Chapter 15: What's My Line Part 1

November 17, 1997 – Monday

Sunnydale High School

The Career Fair was on and Buffy was sitting with Xander in the lounge, staring glumly down at her test form. Banners hung from the walls, reminding students that Career Fair Starts Tomorrow, and at a table across the room, the school guidance counselor sat sagely behind another sign which read, Vocational Aptitude Tests.

As Buffy lifted her eyes, she saw Willow come in and grab a test, then walk over to join them.

"Are you a people person or do you prefer keeping your own company?" Xander read solemnly from his test. He paused, his brow furrowing. "What if I'm a people person who keeps his own company by default?"

"So, mark 'none of the above,'" Buffy said.

"There is no box for none of the above. That would introduce too many variables into their mushroom-head, number-crunching little world."

Willow beamed Xander a smile. "I'm sensing bitterness."

"It's just, these people can't tell from one multiple choice test what we're supposed to do for the rest of our lives," Xander grumbled. "It's ridiculous."

Willow's eyes widened. "I'm kind of curious to find out what sort of career I could have."

"And suck all the spontaneity out of being young and stupid? I'd rather live in the dark."

"We won't be young forever," Willow reminded him.

"I'll always be stupid," Xander shot back. And then, when nobody commented, he added, "Okay, let's not all rush to disagree…"

The three glanced up at the sound of Cordelia's voice. She was heading straight toward them, test form in hand, flanked by her usual group of Cordelia wannabes. "'I aspire to help my fellow man,'" she read aloud. "Check." She stopped, making a decisive mark on her paper. And then she cocked her head and frowned. "I mean, as long as he's not, like, smelly or dirty or something gross," she clarified.

"Cordelia Chase," Xander sighed, "always ready to offer a helping hand to the rich and pretty."

Cordelia regarded him with a frosty smile. "Which, lucky me, excludes you twice!" She moved off again, her Cordettes tittering as they followed. Xander leveled an impassive stare at her back.

"Is murder always a crime?" he asked hopefully.

Buffy watched Cordelia walk off. Since she had gotten Dawn's memories of Halloween, she had told Cordelia that she remembered what Dawn had said and it was okay for her to know. The cheerleader had nodded and away from the Cordettes she had told Buffy that she was okay, that her secret was safe with her.

Buffy glanced down the list of questions in front of her. Then she looked up with a frown. "Do I like shrubs?"

"That's between you and your God," Xander said.

"What'd you put?" Buffy asked Willow, craning her neck to see.

"I came down on the side of shrubs."

"Go shrubs," Buffy agreed, settling back in her seat. "Okay." Then she put down her pencil, her frown deepening. "I shouldn't even be bothering with this. It's all moot-ville for me. No matter what my aptitude test says—I already know my deal."

"Yep," Xander nodded. "High risk, sub-minimum wage . . ."

Buffy held her pencil in front of him. "Pointy wooden things."

"So why are you even taking the test?" Willow asked.

"It's Principal Snyder's 'hoop' of the week," Buffy said wryly. "He's not happy unless I'm jumping. Believe me, I wouldn't be here otherwise—"

"You're not even a teensy-weensy bit curious about what kind of career you could have had?" Willow broke in gently. "I mean, if you weren't already the Slayer and all."

"Do the words sealed and fate ring any bells for you, Will?" Buffy snapped. "Why go there?" She stopped, shocked at her outburst. Willow's face looked positively stung. "I'm sorry," she said. "All of that said Dawn's actually excited to see the results. She expects me to make some big money so I can do everything I need…"

Willow and Xander nodded in understanding as they both reached over and patted Buffy's hands in comfort.

It was usually quiet in the cemetery, but tonight a storm was threatening.

Buffy walked among the graves, every sense alert to potential danger. This would be the last stop on her patrol tonight, and she was tired, eager to get home. Joyce was out of town on another buying expedition for the gallery and Buffy had gotten Angel, Giles, Xander and Willow to take turns this coming week to watch Dawn while she was out on patrol.

Dead leaves tumbled across the ground, scraping over headstones, riding a stiff wind. And yet suddenly there came a different sound—not the stealthy brewing of thunderclouds, but a closer, more distinct sound—one she'd never heard before.

Buffy stopped, listening. The sound came again—tink tink tink—and she frowned, trying to place it.

Her eyes wandered slowly over dark tombstones and shadows. And then she noticed something.

The mausoleum stood slightly apart from the other graves, rising high above them in moldering splendor. Buffy gazed at it for a long time, then finally she began moving toward it.

The sound was louder now. As she neared the front of the mausoleum, she could tell that the noise came from inside, and to her surprise she saw that the solid iron door was standing open. An eerie glow of light flickered across the threshold. Buffy took a deep breath and looked in.

A torch was set in the ground, and it was this light that threw its macabre shadows over the gloomy, rotting interior of the tomb. As Buffy watched, she could see a dark figure pressed close to the far wall, so absorbed in its work that it had no idea she was even there. It seemed to be intent on one of the vault doors, and as the lock finally broke, Buffy saw the thief open the vault and grab something from inside.

Quickly she hurried out again. She positioned herself at the bottom of the mausoleum steps, arms folded casually across her chest as the figure came out.

"Does 'rest in peace' have no sanctity to you people?" Buffy asked in mock surprise. "Oh, I forgot—you're not people."

The vampire froze where he stood. He clutched the red velvet bag in one hand and prepared to defend himself. He didn't think Buffy had heard the second vampire sneaking up behind her. As she pulled out a wooden stake, this new creature lifted its claws and poised for attack.

Buffy wheeled without warning, knocking the vampire back with a vicious, jumping kick. She grabbed him and drove his head into a tree trunk.

The vampire crumpled to the ground. Buffy plunged the stake into his chest and watched him explode into dust. "One down," she declared triumphantly, then spun, ready to take on Dalton.

But the other vampire wasn't there.

Buffy gazed at the empty steps of the mausoleum. "One gone," she mumbled, bewildered.

She stood for several minutes, straining her ears through the night. When every instinct told her the danger had gone, she finally headed for home.

Summers Home

Angel was waiting for her. As Buffy stopped at her door to her bedroom, she saw him inside and so she stopped. Her heart fluttered, sending warmth through her body, the way it always did when she was close to him—when she even thought about him.

Angel didn't see her as he moved among her things, he held her plush pig in his hands. He reached out to set it on the shelf when he heard something behind him.

