While Angel grapples with the difficulties of working with Anya - especially since she technically doesn't even work for him, Buffy grapples with the difficulties of living under the same roof with Connor.
Earlier in the afternoon, before Wes, Gunn and Fred went out to search for the demon in Dawn's visions, Charles returned from Santa Barbara with Anya and Xander. Anya, wearing a cast on her lower left leg, uses crutches. Xander has a cast on his right arm that extends from his shoulder to his fingers. Wes and Fred come out into the center of the lobby to greet them. "Is there anything we can help with?," a sympathetic Fred inquires.
"No thanks," Xander responds with a smile. Fred smiles back. "We didn't come with our stuff."
"Would you like to sit down?"
"My legs aren't the problem."
"Mine are," Anya points out, though Fred is largely ignoring her. "But sitting down means having to stand up, which is more difficult than just staying up."
"No point exerting all that energy simply to get back where you started," Wesley says sympathetically. Fred touches Xander's prosthetic left hand with her right hand, and puts her left hand on the cast on his right arm.
"Look ma, no hands," he jokes. Fred finds it very brave of Xander to keep his sense of humor after such an ordeal.
"You did stand up to the two most powerful entities on the planet and live to tell about it." Fred offers. "How many people can say that?" Wesley glares at he. He stood up to the Beast. And to Mal, both of who could have given Seth and Nina a run for their money.
"I started off by standing up to them. I ended up on my knees, screaming, of course." Brave, funny, and self-deprecating.
"Let me help you to your room," Wes suggests to Anya.
"I get my own room! Finally, enduring unspeakable horrors is starting to pay off. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to share a bathroom with ten teenage girls? Actually, I hope you don't," she jokes to Wesley. "Elevators! How convenient." She looks around the lobby. "By the way, what's your current occupancy rate?" Wes and Anya get in one elevator. Xander and Fred get in the other.
Dawn wakes up after surgery and opens her eyes. It takes a few seconds for them to focus. Predictably, the first thing she sees is Connor. "Hello lover," she weakly says with a smile, preempting his usual greeting.
"His obsession is really beginning to creep me out," Kit says to Elijah.
"First you don't trust Connor because you think he'll be distant and might become unfaithful. Now you don't trust him because he's not distant enough."
"I trust him as much as I can trust someone I barely know, and someone Dawn barely knows. Literally, not metaphysically," she adds, anticipating Eli's comeback. "Don't give me this soul mates bullshit." Elijah stares at Kit with this wondrous and goofy half-grin on his face. "What?"
"I never knew cynicism could sound so sexy." She punches him in the shoulder.
"Stop trying to change the subject."
"I'm not. Connor's this wide-eyed dreamer who's looking for love and salvation and can't see the difference between them. Dawn makes him happy, and he makes her happy. You're afraid to get hurt, but don't like being alone. I make you happy, and you make me happy. That's all that matters. That's all anyone can expect."
"I am not afraid to get hurt," Kit grouses, folding her arms.
"You're afraid to be happy, which is the same thing."
"You just claimed that you made me happy."
"I do. But you'll never admit it."
"Get over yourself."
"I'm the same way. Thats why I dig you. Happiness is vapid and soulless and uninspiring. Happy people make my teeth hurt." Kit looks baffled. "I'm sure that last part makes sense on some level. Or, maybe not."
"Dawn's let Connor carry her off a cliff because he convinced her he can fly. I hate to think about how she'll be after the inevitable crash."
"The laws of gravity don't apply to relationships."
"Wanna bet?"
"Okay. Say you're right. How will we end?" Kit thinks that's a stupid question.
"Simple. You're going to college. I'm still in high school."
"Are we that much of a cliche?," he asks as they stand up and start walking towards where Dawn and Connor are.
"Deep down, everyone's a cliche."
"So much for individuality."
"I like to think we each become a cliche in our own unique way."
"One can always hope."
"Nothing," Wes reports to Angel at dusk.
