Chapter Five

Best Laid Plans

Conversation concerning Richard Wilkins's visit had been ongoing in earnest for some time when a bedraggled, teenage Buffy with damp, stringy hair swung open the door to Moonridge Investigation's lobby and stepped inside. She was taken aback by the sight of nearly everyone she knew in the entire universe staring back at her.

"Buffy," Giles said, his voice heavy with concern. "We've been trying to reach you for nearly a day now. Are you alright?"

"She seems fine," the seated Buffy interrupted. "Though I can't say much for the look."

"That Hellspot we talked about yesterday?" the younger Buffy asked Giles. "Remember?"

Giles nodded. "I remember. What about it?"

"The Vesparis hive is destroyed and I'm pretty sure the Hellspot is buried beneath a mountain of rubble." She waited to see how he would react. She hoped for praise but would settle for a lack of anger.

"You cleared a Vesparis hive by yourself?" Angel asked as he blinked in surprise. "That's impressive."

"They're not so tough," the seated Buffy disagreed. "I dealt with those wasp-y creepy crawlies once upon a time then had to take quiz in trig the next morning. And I got an A-."

Buffy tried to ignore the squishing of her still-damp sneakers as she responded, "I had to spend the night in one of their cocoon caves."

"By yourself?" Xander asked.

Buffy acted as though she hadn't heard the query.

I think I'll ignore that question.

Giles fixed his young protégé with a concerned expression. "I'm glad you're alive. There are many things I could say about your recent endeavor, but I'll leave it at that for now."

His face, however, indicated quite clearly that they would have much to discuss later.

Faith once again stood up.

"I'm not sure what I expected, but you really are Buffy," Faith said with a smile as she walked over and extended her hand. "I'm Faith. You don't remember me, like, at all, right?"

Buffy returned the handshake. "We've never met. In fact, this is the first time I've met a slayer who isn't … well … me. I never thought it would happen in my life."

Faith laughed warmly, and Buffy decided, even though they'd just met for the first time, that she liked her.

Faith returned to her chair and thoughtfully glanced around. "Doesn't two Buffys get confusing? What about Buffy, Jr.? Little Buffy?" She snapped her fingers. "I've got it, Baby Buffy!"

One Buffy laughed while the other groaned.

Faith snapped her fingers again. "I'll call you Cleveland."

"I wish you wouldn't," Buffy replied immediately.

"One more question," Giles said, "while I will admit Spike's location does not represent a particularly pressing concern, where is he?"

"Don't know, don't care," the younger Buffy responded flatly. For the briefest of moments, she thought she saw Angel start to smile. "We might not be seeing Spike again for a while. Or ever."

"Maybe for the best," Xander said.

"Xander," Willow scolded him.

Oz shrugged. "I'm with Xander on this one."

"Suits me just fine," the older Buffy said.

Buffy leaned against the door and surveyed the packed lobby. "Now that I've caught you all up on how I spent the last twenty-four hours, how about you fill me in on what's going on here? Seems like it's slayer business."

Buffy cleared her throat and affected a serious expression as she stared towards at her younger counterpart. "Now, less-experienced me, take a seat and hear all about the charming tale of Mayor Richard Wilkins."

"I thought he was dead."

"So did we," Angel replied.

. . . . . . . . .

When Buffy, with the occasional assistance of others, had finished, the youngest of their number stared in shocked silence at them.

"That's a hell of a story. All of that really happened?"

"Sometimes I ask that myself," Willow admitted, "it kind of doesn't feel real."

"What does feel real," Oz said he raised himself off the couch, "is that I need to open the store." He glanced down at Willow. "Catch up with me later?"

She smiled and nodded. "Absolutely."

Oz leaned down to kiss her forehead, then excused himself and stepped outside.

"The shop?" Faith asked. "Bully for capitalism, and all of that, but isn't this kind of a 'shut down everything till we figure it out' kind of situation?"

"Faith, that's not fair," Willow said. "Oz and I have responsibilities."

"Oz and Willow aren't going to be duking it out anymore," Buffy reminded Faith. "They'll help when they can, but Willow has to protect that baby bump."

"Hey!" Willow complained. "I am not showing yet."

Faith held up her hands. "Fair enough. Sorry I said anything."

"Will, the offer is still open to helping you and Oz out if you want to lay low for a bit," Xander interjected. "If Buffy could always take Giles's money, I see no reason why you can't take mine."

"Xander!" Buffy screeched. "I was a kid!"

"It's a fair point," Giles mused.

"Thanks, Xander, but we couldn't," Willow said with a quick shake of her head.

"We know what Richard Wilkins is capable of," Angel remarked as he attempted to steer the conversation back on topic, "now we need to talk about Joshua. Giles, Willow, I've read just about everything on vampires there is to read, plus I lived the vamp life for hundreds of years. I've never heard of a slayer being turned, not even in legend."

"The reason you haven't heard of a vampire-slayer hybrid is because everyone, including the Watchers Council, believed it to be impossible," Giles explained. "The slayer line was born of dark magic, true, but that magic was created to fight vampires."

"Well, as usual, the Watchers were dead wrong," Buffy replied angrily.

Giles continued, "It's not as though the creation of such a creature hasn't been tried, of course. Throughout the history of humanity there has been no shortage of wicked folks willing to experiment in such areas, but all their efforts failed. When vampires attempt to turn a slayer, the slayer doesn't become a vampire … they die. Slayer magic has always been considered antithetical to vampirism."

"Joshua does tend to break a lot of slayer-related rules," Willow pointed out. "Maybe he was strong enough to survive the turn?"

"And now he's muscle for our former Mayor," Buffy said gloomily. "I'm thinking whatever we plan on doing, at some point we're going to need to take him out."

"Buff, he looks like he's in high school," Willow objected.

"Maybe," Angel conceded, "but he hits like a freight train."

"Shouldn't we be focusing on one question?" Xander interjected. "How do we kill this … what do we even call it?"

"Slaypire?" Buffy suggested. "You know, a portma … a mashup … of slayer and vampire."

"Slaypire?" Angel said dismissively. "That sounds silly."

Willow nodded thoughtfully. "Slaypire, I like it."

"Okay, fine, slaypire, how do we kill it?" Xander asked again.

