DISCLAIMER : All Buffy : The Vampire Slayer and ANGEL characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox Studios. No copyright infringement intended, just a chance to share with my fellow fans and absolutely no money profit is gained on the part of the author.
SPOILERS: Prior to the Buffy episode 'The I in Team'.
RATING: PG-13.
SUMMARY : An injured Angel is a prisoner of the Initiative.

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BC : BEFORE CHILDREN by Brightbear
Chapter Three - Into the Lion's Den

Cordelia leapt on the vampire's back, clinging desperately. The vampire reached up to pull her off and while his hands were busy, Wesley staked him. As the vampire crumbled into dust, Cordelia fell straight through him onto the grass. Ever the gentleman, Wesley helped her to her feet. Wincing, Cordelia began to examine her clothes.
"I'd really be more concerned about those grazes than your latest fashions," said Wesley.
She stopped to glare at him before replying, "I'm trying to get vampire ashes out of my skirt. Thank god I thought to wear an old one."
"Ah," said Wesley irritably. "An old one. You mean you've only worn it twice?"
"Very funny."
"Yes, I thought so."

Cordelia looked around her, "We're not in the cemetery anymore. We better find Angel."
"Are you sure?"
"Why wouldn't we want to find Angel?" frowned Cordelia.
"No, I meant are you sure we're not in the cemetery,” snapped Wesley. “How can you tell? It's just more gardens."
"Well, the fact that the cemetery entrance is over there is a big pointer."
"Oh, right. Let's go, then, shall we?"

Wesley set off with Cordelia lagging behind.
"Will you hurry up?" asked Wesley, stopping.
Cordelia was about to retort when there was a rumbling sound from the cemetery.
"What was that?" asked Cordelia.
"Sounded like an explosion."
"Angel!"

Wesley reached the cemetery gates first. He bounced off the ornate iron, finding it shut and locked. He recovered with minimal embarrassment and was already half way over the fence before Cordelia and her high heels caught up to him. Gingerly, she followed his lead. Wesley reached the bottom of the fence and in the act of springing to the ground, got his foot caught in between the bars. He tumbled headfirst onto the grass, his foot still wedged firmly in the fence. Cordelia tumbled to the ground a couple of inches in front of him and scrambled to her feet painfully.

In the distance, there was more sound. Not distinct enough to be identifiable but loud enough to be worrisome.
"What kind of demon makes that noise?" asked Cordelia, tugging Wesley's foot free.
"None I've ever seen... or heard."

They hurried to the source of the sound. The sound of voices gave them ample warning to duck behind a tombstone before the soldiers saw them. Wesley and Cordelia flattened their backs against it, treading on the flowers that some family member had left.
"Where's Angel at a time like this?" asked Cordelia.
She fell silent as more soldiers passed by.
Wesley shrugged, "Buffy said the commandos use infa-red detectors. That makes them a threat to Angel. The smart thing would be for him to disappear as soon as they arrived."
"Angel bail on us?" asked Cordelia. "I don't think so. What if the GI Joes have him?"

Wesley peered around the edge of the tombstone. The soldiers were dragging dead or unconscious Atashak demons into a military issue truck.
"This is not an ideal situation...," began Wesley.
"No kidding."
"... but I think we have to assume Angel has escaped by himself. We should return to the car."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
Ignoring her objections, Wesley darted stealthily to the next tombstone.

Left alone, Cordelia panicked.
"Wesley!" she hissed. "Come back!"
She stifled her next protest as soldiers walked past them. After the soldiers had moved on, he motioned for Cordelia to join him.
Cordelia shook her head, "No!"
"Come on," he hissed back.
Shaking her head in frustration and squeezing her eyes shut, Cordelia dived between the tombstones. With the soldiers looking the other way, Wesley and Cordelia fled the cemetery.

One of the soldiers registered the sound of high heels on concrete but there was nothing to see and he went to report it to his superior officer. Wesley boosted Cordelia up the fence, letting her find her own way to the ground on the other side. Wesley followed, a little more dignified than last time.