"Zilch," Gunn confirms.
"Nada," Fred adds.
"That'll be two thousand, two hundred and fifty four dollars," Anya tells a family of five checking out twenty five feet from where Angel and his friends are standing.
"Is Anya gouging our guests?," Angel asks with alarm.
"Yes, we do take Discover," Anya tells the mother with a smile.
"We take credit cards?," Angel asks his friends.
"Lorne brought in a scanning machine on Monday," Fred reports.
"Thank you. Have a nice day," Anya says as they leave. Angel rushes over to her.
"First of all, what are you doing out of bed? Don't you have a broken leg and a severe stab wound?"
"Do you let injuries get in the way of your job? Just as there is no length you won't go to in order to save nubile, wide-eyed, virginal damsel, there is nothing short of death and/or dismemberment that can keep me from making money. For you. Though I do expect a cut at least equal to that of your partners." Angel takes a few seconds to recover from this rant. Anya's like a hyper-materialist Cordy on speed.
"Second, why are you extorting my guests?" Anya rolls her eyes.
"Go back to Cuba, Fidel. It's called free enterprise."
"Six nights. Two thousand dollars?"
"Do you know how much a two-room hotel suite goes for in this city?"
"We're not a hotel! We don't have room service. Or maid service."
"But you do have free kitchen and laundering facilities. Plus a free bar and cabaret. As well as a community center."
"Community center? It's just a big room in the basement where the teenagers hang out."
"Did you see our customers complaining? We start with a base of one hundred dollars for a room. Which is very generous. Suites start at 150. Plus fifty for each additional occupant over the age of twelve. Then you add the state sales tax, plus the local hospitality tax, which you were apparently thinking of evading entirely."
"These people are victims of a natural disaster."
"And they can stay at the government shelters for free if they want to. No one is forcing them to come here."
"Ah'm not really comfortable charging more than two hundred a night," Fred offers.
"According to our current partnership, even if we include Anya in the profit-sharing from this transaction, we each stand to make more than three hundred dollars from this transaction alone," Wesley reports.
Gunn smiles. "Keep up the good work," he tells Anya. "We're gonna get back to doing the life-saving thing." Gunn and Wes walk towards the office. Fred hesitates, then joins them.
"This is my hotel. What I say goes," Angel tells Anya, glaring down at her.
"You want me to refund the money, I can call up the credit card company and do it. But like I said, the people who paid this bill didn't complain." Angel ponders this for a few seconds, then reluctantly leaves, having failed to admonish Anya.
"This isn't good," he tells his friends, returning to demon-fighting.
"I for one think it's good that nobody's been attacked," Fred argues.
"They have. We just haven't noticed."
"The sun's about to set," Gunn reminds Angel. "You can get out there track the bad guys down."
"Me and Connor. Is he back yet?," Angel asks with mild annoyance.
"He should be," Fred replies. She opens the door. "Oh, look. There's Eli." She waves to her fellow nerd, who smiles and waves back. "And speak of the Devil. There's Connor." She gets nervous as Angel walks by her out into the lobby. "Not that I was comparing Connor to the . . . it's just a figure of speech," she adds defensively.
"Have you visited her?," Xander asks Buffy in her hotel room.
"I didn't want to go alone. I mean, without you. It would be - "
"Too hard. I got a feeling that's how everything's going to feel for a while."
"The service for Giles is tomorrow. Stella's handling everything. She's pretty broken up." Buffy wipes a tear from her right eye. "I don't know how I'm gonna look her in the face."
"Why?"
"Why? You know why. She probably blames me."
"That's crazy. Is this what you've been doing for the past day? Feeling guilty and blaming yourself?"
"Who else should I blame?"
"How about Nina? Or the First Evil?"
"Dawn."
"No, I definitely wouldn't blame her."
"Her surgery should have ended an hour ago. She's probably here by now."
