In the Space of a Journey

by Sonya

AU. UC. Destiny Lost, Part 3. Something's up with the Watcher's Council and the gang most go investigate. Can we say road trip? [Cowritten w Erin]

16. Chapter 15

In the Space of a Journey
Chapter Fifteen

England: The Compound

Under the cover of the wave of surprised exclamations sweeping the assembly, Buffy leaned forward and grabbed Giles by the shoulders. "Aidan is the third judge?"

Giles looked just as shocked as Buffy felt. "I... I don't know..."

"This is just odd," Wesley grumbled to himself. "Of all the people, they pick him?"

Buffy thought back to that day in Aidan's flat. She leaned in so she could whisper to Giles without even Wesley overhearing. "He must be on the side of whoever's behind the kidnapping. That would explain why he threw Doyle out, the one person who suspected the Council. And now the conspiracy people arranged for him to have this job! This tribunal is a set up, Giles!"

Giles turned around and looked at Buffy fiercely. He hissed. "Don't say such things. Not in here. And no matter what we think, we can't do anything about it now, and not without proof."

"Order!" Marcus bellowed suddenly. All conversations trickled to a stop. Giles gave Buffy one more stern look and turned around. Buffy sat back in on her bench, but she wasn't upset at Giles's reprimand. Now she knew now, for sure, that Giles wouldn't blindly trust the Council. She'd suspected as much all along, but now she had confirmation. And if Giles was suspicious, then it made her feel not so off-base in her own fears.

Proconsul Chamberlain struck his gavel against a small circlet of wood, distracting Buffy from her thoughts. "May I have order, please," the man said, his voice polite. "It is time for the tribunal to begin."

At the sound of his voice, Buffy looked up and found his eyes on her. She stared back at him for a second, and then he smiled. Confused, Buffy looked away.

"Mr. Barrows, if you would like to begin," Chamberlain said, shifting his gaze over to the man in question.

"Yes, sir," Barrows replied, and then he stood up to begin his speech.

"The Watchers' Council has been an institution for hundreds of years," Barrows began. He paced back and forth as he spoke, giving eye-contact both to the three judges and to the people in the audience. He exuded confidence with each and every word. "We have a sacred duty to nurture and protect the Slayer, and we are honor-bound to save our world from the minions of darkness that try to overtake it at every turn. But to do so sets us as a breed apart from normal men and women. We must live outside the world to have the perspective to save it." A murmur of agreement echoed around the room as Barrows quoted Council lore, but a stern look from Chamberlain squelched it so Barrows could continue his speech.

"Our sacred duties have been passed down to us...," Barrows said with an undercurrent of emotion beneath his proper words and diction. "To all of us... for generations. It is a destiny second in importance only to the destiny of the Slayer, and as such it must be taken seriously. Every Watcher takes an oath upon ascending to his or her office, an oath of loyalty, honesty and lifelong service for as long as it will be needed. It has taken the Council centuries to discover the proper rules and the necessary mandates for doing our sacred duty, which have been written down in the Watchers' Codes, and we have all taken the oath to observe those Codes of conduct despite what we feel in the heat of the moment. This takes flaw and human error out of the equasion, as it has been proved many times over the years."

Barrows turned dramatically and stared straight at Giles. "But today a man has been brought before us. He has broken the Codes that bind us together, the Codes he swore to uphold. He has fractured the unity of the Council, and without that unity our work to save the world stands at the brink of chaos. This man, Watcher Rupert Giles, falsified reports and evidence. He allowed his Slayer's spine to be broken, and then instead of calling upon the Council for help he took it upon himself to appoint a human male to fill the role. He appointed himself the Slayer's father, and he told unknown numbers our secrets, including a vampire! And then Mr. Giles arranged for the most secret of our records to be pilfered, and he again took it upon himself to Choose the next Slayer, only this time he performed a spell that moved the powers from the broken Slayer to the new girl. Mr. Giles took the Choosing out of the hands of the Powers that Be, elevating himself to a higher position than any man, Watcher or not, deserves!"

Rumors had been flying for weeks, but now Giles's crimes were out there for all to see. Accusatory glances were directed his way. He sat calmly, listening to it all as if he were an impartial observer. Buffy didn't think she could be so tranquil in his shoes.

"Now we are here to decide what to do with this man," Barrows continued, looking back at the judges. "He will claim extenuating circumstances, of course. He will claim that the Council cannot understand what it was like for him, that he had no choice, perhaps even that there were things on a Hellmouth to deal with that we never anticipated. But he is wrong. All these things have been anticipated, and that is why our Codes were written, to protect the Slayer and, first and foremost, more important than any one person, to protect the world from all that is evil. Mr. Giles has caused us to call the first disciplinary tribunal in over a century. He has broken down everything we've sworn to protect, and as we continue, I will prove that, had they not been stopped, his actions would have had even more serious effects than they have already. And all I ask is that you listen with your minds, not your hearts. If you do that then the verdict will be obvious, as will the penalty. Mr. Giles must be stripped of his duty of active Watcher, and punished, at the very least, by immediate expulsion from the Council and allowed no further contact with the Slayer on pain of death!"

Barrows paused and took a deep breath. "Thank you," he said, and then he took his seat again.

Giles and Wesley exchanged a glance, and then Wesley stood up to begin his opening speech.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"We're missing the tribunal."

"Someone had to stay here."

"But how often is there a tribunal? Once a millennia? We could leave her alone for a little while. She's unconscious, and even if she does wake up, she wouldn't get past the locks *and* the doors."

"Hush! She's coming around."

Sonya heard the voices before she opened her eyes, but they were just sounds. The words didn't make any sense. Pain flooded her head as she crept closer and closer to consciousness. She didn't want to wake up. Something deep inside told her that waking up and opening her eyes was bad. But she couldn't help it. Sonya opened her eyes and looked around.

The light blinded her for an instant -- fluorescent light bounced off of mirrored walls and stainless-steel surfaces. When her eyes adjusted, she saw a man and a woman looking down on her. Both wore white robes and carried clipboards.

She tried to lick her lips, but her tongue and mouth were just as dry. "Water," she croaked, trying to remember how she'd gotten there.

The woman looked at her for a minute. Then she picked up a pitcher on the table next to the bed and filled a glass. With gentle hands, the woman raised Sonya's head up a little bit, and held the glass to her lips. Sonya drank greedily until the glass was empty. The woman removed the glass and put the girl's head back down on the pillow.

Sonya searched through her memory, but things were fuzzy. She couldn't remember why she was in the hospital. Then again, she'd been in and out of the hospital so many times since her accident, it wasn't surprising that they all blended together. But something nagged at her about this time. There was something wrong about it. The way the man and woman were staring at each other over her head...

"Excuse me, but can you tell me..." Sonya tried to raise her hand to touch the woman's white sleeve. That was the moment she realized that she was bound in the bed by thick leather straps. She couldn't move her hands, her feet or anything.

"Hey!" she protested, trying to move, but it was no use. Even when she'd had the Slayer powers she would have been hard-pressed to break these bonds. "What are..." That was when the memories started flooding back... again. England, vampires, Doyle, a cell, food dusted with tiger whiskers that shredded her insides, more torture (called experiments of her healing factor) including poisons, knives, lashes and worse. No wonder she'd repressed!

Tears brimmed in her eyes. Sonya fought them, determined to show her captors her strength. Only one tear escaped. Looking straight at the woman, Sonya asked, "Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you just let me go?"

The man laughed. "Let you go? Preposterous. What kind of fools do you take us for? Do you really think we'd just let you go when your powers can do so much for our..."

The woman stopped his voice with a steely-eyed glance. "Hush, Charles! You should know better how to guard your tongue."

Charles looked suitably abashed.

"Just tell me one thing, then," Sonya demanded. She knew they didn't have to tell her anything they didn't want to, but she had to try, and she had to keep the normal edge to her personality. Holding onto appearances of strength was all the strength she had left. "What happened to Doyle? Are you torturing him, too?"

The woman seemed to take pity on Sonya. "He's still in the cell. He's as fine as he was when you left him."

Sonya grimaced at that comment -- as if she'd had a choice about leaving. "And how long are you planning to keep him that way?"

Charles shook his head. "I wouldn't ask that question, if I were you."

Then the two of them turned away from her and walked out the door, leaving her alone with only multiple copies of her own reflection for company.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"...and so we cannot depend just upon rules and regulations for this case. You must all search your hearts..."

Xander turned to Joyce with a sigh as Wesley walked right into Barrows' trap, and whispered in her ear, "He's saying exactly what Barrows said he would say! That's not going to help Giles."

"But what other argument can he make?" Joyce pointed out, her voice no more than a tiny gust of wind against Xander's cheek. "It's not his fault that Barrows is experienced enough to anticipate that." She sighed as Wesley stumbled over his wording again. "Though I wish someone else had been appointed to defend Giles."

