Buffy and Willow sprawled across the bed. Various issues of YM, Seventeen and People were scattered on the floor. An open bag of cookies lay between them.
"So," Willow said, "do you think this is a mature way to deal with my anger?"
Buffy shook her head, but gingerly. The swelling was already decreasing but her eye was still sore. "No, but the mature way's not any better. Remind me again why you're angry."
"Well, think about it. There's a girl living in my boyfriend's garage and she's like, kind of cute."
"Come on, Oz is completely Willow-struck. He wouldn't do anything."
Willow pouted. "Oz wouldn't but Josie might."
Buffy gave her friend a sad glance. "Will, you've been listening to too much Loveline."
"Oh, it really wouldn't be her fault." Willow was dead serious, and in Sunnydale that was serious indeed. "Oz exudes a powerful attraction. It can be quite irresistible."
"Right." Buffy struggled to keep a straight face.
"My personal theory is that it has something to do with him being a werewolf."
"You mean kind of an animal magnetism thing." Buffy's voice sounded a little choked.
Willow nodded. "Exactly."
Buffy beckoned with her hand. "Gimme another Fig Newton."
Willow complied. "Does your eye hurt?"
Buffy shrugged, her mouth full. "Looks worse than it feels. Ribs are pretty sore though."
Willow bit into a cookie. "So Angel showed up, huh?"
Buffy sighed. "Yes."
"Wanna talk about it?" Willow tried to sound as though she didn't care one way or the other. She came close.
"Not much to talk about," Buffy said. "I was about to do an Alamo, he showed up, end of story."
"Don't you find it a little weird that you two keep being forced together?"
Buffy shifted. "No," she said quickly. "I mean, I'm the Slayer, he's a vampire, there's a lot of opportunity for our paths to cross."
Willow looked at her. "Is there something else?"
Buffy closed her eyes. When she opened them her best friend was staring at her. The Slayer took a deep breath. "Okay, Will, I'm going to tell you something and you have to promise not to freak."
***
Giles closed the heavy book and shoved it to the far side of the table. That particular volume had yielded exactly no useful information. He slid another book, bound in the hide of some esoteric species, in front of him and opened it. He began to read.
***
Othniel Hampton surveyed the vampires gathered in the room and glowered. They were all behaving abominably. Some were sullen and morose, others on edge and ready to fight anything, even each other, at the drop of a hat, or even a hatpin. Maybe it was that damned vibration, that hum in the air. It was like standing under an electric trunk line, the air charged with so much power that you could practically hear it. The move hadn't helped anyone's attitude, but that was a necessity. Even vampires don't live in burned-out shells. Hampton looked around him, trying to make eye contact with each and every demon. "I know you're angry. I know you've been ready to tear each other apart for days. Well, tonight, we let all that go. Tonight, instead of taking it out on each other, we take it out on them!"
The room erupted in shouts and applause. The Reverend made the rounds, shaking hands, slapping backs, even throwing the odd punch. By sundown they would be worked into a frenzy. The Slayers had taken a toll on his forces; he had only half the number with which he'd arrived in Sunnydale. Tonight, they would swell their numbers. The word was that one of the Slayers would be hors de combat this evening. The other one spent her time staring at Trick's fortress and picking off his scavengers. Torching the house was her only gesture in the Reverend's direction.
Hampton drew a deep breath (or would have if he actually breathed) and watched the windows set high in the wall. The light faded; it was time.
***
"And then you kissed him?" Willow rested her chin on her folded arms and stared at Buffy.
The Slayer blushed. "Yeah. I did."
"Hmm." Willow rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling. "Well, that does complicate things."
"Could you be a little less understanding?" Buffy said. "Yell at me. Tell me I'm crazy. Remind me how I'm endangering the world."
"Sorry," Willow said. "Not judgment girl here. Besides, even if I did all those things, would it make one bit of difference if you were in that situation again?"
"No." Buffy's voice was small and miserable. Willow sat up and swung her feet to the floor.
"There you go," the redhead said. "I will not waste my harangues on you. If you want somebody to make you feel better by yelling at you, don't come to me." An impish grin creased her face. "That's how you really hurt a masochist, you know?"
Buffy looked at her. "Thanks, Will."