Giles removed his glasses and chewed upon the end of one of the arms. "I can conceive of few opponents that would be more physically fearsome than, to use Buffy's term, a slaypire. The slayer's already superhuman reflexes, regenerative capacity, strength, speed, and perception would be amplified by the turn, and the resulting creature would likely exhibit a slayer's resistance to demonic powers and magic. I imagine it would also be partially, or perhaps fully, immune to many of the traditional vampire weaknesses."

"So, chopping their noggins off wouldn't work?" Xander asked.

Giles shook his head. "Well, decapitation generally is fatal for nearly every species, so maybe not that particular weakness. But holy water, crosses, possibly even sunlight, the slaypire would undoubtedly possess a certain degree of resistance to all of them."

"I think we're going to need help," Willow suggested. "Even if we don't move against the ex-mayor right away, Moonridge already had more demons than we could handle weeks ago."

"Who?" Angel asked.

"Anyone we can think of," Buffy replied. "And if possible, we'll need them to stay in town a while. If we can't fight Wilkins directly right now, we'll have to come at him from different angles." She pointed at Faith and her younger self. "Every vampire we dust on patrol, every demon who sees a slayer and leaves town, that's one less possible ally for Richard Wilkins."

"Patrols, got it," Anyaverse Buffy replied.

Giles was surprised that he detected a note of enthusiasm in her voice.

"Patrols are great, B," Faith pointed out, "but last time we tried to come at the mayor, he had an army of henchdemons and a police force at his beck and call." She stared at Buffy. "I'm hoping you suggest it so that I don't have to."

Buffy sighed. "Call any slayers you can think of. We need them."

"I know a few that wouldn't mind, too much, working with you," Faith replied. "I can try a couple others, but you've burned a lot of bridges."

"I can contact the Watchers Council," Giles added, "although I wanted to discuss it with all of you first. I certainly recall the dreadful story of Robin Hallett's pregnancy, and of course we've had our own issues with the Council over the years, but Andrew, at least, can be trusted."

"Just Andrew," Buffy cautioned him. "The Council will find some way to blame us, like they always do, and then they'll make a nuisance of themselves without actually helping, like they always do."

"Mayor Wilkins being here is kind of our fault, Buff," Willow reminded them.

Buffy grimaced but did not otherwise respond.

"Unless there are any objections, I'm going to ask Connor to make the trip," Angel said.

No one objected, but nobody voiced any particular enthusiasm towards seeing Angel's son again.

Angel cleared his throat, then continued, "And if he thinks he can control them, I'm going to see if Connor can bring some of his Cult of Ul-thar followers."

The room exploded with objections, arguments, and a few epithets.

"Angel, you can't be serious," Giles announced. "I know Connor says they're under control, and I admit that he's used them with a certain degree of effectiveness to fight the good fight … in his own way … but a vampire cult is just as likely to fall under the sway of Richard Wilkins as they are to stay loyal to your son."

Willow raised her hand. "And, being vamps, they're just plain creepy and awful, and we don't want them around."

"Hey!" Angel protested.

Willow winced at her choice of words. "Sorry."

"An expression about fighting fire with fire comes to mind," Xander said. "Can we really afford to turn away allies, even if they're, as Will put it, creepy and awful?"

The room fell silent, and Angel finally turned to Buffy. "Your call."

Buffy nodded. "If Connor thinks he can control his Ul-thar zealots, fine."

"I mean, if nothing else, we can maybe get rid of most of them once and for all," Xander suggested.

Angel glowered at Xander. "Hey, they're vampires, true, but they're also maniacally obsessed with protecting my son. And …" he scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Connor seems to think that they may soon include Spike and I in their pantheon, which means they would start taking orders from us, too."

"Why?" Willow asked.

"They call us 'vampire-born' and 'miracle children,'" Angel explained, "and the fact that there are now three of us means that they consider the time of their evolution, or something like that, to be near at hand." Upon seeing confused glances around the room, he shrugged. "Hey, I didn't come up with this stuff."

"Well, they'll make for good cannon fodder," Xander observed as he leaned back in the couch.

"I never really wanted this life for Connor," Angel admitted, "but he took it upon himself anyway."

"At least he did a pretty good job keeping his adopted parents out of it," Xander replied. Upon seeing stony stares, Xander hurriedly continued, "no offense, Angel. I know Connor's adoption might be a touchy topic."

Angel shook his head. "I've got nothing but gratitude towards them. I was in no position to fight a war in L.A. and raise Connor."

"Not to mention you were busy running a demonic law firm," Buffy observed.

"Would you please let that go!" Angel snapped.

Buffy looked at Willow. "You can help Giles with the research, right?"

Willow nodded. "Absolutely.

"I mean, research and patrols is a plan, for now," Faith said, "but when we get Connor and a few more slayers here, we should re-evaluate this whole truce deal."

"Faith, we don't need a bunch of rogue slayers causing a war with Wolfram & Hart," Angel admonished her.

Faith appeared unconvinced.

Buffy continued, "And I'm going to try to hit Richard Wilkins where it really hurts."

The room fell silent.

"You?" Faith asked with a dubious expression on her face, and a decided lack of tact in her inflection. She stood up, walked over to Buffy, and with a darting motion too fast for a human eye to follow, flicked Buffy in the ear.

"Hey!" Buffy protested as she reached up and rubbed her injured earlobe. "That hurt!"

"You didn't even see it coming, did you?" Faith asked as she looked around the room. "Why do I have to be one to say this? Buffy isn't a slayer anymore." She looked at Angel. "Mayor Wilkins may be a complete asshole, but he had a point about Buffy taking it easy."

"Faith," Angel said, "knock that off."

Faith shrugged and sat down, while Buffy glared at her angrily. "I wasn't talking about a fistfight, I'm talking about really putting a fly in his ointment."

Giles looked at her thoughtfully. "What do you mean, Buffy?"

"Mayor Ritter is dead for a reason," Buffy explained. "Richard Wilkins is running for mayor for a reason. He said it himself, he has big plans for Moonridge, and they're somehow tied up with his election. We can't let him win."

"Find another candidate?" Willow asked. "Is anyone else even running?"

Buffy smiled. "Absolutely. Me."

Everyone exchanged confused glances.

"Have I ever run for office before? Or won?" the younger Buffy asked.

"Class President," Xander replied. "It was a shit show."

"Hey!" Buffy protested. "This won't be like that, I'm a lot older and smarter now. Plus, I know about all the skeletons in my opponent's closet. I'll expose him, and win, without ever needing a stake." She smiled confidently.

