Willow arrive ten minutes before the scheduled end of the lecture. She waited outside. She realized the lecture hall had no windows. Hartog's office was on the fifth floor. He could take an elevator up. None of the hallways on the fifth floor were exposed to sunlight. If he kept the shades drawn in his office, Hartog could make it from the podium to his office without being exposed to so much as a single ray of natural light. Not that Willow believed he was a vampire. That was too outlandish for her tastes. She was just looking for ways to cast doubt on Xander's assertions. She had not found any. She heard several hundred people get up from their desks. Now was her time to move. She entered as others left. She walked up the the professor, reaching him before any of the students. He had his right hand on a table. She reached for it and shook it forcefully.

"Willow! I didn't know you were in this class." He didn't sound nervous. His hand felt very cold. Willow gripped it tightly.

"I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about what happened to Patrick. This must be devastating for you and for the whole department." Hartog didn't seem eager to pull his hand back. He put his left hand on her shoulder.

"Patrick told me what a tremendous student you were. He thought very highly of your abilities. This must be hard for you too."

"It's never fun to lose someone you know."

"It sure isn't. Patrick was a gifted scientist, maybe even a brilliant one. He had so much potential. I had great hopes for him. I miss him. To be honest, I still can't believe he's gone." He took his left hand and touched her cheek. "Thank you for your condolences." Then he turned around and answered a few students' questions on his way to the door. Both his hands felt cold. It was as if he wanted her to be sure. He did everything but ask her to take his pulse. She knew he enjoyed that moment. As she watched him leave, she grabbed the wooden pointer from the blackboard. She wanted to stake him herself, right there in front of everyone, so the world would know what he was. But she knew better than to give into vengeance.

"You're sure? You're positive?," Buffy asked Willow that evening.

"I didn't see him go all fangy, but I know."

"How do you know?"

"He was cold. But it was more than just that. I could see it in his eyes. Hear it in his voice. He knew that I knew, and he liked that I knew what he was. Trust me. He's our guy."

"So now we take him down," Xander suggested.

"If we could find him," Buffy noted. "He has plans. He's not going to go out looking for a fight right away. We need to know more about that company."

"Knowing where it is would be a good start," Xander offered.

"Right now all we have is a web page," Buffy responded.

That gave Willow an idea. "That's it! Hack into their computers. Get the inside scoop."

"Sounds good," Buffy concluded. "I'll go patrol. Hold it. The last few nights have been very slow. Almost nothing's been rising."

"So it's been quiet," Xander inferred. "TOO quiet."

"Something like that."

"But why would a vampire want to make your job easier?," Willow asked. "Wouldn't he want to keep you busy?"

"Maybe he's saving his strength," Buffy concluded. "Still, I have to patrol. Just in case. And just cause none are rising doesn't mean there aren't a few out feeding."

Down in Hartog's computer lab, Charles, David, Lenny and Jeff sat at their terminals, typing away. "You wanna head out soon?," Charles asked David.

"Sure. Where to?"

"Usual. Campus. Dig into a sorority girl. Beat up a football player."

"We did that the other night."

"But it's fun," Charles argued. "The college scene is getting old. Besides, Simpsons are on at 11."

"Then we'll go out afterwards." "Charles, I think you're beginning to favor quantity over quality," Lenny explained. "It's a case of diminishing marginal returns. After a while, the thrill is gone. You have to make them count. Put some time into it. And go someplace more interesting. Sunnydale's played out."

"Intruder alert. Intruder alert," Jeff announced. "Looks like we have a break-in."

"I was hoping for some action," Lenny replied.

"Always fun to have some company on a slow night," David concluded.

"Who's the snoop?," Charles asked Jeff.

"I'm getting there," Jeff said as he typed away. "Let the dance begin. This guy's got balls. 250 MHz. Laptop PC. Off the shelves."

"Kinda like trying to break into Fort Knox with a crowbar," Lenny joked.

"Did you get the IP?," Charles asked.

"Of course," Jeff answered. "Now just hold on one second while I check it out. Whom I dancing with? Come on partner. Tell me your name. Oooh. Oh yeah."

"What's his name?," David asked.

"Willow Rosenberg."

