HEY THERE! Yup, it's me again. I am SOO sorry for the delay, but it took me a while to get back into the spirit of things to finish the latest chapter. Been trying to go through the old Buffy/Angel DVDs, read some of the new comics and such. But fear not, this story is still going strong.

Happy reading, and remember : feedback good. Fire bad. Tree Pretty!


Bring Me to Life

Part 13 – Flaned, Freaked, Flirted and Foiled


"God, how I love Flan", sighed a content Andrew as he eyed the precious, aromatic caramel liquid steaming from the giant pot. He was ecstatic that Angel's hotel kitchen was so, well…awesome. Equipped with state-of-the-art appliances, fully stacked cupboards, and a kick-ass conventional oven, Andrew was in gourmet heaven.

"It's all so…beautiful," he said, his voice trembling with reverence.

"What's the deal with you and cooking, anyway?" asked Anya as she observed the boy from the left side of the oven. "I know that typically most females think it's a turn-on for a guy to prove he can do something other than scratch themselves in inappropriate places when they think nobody's looking, but this is starting to border on 'unhealthy obsession'."

Andrew turned to the former Vengeance Demon with an indignant look on his face. "The culinary arts are a vastly underappreciated genre. One that ought to be treated with the respect and the dignity that it so rightfully deserves, and…stop touching my egg beaters!"

As he snatched away the cooking utensil from Anya's hands, she gave him a wry glance. "You're probably the only guy on Earth that'd say that to a woman."

Andrew reddened with embarrassment as he realized the double-entendre behind the statement (which was a rarity, considering his obliviousness to most snarky comments made at his expense). "So, anyway, how come you're hanging out down here in the kitchen, anyway? I figured you'd be in the war rooms with the others. I mean, you're much better at this whole apocalyptic…stuff, with your vengeance knowledge, and your demon knowledge and everything-knowledge."

Anya pursed her lips, her eyes clouded in thought as she quietly uttered a single word. "Xander."

"Him, too", Andrew agreed, absentmindedly. "He's been through, like six or seven different apocalypses. He's got a ton of cred—ow!" He rubbed his arm tenderly after Anya's palm sharply connected with it.

She rolled her eyes, amazed at how dense this boy was. Seriously, he wouldn't get a clue if he made out a check for one. "No, goofus. I meant it's…it's not easy being in the same room with him these days."

Andrew had kept his eyes trained on the liquid boiling in the pot, but looked up from his cooking as he listened to Anya's suddenly morose commentary. A look of understanding washed over the boys face. "Ah…right. The thing with you and Xander that happened earlier."

Surprised, Anya stared at the boy. "I…you heard about that?"

Andrew simply rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, sweet Anya. I heard the buzz. A blind guy could see it coming a mile away."

A flustered look came upon her face. "Oh, my God…it was that obvious?"

"Well, duh," Andrew replied, sagely. "It was as plain as day to see . The flustered looks, the hungry stares, the way your words cut into each other while jockeying for position…it doesn't take a reformed evil genius to see the writing on the wall."

"Really?" the blonde asked quietly.

"Of course, I'd be mad, too, if I was in your position," he added sympathetically.

A smile brightened her face at the Star Trek-obsessed fanboy's words. Of all the people under this roof, she never would have expected him to get her so easily. "You…you would?"

"Of course," he replied. "I mean, that is one great room up there he's got, not that your room is any worse, with that awesome balcony view, but – owww!"

Andrew winced as he felt Anya's manicured hand rap him sharply across the back of his head.

"The room?" Anya huffed in annoyance. "You think I'm this worked up about a stupid room?"

"Hey, watch it! You nearly made me spill my Flan!" Andrew protested, his hands hovering protectively around the pot.

"Oh, go Flan yourself," Anya retorted. "Here I am thinking we were having a meaningful conversation, and there you are, thinking I was obsessed over a balcony view? How superficial do you think I am?"

"Not very," Andrew meekly replied, but off Anya's offended glare, he stammered, "I mean, not at all! You're deep, like, super-deep! Like Sharon Stone in 'The Quick and the Dead' or-or Pamela Anderson in 'Barb Wire,' whose performance, I think, was very underrated – "

"My god, have you ever known life outside your television and DVD player?" Anya sighed, frustrated. She should have known better than to hope for a bear-your-soul moment with a virgin whose idea of depth couldn't extend further beyond watching all six Star Wars in a row. Still, she relented, she did need someone to talk to and, unfortunately, he was the only one here.

"It's not the damn room, it's…just Xander. I know I should be over it, I mean, the guy left me standing at the altar, even after everything we've been through, everything we meant to each other…I mean, I gave up being a powerful and feared Vengeance Demon for that man – "

"Actually, I heard you lost your powers before you and he got together," Andrew interjected.

"Okay, you cut me off again, and I'm pouring that Flan down your pants, got it?" she menaced the now-cowering boy before continuing. "See, the point is, I give that idiot all I've got, only to have him throw it all back in my face, and I know that I shouldn't think twice about it, and that he's not even worth the time of day anymore, and yet, when I'm around him…"

"Let me guess," Andrew ventured, as his voice suddenly turned morphed into a cheesy Peppy Le Piu impersonation, "…you want him to wrap you in his arms, caress your hair, and smother you with loving, tender, passionate – "

"I want to knee him in the balls!" she cut him off. "He's just so frustrating that it's maddening. He's immature, stubborn, a complete and totally insecure ass, and-and-and…" she sighed in carnal frustration, "…he's just so damn sexy that it hurts."

Andrew nodded, taking in the sight of the obviously still heart-wounded girl.

"…And all this time we've been in the hotel, even on the way here, he's been so wrapped up in helping Cordelia? I mean, what's up with that? The only reason I even ended up here is because she wanted to make him pay for making out with Willow – big waste of time that was, seeing as how she took her streamers to march in the Purple Parade. All they ever did was take pot shots and stabs at each other's pride, even when they were dating, and yet, all he's been talking about is 'poor Cordy', 'she's a helpless victim,' blah-blah-blah," she ranted. "Ugh, I don't get it."

"Have you talked to him about it?" Andrew asked.

Anya waved away that suggestion. "What's the point in talking if he's not doing any listening?"