Quickly Buffy dropped her equipment bag beside the door. As it landed with a thud upon the floor, Angel spun toward her, and Buffy saw with amusement that he was still holding her favorite stuffed animal.

"Buffy," Angel sighed in relief.

"So. You having some quality time with Mr. Gordo?"

Angel looked blank. "Excuse me?"

"The pig."

He looked down and realized he still had her plush toy. "Oh, no—" Embarrassed, he quickly put it on the shelf. "Dawn…she wanted it."

Buffy nodded in understanding. "It helps her to fall asleep when I'm out on patrol. I thought Willow was going to be here tonight."

"She was, but when I got here, she went ahead and went home," Angel admitted.

"So, what's up?" Buffy asked casually.

"Nothing."

She tossed him a look. "You don't have 'nothing' face. You have 'something' face. So, what's up?"

The banter fell away. Angel's face grew serious. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I had a bad feeling."

"Oh, surprise," Buffy said curtly. "Angel comes with bad news." She could see him watching her in obvious bewilderment, she could read the hurt in his eyes. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I've been cranky all day. It's not you."

"What is it then?"

"Nothing, it's…We're having this thing at school—"

"Career week?"

"How'd you know?"

"Dawn told me," he answered.

"Of course, she did. It's this whole week of 'What's my line?' Only I don't get to play for multiple reasons." She hesitated, lowering her eyes. "Sometimes I just want…" She broke off. She gazed hard at the floor.

"You want what?" Angel coaxed her. "It's okay."

"The Cliffs Notes version?" Buffy said seriously. "I want to be a girl with a normal life."

Silence fell between them. Buffy lifted her head and gazed into the mirror beside her bed. She could see herself so clearly, the weary young woman gazing back with sadness in her eyes.

But she was all alone there in the glass.

Angel had no reflection.

"It's this career business has me contemplating the el weirdo that…" Buffy started.

"You are not a weirdo."

Buffy and Angel spun at the sound of the voice to see Dawn standing in the doorway. "What are you doing out of bed?" Buffy questioned.

"You really didn't think I would be asleep, did you?" Dawn asked with a sad smile. "You are the one thing I always worry about, Buffy. Well you and mom." She strode across the room to her sister. "I get the career fair thing has you down, Buffy. But you are not a weirdo or a freak or any of those other hurtful things people say about anyone who is different than they are."

"Dawn's right," Angel agreed.

Buffy sighed. "And yet I'm a girl trapped in a guy's body who because of being the Slayer can't do things other girls do." She saw the hurt on her sister's face and reach over and pulled Dawn into her arms.

"You can have more of my memories, Buffy," Dawn offered.

"It's not the same, Dawnie," Buffy admitted sadly. "Halloween was understandable. My personality was in your body. But I would rather not have memories of what your going through that I'm not."

Angel's eyes traveled to the mirror, and then slightly above it, where he seemed to notice something. He reached past her, plucking a photograph from the mirror's frame.

It was of Dawn figure skating and performing a perfect arabesque.

"This is what you want," he said in understanding.

Buffy's face softened as she took the picture from him. "Dawn's Dorothy Hamill phase. Her room in L.A. was…"

"A shrine," Dawn said embarrassedly taking over. "I had Dorothy posters, Dorothy dolls. I even got the Dorothy haircut."

"Thereby securing a place for her in the Geek Hall of Fame," Buffy said teasingly as Dawn giggled.

Angel regarded the sisters with interest. "Dawn, did Buffy want…"

"She did," Dawn admitted.

"Back then I lived vicariously through Dawn," Buffy admitted. "Our parents used to fight a lot. Watching Dawn skate was a wonderful distraction. It helped me to ignore the arguments and forget that I was a girl trapped in a boy's body. Watching Dawn, I felt safe…"

Angel carefully replaced the photo in the mirror frame. "Dawn did you ever teach Buffy to skate?" he asked, with an odd gleam in his eyes and a half-smile playing on his face.

"I wanted to," Dawn admitted.

"I wouldn't let her," Buffy admitted. "After all figure skating was seen as a girly sport. And since I hadn't even come out to Dawn at that point…"

"When was the last time you put on your skates, Dawn?" Angel asked looking at the younger Summers sister.

"About two years ago," Dawn admitted.

"There's a rink out past Route Seventeen." Angel took a step toward the sisters. "It's closed on Tuesdays."

Buffy looked at first Angel and then Dawn as she realized what he was suggesting. She returned his smile. "Tomorrow's Tuesday," she said cautiously.

"I know," Angel admitted. "I think tomorrow Dawn can teach you."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"Buffy," Dawn said as she sat on Buffy's bed while her sister got ready for bed. "Do you regret me giving you my memories from Halloween?"

"That's a hard question to answer," Buffy admitted with a sigh. "On the one hand it's hard remembering from both your perspective as well as my own that I was a girl for two hours. On the other, it was a nice gift. Do I wish you hadn't though? Kind of, sadly."

"I only had Giles give you my memories, so you would have some nice memories as a girl since your life is full of memories of being only a boy," Dawn admitted.

"I know," Buffy admitted as she sat next to her sister. "But it's memories that remind me that…"

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Dawn said. "Next time I wait for you at your school. I'll ask Giles if he can remove them."

The remainder of that night Buffy thought about Dawn's suggestion of having the memories stripped from her.

November 18, 1997 – Tuesday

Sunnydale High School

The outcomes of the aptitude tests had been posted.

As students milled about between classes, Xander and Cordelia stood in front of the large sign in the palm court, anxiously reading over the lists, searching for their names.

"Here I am!" Cordelia announced "Personal shopper or motivational speaker. Neato!"

"Motivational speaker?" Xander's look was mildly shocked. "On what? 'Ten steps to a more annoying you'?"

"Oh," Cordelia threw back at him. "And what about you? You're—"

Once again, she scanned the lists, this time finding his name. With a burst of laughter, she shook her head and moved off into the crowd, leaving Xander desperately staring at the sign.

"What? What?"

He still couldn't see his name, and Buffy and Willow walked right past him, too deep in girl-talk to stop.

"You and Angel are going skating?" Willow said excitedly. "Alone?"

Buffy shook her head. "Not alone. Dawn will be there. She's going to teach me to skate."

They turned as Xander caught up with them. One look at his face told them he was severely disturbed about something. "Wouldn't you two say you know me about as well as anyone?" he demanded. "Maybe even better than I know myself?

