While Angel's still figuring out how to get to Debbie, Connor gets to her first, meeting Devlin and Spike along the way.

On Monday morning, Harmony stands at the front end of the conference table, relishing this rare chance to be the center of attention. "Debbie's best friend is Cynthia. Cynthia's been dating Theo for about a year. He's friends with Diego. Danielle and Melanie ran with the same crowd Cynthia did. But they didn't become part of Debbie's little group until last fall. In other words, after Debbie flaunted her super powers. Last September she started beating up popular guys who picked on losers. I guess that's what they call anti-social behaviour. Soon she was muscling around anyone who got in her way. She has this whole I can do anything I want, what are you gonna do about it?' attitude."

"What about the vampires?," Angel asks.

"I'm getting to that," Harmony replies with obvious annoyance at his impatience. "I don't know when she met Spike's son – "

"Harm!," Spike objects.

"Sorry. The vampire Spike sired. And I don't know when they became a sick, unnatural couple. But they were first seen together at a Halloween Party. She'd been a Slayer for at least a month-and-a-half by then. But it was only after Halloween that people started seeing Debbie and her friends walking around at night looking like suspicious freaks."

"You mean patrolling for vampires," Wesley clarifies.

"What's the difference?," Harmony responds. "And it was in November that Devlin's college friends' started to show up. That's what the other kids call the vampires. There's a couple colleges within a few miles, and they all look around twenty, so it makes sense." Angel remembers when Buffy told Joyce that Angel was a student at the local community college.

"How many vampires?," Fred asks.

"Four. Counting the one Spike sired."

"Why do you keep bringing that up?," Spike complains.

"Sorry, Spikey. There's Devlin, of course. Plus Luiz, Paul and Sidney. Two guys and a girl. And here's the really disgusting part. They're all dating Debbie's friends. Sidney's with Diego. Luiz is with Donielle. And Paul goes with Melanie. Think about that."

"I'd rather not," Gunn replies, echoing Fred's and Wesley's sentiments.

"Let me finish. At the start of the school year, the three of them barely even know Debbie. Then they buddy up with supergirl, and two months later they're getting vampire tail."

"Was this before or after they saw Debbie staking vampires?," Angel asks.

"I guess they're open-minded when it comes to demons," Lorne quips.

"So open-minded their brains could fall out," Gunn concludes disparagingly. "They ain't ignorant. They know vampires are monsters who want to kill you. How do you decide you can trust a couple of them?" Spike and Angel look at Gunn. "That's different. Ya'al got souls."

"Or so they claim," Harmony retorts, shocking everyone with the depths or her supposed ditziness. "I'm serious. How do we know? Have we seen these souls? What proof is there?"

"They help protect humans," Wesley replies condescendingly.

"And they don't try to kill us," Fred adds.

"Exactly!" Everyone's embarrassed to realize that Harmony was mentally a step ahead of them. "Devlin and his friends don't bite people. And they kill other vampires."

"But first they would have gain these people's trust," Wes points out.

"Before the Slayer staked them," Gunn adds.

"Without being able to say I have a soul' or it's physically impossible for me to bite people.'" Fred looks at Angel and Spike. "How would you do that?" They think about this for a few seconds.

"Bloody good question," Spike concedes.

"They could have just lied," Angel guesses. "Then again, it doesn't matter why they trust these vampires. Only that they do. Good work Harmony." She smiles. "How did you get your information?"

"That was a problem. I had to schlepp my way to three keggers. These poor kids had nowhere to go and hang out. Did you know that most small towns don't have an all-ages club with a five dollar cover and live bands four times a week?"

Lorne laughs. "Why would they? Even in a big city like this, that's a surefire recipe for bankruptcy. You're in the poor house without liquor sales."

"I guess us Sunnydalers were lucky, at least in one way."