"At least you'd be communicating," he said, turning to the pretty ex-shop keeper.

She couldn't stop the wave of fear from rushing over her. And, for the life of her, she couldn't understand it. For more than a thousand years, she had inspired fear among deceitful men who preyed on wronged women as the reviled Anyanka, Patron Saint of Scorned Women. She would have considered any man who would dare have the nerve to approach her as to be brave or foolish.

So, why did the thought of bearing her soul to a wisecracking 23-year old construction worker who dumped her at the alter scare her worse than a life-sized Energizer Bunny?

"I can't," Anya muttered. "It's…it's too hard."

"But if you let your fear, anger, or denial get in the way of talking through things, it's only going to keep you further apart," Andrew rationalized. "And he'll never know unless you tell him how you feel." He shrugged. "Heck, for all you know, maybe he feels the same way about you."

The hope dawned in her brown eyes was practically glowing. "You…you really think so?"

"Well, yeah, I mean…c'mon, just look at you. You're beautiful, and smart, and you've got a really painful left hook," Andrew chuckled, remembering Anya's bad-cop role when Andrew was interrogated on The First a few weeks back. "Geez, who wouldn't be in love with you?"

Anya's eyebrows raised as Andrew – aware too late of what he just said – felt his face flush as he returned to stirring the boiling Flan. He nearly crossed a line, and he knew it.

Truth be told, during his time as a Guest-age in the Summers home, he had begun to slowly develop a little crush on Xander's ex-fiancé. She was the only one in the house who actually made any effort to talk to him, was actually nice to him – when she wasn't slapping him in the head – and was probably the only Scooby member who didn't want to pummel him (Buffy), smack him (Dawn), belittle him (Xander), flay him (Willow), or outright eat him (Spike). And when the closest thing that he had to a friend happened to be a gorgeous blonde temptress with a scary, ex-demony past…well, contrary to what other might have thought, Andrew wasn't gay. And he did have eyes…

He expected her to make good on her threat to spill his delicious caramel concoction down his trousers and storm out of the kitchen at any second. Or at least, smack him upside his head again. It's what he typically expected, since he never really fit in with other people.

Imagine his surprise when instead, the slender blonde rewarded him with a warm smile. "You know, for an annoying, yammering virgin…you're not so bad, sometimes."

Her fist connected with his arm again…only this time, it was gentler. Friendly, even.

Ah, yes, the joys that Flan bring about, Andrew thought, as he savored the gentle sting where her fist landed.


Down in the training room of the hotel, the young Slayers-in-Training were going through their paces. Some were going through martial arts katas, while others practiced handling a stake (some more clumsily than others)…and Kennedy was overlooking them training with an irrepressible Chesire Cat grin on her face.

"C'mon, ladies, step it up a notch!" she barked to the sweating and grunting teenage girls, while Robin Wood observed her from off to the side. "We're training for battle here, not a bake sale!"

The smug comment earned her the stink-eye from Caridad and Rona, who were sparring on the far side of the room.

For a girl who was as green as the rest of the Potentials, Wood noted that she liked to take charge. He accredited that to what Buffy mentioned to him in the last few days – about Kennedy's wealthy, bordering-on-spoiled upbringing – but it didn't fully excuse her, in his eyes, from coming down so hard on the girls.

If there was one thing Bernard Crowley, the Watcher to his late and beloved mother, had engrained in Wood during his training, it was the value of keeping your allies close. He had no doubt that lesson was heavily influenced by his mother's murder – a lesson learned too late to save her from that bastard Spike, he groused bitterly. Kennedy's methods were the opposite of that. While Robin acknowledged the girl probably had the best intentions at heart, he knew that her hard-line tactics and strangely superior attitude – especially considering the girl had yet to do anything impressive – were a danger to the morale of these girls, who already had enough to deal with just being awkward teenagers, led alone being expected to turn into soldiers in a very limited time frame.

This was something that he would need to handle carefully. Guide Kennedy along without seeming like he was taking command. She was, after all, a teenager, and like any other teen worth their salt, she would likely bristle at anyone telling her what to do.

Fortunately, his day job made him somewhat of an expert in that area.

He was disrupted from his musings when he observed Caridad's rather unimpressive kick, which Rona blocked unconvincingly.

"Caridad," he called to the pretty Latina Potential as he moved closer to the pair. "Try leading with your weight in your stance. It should give your kick a little extra…well, kick."

Caridad nodded, shifted, kicked…and knocked Rona on her ass.

"Woah, nice!" Caridad smiled at the principal, impressed with the result.

On the ground, Rona groaned in pain as she glared up at Wood. "Yeah, real nice, teaching her to kick my ass."

Robin smiled ruefully as he picked up the young black potential from the floor. "Well, turnabout is fair play, I suppose. Caridad, try that one again."

Off Caridad's mischievous grin, Rona gaped in disbelief at Wood. "Are you for real?"

"Yup. Only this time, Rona, when she kicks, I want you to side-step to the left and use your left hand to strike the outside of Caridad's leg to the right."

Caridad waited, and then executed a perfect copy of her last kick. But this time, Rona neatly sidestepped her attack, then pushed her partner's leg aside. Caught off guard, Caridad found herself wobbling, off-balance, which caused Rona to instinctively lash out and return the earlier favor by introducing Caridad to the floor.

"Ha!" Rona triumphantly crowed. "See that, Cari? That's offense and defense."

The floored Potential grumbled. "Yeah, yeah, what'chu want, a medal?"

Wood chuckled as he helped Caridad up. "See that? Now both of you have something the other needs. Caridad, you can throw some mean kicks, and Rona can block solidly. But neither one alone is going to get either of you through a fight in one piece." He placed his hands on both of their shoulders, bringing the girls closer to him. "But together? I wouldn't want to be the vamp on the opposite side of that ass-whoopin'."

Rona frowned, still lost. "Yeah, but, what's the point? Neither one of us knows how to do both."

"Yeah," Caridad nodded.

"That's why you two have to stick together," he sagely replied. "The calling you girls have says you have to stick it out alone. But the times are changing. You've got to learn to change with them. Stick with each other. Learn from each other. Train with each other. Because next to yourselves, the best asset you've got…is each other."

