Taking a familiar shortcut to the Bronze, Buffy walked through a dark alley. This was not foolhardiness: from now on, the darkest alley in the most dangerous city would be safer than anywhere in the open in Sunnydale. Buffy now had many enemies in both the light and the dark; so she took the most obscure path in order to avoid unnecessary confrontations.

"Hey, B," called a familiar voice. Faith stepped out from a dark doorway and struck a martial pose. She charged and tried for a kick, but Buffy ducked, parried and delivered a punch.

"Believe it or not, I'm glad to see you survived your fight with Spike," said Buffy.

"Yeah, I'll bet you're even happier that your boyfriend made it, too," replied Faith.

"He's not my boyfriend!" shouted Buffy as she blocked a kick from Faith and delivered one of her own.

"Coulda fooled me," said Faith. "Don't know why else he woulda come back for you."

"He's still not my boyfriend!" yelled Buffy as she noticed that, in spite of her soul, she was having difficulty suppressing a primordial vampire urge to kill a Slayer. Out of her fury, she let loose a kick. Faith slid under it and swept Buffy off of her feet. Buffy fell hard and yet bounced back onto her feet in time to get a pummeling from Faith. Then Faith delivered a kick that sent Buffy into a set of garbage cans that crashed about loudly. As Buffy struggled back to her feet and put up her guard, Faith drew a stake from her belt and came toward her. The Slayer began to weave in and out of Buffy's space, searching for openings.

"Faith, stop!" called Giles as he emerged from the dark behind the Slayer. "You don't want to do this."

"I don't?" asked Faith. "Right. The Council would probably only reward me for killing a vampire, especially one that tried to drink my blood only this morning. They might even let me choose my own watcher. At least that's what someone told me."

"You know that Buffy has changed," said Giles.

"What makes you so sure I do?" asked Faith.

"Because I trust your ability to know such things," Giles said.

"Why do I need to play by your goody-goody rules?" asked Faith. "Don't the lives I save every night entitle me to make up my own rules?"

"Very well," said Giles turning and walking away. "Go ahead and slay her."

"Hey!" said Buffy, "thanks a lot."

Ignoring Buffy, Giles continued, "But you know that the creature you'll be slaying is not the same as the one that tried to kill you this morning. You know she is different."

He continued to move away, and, in spite of herself, Faith backed away from Buffy and toward him as she said, "Answer me! Why don't I deserve to decide what's right? I'm the only one with the strength and skill…"

"…to fight the vampires and demons and stop their evil," Giles finished for her. "Being on the side of good means having to play by a set of rules not as easy as the rules the other side plays by. We can't play by their rules, Faith, or we'll lose everything that we're fighting for.

"Look, we can't destroy someone only because of what they might do. I know you have it in you to cross that line, but you know deep down that as long as Buffy or Angel or any other creature has a soul, they have a potential to do good; as long as they are not against us, we have no right to slay them arbitrarily. We destroy vampires because it is in their natures to do evil—most vampires. You know in your heart that Buffy, now, like Angel, is different."

"So what if she is different?" asked Faith. "How do you know Buffy or Angel won't turn evil again?"

"I don't, and if they do, then I'll be the first to commend you for slaying them—if they turn evil."

"So what happens now?" asked Faith, near tears of frustration. "I suppose I go back to being Buffy's shadow."

"What are you talking about?" asked Buffy. "You aren't in competition with me anymore. I'm a vampire. Remember? You are the Slayer now."

"Someday perhaps both of you will realize that you were never in competition—or never had to be, anyway." With these words, Giles came close enough to touch Faith. "There are more than enough vampires in the world for more than two slayers. But Buffy is right, Faith. You are the one and only Slayer now. And if you will have me, my offer to be your watcher still stands."

Faith looked up at Giles. She was palpably struggling within herself as if compelled by conflicting urges to throw her arms around him, escape him or—failing that—rip his throat out. She finally hugged him so hard that something in his body cracked noisily. "Sorry," she said loosening her grip.

"Not at all," he said. "If anything, I feel better now. Perhaps you have a dual career ahead of you: Slayer by night, chiropractor by day." Faith laughed through her tears. "Do you mind if I have a brief word with Buffy?" he asked.

Go ahead," she replied. "Take your time."

"That was some speech," Buffy said as Giles approached her.

"Thank you," said Giles. "The pitty is that tomorrow I wont be able to recall a word of it."

It was Buffy's turned to laugh as she wondered where this newfound sense of humor had come from—or had it always been there? "I wanted to apologize for that dirty old man crack last night," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he advised.

"I don't know where that came from," Buffy said.

"Really, don't worry about it. There is always sexual tension between people who live or work closely together. I believe that you and I always had just enough emotional maturity to understand that the affection between us was based on respect and, I think, on my part at least, admiration. Vampire Buffy, on the other hand, could never understand not acting on every impulse in the most perverse way. She-she couldn't understand what you and I had—what she still remembered—so she sexualized it." He half turned toward Faith but thought better of it. "Thank you for reminding me, though, because I fear I will need to be on my guard more with her than I was with you. I suspect that she may be less able to tell the difference between a gesture of affection and a violation."

