Another beautiful sunny day, Anne waited patiently on the swings. She knew Liam was coming to play. They had a play date; at least she thought so.

From the trees, a dark-haired little boy stepped out.

Anne hung back. That wasn't Liam. It was someone else entirely.

"Hi," Anne greeted him, hoping he'd respond. "I'm Anne. Who're you?"

"Ang'lus," the boy walked closer to the swings. He sat down on one next to Anne.

"You're Ang'lus? Nice to meet you." Anne looked around, "You ain't seen Liam, have you?"

"Nope. You seen Delia?" he asked her.

"Right here!" Delia said from the top of the nearby slide.

"Delia!" Ang'lus smiled. "You be careful."

She swung forward and slid to the bottom, "I don't need to worry. Today is the day."

A bolt of lightning shot through the cloudless sky, darkness suddenly all around them . . .

"Wake up!" Willow quietly poked Buffy in the side.

"Huh?" Buffy straightened her bowed head.

"You fell asleep," Willow hissed at her. "You can't do that in here. Even I know that."

They were in a church, sitting through the long prayer before the sermon as they waited to talk to the minister after the service.

"Sorry," Buffy yawned discreetly. "This is the third church of the morning. How many sermons do you think I can stay awake through after an all-night patrol?"

"Shhh," Willow reminded her. "I'm not even supposed to be in here."

"I know, but we have to," Buffy sympathized, bringing forth some facts about their situation. They had spent the last two weekends recruiting clergy for the web. It had gone extremely well, but they were still short for the 43 Sunnydale churches.

Willow had to come with Buffy, even though she was Jewish because Buffy couldn't spot a Blighter. The witch had enough difficulty with all the magic she was doing. The coven had recently installed quick get away teleportation spells in every web member's closets. `The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe' Effect Willow had called it, with team members able to teleport out to the mansion. Then there was the endless research as they tried to find the date of the actual last battle, and Willow had been actively testing the powers of the web. For example, by using Harmony as a volunteer/victim, she'd found that web members could and would not harm or injure each other for any reason without extreme pain. So now Willow started to test the degree of pain to which one received.

To make things harder on Willow in that department, Angel and Cordelia had come and messed up the web. Cordelia's place in the web appeared to be almost like a copy of Spike's, except she had nowhere near the power or command. However, she was at least twice as strong as everyone else, including Willow when it came to the new empathic powers. And Angel wasn't connected to anyone on the web other than Cordelia, who couldn't actually hear him. They were much like Buffy and Spike, but not alike at all. Willow was splitting hairs trying to figure it out.

Plus, anyone sharing a room with Cordelia in the mansion was not a happy camper.

On the good side, Spike was on his way home' his `voice' growing stronger in Buffy's head with every hour. She couldn't wait. The first thing she was going to do was kiss him. Then she'd yell at him for not calling or writing, followed by more kissing.

"Cordelia?" Oz whispered.

"Yeah?" Cordelia lifted her head from his shoulder where she had been sleeping.

"You fell asleep," he informed her.

"Sorry," she tried to straighten up. "Is the priest ready for us yet?"

"No," Oz said. They were waiting patiently in the priest's office. The priest thought he was counseling an engaged couple, while they were really there to see if he would join the web.

They had been paired together because Oz was a particularly weak empath, and Cordelia was a surprisingly strong one. The two strongest currently in Sunnydale were out with two of the weakest, Cordelia with Oz and Willow with Buffy. Angel, another one who was almost not connected to the web at all, was sleeping the day away in the mansion as usual. It bothered Willow to know end that Cordelia couldn't listen in on Angel's head, since Cordelia was the only person who should have been able to.

It was frustrating for Cordelia to listen to Willow try all her new theories out on her. Then again, Willow probably didn't like being replaced by Cordelia as the top dog on the psychic powers chain.

Speaking of dogs, or wolves for that matter, her hair was sticking to Oz's neck for some reason. She lifted her right hand to brush it off. His hand caught her wrist.

"You smell . . . like blood."

Shock covered her features, and she pulled her hand back swiftly. "What?"

"I can smell it, the blood." Oz said earnestly.

She blushed, thank God he was smelling her mostly healed right hand as opposed to her left. Shielding her hands, she decided to lie, "It's that time. That must be what you're smelling."

