"So, Riley, how can you explain this? Because it looks to me like you stood me up the other day, you didn't call, you didn't find me and explain, you're just..." Buffy gestured at the other camouflage clad men, her mind trying to figure out why they could really be out here. The camouflage could have been explained as paintball, maybe, but not with those weapons. "It looks like you're out hanging with your friends."

"Who's he anyhow?" Riley gestured towards Scott, looking faintly jealous.

"Nice try, but I want answers." Buffy glared at him, not quite ignoring the other man. "What's with the sci-fi guns, and why the camouflage? Not that it really blends here."

"Paintball?" Riley offered weakly.

"Sorry, but I'm not buying that."

One of the other soldiers moved slightly, as if he was trying to get a better look at her without making any threatening moves. "Better spill, Finn. She's got a sword, and I think she knows how to use it."

"If I said that there are dangerous things out at night, would you believe me?" Riley asked, his shoulders going back and slightly more tense.

Buffy snorted, thinking over the past four years of her life. "Vampires, demons... I know that. I didn't know that you knew that, but I do know that they're out here. That's why I have a sword."

"A sword... she's out hunting demons with a sword?" The same guy who'd advised Riley to explain muttered, his words almost too soft for Buffy to hear.

"err... yeah." Riley looked flustered, as if he'd expected denial and maybe hysterics. "Well, there's a program... It's through the military, and they're aware of the dangers of hostile sub-terrestrials. It's our job to find, subdue and detain these... hostiles."

"Does this have to do with a jeep full of guys in camouflage roaring through town earlier?" Scott asked, his main focus on the other guy, the one that Buffy thought might be Forrest.

Scowling, Forrest nodded. "Yeah. Somehow, a group of hostiles escaped. There's several of us out to relocate and recapture the escapees."

"Well, what type are they?" Buffy asked, wondering just how many 'escapees' they were trying not to talk about. And how did they get out from... wherever you were keeping them?"

"Several vampires, but most of them were other things. We don't know what all of them were, and some of them are very dangerous." The words emerged from the third guy, and he was giving Buffy this oddly measuring look.

"How could they just... escape?" Scott's question burst out, sounding almost angry.

"I don't know!" Riley sounded angry and defensive. Buffy had the distinct feeling that someone had been demanding that same answer, or connected ones quite a lot.

"They didn't just happen to escape." Forrest's tone was unhappy. "Someone let them out."

"I wasn't even there!" Riley glared at his friend. "I was running a study session for the psych class."

"Wait, someone let these... someone let the vampires out?" Scott sounded baffled. "Why on earth would anyone deliberately...?"

"Do either of you have a pencil?" The question from the quiet man seemed out of place.

Buffy just stared at him, wondering what he was thinking. "Now isn't really the time for emergency study sessions, or taking notes."

"I think... look, do you have a pencil or not?" He asked, looking frustrated by something. "I've been looking for one all day, and nobody seems to use them anymore."

Frowning, Buffy checked her jacket, finding a little stub of a pencil no longer than her palm. "Just this one. What's the big deal, got a major test coming up?"

"There was... someone in the halls today. They'd been taking notes on a clipboard, but...." He shook his head, apparently not wanting to explain everything. "I want to see what they were writing."

"Okay..." Buffy passed over the stub.

He pulled a couple pages of paper from a pocket and began to rub the pencil lead over them, leaving a faint gray color over most of it, and rows of white markings standing out. They looked like Russian, and the slant was weird looking.

"What was something like that doing at UC Sunnydale?" Buffy couldn't quite keep from asking. "And who was writing it?"

"Left handed Russian..." He shook his head, a faint smile on his face. "That makes sense, it was an imposter. But how could he have gotten in there to begin with?"

Buffy looked at him, wondering exactly what sort of sense this made to him. "And for the rest of us? Why does that make any sort of sense?"

"The person who wrote this... They looked like they belonged, but the actions weren't quite right. And none of us would be writing left handed Russian. I don't think any of us even know enough Russian to take notes in the language. So, we had an imposter who somehow bypassed security, slipped in, enabled the escape, and got away." He shook his head a moment before continuing. "I just wish I knew how they got past all the security. There's voice and fingerprint recognition."

