Buffy paced, trying to hear as much as she could from Spike. Their connection was by no means silent, but it was muted. Afraid to endanger him on what was delicate work, Buffy ignored her desire to deepen the contact.

To keep her mind off it, Buffy observed everyone else's actions during the wait. Like Spike had predicted, Willow had needed to calm down, but Angel hadn't been the one to provide the relief. It was Xander who had gotten her to go eat something. The two of them were on one of the lounge's couches talking quietly. Angel, on the other hand, was glowering at them from the stairs, though Willow threw him an occasional angry glance.

Buffy almost considered going to Angel. Yet she couldn't because all of the talking about Faith had brought up that old pain to the surface. The sorrow of loving Angel had faded in her, but she knew that the sorrow of loving her had not faded in him. Approaching him would be cruel.

The policewoman, Kate, stayed with Giles for a long time. Buffy wondered how she had missed that budding romance. Kate wasn't in the Mansion very often, nor did she go on regular patrols. She also probably couldn't form any lasting relationships with the members of the Sunnydale PD. Giles was a nice . . . relatively handsome (judging by her mother's opinion) . . . older guy, and Kate seemed to be in her thirties. He was in his early fifties . . . While this subject wasn't something Buffy tried to think about, ever, at least it wasn't illegal.

Wesley, on the other hand, almost made Buffy laugh. Or choke. He and Tara were reading books together. Now that relationship scared her a little. Not only because it was barely legal, but the whole idea of Wesley finding someone weirded her out. They were both quiet and bookish, so she shouldn't be too harsh on them. They had a lot in common, like . . . books . . . and other boring stuff. . .

Anya and Oz were down at Willy's getting dinner. Their significant and ex-significant others were otherwise occupied. Still, Oz, Willow, and Angel were all giving off some type of strange vibe that confused Buffy. Something had happened. Angel and Willow were almost a couple, but Willow wasn't seeking the company of either Oz or Angel. Had the three of them had an argument? When had they had time to argue if Oz had been out all day with Cordelia?

Speaking of Cordy, she poked her head out from the downstairs, "Ummm, guys-" Everyone focused on her. "You need to get down here. It's time."

Dr. Goldenvich was drawing Faith's blood as Spike addressed the group from his reclining position on another gurney. "All right, kids, here's the deal: we've got Faith. And we've made her sane. To keep her that way, though, we need to make a few adjustments around here."

"Such as?" Giles asked.

"For example, I cluttered up her head about dates. I've packed as many major events from the past two years into one year of her memory."

"Won't that be a little confusing? She's gonna think it's last year. How do we hide that?" Willow ventured.

"We're telling her she was hit on the head during patrol to account for the partial memory loss," Forrest volunteered.

"There are some new truths that most of her memory is fixed on. There was no Mayor. He did not Ascend. The high school was destroyed by a lizard demon the same night Mary Collins was killed. Stuff happened basically the same since then till now." Spike cleared his throat and launched into the touchier subjects, "No deputy mayor, no killing. Oz and Angel never left Sunnydale, and Wesley and I never came to Sunnydale. We showed up this summer."

"I object to that!" Wesley was indignant.

"Wes, she hates you so much that it's better you mean nothing to her," Spike told him.

"Wait a second. I want to be sure I'm reading this right," Oz said. "If you never came to Sunnydale last year, and she still thinks this is last year-"

"Are you saying I didn't break up with Xander?" Cordelia exclaimed.

"And that means-" Angel's eyes fell on Willow.

"Everything is the same as it was last year. Everything!" Spike bit out angrily.

"No." Buffy's voice was hushed when she realized exactly what that entailed. Her hand gripped the chain hanging around her neck. "I can't do it. I won't."

"What is she complaining about? I should be complaining. Cordelia thinks she'll get my Xander," Anya complained.

"Luv, it's only for two days until she leaves," Spike attempted to reassure his Slayer.

His Slayer wasn't having any of it, "You can't ask me to do this."

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling us. You think I don't know whom this is going to cause trouble for?"

"I still don't understand what her problem is," Anya reiterated.

