Gunn and Wes have a very close call out in the field. Harmony starts to worry when Wesley begins purging Dev's agents from W&H, while Dev wants her to do him yet another favor. Back in 1979, Elektra meets Spike. In 2004, Elektra makes her first splash in Los Angeles.
"I think it worked," Willow says on the phone to Buffy.
"How can you be sure?"
"I have a feeling. Usually my feelings are on-the-mark when it comes to spells."
"Do you feel' that she killed him?"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. She's seen the real him. What happens next is up to her."
"What if it backfired and he killed her?"
"She's still alive. I checked. Assuming she does turn on him, what next? I don't think the other girls will welcome her in Rome."
"Especially the ones with shattered knee caps. She'll stay put. I'll flight out and talk to her."
"That'll put you awfully close to you-know-who."
"Maybe, while I'm in the neighborhood, I can give him a chance to explain himself."
"He's not evil, Buffy."
"I know. There's context and, funky alliances of convenience. Like I said, I'll give him a chance."
At their Monday morning meeting, Angel notices Gunn's right arm is in a sling and Wesley's using crutches. "What happened," he asks with concern. "Trouble in Vegas?"
"Vegas was already taken care of," Gunn notes with mild frustration. "Three guesses who."
"How?"
"Apparently Devlin's infiltration of this firm is more widespread than previously thought," Wes reports with more-than-mild frustration. "This morning, I'm having everyone in my unit sing for Lorne."
"Why would anyone risk their job – their life – for that . . . boy?"
"He's probably not the only one they share information with."
"So the injuries?"
"Phoenix," Gunn replies.
"You told me you didn't need backup," Angel reminds Wesley.
"We didn't. At least not for the vampires."
Gunn and Wesley crouch outside a gated McMansion in the Phoenix suburbs. With their weapons on their backs, they scale an eight foot-high metal fence. Wesley has the slightly more difficult time of it. A human security guard walks over to check out the noise. He sees two human figures, but before he can radio that there are intruders on the property, Wesley shoots him in the neck with a tranquilizer dart. He drops the pistol and they continue on to the house fifty yards ahead. "Look at this lawn," Wesley whispers. "Full. Lush. And in the middle of the desert."
"Keeping up appearances."
"And these floral arrangements," he marvels as they close in on the house.
"Guess Angel's not the only vamp who watches Home and Garden," Gunn quips.
"We've been thinking about a down payment on a house," Wes confesses, revealing where his interest comes from.
"You and Fred?"
"With our combined salaries, we can certainly afford something in a nice neighborhood. Not Brentwood nice. But perhaps Baldwin Park. Or San Marino."
"How bout we discuss this after the bad guys are dead?," Gunn suggests as they crouch in the bushes along the right side of the house. Wes peaks through a window.
"There here is." Gunn also takes a look.
"Makin' some sort of deal."
"He walks out, we walk in?"
"I got the front. You get the back."
"Shouldn't we stick together?"
"I get their attention, you take 'em by surprise. Or vice-versa."
"What if there's not a door in back?"
"Blow a hole in a window. You didn't lug that piece all the way from LA to kill vamps. Might as well do some good." They split up. Gunn crouches to the left of the porch, and grabs a small stone. When the "client" leaves, he reaches up and places the stone in the doorway so it doesn't close. When the guard inside bends down to see and remove the obstruction, Gunn runs up the stairs onto the porch and kicks open the door, hitting the guard in the nose. He enters, holding out his crossbow. To his left, in a grand hall thirty feet long and twenty feet wide, two vampires put their hands halfway up. Raul, who is bigger than the other two (and also bigger than Gunn), chuckles. The man guarding the door, who appears to be human, grabs his nose and backs up.
"One arrow, four of us," Raul notes. He's wearing a double-breasted burgundy suit with a black silk shirt, buttoned to the top, with no tie. Gunn aims at his chest. "Something tells me you're not going to fire."
"Not yet." A guard at the back door turns around and opens the door to see what the commotion is. Wesley comes at him from behind and beheads the vampire with an ax.
"You're not alone," Raul says to Gunn. "When's your backup coming in through the skylight?," he jokes, pointing upward.
Wes walks through the kitchen, into the dining room and throws the ax through the long hall and into the thick wooden door. The two vampires to either side glance with alarm to the their right and look at the ax. Raul stays calm. "He's not," Wesley replies. The vampires look their left at the new arrival.
