TITLE:  Vesparys (27/?)
AUTHOR:   Nynaeve

BUFFY AND WILLOW'S DORM ROOM
STEVENSON HALL, U.C. SUNNYDALE
MARCH 24 - 9:10 A.M.

"When did she get back?"

"Shhhh...she's still asleep.  You might wake her up."

"So?  There's evil to be fought...demons to slay..."

"Shhhh!  That's not until tonight and if she's still asleep
then she must be really tired."

"Well, we got in pretty late and *we're* up."

"Cordelia, shut up,"  Buffy muttered tiredly.  She lay unmoving,
her eyes closed.  "What time is it, Wil?"

Willow flashed Cordelia an 'I-told-you-so' look and said softly,
"Just after nine, Buffy.  Do you wanna sleep some more?  We can-"

Buffy groaned and flopped over on her stomach.  "No, I'll get
up.  Cordelia's right - we've got a lot to get ready for."

"Yeah, but,"  Willow protested, worried about the late hour Buffy
had gotten in, whenever it had been,  "the day time stuff is...
well, it's non-Buffy required stuff.  It's not like tonight with
the slaying stuff, which is definitely Buffy-necessary.  I guess
that's kind of obvious though since it's slaying and after all,
you are the Slayer..."  Willow's voice trailed off as Buffy sat
up, rubbing her eyes.

Cordy was staring at Buffy, her eyes narrowing as she did so.
At once she exclaimed, "Oh my God, you and Angel - what did you
do to him?  Are we gonna have to stake him now?  Cause if I'm out
of a job..."

"Buffy?"  Willow now eyed her cautiously.

"No!  Of course not,"  Buffy protested.

"But you *were* out late,"  Cordy accused.

"We ... talked ... a lot,"  the Slayer stammered.

"Buffy,"  Willow said, as she pointed.  "Your neck."

Buffy's hand flew to her neck and a flush spread across her
face.

"You two did more than talk!"  Cordy exclaimed.

Willow and Buffy both gave her looks that said quite clearly,
"DUH!"

Buffy's face wore a distressed expression, distress for the
concern she was clearly causing her friends, distress for the
lack of control she and Angel had exhibited, distress
over the secret Angel was keeping from her.  "What happened
in November, Cordelia?"  Buffy challenged, hoping she could
get something out of her former classmate.

Cordelia froze.  Her eyes widened.  She stumbled over the
single word she tried to say.  "N...Noth...Nothing."

Willow chuckled harshly.  "No offense, but I hope you're a better
actress when you've got a script, Cordy."

Cordelia glared at Willow before looking back at Buffy who
was staring at her, her own eyes hard and cold.

"Cordy,  I know *something* happened.  Please tell me what it was."

"How do you know?"  the 'beauty queen' asked.

"I remember things.  Things that never happened and I know
aren't dreams."

"Did you talk with Angel about this?"

Buffy nodded.  "He won't tell me.  I want to know why."

Cordy bit her lip.  She frowned, then sighed.  Her gaze slipped
from Buffy to Willow and back to Buffy.  "I - it's not fair
to ask me."

"I know,"  Buffy agreed.  "But it's not fair that Angel won't
tell me himself."

"What is it you think he's not telling you?"  Willow asked,
deflecting attention from the now seriously concerned
Cordelia.

Buffy turned to Willow.  "Wil, when I went to L.A. in November
something happened between Angel and me."  She paused.  
"I can only remember bits and what I remember doesn't make sense.
Angel in the sunlight.  Angel and I talking in his apartment, which
I've never even seen.  Angel and I ... well, *not* talking."

Willow's brow creased in confusion for a moment.  Then her face
lit up with a goofy grin.  "Oh, *that* kind of not talking!
Buffy, that's great.  I mean, you and Angel...wait, that's *not*
great because it can't happen."

"Which is why I want to know why I'm having memories of things
that never took place.  He says he'll tell me when we've
gotten through this situation.  I can't help thinking he'll
just melt into the night though.   Cordelia?"  Buffy looked back at
Cordy.

The brunette sighed.  "Buffy, if he wouldn't tell you, please don't
ask me to."

"But you *do* know?"  Buffy challenged.

Cordelia nodded miserably.

"Why would he tell *you* something he won't tell me?"  the
Slayer demanded.

That stiffened Cordelia's spine a bit and she replied angrily,
"Look, I'm pretty valuable to Angel.  It might not be going too
far to say we're friends these days.  He trusts me with a lot
of important-"

Buffy interrupted her.  "I'm sorry.  You're right.  I didn't
mean it that way.  It's just that - it seems to be about
him and me and ... I don't understand why he won't tell me."

Cordelia calmed down, though being who she was, she made no
pretense of accepting Buffy's apology.  "Look, Buffy, I wish
I could tell you.  I do.  But if he won't tell you, I can't 
betray his confidence."

"Cordelia...please?"  Buffy pled.

Cordy dropped her head, remembering the anguish Angel had gone
through after sacrificing his happiness to continue battling
the forces of Darkness.  It brought back memories of Doyle who,
eager to 'fight the good fight' as Angel did, had sacrificed
himself for his two friends and a boatload of people he didn't
really know.  And memories of Doyle always shamed Cordelia into
remembering how she had taken him for granted, had teased him
almost because of the obvious torch he'd carried for her.

"Cordelia?"  Willow added softly.

The young almost-actress looked up.  Buffy's eyes were filled with
unshed tears and Wil's face was etched with worry.  Swallowing past
the lump in her own throat, Cordelia at last said,  "What if I tell
you what happened was the most precious thing in the world to him and
that the only reason you can't remember it is to protect you?"

"Is that the truth?"  Buffy demanded.

Cordy nodded.

"Will you make sure he tells me?"  the blonde asked.

Cordy said, "I'll try.  You know that's the best I can offer.
You know him, Buffy."

"I know he'll try to go on protecting me even when I don't want
him to."

"When exactly would that be?"  Willow teased gently.

For the first time since waking, Buffy smiled.

Willow smiled back and even Cordelia managed a weak grin.

"So, um, your neck?"  Wil asked again.

Nonchalantly, Buffy said, "Oh, it's just a scratch."

"Un-huh,"  Willow agreed, adding sarcastically,  "you just brushed
up against his teeth?"

"Something like that,"  Buffy said with the same wicked grin that had
been on her face when she made her 'Orb of Thessala' suggestion
to Angel the night before.

Cordelia indicated she was going to the bathroom to get dressed
and do her make-up.  As she left, she grew concerned about
Angel, wanted to hurry to him as soon as possible, for Buffy
and Willow had sunk to Willow's bed where Buffy was rattling on
excitedly about how she'd forgotten how she felt when she kissed
Angel.

*********************************************************************

RUPERT GILES' RESIDENCE
SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA
9:25 A.M. - MARCH 24

Giles watched as Wes and Angel discussed likely scenarios for
the coming Vesparys possession.  They felt, given Cordelia's
visions, they knew pretty well who the demons would possess, though
they admitted, as Giles did, that it made little sense for the
demons to possess Angel and Oz.  Spike, listening with a small
portion of his attention, had started to inquire about that.

"Oh, right,  never mind,"  he had finished.  "A little too
poofy, that."

Giles and Wesley gave Spike confused looks.

He stared at them, conveying his honest opinion that they were
both beyond stupid.  "Poofy?  You know - the *both* of them being-"

"Oh, right, yes!"  Giles exclaimed.  "Thank you, Spike, for
an image that may haunt me the rest of my natural life."

Wesley turned away, shaking his head as well.

From time to time the conversation between vampire and former
Watcher was interrupted by Spike's loud exclamations, usually
highly critical of the guests on the current morning talk program
he was watching.  Giles was sad to admit to himself he knew the
program to be "Jenny Jones".  Spike's last stay  had been far
too long.

Giles continued to study Angel, while putting together a 
breakfast for himself and Wes.  He knew the girls would
probably soon be there with doughnuts, so 'breakfast' actually
consisted of English Breakfast Tea, brewed to Giles' own
meticulous standards.  

The night before, when Angel, who had followed Buffy out,
failed to return, he and Wes had stepped outside.  Buffy and 
Angel had both been gone, though Giles had grown concerned
about the obvious damage to the clinging vines.  He would never
confront Buffy with his suspicions, knowing from long years of
experience, she was in general a trustworthy, level-headed young
woman.  He also knew Angel was her one irredeemable weakness.

Motioning with one hand, he had asked Wes,  "Any chance Angel 
would...?"

Wes had shaken his head.  "No more chance than Buffy would."

Giles had nodded.  "Wesley, may I ask you something?"

"Of course,"  Wes had answered with his usual formality.

"You may not want to answer, but I would appreciate if you would
do so anyway.  You may be assured anything you tell me would
remain confidential."

"Oh, dear.  This sounds quite serious.  Do you wish to go back
inside?"

Giles looked toward his apartment.  "Actually, no.  Spike is less 
likely to overhear us out here."  

They had sat, instead, at the small table in the courtyard.
Giles had begun,  "I didn't mean to eavesdrop earlier, when
you were speaking with Cordelia, but given the close proximity...
Well, I'm sorry, but I *did* overhear some of your conversation."

"Understandable,"  Wesley had pardoned him.

"What did she mean when she referred to everything Angel had
been through with Buffy?"

Wes had hesitated.  "I assumed she was referring to their long
history."

Giles had looked sternly at Wes.  That look always caused Wesley
to color a bit and it had done so then as well.  "She said,
I believe,  "what he did then was".  That sounds very specific to
me, wouldn't you agree?"

Wesley had looked at the table for a long while.  When he had spoken,
his voice was far less formal, his face was less set than
usual.  "Rupert, I'm hardly at liberty to tell you about ...
that is to share information which was given to me in the strictest
of confidence."

Giles had grown angry.  "Damn it, man!  If this concerns Buffy,
then I need to know.  I may not officially be her Watcher any longer,
but she is someone for whom I have deep affection and I will do
what I must to protect her from *anyone* who harms her."

So, Wesley had reluctantly told Giles the story Cordelia had told
to him one sunny morning.  When he had finished, Giles had sat 
back in his chair, clearly stunned.

"Angel did ... that?"  Giles had asked.

Wes had nodded.  "Gave back the one wild hope that, I dare say,
sustains him."

"And Buffy has no memory of this?"

Wes had shaken his head this time.  "No one does, except Angel
himself."

"How do you know then?"

Wes had sighed.  "Doyle - the one who - well, I suppose Doyle was 
my predecessor in some ways- Doyle got it out of Angel.  For 
Angel's sake, Doyle told Cordelia. It was Cordelia who, with 
Angel's permission, informed me of the events."

Giles had choked slightly.  "Cordelia asked permission?"

Wes had smiled briefly, then come to his pretty colleague's
defense.  "Rupert, Cordelia has changed since leaving Sunnydale."
He had grinned at the still shocked expression on Giles' face.
"Oh, don't mistake me, she'll always be ...well, who she is.
But working with Angel, the things she has seen, has experienced
herself - those things have  changed her."

Giles had taken off his glasses, rubbing his eyes and smiling
tiredly.  "And I suppose we should all be grateful?"

Wes had nodded slowly.

"All right then,"  Giles had agreed.  They had been silent.
"Buffy really has no memory of that day?"

"How could she?"  Wes had asked rhetorically.  "The Oracles
took back the entire day, erased it, as it were."

"Still, I can't help but wonder..."  Giles' voice had faded.
"Though she would never admit it to me, I have no doubt what
you described is Buffy's dearest dream."

They had remained outside talking for a long while.  Giles had
asked about the Oracles, about Cordelia's visions, if Wes had
any news from the Council.  Wes had asked how the situation was
in Sunnydale.  He had been surprised to learn of the Initiative
and of Maggie Walsh's "son", Adam the cybernetic demon-man hybrid.
Giles had explained in detail about Spike's current condition.
It had caused chuckles in both of them for, although Wesley
had never known Spike in his old incarnation, the neutered
version was enough to irk any thinking person in very short order.

"For a while,"  Giles had been explaining,  "he was running with
Harmony Kendall."

"Harmony Kendall?"  Wes had asked.

"Friend of Cordelia's,"  Angel had said from behind them.  Both
former Watchers had turned, making no comments on Angel's rather
disheveled appearance.  "Who in their right mind would sire
Harmony?"

Giles had nodded in agreement, unable to supress a grin.  
"One of the Mayor's 'boys', at graduation."

"Has she caused a lot of ...yeah, right, what am I about to ask?"

Giles had laughed softly.  "Yeah, real 'world in peril' stuff,"  
he had joked.

"I can imagine,"  Angel had replied, clearly amused by the whole
idea.  "Buffy always said that girl was two-faced."

"I would say that is quite literally true now,"  Wes had added as
the three men had laughed.

Catching his breath, Giles had said,  "You know, none of this is
really all that funny."

"Yeah,"  Angel had agreed, "but sometimes it doesn't have to be
all *that* funny."

Shortly after, they had gone inside.  Giles and Wesley to sleep,
Angel, most likely, to keep an eye on Spike.

Now in the morning light, Giles studied Angel in a way he'd been 
unable to the night before.  Giles had had a more than antagonistic
relationship with Angel, even before he'd turned, before he'd killed
Jenny, before he'd tortured Giles himself.  Angel, and the demon
Angelus, had always been a threat to Buffy in one way or another.
Though Giles had felt Buffy's pain, recalling clearly her simple, yet
anguished statement the night of her prom - "He's leaving me." -
Giles understood why Angel had left and felt it was the best thing
he could have done.  With him in her life, the Slayer had no
peace.  Now Giles admired Angel for giving back his own happiness,
for taking on the bitter resentment of his one true love, and for
protecting her from memories which would drain her as surely as
any vampire might.  If Giles had ever questioned Angel's 
character, had ever doubted him (and he had), Wesley's story
put an end to those questions and doubts.  That the fate of
the world might, at times, rest on Angel's shoulders gave Giles
a sliver of peace, such a sliver as he knew Angel would never
have.

A knock at the door brought Giles out of his reverie.  Willow's head
poked in.  Giles figured at least one of them had knocked this
time, which was a most unusual circumstance.

"We've got doughnuts,"  Willow called out.

"Jelly ones,"  Buffy added.

"Lots and lots of jellies,"  Cordelia further added.

Xander and Anya were right behind the three girls.  Giles watched the 
group assembled in his living room, dispensing tea as needed, handing
cream and sugar to Buffy, finding the napkins Willow realized they'd
forgotten, and giving Anya  a most puzzled look when she asked for
peanut butter.

"It's for..." she began.

Giles held up his hand.  "Truly, I don't want to know."

Anya shrugged and took the proffered jar.

Giles smiled distractedly, feeling, despite the coming battle,
and despite Spike's lamentable presence, that all was right 
in their  world.  

Buffy brought him a pastry and smiled at him.  Her gaze turned toward
her friends as well.  "Like old times, isn't it?"  she asked.

Giles nodded.  "Yes, indeed."

Slayer and Watcher were silent, thinking over past battles, all
whose end results were chalked up in the proverbial 'win'
column, though some of those victories were indubitably
phyrric.

Around them swirled and surged the hidden eddies, as always.  Willow
was unaware that most likely, Oz had returned.  Buffy herself did not
know about the events in Los Angeles, but now her Watcher did.
None knew of the details of her encounter with Angel, though Willow
knew bits and pieces.  The ties that bound them all together also
tripped them up at times, but it was times like these, crises,
when the 'Scooby gang' proved their mettle, demonstrated that
there is little stronger than friendship and love.

Angel was watching Buffy, having observed her hair was brushed to 
cover her neck.  Giles met his eyes and they exchanged almost
imperceptible nods.  Buffy watched them watch each other and thought of
the tug-of-war that had always existed amongst them - Giles her
Watcher and, truth be told, more her father now than her
biological one; Angel the one love she could not escape and the one
love completely off limits to her; herself, trying to balance her
heart against her head.  She sighed and gave them both a smile.
She had come to accept she wouldn't have changed this complex,
tortuous labyrinth of emotions for anything.

What was it Spike had said last year? Their blood called out 
for one another.  They could love and hate
and shag (well, not that) and fight, but she and Angel could
never be *friends*.  And they never would.  Somehow, Buffy
didn't think they really wanted to be, not deep down, not in
their blood.


*****************************************************************

WOODS - SUNNYDALE
10:08 A.M. - MARCH 24

The figure hidden by scrubby bushes turned over, groaned
as light stabbed his eyes.  He had vague memories of the
night before, of chasing a familiar individual.  With a 
start, the naked figure sat up, searching his hazy recollections
for any instances of violence done to humans.  He sighed with
relief, recalling only tearing some bushes apart.

Last night had been the night before the full moon.  Tonight
he would have to lock himself up, find a way to get to his
former cage.  He couldn't risk hurting someone.   When the 
moon had passed, he would find Willow.  When the moon had
passed he could quit lurking in the shadows, gazing in at
the assemblage of his friends as they met at Giles, hard
at work keeping the residents of Sunnydale safe from the
monsters under the bed, from the things that went bump,
thump, and slurp in the night.

He studied his surroundings, got his bearings, and knew 
he had left his van and clothes fairly close to where he'd 
ended up.  He hoped he would be able to get that far without 
being seen.
 
Daniel Osborne was back in Sunnydale and his timing couldn't
have been worse.

*****************************************************************

SUNNYDALE MOTOR LODGE
DANA SCULLY'S ROOM
10:34 A.M. - MARCH 24

"Scuh-leay!"  Mulder called, pounding on her door.

