Walking through the empty halls of Sunnydale High School, Willow couldn't help but feel slightly nervous. It was almost 9:30 in the morning, and the only thing she could hear were the slap of her wet sneakers against the tiled floor of the hallway.

Protected from the elements by a bright yellow rain coat, Willow had fled the deceptive safety of her home, to slog through the rain and wind to school. "There's research I could help with," she said to herself, her voice sounding quiet small in the empty school.

The hacker knew she was trying to convince herself that she was really needed her, but the truth was, she had just wanted to get out of the house earlier then usual. She wondered idly who would have been the first to knock on her door. Buffy, maybe.Willow thought logically. The Slayer would probably want to tell her about her night zombie hunting. Plus, she still want's to grill me about Xander.

That was a conversation she did so not want to have. That whole thing with Xander.mistake. It had to be. He wasn't going to kiss me. I'm Willow! His best friend! Practically invisible to him as anything else! These rather hopeful thoughts were pushed aside by other, more complicated ones. What if it wasn't a mistake? Maybe he really did want to kiss me. He said that he'd finally opened his eyes.maybe what he sees doesn't have to be only a friend.

As she tried to shake the last of the water off her raincoat, Willow thought about how all of this made her feel. On the one hand, the idea that Xander was actually interested in her, after all these years made her feel warm and lightheaded. It was almost too good to be true, the object of her every romantic though for over 10 years finally coming around. On the other hand, there was the very real possibility that this whole thing was a mistake. Xander had 'opened his eyes' to so many girls before, that him doing it to his best friend was really only a matter of time. Willow had listened to her friend gush over so many different girls, that she found it hard to believe that Xander could ever make up his mind about what he wanted. The most recent recipient of Xander's gushing was Buffy, Willow's other best friend. "Oh, and lets not forget Cordelia!"

The mere thought of Cordelia Chase caused a frosty look to cross Willows' usually pleasant face. When the Hacker had discovered that Cordelia and Xander had been secretly seeing each other, Willow would be the first to admit that she had exploded. She had been secretly pleased when Cordelia had dumped Xander on Valentines Day. The flippant way Cordelia had done it had supported every evil and nasty thought Willow had ever had about her. It also made Xander single again, which caused a dance of joy in the privacy of her room that night.

In the aftermath of Xander's botched love spell, Willow felt bad about it. The spell, in all its shortsightedness and danger had shown that her best friend really did have feelings for the Ice Queen. And more then anything else, Willow wanted Xander to be happy. She had always envisioned it being her who made him happy, but she couldn't hold on to any real anger for long when Xander made his choice. Disgust? That's still around, but anger.not so much.

That had a lot to do with Oz. Willow had never thought that any boy, other then Xander, could make her feel as good about herself, as Oz did. For the first time in her life, a boy picked her. A cool, popular guy. A guy in a band! She had never felt anything like the excitement of watching Oz perform on stage. It's like he's playing just for me, she thought with a smile as she walked. In a club full of girls who he could have, he's playing for me! It made her feel special, maybe even loved.

Willow knew she wasn't in love with Oz the way she was in love with Xander. Not yet, anyway. But with every smile, every soft look, Oz was slowly taking the place in her heart, which only Xander had ever filled. Just thinking of Oz made her feel happy. It used to be that way whenever she thought of Xander, but now he was with Cordelia. Did that.taint him? Because he chose Cordelia over me, did that change the way I look at him? Think of him?

It saddened Willow to think that. That after a lifetime of friendship and love, the choice of who Xander picked to be with could so profoundly change their relationship. In the privacy of her room, in the middle of the night, Willow sometimes thought that she wouldn't be happy with whomever Xander was with, if it wasn't her. If Xander was going out with Buffy, would I think nasty thoughts about her? Would things still not be right between Xander and me?

Willow believed that no one knew Xander the way she did. And up to a point, it was the truth. With so much shared history, and so many long years of friendship, Willow Rosenburg could honestly believe that she was the authority on Xander Harris, except for maybe Xander himself. So believing that she knew him better then anyone else on earth, Willow logically assumed that no one else on earth was better suited for him then her. It makes sense, she thought as she pushed the library doors open. Who else could love him as much as me? Who else could except him so completely, with all of his faults, as me? These rather confused thoughts were running through her head as she walked into the library and saw Giles and Sidney sitting at the main table.

