Title: When Belief is Awakened

Author: Moonshadow

Rating: PG (mild violence)

Spoilers: One Son

Classification: Crossover

E-mail: foo_fighter101@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: Chris Carter, Joss Whedon, Ten-Thirteen and Mutant 
Enemy own all these characters, and the actors Duchovny, 
Anderson, Gellar, Boreanaz, Hannigan, Brendon, Head, and Green 
(did I get 'em all?) brought all the characters to life.

Summary: BTVS/XF fic.  Mulder and Scully investigate an alarming 
death rate in a small town in California.  Can we guess what 
happens?

Author's Note: Okay, BTVS Meets TXF.  In my little world, Mulder 
and Scully are back on the X-Files (a la "One Son"), and it's 
probably sometime just after "Gingerbread" in Buffy's world.  The 
premise?  The gang gets a little visit from our favorite FBI 
agents.  I thought it might be fun to try to explain to Scully 
that vampires are *real*, and to have the person that explains it 
to her be someone other than Mulder.  


When Belief is Awakened
by Moonshadow

"Scully, have I got an assignment you're gonna love!"  Her 
partner came sauntering into their office--well, what she had 
come to think of as theirs, anyway, though it was denoted only by 
the amount of time she spent in it.

She scowled.  "I doubt it."  

"Come on.  Just look the file over," he wheedled.  "It's the dead 
of winter.  Don't tell me you're going to turn down a chance to 
go to California."  He always had to talk her into a case, at 
first.  Unsure himself if it was still necessary, after all these 
years, or if it had merely become habit, he sometimes wondered if 
she knew, either.

She pursed her lips, and he could actually see her weakening.  
"Southern California?"

"The temperature has been holding in the lower sixties all week, 
Scully," he coaxed, slipping the file across his desk toward her.

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable, and then took the 
file, perusing it.  "Sunnydale?  There's actually a town called 
Sunnydale?  Does Clark Kent's cousin originate from there?"

He didn't laugh.  "Note the death rate."

Her eyes widened.  "This can't be right, Mulder.  This makes D.C. 
look like . . . *Mayberry*.  According to this information, 
Sunnydale annually loses a good ten percent of it's population to 
violent death.  By . . . gangs on PCP?"  A town that size having 
such a wide-spread drug problem?  It just didn't click.

"Yet none of these supposed gang members have ever been 
apprehended," Mulder explained, skipping her ahead through the 
file, his voice brimming with boyish excitement.  "Look at the 
most common cause of death."

"Neck errupture?  I've never even *heard* of--"

"There's a good photo of one, right there."  He leaned across the 
desk to point out the picture.

Scully closed her eyes, and, coming very close to whining, said, 
"Mulder, I know what you think this looks like--"

"And it *doesn't*?"  Deciding to back away from that aspect for a 
moment, Mulder appealed to her logic.  "Come on, Scully.  The 
death rate and unsupported explanations alone warrant an 
investigation."

She glowered at him.  "Why hasn't it been investigated before 
this?"  A valid question.  The death rate in Sunnydale had been 
on the high side, but nothing too shocking, for years, only 
recently escalating into such alarming proportions, in the last 
three years.  But that was certainly enough time for someone to 
take notice.

"The mayor seems to be rather adept at manipulation, Scully.  I 
had a hell of a time getting approval for our own investigation.  
I think we're looking at some kind of cover-up."  His eyes 
gleamed with a boyish excitement.

Vampires and conspiracies?  No wonder he was so eager to go.

*****

"The local high school, Mulder?  What can you possibly hope to 
learn here?"  While the warm weather was already thawing her 
chilly mood, she saw no reason to let *him* know that.

"Well, if you look carefully at the list of victims of all this 
violent crime, a large percentage of them are students at this 
very high school.  And some pretty odd things have gone on here.  
Just this last spring, there was an interesting case of 
hybridized steroids being used by the swim team, and--"

"So drug use *has* been substantiated?" asked Scully as she got 
out of the rental.

He continued as if she hadn't spoken.  "There are also a few 
names that seem to end up on the police reports an awful lot.  
One of them is the high school librarian, one Rupert Giles.  He 
moved here from London--get this--about three years ago."

"When the escalated killings began?"  They entered the building 
and started looking for the library.

"I'm having the Gunmen do a little background check on him.  I'm 
not sure what it is about this one, but I can't seem to get *any* 
official help.  The boys got kind of excited when I mentioned 
Sunnydale, actually.  Apparently, a rather malicious hacker came 
out of here about a year and a half-ago, and then just sort of 
disappeared.  Byers also recognized two names from some of the 
incident reports; evidently they've been targeted by the 
government as recruits in the . . . less advertised pools of 
computer science specialists."

"Two high school kids?"

"Hackers.  Think Bill Gates as a teen, with the Internet 
resources of the Nineties.  Willow Rosenberg and Oswaph--" he 
broke in a grunt as a student, late for class, rounded the corner 
and brushed past him, mumbling his hurried apologies as he 
scurried off.  "Hey, wait!" Mulder called after the kid.

"What?"  The teenager turned around, still walking quickly--now 
backwards--as he waited for Mulder to go on.

"Where's the library?"

"Dude, you're standin' in front of it!" the boy called, and then 
took off around the corner.  Mulder looked to his immediate left 
and then, shrugging, looked at his partner with a sheepish grin.

Scully raised an eyebrow, and then pushed open the door to the 
library.

"Can I help you?" asked a tweed-clad man, just coming out of his 
office with a stack of papers and books.

Picking up on the English accent, Mulder took a wild stab.  "Are 
you Rupert Giles?"

"Er, yes, I am.  Is something wrong?"  He stopped dead in his 
tracks, all traces of distractedness gone.

Scully pulled out her badge, and her partner did likewise.  
"Special Agent Dana Scully.  This is Special Agent Fox Mulder.  
We're with the FBI.  We'd like to ask you a few questions, Mr. 
Giles."

His eyes widened, but he maintained his cool.  "Er, uhm, yes, of 
course.  Has something happened?"

Scully frowned.  He seemed remarkably calm.  Most people got 
upset when the federal government took an interest in them, but 
this man seemed almost resigned.  They started to sit down at the 
table when a voice called from the stacks.  "Giles?  I can't find 
*Yr Gwybodaeth Llyfr*--" the girl's voice broke off as she 
emerged from the back of the library and saw that the librarian 
had company.  "Oh!"  The redhead, dressed in a little-girl 
lavender and pink dress that clashed badly with her hair and pale 
skin, stopped short at the top of the stairs that led down to the 
main floor.  "Is something going on?"

"Willow, perhaps you should come back later," he told her, rather 
sternly, and gave her a significant look.

Mulder exchanged at glance with Scully.  How many "Willows" could 
there be in a small town?  "*Yr Gwybodaeth Llyfr*?"  Willow's 
eyes widened, and she shot a fairly panicked glance at Giles.  "I 
suppose you keep a lot of occult research material on hand in a 
high school library?"

Giles' eyes narrowed beneath his glasses.  "It's on loan from a 
library in Los Angeles, actually," he said smoothly.  "I kept it 
aside for you, Willow.  It's in my office," he nodded in that 
general direction.

"Yes!  I'm, uh, doing an extra-credit paper for my history 
class!"  Willow smiled brightly.  "It's an, uh, introspective on 
witches and warlocks--" She laughed nervously, retrieving the 
book.  "At least, people who *claimed* to be witches and 
warlocks, in ancient Wales."  She swallowed.  "Uh, I'll just take 
the book, and, uh, go study . . . somewhere else."  She 
practically fled the library.

*****

"I'm telling you, this is very, very bad!  Whoever it was *knew* 
what *Yr Gwybodaeth Llyfr* was!"  The frantic girl was pacing 
furiously through the student lounge.

"Calm down, Will," Xander told her, exchanging a glance with Oz.  
"Maybe they were Watchers, too."

"There are other Watchers?" asked Oz, mildly.

"There's a Council, in England," Willow told him, and then turned 
back to Xander.  "But they *didn't* look like Watchers.  They 
looked like cops or something."

"That's a good thing, right?  I mean, the cops in Sunnydale 
aren't exactly the brightest and the best," Oz pointed out, again 
mildly.

Willow shook her head sadly at her boyfriend.  "The cops *here* 
aren't, but I think these were government cops.  Like CIA or 
something."  

"Oh."  He popped a potato chip into his mouth.

Xander stood up, slinging his book satchel over his shoulder.  
"Well, let's go see.  But I'm sure everything's okay.  Giles is 
pretty good at dodging suspicion."

