One Shot

by Mediancat

Buffy crossover AU. Riley comes to LA to chat with Angel about Buffy but something goes horribly wrong, and now, as Buffy tries to find Angel, Giles and Wesley are trying to find her . . .

Author's Note: This is a story I had long thought lost, but which a friend of mine was nice enough to find for me.

This AU takes place after Restless but before To Shanshu in LA.

Also: Buffy is not portrayed in the best of lights -- but this is not Buffy-bashing. I don't do that. Towards the end of Buffy's fourth season -- especially given Buffy's behavior in the two late-season crossover episodes with Angel -- I thought Buffy was getting somewhat more reckless and out of control.

This is not a path the show's writers chose to follow. But I think you can see it in the relevant episodes.

Disclaimer: Joss owns all. I own nought.

X X X X X

Riley Finn surprised Angel in his bedroom one night. The former soldier was holding one of those taser rifles Buffy had told him about.

Angel said, "Riley, what are you doing here?"

The normally calm and collected Riley Finn came across the room and stopped about ten feet away. Then he pulled out a cross as well, pinning it onto his shoulder. At this distance it couldn't affect Angel, but it made it difficult to get close.

The rifle, of course, also made it difficult. A couple of shots from that thing and he'd be down for the count.

"What the hell are you doing?" Angel said.

"Making a point," Riley said. "Look. I know you and Buffy parted on good
terms but I'm not quite sure that's enough."

"I'm still fairly sure she doesn't want me dead," Angel said, stepping forward.

Riley pulled the trigger on the rifle, once, and fired it. Angel, of course,
went down like he'd been blackjacked. Then Riley went over to Angel's twitching
body. "I'm not going to kill you," he said quietly. "Buffy wouldn't
stand for that. I came here to talk with you. To ask you to stay away from her in the future. You've caused her more pain than
you've brought her joy."

Angel slowly started to stand up, and Riley didn't stop him.

Then they were both startled to hear a voice from behind Riley. "Oh my God, what –" Riley
turned his head and saw a tall, dark-haired woman on the stairway. She held a
crossbow. "What the hell are you doing!"

And then Riley made his mistake. He spun around, still holding the rifle in a
firing grip.

X X X X X

The intruder standing over Angel's body turned towards her holding a gun.

Not a chance in hell. Praying for a lucky shot, Cordelia let the crossbow bolt
fly.

It struck the intruder – Cordelia didn't care where – and he went down. Then
Cordelia ran over to Angel. "Are you okay?"

Shakily, Angel said, "Yeah, I think so. What happened to Riley?"

Riley? That had been Buffy's Riley? "I don't know –"

It was only then that Cordelia noticed the blood pooling beneath his body.
Angel ran over to him and grabbed his wrist. Then he looked at the location of
the wound and paled, ripping open the shirt around the protruding bolt.

"Should I call 911?" Cordelia said, panicking.

"Don't bother," Angel said grimly. "It was a clean shot – right through the
heart. He's dead."

X X X X X

Giles, numb, spoke into the phone. "Wesley, are you certain? No, of course
you're certain. Thank you for calling me first."

Then he hung up.

Dear god.

Riley was dead.

And of all people, Cordelia had killed him.

He had to find Buffy. Quickly he dialed the phone.

She wasn't at the first place he tried.

Willow had no idea where she was. Neither did Xander. Finally inspiration struck
and he called Joyce.

"Yes, she was just here," she said. "She needed to borrow money – something
about getting to Los Angeles as fast as possible. Why?"

"How is she getting there?"

"By bus – there's one leaving the terminal in fifteen minutes."

"Meet me down there. We have to stop her from leaving."

Puzzled, Joyce said, "Why? What's the problem?"

"No time. I'll explain when we get there." And then he hung up.

Fourteen minutes later, Giles pulled into the parking lot of the bus terminal.
Joyce Summers was standing impatiently by her SUV. "Okay, now, what's the
problem?" She asked.

"Riley's dead."

"Oh g—"

"And he died in LA – from a crossbow bolt to the chest – in Angel's apartment.
Now we really must try to stop Buffy from boarding that bus." And he began to
run into the terminal.

A hard grip on his arm stopped him short. "Why should I want to stop her, then?"

"Because," Giles said exasperatedly, "Angel didn't kill him. But if I know Buffy
she'll assume he did."

Joyce nodded her head. "Right." Then she looked at her watch. "The bus leaves
now."

They ran through the building – Giles actually jumping over the turnstiles while
Joyce explained that "their daughter" had forgotten her medication – only to
discover no bus to LA sitting there, or even one pulling away. When he got back
to the ticket counter Joyce said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Giles. It left five minutes
ago."

"Of course it did." It was all Giles could do to keep from slamming his fists
into the wall in frustration.