"You've got skeletons in your closet, too, Buffy," Willow pointed out.

The smile vanished from Buffy's face. "Guys, I'm not feeling the love."

"Worth a shot," Faith said. "I mean, it's not like you're going to be out slaying vampires, right?"

Buffy gritted her teeth but didn't reply.

"Won't this really piss Wilkins off?" Xander asked.

"I think Buffy is counting on that," Angel replied. He considered objecting, but at least this was a non-violent outlet for Buffy. "If nothing else, it should distract him."

"Gee, thanks for the support, honey," Buffy said as she fixed him with an icy glare. "Look, we're coming at Wilkins from all sides, remember? Someone needs to do it, and the rest of you are either busy slaying or busy working."

Giles rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Buffy's idea caught me off guard, but it does possess a certain degree of elegance. We long suspected that Richard Wilkins was drawing power not only from his position as mayor in a prosaic sense, but also mystically, as well."

"Giles and I had a hunch that the elections were fueling his magic," Willow explained. "We were going to look into it, but then he turned into a big ol' demon and died."

"I think Buffy can win," Xander announced. "Good for you, Buff."

Buffy grinned. "Thanks, Xander." She looked around the room. "I'll start grabbing all the election materials and figure out what I have to do to get on the ballot."

"Do you have any idea how to run a campaign, Buffy?" Angel asked. "Any idea at all?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes as she frostily replied, "It's the first of May and the election isn't until November; I've got plenty of time to figure it out."

Everyone braced in shock when the lobby door swung open again; Buffy stepped out of the way as Emmy stepped inside. Emmy, upon seeing the stares in her direction, self-consciously glanced down at her white shorts, purple top, and sandals. "Is it something I'm wearing?"

"No, no," Xander said quickly as he stood up. "We were just worried it was someone else, is all."

"It's just me," Emmy said with a warm smile. "Xander, I thought you'd be at the house, but when I couldn't find you, or reach you by cell, I figured I'd try your office. Are you already packed?"

Xander blinked in confusion. "Packed?"

The smile drained from Emmy's face. "You've got that appointment in a few days with Dr. Hu, and we were going to spend the rest of the week at my apartment." She crossed her arms and fixed him with a disappointed scowl. "You forgot."

"Maybe we should give you guys the room," Angel suggested.

Xander shook his head vigorously. "No, I didn't forget, I just got distracted." He looked at Buffy. "Buff, I've got an eye related doctor visit I need to go deal with. Since it looks like we won't be duking it out with the bad guys this afternoon, will you guys be okay without me for a couple days? Three at the most?"

"Sure," Buffy replied.

"I think we can manage in your absence," Giles replied drily. "But given this development, can I take it that your symptoms have increased?"

Xander considered the question. "More like, settled into an uncomfortable status quo."

"What's the deal with Xander's eye?" Faith asked.

Xander joined Emmy by the door. "Buffy can explain, I've got to go." He gave Emmy a light peck on the cheek before they stepped outside.

Buffy looked around the room. "Let's get to work."

. . . . . . . . .

"Will you talk to me, please," Xander pled as he walked with Emmy towards the front door of his home. "I'm telling you, this Mayor Richard Wilkins is really bad news, it isn't just another random vampire or weird cult, he is really the stuff of nightmares."

Emmy stopped and stared at him.

"You promised you would see Dr. Hu," she admonished him. "If I hadn't reminded you, you'd have forgotten entirely."

"I'm going, aren't I?" Xander protested. He could feel heat rising in the side of his face as his frustration grew.

I shouldn't get angry. She's right.

Nevertheless, he found himself struggling with his temper. "You know I'm leaving everyone to fend for themselves to go to this appointment, right?" he snarled.

Emmy recoiled from him.

He gathered himself, raised his hands, and lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little on edge."

Thankfully, she reached out to take his hand. "Okay, I get it." She nodded. "You're worried. That I can understand. Just remember, all of your friends are kind of like superheroes, they'll be fine."

"Superheroes?" Xander asked. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

Emmy nodded in excitement. "I should show you some of the comic art that the apocalytes posted online … we're talking dialogue bubbles, capes, and overly complicated storylines … the works!"

"Superheroes …" Xander mused as his face erupted into an enormous grin. "I like the sound of that."

And I'm about to visit a doctor who might take it all away.

His grin vanished.

. . . . . . . . .

"I appreciate the ride," Buffy said as she shifted her hips on the now-damp sweater Giles had laid on the passenger seat prior. "It was a long walk."

Giles did not take his eyes from the road as he replied, "Is Spike alive?"

Buffy stared at him in shock. "Of course, he's alive, why would you ask that?"

"You two left together, but you came back alone, and I couldn't help but notice that you didn't mention his involvement, if any, with the Vesparis hive."

"Spike's alive."

Giles nodded. "I thought so, but I wanted to be sure."

"I would have said something if he was dead, or dead again, I guess," Buffy said in a tone she hoped didn't sound overly defensive. "Spike's just, well …" she searched for the right words.

"You had a fight," Giles guessed.

She bit down the snappish, rude reply that was forming on her tongue, and forced herself to relax. It was a fair question. "We did, yeah."

For the first time since Giles had pulled his stately, dark green, mid-nineties Jaguar away from Moonridge Investigations' parking lot, he glanced over at her. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"Maybe," she said indifferently as she screamed an internal thanks at Giles refraining from prying. Buffy decided an attempt to change the subject was in order. "What now? Patrol as normal tonight? Maybe after a shower and a nap?"

"Yes," Giles replied. "We'll have to coordinate with Faith, of course, but Buffy was quite right, every vampire or demon we eliminate is one less possible ally for Richard Wilkins to exploit. Meanwhile, I'm going to try to find all of my old research material on our former mayor. He appears to have reformed his power base in an astonishingly short amount of time, and that means magic. If we can figure out how he's empowering his operations, we can figure out how to stop him."

"More slayers in town … that will be weird," Buffy admitted.

Giles chuckled briefly before replying. "It will indeed. Why, I haven't worked with a slayer besides Buffy or Faith in over a decade."

She caught his slip of the tongue almost immediately. "Besides me, right?"

Giles flinched at the question, but quickly recovered. "Yes, of course, my apologies. I should take care not to lump the two of you together for the sake of linguistic convenience."

