Angel returned to Oz's house in the morning hours before sunrise, but Oz was still up. He nodded a welcome from the stool where he sat in the small living room, strumming an unplugged guitar. Angel nodded back, took a few aimless steps, and opened his mouth to speak, but before the words were out, there was a knock at the door.

Oz hopped up and set down the guitar carefully before going to answer it, and Angel, lurking behind him, heard Howell's voice, frank and urgent: "I need to use your cage."

Between the two of them, Oz and Angel coaxed the pilot into sitting with them and discussing where this new sense of alarm had come from. Angel hadn't even yet had a chance to tell Oz about the new prevailing theory on whom was hosting the Wolf, and he wasn't sure he wanted to bring it up around Howell, but the man beat him to it: "There's a woman. Young, pretty. Turns into a wolf, not a wolf, it looks like one but it walks on two legs, and she rips them up with her teeth. I don't know why I know. She was there the last time, and she'll be at the next one. Follow her, see for yourself. She's been there all along. I wasn't. I don't know how I know." He took a deep breath, waved away the beer that Oz offered him, accepted a glass of water from Angel instead. "That was the important part," he added.

"What else do you know?" asked Angel.

"I know I'm not finished. I brought you here for her, and she'll take you out, you and Buffy, when she's ready. But I'm not done. There has to be more, more blood, more chaos. As long as I'm free I'll be hunting."

Oz leaned his elbows on his knees, looking grim. "That's why you want the cage?"

"Yeah."

"How do we know you're not saying this to throw us off your scent?" Angel inquired. He felt terrible for the man, but they couldn't afford to get sentimental now.

"Jesus, I don't know. Just follow her. I know exactly where the next death will be, and when. I can take you there."

Oz made a placating gesture. "So do we. It's alright, Howell. I'll go get the cage set up now."

Temporarily left alone with Howell, Angel turned the interrogation to a more personal note. "Do you have any idea why the Wolf wanted me and Buffy to be here? Does it just make it easier for her to kill us?"

The man looked pensive, taking a few moments to consider before answering. "I don't think you can trust me to answer that," he said finally. "If she doesn't want you to know something, I'll lie to cover it up. That's why I had to tell you the important part all at once, before I could think about it too much."

"Okay," said Angel. "Thanks." He stopped himself short of asking another question. What good would it do? Anyway, if Buffy was directly in danger from the Wolf, protecting her was his own duty, not Howell's.

Oz returned and showed Howell downstairs, explaining that a cage was a cage but he had dragged in all the furniture that would fit through the door, plus a broomstick to bang on the ceiling if for any reason he couldn't reach Oz using his cell phone.

"This is temporary," said Oz when he returned alone. "This has definitely got to be temporary."

"Mm," Angel agreed. They sat back down in the living room, and Angel summarized what he and Buffy had learned from their evening with Nina and Mr. E. Oz listened attentively, with a deepening frown on his normally expressionless face.

"So what do you think?" Angel concluded. "Have you noticed Nina acting strange at all lately?"

Oz answered with a reluctant nod. "I didn't think it was anything supernatural at the time, but now it all makes sense."

"They invited us to the Independence Day cookout, so we'll be able to see if there's anything new going on with her transformation. Other than that, I guess the plan is just to show up at the next scheduled crime scene, like Howell said." He supposed the plan should include something about how to deal with Nina if she was there, but he wasn't ready for that. "And Oz, I'm going to have to ask you to keep this a secret for now. At least from Nina and Eric."

"No."

The word was so unexpected yet so casually spoken that it took Angel a moment to comprehend it. "What?"

"I said no. Hey man, I get that cloak and dagger is your M.O., but they're my friends. They're my pack leaders. Take a couple days to figure out how to break the news, but make sure it gets broken, or I'll do it."

Angel met his eyes across the room, and neither gaze wavered as the seconds ticked by. "I'm not going to hurt Nina," he said.

"Good," Oz replied. He stood up. "There's clean towels in your room. Sleep tight."

Buffy had settled into Faith's study and found it more comfortable than she had expected, even though the house only had one bathroom, and Spike, as Faith put it, "takes showers so long he's gonna drain Lake Erie one day." There was a futon, a computer, and a window, and since she was a guest, nobody got into her space or put too many demands on her time. Her only fear was that she would overhear Spike and Faith having sex one night. If that happened, her best hope was probably to quietly sneak outside and run.

She still wished that she could have shared a bed with Angel, but he wasn't far. Today, she had come to Oz's house around noon and crept into the guest room, where Angel greeted her with a sleepy smile. She took a moment to rest her head on his bare chest and share a few words before leaving him with a kiss and a command to get more sleep.

Oz was waiting for her in the kitchen. He led the way out to his car, and Buffy noticed with a pang that his relative silence had a different vibe than usual. She tried to start a conversation about the vehicle having a lot of character - it really did - but his response was little more than a grunt.

She tried again as he took them through parts of Cleveland that would never get a mention in a tourism book. "Why do they want us to meet them there? And in the daytime? Angel would have liked to come too..."

"So would Howell. Trying to avoid that." He kept his eyes on the road, his tone flat. "And tonight's a lunar no-go for me and them. I would have saved it a few days but Nina called me at six this morning. Didn't want to wait."

Buffy's face flushed a little as she tried to imagine how that conversation had gone. She thought she and Angel had been subtle enough about their suspicions while they were at Nina and Eric's house, but it wasn't likely that she was being summoned to talk about something unrelated. From what Angel had told her, Oz probably felt like he was in the middle and trying to choose a side, which wasn't at all what Buffy wanted.

"You know she tried to frame your cousin, right?" she blurted out suddenly. "Jordan Godfrey. He's the one who turned you into a werewolf, isn't he?"

Oz flinched, but his voice was accusatory. "What do you mean?"

"We asked if they had doubts about anyone in the pack and she made it sound like he was dangerous. You told us before he's a good kid. I believed you. So what's her deal?"

"She's infected," he said curtly. "We have to help her. Isn't that what this is all about?"

Buffy couldn't think of a response. Oz pulled the car into the almost empty parking lot of Satellite 3, which looked considerably different without its festive lights and animated crowd. It was hard to tell if the place was even open until they got to the door and she saw the hours posted. They were, however, the only ones there aside from staff. Buffy was about to say as much, but Oz kept walking, beckoning her to follow, and led her up a stairwell and through a door she hadn't noticed the first time she had been here.

The smaller space they entered upstairs appeared to be another club, entirely distinct from the main floor, but Buffy couldn't spare a second to observe it when she saw that Nina was already there waiting for them, and that she was accompanied by someone completely unexpected.

Oz seemed as surprised as she was, but he recovered first and said, "Mr. Wolfe. Hi."

Buffy greeted them with wary courtesy. Damien Wolfe was sitting in one of the leather armchairs, dressed in what looked like another designer suit jacket, and he appeared just as irate and intimidating as he had the night he had kicked them out of Satellite 3. Nina was standing, closer to the entrance than he was, with her arms crossed and a mean-spirited smirk on her face. There was no bartender or anyone else in the room. Buffy swallowed. "Where's Eric?"

