Different Roads

Author: Nina

Disclaimer: None of the characters or concepts are mine. They all belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Century Fox, UPN, WB, et al. I'm just borrowing them. No infringement is intended and no profit is being made. Due to the nature of the challenge, dialogue from the shows will be copiously borrowed and drunkenly interwoven with that of my own creation. All hail the M.E. crack writing staff :o)

Rating: R

Spoilers: Since this is AU with at least one mandatory ep. Rewrite, everything will be fair game.

Summary: Fair warning: This is a response to a B/A challenge. If B/A is not something you enjoy reading, you may want to skip this one.

Complete Challenge Details from Jec/Lynn:

Mandatory:

-Season 4 and up rewrites. Just a couple of eps. from each season. But you have to have the ep. "Where the Wild things are" I just thought that episode was funny.

-Angel is super strong, but it's natural strength and not drug induced from the Initiative vitamin cocktail

-Angel ranking just as high as Riley

-Don't give Angel a gay code name like Riley's

-No Cordelia and Angel attraction

-Don't make Angel doing that Vamp whoring thing like Riley did.

-Making Angel either a TA or just another student

-Tara being a friend to Willow and nothing more...

Optional:

-Xander singing one of those funny girl power songs (Not Spice Girls yuck) something like "Bootylicious"

-Everybody at one of the get-togethers having a sing-along to an oldie song everybody knows (Giles playing the guitar)

-Joyce dying

-The gang playing a football game; distraction ensues

-As an excuse for a break from the constant need to have sex, Xander tells Anya he has a headache

-Buffy calls Angel her big teddy bear

-Piggyback rides

-Something the gang would never expect to hear from Willow

Lynn also requested that there be no 'mission to Belize style' departure for any of the major characters/love interests and that Riley not be written as a complete jacka@@...

Distribution: FF.net and several groups. If anyone wants it, let me know where you'd like to take it.

Feedback: This is my first BtVS story and the first fan fic I ever started, so comments and constructive criticism are appreciated.

*Whew* Ready for the story now?

Chapter One: A Typical Night, Sunnydale Style

Pacing restlessly around the cemetery, Buffy glanced at Willow before returning her gaze to the grave behind her friend.

"Anything?" she asked.

Looking up from her perch on the ground, Willow studied her best friend and sighed before turning her gaze back to the stack of papers in her lap.

"Ah! Here: 'Introduction to the Modern Novel.' "A survey study of twentieth century novelists." Open to freshmen, you might like that."

"Introduction to the Modern Novel?" Buffy sighed heavily. "I'm guessing I'd probably have to read the modern novel."

"Um, maybe more than one," Willow replied.

"I like books. I just don't want to take on too much. Do they have an introduction to the modern blurb?"

"Oh! Short story."

"Well, that's good,"

"Oh, no. It conflicts with Psych!"

"Maybe I shouldn't take Psych."

"You gotta. I-It's fun, a-and you can use it as your science requirement. Anyway, Professor Walsh is supposed to be great. She's like, world-renowned."

"How do you get to be renowned? I mean, like, do you have to be 'nowned' first?"

"Yes, first there's the painful 'nowning' process. Wait! 'Images of Pop Culture.' This is good. T-They watch movies, T-TV shows, even commercials."

"For credit?"

"Heh. Isn't college cool?"

"How'd I miss that one?" Buffy wondered aloud as she walked over to sit beside her.

"Well, you did sort of wait till the last minute with your course selection."

"Sorry, 'Miss I-chose-my-major-in-playgroup.'"

"That's an exaggeration. I just, you know, think it's good to be prepared. Don't want to be caught unawares."

"Well, I- I've been busy! It's been a very slay-heavy summer. I just haven't had a whole lot of time to think about life at UC Sunnydale."

"And you've been avoiding."

"Right, and I've been avoi-Huh?" Stopping mid-sentence, she turned to stare at Willow in confusion. Scrambling back to her feet she challenged, "What do you mean, I've been avoiding?"

"Well, it's pretty clear you've been avoiding. Anytime any of us brings up college, you change the subject!" She defended, also rising to her feet. "And, and the summer hasn't been so slay heavy that we haven't had time for fun. We've been to the beach, to LA, and we still managed to go Bronzing every week! If you'd wanted to, Buffy, you could have found time to pick out the courses you wanted." Willow finished in a rush.

For a tense moment, the two friends just stared at one another. With a sigh of defeat, Buffy dropped her gaze and wandered over to perch on a headstone.

"You're right. I, I guess I have been avoiding, Will."

"But, Buffy, why? Don't you think it's exciting? These are uncharted waters!" Willow chirped.

Raising an eyebrow at her enthusiastic friend, Buffy responded, "That's kind of the problem, Will. The whole 'uncharted waters' bit."

"Buffy, weren't you the one who told me her philosophy was 'Life is short' a-and 'why waste time worrying, seize the moment?' Is this all ringing any bells?" Willow demanded.

Buffy ducked her head sheepishly, but Willow charged ahead. "That was you, Buffy! We were at the Bronze after your first day at Sunnydale High! You made me believe that."

"Things are different now, Will! Even though I didn't think so at the time, things, well, they were pretty simple then."

Exasperated, Willow interrupted, "Of course things are different now, Buffy! You can't just expect things to stay the same. Everything changes, but change doesn't have to be bad!"

"Um, Willow. Let's look back for just a moment, shall we? Let's look at the changes I've been through. I went from being a normal 15-year-old girl to being the Slayer. Okay, sure, there are some perks that come with the whole Slayer package, like super-strength and increased healing, but on the whole? I had to give up almost everything normal in my life, cheerleading, friends, boyfriend, so that I could go out every night and fight monsters! Not so much a change for the good, Will."

When she saw that Willow was about to interrupt, Buffy held up a hand to stop her. "No, don't get me wrong--I'm okay with being the Slayer, now. Like Giles told me once, I've had to accept my destiny. And I have, really but as far as changes go? Still gonna have to keep that in the 'not of the good' category." Taking a breath she continued, "What next? Ah, yes. Mom and Dad get a divorce. Mom and I move. To Sunnydale. The HellMouth. I left behind everything and everyone I'd ever known-not to mention Neiman Marcus and all those other fabulous stores- to move to the what has to be the most dangerous place on earth for a Slayer to live! I mean, LA was bad, there were a lot of vamps there, but it wasn't even a drop in the bucket compared to this!"

She looked at her friend and smiled, "Of course, I did get you, Giles, and Xander out of the deal, so that does kinda make up for it. Skipping ahead, there was that whole 'death' thing, which led to the Chosen Two. That was actually pretty cool for a while-right up until I got Kendra killed and got charged with her murder. Then, my mom, found out that I was the Slayer and kicked me out. I had to stop the world from being sucked into hell by a demon that was resurrected by someone who was a friend of ours! Oh, and let's not forget that I had to kill him to do it! Hmm, I'm sure there's more."

At this point Willow interjected, "Okay, okay! Buffy, I get it. You're right; you have had a lot of changes already in your life, and not, not all of them have been good. Some of them have really sucked, even, but I promise, this isn't going to be like that! College is a chance for us to break out!"

"Break out? Whoa, Will. Aren't you being a little dramatic?"

Rolling her eyes, Willow retorted, "Right 'Ms. Change=Bad.' Clearly I'm the one being dramatic!" At Buffy's sigh, she continued, "Look, all I meant is that this a chance for a fresh start-for all of us. We're not locked into anything. It's a whole new world and this time, we get to set our own rules!"

Buoyed by Willow's obvious enthusiasm, Buffy couldn't help but smile.

"You know what, Will? You're absolutely right! This is gonna be great!"

Willow returned her smile, "That's the spirit, Buffy! Now, let's get the rest of your classes picked so that you can get on with the slayage and I can go meet Oz."

With that the girls moved back to their original spot on the ground amidst the college paraphernalia and Buffy's cache of weapons.

After studying her options for a few minutes, Buffy raised her head to look at Willow.

"Will, are we all still meeting at the bookstore on campus tomorrow afternoon?"

"Oh, um, yeah. How about we meet around 3? That way we'll both have plenty of time to get registered and all."

"Sounds like a plan," Seeing an opportunity, Buffy forged ahead, "Oh, and you get to call and let Cordelia know; I'm in not up to an hour-long debate about what to wear tomorrow and yet another lecture from 'Queen C' on how I need to start dating again."

"Fine," Willow agreed reluctantly, "but you're going to owe me for this! She's going to cut into my 'Oz time.'" As she passed a shrewd glance at her friend, she continued under her breath, "I'll never admit this in a million years, but I have to agree with Cordy. It's long past time for you to get back into the dating scene."

"Did you say something, Will?" Buffy questioned.

"Huh? Oh, not really. I, I mean I was just reading over the course description for this computer course." Quickly changing the subject, she drew Buffy's attention back to the course catalog in her lap.

***

Chapter Two: One Bookstore, Two Mishaps

At 3:15 the next afternoon, a frazzled Buffy finally made her way into the crowded campus bookstore. Sparing a quick glance at her watch, she mumbled a curse.

"Shit! I'm late! Cordy and Will are never going to let me hear the end of this."

Not spotting the familiar faces of her friends after a cursory scan of the crowd, she shifted the pile of folders and fliers in her arms and stretched to stand on her toes. Focused as she was on finding her friends, she never saw what hit her before she found herself on the ground, belongings scattered around her.

Slightly dazed from her unceremonious tumble, Buffy shook her head to clear it.

"As ucht De`!"

As the strange words broke through, she shook her head again.

'I must have bumped my head when I fell,' she thought, confused.

Turning to look at the current source of her confusion, she met the eyes of a clearly agitated dark haired young man.

"Huh?" she managed. "Oh, man. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to barrel right over ya," he said as he began gathering her folders and the various flyers she had collected during her trek across campus throughout the day.

Flummoxed, Buffy merely continued to stare at him.

"Freshman, right?"

Finally coming out of her haze, she smiled at the stranger, "How did you guess?"

"Oh, well. That 'deer in the headlights' look, coupled with the armload of folders, and this," he supplied with a smile of his own, holding up her map of the UC Sunnydale campus.

She chuckled and continued gathering her belongings, "Ah, and here I was about to be impressed by your powers of perception."

Before he was able to formulate a response, another voice sounded from above them.

"A woman impressed with Doyle? It's a good thing I came along when I did- we can't just let you go and ruin his extraordinary streak, now can we?"

Reaching down with a smirk on his face, he introduced himself as he helped Buffy to her feet.

"Hi there. I'm Charles. It seems you've already met Doyle."

"Oh, hi, Charles. I'm Buffy."

After smoothing out her skirt with her free hand, she grinned as she accepted the rest of her belongings from the man she now knew as Doyle. "Thanks, Doyle."

"No problem, Buffy. It was nice, uh, running into.”

Before Doyle had a chance to finish his thought, Charles interrupted with, "Doyle, man. C'mon! You're gonna make us late and you know how much 'the Boss' hates that." Already turning and striding away from Buffy and a sheepish Doyle, he threw the rest of his statement over his shoulder with a wicked grin, " I'm not about to incur the wrath of that bitch so you can stand around here and flirt."

Shooting a look at Doyle, Buffy stated, "I think that was your cue to exit stage left."

Looking slightly uncomfortable, Doyle replied, "Yeah. He's a right tactless bastard, but I do have to go. It was really nice meeting you, Buffy." Hopefully, he added, " Perhaps we'll run into each other again sometime."

"As long as you don't mean that literally," she teased, "that would be nice, Doyle."

Smiling in earnest now, he nodded and then hurried off in the same direction Charles had gone.

Amused, Buffy shook her head before resuming her search for her friends.

In the throng of students, she caught sight of a shock of red hair. Heading in that direction and praying that it was Willow, she pushed her way through the masses.

As she approached the area in which she'd spotted the redhead, she chuckled upon hearing the unmistakable grumblings of Cordelia Chase.

"God! Would you just look at all these people! It's a bookstore, for goodness sake, not Neiman Marcus on the day after Thanksgiving!"

Heaving a pained sigh and running a well-manicured hand through her long hair, she continued when she spotted Buffy, "Well, glad you decided to grace us with your presence, Buffy."

"And hello to you too, Cordy," Buffy bit back. As much as she liked her high school friend, she was always astounded by how snarky Cordelia could seem. With a tired smile she greeted her best friend and her taciturn boyfriend, "Hey, Will. Hey Oz. Sorry I'm late."

Oz merely nodded a greeting, while Willow bubbled excitedly, "Hi Buffy! Isn't this great?"

Surveying the throng surrounding them, she continued, "There's just so much going on here!"

"Yeah, almost too much," Cordelia grumbled, leafing through the fliers she had collected that day. "Have you ever seen so many fliers? I've got protest fliers for about ten different issues."

"Oooh, yeah," Willow interrupted, "and I'm ready to be righteously angry about each and every one of them."

Barely sparing the enthusiastic girl a glare, Cordy continued on, "Religious fliers," she paused to remove those from her stack and toss them into a nearby trash bin, "and, my personal favorite, the party fliers! Free Jell-O shots for freshman women at Alpha Delta on Thursday, all night Toga party at Epsilon Chi, and a mixer at Delta Psi Delta. Hmm. Oz, what do you know about any of these fraternities?"