Or more accurately, passed out at the main table.

Approaching quietly, Willow couldn't help but smile. Giles was sitting with his feet out, his head tilted back. His glasses rested on the table on top of dusty looking book. His mouth hung open slightly, and his nose whistled softly as he breathed. Across from him, Sidney sat in almost exact same position, except that his head hung down, causing his chin to rest on his chest. Sidney's arms crossed his chest, his hands tucked underneath arms.

"I guess you guys didn't go home," Willow said softly as she reached the table. She just stood there for a moment, not sure what to do. Should I wake them? They look so.sleepy. Taking a glance at the dozens of books laid upon the table, the hacker's eyes scanned the pages and titles. Picking up a large, leather-bound book, Willow's eyes widened at the graphic sketch of a zombie apparently eating a baby calf. "Eek!" Dropping the book back on the table, Willow backed away from the book like it had bitten her.

The loud slam of the book hitting the table caused both Giles and Sidney to awaken. Or it may have been jumping out of their chairs and hitting the floor that woke then up, Willow wasn't sure. Either way, both men jumped to their feet immediately, their eyes wide. "I'm awake!" both men said loudly at the same time.

"Uh, hi." Blushing scarlet, Willow smiled at the adults, her hands behind her back. "I'm here!" When both men stared at her incomprehensibly, the red-haired girl shrugged helplessly, the smile still on her face. "To help with the research."

Giving the girl a bleary look, Sidney groaned and stretched his back. "Bloody hell," he muttered to no one. "What time is it?"

"9:30," Willow mumbled, staring at her shoes in embarrassment. "I know you said to come by around 11, but."

Giles waved away Willow's apology as he rubbed his eyes. "It's alright Willow. We both must have fallen asleep last night. It's fortunate that you chose to come earlier or we might have slept far to late."

"And possibly done permeate damage to our backs in the process," Sidney grumbled as he leaned on the table, on hand on his lower back. "Bloody hell, I've slept in jungles, deserts, mountains and even once spent the night stuffed in a drain pipe. All of that, and my back has never hurt this much in the morning."

Putting on his glasses, Giles straightened his shirt and tie and looked at his friend. "Drain pipe?"

"Mexico City." The Reanimator shuddered for a moment at the memory. "It was most unpleasant."

"I'd imagine so." Giles replied with slightly disgusted look. Suddenly remembering Willow, the Watcher turned to her and smiled tiredly. "I believe you mentioned helping us research."

"Yep!" Willow answered enthusiastically, her mood brightening. "I thought I could surf the net. Look up zombie stuff." Her enthusiasm faded slightly as she remembered the less the stunning success she had had so far. "I know I haven't found much yet, but if you guys could give me something specific, I'm sure I'd do better."

It was Giles turn to look crestfallen. "I'm afraid our own attempts at research haven't been very successful either."

Clearing his throat, Sidney brought the attentions of his companions to himself. "I believe I can help you there Willow. My own knowledge on zombies, while extensive, could be of value here." Sending his friend a smile, Sidney motioned Willow to the computer. "Like so many of the Watchers I've met, apparently Rui doesn't like learning except from books."

Willow giggled at Giles new nickname. "How many names did you have when you were younger, Giles?"

"I'm going to go put on a pot of tea," Giles said stiffly, bristling from his friend's mild rebuke. "And I told you not to call me that."

Both Sidney and Willow smiled as they watched the librarian go into his office. "He's always been a little sensitive about that," Sidney told Willow conspiratorially as he moved toward the computer. "Shall we?"

Willow smiled at the older man as she moved past him and sat down at the computer. "So, you guys didn't find anything useful last night?" she asked as the computer booted itself up.

Pulling a chair from the table, Sidney sat down beside the hacker with only a mild groan. "I'm afraid not. Rupert has an extensive library, really quite remarkable. Yet the vast majority of his collection concerns vampires and traditional demons. I'm sure that they have been of great help in the past, and will assuredly do so again in the future. Yet at present, they are of little help to the current dilemma. Zombies are not vampires. There are no demons inside of the bodies. Quite the opposite in fact."

