had been arrayed comfortably. The adjoining dining room had been set up as a buffet, with trays of sandwiches, a vegetable platter, sliced fruit and assorted salads. A hand-made sign with ornate calligraphy indicated the bathroom that had been squeezed in at the tip of the open-concept room, just before the hallway that tapered into the kitchen. The back door had been propped open, and guests spilled onto a large, manicured yard where the party was in full swing.

“Onion dip!” rejoiced Xander.

“Cherry coolers!” exclaimed Willow.

“Giles!” shouted Buffy.

Kate smiled. “Something for everyone, it looks like. Glad you could come, help yourselves to whatever’s out here…”

Buffy gave Cordelia a cautious smile. “You know,” she said. “I think I’m gonna follow your lead here, Cordy. This is a party. We’re partying. All my friends are here, my lovely watcher has given me the night off…not that I would ever jinx it but saying I’m officially dropping my guard or anything, but I don’t see why we can’t enjoy ourselves for once. Dawn,” she said dramatically. “You may officially do whatever you want. Eat junk food. Go crazy.”

“Can I drink wine?”

Buffy closed her eyes and plugged her ears with her fingers. “I see no evil, I hear no evil. If the nefarious lords of the underworld can fend for themselves for tonight, I think you can do the same.”

She took Giles hand and fluttered off to join the party. Dawn, already slightly buzzed from the fumes of alcohol and hormones around her, surveyed the situation gloomily. Xander and Anya had already gone off in search of a “quiet spot” and she didn’t want to be walking in on THAT, thank you very much. And watcher/slayer hang-out-age was just as boring. Should she…the food? But Gunn and Wesley had already polished off half the mini-pizzas…

With a sigh, she plunged into the crowd in search of her only ally, Cordelia.

**

“Everything all right?”

Kate, unfortunately crouched in front of the open fridge in search of tomato juice, jumped. A rain of condiments clunked one by one onto her head as Lorne apologetically gave her a hand up.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Just that I noticed you finally got everyone outside, and I thought I’d take advantage of catching you alone for a minute to see how you were.”

“Me as in Kate, your sort of girlfriend, or me as in Kate the hostess?”

“You as in Kate, the person. Who also happens to be my sort of girlfriend, and a wonderful hostess.”

She smiled wryly. “Wonderful, am I? Lorne, have you ever seen me host a party?”

“Well, no…”

“And there’s a reason for that. I am not a party girl. Hell, I’m not…I’m…well, let’s just say that this is my first time having a house to host a party in. Or a neighbourhood to invite, for that matter.”

“It seems like a very nice neighbourhood,” he offered. “Good, solid people…”

She sighed. “Solid, right. You might have warned me that those Summers kids know Angel, Lorne.”

“Warn you? Why would I need to warn you, hon? Buffy’s a sweetie, and that sister of hers…”

“That sister of hers is me fifteen years ago, and Lorne, if it weren’t for a very special guidance counsellor who took an interest in me, I wouldn’t be the fine, upstanding citizen you see before you. She needs attention, and her ditzy, delinquent sister is not the one who’s gonna give it to her.”

“Now, Katie, you don’t think that’s a tiny bit judgmental? You’ve only just met the kids…”

Her eyes narrowed. “Figures that you would doubt my instincts on this. Just because you’re anagogic, doesn’t mean you know everything, you know. There are aspects of human behaviour that you couldn’t possibly…”

He sighed. “Race card again? I think I’m just going to chalk that one up to the over-stressed hostess being irritable, if it’s all the same to you. I’d rather not get into this right now.”

He poured himself a drink. “And sweetheart, a word of advice? I’d be very careful about writing someone off just because they know Angel, if I were you.”

**

It took Dawn almost half an hour to find Cordelia. She had tried to liberate some mini-pizzas from the buffet before Gunn and Wesley polished them off, but she was waylaid by Mrs. Delaney while on her way to get a drink. Then, as she smiled and nodded and looked for an escape, she spied dorky old Taylor Bush from school, and she had to coordinate her route to the backyard carefully to avoid him. By the time she got outside, most of the picnic tables were taken, and Cordelia was busily scouting for seats. Angel was amusing himself in conversation with Xander and Anya, and he was distracted enough that he didn’t notice her microscopic wince before she spun to the ground with a sudden yelp.

Kate moved fast, but Angel moved faster. By the time their horrified hostess had reached Cordelia, Angel had already moved her away from the crowd.

“Angel? Is she…”

“She’ll be fine. Do you have any painkillers handy?”

“Tylenol, in the bathroom. Angel, can I…”

“It’s fine, Kate, I’ve got her.”

“But…”

“Go back to your party, Kate.”

He barked ‘Get Buffy’ at Xander, then turned to Dawn. “Can you help me get her inside?”

She nodded, eyes wide, and slung Cordelia’s slackened arm around her shoulder, wincing only slightly as she mentally readjusted her hearing to tune out the whimpers.

**

Buffy. Giles. Xander. Anya. Willow. Tara. Too much, too much…she buried her head in Angel’s shoulder, breathing quickening. Too much stimulation…

“Angel, is she…can we…”

“Just relax,” he whispered, half to her, half to them. “Deep breaths, Cordy. You’re okay, you’re fine…”

“I’ll get her some water,” said Giles.

“I grabbed some things at the shop earlier,” said Willow quietly. “Maybe we could…”

She tightened her grip on Angel and turned her face incrementally, just enough to expose the single tear that slid down her cheek.

It was, surprisingly, Anya who caught the significance. She pulled Xander away with a nod to Tara, who grabbed Willow’s hand and followed.

Dawn, by now forgotten, settled on the stairwell, watching.

“What do you see?” asked Angel gently.

She fought for air. “Blood,” she choked. “Blood, everywhere.”

Buffy kneeled beside her, not ungently. “And?”

She shook her head.

“Vampires? Demons? We need more to go on,” Buffy coaxed. “Can you…”

She whimpered more audibly this time, and scrunched deeper into Angel’s lap.

“I’m sorry,” said Buffy. “But we need…”

The crying looked to be as much from frustration as pain. “It’s so dark…there’s blood, it’s…only…I can’t…”

Giles crouched beside them and shooed Buffy out of the way. “Cordelia, are you hearing any sounds?”

“Music,” she sniffled. “Really, really loud. My head hurts.”

“I know it does. Does the music have words, love?”

She winced. “The fire trucks are coming around the bend. You live, you learn…”

Buffy jumped to her feet. “Got it,” she said. “That’s Alanis Morisette, and it’s chick band night at the Bronze. Angel?”

With obvious reluctance, he tore himself away from her. She clawed past him the several paces to the bathroom, and the last sight they had of her was her foot, as tense and trembling as the rest of her, kicking the door shut behind her.

Giles waited until Buffy and Angel were gone, then knocked gently on the bathroom door.

“Cordelia?”

He rattled the knob, but she had locked it. Retreating. With a sigh, he turned to Dawn and pasted on a reassuring smile.

“She’ll be all right,” he said.

“Uh huh.”

“She just needs a few minutes…well, I’d best check in with Kate. She did look rather worried…you’ll be alright, Dawn?”

“Uh huh.”

As soon as Giles was out of sight, she crept down the stairs and pressed her ear to the bathroom door. She knew what Cordelia was doing; she did that too sometimes. She remembered that bad time she went through after she found out she was the key, how everyone had been watching her, how she wanted to just lock herself away until the problem was over. Dawn had seen Angel hover before, and she had seen Giles hover too, so she could understand, really, how Cordelia might not feel like dealing with that until she over the worst of it. But the stars were not the only thing Spike had taught her about, and vampire listening skills went way deeper than puny human ones. If she really concentrated, she could hear past the stray party noises, past the hitching swallows as Cordelia tried to hold back the gagging when she forced some water down, past the occasional sobs as she lost control, the weary gasps as she tried to regain it, as she rode out the spasms of aftershock that clenched her brain. If Dawn concentrated, she could hear the rhythm of fists banging against the tile floor as Cordelia’s body shook with effort. And she could hear the tell-tale hitch of laboured breathing that told her her friend would not be able to hold out for long.

“Cordelia?” she called softly. “I’m just gonna sit out here for awhile…”

She plunked on the floor and waited.

**

Exactly four minutes and twenty-one seconds after a quickening in Cordelia’s breathing had alerted her to sudden activity, she heard the click of the lock sliding open.

“Dawn?”

“I’m here.”

“Get Willow. Now.”

She scrambled outside and scanned the sea of faces, pulling Tara and Willow aside with a panicked “come on!”

“Dawnie, what is it? What’s…”

She tugged insistently, not really feeling brave or smart anymore. Whatever was wrong, it wasn’t getting any better, and she had been starting to worry that Cordelia could stoically hold out far longer than she had given her credit for. This couldn’t be good. These things were supposed to get better, weren’t they?

“Willow, come on,” she urged. “It’s Cordelia, she’s…”

They barreled through the kitchen and Willow cautiously pulled open the bathroom door. She used her body to block the view from Dawn as she assessed the situation with a calm authority that might have been frightening in other circumstances.

“Hi, Cordelia,” she said.

Cordelia, every part of her tense and trembling, jerked her eyes toward her. “You said you could…do something…”

Willow smiled gently and took her sweaty hand. “Unclench,” she instructed. Cordelia, self-control rapidly slipping, struggled to move her fingers apart.

“Willow, I…I need…”

“I know,” Willow said. “Don’t worry, Cordelia, we’re going to take very good care of you.” She faced the others. “We’ll take her next door again. Dawnie, you’re with me: we need you to let us in, and Tara, you’ll tell Kate we’re leaving?”

“God, hurry up,” Cordelia whispered.

Tara frowned. “Kate?”

“Well, it’s only polite. I really should thank her myself, but Cordy looks like she’s about to combust, and I really think…”

“But…Giles…or Wesley…”

“As if we could even find them in that crowd…” Willow frowned. “Tara, we don’t have time, and I can’t drag her over there myself while she’s so tense and…not helping…”

“I just…they should…”

“The last thing Cordelia needs right now is a bunch of nervous watchers hanging over her,” Willow said. Her eyes darkened. “We can handle this, Tara. We can handle this.”

**

They walked quietly, Buffy stopping occasionally to dispatch a stray vampire. Angel, brooding magnificently, failed to notice these little breaks.

“You with me?” she finally asked him, pausing for the umpteenth time that night to shake the vamp-dust out of her hair.

“Huh?”

“Just that you’re here…physically. Seems like mentally you’re still back at Kate’s with Cordelia.”

He frowned. “I hate leaving her like that,” he admitted. “She’s so…”

“Small and weak and helpless, I know, guys go for that. Just that I kinda need you with me if we’re gonna….what ARE we gonna do, anyway? Vision-girl was remarkably imprecise on this whole blood and death thing.”

“Don’t talk about her that way,” he said irritably. “She can’t help it.”

“I know that, but still…I mean, what does she expect us to do with this particular message from on high? Go to the Bronze and hang around until we see something evil doing something bad?”

“They wouldn’t send us there without a reason,” he said.

“Just don’t see why they couldn’t send a few more details is all,” she said breezily. “I mean, happy to slay the badness and all, just you kinda figure that if they’re gonna bother to send a message, they’d put in as much detail as they could, you know?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” he said dully. “I do what I’m told.”

“And that was in no way ironic,” she chuckled. “Angel, what’s going on here, really?”

“Huh?”

“You and Cordelia. I mean, I don’t get it. I tried to be open-minded, wish you the best and all, but I just don’t see what you guys are getting out of this. You still can’t be happy. And little-miss-irritable sure doesn’t seem happy either…”

“She’s happy,” he said.

“Really?” She paused. “I think I’m gonna give you that one,” she said with a rueful smile. “She was far too bitchy in high school to have ever been happy, and for all I know, for her, this could be it.”

She stepped up the pace, anxious to get this little mission over with.

**

As soon as they cleared Buffy’s front door, Willow dropped Cordelia unceremoniously and headed for her knapsack, gathering supplies. When Dawn flicked on the light, Cordelia’s fragile self-control finally shattered, and she slid from Tara’s half-grasp with a terrifying shriek of agony.

“Willow…”

“I hear her, Tara!” snapped Willow, annoyed. “Just…get her on the couch and try to hold her off while I…”

Dawn, once again forgotten in the fuss, retreated to the stairwell, plugging her ears and watching with horrified fascination as Willow assembled a magic shop’s worth of powders and charms on the coffee table. Tara had somehow gotten Cordelia into gray sweatpants, and they were absorbing the sweat in a way the black silk shirt had not. Suddenly, it was clear that they were in serious trouble.

Tara spread a towel on the couch and gently eased Cordelia over. She was mobile again, at least: muscles no longer confined to the effort of self-control, her slackened limbs were pliable, and Tara had her reasonably contained when Willow finally plopped down beside them. She studied Cordelia’s eyes, brushing aside a stray lock of her.

“Poor thing,” she crooned. “You ready?”

She picked up a vial of purplish powder and sprinkled it across Cordelia’s forehead, muttering an incantation. Cordelia stilled, and Willow hesitantly removed the restraining arm she had around her. She fell into Tara as Cordelia’s body abruptly tensed, limbs flailing, muscles twitching in terrifying spasm.

“She’s seizing!” shrieked Tara. “Willow, what did you…”

Willow, voice cracking only slightly with rising panic, ruffled though her backpack, withdrawing another vial. More powder. Another incantation. A moment later, the seizures stopped. Cordelia, in a single moment of lucidity, locked frightened eyes with Willow before collapsing into the pillows with a whimper of pain.

“She’s burning up,” said Tara quietly. “Willow, what’s…”

Willow raced through her powders, one by one. Undo the fever, bring on the hives. Undo the hives, bring on the nosebleed. Undo the nosebleed, bring on the rash, and after the rash, the vomiting, the cramps …

Tara glanced at Dawn significantly. “Get Giles,” she said.

Dawn, eyes wide, scattered.

“Tara, I…”

“What, Willow? We’re making it worse! What’s next, burns? Hallucinations? You’re in way over your head here.”

“Tara, I’m…”

“…in way over your head,” intoned Giles. He towered ominously in the doorway, appraising the scene with icy calm. “What have you done, exactly?”

“Giles, she was in so much pain, I was just trying to…I found some herbs at the magic shop, they’re healing herbs, and they were…”

“I thought we talked about this,” he sighed. “In magic, there are nuances that aren’t readily apparent, Willow. I thought we talked about this.”

He pushed her aside and knelt beside Cordelia, heedless of the sour, sticky reside of blood and sweat and acid. She twitched, too numb to cry out anymore, and he rifled through Willow’s bag until he found a single untouched vial at the bottom of the mess.

“It’s a very good thing that you’ve got this with you,” he said icily. He flung the powder into Cordelia’s eyes and took her hand softly.

“Undo,” he said. Her muscles slackened and she curled up again, pressing her fingers into her forehead with a whimper of distress.

Giles regarded Willow solemnly. “This is how you found her?”

Willow nodded.

“Okay,” he said. He met their gazes, one by one: Willow, stubbornly defiant. Dawn, frankly terrified, and Tara, to his delight, coldly furious.

“Dawn, take Tara into the kitchen and make her some tea,” he commanded, knowing that the task would focus her attention away from the horrifying aftermath of tonight’s little spectacle. Dawn’s gaze lingered on Cordelia, and he smiled reassuringly. “It’s all right, love, Willow and I will take care of her. She’ll be all right…”

“Not a word,” he snapped at Willow as Tara led Dawn away. He silently walked to the staircase and fumbled with a decorative curlicue in the lowest part of the banister. There was a small hidden compartment, and from it, he removed a vial of pills. He shook two into his hand, then wordlessly restored the banister to how he had found it.

With obscene gentleness, he placed the pills on Cordelia’s tongue, then forced a sip of water down her throat. He held her hand until she was out cold.

“Industrial-strength sleeping pills,” he told Willow. “And no, Buffy doesn’t know I have them. Until tonight, there has never been a situation dire enough to bring them out.”

“Giles, I’m sorry, I didn’t know this would…”

“Exactly. You didn’t know, and frankly, I am growing weary of trying to explain it to you. This isn’t something you can play around with, Willow. It’s serious.”

“I know, but Giles, if you had seen her…”

“I did see her,” he said softly. “As did Tara, and Dawn…my god, Willow, you nearly scared the girl to death with this little display! You don’t think seeing the vision was enough for Dawn, you had to add seizures and vomiting and god knows what else? I know that traumatizing Dawn is small potatoes next to nearly killing Cordelia, but still, it’s yet another consequence that you didn’t anticipate, isn’t it?”

“I know!” snapped Willow. “I know, I know, I know, okay? Just stop it, Giles! Stop! I get it, okay? Bad Willow, trying to help out, trying to make a contribution, trying to…”

“How dare you be proud,” he hissed. “There is nothing about what you did tonight that was noble, Willow. That’s what still isn’t sinking in for you. Magic is not there for you to prove how clever and talented you are. It has its own agenda.”

She looked stricken, and he softened, deciding he had made his point. “Would you like to know what you did wrong?” he asked gently.

Biting back tears, she nodded.

“The headaches aren’t just headaches, Willow, they are the visions trying to assert themselves, reminding the seer that there is unfinished business. When the case is solved, it goes away. When you masked the headache, the vision chose another manifestation.”

“So every time I masked one symptom, it picked another. Trying to assert itself.”

“Exactly.”

“But Giles, she was in so much pain. Wasn’t there anything…”

“I’ll sit down with her when I have the chance,” he said. “See if I can coach her in some of the meditation techniques I learned as a watcher…she does make it worse on herself, hiding it as she does. Perhaps if we taught her some pain management basics…”

“But Giles, wasn't there…I mean…”

“Not all stories have happy endings,” he said softly. “Sometimes, there simply aren’t easy answers.”

“Giles…”

“Doesn’t mean there aren’t ANY answers though.” He smiled. “Shall we clean her up before Angel gets back?”

She nodded, still trembling.

**

He crept inside quietly, not sure if she was awake.

“Morning,” he whispered.

Buffy stirred awake instantly. “Giles? Are you…”

“Hush, love, it’s all right. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay. I heard the shower going, anyway. Was about to…”

She buried her face in the pillow, and he climbed on the couch beside her. “Ummm,” she purred. “I like this couch-sleeping deal. Not so far for you to go to get me.”

“Not as private either,” he complained. “At any moment, someone could…”

“Please! My houseguests are a vampire, a Cordelia and a teenager. Not really known for the early rising.”

“Indeed. I trust your little adventure went well last night?”

She nodded. “For all the fuss of that technicolour vision of doom Cordelia had, turned out to be a standard vamp slice and dice. Could have done it in my sleep.”

In the dim morning light, she didn’t see his face darken. It hadn’t been that easy for Cordelia…

“How about you? You guys have fun at the party?”

“Yes,” he lied. “Absolutely.”

“Great,” she drawled. “Glad everyone got home okay.” She snuggled deeper into his arms, and Dawn trundled down the stairs in search of breakfast just in time to see them kiss.

**

There was a glow in his eyes as she returned from the shower, toweling off her dark, damp hair, skin hot and wet and wrapped in a soft cotton robe…

She met his gaze with a nervous smile. “Hey.”

“Morning,” he said.

She stepped around him cautiously. “Morning. Are you…” She followed his eyes. “This some kind of creepy extension of the sweat fetish, Angel?”

“You look beautiful,” he said softly.

“Okay. Um, thanks. Angel…”

He looked away, suddenly shy. “I remembered,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Our one month anniversary. I remembered.” He reached behind him and withdrew a small, flat package.

“Oh, Angel…” She flew into his lap, heedless of her dangerously cute state of undress. But Angel was too focused on being proud of himself to do any damage. He held the parcel just out of her reach.

“You need to guess,” he said.

“My, my, you ARE confident this morning,” she teased. “This has to be better than the first gift you got me.”

“It was lingerie,” he protested.

“Yeah, in a size ten. Size ten!”

“The average woman in North America is a size ten,” he told her. “The lady told me…”

She swatted his arm. “I forgive you. Now, gimme my present!”

“I’ve learned since then. Guess!”

She laughed. “Well, it’s round and flat. A book? Maybe poetry, something romantic?”

He hesitated. “I love you,” he told her. “I want you to be happy.”

“And?”

“And you know how much I appreciate…how I couldn’t, without you…but I know how important it is to you to keep a normal life outside the office, outside of…me…and you’re so smart, so interesting, I thought you might have fun with…”

She squinted suspiciously. “Angel?”

He finally let go of the package, and she tore off the paper. A thin, blue book fell into her lap. Los Angeles Community University. Course catalogue.

“Angel…”

“I love you, Cordelia. Happy anniversary.”

She was happy enough to risk a cuddle, which they were still blissfully and uneventfully involved in half an hour later when someone finally thought to come looking for them.

**

“I think that went well,” said Lilah.

“I know,” squealed Harmony. “I mean, honour bar---tacky. But the blood was decent, and those little hot dog things were…”

“Not that,” said Spike. “God Harm, you really are a blasted stupid little chit, aren’t you? She’s not talking about the food.”

Lilah slouched into a beanbag chair, smugly contended. “That Nathen Reed! Did you see the look on his face when she walked in, under her own power, no less?”

“Why Lilah,” said Spike in a fey falsetto. “I am so impressed. We never thought she would adjust this quickly.”

“Why at this rate,” drawled Lilah. “She’ll be off the sedatives before the month is out!” She snorted disdainfully. “Stupid Nathan! Practically killed him to give me credit for once.”

“Aw, I appreciate you love,” said Spike. “I’ll give you credit any time you…”

“Shut up, Spike.”

“Right.”

Lilah kicked off her shoes and turned her attention to the semi-conscious bundle at her feet. “Tsk, tsk,” she crooned. “Not feeling well, are you? Still having problems with the medication? Well, that’ll wear off.” She turned to Spike, suddenly anxious. “It will wear off, won’t it?”

Spike nodded.

“All right,” Lilah sighed. “Perhaps a nap, then? You still aren’t at full strength, after all, are you?” She snapped her fingers, and the two guards that waited in the hall way trudged inside and heaved their tiny hostage to her feet. “No pills today,” decided Lilah. “See how she does if we start weaning her off of them…”

She patted the woman’s face with a tenderness that bordered on affection. “I’m proud of you,” she said. “You did very well last night…Jenny…”

**

5: Up Yours

Cordelia Chase snuck up behind her boyfriend and shoved two loose flowers under his nose.

“Red or yellow?” she demanded.

“Huh?”

“For the lobby. Red or yellow?”

He pushed the flowers aside and grabbed her in a loose, affectionate hug. “You’re putting flowers in the lobby?”

“Maybe. Why, do you think something else should go there? Such as…furniture, maybe? Wicker? Rattan?”

He drew away and regarded her curiously. “Sudden interest in decorating. Is everything…is something going on that I should know about?”

She sighed and snatched a slim blue booklet off the desk behind her. “Enrollment deadline is coming up for fall session, and I’m just trying to figure out if flower arranging or interior decorating are interesting enough that I want to spend the rest of my life doing them.”

“Oh.” He flipped idly through the pages of the Los Angeles Community University course catalogue. “Have you…what does everyone…”

“EVERYONE is missing the point,” she complained. “You’re doing this school paying-for for me so I can have a life outside our work here, right? So I can have some fun, maybe make some extra money doing something normal and interesting and non-demony. And Wesley is all “I see they offer certification for private investigator licenses” and Gunn is all “law classes, maybe?” and Angel, if I wanted to battle lawyers and criminals and stuff…well, I don’t know why anyone would WANT to, but I’ve been doing that by necessity for the last two years with you. If I’m gonna to do school, I want it to be for something completely different. Something off-beat. Something fun.”

“And you think flowers and wicker furniture are fun?”

“That’s just the problem, I don’t know! Angel, I…”

“…don’t have to decide this minute,” he finished soothingly. “You’re right, Cordy, this IS supposed to be fun for you. So don’t stress it, okay? We have a few days until we have to get this stuff in…”

She sighed. “You’re right.”

“Wanna cuddle?” He saw her hesitate, and he brushed his finger gently against her cheek. “I promise I won’t…we seem to be okay as long as we keep our clothes on…”

“It’s not that,” she said. Just…I have something to do.”

**

“I have something to do!” hissed Lilah Morgan at the pathetic vampire that dared interrupt her. “Can’t this wait?”

“Oh yeah,” drawled Spike. “Something to do, all right. Is that the tenth hole I see before me, golf club toward my hand? Come, let me…”

“Oh, stop,” Lilah grumbled. “All right, Spike, I’m turning it off. This better be important.”

“It is,” he said. “So I was doing some snooping today…you know how I love doing that…”

“Uh huh…” She shuffled some papers on her desk, only half paying him attention. With a wounded pout, he eased himself into her spare chair, settling in for the long haul.

“Well, don’t you want to know where I was snooping?”

“All right, Spike. Where were you snooping?”

“In the office of your good buddy Nathan Reed. Seems he’s taken an interest in that little prophecy you’ve been mucking around with, love.”

“MY prophecy?”

Spike nodded. “Full moon, powerful witch returning to power…ringing a bell, pet?”

“That’s MY prophecy. It’s…why, it’s the reason for everything! It’s why I’ve been spending my days taking care of that sickly little technopagan I raised from the depths of…wherever I raised her from!”

Spike nodded. “She was to help you decipher the prophecy. Figure out who the powerful witch was and when she would be returning to power…”

“And Nathan’s been…”

“Nathan,” he said. “Is a poncy little dunce who can barely tie his shoes without a shaman helping.” He waved a file folder in her face. “You took the raising route to find your answers. He took the soothsayer route. I snatched the final report off his desk this very morn…”

“Did you check for copies? Is that…”

“Enchanted ink. Doesn’t copy.”

“And?”

“Well, you were close, love. The prophecy does speak of a powerful witch who will return to power. But you made a tiny translation error. It’s not DURING a full moon this will happen. It’s AFTER a full moon. And we’ve just had a full moon.”

“So you’re saying the powerful witch is already here?”

“My god, women, you still haven’t figured it out? You’ve been assuming it’s the good guys who work this little mojo?”

Her eyes widened. “Jenny Calendar! She’s a witch, and we…”

“We brought her back, Lilah. We brought her back.”

Her brilliant eyes sparkled merrily. “So what now?”

**

“Evening, sir.”

“Evening, madam.”

On opposite ends of the phone, Giles and Cordelia both smiled, relishing the moment of quiet that allowed them these few minutes to catch up.

“Right then,” he said softly. “Where should we start?”

She twirled the phone cord between her fingers. “Hmmm. Check-in first?”

“All right. Well, bad guys?”

“Nominal.”

“White hats?”

“Full strength.”

“And you?”

She thought for a moment. “Eight, I think.”

“Only an eight? But you sound well enough…how did you lose the two points?”

“Angsty preoccupation,” she sighed. “Waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? It’s been quiet, Giles. Too quiet. Something’s up.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“I know, I know. All right, your turn. Bad guys?”

“Up some. Bloody park’s been damn near infested three nights straight. Nothing Buffy can’t manage, mind you, but still…”

“Uh huh. So, white hats?”

“Present and accounted for.”

“And you?”

Silence, then a delicate “Six.”

“Six?” she screeched. “SIX? What the hell happened, Giles? You’ve never been so…SIX?”

He sighed. “It’s Dawn,” he admitted. “She’s…”

“Still?”

“Unfortunately. Seems she decided to deal with us by speaking only when necessary, and if so, with shouting.”

“Ugh. Well, that’s enough to drag you down two points max, Giles. So where’s the rest coming from?”

He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Well, she’s taken to name-calling…it’s rather…well, one can’t help but feel…”

“Oh, come in, you’re not taking that…you are, aren’t you?”

He hesitated. “Well, in addition to my not being her father, nor her watcher either, nor the boss of her, I’m also…well, dumb and mean and stupid and gross.”

Cordelia giggled. “That’s it?”

“It’s not funny!”

“I’m sorry, but it really is. Geez, Giles, I could do better than that. I mean, I have DONE better than…”

She caught his meaningful pause. “There’s more?”

“Well, it’s a delicate situation, Cordelia. She’s been through a lot, and our relationship is just one more adjustment. I’m afraid she’s decided the entire thing is…”

“Yes?”

He coughed awkwardly. “Weird. And wrong. And…freakishly, icksomely yuck.”

She laughed, spewing coffee all over the phone’s handset. “God, Giles, that’s…well, do you want me to talk to her?” she asked dutifully. “Cause I could call back when she’s…”

“Best let me handle it. If Buffy and I are to…well, she’ll have to get used to it, you know? Learn how to handle things…and speaking of handling, how are you and Angel holding up with the…”

“Nice try, buddy, but we are so not going there. For once, I want to end our chats with ME on top here. See, right now, you’re the one with problems, so that makes me the wise and sagely advice-giving one for once…”

“Now, Cordelia,” he admonished. “My problems have nothing to do with anything you might be…I mean, if you also need to talk tonight, don’t let my…” He sighed. “Look, it isn’t healthy to repress your feelings for appearance’s sake…I thought you had become comfortable enough by now to…”

“Comfort has nothing to do with it,” she said crisply. “Never did. If comfort was really something we cared so much about, we wouldn’t be doing what we do, now would we?”

“That’s not the point,” he said. “This has nothing to do with what we…Cordelia, Dawn is not a monster or a demon. She’s real life, and there’s no shame in admitting that sometimes real life can be just as hard to handle as…well, as supernatural life. Even normal people have families, have relationships…”

“Which they sometimes need to work through on their own. I don’t want to talk about it, Giles. I’m fine, for once, believe it or not. Angel is fine. Nothing to see, moving along…”

“In denial, are we? That’s the Cordelia I know and love…” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Right, then. Take care of yourself, you hear me?”

“Aye, aye, sir. Tomorrow night, same bat time, same bat channel?”

“Always.”

**

“Dawnster! Morning, babe!” Xander tromped through the kitchen and planted a kiss on Dawn’s cheek.

“Cereal?” He eyed her bowl with disappointment. “I thought there would be pancakes,” he complained. “It’s why I stopped in.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” said Dawn. “But…”

“But Buffy’s pancake girl, I know, I know. She’s still not up?”

Dawn shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know. When I came out of the bathroom, I heard her and Giles in her room, pretending they weren’t talking about me.”

“About you? Why would they…wait a minute,” said Xander, letting her words sink in. “Giles spent the night in Buffy’s room? Again?”

“Didn’t say that. Only said that he was in there when I went to bed last night, and he was in there as of eightish this morning. Doesn’t mean he spent the night, necessarily.”

“Sure,” said Xander. “You just keep telling yourself that.” He squinted thoughtfully. “Why DOES it bug you so much, anyway? Giles and…”

Dawn shuddered. “Why do you think, stupid? I mean, ewwww. And Giles is…”

“Giles is cool. He’s like a dad, except not drunk, abusive, and coldly indifferent.”

“Sure, like a dad,” said Dawn. “Cause we’ve all had such good luck with those.”

“Is that what this is about? Dawn, if you’re…I mean, does Buffy…”

She scrounged in the fridge, resolutely avoiding meeting his eye. “So, aren’t you supposed to be at work or something?”

He sighed, then picked up his lunchbox from the counter. “I am. And not that I mean to cut short breakfast with my favourite kid, but if there won’t be any pancakes, I really should get going. You’ll be okay?”

“Yes, Xander. The fifteen-year-old can manage cereal without any help.”

“I’m sure you can,” he said. “But that’s not what I meant.” He inclined his head upward, and she lowered her eyes.

“Oh, them. Yeah, I’ll be okay. I mean, I still don’t like it, and I sure don’t like having it shoved in my face first thing in the morning, but it’s not like I don’t have friends or anything, you know? I got places I can hang if things start to bug me.”

“Dawn….”

“Go to work, Xander. I can handle Buffy just fine.”

**

Lorne let his almost-girlfriend get about forty-five seconds of rant out of her system before he cut her off gently.

“So, how about them Lakers?”

There was a hiss of static as she twirled the phone cord around her finger. It was a cute thing she did, and he was sorry he had only the audio to amuse himself with. He heard her sigh in resignation.

“Changing the subject?” she complained. “Why is it you men have so much trouble talking about relationships?”

“Don’t dump that one on me,” he said. “If I recall correctly, you are the one who isn’t dealing with her feelings here, not me.”

“Oh, Lorne, don’t start…”

“Again, not the one with the problem in that area, sweetie. Just that I only have so many minutes to spare before I have to start preparing the Jubalian entrails for the lunch crowd, and I don’t really want to spend them gossiping about your neighbour and her love life.”

“And again, I say, why is it that you men have so much trouble talking about relationships?”

“And again, I say, I don’t. Just that your little project may loathe and despise you, and would never come near you with a ten foot pole, but MY little kiddies can barely survive a day without me.”

“And Angel and Cordelia are really confiding in you enough to keep you occupied?”

“Confiding? Sweetie, If all they did was confide, that would be one thing. But they sing, Katie. Have you ever heard Angel do Manilow?”

“I gave him some Jazz Cd’s for Christmas,” she said. “I thought it got him off the Manilow.”

“And SHE’S even worse than he is,” continued Lorne. “When she’s sober, she sticks with the boy bands, but when she’s…”

“Too much information, Lorne.”

“Sorry. Just that the nightmare’s still fresh in my head,” he said. “They were in here again last night. The little dear is thinking about a career change, and is running the LACU catalogue through the entire canon of the Indigo Girls. We’ve only gotten up to ‘Nomads, Indians, Saints’ and she’s already rejected interior decorator, plumbing technician, C++ programmer, pastry chef and molecular engineer.”

Kate chuckled. “And here I thought things in Sunnydale were bad. Look, Lorne, I really am sorry for dumping all of this crappy neighbour stuff on you. I just…it gets to me, you know? Angel explained to me what a slayer is, and I get that, I really think I do. But that’s no excuse for…for the fact that they’ve got a kid over there who’s funny and smart and cute…and she has a real shot at having a normal life if only someone would just…pay attention to her a little bit, you know?”

He did not respond. “Well, I guess I’d better let you go,” she said. “We’ll talk later?”

“Sure.”

“Oh, and Lorne?”

“Hmmm.”

“Do I want to know what a Jubalian entrail is, and what the lunch crowd will be doing with it?”

“Probably not.”

She blew a kiss into the receiver before she hung up.

**

Giles picked his way carefully across a training room full of Styrofoam pellets, and took advantage of the chance to admire his slayer in peace. She was clothed, if one could call it that, in a black sports bra and some athletic shorts made of the sort of shiny black material that looked very expensive. She was headbanging along to his Beatles greatest hits CD while artlessly trying to shove something cumbersome-looking into a tiny space between two shelves, and she yelped in pain when he put his arms around her waist and made her drop it.

“Hi,” she pouted. “And ow.”

“Sorry.”

“S’okay. Just doing a bit of reorganizing,” she explained. “Got in some new stuff today.”

He followed her gaze to where the tornado of Styrofoam coalesced and spilled over the sides of a large shipping box.

“Ah,” he said. “More videos. We’ll have to clear some room for those.”

“Hence, the mess,” she said impatiently. “And hence, the ow.” She crouched and began shoving again, and he watched her with some amusement.

“I am fairly certain that is not the proper way to train with a Pilates ring,” he said with a smirk. The spring-metal ring, firm enough to align one’s posture during exercise, but pliable enough to bend with suitable pressure, was not quite as large as a hula hoop but not quite as small as a lampshade. It would most assuredly not fit into the tiny crevasse she meant to relegate it to.

“Shut up and help me cram it in here, Giles. It’s taking up an entire shelf that I think can be better occupied by my new Cathe tapes.”

“Kathy? You haven’t outgrown such elementary exercise regimens by now?” He winced at the memory of cow-print spandex and perky aerobics he had tried so hard to repress. Buffy watched his face with barely repressed impatience.

“No, doofus, that was K-Kathy, and you’re right, her stuff’s way too easy. No, this is C-Cathe, and that’s a whole different thing. Exercise videos aren’t for wusses, Giles. There are tapes out there for even the most advanced exercisers, ya know, and Cathe with a C is queen of the queens. There’s the CTX series, and the Pure Strength series…”

She pulled an older video off the shelf and pointed to the heavy barbells and straining, muscular women. He studied the photograph impassively.

“Indeed. And this new arrival would be…?”

“New tapes. The ‘slow and heavy’ technique.”

He coughed. “Right, then. You realize, Buffy, that if I were an immature sort of fellow, I might read innuendo in that.”

“Really? And if I were a slacker, I would let you get away with using that to distract me from my training. But…sexy as you might be, we still have work to do.”

“Do we? And what sort of work are you proposing?”

She effortlessly glided her stretchy body onto the floor and balanced the Pilates ring between her thighs.

“Flexibility today. I think you said something about different ways to use the magic circle?”

“Indeed.” He efficiently stripped down to his boxers before he joined her on the floor. You got much better traction with this sort of equipment if you didn’t have clothes to worry about.

**

Cordelia Chase fought her way through the crowd, one ear cocked to the din of the fray and the other plastered to her cell phone, into which she gave a running commentary.

“God, Angel, they have everything here,” she enthused. “I mean…botany! I never even considered that. With that garden you have at the hotel, I could…oooh, or maybe subway technician? That could be…I already know the sewers, so I bet the learning curve would…”

“Subway technician,” repeated Angel dubiously.

“Oh, I don’t know, Angel, I’m just tossing out options here. I mean, there are lots of things that would be out of the question if this is just gonna be a part-time thing. But there are so many interesting programs here…I don’t see how I’ll ever decide…”

Angel laughed. “That’s why they have these open houses, Cordelia.”

“I know, I know. Oooh, here’s the booth for the plumbers. Pro: they make tons of money. But, con…uniform…”

On the other end of the phone, Angel grinned sentimentally. “I love you,” he said.

“I…awww, you do, don’t you?”

“Wesley says I should say it more. I’ve been practicing.”

“Very nice,” she praised. “And I love you too, right? Oh, hey, one sec, okay? Having trouble hearing…god, it’s a mob scene here, and I need to…”

She elbowed through the crush of people. God, everyone and their mother was here, it felt like, and judging from the logjam, they all wanted to be…she squinted at the booth’s placard. They all wanted to be…fashion designers. She shook her head, then did a double take when she thought she saw a familiar face.

“Nancy?” she gaped.

She was rattled enough to nearly faint, but she was able to choke “Gotta go” into the cell phone, and slam it off, before Angel had a chance to realize how freaked out she was.

**

Lilah settled the shiny new chair into position at the head of the table.

“Well?” she prompted.

Harmony squinted, her face angled awkwardly from the slant of her lopsided stool. “I don’t see why you get the nice chair,” she complained.

Lilah massaged the leather-backed swivel chair with a happy sigh before she sat down. “Because this is MY operation, Harmony. Whose idea was this raising in the first place?”

“Yours.”

“And who stole the incantation? Practiced it for weeks to get the intonation right?”

“You.”

“I mean, I had to do Latin, Harmony. Latin. Don’t you think that’s worth a new chair?”

Spike had yet to scavenge any sort of seating for himself, but he nonetheless mustered the expected amount of lust-driven approval.

“Right, love. And a fine job you did.” He squinted more carefully at the hospital gurney into which Lilah had propped her new favourite toy. “She does still seem a bit druggy, but the doc says it’ll take a few weeks for those pills of yours to clear her system…”

Lilah waved a hand in front of Jenny’s blank, vacant eyes. “You’re in there somewhere,” she cooed. “I know you are. And rest assured, Jenny, that one of these days, I’ll reach you. And when I do…” she grinned evilly. “When I do, you and I are going to have a lot of fun together.”

Harmony watched her boss dubiously, unimpressed. “What kind of fun?”

Lilah swiveled on her toe, startled. “Huh?”

“You said we were gonna have fun, and I was wondering what kind of fun. I mean, I was on board with that prophecy deal even AFTER you changed the plan to a raising. And that was cool and everything, but now…I mean, been there, done that…”

“She’s bored,” translated Spike.

Lilah frowned. “Oh.”

“So I was hoping you could fill us in on the plan, you know?” said Harmony. “What do we do?”

Lilah squirmed, sputtering nervously. “Well, there’s…well…Angel!”

“Yes? And?”

“And he’s still a problem,” improvised Lilah. “Because he could interfere with the…master plan. So before we can…implement…the plan, we have to take care of him.”

Lilah’s smile widened as the plan began to take shape in her head. “Yes, that’s right, we take care of him,” she decided. “By severing his connections to humanity, one by one. Starting with…starting with the seer, Cordelia.”

Lilah grinned smugly to herself, already formulating scenarios, and she was so caught up in her cleverness that she didn’t notice Jenny’s eyes sparkle briefly with very aware alarm at the mention of Cordelia’s name. By the time Lilah turned around again, the witch had already remembered her act and glazed her eyes over again with the mask of dumb oblivion.

**

Cordelia and her former classmate squared off cautiously, each unsure if this encounter would be entirely friendly.

“Hi,” said Nancy.

“Hi.”

“Been awhile,” said Nancy. “Graduation, I think.”

“Right, right. Some snake that was.”

“I know, it was wild. And…”

“And now here we are.”

“Yup. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait to get out of that hellhole.”

Cordelia nearly sputtered. “Hellhole?”

“ALL little towns are hellhole,” Nancy explained. “So small, so limiting…you know, my parents offered to pay for UC Sunnydale, but I had to ask myself, did I really want to spend the next four years with the same freaks and losers I went to high school with?”

“No,” guessed Cordelia.

“No,” concluded Nancy, on a roll. “I had enough, you know? Enough of freaky brain trusts like Willow Rosenberg, enough of freaky show-offs like Buffy Summers, enough of freaky immatures like my dumb, stupid brother Andrew…”

Cordelia paled noticeably, and Nancy paused mid-rant. “That’s right,” she realized. “I forget that you dated him for awhile. Wow, small world.”

Cordelia fidgeted uncomfortably. “Uh huh. So, you go to school here?”

Nancy grinned. “Changing the subject, are you? Bad associations with my dumb brother Andrew?” She caught Cordelia’s dangerous glare, and hastily continued “Yeah, I go to school here. I’m in third year. Psychology. You?”

“Um, open house?”

“Oh, you’re just enrolling! So that means you’re…since high school…”

“Working,” said Cordelia. “I’ve been in a few commercials…”

“Actress?” smirked Nancy. “Figures.”

Cordelia frowned. “What do you mean figures?”

“Hey relax, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. Just that we all have our own ways of dealing, you know? I lived with Andrew for 18 years, Cordelia, and there were two things that kept me sane during that time: therapy, and school. I excelled at both, and now I’ve found a way to combine them. You…I don’t know what he did to you, but I can read between the lines. You dated my brother, you dumped my brother, then you ran as far away from him as you could and became an actress…escaping? And escaping into the Hollywood scene, where you can reinvent yourself, reinvent your life and spend it pretending you’re other people…”

Lord, thought Cordelia. Save us from the psych majors. Would this awkward conversation never end? She didn’t want to talk about Andrew. He was a mistake, a post-Xander fling that…that she didn’t want to think about. Things had been going on, her parents, and Xander, and her life, and things…and there was Andrew, and he was cute, and he was a football player, and it was the summer break, and until it started going wrong, it was almost like having her old life back for one last time…

“It’s okay,” said Nancy with surprising gentleness. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Just…look, Cordelia, I would NEVER presume to tell another woman how to get over a jerk like stupid Andrew, especially someone I don’t know very well. But if he treated you anything like how he treated me…I don’t care how you deal, or how long it takes you, but you really should deal. Ignoring…well, that never lasts forever,” she said, with a meaningful nod at Cordelia’s trembling hands.

Nancy stood. “I won’t keep you from your open house,” she said. “But I hope you find the change you’re looking for here. It’s a great school, great people…it changed my whole life, you know? I’ve got school, I’ve got friends, I’ve got a sweet and loving boyfriend who would do anything for me.”

Cordelia smiled at that, the thought of Angel relaxing her just enough that Nancy’s final words hit her like a sucker-punch to the gut:

“And when I look into his eyes, it feels like I can see right into his soul, and know that he would never EVER be capable of hurting me.”

She froze.

**

Ten minutes into trying to wash the sweat off her palms, she finally stopped shaking enough to stagger into one of the bathroom stalls and whip out her cell phone.

“Giles?”

His voice crackled slightly with the fuzzy connection, but she could hear his pleasure. “Cordelia! What a lovely surprise. Is everything…”

“No.”

There was a heavy pause, and she could almost see his mental gears shifting.

“Bad guys?” he began briskly.

“Nu uh.”

“White hats?”

“Don’t care.”

“And you?”

“Freaking out.”

“I see that. Will you talk about it?”

“I guess I have to,” she said. “If I go home like this…he’ll smell it on me, Giles. And I don’t…” She took a deep breath. “I want to talk about it. But I don’t want to talk about with HIM right now. And you…”

“What, Cordelia?”

“I’ve already talked about it with you,” she said. “After the visions, during the…the raising…”

He remembered, poor thing. Three shocks at once: discovering that a happy moment in Angel could now induce visions. Then realizing Angel had already figured it out, and had kept it from her. And the final straw, an intense visionathon that she sobbed her whole way through, but that frighteningly, incomprehensibly excited the demon in Angel. How had she described her experience with him that night? Not as bad as rape, because she’d been there before, and that felt different…

“Tell me,” he said.

**

She gave the bag a final shake, and three salty crumbs drifted into her palm. Great, thought Kate gloomily. She was home, she was grumpy, and she didn’t have any more chips. She heaved herself off the couch, several sticky bits of cookie crumbs clinging to her sweater, and stepped outside for a bit of fresh air.

Hell of a way to spend your day off, she mentally chastised. A quiet day at home, that was all she wanted, and was it her fault that she happened to spend it by the window, and that people happened to do things while in the line of sight of that window? She wasn’t spying, per se. After all, she only used the telescope from time to time to clarify the picture…

She settled onto the porch step, inhaling the brisk, December air. Noble purpose, she reminded herself. The telescope, the skulky not-spying, the rumpled sweater and lack of potato chips---it was all for a noble purpose. Somebody had to keep an eye on that kid, didn’t they? Dawn Summers was a sweet kid, and a smart kid, and she was also a noble purpose: damned if Kate was going to let her fall through the cracks just because some vampires and demons had poor impulse control. Dawn was a good kid, a great kid, in fact. And…Kate squinted. She was a home kid. Home, in the middle of a school day…

She took a step across the shrub that separated their lawns. “Dawn?”

Dawn backed stealthily out the back door, a bulging over-size knapsack draped over her shoulders. At the sound of Kate’s voice, she spun around guiltily with a shy smile.

“Oh, Kate. Hi.”

“Hi. Everything all right there, Dawn?”

“Sure, Why wouldn’t it be?”

Wordlessly, Kate eyeballed the suspicious-looking backpack.

“Oh. That’s…I forgot this…when I left this morning? I need this, cause it…has some…stuff in it. Stuff I need.”

Kate narrowed her eyes. “School stuff?”

Dawn bobbed her head. “Sure. Absolutely.”

“Uh huh. You going back to school now?”

“Um…”

“Cause I’m all out of chips, but I think I may still have some cookies…”

“Uh…”

“Tell you what,” said Kate. “You join me for a cookie, and I’ll give you a ride back to school. Save you lugging that bag of yours halfway across town…”

Dawn nodded, eyes huge.

**

Slumped miserably in a strange, sad bathroom stall in the LACU student centre, Cordelia beamed her pain into the cellphone ether.

“It was so stupid,” she began. “So…so pointless, so shallow…he was cute, and he was rich, and I wanted…god, I don’t know what I wanted, I mean, I had already lost my parents, my friends, my life…it wasn’t like being vain and materialistic had really gotten me anywhere, you know?”

“It’s alright,” said Giles. Useless to tell her so, he knew. A futile telephone equivalent to patting her on the arm. Not for the first time, he wished that girl could do the simple thing for once in her life, and simply talk to people when they were in front of her, instead of shutting down until she couldn’t stand it any more, so that she had to do it this way…

“And he was okay, at first,” Cordelia babbled. “Or maybe…maybe we just weren’t doing anything complicated enough for him NOT to be okay, you know? Drinks at The Bronze, coffee, maybe we went to a movie or something…and maybe I already knew I’d be leaving Sunnydale, so I didn’t notice, didn’t really care that he was a bit too…smooth…”

“It’s alright,” he soothed.

“No, it’s really not. He was…he was bad, Giles. Just…bad. I would understand it more if I could have seen it coming, you know? If he had always been aggressive, and finally gone too far…I still wouldn’t like it, but I might understand. But Andrew…it wasn’t like that. He planned it, Giles. I never knew he had that in him because until the night he…well, you know…he never touched me.”

She paused, letting the implication sink in. “Maybe a pat on the arm or a peck on the cheek,” she finished softly. But nothing in depth, and you know why? Cause he knew exactly what he wanted to do, and he was saving himself for it, waiting until he could get me when I couldn’t fight back. He…he borrowed a car. He parked it. Then he just…kinda leaned over, and had me pinned. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t struggle…”

“My god…”

“Yeah, god. Kind of ironic that ‘god’ didn’t decide to monitor my sex life until now, isn’t it? Could have saved myself a lot of grief, not to mention several demon impregnations, which is a whole other story we won’t go into just now…”

She took a shuddering breath. “Well, I told it. Wow.”

“Indeed.”

“So…what do we do now? Is it…I mean, are we done?”

“Probably not. Something happened that triggered this memory, am I right?”

“I ran into his sister at the open house today. She’s a psych student, did the amateur head job on me.”

“I see.”

She cracked a brave smile. “You do it better, if that’s any consolation.”

He smiled too, but not entirely happily. “Look, Cordelia, you might need help with this.”

“Giles…”

“Even someone as brave and as strong as you,” he persisted. “Not a lot of help, necessarily, but help nonetheless. You might start by confiding in Angel.”

She shuddered. “Not gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

“No point. I feel better now.”

“I’m glad. But…”

“But what? What’s he gonna do about it, Giles? Fix it? He can’t. So he’ll brood and he’ll hover and he’ll drive me up the wall…and there’s no percentage in that, let me tell you.”

Her voice cracked, a little, sadly, but decisively. “I can deal, Giles. I have been dealing. Things happen, in the past. Things happen, and sometimes they suck, but then they are over, and you lock them away and never think about them again.”

“A rather bloodless outlook, isn’t it?”

“Well, how else do you do it? Giles, if we had to sit down and talk about every bad thing that ever happened to either of us, we’d be sitting down for a very long time.”

He let her absorb his silence for a moment. “This is your baggage,” he finally said. “He’ll want to carry it with you.”

“Right. So you’ve had this talk with Buffy, then. Told her all of your secrets?”

“We aren’t talking about me right now.”

“No fair! You can’t play that card during a serious talk.”

“I’m sorry. But you have a point, I suppose. My past may not be as complicated as Angel’s is, but it IS more complicated than Buffy’s. When we do have the talk, we can’t possibly cover it all with one conversation…”

“So where do you start?”

“Same place you will, I imagine. I was young, and naïve, and there was this boy…”

“I…huh?”

“It’s the same for all of us, isn’t it? You either ARE that boy, or else you go and find him…”

He took in her stunned speechlessness with a satisfied smile. “Right, then. Bad guys?”

She took a deep breath. “Retreating.”

“White hats?”

“On standby.”

“And you?”

“Hmmm. Six, I think.”

That would have to do. Not at full strength, obviously. But more than halfway there.

**

Dawn finally took a breath after her third cookie. “This is quality stuff,” she said between mouthfuls of chocolaty almond stuff. “I can’t believe you can afford these. I mean, cop…”

“They’re cookies, Dawn. Even cops can afford cookies. Fancy cookies, even.”

“Well, if you are gonna share them,” said Dawn, reaching for another. “Lucky it’s with someone like me who appreciates them. This is some quality cookie, ya know?”

“Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” Dawn’s gaze wandered awkwardly. “So, how’s…stuff?”

Kate blinked. “What?”

“You changed some things,” said Dawn, slurping her milk. “Since the party? And some of it…” She pointed to a garish lampshade. “Some of it seems a little not you , you know? You and Lorne have a fight or something?”

“Dawn!”

“What? It’s a fair question. I mean, why else would he buy you stuff?”

She saw an opening, and seized it. “Is that what Buffy does when you get mad at her?”

Dawn’s eyes darkened. “Buffy doesn’t care when I get mad at her.”

“Oh. Really.”

“Oh, it’s not her fault,” said Dawn. “It’s not even…look, Buffy’s cool, when she’s around. She lets me do my own thing, which is great. But now that she and Giles are together…”

“Giles?”

“Older, bad dresser, stiff-upper-Brit?”

“Oh. Right.”

“Anyway, he’s practically living at our house now, and he’s so strict! He’s all ‘where are you going and who are you going with and when will you be home’ and stuff, and…”

“And?”

“And if he even cared, that would be one thing. I mean, he tries, but something always comes up…the magic shop, or Buffy, or demons or monsters or the end of the world…Angel did tell you about the whole slayer thing, right? Cause otherwise, I’m gonna be in really big trouble for blowing the whole secret identity thing.”

“Angel told me.”

Dawn reached for another cookie. “And did anybody even ask me what I thought about the whole thing? Of course not. Cause I’m little Dawn who is too young and innocent to do anything or know anything or have any opinions, and how am I gonna compete with the end of the world, anyway?”

“Does the…the end of the world…come about a lot?”

Dawn chewed thoughtfully. “It didn’t used to. But now there are these lawyers Angel knows, and they’re working on something and nobody knows what, so every time he calls, Giles and Buffy run off to L.A. to go help them…”

Kate frowned. She knew Buffy was not always home at night, but this sounded frequent. She had no idea it was this frequent.

“And when they go to L.A. what happens to you?”

She shrugged. “Someone stays with me, or I stay with them. Willow and Tara you met, they’re pretty cool, they’re witches and they do spells and stuff. Sometimes it’s a little scary, but they try not to do stuff around me. Oh, and there’s Spike, he’s awesome, but he’s a vampire so he can only come at night, and come to think of it, he hasn’t been around much lately…and Xander, and Anya…you met them too, right? He’s the big cute guy, and she’s the ex-vengeance demon…”

It was worse than she thought. The sole legal guardian of a minor child, routinely leaving said minor child alone, in the care of demons, vampires and lesbian witches?

She picked up her purse with one hand, and with the other, gently touched the girl’s shoulder. “Dawn…I know how hard these sorts of things can be, and…and I just want to say that if you ever need anything…”

“Hey, that’s really nice of you. But I’m cool. I’ve got friends I can hang with, you know? In fact,” said Dawn, skidding out the door, “I’m going to meet them right now.”

**

Angel, torn clothes hanging limply off his sopping wet frame, deposited his jacket on the couch with incomprehensible tenderness and traced his eyes across the Hyperion’s lobby.

“Cordelia?” he called.

Wesley appeared behind him, eyes glowing with the tell-tale smugness of an inveterate busybody. “She’s not here,” he said. “And may I say, Angel, that’s quite a state you’ve gotten yourself into. She can’t leave you alone for a minute, can she?”

“Not my fault,” said Angel defensively. “I was walking along minding my own business and these Hogarth demons just attacked me…”

“Right,” said Wesley. “Just walking along like the lamb-pure innocent VAMPIRE that you are…”

Angel carefully withdrew the long, slim package he had been protecting with his jacket, and peeled off the paper to show off the tattered dozen roses to Wesley. Wesley rolled his eyes, exasperated.

“Flowers. Well, that explains it, then.”

“Huh?”

“Hogarth demons. Didn’t you get my sticky note? They are on the streets again as of yesterday for mating season, and they eat flowers.” He scanned Angel’s torn clothing with obvious displeasure. “Well, Cordelia will be quite upset with you. You’d best clean up before you meet her.”

“Huh?”

“Cordelia,” he enunciated carefully. “Look, Angel, have you even seen Cordelia since this morning?”

“You just said she wasn’t here,” he said, confused.

“Well, forewarned is forearmed, as they say. She’s in a rotten mood.”

He tensed. “Cordelia? Is she…”

“Came in at around one and spent an hour in fiery combat with your new heavy bag. She was quite magnificent, if I do say so myself. She’s clearly been practicing, and if I hadn’t been researching, I would have joined her for some…”

“Wesley…”

“Right. She’s gone back to her apartment to, and I’m quoting directly here, have a bath and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s with Phantom Dennis.”

“Ice cream,” he growled. An hour of kicking and fighting was venting enough, but comfort food on top of that? Cordelia only ate ice cream when she was upset…

“If it’s any consolation,” said Wesley cheerfully. “I don’t think it’s you she’s angry at. She said there was no need to go get her, that she would meet you at Caritas for your date this evening.” He regarded Angel’s torn clothing once more with a disproving shake of his head. “You’d best get moving if you hope to be presentable by then,” he said reproachfully. “You really should have read my sticky note.”

**

Giles returned with take-out Chinese food to find his slayer pounding every muscle she had into the training mat with scary focus. He stashed the food to the side and studied her body carefully for tell-tale clues. Warrior One to Tree Pose, and her legs were steady enough, so it couldn’t be grief, or hurt, or sadness. Those went straight to her knees, and while her moves were recklessly focused, they were hardly wobbly. Tree Pose to Right Triangle, and exhaustion went straight to her side…but her stability was adequate, factoring in a handicap for her emotionally wrought poor form, of course…

Triangle to Downward-facing Dog, sliding through the cobra stretch and into the plank, supporting her upper body on wobbly elbows…ah, there it was. In anger, her arms were first to go.

“I’m fairly certain,” he said. “That Yoga is not a contact sport.”

She startled as he broke her concentration, then flopped to the floor. “Just burning off steam.”

“That’s not your usual method. Having trouble landing our punches, are we?”

She made no effort to rise off the mat. “What do you know?”

“I know that you’re distracted,” he said, “Because when you are, your form invariably suffers. I know that you’re angry, because you’re dropping your elbows, and targeting your moves far too recklessly to compensate for it. I know that you’re sulking, because that makes you impatient, and you gave up rather quickly on the kickboxing when it started giving you trouble. And I know that you’re panicking, because I see no other reason you would stoop to yoga except as means of relaxation.” He eyed her tense body quizzically. “Doesn’t appear to be working, does it?”

She glared, still not softening. “It so creeps me out that you can do that.”

“There’s a reason they call me a watcher,” he said. Then, he eased himself on to the floor beside her, letting his emotional boyfriend half catch up to his methodical watcher self.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Her eyes hardened, but she let herself relax in his embrace. “Dawn’s teacher called. Wanted to know if there was anything going on at home that she should know about.”

Giles winced. “Oh dear.”

“Oh dear indeed. Said Dawn’s missed four classes this week. Said she knew I was trying, that she respected me trying to take care of Dawn all by myself. But that there are people who could help me, if I can’t manage things, and I shouldn’t be ashamed.”

“People.”

“Like, social work people, I think. Said that Dawn’s been acting out a little…nothing that, in her opinion, a stable home environment and lots of one-on-one attention couldn’t fix…Giles, I can’t do one-on-one. I mean, I would love to, but she won’t even talk to me right now. And you wanna know the clincher?” She drew a shaky breath. “It’s our old friend, lack of a stable father figure. Like it’s MY fault our father is in Spain with his secretary, and she won’t talk to you. Giles, what am I gonna do?”

**

He resisted the urge to stop by her apartment, and as he strolled into Caritas, he was congratulating himself on his maturity. Cordelia often accused him of skulking and hovering, and he felt his behaviour tonight, respecting her space even though she had eaten ice cream, was admirable. His puffed-up chest deflated as soon as he saw a grim-faced Lorne accost him at the door.

“Before you get all papa bear and start blaming ME for this, I just want to point out that I cut her off after three rum and cokes,” said the demon bartender without preamble.

Angel’s jaw clenched. “What?”

“They were WEAK rum and cokes,” he clarified. “Look, I didn’t know what was going on until she started singing, and I cut her off right after that. Poor thing…”

“What?” he hissed.

“…and since she’s clearing out her system as we speak, I really don’t see the need to blame anyone for…”

Angel grabbed Lorne by the throat and slammed him against the wall. “What. Happened.” He growled.

“Whoa, down boy. What happened is the lovely Cordelia came in about an hour ago, told me she was waiting for you, and proceeded to amuse herself until you got here by trying to get piss-drunk. Within half an hour, she was smashed enough that I could worm a song out of her, at which point, I cut her off and sent her into the bathroom with my waitress, Hacienda.”

Angel growled again, but loosened his grip on the demon bartender. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Right, bro. Don’t you want to know what she sang?”

“Indigo Girls?”

“What else? Scooter boys and Argentinians, Europe shed the blood of the Indians. Here I sit in the land of plenty…crying about my own virginity.”

Angel winced.

“And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter,” said Lorne. “That girl’s aura is her own business, and I don’t think she’s quite ready to share it with you right now. That’s the bad news. The good news is, you’ll be having a visitor, and I told Wesley to bring her here as soon as he’s found her. A good distraction is just what Cordelia needs right now.”

He glided off to serve another customer, and left a dumbfounded Angel standing in the doorway, waiting to see what would happen next.

A shaky Cordelia was timidly nibbling French fries under his supervision when, twenty minutes later, Wesley arrived with Dawn Summers in tow.

**

Buffy Summers walked the streets of Sunnydale alone. She was on her way back from patrolling, and Giles had offered to come with her. But patrol had been quiet lately and she wanted time alone to think. And more importantly, she wanted to go home alone. It was time to have a heart to heart with Dawn.

The last thing she expected to see was Kate Lockley perched comfortably on her porch step, eating chocolate chip cookies and working her way through a can of beer.

“Hi,” said Kate.

“Hi,” said Buffy. She craned her neck over Kate’s shoulder, taking in the dark windows with a worried frown.

“She’s not here,” said Kate, following Buffy’s glance. “Would have let me in if she was.”

“And you wanted to come in because…”

Kate sighed. “Because I wanted to talk to you,” she said. “Look, we both know that you are not my favourite Sunnydale neighbour. You’re reckless, you’re dangerous, and frankly, a little self-involved, but I’m putting that aside right now because I have other things to worry about. Your sister Dawn is one of those things, Buffy.”

Buffy’s hands clenched. “What do you know about my sister Dawn?”

“Oh, maybe more than you think. I know that she’s smart, I know that she’s beautiful, and I know that she’s unhappy. I know that she’s been acting up at school, when she deigns to go, which isn’t often these days. I know it took her teacher two weeks to get you in one place for long enough to take her phone call about it.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Because she told me,” said Kate. “When I went to visit her this afternoon.”

