A Call Away

by Jess S1

Buffy and Charlie get used to living apart again, but still working together and helping each other as their bond continues to grow. Sequel to 'First Meeting' - Part 2 in M&M.

10. Chapter 9: Mortal Peril P4 of 4

Disclaimers: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. Numb3rs belongs to Cheryl Heuton and Nick Falacci…I think. (NOT me!)
AN: Ha! I finally finished the Mortal Peril part! ...The scary thing is I wrote almost this whole chapter in one day. I didn't have to work on Sunday, so this was the result. I just had to take the rest of the week to figure out a few of the scenes.

OK, this time I'm still not recommending a crossover, but it is a NUMB3RS fic. Call For Helpis FraidyCat's rendition of how the final episode of NUMB3RS Season 5, "Angels and Devils" could have played out, and continued a bit more after that. Personally, I think FraidyCat did a fantastic job with it. Charlie's banged around a bit more than he was in the show, so if you don't like that you might not like the fic, but that's the only possible deterrent I can think of for it. It's a fairly short, fast-paced read and chalked full of some fantastic imagery and humor. So if that kind of thing suits you: Enjoy! ^_^

Also, another slightly random recommendation: If you like science-fiction movies and haven't seen the new Star Trek movie yet, I highly recommend seeing it in theaters. It's GREAT. :-D

Warnings: Um... I can't think of anything I haven't warned you about before. Though there's one piece of German profanity in this chapter, too. Which is hopefully accurate, but after a considerable amount of research I still don't know for sure. _ . Other than that, if you see something I should warn your fellow readers about, please let me know. ^_~

Thanks again to NeverTooOld for beta-reading! ^_^

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A Call Away

Part II in Mathematics & Magic

By Jess S

Chapter 9: Mortal Peril

Part IV

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Miller's Woods, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Charlie tried to draw deep breaths in as he followed the two Slayers through the woods at what was for him a very brisk jog. He was just glad he wasn't a complete geek and into only indoor activities, because it was probably only his experience hiking and the frequent uses of his bike to travel anywhere that had given him the endurance to keep up so far. He knew he was still slowing the Slayers down, but there wasn't much he could do about that. All he could do was his best at running as fast as he possibly could and hoping it was enough.

"B look out!" Faith called.

Charlie turned frantically towards the older Slayer just in time to see her pull her foot up, nimbly escaping a bear trap just as it snapped shut around where her ankle was less then a second before.

"Thanks," Annie gasped out. Then, just as a second jolt of alarm hit Charlie through their bond, she darted back to grab him and dragged him to the ground. "Get down!"

"Wha—?" His question was answered by the shot of a rifle, which made a part of the tree the mathematician had been standing in front of explode.

Charlie turned towards the shot's origin just in time to see Faith take the man's gun from him to bend it in half. He winced as—in his haste to evade the angry Slayer—the ugly man stepped backwards into another bear-trap.

"GAAHHH!" the man cried out loudly, making all three wince for different reasons.

Charlie could easily sense Annie's just barely suppressed rage as she stalked towards the trapped man. He knew both Slayers' were much more worried about other 'hunters' hearing the man's cry than they were about his pain. Realistically, he probably shouldn't be feeling sympathy of any kind towards the man that just tried to shoot him, but that trap looked painful. Of course, it was also kind of strange that of the three available targets the man chose to shoot at Charlie despite the fact that the other two were the real targets and much, much more dangerous individuals.

With another look at their trapped attacker, the mathematician couldn't help but blink at his attire. It might look good—or at least socially acceptable—on a safari some place warm, hunting in a jungle or maybe somewhere in Africa, but the patchwork of animal skins and furs that made up his outfit, accompanied by a wide assortment of accessories for violence, just looked weird in southern California.

"That's gotta smart," Annie commented, her voice much harder than Charlie would ever be used to hearing.

The man glared at her for a moment, before reaching down to try and pry the trap open. It was something he logically shouldn't be able to do. If the thing was designed to hold a bear in place for hours on end, a mere man couldn't rationally hope to escape it on strength alone. And obviously the being trapped in the trap couldn't get the proper angle to force their release. But then again it really did look like it hurt, so maybe that was affecting the man's mental functions. Or he perhaps just wanted to relieve the pressure or—

Charlie shook his head when Annie shot a glare at him and smiled apologetically. Now really wasn't a good time to distract her.

"OK, so we can either let you out of that or start beating you with what's left of your gun," Annie turned back to the strangely-dressed man, one eyebrow raised even as he continued to glare at her. "How many of you are there in this little game?"

Charlie blinked at her, but then tried to force a blank expression onto his face. She had to just be trying to scare the guy, which made sense. Because they needed to know what they were up against here. But she couldn't really do anything to him. Although he was very strangely dressed and undoubtedly ill-intentioned towards them, the man was still human, which meant that the Slayers couldn't hurt him... Didn't it?

The hunter just glared at her for several moments more, his mouth set in a firm line.

Then he turned back to trying to pry the trap open, but froze when Faith suddenly swung the mangled shot-gun up over her shoulder, clearly preparing to take a swing at him.

He looked up at both of them again, then slowly rose, shaking his head. "There's me: 'm Jungle Bob. Two Germans, uh, a yellow-skinned demon called Kulak, vampire couple from Texas named Gorch, an' some punks from LA. Didn't get their names."

Annie stared at him for a long moment, then demanded, "And what are they packing?"

"Germans got AR-15s, a grenade launcher an' a bunch of other tech stuff. Both the demon an' the punk got knives. The punks migh' 'ave handguns, too. The vampires didn' 'av anythin' on 'em."

"That everybody?"

"Everybody who's out here," Jungle Bob continued quickly, apparently having decided that turning informant for his prey really was in his best interest. "But the Germans are wired. Their boss is tracking them on computer. Now get me out of this!"

"Wh-Who hired you?" Charlie quickly interjected as quietly he could, wincing when the question came out a stutter.

When Jungle Bob didn't answer him right away, Annie struck him across the face. She obviously pulled most of her strength out of the blow as it didn't send him flying or break his neck... or his face, not that you'd really be able to tell. Still, he'd probably have a nasty bruise there pretty soon.

"Answer the question."

"Vamp called Trick called us all 'ere. Well, all of us 'cept the punks' leader. Don' know how he heard about it, since they just broke outta the pen." Jungle Bob snorted in evident disgust, "Probably broughta a buncha coppers after 'em, too."

"B, we gotta move." Faith spoke up suddenly, nodding towards the direction they'd come from. Apparently having heard something that normal human ears couldn't, because when Annie focused on that area it took her only a moment to pick it out and nod.

Before Jungle Bob could say anything else, Annie swung another punch—that was, again, at nowhere near her full strength—at his face, sending him crashing to the ground.

Charlie frowned when she just turned to leave and she sighed.

Turning back, she leaned down to pry the trap open with supernatural ease, simply yanking the jaws open till they snapped off. Then she nodded to Faith, and the younger Slayer took the lead, with Annie ushering Charlie along behind her.

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A Cabin In Miller's Woods, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

"B, wait." Faith's request stopped the blonde Slayer just before she went to kick the cabin door in. At the look the elder teen sent her, she added, "Keep a lookout for a sec, will ya?"

Buffy frowned slightly but nodded as Faith handed her Jungle Bob's rifle-turned-club before moving over to the door. Realization dawned as the brunette pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and started fiddling with the lock. She nodded her approval even as she gently dragged Charlie behind her, placing him in between her and Faith, the safest place he could logically be in this situation.

A surprisingly short moment later the brunette rose with a grin of triumph, pushing the door open even as she grabbed Charlie to drag him in after her.

Buffy quickly followed, closing and locking the door behind her while Faith quickly inspected the cabin itself for dangers. "We should be safe in here for a while," she murmured quietly, the clandestine nature of their dilemma urging her to speak softly.

"We should?" Charlie looked around doubtfully, the cabin was rather small and made of wood. Old wood, which probably would stand up to much assault. Charlie stifled the urge to sneeze as years of dust rose up in the air around them, arisen from its duty of covering every surface in the cabin from their movement and the air that had blown in when they'd opened and closed the door.

Buffy sighed, shaking her head a little as she sent a burst of what she hoped was completely reassuring feelings along their bond. Then she turned to Faith, just as the younger Slayer turned back to her, having completed her quick inspection of the tiny shelter. "Any weapons?" she asked, while nodding again in approval as the younger Slayer dragged an apparently heavy trunk over to blockade the door.

"No," the younger Slayer replied, clearly unhappy with the fact, then her eyes alighted something, "But we do have a phone now."

"Does it work?" Buffy asked, unable to keep a clear note of amusement out of her voice as she caught a clearly projected image of trying to fight off their attackers with a phone along with a general sense of confusion from Charlie. But he shook his head, logic overriding the general sense of panic that had been dominating the mathematician's emotional state since they first learned about the start of 'Slayer Fest.'

Faith had already picked up the receiver and held it to her ear for a moment before nodding, "Yup, got a dial tone. You wanna call Giles?"

"Yeah," Buffy nodded quickly, then frowned when Faith held the phone out to her. "Oh, the number's—"

"Nu-uh, I'm not makin' the call," the younger Slayer insisted as she quickly hung the phone up and moved away from it, shaking her head. "Not even sure how I'd start explaining this. Besides, G-man likes you more."

Buffy's frown deepened, "He does not like me more, Faith. He just knows me better."

"And you know him," Faith insisted. "So you should call this in. Not me."

Buffy opened her mouth to object but a slight cough—and a wave of part-amusement, part-consternation over the bond—from Charlie made her stop herself, and rolling her eyes she moved over towards the phone, nodding to the curtained window's as she went. "Check the windows."

"Looks like they're all boarded up," the brunette replied, after taking a quick glance around.

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Check to make sure. And see if you can find a second exit, we might need it." She shook her head when Charlie started moving away from her to help look, "No, Charlie. You stay right here."

"Yeah," Faith shot a small, obviously meant to be reassuring grin at him as she moved from window to window. "We don't want you near any of the windows if the bad guys decide to be all breaking and enterish." She was frowning as she moved back to them, and continued while shaking her head. "These boards are pretty flimsy. G-man not answerin'?"

"No, it just keeps ringing. Maybe there's something wrong with the phone." She glanced at Charlie, "You have your cell, don't you?"

Charlie blinked, a pulse of part-embarrassment, part-relief telling her he'd honestly forgotten that he did, and nodded as he pulled it out of his pocket. "Sorry. Forgot I had it."

Buffy shook her head, "That's fine. See if you can get a hold of—" she stopped as the ringing finally stopped. "Oh, wait. Here's the answering machine."

"You have reached the office of Dr. Rupert Giles. I am presently unable to receive your call. Please leave a message with your name—"

Both Slayers looked at Charlie when his cell phone started ringing a moment after it'd powered up.

"—and contact information, and I shall return your call as soon as possible. If this call is in reference to the Sunnydale High School library, whether it be a late book or one you are in need of, please call between the hours of eight and three on the next available week day. Thank you."

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A Cabin In Miller's Woods, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Charlie shrugged apologetically, as he immediately answered it. "Hello?" He realized a moment after he did so that now probably wasn't a good time to be accepting calls from anyone who didn't know about the supernatural, but when he heard his phone ring answering it was almost an automatic response.

"Hey Chuck, you decide to actually listen to me?"

"Don't call me tha—Don?" Charlie blinked, "What are you talking about?" He ignored Annie as the blonde rolled her eyes even as she started talking into the landline.

"Hey Giles, it's me. I'm with Charlie and Faith in Miller's Woods, and we're in big trouble."

"Well, I'm at The Bronze now, and you're not. You were going to the dance at The Bronze, right?"

Charlie nodded hesitantly, "Y-Yeah," the mathematician hoped his voice sounded normal as he talked to his much too perceptive older-brother while listening to Annie explain their situation. "Yeah, we'll be there soon."

"There's a bunch of demons and guys with guns out here, and they're in some kind of competition to see who can kill us first."

"No, Charlie, really you shouldn't—"

Charlie shook his head as he cut his brother off, "We're just, um, having a little trouble getting in, but I guess I'll see you soon, OK?"

"Charlie, this is the only place with any activity at all…"

"If you get this message, get help and get out here as—" Annie stopped abruptly.

As a jolt of panic hit him from their bond, Charlie sent her a worried look just in time to see her shaking her head at Faith even as he took a deep breath before interrupting his brother again, not willing to back down on this but also knowing he couldn't talk much longer.

"…so if Derkin is trying to meet anyone in this town, it's gonna be here. You really—"

"Don, I didn't go to any of the Homecoming Dances or the Proms when we were in high school, remember? I think I'm entitled to at least one fun dance. I'll see you there," he felt a little bad for ignoring his brother's concerns, now that they obviously were in real danger. But no matter what awaited them at the dance it had to be safer than where they were now.

"B, what happened?"

"It went dead," Annie replied, her tone somehow just as tense as she herself was.

"Damn it," Faith snapped.

"Charlie—"

"Yeah," Annie agreed before moving over towards Charlie to whisper to him, "Charlie, get off the phone, Don doesn't know about—you know."

The genius nodded even as he cut Don off yet again, "I'll see you there, Don. Now I've gotta go. Bye." Charlie only felt a little remorse as he hung up on his big brother and hit the power-off button, once again shutting his phone down. Looking around their less than formidable shelter, he shook his head. "I don't think we should stay here."

