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Jeff clicked on the light. The hotel room contained a bureau, a television, a chair, a desk, and a bed. Annie hung back by the door, unwilling to approach.

"Nice spread," Jeff said, eying the blood-red coverlet splashed with yellow and green paisley. "Looks like a slide from Biology. Paramecium." He dropped his small overnight bag into the chair and waved at Annie. "You coming in?"

She nodded, but only advanced one step.

"Take the bathroom first, if you want. I'll check out the TV line-up. I hear they have HBO." He raised his eyebrows, pretending to be impressed.

"Wait!" Annie said. "Don't touch the remote yet." She set her bag on the floor, pulled a plastic baggie out of an inner pocket, and handed it to Jeff. "Use this."

Jeff examined it. "Use it for what?"

"To put over the remote! Studies have shown that there are more dangerous microbes on hotel remotes than there are on the average toilet seat. I can't imagine the disease potential."

"Always use protection. I see."

Annie blushed at the double entendre and looked away. "I'll be out of the bathroom soon." She carried her bag in with her, which she regretted, since it left her scant room to maneuver in the tiny space. Being away from her regular routines was always distressing for her, so she tended to overcompensate by bringing along everything she might possibly need to make herself feel more comfortable. She hadn't planned on sharing a room, and with Jeff there as an amused spectator, she definitely didn't want to go around setting up candles and her iPod speakers.

Even her pajamas were causing problems. She got cold in hotel rooms, so she'd packed a set of long-sleeved flannel pajamas printed with anthropomorphic sushi. Now she looked at them with loathing. She couldn't bear to walk out in front of Jeff wearing that. Digging in her bag produced a white camisole, which she substituted for the flannel top. Better. Then she realized in horror that she could see her nipples through the thin fabric, so she put the pajama top back on over it.

There was no way she would be able to sleep tonight.

True to her word, she rushed through the rest of her ablutions, and lugged her bag back out of the bathroom. Jeff was sprawled on the bed, making it look much smaller than it had. He held up the remote, encased in its baggie. "You were right. This thing is gross." He took in her outfit. "Did a blizzard blow in without me realizing it?"

"I always get cold in hotels," she said with more dignity than she felt.

"Those will work," he said, heading for the bathroom.

Annie went to the bed and gingerly removed the offending coverlet, wrinkling her nose as she slid it off and dropped it in a corner of the room. She pulled back the blanket and looked at the sheets critically, then got in quickly and pulled them over herself. She wanted to be asleep – or at least pretending to be – by the time Jeff got out of the bathroom. Not that she expected to sleep much, anyway: she was never able to sleep well on nights before important events. Sharing a bed with Jeff would only worsen matters exponentially.

The bathroom door opened and she heard Jeff walk out. Annie peeked at him from under her lashes. He was wearing boxer briefs and a white tank top, and her eyes widened a bit before she forced herself to clamp them shut.

"Are you asleep already?" he asked. She didn't answer, and made her breathing slow and regular, hoping to convince him. "Okay," he said. "I'm turning off the lights."

The room went black from behind her eyelids, and she felt the mattress depress on the other side of the bed as he sat down. The covers rustled, and he settled in.

Annie had never shared a bed before. Sure, there had been a few sleepovers and slumber parties as a child, but those didn't count. She had never slept beside Dave, her high school boyfriend, and of all the things she'd done with Vaughn (and thanks to their taking it slow, those hadn't been very numerous), literally sleeping with him hadn't been one. Somehow, this felt more intimate than anything she'd ever done. In the silent room, she could hear Jeff's breathing, could smell the soap he'd used. He was so close she could touch him if she moved her hand. If she rolled over in her sleep, their bodies would meet. She wriggled a few inches farther away, until she was at the very edge of the mattress.

"I know this is awkward, Annie," Jeff's voice came from the darkness. "But you don't have to worry. Get comfortable. Pretend I'm not here."

That was never going to happen.

