"That was both productive and unsettling," Willow said as she left the library, Buffy by her side.

"Yes, you were quite the little ray of sunshine." The Slayer threw her arm around the redhead. "Where are you off to now?"

Willow stopped in the middle of the hallway. "Buffy, do you believe in God? Allah? Karma? The Rule of Three?"

Buffy frowned, puzzled. "I just asked where you were going. Where did we make the left turn into the theological?"

Willow shook her head. "I just want to know if there's some sort of guiding force or intelligence in the universe, and if there is, what did I do to offend him, her or it so badly that my punishment is to be stuck tutoring Tyler Pittman."

Buffy cocked her head to one side. "Not an easy student, I take it?"

Willow grimaced and stamped her foot. "He's a walking pain in the ass."

***

Tyler Pittman crossed his bony arms over his sunken chest and pouted. "I told you I ain't gonna do it. How's come you're still here?"

Willow concentrated on arranging the textbooks in an orderly stack. "First, it was because I had to, but you've turned it into so much more." She looked at the homely boy. "You've made it personal. I'm going to get you to a 'C' average."

He scowled. "Why do you care?"

"Why don't you?" Willow gestured at the books. "You know this stuff. You know some of it better than I do. Why are you so determined to fail?"

"Maybe I'm not failing. Maybe this just isn't important to me."

"How are you going to get into college?"

He waved her question away. "Who says everybody's got to go to college?" He leaned forward. "Do you think all life's answers are in college? They ain't."

"Quite saying 'ain't'," Willow snapped. "You do it on purpose because you think it makes you sound dumb."

"No," Tyler replied. "It just don't make me sound like you."

Willow tried switching tactics. "What about your parents?"

"What about 'em?" His stare was flat and affectless.

Willow nodded, trying to control her seething exasperation. "Well, that's very Holden Caulfield of you."

Tyler snorted. "Most overrated book of the twentieth century."

Willow rolled her eyes. "So you've decided to opt out of life at fifteen?"

"Listen," he said, those brown eyes boring into her, "you don't know me, so don't sit there and judge me. You think you're gonna shame me into gettin' good grades? Lady, better'n you've tried and failed to ride that heifer."

Willow's eyebrows drew together. "I have no idea what that means."

"Huh." Tyler leaned back, a smug grin on his freckled face. "And you think you're the smart one."

***

Giles took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "So we will meet at sundown and attempt to find and track these creatures, whatever they may be. Agreed?"

Lindsay Maeda nodded. Gerard Roland raised one eyebrow. "What about the vampires?" he asked.

Lindsay frowned. "I'm more concerned about what we'll do if we find what we're looking for."

"I'm sure we will find some vampires that need killing," Giles said. "But I think that information is our paramount goal." He focused on Lindsay. "This will work."

"I believe you." Lindsay pushed her hair back from her face. "I'll make sure we have everything we need."

"Very well." Gerard stood. "I will see you at sundown."

Giles blinked. "What? We need to make plans for tonight."

Gerard smiled and shrugged. "Ah, my old friend, you were always so much better at planning than me. I would only distract you, and I have important business to attend."

"What business could possibly be so important?"

Gerard's grin turned rakish. "I do not believe that it is any of your concern, but if it will ease your mind, I must begin to make arrangements to return to Montreal."

Lindsay's head jerked up. Giles noticed but remained focused on Gerard. "This is quite a time to decide to leave."

Gerard made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I will see this operation through, but extending my visit any longer will surely result in questions, the sort of questions you do not want asked." He smiled. "Do not be so suspicious, Rupert."

***

The locker room was quiet. Cordelia tried to steel herself for what she was about to do. She was the captain. That meant she had to say something comforting to Lacey, maybe even offer a quick hug. It was expected of her. She shook her head, feeling the thick ponytail brush across her upper back. The other girls watched as she crossed the locker room. Lacey sat on a bench, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue as Sheri and Jenna consoled her. Jenna looked up as Cordelia approached. They made eye contact and Jenna slid over, acknowledging Cordelia's right to the space beside Lacey. Cordelia sat down and patted the other girl on the shoulder.

