It was late afternoon when Buffy awoke from a deep, surprisingly dreamless sleep. For the first time since she had become the Slayer, her subconscious had been free from the horrifying, sometimes prophetic, nightmares that plagued her slumber. Turning on her side, she looked around the unfamiliar bedroom. The small room, decorated in muted shades of tan and brown, was warmed considerably by the little bits and pieces of the Watcher's life scattered about. A photograph in an antique filigreed frame sat on the dresser. A small boy, flanked on either side by tall, stern-faced man and a beautiful, cold-eyed woman.

Buffy wondered if they were Giles' parents.

A tweed blazer thrown over a chairback, a stack of books as tall as a three-year old child, a forgotten teacup all gave Buffy valuable insight into the man who had offered his hospitality to her.

And refused her offer of repayment.

That surprised her. She knew that she wasn't as pretty as she used to be. It had been months, maybe years, since she had even painted her fingernails. And, the toll of being the Slayer had begun to show around her eyes. She was tired.

So, so tired.

Despite all that, Buffy knew she had a certain sexuality that attracted men, among other things, to her like flies to honey. Merrick had called her a bitch in heat one time, during one of his bad spells, as she had begun to think of them. He had hurt her pretty bad then and if it hadn't been for the fact that he was her Watcher and all she had in the world, she'd have killed him.

With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded, naked, to the bathroom. She had no time for self-reflection.

She didn't deserve the luxury.

"We found five bodies last night, all adult, thank God. We took them to the school and dumped them in the incinerator," Oz said as he took a healthy bite of his ham and cheese sandwich.

Giles nodded in approval. He handed Larry a plate and then joined them at the table. "It sounds as if their activity is in a lull. If we could take out Xander and Willow, maybe we could throw them into turmoil."

"Xander and Willow. Are they really that powerful?"

The three men turned to look at Buffy as she came down the stairs. She was dressed in a pair of black leggings and a tiny black tank top. Combat boots and a black windbreaker completed her outfit. Her blonde hair was fastened into a braid that fell halfway down her back.

"Buffy, did you sleep well?"

She took a seat next to Larry, nodding at the two young men curtly. "Yeah, thanks. So, what's their story?"

Giles set a plate with a sandwich and potato chips in front of Buffy, along with a glass of milk. She smiled faintly in thanks. "Alexander Harris and Willow Rosenberg were students at Sunnydale, good kids, bright, well-liked. They were best friends."

"Willow was my girlfriend."

Buffy looked at Oz in surprise. He had spoken so matter-of-fact that she almost missed the flash of pain in his hazel eyes.

"So, Giles said they were taken after the Harvest. What happened?"

No one spoke for a moment. Giles stared down into his teacup, then cleared his throat. "They were aware, as just about everyone was, that there was more to Sunnydale than met the eye. They assisted me on occasion with research; Willow was quite adept with computers."

Larry picked up the thread. "They were at the Bronze one night when a friend of Xander's, Jesse, took off with a really good-looking girl. Turns out she wasn't a girl at all, but a vampire named Darla. Xander was pretty hot-headed and he took off to rescue Jesse.

"The Master changed Xander, then sent him for Willow. He took them under his wing and made them the animals they are now."

Buffy sipped her milk and nodded. "Animals. Animals can be put down."

Oz's head whipped up and he stared at the Slayer. "It wasn't their fault."

She glanced at him. "No, but that doesn't matter now, does it? The Xander and Willow you knew and loved are gone. All that's left are the demons wearing their faces. The sooner you get used to that, the easier it will be for you to let them go."

Larry was on his feet, his broad, football-player's physique dwarfing Buffy's tiny body. "Just who the hell are you to come in here and stir things up? We have it under control!"

She stood up slowly, her jade-green eyes flinty. "I've been fighting vampires since I was fifteen years old. I watched them kill two dozen of my friends when I lived in LA and I watched them kill my parents and set fire to my house less than a year later. I had to put a wooden stake in my mother's heart when I found her feeding off of a five-year-old girl."

She advanced on a stricken Larry. "Don't ever tell me that you have things under control, because you will never have things under control! All we can do is fight and hopefully take a few of them out before they finally kill us. And don't ever think for a moment that it's going to end differently because it isn't!"

Silence fell over the group and Buffy sat back down. Oz stared at her as Giles walked back into the kitchen.

"Why do you do it then? Why do you bother?" Oz asked.

Buffy's expression was bitter. "Because someone has to," she whispered.