Angel broke his silence, "Spike is saying that when Faith wakes up, as far as she knows, Willow is with Oz, Cordy is with Xander, and Buffy is with me."

"Then where am I?" Anya was shocked.

"In Faith's world, I don't think you exist," Angel answered rather unsympathetically.

"I don't exist? That's not fair!" The ex-demon protested.

"Join the club. I don't exist either," Spike checked the clock. "We need to get on this now since we'll need the entire day and a half to brief her to leave with Forrest. This masquerade has to be perfect, no flaws. You got ten minutes to work things out to a point that you can shield any problems from Faith. Everybody take five minutes with your current snogging-partner, talk things out, and then take five minutes with your ex to do the same."

"I don't need my five minutes," Buffy spun on her heel and ran up the stairs all the way up to the room she shared with Spike.

After she violently kicked the bed twice, she sat down and put her head in her hands.

Spike was being such a pig. Did he think making her fake-date Angel was fun?

*No,* the logical part of her mind insisted. *He hates it even more than you do. Nothing makes him unhappier than having to see you with Him.* Her touch with Spike through the web only confirmed it. He was miserable, but they had no other choice.

Buffy opened up the bottom drawer of her nightstand. She placed Spike's ring on the chain inside the drawer and reached for something else buried in the very back corner.

The claddagh ring.

Forcing back the urge to sob, Buffy put the ring on, heart pointing inward.

Cordy and Oz looked at each other awkwardly, the others having long since left them alone in the lounge.

"I don't have anyone new," Cordelia said plainly.

"Me neither," Oz shrugged.

Silence.

"I don't like this. Anya's right. It's not very fair. Why did they get to move on? I tried, and all I got was demon impregnated."

More silence.

"I don't care. Oz, let's pretend we're together so I can do the good-bye scene," she decided.

"Ummmm . . ."

"Oh, Oz-" Cordelia held her arm theatrically over her forehead and proclaimed, "I cannot believe the God-like psychic vampire who brainwashed the psycho Slayer is forcing us to pretend to date our ex boyfriends and girlfriends."

Oz gave her a slight smile, "Same here."

"It gives me much pain and soul-tearing agony to be parted from you for the next two days," she grasped his hands in hers.

". . . I'll miss you too," Oz agreed, awkwardly.

"Though I am returning to the arms of the man I used to play wild and passionate tonsil hockey in the broom closet with, I'll think of you every minute." Cordelia threw her arms around his neck, "I'm scared. Hold me."

Oz wrapped his arms around her waist.

"This is where you ask if there is anything you can do to help," she hinted into his ear.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Oz said dutifully.

"Promise me you'll wait for me?"

He took a deep breath, "I promise."

"I love you," Cordelia covered his mouth with her unbandaged hand and gave him a dramatic stage-kiss.

Angel pulled back from Willow, "I know this is going to be hard for us."

Willow, a bit dazzled and gasping for air from the intensity of the kiss, nodded, "Hard." She leaned in and tried to get another kiss.

He held her back away from him, "I'm serious."

She stood back on her heels, "I am too." Willow ran her hands up his arms, "I want to be with you. When I'm with Oz, I don't want to think about why I used to love him. I want to think about you. Every second. Every minute. It's you I want. You're all I want."

"Willow, I need you to promise me something," Angel kissed her hand.

"What?" Worry crept into her voice.

"No matter what happens, you'll wait for me. With all those old feelings coming, tell me you'll wait for me." He stroked her hair with gentle fingers.

"Are you scared that you'll want Buffy back?" Willow stared up at him, afraid of his answer.

His hand stopped mid-stroke. "No. I just want to be sure my favorite redheaded witch comes back to me," he lied, looking at the claddagh ring already on his finger, heart facing in.

"You are going pretend to be with Cordelia," Anya paced in front of Xander.

"Yes, ma'am. You don't have to worry about me and Cordy-"

"I know I don't. Cordelia hates you."

"Thanks, An."

"Well, the first time she visited Sunnydale, you two couldn't say a nice thing to each other," she pointed out. "Naturally, I took that as a sign it was over."