"Already scouting for a rich boyfriend, Cordy?" Oz asked. Willow and Buffy chuckled at Cordy's glare.

"Hey now! You all know I'm not that shallow anymore. I was just wondering which of these parties would be the best to go to." Turning to her blonde friend with a mischievous gleam in her eye, she continued, "What do you say, Buffy? Wanna hit a frat party with me?"

"Are you crazy, Cordy, or did you just forget what happened the last time I let you talk me into going to a frat party?" Buffy was incredulous. Glancing at the other students around them, she lowered her voice and leaned towards Cordy, "Do the phrases 'demon snake,' 'spiked punch,' and 'ritual sacrifice' ring any bells?"

"Buffy, look at all these fliers!" Cordy thrust a stack towards Buffy. "They can't ALL be fronts for demonic rituals! We need to have some fun, especially if the rest of this week goes the way today has gone!" Seeing Buffy's continued reluctance, she turned to her other friends for help.

"Oz, Willow, tell her! We're in college now. Frat parties are part of the experience!"

"Well, the Dingoes and I are playing at the Alpha Delta party this week. I'm pretty sure that's non-demon." Oz assured Buffy.

"Yeah, Buffy," Willow chimed in, "we'll all go! It'll be fun. Our first little Scooby adventure at college," she paused, "Well, as much as it can be a Scooby adventure without Dander."

at the mention of her absentee friend, her good mood crumbled just a bit. Looking to cheer her back up, Buffy quickly agreed to attend the party on Thursday.

"Speaking of Xand, when was the last time you heard anything from him?" Buffy asked.

"Graduation," Cordelia snorted, "I've had a blissfully Harris-free summer."

Rolling her eyes at the brunette, Willow added, "Not for a while, Buffy. As far as I know, he's still on his 'see all fifty states' road trip."

Lifting an eyebrow, Oz interrupted, "Uh, Willow? Baby, did you tell him about Hawaii?" "He was so determined, I didn't have the heart."

"Well, I hope he gets back soon." Buffy stated with a smile, "It'd be fun to have the whole gang together, you know? We could all hang out, maybe bug our favorite 'man of leisure."

"Our favorite who," Cordelia was confused.

"She means Giles," Oz supplied.

"Yeah, man of leisure is like British for unemployed," Willow giggled. "Oh, Buffy, here!" She thrust an armload of books at her friend.

Struggling to balance her new load, Buffy frowned at her friend, "Uh, thanks, Will. What is all this?"

"Oh, it's all your books. Well, almost all anyway. We can't seem to find the psychology books we need. When I saw you were running late, I thought I'd grab your books too."

Buffy's frown quickly changed to a smile, "You're the best, Willow!" Her friend beamed back at her.

"Uh, let me be the one to interrupt your little love fest here," Cordy huffed, "What exactly kept you, Buffy? It's daylight, so we know it wasn't any of the undead."

"Oh, uh. No undead," Buffy agreed, searching for the shelves near her for the missing psychology textbook. "I stopped off at my dorm and met my roommate, Kathy."

"Is she nice," Willow immediately asked, "I haven't met my roommate yet, but I've heard all these horror stories. I'm just hoping mine will be cool."

"Well," Buffy hedged, "I'm not sure cool is the right word. She's definitely perky, though." Still scanning the shelves, she continued, "I walked in and she had Celine Dion just blaring on the stereo." Oz grimaced at the mention of the diva, but Cordy jumped in to defend Kathy.

"Celine's not that bad."

"No," Buffy reluctantly agreed, "she's not that bad, but not only was that Titanic song on repeat so that I heard it seven times before I was able to escape; she's also put up a Celine poster! And it seems she's spent the day labeling everything in our fridge and creating a pretty elaborate phone log. I can already tell it's going to be a long year!"

Cordelia clucked sympathetically, "Sounds awful, Buffy. Plus, now you've got to go back to being secret identity girl again! How are you going to explain all those bloodstains on your clothes? I'm telling you, you should have just moved into the apartment with me. It's huge and since Grandpa's paying for everything, it's not like you couldn't afford it!"

"I'm sure it's not going to be that bad," Willow reassured, "It's just going to be an adjustment, Buffy." Oz nodded his agreement and continued searching.

"I hope you're right, Will, but I'm seriously considering taking Cordy up on her offer. Mom insists that living in the dorms is a 'wonderful part of the whole experience and it'll allow you to make wonderful new friends'," she parroted. "So, I'm stuck trying it for a little while. Um, guys?" Her friends all turned to look at her. "Are we even sure these books exist?"

Oz smirked, Cordelia shrugged, and Willow assured her, "Yep, I've seen them! 'Introduction to Psychology.' Big, blue," she trailed off as something caught her eye. "Right up there!" She pointed excitedly at several copies of the elusive book on top of the bookcase.

"I'll get 'em," Buffy volunteered. Stretching on tiptoes again, she ventured, "You know, this store discriminates against short people."

"Hey, I bet there's a protest!" Willow chimed in, "Quick! Cordy! Check the fliers!"

Giggling a bit at her friend's humor, Buffy wobbled just a little and accidentally knocked the books off the shelf.

"Uh oh!" Hearing the groan that immediately followed the descent of the books, she and her friends peered timidly around the corner. Seeing the crouched figure stagger back, clutching at his head, she immediately launched into a string of apologies.

"Oh, ahh! Oh God! I'm so sorry!"

Shaking it off, the sandy haired man stood and looked at her, "I'm okay. It's okay. Well, that was bracing," as if to clear his head, he shook it again.

Seeing he was hurt, Buffy winced, "I'm so…" She trailed off only to try again, "The books. They were just too high and then everything. Well, it was bad. I'm so sorry." She finished helplessly as she bent to retrieve the books.

"Here, let me give you a hand," he offered, bending back down to gather the books. Putting a few of the books on a lower shelf, he muttered, "Let's put a few of these down here." Glancing back up at Buffy and her friends, he attempted a joke, "So, uh, are you all taking Introductory Psych, or do you just want me dead?" Oz chuckled while Buffy, tongue-tied, fumbled for words.

"Uh-huh," blushing when she realized she sounded like an idiot, she pressed on, " Oh, I mean the first one."

With a sympathetic grin, the young man responded, "Well, you'll have a lot of fun. Professor Walsh--she's quite a character."

"So, you've taken it?" Willow queried.

"I'm a TA, I'll be helping the Professor out." He stopped and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he continued, "I've forgotten my manners in all the concussion... I'm Riley."

Stepping forward to offer her hand, Willow introduced herself, "Willow," turning to point at each friend in turn, she continued on, "and this is my friend Buffy, my boyfriend Oz, and Cordelia." Oz and Cordelia each offered Riley a smile.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, all of you."

"I'm nice to meet," Cordelia smirked. Buffy just shook her head and jabbed the brunette's side with her elbow.

"Ouch," Cordy hissed, "watch the strength, Slay-gal." Merely rolling her eyes, Buffy refocused her attention on the Willow's conversation with the TA.

"Hey, do you know if we're going to be studying 'Operant Conditioning' in the first semester? 'Cause I hear that's kinda Professor Walsh's specialty."

Giving the redhead a surprised look, Riley answered, "Absolutely. Do you know her treatise on Dietrick's work?"

"I know of it," Willow conceded.

"It's not in the syllabus, but it's a fascinating read... if you're in to that sort of thing. They have it here."

"Oh, where?"

He pointed to some shelves across the room before leading the group that way, "I'll show you. I don't meet that many freshmen that know that much about psychology."

Hearing this, Cordelia let out a groan. "Is he hitting on Willow?" she whispered incredulously, "Can he at least find an interesting topic to pick her up right in front of her boyfriend? Hey, wait! Oz is right here! How rude! Ballsy, but rude," she prattled on.

"Sshh!" Buffy shushed her, "I don't think he was hitting on her, Cordy. This is college, I think this is what conversation is going to be like from now on." At the look of distress on Cordy's face, Buffy couldn't help but laugh. Taking pity on her friend, Buffy dragged her up the counter just in time to see Riley excuse himself and leave Willow and Oz by themselves.

***

Chapter Three: First Look at the Initiative

Rushing through sterile white corridors, barely glancing at the cells that housed an astonishing variety of demons, Charles and Doyle wound their way through the massive underground complex toward their designated meeting place.

Slowing his steps slightly, Charles spared his watch a glance before turning his reluctant attention back to his friend.

"She was really attractive, wasn't she?" Doyle asked for the third time.

"Yes!" Exasperated, Charles turned to his friend, "How many times are you gonna ask me the same question, Doyle?" Not giving Doyle a chance to answer, he continued, "Sure, she was a honey, I'll give you that. I have to tell ya though, most women are looking to be swept off their feet, man- not knocked on their asses. It's a fine line, I'll grant you," he mocked, but the remainder of the insult was quickly forgotten as the duo rounded a corner and caught sight of the chaos unfolding below.

In an enclosed observation area, nicknamed the "Pit," located near the center of the main chamber, three men in white lab coats could be seen attempting to control an enormous vampire.

Taking in the rapidly unraveling scenario below, Doyle found himself reverting to Gaelic to vent his frustrations for the second time that day, "Chac sé ar na huibheacha!"

"Whatever you just said, Irish," Gunn tossed to his companion, "I'm willing to go out on a limb and second it." Shaking his head, he watched with mounting disquiet as the team of men wrestled with the increasingly agitated demon.

"This is a disaster in the making," Doyle grumbled, "and it's got Drexel's bloody paw prints all over it! It took our squad over twenty minutes to subdue that hostile, and now he's sent three of his little science goons in with it--untrained and unarmed to boot! Let's go get them out before things get any uglier."

Both men rushed down a landing towards the sunken observation room. Reaching the enclosure, Charles keyed the five-digit access code into the security panel by the door as Doyle yanked on the door handle. The door didn't budge. They both stared at the panel, neither man believing what he saw. Red letters flashed a message: 'Access Denied.'

"You punched in the wrong code!" Doyle accused.

"No, I didn't!" Charles vehemently denied.

"Well, if ya didn't the door would be opening, wouldn't it?"

Frustrated, Doyle pushed Charles aside, entered the access code himself, and pulled expectantly on the door handle. To his dismay, the door still didn't budge. The flashing red letters continued their mockery as both men gaped disbelievingly at the offending panel.

"What the f…"

The sentence died on his lips as Charles saw the vampire hurl one of the scientists across the room. The young man's body hit the clear wall of the enclosure near the door; unconscious, he slid to the floor. Blood oozed from his head at the point of impact. In the center of the room, the vampire battled the two remaining scientists.

"Shit! We need to get in there! Now!"

Doyle tried the access code again while Charles ran over to intercom at the base of the stairs. Jamming down the button, he spoke tersely into the box.

"Agent Gunn requesting assistance in the Pit. We have an urgent situation. Send the nearest available Ops members and medical personnel immediately. Over."

Not waiting for a response, he sprinted back to the enclosure as an electronic voice echoed throughout the building.

"Code 32. Operations and medical units required in the Pit."

Inside the sealed room, the enraged vampire delivered a vicious kick to the midsection of the advancing scientist and shook off the grip of the other. Even as his attacker went down, the vampire spun around with lightning speed to face the man who had been attempting to hold him back. He grabbed onto the collar of the man's lab coat and yanked him closer.

Fighting for his life, the man threw a right uppercut and connected with the vampire's shoulder. Stumbling back a step from the blow, the vamp tripped over the prone body of the first scientist, fell, and hit his head on ground with some force. As the demon lay there, momentarily stunned, the scientist rushed over to an examination table in the far corner of the room. Sifting frantically through the instruments there, he looked for a weapon of some kind. Tossing aside a mountain of useless medical equipment, he latched onto a scalpel and turned to face the demon.

Still trying without success to open the door to the enclosure, Doyle and Gunn waited helplessly for back up to arrive while watching the struggle inside. It was like watching a silent horror movie come to life before their eyes--the thick polycarbonate walls of the enclosure, in addition to being nearly impenetrable, silenced the sounds of struggle from within. Unable to do more than look on in dismay, they saw the scientist spin around, clutching something in his right hand. Even as he turned to fight, the vampire was upon him.

Delivering a backhand that sent the small man reeling, the demon advanced. Pinning the dazed man's arms together with one of his own, he used his free hand to jerk the man's head to the side, baring his neck. Without hesitation, he sank his fangs into the man's throat and began to drink as back-up personnel arrived outside.

From an entryway to the left of the enclosed observation room, Riley Finn and another man, both clad in sweaty workout clothes and brandishing crossbows, ran into the Pit. Taking stock of the situation as they sprinted over, the first man to arrive shouted at Gunn and Doyle.

"What the hell is going on here? Get those men out of there!"

Turning to look at the newcomer, Doyle quickly filled him in as Riley reached them.

"We've tried! The damn access code isn't working!"

As Doyle again keyed in the access code, the new arrivals prepared to storm the room. When the door failed to open, they both looked at the security panel and saw the response. 'Access Denied.'