Off his pearls of wisdom, Rona and Caridad looked at each other, a wordless bond extending between them. They were a part of something much bigger now. An ageless sisterhood that went back thousands of years. And that was a bond they and their fellow sister Potentials had which transcended any differences they might have.

"Okay," Robin gently smiled, an odd juxtaposition to his next words. "Now, beat the hell out of each other."

Chuckling, Caridad and Rona went right back to sparring.

"So, what do you suppose is going on, up there?" Caridad asked, between kicks.

"Hell if I knew", Rona shrugged, irritated. "It's not like they tell us anything anymore. Not since we came here anyway."

"God, what are you two complaining about now?" Kennedy snapped as she closed in on the two girls. "If you guys would spend half the time training with the others as you do whining, maybe there's a better chance that you don't end up vamp bait."

"A little harsh on the girls, aren't you?" Robin pointed out.

"A little?" Caridad muttered.

After shooting the Latina potential a dirty look, Kennedy turned her hardened stare on the taller Robin. "Yeah, okay, so I'm a little tough. So what? Do you think the First or this other all-powerful what-chama-hooey is gonna care if we have hurt feelings or whatever?"

"Actually, they'd think the more, the merrier, but that's beside the point", Robin continued. "From what I hear, this hard-liner attitude you've got going is what lost you the training job in the first place."

"No, what lost me the job is that Buffy, in her all-knowing glory, decided to pick that trashy trick Faith as the new trainer", she spat, her blood boiling at the thought of her replacement. "Among her other great ideas, like putting us all under the same roof as her blood-sucking ex-boyfriend."

Robin scowled as Spike's face flashed in his mind's eye. He'd been itching to ram a stake through his heart for weeks, but he assured Buffy that he would not push it further after his failed attempt on the vampire's life in his garage. "Yeah, well…unfortunately, she's not budging on the Spike issue. And that, believe me, is after a whole deal of trying."

Kennedy shook her head. "Not him. The other guy. Angel."

Robin and the other girls exchanged a glance of worry and alarm.

"Say that again…?", Robin asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Off their surprised glances, Kennedy continued. "Oh, right. Buffy, the Slayer, the one in charge of protecting our lives, didn't bother to mention this, but…that guy, Angel, who owns this hotel and is supposed to be this big-time uber-hero that could help us? Turns out – surprise! – he's a vampire."

Rona took a step back, surprised. "No way…"

Caridad shook her head, wanting desperately to deny that possibility. "You're wrong….Buffy…she wouldn't do that."

Kennedy snorted derisively. "Sure, because it's not like she keeps a pet vampire hanging around the house all the time, right?"

Wood slowly walked up to the angry Potential. "Kennedy…who told you this?"

"Willow did" she replied, letting out a hollow laugh. "Oh…but hey, guess what, it gets even better."

Rona shook her head, still in shock over this new information. "Yeah, because it was so much fun finding out the first time."

Kennedy snorted. "Well, the fun just keeps on coming. It turns out that this same vampire, Angel…not only is he a vampire, but in the old days…he was a mega-evil one. A creep who called himself Angelus."

The name didn't register to either Caridad or Rona, both of whom shot Kennedy vacant stares.

However, Robin's eyes widened, his breath freezing in his throat. His voice was almost a whisper. "What?"

Kennedy noted his reaction, thankful that at least one person in the room knew the dangers that lay with that name. "I take it you've heard of him."

Oh, did Robin ever hear of him. "I grew up with a Watcher for most of my life, Kennedy. I doubt there's ever been a Slayer or Watcher that's never heard that name. Basic underworld ABC's."

"Wait, hold up…who's Angelus?" Rona asked.

"A vampire. One of the worst ever documented, maybe the worst." Robin started to pace, his mind flooding with both concern for the girls and anger for being kept in the dark on this. "I've read some of his stories from old Watcher's Journals; he was as evil as any demon or man that ever walked God's green."

A nervous Caridad started to rub her arms as a chill passed through her. "He's…really that bad?"

"Picture Ted Bundy, Ed Gein & Jeffrey Dahmer rolled into one, and if they had vampire super-speed & strength", Kennedy replied, painting a grim and deadly verbal image. "Only a hundred times worse."

Caridad and Rona exchanged startled looks with one another.

Kennedy could see the gears turning in Robin's head as he slowly paced a few steps from them, recalling what he read about the infamous vampire. "His cruelty is legendary. He put up quite a body count in his day. I'd share some of the stories I've read about him with you girls, but…you need to sleep for the battle ahead. Hearing them would definitely not do you any favors in that department."

"What, and knowing that we're sleeping with a mass-murdering vampire inside his giant freakin' hotel would?" Rona blurted out.

"Well, we've been living under the same roof with Spike for a while. And he doesn't seem so bad", Caridad pointed out, hesitantly.

Kennedy scoffed. "You mean 'William the Bloody' Spike? 'The Big Bad' Spike? The same Spike who I heard has been getting randomly homicidal-trigger-happy lately? Oh, yeah, that's a real comfort when I try to get a good night's sleep."

Robin scowled at the mention of his mother's killer. He didn't care to mention that the trigger issue with Spike was apparently no longer a concern – largely because the only way he would care about Spike was if his hand was thrusting a wooden shaft into his chest. Besides, he had more pressing issues to tend to now if this Angel really was the infamous Scourge of Europe.

Rona was fuming. "I can't believe this. It was bad enough worrying about one crazy vampire, but now two? Living under the same roof with us? I came here for protection, and instead I get this?"

"Yeah, and guess what else", Kennedy chimed in.

"Because the first two bombshells weren't enough", Rona muttered.

Kennedy turned and scowled at her, before resuming her blows to Buffy's credibility. "It turns out that our Big Kahuna, the great Buffy, was actually dating Count Stalkula for a while. A real hot & heavy thing, from what I heard."

A confused Caridad frowned. "But…wasn't she involved with Spike?"

"Who knows? A girl that spends that much time in the dark, guess it was a matter of time before she started getting goo-goo eyes for the monsters she's supposed to be killing," a disdainful Kennedy snorted. "Hell, for all we know she probably drunk Clem under the table a few times."

Rona grimaced. "Is that what's going to happen to me? I mean, I don't think I want to be dating vamps, just dusting them."

