A/N: By popular demand.

Once again, I love you all, my lovely reviewers. I only wish I could give replies to the anonymous people, because sometimes they leave comments that make my toes curl with glee. This is my reward to you. BTW, this was going to happen anyway. Seriously, just hang in there.

EDIT: Frick, I forgot to mention that this particular chapter is heavy with the self-injury (cutting). Sorry, but it's relevant, and it's not an emotional issue whatsoever. If you read it, you'll realize that, but I don't want to trigger anyone. ((hugs))

"Can you tell us what happened?" Cordelia asked the woman they had saved.

"I, uh…" she trailed off uncertainly brushing light brown hair off of her forehead. "I'm not even entirely sure, to be honest. You were there."

"Tell us what happened before you saw us," Gunn prompted.

"I was just walking home," she said, searching Cordelia's face and then Angel's, who was standing nearby. "To this crappy little studio apartment. Only, when I got there, it was all busted in. I thought I'd been robbed, but there was someone there, and…. He attacked me."

Cordelia looked at Angel, waiting for his reaction.

"The vampire chased her?" Angel asked, glancing to his side as Buffy silently came down the stairs to stand beside him.

"Yup," Cordelia nodded. "Five blocks, apparently. The place was trashed; we couldn't leave her there."

"Get this," Gunn added. "Before we offed the guy, he says, 'She has to die.'"

Angel considered this, staring at the woman who sat nervously, with a healing gash on her forehead. "Is there a reason why someone would want to kill you?"

She looked up at him, surprised. "Me? I-I'm only a cashier at this stupid little convenience store. The guy was a psychopath."

There was a pregnant pause as everyone waited for Angel to make a decision.

"Do you have a place where you can stay?" She shook her head slowly. "Well, then you're welcome to stay here," Angel told her. "Until we can figure out who has a vendetta against you."

"I'm sorry, but… how are you going to do that?"

"We have our resources," Angel replied. "But you'll have to cooperate with us."

"I'm not sure how far you'll get," she folded her arms anxiously. "The guy's already dead."

"He was dead when he attacked you, sweetheart," Cordelia pointed out.

"What?" her pretty mouth fell open in shock.

"Cordy, could you help her find a room?" Angel requested. "And make sure she's up to speed while you're at it."

"Sure thing." Cordelia took the woman's arm and guided her away and up the stairs. "How's that head?"

"I must have hit it pretty hard. Why are we doing this?"

"Because someone wants to kill you," Cordelia said brusquely. "And the sooner you fess up about what you are, or did, or know, the sooner Angel can do what he does best. Help you."

Angel turned to look at Buffy after the woman left. "What do you think?"

"She's a liar," Buffy said. "She knows a lot more than she's telling us."

"The girl just got attacked by a set of fangs," Gunn defended.

"You're probably right," Angel said to Buffy. "But we still have to protect her. She's still and innocent, and we have to help the helpless. She'll come around."

The front door swung open, and Dawn walked in, followed by Xander.

"Hey guys," Buffy greeted, somewhat surprised by their arrival. "How did your moviefest turn out?"

"Oh… great," Xander told Buffy. He stopped near his friends, nervously cracking his knuckles as he tried to think of a way to delicately broach the subject. "You've got a couple of sex-crazed lesbians in your house."

Buffy paused, bewildered. "What?"

"I think they're under a spell," Dawn told her sister. "Kennedy and Willow won't stop sexing each other."

"Did you… try to pull them apart or something?" Buffy scrunched up her nose, confused.

"No, no," Xander said quickly, waving his hands. "We didn't charge in or anything. World of badness, there."

"But the entire reason for our sleepover was so they could get frisky," Dawn said, "and when we go back, they're still… you know. Frisking each other."

Buffy's eyebrows rose, and she looked at Angel, who was busy trying to keep his mind in brooding mode.

"When you went home last night, were they still doing it?" Xander asked Buffy.

"I… I never went home," Buffy admitted. She frowned at Dawn's little shocked expression. "I stayed with Galen. He's in really bad shape, so I don't think I'll be leaving him for a while. But you're saying that they won't stop… boinking each other?"

Gunn swallowed thickly and stood up, lifting his sword. "Let's go save them. Or, you know… help them."

