Part 26

In Sunnydale, strange occurrences were the norm. Death did not phase it's inhabitants. Unless they were physically involved it was not real to them. In the past three weeks Willow's clan had dramatically increased it's numbers. Fourteen clans had fallen.

In all that time no one had noticed any of the disturbances they had created. The few slips the vampires had made in letting themselves be seen had also gone unnoticed. Tonight was no different.

They had surrounded the local club "The Bronze," waiting for the Mistress' permission to continue. It was after closing time, the humans had left hours ago, but they were not there for a quick meal.  One of the largest clans they had mapped lived inside.

Their Mistress had an arrogant streak. They knew it, admitted it, and embraced that arrogance. It was deserved, and it filled them with enthusiasm. They _knew_ they were going to win.

Although many had not seen the Lady since the night that they had sworn her service her impatience was felt by each, carried to them by the cool night air. They wondered why she waited.

Willow waited. A queasy anticipation built inside. A wild thundering filled her heart. The warfare that she waged was wild.  Freewheeling and downright intoxicating. She'd had to step on her enthusiasm more than once. Sometimes she wondered how much this power was changing her. But now was not the time.

Willow made not a sound, her jaw clenched tight as her as her blood continued to sing. It was the lust of the hunt. When she could wait no longer, she grinned and turned to Eric who waited at her back.

"Don't kill anyone."

Eric smiled back. It was just a baring of his teeth, but he did nod, accepting her order. He just didn't look too pleased.

"Unless you have to." Willow amended.

At her words his smiled turned genuine, and she watched his demon ride up through his eyes. She watched it look back at her from Eric's face. She watched thoughts slide across his face that had more to do with food than anything else. His eyes were golden-amber, not human, and she didn't care.

A short shrieking whistle shattered the air, and her vampires advanced with a silent, savage efficiency. Willow entered a little behind them, Eric always at her back, and assessed the fight. It was almost finished, their targets having had no more warning than the whistle.

Willow and Eric moved apart, a little way from each other, giving Eric room to fight. The thought occurred to her that she had never seen Eric really fight, he mostly just threw people around. But well...throwing people around, even vampires, does generally hurt.

Eric shouted the standard warning she required of him - as usual something along the lines of "give up or die". His voice was deep, and very calm. There was no fear in it - big surprise - but there was an undercurrent of eagerness, as if under that calmness he was itching to hurt them. Willow didn't have to see his face to know he was smiling. Everyone heard the threat in his voice, kind of hard to miss it, and he was _extremely_ convincing.

There was sudden silence, in which the second most beautiful person Willow had ever seen broke the quiet to order her death. A few he commanded moved to attack her, obeying the person who she took to be their leader. They were dusted for their trouble by several of her vampires that were nearby.

Her power flowed over them in a hot, skin-crawling rush in response. Giving those who remained just a taste of what she could do. All the while keeping eye contact with the blond leader as he watched her face, trying to judge her. He couldn't read it. Her eyes showed him nothing and a wicked smile graced her face. He knelt.

Stunned, the onlookers stood rooted, unable or unwilling to believe that the sanctity of their lair had been breached. That their leader and master would so meekly surrender to a human girl with so little fight. But they stayed motionless. To them it was a betrayal ugly to watch, but they could do nothing.

Willow nodded her head towards them, "Take them." Her clan closed about them at her command. The prisoners would be dispersed, each given to an older member until they learned how things worked, what the rules were. Then they would be given a very simple choice: serve her or die. But as for the leader, she would keep him close.

She walked up to him and tilted his face up; fingertips digging lightly into the soft flesh beneath his chin until he met her eyes. There was something strange about this vampire. Usually, the eyes of those she conquered were cold. His burned. She couldn't place the emotion, but she did know it wasn't hate. (Yep. This one definitely needs watching. Hmm...won't hurt my eyes. Nope, not a bit.) A giggle bubbled up in her throat, but she didn't allow it to
escape. It would ruin her reputation to be giggling like a schoolgirl. Even if she _was_ a schoolgirl.  Taking a deep breath, she got herself under control.

"Give me your name," Willow demanded softly.

"Aaron", came the almost purred reply.