Accessing the Internet, Willow listened with rapt attention to the Reanimator. "What do you mean, the opposite of a demon?"

Leaning forward, Sidney looked at the girl beside him, the glint in his eye bordering on intense. "When a zombie is raised, be it by ritual, spell or pure natural ability, the soul of the former inhabitant of the body is called to animate it." The look of horror on Willow's face brought forth a nod from Sidney. "Yes, a soul. What makes it all the more horrible is that the soul, trapped in the decaying flesh, has no free will, no independent thought. It feels no pain and has no conscience. The soul is.is like a battery powering a robot. Completely subservient to its master."

Willow remained speechless as she stared numbly at the computer screen, thoughts of decayed flesh and rotted blood speeding through her mind. "That's...awful," was all she managed when she finally could speak.

"Indeed," Sidney said gravely, before noticing the girl's rather shaken state. "Don't worry yourself gray, Willow. We are actually helping set the soul free when we kill a zombie, and if they could, I'm sure they would thank us." Putting a fatherly hand on the hackers' shoulder, the former Watcher smiled gently.

Sidney's touch seemed to absorb tenseness in her shoulders that Willow hadn't noticed until it was gone. Letting out a slightly nervous breath, Willow returned Sidney's smile. "Thanks." Looking back at the screen, Willow tapped her fingers lightly on the keyboard. "So what should I do first?"

Under Sidney's direction, Willow steered the computer to a number of websites with an overflowing amount of information on things occult. Many of them needed passwords, which Sidney supplied. None of them were familiar to Willow. "I thought I knew most of the reliable supernatural sites on the web," she commented once, here eyes widening in surprise and joy as she scrolled though a page of text devoted to a winged demon called Nightkin. "I've never even thought that there was so much I hadn't found!" Turning to look at the older man, Willow found him glaring at his cell phone. "Something wrong?"

"Eddie," was the one word reply. Placing the small phone back into his pocket, Sidney sighed. "That bloody boy never calls when he's supposed to. And he was to bring me some books from Rupert's flat."

"He's probably really tired," Willow said, trying to reassure the man. "With the dancing at the Bronze and then the zombie slaying, he probably went right to bed."

Sidney started at Willow's words, his face registering surprise. "Eddie.danced?"

Looking back at the monitor, Willow nodded. "Yeah, with a girl he met there. Melissa I think her name was." Giving the man a sidewise look, the hacker frowned slightly. "You sound so surprised."

Biting his lip slightly, Sidney gave a half smile. "Eddie isn't exactly the most.social person around. He's actually quite.unsocial. Which isn't to say he's rude exactly...more.churlish." Realizing that he was beginning to ramble, Sidney stopped and took a breath. "I'm sorry, I'm making it sound as if Eddie is some brooding young man, hiding away from society."

Willow opened her mouth to say something, then paused. "It's okay. We used to know a guy like that," she responded quietly, a hint of sadness and a touch of fear in her voice.

Sidney looked thoughtfully at Willow, noticing how quiet she had become. Perhaps a friend that was lost, he thought as he watched the girl launch another search on the computer. I should ask Rupert about it, so I don't cause any unnecessary discomfort. In the meantime."Willow, do a search on ritual voodun, that should point us in the right direction."

Working in silence, the only sound in the library was the soft clicking of the keyboard, and the mild whistle of Giles' tea kettle.

.___.___.

Eddie crept up on the zombie, his gun pointing directly at its head. Hands covered in sweat, and with thirst crawling up his throat like an untamed beast, the male Slayer steadied his breathing as he took aim. Pushing the door open gently, an audible creek reached the Necromancer's ears. With a sudden turn, the zombie spotted him and lunged. Squeezing the trigger rapidly, fire erupted from the muzzle of 9mm. In an instant the zombie's head blast apart in an explosion of blood and gore. "Excellent!" Eddie shouted, throwing the playstation controller down and grabbing his Big Gulp. "I so rock at this game!"

"Ya think?" a voice shouted from the basement. "It's only your damn JOB!" Stomping up the stairs, Richard 'Richie'Wagnall finished wiping his hands on a rag and glared at his guest. "I on the other hand get my ass constantly kicked by that game. Fucking Sony," he muttered as he went to his fridge. "Make a game where you have to breakdown complex chemicals and drugs, and I'll beat your ass any day of the week!"