"With sharp, pointy weapons?" Xander questioned.

"I'm thinking cold bucket o' water," Dawn said. "Something to douse the flames before they end up having sex on the kitchen counter or something."

"Oh, God," Angel put a hand to his face at the imagery, and Gunn sat back down.

"Knowing Willow, there's probably a spell involved," Buffy said. "Maybe not even intentional, but…" she trailed off, mouth still open as Giles and Willow trooped in through the front door. They came to stand near the small gathering. "Willow. You're… wearing clothes."

"Thanks," Willow gave an embarrassed look and then gestured at Buffy. "You too! Go us. What did you need me for?"

"Need?" Buffy looked puzzled.

"I believe she could assist us in healing Galen," Giles said, taking off his glasses to clean them with a handkerchief from his pocket. "That is what you wanted, correct?"

"Oh, I can't do a spell," Willow objected anxiously. "I've still got the jitters from the last few you had me do-"

"Not a spell, Willow," Giles assured her. "Remember when we practiced channeling our energies?"

Willow exhaled and nodded, slowly. "In England."

"Yes," Giles put a hand on her shoulder. "All things are connected. You have… lots of energy… and it would be incredibly helpful if you could sit with him for a while."

"Well, I'm not really sure I have all that much energy," Willow looked up at her friends, paling somewhat. "I mean, after all of these really intense… spells."

"I'll help you, Wil," Buffy promised, giving the redhead a comforting smile. She put her arm around Willow, and Giles let his hand fall away as the girls walked off to go upstairs.

"I'll be along in a moment," Giles told Angel, and the vampire walked away as well. The watcher stood still for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose in concentration and then replaced his glasses on his face.

"Girl was getting her freak on when you went there, wasn't she?" Gunn asked, making Giles flush, Dawn try not to laugh, and Xander look traumatized.

"I'll be seeing if they need my assistance," Giles stated uncomfortably, heading upstairs.

"I'm not sure if this is going to help much," Willow warned them, able to feel the intense emotions that Angel and Buffy had for Galen getting better. She flinched when she saw Galen up close, and walked around the bed to feel the condition of the energies already present. Resting very lightly on the edge of the bed, Willow examined the visible extent of his injuries.

"Are you telling me it won't?" Buffy asked.

"No. It will. I just don't know if it will be enough. It's not just energy he needs. His body has to repair itself, which means it has to take matter from somewhere else. He's already underweight, and hasn't fed well—"

"He's been fed," Buffy informed Willow. "Don't worry about that. Can you channel your energy, or chi or whatever?"

Willow took a breath and nodded. "I think he'll be receptive."

"Find your center," Giles encouraged, entering the room just enough to be there with them, out of the way. "Find the pool of energies that resides in you, and let it flow out. Channel your energies into him."

Willow nodded and turned, pulling her feet up onto the bed and crossing her legs so she could sit comfortably beside Galen. She reached out and gently stroked Galen's face with the back of her hand, able to feel the rough scabs where he'd been attacked and cut. "Poor fellow. He's lucky to be alive."

Buffy folded her arms uncomfortably. "Yeah. He's very lucky."

Willow gave her a soft smile, then lifted Galen's wrist. She captured his hand between hers, resting it on her ankles as she closed her eyes. There was a long moment of tense silence and then Willow gasped, lifting her hands a little.

"What?" Buffy asked.

"I found it," Willow said, her eyes still closed. A small smile lit up her face. "It's like a little pulse, or something. A little place… and he's there. He's in there," she opened her eyes and leaned forward to run her hand over Galen's forehead. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Is he awake?" Buffy let her arms fall, watching Galen intensely.

"No," Willow shrugged a little and held onto Galen's hand again. "He's not really altogether, either. But he's there."

"Are you talking about an astral plane?" Giles questioned.

"I don't know," Willow frowned a little. "But I'm going to channel my energies there."

Buffy shifted anxiously. "Can I help you?"

"I think he'd like that," Willow smiled.

Buffy approached the bed and climbed up, turning towards Galen so there was enough room when she crossed her legs and settled in. She watched for a moment, stroking her finger over a strip of smooth skin on the back of his hand, then lightly over his scarred knuckles. She wrapped her hands around his fingers and held on, trying to feel the energies inside of herself.