She cocked her head, her eyes still on the vampire at her feet. "What do you think, Eric? Should we keep 'em?"

Eric answered, amusement and a bit of jealousy in his eyes. "If you wish, Lady. I think he would make a good pet, a statement for all to see. No one can stand against you."

She turned to him then, pleased. Touching his cheek briefly she said, "Bring him then. It's time to go. We've gotten all we need from here."

As she walked away two pairs of golden eyes watched her, then they followed.

Part 27

Willow sat in one of the chairs on Angel's dais, thinking.  She had arranged herself comfortably; sitting sideways on the upholstered, high-backed chair, her back against one arm and her legs thrown casually over the other.  Occasionally she ran her fingers through Aaron's soft blond hair as he sat relaxed at her feet; his head resting against her chair.

Sitting up, she looked at Eric. "As I understand it, in vampire tradition, if I were a vampire and wanted to claim someone-say a human-I would mark him in some way...probably with my bite...right?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Now, as I'm _not_ a vampire, it presents a slight problem, since I wouldn't leave the right kind of bite."

"That, my Lady, could easily be fixed," Eric drawled.

Willow scoffed at him. "Sure it could! But that solution would leave me with a whole set of new problems. No. What I was getting around to was asking you if this would be a suitable replacement."

She dug in the pocket of her pants for a minute, finally pulling out a silver medallion on a chain. Holding it out, she
offered Eric a look.

"My mark," she said proudly. "Do you think it's good enough?"

He held the medallion gingerly, studying it. It was the size of a quarter with a simple picture of a willow tree embossed on one side, and the letter "W" engraved on the other. But it wasn't really what he _saw_ that caught his attention; it was more what he _felt_.  He had a strong urge to throw it to the floor, as if, if he held it any longer he would die on the spot. Goose-flesh crawled across his skin, the hair on his arms standing high. Hurriedly he handed it back to Willow.

"What did you do to it?!" he exclaimed.

She gave him a strange look. "It's only a general protection spell. Kinda a 'don't-touch-me' thing for the wearer. I didn't think it would cause such a powerful reaction, especially when he's not even wearing it. But do you think it's good enough to be my mark?"

"Lady, that thing should be able to ward off a whole army of chaos demons," he told her gently.

"Perfect. It ought to do just fine against an army of vampires then, wouldn't you say?"

Willow got home late again, dawn just a few hours off. She collapsed onto the sofa in the house she shared with Xander. She was still in her "night" clothes but she didn't want to move anymore. It was a good thing that she had decided to tell him what was going on or she would have had to.

Yawning, she stretched out. (I really have to stop keeping the vampires' hours.)

Xander entered about a half hour later, slamming the door behind him, a worried look on his face. Willow must have dozed off because when she woke, jumping up because of the noise, Xander was standing in the doorway completely bewildered, just staring.

Willow, his Willow, the girl he had known almost forever, was wearing LEATHER! TIGHT leather! Extremely strange. A velvet shirt that was a deep, vibrant emerald-green made her eyes almost glow like a cat's as she sleepily, but steadily, gazed back at him. (What happened to the cotton? I liked the cotton!)

"You look nice" he finally managed, shaking his head as if he still couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Thanks."

"Willow? Why were you out all night again? Looking like that? I didn't know where you were." he said, his expression sincerely concerned.

"Well, you remember when after Angel left? He kinda left a mess behind, and I sorta cleaned it up." She yawned. "Oh! And before I forget...here." She gently slipped the chain of the medallion around his neck, and gave him a stern look.

"Xander, don't _ever_ take this off, okay? It's really important."

At his questioning look, she started to explain.

Part 28

Angel had spent over two months in Los Angeles searching for the Slayer, and he still hasn't come within a mile of her, let alone within speaking distance. Even if he did find her, what was he going to do then? Angel could just see himself approaching the girl and saying, "Hi! I'm a vampire and I live on the Hellmouth. A bunch of my vampire friends want to bring hell to earth. How would you like to team up with me to stop them?"

Oh yeah! Sure. That would go over _really_ well. He probably would barely get the "hi" out before he was dust.