Both Slayers looked at him.

"Why not?" Annie asked gently, none of the slight amusement Faith was feeling in her tone or along their bond.

Charlie shook his head, "Think about it, Annie. They chose this area to hunt us in. Do you really think they don't know about the cabin in the middle of said area?"

Faith blinked, clearly surprised by the simple logic as she nodded. "He's got a point, B."

Sighing, Annie nodded again. "Alright."

She looked around, then moved over to the old, dusty table they'd previously ignored, tipping it on it's side to grab one of the fairly substantial legs and tear it off like it was a toothpick, rather than a table-leg her hand wasn't large enough to fit all the way around. She tossed it to Faith, nodding towards Charlie, who then accepted it from the Slayer as Annie tore two more table legs off: one for herself and one for Faith, before letting the now one-legged-table crash to the floor.

"Alright, let's get going."

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Miller's Woods, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Buffy frowned as they jogged through the dark woods, she and Faith both forcing their bodies to match the pace Charlie set. He was really pushing himself, though his dress shoes were undoubtedly much easier to run in then her own. The only reason she and Faith could run in the high-heeled, pointy-toed shoes they were wearing was because they were Slayers. Though thankfully the dresses they'd chosen, with loose, flowing skirts, were loose enough to run in. Neither one wanted to do any more harm to their attire then was strictly necessary.

Though she found their Calling was starting to get more than a little depressing when it came to trying to take occasional nights off for normal-teen-like fun. Apparently it really was too much to ask that they be allowed to enjoy one normal school dance.

Unless a near-apocalypse had been averted immediately beforehand, she realized. Apparently post-apocalypse parties were allowed. So maybe she should have Charlie try to figure out when more apocalypsy-stuff was supposed to happen. Then try to schedule parties around that schedule.

Shaking her head at her straying thoughts, she shot another glance at her non-super-powered friend, frowning as she could see sweat starting to collect on his brow and his breathing coming a little heavier than it had a few minutes ago.

She opened her mouth to tell him they could slow down, but stopped as a wave of calm reassurance hit her. She blinked at Charlie, frowning slightly as she could clearly see he was focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, only occasionally looking up to glance around for danger since he knew Buffy and Faith would do everything they could to protect him.

If Charlie hadn't sent it then—

She blinked again as she realized who that had to be. 'Sineya?' she thought, a little uncertainly. But she wasn't surprised when an echo of the earlier wave came from their bond, and with it a sudden increase in strength. Cocking her head a bit to the side, even as her eyes scanned the area ahead of them again, she mentally asked, 'You can help Charlie?'

After a moment of nothing, her mind was filled with calm certainty that wasn't her own. Then it was gone, leaving her own thoughts alone in its wake.

Nodding slightly, Buffy wasn't quite surprised when Charlie's breath evened out. Though she did blink when he started to run a little faster, and sensed that it had surprised Faith, too.

"You know, you shouldn't wear yourself out, C-man," Faith told him, careful to keep her voice at the whispery level of volume so that it wouldn't carry back to their hunters. "If you collapse on us, we'll have ta carry you. And you'll probably ruin your tux."

Charlie chuckled, breathing only a little heavily as he replied, "I think my tuxedo might be a lost cause."

Seizing onto the topic, Buffy murmured, "Maybe not. Wills has this nifty new cleaning spell that does wonders for post-patrol attire. She might be able to salvage us."

"Course, one of us is gonna have ta get her attention when we get there," Faith pointed out with a chuckle.

"Has to be one of you," Charlie spoke up immediately, forcing himself to draw in a deeper breath before he continued. "My brother's waiting for us to show up. If we're gonna magically correct our clothes, he can't see me beforehand."

"Fair enough," Faith shrugged, glancing at Buffy. "Guess we'll be doin' rock, pape—"

"I made the phone call," Buffy interjected.

"You left a message."

"Yeah, but I did it. So unless your clothes are indecent when we get to the Bronze, you're gonna be the one that goes in." Before Faith could try to duck the responsibility again, she drew her attention back to their current problem. "I think someone's following us, but it's not the vamps. I'm not sensing any vamps anywhere near us." After taking a moment to consider what she was sensing around them, she spoke again. "There's a demon, though."

"Yeah, knife guy and the Germans, I think," Faith agreed.

"Could be the 'punks' Jungle Bob talked about," Buffy pointed out.

"The ones my brother's after?" Charlie asked, even as he continued to force himself to keep his breathing normal. Along their bond she could sense a bit of surprise at his own fortitude, and realized Sineya apparently hadn't told him she'd be helping out. And he was either too focused on not slowing them down or too shocky to notice her.

"Yeah," Faith confirmed, before shaking her head. "But since he's callin' 'em punks, I'm thinking gang-like-guys. The two that are following us don't move like that."

Buffy considered the movements she was hearing behind them, which was far enough away that their pursuers couldn't see them—which begged the question of how they were tracking them in the dark, since they were human—and focused on the two that were obviously closer together and moving at a fast but diligent pace, their moves carefully constrained. "You're right." She nodded slowly, "They move like the Council-guys. Kinda."

"Already knew that, but thanks for admittin' it," she could tell Faith was grinning without looking at her, it was in her quiet voice and shouted out by her pleased emotions. "I think I know where we are. I chased a vamp out here a few weeks ago."

"So how do we get back to town?" Buffy asked. She was pretty sure she could figure it out. They were far enough from the Hellmouth that she could sense the direction it was in, which told her where the high school was. But if Faith actually knew the area, it'd be better to follow her lead.

"Don't think we should go straight back to town," Faith replied. "They might have more traps set up for us that way."

"She's right," Charlie agreed, and Buffy nodded also.

"OK, so we'll go the long way. Any preferences?"

Faith thought for a moment, before nodding. "There's a creek about a mile up ahead. The demon might be able ta jump it like we can, but it'd probably slow the Germans down, at least. Though we'll have to toss you across, C-man."

Ignoring the amusement/incredulousness Faith's comment generated from Charlie, Buffy nodded. "Yeah, Toppler Creek, right?"

"That's the one."

"You're sure we can jump it?" Buffy asked, letting a little uncertainty slip into her voice as she shot another glance at Charlie. She knew she could clear it, and therefore Faith could too. She just wasn't too sure about the idea of 'tossing' Charlie across though.

"Yeah." Then, surprisingly seeming to catch onto what the older Slayer was hesitant about, Faith added. "Actually, if we jump together, we could probably just take C-man, here, across with us."

"How far across is this, um, 'Toppler Creek'?" Charlie finally asked, apparently still unbothered by the extensive exercise they were forcing him to undertake.

"Don't know." Buffy blinked, suppressing a grimace as a glimmer of worry shot over the bond, accompanied by the sensation of falling. Honestly wanting to redirect the genius's focus, she asked, "Don't people usually name stuff after themselves?" She bit back a smile as a clear wave of relief came over their bond.

"Oh. So it's not because people tend to fall in?"

"Or it could be that," Faith nodded, smirking a little as Charlie made the mistake of rolling his eyes.

Both Slayers quickly caught and steadied him, never slowing down, when he nearly tripped as a result. Then, glancing at each other, they shrugged and—instead of releasing him once he'd found his feet to keep running—they picked him up again. Each holding onto one arm to easily keep him about half a foot off the ground as they ran through the lightly wooded area, they sped up. Headed for the Creek.

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Miller's Woods, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Charlie winced as the mini-canyon in question came into sight. He hadn't questioned their need for speed when they'd decided to balance him between them and double the rate that they were cutting through the forest at, but the arroyo they wanted to jump was easily more than thirty feet across.

According to physics, a being's weight, strength and forward momentum—all negatively influenced by gravity at about 9.8 meters per second squared*—determined how far they were physically capable of jumping. (1)

The two women who were carrying him so easily as they ran—feet flying over the forest floor at a rate that would put most professional athletes to shame while neither of them were even breathing hard or sweating yet—weren't technically human. He supposed they Slayers could safely be categorized as 'super-human.'

But they still had their limits. Their bodies could still only expend a certain amount of energy to perform otherwise impossible feats. Their muscles could only take so much strain. Their bodies, as a whole, only recover from so much and only at a—very fast, but still set—pace.

And when the canyon they were planning on leaping across had come into sight, he hadn't been able to stop the instinctive jolt of fear that shot through his brain as it observed a distance across that would demand a bridge for anyone else to cross.

Deciding he really didn't want to see how far down the bottom of the rapidly approaching canyon was, Charlie closed his eyes even as he hesitantly asked. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

No matter how fast they were still moving—the wind that was brushing past his face and tugging through his curly hair felt more like he was sitting in a car with the window open than held up off the ground by two super-powered-girls—simple physics stated that the movement of going up and forward to cross the canyon was much farther than their bodies should be able to handle.

No matter how fast they were moving and how high they could jump, gravity still held them to the surface of the planet. And therefore it would certainly pull them down when they jumped.

He'd seen Annie pull off some incredible moves while fighting the forces of darkness. But when she jumped up she still always came back down.

As far as he knew, Slayers couldn't fly.

"Yeah," came Faith's flippant reply. "Don't worry about it C-man. We've got it."

"But you can keep your eyes closed, if you want," Annie told him, even as a warm wave of reassurance swelled through their bond.

"Th-Thanks. I think I'll do that." The mathematician agreed, closing his eyes even as his far too powerful brain continued to run through statistics and mathematical facts that he'd really rather not be thinking about as he felt the Slayer's surge upward and forward.

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Miller's Woods, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Faith grunted as she landed, letting her knees bend forward in a crouch before she pushed herself back up, all the while being careful not to let Charlie hit the ground too hard, her motion easily matched to Buffy's own, despite the older Slayer's shorter stature. "See?" she asked, shaking her head as the math-geek opened his eyes. She grinned at him even as she followed Buffy's example at set him on his feet, only letting him go once she was sure he wouldn't fall over. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No," Charlie allowed, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. "I-I guess not."

When Buffy didn't comment or retort in any way, Faith glanced at her, then followed the blonde's example and turned her eyes towards the other side of the creek, looking for their pursuers. "Think we lost 'em?"

"Maybe," Buffy allowed with a nod, cocking her head to the side as she probably reached out with her senses. "We definitely gained some ground on 'em. But the demon's still pretty close."

"How close do you th—" Faith blinked as Buffy's hand shot out in front of Charlie, to catch one of the weird, serrated knives the demon carried just before it would've gone into his chest. "Oh."

Without another word, the two Slayers deftly grabbed the mathematician again and took off into the woods.

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Giles' House, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Buffy sighed as she knocked on her Watcher's door for the second time.

With adrenaline pumping through her veins as a response to their exciting night thus far, she'd had to carefully pull almost all of her strength back to avoid punishing the poor door for something it had no control over. And, of course, to avoid making Giles replace his door... again. Though, to be fair, it'd been well over a year since she'd been responsible for that. The most recent time was a demon's fault.

"Don't think he's here, B."

"No," Buffy agreed with a sigh, shaking her head as she turned away from the door and moved back down to the courtyard of Giles' apartment complex, where Faith was half-leaning on the rail of the bench Charlie had gratefully taken a seat on. She shot her friend a worried look.

Even with Sineya secretly supporting him, Charlie's body could only take so much stress before he collapsed. Technically, even she and Faith could only take so much, too, but they could take a lot more than Charlie.

Glancing back at the door of Giles apartment, she then turned to Faith and raised an eyebrow. "Don't suppose you could pick the lock so we could leave Charlie here?"

Charlie looked up quickly with a frown, "What—"

"I don't want to leave you just anywhere, Charlie," Buffy cut him off. "But I really don't want you with us, either. Not with all these maniacs hunting us."

"And it'd be better for us if we leave you stowed away here, C-man," Faith put in, her voice a little too warm to be considered teasing. "B and I'll be able to find and beat all the baddies back a lot quicker if we don't have to worry about you."

At that, Charlie seemed to sink into himself a little, but he nodded and sighed. "I-I guess that makes sense." Then he looked up again, shaking his head. "But I want to help."

"You can help," Buffy nodded, her voice firm. "By staying here. Maybe trying to get a hold of the gang by phone?"

"And you could call your brother back. Maybe he'll catch the three guys that he's after and we won't have to worry about them, then." Faith suggested, smirking softly.

Charlie chuckled, nodding slightly. "I guess. Will you—"

Whatever he'd been planning to say, however, Buffy didn't hear as that same instinctive warning that told her they were in immediate danger—which seemed particularly sensitive to when Charlie was in immediate danger—went off and she darted forward to pull him from the bench, just before another one of the yellow-demon's serrated knives sailed through the air where Charlie's head had been a moment before.

She didn't for the life of her understand why they always seemed to target Charlie first, but her instincts had definitely keyed into responding to that threat, so she wasn't going to question it.

"I can handle this guy, B!" Faith yelled at her, while running towards the spikey-headed demon with her make-shift club raised. "Get C-man outta here!"

Knowing that Faith was right, and they really couldn't try to leave Charlie here when their pursuers had already tracked them this far, Buffy nodded and dragged Charlie to his feet. She glanced worriedly back to where Faith was fighting the yellow-spiked demon that could apparently pull knives out of its body—a wicked cool ability, she had to say—but decided after the third glance that Faith could definitely handle him.