***
An expression that was equal parts snarl and smile rested on the face of Othniel Hampton. Already they had amassed seven kills, five of them turned. There had been no sign of either of the Slayers. A breeze riffled through his hair. It was cool on his cheek. A romantic might have called it a clean or refreshing breeze, but he knew all of that was lies. There was no cleansing for this place short of fire. Sorrow and the scourge were all its inhabitants deserved. He was the scourge and he would visit sorrow on them in abundance.
He rounded a corner at the head of his mob and stopped short. Someone bumped into him from behind, an offense that would normally have resulted in immediate death, but he barely noticed. A girl stood in the middle of the sidewalk, to the human eye a thin girl with dark hair, but it pained Hampton to look upon her.
"You," he said. "Why are you here?"
She stood with her hands shoved into the pockets of her oversized coat. "Oh come on. Don't be such a drama queen about it. We're everywhere, just like you."
The other vampires fanned out behind him as he circled around her. She turned with him in order to remain face to face. She didn't seem worried that she was presenting her back to his followers. The blue-white vapors of the streetlight cast strange shadows over the shifting mass.
"Why do you torment us?" he demanded. "Why do you mock what I have become after all my years of service to you?"
"Give it up," she said in a disgusted voice. "You haven't given us anything. You've only taken the memories of a man, a man that you did nasty things to before you killed him. A man who was ours, even if he was a little narrow-minded. Don't think that's gone unnoticed."
Hampton's eyes narrowed like a threatened cat's. "We are what we are. He was weak and so lost his battle. Weak as all who walk on this befouled orb."
"Oh please. At least stop talking like an old G.K. Chesterton short story." The girl shook her shoulder, settling her coat. "And give the 'Oh how this place sucks' routine a rest. You love it here, you know it." A small, nasty smile graced her lips. "I suppose you could always ask Your Father for reassignment."
Hampton hissed in frustration and little fear. "Do not scorn me."
"That's what really bothers you, isn't it? The idea that I don't take you all that seriously, that you're kind of a joke. Get used to it."
"This is your mission now? To make sport of us?"
"No, that's just a bonus. It's the regular gig. Walk around, make a report, keep everybody up-to-date."
Hampton drew himself up. Sensing his intention the other vamps drew close, their eyes and fangs glittering. "You are sure of yourself. Perhaps too sure. What if I take offense at your presence?"
Josie rolled her eyes. "Please." Her hands came out of her pockets and she leaned forward. Her demeanor changed in a subtle way. Her eyes suddenly became miles deep and green fire burned within them. "Now you're just bothering me." She held up her hand and flicked her fingers at them. "Begone," she said and Hampton jumped back as though she held the sun itself in her hand. He turned and hurried away. Such an ignominious retreat might have damaged his standing with his followers except for one fact: They were already halfway down the block.
***
Giles pushed the leather-bound manuscript away and pulled another book into its place. His inquiries into glowing girls had yielded no fruit, so he'd changed tack. Something about the attack on Jack Baker bothered him. Not the attack itself; vampires were ready anytime, anywhere. Rather, it was the frenzied nature of the assault, the way the creatures seemed to be struggling with each other, and with something unseen, that he thought might be a key. So far he had uncovered nothing in that area either. 'Maybe they got hold of some bad blood,' he thought. "Yes," he said to himself, "that would explain it. And I'll be the next queen." He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was time to quit, to try and get some sleep. He closed the books and was gathering them when the knock came at the door.
Giles glanced at the clock. One-thirty a.m., so it wasn't the mailman. Giles rummaged in the closet and brought out the old crossbow. Whoever was there knocked on the door a second time. Holding the weapon with the stock under his right arm, he carefully opened the door with his left hand.
Angel didn't flinch from the crossbow. Giles noticed the blood on his face and the ripped sleeve on his coat.
"Rough night?" the Watcher asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"You might say that."
There was a pause, tension-filled moment that stretched out to a length just short of eternity, then Giles spoke. "You'll understand if I don't invite you in."
Angel nodded. "I understand."
Giles looked at him with hard eyes. "Why are you here?"
A mordant smile danced on Angel's lips and died before it reached his eyes. "That's the question, isn't it? Why am I here at all."
"I've no time for your attempts at wit nor any tolerance for your self-pity." The crossbow had not wavered in Giles' hands. He used it to gesture at Angel's coat. "What happened?"