"Oh, that's right," Raul remarks. "I don't have a skylight. I'm a fucking vampire." He laughs. "And you're not." The man with the bloody nose, who stands in front of Raul, reaches into the front of his belt and pulls out two pistols. Gunn hits the deck, and on the way down is winged. Wesley leaps to his right, and is hit in the leg. The gunman rushes into the hall, pointing the pistol in his right hand and Gunn, and the one in his left hand at Wesley. Gunn hides on the other side of the staircase as four bullets whiz by him, two ricocheting off the bannister. He points the other weapon at Wesley, but is hit in the chest by Wesley's saw-off shotgun before he can pull the trigger. Raul watches with dismay as his ace-in-the hole flies back towards the door and falls dead. Gunn stands up, aims and fires his crossbow, dusting the vampire to Raul's right. "What kind of person brings a gun to a vampire fight?," he jokes about Wesley. Raul charges Gunn, while the other vampire goes for Wes. Gunn steps out, grabs the ax from the door, and looks down with dismay at the dead human being at his feet. "That's murder," Raul jokes. He ducks the ax and hits Gunn with a right hook. "THAT'S self-defense." Charles kicks him in the chest.
The other vampire slowly follows the blood trail. Wesley's back is against the wall. He's thrown down the table to protect himself. The vampire picks it up and prepares to smash it down on Wesley. But Wes shoots him in the knees. The vampires screams, drops the table and falls down. Wes crawls over and blows his head off, killing the vampire. Raul, who's grabbed the ax handle and pushed Gunn against the door, hears the two shots. He was trying to choke Charles with the handle, but now spins his opponent around to put him between Raul and the shooter. He looks at the dead man. So does gun, who kicks away one of the pistols. Raul picks the other one up, but Gunn cuts off his hand before he can fire with the ax in his left hand, then swings and beheads the vampire.
Fred, who's already heard the story, takes Wesley's right hand in her left hand when she hears it again and is reminded of how close he came to not making it home. "How did you get to the hospital?," Angel asks.
"Called for an ambulance," Gunn answers.
"What about the police?"
"You'd be amazed how many questions a Wolfram & Hart badge can answer," Wes explains. "Actually, you shouldn't, since you run this place."
"Wolfram & Hart doesn't have a Phoenix office," he reminds them.
"They know about us just the same."
"Is anyone else sick of vampires using firearms?," Angel asks, with an obvious reference to Devlin. Then he thinks back to his previous point. "You break into a home, you kill a man, and they let it slide?"
"He wasn't exactly a good guy to begin with," Wes remarks.
"Still . . . taking a human life. That's not something to be taken lightly."
"I am well aware of that. But it's not like he gave me any choice in the matter."
When the meeting is over, everyone leaves and walk by Harmony's desk. "Good like finding your snitches," Angel says to Wes.
"It's only a matter of time before they're all caught. And dealt with." Harmony gets nervous.
"What's that mean?," Fred asks.
"The status of human employees is deal with by Chester in H.R. Demons who betray the company are summarily executed." Now Harmony's petrified.
"You go get 'em, Wesley!," she offers with a forced smile, trying to show her loyalty. "Loose lips sink ships. And . . . law firms."
"Thank you, Harmony," Wes responds equivocally before leaving.
"Any messages?," Angel asks. Harmony practically jumps out of her chair when she sees him right above her.
"Here." She hands him some notes. "All written down. Just like a good, loyal employee would." He goes back into his office. This wasn't supposed to happen. Devlin never mentioned getting caught. First Alex, now her job. Harmony's world was falling apart. "I hate Mondays," she says to herself.
A little after one in the afternoon, Claire walks in. Harmony's typing and looking at her computer screen. "You missed the meeting, Spikey," Harmony says before looking up. "You're not Spike."
"You noticed," Claire deadpans. "Is he around?" Harmony stands up.
"That depends. Who are you?"
"Claire Fisher. Angel and Spike did a job at my house last week." Harmony slowly walks out from behind her desk and steps up to Claire.
"And what job,' exactly, did you perform to repay him?"
"Look, can you just page him or something?," Claire says condescendingly.
"You don't get to order me around." Harmony goes bumpy. Claire shrieks and quickly backs up. Harmony slowly walks towards her. Claire reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small crucifix she's been carrying since nearly getting killed. "Oh, get over yourself, you scared little girl. I'm not gonna kill you. At least not here." She savors the look of terror in Harmony's eyes, then goes back to her human face. "Can't you take a joke?"
"I sense jealousy."