The younger Slayer had come a long way after the fight with Kakistos. Her confidence had shot up a lot after that. And after many patrols with Faith, staking countless vamps and a number of demons, Buffy could definitely say that the yellow dude wouldn't be around in a few more minutes.

So she didn't feel too bad pulling Charlie away from the fight. Yellow-dude liked to throw his knives too much for her to be comfortable having Charlie anywhere near him.

Her 'Charlie-in-danger' sensor went off again and had her swinging around—again, pushing Charlie down as she went—to throw her club at the entryway just as one of the Germans came into view, his gun pointed towards them. Then he went down as her table-leg-turned-club slammed into his face.

He was squeezing the trigger as it hit him, but only a few shots went off in their direction, and a few more bullets went up into the sky—and the apartment building—before unconsciousness claimed him, forcibly relaxing his form even as his furious friend came through the entryway.

"Zicke!!!" (2)

Grabbing the club she'd given Charlie earlier, Buffy snapped at him, "Stay down!" even as she took off to cover the short distance between her and the second man much faster than was humanly possible, swinging the new club up to whack his gun down before he could get off a shot and swinging a foot up towards his face in the same move. She remembered at the last second, though, not to use all her strength, so she didn't break his neck with the kick.

Fortunately she didn't kill him, but she did knock him out cold, too.

After quickly looking both thugs over, and wincing at the ugly bruise that was already starting to dominate the first man's face, Buffy turned to spare a quick glance in Charlie's direction just as he came out from the hole in the wall she'd shoved him into. She nodded to signal it was OK for him to come out now; the lingering sense of danger that had permeated the area around them was gone, leaving only the knowledge that there were still several other monsters hunting them. But they weren't anywhere near here.

She couldn't stop a second wince from coming to her face as the distinct sound of bone breaking met her ears and she turned to see Faith moving away from the yellow-demon's cooling corpse. Her nose wrinkled a little at the very obvious dent the other Slayer had made in the demon's head with her make-shift club.

"Well," the younger Slayer sighed, twirling one of her fallen adversaries unique knives in her hands as she did so. "That takes care of that then, doesn't it?"

"There's still the vamps and the other humans," Buffy added mildly, though she had to grin at the other Slayer's slightly childish antics. "You gonna keep those?"

Faith glanced down at the knives she'd take from the yellow-demon, then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." She nodded towards the corpse, "There's more over there, if you want some. That guy was just full of 'em. It was wicked cool," she was grinning animatedly as she waved a knife towards the demon again. "I mean, he could just make 'em pop right out of his hand or arm."

"Useful talent," Buffy agreed.

"No kidding," Faith snorted, shaking her head. "Though I gotta say, it's a lot neater lookin' back on it then it was when the knives were flyin' at my head."

At that, Buffy had to laugh, "It usually is," she glanced towards Charlie again, and frowned when she noticed the nervous glances he was throwing around them. "You OK, Charlie?"

The mathematician started slightly, but then nodded as he glanced back at her. "Y-Yeah. But... should we still be here?"

Buffy shrugged, "These were all the guys that were trackin' us from the limo, at least. Whoever else is hunting us, they're not here." Then she frowned down at the unconscious Germans, "I'm not sure how they found us, actually. I'm pretty sure we did loose them at the canyon, but we should probably tie them up. Giles can figure out what to do with them, once we actually find 'em." She jerked her head towards Giles' door, her eyes on Faith. "Can you pick—"

"I don't think it's safe for me to stay here," Charlie cut her off hurriedly.

"Charlie—"

"Really, Annie." Charlie nodded at the unconscious Germans. "You said we lost them back in the woods by jumping the canyon. But they still found us."

"Yeah," Faith agreed with a sigh. "I don't get it. I mean, the demon crossing the canyon and following our tracks as we cut across town I can believe, but the Germans are human, so—"

"So they must be tracking us some how," Buffy realized, nodding her agreement. "Maybe a spell of some kind?"

"No," Charlie disagreed, his eyes widening as his brilliant brain apparently made a leap there's hadn't yet.

Buffy was startled when he tried to grab her wrist, which really wasn't a very smart thing to do when both Slayers were on high alert, but she apparently trusted him enough instinctively that the likely instinctive response of punching or kicking him didn't come. "Charlie, what—"

"The corsages!" Charlie cut her off sharply, even as he pulled the pretty flower off her wrist. "All of the equipment they use is modern technology, right? And they drove us out to the clearing. They put the corsages in the car," He turned it over and pointed to the small device that was carefully concealed by the pretty petals. "And they put the tracking devices on them. That's probably what the old guy, um, that Jungle Bob was talking about is doing. He must be tracking us for them."

"Damn," Faith muttered, sounding distinctly annoyed as she pulled the rose that had been resting on her wrist off. "And I really liked this thing."

Charlie blinked at her, then shrugged, "So keep it."

"But—"

"There's nothing wrong with the corsages themselves," Charlie shook his head, turning it over till he found a little device with a blinking light on it and pulled it off, dropping it on the ground.

"Oh," Faith blinked as Charlie handed Buffy's corsage back to her, then shrugged again. "OK, thanks," smiling she copied the mathematician's actions to render her decorative piece harmless, before slipping it back onto her wrist. "Now what?"

Buffy thought about it for a long moment, then nodded. "We know that the other humans are probably waiting for us near the Bronze, like Charlie's brother thinks. But what about the vamps?"

"Vamps like the Bronze," Faith pointed out, frowning slightly.

"But with the wards that the witch from Deborah's coven set for the night, they can't get in." Buffy reminded her of the main reason they'd thought they were going to get away with a nice, vamp-and-demon-free night. "So are they going to be waiting for us outside, or not?"

After another long pause, Charlie spoke up. "You said vampires are drawn to the Hellmouth, that's why there are so many of them in Sunnydale, right?"

Both Slayers blinked at him, then nodded slowly before looking at each other.

"To the library?" Faith asked, one eyebrow raised as she shrugged again. "At the very least, that's where the armory is, too. And weapons are always a good thing."

Buffy nodded in agreement, "To the library." With a sigh, she turned towards the exit again, giving Charlie a nod as he followed her with Faith bringing up the rear.

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High School, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Charlie shook his head as he followed Annie through the halls of her high school on the semi-familiar route that would take them to the school's library, with Faith right behind him. "Are you sure we should've come here?" he asked, glancing around dark halls. "I mean, if they're waiting for us—"

"Chill, C-man," Faith told him with a grin. "We can handle two vamps."

Charlie sighed, "I know, but—"

"Shh," Annie hissed quietly, shaking her head at the surprised look Charlie sends her. "Vamps have good hearing," she pointed out softly, leaning closer to him to make sure he heard her.

Charlie nodded in understanding. They were getting closed to the library. He glanced towards some of the empty classrooms, but then shook his head. Despite knowing they were headed directly for some of the monsters that were hunting them, he felt much safer between the two Slayers than he would by himself in a dark classroom.

He watched with a mild sense of amusement as he saw both Slayers glance towards the closed classroom doors and obviously reach the same conclusions: that he was safer while he was within their sights than he would be in public areas. With an ease borne of more practice than Annie probably liked, he sent her a warm wave of trust along their bond while shooting Faith a hopefully reassuring smile.

He received small smiles back in return, even as both Slayers were focused on their destination, or more specifically the conversing voices they'd undoubtedly heard long before he did.

The first one he understood was male, with a southern accent and clearly amused. "—go through you faster than Grandpa Pete's chili."

"I want to do Buffy," a female voice with the same accent replied, a clear note of impatience dominating her tone. "My weddin' present for what happened to your poor brother."

"Tector," the man—or, judging from the Slayers' focus on the library and this conversation, a male vampire—replied. Charlie was a bit surprised by the momentary bit of sadness he could hear in the vampire's voice. Not just because he couldn't sense it: they'd already learned that the emotions of the undead didn't register to their empathetic radar. Annie had theorized that it might be similar to vampires not having reflections. Or it could be their not having a soul, or the conscience and emotions that might be integrally tied to it. Whatever the case, they already knew that vampires registered as completely apathetic to the empathy. That was part of the reason the visit from the lawyers of Wolfram and Hart had surprised him so much. He wasn't used to feeling so similar a level of apathy from human beings. But back to the point, the sadness in Mr. Gorch's voice—as he thought that was the name Jungle Bob had given the vamp—surprised him, because not sensing emotions from vampires had led him assume that vampires, for the most part, didn't have emotions. Annie—who was glaring at him for his wandering thoughts—had argued that it was more likely that they didn't feel emotions to the same extent as they did. Though Charlie understood that was more because of the vampire Spike's decision to side with her in the fight against Angelus. But only more data would solve that debate.

"When's she comin'?" the female vampire snapped suddenly, jarring him out of his thoughts even as they reached the library doors and paused directly outside to continue listening to the muffled conversation.

"Well," the male replied, his tone now sounding rather satisfied. "He's her Watcher. She'll show..."

Both Slayers looked at each other sharply, eyes going a little wide with worry.

Charlie blinked at the additional complication to their situation. Wasn't Dr. Giles supposed to be chaperoning the dance at the Bronze?

Then he shook his head. With how late he, Annie and Faith were, it shouldn't surprise him that the Watcher had probably drive here to check his voicemails. It was only a few blocks away, anyway, and the Englishman's dislike of most modern technology, Charlie already knew, had kept him from taking the time to figure out how he could check his voicemail from other locations.

"Just as soon as she gets rid of some of our competition," the vampire—who was probably smirking—finished.

Closing his eyes, Charlie reached out with his empathetic senses, deliberately ignoring Annie's poignant worry to reach into the library instead. He bit back a sigh of relief as he found Giles presence.

The older man was undoubtedly unconscious, with no emotional activity registering to Charlie's empathy, but he was alive.

Reaching out a gentle hand out a gentle hand to quietly get Faith's attention, Charlie sent a burst of reassurance to Annie along their bond, even as he gave Faith's shoulder a gentle, hopefully reassuring squeeze.

Annie looked back at him, and he saw when she realized where his confidence was coming from, as hope lit up her eyes just before she nodded before turning back to Faith and raising all five fingers of one hand. She pointed towards the door, and then raised the five fingers again before she started motioning with her hand as she silently counted down.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Honestly, Charlie had to wonder—as he followed the pair through the door a few moments after they'd charged through—what the two vampires thought they were doing, going up against two Slayers together. Realistically, they couldn't really think they stood a chance against them.

But then again, he realized as he watched Faith repeatedly whack the female vampire with Giles coat rack, Annie had told him many times before—and he'd seen examples of it himself—most vampires weren't all that smart.

That's why the master vampires that were intelligent were so scary.

But intelligent master vampires these two were not.

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Faith plunge the pointy-top of the coat rack—and did Giles get a wooden, pointy-topped coat rack with that specific sort of scenario in mind?—through the female vampires chest.

"CANDY!" the male vampire cried out in evident horror. "Oh, Can—"

But the moment he stopped to stare at his partner's disintegrating form, he was done for as Annie ably swung an axe she'd grabbed off of the nearby counter around to chop off his head.

Seeing the danger in the library was clearly dealt with, Charlie hurried towards Dr. Giles form on the floor, but he wasn't surprised when Annie and Faith both got there before him.

"He OK, B?"

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High School Library, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Buffy shook her head as she gently turned their Watcher over, cradling his head in her lap. "I don't—" she stopped and smiled brightly as Giles face suddenly scrunched up, and he emitted a groan that experience had taught her meant her mildly concussed-Watcher was waking up. "Giles?"

Familiar features formed clear expression of discomfort for a moment before his eyes slowly opened, only to start blinking rapidly for several seconds as his pale blue gaze became accustom to light once more.

"You OK, G-man?"

"Faith?" the Watcher replied, his voice a bit faint for a moment, before he seemed to find himself again and forced his eyes open to look up at them. "Buffy? What—Are you alright?"

Both Slayers blinked at him.

"I was listening to your message, you were—" he shook his head, then winced as the motion clearly jarred his brain. "What—" he stopped again, and sighed. "I presume I was—"

"Knocked out again?" Buffy grinned down at him. "Yup."

"I see, and you two are—"

"We're fine, Giles."

"And Dr. Eppes is—"

"Right here," Charlie cut in calmly, and Buffy glanced up to see him standing behind where Faith was kneeling, holding a familiar pair of glasses in hand. "And I thought you might want these."

Giles opened his eyes to look, then nodded slightly as he slowly pushed himself up—with Buffy not helping him but ready to catch him if he fell—and reached for his glasses. "Yes, thank you." He groaned as he forced himself up the rest of the way, swaying slightly for a moment before he caught the edge of the counter to steady himself and looked around.

Buffy also winced as she looked around. The vamps themselves had made a bit of a mess before they'd gotten there, but she and Faith hadn't helped when they'd been fighting the pair. Still, the two tell-tale piles of dust were pretty clear explanations of what had happened.

"Vampires?"

"Yah," Faith confirmed immediately, and Buffy had to smile as she watched the younger Slayer trying to conceal the momentary bit of fear she'd felt at seeing their Watcher on the floor. "Called 'emselves Gorche, didn't they, B?"

Buffy shrugged, "That's what Jungle Bob said."

A wave of confusion hit her, and she bit back the answering smile as her Watcher blinked at her in clear confusion.

"Who?"

