"Buffy? A word?"

Buffy looked up; Principal Wood was standing in the doorway to his office, a look of concern on his face. She nodded and wordlessly followed him inside. He shut the door behind them and they took seats on opposite sides of his desk.

He ran a hand over his smooth head and looked into her eyes. "I wanted to ask, and if I'm out of line say so, but … is everything alright? Everything at home? You seem a little distracted the last few weeks."

"Did I … is there something specific? Because I really think this year's going better than last," she said nervously, "I mean with me being here on time and doing the counselor thing, you know, actually giving them advice and stuff … did I mention I've been on time more?"

He held up a hand, cutting her off. "Don't worry, Buffy. This isn't one of those 'shape up or I'll fire you' talks. Your work's going just fine."

"Oh. Good. That's good."

"I'm just asking because you seem … distracted these last few weeks."

Buffy shrugged. "Really, everything's fine. I'm fine. Dawn's fine. It's a fine, fine day really."

"Dawn's fine?"

"She looked good when I saw her last weekend." Too late, Buffy realized her mistake.

Wood raised his eyebrows. "She came home for the weekend? I thought …"

"No, I mean, came home? Of course not. She's in England. It's not like she could just hop in the fireplace and come home for the weekend. She … it was …

"Hop in the fireplace?" He asked incredulously at the same time she blurted out "video phone."

"Video phone?"

"Web … video … conference … We talked over the Internet," Buffy squeezed out finally, feeling inordinately stupid. "You know, with the webcam and chatting and stuff?" She added hopefully.

"Uh huh." He didn't appear to have bought it, but he let it go. "And she's okay? She likes boarding school in England?"

"Yeah, she does. She complains about the robe … aerobics. They make her do aerobics and she hates it. But otherwise, yeah, it's good."

"Good," he said, nodding. "So what is it, then, Buffy? What's going on with you? If it's personal, obviously it's none of my business, but I'd like to help, if I could." Now Wood seemed flustered. "Maybe …"

"It's personal, yeah, and …"

"Over dinner tomorrow night?"

".I don't think … dinner? Over dinner?" Her eyes narrowed. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"I was, but you're obviously seeing someone or …"

"Seeing? No, there's no seeing, but I'm sorta …" she paused, thinking of Spike. "Principal Wood," she said.

"Robin."

"Robin … it's not that you're not a nice guy or attractive, I just … can't. Not right now."

He pursed his lips and nodded. She felt bad for disappointing him, but she didn't have much choice. "I understand."

"I really doubt it," she muttered.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing. Look, it's nothing personal. I'm sure you're a great guy, really, I've just got a lot going on."

"Fair enough." He smiled, his even, white teeth hiding his disappointment poorly. "Friends, then?"

"Friends." She smiled back, then got up and left the room.

When she was gone, he reached into the drawer and pulled out a wooden cross. The bottom had been sharpened to a razor point.

"Good thing I have a way to work out my disappointment," he said, his eyes on the door.

Buffy almost went home after work, but she didn't really want to sit around an empty house. Fred and George wouldn't be home until later. Anya and Xander weren't coming over for dinner tonight, either, so the house would have been very still. She hated that. It made her miss her mother and Dawn acutely.

At the Espresso Pump, she ordered a mocha with two extra shots of espresso. Caffeine had not helped to shake her doldrums so far, but she kept hope alive.

The traumatic lethargy that attacked her at Hogwarts had mostly abated, but not entirely. Giles had given her express instructions not to leave Sunnydale until they figured out what was wrong. She didn't really care much about fixing it, which, she knew, was a symptom of whatever was wrong with her. She just never seemed to have the energy to do anything anymore.

"Is this seat taken?" The smooth voice interrupted her revelry.

"Huh? Well, I …" She looked up and saw the speaker. Stunned, she shook her head. Her mind felt syrupy all of a sudden. "It's … it's you."

"Yes, I suppose it is." The blonde man, this time unaccompanied by cultists, slid into the seat opposite her. He carried one of the Espresso Pump's few ceramic mugs. "The coffee here is quite good, don't you think?"

"You …" She looked around, trying to react defensively and strangely unable to. In fact, she felt no fear at all, which she knew was wrong but couldn't stop. "You're here having coffee?"

"Having coffee with you, if that's alright."

"Where's the Waco gang?"

"Waco gang?"

"Your cult guys."

"They don't handle caffeine very well, I'm afraid."

In spite of herself, Buffy smiled. She felt totally out of control of her own reactions to this man, and her head refused to clear.

"Why are you here?"

"Believe it or not," he said, glancing around furtively, "I am here because I need your help."

"Hmm … I choose not."

He shrugged. "Be that as it may, will you hear me out?"

She found herself nodding without conscious thought.

"First, let me apologize for my behavior. The attacks on your home were neither my idea nor under my control, but were necessary to maintain what little freedom I have."

"Uh huh. You poisoned me. You attacked my house. Twice. And now every time I go to the mall, everybody at those little stands in the aisle looks at me funny. But it's okay because you had to do it, and you're sorry."

She had the strong urge to run away, but she couldn't seem to get out of her chair. Instead, she took a sip of her mocha.