They didn't glance behind them once in the sprint to the virtually deserted car park. Wesley slumped against the side of the convertible. Cordelia stopped and looked around them. There was no Angel waiting for them, there weren't even any other cars in the lot.
"This is just great. We're in the middle of a dark cemetery..." began Cordelia.
"At the outskirts of, actually."
"Wesley, shut up."

***

Dr Walsh paused in mid-step to watch her boys receiving special instructions from Dr Inggelman. She assumed a successful mission, she expected no less from anyone under her command. She noticed again Riley's absence but Dr Inggelman had control over assignments. Riley was better served where he was, keeping an eye on the unpredictable Slayer. Riley's presence in the Initiative could be spared until they were more sure of the Slayer's loyalties. For the moment, Dr Walsh had other duties to attend to. She ran her security card through the slot in the wall and keyed in her personal code. The door permitted access to the secured research area.

Full of research labs and experiments, it was a place for operating without being in full view of the entire Initiative. It was strictly on a need-to-know basis. The decision to place hostile 23 in here was due partly to the fact that it's injuries were severe. Mainly, it was because the pit (as they called their experimental open surgery theatre) was already filled to capacity.

The Initiative had been lucky this time. Hostile 23 had regained consciousness after a couple of hours. With no pulse or measurable brain activity, vampires were difficult to monitor when they were unconscious or in comas. Dr Walsh had performed several experiments but she had yet to find a formula they could inject intravenously.

Flipping through the relevant file, Dr Walsh entered the make-shift hospital room. The room was regimental in it's design, a carbon copy of every single other room in the secured area. The bed was just as ordinary, nothing more than necessary. Some of the other scientists argued that the restraints tying an unconscious Hostile 23 to the bed was excessive but Dr Walsh believed in taking precautions.
"How are we today?" asked Dr Walsh, deliberately loud.
The hostile's eyes flickered open but he made no sign he'd heard her.

Dr Walsh took a few slow, measured steps forward to make sure he could see her.
"I have some questions I'd like to ask you," she said clearly.
The hostile turned his head to gaze at her, as if he hadn't registered the question. Dr Walsh was tempted to believe he didn't understand and to turn and walk out but his eyes gave him away. He was too focused on her, as if listening. Dr Walsh concealed her frustration as any good professional and walked even closer to the bed. She leaned over him, meeting his penetrating gaze.
"Do you not speak English or are you deliberately trying to irritate me?"
The stare wavered a bit but there was no response.

Dr Walsh sighed inwardly and turned away from him.
"By my logic," began a quavering voice.
Dr Walsh smothered a triumphant smile before turning to face the hostile.
"Words are often more likely to offend than silence," he finished.
"Debatable, " said Dr Walsh, her eyebrow raised.
"But known to work in some situations," said the hostile.

"At least we know you can communicate," said Dr Walsh, graciously giving ground.
"I have been known to, from time to time."
Dr Walsh folded her arms, "I've been hearing a lot about you."
"Really?" asked the hostile, bored.
"Among other things, you're supposed to be a demon hunter."
The hostile's eyes focused on her, "That's true."

Dr Walsh couldn't help her reaction - her eyebrow raised itself.
"You hunt demons?"
"Yes, that would tend to go with being a demon hunter."
"You are a demon yourself."
With a jerk the hostile raised his head from the pillow, "Not by choice."
Dr Walsh snapped back from the sudden outburst but the effort seemed to have exhausted him and he flopped back onto the pillow, eyes closed.

She leant forward and checked the restraints holding him to the bed.
"Since we're being so chatty, what do you do?" he whispered, eyes still closed.
Dr Walsh straightened up, defensive again, "I stop demons being dangerous."
"Demons like me?"
"Yes, demons like you."