"What's this about?" Willow sounded wary.

"When you look at me, do you think prison guard?"

The two girls paused. They looked him over appraisingly. "Crossing guard, maybe," Buffy said at last. "But prison guard?"

Xander was in full indignation. "They just put up the assignments for the Career Fair. And according to my test results, I can look forward to being gainfully employed in the growing field of corrections."

"At least you'll be on the right side of the bars," Buffy teased.

"Laugh now, missy. They assigned you to the booth for Law Enforcement Professionals."

Buffy made a face. "As in police?" she asked. While she didn't care for the possibility of being a cop. She knew what Dawn would say. Why not get paid for protecting people when your already out there protecting people.

"As in polyester, donuts, and brutality," Xander said.

"Ugh."

Willow's expression brightened. "But…donuts…"

Buffy gazed off in another direction, where they could see Giles trying to balance a foot-high stack of books under his chin. "I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it," she said. "First I have to deal with Giles. He's on this Tony Robbins hyper-efficiency kick. He wants me to check in with him now every day after homeroom." Waving goodbye, she hurried off.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

The books were just about to fall.

As Giles tried to set them down on the library table, the whole stack tilted and began to topple over, when Buffy suddenly caught them. "Oh, Buffy." He smiled his relief. "Thank you." Together they eased the stack down safely. "I've been indexing the Watcher Diaries covering the past two centuries," he told her. "You'd be amazed at how pompous and long-winded some of these Watchers were."

Buffy hid a smile. "Color me stunned."

"I trust last night's patrol was fruitful," Giles went on, opening a notebook.

"Semi. I caught one of two vamps after they stole something from this jumbo mausoleum at the cemetery—"

"They were stealing?" Giles broke in.

"Yep. They had tools and the whole nine yards," Buffy stated as Giles began pacing, visibly disturbed. "Giles, you're in pace mode," she scolded. "What gives?"

"The vampire who escaped, did you see what he took?"

"No."

"So, you made no effort to find out what was taken?" he questioned.

Buffy looked up at him, a little surprised by his sharpness. "I'm sorry, but I was a little distracted by the second vamp that came up behind me."

Giles frowned. "We should discover what was stolen from that mausoleum last night."

Restfield Cemetery

Giles tried to keep up with Buffy as she hurried through the cemetery and that her mind was on something. "Buffy," he sighed. "Please. Slow down."

"What's the matter?" Buffy asked as she glanced back and saw the distance between them.

"That's what I was about to ask you," Giles said as he caught up to her.

"Halloween, the career fair, everything," Buffy admitted sadly. "Thanks to Dawn, I now have two sets of memories of being a girl…a real girl. Then there is the career fair and all those jobs I can't have because of being the Slayer or because I'm trans and the fear that I could be discriminated against as a result. Which means I will never be anything more than a girl trapped in the body of a boy."

Giles let out a sigh. "Buffy, you are a girl. Don't let anyone tell you any different. If you want, I can strip the memories that Dawn gave you. Those would be easy as they aren't technically yours. Sadly, the memories you yourself acquired that night would be much harder. Not impossible, just harder. But I am loath to even strip yours anyways. But having Dawn's stripped will make it easier to accept what happened to you that night."

"I'll think about it," Buffy admitted.

"Now about the rest. You can do anything you want. In fact, any future employment post high school. While you don't have to reveal your transgender if you do not want. I think it wouldn't be a bad idea to look into their policies on the subject. If they have policies against it, then seek something else out. You are not limited. Your future is your own."

It was at that moment that they reached the mausoleum. "This is the place," Buffy said. She pulled open the heavy iron door and went in, Giles following. She'd remembered to bring a flashlight with her; now she flicked it on, playing the beam all around the gloomy interior. After a moment, she led Giles over to the vault in the far wall, where the door was still standing open.

"May I?" Giles asked softly.

"Be my guest."

He took the flashlight from her, then shone it into the empty vault. "It's a reliquary," Giles explained, "used to house items of religious significance. Most commonly, a finger or some other body part from a saint."

"Note to self," Buffy quipped. "Religion—freaky."

Giles turned back around, going over the rest of the wall with the flashlight. Now they could see something else they hadn't noticed before—bold letters carved into the granite above the doorway. "Du Lac…" he read the name aloud. Immediately Buffy could hear the recognition in his tone along with unmistakable concern. "Oh dear…"

"Refresh me, the name sounds familiar," Buffy admitted trying to see if she could remember in which of Merrick's books she had come across the name in.

"Josephus du Lac is buried here." Giles frowned. "He belonged to a sect of priests who were excommunicated by the Vatican at the turn of the century. Remember the book that was stolen from the library by a vampire a few weeks back? It was written by du Lac and his cohorts—" Frustrated, he broke off. then added, "Damn it. In all the excitement, I let it slip my mind. The book is said to contain rituals and spells that reap unspeakable evil. However, it was written in archaic Latin, so nobody but the sect members could read it."

Together they walked outside. The sun and fresh air felt good after the dankness of the tomb.

"Then everything's cool," Buffy tried to sound encouraging. "The sect is gone. Worm food like old du Lac, right?"

But Giles looked even more pensive than usual. "I don't like it, Buffy. First the book is taken from the library. Now vampires steal something from du Lac's tomb—"

"You think they've figured out how to read the book?"

"I don't know." Giles shook his head, his eyes deeply troubled. "But something's coming, Buffy. And I guarantee, whatever it is—it's not good."

Sunnydale Bus Depot

A bus was just pulling in. It squealed to a stop in a huge cloud of exhaust, and the doors hissed open.

None of the passengers seemed remarkable. Inconspicuous faces in a weary crowd, they stepped off the bus and disappeared just as non-eventfully through the doors of the terminal, all bound for ordinary destinations.

Except for one.

This passenger was a veritable giant, standing a good seven feet tall in his enormous boots, and carrying a hard four-hundred pounds on his massive frame.

Greasy hair tangled over his shoulders. A thick, milky cataract covered one eye. His other eye was set deep in fleshy scars and carbuncles he called a face.

His name was Octarus.

And he was on a mission.

Streets of Sunnydale

A mild-mannered man was striding down the sidewalk on Revello Drive, whistling and carrying a briefcase. He had a round moon-face and a sharply receding hairline, and he wore a suit much too large for his slight build.

His name was Mr. Pfister, and he was also on a mission.

