A/N : Haven't felt this inspired in a looooong time. Thanks to supernatural-fan 18, David Fishwick, dkwr07, Angellufy, jay martinez, angelplusbuffyequals4ever, teamtiva, vixen519, Dark Vizard447, ashes at midnight, and Ginevra Summers for their reviews. And by the way, HUGE thumbs up to TrendyVamp1991, teamtiva and Madje Knotts for their July reviews, as you guys forced me to get back on the old horse again and rediscover why I loved this story/genre.

And last but not least, welcome back, Imzadi! Glad to hear from you again after 7 years (this guy was the first one ever – out of 336 reviews - to review on this story when I started it in April 2003; Isn't that cool?)

But alas, my friend, I'm afraid I cannot abide by your request to add in Kate Lockley as a major character in the story. I never really liked her, and her character seemed fairly bland – can't really think of what to do with someone like that, aside from kill her. And she couldn't be a potential, because otherwise, she would have known about vampires before she met Angel instead of finding out about them after the fact (although if I have the time, I might have her make a quick – very quick – cameo or something.) But, if you, and a few other people, keep arguing your case, who knows, I might (no promises) change my mind. It worked with Lindsey…

Thanks for your suggestion to add in Lindsey, by the way, as I've got some big plans for that boy!

And keep your eyes peeled, folks, because a few other fan favorite characters (and not all of them good guys) are sure to be making a visit to Armageddon.

Well, that's it for this author's note, so sit back, relax and enjoy (and review!) the next chapter of Bring Me to Life which starts…right now!


Bring Me To Life: A BtVS/Angel Crossover Event

Part 15

Second Impressions


Hyperion Hotel

Now


It was a staring contest. Plain and simple.

Buffy and Angel staring in shock at Whistler. Whistler staring – and smirking – back at Buffy and Angel.

Oz staring at Willow, who returned his easy, yet loving gaze with a marveled, warm gaze in her sea-green eyes, neither of them concerned with the surprised stares of Buffy, Angel, Xander, Giles, and Anya or the amused smirks of Spike and Faith.

Lindsey staring longingly at Darla, who stared back in surprise at Lindsey…who was being given furious glares by Wesley and Angel, not to mention Gunn, Faith and Lorne.

True to fashion, (which could not be said of his attire) Whistler couldn't help but to inappropriately make light of the situation as he and his traveling partners stepped into the lobby. "Hey, yo, did we barge into something important or what?"

Buffy was the first to start with the aggressive line of questions. "Whistler, what the hell are you doing here, and – Oz?"

Taking notice of his former Scooby Teammate and de-facto leader, the werewolf gave his usual easy going grin…

"Buffy. Long time."

…and his usual economic approach to words.

"No see," the blonde Slayer replied, before a small grin came over her face. "Still…good to have you back."

Oz nodded in kind, before his eyes met Angel's, offering the dark-haired vampire the same friendly – if not small – smile. "Angel."

The Champion reciprocated with a similar smile. "Oz."

Fred, feeling once again out of the loop of the complicated pasts of her friends, looked at Lorne. "Who's Oz? Or…any of these guys, actually?"

"Never met two of 'em, Peach Pie, but I've seen them in Angel's and Willow's auras when Caritas was less charred. The little blonde guy, Oz – I saw him in Strawberry Red's aura – is a werewolf, her old beau and an old member of the Scoobies, if I remember the readings correctly," Lorne recalled. "The guy who's a walking fashion apocalypse, from Angel's aura, is Whistler, a demon guide – probably with the PTB's – that helped set Angel on the path to becoming a Champion. And the other guy…" his eyes narrowed at Lindsey. "…is one of Wolfram & Hart's boys."

The pretty Texan genius gasped. "Wolfram & Hart? As in the evil law firm always trying to kill us, Wolfram & Hart?"

"That be they," Lorne quietly replied. "Lindsey, over there, Angel's Numero Uno nemesis at W&H for a while, was their Golden Boy, a lawyer they handpicked to head up their Special Projects division…until he discovered that part of the promotion involved implanting him with an evil hand to replace the one Nuestro Capitan Angel cut off…" He waved off Fred's confused glance as he continued, "Long story. Bottom line is, he quit Wolfram & Hart, which got Lilah promoted instead, and he went back to his brother's home in Iowa to go on some spiritual flagellation or something…which he's apparently done with since he's back here."