He snored. Of course he did. The digital clock glowed 12:05. She'd been laying there sleepless for half an hour. Adding to her torture was the temperature. Although it was a cool night, Jeff radiated heat, and Annie felt smothered inside her layers of flannel and cotton. Accustomed to her cool, silent, dark bedroom, the noise and the light seeping in around the drapes was unbearable. Trying to cool off, she stuck one exploratory foot out from under the covers, then another. It wasn't helping.

"Do you always move around this much?" Jeff asked, his voice deepened with sleep.

"You're too hot," Annie said.

"Thanks, I know I am."

"That's not what I meant! You're like sleeping with an electric blanket. It's hot in here."

"I could turn on the air conditioner, or you could try shedding a layer of your snow suit. I'm not going to see anything, and if you can't sleep this entire thing is a waste."

"And you snore."

"No I don't." He sounded offended.

"Yes, you do."

"Whatever, I'll roll over."

Realizing that she had to get some relief, Annie took off the pajama top. Then, after a few seconds, she squirmed out of the bottoms and kicked them out of the bed. Panties and a camisole weren't too revealing, she reasoned, and she could wake up early and get dressed anyway.

She managed to doze off, then snapped back to wakefulness, shivering with cold. She snuggled deeper under the covers. The clock read 12:33. Turning over, she looked down at the floor where her pajama bottoms had landed, and gauged how much effort it would take for her to get out of bed, put them on, and get back in as quickly as possible.

"What's wrong now?" Jeff said, resigned.

"I'm cold," she admitted miserably. "You can stop telling me to go to sleep, too. I can never sleep the night before anything important. Tests, papers due, presentations, anything. It's pointless."

Jeff rolled over to face her. With her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see him clearly. He looked very young with his face relaxed and hair rumpled from the pillow. He studied her for a moment, then turned on his back and propped a pillow behind him to support a reclining position. "C'mere," he said.

"What?"

He stretched out a long arm and gathered her in, tucking her alongside his body. After a surprised moment, she complied, turning into his warmth and pillowing her head on the thick muscle of his chest. Her heart was thudding rapidly, and she wondered if he could feel it. "What do you watch on TV when you can't sleep?" he asked. "Food Network? Cops? I always go for Law and Order reruns."

Annie could feel his voice rumbling through his chest, and it reverberated all the way down to the pit of her stomach. "I – I don't have a TV in my room," she answered. "They're detrimental to study habits."

"Home Shopping Network it is, then."

Lulled by the glow of the television and Jeff's regular breathing, she found herself relaxing. She felt Jeff smooth her hair. "Go to sleep, Annie."

So she did.

"Annie." A hand on her shoulder.

Unsure for a moment where she was, she attempted to focus her eyes. Jeff was standing over her, and awareness returned.

"It's six. Thought you might want to wake up."

Annie nodded.

"I'll be in the shower. You said you wouldn't be able to sleep, but you never moved, and when I woke up you were drooling on my chest." Jeff grinned.

"What?" she yelped, but he had already shut the bathroom door behind him. She sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, wiping her mouth and wondering, embarrassed, whether she had been drooling. She felt betrayed by her own body for sleeping when by rights, she should have been awake most of the night double-checking her notes and rehearsing her points. The only difference between previous sleepless nights and last night had been, well, Jeff.

The hiss and whine of the shower reminded her that just on the other side of the bathroom door, Jeff was very naked, and her traitorous mind supplied her with a detailed memory. She realized that the night could have turned out differently. Her imagination took over with a quick succession of images: Jeff's mouth, a hand fisted in the sheets, an involuntary gasp. She shuddered, hot all over, and leaped to her feet, desperate to distract herself.

Annie slung on a robe from her bag, looking down aghast as she realized what she'd worn while sleeping, and pulled out her debate notes. Here was something quantifiable she could focus on. The anxiety she ordinarily would have nursed all night came back to her in a flood, and by the time Jeff got out of the shower, she had whipped herself into a froth of panic.