"We always argue. It's like foreplay," Xander clapped his hand over his mouth when that slipped out.

"I'm going to pretend I did not hear you say that. I trust you. I do," Anya assured both herself and him.

"You know you can trust me," Xander told her.

"Just in case, during those two days with Cordelia, there will be no kissing."

"No kissing, no problem."

"Also no sex."

"That goes on the list after kissing?" He hastily corrected himself, "No sex."

"No talking dirty."

"No problem there either."

"No touching."

"No touch- wait, don't you think it will look suspicious if I never touch my girlfriend?"

She considered it, "I guess touching is okay, but all the other stuff is off limits."

"Fine with me."

"Good. As long as we're clear." Anya glanced at her watch, "Two minutes left. Not enough time for sex."

"I'm glad you think so, since I don't think Cordy would appreciate walking in on that," Xander said.

"Can you hold me until we have to trade?"

"I can do that," Xander welcomed his girlfriend into his arms.

Midpoint

"Did you see which way Xander went?" Cordelia asked Angel, the first person to invade the lounge.

"Willow?" Oz indicated the door Angel just vacated.

"She's there," Angel confirmed.

Throwing a brief look at Cordelia, Oz bolted for the door. Angel didn't even notice. "Where did Buffy go?"

"I believe I had the first question. I'll talk Buffy after I get an answer."

"I don't know. Buffy?"

"You're really stuck on that," Cordelia commented, eyeing Angel carefully.

"Can you tell me where she went?" Angel kept on the same tack.

"All right, Cordelia," Anya came in through another door. "It's your turn. Don't touch my boyfriend."

"Don't worry. I can keep my hands to myself, but can he?" Cordelia tossed her hair over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Angel, "I think Buffy's in her room. Nice to see you've got the ring on already."

"Here's the ground rules, trademarked by Anya. No kissing, sex, or talking dirty," Xander listed for Cordelia.

"All things I wasn't planning on anyway," Cordelia continued, "I have a few additional rules."

"Hit me."

"We can touch, but if your little hands wander, I'm going to give you a mental bitch-slap so hard that your head will explode." To punctuate her message, she pointed her right forefinger at a vase behind his head. The vase blew up, barely missing him with the debris. "Got it."

Xander brushed of his clothes in the event he had been hit. "I'm good. Did I mention I hate you?"

"I hate you too," she reached for his hand. "As long as we're clear on that, let's go face the Faith."

"Hi, Willow."

"Hi, Oz," she greeted him solemnly.

"Are you ready?"

She shook her head, "I can't pretend this is fair. I won't pretend it doesn't hurt. I'm not going to pretend this is easy. No pretending for this witch."

"Don't pretend. Just be you, Willow," Oz said gently, taking her hand.

Her eyes closed as their fingers entwined. "And I can't pretend this doesn't feel right."

"Neither can I," Oz tightened his grip oh her hand.

"No one has ever let me be me the way you do. No hiding. No games. Only me, and only with you."

Oz's answer was sad, "I wish things weren't this way. You, me, Veruca. Things were never supposed to be like this."

Willow almost pulled away at that, "But they did happen that way, and we can't go back." Bowing her head slightly, she asked, "Can we get this over with?"

"Sure. Whatever you want."

Buffy was sitting on her bed, staring blankly at the wall. When Angel entered, she didn't turn to acknowledge his presence. He stood beside her for a minute, debating whether to speak or not. There was so much to say, but he couldn't put any of it into words. Simply watching the pain in her features made him long to take her in his arms.

At last he extended his hand to her. She woodenly placed her hand in his.

Faith opened her eyes and focused on the face above her. The Watcher.

"Hi, there . . . Giles," Faith was able to recall his name from the fogginess in her head.

"Praise God. Are you okay?" He helped her sit up.

"I'm fine," Her body protested after such a long period of disuse. "Oh, it feels like I've been lying there forever."

A shadow crossed Giles' face, "A while, yes, but certainly not forever."

Her head seemed to be full of blurry images, "What happened?"