"That?" Angel fingered the rip. "Tangled with a pack of ghouls. You know how they are. Not very smart, but they keep coming. Finally had to just tear off all their limbs."
Giles remembered how Jack's attackers had acted. "Something's... amiss, isn't it?"
Angel grimaced. "I'll say. It's crawling with even more goblins than normal, and they're all acting like something's driving them crazy."
"Any theories as to what it might be?"
Angel shook his head. "No real theories... but I might have some information for you."
Giles felt the tendons in his neck tighten. "And exactly why would I want information from you?"
Angel ran a hand through his hair. "Giles, I... I'd like to say something that sounds better than 'I'm sorry', but I can't." He looked down at the ground, then back up into the librarian's eyes. "It's tempting to say it wasn't me... Maybe that's partly true. But part of it was me, at least there was some part of me that let Angelus... that fed him... something in my psyche that..."
"Stop it." Giles gripped the crossbow more tightly to disguise the tremor in his hands. "Do you want to hear me say I forgive you? You won't. I remember what you did. I remember... I remember what I came home to find."
Angel's eyes were windows into an anguished soul. "I know what I did. I remember it every day. I've..." He ran out of things to say and looked off into the night, then back at Giles. "You know where I was?"
"Couldn't give you a street address, but I've some idea of the neighborhood." A trace of the Ripper's old accent touched Giles' speech.
"One of the things they like to do there is remind you of all the things you did on earth that brought you to them. They're very good at making you remember." Angel shuddered. "I'll go. But you should talk to the girl."
To his great amazement Giles heard himself say, "I'll stop by on my way to rehearsal."
Angel nodded. "Yeah, I saw a flyer for that. How's it going?"
Giles was surprised; Angel's interest seemed genuine. "Quite well, if I can keep the director from being killed by vampires."
Angel pursed his lips. "Well, good luck. You've got big shoes to fill." He started toward the door.
"You've seen Stewart's performance?" Giles asked.
Angel stopped in the open doorway and turned back, a wistful look on his face. "No. I saw Dickens'." He disappeared into the night.
Giles blinked twice. "Well," he said to the empty doorway, "I doubt if I can measure up to that."
***
"No, that would be a right triangle. See?" Willow pointed with her pencil. Buffy's face twisted into a frown as she tried to decipher her friend's reasoning. She should have done the homework at home. Trying to throw it together in the student lounge was not a primo idea.
"Of course," she said. "How obvious." She set to work erasing her previous figures. Slayer sense detected someone approaching. She looked up just as Xander and Cordelia sat down across from them.
"Buffy, Willow," Xander said. "Where's Oz?"
"I don't know," Willow said, giving it a little head shake and big eye action. "But I'm sure he's with Josie."
Cordelia leaned forward. "Oh Willow, you don't think Oz would dump you for a homeless girl who doesn't even have any clothes, do you? That would be so wrong."
"It's nice to see that you hold such a high opinion of Oz." Xander's voice was soaked in sarcasm. He stood. "Try not to talk about me while I'm getting a soda."
"Don't pay any attention to him," Cordelia said as Xander strolled out of earshot. "He can be such a guy sometimes."
Buffy spoke from behind her geometry textbook. "I think you're both going a little Lifetime here. Oz is not about to dump Willow."
"Well, then, why does he spend so much time around her?" Willow asked in a plaintive voice.
"I can answer that," Xander said, dropping down on the couch and popping the top on a Coke. "He's talking about Christmas."
"Excuse me?" Buffy lowered her book and stared at him.
"I hear 'em yesterday." Xander took a drink. "They were in the cafeteria before sixth period yesterday talking about Christmas."
"Do you think Oz is going to dump me because I'm Jewish?" Willow's voice climbed into its upper register.
Buffy placed a calming hand on her friend's arm. "I feel very safe in saying that category is not even on the board."
Xander chugged his Coke and tossed the empty into the recycling can under the window. He thrust a fist into the air as it dropped in, then looked a little sheepish as he noticed all three girls staring at him. "Oz, uh, Oz just thinks the Christmas story is cool. He says it's got everything-sex, violence, government cover-up, social commentary." He turned to Cordelia. "That reminds me, when is your pageant? Because Oz wants to go."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "It's on Christmas Eve, you yutz."
Willow pointed to herself. "But if Christmas is so important to Oz, why doesn't her ever talk to me about it?"
