"Thank goodness, you’ve made it back in one piece," Giles stated with great relief.

The Watcher hurriedly returned the glasses he had been polishing to his face and walked toward Buffy to help with Oz.  Gratefully, the Slayer shifted the redhead’s weight to Giles.  She was sworn to protect humanity, but touching other people still made her very uncomfortable.

"Told ya it wouldn’t be a problem, Geeves.  Your local big bad is dust," Buffy responded in a calculatedly even tone.  The truth was that she felt anything but even.  Beneath all of her bravado, she was shaken to the core.  Not that she would ever admit it, even to herself.

Never show any weakness, never depend on anyone, these were the lessons she lived by.

As Giles helped Oz into a nearby chair, the Slayer sank to the floor, crossing her legs as she leaned forward and rested her forehead on the cool tiles.  It wasn’t a position many people would find overly comfortable, but thanks to Slayer flexibility and strength, it was fine for her.  It also kept her out of reach.

After several moments, Buffy sat up again and watched as Giles carefully and gently examined Oz for serious wounds.  Finding none, he released a huge sigh of relief.  The Slayer was stunned by the obvious affection the older man had for his young charge.  She was fairly certain that no one had ever been that worried about her.

Giles turned to the Slayer, "Are you injured, Miss Summers?"

"I’m just fine," Buffy replied automatically.

Giles nodded sadly, "All right then."

He was fairly sure that even if she’d been suffering from grievous injuries that Buffy’s answer would have been the same.  She was as skittish as a young colt, doing anything to avoid having to touch or be touched by another person.  While Larry and Oz might not have noticed, it definitely had not escaped his attention.  What a shame.  It undoubtedly made her a better killer, but she was still little more than a child.  She could face down a demon of the Master’s caliber without a moment’s concern for her welfare, but she couldn’t handle something as simple as another’s concern for her well being.

The Slayer wasn’t afraid of dying, she’d been prepared her whole life for it.  Instead, she was afraid of living.

Perhaps that could change with time, he thought wryly to himself.

Inside Giles’s office, Cordelia slowly pushed herself into a sitting position.  She closed her eyes and tried to remember what happened.  She was so thirsty.  Opening her eyes and looking around she noticed a glass of water that had apparently been left for her.  She drained, poured and drained a glass.

Slowly, it came back.

Oh gods, what had she done?  She’d been so angry at Angel.  He had been acting totally psycho.  Okay, so he wasn’t Angelus-I’m-going-to-make-hors-d’ovres-out-of-all-the-Slayer’s-friends psycho, but it was still pretty off the charts schizzed out.

She’d been talking to some vengeance demon in that damn karaoke bar and ... oh no, what *exactly* had she said?  Cordelia wracked her brain to remember.

"Blah, blah, blah ... I wish Angel’s curse never had that damn happiness clause ... and oh yeah I wish Buffy Summers had never come to Sunnydale."

The words echoed inside her head.  Oh lord, that was what she’d said ... Then whamo she’s stuck in bizarro Sunnydale.  Fear ate at her insides.  What had she done?

She hadn’t meant it, not really.  It was just that she wanted Angel back to normal, or at least normal for him.  He’d been doing so great getting past the whole Buffy thing and then along came Wolfram and Hart and their damn Darla-in-the-box.  His Sire had messed Angel up badly, but from Cordelia’s point of view, it had all been Buffy’s fault.  The Slayer had, however unintentionally, set the stage for the monster mind fuck from Angel’s Sire.

It had seemed reasonable at the time.  If Angel hadn’t had the happiness clause in his curse then he would have been free from his guilt instead of embracing it all the time.  If he’d never met Buffy in Sunnydale, then Darla wouldn’t have been able to play him so easily.  Plus he and Buffy had never really been good for each other.  Way before the whole Angelus murdering everyone thing they had issues.  Slayer plus vampire did not equal happily ever after.  Talk about conflict of interest.

Due to her own stupidity, she was stuck in this world turned upside down.  And she had no way to get home.  She tried to remember as much as she could about her new world.  Not easy considering that so far she’d spent most of her stay unconscious.

She’d been attacked by Xander and Willow, twice.  The second time, they’d almost drained her.  Giles must have made it out of the cage after she passed out from blood loss and scared them off before they could finish.

She groaned.

