Maggie Walsh calmly took off her coat and draped it over a chair before turning to the agents that had been waiting at her office door. "Just so I get this straight, you saw what you assumed was Nemesis's car and..."

"My car," Angel broke in.

"As I said, the car you thought she was driving." The forty-two year old shot him a hard look. "Then you followed her, leaving the house unlocked and the painting unprotected."

"No..." Spike answered. "Bernie was there."

"Bernie," Walsh gave him a sharp look, "isn't my problem. You two, on the other hand, are turning out to be major pains in my..."

A knock on the door cut her off as Susan looked in. "Your 7 o'clock appointment's here."

"Thank you, Mrs. Conway," Walsh answered. "I'll just be a minute."

She nodded and closed the door, and Walsh turned back to Spike and Angel. "This is becoming embarrassing," she almost hissed as she gave them threatening looks. "I want her caught."

"She will be," Angel answered. "She's taking too many chances."

"Yes," she agreed. "And that should make her easier to catch, shouldn't it, Mr. O'Connor?"

"It should," Angel answered as he met her eyes.

"Then let's hope her next stunt will be her last as a free woman." She looked at them skeptically. "That's assuming the two of you are up to the job of catching her."

"She's been lucky," Spike answered firmly. "It won't last."

"Angel."

He looked up before glancing at the newspaper Gunn tossed on his desk. The headline was simply 'Nemesis?' over the top of a couple of photos. The first showed a woman in a vintage pink convertible sitting at a stop sign with the top down. Clearly shown in the back seat was a large square looking bag that could easily have held a 2 foot by 3 foot painting. It was the second picture though that caused his eyes to narrow. In that one you could make out the word 'Angels' on the license plate. He ran a hand through his hair before looking up when Gunn slapped him on the back.

"Sorry, buddy. With any luck it's a fake photo, and your car isn't pink right now."

Angel looked back down at the 'Gabby Gossip'. "There's no way..." he broke off as he studied the pictures. "I mean, she wouldn't have..." he broke off again before looking up when Gunn started to walk away.

"Just think of it as incentive," the other agent did a fist pump and called over his shoulder.

"Anything Red?"

Willow Rosenberg looked up, shook her head. "We couldn't find any fingerprints in Mrs. Marlowe's car or house that shouldn't be there."

Spike sighed. "Okay. We knew it was a long shot."

He turned to go but stopped when Willow called his name. "You've seen the photo of the pink convertible?" she asked. He nodded, and the redhead tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "It might be possible to find out who recently painted a '67 Plymouth pink."

"We thought about that, but there's no proof it's Angel's car."

"What about the license plate?"

Spike shrugged. "Someone might want us to *think* it's his car."

Willow frowned and looked back at the newspaper laying on her desk. "It does look a little grainy."

Spike glanced at the paper before sighing. "Well, I've got to run. Supposed to meet with a Darla Chambers at noon. She was the one driving the Plymouth last night."

Willow nodded as she continued to frown thoughtfully at the picture.

Angel got out of the mustang he'd rented and entered the office of the Holiday Inn where Mrs. Marlowe's car had been stolen. The man behind the counter quickly got to his feet with a professional smile. "How can I help you, sir?"

"I'm agent O'Connor," the brunette introduced himself as he flashed a badge, "and I'm here for last night's surveillance tapes of the parking lot."

The man nodded as he reached into a drawer and pulled out a flash drive. "This is the one you want. I ran it off for you this morning."

Angel took the thumb drive, thanked him, and turned to go before turning back thoughtfully. "How many cameras do you use?"

"Five. One for each section of the parking lot."

"And there's no way someone could change the camera views to a different section?"

"No sir." He motioned behind him at the screens showing different angles of the lot. "The recordings are done from the office. That's the one you came to get."

Angel nodded his thanks before taking a quick tour of the parking lot and climbing back into his rental. He had one more stop to make before he could get back to HQ. He wasn't looking forward to it.

Spike got off the phone with a frustrated sigh. So far Darla's story was checking out. Rupert Giles did own the car she'd been driving last night... and he was untouchable. A top-notch lawyer that catered to an exclusive clientele. The man didn't have as much as a speeding ticket against him.