"Don't you think this Wilkins character is going to have the exact same plan he had last time?"

Giles shook his head. "He can't."

"Why not? Was the snake-demon spell a one-time thing?"

"Precisely. The Ascension of Richard Wilkins into the elder demon Olvikan had a specific window … a time and date, and it's long passed. I suspect that whatever new goal motivates him now, the election ties into it in some manner."

"Do you think Buffy can win?"

The sight of Giles struggling to find the words for a suitable reply was so unexpected that she almost didn't recognize the expression.

"I would never, ever, count out Buffy Summers when she's determined about something." He glanced at her again, then turned his eyes back to the road. "Either of the Buffy Summers I know."

That wasn't a yes.

. . . . . . . . .

"Faith isn't interested in helping with the election, so what do you want me to say?" Buffy asked Angel, hands on hips, determined look firmly fixed upon her face. "Moonridge Investigations is as good a place as any for her to lend a hand."

"Buffy, just because Faith isn't going to be helping you and Willow doesn't mean she needs to be underfoot at the office all the time."

Buffy shrugged, sat down on their couch, and kicked her shoes into the corner. "You could have just told her no."

"That seemed like something she should hear from a fellow slayer!" Angel protested as he hung his coat on a peg by the door and removed his own shoes. "

Buffy laid down upon the couch, propped a pillow beneath her head, and stared up at the bottom of the loft in which her training equipment and weapons were slowly accumulating dust. "Fellow slayer? I'm not a slayer anymore, remember?"

Angel winced. "Sorry, Buffy."

"No biggie. I forget sometimes myself, at least until a particularly demonic jar of pickles refuses to open no matter how hard I twist." She held up a finger as if a sudden thought had occurred to her. "Maybe you could have said something like this: 'Faith, I know you're all about the patrolling and the crimefighting, but just like I told the love of my life that I wasn't interested in her working alongside me, I'm telling you the same thing.'"

"Hey!" Angel howled. "I did not tell you I wasn't interested! We were still discussing it."

Buffy sniffed demonstratively as she closed her eyes. "Congrats, you delayed long enough for me to have found a different calling. Politics."

"Yeah, about the election for mayor, Buffy …" Angel said as he lifted her legs and sat down on the couch. Before he could rest her feet on his lap, Buffy sat upright.

"What about the election, Angel?" she murmured through gritted teeth. "And if the next words out of your mouth aren't to tell me you that believe in me, you can just go ahead and toss in the trash that box of very not-Halloween-appropriate costumes hidden in the back of the closet. Considering that you seem to have enjoyed me modeling some of those outfits from time to time, consider your next sentence very carefully."

Angel found himself stammering as he attempted to formulate a reply.

Buffy abruptly stood, walked into the kitchen, and retrieved a half-filled bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. She grabbed the glass she'd left in the sink the night before, filled it, then fixed Angel with a baleful stare.

Angel hastily moved to join her in the kitchen. He could feel her back stiffen as he wrapped her in an embrace and held her close. "Of course, I believe in you," he assured her softly. He could feel some, but not all, of the tension dissolve from her frame.

"And?"

He blinked in confusion. "And what?"

"Oh, I know there's more."

Angel stepped away from Buffy and poured himself a glass of the wine. The tart oak was bracing, and the crisp flavor of apple lingered on the tongue. Alcohol, in particular, was almost overpoweringly strong to his newly alive tastebuds. He wondered if he would ever get completely used to being alive.

"Still waiting," Buffy reminded him.

"It's just …" he began

Buffy smacked her hand on the countertop. "I knew it! You don't want me doing this, do you?"

"It's not that," Angel protested. "I just worry."

"Well, stop that," Buffy said as she finished her wine in one swift gulp. "I've adjusted to my new reality, I've caught up on all the television I missed in the twenty-first century, and I'm doing this. I need you to have my back."

Angel was about to continue, but then he looked at Buffy … really looked at her. Even though her eyes were still flashing warning daggers in his direction, they were twinkling and sparkling as well. She seemed more alive than she had in weeks.

Does … does she actually need this? The excitement, the danger?

He decided that it was just an election. Not a vampire nest, not a demon lord, an election. If Richard Wilkins had wanted to fight openly, they'd be fighting already.

"You know," he said as he rapped his knuckles on the counter. "You're right. This is a good idea, and if anyone should be mayor, it's you." He gestured towards Buffy's beaming countenance. "You've got a face that's perfect for primetime television, plus who … literally who .. has done more for these people than you have?"

"Awww … that's more like it," Buffy said as she snuggled in close against his chest. "Now that you've found your electoral spirit, I've got two favors to ask."

"What did you need Buffy," Angel asked he luxuriated in the feel of her blonde tresses against his neck and chin.

"First, I need a ride to Willow's shop tomorrow morning."

He nodded. "Sure, I'll drop you off on my way to the office." He considered the request for a moment. "But why Willow's shop?"

"She promised to help me print up signature pages and candidacy forms. I guess the shop will be kind of like my election homebase."

"That's nice of Willow."

Buffy nodded. "I thought so."

"What kind of signature pages do you need?"

"Apparently since I don't have an endorsement from a registered political party, I need folks to put me on the ballot."

"How many signatures?" Angel asked.

"A thousand."

Angel hid his surprise at the size of the number, then kissed the top of her head. "You said you needed two favors, what's the second?"

She nestled closer against his chest. "It's a big one."

"I'm listening …" he said as he ran a finger along her neck and down her shoulder.

"I could really use a back rub."

He moved away and refilled his wine glass. "Sure," he replied with a smile.

. . . . . . . . .

The next morning found Angel and Buffy in a reasonably optimistic mood, and holding hands, as Angel navigated his black sedan towards the Spirit Square.

"You sure you're not going to be lonely all by yourself with Xander out of town?" Buffy asked.

"Faith said she's dropping by, remember?" Angel reminded her. He sounded decidedly unenthusiastic at the notion.

Buffy shuddered. "I keep thinking of Faith and Xander."

"Try not to," Angel recommended as he parked into the Spirit Square's parking lot and maneuvered into a spot. He rolled down the window and waved at Oz and Willow, both of whom were visible inside. They returned the gesture.

As she reached for the car door, Buffy recalled how many weeks it had taken for her to stop reacting with panic whenever Angel stepped into sunlight. For some reason, he had gotten used to his being alive before she had. It still startled her when the touch of his lips or the rasp of his tongue were warm against her skin.