"Mr. E," said Nina, emphasizing the stage name, "was not invited."

"Okay," said Oz. "Seems like there's a few things we'll have to clear up."

Nobody else moved toward the seating. "Completely agreed," said Nina smoothly. "Oz, Buffy, I think you guys have gotten the wrong idea from somewhere. I've had to keep some secrets, yeah. Most people wouldn't be able to understand if I explained it right now. And I think we can all relate to that," she added, raising her eyebrows at each of them in turn.

"Damn straight," Buffy responded before anyone else could. "Look, I'm coming clean with our secret right now: we came to Cleveland because we heard about people being infected by an evil spirit. It's happened to you, Nina. Whatever you've been hiding - you don't need to tell us, just please consider it wasn't your own idea. And it's not your fault."

"My fault?" Nina laughed. "Of course not. No more than it's yours that you're the Slayer. Or Angel's that he has a soul. It's destiny. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I know it's right."

Oz cleared his throat. "Then why not tell Eric?"

"And why is he here instead?" Buffy added, flicking a hand in Wolfe's direction.

Wolfe spoke at last, and his voice was tinged with a growling quality that sounded permanent. "You have a man held captive in your home. John Howell. I want him."

"I'm not holding anyone captive," said Oz.

Nina scoffed. "Sure, honey. Keep him, if you care that much. And hey," she went on, "tell my boyfriend anything you want. What's he going to do? Rally the troops and attack me?"

She was right, Buffy realized suddenly. Oz's allegiance to his pack might be in the process of changing this very minute, but Mr. E would never take their side against Nina based solely on something he hadn't seen with his own eyes. The Wolf's strategy went beyond his ritual and invasion of human bodies. "Nina," Buffy urged softly, "you need help."

"I'll get it," Nina replied with iron certainty. "Believe me."

Wolfe had finally stood up; now he turned and walked behind the little stage over the bar, and Nina followed. She was wearing a halter top, and the lunar cycle tattoo on her back stood out like a warning.

As they both exited the room through a plain black door that clicked shut behind them, Buffy heard Oz mutter a curse through the hand he had at his face, stroking his stubble.

"What?" she asked.

He was staring at the door as if he could see through it. "Satellite 1," he said. "Nobody ever goes in there. All those times they said the boss was having a meeting...it must have been with her. Wolfe and Nina."

Buffy considered that. "I have to talk to Angel."

"Let's go."

Angel had called hours before he should be awake, and Faith didn't waste time asking about why he needed her. She entered Oz's house to find Angel alone and bleeding, and looking more abashed about it than scared or angry. "The hell is this?" she asked.

He was rummaging through a first aid kit, and she took it from him and found the rest of what she needed in the kitchen and bathroom. As she cleaned his wounds - mostly shallow ones, thankfully, though he was decorated with a few ugly bruises too - he explained that he'd been sleeping when the intruders came in, and that they had used their numbers, and the sunlight, to their advantage. "Plus I didn't want to hurt them," he added, which made more sense when he told her who they were.

As Faith dabbed at a cut in his chest, he winced, and she looked up to roll her eyes at him. "Come on, it doesn't sting that bad."

"It's not that. I'm just not ready to explain this to Buffy, and she's at the door." He pulled on a shirt, then touched his face. "Is this still visible?"

"Your lip is split wide open, dumbass." Faith closed up the kit and went out to meet Buffy and Oz, and Angel, apparently resigned to his fate, followed.

"Angel, we've got a situation with Nina, we need to - oh hi Faith, what are you doing here?" Buffy didn't give her time to reply; she had just seen Angel, and her reaction was probably just what he had feared. "Oh my God, what have you been doing? We've only been gone for like an hour!" She rushed over and put her fingers lightly to his cheek, and he smiled and pressed her hand there with his own.

"He can't hog all the blame," said Faith wearily, washing her hands in the kitchen sink. "Bunch of pups busted in, went for Howell."

"Howell?" asked Oz. "Is he okay?"

Angel took up the explanation himself. "He's not hurt but he's not here. I think they thought they were doing a jailbreak. Didn't give him a chance to say his piece, and I guess he just got swept up in it and left with them." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Oz. I would have put up a better defense of your home, but I didn't think you would want me using force against your pack."

Oz nodded pensively and turned back to the door, but only to inspect the knob. "They didn't break in. They had a key. Means Jordan was with them."

Jordan was Oz's cousin, though Faith knew Angel wouldn't have recognized him by sight or smell. She grimaced, and saw her own sympathy mirrored on Buffy's and Angel's faces. Oz had dealt with enough already without his own family turning on him. "The hysteria in town over werewolves," Angel suggested. "It must be hard on the young ones."

"How would they even know about Howell, though?" Faith asked. "Who do they think he is?"

Buffy was leaning back against Angel, but now she stiffened with a sudden thought. "They don't know," she said. "Someone sent them. Someone who's gathering support from the Cleveland werewolves."

In a startling display of anger, Oz's fist pounded into the door. Over the next ten minutes, he and Buffy shared a disturbing story of their meeting with Nina, one which all but confirmed that she was the Wolf. Faith could barely process the idea. Since she had moved to Cleveland, Nina had become one of her best friends. They hadn't seen each other as much now that they were both involved in complicated romantic relationships, but Faith felt that if something this horribly, horribly wrong had been happening, she should have known.

"What now?" she asked as they all sat down together and Buffy fussed over Angel's shrinking injuries.

Buffy was first to answer, her voice hard. "We grill."

"Grill whom?" Angel replied around the icepack that she had insisted he hold to his lip.

"Burgers," she said. "Hotdogs. We have to go to Nina's cookout tomorrow, like we planned. It's the only way to see if she's up to anything while she's transformed. Faith, have they invited you?"

Faith gave a bitter laugh that wasn't altogether voluntary. "I'm bringing a fruit salad."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Oh no, I didn't think of that." She looked at Angel. "Should we bring something too?"

"We can pick up some bottled drinks," he assured her, then resumed a business tone. "You two should go together. Spike and I will come after dark and take a walk around the enclosures to check things out from the ground. Act normal, but keep your eyes open. We need to find out who would stay loyal to Nina if it came to that."

"You mean like her boyfriend?" said Oz. His voice betrayed no emotion, but Faith sensed sarcasm. Then he added something that got everyone's attention: "Or like me?"

Angel gave him a long look, kneading the icepack in his hands. "I know this is personal for you," he said. "It is for me too. We have to figure out how to keep everyone out of danger, but we have to do it without fooling ourselves about what the infected people have become."

Oz lowered his gaze. "I get that. Not everyone will." He stood up. "I'll talk to E."

"I'll do some research on Satellite 3," said Buffy. "Maybe I can find some stats on Damien Wolfe, or there's something special about the building itself."

"I'll help," said Angel, and the two of them smiled at each other.

Faith was reminded of the Scooby Gang, divvying up jobs at the end of a meeting. It wasn't nostalgic; mostly she had to wonder if they had always been as flippant about mortal danger as they were now, as they had been during the brief period that she was one of them. She got to her feet. "I'll go buy fruit."

