A/N: Reminder: This fic takes place circa 1997. Thank you to my betas Tametiger and Happypancreas.

Chapter 5

I'll show you mine, You show me yours

The morning sunlight shone through Buffy's window. With her eyes closed, she stretched in her bed until she reluctantly rolled to her side and squinted at the glowing red numbers on her alarm clock. Ugh, it was half past "Way Too Early" so she rolled over and closed her eyes.

Sleep.

It was Saturday morning and she refused to get up early on a Saturday. She had been out patrolling the night before and then she had run into Angel. As she recalled the events of the evening before, she groaned, rolled over on to her back and looked at her bedroom ceiling.

Angel's voice echoed in her head.

"I just don't get it, Buffy…" he had said.

Yeah, well, neither did she.

Besides, Angel was wrong!

Since sleep proved to be elusive, she decided that she would have to do something else to keep her mind off of the previous evening's argument.

Decisively, she rose from bed, quickly remade it then she went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth and hair. Once she returned to her room, she dressed in a pair of her favorite sweats and tank top. She put on a pullover jacket, grabbed her Disc Man and headed downstairs.

Upstairs, she heard the muted sounds of her mom moving around in her room. Quickly, she scribbled a note about where she was going so her mom wouldn't worry then walked into the living room and flipped through her mom's CD collection. In the end, she selected one of her mom's favorites, slipped the disk out of its case and into her Disk Man.

Stepping outside, she put on her headphones and smiled as Bono sang "Pride". Turning left, she started to warm up her muscles as she walked to a nearby park only a short distance from her house.

Once she arrived at the park, she found her favorite spot to sit upon the ground and began to stretch her legs. There were few people in the park this early in the morning, which meant that there would be less of a chance of her running into anyone when she reached her clearing.

After fifteen minutes of stretching, satisfied that she had done a proper warm up, she was ready to go. After she secured the CD player around her waist, she turned up the volume and replayed the disc then jogged towards the trees. At the furthest edge of the park's soccer field, she turned onto an overgrown path.

As she jogged into an increasingly wooded area, the path narrowed. When the terrain changed, she increased her speed as she ran uphill.

Just when it looked as if the path had reached a dead end, she slowed her pace and pushed through the bush.

She had arrived at her clearing.

She jogged across the clearing until she reached a large tree at the end, then she stopped and bent down at the base of the tree. Reaching into its base, her hand rooted around pulled out a few items - two disposable water bottles and a rectangular box.

Unscrewing the lid of one of the water bottles, she quickly drained its contents as she glanced hopefully around the clearing and was rewarded by the sight of some thick branches on the ground. After she gathered some sturdy branches, each approximately five feet in length and the diameter of a half-dollar coin, she laid them on the ground next to the tree.

Opening the box, she ignored the small axe that was in a zip lock baggie and instead picked up a different baggie. She opened it and removed the old switchblade that was inside. Picking up the closest branch, Buffy used the blade to scrape off the bark. When she had scraped all five branches, Buffy inspected each homemade staff carefully. Satisfied, she picked them up.

Sam realized he was at a dead end. He had high hopes when he found the path and realized it took him up hill. He was hoping for a space far enough away from Sunnydale where he could do some target practice without drawing attention. He was ready to turn around when he heard a repeated banging that sounded like a fight coming through the bushes. Cautiously, he moved some of the overgrowth apart with his hands.

He saw a clearing with a large tree at the far end and balanced on one long, thick, gnarled limb about twenty feet from the ground was a familiar figure.

Smiling, he walked through the overgrowth. His good mood immediately switched to concern then horror when he realized that Buffy was slipping and falling toward the ground and he began to run.

This is going to hurt, Buffy thought as she plummeted to the ground.

Thinking fast, she tucked herself into a ball and let her shoulder take the brunt of the impact. Rolling across the hard, uneven ground, Buffy ignored the sharp pain that was intensified when her shoulder hit an exposed root before she finished her roll and stood. She picked up the nearest of her handmade staffs and attacked the tree.

Sam slowed when he realized that she seemed unfazed by the fall. She had picked up a piece of wood from the ground, swung it over her head and against the tree's trunk.

Bits of wood flied as she repeatedly hit the tree with full force and he stopped walking, awed at the sight before him. If he had thought she was amazing a few days ago, when she swung the staff around him then he had been sadly mistaken. There were no words to describe this girl.