As the strength returned to the hostile's voice, so did Dr Walsh's confidence.
"Why were you following Agent Millar?" she asked, her voice taking on a cold edge.
"Who?"
"Agent Graham Millar. You saved him from the Kuria demon and you later threatened him in an alleyway."
The hostile opened his eyes and turned to her, his expression confused, "Kuria demon? I don't think I know that type."

Dr Walsh bit back the urge to say what came into her head first. She straightened up before continuing.
"This one you'd remember - black, furry, four-legged like a canine. One of them caught you in the stomach with an axe."
"You mean an Atashak demon?" asked the hostile. "I saved a commando from one of those."
"Atashak demon?" asked Dr Walsh, pausing.
"That's what it's called," explained the hostile, hiding his amusement badly. "I can't believe you renamed it."

"Atashak, Kuria, whatever. Why were you following Agent Millar?"
"I wasn't. It was co-incidence. He has a habit of being a lone target when I'm about."
"Yes. He also has a certain naiveness which I don't appreciate you taking advantage of."
"Really?" asked the hostile sarcastically.
"Really," answered Dr Walsh, not used to being mocked.
"Lucky him."

"I am very serious," said Dr Walsh. "I'm prepared to go to any lengths necessary to protect my boys."
"From me?"
"That would be the general idea."
"I'm flattered," he said dryly. "I hope your boys are... worth this."
If possible, he seemed to have gone even paler, his eyes unfocused and he sunk back into the pillow.
"Dizzy?" inquired Dr Walsh.
"What?" he asked distantly.
"Are you dizzy?" she repeated.
"Hell no," he said sarcastically. "Happens all the time."
Dr Walsh had to strain to hear him, his voice getting weaker.

***

Buffy's voice was lost in the smoke. Willow and Tara continued to chant, Willow giving Buffy an odd look. Buffy waved hello weakly at her and picked her way through the herbs and scented candles to her bedside table. She grabbed her jacket and made her way back to the door. Buffy waved at the two witches again before sneaking out of their dorm room. Riley was waiting in the hall. Smoke wafted to his nose before Buffy managed to shut the door again. She re-plugged up the gaps around the door, with the wet towels. The smoke stopped curling up to the ceiling.

Riley coughed, "What are they doing in there? They could cause a fire."
"They're doing a spell," shrugged Buffy. "Trust me, they're safe and they probably wouldn't appreciate the disturbance."
She wrapped her jacket loosely around her shoulders.
"You're going to be late for class if you don't hurry," said Riley, glancing at his watch.
"Like that's a big loss," smiled Buffy.

They began to walk down the hall but they hadn't gone more than a metre when the fire exit burst open and Cordelia and Wesley staggered into the building. They didn't seem to notice that they had set off the fire alarm. Students instantly flooded the hall and Buffy could just hear Willow swearing about the interruption. Cordelia and Wesley managed to wade through the sudden crowd to reach Buffy and Riley.

"Are you guys okay?" asked Buffy, concerned. "What happened?"
Both Cordelia's elbows were grazed and she was generally a mess. Wesley was covered in twigs and vampire ashes.
"We have a problem," said Cordelia. "It's about Angel."
Buffy froze, all thoughts of class evaporating.

"What's going on?" asked Willow irritably, emerging from the dorm room she shared with Buffy.
Tara peered tentatively over her shoulder.
"Angel?" repeated Buffy.
"I think we need your help," said Wesley.

"You want me to round up Giles and Xander?" asked Willow.
When Buffy didn't answer, Cordelia nodded to Willow.

Willow turned to Tara, "Tara, we're going to have to..."
"Cut the day short? It's okay," smiled Tara, understanding.
Tara and Willow disappeared back into the dorm room.
"I wouldn't ask, except it is an emergency - can I borrow some clothes?" asked Cordelia, looking at her trashed outfit in dismay. "I know your wardrobe will only be marginally better but..."
Buffy nodded and pointed absent-mindedly to her dorm room. Cordelia nodded in thanks and limped in that direction. Wesley smiled uncomfortably at Riley. Riley smiled back and turned to Buffy.
"Who's Angel?"
Buffy's expression was akin to a cow looking at an oncoming train.

