Regression

by Gyrus and Honor H

Summary: A millionaire with a Nefarious Scheme kidnaps Dawn, and the Scoobies join forces with the Fang Gang to save her--until Angel and Spike undergo a startling change.
Author Notes: Gyrus and myself wish to thank Tanja, Big K, and S.J. Smith for being our betas, and P. Miano for the Rude Italian.
Story Notes: This story takes place early S6/S3, post "Life Serial" and "Fredless."
Disclaimer: The aforementioned conspirators own none of the aforementioned characters. Those belong to Joss Almighty and his minions.

Chapter 1

It was surprisingly cold in the desert.

At least, that was what Nicole D'Armand thought. She was well-traveled, but she had never been in a northern desert like the one that surrounded the remote town of Rachel, Nevada. She pulled her olive-drab coat tighter around her slim frame and tried to shove herself deeper into the passenger's seat of the brown Oldsmobile.

The driver looked over at her. He was a slightly gaunt-looking man in his early 40s who wore the uniform of an Army major.

"Too cold for you, ma'am?" he asked. The neutral tone of his voice made it unclear if he was asking out of genuine concern or amusement at the woman's discomfort.

"I'm fine," D'Armand answered. Her voice had the slightest tinge of a French accent. "We must be close by now."

"Yes, ma'am. The turnoff is about two miles ahead."

Nicole looked down and checked herself over. She too wore an Army uniform, complete with captain's bars. Neither she nor the major wore sidearms; outside weapons weren't permitted where they were going.

A couple of minutes later, the major turned the car onto a nondescript dirt road that led north off the two-lane desert highway. There were no signs or lights. To all appearances, it looked like a long farmhouse driveway, rather than the road to what was probably the most secure prison in North America.

They drove carefully along the rutted road for nearly twenty minutes before the gate appeared in the headlights. The major had told Nicole earlier that the gate was the only opening in nearly eight miles of chain-link fence crowned with razor wire. What was more, a mild electrical current ran through every link in the fence. The amperage was not high enough to be noticeable to the touch, but any change in the electrical conductance of the fence would alert the guards to anyone trying to climb over or cut through.

They pulled up in front of the gate. The major rolled down the window to address the guard in the small booth next to the car. The guard saluted.

"Welcome back, sir," the man said to the major. "Identification, please."

D'Armand pulled her credentials from her uniform jacket and handed them to the major, who passed them, along with his own ID, to the guard. The guard inspected them, ran them through an electronic scanner, and handed them back to the major. Then, with a baton-sized flashlight, the guard peered through the windows into the back seats of the car. The major pulled the handle to open the trunk, which the guard also inspected before stepping back into his booth.

"Have a nice evening, sir," the guard said, pressing a button. The gate opened, and D'Armand and the major drove through.

About 100 yards from the gate, a single light became visible, like a porch light. It was situated next to a steel door on what looked like a small concrete bunker.

The tip of the iceberg, D'Armand thought.

There was a small dirt lot near the building, with a sign that read "All Vehicles Must Park Here." The major pulled into it and stopped the car.

D'Armand looked over at the major. "Check your heating system," she said.

The major looked inside his jacket at a small, square object - a specially-made wet-cell battery with a ceramic casing. Non-ferrous wires ran from the battery under the man's clothing, where they connected to what was essentially a set of long underwear. More wires led back out from the undergarments to a tiny readout on the face of the battery, which currently read "98.6".

"Heating system is functional," said the major. He closed his jacket and opened the car door.

They walked up to the steel door of the bunker. The major pressed a button on an intercom that was fixed to the concrete wall next to the door. He looked directly into the tiny camera lens on the intercom's face as he spoke.

"This is Major George Underwood and Captain Joan LeTour requesting access."

"Access granted," a man's voice replied.

The steel door slid open to reveal a small, concrete-walled room. The major walked in with D'Armand behind him.

Two guards were posted across the room from the entrance, on either side of a second steel door. One of the guards was a tall, pale young man who stood behind a small console in the left rear corner of the room. His nametag read "Dougherty". The other guard, whose name plate read "Tranh", was a wiry fellow who stood in the right-hand corner, holding an M-16. Both men straightened to attention and saluted the major and D'Armand as they walked through the metal detector just inside the entrance.

"At ease," the major said. Both men relaxed, though the rifle-bearing guard did so only slightly. The major had explained to D'Armand that all would-be guards here had to score high on several psychological and physiological tests of vigilance. Generally, vigilant soldiers came in two flavors - the ones who can relax without letting their guard down, and the ones who never relax. Clearly, this room contained one of each.

"Welcome back, sir," Dougherty said. "How was Aspen?"

"Perfect," the major replied. "Blue skies every day and plenty of powder on the slopes. Now, I need to see prisoner 32J."

Nicole narrowed her eyes as she looked at the guard at the console. This was where her special talents came in.

She reached into the man's mind.

Like a bubble of air stirred up from the bottom of a pond, up floated all manner of information associated with prisoner 32J: His face, his name, things he had said or done in Dougherty's presence, and most importantly, the five-digit access code for his prison cell. The codes were changed weekly and were not stored on any computer, only in the minds of the prison guards, who were made to memorize them.

"Will the captain be joining you, sir?" Dougherty asked.

"No," the major replied. He turned to D'Armand. "Wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

The major stepped up to the steel door in the back of the room. Dougherty pushed a button on his console, opening the door. When the major walked through, the guard sealed it behind him.

Beyond the door was a tiny room with a yet another steel door opposite the entrance. Set into the right-side wall was a pair of lenses which jutted from the concrete like binoculars embedded in the wall by a freak tornado. The major walked up to the lenses and looked into them.

"Identify Major George Underwood," the man said in a loud, clear tone.

Half a second later, a computerized male voice replied. "Identity confirmed. Please hold still for infrared scan."

Nicole could hear all this through the intercom speaker on Dougherty's console. Once again, she focused her eyes on Dougherty.

Everything looks fine, she thought at him.

The guard looked down at his screen, which showed the outline of the major in various colors. His legs and torso were red, as one would expect from a warm human body. His face and hands, though - were they a little blue?

No. They were fine. His infrared signature was normal.

The guard pushed another button on the console, signaling his agreement with the computer to let the major enter. The inner door opened onto a set of stairs that led down to the main prison level.

Now came the hard part. It had been very difficult just to forge appropriate military ID for Nicole; to fake transfer orders for a prisoner was virtually impossible. Which meant that the major could not simply walk prisoner 32J out the door. All Nicole could do was buy the major some time.

She looked at Dougherty again, projecting images and feelings of normalcy. Everything is fine. Green across the board.

Nicole, of course, knew differently. Casually, she put her hands behind her back.

The major stopped in front of Cell 32J just as the display on his digital watch lit up. D'Armand was sending him the access code she'd plucked from the guard's mind. Good.

Everything was happening on time and according to plan, which was how the major preferred it, despite his very recent and involuntary change of lifestyle. Becoming a vampire had banished his loyalty to God and country, but not his love of organization and discipline. He also admired resourcefulness, a trait which his new employer, Mr. Hayden, seemed to have in abundance. Hayden had not only found the location of this facility, but also divined the best place and time to kidnap the major, who was one of the prison's highest-ranking officers, just long enough to convert him to the cause via vampirism. Hayden had also provided the major with some nice gear, including the watch-receiver and the personal heating system to fool the IR scanner. And you had to respect a man with his own mind-reader on staff.

The major reached the door to Cell 32J and looked at the small television monitor next to the access keypad. Inside the cell, he could see the man he had come for, who appeared to be resting on his cot.

Quickly, the major punched in his access code and pushed the door open. The man on the cot opened his eyes at once.

"Ethan Rayne?" the major said. "Come with me."

Everything is normal, Nicole thought. Everything is fine.

It was working. Dougherty couldn't see the blinking red light on his console that indicated an open cell door. But Nicole knew that wouldn't work for long.

Moments later, a voice crackled from the intercom on the console. "Station One, Central Control. We show unscheduled access at Cell 32J. Can you confirm, over?"

The guard looked down at his control panel, then pushed the intercom button. "Negative, Central Control. All lights on my board show green. Cameras show no activity, over."

The second guard walked around behind the first and looked over his shoulder at the console. "What?" he said, pointing his finger at the video monitors. "Right there! The major is in the corridor with 32J!"

"What are you talking about? I don't see- Oh, shit!"

Damn, Nicole thought. Her mental illusions worked very well on the unsuspecting, but they could be broken by a disciplined mind, or one that had enough evidence to contradict what she showed it. This guard had both.

Needing a new diversion, Nicole turned her attention to the rifle-bearing guard, Tranh.

Shoot him, she thought.

She knew Tranh probably wouldn't pull the trigger. His reason, if not his conscience, would stop him. But soldiers are trained to commit violence upon the orders of others, so his first instinct would be to obey, at least long enough to distract his fellow guard.

Sure enough, Tranh pointed his M-16 at Dougherty. Both men's eyes showed equal amounts of surprise.

Before Tranh could utter a word of protest or explanation, Dougherty stepped left and pushed the barrel of Tranh's rifle to the right, simultaneously gaining some control of the weapon while taking himself out if its line of fire. But Tranh was just as well-trained. He let go of the rifle altogether and drove his palm upwards into Dougherty's chin. Dougherty fell backwards, unconscious.

Tranh grabbed the rifle off the floor. He started to bring it to bear against D'Armand, but she was already right in front of him. She snapped her foot into his groin hard enough to double him over, then slammed the blade of her hand down on the back of his neck.

Tranh was dazed. Nonetheless, he straightened up and made a grab for D'Armand's wrist in an attempt to throw her down and immobilize her. But Nicole could read his intent as easily as anything else in his mind. She yanked her wrist back, out of Tranh's reach, and simultaneously drove her other fist forward into his jaw. Tranh was knocked out cold.

Nicole ran to the console. The major and Ethan Rayne were nearly at the exit door. Fortunately, neither Dougherty nor Tranh had hit the emergency button on the console, which would have precipitated a general lockdown and trapped everybody where they were. She entered the release code - also taken from Dougherty's brain - and both major and prisoner dashed up the stairs and into the guard room.

They ran to the car and sped towards the gate. They could hear gunshots up ahead and saw white streaks of light shoot into the sky. The major had told Nicole earlier that the guards here loaded their rifles with magnesium tracer bullets hot enough to incinerate a vampire on contact. They weren't too good for most other species, either.

The gate was open when they got to it. A black Cadillac was parked right next to the guard station; currently, one man, two vampires, and one big, ugly demon were getting into it. The dead body of the gate guard lay near the car, as well as the corpses of a few guards who had come from an emergency response station near the guard post. Apparently, they hadn't been fully prepared for this particular emergency.

Or maybe they had. The wide-set headlights of several Humvees were rapidly approaching from several directions.

The major sped past the Cadillac and the guard station and kept going down the rutted dirt road. The sedan they drove looked crummy but was equipped with a brand-new suspension and shock absorbers. The frame sat a few inches higher off the ground than was standard for the model.

White streaks filled the air, smashing windows and slamming into doors. The tracer bullets didn't have much penetrating power; D'Armand and Rayne were saved when they ducked below the line of the windows. But the major, who was driving, had no such opportunity. A burning bullet hit him in the shoulder, setting him on fire from the inside. Within moments, his vampire body flamed orange and then turned to ash.

D'Armand screamed but still had the presence of mind to slide over into the scorched driver's seat and keep the car moving forward. A few more seconds, and they were out of range. Looking in the rear-view mirror, Nicole could see that the Cadillac had also made it out of the firestorm.

She turned onto the two-lane highway and drove like mad for the safehouse her employer had set up nearby. Ethan, who had kept to the floor until now, climbed back into his seat.

"So," he said, "when did I become so important, to be worth all this trouble?"

Chapter 2

Dawn Summers left her friend Lisa's house just after sunset. She knew it wasn't entirely smart to walk around Sunnydale after dark, but it was only four blocks to her house, and besides, if Dawn wanted to pass Honors English and Lisa wanted to pass Algebra I, they needed to study together. That, at least, was what Dawn would say to Buffy when she got home, leaving out the part about how Dawn and Lisa had talked about boys for roughly twice the amount of time they'd spent studying.

A few driveways later, Dawn caught a familiar smell: cigarette smoke.

"Spike?" she called warily.

The blond vampire melted out of the shadows, exhaling a cloud of smoke. " 'Lo, Little Bit."

Dawn couldn't keep herself from grinning. In general, she disapproved of pet names now that she was a mature fifteen-year-old (as Xander had learned the last time he'd dared to call her "Dawnster"). However, a vampire having one for her was entirely too cool. How many other girls at her school could say that?

Spike fell into step beside her. "I haven't seen you around much lately," said Dawn.

"Yeah, well, I ain't much for company these days," the vampire said. "I patrol with your sis a bit. Other than that, I keep to myself."

"Oh. Did she-did she ask you to walk me home tonight?" A bit of Dawn's hurt leaked through the words. She wondered lately if Spike had only watched over her because of his promise to Buffy. Since Buffy had returned, he'd all but withdrawn from Dawn's life.

Spike picked up on the unspoken question. "Nope. I was just out, saw you, thought I'd keep an eye on you. Normally, you're all surrounded by Scoobies."

"Still sore at them for keeping the resurrection thing a secret?" Spike's sound of disgust confirmed Dawn's guess. "I guess I can see that." She'd been a little miffed herself at first, but understood that they hadn't wanted to raise her hopes in case the spell hadn't worked.

"Yeah, well, they do their thing, I do mine." The vampire took another drag on his cigarette. "So what about you? Why are you out past sundown?"

"Studying," Dawn said, indicating her backpack.

"Studying?"

Dawn caught Spike's shrewd glance. "Seriously. Studying math and English. And maybe talking about boys a little." Another glance. "Or maybe a lot."

Spike chuckled. "Some lucky lad caught your eye?"

"I think Matt Alvarez likes me. He's okay, but my friend Janice? She says upperclassmen are where the real action is."

"You watch yourself with older boys and action," Spike cautioned. "Boys that age, only one thing on their hormone-soaked little minds."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "You sound just like Buffy when you say that. I even mention boys and she starts to hyperventilate."

"Yeah, well, she just doesn't want you repeating her own disastrous love life, Bit. She's likely to lock you in a convent before she'll let that happen, and with good reason. Of course, if I were you, I wouldn't take any relationship advice from someone who dated Angel."

"Thanks," Dawn said dryly. "Who do I ask about stuff, then? Willow?"

"Oh, please!" Spike gave the girl an incredulous look. "Asking for advice about boys from a woman who gave up on men and joined the comfortable-shoe set?"

"Okay, you've got a point. Xander's a guy, so he's kinda out, and besides, have you ever seen the look he gives guys who get, like, within ten feet of me? He's like Mr. Slayer."

"Aside from which, he's involved with a former vengeance demon who, by the way, looks like she's about to drop-kick him." Spike chuckled maliciously. "That'd be amusing."

"Anya's always bitching about something," Dawn said dismissively. "So who do you think I should talk to about my hypothetical future love life?"

"Easy," said Spike. "Me."

"You? As in - you?"

"Hey, I kept it together with Dru for 120 years, and she was completely bonkers. Tell me that isn't commitment."

Dawn sighed. "I'm just looking for a date, not 120 years. I'm not a vampire." A thought struck her. "Hey, when you were human, what were you like?"

Spike took another drag before answering. "Oh, I was a bad boy, all right. No one your sis would've approved of. Well, not for you, at least."

Before Dawn could reply, a car screeched to a halt in front of them. The

passenger-side door opened, and out stepped a huge being dressed in a long, brown coat of some suede-like animal hide. The demon's skin was dark gray, with deep cracks in the places where an aging human might sport wrinkles.

The creature stepped forward towards them. From Dawn's perspective, it appeared to tower at least eighteen inches above Spike.

"I'll take the girl," it boomed in a deeper-than-human voice.

"Run home," Spike growled at Dawn out of the side of his mouth. She turned and started to dash up the street.

"Sch'sek demon, eh?" Spike said to the large humanoid, casually circling to the left as Dawn ran off to the right. "What brought you down from the frozen parts? Maybe a trip to the outlet mall, buy a jacket that doesn't smell like dead goat?"

The demon's only response was a guttural "RRRRAAAAAAGH!" as it charged Spike.

Spike's face morphed into its other-than-human shape. Nonetheless, the vampire tried to maintain his control. His chances in combat against a Sch'sek were about as good as his chances of getting Buffy to dance the can-can for him, but all he needed was to keep it busy while Dawn got away.

The demon snapped its right arm out straight, and suddenly six feet of what looked like steel cable extended from its wrist. It whipped the cable horizontally at Spike, who leaped back to avoid it. The creature swung again with its left arm, extending a second length of cable as it did so, and caught Spike around the ankle. The demon yanked its arm back sharply and threw the vampire to the ground.

Spike tried to roll away and get to his feet. The moment he lifted himself up on his hands and knees, the Sch'sek's cable-whip hit him hard across the back. The impact knocked Spike back onto his stomach; the welt stung so badly that his entire back went numb.

The vampire tried to roll over so he could see the next strike coming. He did, right before it hit him across the ribs, breaking several of them. Spike rolled into a ball as the Sch'sek lashed him again and again. By the time the creature was finished, Spike was unconscious. Trickles of blood leaked from every ugly laceration.

All of this took place in the time it took Dawn to run less than a block. Before she even reached the next street, a tall, slim, blond form unfolded itself from the car. "Stop," it said, very softly.

And Dawn did.

Coolly, the blond woman tossed down the cigarette she'd been smoking and crushed it under her heel. Then she returned her attention to Dawn, who was frozen in place.

"Come here, Dawn," she said. Stiffly, the girl turned and walked mechanically to where the woman was standing. The blond stepped aside, indicating the open car door. "Get in."

Eyes wide and unfocused, yet reflecting deep horror, Dawn obeyed. The blond woman fastened a seatbelt around her. "We don't want you hurt, after all. You're going to make us all very rich." She got in beside Dawn and tossed an irritated glance out the door. "Kogue!" The demon turned his gaze away from Spike's body, which was now hanging by its neck from one of Kogue's wrist cables. "You've had your fun; either stake it or drop it. It's time to go."

Spike's limp body fell to the ground as the demon released him. Kogue climbed into the passenger-side seat, and the vampire in the driver's seat shifted the car into gear.

In the back seat, Dawn still sat perfectly still, spine straight. Only her eyes moved as the blond woman leaned in toward her.

"Hello, Dawn. My name is Nicole D'Armand," she said. Her voice held an accent Dawn thought must be French. "You find your current state uncomfortable, no? I suggest you remember the sensation, because this is what will happen anytime you refuse to do as you're told."

Dawn slumped as she was released from whatever had held her. "Wh-who are you? What do you want? What did you do to Spike?"

"Spike?" Nicole's blue eyes narrowed. "The vampire. Yes, Mr. Kogue had a little fun with him. Actually, we most likely saved you from being a vampire's dinner . . . but no, we didn't, did we?" The woman paused, examining Dawn's face. "You know him. He's your friend, your . . . protector. How very interesting."

"Should we go back and kill him?" asked Kogue from the front.

"No," said Nicole firmly. "It isn't worth the risk. The Slayer will realize her sister is gone soon, and we can't afford to be seen by her. The vampire is of no importance."

"My sister--" began Dawn, but she was cut off by Nicole.

"Will never know where you are. And neither will you, cherie. Time for you to sleep. Sleep, and do not awaken until I tell you to."

The questions that filled Dawn's mind drifted away as her eyelids shut, and her head fell backward as the car continued on, driving out of Sunnydale.

"Buffy, you're gonna wear a hole in the carpet," said Willow, looking up from her iBook. "Why with the pacing?"

"She should be back," said Buffy, glancing out the window again. "She said she'd be back before dark. And it's dinnertime."

"Xander hasn't even gotten back with the pizza," Willow pointed out. "Dawn probably just got caught up in the studying, you know? All that math and English, she just lost track of time."

"I think you're mistaking Dawn for you, honey," said Tara, coming into the living room and depositing a cup of hot chocolate by her lover's elbow. The witches shared a smile.

Buffy abruptly turned from the window and grabbed up her coat. "I'm going to go find her. She shouldn't be out past dark."

A worried frown appeared between Willow's eyes. "Um, Buffy? Maybe you could just call over to her friend's house and find out if she's left yet."

Buffy paused, coat in hand. "I guess." Tossing the coat over the back of a chair, she went into the kitchen to find the phone.

Willow and Tara shared another look, this one tinged with uncertainty and even a little fear. Since Buffy's return, the Slayer had shown little emotion except where Dawn was concerned. It seemed to the witches that she'd built her new life around Dawn, slaying, and very little else.

"Pizza!" announced Xander, entering the house. "Fully loaded, my friends, and wha-?" Buffy practically bowled him over on her way out of the house.

"Buffy, wait!" cried Willow.

The Slayer turned, face pale. "Mrs. Nichols said Dawn left twenty minutes ago. She should be back. I'm finding her."

Xander hastily set the pizza down. "Waitasec, Buff. You may need backup." Buffy paused long enough to let him catch up. "Where we headed?"

"To the Nichols place," said Buffy. "If something happened, it happened on the way back from there. Where's Anya?"

"She and Giles are working late at the Magic Box. Something about inventory."

Two blocks passed in near-silence. Then Buffy spotted a dark lump lying on the ground ahead of them.

To be more specific: a dark, leather-covered lump with a white head.

"Spike!" the Slayer gasped, and ran to the vampire's body. Turning him over, she saw that his clothes were torn nearly to shreds, exposing long, angry red welts all over his torso and legs. Here and there, blood trickled from splits in his skin, and he had something that looked like rope burn all around his neck. It was the worst he'd looked since he'd been beaten by Glory.

"Buffy," said Xander. The Slayer looked at her friend, who pointed toward another object lying on the ground: Dawn's backpack.

Spike's blue eyes fluttered open. "Buffy?"

Buffy's eyes connected with the vampire's as he lifted his head painfully from the ground. He looked around briefly, then back at the Slayer.

"Where's Dawn?" they both asked.

Chapter 3

Nicole D'Armand passed a hand over her eyes. The capture hadn't been easy. Controlling Dawn like that was extraordinarily difficult, even though the girl's age had made it easier. Nicole was just glad the slumber she'd forced Dawn into didn't need to be actively maintained. The telepath relaxed into her seat and took advantage of the time it took to reach their destination to meditate.

Tonight, there was no room for failure.

"Time to wake up."

Dawn's eyes flew open as she was yanked out of sleep. She gasped in a breath, completely disoriented at awakening in a darkened car, and it took a moment for memory to set in.

Oh, yeah, she thought hazily. Been kidnapped again.

As that thought sank in, panic grasped at her, and she fought hard to keep it down. The same feeling of total helplessness that had enveloped her when Glory had taken her was simmering just under the surface of her mind, and she fought against it the same way she had before.

Buffy will save me, she told herself. She won't let anything hurt me.

The doors of the car were suddenly opening, and Dawn looked across at the woman sitting opposite her. Nicole, she remembered.

Nicole was beautiful, no other word for it. Very tall, with soft blond hair surrounding elegant features and cold blue eyes. She was all in white: white leather pants, white cashmere turtleneck, white jacket. As Dawn looked over Nicole, the Frenchwoman looked over Dawn. She didn't seem terribly impressed.

"Where am I?" demanded Dawn, voice tight with fear and growing anger.

Nicole smiled, perfectly at ease. "My employer wishes you to be kept in the dark for now, and he pays me very well to make his wishes come true." She opened her own door. "Come. He is most anxious to meet you." Dawn didn't move. "Unless, of course," Nicole went on offhandedly, "you would prefer that I move you. Did you like that feeling?"

The memory of being trapped, a prisoner while her body moved around her, was enough to make Dawn open her door. She stepped out into a dark carport and found herself face-to-face with the creature called Kogue before she could even begin to look for escape routes.

"I wouldn't recommend you irritate Mr. Kogue," said Nicole. "He's been known to make snacks out of little things like you. He will escort the two of us to meet my employer."

Seeing no alternative and having no idea if Nicole was telling the truth about Kogue's dining preferences, Dawn followed Nicole through a door, then up a staircase. There were no windows, and Dawn realized with alarm that she had no idea how long she'd been asleep. For all she knew, they could be in another state.

They came to a door, which Kogue opened, and Nicole ushered Dawn in. The room was small and cozy. The walls were paneled in wood, the carpet deep and lush, the lighting soft, and the furniture downright luxurious. Nicole spread herself out on an overstuffed couch as Kogue shut the door and positioned himself in front of it. Dawn, meanwhile, looked at the man sitting in an armchair in the middle of the room. Across from him was another armchair, with a coffee table between the chairs bearing a silver tea service, a pitcher of ice water, and a platter of cookies.

The man didn't seem too frightening at first glance. He was about Giles' age, not bad looking, with a little silver highlighting his dark hair. It was hard to judge his height in the chair, but he looked to be fairly tall. He was wearing a suit, probably an expensive one, and Dawn noticed he had a ring with a large ruby on his right hand, but nothing on his left.

"Hello, Dawn," said the man in a warm, rich baritone. "It's good to finally meet you."

"Who are you?" asked Dawn, trying not to let her voice shake.

"You can call me Lucas for now. Won't you sit?" He gestured at the seat opposite him.

"What if I don't want to?"

Lucas sighed. "Dawn, I realize this is difficult and, yes, frightening for you, but I really am trying to make things as pleasant as possible."

Dawn blinked, a little puzzled by his attitude. "Then let me go home."

Lucas shook his head almost regretfully. "I'm afraid that's not a possibility. You, Dawn, are the answer to a most difficult puzzle for me, and I'm going to need to keep you around for quite some time. Nicole, my dear, tell me what you see when you look at her."

Nicole cocked her head at Dawn. "I see energy. Bright energy surrounded by a flesh-and-blood shell."

Dawn's stomach clenched as a wave of panic hit her. Oh, God, she thought, they want the Key!

She turned and ran to the door, heedless of Kogue's presence. It was locked. Frantically, heart in her throat, she searched the room for any other way out. None presented itself.

Lucas called her name several times, but Dawn was too far gone to even hear him. Finally, he turned to Nicole. "My dear, would you . . . ?"

Nicole turned her gaze to Dawn.

Stop.

Dawn stopped, right where she was. She felt like she'd been hit with a powerful tranquilizer. All the fear left along with her other emotions.

"That's better," said Lucas. "Now, come here and have a seat." Numbly, Dawn obeyed. "Would you like something?" asked Lucas, indicating the coffee table.

"Water," Dawn murmured.

Lucas poured her a glass, and she sipped at it until her throat felt somewhat less like sandpaper. She was still feeling detached from her emotions, but whatever Nicole had done seemed to be abating. "What do you want?" she asked.

"All in good time, Dawn. You're a special girl, with special friends, and I'm going to err on the side of caution for now with what I tell you. Nicole, you are keeping an eye out, aren't you?"

"Of course," said the Frenchwoman. Her eyes were distant.

"Good. As I was saying, Dawn, you're a special girl, and I need you for a project I've been developing. Now don't worry; you won't be hurt. In fact, you'll be treated very well while you're here. Just cooperate, and we'll all get what we want."

"I want to go home," Dawn said bluntly. "You should let me go. When my sister finds out where I am, she's going to kick your ass into next week."

Lucas smiled and shook his head. "I'm afraid your sister won't be able to find you. The truth is, Dawn, that no one else knows what we're doing, or even where we are."

Before Dawn could reply to that, Nicole cried out, clutching her head.

"Cordelia!"

Cordelia had been sitting at her desk, eating dinner and pawing through a backlog of paperwork, when she screamed and began to thrash in her chair. Angel was closest - he ran and caught the chosen messenger of the Powers That Be just before she could fall face-first into her tuna salad.

Within seconds, Wesley, Gunn, and Fred all surrounded her. Wesley grabbed a note pad as the others held Cordelia in place to keep her from hurting herself in her vision-induced convulsions.

Suddenly, it was over. Cordelia opened her eyes. Immediately, she began tilting to the left, and Angel only just caught her before she fell out of her chair. As the vampire straightened Cordelia back up, Wesley looked at her face. Her eyes were strangely distant, as though she were watching something on the other side of the room. Wesley looked behind him but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Cordelia," he said, "what are you looking at?"

"The staircase," she said.

"Why?"

"Because it's what's right in front of me, and I think I'm-" She paused, blinking hard. "-going to hurl if I take my eyes off it."

"Tell us what's happening," Angel said.

"It's Dawn," Cordelia said queasily, never moving her eyes.

"Actually, it won't be dawn for another eight hours and forty-three minutes," Fred said helpfully.

"No - DAWN," Cordelia explained, "as in Buffy's little sister. She's here in L.A., and she's in trouble. But..."

"What?" Angel said.

"I...I don't know. I'm all dizzy, like I'm on a Tilt-a-Whirl. But without the fun."

"Did you see anything that made sense?" Wesley asked.

"A little house in Malibu." She grabbed the pen and pad out of Wesley's hands and began writing in awkward, diagonal lines across the paper. "Here's the address," she said, thrusting the pad back at Wesley.

"And now," Cordelia said with detached calm, "I have to go throw up." She rose from her chair, took one step, and immediately fell forward. Angel and Gunn caught her and carried her to the nearest bathroom with amazing speed. Within moments, Wesley could hear the echo of retching sounds off the bathroom tile.

A minute later, the three emerged from the washroom. Cordelia seemed to have regained her balance, although Angel and Gunn walked close to her sides, like spotters with a gymnast.

"What happened?" Wesley asked with both curiosity and concern.

"It was weird," Cordelia said. "It was like...having two visions at once. You know how, on a bad TV, you can be watching one channel, but see a little bit of another one at the same time? It was like that, if the TV were spinning at ninety miles per hour and driving a big ice pick into my brain."

"But this address you wrote down," Wesley asked. "Is it accurate?"

"I think so," Cordelia said.

"You're not sure?" Gunn asked. "Powers aren't usually wrong about that stuff."

"No, it's just..." Cordelia started. "I can't explain it. But I saw Dawn, and I know she's scared. Especially of a short-haired blonde woman, and some kind of big demon. And there was this smell...roses, I think. I also got a vague feeling that you should hurry."

"Okay," Angel said. "Fred, stay here with Cordy, see if you can find any information on this address."

"Standard weapons for everyone else," Wesley added. "Let's go."

"So what do you think is the deal?" Gunn asked, frowning. He was in the back seat of the convertible, leaning forward to talk to Angel in the passenger's seat. "These guys tryin' to get to the Slayer through her little sis?"

"Maybe," Angel said. "Unless they took her because she's the Key."

"Another hell-god trying to go home, like that Willow girl told us about?" Gunn said. "'Cause if it is, I kinda wish I'd brought a bigger axe."

"That seems unlikely," Wesley interjected from the driver's seat. "A very particular alignment of stars and planets is needed to use Dawn to create a dimensional gateway. That isn't due to happen again for another thirty years or so."

"Whatever they want, we're not going to let them have it," Angel said. He patted the Viking short sword under his coat as Wesley turned into the driveway of a small, two-story house. It was a tasteful little residence, with a white stucco exterior and a Spanish tile roof. There was no garage, just a carport next to the house.

"No car," Gunn noted as he lifted his homemade battle axe out of the back seat.