"Ya'al had a night club on Hellmouth?," Gunn asks. "Who ran it, a group of vampires?" Fred and Lorne laugh. Those who have been to Sunnydale don't quite get it. "Why the funny looks? A place for hundreds of tasty teens to go after dark? Were the vamps up there too stupid to take advantage of the no-hassle one-stop shopping?" Spike and Angel nod in agreement.

"It was very convenient," Angel concedes.

"I especially liked the shortage of parking," Spike recalls. "People had to walk a long way to get to their cars."

"Through a lot of poorly lit, deserted alleys," Angel adds. Wes, Gunn and Fred are becoming uncomfortable with their vampire champions' rehashing of times when they were evil. This makes Angel defensive. "I'm simply agreeing with you guys. It was a death trap. But there was never a massacre. Then the Bronze would have shut down. And no one wanted to kill the goose and lose the golden eggs." Angel feels the need to get back on topic. "Did you talk to any of Debbie's friends?"

"And give myself away? Are you crazy?"

"You've never met Debbie or Devlin. They have no reason to know you work for me."

"But what if they sensed I was a vampire? And who's to say Devlin doesn't know me? He knows about Spikey and Buffy. Maybe he also knows about my stormy, on-and-off relationship with his sire. Besides, who dishes their own dirt? I found out more about the Slayer from everyone else than whatever she would have told me about herself. Also, I'm now one of the most popular girls in Laguna Hills High School. And I don't even go there. Four football players asked me for my number. I didn't give it to any of them," she assures them. "I'm not desperate enough to drive forty miles for a date."

"A college party?," Devlin asks Debbie. It's the previous Saturday evening.

"My friend Judith invited me. You met her when she came home for Christmas Break."

"The pre-med?"

"Uh-huh."

"Where's she go?"

"USC."

"The University of Spoiled Children. That's a pretty long trip from here." Debbie laughs. "What's so funny?"

"You remembered her major, but not her school?"

"I see the forest for the trees. Mostly because I need their shade."

"She says we can spend the night at her place after the party. Is that a problem?"

"Not as long as she keeps her shades drawn. Windows on my Mustang are tinted dark enough so I can drive in the daytime. If we go up there, will you have time to finish your homework?"

Deb slaps Dev in the chest with the back of her right hand. "You are so beyond strange. What am I ever gonna do with you?"

"I have a few suggestions. All of which you probably wouldn't want to do in front of your friend."

"That's what I mean!," Deb says as she playfully chokes Dev with both hands. "One minute you're nastier than any bad boy. Then next you're squarer than any good boy."

"Will you be able to finish your work?"

"If I can't, you can always do some of it for me."

"I can do problem sets, and then you can copy them over in your own writing, but I can't do papers. They could tell right away that it wasn't your work."

"I have a history paper due Tuesday. And why do you care so damn much?"

"I want you to go to a good school. Get out of this place, and have a future. At some point you'll be too old for slaying."

"Really. When?"

"I don't think any of them have lived long enough to find out. Hopefully, you'll be the first." Debbie misses Devlin's thinly veiled threat against certain older, more experienced Slayers.

A few hours later, Spike's patrolling the Sunset Strip, looking for damsels to save, when he senses Devlin's presence five miles to the south. He gets in his car and drives off to see what the boy is up to. Meanwhile, Deb and Dev walk down the sidewalk toward the fraternity house. Dev wears black boots, black jeans and a tight black t-shirt. Deb wears tight black leather pants and a powder blue halter top. Dev's brown leather coat is draped over her shoulders. Though far from home, they still walk like they own the street. Being together gives each of them a feeling of invincibility. They walk through the front door of the packed house. Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" blares out of the sound system.

"Judy!," Debbie shouts when she sees her old friend. They hug, ask each other how they've been. Then Debbie hangs Devlin's jacket in the coatroom while he heads over to the keg to get them some drinks. He notices Judith shadowing him. It's clear she has her suspicions. And she doesn't even know the half of it.

"Deb hasn't said much about you," she begins. "But what she does say makes it sound serious. Question is, are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I love her. I've never felt this way about anyone."