"It's okay," Joyce said. "Let's just see if we can beat her there. And for god's
sake let's use my cell phone to call in advance. The last thing we want is to
have them not be ready for what's coming."

Giles could do little but agree.

X X X X X

"Alright," Buffy said as she kicked in the front door of Angel's office, "Where
is he?"

Wesley was sitting behind the desk fielding a phone call. "I'll have to get back
to you," he said and hung up. Then he stood and walked over towards the office
front. "Where is who?" he asked.

"Don't play games with me, Wesley. I'm not in the mood for twenty questions.
Where is that murderous ex-boyfriend of mine? Boy, just when you think you can
trust someone –"

"Not here."

"I said, don't mess with me."

"And I said, not here," Wesley said as he stood up. Wasting no
time, Buffy picked him up and flattened him against the wall. "Taking your cues
from Faith these days, are you?"

"What?" Buffy demanded.

"If you'll let me down, I'll show you." Wordlessly, Buffy let go. Wesley took a
few deep breaths and slowly took off his suit jacket, then his shirt.

Even as angry as she was, Buffy winced when she saw the bruises and healing cuts crisscrossing
Wesley's chest. "What –"

"Faith spent hours working me over. It still hurts when I breathe too deeply, so
I would appreciate it if from here on you would refrain from battering me around
the office. "

"I'm sorry, Wesley. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Apology accepted," Wesley said. "Now believe me when I say he's not here."

"I don't," Buffy answered firmly.

An annoyed tone in his voice, Wesley said "Well, you're going to have to get
past me to look," and walked over in front of Buffy's path downstairs.

Without hesitation, Buffy walked over and threw a punch at his face. Wesley
flinched, but didn't dodge the blow, which stopped less than inch from his nose.
"You're not the same Wesley I knew, are you?" Buffy said.

"No."

At which point Buffy gently picked Wesley up, put him to one side, and walked
downstairs into Angel's apartment. Five minutes later she came storming back
upstairs. "He's not here," she said grumpily. "And half the room is sealed off
with police tape."

"Did you think I was lying?"

"Of course I thought you were lying."

And Wesley smiled. "Exactly. Now if you'll be so kind as to show yourself out, I
have work to do." And he sat down – painfully – and reached for the phone. Buffy
glared at him for a few minutes. Wesley sighed and said, "Miss Summers, I have
tolerated your behavior because of our past association and the present circumstances. I truly am quite sorry about the death of your gentleman friend.
But if you do not leave this office within five minutes I will call the police
and have you arrested. Do I make myself clear?"

Buffy looked at him again. "You're really not the same Wesley I know."

"Thank you for the compliment. Now if you'll excuse me –"

What choice did Buffy have? She left.

X X X X X

"You have been involved in or connected to more deaths –" Detective Kate Lockley
began.

"I know," Angel answered. "I wish it didn't have to be this way." He sat down
wearily on the other side of Kate's desk.

"I mean, it's something of an incredible story. And I know what you are so I
know what incredible really means. Your ex – was that the girl who was here when
Faith Lehane turned herself in?" Angel nodded. "Okay. Heard you guys had a nasty
fight on the way out of the station. Sorry about that, by the way."

"We sort of made up later."

"Really?" Kate said, eyebrows raised.

"Not that way. I went to Sunnydale and we both apologized."

"Okay. Does she know about your . . . . dark side?"

"A bit too intimately." He paused. "By the way, thanks for not pressing Cordelia
right now."

"I've been a cop ten years, Angel; I studied criminal psychology heavily in
college. I'm not saying I can't be fooled but it's rare. And if Cordelia Chase
meant to kill Riley Finn I'm a lugnut. Keeping her here would have done no good
at all."

"Thanks –"

Kate continued as though she hadn't heard. "Doesn't mean there won't be charges
eventually, although at this point I doubt it. She confessed to firing the shot,
from all we can determine Finn WAS holding the rifle on you – a rifle he stole
from his last post, by the way. Riley Finn was considered a deserter from the
army, did you know that?"

"Yeah. Found it out when I visited Sunnydale. I may as well tell you, he and I
slugged it out when I visited. Never really made our peace."

"Thanks for the info. Anyway, the taser rifle looks like a bullet weapon from a
distance, you have burn marks on your chest from the electrical charge, and all
the other physical evidence points to her as well, and points to self-defense."

"This is good to know. Thanks for all the assistance, Kate."

"The only thing you have to thank me for is that it's me did the questioning and
not someone who doesn't at least have some idea of your past history. I didn't
do this as a favor for you."

Angel smiled. "I know. That's part of what makes you a good cop."

Kate frowned. "Are you trying to kiss up to me?"

"Not my style."

"Yeah," Kate sighed, "I've noticed. Now look. Like I said, your story seems to
check out but we still have some work to do."

"Is this where you tell me not to leave town?"

Kate snorted. "Too cliché."

