For the sake of our story's timeline, we're going to pretend that the Buffy episode "Angel" is a lot later in the first season.

Vincent plopped down on the sofa they'd hauled into the mini-theater he'd created in dry goods storage.

"What did I miss?" He offered them popcorn, but both Lizzie and Ayers declined with a wave.

"They're at the teeny-bopper club," she answered, grinning. "Talking about boys."

"You sure you wanna be here for this?" Vincent said to Ayers from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, stop." Lizzie flapped a hand at him. "I'm sure as soon as they leave they'll get jumped by vampires or werewolves, or someone in a laughably bad shark mask. That'll make Ayers's day." She winked at him.

Ayers's preoccupied expression lightened at this flirty display, like any guy with a thing for doe eyes and long lashes would.

On the screen Buffy said, 'I'm sorry, I was just thinking about things.'

'So, we're talking about a guy?' asked the cutesy redheaded one whose name Vincent could never remember.

'Not exactly a guy. For us to have a conversation about a guy, there'd have to be a guy for us to have a conversation about.'

'What about Angel?'

'Angel? I can just see him in a relationship. "Hi, honey, you're in grave danger. I'll see you next month." '

Lizzie laughed. Ayers didn't. Vincent ate his popcorn.

'He's not around much, it's true. But when he is around, it's like the lights dim everywhere else. You know how it's like that with some guys?'

"Aww," Lizzie commented with a smile, tapping her feet together girlishly. "I remember high school crushes."

Ayers looked at her without moving his head.

Vincent asked, "How is a show about monsters so relationship-focused? Maybe it's because the cast is good-looking."

"I know, right?" Lizzie said with glee. "It's probably because I'm turning forty, but Giles is hot."

Ayers glared poisonously at the TV projection even though the character in question was not on screen. Lizzie did not notice because she was trying her best to be casual and avoid staring at him.

She was on her fourth cup of tea, however.

"It's not because you'll be forty tomorrow," Vincent said. "Anthony Head was a very handsome man."

Lizzie leaned back to look across at Vincent, missing Ayers's impressive grump-face.

"You think Giles is hot, too?" she questioned.

"Sure. Just because I'm hetero doesn't mean I can't appreciate a man's attractiveness." He gestured to the one sitting between them. "Take Ayers for examp—ah!" Vincent made an involuntary noise at the Giles-inspired scowl that Ayers turned on him. "Damn. Maybe when you're not quite this irritated." The merc looked like he was ready to tear out Anthony Head's liver.

Lizzie frowned, craning her neck to get a look at Ayers's face.

"Dial it down a little," Vincent whispered to him, concealed by the noise of the alleyway fight scene that had just started. "You'll scare her."

Ayers schooled his face into an impassive expression. When he sat back, Lizzie said with concern, "You don't like Buffy anymore? We can watch something else." She grinned mischievously. "I could get Harry and we'll pop in 101 Dalmatians. You like animals, right?"

Ayers shook his head vigorously, eyes wide. No, no, Buffy is fine, said his expression.

She chuckled and sat back against the couch. Vincent was happy to see she didn't mind her shoulder brushing Ayers's arm. Ayers also looked pleased with the seating arrangements.

'I was lucky you came along. … How did you happen to come along?' Buffy asked.

'I live nearby. I was just out walking.'

Vincent squinted. The Angel character was definitely lying about something.

'So, you weren't following me? I just had this feeling you were.'

'Why would I do that?'

'You tell me. You're the mystery guy that appears out of nowhere. I'm not saying I'm not happy about it tonight, but ... if you are hanging around, I'd like to know why.'

'Maybe I like you.'

The slayer fluttered her lashes, much like Vincent's wife had whenever he told her Erika was staying the night at a friend's house.

Lizzie giggled into her mug. "Adorable." Ayers observed her pink cheeks from the corner of his eye, smiling slightly.

'What does your family think of your career choice?'

'They're dead.'

'I'm sorry.'

'It was a long time ago.'

'So this is a vengeance gig for you?'

All was going well until they reached Buffy and Angel's first kiss, and the guy got all toothy. The girl screamed, and he ran away.

"Huh," Vincent said mildly, scooping more popcorn into his mouth. "I should have seen that coming."

Lizzie sat forward on the couch, her eyes flashing. "He's a vampire? Angel's a vampire?"

"Looks like. Now that I think about it," Vincent said around his mouthful, "he did dodge the question about how old he was. And where he's from. And where he lives. And –"

Lizzie's face darkened with real anger. "That son of a bitch."