Buffy froze. “You went to see Dawn’s teacher? What gives you the right…”

An indignant Kate was in her face in an instant, flashing her badge. “THIS gives me the right,” she hissed. “This gives me the right to do whatever I have to do to protect an innocent.”

“And you think that’s what you’re doing by meddling in my life and spying on me and my sister?”

“I think it does. Your sister is THIS close to falling through the cracks, Buffy. You might be too busy fighting vampires to see it, but she’s hurting. The world might need you, but your sister needs you too, and if you don’t get off your high horse long enough to swallow your pride and admit---to her, and to people like me who can help you---that you’re in way over your head here, you’ll lose her. I just want to make sure that you don’t lose her to someplace worse than where she is now.”

Buffy took a step back, struggling to calm her racing heartbeat. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, voice icy. “NO idea. Dawn and I---you can’t possibly understand what we…I mean, I would die for her. I HAVE died for her. You have no way of understanding.”

Kate rolled her eyes, unconvinced, and Buffy took a defiant step forward. “Get off my property,” she hissed. “And Kate? Don’t EVER play the cop card with me again.”

**

Lorne beamed encouragingly at his new arrival.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “You okay here?”

Dawn stared at the demon clientele with wide-eyed fascination. “Cool,” she whispered. Then, at normal volume, “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen lots of demons before. Plus Cordy told me they can’t hurt you in here anyway, right?”

“Exactly,” said Lorne. “Now, will you be having Coke or Sprite?”

“Can I sing?”

“Of course. But don’t you want to say hello to your friends first?”

He pointed to a corner table beside which Angel paced nervously, half an eye on Dawn and Lorne, and the other half hovering over an out-of-it Cordelia. Dawn snapped to attention, eyes bright with alarm.

“Is she all right?”

“You tell me. Think she’ll talk to you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you know what you have to say to her?”

“Yup. So, tag-team? I take Cordy, you take Angel?”

They nodded and slapped each other a high-five before she dropped her bag at his feet and skipped to Angel’s table with an impish grin.

**

The night air was brisk, but she hadn’t even wrapped her arms around herself by the time he got there. With a shiver, he removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Buffy? Buffy, I’m here, are you…”

“I’m gonna lose her,” said Buffy woodenly.

Giles eased down beside her, then snapped up off the frigid porch step with a wince. “Talk to me,” he said gently. He shivered. “Inside.”

She had shut down enough to let him lead her, zombie-like, into her house. He set her on the couch and removed his jacket, replacing it with a quilted blanket.

“Now, what’s going on?” he said.

“I’m gonna lose her,” Buffy repeated. “I can’t do this.”

He squinted. “Dawn?”

“She’s not here,” said Buffy. “I came home, and she wasn’t here. Just…gone. I failed her, Giles. I failed her.”

“Now,” said Giles soothingly. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, Buffy. Now, you came home and Dawn wasn’t here. Did you find a note anywhere?”

Buffy stared at him blankly, and he sighed. This was his day for women in crisis, wasn’t it? Well, at least he wouldn’t have to worm it out of her as he had with Cordelia. Buffy was quite good at sharing her feelings when so inclined. That this ‘so inclined’ was likely to manifest as horribly disconcerting tearful sobbing…

“Right then. And I assume you’ve already called her friends and checked to see if she was out somewhere?”

Another blank, catatonic stare. Lovely.

**

Angel was in full broody-protective mode, but Dawn showed no fear and sat down purposefully beside him.

“Hi Angel,” she said.

“Hi.”

“Lorne wants to talk to you,” said Dawn.

Angel kept a protective hand on Cordelia and didn’t move.

“I could probably make up an excuse or something,” she continued. But it’s been a long day, I’m tired, you’re tired…so just be good and scram for a few, ‘kay?”

He growled, and she shook her head defiantly. “Look, you know you’ll do it anyway. He’ll make you, or I’ll make you…”

He tightened his grip on Cordelia’s arm.

“She’ll be okay here, I promise. I’m staying with her, see? Look, the sooner you get it over with, the sooner you…well, the sooner you get it over with. Then you can have her back again, right?”

Angel reluctantly loosened his hand, and Dawn gave him an encouraging smile. “There you go…” Then she turned to Cordelia. “Alone at last,” she said. “So, you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to guess?”

**

Buffy huddled on the couch, near-catatonic, as Giles worked his way through Dawn’s address book.

“Well, if you see her…yes, thank you, Mrs. Delaney. Yes, I’ll certainly…yes, you have a pleasant evening too.”

He put down the phone with a sigh. “You can come out now,” he said wearily.

Buffy uncurled her legs and eased herself upright, the glow returning to her eyes.

“They were right,” she said dully. “I really have lost her.”

“Now, what makes you say that?” he said. “They?”

“Dawn’s teachers. The social workers.” She paused, breath catching in her throat. “Kate Lockley…”

Ah. He was aware, mostly through his conversations with Cordelia, that Buffy’s new neighbour had taken a somewhat meddlesome interest in Dawn. He supposed a confrontation was inevitable, and if Kate had picked a night when Buffy was already in an off-mood…

“She pulled her badge on me,” said Buffy. “And I wanted to smack her, I really did. But she was…she was right, Giles. She said…she said I was losing Dawn. That I was in over my head…”

Now, the tears came. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” she whimpered. “I can’t…I can’t do it. I…what’s wrong with me, Giles? I can take care of the world. Why is it I can’t take care of her?”

**

Cordelia blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“Come on, Cordelia, you can’t be THAT drunk. It’s pretty obvious. I ran away.”

“Why?”

“Wanted to.”

Cordelia shrugged, eyes listless. “Makes sense.”

Dawn frowned reproachfully. “You are SO not paying attention.”

Cordelia deflated, sinking her head into her hands with a helpless sigh. “I’m sorry…”

“What?” said Dawn gently. “Cordy, what is it? Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“No! I mean, yes, I mean…it shouldn’t be. I talked about it. I fought it out. I had a bubble bath and ice cream and alcohol everything…so why am I still feeling this way?”

**

Lorne set down a mug of blood in front of Angel.

“You wanna talk, big guy?”

Angel glared, but scooped up the mug with a irritable snarl.

“All right,” said Lorne. “I’ll talk. Question is, where do I start? With what’s going on in YOUR head right now, or with what’s going on in hers?”

He stared hard at Angel, and the vampire finally put down his mug and whispered “She won’t tell me.”

“Ah. So who did she tell then?”

Angel’s eyes widened, and Lorne confirmed his guess with a nod. “Uh huh. And Angel, this is SO not the time to be getting jealous about that. She loves you. She trusts you. And she’s opened up to you as much as anyone.”

“Then why would she…”

“Why do you think?” Lorne reached behind the bar and pulled out a drink for himself. “Let’s go into YOUR head for this one. If I have you as pegged as I think I do, right now, you’re watching her shut down on you, and you’re wondering if maybe she’s better off without you.”

Angel looked down, nodding guiltily. “We were watching this movie a few nights ago. Some science fiction thing where this guy meets up with himself, from another dimension. Same guy. Same life. But just one thing happened differently, and it changed everything.”

“Neato.”

“Yeah. And Cordelia starts wondering what another her would be like. Wouldn’t it be fun, she said, to go to the world where she’s a famous movie star? A rich socialite? A supermodel? She saw all these alternate hers…and they were all successful, happy, rich…and it made me wonder what I could give her.”

“In those realities? Probably nothing. But in this one…look, I really shouldn’t be telling you this, cause a person’s aura is really their own business. But did it ever occur to you that maybe this particular problem had nothing to do with you at all?”

Angel’s eyes widened, and Lorne patted his arm with a chuckle. “I can see that this might be a revolutionary concept for you, but it’s the truth. Gypsy curses, powers-that-be…fair enough, you’re special. But before that girl met you, she had a life, you know. She had problems. And some of them did not involve the forces of darkness at all. Some of them were just…problems. And you getting all world-is-dark-and-scary doesn’t make it any easier for her to talk to you, you know.”

Angel blinked and forced his attention in Lorne, newly intent. “So what do I do?”

**

Lorne rubbed his pounding horns uncomfortably as the unfamiliar boom of rock music soiled his beautiful club. On stage, Dawn, in full teenage headbanger mode, bounced along with the lyrics.

"Up yours, stop your whine. Feelin' swell, and I'm doin' fine. Yeah fuck your suicide
it's all bullshit 'cause I tried and it really don't impress me all that much..."

He winced, as she cranked up the volume, getting into her performance.

"Up yours, what'd you find? Sit right down, I got time. And you say here comes the end
and you haven't got a friend and I'm standing here just screaming at the wall..."

He let her finish the verse, then shooed her off-stage and got straight to business.

"Well, that was quite the musical recitation of pain. You feeling a bit neglected, Sweetums?"

She shrugged. "You're the aura doctor, you tell me."

"All right, I will. And it's probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but sweetheart, you've got to come clean with them and tell them why you're really scared."

She opened her mouth to protest, and he raised his hand to shush her. "I understand. But I'm being straight with you, cause I think you and I understand each other. Coming clean does not guarantee you an easy fix. But it does guarantee you an eventual fix."

"But Lorne, they..."

"Uh huh," he said. "It's hard, isn't it? Harder for you, anyway, because you ARE so smart, so they expect you to roll over and be the mature one here. No matter what happens, don't ever forget that you have the right to a point of view. And you have the right to stomp your foot and whine 'what about ME?' from time to time. But sweetheart, my advice to you? Be frugal when it comes to playing that card. You understand?"

"I think so. So...what now?"

He flicked his eyes at Angel and Cordelia. "Think they'll be alright?"

"Maybe. With those two, I think it's better that neither of them has a clue, you know? If they knew what was really bothering each other, I think it would kind of freak them out."

He chuckled. "I knew I was right about you. Well, would you like to help me wipe tables while Angel gets her cleaned up?"

"Can I have another Coke?"

Lorne shook his head. "I think Cordelia needs to get home right now, don't you? And your sister doesn't want you having any more sugar tonight."

Dawn frowned. "My sister? When did you..."

"Let's not be getting all defensive here," he warned. "Had to let her know we had you, didn't I? She was all set to drive to L.A. tonight, but I pointed out that if you wanted to be in Sunnydale, you wouldn't have run away..."

"I can stay?"

"She's picking you up sometimes tomorrow afternoon. But for now, you can stay."

Dawn shrieked with glee, and, totally forgetting her dislike of scales and horns, embraced the host in a delighted hug.

He shrugged, and picked up her bag, marching her over to Angel's table. "Katie is so gonna hate this," he sighed.

**

Buffy collapsed on the couch, head resting in Giles' lap as she let him stroke her hair and tenderly pick out the tangles.

"Feeling better?" he soothed.

"Hmmm. We almost had it, didn't we?"

He lowered his hand and began rubbing her back in gentle circles. "Had what?"

"It. Us. The whole thing, we almost had it. Buffy, with the normal relationship, the settling down, the house, the kid....I know I didn't...didn't want to be a mother, not like this, at any rate. But how many other chances would I have had?"

She smiled wistfully. "You would have moved in at some point, and maybe we would have gotten tired of my crazy hours and sprung Faith from jail or something...and we would have had it, Giles. You and me and Dawn...the perfect little Hellmouth family."

His heart broke for her. "Buffy..."

"Don't talk. Just...sit with me for awhile, will you? Let me relax..."

He swallowed hard and folded his arms around her. "We still can have it, you know. She'll...she'll come around, Buffy. One of these days, she'll..."

"Hmmm. Maybe. Probably. I don't know. Fate doesn't exactly have a reputation for doing me any favours, does it? I understand my priorities, Giles. Keeping her safe, I can do. Keeping her happy---well, that would just be a bonus."

"Buffy..."

"It's okay," she insisted. "For now, she may be angry, but she's safe at least. Angel and Cordelia...she'll be safe, for now."

He sighed and pulled her deeper into the cuddle, choosing not to share his suspicion that Cordelia was not in any shape to take care of herself right now, never mind a confused and hormonal teenager who had emotional baggage...and who---more frightening still--- loved her.

**

She woke up hot and breathing, brain tangled with swirls of images, tints of panic. Too many pictures mixing themselves up in there, too many memories, too many bruises, too many slimy mounds of rot and ache...too many ghosts, and all she could do was kick, rail, fight against the choking cloying of fear, the rush of stimulus flooding her poor, battered brain, the nightmare, can't hurt, can't move...

"Hey, it's okay," she heard. Two tiny hands reached out to her and gently worked her arms free from the tangled sheets. "It's okay," she heard again, more clearly now. "You with me yet?"

Cordelia shook her head weakly, trying for deep breaths. "Feel sick," she choked.

Dawn came into focus, nestled on the bed with her amidst a gaggle of pillows. "Hangover," she explained. "You were supposed to sleep through it." Then, noting the panicked sheen of almost-tears in Cordelia's eyes, she added "But you're okay now, really. We brought you back to the hotel, do you remember? Angel dropped us off about two hours ago, and Wesley's just outside if we..."

"Angel..."

"He went to your apartment for awhile to check on Phantom Dennis and get some clothes for you. I'm staying here, and he thought you might want..."

Cordelia coughed miserably and shrugged away from her. "Too hot," she complained.

Dawn gingerly tugged on the corner of the blanket, carefully readjusting it. "Better?"

Cordelia sniffled, closed her eyes, then opened them. "No."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

"No."

"Should I..." Dawn glanced significantly at the door. "Maybe you need Wesley. I could...I should call him, he's better at..."

"No!" The threat of intervention seemed to revive her, and she huddled her way upright, keeping the clammy blanket tightly wrapped around her. "I'm okay," she said, exhaling deeply. "Just a nightmare. I think."

Dawn nodded, relieved. "Definitely."

Cordelia looked down again, ashamed. "You shouldn't be taking care of me like this."

Dawn shrugged. "Why not? It's better than sitting here worrying about my own problems, isn't it?"

"I always thought so. And...well, you can see how THAT worked out. If you don't deal with it while you're awake, it'll come back to bite you when you're asleep, won't it?"

"Guess so. So you gonna tell me about it?"

"No."

"Cordelia..."

"Not now," she said. "It's something...something that I need to think about. I do need to talk about it, but not...not like this. Not now. Maybe...maybe soon?"

Dawn snuggled in beside her. "I know the feeling."

"Is...is Angel back yet?"

"No. I'm sorry."

Cordelia sighed and wrapped her arms around the smaller girl. "Well, should we try to get some sleep, then? Tomorrow...it's gonna be a big day, isn't it?"

She closed her eyes, and this time it was Dawn who lay awake and trembled. It WAS going to be a big day. But she could handle it...couldn't she?

**

Lilah Morgan sat in front of three video monitors, checking up on her various projects. Something wasn’t right, and damned if she could put her finger on it…she pressed intercom 1.

“Spike?”

His face loomed large on the first monitor, and she squinted at it, trying to adjust the picture.

“Godammit, woman,” he called, the screen zooming in as he waved his hand in her face. “I’m right in front of you.” She squinted again, and she heard him sigh. “Like, in the room in front of you?” His on-screen eyes followed her cluelessly wary ones, and he finally gave up and reached his hand over the cubicle wall and smacked her.

“Over here,” he instructed. “There you go, stand up, power down…I’m right here.”

“Well, you’d better be over HERE,” she snapped. “I need you to look at this.”

He still had not secured himself a proper chair, and had been lounging just out of her eyeline, against the wall of her fancy new workstation. He leapt to his feet and approached the monitors.

“What, love?”

“Take a look at this,” she instructed. “And don’t call me love.”

“Right, then. What have we here?”

“Three monitors, three special projects. Number 1’s on you,” she began.

“I’m a special project?” He shuddered. “Turn it off! Standing here watching myself standing here watching myself…that’s a little too meta for me, if you know what I mean…”

She turned the contrast knob, and his picture faded out.

“Monitor 2 is on Harmony. Monitor 3 is on Jenny. You see the problem?”

He smiled. “They are both showing the same thing.”

“Which means?”

“That they’re together. So?”

“So? So I sent Jenny to bed over an hour ago, and I sent Harmony to go collect supplies for the disabling potion we’re going to use on Angel tomorrow night when we kill Cordelia. Why would she have Jenny with her?”

“Dunno.”

Lilah leaned forward and swatted a knob on her control panel. “Guard,” she barked.

A tall, uniformed man shuffled in. Lilah, with a brief glance at his nametag, addressed him with sugary-sweet gentleness.

“Andrew,” she purred. “You had watch tonight, didn’t you? Subject Jenny Calendar?”

He nodded.

“Anything unusual happen?”

“Ma’am. Subject awoke at 24.32 in apparent distress. As per your standing orders, I sent her to the lab for a treatment.”

“Must have run into Harm on the way,” mused Spike. He regarded the image on the monitor thoughtfully. “What’s that tube she’s playing with?”

“Hell if I know,” grumbled Lilah. “Hell if SHE knows…”

They turned away from the monitors to finish interrogating the guard, and so they didn’t notice Jenny finally catch Harmony with her back turned, and carefully remove a test tube of purplish powder from the pile of supplies that Harmony was accumulating. Working with such deftness and self-control that they wouldn’t even notice if they replayed their security tapes, she slyly replaced the stolen tube with the one she had been idly fingering in apparent cluelessness.

**

At the first glow of sunlight, Dawn woke up alone. She stretched languidly in the cold, sour bed, then lay still, listening with all the intent she could muster. Angel was home. She felt that without really understanding how, and she knew too that he was all right, and asleep. And Cordelia…she strained her hearing, all senses on alert, and padded downstairs on a hunch.

She found Cordelia in the garden, bathed peacefully in the first coppery sheen of daylight. Before, she had looked rattled. Now, she simply looked drained.

“Cordelia?”

Cordelia gave her a slight nod, and gestured to the garden with a sweeping arm. “This is MY secret place,” she said quietly.

Dawn nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know. Maybe not so beautiful as yours. Or so secret, either.”

But it WAS secret: daylight barred Angel from intruding on this oasis, and she could see now that Cordelia had been busy during her little retreat. As Dawn watched, Cordelia stuffed an ink-stained sheaf of papers into an envelope and addressed it to Angel with a flourish.

“I need you to do something for me,” said Cordelia quietly. She offered Dawn the envelope. “I need you to give that to Angel just before you leave today.”

“You…you won’t be here?”

Cordelia shook her head. “It’s been a rough night,” she said. “I need some time…I don’t want to be here when he reads this.”

“Is it…”

“Uh huh. He’ll come after me,” she admitted. “But I’ll have had a few hours by then. To calm down. To recharge…”

“Oh.”

Cordelia smiled. “Don’t look so scared,” she said gently. “I know what I’m doing here, and believe it or not, I’m feeling really good right now. I can’t face telling him in person, but this…this is a start, isn’t it? It’s something…”

Dawn nodded, swallowing hard. “Uh huh…”

Cordelia finally clued in. “You’ve been gearing up for your own something, haven’t you?”

She trembled. “I don’t wanna go home.”

“I know.”

“It’s gonna be hard. I might make things worse when I tell them what I’m afraid of. I might not get what I want, in the end. None of us might.”

“I know.”

“But…I have to do it, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Cordelia’s face was thoughtful. “Because you belong to them,” she finally concluded. “We…we don’t have any treehouses here.”

**

Lilah ran through the final checklist with efficient briskness.

“You’re sure you got everything?”

Harmony nodded.

“You weren’t distracted? I understand that Jenny…”

“She was fine,” said Harmony. “I got my spell ingredients, and she just sat there, playing with some empty test tubes. Should she even be this clueless? I mean, I thought she was supposed to be our big gun, and she hasn’t even…”

“She’s still working off the side effects of the raising,” said Lilah.

“But shouldn’t that be done by now?”

“It’s a raising,” hissed Lilah. “A very complicated magical procedure. There are MANY variables that can effect the…”

“Fine, fine,” said Harmony, bored. “Can we go now? I can’t wait to…”

“In a minute,” said Lilah. “Just double checking…if we have any ingredients wrong, it could affect the way the potion works. If Angel shows up, we want to knock him unconscious, not turn him into a frog or something.”

“Or we could just kill him,” suggested Harmony.

“No, we can’t,” said Lilah. “Because we might need him later. He’s from the master’s bloodline, and you never know when some of his blood could come in handy. We need him alive, but out of it.”

“So, this potion…”

“It’s ready,” decided Lilah. She set aside a test tube filled with shiny purple powder. “At the last minute, we add this, and if all goes well…he’s out.” She turned to Jenny with a devious smirk. “Should we bring you with us? A spell of this magnitude might just be enough to jolt you back into the swing of things…”

**

Buffy blustered into the Hyperion, eyes jumpy.

“Is she okay? Angel? Dawn?”

Dawn popped up from behind the front desk. “Hi Buffy.”

Buffy sagged slightly, leaning on Giles. “Thank god. Get your stuff, Dawn. We’re leaving.”

Dawn’s resolve instantly melted into annoyance. “What do you mean, get my stuff? That’s it?”

“Well, what did you want to do?”

“We’re not gonna talk about this?”

“We can talk in the car, Dawn. It’s almost sundown, and I want to get back in time to patrol…”

“I don’t want to talk in the car,” said Dawn. “I want to talk here, where I have my friends to back me up.”

“Back you up? This isn’t…this isn’t about them, Dawn. It’s about you and me, and Giles. Why would they…”

“So you get to yell at me with Giles holding your hand and I don’t get anybody, is that it?”

Buffy sighed. “Dawn…”

“What? Patrol is more important than spending an extra five minutes trying to see my point of view for once?”

Buffy bristled. “Patrol IS important, but…” She sighed. “All right, Dawn, let’s talk.”

“Fine.”

“Fine. So what did you want to say?”

Dawn frowned. “What kind of lame-ass opening is that? This is hopeless,” she whined. “Like you even care…”

Buffy softened. “I…I do care, Dawn, I’m sorry, I’m just not used to…look, I don’t know what to do, okay? I’ve tried…I’ve really tried to make things easy for you. And Giles has too, Dawn, he really has. And you’ve made it so…so hard on him. Is he…is it really so bad?”

“Buffy…”

“No, I want to know this,” she said, getting quietly angry again. “He’s been there for us. He’s been my mentor, my friend, my lover…and he has never, ever held back with you…”

Dawn’s lower lip trembled, and she looked helplessly at Angel, then back at Buffy.

“…and you’ve been nothing but a brat, while he’s been like…”

“Don’t say it,” breathed Dawn.

“…like a father to you.”

Dawn finally exploded. “Fathers leave!”

The room fell silent. “That’s the problem?” said Buffy gently. “Fathers leave?”

She broke down openly, collapsing into her sister’s arms. “You can’t promise me,” she sobbed. “You can’t promise me he won’t.”

Buffy brushed the hair gently out of Dawn’s eyes. “I know I can’t,” she said softly. “And I also can’t promise you that the hellmouth won’t crack open and swallow us all into a fiery pit of certain death. But I can promise you that I’ll be there when we hear the first rumblings, and I’ll fight like heck to stay in control of things.”

Dawn sniffled. “That’s a metaphor, isn’t it?”

Buffy exhaled.

**

Angel tore open the envelope and let the pages fall into his hand.

<Dear Angel,> he read.

<This is a long story, and I’m not quite sure how to start, so I’ll begin, as Giles suggested, with ‘I was young and naïve, and there was this boy…>

He was out the door minutes later, head spinning, heart breaking, driving recklessly with all the furious determination of his love.

He was half a block from her apartment when he saw the smoke, and he abandoned the car and took off running. He saw brief flashes of familiar faces: Lilah, and Harmony, and someone he couldn’t quite make out, a phantom, wandering in and out of his view, drifting aimlessly away from them as Lilah’s attention wandered…wandered to him. He lost sight of his phantom. He thought he saw her talking to some paramedics, before she wandered out of his vision. He thought he saw Lilah pull two vials out of her bag and mix them together, dropping them at his feet before she tugged on Harmony’s arm and vanished, taking his phantom with them. In his last coherent moment before his brain went fuzzy, he saw the paramedics drag Cordelia out of the building, unconscious, but alive.

**

6: Simple Gifts

They had been arguing for the last ten miles, and Giles had finally laid down the law and demanded silence, so that he could concentrate on the road. He was sorry now. Buffy sulked morosely in the front seat beside him, radiating misery from every pore. Some of it was at Dawn, of course, but some of it was at him. He suspected he had not done his boyfriendly duty in some pivotal way during her confrontation with her sister, and damned if he could figure out what he could have said. Dawn had a legitimate complaint, after all, and he felt that his recognition of that fact was an important first step in trying to understand his strange, unpredictable…what was Dawn, exactly? Stepdaughter? Sister-in-law? Damned if he could get his head around it, and lord help him, he had far too much on his mind right now to try and figure out something so trivial as a label…

“Damn it, Dawn, stop fidgeting,” sniped Buffy impatiently.

“Sorry,” said Dawn from the backseat. “Excuse me for caring about other people, unlike some of us.”

“Dawn, I already apologized for…”

“Not me, doofus. Look, I’m telling you, we have to go back there, something bad is up. We…”

“What? We want to get in the middle of Angel and Cordelia and their many relationship problems? Like we don’t have enough of our own? What is it this time, the curse thing again?”

“Lorne said that wouldn’t be a problem for long,” said Dawn. “And anyway, I don’t think so. This felt different. Buffy, you weren’t there. You didn’t see…something’s bugging her, big-time. I have a bad feeling, and…”

Giles’ hand tightened nervously on the steering wheel, and he tried desperately to tune them out. Eye on the road, old chap. Eye on the road…

“Right. Cordelia’s so pleasant when something’s bothering her. Let’s just turn right around and…”

Dawn fidgeted again. “That’s not what I meant. Just…can I have the cell phone, at least? Make sure she’s…”

Buffy rooted through her backpack with a put-upon sigh, and was too aggrieved to even notice Giles lock eyes with Dawn in understanding, then subtly turn the car around.

**

A strange, soft face beamed down at Angel benignly.

“Feeling better?”

He blinked at her, and struggled to focus. “What…who…”

“You’re in a hospital,” she explained. “My name is Sarah, I’m a nurse, and I’ve been taking care of you.”

He nodded, confused. “That’s…good.”

“We have your friend in recovery,” she said softly. “Treated her for some smoke inhalation, anemia from the blood loss…”

He struggled to clear the fuzz off his brain, as this seemed important.

“Blood…”

“Gash on her forehead,” Sarah explained. “We think she banged her head on something when she passed out. She was pretty weak when they brought her in, but she perked up some after the transfusion…”

His brain had cleared off enough that the mention of blood sent his insides spiking with thirsty hunger. He still felt fuzzy. He still felt confused, and far weaker than he should be feeling…but he was feeling, and that was progress.

“Cordelia…” he croaked.

“You can see her in a bit,” she said. “Just want to make sure you’re all right. Thought you’d pass out on us for awhile, but you held on like a trouper.” She regarded him somberly. “There’s no shame, you know. If you do want to sleep…you aren’t the first to ever get a little loopy after giving blood.”

He blinked, trying hard to concentrate over the lingering spaciness, and insistent roar of bloodlust.

“I…what?”

She regarded him quizzically. “You really don’t remember? Your friend…well, time was short, the blood bank was clean out, and you tested universal donor…”

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his agonizing hunger for long enough to make sense of this. “You gave my blood…to Cordelia?”

The nurse smiled hopefully. “She should wake up soon.”

“Is her heart beating?” He was on his feet in an instant, restored to alertness by a panicked burst of adrenaline. “Is it?”

The nurse, Sarah, took a nervous step backwards. “She should wake up soon,” she repeated.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, fighting back the rising tide of panic. They had given her his blood, and she had been weak. If her heart had stopped beating…even for a second…

“Phone,” he growled.

She pointed to the bedside table, already backing out of his room with a nervous tremble. He felt momentarily guilty about scaring her before he remembered he had more important things to worry about.

“Giles?” He had to shout to get through the static of the man’s fussy cell phone connection. “Turn back. I need you. She needs you.” He growled out what details he could---where he was, what had happened…

He turned over the receiver to hang it up, then put it to his head and off-handedly added “Bring blood. I’m hungry.”

**

Lorne held the phone away from his head and winced as his almost-girlfriend yelled shrilly into his ear.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Cordelia,” said Kate impatiently. “She’s my friend too, you know, and I really don’t appreciate being the last to…”

He frowned again. “What?”

“Heard this morning from a buddy at the LAPD,” she said. “He thought I’d be interested in the crime scene report on a suspected arson of an apartment building in Silverlake.”

“Oh,” he said. “That.”

“Uh huh. That. Lucky for me this buddy of mine recognized Cordelia’s name on the victim list and remembered we were friends, unlike some people…”

He sighed, rubbing his horn in annoyance. “Please don’t shout at me, Katie, I am so not in the mood. Look, I just found out about it myself, and not through the usual channels either. Now, did you really want to get all huffy, or did you want to maybe slow down for a minute and share information?”

There was a slight pause. “All right,” she said.

“Me first,” he said wearily. “And I really don’t have very much at this point. Just that she’s alive, and that she’s being watched very carefully.”

“Watched by who?”

“Do you really want me to spell it out for you?”

She groaned. “One of those things, is it? Fine, don’t spell it out for me. What else?”

He hesitated. “Rumour has it…and remember, Katie, this is ONLY rumour…that Wolfram and Hart is involved. And that it isn’t that building they were trying to ruin.”

Kate exhaled slowly. “God. Poor Cordelia.”

“Uh huh. She’s at St. Matthew’s, if you want to call, but Katie, she’s in good hands, really. Wes and Gunn are on their way over, and Angel’s already there with Buffy and…”

“Buffy? Sunnydale Buffy? Already?”

“Well, it’s not like she wasn’t already in town, Kate.”

“Oh, really? What on earth was she doing in Los Angeles?”

Here it comes, thought Lorne. He took a deep breath. “Picking up her sister.”

“WHAT? You’re telling me DAWN is in Los Angeles too?”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Why?”

He hesitated. “Look, this really isn’t the time for this.”

“That’s just the problem,” fumed Kate. “It’s never the time. That poor girl’s whole problem is getting pushed aside because it’s never a good time to…”

“Katie? This REALLY isn’t a good time.”

“Isn’t it? She should be at home, doing kid stuff, Lorne, not tagging along to the hospital with her distracted older sister.”

He sighed. “She’s not at the hospital with Buffy, Kate.”

“Really.”

He took a deep breath. “She’s here with me.”

Kate went silent. “Oh.”

“She actually would rather be at the hospital,” commented Lorne. “She and Cordelia are tight. But there wasn’t a whole lot of time to discuss it, if you know what I mean. They stayed here long enough to drop off Dawn and make a few phone calls, and that was pretty much it.” He headed off further criticisms with a curt “She’s playing video games in my apartment, safe and sound and far away from the alcohol and demon entrails.”

“Oh,” Kate repeated, unsure of what to make of this new development.

“Now, what have you got?” he said.

“Neighbour called in the 911. Officer on scene took standard witness statements, nothing jumped out at him. But he did note, almost as an aside, that there were some unusual smells on scene. It’s why he tagged it as arson.”

“Interesting.”

“Uh huh. And just the sort of interesting that started getting ME in trouble way back when. Leave it alone, Lorne.”

“Katie!”

“What? I hear that glint in your voice, and I know that you sometimes come across information. But trust me when I tell you that mixing magic and law enforcement never works out---for either side. My advice? Let the men in blue draw their own conclusions, and leave the supernatural detective crap to Angel.”

“Advice noted.”

“And obeyed?”

“Let’s leave it at noted.”

**

When Angel was finally released into the waiting room, Buffy and Giles were waiting for him.

“Angel!”

Buffy flew into his arms and embraced him. “I’m so sorry. Is she…”

“Sleeping,” he said dully. “They won’t let me…”

He eyed the paper bag in Giles’ hand with greedy anticipation.

“Oh, sorry,” said Giles. “Here you go. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long…we had a few stops to make…” He held out the bag as apparent proof, and Angel snatched it eagerly, ripping the wrapper off a jar of blood.

Giles watched him warily. “Did they…did they take that much out of you?” he asked.

“I don’t remember,” said Angel. “I didn’t…I mean, I was awake, but it was all…”

It was all fuzzy. But he hadn’t woken up in the morgue, so he must have remained conscious enough to avoid arousing undue concern. They had chalked up his spaciness to side effects of giving blood…

“So what happened?” asked Buffy.

Giles sniffed Angel’s clothing thoughtfully. “You’ve definitely been hit with something magical,” he said. “Eye of newt, wolfsbane…smells like someone was putting together a powerful knockout spell.”

“But he wasn’t knocked out,” observed Buffy.

“No. Unless…the final ingredient in a spell of this type would have to be Calynthia powder. Even a vampire would be affected. But here…” He sniffed again, and fingered the edge of Angel’s sleeve. “Looks like somebody substituted Marala powder at the last moment.”

“Of course,” said Buffy dryly. “Cause everyone confuses those.”

“Well, they are both purple,” said Giles. “And sarcasm accomplishes nothing, Buffy.”

“Sorry.”

“Quite all right. Well, this is a puzzle, isn’t it? Marala powder doesn’t knock you out, but it does sort of…stun you a little. Why would anyone go to all the trouble to make a potion, if all they wanted to do was…”

They all realized it at the same moment: that someone DID want to go all the way. And that somehow, it had gone wrong---accidentally, or on purpose? He had seen Lilah and Harmony at Cordelia’s apartment, and Harmony was certainly stupid enough to confuse one purple powder with another. But Lilah…

“Giles, I saw someone there,” Angel realized. “Lilah and Harmony, and…someone. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite…”

More conundrums. Giles sighed. “One thing at a time, Angel. Let’s get Cordelia squared away before we go any further. She might have seen something, before she…let’s get her squared away.”

**

The tall, dark man stood over Cordelia’s bed, eyes wandering methodically back and forth from the monitors, to her chart, to her still, sleeping form. He took in the crowd of visitors with calm appraisal.

“Ah,” he said. “You’re here. Right then.”

Angel glared suspiciously. “And you are…”

“Sam Zabuto, Watcher’s Council,” he introduced. “I was summoned here by…ah, Rupert, there you are. Good to see you, old chap.”

“Sam.”

He eyed Buffy curiously. “And this would be your slayer, would it? I’ve read descriptions, of course, but I’ve never had the…”

“Buffy Summers,” said Giles stiffly. “Sam Zabuto. So. Can you tell us anything?”

“Right, right, down to business straight away, understandable under the circumstances. Right, then. Well, the good news is she’s not a vampire.”

Angel unclenched a single fist.

“Number one,” said Sam briskly. “He never drank her blood, and that’s a necessary part of the process. When his blood goes into her, it has to already be bonded with her own in order to effect the transformation.”

He paced he room briskly, warming to his topic. “Number two,” he continued. “Her heart never stopped. It slowed down a few times, and rather alarmingly, I might add. It also spiked a few times…she might be dreaming, I don’t know…but it never stopped completely, which would also be necessary for the transformation.”

He folded his arms placidly. “And number three,” he said. “I’ve been running some experiments…” He withdrew a small cross pendant from his pocket and pressed it to her skin. It did not leave a mark.

“So she’s okay then,” said Angel.

He shrugged. “Not necessarily. There’s a lot we won’t know until she wakes up, Angel. This sort of situation has never been documented. Her heart rate DID slow. And you both are---well, there are a lot of magical variables at work here. Your vampire nature, your curse, which was wrought by powerful, ancient magic---and her direct link to the powers-that-be on top of that…at best, your blood will pass right through her and she will be unchanged. At worst…well, at worst, we’d be looking at some kind of fusion.”

“Fusion?”

Sam shrugged. “Could manifest any number of ways, not all of them bad. Might up her strength some, or heighten her senses…” He shrugged. “Perhaps she might simply sunburn more easily.”

Angel glowered unhappily, and Sam sighed. “Look, this is a special case, you understand? In someone like me, your blood would have no effect. But in someone like her…well, we really won’t know anything until she wakes up. We’ll be keeping an eye on her, don’t you worry. Rupert, I trust I can count on you?”

Giles nodded, and Sam smiled as if he had expected no less. “Splendid. You’re welcome to stay with her, Angel, as are you, Buffy…or whomever, really, I don’t care. But I should like to have a watcher on shift at all times, in case there are…complications. Well, Rupert, with you on board, there’s three then, and…”

“Three?” said Buffy. “Who…”

“Oh, my trainee,” said Sam. “Where did she…oh, there you are,” he said. They followed his gaze to the door of Cordelia’s room, where the new arrival hesitated, a tray of Styrofoam coffee cups perched delicately in her hand.

“My trainee,” introduced Sam with a flourish. “Ms Fiona Wyndam-Pryce.”

**

Dawn sat on a barstool, swinging her legs in frenzied beat to her angry shouting.

“But I want to go, Lorne. I WANT to!”

He rubbed his horn absently, his weariness evident. “I know, munchkin, I know. But really, my hands are tied on this. Buffy said…”

“Screw Buffy! Cordelia is my friend, and she’s in the hospital and I want to go see her!”

Lorne eyed the barstool beside her, unsure if he had the energy to remain upright on it. With a sigh, he plunked himself down on the simpler chair.

“Ground rules,” he said briskly. “And no arguments, sweetie. These remain in effect for as long as you’re camping out with Uncle Lorne, capiche?”

She furrowed her lower lip, suspicious. “Maybe.”

“Close enough. Now, number one, on the Buffy thing: this is one of those times when you remember that this is hard on her too, you understand? You might find this hard to believe…heck, I still find it hard to believe…but she really is Cordelia’s friend now too. And believe it or not, she’s YOUR friend, and I completely understand why she’d rather have you here right now.”

“But Lorne, I…”

“Number two,” he continued. “I want to see Cordelia too. But from what Angel says, there isn’t really a whole lot to see. She’s still unconscious.”

“But…”

“Number three,” he said. “While it may be true that, for reasons beyond MY understanding, unconscious people are permitted visitors…they, like all other hospital patients, may only have two at a time. And right now, we’ve got Giles and your sister, and Angel on top of things, with Wesley and Gunn on their way and apparently some cavalry to boot…”

“What kind of cavalry?”

He sighed. “Look, I can’t tell you much. I don’t KNOW much. But something’s going on somewhere, and somebody called in the big guns.”

“And the big guns are…”

“People that you and me and any sane person would want to stay far, far away from.”

“This isn’t making a whole lot of sense, Lorne.”

“I know. Which is why it’s good that we’re talking about this BEFORE Kate gets here. She hates this stuff.”

“Kate? OUR Kate?”

“Well, she was our Kate first, you know. And believe it or not, she is yet another person who happens to be friends with Cordelia.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “And Angel won’t leave Cordelia’s side. And Buffy won’t leave Angel’s side. Fun will be had by all.”

“That’s what I said. Funny thing, she didn’t listen, and she’s on her way to Los Angeles as we speak. Look, kiddo, I can trust you to behave around Kate, can’t I?”

“What…what do you mean?”

“Just that she’s still a little bit sensitive about certain things. So we won’t want to mention any of them while she’s here.”

“Okay…what things?”

“Well, vampires, for one. And Slime demons, chaos demons…well, demons in general, I think. Actually, the entire non-human-non-kitty-cat genus of lifeform. Horns, fangs, tentacles, scales, claws, probosci, slime tubules, and of course, the slime itself, and any related pustules or secretions. Oh, Hellmouths. And Buffy and Angel and Giles.”

“Great,” said Dawn. “My whole world. So what CAN we talk about?”

“Well, the Lakers. Imported beer. Art deco. Jazzercise. That lovely weather we’ve been having…”

Dawn stared at him blankly, open-mouthed with shock. “And you’re dating this chick?”

**

Sam Zabuto worked fast, taking advantage of the fact that his audience was thoroughly stunned from the double-whammy of his news and his messenger. Bristling to Cordelia’s bedside, he gave her charts and monitors a cursory glance before pounding on the call button. A nurse appeared moments later.

“Ah yes,” he said. “Good evening…” he squinted at her nametag. “Sarah.”

She stared at him blankly. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem at all, just letting you know that my aide and I will be taking over Ms Chase’s care from this point onward. You’ll inform Dr. Carlyle that she’s been transferred to our authority?”

She hesitated. “I don’t…this has never…I mean, we don’t just swap patients here without…”

He patted her arm condescendingly. “I know, I know. But look here, Sarah. Do you know what this is?” He held out a thick manila folder. “It’s paperwork. And it’s all in order.”

She opened the envelope with trembling fingers. “Okay…”

He smiled reassuringly. “Come now, it’s all in order. You aren’t…” He watched her for a moment, than realized that it wasn’t him she was afraid of. She read the papers carefully, lips moving faintly, sneaking occasional worried glances…at Angel…

“There, there,” he said. “She’s my patient now, Sarah. You won’t have to worry about HIM anymore.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Zabuto. I’ll inform Dr Carlyle that he’s relieved. And you’ll let us know if you need any…supplies? We’re all…we’re all a team here, and that means…”

“I understand. Thank you, Sarah.”

She nodded, biting her lip, and slowly backed out of the door. The gang had recovered by now, and Buffy cocked a thumb at the retreating nurse.

“So, what did you do, hypnotize her or something?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Are you a doctor, even?”

“Of course.”

“In England?”

“Well, obviously…”

“And they’re just gonna let you charge into an American hospital and take things over?”

“There are channels one must go through, of course. But such technicalities are not beyond the abilities of the Watcher’s Council.”

She nodded, as if she expected this. Then she regarded his companion thoughtfully.

“He said Wyndam-Pryce, didn’t he?”

The girl nodded warily.

“So that would make Wesley Wyndam-Pryce your…”

“Black sheep.” Her mouth curled into a smile as she moved out of Cordelia’s doorway. Gunn was first in, and he blocked the view enough that Wesley didn’t see Fiona until he was practically in her face.

“Fiona?”

“Hello Wesley.”

“What are you…doing here?”

“Official Watcher’s Council business. Unlike SOME people.” She looked him up and down. “Daddy said you were freelance now, but he didn’t say you’d lost weight and let your hair grow out. You look awful.”

He sighed. “I love you too?”

“Oh, don’t start. Daddy says sarcasm is your absolute most disagreeable trait, and I must say, I concur. Look, Wesley, this field rotation is the last one I have to complete before I earn official watcher status. Be a good brother and try not to ruin it for me, okay?” She sighed. “Look, I understand that our patient here is your friend, and I’ll respect that, really. You do what you need to do, I’ll do what I need to do, and let’s keep our issues out of it, shall we?”

He nodded unhappily. “Agreed,” he said. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since I got here.”

“Oh, come on…”

She brushed past him, heading for her boss, who was deep in conversation with Giles. She spared her brother neither second glance nor hug as she passed him.

The room choked in awkward silence. Buffy was the first to break. “Well, that was fun,” she said. “Look you guys must have a lot to catch up on. You and you,” she pointed at Giles and Sam. “Watcher stuff. And you and you,” she pointed at Wesley and Fiona. “Family stuff. And you and you and you,” she pointed at Angel and Cordelia, and Gunn. “Well, I don’t think any of you are really paying attention right now, so I’m not even gonna bother. I need some air,” she finished. “I’ll be in the lounge if you need me.”

**

It was a subdued group that reassembled, in awkward little coffee klatch cliques around the frozen hospital bed. Wesley, glaring daggers at his sister, gathered with Gunn and allowed the unwelcome Watchers to update them on Cordelia’s condition: the mysterious fire, the neighbor who called 911, the magical residue on Angel’s clothes…and the significant medical intervention that was working a different magic as they spoke…

“Why isn’t she waking up?” he whispered.

“Any number of reasons,” offered Sam off-handedly. “Could be shock, or brain damage, or any sort of trauma that hasn’t shown up in the x-rays…that fusion, of course…we’ve no idea what her body is doing to itself right now, what processes are underway…” He shrugged. “Or she could be simply tired. Hard to say.”

Angel couldn’t stand to listen to all of this again, and within minutes of Wesley and Gunn’s arrival, he pulled Giles aside.

“I’m so sorry, Angel,” began Giles awkwardly. “If there’s anything…”

“Something’s wrong,” Angel interrupted.

Giles blinked. “Well, obviously.”

“No, not that,” said Angel. “I mean, that too, but…Giles, with her, I mean before the…” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a tattered smattering of papers.

“This morning,” he explained. “I know it seems so long ago, after everything that’s…Giles, before you and Buffy left with Dawn, she gave me this envelope, said Cordelia had asked her to leave it for me…”

Giles eyed the letter warily, feeling his chest tighten. “Angel, if she…perhaps I shouldn’t…”

“You already know about this,” Angel insisted. “Lorne said…he said she had confided in you. And this…” He pushed the papers at Giles insistently. “She was trying to confide in me. This was…this was her, trying to…Giles, we never had a chance to talk about it. By the time I got to her, she was…” He motioned meekly at the figure on the bed.

Giles sighed wearily. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“I don’t know how much she told you,” said Angel. “I…”

“I shouldn’t say,” Giles interrupted. “It’s her place to tell you, Angel, not mine.”

“I know. And I’m not asking you to break her confidence, Giles. But I just need to know that she was okay. Someone hurt her, and she was dealing with it, and…and she talked to you, didn’t she? So did it…did it help? Was she…”

“Angel…”

“She might not wake up,” said Angel urgently. “And if we never have a chance to talk about this…I need to know that she was okay…”

Giles took a deep breath. “She was okay,” he lied. “She talked to me, and it helped. And she was okay.”

**

Kate threw her arms around Lorne’s scaly green shoulders.

“Lorne! I missed you!” she gushed, chastely kissing his cheek.

He blinked in surprise. “You did?”

Instantly, her guard went up. “Of course. Why would you…” Then, she spied Dawn and withdrew her arms. “We shouldn’t be talking like this in front of kids,” she decided.

“Hi, not a kid,” greeted Dawn.

Kate gave Dawn a winsome smile. “Oh, sweetie…of course you are! I know it might feel like you have lots of very adult problems to deal with sometimes, but that doesn’t mean…”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I am fifteen,” she said flatly. “Not a kid. You know, in some countries, I’d be old enough to have my own kid by now. Really.”

“Dawn…”

“And even in this country, I could get married. If my parent or guardian signed a consent form, true, but still, I could if I wanted to.”

“Dawn…” attempted Kate again.

“I mean, it’s not like the way we do things here is the only way people can do things,” continued Dawn, getting into it. “Lorne says in his home dimension, I’d already be legal drinking age.”

Kate narrowed her eyes at Lorne. “Really.”

“Well, we don’t actually HAVE a drinking age,” he meekly clarified. “On account of not really having any…well, laws…”

“Wonderful,” said Kate. “And you told her this because…”

“Well, she was upset that Buffy wouldn’t let her sit with them at the hospital, and we were kind of talking about…stuff. I was trying to cheer her up.”

Kate shook her head. “And you thought THAT was the way to do it?” She turned to Dawn with a sickly sweet smile. “Hey, kiddo, how’d you like some ice cream? Any flavour you want. Sprinkles, even…”

Dawn stared at Kate for a moment, then seethed “You are SO lame!” and stormed away.

Lorne gave Kate a moment to recover. “So,” he said breezily. “How was the drive?”

**

Giles sat down quietly beside Buffy, shifting delicately on the hard plastic of the waiting room chairs and holding out his hand to display a fistful of chocolate bars. After a moment’s hesitation, she took one and unwrapped it with trembling fingers.

“Are you all right?” he said.

She nibbled on the candy, shifting her eyes evasively. “Guess so. Just…hospitals wig me out, Giles. They always have.”

“I know.”

“And…” She looked away again, half-wanting his comfort, half-embarrassed that she needed it. “And…the last time I was in a hospital was when my mother died.”

She looked at him, shiny-eyed, anticipating. But to her surprise, he shook off the fleeting puppy-dog eyes of sympathy and smiled ruefully. “I know the feeling.”

“You…oh, Giles, I know you and Mom were friends, but…”

“That’s not it,” he said lightly. “Just…Buffy, last time I was in a hospital was when MY mother died.”

Her eyes widened. “Giles?”

“How I spent my summer vacation,” he sighed. “I was back in England for awhile, after you…” He hesitated. “I know,” he admitted. “Rather insensitive of me to be playing that card on you now, isn’t it? But…well, I suppose we’ve been needing to have this chat for awhile, haven’t we?”

“Which chat?”

He smiled. “Good question. Well, there’s the ‘Giles has his problems too, you know’ chat on the one hand, and the ‘Giles has a past you know little about’ chat on the other. Where would you like to start?”

She tensed away from him, looking confused. “Are you…in a bad mood or something?”

He sighed. “What would you like me to say? I’m tired, Buffy. I’ve spent the last few days dealing with more than just your problems, and…”

“MY problems? Dawn is your concern too, and not just cause I’m….”

“You’re in my life,” he said wearily. “And I’m happy for that, I truly am. But Buffy, you are not the only person in my life.”

She nodded guiltily, realization dawning. “Cordelia.”

“She’s not the only person in my life either.”

She put a tentative arm around him. “Okay. So are you gonna just drop hints all morning, or do you want to talk about it?”

“Drop hints?”

“Nice try. But before my clueless insensitivity got you all sidetracked, you were gonna tell me about how everyone always comes to you because you’re the grown-up, but sometimes you’re just as clueless as we are. Cause you’re sort of still a kid in your heart. Or maybe we’re sort of grown-ups in ours. Or something.”

“Or something.”

“So I’m thinking this is one of those times I’m supposed to be rising to the occasion. You want to talk about your mom? Or mine? Or that friend of both of us who is lying unconscious in a hospital bed, and how scared and helpless that’s making you feel?”

He looked away, half-wanting her comfort, and half-embarrassed that he needed it.

**

Wesley banged the vending machine hard, first with his palm, and then with his forehead.

“Damn it,” he groaned. “Blasted thing…infernal piece of…”

“Now, now,” said a prim, grating voice. “I would show some respect for machines if I were you, since they’re what’s keeping your friend Cordelia alive right now.”

He frowned. “No they aren’t, Fiona. Ancient, mysterious magic is what’s keeping her alive. Although of course, she’s merely unconscious and she’s breathing on her own…”

She rolled her eyes. “So I exaggerated some. I needed an opening.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “For what?”

“To have a conversation with you? Daddy said you would be defensive, but I had no idea you would…look, Wesley, we haven’t seen each other in years and within five minutes we’re sniping at each other as if we were in grade school. Isn’t it a little tiresome? I mean, here you are, a…self-employed…well, whatever you are, and I’m a member of the elite and highly regarded Council of Watchers, engaged in a noble battle against the forces of darkness…”

“Your point?”

“My point is that we’ve both changed a lot since the last time we’ve seen each other, and some of us more for better than others. Can’t we just…start over?”

She saw a tinge of hurt in his eyes and glowered impatiently. “Oh, will you stop be such an oversensitive little…that was about me, not you, you dunce. Are you really…” She smirked deviously. “You’re not telling me Daddy was right about you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Come on,” she goaded softly. “Don’t you want to know what Daddy said about you?”

“Same things he’s always bloody said, I imagine. Look, Fiona, I’m really not…”

She shook her head. “That you would think I could be so gullible…I do have a brain of my own, you know, and Daddy says it’s quite a clever one. Do you really think the council would take me on if I were capable of harboring such a blind spot as HE has for you? Daddy’s right about many things, Wesley, but even he can’t convince me that what went wrong with you was entirely your fault.”

“What went…wrong with me?” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

She gave him a curious smile. “Fine, we can do it that way if you like. But isn’t that the sort of attitude that got you into trouble in the first place?”

“What would you know about that?”

“I went through the same Watcher training as you did, Wesley. Remember the VR scenarios? Simulations, probing the weak spots of the psyche. They used him in mine too, you know. And they used you. All sorts of scenarios…and the simulation? Well…it was very well-rounded, big brother. Very nuanced. I daresay there’s quite a bit about you that you might not realize they know.”

He stiffened. “They wouldn’t…that would be highly unethical, if they had…”

She shrugged. “Such technicalities are not beyond the ability of the Watcher’s Council.”

**

Buffy put down the phone and closed her eyes, taking a deep, centering breath.

“You get everything straightened out with Dawn?” said Giles.

“Well, if you count me caving and giving her what she wanted, then yeah, I got everything straightened out. Lorne’s bringing her over in about an hour. And, in his one wise action since taking her side against me, he’s ditching Kate en route.”

Giles smirked. “And how is he managing that?”

“Sending little-miss-detective to pump her buddy on the force for info. Guess that’s how she found about the whole thing in the first place…”

She sat down beside Giles, nuzzling her face into his shoulder.

“Hmmmm,” she sighed. “I shouldn’t be enjoying this.”

“What?”

“This, this…this cuddling, this quiet time. Is it awful that I am enjoying this?”

“Not entirely.” He let her settle, shifting his weight awkwardly as he tried to get comfortable.

“Perhaps this would be a good time to be having that conversation,” he said after a moment.

“Which one?”

“That ‘Giles has a past you know little about’ conversation we started earlier. We have this quiet time. Perhaps this is our chance to catch up on things…”

She regarded him thoughtfully. “All right,” she said. “So let’s talk. What did you want to tell me?”

He gave her a rueful smile. “Dawn is right. You do need to work on your openings. That was…”

“Yes?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “It’s not so easy…where does one start with something like this?”

She snuggled deeper, wrapping his arms around her. “Start with your mother,” she said. “Sounded like she was on your mind before. What was she like?”

He smiled. “She was a character, that’s for sure. She was like…do you remember how Cordelia was, in high school?”

“Vain and shallow and selfish and mean?”

“Indeed. Now imagine that she never grew up.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Your mother was a snotty little aristocrat!”

“That’s one way of putting it. Pampered, privileged, self-important---and such a waste, really. What she might have been…Buffy, she never had the chance to channel it the way Cordelia has.”

Buffy frowned. “How has Cordelia…”

“It can be helpful,” he mused. “To have that perspective, especially in our line of work…that entitled belief that problems are solvable and things will somehow work out…in the best cases, it can be a comfort. And in the worst…well, it can be a crutch that keeps you from ever really connecting with anyone.”

He shook his head. “I suppose it didn’t help my mother’s ego any that she married a watcher. She was never quite sure what he did, exactly, but it involved lots of secret meetings, and travel to exotic places, and late-night secret phone calls. Very high-class, if you didn’t know what was really going on.”

Buffy frowned. “But even Cordelia figured things out eventually. Are you saying your mother never…”

“A remarkable talent for burying her head in the sand,” he said stiffly. “Made it quite difficult to…to relate to her, on anything more than the most superficial level. I suppose that’s why I ran to London as soon as I could.”

“That Ripper thing?”

He fidgeted. “Perhaps I’ve shared enough for one go.”

She eyed him dubiously. “All right,” she said. “If that’s the way you feel…it’s just so strange, you know? To picture you, coming from someone like that. You’re so…not like that.”

He sighed. “Things happen, Buffy. Things happen, and they change people. In some ways, I am like her…finding talks like this rather difficult, for one thing. But in other ways…things happen. And they change people. And life goes on.”

Buffy closed her eyes, relaxing into his strong, safe arms. “Hmmm. So how did she…you know…”

“Die?” he said emotionlessly. “Like a grand old dame, exactly as she wanted to. By coincidence, I was in London at the time for some council debriefings. I’d seen my mother maybe one or twice for tea…perhaps she looked a little older, a little more tired, but that money she loved bought her top-notch help and allowed her to…” He trailed off.

“To what?” she prompted gently.

“Bury her head in the sand. Remarkable talent, really.”

“Oh.”

“She woke up one morning with her right arm completely frozen. Don’t worry about me, she said. Don’t want to make a fuss. Don’t want to see a doctor. It’ll pass, darling, it’ll pass…it was a stroke, Buffy. Three days later, she died peacefully in her sleep of a blood clot that might have shown up on a CAT scan if she hadn’t been so bloody stubborn and proud.”

“Oh, Giles, I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” he said mechanically, eyes oddly vacant. Buffy’s concern was a touching gesture, but he suspected both of them were sad for different reasons. Buffy didn’t have the maturity of years to understand the sorrow of wasted potential…did she?

It did not occur to him to pursue this line of thought further. He was tired, and he had done enough feeling for today.

**

She spent the icy lull in the conversation extracting a bobby pin from her hair and using it to jimmy open the back of the vending machine.

“Here you are,” she said, handing Wesley a candy bar with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Thank you.” His eyes shone with the faintest tinge of admiration. “Is that part of watcher training these days? How very…b-movie.”

“Oh, please. Girl’s got to have a hobby on the side, don’t you think?”

“And yours is…”

Fiona shrugged. “This and that.”

He nodded. “Does ‘Daddy’ know about this little skill of yours?”

“There are lots of things about my life that Daddy doesn’t know.”

He nodded, relaxing imperceptibly.

“That’s a horrible habit,” she told him. “The chocolate? If your skin is anything like mine…”

“I am nothing at all like you.”

“Touche. Look, I thought we were finally getting past that, Wesley. I never thought I’d be the one to be making the grand gestures and being the bigger person, but really…”

He sighed. “Very well,” he said. “For now.”

**

Wandering, Buffy found herself back at Angel’s side, watching him trace the veins on Cordelia’s arm with his finger.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey.”

“You okay?” she said.

“I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

She pulled up a chair and straddled it, almost close enough to touch him.

“I know,” she said. “I’ve been there too, remember?”

Angel flinched. Joyce Summers had not crossed his mind in the last few hours, and she should have.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She smiled gently. “But that’s not what you’re thinking about right now.”

He picked up Cordelia’s limp hand again, grazing the bones of her fingers.

“Just wondering…” he said. “What’s going on in there…that pulse, that…that heart, those veins…and all of them with MY blood running through them…”

“She’s strong, Angel. She’ll be alright.”

“And if she’s not?” He looked away. “We almost had it, didn’t we?”

“Don’t even go there,” she told him firmly. “She’ll be fine. She’ll be fine, and she’ll come home, and you’ll have whatever it is you have together. Life, such as it is, will go on.”

“It might be different. SHE might be different.”

“She already IS different, Angel. Did you really think…I mean, let’s face it, you may be in love, but you’re still not a shining example of the fine upstanding patriotic healthy normal American boy.”

He clenched his fists. “Buffy…”

“What? This is nothing you didn’t already know. I mean, we’ve talked about this way back when we were…” Then, she got it. “Ohhhhh. I see. I was already different when I met you, wasn’t I? And you feel guilty cause you think that she’s…what? That if it hadn’t been for you, she might have gotten away? That SHE might have had it?”

He clenched his fists around Cordelia’s delicate hand and nodded slightly.

“Oh, Angel…” Buffy finally got close enough to touch him. “Love really DOES make you blind, doesn’t it? This is NOT your fault, do you understand? Cordelia is…well, she made her own choices too, you know? And even before the evil lawyers came after you, she was never gonna be on the cover of Ladies Home Journal. She grew up on a Hellmouth, Angel. She kissed a demon and got stuck with the world’s ickiest STD. Not loving you was really going to make her normal?”

He hesitated. “So where does that leave us?”

“Same place you were at before this whole fusion thing. Two freaks trying to make the best of it.”

“Buffy!”

“Hey, I call it like I see it. And as past president of Freaks R Us, I know of which I speak.”

He cracked a tiny smile. “Past president? So who’s the current one?”

“Giles,” she said without hesitation. “For being dumb enough to fall in love with me.”

She let the silence overtake them, and she sat with him, watching. Neither saw the two faint shadows peeping through the tiny window on the door. After a moment, the larger shadow turned to his companion.

“Look at them,” he said, with more annoyance than disgust. “Aren’t they sweet?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Almost makes you want to leave them be, doesn’t it?”

“Almost.”

With an “oh well” sort of shrug, Sam Zabuto turned away from his post and peered down the hallway.

“Is that a vending machine I see at the end of the corridor? I think it is. Well, Fiona, you up for some coffee?”

She followed him without a word.

**

Hospitals made even Dawn Summers go quiet. The parking lot was a maze, the hallways were endless, and she was too overwhelmed to do anything but clasp Lorne’s hand and follow him.

“Lorne?”

“What, peanut?”

“You do think she’ll be okay, don’t you?”

He hesitated. “I hope she will.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

He paused, crouching down to her eye level. “Honey, I’m no medical expert, especially on animals as strangely built as humans. But I do know that she coughed down a lot of smoke, and when they brought her in, she was having trouble breathing. They took care of that.”

“So she’s better.”

“Yes, she is.”

“But she hasn’t woken up yet.”

“No, she hasn’t.”

He stopped at one of the doors and checked the room number against the one he had written down.

“Well, sweetie, are you ready?”

She gulped and pushed open the door, and there they were: huddled unhappily in little bunches and watching two ominous strangers poke and prod Cordelia’s still body.

All eyes turned to her, and she flicked a questioning nod at the strangers.

“Watchers,” explained Buffy.

“Evil ones?”

“Not so far.”

Dawn nodded. “Okay. Well, are they gonna move out of the way so I can see Cordelia?”

“We’re just finishing up,” said one of them. “If you give us a moment…”

The woman fiddled with a small blue crystal, carefully positioning it by Cordelia’s pillow, then moving aside as the man double-checked its placement.

“Good enough,” he said. To the others, he explained “We’re trying to track her astral energy, see what plane she’s on. Should be able to bring her back soon.”

“They’ve been trying to revive her,” explained Giles in a whisper. “Unsuccessfully, so far.”

“Why won’t she wake up?” asked Dawn.

“Not sure,” said Giles. “We haven’t talked about it much. It’s rather upsetting…”

Dawn followed his glance to Angel, clinging as close to the bed as the watchers would let him. “Okay,” she said. “I see your point. But will they…”

“All done,” boomed the male watcher. He finally spared Dawn a glance. “Oh the sister. Very well. Sam, Fiona…” He pointed absently at himself and his assistant in apparent introduction.

“Uh huh,” said Dawn. “Move.”

She gave him a moment’s head start, then barreled impatiently past him.

“Cordelia, oh my god,” she gushed. “I was so worried, and I wanted to come and they wouldn’t let me, and…” She took a deep breath, paused and willed herself to get a grip…

“Please wake up,” she said softly. She reached out a hand and gently brushed Cordelia’s cheek.

