A/N This is an idea I had whilst watching a reaction video to 'The Yoko Factor' - what if Angel got taken by the Initiative when he visited Sunnydale? The trouble is - by 'The Yoko Factor' - the answer would be 'not much', because he would get released in the battle in the very next episode. So I backdated the story to his previous visit - Episode 8 'Pangs.' It was an idea that just hit me (actually it hits me every time Angel shows up in season 4, but this time I'm writing it down), and I'm writing it on the fly. As yet, I have no idea how long it will be, when I will update, or even what will happen. I will be as surprised by events as you are. I'm just seeing where the characters take me.

I imagine all pairings will be the canonical ones, though I don't know how much each character will feature in the story. I have an inkling that there will be some residual Cordelia/ Xander angst (though I don't want to promise anything) and I can't see it working out well for Buffy and Riley, what with him kidnapping her ex and everything. But we shall see what we shall see. I don't know how much BAngel will be a factor, but there almost certainly won't be any CAngel, as that just isn't canonical for this season.

Obviously, i'm not Joss Whedon. I don't own anything (well, i mean, i have a car and some books - but I don't own any of the intellectual property of the Whedonverse).

Enjoy!

Hunger, Longing, Jealousy and Guilt

Chapter 1

The three commandos stalked their way through the woods. They were dressed in full camo and had paint smeared across their faces to help them blend in with the trees. Of course, if they bumped into a coed, they were wicked conspicuous - but the Thanksgiving break was upon them and most students were back in their halls packing for home. The soldiers were unlikely to bump into any citizens of the campus of the human variety, but blending in with the background made it easy for them to sneak up on demons. And they had good cause to want to be sneaky.

'Man I'm beat,' Graham complained.

'We'll do one more sweep and then cash it in,' his team leader told him. The third member of the squad came to a standstill and scanned the clearing. He looked annoyed. 'I gotta pack tonight.' He glanced at Riley, 'did you manage to get a flight?'

'Wednesday night,' Riley told him. Late night, as well. He would be touching down in Dubuque very early on Thursday morning. His Gramps would pick him up at the airport, and then it would be more than a two hour drive back to the homestead. He'd get there just as his Mom put the turkey in the oven. And then 24 hours later he'd be making the return journey - back to his other family. A very short Thanksgiving, he'd spend almost as much time on the aeroplane as he would with his folks, and Forrest commented as much.

But Riley shook his head. 'Hey, with a hostile on the loose we're lucky to be going home at all.'

'He's neutered,' Forrest argued. 'The implant's working great; he can't hurt a single living thing.'

'As long as he knows about the Initiative, he's a threat,' the team leader countered. He knew it was a pain, patrolling this close to the holiday - looking for one escaped hostile, when they wanted to be packing and leaving for home. But their work mattered. The Initiative was important, and secrecy was paramount. Forrest was skating dangerously close to insubordination. 'We do this the professor's way,' Riley told him.

Forrest began to cough into his hand, 'momma's boy.'

'That's a pretty nasty cough there,' Riley said to him, his tone pleasant with a hint of a warning. 'You might need to spend the weekend in quarantine.'

'Uh - no I'm done coughing.'

Riley clapped him on the shoulder, 'I just don't want anyone getting si…'

The scanner in Graham's hand started going off. 'We've got a cold one,' he told the others.

'Is it the HST?' Riley wanted to know, 'is it Hostile 17?'

'No visual as yet,' Graham began to step through the clearing, following the signal, 'cannot confirm which hostile sub-terrestrial is in the area… but no body temperature, it's looking like a vamp.'

'Man, I hope it's 17,' Forrest said, as the team began to take up positions.

But it wasn't to be. Hostile 17 was short of stature, and slender of build. And most noticeably: peroxide blonde of hair. But, as they reached the edge of the clearing, the vampire that came into view was tall - and dark. His long, black trench coat billowed out behind him.

As the soldiers crept towards him, he seemed to sense them, as he turned to look in their direction. Riley raised his gun and fired. Bolts of electricity streamed out and hit the HST square in the chest. Graham and Forrest added their own fire and, as the volts jolted through him, Angel found himself paralysed and crashed down to the ground.

Cautiously, the three commandos approached the downed vampire. 'This one's a pretty one,' Forrest said, nudging the incapacitated HST with his foot. 'Yeah?' said Riley, 'I'm not looking to date him - tag him.' And the little squad of soldiers bagged up their captured vampire and took him back to base. The night might be a failure, as far as Hostile 17 was concerned, but hopefully Maggie would be proud of them for bringing in another...

When Angel came to, he found himself locked in a glass cage. There was an identical cage just opposite him, and that housed a Krathlak demon. From what he could see of the corridor, that ran in between, it was blindingly white and sterile looking. Humans in white lab coats, carrying clipboards, walked up and down the corridor, stopping off at the different cages. The vampire seemed to be in some kind of secure containment facility - and a very well funded one at that.

Two soldiers, their guns slung across their backs, marched past - ignoring all the demons, and the scientists that studied them - as they went. Angel remembered - from decades ago - the work of Nazi scientists, experimenting on demons in the hope of building a super army. And he remembered that the American Government had been trying to steal their research - whilst pretending to only be interested in stealing their u-boats.