"What do you want to bet that the continental breakfast doesn't offer anything that isn't carbohydrate-based?" Jeff asked, running a hand through his hair as he took an final appraising glance in the mirror. Then he noticed her look of wild-eyed desperation. "Something happen? Bad news?"

"I can't do this," Annie said, her voice shrill. "All of my arguments are weak. You have to give the closing statements, and maybe some of my other points, too. I can do some last-minute research while you have breakfast, and - "

Jeff spoke over her. "You could win this without me, Annie."

Shocked into silence, she goggled at him.

"You could take it if Starburns were your partner," he continued, coming to stand in front of her. "Sure, it wouldn't be easy, but you could do it. You've gotten good, Annie, very good. Formidable," he smiled.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Jeff's expression softened as he looked at her, and Annie felt drawn to him as if by magnetic force. "Let's get some breakfast," he said, deliberately breaking the moment.

After showering and choking down a few bites of the yogurt Jeff had brought her, Annie struggled into her collection of plastic weaponry. None of the holsters were made for someone her size, so the one on her shoulder flopped around under her armpit, and she had to cinch the one on her thigh down tight to its smallest fit. Coming out of the bathroom, she twisted to look at her back in the mirror, trying to smooth over the telltale lumps at her waistband and against her ribs.

"It looks like I'm smuggling water bottles. I'm going to get laughed out of the room," she said. Jeff was in the chair, playing with his phone. He glanced up and assessed her.

"The secret is to act like you always pack heat. Then no one will question you."

She gave him an exasperated glare and tried to cross her arms, but was stymied by the shoulder holster.

"I'm not kidding. Convincing yourself is the most important part. You know all the pros and cons of the topic, and you've played devil's advocate against yourself at every turn. Now's the time to stop it. If you can believe that your position is correct and that whatever the other side says is irrelevant, you'll convince the judges, too."

"What if the opposition believes the same thing?"

"Easy. We're better than them."

"Is that how you won your court cases?"

"Most of them." He stood up and offered her his arm. "Ready to do this?"

The audience for the debate at Pueblo Community College was smaller and less enthusiastic than City College's cheering section, and seemed to consist of sleepy, bored students loitering between classes. The debate team itself was less lackadaisical. A dark-haired, bespectacled boy and a blonde woman, both clad in PCC blazers, were consulting intently with their coach. They turned toward Jeff and Annie as they walked toward the front of the room, and the blonde eyed Jeff with a smile. Annie stiffened and resisted the urge to glare. She had no claim on Jeff. Every leggy blonde in the world could smile lasciviously at him if they liked. Jeff's face showed only studied indifference.

As the team defending the issue, Jeff rose first to present their opening statement. He spoke mildly but well, only allowing himself to crack a smart-assed grin as he finished off with a particularly salient point. Their competitors appeared unfazed by Jeff's performance, and the woman walked to the podium with perfect composure. As she began spitting out pertinent, well-researched facts, Annie looked at Jeff anxiously. He shrugged and mouthed, "Irrelevant."

The judges' impassive faces revealed nothing as the debate progressed. Annie thought their rebuttals were apt, but the boy was as quick-witted as his teammate, and his response earned a few scattered whoops of support from the audience. When the time came for Annie to give her closing statements, she was brimming with tension, and as she shuffled her notes one last time, Jeff gripped her arm and said in a low voice, "You need to nail this."

She tried not to clank audibly as she took her position and presented her final points. Then, leveling her gaze at the judges' table, she went in for the kill. "For every one time a gun is fired to defend its innocent owner, a gun is fired four times in an accidental death or injury," (she partially untucked her blouse, pulled out the two guns at her waistband, and set them down on the podium) "seven times by a criminal, resulting in casualty or death" (out came the gun from the shoulder holster), "and eleven times for suicide, whether attempted or successful" (she withdrew the gun at her thigh as discretely as possible). "In the interest of healthy families, schools, and communities, those are unacceptable odds." There was scattered applause from the spectators, as well as a few wolf whistles. Annie returned to her seat and couldn't resist flashing a grin at Jeff, who returned it with a nod.