Ignoring them, Willow, Xander, Giles, and Anya stepped to the forefront to greet their long lost compatriot.

Oddlyy enough, Xander was the one to reach him first. "Oz! Buddy," he smiled in his off-color Xander-esque manner. "Lookin' good! Guys, check it out, Wolf Man's back and on the attack…well, hopefully not the last part...unless you're willing to attack Spike, that is."

The platinum vampire rolled his eyes at Xander's swipe, wondering why he never just ate the whelp when he had the chance years ago.

"Hopefully, no attacking unless it's bad guys," Oz replied.

"Again, I say," Xander smirked, his eyes ticking to Spike, who, in turn, saluted him…using only his middle finger.

A warmly smiling Giles was next. "Oz. I-it's wonderful to see you again. Of course."

"Of course," Oz nodded, before adding, "Uh, that it's good to see you, too, Giles."

Anya walked up, offering a bright, "Hello! Um, you probably don't remember me, but I'm Anya. Um, I used to be a brunette…and um, date Xander – which I don't anymore! Or have a brunette's hair color…you're the cute, albeit somewhat small wolf boy, right?"

"Anya," the quiet musician nodded yet again, "And, I'm just going by Oz, now."

And finally…Willow.

As she stepped closer until they were face to face, time, the air and everything else seemed to stop around the former lovers as the sea-green eyes of the redheaded Wicca met the ocean blue eyes of the werewolf. Being so close, after so long, sent a tornado of memories whirling in each other's minds. Thoughts of sweet kisses, late nights in his van…and monkey animal crackers.

Willow, stunned beyond words, took in the sight of her ex-boyfriend. The blonde spiky hair she came to know and love on him was still there, as was his laid back style of clothes, an orange shirt over a grey Jim Morrison T-shirt and jeans. And, of course, he was still totally cute as ever. But there was something different in those reserved, yet intense eyes. It was like he'd found some great peace…like he was somehow at peace with the wolf inside – something she'd never seen in him before. And despite her currently lesbian status, she couldn't help but to feel the old spark of attraction between them begin to fan again into a small, but growing flame…

Shaking herself from her musings, Willow could only manage a quiet, but breathy, "Hey, you."

Oz swallowed, even more tongue-tied then usual at the moment, as he drunk in the sight of his beloved redhead. Her hair had grown slightly past her shoulders, framing her pretty face perfectly. And her green eyes still sparkled, still made him feel like he was walking on air when she looked at her…but he could see other things behind those beautiful jade depths…a gaze that spoke of great power, great strength, and also great pain and great loss…gone was the girl he once saw in those eyes, and before him stood a strong young woman…a goddess.

"Hey, yourself," he greeted simply, but with a gentleness that only Willow could bring out of him.

Tentatively, he reached out and brushed her bright reddish-orange hair back from her face, sending an involuntary shiver across the witch's skin just under her ear. His fingers deftly brought a strand of her hair up for his eyes to behold.

"Let your hair grow longer, huh?"

Willow fidgeted, suddenly felt a shy feeling she hadn't truly felt since before Sunnydale High version 1.0 was turned into a charred burial ground for the world's largest demon snake. "Yeah. You, um…you like?"

A beat…followed by a sweet half-smile. "Oh, I like. I more than like."

The beaming smile she rewarded him with made his heart thump with excitement. Once again…one of those things only one person on Earth – a scarlet witch from Sunnydale –

had ever made him feel.

Buffy exchanged knowing smiles with Angel. Both warriors had always known of the deep bond between Oz and Willow; they couldn't ignore the parallels between their own relationships. Two powerful women falling almost instantly for two men with a dangerous, deadly secret held under the confines of their skin – secrets that forced them apart, but never for too long.

Silently, Buffy had always figured the two would find their way back to each other at some point in their lives, even when Tara – the only other person who boasted a similar bond with Willow – was still alive. Besides, Buffy thought wryly, Oz is 10 times better than Kennedy. Personally, Angel always liked Oz; he was one of the few people who could truly relate to Angel's daily struggle to control the raging beast within, and couldn't think of a better person to love the little redhead, a dear friend of his, as she deserved.

After exchanging brief, but respectful nods with Wesley – who Oz noted had changed considerably, on the outside, anyway – the werewolf's keen eyes suddenly ticked to the base of the staircase, where Faith and Spike sat.