"Hey," she said, "I'm sure that Muffin is in doggie heaven."

Lacey nodded. "Th-thank you, Cordelia." Fresh tears poured down the girl's face. "She was so sweet."

Cordelia nodded, a vacant gesture. In her opinion, Muffin was a fluffy little white crap factory. Still, coyotes and all...

She patted Lacey on the shoulder again and stood. Jenna slid back into the vacated space. Cordelia shook her head as she walked back to her locker. Activity resumed; Muffin might have suffered a tragic death, but they still had practice.

Andrea Pierce walked through the door and stopped. She swayed a little, unsteady on her feet. Cordelia glanced at her, then did a double take. Andrea's face was paper-white. She looked around the room, making a full circuit before she spoke.

"Skyler," she said. "Last night, she was..." A keening sob burst from her throat. "Skyler's dead."

***

Ms. Hollis seemed to be speaking from far away, down a deep hole. Cordelia forced herself to concentrate. Practice was being canceled, that was what Ms. Hollis was saying. Cordelia reached down and picked up her gym bag. Her head felt packed full, yet numb. There was not much talking in the locker room. Girls were crying and hugging each other, but not talking. Cordelia looked at them, dazed. Maybe this was what it felt like to be on drugs.

She found herself in the hallway. That meant that she had made it out of the locker room, so she must be walking okay. Kids were walking in the hall, some of them looking at her. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and tried to understand why she felt this way.

She swallowed hard and saw Xander standing at his locker. His back was to her, his head down. Without conscious volition, her feet drifted toward him. He heard or sensed her approach, because he turned when she was a couple of steps away. His eyes widened.

"Cor," he said, "what's wrong?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but it took all her resolve not to cry as she fell into his arms.

***

Oz hesitated when he saw Devon. He thought about turning around, but even as the thought crossed his mind, he loathed it. He continued on his path.

"Hey, Oz," Devon said as they drew closer. "I been looking for you. Listen, there's some things we need to talk about at rehearsal tonight."

For a split-second Oz stared at the world through a red haze. Blood thrummed in his ears and he heard himself say, "No, I don't think so. I won't be at rehearsal tonight."

"What? Dude, we got a gig in two weeks."

"Look, Devon, if you want me out of the band, just say it. Be a man. Don't duck it."

"Dude." Devon's eyes opened wide. "Did you get hold of some bad shrooms or something? What are you talking about?"

"Yeah, right." Oz turned on his heel and walked away. "When you can be honest, call me." His last vision was of Devon scratching his head.

***

Xander sat on the bench, held Cordelia's hand, and felt dumb. Not because he held her hand, but because that was all he could think of to do. She had sobbed out something about a cheerleader being killed and how she didn't really know the girl that well, but that was the point, wasn't it? Xander didn't know which unnerved him more, the subject matter or the incoherence of Cordelia's account. She wasn't exactly crying, but some sort of dry-heavish palpitation was definitely present.

"Hey," he said, reaching out to touch her hair with his free hand, "you keep talking about this like it's your fault."

"It's not," she said. "At least, I know it's not in my head."

Xander shrugged. "How about the rest of you?"

Cordelia turned her head to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you said you knew it in your head, but your head's like, what, twelve percent of your body? Sometimes it's not what you know in your head, it's what you feel in the other eighty-eight percent. If anybody should know that, we should."

"What?"

"Does anybody think we make a good couple? I mean, are there any reasons why we're together? I mean..." Xander took a deep breath and slapped his hands down on his thighs. "Okay, I realize that I am digging myself the mother of all holes here, so I'll cut to the chase. Don't tell me what you know, Cor. Tell me what you feel."

Cordelia leaned forward. "It's not like she was a close friend or anything. Cheerleading was about the only thing we had in common." She took a breath and Xander could swear it sounded like a sigh. "But after... I mean, when I was... when..."

"It's okay," Xander said. "I'm familiar. You can skip that part."