He paused for a moment in front of Buffy's mailbox, reading the name Summers stenciled there.

Then he turned and headed up the walkway of the house next door.

He climbed the stoop and rang the doorbell. He mechanically adjusted the knot in his tie. And when a tired-looking housewife answered the door, he gave her his best salesman's smile.

"Mrs. Kalish?"

"Yes?" the woman answered suspiciously.

"I'm Norman Pfister, with Blush Beautiful Skin Care. I'm not selling anything, so I'm not asking you to buy." He held up his briefcase so she could see. "Just to accept a few free samples."

The woman's suspicions wavered. "Free?"

"Absolutely."

She considered this a moment before letting him in. Mr. Pfister walked past her, and she shut the door behind him.

There was no one else on this quiet street this afternoon.

No one to hear when Mrs. Kalish screamed.

Sunnydale Airport

A 767 had just come in for a landing.

As the huge jet engines revved down, the hatch opened to the cargo hold, and a baggage handler climbed inside. He was wearing a Walkman, with heavy metal blasting between his ears. He stopped for an instant and squinted into the dark recesses of the compartment as sunlight blasted in from the opening behind him.

The young man peered over toward the cargo netting. For a second, he could have sworn there'd been a dark silhouette between those crates.

He shrugged. Probably only shadows…

He busied himself with the luggage, downloading it onto the conveyor belt. He paused long enough to fake the wild motions of a guitar solo, basking in make-believe applause.

And then he thought he saw it again.

Something darting behind that netting, just out of sight.

"What the hell—"

He killed the tape and started toward the shadows.

"Hey!" he called bravely. "You're not supposed to be in here."

No answer. He stopped, his courage faltering.

"Come on—" he started, but never got to finish.

The blows came out of nowhere, rocking him back on his heels. He fell in a heap on the floor, moaning slightly.

From some distant spot through his pain, he thought he heard the echo of footsteps. He thought he saw a shadow fall across him, then step over…

Slowly he lifted his eyes.

She was standing there, silhouetted in the doorway, gazing down at him.

A young woman—tall, slim, and exotic-looking—with mocha-colored skin and tight-fitting clothes.

Her forehead was high and wide, her cheekbones finely sculpted; her long black hair had been knotted at the back of her head, where it hung down her back in a thick ponytail. But it was her eyes which struck fear into the young man now—for even though he tried to look away from them, her stare seemed to hold him.

Her eyes were large and black, curiously almond-shaped. They were at the same time feline, feral, and altogether ruthless.

The eyes of a hunter. The eyes of a predator. To the young man's relief, she suddenly turned and jumped down onto the tarmac.

Her name was Kendra.

And there was much she had to do.

Sunnydale High School

School had been over for hours.

As soon as Buffy and Giles had returned from the cemetery, they'd called Xander and Willow to an emergency conference, and the four of them had been gathered in the library ever since, discussing the du Lac tomb. Dawn had joined them as soon as her own school had let out and was finishing up on her homework.

"So, Giles is sure that the vampire who stole his book is connected to the one you slayed last night?" Willow asked Buffy. "Or is it 'slew'?" she frowned.

"Both are correct," Giles said absentmindedly as he paced among bookshelves. At last he emerged from the stacks with a yellowed periodical. "And yes. I'm sure." He set the magazine down before them. They could see now that it was a National Geographic, published in 1921. "Du Lac was both a theologian and a mathematician," he explained. "This article described an invention of his, which he called the du Lac Cross—"

"Why go to all the trouble of inventing something and then give it a weak name like that?" Xander interrupted. "I'd have gone with 'Cross-o-matic!' or 'The Amazing Mr. Cross!' . . ."

He broke off as they all stared at him. Giles, ignoring Xander, opened the magazine, indicating a discolored photograph of the cross, while Willow began to peruse the accompanying article.

"The cross was more than a symbol," Giles went on. "It was also used to understand certain mystical texts, to decipher hidden meanings and so forth."

Buffy looked up at him, frowning. "You're saying these vampires went to all that trouble for your basic decoder ring?"

Giles regarded her blankly. And then he said, "Actually, I guess I am."

"According to this," Willow said, still intent on the article, "du Lac destroyed every one of the crosses, except the one buried with him."

"Buffy?" Dawn said as she looked up. She had been half listening to the conversation. "Why would he destroy his own work?"

"Good question," Buffy agreed looking at Giles.

"I suppose he feared what might happen if the cross fell into the wrong hands," Giles replied.

"A fear we'll soon get to experience for ourselves, up close and personal," Xander reminded them.

"Unless," Giles murmured, "we preempt their plans."

Willow leaned forward onto the table "How?"

"By learning what was in the book before they do." Giles paused, regarding them with grim purpose.

"Which means we can expect to be here late tonight—"

Willow beamed. "Goody! A research party!"

"Will," Xander admonished her, "you need a life in the worst way—"

Dawn looked up again this time at the clock and frowned. "Uhm, Buffy. I'm hungry," she said before looking at her sister pointedly.

Buffy glanced at Dawn and then clock in understanding. "I probably ought to get Dawn home for dinner. I'll be back bright and early, perky and ready to slay."

Giles considered a moment. "You're right of course. There may be fierce battles ahead." He nodded toward Dawn. "And you do have obligations."

The sisters then hurried out of the room.

Sunnydale High School

The ice-skating rink looked beautiful.

'Dawn looks magical,' Buffy thought to herself as she skated beside Dawn.

The sisters skated round and round on the ice, moonlight filtered in from the high windows, bathing them in a soft silvery glow.

"Watch," Dawn instructed Buffy. She took off, picking up speed. Every technique came easily back to her. She moved gracefully, effortlessly, her hair blowing gently around her face.

So intent was Buffy's attention on Dawn, that she didn't even feel the eyes watching her or Dawn from the bleachers.

Didn't even notice the cruel, scarred face that marked her every movement from the dark.

Octarus looked down at her with an evil grin. He watched as she spun into a tight pirouette and then sailed off again to the far end of the rink.

Dawn pivoted, skating backward, going faster. She launched into an airborne twist and came down effortlessly.

Buffy saw a shadow move across the ice in front of her, and she immediately looked around. "Angel?" Giant hands clamped about her neck. Octarus lifted her like a rag doll and carried her off the ice to the rink's rubber deck, ruthlessly pinning her to the wall.

"Buffy!" Dawn screamed in fear of what was happening. How had her sister been caught completely off guard? She was unsure of what she could do to help Buffy.

