"I don't trust someone who doesn't have any enemies. If you're a good person, some people will hate you."

Angel angrily paces in the lobby, flanked by Wes, Gunn, Fred and Buffy, with Connor and Dawn off to the side. They can hear the rumble of the music downstairs. "I can't let him get away. That scumbag crossed a line."

"What did this guy do to you?," Buffy wonders.

"He's evil."

"This may be news to you, but I also come across a lot of evil people," she says sarcastically. "And they don't get me this upset unless they've done something especially bad, like go after my family or make me feel like a victim."

"He does not make me feel like a victim," Angel snorts.

"Then what is it?"

Angel pauses. He looks at his friends, who already know. "It's what he did to you. Or didn't do."

"He was involved with the First?"

"He offered to help. He was going to give me a powerful object that could kill demons. If I killed a ten year-old girl. It might have helped. Maybe it could have saved a few lives."

"And you feel guilty for not killing this girl?"

"Of course not!"

"So you're mad at this lawyer for not offering more reasonable terms?"

"Not really. He's evil, after all. What could I expect?"

"You're mad that he played you."

"He didn't play' me."

"Yes he did. He sprung a guilt trap."

"That's not what happened," Angel argues defensively. He's not used to Buffy playing the role of teacher. "He didn't want the world to end - at that particular moment. He knew that I didn't. He knew how much I cared about you. And he wanted to see how far I would go to help you."

"Like an ethical Fear Factor," Dawn offers.

"He knew you couldn't turn down the chance to hear him out," Buffy continues. "He knew you'd have to refuse the offer. He knew you'd feel guilty afterwards."

"You're forgetting something," Angel points out. "He would have also had to have complete confidence in you. Because if you lost, he lost, and he'd feel really guilty for refusing to help you."

"He had more faith in Buffy than you did?," Connor asks his dad, seriously upsetting Angel.

"Or you," Dawn reminds Connor. They both wanted to stay and fight Nina. Angel can't believe he crafted an argument that made Clayton look good.

"We're wasting time," Angel declares. "He's out of the hotel, which means he's fair game."

"Not necessarily," Kit's father objects as he rushes down the stairs with his daughter. "He's with an Omni."

"An omniscient?," Wesley asks.

"What's that?," Fred wonders.

"The ultimate in magical defense," Kit's dad replies.

"Who are you?," Angel wonders, not used to hotel guests joining their strategy sessions.

"Angel, this is Christopher Holburn," Wes explains. "He is Kit's father. And a warlock." Angel looks at Kit, then at Dawn, then at Christopher. His son's girlfriend's best friend's father was a warlock. That couldn't be good. He'd never met a good warlock.

"Therapist. And career counselor," Christopher offers. "I haven't practiced in a long time."

"Practiced . . . magic?," Fred asks. The term sounded so professional.

"Yes. I felt her scan me tonight. So did Kit."

"Kit's a witch?," Angel asks nervously.

"No, I'm - " Kit replies before being cut off by her father, who appears angered by the question.

"She's never practiced. But she can't help possessing certain powers, which an Omni would read, in order to gauge any possible local threats."

"I still don't know what an Omni is," Buffy points out. "And, by the way, nice to meet you Mister Holburn."

"You too." They shake hands. "Kit's told me so many wonderful things about you."

"I'm honored." Angel's peeved that Buffy doesn't share his suspicions.

"Omnis are magically-gifted women who are highly sensitive to their immediate surroundings," Wesley explains, explaining nothing. Christopher sighs and fills in the details.

"Omnis can sense any gathering magical or demonic danger within a limited radius."

"Like this hotel?," Connor asks.

"Or a high-rise office building?," Angel adds, recalling his utter inability to surprise Clay.

"Yes. Which makes them very desirable for white-collar malefactors. They're mute and hairless, which make them easily discoverable. They communicate telepathically." Fred and Angel recall Mona doing this to them on Tuesday night. "And if they touch you, they can briefly control your mind. Omnis have a very short life span, dying five to ten years after they start using their powers. The human brain can handle the load for only so long."

"So the singing lawyer hides behind his girl," Gunn notes, mildly upsetting Angel, who's been known to do the same thing.

"We have to do something," Buffy declares. "We can't just wait for someone that powerful to try a spell that destroys us."