The Fourth of July was hot, starting early in the day. Oz was the first to arrive at Eric and Nina's house, thinking to help them prepare for the party, but he found it more difficult than anticipated. So, it seemed, did Eric. As soon as either of them had started on a task, Nina would take a look and stop them with some kind of criticism: "That's not how they should be chopped" or "I thought I told you I'd do that myself" or "It's probably more helpful if you just stay out of the way." Each time, she would laugh as if it were a joke, but she still didn't allow them to lend much of a hand.

When Oz had moved to Cleveland, the first people he had contacted were family: his aunt and uncle and two cousins, all of them werewolves. Aunt Maureen had personally introduced him to a tattoo artist they knew who was active in the local pack, not realizing at the time that the artist's girlfriend had dated Angel and was friends with Faith. As Oz discovered the connections, Mr. E and Nina built on them, and before a year had passed they were appointed Cleveland's alphas. If not for them, Oz knew, he probably would have moved on at some point, instead of coming to think of this place as home.

For everyone's sake, he was worried about what was happening, but it especially hurt to witness the strain on Eric and Nina's relationship. Eric didn't raise an argument at any point, but the rapport they'd had as a couple was gone, and he kept casting embarrassed smiles toward Oz.

Before long, Oz and Eric were in an implied exile on the back porch, eating chips and waiting for guests to arrive. It was hard to know for sure if Nina was listening, so Oz was trying to avoid bringing up anything related to the Wolf, but Eric seemed to think that she wasn't. "I told Buffy and Angel about how Nina hasn't seemed like herself lately," he confessed. "Now I can't stop wondering if it's just me."

Oz would have dodged the topic, but it didn't seem right to let Eric go on like this, sounding so crestfallen. "It's not just you."

"Everyone else's relationships look so solid, in comparison. Like they know exactly who they are and where they're going. Spike and Angel," he said, as if holding up an example.

"They're not actually together…"

Eric laughed. "No, I was going to say, they're the only two vampires with souls, right?" At Oz's nod, he continued, "And they're both dating vampire Slayers. That's whacked. That's the kind of couple shouldn't last five seconds, and there's two of them coming tonight. Compared to that…" He shook his head. "Werewolf and a werewolf ought to be a piece of cake."

"Nobody's really got it together," said Oz. "Believe me."

Eric raised an eyebrow and crunched another potato chip. "So how about you? There's a couple girls in the pack asking me to find out why you never date. Cute ones."

Oz leaned back in his deck chair, eyes pointing at the blue sky. "I date."

"Oh yeah? Who and when?"

"I...used to date," he amended. "I've been talking to my ex lately. Kinda puts me off the scene." Willow looked more exhausted and careworn every time she sent an astral projection to Cleveland. If they were dating, maybe he could tell her to stop, but he still wondered if she would listen.

Nina's voice became audible inside, along with that of a new arrival and the sound of doors opening and dishes being set down. Oz turned and stood as Aunt Maureen came gliding through the open glass doors to the porch. He accepted her hug as Uncle Ken emerged, and then, lingering behind them a little, ten-year-old Kristina. "Where's Jordan?" Oz asked.

Maureen sighed dramatically. "He'll be coming with his friends. I suppose we're not cool enough for him anymore."

"I hope he's bringing his bass," said Eric. "Oz tells me he's not half bad. I thought we could have a jam session."

"Yep," Uncle Ken affirmed, but the word was clipped and flat, as if the subject troubled him. Oz had a feeling of foreboding which had been gradually increasing since he arrived. He hadn't planned to confront Jordan about attacking Angel, but he at least wanted to talk to him face to face to see if anything felt wrong. If his own parents had some kind of concern about him, the question was probably already answered.

Buffy and Faith were the next to show up, Buffy carrying enough wine coolers to prove she had Slayer strength, Faith with a large bowl of haphazardly chopped fruit. Both seemed slightly uncertain about their offerings, but Eric welcomed them warmly and introduced them to the Godfreys, and Oz could sense his relief at finally having a chance to be the host at his own party.

Oz tried to relax, too. As more guests arrived, he went for his guitar, but Buffy followed him to his car and started talking business as soon as they were out of earshot for those in the house. "Check this out," she said, laying out a few pieces of paper on the hood of the car. "Floor plans for Satellite 3."

Interested in spite of his reservations, Oz leaned over and inspected them with her. "Are you sure this is accurate? I can't tell what this big space is supposed to be."

"We don't know either," she said. "From the outside, it looks like it's part of the connected building on Main Street. But look at this." She took a pen from her purse and circled the door that was shown in one of the rooms, which had been marked 'S2'. "This is the door you pointed out in Satellite 2, right? And it lines up to the big empty mysterious space. I know this isn't much to go on, but…"

"It's plenty." Without saying another word, Oz took the pen from her and drew a rough Fibonacci spiral onto the page. The line went through the main part of the club, then Satellite 2, crossing the doorway she had marked, and the remainder of the spiral curled up within the big room. Oz dropped the pen when he finished, feeling cornered within the graphical walls, and it rolled down the hood and fell to the pavement without either of them attempting to stop it.

Buffy smoothed out one of the other printouts, this one showing Satellite 3's location in the downtown neighborhood. The spiral had already been drawn on this one, and it was easy to see how the center would look just like Oz's drawing if magnified. "Wow." Buffy's voice was hushed. "That big space isn't a warehouse, is it?"

"Why not?" Oz replied. "Makes about as much sense as a high school library."

She winced. "Good point. I better go show Faith."

"Maybe that can wait. There's already a lot of suspicion in the air." Oz moved around the car and got the guitar case out of the trunk. Nearer to the house, there were a few cars more than there had been when they'd gone outside, but he couldn't tell if any of them might have carried Jordan here.

Buffy was looking at him with a quizzical expression. "Don't you want to work on this while we can? I know you're booked up after sunset, and we've got another murder on the schedule coming up soon…"

"This isn't the place." He shut the trunk and started back toward the house with the guitar, and after a second he heard Buffy following.

The party was in full swing when they returned to the house, centered mostly on the back porch and the chairs that had been set out in the yard. Oz instinctively looked for Nina first, and found her pouring drinks while talking to Faith. He noticed that some of the others on the porch were looking askance at the two Slayers, the only ones there who weren't lycanthropes. He mentally berated himself; someone should have been making introductions and assuring the pack that it was safe to talk freely around Faith and Buffy. Of course, that someone probably should have been Nina.

Jordan was down on the grass, his bass guitar slung over his back, setting up a place to sit with another young musician and Eric. A weight lifted from Oz's mind, and he headed that way to meet them, not stopping to find out if Buffy was about to show Faith the Satellite 3 floor plan.

When he saw him, Jordan's neck turned red, and he turned away, tugging bashfully at his forelock. "Uhh. Hey." Eric immediately petitioned the other boy for help with something else, effectively granting some privacy to the impending conversation.

"Hey," Oz replied, placing his guitar on one of the chairs and seating himself in another.

"'M sorry 'bout yesterday," Jordan mumbled in a rush. Reluctantly, he put down his own instrument and sat down.