The boy on the opposition gave his closing statements, looking a good deal less cocksure than he had before, and cast a glare at Annie as he left the podium. The judges silently tabulated the score before one of them stood up and said, "Ordinarily we would frown upon props and gimmicks, but when coupled so effectively with excellent skills in logic and forensics, we must give the victory to - " here he paused for a significant moment, and someone in the audience yelled, "Get on with it, Tom Bergeron!" The judge frowned with incomprehension, and finished " - Greendale Community College."

Annie leaped to her feet, heady with triumph, and launched herself at Jeff. Surprised, he let out a strangled "Ummph," but caught her.

"We won!" she yelled somewhere in the vicinity of his left armpit.

"I think most of our wins are going to conclude with someone throwing themselves at me. At least your trajectory was shorter than Simmons's." She could hear the laugher in his voice, and his arms tightened around her.

Jeff released her as they were approached by their opponents. "I guess every tiny victory must seem sweet when you have to attend Greendale," the boy sneered.

"Suck it, Harry Potter," Jeff replied, towering over him.

Spluttering with rage, the boy stomped off, leaving his female teammate looking amused. "High school advanced placement program," she told them. "He's a pill." She stuck out her hand for them to shake. "Congratulations. Great job. Your ending points were brilliant, and it kills me I didn't think of the concealed weapon trick."

"That was Jeff," Annie said modestly.

"You're the one who executed it, though. Must be nice to be able to do this with your boyfriend."

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend! He's just – we're only - "

"Yeah," Jeff interjected. "Debate partners."

"Okay," she said with a dubious lift of her eyebrows. "I hope you're both in the program next year. I like having worthy opponents."

As the woman walked away, Annie turned to Jeff and said, "Did you really call that kid Harry Potter?"

"What if I did?"

"I'm surprised."

"Abed showed all the movies at Pierce's house over the summer. They explore some very complex themes."

Britta watched as Abed applied his Edward Cullen makeup: foundation a shade too light, faint circles under the eyes, a touch of mascara, and shading on the cheekbones to emphasize the hollows underneath.

It was, she had to admit to herself, alarmingly hot.

Abed caught her gaze in the mirror they were both looking in, and said, "It's influenced as much by Nosferatu as by modern vampire tropes. I wanted to up the horror factor."

Britta nodded.

"But I don't want to downplay the sexuality, either. The slightly feminized appearance of the Twilight vampires appeals to many women. I know I have it going on, so I don't want to mess with that," he said, deadpan.

Troy slammed the door behind him as he entered Abed's dorm. "Guys, they're picketing us!"

"Picketing what?" Britta asked.

"Us! Our movie! Look out the window!"

The three crowded in front of the window, which overlooked a parking lot for the dormitory. There were a dozen or so protesters who were marching in a circle and chanting,

"Join the rev-o-LU-tion!

Stop the fur-se-CU-tion!"

Some of them had signs with slogans like "Support the fur!" and "No more fur discrimination in movies!"

"What the fuck," Britta said.

"What do we do, Abed?" Troy looked at him.

Abed smoothed down his shirt and stood up straighter. "This is my Last Temptation of Christ moment," he said.

Britta and Troy stared at him, incredulous.

"No, not like that. Although it could be argued that there are some messianic traits in the vampire mythos, considering it deals with death, resurrection, immortality..."

"Abed."

"Sorry, Troy. I mean, Scorsese was picketed and his film was banned in multiple countries. Now I have to deal with that in microcosm at Greendale."

"This isn't garden-variety Greendale insanity, though," Britta said as they walked toward the parking lot. "I think there's something more to it."

The chants increased in volume as the protesters noticed their approach. Britta picked out some familiar faces in the crowd, including Starburns, Garrett, and Leonard. One girl waved her sign in Britta's face. "How can you perpetuate the hate? I thought you were progressive and open-minded!"