"This might go better if we're alone for a while," Willow suggested to Angel and Giles. "Not that I don't appreciate the support, but it will work better if we achieved a trance of some sort. Give us maybe an hour, at least?"

"Certainly," Giles agreed, waiting for Angel's agreement.

"We'll be right downstairs," Angel told Buffy. He turned to leave, stopping short when he saw the woman they'd recently rescued looking in at the doorway. "You shouldn't be here."

"Wait," she protested when Angel started to walk towards her. She stared at Galen. "Is he dying?"

"Get her out of here, Angel," Buffy told him.

"Let's go downstairs," Angel suggested, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but she dodged his hand.

"I know him," she blurted out, still focused on Galen. "I've seen him before."

Angel stopped, hands falling and the woman slowly walked into the room, taking in a better view of Galen's bruised and scarred face.

"You know him?" Buffy asked her, staring up at the woman.

"I've spoken to him before," she nodded, swallowing at the realization of how hurt he was now. "We really… could I sit with him for a moment?"

Buffy stared at her. "No."

Her blue eyes widened in surprise at Buffy's rudeness. "I only want to see him. If he's dying—"

"Get out of here."

"Buffy," Willow said softly, letting go of Galen's hand. "If she knows him, then it might help."

"If he were awake, he'd want me to sit with him," the woman stated, staying brave.

Buffy stared at the woman and slowly lowered Galen's hand back onto the bed. Keeping a deadly gaze on the unwelcomed visitor, she climbed off of the bed.

The woman gave her a sort of half-smile and then ignored her. She sat on the edge of the bed, where Buffy had been sitting, and held Galen's hand, wrapping her fingertips around to press lightly against his wrist. As soon as she made contact with the thin skin, so close to the arteries, wisps of information came to her. While she outwardly made puppy eyes and stroked his skin, she was leeching into his mind, triggering dreams, letting memories fire off and leak. She could feel that he was already close to death, feel freshly untapped power just waiting in his belly. There so many nooks and crannies that she could easily slip into, but she needed to find the perfect niche.

"Exactly what did you say your name was?" Buffy interrupted the deep connection. All of the required information was already acquired, and she could take more later.

The woman let go of Galen's wrist and turned her head to look at Buffy. "Sarah." She reached out and stroked Galen's head delicately. "I knew Galen when he was in my group. He made me feel welcomed." Sarah waited for a moment and then stood up and slowly headed for the door. "I should let him sleep. I can visit him another time."

"You're not visiting him again," Buffy shook her head, making Sarah pause, surprised.

"We were best friends," Sarah frowned at Buffy, trying to think of exactly what Buffy was to Galen, but she hadn't found very much connection at all. "When he wakes up, he'll want to see me."

"You won't be around when he wakes up," Buffy stated coldly, "and he'll never know you were here."

"Who do you think you are –?"

"Going. Now," Angel stated, nudging Sarah towards the door to avoid a catfight. "Arguing isn't solving anything. Let's go downstairs."

"Buffy," Willow said. "If she's really someone Galen knew, it'll probably help his recovery to have her around."

"The girl is a liar," Buffy stated, sitting down on the bed again. "I don't want her touching him."

"Jealousy doesn't become you. He isn't yours, Buffy," Giles reminded her. "Even though you may love him very much, it's still his decision."

"So far, things from his past haven't been very good," Buffy pointed out, but Giles remained firm. "How can you believe that?"

Giles sighed softly. "I think you're still afraid of letting him go."

Buffy stared at him. "I'm not letting him go," she said quietly.

"He isn't yours, Buffy," Giles said again.

"Yes he is," Buffy said. "Giles, if he knew everything, he wouldn't look at that girl twice."

"That isn't the matter at hand."

"Please leave, Giles," Buffy requested.

He closed his mouth into a grim line of disapproval and left the room, shutting the door behind him. He was somewhat surprised to see Wesley and Fred standing in the hall, looking as if they had been planning to go into the room.

"Is he okay?" Fred asked. "We thought that… we should make sure he was okay."

"He's not out of the woods yet," Giles answered, already trying to shake off Buffy's childish behavior. "Willow is sitting with him at the moment. She intends to help him heal by channeling her energies."