Last night he had been very warm.

Shaking off the pleasant memories, she stepped out of the car. "Pick me up when you're done?" she asked.

"Absolutely," Angel said with a smile as he pulled away.

Time to get to work.

Buffy walked past the rainbow hued neon sign of the Spirit Square and stepped inside. The warm interior and its neatly ordered rows of books, magical paraphernalia, and knickknacks of all types awakened nostalgia within her. Whether consciously or subconsciously, Willow had managed to recapture the glowing, comfortable feeling of the haunts they'd frequented in decades past.

"Morning Buff," Oz said cheerfully as he handed her a cup of coffee.

"Oh, thank you Oz," Buffy said with eyes half-closed in bliss as she took a sip. "Angel can't make coffee worth a damn; he says it's because he got used to needing it super strong in order to taste it at all."

"No problem," Oz said.

Willow gestured for Buffy to follow her into the backroom. To her surprise, Buffy found the space to be packed nearly floor to ceiling with neatly labeled boxes, packing crates, and what appeared to resemble treasure chests of some sort.

"Wow, Will," Buffy said as she looked around. "When you guys said business was picking up, you weren't kidding."

"Oh Buff, it's been amazing!" Willow said enthusiastically. A second later, her face fell. "Except, of course, the Spirit Square is busy because there's been a bunch more vamps and dangerous demons in town." The smile returned. "But we did manage to pay off the car."

"That's great," Buffy said as she sat down at a square table centered in the room. "I was doing some checking online, and I think I know what we need to print out." She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her coat pocket and spread it on the table.

Willow proceeded to grab several large banker boxes and place them on the table. They smelled of freshly printed paper. "I hope you don't mind, Buff, but I got a head start."

"You didn't have to do that," Buffy said as she quickly folded the paper she'd brought and jammed it back into her pocket.

Willow pointed at the first box. "Here's all the signature pages we need, along with the affidavits under penalty of perjury and authenticated envelopes for submission." She moved to the next box. "This one has all of the eligibility requirements, election rules, debate forms, and job responsibilities for mayor."

"Wow. Debate forms … I hadn't considered there would be a debate," Buffy admitted as a sinking feel began to grow in her gut.

Willow waved off her concerns. "You've been giving us speeches and pep talks for years. You'll do great." She frowned slightly as she pushed the next box towards Buffy.

"What's in that one?"

Willow's frown intensified. "That's everything I can find on Richard Wilkins's campaign. A printout of his entire website, his campaign platform, his tweets, and transcripts of his youtube video."

"He has all of that already?" Buffy asked as she thumbed through the box.

Willow nodded.

"Find anything incriminating yet?" Buffy asked.

Willow shook her head. "Not yet, but I expect this is going to take some time. Anything he's up to will be hidden, I'm pretty sure."

"Hidden how?"

Willow grabbed a blank piece of paper and a pen. "Let's say you wanted to cast a spell, but you didn't want anyone to be able to read it." She began hastily marking a series of random looking letters on the page. "You couldn't just write it down for anyone to see, you'd have to hide it." She reversed the paper and pushed it in front of Buffy.

Buffy looked down and saw nothing except a grid of letters. After searching for a few moments, she admitted defeat. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

Willow began circling letters on the page. When she was finished, a column of circled letters spelled out H-O-C-U-S-P-O-C-U-S.

Buffy rubbed her eyes as she considered the size of the box. "That's a lot of code-breaking."

Willow nodded. "There are also Youtube videos, Instagram accounts …"

"And Wilkins has probably hidden some sort of evil, awful spell somewhere within all of his campaign material," Buffy said despondently. "Wonderful. Well, we've got time, we'll find it."
"Maybe," Willow said doubtfully. "I think he's cast some sort of spell on the material that makes it difficult to focus. His campaign material just sounds like pleasant gobbledygook unless you really think about it."

"Some sort of anti-concentration spell?"

Willow nodded again. "Exactly."

"But you can break his spell right?" Buffy said without thinking. She caught her mistake immediately. "Sorry, Will, that was thoughtless of me."

Oh, don't worry about it, Buff," Willow reassured her. "If not for Oz reminding me every hour or so, I'd totally forget about the no-casting spells thing."

Oz stuck his head in the door and looked them over. "Thought I heard my name?"

"Oh, nothing," Willow said cheerfully with only a hint of nervousness.

Oz glanced around a few times, then silently retreated.

"Giles is also digging," Willow said, "but you know how he is with computers … I wouldn't hold out hope. I think we're going to have to do it."

Buffy groaned as she eyed the boxes of printouts. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

. . . . . . . . .

When he saw a slim, blonde figure wearing jeans and a tank top through the glass of the Spirit Square's windows, Oz expected the younger Buffy was about to make an entrance, but instead a different, yet also familiar, face appeared as the door swung open.

"Nina," he said simply.

The woman's upturned lips curled into a smile as she approached the register.

"Why do I suspect you aren't shopping for newt eye or moose antler," Oz observed.

"Oz, it's been a while."

"About six months," he answered. "Give or take."

"The group was worried about you, I was passing by, so I figured I'd come down and see if you were okay."

Oz couldn't help but notice that at the sound of Nina's voice, Willow and Buffy had emerged from the storage room.

"Who's your friend, Oz?" Buffy asked.

"And why haven't I had the pleasure of meeting her?" Willow added.

Oz cleared his throat as Nina turned around. "You both have actually met Nina, but it was a while ago, and we were all kind of distracted."

"When?" Willow asked curiously.

Oz hesitated a moment, then continued, "It was that time I fell off the wagon. In terms of wolfing out, I mean."

Willow blinked in surprise. "That was years ago."

Buffy raised a finger. "That time you lost it on the full moon, and we had to stuff you in a cage and take you to some folks who could talk you through it?"

Oz grimaced in embarrassment. "Yeah, that would be the occasion."

"It's nothing to be ashamed about," Nina interrupted. "Oz has done so much to help us learn how to control our wolves, but we all slip up from time to time."

Buffy pointed at Nina, "So you're a …"

"Werewolf," Nina confirmed. "For a long time now. The group meetings really helped me find my inner peace." She smiled at Oz. "Thank you for that."

"So, like, Wolf-aholics-anonymous?" Buffy asked.

