"Vampire, huh?" Buffy said to me as we walked along the sidewalk. I'd waited until after we'd deposited Willow at her home before I'd told her about what I'd sensed in the library. She took it rather well, all things considered.

I nodded and slipped my hands into the pocket on my coat. It wasn't cold, but I feel naked without a coat on. I'm a creature of habit, what can I say?

"Was it Angel?" she asked.

"I couldn't be sure." I answered, "Vampires tend to all smell the same to me. Humans at least wear different scents sometimes so I can distinguish them, but alas, vampires have not yet discovered the practice."

Buffy smirked at me.

"Yeah," she said, "I'd noticed you don't exactly smell like a basket of roses."

I must have looked horrified when I turned to her because she started snorting in laughter. I didn't know whether to be angry or relieved.

"You're jesting with me." I said.

"Of course! You smell fine, Marge, don't worry about it." She gave me a nudge and then became serious again.

"So why would a vampire be watching me in the library unless it was Angel?" she asked. She had a good point. I thought for a moment, but decided that whatever the vampire had heard wouldn't exactly benefit the Master in anyway, so it must have been Angel.

Right?

"I couldn't say." I said apologetically, "All I know is, something was observing us, and I don't like it. Hence my walking you home."

"Afraid I can't look after myself?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"On the contrary, you're perfectly capable, but that doesn't mean you wouldn't find annihilating creatures of evil intent a bit easier if you had some help."

She frowned a little, but shrugged and tucked some of her blond hair behind her ear.

"Suit yourself." She said.

"And I thought I'd keep vigil around your home," I added, "just in case. Angel has permission to enter your home, he may exploit it. I thought I'd just keep an eye out so you can rest."

"Don't you need to rest?" she asked, frowning at me, "You've looking a little pale lately."

I give her wry look.

"Well, not having a pulse will have that effect, dear." I reminded her. Buffy rolled her eyes at me and made an odd sound in her throat.

"I mean you've been looking paler. Like, you have bags under your eyes and all that. Aren't you sleeping?" she asked.

"Quite soundly." I replied, "I just…haven't fed in a while." I grimaced, "I'm going to have to make another run on the hospital soon, I'm afraid." I didn't look at her when I said this, but she didn't say anything negative, which was about as much permission as I was going to get.

"Is everything…" she began, but trailed off and tried to act like she hadn't said anything.

"Under control?" I finished for her, knowing what she was thinking. She was thinking I might be feeling the blood lust. And I was, but not very strongly. I was in the early stages of withdrawal, so mostly I was just very fatigued feeling.

"Yes." I said, ignoring the hissing chuckle of the Essence.

"Just checking." She said.

We didn't speak again until we neared her house, and then, surprisingly, I was the one to break the silence. But not out of desire to strike up a conversation.

No, something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Wait." I said, coming to an abrupt halt. We were just at the end of the walkway to Buffy's home when the overpowering sent of vampire hit me. It was stronger than the scent in the library had been, and it smelled…hungrier somehow.

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked, looking around for signs of a threat.

"Vampire." I said, sniffing the air again. "It's strong."

"The vampire?" she asked.

"The scent." I frowned in concentration, worry beginning to take hold of me. "It's still here." I looked at her, and we both realized what that meant.

"Oh God." Buffy breathed, "Mom!"

As if on cue, we both whirled and bolted for the front door, and she burst through it so hard I thought I heard the doorframe crack as the door flung open.

"Mom!" she screamed, racing through the house at lightning speed. The scent was getting stronger.

"Towards the back!" I told her, presuming that area was the kitchen since we were now sprinting through the dining room.

Buffy put on a fresh burst of speed, and we both ran through the doorway to the kitchen, but we both stopped short when we came upon the sight I had been dreading to see.

Angel stood there, showing his true face, and holding the unconscious form of Buffy's mother. There was a bite mark in her neck, and it was fresh. The scent of blood still hung in the air, stirring the Essence.

Food

'No. She's hurt, not food.'

Hungry

'We'll feed later.'

That's cold! She's…warm. Can you not feel it?

She was warm, true, but I was too angry at the sight of Angel to even think about doing eating.

"You…" I growled, and something feral came out in my voice. I felt my shoulders tense, and I felt my fangs lower as I snarled again in rage.

"Wait-" he said, "This isn't-"

"How dare you!" I shrieked, lunging at him, forgetting for a moment that he was still holding Buffy's mother. He stumbled back in surprise at my attack, dropping her. Buffy was there in a flash, and caught her as I slammed into Angel, knocking him into the wall.

I grabbed him around his throat with both hands and spun, flinging him back the way we had come. I knew I had to get him off his feet if I wanted to get the advantage on him. He was a good head and shoulders taller than me, and out reached me as well, so I had to get in close to do any damage.

As soon as he hit the floor, I rushed him, throwing punches as fast as I could, and throwing in a kick to the ribs whenever I thought of it.

He couldn't protect everything at once, and for a moment I had the advantage over him. I got a few hits in; I felt skin break and heard a bone or two pop as he grunted and tried to block my swings.

Angel took me by surprise when he caught my foot the next time I tried to kick again. He twisted my foot, and I couldn't help but turn with it, losing my balance as I did so.