Xander winced, wishing the same thing. "I hope they do something noisier soon, so we can get out of here and do our job."

Joyce's tiny smile said she wished the same thing. They weren't doing any good just sitting and listening to the proceedings.

"...so please keep these things in mind as you listen to the circumstantial evidence that is brought before you against Mr. Giles. Er... and thank you." Wesley nodded briefly at the judges before sinking gratefully back into his chair.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Chamberlain said. His ringing tones appropriately filled the huge chamber. When the proconsul spoke, his words seemed to fill the room. "Now, the first order of business, before we hear any testimony, is the testing of the Slayer. This will determine much about Mr. Giles capability in his appointed position." Chamberlain paused and then looked straight at Buffy. "Are you prepared?"

Giles glanced back at her and whispered, "Stand when you address them, Buffy."

Nervously, Buffy stood. She could feel hundreds of eyes boring into her. "Um... yes, sir. I'm ready. I just have to dress... I mean change out of my dress... uh... and into workout clothes," she stammered. She felt a hot flush coloring her cheeks.

"Quite right," Chamberlain replied, an indulgent smile on his lips. "The tribunal shall recess for..." He glanced at his watch. "... fifteen minutes. And then we will reconvene at court number six." The proconsul's eyes were cold when they landed on Giles. "And Mr. Giles, please remember, you are to have no contact with the Slayer until after the test."

Giles nodded, and then turned to give Buffy one last, encouraging half-smile. Buffy smiled back as Marcus walked over to her.

"Are you quite ready?" he asked.

Buffy nodded. She picked up her bag and her jacket and started for the door of the chamber with Marcus as escort. She could feel the eyes on her again, and she focused on her feet.

A hand stopped her before she had quite reached the door. She looked up and saw Xander looking at her with love in his eyes.

"I know you can do this, Buffy. I have faith in you." He clasped her hand for a second. Buffy felt something hard pressed her palm. She gave him a puzzled smile before stuffing the cold, metal object in her jacket pocket quickly so that Marcus wouldn't notice.

"Thanks, Xan." Before she could ask what it was that he'd given her, Marcus placed a hand on her shoulder and, after shooting Xander a glare, escorted her through the imposing doors.

As Buffy walked through the doors and into the hallway, she glanced over her shoulder one last time and caught sight of Xander. He gave her one of his quirky, lopsided grins and a thumbs up sign. She smiled back at him, already feeling more confident just knowing that he believed in her.

As she turned a corner and headed down the hallway toward the exercise courts, Buffy kept Xander's image in the forefront of her mind. As soon as Buffy was in the changing room, and sure she was alone, she reached into her jacket pocket to discover what Xander had given her. It was a silver ring with a cross symbol etched on it. It was obviously one of Xander's rings since it was too big to fit on her ring finger. In fact, now that she thought about it, Buffy vaguely remembering him wearing it a time or two, though not too often -- Xander wasn't really a ring man. Smiling, Buffy quickly slid the ring onto her right, middle finger, happy to have something of Xander's to hold onto during the trials ahead.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After Buffy had been escorted out of the room, Wesley and Giles walked out together. The judges disappeared into the chambers behind the podium, and then the rest of the crowd began to disperse quickly, most of them heading for the exercise courts hoping to get prime seating to watch the Slayer do her thing.

Joyce and Xander were almost the last two people in the room. Xander glanced at Joyce. It was now or never. She nodded, affirming that she was ready, too. Casually, they stood and walked out of the room. In the hallway, they followed the crowd a short distance, until they passed an unobtrusive, open door. They slipped inside to wait, shutting the door behind them.

"It won't be long," Joyce whispered, looking at her watch. "Buffy's test will start in about five minutes. Then we should be free to snoop around."

"As free as we'll ever be," Xander replied softly. He looked around the room as much as he could without turning on the light. Only a few beams of sunlight were able to make their way through the closed blinds. The room appeared to be an anteroom of some sort. There was a table with a few chairs, a couple of shelves, a painting or two on the walls, and that was about it.

Glancing back at Joyce, Xander suggested, "Maybe we should plan our strategy while we have time."

"Good idea." Joyce nodded in agreement.

Xander thought back to what Giles had told them about the Compound. The boy wished again that Giles had a map of the building, but no such luck. "Now, Giles said that the upper levels are mostly living quarters," he murmured, aware, as ever, of how bad it would look for Giles and Buffy if he and Joyce were caught somewhere they weren't supposed to be. "I agree with him that the logical place for Sonya and Doyle to be hidden is downstairs, in the basement level or lower. We just have to find the right stairway."

Suddenly, Joyce's eyes lit up with excitement. "Do you remember the tour we took the other day?"

Xander nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"Well, I think I remember passing a stairway that went down. Remember right after we came back inside and Buffy had gone to the ladies room? That woman, Ms. Post, opened a door underneath that large, main staircase near the front doors. I was standing right behind her, and I thought it was just going to be a closet. Then, I swear, I saw a staircase. It was only for a minute then she went inside and closed the door, but it was there."

"Great!" Xander exclaimed quietly. "At least now we've got a place to start." He glanced at his watch. "Well, it's time. Ready?"

Joyce nodded, and Xander opened the door. He stepped out into an empty hallway. He could hear the muffled noise of cheering and yelling coming from his left. He turned right and began walking quickly toward the entrance of the mansion. Joyce kept right on his heels. Luckily, they didn't pass anyone in the halls. Apparently, almost everyone was in the exercise courts watching the events of the day. When they got to the grand staircase in the front of the mansion, the door was just where Joyce had remembered. Xander motioned for her to stand back, then he tried the door. It was locked. He looked at Joyce.

"You have the keys Giles gave you?"

Joyce nodded and pulled the small key ring out of her pocket. Giles had given her a copy of his master key. It was supposed to fit all the locks in the Compound that weren't private quarters. He hadn't been sure it would still work, but it was the only one they had so it was worth a try. Also on the ring were copies of the rental car keys, and a small key that Joyce could only assume belonged to Giles's suitcase. She put the master key in the lock, and the door opened easily.

Xander looked at the door incredulously. "I expected it to be a little harder than that."

Joyce slid the keys back into her pocket, and then walked through the door. "Don't worry until there's something to worry about," she advised him. "Come on!"

Xander followed her inside and closed the door after them. The stairs went down for a flight, and then they found themselves in a little room. There were two velvet covered chairs with an antique table between them on one side of the room, and on the other side was a fireplace. Two unlit torches framed the mantle over the fireplace. There wasn't anything else.

"What the hell is this?" Xander demanded angrily, the frustration he'd been holding inside ever since the trip started to go sour finally bubbling forth. "Who puts a deadend room at the bottom of their freaking staircase? There's nothing here!" Despairing thoughts of failure at helping Buffy, Giles, Sonya and everyone else whirled around in his head.

"Shhh!" Joyce cautioned, touching his arm to calm him down. "I think you're asking the right questions, but you should ask them more quietly."

Xander glared at Joyce. "You realize we're going to have to start all over now, and we don't know where to go in this huge place. It's going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack!"

"Maybe not," Joyce replied thoughtfully. "I think you were on the right track before. You're right, there's no reason to put a room down here like this, unless there is something here... something we're not seeing."

Looking around, Xander didn't see anything that could be construed as a door or more stairs. He leaned down and peered into the fireplace. Nothing but a brick wall. He craned his neck to look up. There wasn't even a chimney. He looked back at Joyce. "There's nothing in here. This fireplace isn't even real. It's all a big fake out!" Xander stomped over to the chairs and plopped down in one, grunting in frustration. "Now what are we..." His grumbling turned into a cry of surprise when the chair he'd collapsed into reared backwards on two legs. Xander flailed his arms around to regain his balance and the chair slowly settled itself onto the floor.

"They don't even put quality furniture in their stupid, fake anterooms," he muttered, glancing up at Joyce to see if she'd noticed his less than graceful moment. That was when he saw a look of joy on her face. He followed her gaze, and his mouth dropped open in shock. The fire place had swung out from the wall, and behind it was a door.

"I guess that's what we're looking for," Joyce commented.

"Uh... yeah," Xander replied. Then he got himself together, and walked over to the door. It was unlocked. Not surprising, Xander thought, considering how well it was hidden. "Shall we?" He opened the door and walked through, followed by Joyce.

They stepped across the threshold into an institutionalized hallway that could have belonged in any hospital, lab or prison: tile floors, fluorescent lighting, and all.

Before they shut the door, they heard a small thud. They looked back to see that the fireplace had closed behind them. Xander leaned in to examine it, and saw a small button cleverly placed in an indention at about waist height. Satisfied that they could get out again, he let the other door close. Then he looked up and down the hallway, seeing nothing but more hallway and a few doors in either direction. This part of the Compound seemed deserted, too. Had everyone gone to the tribunal?