"Dammit!" Riley cursed and turned to the man beside him. Assessing the slightly shorter man, he questioned, "Do you have an override code?"

Shaking his head, the dark haired man responded in disgust, "No. Drexel won't share anything other than the most basic information with us."

"And that, Agent Connelly, is how it's going to stay," a voice from behind them spoke. "Your operations teams will continue to have as little access to my information as possible!"

As a group, the four men turned to face the head researcher. Gesturing towards the room, Riley spoke up.

"Drexel, open the damn door so we can get in there and get them out!"

With a shake of his head, Dr. Drexel gazed into the room in time to see the vampire drop the lifeless body of the man he'd been drinking from. He watched dispassionately as it advanced toward the door.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. We're testing a new drug on this HST. It's designed to suppress his reflexes and eventually knock him out. We have to know how long it takes for it to become effective."

Even as the last word left his mouth, Drexel felt himself shoved up against the wall, his arm twisted painfully behind his back and a large arm applying pressure to the back of his neck.

"You sonofabitch!" Connelly raged, increasing the pressure he was applying to the man's arm, forcing him tighter against the safety glass.

"Take a good look at what's going on in there! Those men, YOUR MEN, are dying! Whatever potion you've concocted this time IS NOT WORKING! Now open this door!"

"No, we have to know how long," Drexel choked out even as Connelly spun him around and slammed his back against the wall, this time applying the pressure to his throat.

"Tell. Me. The. Code." Eyes flashing dangerously, Connelly ground out the words as he increased the pressure on the doctor's throat. The doctor clawed at the hand on his throat even as his vision began to dim. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound escaped.

Connelly kept up the pressure even as Doyle's hand on his arm broke through his murderous haze.

"Angel! ANGEL! Let up before you kill 'im, man!"

***

Chapter Four: The Briefing

Doyle's voice and the insistent tugging on his arm penetrated Angel's rage and he visibly tried to reign in his temper. Relaxing his grip on Drexel's throat, he kept the man pinned against the wall of the observation room. The angry glint in his eyes had disappeared, only to be replaced with a cold, hard stare as he used every bit of his six-foot-one frame to try to intimidate the smaller man. His voice low now, he glared menacingly at Drexel as he repeated his demand.

"Give me the access code."

Meeting the steely glare with one of his own, Dr. Drexel cleared his throat and swallowed hard. Mustering every bit of strength he had, he pushed away the hand at his throat and doubled over, attempting to catch his breath.

Able to breathe now, the researcher was quickly coming into his own anger as he righted himself and faced his challenger.

"You forget your place here, *agent*," he sneered. "This is the lab, *MY* lab, and I will do in it as I see fit."

He spared a glance at the three other men and, deciding they would remain passive, returned his attention to the young man who had attacked him.

"You can do whatever the hell you want in the field, but you will NOT come in here and make demands and manhandle me. Ever! Do you understand me?"

His anger resurfacing rapidly, Angel shouted at Drexel, "Have you lost your mind? You've got men dying in there and you're on some kind of power trip?" Shaking his head in disbelief, he spat, "You disgust me!"

Deciding to intervene before the situation escalated again, Gunn stepped between the two angry men.

"Both of you need to chill out," he started. Receiving similar dirty looks from both of them, he pressed on, "You two can have your little pissing contest later! Right now we have something more important to worry about." Finishing his statement, he indicated the room behind him where the vampire, having apparently given up on the idea of escape, was draining his second victim.

Riley stepped up next to Gunn and spoke to the researcher, "We need to get in there. Drexel, you don't have to tell us the code, but you damn well better open that door and let us get those men out of there."

"No. We need to…"

Not giving Drexel a chance to complete his sentence, Angel again grabbed the man roughly and began threatening him.

Involved as they were in their situation, none of the men noticed the entrance of a woman in her fifties leading a group of five lab coat-clad men.

Taking in the carnage inside the observation room and the confrontation occurring just outside its doors in one glance, she strode purposefully to the door of the observation room and keyed in an access code. Silently, the door opened and the men that had been following her swept into the room. Working rapidly, two of the men approached the vampire and took aim with devices that resembled large tazers.

Firing simultaneously, they hit the vampire with large, crackling bolts of electricity that immediately knocked the creature to the ground. As soon as it hit the ground, they rushed forward and picked it up. Struggling a bit under it's weight, the men managed to hoist the demon onto the exam table in the corner of the room where they were able to restrain it, while their coworkers tended to the injured.

Satisfied that the situation within the room was contained, the woman turned her attention to the men arguing without. To her surprise, the men were still not aware of her arrival. Stepping toward them, she made her presence known.

"Gentlemen!"

Immediately, Riley, Doyle, and Gunn spun to face her and shifted to the position of attention.

Sensing the woman's ire, Riley began to speak, "Professor Walsh, ma'am…"

Cutting him off with a wave of her hand, she glared at Angel and Dr. Drexel, who had continued to face off, Angel still holding the researcher by the front of his lab coat.

"Agent Connelly! Release the doctor."

Years of training kicked in and Angel let go of the doctor while shifting into a position of attention. His back still to the Professor, he continued to look fiercely at Drexel, who was busy straightening his clothes with a superior look on his face.

Finally noticing the look he was getting from Angel, Dr. Drexel hastened to move out of his line of sight. Positioning himself beside the younger man, he focused his attention on the perturbed woman who was his boss.

"Professor Walsh! This saves me the trouble of finding you later. Are you aware that these men were interfering with a critical experiment being conducted by my team?"

Casting a glance at the observation room, the professor raised an eyebrow, "Doesn't appear to have been a very successful experiment, Dr. Drexel. I arrived to see at least one human casualty and an enraged hostile." She paused before continuing, "That displeases me. I'll expect a complete report and explanation on my desk by day's end."

Shifting her interest to the young man whose back was still to her, she ordered, "About face, Agent Connelly. I'd like to be able to see your face when you explain yourself."

In the midst of an otherwise crisply executed about-face, Angel managed to kick his left leg out to sweep Drexel's right out from under him. Face completely devoid of emotion, he came to rest, facing Prof. Walsh, just as Drexel landed in a heap beside him.

Hearing the commotion and cursing that accompanied the doctor's fall, Doyle and Gunn barely managed to suppress their laughter. Riley merely smirked.

"Well, that certainly seemed uncalled for, Agent." Walsh reproached.

"Not at all, Ma'am," Angel stated calmly, "It was completely called for."

"I'll be the judge of that," looking down at her watch, she continued, "but, as we're already late for our briefing, it seems I'll be the judge of that a little bit later. You're all dismissed to head to the briefing room. I'll be right behind you."

Immediately, Doyle, Gunn, and Riley headed toward the exit. Angel hesitated a moment, gazing into the observation room and trying to assess the situation.

Catching his hesitation, the professor spoke again, "I said dismissed, Connelly. NOW!"

Casting a dark look her way, he hurried off to catch up with the others.

Once he was out of earshot, Walsh again addressed Drexel, "What on earth were you thinking, pulling a stunt like this out here in the open?"

"Well, we needed…" he started before he was cut off again.

"Save it! I'm already running late. I'll expect to see you in my office after the briefing, completed report in hand." With that, she turned and started toward the briefing room.

Taking a last look at the grisly scene in the observation room, she called back to him, "See that this mess gets cleaned up before anyone else has to see it! It'll kill moral!"

***

Arriving in the briefing room, Doyle, Gunn, Angel and Riley were greeted with curious stares. Shaking their heads to ward off any questions from their coworkers, the four men quickly seated themselves in empty seats near the front of the room and waited for the arrival of Professor Walsh.

Seated next to Angel, Doyle looked at his friend and shook his head. Leaning over, he whispered, "You're in deep shit you know that, right?"

Sighing, Angel merely nodded his head.

Gunn, having caught the whispered conversation, added his two cents, "You have to be crazy going after Drexel like that, man. He's probably talking Walsh into court-martialing you right now!"

"Nah," Doyle disagreed, "She likes Angel too much to do that. 'Sides, Drexel can't be too high on her list right now, either. He got at least one o' his people killed and I don't imagine her taking that very well."

"Hey, do you think they got there in time to save the other two?" Angel asked. "I wasn't paying much attention while I was trying to persuade that bastard to help."

Joining the conversation, Riley asked, "Persuading? Is that what you're calling it? From where I was standing it looked a lot like choking."

"So maybe I got a little carried away," Angel admitted ruefully.

Seeing Professor Walsh enter the room, Doyle advised, "Better worry about it later, she's here."

Moving to the front of the room, Professor Walsh surveyed the men before her, making eye contact with each before she began her briefing.

"Gentleman, I know most of you have been waiting here for some time now. There was some excitement earlier that required my attention. I apologize for the delay. I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary, so I'll try to be brief."

Knowing she had the full attention of every man in the room, she continued, "Having reviewed your files, I know that most of you spent the past year in the jungles of Central and South America, fighting hostiles there, so I know that being here, in a little California college-town, is a big adjustment." She smiled and continued, "I'm proud to say that you've all done a remarkable job settling into the college routine and assuming the roles we've created as covers.

"We've all been here in Sunnydale for several months now and, so far, everything has gone to plan. Your patrols have been well executed and productive and you seem to have developed into a wonderful unit.

"Because of concerns voiced by our superiors in Washington, patrols have been limited to the university and surrounding grounds... That all changes now. Effective tomorrow, you will be patrolling the entire city of Sunnydale."

The men in the room exchanged glances, some pleased, others anxious, as she continued, "This will result in some minor changes. We are recommending that you wear dark clothes while on patrol. Carry back packs, which seem common on campus, to carry your weapons. Do not, under any circumstances, patrol while wearing camouflage! For whatever reason, the residents of this town have ignored what goes on after sun down for years. I'd like to make sure it stays that way. The last thing any of us need is for someone to see one of you, dressed in military fatigues, fighting some HST. Suddenly it stops being a common occurrence in Sunnydale and it becomes some sort of 'X-Files' plot wherein the government is the mastermind behind some great evil. I want that avoided at all costs, is that understood?"

Looking around the room for agreement, she saw heads nodding and heard a chorus of "Yes, ma'am's."

"Good. Tonight, I don't want any of you patrolling. All teams will stand down." Seeing confusion on several faces, she continued.

"Consider it 'mandatory fun.' Tonight, I want everyone out on the town. Visit the clubs, wander the mall, go out to eat, whatever. Just get acquainted with the town and try to blend. Are there any questions?"

Waiting until she was sure there were no questions, she nodded. "Dismissed."

As men slowly filed out of the door, she spoke again, "Agents Finn and Connelly, I'd like a word, please."

Nearly at the door, Riley and Angel exchanged a look.

"How did I get dragged into your mess again, Angel?" Riley muttered, just loudly enough for Angel to hear him.

With a slight shrug, Angel turned and slowly walked toward the professor.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I'd still like an explanation for that scene earlier. What on earth possessed you to attack Dr. Drexel that way?"

"People were dying!"

"Agent, we're in a dangerous business. People die all the time. Members of your team have died before without you feeling the need to attack anyone," she reasoned.

"I realize that, ma'am. Armed men dying in combat is something I've accepted something all of us have accepted or we wouldn't be here," taking a breath, he continued, "This, this was different. Those men weren't soldiers. They weren't trained. Hell, they weren't even armed! They were no more able to defend themselves than any of the civilians we try to save every night we patrol. We couldn't get in there to save them and Drexel refused to cooperate, so I lost my temper."

Walsh stared at him for a long, silent minute before she nodded.

"I can understand that." Noticing the eyes of both young men widening slightly, she continued, "I can understand that but it *cannot* happen again."

Looking at both of them, she stated, "You two are my squad leaders. I'll spare you both the 'lead by example' speech, as I'm sure you're familiar with it, but I will not tolerate such behavior again! Fighting with other members of the Initiative is completely unacceptable, regardless of the situation! Do I make myself clear?"

Riley nodded, "Crystal, ma'am."

"Yes," Angel agreed.

She smiled, "Outstanding. Now, you're both dismissed. Go! See the sights. Enjoy your night. Just try to stay out of trouble."

Her smile faded as they hurried out of the briefing room; moments later, Drexel entered, a manila folder in hand. Shaking his head, he handed her the folder.

"They're soft," he stated, his tone distasteful.

Leafing through the report and photos in the folder, she disagreed.

"They're young, idealistic, perhaps even naive but they're not soft."

Stopping to look at a still shot of Drexel being manhandled by Agent Connelly while Agent Finn stood nearby, she smiled at him and continued, "Besides, they certainly have potential."

***

Chapter 5.-- Mandatory Fun

When Professor Walsh had released them after no more than a perfunctory lecture, Angel had been wary-- sure her good mood wouldn't last and his reprieve would be short lived; Riley had apparently felt the same way because neither of them had wasted any time leaving the briefing room after their dismissal.

Not even bothering to stop by the locker room to grab their regular clothing, they headed for the elevator that would take them to the fraternity house above. After stepping inside and speaking into the voice- recognition unit to satisfy the stringent security protocol, they each had retreated to a corner of the lift and stared at the ceiling; neither uttering another word as the elevator completed it's ascent.