I hit the ground, but instead of trying to pull my foot out of his grip, I pushed it toward him when he pulled again, catching him off guard long enough for me to roll over and sit up. I lunged at him again, throwing in another snarl for good measure.

My head slammed into his face. He yelped in surprise and pain and fell backward, his head banging first on the cabinets, and then on the floor. I grabbed his head with both hands and slammed it on the floor again.

He groaned and reached up to push me off, so I slammed his head down again.

"Stop!" he begged, grabbing hold of my arms, but he didn't try to push me off.

I ignored him and started to slam his head down again, but he starting pleading again, talking as fast as he could before I could cut him off.

"It wasn't me! It wasn't me, I swear!" he babbled.

"You had her." I growled, trying as hard as I could to crush his skull. "You were feeding from her. There's a bite mark!"

"Do I really look as though I've fed lately?" he demanded, grimacing in pain at the pressure I was putting on his skull.

What he said did give me pause. Like me, he had darker circles under his eyes, and what's more…he was a vampire. He should have been able to shake me off by now, even with me trying to crack the floor with his head.

He wasn't at peak performance, which meant he wasn't at his strongest. This meant he couldn't have fed recently, and certainly not within the past few minutes, otherwise he would have wiped the floor with me. He still would have been in a feeding frenzy and at his most powerful.

I frowned, uncertain, and then leaned closer and inhaled.

There was no scent of blood on his breath.

I pulled back and frowned, looking to Buffy, who was now standing over us, looking furious.

"He speaks true." I said reluctantly. "He didn't feed from her."

"Then he was about to." She retorted. "You saw him."

She had a point.

"No," Angel tried protesting, his voice weak and a bit slurred, "no, I-I wouldn't-"

Without warning, Buffy suddenly pushed me off of him, grabbed Angel by his shirt, hauled him to his feet, and all but dragged him out of the kitchen, through the living room, and threw him out of the front window.

I watched him hit the ground. Hard.

He groaned, and struggled to his feet, clutching the back of his head, where I saw very dark splotches of blood covering his scalp. He looked at us, and I snapped my fangs at him in warning while Buffy crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

"You're not welcome here." She declared, her voice shook a little, but she spoke determinedly, "You come near us and I'll kill you."

He stared at us, and I saw something akin to shame flit across his true face.

Buffy turned and left us.

I continued to stare at him.

"I swear I wouldn't have done it." He whispered.

"You best be gone, Angelus." I replied, "The Slayer makes no idle threat. And don't offer me false assurances." I swallowed and started to turn away, "For I too know what the lust for a fresh kill can do."

As I walked away, I heard him reluctantly turn and walk away as well. There was something so sad about that sound. It sounded like defeat.

I felt a strange pang of regret, but at the same time, I felt exhilarated at our victory.

It didn't last long, of course.

I found Buffy in the kitchen, the phone pressed against her ear as she called for an ambulance and knelt by her mother.

Her mother was starting to regain consciousness, so I quickly retracted my fangs and went to help, ignoring the excited hisses the Essence was filling my head with.

When she saw me come in, she handed me the phone.

"Call Giles." She ordered. I nodded and took the phone from her. I had just begun dialing when caught a whiff of two people coming.

"Xander and Willow are here." I informed her, pausing. She ignored me, or otherwise was too preoccupied to hear, so I finished dialing.

"Hey, Buffy!" Xander called as he mounted the porch.

"We just came by to-" Willow began, but by that time they both had entered the kitchen and stopped dead still when they saw the scene before them.

"What happened?" they both demanded.

"Angel." Buffy answered grimly.

"Or someone he knows." I offered. "Nearly him, though."

"Hello?" Giles' voice on the other end of the line had a calming effect on my racing mind and hungering body that was still having fits at being denied the fresh, warm blood it could feel nearby.

"Rupert," I breathed in relief, "It is I."

"Yes, Margery, what's wrong?" he asked, evidently picking up o something in my voice.

"There's been an attack at Buffy's home," I explained, "her mother's hurt. Bitten. We've called an ambulance but we thought you should be notified."

"Oh my God." He breathed, "Is she-"

"She'll live." I answered. "She's lost a good deal of blood, but not enough to prove fatal."

"All right, I'll meet you at the hospital. Do you know if the attack was…Angel?"

"I have reason to believe it wasn't, but we had a confrontation nevertheless." I answered, "But…it doesn't look good for him. I'll explain all at the hospital."

"Of course, I'll be there at once."

I hung up and turned back to the children.

Xander and Willow hovered, frightened and not knowing what else to do. Buffy cradled her mother's head in her lap, not acknowledging anything else.

I have to confess, the sing of such love and devotion smote my heart, but I had to get Xander and Willow doing something before they started breaking down as well.

"You two," I said, snapping them out of their thoughts, "go and find something to clean and dress the wound with."

They nodded and immediately disappeared, happy to be doing something, while I stayed standing there, staring at Buffy. She didn't even seem to know I was there, or that the two younglings had left the room.

I could do no more here, so I cleared my throat and moved towards the door.

"I'll…I'll show the medical team where to come." I told her, and she gave a slight nod to show she had heard me.

"And to try and distract them from the broken window." I muttered under my breath as I strode from the room.

I wouldn't want to be Buffy trying to explain that one.