Everything froze. Where their skin touched, it glowed blue, tiny pinpricks of light seeping between Dawn’s fingers and snaking underneath Cordelia’s skin. It was profoundly silent, profoundly still, and for a blinding few seconds, profoundly peaceful. Then life resumed: the tapping of keys as Sam entered data onto his laptop computer, the messy slurps as Gunn drowned his worry in a Cherry coke, the clacking of Angel’s shoes as they paced back and forth, back and forth…and the rustle of fabric on fabric as Cordelia’s very conscious limbs stretched against the sheets of the hospital bed.

Dawn drew back her hand. “Cordelia?”

Cordelia rubbed her eyes, dazed. “What…happened?”

Angel lunged for the bed, embracing her hungrily. “It’s okay, Cordelia. I promise you, it’s going to be okay.”

“All right,” she said. “I…um…believe you? Angel, what’s going on here?”

“A very good question,” said Sam. He grabbed Dawn by the arm and hauled her away from the bed. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing! I just…I touched her, and she just woke up!”

He glowered suspiciously, and she pulled her arm away from him. “I didn’t do anything, I swear!”

It was then they noticed Lorne, eyes squinched shut as if he had been blinded, picking himself up off the floor.

“Yes, sweetums, you did.”

Her lip trembled. “Lorne?”

“Not on purpose,” he hastily clarified. “Just you being you is all.”

“What?” demanded Fiona. “What are you talking about?”

Lorne ignored the hovering watchers and spoke to Buffy directly. “Their auras,” he said. “When they touched…you saw it too, didn’t you?”

Buffy nodded. “The key…”

“The key?” squeaked Fiona. “As in THE key? The opens the doors between dimensions key?”

“Guess that’s not all she opens,” said Lorne. “Ummm…”

Sam stepped foreword commandingly and pushed Angel out of the way.

“I’ll take it from here,” he said briskly. “Now, Cordelia, please describe how you are feeling, as precisely as possible.”

She blinked, clasping stubbornly to Angel’s hand. “Confused, for starters. Who are you?”

“Sam Zabuto, Watcher’s Council.”

“Watchers?” She raised an eye at Angel. “They evil?”

“Not so far,” said Angel.

“Of course not!” said Sam. “Why does everyone keep assuming…” Buffy opened her mouth, and he shook his head. “Never mind, never mind. Now, Cordelia…”

Angel held up his hand. “Give me a minute?”

He sat down beside her again, with obvious relief on both their parts, and began to quietly explain things. Fiona, meanwhile, was studying Dawn with unabashed fascination.

“The key,” she gushed. “The actual key. I had heard stories, of course, and although it hadn’t been confirmed that it was you, we had our guesses…but to think that I’m actually having an opportunity…you’re really the key? Really?”

“So they tell me.”

“That’s…and you can open the doors between dimensions. And apparently…well, I don’t know what to call what you did just now, and I suspect it wouldn’t work on just any…I mean, between the lot of you, there’s quite enough magic floating around right now that it shouldn’t…Sam, you don’t suppose SHE’S part of the fusion somehow?”

“Per se? Highly unlikely. Keys CAN be used to unlock a door, but so can lock picks. We would have found our way in and brought Cordelia back sooner or later, Fiona. She just got us there more quickly.”

“Fascinating,” gushed Fiona. “This will DEFINITELY be part of the study, Sam.” She gave Dawn a beaming smile. “We can even put you in adjoining laboratories while we…”

“Buffy!”

“She’s kidding,” said Buffy. “You were kidding, right?”

“Not really. Look, this was hardly OUR idea. YOU called us in, slayer, and we can’t very well do any good unless we accumulate sufficient data to…”

“Wait a minute, what do you mean we called you in?”

“Well, not me specifically, per se, I’m only a trainee, after all, but I am attached to Sam right now, and when Ripper, I mean, Mr. Giles, had him sent, I naturally…”

A stunned Buffy elbowed Giles. “YOU called them in?”

He froze. Dear lord, not another confrontation…

“Giles?”

Too much, he mentally screamed. First, Cordelia. Then Buffy, then Dawn, then Angel…he was tired. He had too many unfinished conversations in his head right now, too much plaintive need from all of them…

[So you’ve had this talk with Buffy, then? Told her all your secrets?]

“Giles, answer me! Did you or did you not call in the…”

[You and me and Dawn…the perfect little Hellmouth family…]

“I mean, why would you…after all they’ve done to us…”

[Fathers leave! You can’t promise…]

He sank to the floor, finally reaching his breaking point. No more feelings. No more conversations. Not now, not today.

He sensed the subtle shift of air as Buffy’s anger turned to worry, then to distraction, as Angel apparently reached the end of his explanation, and a horrified Cordelia shrieked ‘Blood?’ Then he shut off.

“I need to talk to Angel,” said Cordelia, voice shaking. “Alone.”

“Giles…the watchers…”

“In the hall,” said Cordelia. “All of you. Now. I need to talk to Angel. Alone.”

No more, thought Giles. Not now, not today. Enough.

**

Angel froze. The room was blissfully empty: he finally had a clear path to Cordelia, and he had the space---the ominous, silent space---to really, really talk to her. But his head was still spinning from the triple shock of the last day and a half---the fit, then the fire, then the fusion, spinning and spinning and spinning…

Cordelia watched impassively as he stumbled to her bed and plopped down beside her, obviously dazed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said quietly. “I was planning to take the lead here anyway.”

He relaxed visibly. “You were?”

“Of course, you big goof. Why do you think I got rid of them all?”

“Cordelia…”

“I know, I know, big scare, very worried, many consequences, blah blah blah. But before that, I still owed you a serious conversation, didn’t I?”

She flicked her eyes to the tiny corner of envelope sticking out of his coat pocket. He lowered his gaze.

“Oh no,” said Cordelia. “You are so not wimping out on this one, Angel.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Just…we’ve got a lot going on right now, and…”

“So? I’m scared, Angel. This fusion thing sounds way intense, and I don’t need to be going into THAT still freaking out about THIS. We are having this conversation, and we’re having it now.”

To his surprise, he felt a painful swell of anger. “It’s that simple, is it? One conversation, and it’s all resolved? If that really worked, this should have ended with Giles, three days ago!”

Her voice wobbled. “But that was…you’re trying to make that into something?”

“It IS something,” he said. “Cordelia, if it wasn’t, you would have been able
to talk about this---with either of us---face to face, instead of hiding behind a phone call or a letter!”

“So you’re mad at me,” she pouted. “How can you…God, Angel, don’t you see how hard I’m trying here?”

“But you’re always trying,” he said. “Trying so hard to be okay that you drive yourself crazy sometimes. Stop trying,” he said. “Let go. Just---throw away the barriers for once in your life and FEEL it, Cordelia. Feel everything. For better or worse, just let it out!”

“I can’t do it like that,” she said. “Angel, I can’t…”

“I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry. I CAN do that, and I have done it, and sometimes, that’s hurt people…”

“Darla,” she realized. “That’s why you fired us last year, isn’t it? Getting us out of the way so that no one would see you go mental…”

“And do you know what I learned? That going mental and letting go are not the same thing after all. That you can let yourself feel something without going crazy. THAT was my epiphany, Cordelia.”

“I can’t do it,” she said again.

“So start smaller.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Talk to me, Cordy. Tell me what happened.”

She reached over and fingered the corner of the envelope. “You know what happened.”

“So do you. I still want to hear you say it.”

“Angel…”

“You owe me a serious conversation,” he said. “And that means you have to talk to me. Say it, Cor.”

“It was a long time ago. It’s over now.”

“Say it.”

“It’s over, Angel. I ran into his sister at the open house, and it freaked me out a little, but it’s over.”

“Say it.”

“Somebody hurt me, and…”

“Not just hurt. Say it, Cordelia.”

Furious, anguished tears slid down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes. “Angel…”

“Say it.”

**

“Stick with me, little munchkin,” Lorne whispered, pulling Dawn aside.

“Why?” she said irritably. “You’re not going whacko too?”

“Well, I’m not,” said Lorne, surveying the crowd as they pouted from their unceremonious eviction into the hallway. “But that’s not why. Look, let’s just say that the little door you opened for Cordelia is not the only one you can open.”

“WHAT????”

“Quiet,” he hissed, pulling her away. “Unless you want Jekyll-and-lied over there to hear you? Look, all I mean is normally, I need those guys to open up to me before I can read them. But with you around…you’re like this giant psychic battery, my little key, and if you wander too far, I won’t be able to eavesdrop.”

And there was quite a psychic feast going on: Sam and Fiona, in deep conversation, gestured alternately at Wesley, Dawn and Giles as they sparred their way through watchery details. Wesley was leaned against the pop machine, glaring at his sister and offering a bitter running commentary to Gunn, who was working his way through a Coke and bag of Doritos in which he seemed much more interested. And Buffy…after a moment’s sulky attempt to engage Giles in conversation, she had finally degenerated to haranguing lecture.

“Why would you call in the Watcher’s Council?” she shrieked. “Why, after all they’ve done to me, all they’ve done to YOU…they hurt YOU too, did you forget about that? Did you ever wonder how THAT part made me feel, how it would make me feel NOW? Did you even think about what they would do to Dawn, if they found out about…god, Giles, did you even THINK?”

Dawn shook her head. “He’s not even listening,” she told Lorne. “She’s doing all this shouting and stuff, and he’s not even listening. He’s, like, catatonic or something.”

Lorne squinted, trying to read the vibe in Giles’ blank eyes. “I can’t quite…Dawn, sweetie, can you take a teeny step closer…ah, there we go. All right, hon, hold still, and…ah, okay. No, he’s not catatonic, per se.”

Buffy paused for breath and ran her hand past Giles’ vacant glassy eyes. “Giles? Are you even listening?”

“That should be obvious,” Lorne observed to Dawn. “Of course he’s not. He’s taking a break.”

“He’s…huh?”

“He’s exhausted, poor guy. He’s got too much on his mind right now, and as soon as she started in…I mean, look at her, Dawn. Could he say anything right now that would shut her up?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. So why should he even bother? No, he’s done the smarter thing and shut himself off, taking advantage of the down time to do a little karmic regroup. By the time his poor little psyche recovers enough to peek its head out again, she’ll have shouted herself out and she’ll be ready to talk properly. And if he’s lucky, maybe some of his other little projects will have sorted themselves out in the meanwhile.”

“What other projects?”

He shook his head. “Nuh-uh, no way. A man’s aura is his own business.”

“Which you wouldn’t even be able to read if I was standing two feet further away from you,” pouted Dawn. She jutted her chin defiantly. “Maybe I feel like going to the cafeteria right now,” she said. “Gunn’ll take me. He doesn’t like most of these people anyway. Gunn!” she called.

Lorne grabbed her arm and pulled her back again. “Okay, okay,” he hissed. “Now shush, and I’m serious, you get that? Giles isn’t the only one I can read, and I gotta tell you, babe, those watcher-types are really freaking me out.”

“Really?” She leaned forward, studying the watchers with interest. “Why?”

He sighed. “You understand that it’s very unethical of me to tell you about other people’s auras like this,” he said.

“Uh huh. And it’s probably also unethical for you to use ME to spy on them without their knowing about it.”

“True” he admitted. “Although I’m not entirely doing it on purpose. I didn’t even realize you were having this effect until I saw what you did to Cordelia. Still…” He paused thoughtfully. “All right,” he said. “A compromise. You get nothing on the white hats. But the beige ones…maybe we can have a LITTLE fun…”

Fiona, face purple with rage, glared at Giles as Sam firmly shook his head. With a furious pout, she marched away and stomped into the women’s washroom.

Dawn took a single step forward to increase Lorne’s range. “Start with that,” she said. “I wanna know what THAT was about.”

**

Fiona finally crept out of the women’s washroom, stiff with the effort of holding in her temper, when as one, Angel emerged from Cordelia’s room, and Giles stretched, cat-like, and blinked his eyes open.

Buffy spun, not sure which man she should pay attention to.

“Angel? Giles?”

They solved it for her. With a slight nod of deference from Giles, Angel took a step foreword and addressed the motley group.

“You can come in now,” he said.

Dawn barreled past her, skidding behind the watcher’s backs, Lorne half-heartedly chasing after her. Along the way, he stopped to grab Buffy’s arm and hiss “not now, sweetheart,” when she held back, eye on Giles.

“I’ve got him,” said a voice behind her. Gunn had finally shed his bottomless stash of junk food, and with an affable nod to Buffy, gave Giles a hand up. “You go on ahead,” he said. “We’ll meet you…”

Her lungs were tight with worry, but there was nothing she could do. She shrugged and walked away from them.

**

Dawn climbed onto the bed and grabbed Cordelia in a chokingly firm bear hug.

“Hey, Cordy.”

“Hey yourself,” she rasped. “And not that I’m not loving the attention, but, strangling to death here…”

“Sorry,” said Dawn, tightening her grip. “But I have to be close so THEY wouldn’t hear me.”

Cordelia squirmed. “They?”

“Watchers. Lorne says they’re up to something, and…”

Sam cleared his throat, and they flinched. “Excuse me,” he said primly. “Little, um, girl…”

Dawn stalled, forcing her lower lip to tremble. “I was so scared,” she blubbered loudly. “I thought you were…I thought you would…”

“For god’s sake, man, give them a moment, will you?” said Wesley.

Dawn burrowed into Cordelia’s shoulder, sneaking the gossip between loud, dramatic wails.

“Cordelia and the girl are…close,” explained Wesley. “And it surely wouldn’t hurt to…”

“Oh, of course,” said Sam. “A civilian such as yourself is MUCH more qualified to make judgement calls on grave metaphysical matters than a fully-trained member of the centuries-old council of…”

“I had the same training as you!” interrupted Wesley.

“And look where it got you. Now, Ms. Chase, have you had your moment, then? Are we ready to see what’s become of you?”

“Be careful,” Dawn whispered, finally disentangling herself. Then she climbed off the bed and gave the watchers their first proper view of the revived seer.

**

Gunn propped Giles into a chair and shoved a bottle of water into his hands.

“So, you okay now?”

Giles coughed gingerly, then took a sip. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Hey, no problem. Looked like you were in a little bit over your head there, bro.”

Giles straightened rigidly, eyes sharp and cold.

“Not that it’s any skin off my nose,” continued Gunn. “Just saying that being anagogic’s not the only way to read a guy like you.”

He raised en eyebrow. “Indeed?”

“Indeed.” Gunn grinned. “You’re playing stiff-upper-Brit with me? Look, my current boss is Wesley and my former boss was Cordelia, company name notwithstanding. I know what’s going on here, and I can handle you and your girl.”

“That simple, is it?”

“Man, you’re in quite the mood. Look, I saw you needed rescuing, and I pulled you out is all.”

He felt the first tingling of warmth in his clammy hands. “Thank you,” he finally said.

Gunn shrugged. “Hey, no problem. Look, I don’t have slayer powers or vampire strength or nothing like that, but I lasted just fine, and you know why? Cause I picked up a few of those people skills those dark-avenger types never seem to get around to. And lesson one was learning not to throw myself into EVERY fight that comes along.”

“So?”

“Watchers tripping over guardian Angel for a shot at Queen C? You know I’d just be in the way. You can climb in if you want to, but me? I’m gonna get myself another cherry Coke and chill til Wes is ready with the cliffs notes version.”

“Strategic retreat,” said Giles, nodding. “I understand.”

“My man,” said Gunn. “You got to know when to hold them, and know when to fold ‘em, you know?” He paused. “You don’t drink that pissy diet stuff or something, do you?”

He sighed. “It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it? Suppose I’ll need the energy…”

Gunn nodded, rifling in his pocket for vending machine change. “Cheers.”

**

“Well,” began Sam with only a hint of condescension. “How are we feeling, then?”

Cordelia shrugged. “I don’t know, stunned? Tired, believe it or not. And a little hungry.” She frowned. “Actually, a lot hungry.”

“Really?” he said. “What for? Blood?”

“Ewwwww, no, not blood!”

“That’s good,” said Angel. He turned to Sam. “That IS good, right?”

“Well, she has an appetite,” the watcher said. “And that’s a start.” He beamed at Cordelia. “Well, what would you like then?”

She closed her eyes. “Ice cream,” she said after a moment. “Oh my god, I am so totally starving and I have this huge craving for vanilla ice cream.”

Sam snapped his fingers. “Fiona? Get Ms. Chase some ice cream,” he said.

“Sam, I…”

“Fiona…”

She nodded unhappily and shuffled away. Angel stroked Cordelia’s hand idly, looking worried. “Cordelia, are you…you only eat ice cream when you’re upset. Can I…”

“God, Angel, worry much? I’m not upset, just really REALLY hungry.”

Sam glanced up from his clipboard, suddenly interested. “How hungry?”

“I don’t know,” she said irritably. “Starving. Like I’m gonna pass out if I don’t eat ice cream NOW.”

She shivered, a sudden draft fluttering the curtains. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sam smiled. “I think we’re seeing the first manifestation of the fusion,” he said. “It isn’t just hunger, it’s bloodlust.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! I mean, I get the whole fusion thing: Angel’s blood plus magical connection equals freaky hybrid me. But…bloodlust?”

“Uncontrollable, insatiable hunger, exacerbated by a weakened state…you’re still recovering from yesterday’s accident, and you haven’t eaten…”

“Why ice cream?” asked Angel.

“You said yourself that it’s her comfort food. And I suspect her body would be craving fats anyway. It’s burning extra energy right now as it recovers from the accident.”

The window rattled in its pane, and Lorne raised a timid hand. “Um, excuse me…”

“So every time I’m tired I’m gonna crave ice cream?” ranted Cordelia, oblivious. “That makes NO sense. And it’s totally not good for me. I’m so going to have to join a gym, I mean, I…”

Sam shrugged. “One way to test the theory,” he said. He withdrew a penknife from his pocket.

“Um, hello,” called Lorne again. “If I could just jump in here before you…”

They all winced as Sam drew the blade across his finger and gently wafted the bloody knife beneath Cordelia’s nose. Angel, hardly in top form either, nearly swooned, and Cordelia collapsed into the pillows with a plaintive ‘Oh, god…’

“Bloodlust,” said Sam with satisfaction. “Brilliant, really.”

Cordelia’s breath came in rapid hitches as she struggled to control herself. “Won’t pass out,” she chanted. “Won’t pass out…”

The glass in the window abruptly shattered, and Sam whirled on the broken shards with ill-concealed impatience. “What on earth was that?” he said.

Lorne gave a little wave. “I was trying to tell you,” he said. “That Cordelia’s not the only one who just woke up. That’s Dennis, and I don’t think he appreciates you treating his girl that way…”

**

Gunn paced the waiting room, tossing the empty can of cherry coke from palm to palm.

“You know,” he said. “I bet I could crush this can with my bare hands.”

Giles slumped gloomily in his chair, glowering. “And?”

“Whoa,” said Gunn. “Thought we were done with the gloomy-broody. If I wanted that, I’d go hang with Angel.”

“Forgive me,” said Giles. “I had no idea that my responsibilities in this matter included entertaining you.”

“And I had no idea,” said Gunn, without missing a beat, “that all of Cordelia’s friends were such downers. Man, do you really think this is helping any?”

Chastened, Giles cracked the barest smile. “You’re right,” he said. “This…this hasn’t been very productive, has it?”

“I don’t know. Probably better that you get it out of your system now. If Cordelia saw you like this…”

“Just what I need,” grumbled Giles. “On top of everything else, Cordelia mad at me…”

“Now, don’t go starting with that cryptic ‘everything’ crap again,” said Gunn. “This whole morning, you’ve been all ‘things going on’ and ‘what’s on my mind’ and I think I’ve been pretty good with the not prying. But bro, if you’re gonna bring me down with you, don’t I at least deserve to know what we’re so sad about?”

“No.”

Gunn put down his coke can and took a seat near Giles. “Look, it’s your call,” he said without a trace of his earlier lightness. “And if that’s the way you want to play it…like I said, it’s your call, but man, something tells me we’re heading into a whole new world here, you know? And not just with Cordelia and Angel either. Those special visitors of yours don’t look like they’re just pitching tents for the weekend. They look like they’re stacking cords of lumber for the log cabin and scouting the summit for the best views.”

“Look, I said I was sorry about…”

“I know,” said Gunn. “And I ain’t ragging on you. Only saying that you might want to clear out the back seat before we start picking up hitchhikers, you know what I’m saying?”

“You couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Try me. Now, one at a time, G. Walk me through it, and let’s see if we can’t think you up some coping skills.”

He picked up the coke can, and with one swift motion, smashed it into a flat, neat bundle.

“Told you I could do that,” he said. “Now, it’s your turn.”

**

Cordelia locked dazed eyes with each of her friends before cocking her head at the ceiling.

“Dennis?”

He fluttered her hair in delighted answer, and she broke into a grin.

“Dennis!” she squealed, wrapping her arms around the air in front of her. “I was so worried, you were the first thing I thought of after I woke up. Well, the first thing after me, then Angel, then Wolfram and Hart and evil watchers, but still…” She held out her arms. “Dennis!”

The bed-sheet ruffled in acknowledgement, the ghost clearly just as thrilled to see his mistress as she was him.

“But how did you…” she turned to Lorne. “I mean, wasn’t he?”

Lorne grinned. “All this time you thought he was tied to the building? Oh, no, sweetheart, not at all. You’re the one who freed him, kitten. It’s YOU he’s tied to.”

The mattress dimpled as the ghost bounced excitedly up and down, clearly thrilled with the attention.

“But that means…”

“Uh huh. Whither thou goest, he goest.”

“But where am I…” Suddenly, it hit her. “Oh my god. I’m homeless.”

Sam had been boredly watching her little reunion with Dennis, but now, he stepped forward impatiently.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Very bad, terrible, terrible, but if we could just get back to…”

She shook her head. “Angel? I’m really…oh god…”

“I know,” he soothed. He tried to sit down beside her again, but hesitated at the edge of the bed. “Um, is Dennis…I mean, I um, don’t want to…well, sit on him…”

“Right side,” said Cordelia, patting the mattress. She bit her lip. “Well,” she said. “I guess we’re…moving in together.”

“Guess so.”

“A little early in the relationship for that, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“Will we…I mean, are you okay with this? With me, and Dennis, and…stuff…”

“Speaking of,” interrupted Sam again.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” sniped Cordelia. “Will you please just SHUT UP?”

Lorne staggered backward, hand over his eyes.

“Have you NO consideration?” shrieked Cordelia. “Do you have any regard at all for me as a person, or am I just some…project…to you and your…oh, god, where is she? I need…oh, god…” She wilted, face frantic, eyes pained.

“Cordelia?” said Angel. He turned on the dizzily stumbling Lorne. “What is it, Lorne? What did you see?”

The demon bartender took a step away from them. “Whoa,” he choked. “You’re telling me you don’t see it too?”

“See what?” said Angel. “What’s…”

“Wrong with her?” He squinted through his fingers, careful not to look at her directly. “Much as I hate to give Thing One over here any more ammo…I think we might be looking at symptom number two of the fusion.”

“Really?” said Sam eagerly. “What is it?”

“Not something YOU should be getting so happy about,” said Lorne. “Since she came pretty close to socking you in the face. She got kinda angry there, didn’t she?”

“Yes? And?”

“And I’m saying that, from an auric point of view, it was a little bit more than anger. More like…sudden-onset, near-demonic…murderous rage.”

“WHAT?” roared Angel.

“Yes, like that,” said Lorne, smiling weakly. “Manifestation of your demon side, bro.”

“Fascinating,” chirped Sam, scribbling away on his clipboard. “Blood lust, demon temper…”

Cordelia wriggled out of Angel’s embrace, chin wobbling. “I’m a…a demon?”

“No, sweetheart, no,” said Lorne. “Just having a manifestation of one.”

“But it…it feels so…”

“Intense? I know, hon, I know. Just that you haven’t learned to control it yet, that’s all.”

“I’m hungry,” she whimpered. “I don’t feel good.”

He rubbed his horn tiredly. “Sweetheart, you aren’t the only one. Do you people have any idea how exhausting your little psychic mood swings are?”

He winced again as Cordelia flung him a withering glare.

“What? I can’t have pain too?”

**

Giles popped open another Cherry coke and chugged it anxiously.

“Right. Where were we?”

“The key,” said Gunn. “And are you sure you should be having more of that stuff? The sugar…”

“My drinking habits are my own business. Now, you were saying…”

“Right. I was saying that your mistake is thinking that cause you cut the girl some slack before, it means you have to cut her slack forever, you know?"

“No.”

“You’re trying to impress her so you don’t come off all evil-stepfather,” said Gunn. “But G, that’s wrong. If you cut her some slack while her mom is dying and there’s a hell-god after her, that’s one thing. But now---cutting her slack to save your own ass---that’s you you’re looking out for, and that just ain’t fair.”

“If you’re saying I should…”

“I’m saying you should sit down with that girl and be straight with her. You’re sitting here telling me she’s not letting YOU in. But I don’t see you doing a whole lot of letting HER in either.”

“And I should do that for what reason, exactly?”

Gunn shook his head. “Man, you do have it bad.”

**

The only one who was visibly moving was Cordelia. Fully ensconced in her own shivering, trembling pain, she was completely oblivious to the auric face-off going on around her: Angel, his own hand clasped desperately around hers, trying to keep the watcher away with daggery glares alone…

It was time for him to take control here. All of this conflict was making him dizzy.

He tapped Wesley on the shoulder. “Go find your sister,” he instructed. Then he tapped Angel on the shoulder. “Time to round up the gang,” he said. “Go find Giles, will you?”

“But Cordelia…”

“On it,” he said. Angel hesitated. “Oh, come on,” said Lorne. “Just give me a minute…”

He glanced reluctantly back at Cordelia, and with a final prod from Lorne, pried his hand away and retreated. Lorne locked eyes with Dawn and nodded in Angel’s direction. She followed after him without comment.

When the room was clear, Lorne and Buffy were standing side by side.

“Well,” said Lorne. “A few ground rules, then.”

“I daresay, not entirely,” said Sam, straightening the pages on his clipboard neatly. “You civilians have delayed me enough. I am here on official watcher’s council business, and I plan to…”

“What? Take care of her?” said Lorne. He stepped back. “Go on, try it.”

With a smirk, Sam sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“Well then,” he began awkwardly. “I imagine you’re feeling the effects of the blood lust by now, and...”

”I was an hour ago,” Cordelia said pointedly. “When you sent your flunkey to get me my…”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, right. Well, at any rate, I imagine you’re rather uncomfortable, and…”

“Thanks for the reminder. And I’m not sure uncomfortable is the word. More like ‘going insane with hunger as my insides eat themselves up in a fiery rot of agony.’”

He squirmed. “Yes, right. Well, my dear, it is fortunate for you that you have some watchers here, as we’re trained in a wide variety of relaxation techniques, and…”

Lorne tapped him on the shoulder. “Skip to the punchline?”

“Right. Well then, Cordelia, I want you to close your eyes for me and take a deep breath and picture yourself in a safe and comfortable place. That’s right, inhale…exhale…are you in a happy place?”

Her body relaxed. “Yes…”

“Good, good. “Well, where are you, exactly?”

“The Hyperion,” she said.

“The…what?”

Lorne whispered in his ear.

“Your workplace?” he said critically. “That’s your happy place?”

She opened her eyes, body tensing. “So? What’s wrong with that?”

“Well…nothing, I suppose. Just that most people pick grassy meadows and cliff-top mountain ranges for this sort of thing.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” snapped Lorne. He shoved the watcher hard with his elbow, and squiggled into place beside Cordelia. “Interesting choice for a happy place,” he said.

“Well…all my friends are there.”

“Awww, of course they are,” he soothed. “Now, just keep breathing like that, kitten, and have a mental look around you. You’re in the courtyard, Cordelia. In the garden.”

She closed her eyes again and smiled. “I like it out here.”

“Uh huh. So you’re in the courtyard, and you’re alone. But Angel and Wesley and Gunn are right inside if you need them.”

“’kay….”

“Now, to your right is a table and chair,” said Lorne. “And when you sit down in the chair, you notice a bowl of alphabet soup sitting on the table. Do you see it, Cordelia?”

“Yes…”

“All right, then, it’s yours. Have a seat, feel the gentle breeze wafting through the flowers and enjoy your little snack---just be sure and eat the letters in order, okay?”

Her face scrunched in concentration, and her slow, careful breathing gently softened.

“Should keep her busy for a few minutes,” said Lorne. “While you and I talk ground rules.”

**

Giles watched impassively as Angel and Dawn, deep in conversation, ambled down the hall toward him.

“You ready?” said Gunn.

“I think so, yes.”

“Looks like you ain’t the only one who got a talking-to,” Gunn observed, watching Dawn’s thoughtful face as she neared their little camp-out.

“Looks like.”

Gunn gave him a final, encouraging smile before he walked away. “Well then. There’s a common experience you two can bond over.”

Before Giles could protest, Gunn had gotten Angel alone and was sharing the wonders of cherry Coke with him, leaving him alone with Dawn for the first time in days.

**

“Ground rules,” repeated Sam with an amazed shake of his head. “You dare to assume that you’re in any position…you need me, sir. You’ve called me in because you know you can’t handle this situation without me.”

“Well, aren’t WE self-important!”

“My good…man…perhaps, where YOU come from, they don’t have a council of watchers, and therefore you are not aware that for centuries, the council has safeguarded the well-being of humanity. Why, without us, there are none in this motley little group who would have made it past their…”

“Hey!” interrupted Buffy. She flattened the watcher with an icy stare. “I think me and mine have proven long ago that we don’t need anything from you.”

“Atta girl,” said Lorne.

“Nonetheless…” said Sam. “What we have here is something your watcher feels your little group is unprepared to handle alone: a mystical convergence of an unprecedented nature. A vampire, and one cursed by gypsy magic, at that…and a seer, a direct connection to the Powers-That-Be…”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. And so far, you’ve been a HUGE help.”

“Look,” whined Sam. “I haven’t even started yet. I mean, you haven’t…you’ve barely let me near her, and…”

“And although I am doubtful you could handle her better than I could,” interrupted Lorne, “I am willing to concede that your connections could be useful. Which is why I’m willing to let you stay…provided you agree to behave yourself.”

“Willing to let me stay?” Sam sneered. “Like it’s even up to you…”

Lorne snapped his fingers. “Cordelia, sweetie…”

She blinked, and opened her eyes. “Yuh-huh?”

“Be a good girl and don’t cooperate, ‘kay?”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

Sam, quaking with rage, raised a menacing fist. “Why you…”

Buffy, offhandedly angling her body to shield Lorne, was finally enjoying herself. “Oh, sure,” she taunted. “Like threatening him is really going to win them over…”

Sam closed his eyes and counted to three out loud. “I’m sorry,” he finally said with measured, careful calm.

“Well, you aren’t,” said Lorne. “But hey, you’re trying, at least, and I’ve got to respect that, if nothing else. Now, why don’t you start by telling me exactly what you plan to do here?”

Sam bristled. “The procedures of the watcher’s council are highly classified, and…”

“Darn,” said Buffy. “And we were doing so well.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” sighed Sam. “It’s nothing dangerous, all right? We’ve a few crystals we’ll want to run some blood samples through--- tests for standard mystical markers, that sort of thing. We’ll want to do tests as well for reflexes, strength, sensory capacity---see if she inherited any vampire traits on that end. We won’t hurt her.”

“And you plan to do this here?”

“Well, we’d like to keep her in the hospital overnight for observation. She did just wake up from a coma, after all. And after---well, we’ve set up a field centre about half an hour away with all of our equipment, and…”

“No,” said Cordelia quietly. “I don’t…I just want to go home,” she said. “Lorne, I’m tired, and I’m scared, and I just want…”

“You don’t HAVE a home,” said Sam pointedly.

“Lorne…” she whined.

Buffy shook her head. “Wrong thing to say…”

“Is it? My dear, by protesting as you are, you are only proving how very much you need us here. Your response is so typically civilian, burying your head in the metaphysical sand…but I am a watcher, and my sole responsibility is to the truth. You need that right now. You need ME. We have a situation here, do you understand that?”

With obvious effort, Cordelia hoisted herself onto her elbows.

“So? We’ve had situations before, and where were you? I did just fine. WE did just fine, and now you come in here and think you have the right to…”

Abruptly, she wilted as the door pushed open and Wesley entered, his sister in tow. She held out her hand.

“Did you…”

Fiona rolled her eyes and passed a plastic grocery bad to Wesley. He sat down gently beside her. “Now, go slow,” he said. “Let’s not make yourself sick, all right? I’ll help you…”

Satisfied that Cordelia was in good hands, he nodded to Buffy, and they each grabbed the arm of a watcher and dragged them out of Cordelia’s earshot. It was showtime.

**

Giles studied a fingernail intently as Dawn squirmed. The silence was unbearable.

“Well,” he said.

“Uh huh.”

“You’ve been alright, then? You’ve…”

“Yup.”

“And Cordelia, she’s…”

“She’s good. Big mystical something-or-other, but she’s…”

“Good, good. And you’re…”

“Uh huh. Lorne’s been looking after me. And Angel…”

“Yes?”

“It had me thinking,” she said. “Seeing him like that---he had so much to worry about, you know? Cordelia and him, and…and that was real, you know? That was important.”

“Dawn…”

“And my thing? Not so much. Look, I don’t know what’s gonna happen, with you and Buffy and me. But we can…we can try, can’t we? We can try not to make it worse than it has to be?”

He blew out a breath. “I can’t be perfect,” he said slowly. “Not for you, not for her, not for anyone.”

“I know…”

“And I don’t intend to be the only grown-up in this either. Sometimes, I suspect I’m a good deal less wise and right than you might think me to be.”

“Giles…”

“And sometimes, I’ll need things too.” He smiled. “From you, even.”

“Really?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I won’t. So, are we…cool?”

“We are. Now, then, shall I go apologize to your sister?”

They joined hands.

**

“Well then,” said Lorne briskly.

“For god’s sake, man, just say it already,” muttered Sam. “No sense dragging it out.”

“All right. Well, for starters, do I need to be explaining to you that Cordelia is first and foremost an actual person here?”

“Oh, come on.”

“Now, look here,” said Lorne. “You’re the one who started salivating the second he heard the words mystical anomaly. You’ve got no right to be the attitudey one. She’s a person, Watcher. And not only that, she’s one of MY people.”

“And mine,” said Buffy.

“And hers,” agreed Lorne. “You got that?”

“Treat the girl with sensitivity,” mumbled Sam. “Got it.”

“Uh huh. And you treat her friends that way too, you understand? If you try hiding her away from us”

“Of course, of course,” said Sam. “She is welcome to have whatever visitors she likes, when we aren’t involved in confidential council procedures…”

Lorne shook his head. “Not so fast, oh captain, my captain. You aren’t understanding me. You want alone-time? You can have it---when you’re alone. But as soon as you step into a room with her, SHE becomes in charge, and nobody comes or goes unless she’s the one who tells them to.”

“But some of our procedures…for modesty alone, she’ll…”

“That’s fine,” said Lorne. “If she wants them to leave, they leave. But you don’t get to make that call, amigo.”

Sam pursed his lips. “Very well. And?”

“Rule number two,” he said. “No extracurriculars. You were called in for Cordelia, and she’s all you get. You leave the vampire alone. You leave the slayer alone. You leave the ghost, the key and the green-skinned anagogic demon alone. Fair enough?”

Fiona opened her mouth, then closed it at Sam’s withering glare of warning.

“Fair enough,” the watcher said. “Although…if our work should happen to…converge in places…”

“Work around it,” said Lorne. “I support scientific curiosity as much as the next guy does, and I feel your pain on this one. And being anagogic, I mean that literally. But you don’t touch any of them, even if their auras hold the very answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything, capiche?”

“As crystal. Are we done?”

“One more. She gets checked out by a real doctor, before you touch her. Someone who’s had a license to practice medicine in this hospital for more than the two days you have. Fair enough?”

The watcher gave a slight nod, and Lorne had exactly ten seconds to bask in the glow of a job well-done before the door slammed open noisily and Kate stomped in.

**

Cordelia waved cheerfully from the bed, between mouthfuls of ice cream.

“Hi, Kate.”

“Hi, Cordelia. Lorne, I need to talk to you.”

Sam studied the new arrival curiously. “And who might you be?”

“That’s Kate,” said Cordelia.

“Yes, you mentioned that. But who IS she?”

“Lorne, I REALLY need to talk to you. Alone.”

Sam’s gaze flicked from Lorne to Kate, then back again. He smiled. “Ah, yes. I see.”

“Probably, you don’t,” said Lorne. “But anyway…Cordelia, hon, you okay?”

She licked her spoon and put it down on the table beside her. “Much better. Still feeling a little bit hyper, but that could be from the sugar.”

“What could be from the sugar?” Angel pushed his way past the mini-traffic jam in the doorway, with Dawn, Giles and Gunn trailing in after him. “Cordy, you okay?”

“Lorne, I really REALLY need to talk to you,” said Kate again.

“All right, all right, just give me a second here.” He cupped his hands to his mouth in makeshift megaphone.

“Excuse me,” he shouted. “Hello, everyone? Yeah, hi, great. If I could have your attention for a…great, okay. If you would please put up your hand if you will NOT be staying at the Hyperion this evening…”

Gunn and Wesley raised their hands, and Lorne nodded. “You two can go,” he said. “Gunn, Wes can fill you in on the way out, but there is no point in either of you killing another night watching the perfectly healthy Cordelia sleep uneventfully.” He turned to Dawn. “Sweetie, I need you to go home with Angel, ‘kay?”

“But Buffy…Giles…”

“Angel,” Lorne insisted.

“I’m not going home,” said Angel. “I’m staying with Cordelia.”

“No, you aren’t,” said Lorne. “Angel, everything that girl had burned up two days ago. Before she comes home with you, she’s gonna need clothes, she’s gonna need food, she’s gonna need…stuff…”

“But she’s…”

“Already taken care of. Isn’t she, Buffy?”

“Ah, right,” said Buffy. “She’s…wait, I’M spending the night?”

“What, you really thought I’d leave her alone with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern here? Not so much. Sweetie, you’ve been giving off the cutest little momma bear vibe, and I thought you might want to hone it some before I give your kid back to you. That okay?”

“Oh,” said Buffy. “Well, okay.” She gave Cordelia a smile. “Slumber party. Just us girls…and evil-watchers, but still….”

“Super,” said Lorne. “Angel, drop Giles off at the hotel on your way to the mall with Dawn, will you? Poor guy needs some alone time like nobody’s business.”

He smiled. “I think my work here is done. Now, Katie---is this a dinner-type thing, or were you just gonna shout at me?”

The gang dispersed. All was quiet on the western front, and it was night again.

**

He managed to hustle her into the car before she started yammering.

"What the hell was going on in there? Why were there…who were those…"

"Shhhh, Katie, shhhhh," Lorne soothed. "We have the whole night, kitten, didn't you see what I did for you? I got rid of everyone…"

"But, Cordelia. Those people…"

"Scared you, did they? Well, to be perfectly honest, hon, they scared me too a little." He gave her an encouraging smile. "But to be even more perfectly honest, I think I scared them back…"

She ran a finger across his playful smirk with disapproving curiosity. "Lorne? Did you…you've been behaving yourself, haven't you?"

He widened his eyes in mock outrage. "My dear! That you could even imply!"

"I mean it, Lorne. You aren't…getting involved, are you?"

He sighed. "Katie, look. Those guys are smart, all of them, in a sort of…how can I put this? Well, smart in a smart sort of way. But they lack a certain…karmic finesse, you know what I'm saying?"

"And?"

"And I have to work a tiny bit harder with people like that. If I don't keep their shiny, swirly little auras properly coralled, they'll stampede me."

Kate frowned. "I don't think that's it. I think you just like being a busybody."

"It's one of my endearing qualities. It's why you love me so much."

She softened. "You ARE a good friend, Lorne. And I do love you for it. But I guess I just…I know what can happen, you know? With them? And the fact that they are probably the only people in the world who really do have brave and noble reasons for screwing up your life…"

"Katie…"

"Look, I like them, okay?" she said with a weary sigh. "Don't get me wrong, I do. But Lorne, the kinds of problems they have---it's too much. I just don't have it in me to handle some of that, do you understand?"

"Katie, nobody's asking you to…"

"YOU are," she said, subconsciously tensing away from him. "By association, you are, and it isn't fair. I know my limits, Lorne. I know how involved I can afford to be here, and if being with you is going to somehow push me over that line…"

His face hardened. "You're asking me to choose? Them or you?"

"Not yet," she said thoughtfully. "Just warning you that there's a line out there. And that for every eye you keep on them, you'll want to keep another on the ground so you can see it."

**

Buffy picked up a plastic container of Jello and turned it over in her hands.

"You having this?"

"I think I've had enough sugar for today, don't you?" said Cordelia.

Buffy smiled weakly. "Touche, Ms-Psychic-Mystery. But I haven't eaten all day, so do you mind if I…"

"Oh, god!" said Cordelia. "Buffy, I'm so sorry, it's all MY fault, and…" She nodded to the watchers, huddled over a laptop computer, deep in work. "I bet we could make them get you real food," she said. "They're pretty much at my beck and call, aren't they?"

"Hey, it's okay," said Buffy. "Jello looks safe. If you're sure…"

"Please, help yourself." She fidgeted. "So…what's the plan?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. Heard Harpo and Zeppo over there going on about remote something or other…I think that laptop they're playing with is some kind of souped up walkie talkie thing so they can spy on us without actually having to hang around."

Cordelia nodded. "Phantom Dennis doesn't like them. I think he's scared them."

"Smart Phantom Dennis," said Buffy. "I can't say I blame him. But if it's all the same to him, I think I plan to stick around."

"Buffy, I know what Lorne said, but you don't have to…"

Buffy kicked off her shoes and pulled up a chair beside Cordelia's bed. "And where else would I go?"

Cordelia frowned. "Oh. Ohhhhh. Okay, is this something you want to talk about?"

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me," said Cordelia. "I may have spent most of the morning passed out and most of the afternoon being guinea pigged, but don't think I didn't notice Giles go Copperfield on you. What gives?"

Buffy squirmed. "Nothing. It's fine."

"Are you saying that because you think I'm still too weak to handle stressy things? Or cause you're feeling like crap and don't really want to dwell?"

Buffy cracked the tiniest of smiles. "Nice to see that even fire, near-death and mystical DNA soup can't kill your snark."

"This isn't snark, it's a well-developed sense of irony. And stop avoiding. If you really are gonna stay here all night, you know we'll have to talk about this."

"We will?"

"Well, I'll just keep nagging you until you spill…"

Buffy sighed. "Fine," she said.

"So?" Cordelia prompted. "Walk me through it."

**

They spent the ride from the restaurant to his sanctuary in stonily contemplative silence. As they stepped out of her car, she opened her mouth again, but he shushed her with a commanding gesture and unlocked the bar. He maintained the silent treatment until he had shed his jacket for a robe, plopped himself into a cushy chair and poured himself a Seabreeze.

"All right," he said. "Now that we're fed, safe and settled, are you ready to tell me what it is that has you so freaked out?"

She shriveled into her seat, shying away from him. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean…"

"You did," he said, more gently than she was expecting. "And sweetheart, you NEVER have to hold back that kind of stuff with me. It isn't healthy, for one thing, and for another, I can sort of tell."

She flinched. "That's right," she said woodenly. "I forgot."

"I know," he said. "And I'm gonna let you off the hook for that just this once because I'm sensing that you're still a little thrown by whatever it is your cop buddy told you this morning." He folded his arms expectantly.

"Nothing," she said.

He sighed. "You're still playing that game? Come on, Katie, this SO isn't the time. Do you…do you know something? About what happened? About Cordelia?"

She closed her eyes, utterly sapped. "Once upon a time, I had a normal life," she said. "Ace with the handcuffs. Crack shot with the service pistol. Sure, it may be the paperwork that kills you in the end, but I was a cop, a field cop, a STREET cop. Chase the criminals. Face the bad guys. Fight the fucking good fight. And that, Lorne, was my 'normal' life. How whacked is that?"

"Katie…"

She straightened, the flow of anger energizing her. "No, don't say anything. I'm trying to explain this to you. I want you to see where I'm coming from. I was tough, Lorne. I was hardened. I thought...I thought I had seen it all. And then…" She laughed bitterly. "Do you have any idea how easy it was for them to flip it all around on me? How little it took to…god, I can't even say it. They broke me, do you understand that? Maybe not on purpose. Maybe not even directly, I mean, I can't blame them for the mere existence of evil, can I?"

"No," he said.

"It was so easy," she said softly. "And the only way I could handle things was to KEEP it easy. Us versus them. Bad versus good. Human versus…" She looked away. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I'm trying."

"I know."

"It's just…just so much harder now, you know? Witches can be right, giants can be good…"

"…you decide what's right, you decide what's good…Into the Woods, isn't it? Sondheim?" He smiled. "Do you remember how it begins?"

"Lorne…"

"Mother isn't here now…who knows what she'd say? Nothing's quite so clear now…feel you've lost your way? You are not alone, believe me. No one is alone, just remember…" He trailed off, all trace of glimmer gone from his warm, alien eyes. "It's a human villain, isn't it?" he realized. "And after all you've seen, that's almost worse…"

She sighed. "It goes deep, Lorne. My friend on the force…he had a file ten inches thick on this law firm…"

He climbed off his chair and kneeled beside her, humming softly, comforting her in the only way he knew how---with music…

**

Cordelia sat on the freshly made bed, fully dressed, putting the finishing touches on a stray shoelace.

"Well?" she said. "How do I look?"

"Pretty good for someone who spent the night in a hospital and is wearing mysterious watcher-found clothes," said Buffy with a smile.

Cordelia grinned. "Really? There might be a career in fashion for me after all?"

Buffy shook her head. "You aren't STILL on that, are you?"

"Well, going back to school, that's kind of a big decision. And now that I no longer have to worry about the crippling migraines of doom…"

"We don't know that," Buffy clarified. "You haven't had a vision yet."

Cordelia squirmed. "I know, I just…I feel different, that's all. Stronger. Better. Hungry."

Buffy laughed. "Again? Well, I spoke to Angel while you were getting dressed, and he said something about meeting the gang at Caritas…"

"Thank god," said Cordelia. "I could eat a horse." She frowned. "But not literally. Cause, ewww."

Buffy laughed. "It's great to see you this way."

"What, hyper and hungry? You heard what the non-watcher doctor said…my metabolism is off the charts and he can't even track my brain activity."

"I know," said Buffy. "Isn't it fun?"

"Buffy!"

"Hey, you aren't the only one with super-powers here, miss-vampire-attributes. Once you learn to control it, you might even have fun…"

"Right. Cause you so enjoy the super-strength."

"Well, I CAN have my fun when I want to. As I'm sure Angel can verify."

"Buffy!"

She smirked. "What, I can't enjoy the simple things in life? Safe sex? Teasing you?"

"BUFFY!"

Buffy sighed. "Okay, okay. So, in my wanderings I found a bathroom with a shower in it. You mind if I…"

"Go ahead. Buffy, thanks. Seriously."

With a playful salute, Buffy strolled out of the hospital room, and seconds later, the door clanged open again. Cordelia looked up briefly, then froze, pointedly straightening the knot on her shoe, then lowering her foot to the floor.

"Well," she said dully. "Another Sunnydale refugee."

Scott Hope grinned impishly and cocked his head into the hallway, at the departing Buffy. "I thought she'd never leave," he said. "And I thought YOU of all people would be happier to see me."

**

Rupert Giles opened his eyes and found them staring directly into Angel's smiling face.

"Morning," the vampire chirped.

He groaned and rolled onto his side. "Is it that time already?"

"Oh come on," teased Angel. "Don't be so cranky. Cordelia's coming home today! And you…"

Giles winced. "Will you please stop shouting at me?"

Angel's grin deepened. "Took you to Caritas did he?"

"I imagine Caritas was closed last night," said Giles. "Lorne looked rather preoccupied. And whatever are you talking about?"

"I waited up for you," said Angel. "You came home late."

"So? I can come and go as I please."

Angel nodded. "Where'd Gunn take you?"

Giles straightened with all the dignity his still prone and semi-clad figure could muster. "That," he said archly. "Is none of your business."

"Okay," said Angel. As long as you aren't too hung over to drive me to the hospital to get Cordelia. Cause, daylight…"

Giles sat up with a sigh. "Give me 20 minutes to shower and dress," he said. "Will that be all?"

Angel squirmed. "Actually, no," he said. "This is…I mean…"

Giles softened. "Angel, what is it?"

"Well, Cordelia…she talks to you…"

"She does. But Angel, I could never…"

"I know. And I'm not asking you to…but now that she's…you would let me know, wouldn't you? If she told you anything that I should…"

"I would certainly encourage her to come to you directly," Giles interrupted. "But I will not be your messenger, nor hers either. You need to learn to talk to each other."

"I know that. And we are. We do. We're working on it. But she talks to you, and…"

"Yes," said Giles slowly, a devious glint in his eye. "She talks to me. And Dawn…talks to you."

"Dawn talks to Cordelia." corrected Angel.

"And Cordelia couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it," finished Giles. He frowned. "Actually, I think she could ONLY keep a secret if her life depended on it. You're still on the hook here, Angel. Cordelia talks to quite a few people, now that I think of it. And if anything interesting should chance to come up at the dinner table…" The watcher broke off with a manic giggle.

"Giles?"

"I'm sorry, Angel. I just had the most disturbing mental picture of the two of you, settling down for a quiet evening at home, like a bloody Norman Rockwell painting…her with the soup or salad or what have you and you with the steaming hot mug of pig's blood…"

"That's not fair," said Angel softly. "We try, Giles. I try."

He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I know you do. We all do. But don't you ever wonder…" He shook his head. "Never mind. We have an understanding, then?"

Angel blinked. "Guess so."

**

The awkwardness was claustrophobic, but Cordelia shrugged it off and pasted on a smile.

"So, it's been ages," she said dutifully. "How've you been?"

"Good, good. Moved to L.A. just after high school, did college, did work…"

"Uh huh."

"I'm actually here on work now," he said casually. "L.A. Weekly. I'm a reporter."

"Oh?"

"Doing some follow-up on the big apartment fire, heard they were releasing you this morning and thought I'd check in…"

"Right. Cause an apartment fire is SUCH a big story in a city this size."

He shrugged. "So I saw your name in the police report and I got curious. Press card gets me in almost any place, and I pretty much set my own hours when I'm 'working on a story.' So I'm using my pull to check up on an old friend…"

"I'm flattered," she said tonelessly.

"And you? What have you been…"

"Work," she said. "You know how it is. Thinking of going back to school…"

"Hey, yeah, Nancy told me. That's great, Cordelia, really."

She narrowed her eyes. "You talk to Nancy?"

"I date Nancy."

"Oh."

He gave her an encouraging smile. "So long as I'm here, IS there actually a story?"

"I thought that was just a pretense."

"It was. But I do get paid by the word, so if there's any crumb you can throw me…"

She couldn't deal with him right now. She had enough Sunnydale in her life. But damned if she was going to throw him to the evil lawyers either…

"No comment," she said.

**

They were flipping through fashion magazines when the boys arrived. With a squeal of delight, Cordelia flew into Angel's arms.

Giles held back, then, satisfied Buffy would not take the lead, stepped inside and sat down gingerly beside her. She put down the magazine.

"Relax," she said.

He blinked dazedly. "Buffy?

"At first I was angry," she said. "And at Lorne too, for keeping us separated. But it's all good. I think we both needed a night to cool down, didn't we?"

He coughed nervously. "But you're not…"

"Mad at you? Maybe a little. I mean, let's face it, Giles, you hardly handled your bad decision with the greatest panache, and poor Cordelia's going to be stuck with those losers for weeks because of you."

He nodded miserably. "I know."

"But Cordelia and I hashed it out last night. We hashed out a lot of things. And we decided that we both have enough to worry about right now. I don't want to feel more miserable if I don't have to, you know?"

"So, are we…"

"Dawn is more important right now. WE are more important. Let it go, Giles."

"Buffy, I want to tell you that I'm…"

"I know," she said gently. "And you know? For once in my life, that's actually enough."

**

Caritas was booming.

"Isn't it great?" gushed Lorne. "You close for one night, and suddenly, they can't get enough of you."

Angel's glower paced the room protectively. "I don't know. It's a little….overstimulated, isn't it? Cordelia…"

"Cordelia is starving," she interjected. "Lorne, table, menu, now."

"At your service," said Lorne gallantly. "And may I suggest that if anybody wants to sing, you sign up now? We're way booked…"

"Giles!" Cordelia squealed. "Giles, you have to sing for us. You so rock."

Giles squirmed. "Cordelia, I…"

"What? You're going back to Sunnydale this afternoon, and I might not see you for god only knows…"

"Cordelia…"

"Look," she pleaded. "Have you checked out this crowd? Mordock the bentback is here, I've heard him sing, and I'm so not in the mood to hear him again. In fact, I don't think I'd ever be in that kind of mood."

Lorne arrived with drinks, and tossed a binder on the table. "I've opened it to her favourite selections," he said. "Your call, amigo."

Giles absently skimmed through the binder. "Indigo Girls?"

"So? Their lyrics are clever," said Cordelia. "What? They are!"

He hummed under his breath. "We're all busy with our happiness, busy with our plans…"

Cordelia winced. "Too depressing."

"Well, it's not exactly the most upbeat album," said Giles. "The only happy song is 'Watershed' it's more of a duet, really…"

Angel smirked. "You know Indigo Girls?"

"Only the one," said Giles. "Cordelia loaned it to me. Well, all right, then. If it's folk music you want…" He snapped his fingers, and Lorne glided over. "You have guitars?" Giles asked.

"For you? Anytime."

Giles nodded, then followed Lorne to the stage as the room got quiet for him.

T'is a gift to be simple
T'is a gift to be free
T'is a gift to come down
Where you want to be
And when we find ourselves
In the place just right
It will be in the valley
Of love and delight
When true simplicity is gained
To bow, to bend we will not be ashamed
To turn, turn, it will be our delight
'til by turning, turning, we come round right…

**

Far away, a sleeping power stirred. It was not so difficult for her to keep up the appearance of lethargy now; the spellcasting was debilitatingly exhausting. There had been some stupor in the first few days, the pain of newly re-wrought life---and the blood caution of the long line of magic she was born into. That little inner voice that kept her sleeping while she scouted out the situation…

Slowly, over days upon days, she came back to herself, and when she heard among the spray of plotting two stray names that alone might mean something big, but joined together would surely mean something bad…

She mobilized. She gathered her reserves and put on the blank face she used for her apparently aimless snooping. She found the computers within a day.

Astral projection had never been difficult for her, and she soon regained the ability to leave her body at will. But telekinesis was always tricky in the astral state, and it took her almost a week to be able to manipulate objects during her nightly astral wandering.

From there, it was simple enough: a cloaking spell to keep the computer's activity hidden from the spy cameras, and she could squeeze in an hour or so on-line before the magical effort exhausted her. She plugged those names she'd heard into a search engine, and found Angel Investigations on her first hit.

There was no email address listed, only a phone number, and she wasn't quite ready for that…but the "friends" page linked to a place called Caritas, and THAT was a link to her past that predated even Angel.

It was certainly something to think about. But first, a few days off to get her strength back...

**

Caritas was empty. The lunch crowd had long dispersed, and Buffy had finally left with Giles and Dawn for Sunnydale.

"Dawn's missed enough school," she told them. "But Cordy, we're only a phone call away…"

Cordelia snuffled bravely through goodbyes and promised to call them later, and as she bundled them into the car, Giles pressed the small, flat package into her hands.

"Consider it a house-warming," he told her with a wink.

Now, she had a moment. Wesley and Gunn were back at the hotel getting Phantom Dennis settled in, and Angel was calming Lorne down following Kate's departure this morning. She had a moment, and she reached inside the paper bag…

The Indigo Girls CD fell softly into her lap, the card floating on top of it: in smaller letters, an explanatory 'to replace the one I've borrowed' and in larger letters, the lyric, in neat, bold calligraphy---

After the battle, and we're still around
Everything once up in the air has settled down
Sweep the ashes
Let the silence find us
A moment of peace is worth every war behind us

**

7: Imitation of Life

Cordelia Chase, sweaty from both exertion and the humidity of the Hyperion's cavernous basement, landed a kick with expert precision.

"Ugh," she groaned. "Can we stop now?"

Sam Zabuto, eyes never wavering from his laptop display, clucked his tongue. "Now, now, Ms Chase. We've barely started. Move on to the second routine, if you will, cross-jab combos…Fiona?"

His trainee climbed down from her perch on the stairs and after pushing the heavy bag out of the way, began demonstrating the series. Cordelia fell into step behind her.

"The least you could have done was spring for fans," she grumbled. "It's hot down here."

"Heat makes the muscles more pliable," said Sam. "Gives you better range of motion, the limits of which we're…"

"Psychology," said Angel, appearing out of nowhere.

Cordelia paused, mid-kick. "Huh?"

"Your arts elective," he said kneeling at the bottom of the stairwell and balancing a clipboard on his knee. "I'm filling out your LACU registration forms. Did we decide on psychology?"

"Philosophy," said Cordelia, resuming the kicks.

Fiona, now finished the lesson, wandered to the sidelines to watch the action.

"Keep the abdominals tight," she coached, absently reading over Angel's shoulder. "It protects the lower back, and we all know how impor…journalism?" She paused. "Why on earth would you study THAT?"

With a grunt of effort, Cordelia launched into a rapid punch series.

"A visit from an old acquaintance had me thinking," she said. "A press pass, loads of free stuff and that wonderful 'working on a story' excuse to set my own hours…"

"Don't lock the elbows," said Fiona. "There you go…"

Cordelia tensed, then swung from the hips. "Why are we doing this, again? If I wanted combat training, I'd get Angel to…"

"Of course," said Sam flatly, looking up from his screen. "And although I'm…delighted…that he has chosen to join us, I can't help but feel that since you've only allotted us two hours per day for our work, I should like to have them uninterrupted…"

She crumpled to the floor with a sudden shriek of pain, and the watchers were on their feet instantly, fiddling with their controls and readouts. Neither paid the slightest attention to Cordelia's writhing squirms.

Angel rushed to her side and folded her into his arms with unabashed tenderness. "It's okay," he soothed. To the watchers, he said "You said she might not get them anymore."

"There's a lot we still aren't sure about," said Sam. "Fiona, the orb of Thaliesen if you would…"

"Oh god, Angel, there's this girl," rasped Cordelia. "Bar near Hollywood… lizard something…"

"I'll find it," he said. "Are you…"

She closed her eyes, then opened them again, body softening. "It's already fading," she said with delighted surprise. "Still hurt like hell when I was having it, but it isn't lingering like it used to." She gave him a hopeful smile. "Side effect nine million of the fusion?"

"Fascinating," said Sam, scanning through the latest readouts on his screen.

"Yeah," said Cordelia with an arch smile. "I can see you're all choked up."

Angel was halfway up the stairs. "You sure you're…"

"Yeah," she said. "I think we might call it a day down here. Suddenly, I feel like pizza…"

"Now, Cordelia," began Sam.

"Stuff it, watcher-boy. I'm tired, and I'm starved, and I'm calling it a day."

She was turning to leave when Sam cleared his throat.

"Very well. We'll make up the time with a field trip on Saturday, then."

She bristled. "What?"

"A lovely little spot in the country," said Fiona. "Take the training outdoors for awhile, see how you manage…"

"Manage," Cordelia repeated suspiciously. "What…?"

"Testing your sun tolerance," he elaborated. "See how you perform in the heat and glare. See how quickly you burn…"

"How quickly I…you WANT to hurt me!"

"No, no," soothed Sam. "Well, all right, yes, but it's for your own good, my dear. We need to test the full range of your vampire attributes. Better that we learn, in a controlled setting, then be surprised later…"

"Is it? I think I'll take my chances, if it's all the same to you! Didn't care too much about surprises when I got the visions, did you? Let me figure THAT one out by myself…"

"Now, now," said Fiona. "We had nothing to do with that."

"Exactly! And I did just fine, didn't I?"

"Now, come on," said Sam. "You must realize that we are dealing with an unprecedented confluence of magical attributes here---vampire blood, gypsy magic and a direct connection to the powers-that-be…look, you agreed to submit to our tests, Cordelia. You understood that there might be some discomfort involved…"

"Not this," said Cordelia firmly. "This is crossing the line…"

She turned on her heel, but he was blocking her.

"I'm afraid it's not up to you."

She looked at Sam. She looked at Fiona. Then she looked at the stairs and screeched "Angel!"

"He's already gone," Fiona smirked. "He can't help you."

With a shrug, Cordelia moved her gaze heavenward and squealed "Dennis!"

The watchers went flying in opposite directions, their limbs flailing into the wall with a satisfying smack.

Cordelia folded her arms smugly. "You were saying?"

**

Sweat dripped off her brow in rivulets. Her little band of minions stood nervously at attention, waiting for the morning briefing, but Lilah Morgan---basking in the authority of being boss---sprawled limply in her very expensive chair with a groan.

"What I wouldn't give," she drawled. "For just an hour at the beach.."

"Oh, come on," said Spike impatiently. "It's not THAT bad, is it?"

She inched upright just enough to see over the top of the desk.

"Huh," she said. "It's HOT!"

"And? You're going to let THAT stop you? Come on, woman, you call yourself a big bad?"

"No, YOU call me one. I think it turns you on or something."

"Lilah…"

"It's HOT, Spike. I can't MOVE. I don't CARE about Angel or the plan or the mission, I just want to lie in the ocean and not be so HOT!"

He smirked lasciviously. "Like you could help it…"

That snapped her suddenly to attention. "Don't even think about it, bucko!"

He folded his arms and perched on her desk triumphantly. "Well, now that you're awake…"

Lilah sighed. "Guess the beach will have to wait," she said. "All right, Spike. What is it?"

"Well, for one thing, it's been awhile since I've had anything decent to eat. Was thinking maybe I'd take out that witch of yours…"

"Jenny Calendar is vital to the plan, Spike," she said firmly. "You know that."

"Is she? Looks to me like all she's done so far is sit around like an antler on a chaos demon: pretty enough to look at, but really, useless."

"She's still adjusting," said Lilah. "That was a powerful spell we did…"

"Bollocks. I think you brought her back wrong, Lilah. I think THAT'S why she's still riding the clueless train."