"Sounds like a girl's name," Lenny commented.

"A chick hacker!," Charles announced. "We got ourselves a chick hacker."

"Relax Romeo," David joked. "She's probably not even hot."

"Of course she is."

"There are no hot chick hackers. Except in the movies. And that X-Files episode. It's fantasy."

"What's wrong with fantasy?," Lenny asked.

"Speaking of fantasy, check her out!," Jeff exulted. They all crowded around his screen. "Back up. Get on the network, check her out yourselves. They all did this at their own computers."

"Oh baby," Charles announced.

"This can't be real," David commented.

"It's her all right," Jeff explained. "Same face to all the pictures. Matches the IP."

"Then someone else is using her computer," David argued.

"Doubt it," Charles dissented, as he looked through her high school records. "She TAUGHT computer science when she was a junior in high school. Girl must be one hot little prodigy."

"That was a few years back," Lenny noted. "I'm checking out her college transcript. She's a senior. Humanities. Pity. Wasting her talent like that. But that means she's about 22."

"Not too old. Not too young. Just right," Charles concluded.

"Like she'd even give you the time of day," Jeff joked. "Girl's out of your league." They looked at yearbook shots. Stuff from Willow's own web page. College ID photos.

"Like you're such a hit with the ladies," Charles shot back. "Get inside her already. Check out her cookies."

"Working on it," Jeff answered. "Hard drive's encrypted. Nothing too difficult."

"This girl's persistent," Lenny noted. "She's still trying."

"Probably doesn't know she's tangling with a parallel processor," David suggested. "With her hardware, it would take her 42 years to get through our firewall."

"I'll think she'll have given up by then," Lenny quipped.

"But we don't want her to hang up yet," Charles pointed out.

"Way ahead of you," Jeff explained. "When I saw how delicious our intruder was, I set up some hoops for her to jump through. Simple algorithms. The usual delaying tactics. She'll solve a few, and think she's making progress, but she'll just be running in circles. I say she keeps at it for 15 minutes before she surrenders. And in the meantime, her machine is ours."

"Go for the good stuff. Does she have a diary?," Charles asked.

"Patience Chazz. Her cookies tell quite a story. Broken into the municipal and county systems. Hacked the police department on several occasions. Big whoop. Some other kid's stuff. But check this out. Willow did the feds. US Army Special Ops. Not too shabby."

"I don't care about her resume. Get to something personal," Charles demanded.

"Chill out buddy. I'm looking. Lots of school stuff. Nothing that looks like a journal. Let's try email."

"Can't we just read her email from the server any from the server any time we want?," Lenny asked.

"Sure. But where's the fun in that?," Jeff answered. "The whole point is we get inside her while she tries to hack into us. That's the beauty of it."

"That's irony, not beauty," David pointed out.

"Whatever, anal retentive boy," Jeff huffed. "Pay dirt. Love letters. To a girl!"

"Aw man," Lenny whined. "Just our luck. One hot computer chick in this town, and she's not even into guys."

"She could be bi," David suggested.

"Doubtful," Charles remarked. "Her name keeps popping up at all these wicca sites."

"She's a witch?," Lenny asked.

"Yup. And you know what that means." "Nothing steamy," Jeff announced. "Blah blah blah soul, blah blah blah care, blah blah love. Who writes dirty emails anyway? I knew we'd find nothing."

"Do we cut her loose then?," David asked. "I wonder what kind of a vampire she'd be," Lenny mused.

"Probably not one who would hang around with us," David answered.

"I don't know about that," Charles countered. "Maybe she likes being around other smart people."

"Smart people don't always make smart vampires," Jeff noted. "Remember Jared?" "Of course I do," Lenny answered. "We were attacked together. He got drunk on his new strength and just ran amok. Completely lost his head."

"Literally," Jeff added. "Or so I heard. Did he really stick his head through the sunroof and get decapitated by a low bridge?"

"Sure did," Lenny answered. "Some people can't handle the transformation. That's why I don't sire. Cool people can make such disappointing vampires."

"That's no reason to stop trying," Charles argued. "In fact, it's why I sire so many. Then at least you get a few good ones."