Cordelia shook her head. "It's a bad sign when couples start keeping things from each other."
"Really?" Xander glanced at her. "I thought it was the foundation of our relationship. Ow." He rubbed his upper arm.
Buffy bounced her geometry book on her knees. "Here's a crazy idea. Maybe it's out of respect. You know, you don't celebrate Christmas so he doesn't go on around you."
Willow brightened. "Really? How sweet."
"So Buffy, Oz is going to the pageant. It goes without saying that I'm there. You in?" Xander propped his feet on the coffee table.
Buffy shook her head. "I don't know. Probably not."
"I'm in." Willow raised her hand.
There was a beat of silence, then Buffy said, "Willow, are you sure about this?"
"Yes. It's time to walk on the wild side. Besides, it's good to expose ourselves to different cultures." Willow sounded very sure.
Xander snickered. "Different cultures? Will, it's the Presbyterian church on the corner, not Nepal."
Willow shrugged. "Still."
"Let me get this straight." Cordelia pointed at first Willow, then Xander. "You're both coming to the pageant?" They nodded. "Great. Now I'm playing the guardian angel of geeks." Willow scooped up her books.
"I gotta go," she said. "See you later?" Buffy nodded. Willow zipped her backpack and hurried down the hall. She turned a corner at full speed and smacked into Josie.
"Whoa," said the brunette as she staggered back. "Where's the fire, Willow?"
"I'm sorry," Willow stammered, hands waving.
"It's okay." Josie shook herself dramatically. "I don't think anything's broken."
"Well, then, it's good." Willow put her head down and ducked around the other girl.
"Hey, mind if I walk with you?" Josie fell into step with the redhead. Willow shrugged.
"I guess not."
"I wanted to thank you for how cool you've been about me staying at Oz's house," Josie said.
The redhead shrugged, unsure of what to say. "You're welcome."
"You've got great friends."
"Thank you." A thought occurred to Willow. "Can I, uh, ask you something?"
"Sure."
Willow stepped into an alcove by a soda machine. "How did you... I mean, what happened... Do you have a family? I'm sorry if that's too personal." Willow bit her lip.
Josie looked at her feet, then back up at Willow. "That's pretty personal. Any particular reason you're asking?"
Willow shook her head. "No. I just wondered, is all."
As they passed a bulletin board Josie looked at a flyer stuck to it. Her face was turned away from Willow. "You know, you're a really lousy liar."
Willow winced. "I know. I think it's something genetic, like I have a mutation or something. But I'm not trying to be mean."
"Buffy's never talked about what happened to her, has she?" Josie raised a questioning eyebrow.
"How did you know about Buffy?"
"She told me. Oh, she didn't tell me what happened. She just told me she ran away. Was she gone long?"
Willow drew in on herself. "Depends on what you call 'long'. She was gone a whole summer. We still don't know where she went or what happened."
"And you're hoping I can provide a little insight?"
"Something like that," Willow admitted.
"You do know she doesn't like me?"
"I think... I think that's because you remind her of... that time." Willow's voice was a little shaky.
"Sorry." Josie sounded very apologetic. "Didn't mean to pick at old scabs. I'll answer your question. No. I never had a family like you or like Buffy. Not even like Cordelia, or Xander for that matter."
"Wow." Willow's voice was soft. "You've always been alone?"
Josie's shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "More or less."
"I'm so sorry." It was the only thing Willow could think of. A great sadness filled her as she thought of this girl, and of Buffy, alone with nowhere to turn.
"Thanks for the feeling, but don't be sorry for me." Josie smiled. "There's no other way for me to be." Josie hesitated. "It was no accident she came back. You should stop worrying about it."
Willow pursed her lips. "Easier said than done and all that."
"I know. Hey, want a soda?" Josie hit the button twice. Two Dr. Peppers came rattling down the chute. She handed one to Willow. "You've got to stop trying to control everything. You can't do it."
"I'm not particularly controlling, in fact, I'm pretty non-controlling." As Willow spoke her head gave that little wiggle that betrayed her bravado.
"Right." Josie grinned and took a drink. "Listen, I'm not going to stress about it. I'm just saying, you know? See you 'round." She walked off, coat flapping.