"I thought-" he looked down at her left arm in the sling.

"Well, don't. I'm fine. Keep those wolfy observations to yourself next time." She leaned away from him.

She knew Oz wasn't trying to make trouble, but she didn't want anyone to examine her too closely. It was enough that Giles knew what was wrong. Katra web or no katra web, her private business needed to remain, well, private.

"I understand you two had some problems you wanted to discuss before taking the next step," The priest said, opening the door to his office. "Won't you step inside?"

Mary Collins pushed the last of her bags into her beat-up red station wagon. Everything was in order. All documents from the police station had been mailed, evidence of her research was completely destroyed or out of her hands. There were just a few errands to run before she left.

If she was lucky, the errands would be short. She wanted to be well out of the Sunnydale town limits by the time night fell. Dangerous things came out then, creepies, crawlies, and the like.

She didn't have much to worry about.

Then again, with the dark figure watching her from the shadows, maybe she should have worried more.

"It's not my fault," Pike tried to calm the angry vampire. "I had nothing to do with the flat tire."

"You took so long changing it," Spike complained, annoyed that his return trip had been interrupted again.

"You're the one who couldn't get out of the car to help me change it because of the sun."

"Get in the car already," Spike growled. "Slayer's awaiting."

Oz was free. He was finally free. For the first time he could honestly control his wolf.

For the past three years, he'd felt like there was a black beast riding on his back. It told him what to do, what to think, what to fear, how to act. He'd lost his ability to choose, and the wolf had controlled him.

But now the tables had turned. He rode the beast; he'd beat it into submission. It still had its teeth, and he wasn't going to try anything foolish on that one, but he was in charge.

The web had been a godsend. It didn't just give him the power to control the wolf, he could change at anytime now, regardless of the moon. Perhaps it had brought the wolf closer to the surface, hiding just underneath the skin, but he was holding all the cards on this one. He was a human in wolf's clothing, not a wolf in human's clothing.

The mental energy it took to dominate the wolf was enormous. Without the added punch of the web, he'd have never had a chance. Even with the web, he used so much power on the wolf that the rest of his psychic abilities were practically nil. He could barely `open' and `close' the gate to identify his enemies. It was the psychic powers or the wolf. He chose the wolf.

Having the wolf so close had boosted all of his senses even when he wasn't wearing the form. He was stronger, faster; his sense of smell better, and his hearing and sight more keen.

In wolf form, as he was now, he might not have been as fiercely powerful in it as he had been before. On the other hand though, he wasn't mindless anymore. He could make rational, thought-out decisions. Like the fact that he had his clothes hidden safely so he could put them on after this patrol. The wolf could have never done that without the Oz.

Patrol. That was what he'd volunteered to do tonight. He knew the Initiative was still out there, but he wasn't going to get caught. The wolf would smell them long before they could get him. Besides, he wasn't going to chase anyone like he had last time.

Oz lifted a paw and tested the air. No obvious `wrong' smells as of yet. He barked shortly and bounded off into the trees.

"Good job team," Xander said in the mansion's new `strategy' room to all web members present. "As of this morning we have officially bonded thirty priest-types."

He picked up a pointer and indicated a large map of Sunnydale, "We now control these four sectors of Sunnydale. It's not much since there hasn't been a big push by either side at this point. On that subject, Giles is here to tell us about their latest findings."

Giles stood up from his place at the table, clearing his throat, "As many of you may well know, Wesley and I did not attend church this morning. We believe we may have discovered the prophecy that could accurately predict the date of the last battle." A collective gasp went up from all sides of the room. "Wesley?"

Wesley coughed as all eyes turned toward him, "That Watcher's Chronicles had a reference to the Blight which we cross-referenced in the Pentagram Codex, compared to the Bible, cataloged against the Iliad, which forced us to return to-"

"Get to the point here," Xander reminded him.

"Oh, yes," Wesley said, embarrassed. "We have 111days starting on the designated day."

The room was silent for the moment it took to compute that information. 111 days. That was about 3 and a half months.

"When do the days start?" Buffy raised her hand.

"We are unsure as of yet-" Wesley started.

"A terrible event is to occur that will plunge Sunnydale into the first of the 111 days of the dark war," Giles explained.