Wesley nodded. "That should be useful."

"There's nothing else to do at the moment except wait," Giles concluded. He gave Wesley and Fred a look-over, noting that they had just happened to visit together, and each looked a bit disheveled. He walked by them slowly, prepared to let it go, but just couldn't this time. "Although, I imagine you've found something else to bide your time."

"Rupert," Wesley breathed while Fred blushed. "Don't go about imagining things."

The older man chuckled and walked away, leaving them to their devices.

"What would you like to do to bide our time?" Wesley asked Fred.

"I don't know what you're going to do, but I need a shower," Fred answered.

"Right," Wesley pressed his lips together grimly. "There is a volume I've been meaning to get around to…."

"You're hopeless, Wesley," Fred sighed, locking his hand in his to purposefully drag him away.

The redhead took a breath. "Could you believe that girl?" she asked after a long moment. "Trying to steal your unconscious, beaten-to-a-bloody-pulp stud away from you? Major ho."

Buffy tried to smile. "Thanks, Wil. Let's just focus on the meditation thingy, okay?"

"Alright," Willow agreed, letting Buffy get comfortable again. She picked up Galen's hand again and cupped her hands around his until she was relaxed again, closing her eyes and preparing to tap into him and seek out where he was hiding.

"Whoa."

Buffy lifted her head. "What? What 'whoa'?"

"Um… there's definitely something there. Now. A lot of activity. Do you feel it?"

Buffy looked down at Galen and picked up his hand, closing her eyes quickly and trying to find the meditative space that would let her pick up the same sensations. "What is it?"

"Remember I told you he was in a very small space?" Willow reminded her friend. "Well, that space got a helluva lot bigger."

Buffy kept her eyes closed and dug into the reserves of her energy. When she visualized directing that energy through her fingers, into Galen, it suddenly seemed she could feel something. It was like having racing thoughts that weren't her own, only she couldn't quite pick up on what they were about. "Is he dreaming?"

"I think so," Willow smiled a little. "Maybe we sort of woke him up. If we focus, we might be able to see what he's dreaming about."

Buffy smiled and bit her lip, wiggling her butt to get comfortable. "I wonder if he still dreams about shoes…."

"How do you know Galen?" Dawn asked Sarah, staring at the brunette.

"We were in the same group," Sarah explained to her, as well as the others who were listening. "Group therapy. He didn't talk much, but we looked out for each other. How has he been?"

"It's… an on and off thing," Dawn replied.

The woman shook her head remorsefully. "He can't be doing very well, the way he's all busted up like that. Who did that to him?"

"Some skeezy people," Cordelia answered.

"Well, if I was his girlfriend, I'd beat the living daylights out of whoever banged him up like that," Sarah said, gesturing to herself.

"You're not his girlfriend," Cordelia reminded her.

Sarah paused. "Is that woman upstairs his girlfriend?"

"She likes him," Dawn answered, hedging the subject.

"Does he like her back?" Sarah questioned, waiting for a response. "'Cause he really liked me. He would hold my hand everyday, even when he didn't need to. We shared everything together."

"Sounds like a real romance," Xander said. "And this was in the hospital?"

"Look, I was just attacked by a blood-sucking freak. I don't need to be judged right now." Sarah waited and then sighed and looked around. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

Angel pointed it out to her and she left, shutting and locking the door behind her. Crucial elements were coming to her as she processed the downloaded memories. Blending into the background was proving harder than normal, even though she thought she'd found a perfect inlet. She'd never really done impersonation work to latch onto someone so socially connected. All things considered, it was going well, but there were a few glitches that needed to be fixed. As the streams of memories pulled together, she was finding a gap in her persona. Sarah was a cutter, and Galen always held her hands. He'd stroke his fingers over the scars again and again. She knew that much, and she also knew that her wrists were unblemished. That had to change.

Keeping an ear open to the noise beyond the bathroom door, Sarah rifled through the cabinet until she found a disposable razor. She turned on the faucet, letting a stream of water give her some cover noise, and rolled up her sleeves. She wrapped the blade in toilet paper and cracked the head open on the side of the sink. After that, she carefully pried apart the shattered plastic to retrieve one of the blades.