Richard Wagnall was an MIT dropout and purveyor of 'fine, one of a kind pharmaceuticals'. Which meant he made custom made drugs in his basement and sold them to whoever could afford them. His drugs were the rage in both the mainstream Hollywood parties, and the raver underground. Growing up in Brooklyn, Richie first started experimenting with drugs in the basement of his fathers' pharmacy, mixing morphine and caffeine pills together, and selling them to the neighborhood joyboys and party girls. Accepted into MIT at 17, Richie helped develop a new, non-addictive morphine based painkiller and was on his way to a promising career with a major pharmaceutical company. Then, at the age of 22, he was arrested and charged for selling controlled substances, and statutory rape, after being caught with his face buried between the legs of a 16 year old Catholic school girl in the women's bathroom of a club. Cutting a deal with the State, Richie tossed them a few of the more prominent names on his sales list in exchange for a reduced sentence. Four years later, Richie Wagnall walked out of jail and left his native New York for the sunny skies of the San Fernando Valley. Now pushing 30, Richie was the established 'maker' for the top players in LA, designing one of a kind drugs for parties. Keeping with his roots though, he also made drugs for the younger crowd, selling them in bulk at a reduced price.

"That's because you're a nerd. And not even one of those cool nerds that spend all their time playing video games. You're a chem nerd!" Laughing as he finished his drink, Eddie turned off the Playstation and lit a cigarette. "When's the Frog getting here? As much fun as you are, I can't spend all damn day here."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Richie responded, his head inside the fridge. "You want a beer?"

"Nah," Eddie answered, exhaling a large cloud of smoke. "I'm driving."

"Pfft," Richie replied, grabbing himself a beer and closing the fridge. "Like anyone could tell you're not drunk when you drive." Throwing himself down on the couch beside Eddie, the chemist opened his beer and took a long drink. "Frog should be here soon," he said, stopping to let out a loud belch. "He's driving in from San Fran, so don't bitch to me about driving."

"We both know that the Frog doesn't sleep, paranoid son of a bitch that he is." Putting his cigarette on an overflowing ashtray, Eddie brought both hands to his face in mock terror. "Oh no! The Feds are after me! The Russians are after me! The Colombians are after me!" Putting his hands back down, the male Slayer shook his head in amusement. "The only ones who want Frog are Interpol, and he knows it."

Richie nodded, took another drink and grinned. "Which reminds me, you seen his new wanted poster?"

"No," Eddie said with a smile. "I must have missed it on my last flight."

With a groan, the chemist pulled himself off the couch and shambled over to a bookcase near the front door. Muttering to himself, he searched in-between the books on chemistry, biology and physics, until he grunted in triumph. Crumpling the paper, he tossed it to his still sitting guest. "Take a look."

As Richie made his way back to the couch and his beer, Eddie looked at the crumpled wanted poster and laughed out loud. "That's the Frog?" he asked, referring to the picture of a man in dark sunglasses, a loud Hawaiian shirt, and about 6 weeks worth of hair growth on his face. "Jesus! He looks like an Amish in Hawaii!"

Richie, who had been in the process of swallowing a mouthful of beer, exploded in laughter, spraying himself and the dingy coffee table in front of him in beer. "Shit man! You made me snarf my beer!"

Laughing at his friend, Eddie stubbed out his smoke and leaned back on the couch. "So, what do you have for me?" his voice and manner becoming serious. "What am I dealing with?"

The chemist stopped laughing immediately, knowing Eddie's tone meant business. Reaching behind his leather apron, Richie pulled out two sheets of computer paper. "Well, I did every test I know on the stuff," he said, handing one of the printouts to the male Slayer. "My conclusion: you dealing with serious shit."

"I'm paying you a quarter to tell me that?" Eddie muttered as he scanned the page. It was mostly a lot of chemical equations that baffled his rather rudimentary knowledge of chemistry. "Getting stabbed, shot at and run over already told me that."