And if that wasn't bad enough, now he only had one last contact to check, and then Angel would be out of options. He just didn't know where to look anymore. Everyone he had asked had told him just about the same thing, "The Slayer wasn't in L.A. She had killed Lothos and left town." The rumor going around was that he had been staked by a petite blond girl, and the rest of his clan had been dusted by a fire in a highschool gym. (But that had to be just a rumor! This is the Slayer! She most likely looked like one of those women wrestlers Xander is so fond of watching, not some delicate lady, like Willow.)

Angel sighed. He missed Willow's cheerful, curious company more than he could have believed possible. Sometimes it seemed as if he would never be able to return home to her. Total despair washed over him. How could he return without the Slayer? They stood no chance of defeating the Master without her, and he couldn't find her!

Suddenly and without warning the demon inside of him pushed against the smooth skin of his body, trying to slip out and overwhelm him. But Angel held it, tightening his control once again as he firmly clamped down on his emotions. The passion of his despair abruptly retreated, but a small sliver of fear remained.

This sort of thing was happening all too frequently as of late. Almost every time he thought of Willow being in danger, he felt a strong need to return to Sunnydale; to rip into shreds anything that posed the slightest threat to her. And always he felt a sourceless dissatisfaction at being so far away from her. He did not want to be reasonable, to console himself with the thought of actually finding the Slayer. He wanted to go home.

His demon had woven itself throughout his being so thoroughly that it was sometimes hard to tell where "Angel" left off and the "demon" began, but in this case it didn't matter. They were both in agreement: go home as soon as possible and protect Willow.

Angel came out of his thoughts with a snap as he recognized the place he was to meet his latest informant. A second later he spotted a man leaning up against the wall of the church. And shuddered. The man was wearing a loud plaid sport jacket with a bright orange shirt underneath, polyester slacks that were a primary Crayola green, and a white fedora hat. The man had to be a colorblind demon to wear an outfit like that.

Angel purposefully made some noise as he approached him, but the demon still jumped when he came into view. Angel smiled, trying to look harmless. He wasn't successful, but the other recovered enough to offer his hand.

"I'm Whistler. You the one looking for the Slayer?"

Angel refused his hand. Instead answering with a nod and a "yes".

"Why do you want her anyways? You gonna kill her?"

"No."

"You're not a very talkative fellow, are you?" The question didn't seem to require an answer and the demon carried on unprompted. "Well, it's too bad for you then that she's not in L.A. anymore. After gettin' into all that trouble at her school and what with her taking a little vacation from her home life, her mother dragged her all the way to some one-horse town called Sunnydale.  It's a shame. She burns down one little gym and her mother divorces her father and takes her to go live on the Hellmouth. Poor kid. What parents do to their children these days. I tell you it's a cryin' shame!" Whistler paused, looking at Angel expectantly.  Angel, having no clue what he wanted, started to hand him some money.

"No man! I don't want your money. But hey! You wouldn't happen to know where I could find a vamp named Angel do you? Brooding fellow, not too clean, kinda on the thin side? 'Cuz I'm looking for him. Supposed to help him 'be somebody'. Know him?"

Angel shook his head. "My name's Angel, but I don't think I'm the one you're looking for."

Whistler looked him up and down. "No. I don't think so either. Thanks anyway."

"You're welcome."

Angel watched, bemused, as Whistler walked away, muttering angrily to himself.

"...stupid...that be...wrong...again!...alternate..."

Angel shook his head. Some people were just plain _strange_. He was extremely grateful to him though. He didn't have to stay in L.A. anymore.

He was going home.

Part 29

(Something strange is going on here.)  Angel arrived in Sunnydale.  He had gone straight home, intent on finding Willow.  No Willow. He had checked Willow's parent's house.  No Willow.  He had checked the library.  No Willow.  Everywhere he looked had the same results. The Slayer was here, somewhere, they just had to find her.  But instead of looking for the Slayer, he was searching for Willow.  Neither she nor Xander had been anywhere, and Angel was worried.

There weren't any signs of vampires - not a one - and the scared him. Something powerful enough to drive the entire vampire population into hiding was enough to scare anybody.  Angel wanted answers.

Angel walked into the bar, every inch of him oozing evilness. Stalking up to the counter he made a big production of ordering "the good stuff ", tipping the seedy-looking bartender. "The good stuff " turned out to be some undrinkable weird glowing green stuff, but he didn't complain, just pretended to sip, listening quietly as conversations began again. If there was one thing common in all bars it was gossip - even one patronized by demons.