"You can't leave," he said, seeing her muscles tense. "The spell is complex and very difficult to break."

"Undo it. Let me go."

"Ah, if only I could. I did not cast it, however, and so I can not free you from it," he lied. "Your freedom will be restored once I depart, which will be soon – I haven't much time. Will you hear me out?"
"Do I have a choice?"

"No, I suppose not." He offered a sympathetic grin, and she realized again that he was stunningly attractive. "As I said, I need your help. Do you know what I am?"

"I'm thinking Libra, but we just met, so I'm not sure."

He chuckled. "No. Gemini, actually, but that's neither here nor there. I am an angel."

"I have so heard that one before."

"Not Angel, my dear. An angel. As in, I believe you might say, wings and a harp and a pair of birkenstocks?"

She instinctively looked down. His shoes were black Kennth Coles, partially obscured by his khaki pants.

"There are no actual Birkenstocks, Buffy."

"So does that mean all angels have your good taste in shoes?"

"Some," he said. The more they conversed, the more he admired her. She was under a spell and had to be frightened, but still she bantered as if they were two people just having coffee. "May I continue?"

"Go ahead. Whatever gets me out faster."

He nodded. "Do you recall the furry brown creature which accompanied me to your home?"

"Furby with wings? Yeah."

"It is a Shallebite, and I am its captive. It has bound me here, to this dimension and to the Hellmouth, to keep me from interfering with its master's plans."

"And its master is …"

"Not worthy of your concern. A demon in another dimension."

She wanted to ask more, but something forced her to let it drop. "So you're in, what, angel jail?"

"I am a prisoner of war. I must find a way to free myself before this thing, this Shallebite, completes its plan."

"This is all very interesting, but what does it have to do with me?"

"I manipulated it to bring me here. I told it of the existence and power of the Key, so that it would come here and try to seize the Key."

"Hence the attacks."

"Yes."

"And putting my sister in the line of something that can corral an angel is endearing me to helping you how?"

"Your sister is safe, Buffy. It cannot use the Key without my help, and I will not do so. I brought it here because you are … well, a legendary warrior for the light."

"I wield a mean bulb, it's true."

He smiled. "I need your help, Buffy. I must be free of this Shallebite or my entire dimension will be imperiled. If my dimension falls, so do the Powers That Be."

"That could be bad," Buffy said. Then she frowned. "But why am I all bound up in the mojo? Why force me to stay here or near you?"

"You sent the Key away. Now you cannot go to protect it. It does not matter, however."

"What? It absolutely matters. You said …"

"The Shallebite cannot be defeated in combat, as I will protect it. My powers on this plane are nearly unlimited. Do I not seem different to you now than I did at our other encounters?"

"Yeah, what's that about?"

"Because when I am near it, I am in its thrall. As you are bound to me, I am bound to it."

"Oookay… so what does that have to do with …"

"I can only be freed here, at the Hellmouth. Now listen carefully. I only have seconds left." He leaned over and grasped her hands; the touch sent an electric thrill through her body, as if he were touching her somewhere much more intimate. "You cannot tell anyone. Anyone who knows what I am will be at risk. I will do my best to meet with you in secret, but until then, you must not leave the Hellmouth unguarded. Not for a moment."

She nodded.

"Thank you, Buffy." Their eyes met and held each other. She though she could feel his mind wrapping around hers. The feeling was both eerie and comforting at the same time. "You will never know how many lives freeing me will change."

She nodded dully. Then she blinked and he was gone.

On the street, Robin Wood watched the angel vanish. He had heard every word, and while he didn't understand half of what was said, the look of confusion on Buffy's face chilled him to the bone.

"Did she believe it Master was it believed?" Recks asked as they watched Buffy collect her things and depart the Espresso Pump. She appeared to be walking in a daze.

"Yes, Recks, she believed it." They were invisible, so Recks could not see his Master's triumphant smile. "That's the thing about heroes, my friend – give them the chance to do the right thing and they won't look too hard at whether the thing needs to be done."

"Did you enjoy conversing Master it seemed like you enjoyed it?"

"I did. She is … unlike any being I have ever encountered," he said with admiration. The Slayer walked across the street with the grace of a jungle cat, and he enjoyed the view immensely. "Her fear fails to contain her sense of humor. I quite enjoy that. "

"What if she seeks the Watcher or the wizard?"

"She won't. She does not wish to endanger her friends. I have suggested that they would be in danger, and they are unable to protest being left out because of it. She will not enlist their aid until it is too late." He looked over at Recks; unlike his henchman, he could see through the invisibility, and he caught the flash of worry in the stance of his beak. "You fear the vampire, Recks?"

"I do Master I do I'm sorry but I do. He seeks the sword with the sword he could kill you."

"He is only a vampire, and the sword is well-hidden. He wastes his time anyway, but when he realizes what has come to pass, he will not find it easily. Any reference to the sword has been expunged from this dimension. And his time draws short. Fear not, Recks," he said joyfully, his buoyant mood spurring him to scratch Recks' fur affectionately, "we will be triumphant and free ourselves from the prison that we have been condemned to for so long."

Recks' beady eyes darkened at that prospect, but he made the appropriate noises of enthusiasm and ignored the growing fear in his gut.