Oz nodded. "Angel's alright."

"Good," said Jordan, and he sounded like he meant it.

"Where's Howell? Didn't want to come?"

Jordan shrugged uncomfortably. "He got mad when he found out you didn't send us. Kinda stormed off. Was acting kinda weird actually."

That wasn't good. Oz hadn't really thought that Howell needed to be locked up in the first place, but that had come with the assumption that someone would at least know where he was. There was a fair chance that Howell would head right back to Oz's house, but nobody was going to be there all night. "Was this whole thing Nina's idea?" he asked, taking care to keep his tone neutral.

"Yeah." Jordan glanced toward the house, his brow furrowed. "Is something going on with her? I mean, we figured if she was telling us something it was legit. She's an alpha," he added, with a kind of reverence unique to born werewolves.

"I don't know," said Oz. "I'm trying to find out. You guys want to get started without me?" He gestured at the guitars.

Jordan nodded and pulled his bass into his lap. "Uh. Can you not tell my folks about what happened?"

Oz clasped his hand firmly and looked him in the eye, and Jordan's posture relaxed. The other musicians returned to the circle of chairs, and partygoers gathered to listen to them as Oz went to find Buffy and Faith.

Fortunately, they were together, and Nina was no longer with them. Both were inside near the food table, arguing about something that didn't seem to have anything to do with the Wolf. "It's good!" Buffy insisted after swallowing, with apparent difficulty, a spoonful of something from the bowl she was holding. "Look, I'm eating a whole bowl of it! All I'm saying is you should peel the kiwis first!"

"Whatever," Faith huffed. "I'm not a fruit ninja, okay?"

Oz decided to change the subject for them before anyone made him choose a side. "Howell's missing. Can you call Angel, see if he showed up there?"

Buffy put her bowl down with a clatter and whipped out her cell phone. She turned away from them as she dialed, and Faith said to Oz, "You want me to go out looking for him?"

He shook his head. "How? You haven't met the guy."

"Buffy can, then."

"She doesn't know her way around town," Oz objected, increasingly frustrated.

"Okay, then we wait for dark and send Spike and Angel," Faith bargained, at the same time that Buffy turned back around, putting her phone back into her pocket and shaking her head.

She gave them each a wary glance. "We're sending the boys where? I missed something."

"No," said Oz. "It can't wait that long. I'll go myself. If I don't find him by sunset, I'll call you before I lock up to change."

Faith looked uncertain, but Buffy responded with surprising vehemence. "You're just going to split in the middle of this shebang after telling me you don't want to work the mission here? You're our strongest link to the pack, and," her voice lowered to a hiss, "Nina's watching! She's going to notice!"

He didn't have to do anything conspicuous to know she was right. "Well, what do you want to do?" he asked.

Buffy hesitated for a moment, then said, "I'll call Willow. She can-"

"No." Oz wondered offhandedly if he should start counting how many times he'd had to say that since Buffy and Angel showed up. "Did you not twig how worn out she is? If you keep piling on these astral stints she's going to tear herself apart trying not to go dark on us again. Let her be."

He could sense the sudden change in Buffy's mood, though he had long since stopped differentiating between the scents, visual cues, and intuition he used in reading people. She seemed to draw back as if ready to pounce, then sucked in a breath and began, "How dare you..."

"Hey," Faith cut in sharply. "Guys, for real? The king of non-reaction and the Friendship-Is-Power spokeswoman are gonna make me step up as the peacemaker?"

Oz raised an eyebrow at her, unfazed, but Buffy looked abashed. "It's just...I'm used to, you know, having a system. In LA, the Slayers all work together. We give them their assignments, but if things get rough, everyone pitches in even if it costs them a little extra. And Willow's part of that team."

"And we're not?" said Faith. Her voice was dry, but she didn't seem as interested in mediating as she had a moment ago.

"There's no team," Oz informed both of them, "so no one has to be."

Buffy busied herself pouring from a bottle of diet soda. "Faith, you and I should both go. You drive, I recognize, nobody marks us absent."

"Go where?"

The girls froze as they looked up. Oz didn't; he had noticed Nina's approach in advance, although not soon enough to warn the others. He could tell that Buffy was about to stammer out an implausible lie, so he cut her off and answered Nina himself: "Angel's staying at my place. Stuck there right now, obviously. All the blood he brought along got spoiled and Faith may have to take Buffy to get more. Butcher's gonna be closed tomorrow."

There was a pause, in which Buffy and Faith did their best to support the story by shrugging and nodding. Oz didn't think that Nina seemed skeptical, but she didn't look surprised, either. "Okay," she sighed. "I mean, I guess you aren't having fun anyway."

"What do you mean?" Buffy replied, too quickly. "Fun? We're having that. This is fun."

Nina's eyes rolled upward. "Well, you've spent the whole time since you got here just talking to each other indoors. And no offense or anything, but you know this is the first time any non-werewolves have been invited to this party? I told them all you were worth making an exception. Some of them were pretty interested in meeting you. But, you know, whatever."

Faith looked aghast. "Dude, Nina. We just had to square this one thing, totally did not mean to go antisocial on you."

"I was just getting a soda," said Buffy, holding up her plastic cup of evidence. "Got distracted for a moment, that's all."

Oz looked at the three of them, caught Nina's eye, and nodded. "I'll go run that errand for Angel. Back before the moon."

Angel could hear wolves as he drove up the hill, howling from the approximate locations that Mr. E had pointed out as the enclosures they used. He still had the feeling that something was wrong - not in a way that made him want to panic or run to the rescue, just a weight in his chest that served as an extra motivation to return to Buffy.

He couldn't see her from the yard, but he easily found the ladder to the roof, and could smell her by the time he had silently ascended. He called her name in a low voice, just once, and her face appeared from around the corner of the second-story wall she had been leaning against. Angel made his way across the sloping part of the roof to settle down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and scanning the neighborhood around the house.

"Can you see them?" she asked, the first words she had spoken.

The two closest werewolves, Nina and Mr. E, weren't immediately visible. Angel could hear them, but the only way he knew that it was them and not two others was because the growls were coming from within the boundaries of their personal fenced yard. He thought that he could learn to recognize the individual voices of wolves, with practice, but he hadn't spent too many full moons around any of them, even Nina.

To answer Buffy, he pointed in their direction, and she nodded. Then he pointed outward and straight ahead, to another, more distant enclosure. There were at least ten wolves there, but even with his night vision he could only see them as darting shadows, so he doubted she could see anything at all. There was one more area where Mr. E had told them to look, down the hill on the west side, and he found three more wolves there and pointed again. "Looks like this is all in order," he concluded.

"A place for everyone and everyone in their place," she agreed. She rubbed her arms absently, and Angel took his coat off to drape over her. He still thought there was something troubling her, but he wasn't sure how to ask about it.

She didn't make him wonder for long. "I got into a spat with Oz."

"Huh." Sympathetic but genuinely curious, he asked, "How is that even possible?"

Buffy chuckled sadly. "He really belongs to this place now. Like Nina and Mr. E, at least until the Wolf business. And it's not just the pack bond thing. Faith and Spike have it too. I've never felt so...incidental."