"Because God has forsaken us."

A half-hour after sunset, a soft knock at the door sent Buffy into instant battle mode. Giles picked up the ever-present crossbow and Oz and Larry hefted hand-carved stakes. Gliding to the door on silent feet, Giles opened the peephole door.

He sighed in relief and opened the door, lowering the deadly weapon in his hands. "Angel. I've been worried about you. Please, come in."

The vampire stepped past the Watcher and found himself face-to-face with Buffy. She glared at him with barely-disguised loathing and she lifted her own crossbow to point with unerring accuracy at his heart. He stopped short, catching an unnecessary breath. A quiver of longing swept through him as he faced the girl he had loved since he had first laid eyes on her in LA.

"Buffy."

"Vampire." She turned and stared at Giles. "What's he doing here? Have you lost your mind, inviting a monster into your home?"

Angel carefully hid the hurt that accompanied her vicious words. He nodded politely at Oz and Larry and stepped out of the aim of the Slayer's weapon. "I didn't realize you were back in town."

Buffy followed his movements with distrustful eyes. "What's it to you? Are you gonna go tell your friends?"

Angel opened his mouth to reply, but Giles cut him off. "Enough, both of you! Buffy, put that down and let us explain."

Slowly, she conceded. She relaxed only slightly, but didn't relinquish her hold on the crossbow. Angel sat down and looked her direction nervously.

"Angel is a vampire, that is true, but a hundred years ago. . ." Giles started.

"1898," Angel offered.

"Yes, well, 1898, he killed a young Gypsy girl and her clan, in vengeance, restored his soul."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Restored his soul? So what kind of punishment is that? They should've just cut his head off."

Angel pushed down the anger that was beginning to rise in him. As if she sensed it, Buffy smiled mockingly.

Giles sighed, perplexed by the tension flowing between Slayer and vampire. Something wasn't quite right. . .

"Um, well, Angel was. . . had been. . . quite cruel in his day. His own conscience was to be his punishment."

Buffy laughed, contemptuously. "Well, sucks to be you. Or not!"

"As you know, Buffy, Angel suffered because he dared to help us in our quest to rid Sunnydale of its infestation. The Master tortured him mercilessly," Giles said, surprised at Buffy's cruelty.

"Too bad."

"He's been an enormous help to us," Larry broke in.

Buffy finally sighed. "Look, whatever. You can be friends with Satan himself if it makes you happy. Let's just get one thing straight; you stay out of my way, I stay out of yours. If I find evidence that you're double-crossing these people, I'll hurt you so bad you'll wish those Gypsies hadn't been quite so forgiving."

Green eyes locked with brown ones. Angel nodded, fury emanating from his stiffened body. "Whatever you want, Slayer."

She blinked as his gaze seemed to pierce into her very soul and, to her horror, she felt a wave of heat spread from her thighs, all the way to her face. Her cheeks turned rosy and Angel smiled, taunting her.

He wondered if he told her he could smell her involuntary arousal if she would try to stake him right here.

Surprisingly, the thought raised his spirits.

With an unladylike snort, Buffy turned and flounced into the kitchen. Angel frowned when he saw how she favored her left leg, giving her a tiny limp. A memory bloomed, unbidden.

Buffy, young and sweet, surrounded by three of her friends, bouncing down the steps of Hemery High School. The early afternoon sunlight had turned her waist-length hair into a platinum halo; her golden skin was flushed with health.

Only fifteen, she was teetering on the edge of womanhood, brimming with vibrancy and hidden sexuality. Angel, protected by the dark-painted windows on the old car, had watched her as she had said goodbye to her friends and sat on the steps.

That was when Merrick had approached her for the first time and informed her that she was the Slayer.

And stole her innocence from her.

Now, as he stared at the bitter, battle-weary seventeen-year-old, he felt a self-hatred that went deeper than any he had ever known. It was his kind that had destroyed the beautiful child Buffy Summers had been once upon a time. Vampires, demons, horrendous creatures that didn't deserve to exist in the same world she lived in.

If it took him until the end of time, he would protect her, fight beside her, help her rid the world of evil.

And, when the time came to die for her, he would gladly plunge a stake into his own heart.

Buffy looked up and met his eyes. Angel wanted to tear his gaze from hers, afraid she would see the depth to which his love for her flowed. But, their eyes locked and Buffy's mutinous expression faded into surprise.

Angel smiled, sadly, and turned away, leaving the Slayer to stare at his broad back in shock.