Two times in less than twenty-four hours that vamp Xander and his lively bondage playmate vamp Willow had rendered her unconscious.  Her body still ached from where Xander had shoved her to the pavement in the middle of downtown Sunnydale hours ago.  She would have to find Buffy, and fast.

As if on cue Cordelia heard the Slayer’s raised voice coming from the next room.

Cordelia walked through the door of Giles’s office and into the main library.

"Buffy thank gods you’re ... here," her greeting came to an abrupt stop.  "Jesus Christ what happened to you?" she asked the Slayer, taking in her army inspired outfit.  "Where’d you find that outfit?  Dykes-R-Us?"

Buffy stared blankly at the brunette.  Slowly, she seemed to absorb what Cordelia had said.  For a moment, her eyes reflected deep hurt, but it was quickly camouflaged.  A tremor went through her and her expression became icy.

"Can I kill it, Geeves?" Buffy calmly asked Giles, not bothering to look at him.

"My name is Giles, Miss Summers, and no, you certainly may not ‘kill it’," he admonished.

Walking over to Cordelia, Giles gestured for her to have a seat and rest in one of the chairs around the large study table. Cordy took a moment to study her surroundings.  Her initial outburst had been a knee jerk reaction.  Buffy, for all her faults, had always been so stylish.  Cordy had initially thought the outfit must be a joke.  Apparently it wasn’t.  Whoever the Buffy of this world was, she wasn’t the girl that Cordelia remembered.

 "This is Cordelia Chase," he explained to Buffy.  "And though she may be a bit opinionated at times, she is not, in the strictest sense at least, evil.  Miss Chase is the one who prompted me to contact you, and who knew that I am a Watcher.  There is no discernable reason she should be in possession of these facts.  I would be very interested in finding out how she came upon that knowledge."

Giles finished rather pointedly, intently studying the former cheerleader.

"Okay, so there’s a chance I might be able to kill it.  Goodie," Buffy offered, pulling a nasty looking knife from a sheath around her lower leg.

"Back off!" Cordelia growled.  While she understood that this wasn’t the Buffy that she knew, Cordy wasn’t about to be intimidated by anyone.

"Wanna make me?" Buffy asked mockingly, brandishing the knife.

As Cordelia opened her mouth to provoke the armed Slayer further, Giles interceded, "Children, please!  This is not recess."

Turning towards Cordelia, he continued in a very measured tone, "This is very serious, Miss Chase.  You have information that there is no reasonable explanation why you should possess.  I want to know why and how you know about Miss Summers and myself."

Cordelia winced and swallowed heavily.  She was not about to tell all these people that the entire world sucked because she had wanted a more hospitable work place environment.  She looked from Giles’ face to Buffy’s and back.  They wanted and answer, and a good one at that.

"I get visions," she explained, "messages from the Powers That Be.  They were the ones that told me you were a Watcher and that we needed Buffy."

"Visions?" Giles asked.  Whatever flimsy excuse he had been expecting, this was not it.  His expression turned from skeptical to very interested in a heartbeat.

"Visions.  Scratch and sniff, Technicolor, complete with skull splitting pain, visions." Cordelia finished.

"Do you get them often?" Giles asked.

"I used to get them off an on, now ... I don’t know.  Maybe they’ll go away since the Slayer is here," Cordelia offered hopefully.

That would be the one great thing about Freako Sunnydale.  If she could ditch the visions maybe she could get on with her life.

"I suppose that is a possibility," Giles said removing his glasses to polish them again. "Bringing Buffy to Sunnydale led directly to the death of the Master, as well as most of his followers including one of your attackers, the former Alexander Harris."

"Xander’s dead?" Cordelia asked.

"Yes, Miss Summers was just giving me her report on the evening’s events.  She, along with Larry and Oz managed to stop the Master and his ‘factory’, as well as do very substantial damage to the Sunnydale vampire population,"  Giles said beaming.  It was obvious he was thrilled with the Slayer’s success.

"We weren’t alone," Oz interrupted.

It was the first time he had spoken since leaving the factory.  Given that he was a man of such few words, everyone’s attention was focused intently on him.

"Pardon?" Giles asked.

"I said it wasn’t just us.  It wasn’t just me and Larry and the Sla ... Buffy.  There was some other guy helping.  I’ve never seen him before.  He’s the one who threw open the pens they had all the humans in.  I don’t know what happened to him.  I didn’t see him after it was all over."