"So which kind of terrible event? Could it be a massacre or something Outbreakish?" Buffy asked.

Wesley answered her, "The bloodshed of an authority figure will start the war."

"Who?" Willow called out from the side, surrounded by her coven.

"More important, when? Is it possible to keep this from happening?" Xander questioned, drawing everyone's attention back. "If we understand when this starts, Buffy can stop whatever tries to put a move on an authority."

Buffy nodded, "Still, we need the `who.' Somebody important has to kick the bucket. They've gotta be big human-wise and demon-wise to spark this off."

"If this were last year, I'd put money on the Mayor, but since he was invincible then, and is now dead, I'm thinking `no.'" Xander agreed.

"What about Professor Walsh?" Willow piped up. "She was a big shot in the Initiative. Can the 111 days have already started?"

Panic began to creep into the web, affecting everyone except Angel and Buffy who couldn't feel it.

"No," Giles replied firmly. "It is to be a single death. There were multiple fatalities in that incident."

Cordelia suddenly attempted to rise. She tottered and fell, saying, "Angel."

She hit the tile floor with a resounding smack; her body contorting with pain. Twisting into an odd angle, her left arm fighting with the sling, Cordelia shook madly under the vision she was having.

Unable to catch her, Angel stood over her, watching helplessly as he made sure the others stayed back. This was her burden, her battle, something she had to face alone, much as he wished she didn't have to.

Opening her eyes at last, Cordelia looked up into Angel's brown ones. She was oddly reminded of the concern she'd seen in the boy on the swing during her dream. Angel reached down and picked her up, propping her against him so she could recover from the fall. She laid her head weakly on his shoulder, "It's today. I saw the death card. I don't know who it's for, but it's today."

Xander glanced at Buffy, "Is Spike arriving back in Sunnydale today?"

"Yeah. He and Pike should be here to meet with the web soon." There was fear in her tone. "You think it's him."

"He's the demon messiah since he let them out of the Initiative," Xander stated, sorry he had to tell her.

"And if some human were to take him down . . ."Willow began.

"Apocalypse," Buffy sighed. "Then we can't have him come here. It's all woods and humans. He needs to go someplace where no humans are gonna go at night, even a crazy one."

"We only control sectors in human territory. He'll have to go to a sector we don't have under control completely." Xander cautioned.

"I have one," Anya chirped up. "Send him to Willy's, and we'll get there first."

"Did you rig the teleport in the bar?" Xander checked with Willow and the coven.

"Yeppers, rigged better than a sailboat," Willow answered.

"Who isn't here right now?" Xander asked Angel.

Letting Cordelia stand on her own, Angel looked over the duty roster that he'd left on the table, "Other than Pike and Spike, Willy's not here, neither are Joyce and Oz. Willy's at the bar, Joyce is at home, and Oz is patrolling."

"Buffy, can you redirect Spike to go to Willy's instead of the mansion?" Xander requested.

"Can do, sir," Buffy saluted with a smile. "Already done."

"Any idea where he is right now?"

"No, Xander. Be glad he's going to Willy's instead. We don't exactly use words."

"Did you say Oz is patrolling?" Willow hesitantly asked Angel.

"Yes, he signed out an hour ago."

Xander snapped his fingers, "I was going to address our still missing codenames and my plan for matching team jumpsuits, but we're going to let Willow do her thing."

Willow concentrated, "First I'm going to tell Willy that twenty people are about to teleport into bar's broom closet."

"I've got it," Cordelia corrected her. "Save your strength for the witchy stuff."

Annoyance flashed on Willow's features for having someone supercede her authority. She controlled the impulse and said, "Fine. While Cordy contacts Willy, everyone follow me. Into the wardrobe we go."

The black car zoomed into Sunnydale, narrowly missing the infamous Sunnydale sign.

Spike turned away from the main part of town and headed into a small dirt side-road. He turned again onto an even smaller driveway and pulled into a small garage, hidden by some trees and decorated inconspicuously with three `Welcome to Sunnydale' signs.

"Out," Spike ordered Pike.

"We're meeting Buffy here?"

"No. From here we walk," Spike climbed out of the De Soto. "You see, in Sunnydale I'm a dead man. I don't make myself too visible."

"Oh," Pike couldn't think of a reply to that. "So, where are we going?"

"A bar."