Amazing seemed woefully inadequate; beautiful, precise and deadly might be closer.

As she whirled around and shredded the last of the staff, she caught a glimpse of Sam. For a brief moment, she debated stopping and continued when she realized that she didn't mind if he watched. If it had been another person, she would have felt self-conscious. With Willow or Xander, she would have felt compelled to talk; with Angel, she would have felt like a silly girl, hoping to impress a boy; and with Giles, she would have been examining every move, looking for answers to his inevitable questions ("Why did you do this, instead of that?").

With Sam, Buffy felt different.

"I just don't get it, Buffy…" As they had this morning, Angel's words echoed through her mind and Buffy pushed the thought away. She grabbed another staff and used it to pole-vault herself into a flip.

She didn't want to think about Angel right now.

Sam dropped his back pack and reached into the pack to feel around for his knife, brushing aside the first aid kit and until the tips of his fingers touched the sheath. Finding his knife, he pulled it out of the sheath and then searched the ground for some good sized branches.

He stripped away the bark working quickly, keeping his eyes focused on Buffy and only looking down at his work occasionally. Once he had two staves completed, he picked one up and started to spin it around.

After shredding her last staff, Buffy stopped and turned and looked at Sam. She couldn't call him an expert at handling a staff, but he seemed competent when she recalled watching Sam swinging the staff a few days before in the library.

He started slow. Buffy was beginning to understand that Sam rarely hurried; each move was deliberate as he passed the staff back and forth from hand to hand in a basic figure eight action. She could feel the other teen's eyes upon her as she walked over to the second staff on the ground and bent down to pick up a staff.

Standing, she faced him and slowly walked backward until she was about twenty feet away. She began to mimic his actions and match his speed.

"I just don't get it, Buffy…" Angel's voice whispered and faded away as she looked at Sam and met his gaze.

Sam's staff began to spin faster, as did Buffy's. Slowly, she began to raise her arms, never slowing the spin of the staff while he did the same. She passed the staff over her shoulder and caught it behind her back with her other hand. Sam continued to mirror her actions with the same deliberate precision.

The pair faced each other and each took turns with basic moves, maintaining the same steady rhythm. Slowly, they began to walk toward each other as they spun, twirled and passed their staves. When they got close enough, they stopped, eyes locked on each other.

"It's really the most I can do." He ducked his head, flashed his dimples and chuckled self-consciously.

"You said, at the library, that you wanted to learn more. Did you mean it?" she asked.

"Yes. What do I do?"

"Attack." she commanded, softly. "As fast and as hard as you can."

Without hesitation, he sung the staff up and brought it down towards her head. He felt the impact run up his arms and into his shoulders when she blocked him. Sam paused.

"Not bad," she observed, lips curved into a smile, "Let's try again, but I want you to pivot around as you bring the staff up and bring the staff down as you come out of the pivot."

Over and over, he attacked with all his strength and she blocked him. Sometimes she corrected him "Try coming up on the left." and "You are leaving your right side vulnerable." Once she was satisfied with a particular move, then she would ask him to do something different.

If a particular attack proved clumsy, then she would show him.

"Try it like this."

He would concentrate on her demonstration, determined to successfully imitate at the next attempt and, each time the petite blonde teen complimented him or smiled approvingly, Sam felt his attraction grow.

~Sam & Buffy~

Sam was breathing heavy as he drank water from a bottle he had in his back pack. He pulled out two apples and tossed one to Buffy, then sat on the ground next to her.

"What is in the box?" Sam asked.

"A straight edged knife, one small axe and a few other small items I keep here. I store them in plastic bags so they don't rust and I hide the box here so I don't have to cart stuff back and forth between here and my home." Water bottle in hand, Buffy pointed to the base of the tree. It just looked like some overgrowth in front of the tree, but as Sam got a closer look, he saw that the overgrowth covered a large opening at the base of the tree.

"Every few weeks, I bring up some water bottles and keep them in there. I don't come out here every day, but it is nice to have a few things here if I need them." Buffy smiled, shrugging her shoulders.

"May I?" Sam gestured toward the box and she nodded her consent.

Sam pulled it closer to him and looked into the box. As she had mentioned, he saw the knife and axe. He picked up the knife and inspected it. It was old, the blade rusty and dull.

