"You want to work together?" Angel's arms were crossed against his chest; his mouth was twisted into an expression of mild incredulity. He peered across his desk at the blond girl standing with her hands on her hips.

Buffy shrugged. "Don't see why not. You've got the Magnum P.I. thing going on here; I've got the original demon-fighting team. We're both being plagued by the same cult."

"Cults," Angel stated flatly.

"Right. With the Xof thing you and Andrew discovered." Buffy puffed out a little air in frusturation. "Cults. Yay. But that's just more of a reason that we should - "

"I never said it was a bad idea, Buffy."

"You didn't?"

Angel stood up. "No. I think you've got a point."

"Really? 'Cause the last time we tried teaming up, I remember somebody having a hissy fit about an org chart."

Angel shot her a warning look. "I didn't say I was ready to sign on the dotted line. The org chart thing's an important part. Who's going to run this consortium?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "You think we need to divvy up leadership?"

"Have to know who's making the final calls," Angel stated calmly.

"Fine. I don't suppose you'd let me run things on my own." She looked at Angel, who was sitting on the edge of his desk, waiting for her to continue. "No, I didn't think so. You won't let me run it solo, and I'm not really inclined to take orders from you."

Angel smiled wryly. "You never were that good with authority."

"No," Buffy said, "and I've had some bad times on both the giving and the taking." She sighed. "Okay. I don't like this whole rigid structure thing you seem so keen on imposing, but we'll just be co-people in charge. Does that work for you?"

Angel nodded. "For the most part. What if you and I have a conflict, though? Final authority needs to be determined."

"Fine," Buffy said. "If it comes down to a final decision, we'll just ask Gunn. Now, Wil and I found some information on a doctor in L.A. --" Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the Caller ID, but the screen said Restricted. "Huh. I should take this." She walked into the front office and plopped down at Dawn's desk.

"Hello? ... Hey, you! Long time, no convo. ... I know, I know. What's up? ... Oh. ... Yikes. ... No, thanks for the warning. I'll get on it. ... Tell Sam that I'm doing fine. ... Don't worry. It's under control. I'll let you know. ... You too. Don't be a stranger. Bye." She tossed the phone back into her purse and headed for the exit.

"Sounds like a case," Angel said, leaning against the frame of his office door.

"Uh... sort of. It's something I'm doing for a friend," Buffy said.

Angel nodded. "And how is good ol' Riley Finn these days?"

"How did you... vampire hearing. I always forget." She rolled her eyes. "Riley's fine."

"Good. So, were you gonna just waltz out of my building without telling me what our case is?"

Buffy's eyebrows shot up. "Our case?"

"We just formed a partnership. Fairly informal in its arrangement, but a partnership."

"But this has nothing to do with the cults," Buffy pointed out.

"So? Every minute you spend on this case is a minute taken out of our joint investigation. I'd rather help you out here, lighten the burden, so we can get on with our case," Angel said. "So, what's the deal?"

"Demon on the loose. I was just going to gather up the gang," Buffy said.

"Sounds like you could use some extra feet. Cover more ground."

Buffy looked at Angel for a few seconds. "Okay. If you want in, we could probably use you." She sat back down at Dawn's desk, pulled her cell back out of her bag, and started searching her autodials.

Xander gave the tomato a light little squeeze. "I don't get it. In the movies, people are always squeezing tomatoes. I'm not really feeling any 'super tomato' vibes. It's mostly just 'hi, I'll be your pizza sauce tonight.'"

"Not a big fan of the farmer's markets, huh?" Willow asked.

"It's not that. Men with booths selling food I wouldn't typically eat? Makes me feel like I'm back in Africa."

"Well, I love 'em," Willow grinned.

Xander smiled half-heartedly. "You're in a good mood, Wil."

"Well, I'm hanging out with my best friend, which, y'know, UNO games aside, is pretty rare. Plus, I got a call last night. From Kennedy."

"No kiddin'?"

"Yeah. She couldn't talk long. She's back in England doing some extra training. Said she'd be out of contact for a little bit, but she'd get in touch when she could."

"That's good." Xander said, prodding a nearby nectarine.

"What's up with you? You've practically got a little black cloud hanging over your head."

"Oh, it's nothing," Xander said. "Spike's being a pain. Like that's a surprise." His cell rang. "Hold on. Hello? ... Willow's with me. ... Oh. ... Got it. Yeah, we're on our way."

Gunn ran a hand over his left leg. Felt good to feel real warm flesh under there again.

His doctor looked over the chart in his hands. "I know your first instinct with being out of that cast is to go walking around, but that's just not going to happen. That leg's never going be what it was, and it's still weak from disuse. Even with the physical therapy, I'd like you to stay in the chair for a couple months at least. Then we can talk canes, maybe."