***

Dr Walsh leant over the railing that lined the top of the Pit.
"Dr Inggelman!" she shouted.
Dr Inggelman looked up from instructing one of his aides and nodded. Dr Walsh moved back to her workstation to wait for him. He appeared by her side a minute later.
"Doctor?" he asked. "What is it?"
"I wanted to talk to you about hostile 23."
"Our infamously friendly vampire, what about him?" asked Dr Inggelman. "Have you made a decision yet? Do you want to try inserting an implant?"

"No... not yet, anyway," said Dr Walsh slowly. "I want to know what he's been doing. I talked to him just now."
"What did you talk about?"
"Things... mostly threats, actually. I wonder if there was anything abnormal about him? Anything I hadn't already heard?"
"As if the reports of Agent Millar and C Team weren't abnormal enough?" Dr Inggelman smiled thinly. "His recovery rate is as expected from a vampire but there is one abnormality. Possibly a contaminated sample, I haven't had time to follow it up, yet."

"What?"
"In vampires we have the Campbell effect - which is all the signs of dead blood cells but none of the symptoms they usually cause. In hostile 23, not all the cells are dead."
"Impossible," exclaimed Dr Walsh. "Part of vampire physiology depends on the Campbell effect in the blood. There isn't... there isn't any blood flow is there?"
"No," said Dr Inggelman quickly. "And it's not all his blood, just a small portion. It could be part of the healing process, some kind of antibody or a by product of whatever it is he usually feeds on."

Dr Walsh bit her lip and looked around, worried someone had overheard them.
"What he usually feeds on? I think it's time we found out," she said, releasing her lip. "I want his stomach pumped. The sooner, the better."
"Are you sure?" asked Dr Inggelman. "It's going to be messy and it'll make him aggressive."
"Can you think of a better way to find out what he usually feeds on?" asked Dr Walsh.
Dr Inggelman conceded her point, “Very well, I'll take care of it."
"Good."

***

"Angel! Angel, where are you?" Cordelia called.
The search party had been sent out now that Angel had been missing for two entire days. Xander bumped into her from behind.
"Hey, watch it, moron," she snapped.
"Sorry, oh, how could I be so shallow as to violate your personal space?" he asked sarcastically.
"Ha, I bet you did that on purpose..."

"Guys?" asked Willow tentatively. "Can we focus here? You know, missing Buffy boyfriend?"
"Ex-boyfriend," Riley corrected from somewhere to the left.
"Sorry, I meant to say ex," said Willow.

"Hey, Angel is that... eeek!" screeched Tara, from somewhere behind Willow.
"Tara?" called Willow. "Tara, are you alright?"
"Um, yeah, i-i-it was just a bunny rabbit. Sort of, um, surprised me," answered Tara sheepishly.
"A bunny?" asked Anya nervously. "Where did it go?

She flashed her torch around the bushes in search of the offending rabbit. Xander was reminded of a certain Halloween where Anya had admitted to a fear of such creatures. This looked like a job for the boyfriend.
"It's probably gone by now. More afraid of you than you were of it," said Xander, wrapping an arm around Anya's shoulder.

The two began to talk in whispers as they moved away from the others. A couple of seconds later, there was a scream.
"What is it?" yelled Cordelia.
Anya's emotionless voice drifted back to them, "Come on, Xander. It's just a rat. I'm not afraid of rats... I mean, it's not even anything like a bunny rabbit."

Cordelia rolled her eyes and walked on.
Wesley's voice came from just out of sight, "I know Angel can look after himself, I just hope he's all right."
"Now is not exactly the best time for him to be visiting Sunnydale," replied Buffy.
"Angel has been known to disappear sometimes, yes?" asked Giles.
"He wouldn't leave Cordelia and Wesley out in the open," said Buffy. "Angel could have been involved with the Atashak demons... or he could have run into the Initiative."
"It looked as if some kind of battle went on there," admitted Wesley. "But I didn't see Angel, just Atashak demons."
"Maybe I should ask Professor Walsh," suggested Riley.
"I don't think so," disagreed Buffy quickly. "I mean, Angel is... I don't think he would get on with Professor Walsh. In fact, the further we keep Angel away from the Initiative the better."