"You're what, twenty?"

"Nineteen. I know what you're thinking. I knew what you were thinking before you said a word. College guy, high school girl. I'm just looking to have my fun, then move on. Well I'm not. You grew up next door to Debbie. So you must know how incredible she is. I care about her more than you'd ever believe."

"Chill. You're not on trial. I'm not trying to protect her. Debbie's a tough girl. She can take care of herself."

"You have no idea," Dev replies with a smirk.

"It's been four months. If you were a jerk, she'd have figured that out by now."

"Thanks Judy. Now I'm trusted by friends of Debbie in two counties." Dev notices that Debbie's talking to some college boy. Right then, Dylan's "Highway 61" starts playing:

"God said Abraham, kill me a son.' Abe said Man, you must be putting me on.'"

A minute earlier, as she left the coatroom, Debbie saw a sad, sulking boy leaning against the banister. The skinny boy has pale blue eyes, soft red lips and thin brown hair overgrown in front and parted down the middle. He wears faded, worn-out blue jeans, a tattered gray t-shirt and a brand-new, unbuttoned blue polo shirt with the sleeves rolled partway up. His brand-new brown suede shoes look pretty expensive. "Typical preppy," Debbie thinks to herself. Someone without real problems who has the luxury of going despondent over something trivial. He finishes his beer, tosses the cup away, takes out a flask and gulps down a few ounces of whiskey. His pale cheeks are slightly reddened, as if he'd recently been crying. Devlin said Spike was like this right before Drusilla sired him. He was definite vampire bait. Or a potential suicide case. Helping people had become something of an instinct for Debbie. Even when monsters weren't involved. She walks over to the pathetic, vulnerable wretch.

"It's not the end of the world."

He scowls at her. "Who asked you?"

"Death in the family? Find out someone you love has cancer? Parent got laid off so you have to quit school and get a job to support your younger brothers and sisters?"

"Leave me alone."

"Or did some girl just dump you? You're young. You're cute. Shouldn't take too long for a handsome guy like you to find someone better."

He manages a small smile. Then he looks at Debbie again. The heart-shaped face. The delicate features. The flowing curls. That knockout body. She's beautiful. God, is she beautiful. And she's coming on to him! "Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. Thanks for coming over to cheer me up, umm, what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. It's Debbie." She holds out her hand. He shakes it, grins and stares into her big green eyes.

"I'm John. But my friends call me Connor."

"Why? Is that your middle name?"

"It's my last name."

Debbie laughs. He looks embarrassed. "You're name's John Connor?" She can tell he gets this all the time.

"My parents swear they hadn't seen the movie."

"So you're not actually a messianic hero destined to save humankind," she jokes.

"I hope not," he jokes back. "Cause if that's what I'm supposed to be, we're screwed." They both laugh.

"So who was the girl?"

"She wasn't just a girl. Tracey was the only girl. We went out for three years."

"Are you a freshman?"

"What do you think?"

"This sorta thing happens to everybody."

"Not to us. I go to USC. She goes to UCLA. We're five minutes apart. We saw each other all the time. Everything was great. Then last night, I go over to her place, as she's with another guy."

"In bed? Naked?"

"On the couch. With clothes on."

"Count your blessings. Coulda been worse."

"They were kissing. He was on top of her. His hands were all, argh!!!" John punches the railing. Debbie's expecting it to break, then remembers that he doesn't have super powers.

"Like I said."

"It's more than Tracey. High school was great. I was happy for, like, my whole childhood. I don't remember ever not being happy. Things always seemed to go my way."

"You were lucky. Or, maybe you were cursed."

"I'm beginning to think it's that second one. Ever since I came here, things have been different for me."

"Isn't college supposed to be like that? Everyone has trouble with a couple classes freshman year."

"School's not the problem. My grades are okay. It's all the other stuff."