Oz raised an eyebrow – his version of a surprised face – at the sight of two of the Scooby Gang's deadliest foes standing casually about. "Faith. Spike."

"Oz," Faith smirked, as she held up her hand. "Dude, you have to get a grip. These hellos between us are always way too emotional for me. It's embarrassing."

"Wolfy Boy! Glad you joined the party, pull up a chair and join in, why don't cha, mate? We were just about to roast ourselves a few weenies," Spike glibly greeted, his eyes wandering towards the imprisoned – and glaring – Skip and the bound – and annoyed – 'Cordelia.'

Off her ex-boyfriend's questioning glance, Willow sighed. "It's a long story."

"We've reformed," both Faith and Spike answered in tandem.

"Ok, so, not that long," the witch sheepishly shrugged.

After a moment, Oz simply gave a non-committal, yet somehow understanding, "Hmm."

"Okay, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, Whistler, I resubmit my question," Buffy asked, with a suspicious look on her face. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"And why the hell did you bring that – " an immediately defensive Angel pointed to Lindsey. " – into my home?"

"Aww, I missed you, too, Angel," drawled the ex-lawyer at his longtime adversary.

"I won't," the vampire retorted…just before he moved with preternatural speed, closing the gap between himself and Lindsey before grabbing the smugly grinning man by the lapels of his denim jacket.

"What part of 'Bon Voyage. Don't come back' were you not clear on the last time I saw you?" Angel menaced the former legal prodigy.

Lindsey offered the dark-haired vampire a smirk infuriating enough to give Spike a run for his money. "Probably shouldn't have used French, then, eh, sport? Can't go wrong with good ol' fashioned American English."

"Oh, I've got some English for you, squirt – Don't let my foot kick you in the ass on your way the hell outta here," Angel sneered as he hauled him towards the entrance – only to be blocked by Whistler.

"Whoa, slow it down a minute, Road House! Tex here's with me."

Angel turned his hardened eyes towards the native New York demon, not relenting his grip on Lindsey even by an inch. "Why?"

Whistler held his hands up defensively. "Hey, I've just got my marching orders, alright? Don't shoot the messenger."

Buffy glared intently at the cryptic – and annoying – Whistler. "How about I just pound the messenger into a bloody, ugly purple stain unless he starts making with the answer portion of the Q & A?"

Whistler offered the little blonde a bemused smirk. "Hey, look at this. Blondie's still got it in the threatening imagery department. Although, I liked the last one you told me when you threatened to 'pull out my ribcage and wear it as a hat' a lot better."

"Careful what you wish for, Shorty," Buffy returned with a sweet smile only she could make ominous.

Lindsey realized who this blonde, pretty – and violence-prone – girl was. It had to be Buffy Summers. "Geez, Angel, your ex-girl always this hostile?"

The Champion held up a larger fistful of Lindsey's jacket for that remark. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about your not-so-ex archenemy about to snap you in half if you don't get the hell out of here."

Annoyed, Lindsey slapped Angel's hands off his jacket. "Hey, quit with the third degree, Nick Knight. I'm not exactly doing backflips about seeing you again, either, okay?"

"That makes two of us," Angel retorted.

"That makes three of us," Faith deadpanned as she stepped closer to the action, her cold doe eyes zeroed in on Lindsey.

"Four," Gunn angrily glowered, as he backed up Faith.

"And baby makes five," Lorne said as he set wary ruby-red eyes on one of his most frequent ex-patrons at Caritas.

Oz calmly took in the scene before him. "Okay, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say Lindsey's not too popular round these parts."

Spike frowned. "Faith, you know this urban cowboy wannabe?"

"Know him?" the dark-haired Slayer scoffed. "This…jackass once hired me for a hit on Angel, and when the job went south, he hired some Predator-looking demon to take me out. Just to cover his own ass, along with some other legal eagle loser, and that bitch Lilah."

Wesley, whose cold blue eyes had barely left Lindsey since his arrival, swallowed hard at the mention of his dead ex-paramour's name.

Surprised, Lindsey eyed Faith questioningly. "Faith. Didn't expect to see you again…well, at least not for another 25 years-to-life."

"W-wait, this guy hired you to kill Angel?" a surprised Willow asked.