"Maybe they don't get out much," Angel responded. He walked up to the front door and, with no hesitation, kicked it open. Flicking his eyes side to side, he walked in, Wesley and Gunn close behind.

"Someone was here," Angel commented while the other men fanned out. "I can smell a man's cologne, and something...I don't know, something familiar."

"Well, it's not food going bad," Gunn called from the kitchen, just off to the right of the doorway. He was peering into the fridge. "Everything in here is fresh. I think somebody left here in a big hurry."

"And they're not coming back," Wesley said. "Or Angel couldn't have entered uninvited. Nonetheless, we should check upstairs."

With Angel in the lead, they went up the stairs to the second floor. There were four doors, all closed. One had a lock rather conspicuously fixed to the outside of the door. Angel twisted the small knob on the lock and shoved the door open. Inside the room was a small bedroom with a single twin bed and a desk, on which sat a 12" television. There was also an empty dresser.

Gunn and Wesley checked the other three doors, revealing two more bedrooms, a bathroom, and what looked like a study or parlor of sorts with a few chairs and a coffee table. The first bedroom contained a queen-size bed, neatly made, with a smooth, satiny blue coverlet. Otherwise, however, the room was a mess. The drawers were pulled out from the dresser, and the closet door stood open with the light still on. The drawers and closet were all empty.

The other bedroom was in similar condition, the closet and dresser empty. Even the bed, also queen-sized, was bare, with no sheets, blankets or pillows. A strong smell hung in the air.

Gunn sniffed. "That's nasty," he said, grimacing. "Like somebody started a goat farm in a greasy old garage."

"That's the smell I recognize," Angel said. "I still can't place it, though. Something demonic."

"It certainly isn't roses," Wesley noted.

Wesley glanced about the room and spied something in the wastebasket. It was a brown glass bottle, unlabeled, with an oily residue coating the inside.

"What is that?" Gunn asked.

"I'm not certain," Wesley replied. "We'd best take it back to the hotel for analysis."

They made a thorough search of the rest of the house and met up again downstairs, in the front hall. Gunn carried a yellow legal pad.

"This doesn't make any sense," Angel said. "Cordelia said Dawn was here, but Dawn's never even been in that bedroom upstairs."

"How can you tell?" Wesley asked.

"She smells a lot like Buffy," Angel answered. "I'd know it if she was staying in there."

"Ah," Wesley said.

"And she would never have made the bed, unless they put a gun to her head." He chuckled. "And then she'd have to think about it for a while."

"What else did those vampire nostrils tell you?" Gunn asked.

"The man who whose cologne I smelled wasn't staying here. There was a woman in the third bedroom, though; I could smell Evyan skin cream on the sheets."

"Coming from anybody else, that would sound creepy," Gunn commented.

"Creepier still is the fact that Cordelia's vision was wrong," Wesley said.

"That's never happened before," Angel said. "Except-"

"-when someone was messing with her mind," Gunn finished.

"But someone WAS here," Wesley said. "A woman and a demon, who intended to keep somebody locked in that room upstairs. All of that is consistent with Cordelia's vision."

"Right," Gunn said, "it's just twenty minutes out of date. But I did find

this." He held up the yellow legal pad. "It was in a desk drawer up in the study."

"It's blank," Angel said.

Gunn leaned in. "Yeah, but look -- somebody wrote on the page before this one and then tore it off."

"Quite so," Wesley agreed. He took a pencil out of his shirt pocket and began rubbing the point lightly over the surface of the pad. Sure enough, it was soon possible to see that a long string of numbers had been written on the previous page. At the top of the page was written, "Tesorieri, p. 23".

"Mean anything to you?" Gunn asked his two companions. They both shook their heads.

"We'd better get back to the hotel," Angel said. "Maybe Cordy and Fred have found something useful about the house."

"And we can check out Wes' bottle of demon grease," Gunn added.

Later, standing in the makeshift forensic laboratory that Wesley and Fred had assembled in one of the rooms of the Hyperion, Wesley held up the bottle and pronounced, "It's naftegha."

"Well, that clears up everything," Gunn said.

"It's a kind of polish for organic metals," Fred said, gazing into a heavy volume in the far corner of the lab. "Demons that have metal parts use it. Prevents oxidation."

"So what kind of demons would be Simonizing themselves with this stuff?" Gunn asked.

Just then, Angel walked into the room and said, "A Sch'sek."

"Is that the name of the demon, or are you just trying to hock one?" Gunn said.

"I finally remembered where I know that smell from," Angel answered. "Boone."

"Who?" Wesley asked.

"A demon I fought a couple of times. The last time was back when...when we weren't working together."

"You fought a Sch'sek and survived?" Wesley said, eyebrows raised.

"Not exactly. Boone was a half-breed - part human. And I barely beat him. If this thing that has Dawn is a full-blooded Sch'sek, we could be in for a hell of a fight."

Gunn started towards the door. "That's it," he said. "I'm getting a bigger axe."

"We did discover one other thing," Wesley said, causing Gunn to turn around. "Tesorieri is an Italian surname. A look through our library revealed that there was a Fausto Tesorieri who was an alchemist in the sixteenth century. A rather secretive fellow, he was known to keep his most important notes in a numerical code."

"What was he keeping notes on?" Angel asked as Cordelia came in through the door behind him.

"It seems he was quite ambitious," Wesley said. "He tried to do what dozens of his predecessors had failed to accomplish in lifetimes of research."

Angel nodded, understanding. "He tried to turn lead into gold." Fred, still sitting in the corner, looked down at the floor pensively, but said nothing.

"Precisely. Cordelia," Wesley said, noticing her by the door. "Any news on the house?"

"That depends on your definition of 'news'," Cordelia replied. "The house is owned by Trans-Oceanic Imports, a company that doesn't import anything because it doesn't exist. Whoever bought the house used the dummy corporation to cover their tracks, leaving us with a big steaming pile of nothing."

"Not nothing," Wesley said. "We know that someone out there has Buffy's sister, that they are interested in the work of Fausto Tesorieri, and that they have at least one Sch'sek demon in their employ. Therefore, I suggest that Fred and I attempt to decipher these numbers, while Angel and Gunn use their contacts to find out who in the area might have hired the Sch'sek. And Cordelia, you have the most important task."

Cordelia raised her eyebrows slightly and looked askance at Wesley.

"You must call Buffy."

"She deserves to know that Dawn is alive," Angel said.

"And," Wesley added, "it would do no harm to have the assistance of a Slayer."

Chapter 4

"Welcome home, Sir."

Lucas Hayden gently helped Nicole D'Armand out of the car as his butler held the door for them. "Thank you, Simmons. I didn't expect to be back so soon, but circumstances have changed."

"I need a drink," muttered Nicole, one hand on her forehead.

Hayden turned to Simmons again. "Tell Mrs. Abbey to open a bottle of wine in my den. Is there a room ready for our newest guest?"

Simmons' eyes flicked to where Kogue was lifting Dawn's unconscious form out of the car. "Yes, Sir. Everything is prepared just as you ordered." The butler turned away and spoke briefly with someone on a small cordless phone.

"Excellent, Simmons. Kogue, take our guest up to her room. She'll need to sleep off the chloroform." Hayden slipped Nicole's hand under his right arm. "Will you be all right, Nic?"

"I'm a little dizzy," said the Frenchwoman. "We have to talk about this, Lucas."

Simmons escorted the two to Hayden's private den and opened the door for them. Inside, a cheery fire was going in the fireplace and a bottle of wine and two glasses sat on a coffee table. Simmons withdrew, and Hayden helped Nicole into one chair. He took the other for himself after pouring the wine, which Nicole gratefully sipped.

"What happened?" asked Hayden after they'd both relaxed for a few minutes.

Nicole sighed. "I was keeping my mind open, looking for any mental activity concerning the girl in the immediate area, and all of a sudden, I-it felt like a lightning bolt hit my brain. Someone received a vision that gave away the girl's location and very nearly our identities."

"Received?" Hayden looked at Nicole curiously. "That's an odd choice of words."

"It's accurate," stated Nicole. "Someone received knowledge from something . . . other. There are powerful forces at work here, Lucas." The Frenchwoman's eyes went distant. "A god was destroyed for the child; those who love her will not be easily discouraged. We must be careful."

Hayden considered this. "Have you been having dreams?"

"Yes." Nicole leaned back, closing her eyes. "I cannot make sense out of half of what I see in them. The girl, blinding light, two men striding out of the far past, a warrior woman with dead eyes, and a door slamming shut in my face." She opened her eyes, looking irritated. "Merde! What good is precognition if I can't understand it?"

"Your visions and dreams helped us find our Key, Nic. Don't sell yourself short. I'm sure all will be clear in time." He looked at the psychic compassionately. "Get some sleep. If Mrs. Abbey's up to her usual efficiency, your room should be aired out and smelling lovely-the roses are simply divine this year. That new trellis is a work of art."

Nicole smiled wearily. "Sleep is a very good idea. I'll see you sometime tomorrow, then."

"Yes, I'm hoping to talk to everyone then-particularly Cassio and Mr. Rayne. Cassio's made some real progress."

Nicole's nose wrinkled. "I despise that man."

"The feeling, I assure you, is mutual," Hayden chuckled. "But he is the best, even if he is a bit of a smartass."

"A bit?" Nicole gave Hayden a meaningful look. "He's very smart, and he's a very big ass. Besides, he's hard to read." She pouted a bit.

Hayden shook his head, grinning. "Try to put up with him for a little while longer, my dear. At least until he's finished the translations."

Nicole drank the rest of the wine in her glass and stood. "Do you really think this will work?"

Hayden shrugged and rose as she did. "It's worth a try. If it does work, the profits will more than make up for all the trouble we've gone to."

"And if it doesn't?"

"We can still come out ahead." Hayden smiled thoughtfully. "After all, the Key is a highly valuable commodity in any number of dimensions. Tell me, how did you and Kogue get along as housemates?"

Nicole grinned wryly. "Swimmingly. I stayed out of his mind, and he tried to kill the goats quietly when he went for a midnight snack."

Lucas laughed heartily at that. "Good to hear. Sleep well, Nicole, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Lucas." Nicole left the room, and her employer sat down to do some thinking.

Buffy had done everything but call out the National Guard. She had the entire Scooby Gang combing Sunnydale after interrogating Spike right down to the very last detail. He had joined the rest, muttering about what he was going to do to the Sch'sek that had turned him into pulp. Willow and Tara had already tried a locator spell, to no avail.

"Whoever took her knows how to ward," Willow informed the Slayer regretfully. "Tara and I couldn't find a thing. Maybe we could try breaking the wards."

Giles spoke up. "That's very dangerous. If you don't know what went into the wards, you could end up doing a great deal of damage."

"Well, we've gotta do something," argued Willow.

Buffy tuned them out. The emptiness inside her was threatening to eat her alive.

"You okay, Slayer?" asked Spike.

"I've got to find her, Spike," said Buffy, not looking at him. "If she's - if something happens to her . . ."

Spike could fill in the rest of the sentence for himself.

Suddenly, Xander and Anya came running up. Xander had his cell phone held out. "Buffy, you wanna take this call," he said, handing her the phone.

A little confused, Buffy accepted it. "Hello?"

"Buffy? Thank God. I've been calling literally everywhere. You've all got frantic messages on your machines, just so you know," said the person on the other end.

It took Buffy a moment to recognize the voice, and another moment to respond. "Cordelia?"

"It's me," confirmed the young woman. "All the way from L.A."

Nonplused, Buffy said, "Look, Cordy, I don't mean to be rude, but I've got a serious-"

"Your little sister's missing," interrupted Cordelia. "I know. I got a vision."

"You did? Where is she? Is she all right?"

"Yes, and two 'I don't knows.' I got a vision that she was in a specific house in L.A., but by the time the boys got there, whoever had been there was gone. Angel says they couldn't have been gone more than ten minutes." Cordelia sighed. "We're trying to chase down whoever owned the house. Angel thought you should know about it."

Buffy took this in, nodding. "Thanks. I'll be down there in a few hours."

"All right. We'll see you then."

Buffy clicked off Xander's phone. "I need to get to L.A., fast."

The phone conversation had attracted the attention of the rest of the gang. "What's up?" asked Willow.

"Cordy got a vision. Dawn was in L.A. tonight, just a little while ago. That's where I'm going," summed up Buffy.

Both Giles and Xander offered to drive at exactly the same moment. Buffy looked at both of them, then turned to Giles. "Let's go."

Spike was right on her heels as they turned. Buffy looked at him.

"Hey, when you find the bloke who did this to me," said Spike, indicating his bruises, "I wanna be there to help you cut him to pieces."

"Spike, you remember Angel, don't you?" asked Buffy. "Your sire? The guy you can't stand no matter where his soul is?"

"For Little Bit's sake, I'll put up with the poofter," said Spike. Buffy raised an eyebrow. "I mean it! You won't hear word one from me."

"I'll hold you to that," warned Buffy. "And you'd better believe that if you and Angel start squabbling and delay us finding Dawn by even a second, there will be pain."

"Fine by me," said Spike with a hint of a wolfish grin. Buffy gave him a look.

"Buff," said Xander. Buffy turned to him. "We're coming, too. All of us."

Buffy looked a bit shocked. "You guys don't have to come. This could take a while."

"She's ours too, Buffy," said Tara. "We cared for her all summer. Please don't ask us to stay behind."

There was silence for a moment. Then Buffy smiled tightly. "Okay. Guess we'll all invade Angel's place."

"She's coming," announced Cordelia as she hung up the phone. "You were right, Wesley. Ten bucks says she's not alone, too."

"I wouldn't take the bet," said Angel. "She'll need someone to drive her, probably Xander or Giles. I'd put my money on Giles."

"Giles? Coming here?" Wesley went a little pale.

"Hasn't she got her driver's license yet?" asked Cordelia.

Angel gave a short laugh. "Not the last I heard. I think she feels like Sunnydale's dangerous enough without her driving."

"Slayer girl's on her way?" asked Gunn.

"Yep. What fun." Cordelia started to walk around the desk, then suddenly tilted violently to the left. Angel grabbed her before she could fall. "Whoa. That was interesting."

"What is it?" asked Angel, setting her upright.

Cordelia shook her head and nearly fell over again. This time, Angel kept his grip on her shoulders after he grabbed her. "Vision flash. I saw Dawn in front of a window. No, I don't know where. And I'm dizzy again."

Wesley came over, looking concerned. "Is it part of the vision, or do you think it's a side effect?"

"I can't tell." There was unwonted vulnerability in Cordelia's voice. "I-I just think there may be more to the vision, but I can't figure it out." She winced. "Just wish the dizzy would go away."

"You should lie down," said Angel.

Cordelia sighed impatiently. "I don't need to lie down, Angel. I'm fine." She shook his hands off her shoulders and took two steps away before starting to list again. Angel caught her for the third time. "Sitting down would be okay, I guess," she murmured, and Angel steered her to the couch.

All the time he was doing so, he held Wesley's worried gaze with his own.

Giles broke almost every law of the road between Sunnydale and L.A. Xander's car managed to cling to his bumper, but only just. A little over an hour after setting out, both cars pulled up outside the Hyperion.

"Giles! You drive like a wild man," Xander commented as he got out of his car. Willow and Tara emerged from the back seats, both looking a little worse for wear.

"Yes, well, I thought speed was of the essence," said Giles.

"I think I left a little of my essence on the passenger-side seat," said a shell-shocked Buffy. "C'mon. Let's go find out what Angel's crew knows."

The group made its way up the front walk, and Buffy entered the hotel first. Cordelia stood up from the couch.

"Buffy! And . . . everyone else." Cordelia's smile froze. "Good to see all of you!"

"They kinda insisted on coming along," said Buffy. "It's Dawn."

Three tall male figures entered the room. One was instantly recognizable as Angel. One was a young, good-looking African-American man no one recognized except Willow. The third was vaguely familiar.

Xander blinked. "Wesley?" he asked, almost not realizing he was speaking aloud.

The former Watcher didn't look anything like what most of them remembered. He was in a T-shirt and jeans, for one thing, and his hair was pleasantly mussed rather than glued into place. His bare arms were wiry with muscle. It wasn't just physical changes, though-something intangible was different about the whole way he held himself. He strode forward, straight to Buffy

"Buffy. Mr. Giles. I'm glad you got here so fast," he said, shaking both their hands. "You'll want to discuss Dawn, of course. Please come in." He indicated the unfamiliar man. "This is Charles Gunn, and . . ." Wesley's forehead crinkled. "Where's Fred?"

A girl poked her head out of the office doorway. "I-I didn't expect so many people," she said in a soft Southwestern accent.

"It's all right," Wesley reassured her gently, holding out a hand. "They're good people, Fred." Cautiously, the girl called Fred walked out of the office and to Wesley. She was tall and very thin, fragile-looking and elfin. Pretty, though, with her huge brown eyes and long, curly hair.

Angel's eyes, meanwhile, had found Buffy's. A nod passed between them along with a look that said more than words could have. Then Angel's eyes went past her shoulder-and widened with shock and outrage at what they found there.

"What's he doing here?" Angel asked suddenly, harshly.

Spike stepped forward. "Hello, Peaches. How've you been?"

"Buffy, why is he here?" Angel demanded again.

"Spike was the last person with Dawn when she was kidnapped," Buffy explained hastily.

"This is Spike?" asked Wesley incredulously.

"Oh, God," moaned Cordelia, sitting back down.

"You know, I've already got a theory about what happened to Dawn," said Angel acidly.

"Angel, Spike did not hurt her," Buffy insisted.

"Who's this guy?" Gunn asked Wesley.

"Spike. Angel's his grandsire," answered the ex-Watcher.

"More of Angel's vamp family. Just what we need around here," said Gunn, rolling his eyes.

Angel continued to glare at Spike. Palpable animosity flowed between them, restrained only by Buffy's presence.

She decided to try playing peacemaker. "Look, I know you two, well, hate each other, but could we keep a little perspective? Dawn, remember?"

Spike's face softened at her tone. "I'll do my part."

"Like you care," growled Angel.

The blond vampire gestured at his face. "Hey, I got these bruises tryin' to protect the little chit!"

"Watch what you're calling Dawn!" squawked Xander.

Angel surveyed Spike's injuries lazily. "It's a good look for you."

"Good look for you, too," sneered Spike. "Remember what happened last time we saw each other?"

"As I recall, the last time I saw you, Oz was holding you at crossbow point while your torture demon pal screwed you over," Angel said. "I believe you ended up back in Sunnydale, ringless and fangless."

Angel's tone sent Spike over the edge, and he was instantly at his grandsire's throat. Angel's expression remained contemptuous as he and Spike struggled.

Then they were violently thrown apart. Sprawled on the floor, they looked up to see a furious Buffy standing between them.

"That's enough! From both of you! Dawn is way the hell more important than your vampire machismo. I swear, you two get into it with the fighting and the posturing, I will beat you both senseless."

"That a promise, luv?" asked Spike. Angel growled fiercely.

"Spike . . ." Buffy warned. The younger vampire subsided, climbing to his feet. The Slayer turned to Angel, who was standing again. "Angel, I know you and Spike don't exactly get along, but please, for Dawn's sake, would you try?"

Angel pried his glare away from Spike, took a deep breath, and looked at Buffy. "All right."

"Boy, howdy," commented Fred.

"I believe I'll second that," said Wesley.

Buffy pulled together the tattered shreds of her temper and looked back at the crew of Angel Investigations. "Okay, to everyone who doesn't know, this is Giles, Xander, Anya, Willow, Tara, and Spike. Say 'hi,' guys."

"Hi," said Xander, Anya, Tara, and Willow in perfect unison.

"What precisely do we know?" asked Giles.

"Not much, I'm afraid," said Wesley. "We found the house that was in Cordelia's vision, but whoever was there had cleared out literally minutes before we entered. We've determined that one of the inhabitants was a Sch'sek demon, that the ownership of the house is nearly untraceable, and we also found a reference to a particular alchemist-Fausto Tesorieri."

"I'd lay odds on the Sch'sek being the same one I fought in Sunnydale," put in Spike.

"You say you couldn't find who owned the house?" asked Giles.

"Not for lack of trying," said Wesley, sounding vaguely defensive. "The ownership has been filtered through a dummy corporation. We're still looking into it."

"I could go rough up Gavin Park," offered Angel semi-seriously. "If nothing else, it'd be fun."

"The last thing we need is to bring Wolfram & Hart into this," Wesley said. "Of course, that's assuming they're not involved already. Which I sincerely hope they're not."

"Wolfram & Hart?" questioned Giles. "Aren't they lawyers?"

"Evil lawyers," said Cordelia, standing up. "They like screwing with Angel, and he likes beating them up. Especially the short ones." She took a step toward the group and went white. "Oh, God . . ."

Angel was there in a flash, pushing her back down onto the couch and crouching in front of her. "Cordy, what's happening? This isn't normal."

The Seer was breathing deeply, eyes closed. "I keep getting flashes from the vision, and every time, I get dizzy again. I think I hate this even more than usual."

Wesley walked over, face pensive. "Could it be something Dawn is feeling?"

"No. She's scared, not dizzy."

"Scared?" Buffy sat down beside Cordelia on the couch. "She's scared?"

"Yeah." Cordelia took another deep breath before opening her eyes. "I could feel her emotions pretty clearly. Still do, in fact. I just wish I . . . I wish I could figure out what's happening. Why this vision's making me so dizzy. There's something . . ." She closed her eyes again, concentrating. The Scooby Gang clustered off to the side of the couch, watching curiously.

After a few moments, Cordelia began to speak again. "I see her at the house I saw. She's in a small room with the blond woman, the demon, and someone else. A man in a suit. A really nice suit, as a matter of fact. I see her face there, and then . . ." Cordelia gulped, going white again.

Angel grasped her upper arms, watching her face with concern. "Cordy," he said softly.

Xander and Willow traded a surprised glance as they watched Angel and Cordelia. The warmth and concern that flowed between vampire and Seer was almost visible, and very unlike how the two had behaved toward each other in Sunnydale.

Cordelia held onto one of Angel's arms, leaning so far forward her forehead was almost touching his. "I'm watching her face, and it's like the whole world spins around, and now she's in front of a window. I see her . . . oh, God, she's beautiful! The light, she's like glass and there's light inside her, this pure, green light."

"The Key," whispered Tara. "That's the light I saw when . . ."

Willow put an arm around her lover as Tara trailed off.

"What else do you see, Cordelia?" asked Wesley. "Do you see out the window?"

"It's open," said the Seer. "It's up high, too. Dawn's looking out of the window. There are city lights far in the distance and a little below, and she can see a garden. She smells roses. She's looking out, and she's alone, and she's so scared . . ."

Angel moved his hands from Cordelia's upper arms to her shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. "Easy, Cordy. Come back out of it. Come back."

Cordelia visibly pulled herself together, breathing deeply and straightening up before opening her eyes. A single tear leaked out the corner of one eye and was surreptitiously wiped away.

Xander leaned closer to Willow, eyeing Angel and Cordelia suspiciously. "Are you getting a vibe? 'Cause I think I'm getting a vibe here."

"There's no vibe," scoffed Willow. "They're just friends."

"I dunno. I'm pretty sure there's a vibe. I don't like it."

"I think they're like-well, you and me."

"But even we got caught with the kissing." Xander shook his head. "Don't like it."

Willow bit back a retort to listen to what Wesley was saying.

"So that's it," said the ex-Watcher. "The vision moved you in time and space, and that caused the disorientation you've been feeling."

Buffy had gone pale. "Cordy, is there any way . . . any way you could get a message to her? Tell her she's not alone, that we're looking for her?"

"Sorry," said Cordelia. "My brain's stuck on 'receive,' not 'send.'"

"I can send," said Willow.

Cordelia's response was a very erudite "Huh?"

"I can send. Telepathically," explained the witch. "I might be able to get a message to Dawn."

"But honey, you can only send to people in your line of sight," said Tara.

"I know," responded Willow. "But Dawn's kinda in Cordy's line of sight. I might be able to use her vision to make contact, if I go through Cordy's mind. It could be worth a try, anyway."

"We have tried something like that before," mused Wesley. "Is there any danger to Cordelia in what you propose?"

"There isn't. I mean, I don't think so. I've never hurt anyone with telepathy before. Have I?" Willow gave a worried glance around the room.

"No, just freaked us out mightily," said Xander.

Angel shook his head. "If there's any risk to Cordy, it's not worth it."

"Yes, it is," stated Cordelia firmly. Angel looked at her. "Look, Angel, guys, I need to do something to help. If I know Dawn's not so afraid now, it might help with . . . this."

"If anything doesn't feel right, I can pull back out," Willow added. "Worst case scenario, it doesn't work at all. Best case, I make contact with the Powers That Be."

"And let me tell you what a joy that is." Cordelia straightened, steadying herself. "Okay, Willow. Invade my brain. Everybody else does."

Willow sat down beside Cordelia and took her hands. "Okay, breathe deep and clear your mind."

Do you hear me?

"Gah! Creepy!" exclaimed Cordelia, snatching her hands out of Willow's.

"Are you all right?" asked Angel. "Maybe you shouldn't try this."

Cordelia gave him a look. "I'm fine. It just took me by surprise is all." She offered her hands to Willow again, who took them. "Let's do this."

"You sure?" asked Willow.

"I'm sure. Go on ahead."

Both young women relaxed, closing their eyes.

Do you hear me?

Yes.

Good. Go back into the vision.

Pain. Flashes of dark and light. Dawn! Fear, so much fear. A blond woman, icy cold, a big demon (who smells awful), an unknown man.

The world turns, tips on its side, whirls around, and it's Dawn again. So beautiful, the light from within her, all soft and glowy green . . . . She's afraid, so afraid, so alone.

Willow dove in, straight through Cordelia's mind and into the emotions of the other.

Dawnie, can you hear me?

Dawn gave a gasp. "Willow?" she whispered into the dark room she'd awakened in.

It's me, Dawnie. Cordelia had a vision, and we're all in L.A. now with Angel's gang. We're going to find you, so don't worry. Do you know where you are?

"No," whispered Dawn. "They knocked me out."

Who's "they"? Do you know?

"No. There's a demon-Kogue, I think-and Nicole the psychic bitch, and then there's a guy-"

Psychic?

There was another presence, like a shark swimming through water. Willow felt it searching for her. It was strong, perfectly in its element, and it was reaching out, grabbing hold of Willow's consciousness, and Willow could only struggle against it.

Suddenly, violently, it was shoved away, and Willow felt herself flowing back into her own body, separating from Cordelia as she did so.

Both young women promptly fainted. Buffy and Angel both caught Cordelia, and Wesley caught Willow before she could fall off the couch.

Tara rushed over to her lover. "Willow? Are you okay?"

Willow opened her eyes, one of which was slightly crossed. "Whoa."

Cordelia gave a little moan. Angel scooped her up from the couch.

"Angel?" murmured the Seer. "Tell everyone to please stay out of my head."

It might have been funny without the tear running down her face. Angel looked at Wesley, who nodded, and the vampire began to carry his friend to the stairs.

"Where are you taking me?" asked Cordelia weakly.

"My bedroom," said Angel.

"Why, you beast," deadpanned Spike.

"Shut up, Spike," snapped the elder vampire. "You're going to rest, Cordy. No arguments."

As he carried Cordelia up the stairs, the attention downstairs focused on Willow, who was sitting up.

"What happened?" asked Buffy.

"We made contact," said the witch. "Dawn doesn't know where she is or who's kidnapped her, but she knew a few names. The demon's name is Kogue. The blond woman is Nicole, and she's psychic. I think she was the one who was trying to find us."

"Trying to find you?" Giles asked sharply.

"Yeah. I felt her searching for us-Cordy and me-but just as she found us, Cordy shoved her away. She's got a really strong mind. Cordy, I mean. But Nicole, too."

"That could mean they've been alerted to our presence," said Giles.

"There's some kind of boss, too," Willow continued, "but Dawn didn't get the chance to tell us anything about him.

Angel came back down the stairs. Xander looked at him.

"Angel, is Cordy okay?" asked the young man.

Only Xander and Giles, who was standing behind him, caught the fear and pain in Angel's eyes before the vampire pulled himself back under his usual tight control.

"She just needs to rest," said Angel. "These visions take a lot out of her. Willow, what happened?"

The witch recapped what she'd just told the others. Angel looked concerned.

"They could know we're coming, then," he said, unwittingly echoing Giles.

"We got away okay," protested Willow. "I don't feel whoever it was anymore. How bad could it be?"

"Perhaps you're all right," said Giles, "but what about Dawn?"

The door to the room Dawn was being held in flew open. Nicole stood in the light, a blue silk robe over her white nightgown, and she looked furious.

"Get Mr. Hayden," she commanded the vampire guarding the door. "Get him!"

The vampire left post-haste, and Nicole turned her attention to Dawn. "Who was here?" she demanded. "Who talked to you?"

"No one," Dawn said.

Nicole strode into the room and grabbed Dawn's shoulder hard. "Who was it?" The psychic's eyes searched Dawn's face, hard and unwavering.

A moment or so later, the man who called himself Lucas was in the door. He turned on the light.

"What's wrong?" he asked Nicole.

"Someone has made contact with her," Nicole told him, jerking her head at Dawn. "A witch named Willow. The Slayer and her friends have come to Los Angeles, and they're working with someone to find the girl."

"Do you know who?" asked Lucas.

"A vampire named Angel. The girl also has ideas about a smaller, blonde vampire; a girl named Cordelia, who has visions of some sort; and an unimpressive man named Wesley."

"Stop it!" cried Dawn, shaking Nicole's hand off her shoulder. "It's not true!"

"It's true," said Nicole.

"Oh, dear," sighed Lucas. "Do they know where we are?"

Nicole paused before answering. "They only had contact with the girl, and she doesn't know. I would say we're safe for now."

"You are so not," insisted Dawn. "They're gonna find you, and when they do, you'll all go down. You should let me go now."

Nicole smiled mockingly. "Nice try, child."

"My name is Dawn, you bitch!"

"Nicole, perhaps I should handle this," said Lucas. "Go on back to bed."

Nicole looked at Dawn, but obeyed her employer, leaving the room. Dawn was still under a full head of steam.

"Where am I?" she demanded, more angry than afraid now. "Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?"

"For the who, my name is Lucas Hayden," said the man. "For the where, you're at my house. One of them, anyway. As to the why, well, I'll be explaining that soon."

Dawn's eyes filled with tears. "Please let me go. I'm not the Key anymore."

"I'm afraid you are." Lucas actually looked compassionate. "I'm not planning to hurt you, Dawn. In fact, I can make your life very comfortable. This room will be yours. Just tell me what you need, and I'll provide it. But letting you go is not an option."

"Then get out." Dawn's voice was low, deadly. "Get out!"

Lucas shrugged. "All right. We'll talk tomorrow." He left, shutting the door behind him. A moment later, it re-opened. "Are you allergic to cats, by any chance?"

The non sequitur caught Dawn off-guard. "No."

A large gray cat swept by Lucas' feet and into the room. Lucas indicated it. "This is Diogenes. I'm sure he'll be happy to keep you company. Good night, Dawn. Oh, and I wouldn't try to escape if I were you. My grounds are patrolled by vampires."

The door shut again, and Dawn was alone. She sat on the bed, feeling helpless and afraid. Diogenes wandered over, examined her with huge golden eyes for a moment, then leaped up onto the bed and wormed his way onto her lap.