"Sounds to me like Tracey was your problem. Now that she's gone, you can find the solution." John smiles at Debbie. His heart races. Watching all this as he walks over with three beers in his left hand is Devlin. This live college boy has taken a keen interest in his girl. He was easy on the eyes. A little effeminate, perhaps. Then again, some people used to say the same thing about Devlin. He takes a beer in his right hand, comes up to Debbie from behind and puts his right arm around her shoulders. She takes takes the drink in her right hand, looks up at Devlin and kisses him on the lips. John Connor's heart sinks into his socks. "What took you so long?," Deb asks.

"I thought I should pick up something for your new friend."

"How mature." She assumed he'd be jealous of this new boy. Dev knows that it's best to mask jealousy with magnanimity so as not to give the other guy any satisfaction. Deb takes another beer in her left hand and hands the cup to John. He takes it, mutters thanks to Debbie, but doesn't make eye contact with Dev.

"Cheers, mate," Devlin tells John with a smirk and an outstretched glass. (The early years when he emulated Spike had left their mark.) Connor doesn't reciprocate the toast, but instead starts chugging. "Bottoms up, then." Dev follows suit. They both finish their beers in a matter of seconds. "Not bad for a freshman." Devlin and Connor are the same height and about the same build, though Dev's a lot more chiseled, a difference that isn't very noticeable when they're fully-clothed. Devlin's eyes are brown, his hair's a little thicker, his nose a tad bigger, his chin more prominent and his cheekbones less so. Other than these minor differences, the two of them look an awful lot alike.

"John, this is my boyfriend, Devlin," Debbie tells him as Dev puts his arms around her waist and she rests her head against his chest. Having not expected Connor to fall for her, she doesn't mean to antagonize him with their routine boyfriend-girlfriend behavior.

"Nice to meet you, John. What's your major?" Debbie takes his hands in hers, pulls them out to the side, leads his right hand to her waist and lets go of his left hand. He puts his right hand on her back. This less overt display of affection is proportionately easier for Connor to take.

"Philosophy."

"Cool. I've always liked that stuff. Being and nothingness and how can we prove our lives are real. Who's your favorite philosopher?

"I don't know." John thinks that's a stupid question. "Plato. Maybe Schopenhaur."

"I'll give you extra points for not following the herd and saying Nietzsche. Me, I've always liked Kierkegaard. Have you read Fear and Trembling'?"

"Have you read anything else of his?," John asks derisively, certain that Devlin's a callow pseudo-intellectual.

"I like Either/Or.' Not all one thousand pages, but certain passages: There is so much talk about man being a social animal, but basically he is a beast of prey, something that can be ascertained by looking at his teeth.'" Devlin smiles at John. Debbie worries he's going to do something macho and foolish, like show this boy his real teeth to scare him off.

"Wanna dance?," she asks nervously.

"With you? Always. Except to Fatboy Slim. Him I have to conscientiously object to." Debbie seriously thinks of asking Connor to dance and make Dev jealous, but decides not to lead the boy on. "So John, do you agree with Soren? Is killing your son because God tells you to do it really the highest expression of faith?"

Connor's smashed, which, on top of him not liking Devlin and being filled with a burning rage about why this great girl is with such a loser, makes it extremely difficult for him to engage in serious conversation. "I think he was making a bigger point about how religion is not compatible with reason," he manages to slur out.

"Which is why he prefers religion. But you know what that story makes me think about? Ishmael. He was also a miracle child. But once Isaac comes along, big brother's gotta go. All because his momma's not the woman daddy truly loves. And then Abraham and Sarah and all their friends pretend Ishmael never even existed. Talk about a raw deal."

"What the hell does that have to do with Kierkegaard?"

"It shows that life's unfair. I think he'd agree." Connor wonders why he's talking to this wiseass. Then he remembers: because he's got a massive jones for the jerk's girlfriend. Which only made the whole scene even more painful and humiliating. The song ends. Deb takes Dev's right hand in her left hand.

"Can we go now?"