A regretful look crossed Faith's attractive countenance. "After the whole Buffy body-switch thing. Not really a scrapbook moment for me, Red. I was all kinds of messed up back then." She looked to Angel, hopefully. "I know he's human, Angel, but he is evil, so, does it count as a strike against me if I kill him now?"

"Yes," both Buffy and Angel replied.

A disappointed Faith sighed. "Wet blankets."

Buffy turned to Angel, confused about his hostility towards the (very hottie-like) stranger in their midst. "Angel, what's going on? Who is this guy?"

"Lindsey McDonald," Wesley calmly, but forcefully cut in, as he hovered closer to the action. "A former lawyer at Wolfram & Hart who has made things quite…difficult for us here at Angel Investigations through the years."

Buffy drew back in surprise. "Woah, back up. Wolfram & Hart? As in…" She looked to Angel for confirmation. Off his nod, she turned hard, green slits towards Lindsey.

Perplexed, Andrew frowned. "What's Wolfram & Hart?"

"They're a law firm, which is actually a front for a cabal of incredibly powerful demons involved in numerous reprehensible operations throughout this and many other dimensions," Giles replied, his eyes narrowing warily towards the denim-clad stranger.

"The Wolf, Ram and Hart? Wow, talk about 'yikes!'" Anya cringed, although she stared somewhat enamored with the attractive man accompanying Oz and the smaller demon with the tacky wardrobe. She had been well aware of the pandimensional law firm's deadly reputation over the last 1,000 years. Heck, D'Hoffryn himself was one of their clients.

"Wait, so evil law firm exists in other dimensions? Wow, talk about your aggressive expansion," Xander quipped.

Lindsey regarded the icy Wesley – whose confident, eerily controlled presence was a far cry from the klutzy demonologist he met two years ago – with amused eyes. "Woah! Wesley? When did you find your inner stubble?"

"Glad to see you find me amusing," Wesley replied, his disdain for the ex-lawyer burning plainly in his piercing blue depths. "Consider it a parting gift when we throw you back out the way you came – headfirst."

Connor suddenly took a very defensive position, narrowing his eyes at the stranger. "He worked for Wolfram & Hart?"

Lindsey raised his eyebrows as he regarded the boy. The cold scowl, the blue eyes…there was no doubt in his mind about who this was. "Connor, right?"

"What's it to you?" the boy sneered.

Lindsey flashed that cocky grin again. "Damn, Angel, that boy's even got your sneer downpat. I guess all that crap about trees and apples wasn't so farfetched, huh?"

Connor felt his lips tighten at the comparison to his father – still a subject of confusion to the boy. This guy had been here barely five minutes and already Connor couldn't stand him. Couple that with his rotten mood over what happened with Dawn just a few minutes ago, and he wanted to skin this piece of Sluck muck alive.

"I'll shove that tree right up your ass and through your nose if you so much as look at my son again, Lindsey," Angel growled, his stony brown eyes validating that claim.

Running a hand through his lengthy brown hair, Lindsey was starting to get rapidly agitated. "Look, I get it," he tersely addressed the angry heroes staring him down. "None of us are exactly on each other's Christmas Party lists, but I didn't come down here for the chuckles of seeing the looks on your faces, if that's what you're wondering."

"Then why did you come?"

His head whipped around to find the owner of that soft, angelic voice.

Darla.

Lindsey swallowed as his throat suddenly became dry. There she was, a vision in an off-white cardigan and a lacy, soft pink dress that looked treacherously close to a nightgown. Alive and as beautiful as he remembered her to be.

He did not remember telling his legs to walk. He simply started moving automatically to Darla, as instinctually as a moth flew towards a candle's flame.

"For you."

For a moment, Lindsey forgot where he was. Nothing else mattered to him, except the blue-eyed, golden haired beauty before him. After traveling more than 2,000 miles – 1,000 of them in a rocket-powered van with an infuriating demon messenger and a laconic werewolf – the object of his desire was only a few feet from him.

"I-I had to see it for myself. To see…you…for myself."

Now, they were face-to-face. He was close enough to reach out and touch her. Close enough to smell that intoxicating Jasmine scent he had imprinted into his mind. He felt his breath quicken as he found himself getting lost in her pale blue orbs that had always held him in such sway, that could order him to leap into the heart of a volcano and have him gladly swim in fire.

Darla stared at the handsome ex-lawyer, her face an indecipherable mask, her voice breathy, yet seductive. Entrancing.