Hugging the cat, Dawn cried.

Chapter 5

Dawn trudged down a marble staircase, a vampire in front of her and a cat behind. Her young features were drawn with exhaustion and stormy with indignation. The vampire skirted a patch of sunshine as he led the teen into an airy breakfast nook.

"Good morning, Dawn," greeted Lucas Hayden cheerfully. "Did you sleep well?"

"What do you think?" snapped Dawn.

Hayden looked sympathetic. "I understand. A new situation takes time to get used to. Perhaps you'd like some breakfast. I wasn't sure what you usually have, so I had my chef whip up a little of everything."

From the look of the table, he wasn't kidding. There was a small platter of various pastries, a short stack of blueberry pancakes, a Belgian waffle, bacon, sausage, a bowl of scrambled eggs, pitchers of milk, orange juice, and apple juice, and three hot carafes. Accompanying all this was butter, several jams, syrup, ketchup, salt, pepper, sugar, honey, an assortment of tea bags, and Tabasco sauce.

"Obsessive much?" asked Dawn as she sat down. She wasn't planning on being cooperative by any means, but the hunger pangs gnawing at her stomach made her unable to pass up the food. After a moment of consideration, she loaded up her plate with scrambled eggs, a few sausage links, and an English muffin with strawberry jam, and filled her glass with orange juice.

"Would you like coffee, tea, or cocoa?" Hayden asked. Dawn, her mouth full of food, merely shook her head. Hayden poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down opposite her. "Well, Dawn, we've quite a few things to discuss this morning."

Dawn washed down some scrambled eggs with juice. "Yeah, like whether you're going to let me go before Buffy breaks your spine, or after."

Hayden merely gave her a look that said he was humoring her. "Be that as it may, Dawn, you're going to be here quite some time. Now, what I'd like to know from you is what I can do to make your stay more comfortable. Can you think of anything you need?"

Dawn was all set with her next retort when the door to the breakfast nook banged open and a person she hadn't seen before walked in. He was a man maybe a little younger than Xander, she guessed, but not nearly as tall, and much skinnier. He was dressed in battered blue jeans, a Tragically Hip t-shirt, a red plaid flannel, and sneakers that had seen better days. His face was sharp-featured under a ragged mop of messy brown hair and a set of wire-rimmed glasses. In one hand, he held an empty coffee mug. In the other, he had a pen, which he was twirling between his fingers.

The new man tossed off a mumbled salutation of some sort while making a beeline for the carafes on the breakfast table. He set down his coffee mug, picked up one carafe, took a sniff of the contents, set it down, and repeated the process with the other two. In the third one, he apparently found what he was looking for and poured his mug full of coffee to the rim, drank half of it in two gulps, then re-filled it back to the rim.

"Good morning, Gianni," said Hayden finally.

"Signore Hayden, good morning," said the newcomer, as if the presence of others in the nook had only just occurred to him. Gianni reached for the pastries, seemed to realize the pen was still in his hand, stuck it in his mouth, took a Danish, brought it to his mouth, realized the pen was now there, set down the Danish, took the pen out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear, grabbed the pastry again, shoved it in his mouth, and started talking about something. Dawn couldn't make out a single word he was saying.

Hayden gave Dawn an apologetic shrug. "Gianni," he interrupted the young man, "I'd like you to meet someone."

Gianni finally looked over at Dawn. "Who's the little girl?"

"Gianni, this is Dawn Summers. Dawn, this is Giovanni Cassio, one of the top cryptologists in the world, among other things. Gianni, you remember how I said the key to our whole operation is a person?" Gianni nodded. "This is our Key."

Gianni did a double take at her, swallowing the last of the Danish. "This? The bambina?" Hayden nodded. Gianni shrugged. "You're the boss. I'm just the guy you're paying ridiculous amounts of money to." Dawn noted, at this point, a slight Italian accent.

"How are things going?" Hayden asked the young man.

"Fine, fine. You'll have your machine ready for testing in a few days," said Gianni, slurping his coffee. "Or you will if you keep that strega away from me. She gives me agitations. Why is she here, anyway? I thought she was being kept in a kennel somewhere."

Dawn snickered as she realized who the "she" Gianni was talking about was, and precisely what that last sentence meant.

"The house in Malibu had unwelcome guests, so she had to return home. Don't make things difficult with Nicole."

Gianni grunted and drained his cup. "Tell her to stay out of my brain, then. If I catch her snooping in my thoughts again, I'll put her head on a Playboy Playmate's picture and post it on the Internet with her cell phone number." Dawn burst into giggles at that. Gianni looked at her approvingly. "See? The bambina agrees with me."

Hayden decided to cut this short. "I need some time alone with Dawn, Gianni, but I'd like to meet with you later to discuss our progress."

"Fine. Ciao, Signore Hayden. Ciao, bambina." Gianni grabbed another pastry, refilled his coffee cup, and left the nook.

Hayden turned his attention back to Dawn. "As I was saying, Dawn-"

He was interrupted as Gianni came back in. "Did I leave my pen on the table?" he asked.

"It's behind your ear," said Hayden.

"Oh." Gianni shrugged, turned, and left again.

"As I was saying, Dawn," Hayden repeated, "if you need anything to make your stay more comfortable, you have only to ask. Can you think of anything right now?"

Dawn decided to see just how serious he was about this. "I need some more clothes," she said.

"Done."

"But not just anything," clarified Dawn. "It has to be stuff I'd wear, not stuff I wouldn't be caught dead in."

"Not a problem," said Hayden. "We'll get you some clothes catalogues and you can pick what you'd like. Give my housekeeper, Mrs. Abbey, your sizes and preferences, and we'll have all you'd need within a day. Anything else?"

"Well . . ." Dawn thought. "If I'm going to be staying here, I don't want to die of boredom. I need some books. And some movies. There's that TV in my room, but does it have a VCR or DVD player?"

"We'll get you one. What else do you need?"

Inwardly, Dawn smiled. So, he was wanting to get on her good side, was he?

We'll just see about that, she thought.

Later that morning, Lucas Hayden sat in his den. He knew he might eventually have to deal with the Slayer. He had prepared for that, taken precautions. But when Nicole told him there were two vampires in the mix as well - two vampires who were not on his side - Hayden realized that his operation might be in trouble. Ethan Rayne had given him an idea about how to handle it, but more information was needed before Hayden could make a decision. So Hayden did what the very rich traditionally do when trouble comes to their doors: he called his lawyer.

"Wolfram & Hart. How may I direct your call?"

"Gavin Park's office, please."

"One moment, Mr. Hayden." Lucas noted the operator hadn't needed to hear his name to know who he was, and he wondered idly if the means was mystical or merely caller ID.

The line buzzed and was picked up. "Gavin Park."

"Gavin? This is Lucas Hayden."

"Lucas! Good to hear from you. How did the house in Malibu work out?"

"I'm afraid I had to move out. Pest control problems."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you need a new location? I can get you something nice in the Hills."

"No, thank you, I'm making do. I'm actually calling about another of your areas of expertise: Angel."

"My, you ARE having problems. I'm afraid there's only so much help we can offer-"

"No, no, I don't need any action taken. Just a little research."

"Whatever you like. If you tell me what you want to know, I can have a report put together and faxed to you by the end of the week."

"I'm afraid it's a bit urgent."

"Well, I could connect you to Files and Records, though clients don't usually deal with her directly."

"'Her'? Your Files and Records department is one person?"

"'Person' might be stretching it a bit, but yes, one very knowledgeable individual. Just be sure that your questions are very specific, and don't be afraid to cut her off, or you'll be on the phone all day."

"Thank you, Gavin."

"No problem. I'll transfer you now."

The line buzzed once, and an even-toned female voice answered. "Files and Records."

"This is Lucas Hayden. Mr. Park said you could answer some questions for me."

There was a rapid series of clicking noises, after which the voice said, "Hayden, Lucas G. Wolfram & Hart client since 1995. How may I help you?"

"I need some information about the vampire, Angel."

"I have six hundred and thirty-two files pertaining to subject Angel. Please specify the information you need."

"Tell me about his origins."

"Subject Angel born Liam O'Connor, Galway, Ireland, 1727. Father: Brian O'Connor, a trader of silks and linen. Mother: Bridget Finlay O'Connor. Subject also had one sibling, younger sister Kathleen O'Connor. Brian, Bridget and Kathleen O'Connor killed by subject on September 4th, 1753. Second-degree relatives include-"

"Stop. Angel killed his own parents and little sister?"

"Correct. Liam O'Connor converted to vampire on September 3rd, 1753. Brian, Bridget, and Kathleen O'Connor, as well as servant Anna Shea, are subject's first known victims. Reports from local constabulary suggested animal attack, but-"

"Stop. Give additional details of Angel's life prior to his 'conversion.'"

"Please be more specific."

"Work, education, behavior, anything that will give me an idea of his personality."

"Subject had no regular employment. He worked for his father periodically, but he was given few responsibilities. Subject received no formal education. Additional relevant information: Subject had several recorded arrests between 1744 and 1753 for public drunkenness, brawling, petty theft, and the solicitation of prostitutes."

"So Angel was essentially a shiftless, skirt-chasing drunk?"

"I'm Files and Records, sir. I can only give you the facts; I cannot draw conclusions."

"Nonetheless..." Hayden nodded thoughtfully to himself. "All right, tell me about known vampire associates of Angel's."

"Darla. Original name and date of birth unknown, though bone scans performed subsequent to her resurrection indicated-"

"Stop." Hayden tried to remember the details Nicole had given him about the other vampire she had seen in her mind. "Stick to male associates, under six feet in height. With blonde hair."

"Spike, aka William the Bloody. Born William Harding, London, England, 1854, converted to vampire in 1880. Height: 5'9", weight: one hundred and sixty pounds, eyes blue, hair brown, though subject has been bleaching it regularly since 1971. Other distinguishing features: small horizontal scar through left eyebrow, fingernails sometimes painted black."

"That's him," Hayden said. "Tell me about his early history."

"Father: Jacob Harding, headmaster of the Smithson School for Boys in London. Mother: Elizabeth Carrington Harding, daughter of Sir Miles Carrington, decorated Navy captain. Subject had four siblings: elder brother Nathaniel Harding, a solicitor with the firm of Arnold, Nesmith, and Sachs; elder sister, Emma Harding Grayson, wife of Nicholas Grayson-"

"Stop. What was William's profession?"

"Subject was an instructor in English literature at the Smithson School for Boys."

Aha, Hayden thought. Daddy got him a job. Maybe William couldn't find one for himself.

"Tell me about his social life."

"No spouse or particular friends on record. Subject courted several women from his late teens until the date of his conversion - none successfully. It is also noted that the subject made repeated attempts to publish original poetry, and it has been speculated that the subject spent much of his free time composing said poetry. However, none of subject's work was ever purchased. I have four samples on file."

"Let's hear one."

"Your eyes, as brown as richest soil / fertile, full of grace and mirth / your auburn hair that gently falls / like leaves that fear to dent the earth. / Your nose-"

"Stop." Hayden cringed inwardly. Even discounting the flatness of the reader's voice, the poetry was still horrible. It was no wonder that William Harding's attempts at both publication and romance had ended up in the ash can.

"I believe that is all the information I need," Hayden said. "Thank you."

"Files and Records is glad to be of service, Mr. Hayden. Have a nice day."

Hayden hung up the phone. This is going to work out, after all, he thought. With a little help from Mr. Rayne.

By 8:00 that evening, the Sunnydale and Los Angeles contingents were sitting in the lobby of the Hyperion around four open, empty pizza boxes.

"I can't believe we ate all that," Tara said.

"Well, there's nothing like a day of useless, frustrating research to get your appetite going," Cordelia responded. "Or, in my case, a full-blown assault on your brain."

Angel looked at her. She seemed fine, but Angel had noticed that Cordelia was developing a talent for seeming fine when she really wasn't. Maybe she learned it from me, he thought.

"Is all of the pizza gone?" Giles asked. "I'm still a bit hungry."

"Well, if Cordelia had let me order those garlic knots..." Xander replied. Angel threw him a cold glance.

"There'd have been more for the humans if Billy Idol over there hadn't eaten three slices of pepperoni," Gunn noted, nodding at Spike. "It's not like he needed it."

"I wouldn't throw stones, Eight Ball," Spike retorted. "You ate at least half of the Hawaiian."

"Um," Fred said, clearly quite anxious to be speaking in front of such a large group, "don't let me stop the fun, but aren't there more important things for us to fight about right now than pizza? Like, we could fight about what to do next. That'd be more constructive, right?"

Willow noticed the tiny smile on Wesley's face as he heard these words. Wow, she thought, there's vibe everywhere you look in this place.

"Fred's right," Angel said.

"Okay. Any luck with that coded thingy?" Buffy asked.

"Not much, I'm afraid," Wesley answered.

Wesley caught Buffy rolling her eyes ever so slightly.

"It's at least a two-tiered code," Fred added. "I mean, it's not just letter-replacement or anything like that. I've got one of the computers running all kinds of solution algorhythms, but it could be a while before one of them produces a readable translation. If any of them does, that is. And the answer will be in Medieval Italian."

"Great," Buffy said. "How about the house you guys raided?"

"It's a dead end," Cordelia said. "Whoever put together the shell corporation that owned the place left zero paper trail."

"Right," Buffy breathed. "How about the Skeezix demon?"

"Sch'sek," Wesley corrected.

"Whatever," Buffy said.

"The, ah, Sch'sek prefers a diet of freshly-killed goat," Giles said, cutting in. "Xander and I have been visiting specialty butcher shops in the area, but we haven't learned anything helpful so far."

Buffy turned to look at Gunn. He could see the growing desperation behind her eyes.

"I've been on the streets, talking to folks," Gunn said before Buffy could ask a question. "But a lot of 'em aren't talking back."

"You think they're afraid to talk?" Buffy said with a tiny note of hope. "If they're scared, then at least they know who they're scared of. Maybe we could get one to tell us something."

"I don't think that's it," Gunn replied. "I had kind of a falling out with the guys I used to run with, and it looks like they've been talking trash about me all over the place. Some of my old sources don't trust me anymore."

"Then we're nowhere," Buffy said flatly. "We don't know where Dawn is or who's got her."

"Well, that's not totally true," Willow said, anxious to make Buffy feel better. "We know Dawn is somewhere in or near L.A., and, and we know she's OK. That's something."

"Look," Angel said to Buffy, "we're going to find her. It's just a matter of time."

"You got a lot of people on your side, here," Gunn added.

"And you have our undivided attention," Wesley finished. "We shall take no other cases until-"

"Help!" a voice screamed from the Hyperion's main doorway. All heads turned to see a woman, perhaps twenty years old and wearing jeans and a tube top, standing there, panic-stricken.

The woman ran up to the group. "Please. Is this Angel Investigations?"

"Yes," Angel said. Before he could say anything more, the woman started talking a mile a minute.

"They have my boyfriend! Vampires! Maybe eight or nine, I don't know. At the Vu!"

"The who?" asked Xander.

"The Dj Vu," Cordelia answered. "It's a night club about six blocks from here. Or it was, until the owners got busted for tax evasion. It hasn't been open in months."

"Maybe they decided to cater to a new crowd," Angel said. He turned to the woman. "Do you know why they took him?"

"Some of them were Terry's - my boyfriend's - friends. You know, before they turned into..."

"I get it," Angel said.

Gunn and Wesley got up and ran into the back room, emerging seconds later with weapons.

"Given the vampires' numbers," Giles said, "perhaps Buffy and I should join you."

"Capital idea," Wesley responded, tossing his Cossack cavalry saber to Giles and running to the back for another weapon.

Buffy pulled a pair of stakes from her jacket. "I'm up for it," she said.

"Same here," said Xander.

"Us, too," added Willow. She and Tara got to their feet.

"I haven't hit anyone in almost a day," said Spike. "Count me in."

"You've got to be kidding," Angel said.

"Angel, please, he can help," Buffy responded.

Angel realized he didn't have time to argue. "Cordelia, you know this place?"

"I went there a few times," she said.

"Then I guess we're all going," Angel replied.

"Hey, I didn't volunteer," Anya said.

"You want to stay here?" Angel asked.

"No, I just didn't get a chance to volunteer yet. There, now I have."

"Then let's move," Angel said.

Across the street from the Hyperion, Ethan Rayne watched from a coffee shop window as two cars pulled out from behind the hotel and sped away up the street. As the cars drove out of sight, he muttered, "Ah, these heroic sorts. So noble, so daring...so bloody predictable."

Rayne slapped a dollar down on the Formica table, then checked his jacket pocket as he walked out of the coffee shop. His fingers felt the smooth glass of a small vial. Good.

This was going to be fun.

They drove the six blocks to keep their swords, axes, and crossbows out of view. When they pulled up in front of the building, Angel turned to the woman seated next to him. During the short ride over to the Vu, she had mentioned that her name was Gina Flores.

"Do you know where in the building they are?"

"No. When I saw them drag him in, I went straight to you. I heard you could help with this kind of stuff."

"We can," Wesley said from the front passenger's seat. "And we shall."

As if to emphasize the point, Gunn elbowed his door open and cocked his crossbow.

Xander had parked his car right behind Angel's and was now hurrying out of it, brandishing a loaner scimitar. He appeared to be about to rush headlong into the building when Giles put a hand on Xander's shoulder.

"They know this place, and we don't," Giles said. "Best to follow their lead."

"Hello?" said Xander. "Which one are you looking to for leadership, exactly? I mean, it's Angel. And Wesley. And Cordelia! And that girl who says weird stuff. And, and that guy I don't know."

"I realize that there isn't a great deal of basis for trust, here, but we must keep in mind that saving Dawn is our top priority."

"We're not here to help Dawn. We're here to save a guy we've never met who has nothing to do with Dawn at all."

"Yes, well, good point. But let's just focus on getting it done and remaining alive, shall we?"

Xander sighed. "Correct as usual, King Friday."

Angel and Buffy went in first, very cautiously, Gunn watching their backs. Then the others quietly filed in. Cordelia stayed behind with Gina, and Anya volunteered to keep the engine of Xander's car running in case they needed to make a quick getaway.

Great, Xander thought. Bloodsucking night stalkers in front of me, Anya's driving behind me. Rock, meet Hard Place.

Angel crept through the short entranceway and peeked around the corner at the dance floor. The room was about a hundred feet square, with an elevated DJ booth in one corner and a bar on the rear wall. There were, indeed, nine vampires in the room. Four of these were lounging around on some raggedy couches by the right-hand wall, while the rest stood around a man - presumably Terry - in a straight-backed wooden chair at the far end of the room. They jeered at him, playing with him as vampires sometimes do prior to the kill. Any time Terry tried to get up, one of the vamps would simply push him back down.

"OK," Buffy whispered as the rest of the group bunched up awkwardly behind her. "Everybody with crossbows, go for the ones on the couch. The rest of us will rescue Terry."

Everyone nodded.

"Now!" Buffy hissed. The entire group poured into the room.

As the others charged forward, Gunn, Fred, Willow, and Tara hung back and fired their crossbows at the four vampires on the couches. Gunn and Willow hit their targets through the heart, disintegrating them, but Fred's shot hit a vampire in the right side of his chest. Tara's bolt missed completely and buried itself in the couch.

The two surviving vampires growled and charged, the wounded one pulling the bolt from his chest as he ran. Willow and Tara dropped their crossbows and clasped hands; one of the vamps suddenly flew back as though a two-ton mule had kicked him in the chest. He hit the wall head-first and was knocked unconscious.

Gunn threw his crossbow behind him and pulled a hand axe from his belt. The last charging vampire swung his fist at Gunn's head. Gunn ducked and kneed the vampire in the groin. When the vamp doubled over, Gunn grasped him by the hair with one hand and swung his axe downward with the other, decapitating the monster. Gunn coughed as the vampire burst into a cloud of dust.

Meanwhile, the others were charging into the group of five vampires standing around their prisoner. Angel ran at one, then dodged sideways and surprised a different vampire, kicking him in the side and knocking him away. The vampire who had expected an attack from Angel instead found itself frantically dodging sword cuts from Wesley and Giles. Buffy leaped up and kicked a vampire in the head, then landed and performed a low roundhouse kick to the knee that dropped the vamp to the floor. She staked it on the ground.

Xander, who was also on the floor, was engaged in a desperate wrestling match with one of the vampires when he saw the prisoner, Terry, rise up out of his chair and approach Buffy from behind. The man's brown eyes suddenly went yellow as his face distorted with bumps and fissures.

Xander tried to shout a warning, but the vampire on top of him had a hold of his throat; Xander could only squeak ineffectually as the "prisoner" smashed the edge of his hand against Buffy's neck, knocking her to her knees.

Angel saw this, too, and ran over to the Terry-vamp just as he was about to drop down and bite Buffy's neck. The souled vampire yanked Terry around by his shoulder with one hand and threw a hook punch to the ribs with the other. In response, the vamp grasped Angel's shoulders and head-butted him. Angel leaned back with the force of the blow, then pulled the vampire down to the floor on top of him and shoved his feet into the monster's midsection. The vampire flew over Angel's head in a ten-foot-high arc to land on one of its comrades, who was fighting with Spike. All three of them were knocked to the floor in a heap.

Just then, the door behind the bar on the back wall flew open, and four figures emerged. In the lead were two humans armed with shotguns. They both fired at Buffy.

Fortunately, Buffy had regained her senses. She dove to the ground and rolled, coming up with a stake in her right hand. She hurled it at one of the men; the stake penetrated his bicep. He howled and dropped his gun, then ran back through the door.

The second human was cocking his shotgun for another blast when Angel knocked him down, wrenched the gun from his hands, and knocked him unconscious with the butt.

This action occupied Angel's attention long enough that he didn't see the seven-foot-tall Sch'sek demon coming up behind him. A thick metal cable snaked out of the demon's wrist and the creature swung the cable at Angel. The end of it caught the vampire in the temple and knocked him unconscious.

"Angel!" Buffy shouted. She ran forward to attack the large humanoid, but was intercepted by a tall, blue-eyed woman with short, blonde hair.

"Outta my way!" Buffy shouted as she continued her charge, planning to knock the blonde out of her path. Instead, at the last moment, the other woman took a long step sideways, leaving one leg extended. Buffy tripped right over it.

Gunn, Willow, Tara, and Fred had now joined in the hand-to-hand combat to assist Xander and Spike, who were both in the process of being out-grappled by their opponents on the ground. Willow pulled out a stake and jammed it into the back of the vampire that was strangling Xander, dusting it. Xander sat up, blinking hard to get the stuff out of his eyes.

Tara shouted "Membri par plumbo!" at one of the vamps that was wrestling with Spike. The monster's grip suddenly went slack, and the creature rolled limply off the British vamp. Fred staked it easily, leaving Spike with only one opponent.

Wesley and Giles had finished off their mutual opponent and now moved to engage the Sch'sek. They approached the creature warily, brandishing their weapons, until Giles cried, "Now!" and they split up to flank the demon. The Sch'sek lashed out with one of its cable-whips and struck Giles' saber in the middle of the blade, snapping it in two.

Wesley yelled and attacked the Sch'sek's other side with a mace. The weapon bounced harmlessly off the Sch'sek's thick hide. The creature turned and looked at him menacingly.

"Wes! Down!" a voice shouted. Both Wesley and the Sch'sek looked up to see Gunn holding a captured shotgun. Wesley dropped to the floor and rolled away as Gunn fired at the demon, cocked, and fired again, and again. The monster staggered back a few feet with each shot, but was otherwise unaffected.

Buffy got up from the floor just in time to receive a palm strike to the jaw from the blonde woman. The Slayer bent backward with the blow, flinging herself upwards in a full back flip. She lashed out her leg to catch the woman's head with a front kick in the course of her rotation, but the woman easily backed away from the kick, causing Buffy to over-rotate and land awkwardly. The tall blonde used Buffy's recovery time to reach into her white jacket for a butterfly knife, which she expertly flipped open.

The Slayer leaped forward and snapped her foot up to kick the knife out of the blonde's hand. The woman jerked the blade out of the path of the kick, then lunged and slashed, putting a large gash in Buffy's leather jacket and a medium-sized one in her side. Buffy stumbled back with a grunt of pain.

Then, just as Buffy thought that the blonde was about to attack again, the woman leaped to the side instead, just in time to avoid a bolt from Fred's crossbow. The woman shouted at the tall demon, "Kogue! We go!"

The Sch'sek had been advancing on Gunn; it now took one more moment to snap its cable-whip at him. The tip hit Gunn's forearm with a loud crack. Gunn stifled a scream.

Kogue grabbed up the unconscious gunman who had come in with him, then strode rapidly out the back door right behind the tall woman. Buffy gave chase, but Kogue slammed the door behind him hard enough to knock Buffy back a dozen feet. Gunn, however, had snatched up the second shotgun, and he ran out into the alley. A white Cadillac with tinted windows peeled out with tires screeching. Gritting his teeth against the pain of his fractured arm, Gunn fired the shotgun at the back window, but the pellets did not penetrate.

Inside, the others quickly finished off the remaining vampires. The Slayer and her nine companions then dusted themselves off and walked or limped back to the front entrance of the Dj Vu. Cordelia and Anya were waiting in the cars. Gina, however, was not.

"She said she had to pee, and that she was just going to the pizza place up the block," Cordelia protested when Wesley and Gunn glared at her. "I just figured she was nervous," she said, shrugging.

They drove by the pizza joint. The teenager at the counter said he hadn't seen anyone matching Gina's description, so they drove back to the Hyperion, after which Fred took Gunn to the ER to have his arm looked at.

"Okay, this was a setup, right?" Xander said as he twisted open a jar of mayonnaise. Post-stress hunger had descended upon them all, so they were holding their meeting in the kitchen.

"That seems a safe assumption," Wesley said.

"So Gina was a fake?" Tara asked.

Cordelia looked at her. "Hon, if there weren't a whole lot of starving actresses out there willing to do anything for a few bucks, there would be no such thing as porn."

"The real question is, why'd they bother?" Spike asked cynically as he took a sip of the blood Angel had very grudingly allowed him. "We routed 'em easy enough. Hell, if that Sch'sek demon hadn't run when he did, I could have-"

"-let him beat you to the consistency of cherry pie filling," Giles said. "In any case, from all appearances, it looks as though their purpose was to kill Buffy. They did focus their most lethal attacks on her."

"I don't get it," Buffy said. "That blonde lady seemed totally normal. No super-strength, no weird demon skin. But I couldn't lay a hand on her." Buffy unconsciously touched the bandage that was wrapped around her middle.

"Was she blind, with all-white eyeballs?" Cordelia said. "'Cause we've seen that."

"Not that I noticed," Buffy responded.

"But why make so much effort just to get rid of Buffy?" Anya asked.

"Maybe Mr. Big thinks were on to him," Spike said, taking another drink. "Doesn't know we don't have a bloody clue."

"We do too have a clue," Willow said. "That blonde woman - that was the one I saw in Dawn's mind."

"And that Sch'sek is almost certainly the one who was at the house in Malibu," Wesley added.

"Right," said Angel, setting aside his own mug of blood. "But what do we...whoa." He put his palm to his forehead and leaned back on the counter.

"Are you all right?" Fred asked, looking concerned.

"I just feel a little...lightheaded," Angel said.

There was suddenly a thump; everyone looked around to see Spike on the floor, unconscious. Wesley only barely caught Angel as he, too, collapsed. With Fred's help, Wesley carefully laid Angel on the floor.

"What's going on?" Tara said. She had been sitting next to Spike, and now she leaned over to look at his prone form.

Fred knelt down next to Angel and began patting his face. "Angel?" she said. "Angel, wake up."

Xander nudged Spike's shoulder with his shoe. "Hey, Spike! Naptime's over!"

Angel's eyes slowly opened. Fred smiled broadly with relief.

"Angel, what happened?" she said.

"An angel, eh?" Angel said. "Why not? You're pretty enough."

Fred was pleased for a microsecond until she realized that Angel didn't seem to know his own name. That was usually bad.

"No," she said. "YOU'RE Angel. That's your name. Why does your voice sound funny?"

"It doesn't, and that's not my name," the vampire replied. "My name is Liam."

Chapter 6

The silence in the kitchen was deafening. Angel propped himself up on his elbows, gave Fred a cocky grin, and looked around in confusion. "Where am I?" he finally asked, a distinct Irish brogue flavoring his voice.

Cordelia crouched down by him. "Angel? Are you all right?"

Angel's eyes tracked down to the cleavage-baring neckline of her shirt. "Just fine, dearie. Do I know ye?" He touched his forehead as if it was hurting him.

"Don't you remember me? Cordelia?"

"Of course," Angel said, still in that brogue. "Delia. How could I forget?" He smiled charmingly.

It occurred to Wesley just then that Angel had the look of a man who'd awakened to find himself in bed with a stranger and was trying to cover up the fact that he had no idea what her name was.

"Cor-delia," corrected the Seer. She looked up at Wesley, who looked at Giles, who looked mystified. "Angelus?" Cordelia mouthed at her friend. Wesley shook his head. Whatever had happened to Angel, it didn't appear he'd lost his soul. The vampire was acting out of character, certainly, but not . . . well, mean.

"Maybe another body-switcher," Wesley mused, almost to himself. "You remember Marcus, Cordelia?"

Whatever Cordelia was going to say was interrupted by a slight moan from Spike's prone figure. Tara slipped off her barstool to kneel beside him.

"Dear God, I've the most beastly headache," complained the blond vampire without opening his eyes. His voice sounded different. It was his accent-it was smoother, more cultured, like Giles' or Wesley's.

"Are you all right?" asked Tara.

Spike opened his eyes and blinked, rubbing his forehead. "No, I'm awful, simply . . ." As he looked Tara full in the face, he blinked again, then stared, transfixed. ". . . exquisite," he finished.

"Uh . . ." commented Tara.

"Forgive me, Miss," said Spike as he scrambled indelicately to his feet. "I don't believe I've had the privilege of making your acquaintance, and I very much desire to. My name is Harding, William Harding." He held out a hand.

Tara accepted it hesitantly and stood to her own feet. "Tara. T-Tara Maclay."

"Miss Maclay. It is indeed an honor." Spike kissed her knuckles. Tara looked wide-eyed at Willow, who was staring open-mouthed and speechless at the scene unfolding before her. "I confess that when I awoke, I thought I must be in Heaven, to have an angel ministering to me."

"Giles?" squeaked Tara.

Xander raised his hand hesitantly. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say something seriously strange is going on here."

A few minutes later, both vampires were sitting on the lobby couch while the humans stared at them. Angel was alternately taking inventory of the women and glaring challengingly at the men. Spike, on the other hand, was trying to make himself as small as possible and looked like he'd have been blushing if he'd been capable of it.

Giles approached Angel. "You say your name is Liam?"

"That's right," said Angel defiantly. "Liam O'Connor. And who might you be?"

"My name is Rupert Giles, and believe it or not, we've known each other for a number of years."

"Not likely," Angel sneered. "I don't know any English. I don't want to know any English."

"Barbarian," muttered Spike.

"What's the last thing you remember, Liam?" asked Giles.

Angel-or rather, Liam-looked at him stonily for a moment, but apparently decided to play along. "I was at a tavern, having a good time. The bartender threw me and a friend out. Then I woke up here."