Robin cleared his throat loudly. His time handling teenagers as a high school principal taught him that young people, while sometimes well-meaning, had an attention span that made a fruit fly's seem envious. "I think we're losing focus here. I think our main concern should be the fact that possibly the most dangerous vampire in history is playing host to us."

Kennedy sighed. "Well, apparently, we've got some wiggle room. Willow says that Kolchak up there has a soul. It's some kind of curse or something .So the freak's on a tight leash, unless something sets him off and he loses the soul. If that happens, we're dog meat."

"But what sets it off?" Rona asked.

"According to Willow?" Kennedy looked around to see if she had their undivided attention, both out of practicality and ego. "One tiny little moment of perfect happiness."

Caridad frowned again. "That's a little vague, isn't it?"

Rona nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I mean, that could be anything, right?"

"Yeah," the Latina potential replied. "It could be a sex thing, like if he hooks up with Buffy."

"It could be eating a Twix bar," exclaimed Rona.

"Do vampires eat Twix bars?," a curious Caridad wondered aloud.

"Guys, this is serious!", Kennedy snapped, incensed by their strange ability to go off-tangent. "We've got the end of the world on the horizon, two powerful Big Bads to deal with, and one of the players on our side of the board could easily start knocking us down one-by-one!"

"Look, guys" Wood tried to regain some order. "Let's just calm down for a second. We don't know any of this for a fact yet."

Kennedy began to protest. "But-"

"Jumping to conclusions at this point in the game is just going to get us all killed," Robin replied, with more authority in his voice. "I'll look into it and see if there's truth to any of this."

"And what if there is?" Kennedy asked.

Robin frowned pensively as his eyes landed on a stake left carelessly discarded on a nearby table. "Then can I count on you for backup, Kennedy?"

His actions did not go unnoticed as a dangerous gleam twinkled in Kennedy's eyes. "Oh, hell yes."


The black GTX's engine roared with all the might that American custom-made horse- powered fury could muster as Angel zipped down the streets at breakneck speed, Buffy clinging for dear life at the passenger side.

"You know", Buffy said, as she braced herself on the dashboard. "On the list of things that attracted me to you…your driving skills? Not one of them."

Angel's hands tightened around the steering wheel as his eyes stared straight ahead at the blur of concrete and asphalt the convertible was treading. "Sorry, but when it comes to an apocalypse, I can't actually afford to be doing my Miss Daisy imitation, can I?"

Buffy's eyes scrunched in confusion. "Who's Miss Daisy?"

Her sensitive ears picked up the vampire's low, disheartened grumble beneath his breath. "Okay. Now I really feel old."

Buffy stifled the urge to giggle. Even after all this time, she still had a hard time remembering how old, truly old, Angel really was. An ancient soul trapped in a young (and gorgeous) man's body. No wonder he had such a hard time understanding the younger generation references like the Beavis and Butthead analogy she used earlier.

Angel sniffed the air for clues as he continued to search for clues on trailing the teens.

"Any luck with the bloodhound act?" Buffy asked as she observed him doing the scenty-smelly thing he always did when they were together.

"Nothing," he ground out in frustration. "Which means they probably hit the sewers."

"Guessing that's your boy's handiwork?" Buffy ventured.

The vampire grimly nodded. "Connor's smarter than you'd imagine. He must have figured I'd be able to trace his scent above ground. That's why I'm not getting any scent yet. Not Dawn's raspberry lipgloss, not the fibers on Connor's shirt, or Cordy's lavender cream rinse…"

"Lavender?" Buffy wondered aloud, another jealous spike rising inside her at realizing her ex-boyfriend's familiarity with her once-frenemy's hair scent.

"Yeah, it's her favorite," he absently added.

"And you would know this…how?" she asked, straining to sound innocent and not at all like a jealous ex.

"Well, gee, it's not like I've been smelling it on her every day for the last three years," he sarcastically replied.

"Wow, driving while snarking. Impressive multi-tasking you picked up here in Tinseltown," she tartly retorted.

"Buffy, do you mind? I'm trying to concentrate here," he sternly replied.

The blonde Slayer held up her hands in defense. "Fine, fine, sorry. Go."

The silence stretched between them for a few uncomfortable moments.

"So, um, about this thing with Cordelia…"

She saw Angel's jaw visibly tense, the muscles near his jaw line flex in and out.

"When you said she meant, um, 'more than that'…exactly how much more are we talking here?"

Angel couldn't help but to groan. Of all the times to get into that conversation – which he was dreading worse than karaoke night at Caritas – this was definitely not the best time. "Buffy…"

"No, no, you're right," she sighed unhappily. "I'm sorry. You…you're right. This isn't the time. We have more important things to…worry about. World to save. Kids to rescue. Sacred duties…that need to be…upheld. Vows we've been…sworn to…uphold. And…promises…promises we need to…did I already mention 'uphold'?"

She mentally began to slap herself silly. Rambling on like an idiot was definitely not the best way to make her former honey swoon. But this Angel-Cordelia thing was really getting under her skin. She always figured the two would become closer after all their years fighting alongside each other. But just how close did the former cheerleader and her lover – ex-lover! EX! she chided herself – really become over time?

Angel's lips tightened tensely. "Oh, good."

Buffy frowned. "What?"

"Vampires."

With sudden abandon, the convertible swerved into an impossibly hard right, forcing Buffy to cling for dear life to the dashboard as the sound of tires screeching echoing around their ears as the car came to a sudden dead stop. Just to the right of them, a gang of vampires, 6 of them by Buffy's count, were trying to make a late-night snack out of a 24-7 convenience store owner and his wife within their own shop.

"This is SO not happening right now", Buffy gritted her teeth.

"Yeah, rude, aren't they?" Angel sighed in annoyance, watching the frustration pour from Buffy's pretty face. Although secretly, he had never been happier to see his wretched undead brethren in his overlong life as opposed to keeping up this uncomfortable conversation with his old flame. "Let's go tell them that."

The vampires were so busy uprooting the store, turning over the snack bins and holding their victims at bay that they didn't even notice the two very powerful, very pissed off warriors standing just outside the trashed store window.