One conversation in particular interested him. A Thanagres dream-weaver sat speaking with a rather large fear demon.

"I never shought I would shee sha day when vampires started working sho...together." the dream-weaver exclaimed. She continued
drunkenly, waving her drink about for emphasis. "You musht be gettin' good work! Shat Mistress of zheirs musht have zhem shakin'
in zheir bootz. I mean, it musht h...have been over a month shinsh a human hasss died by a vampiresh hand, or teesh rasher....rather"

The four-foot fear demon considered her slurred speech, peering at her blearily in the poor light. "That's what's so strange about the whole thing. They love her!" he replied in a high voice, shuddering in revulsion. "Mostly, if they fear anything, it's angering her, and not even because of possible punishment! It's cause they don't want to disappoint her. It's not even a spell! It's real! The whole situation is funny, the whole lot are following her like baby chicks with fangs, attacking their own kind just because _she_ says so!"

A sinking feeling was beginning to take up residence in his stomach. For the first time since he was human, Angel thought he might be sick. (Sweet Lord, please don't let it be true!) Angel turned his attention to a different table, desparately hoping to hear something that would contradict what he'd already heard.

A prickly looking man with a southern accent was having what seemed to be a one-sided conversation with a yellow blob dressed in a red sock. "Yep. Ah hear she's a right bitch. Got 'em all trained better'n dogs." The man seemed to listen to something for a minute,
then spoke again. "I would not! I have bettah taste than to go trailing after some vampire queen!"

Angel had heard enough. Apparently God no longer listened to prayers. Anybody who'd taken over would have eliminated any sign of his previous rule, and he hadn't ordered anyone to protect the children before he'd left. They had been defenseless. (Maybe they're still alive. Maybe the Mistress has them, even if she saw no value in them. They could be hostages for my behavior.) It was a slim hope, but the only one Angel had. He urgently waved the barkeep back over, throwing a few hundreds down, he growled out, "Where will I find the vampire's queen?"

The bartender, eyes wide, stuttered out the location. Angel nearly ran out.

He circled the building. A lot of things were different; the windows were blacked over with paint, occasionally the sounds of laughter would reach his ears, but most telling were the guards surrounding the warehouse. There were four at each entrance. No one had spotted him yet but he could tell that they were being vigilant; there were only a few low words of conversation, quickly spoken, and
always their eyes moved searching the darkness.

Angel stepped into the streetlamp's light, hands loose at his sides, and slowly approached them. They were surprised to see him step out of the shadows they had been sure were empty, that they had not seen him, but they recovered fast.

"State your business," said the largest one, his tone brisk with an alert edge that spoke of discipline.

Angel answered calmly. "I only wish to speak to the Mistress."

The guards studied him with unfriendliness, but as he offered no threat they eased a bit. "By what right do you claim audience, stranger? The Mistress dislikes intruders. Why should she honor you?"

Before Angel could reply one of the others on guard whispered a warning. "Be careful David! Don't you know who that is?! He's the old Master, Angelus. The one who was here before the Mistress took over."

The lead guard sucked in a sudden breath, as his fear permeated the air his eyes narrowed with wariness. Angelus was renown for his savagery.

Angel smiled ruefully. "I am Angelus. But I only come to speak with your Mistress. Will you tell her that I'm here?"

The leader turned on his heel and left without another word.  The others exchanged quiet sighs of relief that there wouldn't be a need for them to fight the dreaded former Master, and waited nervously until David came back. They really hoped the Mistress didn't refuse this stranger his request. Things could get a bit bloody if she did. With their blood - not his.

They watched as Angel stared at the horizon, his very stillness fueling their unease. The tense interval which followed passed uninterrupted until David's return.

He emerged quickly from the dark interior of the warehouse, and if anything he seemed more pale than before. "The Mistress will
see you at once."

Angel entered, two guards ahead of him and two behind. He glanced questioningly at David.

David's manner was sharply guarded as he offered up an explanation. "Only three people ever enter the Mistress' presence unguarded. For you she makes an exception, but we still have to make sure that's where you go...with no trouble."

