Chapter 39: Passion

February 25, 1998 – Wednesday

Halliwell Manor

Brilliant sunlight streamed through Buffy's window as she slowly woke. To the pleasant chirping of birds, she turned her head and stretched, opening her eyes.

A brown parchment envelope lay on her pillow. She sat up as she opened it, unfolding a thick piece of matching stationery.

It was a charcoal sketch of her, her eyes closed in peaceful, unsuspecting slumber.

Buffy was up in a heartbeat and racing out of her room. Using her new Whitelighter sense to detect Prue, she raced downstairs and into the kitchen where her cousins were in the midst of having breakfast.

"Look who's awake," Piper said with a look that said, shame on you for oversleeping. "You almost overslept."

"I'll flame over there later," Buffy instructed her middle cousin. "Angelus was in my room."

Prue exchanged a glance with her sisters before looking at Buffy in surprise. "You're sure?" she asked.

Buffy nodded as she handed Prue the sketch. "Yeah," she admitted. "Unless I'm learning to draw myself in my sleep."

Prue looked at the sketch and frowned she then passed it to Piper and Phoebe. She noted her sisters both had similar looks on their faces. "Find some way to keep him out of the Manor," she ordered. "I'll take Buffy to school, that way she and I can talk to Rupert together."

Gateway High School

Dressed in an animal print velour, a small white backpack slung over her shoulders, Buffy, followed by Prue, burst into the school library. Giles was stamping books, of all things, and Cordelia, fashionable in a blue chambray shirt and a gray skirt, was chatting with Xander, who was perched on the back of one of the wooden chairs.

Buffy said tersely, "He was in my room."

Giles looked up from his task and asked politely, "Who?"

Buffy stomped over to the study table followed by Prue. "Angelus. He was in my room last night."

Cordelia and Xander looked shocked.

His rubber stamp in his hand, Giles moved from behind the circulation desk through his office, to join Buffy at the table. "Are you sure?" he said, clearly astonished.

"Positive," Prue assured him. "When she woke up, she found a picture he'd left her on her pillow."

Xander piped up. "A visit from the pointed-tooth fairy."

Cordelia frowned. "Wait. I thought vampires couldn't come in unless you invited them in."

Giles turned to Cordelia. "Yes, but if you invite them in once, thereafter, they are always welcome."

"You know, I think there may be a valuable lesson for you gals here about inviting strange men into your bedrooms." Xander wasn't joking.

"Oh, God! I invited him in my car once," Cordelia realized. "That means he could come back into my car whenever he wants!"

Xander wore a regretful expression. "Yep. You're doomed to having to give him and his vamp pals a lift whenever they feel like it. And those guys never chip in for gas."

"Rupert, is there a spell to reverse the invitation?" Prue questioned. "A barrier of some sort to keep him out?" She had Piper and Phoebe looking through the books, but it didn't hurt checking other sources.

"Yeah, that works for a car, too?" Cordelia chimed in.

Giles was already in motion. "Yes. Well, I could check my—"

Xander stood as two underclassmen types wandered into the library. "Hel-lo,"he said gruffly. "Excuse me, but have you ever heard of knocking?"

One was a boy, the other a redheaded girl. The boy said, a little defensively, "We're supposed to get some books. On Stalin."

Xander pointed an accusing finger at them. "Does this look like a Barnes and Noble?"

"This is the school library, Xander," Giles reproved quietly.

"Since when?" Xander asked, as if this was news to him.

Giles took over. "Yes. Third row, historical biographies."

"Thanks," the boy said.

He and the girl student walked past the silent group and went up the stairs to the second level.

Xander gestured for the group to ogay into the allwaybay. Together they tiptoed out, just as the boy student emerged from the stacks and said, "Uh, did you say that was . . . Hello?"

They walked down the corridor and out into the sunshine. Giles resumed. "So, Angel has decided to step up his harassment of you."

"By sneaking into her room and leaving stuff at night?" Cordelia said bluntly. "Why doesn't he just slit her throat or strangle her in her sleep or cut her heart out?" At a disbelieving, ironic grin from Xander, she held out her arms and said, "What? I'm trying to help."

"It is a good question though," Prue agreed as she looked at Giles. "Well, Rupert?"

"It's classic battle strategy, to throw one's opponent off his game," Giles spoke directly to Buffy, though he directed his answer at Prue as well. "He's trying to provoke you. To taunt you, to goad you into some mishap or something of that sort."

"The 'nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah' approach to battle," Xander, the soul of helpfulness, explained.

"Yes, Xander," Giles said, with the tiniest, most British bit of sarcasm, "once again you've managed to boil a complex thought down to its simplest possible form."

Buffy was having nothing to do with banter mode. This was deadly serious stuff. "Giles, Angelus once told me that when he was obsessed with Drusilla, the first thing he did was to kill her family."

Xander got it at once as he looked directly at Prue. "Your cousins."