"I thought it was a power thing with you?," Jeff asked Charles. "Having minions to do your bidding. Don't care for minions myself. Too much responsibility. There we go. Left our new friend Willow with a little message. She can't trace it. But she knows that we know what she's up to."

"Do we crash her system?," David asked.

"Too obvious," Charles answered.

"Let's just leave her twisting in the wind," Lenny suggested.

"Just what I had in mind," Jeff concurred. "Switch off the games. Soon she'll realize she can't break the real code and give up."

"How's it going Will?," Xander asked.

"Not too well. I got nothing. This guy's locked down tighter than the Initiative." She froze for a few seconds.

"What is it Willow?" "I can't believe I forget about that."

"Forgot what?" "I have a date with Zooey tonight."

Willow ran upstairs and called Zooey.

"Zooey, I am so, so sorry. I had to meet with a professor, and it was at the last minute, and I am so sorry."

"Stuff comes up with you. I get that."

"Zooey I feel absolutely horrible about this. If there's anything I can do - "

"How bout tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow's good. Tomorrow's perfect."

"Just make sure you remember this time."

"I will. I hate going this long without seeing you. But the night's still young. Could I come over tonight?"

"So you want to skip the date and go straight for the sex."

"I didn't mean that."

"Not like I don't think the sex is spectacular."

"Spectacular would be an understatement."

"I know Will. But if I make an exception this time it'll soon become a pattern. I want more than that."

"And I do too. You know that. I love all the time we spend together. Even the times when we're not naked. Tomorrow night then. Can't wait." Willow walked back into the dining room. She felt guilty for standing up Zooey. And guiltier still for being unable to tell her the truth. That was the problem with dating outsiders. But it certainly wasn't reason enough to give up someone as wonderful as Zooey. Having Zooey around made the stress caused by the rest of her life bearable.

"That's it," Xander told Willow. "Remember what you did to the Initiative? You took down the power grid to make them vulnerable. Wouldn't that completely disrupt what this guy's doing?"

"Probably. But then what?"

"We flush him out. Force him to go on the offensive."

"There has to be an easier way to find this guy without inconveniencing tens of thousands of people. Of course. Why didn't I think of this earlier? His house! I got the address right here with all the other background stuff."

"He keeps his job. He keeps his life. He keeps his house? That sounds a little too conspicuous."

"Pretty pricey neighborhood. .75 acre plot. Which means in the daytime it would be like a prison for him. But that's even better. He'll be gone during the day, and we can go in. We need information. Where else can we look?"

Next afternoon, Buffy, Willow and Xander went to Hartog's house. They had done this sort of thing plenty of times before. "How do we get in?," Xander asked.

"Through the front door," Buffy answered. "Just wait one moment." She leaped on the roof of the garage, then jumped onto the roof of the two-story house. She walked over to the chimney, and jumped down into it. Hartog had never used the chimney, which was lucky for Buffy, since it meant she didn't get covered in soot. She landed in the fireplace and stepped out into the living room. "Eat you heart out, Santa." Buffy walked out into the hallway and opened the front door. "Come on in." Willow and Xander entered. The furniture was covered in dust.

"Looks like the cleaning lady stopped coming," Xander observed.

"Certainly lacks that homey lived-in feel," Buffy added. "I'll take the basement. Willow, you go upstairs. Xander, you search this floor."

"What are we looking for?," Xander asked Buffy.

"Documents, computer disks, anything that could be connected to his work or could tell us where he does his work." They split up. Buffy turned on the downstairs lights and entered the basement. There was an exercise room with a stationary bike, a bench and a few weights. A large space with an extensive network of model train tracks and numerous model trains. Clearly this guy had been a big customer for Lionel. In the corner was a large freezer laid along the ground. Buffy opened it. It was empty, but it looked like this could have been where he stored Patrick. That sent a chill down her spine. Hartog could have been watching his trains go round the tracks while putting away Patrick's body. Near the water heater and furnace were a number of storage boxes on shelves. She started looking through them.