***

"Good morning," said Dr Walsh, entering the research lab with Dr Inggelman on her heels.
Angel didn't open his eyes, "How are your boys this morning?"
Dr Walsh heard the sarcasm in the remark but chose to ignore it, "They are just fine."
"That's good to hear," he said, sounding sincere but then his tone changed. "I would say it's nice to see you except we both know that's not true. And I don't think I can stomach lies this early in the morning."
Dr Walsh noted the rather pointed reference to the stomach pump he'd recently experienced. By all accounts, a thoroughly unpleasant procedure.

"Well, you'll be glad to hear it wasn't totally pointless. We found what we were looking for," she said.
"And what was that?" asked Angel.
"Your stomach contents consists entirely of pigs' blood - not human..." began Dr Walsh, reading off her clipboard.
Angel's eyes opened and he gazed at her incredulously, "I could have told you that!"

"Maybe," said Dr Walsh. "But we had no way of telling whether or not you were lying."
"At any rate," interrupted Dr Inggelman. "We still don't know for sure."
"What do you mean?" asked Angel.
"All we know is that you haven't fed on human blood for at least the last couple of days," said Dr Inggelman. "In that time, most of the blood you'd had before coming into our possession would have been digested. You could have made sure that was what we'd find... "

Angel's eyes narrowed and Dr Walsh intervened with a question, "Assuming you do feed on pigs' blood, why make that choice?"
"Well, hypothetically speaking, someone else might have made that choice for me," said Angel levelly.
"Why would they do that?" asked Dr Walsh.
"I might have pissed them off," answered Angel curtly.

Dr Inggelman looked at Angel warily, the way a man with a hangover regards a beer. Dr Walsh could tell Dr Inggelman was rapidly losing interest in the conversation.
"Hypothetically speaking," said Dr Walsh, ignoring the glares Angel and Dr Inggelman were exchanging. "Who would that someone be?"
"Romani."
At Dr Walsh's slight pause, he added, "Gypsies."

"I see," said Dr Inggelman. "You want us to believe that someone completely ordinary... just in off the street, managed to do what we've been trying..."
"I thought this was hypothetical," Angel interrupted him coolly.
"What exactly did these gypsies do, hypothetically?" asked Dr Walsh quickly.
Angel was quiet for a minute before answering, "A curse."
"Some voodoo man gave you bad luck?" asked Dr Inggelman, amused.
"Dr Inggelman, could you give me a minute alone please?" asked Dr Walsh firmly, not taking her eyes from Angel.

Dr Inggelman stopped mid-tirade, clearly shocked, but left the room and amazingly managed to restrain himself from slamming the door. Dr Walsh turned back to Angel who was regarding her suspiciously.
"Could you be more specific?" asked Dr Walsh, sounding polite and friendly.
"Look," said Angel. "Professionals like you aren't going to believe what I believe but seeing as the people who did this to me are long dead, you won't be getting a labelled diagram any time soon."
"Fair enough," said Dr Walsh. "You can't say for sure what they did but I'm sure you believe something happened?"
"They gave me a human soul. I can't... I tried but I can't kill in cold blood without my conscience getting the better of me."
Angel spoke as if it were an old tale and he had better things to be doing. There was something final in his tone.
"Thankyou, it's been interesting talking to you," she said politely.
"Ha!"

Dr Inggelman was waiting for her outside in the corridor.
"Well?" he asked bitterly. "I hope my departure was useful."
"The story seems a little convoluted, I'll agree, but I think someone did affect him. I'm just not sure what they did... or how long ago," said Dr Walsh. "It could have been a simple case of mental reconditioning or some brand of behaviour modification. If these creatures have been around as long as they claim to have been, there's no reason that someone else shouldn't have noticed and have taken steps."