"I'll be right there,"  Scully shouted, rushing around
her room.  In two fluid movements she stepped into
her heels, while putting her second earring into place.
As she got to the door, she grabbed her purse.

Mulder was leaning against the wall.

"You OK?"  he asked.  Her silence of the night before and her
unusual tardiness this morning worried him.

"Yeah,"  she assured him.  "I uh ... I just had trouble
sleeping."

Mulder looked at her. quizzically.  He cocked his head slightly.
"Isn't that usually my line?"

She shrugged.

"You sure everything's all right?"

Scully stopped as they walked toward the restaurant's brightly
lit coffee shop.  The words almost tumbled out of her.
When this case was over she promised herself, berating herself as
she did so for being a coward.  She sighed.  "Mulder, really,
I'm fine.  It's just this case - it's really starting to get to me."

He nodded.

They continued down to the coffee shop where Mulder ate a
cholesterol filled breakfast and Scully consumed a bran muffin.
They discussed their plans for the day.  Scully took her cross
from the pocket of her jacket, asking their waitress for the name
of a good jeweler.

Mulder grinned at her.  "This town is really working on you,
isn't it?"

"And it isn't on you?"  she countered.

He nodded with the same grin plastered on his face.  "All right,
Agent Skeptical, we'll stop at the jewelers,"  he teased.

"Why thank you, Agent Gullible,"  she had replied, smiling broadly.

They finished their breakfasts in a pleasant silence.

END PART 27

Vesparys (28/33)

WEGMAN'S JEWELERS
DOWNTOWN SUNNYDALE
11:03 A.M. - MARCH 24	

Scully fingered the two chains the jeweler held out for her
inspection.  She made her choice quickly and easily.  The
jeweler rang up her purchase, took her credit card, and
made polite conversation while they waited for the card
approval to come through.

"What brings you to Sunnydale, Miss Scully?"  the jeweler
asked.

"Business,"  Scully stated.

The man nodded, then gave her a perplexed look.  "Business?"

Scully continued to gaze at him, her look bland and inscrutable.

He leaned closer to her.  "Which kind do you hunt?"  he asked
conspiratorially.

In a stage whisper, she replied,  "The gray ones."

Mulder covered the astonished laugh that escaped his lips with
a hasty cough.  Scully turned and looked at him.  He was peering
intently at the merchandise in the case opposite Scully.  She
watched as he shifted, viewing the jewelry from different angles.

"You have some *lovely* stones here, Mr.  Wegman."  He looked
up in time to see the alarmed expression on Scully's face.
"I mean, the diamonds."

"Oh, uh, thank you,"  the jeweler sputtered.  "I'm uh...that
is ... Mr. Wegman was the previous owner.  He used his ...
er ... well, he acquired them."

"I'm getting the impression Mr. Wegman wouldn't have been able
to help Miss Scully with her cross?"  Mulder asked.

The man looked at Mulder.  "That is ... well, no."

The credit card machine beeped and spit out the copies Scully
would sign.  As she signed the slip, the jeweler offered to
put her cross on the chain for her.

"Miss Scully?"

"Yes?"

"The um ... O-ring on your charm is seriously weakened.  I could
fix it for you."

Scully hesitated.

"It's - Sunnydale isn't a good place to be without this sort
of talisman."

Scully nodded.

"It will take me a little bit of time.  Would you like to come
back later this afternoon?"

"All right,"  she agreed.  

"Give me a couple of hours...say, anytime after two p.m.  I close 
at five."

As they walked out of the shop, having promised to come back between
two and five, Scully asked Mulder what their next move would be.

"I thought we would check out the library.  Maybe we can determine
where these things might 'spawn'."

"You don't think Mr. Giles can figure it out?"  she asked, surprised
that Mulder didn't want to spend more time with the 
monster-hunting set.

He looked over at her, confounded by her sudden interest in
the Slayer and her cohorts.  He shrugged.  "Maybe a little,
old-fashioned detective work is required here."

"So, where's the library?"  Scully asked with a smile.

Mulder slipped his hand in the small of her back and pointed
straight ahead.

*********************************************************************

RUPERT GILES' RESIDENCE
SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA
3:47 P.M. - MARCH 24

Cordelia, Xander, and Anya came through Giles' front door
arguing.  

"I'm telling you,"  Cordy said in her 'I'm-right-and-you're-
such-an-idiot' tone,  "the list says 'moxilla bear roost',
whatever *that* is."

"Cordy, I go to the magic shop for Giles *all* the time.
I've learned how to read his ... unique handwriting.  Besides,
there is no such thing as 'moxilla bear roost',"  Xander
explained.

"I'm telling you,"  she insisted.  "When the whole spell fails
and we all die horrible, grisly deaths because *you* wouldn't
listen..."

Xander ignored her and handed Giles a bag of Vanilla Bean Roast
coffee.

"Thank you,"  Giles said dryly.  "I'm sure we're all going to
need this before the night is over."

Cordelia stood, open mouthed.  The smug look on Xander's face
caused her to snap her jaw closed abruptly.  "Fine,"  she said,
in a huff,  "just because I have better things to do than
fetch, like a good little boy-"

"Oh, yeah?"  Xander retorted, cutting her off.  "Well, at least
I don't have these lame-ass, vague 'visions' about some big,
scary danger-"

"Lame-ass?"  Cordelia shrieked.  "I'll have you know those visions
can be pretty darn important-"

"Enough!"  Angel roared from across the room.  "This isn't the
time to pretend you're back in high school fighting to hide the
fact you like each other."

Xander and Cordy both gave off inarticulate sounds of protest
and dismay.

"You're just jealous,"  Anya muttered.

Cordy turned around, her face aghast.  "Jealous?  of Xander?
Xander Harris?"

Anya nodded, squeezing her boyfriend's arm possessively.

"Oh, please,"  Cordy said and stalked away.

Anya smiled her smug, triumphant grin.  She missed the glares
the rest tossed her, Xander, and the hopping-mad Cordelia.

"Look,"  Buffy said, her tone sharp and irritated,  "this is going
to take every single one of us working together.  If *anyone*
in this room thinks they can't handle it, they need to leave.
Now."

Spike got up from the couch and headed for the door.

"Sit down, Spike,"  Buffy, Giles, and Angel all said together.

"But ... she said!  She said if anyone could-int work together,
they should leave.  Thass wot I'm doin', mates,"  Spike
protested.

"Sit down, Spike,"  Buffy repeated.

"But you said!"  he insisted.

"Spike,"  Angel said slowly, gravely,  "sit down like Buffy
told you."

"Or wot?  I can still hurt you, friend.  It's any *living*
thing I can't harm.  That doesn't include you."

Angel stared at him.  Spike stared back.

Sulking, Spike sat back down.

There was an uneasy silence.  Willow turned back quickly to
Giles' spell book.  Anya looked around the room from underneath
her eye lashes.  Xander shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.
Buffy and Angel exchanged irritated glances.  It was Wes who
broke the  stillness.

"Right, then.  I suggest we go over our plans again."

"I still don't see the point in planning-"  Spike started.

"Spike?"  Buffy spoke sweetly.  "If I were you, I wouldn't
mention the word 'point'.  It might give someone ideas."

Spike closed his mouth with clear ill humor.

The Scooby gang resumed making their plans, using what little
information they had to guess what spells what be most useful, 
how to exorcised the demons once they had possession of their
victims, how to destroy them if possible.

"My biggest concern,"  Giles said to Willow and Wesley as they
hovered over the book,  "is how to contain the demons *if* we
can even exorcise them."

"Buffy can't just slay them?"  Willow asked hopefully, her face
betraying the fact she already knew the answer.

Giles shook his head.  "The demons will ... they won't have
a corporeal form as you and I do.  I can't say I'm certain
of anything, but given what little we do know about these
demons, I believe our only chance of killing them is to
contain them, then destroy the vessels in which they are
held."

"And we still have no idea how to contain them?"  Buffy asked,
having walked over to hear what Giles had to say.

Giles shook his head.

"Giles,"  she said with urgency.  "If Cordelia is right, this
thing is going to possess Angel.  We *have* to do something."

"Buffy, we are working on it."

"Well...work faster,"  she demanded.

"Buffy,"  Willow said earnestly,  "Giles already found the spell
that will ... OK, it's like suspended animation for the demon."

"How long does it last?"

The three stared back down at the book.  "We don't know,"  Wesley
admitted at last.

"And we don't have a whole lot of time.  I'd rather not
go into this fight guessing."  Buffy added.

All three nodded at her.  Wes leaned against the wall, reading
from yet another old text.  Willow sighed and turned her attention
back to the book on the desk in front of her.  Giles also
continued reading from another tome.

Buffy looked over her shoulder, where Cordelia still sulked in
the entrance to the kitchen.  The brunette's face had lost
the well-known pout and Cordelia's face evinced deep concern.
Buffy followed the path the other girl's eyes traveled and found
they rested on Angel, who stood staring at Giles' empty fireplace.
As though she sensed Buffy's eyes on her, Cordy looked up and
traded a pained look with the Slayer.

Buffy looked down at the floor for a moment.  She was having
trouble figuring out Cordelia these days.  In some ways she
was the same girl, honest to the point of bluntness, far more
concerned about herself, herself, and herself, than anyone else.
Yet she had changed in subtle ways, showing obvious concern for
Angel and a fond irritation for Wesley.  Buffy looked back up,
wanting to think of something to say to her, but Cordelia's face
was contorted and her hands were pressed to her temples.

"Angel!"  Buffy called out.  "Wesley!"

Both men turned.  With the preternatural, catlike vampiric
grace, Angel was across the room, his arm around Cordy's waist,
holding her up as she sagged into his embrace.  Wes held her hands
and rubbed her wrists lightly.

"What do you see?"  Angel asked softly.

Cordelia shrieked and groaned.  "Arrrgh...ohhhhh....godddddd....
um...OK."  She breathed heavily.  

Willow without having been asked had gotten a glass of water and
the pain pills from Cordelia's purse.  She stood on the fringes
of the Los Angeles trio, waiting until Cordy had delivered
whatever message the Powers has sent.

Cordelia writhed in fresh pain as a second wave hit her.
Her body stiffened and pitched backwards.  Angel held on to
her more firmly, reaching up with one hand to stroke her hair
lightly.

"Oh...OK ...  what's an am'ru?"

"A what?"  Angel asked.

Wes looked at Angel, perplexed.  Had the Powers been even more
vague than usual?

"Cordelia, are you certain ...?"  Wes asked.

She nodded.  "Am'ru."  Then she spelled it.

"Oh, good Lord!"  Giles explained.

"Oooh,"  Anya exclaimed.  "It must be important.  That's what
he *always* says when it's important."

"Giles?"  Buffy asked.

Giles raised one finger, signaling everyone to be quiet, to
give him a moment.  He pulled a dusty book from one of the upper
shelves.  Pages turned quickly as Giles' excellent memory guided
his fingers to the right section.

"Oh,"  Wes breathed.  "Of course!"

"Hello?!?!? Psychic boys...care to clue in the rest of us?"
Buffy demanded.

"It's a legend ... or well, it's always been ...that is no one
thought it described an actual account,"  Giles sputtered out.

"At the risk of sounding like Buffy's echo, *what*?"  Xander
asked.

"In Africa, centuries ago, there was a story of a 'water
killer',"  Giles began.

"It's always been assumed the legend meant some - entity - that
poisoned the water,"  Wes added.

Buffy was nodding.  "But it could be our lovebirds?"

Both Brits nodded.

"So, does this legend give us any ideas how to kill these things?"
Willow asked.

"Actually, yes, it does,"  Giles responded gravely.

END PART 28

Vesparys (29/33)

MAYOR RICHARD M. WILKINS III PUBLIC LIBRARY
SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA
5:23 PM - MARCH 24

"Scully?"  Mulder asked softly, trying to catch his partner's
wandering attention.  "Reticula to Dana Scully."

She looked over at him, her eyes blank.  "What?  I'm sorry,"
she said sheepishly.  "I guess I was ... Reticula, Mulder?"

He grinned at her.  "Got you back, didn't it?"

She nodded.

"What were you thinking about?"  he asked.

She smiled softly.  "Angel, actually."

Mulder's face went blank, his eyes veiled by concern.  "You two
really hit if off, hmmm?"

Scully raised an eyebrow at him.  Then she shook her head, chuckling.
"Jealous?"  she teased.

Mulder shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, failing, in Scully's
eyes, miserably.  "Concerned,"  he replied a bit defensively.
"This wouldn't be the first time you were charmed by a bloodsucker."

Scully sputtered at his implication.  "What are you saying?"

Mulder didn't say a word, just pointed to his front teeth and grinned
wickedly at his partner.

"He did *not* have buck teeth,"  Scully hissed.  "And who says I
was charmed...by either one of them?"

Mulder gave her a look that clearly read "Oh, come on".

She looked back down at the table where volumes of Sunnydale
history lay open in front of them.  Without looking up at him,
she spoke, her voice soft, distant.  "Angel has some ...
interesting insights, that's all."

"Insights about?"

Scully raised her eyes.  "People,"  she responded flatly.

Mulder was about to press her on her meaning, when she gasped.
"What?"  he asked.

"What time is it?"  she exclaimed.

Mulder checked his watch, noticing Scully wasn't wearing hers.
"About 5:30.  Why? ... Wegman...your cross.  Scully, I'm sorry."

"Do you think...maybe...?"

"We can go over there and check.  We haven't found anything
this afternoon anyway.  Then we could go over to Giles'.
See if they've figured anything out we haven't."

Scully nodded.

Seeing them stand up the librarian made her way over to them.
She asked if they were done with the documents she'd brought
them, if they needed anything else.  Assuring her they were done
and were, in fact, leaving, they thanked her for her help.  She
declined their offer to help her replace the texts they had
perused, saying,  "Oh, no, it's quite all right.  I know exactly
where they go.  It's an honor to keep the library in the sort of
order that would have pleased our dear, late mayor."

Mulder looked at her, perplexed.  "I thought the Mayor...?"

"Oh, no!"  the librarian exclaimed, interrupting before Mulder
could finish his thought.  "Don't you believe whatever lies 
you might hear about Mayor Wilkins; he was a wonderful man."

Mulder nodded, giving her the smile he reserved for the people
he deemed loonier than he ever might be.  "Thanks again,"  he 
told her as he guided Scully out of the library.

Scully grinned at him once they were outside.  "What was that all
about?"

"The uh...Mayor wasn't exactly a great humanitarian."

"Oh?"

Mulder shook his head.  

"Why not?"  she asked.

"Well,"  he said,  "Mayor Wilkins - er - he turned into a giant
snake during the graduation last spring."

"Really?"  she asked, her eyebrow sky high.

"He tried to eat the student body,"  Mulder concluded.

Scully nodded.  "And?"

"And?"

"What happened?"

"Oh, Buffy stopped him."

"Buffy?  alone?"

"No, with ...well, pretty much everyone we've met."

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"I know I've asked you this before, but, is there anything you
don't believe?"

He laughed at her.

"Come on, Scully, you seemed to believe in a lot of this yourself
last night."

She looked over at him as they walked.  "Well,"  she paused.
"A giant snake?"

He nodded.

She shrugged.  She had seen a few things the night before that
had worked on her scientific mind, but reports of such 
bizarre happenings were still another matter.

"Damn,"  she muttered as they reached Wegman's Jewelers.  The shop
was dark and shuttered, the door locked.

Mulder peered in the window.  He took a chance and knocked, but
no one responded.  Scully peered in the other window
and saw no one either.

"Worried?"  Mulder teased her gently.

She looked at him.  "Of course not,"  she insisted.

Mulder was about to offer her the cross Cordelia had given him
last night, which he had not yet returned, when Scully motioned
down the street.

"Xander, right?"  Mulder called out.

Xander and Anya stopped as they reached the agents.  Anya
clung to Xander's arm, while batting her eyelashes at Mulder.
"Agents,"  Xander said, inclining his head and smiling at them.

"We were uh - we were just on our way to Giles',"  Mulder
told them.

"Really?"  Anya asked with a flirtatious smile.  Though she did
find the male agent attractive she didn't really have any
sincere interest in him.  Rather, she enjoyed Xander's varied
reactions to her occasional flirtations.  "We're on our way
back right now.  We had to go and get-"

"Tea.  Giles was completely out and he gets really cranky without
his Earl Grey,"  Xander interrupted her.

Anya's face grew cross and she began to argue.

"Ahn,"  Xander insisted, staring sharply at her,  "I *said* Giles
was out of tea."

Anya glared at him, but caught his meaning before she said
anything else.  Meekly she added,  "Yes, that's right.  Giles
is really awful without his tea."

Mulder and Scully exchanged amused glances.

"Want a ride back with us?"  Mulder offered.

Reluctantly, Xander and Anya agreed.  As Xander held the rear passenger
door for his girlfriend he motioned her to say nothing.  She screwed
her face up at him, wanting to argue.  He made an emphatic nixing
motion with his hand and she nodded, sulkily.  

Starting the car, Mulder also made an attempt at starting 
conversation.  "So, did your research last night turn up anything
useful?"

"Research?"  Xander asked, choking a bit.

"Yeah,"  Mulder said slowly.  "Buffy said the rest of you would 
be doing research while we - uh - patrolled."

"Ohhh,"  Xander replied, nodding.  "Right.  Research.  Well, 
actually,"  he laughed uncomfortably,  "Giles, Wesley, and
Willow are really the ones who do best with that book-learning
stuff."