Gunn grinned, still looking at his leg. His phone vibrated briefly; there was a new text message. Gunn read it quickly and nodded. "Gotta run, doc. Duty calls."

"It's not like I got anything against the blighter," Spike said to his companion. "Well, okay, yeah, I don't like him in the least. He's a brain-dead twit without the sense of a talkin' novelty bear. Drinks all my beer, too. But, beyond that..." Spike furrowed his brow. "Sorry, what was I sayin'? Huh. Guess it wasn't important." He took a pull from his beer.

"Here's another thing, though, that I cannot suss out at all," he said. "Buffy, right? We go on that bloody talk show, have a little chat, and then I don't see her again much after she leaves Angel's that night. I mean, can't blame her much for the side step before. I mean, I was right in there with the avoidin' and whatnot. But after? Seems a bit rude to accuse a fella of all manner of impropriety, and then just voom off.

"Still, thanks for comin' along, mate. Starts to get a bit pathetic, drinkin' by yourself." He tipped his head back and finished off his glass. "Donkey's balls, this American swill is absolute... swill. You want another?"

Andrew weakly shook his head. "Haven't really started my first one."

"Oh. D'you mind if I, then?"

Andrew's cell phone rang. As he dug it out of his jacket pocket, he pushed the brew across the table to the vampire. "Andrew here," he answered. "Oh, hey, Buffy. Just doing some Watcher's Council -- Interesting. ... No, I know where to find him. ... We'll be there."

Spike dug a few wadded up bills out of his jeans and tossed them on the table. "Sounds like we're up. What'd she want?"

"There's a demon, and he's running amuck in San Diego."

"And she needs my help?"

"She needs everybody," Andrew said. "Let's go."

Atrius Schiavelli had traveled the planes of existence. He'd seen the splendors of the most stunning triple sunsets, beautiful fields of grain being plucked by eight-armed demons, and giant demon cities built of pure, polished bone. He'd also seen the living flames of the darkest hell dimensions, the grungy industry platforms of the slaver factories, and the most twisted, perverse monstrosities the human mind could conceive - and some that it couldn't.

The prone sorcerer tried to remind himself of all of this, but he kept coming back to one indelible fact - he'd never been more horrified in his entire life.

The sallow-skinned demon was standing above Atrius. Its gigantic frame seemed to fill the room. The stench of sweat-soaked leather coming from the beast's ragged armor was nearly unbearable. The warmth of its hands pressed against the wrist it held between them. The sensation of strange skin against his own only increased Atrius's discomfort.

The demon rubbed a hand over its bald pate. It opened its mouth to speak, exposing rows of perfectly jagged teeth. "You're killin' me here, Atrius. I asked for one thing. One thing. And you do not give it to me. Where do you think that leaves me, Atrius?"

Atrius didn't respond.

The demon sighed and tightened his grip on the mage's wrists. "You're making this much harder than it needs to be. Will you do what I ask or do I gotta do something you're gonna regret?"

Atrius didn't respond.

"Okay. You are not the only one. You're the best, though, so this makes me just a little sad." The demon slapped his meaty foot against the wizard's chest. "I didn't want it to come to this, but... I'm not a man who enjoys disappointment. I know you understand."

Tears welled in the corners of Atrius's eyes. He bit down on his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. For a few seconds, he felt nothing. Then, he felt a little pressure around the right shoulder. It was followed by the most excruciating pain he'd ever experienced. Raging agony poured like a waterfall of fire throughout his entire system.

He barely registered the pressure in the other shoulder.

"Avengers assembled!" said Xander. "What's the sitch, Buff?"

The gang gathered in the offices of Champion Investigations. Unfortunately, the space wasn't designed for such a large gathering. Xander and Willow sat on the desk, Dawn and Spike had grabbed the chairs, Gunn, of course, had his wheelchair, and Andrew sat cross-legged on the floor. Angel leaned against a wall and watched Buffy talk.

"Early this morning a breakout happened at a local military containment facility. I called you as soon as I heard."

"Military? I didn't hear anything on the radio," said Gunn.

"Buffy's got connections," said Willow. Angel and Spike both snorted and rolled their eyes, then glared at each other.

"The details are a little fuzzy," began Buffy.

"They would be, wouldn't they?" interjected Spike.

"- but we know that around 4 AM, the main security system and both backups went down, and they had a bunch of other things go screwy. Several different demons escaped. They've caught them all, except this one." Buffy produced a piece of paper with black and grey smudges on it. The briefees squinted at it.

"Is that a Krockaf demon?" asked Andrew.

"Krockaf demon? I thought it was a Lurquas demon," said Dawn. "With the wings on the right?"