"You think he really doesn't feed on humans?" asked Dr Inggelman.
"Hard to tell," said Dr Walsh, shaking her head. "From the way he speaks, I'd be inclined to believe him but it may be an elaborate act. I doubt he knows much about the detail of what they did to him so I doubt he'll be able to help us find them. He may actually be trustworthy."
"Are you serious? Even if you're completely convinced, are you willing to risk releasing him where he could harm the public?"
"I didn't say that. I'll wait before I have to make that decision."

***

Buffy dumped her newly torn sweater into the wicker basket at the bottom of her closet. She was about to close the door again when something caught her eye. Hanging at the back, behind most of her clothes was a black leather jacket. A lump caught in her throat as she remembered who had given her that jacket. She couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch it. To remember the smell and feel of...

She turned her back on the closet, dismissing painful thoughts. She was in the act of walking towards the door when an idea struck her. She leant across her bed to reach her bedside table. A few seconds of rummaging around in the drawer was all it took to find what she was looking for.

***

Dr Moore was jabbing helplessly at the control panel to one of the labs in the secured area. Dr Walsh sighed and walked over to her.
"Dr Moore," she said.
Dr Moore, an inexperienced but qualified scientist, had a history of getting lost.
"Dr Moore," said Dr Walsh. "That's not the way out."
"Sorry, doctor," Dr Moore blushed.
Dr Walsh pointed to the end of the corridor, "Down there, turn left. Sixth door on your right."

Dr Moore nodded, turning even redder, and walked stiffly down the corridor. Dr Walsh shook her head, worrying that if Dr Moore didn't become more professional, Dr Inggelman might fire her. If that happened, Dr Walsh would fight to just have her reassigned elsewhere. Despite her faults, Dr Moore had the brains and ability as a surgeon. It would be a terrible waste of talent. Dr Walsh was barely down the corridor when muttering became audible from behind one of the locked doors. Dr Walsh sighed, again.

She turned on her heel and went to the source of the noise. She slid her key card through the slot and pushed the door open without noticing which room it was.
"Dr Moore...," she began.
She stopped when she realised Dr Moore was not in the room. The muttering was coming from hostile 23. He was asleep but muttering to himself and turning about as much as he could while tied to the bed. Most of it wasn't understandable but she clearly caught the words "mustn't" and "no" repeatedly.

She approached the bed, looking him up and down. She placed her hand across his forehead to gauge his temperature but he woke at the touch of her fingertips. It took a few seconds for his eyes to focus and he was breathing heavily. Dr Walsh always found that amusing - vampires had no need to breathe at all but due to some ingrained memory from when they were alive, they often went through the motions anyway.

Swallowing hard, hostile 23 took time to compose himself.
When he had, he looked up at Dr Walsh and said simply, "Nightmare."
Dr Walsh's expression remained neutral and she turned to go.
"Thanks," he said.
Dr Walsh walked out of the room as if she hadn't heard him.

***

"Buffy, don't lose hope," said Riley, putting his hand over hers.
When she didn't respond, Riley wondered if in the din of the cafeteria, she hadn't heard him. He was about to repeat himself when Buffy shrugged.
"Buffy, I'm sure he's fine. Give him another day or two," Riley said gently. "He's just forgotten to call you."
"Not much chance of that, really."
"You're sure there's no reason he wouldn't... you know, not want to be found?"

Buffy looked up from her untouched food to look at Riley with exhausted eyes.
"What is there for him to get away from? That's why he went to Los Angeles," she said.
"Buffy, come on," said Riley, feeling Buffy's lethargy begin to affect him. "Let me get the whole Initiative behind us. If they can't find him, no one can."
"No. You can't bring the Initiative into this," said Buffy quickly.