Cordelia shook her head. "I came into the locker room for practice, and she met me just inside the door and gave me this big hug, and then she started crying. She said that she was afraid that she was the last person I'd spoken to, and that what she had said was so stupid." Cordelia smiled, her eyes glittering with unspilled tears. "I told her not to be goofy, but it was really sweet." She bit her lip. "And I can't really remember the last thing I said to her yesterday after practice."

Xander put an arm around her shoulders and gave a very gentle tug. She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. He was quiet for a minute, feeling the warmth of her next to him, smelling her hair as he turned his face toward her and kissed the top of her head. "I'm not gonna say it's okay," he said. "Because it's not. And I'm not gonna tell you to suck it up. You feel however you feel for as long as you need to."

***

"So, what's with all the hardware?" Buffy used a fingernail to trace a lazy circle on the library countertop. Giles paused in the act of handing a rifle to Lindsay and looked at the Slayer.

"I thought I was very clear. We're going to try to capture one of these... beasts."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I know that. But where do you get all these guns? I mean, you had one tranquilizer rifle, but don't tell me you keep a couple of spares just in case. That would be, like, the anal hall of fame." There was a beat, then Lindsay bit her lip and snorted, trying to keep a guffaw inside. Faith didn't even try; her belly laugh rang out like a foghorn. Buffy blushed, her face turning a furious red as she realized how that last statement had sounded.

"At least you have the civility to be embarrassed," Giles said in a mild voice, although his eyes sparkled behind his glasses. "Actually, I have a connection with a local veterinarian. In return for exorbitant fees, he asks no questions when I make a special request."

Buffy shook her head. "And you call yourself a good guy. Where's Mr. Roland?"

Giles' humor dissipated. "Gerard had another appointment. He will meet us here at sundown."

Faith paced the library, fingers twitching. "So, what do you think we're after? Werewolves?"

Giles shook his head. "No. We're nowhere near a full moon."

"Then what are they?" Faith sounded jittery and anxious to be out fighting.

Lindsay looked up. "Werewolves aren't the only mystical beasts. They're not even the only shapeshifters."

"Although," Giles added, "most of the others are from Asia and tend not to congregate in America."

"So, why would an unknown hellbeast, possibly Asian in origin, end up in Sunnydale?" Buffy mock-slapped her forehead. "Oh, that's right, the Hellmouth thingie." She turned to Lindsay. "Any idea what they might be?"

Lindsay smiled. "My family's been in America since 1884, and we've worked damn hard to assimilate. You probably know as much Asian folklore as I do."

Faith frowned. "But you're sure the tranqs will work?"

"No," Giles admitted. "That's why it's comforting to have a Slayer along."

Buffy cocked her head to one side. "Does this whole scenario stir anyone else's inner paranoid? I mean, two groups of vampires and an unknown creature of some sort? How's that work?"

Giles said, "That's what we hope to find out" and latched the rifle case.

***

Like everyone, Oz had secrets. The fact that he was a werewolf was a secret, but there were darker mysteries he kept closely guarded. The Scooby gang all knew he was a werewolf, but only Willow knew how much he loved the music of Prince, and even she did not know his deepest confidence: when Oz was in a funk, he glued down the repeat button on the CD player and listened to Abba's "The Name of the Game" over and over again.

***

"Any ideas on how we're supposed to track these guys?" Faith looked over her shoulder at the Watchers. The three of them looked a little ridiculous: two middle-aged men and a young woman, dressed in everything from Giles's tweeds to Gerard's sweater to Lindsay's ninja get-up, and each of them carrying a bulky tranquilizer rifle.

Giles pointed northeast. "We walk until we cross their trail."

Buffy held up a hand. "What if we don't cross their trail?"

Giles looked grim. "I don't believe that will be a problem."

***

Xander crouched and rested his forearms on the car's windowsill. "Call you later?"

Cordelia swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

He reached through the window and touched her arm. "Don't beat yourself up."

Cordelia turned toward him, a wan smile on her face. "Easy for you to say, hard for me to do." He squeezed her arm, then stood up. He bent over when he heard his name. "Xander?"

"Yeah?"