"I have to do something. Angelus has an all-access pass to our house and I'm not always there when Prue, Piper and Phoebe are. I can't protect them."

"We are the Charmed Ones," Prue interjected looking at her cousin. "We've taken out vampires before with you."

"Prue," Buffy said staring Prue directly in the eyes. The eldest Halliwell could see worry in her eyes. "I'm still going to worry till I've taken care of him."

"I told you, I will find a spell," Giles reminded Buffy.

"What about until you find a spell?" Buffy pushed.

"Until then, you and Prue, Piper and Phoebe are welcome to ride around with me in my car," Cordelia said, full of graciousness.

"While not needed," Prue stated looking at the cheerleader. "Thank you for your generosity."

Giles stayed with the topic. "Buffy, I understand your concern, but it is imperative that you keep a level head through all this."

"Rupert is correct, Buffy," Prue agreed.

Buffy was frustrated with Giles. "That's easy for you to say. You don't have Angelus lurking in your bedroom at night."

"I know how hard this is for you." Buffy blinked. "All right," Giles admitted, "I don't. But as the Charmed Slayer, you don't have the luxury of being a slave to your passions. You mustn't let Angel get to you, no matter how provocative his behavior may become."

"He does have a point," Prue agreed. "We have to keep an open mind on this."

"There you go. You Zen, you win," Xander remarked.

"So what you're basically saying is 'Just ignore him and maybe he'll go away,'" Buffy uttered without conviction or joy.

Giles considered. Then he nodded. "Yes, precisely."

"Hey, how come Buffy doesn't get a snotty 'once again you boil it down to the simplest form' thing?" Xander grumbled. "Watcher's pet," he flung at her.

Prue frowned. "Rupert, seriously he's not going away because we ignore him," she told the Watcher. "I think we've been lucky that he hasn't attacked us since he was turned."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Ms. Calendar's computer science class was winding up for the day. "Don't forget I need your sample spreadsheets by the end of the week." Over the peal of the bell, she added, "Oh, and I want both a paper printout and a copy on disk."

As Willow began to leave, Ms. Calendar reached out a hand and said, "Willow?"

Willow stopped at her desk. "Yes?"

"I might be a little late tomorrow. Do you think you could cover my class 'til I show?"

Willow was flabbergasted "Really? Me? Teach the class? Sure!"

"Cool," Ms. Calendar said offhandedly.

"Oh, wait . . . but what if they don't recognize my authority?" Willow fretted. "What if they try to convince me that you always let them leave class early? What if there's a fire drill?" She escalated. "What if there's a fire?"

Holding her coffee cup, Miss Calendar leaned slightly across her desk. "Willow, you're going to be fine. And I'll try not to be too late, okay?"

Willow calmed down. "Okay, good. Earlier is good." She brightened as possibilities opened up. "Will I have the power to assign detention? Or make 'em run laps?"

From the doorway, Buffy said in a strained voice, "Hey, Will."

"Hi, Payson," Ms. Calendar said tentatively. "Rupert."

Giles looked uncomfortable as Buffy ignored Miss Calendar and focused on Willow. "Willow, I thought I might take in a class. Figured I could use someone who knows where they are."

Chagrined, Willow ducked her head and crossed over to Buffy. They left the room together, as Willow murmured, "Sorry. Ihave to talk to her. She's a teacher, and teachers are to be respected. Even if they're only filling in until the real teacher shows up. Otherwise, chaos could ensue and . . ."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Ms. Calendar wilted at the slight. She took a breath, picked up her mail, and began thumbing through it.

Then she realized that Giles had stayed behind. Now he crossed the threshold and entered her classroom, looking as uncomfortable as she was. It was the first time they had been near each other since he had told her to get out the night Buffy destroyed the Judge.

A little hopeful, a little flustered, she said to him, "How've you been?"

"Not so good, actually," he admitted. "Since Angel lost his soul, he's regained his sense of whimsy."

She crossed her arms as she took in what he was telling her. "That sounds bad."

"He's been in Manor, in Buffy's bedroom specifically. I need to drum up a spell to keep him out of the house."

She reached for a weatherbeaten book on her desk. "This might help." She handed it to him. "I've been doing a little reading since Angel changed." Glancing at the cover, she mused, "I don't think you have that one."

He was obviously touched. "Thank you." He opened it, scanned a bit.

As he perused the book, she tried to strengthen the whisper-thin connection. "So, how's Buffy doing?"

He shut the book, looked down for a moment, and raised his chin. Coolly, he replied, "How do you think?"

They regarded each other for a moment. Then she admitted defeat. Turning away, she said, "I know you feel betrayed."

"Yes, well, that's one of the unpleasant side effects of betrayal," he returned.

"Rupert, I was raised by the people that Angel hurt the most. My duty to them was the first thing I was ever taught. I didn't come here to hurt anyone. And I lied to you because I thought it was the right thing to do." She looked away. "I didn't know what would happen." Her voice became a whisper. "I didn't know I was going to fall in love with you."