Two stories up, Willow found nothing incriminating in his bedroom. She checked his office and its computer. Perhaps there was something there. While she did this, Xander combed the first floor. Checked out the bookshelves, but didn't find anything of note. Looked through his file cabinets, which seemed mostly to contain old financial records. Then he decided to check the kitchen. Maybe something was hidden there. The refrigerator held a few pints of blood. Aside from being a little disturbing, this told Xander Hartog went to his house at least occasionally. As he looked through the kitchen drawers, he heard someone outside yelling.

"Police! Open up!" He realized there were at the front door.

"This is the police! Come out with your hands up!" That was from the back door, which was near the kitchen. He opened the door to the basement.

"Buffy, don't come up here. Get out now!" Then he ran to the stairs.

"Willow, get out! Someone's here!" Realizing the front door was unlocked, two cops entered, guns drawn and pointed at Xander. He put his hands up in shock.

"Xander, did you say something?," Willow asked as she came to the stairs. She saw the cops. One went up the stairs to get her. She put her hands up and came down. Like Xander, she was terrified. The two other officers had entered through the back door. They had seen Xander speak to someone in the basement. So they went down to pursue. Buffy heard the intruders. She assumed they were demons, and try to hide in order to ambush them.

"This the the police! Come out where I can see you with your hands up!" Buffy saw them. They sure didn't look like demons. And they had guns. Not much she could do other than surrender.

Buffy, Xander and Willow were booked at the Sunnydale police station. They couldn't believe what was happening. Yes, they knew they were committing a crime. But they'd broken into plenty of other places without getting in trouble. Besides, this guy was a demon. It would have been ridiculous if it wasn't so frustrating. What they had not known was that Hartog had an anti-burglary system with heat sensors. Even though Buffy and her friends entered without jimmying a lock or breaking a window, their body heat gave them away. The alarm was silent, and immediately alerted the Sunnydale police that a robbery was in progress.

It took couple hours for their paperwork to be processed. All the while they had to sit there in handcuffs. Then they were uncuffed and put in two adjacent jail cells. "This is a nightmare," Xander said. "This is an absolute nightmare. They're treating us like common criminals."

"Well, we were kind of committing a common crime," Willow answered. "Although there were extenuating circumstances of the sort we can't tell the officers about." Buffy was sullen and quiet. She had been in this police station. Ever since she was busted for arson in Los Angeles, she had been dogged by the specter of juvenile delinquency, by the risk her Slayer duties would cause her to be mistaken for a violent criminal. Being being bars just brought back all those bad memories: of her first expulsion, of moving, of being investigated for murder. More than death, her worst fear had always been confinement in an insane asylum or a prison.

Xander and Willow had no such precarious history to haunt them. This was their first run-in with the law. All three of them were worried. But while Buffy manifested her worry in reticent depression, Willow and Xander manifested theirs in loquacious hyperactivity.

"Excuse me! Can we make a phone call? I thought we get one phone call?," Xander asked the officer at the nearest desk.

"In a couple minutes," she replied.

"They can't hold us like this," Xander added.

"Of course not. We have rights," Willow added.

"Why can't we just leave on bail or something?," Xander asked.

"Oh no. I have plans tonight. With Zooey!"

"And I have a date with Elise! This is a disaster." Buffy couldn't believe how petty her friends were acting.

"I have to call her," Willow responded.

"I have to call her too. Elise. Not Zooey. Okay, we each get one phone call. Who do we call?"

"Dawn and Anya would be my choices," Buffy answered. "I bet they'd want to know where we are. Plus they could help with bail, lawyers, the sort of stuff we need right now."

"What do we need lawyers for?," Xander asked.

"We're charged with a felony."

This was the first time Xander had taken the charges seriously. "I'll lose my job. I'll lose my union card. I'll have to go back to driving that ice cream truck. I'll be ruined!"

"Let's not lose hope," Willow counseled. "We're gonna get out of this. One problem. What do I tell Zooey? What do you tell Elise? 'Sorry honey. I can't make it tonight. I'm in jail.' Not exactly the sort of thing you want to hear from someone you're dating."

"That's true. She'll think I've got problems. That I'm a criminal. But I have to tell her something."

Buffy had a question. "If you two are going to use your calls to lie to your honeys, then we only have one phone call to reach someone who can actually come and help us."

"Right. You call Dawn," Xander suggested.