*****

"Okay, it was suspicious, I'll give you that, Mulder.  But I 
don't think he's a serial killer, either."

"Neither do I."  He stepped out into the sunshine.

"Then what *do* you think?  I didn't see any fangs on either him 
or the girl.  And it's daylight.  I thought vampires weren't 
particularly fond of the sun," she smirked.

"I don't think they were vampires, either.  I just think they 
*know* something about the vampires."  He glanced at her.  "Do 
you happen to know what *Yr Gwybodaeth Llyfr* is?  I'll give you 
a hint: in Gaelic, it means 'The Book of Knowledge.'"  She didn't 
react, just stared at him.  "Scully, the druids wrote it.  It's 
not supposed to exist anymore.  We're talking about the people 
who constructed Stonehenge, the most accurate celestial calendar 
ever built."  She didn't seem impressed.  "I also noticed some 
other interesting titles in our friendly librarian's collection: 
Hume's *Paranormal Encyclopedia*, something called a *Twilight 
Compendium*, *The Labyrinth Maps of Malta*?  It makes the library 
at Alexandria look like a . . . well, a high school library."

She rolled her eyes.  "Fine.  So, what's our next move?  We're 
going to stake out--" she shot him a look.  "Sorry, no pun 
intended," she said, lips twitching, and earned a silent, fake, 
laugh-nod from him.  "Are we going to hit the cemetery tonight?"  
She slid into her seat, closed the passenger door of the car, and 
waited for his response as he joined her.

"Ordinarily, I'd say yes."

"But?"

"But Sunnydale has twelve cemeteries."

She closed her eyes in defeat as he pulled away from the curb.  
"So what *is* our next move?"

"Well, City Hall, and then back here for our appointment with the 
principal.  Then, tonight, we're goin' dancing."  She glared at 
him.  He explained, "At a club where a lot of incidents take 
place.  A teen hangout in the warehouse district.  A lot of 
bodies are found in the alley behind it.  It's called the 
Bronze."
*****

"They were FBI agents.  A pair I had fervently hoped to never 
meet."  Giles was worriedly flipping through a binder labeled 
"Council Communiqu‚s" as the gang crowded around the table in the 
library after school that afternoon.

"You knew of them?" asked Buffy, interested.  Willow had filled 
her in on the story.

"Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.  They work in a division of 
the FBI called the X-Files.  Cases that are labeled unsolved--"

"So how come it isn't called the U-Files?" asked Oz.  Willow 
smirked down at him from her perch on his lap.

Giles continued as though he hadn't been interrupted.  "--Because 
of their unusual nature."

"Unusual in what way?" asked Buffy, impatiently.

"In a paranormal way."

"So that's why that man knew what *Yr Gwybodaeth Llyfr* was," 
Willow observed brilliantly.

"Yes.  Evidently.  The Council has been following their work for 
some years now."  His eyes widened as he spied something in the 
binder.  "Oh, dear.  Apparently, Agent Mulder uncovered a trio of 
vampire cultists here in California four years ago."  His eyes 
flicked across the page quickly, and he turned it, reading on.

"Cultists?  Like Buffy's friend from LA?" asked Xander, worried.  
That hadn't been a pretty sight.  A rather nasty one, as a matter 
of fact.

"Similar, but far more malicious.  They felt if they behaved like 
vampires, they could eventually become as such.  They succeeded, 
to a certain extent, through a rather unusual circumstance of--"

"Giles."  The Slayer raised her eyebrows pointedly at him.  "What 
did they want?"

"Oh, er, yes.  They are looking into the high, er, death rate of 
Sunnydale, and were rather interested in the recurring names on 
file with the police here."

"Oh, great.  I thought that murder charge last spring was bad, 
but at least those cops didn't know what they were dealing with," 
Xander muttered.

"So what do we do?" asked Willow, her voice small and high-
pitched with worry.

"We lie low, that's what," Buffy answered her, firmly.  "We go to 
the Bronze tonight, and pretend nothing is going on.  I'll leave 
early, to patrol a little--"

"Buffy, I believe it would be best if you didn't patrol while the 
agents are in town."

"But, Giles--!"

"If you are seen by them, it will be far more difficult to 
explain yourself than it has been with the Sunnydale police 
force.  No one has been slated to rise in the next few days, so 
the cemeteries should be clear.  Since the First was defeated, 
there has been little paranormal activity in Sunnydale.  There is 
every indication that we're heading into a dry spell, of sorts.  
Without a leader, the vampires are going to concentrate on the 
Bronze as an easy target, in any case."  He turned to Willow.  
"I'll watch Oz tonight.  I have some work to do here, in any 
case, and I do think that it would be best to avoid any questions 
about your whereabouts tonight."  

Buffy nodded, reluctantly.  "Okay.  Sounds like a plan.  I'm 
getting kind of antsy, though.  I haven't had a kill in over a 
week."

*****

"How do you know?" asked Buffy later that night, sipping at her 
drink, not overly concerned, as she scanned the crowded nightclub 
with half an eye.

"It's like if someone went through your locker.  I can tell if 
someone's been messing with my hard drive," Willow explained, 
loftily, then turned sheepish.  "I wouldn't have known if I 
didn't have a little watchdog program that Oz helped me design," 
she admitted.  "They probably didn't even know it was there, 
`cause they covered their tracks really well, otherwise.  Whoever 
it was really knew what they were doing."

"Why would anyone want to access a high schooler's hard drive?" 
asked Xander, frowning.

"Well, that's the problem.  The files that I had protected, the 
ones that they broke into, were all in reference to witch stuff, 
werewolf stuff, and even some vampire stuff.  Like Angel's 
restoration.  I copied a lot of stuff from Miss Calendar's files, 
early last spring, so I could access it again if we ever needed 
to . . ." she looked upset.

"Which we did, Will.  If you hadn't pulled off that restoration 
spell, I think Angel--well, Angelus, would have defeated me."  
The Slayer's eyes looked haunted for a moment, then she shook 
away the memories.  "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But now somebody knows about all that stuff!" she wailed, not at 
all comforted.

"Don't worry.  I doubt anyone would take it seriously," Xander 
consoled her, stopping himself from reaching out to touch her 
arm, as he would have without thinking twice about it, only a few 
short months ago.  "Just some crazy teenaged girl who gets a 
little caught up in her Anne Rice novels, right?"  Then he 
frowned.  "Were you able to figure out *who* hacked into your 
computer?"  Both girls looked at him.  "What?!  I pay attention 
when you and Oz talk.  Besides, didn't you ever see *Sneakers*?  
You can trace anything nowadays."

Willow shrugged.  "Oz and I were online just before we had to 
lock him up for the night.  We were able to narrow it down to the 
upper East Coast, nothing more specific."

Xander straightened, spying someone behind the girls.  "Angel!  
What's up?"  The ancient vampire had been less reluctant to come 
in contact with Buffy since that whole thing with the First, but 
still only ventured into public when absolutely necessary.  "Let 
me guess.  The dry spell is over, and it's about to start raining 
cats and dogs."

"Buffy," he said, nodding at the other two, as they all turned 
toward his approaching figure.  "I just came from Willie's."

Her eyes narrowed.  "I *knew* with all this quite that something 
was up!  What's going on?"

"The brethren have been scattered since the loss of Spike and 
Drusilla and, well, me.  But one of them has decided to take a 
fledgling leadership.  He isn't more than five years undead, and 
not too bright. But they're determined to get your attention.  I 
think they're going to start attacking in force--" His head 
jerked up.  "Someone's in the back alley, screaming for help," he 
informed them, his enhanced hearing coming in rather handy as he 
continued, "and there's more than one vampire out there."

*****

"And that one is Alexander Harris," said Mulder, sotto voice, 
showing his partner the yearbook picture and pointing him out at 
the table with his friends.

"Rosenberg, Harris, and Summers have all been involved in a lot 
of these strange occurrences, though they're rarely around when 
an `errupture' occurs," Scully recapped, warming to this 
investigation a little.  "Do we know who that man is?" she asked, 
relying on Mulder's photographic memory to recognize the young 
man who had just approached the table, and was speaking covertly 
to the three teenagers.

"He wasn't in this yearbook anywhere," he replied, frowning, 
moving out of the shadows under the metal stairway to try to get 
a better look.

Scully grabbed his arm.  "Wait!  They're getting up."

The small blond girl, Buffy Summers, was rushing toward the back 
of the club, digging in her purse as she went.  The others 
followed quickly on her heels, and Scully's eyes widened as she 
saw the other girl, Willow Rosenberg, pull a largish wooden cross 
out of the pocket of her overalls as she scurried.  "Isn't she 
Jewish?" Scully asked as they followed at a discreet distance.