In the ensuing silence, she looked up at him. She couldn't read his expression, and she was humiliated. "Oh, God," she said miserably, "is it too late to take that back?"

"Do you want to?" he asked.

"I just want to be right with you," she said softly. "I don't expect more. I just want so badly to make all this up to you."

"I understand." His tone was kind, if laced with caution. "But I'm not the one you need to make it up to." He smiled gently. "Thank you for the book." With that, he left.

Halliwell Manor

There was baked chicken, salad, bread, potatoes. Buffy ate none of it.

Finally, Piper said, "Buffy, everything is going to be alright."

"I don't know," Buffy stated. "I hope so. Since Dad lost his wings, everything just seems to be spiraling."

Piper looked at Prue and Phoebe for help.

"Buffy," Prue said drawing her cousin's attention to her. "We will work together to take Angelus down. Don't let him get to you. Don't let him have that power over you."

"Okay," Buffy said as she smiled a little.

Dragon's Cove Magic Shop

The brass bells hanging over the door to the Dragon's Cove magic store tinkled as Ms. Calendar entered and looked around. The store was filled with beads, suncatchers, and bottles of murky liquids containing fetal pigs, curiosities, and monstrosities. Black candles burned, glowing scarlet, and spicy incense permeated the air.

"Welcome," the balding store clerk said. Looking and sounding vaguely Middle Eastern, he wore a white shirt and pants, an amulet, and strings of yellow beads around his neck. "How may I serve you today? Love potion? Perhaps a voodoo doll for that unfaithful—"

Cutting him off, she said, "I need an orb of Thesulah."

Immediately he dropped his act. "Oh, you're in the trade." His accent disappeared, too. "Follow me. Sorry about the spiel, during the month of February, I get a lot of tourists shopping for love potions and mystical revenge on past lovers." He shrugged philosophically. "Sad fact is, Ouija boards and rabbits' feet—that's what pays the rent here."

He went behind a case of white china decanters filled with herbs, pulled back the curtain to a spacious pantry, and started searching the shelves. "So, how'd you hear about us?"

Idly she examined a display of crystals and runestones. "My uncle, Enyos, told me about you."

He glanced at her as he picked up a mahogany container. "So you're Janna, then. Sorry to hear about your uncle."

"Thank you."

"He was a good customer," he added frankly. He set the box on the glass counter. "Well, here you go, one Thesulan orb." With a flourish he took the lid off the container, revealing a small, crystal sphere nestled in a blanket of velvet. "Spirit vault for the Rituals of the Undead."

Ms. Calendar gave it a quick glance. It was exactly what she wanted. She handed him her credit card as he continued chattering. "I don't get much call for those lately. Sold a couple as 'new age' paperweights last year." He ran the card through the machine. "Yeah, I just love the 'new agers.' They helped send my youngest to college."

His tone became a touch more businesslike as he wrote up the bill of sale. "By the way, you do know that the transliteration annals for the Ritual of the Undead were lost. Without the annals, the surviving text is gibberish."

She looked up from signing the receipt. "And without a translated text, the orbs of Thesulah are pretty much useless. I know." She tore off his copy and handed it to him.

"I only mention it because I have a strict policy of no refunds."

"It's okay." She put her copy in her purse and he replaced the lid for her. "I'm working on a computer program to translate the Romanian liturgy to English, based on a random sampling of the text."

He folded his hands on the counter. "Ahh. I don't like computers. They give me the willies."

She picked the container up and cradled it against her chest. "Well, thank you."

She was almost out the door when he called after her, "By the way, not that it's any of my business, really, but what are you planning to conjure up if you can decipher the text?"

She took off the lid and lifted the orb to the sunlight streaming through the window. "A present for a friend of mine."

"Really?" He was interested. "What are you going to give him?"

In her hand, the orb began to glow. It cast a warm glow against her skin and gleamed in her eyes.

Ms. Calendar answered simply, "His soul."

Rosenberg Residence

Willow was on her cordless phone with Buffy. She was in her PJs, and she was shutting down for the night. "I agree with Prue and Giles," she told Buffy as she moved around her room. "You need to just try and not let him get to you. Angel's only doing this to try to get you to do something stupid. I swear, men can be such jerks sometimes . . . dead or alive." Firmly, she closed her laptop.

On the other end, Buffy admitted, "I just hope Giles can find a 'keep out' spell soon. I know I'll sleep easier when I can . . . sleep easier."

"I'm sure he will," Willow said, sprinkling fish food into her new aquarium. She'd gotten it for Hanukkah. "He's, like, Book Man. Until then, try and keep happy thoughts and . . ." She lost track of what she was saying as she noticed a brown parchment envelope on her colorful block quilt.

"'And what?" Buffy prodded "Willow?"

Willow slowly opened the envelope. There was a piece of fishing line inside; frowning, she started pulling it out, realizing just at that moment that there were no fish in her aquarium.