"Now, Spike," soothed Lilah. "There is plenty of latitude built into the plan. We're still…"

"Are we? You know what, Lilah? I'm starting to think maybe there isn't even a plan. That you're just kind of…winging it. Stringing us along like a big…like a big faker!"

"Really? Well, I think YOU are an impotent, power-hungry little toad who's far too impatient to follow through---and I don't just mean in the bedroom."

Harmony rolled her eyes. "Here we go," she muttered. "Bitchslap, the next generation…"

"Agggh!" groaned Spike. "Bloody women! You," he pointed at Harmony. "Are a stupid, brainless little bint who couldn't cross the STREET without a bloody guru. And you," he pointed at Lilah. "Are the most infuriating, irritating, barely evil little tramp I have EVER laid my eyes on in my entire PATHETIC undead life. Now, what have you got to say about THAT, hmmm?"

Lilah sipped delicately from a can of ice tea.

"I say," she said slowly, "That maybe my father was right after all. I should have been a lifeguard."

**

Cordelia bounded up the stairs and headed straight for the fridge, rummaging through the contents with increasing frustration.

"Ahem," said Wesley behind her. "Is this what you're looking for?"

He held up a tupperware container with the remains of last night's take-out pizza. She practically lunged for it.

"Yum. God, Wesley, I don't know what it is about wearing myself out that makes me so hungry, but this really…"

"I noticed. Cordelia, Angel paused on his way out to inform me that you've had a vision."

"Yeah? So?" She ripped off a piece of crust and shoved it in her mouth with almost feral hunger.

"So…a vision is a physical exertion that's linked to your mystical attributes, just as that fire was. And THAT made you hungry also."

Cordelia frowned. "So every time I act superpowery, I'm gonna want junk food?"

"Not as such. But it does seem like your new powers consume energy in ways you are not yet used to. I suspect that's why your cravings have been for fatty foods. Ice cream, pizza…your body is trying to recharge itself after it's been exhausted."

She snapped up another piece of pizza and chomped it ravenously. "So that's bad?"

"Not bad, per se. Just…interesting."

She swallowed, then raised an eye thoughtfully. "I don’t think I like the way you're saying that, Wes. Sounds almost watchery, you know?"

"Cordelia…"

"I know, I know, you TRY to be cool, but sometimes your stuffy Brit-ness just seeps through anyway. We're cool. But Wes…you think we can keep this little insight away from Laurel and Smarty for awhile? They're getting a bit too mad sciency for my liking."

"Fair enough. And if I may ask you a favour as well…"

"Okay…"

"Keep a lid on Phantom Dennis, will you?"

"Hey! How did you…"

"You aren’t the only one he likes. But Cordelia, you do understand…if he makes things difficult, they'll simply move you out of here. On OUR turf…well, there are lots of people who can watch out for you, but we can’t do a thing if they move you away from us."

She nodded and shrugged, then dove into the pizza with renewed vigor. The last thing she wanted to be doing after the day SHE had was think about unpleasant things.

**

Twilight streaming through the window, golden hair fluttering softly in the gentle evening breeze…stray strands of it matted down in sweat-stained concentration as Buffy Summers dug her nails into the scorched mushball of burned rice at the bottom of the frying pan…

She barely glanced up, as the door swivelled open. “Where were you?”

Dawn returned her frown with a wounded pout. “Geez, will you chill? You weren’t here when I came home and I felt like having some company for once, so I went next door to play with Kate’s new puppy, and we…”

“Kate has a puppy?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Look, just cause YOU don’t like her doesn’t mean she’s evil, okay? I mean, she’s loved by kids and puppies, the woman must be doing SOMETHING right…”

“You’re not a kid.”

“So I keep saying. And yet…”

Buffy squirmed. “When did Kate get a puppy?”

“This afternoon. The woman does have a life, you know. Unlike some people…”

Buffy motioned to the smoking pan. “I cooked.”

Her sister glanced at the rancid burn with an unfazed shrug. “Uh huh. So do we order the pizza now, or did you want to wait and have Giles over?”

“Giles won’t BE over,” said Buffy gloomily. “Tomorrow’s the anniversary of the ascension of the demon Sfhyhd, and he’s staying open late for the last-minute shoppers.”

“The Demon Sfhyd,” Dawn repeated, shaking her head. “Do I even want…”

“Like Jesus, except he wasn’t martyred and there were no crosses. Big deal, if you’re a chaos demon, apparently.”

“Oh. Buffy?”

“Hmmmm?”

“I had a really great time with Kate and Bruiser this afternoon, and…”

Buffy smirked. “That’s the puppy? Why does it not surprise me that Kate would name it that?”

“…and it had me thinking,” continued Dawn. “That maybe something like that is just what WE need.”

“Really.”

“Just that you’re so busy, what with the slaying and the Giles and stuff, and it had me thinking maybe I need a project too. You wouldn’t need to do ANYTHING, Buffy, I’d take care of it myself, and pay for it out of my allowance, and…”

“Whoa,” said Buffy. “Let’s back up here for a second…”

“Come on, Buffy, it’d be fun,” pleaded Dawn. “And,” she added pointedly. “I think it would REALLY contribute to my stable home environment.”

Buffy winced. Dawn had already had two meetings with the school’s guidance counsellors, and “stable home environment” was a favourite phrase of theirs.

Buffy sat down at the table and ran a hand through her hair. “It’s not that simple,” she said. “Dawn, a pet is just a huge commitment, a huge financial…and emotional…commitment. I’m not sure I can…I just don’t have a whole lot extra to give right now…”

“It’s not for you,” said Dawn, a faint glimmer of anger creeping into her tone. “”What part of ‘my own project’ were you not understanding? This is for me. Buffy, I want to.”

“I know, just…things are finally settling down a little, and I’m…I’ve been feeling so overwhelmed lately, and Giles doesn’t even LIKE dogs…”

Dawn froze. “Giles doesn’t live here,” she said.

“Well, I…not yet, he doesn’t. He might some day.”

“Some day where we are SO not going there,” said Dawn angrily. “Buffy, this whole you and Giles thing is still REALLY new for me. We don’t know that you and him are---that you’ll---a lot is still up in the air, you know? And somehow, adding a Fido to the family just seems a whole lot less complicated than adding a father, you understand?”

Buffy closed her eyes. “Can we talk about this some more?”

Dawn finally had enough. “That’s so not fair! You know, you’re not THAT much more mature than I am, why do YOU get to make all the calls?”

“I’m not making ANY calls,” said Buffy stiffly. “Except to talk about this later. And Dawnie, if you were really as into making the grown-up choices as you say you are, you’d realize that’s the only option right now. I’m tired. It’s been a long day. Can we talk about this some more later, please?”

“Fine,” pouted Dawn. “If that’s the way you’re going to be…”

She turned and stomped up the stairs, leaving Buffy alone in the kitchen to ponder her dinner choices.

**

The bar was hopping, and he almost didn’t hear the phone ring.

“Hello?”

Silence for a moment, then, a small, hard voice. “Well. You’re there.”

He tugged on the cord and dragged himself into the back office. “Kate?”

“I’ve been leaving you messages,” she said flatly. “Guess you’ve been busy.”

He sighed. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea! Angel’s about ready to kill those watchers, Cordy’s got school in less than a week, and Phantom Dennis has been a little twitchy…”

“And they needed you,” she finished limply.

“I…yeah, they did. Katie, are you okay? You sound…”

“A little snippy? Hell, yeah. You aren’t the only one who’s been having a busy week, Lorne---as I tried to tell you, in the messages I left you on multiple occasions.”

He felt his gut clench with guilt. “Oh, Katie, I’m sorry, I just haven’t been checking, I truly, truly haven’t…”

“Obviously. Which is too bad, cause I think you might have been interested in some of my activities---for business reasons, at least, even if you could care less on a personal level.”

“Now, that’s not fair. Katie, you know that’s not fair.”

“Do I? And how would I be knowing THAT if you won’t TALK to me? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“I…” He backpedaled, abruptly touched. “You were worried?”

“More than you seemed to be about me,” she said with magnificent venom.

He winced. “Katie…”

“Stuff it, Lorne. Three days ago, I might have been interested in stammery apologies, but now that I finally have you on the phone and I realize that your excuse is NOT ‘I was lying in a ditch somewhere,’ I just want to take care of business and be on my way, if it's all the same to you.”

”Now, wait a minute,” he snipped. “It’s NOT all the same to me at all. You’re chewing me out cause I got a little busy? I hadn’t thought we’d reached the stage where a few missed messages meant something, Kate.”

She swallowed hard. “I hadn’t either.”

He closed his eyes. “Kate?”

She swallowed a mouthful of air, suddenly emotional. “I know we haven’t been…haven’t been intimate, not the way you’ve wanted to, at least. And I’ve been difficult, I know I have, and I guess I didn’t realize…I missed you, Lorne. You take me out for a fancy dinner, you wine me, you dine me, we stay up all night talking, and then I go back to Sunnydale and don’t hear a word for days and days and days…”

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“And I got WORRIED. Then I got angry. For god’s sake, Lorne, I MISSED you!”

“Katie…”

“And not only that, but I’ve been busy too---burning both ends of the stick milking my buddy on the force for all he’s worth---I can’t get involved like this, Lorne. You know I can’t.”

“Um hm.”

“But something…god, Lorne, we really need to talk, don’t we?”

“Seems like.”

“I need to see you.”

“I know.” He closed his eyes. “Twenty-four hours,” he said. “I have some loose ends to tie up…”

“It can’t…it can’t wait?”

“You know, it really can’t. Sometimes, it can’t.”

“Tomorrow,” she said.

“Sunnydale by supper-time. Kate?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you,” he said.

She hung up the phone.

**

Wesley appraised the tangled mess of weapons and equipment curiously, then stepped over a pile of boxing gloves and toward Cordelia, who lay crouched among the cast-offs, utterly, sweatily exhausted.

“It’s nearly suppertime,” he said softly.

She blinked, as if coming out of a trance. “Huh?”

“It’s nearly dark. You haven’t had enough yet?”

She shrugged and climbed to her feet. “There are no windows down here. You lose track of things.”

“Guess so.” He eyed the motley collection of scattered weapons and props. “Working off some steam?”

“Grrrr, those watchers!” she seethed. “I wouldn’t mind so much if they’d just TELL me what they’re doing, but no, they have to be all cryptic ‘oh, very interesting’ and ‘oooh, yes, we’ll try THAT with her tomorrow’ and I’m all ‘what?’ and they’re all meaningful nods and smug little smirks of…” She pounded her fist into the heavy bag, then dropped her eyes, half-frightened, half-embarrassed. “Still working out the kinks of that demon temper,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Oh, I absolutely,” he agreed, idly fingering a discarded boxing glove. “And shouting at Phantom Dennis only does so much?”

She sighed. “Oh, Wesley…they keep telling me it’ll get easier…that I’ll get used to it, that I’m just really feeling it now cause the sensations are still so new. But so much has changed, so fast…”

“Not all of it for the worse,” he pointed out.

She sighed. “I know. Guess I just need these little reminders sometimes…”

He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. “Angel should be back any minute now. I can take care of things down here if you want to get…”

“God, Wesley, you’re a doll!” She hopped up the stairs with a squeal of delight.

He neatened the last of the weaponry and gathered some stray equipment to be stowed upstairs. When he reached the lobby, Lorne was waiting for him.

**

The shower clinked on in Cordelia’s room, but Angel’s sensitive vampire hearing could still pick up the faint scuffles of undressing: she hadn’t gotten in yet. If he hurried, he could catch her before she washed off the sweat…

With a silent smirk, he pushed open her door and snuck up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist before she could tell what was happening.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Angel?” She spun her head around far enough to lean in for a kiss. “Are you…did you just get back? Was it all okay?”

“Girl rescued, and with minimal trashing of the trendy nightclub, no less. You proud of me?”

“Hmmmm.” She traced an emerging bruise on his jaw. “And this?”

“There might have been a tiny scuffle on the way home.”

“Angel!”

“What? I had NO way of knowing that the kitty cats had moved to THAT dumpster…”

“Kitty cats?” she interrupted. THAT’S how you got all banged up?”

He squirmed a little and gave her tense shoulder an appraising squeeze. “Guess I’m not the only one who did some scuffling.”

“If it’s any consolation, I won. The heavy bag’s not exactly the most creative opponent.”

“Cordelia…”

She shrugged out of his embrace. “I know, I know.” She nodded to the bathroom. “Shower’s gonna go cold on me.”

“Better that way.”

“But we can’t…”

“Why not?” He looked heavenward, briefly. “They’ll stop us if we go too far.”

“But I’m still all sweaty.”

He licked his lips with a lascivious smirk. “I know.”

**

Wesley put down his carton of supplies with measured, careful calm.

“What is it?” he asked.

Lorne hopped up off the floor, where he had been sprawled in idle wait. “Hello to you too,” he said. “And I’m tempted to go with ‘insulted’ for the terse little greeting, but if the vibe I’m sensing is strong enough that it’s even affecting you, I think I’m going to go with freaked out instead.”

Wesley exhaled. “It IS something, then. I thought I was simply feeling residual tension from all of the changes around here. I assumed that’s why you’ve been avoiding us…”

“And I’m sorry about that, amigo. If I’d known you were picking up on things, I might have come to you sooner…” He shrugged. “Guess I underestimated you.”

“Story of my life.” Wesley cleared his throat awkwardly. “So there IS something, then?”

“There is. And it’s something I’m not quite ready to tell the kiddies about…so I’m coming to you because Kate’s my only other neutral, and she isn’t so good with all of this, to tell you the truth. Magic, vampires, raisings…”

“Raisings,” pounced Wesley. “You found out what it was?”

“Worse. I found out WHO it was…”

**

Her skin was still burning, the warm tremble of freshly worked muscle thrumming through the bones, the heat of intimacy charging them, softening them fluidly as she bended into his body.

“Skin to skin,” she whispered. “Angel, they’ve never let us get this far…”

“Shhhh,” he soothed. “They’ll stop us if they want to, just relax…”

His bare, cold finger traced the curve of her hips, then moved across her stomach in slow, rhythmic circles. He pressed his hand into her thigh, more daring now, more loving, more warm and pliable, even him, even his cold, smooth skin, warming up, melting brazenly into her.

**

“Going on six years,” Lorne began. “I still remember…I hadn’t been in Los Angeles for more than a week or two, but I had yet to have a single second of panic or regret or culture shock. I was loving every minute of it. And Caritas, as you know it now, was still a good few weeks from being all the way finished, but as an act of faith, on the very evening in question, I’d hung the sign…”

He smiled. “So I’m in there sorting some inventory, and this young lady happens by---and she has this one-night stop-over in the city before she’s literally off to face her destiny…that sign in the darkened window---well, it must have really seemed like---a sign…”

“She understood Latin, then,” observed Wesley.

“She understood a lot of things that in hindsight proved unusual. That she should choose to spend her last night of real freedom there…”

Wesley fidgeted impatiently. “Well, what happened to her?”

“That night? Not a heck of a lot, actually. Trading drinks and memories and email addresses with a stranger---she was deep enough into the fantastical, even by then, that I’m not sure the demon thing even registered. And of course, I smelled the magic on her the second she walked in…”

**

He was unspeakably gentle, less of a thrust and more a tender bob and weave. She drew away a little, then relaxed, then drew away again…in the back of their minds, they were both waiting for those higher powers that looked out for such things to intervene and stop them, but the moment was so beautiful, so transcendent. Surely, they would let them have it. Surely, it couldn’t hurt…her arms flailed backward as he pressed himself toward her, and she grabbed a fistful of his hair to steady herself. He was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t even wince in pain.

**

“She died,” said Wesley. “You can’t be raised if you haven’t…she died, didn’t she?”

“That’s not all she did. You ever ask your buddy Angel about that time his soul went awol?”

Wesley swallowed, eyes wide. “We’ve all heard the story. What he did to Buffy…what he did to Giles…”

“Giles lived, Wesley. But Jenny…” Lorne sighed. “That’s what makes this so difficult. I tried to throw them a hint the other night, you know, testing the waters? And they both shut down. This went way beyond a bad memory, Wes. It was like an oozing, open psychic sore. Hit them in the gut, both of them---him, because he knows what he’s capable of and it terrifies him, and her because a nameless wench in the 18th century is one thing, but this was a victim she KNOWS.”

Wesley rose to his feet and began pacing. “All right,” he said. “So they’ve brought her back, and…my god, Lorne, how did you FIND her?”

“She found me. She was pretty out of it for the first few days, but she played dumb for awhile so she could eavesdrop---then she heard Lilah talk about you guys.”

“I knew it!” said Wesley. “I KNEW those lawyers were up to…”

“Well, obviously. It was her that did the magic swap back at Cordelia’s,” Lorne added off-handedly. “Lilah’s potion was supposed to knock him out completely---paramedics would have checked for a heartbeat, then tagged him DOA. By the time he’d wake up and find his way out of the morgue, Cordelia would have been…”

“Oh.”

“Umm hmm.”

“But how did you…if she”

“They freaked her out a little,” said Lorne. “Obviously, she hadn’t known where Cordelia had ended up, but hearing THEM, of all people, linking the poor kid with Angel…”

“But…”

“Then she found MY name linked on the Angel Investigations web site and figured I’d be the safer bet. Truthfully, she wasn’t quite comfortable about the Angel thing, and I still haven’t fully convinced her he’s safe again. But Cordelia, she figured, had to be an innocent…”

“She tried to warn her,” marveled Wesley.

“At first. Then she asked me to help her escape. Poor thing…she has to enchant the computers so they don’t detect her using them, and it’s really draining…”

He coughed nervously. “Wesley, I told her to stay there.”

Wesley stopped mid-pace. “What?”

“Gosh, this is hard…but we talked it over, and she was willing to make this sacrifice, for now, at any rate. She’s not in any danger---whatever it is they’re planning, they need her for it. And if it’s something worth raising the dead for…”

“It might be helpful to have a person on the inside?”

“Exactamundo. Poor little thing…but Wesley, what do I do about Angel?”

**

Skin on skin. She reached out to him, like poetry, like dancing. In the back of her mind was the slight hesitation of imminent fear, but she let herself get swept away again, and she touched him, as he was touching her. He had not given the sweat a chance to dry, and under his touch, she was clammy. Big, strong hands squeezed her thighs, pressed electric fingers onto her, into her…she let herself get swept away again.

Hand on hand. He let her withdraw, then thrust himself again at her like a samurai. She moaned beneath him, skin sticky, so unbearably touchable he could almost get lost in it. Skin on skin. An electric tingle of lust coursed through him, and he thrust himself again and let himself be lost.

Heart on heart. He pulled away this time, an agonizing lance of agony clenching his chest as he fell to his knees. No. No…not like this, not with her…he saw her stumble away from him, eyes half-knowing fear and half-flaming anger…at him, at herself for so carelessly forgetting…with a cry of distress, she reached her hand toward him, and he felt the strangest mental tug as she pulled him back again, whole, restored and loved. They rolled onto their backs for a moment, panting with exertion, before she turned to him, very scared, very small.

“Angel? Was that…”

“Felt like.”

“Did you…”

“Yes.”

“Then how…”

As one, they jumped to their feet, lunging frantically for the staircase and screaming for Lorne.

**

Buffy pushed open the door to the magic shop and scanned the darkened store with mounting worry.

“Giles?”

He coughed slightly, and at last, she could make him out: a limp shadow, hunched at the research table, eyes closed.

“Hey,” she called softly. “I figured you’d be about ready to close up by now. You didn’t call.”

He might have shrugged, but in the darkness, she couldn’t be certain.

She sat down beside him. “Hey,” she said again. “Everything okay here?”

He fidgeted. “Long day.”

“Uh huh. Got busy?”

“You could say that.”

“Where’s Anya?”

Finally, movement. He pressed a hand to his forehead and turned to her. “What?”

“Anya,” she repeated. “Your employee?”

“I sent her home.”

“I see that. Why?”

He blinked. “What?”

“If it’s THAT busy here…Giles, this is why people have employees. To do things for them, so they don’t work too hard and make their girlfriends worry.”

“Oh.” He turned away again, eyes scrunching closed. “She wanted overtime.”

“You can afford it. Giles, what’s going on?”

Then she noticed the books on the table. “Is this what it was about? You sent Anya home because you didn’t want her seeing this?”

He jolted to alertness long enough to snatch the book away from her.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” she said. “Anya talks. Anya talks, and you didn’t want her telling us about…” she squinted, the book just barely about of reach. “About…Giles, what IS that?”

“Let’s not talk about that now.”

“Giles…”

“It’s personal,” he said, voice uncomfortably pleading. “Buffy, please…it’s late, I’m tired…”

“But…”

“Let it go,” he said softly. “Please, just let it go…”

“All right,” she said carefully, watching him with wary eyes as he stuffed the book into his briefcase. She forced a smile. “Well, the day WAS long, but it’s over now. You coming home with me?” She winked flirtatiously. “We could unwind…”

He sank his head into his hands, and she could swear she saw him wincing. “No.”

She looked more closely, and for a split second, she saw through the strong, stoic façade to the little boy inside, too tired, too spent to think beyond his basic primal needs.

“Poor guy,” she soothed. “Let me take care of you.”

“Buffy…”

“No arguments, mister. Your place. Shower, pizza, beer, bed.”

He nearly fainted with relief.

**

In the Hyperion’s lobby, Lorne and Wesley faced off.

“We understand each other, then? Under wraps, for now?”

“That’s best, I think.”

Lorne nodded, satisfied, then spun abruptly and ducked Wesley’s head beneath the desk.

“Lorne! What are you…”

He hissed a ‘shush’ under his breath and beamed a thousand-watt smile at the sweaty, undressed pair that tumbled down the stairs and landed at his feet in a bewildered, naked heap.

“Well,” he said with a delighted smirk. “’Bout time you two figured things out.”

Wesley bobbed up from the floor, then quickly averted his eyes and squeaked “What on earth is going on here?”

Lorne rooted briefly through a filing cabinet and came out with two blankets, which he tossed at Angel and Cordelia.

“They’ve done the deed,” he said calmly. “Haven’t you?”

Cordelia shriveled with a miserable whimper of acknowledgement, instinctively curling up in Angel’s arms.

“Hey, it’s okay,” soothed Lorne. “I told you the curse wouldn’t be a problem for long, didn’t I?”

She nodded slowly, still clearly dazed.

“But you thought you’d lost it, didn’t you?”

Angel looked up, eyes dull and serious. “Something happened,” he said. “I forgot. I lost control, I let myself…why am I still okay?”

“That’s kind of obvious,” said Lorne. “What we’re seeing here is one more manifestation of the fusion.”

Cordelia bolted upright. “WHAT???”

“Well, it isn’t sex per se that activates the curse,” Lorne explained. “It’s perfect happiness. And while Angel can achieve REGULAR happiness on his own, it’s darned near impossible to achieve PERFECT happiness without a strong emotion behind it. That’s why so far, sex has been the only trigger---for love, you need another person.”

“But aren’t I…”

“Uh huh. But Sweetheart, you didn’t just get Angel’s blood, you got his magic too---and that, my dear, is confusing the mystical sensors just enough to give you your loophole.”

She shook her head. “That doesn’t…Lorne, HOW?”

“Think of it this way,” he said. Mix oil and vinegar, and what do you get?”

“Salad dressing?”

“Got it in one. But mix oil and oil, and…well, all you get is…more oil.”

Angel slowly pieced it together. “So I can’t lose myself with her, because she’s now too much like me?”

“Your magic is in her, Angel. She’s like your mystical shadow, a karmic identical twin. And twins…well, twins, you can’t even tell them apart through fingerprints.”

Angel’s glance fell to the still shell-shocked Cordelia. “And that’s why the curse didn’t activate? Cause she’s…” He spoke softly, realization dawning. “She got the curse too?”

“Well---yes and no. It’s like your other vampire traits---it’ll manifest in her in a lesser form.” He shrugged. “If it’s like the other ones, it’ll probably just make her really hungry. I wouldn’t worry.”

Angel relaxed, clearly relieved.

“Now, you understand,” said Lorne sternly. “That this does NOT let you off the hook, by any stretch? This loophole is only with her, amigo. Perfect happiness with ANYONE else and you still go bad, capiche?”

He nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Okay.”

“All right, then.” Lorne reached for his coat. “I’m still in hot water with my own gal…if I get there early, I might win points.”

With a wink at Angel, he disappeared.

**

She settled him comfortably, one hand holding his slice of pizza at the ready, the other gently running fingers through his still-damp hair as he nuzzled into her.

“Ummmm.”

She smiled. “Better?”

“Some.”

“Is your head still hurting?”

“Quite a lot.”

She squirmed. “Can we talk anyway?”

He closed his eyes. “You can.”

“All right. I’m worried about you. Ever since we got back from L.A….you’re shutting me out, and if I wasn’t so worried, it would probably piss me off.”

“I’m not…”

“You are. You call, you visit, you patrol, but you won’t stay over, and you won’t…you know…”

She pursed her lips together thoughtfully. “It’s like you’ve been holding back a little, ever since Dawn found out.”

“It’s been a long week,” he suggested. “I’ve been tired.”

“Oh, please. You’re scared, aren’t you? After she came down on you like that?”

“It’s hard enough for her right now.”

“And you don’t know what to do about it?”

He hesitated, then gave a slight nod.

“Oh, Giles…I know things are hard for her, and not just on the us front, but she’s got to learn to deal with it. Other people’s lives don’t start and stop on her account. We try, and maybe a little harder than she does cause she’s the kid and we’re…well, not so much. But…look, I’m not claiming to the big kid-expert here either, but doesn’t this just feel like it’s making it worse?”

She shifted underneath him, accidentally banging her knee into his skull. He inhaled sharply and bit back a whimper.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said, a little frightened. “God, Giles, it’s okay, we can talk about this later if you…look, maybe we should call it a night. Let you sleep that headache off…”

He twitched, an ominous something running through his eyes. Suddenly, she put it all together. “That’s it, isn’t it? You haven’t BEEN sleeping! It’s not the work, or the slaying…”

He nodded weakly to the discarded briefcase. “You may as well look.”

The pizza by now long-abandoned, she flipped open the briefcase and pulled out the book from earlier. “Dreams,” she read. “THIS is what it’s all about?” She fixed him with a business-like stare. “Giles, when was the last real sleep you had?”

“Friday.”

“Six DAYS? You haven’t slept properly in six DAYS?”

“Think backward,” he suggested. “What were we doing six days ago?”

Her eyes widened. “The Hyperion! I spent Saturday with Cordy, so Friday was the last night we…wait, what did YOU do on Saturday?”

“Got massively drunk and woke up on Sunday with a killer hang-over.”

“Oh. Do I even want to know?”

“You really don’t.”

“But Giles, that’s…you really haven’t slept since then?”

“Fits and starts. But really? No.”

She glanced at the book, then, slowly, at him. “Nightmares?”

He nodded. “That research…I thought I could stop them,” he said. “A potion, a tonic…” He closed his eyes. “I can’t sleep alone. Since we’ve…since I’ve had that, with you…it’s harder now, to sleep alone.”

She gently ran a finger down his cheek. “You don’t have to. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You had enough on your mind.”

“And you were a large part of that, mister! Did you think I wasn’t noticing how you’ve pulled away? Did you think I wasn’t freaking out a little? Giles, you can’t do that! You can’t just shut people out cause you want to be stubborn or brave or invincible. Let me take CARE of you!”

“For how long? You can’t be with me at every moment, Buffy. Dawn needs you.”

“So? Move in with me, and then she could have us both.”

He froze. “Buffy…”

“I know she’s been a little off with you, but Giles, avoiding it doesn’t seem to be doing anyone any good. You love me, right?”

“I do.”

“And you won’t leave me?”

“Buffy…”

“We’ve already been through so much together,” she said. “What could possibly make you think it would go wrong now?”

“That’s not…”

“I think it is. You still think you’ll damage her, damage ME by somehow disappointing us. And all you’ve ever had to do is let us in a little. Do any of us have to be hurting like this? Did it ever occur to you that maybe it would be GOOD for Dawn to have you around?”

“I can be difficult,” he said.

“As your present behaviour is amply demonstrating. But does it really look like it’s scaring me away?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice almost not cracking.

“I know,” she said. “I love you.”

She shifted his weight in her arms and settled in for the night.

**

Spike sucked lazily at his bag of blood, tapping his feet impatiently.

“Well,” he said. “Almost daylight. Guess I should go get some sleep.”

Lilah shrugged. “Guess.”

He shook his head. “THAT was too easy. No ‘But Spike, I need you?’ No ‘But Spike, we have a lot of work to do?’”

Lilah shrugged.

“Come on, love, what’s going on?” he demanded. “What’s next? Does that plan of yours involve ANY action at all?”

“Of course. Just waiting for a few things to fall into place is all. There’s some supplies I’ve requisitioned…”

“THAT’S the big hold up? You’ve requisitioned some bloody SUPPLIES?”

“I work for a law firm, Spike. These things take time.”

He growled something unintelligible, and Lilah gave up. “Well, if you’re so anxious for a rumble, why don’t YOU go start one?” she suggested. “Go…go spy on them or something, I don’t know…”

“And have you start the real action as soon as I’m gone? Don’t think so, pet. In for a penny, in for a pound, I am.”

Lilah shrugged. “Suit yourself. Although…”

“What?”

“Might be good to get some intelligence on them. Last contact you’ve had is going on a few weeks old….”

“So?”

“So, a lot’s changed since then, and they might be vulnerable. Their old buddy Spike, returning from his failed…reunion…with Harmony…aw, poor baby. And maybe he’s been snubbed by the evil lawyer…”

“Lilah!”

“Or maybe he’s not,” she qualified hastily. “Maybe he’s got the latest news on her…her nefarious plans! Yes, that’s right. And maybe he’s willing to help them out, give them a heads-up out of the goodness of his evil little heart…”

Spike glowered. “Don’t think so!”

“Oh, come on, a little misdirection, some harmless---well, okay, not really---practical jokes, I’d think you’d be…” She smirked suddenly. “Oh, I see. You just don’t want to leave me.”

“That so?”

“You LOVE me. You can’t BEAR to be apart from me.”

“Goddamnit, woman!”

She leaned closer, inches from his ear. “You know,” she breathed seductively. “I find spies VERY sexy.”

“Now, pet, I…”

“I do,” she insisted. She gave his ear a tiny lick. “You spend three days away doing this little thing for me, and I’ll…well, let’s just say that I’ll be VERY happy to see you when you come back.”

“I…awwww…”

“Maybe a little TOO happy,” she emphasized. “If you know what I mean…”

He drew away thoughtfully. “Three days? All I’ve got to do is play nice with the slayer for three little days?”

“Well, you don’t HAVE to…”

“No, no, I could…”

“Really?”

“Sure, I could. Three days. This is my thing, I can do it.”

“Well, if you really want to…”

He backed away from her, stumbling into the hallway. “Oh, sure. Absolutely.”

She wiped the insipid grin off her face the second he cleared the door. “Well,” she said aloud. “That was almost TOO easy.”

She hurried down the corridor to check on her other projects.

**

Wesley pushed open the doors to the Hyperion and instantly felt the burn of eyes upon him.

“Oh, it’s only you,” said Sam.

“Morning, Wesley,” chimed in Fiona.

“Where is she?” growled Angel.

“Morning,” he supplied warily. “And what?”

“Cordelia,” Angel hissed. “Where…is…she?”

Wesley put down his briefcase. “Well, I certainly don’t know. She’s not… I mean, I assumed you…well, that after last night…”

Sam snapped to attention, eyes glimmering interest. “Last night?”

Angel paced the lobby in long, mean strides. “She ran out,” he said after a moment.

“She…what?”

“Said she was tired…I put her to bed. Ten minutes later, I went to check on her and found THIS on her pillow.”

He thrust the note in Wesley’s face--- three words only. ‘Don’t wait up.’

“Angel, I…”

“Spent the whole night looking for her,” he growled. “Went to her old apartment…searched the whole hotel…tried Giles, even.”

Wesley glanced out the window. “She left the car, Angel. She can’t have gone far.”

“She has a training session scheduled for eight o’clock,” interrupted Sam. “And it is absolutely imperative…”

“Well, then,” said Wesley. “Good thing she still has 11 minutes, isn’t it?”

On cue, the door burst open and Gunn strolled in, Cordelia behind him.

“Morning,” he chirped. “Y’all lose something?”

Angel’s voice was low enough to nearly growl. “Cordelia…”

“Morning to you too,” she said dispassionately. She strolled straight past him, and to the watchers. “Let’s go.”

Angel gave a low hiss, and Gunn took a step backward. “Don’t go blaming me,” he said. “Don’t know what kind of fight you two had, don’t want to know.”

“A fight?” muttered Sam. He made a note on his pad. “Really?”

Wesley glowered at the watcher, then turned on Gunn. “Is she all right? What happened?”

“She just showed up,” Gunn explained. “First thing she did after having a shower and eating half my food was suggest that I might have a…and this is a direct quote here…an elsewhere to be. Like I said, I figured she’d had a fight or something with Angel and needed a place to cool off.”

“Then you…”

“Spent the night in my buddy Abraham’s basement,” he said. “Came by first thing to check on her, and she was already dressed and ready to go.”

“I have training,” said Cordelia. “Can we…”

“Hold on just a second here,” said Angel. “You run off for the entire NIGHT and think you can just…”

“Just what?”

“Well, we…Cordelia, last night…”

“What about last night?” said Sam eagerly.

“Shut up,” Cordelia said. Then, to Angel, “Last night may have changed a lot of things, Angel, but I don’t think my ability, my RIGHT to set some boundaries is of them.”

“It isn’t, I…you still have your own room…”

“Sure, my own room. And my own ghost to spy on me for my own good, no offense, Dennis? Angel, that’s not the kind of space I’m talking about. I had a lot to process. I just needed to…I don’t know, not be here for awhile!”

“Why is that?” said Sam. “What’s…”

“None of your business,” snapped Angel. Then, to Cordelia, “I was worried.”

“I left you a note!”

He bit back a smart remark. “Cordelia…”

She flattened him with a defiant stare. “So we need to talk, okay, okay…” She eyed his tensed and prowling frame suspiciously. “But Angel, you aren’t the only one who needs to work off a little steam first. I’m going to go train with the watchers, and while I am doing that, you’ll get some sleep, have some blood and get whatever shouting you need to do out of your system with Wesley.”

“With me?” squeaked Wesley.

She pulled him aside. “Gunn doesn’t know.”

“Ah.”

“I just couldn’t face answering questions last night, Wesley, and I don’t even want to THINK about how we’re going to tell Buffy…just stall him, for now?”

He sighed. “Cordelia, I’m not sure I can handle being in the middle here.”

“You’re not,” she said. “I promise, I’ll meet him for lunch and make with the make-up, but can you just get him through the morning, please?”

He paused only slightly before reluctantly nodding his ascent.

**

The first faint slivers of daylight peeked through the edges of the curtain, and Buffy Summers stirred gingerly, trying not to wake her companion. Unsuccessfully. In the second her eye wandered to the creeping light, Giles snapped awake.

“Buffy.”

She smiled down at him and tousled his hair. It still had been damp when they had finally fallen asleep, and it had dried into spiky clumps that stuck out in random directions.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Feeling better?”

He grumbled assent.

“You gonna move your head out my lap now?”

He hefted himself upright, drawing the blanket around himself.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said. “You’re decent. And it’s not like I haven’t seen it already.”

He tightened the blanket further.

“Oh, I get it. This is some kind of manly vulnerability thing? Can’t let the woman see you after you were all weak and needy with her?”

His scowl was ferocious.

“You’re a lousy morning person, you know that?” she teased.

He lowered the blanket, instantly chastened. “I’m sorry. It was…it was very nice of you to stay.”

“Why wouldn’t I? This is how people do relationships, Giles. They do things when their partner needs them to.”

“And I imagine they don’t lord it over them forever either,” he grouched.

“We’re about five minutes into the morning after here, Giles. That’s not even close to forever.”

“I’ll stop now,” he said sheepishly. “Before I get myself into further trouble. I’m inhuman before I’ve had my cup of tea.”

She leaned over again and gently kissed the top of his head. “I’ll put the kettle on on my way out,” she said.

“Your…way out?”

“There’s only one shower here. And I haven’t seen Dawn all night, so I’m letting you have it.”

He stiffened. “Of course. I’ve work soon, anyway.”

She nodded. “And you’ll be over after? I’ll talk to Dawn, it’ll all be fine…”

He hesitated. “Yes,” he said. “I’ll be over after.”

She nodded. “I’ll start clearing out some space at home for you. You can’t go another week with no sleep, Giles.”

“Buffy…”

“I’m gonna need you too, you know,” she said sternly. “So no more attitude, okay? One of these days, I’m gonna need you too, and I’m not going to be embarrassed about it either. This is how people do relationships, Giles. Do you understand?”

“Yes…”

“Great, then. See you later, alligator.”

She hurried home, so wrapped up in the night’s experience that no other thought crossed her mind until she came home to find her little sister eating pancakes in the kitchen with a green-skinned anagogic demon.

**

The sounds of crashes and grunts echoed through the lobby of the Hyperion, and Angel, ear pressed to the basement door, drew away with a smile.

“It’s just fighting,” he told Wesley with obvious relief.

“Oh. Just.”

“Well, I thought she was mad at me. I thought she would…I don’t know, break down or something.”

“Oh, of course,” said Wesley. “And what she’s doing right now is so much healthier?”

“Well, how else would she work through it?”

Wesley sighed. “She might talk to you, for one thing, instead of leaving me to do it for her.”

“Wesley…”

“She’s not mad at you, Angel. She’s scared.”

“I know…”

“No, I don’t think you do. Angel, you had over 200 years of gloriously dangerous free will before the Powers-That-Be took any interest in you. But Cordelia…she’s barely 21.”

Angel lowered himself to the floor, back slumping against the wall in guilty dejection. “I know.”

“And of course, she’s got the regular issues on top of that,” continued Wesley. “You know, does he love me, do I love him…although, since you don’t entirely have other options in that regard, it doesn’t much matter in her case, does it?”

Angel’s fist clenched hard enough to nearly draw blood. “Cordelia…”

“Still,” said Wesley cheerfully. “If you think she’s handling it…”

They both jumped as a hideous crash sent tremors through the floor.

**

“An omen,” groaned Buffy. “Oh, god, why are you here?”

Lorne and Dawn traded amused glances. “You can calm down, supergirl,” said Lorne quickly. “It’s nothing personal. Well, not for you, anyway.”

“Kate’s mad at him,” Dawn explained.

“No, she’s not,” said Lorne. “We just have some things to work on. And I came here to do that only to find my sweetie missing in action.”

“She didn’t come home last night,” Dawn elaborated. “I found him camped out on her porch, all shivery and unfed. He spent the night here. We played Rummy.”

Buffy blinked. “Oh. Well…good?”

Lorne took a step back. “Okay, okay, I can see I’ve worn out my welcome…”

“No!” said Dawn. “I mean…I’m allowed to have friends over if I want to. You don’t have to leave just cause SHE’S shown up…”

“Actually, I do. You aren’t the teensiest bit curious about where she’s spent the night?”

“With Giles, so?”

“So…vibe I’m getting is I’m not the only one with personal business, cupcake. I think I’d better leave you two to talk.”

“Lorne, what…” Dawn spun on Buffy. “What’s he talking about?”

“Got me,” said Buffy. “Kinda lost me at ‘nothing personal.’ Dawnie, can we talk?”

“Don’t suppose Kate’ll turn up before dinner,” said Lorne, slowly backing towards the door. “I’ve got some other business to take care of while I’m in town, kiddies. Toodles.”

Dawn waved him away off-handedly. “Buffy, what is it? Is something wrong?”

“Don’t think so,” said Buffy. “Actually, I think it will be good for us.”

Dawn froze. “What will?”

“Giles. He’ll be good for us.”

“Uh, okay…”

“He’s moving in,” said Buffy.

“He’s…what?”

“It’ll be good for me. It’ll be good for US. He’s moving in.”

“You can’t just decide that!”

“Why not? Life is short. We all could die tomorrow. Why shouldn’t we be happy?”

“It’s not…Buffy, we’re not gonna die! And we’re NOT happy!”

“But we could be, if Giles was living here. He’s good for us.”

“So you keep saying. Buffy, this is so screwed! Don’t we get to talk about this?”

“We ARE talking about it,” said Buffy calmly. “Dawnie, if he had his way he’d just show up and start living here. I’m at least making an effort.”

Dawn clenched. “Oh, sure. Like that’s really gonna sell me.”

“I’m trying,” said Buffy. Dawnie, please…I’m trying to have a real conversation with you.”

“No, you’re not. If this was a real conversation, my feelings would count for something. I’d get a say!”

“They do. I want…I mean…”

“Shut up! You’ve already decided, Buffy. Nothing I say is going to make a difference!”

Buffy slumped, voice small and tired. “Will it really be so bad?”

Dawn took a gentle step toward her, then changed her mind and crossed her arms defiantly. “Maybe not,” she said. “But I’ve just been completely rail-roaded here, so I’m gonna say this while I have the excuse: I really hate you sometimes, Buffy. You suck.”

She grabbed her bag. “I have school. Anything else you want to say?”

Buffy mutely shook her head.

**

“Fabulous,” said Sam Zabuto, eyeing the wreckage of the pummeled heavy bag. “Excellent response times, Cordelia. Either your reflexes are more advanced than we thought, or you’re simply…in a mood this morning.”

“Bit of both,” she admitted. “More?”

The watcher shook his head. “I think that’s quite enough for now, don’t you? Actually, my dear, we’re moving more quickly than I anticipated. We’ve collected almost all the data we need.”

“Really? So you’re gonna leave soon?”

“Maybe one more week,” he said. “There’s one more test we still have to run. Fiona, if you will…”

His assistant hesitated. “Are you sure she’s ready?”

“Not entirely. Only one way to find out though…”

“Ready for what?” said Cordelia.

“But Sam, if she’s…”

“We talked about this,” he said tightly. “She has to learn.”

“Learn what?” said Cordelia.

“But it’s barbaric,” whined Fiona. “Sam, if she’s…”

“She’ll manage.”

“Manage what?” said Cordelia. “What are you guys talking about?”

Sam crouched to her eye level and awkwardly patted her hand. “You won’t like this very much,” he told her with uncharacteristic sympathy. “But it’s for your own good, my dear. Please try to remember that.”

He then fumbled among his supplies for a large, sealed container roughly the size of a laundry bucket. He fiddled with a vacuum seal and withdrew the lid.

Cordelia felt her limbs fall out from under her, muscles turning to sand.

“Oh god…”

“Control yourself,” Sam commanded. “You must learn.”

“Oh god, oh god…”

“You must learn,” he insisted. “You must learn to rise above your impulses. They only hit you so hard because you still aren’t used to them.”

She twitched, eyes scrunching closed, hands clenching. “Oh god…”

“You must learn,” Sam repeated. “It’s only blood, Cordelia.”

She gagged and buried her face in her sleeve. “Stop…”

“I won’t,” he said firmly. “Angel has learned to control his bloodlust. You can too.”

She clawed blindly for traction, jellied fingers scraping at the floor. “Help…”

“Not so fast,” he said, holding out one restraining hand to Fiona, and the other in the general direction of the wall, where Phantom Dennis was nervously rattling the broad-sword. He crouched beside her. “I know you’re hating me right now, but Cordelia, it’s for your own good, it truly is. This is your trigger, and the only way to conquer it is through exposure. You must learn to build your tolerance, for your own safety if for no other reason…”

Her fingers curled. “Don’t wanna…”

“You must,” he repeated. “If you are in battle with a nefarious demon and someone bleeds, you’ll fall to your knees, utterly useless? You would leave yourself---leave Angel---defenseless, because you were…hungry?”

Fiona grimaced. “And let’s not imagine the horrible PMS she’ll have if she can’t handle a little bit of…”

Cordelia whimpered, then shook her head. “Noooo….”

“You can,” said Sam gently. “I’ll teach you. You’ll practice.”

“Angel…”

“Will be a wonderful example for you. I sympathize, I truly do---if these readouts on my monitor are any indication, you’re in terrible discomfort right now, but Cordelia, this is far too important a matter to coddle you on.” he stepped away from her. “You will not leave this room until you can calm yourself down sufficiently to do so under your own power.”

She took a deep, trembling breath. “I hate you,” she said.

“Wonderful,” he told her. “Focus on that, then. It’ll take your mind off things.”

**

Angel crept softly down the stairs and into the basement, stepping gingerly over what looked to be the feathery remains of the biggest pillow fight L.A. had ever seen. The stench of blood was strong enough to make him stagger.

“Cordelia?” He squinted, trying to make her out. “Cordelia, are you all right?”

“Quiet,” she hissed, voice oddly tense and controlled. “Give me a minute…”

She sat in the centre of a foam exercise mat, legs crossed, eyes closed in deep meditation, breath flowing in and out in smooth, even rhythm.

“Cordy? Is everything…”

She made an impatient gesture, and he stepped away again when, from beneath the mat, a timer sounded. She slowly opened her eyes. “New watcher thing,” she explained. “Trying to raise my tolerance to blood. Ten minutes a day…” She stretched, then climbed to her feet, a little shaky. “You want it? Not sure how fresh it is, but…”

He shrugged, took the jar from her hand and drank. “Thanks.”

“Whatever, it’s better than having it lying out there where I can smell it. I think the watchers took the rest of it with them, thank god, the smell drives me crazy…”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re practicing,” said Angel.

“I know, I know, that’s what THEY said. Only way to up my tolerance is through exposure. Whatever, I’m starved. Do we have any food?”

“Thought we could go out,” he said. “Maybe have that talk you promised…”

Her façade of cheer abruptly evaporated. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Cordelia…”

“Oh god, you’re doing it again, you’re just gonna trail off like that and let me ramble until you get it out of me. Well, forget it. I’ve been training and I’ve been sniffing blood, and I’m going to faint if I don’t eat something NOW.”

He reached behind his back and pulled out a granola bar, waving it in front of her with a triumphant smirk. She pouted, then snatched it from his hands. “Fine.”

“Fine. So, good morning, for starters.”

“Ummmm.” She crunched the granola bar, crinkling the wrapper distractedly with her fingers.

“Rough night,” he said.

“Yeah. Sex for now and ever-after. You must be real broken up.”

“I am. I never wanted to hurt you, Cordelia.”

She sighed. “You gonna go all brood-monster this-is-all-my-fault over this? Well…forget I said anything, then, it’s not your fault and you didn’t hurt me, okay? Are we done?”

“Don’t brush me off, Cordelia. We have to talk about this.”

She stretched out a kink in her back and began pacing. “Guess we do have a lot on our minds don’t we? A lot of changes going on, and not just the superpowery kind. I mean, Angel, we’re living together. Living. Together. And that would be big even if we weren’t…special.”

“I know…”

“And this whole curse thing…just adds another wrinkle, you know? It kind of occurred to me last night that maybe it’s been a bit too convenient an excuse, for both of us…”

“And now we can really open up to each other,” he realized, following her train of thought. “And you’re not sure if you’re ready.”

“No, Angel, I’m not sure if I even CAN. I don’t have the greatest track record with this kind of stuff.”

“Me either.”

“And that’s another thing,” she continued. “The magic that made you that way---that’s in me now too. The vampire stuff. The gypsy stuff. So what does that mean? What does that make me?”

He reached for her. “Oh, Cordy…”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go all melodrama on you, Angel, I really didn’t. Look, maybe we just need to give this some time to, I don’t know, sink in or something, take things slow…”

She stomped through the training room, absently tidying as she talked, and she stopped short with a rueful smile when she saw her LACU orientation package. “This probably isn’t the best time for me to be starting something new, is it?”

“Of course it is! I mean, school, that’s…you know, interesting, and…and fun, and hey. meeting new people, always good…”

“Wesley talked to you, huh? Let me guess, something about how with all the changes in my life it’s more important than ever that I maintain connections to regular people?”

“Pretty much those exact words,” he admitted.

“And normally, I would agree, but Angel, in the time since I started just thinking about school, I’ve already crashed into three ghosts from my Sunnydale past. That can’t be a good omen.”

“That’s not…”

“Really? You’re telling me that the Powers-That-Be have better things to do than meddle with my piddly little life?”

He lowered his eyes guiltily, and she sighed. “I figured. Angel, I don’t want to think about this now. The last thing I need is more stress in my life.”

“Then we’ll have to make it wonderful.”

“Oh, Angel…” She huddled into his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist. “We need some time today, don’t we? That whole couply-nurtury thing…”

“Ummm. Like what?”

“Can we sleep for awhile? I didn’t really, last night…”

“Me either.”

“And dinner, maybe candlelight and fancy Italian take-out , and wine, lots of wine…”

“Ummmm.”

“Just remember, bucko, that not everything has changed. I still get to set the pace here.”

“Ummmm.”

**

Seconds past nightfall, Buffy clomped through the back door and into the kitchen, greeting her sister with a curt ‘Where’s Giles?’

“Oooh, feeling the love,” snitted Dawn. “Yes, I had a lovely day at school, thanks for asking.”

Buffy sighed. “Dawnie, I’m sorry. We just…had a pretty intense night last night, and I was worried he’d freak out on me and bail. He said he’s coming here.”

“And he will,” said Dawn. “But I think he was waiting ‘til you were home. Cause I’m so rough to be alone with.”

Buffy paused her rifling through the fridge long enough to dismissively kiss the top of her sister’s head. “Uh huh. And that attitude’s really helping.”

Dawn shied away. “Right. Cause I’m the one who isn’t being mature here. Buffy, come on, you sprung a new stepdad on me, like, this morning, and I’m supposed to just go ‘oh, okay?’”

“I thought you liked Giles. I thought you’d reached an understanding.”

“We reached an understanding on the dating you and coming over for pizza sometimes part. Guess I thought we had a bit more time to work on anything more complicated.”

Buffy sighed. “Dawnie, I’m sorry, I really am. But I know he’ll be good for us, right?”

“So you keep saying. Look, are you actually trying to cook dinner there, or are you just trolling for finger foods?”

“Trolling for finger foods. My spidey-sense is tingling and I want to do an early patrol. Look, you can eat with Lorne or something, 'kay? Isn’t he staying here?”

“He was, this morning. Buffy, Lorne’s busy. He has to go hunt down Kate or something.”

“Oh. That sounds fun. Look, just…I don’t know, order a pizza or something, ‘kay? And be nice to Giles when he comes home?”

“Sure,” said Dawn. “I’m always nice.” But she was speaking to an empty kitchen.

**

Lorne climbed easily to the top of the tree house and to his lady’s side.

“Hey,” he said.

She turned her face to him. “So. You’ve found me.”

“Wasn’t hard. You DID come home last night, didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “Can’t sleep sometimes. So I come up here. Dawn’s not the only one who likes to look at the stars.”

He nodded. “You okay?”

“Maybe. But business first, all right?” She took a deep breath. “Lieutenant Summerset, LAPD.”

“Your friend on the force?”

“Uh huh. He had a sister, Marlena…we were kids together, and she went through a rough patch way back when, around the same time I did.”

“Rough patch? Katie, when did you…”

“Business first, Lorne.”

He hesitated, then reluctantly nodded assent.

“We went through a rough patch,” Kate continued carefully. “And I came out of it a cop, and she came out of it a mother…”

“Oh, sweetie…”

“She tried,” said Kate. “God bless her, she tried. Took some continuing ed classes, got a paralegal cert…and a job at one of the city’s leading law firms…”

Lorne winced. “Wolfram and Hart?”

“Bingo. And two years later, Marlena is dead and my buddy Summerset is three-men-and-a-babying his little niece. And those lawyers Marlena worked for? Not a peep. Not even a lousy bouquet at her funeral, and he knew it in his cop gut that something was fishy, so he started digging. And six months later, he wasn’t a single father anymore.”

“Oh god…”

“Don’t know how he got the stuff he gave me. Don’t think I want to know, either. But it paints a very interesting picture if you know what to look for…”

“Katie…”

“He doesn’t know what to look for,” she finished flatly. “It’s yours. I did my bit, Lorne. Bad enough you were involved, bad enough Cordelia, but god, I didn’t expect to get Marlena’s ghost too…”

He reached out for her. “Sweetheart…”

“This is scaring me, Lorne. I always thought Marlena…I mean, I knew she had a rough go sometimes, but I just never thought…never thought she was involved in anything like this! I thought she was…”

“Normal?”

“Innocent.” She closed her eyes. “She died knowing that there was real evil out there, do you know how sad that is? The magic, the monsters…I don’t know how they handle it,. kids like Cordelia, like Dawn…you go along thinking that the world works a certain way, then fate comes along and pulls you out of line…”

“Happens to all of us,” he said. “Maybe not on such an…an epic level, but sooner or later…”

“I know.” She relaxed, put her head on his arm. “You’ve been so patient with me. Why have you been so damned patient?”

“Fate pulls you out of line. I don’t know how I did it, but I fell in love…”

She stiffened. “Not sure it works that way. Did you ever think…I mean, ME and YOU…”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, that isn’t fair. It hasn’t only been cause you’re a demon…”

He held her silently. He has suspected as much.

**

Giles pushed open the heavy front door and carefully crept inside. Dawn was sitting on the couch, schoolbook propped open on her lap with a bowl of potato chips.

“I’m not doing anything bad,” she said quietly.

He sighed, and sank into the nearest chair. “Never said you were.”

“I know, but you were thinking it. Tiptoeing in, back all straight and tense and waiting till nightfall cause you thought Buffy would be here…”

He sighed again. “Am I that transparent?”

She adopted a deep, affected British accent. “You have been in Afghanistan, I presume.”

“I…what?”

She held up her book. “We’re reading Sherlock Holmes, in English class. His first words to Watson were ‘You have been in Afghanistan, I presume.’ That whole deductive logic thing, you know?”

“And you are practicing deductive logic on me?”

She shrugged. “You don’t make it very hard. Figured you and Buffy talked today. I can pretty much guess what she told you.”

“Really.”

“So I freaked out on her a little. It doesn’t mean I’m bad, Giles.”

“Never said it did.”

“Giles, you don’t HAVE to say things. I never knew anyone in my entire life who could slouch so meaningfully.”

He exhaled. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. Look, you want to live here? Fine, have fun. But just remember that you are not my parent any more than Buffy is. I still have a say on things. Oh, and if you EVER hurt us? I can make you sorry.”

She picked up her book and her food, gave him an angelic smile and flounced upstairs. Giles waited until he heard the slam of her door before he took off his glasses, brought his knees to his chest and silently wept.

**

“Evening, pet.”

Buffy froze, then spun around slowly, stake in hand. “Spike.”

“You call that a welcome?” He held out his arms. “How about a hug for the old Spike, hmm, Slayer? A little welcome home…”

She pushed past him. “Whatever. Had a feeling something was up. Figures it would be you.”

He pouted, genuinely hurt. “You didn’t even miss me a little?”

“Should I have?”

“You’ve already moved on with another man?”

“I didn’t need to move on, Spike. We were never going out.”

“A minor detail. Look, love, there’s still time. I mean, it’s not like you’re shacking up or anything…” He studied her expression carefully. “You ARE shacking up! Since when? Bloke heads out of town for a few weeks, and next thing he knows…”

“Since today. Not that it’s any of your business…”

“With watcher-boy? I’ll kill him!”

“Sure. Like that’s really gonna win me over.”

He kicked a nearby tree in frustration. “Slayer, I admit it, I could never figure you out. All these years I try and I try, nothing ever good enough for the likes of you…what the bloody hell do you want from me, Slayer? Hmm?”

“Well, the going away and leaving me alone thing was a really a swell start. Should have known it wouldn’t last…where WERE you anyway?”

He grinned. “Knew you cared. Fact is, I ran into an old friend of mine. She’s up to no good, Slayer.”

“Really. You know, I’ve kind of heard this one before, Spike. You’re gonna have to do better than that if you honestly want me to…”

“Look, she really is, okay? Fell in with some unsavouries, she did, but l’il Spike played tag-along cause he knew you’d want to hear about this…”

She sighed. “This isn’t a good time, Spike.”

“Lawyers!” he blurted. “Evil lawyers with dastardly plots of…evil!”

“Sounds fun. What made you leave?”

“I do have other needs. Look, do you want the dirt or not?”

She hesitated. “Maybe. But not tonight.”

“Won’t come cheap, you know. I’ll be wanting blood, and money, place to stay and all that…”

“Something wrong with your crypt?”

He puffed himself up importantly. “What I’ve got to tell you--- worth better than a crypt, pet.”

She sighed. “Fine. But not tonight. You can come to the house tomorrow, but early---Giles and I won’t kill a whole night on you. You come over early, you spill, get paid and skedaddle, understand?”

He mock saluted. “Yes ma’am.”

As soon as she was gone, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed Lilah.

**

They were lying on their backs, looking up at the stars.

“I never told you about Danny-boy, did I?” said Kate, out of nowhere. “First boy I ever loved. Maybe the only…We were kids together. Babies.”

She wrapped Lorne’s arm around her shoulder, eyes trained neutrally on the three tiny pinpricks of Orion’s belt. “My mother was a teacher. Ritzy private school in the burbs, and one of the perks was free tuition for me. Hated it. All those fancy girls in little dresses going on vacation every Christmas, the cliques, the snobbery, the catty little mind games, boys never do that…”

She clenched her fists. “And maybe I wasn’t really happy, but I was okay…”
She straightened, fidgety anger making her squirm. “Until I wasn’t. They cut me off, Lorne. When she died on me, those heartless bastards cut me off. And on my first day at the public high school, who should I run into but little Danny Abbott from church…”

“You went to church?”

“Everyone went to church. And Danny…we found each other, god knows how, call it coincidence, call it accident, call it godamned fate pulling you out of line again, but he and Marlena and I..."”

Kate smiled. “She was the princess. I was the rebel. And Danny-boy was…he was like the battery that kept us all juiced up. We’d go out together on Saturday nights, all three of us, if we could pry Marlena away from the unsavory boyfriend of the moment…those nights, we usually holed up in somebody’s parents basement with a stash of ill-gotten alcohol and rock music pilfered from Marlena’s brother. But Danny and I…he was my sensitive side, Lorne. Never had one before him, never had one after. Didn’t have to be the tough one around him, trying to keep up with glamorous fairy-queen Marlena. Didn’t have to be the awkward, misfit outcast. We just…I don’t know what we did, went to a lot of movies, I guess, and took every thrill out there---rock climbing, biking, camping, and god, the talking…covered all the bases, art, music, poetry, even…”

“And Marlena?”

She sighed. “Our bond was Danny-boy. Without him, without his antics, his charm, his friendship, we would have had nothing to talk about. He was our bridge.” She chuckled wryly. “I’d like to think he loved me better, of course. He was the only…I’d never fit in, never had real friends. And everyone who had ever loved me had left me…we used to joke about that, Danny and I. How our friendship was special. Was magical. How 50 years from now, we’d be sitting there in the nursing home together…”

“What happened?” he asked.

She bit her lip. “People come into your life, then they go out of it. It’s the natural way of things. But he was supposed to be different! He promised we would never…we went through so much together, Katie, and Danny-boy, and Marlena…he ran away to college, after she…but we kept in touch, he and I, and every time we talked, he told me how he’d never had a friend like me, how 50 years from now, we’d be sitting in the nursing home…”

She took a deep breath, then slackened into his arms, depressively spent. “He just stopped, Lorne. One day, he just…stopped.”

“Like the Marlena kind of stopped?”

She shook her head. “Heard through the grapevine that he had a new job and was doing a bit of travelling. He left a message on my machine about six months later at a time he knew I wouldn’t be home. He loves me. He misses me. He’ll call when things settle down…”

She took a deep, shivery breath. “It’s stupid. God, Lorne, you must think I’m so…”

“No, Katie, it’s not. You loved him. You trusted him.”

She shook her head. “It’s more than that. I trusted before. I loved before. But I let him in. I let him hold my life in his hands when we went climbing and he spotted me. I let him hold my soul in his hands when we cried over Marlena’s body. I let him read me poetry, and in the same day, teach me how to shoot a gun. He told me things and I believed them, cause I was tough enough, and I was loved enough, and he was just so godamned important…”

The tears came fast and frantic, and she flinched away from his touch. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…”

“No,” he soothed. “No, Katie, it’s not. I…”

“Stop,” she choked. “Don’t tell me it’s different. Don’t tell me you’ll never leave…”

“Shhhh.” He gently touched her cheek. “I don’t think I have to tell you that, hon. You’re the one who offered ME the second chance here. So what changed your mind?”

“You didn’t call me back,” she said softly. “And I missed you.”

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“No promises,” she said. “Not from you, and not from me either. I still don’t like the demon thing. I still don’t like the magic thing, and I certainly don’t like the getting involved in the cosmic battle between the forces of good and evil thing. But you didn’t call me back, and I missed you. And maybe we can build on that.”

“Maybe.”

“Two conditions,” she said, sniffling out the last of her tears. “Number one, you’ll have to go slow, Lorne. I’m the one who gets to set the pace here.”

“Okay…”

“Number two, you get yourself checked out by one of those watchers you’re so fond of before we get intimate.”

“I…what?”

“Buffy sleeps with a demon, and he turns evil. Cordy kisses one and she gets migraines. I have no desire at all to deal with any of that sort of nonsense, Lorne. There will be no exchange of bodily fluids until a magical medical professional assures me that it’s safe, understand?”

He swallowed hard. “Yes dear.”

**

Cordelia Chase sunk her head Angel’s lap with a contended sigh.

“Ummmmm. Never DONE Kahlua before. Never knew we HAD Kahlua. You got anything else back there?”

Angel gently extracted the shot glass from her hand. “I think you’ve had enough.”

She swatted his arm. “Spoilsport. You told me there would be wine…”

“And there was,” he said patiently, wedging an opened bottle of water into her fingers. “And then there was Tequila. And then there was Kahlua. And now…water.”

Her hand toppled over, and the water spilled out onto his lap. “Don’t want water. Want…”

“What?” he said gently. He moved the bottle away from her before she spilled it further. “What do you want, Cordelia?”

She paled, and attempted to right herself. “I don’t feel so good. I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Probably. Might be better that way.”

She winced and closed her eyes. “Oh god. Why did you let me do that?”