"Hm," was Giles' only comment. He moved to Spike. "What is your name?"

Spike stood and proffered a hand. "Mr. William Harding, at your service, sir."

"William?" asked Buffy as Giles shook his hand. "As in William the Bloody?"

Spike, or William, looked greatly offended. "I beg your pardon, young lady, but I object to that sobriquet very strongly."

Everyone stared at him. William sat back down sheepishly. Giles continued with his line of questioning.

"What's the last thing you remember, Mr. Harding?" The Watcher decided to adopt a more formal mode of address for this incarnation of Spike.

William paused a moment before answering. "The last thing I recall is leaving a dinner party at Sir Geoffrey Wyckham's residence."

Wesley had a sudden inspiration. "Angel-Liam, I mean-what year is it?"

"1753," answered Liam without hesitation.

"How do you mean?" asked William. "It's 1880."

Buffy, Wesley, and Giles all looked at each other, then withdrew. The others gathered around them across the lobby from the vampires.

"I take it you two are aware of the significance of those dates?" Wesley asked Giles and Buffy.

"1753 was when Angel was turned. 1880 was when Spike was turned," answered Buffy. "The last things they remember are the nights they were turned into vampires. I remember Angel telling me he was drunk the night he met Darla." She glanced over her shoulder at the vampires. "That's not exactly how I pictured human Spike, though. I mean, so much for Mr. 'I've always been bad.' He's kinda . . ."

"Wesley?" supplied Xander.

"That's the word," agreed Buffy.

"I beg your pardon!" protested Wesley, sounding for all the world like William. Then he blinked. "Oh, dear."

"So they've forgotten all about being vampires?" asked Willow.

"It would appear so," said Giles.

"And they think they're human?" asked Willow.

"That would be my guess," answered Giles, sounding just a little uncertain.

Anya decided to confirm it. She walked over to the couch and asked point-blank, "Do you two think you're human?"

Liam smirked. "What else would we be, precious?"

"I believe I'm offended," sniffed William.

The former demon went back to the group. "They think they're human, all right."

"This is all kinds of bad," declared Cordelia. "Vampires thinking they're human could lead to seriously wrong things, and is Angel staring at my butt?"

Anya, standing beside her, looked over her shoulder. "Either yours or mine. Hard to tell."

Xander immediately stepped behind his girlfriend, hiding her hinder parts from Liam's appreciative gaze.

"So what's causing this?" Buffy was asking.

"A spell?" ventured Wesley.

"We could try a general reversal spell," began Willow, but was swiftly cut off when Giles and Wesley both said, "No."

"If it isn't a spell, that could be very dangerous," said Wesley.

"I agree," concurred Giles. "Especially seeing as a spell is what gave Angel his soul."

"Definitely don't want to mess with that," added Cordelia.

"Even if it is a spell," said Wesley, "it's safest to know exactly what kind of magic this is, and what went into the spell, before trying to reverse it." He thought a moment, and his face twisted with distaste. "I do hope it isn't Wolfram & Hart."

"Oh, this is the sort of thing Lindsey McDonald would've thought was really funny before he converted to the Light Side of the Force," said Cordelia. "Actually, he'd still think it's funny."

"It doesn't seem their style somehow," mused Wesley.

Cordelia snorted. "Yeah, their style is more, 'Want to mess with Angel? Torture Cordy!'"

Meanwhile, back on the couch, William was examining his clothing with a dissatisfied expression. "Most unseemly for a gentleman of my station," he muttered.

Liam, meanwhile, stretched comfortably. "You don't look like a gentleman of any station to me. And what does it matter, anyway?"

"I beg your pardon." William looked Liam over. "I suppose you find this all amusing."

Liam shrugged. "No reason not to. Besides, there are some lovely-lookin' women to be had here. Don't ye agree?"

William's moony gaze returned to Tara. "None holds a candle to Miss Maclay, in my opinion."

"Not bad," agreed Liam, looking her over. "Nice set of titties on her."

William stiffened. "Behave like a gentleman, you Irish oaf!"

"Why would I want to, you English pig?"

"Cur!"

"Pansy."

William was getting more and more heated. "What do you know of gentlemen, anyway? You look like a half-dressed vicar at a funeral, and your hair sticks straight up."

Liam surveyed William's head with amusement. "You might want to take a look at your own hair before you go criticizin' mine. It's all white. You look like a wee baby lamb."

"How dare you!" William spluttered. "My hair is-ow!"

Liam had yanked a single hair from William's head. "Take a look for yourself."

William examined the peroxide-bleached hair, then reached up to pull another. It turned out to be white, too. So did a third hair.

"Good Lord!" he whispered. "I'm an old man!"

The human contingent was startled out of its collective huddle as William leaped to his feet and began rushing around the room. Liam sprawled out on the couch, laughing fit to kill.

"A mirror!" cried William. "I need a mirror!"

"Uh, Spike-William, I mean, that's not exactly going to do you much good," said Willow, but William was beyond listening. He finally spotted a hanging mirror and made for it, only to discover his distinct lack of reflection. He blinked, looking from the humans to their reflections in the mirror, searching for his own, and coming up dry, even when he reached out to touch it.

"Is this some sort of trick?" he asked.

Giles was the one to speak up. "There are some things you need to know, William."

Liam, curiosity piqued by William's antics, had also wandered over and was puzzling over his own missing reflection. "I remember stories my Ma used to tell me about demons and vampires. They never reflected in mirrors, either."

"Actually, that's not completely true," said Anya. "Demons usually have reflections. I mean, not all, of course-Sivo demons don't reflect in mirrors, only in pools lit by the moon, and G'naush demons don't reflect at all, or even have shadows, which is probably because they're the ugliest things on Earth and nothing wants to reflect them. But vampires don't have reflections, which is why you two don't have them."

Liam and William both stared at her.

"At least she broke it to them gently," murmured Wesley to Giles.

"We're vampires?" asked Liam. He looked intrigued rather than alarmed.

"Stuff and nonsense," declared William. "There's no such thing."

"I'm afraid it's true," said Giles. "The year is 2001, and both of you are still alive. Undead, rather."

"Where are we?" asked Liam.

"America," said Buffy. "Los Angeles. Which I guess didn't exist when you two were alive. Did it?"

"America," breathed Liam. He smiled. "So I finally made it out of Galway."

"This is preposterous!" William protested to Giles. "I have no idea what your intentions are, sir, but it is the scientific age, and vampires simply do not exist. It's impossible."

"It's true," said Tara.

That got William's attention. He moved in front of her. "Miss Maclay, I can see that you are a young lady of virtue, and I mean no disrespect, but I believe you might have been misled by persons of questionable character."

"I haven't," said Tara. "I've known you for two years, and you've been a vampire the whole time."

"You would swear to this?"

"I would."

William considered her. "Then, loath as I am to do so, I must take you at your word, strange and impossible though it may seem. Yet, who am I to judge what is possible? As Hamlet said, 'There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'"

Willow and Xander traded a look. Spike-quoting Shakespeare?

"America," repeated Liam. " 'Tis strange, but I believe you. This place-I don't remember it, but it seems somehow familiar."

"It doesn't to me," said William, very stiff.

"That's because you've never been here before, thank God," said Cordelia.

"You seem familiar, too, sweeting," Liam said, giving her the once-over yet again. "We know each other, do we?"

"Yes, and most profoundly not in that way." Cordelia gave him a warning glare.

William, meanwhile, returned his attention to Tara. "My dear Miss Maclay, a ghastly suspicion has been growing in my mind, and I trust to your virtue and discretion to provide me with a truthful answer, though I fear to hear it."

"O-okay," said Tara, very afraid.

"Am I an old man?"

Buffy turned away, not caring to hear Tara's answer to William's query. The situation held no amusement value for her. She hugged her arms around herself, wandering back into the lobby.

"Buffy." It was Giles' voice. "Buffy, you should get some rest."

The Slayer turned to face him. "Rest? Dawn's out there, Giles. We have no idea where she is, who's taken her, or what she's going through, and now Angel and Spike are both missing half their marbles. All that, and you're telling me to rest?"

"Yes, I am," said the Watcher. "I know you can force yourself to sleep when you need to, and you need to right now. We'll investigate, learn what we can. If we can figure out what has been done to Angel and Spike, and how, it's possible we'll find a clue to Dawn's whereabouts. When that happens, you'll need to be at your best." Giles stepped closer. "I'll work with Wesley on this. We'll find out what's happened."

"Wesley?" asked Buffy dubiously.

"Yes, Wesley. He's worked closely with Angel for two years; in all probability, he understands vampires-and Angel, in particular-better than I do. Furthermore, green as he may have been in Sunnydale, he's shown a different side here."

Buffy put a hand to her forehead. "I know. I know. It's just . . . it's Dawn, Giles. If anything happens to her, I don't think I . . ." She couldn't finish.

Giles set a hand on her shoulder. "We won't let her come to harm, Buffy."

Buffy nodded. "Maybe you're right. I'll lie down for a bit. Call me if you find anything out, okay?"

"I shall." Giles watched as Buffy climbed the stairs, then returned to the others.

At the top of the stairs, Buffy looked both ways down the hall. After a moment, she moved on impulse to the right. Soon, she found herself in Angel's suite.

The Slayer wandered through the rooms, taking stock of the subdued dcor, the perfect neatness. Some things hadn't changed. Looking in his closet, though, it appeared some things had. Buffy noted that his wardrobe had grown to include color. She smiled as she fingered a royal blue button-down and imagined he must look good in it.

The bed caught her attention. She remembered being sixteen, chased by the Order of Turaka, and terrified. Only in Angel's apartment, resting in his bed, had she felt safe.

Her shoes were left on the floor as she climbed onto the bed and curled up against the pillows, pulling one of the blankets to cover her legs. She breathed in the clean, masculine scent around her and closed her eyes. Then she opened them again. There was a different scent here, something not Angel. Something perfumed and feminine.

Something Cordelia.

Buffy remembered Angel picking up the other girl, carrying her up the stairs. He must have laid her in his own bed to rest. Unbidden, the image of Angel laying Cordelia down on this bed, tucking her in, brushing her hair back with his hand and kissing her forehead, came to Buffy's mind.

Does he take care of her when she's hurt or afraid? Does he hold her when she's in pain? Does he watch over her, shadow her home, watch to make sure she's safe?

Does he love her?

Stop it, Buffy finally admonished herself. It's his life now. She's in it. You're not. Didn't both of you know it had to be this way? It's been over for more than two years. You've moved on; so has he.

Besides, she's truly alive, unlike certain people I could mention. She's still got the fire. Why would Angel even look at you now?

Stop it.

Buffy threw the cover off her legs and stood. No more torturing myself with this, she decided. She left Angel's room and went to find another, preferably a room without ghosts.

Chapter 7

Cordelia turned on the Hyperion's industrial-sized gas stove and put a saucepan over the blue flame. Then she opened the 'fridge and scanned for milk. She'd gotten quite a lot of sleep during the day after her particularly wild-and-crazy vision, and now her internal clock was off. She was plenty tired, but she could barely even close her eyes, let alone sleep. She was also worried about Angel; worried enough that she had called her answering machine to let Dennis know that she was staying the night at the Hyperion. So now she was going to find out whether or not the sleep-inducing effects of warm milk were just an old wives' tale.

There was a noise from the lobby. Cordelia, almost unconsciously, slid open the knife drawer. She shut it again when she recognized Gunn's and Fred's distinctive voices drifting in from the lobby.

". . .really sorry about the ride," Fred was saying. "I haven't had much practice driving since I got back, and I never even drove a wagon in Pylea. Though they did make me pull one a bunch of times." She giggled nervously.

"Well, it was either you drive, or I shift gears with my teeth," Gunn said. He gently patted his forearm, which was hanging from a sling, as they walked into the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Cordy. How you feeling?"

"A little bit like somebody made me crack nuts with my head."

Fred put a hand to her own forehead. "Ooh. More Pylea memories. I think I'll go to bed." She turned and headed out the swinging kitchen doors.

"'Night, Fred," Cordelia said.

"Sweet dreams," added Gunn as Fred walked out.

"So," Gunn said, "anything happen while I was gone?"

"Yeah," Cordelia said, sighing, "a few things."

Cordelia spent the next ten minutes telling Gunn what had happened, occasionally pausing for sips of warm milk. Gunn's jaw dropped a little lower with every detail.

"Damn," Gunn said when Cordelia had finished. "And you don't know how it happened?"

"Not a clue," Cordelia replied. "We're pretty light on clues all around, right now."

"Kind of interesting, though."

"Interesting? Our resident champion has just turned into a super-size horndog with a side of slacker. How is that interesting?"

"I'm just saying, we don't know a whole lot about what Angel was like back in his breathing days. It must be kind of a trip to meet the old him, you know?"

Just then, the kitchen doors swung open and Liam himself came striding in. He glanced over at Cordelia, and the angle of his glance made her acutely aware of the small amount of cleavage peeking through the opening of her bathrobe.

"'Evening, Cordelia," Liam said. "May I say, you're as lovely in the wee hours as you are at noon."

"You haven't seen me at noon," Cordelia said, grasping the lapels of her bathrobe and pulling the garment fully closed.

"Then I eagerly await the pleasure. Who's the Moor?" Liam looked over at Gunn.

"Who's the what, now?" Gunn said, raising an eyebrow.

"He speaks English," Liam noted, still addressing Cordelia. "Does he work here?"

"Yeah, I work here," Gunn replied defensively.

"Good," Liam replied. "I'll have a whiskey. And do you cook? I've had no supper."

"Um, Angel," Cordelia said as Gunn's expression grew stormier, "Gunn is our partner. He works WITH us."

"Ah. The New World is a strange place." Liam began opening cabinets, looking for food and beverages.

"Not as strange as your room-temperature ass," Gunn mumbled.

Cordelia heard this and spoke up loudly, as if hoping to drown out Gunn's comment retroactively. "Um, Angel-"

Liam laughed. "Everybody keeps calling me that. I guess none of you knows me very well."

"Okay," Cordelia said, taking a deep breath. "Liam, why don't you have a seat and I'll warm something up for you?"

The Irishman grinned lewdly. "And what is it of mine you'll be warming, darlin'?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes and turned to Gunn. "Would it help to whack him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper?"

"I think we threw out the newspaper," Gunn said. "But I got a mace you can borrow."

Cordelia looked back at Liam, who had seated himself on one of the kitchen counters and seemed to be admiring Cordelia's calves and ankles. "Tempting," she said, "but I think the real Angel would be upset if we dented his face."

"That's assuming we can get the real Angel back," Gunn said. A shadow of worry crossed over his face. "We can get him back, right?"

"Gee," Cordelia said, biting her lower lip. "I just sort of assumed it. I mean, we've seen Angel wig out six ways from Sunday, and we've always gotten him back."

"Wes'll figure it out," Gunn said, as much to himself as to Cordelia.

"Right," Cordelia said, nodding slowly. "And we've got Giles and Willow, too. Plenty of brains to go around. And Liam may be a great big bag of wild oats, but at least he's not Angelus."

"Well now," Liam said. He had been ignoring Cordelia and Gunn's conversation in favor of opening and closing every cupboard in the room. "It appears you don't have any whiskey. Is there a tavern nearby?"

"Well, there's- No!" Cordelia shouted. "You can't go out. You don't know anything about the twenty-first century. You could get hit by a bus or something."

"A what?" Liam replied.

"Exactly," Cordelia said.

"You'd better sit tight," Gunn added, "until we figure out how to get the last two hundred years of your life back."

Liam seemed to consider that for a moment, then said, "Fine. I'll just go to bed, then. Where are my rooms?"

They led Liam up the stairs to his door. "This is your place," Cordelia said.

"And where is yours, I wonder?" Liam said suggestively. "A lonely man might care to drop by for a visit."

"What's Irish for 'Not in a million years'?" Cordelia replied, then shut the door before Angel could respond.

Cordelia walked down the hall with Gunn. "I think the warm milk is working," she said with a yawn. "I'm going to bed."

"You want me to stick around?" Gunn asked.

"No, you go home," Cordelia replied. "I've got whole guestrooms full of help if something goes wrong."

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

Liam listened as the two sets of footsteps faded away in opposite directions. He found that his hearing was much sharper now than it used to be. He had heard clearly the Moor's strange comment about the temperature of a donkey, even though Liam had not been meant to hear it. He could also hear the breathing and soft snores of the people sleeping in the rooms next to his.

When he was confident that there was no one else about on the second floor, Liam quietly searched the room for some new clothes, as the ones he had on smelled like dust. Once changed, he carefully opened the door of his room and crept out into the hallway.

Here was another ability he didn't know he had - he was unnaturally stealthy. He moved down the hall with the grace of a slender cat, stopping at each door and listening, then moving along as soon as he heard breathing or snoring.

He still wanted a whiskey, but he didn't feel like going out by himself. It was clear that none of the future-people in the hotel would so much as let him step across the threshold. That left only one potential drinking companion, however poor a prospect he might be.

Liam stopped and listened at another door. This time, he heard no breathing at all, just a sort of scratching. He turned the doorknob and let himself in.

"Aah!" the occupant screeched, sitting bolt upright in his bed. He hadn't been sleeping. Rather, he was writing something on a pad of paper that he had borrowed from Wesley.

"Shh," Liam said. "Eh, William, d'ya want to go get a whiskey?" he whispered.

"I certainly do not," William replied. "It's the middle of the night. And...and I don't enjoy whiskey."

Probably can't hold his liquor, Liam thought. Nonetheless, he tried to think of something that would lure the oddly-coiffed Englishman out for a drink with him.

"Come on, man," Liam said. "We've traveled to the future. Don't you want to see what it's like?"

"I imagine it must be at least somewhat dangerous," William said. "Have you looked out your window? Horseless carriages whizzing about, the lights of a million bonfires as far as the eye can see...I can see why they would forbid us to go out."

"Hmm," Liam said non-commitally. Then he suddenly snatched the pad from William's hands.

"What're ye writing here, William? 'Your golden hair, like dust motes in the sun / Effulgent, you are pure as any nun-'"

"Give that back!" William hissed, trying to grab the pad back from Liam. The Irishman danced backwards, holding the pad up out of William's reach.

"Come for a drink with me," Liam said, grinning wickedly, "or there'll be a public poetry reading in the hall tomorrow morning."

"But, but I don't have any proper clothes," William protested feebly.

"Did it occur to yeh that fashions might have changed since your time?" Liam replied. "Leather seems popular these days. Look at these trousers I found in my wardrobe."

"Oh, dear," William said, looking at Liam's pants as if they had crawled into the room and up Liam's legs on their own. Then he looked at his own clothing. He was still wearing the red t-shirt and black jeans he had awakened in, and a long, black, leather coat - presumably his - was hanging over the back of a chair. He sighed. "Well, when in Rome, I suppose." William stood up and pulled on the black duster.

"That's the spirit," Liam said. He handed William his pad. "We'll just slip out for a couple of hours. No one will even notice we're gone."

"They're gone!"

Giles lifted his head up from his pillow to see a blurry orange shape standing in the doorway of his room. He reached for his glasses and put them on, causing the orange blob to resolve into Xander in some truly frightful orange pajamas.

"Who is gone?" Giles asked, shaking his head as if to knock the slumber from it.

"Spike and Angel. I got up to go to the bathroom, and on the way back I took a peek into Spike's room, you know, just to check up on him. Apparently that was a good idea."

"And Angel is gone, as well?"

"I checked his room after I found Spike's empty. I looked around downstairs, too. As far as I know, all the walking dead people in the building have walked right out."

"All right, um...wake the others," Giles said. "We'll split up and look for them. They're creatures of the night, after all, and they may have just gone for a stroll."

"Or they went out to eat...people," Xander replied.

"Spike's chip should still be functioning," Giles pointed out. "And Angel still has his soul."

"So do the Mansons," Xander countered. "Charles AND Marilyn." Before Giles could respond, Xander ran off and began pounding on more doors.

The bar was smoky, but Liam wasn't familiar with the flavor of the smoke. It was bitter, not like the sweet pipe smoke that always hung in the air at the pub back home. There were quite a few people here. Many of them were dressed in garb similar to what he and William were wearing - plenty of leather and denim. A lot of the patrons had colorful tattoos or earrings, some in places quite far from the ear. Very loud music was playing from somewhere, but Liam couldn't see a band or even recognize the sound of the instruments.

He glanced over at William, who seemed quite nervous. "Easy, William," he said. "I'm sure these are typical folk of the age. They're just here for a bit of fun, like us. Look, there's the bar."

They walked up to the counter and planted themselves on stools. Liam waved to get the bartender's attention. The bartender was a burly, bald fellow with several tattoos and a t-shirt that read, "Better Your Sister in a Whorehouse than Your Brother on a Honda."

"I'll have an ale," Liam said when the man approached.

"We don't sell that fruity stuff here," the bartender said gruffly.

"If I wanted something fruity, I'd have ordered cider," Liam said. "I want an ale, or something like it."

"One light beer," the bartender said. He looked at William. "You?"

"Ah, I don't suppose you'd have a nice Bordeaux?"

"Two light beers," said the bartender flatly. Liam watched as the man took a hose from under the bar and squirted some fizzy, light-brown stuff into two glasses of only moderate cleanliness. He slammed these down in front of Liam and William and said, "Four bucks."

Liam assumed he was talking about money, and realized that he wasn't certain that he had any. In fact, he was certain that he _didn't_ have any, since whatever money he might have had was almost certainly in the pair of trousers he had left in his room.

"Ah, William, my friend, do you have any money with you?"

"Oh, how marvelous," William said, rolling his eyes. "You invite me for a drink and then expect me to pay. Typical Irish manners."

"Watch it, boyo, or I'll-"

"Oh, to hell with this," the bartender said. "Sammy! Kurt! Get 'em out of here!" He pointed at Liam and William.

Two large men emerged from a back room and advanced on the two vampires. William practically fell backwards off his stool, such was his hurry to get up. "No need, good sir, we were just leaving," William said, grasping Liam by the arm.

"No, we weren't," Liam said, pulling his arm away and turning to William. "I've fought tougher men than these and come out the better. We can take them."

"WE?" William practically squeaked. "I most emphatically will not participate in a public house brawl! And certainly not over this foul-smelling swill," he said, pointing at his glass of beer. "I'm sure we can find something equally vile elsewhere."

"Yer missing the point," Liam said as he raised his fists. "It's not the drinks, it's just the principle of the thing."

William looked around behind him and saw that the exit was blocked by a couple of burly fellows in tank tops who seemed to be scowling at him. When he turned back, one of the two bouncers - Kurt, he thought - was nearly upon him.

"Now look here," William said, raising his fists in an awkward imitation of Liam, "I assure you that when it comes to fisticuffs, I can handle myself perfectly well. Now, I assume we are all familiar with the Queensbury rules?"

Apparently short on listening skills, Kurt walked up and smashed his elbow across William's face hard enough to send the bleached-blonde vampire sprawling.

Sammy was more cautious. As he advanced, he reached behind him and pulled out a long, heavy flashlight, which he held up in front of Liam. "We're not allowed to carry weapons," he said with a vicious half-smile.

The comment made no sense to Liam, but the threat behind it certainly did. This was a bad situation - William was out, leaving an enemy behind Liam as well as the club-wielding one in front.

Sammy swung his flashlight at Liam's head. Liam only just managed to backpedal far enough to avoid it. His relief was momentary, however; a fist slammed into his back directly over his right kidney. The Irishman grunted and buckled.

Through a haze of pain, Liam felt Kurt grab his arms from behind as Sammy wound up for another swing. Liam's mind went blank. He was a good enough brawler, but he hadn't been in many situations as bad as this.

Suddenly, Liam snapped his right leg upwards and kicked Sammy in the chin. The burly man half-fell, half-flew backwards. His unconscious body smashed a small table by the side wall and collapsed onto the wreckage.

Liam reached his left foot around behind Kurt and tipped both of them over backwards. The vampire slammed his elbow into Kurt's chest just as the man's back hit the floor.

Kurt lay wheezing, the wind knocked out of him. Liam, for his part, was so stunned at his own unexpected display of martial prowess that he was still on the ground when the two large men from the doorway approached and began whacking at him with pool cues. Liam rolled to and fro, trying to dodge the sticks while covering his face with his arms.

William also lay on the floor, wiggling his jaw experimentally. Surely, as hard as he'd been hit, it ought to be broken, yet he felt almost no pain. Cautiously, he pulled himself to his feet. When he saw the bouncers beating Liam with sticks, he cried, "Stop that!"

The two bouncers turned and raised their cues.

"I mean...that is to say...just let him up and we'll happily be on our way," William stammered, suddenly realizing the danger inherent in threatening two large, armed men.

The bouncers were unimpressed. One of them approached William and swung his pool cue at him.

There was surprise all around as William reflexively stepped forward, grabbed the cue in mid-swing, and wrenched it right out of the bouncer's hands. Before the bouncer could take any other action, William drove the butt end of the cue up into the man's groin. There were two screams, one baritone and one tenor, as the bouncer fell in a ball to the floor while William grabbed at his head, blinded by pain.

Onlookers scarcely noticed when Liam, still on the floor, spun around on one hip and used his feet to sweep the other cue-wielding bouncer's legs out from under him. The man fell flat on his back; Liam rolled over and knocked him out with a punch to the jaw.

Liam got up and saw William holding his head and moaning with pain. The Irish vampire grabbed his English cohort by the shoulders and started walking him to the exit. "We'd best be off," Liam said. "No doubt, someone's gone to fetch the constable."

They went outside, and Liam walked them rapidly around a corner. They walked a few more blocks and around behind a 7-11, where they stopped.

"What happened in there?" Liam asked.

"I don't know," William said, grimacing from the lingering pain behind his eyes. "That large man struck me in the chin, and I fell down. When I got back up, you had felled two of them and the others were beating you."

"That's what I don't understand," Liam said. "I kicked one of those men in the face like I'd been doing it all my life. I've heard that some Frenchmen fight like that - boxe savate, they call it - but I certainly never have."

"And the way I took the stick away from that bald fellow," William added. "I certainly don't know how I did that. Though it didn't stop him from hitting me in the head, or whatever he did to make my cranium ache so. It was all quite agonizing, and yet...exhilarating."

"Perhaps," Liam mused, "these are things we learned since we died. Or undied, or however you put it."

"An interesting notion," William said. "I rather wonder what other knowledge we might have that we aren't aware of."

"Well, we won't know until we try, will we?" said Liam with a mischievous glint in his eye. He looked behind him at the great glass windows of the 7-11. "You think this place sells whiskey?" he wondered aloud.

"Or headache powder, perhaps?" William said, putting a hand to the side of his head.

"Mmm...too brightly lit for whiskey," Liam said to himself. He turned to William. "A stiff drink will fix you right up. Look, there's more people down that street," Liam said, pointing.

"Yes," William agreed, letting go of his skull and peering curiously at a row of people in front of a large building. "People seem to be lining up for something along those velvet ropes. A play, perhaps? It would be fascinating to see how future generations interpret the Bard."

"I didn't come two hundred years into the future to be bored," Liam said. "But it could be something worth a look."

"Boor," William said under his breath.

"I heard that," Liam replied.

"Let's just go and see," William said testily.

They stood on the line as it inched forward towards the front doors of a large building awash with colorful light. The people around them were young, noisy, and, in William's opinion, less than tastefully clad. What was worse, Liam was ogling every female in sight, drawing angry stares from both the women and their male companions. William wondered if his ill-mannered companion would get them into another brawl, and found that his feelings about that prospect were rather more mixed than he would have expected.

As the line inched forward, William also noticed that the people in front were handing money to a man standing in the doorway. William dug into his pockets, pulled out four green bills, and looked at them. "Well," he said, "At least the Americans are still using the dollar. But I seem to have eighty of them, so either I am a very rich man, or the value of their currency has dropped rather sharply since my time."

They reached the front of the line, where the man working the door asked William and Liam for ten dollars each. William handed him one of his bills and they entered.

The sight that awaited them was almost surreal. There was an enormous room, perhaps forty feet high, lit by moving red and blue lights. Hundreds of people were dancing on the large, open floor. Countless tables and chairs littered the periphery. Music unlike anything either of them had heard before boomed from all around them, making their bodies vibrate with every pulse. In various places around the room, there were platforms on which scantily-clad women and men danced to entertain the crowd.

"It's a dance hall!" Liam shouted over the loud music.

"It's...magnificent!" William cried. "A stately pleasure dome."

They gawked for several seconds, until Liam came to himself and yanked on William's sleeve. "Come on," he yelled, "let's find some drinks." William followed Liam, whose nose for spirits quickly led them to a bar, tended by a curly-haired young woman in a collared shirt.

"Have you any whiskey?" Liam said loudly.

The woman nodded and poured a small glass of brown liquor, then turned to William. "How about you?" she shouted.

William didn't want to risk asking for Bordeaux again. "Ah, what do you recommend?"

"I make a mean margarita," the woman called back.

"Then I shall have that."

Soon, William had surrendered another ten dollars for Liam's whiskey and his own beverage, a foul-smelling golden liquid in a glass ringed with salt and decorated with a wedge of lime. It was a most peculiar libation.

They took their drinks to an empty table by the side of the room and looked around. "Have ye noticed that no one here seems to know how to dance?" Liam said after a few moments. "They're mostly just jumping around without touching."

"Yes, yes, that's so," William replied. "Perhaps morals here are not so loose as in your time."

Liam ignored the jab. "Not judging by the clothing," he replied, looking salaciously at a bikini-clad dancer on one of the platforms.

"There could be an outbreak of cholera, or some other contagious disease," William mused. "If germ theory has proven correct, then perhaps they're afraid to touch one another for fear that tiny creatures will migrate between their hands."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Liam replied. "Tiny creatures. Where did you learn such rubbish?"

William's only reply was a snort. They looked around in silence for several moments.

"Eh, William," Liam said suddenly. "Have you noticed that those girls near the bar are looking at us?"

"Oh, God, it's my hair, isn't it?" William said nervously. "I look like an albino."

"No, yeh great clucking hen, I mean they look interested in us. Let's go and introduce ourselves."

William looked over at the women near the bar. They did, indeed, seem to be looking his and Liam's way. One of them caught his eye and smiled, causing William to stiffen and make a rapid 180-degree turn.

"Ah, I, ah, believe I need to, um, find the facilities," William said.

"Come on, now, William, no need to be nervous. They just want a bit o' conversation."

"Exactly!" William cried. "What if they want to talk about...I don't know...current events?"

"We can claim ignorance for being foreigners," Liam replied. "Girls love foreigners."

"Yes, but...well...I'll be back directly," William said, and before Liam could speak another word, he had hurried off towards a doorway on the far wall.

"Pansy," Liam said to no one in particular, and headed towards the two women alone.

Cordelia looked around the dive bar, her expression an odd mix of dismay and optimism. A paramedic was examining a half-conscious man lying on the broken remnants of a table, and two more paramedics were lifting a man with a large ice pack over his groin onto a gurney. A couple of badly bruised fellows were gruffly responding to questions from a pair of police officers.

"Okay," Cordelia said to Xander and Anya, who had been assigned by Buffy to accompany Cordelia when the group split up to search the area. "Anybody think this might not have been the work of our amnesia poster boys?"

"This definitely looks like Spike's kind of place," Xander said. "Ask if they have buffalo wings. Then we'll know for sure."