"According to her file," he affirmed, his eyes alight with 
excitement.

When the agents emerged in the back alley, a severe fracas was 
underway, with Summers and the unidentified man in the middle of 
it all, kicking and fighting off attacks as though they'd been 
doing it all their lives.  The man was literally picked up and 
thrown nearly ten feet by an assailant, falling against a 
dumpster.  In the dark it was hard to tell, but Scully thought 
there was something odd about the faces of the five men now 
focusing their attack on the girl.  

"Angel!" Summers cried as the man slumped to the ground next to 
the dumpster.  Scully blinked hard as he struggled to his feet, 
for the most part unharmed by the fall, and threw himself back 
into the fight.  As he leapt on one of the men, his face . . . 
changed.  And he roared; not a roar of fury or rage, but an 
animalistic roar, something completely inhuman.  A sound a person 
was simply not capable of making.  

All of this happened in the space of a few seconds, and the two 
agents quickly drew their weapons, while Mulder pulled out his 
cell phone to call for backup.  Summers caught sight of them at 
that moment.  "Will!  Get them out of here!"

Their attention was drawn to the redheaded teenager who was 
holding a terrified girl about her own age with one arm, the 
cross bared before her in the other, trying to squeeze past the 
battle with her charge.  "Oh, God!  Xander, help me!  That's 
*them*.  The FBI agents!" she yelled, and Harris appeared at her 
elbow, holding out his own cross as one of them men tried to 
intercept them, and they watched as the assailant jumped away as 
though the cross might burn him.  Rosenberg passed the girl to 
Harris, and raced over to the agents before they could even 
blink.  "Don't call anyone!" she begged, tugging on Mulder's arm.

"Get inside.  We'll take care of this," Scully told her, taking 
aim for one of the men attacking Summers, taking a breath to 
shout a warning.

"No, you *can't*," she insisted, knocking Scully's arm down.

"Those guns aren't gonna do any good," Harris agreed, dragging 
the swooning girl toward them, now at a safe distance from the 
fray.  "Do you have any more stakes?" he asked Rosenberg.

"Here.  Be careful," she said, handing him three pointed wooden 
dowels, keeping a fourth in her hand along with the cross, and 
watched him dive back into the fray, tossing one of the dowels to 
Summers and another to the other man with the changed face.

Scully looked back at the fight, and realized there were now only 
four attackers, plus Summers and her fighting companion.  "Where 
did the other one go?" she asked Mulder, sweeping the alley, her 
gun at the ready.  

One of the remaining four chose this moment to charge those on 
the sidelines, just as Harris shouted a warning.  "Will!  Watch 
out!"

Mulder trained his gun at the approaching man, and yelled, 
"Federal Agent!  Stop where you are or I will shoot!"  He then 
fired into the man's shoulder once, and when it didn't even slow 
him down, he aimed for a more lethal area, and then started to 
back up when even a direct hit in the man's chest failed to halt 
him.  

"Body armor!" Scully swore under her breath.  Harris was now hot 
on the man's heels.  The man's face came into the light for a 
moment, and Scully felt a cold stab of pure fear go through her 
as she got a good look.  Whatever this thing was, it wasn't 
human.  A series of bony ridges covered it's forehead, making a 
V-shape across the brow to the bridge of it's nose.  Rosenberg 
pressed the cross into Mulder's hand and breathed, "Whatever 
happens, stay *back*," before moving swiftly toward the 
approaching . . . creature, the stake raised in a offensive 
posture.  The agents were too stunned to move, watching the scene 
unfold with a sick sort of fascination.

Harris leapt onto the thing's back, and it howled in rage, that 
same inhuman howl Scully had heard before, almost like a great 
cat snarling, and bared it's fangs, it's eyes glittering darkly 
as Harris pinned it's arms back.  "Now would be a good time!" he 
said, and the girl let its own forward momentum plunge the stake 
into its left breast; she grimaced, and stepped back quickly.  
The creature . . . exploded beneath the teenager, scattering dust 
and ashes all over him as he fell to the ground in a heap.  

Mulder grabbed Scully's arm, directing her stunned gaze back to 
the main battle just in time to see the young blond girl deliver 
a series of bone-crushing roundhouse kicks to the thing she was 
fighting--the only one left.  The others had apparently fled (in 
a blind alley, where the agents were blocking the only street 
access?)--And then suddenly she produced a stake in her hand, 
apparently from up her sleeve.  It snarled, and ducked under her 
first attempt to plunge the pointed stick into its chest, and 
delivered a hard blow to her midsection, one which should have 
felled her easily, cracking several ribs in the process.  But 
didn't.  She landed on her back, and immediately swiveled her 
legs around to throw her body upright once again.  Vaguely, 
Scully made a mental note to learn how she'd done that.  

She jumped straight up into the air, launching herself over her 
foe's head in a front tuck, and landing squarely on her feet as 
the two FBI agents watched in utter shock.  The attacker, now the 
attacked, whirled, surprised, and Summers made a "tsk" noise, and 
gave it a mock pout.  "You picked a *really* bad night to pounce, 
pussy cat," she told it, grinning, before plunging the stake into 
its heart with practiced ease and the same results Rosenberg had 
experienced moments before.  She didn't even pause to catch her 
breath before leaning down to pull her friend to his feet, and 
Scully noticed, as his face came into the light, that it had 
returned to normal.  He looked like a completely normal human, if 
a pale one.  "You okay, Angel?"

Mulder exchanged a glance with his partner, and they both turned 
to Rosenberg, who was helping Harris to his feet.  "Would someone 
like to explain what just happened?" he asked, and all four 
turned toward the agents, exchanging their own concerned glances.

"Giles?" the redhead whispered to her shaken friend, but Scully 
caught the exchange.

"We already know Mr. Giles is involved in this somehow, Miss 
Rosenberg," she said sternly.

Summers walked forward, meeting the woman's eye evenly, her 
slight frame somehow intimidating.  "You have no idea what you're 
dealing with, Agent Mulder."

Mulder grinned.  "I'm Mulder, she's Scully."

Xander, in a barely audible aside to the taller man beside him, 
said, "I would have though *she'd* be the one with the name 
`Fox,' how `bout you?"  He received a withering glare from all 
three of his companions for his trouble.

Mulder stifled a grin.  " . . . And I think we have a better idea 
than you think, Miss Summers.  Those were vampires, were they 
not?"

The man she'd addressed as Angel blinked then carefully schooled 
his face back into a mask of indifference.  "Are you going to 
charge us with something?" he asked, as the four closed ranks 
with each other.

"I don't see that you've done anything wrong, Mr. . . . Angel?  
You appear to have saved this young woman here," he nodded at the 
insensate girl propped up against the side of the building, where 
his partner was now kneeling, assessing the damage, "from a 
grisly fate.  She seems to have suffered the beginnings of what I 
believe you call a `neck errupture,' here in Sunnydale.  I think 
we should probably take her to the hospital--she seems to have 
experienced some blood loss."  He paused.  "On the other hand, 
you and Miss Summers here seemed to display an amazing amount of 
strength a few moments ago.  There seems to be a big drug problem 
here in Sunnydale, you know--lots of gangs on PCP."  Summers 
winced at his sweetly dry tone.  "I'd like to bring the two of 
you in, have some blood drawn.  Just to be thorough, of course."

Angel's shoulders drooped, knowing that even if he and Buffy 
could dodge and outrun the agents, Willow and Xander didn't stand 
a chance.  He wasn't willing to leave this on them, just to save 
his own ass.  "What do you want, Agent Mulder?"

"Just the truth," he answered sincerely.

"You won't believe the truth," said the young man, somewhat 
wearily.

"You might be surprised," he retorted.

Rosenberg spoke up.  "He might, Angel, especially considering 
what they just saw.  They're FBI people.  I guess they have a 
division just for really weird stuff.  We kind of caught their 
attention.  That's why they're here."

Scully looked at her sharply.  "How do you know so much about us, 
Miss Rosenberg?"

She exchanged glances with her friends, and took a deep breath, 
apparently deciding to trust her.  "It's Willow, Agent Scully.  
And that's part of a very long story."

"I'd like to hear it, Willow," said Mulder.  "But not until we 
get this woman to the hospital."

Willow motioned to Xander.  "We'll take care of it."  They had 
lots of experience cleaning up such messes, and remaining 
somewhat out of the limelight.  If the agents went to the 
hospital with the girl, they'd have to file a report.

"Okay.  Meet us at Giles' place--" Buffy broke off.  "Oh, God, 
Giles isn't at home, is he?"