"I see," Pike said, though he really didn't. "Can vampires become alcoholics?" He didn't understand why Spike started to laugh. They kept walking toward town.

Buffy sat outside Willy's with her chin in her hands. Waiting sucked. She wanted to see Spike, now. Two and a half weeks was just too long.

There was also that small issue of nervousness. It might have been the fact that she was seeing Pike for the first time in over three years. There was also the possibility that she was freaking out over having three men who loved her meeting. Not many 19 year olds could claim that.

Added to that mix was the fear. Cordelia predicted today would start the war with a death. If Spike was the chosen victim, he was in danger. Serious danger. So what if he hadn't written or called her, his one true love, since he left, and he was one hour later than she'd expected him, she still loved him.

She glanced at her companion, Harmony. Xander had picked her to be Buffy's back-up. Everyone else was waiting inside the bar, ready to help if something came that Buffy couldn't handle with Harmony.

*Yep, irony's pretty ironic sometimes.* It wasn't much of a surprise that she'd been paired with Harmony. Much of the rest of the group still had some serious misgivings about Spike.

Honestly, Buffy had some misgivings, but not about Spike's dedication to the cause.

Buffy pulled the cross Eve had left from her jeans' pocket. She worried that he was too dedicated. There was so much about what Eve and Drusilla had passed onto Spike that she couldn't understand. Being a seer was a job possibly worse than being a slayer. Everything depended on Spike's ability to hold the web together. He wasn't just his own person anymore; he was everyone's person, scary as that was.

Stuff had happened in Vegas, Buffy knew that. He hadn't contacted her, but she had learned about it through the ever-present mental contact. She didn't know what had gone on, other than it was something that he had been expecting.

Hopefully, he'd come to the bar. In one piece.

So she was waiting with Harmony. That was great.

It was quiet, almost too quiet. Sunnydale was unusually silent for an early Sunday evening. Maybe the citizens knew something she didn't. Or maybe they knew exactly what she knew: stay inside tonight.

While she put the cross back, her ears caught the scrape of feet on pavement. As her sense of Spike doubled, Buffy saw two black and red clad figures walking down the street. She instantly recognized them as Spike and Pike.

Buffy choked back some laughter. Pike in black and red? Had he raided Spike's closet? Had Spike let him?

Spike. He was getting close. So close she could almost taste him. A few minutes now.

Oz sniffed deeply. There was something in the air that bothered him. It smelled wrong. It spelled trouble.

If he had been stronger with the web, he would have called others. But he wasn't. That left him with one choice. Oz turned and lopped off in the direction of the disturbance.

They stood facing each other in the street, Buffy and Harmony to Spike and Pike.

"Hello, Spike," Buffy greeted him, stiffly trying to keep her emotions under control. She was exactly three whole seconds from flinging herself into his arms.

"Hello, Slayer," Spike's electric blue eyes pierced hers, bright with tension. He tilted his head toward Pike. "I'm sure you know Pike."

"How'd he take it?" Buffy asked, assuming Pike had been filled in on all things Sunnydale, including her life from Angel to Riley to Spike.

"He doesn't know a thing," Spike informed her calmly.

"You didn't tell him anything after two weeks-" Buffy's statement was stopped when she saw ten vampires emerge from a store and charge Spike and Pike from behind.

There were no words. Harmony reacted instantly, grabbing Pike and pulling him onto the porch with her. Buffy drew her stake, took three running steps, hand-sprung over Spike's head, and landed directly on the chest of the leading vampire. It took her less than a second to stake him.

Buffy dodged one as it leapt at her, letting it fly over her head. She delivered a high kick to a black-haired vamp who tried to bite her. The vampire fell back, and Buffy buried the stake into its heart.

Seeing two of their number dispatched so easily, the remainder drew back cautiously. Then Buffy had a chance to watch them with a much different type of caution. Those weren't fledglings, they had to be minions. They were older and coordinated to work as a team, considering how they stood together in a group. That meant this wasn't a random attack; those vamps were an assault force, suicide troops here to take out that one special someone.

"Are you going to help out one of these days?" Buffy asked Spike.

"You know how much I admire your work," Spike replied, finally turning to join her.

"I've got our odds at 3 to 8. No fair, to them." Buffy said confidently. "I think I can make it even more unfair."