"He's not Spike, remember?" Anya said. "He's William. He'd looking for steak and kidney pie, or blood pudding, or something." She stopped and thought for a moment. "You know, now that I think about it, demons and English people have pretty similar tastes in food."

"Can we focus, please?" Cordelia said. She turned and looked out the door of the bar. "So, where would they go from here?"

"Okay," Anya said. "I'm in a century I'm totally unfamiliar with. So, naturally, I want to learn the ropes fast, find out what people are like and how they act, but without having to interact with them much myself."

"An, honey, we need to look for Angel and Spike right now," Xander said. "We can talk about your issues later."

"I AM talking about Angel and Spike," Anya said, exasperated. "I'm just saying, speaking from my own experience, that they would want to go where there are lots of people."

Cordelia pointed at a colorfully-lit building a few blocks down the street. "Club Indigo," she said. "Plenty of people in there."

"Then come, native guide," Xander said. "Let us hunt the great white bloodsucker."

William, of course, didn't need to pee. In fact, if it was true that he was a vampire, he wasn't certain that he would ever have to pee again. That seemed very convenient.

He walked up a staircase lit all in purple and stopped at a landing with a doorway, through which he saw another dance floor. "Caverns measureless to man," he murmured to himself.

The ceiling here was lower than in the first room, and the style of the music seemed very different, with a bit more melody and less oppressive, throbbing percussion. What was more, the piece that was currently playing had words, unlike the all-instrumental stuff downstairs. He stopped and listened to the lyrics for a moment; the male vocalist was singing about not being a stepping stone.

William wasn't certain if it was the content of the lyrics or simply the beat, but he found his feet moving almost involuntarily. He had always been a poor dancer, so nervous about making mistakes in front of other people that he would end up making them anyway. But perhaps he had learned something in the intervening years.

Before he fully realized it, William had moved out onto the dance floor and started bobbing and gyrating with the others. The thoughts that always whirled around in his mind were drowned out by the loudness of the music, the feel of the beat, the flashing lights, the smell of a hundred bodies around him. He let his mind go and allowed his body to move of its own.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the tiny sliver of consciousness that still remained to him said, Perhaps this is what it is to be free.

Buffy, Wesley, and Gunn had been close by, checking the alleyways, when they got the call from Cordelia that she had a lead on Angel and Spike. The Slayer and the two L.A.-dwellers quickly made their way to Club Indigo.

When they arrived, they found Cordelia and Anya sitting around a small table, their glum expressions a stark contrast with the party atmosphere of the club. The three newcomers grabbed chairs from an empty table nearby and sat down.

"What's up?" Gunn said.

"We found Angel," Cordelia said. "But we can't get him to leave."

"He's having too much fun," Anya said. "Look."

Anya pointed across the room at Angel. He was sitting in the far corner, surrounded by a large group of young people which included a disproportionate number of attractive women. They seemed to be listening raptly to Angel as he told a story that seemed to require many large gestures.

"Well just let's go get him and get out of here," Buffy said. "We don't have time to waste." The Slayer got up and started towards Angel, but was stopped by Wesley's hand on her shoulder.

"Don't piss me off more than you have to, Wesley," she said crossly. "We have to get Angel under wraps so we can go back to looking for Dawn."

"Yes," Wesley said. "But what precisely are you going to do? Drag him back to the Hyperion?"

"If I have to."

"At best, you'll make a scene, which we do not need. Or didn't you notice that two policemen have just arrived?"

Buffy looked behind her. Two men in suits, obviously well above the average age of the club's clientele, had just walked in the door. They began pulling people aside to ask questions.

"Oh, God," Cordelia said. "This could really make things messy. But...I have an idea."

She grabbed Wesley and yanked him down next to her so he could hear her over the music. Gunn was just close enough to catch what was said. He was grinning widely.

"No!" Wesley shouted after hearing Cordelia's plan. "I certainly will not."

Cordelia pointed discreetly at the two detectives, who seemed to be working their way closer to the dance floor. "Can you come up with a better plan in the next five seconds?"

"Well, I. . .I could. . .there is always. . .No. No, I can't."

Gunn solemnly clapped Wesley on the shoulder. "Go with God, my friend."

Dejectedly, Wesley started walking across the room.

"What's going on?" Buffy asked.

"Wesley's taking one for the team," Gunn replied.

Wesley arrived at Liam's table and began making arm gestures of even greater magnitude than Liam's own. Liam looked incredibly puzzled, then angry as the crowd around him began to disperse.

"What is he doing?" Anya asked.

"I told him to go pretend to be Angel's very upset and insecure lover," Cordelia responded. "Oh, and I suggested that he mention something about a burning sensation and a recent visit to the clinic."

Buffy couldn't help it; upset as she was, she barked one loud laugh before she recovered her state of worried determination.

"Hey," she said to Cordelia, "wasn't Xander with you?"

"Yeah. He went upstairs to look for Spike."

Liam and Wesley now seemed to be yelling at each other, though the loud music prevented the sound from carrying very far. Finally, Liam complied, if sullenly, with Wesley's instruction to come along. The whole group quickly crowded around Liam and hurried him out of the club save for Anya, who went to find Xander and/or William.

"I don't understand any of ye," Liam said when they got outside. "I'm not harming anyone. I'm just doing what men do when they've some free time and a few coins in their pockets."

"You don't know this world, An- Liam," Wesley said. "You have many enemies here, enemies who would like nothing more than the opportunity to-"

"Guys," Cordelia interrupted, pointing at a police car that was cruising up the street, "less talk, more walk."

They hurried back to the Hyperion.

Xander had had a feeling that it wouldn't take long to find William. And he was right.

William was in the middle of the dance floor, bouncing and whirling around in his long coat like some kind of acid-rock ballet dancer. The expression on his face was somewhere between dreamy and maniacal. It was a look Xander had seen a few times on the face of his cousin Craig - Uncle Rory's boy - causing Xander to wonder if William was high.

Xander nudged and weaved his way around the dance floor and grabbed William by the sleeve, shaking the vampire out of his energetic reverie. "Yo, Spike, time to go home!" he shouted over the music.

The vampire turned and looked at Xander like he was a big, crunchy piece of eggshell hidden in an otherwise delicious omelet.

"My name," he replied as he snatched his sleeve from Xander's grip, "is William. And I- I will not go home! I am having one of the best evenings of my life, thank you very much, and I shan't interrupt it for anything!"

"Spike, I'd love to stand here and discuss this whole thing with you rationally," Xander said. "But the fact that you've gone insane kind of rules that out. Now let's go." He grabbed Spike's wrist and began trying to drag him off the dance floor.

"No!" William shouted. He pulled his arm away from Xander with such force that the young carpenter was hurled into the crowd, cracking heads with one of the onlookers. As Xander and the man he had hit stumbled away from each other, William screamed and grabbed the sides of his head.

"Bloody hell!" William cried. "What IS that? It's as if someone were driving a three-penny nail into my head!"

Xander staggered towards William, saying, "It's your just desserts, you big freak."

William looked up at Xander. "You're bleeding," he said.

Xander put a hand to his forehead. Blood was, indeed, trickling down from somewhere behind his hairline. "Great," he said. "Like everybody isn't already looking at us."

William stepped closer. "Yes..." he said abstractedly, never taking his eyes from Xander's forehead. "It's...oddly compelling."

"Okaaaaay," Xander said. "Backing away slowly now."

William followed Xander's every move. "Yeeeess, follow Xander and his yummy blood," Xander said hypnotically, trying to hide his anxiety at William's sudden ardor. William looked more like a zombie than a vampire, taking one step forward for every step Xander took back.

Xander lured William all the way to the stairwell before the vampire snapped out of his trance, blinking hard and shaking his head. Xander quickly wiped the blood from his forehead.

"That...that was...I'm terribly confused," William said. "First, I had unexplained headaches, and now this...obsession, with...blood. When I saw it on your forehead, I couldn't think of anything else."

"Okay, let me re-explain the part where YOU'RE A VAMPIRE," Xander said. "You drink blood. It's disgusting, but apparently it's all part of the circle of unlife. Now can we please go back to the hotel?"

"Yes, yes, fine," William said distractedly.

They walked down the stairs and out the front doors in silence, Xander steering William through the thickest parts of the crowd to avoid notice. They were almost at the Hyperion's front door when William suddenly said, "I really drink blood?"

"Yes, you do," Xander said. "It's very, very gross."

William pondered that for a moment.

"Fascinating," he said at last.

Chapter 8

Nicole D'Armand barely paused at Dawn's door before opening it, unannounced, and walking in. She then stopped dead, taking in the room with some amazement.

Clothes were everywhere-on the floor, flung over chairs, laid out on the bed, and hung from doorknobs. The floor space that wasn't taken up by clothes and shoes was dominated by books and brightly-colored magazines, as well as the occasional CD or DVD case. Posters featuring musicians and pretty, pouty young men covered the walls, including a large one of Britney Spears that had a circle with a slash through it painted across it, as well as the words, "Britney is Evil." In answer to Nicole's unasked question, a new art set lay open on the floor directly under the poster.

Nicole raised one eyebrow and let her gaze come to rest on Dawn Summers herself. The teen was sprawled on the bed watching a movie and munching on potato chips. Diogenes was curled up beside her.

"Ever think of knocking?" asked Dawn, barely glancing at Nicole. "I could've been naked in here."

"I'm psychic," responded Nicole. "I had a good idea of what you were doing before I even opened the door. What I had no idea of was the state of your room."

Diogenes, meanwhile, had raised his head, flicked an ear in irritation, and jumped off the far side of the bed, out of Nicole's sight. Dawn glanced at him.

"So it's true," remarked the teen. "Animals do sense evil." She crunched a potato chip and turned up the volume on the TV.

"Mr. Hayden wishes me to inform you that he expects you at dinner this evening," said Nicole.

"Sorry, couldn't hear you," said Dawn.

Nicole was growing more annoyed by the moment. Do you hear me now? she asked mentally.

Dawn hit "pause," stopping the DVD. "God, overreact much?" She turned, sitting up on the edge of the bed and glaring at Nicole. Today, the teen was wearing a pair of brand-new white Capri pants and a Tommy Hilfiger t-shirt. For some reason, that annoyed Nicole all the more.

"Mr. Hayden, who has graciously supplied your new wardrobe and entertainment, wishes you to attend a formal dinner with him and his project team this evening," Nicole told her.

"And I should give a shit about this why?" asked Dawn. Nicole sensed that the teen rarely, if ever, swore, and was getting a special thrill out of it now. The psychic's level of irritation edged ever higher.

"You should give a shit because if you do not come willingly, either Mr. Kogue or myself will have to fetch you."

Dawn gave an explosive sigh. "Okay, fine, whatever, I'll be there. Now, could you leave? You're scaring the cat."

"Seven o'clock. Dress nicely." Nicole left before the temptation to forcibly teach the teen some manners overwhelmed her good sense.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Dawn grinned widely. Being able to indulge her Inner Brat was small compensation for being held captive, but the teen felt she ought to take what she could get. Besides, she was developing a plan. She grabbed the remote and switched off her movie ("10 Things I Hate About You"), downed another Pringle, and made for the door. Diogenes felt compelled to follow her out of the room.

Outside, Dawn was immediately confronted by a vampire.

"Hayden said I could go anywhere I wanted in the house," said the teen. "Tag along if you have to, but would you lose the fangs? Major ick."

The vampire's face smoothed into his human countenance. "Very well," he said.

Dawn breezed past him down the hall, and the vampire followed. Well, fine, she thought. He could do what he liked. She figured there wouldn't be anything he could object to in what she was doing.

The house was large, but it didn't even take her visiting each floor do find what she wanted. A study on the top floor housed Giovanni Cassio and whatever he was working on. Grunge rock blared from a stereo, and the young man himself was sitting at a desk working at a computer terminal. Sheets of paper and empty coffee cups littered the room.

"Hey," said Dawn, loud enough to be heard over the music.

Cassio turned from the monitor and grinned at her. "Dawn, right? Is that Dawn Corleone or Bella Dawn-a?"

Dawn didn't get the joke. "Just Dawn. What'cha working on?"

Cassio gestured at his computer. "Breaking codes. That's what the boss hired me for. I'm the best."

"If you do say so yourself." Dawn walked over and took a look at his screen. It was filled with numbers and words in a language she didn't understand. "Is that, like, Italian?"

"Medieval Italian, yes. That's one of the reasons Hayden hired me. Translate the code into the language it was written in, and then translate it into English. I can do both, and, like I said, I'm the best."

"He paying you a lot?"

Cassio chuckled. "Better than anyone else has ever paid me-even the Sicilian Mafia." He took off his glasses. Dawn decided he was kind of cute, in a geeky sort of way. "I really took the job for the challenge, though. Working on an ancient code for a mystical device-"

"You're not to discuss this without Mr. Hayden present," interrupted a voice, startling both Dawn and Cassio. They started and looked at the door. The vampire who'd been shadowing Dawn stood there, back in game face. Dawn had forgotten about him. She and Cassio shared an eye-roll.

"Su gattze!" snapped Cassio at the vampire. He leaned over to Dawn, murmuring confidentially, "That means, 'Your private parts.'" She giggled.

"If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have to inform Ms. D'Armand," said the vampire.

"Fine, fine," said Cassio. "We'll be good little boys and girls, as long as you don't go screaming for that sfacciata."

"That what?" asked Dawn.

"Sfacciata. It means 'bitch,'" explained Cassio.

"Sfacciata," repeated Dawn. Cassio made her practice it a few times until she got the accent exactly right, then moved on to more colorful Italian even as he continued his work on the computer. After an hour, Dawn decided she'd made a friend.

Which meant her plan was working out splendidly.

Satisfied, Dawn bade Cassio farewell and went to explore the rest of the house. Some doors were locked, and the vampire following her appeared to have no interest in opening them for her. Dawn pouted at him and continued to explore.

Just as she was starting to feel the need to find the kitchen and demand lunch, the teen discovered a highly intriguing room. The door had been left open a crack, and Dawn peeked inside. She couldn't see anyone; therefore, she went in.

Inside was what looked a bit like a chemistry lab. There were two tables dominating the room. On one was an assortment of vials, beakers, and containers of various shapes and sizes, as well as a small burner. The other was piled with books and other objects.

It only took a cursory examination for Dawn to conclude this room was for magic, not science. Living with two witches and spending large amounts of time at a magic shop had left Dawn with a better-than-layman's knowledge of such things. She looked over the one table and examined a few containers, but didn't open them, as she'd learned the hard way that opening unfamiliar things in a room thick with magic rarely led to good things. She then went to the other table. Books, amulets, idols-Giles, no doubt, would have been able to put a name to them all. Right in the middle of the table was a bust-a head with not one, but two faces.

"Janus," said a voice. "The Roman god of fate."

Dawn froze, looking up. A tall man who looked about Giles' age was standing in the doorway behind her. "Who are you?" she asked.

"My name's Ethan Rayne, ducks. Tell me, how's old Ripper doing?"

His name rang a bell in her head, but Dawn couldn't remember where she'd heard it before. His accent was English, but different than either Giles' or Spike's. Dawn decided it was about halfway between the two. "Ripper? That's Giles, right? You know him?" she asked.

"Ripper and I go way back," said Ethan. "It's a long, sordid story. Remind me to tell you one of these days."

"I'm not planning on sticking around," said Dawn, curious to see what his reaction to her statement would be.

Ethan just shrugged. "Whatever you say, ducks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do. Not safe for children around here."

"I'm not a child," Dawn insisted sullenly. She noticed he was holding a sheet of paper in his hand. On it was a particular figure, one she'd seen on Cassio's computer screen while she'd been talking to him. "What's that?"

"Something that'll almost make up for the years of my life Ripper and his pets stole from me." Ethan set the paper on the table with the bust. "Out with you, now."

Seeing nothing else to be gained, Dawn left. She went back to her room, sending away the vampire with her lunch order (grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich on wheat bread). Then she began to go through her new wardrobe for what to wear to Hayden's dinner party. All the time she was trying on and discarding outfits, her brain was going over what she knew of each person she'd met in the house so far.

Eventually, she settled on a royal blue silk sheath dress and Gianni Cassio. Yes, he seemed to be the likeliest prospect. After the dinner tonight, she'd have even more information. Then she could go to Phase 2 of her plan.

Satisfied, she hung up the dress again, then flopped on the bed and finished watching her movie.

Liam was bored out of his mind.

Not that he was about to bring this up to anyone. The previous night, after his evening had been so rudely and humiliatingly cut short and he'd been hustled back to his apparent home, he had turned angrily on the one Englishman - Wesley. They'd argued, Liam growing increasingly irritated with the other man's calm, and then the older Englishman - the one the others called Giles - had joined them. His attitude and manner were strikingly reminiscent of Liam's father. Liam had gotten off a few good insults before Giles had forcibly put an end to the argument.

Exactly what he'd done was still a mystery to Liam, but without any warning, the Irishman had been off his feet and on the ground with Giles' foot on his chest, pinning him down. The most frightening part, though, was the look in the Englishman's eyes as he'd spoken in a quiet, seething tone.

"Listen very carefully," Giles said. "There is a child out there who is alone, afraid, and very likely in grave danger. I happen to love her very much. We are searching for her, and if your attitude results in a delay that brings her any harm, I will drive a stake through your heart myself."

Then he'd abruptly released Liam and left the room. Wesley had offered him a hand up.

"He's in earnest," Liam realized.

"In most profound earnest," Wesley agreed. "Mr. Giles has little enough reason to like you in ordinary times, Liam. I don't suggest you cross him." Wesley sighed. "We're going to try to disenchant you and William, but until then, you should probably try to keep a low profile. Do you understand?"

Liam had. A few hours of keeping out of everyone's way, though, had led to a serious case of boredom. At the moment, he was on the balcony overlooking the lobby, observing the others.

Wesley, Giles, Gunn the Moor, the pretty girl going by the unlikely name of Fred, Willow the cute redhead, and tiny blond Buffy were clustered around a table with a map on it. Liam focused on them, picking out their conversation with his sharp ears.

". . . it only took us a little over an hour to get here," Buffy was saying. "How long was it between the time Cordy's vision hit and when you called us?"

"I'd not say it was much over an hour," Wesley answered. "That's counting the time it took us to get there, search the house, and regroup here."

"And you said the occupants of the house hadn't been gone long, correct?" asked Giles.

"Angel believed they'd been gone no more than ten minutes," said Wesley.

"They were at the second house by the time we got here," said Willow. "So wherever Dawn is, it's less than two hours away."

Wesley removed his glasses. "Cordelia!" he called. The lovely young woman appeared from somewhere out of Liam's line of sight. Craning his neck, the Irishman discovered he had a nice view down her shirt. Wesley was talking again. "Cordy, in your vision, did you sense you were on the water?"

"Nope," she said. "It felt like solid ground to me, and I didn't smell the ocean. Just roses."

"So we can rule out anything off-shore," murmured Giles.

"We can probably rule out beach houses, too," pointed out Willow. "I mean, the ocean? Pretty stinky. But in a good way."

"So basically, anywhere in the city," said Buffy, sounding disappointed.

Cordelia shook her head. "No. I could see stars. That hasn't happened in L.A. since they invented smog. Besides, the city lights were pretty distant."

"We're most likely looking at something outside Los Angeles proper, perhaps overlooking the city," said Wesley. He started gesturing at the map again, and Liam officially lost interest.

Xander, the dark-haired young man, was off to one side talking with the other skinny blond-Anya, that was her name. It looked like they were arguing. Liam focused in on them.

"An, I am not in love with Cordy - I mean, Cordelia," Xander stated. "Pretty much got over that years ago."

"But you did have a long-term affair with her," said Anya. "Are you telling me you're no longer attracted to her and her breasts?"

Liam chuckled. This did sound like an interesting conversation.

"No!" protested Xander. "I mean, yes, she's . . . pretty. But she and I were over before I even met you. Remember? Me being young, hormonal, and stupid, cheating on her with my now-gay best friend, her dumping me, you getting called in to wreak vengeance? Hence, the whole me not being with Cordy anymore and being with you thing."

Anya folded her arms across her breasts. "Do you still think of her, and the orgasms you used to have with her?"

"Anya!" gasped Xander, looking around. Liam was fairly certain the young man couldn't see him, so he felt free to laugh. "Anya, it doesn't matter what I did with Cordelia. We had a whole big thing going on, and then it blew up on account of me being stupid. But you know what? Even if she did, for whatever reason, want to get back together with me, I wouldn't. I'm in love with you. Just you. I don't want anybody else. Okay?"

Anya still looked unhappy. "Then why can't I tell anyone you asked me to marry you?" Liam's eyebrows jumped. So, men were still using that trick, were they?

"Look, it's just not the time, okay?" said Xander, attempting to placate her. "Dawn's in trouble, and-"

"Dawn's always in trouble," Anya interrupted. "And if she isn't, someone else is. You've always got an excuse, Xander, and I'm getting sick of it." She turned on her heel and joined the others at the table. Xander sighed in exasperation and was about to follow her when he was intercepted by William.

"Excuse me, Alexander, but may I have a word with you?" asked the white-haired Englishman.

"Sure, why not? Make it my best day ever," muttered Xander. William looked perplexed, and the dark-haired man sighed. "What?"

"I, er, attempted to speak with Miss Maclay this morning," said William. "I fear she was a trifle - well, evasive. Could it be that my frankly uncouth behavior of last night has lowered her opinion of me?"

Xander set a hand on William's shoulder. "William, buddy, trust me on this: nothing could possibly make Tara's opinion of you lower than it already is."

It took William a minute to grasp the insult, during which time Xander had joined the others at the table.

"Of all the . . ." sputtered William. "Americans!" The white-haired vampire stormed away.

Mid-chuckle, Liam noticed Cordelia moving off. An idea occurred to him. Actually, several ideas, most of which would have made William faint. Liam moved down the staircase, taking care not to draw any attention to himself, and skirted the group at the table. They were involved enough in what they were doing that none took notice of him, save for Buffy.

When her gaze caught his, Liam froze. A strong sensation of recognition flooded him, along with a number of tangled emotions he couldn't begin to make sense of. It wasn't entirely pleasant. Liam tugged his gaze from hers in order to continue in the direction he'd seen Cordelia headed, and very nearly tripped over Tara.

"S-sorry!" she gasped, pulling back so fast Liam had to catch her to keep her from falling. The feeling of her warm, soft body next to his was enough to give him a head rush.

"Not at all, sweeting," he murmured.

"Um . . ." Tara fumbled her way free of Liam's grasp, and he watched, amused, as she hurried over to Willow's side. He'd noticed that those two seemed especially close. Bosom friends, no doubt.

He caught Cordelia's scent again as he neared a particular door. Intoxicated, he breathed it in deep and entered the room as quietly as he could, pulling the door shut behind him.

Cordelia was sitting at a desk inside the room, holding her head in her hands as if she had a bad headache. Liam smirked. He knew just how to fix that. Walking up behind her, he set his large hands on her shoulders. She jerked.

"God, Angel!" she snapped. "Give a girl a little warning when you're sneaking up, would you?" She batted his hands away and stood to face him.

"Sorry, Delia," he said, not at all apologetic.

"Cor-delia," she reminded him. "Only my senile grandmother calls me Delia. Speaking of senile, you're still stuck in the past, aren't you?"

"Is it so bad?" He stepped forward, and Cordelia took a step away, skirting the desk. "Tell me, Cordelia, what am I to you?"

"Friend. Just friend."

"Never a lover?"

"Most definitely not."

He stepped forward again, and she moved another step back, putting the desk between them. "Am I so benighted in the future that I've not courted you?"

She continued to back away as he advanced. "Liam, trust me on this: things are, to say the least, complicated beyond words. Courting - strictly a no-no. Understand?"

"No," he said frankly. "I don't understand what could possibly be so complicated between a man and a woman - especially a woman as beautiful as you." He reached out, brushing her hair with his fingers. "Unless you've taken Holy Orders. Is that why your hair is so short?"

"No - I mean, yes! Yes, Holy Orders. Trespassing on the sacred here, which is not good for a vampire, which you are . . ."

She was backed against the wall. Liam gave her a lazy smile. "Then I suppose I must content myself with a kiss, stolen from God."

His mouth came down on hers, and suddenly, he felt like he was indeed touching something sacred. Her scent was like the smells rising from a rich banquet laid out in front of him. He could hear her heart beating, the blood rushing through her veins. The warmth from her body stole the chill from his, and he felt like her life was entering him, like if only he could draw on it, he would be alive as he'd never been before . . .

William had managed to catch up to Tara. "Miss Maclay, may I have a moment of your time?" he asked diffidently.

The witch sighed inwardly. She just couldn't get away from the vampires today. "Okay."

He drew her a little aside from the others. "Miss Maclay, I fear I've given you rather a wrong impression of myself. Believe me when I say my behavior last night was an anomaly, and I cannot explain or excuse it except perhaps to say that due to the rather bizarre occurrences of late, and the corrupting influence of that odious Irishman, I'm not quite myself. It would pain me no end to have lost whatever regard you have for me, Miss Maclay, and I most humbly beg your indulgence - and your pardon."

His manner was so sincere, and so unlike Spike's usual demeanor, that Tara's heart went out to him even as she remained baffled as to why the regressed vampire had picked her to crush on. "It's okay, William. I understand."

His face lit up with a totally un-Spike-ish smile. "You are indeed the kindest and most genteel of women, then. Perhaps at some time when this current crisis is past, you would consent to have tea with me?"

"William," Tara began, not at all sure of where to go from here. "William, I-I'm afraid that's not exactly . . ." She trailed off.

"Oh." William was visibly crestfallen. "Oh. Well. I quite understand, Miss Maclay. I am not the suitor you wish, then."

Tara felt like she'd committed a minor murder. "William, no, it's-it's not like that. You're very sweet. It's just that . . ." She decided to just spit it out. "I'm a lesbian."

"Lesbian?" William looked puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't understand what your nationality has to do with . . . I say, was that a scream?"

Just then, Buffy sprang up from the table, leaped over the couch, and bolted for the closed office.

"Most indecorous," sniffed William. "That young woman . . . Miss Maclay?"

Tara and the others raced to join Buffy at the office door, which she'd kicked open. Inside was an incongruous tableau. Cordelia stood frozen against one wall, eyes wide with fear and locked on Liam, who was curled up in the opposite corner, covering his face. One of Cordelia's hands rose and touched her neck. That was when everyone noticed the two tiny streaks of blood on it.

"Cordy, you okay?" demanded Buffy.

"I-I . . ." Cordelia swallowed hard. "I'm okay."

"He attacked you?" asked Xander, glaring angrily at Liam's cowering form.

Cordelia looked at the blood on her fingers, dazed. "He-he didn't mean to. He didn't know . . ."

Wesley brushed past Buffy and went to Cordelia, examining her neck briefly, then leading her back to the group. "She's all right, but I think Angel's-"

"Everybody else leave," ordered Buffy. Wesley looked at her. "Leave. I'll handle this."

Slowly, reluctantly, everyone but Buffy withdrew from the room. She entered completely then, drawing the door shut behind her before she crossed the room to kneel in front of Liam.

He was murmuring something under his breath, barely speaking audibly. Buffy listened.

"I'm a monster," he was saying, again and again.

"Angel. Liam," she said gently, and reached out to touch him.

He cringed, turning his face as far away from her as he could, hiding. "No! I'm a monster, a demon. Stay away!"

"It's okay," she reassured him. "I've seen you like this before. It's okay, Liam. Just try to relax. Breathe. I know you don't need to, but it helps. Just relax."

Buffy continued her soothing monologue, stroking his hair and touching his hands as she did so. Little by little, the tension ebbed from his shoulders, and finally, he raised his human face from his hands.

"What am I?" he whispered.

"A-a vampire," Buffy answered. "But-"

"How long?" Liam interrupted before Buffy could explain further.

"About 250 years."

"I tried to bite her." Liam swallowed. "I drink blood . . . I kill."

"No, you don't," Buffy countered. "Not anymore."

"Not anymore?" He looked at her. "How many did I . . ?" Buffy paused, and Liam demanded again, "How many?"

"I-I'm not sure. I don't know. A lot."

There was silence then. Liam's eyes grew dark, haunted, and Buffy suddenly saw how Angel could have grown out of this carefree young man.

"Liam," she said urgently, leaning even closer to him. "Liam, you have to listen to me. That's not you anymore. That's-"

"My family," he interrupted again. "What happened to my family?"

Buffy froze. That was one question she was completely unprepared to answer. "They're dead," she finally said. "It's been centuries."

"How did they die?" Liam pressed.

Buffy couldn't answer. She didn't have to. Liam's eyes grew wide with horror.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Liam breathed. "I didn't - I couldn't have . . . Did I kill them?"

"You weren't - you weren't yourself," Buffy whispered through a tight throat.

The horror only grew in Liam's face. "No. No, please tell me no. My father, my mother . . . what about Kathy? Little Kathy?"

Buffy closed her eyes. "Liam . . ."

"Did I kill them?!" Liam shouted.

And Buffy could only answer, "Yes."

"Dear God. Sweet Jesus." Liam rocked back and forth. "I'm a monster."

"Liam, please . . ."

"Mother, Father, Kathy. Sweet little Kathy."

"Liam, you have to listen to me-"

"My baby sister. What have I done? My little dearie . . ."

"Liam!" Buffy grabbed his face in her hands. "You didn't have your soul back then. You couldn't stop yourself. But it's not that way anymore. You're good. You help people. You've helped me before, and I need you now. I need you!"

"Sweet little Kathy . . ."

"You can't help her now!" Buffy burst out. Liam stared at her, shocked, and Buffy went on. "You can't. I know you wish . . . but you can't. That's why you help other people. Right now, my own little sister is missing. I love her just as much as you loved your Kathy. Dawn's alone and in danger, and you can help me find her."

"How do you know?" Liam whispered.

"Because I know you," Buffy stated firmly. "You've always been there for me when I needed you. You're someone I've always been able to turn to when things are at their worst." She took his hands in hers. "Please, Liam, Angel, help me now."

He disentangled one of his hands from hers and brought it up to cup her face. "I will try," he whispered. Buffy covered his hand with hers. "Do you know me well, Buffy?"

"I do. You're a good man," she reassured him. "Things are just . . ."

"Complicated?" he ventured. She nodded, and he smiled just a little. "I'm beginning to understand." He bent forward and found her lips for the gentlest of kisses. "I'll help you find your sister. I don't know how, but I'll try. For Kathy."

"I know. I always know." Buffy stood and pulled him to his feet. "Come on. Let's do this. For Kathy."

Dawn was precisely ten minutes late for dinner with Hayden. Unfortunately for her Inner Brat, that didn't inconvenience Hayden greatly, as Cassio was twenty minutes late. That left Dawn ten minutes to glare at Hayden, Nicole (who was wearing a stunning red evening gown), Ethan, and Kogue. Hayden chatted lightly with Nicole and Ethan as Dawn sulked, and eventually, the teen decided to join the conversation.

"I finally figured out who you are," she said to Ethan. "You turned me into a fairy on Halloween when I was eleven."

"Ah, yes, that Halloween," said Ethan, swirling the wine in his glass. "Some of my best work, that. Hope you had fun, ducks."