Angel stood up. "One more thing – could I ask you a favor?"

"Of course you can ask."

"Meaning you might not grant it."

"Meaning get on with it. This isn't TV where I only work one case at a time. I
have a shitload of other things I could be doing right about now."

"If my ex shows, tell her you haven't seen me."

"The blonde?"

"Yeah. She's pissed at me. Thinks I killed Riley. We're trying to slow her down
long enough for someone to talk some sense into her."

"Will do." Angel turned to leave. "By the way –" Kate added.

"Yes?"

"Don't leave town."

Angel smiled briefly as he left.

Joyce Summers was briefly surprised when she saw the apartment building – nicer
than she expected. But now wasn't the time. She walked inside and upstairs and
knocked on the door. After a few seconds it unlatched and swung open . . . but
on the inside no one had opened it. Weird.

Going inside, she called out, "Cordelia?" No one answered. "Cordelia?" She said,
a bit louder.

Still nothing. Joyce moved around the apartment, not trying to be quiet because
she didn't want to surprise Cordelia. She repressed a horrid thought about
crossbows. Not in the front . . . so time to look towards the back.

And there she was in the bedroom, lying on the bed, hunched under the covers and
staring blankly at the ceiling even though it was May and around 80 degrees.
"Cordelia?" Joyce said softly.

"Mrs. Summers," Cordelia said blankly, not otherwise moving. "What are you doing
here?"

"Comforting you," Joyce said. "Since no one else around here seems to care – I
mean, they left you alone!"

"Angel, Wesley – not very good at comforting. And I'm not alone. I have Dennis."

"Dennis?"

"My personal friendly ghost." As if to confirm this a soda can on the nightstand
moved a couple of inches to one side and then the other.

"Hello, Dennis," Joyce said, and the atmosphere in the room grew marginally
cheerier. "But still – there are some things a ghost can't do." And she reached
towards Cordelia.

"Don't touch me," the girl said, sitting up in the bed.

"Why not?" Joyce asked.

"I don't deserve it. I killed someone. I killed Buffy's boyfriend." Cordelia
sounded as drained as Joyce had ever heard her.

"By accident, Cordelia, by accident."

"No. He was threatening Angel – and I shot him. I was trying to hurt him." She
sounded anguished. How dare Angel and that other man, Wesley, have left her
alone.

"Yes. Yes you were. But –"

"One kill leads to another. Didn't you know that?"

Momentarily nonplussed, Joyce said, "Cordelia, I hardly think –"

Again interrupting Joyce, Cordelia said, "Did you learn NOTHING from Faith? I
mean, we know how it works. Kill one person, the next becomes easier. And the
next, and the next, until you betray your friends and end up in LA begging a big
broody vampire to kill you! I don't want that to happen to me."

There was nothing Joyce could say.

But this time Cordelia didn't refuse the hug.

Buffy walked into the police station and into the main office area before anyone
could stop her. She said, loudly, "I'd like to talk to whoever it is
investigating the murder of Riley Finn."

A tall redhead with a mustache said, "That'd be Detective Lockley. But –"

"Thanks. Where can I find her?"

Evidently feeling it was easier to placate the crazy woman than get rid of her,
the man said, "Back that way," while pointing towards the offices. Buffy nodded
a brief thanks.

She knocked on the door while opening it. A blonde woman of around thirty
looked up at her and frowned. "Yes?" the woman asked.

"Are you Detective Lockley?" Buffy demanded.

"The same. Who are you and why do you think you have the right to come into my
office without asking?"

"My name's Buffy Summers. I'm the girlfriend of Riley Finn, and I'd like to know
what you're doing to find the man who killed him."

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss, Miss Summers." The Detective made it sound
like Buffy had just misplaced a book. "But we already know who killed him. And
it wasn't a MAN at all."

Something . . . "Hold it. You know Angel isn't a man?" Suspiciously.

Blinking, Lockley said, "Well, yes. But that's not what I was talking about . .
. ."

"Good. Then I suggest a nice east-facing cell. One with a REALLY nice window
view." Buffy unconsciously echoed the detective's words of a month or so back.

"Oh, really?" Lockley said acidly. "And how would you suggest I explain the pile
of ashes that used to be a prisoner?

"Spontaneous combustion. Angry hit man with flamethrower next cell over. What
the hell do I care? He killed my boyfriend, and I want him dead."

To Buffy's surprise, the detective laughed. "You've got guts."

"How so?" Buffy was confused.

"Not many people would have the balls to charge into a police station and
ANNOUNCE their intention to kill someone."

"It's not murder if they're already dead." Buffy spat out the words.

"I know Angel. Morally it would still be murder." Lockley seemed a little
ticked. "And you're wrong anyway."

"Really." It was not a question.

"Yes. Angel didn't murder Riley Finn."

Buffy echoed, "Really."

