"Well, maybe we should all talk to Faith together," suggested Willow. It was the next day after school, and she, Buffy, Xander, and Giles all sat together in the middle of the forest of chairs resting upside down on their tables in the deserted cafeteria.

"And make it look like we're ganging up on her?" said Buffy, highly skeptical.

"You're right," said Giles, "Faith is too defensive for a confrontation like that. She'll respond better to a one-on-one approach."

"Well, I can be the one...on her one," said Xander. Everyone looked at him blankly. "Let's rephrase. I think she might listen to me. We kind of have, um, a connection."

"A connection?" Buffy repeated doubtfully. "Why would you think that—"

"I'm just saying it's worth a shot," he interrupted a little defensively. "That's all." Buffy and Willow looked at each other, wearing matching expressions of confusion.

"No," said Giles, "I don't see it, Xander. I mean, of, of all of us, you're the one person, arguably, that Faith has had the least contact with."

"Yeah, but we hung out a little, recently, and she seemed to be, um…responsive," said Xander slightly awkwardly. With a painful twist of her heart, Willow understood. She wilted slightly in her seat. So, both of her best friends had chosen Faith over her.

Buffy and Giles, however, were a little slower on the uptake. "When did you guys hang out?" asked Buffy, frowning.

"Oh, she was fighting one of those, uh, apocalypse demon things," said Xander, "and I helped her. Gave her a ride home."

"And you guys talked?"

"Not extensively. No."

"Then why would you—," Buffy broke off, finally getting what Xander meant. Her eyes widened, and she suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. "Oh."

"Oh!" said Giles, also getting it. He and Buffy both looked at Willow, who didn't notice for a couple of seconds.

"I don't need to say 'oh'," she said in a brave attempt at a casual, indifferent tone, "I got it before. They slept together." Buffy watched her sympathetically, and Xander felt the first real stab of shame about his impulsive actions with the dark-haired Slayer.

"Fine, fine, le-let's move on," said Giles after a very tense silence.

The discussion soon turned to the subject of the mayor and his evidently malignant leanings. It was a big problem, and none of them quite new what to do about it. Ultimately (and predictably), Giles suggested research, with which Willow agreed to help him.

[o]

"You and Buffy discussed Faith, I take it?" said Wesley, throwing a punch that Angel blocked lazily. Neither of their apartments was large enough, so they were at the mansion on Crawford Street.

"Yeah, she told me what's going on," said Angel, dropping to a crouch and using a sweeping kick that knocked the Watcher's feet out from under him, causing him to fall to the ground in a heap.

"Are you sure you aren't merely having a laugh at my expense?" Wesley grumbled, picking himself off the floor for at least the fifth time in recent minutes. "Because I distinctly recall asking you to train me."

"I am training you," said Angel patiently. "But you're telegraphing. I can see all of your attacks coming a mile away."

"Why are we sparring already, anyway?" asked Wesley. "You haven't taught me anything yet."

"It was the best way to find out what you know," said Angel. "Which, to be perfectly blunt, isn't much."

"Thanks," said Wesley flatly.

"So it's a good thing you're here now instead of out trying to hunt demons," Angel continued, as if Wesley hadn't spoken.

Wesley nodded and readjusted his glasses, his expression becoming determined. "Shall we continue, then?"

"If you're ready."

The sparring recommenced, with no change in how categorically Wesley was losing. Trying to take the focus away from his humiliating performance, he brought up something else he'd been hoping to get advice on. "So, erm, do you know much about, er, Miss Chase?"

"You mean Cordelia?" asked Angel. He kept his face straight, but it was one of those rare times that it was difficult for him to do.

"Yes," said Wesley. "What, er, what do you think of her?"

The honest answer would have been something to the effect of "I think she's a spoiled, self-centered airhead and you can do much better," but the poorly suppressed hopefulness in Wesley's expression told Angel not to give it. "She's, uh, outgoing and athletic," he said. "I don't really know her all that well, though." Except for when she'd shamelessly hit on him, he qualified mentally. She had, on those occasions, reminded him rather forcibly of some of the more assertive tavern wenches he had known in Galway, which had been both entertaining and slightly alarming. Ultimately, he was very glad that she seemed to have gotten over him. "Why?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," said Wesley quickly, turning bright red.

Over the course of the next hour, Angel went about showing Wesley how to improve his stance to efficiently get the maximum amount of power out of his punches and kicks (weapons would come later). He was so eager to learn as much as he could that he was already showing a fair amount of improvement, but they still had a lot of work to do.