Willow scowled. "Control freak. Me? Right." She frowned at the can of soda in her hand. She realized that she'd never seen Josie put money in the machine.
"So," Willow said, "do you think this is a mature way to deal with my anger?"
Buffy shook her head, but gingerly. The swelling was already decreasing but her eye was still sore. "No, but the mature way's not any better. Remind me again why you're angry."
"Well, think about it. There's a girl living in my boyfriend's garage and she's like, kind of cute."
"Come on, Oz is completely Willow-struck. He wouldn't do anything."
Willow pouted. "Oz wouldn't but Josie might."
Buffy gave her friend a sad glance. "Will, you've been listening to too much Loveline."
"Oh, it really wouldn't be her fault." Willow was dead serious, and in Sunnydale that was serious indeed. "Oz exudes a powerful attraction. It can be quite irresistible."
"Right." Buffy struggled to keep a straight face.
"My personal theory is that it has something to do with him being a werewolf."
"You mean kind of an animal magnetism thing." Buffy's voice sounded a little choked.
Willow nodded. "Exactly."
Buffy beckoned with her hand. "Gimme another Fig Newton."
Willow complied. "Does your eye hurt?"
Buffy shrugged, her mouth full. "Looks worse than it feels. Ribs are pretty sore though."
Willow bit into a cookie. "So Angel showed up, huh?"
Buffy sighed. "Yes."
"Wanna talk about it?" Willow tried to sound as though she didn't care one way or the other. She came close.
"Not much to talk about," Buffy said. "I was about to do an Alamo, he showed up, end of story."
"Don't you find it a little weird that you two keep being forced together?"
Buffy shifted. "No," she said quickly. "I mean, I'm the Slayer, he's a vampire, there's a lot of opportunity for our paths to cross."
Willow looked at her. "Is there something else?"
Buffy closed her eyes. When she opened them her best friend was staring at her. The Slayer took a deep breath. "Okay, Will, I'm going to tell you something and you have to promise not to freak."
***
Giles closed the heavy book and shoved it to the far side of the table. That particular volume had yielded exactly no useful information. He slid another book, bound in the hide of some esoteric species, in front of him and opened it. He began to read.
***
Othniel Hampton surveyed the vampires gathered in the room and glowered. They were all behaving abominably. Some were sullen and morose, others on edge and ready to fight anything, even each other, at the drop of a hat, or even a hatpin. Maybe it was that damned vibration, that hum in the air. It was like standing under an electric trunk line, the air charged with so much power that you could practically hear it. The move hadn't helped anyone's attitude, but that was a necessity. Even vampires don't live in burned-out shells. Hampton looked around him, trying to make eye contact with each and every demon. "I know you're angry. I know you've been ready to tear each other apart for days. Well, tonight, we let all that go. Tonight, instead of taking it out on each other, we take it out on them!"
The room erupted in shouts and applause. The Reverend made the rounds, shaking hands, slapping backs, even throwing the odd punch. By sundown they would be worked into a frenzy. The Slayers had taken a toll on his forces; he had only half the number with which he'd arrived in Sunnydale. Tonight, they would swell their numbers. The word was that one of the Slayers would be hors de combat this evening. The other one spent her time staring at Trick's fortress and picking off his scavengers. Torching the house was her only gesture in the Reverend's direction.
Hampton drew a deep breath (or would have if he actually breathed) and watched the windows set high in the wall. The light faded; it was time.
***
"And then you kissed him?" Willow rested her chin on her folded arms and stared at Buffy.
The Slayer blushed. "Yeah. I did."
"Hmm." Willow rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling. "Well, that does complicate things."
"Could you be a little less understanding?" Buffy said. "Yell at me. Tell me I'm crazy. Remind me how I'm endangering the world."
"Sorry," Willow said. "Not judgment girl here. Besides, even if I did all those things, would it make one bit of difference if you were in that situation again?"
"No." Buffy's voice was small and miserable. Willow sat up and swung her feet to the floor.
"There you go," the redhead said. "I will not waste my harangues on you. If you want somebody to make you feel better by yelling at you, don't come to me." An impish grin creased her face. "That's how you really hurt a masochist, you know?"
Buffy looked at her. "Thanks, Will."