Vincent hastily swallowed his popcorn. Ayers became tense, sitting straighter on the couch.

"That fucking asshole. I liked him!" Her long, curly hair seemed to fluff around her head and shoulders like a lion's mane as she suddenly stood up and began to pace the floor.

"Lizzie, it's just a TV –"

"Bastard! He lied to her!" She was truly upset.

"Well, I mean, not exa–"

"No, Vincent. Lies of omission are still lies. He let her assume all sorts of nice things about him so she would think what he wanted her to think." Her nostrils flared with her furious breaths. "That fucker," she spat. "I should have known. I bet 'Angel' isn't even his real name; it's a smokescreen."

Vincent put his bowl aside. "Look, we can turn this off since you're not enjoying it. Cheesy teen drama, anyway."

"No." Lizzie plopped herself down on the couch and crossed her arms. "I want to see how it ends," she said darkly.

Ayers looked very uncomfortable. He wasn't usually put off by Lizzie's mercurial moods, but right now he was probably thinking that the fight scenes weren't worth sitting through all this tedious relationship stuff.

They sat in a tense silence until the scene switched back to the quasi-boyfriend's apartment.

Lizzie glared icily at the display. "Oh, look: it's Darla. Of course it's fuckin' Darla. Of course he was in a relationship with the very first vampire you ever see on the show. And now here she is in his apartment wearing a Catholic schoolgirl outfit."

She brandished a hand in a frustrated gesture. "Now they're flirting. Perfect. Fucking perfect."

Vincent didn't bother with the usual bad-language rebuke because she was definitely not in the mood to be controlled.

'You and I both know what you hunger for. What you need,' said the blonde vampire. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's what makes eternal life worth living.'

"Oh, sure. Killing is what makes life worth living. Who wrote this garbage?"

Ayers fiddled with his gauntlets.

'You can only suppress your real nature for so long. I can feel it brewing inside of you. I hope I'm around when it explodes.'

"Right, because a bad temper is so attractive," Lizzie snapped.

The blonde taunted him again, 'What did you think? Did you think she would understand? That she would look at your face – your true face – and give you a kiss?'

Ayers shifted restlessly. There definitely wasn't enough monster-slaying in this episode to keep his interest. He was here for the violence and the blood, not the angst and the talk-talk-talk.

'For a hundred years you have not had a moment of peace because you will not accept who you are.'

"Fuckin' liar, is who he is." She was hardly even blinking.

'Talk to her. Tell her about the curse,' the blonde woman dared him. Maybe she'll come around. And if she still doesn't trust you … you know where I'll be.'

Maybe watching Buffy hadn't been such a good idea. Vincent opened his mouth to suggest they do something else.

Lizzie snorted in disgust. "Ten bucks says Angel kills her by the end of the season. You watch. It'll be especially brutal. They always make it ten times more awful when the 'bad' girl used to be the 'good' guy's girlfriend. You just fucking watch."

Vincent moved his hand toward the projector control. He halted when Lizzie turned to him with fierce eyes. Usually she noticed everything about Ayers, but now she was looking right through him.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen. He's going to give Buffy the big puppy-dog eyes and she'll forgive everything he did. And then he'll do something to hurt her again. Every damn time. He lies; she forgives him. He hurts her; she forgives him. He tries to fucking murder her and surprise, surprise: she forgives him. No wonder the 2000s sucked; even their girl-power shows were brainwashing their people with bullshit like this."

Vincent frowned. "I don't remember Angel trying to kill Bu–"

Lizzie made a wordless snarling noise and Vincent stopped. The final fight scene started, and it only made her more angry. "What a bunch of pseudo-feminist bullshit. Oh look, this tiny woman can take all these punches to the face, so let's just do it over and over and over again. 'It's fine, see? She'll heal. Hit her some more!' "

From the way he was handling them, Ayers couldn't decide if he wanted to put on his gauntlets or lay them aside.

"See? Angel just kicked Buffy," Lizzie said bitterly. "Fucking typical. … And he stabs his ex-girlfriend in the back. What an absolutely unexpected turn of events." She ground her teeth.

The actors switched back to their usual longing glances now that the big bad ex was dead.

"There it is: the puppy-dog eyes. Those are 'I've done horrible things, but I'm sorry now' eyes."

'Look, this can't …'

'Ever be anything. I know. For one thing you're, like, 224 years older than I am.'

'I gotta walk away from this.'