"Really. As far as the police are concerned he was shot in self-defense."

Interrupting, Buffy said, "He told you that and you believed him? God. Well, if
you're not going to help me I guess I'll have to find him myself." Buffy stormed
from the office and slammed the door.

And so she didn't hear the rest of Kate's description: " . . . by Cordelia
Chase."

X X X X X

The phone rang at Angel Investigations.

"Hello?" Wesley said. "No, detective, Angel isn't here right now, would you like
me to take a message? . . . right then. Thank you for the call." He hung up the
phone and turned to the office's other inhabitant. "That was a friend of ours in
the Los Angeles Police Department, Detective Lockley by name. She says that
Buffy was there not twenty minutes ago, angrily demanding that they pick up
Angel and, well, 'stick him where the sun shines really brightly' was the phrase
the detective used."

Rupert Giles stood up. "So Detective Lockley is . . . aware of Angel's true
nature?"

"Fully. In any event, she gave me to understand that Buffy was still in rather a
towering fury."

"I can hardly blame her, given the circumstances of Riley's death." Giles
shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

"You did believe my account, didn't you?" Wesley asked. The elevator began
moving upwards.

"Yes. Not that I think it's impossible for Angel to take a human life – but he
wouldn't do by shooting them with a crossbow, he'd do it with his bare hands."

The elevator door opened. "It's nice to see I still inspire such confidence."

Giles turned to look at the emerging Angel. "Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"Not at all. It's just embarrassing to think of myself as that transparent." He
looked around the office, most pointedly at the front door. "That Buffy's work?"

Wesley nodded. "Indeed. You may have also noticed her attempts to redecorate
your apartment. I felt it would be intruding to clean up. In addition –" and he
unbuttoned his shirt, showing fresh bandages, as well as healing bruises.

Giles said, "You mean Buffy . . . .?"

Quickly catching on to Giles' misapprehensions, Wesley hastened to say, "Oh,
good heavens, no. These wounds happened when Faith tortured me. But in her enthusiasm
to find Angel's whereabouts she did have occasion to smash me against the office wall.
That aggravated the injuries."

"I see. Still, it worries me that Buffy would do this –"

Wesley said, "Hasn't she been known to harm humans before? This Willy the Snitch
character, I was told –"

"Willy is a known consorter with the forces of darkness," Giles snapped. "You
are an ex-Watcher long since firmly established on the side of good. Hardly the
same thing." Giles sighed. "The reason I'm worried is that Buffy has been acting
a bit . . . not herself lately."

"You've noticed that too?" Angel asked. "When she came up here – to protect me
from Faith, supposedly – she was very harsh. Not just to Faith, but to me as
well. I think she honestly was going to kill Faith if I hadn't intervened."

Quietly, Wesley said, "It's not as though she didn't have cause."

"Cause for the desire, yes," Angel said. "Cause to actually do it? I'm not so
sure. The Buffy I know wasn't a murderer."

"What about the events of Graduation?" Wesley asked. "Buffy was quite ready to
kill Faith then."

"For a direct cause. Not simply for revenge," Giles answered. "And now her
belief – her mistaken belief – that Angel killed Riley has sent her shooting up here to
kill him in turn. Not to find answers – but to kill him. Flat out. I have no
idea why her behavior has changed – but I do know it needs to be stopped.
Before –"

Angel said, "Before she winds up like Faith."

X X X X X

Buffy was getting more and more frustrated. Everywhere she turned she kept
getting the runaround. Wesley evaded her questions and threatened to have her
arrested, the detective kept not giving her straight answers . . . . and no one
on the street seemed to know anything.

It was the disadvantage of not knowing the territory. LA really was Angel's
city, and he knew it a lot better than she did.

And obviously he knew how to hide, because he was doing a bangup job of keeping
out of Buffy's way.

It was so damned annoying that she found herself hoping that she'd run across a
vampire attack, just so she could have something to hit. Something to kill. But
so far, not a demon, not a vampire, nothing. Not even a mugger or other random
human lowlife. And Buffy didn't get her jollies by pounding brick walls.

So where to go from here?

Well, pounding the streets wasn't doing her any damn good, that was sure.

And then the answer hit her.

Obviously.

She'd tried the office, she'd tried the police station . . . .

Time to try Cordy's.

Wesley started. "Surely you don't think Buffy's going to end up like Faith?"

"Not exactly like Faith, no," Giles said. "But given the way she's been giving
in to her emotions, her impulses – "

"Faith's major flaw," Angel commented.

"Exactly," Giles said. "Especially the darker ones. Those of violence to Faith,
nastiness to you, to me and Willow and Xander –"

"Really?"

"Yes, although as it turned out Spike had been manipulating us all," Giles
added with a trace of embarrassment in his voice. "And we've since made up.
Still –"

"Still." Angel's voice had some finality to it.