"Xander!"  Anya protested.

"No,"  he insisted, glaring at the ex-demon, watching her settle
back into a stony silence.  "I, that is, we, Anya and I, we
provide a ... different service."

"And that would be?"  Scully asked.

Smiling nervously at her, his voice taking on the self-deprecating
tone his friends knew so well, he said,  "Food."

"Food?"  Mulder queried.

"Food,"  Xander restated.  "Donuts, pizza, you know, the stuff
that keeps those super brains running."

Mulder and Scully nodded.  After a brief silence, Mulder tried
again.  "So, did their research turn up anything?"

"Gosh, I'm not entirely certain,"  Xander said.  He decided to
supply a small amount of the truth.  "I think Giles said
something about a spell that might help."

Xander looked out the window, seeing they were nearly to Giles'.
He told Mulder,  "You want to park here."

"Hmm?"  Mulder responded.

"Park.  Here,"  Xander repeated.

"Here?"

"Yeah,"  Xander replied.  He looked over at Anya, who seemed 
equally confused.

Xander was about to say something when Scully addressed her
partner.  "Mulder?  Don't you recognize it?"

Mulder looked at her as he eased the car alongside the curb.
He sounded a little dazed as he replied,  "Yeah.  I guess I was
just ... distracted."  He shook his head, trying to clear away
the sudden profusion of mental cobwebs.

In the backseat, Anya tapped Xander excitedly.  She mouthed
"Willow's spell is working."  Xander nodded knowingly.

As the four of them entered Giles', a scene of determined grimness
greeted them.  An impressive supply of weaponry was piled in one 
corner of the room.  Buffy was arguing quietly with Angel as the
two of them loomed over the collection of stakes, crossbows,
holy water, and what appeared to be a sword or two.

"The point is that *everyone* survives this, remember?"  Buffy
whispered urgently.

"Yeah,"  Angel agreed,  "but if the spells don't work, then
the hosts have to be killed before the spawning takes place."

Buffy gazed up at him, her eyes angry, frightened, weary, and
above all, woeful.  "I killed you once.  I can't do it again,"
she told him.

He gave her a slow, sad smile.  "Then make sure Cordelia's armed."

Buffy glared at him, but couldn't help choking back a smile and
giggle.  "In that case, let me get a spatula."

"What?"  he asked, incredulous.

She grinned at him and made a dismissive gesture with her hand.
"Long story.  Homecoming?"

"Oh, right,"  he agreed.    They looked at each other for a long
moment.  "Buffy..." he said softly.

"Later,"  she replied, her voice equally soft.  "When this is
over."

"Yeah, but if-"

She shook her head.  "We've never lost a battle like this one.
We're not gonna start now."

Giles came downstairs, seeing Xander and Anya.  "Thank the Lord, I
was beginning to worry you two weren't able-"

"No worries, G-man,"  Xander said brightly.  "We've got your tea
right here."  He held up the bag he carried and pointed.

Giles' faced clouded over.  "Xander, I've asked you before
not to use that ridiculous name... My...?"  He caught sight
of Mulder and Scully standing behind the two teens.  "Yes, thank
you."

Anya broke in.  "We know how cranky you get without it."

Giles nodded. "Definitely.  Yes.  Cranky."

Giles crossed the room and shook the hands of both agents in
greeting.  Quite loudly, he announced their arrival.

Mulder reflected on how oddly the denizens of Sunnydale were acting
and was beginning to concur with Scully's assertion that these
people might be delusional after all.  Trying to sound interested,
he explained why they'd stopped by.  "We wondered if you had
uncovered anything."

"Why don't we let Wesley fill the agents in?"  Xander suggested.
"I know how much Giles would like his tea,  *now*."

Wesley and Giles exchanged looks and subtle nods.  Motioning for
the agents to join him at the coffee table where some books still
lay open, Wesley sat down while Giles, Xander, and Anya went into 
the kitchen.

"Why on earth did you bring them here?"  Giles demanded in an angry
whisper.

"We didn't have much of a choice,"  Xander defended.  "We ran into
them downtown."

"What were they doing downtown?"  Giles asked.

"How should we know?"

"You didn't think to ask?"

"We were sort of trying to avoid their questions about the 'research'
we were all doing last night!"  Xander exclaimed quietly.

"Oh,"  the Watcher conceded.  "But you brought them back here?"

"They were on their way here already,"  Anya supplied.

"I figured at least this way we got here the same time they did."

Giles rubbed his forehead.  "All right...so now we have to figure
out how to get rid of them."

"Oh, that will be easy,"  Anya informed him.

Giles looked at her.

"Willow's spell is working."

Giles looked to Xander for confirmation.  Xander smiled and nodded.

"How do you know?"

"Xander had to tell Agent Mulder where to park when we got here,"
Anya said in a gleeful whisper.

"Yeah, it was weird.  It was like he didn't even recognize this
place,"  Xander added.

"Like who didn't recognize Giles'?"  Willow asked from behind them.

"Agent Mulder,"  Anya told her in the same gleeful whisper.

"My spell?"

"Is working like a charm, Wil,"  Xander assured her.

Willow smiled broadly and clapped silently.

From the living room came the sound of Wesley, prattling on,
using big, supernatural terms in an attempt to sound more
knowledgeable.  It was hardly that he didn't know what he
was doing.  Far more it was that he didn't know what he was
doing just *then*, nor why.  He was desperately trying to make
the 'information' sound believable without giving away what 
the Scooby gang did indeed know.

Spike interrupted the varying conversations that swirled around
the flat.  His gaze was focused on the darkening skies he could
see from the window.  "I should think, 'gang',"  he said loudly
and with biting sarcasm,  "that we should consider moving this
party, if you know wot I mean."

All eyes followed the path of Spike's gaze.  The sun was almost
nearly all the way down; in just a few moments it would sink
completely below the western horizon permitting Angel and Spike
free movement throughout Sunnydale.  It would mark in Oz, 
wherever he may be, the transformation from man to wolf and put
in jeopardy any he might come across.

"Right,"  Giles agreed tersely.

"You know where we need to go, then?"  Mulder asked.

"We believe so, yes,"  Giles replied.  "You can follow us."

Mulder nodded, his enthusiasm for the antics of this group
returning.  Scully sighed, wondering what tonight would bring,
preparing equally for an assault to her good sense or 
the possibility of unforeseen revelations.

Scully was halfway across the courtyard when she heard Mulder
ask Willow,  "And where are we following you to exactly?"

Mulder was puzzled by Willow's expression as though he'd cornered
her in some way.  She glanced quickly at Giles who was the last
one out the door.  He nodded almost imperceptibly at her.
Brightly, she responded,  "The high school."

Mulder nodded, uncertain where that might be.  He jogged to catch
up with Scully, so they could check the map quickly.  Mulder
was feeling as though, for some reason he couldn't quite
fathom, no one would be too willing to tell him how to get
there.  And given that niggling feeling, he didn't want to rely
solely on following people who suddenly seemed quite evasive.

Scully had heard only part of Willow's reply as she had gotten
into the car to wait for Agent Eager.  She was already getting out
the map when Mulder opened his door and slid into the driver's
seat.  She looked up to see three cars pulling away from the curb.

"You checking the route?"  Mulder asked.

She nodded.  "I didn't quite hear what Willow said, though,"  she
told him.

Mulder gave her the name he'd heard Willow say.

She looked at him, confused.  "Are you sure?"  she asked.

He stared at her.  He suddenly felt as though he walked in a
thick forest, unable to determine his direction, the moon
obscured by heavy, imposing clouds.  He nodded uncertainly.
"Why?"

"I thought I heard her say something about a school,"  Scully told
him.

"I was right there,"  he protested.  "I heard ..." he paused.

"What?  Mulder, what is it?""  Scully was growing worried.

He shut his eyes, hearing Willow's voice again, certain she had
said 'Short Canyon', but as though from *underneath* her words,
he heard ... he wasn't sure what, but not what she'd said.

"Mulder?"  Scully's voice was sharp, concerned.

He opened his eyes and looked at her.  "It's like - like she said
on thing, but I heard another.  Kinda the same as ..."  he smiled 
nervously and continued,  "those bad subtitles in the old Japanese 
movies."

She smiled weakly at him.

"Damn it!"  he exclaimed, realizing they'd now lost any chance of
following the others.  "They did something...somehow..."

"How, Mulder?"  Scully asked.  "In addition to that super strength
and agility Buffy has, does she have magic powers to ... I
don't know, confuse you?"

He shook his head.  "But Willow studies wicca."

"But you were never alone with Willow.  Wouldn't  she have to put
some,"  Scully hesitated,  "'hex' on you or something?"

Mulder's eyes widened.  "Or something I own!"

"You gave her something of yours?"

He shook his head.  "But while we were patrolling, during the chase
with the first vampire, I lost my phone.  Buffy was *so* certain
we'd find it."  Mulder slammed his palms against the steering wheel."
He paused.  "But why just me?"

Scully was shaking her head.  "Not just you...  Angel ... he did
that thing with my cross.  It - threw me and I backed away from him."

"That's when the chain broke?"

She nodded.  "But Angel held kept the cross for me - oh! - in his
pocket."

"What?"

She glared at Mulder, not angry with him, marveling instead at how
thoroughly they'd both been played by amateurs in the stealth game.
She shook her head back and forth slowly.  "When we were attacked,
he was - a step or two behind me.  I didn't even think about
it at the time..."

"He was leaving your cross."

They looked at each other.  Mulder said,  "Somehow I don't think
Willow was doing a lot of research last night after all."
Scully looked out the passenger side window, wondering what
their next step should be.

"Mulder?"  she said softly, a smile creeping across her face.
"*I* heard Willow correctly."

"How can you be sure?"  Mulder asked.  Before she could answer,
the same smile spread across his face.  "Your cross is locked up
at Wegman's Jewelry store."

They smiled at one another.

"Where did she say they were going?"  Mulder asked.

"I think I heard her say something about a school?"

"Which one?"

Scully shrugged.  "I'm not exactly sure, but a good guess would
be-"

"The old high school,"  he interrupted.  "Buffy told me about some
of the stuff that went on there.  'Spooky' place, by her 
account."

Scully consulted the map.  "OK, *this* should be pretty easy..."

END PART 29

Vesparys (30/33)

SUNNYDALE HIGH (ABANDONED, BURNED OUT)
SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA
8:45 PM - MARCH 24

Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Spike had been back to the school since
graduation day.  Very recently, actually, as yet another group of
demons had attempted to open the Hell Mouth.  Buffy, with Riley's
help, had stopped them and saved the world *again*.

Although no one who'd been at the final Sunnydale High Razorback
graduation could have doubted the damage done, it still came as
a shock, almost a physical blow to those who saw it for the
first time.

Cordelia gazed around in saddened surprise.  Evidence of the 
snake-mayor's passage through the halls as he'd chased Buffy to
the library was unmistakable.  Lockers, torn from their moorings,
flattened, then charred by the explosion and fire, littered the
floor.  She barely noticed Wes' hand on her arm, guiding her
through the debris.  Bits of glass lay everywhere, testimony
to the shattered windows.  Doors hung from hinges or leaned
crazily against the walls they had once segregated.

"Awful, isn't it?"  Willow asked her quietly, as they picked
their way along what was once the main hall.

Cordelia nodded.

"I mean, this wasn't exactly my favorite place in the world, but..."

Cordelia stopped.  Her face were pensive and melancholy.  "I know
it's *really* shallow-"

"Cordelia Chase, shallow?  Don't believe it, folks!"  Xander 
interrupted her.

"Xander,"  Willow scolded, seeing Cordy was in genuine pain.

Cordy glared at her ex-boyfriend.  " - but this place... there are
so many memories here.  There,"  she pointed,  "that's where Grant
Dellums asked me out and I turned him down.  And that..."
she gestured again,  "that's where Ambrosia once fell on her
face in front of-"

"Yep.  The more things change..."  Xander said.

"OK, OK, would you rather we went over *your* memories, Xander?
That's where Bailey Reese dumped apple juice on you freshman
year...that's where Buffy turned you down for a prom date."

"It is not!"  Buffy protested.

"Right,"  Xander agreed.

"It was in the courtyard,"  Buffy added.  "Xander wouldn't have
dared ask me out under artificial light."

"Hello?"  Giles said, irritation evident in his tone and the
expression in his eyes.  "As thrilling as this stroll down
memory lane is, I think there are some more ... pressing
matters to deal with."

The teens all apologized sullenly, knowing Giles was right.

Though no more comments were made, each member of the little 
band of intrepid monster-fighters was lost in his own reflections
of the things that had occurred in this building.

Cordelia had given voice only to the moments which confirmed
everyone's view of her as a shallow popularity seeker.  The
truth was she saw more things than she let on, felt them as
deeply as the others.  Her locker was where she'd once hidden
as she took off the pendant Xander had given her two Valentine's
Days past; it was where she'd kept pictures of the two of
them.  It had been raided during the 'witch hunt' led by
Buffy's deluded mom and her expensive hair spray confiscated.
She was surprised to find the pang that might once have
caused her was now very minor.  These walls had seen her greatest
triumphs on what may well be the smallest stage possible.
She realized part of her had looked forward to coming back here
someday, to showing everyone how very well she'd done -
handsome, wealthy husband, perfect children, fast, luxurious car,
clothes straight from Paris, shoes from Italy.  Now she was back
and more proud of what she actually did have to show off than she
ever could have been of those other things.  

Angel, walking next to her, caught her eye and smiled.  She smiled
back at him.  She and Angel still scraped against one another
often.  They always would.  And she hadn't ruled out the rich,
handsome husband, nor the children and the car, but Angel knew,
better than anyone, that she had found a higher purpose in her
life than getting the latest Prada handbag.

For Wesley the burned out walls reminded him starkly of his utter and
complete failure as a Watcher.  Faith had become a dangerous rogue.
An accidental death, an overbearing, foolish Council-sanctioned
tactic had driven her from the light to live in the shadows.
Buffy had quit the Council, turning her back on their demands and
guidance.  He had been, truth be told, woefully unprepared for life 
on a Hell Mouth and rather than rely upon Giles, who might
have helped him, he'd been arrogant, stuffy, and thoroughly
out of touch.  Yet, this group of people had never completely
turned against him.  In the final moments, they had accepted his
offer of help, had made use of him, no matter how badly he
bungled his part in their plans.  They'd shown more faith in him
than the feckless Council and, now, were even willing to treat him
as one of their own.

Angel had seen destruction, ruins, architectural chaos in his
unnatural lifetime.  Never had they affected him as this place
did.  In this place so much had happened, so much with Buffy,
with her friends, much he gladly remembered, much he would
erase from his memory were it possible.  He'd chased Jenny
Callendar along these halls, listening to the rapid pace of
her steps, hearing her panicked breathing.  He shuddered at the
memory of her throat in his hands, the rush of  blood in
her veins, the sound her pretty white neck had made as he'd 
snapped it, ending her life, disdaining even to feed on her.

Once, in these halls he and Buffy had met, not themselves, but
joined in some mystical way to a pair of lovers who'd 
died, a murder-suicide, in 1955.  The demon Angelus had held 
sway over him then, but he'd been unable to resist, telling
himself he went to her then only to torment her.  Yet he had come to
the school as she had, pulled there a spirit who begged
forgiveness and another who offered absolution for a crime 
committed and forgiven more than forty years before.  Buffy, unable
to forgive herself, taking the blame for all that had happened
between them, to Jenny herself, had been ripe for possession by
the spirit of the young killer.  Angelus, denying any portion of
Angel still existed within him, had been inhabited by the spirit
of the victim.  Together, they'd fought, acted again the parts
assigned to them, and found some measure of peace.  He'd
held Buffy, danced with her, kissed her deeply and with a
pleasure as pure as anything he'd ever felt.  In the end,
as history melted away, leaving them only themselves again,
they'd resumed their roles as bitter enemies.  

He sighed.  They reached what had once been the library.  Moving
cautiously, the group walked into the library.

"Giles,"  Buffy breathed.

Giles looked up.  Buffy pointed.  Everyone followed the
direction of her fingers.  

Cordelia made a sound of disgust as she turned quickly away
from the sight of two bodies.  Willow gasped and also
turned.  

Angel and Buffy stepped toward the mutilated corpses.

"Be careful!"  Giles admonished.

They looked up at him.

"Well,"  he said,  "I *have* to say that.  It was in the 
Watcher's handbook."

"Yeah, right next to the part about befriending us
bloodsucking creatures of darkness, no doubt,"  Spike said.
He looked around, waiting for someone, anyone to respond
to his jest.  "Wot?  No one gonna tell me to shut up?  no
threats of blemishing my lily white chest with a pointed 
wooden object?  Oh, come on!"

Anya looked at him with the same sort of gaze a lizard fixes
on ... anything.  Her voice was flat, her tone perfunctory.
"Spike, shut up."  She turned to Xander.  "Was that good?"

Xander nodded distantly, his eyes were drawn unwillingly to
the sight of the bodies and of Buffy and Angel gingerly
examining them.

"Xander,"  she whined.

"Anya, not now!"  he snapped.

She shrunk from him until he reached an arm out and placed it
around her shoulders, pulling her to him wordlessly.  She went
with reluctance, not fully understanding still this mortal 
horror of death.

"Ground zero,"  Buffy whispered.  "They're here somewhere."

With great care, Buffy and Angel moved the bodies to a corner 
of the library.