"Lindsey."

He felt shivers down his spine at the way she said his name.

He felt his voice – normally so strong, so confident – croak softly as her name escaped his lips, his hand tentatively reaching up towards her face.

"Darla…"

Wesley felt his scowl grow rigid enough to crush rocks, feeling a – surprising – wave of jealousy rising in his chest. And for a moment, just for looking at Darla like that, he had to fight every impulse to stalk over there and bash Lindsey's face in.

Turns out, he didn't have to, as Darla beat him to the punch – literally – suddenly hauling back and lashing out with a stinging right hook that connected with Lindsey's jawline.

Surprised, Lindsey let out a yelp of pain as he lost his balance and fell to the floor. Clutching his injured jaw, he could only stare in bewilderment into the former vampire's suddenly frigid blue eyes.

"You shouldn't have come here," Darla said, the frosty edge in her voice surpassed only by the glacial stare of those light blue eyes. "Now, please…get out."

With a final glare, she suddenly turned on her heels and walked back into Angel's office, slamming the doors behind her.

A pin could have been heard dropping in the lobby as everyone either stood or sat in stunned silence.

An amused Spike let out a derisive chuckle. "Ooh! Didn't see that coming."

Shaking off the feeling of dejection and stunned heartache, Lindsey scrambled to his feet and moved towards the doors. "Darla…Darla, please, wait, just listen for a sec –"

With a sudden swiftness that Angel could have appreciated, Wesley cut off Lindsey's path.

Not a trace of pity could be seen in the Englishman's blue eyes. "I think the lady made it clear she doesn't want to talk to you."

"And I think you better get the hell outta my way, Stubble Boy," an angered and determined Lindsey spat.

Wesley, coolly regarding the man, was unimpressed. "Think you can make me?"

An obvious challenge – and one that Lindsey couldn't resist. "Not think. Know."

Without warning, Lindsey reached up and tried to grab hold of Wesley's brown leather jacket. But Wesley's new training kicked in as he smoothly, quickly raised both hands between his attacker's arms to part them away from him, then shooting out a hard left palm, striking Lindsey between the chest and pushing him backwards, creating distance between the two.

Lindsey's Irish temper kicked in as he began to lead in with his left, his right hand balled tightly in a fist that desperately wanted to connect to Wesley's face –

– only to be frozen in his tracks when a slim, but sharp blade suddenly extended from under Wesley's right arm, swinging upwards in a deadly arc and stopping just short of Lindsey's jugular.

Wesley gave another level stare towards his opponent, a deadly gleam in his eye. "If I were you, I wouldn't try that again."

Despite the cool blade resting against his throat, Lindsey gave the other man a quiet, yet mocking chuckle. "See, that's the thing, Wes, Ol' Boy – you're not me. Because us Midwestern folk wouldn't be caught dead bringing a knife – "

In a flash, a click-clack sound was followed by Lindsey's right hand jerking up with a weapon of his own – a 9-mm semiautomatic pistol, aimed squarely at Wesley's face.

"…to a gunfight," Lindsey finished with a slick smile.

Yet Wesley remained calm. "Thanks for the tip."

With that, he twisted his left wrist, and out shot a semiautomatic gun of his own, bringing it right between Lindsey's forehead.

"We British do pride ourselves on adaptation," he grimly quipped, a contrast to the humorless expression on his rugged features.

Lindsey gave a begrudged look of respect. "Huh. Well, look who came to play."

No sooner had he said that when another icy blade propped against his neck – one coming from a large Irish broadsword held by a glaring Angel.

"I think we're done playing, Lindsey," he said, his voice very much an extension of his sword – smooth, yet lethal. "You heard Darla. Get out."

"No can do, Angel," Whistler said as he approached the former Scourge of Europe from behind. "Lindsey stays."

"Gotta disagree with you, there, Whistler," Angel growled, his blade holding still against his former enemy's throat.

"This ain't a debate, Kull," the smaller demon insisted. "He's supposed to be here."

Angel wasn't budging. "Why?"

An irritated Buffy ground her teeth in frustration. "Whistler, we don't have a lot of time here, so it's time for you to play Give or Take – where either you give us answers, or I start taking your body parts with a rusty knife."

"Look, if everybody just puts away their toys for a second – and quit with the evisceration promises – I can explain everything," Whistler said, trying to rein in his patience.