Wesley cleared his throat. "I feel I must remind you all that, though we have
been as of now successful in avoiding the brunt of Buffy's wrath, it's not
something we can evade forever. Unless, Angel, you were planning to hop a
late-night flight to Kuala Lumpur?"

"No such plans," Angel admitted.

"Then what do we do?" Wesley asked both of them.

The necessity of planning was averted by an abrupt ring of the office phone.
Angel reached it first. "Yes?" He made a shushing motion and Giles and Wesley
quieted down. "I understand. We're on our way." He hung up. "That was Joyce
Summers," the vampire began.

Jumping to the correct conclusion, Giles said, "Buffy's shown up at Cordelia's."

"Good guess."

"We aren't going anywhere," Wesley said. "Buffy still has plans to turn you into
vacuum cleaner residue, remember? I have no intention of letting you anywhere
near her apartment." He reached into a box and pulled out a crossbow.

"And were you planning to shoot Buffy with that?" Giles asked incredulously.

"Of course not," Wesley responded placidly. "But it may prove useful to appear
that way. Right now she doesn't appear to be listening to sweet reason."

"Need I remind you," Giles said acidly, "That one of them going off accidentally
is what started this situation?"

In silent response, Wesley fired the crossbow into the far wall, then swiftly
reloaded and buried the second bolt in the middle of the first. "I'm not as
incompetent as you seem to believe, Mr. Giles. So far you have treated me like
an adult. A peer. Please do your best to keep it that way. Now Angel –"

But he'd vanished.

"Bloody hell," the ex-Watchers said in unison.

X X X X X

Joyce and Cordelia had been talking quietly for half an hour; Cordelia had
seemed very grateful for someone to unburden herself to.

"But," she'd told Joyce firmly, "Don't go and blame Wesley and Angel. I've been
numb ever since it happened. Angel helped me with the police. Can you believe
me giving one-word answers? Me?"

"I don't think anyone's going to hold it against you, Cordelia," came Joyce's
answer.

"I know they're not. But I expect better things from myself than grunts and
groans. Has anyone told you I get visions?"

"Um . .. no."

"Well, I do. Not that I want them, but that's neither here nor there. The first
time I got them I was in the middle of an audition. And even though my head felt
like it was about to go nuclear I, by God, said all the lines of the ad. And now
this happens and I go all monosyllabic."

"Given what happened . . . .'

"I'm trying not to have to deal with the fact that I killed someone right now,
okay? Get with the program!"

"Um –" Joyce sounded a bit wounded.

"Sorry. But if I stop too much right now I'll drift right back into that same
funk I was in when you found me. And I hate myself that way even more."

Joyce smiled. "I think I understand." There was a knock at the door. "You
expecting anyone?"

"No." Joyce walked to the front door and looked through the peephole. Then she
tiptoed back to the bedroom fast. "It's Buffy!"

"And she doesn't know you're here."

"Mr. Giles and I were chasing after her, it was hardly the time to give her an
update on my plans –"

Cordelia grimaced. "Not being critical." Then she swung her legs over the side
of the bed and stood up. "Look. You stay in here and call Angel. Hide in the closet
if you have to. I'll –" She took a deep breath – "I'll deal with Buffy as best I can."

"Sure you're up to it?"

A hollow laugh. "I'm an actress. I have to be up to it." And as Joyce huddled
against the wall and dialed Cordelia walked wearily to her front door. "Yes?"

"Cordy, it's Buffy. Open up."

"What – what do you want?"

"I'm looking for that murdering ex-boyfriend of mine." Around this time Cordy
regretted telling Buffy to ever get in touch with her anger.

"I guessed as much. Come on in." Cordelia swung open the door and the Slayer
walked in.

"Took you long enough." Buffy walked past Cordelia and began looking around the
apartment.

"Hey! I don't recall offering you the grand tour. Not that I mind seeing you
and all, but I'm really not up for company right now."

"Don't worry, I won't keep you," Buffy said. "I'm just looking for a killer."

Heavily, Cordelia said, "You don't need to look any further, Buffy. Your killer
is here."

Obviously not noticing the tone in Cordelia's voice, Buffy said, "Good! I knew
he couldn't hide long. Where is he? I know it's not the balcony . . . " Behind
Buffy, Dennis had picked up a soda can and was getting ready to lob it at
Buffy's skull.

"Dennis!" Cordelia hissed. "No! She's a friend. An insane one right now, but
still –" A scream of alarm from the other room. Cordelia walked in and found
Buffy looking in her closet –

at Joyce, of course.

"Alright," Buffy demanded, "would one of you mind explaining this?"

X X X X X

"How far away is Cordelia's apartment by car?"

Wesley said as they sprinted out the front door of the office building. "It
could be anywhere from five minutes to three hours. This is Los Angeles, you know."