"We don't call it that," Oz and Nina replied at the same time.

Willow giggled, then quickly covered her mouth. "Of course, you don't, that would be silly." She ignored Oz's frown and continued, "Just wanted to say hello, you two go ahead and catch up."

Just as she and Buffy were about to return to the storage room, Nina spoke again, "How's Angel doing?"

Buffy blinked a few times in surprise. "Angel? He's fine? Why, I mean, how, do you know Angel?"

Nina sly smile had an air of mystery about it. "We go way back. Haven't seen him in years, but according to the grapevine he's been in Moonridge a long time now."

Buffy knew what the unspoken part of that last sentence was.

He's been in Moonridge a long time with you, Buffy.

Buffy vowed to ask Angel several pointed questions regarding this Nina woman, whose hair color absolutely couldn't be natural, as soon as possible.

"Angel is doing fine," she said sweetly. "He's working right now, but I'll let him know you said hello."

"Thank you," Nina replied. "It was great meeting you both … again."

Buffy smiled as sincerely as she could. "Glad we could catch up. Now if you'll excuse us, we'll be in here."

Nina and Oz smiled as Willow and Buffy retreated into the box-filled room and closed the door behind them.

They both looked at each other for a few long moments before Willow finally spoke.

"Ex of Angel's?" she asked.

Buffy sighed deeply. "Yeah, I was wondering the same thing."

"He's got a type," Willow murmured.

"What was that?"

Willow quickly sat down and grabbed a folder filled with papers. "Nothing."

Buffy joined her at the table and pulled a box closer.

"Buffy," Willow said.

"Willow," Buffy replied.

"There's something we should talk about."

Buffy flipped through the candidacy signature page instructions and absent-mindedly nodded. "Sure. Anything."

"Oz and I received a buy-out offer."

Buffy continued flipping. "A buy-out of what?"

"The store."

Buffy nodded again. "That's awesome." Upon realizing what Willow had just said, she lowered the papers and stared at Willow. "Wait, are you serious?"

Willow pushed a folder across the desk. Buffy opened it and quickly began scanning the contents. One particular portion leapt out at her.

"This is the price?" she said with her jaw agape. "As in, actual money they will pay you?"

Willow looked oddly sad as she replied, "It is indeed. Oz thinks we should take it."

"Well, why wouldn't you?" Buffy asked. "You could reopen a new store after the baby is born."

"We could do that," Willow said delicately. "Or do anything, really."

Buffy got the message immediately. An icy dagger poked at her innards, but she fought it down in an effort to appear demonstratively happy.

"I get it, Will," she said. "I really do. You've gone to the wall and back for me plenty of times. You guys do what's best for you both."

"I wanted to decide after this mayor thing has been dealt with," Willow explained, "but Oz says they're getting a bit antsy."

Buffy continued flipping through the offer. A notation on the final page caught her eye. "Willow," she said as she tapped the paper, "did you see which law firm drew this up?"

Willow shook her head. "I hadn't noticed, why?"

"It's where Dawn's husband works," Buffy replied. "That's weird."

Willow shrugged. "I mean, it's one of the largest firms in town, and this is just a regular old contract, nothing demonic or magical about it. I imagine the prospective buyers used yelp to find an attorney."

Buffy immediately felt her worry evaporate. "Yeah, of course." She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text, then turned back to the election paperwork. "That has to be it."

"Who'd you message, Buff?" Willow asked.

"Angel," Buffy replied. "I'm curious as to how he knows Nina."

. . . . . . . . .

"There was something else I wanted to ask about," Nina said softly to Oz. "I feel kind of silly, but rumors have been flying, and … well … I hope you don't mind if I'm curious."

"What kind of rumors?" Oz asked.

Nina scrutinized him carefully, and Oz was fairly certain from the flare of her nostrils and the rapid expansion of her chest that she was sniffing the air.

"Have you been cured?" she asked. "I don't smell the wolf on you."

Oz stared at her a long time and considered simply asking her to leave. In the end, his loyalty to the group that had helped him during some tough years won out.

"I am," he said simply. "But you can't tell anyone about this." He laid his hands on the cashiering table. "Nina, please. Promise me you won't tell anyone."

She stared at him in confusion. "Why shouldn't I tell anyone? This is amazing. In the beginning, we warn all the new wolves that they need to stop thinking about a cure, that it's impossible, that the false hope will derail their recovery, yet here you are." Nina gestured towards him.

"It was a one-time deal," Oz explained. "A side-effect of a spell we had to use for something important."

"Did you know it was going to happen?" Nina asked.

And if you did, why didn't you tell us? Why are you the only one that gets to enjoy a normal life while the rest of us are scared to have children, of drinking too much at the wrong time of the month, of ripping out the throat of someone we love?

She hadn't said all of that, obviously, but Oz knew it was what she was thinking.

"No," he replied immediately. "There was a battle, and we had to stop something really horrible from happening," he explained. "I was caught in the crossfire, and my lycanthropy went bye-bye."

"At my sister's wedding a few years ago, the reception was on a full moon. I was too frightened to toast her with a glass of champagne. I thought I might lose control," Nina said quietly. "If you could help us, you would, right?"

Oz nodded. "I swear to you, it's not something we could replicate. And Nina, I really need you to promise that you'll keep it secret."

Nina looked away. "Okay. I get it."

"You won't tell anyone?"

She nodded. "I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you."

Nina walked to the front door and swung it open. "Congratulations again. Take care of yourself."
"Thank you, Nina." Oz replied. "You, too."

Nina gestured towards the back room. "Your wife is adorable, by the way. And adorably pregnant. Do you want to know the gender?"

"You always did have a sharper nose than me," Oz replied as he considered the offer. "Sure, why not."

"It's a girl," Nina informed him. She stepped outside and headed for the parking lot.

Oz considered the information, then his face erupted into a wide smile.

. . . . . . . . .

"This is what you do?" Faith asked as she propped her legs up on the receptionist desk and leaned back in the tall swivel chair. "Pore through maps and cross-check files? I figured there'd be femme fatales wandering in periodically, or maybe crooked cops trying to shake you down for favors."

Angel looked up from the map that he'd been working on. "Most detective work is done right here. If I head out that door," he pointed towards the parking lot, "it's with a plan and for a reason."

"Figure out where the mayor is holed up yet?"