***
An expression that was equal parts snarl and smile rested on the face of Othniel Hampton. Already they had amassed seven kills, five of them turned. There had been no sign of either of the Slayers. A breeze riffled through his hair. It was cool on his cheek. A romantic might have called it a clean or refreshing breeze, but he knew all of that was lies. There was no cleansing for this place short of fire. Sorrow and the scourge were all its inhabitants deserved. He was the scourge and he would visit sorrow on them in abundance.
He rounded a corner at the head of his mob and stopped short. Someone bumped into him from behind, an offense that would normally have resulted in immediate death, but he barely noticed. A girl stood in the middle of the sidewalk, to the human eye a thin girl with dark hair, but it pained Hampton to look upon her.
"You," he said. "Why are you here?"
She stood with her hands shoved into the pockets of her oversized coat. "Oh come on. Don't be such a drama queen about it. We're everywhere, just like you."
The other vampires fanned out behind him as he circled around her. She turned with him in order to remain face to face. She didn't seem worried that she was presenting her back to his followers. The blue-white vapors of the streetlight cast strange shadows over the shifting mass.
"Why do you torment us?" he demanded. "Why do you mock what I have become after all my years of service to you?"
"Give it up," she said in a disgusted voice. "You haven't given us anything. You've only taken the memories of a man, a man that you did nasty things to before you killed him. A man who was ours, even if he was a little narrow-minded. Don't think that's gone unnoticed."
Hampton's eyes narrowed like a threatened cat's. "We are what we are. He was weak and so lost his battle. Weak as all who walk on this befouled orb."
"Oh please. At least stop talking like an old G.K. Chesterton short story." The girl shook her shoulder, settling her coat. "And give the 'Oh how this place sucks' routine a rest. You love it here, you know it." A small, nasty smile graced her lips. "I suppose you could always ask Your Father for reassignment."
Hampton hissed in frustration and little fear. "Do not scorn me."
"That's what really bothers you, isn't it? The idea that I don't take you all that seriously, that you're kind of a joke. Get used to it."
"This is your mission now? To make sport of us?"
"No, that's just a bonus. It's the regular gig. Walk around, make a report, keep everybody up-to-date."
Hampton drew himself up. Sensing his intention the other vamps drew close, their eyes and fangs glittering. "You are sure of yourself. Perhaps too sure. What if I take offense at your presence?"
Josie rolled her eyes. "Please." Her hands came out of her pockets and she leaned forward. Her demeanor changed in a subtle way. Her eyes suddenly became miles deep and green fire burned within them. "Now you're just bothering me." She held up her hand and flicked her fingers at them. "Begone," she said and Hampton jumped back as though she held the sun itself in her hand. He turned and hurried away. Such an ignominious retreat might have damaged his standing with his followers except for one fact: They were already halfway down the block.
***
Giles pushed the leather-bound manuscript away and pulled another book into its place. His inquiries into glowing girls had yielded no fruit, so he'd changed tack. Something about the attack on Jack Baker bothered him. Not the attack itself; vampires were ready anytime, anywhere. Rather, it was the frenzied nature of the assault, the way the creatures seemed to be struggling with each other, and with something unseen, that he thought might be a key. So far he had uncovered nothing in that area either. 'Maybe they got hold of some bad blood,' he thought. "Yes," he said to himself, "that would explain it. And I'll be the next queen." He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was time to quit, to try and get some sleep. He closed the books and was gathering them when the knock came at the door.
Giles glanced at the clock. One-thirty a.m., so it wasn't the mailman. Giles rummaged in the closet and brought out the old crossbow. Whoever was there knocked on the door a second time. Holding the weapon with the stock under his right arm, he carefully opened the door with his left hand.
Angel didn't flinch from the crossbow. Giles noticed the blood on his face and the ripped sleeve on his coat.
"Rough night?" the Watcher asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"You might say that."
There was a pause, tension-filled moment that stretched out to a length just short of eternity, then Giles spoke. "You'll understand if I don't invite you in."
Angel nodded. "I understand."
Giles looked at him with hard eyes. "Why are you here?"
A mordant smile danced on Angel's lips and died before it reached his eyes. "That's the question, isn't it? Why am I here at all."
"I've no time for your attempts at wit nor any tolerance for your self-pity." The crossbow had not wavered in Giles' hands. He used it to gesture at Angel's coat. "What happened?"
"That?" Angel fingered the rip. "Tangled with a pack of ghouls. You know how they are. Not very smart, but they keep coming. Finally had to just tear off all their limbs."