Buffy thrashed and fought and wrenched at his monstrous hands. She couldn't break his grip. She could only feel it closing, tighter and tighter around her throat, and she realized suddenly that she was going to die right there in front of Dawn.

Buffy struggled harder than ever. Her face was a mask of terror. Everything was going black…

"Angel!" Dawn cried happily upon seeing the vampire.

As Octarus whipped around, Angel's fist slammed into his face. Octarus lost his grip on Buffy, and she fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

But Angel's rage was uncontrollable now. Dawn rushed to her sister and they could see that Angel's face had changed into that of a vampire, and Octarus smashed a ham-sized fist straight into it. Angel went sprawling across the ice.

Dawn had an idea and smiled as she whispered into Buffy's ear and Buffy nodded.

Angel gave a furious roar and bravely stood his ground, even as Octarus moved in for the kill.

The sisters sprang to their feet. Buffy vaulted over a wooden bench and landed directly behind Octarus as Dawn came around it. As he turned around, Buffy grabbed her sister and spun Dawn, leading with the glistening blade of Dawn's ice skate.

They saw the silvery flash across his throat.

They heard the sickening rip of flesh.

Even Angel grimaced as Octarus clutched his gaping wound. The giant gazed at the sisters in both shock and betrayal, and then lumbered toward them once again.

Buffy shoved Dawn behind her as they moved out of his way. He staggered past the sisters, out onto the ice, somehow pathetic now in his determination. They watched in grim silence. The sisters felt Angel come up behind them, felt the pressure of his body as he leaned against them both.

And then Octarus collapsed.

Without a word, he dropped heavily to his knees and fell face-down on the ice.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Angel knelt cautiously beside the fallen giant.

His anger hadn't completely cooled yet, and there was a bad cut above one of his glowing vampire eyes.

He heard Buffy limp up painfully behind him, supported by Dawn.

"And the Hellmouth presents 'Dead Guys on Ice'," Dawn quipped as Buffy wondered if any of her personality had slipped into her sister.

"Not exactly the evening we were aiming for," Buffy admitted.

Angel scarcely heard them. He was too busy staring down at the ring on Octarus's finger. Lifting the massive hand, he studied the glyphlike pattern etched there on the ring's surface. "You're in danger, Buffy," he said tightly. "You know what the ring means?"

"It looks familiar," Buffy admitted. "But I read so many of Merrick's books that's hard to remember from which one I saw it in."

Angel nodded. "You both should go home and wait until you hear from me." He let Octarus's hand drop back down onto the ice. He turned around to the sisters, suddenly noticing Buffy's pain. "Are you okay?"

"What about you?" Dawn countered. "That cut—"

"Forget about me. Your sister is hurt."

"Hey. No biggy," Buffy assured him. "I've been slammed by bigger sides of beef than that."

"No, you haven't."

At that, Buffy faltered. "No," she agreed with a gaze at Dawn. "I haven't."

"How bad is it?" Dawn asked fearfully.

"Bad," Angel said solemnly. "We have to get Buffy and you, Dawn, someplace safe."

There was a quick flash of alarm in Buffy's eyes. "First why, Dawn? And second you mean—hide?"

"Let's just get you both out of here." He started to move, but Buffy stopped him, staring up at the cut on his brow.

"Wait. Your eye is all…Let me—" Buffy reached up to wipe off the blood. Angel backed away, lowering his head. "Come on," she scolded gently. "Don't be a baby. I won't hurt you." She tried to coax him closer, but Angel only shook his head.

"It's not that," he mumbled.

"He doesn't want you touching him when he's like that," Dawn said in understanding.

Buffy was at a loss. "Like what?"

He was half turned away from the sisters. They had to strain to hear his voice. "You know. When I'm…" he said confirming what Dawn had said.

"Oh," Buffy said. She stared at him for a long, long time. She felt her heart ache deep within her—a rush of love and pity and understanding. Slowly she placed her hands upon his vampire face.

Humiliated, Angel looked away, yet strangely enough, couldn't seem to pull back. It was almost as if the gentleness of Buffy's touch held him there in place, though every instinct told him to run.

"Angel, you shouldn't be scared," Dawn said. "It's part of who you are. Just as being trans is part of who Buffy is."

"Dawn's right," Buffy agreed as she turned his face to hers. Tenderly she ran her fingers along his hideous features, gazing deep into his eyes. "If you can look at me and see the girl that I am. Then you should know that I can look at you like this and only see the man that you are."

Angel looked at the sisters knowing that they were right. He felt overwhelmed with emotions, feelings he'd long forgotten, feelings he never believed he could ever have again.

Buffy drew him closer. Their eyes held; their lips met. She melted into his kiss as Dawn watched smiling.

From her hiding place in the shadows, Kendra watched the three of them and made her plans.

November 19, 1997 – Wednesday

Sunnydale High School

After Buffy took Dawn to school, she took the ring to Giles.

He'd been studying it closely for some time now, comparing it to an etching he'd found in a book.

Xander and Willow were at the table, and Buffy sat nearby with an ice pack on her knee, trying not to think about last night's misadventure. She still felt shaky, and she definitely looked the worse for wear. If Angel hadn't been there to battle Octarus, Buffy knew she and Dawn might very well not have survived.

"This guy was hard core, Giles," Buffy couldn't help saying for the tenth time. "And Angel was power-freaked by the ring."

Giles gave a slight nod. "I'm afraid he was not overreacting. The ring is worn only by members of the Order of Taraka. They are a society of demon assassins dating back to King Solomon—"

"And didn't they beat the Elks last year in the Sunnydale Adult Bowling League Championship?" Xander asked seriously.

Giles ignored him. "Their credo is to sow discord and kill the unwary."

"Bowling is a vicious game—"

"That's enough, Xander!" Giles said sharply.

The three friends glanced at each other. It was a tone Giles seldom used with any of them, and when he did, Buffy knew to worry.

"I'm sorry," Giles relented, "but this is not time for jokes. I need to think."

"These assassins," Buffy asked him, "why would they be after me?"

"Because you're the scourge of the underworld?" Willow piped up.

Buffy made a face. "Yeah, but I haven't been that scourgy lately."

"I don't know," Giles admitted. "But I think the best thing to do is to find you and Dawn a secure location. Someplace out of the way where you both can go until we decide on the best course of action—"

That did it. Buffy stumbled to her feet, officially freaked. "Okay." She held up her hands. "You and Angel have both told me to head for the hills and take Dawn with me. What's the deal?"