"He's at a vineyard here in Moonridge," Angel informed her matter-of-factly. "The one on the western ridge."

Faith swung her feet down. "And how do you know that? Did you slip a tracker on his car? Did an informant clue you in?"

Angel held up a tastefully elegant business card. "He left his calling card along with his letter of representation. I can tell you that I didn't much enjoy my last visit to the Valle dell'Ombra castle, and I'm not looking forward to a repeat of the experience."

"Wait, castle?" Faith said as she blinked. "You don't mean that place Buffy and Andrew were telling me about, with the tunnel to the old Sunnydale High School?"

Angel nodded. "That's the one."

"Holy shit," Faith said as she put her feet back on the reception desk. "I'm sure Wilkins has guards everywhere. Do you think it would be tough to break in?"

Angel raised an eyebrow at her. "Faith, it's a castle. What do you think?"

Faith furrowed her brow and chuckled. "Yeah, I guess they're kind of designed to keep folks out, aren't they? Hopefully Buffy will win that election, so we won't have to."

Angel did not reply, but instead refocused on trying to map productive patrol routes for the other slayers and Connor to follow when they arrived.

Faith, either unaware or uncaring of his attempts to focus on the task at hand, continued. "How long till Xander gets back?"

Angel shrugged. "Xander said he'd be gone the rest of the week, but who knows? If his eye problem is serious, it might be a while."

"What's going on with him anyway?"

"He's been kind of vague about the whole thing. I know that the transplanted eye glows, I can tell you that much."

"Glows?"

"Yup. Glows red."

Faith considered that information for a minute. "Cool."

"Not if it means that he's transforming into something else," Angel pointed out.

"True." Faith snapped her fingers, a gesture that startled Angel. "I almost forgot, while you were making that breakfast burrito run, a gal stopped by looking for you."

Angel noticed his phone buzzing on the coffee table in the center of the room. He grabbed it, read the text from Buffy, then winced.

Nina's in town? And she met Buffy? Great.

As he read the text, he grasped what Faith had just said. "A gal dropped by here? Was she blonde, thin, late thirties but looked younger?"

Faith laughed. "Goddamn Angel, are you predictable. Naw, this gal seemed like she was maybe twenty, brown hair, Latina."

"I think she came by looking for me last month," Angel said. "I missed her then, too. I don't suppose you caught her name?"

"Didn't ask," Faith said absentmindedly as she pulled out her phone and began thumbing the screen.

"Did people forget how to take messages in the twenty-first century, or something?" Angel muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Angel replied. "Speaking of Xander, though …" he fixed Faith with a questioning stare.

"What about him?" Faith asked.

Angel just kept staring at her. "Is it weird staying with him, considering you two have history?"

"It was one time thing, and it was a long time ago."

"Still … Xander?"

Faith shrugged. "What can I say? Slaying had my blood up, he was driving a really cherry convertible, and Xander had a different vibe that night. You're telling me you've never been there?"

"Not with Xander," he replied immediately.

Faith wadded up a piece of paper and tossed it at him. He let it bounce off his forehead and onto the carpet.

"Bite me," Faith said as she clicked her teeth at him.

Angel shook his head. "Sorry Faith, you're about six months too late on that request. I'm out of the biting line of work. I am also sorry to tell you that Xander's Bel Air, what's left of it, is at the bottom of the Sunnydale Crater."

"That sucks. I really liked that car."

"So did Catherine Madison," Kate said as she stepped into the lobby.

Faith swung her legs down and stared over the reception desk. "And who might you be?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," Kate replied as she glared at Angel. "Maybe you'd be more helpful in finding the mayor killer than Angel has been."

"It's only been a couple of days," Angel protested. "And a lot's been going on."

"Save it," Kate snapped. "It's been a long day and I don't need any of your bullshit at the moment."

Faith gestured towards Kate and stepped around the desk. "What the hell, Angel. You going to let her waltz in here and go all Karen on you like that?"

"It's Kate, not Karen," Kate said as she pulled out her wallet and flashed her badge at Faith. "But you can call me Detective Lockley."

"A cop?" Faith asked her face went white. She took a closer look at Kate, and it suddenly dawned on her that they had, in fact, met before ... years ago. Thankfully, the detective didn't seem to remember. Faith retreated behind the desk, sat down, and attempted to vanish.

Kate turned back to Angel. "There's been another murder."

"Was it the mayor?" Faith asked.

"Try to keep up," Kate replied, "the mayor was killed a few days ago."

Faith opened her mouth to explain what she had meant, then thought better of it.

Angel grabbed his coat and keys, then moved towards the door. "I assume we're heading to the crime scene?"

Kate nodded. "You assume right."

"Faith, can you keep an eye on things?" Angel asked. "I'll be back this afternoon."

Faith nodded. "Absolutely. You guys go take care of police business, and I'll stay far away from it."

Angel shot Faith a puzzled glance as he followed Kate outside.

. . . . . . . . .

"I'm still not clear on why you think I knew the victim," Angel asked. "I've certainly never been here before."

The black asphalt of the apartment building combined with the mid-day sun radiated a heat still alien to Angel as he trod alongside Kate. They passed neat rows of shaded car ports until they reached an apartment building with stucco walls and a terra cotta tiled roof.

"Even if you didn't know him," Kate replied, "he definitely knew you."

She flashed her badge at two uniformed officers, then she and Angel stepped into the building and immediately began climbing a carpeted staircase. On the second floor they emerged into a narrow hallway, then Kate led him through the open door of a one-bedroom apartment. The space could barely contain the horde of cops, lab coat wearing technicians, and photographers swarming within. A tall black man in a suit turned around as Kate and Angel entered.

"You again?" Captain Quinn asked as he glowered at Angel. "Detective Lockley, I'm giving your department the courtesy of an independent investigation, but you already wasted my time with this guy a few days ago. Why is he here?"

"Indulge me, Captain," Kate said. "Angel may come across as a jerk, but I still think he can help."

Angel bit his tongue and did his best to affect a demeanor of calm placidity.

Captain Quinn snorted derisively. "Fine." He pointed at Angel. "He touches nothing, or it's your ass."

Kate nodded and beckoned for Angel to follow her.

The white faces, shaking hands, and nervously darting eyes clued Angel in that the bedroom would likely contain the same horror show that he'd seen at Mayor Ritter's house. He steeled himself and entered.

