Disclaimer: I don't own the challenge; that belongs to Lee. Buffy and Angel and respective characters belong to Joss Whedon, and Ocean's Eleven belongs to Warner Bros.

Feedback: Please do.

Challenge: Basically, redo the basic plot of Ocean's Eleven with Buffy and Angel characters. Angel should take the place of Danny Ocean, and Connor as Linus Caldwell. The other characters are up to you.


Other Requirements:
Keep the running gag of the Rusty character always eating/drinking something.

All characters should be at the jobs they were in the movie (Frank a dealer in a casino, Basher in the middle of another heist, Rusty teaching movie stars how to play poker, Danny/Angel in jail, Livingston working freelance for the FBI, etc.)

Angel's Eleven

As she stood in the art gallery that she had taken charge of nearly three years ago, Buffy smiled slightly at the irony of her current situation as she finalised the details of purchasing a painting for the gallery. Ever since the… explosion (She still couldn't bring herself to remember the trial and its aftermath), she and Dawn had been on the move constantly, trying to find somewhere to settle down and make a new life that had no connections with the disaster that had resulted from her old one. She'd contemplated starting up her own detective agency once or twice, when she'd been able to gather together the money that would be needed to arrange an office and the necessary advertisements, but she'd decided against it each time; she didn't want the reminders, no matter how much she enjoyed the work.

Eventually, drawing on their experience from years of their mother owning and organising an art gallery, Buffy had been able to find work in an art gallery attached to the Bellagio casinos, eventually starting her current relationship with the casino manager after Dawn had left to go to college. She still called Buffy now and again, touching base with her only real remaining family, but other than that Buffy had been working here alone for the past two years, arranging the acquisition of new paintings with some aid from Parker.

Say what you like about the guy; he's got taste in art, Buffy smiled to herself, as she studied her latest purchase for the gallery; Piccasso's 'Woman With Guitar' made an excellent addition to the gallery's exhibition.

"You like it?" she asked, turning to look at where Parker was standing beside her, dressed in his typically impeccable black business suit.

"I like that you like it," Parker said, shrugging casually before glancing at his watch. "I have to go; there's something on the floor that requires my attention."

"Which is?" Buffy asked; years of detective work may be over, but she still had a certain fondness with knowing everything about her current situation.

Parker smiled casually at her.

"There's always something that requires my attention, Buffy," he said, his grin briefly resembling a shark trying to look like a fish before he turned around and walked out of the gallery, leaving Buffy looking after him with a slightly regretful expression on his face.

Charming he may be, but she just wished sometimes that Parker had more time for her. He'd had his problems towards the end, but at least…

No.

He had lied to her for all the years they'd known each other about something so mind-blowingly important that he should have mentioned it as soon as they started seeing each other seriously.

At least Parker had never done that…

Sitting at the main blackjack table, having been upgraded to the High Roller's section after a few good victories, Giles, in his Lyman Zerga persona, was staring at his cards in one hand, even as he opened the bottle of pills he kept with him at all times these days and slipped a couple into his mouth.

"Weak stomach, Mr. Zerga?" one of the other men at the table asked, earning him a glare from the man in question.

"I don't believe in weakness," Giles replied simply. "It costs too much. I don't believe in questions, either."

Nodding politely, the high roller shut his mouth and returned to the game at hand. Glancing up, Giles was relieved to see Parker Abrams was at last emerging from the gallery to join the floor manager of the casino.

Grinning, Giles turned back to his game as he studied his cards, smiling slightly as he noted that he had yet another good hand.

Things were finally starting to really happen on this case…

"Eddie," Parker said, nodding politely at the floor manager as he shook the man's hand. "Anything for me?"

The man nodded, indicating the high roller table. "Mr. Zerga, sir. Lyman Zerga, sitting in the third position. Wishes to speak with you privately."

Glancing at the table position in question, Parker took note of the man the manager had indicated; mid-fifties, dressed in an expensive-looking suit, with wire-frame glasses. "Who is he?"

The manager shrugged apologetically. "Businessman of some kind, working mostly in Europe. He's very vague, but I asked around. Word is he deals primarily in arms. One of the biggest."

"Zerga?" Parker said skeptically. "Never heard of him."

"Yessir," the manager replied. "That's why I don't doubt it."

"He's staying here?" Parker asked, raising an enquiring eyebrow.

The floor manager nodded. "Checked in two nights ago, sir. He's in the Mirador suite."

"How's he doing?" Parker asked, indicating Zerga's rapidly-growing pile of chips; he had a fair idea of the numbers already, but he'd still prefer a confirmation before he decided on his next move.

"Up," the manager replied. "Almost forty grand."

"Good for him..." Parker muttered to himself, nodding thoughtfully as he studied Zerga. He knew right then that he had to move in; Zerga had too much of Parker's money for him to just be allowed to leave. He had to find out what Zerga wanted to talk to him about, act as though he wished to know Zerga better, make it clear that the staff of the Bellagio were honored by his presence here.