Abed strode into the middle of the crowd, with Britta and Troy trailing him. Several of the protesters shrank back, alarmed by his vampiric visage. Abed raised his voice. "You've been misinformed about the content of our film. Without revealing too much, it's a parody of a popular film franchise, and it has nothing to do with ridiculing special interest groups. Are any of you actually furries?"

"We were told that picketers got union wages," a student shrugged. Several others agreed.

"As an otherkin, I feel allied to the furry cause," Garrett said.

"I'll explain later," Abed whispered to Britta.

"Stallion animagus, motherfuckers!" Leonard shrieked, hoisting his sign higher aloft.

"That's from Harry Potter, moron," Dean Pelton hissed, appearing from behind an SUV. "Can't you get anything right?"

"Dean Pelton?" Britta said. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm – supporting student activism!" he said, fiddling with his tie.

"You paid them to protest, didn't you?" Britta stared him down.

"Being concerned about discrimination and social justice is in the best interest of every member of university - "

"College," Starburns interrupted.

" - college administration!" the dean finished, exasperated.

"Mmmhmmm," Troy said, arms crossed.

"All right! I may have encouraged them to become involved with an important, albeit overlooked issue!"

"Encouraged meaning bribed?" Troy wouldn't back off.

"Dean Pelton, why don't you come with us and look over the script? You can make sure yourself there's nothing offensive in it," Abed said.

"That might be a good idea," Dean Pelton conceded.

"It is a good idea." Britta grasped one of his elbows, and Abed took the other as they guided him back to the dorm.

"Go back to your ordinary activities!" Dean Pelton shouted over his shoulder at the bewildered former protesters. "I'll inform you of any further developments!"

Starburns tried to follow them into the dorm, but Troy shut the door in his face. "Furry issues concern me!" Starburns yelled from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, shaving shapes in your facial hair doesn't count!" Troy yelled back. "Does it?" he asked Dean Pelton.

"Definitely not."

"Good, thought so."

Abed handed Dean Pelton the script, and he paged through it with trembling hands.

"As you see, Jacob's wolf form is an important part of the story. His transformation is meant to represent the larger theme of the suppression of Native American masculinity," Abed said.

"I do see."

Britta leaned closer to the dean to confirm her suspicions. She was right: tears were streaming down the small man's face.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

"You wouldn't understand. None of you would." Dean Pelton was making no effort to conceal his sobs.

"Try us," Abed said gently.

"All of my life – all of it! I've been searching, wondering. I finally found the one thing that makes me feel happy and secure and right, and come to find out that it's ridiculed and hated by everyone. No respect. No confidence. I could lose my job if the wrong people found out."

"I can understand," Abed said. "That's almost what my life was like before I came to Greendale. I didn't have any friends. No one liked me. I was the weird guy with 'Assburgers' who spent his life watching TV and going to therapists. Now I've got six great friends, and we're all a little crazy, and I'm doing what I always wanted to do. So maybe there's hope for you, too."

"That was amazing, Abed," Britta said, moved.

"I'm not crying. There's uh, fur in my eyes," Troy sniffed.

Dean Pelton was staring at Abed with a hopeful look.

"You could play Jacob in his wolf form, if you wanted," Abed told him. "Troy hates wearing the suit, anyway."

"Yeah, I'll be Beauty and you be the Beast!" Troy wrinkled his face, thinking through his analogy. "Ah, never mind."

"My name couldn't be in the credits, of course," Dean Pelton said slowly.

"Of course not. Perfect anonymity. Alan Smithee," Abed assured him.

"Then I would be honored."

"Hey, how did you know what we were doing to begin with? Or that it had anything to do with animal costumes or suits?" Britta asked, eyes narrowed.

"I – well, I may have accidentally seen one of your rehearsals," Dean Pelton admitted.

"Creeper," Troy said.