"It was your dream that brought us here," he reminded her.

"I know. I still think we have a job to do. But I keep trying to do it my way, and my way kind of hinges on a small group of talented misfits functioning together like a well-oiled machine."

"Well, we've got the misfits..."

"And the talent. Just not the oil." Buffy sighed and pulled his coat tighter around herself. "How's Spike?"

Angel shrugged. "Fine. I dropped him off with Faith so they can keep looking for Howell. How was the party?"

She hesitated, but then responded, "Good burgers."

"Get anywhere with Nina?"

"Um...good burgers."

He had hoped for some new insight on the Wolf, but Buffy hadn't planned anything more than reconnaissance at the party anyway. She showed him the spiral that Oz had drawn on the Satellite 3 floor plan, and they traded a few theories before being interrupted by a hiss and bang coming from the sky. "You know, I'd forgotten all about the fireworks," Buffy murmured, and that was the last thing that either of them said for some time.

The view from the rooftop was perfect; distant but without obstruction or any crowd save for the wolfpack. Angel had seen firework displays, plenty of them, but he had never watched them with Buffy, and it occurred to him suddenly that it was okay to enjoy this moment. He kissed her head as a spray of golden sparks exploded overhead, and she snuggled close and made a soft sound of delight when three more rockets blossomed, each in a different color. Between every thunderous crash, they could hear the wolves singing, conveying a kind of childlike excitement to the lightshow.

Before long, Angel began turning his attention to them instead of the sky. Nina and Eric had come out from their cover, and they were close enough to see by the moon's illumination even when the frequency of the fireworks slackened off. He could easily tell which one was which - Eric's species, which he claimed to share with the majority of the pack, was colloquially known as "Chippewa Grey", and there were a few visible differences between him and Nina's Lycanthropus Exterus. He had thicker fur, a shorter snout, and broad humanoid shoulders. Although they were about the same size, Nina walked on her hind paws exclusively, while Eric would periodically drop down to all fours to rest or run in a manner that reminded Angel vaguely of a great ape.

More intriguing than their respective appearances was their behavior. Angel had the impression that Eric was trying to coax his mate into frolicking with him, but whenever he came too close, she would snap at him and snarl. They never broke into a real fight, but it was hard not to sympathize with Eric as his flirtations were rejected again and again. Angel remembered leaving Nina in Cleveland, her confident smile as she told him that she was where she was meant to be. He imagined the freedom she must have felt when she was first given a place to run with other lycanthropes during the full moon. He wondered if Eric would remember any part of this when he woke up human.

"The aggressive one is Nina, isn't it?" said Buffy as the last few fireworks died, leaving only smoke and echoes behind.

"Yeah," Angel answered, glad that he wouldn't have to explain it to her. "And I don't think she's acting like herself now, either."

Buffy subvocalized her agreement, then said, "It doesn't look like she's trying to escape, though." She was right - both wolves had been ignoring the visitors on their rooftop, as well as the fireworks and everything else outside their pen.

"I don't think she'd have to. If it's true she's been present at the deaths so far, she must have gotten there as a human first. And I'd bet the Wolf infection allows her to transform at will, if she hadn't mastered it on her own already."

"I wonder what's going on in her head." Buffy's voice was low and pensive, her two hands holding one of his like a gift. "Ever since Giles told us about the toxoplasma, I can't stop picturing it. Imagine some garden-variety rat, no clue that it's even sick, suddenly deciding cats are the in crowd...just sidling up to them all 'Hey, I've been wrong about you feline types.' And then getting disemboweled, all because some microscopic dictator in its blood had its own plan."

Angel answered in the same quiet tone. "Imagine if the virus really could make its own plans. Imagine if the cats were in on it."

"And the victim," Buffy finished, "was too intelligent to go along with these impulses unless she made up reasons to convince herself it was what she wanted."

There was a long silence, made eerie by the wolves' apparent participation in it. The sky had grown blacker, the moon brighter, and Eric had settled down with a long bone, leaving Nina to pace the length of the enclosure by herself. Angel fixed his eyes forward and spoke in an unwavering voice: "I'm not going to kill her."

"Angel?" Buffy sounded concerned. "I didn't say…"

"You didn't have to. Nobody had to. We all knew what this was going to lead us into. Willow said there's no cure. Giles said it would be a mercy to release the Wolf's host. Now we know it's Nina, and nobody can come out and admit that the rules haven't changed just because she's a friend." He felt Buffy flinch, and hung his head. "I'm sorry. I probably sound angry...I'm not. Not at you, anyway. I just know there's going to be someone thinking this is my job, since nobody else wants to do it. And I won't. I can't."

Her answer came reluctantly, though her hands didn't move from his. "It's funny. I...I haven't been thinking that at all. For me it's just been, 'How are we going to get this done without taking an innocent life?' The part of my brain that knows we can't, it's like it's password protected. But I think you just logged in."

Hopeless as he was, he couldn't help appreciating that Buffy had known that a computer analogy would no longer throw him off. "The part that really scares me," he confided, "is that I still kind of believe that it is my job. If this is something that has to happen, the consequences for it ought to go to the one who's already doomed anyway, right?"

"No!" Without warning, she swung a leg over his, straddling him so that they were eye to eye, and held him by the shoulders. "Angel, you're not doomed. You're a warrior, like me. You can't come this far just to throw it away." She slumped down a bit, changing her grip to an embrace. "A couple days from now, we'll save a life. Maybe we'll learn something that helps. Maybe there really is a way out of this, and we just haven't seen it yet. But we're in it together, remember? I'm not going to just throw you to the wo- ugh. I swear that was not on purpose."

Angel slipped his arms around the small of her back, then cradled her head so that he could support her even as she leaned in the direction of the roof's decline. He kissed her hard and passionately, and after a single second of surprise, she returned it, her tongue in his mouth and her warm fingers on his face and neck.

It wasn't the first time they had kissed since coming back together, but it felt new, and a little frightening. Angel knew that they were in no danger of losing their senses and making love on his ex-girlfriend's roof in full view of a pair of werewolves, but he couldn't know for sure if this was the first step toward a mutual desire that they could only contain for so long. For now, all he could do was hope, and stand firm, and kiss.

"Hey," whispered Buffy, long minutes later. "Happy Independence Day."

Faith gave another glance to the print-out map she had been carrying in her pocket, then folded it back up and checked the time. The Wolf's next killing was scheduled for 7:15am, so she and Buffy had come early to scope out the location where Willow had advised it would happen. Fortunately, there was no private residence within a thirty-foot radius, which was supposed to be the maximum distance that would work for the ritual. The spot was outdoors, in a patio adjacent to a commercial plaza. Faith had just done a headcount in the one restaurant which had unlocked its doors, and Buffy had disappeared into an indoor shopping center with the same purpose.

Something was going on with Buffy, Faith thought. Angel too, although she hadn't seen him since the night before last, and Spike's perspective on it hadn't been much help. They were probably just stressed out by the mission, but they were supposed to be professionals.