Richie smirked at the younger man. "Alright smartass. I found strong doses of

d-N-methylamphetamine, eta-carbo0line, tryptamine alkaloids, lysergide and traces of diacetylmorphine. Not to mention a handful of other things I've never seen before. This stuff should be able to kill a large bull, but somehow, the chemical bonds are also acting as inhibitors so that, while a person taking this will be severely fucked up, it won't kill them. Probably."

"Jesus." Scanning down the page again, Eddie caught the chemical names his friend mentioned. Translated, the mixture was a meth/ayahuasca/LSD/heroin concoction. "This stuff must be a wild ride."

"I'm thinking more like freakish. The meth would crank ya up something fierce, then the aya and LSD would mess with your perceptions, and the heroin would bring ya back down like a baby.and then drop you off a cliff." Taking one of Eddie's cigarettes, Richie lit it with a hand shaking from equal measure fear and excitement. "I'm telling you right now, this is high grade, professional stuff. No kid mixed this stuff up in his basement."

Folding his copy of the chemical breakdown, Eddie put it in his coat pocket. "Cartels?"

Richie nodded, taking a drag of his smoke. "Or the Russians, though I'd lean more toward the Colombians."

Lighting another cigarette, Eddie gave his friend a curious look. "Why them and not the Russians? Or Mexicans for that matter?"

"The ayauasca. It's made from a mixture of banisteriopsis caapi vines and leaves off the viridis bush. Both of which are found in South American rainforests." Rubbing his eyes, the chemist sighed. "The Mexicans could get them pretty easy, and the Russians, Chinese and even the Italians could buy them without much trouble. The Colombians would have the easiest time of all, so I'd go with them. It's just a guess though. For all I know, the Germans or English could have made it."

"If anyone will know who's making this stuff, it's Jackie," Eddie said more to himself then to his friend. "Anything this big is going to end up going East.

"What's going to end up going East?" a voice asked from the front door.

Both Necromancer and chemist jumped at the voice, Eddie drawing his gun and Richie almost falling off the couch. "Jesus, Frog," Eddie said as he recognized the source of the voice. "Give us a fucking heart attack, why don't ya?"

Fully entering the living room, Frog stared at the two men on the couch through dark sunglasses. Eddie had been introduced to Frog by Richie 2 years ago, and he and Sidney had availed themselves of his services on a few occasions. Only known as 'the Frog', the courier was the most non- descript person one was ever likely to meet, which greatly aided him in his profession. Plain brown hair cut conservatively, 5'9, lean and with no visible scars, law enforcement agencies around the world wanted him in an interrogation room for a few hours. Given his name for his globe-hopping job, Frog made his living delivering things that people didn't trust UPS for. This included, but was not limited to, drugs, weapons, stolen industrial, military and diplomatic 'documents', stolen art and other such items that customs would have a problem with. He was at the top of his field, and his prices showed that. Depending on the delivery and the risk involved, the Frog's rates ranged from a comparatively small $45,000 to over a million dollars. Always in cash. Always up front. If the delivery doesn't get where it's supposed to, Frog gives back 75% of his fee, the other 25% is guaranteed to him, no matter what. As far as Eddie knew, Frog had never failed on a delivery.

The courier waited for a moment, his face expressionless. "I repeat, what'll end up going East?"

"You," Eddie said standing up. "I need you to deliver a package to Jackie."

Frog sighed and took off his glasses. "Hong Kong. Yay. I haven't been there this week yet!" Throwing himself onto the couch, the courier gave Eddie a bored look. "Do you realize how much I hate going to Hong Kong? It's actually the place I hate the most in the entire world." Lowering his voice, the plain looking man looked at Eddie in all seriousness. "Plus.I think the Chinese are out to get me."

Eddie kept a straight face as Richie tied to hold in his laughter. "Frog, come on! I need to get this stuff to Jackie! Who else can do it, but you?"

Frog seemed to give the matter serious thought, his eyes closing as he mulled over the possible trip. Eddie watched with interest, hoping his gambit of stroking the paranoid couriers' incredibly large ego would pay off. He wasn't surprised by Frog's 'hesitancy' to go to Hong Kong. It was classic Frog. The man, knowing he was the best and that his services were needed, enjoyed making his prospective employers flatter and beg. Eddie didn't mind, as long as Frog shut up and did as he was told. "Fine," the courier said at last. "My price is 60 and it's non-negotiable."