"You were injured on patrol. Severe concussion, but it appears that you will recover fine with no adverse effects beyond some small memory gaps."

"Really, that's comforting," she stretched her arms. "So, am I allowed to get up? Or is it too soon? Not that I'm gonna listen anyway, but I would like to get out of this pastel hospital gown."

"We did wake you a bit prematurely. A little more time would have done you some good, and you are the Slayer, but the situation has escalated to the point where we need you," Giles admitted.

"So what happened during my nap? Somebody die?" Faith started to get unsteadily to her feet.

"Don't worry," Giles rushed over and steadied her tottering figure. "First we'll get you dressed, and then there are a few people who are dying to see you alive and well."

"Hey there, B and Angel!" Faith, now comfortably attired in black leather pants and skin-tight tank top, called to the first people she saw. She was somewhat startled by the blank spot the two were projecting in her mental picture. "Wow, it's almost like you two aren't even here."

Buffy lifted her head off Angel's shoulder, "How are you feeling?"

"Five by five," Faith stepped confidently toward Buffy and swept the hair off Buffy's neck. "And what have we here?" The bite mark on Buffy's neck was displayed for the whole group to see. "Looks fresh. Angel, you bad, bad boy."

Buffy didn't blush, but Angel did and dodged Faith's eyes.

Before Faith could say anything else, Xander spoke up, "Could you please not remind me of Buffy's hot vampire-loving."

"But he's so buff," Faith pressed on Angel's bicep. He looked very uncomfortable, and Buffy just rolled her eyes.

"But he's so undead," Cordelia broke in from her place on Xander's lap.

"And he's a werewolf," Faith addressed Oz who was sitting on the couch holding Willow's hand.

"My werewolf," Willow reminded her and snuggled into Oz's shoulder.

There was a strange choking noise that caused Faith to turn back to Angel and Buffy. "What's going on? Aren't you guys supposed to be on patrol or something?"

Forrest stumbled into the room, a folder in his hand, "I've got the patrol schedules."

"And who are you?" Faith eyed the newcomer with interest. Shaved head and all, he was a fine specimen in his combat fatigues.

"Forrest," he replied, and Faith got the impression she was being sized up.

Giles stepped between them and took the schedules, "Forrest is the reason we woke you up so soon, but that is tomorrow. First we have other assignments." He opened the folder, "Willow and Oz, you have kitchen duty. Xander and Cordelia, you have mission briefing with Forrest. Buffy, Angel, and Faith, you'll be part of Team Magician tonight in Sector 3."

"I'm Faith," she stepped past Giles and shook Forrest's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he said with military politeness.

"The pleasure is all mine," Faith got closer, not letting to. "But it could be all yours."

"Faith," Buffy said warningly.

"Shut it, B. I was just going to ask Mr. Forrest here if he could help me get ready for patrol. You will help me, won't ya?"

Seeing Xander nod at him, Forrest said, "Certainly."

"I'm going to have to put dark colors on my face tonight," she put her arm around Forrest's waist and grazed his hips with hers. They moved toward the cafeteria door. "It worked last time. And as they say, once you've had black, you never go back." Her hand dropped down and gave his butt a hard squeeze.

Faith smiled when Forrest cleared his throat. Buffy and Willow could stick to vampires and werewolves. Give her a military beefcake with a nice firm ass any day.

"Did I push Forrest through the door in time?" Anya questioned Spike anxiously form the next room over.

"Just in time to keep stupid Peaches from shoving his foot in his mouth," Spike told her, having carefully monitored Faith's emotions through the conversation.

"How's Xander doing?" Anya needed to know.

"Like a pro. He and Cordelia are saving the day," Spike set down the vial of blood he'd used to simultaneously bring Faith out of the coma and join the web.

"Xander has always been very, very good at that," Anya gushed. "And I get to say that because I am really his girlfriend. His real girlfriend."

A different door opened, and Pike stomped in, "What's going on, and why aren't I scheduled to patrol? Is this a punishment for last night's disaster?" He stared at the two people in the room, not used to seeing Spike and Anya alone together. "Where's Buffy?"