"On me? Please, if anyone's jealous, it's Spike. He wouldn't be doing you if he wasn't upset about me sleeping with Alex. I get a human, he gets a human. Although I didn't expect him to get one who looks like a lesbian. Not in general, but a certain one in particular. I had no idea Willow was his type."
"Are you Harmony?"
"Spike mentioned me?," Harmony asks, twirling her hair and doing a bad job of appearing disinterested.
"You're the rebound girl, in between Buffy and what's-her-name." Harmony goes bumpy again, and sees Claire tremble.
"I'm sorry. Have I - ?," she feels her face, then goes human. "Silly me, I had no idea. By the way, most of what I did with him was pity sex."
"Why did he pity you?" Harmony laughs.
"I pitied him. Poor Spikey, couldn't fight his enemies. Couldn't even hurt a person. Then there was his whole sad, sick fixation on Buffy. Did he tell you about her?"
"You mean the girl who's missing out? Yeah, he mentioned her." She tries calling Spike again on her cell phone. "You still seem upset. Didn't he break up with you, like, a couple years ago?"
"I broke up with him."
"Another reason why you shouldn't be jealous."
"I am NOT jealous. Just . . . surprised. You know, he's only doing you to get back at me."
"You have someone. Then why are you trying to scare me away?"
"For your own good," Harmony extemporizes. "Things with him don't end well."
"Actually, they usually end spectacularly," Claire replies with a smirk. "That's sorta why I'm here." Ouch. "I think that's your phone ringing," she adds, pointing to Harmony's desk. Harmony snarls and retreats to do her job. Just then Spike arrives. Claire kisses him.
"Got your message. Wut are you doing here?"
"I have two hours to kill before my next class. Oh, and I thought I'd return these." She holds out Spike's handcuffs. He smiles. Harmony rushes over.
"Harm, do you mind?"
"It's okay," Claire tells him. "We've met."
"You have?," Spike asks with worry.
"I said hello, she threatened by life." Spike glares at Harmony.
"No, I didn't."
"Either that, or I really turned her on," Claire jokes.
"As if. I'm not gay. And, if I were, you would so totally not be my type. By the way Spike, where you With Fred?"
"Umm, yeah."
"He has a thing for her."
"Is she the one who tried really hard to give you your body back?," Claire asks, putting her right hand on Spike's stomach.
"Okay Spike. You and Miss Slut-o-rama have fun now." Harmony returns to her desk.
"Don't worry about Harm. She's all bark." That's hypocritical, especially coming from Spike. The two of them walk off. "So Claire, wut did you have in mind?"
"Surprise me."
"We have a dungeon."
Claire appears overwhelmed by the suggestion. "That's a little extreme. "Then again, so's fucking a vampire."
Meg comes downstairs and meets Devlin on the stoop outside her apartment building. She's five-foot-eleven, two inches taller than Dev, powerfully built, with a foot-high red mohawk. She kisses him, wraps her legs around him, and laughs as Dev leaps down to the street. Meg know Dev's not-quite-normal, but doesn't know how not-quite. He's never showed her his other face, and never introduced her to "mom and dad." Dev tugs playfully at her studded collar, she punches him in the face, he puts his left arm around her waist, she puts his right arm around his shoulders, and they walk down the street. Meg has a nose ring connected to the earing in her right earlobe by a chain. Dev treasures his punk Amazon in ways he thinks Spike, with his more restricted, conventional view of beauty, couldn't understand. Spike would probably say Dev's drawn to Meg cause he yearns for a girl to dominate him. Despite this, Dev believes he's rebelling against dad by dating Meg. That's a lot of what attracts her to him.
"How's my guy?"
"Not great."
"Why not?"
"I missed you." She gives him a noogie.
"Sap." She kisses him. "Ya know that's what I dig about you."
"That, and my ability to clear a bar room with my fists."
"Okay, you're a sap who kicks ass. What's on tap, tonight?" He shows her the tickets. "The Ramones! I thought that was sold out?"
"I told you I knew people."
"You're the best."
"Don't I know it." She pushes him out into the street. A car honks its horn and swerves to the left to avoid him.
"Damn! I wanted it to hit you." They both laugh. Early in their relationship, Dev impressed Meg with his ability to play in traffic and take a licking but keep on ticking.