She visually judged where to place the scars and then sliced across her veins with cold, calculated precision, barely feeling a thing as she forced the blade through. When one cut was made, she added another and another until she had several scars on her wrists. They barely bled, as she had little blood to spill, and she willed them to heal even faster than normal. She repeated the process with the other arm, and then set the bloodied scrap of silver on the edge of the sink while she washed up.

A human would have bled to death from just a few of the cuts. Sarah was left with a few raised scars, like old wounds. She examined the precise work and then rolled down her sleeves, turning off the water. The blade and shards from the disposable razor were disposed of in the trashcan. She wiped up any blood that had dripped onto the floor, tossed the tissues into the toilet bowl and then flushed away the evidence.

Problem solved.

Sarah exited the bathroom, returning to the group. "Where were we? Oh, that's right. You were harassing me."

"We weren't harassing you," Dawn protested. "We weren't trying to. We're just concerned. For Galen."

"I'm concerned for him, too," Sarah said, sitting down on the arm of the couch. "Don't you think it kills me to find my friend again, and see him like this?"

"You have other problems to worry about," Cordelia said. "Like whoever wants to kill you."

She sighed softly. "I don't know much about that. But I trust that you can help me?"

"We'll do everything that we can," Angel promised.

Sarah smiled sadly and stood up again, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "This is all kind of overwhelming, I guess. I never thought I'd see Galen again, and then – bam – there he is. Only I can't talk to him. If I could talk to him, you'd see. We really clicked."

"We don't know when he's going to wake up," Dawn said quietly.

"Or if," Xander reminded them. The reminder was very unwelcomed.

"He's strong," Sarah said.

"That he is," Angel agreed. Maybe the girl really knew Galen after all.

It was stronger now, like a stream of consciousness. Buffy could feel the force of it. It wasn't powerful, but it was enough. It felt as if a cool push of energy was going through her brain. When she focused, she was absorbed into it, and she could almost see. She wondered if it was how Galen saw the world.

Objects were like vague, black shadows of themselves, only visible by the dim light that made them into silhouettes. Her skin itched vaguely. A thousand eyes pressed in from all directions, with an enormous weight that settled heavily in her chest. Made it hard to breathe. She heard voices at the back of her head, and then they grew clearer, like a lens focusing. When she turned around, she left herself. She saw a light; a defined spot in the distance that banished away the surrounding darkness. More lights dotted the shapeless sky. The ground was cold. The smell of vomit and window spray was overpowering. Someone wanted her to share all of her secrets, but they didn't ask. They demanded. Expectantly. She felt exposed, with a panic settling into her stomach. The world wasn't real. She wanted to hurl. The walls shrank away a million miles and then wanted to crush her and suck her inside of them, into their greedy bellies where the sad ones went to rot. A gentle hand in her hands brought her back to contextual reality. Everything was so hard to hold onto, so easily slipping off, sloughing away like rainwater. She clenched the hand more tightly in her grasp. It suddenly came sharply into her mind that she had forgotten something very important. It was worth more than breathing, but she couldn't think of what it was, and the grief sent her sinking to the floor and through the floor into the ground. It was smaller there. Quiet. She could think without feeling.

"We lost him again."

Buffy physically jolted as she came back, realizing in a daze that she'd slipped off into some sort of a trance. At the same moment, Galen drew a breath so sharp that it made his chest jerk upwards for a second, capturing their attention.

"Galen?" Buffy asked, to no response. She reached out and stroked her palm over the side of his head, and he turned into it fractionally. "Is he awake?"

They waited for a very long time, to no reaction, except for his very slow breathing.

"He was right here," Buffy whispered. "Now he's gone."

"Buffy?" Willow looked concerned, and then sympathetic. "We lost him again," she repeated. "Inside, I mean. I don't know where he went, but he went away."

"He hid," Buffy stated, looking down at Galen's hand in hers. She'd forgotten she was holding it. "It's so lonely in there."

"You were in his dream?" Willow asked, amazed. She had skimmed along his subconscious, but was unable to enter and didn't force herself through. Instead, she'd focused purely on channeling her energies.