"You should keep a sharpener in here. Your knife could use it." Buffy laughed.

"I guess I should. Just lazy I guess."

Sam smiled, the teen-aged Slayer was the farthest thing from lazy.

Buffy turned away from him and stuck her hand into the base of the tree. "I think I have one more water bottle in here."

Sam looked at Buffy's shoulder and his eyes widened.

"Did I do that?"

"Do what?" Buffy asked.

"Your shoulder. Did I do that?"

Buffy craned her head trying to look at the back of her shoulder. She saw the edges of a bruise that was beginning to form.

"Oh that. Nope. That was all me, it happened when I slipped off the branch." She sighed, "It always hurts more when I slip; falling on purpose is a lot less painful." Buffy unscrewed the lid of her last bottle and shrugged. "But either way, it is good practice. On purpose or by accident, I can't let falling down stop me in the middle of a fight."

Slowly, he inspected Buffy as she tipped her head back and drank the water. Her hands held a multitude of cuts and slivers. Her shoulder had a massive bruise, surrounded by scrapes and scratches.

"Does it hurt?"

Buffy looked sideways at Sam.

"Always." She said, dryly. "I feel the pain, Sam, but I also ignore it because I know it won't last for long. I am a fast healer."

Feeling a little awkward, Buffy looked away from Sam and absently picked at a sliver of wood at the base of her thumb.

Sam pulled the box close to him and began to root through it. Knife, axe, stake…giving an exasperated sigh, he stood up and walked away.

She watched him and felt a clenching in her gut at the thought of him leaving.

He picked up his backpack and walked back over to the tree. He dropped the pack and squatted down and began pulling out items. She masked her relief.

Buffy watched as he pulled out a few things she recognized. Knife. Axe. A small plastic bag with matches and what looked like fuzz, couple of water bottles…like Mary Poppins' carpetbag she thought and stifled the giggle that threatened to spill from her.

Intrigued by the fuzz, she snatched the baggie and inspected the contents. She opened the baggie and a familiar smell wafted out. She scrunched up her nose.

"Is that dryer lint?" She asked Sam, a giggle escaping her. Sam Winchester with dryer lint?

His deep chuckle joined hers. "Don't knock it. Dryer lint is a great fire starter, any Boy Scout could tell you that and is essential when hiking or walking in the woods. As is this." Sam pulled out a small black case.

Inside the case were numerous small items, a few of which he pulled out and one he held in his hands. She looked at the small tool and saw a flash of metal. She licked her lips apprehensively.

"Ow."

"You are such a baby." He chided her, amusement lighting up his hazel eyes. "I haven't even started…and stop moving around! I can't get it out if you are squirming around like that."

"Ow." Buffy flinched and pulled her hand away. "This is not a good idea."

Sam looked at her. "Are you serious? C'mon. It won't hurt. I'll be gentle."

An amused snort from Sam when she flinched again as he brought the tweezers down to Buffy's hand.

"Don't tell me that The Slayer is afraid of a 'lil 'ole splinter. Now stop moving and then I can get it out."

Buffy bit her lip and looked away as he carefully started removing the splinters from her hands.

Once he was satisfied that he had removed all of the tiny slivers of wood, he cleaned the tweezers with rubbing alcohol. Next, he spilled some alcohol onto a cotton ball and started to dab at Buffy's hand, carefully cleaning away some of the blood and dirt from the cuts. Then, as if she were a small child, he picked up Buffy's hand and brought it close to his mouth and blew softly onto her hand.

With a sinking feeling, Buffy realized that Angel might be right after all. Gently, she tugged her hand from Sam's.

"What else do you got in there?" She asked lightly, as she pulled his pack onto her lap.

"…how could you say that? It is not a good reason!"

"It is so - they are ugly. That's why!" Buffy picked up a stick and pushed the black metal object towards Sam.

"Ridiculous." he shook his head.

"I don't like them. I would never want to…" she stopped and shuddered.

Sam stopped and started to laugh, she glowered.

"This is funny because…?"

"You. You are the master of bows, swords, staves, stakes…" he started to laugh harder, "but I -haha- just realized that…you...(he took a deep breath and smirked) …have probably never used one."

Buffy looked at Sam indignantly.