Connor stays with Dawn as she uses her crutches to go down each step. "I'm okay, Connor," she assures him, a little annoyed by his doting. The cast on Dawn's right leg extends from six inches below her hips down to three inches above her ankle.
"Now we can get to work," Connor announces. Angel's glad that his son realizes that he's an important member of the team. "Dawn's finally here." Angel and his friends all look a tad confused.
"Welcome to the Hyperion," Anya says as if Dawn's just another customer. "Would you like to hear our very reasonable rates?" Dawn looks surly. "Of course you don't! Still, might I suggest your own room in addition to his? Sometimes it's fun to have variety. Like when Xander and I did it in the living room or the kitchen." Now Angel looks surly. The elevator door opens.
"Buffy!," Dawn exclaims, looking happy to see her sister again. They hop on their respective crutches towards one another. Anya takes out hers and joins them.
"Look. We're all lame!" The sisters don't appreciate the gesture. Anya goes back behind the desk. "That's what I get for trying to empathize," she mutters under her breath.
"How long's that on for?," Dawn asks Buffy.
"Three days. And you?"
"Three months."
"At least you'll be safe." Buffy swings her right crutch backwards into Xander's chest, but can't make contact because of the mystical barrier.
"Cool!," Dawn replies with a smile. "How'd you pull that off?," she asks Connor.
"I didn't. Angel did." Buffy and Dawn look at Angel. He looks nervous. This isn't the sort of thing you want to reveal to Buffy.
"Oh!," Buffy realizes. "Those Furious Sluts." Angel's shocked to find out that she knows.
"The Transuding Furies," Wesley corrects.
"With Spike," Dawn recalls. Then she glances at Connor and realizes he probably does not want to hear about his father and Spike having an orgy with three demigods. "The, the trials of strength and bravery the Furies put them through."
"Spike?," Fred asks. "Oh." She looks worried, and a tad disgusted.
"How's the work on my vision going?," Dawn asks.
"We've followed several leads, researched possible suspects, reconnaitored the area - " Wesley rambles.
"We've got nothing," Gunn concedes.
"I can draw you a picture of the thing."
"Lorne thinks he knows what it is," Fred explains.
"Good. I'm pretty woozy, so I probably wouldn't be much help."
"Connor," Angel calls out as his son walks away with Dawn towards the elevator. "We need to talk about working on finding this sea monster. You know, hunting," he says, trying to appeal to his son by speaking his language. "And saving lives."
"I'll be down in a couple." He steps into the elevator, and the door closes. To his right his Dawn. To her right is Buffy. Connor hadn't noticed her. This is an awkward situation for both of them. Dawn anxiously looks left and right, fearing that she'll get figuratively torn in half. "You were, you were umm, you were very brave yesterday," Connor finally offers. "That's what the, umm, the new Slayers told me. And very heroic."
"Oh. Thanks," Buffy mutters. She can't think of any reason to return the compliment. The door opens on the third floor.
"This is your floor?," Dawn asks. Buffy had pushed four. "I'll be right up in a sec," Dawn promises Buffy.
"No. I should probably see your new digs. So that I know where to find you," Buffy adds ruefully. The three of them step out into the hallway. Buffy keeps up with Connor, but Dawn trails behind.
"Let me help," Connor says, putting his right arm under her knees and picking her up.
"Stop! Put me down. Connor, I can take care of myself." He does as told.
"Sorry. Just trying to help." Buffy duly notes Connor's overbearing ways, and how they annoy Dawn. She's not so much trying to take Dawn away from Connor as she is trying to keep Connor from taking Dawn away from her, since that's what Buffy believes his ultimate goal is. They head down the hall and open the door. "Home sweet home," Connor announces. Buffy peaks her head in.
"It's a little small," Buffy comments.
"I put my clothes in the drawers," Connor explains to Dawn. "There weren't many, but I thought you should have the whole closet for your stuff." Buffy enters and takes a look around.
"It's a little messy. The bathroom could use some cleaning up." Dawn realizes Buffy not just trying to play the part of mom. She's trying to turn into mom. "That's a nice tv. Did Angel buy that for you?"