"I guess I'll dance to Moby. But only under protest." Deb shakes her head. Dev can be so ornery sometimes. She chugs about a third of her beer, hands the cup to Connor, gives him a friendly smile and heads out onto the dance floor with her boyfriend.

"What was that all about?," she asks Devlin.

"Just me being friendly; making small talk."

"You call that small talk?"

"I also call fighting for our lives a date."

"I thought you call that foreplay?," she asks seductively as they inch closer. Connor watches with narrowed eyes and clenched jaw. He's never felt this sort of primal fury before. He catches a look at her bare back. And Devlin's hands on her skin. Debbie is beautiful, sweet, funny. Powerful and confident in a way John can't quite put his finger on. What the hell was she doing with this asshole? Touching him. Pressing her body against his. Letting him run his fingers through her hair. And all the while, smiling as if this unworthy fool made her happy. He wants to rip Devlin's head off and kick his stupid, happy face down the street. Just imagining doing this gives him a visceral thrill. John's never fantasized about taking a life. It scares the small part of him that's still sober. Connor downs the rest of Debbie's beer, throws the cup on the floor, turns around and storms out of the house.

Spike stands outside the building he's tracked Devlin to. This is a long way for Dev to go for a party. Spike looks up and down the street at the drunken students walking this way and that. Perfect targets. He temporarily forgets the original reason he's there and goes into life-saving hero mode. Connor staggers onto the sidewalk. He stops to take a long swig out of his flask. Then he heads to the corner, turns right and weaves down a dark, secluded street. Kid's practically gift-wrapped. Here's someone Spike has to look out for. As he walks after his potential damsel, Connor leans over to puke on the grass and dry heave a few times. Then he continues walking, finishes off the flask and throws it against the side of a building. As he closes with Connor, Spike tries to guess his damage. "Did she say you could still be friends? For me, that was the worst bloody part." Connor turns to his left to look at the stranger walking beside him.

"Sorry pal. Not interested. I don't swing that way." Spike's horrified to realize that the young man thinks he's being propositioned.

"Well, bloody hell! Neither do I."

"Yeah right. You met me in a dark alley late at night just to talk?" Actually, Spike came to walk him home, but he realizes this sounds even worse.

"I remember the last time I got this pissed. Trust me, it's her loss. She'll be miserable without you. And you'll find someone even better."

"With a sweet smile, smoking hot body, cute little tattoo, eyebrow ring, navel piercing. A good girl who you just know could get a little wild. Meeting her was the easy part. Now I gotta beat up her self-important, idiotic, the-world-revolves-around-me jackass boyfriend." Connor punches the trunk of a palm tree in frustration.

"Trust me, that always backfires. Makes her mad at you. Brings the two of them closer together while she nurses him back to health and you're stuck in a wheelchair."

"Then you could do it for me," Connor suggests before laughing. "You don't look so tough. But he looks even wussier. And then you can get lost and leave me alone."

"Cuz you can take care of yourself on these mean streets. It's hunting season out here, and you're bloody Bambi."

"You think I'll get mugged?"

"If you're lucky."

Connor squints, staggers over to Spike, smacks his right hand into the top of Spike's head, then pushes his left shoulder. "You're real." He backs away and giggles some more. "You know, you're supposed to dilute the peroxide first. Unless that's how you wanted it to look." Connor turns around and resumes weaving his way home. Spike keeps his distance, but follows him just to make sure. Then he heads back to check in on his boy. Inside, he finds Devlin with Debbie and her friend Judith, whom Spike didn't recognize. Dev was too focused on Deb to notice Spike, who kept to the shadows. Dev was dressed just like Spike, minus the coat. Had his hair just like Spike's, minus the bleach. But it was Debbie who really caught Spike's eye. When they met the other night, a jacket covered the tattoo on her right upper arm. And for obvious reasons, she didn't wear her piercings when patrolling. Spike laughs. The drunken sad sack Spike was trying to relate to and protect, he was in love with a Slayer. And jealous of Spike's offspring to boot. Poor unlucky bastard.