"Let me guess", Buffy loudly crowed, drawing the wild-eyed stares of every bloodsucker in the store. "You're trying to rack up points in your community clean-up service, but, darn, all the parks were already cleaned out, so you tried top make a short cut by making a big mess, then cleaning it up."

"Yeah", one of the vampires hissed in reply. "We're about to clean up, all right."

"Sorry, guys", Angel shrugged. "You break it—"

His hand jutted out in the air as one fledgling vamp foolishly tried to leap at Angel, only to find himself impaled on the stake that suddenly jutted out from under his wrist, turning to dust one second later.

"…You buy it."

"Holy crap! It's Angel!", one of them cried out. By now, Angel's M.O. had become the stuff of legend around the L.A. streets. A mysterious man, dressed in black from head to toe, a lone warrior who appeared out of nowhere to wreak havoc upon the demon populace of L.A.'s nightlife.

"And I brought a pal", he smirked, motioning to Buffy. "Fellas, give a big L.A. welcome to my good friend Buffy Summers."

No sooner did he say that when Buffy's hand shot out and produced a stake.

"Did he happen to mention that I'm a Vampire Slayer?" Buffy coyly asked.

For any self-respecting vampire, those two words meant one thing – death.

"Slayer!" one of the remaining four vampires shouted before they swarmed on the two heroes.

Angel grimly chuckled to himself as he and the Slayer went to work. He watched Buffy throw herself with zealous abandon into the fight. Even after all this time, she was still as good as he remembered her to be. No, better, actually. When she was younger, her moves were powerful, but unfocused. She was good, but sorely in need of training. It was evident that years of training had paid off as the honed, lethal fighter unleashed her might upon the unfortunate vampires. Her eyes gleamed like a vine tiger measuring its prey as she unleashed a furious flurry of martial arts-kickboxing combinations on her dimwitted foes. He smiled to himself as he overheard her call out glibly, "Price check! Ass-whooping! Aisle 12!" while she hurled one unlucky vampire spinning headfirst into the coffee station just near the register. The vampire howled in agony as the scalding hot dark fluid poured freely upon him. Even on a good day, Buffy could still put a fierce hurting on the monster community. Catch her on a bad day, in a hurry, or if she was just plain pissed off? No infinite help from any amount of deities would be able to help you…case in point, one could ask the late Glory.

Buffy afforded herself a look over her shoulder as she placed a well-guided Savate kick to the head of one of the vampires. She was silently pleased that Angel's fighting style had seemed to improve. He was a gifted fighter from when she knew him in Sunnydale, but there was something bolder about his style. As good as he was back when they were together, it always seemed to Buffy that he was holding back. At first, it annoyed her because she believed it to be the super-protective complex he had for shielding her from danger. Then she considered that maybe it was because of the demon within him, the fear that if he allowed himself to enjoy the fight too much, to get more ruthless, more vicious, even it he was just killing demons, that he would lose his soul. It was part of that eternal struggle that Angel went through every day. But now, as she saw him tearing mercilessly into the two vampires he fought, allowing himself a smirk while cracking one of the demons with a brutal Shaolin Tiger Claw strike to the skull as he whirled around and crushed the ribs of the other one with a Muay Thai roundhouse kick, he seemed more at ease with himself. More willing to reconcile the fact that his demon was as much a part of him as his soul was. That gave him a new, deadly edge in battle that she had never seen before; and she liked it.

"Buffy! Time check!", Angel called out. As much of a needed break as this was, they didn't have anymore time to waste. They needed to get to Dawn and Connor.

Buffy winced. "Oh! Right." Tightening her grip on her stake, she dodged the clumsy swing of one of her opponents before plunging the stake in his chest. Without even looking, she deftly thrust it backwards into the heart of the other one, who tried to sneak up behind her, though not quietly enough for her well-trained ears. Both vampires stared dumbfounded at one another before they exploded into twin piles of dust, leaving Buffy grinning in satisfaction.

Angel followed soon after. His assailants exchanged a wordless glance, before charging him from both sides, simultaneously. Angel smirked. Ballgame, he thought to himself as he waited patiently for them to come within striking distance…

…and then his stake-thrusters shot out from under his sleeves. One double explosion of dust later, the Champion disdainfully brushed the ashy remnants of his defeated foes off his leather coat. The fight was over.

His eyes swept over Buffy, checking for injuries. "Well, that was…inconveniently timed."

"True", Buffy shrugged, her breathing quick and hurried despite her satisfied smile. "But still fun."

Angel couldn't help but to grin. "Getting a little slow there, eh, Buff? Time was I could remember you being able to dust six of them by yourself without breaking a sweat."

"Please", Buffy scoffed, a teasing smile on her face. "I still dusted mine faster than you did. Guess the big city's making you go soft, old man."

His deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. " 'Old man,' huh? Still spry enough to whip your butt, little girl."

A perfect golden eyebrow arched in suggestion on Buffy's face. "Ooh…sounds like a fun way to spend a Saturday night."

A wave of nostalgia hit them both, the minds of both Slayer and Champion drifting back to simpler times, nights of patrolling cemeteries, the rush of pounding on bad guys, the thrill of stolen kisses and dull ache of goodbyes at the end of the night. A more innocent time…

The dazed look that both former lovers shared suddenly shattered when a glass bottle of Snapple dangling precariously over the edge of the obliterated refrigerator behind them gave into gravity and shattered loudly all over the floor.

Buffy felt a blush coming on. "We really shouldn't be flirting like this when the kids need us to save them from getting killed, huh?"

"Point taken," Angel chuckled nervously. "Let's go."

As they quickly stepped through the discarded potato chip bags, shards of broken glass and the unpleasant mixture of soda and coffee seeping everywhere, the shop owner called out, "Bless you both, you saved – "

"Yeah, yeah," both warriors muttered as they went back to resume their chase.


People often wonder what goes through their mind in the moments of realizing you're going to die.

Not so for Dawn Summers. She'd been through that 'unique' experience more times than she could count. And the thoughts that ran through her mind were almost always the same: Oh, crap, I'm screwed.

Now, seeing Connor, knife dangling precariously over his head, pointy end aiming at her, the same Connor whom she had almost kissed, twice, within the last hour, only one thought ran through her mind:

Oh, crap I'm REALLY screwed.