The bleached blonde took a sip of coffee and frowned thoughtfully. Her story was plausible. She'd had access to the car and simply taken it for a drive that night. He snorted. Such a simple explanation for something that had allowed Nemesis to make good on her threat. He was brought out of his thoughts by someone stopping beside his desk.

He looked up. "Hey," he greeted as he studied his partner's expression. "How'd the press conference go?"

"The first question..." Angel started. "Do you want to take a guess what it was?" Spike shook his head, and the brunette continued, "Mr. O'Connor, are there any legal actions the Marlowes can take against you for leaving their door unlocked while Nemesis stole their property?"

Spike's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"We didn't leave it unprotected. One of L.A.'s finest was there." He was silent for a moment before moving to drop into the chair at his desk tiredly. "Are you ready for the second one?" Spike nodded and Angel continued, "Mr. O'Connor, who fired at the young lady in the convertible, and what actions will be taken against the shooter?"

Spike slowly shook his head before laughing. "I'm glad it was you instead of me." He sobered. "Do we even know who made that shot?"

"No. None of the cops are claiming responsibility, and it could be that none of our people even did it." Angel went silent for a moment. "I mean, think about it. Darla said she ran from us because someone fired at her. If there hadn't been a shot, she supposedly wouldn't have run, and Nemesis wouldn't have had it nearly as easy stealing the painting as she did."

"I've been pretty much thinking the same thing," Spike agreed. "But we're going to need more to go on. Her story checks out."

Angel glanced up. "She owns a '67 Plymouth?"

"Has access to one," Spike corrected with a faint skeptical smile. "She was just taking a drive."

Angel nodded before holding up a flash drive. "I picked this up at the Holiday Inn Mr. and Mrs. Marlowe were staying at when their car was stolen."

Spike walked over to Angel's desk with interest as the brunette ran the video on his monitor. It wasn't the break in the case they were hoping for. Nemesis never looked at the camera, and the large hat she was wearing cast dark shadows over her face. The only thing they could tell was she was dressed almost identical to Mrs. Marlowe, and it had taken her just about a minute to drive out of the lot with the car once she'd started working on the locks.

Angel rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. It had been a long night and the day hadn't gotten any better. "Anything?"

"No." The screen was freeze framed on Nemesis walking into the lot, and Spike leaned back against the wall and studied it.

"I can't..." Angel broke off with frustration and turned to look at Spike. "We had her. She was in the house with us. We gave her coffee."

"We couldn't have done anything," Spike answered. "Not until she'd done something illegal."

Angel didn't respond. He *wanted* Nemesis. There was something about her he couldn't deny was under his skin.

"You've got mail," the voice over his computer a couple of hours later caused Angel to check his messages. "It's from Willow," he stated before punching it up.

The pictures in the email were enhanced duplicates of the ones that had been on the front page of the 'Gabby Gossip'. Nemesis was looking straight ahead, seemingly unaware of the photograph being snapped. She was again wearing an oversized hat that looked to be the same one she'd been wearing when she'd stolen Mrs. Marlowe's car.

A low laugh came from behind him, and Angel looked over his shoulder to see Spike motion back toward his computer. "Did you read the note she attached?"

The brunette frowned before turning back to skim the lines of text below the picture.

I've made a few inquiries into who painted a 1967 Plymouth GTX convertible pink recently, but so far no luck. I think you'll see Spike's 'big bad' magnet on the glove box if you look closely.

-Willow

Angel studied the glove box and was able to make out the magnet Spike had stuck on it. He scowled before looking over his pink car and the stylish thief driving it. "I want to be the one to take her in."

"I imagine every cop in L.A. would say the same," Spike responded as he sipped at his coffee and studied the picture.

"No," Angel disagreed. "I mean, it's personal." Spike raised an eyebrow and his partner turned to look at him. "She likes games. Maybe I do as well."

"I'm listening."

"Why don't we set her up at a time and place where it's our game instead of hers? We could issue her a challenge."

"It may work if we can make her feel safe enough to take us up on it, while putting a trap in place she doesn't see coming," Spike answered thoughtfully.

Angel glanced at his watch. "Our shift's over in 10 minutes. Want to brainstorm?"

Spike nodded. "We can give it a shot."