Cordelia's face was grim. "We'll find them, won't we? Whoever did this? We'll find them and make them pay."

He nodded. "It's a yes."

She looked into his eyes. "Good." She dropped the transmission into gear. "Don't forget to call me." The Sebring's tires shrieked as she pulled away.

***

"Here, why don't you try this." Willie placed the glass on the table in front of Angel. "You might like it."

Angel cast a hooded glance at the twitchy little man as Willie shuffled his feet. The souled vampire kept his eyes on the proprietor as he took a long drink of the dark red liquid. Willie kept glancing back over his shoulder. The taste pulled at Angel's attention. The smoothness, the way it slipped down his throat-

Angel's eyes widened. He threw the glass away in a violent motion. The vessel shattered against the brick wall, leaving an irregular crimson blotch that began to slide toward the floor. Willie barely had time to flinch as Angel grabbed his collar and yanked him up on tiptoe.

"Whoa." Willie's voice was almost a scream. "It's a joke, it's a joke."

"Willie, tell me that you didn't give me human blood. Tell me that you aren't that stupid. Tell me that this isn't your twisted idea of a prank."

"Hey, hey, hey," the little man sniveled as his toes scrabbled at the floor. "First, that came from a blood bank. It was given voluntarily. It's AB negative, which I know is a special treat for you guys."

Angel's eyes narrowed. He was an eyelash away from going game-face on the snitch. "Are you saying that you just gave me a glass of AB neg out of the goodness of your heart? Willie, I've been around for over two hundred years, and that might be the single funniest thing I've ever heard."

Willie tried to pull his head away from Angel's grip. "First, I'm not giving it. Somebody paid for it. In my defense, it was his idea. He said you'd like it."

"He?" Angel's attention shifted away from Willie and his eyes searched the bar.

"Yeah." Willie was back on familiar ground now. Passing along information, that he knew. "Tall guy, dark hair, funny accent. He told me to serve that to you."

"Where is he now?" Angel continued to scan the bar.

Willie jerked a thumb toward the back. "He left that way, maybe five minutes ago."

Angel released the bartender's collar, then patted his face with an open hand. Willie winced; apparently it was more than a tap. As Angel stalked away the snitch rubbed his cheek with a trembling hand.

Angel pushed through the back door and found himself in an alley. Something moved to his right and a shadow detached itself from the gloom and approached him. Angel turned and faced it.

"You've got a lot to learn about a sense of humor," he said.

The shadow stopped. "I thought it quite funny." The speaker stepped into the dim light, a tall man with snake hips and a shock of black hair. "They miss you at our Father's House."

Angel suppressed a shudder. "You go to all this trouble just to jerk me around?"

"No, I went to all this trouble because I do not want to be seen talking to you."

"There's a real easy way to accomplish that. Don't talk to me." Angel turned to go back inside.

"But then how could I warn you?"

Angel froze. "Warn me about what?" The icy fingers of dread closed around his stomach.

"That someone you care about is in great danger."

"Pretty cliché, don't you think?" Angel stared at the door, willing himself to appear nonchalant.

"Cliches are cliches because they are so often true."

Angel studied the doorjamb's advanced state of rot. "Maybe."

"The Slayer does not know what she has gotten herself into."

Angel stiffened. He looked over his shoulder. "What makes you think I care about the Slayer?"

"What, because she sent you to our Father? Now who is trying to joke? You know that when I said her name it pierced your heart like one of those stakes you fear so much. Or like the blade of a sword."

Angel whirled. "You're about to exhaust my patience, and if memory serves, you're not much of a fighter."

The other man held up his hands. "So true, but you would waste precious minutes hurting me when she could be in mortal peril."

Angel balled his fists in frustration. "Are you going to give me anything else?"

"I have nothing else to give. She is entering a trap, her and the other Slayer and the Watchers. That's all I know." He stepped back into the shadows. "I expect you to remember this someday." He disappeared into the darkness. Angel stood in the alley, frozen, then wheeled and burst back into the bar, pushing shouting patrons out of the way. He had to get help. The question was where could he find it?