Solemnly, Wes said, "We should get started."

"And for heaven's sake, everyone do look out for anything that
resembles a puddle of water," Giles admonished.

Giles, with Wesley's participation, drew the pentagram that
would draw the spawn-crazed demons, would, if the first spell
worked, focus the energy that would bind the demons in time,
suspend their force for a few precious moments.  Cordelia,
under Willow's guidance, placed the copper am'rus where Giles
had indicated during their planning.

"Do you think these will work?"  Cordy asked Wil nervously.

Willow looked at the planters they'd pressed into service as
make-shift mystical, demon containers.  The description in the
legend Giles had found had been reasonably detailed, but there
had been no time to fulfill all the given requirements.

"I highly doubt the magic shop would stock ancient African
am'rus which have exactly one use,"  Giles had said glumly.

"You never know,"  Willow had inserted hopefully.  "They did used
to carry the Orbs of Thessala as 'new age paperweights'."

Several sets of eyes had reproached her silently.

"What?"  she had demanded.  "They *did*."

"Yeah,"  Spike had supported her.  "And all these things sound
like are bloody big pots, if you ask me."

"Spike, they are hardly 'big pots', as you so-"  Wesley had
admonished, his voice breaking off when Buffy had turned 
suddenly and rushed out the front door.

"Buffy?"  Giles had called after her.

The only sound they'd heard in response was the scrape of metal
on concrete, a muffled huffing sound, and then the hollow bang
of a large container as it bumped into the outer wall.

"Oh good Lord!"  Giles exclaimed.  "Not my ficus...Buffy, that's
the first plant I've been able to keep alive in ages."

Buffy had stood in the doorway, nudging a large, copper planter
with her toe.  "Giles, it's copper, it's round, it's
'mouth be more narrow than its base'.  It'll do, right?"
Giles had regarded her balefully.  "Best of all, you've got one
more out there."

Giles had groaned and muttered something about his long suffering
horticultural projects.  "All right, yes, yes, the planters should
just about do."

"We are going to need some different herbs, the tongue of a
young lemur - oooh, yuck! - and the sap of a ripe thornbush,"
Willow had reminded Giles.

"Sounds like Ahn and I are magic store bound,"  Xander had
said.

Giles had looked up.  "Yes?  You don't mind?"

Xander had shrugged.  "These ingredients vital to the cause?"

"Extremely,"  Giles had told him.

"Then write us up a list and we are outta here,"  Xander had insisted.

When Xander and Anya had gone (only to return later with the two
FBI agents in tow), Giles had drawn Willow and Wes aside.

"I must tell you both, I'm not certain this will be successful,"
he had said to them.

"Giles, we don't have much of a choice, do we?"  Willow had asked.

"I fear Willow is correct,"  Wesley had concurred.   "We have to
assume it is the herbal and um...er ... animal products which
are the key to the spell's efficacy."

Giles had nodded.  "I just wanted to make certain we were all
prepared for the worst."

"When aren't we?"  Willow had responded, her voice a cross between
grim irritation and sarcastic gibe.

Now she and Cordy set the am'rus in the places Giles and Wesley
had deemed best.  Willow was loathe to answer the brunette's
question.

"Willow?"  Cordelia repeated,  "Do you think they'll work?"

"I don't know, Cordelia,"  Willow admitted.  "I hope so."

Cordy had stood back and surveyed the on-going work.  Giles and
Wes were nearly finish.  The am'rus were in place.  Her face
grew puzzled.  "I *still* don't get why we didn't just put these
babies in the circle."

Willow sighed.  They'd explained this once, but she went over
it again.  Quickly.  "From what they've read, Giles and Wesley
believe the demons, in possession of a human, are repelled by
copper, so placing the am'rus *in* the pentagram would drive the
hosts away.  But, when exorcised they'll be defenseless, desperately
seeking safety and then, they'll be drawn to the copper."

"So why don't we just try to get them into the plan- am'rus
to begin with?"

Willow shrugged.  "We can try, but, if your visions are accurate,
the possessions *will* take place."

Cordy was silent again.  The am'rus lay on their sides, their mouths
just touching on the edges of the pentagram at the points
where the star's upper angles intersected the circle.  Cordy
shook her head.

"What?"  Willow asked.

"I'm just wondering ... the possession isn't going to be 
pretty, but the exorcism...," her voice trailed off and she
shuddered.

"Is going to make that possession look like it could win a
beauty pageant," Willow finished for her.

"Again, as I've said so many times over the last four years,
*yuck*."

Xander stood back and watched the girls work.  He followed the
progress made by Wes and Giles.  His eyes found Buffy, standing
protectively close to Angel.  Xander loved Buffy, as he had
for nearly as long as he'd known her, but the time that passed
had smoothed over the jagged edges of that emotion.  He would
never like Angel.  At times it felt like he was the only one
who remembered well the pain Angel's other self had put them
all through.  Still, Xander had come to accept that Buffy would
always love Angel with a passion she couldn't feel for anyone
else.  He knew he had a part of her Angel could never have -
deep, trusting, secure friendship and loyalty untainted by
a past full of razorlike memories.

He felt Anya squeeze his arm and he looked down at her and
smiled.  She was annoying, contrary, and abrasive.  She was
also devoted, in her way, to him.

"What're you thinking?"  she asked him.

He shook his head, looking around the charred library.  He
gazed at what remained of the stairs that had led to the upper 
level, where the stacks had once contained all manner of
volumes, both arcane and mundane.  He'd stood there and
listened to Buffy lament her Slayerness with Giles, had
broken an arm defending his friends against Drusilla's
onslaught, had furtively kissed Willow while supposedly
researching information for Giles.  In this room he'd
been part of something far bigger than himself.

" 'I say we attack the mayor with hummus',"  he finally replied.

"What?"  she asked.

He grinned again.  "Something Oz said before the final confrontation
with His Honor the Big Killer Reptile."

"Hummus?  But why - that would have been futile and would have
resulted only in your own deaths."

"Yes, Ahn," he said,  "Oz was joking."

Anya considered this for a moment.  "It's not funny."

Xander nodded with little surprise.  

Buffy couldn't help but overhear their conversation.  She
smiled to herself.  Angel was looking at the broken
floor, grinning as well.

"She's um ...,"  Angel started.

Buffy nodded.  "Yes, she is,"  she agreed with that same
smile.

"How ... did they?"

"I don't know and I *really* don't want to,"  she told him.

"I can respect that,"  Angel deadpanned.

They watched one another in silence for a few moments.  "Hummus?"
Angel asked.

Buffy shrugged.  "Oz was right.  His plan was brilliant."

Angel raised his eyebrows at her.

"No one would have seen it coming,"  she explained.

Angel chuckled.  Without thinking, he brushed a strand of hair
from her face.  "I miss you,"  he told her impulsively.

Her eyes welled with tears.  She caught his hand as it fell
back to his side.  Angel nearly flinched as her hand brushed his,
falling back to that irreplaceable, inescapable moment when
human passion had swept them away and they'd been happy
for a brief day.

Giles and Wesley stood up, both cracking their backs in an
unintentional simultaneous gesture.  "We are prepared,"  Wes
announced.

Willow?"  Giles asked,  "The am'rus are ...?"

Willow nodded.  "Set and ready to go,"  she confirmed.

"Weapons, Buffy?"  the Watcher checked.

She nodded, still holding Angel's hand.

Giles was about to speak again when chaos exploded into their
reality.  A large, snarling animal that every Sunnydale denizen
recognized instantly as a werewolf burst through the ruined
outer wall of the library.  

It was Anya who screamed first and hers was not a scream of
terror, but warning.

The werewolf raised its head and looked straight at Anya.  Xander
stepped in front of her protectively.  In that same instant
Xander saw what the girl behind him had seen.

"Stop!"  he yelled out.  His warning went unheeded as the beast's
back paw sunk into a puddle of water.  

The world slowed down as perceptions sharpened, lengthened.  All
eyes watched as the wolf stared down at his foot.  Snorting, he
picked up the drenched appendage and shook it.  Instinctively,
the humans, Angel, and Spike all shrunk back even further.
No droplets were flung out however.  The werewolf's head snapped
up.  His face was perplexed.  The others exchanged confused
looks, mouthed inchoate questions.

"Oh... my ... God,"  Cordelia whispered as the puddle of water
slowly vanished, pulled up into the beast's paw.

The werewolf raised his snout and howled.  His body stiffened
as the demon flowed through his blood.

Willow screamed.  "Oz!"  Her voice was piercing, anguished.
She began to run toward him.

"Wil!"  Buffy yelled.  

Wesley was closest to Willow and grabbed her, pulling her to him, 
folding her into his arms, barely avoiding her flailing fists.
"Willow, no,"  he spoke as calmly as he was able.  "He will kill
you."

She gazed up at him, hardly seeing him.  Already crying she
sobbed out her words.  "But it's --- it's Oz.  It's...  I
have to go to him, to..."

"To what?"  the Englishman asked gently.  "It's *not* Oz."

"But ... it *is*"  she wailed.

Buffy had come to her friend's side and took her from Wesley's
familial embrace.  "Wil?"  Buffy said, her voice full of
frightened tears.  "That isn't Oz.  It's a demon."

Wil shook her head convulsively.

"It is,"  Buffy iterated.  "And the best way you can help him
is to do the spell Giles found.  Right?"

Willow's uncontrolled sobs and wild breathing started to 
calm slightly.  She looked into Buffy's eyes, gentle and
concerned.

"You ... knew?"  the redhead asked.

Giles approached the girls.  "We had our suspicions."

Willow turned on Cordelia.  "You saw this!  This is what you saw,
isn't it?"

Cordy nodded sadly.

"And you all thought I didn't need to know?"  Willow demanded
tearfully.

With a sigh, Spike added his opinion.  "I told you she'd figger
it out once she saw Shaggy over there."

"Spike knew?"  Willow shrieked.

Angel walked over to the group and placed on hand on Willow's
shoulder.  "Willow?  We didn't tell you because we wanted you
to focus.  No one meant to hurt you,"  he assured her.

"Wil?"  Buffy added.  "We do need you to focus, OK?  It's the
only way to help Oz."

Willow regarded the faces around her.  She bit her lip and
finally nodded.

"Whoa!"

Everyone kept Oz in their peripheral vision but turned to see
Agents  Mulder and Scully standing in what used to be the
entrance to the library.

"This would be a werewolf,"  Mulder exclaimed.  "This town has
*everything*!"

"Mulder,"  Scully scolded.  

"Well ... ,"  he insisted petulantly.

"Is it - ?"  Scully started.

"Oh, great,"  Willow cried indignantly,  "*She* knew too?"
She turned her gaze to Xander and Anya.  "How about you two?"

"Nope, no, nothing,"  Xander answered quickly.

Anya shrugged.

The agents began to cross the library.  Scully stopped suddenly.
She looked down at her foot, having eerie flashbacks to steeping
in acidic green *goo*.  She sighed in relief when she saw it was
only a puddle of water.

"Scully?"  Mulder asked when he'd noticed she had stopped.

"It's noth-"  she started to say, then understanding illuminated
her face.  "Mulder?"  Her voice was suddenly weak, frightened.

"Oh, no," Giles breathed softly.  "Willow, we must start the binding
spell immediately."

"I - but -,"  Wil stammered.

"*Now*!"  Giles shouted.  "She isn't like Oz; this will kill her
far faster."

Buffy looked up at Angel.  She released his hand.  But it was
Cordelia who sighed his name.

"I c - c - can't,"  Angel stammered.

"Angel,"  Buffy said softly,  "it's the only way."

"You can't ask me to do ...,"  his voice trailed off.

"You have to,"  Wesley insisted.  Angel and Wes stared at one
another.  "You can fight this, far better than she can."

Mulder broke in angrily.  "What are you talking about?"
At his side, Scully sagged slightly, shivering as the demon
flowed through her blood already..  "You can't."

Scully touched Mulder's arm gently.  She looked at Angel.
She nodded at him.

He shook his head.

Scully nodded again, slowly as a frisson of cold wracked her
body.  "Please," she asked him softly.

Angel looked down at Buffy.  He leaned down and kissed her.

When he looked back up, his face was transformed.  He strode 
toward the possessed agent, pulled her from the protective
embrace of her partner, and swept aside her hair.

"Stop!"  Mulder screamed.  "He can't..."

Xander laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.  "She'll die
if he doesn't."

Mulder looked on in horror as Angel's gleaming fangs sunk into
the soft flesh of Scully's neck.  He trembled with the sound
of her soft moaning, unable to imagine what she might be 
feeling.  He pushed against Xander's arm as blood began to
trickle down her neck and the sound of Angel's deep gulps
reached his ears.

"Scully... no...no...," he whimpered.  "No."

END PART 30

Vesparys (31/33)

SUNNYDALE HIGH (ABANDONED, BURNED OUT)
SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA
9:28 PM - MARCH 24

As Angel, his transformed face pressed against Scully's
exposed neck, drank deeply, Mulder lunged against the
restraining arm Xander had laid across his chest.  Xander
stood his ground, but wobbled with Mulder's pushing.
Spike reached in and gripped Mulder's shoulder as well.
Mulder looked down at Spike's pale hand.  The agent looked
back to the vampire's face and glared furiously.

Softly, Spike said,  "Don't worry, mate, our Angel won't
take it all.  Iss  not in 'im."

Only Xander and Anya were close enough to hear 'The Big
Bad' offer his words of comfort.  They traded surprised
looks that the demon had that much compassion in him.  They
both gave Spike the disbelieving look.

"Wot?"  he demanded petulantly.  "Even though she left me for
that chaos demon, I'd still wanna kill any creature who hurt
my Dru."  Then Spike shrugged and added, "Besides, if he does
anything to harm Angel, the Slayer'd find some way to blame
me and I don't fancy that."

Xander and Anya nodded knowingly at the last part of the
explanation.

Mulder continued to stare and struggle futilely against the
hold Spike and Xander had on him.  His voice was sharp,
anguished, raw, as he shouted,  "He'll make her ... she'll
be one of ..."  He stopped, breaking down, unable to
complete his thought.

Buffy looked over at the little tableau just inside the doorway.
She raised her eyebrows at Xander.  Xander nodded silently,
showing he understood her intention.

"She won't be,"  Xander reassured Mulder.

"But ... he's -"

"Yes,"  Xander said calmly, interrupting the agent before he
could fully express himself, not wanting the picture his words
would form to haunt him any more than this experience itself
would.  "But it takes more than being fed on to make someone
a vamp."  His words depersonalized what was happening.

Mulder looked at him.  "You're sure?"

Xander smiled, his smile self deprecating as usual.  "Yeah,
I'm sure."

Mulder continued to gaze on in horror, but his face was slack,
the furious tension replaced by a defeated concern.  After a 
moment he said,  "This is what -"  he paused, gulping a breath
and swallowing tightly.  "Buffy let him do this to her, didn't
she?"

Xander nodded slowly, his face creasing in pained memories.
"To save his life.  Yes, she did."

Everyone was silent, holding a collective breath as Angel drank.
Scully's blood coursed through her veins, rushing to fill the
hemorrhage occasioned by Angel's fangs.  Angel gulped noisily,
uncontrollably.  The demon in him groaned in delight, the man
in him muted by the primal instincts.  Scully moaned in pain
from time to time, seemed to try to pull herself away from the
burning sensation of her own blood flowing out of her.  Angel's
hands held her fast, forced her into excruciating immobility.

In a jarring, matter-of-fact, and, in the unnatural silence of the
library, loud voice, Anya observed,  "And how exactly will
this help Agent Scully?"

Even Spike glared at her in annoyance and irritation.

"What?"  she asked.

"Ahn,  shut up,"  Xander told her.

The door had been opened though and Mulder's panic began to
rise again.  He renewed his struggle against Xander and
Spike.

Seeing his fear manifest itself again,  Giles spoke from his
place across the room.  Out of one eye he watched the werewolf
who, confused by the goings-on around him, paced nervously
but maintained a discrete distance from the humans.  "The
Vesparys demons infect the blood of the hosts. The demon
'burns' through the host, destroying the body from the 
inside out.  Angel is, we hope, taking the demon into his
own blood.  He is stronger than she is, can last longer."

"We hope,"  Cordelia added bleakly.

Any further commentary was abruptly ended.  Angel screamed out
in pain.  His mouth ripped free of Scully's neck and he thrust
her from him.  She crumpled to the floor.  Angel stiffened,
shivered, whispered Buffy's name.

From the complete stillness of seconds before, the library
erupted into activity.  Mulder, no longer restrained by
Xander and Spike, rushed to Scully.  He gathered her into his
arms, cradling her gently, murmuring her name repeatedly.
His fingers grazed the gaping wound on her neck from which blood
still trickled.  Buffy went to Angel, put an arm around him and
told him to learn on her.  She began walking him to the pentagram
Giles and Wesley had drawn.

Though occupied with the spells to be performed, Giles looked
over at the two agents.  "Anya!"  he called out.  "Take the
agents to the hospital."  She didn't move.  "Now!"

"But why me?"  she whined, grasping Xander's arm once more.

Giles glared furiously at her.

"*He* has a car,"  she complained.  "He can tell them-"

"Tell them what, Anya?  That she was fed on by a vampire?"
Giles exploded.

"Ahn,"  Xander spoke softly to her.  "He can't possibly find
the hospital alone in this condition."  Xander was nodding
slowly at her.  Her head bobbed with his.  "He needs someone
who knows about ... things."