Riley sighed in defeat and began to play with the rest of his lunch. Buffy pushed her plate away.
"Buffy?"
"I'm not really that hungry."
"Are you sure?" asked Riley.
She nodded, "I'm going to go photocopy this... maybe someone will recognise him."
"Okay," said Riley.

Riley watched as Buffy shuffled out of the cafeteria, taking the photograph she'd refused to show him, and leaving her food behind her. Riley left his fork on his plate, his appetite leaving with her. He spotted Forrest and Graham out of the corner of his eye. The three friends hadn't eaten lunch together in a while, in fact, hadn't done anything together in a while. He picked up his tray of food and walked over to them.

"Hi guys. Mind if I sit down?" he asked cheerfully.
"It's a free country," replied Forrest tensely.
"Sit down, Riley," said Graham, smiling.
"Where the hell you been, man?" asked Forrest. "You haven't been downstairs in ages."
"Well... I've been busy but they haven't paged me anyway," said Riley.

"They haven't paged you? Are you kidding? It's been the god damn rush hour down there, all week!" said Forrest. "You're always the first one they call."
Riley shrugged, "Maybe my pager is broken."
"Maybe they're just trying to give other guys a chance to be team leader?" suggested Graham.
Forrest glared at Graham even as he turned to answer Riley.
"You should go down and ask the Professor," said Forrest.
"It's true you haven't been around much, lately, Riley," said Graham. "Though at the moment, you look as though you could use the sleep."

Riley yawned, "I've sort of had other things on my mind."
Forrest rolled his eyes and turned to Graham, "Three guesses what that boy is thinking with."
Riley tried to smother a smile before defending himself.
"It's not like that Forrest," said Riley. "A friend of Buffy's has disappeared and we've been out searching for him."

"Him?" asked Forrest, pointedly.
"Missing?" asked Graham, ignoring Forrest's jibe. "Any idea what happened to him? Maybe we can help?"
"No, Buffy doesn't want the Initiative in on this," said Riley. "Apparently, he was some kind of demon hunter and she thought the Professor wouldn't get on with him."
"A demon hunter?" asked Forrest, thinking about their recent encounter with just such a person.

"Yeah," said Riley. "What, you think we're the only ones who hunt demons? I used to think so but not since I met Buffy. There's an incredible world out there."
"She told the police?" asked Graham.
"No but if it was a demon that got him, the police wouldn't be much help," said Riley. "She's pretty upset about it, actually. We were up all night searching. I practically had to drag Buffy back to her dorm room."
"I hope he turns up," said Graham.

"She said he was a demon hunter?" said Forrest.
"Yeah," said Riley.
"Is he human?"
Riley frowned, "Why wouldn't he be? He's sort of... Buffy's ex-boyfriend. He's human... What am I doing, I didn't come over to dump on you guys. Enough about me, how've you been?"

"We've been doing alright," said Forrest. "You heard about Alan?"
"Yeah," said Riley. "When's the funeral?"
"Tomorrow," said Graham. "They would have had it earlier but they had trouble piecing him back together."
"Sounds nasty," said Riley. "What did it?"
"Werewolf but don't worry, we got it."
"You doing anything tonight?" asked Forrest. "Cause some of the guys are going down to the Bronze."
"No, I think I should stay with Buffy... unless I could bring her along, she could do with some cheering up."

"She might not like sharing you with the rest of us," said Forrest bitterly.
"No, it's cool, Riley," said Graham, ever the peace keeper. "Bring her if you need to."
"Thanks, I will," smiled Riley. "Be nice to hang with you guys again."
Their beepers went off. All three checked them almost by habit. Riley paused as he realised his was dormant.

Forrest and Graham turned theirs off, "We got to go, mother wants us."
"Do you want me to come?" asked Riley.
"No man, we got it," said Graham.
"We'll check with the Professor," added Forrest. "About your pager, I mean."
"Alright, I'll see you tonight then," Riley called, as Forrest and Graham cut through the cafeteria queues on their way out.