"So..." Xander glanced at Joyce. "Do you have a vote on which way we should go?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Doyle sat in his lonely cell staring up at the tiny glimmer of sunlight peeking through his tiny, barred window and trying not to listen to his growling stomach. Marcus and the guard had both come back with trays of food, but after what had happened to Sonya, there was no way Doyle was going to put any of that stuff in his mouth, much less swallow it.

He sighed. It seemed like he'd been in here an eternity since Sonya had been taken away. Lying in a featureless cell with no one for company but yourself made the time pass excruciatingly slowly. Compound that with his worry about Sonya, his fear for the Slayer and her friends, and even for Aidan, and Doyle was even more stir crazy.

"If only there was somethin' I could do, but no! Me only option is sittin' in this blasted cage like an overgrown rat," Doyle muttered to himself. Then he stopped and thought for a minute. "An' now I realize that I'm talkin' to meself in here. I think that's even more dangerous than the poisoned food! I gotta think o' somethin' to keep meself sane..."

Doyle thought for a minute, and then he came up with something, something that would keep him sane, and maybe even annoy the heck out of his captors.

The Irishman opened his mouth and suddenly began to sing at the top of his lungs.

"Ninety-nine bottles of ale on tha wall. Ninety-nine bottles of ale. Take one down. Pass 'er around. Ninety-eight bottles of ale on the wall! Ninety-eight bottles..."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Xander and Joyce hurried down the institutionalized corridor below the Compound. Xander had the feeling that time was slowly slipping away from them. It had been amazing luck that they hadn't been caught thus far -- a combination, he supposed, of sloppy guarding and the draw of the tribunal. But it seemed like this luck couldn't hold out forever.

They stopped outside every door they passed, and tried to find out what was inside. A few of the doors opened easily, revealing rooms that reminded Xander of examination rooms in a doctor's office. Other rooms were locked up tight, with no secret latches or moving chairs to get them inside.

"Look at that!" Joyce hissed suddenly.

Xander followed her pointed finger with his gaze and saw what had made her excited. The endless stretch of white wall had a big grey splotch on it -- a gray splotch that looked like some kind of door. He picked up his pace, and a few seconds later skidded to a stop in front of a thick, metal door. He stood up on his tiptoes and craned his neck to look in the tiny window in the door.

Joyce, who was shorter, asked frantically, "What do you see?"

"Just a second..." Xander squinted, trying to make something out in the dim lighting. After a moment, he saw a form laying on the floor by the wall. "Yeah, someone's in there. I think... yeah, it's Doyle."

As his eyes adjusted a little more, he could make out more details, including the fact that Doyle's mouth was moving. Xander strained, and thought he heard something odd.

"Seventy-seven bottles of ale on the wall..."

"I think he's singing," Xander said, dumbfounded.

"What about Sonya?" Joyce asked.

Xander looked around the little cell hopefully, but she wasn't there. He shook his head and dropped back down to look at the keypad next to the door. The little light bulb on the keypad was red.

"Damn it!" Xander muttered. "There's no way through that! We've gotten all this way, and we can't even open the door!"

Then he got an idea. After making sure there still wasn't anyone in the hallway, Xander banged on the metal door with his fist. To Joyce, he said, "Maybe we can at least talk to him. He might know something about Sonya, or the keypad."

It took some doing, but finally, the banging -- muffled through several layers of metal -- attracted Doyle's attention, and he walked over to the door. Doyle's face lit up when he recognized Xander peering through the little window.

"Hey, man! Are ye tha cavalry?"

"Only if you know how to unlock this door." Xander looked at Doyle hopefully.

Doyle's face fell. "No. I cannae even see the lock from this angle."

"Where's Sonya?" Xander asked. His heart sank when Doyle's face fell even further.

"I haven't a clue. She ate poisoned food and started spittin' up oceans o' blood. Then some goons in white coats took her away. They say she's all right, but they haven't been the most credible sources so far. Xander, man, does the Council know yer in here? Because, if they don't, I'm suggestin' ye get the hell outta here, now. Not that I wouldnae appreciate a rescue, but not if ye have to sacrifice yerself."

"We aren't leaving without you," Xander swore. "Let me just look at this lock..." He came down from his tiptoes and he and Joyce stared at the keypad. It had the traditional ten digits, and a green button in addition to the red light.

Joyce pointed to the keyhole in the door. "Look. We'd need a key, too. I don't think we can do this, Xander."

"Damn it!" Xander hit the door with his fist, wincing in pain. "We can't just leave him here!"

"Yes, ye can!" Doyle called from inside the cell. "Just tell the Slayer where the Council has me stashed, and maybe she or Giles can find the right keys. There's this blonde woman and this man called Marcus who keep comin' in to check on me. They must have keys..."

"Gwendolyn Post," Xander realized. Joyce nodded in agreement.

"That sounds like a better plan that trying to knock the door down with your fist," Joyce told him.

Then, a few meters down the hall, a door opened. Xander and Joyce froze in horror.

"Hey! You aren't supposed to be in here!" the man who came through the door called when he saw them.

"Doyle!" Xander called frantically. "Don't worry. Someone will be back for you!" Then he grabbed Joyce's hand and they started running back in the direction of the secret fireplace door.

Behind them, the man hit a button on the wall, and an alarm went off. Several more men joined him in the chase.

As they ran, Xander reached out for a cart someone had left against a wall. He turned it sideways and wedged it in a doorframe, stalling the men for a moment.

Xander could see Joyce's chest heaving as she struggled to keep up with him. Finally, they skidded to a halt by the door. As Joyce tried to open it, Xander realized that there was no way this would work. If they both ran through the fireplace, they could be cornered and trapped like rats in a basement cage. He looked back and saw their pursuers had gotten past the cart.

The door came open, and Xander pushed Joyce through. "Tell Giles and Buffy what happened," Xander told her. "And don't forget, Giles said if anything went wrong we were supposed to meet at the car."

"No!" Joyce protested. "We can make it!"

"I'll meet you at the car," Xander said. "I'll lead them another way." He shoved Joyce harder, and slammed the door behind her, leaving her -- he hoped -- no choice but to get back up to the first floor. He pulled out his boot knife and thrust the blade into the door mechanism. He must've hit something important, because something sparked and began to smoke. Satisfied that he'd bought Joyce a little time, Xander turned and began to run again. But he'd only gotten a few steps down the hall when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

Whirling, Xander grabbed the man's arm and used his momentum to flip the guy over his shoulder. Another white-coated Watcher came up. Xander gave him a jaw-cracking punch to the face, another solid punch to the stomach, and finished him off with a roundhouse kick, sending the man flying back into the wall. But they were coming too fast. Xander didn't have a minute to catch his breath or plan his next move between opponents. He saw one guy trying to open the jammed door. Xander lunged forward and tackled the guy football style, sending them both falling to the ground. Quickly gaining the upperhand, Xander rained punches down on the man's unprotected head. The lessons he'd learned as Pseudo-Slayer were coming in handy, and his training worked much better against normal humans than demons.

Another man grabbed Xander around the waist, pulling him off of the guy who'd tried to open the door. Xander twisted out of the man's grasp and lashed out with a viscous kick. His foot smashed into the man's face with a sickening crunch.

Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound and Xander dropped to the ground, running completely on instinct. He barely missed getting hit by a burst of flame. Rolling onto his back, Xander saw a young man with dark hair and glowing red eyes advancing on him. Flames crackled around the guy's fingertips. Xander scrambled to his feet and took a step back, deciding that this guy was something more than human. And therefore, unlike the Watchers, something he could kill without feeling guilty. Xander pulled his other knife out of the sheath he'd taped to his forearm and, without waiting for the flame guy to make his next more, threw it at the guy's heart with deadly accuracy. The blade twinkled in the fluorescent light as it spun through the air. It partially embedded itself in his chest and the man screamed. Xander lashed out with his foot, using his kick to push the knife in up to the hilt. The fire-wielder crumpled to the floor and Xander looked for his next opponent.

A man with silver-grey hair stepped forward and began to chant in some language that Xander didn't understand. A purple glow began to form around the magician. Xander had seen enough. Leaping straight up, his hands latched onto a pipe on the ceiling and Xander hung there for a second. Swinging back to gain some momentum, he then swung forward and kicked the guy with both feet, causing him to stop chanting and fall over backwards.

Xander dropped nimbly back to the ground. He stood up, turned around and found himself staring into the face of a young girl - she couldn't be more than 12 or 13 years old - with brilliant blue eyes. Suddenly, Xander felt himself unable to move, or even look away.

"That's it," Blue Eyes murmured in a soothing voice. "Be calm... Be still..."

The another pair of hands clamped down on Xander's shoulders. He felt a jolting pain, like electricity shooting through his body. Then he was falling. Xander lost consciousness before he hit the floor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Exercise court number six was the largest indoor court in the entire Compound. Buffy stepped through the door from the anteroom she'd been given to change in and looked up trepidaciously from the lowered floor of the court. Stands for onlookers made a raised semi-circle around half of the room. Buffy swallowed nervously as she looked them over. They were completely full. When those seatted in the stands spotted her, there was a smattering of applause. Buffy gave them a wan smile and continued to scour the area for the one person she wanted to see.

