The Slayer stared at Angel, her eyes alight.

"Angel, what was that?"

The vampire didn’t answer, only looked at the ground, clenching his fists. Giles stood aside, watching, his hands in his pockets. Buffy turned to him, her face clenched with agitation.

"Giles? What do we do?"

The Watcher considered this, while the hospital continued its bustle beyond the waiting area. Polishing his glasses on his handkerchief, he addressed his Slayer.

"She needs help. The girl is obviously not stable, and will not be able to handle herself in the presence of this Robius character."

He cleared his throat, looking at the two before him.

"And we certainly cannot afford the end of the world."

Nodding in silent agreement, Angel turned and headed towards the elevators. Buffy was taken aback by his silence; she muttered a quick goodbye to her Watcher, and rushed after her boyfriend. As she was leaving, she heard Giles call out a final piece of advice.

"Be careful."

*I intend to.* Her mind was reeling as she caught up with Angel. Once in the elevator, pressing the first floor button, she looked at him. The nurse riding down with them seemed close, too close. Buffy kept painfully silent, trying to send comfort and happiness through her eyes. But Angel seemed not to notice: his dark eyes were in a different place… *A different time*

As the elevator doors slid open, Buffy threw a hasty smile at the nurse, and walked quickly with Angel towards the doors to the outside. The moment the night air hit them, Buffy reached a hand out and stopped Angel. Her eyes kind, yet anxious, she turned his face towards her own.

"Angel…" Seeing the hurt in his eyes, she trailed off. It was as if a part of her was writhing in pain, burning with the agony from within. At that hell she saw in his eyes, Buffy made a choice.

"I’m not going to butt in. Just help me." She stood on her tiptoes, planting a soft kiss on his lips. He looked at her, startled.

"Help me, Angel."

Angel turned his head, looking into the dark. Buffy could only imagine what memories haunted that vision.

After a moment, he leveled his gaze on the little blonde Slayer. "Let’s go."

The two strode off into the night, heading into town. "Let’s check the cemetery," Angel offered, his voice far away. "That’s where she met me and Giles; maybe it has significance."

Buffy shrugged. She still felt out of the loop on this job. "Sounds good to me." Jogging slowly, their shoes harmonizing on the pavement, Buffy kept her eyes open. Scanning the darkened trees and yards for any sign of the dark haired girl, she headed on autopilot to the cemetery. Angel kept up easily, looking along the street, moving swiftly and silently, his breathless non-panting joining the silence of the night.

As they headed past the all night convenience mart, Buffy came to a halt. "Angel!" she shouted, leaning towards the street. The folded piece of cream colored paper sat in the gutter, mingling with the few dried leaves of the last windfall.

"Litter in Sunnydale… unheard of…" Buffy muttered, more to herself then Angel. Unfolding the paper, staring at the words within, she turned her eyes to Angel.

"Could it...?"

The vampire had already turned, sprinting towards the doors of the mini mart. Buffy stayed on the street, looking at the paper, trying to find inspiration in its few words.

"The museum?"

Hearing footsteps, one hand flew instinctively to her jacket, feeling for the stake pressing comfortably there. But as Angel came back into sight, she relaxed. Slightly.

"The clerk said that someone like Kathryne came in a bit earlier, asking for directions."

"To the old museum?" Buffy asked, already knowing the answer.

With one nod, the two sped off into the night, heading in the direction of the abandoned building.

*****

The clamminess of the walls seemed to gnaw on her, pressing down on her skin as she walked slowly through the dimly lit corridor of the old museum. Kathryne’s eyes darted around, taking in the murmurs and crevices that made up the soggy hallway. *Ick… man, this guy needs some help decorating*

Seeing the stone slab ahead, Kathryne slowed, her heart pounding. Taking small steps forward, she approached the heavy door. Three feet away, she paused. *Go back now, girl. Get Angelus’ help. You can’t do this alone.*

But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

And at this point, Kathryne didn’t even know who "he" was.

Shaking her head slightly, she built up her resolve, and walked towards the door. But before she could knock, it swung open, revealing a candlelit room. Breathing deeply, she moved inside.

The sight of a thousand candles, or so it seemed, took her breath away. As she gazed at the walls, taking in the embroidered hangings, the delicate chandeliers, she wondered just who this Robius was. Who the man was behind the monster. Brushing her fingertips lightly over the dark polished table, she looked in the corners of the chamber. There was movement, shadowed and minimal, the shapes of mutants toiling back and forth barely visible in the flickering lights.

"Kathryne."

The voice, smooth as silk, rich as mellow wine, flowed over her, warming her insides even as her skin chilled. The girl turned, a lock of hair escaping it’s confines, brushing her cheek. Her deep eyes were wide, frightened.

He stood, bathed in firelight, next to the stone mantle. Long locks of purest gold brushed his shoulders, the face of a Grecian sculpture smiling at her with soft pink lips. He walked towards her slowly, his black trousers whispering in the air, feet seeming to glide over the carpet.

"I knew you’d come to me," Robius said softly, the words flowing off of his tongue. Kathryne stared not at his face, but at the ripples of his silk shirt. The glints of light from the flames danced on the pine green surface, creating little wells of hidden light.

"I…" Her voice failed, unable to reconcile what she knew of Robius’ thirst for the kill with this charming, gentle seeming man.

He chuckled, seeing her inner plight. Reaching forward, he grasped her hands in his own. Her fingers came willingly, unmoving on their own. She was transfixed by his shirt, his chest, the faint sprinkling of chest hair peeking below his neckline.

"Come now, my dear. We have business to attend to."

His words startling her out of her stupor, Kathryne glanced down. All fugue fell away as she saw what was holding her hands: wrinkled, devilish looking digits, their nails long and yellowed with age, the dust of a thousand years caked into their wrinkles. Whipping her head up, her eyes filled with terror, Kathryne found herself staring into the face of a vampire. A vampire so old his wrinkles were small and bunched, his eyes buried in beds of squirming pink flesh. He opened his mouth to laugh, revealing a bed of glistening fangs.

Kathryne shrieked, her heart nearly exploding in fear. Trying to yank her hands away, her feet twisted, giving way. As she was about to fall to the carpet, the demon’s strong hands gripped her shoulders. Yanking her to her feet, he pushed her head to the side, baring her neck.

"Thank you, girl." Laughing, he bared his fangs. "You’ve made my night."

He buried his mouth in her neck, sinking his teeth in deeply, letting her touched blood flow over his lips. He drank deeply, feeling the raw power of the elixir begin to work it’s magic in his veins. Sucking, draining the girl in his arms, his eyes began to glow.

Kathryne let out a whimper, a tear dropping from her eye to the floor.

Robius smiled against her flesh, enjoying the feel of her lightening body in his arms, the smell of her death flowing to his nostrils.

Suddenly, the smile contorted into a mask of pain, as an arrow slammed through his right shoulder. Snarling, he threw Kathryne’s nearly dry husk to the floor. Throwing his burning gaze in the direction which it had come, he growled, "Now that wasn’t nice."

"Aw, I’m hurt." Buffy, the Slayer, stood in the doorway, a crossbow on her hip.