"She can't," Christopher assures them. "They're strictly defensive, with no remote capabilities. You're safe so long as you're not in the same room with her."

"And he's safe so long as he is," Angel infers.

"I suppose you could shoot him, if it means that much to you," Christopher casually quips before beginning to walk upstairs.

"Uh Dad, I was going to see Elijah. I left him without an explanation."

"Okay," her dad grudgingly replies after a few seconds' pause. He goes up to their room. She goes down to the basement.

"That was weird," Buffy observes. "It was weird, right?," she asks, not knowing what's been going on here the past week. Fred nods.

"Connor, you didn't tell me your friend was a witch."

"She's not," he tells his father.

"He dad's very strict about her not using her powers at all," Dawn explains. "On account of the fact that Kit's mom died from abusing magic." She hoped this would build sympathy and understanding.

"Both her parents?," Angel asks, mildly alarmed. "So she can wreak some serious damage."

"Yeah dad. She's a real destroyer," Connor quips, his retort dripping with angry sarcasm.

"Does that blonde kid have any powers or discipline problems I should know about?"

"Elijah's harmless," Dawn argues, angered by Angel's suspicion of her best friend Kit. He thinks he's just being a concerned father. The last thing Connor needs are friends who can augment his already substantial power. "He couldn't hurt anyone even if he wanted to. Which he doesn't." Angel's not so sure. He's been suspicious of Eli since the moment they met.

"I've seen his permanent record," Buffy assures Angel. "It's spotless."

"What about Kit?" Buffy looks nervous.

"It's . . . not as big as mine."

"But yours were all misunderstandings."

"Kit's not a trouble-maker," Dawn states. "Otherwise Buffy wouldn't have told me to hang out with her on the first day of school." He glares at Buffy.

"They were nearly killed. Safety in numbers."

"Hate to interrupt, but ain't we getting way off track?," Gunn points out.

"Good point," Angel concedes. "We have to focus on the problem at hand, which is Wolfram & Hart's new star lawyer."

"I suggest we research the man before doing anything rash," Wes proposes.

"I'll go see what I can find online," Dawn says, hopping towards the office.

"That was my line," Fred half-pouts.

"You can help me," Dawn offers, upsetting Fred by the boldness of her usurpation.

"Connor met this guy on the streets," Gunn recalls.

"What did he say to you?," Angel inquires, convinced that Connor's hiding something.

"Nothing, really. He killed a vampire."

"With you?"

"By himself. I killed my own."

"So he can fight," Gunn realizes. Angel scoffs.

"He was showing off. You know, like when you keep pounding after you could stake it just to show how tough you are."

"I did that once or twice," Buffy notes. "Same with Faith. But we're Slayers. Kind of strange for a normal guy to take that risk."

"If this guy likes to brawl on the streets, he's gonna have a rep," Gunn explains. "How many tough guys wear a blonde ponytail?"

"He's not tough," Angel retorts. "That's why he has his girlfriend."

"Point is, he'll stand out. I'm thinking of asking around, see what the word is on him."

"I should probably work some of my demon sources, see what they know," Angel suggests. "That leaves Wesley. And Connor." Even now, pairing them together is painful for Angel.

"Actually, I was thinking of taking some of the Slayers on a patrol."

"They're still recovering," Buffy retorts.

"Several of the girls have expressed an interest in getting back out into the field."

"They didn't mention anything to me." It's a heinous reversal of the way things once were, with Wesley in the know and Buffy on the outside looking in.

"Because you won't be out in the field until Monday." Buffy hated being reminded of her injury.

"You do a lot of hunting?," Connor asks Wes.

"Pardon?"

"Maybe I should go out with you and the Slayers." Dawn hops out of the office.

"I'm sorry, Connor. Did you say you're going out with the Slayers?"

"Out hunting," he replies, walking over to her. "What's the harm in letting them tag along?" Buffy seethes. Slayers don't "tag along," especially after the likes of Connor. "You doing research, right?"

"Yeah. Wait. There's something I need." She reaches her right hand into Connor's back left pocket and pulls out Clay's business card. He smiles. Buffy and Angel avert their eyes. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

Ariella and Rona are eager to get out, though Madari hesitates for a few minutes before leaving Prashant. Once they get outside, the first thing the teenagers do is try to ditch the adult. "I'm your Watcher," Wesley reminds them.