"Well, why can't Spike go?  or you?  It's not like they really
need you,"  she said hopefully.

Xander grimaced.  "Thanks for the vote of confidence,"  he said
sarcastically.

"I just meant-"

"I know what you meant,"  he assured her.  "Ahn, please?"

Finally, she nodded.

"Anya will stay with you,"  Xander assured Mulder, who scooped
Scully up.  She had lost consciousness temporarily.  "She
knows what to tell them so they won't ask too many questions."

Mulder adjusted Scully, alarmed when she moaned softly in her
stupor.

"It will be fine,"  Xander promised him.

Scully stirred in Mulder's arms, her head lolling back, her
clouded eyes seeking Angel.  "Will ... he ...,"  she said
softly, slowly, feebly, her voice thick with pain, her brain
fighting for unconsciousness.  "He has to-"

"Scully,"  Mulder interrupted her.  He spoke lowly, in
an emotional pain nearly the equivalent of her physical
agony.  "Don't-"

"No,"  she said, taking nearly all the strength left to her.
"Xander?"

Xander moved close to her, bent over her so she would not
have to speak loudly, to tax herself.  He was amazed, having
lost so much blood she was awake at all and her pain was
apparent in the etched pallor of her face.

"Tell him-"  she whispered breathily.  "Tell him ...
I'll share ... my se-".  Her words were interrupted by a
cough.

Mulder started to move, not caring what more his partner might
want to impart to this teen.

Scully grabbed Xander's arm and Mulder was forced to stop.
She wasted no effort in repetition, only started exactly
where she'd left off.  "Secrets,"  she stopped, panting.
A small, weak, yet unbelievable, given the circumstances,
smile crept over her mouth.  "If he'll... tell ... his."

Xander looked at her, uncomprehending.  He nodded his agreement.

"Tell-"

"I will, I will,"  he promised verbally, not wanting to watch her
struggle any further.  Her words made little sense to him, but
that didn't matter.  His promise seemed to soothe her.  Xander
looked back up at Mulder.  "Go,"  he mouthed.

Anya glanced back at Xander, her eyes concerned, her face set.
Xander gave her a wan smile which she returned briefly.  Mulder
swept past her.  In his arms, Scully was now unconscious.
Turning, Anya followed them from the library.  Xander heard
her tell Mulder to be careful of all the debris.  He smiled
again, thinking Anya was leaning a few things about human
socialization.  He turned back to the scene in the room,
knowing they had never faced anything quite like this.  Then
again, it seemed each crisis they faced was unique in its
own special, terrifying, Hellmouth-y way.

Angel stepped slowly, as if in pain, or as if a child struggling
to master the art of ambulation.  Buffy had her arms around his
waist, was guiding him carefully to the center of the library,
to the pentagram where the demon in his blood could be
contained.  "We hope."  Cordelia's bleak, fatalistic words
echoed unhappily in Buffy's mind.

"Willow,"  Buffy called out.  "Be ready to start the spell."

Willow stared blankly at the Slayer.

Xander picked his way quickly over the treacherous, broken floor
of a room that had once been central to their lives.
He reached Wil and put an arm around her shoulder.  "Wil," he
whispered.  "You can do this.  Come on.  I'll help you get
everything ready."

Willow shook her head bleakly.

Cordelia, who was still close, kneeled down next to her two
former classmates.  She put an arm around Willow's other shoulder,
her hand brushed Xander's.  Over the red haired Witch's head,
they exchanged glances.  Cordelia smiled softly and Xander returned
the sentiment.  "Willow,"  Cordelia spoke in a voice that was so
soft and gentle, even Xander was taken aback.  He'd all but
forgotten the tender side of the spoiled Sunnydale princess they'd
known and loathed.  Mentally, he apologized to her for that
lapse of memory, for believing in the sum of his own bitterness.

Willow looked up at Cordy.

"Willow,"  Cordy repeated.  "You're the only one who can do
this."

"Giles can,"  Willow claimed tearfully.

Cordy shook her head.  "Not the way you can.  You're the witch,"
she said earnestly.

"Gee, Cor,  is now the time for name calling?"  Xander interrupted
with a little smile, hoping to tease Willow even a little way
out of her misery.

It worked as Willow giggled briefly.

Cordelia smiled gently too.  "Willow, please.  I know you love
Oz."  She paused and looked at Buffy, who still held Angel,
still struggled for each step with him.  "Well, I ... I
*need* Angel, Willow.  Not the way Buffy does, but-"

"Wil, you're the only one who can do this,"  Xander insisted.

Wil looked from Xander to Cordelia.  They both smiled 
encouragingly at her.  Finally, she nodded, a small, easily 
missed gesture had they not been watching her intently.  They
helped her up,  helped her to where she had laid out the magick
supplies she would need.

The werewolf seemed, as Xander and Cordelia talked to Willow,
to come out of the trance Angel's transformation had put him
in.  He turned, began to charge out the shattered window through
which he'd entered.  Giles and Wesley moved to head him off.
The were' paused, swerved.

Buffy looked up.  "Spike!"  she yelled.  "Help Giles and Wes,"
she commanded.

Spike began to move languorously as the beast slashed out at
the two Watchers, who leapt back rather gracelessly.

"Sooner, rather than later, Spike!"  Buffy added.

"Spike?"  Willow called out.  "Don't hurt him."

Spike raised his eyebrows in irritation.  "Help Giles and Wes,
Spike!  Sooner rather than later, Spike.  Don't hurt my
fuzzy boyfriend, Spike,"  he muttered sarcastically.  

He also moved faster.

Suddenly, Angel's body went rigid in Buffy's arms.  He reached
down and plucked her arms from his waist.  His motion
surprised her and he was able to nearly toss her away from
him.  As she stumbled backwards, she looked at him.  His eyes had
glazed over. She knew the demon was in control.

"Buffy!"  Giles yelled.

"I know!"  she replied.  "Any chance that 'suspected animation'
spell would work with them outside the pentagram?"

"'Suspended animation',"  Giles corrected.  Buffy rolled her eyes
at him, though she did adore the fact that even in the face of
unmitigated chaos he could take time to correct her.  "And I
don't know."

Buffy leapt at Angel, prepared for his vampiric strength this
time.  He fought her with his own strength, now harnessed to
the vile purpose of the demon possessing him.  He thrust her
away again.  She took a few steps back then launched herself
at him, her foot connecting solidly with his jaw.  His head
rocked back.  He fixed a snarling gaze on her, his face
metamorphasizing instantly into its vampire visage.

"Xander?"

"Yeah?"

"With the weapons, there's a tranquilizer gun."

"I'm on it,"  Xander assured her, edging his way past where
Buffy and Angel fought one another.

Near the windows, the three Brits wrestled the werewolf, jumping
back to avoid his slashing claws.  One caught Spike along the
upper arm.

"Bloody Hell!"  he cried out indignantly.  "You people are bad
for my health."

"We could be a lot worse for your health,"  Giles reminded him,
his voice winded, tense, a note of panic creeping in.

"We could use some of that tranquilizer over here, Xander,"
Wes yelled.

"All right,"  Xander called as he rummaged through the weapons'
pile.  He looked up as Wes screamed.  "Ouch!"  Xander hissed,
watching the man take an impromptu flight across what remained of
the library.

Cordelia and Willow turned their heads to follow his flight
path.  Wil winced in sympathy as Wes landed.  Cordy watched as
her colleague lay still for a moment, then groggily pulled 
himself upright.  Cordy shrugged.  "At least he didn't scream 
like a woman this time,"  she said matter-of-factly.

"Xander!"  Buffy called.  "Hurry."  

Angel had wrestled the Slayer to the floor and positioned himself
on top of her.  He pinned her hands above her head, the demon in
control of his soul screamed for her blood, screamed for a final
kill before its spawning.  Angel threw his head back, baring his
fangs.  He growled and lowered his jaw to her neck.  As his teeth
got closer and closer, Buffy struggled futilely against him.
Marshaling every bit of her strength she kicked his legs, clawed
at his hands, bucked her hips against him.

"Xan-derrrrrr!"

There was no reply from her friend, but suddenly the vampire's
body went limp against her.  She raised her head from the floor
and gazed at Xander, who still held the dart gun pointed at
Angel's back.  She was panting heavily.  "Nothing like
cutting it close,"  she told him.

"Sorry,"  he said sheepishly.  "The safety was on."  He looked
down at the dart gun in his hands.

"Xander?"  Giles reminded him strongly.

Buffy rolled Angel off of her and looked over to where Giles
and Spike fought the werewolf.  Wes was weaving his way back to
them, but he wobbled perilously, even over the few smooth regions
of the floor.

"I'll take care of him,"  Buffy told Xander, nodding down at
Angel.  "Go shoot Oz."

Xander leapt nimbly over the scarred, uplifted portions of
the floor and was in range in a few seconds.  Spike and Giles
each grabbed one of the beast's forearms.  They swung wildly as
the powerful animal continued to flail against their attempts at
restraint.

"For God's sake, make sure you hit *him*!"  Giles told him.
"I've got a decent track record of not going unconscious this
year and I'd like to keep it that way."  Giles' voice rose
and fell, wavered as his feet bounced off the floor and the 
beast shook him.

Xander took aim and pulled the trigger.  Nothing happened.

Disgusted, Spike told him, "You put the safety back on!"

Xander looked down.  He flipped the catch off and aimed again.
This time when he pulled the trigger there was a satisfying
release, accompanied by a small pop as the dart flew from the
muzzle.  The werewolf crumpled, nearly taking Spike and Giles
with him on his journey to the floor.

As Buffy dragged Angel's inert form toward the pentagram, Giles
and Spike tugged Oz to the same place.

"We have no idea how long the tranquilizer will last,"  Giles
said.

"Xander, give me a hand?"  Buffy asked.

At last both hosts lay silent, still, in the center of the
pentagram.  Buffy stared at Angel, tears running silently
down her face.  Xander took her hand and held it lightly.
She squeezed it in gratitude.

"I'll get started,"  Willow said softly.

Both bodies began to stir before Willow had gotten very far, but
they were bound by the mystical region described by the 
pentagram.  Willow's voice wavered as she watched out of the
corner of her eye, watched the body that was Oz stir, sit up,
watched his wolf features contort, heard him howl in confusion 
and pain.  She shook and her words faltered.

Cordy touched her hand lightly in reassurance.

Willow's voice steadied, continued.  Her voice  rose and fell with
the cadence of ancient words, understood only by the speaker
and the two Watchers.  From the depths of time and spirit, Willow
evoked the powers of binding demons, called on the scattered 
forces of light to hold back the dark tide rising within the
blood of the hosts.  

On cue, as they'd practiced, Giles added his supplication to
hers, echoing her pleas.  Their words rang off the charred,
tottering walls of the library.  The floor, which hid the
Hellmouth shimmered, seemed to waver.  Light, as if someone
off stage were training a theatrical spotlight on them, panned
over the assembled group.

Oz and Angel had begun stirring, had risen, charging the humans
who stood around them.  The unseen barrier of the pentagram
repulsed them, sent them sprawling back into the symbol's dark
heart.  Confusion quickly became anger.  Anger transfigured itself
into howling rage as the demons protested this thwarting of their
age-old instincts.  

Willow's voice grew louder, rose to a violent crescendo as she
made her words heard above the din of ired screams.  Giles too
practically yelled out his parts, his voice becoming even more
stern, more unyielding, harder.

Willow and Giles in unison called out the final syllables of
the suspension spell.  "Nah- *lah*!"  they commanded.
Oz and Angel both froze exactly as they were.

Like badly made statues they stared out at everyone, their faces
contorted in rage and pain.  Oz's left forearm was extended.
He appeared to be intent on ripping the air in front of him to
tatters.  Angel's teeth were bared, his mouth a soulless, 
menacing leer.

"You did it!"  Cordelia shouted.  "You stopped the demons!"

Willow released the pent up breath she hadn't known she was holding.
She shook slightly.  "We paused the demons, that's all."

Wes and Giles quickly crossed to Willow.

"Yes,"  Wes agreed.  "The hardest part is yet to come."

"You okay, Wil?"  Buffy asked.

Willow nodded.  "I just want to get this over with."

"I don't think you'll find any arguments here,"  Giles observed.

As Willow, Giles, and Wesley arranged the needed supplies for the
second spell, the casting out, Buffy spoke to Xander, Spike, and
Cordelia.

"OK, we have to be prepared in case this doesn't work and we..."
She bit her lip in consternation.

"We won't have to,"  Xander said softly.

"We *may*, "  Buffy insisted.

Xander looked down at his shoes.  Cordelia turned away and sniffed
slightly.

Without another word, Buffy handed out weapons and gave warnings.
Watching Willow and Giles finish their preparations, she whispered
to Cordy,  "Your visions have been right so far.  Anything about
what comes next?"

Cordy shook her head dismally.

Buffy shrugged.  "No news is good news and all that."  Her voice
quavered.  She was only calm on the outside.  She sighed,
exhausted again by the destiny that repeatedly demanded she set
aside everything she wished she could have been and be that for which
fate had chosen her to be.

"They're ready,"  Wes informed everyone.

Xander couldn't watch Oz and Angel - the hosts, he tried to make
himself think; it made this a tiny bit easier and living in
Sunnydale taught you to appreciate life's small wonders.
He watched instead Buffy and Willow and Cordelia.
He thought of the role the three of them had played in his life
over the last few years.

He thought of Buffy, whom he'd worshipped from the moment he saw her.
He remembered how beautiful she had seemed, so young and fresh, full
of optimism and a determination to live her life on her terms.
She was far more beautiful now, he realized.  The Slayer skin,
which she had worn for so long like an ill-fitting costume, like
a child playing dress-up in her mother's discarded clothing, now
had been stretched and molded, cut and tucked to fit her perfectly.
She had lost everything that made her who she was, or so she'd thought,
and she'd left them behind.  All that confidence had lain in tiny,
shattered bits around them all.  When she'd returned, she had
knitted it together again, had forged of herself something new,
something far more certain, something far more real and true to
the inmost nature both Xander and Angel had seen.  

He considered Cordelia, who bit her lip in consternation.  He
shook his head disbelievingly.  She too had changed, the girl
he had once thought was incapable of changing.  She remained
forthright to the point of painfulness, but somehow now it 
seemed less petty, as though the world had opened up for
her and she had understood its meaning at long last.

Lastly, his eyes fell, and rested, on Willow.  He couldn't remember
a day of his life when he hadn't known her.  There must have been
a time when she had been a stranger to him, but his mind had wiped
clean that part of his memories.  He knew her better than he knew
anyone else, as she knew him.  He loved her as he could love
no one else in this world.  She was the repository of his past,
the monitor of his present, and the reliquary of his future.
She had already been through so much with Oz that Xander wondered
how much more she could stand, how much longer could she lean into
the gale force winds, bending without breaking.

She had changed so much since Buffy had come into their lives,
Xander reflected.  Then, he realized that wasn't accurate.
Willow was what she had always been, just more so.  It was as if,
over these years, the colors, the hues that were Willow Rosenberg
had sharpened, brightened.  She was like a photograph, one of
those old sepia toned ones that, instead of bleaching out, had
become more vivid, had shown more accurately with each passing 
moment its subject's true self.  Xander realized again Willow was
the finest person he knew, finer in her way than even Buffy.  For
Willow, with no special powers, had always stood her ground
against the darkness they lived with.

He watched her now as she shook like a leaf in a light wind.
Her voice was watery, uncertain.  She glanced nervously at
Oz too often, every emotion spread out along the planes of her
face.  

Willow and Giles spoke the old African words that, if the
legend was correct, would expel the demons, would fling
them into the makeshift am'rus, where Buffy could dispatch them
with a modicum of ease.

Willow's hand quavered violently as she sprinkled herbs and
other items of potent magick onto the shining surface of
each am'ru.  Giles' hand was steadier as he added a foul smelling
mixture to the dust Willow had sifted through her fingers.
At last Xander turned his attention, like that of everyone else,
to the figures in the pentagram.

Everyone jumped, those not involved in the conjuring actually
moved backwards, as both hosts screamed.  Willow and Giles
stood, one at each am'ru now, a mystical bar holding back
the demons.  Willow shook horribly, Giles too, though less so.
Both were sweating, yet ashen in pallor.  Both looked anxious.

"Oh my God,"  Cordelia whispered, then turned away and covered her
eyes with her hands.  Blood trickled from every pore of both hosts.

Buffy watched in stunned horror as blood at first trickled slowly,
then with more speed, as streams rushing downhill, then it became
a torrent from the statuesque bodies of Oz and Angel.  Their clothing
was soaked in it, the floor soon washed in it.  It flowed in two
distinct paths.

"It's working,"  the Slayer whispered.

The blood ran, making gurgling, protesting noises, into each copper
container where, sickeningly, they could hear it slosh.  Buffy
almost thought she could hear it speak, curse them, rage against
those who had put it there, who had denied it it's right to
procreate.

With an ever tapering slowness, Giles and Willow's voices came to
a quiet halt.  The spell was over and it had succeeded.  In the 
pentagram, Oz and Angel collapsed.

Xander started it, his voice rising in a cheer of pure triumph.
He hugged Cordelia, who hugged back.  Giles embraced Willow and
congratulated her.  Buffy clutched her best friend as if she might
never let go.  "Thank you,"  the blonde whispered.