"No, those are the horns," said Andrew. He tilted his head sideways. "Or maybe it's a Frathra, and those are its tentacles."

"Looks kind of like Martha Stewart to me," said Spike.

"I thought it was an eggplant," said Willow.

"See, and I'm just seeing smudges," said Xander.

Buffy shot Angel a triumphant look.

"Okay, maybe I could use a new fax machine," he admitted.

"You tried to receive a fax?" asked Dawn. "And it came out in one piece?"

"I've got a fax machine at my place," volunteered Andrew. "If, uh, you still need one."

"Thanks, Andrew," said Buffy. "It's a Lorq'vir. We'll get the rest of the files later, but here's the scoop - big bad demony thing on the loose. Very smart, very nasty. They think it's going to try and find a way home, so it'll be looking for a sorcerer to open a portal."

"So?" asked Gunn. "Why not let it go?"

"Because the opening of the portal warps reality," said Angel. "There's no predicting what might happen."

"I was going to say that," said Buffy.

"I'm participating," said Angel.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Okay, here's the deal. We're going to need some research. Since Andrew's got a fax at his place, why don't a couple of you head over there. Riley's got a guy who's sending us everything he's got on this thing."

"I'll look through some of the books here," said Dawn. She got up and started selecting books from the shelves.

"Maybe you should take the books to Andrew's," suggested Angel. "It's better if you're not here by yourself."

Buffy nodded. "Good idea."

"I guess I'm back to being research girl," sighed Willow.

Xander gave her a one-armed hug. "I'll research with you, Wil. We don't need no stinkin' mojo."

"Oh, cool!" exclaimed Dawn. "You can help me carry the books over there!" She had already gathered a sizeable stack.

"Angel and I will patrol and see if we can find any sign of this demon," said Buffy.

"I should go with you," said Spike.

"No," said Angel.

"We need someone to check out this shop," said Buffy quickly. She handed him a handwritten address. "It carries a lot of magical supplies, and you should be able to get information on local sorcerers who could perform this type of spell."

"Right," said Spike. "Come on, Charlie-boy."

"Wait - you've got a cell phone, right, Gunn?" Buffy asked. Gunn nodded. "Okay, Dawn's command central, so I want everyone to check in with her once an hour. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Gunn, mock-saluting her. He and Spike left.

"Dawn, keep me updated on what you find out."

"Yes, ma'am," Dawn grinned.

"Angel, you ready?"

"Yes -" he caught her glaring at him "- Buffy."

"You kids behave!" called Dawn, as Angel and Buffy left.

Xander looked at the stack of books next to Dawn. "So, anyone know where I could find a wheelbarrow?"

It was a daily service like no other. The Renraw brethren could hardly maintain their traditional stances as they gazed upon the form of The Reborn One. It was feminine in form, but gender was beyond such an exalted creature. It stood next to Lord Prefect Nivel on the balcony as he carried out the daily readings in his customary fashion; his booming bass voice contained most - but not all - of his exhilaration.

Illyria stared at the sheep. Mewling humans willing to lay down their pathetic lives for an opportunity to bask in her presence. The Qwa'ha Xahn bleated passages from scrolls written after she had been imprisoned in the Deeper Well for several millennia. They held no significance. Words were meaningless in her day; only a being's actions held import.

Nivel finished the final passage and cried out to the assembly before him, "In the name of the Reborn One!"

"In the name of the Reborn One!" they chanted back.

He turned to Illyria and bowed. "Would you care to speak to your devoted followers?"

Illyria tilted her head. "I will speak to you alone. Now."

"Of course." He nodded to the congregation. "Back to your work, all of you. There will be more opportunities to stand in her magnificence later today." He opened the door to his office and Illyria swept past him. Nivel entered the room, making sure that he shut the door to nosy eyes and ears.

"These followers you have laid before me are weak. They would be dead within moments of a battle on the scales you speak of."

Nivel pulled his robe off. "They are aware of this, O Reborn One. They would gladly die in the service of --"

"Their deaths... They do not concern you," Illyria peered at him, almost past him.

"Do they concern you?"

Illyria glared. "A strong Qwa'ha Xahn does not question the God-King on such matters."

Nivel bowed his head reverentially. "Forgive me." He took a deep breath. "Your moment of glory is upon us, Illyria. You shall ride upon the bones of the conquered mortals and feast on their flesh. With our armies at your side, you shall lay waste to the fools who would oppose your reign. There shall be a palace in your --"

"You presume much," Illyria said coldly.

Nivel looked at her quizzically.

"I have not yet accepted your worship."

"I - I don't understand, O Reborn One."