"Buffy is going on patrol with Daddy Dearest and Faith. You are not going on patrol because I need you and Anya," Spike answered calmly.

"You do? For what?" Anya was instantly suspicious.

"I am going to take a walk. Outside of the mansion," Spike announced.

"You can't," Pike said flatly. "It's not safe for you."

"Let me rephrase. I am going to take a walk outside the mansion."

"That wasn't rephrasing!" Anya objected.

"I'm taking a walk whether you like it or not. And you two are coming with me," Spike smiled, almost condescendingly.

"No. Buffy would kill me," Pike refused.

"She should be the least of your worries right now. You should be a bit more worried that I am going to walk out of here on my own. Supposing you don't come, it's very likely that I'll collapse somewhere and get killed. Which would definitely kill Buffy, and probably half the web," Spike's grin grew even more.

"We won't let you leave," Pike crossed his arms over his chest and placed himself between Spike and the door.

Spike stood up and pinned Pike with a dark glare. "Wanna bet? None of you have the stones to stop me." He got right in Pike's face, "Either you let me go alone, or you come along and help."

"This is blackmail," Anya said, "I'm not coming."

"Sure you are. Take one for the team," Spike urged, not backing down from Pike.

She considered it, "Well-"

"Besides, what are you going to do here? Mope around for Droopy-boy?"

"Oh - fine. I'm coming," Anya conceded.

"Pike, in or out?"

With great reluctance, Pike relaxed his arms and said, "In."

"Continuing the Faith-story - this is the famous Mayor of Sunnydale," Xander flipped to a slide of Mayor Wilkins. He and Cordelia were in the strategy room giving Forrest an in depth briefing on Faith.

"He turned into this." *Click.* A slide of the demon head.

"Also this." *Click.* A slide of the body.

"And this." *Click.* A slide of the tail.

"That is one large hostile," Forrest was awed.

"It was bigger in person," Cordelia sniped. Xander rolled his eyes.

"As far as we know, this was her first human kill," Xander showed a slide of the Deputy Mayor. "His name was Allan Finch. She mistook him for a vampire and staked him."

"Poor girl. That's a tough break," Forrest said.

"Tougher for him," Cordelia pointed out.

"I could do without comments from the peanut gallery," Xander told her.

"You could make this a little faster and more interesting," Cordelia yawned.

"Sorry it doesn't fit your requirements for Cordelia's Best Presentation Award. Should my visual aids be flipping my hair and sticking out my chest?" Xander retaliated.

"Speaking of sticking it, where's Anya?" his ex-girlfriend shot back.

"Okay!" Forrest interrupted. "I see why you two had to break up, for safety reasons. Could we get back to Faith? It might be important to my survival."

"No problem. Back to things we were supposed to be doing, this is Kakistos, a vampire that killed her first Watcher." *Click.*

"I've never been on kitchen duty before," Willow idly stirred the soup on a stove, gingerly touching the saucepan with a cloth potholder. "I think it's because I'm not too good at cooking."

"I'd have never guessed," Oz said as he threw out the bread she had burned in the toaster.

"I'm a computer nerd. Not a chef. My mom put me in front of a computer when she found out a blender was too advanced for me," Willow picked up a salt shaker. "Do you think the soup needs salt?"

"What kind of soup is it?" Oz walked toward the stove.

"Vegetable beef, I hope," Willow examined the salt thoughtfully. "What do you think?"

Oz shifted his face into wolf mode, tested the air, and changed back, "I think you should add pepper."

Willow numbly set down the salt and stared at him in surprise.

"Willow?"

She blinked once and stammered, "Your . . . face. I - I didn't - expect . . . wolf."

The realization dawned on him, "You've never seen me do that?"

"No. Not really. We don't patrol together, for good reason, and I haven't been spending a lot of time with you. I knew you could change back and forth."

"But you didn't know I could stop in between."

"The last time I saw you like that was Halloween. You chased me away," Willow remembered.

"I wanted to protect you from the wolf," Oz defended his actions.