As the doors slid open to reveal the second floor of Lowell House, Riley had grabbed Angel's shoulder before he had a chance to step out.

"Hey, don't forget it's your turn to do the sight count tonight," he reminded with a grin.

"Ugh. I almost forgot," Angel groaned before heading off to the armory to perform the nightly weapons count.

***

Nearly thirty minutes later, Angel was walking through the hallway toward his room, still not able to believe his luck: He'd gotten off very light after his altercation with Dr. Drexel and, for the first time since his arrival in Sunnydale, he had the luxury of a night off.

Strolling into his room, he wasn't surprised to find Doyle and Gunn waiting for him there.

"Hey man, where ya been?" Gunn asked immediately.

"Armory. It was my turn to do the sight count," Angel explained then continued with a smirk, "Why? Did ya miss me, Gunn?"

Doyle snorted and Gunn shot him a dark look before turning back to Angel.

"Sorry, man. You're not my type," he grinned, the familiar banter coming easily. "Naw, we were just worried since you were last seen with the bitch and Boy Wonder. When he came back up without you. We were about to send out a rescue team."

"Yeah," Doyle interrupted, "How'd it go with Walsh, anyway?"

"Well, Riley and I both lived to tell the tale."

The three men exchanged wry glances. Each had been on the receiving end of one of Professor Walsh's sterner 'lectures' before.

"So," Doyle began, "while you were out playing with the weapons, Gunn and I did some checking around. Trying to see what kind of fun there's to be had in Sunnydale."

Interested, Angel raised an eyebrow, "Oh yeah? What'd you find out?"

"Doesn't seem like there's a whole lot goin' on in this town after dark, man."

Gunn interrupted, "Yeah, they may be in denial about some things, but they're not stupid. These people don't play after sundown."

"There are a handful of decent restaurants, one really scary fast food place that serves beef and chicken burgers."

"Wait, what's scary about the fast food place?" Angel wanted to know.

"I told ya, they serve beef and chicken burgers!"

"Doyle, so do most fast food restaurants."

"Together, man! The chicken and the beef are together-- in the *same* sandwich!"

"Egh!" Angel made a face, "I grant you, that's different but it doesn't really qualify as scary."

"Are you kidding? They're mixing species here, Angel! I tell ya, it's against all laws of God and man!"

Quirking and eyebrow at Angel as Doyle's diatribe ended, Gunn said, "Three guesses where we *won't* be dining tonight."

Angel just laughed and asked, "Getting back on track here. Where *are* we going?"

"Well, we've only heard of one club so far."

"Wait! Just one?"

"Yeah, just one," Doyle shrugged, "We told you it was dead around here after dark."

Angel shot Doyle an 'I'm not amused' look and turned to Gunn, "Well, what's this club called?" "The Bronze."

"Okay, so let me grab a quick shower and we'll head to this Bronze."

***

Arms laden with books, Cordelia followed Buffy into her dorm room, complaining.

"Well, really, Buffy. Would it have killed you to carry my books "Cordelia! I'm carrying my own books!" Buffy sighed, carefully setting her own load of books on the battered desk in front of her bed. "Besides, traditionally you're supposed to meet a nice, good-looking *guy* and have *him* tote your stuff around for you."

"I know that, but since you're all 'superpowers girl' and I'm just 'regular old girl,' I don't see what the big deal would have been!" the brunette pouted before continuing, "Besides, the only guy I'd even *consider* letting help me with my books so far, is the guy you nearly killed in the bookstore."

"HEY! I didn't nearly kill him not on purpose, anyway!" Buffy sputtered. "Can I help it that those books were so close to the edge of such a very high shelf? Of course, I can't. Wait a minute," she whirled to face Cordelia, "You thought the TA was cute? Even when you thought he was putting the moves on Willow?"

"He was still yummy," Cordy smirked, "in a wholesome kind of way."

"I guess," Buffy agreed reluctantly.

Tossing her books haphazardly on Buffy's bed, Cordy made herself at home while critically examining the small room.

"It's tiny!" She declared and turned to survey Kathy's side of the room. "And, my God! Is that poster of Celine Dion *life-sized*?"

Plopping down in her desk chair, Buffy turned to look at the poster in question.

Cringing a little even as she looked at it, she conceded, "It has to be pretty close. She looks so tiny in all her videos."

Digging in her tote bag, Cordelia shook her head. Pulling out a bottle of water, she gave Buffy a shrewd glance.

"I'm betting I'll have a new roommate before the week is out."

"Yeah, maybe."

Before Buffy could finish, the door to the room burst open and Kathy waltzed in, headphones on, singing off key at the top of her lungs.

"Once more you OOPPENN the door, and you're here in my heart, and my heart will go and ooonnnn. Love can touch us one time and last." Not noticing the two girls already in the room, she made her way over to the stereo system and put the CD she'd been listening to in and hit 'play.'

"Uh, hi! Kathy!" Buffy greeted her roommate.

Emitting a startled gasp, Kathy whirled around, hand over her heart, blushing furiously.

"Oh! Gosh," she stammered, "Buffy, you scared me! I didn't see you or your friend."

"Yeah, you seemed a little," Not sure how to finish, Buffy let the sentence trail off.

"Preoccupied," Cordelia supplied tactfully. Cordelia certainly wasn't known for her tact and it was all Buffy could do to stifle a gasp.

Kathy's blush became even deeper, but she said nothing.

Sweeping her hand to gesture from one girl to the other, Buffy hastily made the introductions.

"Kathy, this is Cordelia Chase. Cordy, this is Kathy Tapparich."

With a fake smile honed through years of rigorous cheerleading competition in place, Cordy faced her friend's new roommate and offered her hand, "Hi."

"Nice to meet you," Kathy said, taking the offered hand.

Noticing the bottle of water Cordy held, Kathy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Dropping the brunette's hand, she stalked over to the refrigerator and flung open the door; counting aloud, she started to check if all her water was still inside.

Cordelia stared incredulously at Kathy for a moment before turning to gape at Buffy.

The blonde raised an eyebrow and mouthed, "See?" before shaking her head in a gesture of indifference.

Satisfied that all her water was accounted for, Kathy turned back to face them.

"So, what are you two doing tonight? Anything special?"

"Uh, no." Buffy quickly declared.

"Nothing special," Cordelia affirmed.

"Well, a bunch of us from this floor are going to hang out at the coffee house. You should come," Kathy suggested.

"You mean the Espresso Pump?" Cordy asked.

"Huh? Oh, no. The one here on campus," Kathy corrected. "We're hoping to meet some guys and we've heard a lot of the Greeks hang out there."

Misunderstanding the blank looks she was getting, she explained further, "Greeks! You know! Frat guys!" Realizing her song was ending, she hurried over to hit the 'repeat' button on her stereo and called over her shoulder, "Really! It'll be super fun!"

Again staring at Buffy, Cordelia mouthed, "Super fun?" and shook her head vigorously.

As the song "My Heart Will Go On" began to play again, Kathy turned and looked expectantly at Buffy and Cordy.

"Well," she prodded, "What do you say?"

"Uh, no!" Cordelia blurted out, her supply of tact exhausted.

"What she means," Buffy came to the rescue, "is we already promised we'd meet some of our friends off campus tonight-- so we'll have to take a rain check."

"Oh, okay. Maybe next time." Kathy threw over her shoulder as she grabbed a jacket and left the room.

"I don't think so," Cordelia muttered. Looking at Buffy, she continued, "You do realize that was your jacket she left with, don't you?"

"What?!" Upset, Buffy started to run after the other girl, but stopped when she heard her friend.

"Buffy! Let her go," Cordy urged, "It's not worth it. That jacket was *so* last season anyway!"

Sighing, Buffy flopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling for a minute before lifting her head and smiling at her friend.

"Well, at least now we know where we *won't* be going tonight."

"Yeah," Cordy agreed with a giggle, "Anywhere on campus."

"You got it!"

"So, that leaves the Bronze, I guess."

"Yeah," Buffy rolled off the bed and walked over to her phone. "I'm calling Will to let her know to meet us there."

Pushing aside the call log Kathy had laid on top of it, she started dialing.

***

Walking into the Bronze shortly after 8:30, Cordelia and Buffy stood for a moment, taking in the scene.

At the far end of the room, on an elevated stage, a local band was performing. Cover songs were again the order of the night, and the current band was already in a frenzy, pounding out the sounds of the Foo Fighters' newest release and bounding around on stage. In front of the stage was a dance floor where 'enthusiastic' regulars did their best to dance. Beyond the dance floor, tables and couches were spread around, creating comfort zones that allowed the less 'enthusiastic' patrons to eat, relax, and just converse with one another. Near the back was a bar and small kitchen, serving all the foods its customer's deemed essential: a wide range of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages and quick meals such as nachos, hot dogs, and French fries.

After years of coming to this club during high school, Buffy and Cordelia found it all very familiar to them comfortable, even.

Surveying the room for a few minutes, Buffy looked for Willow.

"Do you see her, Cordy?"

"No." Shaking her head, the tall brunette continued to look around the club. Spotting a table of attractive men, her eyes lit up and she nudged her friend.

"Hello, salty goodness!"

Confused, Buffy looked around, "Huh?"

"I see a table of guys, Buffy! Hot guys! Try to keep up, would ya?"

Rolling her eyes, Buffy laughed. "Some things just never change, do they?"

Cocking her head to the side, the brunette smiled at her friend, "Nope, and some things never will."

"Comforting," Buffy replied wryly, "Why don't you get us a table? I'll grab some drinks and find you."

Grinning wickedly, Cordy smoothed a hand over her perfectly styled hair and walked away. Shaking her head in amusement, Buffy turned and made her way to the bar.

Handing the harried bartender some money, she ordered two diet sodas and leaned against the bar, waiting patiently for him to fill her order; it wasn't a long wait and within two minutes she was ready to find Cordelia.

Drinks in hand, Buffy turned and nearly dropped both sodas as she bumped into someone. Quickly, two hands reached out and gripped the beverages, preventing them from tumbling to the floor. Steadying her own hold on the drinks, Buffy looked up into the eyes of the person she had collided with; gazing back at her was a familiar pair of gray eyes. Before she could stop herself, Buffy started giggling.

"Well, now! That's hardly the reaction a man hopes for from a pretty girl."

Worried for a moment that she might have hurt his feelings, Buffy stopped her giggling and looked up at him. Seeing his amused look, she gave him a big smile.

"I'm sorry. I know I said it'd be nice bumping into you again, Doyle, but I never expected to really 'bump' into you again. Especially so soon."

"Seems I'm a lucky man, then," he returned her grin. "What brings you here tonight, lass? Most of the freshmen don’t wander this far from campus during their firs' week."

"Oh, I'm trying to avoid my new roommate," she shrugged, "we knew she was staying on campus, so we decided not to. That sounds terrible, doesn't it?" She looked to him for confirmation.

"Not a t'all. I spent quite a bit o' time hiding out from my firs' roommate. He's par' of the reason I joined a fraternity right away," he reassured her. Gathering his courage, he continued. "You said 'we.' I'm not keeping you from your date, am I?"

"Date? Oh, no. I came with my friend Cordelia," scanning the crowd for her friend, Buffy missed the quick look of relief that washed over Doyle. Spotting Cordelia, she waved to her before turning back to face Doyle. "I should probably head on over there, she's not known for her patience."

"Well, here, lemme carry those drinks for ya," he offered, determined to spend a little more time with this lovely creature.

"Uh, okay," she smiled. Handing him the cups, she turned and threaded her way through the crowd, Doyle close on her heels.

Arriving at the table Cordelia had secured, Buffy noticed that Willow had arrived and was already seated. Cordelia was talking animatedly, gesturing in the direction of the stage, while Willow nodded her head.

"I see, and that's why Teague and I really broke up-- it wasn't because he ended up working at the Mexican restaurant and shaving his head like he keeps telling people. It was totally because he never let me get a word in edgewise! Have you ever met anyone who just will not shut up about themselves?" Without waiting for an answer, Cordelia went on, "You just can't have a meaningful conversation with people like that. Oh," noticing Buffy's arrival, her attention shifted to the blonde, "it took you long enough!" Noticing the man with Buffy for the first time, she trailed off uncomfortably.

"Hi guys, this is Doyle. Doyle, these are my friends, Willow and Cordelia." Buffy introduced him quickly and sat down.

As Doyle placed the drinks on the table, he sized up Buffy's friends: a brunette and a redhead, both girls were extremely pretty, even though they were complete opposites. The brunette he knew immediately had to be Cordelia. She was gorgeous but the air of superiority she exuded was nearly palpable. Still, she smiled as she looked him over and he couldn't help but smile in return. The redhead, on the other hand, seemed a bit on the shy; still, she smiled warmly at him and gave a little wave.

Motioning to an empty chair, Cordelia spoke, "Have a seat, Doyle."

Sliding into the offered seat, he glanced at the three girls and employed some of the fabled Irish charm.