Illyria turned from Nivel and strode to the entrance. "I loathe explaining myself." She threw open the door. "I shall return. At that time you will know my decision." She broke into a sprint, flipped off of the balcony, and dashed out of the building before the Qwa'ha Xahn could even formulate a response.

Spike pushed open the door to "Sister Leaf's Magic Emporium" and held the door for Gunn so he could roll inside. Outside it was cool and overcast, but the air in the shop was stuffy and warm. A strong spicy scent permeated the air. A dark-haired woman in a long, flowing skirt worked behind the counter, labeling jars with a Sharpie.

Spike approached the cash register and rested his arms on the counter. "Excuse me, I'd - oh bugger!" He jumped back, arms smoking. "Bloody hell!" The woman grabbed a cross off a shelf and turned around.

"I think is best you leave," she said, holding the cross in front of her. Spike peered at the counter and noticed dozens of crosses carved lightly into the wood.

"Whoa," he said, holding up his smoking arms in a gesture of surrender. "Think you've got the wrong idea here."

"I think not," the woman said. "I do not need your kind in here."

"Got no problem with Grakta demons, though?" asked Gunn. He pointed to a jar near his right hand. "Wraktha root? Not common in this dimension, and rarely used outside of Grakta mating rituals."

"The Grakta are courteous," she said defensively. "The vampires, they are not. They come in, they make demands, they have no respect for tradition!"

"Unlike the Grakta, who traditionally use human organs in their ceremonies," said Gunn.

"They do not kill! They purchase organs of the recently deceased."

"Yeah?" asked Gunn. "Maybe I should call the health department."

"Perhaps for this vampire, I make exception? If he behaves," she suggested.

"He'll behave," agreed Gunn.

"What is it that you wish to purchase?"

"We're looking for information," said Spike.

"Information? For that you go to the Interweb. I am shopkeeper," she said.

"Are you Sister Leaf?" asked Gunn.

"I am Lilia," she said "I am shopowner. Sister Leaf is former shopowner, now deceased. Vampire," she said, scowling at Spike.

"There's a Lorq'vir demon in town looking for a way home," said Gunn.

"I do not know of this creature," she said.

"Standard nasty," said Spike. "Looking for a portal home."

"I cannot create portal!" she exclaimed.

"Not asking you to, pet," said Spike. "Want to find ones who can before this demon does. Thinking they might be in a spot of danger."

"You protect them?" she scoffed.

"Yes," said Gunn. "We protect them. You wanna help us - and them - or do you want to lose a few customers today?"

"And now you are making threats. Leave! Get out of my shop!"

"It's not a threat," said Gunn. He rolled his chair over to her and put his hands on the counter, palms down. "I'm not a bad guy. Yeah, he's a vampire," he nodded at Spike, "but he's a good one."

She snorted. "A good vampire?"

"Maybe you don't believe me. I get that. Hey, just 'cause a vamp's got a soul, it don't mean he's gonna do the right thing. But this is one nasty-ass demon. You can call these guys yourself and warn them. As long as somebody does."

She considered it. "Very well. I give you information. Wait. Touch nothing." She disappeared into the back room, and came out a moment later. "I have not phone number, only name. I know three in San Diego and two in Orange County who could do such a spell." She handed to paper to Gunn.

"Much appreciated," Spike said. "Thanks."

"I did not do it for you," she glared. "Now leave!"

"Right. Ready to go, Chuck?"

"Yeah," said Gunn. He already had his cell phone out. "Hey, Dawn? Can you find me addresses for these names?" He pushed the wheels of his chair with one hand as they left the store.

The tires on the 1983 Lincoln Continental squealed as the car pitched a hard right around the corner. Lying on the floor of the backseat, the vehicle's owner groaned as he hit his head against the door for the third time this trip. "Would you mind easing up on the wheel a bit, Buffy?" Angel asked.

"Sorry," the slayer said with an embarrassed grimace. "Do you want to take over? No, you can't, can you?"

"Not unless I want to fry," Angel said. "Are we almost there yet?"

"Um, I think so. The address that Dawn gave us should be right -- ooh -- here!" She slammed the wheel to the right. Angel's head smacked against the door again. Buffy pulled to the left, and the car spun into an askew parking position along the curb.

Angel peeked out from his blanket. "If you don't mind me asking, when was the last time you drove?"

"Hey, I tooled around on a Vespa in Italy. I logged hours of driving experience."

"Uh-huh." Angel gingerly touched the bumps under his hair. "Soon as I have the money, I'm fitting this thing with necro-tempered glass." He popped his neck. "What are we looking at?"

"Small house. Kinda unkempt."

"How far do I have to go to get in?"

"Hm. Not far. It's a short sidewalk," Buffy said. "And hey, covered porchness."