“Cor…”

“Alcohol…is not a good coping skill,” she lectured, punctuating her words with drunken pokes at his chest. “Angel, why did we…why did you let me DO that?”

He shrank away from her a little. “I don’t know. I don’t…don’t know what I was supposed to do.”

She belched loudly, then swallowed hard. “That was one of those double-meaningy type things, I know it was, and if I wasn’t seeing five of you and about to pass out, I think I’d want to talk about that…”

He scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom, bracing her body against his while she twitched and heaved.

**

Dawn, with sufficient stealth to avoid waking up the passed-out-on-the couch Giles, crept gingerly out the back door for some fresh air, and bit back a screech when she nearly crashed into Lorne.

“Lorne! Is everything…what are you doing here?”

He gave her a gleeful hug. “Hey, kitten. You okay?”

She bit her lip, then nodded. “Guess so. Just being difficult.”

“Them or you?”

“Maybe both. Is Kate…”

Lorne nodded happily. “She doesn’t want any nonsense. She’s setting the pace.”

“Okay,” said Dawn, eyes narrowing dubiously. “So she gets to be the complete boss of you, and it’s okay cause you love her?”

“No, kitten, it’s okay cause SHE loves ME. And speaking of, is Giles around?”

“This isn’t more of that save the world stuff, is it? Are we all gonna die?”

“Geez, what is it with you people?” he complained. “I can’t have problems that aren’t about you?”

“Uh…okay…so there’s no apocalypse, then?”

“Didn’t say that. Look, sweetie, there’s no apocalypse TONIGHT, at least. So can I talk to Giles?”

Dawn sighed. “Okay, okay.” She pushed open the door, poked in her head and shrieked “Giles!” at top volume.

Even from a door away, Lorne could feel the karmic wince.

**

Cordelia’s limbs still shook with drunken aftershock, but sprawled on Angel’s soft, clean bed, she had regained sufficient motor skill to prop herself on her elbows and woozily slurp from the water bottle.

“Better?” said Angel.

“Some. That was really stupid, Angel.”

“I know. Like you said, alcohol is never…”

“No, not that. I meant the you sneaking in the significant-talk and thinking I was too drunk to remember to ask you about it later thing. Angel, you should have learned by now not to underestimate me.”

“I…huh?”

“You didn’t know what to do,” she reminded him. She chuckled ruefully. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t either, you know.” She took another sip of water and gulped queasily. “As you can see.”

“So…”

“So where does that leave us? Well, I think coming clean like this is a very good start, don’t you? Okay, so we did the wine and the Italian take-out and we got a little snuggly, and maybe I started freaking out a little cause it hit me again…the you and I thing, and the cosmic loophole and the real chance, and I was scared…”

He looked away. “I was scared too…”

“You were? Cause honestly, I’m thinking you sort of come out ahead in all of this. I mean, you thought you could never love again, and you find out you can, and with sex even, and not that I am bragging, but hey, if you have to have a last-girl-ever, I am pretty cute, and…”

“Stop,” he said. “Cordelia, that’s not it. It’s just…”

“Angel, what?” She sat up alertly, suddenly wary. “What is it, really?”

“Something Wesley said to me before. He was trying to calm me down a little, after you…this morning. And he wanted…wanted me to really understand why this was hard for you. And it hit me again how young you are…”

“Young, but not stupid. Angel…”

“Not stupid,” he agreed. “But maybe a little…naïve? You’ve seen evil, Cordelia, but you haven’t…you can’t understand what I really am…”

“I know what you are. I know what you’ve DONE…”

“You don’t,” he snapped. “Thousands of victims, maybe millions, I don’t know. And you’ve only seen one, Cordelia. One. You can’t possibly understand…”

“That wasn’t you. That demon in you took your soul away…”

“It WAS me. It’s in me, somewhere, somehow, it’s in me. The demon could not have exploited a blackness in my soul if it wasn’t there to begin with…”

“But…”

“You have the curse now too, or at least some manifestation of it. This you and me, this us…it’s forever for you, too. Cordelia, even I wouldn’t want to spend forever with me…”

“Oh, Angel…” She rose shakily to her feet, and he nearly had to catch her. “Okay, so you’ve got evil in you. But you’ve got good in you too, or the Powers-That-Be wouldn’t have chosen you. And they wouldn’t have given us this chance, this loophole…god, when you think about what’s happened to me in the last few years…moving to L.A. instead of somewhere else, and running into you instead of someone else, then Doyle, then the visions and the magic and the scoobies, and…well, there comes a point where you have to stop believing in coincidences, you know? There comes a point when you have to admit that you HAVE been singled out, that there IS a higher plan---you really think this little curse loophole is an accident? You really think it’s not a second chance?”

Now it was Angel who slumped in the pillows. “I don’t deserve you…”

“I don’t think anyone really ‘deserves’ anything these days, you know? But we work with what they give us.” She sighed. “So…you want ice cream?”

He smiled. “A much better coping skill.”

**

Lorne paced the living room. “So, we’re set, then?”

Giles nodded. “Come to the magic shop tomorrow, and I’ll have Anya take care of you.”

“Anya! You can’t handle this yourself?”

“She knows love, and she knows magic. And she’s far less self-conscious than I am about this sort of thing.”

Lorne sighed. “All right, if you say so. Just…hate to put her out is all…”

“Trust me, you won’t. I find it difficult to imagine a project she would enjoy more than examining your…”

“Right. Just that I was kind of hoping to keep this between you and me,” said Lorne. “It’s kind of personal, you know? Is Anya…”

“Soul of discretion,” promised Giles.

Lorne sighed, then nodded assent and gave a small wave to Buffy as he headed out.

Giles smiled. “When did you get home?”

“Long enough ago to have no idea what you two were talking about,” she said. “Is everything…”

“Yes.”

“Was Lorne…”

“This and that.”

“And Dawn?”

“Wonderful.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Really. Cause she told me you were sulking.”

“Was not! Well, not around her, anyway.”

“Doesn’t matter, she knew. Lorne’s been around, and I think they vibe off each other somehow. It’s creepy.”

“Hmmm.”

“So you’re really okay? Giles?”

He sighed. “I admit I might have done a tiny bit of wallowing. Did me good. Got it out of my system, and now I’m just fine.”

“Not sure it works that way…”

“It does. For me.”

Buffy frowned. “I thought we talked about that whole repressing thing…”

“Buffy, I’m fine! Look, why don’t we go upstairs, and I can show you just how fine…”

“Don’t have to ask ME twice,” she smirked. “But Giles…”

“You’re watching me? I tremble in terror at the very thought. Look, Buffy, it’s been a difficult few weeks, I admit it, and perhaps I didn’t handle things with utmost aplomb. But I am finally emotionally squared away and reasonably well-rested, and suddenly find myself with energy to burn…”

“So don’t go ruining it by getting all insecure-girl on you? Giles, I’m sorry, you’re right. Guess I’m still a little jumpy…I mean, I saw Spike on patrol, and it still didn’t shake this funny feeling I have…”

“Spike?”

“I know, I know, how lame is that? But he says he has news for us, and Giles, if he really IS up to something…” She sighed. “He’s coming tomorrow,” she said. “Wanted to check out a few things before.”

“Such as?”

“You know.”

He nodded. “I see. Well, then. Your dereliction of duty in the face of personal concerns seems to have left us with the rest of the evening free…”

“God, Giles, I’m…”

“Kidding,” he said, poker-faced. “Come to think of it, there ARE a few demons I know who are better than most at hooked in to the gossip. Perhaps while I’m at work tomorrow, you can check them out?”

Dawn poked her face into the living room. “Sorry to break up the lovefest,” she said. “But Janice is on the phone. Can I sleep over?”

“Yes,” said Buffy instantly. She turned to Giles. “Anything goes.”

**

Sam Zabuto put down his pen and slid a dagger across the table to Cordelia.

“Are you ready to train now?”

She groaned. “Ready? We’ve been training all morning!”

“No, we’ve been doing word association games and inkblot tests all morning. Which may be well and good and useful, but is NOT ‘training,’” he said grouchily.

She winced. “Don’t shout at me! It’s not MY fault I’m a little…okay, maybe it IS my fault, but still…”

He sighed. “It’s nearly noon, Cordelia. Why, with your accelerated metabolism, I would think that even the most unhealthy alcoholic binge would have worked its way through your system by now…”

“Unless she’s psychologically hanging on to it,” chimed in Fiona. “She IS prone to such dramatics, isn’t she?”

“Well, either way,” said Sam briskly. “Best way to work it out is to…well, to work it out. Sweat away the toxins AND the malaise, hmm?”

“Sam…” she pleaded.

“En garde!” he shouted, rising to his feet. “Fiona?”

Fiona tossed him a dagger, and he took a step toward Cordelia.

“Sam, please…” Cordelia whined.

He put down his dagger with an impatient sigh. “Cordelia. You’ve made excellent progress these last few days---well, when you haven’t let your snitty little moods interfere with your focus, that is. Would it help your motivation any if I told you that I’ve gathered almost all the data I need?”

She looked up at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you’re about ready to keep up the regimen without us. As this morning’s deplorable tantrum of pouting is proving, your mental discipline could still use some work---but you can continue the meditations we’ve been working with on your own.”

“And?”

“And I expect that as soon as I’ve had a proper enough final session with you to satisfy myself that you’re sufficiently under control, Fiona and I will be on our way.” He smiled. “Well, then. NOW do you feel like training?”

She snatched up the sword with an energetic nod. “Bring it on.”

**

Anya slipped on the rubber gloves with an efficient snap, and tapped the three gold stars on her little sketch one by one.

“So, these are the erogenous zones, then?”

Lorne, teetering precariously on a makeshift gurney in the Magic Box’s training room, gave Anya a wary nod.

“But that’s…” Anya squinted. “How’s anyone supposed to navigate THAT one with all the tentacles in the way?”

“They aren’t tentacles.”

She pulled back his waistband and peered into the depths. “They’re…they’re not?”

He shook his head.

“Oh. Well, that makes it easier, then,” she said cheerfully. “Or possibly more complicated.”

Lorne sighed. “I’ve never had any complaints. Can we get on with it, please?”

“Fine, fine, no need to get grouchy with ME. I’m not the one who’s putting you through this.”

“Well, actually…”

“What, you can’t blame her, really,” said Anya. “It’s a dangerous world out there, you know. There are just SO many possible diseases, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone to curse a man with one only to find that he’d managed to pick it up just fine without me…”

“But…”

“And inter-species stuff is always tricky,” she continued brightly. “I mean, first you have the monkeys, which is all well and good, but then you get the Ebola, and we all know how THAT turned out…”

“Um…”

“And then you get the rashes, and the pustules, and the itching…”

“Anya…”

“…and that just makes the sex part LESS fun…”

“Anya!”

“…and since your home dimension WAS a virulent cesspool of filth and chaos…”

“My god, woman, will you shut up!” Lorne finally snapped. “My home dimension is NOT a cesspool. And I do NOT have Ebola!”

She shrugged. “We’ll find that out soon enough. Right?”

“WHAT???”

“No, literally. Right. Right armpit. “ She held up a cotton swab. “I’m collecting secretions.”

“Oh.” He peeled off his shirt and lifted his right arm. “Will this take long?”

“Oh, we’ll be done in a jiffy.” She swabbed his arm, then stuck the q-tip in a test tube. She did another swab behind his left armpit, then methodically began working her way around the horns.

“Is she worth it?” said Anya suddenly.

“What?”

“Your orgasm friend. Is she worth it? I’ve tried for years to understand love, you see, and it scares me because it never ends well. I have it so good with Xander right now…”

He untensed spontaneously in mother-hen sympathy. “Oh, kitten…”

Anya took advantage of his relaxed posture to jam a cotton swab into his ear. “He loves you,” Lorne managed with an uncomfortable wince. “With all his brave little heart, he loves you, he truly does.”

“I know. But is it…worth it?”

“You want the big speech here? The poets and the bard and the Indigo Girls all rolled into one? Well, then. In a word: yes.”

Anya hesitated. “Well, okay then,” she said, smiling brightly. “Are there any other orifices that I should know about?”

**

Fiona Wyndam-Pryce wedged the last of her boxes into the rental car.

“Going somewhere?” said a voice behind her.

She jumped. “Wesley! I…I didn’t hear you, you startled me!”

“When one works with a vampire, one does learn stealth…” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, no, it’s my fault. Suppose I’ve been rather preoccupied,” she admitted. “We’re concluding this field assignment today, and there’s much to…”

“Really? Then you’re…”

“En route to the council field office in San Francisco for debrief and reassignment.” She smirked proudly. “I’m official now.”

“Oh. Um, congratulations?”

She frowned. “You could TRY to be happy for me, at least. I’ve worked hard for this, years of study and training and putting up with that insufferable power-hungry twit Zabuto for the last few weeks…I’ve earned this, Wesley. Just cause the council treated YOU so terribly…”

“They tried to kill me, Fiona. They tried to kill my slayer.”

“Your slayer was asking for it.”

“Maybe she was. And I have long ago made my atonement for MY share of the blame in that, but…”

“Have you? I’ve seen the visitor’s log the prison has on Faith, and there’s only one name on it, Wes.”

“There are other ways to atone.”

“Oh, don’t start! You atone for her actions by fighting the good fight in her place, is that it? Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that just the sort of egotistical, self-righteous hocus-pocus that got you into trouble in the first place? This is a war, Wesley. Good versus evil. Seems to me it doesn’t much matter WHY you fight so much as how well you do it.”

“And that justifies the wetworks? The under-handed, over-secretive, self-important, bureaucratic…”

“Yes! The council does good work, Wesley. They have tools at their disposal that…well, I wouldn’t be working for them if I didn’t believe…”

“…that you could finally best me and win our father’s love once and for all?”

“Now, that’s not fair. Damn it, Wesley, I worked hard for this. It came so easy for you, but I never had the head for such arcanities. I worked HARD, and now…”

“Now you have a chance,” he finished quietly. “But for what, Fiona? To pour that unhardened potential into a futile quest to satisfy a bitter old man and his entitled cronies by buying into an outmoded philosophy that hasn’t seen the real world in years? Or to take what they’ve given you and actually do some good out there?”

“God, Wesley, what do you want from me?” she complained. Her body slumped against the car. “I’ve tried my best, I really have, but much as I loved him, he never lived YOU down. If that made you hate me…”

“I don’t hate you,” he said gently. “I never did. I just never figured out how to get you out from under our father’s thumb for long enough to get a chance to meaningfully relate to you. What do I want from you? I want you to ask the council to station you in the remotest outpost they’ve got. Someplace where it’s not so glossy and prestigious, where you can read, where you can learn without those plodding old men hanging over your shoulder all the time. Someplace where you can make the cause your own…”

She regarded him thoughtfully. “Is that…hard?” In that moment, she let down her guard and she was his little sister again.

**

Lorne skipped merrily over the shrub that separated Kate’s yard from the Summers home.

“Hey, Dawnster,” he greeted. “Hey, Bruiser.”

Dawn was frolicking on the grass with Kate’s puppy and gave Lorne an off-handed wave.

“Hey. You in the doghouse with Kate again?”

“Clever pun, and no, I’m not. We’re going on a date,” he informed her. “And she told me to skedaddle while Willow and Tara got her all glammed up. Mind if I hide here for an hour or so?”

Dawn shrugged. “Suit yourself. Not sure our house is the safe zone you’re looking for, though---Buffy told me to stay out here. Something about Spike coming over…”

“I know,” said Lorne. “Kate was going all little-lady over our date tonight, and your wiccan friends were the only fellow girls she could rustle up to help her on such short notice. Although I’m not sure she would have gone to Buffy even if she WERE free…”

Dawn shrugged. “Whatever.” She sprawled on her stomach, eyes pinched thoughtfully. “Something big is going on,” she told him. “I mean, Buffy’s never LIKED Spike, but she’s never really been scared of him either. But tonight…she’s wigging, big-time.”

“That so?”

“Oh yeah. This isn’t just about playing games with Spike, Lorne. I’m getting vibes.”

He took a step away from her. “Oh boy. We’re doing that thing again, aren’t we? My little psychic battery…”

She smirked triumphantly. “I knew it! Something IS going on, and you know all about it, don’t you, Lorne? So, what’s the what, is the world gonna end or something?”

“Look, sweetie…”

“Cause I’m thinking it has to be something more than that. I mean, we’ve DONE the end of the world. The end of the world, we can handle. But Spike…”

“Spike is not really the problem here,” said Lorne carefully. “Might want to cut Buffy some slack on this one, kiddo.”

Dawn sighed. “And you choose NOW to go Yoda on me? Come on, what is it Lorne? What’s really going on?”

“I have no idea,” he said. He idly held out a hand to Bruiser, and the puppy flinched away with a distrustful whimper.

**

Buffy tornadoed through the living room, duster in hand and expositioning about her day to Giles.

“…and Xander’s off for the week, so he loaned us his truck and I got almost all of your stuff over here except the personal bits, which we’d figure you’d rather do yourself…”

“Buffy…”

“…and now that Willow’s moved out and we have that other room, I thought we could both settle there and use my old room as an office, or a library, or…”

“Will you please slow down!” said Giles. “Buffy, you haven’t stopped moving since I’ve got home, and…”

Buffy froze and drew a hand to her chest. “Giles! You called this ‘home’….”

He fidgeted. “Yes. Um, Buffy, as I was saying regarding your…”

“I’m just so proud of you for settling in so fast,” she gushed, voice cracking tearfully. She idly neatened up a knick-knack as she paced past the coffee-table. “I mean, it’s only been a day, and you’re already…”

“Stop,” he said gently. He rose, and clasped his hand in hers. “You’re nervous,” he observed.

“Well, of course I am! Moving in together’s a really big…”

“No, not about that. About Spike. You’ve been at it non-stop for hours, moving boxes, clearing closet space and going at Xander or Dawn or whomever was closest at miles a minute… you’re nervous.”

“Giles…”

“Spike disappears for weeks, then suddenly turns up again just when you’ve finally begun to get your life together…”

She stiffened away from him. “Yeah. And you know, until now, my aimless busywork was actually doing a pretty good job at keeping the foreboding panic of doom at bay. But YOU had to be all Mr. Percepto and ruin my buzz!”

He sighed. “Buffy…”

“I know, I know, you’re doing your job. You just HAD to remind me that Spike is not a neutered little kitty cat…”

“Actually,” he interrupted, “I was hoping I could get you taken care of, love. You’re rather…running out of things to clean…

She took a deep, centering breath. “I’m okay,” she said slowly. “Chest pain, stomachache, pounding head, but…okay. Cause this is my life, isn’t it? I should know by now that this is how it works. They give you something, and it’s good and it’s right, but they always make you pay for it later.”

He froze. “What?”

“Come on, Giles, you’re telling me you really haven’t figured out why Spike came back NOW? After the night we had…after the things we DID…” She sighed. “Sex with Angel, and he goes evil. Sex with Riley, and he goes wrong. Do I even want to know what sex with YOU will get me?”

“Buffy…”

The door creaked open. “I’m okay, Giles.”

“Buffy!”

“You won’t sort this out with one conversation,” she hissed. “So you may as well just shelve it for now because we have more important things to worry about…”

She clenched her fists and bravely smiled. “Evening, Spike.”

“Evening, pet.” he nodded at Giles. “Rupes.”

Giles glowered irritably. “Don’t call me that.”

“Suit yourself. So, Slayer, what have you got for me? Blood? Cash?”

“I think the question you should be asking is what have YOU got for ME,” said Buffy. “This little powow was your idea, Spike. You claimed you had some information.”

“I do. Hooked up with Harmony again. She’s in with some lawyers…”

“And?”

“And…soon as I realized they were up to no good, I got myself out of there and came straight to you,” he said.

“Right. Out of the goodness of your heart, you came straight to me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Course not. Came straight to you cause I knew you’d pay me for it. So what’s it gonna be, slayer?”

“Let’s see what it’s worth. So, lawyers…these the same lawyers involved in the raising Cordelia saw in her vision?”

“Yup.”

“So what’d they raise?”

Spike casually slung his feet onto the coffee table. “Funny story, that…”

“Short version.”

“Right. They tried to raise a giant hairy hellbeast. Didn’t quite work. So they’re trying again.”

“Really.”

“Uh huh. Only thing is, they’ve burned out that hotspot. They’ll be using a different one this time, I suppose.” He grinned hopefully. “I could tell you where it is for a very reasonable sum.”

“Or you could tell me where it is and I don’t chain you to a lamp-post and immolate you in all that pretty sunshine we’re so known for in California.”

“Right. Well, then. There’s this spot in Colorado, see…”

“Colorado.”

“Yup. You could probably beat ‘em there if you leave right now…”

She studied his earnest face impassively, then marched into the kitchen, opened the back door and shouted “Lorne!”

She reappeared a moment later with the anagogic demon. “Spike says the lawyers want to raise a giant hairy hellbeast in Colorado,” she explained.

Lorne’s eyes sparkled darkly. “Don’t think so, amigo,” he told Spike.

Spike shook his head. “Such slander, why, it makes me downright furious! Don’t listen to him, Slayer. He’s just trying to get in my way. He can’t really read me unless I sing.”

Lorne had his fist at Spike’s throat with near-vampiric speed. “Don’t need to read you on this one, friend. You aren’t the only one with inside information…”

Spike’s cocky grin faltered. “Maybe I should be on my way. Give you a day or two to think about my offer, hmmm?”

He scrambled out the door, and Lorne addressed Buffy and Giles with a sigh of deep resignation. “Well, then. Looks like we need to talk.”

**

Angel wandered into the office and snuck softly up behind Cordelia.

“Hey. I was looking for you.”

She was sitting in front of the computer, hair damp and body wrapped in a fluffy purple robe. Her eyes never left the screen. “I was here all along.”

He fidgeted. “Uh huh. Watcha doing?”

“Sending Giles an email, telling him all about my completely, absolutely normal day…”

Angel tensed. “Right. That.”

Cordelia sighed and pushed the keyboard away. “Oh, is this what we’re doing? Angel, you need to relax sometimes, okay? I mean, seriously…”

“I am relaxed,” he said.

“No, you’re not. First you send Wesley after me because you don’t think it’s safe for me to go buy textbooks for school by myself…”

“Well, evil lawyers, you know, out and about…”

“…then you get all sulky jealous-boy when I have a nice time with him? Do we need to go over the personal space thing again?”

“Cor…”

“Repeat after me,” she instructed. “It is okay for you to have fun without me. Say it, Angel.”

“It is okay for you to have fun without me.”

“And it is okay for you to spend time with other people.”

“And it is…Cordelia, come on!”

“Angel…”

“It is okay…look, is this really necessary?”

“You tell me. Angel, I start school on Monday. And you know what they have at school?”

“Books?” he guessed.

“People,” she told him. “People who I’m gonna need to be talk to and do stuff with on a fairly regular basis. Angel, what if I have to so a group project or something, you’re going to skulk around in the sewer tunnels and scare them away?”

“No! Cordy, I just…”

“I know, I know…just that you feel guilty that you can’t always be there to protect me. Angel, I love you for that, I do---you’re the first person whose ever cared like that…”

He beamed proudly. “I do, I really do.”

“But you have to trust me to take care of myself,” she finished. “I’m not a baby.”

“I know that.”

“And plus…well, it’s kind of nice for me to have a break sometimes, you know? The boardwalk is pretty in the moonlight, but it’s pretty in the sunlight too…”

His brow darkened. “Oh.”

“You’re not…Angel, come on, you aren’t upset, are you? You knew this going in---what you are, what I am---it doesn’t make me love you any less. Just means that sometimes it’s nice for me to be a normal girl for awhile. To go out in a car and not a sewer tunnel. Today…well, I had a nice time with Wes. We had lunch. We went shopping. He bought me ice cream, even.”

“Did he?” Angel smiled through gritted teeth. “Well. I’ll have to remember to thank Wesley for taking such good care of you then, won’t I?”

She slapped his arm. “Hey! What have I told you about jealous-boy? Huh? Huh?”

“That you love Angel,” he parroted obediently. “Not jealous-boy.”

“And?”

“And you can take care of yourself, and you know how to handle things.”

“Right.” She smiled brightly. “Well, then. I’m glad we’re on the same wavelength here.” She shrugged off his arm and glued her eyes to the computer screen.

**

Giles broke off his anxious pacing and propped himself against the doorjamb, back tense and body rigid.

“Go on,” he said coldly.

Lorne’s hands twisted in his lap. “Hoo boy. Look, this is a tough one, even by your standards. And I’m not entirely…well, she wasn’t ready to tell you yet, and I really felt it was her call…”

“Whose call?” said Buffy. “What the hell is going on here?”

“The raising,” said Giles. “It DID work, didn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And it was…us they are after?”

“Well, Angel, specifically. Although they were not unhappy when they learned they’d whammied you too.”

“What are you saying?” said Buffy. “What IS it?”

“Angelus,” guessed Giles.

“His victim,” Lorne clarified. “His most recent victim, actually.”

“But that’s…” Buffy’s eyes widened. “Ms Calendar?”

Giles sank onto the couch. “Dear lord…”

Buffy felt the breath knock out of her. “But that’s…”

“Uh huh. Look, I only found out just after…well, okay, awhile, but it’s not…you understand that I was going to tell you. It’s complicated, you understand that, right?”

Giles nodded, turning on Lorne with flat, cold eyes. He did not untense as he casually shoved aside Buffy’s slackened limbs and rose from the couch, humming a few bars of the Twilight Zone theme song under his breath. He walked out.

**

Angel slumped on the round lobby couch, making shadow puppets against the desk with his hands.

“Are you finished yet?” he called.

Cordelia looked up briefly from the computer. “Hmmm?”

“Your email,” he said. “It’s been, like, forever…”

She rolled her eyes. “Of all people who should know what forever REALLY feels like…”

“Well, are you?”

“What?”

“Finished.”

She shook her head. “It’s times like this I wish you had a last name, so I could yell at you properly.”

He blinked innocently. “Hey…”

She swiveled her chair around to the computer again. “And I’m never going to finish if you keep interrupting me, for one thing.”

“But…”

“And for another…” she swiveled again so she was facing him. “What if I’m NOT almost finished? What if I want to spend the whole NIGHT on here doing work or writing emails or playing Tetris, even?”

“Just…Cordelia, I’m bored,” he complained. “There’s nothing to DO.”

“There’s lots to do. You got by just fine before I came along.”

He pondered this briefly, then decided on a different tack. “It’s just that I love you so much that I…”

“Hold it right there,” she interrupted, wagging her finger in his face. “Don’t think that a line or two of romantic mumbo-jumbo is gonna get you off the hook here. Yes, I love you too. Yes, I love spending time with you. But we don’t have to spend every MINUTE together, do we?”

“We had the whole day apart, Cordelia.”

“And maybe YOU spent all of it pouting all alone in your room or something, but Angel, I was OUT. I was busy.”

“And now?”

“Now, I need to do a little decompress. I’m tired, Angel. It was a long day, and it was a nice day, but I didn’t get ANY work done, never mind the personal stuff. I just want an hour or so to catch up on things and unwind a little, is that all right with you?”

“Cor…”

“Look, go to bed, okay? Get yourself a nice boring book, you love those, and go to bed. And when I’m ready, I’ll come up there and join you and we can do some cuddling, just give me an hour first…”

He nodded. “Okay.”

He was halfway to the stairs before she called him back again. “Angel?”

“Hmmm?”

“That was an hour in, like, general time, not ‘broodily staring at the clock and counting down the seconds’ time, we clear on that?”

**

Buffy stumbled to her feet. “Giles?” Near-drunk with post-shock trauma, her fingers reached blindly for her coat. A strong hand guided her back to the couch.

“Easy, kitten. You’d best stay put.”

“But Giles…Lorne, Giles is…”

“Uh huh.”

“But I should…”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“He’s hurting. He needs me.”

“Actually, he doesn’t. And he isn’t---at least not yet.”

She shuddered. “What he must be going through…”

Lorne sighed. “Are you even listening? He’s not going through anything right now, sweetheart. You’ve seen him do this before---a karmic stasis of sorts. A complete emotional shutdown while he uses his brain to process things.”

“Lorne, he just found out that a girl he loved who was brutally killed by my formerly evil ex-boyfriend than left in his bed as a godamned party favour has been brought back to life by some evil lawyers. You’re telling me he’s just run out for awhile to think things over rationally?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you aren’t the slightest bit concerned that he’s…god, Lorne, once it does sink in, he’ll…something could happen! He’s out there all alone…”

“He’s safe, Buffy---he hummed just long enough for me to get THAT out of him. If he does get hurt, it won’t be from doing anything reckless.”

“He did it on purpose…” Buffy realized. “Kept his soul open just long enough for you to read THAT much, then shut it down like a freaking robot…I’m going after him. Lorne, he wouldn’t shut down like this unless he was really in deep, even you know that…”

“I do. And I also know that if he wanted you to find him, he wouldn’t have hummed that little keep-away. Going after him, doing your girlfriendly bit and ‘being there,’ as they say---right now, that would be a lovely ego boost for YOU, I’m sure, and it might help YOU hold it together---but don’t go kidding yourself that you’d be doing it for HIM. You know what he needs right now.”

“But he’s…”

“When he comes out of it, he WILL turn to you,” said Lorne. “But he doesn’t have it in him to ask for the help until he knows what it is he needs. Let him sort this out his way, and I promise, he’ll come back to you.”

Lorne stepped away from the window, and Buffy winced as an ominous glow of lightening zipped through her. She closed her eyes. “That can’t be good.”

Lorne sighed. “He’s fine. Even in this…look, you’ll be okay, won’t you?”

Her eyes widened in hurt realization. “You’re leaving me? Now?”

“Well, I do have a life, kitten. Even now.”

Buffy shook her head. “Unbelievable. You come in here and drop a bombshell like this, and then you just LEAVE? I thought you were on our side, Lorne.”

“Whatever gave you that idea? Look, sweetheart, I know what I know, I’ve said what I said. There’s really nothing anyone can do right now except wait.”

“You bastard…”

“I’ll let that pass. But only cause I can read you, and I see how much you’re hurting. Look, I’m sorry---I AM your friend, and I WILL help you---but Giles is not the only one who needs a break right about now. I have some stuff at Kate’s that might help---I still don’t know exactly what the black hats are planning, but it’ll be big, I can tell you that much. I think we have a battle ahead of us, kitten---and all of us need to prepare in our own way, you understand?”

The window shook with the weight of thunder, and it began to pour. “I understand,” said Buffy coldly. “Go.”

**

In the night, Cordelia snuggled into him and softly nuzzled his chest.

“Angel?”

He murmured sleepily. “Hmmm?”

“We should tell them,” she said.

He blinked and struggled awake. “Tell who…what?”

She gently cuddled deeper into his arms. “It hit me, when I was down there earlier…this second chance of ours…it’s not just about sex or curses or gypsies, you know? It’s kinda…everything, isn’t it? A second chance…to have as normal a life as freaks like us can have…and I don’t want to screw it up, you know?”

“Um…okay…”

“It’s finally coming together,” she told him. “I mean, I’ve got these great friends, great ghost, great boyfriend complete with spacious, haunted hotel…we’ve finally got the watchers out of hair, and okay, evil lawyers still floating around, but hey, what else is new…it’s almost TOO settled, and I was sitting down there wracking my brain trying to figure out what could possibly blow up in our faces to ruin it, when I remembered. Angel, I start school on Monday, and that’s a huge step for me. I kinda want to go into my future with a clean slate, you know? So I decided we should tell them.”

“Um, Cordelia…”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday, they’ll be home…we could be in Sunnydale by lunchtime, and get this whole thing worked out.”

He slowly pieced it together. “You want to tell the scoobies…”

“Yes, about us. I mean, they already know about us. But not about US, you know? None of them were here when we figured out the loophole…”

“The sex,” he clarified. “You want to tell them we can now have…”

“Right. Well, no, I don’t WANT to, per se. Just…I want to get it over with, you know? It could be…it could be a hard thing to tell them. I mean, Buffy…sure, she’s all over you---well, all over Giles, but all OVER…you know. But still…happiness clause, kind of a sore spot on account of the whole you-turning-evil-and-trying-to-kill-her-friends thing, and if telling them is gonna be an angst-fest…well, I’d rather get it over with BEFORE we ride off into the sunset, you know?”

“Cordelia…”

“Please,” she said a little desperately. “Angel, I know you pride yourself on your deeply rooted ability to avoid and repress, but this is really important. I mean, it’s been a crazy couple months…but it’s settling down now, isn’t it? Her and Giles together, you and me together…it’s almost normal, for us. I mean, even the watchers up and left…and I had this gut feeling there was a loose end somewhere, and now that I’ve figured out what it is…”

The tone in her voice completely melted him. He hugged her tighter. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

**

Dawn pushed open the back door, and, taking care to remain in the shelter of the kitchen, propped it open with her foot and peered into the torrential blackness.

“Buffy?”

Her sister had not moved in over two hours, and at the sound of her voice, clenched shut her rain-lashed eyes with a sigh of pure misery.

“He’s out there,” said Buffy.

“Uh huh. Look, Buffy…”

Buffy squirmed, leadened clothes squishing audibly beneath her. She briefly locked eyes with Dawn, then looked away again, gazing dolefully at the web-like swirl of water snaking through her fingers.

“I’m cold and I’m wet and I’m tired,” she complained.

Dawn nodded. “I know. It’s warm in here…Buffy, just come inside…”

Buffy shook her head. “No, no, no. It must be worse for him…” She sighed heavily. “It’s been long enough. I should go looking.”

“No! Buffy, Lorne said…”

“Lorne says a lot of things, Dawnie. Can’t believe everything you hear…” She gave a hoarse chuckle and tried to bat away a sticky strand of damp, flat hair. “Damn it! It’s so cold…”

“Buffy…”

“He didn’t answer when I tried his cell phone,” said Buffy. “Don’t think he’d be at his apartment either. Maybe the Magic Box?”

“Buffy, you’re…”

“No, too obvious. Well, where would he go? Spike’s crypt? Willy’s?”

“Buffy, you’re scaring me…”

“I’M scaring you? After everything you’ve heard tonight, I’M the part that’s scaring you?” She shook her head. “We REALLY have to up your tolerance, hon. This is NOTHING.”

Dawn took a step back. “I should call Xander,” she decided. “Maybe I should call Xander.”

“Oh sure. Call Xander! He can help me look…there’s SO many cemeteries…you think he’d go there?”

“I think he’ll come home when he’s ready,” said Dawn sternly. “And I don’t think you’ll help him like THIS.”

“What, so YOU’RE the mother now? I’m going to catch my death of cold, is that it? Oooh, dangerous germs…”

“Actually,” said Dawn. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘dangerous sanity,’ but anyway…you’re wrecked. Buffy. Like scarily, mental-breakdowny trashed, and I don’t know if it’s cause you’re worried about him, or whether you’re reliving your own salad days of love-with-the-evil-monster. But this---this helps no one.”

“Word of wisdom to live by,” said Buffy with a manic smirk. “God, Dawnie, how could he leave me like this? I don’t know what to do…”

“Come inside,” said Dawn again. “God, Buffy, just please come inside…”

**

They were halfway through desert when Kate put down her fork with a sigh.

“All right, all right, just call them, will you?”

Lorne leaned forward and gently licked a spatter of whipped cream off her finger. “What?”

“It’s admirable, really, how you tried to pay attention to me, even with the big scary magic stuff you’ve got going on,” said Kate. “And before you get all insecure, I’m NOT mad…I know you love this crap, and I know you tried to put it aside cause I DON’T love it…but damn it, Lorne, you’ve had them on your mind all night, and I wish you would just call them and get it over with already.”

“Katie…”

“Just get it out of your system,” she said. “Take ten, call the slayer and tell her where her stupid boyfriend is, then we can get on with our night without them hanging over our heads, okay?”

“Sweetheart…”

“Look, I need to fix my makeup anyway or something, all right? Get it done, get it over with, then we can go back to my place and REALLY be alone…”

Lorne jumped to his feet with a look of profound relief and raced for the phone, stopping only long enough to give Kate a grateful kiss as he passed her.

**

It was as he said it would be. Buffy had briefly stopped in the tavern to wring out her clothes and ask for directions, but it was as he said it would be: the dingy parking lot edged against a small grassy knoll---at the bottom of which crouched Giles. He had long ago abandoned his glasses in the face of the hurricanic downpour.

“You found me,” he squinted.

“Looks like.”

“Are you…”

“Oh, fine. Ranted at Lorne until he got sick of me and left to go bang Kate, then sat out in the rain for three hours in nervous-breakdowny post-traumatic meltdown before Xander and Dawn dragged me bodily inside to get directions from Lorne to this lovely hidey-hole. You?”

“Wandered aimlessly through the streets until I found myself here. Consumed large amounts of alcohol, then stumbled blindly into the bushes and heaved it all up, finally collapsing at the bottom of this grassy knoll where I have remained until this moment…”

She crouched on the muck beside him. “Next time, we should both try a middle ground, huh?”

He sighed. “Not sure it’s that simple. Buffy…”

“I know, I know, Lorne explained it all to me. You have to do this sometimes. It’s how you cope with things.”

“I never said I was a perfect man. I never promised you…”

“I know. But Giles, I just got so worried! I know you don’t need to hear that now. I know you have enough on your mind, but I can’t help it either. I just…”

“I know.”

“So did you…did you work it out, at least? Are we…”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I know! Which is exactly why I need to talk about it, Giles, I still haven’t figured out what all of this means.”

“Not sure it means anything, really.”

“Doesn’t it? Okay, it’s scary and it’s sad and god knows what they plan to do with her, but on top of all of that…Giles, you were WITH her once. You LOVED her. And now she’s back…there’s not a part of you that’s thinking ‘second chance’ here?”

He shrugged. “Not sure there are ever second chances when love and magic mix,” he said. “In the first place, there’s always a catch. And in the second place…”

“What? Giles, what is it?”

“Well, in the second place, it doesn’t work that way. Fate is not known for redoubling, Buffy. It’s like---like in a dice game, one time you play, and it all comes out on sixes. Another time, sixes will tap you out.”

“So you’re telling me that if you saw her again…”

He sighed. “She died young and tragically, Buffy. There will always be regret---how could there not be? There will always be doubt---replaying it in your own mind, how the dice were rolled and where they fell---but you can’t play the same round again, Buffy. The game doesn’t work that way.”

“Sure it does. I died too, Giles. I was brought back too.”

“You did. And you changed us both for it, I’d daresay---the game is different now. They’ve given me a second chance with YOU, Buffy---I’ve already got my free pass. They won’t give me another one.”

“But do you…do you want one? Giles, she could have been the love of your life! You’re telling me you don’t wonder…”

“I’m telling you I CAN’T wonder. Nobody can, or they would simply go insane---there are too many roads not taken, too many roads closed off…”

“So how do you work it all out, Giles? How do you crawl into bed at the end of a night like this with your head in one piece?

“I’m not sure I entirely do,” he said. “I’m an old man sometimes; I have too many ghosts in my head.”

She touched him gently. “Just tell me what to do…”

“There’s not much you CAN do---except to understand that such is the way of things, and let me be in pain sometimes.”

The rain was finally letting up. She gathered him into her arms and pulled him under her jacket, hugging his body tightly to preserve warmth. She could not tell if his shivering was from shock or pain or cold---or if his face was wrecked with rain---or tears.

**

8: Growin' Up

The radio blared into being at the first shadow of sunlight.

Cordelia groaned and hid her ears beneath the pillow. "Too early for Springsteen," she whined. "God, turn it off..."

The click of the alarm mechanism had triggered Angel's sensitive vampire hearing seconds before the music filled the speakers, and he was already well-alert and propped on his elbows, watching Cordelia with some amusement.

"Never too early for the boss," he teased.

She scrunched her face and buried it deeper in the pillows with a petulant whimper. "I am not a morning person. Turn it off!"

He held the blaring radio just out of her grasp. "You do it."

She batted an ineffectual hand at the radio. "Come here, you."

He held it further away. "But I like this part." He tapped his free hand against Cordelia's temple, in perfect time to the music. "I combed my hair 'til it was just right, and commanded the night brigade..."

"Stop singing!" she whined. "And you're so just trying to get me out of bed!"

"Which, ordinarily, would not be the ideal way to begin my morning, but Cor, if we want to get to Sunnydale and back in one day..."

"I know, I know, early to bed, early to rise makes a girl conscious in time for the spur-of-the-moment roadtrip..."

He frowned. "Don't yell at me."

"Angel..."

"I'm doing this for you. This was your idea."

"I know! And I'm not, and I'm...god, it's too early, I just...just give me a few minutes," she said.

She kicked off the sheets and padded into the hallway. "Coffee, then shower, then...Buffy?"

She stopped cold. The slayer was gloomily pacing the lobby, muscles sprung like a jungle cat and eyes glowing all-business.

**

Lorne jolted awake at the sound of the doorbell.

"Lorne?" called Kate sleepily.

"Got it," he called upstairs. He stumbled off Kate's sofa and winked through the peephole, then opened the door with a sigh.

"Anya."

She beamed chirpily. "Hello there, little demon."

He heard Kate stumble blearily to his side. "Lorne? What's...Anya? Is everything..."

She read the anxious looks on their faces. "On, no," she reassured them. "I bring GOOD tidings." She waved a manila envelope under Lorne's nose.

"I came right away so you could maximize the sex time," she explained. "Ran tests for all the standard medical and mystical markers..."

Kate frowned. "What on earth..." She eyes the manila envelope warily. "Anya, it's six o'clock in the morning."

"Yes," the former demon agreed. "Which gives you, oh, three hours or so until the workday begins. That's plenty of time for sex. Well, plenty of time for a human, anyway."

"Sex," repeated Kate blankly.

"My check-up," Lorne elaborated. "Remember? No exchange of bodily fluids until a watcher checks me out?"

Understanding blossomed in Kate's eyes, and she clasped a hand to her chest, clearly moved. "You really did that? For me?"

"Sure did, Kitten."

"And it's okay? Anya, it's..."

"Well, from a technical standpoint, yes," said Anya cheerfully. "There are certain logistical considerations, of course---there always are in cases like these. But as long as you're reasonably bendy..." She shrugged, then beamed expansively. "You may now copulate," she told them.

Lorne and Kate traded amused glances. "Um, thanks," offered Lorne. "That's...swell."

Anya clapped delightedly. "I'm so pleased. Helping others copulate. I did a good deed."

They stood there for a moment. "Um, you can go now," said Kate.

Anya snapped to attention. "Right. Well, then." She shut the door behind her, helpfully calling 'don't forget the lubricant!' as she departed.

**

"Buffy," repeated Cordelia clomping into the lobby. "Wow, We were just...I mean, we were..."

Buffy walked right past Cordelia and looked upward. "Angel!" she shouted. Then, to Cordelia, she said "I thought I heard coffee."

"Uh, sure," said Cordelia. "Um, Buffy, it's so...so weird that you came, we were just...I mean, we were planning to come see you, today. We kinda have some news, and..."

"Whatever," said Buffy impatiently. "Angel!" she called again.

He appeared from nowhere, two steaming mugs of coffee in his hand. He gave one to each girl.

"Buffy," he said. He glanced at the clock. "When did you start driving?"

"When I was still wet."

He took in this answer impassively, eyes noting the clump of still-damp hair and the trickles of water that filled out the lines of exhaustion in her face.

"Drove fast. Everything okay?"

"Scooby summit," she told him without preamble. "I'm the delegation. This is big, Angel. Those lawyers, that raising...it's Jenny Calendar," she told him bluntly. There was no other way to deliver news like this. "They brought back Miss Calendar..."

Cordelia sat down. "Oh god..."

"Spike came, he had some news...wrong news, as it turned out, but Lorne filled in the blanks...Miss Calendar."

Angel briefly closed his eyes, then opened them again, hands twitching. "How's Giles?"

"I don't know."

He nodded. "And you?"

"Busy."

"I see."

"Kate has a friend on the force," said Buffy. "Gave her piles of boxes full of pilfered evil lawyer stuff. It's divvied up. I have your share in the car..."

"Okay."

"And you guys have Internet, right? Instant messenger?"

Cordelia nodded.

Buffy withdrew a floppy disk from her coat pocket. "Use this one. Willow's made some modifications, technical and otherwise, to keep out anyone else...6:30 sharp, before patrol. We ALL patrol," she told Angel. "Every night. You in your haunts, me in mine. But first, we compare notes and talk about whatever it is that's in those boxes. I don't care what you're doing or what's going on, you have a big enough crew to send SOMEONE on-line...no excuses, no lateness, no goofing off. I want to know why those lawyers brought Jenny back, I want to know what they plan to do with her, and I want to know how to stop them. Any questions?"

Cordelia and Angel shook their heads.

"All right, then. Boxes in the car. You coming?" Buffy stalked away, then suddenly paused, regarding Cordelia with momentary thoughtfulness. "Didn't you say you had some news too?"

"Uh right," stammered Cordelia, still stunned by the recent slew of information. "Um...Angel and I can have sex now. Side effect of the fusion thing."

Buffy shrugged. "Huh. Well, good luck with that." Still cold and all-business, she followed Angel outside.

**

It was noon before Buffy hit Sunnydale again.

“Dawn?” She pushed open the front door and peered into her living room. “Dawn? Giles? Where is everybody?”

She followed the sounds of barking puppy to the yard, where she found her sister deep in play with the ugliest little mutt she had ever seen. Knee-high. A mixed breed, so mixed that its pedigree was not readily apparent. Fur worn off in scraggly patches across its bony spine. And Dawn, face nuzzled deep within its probably diseased little tummy.

Buffy closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, counted to ten, and opened them. “Okay,” she said, deciding to work this through methodically. “Where’s Giles?”

“Magic shop,” Dawn answered. “Researching the big-bad. You okay?”

“Just went for a drive. Dawnie, I admit I didn’t pay the fullest attention to the whole ‘Kate has a puppy’ thing, but doesn’t Bruiser have…well, fur?”

Dawn put the puppy down and faced her sister, chin jutting defiantly. “This isn’t Bruiser.”

Buffy nodded patiently. “I see that,” she said in an even, modulated tone. “So…well, who is he?”

“This is Alamo.”

“Alamo?” she chuckled wryly. “Figures. Kate’s suggestion, or yours?”

Dawn shrugged. “It seemed to fit. The little underdog, odds, stacked against him, bravely fighting the stronger, more powerful overseers…”

Buffy frowned. “This is about me somehow?”

Dawn hesitated. “Buffy, don’t be mad, please? Look, Kate had to go back to the pound this morning to tie up some paperwork on Bruiser and she let me tag along, and while we were there we saw THIS little guy, and Buffy, he was all starving and lonely and abandoned and nobody wanted him, if you can believe that…”

The puppy scratched himself obliviously as Buffy stared. “Huh. Who’d have thunk it?”

“…and I couldn’t help it, Buffy, he just looked so sad and we talked about this and you said…”

“I said we would talk about it later.”

“And now it’s later and here we are and Buffy, they were gonna put him down or something! I couldn’t just…they were gonna kill him!”

“Huh,” said Buffy again. “Imagine that.”

“So…can I keep him?”

“We still need to talk about that. We need to talk about it with Giles, too.”

“They were gonna kill him!”

“We’ll see.”

Buffy wandered back into the house, and Dawn nuzzled the puppy into her arms again. “Don’t worry, Alamo,” she reassured him. “I’ll take care of you.”

**

“Cordelia?”

Cordelia barely glanced up from her book. “Hmmm?”

“You want lunch?”

She looked up briefly. “Hmmm. No.”

“You want a backrub?”

“Hmmm.”

“Do you want…well, a break?”

She stretched her neck thoughtfully. “Hmmm. Maybe I should go train for a bit.”

“Okay, training, that’s…good, okay, we’ll go down into the basement and we’ll spar for awhile…”

She gave him an odd look. “Hmmm. Maybe not.”

She lowered her eyes to the book again, and Angel slammed his shut with force enough to startle her.

“What?” she said.

“What? You’re doing he ‘what’ thing on ME? Cordelia, you’re upset. We need to talk about this.”

Finally, she closed the book. “Oh sure. Sir Brood-and-Mood telling ME we need to talk. That’ll help.”

“Cor…”

“Don’t call me that! Especially in that condescendy voice, Angel, it’s really irritating!”

“Cordy…”

“And you’re no better than me, you know,” she continued, wagging her finger in his face. “Did it ever occur to you that I don’t WANT to talk?”

“Yes,” he said. “On account of how you haven’t been, ever since Buffy…”

“Don’t interrupt! God, Angel, I hate it when you do that!” A thin sheen of sweat had broken out on her brow. “Do you even THINK before you open your mouth? Oh sure, talk, that’s great, we’ll talk cause THAT will solve all our problems, won’t it? THAT will stop the evil lawyers from unleashing their nefarious scheme upon us! THAT will undo whatever spell they’ve worked and THAT will magically flip these books open to whatever it is we need to know for when we talk to Buffy later, and damn it, Angel, how did you get me back on talking again?”

She took a deep, heaving breath. “I need a snack.”

“Cordy…”

“Demon temper,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “Still not quite under control. Food. Now.”

He blocked her. “Uh uh.”

She clenched her fists. “What?”

“You need to practice,” he told her. “Watchers said we need to build up your tolerance. Ten minutes.”

“Angel…”

“I know,” he said. “You’ve been getting better, but when you draw on your powers accidentally, you feel it worse…which is exactly why you need to practice. Deep breaths, Cordelia…”

Her fists shook. “God, Angel…”

“Deep breaths. Count backwards from ten.”

“God…”

“Come on, sweetheart, ten, nine, eight…”

“I’m so gonna pass out.”

“You’re not, you can control it. It’s just an impulse, and you can control it. Come on, seven, six, five…”

Her eyes sprung with tears. “You’re really gonna pull this NOW?”

“Focus, Cordelia,” he told her sternly. “Four, three, two…”

“With everything else going on, you’re really…”

“One,” he concluded calmly. “Still feeling sick?”

“Like a godamned junkie. Angel, please…”

He shook his head. “You have to learn.”

**

Giles crawled home at 5ish for supper with the girls.

“Off the couch,” he said instantly, dropping his briefcase on the floor.

Dawn gave Alamo a guilty nod, and the puppy hopped lopsidedly to the floor. Giles removed his glasses and smiled at Dawn with frightening serenity.

“Well, then. Let’s talk about this.”

She fidgeted, looking away from him. “So, I was…well…” She broke off and finally blurted “Can I keep him?”

“For what?”

Alamo paced the floor energetically, looking for a resting spot.

“Well, we could train him to be in dog shows or something…”

The dog abruptly tripped on his front right paw, and landed his rear square on his tail. He leapt to his feet with a whimper.

“Or we could hitch him up to a sleigh and use him to lug stuff.”

The eternally cheerful Alamo broke off his pouting when he seemed to smell something interesting on his own tail, which he began enthusiastically chasing after as Dawn looked on in dismay,

“Or…um…guard dog? Protect the house and home and all that?”

Alamo, at last exhausted, slumped to the floor with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, the very picture of non-viciousness.

“We live with a vampire slayer,” said Giles. “I’d wager we’re covered.”

“Well, fine,” huffed Dawn. “Figures YOU would need a reason. It’s not just good enough to say I want to and I like him and he makes me a teeny bit happy?”

“Attitude is NOT going to win me over, Dawn.”

Her lower lip trembled. “Giles…”

“Quiet,” he said, smile abruptly softening. “I was ready to give in, you know.”

“You…you were?”

“Give me SOME credit, Dawn. There may be a point I become too wrapped up in my own problems to see clearly to yours, but I daresay we haven’t reached it just yet.”

She looked away guiltily. “Giles, I never said…”

“You never had to. I was 15 once myself, you know. And I too shared my home with a Watcher who could let his business run away with him from time to time.”

“Your dad?” She picked up Alamo and rubbed his tummy thoughtfully. “What was he like?”

“A great deal like me, except with a temper, and a remarkably self-involved lack of interest in anyone save himself and his slayer.”

She stilled, eyes glowing curious. “He had a slayer? I never knew that. I mean, I knew he was a watcher, but you never told me he had a slayer.”

“You never asked.” His smile was warmer now. “I’d afraid I haven’t any wonderful stories, we never saw her much. Never saw him much, either…”

Dawn nodded. “I’ve so been there. My dad’s in Spain with his secretary.”

“Which is in no way a reflection on you. Look, Dawn…”

She cut him off. “So can I keep him?”

He glanced at Alamo. “OFF the couch,” he said again. Then to Dawn, he said “This hasn’t come easy to me either, you know. But lord help me, I do try.”

She nodded. “I know. I understand.”

“Do you? I suppose we’ll see about that soon enough, won’t we? You WILL take care of him, won’t you?”

She nodded eagerly. “I will. I really will.”

“Very well, then.” He flashed that grim, eerie smile very briefly, then briskly slid on his glasses. “I’ve conceded. And now you owe me one.”

**

The basement door creaked open and Cordelia followed the scent of pizza into the office like a bloodhound. Angel was standing before the microwave, a befuddled look on his face.

“Having trouble?”

He spun to face her. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi. You okay?”

“I was going for reheat,” he explained sheepishly. “But it keeps doing defrost…”

“Don’t bother, I’ll eat it cold,” she said, snatching the plate from his hands. She dove in voraciously, then between swallowed mouthfuls, she suddenly paused. “Angel?”

“What?”

“When did we get pizza?”

“Picked it up while you were training,” he said. “Figured you’d be hungry when you stopped.”

“I was hungry before that. And you wouldn’t let me eat, remember?”

He shrugged. “You had to learn. And from the sound of things, you did. You channeled it, Cordelia. You fought through it. I’m proud of you.”

She smiled through sticky mouthfuls of sauce. “Awww, I love you too. But seriously, when did you go for pizza? And why? There’s this thing they have now called delivery…”

He shrugged. “I felt like a walk.”

“And the whole sunlight issue never came into play because…” She put down the plate carefully. “Oh. Angel, how long was I down there for?”

“Well, I don’t think that’s really the…”

“No, tell me. Cause I honestly don’t have the slightest clue. I remember we were fighting, and I got mad, and then I got hungry, and then I started kicking stuff. And now, here we are. But the details---kinda lost in the feeding frenzy, you know? So…how long was it?”

He shrugged. “Oh, awhile…”

She shook her head, taking a pre-emptive bite of pizza as she felt the surge of magic-powered adrenaline rise within her like bile. “Don’t give me that. You are evading, Angel. You are evader-boy, and you are evading, and you don’t wanna tell me cause you think it’ll freak me out!”

“You don’t need to freak out. It’s perfectly natural for a…”

“For a what? A demon? Yes, it IS perfectly natural, isn’t it? Cause demons, they have tempers. And they can’t control themselves. And the only way that they can handle things is blindly lashing out like wild animals, is that it?”

He paused, meeting her gaze with precise, deliberate severity. “So you think I’m an animal?”

Her eyes widened. “No! God, Angel, I didn’t mean…”

“Your power comes from me,” he said. “And like me, you can learn to control it. You ARE learning.”

“And for what? Why? How am I doing that?” she said, eyes lowering sadly. “We’re different, Angel. YOU’RE different, it’s not the same at all. You’re stronger, and you’re better, and I’m…I don’t even know what I am. I can learn to slow it down, I guess, or channel it, or even smother it if I have to, it's gotta be easier than how it when the visions were still…you know. But I was like a monster down there, Angel, all instinct and pain and power and strength, and how do I learn to live with myself, knowing that I have that kind of...of destruction...in me?”

”Same way I did,” he said gently. “By realizing that you can use your power to help people. To do some good. To atone for whatever demons…”

She cracked a tiny smile. “That easy, is it?”

“God, no. But you play the hand you’re dealt, and for every honest win, you get a payout.”

“Right, of course. Lose five for the vampness, win five for the soul…”

“…or draw two from the dealer and get a full house,” he said, gently touching her cheek. “Vampire attributes plus gypsy curse, plus direct connection to the Powers-That-Be…”

Her eyes darkened again. “Lot of good THAT’S done me. I get what you’re trying to tell me, really , I do, but Angel, sometimes you win the hand without realizing that the house went bust four rounds ago. Sometimes you never GET the payout!”

“So you get an IOU, and claim it later. I’ve had my setbacks…WE’VE had our setbacks, and what happened this morning…what we found out…it’s been on my mind too. While you were down there, while you were…it IS hard, and I AM confused…but Cor, the only thing I know for sure is that the game’s not over yet. Whatever it is they’ve done, whatever it is they’re planning---we still have a chance. We still can stop them.”

She nodded slowly, then took another bite of pizza. “Is this your way of trying to bring me back on topic?”

“I need you,” he said. “You’re my partner, now more than ever. We can stop them, Cor. We can make this right again, but I need you.”

She took a deep breath. “All right. Fill me in.”

“That’s my girl.”

“And Angel?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m not living in any sewers.”

“Huh?”

“Demons. They live in sewers and they eat bugs and they smell bad and have poor fashion sense. I may be part-demon now, but if you think I’m getting into any of THAT…”

“Finish eating,” he told her. “And get some rest. We have a long night ahead of us.”

**

Spike fidgeted impatiently as Lilah paced her office---stopping by the bar to pour a glass of water, then fumbling for a coaster to rest the glass of water on, and finally hedging past an end table and pausing to adjust a florid paperweight before she slowly, laboriously wiggled her butt into her chair.

“Well,” she said at last. “Are you ready to tell me what happened now?”

“Ready?” he squeaked. “I’ve been ready damn near an hour, Lilah! YOU’RE the one who wasn’t ready…”

“Well, I do have other business,” she huffed. “Can’t expect me to drop everything just cause you’ve shown up…”

“Other business? I thought you were still waiting for the supplies you requisitioned!”

“True. But in the meantime, I had to deal with Harmony, and Nathan, and…and Jenny…and all by myself since YOU skipped out…”

“Skipped out? You bloody sent me away, you two-timing bint!

“Now, Spike, bad language flatters no one. Take a deep breath…I know, I know, you’re a vampire, you don’t HAVE to breathe, but some people find it soothing…”

“Lilah…”

“Oh, all right, fine,” she said off-handedly, sensing he’d reached his limit. “So you went to Sunnydale. And?”

“Saw the slayer, just like you said. Gave her the cover story, just like you said.”

“And?”

“Saw right through it, she did. Had that green-like anagogic bloke handy and he told her I was fibbing.”

“Anagogic, anagogic…oh, I know this one! Lorne, right? But…didn’t the file say he can only read you if you sing?”

“File’s wrong, pet.”

“Was he bluffing? Cause you don’t come off all that trustworthy, you know. So he could have been bluffing, trying to sniff you out…”

“I’m telling you, he pulled the mojo.”

“But that…that’s unacceptable! He’s…what? What is it now, why are you smirking like that?”

“Just thinking,” he said slowly. “That maybe I’M the one whose read it wrong. Maybe it wasn’t mojo after all…something he said about not needing to read me for this one. About having a source on the inside…”

Lilah’s eyes went wide and round, and she lunged for her phone, pounding every speed dial button simultaneously.

**

They had barely put down their forks before Buffy started in again.

“Right, great, that was nice. So, Giles, you’re on dish duty, I’ll get things set up for the scooby summit, and Dawn…” Buffy tapped her fingers thoughtfully against the table. “I think Alamo needs a walk.”

“No way!” said Dawn. “Scooby summit. I’m in!”

“You are not a scooby,” said Buffy. “You are fifteen.”

“But I want to say hello to Cordelia!”

“Dawnie…”

“Right,” said Dawn, shuffling grumpily to her feet. “And walking alone in the dark with a little puppy dog is SO much safer than watching you instant message with Cordelia…”

Buffy exhaled slowly. “Fine. You can stay for five minutes and say hello to Cordelia. Then you take puppy and go play upstairs.”

“Play? I’m fifteen!”

Buffy shook her head, already distracted. “Giles, dishes? Oh, and is Xander here yet?”

On cue, Xander and Anya wandered in from the living room.

“Greetings, scooberinos.”

“Hey Xander,” said Dawn.

“I bring you tidings,” he said. “Willow has a night class, and said to tell you she’ll join the scooby summit from the lab. Said it would probably get too crowded here anyway…”

“Oh, Dawn’s not staying,” said Buffy helpfully. Ignoring her sister’s baleful glare, she began counting them off on her fingers. “Okay, team one, that’s Giles and me. Team two, that’s you, and Willow at the lab for team three, so that leaves…where’s Lorne?”

“Probably copulating,” volunteered Anya. “I told him he could.”

Buffy frowned sharply, and Xander hastily reassured her. “Kate’s hooked up. Tara’s over there now doing the cross-checks. So, is d-day upon us, or do we have time for snacks?”

“It is 6:21,” said Buffy. “Scooby summit is at 6:30 sharp, followed promptly by patrol. If you feel you have the time to get food before that, you are welcome to.”

“Or I could make food,” grumbled Dawn. “Since I’m not participating…”

“Stop it,” snapped Buffy. “You don’t need to help, and trust me, you don’t want to. Dawnie, this isn’t a game. This is dangerous. I can handle it. You should be glad I can handle it.”

Dawn opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced by a withering glare from Giles, who pulled Buffy aside with an apologetic nod to the others.

“What the HELL do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

“Dealing,” she said coldly. “In the only way I can. We’re gonna know everything we can know about these lawyer people. We’re going to know everything about their nefarious plan, and we are going to foil them. That is what we’re going to do.”

“And will we be taking a deep breath from time to time and allowing ourselves the occasional moment of human feeling along the way? This is hard for all of us, Buffy, Dawn too, believe it or not.”

“She shouldn’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

“That isn’t what she’s worried ABOUT, love.”

She let the awkward silence fall between them. “Is that so? Don’t fight with me, Giles. This is so not the time.”

“Why not? This is how you always cope with things, Buffy, and it isn’t healthy. You can’t just shove away the problems that aren’t so fixable. The world does not stop turning just because some lawyers played with magic they shouldn’t have. You still have a sister. She still loves you and worries about you. And you still need to find a way to deal with her without hurting her feelings.”

“I don’t mean to hurt her feelings, Giles, she knows that. I just have a lot on my mind right now…”

“…and when this over, you’ll find other battles, because it never ends. But battles, you can handle those. You can kick and fight and kill the bad guy, then it’s done. But not all problems can be solved that way, can they?”

“I know that!”

“So what do you do with them, then?”