Judging the distance to both the pack and Spike, Buffy reached into a pocket and pulled out one of Xander's newest toys. Hand grenade a la holy water.

When she threw it into the undead pack in front of her, it was akin to boiling oil landing on a troop of knights. Standing so close together suddenly didn't seem so safe as their skin blistered and broiled.

Not wanting another taste of that, they ran at Buffy and Spike.

Swaying slightly to the left, Buffy tripped one, forcing him to knock down two others. She stabbed him in the chest, instantly dusting him. Wasting no time, she drove the stake into one of the two on the ground, but as she went for the next one, he rolled out of the way, and her stake snapped on the ground.

Meanwhile, Spike was taking his time dispatching three more. Not bothering with finesse, he tore the head off one, and punched his fist through another's rib cage. The last one turned tail and headed for Buffy. Spike tackled it from behind and proceeded to rip it to shreds with his bare hands.

One blonde vampire passed the two fighters to go after Harmony and Pike. Drawing a crossbow from her back, Harmony coolly shot it to dust.

Buffy circled her opponent carefully, gauging his abilities. He was an older vampire than the others and was therefore infinitely more dangerous. He was big too, his reach at least six inches longer than hers. She wasn't worried much, except that she didn't have a stake on her now. She would have to improvise.

He feinted toward her head. She waited for him to draw back his arms and flung herself at him. Crashing into his chest, Buffy landed on top of him, knocking them both down. Seeing her neck so close, the vampire opened his mouth to bite.

"I don't think so, blood-breath," Buffy shoved one of the grenades down his throat. He melted faster than the Wicked Witch of the West, and Buffy began to stand.

"Buffy! Look out!" Spike shouted, throwing a stake to her from his place on the ground. She caught it, pirouetted quickly, and drove the wood home into the remaining vamp that had snuck up behind her.

Spike's and Buffy's eyes held for a second, hazel to blue, drawing close. They were motionless, she on her feet, he crouching on the ground. Close, closer, closest. Five steps apart, and screaming silently for each other.

"Buffy!" Pike ran to her and threw his arms around her.

"Blondie bear!" Harmony followed suit with Spike.

The contact weakened by the others, Buffy tried to concentrate on Pike. He looked good, older, but good. His leather jacket was still there, so was the smile that had helped her through those painful days after Hemery. The clothes, though, they were still Spike. "Pike. I'm so, well, so happy to see you." Buffy glanced over at Harmony embracing Spike. That bothered her. She addressed them coldly, "We need to get inside."

Harmony linked her arm with an annoyed-looking Spike's, "Come on, baby. Buffy's right." Buffy glowered at Harmony's chosen position and wrapped her own arm around Pike's waist.

That was how they walked into the bar and took a table in the center, Buffy across from Spike and sitting next to Pike. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that confrontation was in the air. The web was nearly shrieking with the rage building up inside of Spike.

The rest of the gang was trying to watch as inconspicuously as possible. Willow was sitting with Angel while Wesley and Giles shared a table with Tara, Amber, and June. Xander pretended to be in deep conversation with Anya, Jeremy, and Rowan while he kept a close eye on Buffy, Spike, Harmony, and Pike. Cordelia sat by the bar itself, splitting her attention between the four newcomers and Angel, whom she knew this was going to hurt.

Aware that this was not a typical gathering with a `normal' crowd, Pike dubiously examined the room and said one of the oldest lines in the book, "So, do you do this sort of thing often?"

"What? Do I try to raise my own army to fight legions of darkness?" Buffy favored him a half smile, happy to see his sense of humor had not changed. "Only once a year or so."

"I helped last year," Harmony placed her head on Spike's shoulder.

Buffy bristled, anger rising higher. She kept her attention centered on Pike. "How was Vegas?"

"The usual, running from vampires, gambling, drinking," Pike shrugged. "What's with you and bars?" The question was directed at Spike.

"I do my share of drinking," Spike answered, glaring at Buffy who was sitting much too close to Pike for his comfort.

"Yeah, so much drinking that you couldn't call or write to tell us where you were," Buffy snapped at him. Maybe she was being unreasonable, but he ticking her off.

"Look, Slayer, I saved your boyfriend, protected him from the web, and I brought him to Sunnyhell in one piece."