Angel nodded. "Okay. I'm going to run in there and scope out the situation. When I've determined the coast is clear, then you come in. Open the car door."

"Excuse me?"

"Open the car door. So I can get out and make a break for the house?"

Buffy drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. "I vaguely remember a conversation about the sharing of authority. But I could be mistaken. It's been, what, hours?"

"Buffy..."

"If your next words are 'I don't have time for this,' you can bolt to the house blanket-free."

Angel sighed. "Fine. What's your plan, partner?"

"Same as yours," Buffy said, "except I come along, and you say 'please' and 'thank you.'"

"And do you want to open the floor for motions, or can we move right onto the quorum?"

"Hey, how much slower do vampires burn on cloudy days?"

"We'll do your plan."

Buffy hopped out of the car and grabbed the handle to the back door. "Ready? Go!" She swung the door open. Angel tumbled out and sprinted forward, the upheld blanket flapping a bit in the wind. Buffy raced ahead of him, nimbly ascended three concrete steps, and held open the porch door for the arriving vampire.

Angel tossed off the blanket. The first thing he saw was the large oak front door was slightly ajar. He looked at Buffy.

The slayer frowned. "That's not good."

They crept into the house slowly. The décor suggested an aftershock motif. Furniture had been tossed about. Papers were scattered everywhere. Wall holes the size of economy-sized cereal boxes dropped bits of plaster at regular intervals.

"Hate to be the owner of that," Angel said, looking at an ornate altar that had been knocked to the ground. "That's the mark of D'Zeil. If it touches the ground, the owner's supposed to suffer an eternity of living torments."

"I really don't think he's gonna have to worry about that," Buffy said, turning away from an overturned dining room table. She dragged her hand over her face. "Behind there."

Angel peered over the table, catching a glimpse of an arm. Next to the arm was the shoulder it was not attached to. Both of these items sat in a pool of blood that hadn't quite finished drying yet. The vampire leaned in a bit more and found that the other arm and shoulder were in much the same condition.

"Looks like he wouldn't perform the spell," Angel said.

Buffy shuddered. "I've seen some pretty wiggy things in my time, but..."

"This guy is taking rejection very personally. I think we should take things personally, too."

Buffy frowned. "Gunn said there were two other sorcerers in town with the knowledge and skill to pull the spell off. We have to protect them."

"Agreed." Angel pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "Dawn? It's Angel. No, he's dead. Looks like we just picked up two pro bono clients."

Dawn sighed and dropped down on Andew's couch, closing her eyes. Andrew, Xander and Willow looked up at her. "Atrius Schiavelli is dead," she explained.

"Dammit," said Xander.

"I need any information you have on this demon," Angel said over the phone. "We need to know where he's going next."

"Uh, ok," Dawn picked up her notebook. "Considering where he escaped from and the location of Atrius's house, we think he's most likely to go to Takiyah Kuklin's place next." She gave him the address.

"Thanks," said Angel. He hung up.

Dawn dialed another number. "Gunn? Hey. Angel and Buffy are headed over to Takiyah's place 'cause we think the demon will head there next. Wanna go talk to Gus Jenkins, maybe get him out of there? Cool. Talk to you later." She hung up.

"You're all dispatchy," admired Andrew. "You should get one of those cute little headsets."

"Nah," said Dawn. "I'm more into the research part of stuff. Speaking of, any idea when those faxes will come through?"

Andrew shrugged. "The guy said it could take a while to dig out the records."

"Wouldn't they have the records out already? I mean, they're hunting this guy, too, right?" asked Dawn.

"Yeah, but it's all classified, so they have to get permissions and verify that my fax line is secure, and all that," said Andrew.

"You have a secure line?" asked Xander.

Andrew nodded. "I deal with a lot of confidential Council records. I had to take this whole class with security procedures and stuff."

"What kind of records?" asked Dawn.

"Oh, lots of stuff," Andrew said vaguely. "We should probably keep looking through the books. There must be something on the Lorq'vir in there somewhere, and time is of the essence here."

Dawn nodded. "I wish we could do more," she said.

"We're doing what we can, Dawnie," Xander said softly.

"I know," she said. After a moment, she got up and took another book off the stack.

Angel strode down the sewer tunnel, sword in hand. Buffy followed with a large axe.

"...And then Andrew accidentally summoned four poodle-sized demons with these gigantic teeth of doom into the library. The Council hasn't sent him to Prague since." Buffy laughed a little. "That was right after he brought Dana back. I think he was still a little freaked out by that whole thing."

"Yeah. Dana was a handful," Angel murmured.

Buffy nodded. She made a few tuneless humming sounds and let her eyes wander around the tunnel.

Angel pushed forward, determination creasing his face. He rarely spoke.