Buffy blinked, a bad feeling forming in her stomach. "Scott? How good is that Mystique? Good enough to cover finger prints?"

"Yeah. She's even managed to bypass retinal scanning." Scott swallowed hard. "Mystique let out the demons and vampires. But... I don't see what it would gain her."

"She? The person that I saw was a man." He was frowning now, and glanced back at the paper before offering the pencil stub back to Buffy.

"Mystique's a shape shifter." Scott's voice was low, full of questions and unhappiness. "She's also a mutant, and worked with Magneto. I just don't know what she would see as an advantage to something like that."

"Unless it wasn't the escaped demons that were the goal." Buffy spoke slowly, worry filling her. "What if the whole point of releasing the demons was so that all of you soldiers would be out trying to catch them? It's a really effective diversion if the real goal is to try something at your base. Arrange for a swarm of little problems elsewhere..." Images of the library in disarray, of Giles kidnapped, of Kendra killed filled her mind, and Buffy tried to push the memories back.

"I'd better radio the possibility back to Central. The idea that this could be a diversion..." Riley shuddered.

"Better let me. You know that she's still pissed at you." Forrest spoke, pulling a radio from his belt.

Looking at the quiet one, Buffy asked the question. "Was the person who was acting off... did they look like Riley?"

The man in camouflage just nodded.

Buffy groaned, certain that this was yet another effort at dating that had just been skewered and deflated. Her maybe boyfriend had been impersonated in order to let out a bunch of demons, and would probably be sent to military prison or somewhere that measured their annual rainfall in hand-fulls or in meters and monsoons. "What a mess."

end part 23.

Xander picked up the phone, not even needing to think about it as he dialed Willow's number. He had the feeling that Vic's explanations, however limited, would be complicated, and Willow was good at sorting out complicated. Once they figured out how Vic had ended up shot, still carrying bullets in him, and looking rather worse for wear, then… Well, they'd probably have to call Giles to figure out how to get rid of it.

"Who're you calling?" Vic's deep rumble almost seemed to echo in the kitchen.

"I'm calling Willow. Those answers… I have the feeling they add up to a complicated mess. She's better at sorting out complicated. And her hands don't shake as much, which would probably help with those other bullets." Xander tried to remain calm. He was helping Vic, he was safe, right? He decided to hold firm on that idea, regardless of the likelihood of it.

:Hello?: Willow's voice had that distracted sound that he'd come to associate with homework and research.

"My bestest friend in the whole world… I've got a bit of a situation here, and could use some help. Can you come over?" Xander asked, not wanting to go into any details over the phone.

:Work situation, or… family? Or maybe one of those extracurricular things?: Willow's voice sounded tired, and he could hear the faint beep as her computer shut down.

"Kind of family and extracurricular. It's important though." He hoped that's he'd just let her questions wait until she could get here. He didn't know how important timing was, but he did know that having the bullets in him couldn't be comfortable for Vic.

:Okay, I can be there in maybe ten minutes? You can explain everything then, or at least, enough.: She sounded as if a break was welcome, which could only mean that her project was frustrating her.

Xander wasn't certain if the time between the call and Willow's arrival dragged or flew. He just tried to clean the blood away from Vic, figuring that seeing the wounds clearly would be necessary to remove the bullets that were still there. Vic was mostly quiet, alternating drumming his fingers and claws against the table and another two of those horrible coughing fits.

"Hey Xander, I'm here. I hope that you can…" Willow's voice called out, moving closer as she made her way in from the door. She paused in the kitchen doorway, staring at Vic, her eyes wide. "Oh my. What happened to him?"

"I got captured, then I was shot while escaping. Can you get the other bullets out?" Vic's rumble sounded halfway to a growl.

Xander half expected Willow to squeak and retreat, just from the sound of Vic. He looked at the tub, wincing at the red hue of the water. "I found him in the park. I couldn't just leave him there, not when it was getting dark out."