"I—this is an extraordinary circumstance," Giles stammered.

"You're saying I can't handle this?" Her voice sounded frightened. "These guys are that bad?"

"You might—they're…" Giles pressed a hand to his forehead, collecting himself. "They're a breed apart, Buffy. Unlike vampires they have no earthly desire except to collect their bounty. To find their target and eliminate it. And they will use your sister to that extent."

Buffy felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. She could hear Giles's voice, yet it sounded faint and faraway. She forced herself to pay careful attention.

"And you are the target," Giles was continuing. "You can kill as many of them as you like. It won't make any difference, because where there is one, there will be another. And another. They won't stop coming until the job is done." He paused, fixing her with a worried look. "The worse of it is, they are masters of deceit. Vampires are bound by the night, but these predators can be anywhere, any time. They can appear as normal as the next person. Just another face in the crowd."

Buffy gazed back at him, feeling cold. She could sense the deep fear beneath his logic.

"You might not ever know when one of them is near," Giles finished quietly. "Not until the moment of your death."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy left the library, feeling shaken and vulnerable, not only for herself but Dawn as well.

The halls were packed with people. As she shouldered her way through the Career Fair crowds, she tried to ignore the pain in her knee and keep herself in full alert-mode.

"They can appear as normal as the next person…just another face in the crowd."

She tried to shut out Giles's words as they echoed over and over in her head. Her whole body felt like a spring wound too tight. Her eyes darted warily back and forth, side to side, and everyone who passed her seemed a potential threat. That was when her mind wondered to Dawn. If they would use Dawn to get at her then there could be potential threats at Dawn's school as well.

She moved cautiously past lockers, past mobbed tables and booths, past classmates and friends, past a policewoman chatting with students, past a pair of Cordettes minus their leader Cordelia…

Without warning a guy in the crowd came toward her.

In Buffy's paranoid state, he seemed to actually lunge toward her—and he was coming way too fast. Something's not right!

Instantly she reached out, grabbing the guy by the collar. She shoved him fiercely into a wall. "Try it!" she shouted.

Oz knew better than to struggle. This girl was stronger than most guys he'd ever known.

So instead he just looked quizzically into Buffy's face.

"Try what?" he asked.

She stared at him. She swallowed. And then she let him go. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"I'm still not clear on what I'm supposed to try," Oz said again, cautiously.

Buffy looked around. People were staring, and her face flushed hot with embarrassment. "Nothing," she muttered. She headed for the door. She threw it open and bolted outside. She had to get to Dawn's school first. Then…then she would figure out what to do.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"I wish there was more we could do," Willow sighed. She looked down at the table, at the volumes and volumes of books she and Giles had tenaciously been searching since that morning. But now it was night, and she was feeling more than a little discouraged.

Giles looked up at her, his own face mirroring her fatigue and concern. "We're doing all we can," he assured her. "The only course of action is to decipher the contents of the stolen book."

"I've never seen Buffy like that," Willow broke in worriedly. "She just took off…"

"She didn't go home," Xander announced. They turned as he entered the library, a gloomy look on his face. "I let the phone ring a few hundred times before I remembered her mom's out of town."

"Maybe Buffy unplugged the phone," Giles suggested, but Xander shook his head.

"It's a statistical impossibility for a sixteen-year-old girl to unplug a telephone." They both looked at Willow. She nodded in silent confirmation.

"Besides, she wouldn't want to unplug it for the single reason of Dawn," Willow added. "She would want to be able to call for help should Dawn be hurt."

Giles began to pace. "Perhaps my words of caution were a bit too alarming—"

"You think?" Xander threw back at him, and Willow hurried to referee.

"It's good that she took you seriously, Giles," Willow assured him. "I just wish we knew where she was."

"I might have an idea of where she was," Xander admitted as they both looked at him. He looked at Giles. "You told her that they might get at her through Dawn…"

"Of course," Willow said in realization. "When she left here. She would have gone straight to Dawn's school, pulled her out to keep her safe. Sadly, that doesn't tell us where they are now though."

Streets of Sunnydale

Buffy and Dawn had been walking for hours.

Dawn was tired and cold as they turned onto their own street and continued along the sidewalk till they came to their house. All the windows were dark. The shadows around her were still.

"We're not going in, are we?" Dawn asked looking at her sister.

Buffy sighed as she looked at her sister. "I…Right now it doesn't feel safe. If these assassins know where we live they might be staking it out."

"Where are we going to go then?" Dawn wondered as they kept walking.

Buffy pulled Dawn into her arms. "Only one place I can think of where we might be safe," she said.

Angel's Apartment

The sisters stood staring at Angel's door, and then finally Buffy knocked. "Angel?" Buffy called.

There was no answer.

Buffy tried the door, but found it locked.

Forcing the lock, the sisters went in. The place was quiet and dark, the only light spilling in faintly from the hallway behind them.

"Hey…" Buffy called softly as she clicked on a lamp and looked around.

"He's not here," Dawn said having looked around at the room that was not overly decorated, but comfortable. She walked over to the bed and lay down.

Buffy sat down next to her sister; her exhaustion was catching up with her now. Her exhaustion…and her fear. Fighting back tears, she cuddled up next to Dawn in Angel's bed.

Dawn drifted off to sleep long before Buffy did. For awhile the elder Summers sister's attention was alert for anything but eventually she finally shut her eyes.

The Alibi Room

The Alibi Room was probably the seediest bar in Sunnydale.

As a rule, lights were kept low here—to hide both the décor and the patrons—and the bartender was a shifty-eyed bottom-dweller named Willy. He prided himself on being a small-time hustler, but he was even prouder of the fact that he moved in the underworld of vampires.

Tonight, Willy was cleaning up, giving the floor a perfunctory once-over with his broom. It was after-hours and he wasn't expecting anyone, so when the shadowy figure appeared in the doorway, he got annoyed.

"We're closed," Willy scowled. "Can't you read the sign?"

The figure moved slowly into the room.

As Willy looked up and recognized Angel, his whole demeanor changed. He'd always been scared of Angel—he didn't want any trouble.

"Oh," he laughed nervously, "hey, Angel. I didn't recognize you in the dark there."

Angel didn't answer. He simply stood and stared.