"So," Buffy said after the silence finally drove her crazy, "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Yeah?" Angel asked absent-mindedly.

"Well, I've talked to Willow, and Faith, and even Gunn a little..."

"About what?"

"Angel, what happened with Wesley?"

Angel stopped for a moment. Buffy watched his back muscles tense a bit, and then he continued his brisk pace. "I don't know what you mean."

"I remember this geeky goofball from high school. Then I get all these stories back about the Unshaven Wonder, a guy who'll stab a girl in the shoulder to get results, who kept a girl chained in his closet." She took a breath. "Angel, I never met that guy. What could have possibly happened to make--"

"People change, Buffy," Angel said. "All there is to it. Now, we have a Lorq'vir to track. He's already taken one victim..."

"Angel, I saw what he did," Buffy said. "So I don't need to be reminded of the priorities. But we have a few minutes, and I just thought..."

Angel spun around. "You thought what? You'd drag up some old history? 'Gee, Angel, seems like an awful lot of people died on your watch, not that I'm accusing you of anything.' You want to know what happened to Wes? Here's the Dummy's Guide - he came to me, he betrayed me, he lost everything, he saved me, he lost everything again, and then he was killed." The vampire turned back around and continued walking. "People die in this battle, Buffy. It happens. We can't dwell on it."

"People die in this battle, Buffy. It happens. We can't dwell on it."

Illyria crept behind the half-breed and his former consort, being careful to remain out of their view. It suited her needs to remain undetected at the moment, and so she was. She listened with intent ears to every word being spoken, as she had for the previous five minutes. The conversation had only now ceased boring her.

She heard the female hurry her steps to remain a specified distance behind the half-breed. "How could you be so heartless?" the girl asked.

"I have a job to do. I have a world to save. It's not about me," the half-breed responded.

"Does Wes's death mean anything to you? Does Cordelia's?" The girl asked many questions, each one reaching a more uncomfortable pitch.

"They do. They mean I keep fighting."

Illyria cocked her head. Interesting. She zipped back to the ladder she had passed a few dozen paces back and ascended to street level.

A faint metal clanging noise echoed behind Buffy and Angel. They stopped, careful not to move even the smallest amount. After a few seconds, the vampire looked at Buffy and nodded curtly. He began walking again.

Buffy swallowed hard, forcing a small well of rage down to the pit of her stomach.

Andrew looked up from his book and noticed Xander fiddling with his eyepatch.

"Do you ever get tired of wearing that thing?" he asked.

Xander looked up, surprised. "Sometimes."

"Have you ever considered getting rid of it?" Andrew asked hesitantly.

"Sure, but Halloween's only once a year."

"You could maybe get a glass eye or something," suggested Andrew.

"Sometime, maybe," Xander said. "Little more focused on paying rent these days."

"What if the Council paid for it?"

Xander laughed. "Right. 'Cause those guys love to hand out spare money. Come on, Andrew, you've filed expense reports with them."

"Yeah, but if we asked Giles --"

Xander cut him off with a quick hand gesture. "No. Don't need charity from the Council."

"It's not charity!" protested Andrew. "You've earned it. 'Cause of how it happened --"

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," said Xander coldly. "I didn't earn anything."

"And also 'cause of all the work you've done for Buffy and the Council. Giles said they'd cover it if you wanted it."

"Wait. Hold up." Xander stood up and held his hands out in front of him. "You already talked to Giles?"

"I might have mentioned it," Andrew looked down at the book in front of him and fidgeted with his pen.

"You had no right to do that!"

"I just asked if it was possible! Giles says --"

"You don't get it, Andrew. It's none of your damn business."

"Xander," said Willow, reaching up to touch his arm. He shook her off.

"You want to play at being a Watcher, you go ahead. But I don't need anyone watching over me. If I want something, I'll ask. You got it?" Xander stood over Andrew, glaring down at him.

Andrew nodded, not looking up.

Dawn looked at Xander, then at Andrew. "You know what, there's a couple of books I forgot to bring over. Maybe Andrew and I should go get them."

Xander took a deep breath and stepped back. "No, you stay here. I'll get them."

Dawn nodded, tore a page from her notebook, and handed it to him.

"I'll go with you," said Willow.

"I got it, Wil," said Xander.

"Xander? When crazy demon guy is on the loose, we should probably stick to the buddy system. I'm going with you," she said.

"Fine," Xander said. "Let's go." He and Willow left the apartment.

Dawn moved over to sit next to Andrew. He sniffled and wiped his eyes. Dawn put her arm around his shoulder. "Don't mind Xander. He can be kind of obstinate sometimes."

"I just wanted to help."