They hadn't got their hands on the research, back in the 40s - Spike had destroyed it. Nor had they got their hands on any of the vampires they were hoping to experiment on. But, from the looks of things, they hadn't given up. 50 years later, the vision of the Man in Black and his Demon Research Initiative seemed to live on. And they had finally caught Angel in their snare.

He didn't have time for this! Buffy was in danger. Doyle's vision had been vague, non-specific, but there was some threat to the slayer and the PTB wanted him back in Sunnydale to help her out. Nothing else mattered. He slammed his hands against the glass wall of his cage, in frustration. It was electrified, and he was immediately knocked back, as the charge ran through him. He vamped out to counter the pain.

'Well what do we have here?' A middle aged, female scientist appeared at the glass wall, and smirked in at him. She began to take notes on her clipboard. 'A large vampire, an impressive capture. You're the pretty one they brought in.' She quirked her eyebrow at his vampiric features, 'but you look just like every other animal we have in here, to me.'

Xander lay on his bed groaning - he felt like death. He heard footsteps on the stairs, coming down to the basement, and a little part of him hoped it would turn out to be the grim reaper - come to end his suffering. But it was only Anya. 'Xander, what are you doing?' she asked, when she saw him laid out on the bed. He pushed himself up, and tried to bend down to put his shoes on - but he was stiff and sore and everything ached. 'You're supposed to be digging. I went to watch you digging, and you weren't there doing it.'

'I'm going there now, I'm just - having trouble getting started this morning.'

The former demon put her hand to Xander's head - and then gasped as she felt how warm and clammy it was, 'oh -you're sick! Well, you can't go to work.' She pushed him back down onto the bed, and he thumped back with another groan. 'You're pasty and wet and disgusting,' she said to him, 'they can dig without you.'

'I'm really not that bed.' He was. God, he felt awful. But this construction job was a good one, he didn't want to lose it… not unless he was granted the sweet release of death.

'I inflicted a lot of putrefying diseases back when I was a vengeance demon,' Anya said to him, as she stripped his shirt off him, 'and you look like you're coming down with all of them.'

'OK - I'll stay, but you should go, you might catch it.'

'Then we'll die together - it'll be romantic!' She sounded very happy about the prospect.

'You're a strange kind of girlfriend,' he mumbled. There was a slight pause - and then, 'I'm a girlfriend?'

Cordelia sighed, as she cleaned out the coffee filters and then recycled the grounds. The coffee would be gross today, but they couldn't afford to use fresh everyday - not if they wanted to keep the lights on. She was getting better at having to economise, but that still didn't mean that she liked it.

She glanced, hopefully, in the direction of the phone - but it remained obstinately silent. Though, it wasn't just paying clients she was hoping to hear from, today. Angel had driven back to Sunnydale last night, as soon as it got dark - and Cordelia wanted to hear from him to check that he was OK. Or, more to the point, to check that he wasn't evil. She sighed again, she really really would never have invited him over to her place if she had realised just how quickly he would be haring off back to Sunnydale… and Buffy.

The front door to the office opened and she looked up, hoping for the briefest moment that it would be a client walking through the doors. But it was only Doyle sidling in - late. 'Hey, princess,' he said, when he saw her stood there, 'I wasn't sure if y' were comin' in today - what with Angel …'

'This is a business and we still need to run it,' she told him, keeping her voice brisk. 'Just because Angel is off fighting the big evil doesn't mean we don't still have bills to pay.' She looked at the Irishman with tentative expectation, 'I don't suppose your arriving here means you had a vision? Of a client? With a Mastercard?'

But her friend just shook his head, 'sorry darlin', no mind wrenching head cracking vision migraines for me today - so far. Which is probably a good thing.' He sank down onto the green sofa and wriggled out of his jacket, 'I mean, if I get a vision of some poor hopeless type being attacked by a giant slime monster - what are we gonna do about it?'

' Nothing - except be afraid and die. Anyway, I don't want slime monster vs damsel in a dark alleyway. They can't pay. I want wealthy heiress whose had her Grandmother's diamond necklace stolen by demon worshipping cult members, and is willing to pay hefty bushel loads of cash for our tracking it down. We could do that by ourselves.'

Doyle smiled, warmly, 'well, I'll get right on that.' But instead of having a vision of a millionaire socialite and her missing diamonds, he instead lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes. Cordelia frowned at his shoes resting on the upholstery, and knocked his feet back down to the floor.

'What did y' do that for?'

'I've already cleaned the office this morning,' she told him, 'I've swept all the dust under the rug, and moved the paperwork around on the desks, and…' she slapped his feet back down, as he raised them up again, 'shook out the cushions on the sofa. If you must lie there like a giant Irish lump - contributing absolutely nothing - then at least take your shoes off first.'

He slipped his shoes off and put his feet back up. Cordelia nodded in satisfaction and moved away. Doyle had closed his eyes, once more - but once she was at the other side of the room from him, with her back turned, he pried open one eyelid and snuck a peek at her. She looked beautiful. She always did, of course, but right now her long hair was swishing about -trailing slowly across her exposed skin, as she watered the plants.