Buffy couldn't stop from smiling as she began her daily jog. It had been fun playing games with the cops, but Angel and Spike... They were the most fun she'd had yet.

Her plan had gone perfectly and was well worth the extra trouble it had taken to achieve it. She'd been a little concerned when Ethan had given the decoy job to Darla, but the slightly older blonde had gotten the job done.

Of course, the icing on the cake was the shot of her in Angel's car *with* the painting in the back seat. Her grin widened. She'd of loved to have seen the look on their faces when they'd gotten a good look at that one.

A car honked, and she looked up to see Riley wave as he drove by. She waved at the agent she'd known since sixth grade before turning her thoughts back to the job she'd pulled Saturday night.

She was still grinning a few minutes later when she spotted the cover of the daily paper. 'Nemesis' was in capital letters on the front, and she couldn't stop from buying it and sitting down at a small outdoor cafe to glance through the article.

As many of us know, it began, our local police were well over their heads when Nemesis led them on a merry chase for the past few weeks. That was supposed to change however when the FBI assigned two of their top agents to catch the infamous thief that some have dubbed 'The L.A. Catwoman'.

Buffy lifted an eyebrow at the reference before becoming aware of the waitress standing at her table. She ordered a coffee before turning back to the article. Nemesis can now add sapphires, a rare painting, and a vintage pink convertible to her list of stolen items, as well as several daring exploits. I would think that such a resume would surely draw the admiration of her peers, the Green Mask Bandit comes to mind, as well as a good deal of attention from law enforcement.

She looked up and smiled as the waitress set a cup of coffee on the table before turning back to the article with interest. Now I'm sure most of us know Nemesis is one of the most wanted women around. But how many of us would have foreseen that law enforcement would offer her an invitation to their annual masquerade ball where their goal is to raise $400,000 for the homeless? It's yet to be seen whether the lady herself will make an appearance, but this reporter's heard there's been a run on Catwoman costumes at the halloween rental stores.

Buffy laid the paper down before reaching thoughtfully for her cup of coffee. It was clearly a trap, but it was also a masquerade party she'd attended for the last five years. It would probably look odd if she *wasn't* there. She leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes as a manicured fingernail tapped a rhythm on the table.

Quentin Travers thoughtfully dropped the paper on his desk before steepling his fingers. He knew all about Nemesis aka Buffy Summers. His gaze slid again to the newspaper, and he shook his head with a frown. He wouldn't be surprised if she took the police up on their invitation. The girl was nothing if not a thrill seeker.

He walked to the bar in his office and poured a drink before turning to look out the window. The view was magnificent. He could see for blocks, but his mind wasn't on the landscape, it was on the blonde currently running circles around her chosen opponents.

He knew something about her career as a petty thief in her high school years, but what she was doing now... he broke the thought and took a sip of liquor, swirled it in the glass before giving a shake of his head. What she was doing now was dangerous. It was pretty obvious whatever streak she had in her that needed a certain kind of excitement was reemerging, and with Ethan's departure, Jenny's imprisonment, and Rupert's newfound life as a lawyer, the girl was pretty much on her own.

He narrowed his eyes as he stared out the window. It wouldn't hurt to check up on her now and then... for Ethan and Jenny if nothing else.

Drusilla hummed to a tune only she could hear as she danced outside The Tropical Oasis, the location where the police department's charity bash would take place. Normally it was held in a much smaller building, but with the invitation to Nemesis, it seemed there were several more people willing to pay the admission to get in.

"Dru," Spike called as he opened the door and held it open. "Come inside pet. It looks like it could rain any second."

The brunette laughed merrily but followed him into the building. "I love the rain Spike and you know it."

"Yes luv, but we don't want to alert Nemesis that you're here."

She frowned before looking over the table filled room. "Nemesis," she breathed.

"Yeah." Spike checked to make sure the locks were bolted on the side door before glancing at her curiously. "Are you getting anything on her?"

"No." Dru eyed the large bouquet sitting by the door before turning to watch one of the men wiring hidden cameras into the decorations. "We're going to find out who she is tonight, Spike?"

"That's the idea luv."

She nodded absently as she frowned. "How many will be here tonight?"

"I think close to seven hundred." A concerned look crossed his face as he studied her warily. He knew it upset her to be around several people at one time. Her limited psychic abilities often picked up on strong emotions. "Are you alright Dru? You don't have to if..."