Giles repressed a sigh. "Assume normal traffic patterns."

Tossing his gear in the back, Wesley answered, "Fifteen minutes." Then he slid
inside and started the car.

"And," Giles said as he got into the passenger seat, "How long will it take
Angel?"

"Do you think I've timed him?"

Giles didn't bother to repress this sigh. "Estimate."

"If I would, I could," Wesley said, pulling out and merging into traffic. "I
don't have a map of the system. It could take him ten minutes or half an hour. In any
event, best that we make all possible speed." And saying that Wesley drove down the
unfamiliar streets of LA like, if not a seasoned pro, at least someone who had
some idea of where he was going and the best way to get there.

They passed a few minutes driving in silence. Then, rounding a corner, Wesley
said, "What do you plan to do if we get there and Buffy and Angel are in a
confrontation?"

"I intend to break it up," was Giles' answer.

"How?" Wesley said.

"If I have to, I'll get in between them."

"No . . . I'd prefer not. Imagine if either Buffy or Angel sent you headlong
into a wall. I can scarcely imagine the guilt that would ensue from harming you."

"You can't get in between them," Giles replied as Wesley passed an SUV. "You
would have even less authority than I do."

"Thus the crossbow," Wesley said.

Acidly, Giles said, "You are not taking that crossbow inside. I don't care how
good a shot you are, I have no intention of letting you even pretend to shoot Buffy."

"I thought we'd discussed this." Wesley pulled up in front of an apartment block
set back from the street. "I was given to understand that you were going to treat me
as though I knew what I was doing." Unlocking the driver's door, Wesley began to get out
of the car – only to be stopped by Giles' hand on his arm.

"It would be easier," Giles said, "For me to treat me as though you knew what
you were doing if what you were doing didn't involve the crossbow. Buffy is –"

"Buffy," Wesley said firmly, "Is the villain here. You would do well to remember
that. And if forced to make any kind of choice here I will choose the innocent."

"Angel is hardly an innocent. And Buffy, no matter how selfish she may have
acted on occasion recently, is scarcely a villain."

Wesley pulled his arm free, but made no move to exit the automobile. "If she
tries to kill Angel without cause, without listening, she's a villain. And in this
instance Angel IS an innocent."

"Again, it's not like she doesn't have cause to be upset."

"The only person she has cause to be upset with is Mr. Finn. This sequence of
events was his fault and his alone. That may not be something you or Buffy wishes to
hear, but it is the truth." Wesley was more irritated than Giles had ever heard. Now
if you're quite done, I'm going inside. And if you try to prevent me from taking
the crossbow in rest assured you WILL regret it." Then Wesley reached into the back,
retrieved the crossbow and a handful of bolts, got out of the car, and without
another word began walking towards the apartment.

After a few seconds Giles followed him.

X X X X X

"Hi Buffy. Doesn't Cordelia have the most wonderful apartment you've ever seen?"
Joyce said as she stepped out of the closet.

"Yes, she does," Buffy answered. "A great view, a great location and a mom in
the bedroom closet. Does it come equipped with a Giles in the kitchen cabinets too?"

"I don't think I like your tone, Buffy," Joyce said with as much indignation as
she could muster given the circumstances.

"I find you hiding in a closet in Los Angeles when you should be 75 miles away
and you don't like my tone?"

"Well . . . no," Joyce said lamely.

"Buffy, please –" Cordelia began.

"So, I'll ask again," Buffy said, ignoring Cordelia. "What are you doing here?"

A voice from the door. "She's trying to stop you from doing something stupid."
Buffy whirled.

"Angel," she spat. "I was wondering if you'd show. I can't believe you killed
Riley. I mean, I knew you didn't like him but I never thought you'd kill him."

"Buffy," Angel said as gently as he could, "I didn't kill him."

"Please," Buffy said sarcastically. "You expect me to believe that?" She got in
a fighting stance.

Angel simply said, "Yes." He hadn't moved since he'd entered Cordelia's
apartment except to close the door. His hands were down by his sides. Meanwhile, Joyce had moved
to stand close to her daughter. A soda can on the end table by the couch moved back and
forth seemingly by itself.

"He was killed, in your apartment, by a thrust through the heart. Who the hell
else could have done it? I mean, you and I both know you didn't have a woman down there."

"Buffy," Cordelia said, "Knock it off. Angel didn't kill Riley." She sighed.
"Believe me, I know."

"I've heard that before, Cordy," Buffy said. "The cops called it self-defense. I
don't believe them." By this point Joyce had given up trying to comfort Buffy or calm
her down and had moved to lean against the wall.

"You're right not to." Everyone in the room looked at Cordelia like she'd just
grown a second head. Even Dennis seemed vaguely unsettled. "What is it, people!" she
demanded. "It's not technically self defense if you're trying to protect someone else."