"Well, the flying part was kind of cool," Dawn admitted. "The stealing a baby part wasn't, though. Buffy was almost as freaked out as I was. Do you have any idea how long it took us to figure out who the parents were?"

"That sort of thing is what makes life interesting." Ethan winked at her over his wineglass. "Chaos. You ought to try it sometime."

"Apparently, you haven't seen her room," commented Nicole. Dawn rolled her eyes.

Cassio walked in just then, still in a ratty t-shirt and jeans. He acknowledged no one and sat at his place at the table, glaring at his empty coffee cup like he found it somehow offensive.

"Hey, Gianni," Dawn said.

"Hello, bambina," said the Italian. He scratched his head distractedly, dislodging the pen tucked behind his ear. "Where's my coffee?"

Hayden signaled a server, and within moments, a bowl of soup appeared before each person except Kogue. He received instead a large piece of raw meat. "Well, now that we're all here, we can talk about our project," said Hayden.

"Your project," corrected Dawn. "I don't have anything to do with it."

"Actually, you have a great deal to do with it," said Hayden. "Eat up. The soup's delicious. Gianni, I understand you overcame your last obstacle."

Cassio nodded, his mouth full. He swallowed and said, "It should be ready for testing tomorrow, if your people are as good as you think they are."

"Excellent. And you're ready, Mr. Rayne?"

"Whenever you are," said Ethan. "Fine piece of sorcery you've got set up for me. Not as much fun as the last, but far more profitable."

"Ah, yes." Hayden looked at Nicole. "On that account, how are our friends doing?"

"Baffled, as far as I can tell," said the psychic. "They have no idea what's going on."

"Are any of you planning to explain what you're yammering about?" demanded Dawn.

"Well, Dawn, Mr. Rayne here came up with a rather ingenious way to take your vampire friends out of the picture," explained Hayden with a nod to Ethan.

Dawn's eyes grew wide. "Did he kill them?"

" 'Course not," scoffed Ethan. "Death is too easy. The rest of your friends could've just stepped over a couple of piles of dust, and it would've pissed off the Slayer even more. What I've done will keep them occupied far longer. Chaos, ducks - it's stronger than death."

"Buffy won't let anything stop her from finding me," Dawn shot back.

"That's probably true," agreed Hayden. "Which is why we'll have to move you before long. Right now, we're at a critical stage, and all we really need is to keep your people nicely distracted until we can finish our testing. That shouldn't take too long."

Dawn rolled her eyes and set down her spoon with a thump. "Will you just explain what's going on, already?"

Hayden appeared unfazed by her display of temper. "Actually, I think it's time I did. Tell me, Dawn: have you ever heard of alchemy?"

"Nicholas Flamel, the Sorcerer's Stone, yeah," said Dawn. A round of blank stares met her. "God, doesn't anybody over 18 read Harry Potter? Yes, I know what it is. Turning lead into gold or something stupid like that."

Hayden chuckled. "It took me a moment to get your reference, but now I do remember. I sent my niece those books for Christmas, you know. In any case, you've got the basic concept. Alchemy was a minor obsession in the Middle Ages, but no one managed to actually do it except for one man: Fausto Tesorieri.

"I'd heard of Tesorieri through the work of another alchemist, and what I learned intrigued me. I finally managed to track his diaries down - in a library in Florence, would you believe. That was almost a decade ago. I put my top people to work translating them in hopes of discovering his secret. Unfortunately, he kept his most important notes in code, which is why I had to bring in Mr. Cassio here." Cassio's head popped up at the mention of his name. Hayden went on.

"Tesorieri constructed an alchemy engine that actually worked, Dawn. It was amazing, the work he put into it, the absolute genius of the design. It took years, but I finally managed to put together one of my own. But there's a problem with it: the original power source is missing.

"Tesorieri didn't use the Sorcerer's Stone - or, properly, the Philosopher's Stone - he used the Staff of Lythos. Now, you see, alchemy takes a great deal of energy, and Tesorieri finally figured out that the only way to concentrate that much energy was to channel it from other dimensions. That's what the Staff did. Unfortunately, it was lost centuries ago. I tried to track it down, but about a year ago, I finally gave up all hope and started looking for an alternative power source.

"I was just about at the end of my rope, Dawn, when Nicole felt a psychic earthquake from up in your neck of the woods. She sensed a multidimensional power so intense it could rip apart the universe."

"Me," said Dawn, not even slightly impressed.

"You." Hayden beamed at her. "The energy of the Key is strong enough to power my alchemy engine and put the last piece into my puzzle, Dawn. For the last few months, we've been working on altering the alchemy engine to work with your energy, and the time has come to test it."

The servers had come back in to remove the soup bowls and place the main course on the table. Dawn barely even looked at her food.

"Let me get this straight," she said. "You want to use a blob of universe-destroying energy for a get-rich-quick scheme?"

"Why not?" shrugged Ethan. He was apparently savoring his meal and the wine choices with it. "There are worse things than being rich."

"Is this all part of your plans for chaos, too?" asked Dawn sarcastically.

"No," replied Ethan. "I'm doing this for Hayden because he sprang me from that hellhole I was in. They were so uptight about sorcery there they wouldn't even let me have spices in my food."

Hayden waved away Dawn's objection. "I'm not doing this for the money, Dawn. I love the challenge. This is the greatest puzzle of my life, bringing together history, science, and the supernatural in one magnificent project. Why, just look at this team." He spread out his hands, indicating everyone in the room. "We have an English sorcerer, a demon originally from Siberia, a French psychic, an Italian cryptologist, a whole team of American, German, and Japanese engineers who, sadly, were not able to join us, and you - an energy Key of unknown origin, wrapped up in the flesh and blood of an all-American girl. This is the kind of thing I live for."

"You're freaking insane," Dawn stated bluntly. "You know, my friend Spike is a vampire without a soul, but he protects me because he likes me. You're supposed to have a soul, but you take me away from everything and everyone I love because of your pet project. I'm just a thing to you, just like I was to Glory. At least she admitted she was a monster." Dawn threw down her napkin. "Excuse me. I think I've got to barf now."

She stood up from her seat and stalked out of the dining hall. Enraged, she stormed her way back to her room. Just as soon as she'd reached the door, however, her arm was caught.

Nicole D'Armand's icy blue eyes met Dawn's. "You have much to learn about etiquette. Mr. Hayden is your host, and you will not be rude to him."

"Mr. Hayden is my kidnapper, and I'll do whatever I damn well want to," Dawn almost shouted back, yanking her arm free from Nicole's grasp.

"Listen, petite chienne," Nicole hissed. "You are being indulged because Mr. Hayden needs you for his 'pet project,' as you put it. If your attitude impedes him, he will not put up with it. And I am very much looking forward to teaching you some manners."

"And I am very much," said Dawn, mocking Nicole's accent, "looking forward to watching my sister kick your ass."

Nicole laughed, low and deadly. "Then you will be waiting a long time. As for this project, you had best pray it works. If it does not, Mr. Hayden will have to recoup his losses by selling the Key to the highest bidder." Dawn blanched. "How would you like that? Perhaps we could even find someone like Glory to take you. Someone to tie you up and slice you open to drain your blood. Shallow cuts . . ."

Dawn felt it: Nicole's touch in her mind, dredging up the horrifying memories of being tied up, waiting for her death, feeling the knife cuts, watching Buffy leap into the void. The psychic was deliberately bringing those memories to the fore, enjoying Dawn's discomfort.

And Dawn was suddenly furious again. As the emotions of that night came flooding back, the teen took them and imagined herself physically throwing them at Nicole, using them as a weapon.

Nicole flinched. Her right hand went to her side, just where Dawn had been cut the first time, and Dawn felt the psychic's mind withdraw. Nicole's face had gone white, and she was even shaking a little.

"If you can't handle it," said Dawn coldly, "stay out of my brain." The teen went into her room and slammed the door, leaving Nicole outside, badly shaken.

Chapter 9

Buffy tried to step lightly. By this time, almost everyone had gone back to bed, but she was too wired to sleep. Seeing the way Angel - Liam, rather - had been after biting Cordelia had proved surprisingly disturbing to her. She knew well how much of a burden Angel's guilt about his past had always been to him, the way it filled his silences and darkened his face at all times, even when he smiled. But to see it so raw and new, as though he were experiencing it for the first time, was a horrible thing.

She went down the staircase into the lobby, where her early-morning wanderings would disturb no one. Or so she thought.

"Oh, hi," a small voice said. Buffy turned and saw Fred, the wispy, elusive girl who had barely spoken two words in Buffy's presence. Fred was sitting on the couch with a laptop computer on her knees. The light of the screen made her face glow pale blue in the dimly-lit lobby.

"Hi," Buffy said. "I thought everybody else was in bed."

"I was," Fred said. "But sometimes the thoughts just start whirling around in my head, and it's kind of like trying to sleep with the blender on. So I came down here to sort things out, and then it beeped."

"What beeped?" Buffy asked.

"The computer. It's got a partial translation of the page we found."

"Really? Should we wake up Giles, or-"

"No, there's not too much that makes sense. It looks like part of the plans for some sort of machine."

"A machine that turns lead into gold," Buffy deduced.

"I think so. It talks about a, a chamber, to hold a really big power source."

"Dawn," Buffy breathed.

Fred nodded.

"Oh, God. If they need her energy, then...what if they need her blood?" Buffy said with increasing alarm. "What if they kill her?"

"I don't think they will," Fred said. "Not if they can avoid it. If they're really building Tesorieri's machine, then they'll want to keep Dawn alive for as long as they can. She's their golden goose, literally. I mean, the golden part is literal, not the goose part."

"You're probably right," Buffy said. "I just hate the idea of someone using her like a tool."

"It's awful," Fred said, her eyes suddenly distant. "Taken away from home, to someplace where she doesn't know anybody, having to do whatever they say, or else they'll-" She stopped herself and smiled awkwardly. "I'm sure she's all right."

"Thanks," Buffy said.

"I just wish I understood about the subatomic particles."

"Okay, that was kind of a hairpin turn in the conversation," Buffy said.

"Sorry. I'm trying to figure out the alchemy machine. I mean, sure, anybody can change one element into another. Anybody with a nuclear reactor, anyway. It's all just about moving the protons and neutrons around. Did you take chemistry in high school?"

"Um, occasionally. Is that the class where the teacher smells kind of funny and always wears sweater vests?"

"I don't know," Fred said. "That could just as easily be English Lit. Anyway, all elements are just different combinations of protons, neutrons, and electrons. Electrons will practically jump if you look at them crosseyed, but protons and neutrons are hard to move around. It takes a lot of energy."

"Which is why they need Dawn," Buffy deduced.

"Right. If the Key has enough energy to open a portal to every dimension at once, it can certainly pull a few atomic nuclei apart."

"Okay, so this thing turns atoms into Legos. Take 'em apart, put 'em back together, build whatever you want."

"No!" Fred cried, giving Buffy a start. "Sorry," Fred said. "Didn't mean to yell. It's just that it's not that simple. There are so many elements and isotopes, and there's no way to control which one you're going to get. You might be able to turn lead into something, but it probably won't be gold; more likely, you'll get a lump of osmium, or some arsenic, or a big cloud of hydrogen that blows up in your face. Even with magic, I don't know how you could make all the particles come together in just the right way to make gold."

"Well, I hope they've figured it out," Buffy said. "Because if they try to turn lead into gold and get a big batch of extra-crispy carbon instead, they might decide that keeping Dawn alive isn't worth the trouble."

Dawn had hoped to be rescued before this moment arrived.

She was sitting on her bed listening to a CD that Hayden had given her, a strange brew of American pop vocals backed by an Indonesian gamelan orchestra - she kind of liked it, though Dawn would never in a million years tell her captor so. She was also trying to draw a picture of Diogenes, who had fallen asleep in a patch of sunlight on the windowsill. Then she heard the door open behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"It is time," Nicole said. "Come with me."

Dawn turned and saw the telepath standing in the doorway, flanked by a couple of vampires. She glanced down the hall past Nicole-

"Don't bother," Nicole said. "You won't get past the vampires. And they can easily carry you downstairs without hurting you...much."

"Whatever," Dawn said stonily. "Let's just get it over with."

Dawn walked between the two vampires like the prisoner she was, eyes downcast. Nicole led them down the front stairs to the front hall, then turned and walked down a wood-paneled hallway towards the back of the house. She stopped halfway down the corridor, took a key from her jacket pocket, and opened a door to her left, revealing cement stairs that went down.

The change in decor was very abrupt. Above ground, Hayden's house was all dark wood and the muted light of shaded lamps. The basement stairs, on the other hand, were gray-white concrete, illuminated by bare bulbs fixed to the ceiling. The stairs went down a good fifty feet before they ended in a concrete-walled room.

The room was perhaps thirty feet square and bustling with activity. Ethan Rayne stood in the middle of the room as white-coated technicians scurried around him, sometimes stopping to report some bit of information to him or to receive instructions. Two more techs pecked away at the twin keyboards of a console at the far end of the room. The console was set in front of a large window that appeared to be made of extremely thick glass.

As Dawn was led into the room, she could see more technicians behind the glass. They stood in front of two boxes covered in what looked like lead plating. One box was about five feet square, the other a bit more than two feet on a side. The boxes were very close together and were connected by a short, five-inch wide pipe, also made of lead.

Ethan saw them come in and looked over at Dawn. "Ah, our power source has arrived. Are you ready to make alchemical history, child?"

"Bite me," Dawn said sullenly.

"Perhaps later," Ethan said with a sardonic smile.

Just then, Cassio entered the room from what appeared to be a small office next door. "I have double-checked everything," he said to Rayne. "If we are all blown to tiny pieces, it will not be because of the translation. Eh, bambina," he said, noticing Dawn and the nervous look on her face. "Don't worry about nothing. This won't hurt more than a mosquito bite."

"Good," said a voice from the stairway door. Lucas Hayden walked in with Kogue just behind him. "I don't want our lovely Key getting tarnished. Are you certain that the shielding poses no problem, Mr. Rayne?"

"It shouldn't affect the functioning of the machine, no," Ethan replied.

"W-why do you need all that lead?" Dawn asked nervously.

"Fausto Tesorieri, according to legend, died a few hours after he first used this machine. We believe that the device emits large amounts of ionizing radiation when in operation. Don't worry, you'll be well protected." He looked over at his two lieutenants. "Nicole, Kogue, put her in the power chamber."

The blonde telepath and the bulky demon both started towards her. Dawn's eyes widened. "Hey!" she shouted. "I'll go myself, all right? You don't need to get all handsy."

Nicole and Kogue merely followed as Dawn walked into the room containing the two boxes. Kogue pulled open the heavy, lead-plated door on the front of the larger box and pointed for Dawn to go inside. Gulping, Dawn complied.

The interior of the chamber looked nothing like the outside. The inside of the box was all wood - pine, with some sort of finish that made it darker. All along the wooden walls were a variety of strange symbols cut from gold leaf. Additionally, there was a wooden chair in front of a circular steel tube, about four inches in diameter, which protruded from the side of the box. Dawn realized that the tube must be part of the pipe that connected this box to the other.

"Sit down," Nicole ordered. Dawn complied, albeit slowly. The chair creaked a bit as she sat. She could now see into the tube in front of the chair. It appeared to be lined with black rubber, and, at the back of it, Dawn could see a hunk of some sort of purple crystal.

"Give me your hand," Nicole said. She was reaching for something in her pocket.

"What are you going to do?" Dawn said. She couldn't hide her anxiety now, even if Nicole hadn't been a mind reader.

Nicole didn't even bother to answer. She just snatched up Dawn's wrist with cobra-like speed as her other hand darted out from her pocket. Dawn felt a sharp pricking sensation on her fingertip. When Nicole withdrew her hand, Dawn saw that her finger was bleeding, and that Nicole had a tiny lancet between her fingers.

"Ow!" Dawn cried, more with outrage than pain. Before she could make any other response, Nicole forced Dawn's hand into the steel tube and onto the crystal inside. A drop of blood smeared onto the smooth, faceted surface.

Suddenly, the inside of the tube contracted around Dawn's wrist. Her hand was now trapped against the crystal.

"Relax," Nicole said in a tone that was not remotely relaxing. "It will be over in a few minutes." She stepped back and closed the box; there was a small puff of air as the door sealed tight.

If Dawn had been nervous before, she was flat-out scared now.

Ethan Rayne glanced down at the sheet of paper in his hands. Cassio had given him the invocation days ago, and Rayne had more or less memorized it, but in a situation like this, where so much risk and potential reward were involved, it was best not to leave anything to chance.

"Are we ready, Mr. Rayne?" Lucas Hayden asked.

"Very nearly, Mr. Hayden," Rayne said.

A technician had opened the other, smaller box next to Dawn's and was placing a square tray of lead powder inside. Once the tray was centered inside the box, the tech closed the small door, made certain that it was sealed properly, and came back out to the control room. The door to the experimental chamber automatically shut behind him. The tech nodded at Rayne and then got out of the way.

"Very well, then," Ethan said. "It's time to change the world."

He held up his sheet of paper and began to recite.

"Spiriti tenebrarum, servi Plutonis et Hecates, vos invoco..."

Dawn felt a funny tingling in her hand, originating in the fingertip that Nicole had punctured. She couldn't help staring down at the tube that gripped her wrist; she thought there was a tiny bit of light emanating from inside it, around her hand. The chamber was vibrating slightly, and there was a low-pitched hum that was getting louder. Dawn also found that the chamber was getting warmer, and she was beginning to perspire. She was breathing a little harder, too. Was it the heat, or fear, or something else?

As the tingling sensation moved up her arm, Dawn realized that she didn't really want to find out.

"How much longer, Mr. Rayne?" Hayden asked.

"Any moment now," the warlock said, his eyes glued to a timer on the main console. Forty seconds had passed since Rayne had spoken the invocation and activated the machine.

The two lead-covered boxes began to glow white, rapidly growing brighter and brighter. Light flooded the room until the onlookers were forced to cover their eyes. Cassio, who was standing in the back of the room, found the light unbearably bright even through his eyelids; he had to cover his eyes with his hands to block it out.

And then the light abruptly faded. Everyone removed their hands from their faces and gazed about dazedly except for Kogue, who, being from the white expanses of the far north, had eyes that were better adapted to the glare.

When Hayden recovered from his dazzlement, he turned to the crew of techs. "Check the sample," he said.

A technician, dressed in a yellow protective suit and helmet and carrying what looked like a small metal suitcase, stepped out the door of the rear laboratory. He waved for everyone to back away from the door to the experimental chamber. When they had done so, he opened the metal door, entered the room, and opened up the smaller of the two lead boxes. Hayden, Ethan Rayne, and Cassio stepped up to the thick glass window to watch.

The tech removed the sample tray. The metallic powder at the outer edges of the tray still had the color of lead, but the center portion was a silvery white. Cassio's brow furrowed, but when he looked over at Hayden, he saw the man nod approvingly to himself. Cassio gave him a questioning look, but Hayden did not respond. He simply watched the tech seal the sample tray into the case and then carry it out of the experimental chamber, through the control room, and into the laboratory in the rear. As he passed Lucas, the tech said, "We'll have the results of the analysis in a few minutes, Mr. Hayden." Ethan Rayne turned and followed the tech into the lab.

"I'll wait for them," Hayden replied. "Nicole, Kogue, go and retrieve Dawn, if you please."

As his two lieutenants entered the experimental chamber, Hayden pressed a button on the console marked "Restraint". Cassio assumed he was freeing Dawn from whatever was keeping her connected to the crystal conduit inside the box.

Dawn was barely conscious when they opened the door. Her skin appeared pale and clammy, and she was clutching her right wrist in her left hand. Kogue half-carried her back into the control room and sat her down on a chair in the corner.

The rear door opened, and Rayne emerged with the technician. Hayden looked at them expectantly.

"It appears we're in luck," the warlock said.

"The center of the tray contains at least fifty cubic centimeters of material, ninety-four percent pure or better," the technician added.

"Pure what?" Cassio blurted. "That did not look like gold."

"My dear young friend," Hayden replied, with a smile that made Cassio's stomach tighten, "whoever said we were trying to make gold?"

"Then what-"

"I'm afraid," Hayden cut in, "that Fausto Tesorieri, despite his brilliance, never accomplished his goal. Not his fault, really - neither he nor any of his contemporaries could have had the knowledge of subatomic physics that the task of turning lead into gold requires. But there was still the possibility of accidental discoveries. And, in Tesorieri's case, it was a discovery that would not be repeated for another four hundred years.

"The device doesn't make gold, Cassio. It makes plutonium."

Chapter 10

Willow and Tara were in the kitchen shaking white powder into a huge steel bowl when Gunn burst in.

"Morning, ladies," he said cheerily. He looked quizzically at the bowl. "What kinda magic is that?"

"Just the magic we call breakfast," Willow said. "We're making pancakes. Want to help?"

"I would," Gunn said, "but they tell me my pancakes taste like used tiles from the Space Shuttle. Besides, I've got something for y'all." He waved a piece of paper. "I tracked down those fancy getaway cars from the Dj Vu to a custom manufacturer here in L.A. They all require IDs and background checks before they'll sell cars like those. Of course, all the customer's online credit and Motor Vehicles records disappeared as soon as the cars were out of the showroom."

"So how does that help?" Tara asked.

"I think I recognize the workmanship on the IDs," Gunn explained. "Looks like Wally Deevers, a local punk. Got his start making fake IDs for college kids."

"And, um," Willow said, "how do you know this guy?"

"'Cause I used to bounce those same college kids out of a bar in Westwood, whenever I needed crossbow-string money. Anyhow, I'm gonna go shake this guy down, and I thought Buffy might want to come along. I could use the extra arms," he added, holding up his cast-encased left wrist. "She awake?"

"Probably," Willow said. "She doesn't need as much sleep as the rest of us."

"Cool," Gunn said. "See you later."

Once Gunn left, Tara said, "I hope Gunn knows what he's doing."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked.

"He wants to shake somebody down, but...I don't think he knows how hard Buffy can shake."

Dawn had slept for nearly eleven hours before it even occurred to her to open her eyes. When she did, she found herself back in her room at Lucas Hayden's house. Someone had put her into her most comfortable nightgown and tucked her into bed, even leaving a glass of water by her bedside. Feeling parched, she drank it greedily.

She tried to get up. Her legs were wobbly, however, reminding her of a newborn giraffe she had once seen on Animal Planet. She leaned on her bed for support, but the moment she stepped away from it, she fell in a heap on the deep-pile carpet.

The door opened, and Mrs. Abbey, Hayden's maid or servant or whatever she was, entered. "Did you fall?" she asked neutrally.

"No, I'm looking for Stuart Little," Dawn said caustically. "Of course I fell!"

"Now, now, Dawn," Hayden said, emerging from behind his housekeeper, "I'm certain Mrs. Abbey only wants to help you. Come, let me help you back into bed, and then we'll see about bringing you up some breakfast."

"Don't treat me like I'm sick! I don't have a cold, or the flu, or a bad period! YOU DID THIS TO ME!"

"Yes," Hayden said, voice suddenly hard. "This is the one aspect of our relationship that is immutable, Dawn. You are here to power my machine, willingly or otherwise. I would prefer to be your friend, and to make your stay here a comfortable one, but if you make it necessary, I am quite willing to have you kept in a straitjacket and fed strained peas through a straw."

"Do whatever you want," Dawn said, eyes narrowing with rage. "It won't help you. Sooner or later, my sister is going to come for me. And then she's going to come for you."

"Your sister," Hayden replied, "is a very powerful girl, but she is no match for Nicole. Ms. D'Armand has already defeated Buffy once. If your sister dares challenge her again, I think the results are likely to be fatal. That is, if Buffy is able to find this place at all, which is quite improbable."

Dawn had no reply to that. She had seen the extent of Nicole's powers, and it didn't seem unreasonable that she might be able to take Buffy in a fight.

"Now then," Hayden said, lifting Dawn up from the floor and placing her back onto the bed, "get some rest. Mrs. Abbey will bring you some breakfast shortly. And please avoid wasting your energy on more emotional outbursts. We will be running the machine again tonight." With that, Hayden left, Mrs. Abbey following behind.

Gianni Cassio knocked gently on Dawn's door. "Dawn? Bella?" he called. There was no answer from inside. He was concerned enough that he used his code to unlock the door and open it.

Dawn was lying on the bed, staring out the window, with Diogenes in her lap. She didn't look at Cassio as he entered. The cryptologist could see tear tracks on her face.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing, bambina," he said. "Are you-"

"Get out." Dawn's voice was low, deadly.

Cassio was a bit taken aback. "Listen, Dawn-"

"I said get out." Dawn turned her face toward him. She was pale and fragile-looking and thoroughly furious. "I don't want to talk to any of you."

The young man swallowed, hurt and ashamed. "I didn't think it would be like that. You must believe me. I didn't know-"

"That they'd be using me?" Dawn demanded. "Sure, you didn't know that. You knew all along they'd be using me and my blood to power that-that thing! You're just upset because they're not making gold with it. Well, don't worry; I'm sure you'll be getting a lot of money when Osama bin Laden wants to build nuclear weapons!"

"I'm sorry," said Cassio, and he was. "I'm very sorry about all of this, Dawn."

Her eyes remained cold. "Glad to hear it. Now leave. Me. Alone." Cassio hesitated. "Leave me alone!"

Reluctantly, he retreated, drawing the door shut as he did. Outside, he paused, his brain working through the previous day piece by piece and coming to the firm conclusion that the whole thing smelled worse than Kogue's breath.

Cassio kept a very well-organized mind. It quickly weighed the options in front of him, as well as potential risks and rewards, and decided that it was time to cut loose before everything got completely out of hand. In fact, he decided that he needed to put an end to this whole thing before discount plutonium showed up on the overseas market. And what better way to guarantee that than by removing the Key to the whole operation?

Satisfied with his decision, Cassio tucked away all the information he had, resolved to keep an eye out for opportunities, and then occupied his brain with something else. In a moment, his resolution wasn't so much as a ripple on the surface of his mind.

It took nearly ten hours to track down Wally Deevers, the fake ID artist. The man no longer hung around his old haunts. Success had carried him out of South Central L.A. and into a nice little neighborhood where it was not automatically assumed that a relatively young black man with a Mercedes must be a criminal. In fact, he had established a reputation among the locals as a clever Internet entrepreneur.

This cover story was not terribly far from the truth. Deevers had realized years ago that, while making fake IDs was more both more profitable and more interesting than working at Burger King, it was really just the first stepping stone out of the ghetto. Where the money and the challenge really lay was in creating not merely IDs, but identities. To this end, Deevers had educated himself on a variety of topics - how birth certificates were completed in various states and time periods, the workings of the Social Security system, the appearance and contents of passports from many nations, how to perform a credit check, and, of course, how all manner of credentials could be created from scratch with the right software and a certain amount of Internet savvy.

Therefore, having worked so hard to shed every trace of his impoverished background, it was with a certain amount of surprise that Deevers (now going by Wallace Delacroix) answered the door to find an acquaintance from the old neighborhood standing on the front stoop of Deevers' townhouse apartment.

"S'up, Wally?" Gunn said with a big smile that did not give the slightest hint as to whether it was genuine or ironic. Even more inscrutable was the stony look on the face of Gunn's companion, a blonde girl whom Deevers did not know.

"Oh..." Deevers said, "uh, hey, Gunn. Been a long time."

Gunn looked past Deevers into his apartment. The Raiders game was playing on a large-screen television set.

Suddenly, the blonde woman stepped up to Deevers, grabbed him by the lapels of his partly-unbuttoned dress shirt, and pushed him backwards into his apartment. Gunn closed the door behind them.

"You sold a fake ID to the person who kidnapped my sister," the woman hissed as she shoved Deevers against a wall. "I want to know where I can find her."

Deevers grabbed the woman's wrists and tried to pull her hands off his collar. They wouldn't budge.

"She used the ID to buy a couple of bulletproof Cadillacs," Gunn elaborated as he watched Deevers struggle. He pulled a sheet of paper out of his jacket and held it up in front of Deevers' face. It was a color copy of a passport with a woman's face on it. Deevers' eyes widened.

"I-I don't know her," Deevers said.

Buffy lifted Deevers up off the ground by his throat. It was only a few inches, since Deevers was half a foot taller than Buffy, but it seemed to get the point across. "For someone who makes stuff up for a living," she growled, "you're a lousy liar."

"Okay!" Deevers rasped. Buffy put him down and reduced the pressure on his neck just enough that he could speak intelligibly. "She was French or something -- wanted the passport, a driver's license, a military ID, and enough fake background to pass a credit check."

"What was her name?" Buffy demanded.

"I didn't ask," Deevers replied desperately, "and she paid in cash."

"Oooh, wrong answer," Gunn said, shaking his head. As Buffy lifted Deevers back up off the ground, Gunn walked over and leaned against the wall where Deevers was pinned. "You don't want to be the weakest link here, man."

"I have her license plate number," Deevers croaked.

"Tell me," Buffy said.

"I'll show you," Deevers gasped. "Just put me down."

Buffy lowered the man to the floor but kept her grip on his throat. "Where?" she demanded.

"There," Deevers said, pointing to a far corner of the room. "In the desk. I took a Polaroid of the back of her car."

"Why?"

"If ever get busted, I can give the cops a bigger fish than me to fry."

Gunn walked over to the desk and opened a large drawer at the bottom. Inside were several hanging file folders, one containing several Polaroid photos, some of people, some of cars.

"Hers is the green Lotus," Deevers said.

"Hmm," said Gunn. "Girl's evil, but she's got taste. And cash."

"Then I guess we're done here," Buffy said. She tossed Deevers in a heap on the couch.

"See you, Wally," Gunn said as he headed for the door. Then he stopped and held up the copy of the ID Wally had made for the blonde woman. "You know, you may be all hip with the computers and everything, but you're still a lousy photographer. Everybody in your ID pictures looks dead. And I should know."

Chapter 10

Giovanni Cassio typed furiously. Music from a local alternative radio station was blasting on his headphones, occupying much of Gianni's conscious mind. That, he hoped, would be enough to keep Nicole out of his head, should her mental searchlight happen to sweep over him. Besides, he did his best work when he let his intuition guide his fingers.

It wasn't unusual for the young code-cracker to bang out 120 words a minute or more, but only while under the influence of a heavy dose of caffeine. Today, however, he was powered by nothing but his own anger, both at his employer and at himself.

He had to get Dawn out. Hayden had said the machine wouldn't harm her, but it was clear now that Hayden hadn't known or cared either way. Dawn had clearly been damaged in some way during the machine's first run - what if the second one killed her? Or the third? Or the hundredth? Even if she survived, what sort of existence was that, spending every day in bed, too feeble to stand, recovering her strength only to be drained again? Gianni remembered his aunt Luisa, who had struggled with cancer for years, enduring round after round of chemotherapy that sapped her strength until her eyes and mind were cloudy and dull. She had been almost glad to die.

No. This would not happen to Dawn. He would stop it, somehow.

And so Gianni sat in his office with the door locked and the lights low, banging away at the keyboard of his computer. There wasn't much time. The next run of the machine would take place in three hours. He had to rescue Dawn before then.

But in order to do that, he would first have to bring down the house's vast security network - the cameras, the motion detectors, the alarms, all of it. Only Hayden had the passcode to shut it down. That was why Gianni was racing to write a program that would uncover it.