"No." She turned to him decisively and patted his cheek. "No one makes you into a fool, and it's about time she realizes I'm not going to take it anymore." Dru walked away with a smile as Spike looked after her with a grimace.

Buffy added the finishing touches to her outfit before taking a moment to study her reflection. Red hair flamed down the back of her tight yellow outfit. It had been a spur of the moment decision to dress as the X-Men's untouchable Rogue tonight.

A knock on the door had her grinning at her reflection, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she thought about the old friend waiting on the other side.

Angel looked over the *long* list of names one last time before looking up at the woman behind the desk. "So these were the last reservations made?"

"Yeah." Cordelia Chase looked him over with her usual interest. He looked good in his Batman costume. "They came out of the woodwork when you challenged Nemesis... and that's on top of the 175 tickets being raffled for the cruise to Mexico." She gave a shake of her head. "Even with the change in location we barely have enough room to fit everyone in."

He nodded before looking up from the papers. "It should be a good night for the charity."

"And it could be for you too." She smiled invitingly, and Angel gave a faint smile back.

"That's what I'm hoping for," he answered lightly before handing the papers back and turning his attention to the rapidly filling room. The truth was if Nemesis showed tonight, there was a good chance Dru would pick up on it. He gave a satisfied smile as he thought about the trap they'd laid. Every exit except the main entrance was locked and guarded by a policeman. The vents had been thought of and carefully looked over to make sure even a woman as small as Nemesis couldn't use them to escape.

"Riley Finn and Buffy Summers."

The name... and voice tore through Angel's musings, and he turned to see his coworker standing at the receptionist's table wearing a Dudley Do Right costume... and beaming at a small woman standing beside him. Unable to stop himself, Angel's gaze slid over her appreciatively. The receptionist waved them in, and he watched as the two disappeared into the crowd.

"Hey, Batman." The call came close to his shoulder, and Angel sighed, looking away from the direction the couple had gone and back at his partner.

"Nice," he murmured as he eyed Spike's costume. "What are you supposed to be again?"

"A vampire," Spike stated in a slightly hurt voice. "Why else would I be wearing plastic fangs?" Angel smirked, and Spike stood to his full height defensively. "Well, at least I'm not wearing tights."

"Okay... I get that," Angel agreed as he looked at the black leather Spike had wrapped himself in, "but who better to catch Catwoman than Batman?"

"Haven't caught her yet mate."

The brunette nodded before turning to look back over the crowd, his gaze unconsciously traveling toward the only Rogue in the room. "Do you see anyone that could be her?"

Spike's gaze followed his partner's. "There are a few women that could be." He leaned back against the wall thoughtfully and cocked his head. "How little do you remember her being?"

"On the short side," Angel held up a hand to about Buffy's height, "and small," he frowned, "although she was wearing a heavy coat at the time." He looked back toward the crowd. "I'd say she's about the size of Riley's date."

Spike nodded before shaking his head. "Buffy Summers, right? Why would anyone that looked like her go out with him?"

"I couldn't figure that out if I had a week," Angel muttered before looking back at his partner. "Think we should check on Dru?"

"Yeah." Spike pushed away from the wall before starting toward the much smaller room they'd left her in.

"Champagne?" Riley slid two glasses off a tray as a waiter paused in front of them.

Buffy smiled and took a glass, carefully took a sip before looking over the crowd. "It's larger than usual isn't it?"

"Yeah," he agreed as he looked the room over. "Nemesis's invitation seems to have been good for it."

"Think she'll show?"

He shrugged. "It would probably be better if she didn't. She's a thief... and Walsh is beyond angry that Pryce and O'Connor challenged her to make an appearance at a *policeman's* charity."

Buffy took another sip of her drink before eyeing him with calculation. "I wonder how they expect to catch her if she does show? I mean, unless she does something stupid, how can they figure out who she is?"

"Don't have a clue," Riley looked up to see 'Batman' making his way through the crowd shadowed closely by 'Vampire man' and rolled his eyes. "But let's face it, she's already managed to steal the Midnight Star, a painting, and the car they were driving out from under them. I mean, she's pretty much proven she's smarter than they are."