"'Tis a pleasure to meet ya both, Willow and Cordelia. To tell the truth, I feel a bit like a thorn amidst the roses sitting here with ya ladies," he admitted with a smile and watched as all three of their faces lit up.

Watching Doyle from a table across the room, Gunn shook his head and nudged his friend. When Angel looked over at him, he nodded in Doyle's direction.

"Check out Irish, man!"

Glancing at a table behind him, Angel saw Doyle sitting with three women, two of whom were smiling broadly at something he had just said. He couldn't see the face of the blonde woman next to Doyle, but knowing his friend, he guessed she too would be smiling.

"He does have the touch," Angel conceded.

"Hmm. A redhead, a brunette, a blonde, and an Irishman in a bar. I just know there's a joke in there somewhere," Riley grinned from his seat next to Angel.

"Seriously, guys, how does he *do* that? Whenever we go out he ends up with women fawning all over him," grumbled the man sitting across from them.

Shooting him a sympathetic grin, Angel just shrugged his shoulders, "No idea, Forrest."

"I think it's the accent," Gunn added.

"Yeah," Riley nodded in agreement, "I think the accent helps, but he's just got some great lines."

"I've got lines, too," Forrest frowned, "and you don't see me with women all over me."

"That's probably because your pick-up lines suck, man," Riley teased.

As Forrest started to shake his head, Angel spoke. "No," cutting off Forrest's denial before it even got underway, he continued, "Riley's right. Last time we were out I actually heard you say 'All those curves and me with no brakes' to a girl."

Chuckling, Gunn added, "Still better than what he did last night. He walked up to a girl and told her that her eyes were 'as deep and blue as the Pacific Ocean' and he was 'a man lost at sea...'"

"That's not a bad line," Forrest insisted. "It probably wouldn't have been," Gunn conceded, "if her eyes hadn't been brown."

Ducking his head, Forrest nursed his beer and waited for his friends' laughter to subside.

Taking a second look at Doyle and his companions, Riley realized something.

"Hey, I know those girls." Receiving curious looks from everyone at his table, he continued, "I met them at the bookstore today. One of them, the blonde, I forget her name, knocked a bunch of books on my head." Reminded of his earlier accident, Riley gingerly felt the bump on his head. "I think they're all in Walsh's psychology 101 class."

"Hmmm," Gunn glanced over at the table again before returning his attention to his friends, "So that'd make them all freshmen, right?" At Riley's nod, he went on, "Could be that the blonde is the same girl Doyle ran into at the bookstore today. He hasn't shut up about her... Buffy was her name, I think."

Taking a sip of his beer, Riley looked at Gunn curiously. "Since when does Doyle have a thing for blondes? And what kind of name is *Buffy,* anyway?"

Getting no response from his friends, he looked up and realized that they were staring at something behind him, clearly trying not to laugh. Without even looking, he knew Doyle and his latest bunch of admirers were standing behind him. With a groan, he turned around in his chair slowly, locking eyes with Doyle for a moment before shifting his gaze to the tiny blonde at Doyle's side.

Wincing, he started to apologize, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"No, it's okay," Buffy smiled good-naturedly, "I can't answer your first question, but as for your second one," she paused, "my mother likes to claim it's 'exotic. I usually just stick with 'unique.'"

Trying to erase the last of the tension, Doyle started making introductions.

"Guys, these enchanting lasses are Willow, Cordelia, and Buffy," he said, gesturing to each girl as he said her name, "and these, ladies, are my fraternity brothers. Removing tha last traces o' foot from 'is mouth is Riley," Doyle chuckled and ignored the dirty look directed his way as he continued, "To 'is right is Forrest." Forrest nodded and smiled at the girls as Doyle carried on.

"Nexta Forrest is Gunn," Gunn hoisted his drink in a little salute as his name was mentioned, "and on Riley's other side is Angel."

"Hey," Angel greeted the newcomers. Rising to his feet, he offered his chair, "Would you like to sit down?"

Nodding, Cordelia quickly sat down as Doyle and Angel pulled up three additional chairs and positioned them around the table. Sitting down next to Cordelia, Willow left Buffy to sit between Doyle and Angel.

"So," Forrest began, "How did you all hear about this place?"

"Well, we've been coming here forever," Cordelia informed him.

"Since we were 15, at least," Willow agreed. "It was kinda the only place to go in high school."

"So you're all from here?" Riley asked.

"Not really. Willow and I have lived here all our lives, but Buffy moved here from LA a few years ago."

"LA?" Intrigued, Gunn studied the blonde before going on, "I lived in LA for years. Where'd you go to school?"

"Hemery," Not wanting to dwell on her past in Los Angeles, Buffy jumped up when she noticed a slow song starting. Turning to Doyle, she smiled hopefully, "Wanna dance?"

"I'd love to," he assured her, standing up and grabbing her hand. Just as they started to walk toward the dance floor, his cell phone rang.

Checking the caller id, he looked at her apologetically, "I hafta take this. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," she assured him, "we'll just wait for the next song."

"Nonsense," he told her, "it'd be a right shame to deny so beautiful a lass a dance when she's ready." Looking over at the table he considered for a moment before motioning Angel over. As his friend approached, he whispered to Buffy, "Angel'll dance with ya. Just watch yer feet."

"No, really, that's not…" Buffy protested, trailing off as Angel reached them.

"Angel, I just got a call I can't dodge. Dance with the lass for me while I call 'em back, will ya?" Without waiting for a response, Doyle headed for a quieter area of the club. Buffy watched him hurry off before turning to face her newly drafted dance partner.

To be honest, she wasn't sure she wanted to dance with Angel and, judging by the look on his face, she was sure he wasn't any more excited about the prospect than she was. Trying to figure out just what it was about him that made her feel... uncomfortable, she studied him carefully.

At about six foot one, with dark hair and eyes the color of espresso beans, she had to admit he was gorgeous. Unquestionably. In fact, under other circumstances, she was sure she and Cordelia would have been trading blows over who got to talk to him, let alone dance with him. No closer to a finding a reason, she was still puzzling it out when his voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"So, would you still like to dance?" Angel asked her, extending his hand.

"Um, sure," she agreed, deciding to be polite. After all, it was only a dance.

Taking his hand, she got an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach but quickly shook it off and followed him out onto the dance floor.

Reaching the floor, they awkwardly leaned into each other's embrace and started swaying to the music. They had just started to relax and enjoy the dance when the lights flickered. Once, twice, and then the Bronze was plunged into complete darkness.

***

Chapter Six: Darkness Hidden By Darkness

Once, twice, and the Bronze was plunged into complete darkness.

With the darkness came a sudden, eerie quiet as nearly everyone in the building froze, waiting for the back-up generator and emergency lighting to turn on.

Only the band’s drummer seemed oblivious to the suffocating layer of darkness; completely engrossed in the music, he continued pounding out an energetic rhythm until the violent change in atmosphere finally permeated his creative bubble and brought his solo to an abrupt halt.

As the echoes of the drum solo faded and the crowd began to grow restless, the deafening silence that marked everyone collectively held breath gave way to worried whispers and hushed grumbles. An occasional shriek, followed by nervous laughter, could be heard as various patrons tried to make their way towards the exits, stumbling blindly over furniture and each other.

On the dance floor, Angel’s arms wrapped around Buffy instinctively as he drew her closer to him-- ready to protect her if the need arose. In any town other than Sunnydale, he wouldn’t have been concerned by the sudden power outage. In fact, he would most likely have dismissed it as faulty wiring, a car accident that disturbed the power lines, or even a sudden storm. This *was* Sunnydale, however, with its underground power lines, balmy September weather, and incredibly high mortality rate. He knew all too well that the more mundane reasons were strictly best-case scenario in this deceptively sleepy town. Thinking about the variety of demons he had seen since his arrival, he tightened his hold on Buffy, determined to shield the tiny blonde from harm.

Barely registering Angel’s protective move, Buffy stiffened as she focused her attention on her surroundings.

So far, no one in the club seemed to be panicking, which was both a relief and a sad testament to how much life on the Hellmouth had desensitized people. Shaking off the unwanted observation, she closed her eyes and drew on her other senses.

After a moment she realized something: Her ‘Spidey’ sense, as she (much to Giles’ continuing dismay) liked to call the sixth sense that allowed her to detect vampires, wasn’t tingling. That meant no fanged representatives of the undead were responsible for the sudden loss of power. Of course, she conceded with a sigh, that didn’t rule out other types of demons or even the garden-variety humans that occasionally decided to wreak havoc on her town. Momentarily distracted, she wondered how many other Slayers had been faced with such a constant barrage of demons.

Come to think of it, ‘Vampire Slayer’ is a pretty narrow title. Does that mean there are Slayers out there for other kinds of demons? I bet we could start a union! A Slayer’s Union! Now that I think about it, Slayer isn’t very P.C., either. It might be time to change the title. Maybe we could be ‘Eliminators of the Humanity Challenged.’ No, that would upset the good demons. How about ‘Eliminators of the Morally Impaired.’ Nope. That’s not going to work either, too general, since some humans can be morally impaired and we wouldn’t want to take on too much for ourselves and put the cops out of business. Hmmm, I’d better leave the renaming to the union. She mused, I have to remember to ask Giles about that later.’

Brought back to reality by the sound of another shriek and some giggling, Buffy tensed again and scanned the crowd, searching for any signs of demonic activity.

Noticing Buffy’s tension and mistaking it for fear, Angel leaned down and spoke into her ear, “It’s okay.”

With her Slayer senses already on high alert, Buffy nearly leapt out of her skin at the unexpected words and the feeling of Angel’s warm breath on her ear. She’d been so caught up in her observation that she’d nearly forgotten about the man dancing with her.

Feeling a little silly, she laughed. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little jumpy.”

”It’s okay. I think everyone’s getting jumpy, but somebody probably just tripped the circuit breaker. I’m sure the lights will be back on any second now,” he reassured her, even though he didn’t believe his own words.

”You’re probably right,” Buffy quickly agreed, even though she seriously doubted his assessment of the situation.

The fact that the emergency lighting had yet to turn on wasn’t lost on either of them.

”Um, maybe we should try to get back to our table and check in with the others,” Buffy suggested, anxious to make sure her friends were okay.

She was also anxious to find out what was going on, but she knew she’d have to loose Angel before she could go snooping around.

”Uh, Buffy, it’s pitch black in here. How are we going to find them?” Angel asked dubiously.

”Oh, uh,” Buffy thought quickly, “I remember where the table is! You have to remember, I’ve been coming to the Bronze for years! I know this place like the back of my hand.”

”If you say so.” Angel clearly had his doubts.

”Trust me,” she said with conviction as she grabbed Angel’s hand.

Pulling him towards the table, Buffy silently thanked whatever powers existed for the keen eyesight and increased night vision that came with the ‘Slayer package.’ They allowed her to see shapes and outlines even in such inky darkness and, as a result, she and Angel were able to avoid bumping into most of the people and furniture that stood between the dance floor and their table.

Arriving at the table, Buffy came to a sudden stop, causing Angel to bump into her. The unexpected collision knocked them both off balance. Struggling to regain his equilibrium, Angel reached out to steady himself but, instead of coming into contact with the table as he had hoped, his hand connected with soft, rounded flesh. Realizing just what he had grabbed, he snatched his hand away quickly thankful that the gloom covered his furious blushing.

“Sorry! Didn’t know you were stopping.”

”Buffy? Angel?” Willow’s voice floated to them in the darkness.

”Yeah, Will,” Buffy answered, “It’s us. Are you guys okay?”

”Yeah, we’re fine,” a male voice answered for Willow. “Is Doyle with you guys?”

”No, Riley, he…” The ringing of his cell phone interrupted Angel. Punching the ‘on’ button with more force than necessary, he greeted the caller tersely, “What? Yeah, power’s out here, too. We’re at a club called ‘The Bronze.’ Huh? Oh no, just Finn, Gunn, Gates, and Doyle. Well, everybody but Doyle, he went to take a call before the whole place went dark. Right, well, we’ll round him up and head back.”

As Angel spoke, Buffy started to feel the cramp-like sensations that always let her know when a vampire was nearby. With a sigh, she felt for the stake she had tucked away and slipped quietly away from the table. She hoped this unscheduled slayage wouldn’t take long and she’d be back with the group before anyone noticed she was missing.

”What’s going on, man?” Gunn asked Angel.

”Uh, that was Graham; he’s back on campus. Power’s out over there too; we should find Doyle and head back,” Angel said.

”Well, it’s about time someone suggested leaving!” Cordelia declared. “Sitting here in the dark is *so* not my idea of a good time. Buffy, Willow, are you guys ready to go?”

”I’m ready,” Willow agreed.

”How ‘bout it, Buffy?” Cordelia asked. Receiving no answer, she sighed. “Earth to Buffy!”

Feeling the empty space around him where the blonde had been standing, Angel spoke up.

”I don’t think she’s here, Cordelia.”

***

”I should have known better than to think I’d get a whole night off,” Buffy groused as she neared the Bronze’s front door, “this union thing is looking better and better...”

Following her instincts, she was nearing the entrance when she heard it, the fading sounds of a struggle and labored, shallow breathing.