Because they were all dead, and hanging from the strand of fishing line in her hand.

Halliwell Manor

A short time later, Willow was at the Manor. Strings of garlic hung everywhere around the house and, as she sat with Buffy on Buffy's bed in their pajamas. She kept a very tight grip on a very sharp stake. Her frightened gaze swept the room as she said, "Thanks for having me over, Buffy. Especially on a school night and all."

"No problem," Buffy assured her. "Hey, sorry about your fish."

"It's okay," Willow said sadly. "We hadn't really had time to bond yet. I just got them for Hanukkah." She wrinkled up her face. "Although, for the first time, I'm glad my parents didn't let me have a puppy."

The words hit home. Her eyes downcast, Buffy murmured, "It's so weird. Every time something like this happens my first instinct is to run to Prue, Piper and Phoebe. My second instinct is to run to Angel. I can't believe it's the same person. He's completely different from the guy that I knew."

"Well, sort of, except . . ." Willow trailed off.

Buffy looked at her. "Except what?"

"You're still the only thing he thinks about," Willow told Buffy as they looked at each other. "So…" she pointed at the crossbow at their feet "…are you using that?"

"When I have this?" Buffy said as he held up her hand and a fireball formed in it. "I don't need it. That's all for you."

"How are you Willow?" Prue asked as she stepped into the doorway.

"Scared," Willow admitted as she looked at the eldest Halliwell. "I'm just thankful my parents aren't home right now."

Prue nodded as she strolled across the room and patted Willow's arm comfortingly. "Well your safe here," she soothed. She turned her attention to her cousin. "Piper, Phoebe and I are keeping our doors open. That way we can be in here in an instant. If you see him, Buffy, at anytime. After yelling for us, flame Willow straight to the attic."

"Okay," Buffy agreed.

February 26, 1998 – Thursday

Gateway High School

Xander caught up with Willow and Buffy as they joined the reluctant morning saunter toward the school. He was wearing his wacky plaid pants, and he smiled brightly and said, "Well, good morning, ladies. And what did you two do last night?"

"We had kind of a pajama-party-sleepover-with-weapons thing," Willow informed him.

"Oh," he said rather wistfully. "And I don't suppose either of you had the presence of mind to locate a camera to capture the moment?" he asked as Buffy smiled faintly.

Willow was too on purpose to even register a reaction. "I have to go. I have a class to teach in about five minutes and I have to arrive early to glare disapprovingly at the stragglers." Then her face fell as she spotted Ms. Calendar walking briskly across the lawn in her clunky black heels and wispy dress. "Oh, darn. She's here. Five hours of lesson planning yesterday down the drain." She trudged off.

Buffy kept her attention focused on Ms. Calendar as she murmured to Xander, "You know what? I'll see you in class." She moved away from him and intercepted Ms. Calendar. "Hey."

"Hi." Ms. Calendar looked surprised, a little on guard, a little hopeful. "Is there something . . . did you want something?"

Buffy took a breath. "Look, I know you feel badly about what happened and I just want to say . . ." She trailed off. 'I know Prue, Piper and Phoebe would want me to forgive her, but I can't do it,' she thought. 'I can't pretend that I forgive her.' "Good. Keep it up."

The hurt on Ms. Calendar's face made Buffy feel ashamed. So did her words. "Don't worry. I will."

"Uh, wait. Um . . ." Buffy pulled it together. And she said something that was true. Gazing steadily at the woman, she said, "He misses you. He doesn't say anything to me, but I know he does. I don't want him to be lonely." She paused. "I don't want anyone to."

It was a moment. Their moment. Ms. Calendar softened, relaxed. "Payson…Buffy, you know that if I have a chance to make this up—"

"We're good here. Let's just leave it."

Ms. Calendar looked at Buffy for a long moment. She could see it in Buffy's eyes what the witch slash Slayer slash Whitelighter wanted, truly wanted…an apology. "I was just told to watch him. I was never told what would happen if he and you…For that I am very much sorry for everything."

Buffy looked at Ms. Calendar and then nodded as she smiled. 'Maybe I can do it after all, if she is willing to apologize, even though it's not really her fault it's mine. If I hadn't slept with him…' she thought. "Then were good," she told the teacher. "In fact let's start over, okay?"

Ms. Calendar smiled. "Sure."

"Hi, I'm Payson Halliwell, but my friends call me Buffy," Buffy said as she held out her hand.

Ms. Calendar took Buffy's hand and gently shook it. "Jenny Calendar. It's a pleasure to meet you, Buffy," she said appreciatively.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Giles was talking about some flyers with a couple of students. "Yes, so, could you hang those up? Thanks so much." He brightened as Buffy approached. "Buffy, so how was your night?"

"Sleepless," Buffy said honestly. "But no human fatalities."

"I found a ritual to revoke the invitation to vampires," he announced.