As Buffy sat at her table, glancing at her watch, she felt a strong pair of male hands reach down to caress her arms through her long black dress, and she smiled.

"You're thirty seconds late," she said teasingly as she began to turn around. "I was about to send out a search…"

Her voice faltered as she saw a long black leather coat rather than the business suit that she normally expected to see in these instances.

And that coat could only belong to one man.

"Angel?" she said, looking up to meet the eyes of the man she had once loved.

"Buffy," Angel replied, smiling at her as though it had only been a few days since they'd last spoken, rather than over five years.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy asked, staring at him in confusion.

"I'm out," Angel said, shrugging casually.

"You're out," Buffy repeated, staring at Angel as though wanting him to elaborate.

"Of prison," Angel said, playing along slightly. "You remember? The day you went out for a walk and I wasn't there when you got back? You must have noticed."

"I don't just 'walk'," Buffy coldly informed him, as he began to pull up a chair. "Don't sit," she said sharply, knowing even as she said it that it was a waste of breath and he'd sit down anyway.

"Now, they said I'd paid my debt to society-" Angel began to say.

"Funny, I never got a check," Buffy retorted coldly, and was annoyed when Angel just smiled back at her.

"You can't stay," she said eventually, more as a way of breaking the sudden silence that had descended over the table than for any other reason.

"It's good to see you," Angel said after another brief pause, as he glanced down at Buffy's hand, noting the absence of both the claddagh ring he'd given her on her seventeenth birthday and the platinum-and-diamond ring he'd given her when he'd asked her to marry him.

"You're not wearing your rings," he said, looking inquiringly at her.

"I sold it," Buffy retorted. "And I don't have a fiancé anymore. Or didn't you get the news?"

Angel shrugged. "I gathered from the trial," he said dismissively. He reached over for her ringless hand with his ringed one, but Buffy snatched the hand back before he could reach it.

"Angel," Buffy hissed in frustration. "Go. Now. Before..."

"Parker?" Angel asked casually. Then, ignoring the shocked expression on Buffy's face, he beckoned a passing waiter over to the table.

"Hey," he said casually to the waiter, holding his right thumb and forefinger two inches apart. "Whiskey-" he held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart, "and whiskey."

"Angel…" Buffy hissed in annoyance as Angel turned to look back at her.

"You're doing a great job curating the museum," Angel said, nodding at her in approval. "Your… well, your mother would be proud."

Buffy sighed in an overly exaggerated manner, but secretly smiled at the approval. She did sometimes worry what her mother's opinion would be of how she ran the gallery, and any claim that she was doing a good job was always appreciated, no matter who it was from.

"The Vermeer is quite good," Angel continued, smiling at Buffy; he'd always had a passion for old art, and it had been one of the few things that he and Joyce had actually managed to agree on when he and Buffy had dated. She'd never quite accepted that her daughter was dating a man a decade her senior…

"Simple but vibrant style, that guy," Angel said, turning his attention back to the matter at hand. "Although his work definitely fell off as he got older."

"Remind you of anyone?" Buffy said, already regretting the remark as soon as it came out; she knew as well as anyone that Angel hadn't been arrested because he got old and sloppy, but because…

No, she reminded herself. He'd made his call in what to do that night; she had not been responsible for his actions.

"And I still get Monet and Manet confused," Angel said, holding his head in mock frustration before he glanced back up at Buffy. "Which one married his mistress again?"

"Monet," Buffy said simply.

"Right," Angel said, clicking his fingers as though inspiration had just struck him. "Manet was the one who had syphilis, right?"

"They also painted occasionally," Buffy pointed out critically.

They sat there silently for a few moments, before Angel chuckled to himself.

"You don't know how many times I played this conversation out in my head the last five years," he said, a sad grin on his face as he looked back at Buffy.

"Did it always go this poorly?" she asked casually.

Angel shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah," he said, nodding in confirmation.

"Sounds frustrating," Buffy said noncommittally, as though she didn't really care how he felt about it.

Angel shrugged. "You were never an easy nut to crack," he replied, before his slight grin faded and his face was serious once again. "OK, I'll make this quick; I came here for you. I'm gonna get on with my life, and I want you with me."

Buffy glared at him with a harsh expression.

"You're a liar and a killer," she retorted harshly.

Angel sighed. "I only lied about the Connor thing, and you know why I killed those people before we met; I was angry and frustrated at the world. I don't do that sort of thing anymore; any time I've killed since then has been purely self-defence."

Buffy sighed in frustration as she stared at Angel, almost as though she was daring him to back down, even though they both knew Angel wouldn't; Buffy's retort had been weak, and they both knew it.

"I'm with someone now who I don't need to ask that question to," she said eventually, glaring at Angel.

"No," Angel agreed, nodding as he spoke. "He seems pretty clear that he's focusing on the theft angle."

As Giles tossed yet another pile of chips onto the table, one of the few remaining high rollers who'd managed to avoid losing his money, looked over in surprise at Giles.