Buffy's eyes lit with amusement as she shook her head. "I'm sure she just got lucky."

Riley turned to her with a frown. "The problem is they're sloppy. If they went by the book, they'd have caught her by now."

She grinned and looked up at the tall blonde. "So I guess it's a good thing for her you're not on the case?"

He snorted, gave a shake of his head. "There's no way she'd be able to pull off *one* of her robberies if I were involved."

"Thank you, Quentin," the head of Los Angeles's FBI smiled congenially at the millionaire that had just walked over and handed her a glass of wine.

He returned it before looking over the room. "It appears law enforcement has outdone itself tonight," he murmured as his eyes twinkled with amusement. It wasn't lost on him that most of the women in the building were dressed either as Catwoman or female Robin Hoods, and there was even one wearing an outfit almost identical to the one Mrs. Marlowe had worn the night her painting was stolen.

"Yes," she agreed with a hint of embarrassment before clearing her throat and smiling firmly. "It's a nice location for the charity. There were so many reservations that the old location would have been too small."

"Oh yes," Quentin agreed. "It seems the goodness of the people knows no bounds." A silence fell before he nonchalantly glanced down at his glass, looked back up. "I must admit I was surprised when your two agents invited their opponent to show tonight."

"I can assure you that was without my knowledge, but one must trust that their employees are competent people," she answered with a faint scowl.

Soft laughter rang out, and they turned to find Buffy and Riley standing next to them as the blonde exchanged an amused look with her escort. "I'm sure they're not as unintelligent as you make them out to be," she murmured in response to Riley's latest Spike and Angel barb. She turned to look at the couple beside her. "Oh... hello Ms. Walsh, Mr. Travers," she nodded politely before taking a sip of champagne.

"Ms. Summers, isn't it?" Quentin smiled as he looked over her costume. "I must compliment you on your outfit, my dear. Rogue, isn't it? The young lady that can not be touched."

Buffy nodded, glanced up, met his eyes. "Yes. And you, Mr. Travers, make a striking Joker."

"I have to say I was inspired in my costume tonight," he stated, causing Buffy to look at him with sharp eyes. "Life can get so tediously boring if not for small excitements, or perhaps the people that cause them. Do you ladies agree?"

Walsh and Riley frowned, but Buffy bobbed her head in acknowledgment. She'd never done business with the man, but she knew he was no innocent. It wouldn't surprise her if he had an idea who she was.

The band started a new song and Quentin turned to Walsh. "Such a lovely lyric," he murmured. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me Maggie?"

"Of course," she agreed with a forced smile as she decided to find O'Connor and Pryce and give them another warning about how she *didn't* want any problems tonight. Quentin and Buffy's enjoyment of the situation combined with the crowd's tasteless choice of costumes was already embarrassing enough.

Dru pressed a picture of Nemesis in her hands and closed her eyes. "Fun," she stated quietly.

"What?" Spike asked.

"She's having fun," Dru clarified. "But there's more to it than that. She has a secret. She's after something... else."

"What else?" Angel asked.

Bernie rolled his eyes. "Probably something she's going to steal," he muttered as he watched Dru skeptically.

The psychic shook her head with frustration. "I don't know... but I see blonde hair." She put the picture down and looked at the monitors lining the countertop, the ones that showed different angles of the charity ball. She touched one before abruptly pulling her hand away and moving to touch another. She touched a third, a fourth. She stopped. "This one," she murmured, "has secrets."

Angel looked at the schoolgirl on the monitor and nodded. "That's Darla Chambers. She's the one that happened to be driving by the Marlowe's when the painting was stolen." He tapped fingers against the counter and looked at the blonde thoughtfully. It was more than a little possible she was involved, although he'd bet money she wasn't the one they'd talked to at the Coleman's house.

Dru continued to walk down the row of monitors, touching each one. She stopped on the ninth. "He's playing games too," Dru murmured. Angel looked up from his musings to find her pointing to Travers.

"Uh... Dru, love," Spike broke in. "That's Quentin Travers. I doubt he'd be tied up in anything illegal." He looked closer at the monitor. "And he's dancing with... Maggie Walsh," he stated with a grimace.