"I know," sighed Dawn. Andrew leaned his head against her shoulder. Behind them, the fax machine started printing.

"I'm fine," he said. "We have work to do."

Dawn nodded. She picked up the first few pages from the fax machine and groaned.

"What?" asked Andrew.

She held up the pages. Large portions of the text had been blacked out with a marker.

"Oh," he said. "Well, is there anything useful on there?"

Dawn skimmed the first page. "Yeah, actually. There's some stuff on its background and home dimension. Oh, interesting! It can actually detect people with magical ability. Sniffs them out, or something."

"No wonder the military wants him," Andrew said. "Maybe they're tracking down people to build a super-magic squad!"

"Uh-oh." said Dawn, still skimming the fax. She looked up at Andrew. "It moves fast."

"How fast?"

"Way fast," she said, grabbing her cell phone. "Up to forty miles an hour."

"Then it might be --"

"Yeah," said Dawn, who was already dialing.

Buffy pulled the car in front of a neat little cottage in a low-income area. Flowers lined the outer edge of the lawn behind a low chain-link fence. Terra cotta pots filled with growing herbs lined the porch. A small sign hung from the window. It said "Psychic Readings - $10."

"The porch is covered," said Buffy. "Ready to make a run for it?"

Angel sighed and nodded, holding the blanket over his head.

They made it to the porch safely. Buffy knocked on the door. "Takiyah Kuklin?" she asked.

Angel sniffed the air and kicked the door in.

"Okay, rude much?" asked Buffy.

"Blood," he said, but it wasn't really necessary. Buffy could see for herself since everything in the living room was coated with it.

"Oh my God," she said, running into the house. "Takiyah?" She found the woman's body resting face down near the kitchen door. In spite of the blood, no physical damage was apparent - until Buffy gently turned the woman over. "Oh, God!" Buffy jumped back and fought the urge to vomit. "Why would he do this? I thought he just wanted to get home! Even if she refused to do the spell, how does this help?"

Angel walked over to her and knelt down to examine Takiyah's body. "He enjoyed it," Angel said. "Sometimes there doesn't have to be another reason." He touched his hand to the woman's arm. "Warm," he said. "We couldn't have missed him by much."

"All I'm sayin' is, when the big nasty comes here, it's best that you're in a there place very far away." Spike pointed a finger towards his imagined very far away there place.

Gus Jenkins leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. "Not happening. I have a business to run here. If a customer comes, and I'm not available... Well, I'd hate to hold you boys responsible for that in a legal sense."

Gunn flipped through a pamphlet he'd pulled of the wire rack next to him - Interdimensional Holidays That Won't Break the Bank. "Interesting little business this is, too," Gunn said. "Oh, hey. Lopaerin. I heard about this place."

"Yeah? You should see it. Take a run through the crystalline forests, bathe in the effervescent rejuvenation springs..."

Gunn nodded. "That'd be nice, you know, if all travel to Lopaerin wasn't rendered illegal by the Demonic Junction Authority centuries ago. Person showing up by portal is gonna find themselves minus a head pretty quick."

"Is that a fact? You know, keeping up with all these restrictions and embargoes can be a tough gig. I'll have to check with my lawyer."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Think we done enough talkin' here, Charlie boy. Let's grab 'n' go, shall we?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Spike smirked. "Now, Gus. We can do this the hard way or..." He cocked his ear and put a finger to his lips.

"You hear that?" he asked in a whisper.

Gunn looked around. "Hear what?"

"Somethin' in the back room. I'm gonna go check it out." The vampire crept past the second-hand couches and chintzy posters for Pylea and leaned against the wall. Slowly, he extended his arm out and pushed the door open a little. He peeked through the crack, then entered the room, his feet barely making a sound as they landed. He sniffed and crinkled his nose in disgust. "What the bloody--"

A meaty fist smashed into Spike's ribs.

Xander walked quickly down the street, and Willow had to rush to keep up with him.

"Slow down, Xander!"

Xander looked back and slowed his pace. "Sorry Wil. I just --"

"Wanted to get away from Andrew as quickly as possible?"

Xander sighed. "I know he means well. But he treats me like some kind of hero."

"Is that so bad?" asked Willow.

"Yeah," said Xander. "I'm not a hero. Look, let's just get these books." He kept walking.

"Right," said Willow. "We'll just keep repressing things. You know, I thought Buffy was Queen of Avoidiness, but you could take the title of King."

"What do you want, Wil?"

"I want you to talk to me. Ever since you got back from Africa - ever since Sunnydale... well, we haven't talked much."

"We've talked. There have been exchanges of words, sentences, even paragraphs."

"What about feelings?" asked Willow. "Are you just doing that bottling up thingy again? 'Cause that never ends well. Or do you have long discussions with Her Blueness?"