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The Bronze, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Faith shook her head as she slipped through the bustling busy bodies that had been enjoying the dance for hours now. Eyes alighting on several servers who, her fairly well honed instincts were telling her, were out of place. It wasn't until she recognized one of them that she realized why.

She knew him from a picture Charlie carried of his family. And though his older brother had cut his hair a bit shorter and wasn't smiling like he was in the picture, it was still definitely Don Eppes. Which meant that all—or at least most—of the other servers were probably undercover cops/feds, too.

That made her slow down a little. She even stopped at the punch bowl, seeing as it was surprisingly open, as she passed by the table. Gave herself a small cup to sip from as she wove her way through the club until she finally found her target.

Normally Red was fairly easy to find. The vibrant hair color Faith called her by, combined with a generally bright wardrobe would make her stand out even if the subtle 'ping' of developing witch on her Slay-dar didn't.

But now Red was dressed in an elegant, long black dress. And she wasn't smiling.

In fact, X-man, who was standing next to her with his girlfriend as all three watched wolf-boy on the stage, didn't look too happy-go-lucky either.

But that wasn't her problem. Right now, she needed Willow to fix her wardrobe. And the others. So that they could join the party.

Cordelia spotted her first, "What happen to you?"

"Faith! We were getting—" Willow turned to her, eyes wide, only to frown at the clear signs of abuse the Slayer's dress had taken. "—worried. What—where's Buffy? And Charlie?"

"They're outside, Red." Faith spoke up quickly, even as she gently grabbed the older teen's shoulder and started to pull her towards the door. She stopped a second when Willow resisted, but it was more because of the stare that was suddenly boring into her back. In response, she turned towards the stage and wasn't surprised to see that Oz was frowning at her. In response to his raised eyebrow, she shook her head, then started tugging his redhead off once more. "We had a little trouble gettin' here. B said you've got a spell that could help us clean up for the party?"

"Oh," Willow blinked, then nodded. "Oh, right. Yes, I mean, of course. But wh—"

"Great, follow me then," Faith ordered, slipping her hand down to latch onto the redhead's so that she wouldn't lose her in the crowd, even as she turned her attention to getting the two of them out of the club with out running into any of the many lawmen all around the club.

Willow followed her in nervous but trusting silence for more than a minute before she spoke up again, "Why are we—"

"I'll tell ya when we get outta here, Red," the Slayer reassured her, leaning back so that she could speak softly and not be overheard. She'd known it wouldn't take the witch long to notice that Faith was taking a very roundabout way out of the club. "Just trust me for now, 'k?"

"...Um, O-K," the older girl replied, clearly still nervous but not wanting to doubt the Slayer.

Faith frowned as she spotted Charlie's brother again.

And this time the elder Eppes wasn't just moving about, watching everyone, he was standing right by the door she wanted to go out through, talking to another very-fit, vigilant server.

Shaking her head, she pulled the redhead towards another exit, even as she finished her drink off and set the empty cup down on a random table.

They made it to the second door without problems.

Though, when she looked back towards the elder Eppes, she did see him glance towards them. Luckily, they were now far enough away that it wouldn't matter. In the haphazard lighting and the crammed atmosphere, he shouldn't remember anything really significant about her appearance now. So it'd still be safe for Charlie to introduce them later.

She shot the doorman a smile as he held the door open for the two of them, pushing back the clear amusement she felt at just how helpful the guards here in Sunnydale always were to her and Buffy. It was yet another thing that made the Sunnydale cops seem so moronic. The regular security guards knew enough to trust the real dangers of the night to the Slayers, even if they didn't consciously acknowledge it. They did, however, make a point of showing them a certain amount of respect for that reason.

Not too long ago, the fact that most of the respect they showed her was only a reflection of Buffy's activities here—and something she'd have to work at earning for a while to come—would have really bothered her. But after several discussions with the elder Slayer, she'd come to accept that as a matter of course.

She was doing her job. And according to Buffy, that meant she deserved just as much respect. So it wasn't something she questioned.

Once out in the cool night air, she raised an eyebrow at the witch-in-training, jerking her head to the side as she did so. "They're over there." She stepped back to walk beside the older girl, releasing her hand to lock elbows with her instead. That was how she and Buffy tended to walk together when they were patrolling—unless one or both of them really needed some space—so it was a lot more comfortable for her. "So, this spell of yours," she smiled at the older girl. "How does it work?"

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Outside The Bronze, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Buffy grimaced a little as Faith led an obviously nervous Willow around the corner of the alley, halfway down to where they were waiting. She never liked making her friends worry, but her Calling rarely—never, really—obliged her in that regard. "Hey Will, how's the party going?"

"G-Good," the witch replied with an anxious smile as she looked them over. Fortunately they were relatively unharmed, though their clothes had obviously seen better days. "Are you guys OK?"

"We're fine, Will," Buffy reassured her immediately, though the redhead's expression made it clear that she didn't believe her. "Just a little banged up." Then she wrinkled her nose as she glanced down at the dress she'd spent a year's allowance on for tonight. "Do you think you could fix us up?"

"You're not hur—"

"Just a few bumps and bruises, Red," Faith cut in, her tone a lot more gentle than the brunette usually cared to be in public. "Have they announced the queen, yet?"

Willow blinked at the topic change, but shrugged as she went with it. "Yeah, they called it a few minutes ago."

"Cordy didn't win?" Buffy guessed after a moment of silence.

"Yeah, she's pissed." Willow confirmed. "Xander's kinda going back and forth between avoiding her and trying to cheer her up."

"Poor X-man," Faith shook her head, though the smirk on her face and in her tone didn't match her words.

Buffy tilted her head to the side curiously as she asked, "So who won?"

Cordelia Chase's antics as she'd vied for the position of Homecoming Queen this week had honestly amused the Slayer.

A part of her had yearned for that same kind of recognition, but with Charlie visiting all week, she hadn't been willing to get herself pulled into the task of appeasing it. Especially since Charlie, himself, clearly found the entire tradition more than a little ridiculous. He hadn't said anything of course, not with Cordy constantly trying to pull all of them into her schemes, but their emotional bond didn't need speech to convey his amusement, disbelief and bewilderment.

Plus, even though Cordy had nearly blown Buffy's chance of getting a picture in the yearbook, Charlie had helped her solve that issue rather handily, and then quickly pointed out that trying to take Cordelia's title away from her when she was already feeling socially threatened due to her relationship with Xander, wouldn't be a nice thing to do.

So Buffy had pushed that brief desire aside, instead seizing onto her friends for more quality time and occasionally agreeing to help Cordelia with her campaign.

But honestly it didn't surprise her that Cordelia had lost. The entire 'competition' was really a popularity contest at its most basic form. To be popular, one had to be liked. Combined with her already challenged social status, the brunette's disdainful attitude towards her competition, clearly seen by anyone who cared to look, obviously hadn't won her any points.

"Holly and Michelle."

Faith laughed, "Cordy was competing against two people and both of them won over her?" she shook her head. "That's gotta sting. No wonder she's pissed."

Buffy nodded her agreement, then pointed out with a small grin. "Yeah. Well, I guess we'll have to try and cheer her up. For Xander's sake, at least." She raised an eyebrow at her redhead friend, "So do you need anything for the spell, or...?"

Willow blinked. "Oh, no. No, I'm fine." She took a few steps back. "You guys just stand there. I'll chant." Then she closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them again and raising her arms as she started to chant in what sounded like Latin.

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Outside The Bronze, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Charlie smiled as Willow blushed in response to Annie and Faith's exuberant—and more than a little over the top—praise. Honestly though, what she'd just done was not only remarkably useful, but also only the second time he'd really been able to see magic do something. And even the first time—when he'd watched the Lincrofts copy the Watchers' book—hadn't been as impressive. It took him a moment to rationalize why.

While the book was really very immensely impressive, especially as an example of what mages had been capable of for centuries, it was much more removed, more impersonal than their clothing was. Having the stained, torn, ripped and slightly bloody clothes they'd been wearing reform them, and look like new in response to a phrase of Latin and a few candles was therefore more impressive.

Though Annie and Faith's almost ecstatic response to the spell confused him as much as it embarrassed Willow. Until he remembered the countless complaints both Slayers had offered after patrols about ruined clothes and shoes. Then it made sense, though it also made it roll his eyes even as he smiled warmly at the redhead.

"Thank you, Willow."

"Your welcome," the witch-in-training replied, a little out of breath but smiling widely. But her enthusiasm left on a startled gasp when she took a step forward and her legs gave out underneath her. "Whoa!"

She was saved the embarrassment—and probable pain—of falling flat on her face only because both of the other girls were supernaturally fast and easily caught her.

Annie was frowning at her friend as she supported most of the taller girl's weight, since Faith had released her once she'd seen Annie had the redhead.

"Nifty mojo there, Red, but I think ya mighta overdone it a little."

"Willow—"

"I'm fine, Buffy..."

Charlie's mind flashed briefly back to watching the Lincroft siblings decimate a plate of cookies after they'd cast a spell. He glanced towards the side door of the club, where the helpful doorman that had brought Willow to them earlier was watching with concern. Then he tuned back to the bickering females."

"Really, Buffy, I'm f—"

"You're not fine, Wills."

"Yes I—"

"Don't mean to take sides here, Red, but you'd collapse if B weren't holdin' you up."

"Exactly!" Annie agreed, "So you're n—"

"Do you want me to go in and get something for you, Willow?" Charlie interceded gently, winning a grateful smile from the redhead for his efforts.

"Yeah. Some fruit punch'd be great. Thanks, Charlie."

The genius nodded in response, before hurrying towards the door even as the two Slayers started fussing over their friend again. He nodded again, in thanks, as the very nice doorman opened the door for him. All of the people that worked at the Bronze were very good to all of Annie's friends, giving credence to the idea that they weren't quite as oblivious to the supernatural as they pretended to be. He found it a bit interesting that the doormen here in Sunnydale were almost all human, whereas those in LA were not.

He was halfway to the bar, where several full bowls of punch were set up with the bartenders taking orders off to the side, when a familiar voice stopped him.

"Charlie?"

Charlie stopped abruptly, then forced an instinctive wince from his face before turning towards his brother.

The frown on the FBI agent's face didn't surprise him. Though he did blink at his brother's outfit. Apparently Don was undercover as a server for the party. And as many more men and women in similarly good shape were moving about the room with serving platters and alert expressions—way too many hired hands for a small high school's reunion at a club that rarely hired part-time workers—they were still waiting for the fugitives. At least that was the only thing he could think of that explained the tightly reigned vigilance he sensed rolling off all of them.

Who were hopefully still looking for the Slayers somewhere in Miller's Woods. Though they'd never seen them there.

"Hi Don."

"You shouldn't be h—"

"I'll talk to you later," he cut the coming rant off before his brother could get going. "A friend needs some fruit punch, OK?"

"What—"

"She really needs it, Don. I'll talk to you later." He'd turned away and gone only a few steps before Don was moving along almost beside him.

"Is your friend hypoglycemic or something?"

Charlie blinked, but then forced a shrug as he kept his focus on the bar, stopping at the end of the line for fruit punch with a frown. "Something like that, I think. But I don't really know. She feels really woozy. I offered to get her something and she said fruit punch should help." He frowned when his brother grabbed his elbow and dragged him out of the line, "Don—"

"The fruit punch won't help her much, Charlie. If she's hypoglycemic she doesn't want to drink anything with alcohol in it, and we've already had to change it three times after the kids' here spiked it with something." Don told him, stopping near one of the free bartenders, "Hey Pete."

Charlie blinked again in surprise that his brother apparently knew the man somehow, but then realized the well-muscled man was probably another undercover cop. Maybe the Sunnydale cops really weren't as bad as Annie and the others thought they were. Maybe they were just unable to accept the supernatural, like so many others.

"He needs some OJ," Don was telling the 'bartender.'

"Comin' right up."

"Thank you," Charlie murmured, glancing back at his brother. "So did you catch those guys? You've got a lot of people here." Which he thought meant they were still looking, but maybe they didn't want to upset the crowd or something and were therefore staying till the end of the dance?

"Yeah, we do," Don agreed, clearly surprised that his geeky-little-brother had noticed. Then his face twisted in a little grimace, "Unfortunately they're all Statey's who got here the same time we did. Sunnydale PD didn't do shit. Apparently the town Mayor doesn't want us here." His eyes quickly scanned the crowd, before returning to Charlie. "Sometimes politicians really piss me off."

"But he couldn't keep you out, right?" Charlie asked, frowning in slight confusion. This was at least the third time he'd heard about Sunnydale's mayor in less than ideal circumstances.

"Nah," the agent shook his head. "We know Derkin's here, we already caught one of his stooges, but we can't find him or the other one." He shrugged. "And the club owner didn't have a problem with us being here. Seemed to think he might know who the target could be and he doesn't want anything to happen to her, so he's been really cooperative. But the girl he told us about isn't here."

"Y-You're sure he's here?" the mathematician asked hesitantly, growing more and more nervous at the idea more of the SlayerFest people being close by, rather than lost in the woods as he'd hoped, despite Annie and Faith's expectations to the contrary.

"We caught Joey L outside. So yeah, we kinda expect Derkin and Stephens to show." Don's head cocked to the side as he looked at him more closely, frowning slightly, "You haven't met a Buffy Summers, have you?"