If you had to mess with someone, Signore Hayden, Gianni thought, you should not have picked a cryptologist.

"Got her!" Cordelia cried as she ran out into the Hyperion's lobby. "Nicole D'Armand, resident alien."

"More alien than most," Buffy commented. She and most of the others were gathered there, waiting to see if Buffy and Gunn had finally found a clue that led somewhere other than another dead end.

"I've got her address," Cordelia continued. "And, even better, I know who she's shacked up with."

"What are you talking about?" Wesley asked.

"MapQuest.com has this feature where you can see an aerial photo of whatever address you just looked up. See this big, oval swimming pool in the back of the house?" she said, holding up a printout of the picture. "I've seen it in PEOPLE. That's Lucas Hayden's house."

Everyone looked blankly at Cordelia. She rolled her eyes.

"He's only one of the most eligible bachelors in L.A.," she explained. "Huge international industrialist. Plus, pretty easy on the eyes for a forty-something." Giles gave her the subtlest glance of annoyance.

"That makes sense," Willow said. "Whoever took Dawn obviously has a lot of money to hire hit men and, um, hit monsters."

"And a sorcerer clever enough to turn Angel and Spike back into their former selves," Wesley added.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Buffy said. "Let's go get him."

"Ah, one moment," Giles said. "There is still the question of the Sch'sek demon and the mind-reader, plus whatever other surprises this Hayden fellow may have on hand. I'm not entirely certain we are a match for them without..." He glanced towards Liam and William, who had been sitting quietly and watching the others up until then. Liam looked at Buffy.

"You say these people took your younger sister?" he asked.

"Yes," Buffy said.

"Then I'll help you." Liam walked over to the weapons cabinet and pulled out a Danish axe.

"How?" Buffy asked. "Do you even know how to use that thing?"

"I probably do," Liam replied. "Besides, I'm strong as an ox. You can't afford NOT to let me come."

"He does have a point," Wesley said. "We'll need every able hand."

"Even if the mind ain't so hot," Xander muttered.

"I heard that," Liam said sharply. "William, what about you?"

"I should be most happy to help save the girl, but it's clear that I'm useless in a fight," William replied, hanging his head. "I would only get in the way."

"That's not true," Anya said. "You're a great fighter. I mean, you've killed lots and lots of people, including two Slayers like Buffy."

William looked at her with a mix of incredulity and horror.

"Ignore her," Cordelia said rapidly. "She has a, a brain disease."

Anya's mouth hung open in indignation. "I do NOT have-"

"An, honey," Xander cut in desperately, "please please please let's talk about this later, OK?"

Anya fumed but said nothing further.

"We could really use you, William," Buffy said.

"We?" William asked, looking around at the women in the room. "Surely you ladies will remain here?"

Tara suddenly perked up. "Oh, no, William," she said. "We'll all be putting ourselves in mortal danger. It will be hard, with so few men to help us, but...I'm sure at least some of us will survive."

William leaped to his feet. "You shall not go into the breach, dear lady," he cried. "I will go in your place. And if you will not be dissuaded, then I shall come and be your protector."

Looking at William, Tara tilted her head and sighed appreciatively.

"I am suddenly inspired!" William cried. "I shall return shortly." He yanked his pad and paper from his pocket and ran upstairs.

When he was gone, Willow took hold of Tara's face and gave her a big kiss on the forehead, then looked at the others. "I love this girl's brain," she explained.

"All right," Buffy said loudly. "Everybody arm up. We're leaving in five."

Giovanni Cassio checked his watch. It was 8:46 and 20 seconds. Good. He had just over a minute and a half.

He didn't pack his things - he couldn't afford to give any clue that he was planning to leave. He just grabbed his wallet, his passport, and his lucky pen (deemed lucky simply because he had hung on it for two whole months without losing it) and stuffed them in his pants pockets.

8:47:00. He closed the door to his room, put on his jacket, and checked the pockets. They contained the keys to his rental car, a small spray bottle, and the address and phone number of the FBI's Los Angeles field office. Federal agents, Gianni reasoned, would be more likely than local police to take him seriously when he handed them a kidnap victim and information about someone manufacturing weapons-grade plutonium.

8:47:30. He started down the hallway towards Dawn's room, trying to look casual. The next run of the alchemy machine was due to begin at nine; Gianni knew he was only a couple of minutes ahead of Nicole D'Armand, who would be on her way to pick up Dawn very shortly. But the plan was more likely to succeed if he cut it close.

8:48:00. At this moment, the program Gianni had written on his office computer was automatically shutting down the entire house security network. The alarm on Dawn's door, as well as every other alarm and sensor in the mansion, would be disabled, and every digital camera would show a continuous loop of whatever it had recorded in the previous five minutes.

Gianni walked up to the door of Dawn's room and addressed the vampire standing guard outside. "I'm here to take the girl downstairs," the young man said, trying to sound confident.

The vampire eyed the cryptologist with suspicion. "Isn't D'Armand supposed to pick her up?"

"Change of plans," Gianni replied. "Mr. Hayden sent her on an errand."

This was the moment of truth. Gianni watched the vampire carefully for his reaction.

"I'd better call downstairs to confirm," the vampire said.

Gianni cursed inwardly, but maintained outward calm. "Go ahead," he said casually.

When the vampire reached for the radio on his belt, Gianni grabbed the small spray bottle out of his jacket and squirted the monster in the face. The vampire screamed and clutched at its eyes. Gianni had gone to the kitchen a few hours earlier, feigning hunger, and surreptitiously squeezed the juice out of several garlic cloves.

The vampire pressed the panic button on its radio, which was wired to set off the house alarms, but to no effect. However, Gianni knew the creature's yells of pain were likely to attract attention at any moment.

He punched in the key code for Dawn's door and rushed into her room. The girl had regained enough strength to dress herself, but she still lay limply on her bed as she watched the young cryptologist rush in. Her eyebrows rose with alarm.

"I'm taking you out of this place," Gianni hissed. "But we must go right now."

Dawn ran clumsily to Gianni. "Fine! Let's go!" she hissed back.

The young man held Dawn's arm as they quickly descended the front stairs. Gianni had parked his car right outside. Once they got there, they could-

Gianni let out a grunt as a white-sleeved arm swung up and slammed into his chest, clotheslining the young man just as he reached the bottom of the stairs. His feet went out from under him and he landed painfully on the wooden staircase. Dawn's arm was yanked from his grasp.

"I can't say I'm surprised, Cassio," Nicole D'Armand said. "Strange little minds like yours are capable of anything, including betrayal. And, fortunately, idiocy."

Willow tapped away at her laptop, frequently hitting the backspace key to correct typos caused by the bouncing of the car. She was also squeezed in between Tara and Anya, leaving very little elbow room. As if her task wasn't difficult enough.

"Anything yet?" Buffy called from the front passenger's seat.

"I think I've found Hayden's home server," Willow said distractedly as she stared at the screen. "But I don't know how long it will take to hack into his security sys-... Wait a minute. That's weird."

"What?" Buffy asked.

"It's looks like the security network is already down. All of it."

Buffy scowled. "Why would they do that?"

"Maybe it's a trap," Anya suggested.

"Do you think that fake ID guy could have warned them?" Tara asked.

"And let them know that he gave them up?" Buffy said. "I doubt it."

"Maybe the system's down for maintenance or something," Xander said.

"Maybe," Buffy said, with a distant, worried look on her face. "Okay, we'll stick to the plan, but be extra careful. Our gift horse might be loaded with Greeks."

"Everybody still with us?" Cordelia asked as she steered Angel's convertible around a corner.

Giles, who was sitting next to her, craned his neck to look backwards, past the heads of Liam and William. "Xander is right behind us," he replied. "And Gunn's truck is a few cars back."

"I'm gonna slow down," Cordelia said. "We need Gunn in front in case he has to crash the gate." She moved one lane to the right, and Xander did likewise. Gunn pulled by both cars and let them fall in behind. Giles could see Fred and Wesley seated next to Gunn.

"OK," Cordelia said, glancing at the two vampires in the back seat, "does everyone have weapons?" She patted her own armament, a t'ai chi sword that lay sheathed next to the gearshift.

Liam grunted and held up his battle axe. William nervously squeaked, "Yes," and raised the hilt of his borrowed saber, which he earlier had declared more gentlemanly than an axe.

Giles pulled his crossbow into his lap and began checking it over for perhaps the third time since he'd taken it from Angel Investigations' weapons cabinet. "I must say, Cordelia," he said, looking down at the weapon, "you've changed quite a lot since you left Sunnydale."

"Oh, the short hair is just an experiment," Cordelia said. "I haven't committed to it or anything."

"I meant," Giles said patiently, "that you've grown up."

"Oh," Cordelia said, slightly embarrassed.

"I suppose responsibility tends to have that effect on people," Giles replied.

"It's just...they need me, you know?" Cordelia said suddenly. "Back in Sunnydale, you guys let me help sometimes, but you never needed me. You always had somebody stronger, or smarter, or, well, nicer to fall back on. But Angel actually needs me - my visions, my support, and God knows, my wardrobe advice."

Giles chuckled.

Cordelia glanced up at a street sign. "We're almost there." Giles looked down and checked his crossbow over yet again.

"You're not nervous, are you?" Cordelia said. "I've gathered that this isn't your first time rescuing Dawn."

"No," Giles said. "No, it's not."

I just hope no one dies this time, he thought.

Lucas Hayden's front gate was almost everything Gunn had expected it to be - ornate yet solid-looking, stretched across the driveway at the bottom of the hill on which Hayden's mansion stood, and watched over by a blue-suited security guard. The only thing Gunn didn't expect the gate to be was wide open, as it was now.

The guard was fiddling with the inside of a box attached to the gate, seemingly trying to figure out what might be wrong with it. When Gunn's pickup approached, however, the guard ran in front of the truck and forced Gunn to stop. He had one hand inside his jacket as he walked up to the driver's side window.

"We're not taking any visitors right now," he said.

"That's okay," Gunn said with his friendliest smile. "We're not visiting."

The three people in the cab of the pickup truck moved nearly as one. As Gunn unlatched his door, Wesley opened the passenger's side door and began to get out, Fred sliding over into Wesley's place. This left Gunn enough room to lean to his left and ram both feet into the driver's side door.

The door struck the guard in the torso and crushed his arm against his body. He grunted and fell back, dropping the gun he had been holding under his jacket.

The guard regained his balance and made a rush for the gun. However, as he leaned down to get it, Wesley kicked him in the face. The guard's head snapped up, and then his entire body slumped to the ground.

"No, not a visit," Wesley said to the unconscious guard. "More of an invasion, really."

He jumped back into the cab and they sped up the hill towards the mansion.

The three vehicles screeched to a halt under the archway at the mansion's front door. Everyone piled out as fast as possible.

Buffy pointed at Willow, Tara, and Xander. "Let's go," she said. The four of them ran around the side of the house and out of sight.

Everyone else gathered around Wesley as he tried the front door. He held a shotgun in his left hand.

"It's locked," Wesley said. "Stand back."

The circle of people around Wesley widened. He leveled the shotgun at the doorknob and fired. Now there was a hole in the oak where the doorknob had been.

Wesley backed off and let the others force the door open. He didn't want to take the shotgun inside; a direct hit from the gun would only slow a vampire down, but a few stray pellets could kill Dawn, or an innocent housekeeper, or any other human who got in the way. He shoved the gun under the seat of the pickup truck and grabbed up his battle axe instead.

Gunn kicked open the door. With one arm in a cast, he couldn't wield a two-handed weapon very well, so he had chosen a large shield to hang off the injured arm while brandishing a German knightly sword with the good one. Fred had called him "Sir Charles" the whole ride over. Gunn would have thought that was cute, if he hadn't been busy worrying about the fact that he was going into a nest of vampires, demons, and who-knew-what-else with a bunch of strangers and with Angel having the world's longest flashback.

Gunn took a cautious step through the front door, looked around, and gulped. There were six vampires in the foyer, all looking hungrily at him. "I see dead people," Gunn said numbly.

Like voracious wolves, the vampires charged.

A high fence, made of wrought iron and topped with spikes, separated the front yard from the back, preventing anyone from getting to the back yard by any route other than through the house. Willow looked dubiously up at the spikes.

"Well," she said, "I might know a levitation spell..."

Buffy put her hands on two adjacent bars of the fence. With a loud grunt, she pulled them apart. "No need," she breathed.

One by one, they squeezed through gap in the bars. Xander came through last and only barely made it. "I'm suddenly glad I didn't have that second Twinkie this afternoon," he said as he pulled something through the bars after him -- a long, thin object wrapped in oilcloth. Gunn had loaned it to Xander, saying it was something from Angel Investigations' special weapons stash, but which Gunn himself hadn't had a chance to try yet.

They rounded the corner of the house and found themselves by Hayden's large, oval swimming pool. The whole area around the pool was done in midnight blue tile, with a few tiles painted with golden sun-faces.

"Wow," Willow said. "Imagine what this must look like from upstairs."

Xander looked down. "Hand-painted Mexican tile," he said. "Probably a custom job. Very classy."

"Guys," Buffy said, "can we can talk about exterior design after we find my sister? And that creep Hayden?"

"Um," Tara said, "I think something's found us." She was pointing to the other end of the house's rear faade.

Five Doberman pinschers trotted around the corner. Upon seeing the intruders, the dogs broke into a run, barking like mad.

Buffy was flummoxed. She'd never been attacked by an animal before. The dogs would rip her to pieces if she did nothing, but she couldn't just kill them. Awkwardly, she dropped the stake she had reflexively pulled and put up her fists, waiting for the attack. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Xander fumbling with his wrapped package, and Willow was holding up her hands and seemingly trying to think of an appropriate spell.

"Tranquilate!" Tara called, tossing some kind of powder in the general direction of the dogs. All at once, they stopped running, lowered their heads, and trotted up to Tara. One dog whimpered, and another licked her hand.

"Would you look at that," Xander said, staring in half-amazement. "Tara's the Beastmaster."

"It's a taming spell," Tara said, getting down on her knees and patting each of the dogs on the head. "It works on humans, too, but it's better for animals. I do need to stay with them for a while, though, to be sure they don't get aggressive again. You know, make friends," she explained as she scratched one of the dogs behind the ears.

"Okay," Buffy said. "We can handle the break-in. Xander, get where you need to be."

Xander glanced around for a moment. "I'm on it," he said. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled to a spot just below the stone steps that led up from the pool area to the house. No one on the first floor of the house would be able to see him there.

"Let's go," Buffy said to Willow.

Buffy walked up to one of the French doors on the back of the house and kicked the frame, just below the doorknob. The door burst inward, every pane of glass shattering explosively.

"I thought we were trying to be sneaky," Willow said.

"I'm pretty sure the mutt patrol ruined that. And if they didn't, those guys will," she said, pointing at the entranceway to the huge sunroom they now stood in. Into the room strode two vampires and the big, cable-swinging demon they had encountered at the Dj Vu.

"Oh," Willow said, eyebrows raised.

Anya was very upset. Her wedding was only months away, and yet, instead of looking for the perfect dress and choosing a china pattern, here she was, flat on her back in some stranger's driveway with a vampire's hands around her throat.

She had tried to shoot the monster in question through the heart with her crossbow, but had only managed to hit him in the crotch. He seemed to be taking it personally; he had tackled her before she could reload, and now she could only yank desperately at the creature's hands and watch her friends' feet go this way and that as their owners struggled desperately with their own opponents.

The vampire who was strangling Anya suddenly screamed. Cordelia, the tall, pretty girl who had once taught Xander basic kissing and groping skills, was standing over her. The point of her sword was lodged somewhere between the vampire's shoulders. Lodged quite deeply, in fact, because she seemed to be having trouble removing the blade from her enemy's body. The vampire screamed again as Cordelia worked the weapon back and forth, trying to get it loose.

Anya took the opportunity to roll the vampire halfway off her, crawl out from beneath him, and pull a spare crossbow bolt from her back pocket. The bolt was cracked from having both Anya's and the vampire's weight on it, but Anya didn't intend to fire it. Instead, she jammed it into the vampire's back, over its heart.

The bolt snapped in half before the point reached the monster's heart. Now the vampire had two weapons lodged in its back, and it was clearly not happy. It flipped over and backhanded Anya, sending her sprawling back behind Cordelia.

As she dimly glimpsed Cordelia and the vampire wrestling for control of Cordelia's sword - her from the hilt, him from the business end - Anya thought that this was going to be a very long fight.

The Sch'sek demon didn't waste any time. Seeing Buffy enter the sunroom, it immediately lashed one of its cable-whips downward at her. Buffy dodged aside, and the whip splintered an end table instead of the Slayer's skull.

The two vampires went after Willow. Before either one could take a swing at her, however, Willow cried, "Seize!" The closest vampire suddenly went rigid - its arms against its sides and its legs locked together - and fell face-first onto the floor.

The second vamp stumbled over its fallen comrade, but still managed to get its hands on Willow and drag her onto the Persian rug. The vampire scrambled on top of Willow and held her down, the look in its eyes all too familiar - that moment before the bite, when the vampire is consumed by its hunger for the kill. Hunger for her blood.

The monster lowered its face to bite, but Willow got her hand under the vampire's chin and pushed with all her strength. Slowly, she forced the creature's head upwards and back, making it lift its torso partway up off her to relieve the pressure on its neck. Willow gritted her teeth and kept pushing, even though she knew she was only buying herself a few seconds before the vampire knocked her hand away and finished her off.

There was a sudden explosion outside, over which Willow could hear glass breaking. Suddenly, the vampire had something wooden and pointy protruding from the side of its chest, having passed most of the way through the torso. The vampire barely had time to say, "What the hell?" before crumbling into dust.

Xander shook his head rapidly to clear it and picked himself up off the blue tile of the pool deck. Gunn's rifle-sized prototype harpoon gun allowed for good accuracy and excellent penetration, but it had a hell of a kick. Xander counted himself lucky that it hadn't launched him straight into the swimming pool.

Plus, there was the reloading issue. Xander mentally went over the steps even as he began them - rip open a paper packet of black powder and pour it into the muzzle, shove a wad of cotton in front of it, then jam another extra-long stake into the barrel. Maybe a Revolution-era minuteman could have done it in fifteen seconds, but Xander knew he would need forty-five at least.

War was hell.

Buffy dodged again as Kogue whipped one of his steel cables at her head. It missed narrowly and took out an expensive-looking lamp instead.

Giles had told Buffy that only sharp weapons could kill a Sch'sek, so Buffy reached behind her and drew the dagger she had brought for that purpose. The problem, though, was getting close enough to use it. As Buffy leaped up to avoid Kogue's other cable-whip, this one aimed at her legs, she couldn't quite see how she was going to accomplish that.

Suddenly, Willow shouted, "Bind!" Like snakes turning on their master, Kogue's cable-whips suddenly wrapped themselves around his body, pinning his arms. The demon roared with outrage.

"Nice, Will!" Buffy shouted. She ran at Kogue and thrust her dagger at his chest. Kogue twisted sideways, and the narrow blade buried itself in his upper arm instead. The demon grunted with pain.

Suddenly, a familiar blonde woman in a white suit passed by the entranceway that led from the sunroom to the back hallway. She was dragging Dawn along by her forearm.

The girl saw Willow first. "Willow!" she screamed. Then she saw her sister. "Buffy!"

For that single second, Willow's concentration lapsed. The spell that had bound Kogue up in his own cables relaxed, and the large demon backhanded Buffy halfway across the room. Kogue then turned and whipped a cable up, around, and down into the side of Willow's head. The witch fell to the ground, unconscious, with blood trickling from her scalp.

Dawn screamed louder and tried to wrest her arm from Nicole's grip. The older woman smashed the blade of her hand against the back of Dawn's neck, stunning the girl into submission. While Buffy clumsily got to her feet, Nicole dragged Dawn out of sight.

Buffy was desperately torn. She had to go after Dawn, but she couldn't just leave Willow here to be beaten to a pulp by a huge demon.

Then came a crashing sound as Xander barreled through the remains of the ruined French doors. Pointing his harpoon gun at Kogue, he shouted, "Smile, you son of a b-OOF!"

The vampire Willow had paralyzed was mobile again and had thrown itself at Xander. Xander went down as the gun discharged upwards, driving a harpoon straight into the twelve-foot-high ceiling.

Fortunately, the weapon's massive kick had spun Xander and the vampire around somewhat as they fell to the floor, so that the vampire landed next to Xander instead of on top of him. Xander drove the butt of the harpoon gun into the side of the vampire's head and knocked the creature out cold.

Xander looked at the situation in the room. Kogue was in front of him, advancing on Buffy, who was standing but looked somewhat woozy. Kogue's cables were only partly extended and wrapped around his fists like brass knuckles.

Without thinking, Xander leaped up, grabbed his harpoon gun by the barrel, and ran up behind Kogue, swinging the gun like a club. There was a heavy thud as the butt hit Kogue in the back of the head.

The demon, completely unfazed, turned around and smiled toothily at Xander.

"Come on, Big Ugly!" Xander shouted. "You want a piece of me? 'Cause I got one thing to say to you, and it's...bye."

Xander tried to run around Kogue, hoping to get to the front of the house and get some of the others to come help, but he wasn't quite fast enough. While Kogue's fist only clipped Xander's temple, that was enough to send him sprawling, barely conscious, on the hardwood floor.

Kogue turned his attention back to Buffy, who had no allies left in the room. He growled and extended his cable-whips fully.

"The goats," he said in an inhuman bass, "taste good when they're scared."

For once, Buffy couldn't think of a single witty reply.

Cordelia looked around for the briefest of moments to assess the situation. On the plus side, two of the six vampires that had come at them from the foyer were now dust - Giles had bullseyed the one with his crossbow, and Cordelia had just finished off the other by decapitating it with her razor-sharp Chinese sword. On the minus side, Fred was unconscious behind one of the cars; Anya was sitting next to Fred, awake but looking at her fingers as though unsure of how many she was holding up; and Giles had been blindsided hard enough to knock the wind out of him and maybe fracture a rib or two. Fortunately, Gunn had stepped in and forced Giles' undead attacker to back off before it killed the Watcher.

Now Gunn was fighting desperately with that same vampire, which was trying to wrestle Gunn's sword away from him. With Gunn's other arm broken, it didn't look like it would take the vampire long to succeed. Cordelia ran up behind Gunn's attacker, but given how close Gunn and his opponent were to each other, Cordelia didn't dare attempt another decapitation. Two heads on the ground would definitely not be better than one. So she did the first thing she could think of - she stabbed the vampire in the butt.

"OW!" the vampire screamed. He turned around to face Cordelia. "You stabbed me in the ass! Fight to the death or not, that's just dirty pool."

"Then this is really gonna upset you," Gunn said, whipping his sword around and beheading the vampire from behind. The vampire's head and body fell to the ground and collapsed into dust.

Gunn glanced up at Cordelia and grinned. "Thanks," he said. "For the help, and the laugh."

"No problem," Cordelia replied, and they went to help the others.

Buffy's back was literally against the wall as she rolled right and narrowly avoided a downward strike from one of Kogue's cable-whips. Bits of splintered paneling flew as the cable took out a vertical strip of wall.

The situation was growing desperate. The demon's long reach and extraordinary personal weaponry enabled him to attack almost continuously while preventing Buffy from moving in on him. She could hold him off for a while longer, perhaps, but every moment that passed allowed her enemies that much more time to remove Dawn from the premises, maybe to a place where Buffy wouldn't be able to find her.

It was time for desperate action. Buffy reversed her dagger in her hand and threw it at Kogue's head. The demon raised his arm and got the dagger through the wrist instead. It roared with pain.

Buffy charged and leaped up to kick Kogue in the chest. The blow wouldn't hurt him, she knew, but if it knocked him down, she might be able to pull her dagger out of his arm and stab him somewhere more vital.

With his uninjured arm, Kogue knocked Buffy's kicking leg aside, sending her into a wild aerial spin. She landed flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her. Dimly, Buffy saw Kogue raise up his foot for a fatal stomp.

Then a figure in a long skirt stepped into the outer doorway, pointed at Kogue, and yelled, "Attack!"

The pack of Dobermans charged around Tara's legs and threw themselves at Kogue. Ignoring Buffy completely, all five dogs latched onto Kogue's legs and began ripping at his flesh, shaking their heads wildly as they tried to remove meat from bone. Kogue roared madly and tried to shake the dogs off, but even his most violent movements could only dislodge them for a moment - the moment he freed one leg, the dogs would worry all the harder at the other one.

Finally, Buffy got to her feet and punched Kogue in the face hard enough to knock him down. The dogs surrounded him and continued their assault. Kogue began screaming.

Buffy ran up and raised her dagger to finish Kogue off, but the demon was now completely covered in snarling canine. When the Slayer tried to push one of the dogs aside, it turned and snapped at her hand - which Buffy quickly withdrew - before resuming its attack on Kogue.

"Don't!" Tara cried. "They just know they're supposed to attack. They don't know you aren't the enemy."

"Okay, okay," Buffy said, looking desperately at Tara. "But I have to find Dawn."

"Go, I've got it," Tara replied.

Buffy ran off in the direction Dawn and Nicole had gone, and hoped for a miracle.

William cut at his attacker with his saber while simultaneously backing away from him. This had been William's strategy for the entire fight, keeping well away from his vicious, but unarmed, opponents and trying to strike from a distance. The only problem was that it wasn't really getting him anywhere. He stayed too far away to do any real damage, inflicting only shallow cuts on his vampiric foes. But he was afraid to get closer.

How they all would laugh, he thought, if they could see me now.

Reading war stories in his youth, he had always imagined himself in the role of the dashing young hero, always heading once more into the breach, but now...fighting these THINGS, with their yellow eyes and sharp fangs...it was terrifying. The best William could do was to keep this one busy, hoping it didn't kill him before someone came to his aid.

And then, sure enough, someone did come to his aid. His countryman, Wesley, ran up behind William's foe with a battle axe and planted the blade deep in the vampire's shoulder, nearly severing its arm in the process. Then, with his other hand, Wesley produced a stake and ran the creature through with it. The creature turned instantly to dust.

"That's the last one," Wesley said. William looked around; indeed, there were no remaining vampires.

Besides myself and Liam, he reminded himself.

"We need to find Dawn," Giles said, wheezing a bit.

"Right," Wesley agreed. "Gunn, get all the injured into your truck and take them to the hospital. The rest of us-" he indicated himself, Giles, Cordelia, Liam, and William "-will search for Buffy's sister."

Gunn looked as though he had been about to protest this plan but had thought better of it, perhaps remembering his near disarmament and murder earlier. As Wesley and the others went inside, Gunn began helping his injured companions into his truck.

Buffy wasn't sure what do to. The back hallway down which Nicole had taken Dawn led to the kitchen, which had doors to the back yard and the dining room. However, neither one of those escape routes seemed like particularly good ones to Buffy - the back yard was completely enclosed by a high fence, and the dining room would lead only to the front hall, where the rest of Buffy's companions would be. Nicole could never get Dawn past them without being spotted.

The Slayer began throwing open doors, searching for some other way they could have gone. She found a pantry in the kitchen and a broom closet in the hall, but the third door she tried was locked. That seemed promising.

Buffy put her back against the hallway wall opposite the door and gave a mighty kick. The door burst open to reveal a long flight of concrete stairs. Dagger in hand, she ran downwards.

Tara's eyes were fixed on Kogue, watching the dogs worry and tear at him. Then she saw Kogue's arm go up and around one of the dogs. The dog yelped loudly for a moment, and then there was a sickening crunching sound. Kogue had crushed the poor animal to death.

One by one, Kogue seized each dog and killed it with his bare hands. Tara was so horrified by the sight that she was still standing there, staring, when Kogue killed the last dog and got up off the floor. He was bleeding

in several places, but the murderous look in the demon's eyes was as steady as could be. Kogue started towards Tara.

"Pugnus aeris!" Tara cried. Kogue's head snapped upwards and he staggered a few steps back, as though he had been punched in the face by someone his own size.

Unfortunately, the magical punch had no more effect on the Sch'sek than a real one. He recovered quickly and charged at Tara. She screamed and tried to run, but one of Kogue's cables wrapped around her ankle and yanked her leg out from under her. Tara landed face-down on the floor. Before she could get up, Kogue was on top of her, wrapping one of his cables around her neck and pulling it tight.

Buffy reached the bottom of the stairs and found herself in some sort of control room. To her left, beyond a long console, there was a large window that looked in on another room containing two big, metal boxes. An unkempt young man in a T-shirt was pounding on the window and yelling.

"Hey! Let me out!"

Buffy considered for half a second, then unlocked the door and let the young man out. He seemed quite distraught.

"You are here for Dawn, yes?" he said in some sort of accent.

"Do you know where she is?" Buffy replied.

"That way," the man replied, pointing down a corridor. "That passage connects to the garage. We have to hurry. The device," he pointed at the lead-coated boxes behind him, "is for making plutonium. Hayden has some with him."

Buffy's eyebrows raised, and then they took off down the hall. "Not to be rude, but who the hell are you?" Buffy asked as they hurried along.

"Long story," the young man puffed. "I'm just someone else Hayden has been using."

They were approaching the end of the hall. It ended at a metal door.

Buffy accelerated and hit the door at full speed with a flying kick. The door burst open and Buffy landed in a three-car garage. Two cars were parked in it - the green Lotus from the Polaroid at Deevers' place, and a black Jaguar. At present, the tall blonde, Nicole, was dumping a limp, handcuffed Dawn into the passenger's seat of the Lotus. Hayden, whom Buffy recognized from a picture in one of Cordelia's magazines, was standing next to the Jag with a metal briefcase. He had apparently been saying something to Nicole when Buffy burst in.

"The Slayer, I presume?" Hayden said, looking at Buffy as if there were nothing unusual about a five-foot-nothing girl smashing open his garage door with the force of a stick of dynamite. "I can't tell you how much I regret not being able to stay and see you perform. Unfortunately, I need to meet with some clients who are interested in my new product. Nicole, if you would kindly take care of the young lady, I will meet you at the rendezvous point."

"Gladly, Mr. Hayden," Nicole said. She flipped open her knife.

"Bastardo," Cassio spat at Hayden and pointed at his metallic briefcase. "You are not leaving here with that."

There was a rack of tools hanging on the rear wall of the garage, near

the door to the basement. Cassio snatched a large wrench off of it and ran at Hayden with a yell.

Hayden was more agile than he looked. He ducked Cassio's first swing, then blocked the second with the briefcase. Before Cassio could bring his impromptu weapon to bear again, Hayden ran in and punched the young Italian in the stomach, then grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the wrench.

Buffy tried to move in and intervene, but Nicole stepped in front of her and blocked her path. Nicole moved slowly towards Buffy, glancing down at the Slayer's dagger.

"Tres amusant. Have you ever been in a knife fight before?" she asked tauntingly.

"Haven't lost one yet," Buffy replied, eyeing Nicole warily.

"Then I hope you are open to new experiences," Nicole said.

Cassio tried to knee Hayden in the groin but missed and hit his thigh instead; Hayden's leg went temporarily dead and he staggered back. Cassio tried one more swing with the wrench, but Hayden blocked again with the briefcase, then ran forward and smashed Cassio in the face with it. The young man went down.