"And if she's not home?"

"Leave her a message. It's a school night. She'll be home."

"Then how will she come to help us? She can't drive."

"Then you call Anya," Willow suggested.

"What if she's out with Sterling?," Buffy asked. "Then we've wasted our one shot."

"How bout this?," Xander began. "You call Dawn. She'll call Anya."

"And if Dawn's home but Anya's not?," Buffy asked.

"What's with all the hypotheticals?," Xander asked.

"They don't need to be hypotheticals. I call Dawn, and one of you calls Anya."

"So then one of us has to stand up our date," Xander noted.

"There are bigger things at stake," Buffy responded.

"Zooey and Elise are best friends," Willow remembered. "I call Zooey, tell her to tell Elise you can't make it."

"Yeah, but then I look like a jerk," Xander argued.

"Fine. I see where your priorities are," Buffy conceded. You call your honeys. Make up some story. I'll call Dawn." Willow said she had a take-home exam due the next day. Xander said he hurt his back at the construction site and needed to take it easy tonight. Dawn was home. She was less shocked than Buffy predicted. But Dawn had long ago grown accustomed to Buffy getting in trouble. Dawn dutifully called Anya, who came over to see them.

"This is an outrage!," she announced when she saw them. "I'll get you the best lawyer I can find. They're not gonna get away with this. I mean, you'll get away with this. They won't get away with punishing you. What's your bail set at? I can get you a bail bond." She went to the front desk. "Excuse me. What is their bail? I want to free them."

"No bail."

"What! You're just going to hold them?"

"No bail until they are arraigned. No arraignment until tomorrow morning. Then bail will be set."

"And in the meantime they'll be imprisoned without being charged with anything?"

"Yes."

"You can't do that!"

"Yes we can."

"But it's unconstitutional. And downright un-american. It's bolshevism, I tell ya."

"Legally we can't hold them for more than 48 hours without charging them with something. They were brought in less than 8 hours ago."

Buffy and Willow were in one cell. Xander was in the other cell to their right. There were only bars between the two cells, so they could easily communicate. While Anya was talking to the officer at the front desk, another man was put in Xander's cell. He was big and tall, with a large belly, long hair under a bandana, and thick stubble on his chin and neck. He wore a leather motorcycle jacket. Xander's new cell mate frightened him. He stopped talking. He sat on a bench against the back wall well away from where the biker was standing. After about an hour, the biker took off his jacket. He walked over to Xander. Xander trembled. The biker put his jacket down on the bench and went back to standing on the other side of the cell. It didn't seem like he wanted to make conversation. It also didn't seem like he wanted to bully Xander. But Xander didn't want to take that chance. He stayed mute and meek and with his back to the wall.

Realizing she could do nothing that evening, Anya left. Sterling was at her place, and she hated to keep him waiting. Worrying about her friends wasn't going to help them that night. So she forgot about them and went back to being ensconced in romantic bliss. Xander was too nervous to sleep. Willow too jumpy. Buffy just sat there, thinking about Hartog, about how that night the town was defenseless against vampires, wondering if she'd be bailed out in time to make her shift in the morning. Around 3 am, Spike entered. No one was expecting to see him.

Only two officers were on duty. They didn't feel like trying to prevent Spike from going to the jail cells. After all, they had the keys, so he couldn't do anything. "Well, well, well. I always knew you three were up to no good."

"Did Anya tell you?," Buffy asked.

"I was checking the police blotter. Seeing if there were any crimes of the sort we worry about. Happened to catch your names in the box score. Officer, I say you throw the bloody book at them. They're nothing but trouble." He was having fun with this. Then he saw Xander's cell mate. Now he was going to have some real fun. "Hey there mate. Name's Spike. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Merle." It was the first time Xander heard his cellmate talk.

"Like old Hag?," Spike asked, referring to Merle Haggard.

"You a fan?"

"How could I not be?" Then Spike started the sing. Merle joined in after the first line:

"The warden led a prisoner down the hallway to his doom

and I stood up to say goodbye like all the rest.

And I heard him tell the warden just before he reached my cell

let my guitar-playing friend do my request.

Let him sing me back home with the song I used to hear.