Cordelia stepped up with total relief. "Oh, thank goodness. I actually had to talk my grandmother into switching cars with me last night."

Giles blinked in astonishment at Cordelia, then continued on with his explanation. "The ritual is fairly basic, actually. It's just the recitation of a few simple rhyming couplets, burning of moss herbs, sprinkling of holy water—"

"All stuff Prue, Piper, Phoebe and I have at the Manor," Buffy drawled.

"Hanging of cross . . ." Giles went on.

They walked.

Rosenberg Residence

Willow finished nailing a crucifix in place and covering it with her plaid bedroom curtains. She said to Buffy and Cordelia, "I'm going to have a hard time explaining this to my dad."

Buffy frowned slightly. "You really think it'll bother him?"

"Ira Rosenberg's only daughter nailing crucifixes to her bedroom wall?" Willow nodded with weary affection. "I have to go over to Xander's house just to watch 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' every year."

Buffy grimaced. "I see your point."

"Although it is worthwhile to see him do the Snoopy dance," Willow allowed, this time with affection but no weariness.

Cordelia, who was wandering around Willow's room, piped up. "Willow, are you aware that there are no fish in your aquarium?"

Willow whimpered. Buffy stepped in. "You know, Cordelia," she said, "we've already done your car. Call it a night if you want."

"Right. Thanks. And you know I'd do the same for you if youhad a social life." Cordelia picked up her coat from Willow's bed. There was an envelope beside it.

A brown parchment envelope.

"Oh." Cordelia picked it up and handed it to Willow. "This must be for you."

Willow and Buffy exchanged looks. Nervously, Willow opened the flap and pulled out the by now familiar stationery. She opened it. She tensed and looked hard at Buffy. "It's for you," she said meaningfully.

Buffy opened it. It was another sketch by Angelus, this one a perfect likeness of Piper. "Piper," she blurted. She then flamed out with the book that held the ritual.

Halliwell Manor

Angelus was waiting at the side of the driveway when Piper drove up. She wasn't even out of the car when he approached, holding the door open through the opened window as she turned off the engine.

"Piper," he said in a rush, pouring on the anguish, "I need to talk to you."

Piper got out of the car and he shut the door for her. She immediately flicked her wrist and then frowned. She could instantly tell he wasn't freezing. "Angelus, why aren't you freezing?" she questioned as she turned and hurried toward the front door. "Buffy!" she called out. Since Leo's wings had been clipped. Buffy had been officially made by the Elders the family's Whitelighter. Which meant she knew that her cousin could sense that she needed her.

Angelus reached under his shirt and pulled out the amulet that hung at his neck. "Protection amulet," he told her. "Protects me from your powers. You really didn't think I wouldn't take precautions did you?"

'Where is Buffy?' Piper thought as she moved around him and broke into a run for the front door. He instantly gave chase. She glanced at the window and saw lights on in the house, so she knew at least one of her sisters or Buffy was home, which meant the front door was unlocked. She opened the door and dove inside.

Angelus tried to cross the threshold, his way was blocked by an invisible barrier. He gasped in surprise.

Buffy and Prue were walking down the stairs. Prue had a spellbook open, and she was reciting an incantation in Latin. "His verbes, consenus rescissus est."

Buffy stared at him with pure hatred on her face. "Sorry, Angelus," she said. "We've changed the locks." She slammed the door in his face.

Gateway High School

Like any good computer person, Ms. Calendar lost track of time as she continued working on translating the annals for the Rituals of the Undead. She sat in the darkened room, oblivious to everything except her keyboard and her screen. As she hit Select All and pressed Save As, she fiddled anxiously with a pencil and talked to the screen.

"Come on, come on," she murmured

The right-hand side of screen began filling up with new text. She skimmed it and, in that moment, she knew she had it. "That's it!" She allowed herself a joyful laugh as she copied her achievement onto a diskette. "It's going to work. This will work."

'Can I code or not?' she thought happily, as she started a printout. She rolled on her chair over to the old-fashioned tractor-feed printer and watched the characters printing.

Then she raised her line of sight just slightly and jumped up in sheer fright.

Angelus sat at a desk with a smile on his face, watching her.

"Angel." She struggled not to panic as she slowly backed away. "How did you get in here?"

"I was invited," he said innocently, shrugging as if it were obvious. "The sign in front of the school? Formatia trans sicere educatorum."

Jenny said breathlessly, "'Enter, all ye who seek knowledge.'"

He chuckled and got to his feet. "What can I say? I'm a knowledge seeker." Holding out his hands, he started walking toward her.

Her panic level rose, but she kept herself composed. "Angel," she tried, "I've got good news."

"I heard." He sounded as if he were speaking to a child. "You went shopping at the local boogedy-boogedy store."

The glow on her desk attracted him. He picked up the crystal sphere and his voice dropped. "The orb of Thesulah. If memory serves, this is supposed to summon a person's soul from the ether, store it until it can be transferred."