“Giles, this so isn’t the time…”

He smirked knowingly. “Exactly.”

She rolled her eyes. “So I’m not perfect. You’re right, very good, one point for you. So what are you suggesting I do about it NOW? Call up the evil lawyers and tell them to put their plan on hold while I have a good cry?”

“I am suggesting that the world will not come to imminent end---this time---if you start your scooby summit five minutes late, and take those minutes to lock yourself in the bathroom, take a few deep breaths, and centre yourself.”

“And Dawn?”

He smiled gently. “You really don’t see it, do you? She DOES understand, you know. This time.”

**

Lorne depressed the computer monitor’s on button with his baby finger, then sprung his hand away involuntarily as the screen lit up.

“Did I do it? Do we have it?”

Tara traded amused glances with Kate. “All set,” she told him. “Technical AND mystical protection checking out okay…there’s no way anybody unauthorized can get in now. Just run the IM program off this disk instead of your usual one.”

“We have a usual one?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Lorne, I can’t believe you’ve never done this before. Caritas DOES have a website…”

“Cordelia was bored one afternoon. I let her play. Hey, I can do email, what more do you want from me?”

“This is kinda the same,” said Tara. Just…you know that the other person’s on the other end, and reading it in real time.”

“Real time,” said Kate, shaking her head. “I swear they make this more complicated than it has to be. Like there’s any other kind of time?”

“Well, space-time,” said Tara.

“Or hell-dimension time,” added Lorne.

“Forget it, I don’t want to hear it. I will be participating in something called a ‘scooby summit’ tonight. I think that taps out my weekly quota of ‘strange and unusual.’”

Lorne regarded her seriously. “But you ARE okay with this? Katie, you said…”

“I said I would try to help you, Lorne. Didn’t say I was promising anything…”

Tara looked uncomfortable. “Maybe I should…”

“No, it’s okay,” said Kate. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Tara. Lorne and I have talked about this before. And he’s just going to have to accept that this is a demon I’ll have to keep fighting. I might not like it. In fact, I’m sure I don’t…but what am I supposed to do, just sit there and watch the world come to an end?”

“We don’t know that’s happening,” said Tara gently.

“And that makes it easier? People have already died, haven’t they? And people have…” Kate blinked quickly and took a deep breath. “Sorry. Guess I should just focus on the task at hand, leave old baggage out of it…”

“If that’s what works for you,” said Tara. “We all have different thresholds…different baggage…and if you want to help, that’s really…brave.”

“I don’t feel brave,” said Kate with a bitter laugh. “I feel like throwing up every time I think about this. But if I didn’t help, if I didn’t try…I’d feel worse, wouldn’t I?”

Tara met Kate’s gaze impassively. “You’re all set up,” she said. Lorne put his arm around his lady and opened up the IM screen.

**

Cordelia’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Well, we’re all set up,” she chirped.

Angel smiled. “You seem better.”

“Well, yeah. Pizza, nap, shower, why wouldn’t I be?”

He shook his head. “I love you.”

“Aww, I know. Okay, just open this window here, and…” She picked up the phone.

“Cordelia?” said Angel.

She paused mid-dial. “Hmmm?”

“Who are you calling?”

“Giles.”

“But you’re…I mean, he’s gonna be on the…”

“Sure he is. And so is Buffy and Tara and Lorne, and how are we gonna talk about anything private THEN, hmmm?”

“But…he’s…”

“Giles and I talk every night on the phone Angel, you know that. We talked about behaviour you need to get jealous over, didn’t we? We made a list.”

“Yes…”

“And I specifically left this OFF the list as I recall. Giles is a friend. I love him. I’m gonna call. Giles?”

The screen lit up and the words “Hello, L.A.” appeared in the window.

“Hi Giles,” Cordelia said into the phone. Into the computer, she typed ‘hi Hellmouth.’”

“Things are good,” she was telling Giles. “Did Buffy tell you? Angel and I can…”

The words ‘So what’d you find’ floated on-screen with Buffy’s screenname.

“…and we talked it out like REAL adults,” Cordelia was saying. “Well, after the fighting, and the pouting…”

She typed: ‘No news is good news?’ then, back to the phone again, hastily clarified “No, ANGEL wasn’t pouting. And I did get all mature, after…”

Buffy again: ‘You didn’t find anything?’

A hasty placation, from Tara: ‘They weren’t the only ones looking.’

“…and if I had a therapist?” Cordelia lectured the phone. “Serious bonus points. I mean, even Angel was proud of me, and he NEVER picks up on…”

Angel gently slid the keyboard out from under her fingers and typed ‘Hi Lorne.’

“…well of COURSE he loves me anyway,” Cordelia shrilled. “And okay, maybe there’s a small bias going on, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t do really, REALLY well here…”

On-screen, coupled to Lorne’s name: ‘Deep breaths, kittens. Those lawyers can cover their tracks.’

“…awwww, I love you too,” Cordelia gushed into the phone. “I knew you’d understand. So how goes things at Hellmouth central? You holding up okay?”

**

Buffy banged the keyboard with her fists. “Damn it! We need more to go on here!”

“We’re doing our best,” said Xander. “But Lorne’s right, Buffy, this might take awhile.”

“Like you would know. You spent the whole day working!”

Xander swallowed, hurt, but kept his face neutral. “That wasn’t fair. You know that wasn’t fair.”

“Sure. Like building deadlines are really going to matter if the world ends.”

“Buffy!”

On-screen, she typed ‘Just report!’

Then she pushed the keyboard away again and scanned the room wolfishly.

“Well, if you aren’t helping with THIS, go research NOW,” she commanded. “And Giles, put down the damn phone and come help me!”

Giles shot her a glare and took a step out of earshot, covering the phone with his hand.

“Fine,” she snitted. Into the keyboard, she typed ‘Anyone else?’

Kate’s screen-name popped up, the message fragmented and slow. ‘Marlena’s diary.’

“Who the crap is Marlena?” muttered Buffy. She grabbed her ice tea and chugged it, then typed ‘Who?’

‘Marlena,’ typed Kate. ‘Worked for Wolfram and Hart. The boxes…’

‘Your point?’ typed Buffy.

‘I’m sorry,’ typed Kate. ‘I’m trying…’

‘We don’t have time!’ typed Buffy.

She shoved the keyboard aside. “I’m going patrolling,” she told the stunned assemblage. “This has been a total wash.”

Dawn reappeared, Alamo in her arms, just in time to watch Buffy stalk out and Xander retreat to the kitchen with Anya for leftover pizza and debriefing. A twitchy Giles hung up the phone with a dead ‘You too,’ and she juggled the puppy in her arms and made a decision.

“Hey,” she called. “You wanna see something?”

**

Buffy came back from patrol to find Lorne perched comfortably on her front step, waiting for her.

She regarded him warily. “Everything okay?”

In the moonlight, his red eyes glowed menacingly. “Don’t think so, hon.”

She blinked. “Uh, okay…”

“It’s late, we’re tired, long day and all that, so I’ll just get straight to the point and tell you that if you EVER treat Kate that way again…”

“Lorne, what…”

“She put herself OUT for you, Buffy,” he said. “This has been HARD for her.”

Her face froze in brittle, blank emotion. “It’s been hard for all of us.”

“No excuse,” he snapped. “It’s time you learn that is no excuse. She can’t handle this the way you can, Buffy---she doesn’t have the superpowers, and she doesn’t have the inclination. But she’s put herself out on this one because it’s haunting her. Do you understand that?”

She hesitated, briefly, confused, then sank to the porch, finally coming off the adrenaline. “I’m sorry,” she said.

He softened. “I know. We all have ghosts on this one, don’t we? I’m thinking this might be our chance---to deal with them…”

She blinked. “What?”

“You and your sweetheart, hon---I’m thinking you get HIM squared away, and it’ll all work out. He’s the only one who has his heart in every implication: Jenny’s not the only girl he knows whose been brought back by magic, is she?”

Again, she stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Does he?”

She closed her eyes, and when she spoke again, it was through gritted teeth. “What the hell are you doing? What right do you have…”

“Very little,” he admitted. “But I’m taking a stand on this one---things have to change around here, my little chosen one. It’s time you stopped taking out your poor emotional coping skills on other people.”

“So it’s all my fault, is it? Lorne, Giles isn’t handling this any better than I…”

“I know,” he conceded. “And the only reason he’s not getting the smack from me right now is cause YOU’RE the one who yelled at Kate. Look, you and your watcher…you have some issues, no doubt about it. If I were writing one of those alphabet picture books, I could come up with a separate one for every letter.”

She cracked a tiny smile.

“…and no denying that you’re a special case either,” continued Lorne. “But in the end, there is only one thing you two need to figure out, and until you do…”

“What?” said Buffy. “What is it?”

He sighed. “Look, sweetheart, there is no reason at all you should be taking out your pain on us---cause that’s what HE is for. That’s what love is, kitten---finding that one who’ll let you be weak and small sometimes and love you just the same. And working through it with HIM so you can leave the rest of us to our own problems.”

“But Giles…”

“He has other people watching out for him too---you get a free pass on this one. But talk to him just the same...”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. I will.”

“And Buffy? Don’t ever yell at Kate again.”

**

Angel returned from his uneventful patrol to find Cordelia sprawled on his bed, a pile of books at her side.

“You okay?” he said.

Cordelia shrugged. “I’m gonna spend the night in your room, ‘kay?”

“Third night in a row.”

“So?”

“So this is good,” he said. “Me being here for you, you being here for me…”

“Uh huh.”

He nodded at the books. “Whatcha reading?”

“School stuff. I am still going, aren’t I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Well, lawyer stuff. Scooby summit.”

“So? Life goes on, Cordelia. And Wesley was right: you need to do this. You need to have a connection to the world.”

“But…”

“It’s a better fight when you have a reason. You can’t just live for your powers,” he said gently. “I’ve had it both ways, and it only really was right when I had…with Buffy, with you…”

“But sometimes…I mean, right now, I’m…I’m confused, a little. And Dawn is angry, and Giles is depressed, and Buffy’s on a rampage…”

“And it all turns into adrenaline sooner or later, and gets worked through. You did well today, Cordelia.”

“Okay…”

“And you’ll do well tomorrow too. You’ll start school again, you’ll have your normal life, and I’ll be waiting for you when you come home.”

“But…”

“Sometimes there are things you can’t work through with power or magic,” he said with a smile. “And I’m guessing cold feet is one of them. Well…” He folded his arms expansively. “Would it help you to think of this as field work, then? I mean, journalism, that’s, like, teaching you how to be a better snoop…”

She nodded confidently. “I can do it,” she told him. “I can use it.”

“I know you can. So whatcha reading?”

She flipped over the cover with a suddenly peaceful smile. “Bird by bird,” she told him. “I can do this, Angel. I can do it all.”

He took the paperback from her hands and the book fell open to an already dog-eared page:

“…Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write. It was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder and said ‘bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.’…”

He handed Cordelia back her book and snuggled into bed beside her, grabbing a discarded file folder off the floor. Bird by bird, he told himself, smiling. One file at a time, one missing piece at a time…bird by bird.

They read themselves to dreamless sleep.

**

Buffy hoisted herself through the branches and quietly settled herself down beside him, on the treehouse floor.

“Hey.”

He did not respond.

“Nice night up here.”

He gave a mild shrug. “I suppose. Dawn show you up here?”

“Lorne. Giles, are you…”

“Stop asking.”

She swallowed, a little hurt. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Look, you don’t have to be so careful,” he said gently. “I’m not broken. I’m not fragile. I’m just…”

“Brooding?”

“Not quite.”

“Tell me,” she said.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is. You’ve got things going through your head right now. So you just say what they are.”

“It’s not that easy,” he said again.

“I can draw it out of you,” she told him.

He shrugged. “If you must. It’s not that easy.”

“Isn’t it? You’re thinking about her, aren’t you? Jenny…it’s hard to get used to, the idea that she’s…”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what? Regrets over how things…over what…she’s haunting you?”

“She’s not the first.”

“But you loved her.”

“And in that too, she’s not the first.” He sighed. “They all run together sometimes. And you can’t pick out the one from the other, you can’t say this is who I loved then, this is who I love now, because they all get mixed up…”

“Just tell me what to do,” she pleaded.

“There’s nothing you CAN do. I didn’t choose this life any more than you did, you know. And there were times I wasn’t any happier…times I loved, times I lost…you remember Olivia, don’t you?”

“That friend of yours from England?”

He nodded. “I loved her once. I loved her as a friend. I loved her as a woman. But in the end, I decided I loved her better…alive.”

“So you pushed her away from you. So that your life…MY life…wouldn’t hurt her.”

“Why not? It has before.” He laughed bitterly. “And there’s Jenny again. You see how it all runs together?”

“My fault,” she flashed bitterly. “Giles, I don’t know what to do!”

“I have told you already. There’s nothing you CAN do. You have your life. You have your destiny, as did I. And it made it’s mark upon me long before you came along.” He took a deep breath. “My father was a watcher,” he told her. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Did I mention that he had a slayer too?”

“No.”

He nodded. “She was called the summer I turned nine. I didn’t know everything yet---mostly overheard snippets from the dinner table, council, watchers, just words really…then one day Father came home, and I heard him strut to Mother that the new slayer had been remanded to his care…”

“Nine years old,” Buffy mused. “And you had a slayer in the house?”

“Not entirely. Kept her away from us, he did---kept himself away too as a consequence, which probably left just as big a mark. Then one night…one random, ordinary night…Father comes home and he has this girl with him: a moody thing with a sour, pouty frown and coal-dark ringlets streaming down her back. I was nine years old. I had never seen such a creature. And when I overheard Mother use that word ‘slayer’ again…”

He smiled briefly. “My first schoolboy crush. I fell for her instantly and irretrievably. I spent the entire night mooning after her.”

“And?”

“And she never even spared me a glance. She ate a silent dinner, stiff and rigid and gloomy eyes never leaving the floor, then retreated to the study straight after. But Father…it was his one perceptive moment with me, and he picked up on it. He came to my room later that night…”

He looked away, and she reached out a hand with unabashed tenderness. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said.

“I do. You asked. You know who she is, he said, sitting down on my bed beside me. I nodded. Slayer. Mummy used that word. And he said yes, she is that. She is also stubborn and headstrong and petulant and strong enough to snap that little neck of yours with two of her dainty, pretty fingers. And Rupert, she is also going to die. Not now, not today, but someday, and soon. She’ll die, Rupert. She’ll DIE. And I shan’t let her take your heart with her.”

She felt it, then: that first flicker of completely unqualified love, where his own pain overshadowed hers. She could barely trust herself to speak. “Well…did she?”

“What, take my heart with her? Or die? Both, as it turned out. I dreamed of her for months after---romanticized little-boy dreams, on nights he would say too much at the dinner table, and I would listen. I wasn’t in formal watcher training yet, but I had a keen ear and a mother’s gossip, and I heard my share…”

“But the slayer, did she…”

“Eight months after---although I didn’t learn that until much, much later. I dreamed of her for so long---that sad, dark girl who came to dinner…and when I turned 18 and finally had unrestricted access to the watcher’s council library, I looked her up.”

His face darkened, and he looked away again.

“Big mistake?” she guessed.

“You could say that. It was the impetus for my “Ripper” phase. I looked her up, and there she was…called at 14. Died 18 months later. She never even hit 16.”

“Oh, Giles…”

“And it went further back…and further forward…and suddenly, it wasn’t academic anymore. One slayer dies, and another is called. One slayer DIES…and she was my great unanswered question, my great lost chance, my wound, and I hadn’t even realized…”

His voice broke, and this time, he did not try to hold it back. “They started haunting me: dreams every night, of slayers fighting, slayers dying, old ones, new ones, and her most of all. The records of their lives and deaths were bloodlessly graphic and at the same time horribly vague, and somehow I dreamed in the missing pieces…and so I turned to magic to exorcise their spirits, to blot away the pain…and it got away from me…”

“Eyghon,” she said.

“It got away from me,” he finished softly. “And I vowed that I would never let my destiny take away another.”

“So you shut your heart away again,” she realized. “Business as usual, until Jenny came along. And you let her in. And she was taken away from you…”

“She never even hit 16. She never learned to drive, she never had a lover…and she never had a mother, either, do you know how sad that is? They took her when she was barely a child, and they raised her to be hard and tough and strong, and she never even hit 16…”

“Giles…Rupert…”

“And some years later there I was, MY slayer prophesied to die at the hands of the master, and SHE barely 16…and I let someone in. Someone who wanted me, who pursued me in a way I hadn’t been pursued since I was young and magical and dangerous…and on that night, she asked to help me. And I let her in.”

More tears, of guilt, this time. “Giles, I’m sorry---for what I was---for what I did---“

“Oh, I’m not angry,” he told her. “I was, perhaps, once. But now…I’m only telling you this so you’ll understand why I can’t always face you when I get like this. You see how it all runs together like that---and when I look at you---well, I want it to be only you I’m seeing.”

“But I…Giles, I’ve…”

“I know,” he told her gently. “I’m not the only one with memories. And Angel is not generally a happy one for me. But he loved you, Buffy. He let you love---and you might have died at 15 like SHE did and never have had that.”

“I have it now,” she told him, voice breaking.

“That you do,” he said. “And if that’s to be his way into my life after everything he’s done…well, I can live with that. In my better moments, anyway.” He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “There now, see how easy that was? You’re you again…”

The catharsis had exhausted him. She supported his weight as they tumbled to the ground, and carried him up to bed when he stopped shaking,

**

Dawn lay in bed and stretched, then kicked off the sheets and padded into the kitchen in search of breakfast. Lorne was waiting for her.

“Morning, munchkin.”

“Lorne?” She rubbed the last of the sleep out of her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Eating breakfast?”

“Uh huh. But weren’t you…you didn’t have a fight with Kate again, did you?”

“Just the opposite,” he said, idly picking the crusts off a tall stack of toast. “I’m heading back to L.A. this morning---some of us have a business to run, you know---and Katie said she wanted me gone before she woke up because she hates long goodbyes.”

“So you thought you’d stall by coming here and mooching food?”

“Well, I didn’t want to get stuck in rush hour. And not only that, but Kate is not the only friend I have in Sunnydale, you know.”

Dawn frowned. “Great. The odd couple needs more checking up on.”

“Actually,” he drawled, liberally pouring jelly onto the topmost toast slice. “I think that just this once, they’re kind of squared away a little. You did good last night, kiddo.”

Dawn shrugged. “He looked like he needed a place to hide. And hey, you already found it. Kate already found it. My secret hiding place kind of isn’t secret anymore. So why not invite Giles too?”

“You did good,” he repeated.

Dawn shrugged. “He’s not so bad. I only complain so much to keep ‘em on their toes a little, you know? They can be SO screwed up sometimes.”

“I know it, babe, and good on you for looking out for YOU in all of this. If you EVER need an extra ear…”

She smirked. “Are you going sentimental on me?”

“Hey, I’m giving up a granola bar in my car during rush hour traffic to check up on you…” he teased.

It finally sunk in: he hadn’t come over because of Kate. He hadn’t come over for Buffy, for Giles, for Alamo, even…

She crushed him in spontaneous bear hug. “I love every single thing about my life!” she squealed.

Lorne gently disentangled himself, then reached for the jelly and buttered the rest of his toast.

**

Cordelia scanned the lecture hall, looking for an empty seat.

“Cordelia!” called a familiar voice.

She frowned. “Scott? What are you doing here?”

Scott Hope, book bag in hand, graced her with an impish smile. “T.A.-ing,” he said. At her horrified look, his grin widened. “Just teasing. Had a free period and knew it was your first day, so I thought I’d come help you get settled.”

Her smile was genuine. “Thanks. That’s really…nice.”

He ushered her to the front of the class. “This is fundamentals, right?”

She glanced at her timetable grid. “Yup. Fundamentals of news reporting.”

He nodded. “You’ll have Ivany for that. “Sit up front. She does a lot of in-class critiquing, and you’ll get better feedback if she tags you first.”

The door clanged open and a well-dressed older woman strolled in.

“Well, that’s it,” said Scott. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Thanks.” She took out a pen and paper, relaxing a little. Maybe not all ghosts of Sunnydale past were so bad…

**

It was mid-day before Rupert Giles finally looked up from his books to find Anya staring at him.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She idly fiddled with the orb of Ramjarin that he had been using as a paperweight. “Oh, fine,” she told him happily. “You look MUCH better today. I mean, sure, still burying your nose in those musty old books, which can’t be healthy, what with the teeny tiny print and needlessly graphic engravings, but even so…”

“Anya…”

“You look better,” she concluded. “Did you have sex?”

He nearly choked on his tea. “What?”

“Sex. Did you? Cause in my experience, there are only two things that can relax somewhat as tensed up as you’ve been: sex, and illicit pharmaceuticals. And jogging, in some cases.” She shrugged off-handedly. “You just seemed more like the sex type to me.”

“This is really none of your business,” he said awkwardly, deciding that further comment would be futile.

It was then they heard the clang of the little bell above the door. “Oh, customers,” squealed Anya with a tiny clap. A moment later, her smile deflated. “Drat. It’s only Kate.”

Giles raised an eye curiously and set his book aside.

“Detective Lockley,” he greeted formally, noting that she was in uniform.

She nodded, and scanned the magic shop with curious caution. “Nice place you got here. I think.”

He smiled. “What can I do for you?”

She thrust a piece of paper at him. “There was a diary in with the lawyer stuff---Marlena, an old friend of mine…”

He nodded. “Lorne filled us in.”

“He did?”

“Broad strokes,” he reassured her. “She was a…a secretary?”

Kate nodded. “And one of her first jobs out of school was Wolfram and Hart. They killed her. I’ll never prove it, not even with the diary, but I know it’s true.”

“It is entirely possible, I’m afraid,” Giles agreed.

“Anyway,” continued Kate with a tired sigh. “I’ve been going through it and came across some words I didn’t know. And Tara told me you were the person to see about that kind of thing, so…”

“Indeed. Well, let’s have a look, shall we?” He gave the list a cursory scan. “Most of these terms are used in magic,” he realized. “See, this one here refers to the ritual for…”

“Whatever,” interrupted Kate hastily. “Look, I’m on lunch break, so…”

He was already intent on the work before him. “Hmmm? Oh, yes. Quite. Well, top of the morning to you, then. Lovely day.”

Anya watched Kate go with a dismayed sigh. “Talk about wound up too tight…”

“This is a bit out of her league,” Giles said.

“Within a day or two, I predict unflattering dark circles under her eyes,” pronounced Anya. She shook her head. “Looks like you aren’t the only one who isn’t copulating…”

**

Professor Lynne Ivany paced the room, locking gazes with each of her students in turn.

“There are three factors that make a story newsworthy,” she intoned. “Who can tell me what they are?”

The class stared back at her blankly.

“All right,” she sighed. “Why don’t we try working through this as a group, then? Somebody want to throw out a topic?”

“Lawyers,” said Cordelia instantly.

The professor gave an agreeable nod. “All right. And you are…”

“Cordelia Chase.”

“Of course. Now, Cordelia---you have any particular lawyers in mind?”

“Sure,” she said. “There’s this local firm my boss runs up against from time to time…”

“Local!” pounced Ivany. “Factor number one, news is local. Sad fact is most people would rather here about a car crash three blocks from work than an earthquake in faraway nowhere. All right, Cordelia, let’s stay with your local firm for a moment. What makes them newsworthy?”

“Well, they are up to something,” said Cordelia. “And if we found out what, we could stop them before they hurt someone.”

“Wonderful,” the professor said. “Timeliness is vital to a story. You want to answer the questions why do I care, and why do I care NOW? You said they might hurt someone?”

Cordelia nodded.

“And would these people they might hurt be willing to talk to you on the record?”

If they are still alive, thought Cordelia. Out loud, she said “Oh, sure.”

“Human interest,” said Professor Ivany loudly. “Human interest. Stories are about PEOPLE, always remember that. Find me a local person in imminent danger from some nefarious something, and I will guarantee you you’ll have a sell-able story unless you are very stupid. Now, how would we go about ascertaining exactly what Cordelia’s lawyer friends are up to?”

Blank stares from the class.

“Public records,” said Professor Ivany patiently. “Are a treasure trove of information. Have they hired anyone new recently? Newspapers can tell us that. Have they bought any land? Local land registries can tell us all of that. Who are their investors? Annual reports can…yes?” She nodded to Cordelia’s waving hand.

“That’s great,” said Cordelia, madly scribbling notes. “Now, where can I find all of those?”

**

It was nightfall before Spike got bored enough to go looking for Lilah again. They had been in virtual lockdown at the Wolfram and Hart compound since his return---and since his discovery that the scoobies were a teeny bit smarter than he thought. The extra guards they had on the still-semi-comatose witch had been fired (well, killed) and Lilah had been limiting her contact to himself, Harmony, and the little witch---both of whom he had tried to engage in some Rummy and s’mores earlier that evening to no avail. So he went looking for Lilah out of sheer boredom and found her in her office, staring dumb-founded at her computer screen.

“Evening, pet.”

She flicked off her monitor and glared. “Don’t call me that.”

He smirked and licked his lips. “You have that twinkle of excitement in your eye,” he told her. “And that frowny-glare thing? Makes it SO much sexier.”

She sighed. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Honestly? No. So how’s about you share the news, hmmm? What was the hot new inter-office email gossip that had you so entranced when I came in just now?”

She frowned again. “There are still arrangements to be made.”

“Yes? And?”

“And there are still a few details to work out, so don’t get TOO excited…”

“But…”

“But they approved my requisition,” she told him. “I wasn’t sure they would, after your little Sunnydale visit…”

“…which was YOUR idea,” he reminded her.

“But somehow, they approved it. We’re on.”

“Uh huh. On for what, pet?”

“Don’t call me that.”

He shrugged. “So you gonna tell me what the grand plan is, now? Why the clueless little witch was a strict no-snacker?”

She opened her drawer and withdrew a rumpled scroll. “All right. I’ll show you.”

He unraveled the scroll and squinted carefully at the diagram. “But that’s…”

“Uh huh.”

“But can we…”

“Sure.”

“The slayer…”

“Not a factor. She won’t find us.”

“But won’t that be…well, the first place she looks?”

She shook her head and directed his attention to the maps again. “No, not that one. THAT one.”

“Oh.” His eyes widened. “Ohhhhh….”

Spike gave Lilah an optimistic smile. “And if the witch does survive this little party---we can eat her THEN, can’t we?”

Lilah shrugged. “We’ll see.”

**

“I’ve got LOTS to tell you,” said Buffy.

She hadn’t even taken off her coat; she started talking as soon as she had cleared the front door.

“As do I,” said Giles. “You had a nice day, then?”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I was on the phone with Cordy earlier, and she’s been playing nosy reporter all day…”

“Oh yes, I imagine,” he said. “But Buffy, I saw Kate this morning, and although she doesn’t know it yet, she’s struck a veritable goldmine.”

Buffy sighed. “All right. You first.”

He smiled. “Well, then. There’s a diary she’s found---that friend of hers, do you remember?”

Buffy nodded.

“Well, it seems the diary---which predates our present tribulations by a good ten years, by the way---is just full of references to raising spells.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “You mean they planned to bring back Jenny all this time?”

“Well, possibly not Jenny, per se, but certainly someone. Or something. Why, within the brief snippets I saw today alone were spells that could summon at least half a dozen beings from at least that many planes of existence. Clearly, they saw potential in this sort of thing, even if they weren’t QUITE sure just when they would find it useful.”

“But why, Giles? What are they gonna use her for?”

“In a specific sense? I’m not sure yet. But in a general sense…”

“What?”

“Well, Jenny was a witch, Buffy. A fairly powerful one. That…well, I’m afraid that widens the net significantly.”

She frowned. “But they can’t MAKE her do magic, can they? I mean, Lorne said she hasn’t been in any condition to…”

“They don’t have to make her,” said Giles grimly. “The power is still there, regardless of whether she invokes it or not. As long as she is alive, they can use her---like a magic battery, if you will. To power any number of unfortunate spells or rituals.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“I’m afraid nothing about this is good. Well, then. You spoke with Cordelia?”

Buffy nodded. “Turns out there’s plenty interesting in the public domain,” she said. “And a fair bit more if you know a hacker with no moral qualms about invading people’s privacy…”

Willow flounced into the living room just in time to overhear, and she greeted Buffy with a large, broad smile. “Finally, something I can do.”

**

Cordelia shoved the keyboard out of the way and stretched her arms behind her.

“Ummmm. Massage.”

Angel, arms fully around her by now, pulled her to her feet and away from the desk, then rested his chin on her shoulder. “I thought I was sneaking up on you.”

“Demon-enhanced senses, remember? I can smell you now.”

“You can?”

“Little bit. Plus, you forgot to clean under your fingernails after you went into my secret stash of marshmallows again. THAT I can smell for sure.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Didn’t say you had to be.”

He smirked playfully, then abruptly, his face fell. “We can’t. Scooby summit in ten minutes.”

It was her turn to smile. “Nope.”

“What?”

“I’ve already talked to Buffy. And she’s already talked to Giles. We already GOT caught up. No point in having a scooby summit if we’re already…well, summited…”

“So she gave us the night off?”

“Not quite. There IS homework. But…”

“Yes?”

“Well, that’s why we have Wesley, isn’t it?”

“Cordelia!”

“What? I already DID the junior reporter bit and FOUND the information. Now we just have to go through it. And Wesley can do that as well as I can. Plus, unlike me, he doesn’t have any vampires to have sex with right now.”

“I certainly hope not. But Cordelia…”

“Look, I’m finally getting comfortable with the sex thing. You’re telling me you really want to kill the mood?”

“I want to be careful,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know you don’t. And believe me, I don’t want you to either. I’ve thought it all through, Angel, and it’s been hard, I won’t deny it. Sex…love…is complicated enough without the extra layers WE’VE got going on, and believe me, even now, there are times I’m fighting the urge to just run away to Gunn’s for the night, and…”

“Gunn,” he mused thoughtfully. “That’s…that’s where you went the night you…”

“Damn right. He’s…god, that was so long ago that we decided that, and I guess we just never changed the decide, even though you had the…”

“What?”

“Well, after you fi…well, before your epiphany…god, this is so weird, Angel, please don’t be mad…”

“I won’t be,” he said. “Whatever it is, I promise you, I won’t be.”

She took a deep breath. “He’s our safe house,” she told him. “He’s the only one who has never invited you in, and he’s never GOING to invite you in, because he’s our safe house. I had nearly forgotten, it seems so long ago…you had just…well, you know. And we were still stunned and drunk on tequila and karaoke and visions and blood and demons and our first fight without you, and we sat down, right there in that alley, and Wesley said that maybe it was time to look at that idea of his again…I mean, he had brought it up before, and told me he had one, but it was never really something I was comfortable talking about. I mean, who wants to think about that? But there we were, and we were out there on our own and we didn’t know WHAT was going through your head, and if you already HAD gone evil or were just. warming up…so we made him our safe house, and decided then and there that if things EVER got to that stage…he was our out. And I had almost forgotten all about it until that night we found out about the loophole, when I was mad, and I was scared, and I guess it subconsciously came back to me. The one place in L.A. that you could never find me…you do understand, don’t you? Why it’s been so hard? Because I do love you. I do trust you. But in the back of my head, there always has to be a back-up plan, and that’s…”

“Good,” he said. “That’s good. There should be.”

“There…there should?”

“I can’t lie to you, Cordelia. I could never imagine hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you. But my life is soaked with magic, and I can’t promise you that there aren’t people out there who might try to use it to hurt me. To hurt YOU. If anything does go wrong…”

“It won’t. It can’t.”

“It has. It might.”

She nodded. “I know it. I’ve thought it too, and in my weaker moments---when I’ve had a bad day---it does freak me out sometimes. But you know what? Life if short. We all could die tomorrow. So I say look on the bright side. Sure, my boyfriend used to be an evil vampire killer, and that’s bad and scary and gross. But if it does give me nightmares, he’ll be there to hold me when I wake up. And that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

She shuddered in his arms, as if throwing off a chill, then beamed him a radiant smile. “There, see? It’s all good. So, you still feel like having sex with me, or did we totally kill the mood?”

**

It was a little too dark out there. Buffy had left for patrol an hour ago, and it was very dark. And very cold. And very lonely. Her homework was done now, pens closed up, pencils dull and text books discarded off-handedly when she moved to the bed to finish up The Hound of the Baskervilles for English lit. And when THAT had suddenly inspired her to pick up the puppy, who nuzzled happily on her lap, oblivious to the creaks and shadows around him…

Dawn put aside her mug of hot chocolate, cuddled Alamo in her arms and crooned to him bravely.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “We are 15 now, and we aren’t scared of the dark anymore.”

Alamo gently licked her hand.

“I mean, we know what’s out there, and that’s…well, bad, I guess. But they can’t come in unless you invite them---well, except for the demons, and frankly, if it’s them who are after you, you’re kind of screwed anyway…”

Alamo angled his nose and nuzzled her palm with a brief, forceful yelp, as if to reassure his mistress that he would protect her. She stroked his fur with gentle, rhythmic caresses.

“And we’re okay, you know,” she said softly. “We live and we breathe and we grow, and…look, even you, your fur is growing in a little, see? It’s not so bad…”

Her discarded paperback toppled suddenly in an ominous, crinkly crescendo of crashes and shadows. Dawn clenched Alamo tightly to her chest.

“We should check on Giles,” she decided. “See if he’s okay…”

Alamo happily lapped his furry little mouth against her.

“We should check on Giles,” Dawn said again, nodding confidently. Alamo yelped his approval.

**

Cordelia switched off the computer.

“All set?” asked Angel.

“Uh huh. Hi from Giles, hi from Lorne---he misses Kate already, isn’t that cute? He’s only been back in L.A. for about three hours and the first thing he did was compose a long, whining email to me about how much he misses Kate.”

“And he’s telling you because…”

“There was some sort of seize the day undertone in there, I think. You know, his beloved is afar and mine is…a…near. And I should take advantage of that…well, advantage…”

“Ah.”

“Honestly, Angel, I think that if Dawn could read that email, she’d find his swami mojo act a lot less compelling. He’s not a guru, he’s a sap.”

“Really.”

“I mean, more of a sap than you, even, and don’t tell me you aren’t a sap cause I know you and you are.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I only skimmed after paragraph three of how sweet Kate is, and how brave she is for putting up with all the magic stuff, which she hates, and how hard it’s been for her, but how she’s really making progress, and how love conquers all, and how it’s been three hours since he left L.A. and he hasn’t heard from her yet and if only he could hear her sweet voice and know she’s okay, but you get my drift. Sap central.”

“Uh huh,” said Angel.

“Anyway,” said Cordelia, briskly clapping her hands. “We can go patrol. Or we can go downstairs and pound things. I’m good either way.”

He smiled, but the smile was bittersweet. “You really are adjusting.”

“Huh?”

“And that’s good,” he said thoughtfully. “Because in the long run, it’ll be easier if you do. But…it’s a little sad, isn’t it? If both those options strike you as a fun way to spend an evening…”

Cordelia sighed. “Okay, I admit, this new vampire attributes thing HAS given me a little more energy to burn than I am used to, and there are only so many ways to…release it…”

His grim smile tightened. “I know. I figured.”

“No, I don’t think you did. Cause I was going to continue and say that there’s more to us than that, Angel. It’s not just a question of magic and curses and demons anymore. We’re in a relationship. And unlike most relationships, it’s not one that we can leave---this is kind of our only chance, isn’t it?. So…well, let’s just say that I am a little more motivated than usual to make this relationship work.”

He felt goosebumps: actual, ominous goosebumps. “Oh?”

She nodded earnestly. “I’ve been reading the self-help books, and they all say that the best way to keep a relationship healthy is quality time---you know, taking in an interest in your partner’s hobbies and activities.”

“Ah.”

“So I figure…” She shrugged. “You patrol, I patrol. You kicky-fighty, I kicky-fighty. At least now, I can keep up properly. And when Christmas season hits and the malls stay open late, I’ll drag you with me, and you’ll come.”

“Because it’s very important to take an interest in your partner’s hobbies and activities,” guessed Angel.

“Right. See? You’re making progress too. I can loan you the book when I’m done with it.”

He gulped. “Oh.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “In fact, I think there might even be a set of audio tapes that go with it.”

**

Dawn traced the faint footprints out to the yard, where she finally found Giles sprawled supine on the grass, a dreamy smile lighting up his tired, craggy features.

“Hey,” she said.

He nodded.

“Didn’t think I’d find you here.”

He angled his face toward her. “It’s beautiful out here. I’d never looked at them, you know---the stars? You get so caught up in…well, problems, that sometimes you forget to enjoy the little things. And the other night, in your treehouse---well, I didn’t have to look up at them. They were just…there.”

Dawn nodded.

“Never thanked you for that, did I? For letting me in, for letting me see…”

He nodded heavenward. “For that…we’re even,” he said softly. “You owed me one, and now you’ve paid it out.”

She shifted over slightly and let Alamo scoot between them. “Okay.”

When Buffy came back from patrol half an hour later, that was how she found them: Dawn, half-asleep, head nuzzled into the crook of Giles arm…and her man so spellbound by the stars and the peace and the hard-earned human contact that he was completely oblivious to Alamo’s slobbery kisses.

**

Angel gingerly helped Cordelia slide her jacket off.

“Still a little jumpy?” he asked.

“And a little bruised. Ow. Owwww! Angel, careful!”

“Sorry.”

“And stop smirking.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. All smirky about how your wussly little girlfriend shouldn’t have been out in the dark with you and gotten herself all…OWWW! Angel!!!!”

He carefully pried open her clenched fist and pulled the last of her arm out of the sleeve. “Okay,” he said. “You’re okay now.”

“And it’s not like I wasn’t holding my own out there. Okay, so my fighting skills are maybe a teeny bit less polished than yours and I don’t QUITE have your vampire strength, but that wasn’t…”

“I know,” he soothed.

“I mean, I did okay, just…still mostly human, you know? And still have mostly human blindspots. He snuck up behind me and there was a shadow and OWWW! How is that still hurting if you aren’t even touching me?”

“Shhhhhh,” he murmured, stroking her cheek. “It’s okay, Cordelia.”

She fidgeted away from him. “And I’m STILL way too jumpy. I have all this energy, and I can’t sit still…”

“It’s okay,” he said again.

“It’s not. I feel awful.”

“You’re tired, and you’re hurt. That’s understandable.”

“Aggh! Will you quit with the Zenmaster condescendo-man already? You’re not so perfect either, you know.”

“Really…”

“Well, you are really irritating me, for one thing.”

“Ah.”

“Angel, I don’t FEEL good!” she moaned, swatting his arm unhappily. The movement made her wince. “And owwwww……”

He took her face in his hands with one hand, and with the other, gently traced the emerging bruises on her arm. “Okay,” he said. “You may still have energy to burn, but you are feeling that fight, and you are feeling those bruises, and you’re letting your demon hormones run away with you again. What do we do when we start feeling this way?”

She took a deep breath.

“That’s my girl. And?”

She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled and exhaled, deeply and smoothly to a count of ten. “Okay.”

“Now, I could make you wait it out,” he said. “And you could do it, if I asked you to. You could wait it out, and you could beat it, and you could function even while part of you was working that hard. But you were good, even with the blind spot. And you were brave. And you are a little more tired than you think you are. So I’m letting you off the hook this once. Pizza or ice cream?”

She sank to the sofa. “Do we have the cookie dough kind?”

“We do.”

She fidgeted. “Still a little jumpy though.”

“I know. We can take care of that too. Those bruises are all above the waist, as I recall.”

She nodded, eyes huge.

**

The answering machine clicked on for the fourth time that evening.

“Kate? It’s Lorne, pick up…”

“Go away,” she told it glumly.

“Sweetheart? I know you’re there…you always come home when you work the night shift, and with me out of town, I figured you’d work late…”

In her darkened bedroom, she nodded. “I did.”

“So I figured that if you weren’t passed out in bed by now with a good book, that you might be up for a little phone se…”

The tape cut off, and she swallowed gratefully, snuggling deeper under the sheets and away from the soul-ripping scrawls of the dead, the terror of magic, the panic of fear, the slow, haunting realization that there are monsters, and there are demons, and there are kinds of evil that can’t be locked away…

Marlena’s diary slid out of her hands and tumbled to the floor. She uttered a silent prayer that it would not follow her into her dreams again.

**

Buffy shivered awake and reached blindly for Giles.

“Ummm,” he murmured sleepily.

“Morning, sunshine,” she teased. “You must have slept well---what with having ALL the blankets and everything…”

He jolted awake. “Hmmmm? What?”

She bit back a chuckle. “Easy, tiger, it’s okay. In fact, it’s kind of cute--- you all wrapped up and snuggly like that…”

He kicked off the blanket with an irritable grunt. “Stop teasing me.”

Buffy beamed him an indulgent smile. “That’s my guy. So grumpy when you first wake up. Like a little kid. It’s…well, it’s adorable.”

He glowered darkly.

“Plus,” she continued brightly. “I’d almost forgotten that you were naked under there.” She swept her eye deliciously over the discarded blankets, and the bare flesh they now exposed. “You’ve got Goosebumps all over, and in very cute places.”

He clutched his hand protectively between his legs. “Do not!”

She nuzzled gently at the nearest earlobe. “Oh, come on. Grey skies are gonna clear up, put on a happy face. You aren’t really in a bad mood, are you? It’s just the just-woken-up-itis?”

He shrugged, and stretched languidly with an off-hand yawn. “I suppose it is,” he admitted. “Morning, love.”

“Well, that’s better. Morning.” She traced a ring around his belly button with her pinkie finger. “Well, then, brain of my loins, what’s on the table for today?”

He playfully wrapped a stray lock of her hair around his fingers. “Well, I’m meeting Willow at the magic shop at ten. Still some translation to work on…”

She glanced over his head to the clock by her bedside. “So that gives us, what, two hours?”

“Why? Did you have plans?”

She untwirled his finger from her hair and nuzzled her now-free head gently onto his bare chest, letting her curls lap gently across his side. “I don’t know. Do YOU have plans?”

She waited for the tell-tale glow of lust in his eye before she began to gently work the wave of hair across him, under his side, over his chest, contorting her body atop his own as she twisted and writhed and brushed his skin methodically with her golden curls.

He stiffened beneath her. “Ummmmmm.”

She rolled her head, like swimming, and trolled her locks across his thighs, letting the ends lap gently between his legs. He tensed beneath her.

“Ummmmm. Wait…”

She paused. “What?”

“Just…” He fidgeted, uncomfortably this time, and tried to squirm from under her. “Just…give me a minute…”

Buffy frowned. “The Rapunzel thing’s not superhero enough for you?”

“Not that, just…” Beneath her, he was stiff and erect. “Not sure I can wait until you’re…” He kicked reflexively. “Well, you don’t want me to…well, right INTO your hair, do you?”

“Oh.” She rolled to the side, then brushed her hair out of the way before she mounted him again. “All ready?”

The phone began shrieking urgently, and she felt him go instantly soft and flaccid beneath her. “Let the machine get it?” she offered, stroking him hastily in a last-ditch effort to restore the mood.

The machine clicked on. “Buffy?” yelled Lorne into the tape. “Giles? Anyone? You’re there, aren’t you? Look, it’s Lorne, and believe it or not, this is business. On the off-chance that you two are not answering the phone because you’re having sex right now, I’ll give you five minutes to finish up before I…”

Buffy sighed and picked up the phone. “Lorne?”

“Oh. Hi, Buffy.”

“Hi.”

“Am I interrupting?”

“Sorta. Almost. I mean, yes…”

“Oh. Well, anyway, seen Kate lately?”

“Huh?”

“I need you to check on her,” the demon said. “She hasn’t called.”

“And you’re calling me first thing in the morning for this?”

“No, I called HER first thing in the morning, and she wasn’t at home. So I tried her at the station, and guess what? She called in sick. She wasn’t there either.”

“So where is she, then?”

“The million dollar question. Look, hon, she’s been playing brave little soldier for me and being a sweetheart about the whole evil lawyer mess that I’ve been helping your gang out with. But with me in L.A. again…”

Buffy frowned. “You’re thinking she’s cracking?”

“Nobody to keep the mask on for. This is way out of her league.”

“She’s a cop, Lorne. I’m sure she’s seen her share of…”

“That she has. But underneath it all, she’s just like the rest of us, cupcake: a wounded little child who needs a little stroking. She may be brave and she may be tough, but most people aren’t like you. They need a few illusions.”

“Lorne…”

“I think even I underestimated just how hard this hit,” he admitted. “But Kate…in the last few years, she’s fought demons and vampires and monsters, and she’s held up somehow, because she still had one illusion left---that there once WAS a simpler time. That there once WAS a happier time she could look back on…”

And now Kate was realizing that wasn’t true. That her innocent friend had not been innocent, that she had died alone and afraid and looking evil in the eye…it was just like Giles had told her: it wasn’t academic anymore. Buffy swallowed her pride, her guilt, her lingering resentment of how Kate had treated her, and felt the first faint twinges of sympathy for her neighbour.

“Lorne? Where would she go?”

**

Cordelia opened her eyes to the smell of coffee.

“Angel?”

He pushed a tray beside her. “Breakfast in bed. Sleep well?”

“Once we finally started sleeping. Ummm, this is nice.”

He peeled back the blankets and carefully checked her for bruises. “Already healing,” he told her with a grin. “That’s my girl.”

She hoisted herself onto her elbows and grimaced. “Sure, kill the mood with talk of Cordelia the demon-hybrid freak with the super-powers.”

Angel sighed. “Super-powers are nothing to be ashamed of, Cordelia. I have super-powers.”

“Yeah, but you have the temperament, experience and appropriate leather clothing to go with them, Angel. Not to mention the body mass to handle a little kick without going hormonal. God, look at me. Just TALKING about it makes me starved. You didn’t bring me peanut butter. Why didn’t you bring me peanut butter?”

“Now, let’s not get ourselves worked up,” he soothed.

Cordelia glowered. “Sure. Mister Condescendo who doesn’t NEED protein to regulate his psycho demon anatomy. Easy for YOU to talk…”

Angel, still not entirely sure how he had gotten himself into this, kept his face impassive. “Cordelia, I feel annoyed when you use that tone of voice with me.”

She blinked. “Huh? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I feel uncomfortable when you use that language around me.”

“ANGEL…”

“I feel threatened when you shout at me,” he said calmly.

She sat fully upright and gave him a funny look. “No, Angel, seriously. Why ARE you talking like that?”

He blinked innocently. “I-statements are the hallmark of healthy interpersonal communication.”

“Uh, right, sure, of course they are. But…wait, where’d you get THAT from?”

“Well, I was still a little wired, after our…last night. And I couldn’t fall asleep right away. So I was looking for some books to read…”

She dug beneath his pillow and pulled out two volumes. “Okay, so this is the one I’VE been reading, and this…” She froze again, the glint of tension returning to her eyes. “Angel? Where did you get THIS one?”

“Well, I zipped through that first one pretty quick, but you had SO many, so I asked Phantom Dennis for some suggestions…”

Cordelia waved the offending volume at him angrily. “And he gave you ‘101 Nights of Great Sex?’”

Angel preemptively plugged his ears.

“DENNIS!!!!” Cordelia shrieked. “You weren’t watching last night. TELL me you weren’t watching.”

A lump bubbled up beneath the sheets, as if their ghostly roommate was hiding.

“And we’ve TALKED about privacy, Dennis, you know we have. No bedroom, no bathroom, unless someone’s injured.” Her voice rose again. “TELL me you weren’t watching!”

Angel cleared his throat. “Um, Cordelia?”

She turned on him, nearly knocking over her coffee.

“WHAT?”

“I feel anxious when you shout like that.”

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to a count of ten. “I have school. I’m showering.” She hopped off the bed. “Alone,” she added pointedly, to the two lumps of men on her bed. But on her way past Angel, she paused for just a moment to gently kiss her fingers and touch them to his cheek.

**

In the plane’s cabin, the air was pleasant and cool.

“This is the stuff,” drawled Spike, reclining his chair and stretching luxuriously. “Peanuts, tiny bottles of vodka, tinted windows so we all don’t collapse into heaps of dust…”

They crested on a sudden patch of turbulence, and Lilah clutched the armrest and gulped sickly.

“Put your chair up,” she ordered.

“Why? The sky police gonna write me a ticket? This is a private plane, love. I can do as I like.”

“Yes. A private plane belonging to Wolfram and Hart, of which I am a duly authorized…”

“Oh, stuff it.” He smiled playfully at Harmony. “Gatekeeper gets a little grumpy when she’s feeling sickly,” he said. “You up for some fun?”

Lilah’s eyes widened anxiously, but Harmony folded her arms and turned away from him. “With you? I don’t think so.”

“Oh, still on THAT kick, are we? Really, Harm, you going to let a teensy little quarrel get in the way of some action? Some vampire YOU are.”

“Like you’d get away with it! And anyway, it wasn’t a quarrel, Spike. You dumped me!”

“What, for her?” He nodded at Lilah, who was clutching a thus far unused paper bag with sweaty fingers. “You think I dumped you for HER? Oh, no, Harm, Lilah and I are just…look, I haven’t even shagged her yet!”

“Sure you have---in your dreams! You want to, Spike. Admit it.”

“So? I want lots of things. A puppy. A set of drums. One of them Palm Pilot things. Just WANTING them doesn’t make me a preppie though.”

Harmony stubbornly hook her head. “I’m not talking to you.”

Spike shrugged. “Fine, have it your way. And one of these days, when I am sitting down to my fresh and hot fillet-o-witch---we’ll see if I save YOU a helping!”

He clicked on his discman and nearly whimpered at the hiss of static that greeted him. Here he was stuck on a sodding charter plane that didn’t even have an in-flight magazine, and Lilah had filched his Great Big Sea CD again…

A bloke could go insane.

**

Cordelia barreled into the Hyperion and dropped her knapsack on the floor.

“Angel?”

He emerged from the office, clothes still askew from hasty dressing, and still toweling dry his damp hair. Cordelia frowned. "You were training,” she accused.

He cast his eyes about distractedly, looking for a place to stash his wet towel. “Hmmm?”

“Training,” she said. “You only shower in the middle of the day if you’ve been training. WITHOUT me!”

“You were gone all day, Cordelia. I had to keep busy.” He beamed her a placating smile. “Speaking of, how was school?”

She fluttered to the newly installed mini-fridge behind the counter and began foraging for snacks. “Lynne Ivany remains the coolest prof ever,” she gushed. “During class, there was a fire alarm, and when we came back, she started grilling us on what happened. It was hilarious. Here we were all glad for the break and going for coffee, and she’s interrogating the fire chief and trying to get the scoop. Open?” She stopped mid-rant to toss Angel a jar of salsa. He twisted off the lid and passed it back to her, settling on the round sofa to listen.

“Anyway, we did this mock news story thing that was WAY cool. She gave us this fake crime report, and we had to write it up like a…well, okay, it WAS kind of lame, but she LOVED mine and read it to the class and THAT was cool…”

She crunched a chip. “So THAT’S all working out,” she continued. “But after lunch? Fundamentals of television news reporting? God!” She reached behind her and withdrew a jar of sour cream, which she liberally poured onto the chip and salsa concoction. “Professor Tsuji is SO lame. I mean, he takes his job WAY too seriously, for one thing, all ‘news reporting is a SERIOUS profession, and you WILL work hard for me.’ And he says some of us may have come into his class thinking that it’s all about looking pretty and that we’ll get a free ride, or perhaps---and here, he stares straight at ME, Angel---some of us came to L.A for other reasons entirely and that we are seeing his class as our last chance to get our pretty faces on T.V.---I mean, god, nerve much? And that’s SO not true. I’m taking his class because it’s a compulsory. And I may have wanted the actress thing at one point in time, but honestly, Angel, I think I have enough going on in my life right now that the last thing I need is a second career where on top of anything else, I have to actually look PRETTY all the time…”

He smirked. “I think you look pretty.”

“Geez, I know you do. Horny much? Anyway, THAT was kind of a buzz killer after my morning of intellectual specialness, but the LACU student centre is, like, half a block from this GREAT shoe store…”

Angel frowned. “You went shopping.”

“Well, duh. What else would I do? You know, they say money can’t buy happiness, but really, that isn’t true, is it?”

He shook his head. “Cordelia…”

She abruptly burst into a grin. “I was teasing, you big goof. Well, okay, maybe not entirely. I did get as far as the shoe store, but I did not buy a single thing. I was standing in there looking at all of those shoes and thinking you know what? I don’t need shoes right now. I need a hug.”

She hopped to her feet and flung her arms around him. “We’ve had it bad, a little,” she said, snuggling into his arms. “I know we have. But you know what? I’m happy. I’m finally, actually happy. In the general sense, I mean.”

He hugged her back, deciding that now was not the time to mention the ominous karmic twitch of foreboding that had been niggling in his gut all day. Time enough for that later, he supposed, nibbling her ear with tiny kisses. Time enough for that later.

**

It was almost nightfall, and the stars were barely visible from Kate’s small porch.

“Hey,” said Buffy. She brushed the dusty step with her palm, then sat down beside her shivering neighbour.

“Thought I’d find you in the treehouse,” she said.

Kate shrugged. “Dawn was up there.”

“Ah. Quite the little hot spot, isn’t it?”

Kate rocked gently on her heels. “Guess so. Look, no offense, but I sorta wanted to be…”

“Alone? Don’t think so. If you wanted to be alone, you’d be in a bar. Or on the street, pounding some guy’s face in the ground.”

“Right,” sniveled Kate. “Cause you just have me all figured out?”

“It isn’t hard. I mean, you didn’t really think that you could just…that we wouldn’t worry? That we wouldn’t find you?”

“So? You found me. One point for you.”

“Uh huh. Look, can we talk?”

Kate shrugged.

“And let me start with the fact my sympathy for what you’re going through does NOT make that pissy attitude of yours any less annoying…”

Kate snorted. “Great. Pity.”

“Didn’t say pity. Said sympathy.”

Embarassed silence. Buffy smiled. “That’s better. Look, Kate…”

Kate shook her head. “Just don’t, okay? I’m just really not in the mood for a…look, the last thing I need right now is a pep talk from you.”

“Who said I was going to give you a pep talk? You want to bail?” Buffy shrugged. “Fine. Bail.”

Kate stopped cold. “Really.”

“Why not? It’s a battle,” said Buffy. “And you either enlist, or you stay safely at home and let the soldiers do their jobs. No shame in that.”

Kate jutted her chin with defiant anger. “I am not a quitter! I’m not just going to sit back and WATCH while YOU go off and…”

“Again, I say, why not? A soldier who isn’t fit for battle is going to get the whole platoon killed off. This isn’t cop stuff, Kate, this is magic. And evil. And…and destiny. You think I like it any better than you? You think I haven’t wished---a hundred times, a thousand times---that I even had the option, like you have, to run away?”

“That isn’t fair!”

“I know it’s not. And I do understand that. Knowing what’s really out there is hard enough. Knowing, and not being built to fight it---that would be worse. What you must be going through…”

Kate pounded her fist into her palms. “But I shouldn’t NEED super-powers! I fought before. I’ve hurt before. Why is this different?”

Buffy regarded her somberly. “You know why.”

Kate shook her head. “It shouldn’t matter. I’m braver than that. I’m tougher than that.”

“Brave is not a contest, Kate. We all have our place in things. You know,” she said thoughtfully. “I have this aunt in Pasadena…and her thing is flower arranging. Flower arranging! Can you believe that? She gets up every morning, takes her kids to school, then comes home and does flower arranging. And that might not seem like much next to saving the world, but you know…people buy the flowers.”

Kate didn’t answer. Buffy gave her neighbour’s hand a final encouraging squeeze, then rose from the step and hopped the brushes to her own house without another word.

**

Cordelia strolled into the office, still licking cheeseburger off of her fingers, to find Angel seated at the desk---computer on and hand on the mouse, at ready.

“What’s this?” she said, squinting at the blinking computer screen in confusion.

“Scooby summit,” he said. “In…” he glanced at his watch. “Eight minutes.”

“I know that. But you…you hate computers. In fact, I didn’t even think you knew how to turn it on.”

He grinned proudly. “You aren’t the only one who’s learning.”

She plopped down on his lap. “Uh huh. So, any activity yet?”

He hesitated. “You aren’t mad?”

“Why would I be?”

“Well…you, spending time away from me. Me, spending time away from you. Naturally, there would be some…well, on both sides, there would be…”

“What, jealousy? Oh, please. Number one, you really aren’t the only person who’s learning. Number two, unlike some people, I am not some sicko lovelorn stalker who must keep tabs on my beloved’s every move. And number three…well, if you really WERE doing anything I needed to be worrying about, Dennis would tell me, so…”

Angel’s smug grin dimmed. “Oh. Right.”

“See, there is that jealous-boy thing I was only just talking about. Seriously, Angel, that is REALLY irritating. Just remember that the only person you really need to love you best is me…and I do.”

He strengthened. “Yes. Of course.”

“I mean, who really cares if Dennis likes me better than you? Or Wesley? Or Giles? Or…”

“I get it,” he said archly. “Really, Cor.”

She sighed and wiped her fingers on the corner of his shirt. “Well, okay. Ready if you are…”

He nodded, maximized the souped-up AOL instant messenger window and typed

‘Hi Sunnydale.’

**

Dawn hopped to her feet. “Wow, look at the time. I’d better go walk Alamo…”

Buffy and Giles traded glances. “You can stay, Dawn,” said Buffy gently. “We talked about this.”

“Yeah, I know we did, and really, it’s great that you’ve dropped the whole ‘Dawn is a useless baby’ thing, but you know what? Cordelia is right. There DO need to be boundaries in our lives, don’t there? You guys need to have your thing, and that’s cool.”

“Dawnie…”

“Buffy, it’s okay. You promise to tell me things when I need to know them, right?”

“Dawn, of course…”

“Well than, have fun. Say hi to Cordelia for me. And when I get back from walking Alamo, we can sit down to tea and cookies and you can give me the condensed version, okay? We cool?”

Buffy grinned. “Very. And since when did you drink tea?”

Dawn shrugged. “Giles has been showing me stuff. I’ve been showing him stuff. It’s a thing.”

She grabbed Alamo’s leash off the table and flounced out the door. Buffy traded smirks with Giles, then responded to the insistent beeping of her AOL screen with a cheerful

‘Hey L.A.’

**

Angel was halfway through an amusing anecdote about Wesley and a Fyarl demon, when he felt the shadow behind them. He tensed, and could feel Cordelia’s heartbeat quicken; she had noticed it too. She casually wrapped his arm around her, then, as one, they turned away from the computer screen.

“Oh, no…” moaned Cordelia. She eased out of Angel’s arms and typed ‘brb’ into the messenger window. “What are YOU doing here?”

Sam Zabuto smiled. “Filling in the missing pieces, I’d wager. Let’s talk, shall we?”

**

Buffy spun in her seat and only barely had time to stop her fist from connecting with the now-identifiable face.

“Great,” she sighed, standing down from her fighting stance. “How’d YOU get in?”

“Door was open,” he said. “Rather careless, really…”

“Dawn’s out with Alamo,” said Buffy dazedly, eyes locked on Giles. “We left it open for Dawn and Alamo…”

“Yes, yes,” the visitor said. “Fascinating, I’m sure, but Buffy, we must talk immediately…”

She spun away from him again, and her eyes flashed briefly to the computer screen, and Cordelia’s most recent message: BRB. Be right back. Stunned, she turned her attention back to the visitor.

“So, what, they’ve got one too? Did you guys tag team or something?”

Quentin Travers allowed himself a tiny smile. “Actually, yes. Which should give you some indication as to just how dire the situation is.”

**

“I’m not certain how much you’ve already figured out,” began Sam.

“Enough,” said Angel stiffly.

“Some,” corrected Cordelia. “They’re planning a spell. They’re going to use her, use Miss Calendar to…to power it somehow.”

Sam nodded. “Tap into her power like a mystical jumper cable,” he affirmed. “And a witch of her caliber…”

“The only thing we haven’t figured out,” said Angel slowly. “Is what spell…exactly…they’re going to use her for.”

Sam nodded. “They’re going to open the Hellmouth,” he said simply. “They are going to use her…to open the Hellmouth.”

**

“The Hellmouth,” repeated Buffy. “You’re sure?”

“Quite sure. We keep an eye on several markers of mystical activity, as you know. We aren’t so out of the loop as you think we are.”

“Maybe not,” said Buffy. “But those lawyers are. Haven’t they heard that I’m on the Hellmouth? And that is hasn’t been successfully opened since I came?”

“We can handle the Hellmouth,” affirmed Xander from the corner. “And hey, home turf advantage…”

Quentin shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re misunderstanding me. They aren’t coming HERE, exactly. They’re…”

“But you said Hellmouth,” said Buffy. “And this is the Hellmouth, right?”

Quentin’s eyes flash brief incredulity before he burst into stunned laughter.

“You mean to tell me,” he clarified between chuckles. “That you thought there was just one?”

**

9: Blame Canada

Cordelia Chase cast a squinty eye to her watch, then to the gate of the airport terminal.

“Where are they, already?” she whined. “We’ll never make our flight if they don’t get here soon.”

Angel did not even glance up from his book. With a grunt of half-attention, he reached into his pocket, snatched out a bundle of quarters, and pressed it into Cordelia’s palm. She pushed him aside with an irritable whimper.

“I’ve already DONE vending machines,” she told him. “I’m not HUNGRY…”

He glanced up briefly from his intent reading. “Um hmmm.”

He said nothing else. The book was one of Cordelia’s relationship ones, and had, a mere three chapters ago, explained to him that sometimes women Got That Way---and when they did, there was Nothing You Could Do. He had wisely resolved to keep his mouth shut until Buffy and Giles arrived. Perhaps seeing Giles again would ease Cordelia’s travel stress…

“They should BE here,” she said again. “Angel, why aren’t they here?”

Finally, he put the book down. “Cordelia, our flight doesn’t leave for another hour.”

“I know, just…we’ve been here for over an hour already. It’s hot. It’s crowded. There are too many sticky children, and people who didn’t shower, and at least four especially pungent ethnic food vendors. I may have my demon temper under control, but my vampire sense of smell is driving me crazy!”

“I know,” he said, not unsympathetically. “But you can never be too early for these kinds of things. If there had been traffic….”

“There wasn’t.”