"You didn't tell him about Sunnydale, the web, or-" Buffy caught sight of Angel attempting not to listen in.

"The kid doesn't know anything," Spike spat back at her, pulling away from Harmony. "What's your problem?"

Buffy stood, yelling, "My problem is that you're being such a jerk." Her voice shook with repressed emotion.

He walked over to her, getting in her face. "Glad to be home too, Slayer!" he shouted at her, demon on the surface.

*Clang!* Anya dropped her spoon on the floor. Everyone but Buffy and Spike looked at her. "What?"

Buffy scowled at the intrusion, "Let's finish this elsewhere." She flipped her hair and strode off past the bar into the back billiard room.

"My pleasure," Spike stalked after her, slamming the door closed behind them.

They stood there, facing each other for a half second, unable to put words on what they were feeling. Air sang between them, high pitched and reaching a crescendo as their anger burst into a new kind of inferno.

With a harsh growl, he dragged her to him, kissing her fiercely. Equally ferocious in her desire, Buffy grabbed his neck, slicing her tongue on his still sharp fangs. He purred loudly, drinking down her hot, sweet elixir.

The need to be one was so strong it hummed between them, demanding satisfaction now. It had been more than a month; their bodies were screaming for each other. There was absolutely nothing else in the room, the city, the country, the world, the universe. If they didn't get together now, death seemed like a good option. The battle of their mouths reaffirmed the bond, pushing them closer than physically possible. Essences mixing like water, they breathed each other as if they needed it to live.

And maybe they did. He was her center, the force that made her fly beyond the stars; the person she'd do anything for. She was his light; the glorious blaze that burned away all the pain and darkness that was him. Her body raged for him, wanting him more than anything she'd ever craved. His desire for her outweighed his need for blood. Merely tasting the rich flavor of her made him need her all the more.

Releasing her, Spike spun her, pulling her back into his chest. His hands roamed her breasts restlessly as she ground herself into the hard bulge in his jeans. Lips brushing her neck, Spike fought to return to his human face. Crying with want, Buffy gasped, "The table."

Spike saw the billiard table she was referring to and picked the Slayer up, tossing her onto it. He pulled off his duster with desperate haste to climb after her.

Their mouths met in a kiss, Buffy pushing him backward onto the table. "Love you," he panted against her mouth, exploring her body through her clothes.

"Ditto," she replied, tracing the hard lines of his arms. She straddled his hips, rubbing sinuously against him, pleasuring them both.

Strong arms gripped her shirt and peeled it over her head. Suddenly on her back, wearing just her bra and pants, Buffy lifted her hips in invitation as Spike pumped hard against her.

Neither of them had any idea or care as to what was going on elsewhere.

The room was quiet for a few moments. Pike cleared his throat awkwardly. "I take it this is normal?"

Harmony reached across the table to hold his hand, "They're always like that." She grinned, "I'm Harmony."

Pike took her measure, noticing how cold her skin was to serve as a basis for his suspicion that she was a vampire. On the other hand, she was quite pretty. "Harmony? I'm Pike."

Anya scooted her chair closer to Xander's, "I'm bored. Can we do something else?" Her voice was very suggestive.

Loving how sexy she was in this kind of mood, Xander rubbed her stomach. "What did you have in mind?"

She licked his ear with her tongue, "Sex."

Rowan and Jeremy were already kissing.

"So you do research?" Tara asked Wesley with interest.

"Yes, I like to read," Wesley wondered why he hadn't noticed how lovely her eyes were.

"What else . . . do you like to do?" She propped her chin on her hands.

"Lots of other things," he assured her, extending a hand. She took it.

She smiled, he smiled, Giles smiled as the two other witches twined their arms around his neck.

Oblivious to the actions of everyone else around him, Angel eyed the door where he'd seen Buffy and Spike leave through. He was so absorbed his own unhappy thoughts, he didn't notice Willow move and slip into the booth next to him.

"Angel, I'm sorry," she touched his arm.

"Why?" he asked sadly, looking down at her sweet innocent face.

"Because you hurt. I know what it's like to hurt," she said simply. "I wish I could make it all go away."

He leaned back, eyes toward the ceiling. "No one can."

"We can try," she whispered and slid onto his lap, facing him.