"You don’t need to worry about it," Buffy said coldly.

"Why, who was he?" Giles asked turning towards the Slayer.

"What," Buffy corrected.

"I said ‘who was he’," Giles repeated.

"No Geeves, I wasn’t asking you ‘what’,  I was telling you ‘what’," Buffy stated simply.

"I’m afraid I don’t understand," Giles said, his brow furrowing.

"He isn’t a ‘who’, he’s a ‘what’.  Vamp," she clarified.

"Vampire?" Giles said, clearly mystified by her revelation.

"Why would a vampire help a bunch of humans?" Larry asked.

"Payback," Buffy stated.  "I found him chained up in the basement of the vamp Studio54.  He led me to the factory in exchange for the keys.  Wanted to get even with the Master for torturing him."

"And do we know where is he now?" Oz asked.

"No idea," Buffy remarked casually.  "Keeping tabs on wounded vamps isn’t my thing.  With the shape he was in, he’ll probably be dead in a day or two."

"Wounded?" Giles asked.

"Yeah, he had all these marks on his chest.  Burns, bruises, cuts," Buffy rattled off cavalierly.  "I don’t really see what the big is here, I already told you he wanted revenge because the Master used him as a whipping boy.  Besides, I think he may have been mental to boot."

"Why do you say that?" Giles asked.

"He was mumbling all this stuff about me not recognizing him, about how I was his destiny or something.  I think maybe he was delirious, starving or something.  He looked like a bag of bones,"  Buffy finished.

"I still don’t understand why a vampire would help a Slayer under any circumstance, especially when going against a foe as powerful as the Master.  It should have meant certain death and vampires are not big on self sacrifice," Giles pondered.

"We have to find him," Cordelia said frantically, rising to her feet so fast that it made her head spin.

Instinctively, she reached for the table to steady herself.  She had to fix this wacko world, and fast.  Apparently her assumption that Angel had not known about Buffy until she arrived in Sunnydale had been wrong. He obviously knew of her before she arrived.  It was possible he already thought he was in love with her if he’d called her his ‘destiny’.

"Ok, Geeves, for once I’m with the princess.  We shouldn’t let any vamp walk, even if it did help us in a pinch,"  Buffy said standing as well.

Cordelia turned to glare at the Slayer, not with the irritated expression she had worn earlier, but one of pure rage.

"We are *not*, I repeat *not* going to hurt him!" she yelled at the entire group, but especially to the armed Slayer.

"Was this part of your vision, Miss Chase?" Giles asked.

"Vision?" Cordelia stumbled, then quickly caught on.  "Yes, the vision.  I had a vision of him helping us.  His name is Angel and we have to find him now.  He can’t die."

"I understand that you are passionate about your visions, Miss Chase, but I don’t even know where to begin looking," Giles informed her.

"Listen, these visions are from *The Powers That Be*, they are not to be taken lightly and definitely not to be ignored.  They say we have to find him, then we have to find him.  Now!"  Cordelia practically growled.

"Ah, well, yes, then ... Larry can you bring the van around so we can begin our search for the vam, er, Angel," Giles acquiesced.

It took Larry almost fifteen minutes to locate and pull the battered white van around to the front entrance of the school.  All of the white hats participated in the search for Angel, even Oz, who was still rather shaken from his altercation with the vampire, Willow.

As they drove the darkened streets of Sunnydale, there was no sign of life.  The resident human population knew better than to venture out after dark, and with the defeat of the Master and the decimation of the vamp population, there wasn’t enough unlife around to fill Giles’ rusty Citreon.

The search continued for hours, but nobody could muster the energy to complain.  Taking care of unpleasant business in the middle of the night was second nature to all of the van’s occupants.  As the search wore on, Cordelia figured that anything was worth a shot.

"Drive down Crawford street," she instructed Larry.  "There’s an old mansion there that we should check out."

No one questioned her knowledge as Larry steered the van towards the mansion.  It was dark, appearing abandoned.  Testing the door proved it was securely locked.  Given that no one wanted to fumble around in the dark, looking for the second entrance in the sunken garden, Buffy kicked in the aging door with a resounding thud.