She stared up almost hopelessly into the eyes of the young man, who stared back impassively at her.

Then, she saw it.

It was a subtle gesture, a fraction of a movement. But it was there. Connor's eyebrows tilted up slightly. Dawn's eyes questioned him for a moment, a brief moment, before understanding flooded her brain. She held up her bound hands, a protective gesture.

Then without warning, the weapon descended down upon her…

…and slashed the bonds binding her wrists. In one fluid motion, Connor spun on his heels and charged head on towards 'Cordelia', a panther springing on its prey.

A jolt of hope surged through Dawn as she watched Connor leap into action. Maybe she was right. After all, if Connor could go toe-to-toe with a Slayer like Buffy and hold his own, 'Cordelia' didn't stand an Andrew's chance in hell against him. Maybe this was going to be easier than she thought—

—and then, a red jolt of energy slammed Connor backwards, sprawling onto the hard concrete floor.

"Connor!" she screamed, as she crawled towards the boy, who lay coughing, clutching his ribs in agony.

A pair of cruel, hard hands clawed into her long brown hair and jerked her back, catching her off guard. She let out a terrified squeal as the icy blade of the meat cleaver pressed up against her neck.

'Cordelia' glared loathingly at Connor as she kept her left arm locked in an Anaconda-like grip on Dawn's neck, the other arm keeping the deadly weapon just above the jugular of the young girl.

"Nice try, Junior." Dawn could hear the older woman's snarl in her ear, feral and cruel, a sound completely alien from Cordelia's mouth. "You think I couldn't smell a set-up a mile away? What, the sister of one of my worst enemies just happens to fall into your lap and you don't expect my brain to scream 'Danger, Will Robinson'? Just how stupid do you think I am?"

He staggered to his feet, spitting out a trickle of blood from the wound on his lip. "Let her go", he growled, anger and fear flashing through his blue eyes.

"What, having a change of heart?", 'Cordelia' smiled sweetly, before tightening her grip on Dawn, the youngest Summers gasping for air. "Just a few seconds ago, you were all gung-ho for the sacrificial lamb shpeal."

"If you hurt her..."

'Cordelia' chuckled, a once-gentle sound now full of malice and spite. "Sweetie, you've got it all wrong. You hurt her. You hurt her the very second you put her in the middle of this. But then again, that's you, isn't it?" Her mouth twisted into a cruel smile. "Poor, headstrong, stupid Connor. Never listening to reason, never thinking, just acting on whatever thought flitters through your tiny little mind. God, no wonder every parent you had kept on passing the buck with you. I mean, raising a kid like you? Please, tie my tubes any day."

He knew what she was trying to do. More mind games. He had to tune her out, not let her in, like his mother said. Tell the harsh voices whispering in the back of his mind, taunting him with no mercy or empathy, to shut up. He promised Dawn that he would keep her safe. He would not go back on his promise now. "You're not going to take Dawn."

'Cordelia' cruelly smirked. "Oh, but I think I am. In fact, I'm thinking I'm going to waltz on out of here with little Dawnie here, and I'm thinking you're going to stay put."

Dawn's eyes widened as she heard the doppelganger's plan announced. It didn't take a genius to figure out that if 'Cordelia' was allowed to leave the factory with Dawn in tow, Vegas odds had her dead by sunrise, 2 to 1.

Connor's voice was a low growl. "Then you're even crazier than I've given you credit for."

"Well isn't that the lunatic calling the squirrel nuts?" His eyes met hers, "That's right, little boy. I am crazy. You don't know me, you don't know what I'm going to do next. I slaughtered thousands of men, women and children over a few short weeks, and I feel more upset about the hangnail I got yesterday. Little Dawn here?"

She dug her nails into the squirming teenager's neck, drawing a squeal from Dawn.

"Really not a priority. How 'bout it, lover? Think you can move fast enough on me before I make poor little Dawnie here into the world's largest Pez dispenser?"

Connor froze, fear and indecision locking his movements. He knew he could get to them before either female could bat an eyelash. But if he failed? Then Dawn would be dead. And, just like everything else that had gone wrong in the last few weeks, it would be all his fault. Again.

Dawn could see the hesitation in his eyes. He was fast, no doubt, but if he was anything like his dad, she knew Connor would not dare to put his speed to the test in this situation, where the only thing standing between the meat cleaver and Dawn's jugular was a hair's space and a quick, fatal slash of Fake Cordy's hand.

As Dawn's fist tightened trying to create much needed distance between her slender throat and the deadly blade, the cold feel of the vial under her sleeve suddenly drew her attention. In all the panic, she had all but forgotten about the ace literally up her sleeve. She knew the timing of this had to be just right, as it could mean the difference between being a hero, or a martyr.

"Connor?", Dawn rasped out, trying to catch his eyes.

Uncertainly, the boy quietly replied. "Yeah?"

"Do me a favor..?"

Though his eyes scrunched in confusion, he nodded.

"Oh, how sweet. Last requests?", 'Cordelia' sneered, keeping her eyes trained on Connor as her grip on Dawn held fast.

The girl gave him a weak smile. "Close your eyes."

Connor's eyes widened for a moment as he suddenly understood what the young girl meant.

A confused 'Cordelia' frowned. What…?

"FIAT LUX!" shouted Dawn, just as her free hand thrust a frail glass vial towards the floor.

Connor barely had time to raise his arms to shield his eyes as the shattering glass vial exploded into a brilliant flash of white hot sunlight. 'Cordelia' shrieked, completely unprepared as the blinding luminance of the sun-spell jolted her head backwards, her eyes flashing with disorienting patterns.

Dawn felt the temptress's grip on her throat loosen, and she took full advantage of that. Her elbow jerked upwards, connecting solidly with her captor's pixyish nose. 'Cordelia' yelped in pain, the simultaneous combination of blindness and stinging pain forcing her to release her grip on her captive.

The youngest Summers went sprawling as she hit the floor, hard, her eyes squinting through the lingering presence of Willow's light-show-in-a-bottle.

"Molly! Now!"

One second barely passed after the words left her mouth, when the whistling sound of an arrow could be heard.

Dawn could see, if only just barely, the meat cleaver knocked out of 'Cordelia's hand. It was a spectacular shot, considering the angling and the visual impairment that the sun-spell was no doubt causing Molly. And, in that moment, she knew she picked wisely in selecting Molly for this search-and-rescue gig.