Willow, in the process of helping Xander pick up the nearly 
unconscious girl, dropped her feet and whirled.  "Oz!" she cried.

Angel looked up at the moon.  "The moon isn't full until 
tomorrow," he said, frowning.  Scully raised an eyebrow.

Willow shook her head.  "Tonight, tomorrow night, and the next 
are all in the danger zone.  Oz is rather . . . cranky, tonight," 
she said, shooting a cautious glance at the agents.

"Oswald Green?" asked Mulder.  "We'd actually like to speak with 
him, as well."  Xander started to laugh, and got an elbow in his 
stomach for his trouble.  "Is that a problem?"

"I don't think he's really in the mood to talk tonight, Agent 
Mulder," Buffy said carefully, chewing on her lip.

Scully closed her eyes, becoming fed up with these games.  "Let 
me guess," she began, sarcastically, looking up at the nearly 
full moon.  "He's a werewolf."  Dead silence greeted her 
statement.  "Oh, brother," she muttered, turning away to flip 
open her cell phone to call an ambulance.

*****

"Buffy!  Angel!  What's--" the Watcher broke off as he saw the 
entourage his Slayer and the soulful vampire were heading.  He 
stood quickly, blocking their view of the cage in the library.  
"Now is not really a good time for guests," he said, smiling, 
through clenched teeth.

Mulder was already pushing past him, despite the librarian's best 
efforts to dissuade him.  "Oh, my God," he whispered reverently, 
catching sight of the man-sized furry creature safely behind the 
steel door.  "That's Oswald Green?  It's *true*," he breathed.

Willow looked up at Giles, sheepishly.  "Don't ask."

Soon they were in deep conversation with the Watcher, and Angel 
drifted away from the group for a moment when he heard Mulder's 
cellphone ring.  The agent, apart from the rest of them with his 
partner (who was staring in fascination at the animal that was Oz 
as he snarled at her), answered his phone.  "Frohike?  No, I 
don't have access right now--er, wait, hang on," he said, and 
lifted his head to glance at the group.  Angel slipped back into 
the group as though he hadn't been eavesdropping, then moved 
closer once again as soon as Mulder turned away.  

The agent turned the computer monitor on the counter to face him, 
and pulled the keyboard around.  "I've got one.  Looks like . . . 
a T-1 cable hook-up," he began, fiddling with the mouse.  "Yeah, 
go ahead and mail it all.  The FBI server can handle it."  There 
was silence for a few moments, and then Mulder's mouth was 
falling open.  "Scully!" he hissed.  She tore herself away from 
the cage to come look at the computer screen.  "What on earth is 
a Hellmouth?" he spoke into the phone.

Oops.  Angel turned back to the group.  "Guys?  I think we have a 
problem."  They all looked at him, and he merely pointed at the 
computer screen across the room.

Willow crept up behind the agents, who were engrossed in the 
material displayed there, and let out an indignant cry when she 
got close enough to see what they were looking at.  "Hey!  Those 
are my files!"

Mulder wheeled around.  "Uh . . ."

"*You* hacked into my computer?  That is *illegal*, Mr. FBI, and 
I'll have you know that--"

Angel, his lips twitching, exchanged a glance with Buffy before 
interfering.  "Actually, I think it was whoever is on the other 
end of that phone," he told her, wanting to see just what she was 
going to do about it.

She snatched the phone away from the stunned agent.  "Who the 
hell is this?" she asked.

"Who's this?  Where's Mulder?" replied the gravelly voice on the 
other end.

"This is Willow Rosenberg, and your friend is right here.  Now 
who are you?"  Her voice was hard and indignant, angry, and not a 
little intimidating.

Scully, exchanging a glance with Mulder, shrugged, and leaned 
forward.  "His name is Frohike."

"Frohike?" she sneered into the cell phone.  "And you're the one 
who broke into my computer?"

"Goddammit, Langly, I told you this kid was smarter than that!  
She must have had some kind of--" the gravelly voice said, 
slightly muffled.

"Shut up!  You broke into my hard drive, and I want to know why!"  
They'd rarely seen her this angry, and it was a sight to behold.  
Xander was very glad she wasn't mad at him, this time.

"Uh . . . you're not gonna work some kind of witch mojo on us, 
are you?" came another voice, nasal and flat.

"Can it, Langly," Frohike growled.

"I just might!" Willow argued, furious.  She saw Scully out of 
the corner of her eye, reaching for the keyboard.  "And you!  
Back away from the computer before I sick my boyfriend on you!" 
she shouted, pointing at the cage where Oz was flinging himself 
against the door, picking up on the tension in the room.  Scully 
jerked her hands away from the keyboard.

Xander, realizing this wasn't exactly helping their case with the 
G-people, was creeping up behind her as she continued to rant at 
the unseen Frohike, and grabbed her, taking the phone from her 
and handing it back to it's owner.  "It's okay, Will.  Just calm 
down."

"I will *not* calm down!" she cried, struggling.  "They broke 
into my COMPUTER!"

"Willow!" Giles' voice broke in sharply, and she stopped 
struggling immediately, suddenly shamed into submission.  "That's 
better," he said, more gently.

Mulder stepped forward, having folded up the phone and replaced 
it in his jacket pocket.  "I'm sorry I had someone break into 
your computer, Willow," he said softly. *What is it with 
redheads?* he thought privately, stealing a glance at his 
partner.  He turned to the rest of the group.  "But it's already 
done.  And, according to my sources," ignoring Willow's indignant 
"HA!" to continue his line of reasoning, "there appears to be a 
very valid reason for the high death rate in Sunnydale, one that 
has very little to do with drugs."

Xander, deciding it was safe to release his hold on Willow, 
shrugged.  "Oh, I don't know about that.  Last year, the swim 
team--"

"Xander," Giles warned.

Soon they were all seated around the table.  "Those were vampires 
we saw tonight.  Scully, even you can't deny that," Mulder began.  
She was silent.

Buffy nodded slowly.  "Okay.  Yes, they were vampires.  Why do 
you care so much, anyway?  It's not like you can do anything to 
help."

"A couple of teenagers and a librarian are better equipped to 
deal with this, I suppose?"  The man was clearly skeptical, not 
to mention a little disgusted with the only other adult in the 
room, at whom he was currently glaring nastily.

Giles sighed, defeated.  "I'm afraid so.  You see, I'm not an 
ordinary librarian."

"No.  He's a Super-Librarian!" Xander broke in, unable to resist.  
"Sorry," he recanted sheepishly after receiving seven glares, 
accompanied by continued snarling from the cage.

"I'm a Watcher.  Part of a group of men and women, which has 
existed for centuries to try to control the heinous and very real 
threat of vampires.  In this time, I am assigned to the Slayer."

"Slayer?  Is that this guy here?"  Mulder nodded at Angel, taking 
in his physical stature, and probably recalling the fight he'd 
witnessed earlier.  Xander choked, and started coughing hard.  
Willow clapped him on the back, a small smile coming across her 
face.

Buffy looked annoyed.  "No.  It's me.  I'm the Slayer."

"In every generation a Slayer is Chosen.  One with the ability to 
defeat these demons of Hell."  He met the slightly younger man's 
eyes firmly as he spoke.

Mulder raised an eyebrow in a good imitation of his partner, who 
was choosing to remain silent.  "So, what, you just fight 
vampires for fun?  I know some teenagers are into blood sports, 
but--"

"I don't really have a choice, Agent Mulder.  I have the power, 
and I can't just *not* use it.  I've tried," she added softly.

"And Oswald Green there is a werewolf?"

Willow, back to her calm self, shrugged.  "He got bitten."

"I see.  And you're a witch?"

She shrugged again.  "I dabble."  She frowned at the expression 
on his face, and then sighed and rolled her eyes.  "Do you have a 
pencil?"

He patted down his pockets, then turned to Scully, who wordlessly 
handed him a pen.  "Will this do?" he asked, holding it out.

She didn't take it.  "Put it in your palm," she instructed, and 
closed her eyes for a moment.

Giles' eyes widened.  "Willow, I don't think--"

"Shh!" Buffy admonished her Watcher.  "Don't break her 
concentration."

Mulder watched her in fascination as Willow chanted softly under 
her breath, and the pen began to float off his palm.  "Scully!" 
he whispered.  She reached out a finger to touch it gingerly.  It 
wobbled slightly.  Willow opened her eyes and grinned widely.  
The pencil started to spin slowly, end over end.  Scully was 
waving her hand in the air above, below, and to the sides of the 
suspended pen, unable to find any reason for it's floatation.  
Finally, scowling, she snatched it out of the air and re-pocketed 
it.  Willow's smile faded.  Mulder frowned.  "And you?" he went 
on, turning to Angel.  "You . . . aren't quite like the rest of 
us, either, are you?"