Stepping inside, the group divvied up the three flashlights that Giles produced.  They split into teams:  Larry and Oz, Cordelia and Giles, and Buffy-I-don’t-work-well-with-others.  All were given explicit instructions not to startle Angel if they found him.  The second floor went to Oz and Larry, the basement to Giles and Cordelia.  That left Buffy with the main floor of the sprawling structure.

Usually a vamp search and destroy took Buffy minutes, even in a place as sprawling as the mansion.  This, however, was different.  She couldn’t *feel* Angel.  In the basement of the Bronze she’d noticed he hadn’t set off her spidey sense.  The anomaly meant she couldn’t hunt him down as she would any other vamp.  Reluctantly, she began the arduous task of searching rooms.

Even at her slowed pace, Buffy finished with her portion of the mansion far before her fellow White Hats and came up with nothing.  Her search hadn’t turned up signs of Angel, or any other vamp for that matter.  Out of boredom, she studied her surroundings more carefully.  Her curiosity led her to a set of open French doors that led into the sunken garden Cordelia had mentioned.

The moon was not quite full, but still very bright.  Turning off her flashlight, she stepped through the doors into the crisp night air.  She walked to a small bench in the center of the garden and sat wearily, rubbing the back of her neck.  Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her head on them.

"Beautiful," came a harsh whisper from one of the shadowed corners.

Jumping off the bench like she’d been shot, Buffy instinctively grabbed a stake from her belt and assuming a fighting stance.  She stared into the darkened corner at Angel.

"You know, vamps don’t tend to stay non-dusty if they keep sneaking up on Slayers," she snapped.

"I didn’t sneak up on you.  I was here first," Angel explained quietly.

"Yeah, well ... " Buffy blustered.  "We came to find you, the princess seems to think we need to save you."

"I don’t need your help," Angel replied evenly.

It was apparently the wrong thing to say to a Slayer who was being forced to offer help against her better judgment.  He didn’t need her help?  He could barely walk.  His little display at the factory must have sapped all of his strength.  Buffy would be willing to bet it had taken him hours to drag his bony ass to the dilapidated mansion.  He wouldn’t survive to see another nightfall without their aid.

"Sure you don’t," she bit out sarcastically.  "You look great.  One man army.  Just so you know, the starving refugee look is so out this season."

"It’s not your concern.  You can leave," he said more forcefully.

Now *he* was dismissing *her*?  Buffy fumed.  However, even she couldn’t kill something as pathetic as the waif before her.

"This isn’t really up for debate and since you couldn’t hurt a fly in your condition I guess you’ll just have to do what I say," she yelled.

Their attentions were diverted as the remaining White Hats, Giles first, walked through the open doors and out into the garden.

"I thought I heard voices out here," the Watcher explained.  "Is this?" he stopped as Cordelia rushed past him towards the vampire crouched in the corner.

"Angel!" she said running to kneel in front of his slight form.

He looked at her in bewilderment as she ran her hands over his face, but he was too exhausted to move.

"Thank gods you’re still alive, er, undead," she said.  "I was so worried ... what is it with this world?  You look worse than robo-Buffy over there."

Angel stared at her, startled, but too weak break her grasp.  Suddenly she dropped her hands to her knees and raked her eyes over his body.  He looked terrible.  This wasn’t her Angel.  He was abused and wounded ... and he didn’t know who she was.  The idea that she was scaring him, doing him more harm, sobered her instantly.  She bowed her head for a while as if searching for something to say.

"I’m ... we’re here to help you.  The Powers That Be sent us.  We won’t hurt you, please come with us," she pled quietly.

Angel looked past her, towards the others.  They seemed to agree with her, although their body language told him they weren’t thrilled with the idea of helping a vampire.  He looked at her face again.  He’d never laid eyes on her before but she seemed so sincere, so eager to help him and if the ‘undead’ comment was any indication, she obviously knew what he was.

 "All right," he relented, unable to do anything else.

Although he was so light one of them could have done the job, both Larry and Giles helped Angel to the van, laying him gently in the back.  Angel didn’t miss the fact that Cordelia was the only one who didn’t try to get as far away from him as the small space would allow.  He also noticed she was the only one who didn’t smell like fear.  All of the adrenalin in the air made him very uncomfortable, a constant reminder he was nothing but a vicious animal to them.  Angel closed his eyes and tried to relax.  He wasn’t going to help himself by getting overly excited.