'Me too.'

"She should be running in the opposite direction, but they're going to kiss and make up instead," Lizzie predicted, now sounding depressed instead of angry, like the fight had gone out of her. That worried Vincent more than when she was cussing and shouting at imaginary people.

On screen, the couple kissed, but didn't get back together.

Lizzie frowned in surprise.

"Huh," she said. "That's different."

Ayers looked hopeful that the episode would end soon.

As soon as the credits rolled, Lizzie popped out of her seat and stalked off.

"I think maybe I'll have to pre-screen these from now on," Vincent told Ayers.

The big man nodded, frowning.

"It'll pass," Vincent assured him. "She always bounces back."

True to form, Lizzie was already calmer when they found her in the garden with Harry, Veronica and the baby skunks romping around her where she sat on the grass.

Veronica abandoned Harry and Lizzie immediately upon seeing Ayers, and loped over to him as fast as her little body could go. Her six kits – Victor, Vanessa, Vera, Vito, Vladimir, and Vaughn – sprinted behind her on their tiny legs.

All seven of the spotted skunks were hopping around his feet, begging to be picked up, but Ayers paid them no attention. He frowned at Lizzie. It wasn't an angry frown, Vincent noted. It was something else.

"Harry," Vincent said, "go inside and keep Charlie company, would you?"

"But –"

"Now, please, son."

"Yes, Grandpa. Bye, Mr. Ayers!"

The mercenary did not wave back. Harry retreated into the house with confusion on his small face.

Veronica pawed at Ayers's leg and the babies made excited laps around his feet. He put on his gauntlets, ignoring the precious creatures.

Lizzie and Vincent shared concerned glances.

She stood and approached him cautiously. "Are you okay?"

He frowned even more, looking … what was that expression? Regret? Disapproval? It was hard to tell.

Vincent's bad feeling got worse.

Lizzie must have felt it too. She swallowed hard and said, "I'm sorry about my, uh, outburst in there. I get a little too emotionally invested sometimes."

Her voice faded away as Ayers reached into one of his belt pouches and withdrew an object. He held it out to her. The overhead floodlights glinted off Daisy's keychain.

'Oh, shit,' Vincent thought. Ayers only left the keychain with Lizzie when he was going on an exceptionally dangerous mission.

"You're leaving?" she asked, almost a whisper.

Yes.

"Where?"

"Rouge."

"Baton Rouge?"

Yes.

She bit her lip. "How long?"

He shrugged. He probably didn't know how long it would take.

Or he didn't want to promise anything.

"Why do people frickin' keep going back?" she snapped suddenly. "Don't they realize every lowland city is a death trap?"

"Daisy," he said.

She looked down.

'Of course,' Vincent realized. The evacuees would eventually go back to look for their beloved pets, despite the minuscule chances of finding them alive. Lizzie would go for Charlie. Ayers would go for Daisy. Even those people without pets would finally give in to the lure of medicine, tools, photographs, family heirlooms, children's favorite toys … and home. Of course Delta-22's strike units would be called upon when a situation went critical.

But the timing was suspicious.

From her face, Vincent could see Lizzie suspected that as well. Still, she held out her hand to accept the good luck charm. Ayers tipped the rabbit's foot into her palm and closed her fingers around it.

There was a pause where one of them should have said or done something additional, but they only stared at each other. The look in Lizzie's beautiful brown eyes would have been enough to melt any man's resolve. Any man except Ayers, it seemed.

Lizzie opened her mouth to speak, shut it again, then turned and went in the house, walking slowly enough for someone to stop her if they wished. She did not slam the door behind her.

Dejected by Ayers's disinterest in them, the baby skunks waddled over to Vincent for comfort. He scooped all six of them into his arms.

Veronica was still standing on her hind legs with her forepaws on Ayers's shin, looking up at him. The mercenary finally seemed to notice her. She kneaded his boot with her tiny feet, excited to have his attention.

Ayers picked Veronica up, looked at her for a moment, and then crossed the grass to Vincent and deposited the dainty animal onto his shoulder. Veronica seemed to droop in disappointment.

Vincent bit back every question as it came to his lips:

'Is this an actual mission, or have you decided she's too much work?'

'Right before her birthday? Really?'

'Are you ever coming back?'

'Why are you doing this?'

'Say something, goddammit. Explain.'

They stared at each other in silence. Ayers's face might as well have been carved from granite.

At last Vincent said stiffly, "Get out of my house."

Ayers picked up his helmet and left.