Angel nodded assent and they continued. His surroundings were a lot different from the last time he had been here. From the inside, the warehouse didn't look like a warehouse anymore, but more like a great mansion. It wasn't just one big uninterrupted space
anymore. He had entered into a richly decorated room. The floor was still concrete but it was covered most places by ornate rugs.
Pictures and bookcases lined the walls, and there was electricity.  But what surprised him most was that everything was clean.

Then he noticed something that he had not thought about in a long time. Or rather, he noticed it was missing. The dais was no longer there. Helpless anger overcame him, and his hands clenched into fists. He vowed to himself that if harm had come to Willow, this
Mistress that he had heard so much about would be made to pay dearly.

They passed through several more rooms, each probably as large as the first, in which people watched television, played cards or pool, and just generally relaxed. Finally they came to a large, dark wooden door. At David's knock, a deep voice commanded them to enter.

Once inside, Angel glanced around, baring his teeth. The expression was not a smile. A feeling of uneasiness; a prickling between his shoulder blades warned of peril, but except for a single man, the chamber was empty. Angel's sharp eyes missed nothing.

Seeing the dais sent a surge of relief through him, but it was unfounded. Neither Willow nor Xander were anywhere in sight, and amidst the display of wealth, he discovered a mind geared towards violence: the room was arrayed in strategic expectation of attack,
the wealth a distraction, a trap for anyone fool enough to challenge the Mistress of Sunnydale.

However, the other man present was not the Mistress, he was vaguely familiar; but if Angel had known him, he felt sure that he
would have remembered. The vampire reclining in the pile of cushions that were scattered on the floor around one of the throne-like chairs would have been hard to forget. His hair shone golden in the light, shoulder-length thick waves framing his face, and when he turned his attention to the laughter that suddenly rang out from behind the door he showed one of the most perfect profiles Angel had ever seen.

From behind Angel came an order to bow. He turned his attention to the guard, he did not see the three people who entered the room behind him. "I do not bow."

Angel had spoken mildly but with a faint tone of contempt in his voice, but because he was focused on the guards, as he had not seen Willow and Xander standing shocked in the doorway, so did he not see the rage that suddenly flashed across Aaron's face. Did not see him move.

In a fraction of a second, Aaron had closed the distance that separated him from Angel, and hit him. Hard. When Angel lifted his face, blood ran from his mouth, and he glared at the person who had dared to strike him.

"Aaron!" His name cracked the silence like a whip. He froze, stopping himself from again attacking the stranger who had insulted his Mistress.

The voice then addressed the guards that still surrounded Angel. "Leave us."

The voice was remote; a cool monotone that could have been carved of ice. It left them with no doubt of her disinterest. It also assured them that they did not _want_ to be of interest to her.  They left. In the Lady's presence everyone was obliged to move with caution.

(That voice!) Startled, Angel looked up. His eyes traveled up leather-clad feet and legs, passed over the long-sleeved lavender shirt, to a face that belonged to a girl he had begun to think that he'd never see again. (A woman, not a girl.) She was alive, and for that he thanked God, but what was she doing here ordering vampires around? What was she doing here dressed like that?!

Her chin was tilted proudly, and her eyes blazed with cold fire in a face that was white with anger. Angel backed away unconsciously, his knuckles turning white as his hands clenched into fists, as the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end.  Surprise was the least of his reactions, though that and relief played a large part of his feelings. Now that he knew she was safe, he could see the changes in her. She was no longer his little one.  He didn't know what it was, but Willow was different somehow, and not just the growing up part. He was glad her attention was not focused on him, it gave him a chance to study her.

Aaron stood straight; arms at his side, fingers splayed. His entire body trembled with tension that came from forcing himself to obey her unspoken command. The something that lurked behind his human body was leaking out through his eyes. The demon pushing against his flesh so that you caught a dark glimpse of something overwhelmingly alien. A low growl trickled from his lips as he saw Angel move. "Aaron." This time his name was said softly as his Mistress approached him. "Aaron, its okay. He didn't know who he was talking about. It can be forgiven."

He watched her face. It burned with intelligence, with a force, commitment, a determination that shone so fiercely it seemed to thrum through her skin. But her eyes shone with understanding.