Meanwhile, at CBGB's, the Talking Heads are pounding out the pulsating opening chords of "Psycho Killer." Spike enters through the front door. The doorman says hi, smiles, pats Spike on the back. Of course he doesn't need a ticket. The bartender shakes Spike's hand. As he walks through the club, heads turn to look at him. Several more people rush to greet him and pay their respects. He makes his way to Drusilla, who's swaying to the music. Spike grabs her from behind, bites her neck, licks the blood. She turns and smiles, cuts his cheek, and licks the blood. Then they kiss passionately. If this were anyone other than Spike and Dru someone would have told them to cut it out and get a room. But CBGB's is Spike's room, even when he's not crazy about the band. Hell, he's not here for the band:
"Psycho Killer
Qu'est-ce que c'est?
Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa, fa-fa-fa-far-far better
Run-run-run-run, run-run-run away."
Spike holds Dru from behind and scans the room. A girl in back has promise. She's tall and lanky, with light brown hair and big blue eyes. Maybe a tad awkward, but definitely a looker. "Someone's won a prize at the circus, and the ride's still going. I spilled cotton candy on my dress. Mummy's going to be mad," Dru says, switching from nonsensical glee to nonsensical fear.
"That's nice, doves," Spike offers before approaching the girl, who is being hit on by a guy in his early twenties she obviously doesn't want anything to do with. Spike grabs the earing in the man's left earlobe with his right hand and pulls him away from her. The girl laughs.
"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!," the man complains.
"Maxi, Maxi. When will you ever learn?" Spike tosses Max out the front door and follows him onto the street. Max goes bumpy. Spike does likewise. "Are you actually trying to scare me?," Spike asks with a laugh.
"You can't treat us like this."
"I can treat you and anybody else any bloody way I want to. You know why? Cuz if it wasn't for me, all you wankers would be dead."
"You killed that Slayer two years ago. It's getting old."
"So, apparently, are your come-ons. Do us both a favor and don't come back. Cuz if you do, you're not walking out." Max stares at Spike for a couple seconds, then turns and walks away, fuming all the while.
"Comeuppance!," he yells, raising his right fist. "It's coming! Remember Like a Rolling Stone'!" Spike returns to his human face and chuckles. He never was much of a Dylan fan. Besides, he could never become the poor sap in that song who goes from being feared by all to being powerless, alone and hungry. Actually, he's always hungry, but never has a problem satiating himself. Spike returns to the club, and to the girl.
"Sorry about that."
"Thanks," she replies with a smile.
"I'm Spike."
"Alexa." He takes her right hand and kisses it, a corny gesture she wanted to scoff at before looking into his eyes. She laughs nervously.
"He's a real creep. Hope he didn't upset you."
"No. It was funny the way you pulled him away. That was cool." Spike can hear her heart rate quickening. Very good sign. All the punks Alexa had meant were gross. But Spike wasn't gross. He was cute. Hot, even. And exotic. Definitely nothing like any of the guys in Montclair.
"I bet a pretty girl like you gets hit on by wankers like him all the time." Alexa pauses. She doesn't know what a "wanker" is. But Spike is definitely paying her a compliment.
"Sure," she replies sarcastically. "I gotta beat them off with a stick."
"You'll find a mace works much better." She laughs.
"You're funny." Actually, he was being quite serious. "You're name's funny, too."
"My mum called me William. Spike seemed to have a little extra kick to it. Don't you think?"
"Yeah," she replies, trying to remember to breathe. "I, I suppose. It's cool. And, and you're cool." Spike smiles.
"You have no idea." He walks away. Alexa stares at him as he walks through the crowd towards Drusilla. She gets a little disappointed when she sees them get close. Alexa's two friends come up to her. The band starts playing "Memories Can't Wait."
"Who's the boy?," Jackie asks.
"Lex has got a crush, Lex has got a crush," Tammy sings.
"Shut up. He's not a boy. And he's, like, totally older and, we weren't even flirting. He was just being a nice guy."
"I like the blonde," Spike says to Dru.
"Oiyes on the proize, my sweet."
"You think Alexa's worth it?"
"Little darling's got the hunger. She'll make a fine addition."
"You said that last time. I'd hate to see another pretty girl lose her scalp." Spike's being disingenuous. While he disapproves of Dev destroying his creations, he likes the sadistic manner in which the boy disposes of unwanted playmates. Though Devlin has so far disappointed Spike with his cold, clinical approach to killing and his need to maintain personal links with humanity, he still has high hopes for the lad.
"They'll be others. The pretty girls awlways fall for you. Just loik Angel." Spike does not like that last line. He pulls Dru's right arm behind her back and twists it.
"Take that back."
"Harder. Harder," she pleads. Spike twists her arm some more. He realizes her remark was probably just an attempt to bait him into hurting her.
"I'm scared," Harmony says to Devlin on the phone when she gets home.
