Logan watched with an incredulous look of wonder, amazement, and disbelief on his face as pure pandemonium broke out in his living room. It was like that time when he was a kid and his parents took him to the circus, except now, instead of elephants standing on their heads, clowns riding unicycles, and acrobats gracefully leaping through the air, he had two beautiful women fighting... and one of them just went flying past him into the far wall... Maybe this wasn't that different from the circus, but in the circus, the acrobats usually didn't try to kill each other, and they definitely didn't destroy pricey apartments while doing it.

The thought of his beloved, elegantly decorated house in danger was enough to bring him back to his present surroundings. Questions flitted though his mind like elusive hummingbirds. Each elegantly and speedily zooming past him with rapidly beating wings. One after another they came, so fast that he could barely catch one before another took its place.

'What is going on here? Someone almost died! Why are they fighting? Why *were* they fighting? Oh, look, a peach, I'm hungry. I haven't had anything since lunch. Why are they on the coffee table? I thought I put them in the pantry. And why am I thinking about dinner when I should be thinking about the fight? And why can't I stop thinking about food?!"

Logan watched with a horrified fascination as his best friend and the object of his affection duked it out in his living room. This dazzling display of mortal combat was made even more spectacular by the unnatural grace and fluidity with which both women moved. Their execution and coordination were astonishing. It was like watching dancers performing an elaborately choreographed routine. Each blow was swift and carried out with deadly intent, but that was what made it all the more titillating. They each possessed a dangerous edge that was breathtakingly beautiful, but Logan had eyes for Max alone. He winced as Max was assaulted with yet another staggering blow.

'That has *got* to hurt'.

Halfway through his contemplation of Max's moves, a thought suddenly hit him with the full force of a crashing tsunami.

'Oh my God! Max is naked!'

For a full minute (most likely more) all brain activity ceased as Logan's system tried, unsuccessfully, to absorbed the shock of this revelation. Then, almost immediately after, his mind kicked in to high gear.

'Oh my God, Max is naked! Why haven't I noticed before? What am I, some sort of pervert? No, I'm a gentleman, I should turn around and stop staring- -wait! I can't, I have to stop the fight. What how do I do that without starring at Max? At her beautiful, luscious, creamy, silky, --STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY!' Logan ordered himself. He needed to concentrate, he needed to stop the fight, and he needed to stop looking at Max's beautiful body. He needed to turn around. No, wait, first he needed to...he needed... AHH! He needed to begin forming coherent thoughts.

'Come on, Think, Logan, think! Ok...um don't make eye contact, right. Look somewhere else. Like where? Oh, um, the floor! Okay, looking at the floor. Hmm, floor very shiny, did the cleaning lady wax it recently? It's so nice...and so clean. I can even see a clear reflection of everything above it...including Max...STOP TORTURING YOURSELF!!'

Logan strode towards the two battling combatants trying hard to continue staring at the ceiling, which after the little fiasco with the floor, he had decided was the safest place to look. Keeping his neck at an unusual angle, he made his way toward the two women. Stopping a foot away from the action, Logan gave himself one last pep talk, took a deep breath, and put his brilliant plan into action.

***********

"STOP!!!"

Buffy had all but forgotten Logan's presence until his sudden exclamation. A detached part of her brain registered his request as her body deftly deflected and inflicted blows with the single intent of outwitting Max. While all of this was happening, another part of Buffy's brain explored alternatives and looked for the best possible course of action. She sighed inwardly as she settled on the only probable approach.

'Well, looks like there's no help for it. Logan's more important. Guess I'll have to take care of this bitca some other time. Man! The guy looks like he's gonna have a heart attack or something. .'

Twisting to avoid another roundhouse, Buffy mustered her strength and delivered a thunderous uppercut. The power behind the punch proved truly formidable and Max went out like a light. Without another glance in the transgenic's direction she turned her gaze to Logan. She read surprise and worry in his

eyes. They were fixated on the currently unconscious Max. Buffy could tell he was torn between helping Max and staying for an explanation. Buffy helped resolve his dilemma by stepping directly in his path, blocking the way to the brunette. Grabbing his arm gently but firmly, she commandeered his attention.

"I'll make this short, Logan. That fight? Take my advice, don't ask, don't tell. Trust me, the less you know, the better," she paused for a moment, looking into his blue irises for any reaction. It was almost amusing to watch him wrestle between his caution and his curiosity. She had to bite her bottom lip to keep herself from smiling as every emotion he was feeling displayed itself clearly on his face: worry, confusion, shock. Seriously, the guy was way too easy to read. When he looked like he would stay quiet she continued.

"Now, apart from the fight, I have something else to tell you Logan..." Buffy took a breath and then broke the news, "I know about Eyes Only."

"How did you-"

"That's not important," Buffy cut him off sharply, "All you need to know is this: you're in danger. There are things we need to discuss, but not here. Later. In private." With those words Buffy left a thoroughly bewildered Logan to his thoughts. She decided that it would be best to give him some time to

process all that she had told him, however cryptic it was.

Besides, the little displays of emotions registering on his face were starting to become painful. His worry was getting just *way* too palpable. Why couldn't all men be more mysterious and stoic? That way, she would actually have to guess at what they were thinking and how they were feeling. It would be so much easier if all guys were like Logan, but definitely less fun. Logan could take a lesson from Oz, she decided, or maybe even Giles. Heck, next to Logan's predictability, she even missed Angel's deadpan delivery of the most biting lines. Angel…why did she think of him? Bad *bad* brain, no thinking of Angel! That way laid heartache and pain and now was *not* a good time to poke at those still raw wounds. Quickly derailing that train of thought, she swiftly made her way to the door of the penthouse, only to find Max blocking her exit.

"Its not over, you know," Max's voice was sharp with warning and steely resolve.

"I'd let it go if I were you," advised Buffy quietly.

"Well, I'm not you, now am I?" mocked Max

"No, you're not," Buffy answered with a sardonic smile. Then she shoved her way past the brunette and left.

*************

Back in her own penthouse, Buffy paced back and forth in her room, wearing a track into the floor. Muttering and grumbling at some invisible entity, she only stopped occasionally to glare irately at her phone. Finally, after another half hour of debate with her invisible counterpart, Buffy picked up

the phone and dialed the well-remembered number.

"Hello?" Methos answered after three rings.

"We've got a problem," stated Buffy candidly, not bothering to attempt an exchange of pleasantries.

"What?" Methos was instantly alert, Buffy never called him unless she was really worried.

"There's a girl, Max. I think she knows what I am, I mean, she doesn't know that I'm immortal or anything like that, but she knows something's up."

"And how exactly would she know that?" Methos' voice was wry, and if she closed her eyes, Buffy could almost picture his eyebrow raised askance.

"I *really* don't want to go into that," answered Buffy emphatically, "Besides, that's not the point-"

"Then what *is* the point?" Methos interrupted impatiently.

"The *point* is that she's dangerous-"

"Will it be necessary to kill her?"

"I'm not sure." A thick silence followed as they each pondered the implications of her reply. Only a true threat to her survival would have allowed Buffy to even contemplate taking a life. However annoying that life was…..

"So..." said Methos, finally breaking the silence, "You wanna do lunch?"

"'K."