The three judges, still wearing their golden robes, had special seats right in the best line of sight. Buffy contemplated them for a minute. Gwendolyn sat expressionless, as usual. Proconsul Chamberlain had a small smile on his face as he cleaned his glasses with the sleeve of his robe. Aidan looked uncomfortable.

Buffy knew she would not see Xander or her mother there. They should have taken advantage of the movement to begin their clandestine survey of the mansion. But Giles had to be there somewhere. She kept looking, and then she finally found him. He and Wesley had seats on the end of a bench on the far right side of the semi-circle -- probably the worst seats in the house. She noticed that no one sat near them. Onlookers were crammed into every inch of seating except for the seats nearest to the members of the defense.

She sighed and suddenly wished the test would start all ready. Standing here and worrying wasn't doing her any good. Buffy hoped that once she was exerting herself her brain wouldn't have the time to dwell on things like Giles and his future, what her mother and boyfriend were doing or all the millions of eyes focused solely on her. Buffy clenched her fists tight, and felt the ring Xander had given her on her finger. She twisted it and felt a small gleam of comfort thinking of her boyfriend. Suddenly Buffy was happier than ever that they'd managed to patch up their relationship. Just knowing he was out there helped her state of mind a lot. She'd been forced to leave everything but her apparel in the anteroom, including all her weapons, so the ring was her only tangible link to home.

Then the proconsul stood and prepared to speak. The instant he took in a deep breath all conversations in the room dwindled to a hush. His voice carried easily throughout the room without the aid of a microphone.

"Marcus," he called, "bring out the cart."

A pair of doors behind her opened, and Marcus walked out, the hem of his robe flapping as he walked. He pushed a cart covered with a cloth.

"Buffy Summers," Chamberlain said, "choose your weapons wisely. You may choose any two on the cart. But only two. When you are done, the test will begin."

Marcus pulled off the cloth, and Buffy looked at the dazzling display of weapons. The blades on a sword, several knives in varying sizes, a battle axe and a smaller axe gleamed enticingly. There were the usual stakes, holy water and crosses. Her eye lingered on a huge crossbow with easy loading and several spare bolts. She picked up a mace to test its heft and then set it back down in its spot. On the bottom shelf were several longer weapons, including a bo staff and a wooden tipped spear. In the corner, she was surprised to notice a small revolver and something else that looked like a tazer.

Buffy looked at them all, wondering which would serve her best in the test. She knew she would have to fight, and she assumed she probably would be fighting vampires. Then again, Buffy knew that anything was possible. The Council might have brought in some random demon.

Thinking quickly, Buffy grabbed the stake with the best heft and stuck it in her waist band. It was the weapon she was most familiar with, and a stake through the heart would kill almost anything, though only vampires would poof away into dust. But choosing the second weapon proved more difficult. There were so many interesting choices. The crossbow was especially tempting.

"Ms. Summers, are you ready?" the proconsul prodded after a couple of minutes. She could tell her time for thought was almost up.

After a second more, Buffy grabbed a dagger and fastened the sheath straps around her leg. Looking up at Chamberlain, she announced, "Ready."

The proconsul nodded at Marcus, and the younger man took the cart and the cloth and exited the fighting area. Buffy looked around, noting the wooden walls scattered about the area. They'd obviously been brought in for this event.

(Sure) Buffy thought ironically. (Me going one-on-one against a vampire in an empty pit wouldn't have been any type of challenge. Let's give the vamp places to hide!)

She looked up again, and met the proconsul's smiling eyes. She tried to smile back, conscious of all the eyes on her. She wanted to project a confident facade.

"So, now what?" she asked, after a long pause.

"Now the test begins," Chamberlain replied. "Marcus. Open the cage."

The was a loud clanking noise, and Buffy looked around anxiously, waiting for something bad to spring out of nowhere. She had no idea where the cage was, or from which direction her opponent would come.

Buffy turned around, looking in all directions. She kept her weight on the balls of her feet, poised to run or to attack. But still nothing came. The seconds stretched by, and still nothing happened. Buffy could sense the crowd getting restless. What a show -- watching the Slayer just stand there!

Though wisdom said Buffy should wait for the fight to come to her, she got impatient. There were so many reasons to hurry -- she wanted to know about Joyce and Xander, she wanted to make the kill extra quickly so Giles would look good, she wanted to get out of the spotlight...

Buffy took a deep breath, and then started walking. The sound of the cage opening had seemed to come vaguely from her left, though the echoes in the cavernous room made it hard to tell. Gripping her stake in her right hand, Buffy moved to the left until she reached the first wall. There was no telling what was on the other side. She got as close to the wall as possible, and then sprang around the other side. Nothing.

"Hey, baby... lookin' fer me?"

The unexpected voice made Buffy look up. A vampire in a Led Zeppelin T-shirt was balanced on the top of the narrow wall. He grinned at her with a mouth full of fangs. Then he dropped down on top of her.

Buffy froze for a second, and then sprang out of the way, barely avoiding the vampire. He landed on his feet easily. Buffy took stock of him -- besides the T-shirt, he looked like a normal, old vampire. Though his cheeks looked a bit on the thin side, and he seemed even more pale than a normal vamp.

"C'mon, baby," Zeppelin said, feinting towards her and then pulling back. "I'm hungry, and you look so sweet."

"Peaches and cream, that's me," Buffy quipped, launching a kick at him. Her aim was true, and the vamp staggered back.

He roared and lunged for her, grabbing her around the waist. Buffy tried to avoid him, but he locked his hands around her with an immobile grip. Her stake went flying. Her struggles got her nowhere. So Buffy stopped struggling. The vampire looked up in surprise and in a lightning series of moves, Buffy head butted him and raised her knee into his stomach. Zeppelin grunted in pain and his grip loosened enough for Buffy to get out of it.

"Thought you could hold me, did you?" Buffy's grin of triumph turned into a shocked expression as she was grabbed from behind and thrown into another of the walls. Her head struck the wall with a crack that was audible all over the court. Buffy fought back the pain and opened her eyes to see Zeppelin advancing on her with a buddy in a red hat.

"I thought the Slayer was supposed to be tough," Red Hat commented with a growl. "We'll win our freedom easily."

"We got more of a challenge from the demon and the former Slayer," Zeppelin replied, laughing at the fallen Buffy.

Buffy didn't know what they were talking about and right now she really didn't care. She just wanted to get this whole thing over with as soon as possible. She lay still as they advanced. Buffy closed her eyes and kept watch through her lashes.

"I get the first bite," Zeppelin said, leaning down.

"Says who..." Red Hat started, but Buffy's fist in his face interrupted his comment. The vamp staggered back and Zeppelin looked at Buffy in shock.

"Ever heard of playing possum?" Buffy asked acerbically. Without waiting for an answer, Buffy pulled the dagger from its sheath and embedded it in Zeppelin's heart.

The vampire howled in pain, and then started to laugh. "You think simple steel can harm me?"

Red Hat came up behind her and pinioned her arms to her sides.

"Oh, I'm goin' to enjoy this more than anythin' I've eaten in a long time," Red Hat muttered. Zeppelin pulled the dagger out of his chest and began advancing again.

Buffy struggled, and managed to get one arm free. But she didn't have a good angle to punch with. Then she got an idea. She lifted the arm up and placed the back of her hand against Red Hat's cheek. Both vampires looked confused, then Red Hat started to scream. Zeppelin faltered back. Buffy pulled out of Red Hat's grip and in a series of complex flips landed next to her stake. She picked it up and smiled at the ring on her hand.

"Smart Xander," she said quietly. "He knew a cross would come in handy."

Furious, Red Hat lowered his head and charged straight at her.

"The direct approach," Buffy commented. "Interesting choice." She simply held out the stake and let Red Hat impale himself. "Saves me the work of actually fighting..." Then she turned her attention to Zeppelin.

"I ain't that stupid," he growled, lunging at her with the knife. The blade whistled by her, actually cutting off a small chunk of her hair.

Buffy raised her eyebrows at him. "Attacking the 'do! Now that was uncalled for!" She got a running start, and aimed a kick right at his knife hand. The blade went tumbling to the ground. Buffy landed easily, and grabbed his arm and smashed it over her knee. Then she stuck the stake in his chest.

"Oh, shi..." Zeppelin started to say, but he was interrupted when he exploded into dust. Buffy coughed a little bit as some of the disgusting substance flew into her nose. Her black sweat pants and gray T-shirt were coated with the mess. She breathed a deep sigh of relief, and pushed her sweaty hair back from her forehead.