"So Riley was threatening someone else and Angel shot him to protect that
person?" Buffy's tone made it clear she wasn't buying Cordy's explanation.

"No! God, how stupid are you right now?"

Gritting her teeth, Buffy said, "Sorry if I don't have time to buy any long and
complicated explanations there, Cordy, it's just I have this tendency to get a
bit upset when my boyfriend gets murdered."

"I mean," Cordelia shouted back, "That Angel didn't kill Riley at all. I did."

X X X X X

Buffy's first reaction to Cordelia's reaction was, "Huh?"

"I said," Cordelia said, enunciating clearly, "I killed Riley. What's the
matter, are you deaf?"

Buffy again said, "What the hell are you talking about? Angel killed Riley."

"No, he didn't. It's obvious being a Slayer doesn't add anything to your
brainpower. GOD, thank you for being such a bitch about this. You know, I've
been in a funk for the last day and a half ever since it happened and this little act
of yours was JUST what I needed to pull myself out. Thanks." Angel and Joyce
both shot Cordelia confused looks.

Quietly, Buffy said, "You did not kill Riley."

"Oh no?" Cordelia demanded. "Would you like a description of exactly how it
happened? Here, Slayergirl, let me give you the details."

"Cordelia, I really don't think –" Angel began.

"Shut up," Buffy said. "I would love to hear this." The tone in Buffy's voice
made it crystal that she thought Cordelia was running a scam to save Angel's hide.
When Joyce looked like she was about to say something, Buffy glared and the older
woman kept silent.

"You want? You got. I came into work yesterday morning and heard what sounded
like an argument going on downstairs, in the apartment. I grabbed a crossbow and slowly
started creeping down the stairs – you know, in case maybe I could do something
Angel couldn't against whatever beast was attacking him, not likely, but you
never know, right? Anyway, imagine my surprise when I peeked out and saw a man holding
a rifle and Angel slowly getting up from the floor. So I yelled, 'What the hell have
you done to him?' and he turned around and held the rifle on me." Cordelia's ranting
had grown progressively softer over the course of her speech, and by now she was
barely speaking above a whisper.

"And then what?" Buffy's voice was still and small as well.

"And then – and then I thought he was going to shoot me and hurt me the way he'd
hurt Angel, so I fired the crossbow." She stopped and took a deep breath. "I was
aiming for his legs, I swear, Buffy. I never meant to kill him."

X X X X X

Giles and Wesley jogged towards Cordelia's apartment.

Wesley was carrying a crossbow, and trying not to smile triumphantly.

"Listen," Giles said as the two Ex-Watchers entered the building, "What do you
hear?"

Confused, Wesley said, "Nothing."

"Yes," Giles said as he hurried up the stairs. "No sounds of violence, no
screams of rage."

"Ah. Perhaps we're not too late."

"My thoughts precisely."

They ran down the hall and opened Cordelia's front door – just in time to hear
Buffy say, angrily, "Nice try, Cordy. But Riley doesn't act like that. He leaves
running my life to me." Tears were running down Cordelia's face, but Buffy
apparently hadn't noticed them.

"So that's what this was about," Angel said. "You're not angry at me. You're
angry at Riley."

"I will show you how not angry at you I am!" And then Buffy leapt across the
room
and punched Angel in the face.

Mildly, Wesley told Giles, "What was that about no sounds of violence or
screams of rage?"

"Shut up," Giles said. Buffy's attack was almost void of technique; she was
simply hitting Angel as hard as she could. The vampire was blocking nine out of ten
attacks.

"In any event. Miss Summers!" Wesley raised his voice. "If you would please –"
he raised the crossbow and pointed in Buffy's general direction. This had the exact
consequence you'd imagine, which is to say, none.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Joyce ran across the room and slapped
the weapon from Wesley's hands. "You are not going to shoot my daughter!"

Angel, momentarily distracted, failed to counter a blow to the face. Within
seconds Buffy had knocked him down and had taken out a stake. Giles and Wesley
moved forward, uncertain what to do, when a sudden piercing scream brought the
action to halt.

Everyone looked and saw Cordelia holding the crossbow –

Pointed directly at Buffy's head.

"Back away from him," Cordelia said, crossbow shaking in her hand. "Now."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Giles demanded.

"I think I'm ending this now," Cordelia snapped back. "Now get away from Angel,
Buffy. I'm not kidding."

"Like hell you're going to kill my daughter," Joyce said, moving towards the
younger woman – only to trip and fall when the throw rug she was standing on
suddenly flew out from under her.

"Way to go, Dennis," Cordelia muttered to herself.

"You're not going to shoot me," Buffy said, though she did lower the stake.

"Oh really? Why not? Why the fuck not?" she screamed. "I mean, I've already
killed one person this week, I may as well go for two."

"Cordelia, I really don't think –" Giles began, only to be silenced by a swift
kick from Wesley.