He looked around at the empty table and his friends' abandoned food trays, "So much for lunch."
Riley collected all three food trays and returned them to the front counter. With nothing urgent to do, he decided that he'd better check on Buffy.

He found Buffy standing in the copy room, leaning against the machine with her eyes closed as the machine churned out it's copies. Riley watched as the completed photocopies piled up in the tray. One slid across the top of the pile and floated towards the floor. Riley caught it before it landed, Buffy opening her eyes at the rustle of paper.

"Hi," she said.
"Hi," he said.
Riley looked at the copies. Missing was stamped at the top in a lopsided print above a photograph and Buffy's contact details. Riley knew now why Buffy had been reluctant to show the photograph. It was a professionally done photograph, the kind done at high school proms. The picture was of an unfamiliar man in a tuxedo.

The other half of the photo had been covered by something but Riley could guess what was in the original. He could still see a thin pair of tanned arms arranged around the man's waist and pink edging by his feet. A tanned woman in a pink dress had been covered in the photograph. Buffy. He hated Angel already.

"Riley?"
"You're using your prom photo?"
"He's... camera shy. It's the only one I have."
At her expression, Riley suppressed his jealousy and took Buffy's hand in his.
"You know," he began. "Some of my friends are going to the Bronze tonight. I think we should join them."

"I don't know. I should stay where..." began Buffy.
"Come on, Buffy. You need cheering up, time to relax," said Riley. "Willow can call you if anything happens. Let me look after you? Please?"
Buffy didn't quite know how to answer when confronted with Riley's expression.
She sighed, "Alright. If it'll make you happy."
"It will."

***

"And how are your boys today, Dr?" asked Angel as Dr Walsh came into the cell.
"They're doing just fine, thankyou," she answered, coming to stand by the foot of the bed.
"So, decided what you're going to do with me, yet?" continued Angel in a conversational tone.
Dr Walsh paused, "How much do you know about our organisation?"
"The Initiative?" asked Angel.
He was satisfied by the look of surprise on her face.

He shrugged, "Not much. Bunch of government-funded, demon-hunter wannabes."
"Wannabes?" asked Dr Walsh harshly. "And I suppose you're the real thing?"
Angel smiled, "Sorry, personal prejudices getting in the way there. You insulted a lot of people by being successful. There are people who have devoted their entire lives to this business and you scare the hell out of the demon population in a matter of months."
"I'm not going to apologise for being successful," said Dr Walsh.
"Good," said Angel.

Dr Walsh sighed, "Do these conversations have to be hostile?"
"You tell me," said Angel.
"I will tell you. We've done some research, asked around. We haven't found anything to contradict your stories. In fact, you received a glowing endorsement from a bartender we talked to."
Angel frowned, "Bartender? Which bartender?"
Dr Walsh flipped through the sheets of paper on her clipboard before answering, "William Alston."

Angel lifted his head off the pillow to gaze at her, "Willy the snitch?"
Dr Walsh smiled at his obvious shock, "He also warned us not to mess with you, seeing that all the demons that did got... mushed, I think was the word he used."
Angel dropped his head back onto the pillow, "Sounds like Willy to me."

Dr Walsh sat on the edge of the bed, "The point is, I think we might be able to help each other."
"How?" asked Angel suspiciously.
"We're not quite prepared to let you walk out of here just yet but at the same time, you need time to recover from your injuries. There's no reason we can't help each other in the meantime. What I'm proposing is information in exchange for freedom of movement."

"I'm listening," said Angel, slightly less suspicious.
"We let you out of the bed but not out of the room in exchange for information. Depending on how co-operative you are, we'll consider letting you out of the room as long as you remain within the confines of this complex."
Angel bit his lip, considering his options.

Dr Walsh looked him directly in the eye, "If you are truly a demon hunter, you'll know that some of the information you give us will save lives."
Angel shook his head in resignation, "Why not? It's not like I've got much else to do."

TO BE CONTINUED...