Xander spoke up.  "He's a vampire, but a good guy."  He earned a 
surprised look from the vampire in question, and shrugged, but a 
significant look passed between the two.

"There are good vampires and bad vampires?" asked Mulder, 
clarifying.  

Giles broke in.  "The vampires here in Sunnydale aren't of the 
variety you encountered some years ago, Mr. Mulder."  At Mulder's 
shocked expression, Giles smiled.  "Oh, the Council of Watchers 
has kept an eye on you for several years now.  You see, we were 
rather concerned about this very thing occurring: the two of you 
coming to Sunnydale to investigate."

"I'm not going to make life difficult for you, Giles," Mulder 
reassured him.  "I can see that you perform a valuable service 
here.  I have no intention of interfering with that.  But I would 
like to know more about it.  I encountered a *different* kind of 
vampire?"

Buffy shrugged.  "They were normal people, just vampire 
wannabes."

Angel picked up the narrative.  "To become one of the brethren, a 
vampire must bite you and taste your blood.  As your lifeblood is 
drawn from you, you must taste the blood of your sire.  As you 
die, your soul is lost.  When you awaken, a demon has taken over 
your body and memories."

"So you're actually a demon, without a soul, who just happens to 
be a good guy?"  Mulder realized just how glib he sounded, but 
this was getting a little beyond his own nearly boundless ability 
to believe.

Angel's eyes became distant, cold and unfeeling, and he began to 
speak in a sort of dream-like voice.  "For a hundred years, the 
demon inside of me controlled me.  One night, I fed off a gypsy 
girl, and her family sought revenge.  They sought to punish me 
with everlasting torment, and so restored my soul."

"And this was a punishment?"  Mulder was clearly confused.  He 
kinda thought having a soul was a *good* thing.

Angel raised his eyes to meet Mulder's, showing him the anguish 
that rested daily in his heart.  "Do you know what it is to have 
killed someone?  Not a serial killer, or a criminal who would 
have gone on to hurt people, but an innocent, unsuspecting human 
being?  To kill their children, slowly and painfully, to feel 
glee at the horror you've incited before you finally kill them, 
too?"  His eyes cut to the Watcher for barely an instant, but the 
other man wasn't looking at him, instead watching Mulder's 
reaction, though Mulder saw a muscle ticking in his jaw.  "To 
know that you've killed and tortured people you once *cared* for, 
and suddenly do again?  To *know* that even if they could forgive 
you, you do not deserve to be forgiven?  I have more than a 
century's worth of memories like that, Mr. Mulder.  And I'd say 
the punishment fits the crime."  

His throat worked for a moment.  "A . . . while ago, I lost my 
soul again.  The demon was once again in control.  The elders who 
had conjured my punishment also planned this.  That if I ever 
achieved a moment of true happiness, of absolute contentment, if 
the suffering they'd caused me to endure were to be alleviated," 
Mulder noticed both Giles' and Xander's faces darken, their jaws 
harden and their eyes take on identical looks that he'd seen in 
the eyes of Scully's brother Bill, when they'd first met, "that 
my soul would once again be lost.  I became the thing I'd once 
been.  All the more deadly and evil for the knowledge I'd gained 
over the intervening years.  And I used that knowledge to hurt 
the people that I'd cared--that I *do* care--for the most.  And 
all the while, I was trapped inside, unable to stop what I was 
doing, unable to even turn away from it, because it was *me*.  
And the whole time I wished I could die.  And knew that the demon 
would not allow it."  He raised his eyes to meet Mulder's once 
again.  "I'd say it was a pretty perfect punishment, wouldn't 
you?"

Buffy's eyes were wet as she reached out her hand to tightly 
squeeze his.  Scully spoke up at this point.  "Let me get this 
straight."  She pointed to Willow.  "You think you're a witch."  
Her gaze fell upon Oz.  "And he's supposed to be a werewolf.  You 
are a century-old vampire, but a *good* vampire."

"Two and half centuries, actually," Giles interjected, warily.  
Buffy opened her mouth to correct him, recalling Angel's four 
months in Hell (which had aged him centuries, due to the Narnia-
like effect of time there), but decided against it.

Scully swiveled her head to face the Watcher.  "And you are 
dedicated to helping a little girl fight all these vampires."

"Little girl?" Buffy protested indignantly.  Was this woman 
blind?  Had she seen *nothing* tonight?

Mulder frowned.  "Scully, you saw everything I did tonight.  You 
saw the *faces* on those things, you saw them . . . die.  You saw 
Buffy *kill* at least one of them, in a fight she couldn't 
possibly have won if she really were an ordinary `little girl,'" 
he admonished, shooting the "little girl" an apologetic smirk.  
"You *saw* Willow float that pencil just now.  And Green--"

Scully glared at her partner.  "I *saw* very little, Mulder.  It 
was very dark in that alley, and what you *think* you saw--and 
what I *might* have seen--could be explained by any number of 
things.  As for Willow, here, we've seen things like this before.  
Matter being manipulated by human thought.  Robert Modell comes 
to mind.  If she needs to believe it's magical in some way in 
order for her to deal with it, that's her business."

"Hey!" cried the witch in question.

"Show her Amy," Xander muttered under his breath, and whimpered a 
little when he received a Slayer-sharp kick under the table.

Scully ignored both of them, nodding toward the book cage.  "As 
for that animal--"

Giles stood up, clearly angry.  "Stop.  You wanted to know the 
truth, Miss Scully, and we are attempting to provide you with 
that.  What is it going to take to prove to you--"

"Mr. Giles, you can't seriously expect me to believe that a young 
girl of Buffy's size and weight is *capable* of battling a full-
grown man, in hand to hand combat . . ."

Buffy shrugged.  "Actually, people are easy.  When a vampire 
rises, though, it's far stronger than a human is.  Then again, so 
am I."

"And that this young man sitting here," Scully went on, ignoring 
the testimony, "is a two-hundred-and-fifty year old vampire?  If 
you were me, would *you* believe your story?"

Giles opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it.  "Actually, I 
don't know, Miss Scully.  I've been prepared for my destiny since 
I was a small boy.  I don't know how I would have reacted if I'd 
learned all of this as an adult."

Willow spoke up.  "I know how you feel," she said softly.  
"Xander and I didn't believe at first, either.  But one of our 
friends' got turned into a vampire.  It kind of convinces you 
pretty fast when someone you've known since grade school all of a 
sudden wants to kill you."  She looked to Buffy.  "But you're 
having a hard time believing Buffy is a Slayer, right?  You and 
Agent Mulder know how to fight, right?  You're trained to disarm 
suspects and stuff like that, aren't you?"

Giles broke in warningly.  "Willow, I don't think that's such a 
good idea--"

"Why not?  She trains with you all the time, Giles."

"But he wears protective gear, Will," Buffy explained.  "And he's 
also used to it.  I don't want anyone to get hurt."  But she was 
looking at Mulder calculatingly.

"Fine, then.  Just show them a few moves, throw a couple of 
knives or something--oh."  She glanced at the cage where the 
weapons were kept, occupied with a hundred and fifty pounds of 
snarling beast, just dying to get out and play.  "Never mind."

"No, Willow, it's actually not a bad idea.  Giles, you keep some 
stuff in your office, too, don't you?" asked Xander, smiling a 
little.

They pushed aside the table, leaving a large space in the pit 
open.  A target was pinned up, and Buffy stood twenty feet from 
it.  "Everybody stand well away," Scully instructed, glancing 
warily at the large knife the girl held confidently in her grasp.

"You don't really have to.  She *never* misses," Willow told her, 
grinning a little.

Buffy flung the knife, and it landed dead in the center of the 
target.  "Convinced?" she asked.  At Scully's silence, she 
sighed, and grabbed another knife off the checkout counter.  
"Pull it out," she instructed, and Giles began to tug on it.  She 
sighed.  "Angel, could you help him?" she asked, and the vampire 
waited until the Watcher gave up before stepping forward and 
yanking the knife out with a quick, upward movement.  Buffy took 
five more steps backward, and then fell into a forward roll, 
following through with a sharp release of the knife, which sailed 
end over end to embed itself in the center of the target, in the 
same groove the last throw had created.  "One more?" she asked, 
nodding at Angel, who tossed her the first knife, which she 
caught effortlessly in her left hand.  She turned her back as 
Angel removed the second knife, and she casually flung the lethal 
weapon over her shoulder, with the same result.