Giles remembered how Jack's attackers had acted. "Something's... amiss, isn't it?"
Angel grimaced. "I'll say. It's crawling with even more goblins than normal, and they're all acting like something's driving them crazy."
"Any theories as to what it might be?"
Angel shook his head. "No real theories... but I might have some information for you."
Giles felt the tendons in his neck tighten. "And exactly why would I want information from you?"
Angel ran a hand through his hair. "Giles, I... I'd like to say something that sounds better than 'I'm sorry', but I can't." He looked down at the ground, then back up into the librarian's eyes. "It's tempting to say it wasn't me... Maybe that's partly true. But part of it was me, at least there was some part of me that let Angelus... that fed him... something in my psyche that..."
"Stop it." Giles gripped the crossbow more tightly to disguise the tremor in his hands. "Do you want to hear me say I forgive you? You won't. I remember what you did. I remember... I remember what I came home to find."
Angel's eyes were windows into an anguished soul. "I know what I did. I remember it every day. I've..." He ran out of things to say and looked off into the night, then back at Giles. "You know where I was?"
"Couldn't give you a street address, but I've some idea of the neighborhood." A trace of the Ripper's old accent touched Giles' speech.
"One of the things they like to do there is remind you of all the things you did on earth that brought you to them. They're very good at making you remember." Angel shuddered. "I'll go. But you should talk to the girl."
To his great amazement Giles heard himself say, "I'll stop by on my way to rehearsal."
Angel nodded. "Yeah, I saw a flyer for that. How's it going?"
Giles was surprised; Angel's interest seemed genuine. "Quite well, if I can keep the director from being killed by vampires."
Angel pursed his lips. "Well, good luck. You've got big shoes to fill." He started toward the door.
"You've seen Stewart's performance?" Giles asked.
Angel stopped in the open doorway and turned back, a wistful look on his face. "No. I saw Dickens'." He disappeared into the night.
Giles blinked twice. "Well," he said to the empty doorway, "I doubt if I can measure up to that."
***
"No, that would be a right triangle. See?" Willow pointed with her pencil. Buffy's face twisted into a frown as she tried to decipher her friend's reasoning. She should have done the homework at home. Trying to throw it together in the student lounge was not a primo idea.
"Of course," she said. "How obvious." She set to work erasing her previous figures. Slayer sense detected someone approaching. She looked up just as Xander and Cordelia sat down across from them.
"Buffy, Willow," Xander said. "Where's Oz?"
"I don't know," Willow said, giving it a little head shake and big eye action. "But I'm sure he's with Josie."
Cordelia leaned forward. "Oh Willow, you don't think Oz would dump you for a homeless girl who doesn't even have any clothes, do you? That would be so wrong."
"It's nice to see that you hold such a high opinion of Oz." Xander's voice was soaked in sarcasm. He stood. "Try not to talk about me while I'm getting a soda."
"Don't pay any attention to him," Cordelia said as Xander strolled out of earshot. "He can be such a guy sometimes."
Buffy spoke from behind her geometry textbook. "I think you're both going a little Lifetime here. Oz is not about to dump Willow."
"Well, then, why does he spend so much time around her?" Willow asked in a plaintive voice.
"I can answer that," Xander said, dropping down on the couch and popping the top on a Coke. "He's talking about Christmas."
"Excuse me?" Buffy lowered her book and stared at him.
"I hear 'em yesterday." Xander took a drink. "They were in the cafeteria before sixth period yesterday talking about Christmas."
"Do you think Oz is going to dump me because I'm Jewish?" Willow's voice climbed into its upper register.
Buffy placed a calming hand on her friend's arm. "I feel very safe in saying that category is not even on the board."
Xander chugged his Coke and tossed the empty into the recycling can under the window. He thrust a fist into the air as it dropped in, then looked a little sheepish as he noticed all three girls staring at him. "Oz, uh, Oz just thinks the Christmas story is cool. He says it's got everything-sex, violence, government cover-up, social commentary." He turned to Cordelia. "That reminds me, when is your pageant? Because Oz wants to go."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "It's on Christmas Eve, you yutz."
Willow pointed to herself. "But if Christmas is so important to Oz, why doesn't her ever talk to me about it?"