"This ain't Sunnydale," Rona retorts. The girls are definitely getting rebellious. It seems that Annette's warnings were prescient. "We don't stand around graveyards, or walk a couple blocks of an excuse for a downtown. We have to cover lots of ground and, no offense, we're not sure if you can keep up."

"You or any other man," Ella adds. "Don't take this personally."

"I have my motorcycle."

"Too noisy," Connor explains.

"This isn't your decision." He suspects Connor encouraged the girls to ditch him, and they're just following his lead.

"Maybe some other time," Madari offers.

Wesley relents, knowing it's pointless to resist. "Very well. Report back when you return." He realizes he might be reverting to Old Wesley mode. "Or tomorrow afternoon. When we'll train." The girls smile. They like the chance training offers to test their new abilities. Wesley wishes he could talk to Giles about handling willful Slayers. He's afraid to talk to Claude Marcel, since he might view Wesley's concerns as a sign of weakness. He still doesn't trust Claude. Alas, Claude faces similar difficulties. And they aren't even with a Slayer.

"Over my dead body!," he yells in French to his daughter.

"That is what I am trying to avoid."

He laughs at the notion that she's tougher than him. "You are a child."

"I'm eighteen!"

"My father didn't let me fight vampires on my own until I was twenty two."

"Children grow up faster these days."

"This city has Slayers, a vampire Champion, and a vampire offspring. It does not need you."

"Why kind of vampire would attack any of them?"

"A hungry one."

"A stupid one. They're probably all dead by now."

"New ones arrive every day. This city has an abundance of two things: unemployed actors and brainless vampires."

"What do you know about Los Angeles?"

"I know that it is the most dangerous city in North America."

"What about Detroit?"

"For vampire and demon attacks. Not to mention abductions. You're not careful, you could get carted off to another world. This is the only major city with more portals than subway stops."

"The twin evils of dangerous demons and poor public transportation," she jokes.

"I'm not letting you out of this hotel room." She sighs and rolls her eyes.

"Try to stay out of sight."

"Not to worry. This doddering old man won't slow you down."

Connor finds West Hollywood suspiciously devoid of vampires. "I thought you said this was a dangerous place," Ariella complains. Having grown up in the Occupied Territories, she knows a thing or two about dangerous locales.

"It usually is. Especially on a Saturday night."

"Let's hit the clubs," Rona suggests. "To look for vampires," she assures the other girls, so that they don't think she just wants to party.

"We should check the docks. Plenty of vampires hiding down there." Connor's hoping he can make a big killing. Now that he has three Slayers backing him up, he can go after large nests he couldn't handle on his own.

"We're miles from the shore," Rona reminds him.

"I know. We take the bus." Connor looks at the number on an approaching bus. "I think that one goes near there." As the bus passes by, he leaps on the back and climbs on the roof. "Come on!" The Slayers just stand there.

"How long has he been on Earth?," Ariella asks.

"Back home, people do that on trains," Madari notes. "But never on lorries."

"I say we join him," Rona proposes. The other two looked shocked. "Inside the bus." They use their Slayer speed to catch up with the bus even though it's three blocks ahead, which is pretty thrilling. Then they pay the fare and climb in.

"Wimps," Connor jokes to himself.

Fred sees Wesley enter the courtyard. "What are you doing back so soon?"

"They said I would only slow them down. Why aren't you researching?"

"It's a one-person job."

"And that person isn't you?"

"Dawn's pretty focused on this one, since he propositioned her boyfriend in a dark alley. That might have come out wrong."

"I can see how she'd take a personal interest. If someone nefarious was meddling with a woman I cared deeply about - " He pauses, as does she.

"Wanna go grab a bite to eat?"

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry." He leaves for home. Fred's floored by his inability to take a hint.

"Charlie Gunn!"

"Darnell!" They hug. Darnell has two young men behind him. "This your crew?"

"What's left of it." The both pause and look at the ground, recalling when Mal killed twenty men in less than a minute.

"He ain't coming back."

"Let's hope."

"We killed him."

"Naw." Darnell shakes his head.

"Word. I saw him die."

"I saw him kill. Dude's indestructible."

"Believe what you want. He's gone."

"So what brings you to our side of town?"