She turned back to face the group.  Willow was grinning ear to 
ear.  "Too bad we can't get at the crossbow.  You know that thing 
Kevin Costner does in *Robin Hood*, where he splits the arrow?  
She can *do* that."  Scully still looked skeptical.

Buffy's eyes had a dangerous glint to them, and Angel, 
recognizing it easily, stepped forward as she casually grabbed a 
blunted stake and began to return to the group.  "Buffy," he 
warned, looking to Giles for help.

"Agent Mulder, you look like you could hold your own in a fight," 
she said, smiling sweetly, innocently.

His eyes widened, and he put up both hands.  "Ordinarily, I'd say 
yes . . ."

Buffy turned to Scully.  "Would you say he's a good example of a 
`full grown man,' Agent Scully?"  

"Buffy!" Giles broke in sharply, taking a cautious step toward 
her.

"Don't worry, Giles.  I'll be gentle," she said, and launched 
herself at Mulder.  

*****

"Okay, I believe you," Scully said, helping her dazed partner to 
his feet.  "Are you okay, Mulder?"

"I'm fine," he rasped, leaning heavily on her, rubbing his 
bruised chest, just over his heart.  "Ever consider a career as a 
pro wrestler?" he asked.

Buffy didn't look amused.  "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder.  I didn't 
mean to hurt you . . ."

He shook his head.  "Please, don't apologize.  I'm already gonna 
get hell from my partner here for *years* to come about this." 

Scully shook her head.  "I'm a little confused.  Mulder threw you 
off of him at the beginning.  You hit the floor hard, and then 
jumped right up like nothing had happened."

Buffy shrugged.  "I don't bruise easily.  It's a Slayer thing.  I 
can also wake up fresh and chipper the morning after a really 
late patrol.  It comes in handy."

Mulder gave his partner a worried look.  "You're not gonna make 
Angel prove he's really a vampire, are you?  `Cause I'm gonna 
strongly object to that--"

"Actually, I can prove it," Angel cut in, walking toward Scully, 
looking down at her neck, his movements smooth and cat-like, 
almost stalking.

Her eyes widened, and she began to back up.  Buffy realized what 
was about to happen.  "Angel, *don't*!"

"Hey!" cried Mulder, starting to get nervous.

"No, *that's* not what he's planning," Buffy said, clearly 
disgusted.  "Angel, I think we've proven to her--"

But Scully seemed intrigued.  "What *are* you planning?" she 
asked the large man who was still advancing on her.  It suddenly 
dawned on her, and she raised her fingers to her throat.  "My 
cross?  What exactly will it do?"

Willow turned away.  "I hate this," she said.  Xander grimaced.  
And Angel pressed his thumb into the cross resting at the collar 
of Scully's shirt.

He met her eyes as the sound of hissing and sizzling filled the 
air, and when he pulled his thumb away to show her, smoke was 
still steaming from the fresh wound.  Shaking herself from the 
thrall he'd held her in with his eyes, she looked down at it, and 
then raised her eyes to meet his once again.  "You didn't even 
flinch."  The stench of burned flesh was unmistakable.

"After a few centuries, you learn that physical pain is 
incidental."

Buffy, however, didn't think it was such a little thing.  "I 
really wish you wouldn't do that," she told him sternly, 
frowning.

Scully ignored the Slayer.  "When you were fighting, earlier 
tonight, your face . . . changed."

He nodded.  "It's the demon in me, literally.  It comes out when 
my passions are aroused.  It's also what gives me superhuman 
strength, which is why I didn't suppress it tonight."

"You're not breathing, either," she said, her voice still soft.

"No.  I'm not exactly alive, Agent Scully.  Not in the sense that 
you're used to, anyway."

She looked back at his thumb, which was looking more red than 
blackened now.  "It's healing!" she cried.
Mulder, looking over her shoulder, looked utterly fascinated.  
"Is a stake through the heart the only thing that will kill you?"

Xander answered the question.  "Decapitation, sunlight, and holy 
water works kind of like acid--"

"--And fire," Willow put in.  "Buffy burned down a whole building 
once."

"Twice," she corrected.  "Hey, it works, and I was outnumbered," 
she defended herself.

"How did the two of you become involved in this?" Mulder asked, 
looking at Willow and Xander.

Xander shrugged.  "I overheard Buffy and Giles talking, and then 
Willow decided to get friendly with a vamp that same night--"

"Hey!  At least I didn't fall for a *bug*!  Or a mummy!"

"No, you picked a disembodied demon, and then a werewolf!"

"He wasn't a werewolf then!  Besides, he's *my* werewolf!"  Oz 
began to snarl again from the cage.

"Guys!" Buffy broke in.  "Can we stay on track here?"

They looked sheepish.  Angel was starting to look a little 
uncomfortable.  "It's getting really late," he said.  "Or early."

Buffy's eyes widened, and she glanced at the clock on the wall.  
"Oh, God!  Excuse me."  She went over to the phone.  "Mom?  Yeah.  
I'm sorry I didn't call.  Uh-huh.  Good.  Thanks.  Yeah, I'll 
bring `em home for breakfast in a while, I promise.  Oz, too, 
when he . . . comes around.  No, everyone's okay.  I'll tell you 
about it later."  She hung up, and turned to Xander and Willow.  
"Your parents called my house, looking for you two.  Mom saved 
the day."  She turned to the FBI agents.  "Angel needs to leave 
now.  If he doesn't get home before daybreak . . ."

Scully nodded.  "Go ahead.  It was . . . interesting to meet you 
. . . Angel."

He didn't smile.  "What Buffy does is important.  If you bring 
this out to the public . . ."

Mulder and Scully looked at each other for a long moment.  "I 
don't think you have to worry, Angel.  But I do have one more 
question.  Why is it that a small town in California has such a 
high concentration of . . . the brethren?  And what is a 
Hellmouth?"

Giles smiled.  "You just answered your own questions, Mr. Mulder.  
The Hellmouth opens just to your left there," he said, pointing 
toward the bookcase just below the mezzanine level.  Mulder 
looked at the area, and then back to the Watcher, raising both 
his eyebrows.  "It looks rather innocuous, doesn't it?"

Xander's face was closed off.  "It's definitely not."

Buffy nodded.  "It's just what it sounds like; the mouth of Hell.  
When it's closed, power can be drawn from underground, in the 
sewer system down there.  We're right on top of it.  Which means 
not only a large concentration of vamps, but also some pretty 
icky demons, monsters, and other fun things come out to play, on 
a regular basis."

"And you take care of them, as well as the vampires?" asked 
Scully.

She nodded.  "Vamps are easier, though.  Not much to clean up, 
after."  She made an "ick" face.  "Demons require a little more 
creativity."

Mulder shook his head.  "And you can't be hurt by them?"

Angel and Xander exchanged looks.  Buffy shrugged.  "Oh, I can be 
hurt.  I can even die.  In fact, I did, once, for a couple of 
minutes.  Obviously, I was revived," she went on, smiling at her 
friends.

"If you hadn't, then vampires . . .?"  He was obviously 
uncomfortable with this.  He could see the need she fulfilled, 
and the void that would be created if her special gifts were to 
be taken from this Hellmouth.  Bad news.

"Would have dealt with the next Slayer," she finished.  "Even 
though I was down for only a short time, another was called.  And 
when she was killed," Scully noticed Angel glance down at the 
floor at this point, "another was called to replace her."

"And she is . . .?"

"Off doin' her own thing.  We don't usually team-Slay."  She 
smiled.  "Of course, if I'd known they were gonna attack in force 
tonight . . ." She looked at Angel.  "Thanks."

He didn't smile--it didn't seem to be a thing he particularly 
liked to do, but Scully could sense the feelings communicated 
between the two of them.  "Glad I could help."  He left without 
another word, slipping away soundlessly.

There was silence for a few moments after he left, and the two 
outsiders exchanged glances, wondering just what the undercurrent 
in the air was.  Were the two in love?  A vampire and a Slayer, a 
sick sort of twist on the whole star-crossed lovers scenario? 

Scully broke the silence.  "Uh . . . your families . . .?"  
Surely there was only so much a teenager could hide from her or 
his parents?  This Xander didn't seem to have any special 
talents, but a witch, werewolf, and Slayer?  Quite a clique!

"My mom knows everything . . . well, most of it, in any case," 
Buffy hedged.