There's no question that it's the same killer. Dismemberment, body parts strung from the ceiling like party decorations, the head positioned so that the eyes are facing you as you enter, the arterial blood spatters that I know from personal experience start spraying when one starts to cut a still-living person apart … at least this time there's no child victims.

He looked away from the corpse and examined the room. The double bed was unmade, a pile of laundry was stacked so deep in the corner that the hamper was almost completely obscured, a bong sat on a low coffee table that was covered in piles of books, and a large desk featured a computer sporting no fewer than three monitors. Angel glanced beneath the desk and spotted a tall PC tower within which bright lights flashed and swirled.

"Any connection to Mayor Ritter or the other victims?" Angel asked as he stooped to read the titles of the numerous volumes lying on the coffee table.

"At least he knows which questions to ask," Captain Quinn tersely informed Kate before heading back to the living room.

"We could only find one connection," Kate said. "Can you guess what it was?"

Angel checked the walls of the room. "I don't see any of my old business cards." He pointed at the books on the coffee table. "But I do see a hell of a lot more literature on the occult, some of it not available in your local Barnes and Nobles, than I'd expect a twenty-something bartender to have lying around."

Kate did a poor job of hiding her surprise. "How'd you know he was a bartender?"

Angel pointed at one particular book. "That barback guide is so dog-eared there's no way it was casual reading for him."

Kate grunted an acknowledgement of his display of deductive reasoning as she walked over to the computer. She pulled a latex glove from her jacket pocket, slipped it on, then with one finger pushed the mouse a few inches. The monitors came to life.

Dutifully, Angel walked over and examined the screens. He blinked in surprise a few times, then lowered his voice to a whisper.

"He was an apocalyte," he informed Kate. "Do you …"

"Do I know who the apocalytes are?" Kate asked. "Yeah, I do. And judging by how many online articles this particular apocalyte bookmarked, or wrote, about you and your friends, I'm wondering if you personally knew our recently deceased Mr. Jonathan Plummer."

Angel shook his head. "I didn't."

Kate continued staring at him.

"Honestly, Kate, I didn't."

Kate beckoned for Angel to follow her as she moved to the corner of the room. A pile of three-ring notebooks whose visible pages were filled with columns of hand-written text were neatly stacked on a cabinet. On each pile was an index card labeled with black marker.

Los Angeles: 2004

Sunnydale

New Orleans: 2010-2011 (Chevalier Mortuary/ F. Quarter)

Moonridge: January 2021

With a sinking feeling, Angel leaned over to read the top page of each pile. He immediately spied rows of neatly dated notations; more than a few of the aliases referenced were familiar to him. SuperBlondie, Billy Cheekbones …

These notebooks are filled with information about us.

Despite his morbid surroundings, he smiled when he noticed the Professor Daddy moniker which Giles absolutely loathed.

"You see something funny, Angel?" Kate snapped. "Cause I don't see a lot of cause for levity around here." She gestured towards the gently swaying corpse.

Kate," Angel said softly, "what the hell was Mr. Plummer doing?"

"Writing a book," Kate replied. "About you and your team of evil-defying do-gooders, in fact."

"I knew the apocalytes were going to be a problem," Angel said. "We should never have encouraged them."

"The killer wasn't just here to murder someone, Angel." She pointed at the computer. "The tech geeks discovered that he mirrored the hard drive and browser history."

"I don't get it," Angel replied as he narrowed his eyes in thought. "If he was looking for me, he's already found me. What else could he be looking for?"

"Maybe finding you isn't all he wants," Kate suggested. "Maybe he wants to know all about you. Maybe this poor bastard," she pointed at the dangling body, "made a spectacle of himself online, demonstrated that he was a bit too much of an expert on Angel Investigations, and the killer decided it would be easier to steal Mr. Plummer's work than to stalk you himself."

A flood of troubling possibilities occurred to Angel as he considered why a serial killer might want to know more about him and his friends. "We really need to catch this guy."

Kate cleared her throat in amusement. "You only just now figured that out?"

"I've got a theory as to who did this," one of the lab-coated technicians indicated as he gestured towards the stack of notebooks. "Look at all these dingbat ravings, crazed conspiracy theories, and nutbag books. Some other delusional wacko probably had a falling out with this guy and offed him. We figure out who he was communicating with online, we'll find the killer."

"Thanks," Kate said dismissively. "We'll take it under consideration." She gestured for Angel to follow her. Winding her way through the cops and past the caution tape, she led Angel away from the apartment and further down the corridor until they were alone.

"There's one bit of evidence the murderer left behind this time," she informed Angel as she pulled a cellphone out of her pocket and poked at the screen. "This photo was taken on a neighbor's door camera. The killer was wearing a hood, and we only got a couple frames, but I think it's enough to draw a few conclusions." She held the phone out to Angel.

Angel took the phone and stared at the screen. A hood obscured most of the partially blurred face, but he could see that the figure's skin was purplish, smooth, and scaly.

"You still think the killer is human?" Kate asked him accusingly. "That was the one bit of possibly useful information you had for me, and right now it's looking pretty iffy."

Angel shook his head as he handed the phone back. "There has to be an explanation … I simply do not believe that these killings are the handiwork of a demon. I've seen more killings than I can count over hundreds of years, and I know what that photo seems to show, but when we catch this guy, it'll be a man."

Kate slipped her phone back in her pocket. "Angel, these deaths are about you. I hope you've spent the last forty-eight hours wracking your brain and looking through your file cabinets, cause other than this photo, which none of the cops know what to make of, we've got nothing to go on."

"Kate, I'm drawing a blank."

"Do better."

Angel bit back a reply and considered what Kate had said.

She's right. People are dying, and I'm the key to finding out who's doing it.

"There's one more possible motive you should consider as well," Kate said.

Angel looked at her. "What's that?"

"Our deceased Mr. Plummer was pretty close to being finished with his book about your adventures, judging by what I saw of the manuscript. If he had published it, even on some obscure online forum or a self-publishing blackhole of a website, your secret would be out. Other people might come looking for Angel, or Buffy Summers, or some of your friends."

Angel's blood ran cold. "And we might have left Moonridge, changed our names, or …"

"… or some other old enemy might have started looking for you," Kate finished his thought. "I think this guy, whether he's a man or a demon, wants you to stay right here in Moonridge, and he wants you all to himself."