Dru nodded unrepentantly. "She's upset with you." She continued down the row of monitors. "The whole room's buzzing Nemesis," she breathed, "but there are some stronger than others." She reached for an image of Riley Finn and his date, touched the monitor as they danced. "They're close," she breathed.

"What?" Angel asked, the tension in his reply not going unnoticed by anyone in the room.

Dru looked up. "He thinks you and Spike are fools... she thinks..." she broke off and frowned before giving a faint smile. "She's laughing."

Spike and Angel both looked at Dru's smile with interest. "Dru," Angel started slowly. "Is she our thief?"

She frowned before dropping a hand from the monitor and shaking her head. "It doesn't work like that. I *feel* emotions... sometimes I see things, but I can't do more than that." She glanced back over the monitors before pointing to a middle aged woman wearing a Catwoman costume. "She's interested, Angel." She turned to look at the brunette. "Wants to pin you to the wall and have her way with you."

Angel stared at her before rolling his eyes when Bernie and Spike laughed. He turned back to Dru. "Can you tell us anything else about Nemesis, Dru?"

She started looking over the monitors again before pointing at another blonde dressed as Catwoman. "She's having fun, and waiting for something to happen."

They looked at the monitor. "Isn't that Anya Dickerson?" Bernie asked.

"I think so," Spike answered before looking at Angel. "She's dating Xander, isn't she?"

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure she's a reporter."

Spike studied her before cocking his head and frowning thoughtfully. "Do you think she's our girl?"

Angel scowled. "I doubt it. More than likely, she's waiting for Nemesis to make an appearance."

Spike nodded. "So we think she could be blonde, have a secret, and enjoy playing games."

"Laughing," Angel repeated the word Dru had used for Buffy before turning to look at the monitor showing her.

"Right," Spike agreed as he also looked up to study Buffy before turning to Dru. "Do you feel up to making an appearance luv?"

Dru looked up and nodded. "Do you think she'll tip her hand?"

"It won't hurt to see what happens," he murmured as he reached for her hand and kissed it. She smiled happily before sweeping out of the backroom and toward the crowded one.

Buffy had just turned down another dance from Riley when she noticed the two agents moving through the crowd, a crowd that parted for them as if by magic. She frowned and continued to watch before her eyes widened in understanding when she saw the brunette moving with them. Drusilla Robbins was a well known fashion designer in Los Angeles... who also happened to be well known for her psychic abilities. As far as Buffy knew she basically read emotions... and had a reputation for being the real deal.

A sudden knot grew in her stomach, and she turned to see Quentin watching from several feet away. He met her eyes and raised his glass before starting toward an exit, and Buffy watched as a guard stopped him before she started to panic. Drusilla could only tell them what she felt. It wouldn't convict her, but it would make it more difficult to continue her work, and she couldn't allow that to happen.

Suddenly interested in her small clutch purse, she opened it before searching for, and finding the small remote control, and pushing the button. She snapped it closed two seconds later and began to plan her escape so she wouldn't have to go anywhere near the agents hunting her.

"Hello Mr. Brighton," Maggie Walsh smiled at the man that had stepped into her path even as she realized she'd have to put off talking to Pryce and O'Connor *again*. "It's been a while."

"Yes, it..." he broke off when he felt a hand swat his shoulder.

"Shame on you," Drusilla bit out, her eyes burning sparks. "How can you do that to your wife and children? Do you think she doesn't know?"

"Excuse me?" He took a step away from the goth looking brunette and watched as her two companions shifted her away from him. The brunette on her left looked up apologetically as the blonde led her away.

"We're sorry sir," Angel stated even as he noticed his superior's anger. "Ms. Walsh, we were..." he didn't get very far before she started past him.

"Can I have a word with you, Mr. O'Connor?"

Angel nodded with resignation before turning to follow as she walked through the crowd.

Riley was watching from his spot at Buffy's side, his height working to his advantage as he took everything in. "Come on," he put a hand on the small of her back and tried to move her toward the commotion. "Let's see what's going on."

Buffy shook her head, refusing to move closer as she tried to keep an eye on the irritated psychic Spike was tugging through the crowd. She glanced toward the bathrooms and noticed Darla disappear inside, no doubt to try to escape Dru. "Um... you go ahead." She turned to look up at him. "I'll wait here."