Willow blushed.  Hands clasped, both girls stepped inside the
markings on the floor, knelt by Oz and Angel.  Angel was awake,
disoriented, but seeming none the worse for the possession.
Oz began to stir as Willow murmured his name.

"Um?"  Hullo?"  Spike said hesitantly.

"What is it, Spike?"  Giles asked, his voice both tired and
irritated.

"Wull, I don't want to ruin your litt-ul celebration here, but
it may be a bit too soon to break out the noise makers and
party hats, if you know what I mean."

"As a matter of fact, I don't know what you mean and I'm not
entirely certain I-"  Giles chided him, stopping as Spike
pointed to something over Giles' shoulder.

"I mean *that*,"  Spike said.

Behind Giles on one side and Xander on the other, the copper
planters, poor substitutes, had spilt open silently and disgorged
their contents.  The demons, having been expelled from their hosts
and unable to find a source of water, had taken on corporeal form.
No one had ever seen a Vesparys in corporeal form.  Giles' last
thought before the real battle began was that it was a shame the
Council employed neither him nor Wesley any longer, as this
information might have interested them.

END PART 31

Vesparys (32/33)

SUNNYDALE HIGH (ABANDONED, BURNED OUT)
SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA
11:37 PM - MARCH 24

The Vesparys demons rose, corporeal for the first time in
millennia.  They had been formed in the time demons walked 
the earth, before, as Giles had once been so fond of relating,
the 'race of man' had filled the earth like a 'plague of boils'.
Formed to travel the primordial seas, to revel in the sickened,
sulfurous sludge of languorous rivers, to bathe in the lacy-
scummed shawls that hugged the shores of primeval lakes.
Their bodies were lithe, sinuous.  Scales shimmered with an oily,
wan glow.  A thin film of blood seemed to coat these scales,
to seep from them in a slow, steady ooze.  They reeked of
putrefaction and gore, of centuries of killing and of the unholy
pleasure taken in each act of violence.

When they opened their mouths it was in unison, as though they
were but one voice, one will, in two beings.  They shrieked
in rage and in pain.  These bodies, once home to them, had been
cast off so long ago, they no longer knew how to fit into them.
Too long accustomed to the boundless freedom of Earth's vast
network of water, or else, at home in the blood of their prey,
singing their death song, finding ecstasy in the anguish and
agony of their victims.  They howled in the fear of their
own vulnerability.  For eons they had taken pleasure not only in
the killing, in the pain, but in thwarting all that was good and
pure in humans, in rendering them into killers who willingly,
even joyfully, took the lives of those around them before ending
their own.  Now, however fearsome they were, they were still
*vulnerable* and afraid.

Buffy touched Willow's arm.  Wil looked over at her, her eyes
saucers.  Buffy nodded down at Oz and Angel.  "We've got to get 
them out of here,"  she told Willow.

The redhead nodded.

"Buffy, no,"  Angel protested weakly.  "I can..."

She looked at him.  He was laying across her lap.  Pain spiked
through her forehead, the world rolled over on a forty-five degree
angle, then quickly righted itself.  It was like being in one of
those snow globes, Buffy thought disjointedly.  She'd done this
before.  She'd held him like this, one hand caressing his face,
her heart clenched in the terror of losing him, not just of his
going away, but of his being taken out of the world, being where
she could never touch him again.  "Angel,"  she whispered.  
"What...?"

"Buffy?"  Giles called sharply.

The Slayer looked up, her mind clearing, the memory fading, her 
heart relaxing.

"Angel, get out of here.  You're weak."

"I'll be fine,"  he insisted.

Willow had gotten a very groggy Oz to his feet with Xander's
help.  Buffy pulled Angel up.

"Buffy!"  Angel pleaded with her.

She looked at him, her mouth compressed into a thin line, her lips
trembling nonetheless.  "You're *hurt*.  You could be killed,"
she reminded him, her voice quickly thickening with tears.

"So could you,"  he said softly.

She met his eyes, trying to blink back the tears.  He reached up and
brushed one from her cheek.  Words screamed in her mind.  "It's
not long enough; it's not long enough.  I'll never forget."  Her
words, her voice, desperate, disbelieving echoed in her head.
She took a deep breath.  "Cordelia?"  she called out.  "Come get
your boss out of here."

Angel gazed at her, his dark eyes caressing her, pulling her into
everything they'd had.  "Don't-"

"Nothing's gonna happen to me,"  she promised.

"Because you're the Slayer?"  he asked angrily.

She touched his face.  "Because I want to know what it was
I wasn't ever going to forget."

Angel closed his eyes and bowed his head until his forehead 
touched hers.  He sighed, a reflex hundreds of years old.
Where another man's sigh might have washed her face in his
scent, lifted her hair with such a show of love, Buffy heard 
nothing more than the  sound, felt his love only in her heart.

Cordelia tugged at his arm.  Angel turned and stumbled after 
the brunette.  Willow and Xander and Oz were at the entrance
to the library, out of the battle but none willing to abandon
completely their friends.

Buffy turned to face Giles.  He tossed her a sword.  Wes and 
Spike were similarly armed.  "Spike, with Giles!  Wes, with me,"
Buffy commanded.

"Awwww,"  Giles and Spike protested as one.

Buffy glared at both of them.  "Boys?  What say we argue
about it *after* we dispatch the big uglies?  OK?"

Sullenly, both nodded.

Buffy looked over at Wes.  "You ready?"

Wes nodded, traces of his former self-importance rising to the
surface.  "We rogue demon hunters are always ready for anything,"
he intoned.

Buffy raised her eyebrows at him.  "Duck,"  she said.

"What?"

"Duck!"  she iterated, loudly.

Wes ducked just as the demon behind him swung wildly.  It was
clear these demons were clumsy in their new-old corporeal forms,
but Buffy had no doubt they'd learn fast.  With a smooth, 
practiced move, she sliced at the demon's arm as it reached for
Wes.  The sword reverberated off the scales, sending waves of
pain up Buffy's arm, causing her to catch her breath.

"These aren't going to be much use,"  she called out.

"We got that!"  Spike said.  Buffy glanced over her shoulder.
Giles was hacking at "his" demon, while Spike had jumped on its
back and was pounding on its head.  Buffy shrugged.  If it got 
the job done...

Buffy took a few steps back, gathered momentum, spinning into a
wicked kicking motion.  She caught the demon square in its scaly,
ugly chest and sent it sprawling backwards.  It seemed stunned,
disoriented.  She leapt onto it and began pummeling its face, which 
was about the only part not covered in those impervious scales.

"Buffy, Wes,"  Giles called out.  "Underneath its... um...where
ears would be...I think...ooof...ughghghg..."

"Giles?"  Buffy's voice was high pitched with concern.

There was a choking noise, several loud thumps, and then Giles
spoke again.  "No, no, quite all right.  Nothing to worry about."

"You were saying?"  Buffy asked.

"What?"  Giles paused.  "Oh, um, yes...ears ... I think they're
vulnerable there...no scales...urrrrffff...Spike, for Pete's
sake, do make certain you hit the *demon*!"

This last was accompanied by a loud howl from the platinum haired
'Big Bad'.  "OH!  God!  Bloody Commando Boys, if I ever-"

"Shut UP!"  Buffy and Giles yelled.  Buffy added, "Kill demons now,
threaten the Initiative later!"

The demon beneath her struggled.  Buffy looked desperately around
her for anything sharp she could drive into that unprotected 
spot where their ears should be.  "Where the hell's Faith when you
need her?"  she muttered.

"What?"  Wes asked incredulously.

Buffy looked at him.  "You can bet Faith would have had a knife
stashed somewhere."

"Buffy, Faith would have had any number of lethal objects upon 
her person,"  Wes observed.

"My point,"  Buffy told him flatly.  Her fist connected with
what might have been the demon's nose.  "Wes, with the weapons,
there are a couple daggers."

"I'm on my way,"  he assured her.  That was right before he tripped
over the demon's outstretched arm.  

"Giles might be having a decent year staying conscious, but you're
sure not, are you?"  Buffy muttered at Wes' prone figure.

She punched the demon again, checked to see that Spike and Giles
were holding their own against their prey.  Her eyes darted to
the weapons stash.  She judged the distance, took in the obstacles
in between, and decided a sprint across the library was the only
way to end this.

In one smooth move, she was off the demon and running full speed.
Her blond ponytail streamed out behind her as her muscled legs
pumped hard, propelling her with almost effortless grace over
the ground to be covered.  She reached the weapons, found a 
dagger.

"Giles!"  she yelled.  "Here."  She lobbed the dagger across
the room.  It connected with a solid thuh-whump and an indignant
scream. 

"Oh, come on!"  Spike complained.  "What am I lately, a bleedin'
pincushion?"

"Not a word about weapons training, Giles,"  Buffy warned him.

"Oh, no.  Not a word,"  Giles promised with a grin.  He wrenched the
dagger free from Spike's shoulder and drove it into the soft folds
of the demon's neck.  Ichor, thick, crimson, foul-smelling, gushed
from the mortal wound Giles had inflicted.  Giles and Spike both
made disgusted noises.

Caught off guard, Buffy was tackled by the remaining demon, now
in a frenzy of demented, mournful rage.  Buffy found herself 
struggling against the demon.  She had no leverage and could do 
little more than defend herself from clawlike nails and what
she realized were some wicked looking teeth.  "I know,"  she
grunted, "you've been out of circulation for...".  She panted.
"...a long time, but wow,"  she exhaled sharply as the demon
landed a solid punch on her stomach.  "...haven't you ever
heard of Listerine?"

Buffy felt her strength ebbing.  Her hand groped blindly amongst
the weapons.  She knew there was another dagger in there 
somewhere.  She hoped she could find it, unsheathe it, and
find the right spot before the demon got the better of her.
"Damn,"  she muttered.  "Where the hell-"

Suddenly, the demon was wrenched off of her, pulled upright.
It howled and kicked as its feet were pulled off the floor.
Its high pitched wails were cut off in an instant as its head
lolled forward and its struggles stopped.  Buffy watched in
amazement as Angel dropped the demon to the floor.

"You can also break their necks,"  he said.

"I see that,"  Buffy breathed.  They looked at one another
for a long moment.  "Thanks,"  she added softly.

"Any time,"  he told her.

She looked at him questioningly.

He smiled.  "Any time I'm in Sunnydale that is."

Slowly everyone returned to the middle of the library.  Cordelia
and Xander helped Wes up.  Wes touched the back of his head
gingerly, wincing as his fingers grazed a sizable lump.

"You all right, Wes?"  Buffy called out while still gazing at
Angel.

Wes nodded, setting off waves of nausea.  Weakly, he said,
"Yes, I'll be fine as soon as ..."  He wobbled dizzily,
reaching out to Cordy and Xander who steadied him.  "Well,
maybe I'll sit down on this nice ... er ... chair?"  He looked
down at a piece of mangled furniture that might once have 
been one of the library's chairs.  It also may have been a card
catalog.

Leaving Wesley sitting somewhat comfortably, Xander and Cordy joined
the others in their examinations of the bodies.  The others had
gathered around the one Angel had strangled.

"Ewwwwww,"  Cordy observed.

Willow, holding up Oz, paled.  Her mouth curled down and her
teeth crept out along her bottom lip.  "Double ewwwwww."

"I think  "ewwwww" has been nominated and seconded,"  Xander
quipped.  "All in favor, say 'aye'."

No one said anything, but everyone raised a hand, including
Wes from his seat across the room.

En masse, they trailed over to the one Giles and Spike had
tag teamed.  The dagger was still stuck into its neck 
area.  No one got too close due to the large pool of ichor
that spread out from beneath its corpse.

Cordy tilted her head to one side.  Then she turned her head
around and looked over at the other one.

"Hm!"  she muttered.

"What?"  Giles asked.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, innocent looking.  "Hmmm?
Oh, well, ...  um ...,"  she blushed.

Buffy's eyebrows rose as she too peered more intently at the
stabbed demon.  "So, do you think size *does* matter?"  she 
asked with a suppressed smile.

"I bet *he'd* like to think so,"  Xander replied.

"And I was so hoping with Anya gone we could avoid any sort of
...unseemliness."

"Nope,"  Buffy told him.  "Not possible."  She smiled.

"What should we  do with them?"  Willow asked after some silence.

"Oh, God,"  Buffy exclaimed.  "I *hate* digging graves.  You know
that's the nice thing about vamps.  You stake 'em.  They turn
to dust.  Worst case scenario - the cord on the dustbuster isn't
long enough..."

"...and, the batteries aren't charged,"  Xander finished.

"Do *you* mind?"  Spike yowled.  "There are vampires present,
after all."

"For once, I agree with Spike,"  Angel deadpanned.  "And that
hasn't happened in over a century."

"I don't think it would be wise to leave them here,"  Giles 
said.  Everyone sighed.  "Also, I think we should bury them
in several pieces each."

"Dismemberment?"  Buffy complained.  "Again?"

"Some days it just doesn't pay to save the world, does it?"
Angel asked her.

*****************************************************************


RUPERT GILES' RESIDENCE
SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA
3:14 AM  - MARCH 25

Bodies lay scattered around Giles' living room.
Willow sat against one end of the couch, Oz cradled in her
lap.  She stroked his hair tiredly.  Xander was propped up
against the other end, with Anya wrapped in his arms.

Giles sat, leaning back in the chair near his desk.  Wesley
still held an ice pack against his tender head.  He sat leaning
against a wall.  Buffy and Angel sat, holding hands, on the stairs.

"So, Agent Scully is going to be fine?"  Giles asked Anya.

Anya turned owlish eyes on him.  Slowly, she nodded.  "They said
she could go home tomorrow."  Anya paused, then added defensively,
"Agent Mulder is staying with her.  I didn't have to stay."

"No, Ahn, it's fine.  Thanks for going with them," Xander said
quietly.

Anya smiled her happy smile and shrugged more deeply into Xander's
embrace.  She had gotten back to Giles' just as the rest had
returned from disposing of the bodies of the Vesparys demons.
They had filled her in on their trials and tribulations and 
the subsequent burials.

"Burial*s*?"  she had asked.

"Two demons, a dozen earthen holes,"  Buffy had said with a sigh.

"Yeah,"  Xander had agreed.  "One grave for each of Sunnydale's
fine cemeteries.  Didn't want to leave any of them out."

Anya's eyes had lit up, despite how tired she had been by then.
"Dismemberment?"  she had asked with glee.  Then her smile had
changed into a scowl.  "I missed it?  Damn, I miss all the
best parts."

Everyone had looked at her, expressions confused, somewhat 
revolted.  She had stared back blankly.  Finally, everyone had
simply shrugged at her.  Angel had nudged Buffy, who had gazed up
at him.

"Don't ask,"  she had whispered.  "The explanation would be
worse, trust me."

He had nodded.

Buffy had continued to look at Angel, watching the question he
couldn't bring himself to ask eat into him.  His dark eyes
had gone even darker and he had twined his fingers, lacing and
unlacing them repetitively.  She had taken one hand then and had
not let go.

"Anya?"  Buffy had asked.  "Agent Scully?"

"Hmmm?"  Anya had looked totally blank for a moment.

"You know, the one Angel sunk his fangs into,"  Spike had added 
maliciously.

"Spike,"  Giles had said without looking up from the spot on the
carpet that held his attention so firmly,  "go away."

"Oh sure, first it's 'Come kill demons with us, Spike' and then 
when the killing is done, I'm just dismissed.  Is that it?"
he had demanded angrily.  "And what if I won't go?"

"Hecate, goddess of darkness, hear my plea.   This unholy-"
Willow had been interrupted in her spell.

"All right, all right!"  Spike had exclaimed, holding up his
hands.  He had stomped to the door, turned, and looked at
the assembled crowd.  "I don' know why I keep on helping you
anyway."

After the door had slammed behind him, Wesley had asked,  
"And this is the 'Big Bad'?  William the Bloody?"

He had been greeted by silence and nodding heads.

"Not an all together bad change,"  Angel had said dryly.

"Yeah,"  Xander had agreed.  "Even better when he's not
sleeping in your lazy-boy."

"Or chained in your bathtub,"  Giles had agreed.

Buffy had leaned in, ready to whisper an explanation to Angel.

"Don't,"  he had said softly.  "I don't want to know."

Still stroking Oz's hair, Willow had spoken in a far-off voice,
coated in emotional and physical exhaustion, "It's kind of sad."

"Spike?"  Cordelia had asked.  "Because I, for one, don't think
it's sad at all.  I mean, when you think about all he's done-"

"No,"  Willow had stated emphatically.  "The Vesparys demons."

"Um...Wil?"  Xander had said,  "How tired are you?"

She had smiled.  "Not *that* tired."  She had paused.  "It's
just that ... well, they were looking for the things we all
want.  Someone to be with, some way to achieve immortality,
you know, by leaving behind children."

"Willow?"  Angel had said flatly,  "Demons aren't looking for any
of those things.  Most of the time they just want to kill
something, any way they can."

Willow had smiled, a very small, sad smile.

Then Giles had asked about Agent Scully.

"That's good,"  Buffy said.  "About Agent Scully."  She squeezed
Angel's hand.

"Great,"  Angel said sarcastically, shaking his head slightly.

"Angel, you didn't have a choice,"  Buffy said, looking intently
into his eyes.  "She would have died, would never have been able
to withstand that - that-"

He nodded.  Then, he stood up.

"Wes?"

"Er...yes?"  Wesley jumped, having been dozing lightly.

"I'll meet you and Cordelia here tomorrow after sundown,"
Angel explained tersely.