Charlie couldn't stop a flinch that time even as he nodded to the undercover cop when the older man finally set the full glass of juice in front of him. "Thanks," glancing at Don, he shook his head as he started to move off. "I've gotta get this to—"

"Charlie," Don caught his elbow to stop him, eyes narrowed. "Do you know where Summers is? Everyone we've asked said she's not here—"

"She's not. I've got to get this to Willow, Don. Annie's—"

"Life isn't at stake, Charlie! If you know where Derkin's target is, you've gotta tell me. She—"

"Follow me, then," Charlie snapped, tugging his arm free of Don's grip with an ease that would've surprised him if he wasn't so worried. His brother was physically much stronger than he was, and had had a very good grip. But that wasn't something the mathematician wanted to pay attention to right now. So he didn't. Instead he hurriedly explained the first comment just before he took off at as fast a walk as he could manage, slipping between the mingling, fancied-up teenagers that were there to have a good time. Just like he and Annie and Faith wanted to be. "She's with Willow. Outside." Again, he gained only a few steps before Don was moving along behind him.

As he neared the door, he saw another server move into their path. A man that Charlie kind of recognized from some recent photos Don had sent to their parents.

"What's going on?" Billy Cooper's face was serious as he made his demand, though the demand was entirely directed towards Don. His brother's partner in Fugitive Recovery had barely spared him a glance. Though he had looked back for a second one a moment later, perhaps from surprised recognition.

"He knows where Summers is," Don told the slightly older agent. "Any sign of Derkin or Stephens yet?"

Billy shook his head, "Not a hair."

The slightly older FBI agent reached out to to try and catch Charlie as the impatient teen brushed passed him, but something made him move in just the right way to slip around the federal agent. It almost felt like Sineya, but he didn't think she could just take control of his body like that. It hadn't felt like he wasn't in complete control of his body, anyway. Though his mind was a bit hazy from worry, so he could be wrong on that account.

"Let him go," Don was saying as he followed Charlie by his partner. "He'll take us to her."

"What's the orange juice for?"

"A friend with a low blood sugar."

At that, Billy groaned. "Oh please tell me Summers is not a diabetic. We really don't need our perps' target having a medical emergency right now."

"She's not. This is a different friend."

As they made it out of the club, Charlie frowned. He'd apparently gotten turned around in the club somehow and picked the wrong door. Glancing up at the sky, he nodded to himself. He was on the wrong side of the building.

"Where is she, Chuck?" the teasing tone—and the hated nickname—clearly showed what Charlie could already sense.

Outside of the crowded club, the FBI agents were much more comfortable, no matter how many shadows they had to walk through. Though he couldn't say they weren't still wary, still vigilant. Because they were.

"Other side of the building," Charlie replied, shaking his head as a bit of annoyance colored with amusement rushed at him from his brother. He didn't sense much from Billy. Maybe because both agents were feeling about the same things? Or maybe because he was more familiar with Don. Though he wouldn't think that would matter, maybe it did. "Sorry, I got turned around, I think."

After a few moments of walking in silence, his brother's curiosity got the best of him. "So you're here with the 'Annie' I've been hearing so much about lately?" a little bit of confusion introduced itself before he added, "Though it sounded like you might be going with a girl name Faith. Mom wasn't too clear on that."

Charlie almost glanced back at him as he responded—the little brother in him wanting to impress big brother and big brother's friend—but the growing sense of urgency in his gut wouldn't let him. "Both, actually."

The wave of surprise, followed quickly by admiration from both older men, was more than a little gratifying, despite the circumstances.

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Outside The Bronze, Sunnydale, California – Friday, October 11, 1996

Faith chuckled as Willow's face ran through a wide range of emotions before settling a exhausted again. Not that she could blame her. The two Slayers hadn't even made it to the party yet, but they'd definitely had a more than eventful night.

"But you got them all, right?" the redhead asked nervously.

"Think so," the younger Slayer confirmed with a shrug. "Though there were supposed to be some normal goons that we haven't seen yet."

"Normal?"

"Human."

"Oh," Willow nodded slowly, her eyes darting back and forth even as she leaned against the shorter Slayer.

"You sure you don't wanna sit down, Will?"

Faith chuckled again when the redhead merely glanced at the filthy ground before shooting the blonde a partially-disgusted, partially-disbelieving look.

"I'm sure." Willow replied, shaking her head. "There's no way I'm getting any of that on my dress." Then she yelped softly as both Slayers heads turned—almost in sync—towards the end of one alley. "What—?"

"Don't worry, Wils," Buffy cut in gently, and Faith shot her a surprised look as she saw the older Slayer was already, mostly, relaxed. "It's just Charlie."

Faith listened closely for a moment, then nodded as she recognized the slightly unique sound of his steps after listening to all the noises his dress shoes were able to make under numerous kinds of abuse throughout the evening. But her frown didn't fade and she didn't relax right away, "But there's someone else with him."

Buffy nodded, "I think it's his brother."

"And another cop, then," Faith nodded in agreement, also relaxing just before they saw Charlie come around the corner with two older men behind him. She tried to shrug off the uncomfortable itch, the 'not-wanting-to-be-here' feeling she still got when she saw cops. She wasn't on the street for that long in years past, thanks to Diana Dormer, but it was still a prejudice that was hard to shake.

She'd kick herself many times for it later. She practically already was as—out of the corner of her eye—she saw Buffy suddenly tense, one hand shooting up as if to catch something.

As her head snapped around with the speed only a Slayer could make, her supernaturally enhanced eyes also saw what the older Slayer was trying to catch as everything seemed to move slowly around her.

She saw the dart that had been shot at Buffy from the rooftop sailing through the air.

Saw that Buffy should have been able to catch it, her hand was in place to do so and her Slayer-reflexes were more than capable of the feat.

But then the dart changed paths, and she recognized the itch she'd been ignoring for what it really was.

Not an annoyance at the presence of cops.

An annoyance at the presence of dark magic. Aimed at them.

And making the dart Buffy should've been able to catch shoot around her hand and directly into her neck.

Faith's own hand shot forward to tug the dart from her stunned friend's neck even as she helped drag Willow down to the ground and heard the vaguely familiar sound of gunshots as the two feds, who now had Charlie behind them, responded to the sudden threat.

They scared the shooter off before he could fire another shot, namely at Faith herself.

But B was out cold.

Leaving Faith to stare at the still half-full dart that she'd pulled from her friends neck even as the alleyway was suddenly swarming with a lot of cops and Feds in nice outfits.

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General Hospital, Sunnydale, California – Saturday, October 12, 1996

Don Eppes shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he entered the small town's hospital, biting down on the tasteless piece of gum he'd been chewing on for some time now. He knew that, realistically, none of the events of the night were in any way his fault. Every one of his guys had done their job, himself included: a fact that Billy had been sure to pound into his head at the first opportunity. Which had come only after they'd managed to corner and catch Durkin and his accomplice, and returned to the alley just in time to see his brother stepping up into the ambulance that had been called for the Summers girl.

Whatever was in the dart Durkin had shot Summers with had knocked her out cold instantly. They'd seen that and the cops, plus Summers' anxious friends had been able to confirm. Then all of them had rushed off at once, and Billy had given him the OK to head to the hospital to check on his brother.

So here he was.

Pulling out his badge with a sigh, he stopped at the information desk. "FBI. I'm here to check on the victim of a recent assault. Buffy—"

"Miss Summers' condition is not yet known, sir," the nurse cut him off abruptly. "But her friends and family are outside, in the ER waiting room."

Don blinked in surprise, before shaking his head as he realized a name like 'Buffy' probably would stand out on any list. Plus this was a fairly small town, so it probably didn't get that many injuries compared to the hospitals in LA and other big cities. He nodded to the helpful nurse, "Thank you. The ER is—?"

The nurse offered him a sympathetic smile, "On the other side of the hospital, I'm afraid, sir." She nodded towards a nearby, open corridor. "Just go down to the end of the hall, take a right and keep going. Can't miss it."

"Thank you," Don nodded again, before moving towards the indicated hallway. Reaching into his coat pocket—the much more comfortable one he'd changed into at the first available opportunity, which was shortly before coming here—he pulled out the almost empty pack of gum and popped another piece into his mouth before putting the container back in his pocket.

As he walked, chewing thoughtfully on the sharp-minty flavored wad that had been his usual stress reliever since not long after he'd started playing in little league as a child, he couldn't help but wonder at how his brother was taking everything that had happened tonight.

Looking back on his recent, less than cordial, chats with Charlie, it honestly didn't surprise him that Charlie had reacted to Don's request the way he had. They hadn't really seen each other in years. And though both had called home to talk to their parents fairly frequently while in school, a practice Don had tried to keep up after he'd entered Fugitive Recovery, as Charlie's surprise when Don had called to talk to him had shown: he and his brother had definitely fallen out of touch.

Not to mention, as Charlie had pointed out, he knew his little brother really hadn't enjoyed high school. And hadn't gone to any of the dances. His brother's presence had bugged him more than little back then, but he couldn't help but feel a little guilty for asking Charlie to not come to the small town's dance.

Even though he'd been right.

Still, even though the big brother in him hadn't been happy at having his concerns ignored—and had been absolutely horrified at Charlie being anywhere near an armed, federal fugitive—oddly the thing that was annoying him the most right now was a much less important fact, but one that big brother seemed focused on.

While talking to the nervous group of teens the ambulance left behind, he hadn't remotely been able to figure out who his brother's date was. He found it hard to believe that Charlie was seriously attending the dance with two girls, so it was probably a just-as-friends kind of thing. But none of the girls had really stood out, and none had seemed to recognize him at all. Which meant Annie wasn't there, because after spending weeks in his parents house the chances of her not recognizing him from one of the many photos therein were next to nil.

And even though his gut was telling him it was foolish hope, he was really, really hoping 'Annie' wasn't a nickname for Buffy Summers.

Because he wasn't sure how he'd talk to Charlie about that. Or their parents.

But as he entered the Emergency Room, he knew his hopes were in vain as he saw Charlie seemed to be mainly conversing with the only older woman in the room. A woman who's coloring, from what he remembered, distinctly matched Summers'.

With all the hustle and bustle of activity in the hospital—really a lot more than he'd initially expected for the small town—Don wouldn't have thought his approach would be noticed. Especially considering the doors all of Summers' friends, including his brother, were watching were on the opposite side of the room from the hallway he was entering through. But he hadn't even finished his first step into the room when a pair of dark—and surprisingly alert, but even more worried—eyes locked onto him. And almost immediately afterwards Charlie looked over towards him, too.

Apparently little brother wasn't quite as oblivious as he used to be.

"Don!" there was a definite note of relief in Charlie's voice as he rose to his feet, with everyone else following suit. Then the older Eppes had to bite back a sigh as Charlie's arm came up—possibly to hug him—only to drop back to his side almost immediately, as clear uncertainty shot across his face.

The Eppes men had never been much for hugs. That was mom's thing.

Don shook his head as he came to a stop by his little brother, biting down firmly to send another burst of mint over his tongue as he reached out to grab his brother's shoulder in a gentle squeeze, before dropping his hand away almost immediately. "Hey Buddy, how ya doin'?"

Charlie looked away for a second, then sighed and shook his head.

Don felt another burst of honestly-unmerited-guilt run through him, which wasn't helped at all by his brother's pained wince.

"Annie's still in there," the young genius nodded toward the ER doors with a sigh. "The doctors haven't told us anything."

"Really?" Don blinked, and shook his head. "Not even whatever she was hit with? The paramedics brought the dart in didn'—"

"Yeah," Charlie confirmed with another quick nod. "Yeah, they did." He ran a hand through his hair, brushing the curls back from his face with another sigh. "They just haven't told us anything yet."

Don nodded at the news, though honestly he was more worried about why his brother: the genius's hand was shaking. "Are you OK, Chuck?"

"Don't call—"

Don was honestly surprised when Charlie abruptly stopped himself and shook his head. The somewhat childish nickname game they'd played for years wasn't a barb Charlie tended to ignore. Another stab of guilt shot through him as he realized that that probably meant Charlie was even more worried then he'd originally expected.

He obviously really did care about this girl. And looking around, it was clear a lot of people did. Margaret and Alan Eppes undoubtedly among them, even though they weren't here in person.

"D-Do you need to take our statements?" an unfamiliar girl's voice asked hesitantly.

Don turned towards her and saw that it was the shaky redhead that had needed the orange juice Charlie had gone into the club for. It had actually kind of impressed Don that Charlie had still gotten it to her without spilling it or anything when all the chaos started, as she'd been halfway through the glass when he and Billy had hurried over to take their names. "No, Miss Rosenberg. I just had to catch the bad guys, we leave the boring stuff to the guys that are supposed to be in suits," he finished with a warm grin, shaking his head slightly as the redhead blushed. "I probably couldn't be involved in the investigation for this anyway."

"Because of your relation to Dr. Eppes, I presume?" an older man spoke up, and Don turned to meet his bespectacled gaze.

At first glance Don had thought the older man sitting next to Summers' mother was probably her father, but now that he looked at the Englishman—the accent gave him away—again he didn't think that was the case.

Still, in response to the man's question, he nodded. "Yeah, the higher ups tend to frown on those kinds of things." Then he cocked his head to the side, "I remember seeing you at the dance, are you with the school, sir?"