The Irishman frowned. 'Uh - not that I mind - but why are y' so busy today - cleanin' and such?'

'It needs doing.'

'Yeah - it always needs doin'. You don't normally do it - at least not all in one go.'

'Well - uh - with Angel out of the office, I thought today might be a good day to get on with it. When he isn't clogging up the place, all crabby scowl and morbid gloom.' She put the watering can down, gardening finished, and turned around looking for something else to do. Noting Doyle's jacket sticking out from under him, where he had shrugged it off, she pulled it off the sofa and hung it up by the door. Then she scanned the room for something else to sort out. Doyle raised an eyebrow at her, 'Cordy, what's wrong?'

'Nothing's wrong. Why would something be wrong? Can't a girl just want to work in a tidy office, for once?'

He pushed himself upright, and fixed her with a stern gaze. 'I'm not buyin' that. What's up?'

'Nothing!'

'Cordelia!'

'Fine.' She exhaled deeply, and flung herself down on the sofa next to him, giving him a dirty look. 'If you must know - it's Angel.'

'What about him?'

'He's in Sunnydale!'

Doyle nodded slowly, like he didn't quite understand what the problem was. 'Yeah - the higher powers sent me a vision. Sunnydale is where they want him. Why is that making you clean things all of a sudden?'

'He's gone to see Buffy!' she said, as if her problem should be immediately clear to anyone - as if, if Doyle had any sense at all, he too would be manically tidying the office in response to Angel's current whereabouts.

'He's gone to protect Buffy,' Doyle corrected.

Cordelia snorted. 'Protect. See. Bone. It's all one with them. She'll be in danger and he'll save her and then she'll fall into his arms and before you know it, Angelus will be on the rampage again. And once he's killed Buffy and the gang -he's gonna come straight back here for me! And even if he doesn't kill us - once he's evil, we're still out of a job...I'll lose my apartment. I'll be homeless and destitute. I'll have to turn tricks, I'll...'

'Cordelia!' Doyle's voice cut through her ever increasingly desperate monologue. 'I think y' might be gettin' ahead of yourself just a wee bit there, yeah? One disaster at a time… and there hasn't even been a first disaster, yet.'

'Not yet, but it's only a matter of time - Buffy -'

'And Angel split up for a reason,' The Irishman interrupted. 'And those reasons are still there. Sure, it might be difficult to see each other again, sure there might be … temptations. But y' gotta trust that the big man will do what's best. They dated for three years and from what I can work out, slept together once. He should get a medal in abstinence. I really don't think there's any danger of him…' he waggled his eyebrows, 'gettin' fleshy with young miss puppy eyes, just 'cause he's gone back for a visit.'

'You're right,' Cordelia nodded, trying to make herself believe what Doyle was saying. 'Angel knows what's at stake here. He can keep Buffy safe and make sure he doesn't get into trouble himself,' she suddenly looked at Doyle, hoping for confirmation, 'right?' she demanded.

'Absolutely. He'll be back before we know it.'

'Right.'

'Right.'

Angel sat in his cage, slumped against the cold wall. He'd been here for hours. He had no idea what danger Buffy was facing, or even whether she was still safe for now. She had been up in her room in the dorms. He had stood beneath her window - he had seen her, just for a moment, as she had peered out into the night. He had felt that familiar draw, like he was being physically pulled towards her - his whole being yearning for her. But then she had vanished from the window - and the commandos had taken him.

And he had no idea how long he had been here, what time it now was, whether it was day or night, or if Buffy was still alive. He could have failed his mission already, as he languished in this cell. But there was no way out that he could see. Not unless a scientist unlocked the door and he could overpower them. But even then, could he escape a secure facility when he had no idea where the exits were?

At first, he had paced in his cage, repeatedly hitting against the glass wall and getting knocked back by the volts of electricity. He had yelled at the woman scientist who had examined him through the glass. That had got him nowhere. Then he'd gone still, and tried to come up with cunning escape plans - but each one had been more improbable than the last.

And now he had accepted that, for the meantime at least, he was trapped. And if escape was possible, then he would have to wait patiently for an opportunity, and then play it by ear. But he was frustrated - and angry. How could The Powers have sent him to Sunnydale only to let him get kidnapped by a secret military operation? It seemed to him like they should have been paying better attention, have had his back whilst he did their bidding back on the hellmouth. If they wanted him to protect Buffy, then they should have been able to keep the military off his back whilst he did it. Otherwise, why bother sending Doyle the vision? Just to torment Angel? Threaten Buffy's life and then leave him unable to help her? Was this some sick new way of making him atone?

He closed his eyes. Even more than he was frustrated, he was scared. Scared for Buffy. Scared that he would fail her - that he had already failed her. Scared of the unbearable pain that this unknown danger would cause him if it was successful in ending Buffy's life. How could Angel live, knowing that Buffy had died because he hadn't been there to save her? He needed to get out.

There was a sudden beeping sound, which made the vampire open his eyes to look, and a panel in the ceiling slid back. A plastic packet of blood dropped to the floor, right next to where Angel was sitting. He eyed it warily...