That was when she heard the clapping. The audience of Watchers were all on their feet clapping for her. Buffy began to blush. Part of her was flattered. The people she owed (albeit in a round about way) for her training thought she was good. Another part of her was angry. No one had said anything about more than one vampire. It hadn't been a fair test! But she'd passed anyway.

"That'll show 'em," Buffy muttered. She smiled when her eyes landed on Giles. He was looking at her with an expression of pride on his face.

Then, suddenly, a man in a white coat ran up to the proconsul and began to whisper in his ear. Chamberlain's face went from friendly and mild to furious. The man gestured and two Watcher guards grabbed Giles by the arms.

"Hey!" Buffy shouted. "What the..." Then a hand clamped down on her arm. She looked up and saw Marcus.

"I know you can take me, Buffy," the young man said, "but if I were you, I'd just come with me quietly. We've got some questions to ask you and Mr. Giles about an attempted infiltration of areas of the Compound neither of you have the clearance for."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Joyce ran up the stairs and out into the entryway. There she was faced with a difficult decision -- try and find Buffy and Giles in what was bound to be a well-guarded area or go to the car. She couldn't hear the alarm any more, but Joyce was sure that "they" were looking for her now.

She edged toward the front door, deciding to go with the "meet at the car" scenario. Then she heard footsteps. Joyce crouched down between a table and a chair, hoping that no one would see her.

A man and a woman, obviously Watchers, came down the main stairs at a quick pace. They were talking to each other in clipped tones. Joyce strained to hear what they were saying.

"Is a full lockdown necessary?" the man asked.

"Yes, Daemon!" the woman replied. "Compound security has been compromised. Two of Mr. Giles's proteges managed to infiltrate the inner sanctum. We caught one of them, the Harris boy, but he managed to keep our operatives busy long enough for his accomplice to escape. And to top it off, he incapacitated two of our finest before they were able to stop him. Not to mention the number of security guards he took down."

The man, Daemon, gasped. "Are you saying that he fought some of our operatives successfully? But that's impossible. He's just a human!"

"Nothing is impossible."

Daemon glanced away in order to escape his female companion's steely gaze. When his eyes turned in her direction, Joyce scooted back further behind the chair and held her breath, hoping that they hadn't seen her. After a second, their conversation resumed and Joyce breathed a sigh of relief.

"What about the Slayer and Mr. Giles? They won't like it when they find out that we've abducted one of their own."

The woman sighed. "Yes, and we had hoped that the Slayer would prove to be cooperative. It would be much easier if she sided with us of her own free will. And she still might, but their actions have forced our hand."

"You mean..."

"Yes, we've already placed Miss Summers and Mr. Giles in protective custody. Now we just have to find the other woman."

Daemon looked at a file in his hand. "The Slayer's mother, according to this."

"Yes, once we find her..."

The voices trailed off as they turned a corner and walked out of earshot. But Joyce had heard enough. Once the coast was clear, she bolted out of the mansion and ran for the car. Apparently the lockdown hadn't been completed yet, or they thought she couldn't have gotten there so fast... No matter the reason, she made it to the car unaccosted.

Jumping inside the vehicle, she quickly stuck the key in the ignition and got the car started. Before anyone could see what she was doing and stop her from escaping, Joyce stomped down on the gas pedal and crashed the car through the gates of the compound, heading for the nearest road that would get her back to the hotel. She knew that she had to let the others know what was going on. As much as Joyce hated leaving Buffy and the others in there, she knew that the only way she'd be any good to them would be as a free agent. They needed back up. And it was up to her to get them some.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What've you got?"

"A two of hearts."

"A-ha!" Cordelia crowed triumphantly. "My 8 is higher. I win! Now it's your turn to tell me something truthful about your past, Oz."

"Tell me again who's idea it was to play this silly game?"

Cordelia scowled at the young man sitting across the table from her. "Don't you start with me, Oz. You were plenty happy to drag all the embarrassing details of my disastrous vacation in Kansas out of me when your card was higher." Cordelia's eyes narrowed. "And if *anyone* ever finds out about what happened while I was swimming alone in the pond with Patrick Goddard that summer, I will personally make sure that you die a thousand painful deaths!" Cordelia grinned wickedly.

Oz shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "What am I supposed to say?"

Cordelia shrugged. "I don't know. Um...," her eyes lit up as an idea struck her. "What if you tell me about your first love?"

Oz blanched. "No... pick something else."

"That's not the way the game works," Cordelia replied, wagging her finger at him. "I win, so I get to ask the question. And *you* have to answer it. You agreed to the rules yourself, and upheld them just fine when *I* was in the spotlight." She paused, and then added, "What can I say? Payback's a bitch! Now, tell me the story of your first love. And keep in mind, I want the whole story... who, what, when, where *and* why!"

Oz fiddled with the card in his hand as his mind flew back into a past that he'd rather forget. But he could never forget it. It had shaped the person he was today. He sighed and glanced at Cordelia. A few days ago if someone told him he would have to bare his soul to the society queen of Sunnydale High, he would have rather faced down a rogue vampire... with his cast on! But somehow, after spending two days alone with her, she didn't seem so bad. Pushy, yes. Bitchy, sometimes. Self-centered, also sometimes. But he'd seen the grief on her face when she hadn't known he was looking. She had more layers than met the eye.

He glanced down at the card again. And he was honor bound to tell his story. Honor might not mean much nowadays, but Oz was someone who took it seriously.

"All bands have groupies. Even the Dingoes. Devon cultivates them. I did the groupie thing for awhile, too. It was a rush... those girls hanging on your every riff, wanting you to autograph them in... uh... interesting places. But when I met her, all that stopped. She was one of them. The mystery groupie who listened to all the songs with her soul, not just her ears. She was older than me. She rode a sweet motorcycle. Devon was wild about it, but she never gave him the time of day. She had long blonde hair that waved down to her waist. I could wrap both of my hands in it when she wore it loose. This one night we had a thing. She was so intense. I wanted her forever, but she left without a word after. I got so angry that I tracked her down..."

His voice grated harshly and then trailed off. His eyes clouded with painful memories.

Cordelia looked at him, worry coloring her face. She'd never heard him sound so emotional. This was more than she'd bargained for. She debated what to do. On the one hand, she was extremely interested. This was more than she'd ever learned about the reticent guy before. On the other hand, she didn't want to make him relive something this painful. Cordelia had only wanted some juicy details of a first kiss or something.

Then again, on the other hand... er... foot, maybe he needed to talk about it. She wondered if he had ever talked about it, or if it had just been eating him up inside for all these years. Somehow, Cordelia got the vibe that he really needed to talk about it. Oprah had done that whole show on emotional wellness, and Cordelia figured that Oprah would tell the boy to let it out. But now he'd clamed up again. She stared at him as he sat in his chair just staring at the card in his hands with a frozen expression on his face. She wondered how to get him to tell her the rest of the story.

Finally, she prodded him by asking, "Oz... what was her name?"

Oz looked up. His haunted gaze made Cordelia wince. "Sky."

"Sky..." That name sounded so familiar. Cordelia's heart sank when she realized where she'd heard it before. "You don't mean Sky Tuesday... do you?"

Hearing her full name, Oz flinched. Cordelia could barely hear his reply. "Yeah."

"But she... she died." Cordelia bit her lip as more of the story came back to her. "It was a long time ago, but I heard she had a fight with her boyfriend, got upset and got in a wreck."

"That about covers it, except she didn't consider me her boyfriend, or so she said."

"When you found her, what did you say?" Cordelia questioned. He was claming up again, and intuition, and Oprah, told her that this was not compatible with emotional wellness.

"Sky was not a believer in commitment. She said what we had was great, but she couldn't be tied down... I'd never heard of that before. I thought if you loved someone, you committed. Then I realized that she was doing to me..."

"What you had done to the other groupies?" Cordelia saw from the expression on his face that she was right. She ached to hug him, or comfort him or something, but she didn't know what to do.

After a second, Oz continued talking, his voice rough with unshed tears. "I yelled at her. I still remember the words I used 'lying, no good, sleazy whore.' I even tried to give her money. I don't know what I thought that would prove... I'll never forget her face. She took off on her bike. I was pre-license, so I couldn't follow. The next thing I knew, I heard she was dead. She ran a stop sign and got flattened by a pickup..."

Cordelia blanched at the graphic description. She couldn't help herself. She jumped up from her chair and crouched next to Oz's chair. She almost hugged him, but she still felt awkward. She began to realize that emotional wellness was much messier in real life as opposed to in theory or on TV. There was no staff psychiatrist here to help -- Cordelia was all on her own, and afraid she was about to screw up, if she hadn't already. But she kept going anyway. There was no backing out now.

She laid a hand on Oz's arm and said, "You realize now, after all these years, that it wasn't your fault, right?"