At Cordelia’s direction, which she never seemed to be lacking, the group stopped by a slaughterhouse that somehow managed to employ a third shift.  Multiple gallons of fresh blood were purchased and loaded into the back of the van next to Angel.

As the scent hit him, Angel vamped out involuntarily.  Once again everyone but Cordelia jumped, Larry screamed.  Cordelia glared at them all.  Regaining his composure, Larry got the van moving again.  It was still a twenty-five minute ride back to the library.   Angel wouldn’t last that long.  Helping him sit and turn away from the group, Cordelia held the heavy bottle as he drank hungrily.

It wasn’t pretty.  He hadn’t been fed properly in years and he hadn’t fed at all in several months.  As he gulped the viscous liquid, streams of it dribbled down his chin to stain his already filthy shirt.  When the gallon was empty, Angel sat there panting heavily from the exertion.  Using the back of his hand, he wiped the blood from his chin.  After several minutes he looked at Cordelia.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"No problem," Cordelia said with a smile.

Cordelia reached for a second gallon, but Angel stopped her.  "I’ll be okay until we get inside.  That took the edge off."

Cordelia helped him lay back and then leaned heavily against the bare interior of the van.  It killed her to see him like this.  The thought that she had caused him pain with her stupid wish wounded her deeply.

She would make it better.

Buffy had watched the entire exchange with a mixture of disgust and awe.  She really hadn’t picked Cordelia for the mothering type, especially towards a creature of the night.  But the princess had just helped it feed like she did this kind of thing all the time!  This bothered Buffy, for a lot of reasons she wasn’t willing to examine too harshly.

And another thing, had he really said ‘beautiful’ when she walked into the garden?

Dawn was fast approaching when the White Hats reached the school with the wounded vampire in tow.  Giles helped the somewhat stronger Angel escape the threat of sunlight into the safety the school provided.  Doing the same with Oz, Larry left Buffy and Cordelia to carry the containers from the slaughterhouse.  As they unloaded the blood, Buffy couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.

"So what are you, princess?  The Mother Theresa of the undead?  I would’ve never picked you as someone hard up enough to get touchy with an animated corpse," Buffy snipped.

Cordelia looked at her with a strangely placid expression.  How weird was this?  Buffy giving *her* a lecture on getting up close and personal with the undead.  She found the extent to which Buffy was uncomfortable about Angel deeply unsettling.  The Slayer had always been his fiercest champion.  Christ she’d let him feed on her blood to save his life, and almost died in the process.  Now she couldn’t even watch him down the TV dinner version.

"Angel isn’t an ordinary vampire," Cordelia explained.

"Yeah, I got that.  He has the whole Kate Moss thing workin’ for him," she bit out.

"No, Angel isn’t an ordinary vampire because he has a soul," Cordelia said, feeling a little stupid giving Buffy the cliff notes version of Angel’s life.  However, since she needed Buffy on the Angel bandwagon asap, Queen C continued, "He doesn’t feed on humans.  He’s a good guy trying to make a difference.  And he doesn’t really look like a Calvin Klein model.  The Master must have starved him for months, he’s about sixty pounds underweight."

Buffy wondered how Cordelia knew all so much about the vampire she just met.  Those must have been some visions.

"A soul?" Buffy asked.

"Yes, a human soul. Complete with conscience."

"So he’s ..." Buffy stuttered, trying to wrap her mind around the concept.

"A two hundred and fifty year old good guy.  And he’s in really sorry shape right now, at least physically.  I hope he can recover," she added.

In silence, the two finished bringing the containers into the library.  Buffy thought a lot about what Cordelia had said.  A vampire with a soul.  How strange must that be?  And what did he have to do with her destiny?

The sun was cresting the horizon as Angel downed his third container.  Giles had located a vacant service closet at the back of the library, blessedly free of windows.  A few blankets were thrown down to create a makeshift bed and Angel was unconscious before his head hit the floor.

In the early morning light, the group disbanded.  It was Saturday, so Angel would be safe from prying eyes.  Larry and Oz headed to their respective beds, Buffy accompanied Giles to his house, planning to crash on his couch.  Cordelia insisted on staying in Giles library office to be near Angel in case he needed anything.

Everyone slept.

Buffy did so fitfully, her dreams haunted by thoughts of her destiny with an ensouled vampire.

The End