She wanted him to forgive the stranger, and if she wanted it - he would.

Willow saw the tension begin to leak out of him. Aaron stayed very still until the vibrating energy died down and that awful looming presence of his demon slid below the surface once more. Then he very, very slowly, sat back on his knees, still watching Willow's face.

"Eric, why don't you take Aaron out, burn some of his energy off. Get something to eat, okay?"

Eric nodded and beckoned. As they were leaving, Willow called, "And take your time!"

(Willow's the Mistress?!) The truth settled into Angel's heart. She was the Mistress. The clues were all there now that he looked: her orders were obeyed without question, her clothes extremely different from when he'd last seen her, and the respect and the not-quiet-fear that seemed to surround the vampires while they were around her... While he was away she had grown up, and Angel had to wonder if she needed him anymore.

Xander took a deep breath, and it shuttered down his body. Then said sarcastically, "Gee, that guy needs a playstation! And look! Angel! So _nice_ to see you again. Staying long?"

"Now Xander, be nice. Angel was only doing what he thought best for us."

At Angel's obvious surprise, Willow's face lit momentarily with the happiness she felt at seeing him again. But the happiness was pushed aside by the anger caused by his leaving. She walked over to her chair and sat down; propping her chin on one hand.  Narrowing her eyes speculatively she asked in a sweet voice, "So Angel, did you find the Slayer?"

"No." Guilt and pain were clearly written across his features. "I'm sorry," he said, wincing as he watched her face absorb his words. "I never even saw her. All I know is that she's somewhere in Sunnydale."

"So you left us for nothing!" Xander broke in bitterly. "How could you do that? You didn't even say 'good-bye', you just left.  It didn't matter that Ms. Montgomery was dead, it didn't matter that Willow needed you, that I needed you!" Xander's voice had risen to a
shout, but trailed off into a painful whisper. "How dare you leave, and how dare you come back."

"Xander, how can you say that? Angel's back, and he's _sorry_. It's doesn't matter in the least that he left. It doesn't matter that he lied, or that he broke his promise never to go away.  It doesn't even matter that when he left that people died because the vampire's weren't under control. Nope. It doesn't matter because he came back and he's _sorry_."

Willow's tone was so sugary sweet it was bitter, and with each sentence Angel felt his heart crack just a little more because of the sweetly cruel words.

Xander was even more shocked to hear Willow be so cruel than when he'd first seen her in leather. He hadn't thought Willow would
ever intentionally hurt someone and even he could see the near despair in Angel's eyes.  He was also surprised when she jumped up and ran across the room to hug him tightly.

"Xander, can you please go home now? I'll be there in a little while, and I'll show you around some more later."

"Sure, Will, no problem. Do you want me to wait up for you?

Willow shook her head, and turned back to Angel as he left.  She closed her eyes, and a single tear slid forth from beneath her lashes. "I'm s..sorry, Angel. I shouldn't have said that. I know you di..didn't mean for any of those things to ha..happen." she said, trying to stop the sobs that threatened to break free.

"But they did happen didn't they? And I left you here to deal with them. I'm so sorry, little one." He brushed the hair from out of her face, and pulled her into a hard hug. "But you have to understand what we're facing. The old Master is imprisoned, but if Luke and his followers free him...he could destroy the world. He's a vampire over a thousand years old, he can use magic better than anyone I've heard of, and has tried once already to open the Hellmouth. If he's loose, he'll most certainly try again." He pushed her slightly away, looking into her face. "Willow, I can't defeat him by myself. I just can't do it. The only person who even has a chance is the Slayer. We have to find her."

"All right, Angel. If we need to, then we will."

Part 30

( C'mon Xander, you're running late, and it's only the first day!) Willow stood, scanning the crowd of hurrying students.  Noticing a disturbance, she stared hard, trying to pinpoint the source. Then with an air of faint amusement, moved down the stair as she saw Xander come into view-doing his best to ride a skateboard that he hadn't ridden for years, and which he'd never mastered in the first place. And not looking where he was going.

"Xan...!" (Too late.)

"Ummph!" Too busy looking at 'whatever it was', he crashed into the stair railing. Stunned, his rear and other parts hurting, he looked up a pair of white stockinged legs to see Willow looking at him worriedly.