"Hey!", she heard 'Cordelia' protest, no doubt feeling the absence of her weapon.

"Now, Connor!" shouted Dawn.

'Cordelia' barely had time to adjust her sight, or raise her hands in defense, when the outline of a tall body appeared suddenly in her blurred line of vision.

A stunned 'Cordelia' could only blurt out, "Oh, shi—"

—before one quick, hard punch from Connor connected with her skull, sending her careening to the floor, motionless.

The brilliant light had started to fade, and Connor quickly found himself at Dawn's side. "Are you alright?", he asked softly, his sharp eyes checking Dawn for any visible injuries.

"Okaley-dokely", Dawn groaned, grasping Connor's arms tightly as he helped her up.

She peered up at him, as he stared back at her, his grip firm yet gentle. "You really had me going there for a second."

Connor ruefully smiled. "Sorry 'bout that. I was just…playing to the part."

She smirked. "L.A…It figures."

"GUYS!", blurted a set of eager voices behind them. Startled, the teens whipped their heads around to see Molly and Vi, each sporting a pair of sunglasses, running out from behind their hiding spot.

"Okay, that was sooo cool!", Vi gushed.

"Are you guys okay?", Molly asked, tucking her sunglasses away in her jacket, her eyes filled with concern.

Dawn looked briefly at Connor, who gave her a sloppy half-smile, before turning her gaze to her friends. "Swell. Nice bonus for the Robin Hood antics, Moll."

Molly turned to Vi, smiling triumphantly. "Told you I don't miss."

Vi rolled her eyes. "We're never going to hear the end of this, are we?"

"Oh, not for a least a few weeks, I'm sure", Dawn said as her mouth turned up in an amused smirk. She took a look down at 'Cordelia', completely prone and defeated. "Wow…I can't believe it actually worked!"

Off the sudden surprised glances of her friends, she quickly amended her comment. "Not like I doubted that would!...or that it was supposed to, or…Hey! You guys? We did it!"

"Yeah", Connor mused, as his eyes swept over the scene, his paramour 'Cordelia' laying harmlessly on the floor, his newfound friends unharmed and Dawn…was there a word in his vocabulary that did justice to her? 'Amazing' and 'incredible' just didn't seem like enough. "Yeah, we did, didn't we?"

"It was quite a little adventure we had, wasn't it?", Molly grinned.

"Totally!", Vi beamed. "I mean, we dusted vamps, bagged the 'Big Bad', and lived to tell the tale? This is sooo going to blow Kennedy's bragging rights clear out of the water!"

Dawn chuckled. "Wait 'till we tell Buffy about this. She's gonna be so—"

An earth-shattering 'BOOM!' echoed through the factory as the steel door exploded from its hinges. A set of legs, one belonging to an angry blonde Slayer and another to a very unhappy dark-haired vampire, dangled briefly in the air as the heavy door was flung with the ease of a Frisbee across the length of the floor.

"Dawn!", Buffy's voice called out at the same time Angel shouted, "Connor!"

The eyes of both warriors rested incredulously on the stunned faces of the young teenage heroes, both groups staring silently in awe of each other.

"Uh…hi, guys", Dawn sheepishly squeaked out.

"Are you alright?", Angel asked, concern flooding his voice as they came closer to their charges, his keen eyes searching them for any signs of injury.

"We're good", Dawn sighed. Her smile suddenly brightened, gesturing grandly to the floor, where 'Cordelia' lay unconscious. "And, hey, lookie what we've got!"

"Cordy", Angel gasped softly, before quickly ducking to the sight of the body of his Seer. He took a look for any visible injuries. Whatever this thing mimicking the real Cordelia Chase might have done, it did not change the fact that somewhere in that body was his best friend.

Once again, that feeling of envy stabbed through Buffy as he saw how tenderly he touched the unconscious brunette. Almost immediately, she felt ashamed. Cordelia's soul was in mortal danger, and all she could think about was this sensation of insecurity that she hadn't been able to shake ever since Angel uttered four words – "She's more than that" – that have been nagging her relentlessly.

Angel's eyes stopped when he saw a bright red mark marring her delicate cheekbones. His eyes shot to Connor, knowing that only he, among this group, could have the power for such a blow.

"I…I held back as much as I could", Connor explained quietly, suddenly finding his father's glare more intimidating than normal. "But she had Dawn at knifepoint, and there wasn't time—"

"It's okay, Connor", Angel sighed, his gaze softening on his son. "You did what you had to."

Connor's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You mean you're not mad?"

"Speak for yourself", Buffy cut in, angry green orbs resting on the wiry boy. "I go through a lot of trouble to protect my sister from things exactly like this, and now I'm hearing that our resident Big Bad had her at knifepoint?"

Dawn quickly jumped to the boy's rescue. "It's wasn't Connor's fault, Buffy! It-it-it was my idea, really! I mean, I was just trying to help Cordy, and, well, they kinda volunteered to go along and make sure that, well, you know, that I didn't die or anything and we had this whole plan worked out, and it worked out great…well, except for that sleazy vampire gang we ran into under the sewers—" Off her sister's wide-eyed stare, Dawn quickly added, "But we fought them off and then we managed to find our way up here to Cordy, and that went perfectly…I mean, there was the whole knife-under-my-throat thing, but—"

"Please stop talking, before you give me a premature coronary!", Buffy exclaimed, her hands on her hips, reminding Dawn of the look Mom would give her whenever she poured too much syrup on her waffles when she was five years old. "So, you mean to tell me that you, Dawn Summers, of the all knowing age of 16, not only whipped up this crazy hare-brained scheme, but you endangered your friends, some of whom happen to Potential Slayers under my care, ran away from the hotel without giving anyone aside from poor Lorne's bruised face notification that you were going, ran into a gang of, hello, vampires, and nearly ended up having your throat slit by an evil doppelganger of our friend who just happens to be in cahoots with the most powerful force of evil the world has ever seen?"

Dawn shifted her gaze down to her sneakers. "We didn't get hurt, or anything."

The intensity in her older sister's eyes made her shrink even further. "The night's still young, L'il Sis. Very young."