"No. Umm, it's mine."
"How'd you afford it?"
"I work."
"Patrolling. Hunting."
"Yeah."
"Same here. But I never seem to pick up any expensive merchandise."
"Buffy I'll, I'll talk to you in minute. I just wanna speak to Connor real quick before he goes off on that job with Angel. Then we can, have dinner, or hang out, or whatever you want." Dawn takes a deep breath. It's tough enough to play ambassador between these two on a normal day, let alone right after major surgery.
"Sure. I'll be right outside." She glares at Connor and leaves. Connor glares back. The door closes.
"I'm not a zebra!," Dawn yells, apropos of nothing.
"What?"
"The two of you are fighting over me like two lions over a zebra carcass. It's really insulting."
"I didn't touch her."
"Well, you're still fighting."
"She started it."
"Oh, grow up!"
"Like that whole thing about the tv. And this place not being clean."
"She's worried about me moving in with a boy. Especially one who doesn't like her and tried to kill her."
"I said I was sorry about that."
"I'm sixteen."
"Seventeen in five days."
"You remembered my birthday," she responds with a smile before getting serious again. "She's dealing with a lot. Giles dying. Willow in a coma. Be nice. And please don't gloat because I'm with you instead of her." Dawn falls on the bed and breathes a sigh of relief, putting down the crutches and resting her tired shoulders. "Because I will hit you with these things," she threatens, taking the bottom end of one crutch in her hand.
"It's wood. With padding. How could that hurt?," he asks, walking towards her on the right side of the bed. She swings it up towards his crotch. He pulls his legs together and winces.
"You had to ask," she replies with a smile. He backs up to the far end of the bed.
"Whadya think?"
"It could use a woman's touch. Or, mine," she adds jokingly, hiding her anxiety about shacking up, which Connor clearly sees as quasi-matrimonial. Connor lies on the bed to Dawn's left.
"You need anything? Food, or -?"
"I'm not very hungry."
"Are you in pain?"
"No. The local hasn't worn off yet."
"How bout your stomach?"
"That doesn't hurt. As long as nobody touches it," she warns as he slowly lifts up her shirt to have a look.
"You want some soup?"
"Connor, I'm fine," she says sternly. Then Dawn chuckles. "I thought I'd be the one taking care of you."
"So did I. Not that I want you to, or that I can't take care of myself."
"It's clear you can."
"But I've been pretty messed up."
"Because of Mal."
"And Angelus before that. It's been kind of quiet this week."
"Knock on wood."
"Huh? Oh." He vaguely understands the phrase. "Is there anything you wanna watch?"
"Connor!"
"Just trying to - "
"Help. I know. Right now I just wanna be able to wiggle my toes again. Which is something you can't help me with."
"It is?" He takes off her right shoe and her sock.
"Ahhh. That's actually better. My foot can breathe again. I just can't move it."
"Is it still numb?" He tickles the sole of her foot.
"A little. I can feel that. Stop it."
"It tickles?"
"No. Just feels kinda scratchy." He wiggles her big toe. She giggles.
"Can you feel this?," he asks before leaning down to suck her toe.
"Yes!," she replies with a laugh. Buffy opens the door, walks in and immediately cringes and averts her gaze. "Buffy?" Connor stands up.
"Sorry. You said a minute. It's been three. And Angel said he wanted Connor downstairs." Connor immediately leaves. Buffy takes two hops to her right so they don't cross paths. Both of them avoid eye contact, and strain not to scowl or show any other sign of overt hostility. Buffy closes the door.
"Sorry about that," Dawn meekly confesses. "He was seeing if I could - "
"Don't. Please don't."
"He's really trying to be nice. Or, at least civil."
"Look. I more-than-vaguely recall mom being uncomfortable around more than one of my boyfriends."
"More than one?"
"She never quite warmed up to Riley. God!," Buffy exclaims with a laugh. "What do you think mom would have said about you and Connor?"