Before the Englishman could reply, Charlie jumped in. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, Don." The mathematician waved between him and the group. "Guys, if you didn't know already this is my brother, Don Eppes." Then he indicated the lady sitting next to him and confirmed what Don already knew, "This is Joyce Summers."

Not entirely knowing what to say to the lady—part of the reason he'd been eager to go into Fugitive Recovery was because it meant not having to deal directly with victims and their families most of the time, as any investigation was already done and over with by the time the cases came to his attention—Don nodded to her. "I hope your daughter fares well from all this, Mrs. Summers," he offered a bit lamely as he held out his hand.

The older woman rose from her chair with a sigh—she was the only one who'd remained seated earlier—and accepted his hand with a kind smile. "Thank you... Don, was it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he confirmed, forcing another burst of flavor out of his gum as his brain made the uncomfortable connection as to why this woman seemed so familiar to him. Even knowing she was the victim's mother wasn't it. It was the fact that she very distinctly reminded him of his own mother.

Like he didn't feel guilty enough with just his brother to worry about. Now he had to worry about too much emotional attachment to the other victims.

"Buffy will be sorry she missed you," Mrs. Summers told him, the gentle tilt of her chin and the kind inflection of her voice all distinctly similar to his own mother. She shook her head, "She's wanted to meet you, but this isn't quite what she had in mind."

That explained part of the reason Charlie was obviously so comfortable with the woman. Though it had to put a weird dynamic on his budding relationship with her daughter.

"Unless she's available real soon, she won't be meeting him anyway," a familiar voice drew the group's attention back to the hallway Don had entered from several minutes before.

Don turned with a frown to see his partner standing there, "Coop?" He could see from the set of the older man's brows that he really wasn't happy about something and couldn't for the life of him imagine what. Yeah, it sucked that their fugie had hurt someone, but that didn't seem like the kind of thing that would have Coop steaming in front of innocent people, no matter how hard he was definitely trying to suppress it.

"We gotta go soon, Don," the older agent shook his head.

Something about the way he said it made Don's brain leap to a not quite obvious conclusion, but one that made sense given Billy Cooper's dislike for politics. "Is the mayor—?"

"I think he may've made some calls, but it's not just him," Coop shook his head. "No, we're getting a lotta pressure from someone a lot higher up to get outta Sunnydale. And we've got our perps now, so," he shrugged and then shook his head again. "Don't really have an excuse to stick around. The Statey's have agreed to interview Miss Summers, since I wouldn't trust the locals as far as I could throw 'em after what happened tonight, but that's the best I think I can do here."

"The perps—"

"Are already on their way to LA," Coop cut in with a nod, then gave a disgusted snort. "Though some big-shot lawyer in the city's already taken their case."

"Really?" Don's frown deepened, "That's weird."

It really was. Most 'big-shots,' as Coop defined them, wouldn't tie themselves to a boat that had already sunk: such as three convicts that had just committed another serious crime after breaking out of jail.

"Tell me about it," Coop shook his head, then his eyes turned towards the group of people that was watching a bit anxiously. "I'm sorry for all the trouble, Mrs. Summers." He slipped one hand into an inner coat pocket as he moved towards them, and then handed her his card. "If there's anything we can do to help, please don't hesitate to call me. This is the first time I've met Don's brother, so they can't really claim I'm biased." He nodded to Charlie, "An' nice ta meet ya, by the way, Doc."

"You too," Charlie returned with a small nod, even as he brought a hands up to rub at his temples with a wince.

Looked like little brother was getting a headache, Don realized with another flash of concern as Charlie winced again. He hoped it was just from the stress of the night and didn't turn into a full-blown migraine. He'd always hated seeing Charlie in any kind of pain at all, but the horrible migraines he sometimes got were a lot worse for him then when Charlie was bullied or something. Don could deal with bullies, but he couldn't do anything about Charlie's own head giving him problems.

"You OK, Buddy?" he asked, a little uncertainly as he glanced towards some of the doctors and nurses bustling around. And again he was kind of surprised by just how many people were busy at work in this small hospital. Some of the hospitals in LA didn't have this much traffic late at night.

Charlie blinked at him, clearly startled by the question. Then he gave a slow nod, obviously not nodding quickly for fear of upsetting his head more than it already was. "Y-Yeah. I'm fine," he waved his hand around them with a grimace. "It's, uh, pretty busy here."

Don nodded in agreement even as the younger, also tuxedo-class male—Harris, if Don's memory was right—snorted.

"It's Sunnydale, what'd you expect? Owe!" Harris yelped when his girlfriend planted her elbow in his side. "Wha—oh. Sorry."

Charlie spoke up before either agent could ask about his initial comment.

"Um, Don and... Billy?" Charlie continued after he'd received a nod from his brother's partner. "These are An—Buffy's friends, too. That's Cordelia."

"Hi," Harris's pretty, cheerleader-type girlfriend waved at them cheerily. But the smile didn't reach her dark eyes, which betrayed her clear worry.

"That's Xander."

Harris waved also, though he was still rubbing his side. "Hey."

"Oz."

The teen that looked a little older than the others, probably Charlie's age, with spiked hair, nodded cordially to them but didn't say anything.

"Willow."

"Hello," the redhead smiled at them, but again it didn't quite reach her eyes, which were continually darting over towards the ER's doors.

"Dr. Rupert Giles."

"Good evening," the Englishman nodded to them, too.

"You a friend of the family, doc?" Billy asked, and Mrs. Summers responded before Giles could.

"A good one, yes." Her tone almost dared them to argue, but both agents ignored it. They weren't supposed to be investigating the victims friends and family, anyway.

"And, uh, this is Faith."

Don's eyebrows shot up as he realized this was his brother's other date.

"Hey," the brunette nodded to them. Dressed in a long, dark-blue dress that showed more cleavage than the other girls, she looked a bit older than them. Somehow Don didn't quite believe that, though. It wasn't anything about the way she was acting. If anything, she was the most alert person there—every time someone entered the room, she seemed to know they were coming before they walked through the door—but remembering how she'd shifted away from the cops at the scene, Don suspected she'd had some bad brushes with the law before. Not at all the kind of girl he'd ever expect Charlie to go out with.

But then again it might, like he'd suspected, be a just-as-friends-thing.

Though, as he met her eyes he could almost see her trying to push her wariness back as she forced a smile. She was, apparently, trying to like him. Possibly for Charlie's sake.

Still, no matter how old she might be or what her background was, the girl was definitely hot. The overall look her make-up inspired was darker, a bit more dark, than Don was used to liking, but it seemed to suit her. In fact, he probably only really noticed the make up because it kind of emphasized each sharp glance she shot towards the waiting room's doors moments before they opened.

How the Hell did she do that, anyway?

He had to keep reminding himself that he was essentially dealing with a victim, here. She wasn't physically hurt, but she was right next to an obviously very close friend when said friend went down. Hell, he was pretty sure she was the one that caught the blonde.

But something about her put him on edge. Every time she tensed, he tensed, too. If he hadn't seen Billy watching her and tensing a few times, too, he might've thought he'd been under a little too much stress lately and really needed some R&R. Not that he probably didn't anyway, as they been running all over the west coast after numerous parole-violators for the last six weeks are so, and then they'd been called after these convicts, but still...

"You OK, Don?"

Don blinked, his eyes snapping over to his brother, who was frowning at him. He forced a grin to his lips even as he bit down on his gum again, "Yeah. Fine," he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Just been busy lately." He raised an eyebrow at Billy, "Don't s'pose we'll be getting a break soon?"

The senior agent replied with a rueful grin, "The wicked never sleep, my friend—"

"So neither can we, yeah, yeah." Don rolled his eyes as he repeated the phrase that was so frequently bounced around fugitive recovery. Despite the cliché, it did seem to amuse his brother and Summers other friends, though. Which was a good thing.

"You're FBI agents, right?" Mrs. Summers spoke up again, her eyes generally focused on him even though they'd dart towards the ER doors every time someone came out, obviously anxious for her daughter.

"Yes, ma'am," Cooper replied before Don could. "Fugitive Recovery."

"So you go after guys that break out of prison, right?" Xander Harris asked, looking interested, but at the same time a little irritated. It was a strange combination, especially since his friends obviously noticed it too, as his girlfriend slipped her hand into his and the others were all watching him even while Don started answering.

"Actually fugitives are anyone who's running or hiding from the law." Don shrugged at the curious looks that turned his way then, not quite used to talking about his job yet, even after a few months on the job. He honestly tried to avoid discussing it when he called home, and after the first few times his parents had stopped asking too much about it. Though he didn't doubt they still worried, which bothered him, but not nearly enough to switch careers.

The redhead spoke up again, still hesitantly, though the interested look in her eyes reminded him of his brother when the genius had found some new, fascinating mathematical concept to study. Which was a little weird to think about, seeing as Charlie was standing a few feet away from him, one arm around the agitated brunette. "Like, um, people who break their parole?"

Don's attention had been caught—and a little confused—by the sight of his brother obviously trying to comfort the frustrated Faith, so when he'd been quiet a second too long, his partner responded.

"Yup. That one's probably the most common, actually." Cooper told them, grinning easily at their audience. Unlike Don, Coop really liked to brag about their work, even outside of hitting the bars. But then again, Coop didn't call home much, either. "Most people think we're running after escaped convicts most of the time, but parole-violators and bail-skippers are a lot more common."

"But you were supposed to catch the guys that hurt Buffy, right?" Harris spoke up again, his irritation a bit more pronounced, but now at least Don understood where it was coming from.

"Yeah, that's what we do." Don confirmed, keeping his tone as gentle as he could as he nodded.

"Mrs. Summers," Billy spoke up before Xander could get going. "We did receive intel' earlier this evening that several people believed your daughter might be the target, but no one could tell us why. Do you have any idea why three professional hit men would break out of jail to come after your daughter."

Left unspoken was the obvious reason: that someone had put out a hit on her. A pretty big one, if it had gotten three hit-men to work together. The weirder part, though, was that they'd shot her with a dart instead of a bullet.

Mrs. Summers sighed and looked down, shaking her head slightly as she replied, "I honestly have no idea," her shoulders seemed to sink under the weight of definite stress and weariness that made Don feel bad from her.

But he still knew she was lying. It was obvious in the way she suddenly avoided eye-contact, and his gut caught it right away. And from looking at the rest of the assembled –suddenly nervous—friends, it was pretty clear they knew, too.

He opened mouth to question it, but stopped when Charlie suddenly caught his eyes. The wary worry in his brother's eyes made Don pause as an unhappy realization settled in.

Thinking back on the way his brother had acted in the club and to the way he was acting it now, it was fairly obvious to Don that Charlie knew what was going on, too.

Don wasn't sure what to say to that right away. Part of him wanted to demand answers, while the other part really didn't want to know what his genius-kid-brother might be involved in.

Before he could decide what to do, though, his partners phone rang.

"Billy Cooper," Coop answered his phone, his tone short even as his shoulder's drew up for the second response. "Yeah, boss. Got it, but—" he stopped, frowning severely as their boss obviously cut him off. A few seconds later he nodded, sounding all the more weary as he spoke again. "Yeah, boss. I got it... Yup. Bye." He snapped his phone close with a sigh, then shook his head as he met Don's eyes. "We've gotta go."

"But—"

"I know, Eppes," Coop snapped, then shook his head again. "But the Statey's are gonna handle this. Boss wants us back in LA. Now."

Don closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again to turn back to his brother with a frown. "I'll call later, OK?"

Charlie nodded, and Don really hoped it was his imagination that made his little brother looked so relieved at his departure. "Yeah, Don... And thanks."

"My cell's on there, Mrs. Summers," Billy pointed out, nodding to the card that was still in the older woman's hand. "Please don't hesitate to call me if you think of anything."

"Thank you," Joyce Summers nodded in response, the warm smile that—was somehow both sincere and forced—she offered them again reminded Don of his own mother. "It was nice to meet you both." Her eyes then focused on Don. "Buffy really will be sorry she missed you. But I know she's planning on visiting your parents in LA a few times this summer, maybe you could coordinate visits?"

Don found he didn't quite have to force a smile in response, "I'm sure my Mom and Dad'll make a bid for it." He reached out a hand to catch his brother's shoulder again, just as Cooper's cell phone rang again.

"Bill—Yeah, we're leaving, boss." Coop shot him an annoyed look that he knew wasn't directed at him even as the other agent started to make his way out of the room. "Seriously, we'll...We are leaving. Really."

Shaking his head, Don gave his brother's shoulder another quick squeeze, "Talk to you later, alright." Then he turned on his heel and walked quickly after his partner, a deep frown working its way onto his face as his mind ran through everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Though a part of him really hoped their boss's slightly uncharacteristic impatience didn't mean they already had another case. Though it probably did, as their boss wasn't the most patient of men at the best of times, but usually wasn't all that bad after they'd successfully caught the guys he'd sent them after.

He really did need some R&R.

And he'd like to know what the Hell was going on with Charlie's friends...

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General Hospital, Sunnydale, California – Sunday, October 13, 1996

Charlie sighed as he glanced towards the door again. Mrs. Summers had sent Willow, Xander, Oz and Cordelia home hours ago, shortly after they'd been admitted to Annie's room, with Dr. Giles' support. She'd tried to send Giles, Faith and Charlie home, too, but couldn't really play the concerned-parent card with Giles and Charlie and Faith were not above calling her a hypocrite when she tried to send them home.