"She knows what she's doing," Wesley told him. "I hope," he said to himself.

"I mean," Cordelia continued, oblivious. "That's the way these things go, right?
It's just like I was telling your mom earlier, Buffy, kill one person and the
next becomes easier. You should know though, right? You came here, you wanted to kill
Faith, and here you are trying to kill Angel. So you should know exactly what
I'm going through. This murderous rage. First you kill one person, then the next and
pretty soon you end up just like Faith. Killing people just because you think
they've pissed you off."

"Cordy –" Buffy started, hesitantly.

"Me," Cordy said, "I'm better than that. Because I know you're pissing me off."

With one word, Buffy threw the stake down to the floor and screamed. It was a
scream of rage and anguish directly mostly at herself. "Enough," she yelled as
she stood up. "Enough," she said again, more quietly, as she walked over towards
Cordelia. "Enough," she repeated in a normal tone of voice as she took the
crossbow from Cordelia's unresisting hands.

"So you get my point?" Cordelia asked as Buffy set the weapon aside.

"I gotta say, Cordy," Buffy said with bitter humor, "You're the best person I
know at driving home a point with a sledgehammer."

"Nothing else was working," Cordelia responded just as bitterly.

"So . . ." Angel said tentatively as he stood up, "Does this mean you're not
going to kill me?"

"Not right now, anyway," Buffy said, not really looking at him.

"How did you know?" Giles asked Wesley.

"I had no idea," Wesley responded. To Joyce's and Giles' dropped jaws he said.
"I played a hunch."

"Cordy," Buffy said shakily – "Could I sit down on your couch? Because I'm not
feeling like I can stand much longer –" she staggered and fell.

Of course Angel caught her.

The vampire guided her to the couch and then slowly backed away, not saying a
word. Giles and Joyce then moved in. "Buffy?" Joyce asked. "What is it honey?
What's wrong?"

"I thought he wasn't like that," Buffy said. "I thought he wasn't going to come
on all macho and protective. I thought he was different."

"He told me he was doing it because he loved you," Angel said softly.

"That's what they all say," Buffy said, visibly drained. "And then – the way I
came up here – like Faith –"

"We'll talk about it later," Giles said firmly, daring anyone to disagree with
him.

Cordelia took the challenge. "Like hell we will. We'll talk about this now."
Buffy looked up her blankly.

"I really don't think –" Giles began.

"You got that in one. Look. Buffy comes up here and nearly goes psycho, what,
twice, in the span of one month? And instead of confronting the issue, which any
good psychiatrist would tell you is the way you deal with these things, you want
to handle it later. And then instead of talking to her about her bad attitude
you and mommy over there will just let it slide. Poor Buffy, her boyfriend died,
that's why she did it. Well, we all know how Buffy acted the last time one of
her boyfriends died. I gave her a pass then. But you know, if she's going to go
looneytunes this often then maybe we need to go find ourselves someone with a
bit more emotional stability to do this job for us. Like, I don't know, Faith."

"God, Cordy," Buffy said after a stunned silence, "You can be a stone bitch."

"Well, somebody has to tell you the truth, Buffy. And as usual it looks like I'm
elected. You're going over the edge here. Again. And you know, one of these
times we might not be here to pull you back. And then what happens? I mean, this is
your life we're talking about here, and your sanity." No one else even tried to speak
here. This was Cordelia's show.

"I know," Buffy said. "I know. I was just so angry – I was thinking that maybe
Riley had been my one shot to get past – but anyway –"

"And you went ballistic. Look, I don't know what this is, or why you do it.
Maybe the strain of being a Slayer makes you megatouchy mentally. I mean, sad to say,
you're the sanest Slayer I've met."

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement," Buffy said wryly.

"Not intended to be. But you need to do something about it. I don't know what.
Call a shrink. Vent more often. Find that inner moppet of yours and spank her
until she screams. Whatever. But for god's sake find some way of dealing that
doesn't involve going postal or running away from the world."

"What do the rest of you think about this?" Buffy said.

Giles answered. "Well, actually –"

"You agree?" Buffy asked.

"I wouldn't have phrased it quite that way, but yes," Giles said.

"I quite concur," Wesley added.

"And you?" Buffy demanded of Angel. "You apologized to me for what happened on
the roof, and in the police station, with Faith."

"I had to," Angel said. "Not because I was wrong but because I wanted the lines
of communication to stay open. I didn't want to lose . . . touch with you over
something like that."

"Mom?"

"First time I've heard about any of this, honey. But you know, maybe Cordelia's
right –"

"Damn right I am."

Buffy said quietly, "Then maybe this is my wake-up call. My one shot. But
goddammit, why did Riley have to die?"

And then, in a voice tinged with more venom, more bitterness, than anyone had
ever heard her use before, Cordelia said, "My one shot."