Willow made a small noise, sort of like a hum, and moved closer. She was stepping lightly, her eyes watching Vic the whole time, wary, filled with questions. "Captured by who, or should it be what? Why did they grab you? Where did they keep you?"

"Soldiers with stun guns, and real ones." He growled, his claws digging grooves into the table top. "The place was a cell, poured concrete, narrow vents, underground. I think Military, and I smelled hospital scents. As for why… how should I know?"

"Are you a mutant, or a demon?" Willow's question was low, and her fingers skimmed over his back, circling around a dark place that had been a gaping hole, and probably still held a bullet. "And should we be asking which the soldier people thought that you were?"

Xander shivered, disturbed and envious of the rapid healing. "If they had you… who or what else did they have? Vampires? Demons? Mutants?"

"They had vampires. Other things to, but I couldn't identify those. I thought mutants, but… what's this about demons?" Vic glanced at Xander, fixing him with one dark eye.

"Demons are real. As real as vampires, as real as mutants. Some of them are really nasty, out for the whole death, dismemberment and the end of the world. Others are… not so dangerous, and just kick back to watch Saturday football with a bowl of fish entrails." Xander shuddered, thinking about all the things they'd encountered. "We've run into a lot of the dangerous types."

"Huh. That might explain some of the strange smells." Vic frowned, and muttered towards Willow. "You might as well just cut them out already, they itch."

"I didn't think that you'd ever be back in Sunnydale. Not after you split up from Xander's aunt." Willow's voice was soft, and she opened her backpack, producing what looked remarkably like a scalpel. "It's not the sort of place most people come back to again and again."

"I thought the ocean would be soothing." Vic grunted as Willow sliced open the dark spot. "And I ended up with… nnnn."

"In English?" Xander asked, curious just what Vic had found to stay in Sunnydale for.

"I've got an art exibit. Paintings." His voice was low, barely audible. "And I had… ouch! Leave the nerves there, damn it!"

"sorry. It – the bullet - was pressing against it, I think." Willow's voice sounded shaken, and she had one hand held away with the scalpel as the other was held about an inch away from the wound, and had this faint golden haze around it.

"And?" Xander prompted, not wanting to consider Willow magicking the bullets out of Vic.

"I had a date. With the Gallery owner." He growled for a moment, just before the bullet emerged with a sucking sound. "A pretty blond, seemed sweet. That's probably shot to hell – how would I explain this anyhow?"

Xander blinked, staring at Vic. The odds were just… It was such a huge coincidence. It sounded like he was talking about Buffy's mom. "A blond woman who owns the Gallery… Joyce Summers?"

"Yeah." Vic smiled, looking almost distracted from the situation.

"Well, that both weirds me out, and simplifies things. You get ahold of her, and if you still want to go out with her, tell her that it was something Hellmouthy, but you're okay now. Then, you figure out when you can do something." Xander shivered, finding the idea that Buffy's mom might date one of his almost-uncles just too weird.

"Hellmouthy?" Vic looked unhappy, and seemed to concentrate on the word. "A Hellmouth… Tentacles with teeth? I can almost remember… no. It's gone."

"Umm… one of those almost memories again? Should I take this to mean that maybe it wasn't some Vietnam complication like Sue claimed?" Xander blinked, wondering when and how Vic had encountered a Hellmouth. The description matched so scarily…

"I can't remember where, but it was scientists. They did… something, and took my memories." The words were growled, and the table acquired a new set of gouges. Vic looked really unhappy about the whole situation.

"So you ran into more scientists, working with highly armed men in camouflage. Maybe this is similar in some ways to what happened to you before." Willow had that tone that meant she was analyzing. "Something seems to have… really got to you about this. There, last bullet's out."

"Good." For a moment, Vic almost smiled. "Ahhh…. Cell phone. How should I call her without the damn phone?"

"Use the one here. Speed dial number three – Summers residence. She's got a daughter my age." Xander smiled. "Willow and I will just go let you talk to her in peace."

End part 24.