He held it up. "You know what I hate most about these things?" he asked pleasantly. Then he hurled it against the blackboard, shattering it dangerously close to her head. Ms. Calendar ducked and screamed. He laughed. "They're so damned fragile. Must be that shoddy Gypsy craftsmanship, huh?"

She made herself move, made herself glance over her shoulder, in search of the doorknob.

He turned his attention to her computer. "I never cease to be amazed how much the world has changed in just two and a half centuries."

She reached the doorknob. It was all she could do to keep from screaming.

The door was locked.

"It's a miracle to me," he told her, wide-eyed. You put the secret to restoring my soul in here . . ."

Savagely, he flung the computer to the floor. The monitor smashed against the linoleum and burst into flames. "And it comes out here." He ripped the printout off the printer. "The Ritual of Restoration. Wow." He chuckled. "This brings back memories."

He tore it in half.

"Wait! That's your—"

"Oh. My 'cure'?" He grimaced an apology as he kept ripping. "No thanks. Been there, done that. And déjà vu just isn't what it used to be. Well, isn't this my lucky day." He held the pages over the burning monitor. "The computer and the pages."

He set them on fire and dropped them. Then he crouched low over the flames and made a show of warming his hands. "Looks like I get to kill two birds with one stone."

Her heart was thundering. She was so terrified she was almost blind. She started edging toward the next door, which was parallel with Angelus. But then he turned to her, in full vamp face, and drawled, "And teacher makes three."

She raced for the door. He sprang up and caught her easily, and she screamed. With the supernatural strength of his kind, he flung her toward the wall. With bone-crunching force, she hit the door, and slid down it even as the momentum of the impact pushed it open.

She was momentarily dazed, but the adrenaline in her system propelled her on. Slowly, he advanced. Her forehead bleeding, she got to her feet, panting with fear, and flew down the corridor.

"Oh, good," Angelus said dangerously. "I need to work up an appetite first."

She raced for her life, her heels clattering as she reached the first set of swinging doors in the corridor. Then she ran to the right, past the lockers, and to the exit. The door was locked.

She doubled back and saw his shadow looming through the panels of glass in the double doors. She took another exit. Down the breezeway she ran, arms pumping, looking back to see him shortening the distance between them. Light and shadow played on his monstrous features.

Like a quarry run to ground, she was forced to another entrance into the school. For a few horrible moments, she thought that door was locked too, but it finally gave way under her frantic pushes.

She lost time and he was practically on top of her by the time she got the door open. He growled like an animal, anticipating the kill. She slammed the door in his face and ran on.

The bright overhead fluorescents cast an eerie, cold blue glow over the two of them as she lost more ground. Then she saw the janitor's cleaning cart and pushed it at him. It slammed into him and he was flung over it, landing hard on the floor.

While he was down, she took the nearby flight of stairs. On the landing, gasping for breath, she looked over her shoulder as she darted past a semicircular window—streetlamps and passing cars, the unsuspecting and uncaring normal world of suburban night—and ran right into him.

Her eyes widened as he put his chilled fingers to her lips, urging her to silence. His laughter was inhuman. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't blink. Couldn't breathe.

"Sorry, Jenny. This is where you get off," he said in a low, gentle voice. And then he grabbed her head and twisted.

Her neck made an interesting crack.

Her body tumbled to the floor.

A little winded, Angelus took a couple of deep breaths, and then he cocked his head. Invigorated, he said, "I never get tired of doing that."

Without another glance at the dead woman, he moved on.

Halliwell Residence

There was a chipper rap on the front door, and Prue quickly answered it. It was Giles.

"Prue," he said with brisk British pleasantness. "Good evening."

"Hi. Come on in. Here's the book." Prue held out the volume that contained the de-invitation ritual.

"Right. I guess I should do my apartment tonight." He glanced down at the book, then up at Prue. "Did the ritual go all right?"

"It went fine," Prue made a little face. "Well that is not entirely true. The spell itself went fine. We had a visit from Angelus tonight. She tried to freeze him, he wouldn't freeze."

"What?" Giles said in surprise.

"He has a protection amulet," Prue continued. "It protects him from our powers."

He blinked and said, "That's disconcerting. So otherwise the ritual went fine? You all had no problems in casting it?"

"Other than it being in Latin, no," Prue answered. "That's the first time any of us has ever done a spell in Latin. That said we did copy it into both Book of Shadows. That way we have it for future reference."

"That is probably sound thinking," Giles said. "Well good night, Prue."

"Good night," Prue returned.

Giles Apartment

There was a long-stemmed red rose angled between the knob and the jamb of Giles's front door. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

'She's here,' he thought, warming with anticipation.

He lifted the rose and inhaled its lovely scent, his smile growing. Then he opened the door, poking in his head and called, "Hello?" He shut the door and set down his briefcase. "Jenny? It's me."