Looking ahead and to her left, she was able to see the outline of two people. Buffy didn’t need to see the glowing amber eyes of the vampire to know who was who. One of the ‘people’ appeared to be leaning over the shoulder of the other, holding his prey upright.

Deciding this was not a time for quips, she clutched her stake tightly and approached the vampire and its victim from behind. Without hesitation, she thrust her stake into the vampire’s heart and hurried through the settling dust to check on the vampire’s victim. From the way the wounded man had fallen when the vampire disintegrated, she knew that, whoever he was, he was definitely unconscious,¦ and possibly worse.

Grabbing the man’s wrist, she checked for a pulse. After a few seconds, she found one. It was weak, but steady, and she breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t been too late.

Speaking to the man reassuringly, she tore a strip of cloth from her shirt and used it to apply pressure to his neck wound.

Looking back in the direction of her table, she raised her voice, “Willow! Cordy! Somebody call an ambulance!”

***

”Did you hear that?” Cordy asked.

”Hear what?”

”Somebody call an ambulance!”

”That was definitely Buffy!” Willow said as she scrambled out of her chair and towards the direction of Buffy’s voice, clutching Cordelia’s hand. The others weren’t far behind.

”Buffy? Where are you?” Willow called out as she bumped into chair, causing her to stumble.

”By the front door! Did you call an ambulance, Will?”

”I’ll call 911,” Riley said, pulling out his phone and started dialing.

He hung back, speaking to the emergency operator as the rest of the group went on ahead.

”Buffy, are you hurt?”

”I’m fine, Willow,” Buffy reassured her anxious friend, “I found a man who’s hurt.”

”What happened?” Gunn asked.

”I-I don’t know,” Buffy lied, “He was laying here on the floor and I tripped over him. He must have hurt himself after the lights went out. He’s bleeding pretty badly.”

”Oh!” A light went on for Cordelia. “You mean it was a va…”

”Vandal!” Willow shouted as she clamped her hand over Cordy’s mouth, effectively shutting her up. “Darn those vandals!”

”Uh, yea,” Buffy began, but was interrupted by Riley’s voice.

”The ambulance is on the way. They should be here in about three minutes.”

Buffy was about to respond when, without warning, the lights came back on.

Momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness, everyone had to blink a few times to adjust to their eyesight.

”Oh my God.”

With those three words, all eyes turned to Buffy and the man that lay bleeding in her arms.

”Doyle!”

Before she could register what was happening, Buffy was pushed aside as Angel and Riley kneeled beside their wounded fraternity brother. Lifting the blood soaked cloth from Doyle’s neck, Angel noticed the two distinctive holes in his friend’s neck.

”Did you see who did this?” he asked Buffy angrily.

”No, no, I didn’t,” she stammered. “I just found him like that!”

Seeming to accept her answer, Angel turned his attention back to Doyle as Riley applied a fresh strip of cloth to the Irishman’s neck.

”Are you sure you’re not hurt, Buffy? Did you fall? Because you look a little dusty.”

Startled by the question, Buffy looked up to see Gunn standing over her, extending a hand to help her to her feet. Accepting his hand, she studied his face carefully. He wore the same friendly statement he had earlier, but she could clearly see the suspicion in his dark eyes.

Trying to decide how to answer, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the paramedics rush in and start treating Doyle. Thankful that Gunn’s attention was no longer focused on her, she watched, worried, as the EMTs minister to Doyle. She knew he’d lost a lot of blood, but she was hopeful. The medics had arrived quickly and he was young. She really hoped he’d be okay, even though she’d only known him for a day, she genuinely liked Doyle. Watching as the EMTs, with unsolicited help from Angel and Gunn, maneuvered Doyle onto a stretcher, Buffy heard the ringing of a cell phone.

Looking around, she spotted one that she assumed to be his a few feet from where she’d found him earlier. Hurrying, she scooped it up and flipped it open to answer it.

”Hello,” she said a little breathlessly.

”Put him on the phone,” a woman’s angry voice shouted at her.

Suddenly not sure this was Doyle’s phone, she asked the irate woman, “I’m sorry. Who are you trying to call?”

”Doyle. Allan Francis Doyle,” came the curt response from the other end of the connection.

”Oh!” Surprised, Buffy hesitated a moment, not quite sure what to tell the pissed off woman. Making up her mind as she watched Doyle, strapped down on a stretcher, being wheeled out of the building, she informed her, “He really can’t come to phone right now. Can I take a message?”

”Fine,” the other woman sighed wearily. “Whatever. Just tell him his wife called.”

***

Walking into the brightly lit ER, Willow looked at Buffy sympathetically. The slayer was biting her nails nervously and looked as though she wanted to bolt from the room. Linking an arm through Buffy’s, she led the blond toward the information desk and asked, “Are you sure you want to do this? I know you’re worried about Doyle, but you hate hospitals.”

”No, it’s okay, Will,” Buffy lied.

Taking in the dingy white walls and the battered and scarred metal seats occupied by the sick and injured or by the distressed friends and family of the sick and injured, she felt far from okay. The vague antiseptic smell that tainted the air reminded her of Celia, her favorite cousin Celia’s hospital room had that smell and it just seemed to grow stronger the sicker she had become. Even now, years after Buffy had defeated the monster that ultimately killed Celia, that smell sent shivers up and down her spine.

Trying to shake off her unease, she looked around the crowded waiting room nervously, searching for any sign of Doyle or his friends before looking back at Willow. Seeing the look of concern on her friend’s face, she clarified. “Okay, so hospitals still give me *major* wiggins,” she shrugged and continued, “but it’s, it’s not as bad now. Really. Besides, I’m worried about Doyle. He was so pale, Will, and I don’t even know how long...”

”Can I help you?” The harried receptionist interrupted her impatiently.

”Oh, we’re looking for a friend that was brought in by ambulance a little while ago.”

”What’s your friends name?”

”Doyle.” Buffy responded as the woman sorted through a stack of medical charts on the desk.

”Ah,” she stopped, and opened up one of the files from the middle of the stack. “Doyle, A.F. Neck trauma and blood loss, right?” Not looking at the girls for confirmation, she closed the file and set it back down on the pile. “You can have a seat with the others,” with a wave of her hand, she gestured at the back of the room, where Angel and Riley could be seen. “Someone will let you know when there’s news,” she informed them as she turned her attention to the next person in line.

”Well, let’s go sit, Willow.”

Leading her friend through the packed waiting area, Buffy checked her watch.

It had been nearly an hour since she’d found Doyle. He’d been carted away in an ambulance less than ten minutes after that, and the drive to the hospital was a short one, no more than another 10 minutes. If the doctor’s hadn’t brought any news after nearly forty minutes, it was probably a good sign.

Suddenly needing reassurance, she asked Willow, “It’s a good sign, right? I mean it’s been nearly an hour and if there’s no news yet. Then, at least he’s still right?”

Giving Buffy a quick hug, Willow tried for an optimistic tone, “He’ll be okay, Buffy.”

Buffy flashed a sad smile, “Thanks, Will. It’s weird. People get attacked by vampires all the time in Sunnydale; a lot of them die. I always feel guilty about it, but usually they’re just faceless victims. It’s so much harder to deal with when you know the person.”

Reaching the back of the waiting room, Buffy settled into a seat across from Riley, giving him a sympathetic look as Willow sat down beside her. Turning her attention to Angel, she couldn’t believe how different he looked now. His hair was sticking up all over his head in unruly spikes and he was drawn and pale; none of the vitality she’d felt radiating from him earlier was present. Bathed in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the ER he looked thoroughly washed out. His obvious distress added a fresh new layer to the guilt she was already shouldering. Since she didn’t know how to comfort him without resorting to lies or platitudes, she didn’t even try.

”Angel?”

”Yeah?”

”Have you… Uh, did they say anything yet? About how he is?”

”It’s bad, Buffy.” Angel answered gravely.

”Oh God! He’s not…”

”The doctor’s haven’t told us anything,” Riley interjected, trying to calm Buffy while shooting an exasperated look at his friend. “Angel rode over with him in the ambulance, but we don’t really know anything yet.”

“Oh.” Not knowing what else to say, Buffy settled back in her seat and waited for news.

She was nearly asleep when she finally heard someone call Doyle’s name. Blinking away the lingering exhaustion, she noticed Willow dozing next to her even as Angel bolted out of his seat and raced to the front of room. Riley turned to her and extended his hand,

”Coming?”

Deciding to let Willow rest while she could, Buffy nodded and took his hand, allowing him to lead her.

They arrived at Angel’s side in time to hear him assure the doctor that Doyle had no family in Sunnydale.

“Look, Dr. Wolfe, his whole family is still in Ireland. We’re,” he gestured at Riley and back to himself, “his fraternity brothers at UCS. How’s he doing?”

Looking down at the chart in his hand, the doctor rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve tension. He suspiciously swept his gaze over Buffy and Riley before locking eyes with Angel again.

Meeting the young man’s gaze levelly, Dr. Wolfe cleared his throat and began, “Your friend suffered rather significant blood loss. Over a third of the blood in his system was lost and very rapidly by all indications. When he arrived, he was already in the throes of hypoglvcemic shock and acute post hemorrhagic anemia. His body’s natural responses had already kicked in and there was decreased tissue perfusion in the peripheral organs.”

”Wait!” Angel interrupted. “Laymen’s terms, please. What’s wrong with him? Is he going to be ok?”

”Right, laymen’s terms,” Dr. Wolfe sighed, "When patients have serious traumatic blood loss, the cells are deprived of oxygen and begin to die. Their blood pressure drops, their organs begin to die, and finally, the patient dies.”

Listening attentively as the doctor painted the bleak picture for them, Angel became even paler and Buffy gasped when the man matter-of-factly made this last announcement. Riley merely nodded.

Feeling queasy, Buffy sank numbly into a vacant chair as Angel did the same. Seeing the stricken look on his face, she reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as the doctor continued speaking.

”Mr. Doyle lost nearly half the blood in his body, which is bad enough, but he also lost it *extremely* quickly, which only made things worse. Because of the rapid blood loss he went into severe shock. His body started to shut down... It happens pretty frequently in cases where there’s severe traumatic blood loss. To compensate, his body stopped supplying as much blood to the peripheral organs,” seeing blank looks on the faces staring back at him, Dr. Wolfe clarified, “such as the kidneys and pancreas, in order to maintain the function of the vital organs: heart, lungs, brain. Our first step was to administer a purified hemoglobin solution to reintroduce as much O2 into his bloodstream as quickly as we could. Then we began rapidly infusing whole blood to restore his blood pressure. We’re also pushing saline and antibiotics intravenously. The puncture wounds on his neck are relatively clean, considering the amount of blood loss, the wounds are fairly shallow and there’s not going to be any residual tissue damage. We’ve updated his tetanus shot, to be safe. We’re doing everything we can for him.”

Tightening his hold on Buffy’s hand, Angel asked again, “Is he going to be okay?”

”We won’t know for sure until he regains consciousness and we can determine if there’s any mental impairment. We’ll also need to continue monitoring his organs for a few days to be sure there’s no lasting damage. But, given the fact that he’s made it this far. I’m optimistic. If you’ll excuse me, there are other patients waiting.”

Sagging visibly in relief, Angel closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Letting his head hang for a moment, he took a deep breath before turning his head to look at Riley.

”Will you call and let everyone know he’s going to be ok?”

”Don’t you think we should wait, Angel? The doctor said he’s optimistic, but that’s not a guarantee.”

”Look, just call and give them the update, will you, Ri?” Angel snapped.

Opening his mouth to reply, Riley saw the look of frustration on his friend’s face and decided not to push. Instead he just nodded and pulled out his cell phone, walking away as he dialed.

Still gripping Angel’s hand tightly, Buffy looked at him and smiled.

”I’m glad he’s going to be okay,” she said.

”Me, too,” he sighed, absently tracing the contours of her hand with a finger.

”You seem very close,” Buffy continued, “Is your whole fraternity that way?”

”Yeah, we’re all pretty close, but Doyle. He’s really more like a brother to me.”

”He seems like a great guy,” Buffy offered.

”He really is, you know.”

”Uh, guys?” Willow interrupted as she walked hesitantly toward them. Looking sleepy and a bit disheveled, she held up a cell phone, “There’s a phone call for Doyle but, it can’t be the same Doyle, cause she says she’s his wife. What should…”

She didn’t get the chance to finish her question before Angel was on his feet. Releasing Buffy’s hand, he quickly snatched the cell phone out of Willow’s grasp.

”Harry? It’s Angel. No, he can’t talk right now.”

”Oh God!” Buffy bolted out of her seat and down the hallway with Willow, still shaking of the last vestiges of sleep, chasing after her.

***

Catching up to her distraught friend by the vending machines, Willow put a hand on Buffy’s arm.

”Are you okay?”

”He’s really married, isn’t he?” Tears threatening, she looked at Willow for confirmation.

”Well,” the redhead hedged, “Maybe not. She could have just said that. I mean, I can call up Giles and pretend to be his wife if someone else answers the phone, too.”