"So, what are you going to do about Faith?" asked Wesley as he went through some of the katas Angel had shown him, with Angel observing his technique critically.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she's threatening to sell you out to the Council! I tampered with their contact information enough to hopefully prevent her from reaching them, but that won't stop her forever, if she's really determined."

"She can try," said Angel, "but I'm not going back to that dungeon." He was through being punished by the prejudice of men. Though he was still reluctant to go as far as believing that he was innocent, he was determined to make amends for his past on his own terms. Or, at least, he would try. Buffy and Wesley believed in him, and he wanted to feel that they had a reason to do so beyond the fact that he had a soul.

They continued training until it started to get dark outside, and then they rounded off the session with another sparring match. Wesley did much better at dodging Angel's blows than before, but he was so surprised when he actually landed one of his own that he dropped his guard, with the result that he found himself on the floor again a second later. Despite this ungraceful finish, Wesley felt lighthearted and eager for the next session.

Buffy arrived as he was toweling sweat off his face and neck, and stopped dead in her tracks. She was, of course, used to seeing Angel wearing an undershirt and sweatpants, but she had so far only seen Wesley dressed in his crisp, very professional suits. The sight, therefore, of him in an old gray t-shirt and navy blue sweats had her struggling, with difficulty, to suppress a fit of giggles. In the end, she managed to pass them off as a cough, which alerted them to her presence. Angel flashed her the kind of brilliant smile she rarely saw from him, which turned her legs into a pair of wobbly noodles that barely supported her weight.

"Good evening, Buffy," said Wesley cordially.

"H-how'd the training go?" she asked, fighting to get a grip on herself.

Angel opened his mouth to answer, but Wesley forestalled him. "It went very well, I think," he said, puffing out his chest comically. Buffy looked at Angel with slightly raised eyebrows.

"It did," he confirmed honestly. "How are you?"

"Okay," she said. "I was just about to head for patrol, actually. Wanted to stop by first, and the note at your apartment said you'd be here."

"Want me to come with you?" he asked.

"No, that's okay," she said quickly. She felt sure that if he accompanied her, not much actual patrolling would take place, and she didn't want to run the risk of failing to protect some unknown innocent because she was too preoccupied with her boyfriend. Especially not now, with Faith's situation still so uncertain and the new trouble of the mayor. "What about you, though, Wes?" she asked.

Wesley jumped slightly, looking positively alarmed at the idea. "Oh, erm. Well. I think, perhaps, it would be wise if I trained a bit more before, er, jumping into the fray," he said, trying to use a sensible, reasoned tone, but failing extravagantly. "I'll, er, see you both later then, shall I?" With that, he left, and Buffy and Angel exchanged amused glances.

"Yeah, he's not going to be ready for that for a while," said Angel, shaking his head and chuckling.

"I know," said Buffy. "But it's really funny when he tries to be the stiff, smooth, in-control guy whenever something freaks him out." She frowned. "Am I still being mean to him?"

"No, it is kinda funny," said Angel. "He takes himself a little too seriously."

After a brief, unavoidable make-out session, Buffy left for patrol. A few minutes later, Angel exited the mansion as well, heading in a different direction. He just had a feeling…all this stuff had been building up with Faith, but nobody was keeping an eye on her. That worried him a little. She was at an unpredictable stage, lashing out at anyone who tried to help her, and she kept making choices that would only create worse problems—for more people than just her.

As it happened, it was incredibly fortunate that he decided to check on her when he did. When he arrived at the thoroughly second-rate hotel where she was staying, it was to find that she had company. Xander was there with her, and was, by the sound of it, making a rather admirable but somewhat ill-advised attempt to convince her that he and the others were on her side, and of the lengths to which he was prepared to go to defend her.

Angel's respect for the boy increased slightly, but then things began to go steeply downhill. Thanking whatever power it was that had excluded public accommodations from the invitation rule, he entered the room. Faith was straddling Xander on the bed, and her hands were at his throat with lethal force. Glancing around for a weapon, Angel spotted a baseball bat leaning against the dresser, and caught it up. Faith looked around just in time to receive the bat full in the face, and she collapsed, unconscious.

This is quite possibly my favorite chapter title of them all. New words are fun, aren't they? And finally some more shirtless Angel. He's been missing for far too long.