Willow shrugged, rescuing her friend from her own dark thoughts.  
"I tried to tell my mom once, just recently.  About the witch 
thing, not the Buffy-is-a-Slayer thing, or the Oz-is-a-werewolf 
thing," she added hastily.  "Musician was bad enough," added the 
girl wistfully.  "But . . . stuff happened.  For some reason, 
people in Sunnydale are really good at overlooking the details of 
the weird stuff that happens here."

"It's likely an effect of the Hellmouth itself," Giles explained.  
"If people knew the true danger of this place, very few would 
choose to live here."

Willow nodded, looking at him.  "I kinda always thought that 
maybe the Master put some kind of spell on Sunnydale.  `Cause he 
couldn't break free of the Hellmouth, and all, so he didn't want 
his minions to have to walk too far to feed `im."  She looked at 
her friends.  "And that the reason we weren't effected by it was 
because we *knew* the truth, and it was enough to override the 
suggestion, maybe."

"The Master?" asked Mulder.

"Big bad vamp.  Really old.  Opened the Hellmouth.  Buff killed 
him.  Hellmouth got closed," Xander stated succinctly.

"So what exactly would happen if the Hellmouth were to open?"  
Mulder was really interested in this whole concept.

"Well, there's this really scary demon--I mean, all demons are 
scary, but this one is *really* scary--that kind of *is* the 
Hellmouth," Willow dithered.

"Multi-headed fiend-beast thing. *Really* big," Xander explained.

"That's only the first, and the least, of the things that would 
emerge, where an opening to go unchecked," Giles stated gravely.

Mulder frowned.  "Scully and I ran into a . . . gargoyle, back in 
D.C.  It had the ability to get into a person's head, to possess 
him--"

"Mulder, the artist who committed the first murders was 
criminally insane, not possessed.  As for Bill Paxton, he'd been 
working on the case for so long, became so obsessed with it, that 
he allowed himself to take on the persona of the very man he'd 
sought so long.  There's no such thing as--" she broke off 
suddenly, and brought a shocked gaze up to meet the eyes of the 
older man sitting across from her.

He smiled gently.  "I've read accounts of such things.  Without 
having seen the damage wrought, however, it would be difficult to 
identify the creature's nature.  As a rule, I believe that if one 
senses the paranormal, it is genuinely there.  Especially in your 
case, Mr. Mulder.  As I said before, the Council has been 
following your work for some years."

Scully closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find some 
semblance of control.  Her eyes flew open again to find Willow's 
hand on her shoulder.  "I know it's scary," she said, softly.  
"In a way that serial killers, and the stuff you guys usually 
work on, could never be.  `Cause this challenges the basic things 
you've always assumed to be true.  Fairy tales and horror movies 
and campfire ghost stories coming to life.  `Cause if you can't 
trust the way the world is supposed to work, what can you trust?"

Mulder looked at the two diminutive redheads, and a jolt went 
through him. *Is that why she holds so strongly to her science?* 
The reason had always alluded him.  

Willow was still speaking.  "But you have to learn that when the 
world turns upside down, the only thing left to trust is your 
friends.  And it's enough."  Her gaze flicked to Mulder, and 
back.  "But I think you already know that," she added, though her 
tone sounded as if she knew full well that Scully needed the 
reminder.

There was a moaning noise behind them, and Willow bolted to her 
feet.  "Oz?" she asked, her tone softening, and Mulder saw an odd 
look come across Xander's face, which the teenager quickly 
suppressed.

"Anybody seen my pants?" came a masculine voice from inside the 
cage.

Giles spoke up.  "I believe you ate them again."

"Bummer.  Gotta stop carrying beef jerky in 'em."

Buffy's eyes were wide.  "Geeze, is it dawn already?  God, am I 
glad it's Saturday!"

Willow was in Giles' office, and returned with a pair of corduroy 
pants and a wide belt.  Giles handed her a wallet, which she 
attached to the belt by means of a long chain.  "Here you go, 
sweetie," she said, putting the pants into the hand that reached 
around the door once she unlocked it, the owner obscured by the 
blankets pinned to the grating of the steel cage.  A young man 
with a goatee emerged a few moments later.  "How do you feel?" 
she asked.

"Good."  He turned to the FBI agents.  "Hey."

Mulder shook off the feelings that the boy looked very familiar.   
"Oswald Green?"

Xander snorted.  "Can we call you `Waldy' now?"

"Sure, Lexy," he said calmly, not batting an eye.  Xander 
scowled.

"I'm Mulder, this is Scully," Mulder interjected.

"Oz."  He shook both their hands.  "You been here long?"

Willow giggled.  "They're okay."  Her face fell.  "But I found 
out who broke into my computer."

"Ah."

Buffy broke in quickly.  "Not actually them, friends of theirs."

"I figured, since they're here, and the East Coast . . . isn't," 
Oz agreed.

Scully raised a brow, looking at Mulder.  "You were able to trace 
that?"  She knew the Gunmen were kings of paranoia, and took 
every precaution against tracers, to the point of ridiculousness.

"Oh, yeah.  Not hard, really.  Their safeguard protocols were 
sort of basic."  He sat down in the chair Willow had vacated, and 
she sat in his lap.  "Friends of yours?" he confirmed.  "Do me a 
favor, then.  Let `em know," he said, his voice not fluctuating 
from it's mild monotone, but his eyes spoke the volumes his mouth 
didn't have to, as he glanced at the cage very casually, "not to 
do that again."

Mulder's eyes widened.  "Got'cha." *Hey, boys?  A werewolf's 
gonna come find you and eat you if you break into that little 
girl's computer again . . .* he tried in his head, smothering a 
grin. *Oh, and said werewolf called your safeguard protocols 
"basic."* Oh yeah, that would go over real well.

"Yeah, well, sorry about that.  We didn't ask them to break into 
your system, Willow."  Scully wondered idly if he was reassuring 
the witch, the werewolf, or simply the kid.  But she had her 
suspicions.  "I originally asked them to run a background check 
on you, Mr. Giles.  I couldn't find much help from the Bureau in 
that regard for some reason--"

"The Council has members in many places, Agent Mulder.  I assure 
you that if you need something in the future, it will not be 
denied you again."  Scully's eyes widened at Giles' 
pronouncement.

Mulder shook his head disbelievingly, and grinning, went on, "--
and I mentioned the names that had turned up repeatedly on police 
reports over the past few years.  They recognized your names," he 
elaborated, nodding at the couple.  "Were you aware you'd been 
targeted as potential government recruits?"

Xander raised his eyebrows.  "Really?"

Buffy grinned.  "You and Will weren't exactly speaking at the 
time," she explained.  "The career tests?"

His face darkened, recalling just what--whom--he'd been so 
preoccupied with at the time.  "Oh."

Willow ignored the exchange, and took Oz's hand in hers.  "That's 
how we met, actually."

Oz shook his head.  "I knew who you were, before that."  His 
words, while never wavering from the laid-back monotone that 
seemed his eternal wont, held an undercurrent that was not missed 
by anyone in the room.

Especially Willow.  "Really?" she asked, her whole face lighting 
up, her voice rising in a hopeful note, a small smile breaking 
across her face.

He smiled gently.  "Yeah."

"Wow."

Mulder, loathe to break them away from their intimate gaze into 
each other's eyes, grinned at Scully, who rolled her eyes, 
seeming to have no such compunction.  "There are a few names we 
haven't accounted for," she prodded.

"Oh!  Right.  Cordelia Chase?" he inquired.

Willow, Oz and Xander all tensed at the same moment.  Scully 
noted with some interest that the so far unflappable Oz had a 
muscle ticking in his jaw as he and his girlfriend looked to 
Xander, who spoke, saying, "My ex-girlfriend."

Mulder, noticing the shift in the dynamics, treaded carefully.  
"Does she know . . . about all this?"  Was that the reason for 
the breakup?  

"Oh, yeah," Buffy answered for him.  "She's known for some time."

"But you're not close with her anymore?"

Xander snorted.  "No."

Buffy rescued him again.  "Cordy's a breed all her own.  She's 
not gonna tell anyone about us, if only because--"

"She's a mean-spirited, stuck-up--"

"Xander," Willow admonished, gently.  "Those would be reasons 
*for* her to betray us."

"Oh.  Right."

Buffy rolled her eyes.  "*If only because* she doesn't want 
anyone to think she's lost it completely.  Image is important to 
her."

"Okay."  The relationships of these teenagers were none of their 
business, and certainly not part of the case; he wasn't gonna 
ask.  "The final one is Principal Snyder."

Everyone groaned.  Buffy sighed heavily.  "The bane of my 
existence.  He knows absolutely *nothing* about what goes on in 
this town, but he really seems to have it out for me, and 
consequently makes my life difficult at every turn."