"You didn't have to do that. I trusted you," Willow stated firmly.

"I didn't trust me," he stressed. "You don't know how hard it was."

"That's because you didn't tell me. You wouldn't share it with me. I thought we were a couple. You problems are my problems," she stopped on that. "I mean, your problems were my problems."

"I never meant to hurt you," Oz explained and handed her the pepper.

Dropping the potholder on the stove, Willow reached for the pepper. Their hands brushed briefly, and Willow jerked her arm back for the touch had let her hear Oz's mind very clearly. The pepper fell to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces as Willow's elbow collided with the pot of soup. The pot toppled backward onto its side, spilling its contents toward her.

Willow stuck out her hand and concentrated. The soup froze exactly where it was, four inches from her. She took an unsteady step away, already so close that she could feel the soup's scalding temperature. Her arm trembled slightly under the effort it was taking to keep the soup suspended.

"Need help?" Oz asked, seeing her blanch. He made a motion toward her and the stove.

"Don't!" Willow almost shouted at him. She leaned heavily on the stove. "I can move big stuff pretty easily. My fine control, not so good. And I had to catch the veggies and the meat, not just the sauce." She squinted, and the saucepan righted itself. "Give me a few seconds."

The potholder, left forgotten and very close to the burner, chose that moment to ignite. The rush of heat was so sudden that Willow lost mental control of the soup. It started to fall-

Things got confusing from there. First she was airborne, and then it became very dark. She was being rolled back and forth on the floor in the dark. Finally, the dark was gone, and she saw she was on the floor with a shirtless Oz on top of her.

"Are you okay?" His eyes were wild.

"Yeah," she sat up and found her head had been propped up on Oz's T-shirt.

"Your hair was on fire."

"Oh," she looked blankly at him. His chest and shoulders had various burn marks, covered in a sticky orange. "You're hurt. You pushed me out of the way of the soup - Oh, no! The soup!"

Scrambling to her feet and running at the stove, she saw the fire was thankfully out since the potholder had been utterly consumed. A wave of dizziness hit her. Oz grabbed her waist and pulled her back before she tumbled forward onto the glassy remains of the pepper shaker.

"Did we save any?" Willow craned her head to see the pot.

"A little," Oz turned her around. "It doesn't matter. We're going to the med lab."

"Why?" Willow struggled against his grip, wanting to get back to the soup.

"Your shoulder."

Willow checked her right shoulder. It was fine. She checked her left. "Uh-oh." It was not pretty at all. "This is bad. I'm in shock, aren't I?" Her left shoulder was black with what she could easily identify as second and third degree burns. "This is not good." She fainted.

"We need you to wheel left and flush out the Vaders hiding over there," Ethan instructed over the radio to the Fyeral demon that the Tarot had affectionately named George due to everyone's inability to pronounce its given name.

"Errm?" George was having difficulty processing those instructions.

"Run at those trees?" Buffy simplified the directions, pointing at the trees for his benefit.

"Rrremm," George grunted in acknowledgement and headed toward the stand of trees fifty yards away from Buffy's position. Team Magician had located a group of Vaders holed up in the clearing and was on task to eliminate them.

Buffy cocked her crossbow from her kneel, "How many?"

"Ten," Faith peered over the log they were using for cover.

"Get ready," Ethan cautioned Angel as George disappeared into the trees.

Four seconds later a group of green armored demons came boiling out away from where George had entered. They didn't get very far. A gout of flame shot out in front of them form where Angel and Ethan were waiting for them.

Faced with fire in front of them and a huge demon in the trees, the demons turned tail and ran the other way, now toward Buffy and Faith.

"Now?" Faith readied her crossbow.

"Not yet," Buffy kept still as the distance between their hiding place and their intended prey closed. "3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . fire!"

TWANG! The two Slayers fired simultaneously, and two demons went down with neck shots. Both were able to reload and get off a second shot as the demons milled around trying to understand the new threat.

While the Vaders were still confused, Faith repeated, "Now?"

"Now!" Buffy vaulted over the log and drew her long sword from her back. Faith followed suit, war-whopping at the top of her lungs.