To the passionate strains of Puccini'sLa Boheme, he took off his coat. That was when he saw the bottle of wine cooling in the bucket and the note on parchment paper.

Upstairs, it read. He smiled, a bit flustered, and looked upward, in the direction of his loft bed. He put down the envelope and took off his glasses. Smoothed back his hair. He felt years younger, lighter; he felt himself to be a man quite in love with a beautiful young woman, who wanted him.

Unable to give voice to the emotion rising within him, he let the soaring opera music do it for him.

He took up the wine and the two glasses that were beside the bucket. On each step which led to his beloved, a votive candle glowed. The stairs were strewn with roses. Softly, he ascended, as the opera duet crescendoed, the full, throaty voices rising in desperate yearning.

There she is. She was lying on his bed, her dark hair piled on the pillows like a filigreed frame, her exquisite features a study in heart-stopping beauty.

His heart rose; he felt the glow of the candles in his skin. So beautiful, lying so still . . .

So still. . .

Her eyes, staring, as if she were. . .

As if . . .

The wine bottle crashed to the floor.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

So still, Giles stood against the wall. His eyes staring, as if he were dead.

The blue and red lights of the police cars flashed across the walls of his apartment; the dispatcher's crackling voice buzzed crazily, like a hornet.

He did not look as a police officer and a man in a blue jumpsuit marked Coroner wheeled the loaded body bag past him.

Then Darryl Morris said, not without compassion, "Mr. Giles, I'm going to have to ask you to come with us. Just to answer a few questions."

It was then that he felt a flicker of what might pass for life. Rousing himself as best he could, he murmured. "Of course. Yes. Procedure." Giles looked at him. "I need to make a phone call, if that's all right."

"Let me guess, Halliwell?" Darryl asked knowingly.

"Yes," Giles replied.

"Make it quick," Darryl ablidged.

Halliwell Manor

Buffy walked with Willow, who was spending another night, through the conservatory. "So everything go alright?" Willow asked.

"Yeah," It wasn't too horrible," Buffy replied.

The phone rang. Buffy ran into the front hall where the nearest phone lay. Upbeat, she lifted the receiver and put it to her ear. "Halliwell residence, Payson speaking. Oh, hey, Giles." She leaned against the wood and plaster wall. As she listened, she went slack. She then limply handed the phone to Willow.

Summoned by the sobbing, Prue, Piper and Phoebe ran into the room. Phoebe embraced Willow as Buffy buried her head against her knees.

"Willow?" Piper said looking between Willow and Buffy. "Buffy? What's wrong? Has something happened?"

Neither girl answered right away and then slowly all of what Giles had told them tumbled out in a rush…Jenny Calendar was dead, that Angelus had killed her and that Darryl was taking Giles in for questioning.

Prue was immediately on the phone calling Darryl.

When Darryl finally returned Prue's call, he informed her that they had released Giles and that Jenny Calendar was dead. He then asked her if it had anything to do with them. Her answer reluctantly had been yes, that the killer was something supernatural.

Giles Apartment

Buffy, Willow and Prue flamed into Giles apartment and Prue called steadily, "Hello? Rupert?" She then noted the wine bucket. "Angelus was very elaborate," she told them.

Buffy picked up the sketch of Jenny Calendar. "And here is something Giles missed." She handed the sketch to Prue.

Prue shut her eyes. "I can't imagine. Actually, yes I can," she said as she looked at Buffy who had moved past her and headed up the stairs.

Willow walked over to an empty chest. "Look. All his weapons are gone."

Buffy came down the stairs and paused on the landing.

Willow said, "So he's not here?"

"The question is now, where is he?" Prue suggested.

"He'll go to wherever Angel is," Buffy said flatly.

Willow looked at Buffy. "That means the factory, right?"

"Which means he is out for revenge," Prue stated. "There is only one problem with that."

Buffy came the rest of the way down the stairs. "Your right, Prue," she said as her face clouded with worry. "It's going to get him killed."

Abandoned Factory

Angelus was loving the look of disbelief and anger on Spike's face.

"Are you insane? We're supposed to kill the girl, not leave gag gifts in her friends' beds."

With Sunshine under her arm, Drusilla leapt to Angelus's defense. Carefully, diplomatically, she said, "But, Spike, the bad teacher was going to restore Angel's soul."

"What if she did?" Spike shrugged. "If you ask me, I find myself preferring the old, Buffy-whipped Angelus. Because this new improved one is not playing with a full sack."

Spike pressed on, staring at Angelus while he spoke to Drusilla. "Hey, I love a good slaughter as much as the next bloke, but his little pranks will only leave us with one incredibly brassed-off Slayer."

"Don't worry, Roller Boy," Angelus bit off. He folded his arms across his chest. "I've got everything under control."

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, a Molotov cocktail hit the table and burst into roaring flame. Angelus and Drusilla ran past the table and the wooden high-back chairs, Spike wheeling up behind.