"What—what can I do for you tonight?" Willy chatted, already putting distance between them. He busied himself near the bar, trying to sound casual.

"I need some information," Angel said.

"Yeah?" Again, that nervous laugh. "Man. That's too bad. 'Cause I'm staying away from that whole scene. I'm living right, Angel."

Angel's voice was smooth as silk. "Sure, you are, Willy. And I'm taking up sunbathing."

"Come on now," Willy's voice cracked. He swallowed hard, trying to force down his growing fear. "Don't be that way. I treat you vamps good. I don't hassle you. You don't hassle me. We all enjoy the patronage of this establishment. Everybody's happy."

But Angel was coming toward him. He was walking over to Willy with slow, measured steps, and Willy could feel danger closing in around him. "Who sent them?" he asked.

Willy's nerves were about to explode. "Who sent who?"

Lightning fast, Angel's hand clamped around Willy's neck. The broom clattered to the floor as Willy gasped for breath.

"The Order of Taraka," Angel said calmly.

"I tell you"—Willy's eyes bulged with panic—"I haven't been in the loop."

"Let's try again. The Order of Taraka. They're after the Slayer. And to get at her they could go through her sister."

"Come on, man…" Willy whimpered.

"Is it Spike?" Angel tightened his grip. He lifted Willy off the floor.

Willy tried desperately to choke out a negotiation. "Angel, hey . . . I—I got some fresh pig's blood in. Good stuff. My fence said the white cell count is—" His words gurgled in his throat. It suddenly dawned on him that Angel was only moments away from squeezing the life out of him.

"You know," Angel mused, "I'm a little rusty when it comes to killing humans. It could takea while."

"Spike will draw and quarter me, man!"

At this, Angel relaxed his grip. He set Willy back on his own two feet. "I'll take care of Spike," he said.

"You know he ordered those guys," Willy broke at last, words tumbling out in a rush. "Spike's sick of your girl getting in his way."

"Where can I find him?"

"I tell you that, and I'm going to need relocating expenses," Willy whined. "It'll cost you—"

Angel slammed his head into the counter, sending glasses, plates, pieces of food and other debris scattering across the bar and onto the floor. Angel's fingers tightened around his neck. "It will cost who?" he prompted.

"Okay…Okay!" Willy gasped. "He and that freaky chick of his are—"

Angel squeezed tighter. He was so intent on Willy's information that he never saw the broom handle flying toward his head. Before he even realized what was happening, Angel was blind-sided across the temple. He hit the floor hard, and Willy fell in a heap at his side.

Dazed, Angel looked up. He could see a tall, exotic woman standing over him, wearing a large medallion around her neck. Her whole stance, her whole attitude radiated lethal power. She had a strange foreign accent, and her voice rang with utter contempt.

"Where are they?" Kendra demanded.

Angel kept staring. He shook his head and spit blood onto the floor.

"The guy and the young girl," Kendra said. "Where are they?"

There was no doubt in Angel's mind as to who she was talking about. He answered her with calm defiance. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you."

Kendra broke the broom handle over her knee. "Then die."

Instantly, Angel rolled out of the way. He felt a sudden swish of air as the makeshift stake plunged down toward his heart. He jumped to his feet, but Kendra was on him again in a flash. Willy raced for the exit and disappeared.

There was no holding back now. As Angel and Kendra fought savagely, they moved through the main room of the club, battling their way toward the rear. The bar's storage area was basically a floor-to-ceiling metal cage where expensive liquor was locked away, and as the two of them crashed inside, bottles shattered everywhere.

Kendra glared at Angel's face. He'd transformed into a vampire now, and his eyes were full of rage. He took up a broken bottle, thrusting it at her to fend her off, and for a split-second Kendra hesitated.

"Who are you?" Angel growled.

Kendra backed out of the storage area. Her eyes were wary and she was breathing hard, yet there was an unnerving coolness about her.

"I won't hurt you," Angel promised, "if you tell me what I need to know."

And then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

Angel was incredulous. "You think this is funny?" he demanded.

Without warning, the door of the storage cage slammed shut. He watched in disbelief as Kendra bolted it. "I think it's funny now," she mocked him.

Angel leapt to the door, shaking it viciously, trying to break the lock. "The guy and the young girl," Kendra said. "The ones I saw you with before—"

"You stay away from them!"

"I'm afraid you are not in a position to threaten."

Angel pressed his face to the metal gate. "When I get out of here, I'll do more than threaten—"

"Then I suggest you move quickly," Kendra replied, glancing at a row of high windows that ran along one wall of the storage cage. Uneasily, Angel followed her eyes. "Eastern exposure," she explained. "The sun comes in a few hours." A smile touched her lips. "More than enough time for me to find your boyfriend and hopefully save his victim."

Angel watched her go as realization set in. The woman thought Buffy was a vampire. And Dawn was someone they had planned to drain. He threw himself desperately against the door of the cage—and then again and again.

But the lock held fast.

And night crept steadily on toward morning.

November 20, 1997 – Thursday

Sunnydale High School

Giles wasn't sure what time it was.

He only knew that it was somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, and that he hadn't left the library since yesterday.

Bleary-eyed and rumpled, he talked on the telephone now while riffling through yet another book. "Xander? No, I still haven't heard from either Buffy or Dawn. I think you should go to their house and check on them…" His voice trailed away as he noticed something on one of the pages.

Something important.

"Right away," Giles replied as Xander rattled on. "I don't know…get Cordelia to drive you." He hung up. Quickly he moved over to the table where Willow had fallen asleep at the computer. He shook her gently.

Willow woke with a start, her voice shrill as she cried out. "Don't warn the tadpoles!"

Giles stared down at her, startled by her outburst. "My goodness," he frowned. "Are you all right?"

"Giles? What are you doing here?"

"You're in the library, Willow. You fell asleep."

"Oh…I…"

"'Don't warn the tadpoles'?" Giles lifted an eyebrow, and Willow's expression turned sheepish.

"I—I have frog fear." Seeing the amusement on Giles's face, she added, "I'm sorry…I conked out."

"Please," Giles reassured her. "You've gone quite beyond the call of duty. And, fortunately, I think I've finally found something."

"You did?"

He nodded, holding up his book. "I had to go back to the Lutheran Index. But I found a description of the missing du Lac manuscript. It's a ritual, Willow. I haven't managed to decipher the exact details, but I believe the purpose is to restore a weak and sickly vampire to full health."

Willow's eyes widened. "A vampire like Drusilla?"