"Sewer vamps", Angel echoed, his face lighting up in recognition. "But the only gang that nests between here and the hotel are Cage and his crew."

Buffy turned a quizzical look to Angel. "Who's Cage?"

"Vampire", Angel sneered in disgust, thinking of the irritating demon. "Annoying little pest, but his gang has made themselves quite a nuisance for the team and I in the past."

She turned her 'Mom-face' back to Dawn, but continued to talk to Angel. "Is he dangerous?"

"He was", Connor smirked. "Now he's just dust."

Angel stood up, facing his son with a scrutinizing gaze. "You took down Cage by yourselves?"

"Sure did", Connor nodded, an air of cockiness surrounding him. "Dawn and I took care of them."

A harsh "ahem" emanated from behind him, where an annoyed and glaring Molly and Vi stood, their gazes expectant.

"Uh…we all did", Connor hastily added. The Potentials exchanged pleased smiles.

He watched his father's face morph from strong parental disapproval to something akin to impressed, perhaps even proud.

"And we totally kicked demon ass!", Vi chimed in, her excitement bubbling over. "I even got to dust two of them!"

"I got one, too", Molly added, just as enthusiastic as her partner-in-crime. "And Connor was just amazing, with the fighting. And Dawnie really threw them for a loop when she told them that she was really Buffy, I mean you should 'ave seen the look on their faces when—"

"You impersonated me?" Buffy exclaimed, indignantly, as her gaze fixed back on her sister.

A meek "uh-huh" was Dawn's only reply.

"But if it helps, they were really scared when they heard your name", Vi added, hoping to be helpful in Dawn's plight.

The Slayer stared hard at the youngest Summers, who seemed to shrivel from her gaze. Dawn expected to hear the words "grounded forever", "so busted", or "house arrest" any moment, when her sister's next words surprised her:

"How scared were they?"

A small smile crept onto Dawn's face. "They power-freaked. They were going on and on about you killing Glory, staking the Master, beating up Angelus…you know, the classics. I never thought it was possible for dead guys to get even paler. I think one of the vamps actually wet himself."

Buffy let a pleased grin spread across her lips. "Well, who could blame them? I am pretty bad-ass."

Angel couldn't help but to chuckle. Off Buffy's frown, he quickly added, "Oh, yeah. Super-bad."

"A-a-and we did manage to beat you guys to the punch on Cordy", Dawn added, grinning faintly. Off Angel and Buffy's stares, she backpedaled. "Which is a good thing, because of the, uh, apocalypse..."

Buffy turned her eyes from Angel to 'Cordelia' and back to Dawn.

"Well, you did grab Fake Cordy", she nodded.

"Yes, we did", Dawn smiled.

"And it looks like you got out without a scratch", Buffy added, before ticking her eyes to the small trail of blood along Dawn's neck. "Figuratively speaking."

A nervous chuckle escaped Dawn. "So, we did good, right?"

Buffy gave a relenting smile. "Yeah, I guess you did."

I can't believe I'm actually going to get away with this! This is sooo cool! a giddy Dawn inwardly - and gleefully - shouted.

"So, I guess that means we're not—"

Buffy smiled brightly at her little sister. "Oh, no. You're sooo grounded."

Dawn's jaw dropped. "Grounded?"

Buffy nodded. "Into dust, grounded. Indefinitely, grounded. All the way through to China, grounded. So-grounded-they'll-have-to-invent-a-new-meaning-for-the-kind-of-grounded-you're-in-cuz-that's-how-grounded-you-are, grounded."

Dawn couldn't believe it. It just wasn't fair! If it wasn't for them, the gang wouldn't even have a chance to save Cordelia. They might have even stopped her from ending the world, for all they knew; they were heroes, damn it! Heroes don't get grounded, they get praised. Keys to the city, ticker-tape parades, the whole nine yards…or in her case, at least a raise in her allowance. But sent to her room?

She felt a whine coming on, and in a huge way. "But, Buffy—"

"Don't you 'But, Buffy' me, Kamikaze Girl", Buffy shook her head. "You've been grounded the moment you decided to take your pals on this little Crazy Capade. The rest is just details."

Vi shrugged. "Tough break, Dawn."

"But it could've been worse, mind you", Molly smiled sympathetically.

"Oh, don't think I've forgotten about you two", Buffy cast her eyes on the two suddenly very nervous Potentials. "I don't know about grounded, but it looks to me like you two just volunteered for kitchen duty for the next two weeks."

Molly and Vi gaped at their leader, stunned, before blurting out, "What? But—"

"Don't make me push it to a month", Buffy sternly warned, the look on her face clearly indicating that she meant business.

Off hearing Connor's snicker, Angel turned to his son, disapprovingly. "I wouldn't be laughing so hard if I were you, kiddo."

"You can't ground me", Connor scoffed, bristling at the notion of Angel taking any parental authority over him.

Angel smirked, knowingly. "Even if that was true, it doesn't change the fact that your mother would like to have a talk with you when we get back."

Connor's face suddenly fell. "Is she…is she mad?", he quietly asked.

Angel patted his son's shoulder, smiling. "And how."

Dawn stifled a laugh at the look on Connor's face, a look of worry creasing his boyishly handsome features. She could have sworn he was pouting.

Angel reached down and scooped up 'Cordelia' in his arms. Despite whatever was said earlier, Buffy's heart went out to him as he stared sadly at the body of his…of their friend. Buffy had been down this road more times than one person ever could, or should have been. Angel, Willow, Anya, even Faith…each of them hurt in different ways.

She walked towards him, their eyes locked in sadness. She placed her hand on his arm, felt the muscles tense beneath her touch.

"We'll get her back", Buffy assured him softly. "We will."

Angel nodded, his eyes less certain than his words. "I know."

"We'd better", Dawn piped up from behind them. She smirked. "Hate to think we got grounded for nothing."

A round of small smiles went up among the group as they headed wordlessly out of the factory, their friend in arms…

…unaware that from the rafters, the First Evil, in the form of Buffy Summers, watched.

And seethed.


To Be Continued…

A/N : Sorry, I had a big surprise ending, but it took me all weekend to write this, and I've got work early in the morning, so I'll have to save it for the next update.

Until then!