"What?  Oh...all right.  Er...meet us here?  Where are-"

"I'll meet you two here,"  Angel repeated.

"After sundown,"  Cordelia said gently.  "We'll be ready."

Angel walked out the door, shutting it firmly behind him.
Buffy watched him helplessly.  She'd watched him tear himself
to pieces before and she'd feared for him before.  She no
longer knew if she'd be welcome though, in his life, if she
would bring comfort, or only disquieting reminders of everything
that never would be again.

"Buffy?"  Xander spoke softly.  "Go."

Buffy looked at the others.  Neither Wes nor Cordy would meet 
her eyes, but Willow nodded at her.  Lastly, she caught Giles'
eye; he inclined his head.  It was all she needed.  She fled the
luminous circle of her friends, running out into the familiar
darkness, chasing a shadow who would always have the power to
eclipse her heart.  She called his name.

He stopped, became still as a statue.  Only his hands moved, 
clenching into fists.

Buffy reached him, put a hand on his arm.  "Angel,"  she
whispered.

"Buffy,"  he groaned.  "Go back inside."

"No,"  she told him.

"I need to be alone,"  he said.

"That's the last thing you need,"  she insisted.  

"Buffy-"

"No,"  she repeated.  "I won't leave you alone.  Not like this."

He looked down at her.  His eyes were solemn, his face grave.  At
last he smiled at her.  He brushed her cheek with one cool fingertip.
"You don't take 'no' for an answer, do you?"

"Have I ever?"  she teased.

He shook his head, laughing gently at her.  "Not once,"  he 
admitted.  He kissed her, felt her stand up on her tiptoes to
get closer to him.  He wrapped his arms around her.  With one
hand he stroked her blond hair, cradled her head in his palm.

She pulled her mouth away from his with an aching slowness.
Want and need raged through him.  Not the desire to possess,
to control, but the need to belong, to fulfilled and thus
be fulfilled.  She made him as close to human as anything
ever could.

"Come on,"  she whispered, pulling him forward, away from Giles',
away from friends, associates, and prying eyes.

Inside, a curtain fluttered shut.  Giles sighed to himself.

"She wants to know what happened,"  Cordelia said.

"Do you suppose he'll tell her?"  Giles asked.

Cordy and Wes both shrugged.

Giles snorted softly.  "There's never been a Slayer like her."

"Nor will there be again, in all likelihood,"  Wes added.

"Oh, I'd say Faith brings her own special brand of individuality
to the realm of Slayerdom,"  Xander interjected with some bitterness.
His face then creased.  "She wants to know what?  What should
Angel tell her?"

Willow shook her head at him.

"But-"  Xander protested.

"Whatever it is, Buffy'll tell us when she wants to,"  Willow
told him.  She looked down at Oz, who had fallen asleep with his
head in her lap.  He had come back too soon.  Too soon for him,
too soon for her.  Love and pain were still freshly intertwined,
memories too clear and precise.  Time had not yet brought its
full measure of forgiveness.  Nor had it wrought in him the control
he'd hoped for, the victory over the beast within.  Willow couldn't
honestly say what she thought would come next.  She had feared that
night for Oz because he had woven himself into the pattern of
her soul, but she no longer felt each heartbeat as though it was
in rhythm with his; her life had moved on, the weaver's fingers
hesitant, clumsy at the beginning, but now smoothing out, 
opening up, 
changing the pattern in ways both subtle and deft. She bit her lip, 
wondering if he would understand any of it.  The colors he'd 
brought into her life had not faded, had remained part of who
she was, but the pattern in which they met, danced, was different.
Time might someday spin her back to him, or it might whirl her
away completely.  Would he see that?

"Willow?"  It was Giles' voice breaking into her hazy reverie.
"Why don't you go back to your room?  Oz can stay here.  Wes and
I will keep an eye on him.  You - we - can deal with this
in the - well, *later* this morning."

Willow nodded and eased herself out from under Oz.  He stirred 
slightly but did now wake.  Xander and Anya extricated themselves
from the other end of the couch.  Xander picked up Oz's feet and
gently laid them on the cushions.

"Come on,  we'll walk you and Cordy back to campus,"  he offered.

"We will?"  Anya asked.

"We will,"  Xander told her emphatically, his raised eyebrows
emphasizing the point.

She smiled and gave a decisive nod of her head.  Putting on her
best 'cheerful' voice and face, she said with Anya-exuberance,
"We will!"

"That's my girl," Xander remarked sardonically.

"And how long has this been going on?"  Cordy asked, sidling up
to Willow.

Willow sighed in response.

"What *does*-"

"Jealous?"  Willow interrupted.

Cordy sputtered, but closed her mouth.  "I just don't like her,"
she muttered.

"And yet,"  Giles reminded her softly,  "we have you to thank
for her presence."

"Me?"  Cordy was indignant.

"Well none of the rest of us wished Buffy had never come to
Sunnydale,"  Willow said.

Cordy looked taken aback.  "Oh, all right, fine,"  she said.
"Let's go."

Giles chuckled softly as the teens left.

"We really managed it,"  Wes observed.

"You mean Buffy and Angel managed it, don't you?"  Giles corrected.

"Well, yes, all right,"  Wes agreed.  "But I don't think the rest
of us were useless."

"No, never that.  It's amazing," Giles said slowly,  "such strength
in numbers."

"Yes, well, a superior force-"

"For God's sake, man, I don't mean the fact we outnumbered those
demons!"  Giles exclaimed.  "This ... group ... everyone does
his or her part and together, we are greater than  the sum of
those parts, even Buffy and Angel themselves."

Wes was silent.

********************************************************************

SUNNYDALE GENERAL HOSPITAL
ROOM 2014
5:35 A.M.

"Mulder?"  Scully's voice was weak, confused.

Mulder jerked awake.  He'd been sitting in a chair next to her bed
since they had transferred her in here.  Her hand was still clutched
in his.  "Scully?"

"Where...?  Why am I here?"

"You don't remember?"

"I - we were at the high school..."

"In the library,"  Mulder supplied.

She nodded and winced as pain shot through her neck.  She touched
the bandage on her neck with two tentative fingers.  Her eyes 
widened as her mind registered the location of her injury.
"Um... I..." she stumbled over her words.  "I stepped in something -
water - it was so cold."

"It was one of the demons,"  Mulder told her.

She rolled her eyes at him.  "Mulll-derrr,"  she said.  "Come on.
I can't believe I let you talk me into that ... nonsense."

He raised his eyebrows at her, wishing for the umpteenth time
he could arch just the one like she could.  "You don't remember
anything else?"

She gave that some thought.  "Something about Angel.  He did that
... thing with his face."

Gently, softly, Mulder told her.  "He fed on you, Scully.  To get
the demon out of your blood."

She laughed at him, wishing she hadn't as she was suddenly woozy 
and her neck seemed to throb.  She could almost feel the flesh
pulsing uncomfortably.  "I don't...can't ... it's not true,"  she
said lamely.

Mulder stood up and leaned over her.  With cautious movements,
he removed the bandage on her neck.  She sat, stunned, fearful,
dubious, while he went and got her a mirror from the bathroom.
He held it out to her.  She examined her neck.

"Oh my God,"  she whispered.

END PART 32

Vesparys (33/33)

SUNNYDALE GENERAL HOSPITAL
ROOM 2014
MARCH 25 - 5:45 A.M.


Scully stared at the reflection of her neck in the hand mirror
Mulder had brought her.  Her hand trembled as she touched the
torn skin with her other hand.  Her fingers brushed the ragged
wounds and she winced at the stinging sensation that
produced.  Her face lost all color, making the mark all
the more livid in contrast.

"Mulder...oh my God,"  she repeated.  "What happened ... you
didn't mean ... not really..."

Mulder nodded at her, his face creased in worry.

She put the mirror down.  Her eyes met his and locked.  Her 
lips were clamped together tightly and he could see her
swallowing convulsively and running her tongue over her
teeth.  At last she spoke, her voice hard and tight,  "You're
telling me I was possessed by a demon and to ...what? ...
cure me, Angel - *bit* me?  Mulder, come on, you can't expect
me to believe that."

He shook his head slowly.  Seven years and she still found every
way she could to rationalize what she saw, what she experienced.
"Scully, last night, you yourself told me you were chased by a
werewolf,"  he said softly.  She started to speak, but he
held up his hand.  "How is it that you can't believe what I'm
telling you?"

She looked down at her hands, saw her pale reflection gazing 
back at her from the mirror which lay in her lap.  "Mulder,
I was ... last night, I was chased by some wild animal, stuck in
a - a - a crypt, for God's sake, with someone I hardly knew ...
I - "

"You were spooked?"  he asked with a smile.

She glared at him, but only briefly.

"Scully, we've been down this road before.  I know you need proof,
scientific proof, but ... think of the bodies you've seen, think
of - how do you explain that?"  he pointed to her neck.  "What
do you think the doctor is going to tell you about why you're
here?"

"I don't know,"  she answered heatedly.

"If he tells you they treated you for massive blood loss,
what will you say to that?"

"Why would Angel,"  she stopped and sighed angrily.  "Fine,
Mulder, say Angel - how did you put it earlier, 'fed on me'?-
say he did that, why?  If I was possessed by some demon,
how would *that* help me?"

"Scully, think about those autopsies you did...all of them.
You told me it looked like their arteries and veins had been
scoured with an acid, right?"

She nodded.

"You heard what Wesley and Giles told us about these 'entities',
if you don't want to call them demons.  They possess the hosts
through their blood."

"And how exactly did I get 'possessed' again?"  she asked
with skeptic hostility.

"You ... um ... stepped in ... one of them."

"Of course,"  she said with a nod, meaning just the opposite.

Mulder was silent.  After a moment he said,  "Don't you remember
getting cold?"

For the first time she looked confused, unable to make a reply.

Mulder pressed forward.  "That was the effect of the demon.  It
was in your blood."

She bit her lip.  "So the only way to stop the ... demon ...
was for Angel to ..."

"Feed on you,"  Mulder finished.  "It saved you."

"Then what?"  she asked tentatively.

"Anya and I brought you here."

"What happened to Angel and the rest?"

"I don't know.  I - had to get you here.  Angel saved you from the
demon, but the blood loss almost killed you."

The doctor came in before Mulder could say any more.  He was
young, mid-twenties, Mulder guessed.  He picked up Scully's
chart and studied it for a moment.

"Miss Scully?  How are you feeling?"  the doctor asked.

She looked at Mulder briefly.  "Um ... fine."

"Do you remember anything from last night, when Agent Mulder
and Miss Emerson brought you in?"

She shook her head.

"Do you recall anything about the animal that attacked you?"

"Animal?"

"Yeah, you remember, Scully,"  Mulder prompted.  "We were
walking back to our hotel when that animal attacked us."

Scully rolled her eyes at him, then turned back to the doctor.
"I'm sorry, Doctor ... Thompson, I don't remember too much."

He nodded.  "We get a lot of that."

"Really?"  Mulder asked in mock surprise.

The doc nodded.  "You'd be surprised."

"Or not,"  Mulder muttered under his break.

"So, um, when could I leave?"  Scully asked.

The doctor replied,  "Well, you lost an awful lot of blood.
I'd like to keep you a couple more hours for observation.
This evening OK?"

She nodded.

"I'll send a nurse in to check your vital signs, then I'd like
you to try to rest some more.  I'd just like to be sure we got
everything back in balance before releasing you."

She agreed.

The nurse came in, took Scully's pulse, blood pressure, checked the
IV that dripped into her arm, and redressed the wound on her neck.
She refused to meet either Mulder or Scully's gazes.  As the 
nurse left, Mulder, in a stage whisper, said, "It's a good thing
they won't release you until tonight.  You know, the *sun* and 
all."

The nurse gasped and hurried from the room.

Scully giggled at Mulder while trying to scold him.

*****************************************************************

SUNNYDALE HIGH SCHOOL (FRONT)
3:18 P.M.

Willow sighed, looking at the building she couldn't quite 
seem to escape.

"I can't disagree with that,"  Oz said.

They looked at each other.  

Willow had returned to Giles' around eleven in the morning.  Oz
had been awake, talking with Giles and Wes.  He had looked tired
but whole, unscathed by his recent possession.  Willow had felt
tense, uncertain around Oz and whether he had simply sensed that
or had felt that way himself, the situation had been awkward.
Giles had come to the rescue by suggesting they go for lunch.

Willow had seized on that eagerly.  Food was a distraction, even if
she hadn't felt even remotely hungry.  They had offered to bring
back sandwiches to share.

"Oh, no, thank you, though,"  Giles had declined.  "Cordelia 
promised to bring us something."

"On second thought..."  Wesley had added with a smile.

Everyone had chuckled.

"Where is Cordelia?"  Willow had asked, looking around for the
missing seer.

Giles had smiled blandly.  "She ...er ... went to see her
parents."

"Oh,"  Willow had said softly, raising and eyebrow and crinkling
her mouth uncertainly.  "I wonder how *that* will go."

"Yes, well,"  Wesley had said,  "if you feel the earth tremble,
see the sun darken, and feel the urge to tear your clothing..."

"Right,"  Willow had agreed in mock solemnity.  "We'll know it
didn't go well."

She and Oz had had sandwiches at the Espresso Pump, then had
walked around town, drawn to the old high school, it seemed.

Now they stood, gazing at the walls which still stood, scorched
in places, visibly weakened in others.

"Really?"  Oz asked.  Despite the completely non sequential nature
of his question, Wil seemed to know what he meant.

She nodded.

"I never would have pegged him as the type,"  Oz commented.

"It was ... unsettling,"  Willow told him.

"To say the least,"  Oz agreed.  "I just can't ...No, trying, but
I can't see it."

They were silent.

"Did Buffy?"

Willow shook her head.  "She missed it."

Oz grunted in reply.  "Probably a good thing."

"Probably."

"He does have good taste in music, though."

"Yeah.  He does."  She paused for a moment.  "It was still 
weird hearing Giles sing though."

Oz laughed quietly, briefly.  His face slackened, he seemed to
be concentrating on something far away.

"What happened, Wil?"

"When?"

"Here.  Last night.  How did you all know where to be ... what 
to do?"

Wil sighed again before telling him the story of the Vesparys
demons and his own possession.  Part of her was surprised Giles
and Wes hadn't filled him in, but part of her was grateful
they had left this to her.  It was conversation.

"Things haven't improved,"  Oz told her when she'd finished.
If he was at all fazed by his own experience, he didn't let on.

"I know."  Her voice was small, distant, bleak.

"I came back too soon."

She was quiet for a dozen heartbeats.  "Yeah."

"I'm sorry,"  he apologized.

Oz ... it's  ... I mean, I'm glad ... no, more than glad ... 
well, giddy almost ... knowing you're all right, but ..."

"But the wolf is still between us,"  he finished for her.

She nodded, tears falling from her eyes.  He brushed them away,
the awkwardness melting from between them as the truth of where
they stood with one another flowed between them.

With a last, long look at the high school, they moved on, heading
by mutual consent, but without words, toward Giles', toward
another parting.

"So, Spike can't kill people?"  Oz asked.

"Nope, the Initiative did some weird science on him and poof,
no more biting,"  she said happily.

"The commando guys?"

"...are the Initiative."

"And Riley Finn is part of it?"

"So was Maggie Walsh, the psych prof.  She um ... well, 
I can only hope her science fair projects in school turned 
out better."

"Does Angel know about Buffy and Riley?"

Willow shook her head.  "She..."

"Yeah,"  Oz said simply.  "How often are you glad you're not
the Slayer?"

Willow snorted.  "When am I *not* glad?"  she asked rhetorically.

They stopped in front of Giles' building.  Without words, Oz leaned
in and kissed Wil.  It was a gentle, tender, bitter moment.
Their lips touched, held, moved together in a shared memory.
They parted.  Oz stroked Willow's cheek softly.

"This is where I disappear into the ... afternoon,"  Oz told her.

She nodded.

His van was parked across the street.  He began to move toward it,
when she reached out for his hand.  He looked back at her, her 
tears cutting him to the quick.  She was as she had always been, the
girl he'd fallen in love with one night at the Bronze over two years 
before.  Where others had seen smart,  obsessively smart, a geek
through and through, he had seen her quirky brilliance, her amazing
sense of humor, her unending loyalty and careful consideration of
others.  He had seen an Eskimo,  wrapped up, hiding who she could
be and he had wanted to reveal her, to show the whole world what
he knew innately.  She was and always would be his heart's beat.

He grasped the hand that had brushed his and pulled her tightly
to him.  This kiss was deep, passionate.  He fought the rising
panic within him.  She was all he wanted, all he needed.
If only... 

"You're with me always, Wil,"  he pledged to her, placing her
hand over his heart.  "I carry you with me every moment."

She nodded through hear tears.

He held her again, feeling the strength of her heart against
his, feeling her breathing within the circle of his arms.  
Suddenly, he released her.  She said nothing, unable to
break her silence, unable to put into words what he knew
anyway.

He was gone.  His van slid down the street, wavering in the wash
of the tears that filled her eyes endlessly.

"Goodbye, Oz,"  she whispered.

*******************************************************************

THE MANSION
5:36 P.M.

"Sun'll be down soon,"  Angel commented.

Buffy nodded distractedly.

"Cordy, Wes, and I are leaving tonight,"  he added.

She nodded again, slowly, as if from a great distance.

"I'm thinking of playing third base for the Dodgers.  I know
the day games will be a real headache, but-"

"What?"  she asked, emotion breaking through at last.