"Good luck," said Buffy.

"Thank you," he said.

"You'll need it." Whey they hugged then, Buffy realized that, even though they might see each other in the future, this was a kind of goodbye.

Giles turned and walked to where Faith stood waiting for him.

"By the way," said Buffy.

He turned back toward her. "Yes?"

"The admiration? It's mutual," said Buffy. Giles smiled and turned back toward Faith. He placed a hand cautiously on her shoulder and guided her away. "Hey, Giles," added Buffy. "Didn't I tell you not to follow me?"

"Fortunately," said Giles, neither stopping nor turning around this time, "I am not your watcher anymore; so I don't have to follow your orders."

"Does that mean you have to follow mine?" asked Faith.

"No," said Giles firmly.

The Bronze was enveloped in the seductive, rhythmic patter of a drum. Over the thump of the base, rapidly tickled strings hypnotically joined in with a steady rhythm that transformed into a tune. The bouncy music was distinctly Middle Eastern, driving yet playful. Center stage, a dark-haired woman stood in a golden, tassle-adorned belly-dancing costume, swaying and luxuriantly crying in song. Xander saw the pleading of her gestures and looks and heard the painful yearning as she variously drew out the syllables of the same short words: singing them over and over, yet making them fresh each time. Without knowing any Arabic, he understood that she was pleading with her lost love to come back to her.

Xander sat alone in a cushioned chair next to a table that primarily served the adjacent couch, which held a cheery threesome—a girl sandwiched between two boys. Both males seemed to be interested in her, and she basked in the attention, showing no favoritism so far as Xander could tell. Then again, he was not paying that much attention to them; rather, he was nursing his own yearning and a coffee set precariously on his end of the little table.

The singer seemed to take turns with the instruments: now part of the rhythm, now back to carrying the melody; her voice wove around and around the strings and drum. A dozen people were on the dance floor. They swayed, seduced by the hypnotic music: the drums and strings as well as the voice of the singer who, according to the sign on the board outside of the Bronze, was named Natacha Atlas.

Xander gazed almost incuriously at the dancing couples until he noticed the familiar form of Cordelia Chase, dancing alone. She undulated seductively and swayed with an unearthly fluidness. A nearby couple left the floor abruptly when the girl caught her partner ogling Cordelia. Another youth approached and began to dance closer and closer to Cordelia, orbiting her body like a planet around a star. At first, with eyes closed, Cordelia seemed to ignore him. She raised her hands high above her head, put her palms together, dipped slightly and opened her eyes, looking directly at the boy.

Xander could hardly believe that Cordelia was here—so vividly present—and flirting with another guy. The crowd was caught up in the fevered beat and haunting plaint, as Atlas approached a climactic intensity; Cordelia's new partner was caught up in a fever more intense than that of those about him. Xander's mouth opened as he watched Cordelia glide up to her dance partner and turn her body in a full-contact pirouette. The fellow got an extended feel of her body—all around—against his. Cordelia took his hand and swung under his extended arm just as Atlas and her band ended their song with the sound of a gong. Cordelia smiled radiantly at her partner, and he smiled too as she backed toward the door, drawing him with her. Xander noted with awe that she never seemed to look where she was going. He thought that Cordelia must either have eyes in the back of her head or else somehow was making the crowd part so that she never had to take her eyes from her victim. When she had nearly lured the boy out of the door, Xander suddenly realized that he was witnessing not simply Cordelia's betrayal of Xander, but her intended murder of her partner. Without stopping to ask himself how he could stop it, he followed them out of the club.

By the time he had elbowed through the crowd and out onto the street, Xander could no longer see Cordelia or her would-be boy-snack. He anxiously looked up and down the street; then he listened keenly and heard the rattle of a storm fence and a single yelp—both of which came from the alley around the corner.

Dashing to the scene, he arrived just in time to see a game-faced Cordelia finish draining her victim who then slid down the fence into a limp sitting position. Cordelia looked at Xander slyly as blood dribbled from the corners of her mouth. With two flicks of her tongue she cleaned each corner.

"I thought you might follow us," said Cordelia, shaking off her game face.

Xander hesitated. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked from Cordelia to the body at her feet.

"Aww," she said. "Why the tears? Happy to see me?"

"It's 'cause, even though I know you aren't Cordelia anymore," he said, "I can't help seeing her in you."

"Well, excuse me, but from my point of view, I'm better off this way than I was as that clueless victim."

"I just can't stand losing you this way," said Xander.

"Oh, there's some better way you'd rather lose me?"

"Maybe any other way. No. That's not true." Xander mused, seeming to forget where he was. Then his eyes fell again on the body leaning against the storm fence. "I can't say I enjoyed seeing you giving that poor guy a vertical lap dance."