All other thoughts flying from his head, Angel stared. Sweet, innocent Willow was on his lap, in a skirt hiked up to her thighs, her legs wrapped around his waist. His body responded to this pleasant new burden in its typical fashion, hardening against her.

He liked Willow, a lot, but he'd never expected her to act like-

That last thought was cut off because she grasped his head and kissed him.

He kissed her back, opening his mouth to receive her aggressive tongue. She was warm and soft, tasting like a mix between strawberries and cola. On their own apparent violation, his arms pulled her closer, inhaling her like a drug.

Mary Collins kicked her car in frustration. She wasn't even out of Sunnydale. Stupid errands that took so long! Stupid car! She didn't have a spare, and it was night.

A click warned her of someone approaching. She turned and was blinded by lights shining in her face, held by three dark figures that she could barely make out.

"Mary Collins?" One asked her.

Shielding her eyes, Mary asked, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Mary Collins," the voice repeated. "You have been quite the busy bee. It has come to our attention that you have been associating with some known hostiles."

"I don't know what you are talking about," Mary tried to remember where her sidearm was. Damn it! She'd left it in her glove compartment!

"It is also our understanding that you have been asking questions and that you have taken some documents of some sensitivity from the police department files," the voice stated calmly. "Either you yourself are a hostile, or you are in league with them by stealing information from the police."

"What the Hell are you talking about?!"

Without any warning whatsoever, he shot her in the left leg. Collapsing under the weight, Mary crumpled, and the figure went on, "You have in your possession some material we want, including the psychological profiles of some documented hostiles. If you give them to us now, we'll let you live."

So that was what they were looking for, her transcript of the interview with the suspects in Rupert Giles' house. She wasn't going to give up those college kids. "I don't have anything," she gritted her teeth; the pain was that strong.

"Wrong." The gun fired, hitting her in the gut.

Mary screamed, instinctively reaching for her stomach. Her hand came away dark red, and she knew without a shred of doubt that she wasn't going to make it out of this one. She'd seen enough corpses to know what blood that red signified. It heralded a slow painful death through internal bleeding if she didn't make it to a hospital soon.

And it didn't look like she was going to get any help getting to the hospital.

Her thoughts fled back to that strange man's words a few months back, `People who start looking too hard end up in one of two places. Dead or in this house.' He had tried to protect her from this, and she'd went ahead and made her own choices. Now she was paying the piper, but there was no way she was going to give those bastards the satisfaction of getting anything out of her. "I told you I don't have anything."

"You do not understand the situation, Officer Collins. Either you help us as an associate, or we will deal with you as a hostile." The figure motioned to his two friends. They turned off the lights, and Mary saw three masked commandos armed to the teeth. "For the last time, will you give us the documents?" The gun was trained on her.

She could see the suspects they wanted the files on: the dark-haired boy who the feminist girlfriend, the gentle redhead who had such grief, the gruff librarian that cared for the athletic blonde that couldn't date healthily, and her crazy boyfriend who seemed to have seen the future. They weren't bad people, for all they were weird, but they were completely innocent. And that was her job, protect the innocent, no matter the cost to herself.

"Go to Hell!" Mary shouted, aware that it was probably her last act on earth.

His hand tightened, a resounding clap of thunder as he ended her life with a bullet square on her forehead. Her head fell against her car, eyes frozen open in death.

"Search her car," Riley Finn holstered his gun. "Forrest, see to the body."

Forrest didn't move. "I thought we were just going to scare the information out of her."

Riley grabbed him by the collar, "She was aiding and abetting hostiles. Remember Adam? Remember what happened to Professor Walsh because of him!" Riley seethed. "So do you have a problem with my orders, soldier?"

Glaring at him, Forrest forced out a quiet resentful, "No, sir."

"What was that!" Riley shook him.

"I said, `No, sir!'" Forrest snapped to attention.

"Good. I'll help you with the body then." Riley let him go and aimed the next question at the other commando in the car, "Find anything?"

"No, sir," he replied. "She must have mailed it once she removed it from the police station."

"Then we'll check the LAPD and her home later," Riley took an arm out of a bag.

Forrest recognized as the twin of the one that had been used to make Adam. A polgara bone skew, the only piece they're rescued from the remains of the frat house. He knew what they were going to do with that gruesome prize: make an even more grisly scene.