"I'm okay. I feel good!"

After avoiding Xander's unknowing attempt to trip her, Willow carefully tucked her hair back behind her ears, and tried to straighten the awful dress her mother had made her wear. She was really happy that her parents were only staying for the rest of the day. They'd be gone by the time she got home.

Xander scrambled up and grabbed his skateboard. "Willow!  You're so very much the person I wanted to see!"

"Oh, really?" she replied, a hint of 'what for?' in her tone. Seeing that he didn't look too badly hurt, she started walking towards the school, Xander following.

"Yeah. You know, I kinda had a problem with the math."

"Umm...which part?"

"The math. Can ya help me out tonight? Pleeease, be my study buddy?"

Amused by his antics, Willow tried for a straight face. "Well, what's in it for me?"

"A shiny nickel!"

Confronted with his superior silliness, Willow gave in. "Okay. Do you have 'Theories in Trig'? You should check it out."

"Check it out?"

"From the library? Where the books live."

"Right, I'm there! See? I wanna change..." They had just entered the entrance hall when Jesse spotted them.

"Hey, hey!"

"Hey, Jesse. What's what?" Xander asked.

"New Girl!"

"That's right, I saw her. Pretty much a hottie!"

"I heard someone was transferring." Willow commented.

"So tell!" Xander demanded. Jesse, a little confused, looked at Xander. "Tell what?"

"What's the sitch? What do you know about her?"

"New Girl!" Jesse replied.

"Well, you're certainly a font of nothing!"

Jesse looked a bit hurt. "Well, I'm gonna get to class." As he started to move off down the hall, Xander asked if he was going to meet them for lunch. "Sure. Same place, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there."

When Jesse was out of hearing range, Willow pulled Xander to the side of the Hall. "Xander would you watch out for the new girl for me please? She could be the girl Angel's looking for."

"You gotta be kidding! _That_ girl the super woman? She's little!" He looked at Willow, giving her one of those up-and-down looks. "Nevermind. I'll do what I can, okay?"

"Alright. And don't forget to go to the library to get that book!"

"I won't!"

Willow gave him a disbelieving look.

"Fine. I'll go now. Happy?"

"Yep. See ya at lunch!"

After waving good-bye to Willow, Xander headed off to his locker to stash his skateboard. (Okay now, kiddies. Locker. Check.  Library. Check. Well, almost check. Feel like I'm walking in circles here. What if I AM? Ha. No. Umm...okay then, that's the principal's office. And the library should be...just around the corner. Good, okay, so this is the library. Now why haven't I been here before? Oh yeah! 'cuz it gives me the creeps! Book. Gotta get the book. Not gonna think about the strangeness. Nope. Not gonna.  Book!)

Xander looked around the library for a long time, incidentally missing first period. He was standing amidst the bookshelves in the back area when the new girl burst through the doors raving about a dead guy in a locker. He was surprised, to say the least, when the librarian asked her if the dead person was going to rise again as a vampire. (The librarian knows about _vampires_? The _librarian_ knows about vampires! Willow is SO not gonna like this. Hope she doesn't get the place too dusty.) Xander was shaken from his visual of Willow covered in dust by the man's next words.

"...you are the Slayer. Into each generation a Slayer is born, one girl in all the world, a Chosen One, one born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires..."

When the confirmed Slayer interrupted and started whining, Xander stopped listening, his thoughts whirling almost faster than he could keep up. (Okay. So what have we learned today, Mr. Harris?  One, there was a dead guy killed by vampires in school. Not good.  Two, the librarian knows. Three, the really hot blond _is_ the superhero girl. Four, there's lots of monsters in Sunnydale. Well, I already knew that, but now I know that other people know that too, and one of 'em is even of the grown-up persuasion! Yay! Umm...what number was I on? Five? Nevermind. I know the librarian is some kinda watcher of blond girls. That the girl he's currently watching is seriously stressed, also not a good thing. A stressed superhero is never a good thing. Well, I tell Willow, Willow tells Angel, and we do something about it. Whatever _it_ is. What are we gonna do?)  Sighing, Xander left the now quiet library, lunch could not come soon enough.

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