"You don't want to get in the hole too heavy to this Benedict," he said casually to the older man. "A friend of mine once borrowed a hundred g's from the guy. Two months went by, Benedict hadn't heard from him, he calls my friend up, asks 'Where's my money?' I'll get to it when I get to it,' my friend says. Half hour later, Benedict's in my friend's hotel room, dangling him off his 10th floor balcony by his feet. 'You gonna get to it now?'"

He reached over, turned over a card, and it was a nine; Giles had won again.

"Bank wins- natural nine," the dealer said, as Parker stepped forward to greet the other high roller.

"Hi Parker," the high roller said, holding out a hand to the casino owner, who took the hand and shook it.

"Mr. Weintraub," Parker said politely. "How's everything?"

"Eh," the roller said, shrugging dismissively. "They put too much grenadine in my Shirley Temple."

"And here I thought you were drinking vodka," Parker said, chuckling casually as he turned to look at Giles. "Mr Zerga," he said, offering his hand once again.

"Mr Abrams," Giles said, taking the hand and shaking it as he stood up. "I recognize you from the TV. You know, nine casinos out of ten, owner comes up in the middle of the hand to ask me what I want. I respect your waiting."

Parker smiled casually at the ex-librarian, as though it was nothing. "You're the guest, sir."

"And I have to impose on your hospitality," Giles said, before indicating an open seat next to him. "Can you sit in for a hand?"

Parker smiled again and shook his head. "I'd love to, Mr. Zerga, but the gaming board would feed me to my white tigers."

Giles sighed in an exaggerated manner. "That's a shame. You're the king of Vegas and you have to play craps in the alley."

Chuckling again, Parker clapped Giles on the shoulder. "No shame at all; reminds me of my youth," he assured the other man.

Moments later, Giles was talking to Parker in a corner, Giles having left the table after winning a last hand.

"Mr Abrams," Giles began, "the fight is Saturday, is it not?"

"Yes, it is," Parker said, nodding in confirmation. "I can get you seats-"

"No, no," Giles said, raising a hand in a halting gesture. "Hand-to-hand combat does not interest me. I have a package arriving here Saturday evening. A black briefcase, standard size, the contents of which are… very valuable to me."

Parker shrugged casually.

"That's no problem; I'd be happy to put it in the house safe for you," he assured the other man.

Giles chuckled skeptically as he looked back at Parker. "The house safe is for brandy and grandmother's pearls. I'm afraid I need something more… secure."

Parker looked at him critically, as though insulted at the implication that his safe wasn't secure. "I can assure you, the house safe is utterly-"

"I can assure you, Mr Abrams," Giles added, smiling reassuringly at the wealthy businessman, "your generosity in this matter will not go overlooked."

As Parker raised a curious eyebrow, Giles smiled. "Now, what can you offer me besides the safe?"

Meanwhile, in the restaurant, Buffy and Angel were still talking.

"See, the kind of people you took out," Buffy explained, as she glared at Angel, "they had no troubles once you were finished with them, and, quite frankly, the world was probably better off anyway. I had to leave Sunnydale- leave my entire life- to get away from what happened. How do I get my years back, Angel?"

Angel shrugged as he looked at her. "You can't; I accept that. But what you can do is not throw away another five years."

Buffy snorted scornfully. "You don't know anything about-" she began

"Listen to me, Buffy," Angel interrupted, staring fixedly at her. "You don't love me anymore, you want to make a life with someone else? Fine; I'll have to live with that."

He leaned forward slightly to clasp her hand. "But not him."

"Spoken like a true ex-boyfriend," Buffy said harshly.

"I'm not joking, Buffy," Angel said, staring back at the woman he loved.

"I'm not laughing," Buffy retaliated harshly. "You have to admit, there's a bit of a conflict of interest when you give me advice about my love life."

Sighing, Angel leaned back and stared critically at Buffy.

"Yes," he said, nodding at her in agreement. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

Glancing at his watch, he sighed; if he didn't leave now, the plan would be ruined.

"I have to go," he said, standing up and looking pointedly at Buffy one last time. "But think about what I said, OK?"

AsAngel walked away from the table, aware all the time of Buffy's eyes on him, as though she was trying to decide what she should do next, there was another pair of eyes watching his movements. These eyes belong to a woman who, on the surface, appeared just as attractive to the male population of the world as Buffy Summers was herself, but it was a darker kind of sexuality. It wasn't just because of her darker hair- brown where Buffy was blonde- but because her aura, her stance, her very appearance, seemed to generate an air of darkness that detracted from any physical attraction that might have ever existed.

As Angel left the restaurant by one door, just as Parker Abrams entered by another, the woman smiled to herself.

So, Angel's back in town, Lilah Morgan thought to herself, as she glanced down at the young casino owner briefly before her eyes flicked back in the direction that her old nemesis had just departed from.

She smiled.

This should be interesting…