Still, Faith had finally given into her frustration and decided to go take her anger out on Sunnydale's demon population. She was furious enough, and had kept it so pent up for several hours, that Charlie had almost found himself feeling bad for any demons and vampires she encounter.

He'd had an awful hard time keeping her calm most of the evening and her fluctuating emotions had given him a headache. Though it'd been a lot worse when Don, Billy Cooper and all of the Scoobies were here. Way too much worry, confusion and frustration in the small room for his still developing senses. Especially when he was pretty sure he was feeling all of that on his own, just from not being able to sense anything from Annie.

As the only Watcher in Sunnydale, Giles hadn't wanted to leave Annie's side either. But he couldn't let the furious Faith go off on her own, either. Nor could he, reasonably, keep her pent up—pacing like a wounded panther—in the small hospital room.

It had made the exceedingly nice and helpful hospital staff nervous. Especially when she accidentally broke the window—that really wasn't supposed to open half the distance she'd managed, but couldn't withstand Slayer-strength—and then the armrest of her chair.

Obviously anger had a pronounced affect on a Slayer's ability to control herself. Which made sense in a fight, he guessed, but hadn't been good for these circumstances.

So Faith had stormed out of the hospital, with Giles hurrying after her, several hours ago. Seeing as the sun was already rising, he was more than a little surprised she hadn't come back yet.

Maybe Giles had actually convinced her into going home to bed, but somehow he suspected she'd been Slaying for the last five hours and would soon return here, an exhausted Watcher in her wake.

The hospital staff really had been awful helpful. He was pretty sure, that it wasn't commonly allowed for so many people to stay with a patient. Nor did he think it usual for the nurses to bring coffee and snacks to the anxious friends and family. But he'd seen about a dozen different nurses and three different doctors stop by to check on Buffy and whoever was in her room in the last six hours. Actually, he realized with another glance at the clock, they seemed to be checking in on them at least every half hour, so one should be stopping by soon...

A sound at the door made him look up, forcing a small smile as he expected to see another nurse or doctor—not Faith and Giles because there was no way he could miss Faith's approach, considering the maelstrom of violent emotions that were probably still radiating off of her—there, but that smile quickly gave way to confusion at who was actually there.

He blinked for a moment as he tiredly tried to remember the man's name. Numbers and codes and puzzles he was good at. Very good at. Names—and spelling—he was not. Not remotely.

"Mr. ... Collins?"

The Watchers Council operative nodded, his expression and tone supremely neutral as he replied, "Good morning, Doctor Eppes." His words were soft as he glanced towards Annie's bed, where the Slayer was still unconscious, with her mother having dozed off next to her some time before. He stepped into the room and gestured towards Annie's mom, muttering something under his breath as he did so, before gesturing to Charlie, too.

Charlie felt the exhaustion of the last several hours suddenly hit him again, all at once, and his eyelids started to droop. He probably would've dozed off earlier himself, if he wasn't so disconcerted about not being able to feel anything from Annie. And if his empathetic senses hadn't responded to this by latching onto all the emotion it could find nearby. Which in a hospital was, unsurprisingly, a lot. Though he wasn't sensing much from Alastair Collins, which made him wonder if people associated with organizations that were aware of magic knew about some way of shielding themselves in some way, but he shook his head as the Watchers operative spoke up again.

Still, with exhaustion dragging his eyelids down just then, he probably would've fallen asleep immediately, if a burst of energy and an irritated growl from Sineya hadn't stopped him. When he looked back at Collins, the man looked a bit surprised, but quickly regained his composure.

"Has Miss Summers regained consciousness, yet?"

He still couldn't sense the Englishman's emotions, but somehow he didn't think the man was surprised when Charlie shook his head. "No. She hasn't." He sighed. "I don't think the doctors even know what's wrong. They said the dart she was hit with had a really high concentration of muscle relaxants and adrenaline suppressors in it, but," he shook his head and sighed again. "They couldn't even figure out what the drugs themselves were. Beyond the basic effects they had, I mean."

"The doctors ran a blood test?"

Charlie couldn't cheat and read the man's emotions, but he was pretty sure he heard disapproval in the older man's voice, and it didn't take a genius IQ level to realize why. He wasn't sure why he lied in response. "No. Mrs. Summers wouldn't let them. But Faith pulled the dart out of Buffy's neck before all of it had gone in, so they tested that and just kept responding to—" Charlie sent a worried glance towards Annie, and found the image of her lying there—pale and to all appearances lifeless—just as disturbing as it had been the first time he entered the room, and every time since then. "She was having trouble breathing. And her heart stopped once."

He'd felt that. Even though Annie wasn't emotionally conscious of it—wasn't transmitting what she was feeling at the time—he had felt her body's physical distress. Though he was pretty sure Sineya was actually shielding him from most of it.

"That's not surprising," Collins told him, his tone now much more gentle. "Physically, her powers get a massive boost from adrenaline, so the suppressors would leave her severely handicapped. And the second most important part of the Slayer's physical make-up is her muscles, which are understandably much stronger and more enduring then an ordinary human beings. But the muscle relaxants would also effectively weaken that additional strength by targeting the source."

Charlie's frown deepened, "But...aren't her powers magical?"

Collins nodded, "Yes. But though her Calling grants her considerable power, the Slayer still has many human weaknesses. Any of which may be targeted at any time." He cocked his head to the side, looking thoughtful. "Though the dart's particular cocktail suggests a rather keen awareness of a Slayer's biological weaknesses." His eyes suddenly came up to meet Charlie's again. "Are you aware of any particular enemies the Slayers have made? Human enemies?"

Charlie blinked, "Umm... Did Dr. Giles tell you—"

"We are aware of all that occurred last night, yes." The Council operative nodded again, "We have the Gruenstahler brothers and their employer in custody. The Misquot-demon's remains have also been dealt with." Then his neutral expression slipped a bit as a frown emerged, "Though the vampire Trick is proving to be rather elusive. And the men in FBI custody are understandably more difficult to detain. I understand they were supposedly hired by Trick?"

"That's what Jungle Bob—he was in the forest, Faith and Buffy questioned him, but then knocked him out—that's what he said." Then Charlie frowned, "Though he didn't seem to think Trick had actually called the other hit men. And they only broke out of jail a few days ago, so..."

"Calling for them would seem a bit strange, yes." Collins agreed with another nod. "They merely knocked this 'Jungle Bob' unconscious?"

"Yeah, Buffy punched him." Charlie grimaced, "she really couldn't do anything else. There were a lot of others hunting us, so we had to run and he was human so…" the mathematician shrugged.

"Slayers are not supposed to kill humans," Collins nodded again. "I will send a team into the woods to ascertain the final hunter's fate." This his face became completely neutral again, before he continued. "Do you know where the dart that Miss Summers was hit with is?"

"Umm, no. I mean, the hospital had a sample of it but—" Charlie shook his head. "The FBI probably kept it, right?"

"That is likely," Collins nodded again. Then he leaned back through the doorway, looking both ways, before entering the room and closing the door behind him. He then held his hand over the doorknob for a moment, muttering something Charlie could understand. When he turned away from the door, and came around to Charlie's side of Annie's bed—undoubtedly mindful of Mrs. Summer's exhausted, sleeping form on the opposite side—Charlie could see that the doorknob was emitting a faint blue glow.

"What—" the mathematician was frowning deeply as he rose, glancing between the door and the representative of the Watchers Council as the Englishman pulled a long, thin plastic case out of a deep pocket in his dark jacket. "What are you doing?"

"Mr. Caldwell indicated you wished to know why we were not more proactive in helping the Slayer." The Englishman replied, though his eyes were focused on the combination-lock that kept his small case closed. "For the most part, sadly, it's pure politics. But we do help wherever we can. When the Council, itself, will allow it."

That didn't dismiss Charlie's frown, "Allow it?"

Collins nodded as he finally finished the combination code for the case and popped it open. "And the majority of the Council believes that intervention, for this problem, is both acceptable and necessary."

"OK, uh," Charlie shook his head. "What exactly does that mean?" When Collins pulled a large needle full of some kind of liquid out of the case, Charlie was out of his chair and between the Watcher and Annie's bed before he even registered moving. "What are you doing?" He demanded, a surge of panic making him raise his voice. But when he—perhaps foolishly—looked away from the Watcher to Joyce Summers, he saw that she was still asleep. Turning to glare at the operative, fueled in part by Sineya's obvious dislike of him, he demanded, "What did y—"

"Relax, Doctor." Collins' raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, though one of them still carefully held onto the large needle. "I'm not going to hurt her. And Mrs. Summers is merely sleeping." Moving the hand that contained the needle, to indicate it, "From Dr. Giles recent report, we determined that a cocktail similar to what you described was undoubtedly used to incapacitate the Slayer. This is simply meant to help Miss Summers overcome that cocktail. To help her wake up sooner than she otherwise might."

"But—"

"Though there were no vampires at the school dance, many people still saw Miss Summers being loaded into that ambulance. They will talk. And though they only think of us, for the most part, as food, vampires do listen to gossip." Collins lowered his hands to slip the container back in his pocket, before moving to step around Charlie. "The Slayer cannot be left incapacitated for long, especially not on the Hellmouth."

When he saw Collins moving to remove the cap on the needle, and looking at the IV that Annie was plugged into, again Charlie moved without thinking, reaching out to grab the older man's wrist.

Exasperation and then sudden surprise registered immediately, in the brief instant of contact with the other man's skin, as Charlie's empathetic senses were suddenly flooded by the emotional presence he couldn't feel before. But he couldn't remotely get a handle on anything else he was sensing before he the man's wrist suddenly slipped out of his hold, and an instant later Charlie suddenly found himself bent over in almost familiar, uncomfortably awkward position with the older man's arm locked around his throat, joined a moment later by Collins' empty hand settling on the back of his head to push his head and neck forward into the crook of the Watchers' elbow.

Even as his suddenly frantic mind was running through the numbers on how long it took a person to choke to death—which he'd researched shortly after Gunn had tried to teach him a chokehold—and Sineya, for some reason wanted him to move his elbows—he couldn't breathe and she wanted him to move his elbows?!—more emotions hit his empathetic senses through the contact of the man's hand on the back of his head even as he kept trying to pull the man's arm away, his hands slipping repeatedly over the Watcher's sleeve.

Surprise gave way to acceptance, then begrudging, but slightly amused respect.

And suddenly Charlie was free again, able to stumble forward away from the Watcher, who held onto one of his shoulders till he found his feet and was able to spin around of his own accord. Charlie stared at him even as he pulled heavy gasps of air into his now sore throat.

Collins spoke before he could, a speculative look in his eyes. "You're an empath."

That made Charlie blink. The man had just started choking him to death and that was the first thing he said after letting him go? Charlie shook his head.

Collins chuckled, "You can't deny it, Dr. Eppes. I sensed your empathetic attack. All Watchers are trained to shield against telepaths and empaths, but it's nearly impossible to do with direct physical contact. Particularly not with an empath as strong as yourself."

"I'm not—" Charlie stopped when the Watcher raised an eyebrow at him. "Why did you..."

"Sorry about that," Collins shrugged, shaking his head and actually allowing a slightly sheepish expression to take hold of his face for a moment. "But in the future, you really shouldn't try to grab someone with my training and experience. Especially not by surprise. That move is kind of instinctive for me. At least when I'm not more heavily armed and expecting attacks, then my response would undoubtedly be much more dangerous." Tilting his head towards Annie's bed, he added, "As, I'm sure, a Slayer's would be. Though she's much more dangerous without weapons than any human can be."

Charlie shook his head, "An—Buffy wouldn't—"

"They would, Doctor. If you surprised them at a bad moment, something bad would almost certainly happen." Collins cut in firmly, his expression hardening. "Though the Council does have protocols and directives for those kinds of situations."

"What do you m—"

"But enough on that, Miss Summers does need this," the Watcher indicated the still full needle that he'd apparently set on her bedside table sometime in between when Charlie had tried to grab him and when he'd released him. "I can't drop my shields so close to the Hellmouth. But I will allow you to read my emotions now, if you'd like."

Charlie looked at the hand the man held out towards him, more than a little uncertain. After all, he hadn't consciously decided to try to read the man's emotions that way before. He hadn't even known physical contact could overcome the shielding he'd suspect—and now knew—that the Watcher had. Which was probably something like what the lawyers from Wolfram and Hart had, now that he thought about it. He shook his head, "I don't—"

"She needs the antidote, Dr. Eppes. The Slayer's healing-abilities could undoubtedly overcome a much lower dose, or even several lower doses, given time. And I don't doubt she could recover from this on her own, given time. But she does not have that time." Collins raised his open hand a little higher. "Please."

After a long moment of silence—during which Sineya was indicating her favor of this idea—Charlie sighed and took several hesitant steps forward. "Okay..." and reaching up, he lightly grasped hold of the older man's hand with two of his, closing his eyes as the flood of emotions hit him again, taking the time to process them.

First and foremost came the acceptance he'd felt earlier. Behind it was the lingering respect and no small amount of worry.

Nothing negative. No deceit or hate. Not even any dislike or suspicion.

Sineya finally stopped growling.

Charlie opened his eyes, stepping back after releasing the man's hand, and nodded as he did so. "OK. How does this work?"