He frowned but nodded before walking over to where Walsh was talking to Angel. "I'm not a believer in psychics," the middle aged woman was almost fuming. "And I seriously doubt Nemesis is either, even if she's here tonight... And I don't see this... display you're putting on accomplishing anything more than further embarrassing the police, and our office."

"If Nemesis is here," Angel started, "it's likely Dru's appearance will throw her off her game, and we might be able to spot her. That's all we're hoping for." A moment later, he looked up when the sprinklers went off, Buffy's smoke bomb finally doing what she'd intended.

Walsh threw her hands in the air with exasperation as Riley looked at the ceiling with confusion. Angel only spared them a glance before scanning the room with narrowed eyes. Buffy was against the far wall and heading for the door. Taking careful note of her progress, he quickly glanced over the rest of the room. There wasn't a trace of smoke that he could see, at least not until the door to the women's bathroom opened and Darla Chambers hurried out. A moment later, he turned to look at Anya when she started laughing.

Next Morning:

Lindsey McDonald had just taken a sip of coffee when the door of the FBI headquarters was thrown open admitting an angry blonde that his partner was pulling into the room. "Linds," Riley called, "meet Nemesis."

The brunette raised an eyebrow before glancing over to where O'Connor and Pryce were watching. "Uh, Riley," he began, "that's not our case."

"It is now," the blonde answered. "After what happened at the fundraiser, Walsh doesn't want to take any more chances on being humiliated."

"Really?" Lindsey asked as he watched Riley drag Darla into an interrogation room. No one answered, and he took a moment to look at the two agents watching him, Angel with dark eyes and Spike with a hint of amusement before he got to his feet and followed his partner.

"So..." Spike turned to Angel. "Our new case is?"

Angel sighed and tossed the case file on Spike's desk. "It's the Green Mask Bandit."

Spike nodded as he looked over the folder. "The guy's nowhere near as interesting as Nemesis but he's been outsmarting us for a while."

"Outsmarting McDonald and Finn you mean," Angel stated dryly, letting it be known he was not happy about having to swap cases.

The bleached blonde looked up and studied his partner knowingly. "Look mate, Nemesis isn't going to roll over and play nice with Finn and McDonald anymore than she did with us. We'll just sit back and enjoy the show while she puts them through their paces, and when she's done Walsh will put us back on the case." Angel looked at his partner with interest, and Spike continued with a shrug, "In the meantime, we have nothing better to do than solve the case they've been working on for the last eight months. Now... what do we know?"

"The guy hits banks at night and works alone," Angel started. "He always wears gloves and a green stocking mask. We have a few videos of a masked man, average size, medium height." He sat back in his chair. "He alternates his transportation... sometimes it's stolen cars, motorcycles... or even bicycles. At one of the jobs there were a couple of bodies found, two teenagers that were probably unexpected witnesses." Angel tapped a finger on his desk. "The bank hits seem random and within a five hundred mile radius. Finn and McDonald think his home base must be in California since it's where the biggest end of the robberies have taken place."

Spike nodded as he flipped through the files. "It's not much to go on."

Angel sighed and shook his head. "It's pretty much a follow-up case. We have to wait until he makes a mistake." He leaned back. "And up until now, he hasn't."

Spike nodded before frowning. "What about marked bills? Have we set anything up yet?"

"Yeah. The bills are set on top of the pile when the banks close and put aside first thing in the morning."

Dropping his head back, Spike stared at the ceiling. "Alright," he breathed before looking at Angel. "I guess we should get down to the First National that was hit two weeks ago and look it over again.

The older man looked up and smiled at the blonde as she held up a newspaper and the money to pay for it. "Thank you, miss." He slid the bills into the cash register as he watched her head toward the small cafe she frequented after her morning runs.

Ordering her usual, Buffy leaned back in the chair and unfolded the newspaper before starting to look over the front page. As she'd expected, the headline was about the charity where Nemesis had made an appearance. It went into detail about the surprises the night held, only adding at the end how much they had raised.

She thoughtfully sipped at the delivered coffee before tapping a finger on the table. She hadn't expected them to use a psychic, and it was hard to tell how much Dru had seen. A moment later, she gave an irritated shake of her head. There wasn't anything she could do about it now.