From his vantage point, Angel thought the ambush was going quite well. Then he looked through his binoculars and saw something about the demons that spelled trouble. He took off toward the fight in a dead sprint.

"Dammit," Faith swore as she cut through the armor on one demon's shoulder to sever its arm. "These - creeps - won't - die." She sliced off his other arm. It didn't even notice; it lurched at her. Faith sidestepped its attack and shoved her sword through its forehead. It shrieked and exploded into a foul smelling green cloud.

"One down, five to go," Buffy went after another demon, stepping over a body.

"Not exactly. I don't think-" Faith started, but sensed something and shouted, "Roll right!"

Not sure why, Buffy rolled right and narrowly missed the blade stroke from one of the `dead' demons. In fact, all the Vaders they had taken down with their crossbows were climbing to their feet. "Not good," Buffy backpedaled.

"We turning tail?" Faith called over her shoulder.

"We could wait for the cavalry," Buffy considered and then smiled, "Or we could kick some ass."

Faith returned the grin, "Now we're speaking my language." And they went at the demons outnumbered two to nine in a flurry of blades and fists.

Angel tackled the nearest Vader and snapped its neck. It tossed him off its back easily and stood up unfazed. He took in its bejeweled forehead and acted. Sighing, he flipped his double-barreled shotgun off his back and blew off its head at point blank range. He pumped his gun and blasted the head of the next-closest demon to kingdom come.

Then he was faced with a dilemma. He'd have to engage the rest in hand to hand combat because the fighting was too close quartered to use his shotgun. Buffy probably didn't remember the demons from before, and Faith certainly couldn't, but who needed more help? Faith had less in front of her than Buffy did, so Angel went to help Buffy.

Buffy was having a great time, feeling her sword singing in her hand. It was practically part of her, making her in feel invincible, though there were four armed demons circling her from all sides. She twirled the sword in a series of complex motions that instinctively found its way underneath the armor of the demons, wounding them deeply with each cut. The move took her in a complete circle, and she was partway through the final criss-cross slash when she froze.

The demon dissolved in front of her, and her blade stopped two inches from Angel's face. Every muscle in her body quivered with the energy it had taken her to stay her hand. "What are you doing?"

"I thought you needed help," Angel looked over the knife he'd driven through the demon's head from behind.

"I didn't," Buffy carelessly spun her sword backward and bisected the top half of a demon's head that chose that moment to attack her. "They're Maura demons. I know how to take care of them, but you could help Faith a bit more."

"She's fine," Angel dismissed it. "I was worried about you."

"Bull," Buffy moved toward Faith. "I wasn't in a coma."

Finally catching up, Ethan came upon the scene, "Maura demons? Help the other Slayer!"

George, who had made it there too, nodded and grabbed Angel's arm and took him toward Faith as the dark-haired Slayer dispatched one of the three demons she was facing. Ethan zapped one of Buffy's two remaining demons in the forehead with electricity while Buffy efficiently stabbed her final demon in the jewel.

"Why are you doing this?" Anya watched Spike down a shot of whisky from her place across from him.

"Doing what, luv?" Spike poured himself another one. "Drinking like a fish?"

"No, I understand the drinking part," Anya looked around the bar she and Pike had helped Spike break into. "I don't understand why you are letting this charade go on if it bothers you this much."

"Because I have to," Spike drank the next shot.

"You didn't have to. What are we getting out of it?" Anya asked.

"Next bottle," Spike motioned to her. She glanced at Pike who keeping watch out the window. "Give me another one!" Pike reluctantly nodded, and Anya handed Spike a full bottle of vodka.

"What are we getting out of it?" Anya went back to her previous question.

Spike twisted the top off and took a long slug straight out of it, "We are getting two operatives in one of the two enemy camps."

"But it's making you miserable," Anya observed.

"It's called sacrifice. You should try it sometime," he started to address the ceiling. "You hear that up there? I said `sacrifice,' as in me. I'm sacrificing, and I most not be fricking drunk enough yet!" He drank more vodka.

Continue......