Reluctantly, all three men lowered their weapons.

At the tension in the room, 'Cordelia' let out a mordant snort. "Nice job, Lindsey. And here they were, almost getting back on the same page. Way to play spoiler."

Lindsey didn't even glance at her, his hard eyes trained on Wesley. "You have no idea, you overgrown leech. And nobody was talking to you."

Wesley's eyes narrowed at one word his foe said. "'Leech?'"

"Oh, fudge," Skip groaned, as he now realized what they were here to do.

Buffy was quick to put two and two together. "Wait a minute…you know what she is?"

"And where she came from," Lindsey replied.

"And more importantly, what it really wants," Whistler added, turning to Angel. "So…he stays, right?"

"Pfft! Yeah, right!" 'Cordelia' scoffed, realizing she had to do something before Lindsey and that scruffy little messenger spilled the beans and ruined everything. "Like Angel's going to let an ex-flunkie from Wolfram and Hart – a guy who had his apartment/business office blown up, his friends targeted and once had him tazered – into his home? Angel might be a little slow on the draw, but even he's not that stupid…"…even Buffy, brainiac of the Valley Girl Braindead Society that she is, wouldn't be that stupid."

Both Slayer and Champion glared at the possessed Seer for that comment.

Turning back to Whistler, Angel let out a breathless sigh. True, he still had issues with Lindsey, but if they had answers to their questions…well, it wouldn't be the first time in his immortal life that he made a bargain with someone he hated to get something he wanted.

"Fine," the vampire deadpanned. "He stays. But he gets out of line, I think for a second that he'll betray our friends, or God help him, if he's somehow behind all this, I'm going to feed him his own liver."

Lindsey was getting downright frustrated. How many times was he supposed to say that he was trying to help here? "Relax, Hannibal. I'm just here to do the right thing."

"Right thing?" Angel scoffed as he slowly advanced on Lindsey. "Yeah, okay. Somehow I find it hard to believe you give a rat's ass about that unless the right thing is suddenly defined as finding another way into Darla's pants."

"Like you're not trying to find your way back into your ex-gal pal Buffy's pants?" Lindsey challenged, meeting the vampire head on.

Flushed red, and offended, Buffy scowled at the former lawyer. "Excuse me, Mister Soon-To-Be-Kicked-In-The-Nuts?"

A rush of rage flooded Angel as he got into Lindsey's face, snarling. "Go ahead. Say that again, and see what happens, Lindsey. It'll be funny – in that hilarious tearing-your-vocal cords-out kind of way."

To his credit, Lindsey bravely held his ground. "You think I'm afraid of you?"

Angel turned that frightening icy leer he had perfected over 247 years on the former lawyer. "You should be."

"Alright, geez, would you cut it out with the Ringo vs Holliday routine?" Whistler threw up his hands, his patience finally at its ends meet. "Look, we get the point. Archrivals who hate each other, sordid love triangles, Buffy and Spike, Buffy and Angel, Angel and Cordelia, Lindsey and Darla, who cares? Newsflash, people, we're having an apocalypse here, not a casting call for General Hospital, so can we please focus on – "

"Buffy and who?" a surprised Angel whirled on Whistler.

The blonde Slayer paled as her jaw gaped open in shock. How the hell did Whistler know about that? And…Oh, God…Angel…

Stunned, an angry Spike scowled at Whistler. "Hey! How'd you know 'bout that, ya little wanker, and just who are – "

He trailed off as Angel's eyes suddenly trained on him with a gaze mixed with shock, revulsion, and none-too-disguised rage.

Ever the petulant one, Spike met his Grandsire's glower with a challenging glare, as if to say, Yeah, me and Buffy. What of it, poof?

Faith, like the others, sat in astounded stillness. Unlike the others, however, her eyes could barely leave Spike. While Spike's affair with her longtime rival was no surprise to her, she had to say, watching it unfold in front of everyone was really…not cool.

Angel wanted to believe that he misheard what Whistler had said. But his mind replayed the earlier conversations when the Scooby Gang plowed through the hotel's front lobby in crushed school buses…

There's no happiness clause in my soul...I can do whatever I want...get OFF whenever I want...on whomever...

Spike has a soul, he's on my side, which means he's on OUR side. Spike stays, and if ANYONE tries to hurt him, they'll have to answer to me! Understood?