He knocked her hand away from him like it burned his skin. His card fluttered to the ground, forgotten and his eyes blazed on hers full of anger and self-hatred. "I tried to tell myself that! I said, 'Oz, you've paid your guilt dues, and now you've got a new group of friends to help.' I thought it... and Sonya... were my reward -- Fate showing me that life goes on! But now I know I'm wrong. I got emotional again, and the girl was taken away. Sonya could be dead! I got emotional with Sky and she's gone, and here goes history repeating itself, just in case I didn't get it the first time." His voice quieted down to a murmur so low Cordelia could hardly hear it. "I never should have let any of you in... never should have gotten emotionally involved..."

"Daniel Osbourn!" Cordelia snapped suddenly, rising to her feet. "That is the biggest bunch of hogwash I've ever heard!"

Oz looked at her in surprise.

Cordelia didn't even take the time to think if this was what Oprah would do. She just said what was on her mind, tact be damned. If she'd had time to think, she might have second guessed herself, but the words were pouring out before she knew what she was doing.

"People don't die because someone is emotionally involved with them! If that was true, we'd all be dead! Or most of us anyway. And Fate isn't out to get you. Sure, we can all find a way to blame ourselves for things. You can say 'If I hadn't yelled at her, she wouldn't have gotten in the wreck.' But maybe her parents are saying, 'If we hadn't let her get a motorcycle...' And the truck driver is saying, 'If only I had looked both ways just a little bit longer...' And I can say, 'If only I hadn't invited the stupid vampires into the room then Doyle and Sonya would still be here...'"

Her chin started to tremble, and tears began to flow out of her eyes, leaving tracks of brown mascara on her cheeks. Turning away from Oz, she flung herself down on the bed and began to sob in earnest, letting loose the guilt she'd been harboring ever since the vampires had attacked her hotel room.

Then she felt a hand stroking her back. She looked up, and saw Oz standing there on one leg, holding his cast out to the side. Tears were coming out of his eyes, too. "Room for me to sit?"

Cordelia nodded, and sat up. Oz lowered himself down next to her. He leaned over to the bedside table and pulled two tissues out of the box. He handed one to Cordelia, and used the other himself. Cordelia began to scrub the mascara off of her cheeks.

"I don't blame you for Sonya and Doyle," Oz said after a minute.

Cordelia looked at him almost shyly. "Thanks. I guess I should learn to take my own medicine, huh?"

A tiny smile curved Oz's lips. "Maybe so." He paused for a second, and then said, "Thanks for making me talk about this, Cordelia. It's been inside me for a long time. I guess it needed to come out."

Cordelia gave him a brilliant smile. "Let's hear it for emotional wellness!" Oz gave her a confused look.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Having learned her lesson, Cordelia called, "Who's there?"

"Front desk," came the feminine reply.

Still cautious, Cordelia opened the door before she invited the person inside. It was a woman in a hotel uniform. She held out a sheaf of papers. "This fax came in for Mr. Rupert Giles from a Ms. Jenny Calendar in Sunnydale, California."

"I'll give it to him," Cordelia said, taking the papers and setting them on the table, oblivious of the cards strewn everywhere. The woman turned and began walking toward the elevator. Cordelia kept an eye on her, just in case.

When the elevator doors opened, Cordelia was surprised to see Joyce burst out of them, alone. Joyce ran down the hall and into the room. She was panting for breath.

"What's wrong?" Oz asked, immediately on the alert.

"Where's Buffy... and Xander and Giles?" Cordelia wanted to know as she shut the door.

After taking in a few gulps of air, Joyce said, "We've got to get our stuff and get out of here. It's not safe. I've got a good head start on them, but I don't know how much..."

"What happened?" Cordelia asked, worry filling her newly cleansed emotional palate. If Buffy the super hero was down, what would happen to them?

"No time," Joyce answered sharply. "Cordelia, start packing the bags in here, I'll go in the other room. Oz, call down to the desk and tell them to send bell hops. We're checking out."

"Where will we go?" Oz asked, already reaching for the telephone.

Joyce shook her head. "I have no idea."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sunnydale

The industrial part of town seemed deserted at this late hour, but Angel knew better. Abandoned factories and warehouses made the perfect hideouts for anything from homeless humans to renegade vampires and demons.

Angel glanced back at Terrance who was trailing along behind him. "You OK back there?"

Terrance glared at Angel. "I'm fine. I'm just covering your back. Standard operating procedure, or at least where I'm from."

"Whatever." Angel shrugged. He really didn't care what the annoying kid was doing, as long as he wasn't getting in Angel's way or slowing Angel down.

"So, how are we going to find this Kun'gi anyway?" Terrance demanded suddenly. "Are we just going to sweep this whole part of town? That could take hours with just the two of us. And there are a lot of places he could be hiding."

"I have a feeling that this is not the type of demon that hides," Angel replied, refusing to give Terrance the satisfaction of a glare. "Besides, I'm picking up an odd odor -- nothing like the normal Sunnydale demonic scents. I think I'm on the Kun'gi's trail."

Terrance didn't say anything. Angel didn't attempt to elicit a response. The two just continued walking a little bit faster.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"This is the most unorganized mission I've ever been on," Rio grumbled into the darkness. The three commandos stood in a dark alley in downtown Sunnydale. One of last night's "wild dog" attacks had taken place not far from the alley, so Faith had decided to try a stakeout.

Faith shot him a glare. "Shut up, Rio. There is a bit more to the Hellmouth than we thought at first. Things may not be running as usual, but it's at least 4-by-4."

Rio rolled his eyes at that comment, but kept his face averted from her so his commander couldn't see the disrespect.

"Faith," Nicole said suddenly, "I thought I saw a vampire go into that building over there." She pointed to a small bar and grill next door. "He had that undead look about him. I know we're supposed to be looking for ferals, but..."

"We can't let that go," Faith finished. "You're right." She glanced at Rio. "You stay here, and signal with the radio if you see anything suspicious." Nodding at Nicole, she added, "We'll go in and flush out that sucker."

Faith stepped out onto the sidewalk and missed the strange look Rio gave Nicole. She was almost at the door of the bar and grill when she paused to look at Nicole in the neon light of the sign. It could have been the bad lighting, but Nicole looked a bit pale. "Hey, Nick," Faith said with a flash of concern. "You all right? You look like you forgot to put on your makeup or something."

Nicole glanced at Faith quickly. "No. I am fine. I just didn't sleep very much last night. We were quite worried about you."

The mention of last night brought up memories and a guilt trip Faith did not want to deal with. She didn't know how to react to what had happened between her and Angel. He was a vampire. She was dedicated to the destruction of vampires. Sure, he had a soul, but it still seemed somehow wrong. Except for the moments when she was in his arms. Then it seemed more right than anyone she'd ever been with before. Faith didn't know what Angel thought about their night, either -- but judging from what she knew about him, the guy would either want to forget he'd ever had such a lapse in morals, or propose. And Faith was definitely not on the market in that serious sense.

When she'd seen him tonight, it had really freaked her out. She wasn't used to this. Normally, when she had a fling with a guy, she never saw him again. Usually, she never thought about them again, but for some reason she couldn't get Angel out of her head. It was weird! And there were so many other issues. If her superiors back in England found out she'd had a fling with a vampire... well, Faith knew the phrase "major hissy fit" would be an understatement. And she would have to call and report in soon. Faith was just glad she'd managed to avoid spending the whole night patrolling with Angel. She'd needed the time to get herself together. Unbidden, her mind flashed again to those sensuous hours in Angel's apartment. Even though she'd still been half smashed, Faith remembered the during part, and it gave her a delicious shiver. So many years on Earth had definitely given Angel an edge over human guys.

"Faith?"

The brunette realized Nicole was looking at her strangely.

"Are you all right?" Nicole asked.

"Let's go," Faith replied brusquely, pushing all thoughts of Angel out of her head to deal with later, much later. Then she walked past Nicole and into the building.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Angel paused in front of a door to an abandoned warehouse. "Typical," he muttered. "They all think we'll never find them in a place like this. If they really wanted to hide, they'd rent a room at the Motel 6. That's a place I'd never think to look for a demon."

"Are you sure this is the place?" Terrance asked, interrupting Angel's train of thought.

"Yes!" Angel couldn't keep the frustration out of his tone.

Obviously, the vampire's tone irritated Terrance. But then everything Angel did seemed to irritate Terrance.

"Do you have a plan, then?" Terrance asked. "Or shall we just barge in and ask the demon if he's killed anyone recently?"

Angel slid Terrance a telling glance, but only said, "Just stick to procedure and cover me."

With that, Angel reached out and opened the front door. Its hinges protested with a loud screech. Angel shook his head. So much for the silent approach! Then he strode into the building, ready for anything. Terrance followed a pace or two behind, his finger on the trigger of his crossbow.

"You realize this isn't a vampire, don't you?" Angel asked as he scanned the main building. His eyes landed on a pile of blankets and an old mattress in a corner. Some other things were scattered around as well. Mostly clothes. (The wardrobe of his victims, perhaps?) Angel wondered.