"Aw, come on and admit it: it turned you on just a little, right?" she said in a sultry voice.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

Cordelia put her game face back on. "You didn't just follow me out to be all loserish and moralistic, did you? I think you came along because you knew that once I did this guy I would be too sated to simply eat you. I might consider turning you into a vampire, too."

"You're insane!"

"Am I? Whatever. The fact is, now that we're here alone, I'm not going to just let you walk away. But the good news is that you were right: I am inclined to make you one of me. If we can just get rid of that goofy human 'tude, you might just make a decent boy-toy. You'd like being a boy-toy wouldn't you? It'd sure be a step up from the usual self-abuse." Cordelia advanced as Xander backed away. "Now, now, Nighthawk," she said, mocking the heroic-sounding codename Xander had adopted the previous summer. "You haven't got a chance of getting away or—don't make me laugh—of slaying me." She suddenly looked at something over Xander's shoulder. "Make that zero chance of surviving at all if Buffy's hungry."

Xander wheeled about to see Buffy approaching them rapidly. "Oh, my God!" he cried in despair.

In the next instant, Buffy was upon them and delivered a flying kick to Cordelia's head. Xander was able to step out of the way; afterward, though he considered running for his life, his legs would not move any further. His eyes were fixed on the battle before him.

Buffy tried not to let Cordelia recover from the kick; she pummelled Cordelia with punches and more kicks, but Cordelia rolled out of the way and took Buffy down with a kick. Both vampiresses popped back up and then squared off.

"Forget it," said Cordelia. "I have dibs on Xander, and whatever you've got planned, I'm turning him."

"Not if I can help it," replied Bufly.

"Oh, give me a break! Buffy has to get all the guys in death as in life? I think not!" Cordelia threw a kick followed by a punch. Both connected and Buffy stumbled. As Cordelia moved in to deliver more punishing blows, Buffy recovered and struck back.

Her counterattack did not last, however. Cordelia quickly regained the upper hand and bashed Buffy twice with a handy length of rebar. When this brought Buffy to her knees, Cordelia flung aside the rebar and kicked Buffy's head, sending her sprawling backward. Cordelia looked around until her eye's fixed on what she was looking for: a wooden lath lying broken in the gutter six feet to Xander's left. She went toward it, only stopping long enough by Xander to acknowledge him with the words: "Don't go too far, lover." Suddenly, Xander brought the rebar up from where he had hidden it at his side. Cordelia walked right into it. The rebar sank into her mid-section and came out of her back. She stopped and looked down in disbelief. She then looked at Xander and, with a flash of fury in her eyes, backhanded him so hard that his feet left the ground. He crashed against the storm fence and was knocked unconscious. He slid down the fence and settled next to Cordelia's earlier victim.

Buffy came at Cordelia from behind, but Cordelia turned around quickly, just in time to hit Buffy in the side with the rebar that still stuck out of her. Buffy went down but rolled into the gutter. In a split second she saw and grabbed the lath. She was on her feet an instant later, the stake in her raised right hand.

Cordelia, with obvious pain etched on her face, pulled the rebar out, held it before her like a two-handed sword, and glared at her adversary. "Seeing you with a stake in your hand brings back memories," said Cordelia bitterly.

"It's all coming back to me like you wouldn't believe," replied Buffy.

Cordelia looked determined, but then, in the next moment, looked woozy. "You trying to tell me you've switched sides—again?"

"Yeah, well, you know that little business about the Orb of Thesulah?" said Buffy. "I kinda failed to stop that."

"Bummer. So you have your soul again?" asked Cordelia. Buffy did not reply but only shifted her stance. "Oh, the hell with it," Cordelia said. Throwing aside the rebar, she turned and ran away, barely pausing long enough to say. "Do whatever you want with Xander."

Buffy started to follow, but pain made her stop and put a hand to her side where she felt a tenderness that suggested broken ribs. A few feet away, Xander moaned. Buffy went over to him, knelt and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Xander looked up with groggy eyes for a long, silent moment before he recognized her. "Ahhh!" he cried as he jerked his shoulder out of her grasp. Eyes wide with fear, he desperately searched about him with his hands, for what Buffy could only guess. He felt the body of the boy next to him and recoiled. Then he crossed his index fingers and held them up between himself and Buffy. "Get back, fiend!" he yelled.

"Xander, don't be afraid."

"You just won the right to make me your boy-toy before you drain me dry!"

"Huh?" said Buffy. "No, look, Xander, it's me, Buffy. Well, not the completely human Buffy, but I've got my soul back. Willow's spell worked."

"It did? Buffy? It's really you?"

"It's really me, Xander."

One of Xander's hands approached her tentatively, resting lightly on her shoulder as she put her hands on his shoulders. He hesitated, but finally said, "Oh, what the hell," before embracing her.

In the distance, police sirens grew in Doppler intensity. "Let's get you back to Robello Drive," Buffy suggested. At first, Xander just sat and shivered, but once Buffy helped him to his feet, it was not difficult to persuade him to leave.