Make my old memories come alive.

And take me away, and turn back the years.

Sing me back home before I die."

Buffy, Willow and Xander were positively stupefied, watching Spike sing a country song with the biker. It appeared to them Spike had gone nuts. Spike knew the song from a rock version done by Graham Parsons. Parsons died young, and his manager stole his casket from the funeral home, took it out to the desert, and burned the body. Spike had always found that suspicious. And Spike could identify with mournful songs about murderers, since he was one himself.

"Never reckoned someone who looked and sounded like yourself would have a soft spot of Ol' Hag," Merle told Spike.

"I've always had a soft spot for outlaws."

"And us outlaws have soft spot for Hag cause he's one of us." Merle started singing again. Spike knew about half the words and mumbled along with the rest:

"I turned 21 in prison doing life without parole

no one could steer me right but mama tried, mama tried

mama tried to raise me better but her pleading I denied

that leaves only me to blame cause mama tried."

"You ain't half bad," Merle told Spike. Spike looked over the tattoos on Merle's shoulders and arms.

"Merle, were you at the 50th Independence Day Rally in Hollister back in '97?"

"You were there!?"

"Was I there? I was the reason they called in the cops!" Both of them laughed. Hollister was a biker town in northern California where on July 4th thousands of bikers come every year to party and cause mayhem. Spike went for the mayhem. It was on the way to Sunnydale, where he headed that fall. Plus, amidst the lawlessness and the brawls between rival biker gangs, Spike could get in a fair amount of killing before anyone noticed.

"Those were great times," Merle responded.

"You're one of the Angels, aren't you?," Spike asked, referring to the biker gang, several of whose members Spike beat up and killed that July 4th weekend.

"Sure am."

"An ANGEL! Well isn't that something. Xander sharing a cell with an ANGEL." Spike was revelling in the pun.

"He got a problem with the Angels?," Merle asked Spike. Xander was worried.

"Just one ANGEL. And he's not even one of yours. Let's just say he's an angel who never got his wings." Spike and Merle started laughing. Xander, Willow and Buffy didn't understand what was so funny. Lucky for them, they didn't know what it means for a Hell's Angel to "Get His Wings." The joke had nothing to do with Angel specifically. It was merely a pun. Although, since Spike knew how a Hell's Angel got his wings, he knew it was an extremely sick pun.

After about 20 seconds Merle stopped laughing. "So this 'Angel' couldn't get it done with the ladies?"

"In a manner of speaking," Spike responded with a smirk.

Merle looked at Xander. "No wonder you didn't respect the guy." What Merle was saying and what Xander thought he was saying were completely different. Merle's comments had nothing at all to do with Perfect Happiness or a Curse, even though they sounded to Xander like they did. As perplexed as Xander was by Spike's behavior, he was relieved that Merle was cool with him.

Spike walked over to the nearest officer and picked up the arrest report. "What did they do this time? Attempted Burglary! That's serious." He read on. "I don't see anything about a burglary. Or breaking. Says 'no sign forced entry.' Means all ya got is trespassing, which isn't even worth bothering with."

"It is if one of them has priors."

"And none of them do."

"Miss Summers does. She has quite a record."

"Not as an adult." Spike had known lived continuously in Sunnydale since she was 18, and he couldn't remember so much as an arrest during that time. "Anything she did before that is sealed. You can't use any of it. You're not even supposed to look at it. What's that called? Police misconduct. You'll be in more trouble than her. You're better off letting her go right now before anyone finds out."

"What are you, a lawyer?"

"Do I look like a barrister?"

"Then you must be a criminal."

"Former criminal, you might say. Don't bother opening a file on me. Statute of Limitation's run out on all my crimes. Like I said, keeping them is more trouble than it's worth." Spike read on. "And trust me, this guy is not going to press charges. That I can guarantee." Then he walked over to Buffy's cell. He motioned for her to come to the bars.

"That your vampire? I know him. I've met him. We'll talk." Then Spike walked away. "Nice meeting you Merle," he said before heading out.

"Your friend's pretty cool," Merle said to Xander. Xander was about to tell Merle he wasn't Spike's friend, but realized that would be idiotic. He just nodded.