"Those two guys just got transferred. They didn't even get a pay cut."
"I won't be so lucky. I'll get a head cut. As in cut off."
"Relax, Harmony. They're only probing the security and mystical departments. And none of them are gonna flip because none of them know anyone else in the network. You're safe. You're beyond safe. They'll never even get close to you."
"What if I have to sing?"
"You're a crappy singer."
"I am not!"
"I've heard you. You are. And that's a good thing. It makes him less likely to read you. No one likes to listen to bad singers unless they can rip on them on national television. You're safe. Isn't that cool? Don't you love the feeling of getting away with it?"
"I haven't gotten away with it yet."
"But when you do?"
"Okay. You're right. As usual."
"I got another job for you. Don't worry. It's got nothing to do with betraying your boss. I want you to infiltrate the San Diego vamp scene. Or what's left of it."
"Go undercover?"
"Not too undercover. You're a vampire. You work for Wolfram & Hart. I want to exploit that. Word is the vampires down there think I'm one of the good guys. You'll play one of the bad guys. Flash your credentials, and my guess is they'll be eager to get help from the big bad law firm."
"But I can't offer them anything."
"Other than yourself. Let's face it: your hot."
"Thank you. But I'm not sleeping with vampires for you."
"You won't have to. They'll be dead before the week's out. I just need to know locations. Maybe have you lure them into my net. I can pay you for your time, if that's an issue."
"How much?"
"A thousand a vampire." Harmony gasps. "No one's ever said working with me doesn't have its rewards."
Elektra enters a champagne bar to the raunchy chords of Matthew Sweet's "Does She Talk?":
"She's just your size, she's sexy, she's beautiful, does she talk?
She's just your size, she's sexy, she's beautiful, does she talk?
Cause man you can't teach a slithering snake how to walk.
"Did she lick your palm to tell you your fortune tonight?
Did she lick your palm to tell you your fortune tonight?
You know sometimes it just isn't worth putting up a fight."
She struts towards the bar, all glammed out: bright red lipstick, blue eyeshadow, mascara, curled hair that makes her look like she's out of film noir, a short, low-cut red dress, red stiletto heels, and a red handbag. To a trained eye, she looks like a predator. To the untrained eye, she looks like the prey. A handsome man in early middle age spins round in his leather-cushioned bar stool and smiles. Elektra smiles back, reaches her right hand out and grabs a cocktail umbrella that she starts twirling. "Hi there," he says.
"Hi yourself. You in the business?"
"Which business would that be?" He thinks she's an escort. She'll make him pay for that.
"The only one in this town."
"I'm the Vice-President of productions over at Universal."
"You and a hundred other schlubs. I may be young, but I'm not naive."
"I never thought you were. Do you have an agent?"
"Yeah. He can't find me anything."
"I find that hard to believe. You radiate star quality."
"Just one big break and I'll be the next Scarletta Johansen. Heard it all before."
"The key is knowing the right people."
"And you're one of them?," she asks doubtfully.
"Why don't you ask - . . . " And so he begins name-dropping, and Elektra begins pretending to be impressed. A little over an hour later, he's driving her back to his Malibu home. While most other vampires treasured innocence in their victims, Elektra preferred depravity. The best part was, the victims selected themselves. Any guy eager and willing to take advantage of the ingenue Elektra pretended to be deserved to have the tables turned on him.
"This is nice!," she marvels. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Where do you live?"
"I share a motel room in North Hollywood with two other girls. I'd hardly call it living." She grabs his shirt, pulls him close, kisses him and smiles. He also smiles.
"Would you like to come upstairs?" She raises her eyebrows to show eagerness.
"Okay." In his bedroom, they kiss a little while longer, he puts his right hand up her thigh, and she unzips his pants and licks her lips. "Close your eyes. No peaking," she adds playfully, running her left hand through his hair and her right hand down his chest. He starts to tremble with anticipation. Elektra grabs hold with her right hand.
"Oh . . . oh yeah . . . oh, yeah." Elektra goes bumpy. "That's good. Oh, Ow, Ow!! Aigh!!!" She bites the right side of his neck and quickly drains him, dropping his corpse on the bed, face up.
"I'm seventeen, you're forty five! Creep." She goes through his pants pockets, takes his money, a few of his credit cards, and his car keys, then walks downstairs, sits on his couch and watches some tv. A slow, boring night. But things were about to get a lot more interesting.
NEXT: Elektra goes after Devlin, Spike and Angel, each in a very different way.