“But there could have been. It’s a lot to juggle, Cordelia---getting us all on the same flight on such short notice, finding a connection from Sunnydale that would get them here in time to meet us for it…it’s a lot to juggle. But we still have time, and they’ll still get here, and it’ll be fine.”

She narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Don’t get smug on me, unflappable boy. YOU had nothing to do with this brilliant scheme. Why I ever agreed to let the Watcher’s Council tell me what to…”

“You know why,” he interrupted. “Cordelia, we talked about this…”

“Yeah, yeah, world’s gonna end, too bad, very sorry, I know. Angel, I KNOW. Just wish it could blow up on a weekend for once….”

Ah. There it was. He closed the book and tucked it into his bag. “Is that the problem? It’s only a few days, Cordelia. You can make up the classes.”

“I know,” she pouted. “But missing classes in the first week…well, Professor Tsuji was kind of a pain about it, but at least Ivany was okay. When she heard about my poor, dead Aunt Petunia…”

Angel smothered a chuckle.

“What?” she huffed. “I wasn’t gonna tell her we’re going to prevent some evil lawyers from opening a Hellmouth and bringing about the end of life as we know it, was I? And it’s not like the watchers gave us much time to come up with a proper cover story for those of us with actual lives…”

He sensed a tunnel of adrenaline beneath the rising flush in her cheeks. “Why don’t we practice our deep breathing for awhile?” he suggested.

Her nostrils flared. “You don’t breathe! And don’t treat me like a baby.”

“Don’t act like one.”

He winced slightly at her withering glare. He was ready to cut her some slack for the shock of another watcher visit and resulting Bad News, and for the sudden, disrupting trip, and the overload of her souped-up senses. But still…they had a long day ahead of them. She had to manage, didn’t she?

“Look, I’m not the best traveler either,” he began carefully. “And I know the watcher’s council tends to…well, they…”

“Freak me out? Heck, yeah. But can you blame me? They swoop in all mysterious and go here, do this, and they run experiments on innocent people just because they happen to be human/vampire hybrids, and then they…”

“Shhhh,” he soothed. “I was saying, I know they make you feel that way. But I also know how much progress you’ve been making at keeping your demon attributes under control. You’re really going to let them get you mad enough to cause a relapse?”

Her frenzied pacing slowed microscopically. “Angel…”

“And it’s not SO bad, is it?” he pressed. “I mean, free vacation---and one American dollar is, like, a dollar-fifty there. There could be shopping. Who can say?”

She was nearly still again. “I guess…”

“And hey, Giles is coming…”

She broke into a grin. “He is! And Buffy too.”

“So why don’t we sit down and do our breathing for a few minutes,” Angel said calmly. “And before you know it, their plane will be here, and we can get this show on the road.”

She took a deep breath and slowly breathed out, body slackening and eyes drifting closed. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

**

Alamo Summers had been cruising along for his morning walk and stopping occasionally to sniffle at some especially interesting leaves, so his mistress Dawn had let the leash slacken, and was caught off-guard when he suddenly burst into a trot.

“Alamo, come,” Dawn commanded, tugging on his collar. “Alamo! Alamo, what are you…” They rounded the corner, and she suddenly broke into a grin. “Did you see your little friend? Is that what has you all excited? Well, we’re almost home. Go on, then.” She unhooked the leash and sent him running straight for the front lawn of Kate Lockley.

Bruiser was nosing in the bushes, but shook off the leaves and went tearing after Alamo with an enthusiastic bark. Kate was otherwise occupied, and didn’t even look up.

Several open boxes lay scattered at her feet. On her one side lay a half-filled garbage bag, and on the other lay her car, parked crookedly, trunk open. Kate was humming along with the radio and reaching randomly into the boxes, pitching some items into the trunk and others into the cavernous bag. Dawn took in the scene with resigned curiosity.

“Cleaning house?”

Kate looked up. “Oh, hi. Want this?” She waved the belonging in question, a moldy-smelling novelty rubber chicken, at Dawn.

“No. Um, Kate, what’s going on here?”

Kate pitched the rubber chicken into her garbage bag. “Exactly what it looks like. I’m leaving this dump, and going back to L.A. I turned in my resignation this morning.”

“You didn’t!”

“Did too. I,” said Kate grandly. “Am unemployed. At leisure. Between jobs. Pursuing new opportunities.” She dug a grubby hand into the nearest box, and pulled out six assorted pairs of scissors, bound together with a grubby elastic. “Want these?”

“No. Kate , what’s going on here? What are you DOING?”

“I’m DOING nothing,” said Kate breezily. “Which explains the whole unemployment thing. Want these?”

“Again, no,” said Dawn, not even dignifying the item in question with so much as a glance. “But Kate, are you…look, are you okay?”

“Fabulous,” said Kate. “Wonderful. And I’ll tell you why, Dawn. I had an epiphany.”

Dawn frowned. “Oh.”

Kate nodded. “I did. And do you know what I realized? I realized that I had no effing idea what the hell I was doing with my life. I mean, sure, I was a cop, fighting the fight and all that, and that’s good, I guess. But how did I get there? I’ll tell you how I got there. My grandfather was a cop. My father was a cop. And if Mom had lived long enough to have a son, HE would have been a cop. Do you see what I am saying?”

“It’s a family business?” Dawn guessed.

“Damn right,” said Kate. “A family business. I just got INTO it. I never CHOSE.”

“And now you’re saying you’ve had this epiphany or something, and you realize you want to choose something else?”

Kate shrugged. “Maybe not. Maybe I really am meant to be a cop. But maybe I’m meant to be something else, Dawn. Maybe I’m meant to be a Spanish teacher. Or a social worker. Or a waitress at Caritas, for all I know. I never really thought beyond…But I need to figure it out. I need to figure out what in this world I’m meant to do.”

“And right now, you feel like you’re meant to pack up and just…leave?”

“Only one thing I do know for sure,” said Kate, slowing her excited pacing just long enough to toss some rusted barbecue tongs into the trunk of her car. “Whatever it is I’m meant to do be doing, I want Lorne to be there. Kind of ironic, isn’t it? All these normal, awful men who love me and leave me, and it would be a demon who would finally get it right?”

She reached into her box again, and pulled out a stuffed toy that was shaped like Elvis Presley. “So…you want this?”

“Alamo!” Dawn shrieked. Her loyal puppy reluctantly drew himself away from a vitally important twig, and ambled happily into her embrace. “How do I get myself into these messes?” she asked him. He slobbered her with oblivious doggy kisses, betraying no answer.

**

Cordelia slowly unclenched her fists, eyes sharp with the faintest beginnings of panic.

“It isn’t working, is it?” she said.

Angel shrugged evasively, and looked away. He had no idea what to do with her. They had worked through all of her exercises, and her breathing HAD slowed a little---but it was shaky and strained, and her heart was still beating too fast. She was managing, but she was working much too hard at it.

“Why can’t I relax?” she pressed. “Angel, seriously. I’m starting to wonder if this isn’t something more than just tired and travel-stressed . I’m all tense and ick and I just feel...weird, you know?” She looked at him expectantly.

“I know,” he said after a long silence.

“You know? You KNOW? God, stop that! I see what you’re doing, and it isn’t helping, Angel. You’re keeping your mouth shut because you don’t want to freak me out, but it’s only making it worse! God, what’s WRONG with me?”

“Cordelia…”

“And don’t tell me that getting upset will only make it worse, I know. Angel, I KNOW. It just drives me crazy when you get like this! And no, I don’t want to eat something. And no, I don’t want to practice my breathing exercises. I just want you to STOP that!”

“Cor…”

“This isn’t helping!” she whined. “God, Angel, just shut up!”

She slumped breathlessly beside him, utterly exhausted by her tantrum. He gave her a moment to collect herself.

“I WAS shutting up,” he said quietly. “THAT’S what got you upset in the first place.”

She closed her eyes. Clenched her fists. Then suddenly sprang to her feet and tore away from him.

“Giles!”

She launched herself down the corridor and threw herself into the arms of the arriving watcher.

“You’re here! Finally!”

Giles staggered slightly, reeling from the collision. “Yes,” he managed. “Hello, Cordelia. Good to see you…”

“Hi Giles,” said Angel shyly. “Buffy…”

Buffy, loaded down with Giles’ bag as well as her own, trundled over to the nearest bank of chairs, where she set down her burden.

“You guys been waiting long?” she asked.

That, finally, set Cordelia off. Still wrapped tightly around a nearly suffocating Giles, she burst into tears. Giles looked questioningly at Angel.

“She’s tired,” Angel said.

Giles nodded, and gently began to stroke Cordelia’s hair. “It’s all right, love,” he soothed. “Hush now…”

“That’s quite a tantrum,” Buffy observed.

Angel shrugged. “It’s been a long day.”

Buffy watched the display impassively. “Probably best she gets it out of her system now, isn’t it? BEFORE the big holy mission?”

“Probably,” Angel agreed.

“And this is exactly what I was saying,” sobbed Cordelia. “I don’t know what’s WRONG with me!”

With an unbearably comforting smile, Giles gently lifted her chin. “Would it surprise you very much to learn that I do know?”

The blubbering slowed to a watery trickle. “You do?”

“You DO?” goggled Angel.

“What, did you think that ponce Zabuto was the only one who was doing a little research?”

They stared back at him, stunned.

“They tell me we’re delayed again,” said Giles. “We’ve got some time…” He gently pried Cordelia off of him. “So why don’t you go with Buffy right now and get yourself cleaned up a little, hmmm? And when you come back, Angel and I will have some juice and some cookies and all sorts of pretty answers, all right?”

She snuffled noisily and pulled herself together. With a nod of encouragement from Giles, she allowed Buffy to lead her away.

**

Lilah Morgan backed slowly into her hotel room, carelessly waving her hand behind her.

“Yes, over there,” she commanded. “That’s right…”

Jenny Calendar’s arm flopped to the floor with a thud as Spike released his cargo.

“She’s not a bloody couch, Lilah.”

Lilah rolled her eyes. “I know that. Just…fine, put her anywhere, I don’t care, just keep her out of my way!”

“But she’s your little pet, love. Don’t you want to play with her?”

Lilah gave Jenny a thoughtful once-over. “Well, it WOULD be a little more fun if she were interactive. But then…if she can move, she can bolt, can’t she?” Lilah shrugged. “She’s harmless this way.”

“Maybe. But even more harmless once you’ve put her through the paces and made sure she’s as out of it as you think.”

Lilah shook her head. “You just want an excuse to play with her.”

“Maybe I do. But being horny don’t make me a dunce, pet. I know her type---do-gooder through and through. If she’s pulling the mojo on us…well, Just want to make sure it all goes off okay…”

Lilah thumped Jenny with her boot and studied the witch’s face carefully for signs of a reaction.

“There!” crowed Spike. “She winced, did you see?”

Lilah smirked. “Really?” She leaned forward, mouth inches from Jenny’s face. “Is somebody waking up in there? Hmmmm?”

The eyes looked perhaps a tiny bit more watchful than they previously had, but Jenny Calendar remained, on the surface at least, impassive. She was already mentally kicking herself for that reflexive show of life---but they had been away from a computer going on three days, and without the exhaustion of spellcasting to keep her drained and dazed, she was finding it harder and harder to keep up the act. And to keep up her composure…she hoped Lorne was all right. She hoped the kids were all right. She hoped she was ready for them…

“Fine,” snitted Lilah. “Find a doctor, get her checked. I need to stay here though---I’m expecting a delivery and I need to be here in case it…”

“Right,” scoffed Spike. “A delivery.”

“Well, opening a hellmouth’s a tricky thing, Spike. There are supplies involved…”

“Thought you already had your bloody supplies,” he complained.

“Well, most of them. But some of it has to be sourced locally, you know. When you open a hellmouth, you do need some things from…well, the actual hellmouth…look, I’m giving in, Spike. You win. Have fun, do you want, see you at dinnertime. Take Harmony, take the witch and go do whatever it is you think you have to. You are completely in charge of this section of the plan.”

He puffed up importantly. “In charge, am I?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, nodding seriously. “Completely. As long as she comes back alive and un-sampled-from, you can do whatever you want with her.”

With a slight inward cringe, Jenny steeled herself for the day ahead. She really needed to get on-line.

**

“I hope you’ve got money,” Giles remarked to Angel. They were standing in front of a bank of vending machines, which he was studying intently.

Angel regarded him dubiously. “You didn’t bring money?”

“Well, why should I? I brought the supplies, and Buffy brought the money. And I believe she still has it with her. Ah, there we go.” He stopped before the right-most concession. “Oatmeal cookies,” he pronounced, poking the glass display to show Angel. “This is what we want. I was starting to worry that they only had those horrid creamy fudge things.”

Angel frowned. “What, Oreos? Cordelia loves Oreos.”

“Oh, yes,” muttered Giles. “Loves them, does she? You don’t think that would be a little much, in her present condition? I daresay we have enough to handle without getting her sick on top of it, Angel. Oatmeal would be a far, far better choice.”

Angel clamped his mouth shut and held out a grubby stash of quarters.

“Ah. Thank you. There we go.” He made his selections, then drifted over to the bank of chairs.

“That’s quite a state she’s in, isn’t it?” Giles remarked casually.

Angel shrugged.

The watcher’s eyes went suddenly flinty. “You need to take better care of her.”

A stunned Angel stared back at him. “But this isn’t…Giles, I didn’t…”

“Oh, I know that,” said Giles. “Or at least, a part of me does. Lord knows these things happen, and Cordelia’s impulse control was hardly her most sterling character trait even before you came along.”

He opened a package of cookies and broke it into pieces. “But then…” He shrugged, tossing a cookie piece into his mouth and crunching noisily. “A part of me also knows that YOU had her last, and she certainly wasn’t in this state when I left her.”

Angel backed away warily. “Giles…”

“Oh, we’ll take care of her,” Giles was saying. “Don’t you worry about that. But Angel…I shan’t wish to find like this again”

Angel slowly nodded.

“Well, then. Onto business?”

Two slender legs slung themselves over the embankment and plopped themselves down on Giles’ lap.

“Great,” said Buffy, settling in comfortably. “I was worried we’d missed that part.”

**

Charles Gunn, still pumped from his pre-dinner patrol, bounced innocently into Caritas.

“Yo, Lorne,” he called. “Defender of the universe, here! What can you get me?”

Lorne popped up from behind the bar, smiling largely. Too largely. “Charles, my friend, my buddy…how about a drink, old buddy, old pal? No charge!”

“There’s never a charge,” said Gunn suspiciously. “Seeing as how I have a tab…”

“Yes, yes,” agreed Lorne. “But this is a special occasion, Gunn. A special night.”

Gunn raised a wary eye. “For you or for me?”

Lorne’s red eyes glowed suddenly with ominous threat. “It’s an interesting situation you find yourself in, Charles. YOU have the sole power to either maintain my glorious mood, or to ruin it. You don’t want to ruin my fabulous mood, do you Charles?”

Gunn blinked dazedly. “Um, no. Guess not. Um, Lorne…”

“Katie’s here,” the demon explained. “And she wants to take me out for dinner. She’s wearing a dress, Gunn. A DRESS.”

“Uh, okay….”

“Only thing is…” Lorne gestured expansively around him. “Fella’s gotta earn a living, you know? Can’t shut down the place just cause he’s in love, can he?”

“Um…no?”

“No!” pronounced Lorne. “So here I am, going about my business, de-stingering the Jubailian entrails for the crudite tray, when Willow calls. She and Tara are staying with Dawn during the hellmouth thing, and she had front row seats to the Kate-absconding-from-Sunnydale show…and now I have my lady on her way over and me with this bar to run…you see my dilemma, don’t you, Charles?”

“I was patrolling,” said Gunn, shaking his head in dismayed---and growing---realization. “I just got thirsty…”

“And you, my friend, will not be the only one to find himself in such a bind. Which is why we have bars, isn’t it? And when you have a bar…you need a bartender.”

“But…you’re the bartender,” said Gunn hopefully.

“Not tonight, amigo. She washed her hair. She put a little ribbon in it.”

“So what you’re saying is you want me to stay here and sell drinks to people so you can go out?”

The door creaked open and a large blue demon with three heads peered anxiously in. “You guys open?”

Gunn sighed. “What can I get you?”

**

Cordelia slumped unhappily against the sweaty plastic chair, face newly washed, hair pulled back in some attempt at comfort, and features pinched in exquisite misery.

“There, now,” said Giles softly. “You’re all right, then.”

She took a tiny nibble of oatmeal cookie. “Umm hmm.”

“It’s nothing profound, I’m afraid,” said Giles, giving her a resigned smile as he settled back into his seat. “It’s overload, plain and simple. You haven’t been in a crowd this large since your accident, have you?”

She shook her head mutely.

“Just school,” clarified Angel.

Giles nodded. “I expected as much. Now, double the number of people, put them in a building half the size of the LACU campus, and stir them all into irritable tempers with flight delays, poor air quality and blindingly grating fluorescent lighting…”

Buffy frowned. “But what does any of that have to do with the price of tea in…wait, you’re telling us she can sense them?”

“Not in the sense I suspect you mean. But in a matter of speaking…well, ask Angel how HE knew that Cordelia was in a state. For someone with enhanced senses, it wouldn’t be hard to deduce…”

“Her breathing…” said Angel softly. “Her heartbeat…”

“For you, yes,” said Giles. “But Cordelia has shown herself to be especially sensitive to scent, hasn’t she? And…well, under pressure, people sweat, don’t they? They fidget and they pace and they sweat, and she can smell it on them. All of these frantic, over-heated travelers…it must feel like walking through a field of apples, and having them all go suddenly rotten on you.”

Buffy grimaced. “No wonder she’s a little grumpy. And ewwwww.”

“Indeed. I imagine even a supremely centered person would find it difficult to filter the stimulus from a crowd this size, never mind someone as raw and untested as Cordelia…”

Cordelia slumped unhappily and rested her head on Angel’s shoulder. “And funnily enough, having an explanation isn’t making it any easier…” she whined.

“Hush now,” he said gently. “We’ll try to help you, all right? Buffy, my bag…”

Buffy hefted his bag onto the chair beside them. “Geez, Giles, it feels like you have bricks in here,” she teased.

He withdrew two small, dense boxes from the front pocket, and Buffy groaned. “And since you do, that would explain it…”

He pressed the sides of the boxes and popped the lid to reveal a mass of crystals. They were in pieces of various sizes, some loose, and others bound pendant-like to necklaces, or fastened to strips of leather in crude, makeshift armbands.

“Amplifying crystals,” he explained. “They’ll have no effect on Angel, I’m afraid---it’s the same principle as a mirror. They reflect the aura of the wearer.”

Buffy frowned. “Huh?”

“Amplifies our mood,” clarified Giles. “We simply keep our minds on soothing, happy thoughts, and the crystals will boost our auras enough to hopefully create a barrier---a sort of karmic white noise, if you will, to drown out the static.”

Buffy picked up a crystal and hefted it casually in her hand. “Happy thoughts, huh? Like sunshine and puppy dogs?”

“Well, it’s not entirely that simple. But yes, something like that.”

They were interrupted as the loudspeaker blared to life and announced that flight 463 to Toronto was finally boarding. The relief in the waiting lounge was palpable, and it fortified Cordelia enough that she managed to stagger to her feet unassisted, and follow the others onto the jetway.

**

Gunn rested his chin on the bar, straining to keep his eyes open as the three-headed blue demon chattered away.

“..and that’s when Vern explained it to me,” he was saying.

Gunn raised half a finger and pointed to the right-most head. “That’s Vern?”

The left-most head, already identified as Harvey, nodded. “Uh huh. Nearly killed him, doing it. He’s always liked Esmeralda, but he and I go back WAY further…”

Gunn eyed the scaly blue torso that joined the heads together. “Obviously.”

“…and event though he KNEW it would break my heart, he felt that I deserved to know the truth.” The demon paused for weighty emphasis. “She was cheating on me! With my own brother Marv!”

Gunn cocked an eye at the middle head. “That’s Marv?”

The Marv-head nodded sheepishly, then looked away. Gunn directed his attention back to the Harvey-head.

“And you had no idea,” he clarified.

“Why would I? To think that all of this time…they had been sneaking around! Having clandestine meetings!”

Gunn tried to puzzle out the logistics of that. “And while that was going on, you were…”

Harvey shrugged. “Sleeping?”

Or possibly passed out in drunken stupor, theorized Gunn. The dude was packing it away. He regarded the Vern and Marv heads suspiciously. “You guys want some food maybe?”

The Marv-head, still shamed, was avoiding his gaze. The Vern-head, clearly not the brightest of the bunch, snooping skills notwithstanding, looked bored and downright sleepy.

“That Esmeralda…cheated on me with my own brother!” fumed Harvey. “Do you believe that? I wish I could make her pay. I wish…I wish her lying, cheating, oral-pleasure-giving hands would just rot off in a smelly rot of…rot!” He paused his rant and looked at Gunn expectantly.

“You know,” said Gunn. “I’m not actually a vengeance demon, per se. Although I have seen their work…”

Harvey frowned in disappointment. “Oh. Well, can I have more of this purple stuff, at least?

**

The flight was crowded to capacity, and amidst the crush of people, Giles attempted to stake out their territory. They had two seats in each of two rows, one immediately behind the other.

“You, there,” he said to Buffy, nodding at the farther row. And to Angel, he added “And you.”

Angel looked plaintively at Cordelia. “But Giles…”

“No arguments, Angel, you aren’t the one with the amplifying crystal, and of Buffy or I, I am the most practiced at the form of mental control it takes to keep it working. I should be closest to her.”

Angel looked at Cordelia again. “But I…Giles, I want to sit with her.”

Giles took his glasses off and leveled his gaze at Angel with as much severity as he could muster. “You sit with Buffy.”

“Giles, I…”

“Really, Angel,” Giles sighed. “You are nearly three centuries old. Surely, by this time, you’ve mastered sufficient self-control that you can be apart from her for a mere few hours…”

Cordelia smiled limply from her seat. “I’m fine, Angel. Really.” Then she arched in her seat with a blinding shriek of pain. “Oh god, Angel…”

They were instantly surrounded by people, and amidst the melee, a flight attendant pushed herself upon them, barking ‘what’s going on?’

Giles, nearest to Cordelia, had to literally dive through the crush and between the legs of a well-dressed executive to reach her.

“Nothing,” he muttered, fixing his glasses. “She’s fine.” He braced Cordelia’s body with his own to minimize the writhing, and block the flight attendant’s view.

“She doesn’t look fine,” said the flight attendant. She poked her head down the aisle. “Hey! Hey, anyone! We got a doctor here?”

Cordelia, still in the throes of the vision, heard just enough to shake her head mutely with wide, panicked eyes.

“She’s fine,” Giles repeated. “Just a little dehydrated, that’s all.” He smiled winsomely.

The flight attendant watched dubiously as Cordelia choked and gasped beside him. “Dehydration. Really.”

“She’s hypoglycemic,” Giles suggested. “Hits her harder than it would you or I. Some water, some protein, get her electrolytes back up there…” He rummaged in his bag, then pulled out a cheese string, which he waved at them triumphantly. “There, see?”

The flight attendant squinted at the wan, sweaty face and already slowing breathing. “You sure? It’s a long flight, mister. We don’t want any problems…”

“We don’t either,” said Giles sincerely. “Really, just give her space…”

The flight attendant backed away, still watching cautiously, and Giles waited until she was out of earshot, then hissed “What did you see?”

Cordelia, still a little thrown, pointed weakly at a boarding passenger, a large, scruffy man in a motorcycle jacket. “Trip him,” she croaked.

Angel casually stuck his foot in the aisle, and moments later, the man went tumbling. A long, narrow and blatantly illegal knife tumbled out of his jacket pocket as he flipped to the floor. The flight attendant, still hovering nearby suspiciously was on hand to subdue him.

Cordelia collapsed weakly and curled up in her window seat. “I need to go to sleep now,” she said in a tiny voice.

And she did.

**

Lilah strolled out of the steamy hotel bathroom, robe-clad, toweling off her dark, thick hair, and nearly tripping over the detritus of a recent blood bank theft. Spike and Harmony, near-drunk from their feed, lolled on the floor, slurping up the last of it.

Lilah wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Well, this is quite a scene.”

Spike grinned. “You know what they say about those Canadians, don’t you, pet? Paris, the city of lights. New York, the city that never sleeps. And Toronto, working towards a smoke-free environment. Sodding nation’s so damn nice and polite their blood tastes practically virginal.”

“Well, that’s all you’re getting from ME,” Lilah declared. “I warned you to ration this haul. You’re on your own, Spike.”

Spike shrugged. “I’ll manage.”

“No you won’t,” taunted Harmony. “You have the chip, remember?”

“So? This piddly dump’s a college town, Harm. Punk kids…shoddy housing…rats aplenty. I’ll manage.”

She nodded to the remains of their feast. “Maybe so. But it won’t be like THIS, will it? Well, not for you, anyway. Some of us can hunt on virginal college students any time we want to.”

“Well, this IS the hellmouth,” he said. “Maybe the rats will be magic rats. Those are always fun.”

Harmony patted his arm with a condescending smile. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

Lilah collapsed on the nearest double bed with an impatient sigh. “Can we PLEASE go to bed now? We have a big day tomorrow---you have your thing with the thing, and I will be getting the last of my supplies together…”

Spike sighed and rose to his feet, surveying the bloody mess of plastic. “’Spose we should tidy up a little…”

“Are you a moron?” snitted Harmony. “Why should we? This dump has maid service. “We’re PAYING for maid service.”

Spike shrugged. “Works for me.” He peeled off his shirt and made for Lilah’s bed. Harmony cast her eye to the other bed, where Jenny already lay unconscious. “Why do I have to sleep with HER again?” Harmony complained.

“Well, you don’t want to sleep with Lilah, do you?”

“I wouldn’t be ‘sleeping’ with her any more than you will. It’s just sharing a bed, Spike. And I don’t like the witch. She’s creepy. And she’s gone all spacey again. What’s up with that?”

“Beats me. But Lilah has shower-hair, Harm. She’ll get the sheets all soggy.”

Harmony considered this for a moment, then hopped into bed with Jenny.

**

Lorne strolled into Caritas well past closing time, a cheery spring to his step and a noticeable smear of lipstick smudged against his green and scaly cheek.

“Gunn?” he called.

He strolled behind the counter and booted up his computer to check for messages. “Gunn? Buddy?”

The bar was spotless, and Gunn had cleaned the place as well as Lorne himself---tables wiped down shiny, chairs stacked atop them---all but the one he was sleeping in, feet propped up on a barstool, stake clutched in his sleeping hand, and his leather jacket tossed over his lap like a blanket.

Lorne smiled and gently shook his friend awake. “Amigo? You okay there?”

‘You’ve got mail!’ blared the computer loudly. Gunn jumped to his feet. “Huh? What? Who’s here?”

“Just me,” said Lorne softly. “Sit back down, why dontcha, and give yourself a minute…”

Gunn obediently lowered himself back into the chair. “Uh, hi. How’d it go.”

“Fab. I’ve never seen Kate like this---she’s had an epiphany, and she’s…she’s wild, amigo. Wild.”

“Huh.”

“She was just so…open, so…so full of energy…”

Gunn smirked. “Had sex, didja?”

“And how. Turns out that Pylean genitalia is…textured…in a way that human penises are not. And the pressure points just happen to line up exactly with the erogenous zones of the human female…”

“Whoa!” said Gunn. “TMI, Lorne. TMI.”

“Sorry, bro. So, how’d you do here?”

Gunn shrugged. “Quiet night, I guess. A few stragglers here and there, and one guy who stayed all night and didn’t stop yapping the entire time---or possibly three guys, depending on how you look at it…”

“HMV!” squealed Lorne. “I love those guys! Three-headed blue guy who came in just as I was leaving, right?”

Gunn nodded. “Uh huh. Man oh man, can that guy pack it away. By the third drink or so, I started watering ‘em down a little.”

“And a good thing you did,” said Lorne. “Since their species has no taste receptors anyway. Alcohol’s a total waste on them.”

Gunn frowned. “Really?”

“Yup. They’re just here for the pretty colours, my man. Lemme guess---he had the purple stuff, didn’t he?”

“Nearly two bottles.”

Lorne nodded. “He’s a regular. You’ll get to know them after awhile. You did good, my friend. Really, really good, actually---HMV on your first night? That’s skill! You wouldn’t be interested in doing some moonlighting, by any chance, would you?”

Gunn shrugged. “Why not? Crime does pay, but not a whole lot these days. I could use the cash.”

Lorne grinned and shook his hand. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” he beamed.

He showed Gunn out, then settled at the bar to read his email. Jenny had found herself an Internet Café just down the street from her hotel, it looked like. Far enough away to make the spellcasting even more debilitating than it used to be. Poor thing was tired, but more importantly---she was scared.

**

They were nearly over Lake Ontario when Cordelia woke up again.

“Morning,” said Giles softly. He smiled gently and gently snapped shut his briefcase.

“Is it morning already?” she said.

“Just barely. We’ll land in a few minutes…”

She nodded, then unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed to her knees, peering over the seatback at Angel and Buffy.

“That’s so cute,” she said. “Giles, look…”

Against the black of the cabin wall, Angel looked massive, especially in sleep---his back an unmoving anchor, his legs splayed out into Buffy’s personal space, and arms wrapped easily around the tiny blond slayer, who was fast asleep in his embrace…

He returned her smile, then grew serious. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Giles. Don’t worry about me.”

“Cordelia…”

“No, really,” she said, glancing pointedly at his amplifying crystal. “Don’t worry.”

He blushed. “Sorry. I wasn’t…but truly---how ARE you feeling?”

She settled back into her chair. “A little headachey. A little nauseous. A little hungry.” She shrugged. “I’ll live.”

“I’m sure. Cordelia…”

“I’ll be ready,” she insisted. “Giles, I’m fine, really.”

“If you did need to…look, there’s nothing wrong with…”

“I know. Happy thoughts, Giles.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re right. It’s healthier for all of us, really…”

She winced suddenly and swatted him on the arm. “Not THOSE kind of happy thoughts, though. Ewwww.”

He blushed again, then ruefully smiled. “Well, your filtering skills are improving, at any rate. That’s a good sign, I suppose.”

“See? Fine. Just like I told you. Demoned and visioned and ready for action. So how does this work, exactly? They gonna meet us when we land?”

“Not entirely. Seems they split the trip up for us in deference to Angel, to assure as only night-time travel. We’ve a ways to go yet. We land in Toronto and have the day to spend as we see fit, so long as we get ourselves to Union Station by 7 to claim our tickets.”

“Tickets to where?”

“They haven’t said. Typical council nonsense---saving up their information for a pompous lecture when we get there, I suppose…”

“Not that we’re bitter,” she observed with a wry smile. “Happy thoughts, Giles. Sunshine and puppy dogs.”

“Right,” he said. “Sunshine and puppy dogs.” He waited for her eye to wander, then immediately removed the amplifying crystal and stowed it in his carry-on. They had a battle ahead of them, and nearly everyone he loved was diving headfirst into it. He’d brood if he bloody well wanted to.

**

Lilah Morgan clambered awake to the shrill pierce of a ringing phone. She fumbled for the receiver. “Hello?”

“Morning,” chirped the desk clerk. “Rabbit Courier Company’s here. Should I send them up?”

She hopped out of bed, tossing her pillows at her sleeping lackeys to rouse them. “Yes,” she said, instantly awake. “Thank you.”

Spike and Harmony were slowly coming too. “Visitors?” drawled Spike sleepily.

“Better,” said Lilah. “I think my supplies are here.”

That got him out of bed instantly. “This I’ve got to see.”

There was a timid knock at the door, and Spike propped the latch open. Clipboard-armed and in a standard dishwater-gray courier uniform, one almost didn’t notice that their messenger was a Chaos demon.

Lilah stared at him, eyes widening in sudden recognition. “Kevin?”

The demon pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his dripping antlers. He smiled sheepishly. There were braces on his teeth.

“Kevin?” Lilah repeated. “Oh my god…”

Spike smirked. “Your name is Kevin?”

The demon shrugged. “So? Hey, Lilah. Long time, no see.”

“And you KNOW each other?” Spike marveled.

“College. Freshman year. There was a thing. Oh my god, Kevin, you look FABulous! Have you been working out?”

Kevin flexed a tiny bicep that would be pathetic even by human standards. “A little,” he said with a shy grin.

“Kill me now,” muttered Spike under his breath.

“So this is where you wound up,” Lilah mused. “Who would have thought…you do know there’s a hellmouth, right?”

Kevin’s lazy eye popped to alertness. “Really? Huh.”

“So I’m guessing you’re the only one who FINISHED college,” Spike snarked to Lilah.

“I thought you joined the Peace Corps,” Lilah was telling Kevin.

Kevin shrugged. “Pay sucked.”

“Sure,” teased Spike. “And working for a low-rent courier in a dippy little college town pays SO much better…”

Kevin glared at Spike, then turned to Lilah. “Who is this yutz? But oh, hey, speaking of…” He hauled a large carton in from the hallway and handed her the clipboard. Lilah signed it absently.

“We MUST get caught up,” she was gushing. “There’s this thing we’re doing…you want in?”

“WHAT?” squeaked Spike. “I bust my ass for you for WEEKS with barely a thanks, and Drippy-McAntler shows up all minimum wage and gets invited in just like that?”

“Never hurts to have some muscle, Spike,” said Lilah. Kevin smiled weakly. His antlers looked heavy enough to nearly topple him over.

**

Cordelia caught up with them just inside Museum station, hands jammed with ice cream cones.

“Thanks for letting me stop,” she said, collapsing against a wall to catch her breath. “The concierge at the hotel said no visit to Toronto would be complete without a visit to Greg’s for ice cream…”

Buffy shrugged. “We’re cool in here. We have a day pass. We can get on and off the subway as many times as we want to.”

Angel nodded enthusiastically. “This is a GREAT city. The whole thing’s, like, underground…”

Buffy smiled. “So what’d you get us?”

“Roasted marshmallow,” said Cordelia. “Greg’s specialty. With chocolate syrup for you and me, and without it for the guys.” She passed out the ice cream “Where to now?”

“Well, since we’re already AT Museum station,” said Giles hopefully. “It would stand to reason that the museum must be nearby…”

The girls both groaned. “Giles, no,” whined Buffy.

“I’ll go,” said Angel.

“But it’s the Royal Ontario Museum,” Giles complained. “I haven’t been to that one. I hear they have a stunning collection of Egyptian artifacts…”

“Mummies?” said Buffy. “I don’t think so.” She shook her head firmly. “We are so not doing that.”

“But their collection of first dynasty gems is apparently exqui…”

“No,” said Buffy again.

“I don’t mind,” piped up Angel. “I’ll go.”

But they were beyond hearing him now. Giles’ face was as close to a pout as it ever got, and his voice was dangerously whiny. “I went up and down this bloody subway all day for you girls,” he was ranting. “I did not go into any libraries to look up arcane regional mythologies that might help us in the impending battle. I did not hole up in our hotel room and pore over musty old books to supplement my cache of protection spells. I did not chain myself literally OR figuratively to Cordelia’s laptop computer so I could instant message with Wesley and recruit him to fill in the numerous missing pieces we have yet to unravel. Instead, I went to several large malls because you wanted shoes. I went to several designer outlets because Cordelia wanted a bag. I stood in line at the cashiers while you paid for a novelty t-shirt, then again at another store while Cordelia bought a small stuffed animal. And I did all of this without complaining, Buffy. Now, it is nearly four, we have a train to catch in less than three hours, and I want to go to a museum. Do you have a problem with that?”

Buffy fidgeted and stared at the wall, stalling.

“You know,” said Angel helpfully. “It’s very important to take an interest in your partner’s hobbies and activities.”

She glared at him, then sighed. “All right. But NO mummies, Giles. ‘Kay?”

He nodded. “Deal.”

**

Wesley walked into the Hyperion at noonish to check the messages, and did a double-take when he saw the front desk. He was nearly getting used to the feeling of walking into his office and feeling like he had stumbled in on the tail-end of one of those gleefully unpredictable and incomprehensibly non-subtitled Japanese anime movies, but this…

He took a deep breath and located Gunn amidst the wreckage. “Morning,” he said.

“Morning, Wes.”

“Why is our front desk covered in muffin trays?”

Gunn shrugged off his oven mitts. “It’s taken me a few tries to get it right,” he explained. “I’ve been baking.”

“Um hm. Why?”

“Well, I was at Caritas last night,” Gunn explained. “And…hey, Wes, I have a job now! I am gainfully employed.”

“You already had a job. You work for me.”

“Uh, right,” said Gunn. “And fun as that might be, the hours are unpredictable and the pay almost as much. So I was at Caritas and there was this thing with three heads that was there cause Lorne was doing Kate, and then there were these purple drinks, and then Lorne was telling me that I am just what that place needs.”

Wesley gave himself a moment to process this narrative. “Well,” he said.

“So anyway, I was thinking this morning that maybe now that I am board, that place might have a chance to diversify a little. I mean, purple drinks are one thing, but the food? SO greasy spoon, which is fine and all, but obesity is a growing problem in America, you know? The menu at Caritas may be fried and tasty, but it’s hardly very socially responsible.”

“The clientele are demons,” said Wesley. “I hardly think that social responsibility is a dominating factor.”

“Well, maybe it should be,” said Gunn. “Maybe this is my thing, you know? Those PTB paying attention to ME for once and giving ME a chance to make a difference!”

Wesley frowned. “You do make a difference---working for me. Helping your OWN kind.”

“And I still will. This Caritas gig is just a sideline, Wes.”

Wesley frowned again. “Why is our front desk covered in muffin trays?”

Gunn sighed in frustration. “They just don’t look right, Wes. I mean, they TASTE okay, but they just look so…so pale and dull. Things ain’t right if they don’t have some colour, you know?”

Wesley sighed. “Does Lorne know you’re doing this?”

“I’m a new employee, Wes. Got to take some initiative if I want to get noticed.”

Wesley nodded. This was the first thing Gunn had said that made even the remotest bit of logical sense, and he rewarded his friend with a pat on the arm and a wise smile.

Maple syrup,” he told him, stepping carefully over the five-pound bag of flour in the entryway and heading into the office.

“Huh?”

“Maple syrup,” he repeated. “Use brown sugar, not white, and replace the vanilla extract with maple syrup.”

He turned on the computer to check for any messages from Cordelia or Giles, leaving a dumb-founded Gunn to scramble after him with an incredulous “How the HELL do you know that?”

**

The train ride was brief and uneventful.

“After all that,” complained Buffy. “They build it up to this whole big thing, then we’re two hours into the train ride and that’s it?”

“Apparently, that’s this town’s selling point,” said Cordelia, reading off a tourist pamphlet she had picked up just beside the taxi stand where they now waited. “Kingston, Ontario, the gateway to the Thousand Islands, is centrally located halfway between Toronto and Montreal.”

“THAT’S their claim to fame? Geography?”

Cordelia consulted the brochure again. “Well, that and prisons. They have almost as many of those as they do universities.”

“And…large quantities of limestone,” observed Giles, reading over her shoulder.

“Oooh, and a fort,” said Cordelia, pointing to one of the pictures.

“Plus the hellmouth,” offered Angel. He frowned. “Although I guess they probably don’t publicize that too much.”

Giles gave a weak smile. “Well, then. Suppose we find a taxi, hmmm?”

They lugged their bags into the nearest car, and Giles hastily conferred with the driver about the instructions they had found with their tickets. They reached the downtown core in less than twenty minutes, and when the taxi stopped, a large imposing building loomed in front of them.

Angel took in the officious structure and frowned. “That can’t be good.”

“It figures,” said Cordelia with a groan. “It would be another library, wouldn’t it?”

**

Gunn ambled into Caritas whistling a jaunty tune.

“Lorne? Charles Gunn, reporting for duty, as ordered.”

Lorne peeked out from behind the counter. “Evening, employerino. Just in time.”

Gunn nodded. “I try and be prompt. But I do have patrol responsibilities, you know?”

“Understood, good buddy, understood. I would certainly never want something so pedestrian as the purple love of Harvey, Marv and Vern to compromise the safety of the untold innocents.”

Gunn nodded again. “My man! I knew we was cool.”

“Even so…there IS more to this job than schmoozing with the lounge lizards, you know. I took care of the Jubalian entrails for you THIS time, but you really are going to have to take some initiative, Charles. I am only one man; I can only do so much.”

Gunn gulped. “Uh huh. Sooooo….you into muffins?”

**

Queen’s University may be one of Canada’s oldest universities, but the Stauffer Library is among its newest buildings. Even at this almost late hour, the towering, spacious facility was crowded with students.

“Special Collections,” said Giles, reading off his directions. “Apparently, they’re to meet us at…ah, this way…”

A helpfully posted sign directed them downward---away from the students, away from the shiny email terminals that crowded the rotunda, and down into the basement.

“Always a good sign,” chirped Buffy. “Going AWAY from all the people…”

“This is the hellmouth,” said Giles impatiently. “Not the best place to be looking for good signs, Buffy.”

“Oooh, grumpy. What’s up with that?”

“Don’t tease me.”

“Giles…”

“Don’t. Tease. Me.”

Cordelia frowned, then dumped her bag at Angel’s feet, and, with a resigned sigh, pulled Giles aside.

“All right,” she prompted, keeping her voice low. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Nice try. I don’t need an amplifying crystal to read you anymore, Rupert Giles. You’re wigging out.”

“I’m not sure that’s the term I would use.”

“So, what, then? We’ve done battles before. We’ve done hellmouths before. But this one has you all wound up.”

“And?”

“And there is a time and a place for wigging. On the stairwell of a library in a strange town far from home, in the middle of the night with dozens of clueless innocents milling around us would not be that time.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“Nice try. Giles, come on, you can talk to me. Is it the watchers?”

“Cordelia…”

“Cause I don’t like ‘em much either, if that’s any consolation. Trying to do experiments on innocent people just because they happen to be…”

“Cordelia, really…”

Her eyes widened. “Miss Calendar! We still haven’t seen her, and god, you must be…”

“Stop.”

She took an obliging step away from him, brow furrowing curiously. “It isn’t just that, is it? It’s all of it. One thing, you could handle---one battle, one ghost, one problem---but all of it together---the hellmouth, the council and Miss Calendar too…”

His fingers clenched into fists at his side. “I’m fine,” he said stiffly.

“Sure you are. And using that tone of voice with me is really gonna convince me. Look, can I talk to Buffy about this?”

“Cordelia, really…”

“Look, I’m trying, okay? I’m letting you snit at me and I’m not saying anything cause I think you’re kind of at your breaking point here. And I won’t make you talk if you don’t think you can right now, but Giles, if you don’t tell her what’s going through your head, she’ll get upset, and she’ll get pushy, and she’ll get mad and she won’t back away like I’m doing right now, and then we’ll just have one more problem to deal with. Now, the fact that I am even asking you before I talk to her should tell you something. This is not an ambush. This is not an intervention. This is just me being your friend and her being your lover and both of us wanting to do this right…”

He nodded briefly, then walked away, his face unreadable. He did not say a word until he had reached the Special Collections information desk in the library’s basement, and found it utterly deserted. He closed his eyes, muttered a brief “Bloody hell…” and rang the small bell that rested helpfully on the counter. A familiar face popped up before them.

“Ah. You’re here. Wonderful, wonderful…let’s get started, then. May I be the first to say it?” Fiona Wyndam-Pryce smiled proudly and opened her arms in greeting. “Welcome to the hellmouth.”

They stared at her dumbly.

“You?” whined Cordelia. “YOU’RE the council contact?”

Fiona shrugged. “Well, who did you think it would be?”

“But Wesley said…he told us you’d been placed far away.”

“It took you two days to get here.”

“In a less prestigious outpost.”

“Well, until about a week ago, this WAS. They didn’t know about the hellmouth,” she admitted.

Giles cracked a tiny smile. “Really?”

“So how’d YOU find it?” asked Cordelia.

“By taking Wesley’s suggestion and doing a little bit of research. Obviously, there HAS been paranormal activity---it wouldn’t be an area of interest to the council, otherwise. But there are so many such areas, and this is such a small town---oh sure, it IS the largest urban centre between Toronto and Montreal, but only if you count the outlying townships and transient student population…”

“The hellmouth?” prompted Giles.

“Right. I owe that to Wesley, really. We’ve been talking…rather nice, after all of these years, but anyway, he was telling about his early days as an active watcher. Mid-sized town, about two hours from the region’s largest urban centre. Well-regarded, if somewhat smaller, university. And a military presence to boot. Sound familiar?”

“That’s Sunnydale,” said Buffy.

“That’s Kingston,” said Fiona with a smirk. “Two hours from Toronto by train. Queen’s University, which is, depending on your source, the number one or the number two school in the country. They have a military base AND a military college---quite a variety for a town this size, no?

“But that’s…”

“And it’s just SWIMMING in mythology,” said Fiona much too cheerfully. “Their sports teams are called the Golden Gaels, Gael as in Gaelic, and their unofficial motto is ‘Cha Gheill.’” She beamed at Angel. “Care to translate?”

“No surrender,” he said. “Cha Gheill. It means no surrender.”

“And of course, there were Indians,” continued Fiona cheerfully. “Should we talk about those?”

Giles took off his glasses and rubbed between his eyes. “Let’s don’t.”

“So I started taking some readings,” said Fiona. “That imbecile Zabuto always teased me about my crystals---too new-fangled for his tastes, I suppose, but in my mind there’s no more reliable a way…and presto. Hellmouth.”

Buffy looked nervously down at her feet. “Here?”

“Of course not here. Who would be stupid enough to build a library on top of a hellmouth?”

The scoobies traded bemused looks. “So…where?” said Cordelia.

“Under the pub, of course,” said Fiona. “This campus has three of them, but two of them are in the same building. If that doesn’t just SCREAM suspicious…”

“Should we go see it?” said Buffy.

“Oh, I’m keeping on eye on things, but it isn’t doing anything yet. There’s a full moon in two days. I think they’ll make their move then.”

“So do we have a plan yet?”

Fiona nodded. “I’m still trying to work on getting the pub---Alfie’s, it’s called---closed down for the night. It’s a hard sell, I admit---it’s fairly popular. It’s in the basement of the JDUC---that’s the student centre here, you know, food courts, meeting rooms, and, among many, many other things, a residence for graduate students. Those people have filed more than a few noise complaints this year---it’s been a small scandal. I’m trying to leverage that a little, but I’m just a librarian…”

“We’ll help,” said Buffy.

“Well, of course you’ll help. I wouldn’t have sent for you, otherwise. I’ll have Giles for research, I think, and you in case I need a ‘student.’ Cordelia, I’d like you and Angel to do some shopping, if you don’t mind---there are still some volumes I’m missing, and this town has quite the profusion of used book stores…”

They nodded their assent, and Fiona smiled, genuinely, this time. “You must be tired. I’ve found some rooms for you in that graduate residence I mentioned---it’s just across the street. Just go through the upper celilidh to the staircase…”

“The who?”

Angel smiled. “More Gaelic. They do like their history, don’t they? It means meeting place.”

“If you can call a hallway that. Go in the side entrance past the food court, and that large open space is the lower ceilidh. Just follow the stairs. I have your keys here…”

“I should do a patrol, I guess,” said Buffy. “Well we’re here…I mean, this IS a hellmouth, after all…”

“I’ll come,” said Cordelia. “It’s been awhile since I’ve done a real patrol…”

“Cordy, are you…”

“I’ll come,” she repeated. Her tone was significant; no one questioned her further.

“I’ll go the other way,” said Angel. “Do a quick pass before heading back here…”

They headed outside, and nobody even thought to ask Giles if he had plans. He watched the others head off in three different directions, then waited until they were out of sight and took the fourth.

**
It was almost 9, and Caritas was hopping. Wesley, grimacing distastefully as he worked his way through the crowd, stepped delicately up to the bar to search for Gunn.

He found him aproned and active, tossing drinks with the speed of a god, and boredly tuning out a large three-headed demon who was prattling like an idiot about a woman called Esmeralda.

He tapped his knuckles on the counter. "Hello?" he called.

Gunn broke off the drink-pouring and greeted him with a relieved grin. "Wes! My man, thank god you are here. Yo! Ramone!" He flagged down the nearest bartender. "I got a business meeting. Get my buddy HMV some more purple stuff and watch the bar a few minutes, will ya?"

They retreated into Lorne's small office. "Wes, thank god!" Gunn repeated.

Wesley shrugged and calmly took a seat. "You called, I came. No less than I would do for any friend, really. What can I do for you?"

"I so need your help," Gunn whined. "Remember that muffin thing?"

"Yes..."

"Well, I told Lorne about it," he said. "And he really likes the idea of expanding our repertoire. But he thought the apple-cinnamon might be a little too....too FRUITY for our clientele, you know? He told me if I beefed it up some---and no, I don't mean literal beef---it might go over better."

"And this involves me because..."

"Do I have to spell it out for you? I know jack about regular baking, and jack-all about the demon kind. You gotta help me, Wes. I don't know how you know the things you know..."

"It isn't hard, really. My Nanna always said that all you need is a recipe with clear instructions, and anyone can produce a moist and fluffy..."

"Whoa," said Gunn. "I don't know what a Nanna is, and I don't think I even want to know. But one thing I do know is that unless you help me come up with an alternate menu, I'm going to be de-stingering Jubalian entrails 'til the cows come home. And no, I don't mean literal cows. Look, bail a brother out, will you? If you were a scaly- blue-skinned purple-loving three-headed demon, what would YOU want with your crudite tray?"

Wesley thought for a moment. "All right," he finally said. "But I'll need a day or so to do some research..."

He headed back into the bar. "With my own brother Marv!" the blue-skinned demon was exclaiming, poking three stubby blue fingers into Ramone's arm for emphasis. Wesley shook his head. He was far too good for this crowd.

**

They passed through nearly three Byzantine campus blocks of buildings named after people before Buffy finally plopped herself down on a park bench and rested her stake in her lap.

"All right," she sighed. "Let's get it over with."

Cordelia sat down beside her and smiled sweetly. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Oh no you don't. Don't play innocent with me, missy, you've been biding your time all night trying to get me alone for a heart-to-heart, haven't you? So spill. Are you the one in trouble, or am I?"

"This isn't that kind of conversation."

Buffy nodded. "Giles..." She kicked a pebble unhappily. "Figures he'd talk to YOU about it first."

"He didn't talk to me."

Buffy flexed her fingers back and forth in near-fists. "Oh," she managed.

"Oh? Buffy, trust me when I tell you that this really isn't something you need to get jealous over. You think this is some kind of contest? Spot the stress first? Please! The man was projecting like a drive-in movie! I saw the same thing you saw. I'm just brave enough to talk about it, unlike some people."

Buffy shrugged. "Okay. So?"

"So for totally selfish reasons , namely that I don't want to listen to either of you complaining to me when you handle this the way you usually do and make things worse, I'm going for option two and butting my nose in to give you a heads-up on this."

"A heads-up," repeated Buffy tonelessly. "You think THAT'S what I need? You think I really don't see what's going on here? He gets a little stressed sometimes. All he needs to do is..."

"What? Fight it out, like you do? Rant it out, like I do? You know that's not the way he handles things."

"It's worse," said Buffy. "What he does...it's worse."

"Which is exactly why you need to back off a little. You might not like the brood thing---god knows I sure don't when Angel does it. But Giles has stuff on his mind right now---the hellmouth and the watchers are bad enough, but there's the whole Miss Calendar angle too..."

"Oh, that one's okay," said Buffy. "We already talked about that."

"Right. Cause it's that easy..."

"Now, just a minute..." Buffy fumed.

"No, YOU just a minute. Giles is strong, he's smart and he's tough, but you know as well as I do that he's not the best emotional multitasker. One problem, and you never even see it on him. But two or three at once, and he starts showing cracks. Jamming in a chisel before he has a chance to smooth them over is not going to help things."

Buffy looked torn. "I know," she said weakly. "But Cordy, you weren't here the last time he did this. When he gets overwhelmed---like the kind of overwhelmed you're talking about---he completely shuts down. It's...dangerous."

"He can't help it."

"I know he can't. But that doesn't mean I'm going to stand by and let him be vamp-food just cause he wants to broodfully hide out in the dark and lick his wounds! If what you're saying is true, he's in pain right now. You really want me to just sit by and let it run its course?"

Cordelia shrugged. "I think what I want right now is kind of immaterial, don't you?"

Buffy untensed, exhaling slowly. "You're right. Damn you." She drummed her fingers on her knees. "So what happens now?"

**

He had been walking for less than twenty minutes when he hit the waterfront.

"Such a cliché," Giles muttered, taking in the brooding landscape with a disgusted sigh. "Inky water, craggy stones...like a bloody painting..."

He kicked a stone with his foot, then looked up sharply when he heard a soft voice behind him. "You shouldn't be here."

He turned his head and exhaled slowly. "Oh. You."

Fiona crouched down beside him. "I know, I know, probably only cranking up the trauma, aren't I? Bad, evil watcher and all that. But Mr. Giles, really, you shouldn't be here. Things hide in shadows, you know. Here especially."

"You know," he said archly. "I do actually live on a hellmouth. I know how these things work."

She arched her brow. "Seems like."

He tensed to his feet and met her gaze with a stony glare. "Are you quite done?"

"Oh, come on. You think you're the first man to ever have a girlfriend who talks too much? I know how this works. Or at least, I know how it works HERE. Man goes off to find himself a dank and gloomy hideaway to suit his mood. Man sits on the craggy rocks and gazes out into the water, lost in his past, or his love, or his demons. Vampire, demon or hellhound of nefarious evil sneaks up behind man and tears his bloody throat to pieces."

"Now, come on..."

"And I, for once, have no desire to piss the slayer off by letting the likes of you run off and get yourself eaten. Go," she said, shooing him forward with her hands. "Do your thing. I'll wait."

"Oh. Is that right?"

She fumbled in her backpack and emerged with a stake in one hand and a taser in the other.

"Yes, yes," she prompted. "I've got you. Now, go, do your thing already so I can walk you home and get this over with."

He gave her an odd glance, then walked away from her and perched himself on a high, broad stone. The water was oddly soothing, and it briefly crossed his mind that perhaps, at least, one problem---the council problem---was blessedly taken care of.

**

Cordelia flounced into her tiny room and plopped herself down on the bed.

"Hey," she greeted Angel.

He was sitting in the desk chair, book in hand and feet propped comfortably on the keyboard tray. "Hey. Patrol go okay?"

"Hope so. You?"

"Good enough. Now let's have sex," he said.

She blinked. "Wow. Um, way to preamble there, buddy. You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"That had all the subtlety of a cement truck, Angel. What's up with that?"

"Men are bad," he said. "They are emotionally immature and have difficulty articulating their feelings."

She frowned. "Have you been reading my self-help books again?"

"No one is so perfect that they can't learn from others, Cordelia."

"Okay..."

"The problem," he explained, "Is that men too often hide their feelings because they think that expressing need is a sign of weakness. So they play mind games, Cordelia: the mind games of repression, of denial...and that, as I am sure you'll agree, is NOT healthy. The reality is that we ALL would be happier if only men could just allow themselves to TELL women what it is they're really feeling, instead of fooling around about it."

"And what you are feeling right now is that you want to have sex with me?"

Angel beamed. "Yes. Cordelia, I am feeling lust, and I am not ashamed about it because it is perfectly natural."

"Don't be an idiot," she told him firmly. "I'll have sex with you, all right. But I want the flirting. I want the foreplay. I actually LIKE the pointless pretty stuff, and don't you forget it."

"See, there you go," he said happily. "Clearly expressing your needs and emotions. You picked up on this MUCH faster than I thought you would, Cordelia. Good for you!"

"Shut up," she said, peeling off her jacket and tossing it onto the bed. "And Angel---stay out of my self-help books, will you?"

**

Spike paced impatiently outside the bathroom, pausing intermittently to bang on the door.

“Hurry up, Harm,” he growled. “Some of us need to get in there…”

The door cracked open infinitesimally. “Well, excuse me for living,” Harmony drawled. “Or unliving, as the case may be. You’re the one who made me share a bed with the witch, Spike. And I don’t know what kind of experiments you’ve been running on her, but she smells funny. Like magic and sweat and stuff. Ewwww.” Harmony shuddered. “I just can’t get clean.”

“YOU can’t get clean?” he roared. “YOU can’t get clean?”

“You’re the one who made me share a bed with her,” Harmony repeated.

“A fact I am sorely regretting,” grumbled Spike. “Didn’t know Lilah’d ask HIM to stay.”

He pointed to the bed he had just vacated, where Lilah lay fast asleep in demon Kevin’s arms, his pointy antlers nudged vaguely sexually against Lilah’s breasts, the flow of drippy slime only moderately slowed by his sleeping state.

“I say again,” said Spike dryly. “YOU can’t get clean?”

He ran a finger through his hair. It came out sticky, and Harmony burst into giggles. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now? Like that scene in that movie with Cameron Diaz, where they use the spermy stuff like hairspray!”

“Shut up!”

“Well, you do. I can’t help it that you do. Seriously, Spike, why didn’t you just sleep on the floor or something? Are you THAT desperate to cop a feel?”

“Shut up! And lemme in, Harm. I need a shower.”

“Well, I don’t think so,” said Harmony. I haven’t even done my hair yet. She ran a silky finger through her long, high-maintenance tresses. “I don’t think so at all.”

She closed the door on him with a haughty pout, and not for the first time, he lamented the fact that since she was already a vampire, he couldn’t even shut her up by eating her.

**

The Book Shop was their third stop of the morning, and Cordelia was already tired of looking. Their first two destinations had been complete wastes of time: too many cheap paperbacks in the first and too many college psychology textbooks in the second. So when they stepped inside this third one, she didn’t even bother looking seriously. As she wandered off into the stacks, Angel accosted the elderly shop-keeper.

“Hi,” he said.

“Morning. Can I help you find something?”

“Maybe. We’re doing some research into local myths and legends---you know, folklore, ghost stories, paranormal occurrences, that sort of thing…”

“Ah. Well, you don’t need a book for that. There’s a tour you can take---Haunted Kingston, they call it. Very popular with the tourists…”

“We aren’t tourists.”

The shopkeeper gave him a funny look. “Paranormal occurrences, you say?”

“Um hm.”

“How paranormal?”

Angel tensed alertly.

“I only mean…look, what sources have you already consulted?”

“Special Collection,” said Angel. “At the university…”

The shopkeeper nodded, and reached behind the desk, pressing a hidden button. The desktop rolled back to reveal a hidden shelf stacked as high as possible with musty old volumes. Cordelia wandered over. “Jackpot…” she whispered.

“Have a look and see what you can use,” the shopkeeper said. “Now, you understand, I am sure, that most of these books are priceless and irreplaceable, but word on the net is something big is brewing here. I do my part, you understand?”

“Word on the net…” muttered Cordelia, frowning. “Are you…you’re a…”

He smiled. “I believe the word you are looking for is ‘technopagan.’ Nothing to be alarmed about, Miss.”

“Oh, believe me,” said Cordelia. “You want to alarm me, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

He gave them an odd frown. “Now, you wouldn’t happen to be Angel, would you?”

Angel looked up from his reading. “How did you…”

“’I shall lament my death, betimes, and mourn my life, that it must be kept prisoner by sins and crimes so long before I am set free…’” He plunked a slim paperback on the table in front of Angel. “St. John of the Cross,” he explained. “Had a devil of a time finding it on such short notice…”

Angel frowned in confusion. “What…?”

“Your order,” than man said. “Three days ago? The website?”

“I…ordered this book?”

“Well, somebody did. The Campbell translation, as I recall. More obscure than the Kavanaugh version, but definitely worth the bother, if you want my opinion. I have your receipt right here,” he said, waving the piece of paper at him triumphantly.

“Is there a billing address?” asked Angel.

The man shook his head. “We go through ABEbooks.com…they bill, and all we do is fill the order. You telling me you didn’t order this book?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I didn’t order it.”

“Well, it’s paid for,” he shrugged. “So it’s yours. You really have no idea who sent it?”

Angel, still skimming the slim volume, looked up suddenly. “I have some idea,” he said with a sudden smirk. He looked at Cordelia. “Know any other technopagans?”

Her eyes widened. “You think…?”

He looked down at the pages again. “’Over the ramparts fanned, while the fresh wind was fluttering his tresses, with his serenest hand, my neck he wounded, and suspended every sense with its caresses.’ It’s her, Cordelia. It’s Jenny. She’s sending us a message.”

Cordelia paled. “We need to find Giles,” she said.

Angel fingered the volume thoughtfully. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think this one’s for us.”

**

Fiona Wyndam-Pryce looked up sedately from her book and beamed a shy smile at her lone remaining charge.

“Perhaps you’d like a break?” she suggested.

The slayer, hair tied back messily, pants dusted with carelessly unnoticed book must, one hand nervously fisting at her side while the other lazily gripped a priceless book with sweaty fingers, ceased her infernal pacing and appeared to give the sentiment a moment’s consideration.

“No,” said Buffy flatly.

“Perhaps you could at least…well, slow down for a moment?” Fiona suggested. “Perhaps clutch the ancient, irreplaceable volume with a smidge less vigour?”

Buffy carefully put the book down, then glowered at Fiona with dark, flat eyes. “Bite me,” she said.

Fiona sighed. “Another tantrum. This is SO not the time!”

Buffy cracked a tiny smile. “Ah ha,” she said softly. “She shows signs of life at last. Emotion. Actual, human, pissy-little-attitude…emotion.”

Fiona slammed her book shut, then seemed to reconsider. Eyes never leaving Buffy’s, she pointedly opened it again, then gently folded it closed. “Is that really how you see me?” she said with horrifying softness. “How all of you…really…”

Buffy squeezed shut her eyes and slowly counted to three. “Oh god. Please don’t tell me you’re going to cry or something. Look, I’m sorry, okay? I...”

“Really,” said Fiona calmly. “I truly am genuinely curious. Is it only because I’m a watcher, or is it…is it me?”

”She grows a heart,” said Buffy wearily. “Although, to paraphrase…this is SO not the time!”

“That’s not a paraphrase. It’s a direct quote.”

“Nerd.”

“Snob.”

“Brainer.”

“Bitch. Are we quite done?”