Eddie nodded and lit a fresh cigarette. "Yeah, well you're getting 50. I need you airborne ASAP." Taking the first printout, the male Slayer folded it and put it inside his pocket. "It's important that you get this stuff to Jackie right away." Scribbling a quick note on a piece of paper, Eddie took it, the second chemical breakdown printout and a single inhaler of the blue drug, and dropped them all into a manila envelope. "In there's Richie's breakdown of the stuff, a sample of it, and how she's to get in touch with me." Frog accepted the envelope and stood, looking expectantly at Eddie. "What?" the necromancer said.

Rolling his eyes, Frog sighed and sat back down. "Eddie, how many runs have I done for you and Sid? 4? 5? You should know how I work by now."

It was Eddie's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Reaching into his coat, Eddie removed a fat, plain white envelope. "That's half a cent in there for you, and another quarter as Jackies' retainer."

Frog accepted the new envelope as easily as he had the first, inserting it into the inside pocket of his coat. "No need to count it. You and Sid are pretty much straight shooters." Rising from the couch, the courier put his sunglasses back on and grinned. "Or as least straighter then the rest of my employers." Putting the manila envelope under his arm, Frog walked past the two other men and opened the front door. Checking his watch, he looked at Eddie from behind dark lenses. "The package will be in the receiver's hands by 4 o'clock this afternoon." With that, he nodded at Richie and left, closing the door behind him.

"Frog's weird," Eddie stated as he looked at the door that the courier had exited through. "Very weird."

Richie simply nodded and finished his beer. "You gonna head out?"

The male Slayer appraised his friend with a critical look. "You want to go back to bed, don't you?"

Richie bowed his head. "Yes," he said meekly.

Shaking his head, Eddie stubbed out his last cigarette and rose. "Then I'll leave you to you slovenly existence." Shrugging his coat on properly, he withdrew another white envelope. "Thanks for the help, Richie," he said with a smile, tossing the chemists payment on the couch. "Drinks on me next time I'm in town."

Richie rose from his seat, stuffed the envelope into a pocket and smiled. "Alright. Say 'hey' to Sid for me." The two shook hands at the door, and Richie watched as Eddie started his car and drove off with a final wave. With a yawn, the chemist closed the front door, locked it, and then shambled off to bed.



.___.___.



Spike smiled to himself as he rolled his wheelchair out of his bedroom. He had been listening to Angelus raging since he had arrived at the mansion wounded, and that always left the blond vampire with a smile. "Evening, luv," he said cheerily to Drusilla.

The female vampire didn't even look at him, but continued to stare at Angelus' room. "Daddy's angry," she observed with no small measure of excitement. "The Slayer and her friends will have to apologize. We'll make them, won't we Spike?" she asked, turning to look at her companion with a pleading and thrilled expression.

"Of course, Princess," Spike said graciously, turning his chair around and rolling forward. "Now come sit over here, and tell me what you think we should do."

Drusilla smiled and danced her way across the room, finally coming to rest on Spike's lap. "Miss Edith says we should give them no tea or biscuits," the vampire queen whispered gleefully. "Then, when they know they've been bad, we think we should cut off their fingers, so they cannot do any more mischief for Daddy!"

Before Spike could respond to Dru, Angel threw open his bedroom door and stalked out, looking so much like an angry lion. "Evening, Angel," Spike said with a grin, his eyes glancing at the still bloodied shirt the other vampire wore. "Smelt you come in last night. Slayer give you another stern talking to?"

Angelus glared black death at the wheelchair-bound vampire. "It wasn't Buffy," he growled.

Spike's mocking laugh echoed though the mansion as he lay his hand on Dru's thigh. "Don't tell me it was the Watcher! Still angry about the gypsy, is he?"

"It wasn't Giles." Tearing off what was left of his shirt, Angel fingered the wound in his shoulder. "It was the damn zombies."

Cocking his head to the side, Spike took a closer look at Angelus' shoulder. "Zombies using guns nowadays? This country really is a mess, ain't it?" The blond vampire frowned as Dru pulled herself off his lap and approached her sire.