Xander nodded.  "She stopped the world from being literally 
sucked into Hell last spring, and he *expelled* her."

Oz shrugged.  "Not that the guy needs any defense, but Buffy 
*had* been accused of murder at the time."

Buffy shivered.  "I don't know why, but somehow I *knew* that he 
knew I hadn't done it.  I don't even know why he hates me so 
much.  Aside from the destroying school property thing, I mean."

Willow frowned.  "Maybe he's jealous."  They all stared at her.  
"Well, remember that whole band candy thing?"  Giles slowly 
turned red, unnoticed by the teenagers.  "He was tagging along 
after us like he just wanted a friend."  She ducked her head, 
hiding against Oz at the dubious glares.  "Maybe not," she 
recanted meekly.

Oz took pity on the confused agents, stroking Willow's hair 
reassuringly.  "Someone poisoned the band candy so that all the 
adults acted like irresponsible teenagers.  Then a bunch of 
vampires stole a bunch of newborn babies to sacrifice to a demon 
named Lurconis."  

"The Glutton?" Mulder asked, intrigued.  Scully blinked slowly.  
Mulder frowned.  "Do vampires and demons often work in tandem?"

Giles frowned.  "Actually, hardly ever."  He looked at Buffy.

She rolled her eyes.  "You probably didn't pick up on it, Giles, 
being to busy making out with my *mom*," she began, shooting a 
glare at him, and he reddened further, "but I think Trick and 
Ethan had been hired by someone to bring about that whole thing."  
She looked at her friends.  "We never really found out who."

"Okay, one final thing," Mulder began.

"You don't use notes," Willow noticed suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't use notes.  On TV, you always see cops making notes 
and referring to notes . . ."  Scully held up a small notepad and 
pen that she'd retrieved from her coat pocket.  ". . . Like 
that."

Scully smiled.  Mulder shrugged.  "I have an eidetic memory.  
That means--"

"Photographic, but with every sense, not just sight," she 
supplied, nodding.  "Okay.  Sorry.  Go on with your `last 
thing.'"

He chuckled.  "Alright.  I was wondering how Principal Snyder 
could be working so closely with Mayor Wilkins, yet your 
Council," he nodded toward Giles, who wore a very confused 
expression on his bespectacled face, "hasn't kept a tighter leash 
on him."

"Pardon me?"

It was Mulder's turn to be confused.  "You said the reason I had 
trouble getting authorization to investigate Sunnydale was 
because of the Council's influence.  I assumed that included your 
own mayor, with whom I had the most trouble."  He exchanged a 
look with Scully.  "It doesn't?"

"No.  The political and law officers in Sunnydale seem to be 
affected by the same lack of comprehension that the rest of the 
town suffers--"

Scully frowned.  "I'm not so sure about that.  The mayor was 
quite different than the police we spoke with.  They seemed 
apathetic and uninterested.  Richard Wilkins, however, was 
evasive and manipulative.  As was Principal Snyder, who said that 
the mayor had already warned him about our impending 
investigation."

Buffy frowned.  "When my mother threatened to go the mayor, while 
I was expelled from school, Snyder just laughed at us."

Scully leaned forward.  "Did you perpetuate the PCP explanation 
that's accounted for the violence done here?"

Giles looked decidedly unsettled.  "I have no idea where that 
first originated."

Buffy's face hardened, and Mulder shivered.  It was sobering to 
see that adult look on a child.  "When Spike first came to town--
" She spared a glance at the agents, "--a vampire that has a 
specialty in killing Slayers--" she turned back to Giles, "and 
broke in on Parent-Teacher Night?  Just before St. Vigeus?"

Oz blinked.  "I thought Trick was the Slayer Fest guy."

Willow patted his hand.  "But Spike's actually killed Slayers.  
And Drusilla was his girlfriend, remember?  She's the one that 
killed Kendra.  Three Slayers in one century, between the two of 
them.  Trick is just a businessman--er, businessvamp, I suppose, 
and we haven't seen *him* since Buffy set Lurconis on fire down 
in the sewers."

A look of wonder had come across Mulder's face.  "They practice 
the rites of St. Vigeus?"

Buffy frowned at him.  "Uh, sort of.  But he was impatient, and 
went after me before then.  Anyway, a whole army of them stormed 
the school on Parent-Teacher Night last year.  People noticed 
their faces looked odd--they were vamped out.  Snyder immediately 
started telling everyone it was a gang on PCP."

Mulder looked at Scully, who shook her head.  "It doesn't cause 
facial deformations like that," she confirmed.

Mulder's jaw tightened.  "And Snyder has a background in dealing 
with drug-related problems," he mused, dredging up the 
information from the file he'd only briefly glanced at when 
they'd visited City Hall.  "He would know that."

Xander shook his head.  "Wait a second.  You're saying that 
*Principal Snyder* helped cover up what happened that night?"

Giles' met Buffy's eye.  "Cover up, yes.  Helped, no.  I believe 
we should keep a better eye on our principal, from now on.  He 
may know more that we ever thought."

Willow was confused.  "But he doesn't like Buffy, and us, because 
of the trouble-maker thing!  Burned buildings, fights, dead 
people!  But if he knew *why* all that stuff happened, he would--
"

"--Have an agenda other than what we thought, Will," Buffy told 
her friend gently, who always took it hard when authority figures 
fell.

"The mayor may have a part in that agenda," Mulder added.

Scully frowned.  "Mulder, can I talk to you for a minute?"  The 
two went to speak up in the stacks.  "Mulder, I--this past day 
has been . . . incredible.  And the most incredible part is that 
while we have proof, for once, we aren't going to say anything 
about it."

"What's your point, Scully?"  It wasn't an accusation, or a 
recrimination, merely a question, and Scully accepted the tone 
behind them.  They knew each other too well to take offense at 
mere words.  Most of the time, anyway.

"My point is that we have no reason to stay.  No professional 
reason," she amended, firmly.

But he protested anyway.  "There is a serious cover up going on 
here, Scully--"

"Which is working to their benefit, for the time being," she 
gently pointed out.

"But there's obviously a hidden agenda!  I can't believe you want 
to walk away from this!"

"I don't want to, Mulder.  But we can't just drop everything to 
infiltrate the local government, to ferret out what malicious 
reasons the principal of a high school and the mayor of a small 
town might have to root for the vampires instead of the Slayer."  
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain her 
equilibrium, trying to reconcile her world-view with the words 
that had just come out of her mouth in a non-sarcastic way.  "For 
one thing," she went on, "we don't have the knowledge.  These 
people, these *children*, however innocuous and unprepossessing 
they may seem, *know what they are doing*.  Tonight, we were 
ready to battle those creatures with guns.  If those kids hadn't 
been there, do you think we would have survived?  We aren't 
Watchers, or Slayers, or . . ." She looked at the other teenagers 
sitting at the table, looking rather exhausted.  "Or 
Slayerettes."  She won a smirk from her partner.  "We're FBI 
agents, and *that's* what we do.  If we can help these people in 
some capacity, some *official* capacity, one we can show to 
Skinner and he can sign off on with as much confidence as he ever 
can with our cases," and this won a mock scowl, "then we will.  
Beyond that, I don't really see what we can do."  She touched his 
arm.  "Do you?"

Resignedly, he shook his head.  "You're right, Scully."  He 
grinned suddenly.  "There is a bright side, though.  Next time we 
run into something fantastical, you can't just dismiss it--"

"Hold it, Mulder.  I believe the things we've been told tonight 
because I saw *proof* of those things.  Buffy isn't an ordinary 
girl, and neither is Willow.  Angel is . . . a vampire.  And Oz--
" She shook her head in wonder.  "Oz is a physical impossibility, 
and yet he exists."  She wondered if he'd submit to an 
examination.  But she'd really need an expert for that, and 
doubted he'd be willing to allow anyone else to know--

"Leonard Betts, Eugene Tooms, Robert Modell, *Jerimiah Smith* . . 
. all were `physical impossibilities', Scully--"

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers.  
"I know, Mulder, I know.  Let's not get into this now, okay?  I 
believe.  In this case, I really do believe."

"Because we have proof," he clarified.  She nodded.  He took her 
hand in his for a brief moment, and met her eyes firmly.  "I'll 
find you proof of aliens, Scully.  I swear it."

She smiled at him.  "I believe you will, Mulder," she said, 
choosing her words deliberately.

Xander, who had come up to the stacks to see if they were okay, 
heard the last of their conversation.  "Aliens?  Hoo-boy!"  He 
turned back to the group and called out, "hey, let's tell `em 
about the little Bezoar eggs!" 

The End