”No, Angel knew exactly who she was when you said wife. She must really be his wife, Will. God, she even called earlier, when they were putting him on the stretcher, but I didn’t want to believe her.”

Not sure what to say, Willow just gave Buffy a hug.

”I have the worst luck with dating,” Buffy lamented.

”That’s not true; if your date’s human, I’ve still got you beat,” a familiar voice sounded from behind them, “There was the praying mantis teacher, the mummy girl, my vengeance demon Prom date, and, oh yeah, let’s not forget Cordelia!”

Turning around, Buffy and Willow were surprised to see Xander standing there.

”Xander?” Taking in his appearance, Willow asked, “What happened to you? Are you okay?”

”Oh, you mean all this?” he grinned, gesturing to the bandages on his head and his black eye. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a few stitches and a black eye from my ‘Welcome back to the Hellmouth’ car accident when I got back into town tonight. It’s cool though-- chicks dig scars, right? They’re manly, aren’t they?”

”Right,” Willow agreed, “Very manly!”

”Wait. ‘Welcome back to the Hellmouth’ car accident? What do you mean?” Buffy asked.

”Oh! Well, I was driving back into town when something ran out onto the road in front of my car. I thought it was a person, so I swerved and ended up hitting a tree. Turns out I shouldn’t have bothered.”

”Huh? Why would you say that, Xan?”

”It wasn’t a person, Buff, it was a demon, a great big scary scaly demon running out of the museum with a bunch of his scary scaly demon buddies...” Trying to lighten the mood he teased, “I’m guessing a certain Slayer’s been slacking off this summer,” but at Buffy’s glare he quickly amended, “or not.”

”Did you say they were coming out of the museum? A bunch of them?” Willow asked. At Xander’s nod, she turned to look at Buffy, “Buffy, we need to get to Giles.”

”You’re right, Will,” she sighed, “A bunch of demons at the museum and a citywide power outage are definite signs of an impending research party.”

Linking arms with both Xander and Willow, she steered them out of the hospital, “Let’s go start saving the world… again”

***

***

Unable to tear his eyes from the alarming manifestation before him, the horrified Watcher stammered, "I-I… I'm sorry. You say the demons came f-from where, Xander?"

"Giles! Stop staring and pay attention!" Willow admonished.

"Yeah, Giles! Demons? Power outage? Hellmouthy near death experience for yours truly?" Xander prompted helpfully. Frustrated by the lack of response, he sighed. "Can we take this inside, please? I'm starving," he declared, pushing past the older man and into the tidy apartment.

"Xander, for Heaven's sake! It's nearly three am, this isn't a Denny's!" Unable to take his eyes off the abhorrence at his front door, Giles was powerless to prevent Xander from making his way into the kitchen. As the sound of the cupboards opening and closing reached his ears, he reluctantly bid farewell to any hope of sleep.

"Uh, Giles? Can we come in?"

"Ah, yes, Willow. Yes, of course, it's just… Never mind. Please, do come in." Giles shook his head and moved aside to hold the door open so the girls could enter. As they trailed past him and into the living room, he continued to stare at Cordelia in confusion. In the years he'd known her, he'd seldom seen her look anything short of immaculate; even in the aftermath of fierce and bloody battles with demons she'd managed to look polished; yet here she was, clad in baggy gray sweat pants, an old Sunnydale High sweatshirt, with some sort of green substance all over her face. The long brown hair that normally looked as if she'd just stepped from a salon was piled on her head in dozens of sections, each fixed with a tie-dyed strip of cloth. Calling the change in her appearance bizarre was akin to calling the Amazon a stream and he couldn't help but gawk.

Following Xander into the kitchen, Buffy noticed her Watcher's fixation and elbowed him forcefully in the side as she passed. The jolt startled him enough to pull his gaze off Cordelia, but not before the grumpy brunette noticed.

"*Why* are you staring at me? Haven't you ever seen a woman at 3 am before?" she griped as she plopped down in the nearest chair.

Gulping down a bite of the ham sandwich he shared with Buffy, Xander couldn't pass up the opportunity to take a crack at the lone adult in the room, "Cordy, it's Giles! He probably hasn't."

"Well, that doesn't excuse it! I thought the English were supposed to have manners," Cordelia huffed.

"Yes, well, the English are also *supposed* to be asleep at this hour, Cordelia. Instead I find myself awake and it appears I've the 'less-than-incredible Hulk' in my living room while 'Shaggy' raids my kitchen." Giles retorted tiredly.

"HEY! Do you think pores like mine just happen?" Cordelia yelped, self-consciously putting a hand to her mud-packed. "If I didn't do this once a week, I'd have skin like Buffy's!"

"What?!" Buffy was indignant, "What's wrong with my skin?"

Enjoying the chaos after his three-month absence, Xander grinned over a mouthful of sandwich, "Whoa, Giles! A pop-culture reference? What *happened* this summer? Did you get cable?"

Moving between the two men, Willow waved her arms to get their attention. "Hello? Guys? Aren't you forgetting something? Like… Oh, I don't know….the demons?! World in peril and all that..."

"Thank you, Willow," Giles shot her a grateful look. Clearing his throat he got down to business, "Can we return to the matter at hand?"

"Yes," Cordelia agreed, "what's so important you dragged me out of bed? It better be good because I'm missing out on my beauty sleep!"

"Well, we ran into Xander at the hospital."

"Hospital? You ran into Xander there?" Giles looked bewildered for a moment, giving both Willow and Buffy an once-over, "Are you hurt?"

"No, we're fine," Willow assured him, "we were there to check up on Doyle."

"Is Doyle the married guy?" Xander asked, trying to sift through the facts he'd heard from Willow on the way over.

"MARRIED?" Cordelia shrieked, turning to face Buffy. "He can't be married!"

"Oh, but he can," Buffy sighed.

"Huh?"

"His *wife* called while we were at the hospital, Cordy."

"Wait just a moment," Giles, clearly shocked, broke in with a gasp. "Am I to understand that Buffy's involved with a married man?"

He looked around at the group gathered in his home, trying to catch the eyes of the room's occupants. No one said a word, all studiously avoiding his gaze. Unnerved by the revelation, he took off his glasses and began polishing them absentmindedly as he focused his attention on the dejected blonde. "What on earth were you thinking, Buffy?"

"Whoa, Giles," Xander jumped up, quick to defend his friend. "Lay off her. She didn't know he was married."

"Yeah!" Willow spoke up, "And you can hardly call her involved! It takes more than a conversation at the Bronze to be involved, doesn't it?"

"Right!" Cordelia chipped in brightly, "Besides, she hasn't talked to a guy other than Oz all summer so, *definitely* not involved."

Turning to Willow she pondered, "Why isn't she involved? I mean, we all know she's a freak of nature, but guys can't usually sense something like that. At least not until you've been out a few times. And it's not like she's hideous!"

"Uh, guys? Still in the room," Buffy raised a hand in the air and waved it, rolling her eyes at her friends' antics. Turning to look pointedly at Willow and Cordy, she stated, "And, from now on *don't* help me. Please. Can we forget about my latest dating disaster and move right along to the non-Buffy portion of tonight's entertainment?"

***

Standing in the doorway of the Intensive Care Unit's waiting room, Gunn took a moment to study his squad leader. Angel sat alone in one of the chairs near the window, staring impassively into the darkness. He was clearly exhausted, with dark circles beginning to show beneath his eyes, hair completely disheveled, and a hint of dark stubble. His pants, which had been neatly pressed earlier in the evening, were rumpled; smudges of dirt showing on the knees where he'd knelt at Doyle's side while waiting for the EMTs to arrive. His dark shirt was wrinkled and, like Riley's, Gunn knew the front of it would be stained with the blood of a man Angel considered his brother.

"Well, how's he doing?" Gunn asked as he slid into a chair next to Angel, handing him a cup of coffee.

Putting down the two year old copy of 'National Geographic' he'd been leafing through and gratefully accepting the offered cup, Angel turned to face his friend. "Well, he's stable. He's still unconscious, but he's breathing on his own again. Dr. Wolfe seemed pretty upbeat last time he gave me an update. Said once Doyle wakes up, they'll only need to keep him a few days. That is, as long as he wakes up and there's no brain damage."

"I'm not too worried. What are the chances he damaged the tiny fraction of brain mass he uses anyway?" Gunn tried to joke, but at Angel's wan smile he became serious again. "He'll be fine, Angel."

Smiling gratefully at the comforting words and determined to think positively, Angel nodded and took a sip of the hot drink.

Leaning back, Gunn stretched out his legs before propping them up on the table in front of his seat.. Trying to keep Angel's mind off Doyle's condition, Gunn tried another tack, "What happened to the groupies?"

Creasing his brow in confusion, Angel asked, "Who?"

"You know, the chicks - Buffy and the redhead, Willow. Riley said they were here right after Doyle got brought in. He also said you and Blondie were holding hands."

"Oh, yeah. They were here," he admitted, feeling ashamed. He could still remember the feeling of her delicate hand in his larger one, the warmth that had spread through him at her touch…

"Well?" Gunn's impatient voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Well, what?"

Gunn sighed and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling tiles as he took a deep, calming breath; Angel's reticence could be maddening at times, but he was still a good friend. "Where are they now and why were you holding hands?"

"They're gone. I think Buffy got upset so they took off."

"You think she got upset? Why? I thought she was here when the doctor gave you the update."

Bemused, Angel glanced at his frustrated friend, "What? Did Riley give you a briefing?"

"Matter of fact, he did," Gunn nodded. "Walsh insisted he brief the whole unit on what went down before he took his team out to recon."

"Wait, *everybody* knows about the hand holding?" Angel demanded, mortified. It was bad enough realizing that he was attracted to the woman Doyle had set his sights on, having anyone else know about it. He didn't even want to think about it.

"Oh, that," Gunn grinned at the obvious distress on his friend's face, "No. Give the man some credit. He just told Graham and Forrest. Graham told me while they were suiting up and now I'm giving you shit about it." He paused before adding, "So, what's the deal, man?"

Looking into his expectant face, Angel realized something: "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Gunn shook his head emphatically, watching as Angel ran a hand through his already mussed hair. He didn't even try to contain his grin as the story unfolded.

"Hold on," he shook his head as Angel finished the story of the night's events. "You mean, Doyle's still married? I thought his divorce was supposed to be final last week!"

"It was." Angel confirmed.

"Then what the hell is the problem?" Gunn exploded. "This has been going on for a year and half now. The divorce is taking longer than they were actually together, Angel!"

"I know. Harry said Doyle missed a signature somewhere in the stack and the judge refuses to finalize anything until he gets a document with all the I's dotted and all the T's crossed. Harry's beyond pissed. She's getting married in the Bahamas next month and she needs all the paperwork to send down there to get a marriage license."

"I really couldn't care less about Harry's problems," Gunn spat. "Most people wait until their first marriage is over before jumping into the second. I can't believe she's so anxious to get remarried. Can't be good for Irish's ego."

"Well, Doyle didn't seem to mind too much," Angel reasoned with a shrug. "Sure, it took him forever to accept that the marriage was really over, but once he did. Hell, last time he talked to her, he was helping Harry plan the seating arrangements for her reception. No, what's going to bother Doyle is Buffy."

"You mean aside from the fact that you've been putting the moves on her?"

"She thinks he's married now. As in 'cheating bastard' married. I don't know if she's going to give him the time of day agai…" He trailed off suddenly, his tired brain finally processing Gunn's last statement. Eyes wide, Angel stared at Gunn as if he were seeing him for the first time. "Is that what you think?"

"No, calm down. That's *not* what I think," Gunn reassured, realizing his attempt at humor had fallen flat. Holding up a hand in a placating fashion, he continued, "That's not what he'll think, either, if that's what you're worried about. I was trying to be funny. Normally, man, you'd laugh at something absurd like that," he paused at that, obviously mulling something over before gaping openly at his co-worker. "Which means you *want* to put the moves on her!"

"What? NO!" Angel quickly denied the accusation. Unable to sit any longer, he got up and paced the waiting room. Avoiding eye contact with Gunn, he quickly changed the subject. "You said Walsh sent men out? Did they find anything?"

Gunn considered for a long moment, debating whether or not to pursue his line of questioning. Noticing the resolute statement on Angel's face, he discarded the idea, opting to wait for a better time. Taking pity on his exhausted friend and filing his questions away for later, he filled him in.

"So, Riley's team found some dust at the scene. The lab guys analyzed it and determined that it *was* a vamp and not just poor housekeeping. Riley's clothes had some dust on them too. I guess from where you all helped get Doyle on the stretcher. It matched. So, we can safely assume the HST that bit him is history. What we still don't know is how the HST was eliminated. Professor Walsh is operating under the assumption that Doyle had a weapon on him and staked it just in time to save himself. I don't think he had anything on him, though, so I don't buy it," he stated firmly as he thought about all the dust he'd noticed on Buffy at the Bronze. He didn't buy her story about falling one bit and he planned to do a little digging in the morning. Looking at Angel, who still hadn't said a word, he continued, "But, I guess we'll know for sure when he wakes up. In the meantime, Walsh is working on getting him transferred out of here so that our medical team can supervise his care, but I don't think she's having much luck.