Faith turned to circumnavigate the zone again, and was stopped short by the appearance of a familiar face she hadn't been expecting here. "Oz," she greeted him. "Hey. Are you here for...?" There was another man with him, a stranger, and she wasn't sure about how freely she should speak.

"Yeah," said Oz, then indicated his companion. "This is John Howell. He knew this was the spot, so we decided to check it out with you."

"Oh!" Everything clicked into place. "You found him."

It was Howell who answered. "I found him. Got away from the brainsucker influence before any real damage was done. You're the Slayer?"

"I'm a Slayer. What do you mean 'real damage'?" Faith heard a door close, and looked over her shoulder to see Buffy approaching with a wave and a nod.

"Something's telling me to fly away," Howell said gravely. "Something else is telling me to wreak havoc, all glory to the Wolf. Another something else just wants to help you guys as much as I can, to save Cleveland. Since the pull is pretty much equal in every direction, I figure I get to choose."

Buffy had reached them just in time to respond to Howell's self-analysis. "Smart move. I'm glad to see you're okay."

"So the gang's all here," said Faith. "Except for the ones who can't do the sunshine thing. And the ones who, y'know, might be the actual killers."

Buffy nodded. "We'll see her coming. The front and side doors are the only ways to get into that restaurant, right?"

"Right," said Faith. "And she's not in there right now. What about the stores inside?"

"None are open and only one has anyone in there. It's a sheet music store with this little old guy who looks like he hasn't had a customer since cassette tapes were invented." She paused thoughtfully. "Really makes it kind of inspirational that he's the first one up and ready in the morning."

Faith nodded. This was good - there might not be a fight, but either way, they would want to be out in the open to see Nina coming. If it was even Nina. Maybe it was stupid to still be holding onto the hope that her friend was going to be okay, but she wouldn't let it affect her judgment.

Buffy frowned at a car that was zooming by. "This is the first location in the golden spiral that's in a public space in almost-broad daylight. Is she going to compensate for that somehow, or does anyone who happens to be taking an early morning walk get the big reveal?"

Oz coughed. "Why don't you ask her?"

Faith, Buffy, and Howell all whirled around. Nina was approaching at a relaxed amble, sunglasses perched on her head and a purse slung over her shoulder. Her gait paused when she saw them, and she held up her hands in mock surprise. "Hello, everyone. What are you doing here?"

"We were going for breakfast," said Faith, indicating the restaurant and swallowing a nervous laugh. "You?"

It seemed ridiculous to fake a normal conversation when every single person here knew exactly what was going on, but Nina sounded so natural that it put doubts in her head all over again. "Shopping. Mr. E wants some songbooks. He's really serious about this idea of getting a band together." She smiled, a patronizing expression. "Well, I'll leave you to your 24-hour diner food. Really hits the spot at 7:17 in the morning, doesn't it?"

The implication sank in all at once, and Faith saw the color draining from Buffy's face at the same moment that she felt it in her own. She looked at her watch, too automatically to fight the impulse. Nina was right: it was 7:17am. Two minutes after the death was supposed to take place.

Oz ran into the diner, Buffy and Faith lunged for Nina, and Howell reeled backward, hand to his face, saying, "Oh God, of course. Why do I only know it now?"

"Take it easy," Nina chided them, not bothering to struggle or even feign surprise as the Slayers each grabbed one of her arms. "Look around you. Is this a crime scene?" She waited until their uncertainty had loosened their grip, then said, "Now let me go get my boyfriend's present."

Oz reemerged, shaking his head in consternation. "What is it?" he asked Howell, who was still distraught.

"Music shop," the pilot said hoarsely. "We ought to escort her."

All four of them did, letting Nina lead the way through the building's main entrance and under a sign reading All Harmony Music. A string of bells on the shop's narrow wooden door rang out as it swung open, but instead of the peaceful scent of books, an odor of fresh blood hit Faith's nose.

Nina screamed, as convincingly as if it had been authentic. Everyone pushed their way in and fanned out to see the body on the floor, an aged shopkeeper in an old-fashioned vest, lying in a pool of blood. Buffy rushed over, but there was no hope: his forearms had each been deeply slashed from wrist to elbow with a bloody pocketknife that had fallen by his head.

"A suicide?" said Oz, aghast.

"Sure," Nina chuckled, all traces of horror gone from her voice. "Let's go with that."

Faith saw the pieces come together, and spoke them out loud, facing Nina. "They were all suicides, weren't they? You just paid them a visit afterward to obscure the evidence." The full magnitude of it hit her. "You were pinning it on werewolves! Your own pack!"

Nina shrugged. "This one won't look like werewolves. Unless you'd all like to step outside for a moment so I can change. No? Alright then. Does anyone want to call the cops, or should I?"

"They're coming," said Buffy, her phone in her hand and her voice just above a whisper, but full of restrained rage. "And you're coming with us."

Footsteps came pounding up to the shop's entrance, and Nina said, "I don't think so," just before it opened. They turned to see, not the police, but Mr. E, his face white and breath rapid.

Nina flung herself into his arms, sobbing. "Oh, Eric. This poor old man. It's just too horrible."

Cleveland was in chaos. The first responders who had arrived at the scene of the shopkeeper's death could see the evidence that it had been a suicide, but there was no easy explanation for why there were six people already there, thirty minutes before the shop was due to open. They were saved from immediate suspicion thanks to Faith's familiarity with the local law enforcement, but everyone had been questioned as a witness - including Nina.

So far, Buffy had heard nothing about the consequences of that interview, but reactions from all over town were spreading through word of mouth and the internet. The people of Cleveland didn't need math equations to know that the murders were coming faster, and they didn't need to know it was an occult ritual to be afraid. Buffy had spent most of the day holed up in Oz's house with Angel, taking calls from the police department and waiting for calls from Eric or Howell, which did not come.

Nobody could quite recall when they had last seen Howell, so he must have slipped away after making his statement at the police station, or he was still being held there. Buffy was almost more concerned about him than she was about Nina. The man was clearly losing his grip, and there were too many ways that the Wolf could use him now, to ruinous effect.

Eric, of course, had left with Nina. Buffy was anxious to know more about where he now stood with her, but Oz had turned down her suggestion to go and speak with him in person. His top priority, he said, was the pack. Early in the afternoon, he had left the house to visit with his people, and he hadn't been back since.

"The question is," said Buffy, handing Angel a fresh cup of coffee, "what's he talking to them about? Is this a 'rally the troops' thing, or is he doing some private investigation of his own?"

Angel swiveled in his chair to accept the mug from her. "I think it's more a matter of checking up on them, seeing if they're okay. With their alphas incommunicado, they'll want some sign of leadership, and Oz seems to be pretty well respected in the pack."

"Huh." Buffy sat down in her adjacent chair, set there so that they could both see Oz's computer monitor. "I wish that didn't make me start wondering about his loyalties again. Are all of us becoming as paranoid as I am, or am I just paranoid enough to make it seem that way?"

It was rhetorical, of course, but his gravely-spoken response surprised her. "I'm not sure we're being paranoid enough."

"What's that mean?"