"Come on. We need to get cutting," Riley commanded.

Praying briefly for Mary's soul, Forrest helped them start slicing.

Oz watched them mutilate the corpse from his hiding place in the tall grass. He'd seen the entire thing. The wolf wanted to charge them and tear them limb from limb. The human in control knew the woman was far beyond his help and to attack three armed men would be suicide.

Lacking any other options, Oz raced off in the other direction, depending on scent to lead him to the rest of the gang.

Cordelia sat on the bar next to Willy. Funny how she'd never seen how handsome he was. Maybe he was a little old, and he was short, bordering on bald, but something about him beckoned to her.

She ran one of her hands across his head. He smiled at her, enjoying the direction they were moving in. She might have been young enough to be his daughter . . .

She wondered why she'd never thought about just how sexy Willy was . . .

*Freeze frame.* Cordelia stopped herself. She was thinking about Willy here. Willy the Snitch. Not possible.

Taking one look around the room, Cordelia saw something was seriously whacked. Angel and Willow. Xander and Anya. Pike and Harmony? Why was this happening?

The answer was too easy.

Breaking the compulsion to kiss Willy, Cordelia grabbed a cup of water from the bar with her lightly bandaged right hand. She staggered the three steps toward the billiard room door, her body still being pulled to the nearest available male.

Shouldering the door open, Cordelia's suspicions were confirmed. Buffy and Spike were on the pool table, two steps from doing the wacky. Both naked from the waist up, they were too involved in kissing each other to notice her.

In fact, they didn't even hear her clear her throat several times. When she saw Spike start tugging Buffy's waistband down, she acted. Cordelia threw the water on them.

Spike came up sputtering, "What?"

Buffy blushed, curling her knees up to cover her chest, "Ummm, Cordelia . . . "

"I don't care," Cordelia snapped and glared at Spike, "You are projecting onto everyone in the web, and unless you actually want Willow going down on Angel right now, I suggest you slap up a shield."

Eyes widened, Spike concentrated. The pressure in Cordelia's head instantly lessened. She examined the couple's state of undress as she heard the first scream of disbelief ring out, "I'd get dressed too. You probably should explain why Giles almost got into a threesome with two of the witches."

Buffy groaned, and Spike leaned his head on her shoulder, "Bloody Hell."

She kissed his neck, "No kidding."

All of the explanations had finally been doled out, clothing had been straightened (fortunately no one had gotten too far), and everyone had calmed down after, as Xander put it, a good amount of hysterical deafness. That wasn't precisely true since the bar was now divided into his side and her side with the notable unembarrassed exceptions of Anya and Xander and Buffy and Spike.

Willow also wasn't looking at Angel for any reason, and Pike was more than a little dazed because he had just become a full-fledged member of the web since Spike had stopped shielding him altogether. Not to mention the small amount of shock he'd gone through between making out with Harmony and finding out who Spike's girl was.

"Every time one of you use any amount of mental power, I feel it," Spike had moved onto explaining some off the effects the bond had on him. "The more of you who use your powers, the harder it is for me."

Buffy patted his head sympathetically from her place on his lap, "On the plus side, it's not very bad."

"Yet," he reminded her.

"I have some good news!" Willow said from the left side of the room.

"What?" Giles asked, sitting on the right, far from the coven.

"Well, I've spent this talk examining the web, and I think I figured out why Cordelia and Angel look so much like Buffy and Spike web-wise."

"Why?" Angel questioned, equally far from Willow and the coven.

"Cordelia is like a substitute Spike. If Spike were to die or something, she'd inherit the web. Angel is Buffy's mirror, but his link is to Cordelia, not Spike."

"Then why can't he `hear' her or her `hear' him?" Anya popped her gum, holding Xander's hand.

"I don't know," Willow admitted. "We have another plus too though. Buffy and Harmony kept Spike from getting killed, so we might have stopped the 111 days from starting, and we won't have to worry anymore."

The door swung open, and Oz ran in wearing a pair of pants that definitely weren't his. "Mary Collins is dead."

"Then again, worry," Willow changed her mind.

Mary Collins had been known to the core Scooby Gang members for interviewing them that one time. She was a policewoman and therefore an authority figure. Not good. Not good at all.

"I think we're going to need those codenames after all," Xander said grimly.