"There's a guy, a wannabe baller named Clayton Jenkins. You heard?"

"Clay? White dude with long hair?"

"So you've met."

"Bout a week ago, he worked out a deal with some landlords, got us all places to live. For free! Plus he bought us some phat weapons."

"He's your patron?," Gunn asks with concern.

"He's a player. Gang-bangers all know him by name. I hear the big ones are his clients."

"And you trust him?"

"Hell no! It ain't like we're tight. He did us some favors, gave us some gear, and that was that. What would you have done?"

"Wow . . . wow . . . I need another drink." Carrie finishes her cosmo. "Those are some very interesting dating stories, Cordelia."

"Stories?," Cordy asks with a mischievous smile, enjoying this attempt to blow a neophyte's mind.

"You have a very vivid imagination."

"I didn't make those up. If I did, I'd be a writer. And, no offense, but I'd probably make more money that you."

"Undoubtedly." She downs another drink. "You're saying the relationships are real, and you've just embellished them with the use of metaphor? Very clever. I talked about that in tonight's class."

"A metaphor for what? I mean, in your opinion," Cordy wonders, playing along.

"The troubles face by the single career gal in the big city. The two of us write about the exact same subject. But you extrapolate it out with magical realism or, whatever, to give it this fantastical sheen. We've all had lousy one-night stands. You turn it into an insta-monster-pregnancy, which is wonderful!"

"It wasn't wonderful to go through." Carrie laughs.

"You're great at staying in character. And this Angel.' He's the classic, perfect, unattainable man. A sensitive hunk. A heroic warrior. An incredible dresser. But cursed! The dream guy you can only have in your dreams."

"Maybe I should show you his picture again," Cordy suggests to overcome the skepticism.

"Eternally young, yet eternally mature. Who wouldn't want that?"

"Hopefully not you. He likes blondes, but, well - "

"There's still at least a few hundred men in this town I can date before I need to move on," she quips. "I'm an old-fashioned girl. I think love and sex should go together. In his case, obviously, they can't. Is this the awkward English guy who slobbered on you?"

"Yeah. That's Wesley."

"He doesn't look so awkward anymore. Do you have any pictures of the son'?"

"Not on me."

"I think every girl our age has had her Connor.'"

"OUR age?," Cordy asks cattily. They're drunk enough that she's forgotten this is a woman she wants to suck up to. Carrie just laughs.

"Every girl my age, when she was your age, goes out with a younger guy, while she still can. Last time I tried he said I reminded him of his mother!" She laughs, Cordelia doesn't. "It's fun, for about two seconds, and then you realize they're just too immature."

"Then how come men don't realize that when they go out with much younger women?," Cordy asks, thinking of Buffy.

"Men have lower standards." Cordy smiles, thinking of Buffy.

The Slayers come to an eight foot-high chain link fence. Rona bends her knees and leaps over it. Ariella jumps up, grabs the top of the fence with both hands and swings her legs over. Madari lands on top, then hops down. Connor scales the fence and uses his upward momentum to help him leap from the top, sailing over the girls. "Show off," Rona jokes. Connor glances back at them, smiles and leads the way. He kicks open a door and enters a warehouse. It's empty, but contains couches, lamps, sleeping bags and other signs of habitation.

"They were here tonight. I can smell them."

"Vampires smell different than people?," Rona asks.

"How so?," Ariella wonders, before thinking better of it. Connor has criss-crossed the docks, checked dozens of abandoned buildings all around town, but come up empty-handed tonight. He feels a little embarrassed.

"What about those clubs?," Madari suggests. This gives Connor an idea.

Angel's prowling the sewer. "Kline? I know you're around here. I can smell you." Someone hits Angel from behind with a baseball bat and lands another swing before Angel rolls out of the way, gets up, grabs the bat and pushes a tall, thin, yellow-skinned demon with long orange hair up against the wall.

"Angel!"

"Kline, what was that for?"

"Sorry Angel. I have to be extra careful around vampires these days. Ever since Mal sent you guys on the warpath. No offense. By you guys' I don't mean you in particular. Just, every other vampire."

"Mal is dead." Kline laughs.

"Yeah. And I'm Miss America."

"I killed him."

"Sure you did. Sure you did, Angel."

"Has anyone seen him around in the past nine nights?," Angel asks rhetorically.