"Why? I don't need to use one. I am 'my greatest weapon'." Buffy said tartly, using finger quotes as she repeated Giles' words from earlier that week. "There would never be a reason to use…that."

"You can say what it is Buffy. It's a gun. G-u-n." Sam smirked at her and, once again, she nudged the weapon with her stick.

"Still don't need to use one," she grumbled, under her breath and he snorted.

"I was right. You have never used a gun! Oh shit!" He started laughing again. "You probably couldn't shoot anything if you did."

"I'll have you know that I can learn anything and do anything." She bristled, trying to maintain a sense of dignity. It was not easy, given that Sam was laughing so hard that tears were starting to come out of his eyes.

"Guns are a little different, Buffy." He said, trying to get control of his laughter.

Buffy looked down at the gun on the ground doubtfully and poked it with a stick causing Sam to start laughing again.

"You can't (gasp) even pick it up! Buffy, The Slayer, can't ...use a simple gun. Omigod!"

Irritated, Buffy wrinkled her nose as her fingers picked up the gun; she straightened out her arm and pointed the gun towards the tree that was about ten feet away, closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger.

And squeezed.

She opened her eyes, looked at the gun and squeezed again. Sam roared with laughter, gasping, he managed to squeak out one word.

"Sss..afety! Hahahahah…"

Once Sam got himself under control – where outbursts of laughter became restrained snorts – he showed her the basics of handling a gun. Patiently, he explained the mechanics of the weapon.

Much to her chagrin, it was not as simple as "point and shoot".

First, he showed her how to take apart the gun, described the functions of each piece and lectured her about keeping a gun clean. Once he put the gun together, he took it apart again and laid each piece out. Then, he looked at her expectantly and waved his hand toward the pieces.

"Oh no! You were just going to show me how to shoot. I don't have to know how to assemble the gun in order to shoot one."

"Buffy, it is like learning how to use any weapon. You need to know basics before you can use it effectively." He said reasonably. "If I have never used a staff before, would you have tried to teach me different attack moves?"

She knew he made sense. Hesitantly, she picked up the large piece laid out before her.

"Okay. This is …uh..the grip. And it connects…" she hated the uncertainty in her voice and resolved to master the weapon – no matter how much she disliked it. She continued to label the parts of the gun, grateful for Sam's patient guidance when she forgot or had troubles.

After he made her take apart and reassemble the gun a few times, he decided that she was ready to try shooting. He reached into his pack and pulled out a few targets and tacked them on to a few different trees. Buffy counted out eight targets total. He called her over and showed her how to hold the gun and use the sight.

The gun didn't feel quite so alien to Buffy anymore. In fact, she was getting used to the solid weight of it in her hands; she still didn't like it, but she didn't hate it either. She continued to listen to Sam but when he started talking about wind and drift, she decided she was ready.

"Okay. Well, I think I got it now. Step back and I am going to show you how a Slayer shoots."

"Uh…Buffy," Sam began, pointing to the gun, "I think you should-"

"I got it Sam. I can do this."

Sam stood back and put up his hands in surrender.

"Okay, Slayer, show me how it's done." His eyes sparkled at her and she had the impression that he was holding back a yet another snicker. Spying a target on the tree about twenty feet away, Buffy raised her arm, closed an eye and looked through the sight. Boy, she couldn't wait to see his face when she hit the bulls-eye.

She pulled the trigger.

She heard Sam make muffled sound behind her and felt the heat of a flush work her way up her neck.

"Stupid safety." she muttered.

"Okay, it wasn't as easy as I thought it would be." Buffy admitted, somewhat embarrassed, as Sam started removing targets from the trees after an hour of target practice.

"You actually did well Buffy. It took me a lot longer than an hour before I could hit the corner of a target."

"Really?" Buffy perked up.

"It takes practice, that's all."

"Well, I don't think I am going to do any more practicing," already her resolve to master the weapon had faded. She knew enough now, she figured. "I can shoot but it's not like I will ever…"

"That is not the point!" Sam interrupted. "Why bother with any of it? Why bother to learn how to use a broadsword? How many vampires walk around carrying them? Why bother to learn how to use a rapier? A dirk? Crossbow?"

"It is not the same, Sam. Giles has me learn all kinds of weaponry so that…" she trailed off.

Sam crossed his arms and looked at her.