"This morning you figured out that the murders were suicides, right? That means that every single one of them was infected by the Wolf and forced to act against the strongest human instinct that there is, and they had nothing in common aside from being in the wrong place at the wrong time. What are the limits? Is there anyone the Wolf can't touch?"

Buffy sucked in a sharp breath. "I...I don't know. But if it were one of us - we would know. Howell said he could tell he wasn't himself, and he didn't keep it secret from us. He cooperated. We would do the same."

"If we understood what was happening," Angel insisted. "Even for Howell it was a fine line. He knew he didn't want to fly us to Cleveland, but he convinced himself he did before he even questioned it. If the impulse were a little more subtle, then who knows?"

Resisting her fervent desire to react with more denial, Buffy forced herself to think critically. "If you were the Wolf and you had the Scooby Gang extended edition at your disposal, what would you do with us?"

"Prevent us from interfering with the spiral," Angel began, "but I'm not sure what that would entail, aside from keeping us away from the murder sites."

"Okay, we're already planning to be at each site on schedule, so now we know that backing out of that is a red flag. Good. What else?"

"I would get my pieces set up. Make sure that there would be a victim available at the time and place they were needed."

"And he's already got the owner of Satellite 3 under his control. We can probably expect him to lure in a crowd and then trap them all inside, so we'll need to look out for anyone who has a burning need to go have a drink." An idea hit her as soon as the words were out, and she grabbed Angel's arm for emphasis. "Wait. What if nobody could get a drink that day at all? What if the bar had to close?"

He picked up the thread instantly. "What would force them to close? Damages, maybe?"

"There wouldn't be enough time to vandalize past the point of no return. How about planting something in there that brings Food Safety down on them?"

Angel considered, then shook his head. "Too many variables. For all we know, the health inspector is Wolf-infected."

He pushed back the chair and stood up, pacing the small room while taking meditative sips from his coffee cup. Buffy remained sitting, but followed him with her eyes. It still sometimes fascinated her to observe him, never mind the years that had passed since she discovered what he was, and how they had wrought no visible changes. Once she recognized a vampire, she couldn't unsee it - that was true for all of them, but Angel had such a predatory way of moving that she wondered how she had ever mistaken him for anything else. Even as she admired the view, her instincts were giving her unsolicited instructions on how to best dodge his next attack.

Suddenly she had it. "We can stage a vampire attack. You know how the room clears whenever there's a bumpy face in sight. You and Spike chase all the civilians away, I'll play victim, the three of us stay hiding in there so everyone's afraid to come back."

Angel's face went from surprise to a broad grin. "And if they want to get rid of us, they'll have to enlist Cleveland's best Slayer."

"Right! Faith can come in to help us, Oz can keep watch from outside, and then all we have to do is hold down Nina when the time comes, and not die."

"And I'll be in there already when the sun rises, so I won't have to wait til dark to join you. I was worrying about that."

Buffy bounced to her feet and put her arms around his neck to give him a quick kiss. "I told you we were going to figure something out. Let me call Faith."

The phone rang in her hand, and she put it to her ear without looking at the name. "Hey Faith," she began, then realized that it might be the police instead, or Eric, or Howell. "Um, sorry, I mean...hello?"

"Hi Buff," came the small but kind voice on the other end.

Buffy glanced up at Angel, who had heard the voice as well, and he shrugged slightly to show her that it confused him too. "Will," she said to the phone. "You're calling me. On a phone."

"I had to cool it with the astral projection. My actual body was starting to flicker. Can you get me any kind of information you have on Nina?"

Angel frowned, and Buffy held up the phone so he could be heard: "Like what?"

"Is that Angel? Hey. Like Wolfram & Hart files, art she's made, any personal details you remember...quantity over quality. This is a long shot in the first place but if I can fudge knowing her intimately, it might work." She paused. "I mean, not intimately, her being involved and all..."

"We get the picture," said Buffy. "Are you sure it's a good idea to be spellcasting at all? I don't like when my Willow flickers."

"I'll take care. We're down to the wire, Buff. It's gotta be all in from now on."

After the conversation had concluded, Buffy stood still for a moment, her brow furrowed, feeling as if there was a question she should have asked. "Well," she said to Angel, who had no more insight than she did, "I'm glad she's got her resolve on, anyway."

Barely a word had been exchanged since Oz and Eric had gotten into the car, and nothing was said now that they were parked at the private airport. Eric stepped out of the driver's seat, looking around the quiet lot for signs of life; Oz knew where they were headed and began walking in that direction without hesitation.

They went past the sole terminal and three small hangars before Oz found the one he wanted, took a key from his pocket, and opened the side door. The afternoon light cast only a narrow beam into the vast, dark space, but Eric found a light switch, and the lumpy smudge in the middle of the hangar turned into Howell's plane, the Romulus, right where Faith had said it would be.

"Whoa," said Eric, and Oz could see why. The plane had been vandalized with black spray paint, loose spirals decorating its wings and body. At its nose, one on either side, scarlet eyes had been painted with surprising precision. It should have looked ridiculous, but Oz saw the suggestion of a malevolent beast in those eyes, and he felt uneasy.

"Howell," he said. "He's losing it. We're lucky we got here before he tried flying away."

Eric had gone up to the plane and was inspecting it closely. "The engine is dismantled," he said. "Wouldn't be able to take off in this."

Oz nodded, relieved. His plan had been to ground the plane in whatever way they could manage, but it appeared that Howell had taken that precaution himself. The paint job might have come after, as a way to vent his violent compulsions.

"What now?" asked Eric, and Oz led them back to the terminal. The sole attendant on duty barely acknowledged them, and they took seats in the waiting area, both sniffing the air to be sure there was nobody else nearby to overhear.

"You know I can't promise this will work," Oz said flatly.

Eric opened his hands, then folded them again in his lap. "If you're not sure it won't work, I'll take what I can get."

A tone chimed, indicating that a private plane had landed. Eric looked at Oz, who nodded, and they both stood up. "Does she know we're coming to meet her?" asked Eric.

"She knows I'll be there when she needs me."

The first stars had just hit the sky as Faith's Mustang reached the top of the hill. Before parking, she nudged Spike and pointed at Eric and Nina's house: "Look, the light's on. Someone's home."

"I'm coming in with you," he announced, swinging open the car door and planting a boot on the ground.

"Spike!" Faith huffed in exasperation. She hadn't wanted to have this conversation out in the open, but he left her no option but to get out and slam her door shut. "It's gonna be hard enough to get Nina to talk to me if I'm alone. If you're there I don't have a chance."

Spike was flicking his Zippo furiously at a cigarette. Finally he took it away from his lips, unlit, to retort, "And after she opens your ribcage like a stuck cupboard, I'll tell everyone, yes, I was out in the car, Faith didn't want me cramping her style. Is that right?" He replaced the cigarette, lighting it on the first try this time, glaring at her all the while.

"I'm not planning on giving her any reason to hurt me. Anyway, E's probably in there too, and she'll still be keeping up the act for him." She almost added, If she does decide to attack there's nothing you could do, but decided that probably wouldn't much help her case.