"He's a busy vamp. But he'll return. Why else do ya think the vampires fight like an army?"

"The re-organization. They're carrying through with that?" Angel had seen the plans the night before killing Mal, and assumed they died with their architect.

"It's carried. Man, the vamps used to know their place. No offense. Now they're all uppity. Talking about demon inferiority,' and how we don't belong here."

"Vampires have never liked demons. No offense."

"But we were still brothers, man. Compared to the humans. Now they think they're the highest-of-the-high, and we're the lowest-of-the-low."

"There's nothing new or special about vampires and demons fighting for turf." Angel doesn't want to concede that Mal achieved some sort of revolutionary paradigm shift. He'd hate to give an enemy such credit.

"And we'd always win. Demons are just stronger. No offense. But they're organized. Like the humans! And we're not."

"Who's their leader?"

"Who else? Mal."

"Mal's gone."

"You mean who's his agent? This new hotshot at Wolfram & Hart." Angel sighs.

"Clayton Jenkins."

"Yeah. I thought that company was run by demons. Why are they turning on their own kind?"

"You think Clayton's behind this, umm, demon cleansing?"

"It's a shakedown, man! Even demons who are his clients have to pay the vamps. See, they leave us alone if we drop the dime. We don't, we're toast. That's why I'm down here, man. Got too much pride to pay. But I still wanna live."

Annette slowly walks down a suitably seedy alley, wearing a bright red jacket to attract vampires towards her long, bare, swanlike neck. Her hands are in her jacket pockets, a stake in her right pocket, a cross in her left. She spins around and gasps upon seeing a young man approach. He smiles bashfully. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Merci. I am new to this city, and am lost," she replies with a heavier accent and less fluent English than she actually speaks. "Could you help me, masseur?"

"Definitely." He goes bumpy. She kicks him in the chest with her right foot. Two other vampires rush in and watch the attacker's back. He charges in. Annette holds her ground, grabs the vampire and throws him into the wall. He tries to grab her. She stays back and shuffles to the right. He turns round and they circle counter-clockwise. "I like a good fight."

"Not me. I like a quick kill," Annette responds, equating her slaying with his feeding. After all, they both try to lure in their prey and exploit an enemy's naivete. One of the lookout vampires is content that there is no ambush, and turns round to watch the interesting fight. Claude sneaks up on him from behind and sticks him with a four foot-long wooden stave, sharpened at both ends. The other lookout attacks Claude with a ten inch-long dagger.

"Merde."

"Papa!," Annette shouts, looking to her right. Her opponent grabs her and goes for the bite. She knees him in the groin and escapes. Claude uses his long stave to keep the knife out of range. Finally, the vampire leaps over Claude's head. He tries to stake him in midair with an upturned stave, but the vampire grabs the end and rips it off on his way down. Claude spins the weapon round and stabs with the other sharp end. The vamp chops the point off at the last instant with his dagger. Annette stands with her back to the wall so the vampire can't grab her from behind. He approaches cautiously, watching her hands for any weapons. He throws a right jab. She doesn't flinch, but ducks under the blow, steps around him, reaches her right arm out and gets him from behind with a backhand stake. Her father puts a cross to the vampire's right hand as he tries to stab him and puts out his cigarette on the vampire's face. He yells in pain and retreats. They both catch their breath.

"And they say smoking kills," he jokes.

"I did it!"

"You would have been dead without me."

"European vampires are more charming. They try to get to know you first."

"I'm surprised they all didn't attack you at once."

"They must be used to ambushes."

"Clearly they were very nervous about getting surprised."

Connor enters a lively bar with Rona, Ariella and Madari. He looks around for a few seconds and abruptly leaves. "That was weak," Rona criticizes, expressing her view about the entire night.

"Something's wrong," Connor declares.

"I expected a vampire bar to be less cheerful," Ariella offers. "More goth, or, whatever."

"Those are humans. This place used to be crawling with vampires."

"So they've expanded their customer base," Rona figures.

"The man behind the counter – he's still a vampire."

"Kill the bartender?," Rona asks.

"Won't that make everyone else really mad?," Madari wonders. She's not eager to fight off an angry mob of broken beer bottle-wielding drunks.

"There could be others," Connor theorizes. He goes back in. The Slayers decide to follow.