"The smelly zombies didn't hurt, Daddy did they?" she asked as she reached Angelus. "No, it was the dark lady." Dru caressed the wound, running her fingers along its edge, bringing her face close and kissing it gently. "The dark lady gave my Angel a new scar."

Angel smiled smugly at Spike as the female vampire attended to his shoulder. "You know Spike, I could have used you last night. Your wheelchair might have slowed the zombies down, some.OW!" Pushing Drusilla way, the vampire looked down at where she had bitten him.

"Weren't you the one who said to leave the zombies alone for awhile? Till we were stronger?" Smirking, Spike rolled over to where Dru had fallen. "Come here, pet. Lets leave Angel alone until he feels better."

Dru rose shakily from the floor, holding her head in a way that had nothing to do from the fall she had taken. "Ooh. The stars are whispering again." she said softly, a small smile coming to her lips. "A shadow is coming.full of death and love." She looked at her sire with a gleeful expression on her face. "They say the shadow will fill all of us and make us part of it."

Angelus, his shoulder forgotten, crossed the length of the room in a few strides and took hold of the female vampire. "Dru," he asked with keen interest. "What else do the stars tell you?"

Closing her eyes, Drusilla circled Angel with a smile on her face. "All sorts of wicked things, but they're being naughty again. They sing and dance around my head, whispering and laughing." Opening her eyes, the vampire stopped smiling. "The shadow will burn the sky black with fire and choke the world with rage."

"Sounds like my kind of shadow," Spike put in from his wheelchair where he was picking at his fingernails. "This town could use a little more fire and rage. Too much bitching and moaning if ya ask me."

Ignoring the crippled vampire, Angel frowned down at Dru. "What this about making us part of it?"

"The shadow will fill us with fire and we will become like black smoke upon the wind," the female vampire said, her smile returning as she reached up to caress her sires' face. "My Angel will be the blackest smoke."

Letting go of Drusilla, Angelus turned away from her and began to pace. "It's not the woman..." he muttered. "She's just a flunky."

"What woman?" Spike asked, his attention grabbed by Angelus' apparent worry. "What the hell are you muttering about?"

"The woman who shot me, you moron!" the elder vampire snarled.

"You mean it wasn't the zombies who shot you?" Spike said mildly. When Angel started to growl and advance on him, Spike frowned at him. "So a woman shot you. Big deal! What's it got to do with the price of blood?"

Instead of responding to Spikes' taunts, Angelus turned his back on both vampires. "Must be the bokor I found in the cemetery that night." Since he had lost his soul, Angel had been the biggest shark in the waters of Sunnydale. It was natural disgust for zombies that had spurred his recent order to increase their numbers. If Dru's vision is true, then I've got another reason. "Jacob!" the vampire yelled, calling in one of his minions. "What's our number at?"

"17 up," the younger vampire said nervously. "8 more should be up tonight."

"Good," Angelus said with a deep growl. "Tonight we go on the warpath. Anything without a demon in it is fair game. Zombie, human.hell if you guys want to kill some puppies go for it. As long as it's public and messy!"

"Well something's got your knickers in a knot." Pushing himself toward his sire, Spike grinned. "Getting shot put you in a bad mood?"

Angel grabbed Spikes' wheelchair and pushed it hard against the wall. "Listen and listen good, sit and spin. This is my town! Everything and everyone belongs to me! Some bokor and his little chica think they can come into my town and start raising hell?" Leaning over, Angel grinned viciously into Spike's face. "No way. Tonight we make sure this shadow guy and his zombies know this town doesn't take to kindly to strangers."

Spike, surprised at the elder vampires' outburst, none the less felt the need to taunt. "And if the Slayer and her friends decided to crash your party?"

"If Buffy and her friends get in our way?" Angelus' smile turned thoughtful and then genuinely sad. "If Buffy tries to stop us, then I'll take care of her." His eyes grew hard as he let Spike go and straightened up. "Anyone gets in my way tonight and the birds will be eating their eyes by morning!"

Spike watched Angel storm into his room and slam the door behind him. Jacob took that moment to retreat to another room, leaving only Drusilla in the room with him. Physically at least.

For in her mind, Drusilla still talking with the stars, and dreaming of the shadows.