As they fled, an arrow pierced Angelus's shoulder. Gritting his teeth from the pain, he stopped to pull it out. He looked up to see Rupert Giles advancing calmly on him, a baseball bat in his hand. The human dipped the bat into the fire and kept advancing. Before Angelus had time to defend himself, the Watcher hit him square in the face with the flaming bat, then backhanded him the other way.

"Geez, whatever happened to wooden stakes?" Angelus got out, grimacing as he hunched over in pain.

Giles slammed the bat down on him yet again.

Drusilla bolted forward to help, but Spike wrapped his hand around her forearm and said, "Ah-ahhh. No fair going into the ring unless he tags you first."

The Watcher got off a half-dozen more blows before Angelus got up to his feet, rose to his full height, and blocked the downward arc of the bat. He grabbed Giles by the throat and dangled him above the floor. The baseball bat clattered to the floor as Giles lost consciousness.

"All right, you've had your fun," Angelus raged. "But you know what it's time for now?"

Suddenly he was pulled away and thrown backward. Then, as Buffy kicked him brutally in the jaw, she shouted,"My fun."

Though their movements were masked by spreading fire, Angelus was aware that Drusilla and Spike were making their escape as the Slayer threw him to his knees. She got in one more strong kick before he recovered and flung her over his shoulder. While she steadied herself, he ran up the stairs. Grabbing a metal reinforcing rod, she tripped him and he began to slide back down the stairs.

He kicked her and she fell backward. He got up the stairs and headed for the gangway. But she jumped up some wooden crates and met him on the catwalk.

The fire was growing below them as he swung at her. Flames glowed on the walls. She dodged and clipped him behind his knee. He grunted and collapsed, and while he was down, she looped a rope around his neck and slammed him from side to side, battering him mercilessly. Then she slammed her foot into his midsection and rammed him backward. As he got to his feet, she leaped up, held on to a pipe, and kicked him in the chest again.

He staggered and fell, taking barrels and pipes with him. The flames rose up, adding an interesting new dimension to their battle. She was most definitely gaining the upper hand.

He charged her again and she threw him down again, and started whaling on him.

He laughed as if it were all a big game and said, "Are you going to let your old man just burn?"

Buffy ticked her glance from Angelus to the bottom level of the burning factory. The flames were rushing toward Giles, who lay unconscious on the floor.

The decision was too horrible, too unfair: Angelus's life for Giles's. If she didn't drag Giles out of the way, he would surely die.

If she didn't kill Angelus now, she might never get another chance. And more people would definitely die. He had already threatened everyone she loved. And keep-out spells in houses were not enough. Any time any of them went outside in the dark, he might attack. Buffy couldn't be everywhere, protecting or later, he'll kill someone.

Angelus took advantage of her distraction to toss her over the side. She caught herself, then jumped the rest of the way down. As Angelus got away, she forced Giles to his feet and then flamed out. They appeared in the middle of the living room of the Manor.

The fresh air roused him. "Why did you come?" he shouted at her, pushing her away. "This wasn't your fight!"

Her answer was a solid roundhouse to his jaw. He collapsed facedown on the ground. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" she screamed at him.

Prue, Piper, Phoebe and Willow all stood back and watched.

The hard tears came. She fell down beside him, clinging to him as they both wept. "I can't lose you," she told him with a brief glance at her cousins. "Just like I can't lose Prue, Piper and Phoebe. You mean as much to me as they do."

. February 28, 1998 – Saturday

Restfield Cemetery

It was a cold, gray day. In the cemetery, leaves floated on a small pond of gray water not far from Jenny Calendar's gravestone. Prue, Piper and Phoebe stood a few paces back away from Buffy and Giles, giving them some privacy as they mourned for the teacher.

Giles knelt on one knee and laid roses on the rectangle of sod newly draped over the freshly dug grave. For a moment, he stayed there, and there was something noble in his grief. Something strong.

He rose and put his hand in the pocket of his raincoat. "In my years as Watcher, I've buried too many people." He glanced at Buffy. "I almost buried you three times now." He looked back at the gravestone. "Jenny was the first one I loved."

Buffy said with all her heart, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't kill him for you . . . for her . . . when I had the chance."

They both looked down at the simple headstone. Jennifer Calendar, was all it said. Nothing of Janna.

Nothing of curses and betrayals.

Nothing of passion.

"I wasn't ready," Buffy admitted, "but I think I finally am."

March 2, 1998 – Monday

Gateway High School

Ms. Calendar's computer science students were utterly silent when Willow walked in, her notebook and text in her arms. She said, a bit shyly, "Hi. Principal Snyder has asked me to fill in for Ms. Calendar until the new computer science teacher arrives. So I'm just going to stick to the lesson plan she left."

She walked around the desk and put down her things. She unknowingly knocked a yellow diskette off the desk. Sliding between the desk and the portable storage cart Ms. Calendar had drawn up beside it, the disk clattered to the floor.

It rested there, at an angle.

Waiting.