"Can I see some I.D.?," the bartender asks. Connor smiles. This is usually the point where he'd throw someone through a window. He glances to the left and right. The bartender reaches under the bar and clicks something. Connor recognizes the sound of a shotgun being cocked. He holds off on that brawl he was about to start. "You're not welcome here," the proprietor whispers from four feet away at a volume only Connor or a vampire could hear. This means the Slayers, and none of the other patrons, know what's going on. Causing a scene is bad for business. He cocks the shotgun again without brandishing the weapon, since that would also be disruptive. "Maybe you can kill me before I can fire at you. Or at one of your girlfriends. Maybe not. But this is my bar, and I'm willing to die for it. Are you?" Connor glances to his left. Outside the rest rooms and next to the pay phone is a vampire (in human face) with his right hand at his belt, indicating that he's packing. At the very least, a fight would result in a lot of innocent humans getting caught in the crossfire and killed, which Connor's father would get very upset about. To say nothing of Buffy's fury when she learned that Connor got her Slayers into a saloon shootout. He puts his hands on the bar rail.

"My mistake. I didn't know I was dealing with a coward." He turns round. "Let's go," he says to the Slayers.

"You girls are welcome to stay. Slayers drink free." The three of them spin round at the door.

"Well I'll be," Rona chuckles as she walks over to the bartender. "Two days in LA, and already I'm a celebrity." Ariella and Madari follow her. Theyre honored by the recognition. It's the first time strangers have known who they are. Connor stays back, alternating between glaring at the bartender and scanning the place to count the number of vamps and make sure no one gets bit.

"What happened to the other two?," he asks with a smile. This really freaks the girls out.

"Shouldn't a vampire be nervous about having Vampire Slayers in his bar?," Rona asks.

"In here, we don't drink anything that don't come out of a bottle. Live and let live."

"But you're dead," Madari quips.

"Way I hear it, that's how Slayers like their men." The girls take offense, until they realize he's not insulting them.

"What do you know about Slayers?," Ariella asks.

"We're the first ones you've met," Rona states.

"How do you know that?"

"Cause if we weren't, you'd be dust."

"Whatever you think of my kind, a vampire for each of you is better than all of you having to share Wonder Boy." Not that was insulting.

"He in NOT our boyfriend," Ariella snaps.

"For your information, we already got boyfriends," Rona explains. "Normal human boyfriends. Except for Ella, who's, like, religious. Why am I telling you this?"

"I'm a bartender. People tell me everything." The Slayers hit a few clubs and do some dancing on the way home, but don't find any vamps. Connor can't comprehend the bar's sudden shift in clientele. It doesn't occur to him that it might have something to do with his firebombing of a vampire bar ten days ago, an event that may have convinced vampires not to make themselves sitting ducks. Connor enters his room very late, expecting Dawn to be asleep. But she's sitting on the bed, her laptop in her lap.

"Long night?," she asks. He had been gone for more than five hours.

"Lousy night." She's selfishly glad to hear this. "No killing."

"At least no one died. On your side. Our side."

"I missed you," he says with a smile, climbing onto the bed and running his left hand up her right leg. Dawn's heart melts. Her knees would be getting weak if one of them wasn't already shattered. "Can't wait till we can hunt together." The term "hunting" always sounds so alien to her, like it means going on safari. It also reminded her of the man he met while hunting two nights ago.

"What did he say to you?"

"He?"

"This Clayton guy."

"Right." Connor had forgotten about that little project. "Find out anything?"

"A lot. This guy's got a fan club."

"Sure are a lot of evil people out there."

"That's not why they celebrate him. I mean, it's not why they say they celebrate him. To a lot of people, Clayton Jenkins is the embodiment of the American Dream. If I didn't know he worked for an evil law firm, I'd say the guy was a living saint. Least that's what these people say."

"They've been fooled. Right?" Clay did seem like a nice guy when Connor met him. Sure, it was probably an act, but how many fast-talking charmers give you a house?

"If so, then everyone's been fooled. He has tons of friends. And no enemies. Except for Angel."

"No human enemies."

"Except for Angel's friends. Even though he hasn't actually done anything to them. My point is, I don't trust someone who doesn't have any enemies. If you're a good person, some people will hate you."

NEXT: Clayton's adventurous past, and seemingly golden future.