Angel turned to stare at a still-shocked Buffy, his eyes filled with questions. And pain. And anger.

"What's going on, Buffy?" his question was soft, but the hint of barely controlled emotion was all too loud to ignore.

Buffy flushed under the intensity of his gaze. "L-look, Angel, this really isn't the time to – "

"Buffy and Spike ?"

All eyes turned to a smugly laughing 'Cordelia.' "Wow, Buffy, guess you've got a thing for necrophilia or something, huh? Traded in Tall, Dark and Brooding for Short, Blonde and Peroxide-brained, huh? So, much for that 'true love soulmate' crap you've been feeding your little Slayerettes."

As she talked, Buffy calmly, unassumingly walked towards Cordelia's imposter –

'Cordelia' continued to crow tauntingly. "I guess that old saying is true – if you're not with the one you love…love the undead corpse you're wi – "

– and cold-cocked her with a hard punch to the skull, leaving the talkative brunette's head hanging limply as she lay bound to the tilt table.

Fred gasped in shock at Buffy's sudden display of violence, which drew stunned looks from both the Fang Gang and the Scoobies.

"Buffy! What the hell…?" Angel scolded, harshly.

The blonde Slayer simply shrugged. "What? Oh, come on, guys, you know that wasn't meant for Cordy. Just Evil, Fake, Doesn't-Know-When-To-Shut-the-Hell-Up Cordy."

Buffy wouldn't admit it outloud, as she felt rather ashamed of it, but knocking out 'Cordelia' – not just for that little crack about her and Spike, but given the increasing green-eyed sensation she'd been getting about the Seer and Angel – was strangely…satisfying.

The feeling quickly dissipated when Angel's disapproving glare lingered on her, making her feel about 2 inches tall.

"That's it!" Whistler snapped, well beyond even his well-elevated boiling point. "I'm breaking up this high school drama crap right the hell now." Pointed to Buffy, Angel, Lindsey, Willow, Wesley and Giles. "All of you – in the war room, or study, or whatever. As in, nowish. It's time to talk shop o' horrors. And boy, we've got a lot to talk about."

As they began to march towards Angel's study – where Darla was still likely seething – Angel let his hard gaze linger on Buffy, still wrestling with his feelings of anger for Buffy's physical outburst towards his Seer plus the revulsion, rage and jealousy that three words invoked in his soul – Buffy and Spike.

"Damn right, we do."

Buffy sighed. Great. Just what I needed…add even more drama to an apocalypse. 'Cause God knows we don't have enough of that in one of those.

Taking advantage of that moment, Connor quietly slipped upstairs. He still didn't know how, but he had to fix things with Dawn. The girl was becoming...important to him. And he couldn't leave things like this.

Willow turned to Oz, apologetically. "Uh, sorry, Oz, looks like we're going to have to wait before we catch up."

He waived it off. "It's okay, Will," he softly replied. "Go. They need the big guns on this."

"Not fair. You're a big gun, too," she protested.

Smiling, Oz shook his head. "More of a pocket sized revolver, actually. Willow…I waited three years to see you again. I can wait a few more minutes."

She beamed at him, sweetly, her heart flipping at his words. "You sure you'll be okay, y'know, out here with everyone."

"You know me, Red," he winked. "I've always got something to talk about."

She teasingly rolled her eyes at that comment, before she walked in to join the others in their big powwow.

After watching the others walk towards the office – leaving Spike, Faith, Xander, Gunn, Lorne, Fred, Andrew, and Anya behind – Oz turned around to face the group.

What does one say after three years abroad to one old friend, two former enemies, one sort-of familiar girl, and four complete strangers in the same room as two evil adversaries?

Oz shrugged, nonchalantly. "So…got anything to eat around here?"

At this, Andrew beamed. "Ooh! Do you like Flan?"


To Be Continued


Up next: The secret behind Cordy's mysterious pregnancy is revealed. And Buffy must team with the one person she never expected for a deadly ritual that could save Cordy, or destroy them.

Plus – a reeling Dawn and a smitten, but confused Connor have a heart-to-heart talk. What's Kennedy going to think about Oz's return? And just what will Angel say about the news of Buffy and Spike?

And…the First's recruits an old, deadly enemy from our heroes' pasts to cause more havoc.

Well, that's it for me! Gotta go, work tomorrow. Please read and review!