He smiled at her as she turned around to look at him.  She stood
by the heavy velvet drapes that shut out the killer sun.  They
moved gently with the sway of her body, the rhythm of her
breathing.  They fluttered, dust motes glimmered, then vanished
in pale shafts of light that fell onto Buffy's blonde head and
slim shoulders.

"You're making me nervous,"  he said.

She looked blankly at him for a moment.  With a small smile,
she moved away from the curtains.  He sat still and waited
for her to be ready.  He'd been waiting all day, worried yet
resolved that he would tell her whatever she might ask.

They'd come back after leaving Giles'.  They'd walked slowly,
hands clasped, saying nothing, seeing the past in so many
dark corners and grimy alleys.  

Angel had looked down at her from time to time, his mind comparing
the woman who walked next to him, taking in the leaner planes of
her face, the tighter curve of her muscles and seeing, with
remorse, the girl she'd been.  Time had subtracted from her
more than it had added, more than it could ever add, more
than he could add no matter how much he ached to give her
increase.  

Each time she had noticed him watching her, she had smiled at
him.  Her smile caused his soul to tremble, finding in that smile 
only
the barest traces of its former carelessness.  If it would have
changed her life, without changing who she was, he'd have done
away with all of his kind, just to protect her.  But he knew
everything he saw, he saw because she was the Slayer, chosen
to carry these burdens so that no one else would have to.

Along Sunnydale's darkened downtown, they had walked.  The movie
theater, its marquee tattered, falling apart, mocked them with
memories of their last moments of bliss together, before Faith
melted out of a by-way and laid waste to their illusions.  He
had been able to hear the other Slayer, the rogue killer,
tease them, thrusting herself between them as he'd proven to
Buffy he could kiss her, hold her, *want* her without losing
control.

She'd shivered once, feeling the anomalous snow that had 
blanketed Sunnydale just fifteen months ago, giving her a
day with him, a day without sun, but warm and bright from
reconciliation, from the secure knowledge they were as one.
Past the magic shop, they'd gone, neither daring to observe
aloud that this was where Spike had reminded them that their
blood was cursed, cursed by one another with a love that burned
them, branded them, held them fast.  Forever.  And ever.
Amen.

Their path had led them past the high school again, where
memories, not of a few hours gone by assailed them, but by
so many other events they had shared.

Into the cemetery, their footsteps had wandered, past tombs
and crypts, graves fresh and old, past their own shadows,
allying, fighting, loving, hating, all around them.  Time
slowed, wove itself around and through them, catching them up,
reforming its pattern around them.

At the entrance to the mansion, she'd hesitated.  

He'd stopped and looked at her, waiting.  He could wait forever
for the things she needed in her life, for the things she needed
each and every moment.  

"Have you been...?"  his voice had trailed off.

"Been back?"  she'd asked.  She had shaken her head.  "Did you...?"

"No,"  he'd answered.  "Buffy?"

She'd looked up at him.

"We can go somewhere else."

She'd curved her lips ever so slightly.  "No, this makes sense."

Once inside, they'd looked around, neither saying anything for
a long while.  Near the fire place still lay the pewter jug
Buffy had crushed as Angel had fed on her.  If he'd listened 
closely, he'd still been able to hear her moans, the gasps
of pain, and what had sounded like the groanings of forbidden
pleasure.  She had stared at it.

"You brought me back,"  he'd said softly.

"I couldn't have let you die like that,"  she'd replied.

"You always bring me back,"  he'd added.

She'd looked at him in confusion.

"Your heart, Buffy.  Your love.  Your determination."  He'd
paused.  While he'd been trying to order his thoughts, to
marshal his feelings into some semblance of structure, she'd
walked into the other room, had stood facing what had been his
bed.

She'd ached with the memory of the night spent in his arms,
the last before her world rocked away from her, tilted
angrily, before spinning dizzily back into its proper sphere.
Almost.  Exhaustion had finally overwhelmed the adrenaline that
had kept her moving.  She'd lain down and he had followed her,
holding her as he had then.

"Do you know what happens, Buffy, when you let go?"  His question
had been rhetorical so he'd not waited for her answer.
"When you let go, when you free yourself of me, I am with you
all the more strongly.  Don't you know that?"

Only her soft, even breathing had greeted him.

"Let me go, Buffy, and I'll always be with you,"  he'd whispered,
kissing her hair tenderly.

She'd slept most of the morning and afternoon, and Angel had been
content to hold her, to watch her, to doze in the soft current of
his memories.  Somewhere in all of this, she had forgiven him
his furtive trip to Sunnydale in November.  Somewhere, deep
inside her, the undeniable reality hid, curled, darkened, yet
present.  He'd smiled gently, stroking her hair as she'd slept,
realizing that same love which had brought him from the depths of
hell defied the logic and power of the Oracles.  He'd felt as
though that which he'd lost had been returned to him in some
measure.

When she'd stirred at last, he'd seen a momentary look of guilt
cross her face.  With willful ignorance, he'd brushed her hair
from her face and kissed her softly.  There was someone else,
he'd known that from the first, but he'd also felt in her
the emotion that ran stronger and deeper, fed his own, 
fed *off* his own with fangs as sharp and as loving as his own
had been when they'd sunk into her flesh in this very edifice.

Through his days as Angelus, through her self-imposed exile
after she'd been forced to send him to that hell from which
he'd later emerged, she'd kept the ring he gave her, the 
claddaugh that symbolized his soul to hers.  Her dreams had
sustained him and held him there and only when she'd at last
let go of him, laid down finally, that ring, that symbol,
her heart had called out to him, pulled him back to her, back
to this world, back to the good fight.

Nothing could ever match that.  Nothing in this world or
any other.  

He'd smiled at her.  "Sorry, still no mirrors,"  he'd whispered.

She'd grimaced good naturedly at him.  Her gaze had been steady
on him.  After long, steady beats of her heart, she'd asked,
"Why did you come that night?"

He'd shrugged.  "It meant ... you've never been an ordinary
woman, Buffy.  The world  lays on your shoulders and you wanted
to let it tumble off for one evening.  You deserved to let it
look after itself for a few hours."

"You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to,"  he'd interrupted.  "And I wouldn't have missed
it for the world."

She'd risen after that, gone into the other room, where he'd 
followed her.  They'd talked about minutiae for a while,
peppered with long stretches of silence.  

Now she stood near the drapes and he waited.

"I'll be right back,"  she said suddenly.  She hurried past
him, out the door, into the sun.  He could only remember
how she looked, standing in the bright sunlight.  He sighed
with the ever-present knowledge that there was a part of her
he could never touch.

He didn't hear her come back, so far away was his mind.

"Xander may be able to see me in the daylight,"  she said from
behind him,  "but only you have ever been able to see into
the deepest part of my heart."

She'd stood in the waning sunlight for five or ten minutes,
judging it was getting on for late afternoon.  Soon they would
return to Giles' and Angel would leave her once again.  She'd
let what was left of the afternoon light roll down over her, fill
her in the simple ways she longed for.  She'd closed her eyes and
seen Angel, seen him striding out of the shadows to sweep her
into his arms.  She'd felt every fiber of her being fill with
an unbelievable, fantastic joy.  In one heart beat, she'd wanted
to know and in the next, she'd decided she couldn't bear it.
She'd returned to Angel.

"Buffy, you wanted to -"

"No,"  she said softly.  "Whatever it is, it was the ... best
part of my life ever.  I lost it once, this ... thing I can't
remember, only feel in the beating of my heart.  I can see it
in your eyes and that's enough."

"Are you sure?"  he asked slowly, gazing steadily at her.

She shook her head.    "But I will be."

He nodded at her.  Mutely, tears streaming down her face,
sealing the moment between them, she went to him as he stood up.
He wrapped his arms around her and held her as tightly as he
could.  He cupped her head in his hands and trailed his fingers
through her long hair as she wept against him.

She looked up at him.   He leaned down and kissed her, hard,
fierce, a kiss that would have to last him eternity.
She kissed him back, giving him that eternity, making him ache
for that heartbeat he'd given up.

"Been here, done this.  Right?"  she whispered as they drew
apart.

"Something like that,"  he affirmed with an achy smile.

"Whatever they are - these memories I'm not certain of -
keep them safe for me ... for us.  OK?"

"Every moment of every hour,"  he replied.

They kissed again, finding their way back to the couch
where they sunk down and held one another, lips meshed,
fingers entwined until his senses told him the sun was
beginning to sink beneath the weight of the western skies.  
The death of another day brought him to another night of 
existence, took him another twelve hours of darkness away from her, 
another seven hundred twenty minutes from what she made him,
another forty-three thousand two hundred seconds toward
all he had to make of himself.  

He began, once again, counting the time without her.

**************************************************************

RUPERT GILES' RESIDENCE
SUNNYDALE
7:28 P.M. - MARCH 25

Mulder turned the engine off.  He looked over at Scully.
She was pale, her hair glowing in contrast.  She'd brushed
it so it almost completely hid the white bandage covering the
gouges in her neck.  

"Scully?"  he asked.  "We can just go straight to the airport-"

She shook her head.  He didn't think she even realized her
fingers were running lightly, repeatedly over the gauze.

They sat quietly for a few minutes longer.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know -"  she swallowed hard.  "Um ... after last night ...
is there any chance...?"  Her voice trailed off.

Mulder's eyes jumped in worry.  He reached out and took her
hand, drawing her fingers from their incessant fretting over
the stark white fabric guarding her skin.  Softly, but firmly,
he assured her.  "No, no chance at all."

Biting her lower lip, she looked over at him, down at their
hands.  He watched a tear slide from the corner of her eye.
"How do you know?"  she whispered.  "He fed on me."

"Um ... Xander - I wanted to stop Angel, but Xander told
me it took more than a vampire feeding on someone."

Scully nodded.

"And - when the doctors were working on you, I asked Anya.
You would have to feed on him, before..."

Scully nodded again, still pale, trembling slightly.  She let
out a deep, shuddering breath.

"Why didn't you ask me before?"

She sighed.  Then she smiled at him, the shy smile he saw so
rarely.  "I ... didn't know what to think.  I mean, Mulder,
all this about vampires, werewolves, demons ... it's
incredible."  She paused.  "Besides, if I admitted I
believed even some of it, then I had to be ..."

"Scared?"

She smiled at him.

"I was terrified watching him last night.  Terrified he'd
kill you, make you like him.  Or that it wouldn't work and
that demon would destroy you."

She squeezed his hand lightly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mulder."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did.  This is just one more thing
you never would have gone through if it weren't for me,"  he
told her.

She shook her head.  "Whatever I've been through, whatever
you've been through, Mulder, whatever else may be coming,
I don't want to be anywhere besides with you."

"Are you sure, Scully?  If Spender figured out..."

"Mulder, what more can they do to us?"

"Scully!"  he exclaimed.

She interrupted him.  "All right, don't answer that.  The fact
is everything they've done, all the reasons we've ... I've
never ...  whether we say it or don't, whether we act on it or
don't, they'll still use what we feel against us."

She leaned over and kissed him lightly.

"The truth, Mulder, is no one has kept up apart as effectively
as we ourselves have."

He smiled at her and brushed away the tears that washed her cheeks.
She inclined her face into his hand.  "When did you get so wise?"
he asked.

She chuckled.  "Angel ...um ... 'pointed' a few things out to
me while we were stuck in that crypt."

"Yeah?  Like ...?"

"He told me some things about himself and Buffy."

"That whole curse thing?"

She nodded.

"Pretty bad, eh?"

"He loves her with ... everything he is and they truly can't be
together."  She stopped and Mulder watched the stars fade from
her eyes.  "If that whole curse is for real, that is."

Mulder groaned.  "Scuh-leee,"  he pleaded.

She smiled wickedly at him.

He laughed at her and kissed her.

"Let's go say our good-byes,"  she told him.

They walked up to Giles' front door.  Mulder's hand rested
in the small of her back.  He felt the familiar comfort that
motion brought him, but also a wonderful, new tingle of
possibilities, of a future to come.

Cordelia opened the door when Mulder knocked.  Cordy smiled
at them and invited them in.

"Agent Scully!"  Wesley called out.  "How are you?"

She smiled.  "I'll be fine,"  she assured everyone.

"Our plane leaves in a few hours and we came to say goodbye,"
Mulder explained.

"Good,"  Willow said.  "Oh, I don't mean - er, uh, I mean
it's great you're saying goodbye...no, I mean-"

"Wil,"  Xander said gently.  "Breathe."  He smiled at her.

She stopped and smiled back.

"We're glad we get the chance to say goodbye,"  Buffy clarified.

Willow nodded enthusiastically.

Mulder and Scully were both smiling brightly.

"Can we get you something?"  Giles asked, indicating with a
sweep of his hand the varied assortment of foods laid out
on the coffee table.

"Quite a spread,"  Mulder observed.

Through a mouthful of tortilla chips, Xander explained,  "Post-
save-the-World-from-Apocalypse-Slayage tradition."

"Yes, Giles always has excellent forms of sustenance!"  Anya affirmed
with glee.  Xander popped a chip into her mouth in reply.

As they made their way around the room, Mulder found a moment
alone with Buffy.

"Saved the world again, I guess?"  Mulder asked the blonde.

Buffy nodded with a smile.  "Another day, another apocalypse
averted."

"You know, if you ever want to branch out, give me a call.
I have a feeling the aliens wouldn't be much of a match
for you."

Her face grew serious.  "Is your partner all right, really?"

Mulder nodded.  "She'll be fine.  We've both learned a lot
in your little town."

"Well, Sunnydale can be highly educational,"  Buffy agreed.

For her part, Scully had sought out Angel.  As she approached,
he drew something out of his pocket.  She saw her cross dangling
from his hand.

"What-?"

"Seems you forgot about it."  He smiled at her.  "Buffy and I 
picked it up for you."

"But ... it would have been still light...he closes at-"

"He knows who Buffy is.  He made an exception,"  Angel explained.

Scully nodded, then became confused again.  "How did you
know where?"

"Xander and Anya had mentioned where they'd run into you yesterday.
Two and two.  You know if you'd had this last night, none
of this-"  he gestured to her neck,  "would have happened."

"Why not?  What exactly did you all do?"

"You think we did something to your cross?"  Angel teased her.

"And Mulder's phone,"  she responded.

"You're too skeptical, too scientific, to believe Willow put a
misguiding spell on them, right?"  His eyes twinkled at her and
she returned his good natured ribbing with a smile.

"Of course,"  she agreed with mock gravity.  She looked up at him.
"Thank you."

"For sending you to the hospital?"  he asked, his voice bitter
with recrimination.

"For saving my life,"  she answered him.

"I could have ended it,"  he responded.

"But you didn't,"  she said softly.  "I can only imagine how hard 
that
was for you, to do ... that.  But you gave me another chance,
at a lot of things."  She smiled up at him and glanced around to
find Mulder.

Angel smiled back at her as her gaze returned to his face.
"Don't waste it,"  he advised her.

"We won't,"  she promised.

"Scully!"  Mulder called out.  "We gotta get a move-on."

She raised her hand in acknowledgment.  She turned back to the
vampire and took his pale, cool hand.  "Stay out of the sun,"
she admonished him, grinning.

He laughed at her.  "Stay out of alien spaceships,"  he returned.

The agents left and shortly after, the Fang Gang exchanged
glances, indicating it was time to leave.  

Good-byes were said as everyone made their way to Angel's car.

"Man, this baby is something!"  Xander exclaimed.

Wes and Cordy launched into a description of their boss'
vintage car.  It gave Buffy and Angel, who hung back from the
others, a chance to say goodbye privately.

"I still can't believe Cordy works for you,"  Buffy remarked.

"Most days neither can I,"  Angel told her.

Buffy's eyes clouded and filled with tears as Angel embraced her.
She tilted her head up to meet his lips.  If sadness had 
taste it would have been the salt tang closing their throats.
If given form, it would have been the press of their lips 
together, a kiss out of time, saved only in the dim past, 
promised only in a dark, uncertain future.

He gazed down at her and brushed a strand of hair from her face.
"We've got to get back before sunrise."

She nodded.

There were no more words spoken between them.  Goodbye was not
part of their vocabulary for one another.  Instead she watched
him walk out of her life once more, into a life he'd made away
from her, and her heart cracked just a little more than it had
the day before, and the day before that one, and all the days
since he had come into her life at all.  And that same heart
healed ever so slightly in the knowledge that he was in the world,
his soul intact, his heart still hers.

The Scooby Gang stood and watched them drive away.

"Buffy, I'm terribly sorry-"  Giles began.

"I didn't ask him,"  she interrupted.

Giles stopped and stared at her, as did Xander and Willow.

Anya whispered to Xander, "Ask him what?"

Xander shook his head in reply.  He mouthed, "Later,"  a response
which did not please his contrary girlfriend, but one she
accepted with ill grace.

"Buffy -"

"Whatever it is, Giles, it's one more burden that I just can't
carry."

"But, Buffy,"  Willow protested, "what if it's ... you know ...
everything you ever wanted?"

Buffy looked at her, looked at Xander, who looked at the ground,
and then at Anya.  Then the Slayer looked at her Watcher (for
fired though he might have been, he would always be her Watcher;
the bond was forged of anguish, determination, loyalty, and 
love).  Buffy saw it in Giles' eyes.

She looked back down the street.  "It was, Wil.  I don't know
how or why, but I know it was.  And I know it's gone."

END