“I think so. Look, I really am sorry, okay? I admit, not the best play-nicer with the council, especially with a new, improved hellmouth on our hands complete with evil lawyers and broody MIA Giles…but still, I haven’t been…I mean, here you are trying to help, and I’m…” She hesitated. “You ARE trying to help, aren’t you?”

“I am. Look, Buffy, I know that I didn’t make the absolute BEST first impression…”

“I’ll say. I seem to recall someone threatening to lock up my sister in a watcher lab and run experiments on her.”

Fiona turned crimson. “I was saying, perhaps it was not my best possible beginning…but I had never MET a slayer before in person, and all I had to go on was the fact that Faith tried to KILL my brother and that YOU actually bested him. And here I was, still a naïve, untested little trainee who had never even left bloody England, and suddenly I’m in the middle of all of you and with that dunce Zabuto breathing down my neck saying draw the line, draw the line…”

“Guess we both made the same mistake, didn’t we?” said Buffy thoughtfully. “Forgetting that in all the power and magic and history, there really is another person in there…”

Fiona took a deep breath. “We’re okay. Gods help us, we’re okay.”

“I’m glad YOU feel better.”

Fiona looked down at her hands and idly picked at a hangnail. “Yes, well we do still have work to do,” she mumbled.

“Uh huh. So what time did you program Giles to come back for?”

Fiona winced. “Buffy, about that, I’m…”

Buffy gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. You think you’re the first person who ever gave Giles and me a night apart to cool off? Although Lorne is not a person per se…look, it’s okay, Fiona, you did good this time. He came home, and I was sleeping. I woke up, and he was gone---on YOUR errand---but now that I’ve had a chance to calm down a little, I know he’ll be back. I peg lunch at, what, half an hour away? Cordy’s bringing donuts. He’ll come.”

“He seemed better, when I left him,” Fiona offered.

Buffy gave the girl’s hand a comforting squeeze. “I’m sure he was.”

**

Gunn stood before the tray of Jubalian entrails and poked them delicately with his paring knife.

“Like this?” he said, grimacing only slightly.

Lorne shook his head. “Here,” he said. “Like this.” He took the knife from Gunn’s hand, and stabbed the platter of entrails dramatically. “I mean, sure, they LOOK fairly dead,” he remarked off-handedly. “Especially being already extracted from the body of the Jubala demon and everything. But, as I am sure you can understand, one can never be too careful…”

“Right,” said Gunn.

“So we always whack it a few times with the knife like this,” said Lorne, demonstrating. “Just to be on the safe side.”

“Right,” said Gunn again. “Of course we do.”

Lorne beamed, delighted that his protégé was understanding. He then put down the paring knife and picked up a larger, machete-sized chef’s knife, which he used to enthusiastically hack the mass of entrails into smaller pieces while he continued talking. “I’m glad you’re picking up on this so quickly, bro. Makes me feel a whole lot better about leaving you solo, you know?”

Gunn’s eyes widened. “Solo?” he gulped.

Lorne grinned. “That was a really good segue, wasn’t it?”

“Solo?” Gunn repeated.

“Oh, right.” Lorne began tossing entrail pieces into a smoking saucepan. “There’s a thing I need to take care of---with Kate, you know? She’s had an epiphany, you see, and I’m thinking she needs a little karmic nudge---and there’s this…well, I hesitate to use the term fortune teller, cause that’s SO b-movie, but anyway, he’s really, really good and I want to take her.”

Gunn frowned. “But isn’t that the kind of mojo the stuff YOU do?”

Lorne shook his head. “You know Kate as well as I do, buddy. Well, okay, you don’t, exactly, but you do know that she’s not the type to let the likes of me inside her head on a regular basis. Freaks her out enough that I’m green and scaly and in love with her and so amazing in bed that she nearly passes out from the orgasms. Plus which,” he added, pointedly ignoring Gunn’s wince of disgust. “There’s that whole conflict of interest thing. Pretty hard to read someone else’s fate when your own is so entangled in it. No, my friend---for this, we need an outsider, and not just any outsider, but a good one. Our plane for Shanghai departs this very afternoon.”

“Shanghai?” Gunn squeaked.

“Oh, relax. We’ll only be gone a week---two, at most. Or possibly, three if we sight-see. And it’s not like you don’t have your very own Wes-man at your beck and call. You’ll be fine!”

Lorne poured some purple stuff into the saucepan, then stood back as it ignited in a dramatic fiery inferno.

“Right,” said Gunn hollowly. “Fine.”

“Only one tiny thing,” said Lorne casually. “Just the teensiest favour being that we sort of need someone to watch Bruiser.”

The flames died down, and Gunn stared dubiously into the blackened saucepan. “We naming the entrails now?”

“No, not that, dummy. Bruiser. You know, Bruiser? Kate’s widdle puppy?”

Gunn shook his head. “No. No way. Nu-uh.”

“But he’s really a very sweet little…”

“No.”

“A dear, loveable…”

“No. Nope. Not happening. Me and puppies---unmixy things.”

Lorne shook his head. “I’d just hate to think what Wesley will say,” he said with mock sadness. “When I tell him HE has to do it because you’re scared of a tiny widdle defenseless puppy...”

Gunn hesitated. “You wouldn’t.”

“I’d do it, Charles. I’d tell him.”

“No!”

Lorne smirked in triumph. “Looks like we have an understanding. You know, you and I really do work well together. Does my heart good…” He poured the flambéed entrails onto the serving tray. They had, in the heat, turned a rich orange and shrunk into tiny, crunchy strips. They looked suspiciously like carrot sticks.

“There,” said Lorne, embellishing them with a dollop of blue cheese dressing. “All ready.”

“Yeah,” repeated Gunn hollowly. “Ready.”

**

Giles returned at lunchtime, directly on the heels of Angel and Cordelia. He nodded briefly to Buffy with a shy smile, then stiffly reached over to help Cordelia arrange the sandwiches.

“Well look at that,” said Fiona, flustering nervously with a messy sheaf of papers. “Time to…time to go do some library work, I think. On account of my…working in a library. Cover story, you know. Has to be…um, maintained…”

She snitched a sandwich and bolted up the stairs as the light dawned in Cordelia’s eyes. “Right,” Cordelia said, looking around her and realizing that Angel had, bless his undead heart, already disappeared. “I should go find Angel. Cause he’s…not here. So I should go find him!”

She grabbed a salad and plastic fork and scrambled away, leaving Buffy and Giles alone in the work area. They looked at each other and simultaneously burst into giggles.

Giles pointed at the departing Cordelia. “That…was…”

Buffy nodded, eyes watering. “All the subtlety…of a cement truck,” she gasped out. “Giles…”

He nodded, growing serious again. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She took a step toward him. “Can I…oh god, I think I need a hug…”

He embraced her, and was surprised to find her shaking. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “Let it out…”

“I was…worried…” she blubbered. “I hate it when you do that! I was worried and you wouldn’t talk to me and it scared me!”

He stroked her hair. “No more tears,” he said gently. “I know. And I’m sorry for it. But Buffy, I couldn’t help it. You know I couldn’t.”

She nodded, lifting up hear head with a weak smile and blinking back the last of her tears. “I know it,” she admitted with a sniffle. “But I still hate it.”

“And I still had to do it---and likely will again on more than one occasion. Thank you,” he said again.

She shrugged. “You needed space and I gave it to you. Would have been worse if I hadn’t. Did you get it out of your system, at least?”

“No.”

She blinked. “No?”

“Does that surprise you?”

She shrugged.

“It shouldn’t. I won’t run off again, if that’s what you mean. Not tonight, anyway. But Buffy, there is nothing good about this situation. The hellmouth could open. You could die---Cordelia could die---there is NOTHING good about that, and even a night of solid brooding can’t make it good.”

She gave him a funny look. “But that’s not all of it.”

“No, that’s not all of it. Buffy, I have this feeling---I don’t know how to explain it, but I know---I KNOW I’m right…”

She flushed guiltily. “Miss Calendar?”

He nodded. “She’s going to die again, Buffy. Tomorrow night, when they try and open the hellmouth---one way or another, she’s going to die.”

Buffy nodded, hands clenching by her sides. “Okay,” she said. “If you’re right…if we know it now…we’ll protect her.” She nodded confidently. “Don’t worry, Giles. We’ll protect her.”

“It won’t matter. One way or another---there’s no stopping it. She’ll die, Buffy. She’ll die---again.”

He punched the wall in nervous anger. “Damn it! That’ll teach me to believe in second chances.”

She led him to a chair and sat down on his lap, touching his face gently. “Do you really believe that?”

“Come on, Buffy, you know how this works. You really mean to tell me you haven’t thought of it too, thought of---thought of HER too?”

“I’ve been trying really, really hard not too, actually. And doing a pretty good job, I thought. Lawyers---bad. Hellmouth---bad. Giles---awwww. That’s pretty much my thought process right now.”

He looked up at her unhappily. “She’s come back, Buffy. She’s come back, and they’ll take her away again.”

He allowed his cheek to nuzzle into her hand. “I just get so tired sometimes. Bloody fate pulls you out of line…I dared to hope that maybe we had gotten points somehow. Maybe they were saying this time, you CAN have a second chance. Poor Jenny---she lost her life for the cause same as we did. And I thought---I thought that MAYBE they were giving her her just reward…but they were toying with her, with US, just as they’ve always been. They brought her back, and now they’ll let her die again. How can one night of pain and anger possibly begin to make sense of that?”

“I’m a second chance too,” she said, voice breaking.

“You are that,” he said, tears dripping soundlessly from his stony eyes. “And if I lose YOU again too…”

He slid off his glasses to catch the wetness on his fingers, and in his bare eyes, she saw the glint of Ripper, silently finishing the thought.

**
Cordelia wandered through the bowels of the library basement, munching idly on a turkey wrap and boredly keeping half an eye out for Angel. After a few moments, she doubled back and quietly slipped into Fiona’s tiny office.

“You okay?” greeted Angel. He was comfortably ensconced in Fiona’s desk chair, feet perched casually on her keyboard tray, and book resting comfortably on his lap, a cocky grin on his face as he watched her.

She jumped. “Angel! What are you…”

He shrugged. “I heard you come in.”

“Like heard me as in I was being too noisy or heard me as in heard the tread of my shoes on the carpet from rooms away with your sicko vampire hearing?”

He didn’t answer. “All right,” she sighed. “That was a low blow, and I apologize. I’ll be good, okay?”

He regarded her impassively.

“So how’s the book?”

“Very interesting, actually. I’ve never read a poem written by a vampire. I mean, I was always a drawing sort of guy myself, and it never occurred to me to...”

“Whoa, back up a second here. VAMPIRE?”

Angel nodded.

“But that’s…” she snatched the book from his hands and skimmed through the biographical introduction. “St. John of the Cross, Founder, with St. Teresa of Avila, of the Discalced Carmelites. Born at Hontoveros, Old Castile, in 1542. Ecstatic visions, exiled to Gaol, saved from death by the Blessed Virgin, yada, yada, yada…where exactly are you getting vampire from again?”

He handed off the book with a smug grin. “The Dark Night of the Soul. Fun stuff. Read THAT and tell me it wasn’t written by a vampire!”

She scanned the poem impatiently. “Darkened night, flame of love…okay, so the virginal maiden sneaks out into the abyss to rendezvous with her lover, and he…whoa.” Her eyes skimmed down the bottom of the page. “‘From all endeavour ceasing…threw them amongst the lilies there to fade.’ He KILLS her?”

“He bites her,” Angel corrected. “’My neck he wounded, and suspended every sense with its caresses.’ He bites her, and they ‘joined …transfiguring them each into the other.’ Come on, Cordelia! It’s so obvious. He…”

“He turns her,” finished Cordelia softly. “Night---transfigures…oh my god, Angel, he bites her, then he turns her.”

“Vampire,” pronounced Angel with satisfaction. “Told you!”

She shrugged away from him. “Well, don’t sound so proud about it. It’s kind of gory, isn’t it?”

“Kind of beautiful too,” he said. “Night that was my guide…”

“But why would she…”

“Darkness dearer than the morning’s pride…”

“Stop quoting at me,” she snapped. “I’m trying to think!”

“You don’t have to. It’s us, don’t you see? That same power…that same transformation…it took Jenny’s life, but it also SAVED yours. I think…Cordelia, I think she sent me this because it’s her way of giving us her blessing. I think she’s telling me that maybe…maybe she forgives me.”

**

They were just cranking up the karaoke, when, for the second night in a row, Wesley marched himself past the scaly bouncer, through the tables stacked high with Planter’s Peanuts, past the three-headed blue-skinned demon who was loudly demanding more purple stuff, and up to the bar at Caritas.

“Gunn?” he called cautiously.

A harried-looking Gunn popped up from behind the counter. “Wes! Thank god!”

Wesley took this greeting in stride. “Umm hmm. I must say, I was surprised to hear from you again like this. I was fairly thorough in my instructions regarding the baking soda. I thought we had the crisis covered.”

“No, not THAT crisis,” said Gunn. “This is another one. You know about the Lorne and Kate thing, right?”

Wesley nodded. “Drove them to the airport myself not a mere two hours ago, as I recall.”

“Thing is…” said Gunn. “They left behind a little something---I mean, besides the demon bar I’m now in charge of. Ramone!”

He snapped his fingers, and the waiter approached them. “Cover me,” said Gunn. “Me and Mr. Wyndam-Pryce here have some stuff.”

“Yes, sir,” said Ramone, saluting smartly at Gunn. He smirked at Wesley. “Boss…”

Wesley opted not to comment on that one, and silently followed Gunn into Lorne’s apartment. The demon bartender had apparently begun redecorating, in deference to his newly acquired live-in girlfriend---stray belongings had been stowed in neatly stacked boxes, and several bookshelves lay empty, awaiting Kate’s influence. It was onto one of these that Bruiser the puppy had climbed, and on which he had apparently gotten himself stranded. Gunn pointed at the quivery ball of fur with concern.

“It won’t come down,” he said.

Wesley squinted. “But that’s…THIS is the crisis?”

“It won’t come down,” Gunn repeated. “Which means it won’t eat. Which means it will die. Which means Kate will be sad. And when Kate gets sad, Lorne gets…”

“But Charles,” said Wesley in genuine confusion. “That’s…all you have to do is reach across these boxes here, pick him up, and…”

“And touch him?” said Gunn. “I don’t think so.” He squatted to the floor and timidly patted his knee. “Here, Bruiser. C’mere, puppy. Here…”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” sighed Wesley. He stepped delicately over Gunn, reached above his head and snatched the now-whimpering puppy off the shelf. Bruiser had it in him to be a big dog, but he hadn’t grown to near his potential yet, and he fit easily in the watcher’s arms.

“There,” said Wesley, putting the dog gently down. “See that?”

Gunn exhaled. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem at all, Charles. But really, you must learn to manage these sorts of things on your own. Now, shall I add desensitization exercises to the lengthy, lengthy lists of things we need to work on?”

Gunn shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

**

They convened their evening meeting at the hotel’s pool---dripping wet like the rest of them, Kevin the Chaos demon’s oozing antlers were slightly less conspicuous.

“So, we’re set for tomorrow, then,” began Lilah.

“Set?” whined Spike. “Like we could NOT be. Not like the hellmouth’s going anywhere, pet.”

Lilah frowned. “Don’t call me that.” She turned to Kevin. “He does that all the time. It’s irritating.”

Kevin balled a girly fist at Spike. “This is not the time for games, vampire.”

Spike grinned. “Demon-come-lately’s giving ME commands? Oh, come on.”

Harmony adjusted the straps of her leopard-skin bikini and cleared her throat impatiently. “Hello? This is our last night before we blow up the world, and we’re going to spend it bickering? I mean, hello! We have things to do, people! With the spells, and the potions, and the killing the slayer and all her friends so they don’t get in our…”

Kevin raised a timid hand. “We’re not blowing UP the world, actually. It’s more of a…”

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Lilah. “Slayer? What slayer?”

“THE slayer! The one I saw lurking near the hellmouth when I was coming back from shopping!”

“Here?” clarified Lilah. “You are talking about today, are you? THIS hellmouth---not the other one?”

“Of course this hellmouth, stupid. I’m not dumb, you know. Well, okay, I am, but not about this! I saw the slayer. She’s here!”

Beside them, Jenny twitched a little. They didn’t notice.

“Huh,” said Spike. “Wondered how long it would take THEM to turn up.”

“Don’t worry,” said Kevin. “It’s not a problem.”

“It isn’t?”

Kevin shook his head, raining goopy slime down on them from his swaying antlers. “Remember that thing?” he told Lilah.

She snapped her fingers. “Right! That!”

“What?” said Spike.

“There’s a thing we talked about,” said Lilah. “While you were in the shower?”

“What thing?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Lilah, patting Kevin on his arm with a self-satisfied smile. “Kevin’s taking care of it.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Of course, he is,” he muttered darkly. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

**

Buffy snuggled into a blanket, feet tucked under her knees and phone balanced comfortably in the crook of her shoulder.

“Willow?”

“Buffy!” Willow sounded thrilled to hear from her. “How are things? You guys okay? Did you see the hellmouth yet? Is it just like our hellmouth?”

“Actually, yes,” said Buffy. “Which is why is IS a hellmouth. Willow, how’s…”

“Do you have all the books you need?” said Willow. “Do you know what’s happening? Is there snow there? Do you need me to do any spells?”

“No, yes, no, and no,” said Buffy impatiently. “Willow that isn’t why I called. I…”

“Oh,” said Willow, deflating a little. “Right. The whole pre-apocalypse sharing the love in case you die thing. I’ll get Dawn.”

“Willow,”

“Buffy, it’s okay,” said Willow. “I’ll get Dawn. Once sec…”

She heard faint sounds of scuffling in the background, followed by a whiny ‘I got it!’

“Dawn?”

“Hey Buffy. You guys okay?”

“Are YOU okay? I…”

“Left me all alone with only Willow, Tara, Xander and Anya watching my every move and caring for my every need? Geez, Buffy. Over-protective much?”

“Dawnie, I just…”

“Wish you didn’t have to go off like this and save the world and maybe die and stuff, I know. Buffy, honestly. You have enough to worry about without getting all concerned over my math grades and whether or not I’m taking my vitamins. Which I am, by the way. We’re cool here.”

She let herself exhale. “Fine. Good.”

“Taking my vitamins, doing my homework, limiting my television to one hour per night---do you need to know what I had for breakfast too?”

Buffy bit her lip and burrowed deeper into the blankets. Dawn picked up on the vibe. “Hey, it’s okay,” she hastily reassured. “I was just teasing, Buffy. Maybe that was inappropriate, with you stressing and all, but…look, you ARE okay, right? I mean, you HAVE done this kind of thing before.”

“I know.”

“So…”

“So that doesn’t mean it gets any easier, Dawnie Opening a hellmouth is still opening a hellmouth, and we’ve got evil lawyers and Miss Calendar, and Giles is freaking out, and on top of it all I’ve been a bad sister and left YOU all alone…”

“You really feel guilty about that? Buffy, that’s so sweet! But you’re a great sister. And I’ve been having a blast with Willow and Tara and the gang. There’s this thingie Tara does with the blender, a jar of marshmallow fluff and some peanut butter that is just amazing, and…wait, Giles is freaking?”

“As we speak. He’s been really, really trying to work it through with me, but it’s not something so easy to get your head around. I mean, his ex, who was practically killed before his very eyes by my then-evil ex-boyfriend is magically resurrected by evil lawyers…not exactly something you can just shrug off, is it? It’s like the rational part of his brain is all trying to figure it out rationally, but meanwhile the rest of his brain is all ‘ahhh!’ and the net result is mucho scrambled circuits and no easy answers and nighttime brood-walks on the waterfront that help nobody, least of all him.”

“And you?”

“Oh, Dawnie, I’m so worried about him I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh,” said Dawn. “That’s convenient.”

“That’s what, now?”

“Convenient. How you worry about him like that? Keeps the worried circuits nice and busy so you can avoid thinking about how YOU feel. That’s kinda co-dependent, isn’t it? The way you have that whole thing set up?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Really? You knew Miss Calendar too, Buffy. And it was YOUR evil boyfriend who killed her. How do YOU feel about having her back?”

“I feel sick with worry about what this is doing to Giles.”

“Uh huh,” said Dawn.

Buffy frowned. “Oh.”

“Oh indeed. He’s probably out there right now punching a brick wall or something, isn’t he?”

“Yes…”

“Well, I’d follow his lead if I were you. Take some time for yourself. Go to the gym or something, I don’t know. But work through it---now. Or it’ll hit you, hard, when you don’t want it to. And Buffy?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you too. I mean, in case the world DOES end and stuff? I wanted you to know that.”

The phone clicked off and Buffy sat there dumbly with the receiver in her hand, not even processing.

**

Cordelia Chase rolled onto her back and gazed up at the stars from beneath the leafy shadows.

“I love it when we do this,” she said quietly.

Angel propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her. “Do what?”

“Find ourselves a quiet spot under a tree somewhere and just enjoy the quiet…”

“Um hm.”

“I mean, we’ve been here, what, two days, and we haven’t even gone for a walk yet. Why haven’t we?”

“Well, the hellmouth,” Angel suggested.

She frowned. “Right. But besides that, I mean. Who knows when we’ll get up this way again?”

“Probably soon,” said Angel. “What with the probably permanent council presence and the hellmouth being here…”

She swatted him on the arm. “Do you mind? I’m kinda trying to enjoy the moment here.”

He thought about this. “You know,” he said after a moment. “We could probably have sex right now and nobody would see us. There’s a tree in our way.”

She looked briefly exasperated. Then, her eyes abruptly sparkled as she appeared to consider his proposal. After a moment’s though, she made her decision. After all, she figured, shrugging calmly out of her sweatshirt, they all could die tomorrow.

**

Buffy took a deep breath and closed her eyes, giving herself a moment to centre her breathing before she jumped her feet back and stretched her arms out on front of her.

“You’re wobbly,” said a voice behind her.

She let her knees cave in and picked herself up off the floor to find Giles resting casually against a pile of exercise mats and watching with open smirk as she tried to untangle her limbs.

“The shaky arms would not have been a problem,” he elaborated, studying her bare limbs appraisingly as she stretched. “If you had your core properly aligned before you extended. But your knees…decidedly wobbly.”

“Smart ass.”

He shrugged. “Is it my fault that you telegraph your feelings through your posture? Although, I am sorry if I made you angry,” he said.

“I’m not…”

“You are. It’s in your elbows. Sadness goes straight to your knees, and anger---elbows. I could see it as soon as you extended, and I’m sorry if I was the cause.”

She sat up again, all pretense of workout gone. “You weren’t. Well, okay, you were, but…not like that. Not really. It’s complicated.”

He smiled. “And you’re just now realizing that?”

She took a deep breath. “I was talking to Dawn before,” she told him. “And she suggested that maybe the reason I get so caught up in your stress is not that I care so much, but that I’m using it as a coping skill to avoid dealing with my own.”

“And is she right?”

Buffy squirmed. “Maybe a little. I mean, I do care about you for you, don’t get me wrong, but at the same time---it’s like I wasn’t even processing the whole Jenny thing. On an emotional level, I mean. I was all dealing with you, and battle strategy and hellmouth issues and what does her being here mean in THAT context, but in terms of what it really…means…” She took a deep breath. “It’s simpler for me, I think, cause I can just feel guilty.”

“And guilty is easier than sad?”

“Heck, yeah. Sad is hopeless. Sad is woe is me, why do bad things happen to good people. Guilt is miserable, but it’s my own damn fault so I grin and bear it and that’s the way it is.”

He nodded. “And you really don’t think that I feel guilty too?”

“Why should you? You didn’t make Angel turn evil. You didn’t have a chance to kill him before he did any harm, and you didn’t pass up that chance when you did have it. I killed her, Giles. The only reason she’s back is cause she died---because of me.”

“And me,” he said quietly.

“What?”

He gave her a sad smile. “You really haven’t learned it yet, have you? It’s all connected, Buffy---everything, it’s all connected. Your moment with Angel---that didn’t happen in a vacuum. I was there. Your friends were there. We all made what were, at the time, the best decisions we could. Jenny kept her past a secret. Her elders kept the curse a secret. And I myself never connected the dots, never pieced together what was really going on back then. But at the time---we did our best. We’re ALL complicit.”

Buffy frowned. “So we’re all guilty, yet at the same time, it’s not our fault?”

He smiled. “Something like that.”

“And yet…I don’t think I really feel better. I mean, I do, but I sort of…don’t, you know?”

He smiled again. “I understand.”

He pulled her into his lap and they held each other, drawing from the warmth what comfort they could.

**

They met in the early hours of the morning for coffee at the JDUC Tim Horton’s, then doubled back outside and to the underground Alfie’s entrance to scout the pub for signs of hellmouth---or lawyer---activity.

“There’s only the one entry point,” Fiona had told them. “The sewer access goes into another side of the building---this is the only way in. If they’re here, we’ll see them…”

They hadn’t counted on the security guard. “Boss said there might be trouble,” he told them, stoutly barring the door.

“It’s seven in the morning,” said Fiona impatiently. “You don’t open---if you DO open tonight at all---for another twelve hours!”

The man shrugged. “Boss said there might be trouble. Wants guys here all day.”

“But we need to get in there!” Fiona whined.

The guard shrugged. “There might be trouble.”

Fiona looked like she was going to open her mouth again, when Buffy pulled her aside. “They can’t start the ritual till sundown, right?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“So that leaves us a good six hours to find another way in. I say we retreat. See if that library of yours has any floor plans to this building or anything…”

From the rooftop of the gymnasium, Lilah and Kevin watched the proceedings with binoculars. “Didn’t think a bunch of locals would be smart enough to sense the vibe,” said Lilah, eyeing the student guards. “Those won’t be a problem, will they?”

Kevin shrugged. “They might be. If we weren’t planning to teleport in, I mean.”

“Right,” said Lilah. “That thing of yours. Lucky for us, then. So, you up for some breakfast? Heard the Tim Hortons has pretty good donuts.”

Kevin gave his festering antlers a perfunctory swipe with the back of his sleeve . “Why not? I need to get some more paper napkins.”

“Okay. We’ll just stop back at the hotel and get your Tilly hat…”

Kevin laughed. “In this town? Don’t need one. Half of them think I’m a goth. The other half think I’m an engineering student. I just love clueless college kids. Especially deep fried and with butter sauce.”

“Don’t we all,” said Lilah, nodding sagely. “Don’t we all.”

**

The lunch crowd had come and gone, and Gunn motored busily up and down the bar, wiping tables. He heard the key turn in the lock of the now-closed Caritas, and looked up from his wiping to see Wesley, patting his brand new spare key securely in his pocket.

“Afternoon, Charles.”

“Hey, partner. Lunch was a SMASH,” he enthused. “Those muffins? Went over like the purple stuff, but in solid form.”

In his enthusiasm, Gunn had stopped watching where he was going. He tripped over Bruiser, and nearly went flying. “Damn!”

Wesley’s smirk was far too self-satisfied. “Having trouble?” he asked breezily.

“Wipe that grin off your face, man. I’m warning you.”

“Oh. You’re warning me, are you?” He looked down at the waggy-tailed widdle puppy, then up at the glaring, disgust-pinched grimace Gunn was leveling at it. “Very threatening,” he told his friend reassuringly. “On both counts.”

Gunn stepped carefully away from Bruiser, and settled numbly into a chair. “I just don’t get it, Wes. Damn thing’s been following me around all morning.”

Wesley smiled. “Because he senses you don’t like him much, I expect. He’s trying to win you over. Trixie did that too---followed father around like a…”

“Whoa. TRIXIE? Who’s that?”

“Little poodle puppy dog we had when I was small. A school-friend of Fiona’s had just had a litter, and she brought one home one day. Lovely little thing---snowy white, with fluffy tufts of fur that curled out just so…Father hated her on sight, of course.”

Gunn fidgeted, his happy mood suddenly sapping out of him. “Right. Of course.”

“But we took SUCH good care of her, Fiona and I. Fed her, played with her, took her for little walks…everything just so. That was actually how Mother wound up positioning it to Father when it came to decide on keeping her---the education of it all. Teaching us responsibility, you see. Discipline. Structure.”

There was an uncomfortable clench to Wesley’s jaw.

“And?” Gunn reluctantly prompted.

“And we thought we were handling it,” said Wesley. “We thought we were doing a good job. And we continued thinking so right up until the day he took us to the park and drowned her in the river.”

Gunn instinctively cast a protective glance at Bruiser. “He WHAT? Why?”

“He drowned her in the river. We were getting too attached, you see. You must never get too attached to your charges, because emotion is the enemy of control.”

Gunn let his hand drop to his side, and Bruiser took advantage of this lapse of control to try a tiny lick.

“Oh, man,” said Gunn after a moment. “That sucks, bro.”

Wesley straightened bravely in his seat. “Well, I’d like to think I’ve evolved since then. Done better than HE thought I would, bleeding heart notwithstanding…”

“Oh, man…” Gunn gave Bruiser’s furry chin an off-hand stroke. “You have, Wes. You have. Only reason we’ve done so well is cause we stick together. It’s those kinds of relationships that…look, you do need a brain, but you need a heart just as much---can’t fight so well if you don’t have anything at stake, can you?”

“I know that, Charles. But at the same time---brutal and heartless as it was, it WAS an effective lesson. You should try picturing it in your head sometime---with, say, for example, Wolfram and Hart playing Father, and Cordelia playing poor, dead Trixie…”

Gunn shuddered. “It isn’t like that.”

“But it COULD be, and it’s why we have to be so careful. We have to…”

“What? Be cold, unfeeling bastards just so nobody ever hurts us? Nothing ventured, nothing gained? Wes, it doesn’t work that way. You’re not a little kid anymore, and it’s not just you and little sis against the big scary world. We’re all in this together, bro. You and I and Angel and them---we’re ALL in this together, no matter what your psycho Vulcan father might say.”

“I know that, Charles,” Wesley said again. “Most of the time…I know it, I really do.”

Gunn watched him for a moment, then casually picked up the towel and started polishing the bar again. Bruiser zipped by, giving his new friend an almost-knowing almost-wink before hopping onto Wesley’s lap and nuzzling insistently into the distracted watcher’s balled-up, shaking fist.

**

It was just after five at Mission Central, in the bowels of the Stauffer Library at Queen’s University, when one of Fiona’s monitoring crystals began wailing like a siren and emitting magical purple flares.

“Damn it,” grumbled Fiona, rushing to check on her readings. “They’ve gone around us! They’ve…they’ve teleported inside!”

They gathered their backpacks, and grimly made their preparations, but when they arrived at their hotspot, the same security guard was casually resting against a garbage dumpster, smoking a cigarette.

“Hello,” said Fiona, smiling sweetly. “We need to get in there.”

The guard shook his head. “We’re closed tonight,” he said. “Termites.”

“Yes, of course,” said Fiona. “And I have MY extermination crew in there right now dealing with them. I need to go in there and supervise.”

The guard frowned. “I don’t think so.”

“Now, now,” said Fiona calmly. “If we could just talk about this for a moment…”

“No.”

“But I…”

With an impatient sigh, Angel shoved his way in front of her. “You know, I really hate doing this,” he apologized. Then, he growled, vamped out and barked “Let us in.”

The guard hopped to his feet. “Okay.”

**

They tiptoed carefully into the dark, cavernous pub and Buffy winced. “Why is it always the bad guys who have the hordes of backup?” she grumbled. Lilah had clearly come prepared. They’d set up shop on a makeshift dais, probably to allow the scoobies a suitably distressing view, but they had barred the way with what looked like every vampire they could get their hands on.

Lilah, Spike and Harmony, each with crystal in hand, formed a triangle around a bound and prostrate Jenny, who was not even pretending to be out of it anymore. She struggled openly, in obvious distress---quieting eerily when she caught sight of Buffy and her friends.

Tiny cones of light flowed between the crystals. Lilah beamed. “Slayer! Good of you to join us. Unfortunately, you’re too late, of course---the ritual’s already started. I can feel the floor going all warm and fuzzily evil beneath us even as we speak…”

Beneath them, it was true, tiny cracks were starting to chip into the floor as the hellmouth fought its way open. Lilah smiled benignly at the pack of vampires.

“Get them.”

The scoobies went flying in four directions at once. Buffy dove headfirst into the crowd, trying to make headway, trying to reach the dais, where the cracks of the hellmouth widened.

“Jenny,” Giles whispered. He looked desperately up at the dais, took a halting breath, and threw himself once more into the melee. They had to thin the herd.

Cordelia fought her way through the rumble, ducking flying stakes left and right, her heartbeat accelerating dangerously. Careful, she mentally warned. With great anger comes great power---but with great calm, comes greater precision…

“Come on, Slayer,” taunted Lilah, as the crystals ominously glowed. “You can do better than that…”

Buffy lunged, stifling a distracted moan as Giles dove to her aid, then stumbled under the crush of the onslaught. She looked away from Lilah just long enough to catch Angel’s eye and wave him over to her watcher’s aid, as Giles raised half a knee and got in a desperate but well-placed kick that sent three vampires tumbling.

Cordelia ducked, and found herself an unoccupied corner where she could get her bearings before diving back in. There was nothing they could do. She saw that now. They were outnumbered, they were too late, and there was nothing they could do…careful, she warned herself sharply. Calm down…

Buffy found herself a tiny scrap of footing, and with sudden slayer energy, leapt to the dais---noticing, at the same time Angel did, that it wasn’t Lilah chanting the spell at all. It was cover, all of it was---cover for a tiny gray chaos demon who suddenly yelped the last of his spell, antlers crackling magic as he dove into the protection of the melee. Tentacles started creeping their way out of the hellmouth, and in Buffy’s eyes, Cordelia saw the first, faint glint of uncontrolled panic.

She took deep breaths and tried to calm herself, her gaze drifted around her and landing unwittingly on the bound and struggling Jenny. Her soul abruptly starting reeling---from stress, from panic, from guilt…but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Their gazes locked--- and suddenly, the jumble of alphabet soup in her battle-panicked brain starting spelling out words…

---Hey, kiddo.---

She gasped, and slumped a little. ---Jenny?---

---‘Bout time you got here.--- On the dais, Jenny’s eyes glowed, and magic leaked out of her fingers and dribbled onto the growing maw of the hellmouth.

---Not that it matters much,--- continued Jenny with a wry smile. ---It’s already started. And only blood will close it now. My blood. You knew that, right?---

Cordelia nodded, and felt her eyes sting with tears. ---I’m sorry.---

---Don’t be. Everything for a reason, kiddo. You know how it works.---

Cordelia shook her head. ---It’s so unfair…---

Jenny twitched, eyes alight like circuits. ---Not really. I had a second chance, and I did what I needed to with it.--- On the dais, still bound, she struggled weakly, breath coming in deep, hitching heaves as the telepathy exerted her. ---At least, I hope I did. You got my message, didn’t you?---

---St. John the vampire bard? It WAS a message. I knew it!---

The bond briefly wavered as Jenny collected herself. ---It’s important that you understand,---she said. ---There’s power out there, Cordelia. There’s power, and there’s danger and magic---but in spite of everything, it’s beautiful, and you know---you’re none of you the first. Others have seen, others have felt, others have…have shared…and it’s there, if you know where to look for it. There’s power out there, Cordelia. But there’s comfort out there too…---

Cordelia stumbled, the mental effort draining her also. ---Should we…?---

Jenny nodded. ---It’s almost time. You’ll tell them…---

The letters faded, and Cordelia cried out. ---Jenny, wait! Wait…---

The connection flickered to life again. ---Tell them…what?--- Cordelia pleaded.

---Tell Angel…he’s not forgiven. He never CAN be, you know. But he’s redeemed---in my eyes, anyway. It’s a fine distinction, but it’s one he’ll understand.---

---Okay…---

---Tell Buffy I’m proud of her. And tell Giles…--- She smiled oddly. ---Tell Giles that sometimes, you really DO get second chances---even if they aren’t what they might seem.---

---Okay, THAT one I don’t understand.---

---You will.--- Jenny’s bindings suddenly melted beneath her, and she raised a finger wearily and stared straight at Cordelia. ---You want a boost?---

Jenny touched her finger to the ground, and a snake of blue energy coursed beneath it and traveled the length of the of the floor, immolating vampire after vampire as it swept the room, and zapping Cordelia from beneath her feet, momentarily dazing her.

---Jenny? You there? Jenny!!!---

She heard a strangled cry from Giles, and before they could react, Jenny had stumbled to her feet---and dove directly into the maw of the hellmouth. She crackled with magic, and as the energy beams caught on the edges of the pit, they snared the gap closed.

“No!” Cordelia shouted. She lunged through the thinning herd of vampires and threw herself at the whirlwind that was slowly blinking out beneath her. She tripped, and caught her hand on the hellmouth’s edge. Her skin glowed blue, as Jenny herself had---and the current of magic sealed up the hellmouth neatly.

**

Buffy came to with a groggy wince of pain. “Owwww.”

“Easy,” said Giles. “Easy…”

She sat up. “Lilah…”

“Got away,” said Giles softly. “By the time we got our bearings…”

“Owwww,” said Buffy again.

He smiled. “It was a very big fight,” he told her. “A hundred vampires at least. You did well, Buffy.”

She frowned. “Owww again. And why are YOU not limpy?”

“Cordelia,” he said. “I’m not entirely clear what happened, but somehow…she got herself a boost. And after using it to close the hellmouth, she had just enough of it left to heal the worst of our injuries. She tapped herself out on Angel’s chest wound, and I made her stop---figured that with your slayer strength, you’d rebound a lot faster than she would. She’s with Angel now---still sparking a little, and trying to process this whole thing.”

“But you…you’re okay? Miss Calendar…”

“She shouldn’t have been here,” said Giles, more rueful than sad. “The magic they used to MAKE her here---it was dangerous. It was wrong. She clearly knew it. And in my heart of hearts, I suppose I knew it too. She came to our rescue---then she went…to where she was meant to be, I suppose. She’s at peace, Buffy. She earned it.”

Buffy nodded. “We’re all okay,” she said, eyes wide with wonder. “After all that…Cordy, And Angel, and…hey, has anyone seen Fiona? Is she…”

“On the phone with the council putting in my request for vacation time,” said Giles with a grin. “We’re taking a honeymoon.”

“We are?”

“We’re already halfway to Montreal,” he told her. “All those old castles and things, it’s frightfully romantic.”

“But to have a honeymoon,” said Buffy slowly. “You kind of have to…get married first…”

Giles grinned. “It generally works that way, yes.”

**

In a small private airplane hangar on the outskirts of town, Spike and Harmony slouched lethargically in fold-up deck chairs, and watched Lilah pace with Kevin, anxiously checking on arrangements.

“How much longer?” Harmony whined.

Spike sighed heavily. “Wouldn’t take so long if Sir Goops-a-Lot didn’t keep dripping antler slime all over the sodding propellers.”

Kevin briefly turned their way and pouted, waving a puny fist at Spike. “You stop right now with the racial slurs, vampire! I can’t help it that I have antlers!”

“Well, if you weren’t cuddling in so close with officious boss lady over there,” said Spike, cocking a finger at Lilah, “You wouldn’t be getting close enough to the bloody plane to gum it up.”

Harmony rolled her eyes. “Oh, great. Here we go…”

“No,” said Kevin, quaking hard enough from anger that little drips of slime rained furiously down on his cheeks. “We are not doing this. I’ve had enough, Spike. I have had ENOUGH! So let me lay it out for you, man: she doesn’t love you. She never did love you. You can just stop trying right now because it isn’t going to happen.”

Spike gazed dubiously at Kevin’s flabby bicep as it wobbled with fury. “Right,” he scoffed. “You’re a MUCH better specimen than I am…”

Kevin briefly looked like he was going to sock him. Then, he turned on his heels and whined “Lilah!”

Lilah stalked regally over and leveled her gaze at Spike. “Are you behaving?”

“He’s not,” whined Kevin. “Lilah, he’s making fun of me again. He called my antlers drippy!”

“Well, they are,” said Spike.

Lilah hauled Spike to his feet and dragged him bodily away from the group. “We need to talk,” she told him.

His face crumpled. “You mean you’re serious? It’s not just antler-boy getting all manly and you’re really SERIOUS?”

Lilah softened. “Look,” she said gently. “You’ve been loyal, and you’ve been helpful, so I’m trying to let you down easy here. It isn’t you, Spike. It’s me.”

“But…”

“Seeing Kevin again…we have a history, do you understand? There no way you could possibly compete with…look, it’s like Drusilla and you. A love like that.”

He eyed Kevin suspiciously. “Really? Like Dru and I?”

She nodded. “And seeing him again….FIGHTING with him again, and doing acts of nefarious evil…it brought it all back to me. And it made me realize that life is short and love is fleeting. If he’s the one…like Dru and you…don’t I owe it to myself to find out if we can make it work? To at least give it a try?”

Spike felt himself tearing up. “You do, pet. To have it like that…you do.”

“We’ll drop off you and Harmony anywhere you want,” she reassured him. “Sunnydale, or L.A. or who knows where…”

“Good. Right.”

“And I hope we can still be friends,” she told him.

He nodded. “Sure. Absolutely.”

Lilah clapped her hands together briskly. “Well, than. Shall we?”

**

Cordelia Chase stood shivering in the Kingston train station, fidgeting with her bags.

“Geez, what’s taking so long?” she complained. “How long does it take a person to buy some coffee and a candy bar from a vending machine?”

“For a person, not long,” said Buffy with a smirk. “But Angel’s not a person, is he?”

Cordelia let go of her bag and swatted Buffy on the arm. “Smart ass.”

“It’s one of my endearing qualities.”

She shivered again. “It’s freezing!”

Fiona looked up briefly from a file folder she’d been fiddling with all afternoon. “It’s not so bad,” she said absently. “It’s not the temperature, it’s the wind chill.”

Buffy grinned. “Is that, like, the Canada equivalent of ‘it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity?’”

The door stumbled open behind them, and Angel emerged with a tray of coffee and a handful of candy bars, both of which he distributed to the girls. He also produced a styrofoam cup of water and a flaccid teabag, which he offered to Giles.

“Thanks for the ride to the train station,” he said to Fiona.

She looked up again. “Hmmm? Oh, no problem. I had to be here anyway to pick up my new trainee. She should be arriving any second now.”

“Trainee?” said Giles curiously. “You’re awfully young to be getting one of those. I didn’t get one until I had been with the council for years.”

“Well, Mr. Giles, I do actually have a hellmouth here,” she huffed. “That’s rather a circumstance.”

He nodded. “You do. And a solemn burden it is, my dear.”

She sobered appropriately, then broke into a grin. “Stop nagging! I’ll keep in touch, I already promised I would!”

“Good girl. I believe this is your train, is it?”

They stood back from the tracks as the train pulled to a stop with a dramatic whistle. Fiona began scanning the crowd.

“We’d better go,” said Buffy. “Our train leaves from the other platform, and it’s all the way over thataway, and…”

“Right,” said a distracted Fiona. “Lovely trip, then. Don’t be a stranger.”

Cordelia flew into Giles’ arms. “You’re leaving? Already?”

“Now, now,” he soothed. “It’s not like we’ll never see you again. We’ll be home in just a few weeks, Cordelia.”

“And our flight home connects through Los Angeles, as all flights invariably do,” said Buffy, smiling. “You can meet us or something.”

“And it’s not like you don’t deserve the vacation and all,” sniffled Cordelia, tearing up a little. “But we’ll miss you SO much, won’t we, Angel?”

“Sure,” said Angel. “Right. Of course we will.”

Giles laughed, and Buffy gave him a happy squeeze. “It’s so good to see you like this! I love you. I mean, I loved you when you were all dark and broody too---that was kind of sexy, actually, even if it WAS really irritating, but this, this happy-vacation-us stuff is really fun too.”

“Two weeks,” he beamed. “Not only did Fiona get us actual council approval for this little vacation, she managed to get all expenses paid too. It seems that, amidst all the hellmouths and slayers and such, the council accidentally, well…neglected some of the mundanities of running an actual, legal business. Such as, for example, statutory vacation pay. Which has, now that Fiona here caught the error, been paid retroactively---with interest.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “You did that?” she said to Fiona.

Fiona shrugged. “God is in the details. Let this be a lesson to us all about getting so caught up in the supernatural that we forget our humbler responsibilities. Such as, for example, employee payroll deductions.”

“Not complaining,” grinned Buffy. “Well, not now, anyway.”

“Oh, me either,” said Giles. “Two weeks alone with you, to do whatever I like…”

Cordelia swatted him on the arm. “Hey! Keep the thoughts clean around the vampire-sense-y, why dontcha!”

He flushed, grateful for the interruption of the tiny stranger in the large woolen cloak who tapped him suddenly on the shoulder. “Excuse me. I’m looking for a Fiona Wyndam-Pryce?”

“Here,” said Fiona briskly, running over to investigate. “I’m Fiona, right here.”

The figure unwrapped itself from the cloak to reveal a slim woman with long, stringy hair that fell over her face in messy, travel-sweated clumps. The girl withdrew a clammy hand from beneath the cloak and extended it warmly.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m…”

Cordelia stared at the new arrival. “Fred?” she squeaked.

The girl gave a tiny bow. “Winnifred Burkle at your service. Hey, Cordelia. Great to see you again.”

“But you’re…I thought you were in Texas, safe in the bosom of your loving family, recovering, after your rescue, by us, from the Pylean hell dimension.”

“I was,” chirped Fred. “Right up until the watcher’s council recruited me. Guess there aren’t too many people out there who can handle metaphysical anomalies from both a scientific AND experiential point of view.”

“Train ride was pleasant?” said Fiona.

“Oh, sure it was. VERY exciting. I’ve never been on a train before. They have little sandwiches.”

“So you’re a watcher now?” goggled Cordelia.

“Well, a trainee.” She turned to Fiona. “So is the anomaly here? Cause I was really told that there would be a metaphysical anomaly.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Buffy. “You’ll have about as much anomaly as you can handle. Good luck with that, nice meeting you, and we really do have a train to catch…”

She took advantage of Cordelia’s distraction with the new arrival to sneak on her way with Giles.

“So,” said Fred, looking around her. “Can we go see the anomaly now? Is it nearby?”

“You know,” said Angel, watching Fiona and her new trainee get acquainted, “It’s so nice to see young people these days who are excited about their jobs.”

“Sure,” said Cordelia. “Just what we’ve been missing. Young girls who like to play with hellmouths.”

“Well, still,” said Angel. “She does look pretty pumped about it. That’s…”

Cordelia grinned. “Well, it can be a TINY bit sexy,” she conceded. “With the kicking, and the fighting, and the ripply training muscles, and the…”

He slung his arm around her shoulder and walked her to the waiting train. “Think they’ll be okay?”

“Who, them?” she said, turning back to watch Fiona and Fred.

He cast his eye in the other direction, toward Buffy and Giles’ departing train, and she nodded. “Oh, that? Sure they will. You know how it goes. It will get bad again. But it will get good too…”

He leaned over and gave her a tiny kiss. “When did you get so smart?”

She shrugged him off. “And when did you get so sappy? Have you been into my self-help books again?”

“Cordelia…”

“Sorry,” she said soberly, climbing onto the train with him. “Kinda let the snark get the best of me there for a second. Guess it still freaks me out a little that sometimes, you need comfort too.”

He looked so stricken that she smiled again, and nuzzled into his arms as they settled themselves. “They’re good. We’re good.”

“I almost lost you,” he told her. “Last night…we were in deep.”

“We were,” she agreed. “But, in the words of the immortal Indigo Girls, ‘not as deep as the love I’m in. I know not how, I sink or swim.’”

He let her enjoy the sentiment for a moment. Then, he said “They didn’t say that.”

“Well, okay, they didn’t. Not directly, anyway. But ‘in the words of some immortal unnamed folk song writer, as co-opted by the still otherwise very good Indigo Girls’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?”

The train pulled out of the station. “We are so finding you a new band,” said Angel.

She raised her head from his comfy chest in huffy indignation. “ME? You’re one to talk, Mr. There-is-no-sentiment-that-cannot-be-expressed-by-a-Manilow lyric!”

The train rolled smoothly, and they drifted slowly toward home. For a long while, they didn’t speak again. They didn’t need to.

**

Epilogue: All I Really Need is a Song in my Heart

Buffy Summers dropped her suitcase on the lawn and skipped up the driveway.

“Dawn, are you there?”

Her sister raced out the front door and flew into her arms. “Buffy, you’re back! Where’s Giles?”

“Paying the taxi driver. Why, did you miss him?”

“Of course! But Buffy, tell him to hurry up, we have a surprise for you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You do?”

It was then she noticed a smirking Xander watching them from the entryway. “What have you guys been up to? This isn’t another puppy, is it?”

“Giles!” squealed Dawn. She cornered the watcher in a giant bear hug. “You’re back!”

He smiled and returned the hug as best he could. “You’d think we’d been gone an eternity,” he teased.

“Well, a lot can happen in two weeks.”

He looked briefly alarmed. “What, is there another puppy?”

“No, Alamo’s fine, just come inside!”

Buffy was already inside and skimming through the mail. “Bills, bills…hey, check out the fancy paper with the L.A. postmark,” she showed Giles. “What’s THAT about? Somebody getting married?”

“No, it’s about the baby,” said Dawn. “We can talk about that later.”

“BABY???”

“God, don’t you ever check your email? Come downstairs, already! Xander, come show them!”

Buffy shook her head. “Not so fast. I want to know what’s going on here.”

“Well, having Willow and Tara staying here again…” began Dawn.

“Yes?”

“Well, I’d really missed them. I like having them around. And you know, it really does make sense a little. I mean, you’ll still have to go to L.A. from time to time, and it’s kind of inconvenient to have them coming and going like that and living out of suitcases, when they could just be…like they used to, you know? Here.”

“We talked about this. Dawnie, there’s just no space! I mean, I guess they could have my old room, but five adults and one shower? And we’d have NO privacy…”

Dawn grinned broadly. “Just come downstairs…”

Buffy and Giles traded glances, then followed Dawn and Xander into the basement.

It had been transformed: the floor had been lined with a warm, even tile, and the walls painted a pale creamy yellow. On the far end, the still-exposed plumbing had impeded renovation, so the salvage from what had to be a massive cleaning-out of all the junk they had stashed in the basement over the years had been neatly relegated to that side of the room and stacked neatly between the bumps of piping. But the other half…

Xander and his construction buddies had clearly been busy. He’d put the miniature apartment on a small raised platform to screen it off a little and make it warm and comfortable. There was a bed, some built-in shelving, and two free-standing open-concept walls that sectioned off a tiny bathroom, complete with shower unit.

“Tito the amazing really was…amazing,” said Xander, fingering the shower nozzle proudly. “This won’t interfere with the one upstairs.”

Buffy was speechless. “Xander, it’s…”

“They’re in L.A. right now helping Lorne and Kate get ready for tomorrow,” said Dawn. “But they’ve already moved back in, I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t. I mean, not if it’s like this! This is…wait, what’s happening tomorrow in L.A.?”

“I’ll fill you in while you’re making me pancakes for breakfast. So you like this? Privacy AND Willow and Tara and happy times for everyone?”

“It’s beautiful,” said Buffy.

“And of course, they still get kitchen and living room rights,” said Dawn. “This just lets ‘em have a little privacy and stuff. And their own bathroom. You guys still have to share with me.”

“We’ll manage,” said Giles. Then, to Xander, he said “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

“We can make the extra bedroom an office or something,” said Dawn. “Whatever you want. I’ll just need a day or so to clear out Alamo’s stuff.”

“His stuff?”

“Hey, it’s been two weeks…”

“Now,” said Buffy, wisely choosing to ignore that opening. “What was this you said about a baby?

**

Cordelia flew into the Hyperion and dumped her school bag on the floor.

“I have a job!” she squealed.

Angel shoved aside his newspaper.

“What?”

“A job! Well, besides this one.”

“Cor, that’s…what kind of job?”

“Well, I told you how Professor Mel’s been picking on me, right? The Television News Reporting instructor? The one who accused me of being a failed actress using journalism as a last-ditch effort to get my face on TV?”

“Well, he said that to everyone, didn’t he? Not you specifically…”

“So? He’s a jerk and a prick and he was really giving it to me today because I accidentally edited out the background sound on my E.N.G. which was SO not my fault, by the way…”

He sighed. “Cordy, the job?”

“Right. Anyway, who should overhear this tirade of eviltude but Lynne Ivany…and do you know what she told me?”

“Hmmm?”

“That’s he’s RIGHT, Angel. That I really shouldn’t be in television journalism…because I am a natural for radio.”

“Oh.”

“Apparently I have just the voice for it, and in her words, a personality that just SCREAMS personality. And it turns out this station she freelances for has an opening for a call-in radio show gig that they’ve had trouble filling because it’s Friday night from midnight to 6 am. I could so do that! Cause, hey, vampire hours, right? And we’re usually done the big nasty by midnight, right? Ewww, that came out wrong. Well, you know what I mean, the visions and the big bads and the scooby summits, and it’s only once a week, and they’re paying me, AND I get class credit!”

Angel frowned. “A radio show?”

“Good evening L.A., banter, banter, banter, our topic tonight is, banter, banter, banter, then taking callers and mixing in the bits of music and chitchat and stuff to fill out rest of it. Oh, and a cool nickname!”

“A what?”

“Well, I’ll be a personality, see. Like Rockin’ Rick? Or Bulldog Dan? You never use your REAL name because there could be psycho stalkers out there.”

“Oh,” said Angel flatly. “Great.”

“Anyway, we were talking about what I could use and she was practically drooling when she found out about you. Cause this is the CITY of Angels, see, and your NAME is Angel…”

“Right. How convenient.”

“…and that’s bound to come up, what with all the banter…so that’s my tag. For KTLX, City of Angels, this is Chase, your ace, in the arms of HER Angel. Isn’t that just…the coolest?”

He gave her an indulgent hug. “Of course.”

“So how was YOUR day? Anything exciting happen?”

He pulled out of her embrace with a sly smile. “Actually, yes.”

“Oh?

“I was doing some cleaning,” he said. “And I heard some funny noises coming from your old bedroom.”

“Funny? Funny how?”

“Well, if I didn’t know any better…” He paused suspensefully. “I’d say that Phantom Dennis has himself a new Phantom Girlfriend.”

“No!”

“Sure sounded that way to me.”

She frowned. “But that would mean we have another ghost in here. And you can’t get a ghost unless somebody’s…” Her eyes widened. “Oh my god…Phantom Jenny?”

The wall thumped once in smug acknowledgement

**

End part 1.

**

They left Sunnydale first thing in the morning.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” said Buffy. “Lorne and Kate…”

“It should be rather fascinating,” said Giles. “I have never seen a Pylean adoption ceremony before.”

“Cause you don’t know any Pyleans,” said Buffy, rolling her eyes. “Or at least, none that have adopted ‘til now. So Dawn, they just came back from China with a baby?”

“God, you really don’t read your email. Kate’s really embraced the normal life,” said Dawn. “She quit the Sunnydale PD right after you left, and was on the road to L.A. the next morning. They went to Asia to find themselves.”

“Looks like they found someone else entirely,” observed Giles.

Dawn’s eyes widened. “Giles! You cracked a joke!”

“It appears I did. Shall I spoil it by saying something educational about the marvelous cultural opportunity we will be having? Well, then. Looks like we’re here…”

They climbed out of the car and stepped into the Hyperion, momentarily taken aback by the transformation: the spare lobby had been temporarily cleared of AI’s files and office detritus and festooned with bright decoration---orange and red balloons, silver streamers and all manner of glittery embellishment. At one end stood Gunn, the designated food person, fiddling with a lavish buffet table. At the other end stood Cordelia, the designated camera person, who was filming the non-demon parts as an assignment for her video editing class. And in the middle of the lobby, as proud centerpiece, stood a giant hot tub.

“Huh?” goggled Buffy. “Is that what it looks like it is?”

“Yup,” said Willow, sneaking in from the office behind them. “Baptism, Pylean style: the baby is bonded with her new parents by taking on their essences.”

Dawn squinted. “Essences?”

“Lorne and Kate spent the night in that,” Willow explained. “The water is saturated with…well, them. So at the end of the ceremony, we dunk the baby…”

“Ewwww!” winced Dawn.

“It sounds lovely,” said Giles, glaring warningly at Dawn.

“I hope so. I’m the one whose supposed to hold her down there. It would kind of ruin it if I accidentally drowned the little thing…”

“Speaking of,” said Dawn impatiently. “Where IS the baby?”

“In seclusion with the high priestesses, of course,” said Willow with a modest bow.

“You guys?” squeaked Dawn. “I thought you were just helping them set up the food! Not that you don’t have it under control,” she called to Gunn.

“We thought so too,” said Willow. “But we had a little trouble finding a Pylean high priestess to officiate, for obvious reasons. And can you imagine asking a human priest to officiate at the adoption of a Chinese baby by a white human mother and a green demon father?”

“I see your point,” said Buffy with a smile. “But you can’t tell me you aren’t getting a kick out of playing wiccan priestess for the day.”

“For the day? Buffy, we’re, like, her godparents or something. Lorne and Kate are taking this VERY seriously.”

“First-time parents,” said Dawn. “Figures.”

The door clanged open as Xander, Anya and Wesley finally arrived.

“Wow,” said Xander. “Nice spread.”

“You should be taking notes,” said Anya. “For when we have babies. So we can do it like this.”

“Us? Have…babies?”

“Not now,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You can commence breathing again.”

“A good idea,” said an amused voice behind them. “Wouldn’t want you to pass out or anything and ruin my baby’s naming ceremony.”

A positively glowing Kate stepped serenely into the midst of the gathering.

“Uh, no,” stammered Xander. “I wouldn’t…I mean…”

“We’re all quite pleased for you,” translated Giles. “And happy to be here.”

“And some of us, for personal reasons, even,” teased Buffy. “I swear, if I hear one more word about the marvelous opportunity we will all be having to witness a genuine Pylean ritual…”

Kate smiled. “Enjoy it, Giles, as it will be the only Pylean ritual you ever see. I swear, this is the only pleasant thing Lorne’s culture has ever produced, besides him, of course. Are we ready?”

Amidst scattered nods, Willow disappeared to track down Lorne and Tara while Kate organized the rest of them.

“Semi-circle, around the hot tub,” Kate explained. “Angel, Cordelia…okay, now Wesley, Gunn, Buffy, okay, and Giles and Dawn on this side, and Xander, Anya over here…”

Lorne stepped softly into place behind her. “You ready?” he said.

Kate nodded. “Let’s do it…”

All eyes turned to the grand staircase, where Tara appeared with a small bundle in her arms. She stopped at the foot of the tub, and with Willow’s help, unwrapped the baby.

The infant was clothed only in a diaper, and Tara cuddled her gently, beckoning Lorne and Kate to her side. With solemn ceremony, the two parents each grabbed a tiny hand.

“We conduct this naming ceremony according to ancient Pylean custom,” began Willow. “Dating from the olden days, when those captured in battle would join the clan who took them. I think the metaphor is obvious, people.”

“Love’s like a battle?” guessed Dawn. “Lorne’s captured Kate?”

“I think they are referring to the fact that Lorne and Kate come from such different backgrounds,” said Buffy.

“It’s brilliant,” said Giles. “That such a barbaric culture could produce a ritual so lovely…”

Willow cleared her throat impatiently, and Tara angled the baby slightly so that everyone could see her.

“But in Pylean culture, this child would not simply be joining a family,” she continued. “She would be joining a clan, an extended family of those her parents hold dear---friends, family, often, those who have proven themselves in battle with them….”

“You are our clan,” said Kate. “Every one of you here…you’ve earned it. You’ve given us your love and trust, and now, we are calling upon it again and asking you to assume this responsibility. She will consider you her own, and may call on you at any time for counsel.”

They nodded solemnly.

“When we call your name, you’ll approach the tub,” explained Tara. “You’ll immerse your right hand into the water and swirl it around three times to mix your essence in with those of her parents, then you’ll place your damp palm on the child’s heart and give her a blessing. Charles Gunn?”

Gunn stepped forward, swirled his hand in the tub and placed his palm on the baby’s bare chest. “Love and peace,” he said.

“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, and in absentia, Fiona?”

“Bravery and wisdom,” he said, touching the baby softly.

“Rupert Giles?”

Giles nodded and swirled his hand in the water. “Faith and honour.”

“Buffy Summers?”

The baby scrunched her eyes and wiggled in Tara’s arms. “Hope and happiness.”

“Dawn Summers?”

Dawn grimaced as her hand hit the water, then twirled her fingers playfully. “Fun and fashion.”

“Angel?”

He approached the baby timidly, then touched her with cold, damp fingers. “Strength and courage.”

“Cordelia Chase?”

She twirled her fingers with playful flourish. “Heart and harmony,” she bestowed.

“Xander Harris?”

He stood over his new godchild thoughtfully for a moment, dripping water onto her silky black hair. “Brains and beauty,” he finally decided.

“And Anya?”

She tapped her fingers into the water. “Wealth and worldliness,” she concluded, giving the baby a satisfied nod.

Tara swirled her free hand into the water and placed it on the baby’s heart. “Pride and passion,” she said with a smile.

She passed the baby to Willow, who dipped her palm in the tub, then lightly stroked the child’s tummy with her damp finger and bestowed the final blessing. “Magic and mystery.”

Kate paused to gently wipe the tears off Lorne’s blubbering cheek before addressing her baby’s honorary family.

“Lorne doesn’t have a legal last name,” she explained. “And mine is an L, so he’ll be represented.” She smiled at the baby. “Clan Lockley, then. We stand with you.”

Lorne nodded to Giles. “We’d like to call her Jenny, if that’s all right.”

Giles stammered dumbly, clearly stunned. “That would be…lovely.”

Kate’s smile was bittersweet. “We all have a lost friend,” she said. “And on the mother’s side…she was someone I knew, but not so well in life as after….she never got her due, never got her chance…but she helped us, in ways we only recently came to understand, and she deserves to be remembered.”

Kate swirled her hand into the mire, then touched her baby’s forehead. "We name you Janna Marlena…in their memory.”

She let her hand fall away and nodded to Willow, who dunked the baby into the tub and submerged her. “Janna Marlena,” she repeated. “In their memory.” She let go of the baby, and Lorne and Kate plunged their hands into the water together and pulled their daughter into the world.

*
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The end

Also available: A Very Karaoke Christmas aka The Christmas Fic