He blew out a long column of smoke. "Mr. E's car is gone." He was right, but she didn't have time to come up with a counter-argument before he added in a lower tone, "And that's not how we do things. Not anymore. If I can't face the danger in your place, I'm bloody well facing it at your side."

Lines like that broke down all her defenses, and she didn't have the heart to tell him he wasn't playing fair. "Fine. But no talking. Literally none, you get me? No hello, no goodbye, no anything in between."

Spike gave her a wolfish grin and turned to the house, duster swirling. It was Nina who met them at the door, Nina alone and showing no apparent change since they had last seen her. She made Spike extinguish his cigarette and then invited them both in. Faith greeted and thanked her and Spike was very conspicuously nonverbal.

"Did Angel send you?" Nina inquired, sitting down with them at the small round kitchen table.

"No," said Faith. "He doesn't know we're here. Angel's got this thing where he thinks he can save people's souls, and sometimes he's right, but I don't think he's the man for the job this time."

Nina was smiling with amused detachment. "And you are?"

"All I want is to see you survive this. I mean, I don't want anyone to die, but us I'm not so worried about. We know how to win."

"By killing me, yes." Nina's voice took on a lecturing tone. "You won't do it. None of you will, but especially not you, Faith. Or your vampire dog." She motioned at Spike, who ground his teeth but maintained his vow of silence. "You're both reformed killers. What you've gained, you can't risk losing now. A backslide would destroy you, Faith."

Faith flinched. She had no problem considering the ethics of eliminating a possessed human, from a philosophical perspective, but she couldn't imagine ever recovering if she deliberately killed again. "What is this, the moral high ground? You gotta be shitting me."

"You think it's just about morality?" Nina snapped. "Magic is nothing but opening doors. Vampire drains a human, demon crosses the dimension and takes over the body. Oz's little redhaired girl, she cast a spell and now she's a practitioner forever. If you kill me - me, Nina Ash, innocent woman - evil gets its invitation. And evil is keeping tabs. Evil is dying to know which one of you it gets to claim when you open the door for it."

Faith's heart was pounding so hard that she noticed Spike looking at her with concern. She wanted to leave immediately, but there was one question raised that she needed to have answered. "What door did you open to let the Wolf in?"

A brief flash of interest showed in Nina's eyes, and then her sardonic smile returned. "I transmitted my condition," she said. "I was new to it myself then, but I was a candidate to host as soon as I bit someone and turned him into a werewolf."

"Can't you fight it?"

"I choose not to."

Faith held back tears as she left, Spike attempting to use his small frame to loom protectively over her and scowling at Nina all the while. He hadn't said a single word while he was inside, but Nina could see as she watched them from the window that they were talking as soon as the door closed behind them, and that they met in a tight hug before getting back into the car.

"Cute," she said out loud as they drove away.

A voice answered from the den, clear but uncertain. "Is it true what you said? You've bitten someone before?"

Nina turned to the man as he emerged from the dark room and joined her at the window. She nodded and touched his arm, still bandaged from the fresh bite. "I know how it works. You'll be fine."

"Oh," said Howell. "Thank you."

The anticipated location for the next sacrifice on the spiral was outdoors again, at the nearest intersection to Satellite 3. More importantly, it was deep into the night, so Angel accompanied Buffy to the site, immeasurably relieved that he could be of use for once.

They found Faith and Spike already waiting there, and before long, Oz showed up as well. Angel hadn't seen all of them in one place in days, though they had been sharing news over the phone since the last murder. He was eager to touch base in person, but Faith seemed shaken about something, and Oz had been cagey about what he had learned with Mr. E. He claimed they had worked out a backup plan, but insinuated it was a "werewolf thing", and kept the focus instead on E's role as double agent.

"As long as we're all on board for Tuesday," said Buffy.

Everyone made a sound of agreement, but she said it again when they had spread out to cover the four corners of the intersection, and only Angel was in hearing range. "It's too easy for the Wolf to sabotage us if he takes control of someone who knows about the plan," she continued. "But it's not like we can keep them in the dark, either."

"That's why we're keeping it simple," Angel replied. "Even if the Wolf knows what we're up to, all he can do is try to get warm bodies into the club. And all we can do is make sure he doesn't."

Buffy nodded grimly, and they fell silent, looking for any sign of life closer than the bar. Spike caught their attention from the spot he had staked out across the street, and pointed. Beneath the sign showing the crossing of Main and Rye, a lady was walking a dog, a shaggy grey ghost in the summer night. "The victim," Angel murmured, and showed Buffy his watch: 2:20am.

Faith reached the woman first, moving at a normal pace so as not to alarm her, but the infection kicked in at that point and she was suddenly fumbling in her purse. "Gun," called Faith, and everyone converged to stop the victim using it on herself.

They succeeded, but not without a fight. The woman was screaming, either in fear or rage, and the dog barked wildly until it found an assailant to bite. It was still hanging onto Spike's leg as an ambulance careened up, sirens blaring.

Angel held the woman from behind, immobilizing her arms and trying to reassure her. Buffy and Faith met the EMTs to explain that they had interfered only to prevent a suicide, and that she still needed to be restrained. Spike detached the dog, and Oz caught it by the leash and made sounds that seemed to calm it down.

"It's 3:07," said Buffy as the ambulance rolled away with the woman in its care. "I think this counts as a success."

She was probably right - with this much time having passed, the Wolf wouldn't be able to manipulate another death into his pattern. Still, Angel had to shake his head. "It won't make a difference to the ritual. Even if we prevent all of them from here on out."

Faith was still staring in the direction that the ambulance had gone. "Yo, how long does the infection take to wear off? That chick was still freaking out when they closed the door."

Angel's thoughts went to Howell, who had shown no improvement and was now at large, but evidence pointed toward that being a more long-term variation on the Wolf's mental influence. "At least she'll have medical care," he said, though he couldn't ignore his own discomfort at the idea. "She'll be supervised as long as she needs it."

There was a silence, broken by the dog whining. Oz looked down at it, then turned to lead it away. "See you guys tomorrow."

The next night's rescue followed a similar sequence. This time it was in the factory next door to Satellite 3, and they cornered a baffled worker in the basement who thought he had come in early to clean up from the night before but instead found himself switching on some potentially fatal equipment when the clock struck 4:58am.

As a group, they overpowered him and called another ambulance to take him away. Angel had to hurry home before the sun came up, but he overheard Faith's discussion with the accompanying police officers as he slipped away, and he wondered if they had saved another person only to leave him indefinitely trapped in a straitjacket.

Oz hadn't been home much, and he had avoided speaking to Angel when he was, but Buffy came over late in the morning and joined Angel in his darkened bedroom. "Tonight's the big night," she said, yawning. "We should get some sleep."

She had brought pajamas with her for that purpose, and she made him lie down with her on the twin bed, pressing her back against his chest and arranging his arm around her. He kept still and listened to her breathing, thinking he wouldn't be able to sleep, but the trust radiating from her small body cast a spell of contentment over him. They had more than one big night ahead, and they would both need to be at peak performance. He slept.

Author's Note: Someone please tell me you caught the ASOAIF nod.