"Then what did you say?" Willow asked, wrapping her arms around her cotton jammie bottoms and pulling her legs close.

Buffy plucked at the imaginary lint on her bedspread before meeting Willow's eyes. "Always," she whispered. And just like when she'd said it to Angel, her throat closed up and she couldn't have said more if her life depended on it.

"Oh, Buffy. We should have stopped for Chunky Monkey."

"Mom's brownies aren't bad comfort food."

"If I didn't already hate Faith, I'd so hate her now. Ooh! We could take turns wishing really awful things to happen to her. Would that help? Whatever you need. I'm there for you. Just name it."

Buffy returned Willow's knitted brow intensity with a smile. Albeit a watery smile, but it was still a smile; Willow could work magic without even working magic.

"What?" Willow asked, touching her face. "Did I get chocolate frosting on me?"

Buffy scooted around until they were side by side, hugging her friend tight. "You're the best."

Now that he was inside, the noise sounded more like music, perhaps a flute. Angel crept along the catwalk, following the odd tune until he could see the tune-maker. It was a female playing a pipe, maybe a recorder. By her pinked flesh, dark curls, and general shape, she was likely human. She smelled human, but he'd need to get a lot closer before he could determine what she was and what she could do.

Where were the demons? He'd been sure this was the building. While there was the requisite abandoned machinery around the edges, there really weren't places to hide a clutch of kolainai.

At first glance, given the way the floor was undulating around the woman, Angel thought that a portal was opening between dimensions. Taking a closer look, he realized that the undulation was an illusion. It was dozens of rats. They couldn't be… As he studied their movements, he realized it was true. They were dancing to her melody.

Mid-tune, she stopped. The rats also stopped, and then scattered into the shadows. He hadn't anticipated her sharp gaze as she turned and looked directly at him.

"What are you doing up in the catwalks, vampire? You're not quite like the others, are you? Let's see how different you really are."

She brought the recorder back to her lips, playing the tune. Then shifting it slightly, she moved it into a minor key. The hairs of his neck stood on end. Time to get out of here. He moved quickly, no longer needing to keep quiet, but before he could escape, the tune changed again, becoming more mournful.

And instead of heading for the window, he found himself climbing down the ladder, in complete contradiction to what he wanted to do. Resisting only made him move like Frankenstein's monster, but he couldn't stop. He continued forward, step by halting step. Up close she still looked quite human, with the odd characteristic of one blue eye and one brown one.

"What's your name?"

"Angel." The word came free without his permission.

"Hello, Angel. You can call me Piper."