"What's in this, ya mean?" Collins shrugged as he moved over to the table to pick the needle up again. "No clue. But I watched a healer I trust put it together, so I know it'll work. And it won't hurt her."

"A healer?" the mathematician asked a little uncertainly. "You mean a witch, making something magical—"

"Rather than anything scientific, yeah. Something like that." Collins nodded again. "Now, since she's already recovering on her own, she definitely doesn't need this whole does." So saying, he stuck the need into the IV attached to Annie's arm, depressing the plunger until about a third of the needle's contents had gone all the way into the tube that several nurses had given her similar injections earlier. "But I'll be tellin' the Council that she did and leavin' the rest a this with you."

Again, Charlie had to blink in confusion. "W-Why?" then it hit him, "You think they'll attack again?"

The man replied as he pulled the still mostly full needle out and put the cap back on, his back to Charlie. "Something like that." He was grinning as he turned back around. "Always prepare for the worst and hope for the best, right?"

Charlie shook his head. "I guess..."

Taking the container out of his pocket, he put the needle back inside and closed it, turning the lock to reseal it before holding it out to Charlie. "The combination's seven—"

"Seven, thirty-three and eighteen," Charlie cut him off without even thinking about it as he accepted the case, then shrugged when the man raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm good at remembering numbers, and the angles on those things aren't hard to keep track of."

Collins nodded slowly, a small smile making its way onto his face. "Even without knowing you're an empath, the Council didn't doubt that someone of your IQ could be a great asset to the Slayers." He cocked his head to the side, "In fact, I wouldn't be too surprised if you received an offer to join the actual Council within the next few years. Though probably not while Miss Summers is the Slayer."

"Why not?"

"You care about the current Slayers too much."

Charlie frowned again, "Dr. Giles—"

"Knows better than to become too emotionally attached to his Slayers." Collins shook his head, "That's been a part of Council regulations for centuries. We support the Slayer in her Calling. No more, no less." Before Charlie could think of anything to say to that, he continued. "I won't be reporting your empathetic abilities to the Council, it'd be best if you could keep those a secret."

Charlie was getting a little tired of blinking in surprise, but he did it anyway. "Why?"

"You're human. And humans who are naturally empathetic are exceedingly rare. But all the human empaths that history knows of were quite a bit more powerful than most demonic-empaths and telepaths. And prized for that reason." Shaking his head, Collins reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small notebook and a pen. Turning to an empty page he quickly scrawled down several things, before ripping the page out and handing it to Charlie. "That's the contact info for me and most of my team. The Council doesn't track any of it, our mages makes sure of that." He sighed, "And you'll probably see whoever was behind this, again. Since the dart actually managed to hit Miss Summers, it had to be enchanted. That's something our mages can help with, too. Dr. Giles should call for help if that's the case. If you, Dr. Eppes, run into any trouble, call us."

Then he turned on his heel and left. The doorknob stopped glowing immediately, and as Charlie sank back into his seat near Annie's bed.

As he watched her, Charlie suddenly remembered why Sineya had wanted him to move his elbows. According to Gunn—he'd been taught even as the Watch leader tried to teach him an actual chokehold—driving his elbow back into someone's gut was a good way to escape a chokehold. Charlie rubbed at his sore throat, wincing a little as he did so. No matter how debatable the effectiveness of said trick might be on vampires, it probably would have been a good thing to remember earlier.

"Good morning," the familiar, cheery voice of one of the hospital's nurses made Charlie start, but he forced himself to relax and pull his hand away from his throat at the nurse ran a quick check of Annie's vitals and Joyce started to wake up.

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General Hospital, Sunnydale, California – Sunday, October 13, 1996

Buffy moaned lightly as she stared coming to. Her entire body felt sore and tired. Something she hadn't experienced in years. Even before becoming the Slayer, it'd take a pretty brutal work out to wear her out this much.

"Annie?"

She winced at the definite note of concern in Charlie's voice, which she felt quite clearly across their bond. Forcing her eyes open, which was surprisingly difficult. It almost felt like someone had super-glued her eyelashes down, or something like that.

It took a few seconds, but finally she managed and slowly turned her eyes in the direction Charlie's voice had come from, to meet his gaze.

"Hey..." she offered weakly.

"Hi sleepy head," Charlie smiled down at her, though there was still definitely a lot of worry in his eyes and on his mind. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired... And achy." Buffy tried to shake her head in response, but stopped as she realized that'd take a lot more effort than it should. "What hit me?"

Charlie sighed, and shook his head. "The guys my brother was looking for were waiting for us outside of The Bronze. You tried to catch the dart they shot at you, remember?"

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, trying to call the memory up. As the events of last night came sluggishly back to her, she opened them again. "Wasn't aimed at me. Aimed at Faith. But it moved—hit me."

"The Watchers Council thinks that whoever hired them might've used magic."

Buffy felt her face contracted in a slight wince. "Hate magic. It's cool when Debs and Cons do it, but..."

"But you don't like fighting it," Charlie nodded in understanding, before raising an eyebrow. "Debs and Cons?"

"Leave me alone, I'm tired and feel like crap." Buffy finished by sticking her tongue out at him. Though, like him, she'd probably never actually call the two witches by those nicknames. Their long, fancy names really seemed to suit them too much.

"Sorry," Charlie replied, though he was grinning.

Buffy closed her eyes for a second, then opened them again, frowning slightly as she realized they were the only ones in the hospital room. "Where's...Mom? And—"

"The nurses talked your mom into going down to the cafeteria for a quick supper. Dr. Giles is with Faith on her patrol, again. And Willow dragged everyone else home to finish their homework for tomorrow."

That didn't make Buffy feel much better. "How long was I out for?"

Charlie sighed, "It's almost seven. They brought you in just before eleven o'clock last night. So just shy of twenty hours." The mathematician looked down for a second, shaking his head before he looked up. "One of the Watchers Council guys—Mr. Collins—he came last night and gave you a shot of something. Said it would help."

"So this is how I feel with the antidote for whatever poison they hit me with?" Buffy groaned softly. "Damn." Then noticing an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling in the back of her throat, she asked softly. "Could I have some water, please?"

"Sure," she heard Charlie jump up and move away, and winced as she felt the distance between them quite clearly along their bond. The sound of running water started nearby, then stopped, and Charlie hurried back a few seconds later. "Here."

As he gently slipped an arm behind her shoulders, supporting her neck with his hand, she struggled to push herself up and was more than a little aghast that Charlie had to pull her up almost entirely on his own. Still, she opened her eyes to look down at the small cup of water he was holding before her, and opened her mouth as he brought it against her lips, tipping it slightly to pour a small amount of water into her throat. She wanted to bring an arm up to hold the cup herself, but found that even trying to raise her arm slightly took too much effort. She moaned when Charlie took the cup away.

"Shh," Charlie's voice was soft, and still worried as he continued. "You can't drink too fast, OK? Do you want more?"

"Yah," Buffy confirmed softly, taking a deep breath before he brought the cup to her lips again and poured more water into her mouth. They repeated that process several times, until she finished the relatively small cup. Then, after Charlie had helped her lay back and then took his seat next to her again, the empty cup on the bedside table, she asked, "Did you have dinner yet?"

Charlie shook his head, smiling slightly. "The nurse thought I was asleep, and she didn't want to wake me since I didn't sleep last night." The bags under his eyes lent credence to his claims. "They'll probably bring me something the next time they check in on you in the next half-hour or so. They brought us breakfast and lunch today, but I guess they wanted to make your Mom walk around a bit, or something."

"You should go too." Buffy told him, slowly forcing the soft words to form, her face aching with the effort. "Could tell 'er I'm awake."

Charlie shook his head again. "I'm fine." His smile widened a little then, "It's real nice to see you awake, though. I couldn't even sense you when you were unconscious." He looked down with a sigh, "It kind of scared me."

"'M sorry."

He looked up, frowning and shaking his head. "Don't be. It's not your fault." He glanced towards the door then, rising a little as someone else entered the room. "She's awake."

"I'll let Dr. Owen know."

Buffy turned just in time to see a gray-haired nurse leaving the room, and sighed as she let her eyes close again.

"You can't go to sleep again, yet," Charlie told her mildly. "The doctor might think I was lying."

"I'm awake," Buffy replied softly. Even though it was taking quite a bit of focus to remain so.

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General Hospital, Sunnydale, California – Sunday, October 13, 1996

Charlie smiled several hours later as Annie's eyes opened again.

She'd put up with the doctors and nurses moving her around and asking questions. Received a hug from her mother much more happily. And then, with a smiling doctor's permission, promptly gone back to sleep.

Three hours later—when he should've been home, and several hours after his parents would have picked him up if he hadn't called them earlier in the day—she looked a lot better.

"Hey, sleepy head," he greeted her again.

Annie smiled in return, "Hi Charlie." Then she looked around, again, with a frown that Charlie interpreted with surprising ease.

"Your Mom ran home to make sure the gallery was alright without her tomorrow. Dr. Giles is patrolling with Faith. Willow, Oz, Cordelia and Xander are supposedly home in bed because it's a school night."

"Oh." After another long moment, Annie nodded. "OK. Shouldn't you be—"

"I don't have anywhere to be this week. Not really." Charlie shook his head. "So my Dad's going to pick me up on Wednesday."

A noise from the door made both of them turn to blink as a huge bouquet of flowers came through in the arms of a nurse in pale pink scrubs.

"Looks like someone's hoping you get better soon, deary," the nurse commented as she gently set the flowers down on the table nearest the window. After checking to make sure the pricey looking vase was safely placed on the table, and the flowers within neatly arranged, the nurse gave them both a warm smile before leaving again.

Charlie blinked in surprise, more than a little bewildered, as Annie gave him a warm smile. He shook his head as he realized that the vibrant arrangement of autumn-shades of orange and yellow, sporadically broken by pale pink roses, did closely resemble the bouquet he'd sent her a few weeks ago.

"Charlie?"

Again, the mathematician shook his head, "They look like the ones I picked out for you a while back. But you got those already. Your mom's still weaning as much time as she can out of them."

"You didn't—"

"I didn't think of it when we couldn't see you. I saw my brother off before you were moved into here, and I haven't left your side since," Charlie gave her an apologetic smile. "Honestly, I haven't thought of it. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," the Slayer shook her head. Though he could sense a bit of disappointment from her at the revelation that he hadn't sent them, she also seemed a little pleased for some reason. Nodding towards the bouquet, she raised an eyebrow. "So who're they from?"

"I don't—" Charlie shook his head as he rose, moving around her bed to reach the flowers. "Willow and the others have all been here on and off, and they didn't mention—oh. There's a card," he pulled the folded piece of paper out of the careful arrangement and brought it over to her.

Handing it to her, Charlie leaned down to read over her shoulder as she opened it. Matching frowns found their way onto both of their faces as they read the words that were penned in a neat, unfamiliar handwriting inside.

Best wishes for a prompt recovery to Miss Buffy Summers.

We trust our point has been made.

Hopefully our future interactions will be more fruitful.

Ads Condemn Idyll

"Huh," Buffy shook her head, frowning at the note. "Weird message. Doesn't say who it's from, either. And what's 'ads condemn idyll' supposed to mean? Is that even English?"

Charlie took the card back from her and scrutinized the words within for several seconds of puzzled silence, his brow furrowing in concentration.

Annie let him mumble to himself for several seconds before she asked again, "Well? Any ideas? I don't think that's your mom or dad's handwriting... Is it Don's?" She clearly didn't have a clue as to why Charlie's brother might send her a message like that, but the handwriting was completely foreign to her, too, so it wasn't someone she knew. But it wasn't a handwriting he recognized, either. "Charlie?"

"Huh? Oh, no." The genius blinked, and then shook his head. "No, it's not Don." Looking the words over again, he nodded to himself and a deeper frown settled firmly across his face as he remembered Agent Coopers words about a 'big shot lawyer in LA' defending the guys that had attacked Annie.

"Charlie?"

After a moment, he sighed, "It is signed. With an anagram."

"A what?" the still slightly woozy Slayer blinked at him.

"An anagram," Charlie repeated, nodding to the card in her hand. He started to reach for it, but stopped and withdrew his hand again when he saw it was shaking. "The letters of the last sentence rearrange into a name."

Annie blinked again, glancing down at the confusing last sentence with a frown before she looked back up at her friend again. "Who's name?"

"Lindsey McDonald."

---

End of

Chapter 9: Mortal Peril – Part IV.

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AN: Dun-Dun-Dunnnn.

I thought that rounded off Mortal Peril pretty well, what'd you think? :-D

And it's not even a cliffhanger.

Well it kinda is, but not really, really.

I wanted to add in a scene with the actual doctors, but never managed to figure out something that actually worked well. I also wanted to have Don come barging in when Collins was choking Charlie, but that wouldn't have worked with the storyline, so I stopped myself.

...Though it was, again, a bit longer than I'd originally planned. -_-*

Nonetheless, I think that turned out pretty well, though, what'd you think?

From within the chapter itself:

(1) I actually already knew 9.8 m/s(squared)—science classes are good for something, occasionally—but I confirmed it on Wikipedia.

(2) I know almost NO German, so I spent a rather long time looking for an appropriate swear word translated into German. This is, supposedly, 'bitch'.

...And that's all, I guess.

Bye for now! ^_^

Jess S

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NEXT: Chapter 10: Frienemies – Part I.