The power outage seems to have been citywide and there's no explanation for that yet. Aside from the power outage and a robbery at the museum, it seems to have been a pretty normal night."

"By Sunnydale standards," Angel muttered.

"Right, by Sunnydale standards." Gunn agreed. "Anyways, we're looking into the break-in, just in case, but so far we've got nothing. The cops are crawling all over the place so we can't get a close enough look without drawing attention to ourselves. The analysts are monitoring the PD's databases and communication, but their department has yet to file any reports on the robbery and they're pretty incoherent on the radios. The only thing we've picked up was a report of a traffic accident near the museum right around the time of the burglary, but they don't seem to be related. Probably just some local not paying attention."

Taking it all in, Angel considered for a moment. "Is that everything?"

"We're sending a few people to the museum tomorrow to poke around, but other than that," Gunn held up his hands and shrugged, "That's it."

***

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Xander looked from the book in his hand to the bookcase, trying desperately to remember where he'd gotten this specific volume. The bookcase was overflowing with ancient leather-bound texts and, to his weary mind, one musty, rotting tome was the same as the other.

"Giles and his stupid 'system,'" he muttered, thinking about how particular the older man was when it came to his precious books, "Using the old 'anal retentive librarian' cover was genius."

Deciding he was about as likely to win the Publisher's Clearinghouse as he was to find the right spot for the book, he made a bold decision. Sneaking a furtive look over his shoulder to make sure Giles wasn't paying attention; he thrust the book onto a shelf at random. Turning, he quickly made his way back to the sofa and sat down heavily.

Raising an eyebrow at the empty-handed young man, Giles asked, "Xander, you don't think you should search in another book? We need to figure out what sort of demons you saw."

There was a moment of silence before Xander's loud groan. "Giles. It's been hours and I've looked through everything but the 'Necronomicon.' I don't think we're going to find anything this way."

"Everything but the what?" Cordelia questioned.

"The Necronomicon? Ya know, Ash, Deadites." Glancing around the room that contained nearly his entire social circle, he noted the perplexed looks on their faces. Realizing they had no idea what he was talking about, Xander moaned, "I really need some guy friends!"

"Uh, Xander's right." Closing her own book with a thud, Buffy looked up to meet the surprised stares of the Scoobs. "About not finding anything this way! Although, a few studly man-friends wouldn't hurt," she grinned. "I'm exhausted, Will's asleep on whatever book she's supposed to be reading..."

Xander, thrilled to have Buffy on his side, saw his chance to escape further research.

"I say we call it a night," he suggested as he made his move for the door.

"Perhaps that's best," Giles agreed, "Although you will need to look into the museum incident tomorrow morning, Buffy. If we find out what they were after, we may be able to discern what type of demon we're dealing with."

"Exactly, and we can put Willow to work on the net. I'm sure she can get us copies of the police reports so we can find out about the power outage. Oh and we can check if there was any other 'gang' activity last night."

***

"Remind me again why I'm here," the tired brunette groaned, critically studying her manicure.

"Because you asked to come, Cordelia," Buffy sighed. She'd gotten less than three hours sleep the night before and she was *not* in the mood to deal with her friend's griping.

"Oh. Right," Cordelia yawned and checked her watch, grimacing when she noted it wasn't even nine am. "I should still be in bed. What was I thinking?"

Raising an eyebrow, Buffy looked over at the brunette, "I was just asking myself that same question." Ignoring the glare directed her way; she grabbed her friend's arm and pulled her quickly towards the museum, scanning the building for an acceptable entryway. "C'mon! We have to find a way in."

"Can't we just use the door like normal people?" At Buffy's disbelieving stare, she continued defensively, "What? It's after eight. It's open. Other people are going in." She gestured at a noisy group of students making their way up the stairs, "I mean, unless you want to make everything harder than it has to be."

"Fine," Buffy interrupted, adding sarcastically, "We'll go in the front. Happy now?"

"Hey! A cranky Slayer is nobody's friend, Buffy."

"You know what?" Whirling to face the other girl, Buffy spat, "Bite me, Cordelia!" As soon as the harsh words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Taking a good look at her friend for the first time that morning, she realized that Cordelia hadn't gotten any more sleep than she had. As a Slayer, Buffy was used to long days, longer nights, and little sleep, but Cordy… Well, if the dark circles under her eyes and the never-ending yawns were any indication, Cordy was feeling the effects of their late night and early morning; despite her obvious exhaustion, she'd still offered to come along to the museum.

Softening her stance, she apologized, "Look, Cordy! I, uh… I mean, we had a long, lousy night and I-I'm taking it out on you when you were nice enough to get up and drive me here. I'm sorry."

Quirking an eyebrow at the blonde, Cordelia clarified, "Wait. Did you just apologize?"

"Yeah," Buffy sighed, already regretting the apology.

"Whoa. It really must be the end of the world," Cordelia smirked. Smiling, she gave Buffy a quick hug. "It's okay..."

"Thanks for understanding, Cordy."

"Oh, totally. I mean, I'd be crabby too if I had your social…"

"STOP!" Buffy cried, clapping her hands over her ears. "Ahh! I mean it! Leave it at 'thanks,' okay? No more," she was gesturing wildly with her tanned arms as Cordelia opened her mouth to continue.

The slayer begged shamelessly "Please? Please, just let it go, Cordy."

"Fine, little Miss Melodrama. I was just going to say how much it sucks that you finally meet a 'nice' guy and it turns out he's married."

"Yeah, well, in my book that whole married thing pretty much keeps him out of the 'nice' guy category," Buffy stated, walking into the museum behind Cordelia.

"True, I guess. Uh, do we know what we're looking for?"

"Well, clues," Buffy answered, scanning the room. "I don't see anything that screams 'Demon,' though."

"Yeah, nothing slimy in sight." The brunette grinned at Buffy's groan, "Oh, come on! You know you were thinking it!"

Shaking her head, Buffy began to wander through the spacious lobby of the museum, her slim heels clicking on the marble floor as Cordelia trailed close behind. Making their way towards the back of the building, Buffy noticed a large doorway, partially hidden behind a massive Japanese screen. Squinting, she made out yellow police tape on the doorframe.

"Bingo. This way, Cordy." Leading the way, Buffy glanced around discreetly; trying to make sure no one was paying attention to them, before slipping behind the screen to open the door. Easing inside, she waited for Cordelia to follow before silently shutting the door.

***

"Hey, move your ass!"

"Look, if you're in such a hurry, you should have just come without me. I wanted to stay at the hospital anyway," Angel groused but quickened his pace to keep up with Gunn as they strode through the museum's expansive lobby.

"I already told you, man, I was under strict orders to get you out of there," Gunn shook his head, slowing his steps to allow Angel to catch up.

"Oh yeah? Well next time, you can just tell Walsh to stick it up."

"Wasn't Walsh…" Delighting in his friend's confused reaction, Gunn grinned as he continued, "The doctors told me to get you the hell out of there. All that glaring was scarin' the nurses. Besides, Graham's there right now. When Doyle wakes up, he'll give us a call."

Sighing, Angel fell into step beside Gunn. He knew he should be at the hospital right now but he didn't want to argue the point with Gunn, again. Since he'd woken up an hour and a half ago, they'd discussed it four times; he didn't feel up to round five. He still wasn't sure how he'd been maneuvered out of the ICU, but before he knew it, he'd found himself back in his bathroom at Lowell House. Groggily, he'd stepped into the steamy shower and leaned heavily against the wall, allowing the cascade of scalding water to sluice down his tired body as he thought about the events of the night before. Images of the Bronze, the blonde, and Doyle's bloody body flashed through his mind as the water did its work waking him up; invigorating him. Lathering, he made a decision to dress and return to the hospital, determined to sit with Doyle until the Irishman regained consciousness. Less than half an hour later, he'd been following Gunn up the stairs of the Sunnydale museum, wondering how his well-formed plan had gone to hell so quickly.

"Since we've tapped in the PD's database, I don't see the point of this little trip," he complained as they hurried toward the back of the building. Making their way around the gleaming display cases and avante' garde brass sculptures that littered the capacious room, both men cautiously scrutinized their surroundings, alert for any signs of danger. They passed a dazzling display of Japanese paintings before coming to a sudden stop as they noticed two women slipping behind a large Shoji. The translucent, wood lattice panels highlighted their shapes as they eased open a door and disappeared.

"Did you see who that was," Gunn demanded, turning to face Angel.

Even without the slow flush that was heating his body, Angel knew he'd recognize her anywhere. That tiny figure, the flash of long, golden hair.

Meeting Gunn's gaze, he nodded his affirmation, "Buffy. And Cordelia."

"I knew it! I knew there was something off about her," Gunn muttered, moving towards the door intent on confronting the little blonde. He'd only gone a step when he felt Angel's iron grip on his arm, pulling him back. Looking into Angel's face, he saw the statement he recognized from many nightly missions. Angel was in full 'Initiative Mode' and, friendship or no, he'd be giving the orders.

"Whatever you're thinking, Gunn, stop. You can't just go in and publicly accuse two civilians."

"I wasn't gonna do it in public, Angel. I was gonna do my accusing behind closed doors. That closed door right there," he clarified, pointing at the entryway behind the screen.

"Gunn!" Angel's tone was heavy, warning packed into the single word.

"Look, she was there when Doyle got hurt."

"We were all there when Doyle got hurt," Angel cut in defensively.

"Yeah, but she found him! She had his blood on her *and* she had vamp dust all over her." He looked at Angel, making sure his words were sinking in, "I know you and Doyle got a thing for this chick, but she knows *something* and I'm gonna find out what it is."

"Okay, fine. Maybe she *is* hiding something," Angel ignored Gunn's snort at his phrasing and continued on, "but we have to be careful. If you go in there and accuse her, you either blow our cover to a bunch of civilians or you blow our cover to someone who's involved with this incident. Let's just follow them and play it cool. If they don't tell us anything, we let them go and have them checked out, okay? We can pull their files once we leave here."

Following Angel behind the screen, Gunn grumbled, "My way's more fun."

Stopping at the door, Angel shot his friend an amused smirk before gesturing for silence and slowly opening it. Motioning for Gunn to follow, he stole inside and watched as his friend quietly shut the door behind them. Content to wait until they either learned something incriminating or were discovered, they studied the girls from their place by the entrance.

***

Surveying the room, both girls winced at the destruction before them. Near the edge of the devastation, a broken sign heralded the exhibit as one of 'rare artifacts from the native tribes of the Americas.' Beyond the sign, the floor was littered with glass from the overturned display cases and the artifacts lay scattered and broken amid the shards. In the center of the chaos, a large print was visible on the floor.

"Is that a footprint? Uh, did Xander mention that these things have six inch claws on their feet," Cordelia asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she studied the print. Cocking her head to the side, she examined further, "God, these things have *huge* feet! I thought Xander had big feet, but wow! This is like two feet long. And where did this mud come from," she asked, poking at the crusty substance

"Uh, I don't think that's mud."

"What? Of course it's mud. What else would it be?"

Gingerly holding up a long, jagged glass shard covered in the same brown substance, Buffy answered softly, "I think it's blood."

"Oh! Eww!" Horrified, Cordelia jumped up, frantically wiping her hands on the front of her blue jeans before rummaging through her purse. "I knew I carried hand sanitizer for a reason!" Pulling out the tiny bottle of Purell, she poured a huge dollop on her palm and began rubbing her hands together vigorously.

Feigning sympathy, Buffy shook her head, trying to hide her smirk. Concentrating on her task, she continued to search through the ruins of the exhibit. Trying to determine what, if anything had been stolen, she carefully matched up artifacts with the placards that identified them. After a few minutes of obsessive disinfection, Cordelia decided to lend a hand. Slowly eliminating items, they ended up with only one card that didn't have a matching artifact.

"Well, I guess now we know what they took," Buffy noted, casting another glance around the room to be sure they hadn't missed anything.

"Huh." Peering over the tiny blonde's shoulder, Cordelia looked at the placard. "What is it? It looks like a piece of wood with two bears carved at either end." At Buffy's shrug, Cordelia snatched the card from her hand and began reading it aloud, "It says it's the 'coletor des almas,' and, eww. It's not made of wood, it's made of bone. God, could these people have been any more disgusting? Who makes something out of bone, anyway?"

"That is pretty whack!"

Both girls jumped at the unexpected sound and spun to face its source, Cordelia quickly hiding the index card behind her back as she turned.

"So much for slayer senses," she hissed quietly, elbowing Buffy and trying to pass her the card. Buffy shot her a pointed glare and snatched it. Stuffing it into her back pocket, she tried to think of an explanation to satisfy whoever had walked in on them. When she saw who it was, she sighed inwardly.

Leaning back against the door, his arms crossed in a show of nonchalance despite watching them intently, was Gunn. A few feet to his left, hands in his pockets and studying the fallen sign, stood Angel.

"You ladies are here early," Gunn stated, still leaning against the door, effectively blocking the only viable exit.

***

TBC…

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