"Well then," Hayden said, straightening his jacket, "I'll be off. Enjoy." He climbed into the Jaguar and sped away.

William was checking out the foyer very cautiously when he heard the scream. It was definitely a woman's.

He dashed down a hallway towards the back of the house, holding his sword in front of him as if the end of it were on fire. He was terrified of what he might find when he reached the source of the scream, but he was not about to allow some beast or ruffian to manhandle any of the ladies in his party without at least having to knock him out of the way first.

William skidded to a halt just inside the doorway of a large, drafty room. In the middle of the room, a huge, horrific creature was kneeling over a woman and choking her with a rope of some kind.

"Unhand her at once!" William cried, trying to sound more courageous than he felt, "or I shall cut you to pieces and feed you to the...dogs...." William's voice faltered as he saw the heap of dead guard dogs on the floor behind the demon.

The creature released the woman and rose to its feet. "You," it said in an impossibly deep voice. "This time, I will kill you."

William wasn't sure what to make of that remark - could he have met this monstrous thing before? If so, he was rather astounded that he had survived.

The woman at the demon's feet was barely conscious but alive. She turned her head feebly, and now William could see her face. Tara.

A strange feeling came over William, one he didn't think he had ever felt before. Something inside him began screaming for blood, screaming to be allowed to break bones, to tear flesh, to kill. Screaming to be released.

William released it.

"HAAAAAGH!" he cried as he ran headlong at the demon. The creature was so taken aback by William's sudden, senseless charge that it froze for a moment, forgetting to bring its cable-whips to bear until William was already well inside their range. William slashed wildly with his saber and cut Kogue across the chest. Dark blue-green blood spattered across the wood floor as the demon howled with pain and outrage.

William slashed again; the success of his first attack only seemed to heighten his blood lust. This time, Kogue caught the sword blade in his cable-wrapped palm and wrenched the weapon out of William's hand. The demon shoved William backwards so hard that he fell to the floor. While William got up, Kogue broke the saber in half over its knee and threw the pieces aside. Then the demon advanced.

But William was past caring about his weapon. He would kill the monster with his teeth if he had to. He leaped straight at Kogue; the demon deflected him and sent him crashing into a wall, making a huge dent in the plaster. Kogue extended his whips and went in for the kill.

"Hey! Beastie!"

Kogue turned. William looked past Kogue's legs to see Liam in the doorway, battle axe in hand.

"Are yeh feeling homesick for the Hell that spawned ye?" Liam said. "'Cause I'm here to send you back."

Seemingly perturbed by Liam's insolence, Kogue ignored William, who was moaning slightly from his prone position on the floor, and began to move towards the Irishman. He slowly circled one of his cable-whips as he advanced. Liam stepped into the room and moved laterally, looking for the best angle of attack.

Kogue let fly with a cable-whip at Liam's legs. Liam leaped up and forward in an eight-foot-high arc and swung his axe; the demon barely managed to knock the blow aside before Liam followed up with a kick to the face. Kogue staggered back, but Liam kept after him, swinging the axe again and again to keep Kogue in retreat. Finally, right after one particularly mighty swing of Liam's axe, Kogue seized the initiative and leaped forward, tackling Liam to the ground. The demon grabbed Liam by the hair and slammed the Irishman's head into the wooden floor. Liam went limp.

The huge demon got to his feet. He was now standing next to Tara, who was still on the floor, trying to crawl away. Kogue lifted her up by her shoulders until she was eye to eye with him.

"Now die, little dog-herder," he boomed, closing his hands around Tara's throat.

With a shriek, a vamp-faced William flew at Kogue from behind. Kogue cried out as William stabbed the broken end of his saber deep into the demon's kidney.

Kogue whipped around and dealt William a backhand blow across the face, but William barely seemed to notice. He stabbed Kogue in the chest, then in the shoulder, then cut a great gash across the demon's abdomen. Kogue fell, and William fell on him, stabbing again and again.

Finally, long after Kogue had stopped moving, Tara dragged herself over to William and caught his arm. "It's okay," she said. "He's dead. It's over."

William regarded at Tara with his yellow eyes, his expression one of animal-like puzzlement. He growled.

Tara screamed as William threw himself onto her and tried to sink his fangs into her neck. William screamed in turn and rolled off of Tara, gripping his head in agony.

The witch lay on the floor for several seconds, breathing hard and looking at William with horror. Then she began to crawl towards the still-unconscious Willow, leaving William alone in the middle of the room.

Buffy gazed at Nicole with unmitigated anger. Their fight so far had given Buffy a light cut on her hand and a somewhat deeper one on her upper arm, while Nicole had yet to be injured at all. The Slayer was frustrated as hell. Her opponent, on the other hand, never lost the slight smile on her lips as they circled each other.

"It is only a matter of time before I finish you," Nicole said. "But I wouldn't worry. After a few more sessions in the transmutation chamber, I don't think your sister will have the energy to miss you."

Buffy saw an opening, a chance to cut at Nicole's forearm, and went for it. But it was a ruse; Nicole pulled the arm back just as Buffy extended her own, and countercut to the wrist of Buffy's dagger arm. Buffy yelped and dropped her weapon.

Backing off rapidly, the Slayer took a fraction of a second to glance at the cut on her wrist. Had Nicole managed to cut any deeper, Buffy might now be bleeding to death.

Nicole shifted her knife to a point-down position, holding it the way Buffy would hold a stake. It was obvious that Nicole intended her next attack to be a fatal one.

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, Nicole turned around.

Buffy didn't wait to find out why. She slammed her foot into Nicole's lower back and sent the woman sprawling over the hood of her Lotus. Buffy ran at her and tried to punch her in the face, but Nicole rolled away just in time; the Slayer's fist impacted painfully on the hood of the car. Nicole ran out the garage door and turned right, hurrying out of view.

Buffy opened the car door and pulled her handcuffed sister out. "Dawn," Buffy said. "Are you-"

"Are you both all right?" a familiar English voice said from behind. Buffy looked around and saw Wesley approaching.

"I'm okay," Dawn said.

"Me, too," Buffy added. "What just happened?"

"I distracted her for a moment by visualizing myself attacking her from behind as vividly as I could. It was enough to fool her, if only for a moment."

Buffy looked out the garage door. "I have find her," she said. "She knows where Hayden is going."

"Don't think about what you're doing when you fight her, Buffy," Wesley said gravely. "Let your mind wander, and let your body do the fighting. It's the only way to win."

"I'll try anything once," Buffy said, and ran off after Nicole.

Ethan Rayne peered out the window of his room, which overlooked the front of the house. The pickup truck had driven off, but a black sedan had pulled into the driveway a couple of minutes later. Two dark-suited men had gotten out of the sedan and gone into the house, which they were, presumably, searching. That was probably not a good thing.

He glanced around the room for some means of escape. Noticing the bed, he yanked the cover off, then pulled off the top and bottom sheets and began knotting them together. His car was parked in the driveway - if he could lower himself down, he could escape without anyone in the house noticing.

The door creaked open behind him. Ethan's intuition told him exactly who it must be.

"Ethan," Giles said. "I would have guessed that this was all your handiwork, had I not thought you were in prison."

Ethan turned around and saw Giles in the doorway, crossbow in hand. A tall woman with shortish dark hair and a sword stood next to him.

"Why, Ripper, you wound me," Ethan said, placing a hand on his chest in mock outrage. "Building the alchemy engine was all Hayden's idea. I merely provided technical advice. Well, that, and the one interesting part of the plan."

"Spike and Angel," Giles said.

"You know me too well."

"And you know what I'll do to you if you don't tell me how to reverse it."

"What? You'll kill me? Put an arrow through my heart? Not that I'm saying you wouldn't, mind you; if there's one thing I've always admired about you, Ripper, it's that ruthless streak of yours. I do wonder, though, if you would go quite so far while your little friend was watching." He glanced at Cordelia.

Giles began to lower his crossbow. Ethan grinned.

Then Giles shot Ethan in the thigh. Ethan fell to the floor, cursing vehemently and clutching his leg. The Watcher turned to Cordelia.

"Did it bother you to watch that?"

"Are you kidding? Best thing I've seen since RENT," Cordelia replied.

Nicole was at the bottom of the driveway, not far from the front gate with its small guardhouse, when the Slayer caught up to her. Nicole had half-hoped that she would. Also fortunate was the fact that the gate guard seemed to have fled, which meant that Nicole would not have to kill him to cover up what she was about to do to the girl. Normally, when it came to murder, Nicole was all about cool efficiency, but this one, this Slayer, with all her strength and speed and haughty, deep-seated belief in her own importance - she needed to die slowly.

Nicole halted abruptly and turned, pulling out her knife again. She focused her mind on Buffy's as the Slayer drew her own weapon and approached.

That was when she noticed two odd things. First, Buffy said nothing before she entered the fight. Nicole had had the impression that the girl was a talker.

Second, the content of the Slayer's thoughts was very unusual for someone about to engage in potentially deadly combat. Normally, Nicole's opponents focused their thoughts only on the most important details - searching for openings in Nicole's defenses while trying to avoid exposing themselves to attack. Then there would be a moment when the opponent would see an opportunity, where the mind would cry "There!" or "Now!" and Nicole could stop the attack before it started.

Buffy, on the other hand, seemed to be thinking of nothing in particular.

(hope Dawn's okay she looked all right but it's hard to tell got to find Hayden Hayden's house is huge big stupid rich guy I'm still paying for the full copper re-pipe I used to love those copper crayons in the big box with peach periwinkle lavender sepia now-)

Buffy lunged. Nicole had almost missed the single, warning thought; she jerked back at the last second and only narrowly avoided having ten inches of steel shoved through her right shoulder. She didn't even have time for a counterattack before the Slayer withdrew out of range.

(she's wearing a white suit way after labor day looks like Colonel Sanders mmm could go for fried chicken right now used to beg mom to buy it for dinner I miss her)

Nicole hunted for some piece of useful information in the cacophony of thoughts, some idea of what the Slayer was going to do next, what openings she might present. But there was nothing relevant at all.

(what if they can't change Angel back William is not what I expected huge dork but kind of sexy I totally did not just think that)

A hundred sharp slivers of pain exploded throughout Nicole's hand as Buffy kicked it hard, knocking the knife away and breaking many small bones in the process. Nicole jerked her injured hand back and tried to counterpunch with the good one, but Buffy caught Nicole's arm and threw the Frenchwoman over her shoulder. Gravel skittered as Nicole landed flat on her back.

"Now," Buffy said, putting her foot on Nicole's neck, "tell me where Hayden's going."

Nicole glared at her defiantly. Buffy was about to apply some additional pressure when she heard the crunch car tires coming down the gravel driveway behind her. She glanced back to see who it was-

-and Nicole threw her arms around Buffy's legs and twisted her whole body hard, throwing Buffy to the ground. Nicole got up, ready to run, when someone shouted, "Freeze! Federal officers!"

Nicole turned and saw two men in dark suits, standing in front of a black sedan and pointing guns at her. Dawn and another man whom Nicole vaguely recognized from the Dj Vu were in the back seat.

The telepath focused on one of the two agents, prying open his mind like an oyster. Arrest them, she thought, projecting images of Dawn and the man with her into the agent's mind. They're dangerous criminals.

The man turned and hesitantly pointed his gun at Dawn and her companion. "You're- you're under-"

An explosion of black-and-white stars filled Nicole's field of view. As she fell, she sensed the Slayer behind her, pulling back the hammer fist that had just struck the base of Nicole's skull. Then the world faded away.

Buffy looked over at Dawn, Wesley, and the two burly men with them. For whatever reason, neither of the dark-suited individuals seemed remotely confused or surprised by what Nicole had just done to them. Instead, they walked up to Buffy and looked down at Nicole.

"We're placing her under arrest," one of them said.

"Mmhmm," Buffy said uncertainly. "Are you sure you can handle someone like her?"

"We have special procedures," the agent answered cryptically. "She won't be bothering you again, Ms. Summers. And neither will Mr. Rayne."

Buffy didn't even bother to wonder how the agent knew her name. "Rayne, as in Ethan Rayne?" she asked. "He was in on this?"

"Yes ma'am."

"That explains a lot."

"Yes ma'am."

The other agent got down on his knees next to Nicole's unconscious form. He took a syringe of some kind from his jacket and injected her with it. "She'll stay out until she's properly contained," the agent explained. "The rest of your friends are up at the house. Some of them may need medical attention."

"Your nation thanks you for your help in this matter," the first agent said.

The two agents lifted Nicole between them and carried her to the car. Dawn and Wesley got out, and the agents laid Nicole down in the back seat. Before they closed the rear door, Dawn nudged Nicole's body roughly.

"Sfacciata," she muttered.

Then the sedan drove off, and Buffy, Wesley, and Dawn headed back up the hill to their friends.

Hayden drove up the Pacific Coast Highway with great care, not even taking the time to enjoy the view of the rocky, moonlit beach sixty feet below him. He had to stay under the speed limit - this was not a good time to be pulled over. Although Hayden doubted that any patrol officer would recognize plutonium on sight, having a metal briefcase full of whitish powder on the passenger's seat would provide enough probable cause to arrest Hayden on the spot. Perhaps it would be better to put the case under the front seat, just to be safe.

That was when he noticed the case was slightly open.

This was not good. Plutonium was not highly radioactive and could not do any harm outside the body, but if one inhaled it, death from lung fibrosis could occur within a month. And the plutonium in the case was in powder form.

Hayden tried to close the case, but it wouldn't stay shut. A closer look revealed that the latch was damaged. Cassio had broken it during his wrench attack.

Idiot boy, Hayden thought as a feeling of desperation overtook him. He needed to get that case closed right now. Maybe he could put something heavy on top of it. He glanced desperately around the floors and the back seat for anything that might work.

He didn't notice that he had veered into the wrong lane until the Greyhound bus was almost on top of him. The driver had swerved to Hayden's right, but the long body of the bus was covering most of the road. Hayden panicked and yanked the wheel left. The Jaguar missed the bus and punched through the guardrail.

He screamed all the way down.

Chapter 12

Dawn was appalled. "This is what Ethan did to the vamps?"

Buffy, standing beside her sister, nodded. "This is it. It's been very interesting."

Dawn shook her head, watching as William shyly attempted to get Tara's attention and Liam lolled on the couch, alternately chuckling at William, grinning at Buffy and Dawn, and checking out Cordelia's backside. They had gotten back to the Hyperion about an hour earlier, and Buffy was keeping watch over the vampires while Giles worked out how to disenchant them. Ethan Rayne had certainly made it difficult enough to do so.

William finally succeeded in his efforts. "Miss Maclay," he said, "I most humbly apologize for my untoward behavior earlier. I cannot imagine what came over me. For such a gentle lady as yourself to be subject to such uncivilized, nay, brutish behavior-"

"William," Tara interrupted, "it's all right. I shouldn't have touched you right then."

"Still, I find myself quite without excuse," fretted William, not going easy on himself. "It is true that I did find the fight . . . quite unexpectedly invigorating, actually. Exhilarating, even." He drifted off for a second before getting back to his self-flagellation. "Nonetheless, to attempt to bite a lady is utterly beyond the pale. You are gracious beyond compare, that you would be willing to put such a distasteful incident behind you."

Tara shook her head, trying hard not to laugh at William's earnestness. "Really, it's nothing. Besides, it all came out all right in the end. We got Dawn back, and that's what's important."

"Of course!" William smiled proudly, thrusting his chest out. "I should pay my respects to the young lady." He practically strutted over to Buffy and Dawn. "Miss Summers, Miss Dawn. I trust you both are well?"

"F-fine, thanks," said Dawn uncertainly.

"Good! It is heartening indeed to see that you are healthy after your ordeal, particularly as I myself assisted in rescuing you." William's eyebrow twitched just slightly in irritation at the derisive sound Liam made from behind him. "Perhaps I could regale you with tales of my exploits when your nerves are sufficiently settled, Miss Dawn."

"Um, thanks," said Dawn, "but I'm not supposed to let you . . . regale me, and is this really Spike, Buffy?"

Buffy shrugged. "This is the way he was before he got vamped."

"Mr. Big Bad?"

"Uh-huh." Buffy shook her head sadly. "Kinda disillusioning, isn't it?"

Dawn looked from her sister to William to Liam, who was still chuckling, and back to Buffy. "And Angel was . . ."

"Frat boy on Prozac?" Buffy supplied.

"That works. So how's Giles coming on that reversal spell?"

"Wesley and Anya had to make a supply run to a magic store, but it'll be soon." Buffy touched Dawn's arm. "We got you back. That's what's important. You're really all right?"

Dawn nodded. "Still feel a little squishy around my legs, but I'm okay. Thanks for coming to rescue me. Remind me to thank everybody."

"When a young lady of virtue is in distress, a gentleman could do no less," William proclaimed. "Ah! I feel a muse speaking to me."

"You'd best keep it quiet," said Liam. "The poor lass has had enough frights for one day."

"Lout!" growled William. "May I remind you that it was I who killed the monster whilst you were unconscious?"

"And if it hadn't been for me, you'd have been a sack of body parts," Liam shot back, never losing his amused grin.

Luckily for all concerned, Anya and Wesley chose that moment to enter the hotel, and the vampire quarrel was cut short.

"Did you get what we need?" asked Giles.

"And more," said Wesley. He gestured toward Anya. "May I borrow her the next time I have to shop for supplies? I paid less than half of what I expected to."

"The markups were horrendous," said Anya. "They must have Irpa demons pricing their products. Fortunately, Wesley had me there to talk 'em down. He'd have paid full price, and that would've been just stupid."

Wesley and Giles shared a look. "Yes, well, be that as it may, we can now disenchant Angel and Spike. And not a moment too soon," said Giles.

The spell had been reversed, and Spike was fuming, both literally, puffing obsessively on a cigarette, and figuratively.

"So it's this Ethan Rayne chap that did it? Turned me into a nancy?" the blond vampire asked.

"Turned you into your former self, yes," confirmed Giles.

"Where is he?"

"In government custody, I believe."

Spike stubbed out the cigarette on a marble tabletop as Wesley cringed. "I'll find 'im. And when I do, I'll rip his head off and shove it up his-"

"Spike," interrupted Buffy, "your head would explode."

Spike glowered, lighting another cigarette. "I don't care, long as the last thing I see is his bloody, mangled corpse!" Tara giggled, and Spike rounded on her. "And what's with you, calling that ponce William 'sweet'? Idiot couldn't even tell what side of the street you walk on, and you all but drew him a diagram!"

"Go easy on her, Spike," said Angel. "You were kind of sweet, face it. Although, y'know, your poetry . . ."

Spike choked on his cigarette smoke. "Shut your gob, Liam!"

Angel smirked. "I think I recall something about, 'the lady from Eire, with her gleaming, golden hair-'"

Spike flew at Angel and tackled him hard enough to knock both him and the couch over backwards. They began trading loud, thumping blows as they rolled around on the lobby floor. Spike, filled with rage, seemed to be trying to kill Angel with his bare hands, while Angel couldn't seem to repress a smirk of amusement even as he defended himself. They finally got on Wesley's last nerve.

"Will you two take it outside?" snapped the ex-Watcher. "Preferably in the daytime?"

Angel trapped Spike in a headlock. "Sorry, Wesley," said the elder vampire.

"Ow!" grunted Spike. "Let me go, you buggering-"

"Watch the language, Spike," said Angel, releasing the younger vampire.

Spike threw a glare at his elder and pulled out another cigarette, swearing under his breath.

Wesley had had enough. "Light that cigarette, Spike, and I'll put it out with holy water."

The look on his face promised he would do just that. Xander leaned over to Willow. "Is it just me, or has Wesley grown a spine since Sunnydale?"

"Not just you," murmured Willow in reply.

Spike, still spoiling for a fight, glared at Wesley. "Why don't you just try it, you-"

Buffy's voice interrupted him. "Spike, let it go." It was more a request than a command.

The blond vampire struggled internally for a moment, but gave in to Buffy's entreaty. He stomped off toward the office, cigarette in hand.

Buffy turned to Wesley. "I. . .wanted to thank you," she said. "That was some good Watching, back there."

Wesley didn't seem to know whether to be confused, surprised or pleased. After a moment of hesitation, he said, "Thank you. I suppose I had to get it right eventually."

Buffy smiled.

As Wesley and Buffy spoke, Angel's eyes flicked between Spike's retreating backside and Buffy's face. Making a decision, the elder vampire followed the younger.

Inside the office, Spike was about to light another cigarette when Angel's voice stopped him. "She trusts you, doesn't she?"

Spike looked at Angel. "Buffy? Yeah. Yeah, she trusts me. After all, who else does she have to count on right now?"

Angel considered this. "She told you where she was."

"She did. Hell, I'm the only one of the Sunnydale crew that knows." Spike smirked a little. "And it's not like you're there." The younger vampire watched his grandsire's face with cruel glee. "I'm the one she counts on nowadays to protect the Bit when she can't. I'm the only one she can talk to about what she's going through, 'cause she doesn't want to burden her so-called friends with the knowledge that they're responsible for dragging her away from her final reward. Face it, I'm all she's got."

One of Angel's hands was suddenly wrapped around Spike's throat. "If you hurt her, Spike, I swear-"

"Oh, if I hurt her? Tell me, is there a way to hurt her you haven't discovered yet?" Angel shoved Spike away, causing the younger vampire to sprawl against the desk. Spike chuckled. "I won't be the one hurting her, mate. 'S not like it's any of your business, anyway; you're not a part of her life anymore. You've got your world, with your own Scoobies and your brown-eyed beauty."

Angel's eyes narrowed. "Cordy and I aren't like that."

"Cordy, is it?" Spike's grin grew larger as Angel glanced away. "I've seen the way you look at her, the way you touch her. Somebody's got a crush."

"That's nonsense, but you know what? It doesn't matter what my feelings for Cordelia are," Angel said very softly, regaining his footing. "I love Buffy. I will always love Buffy. And I'm telling you, if you hurt her in any way, I will make you pay."

"I won't be hurting her. Can't, remember?" Spike indicated his head.

"Your nature will reassert itself, even with that chip in your head. Don't fool yourself about that."

Spike gave Angel a humorless smile. "And yours won't because of your soul? There's nothing inside you screaming to just take what you know is yours, like, say, your 'friend' with the amazing body? I'm sure there's some way you could ruin her life-say, drive her insane, make her kill you, or burn her to a crisp. You telling me you're positive that won't happen?" Angel looked away in sudden discomfort. Spike chuckled. "I'll make you a bargain: you leave me to my illusions, and I'll leave you to yours."

Spike walked out of the office, and Angel leaned on the desk, taking deep breaths, regaining control. "I really hate that boy," he muttered.

"Angel?" Buffy's soft voice came from the doorway. The vampire looked up at her.

"Buffy. How's Dawn?" he asked.

"She's fine. Says she's going to start a 'People Who Kidnapped Me' scrapbook." Buffy rolled her eyes, and Angel chuckled. "How about you?"

"I've got a headache. And a mortal case of embarrassment." He shook his head, grinning a little. "I'm never going to live this down. Not with this bunch."

Buffy laughed. "Well, if it's any comfort, neither will Spike."

Angel had a million things to tell her about Spike, a million warnings on the tip of his tongue, but they all died as he looked at her-really looked at her-for the first time since she'd come to L.A. She was so thin, thinner than she'd been even after her mother's death, and there were shadows in her face and eyes he'd never seen before. Angel sat on the edge of the desk, holding out his hands, and Buffy came forward and took them.

"How are you, Buffy? Really."

Her green eyes looked around the office, at anything but him. "I-I can't say. It's hard. There's so much . . . I feel like I left part of me behind in that grave. Something I once had that I can barely even remember now."

Angel disentangled one of his hands from hers and brought it up to brush the hair back from her face very gently. "You'll find it again."

"You don't know that."

"No," said Angel, standing. "But I know you."

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead, and after a moment, Buffy relaxed into his embrace like she'd never left it.

A little while later, both groups reassembled in the Hyperion's lobby to say goodbye. Dawn gave Angel a hug.

"Thanks for helping rescue me," she said.

"Thank Cordy. It was her vision," he told her. Dawn had no problem doing just that.

"It's certainly been interesting, Mr. Giles," said Wesley, shaking the Watcher's hand.

"That assessment will get no arguments from me," agreed Giles.

Willow and Xander both hugged Cordelia and promised to keep in touch. Xander also shook Gunn's hand.

"It's been very cool," said the carpenter. "Thanks for loaning me the harpoon gun. I gotta rig me up something like that."

"Hell, you can have that one," said Gunn. "Fred here's been helping me build a better one."

"It's all about the physics," said the young woman. She opened her mouth like she was going to say more, but was interrupted by the lobby doors opening and admitting a young man.

"Gianni!" Dawn squealed. She ran and threw her arms around the cryptologist's neck and just about squashed the cat in his arms. "And Diogenes!"

"Hello, Bella," said Cassio.

Dawn dragged him over to Buffy. "Buffy, this is Gianni Cassio. He was helping me escape when Nicole the Bitch caught us."

Cassio shrugged modestly. "At least I got the security system down."

"That was important," said Buffy. She shook his hand. "Thanks for helping my sister."

"Eh, it was no problem. I knew there was something bad about that job the second I took it. I think I'll go work for somebody less scary now-like the Cosa Nostra." He looked down at the cat he was holding. "Me and my friend Diogenes. He's got good taste in people."

Dawn took the cat into her own arms. "Where are you going?"

"Back to Europe, I think. I am not sure." He took Dawn's shoulders, kissed both her cheeks, and said, "Addio, bambina. Have a good life."

"You too, Gianni." Dawn handed the cat back, and Cassio left.

"We'd best be going as well," said Giles. "Particularly as Dawn has school tomorrow."

"What?" Dawn looked outraged. "Don't I get a day off on account of having been kidnapped and bled for my power?"

"Sorry, kid," said Buffy. "'Bye, guys. Thanks big time."

One final round of goodbyes, and they were gone.

Epilogue

Ethan Rayne's leg hurt.

That was the first thought that crossed his mind as he came to consciousness. The second was that he was no longer in his very comfortable bedroom at Hayden's place. The room he was in was remarkably . . . white.

Other bits and pieces slowly assembled in his drugged mind. Like good old Ripper shooting him in the leg. And those lovely men in black suits bundling him into a car and shooting him full of sedatives.

Overall, he came to the conclusion that he was back in U.S. government custody. And, to add insult to injury, all the plans for escape he'd been working on before Hayden's people had sprung him were now shot to hell.

"Bugger," he muttered.

"Merde," muttered Nicole D'Armand as soon as she was conscious enough to have an opinion about her current state. Her head hadn't hurt this bad since she was twelve, when her powers were first developing. The Frenchwoman covered her eyes against the light boring its way through her eyelids. Where was she?

Movement made her nauseous, but she managed to tip her head to the side without throwing up. Cautiously, she moved her hand away from her eyes and took a look.

The room she was in was about eight foot by eight foot, with all the amenities of a jail cell and all the charm of a sanitarium. The white surfaces shot daggers right through her skull.

"Merde," she repeated with more feeling. Now she was going to have to escape from a prison, which would be no easy task, even for her. Perhaps Lucas would help. Of course, first, she had to be able to think, which was extremely hard thanks to the drum and bugle corps that was playing in her head. Just what had that little Slayer done to her, anyway?

The door to her cell hissed open, and a woman dressed in a lab coat and carrying a machine Nicole didn't recognize walked in. The woman pressed a few buttons on whatever it was, and it responded with a pipping noise.

"Who are you?" Nicole asked.

"I'm Dr. Paula Denmar," the woman said, not looking up. "How are you feeling, Nicole?"

"I want out," said Nicole. She wasn't, at this point, actively trying to control Denmar. However, a statement like that would generally have brought to the forefront of the doctor's mind useful information like why she was here, where she was, and what kind of security she would be facing when she tried to escape.

Nicole got nothing. The doctor remained a blank.

Denmar looked at Nicole. The doctor was an attractive woman in her mid-forties with short, light brown hair speckled here and there with gray. Something in her green eyes, though, chilled Nicole to the bone. Not an easy task, but this woman managed it, especially when she smiled.

"Don't bother trying to read my mind, Nicole; I'm completely psi-blind. That's why I was assigned to you, as a matter of fact," Denmar said.

Nicole's stomach sank. Most people possessed a small amount of psychic ability, whether they knew it or not. In most cases, it gave them very little or no power, but it allowed those like Nicole access to their minds. The psi-blind, however, were utterly opaque.

Worse, the woman's knowledge of Nicole's powers and statement that she'd been "assigned" to Nicole specifically because of her psi-blindness suggested that this wasn't an ordinary prison. It wasn't much of a leap to come to the conclusion that Nicole was in a place very similar to that which Ethan Rayne had been in (and perhaps was again).

Denmar brought the machine she was carrying up to Nicole's temple. Its pipping set Nicole's nerves even further on edge.

"Good," Denmar murmured to herself with a satisfied smile.

Nicole didn't want to think about what that might mean. Instead, she tried to find another mind nearby. Say, the person she heard coughing a short distance away.

Nothing. Nicole could feel nothing. In fact, it didn't even feel like she'd been reaching out mentally. She tried again and was only rewarded with a more intense headache and a wave of nausea. The psychic let out a gasp and closed her eyes against the pain.

Denmar spoke again. "You might not want to try using your powers, Nicole. They're not going to work for you, and all you'll end up doing is giving yourself a case of vertigo."

"What have you done to me?" Nicole demanded weakly.

"There's a microchip implanted in your brain that will inhibit your abilities until we feel you're ready to become, shall we say, a more productive citizen," said Denmar. "You're going to serve your country very well."

"I'm French, you imbecile."

"You're nothing, Nicole. Nothing and no one," stated Denmar. "As far as the world is concerned, you're dead. No one outside a very select group knows where you are, or even that you exist. The sooner you understand that and start cooperating, the better your life will be. Do I make myself clear?"

Nicole opened her eyes and glared at the doctor. "My employer will know, Doctor. Be prepared for one hell of a lawsuit. He will . . ."

The psychic trailed off. Something was forming in her mind: a picture of Lucas Hayden, driving. Something caught his attention, something important, and drew it off the road for a second-

Flying, tumbling over the edge, falling down and down and down until there was nothing left.

"He's dead," whispered Nicole. Lucas Hayden, the one man who was never afraid of her abilities, the one person she had ever truly considered her friend, was dead. "His car went over the edge, and he's dead." Her chest felt hollow.

Denmar looked startled. "You can tell that, even with the telepathic inhibitor? How intriguing. It makes me think there are more areas of your very fascinating brain that should be mapped. I think, Nicole, that we'll be seeing a great deal of each other." Denmar stood and walked to the door.

A wave of panic washed over Nicole. "You can't do this. You can't imprison me. I can't . . ." The Frenchwoman looked around the confines of the cell and tried to struggle to her feet, but nausea kept her from getting further than the edge of the bed. Her muscles felt weak, slack. "I can't stay in here. Please, let me out."

Denmar smiled that icy, frightening smile. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Nicole. There are just too many uses for you."

As the door hissed shut behind the doctor, Nicole had another vision: Dawn, standing cocksure in that teenaged way of hers, saying, "Karmic payback's a bitch, isn't it, Nicole?"

Then even she was gone, and for the first time in her life, Nicole was utterly alone.

End

Better Buffy Fiction Archive Entry

Regression