"I don't know," Buffy said. "I think I saw what he sees. Or maybe what goes through his head when things are bad. It's so hard to see anything in there, Wil. To tell the difference between what's real and what isn't real. And there's so much fear… confusion. All that he has is the physical connection to this place. Someone to hold onto," she added, squeezing Galen's hand.

Willow smiled. "Guess that's why he gets so snuggly."

"And why he likes to have someone hold his hand, no matter who it is," Buffy said. "I wanna be the girl whose hand he wants to hold more than anyone else."

"I think he'd like that," Willow whispered sincerely, happy for her friend. "I know that he would."

Buffy nodded, slightly, barely able to breathe as emotions threatened to consume her. She rested her elbows on her knees, bringing Galen's hand to her lips and kept it there, closing her eyes to avoid remembering that all of Galen that was good had died. All that was left of him were echoes of his memories, and a demon trapped somewhere inside, waiting to be let out.

Sarah waited in her room until the only noise that could be heard was the groaning of the old hotel as it settled. She sat at the center of her bed, as still as a statue, staring at the wall. But she wasn't looking at the wall. The witching hour was at hand. It was the time when all nasty demons went to play. In the minute between 12:00 and 12:01, an hour existed, which was only accessible to certain nasty demons. Sarah was already out and ready to have some fun.

Her snake skin whispered when she traveled through the walls, lighter than an imaginary breath that an Old One sighed as he died. She entered Galen's room, melting in and out of shadows. His wannabe-girlfriend was curled beside him, as if her physical presence could keep the monsters at bay. She was beyond wrong.

Sarah moved closer to the bed, the scent of death in the air a heightening aphrodisiac to her. She ran her nails over her chest, scratching over every stark rib and leaving lines of congealed blood on her pale yellow skin. Something about tonight made her skin want to itch right off. She hadn't felt desire like that in a long time.

Galen was the perfect prey. So close to death, so full of wasted life. So handsome. He would be much more satisfying than her usual marks. It was all too easy to pick off the elderly, to put them on their death beds and then end it. They were barely worth her time, since she got so little out of them. They were just food to her, and not much fun to fuck with. She preferred hunting the strays. And as secure as the others thought Galen was, he was so far away from them.

The temptation to kill this prey outright was strong, but she wasn't that kind of girl. She climbed onto the bed, emaciated body settling over him. The bed sank slowly as she allowed herself to take a corporeal form. The witch had spent hours channeling her energies into him. Wasted time. She was going to have so much fun sucking it out. She could leech on him for days, and off of the others' misery as they watched his progress wan. Watched him wither away and die. The girlfriend would be easy to feast on after that, but she'd leave her alive. Barely.

Sarah leaned over Galen, dragging one chipped talon down over his lips, slicing the tender flesh. She watched the warm blood fill up, then leant down and licked it off. "So sweet," she murmured, her icy breath against his face. "But I need more information. Let's see what's going on inside."

She leaned up enough to pull the sheets off of him, exposing the lean, naked body underneath. The wounds made her more excited, and she squeezed her thighs around him as she dragged her talons over the scabs, opening them up again. Galen made a small noise and then whimpered softly, like a child crying.

"Shh, baby," she purred, reaching out her other hand again and resting her finger on his lips. "It's going to hurt so much more, and you need to be a good boy."

When he lay still again, Sarah lapped the blood off of him, nipping at flaking scabs. He tasted like clover and resin. Flashes of his memories went off in her head like sparks, revealing more information to her. Pain – loneliness – violence. It was perfect. It was delicious. She slid her thigh over him, grinding down against his hip, overcome with desire for this kill. But that wasn't anything special; it was merely blood lust. Her palm grazed over his lips while her other hand scratched lightly at his stomach, finding the perfect spot.

Stage two of the fun came when she mortally wounded her victim. It made things so much more fun to watch them struggle for life before their little session ended. With a final decision, she clamped her hand over his mouth, and nose, cutting off his air. Pressing into his belly, she tore her talons into his skin, puncturing the pale stomach with her fingers. With great pleasure, she shoved her hand down, savoring the slick push inside of him. Blood gushed and flowed out around her wrist, sliding off of his sides as his body undulated in resistance. Sarah laughed at his struggles, pressing down on him with her weight to keep him still.

His insides throbbed around her fist. It was better than fucking.

A/N: Mercy? What the hell is that?