"Yes, well, being stabbed through the heart will kill many things," Terrance replied. He, too, looked around, waiting for something to happen.

Angel walked over to the mattress, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of the Kun'gi. Suddenly, Terrance shouted, "Duck!" and Angel heard the unmistakable sound of a crossbow firing. Angel ducked and then looked around to see a very angry Kun'gi demon with a crossbow bolt protruding from his shoulder. The Kun'gi growled low in his throat and lunged for Terrance.

The Englishman had succeeded in re-loading his weapon, but the Kun'gi batted it out of Terrance's hands. The crossbow went clattering across the floor. The demon punched Terrance in the face several times, bloodying the kid's nose and splitting his lip. Terrance struggled, but with the Kun'gi on top of him, there was nothing he could do physically to save himself. Angel ran to the struggling duo. He grabbed the Kun'gi by the collar of his Hawaiian shirt and pulled him off of Terrance just as a huge board the telekinetic had lifted crashed into the demon. Once he was free, Terrance immediately began moving for his crossbow.

Angel stared at the Kun'gi suddenly realizing that it was wearing clothing over it's green, slimy body. The tack horn protruding from the middle of its forehead was smaller than Angel might have thought. Angel realized that something odd was going on here. The Kun'gi stood up and brushed himself off, rubbing his head and glaring at Terrance. It growled and spouted some words at Angel in a language the vampire didn't understand, but it did not attack them again. Then Angel heard the sound of Terrance readying the crossbow to fire.

"Wait!" Angel said suddenly, throwing up a hand of caution in Terrance's direction. "There's something off here. Why isn't it attacking if it's a bloodthirsty demon?"

"Does it matter?" Terrance demanded, spitting blood onto the floor. "It's a demon, and all demons deserve to be sent back to Hell. Now, get out of my way, Angel." He aimed the crossbow at the Kun'gi, which stood directly behind Angel.

"Excuse me, but can you understand me now?"

Both men looked in shock at the demon in the loud Hawaiian shirt. The purples and oranges in the shirt clashed with the Kun'gi's skin tones. It had pulled the crossbow bolt out of its shoulder, and that part of the shirt was now stained greenish-yellow from the demon's blood.

When it saw that it had their attention, the Kun'gi began speaking again in perfectly comprehensible English. "You surprised me, and I forgot that you probably don't understand my native tongue. But I do know English. Now, will you please tell me why you attacked me unprovoked?"

"Because we destroy all the Hellmouth-spawned demons who murder the innocents of Sunnydale," Terrance replied, watching the Kun'gi through the site on his crossbow.

"I do believe you are mistaken," the demon replied. "I have not killed anyone. I'm just here on vacation. I wanted to see the Hellmouth with my own eyes, so I can tell my grandkids about it. I'm leaving tomorrow."

Making sure to stay in the path of the boy's weapon, Angel turned to the Kun'gi. "Several citizens of Sunnydale were killed last night, and it appeared to be the attack of a Kun'gi. Their life essence was sucked out of them, leaving them a black husk inside their clothing. Doesn't your tack horn do that?" It seemed odd to Angel that he was sitting here conversing in such a civilized manner with a demon, but stranger things had happened in Sunnydale.

The Kun'gi reached up and fingered his tack horn with what looked to be an expression of surprise on his face. "Yes, that is what happens when a Kun'gi uses its horn to drain another being's life force, but I certainly didn't do that. Some of my distant relatives devote themselves to a life of destruction, but I belong to a sect of Enlightened Kun'gi. We are pacifists. We don't even eat meat."

"Vegetarian demons?" Terrance said in a snide tone. "Get out of the way, Angel. He's trying to trick us. Let me take him down."

"No!" Angel barked, obeying his instincts and not moving an inch. To the Kun'gi, he said, "Could one of your relatives be in town killing people?"

The demon shook his head. "I'd be able to sense it if one of my brethren were here. But tack horns aren't the only thing that can suck the life essence in that way. There are spells and other demons who can do the same thing with similar results. And, I assure you, whoever killed those innocent people last night, it was not me." The Kun'gi stepped forward and extended a hand for Angel to shake. "My name is Roger, by the way. And you must be Angel, the vampire with a soul I've heard so much about in stories of the Hellmouth."

Before Angel could decide what to do, Roger had grabbed his hand, and suddenly a plethora of images pounded through Angel's brain. He saw everything that had happened on Roger's trip to Sunnydale, including a night visit to the high school library where the Hellmouth opened, Roger snapping pictures with a disposable camera, Roger at Willie's and more. The sequence ended with Roger being impaled by the crossbow bolt, and him attacking Terrance in self defense.

When Roger let go of Angel's hand, he gave the vampire an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about that. I know it must have been a shock, but I had to let you know the truth."

"How... how did you do that?" Angel asked.

"When my kind gave up killing, we worked on developing our less destructive, latent powers, including telepathy." Roger walked over to his mattress, thrust his clothes into a suitcase, and picked it up. "You know, I think I will go ahead and leave now. I've seen all of the Hellmouth that I need to."

"Don't move!" Terrance yelled, tracking the demon with his crossbow.

"Wait!" Angel yelled. "He's telling the truth!"

But Terrance wasn't listening. He had a clear shot, and let the bolt loose. Roger looked up in surprise. Angel dived toward the demon, knocking him out of the way. Roger's suitcase fell to the ground with a loud thump. The bolt embedded itself in Angel's chest. A huge, metal beam swooped toward Roger, but the demon ducked and sprang at Terrance before the boy could toss or shoot anything else at him. Roger punched the boy hard, knocking him unconscious. Then the Kun'gi turned back, expecting to see a huge pile of dust where the vampire had been.

But Angel was still there, moaning in pain. Roger hurried to help the vampire to his feet. "I thought the lad hit you."

"He did," Angel groaned. He pulled back his trench coat to reveal the crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest, right in the middle. "He missed the heart."

Roger gripped the end of the bolt and pulled it out in with one strong tug. Angel grunted, but once the wood was out of his body, he began to feel better and his preternatural healing factor kicked in. "Thanks. I guess I'm lucky he wasn't aiming at me."

Roger slanted a glance from the unconscious Terrance to Angel. "It may not seem like he was aiming at you, but..."

"What do you mean?" Angel asked when Roger's words trailed off.

After a second's hesitation, Roger answered, "Well, I just don't get good thoughts from him about you. That one is dark inside."

Angel shook his head. "No. The two of us don't get along because he can't get used to fighting with a vampire. He was trained to kill vampires, soul or not, and so our partnership irks him. But he wouldn't try to kill me on purpose."

Roger shrugged. "If you say so. I'm better at projecting than receiving telepathic images, and that one has strong barriers. But I'd look out for him if I were you, and anyone he associates with."

Then the demon picked up his suitcase, opened it and pulled out a notebook and a pen. "Can you do me one favor before I go? Give me an autograph for my little granddaughter? She will be so thrilled. The only one she'd like better is the Slayer's autograph, but I haven't seen Miss Summers around town."

Angel looked at Roger in surprise, but obligingly scribbled his signature on the proffered piece of paper. "You guys sure know a lot about what's going on over here."

Roger shrugged and put the paper back into his suitcase, shutting the bag with a loud snap. "Everyone has to have a hobby. We're Hellmouth groupies... what can I say? You all do good work, and it helps all of us non-violent demons." Roger turned and began walking out of the warehouse. "Thanks again, Angel. And good luck!"

Angel watched Roger leave, still reeling from the surrealness of it all. Then he walked over and scooped Terrance up into his arms and walked out of the building.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At the bar and grill, Faith and Nicole fanned out, searching the room for the suspected vampire. Faith perched on a barstool, scanning the other patrons with a practiced eye.

"Hey, baby. What's your sign?"

Faith looked at the originator of that lame come-on. He was a normal, though slightly drunk, human male. He had brown hair and a mustache. He wore slacks, a white shirt with several buttons undone and a jacket. A thick gold chain circled his thick neck and a matching bracelet circled his wrist. Faith lifted an eyebrow at him, wondering why such a sad looking specimen of a man would think he had any chance with her.

"Buzz off, man! I'm here on business," she told him unceremoniously.

"I bet I could make you ferget that business," the man replied with a leer as he ogled her breasts under the black spandex.

"Not interested." Faith gave him a not-so-gentle shove to the shoulder.

The guy frown at her, but took the hint and walked off toward the bathrooms in the back muttering, "Fine, I needed some air anyway."

Glad to be rid of the guy, Faith stood up and began a slow circuit of the building. Half of the place was a bar, and the other half was filled with tables of people having a very late dinner. Noise from several televisions filtered through the restaurant. Faith circled the place twice, but saw no one who could pass for a vampire.