"Precision. Discipline. Tactics. Versatility." She said the words, almost to herself.

"Exactly." Sam said. "You may never have to use a gun in battle, but you should still know how to use it. Respect the weapon, Buffy. You don't have to love using one, or even like it, but you should still respect it. And one day, it could give you an edge over your opponent."

Sam went to take down another target. A thought occurred to Buffy.

"Were you coming up here to shoot? You have the gun and these targets…"

Sam nodded. "Yes. I promised my dad that I wouldn't let up on my training. He is always telling me about how important it is to practice."

"Can I watch?" Buffy asked.

"We have been here a while, shouldn't you be heading back? Don't you have a bo-…umm…- someone who will be worried if you don't get back?"

She considered his words. "Well, I am kind of hungry. How 'bout just a quick one?"

Sam glanced around the clearing, and then shrugged.

"There are still five targets left, quick as you can, randomly point to each one," he instructed, "then, move away about twenty feet."

Sam watched as Buffy quickly pointed to each of the five targets. He didn't move his head or eyes as she pointed out the targets, he only stared at her until she sprinted away as he had requested. As soon as he determined she was safely out of range, he fired five quick shots, one at each target in the same order she pointed them out.

After Sam removed the last target, Buffy looked them over. There was a small hole in the middle of the bulls-eye on each of the last five targets.

Quickly, the pair finished tidying up the clearing. Buffy put her tools back into their individual baggies then into her box and slid the box back under the tree; Sam collected empty water bottles along with the rest of his items and put them into his pack.

Together, they left and, although neither one spoke, the silence was comfortable. As they got closer to the park, they began to hear sounds of urban life - the squeal of children chasing a ball, the honking of a car horn and, somewhere in the distance, a siren from an ambulance.

Before she knew it, they were walking down her street and although she knew that she should be saying goodbye, she didn't want to.

"Sam? Are you hungry? I bet my mom made some food and you are welcome to come in for lunch, if you want."

Before he could decline, his stomach growled loudly and they both chuckled.

The sky had been darkn for an hour when Angel stood outside of the Summers' home and listened to the laughter coming from within. He was on his way over to knock on Buffy's window to see if she wanted to patrol and wanted to apologize to her for the way he ended things with her the night before.

The front door to the house opened. He had been near the house long enough to know who was walking out. He clenched his hands and he stepped back, further into the shadows; able to hear every word that was said and see as clearly as if he were standing on the porch with them.

"Thank you again, Ms. Summers. The lasagna was delicious."

"It was my pleasure Sam. I am glad you enjoyed it."

Ms. Summer's went back into the house and Buffy stood on the porch with Sam.

"I had a good time, Buffy. Thanks for inviting me earlier."

"Really? I thought you would think the games were a little lame."

"Are you kidding? I love games. I was always trying to get my brother to play games with me on long road trips when we were kids. Plus – well, I probably shouldn't tell you this- but Boggle is my favorite. I used to study dictionaries just so I could beat my brother."

Buffy laughed. "Boggle? Hmm…no wonder you knew so many words with the letter 'X'. I think I could say that you had an unfair advantage. In fact, I think I should have won!" she declared.

"Nope. I won fair and square!" He countered as he looked at his watch then said, clearly reluctant, "I should get going."

Angel watched as Buffy and Sam faced each other in the dark.

"Okay. I guess I will see you at school then."

Sam made no move to leave. He picked up Buffy's hand and examined it in the glow of the porch light.

"Yep." He remarked after a thorough inspection, "You are a fast healer."

Angel felt the sting of disappointment as he noticed that Buffy didn't pull her hand away.

Sam leaned over and brought his face close to Buffy.

"Buffy?" he asked "Is there- someone? A guy I mean?"

She was quiet for a moment as his face inched closer to hers. Angel watched as Buffy leaned toward Sam.

Then she stopped, a small sigh escaped her lips. "Yes. There is, well kinda, someone."

"Oh." Angel heard the disappointment in the teen's voice as he stood up.

"Things are a little – complicated."

"I see." Sam stepped back.

"Sam –"

"I have to go Buffy. My dad has probably been calling the motel for the last couple of hours. I'll see you later.

Angel watched as Buffy went back into the house, her words echoed in his ears.

Kinda Someone. He was 'kinda someone'. She didn't label him as her boyfriend and he knew it was his own fault.