Cordelia shook her head. "It's a bad sign when couples start keeping things from each other."
"Really?" Xander glanced at her. "I thought it was the foundation of our relationship. Ow." He rubbed his upper arm.
Buffy bounced her geometry book on her knees. "Here's a crazy idea. Maybe it's out of respect. You know, you don't celebrate Christmas so he doesn't go on around you."
Willow brightened. "Really? How sweet."
"So Buffy, Oz is going to the pageant. It goes without saying that I'm there. You in?" Xander propped his feet on the coffee table.
Buffy shook her head. "I don't know. Probably not."
"I'm in." Willow raised her hand.
There was a beat of silence, then Buffy said, "Willow, are you sure about this?"
"Yes. It's time to walk on the wild side. Besides, it's good to expose ourselves to different cultures." Willow sounded very sure.
Xander snickered. "Different cultures? Will, it's the Presbyterian church on the corner, not Nepal."
Willow shrugged. "Still."
"Let me get this straight." Cordelia pointed at first Willow, then Xander. "You're both coming to the pageant?" They nodded. "Great. Now I'm playing the guardian angel of geeks." Willow scooped up her books.
"I gotta go," she said. "See you later?" Buffy nodded. Willow zipped her backpack and hurried down the hall. She turned a corner at full speed and smacked into Josie.
"Whoa," said the brunette as she staggered back. "Where's the fire, Willow?"
"I'm sorry," Willow stammered, hands waving.
"It's okay." Josie shook herself dramatically. "I don't think anything's broken."
"Well, then, it's good." Willow put her head down and ducked around the other girl.
"Hey, mind if I walk with you?" Josie fell into step with the redhead. Willow shrugged.
"I guess not."
"I wanted to thank you for how cool you've been about me staying at Oz's house," Josie said.
The redhead shrugged, unsure of what to say. "You're welcome."
"You've got great friends."
"Thank you." A thought occurred to Willow. "Can I, uh, ask you something?"
"Sure."
Willow stepped into an alcove by a soda machine. "How did you... I mean, what happened... Do you have a family? I'm sorry if that's too personal." Willow bit her lip.
Josie looked at her feet, then back up at Willow. "That's pretty personal. Any particular reason you're asking?"
Willow shook her head. "No. I just wondered, is all."
As they passed a bulletin board Josie looked at a flyer stuck to it. Her face was turned away from Willow. "You know, you're a really lousy liar."
Willow winced. "I know. I think it's something genetic, like I have a mutation or something. But I'm not trying to be mean."
"Buffy's never talked about what happened to her, has she?" Josie raised a questioning eyebrow.
"How did you know about Buffy?"
"She told me. Oh, she didn't tell me what happened. She just told me she ran away. Was she gone long?"
Willow drew in on herself. "Depends on what you call 'long'. She was gone a whole summer. We still don't know where she went or what happened."
"And you're hoping I can provide a little insight?"
"Something like that," Willow admitted.
"You do know she doesn't like me?"
"I think... I think that's because you remind her of... that time." Willow's voice was a little shaky.
"Sorry." Josie sounded very apologetic. "Didn't mean to pick at old scabs. I'll answer your question. No. I never had a family like you or like Buffy. Not even like Cordelia, or Xander for that matter."
"Wow." Willow's voice was soft. "You've always been alone?"
Josie's shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "More or less."
"I'm so sorry." It was the only thing Willow could think of. A great sadness filled her as she thought of this girl, and of Buffy, alone with nowhere to turn.
"Thanks for the feeling, but don't be sorry for me." Josie smiled. "There's no other way for me to be." Josie hesitated. "It was no accident she came back. You should stop worrying about it."
Willow pursed her lips. "Easier said than done and all that."
"I know. Hey, want a soda?" Josie hit the button twice. Two Dr. Peppers came rattling down the chute. She handed one to Willow. "You've got to stop trying to control everything. You can't do it."
"I'm not particularly controlling, in fact, I'm pretty non-controlling." As Willow spoke her head gave that little wiggle that betrayed her bravado.
"Right." Josie grinned and took a drink. "Listen, I'm not going to stress about it. I'm just saying, you know? See you 'round." She walked off, coat flapping.
Willow scowled. "Control freak. Me? Right." She frowned at the can of soda in her hand. She realized that she'd never seen Josie put money in the machine.