"Nicole needs a refresher course in vamp spotting," Faith muttered, finally giving up and walking towards the door. As soon as her feet hit the sidewalk, she saw Rio standing out in the open. Faith strode over to him angrily and demanded, "What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be on surveillance!"

"I got worried, Faith! You were gone so long..." Rio glanced back at the alley, and then added, "I was about to come in and find you, Faith."

"Shh!" Faith hissed, grabbing him by the sleeve and hauling him back toward the alley. "Not so loud with the names, stealth boy! Is Nicole back yet?"

"No," Rio said in a surprised tone. "I thought she was in there with you tracking the vampire."

"There wasn't any vamp, at least not that I saw," Faith answered. "I thought she'd come back out here."

They rounded the corner and Faith caught a glimpse of a familiar strawberry blonde head crouched down over something Faith couldn't see.

"Nicole!" Rio exclaimed, rushing to her side. He gave her a hand up, and a flushed and sweating Nicole met Faith's eyes with an expression of regret covering something else, some kind of excitement.

"Report!" Faith ordered. She stepped forward and looked down. The commando leader's face didn't change when her eyes fell on the charred body laying on the alley floor at Nicole's feet. Faith had been schooled not to reveal any feelings, especially not to her subordinates. Then something shiny caught her eye. Faith stooped down for a better look and saw a thick, golden chain around the half-melted neck. A glance at the bracelet around the charred wrist confirmed the mystery body's identity.

Faith put a hand to her mouth to repress an involuntary gag reflex. She'd spoken to this guy no more than fifteen minutes ago, and now he was dead! Her eyes narrowed on the silent Nicole. "What happened?"

"It was the Kun'gi," Nicole said quickly. She pointed to the wall at the end of the alley. "I came out here looking for the vampire, and the Kun'gi was feeding off of this guy. I surprised him before he got done, but it was too strong. It pushed me down and vaulted over the wall before I could do anything."

Rio gripped Nicole's arm. "Then you came over here to see if he was alive?"

"Yes, but, as you can see, there's no way..."

"Are you all right?" Rio asked, examining her closely.

"Yes, I am fine. But the Kun'gi..."

"Is long gone by now!" Faith spat suddenly. She kicked a nearby trashcan, leaving a huge dent in its side. "And so is the vampire, I assume."

"Do you want me to... dispose of the body?" Nicole asked.

"She's right," Rio added. "What are the police going to do with another victim like this? Nothing helpful."

"They'll just get in our way, and ask questions about things they can't hope to handle," Nicole added, pushing strands of sweaty hair off of her forehead.

Faith agreed, and nodded her assent to Nicole. The fire-wielder extended her hands, and the body, and it's clothes, burst into flame. The magically-hot blaze lasted for a few seconds, and then Nicole dropped her hands and the flames extinguished themselves, leaving nothing behind of the man except a few molten hunks of gold.

"Come on," Faith snapped when the deed was done. "Let's go. There's more patroling to do."

"Aren't we going to report to the others about this new attack?" Rio asked, avoiding a look from Nicole.

Faith shook her head, still angry at herself for missing the attack. Maybe she could have done something, then Angel would have seen that she could handle a Kun'gi, but now the creature was long gone, someone else was dead and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Leave that up to me!" she ordered, her voice harsh. She didn't look at either of them. Faith wished she could just be alone, somewhere that she wouldn't have to deal with Nicole, Rio and all their questions and ideas. Then she started walking, and Nicole and Rio fell in behind her.

When they were long gone, something moved in the empty alley, also beating a quick retreat.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She stood before her mirror, knowing exactly what she would see there if she still had a reflection. Long, graceful limbs extending out of a white, flowing gown; a swan-like neck that had gotten many compliments in its day, revealed by white-blonde hair swept up in a crown on top of her head, a few loose curls framing her face; deep, indigo eyes that could see more than anyone suspected; sultry, red lips covering pearly teeth and the occasional fang. But the huge, beveled glass before her remained empty, making her wonder if she was really there at all.

Then a loud noise broke her concentration. She looked around to see her favorite pet loping into the room.

"Jaques," she said, rewarding the creature with a smile. "What have you learned for me, my dear one?"

Jaques the feral vampire walked up to his mistress and crouched at her feet. She put her hand on the top of his head and a golden glow enveloped them both. Her eyes widened and she laughed with delight.

The glow faded, and she gave Jaques his treat. As the feral lapped up the bowl of blood, she watched, the smile lingering on her crimson lips.

"Imagine that, Jaques. Who ever would have guessed? Now, the question is, how can I use this to my advantage?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As soon as they got out of the industrial area, Angel hailed a cab and thrust the unconscious Terrance inside. Then he leaned toward the driver and handed him a wad of cash and gave the man directions to the commandos' motel.

"If he's not awake by then, ask the manager what room he's in," Angel said. "The money should more than cover your extra trouble."

The driver's face brightened as he thumbed through the generous pile of bills. "No problem, man, but what happened to him?"

Angel glanced at Terrance, and an evil smile crossed his face. "His girlfriend really decked him hard. Messy breakup."

The driver looked a bit confused, but Angel didn't really care. He slammed the door, and watched the cab drive away. Then he began walking back toward his apartment. It was time to pack it in, but he might as well patrol on his way home.

As he walked, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the condo to check in one last time. When Jenny answered, he asked, "How did things go there? Were you able to get Giles what he needed?"

"Yes," Jenny said. "It took us awhile, but Amy and I finished everything. The fax went out just a few minutes ago."

"Have you heard anything from Faith's group?" Angel asked next.

"No," Jenny replied. "Did you find anything?"

"More questions than answers," Angel replied. Quickly, he summarized what had happened with Roger, then he said, "There is no way that Kun'gi killed those people. Can you do some research into what else could have done it?"

Jenny sighed. "I'll get on it, and hopefully have some answers by tomorrow night."

"I'll see you at the condo at sunset," Angel said, and then hung up.

The rest of his walk passed with no problems. He kept his eyes peeled for ferals, normal vampires or even the other commandos, but found nothing. When he got back to his apartment, Angel was glad. For reasons he didn't want to think about again, he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and bed looked pretty appealing. He unlocked his door and stepped inside.

Suddenly, he realized he wasn't alone. His enhanced senses picked up another presence. A familiar one. Angel reached out and flipped the light switch. Soft wattage illuminated the room without being too harsh on the eyes. He saw a form huddled in his bed, on top of his maroon bed spread.

"Faith?" he said incredulously, walking over and sitting down on the side of the bed.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. "I didn't have anywhere else to go." She sat up and started to swing her legs over the side of the bed.

Angel put his hand on her shoulder, keeping her next to him. "What's wrong?"

Faith turned her head away. "Something happened... I just had to get away."

"What happened?" Angel urged, wondering what had shaken the unflappable commando leader.

"Has there ever been anybody you couldn't save?" she asked abruptly.

"Of course," Angel replied automatically. "That happens to us all, sooner or later. It's hard, but nobody can be Superman all the time."

Faith sighed deeply, her breath shuddering in her chest. "I just..." A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Followed by another, and another.

Worried now, Angel moved closer to her on the bed. "Are you OK?"

She jerked out of his grasp. "I'm fine! Don't you pity me, Angel!" But there were still tears, no matter how many times her angry fist dashed them away.

Angel leaned over and stilled her hand. "I don't pity you. I just want to help..."

Faith turned to glare at him, and suddenly there were only inches between their faces. She put her hands on his shoulders to push him away, but then she grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him forward and kissed him. The kiss was hard and punishing, and even, Angel thought, somewhat desperate. But still arousing. It took him a minute, but then Angel finally managed to push her away.

"What are you doing, Faith?" he demanded.

"If you can't figure that out, then there really is no hope for you, Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud?" Her earlier expression had faded, leaving in its place a sultry half-smile.

Angel just looked at her for a minute, trying to figure out what was going on inside her head. But before he could come to any concrete conclusions, Faith leaned forward and kissed him again. This kiss was softer, more playful. She nipped his lip with her teeth and pulled back.

"You don't really want me to stop, do you?" Her fingers began to slowly unbutton his red silk shirt, pausing every now and then to slip under the soft fabric and glide over his exposed skin, sending chills down Angel's spine.

"Not really...," Angel murmured, "but..." Part of him protested that something more was going on here, but then Faith began pressing warm kisses down his chest as she tugged his shirt free of his belt and he lost his train of thought. Reining in his hormones as best he could, Angel tried one last time to get Faith to slow down. "But don't you think we should..."

"No," Faith replied simply. "I don't." Then she maneuvered herself so she was sitting on his lap and kissed him. Dropping his shirt on the floor next to the bed, Faith's fingers moved to Angel's belt buckle as her lips continued to duel with his. Angel gripped her shoulders firmly and pulled her closer to him, leaving the last of his reservations behind. As his fingers wound their way into her thick, mahogany hair, Angel promised himself with his last coherent thought that he would talk to Faith about what was bothering her later. (It can wait until the morning...)