"What do you think she would have said about you and Spike?"
"That's not fair."
"Why not?"
"I never paraded Spike around, or got all smoochy-feely with him in front of others. Except that one time, and that was because of Willow's love spell."
"It's not like I haven't thought about it. Sure, she freak. For a little while. But I think mom and Connor would have really gotten along great. If she didn't know about his parents, and only knew him as a person." Buffy just stares at her sister. "I'm serious!"
"I know you are. That's what worries me."
Panthesilea talks to Ulla as the sun sets. They both smile. Penny puts a flower in Ulla's hair, then moves her right hand down Ulla's left arm, playfully gripping Ulla's index finger between her thumb and index finger before letting go. Ulla walks off with the other priestesses. Panthesilea jogs towards Groo's tent. He stands outside, having watched Penny carry on with Ulla. "How's my god-king doing today?," Panthesilea asks with a note of condescension. Panthesilea is one of the few people who can make "god-king" sound condescending.
"Your appetites — for killing and conquest — are like a man's." Penny calmy stares at Groo for a few seconds, then pulls out a dagger. He's not scared.
"In your world, do only men have ambition?," she asks, jabbing the point into his chest and causing Groo to back up. "Do only men seek greatness? I've heard this my whole life. Usually from male prisoners I've taken in battle. Right before I sell them into slavery. I don't kill and love like a man. I kill and I love better than a man. And for that, men are jealous of me." She puts away the knife and places her hands on Groo's chest. "But you. So mighty, and strong, and noble. I would think you were above jealousy." She backs up a step, sucks in her cheeks and grins in that sallow, malevolent, yet seductive way Spike sometimes does. Groo tries to sort through her proto-feminist rhetoric about double standards. He's certainly known strong women. But none as self-centered as Panthesilea. She seems to live by Faith's pre-homicidal philosophy of "Want-Take," except she enjoys stature and influence Faith couldn't even dream of.
"You have such immense power. Why not use it to help people?"
"I do," she replies insouciantly. "I help my tribe. I help my allies. I help bring bloody justice to this forsaken bloody planet, as Spike used to say. He taught me the importance of helping people." Groo interprets "bloody justice" not as an English turn-of-phrase, but as a literal description of how she brings "justice."
"Did not Angel teach you anything?"
"Sure! Angel taught me that girls like guys with muscles and shiny clothes who feel sorry for themselves." She's still Spike's girl. "You seem to have two out of three," Penny says with a grin as she pushes Groo into his tent. To him, she looks more predatory than amorous. "Your clothes aren't too shiny." Groo tries to figure out if she views him as an Angel substitute. He's not about to go down that road again.
"You were drawn to Angel?" She backs up, thinks this over and laughs.
"Not even. But I am drawn to you." Groo smiles. He appreciates that she's the first woman he's slept with who finds him hotter than Angel. Penny puts her hands on his shoulders, then squeezes his biceps. "He has the body of an athlete. You have the body of a warrior. You know what it's like to hunt your dinner, make your own fire and sleep under the stars. Like me." She kisses him. After a few seconds, Groo moves his head back.
"But you do not love me."
"I'll love your daughter." She slowly takes Groo's right hand in her left, intertwining her fingers with his. Suddenly, she puts her right arm under his shoulder and abruptly throws him onto the bed. She does a back flip and lands on her knees, which straddle his hips. She's trying to remind him that he's an extremely lucky man who shouldn't be asking questions or harboring doubts right now. Groo takes a deep breath. He's beginning to understand this. "Isn't that enough?" Penny takes off her belt, sword, dagger, crown, earrings, necklace, bracelets, and finally her dress.
"No. But this is," he replies as he gazes up at her. She smiles and rips open his shirt.
"You ruined my only shirt?"
"You're a king, Groo. You can get more. As for me," she says as she slowly lowers her body on top of his, "I'm one of a kind."
"That, I will not argue with."