"Exactly."

"What does that have to do with the Order of Taraka? The assassins?"

"I would imagine Spike called them here to get Buffy out of the way," Giles replied. "I'm sure he wants nothing to come between him and his plans to revive his lady love."

Willow looked pleased. "So, this is good. We know what the deal is."

"I wish I could agree," Giles sighed. "But all we know is the goal of the ritual. We don't know where it will take place or when…we don't know what it entails—"

Willow's face fell. "So, this is bad."

"No. No. We just have more work to do." He tried to smile encouragingly, but Willow gave him a strange look.

"Then why are you all pinched?" she asked tentatively.

Giles stared at her, more worried than ever.

Summers Home

The neighborhood was just beginning to waken.

It was still very early, but Xander and Cordelia were already parked in front of Buffy's house, making their way up to her porch.

"I can't even believe you." Cordelia's shrill voice shattered the morning's tranquility. "You drag me out of bed this early for a ride? What am I, mass transportation?"

Xander knocked loudly on the front door. "That's what a lot of the guys say. But it's just locker-room talk. I never pay it any mind."

"Great. So now I'm your taxi and your punching bag."

"I like to think of you more as my witless foil, but have it your way." The door was locked, so Xander began trying windows, searching for a way in. "Come on, Cordy. You can't be a member of the Scooby Gang if you aren't willing to be inconvenienced now and then." He found what he was looking for. Unlatching the window, he climbed inside.

"Oh, right," Cordelia rolled her eyes. "'Cause I lie awake at night hoping you tweekos will be my best friends. And that my first husband will be a balding, demented, homeless man—" She broke off as Xander opened the door.

"Buffy told you she was trans, right?" Xander asked seriously as Cordelia nodded. "That means she not only trusts you, but also considers you a friend. It's hard for her to admit that to anyone and she told you."

"Well technically, she didn't," Cordelia reminded him. "Her sister did. But Dawn asked me to keep quiet till Buffy was ready to tell me herself."

"Still that shows a level of trust she has trouble with," Xander admitted. "And now both sisters could be danger."

"And, what, exactly, are you going to do about it if they are?" Cordelia asked. They were standing in the living room, and she scanned the furnishings with a practiced eye. "If you hadn't noticed—you're the lameness. Buffy's the superchick or whatever and Dawn has the memories of being the superchick."

"At least I'm lameness that cares. Which is more than you can say." Xander said. He turned away from her and headed in the other direction. "I'm going to check upstairs."

Pouting, Cordelia stayed behind. She started to take another quick inventory of the living room when she was startled by a knock on the front door. Looking out the window at the top of the door, she saw a bland, balding salesman, who tipped his hat and held up a briefcase for her to see.

Blush Beautiful Skin Care.

That was enough for Cordelia. She opened the door at once.

"Good day," he said politely. "I am Norman Pfister with Blush Beautiful Skin Care and Cosmetics. I was wondering if I might interest you in some free samples?"

"Free?"

Cordelia hesitated. This wasn't even her house, but the offer was just too tempting to resist. Besides she could always give the free samples to Buffy, help Buffy to start her own makeup collection. She stepped aside so Mr. Pfister could come in.

And then she closed the door.

The Alibi Room

In the back-storage area of the bar, the first glow of morning light was just beginning to warm the windows. In human form once again, Angel could feel the dangerous prickling along his skin, could feel the faint throb of panic rising inside him.

Desperately he tried to tear the metal door from its hinges.

He was running out of time.

Angel's Apartment

The apartment was a cool, dark tomb. A haven from the waking world.

Buffy still lay next to Dawn in Angel's bed, their bodies curled among his blankets, her arms wrapped tightly around Dawn.

A smile touched her lips.

Now, for the moment, she and Dawn were safe…

But there was that sound.

That strange, disturbing sound as of something moving about in the apartment. A soft, stealthy sound, yet loud enough to rouse Buffy at last from her sleep.

Buffy's eyelids fluttered open just as the axe slammed into her pillow, only inches from her neck, Buffy pushed Dawn back away from their attacker and then twisted herself away. "Stay back, Dawn," she ordered as she leapt nimbly from the bed.

From somewhere far back in her brain came the sudden realization that the second assassin had found them, and she stared defiantly into the woman's exotic eyes. "You must be number two," Buffy challenged her, but Kendra again swung the axe. She dodged the razor-sharp blade. Kendra refused to give up. "Thanks for the wake-up," she taunted as Dawn watched from the corner of the room. "But I'll stick with my clock radio."

For the third time the axe started to come down—only Buffy caught Kendra's arm in midflight. To Buffy's distress, she couldn't seem to wrench the axe away—Kendra's strength was every bit as powerful as her own. The two of them were locked in a dead-even struggle, like an arm-wrestling match between perfect twins. For a split second they met each other's eyes and felt an uncanny twinge of recognition.

Then Buffy took advantage of the moment. Kicking out, she sent the axe flying across the room. She swept Kendra's legs out from under her and watched as her opponent hit the floor. But she didn't expect Kendra to recover so quickly. To her surprise she felt her own legs being pinned, and in the next instant Buffy landed on the floor beside her.

Now the two of them wrestled furiously, rolling about on the floor. Kendra's blows were precise and well-aimed, but Buffy managed to elude them, one-minute fighting on top of Kendra, the next minute struggling beneath her. Angel's apartment was in shambles. They smashed into his table, his bookshelf, his dresser . . .

Buffy was getting fed up. "Come on," she warned Kendra. "Don't make me do the chick fight thing."

For a second, that seemed to confuse Kendra. Panting for breath, she gasped out, "Chick . . . fight?"

"You know—" Dawn started as Buffy dug her fingernails into Kendra's hand.

As Kendra cried out, Buffy jerked her violently by the hair and threw her off balance.

"Cliched," Buffy said as Dawn chuckled, "but effective."

But now both Buffy and Kendra were on their feet again. They circled like animals, both gasping for breath. Buffy steeled herself. She was ready for the final offensive. She glared furiously into Kendra's eyes and prepared to spring.

"Who are you?" Kendra suddenly asked.

Buffy and Dawn glanced at each other. Then they stared in disbelief at the strange young woman. "What do you mean who am I? You attacked me. Who the hell are you?" Buffy demanded.

Kendra glared back at Buffy. Proud and defiant to the very end. "I am Kendra," she said. "The Vampire Slayer."