He remembered the fight with Buffy they had the evening before.

"…is this guy, Buffy? I mean the way you're talking about him-"

"What?"

"You act like you-"

"Like I what, Angel?"

"Well, you tell me that you want me to take you on dates and you want to call me your-"

"Boyfriend. It's a word Angel. Boy-friend. Two syllables. You say that you care for me-"

"You know I do."

"Well then, I don't understand the problem. Don't you want to be my boyfriend?" Buffy asked, tears filling up in her eyes.

"It is not that easy. I am older-wa-ay older. I am a Vamp-"

"Don't you dare use that excuse anymore! I told you, I don't care about that."

"Well you should care!"

Buffy was quiet for a moment. "So is this it then? We won't see each other anymore?"

"You know that is not what I mean, Buffy." Angel snapped, frustration clear in his voice.

"Then why?"

"Buffy, I just think that, you don't feel the same way about me as you think you-"

"Seriously?" She groaned in disbelief. "This again? I am 'too young' to know what I want? And what way do you feel about me Angel? What? 'Cause you sure as hell haven't shown me that you want any of this." Buffy waved her hand between the both of them.

Angel tried to find the words to explain.

"It's just that you say you want me to go-on dates with me…" Buffy prompted.

"Yes. But then there is this other guy…"

"What other guy? Do you mean Sam? I have known him barely four days Angel. You can't tell me that you are actually-"

"Yes. I can." Angel said quietly. "I am, Buffy. I am jealous." Angel stood there, feeling a little ridiculous. Jealous of a boy, when he was more than two centuries old!

"You have nothing to be jealous about. He is just a guy I know. A friend even. Like Xander. You aren't jealous of Xander, are you?" Angel couldn't hold back the scoff.

Buffy smiled. "See. A friend: that is all he is?"

Angel looked at her. Then he shook his head. "I think you are wrong, Buffy. I have seen the two of you. There is something there."

"You are wrong. How can you say that? You know me, there is only you."

Angel sighed. "A week ago, I wouldn't have doubted it. But I saw you at the library on Tuesday and-"

"What? When were you at the Library? I didn't see you."

"I came up through the basement, the sun hadn't set yet. I was coming to talk to you and Giles about something. I saw you with him. He was touching your arm and-"

"That? Nothing happened."

"I think there is something there Buffy. And I don't understand why you won't admit it. I just don't get it, Buffy."

"You. Are. Wrong. We are just friends. I barely know the guy."

Angel stepped back. "I saw the look on both of your faces. There was nothing 'friendly' about it" He said coldly. "I've got to go, I will talk to you later Buffy."

The light in Buffy's bedroom came on and Angel looked up. Before he could change his mind, he sprinted over to the house and leapt quietly onto the roof. Quietly, he tapped on Buffy's window. She turned and looked at him, then walked over and opened her window.

"I was a jerk."

"Yes, you were."

"I just wanted to say I was sorry."

Without expecting a response, Angel turned to leave but stopped when she reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him back toward her as she leaned forward and kissed him.

He knew what she was doing and that she was doing for all of the wrong reasons, but he let her kiss him anyway.

After a moment, she pulled back, a small, content smile on her face.

"See. Only you can make me feel this way."

Angel looked into her eyes and his heart sank as he studied her expression. Wordlessly, he pulled her toward him, closed his eyes when she sighed happily and buried the frustration that threatened to explode from him.

When Buffy looked at him, she had the look of a young lady experiencing her first love but, earlier that night, when she was talking with Sam her face showed a very different look and, until tonight, he had never seen this look on her face.

Because when she looked at Sam- there was nothing young or girlish in her gaze.

Strange, how one good deed committed over a decade ago could have such a profound effect on his present.

He was in Africa when he felt it again. Instead of a slow drain, this time the connection deteriorated with a speed that baffled him. He focused his attention on the connection and, just to be safe, he tested his other tethers attached to all of the other contenders yet each tether held strong.

It was only Sam's that was losing its grasp.

The mystic before him grasped his (meat-suits) hand, trying to get his attention. "The key..." he began.

But he didn't listen. Damn the mystics! He had no time for talks of keys and locks. THIS was more important - he must have missed something in Sunnydale and now he needed to go back.

Stay Tuned…