"Wil? What are you babbling about?"

Willow played with the fringe on her blouse for a moment, then spoke softly. "You never talk about her."

"Illyria?" Xander asked, surprised.

Willow shook her head. "Anya."

Xander sighed. "There's nothing to talk about."

"There doesn't have to be. Sometimes you just have to talk." Willow looked up at Xander, who shook his head sharply and quickened his pace.

"I did. After Sunnydale, when I was sitting at the hospital with the girls who were hurt - I talked a lot, mostly to Andrew. I must've babbled on for hours about her."

"That's good," said Willow. "But you can't tell me you don't still miss her. I mean, I still miss Tara. I always will."

"It's not the same."

"Well, no," said Willow. "They were different people, and we're different people, so of course it's not exactly the same --"

"Anya's gone, Wil. More talking can't change that. Maybe I hang out with Illyria 'cause she's not constantly trying to get me to talk about my feelings!" Xander snapped.

"Fine," Willow said coldly. They walked on in silence for a few minutes.

Gravel trickled off a nearby rooftop and hit the sidewalk next to them. They froze in place and looked up at the building.

"You see anything?" Willow whispered after a moment.

"No," replied Xander. "Maybe it was just a cat?"

"Maybe," said Willow. "Let's get those books and get back."

Xander nodded, and they hurried towards the Champion Investigations office. On a nearby rooftop Illyria watched them rush away.

Spike's body hurtled across the room, crashing into the opposite wall. He plopped to the ground with a dull thud. "Shouldn't've done that," the vampire muttered, shaking the pain off. He pushed himself off the floor. "Now, you're gonna have to face the Big... Ba..." He found himself looking at the demon's leatherbound chest just inches away from his nose. "Oh, bugger."

The Lorq'vir smiled at Spike. "Sorry about that. I couldn't help but overhear a conversation where you were thinking about removing my sorcerer. Given that I need him to perform a certain dimensional rite, I feel I must discourage you from your intended plan of action."

Spike blinked. "Well. Tall, muscular, and yappy." He shrugged and threw a savage punch.

The fist swished through the air where the demon had been. The Lorq'vir grabbed Spike's outstretched arm and slammed his knee into the vampire's ribs, a heavy cracking sound resounding from the blow.

Spike staggered back against the desk as his opponent let go of him. "Right, then. Less chatter, more batter." He launched himself and once again found himself in the wake of the demon's sidestep. He felt the collar of his shirt jerk against his neck, and he found himself looking into the impatient jade eyes of the Lorq'vir.

"You're kind of an annoying gnat of a vampire, you know? I'd stake you, but I'm nearly positive you're not worth the effort." He slammed Spike's head against the desk, causing the wood to split.

As Spike's head was raised again, a thin line of blood fell from his nose. Before he could speak, he was slammed into the wood again. And again. He didn't even feel the demon throw him. The crown of his head smashed against the floor beyond Gus's desk, knocking him out cold.

The demon smacked his hands together. "Now, in the interest of keeping this little deal on the brief side..." He spun towards Gus. "I take it they told you what I want?"

Gus quaked. "Yeah. Yeah. I can do it. It's not an easy spell, though."

"Don't need excuses, pal. Results, on the other hand, will find you in fairly good health at the end of the day. Just do it."

"Yessir."

Gunn's eyes flashed rage at the sorcerer, and then he sunk his head low. Without a noise, he carefully palmed a letter opener on the desk, hiding it from the Lorq'vir's view.

Pulling open a desk drawer, Gus began searching through a pile of various herbs, tossing the ones he needed onto the desk. "Now, you're happening to look at the only man alive in the San Diego area who can perform this spell."

Gunn snorted morbidly. "S'pose that's true now." He grabbed up the letter opener and hurled it like a dagger at the demon's head.

A gigantic claw whipped up and snatched the missile out the air. The Lorq'vir rolled his eyes. "You're a real class act there, rollerboy." He sauntered over to the man in the chair. "You know, typically, I'd have a little fun while short and bland over there prepared my spell, but it's not very exciting hunting down a disabled person. No sport in it." He lurched back and kicked Gunn's chair over. "That, on the other hand, is the height of hilarity."

Gunn skidded across the hardwood floor a few feet and grabbed at his banged-up sides.

The Lorq'vir smiled. "You know, back in my home dimension, they keep humans as pets. Can you believe it? Pets. Some of the most interesting wild game, but the Dimensional Human Societies wag their claws and say, 'Sorry, pal. They're cute and therefore, not to be killed.'" He turned around and saw a portal crackle out of the ether. "See, there's a good man."

Gus shrugged. "Not really. That's for me." He leapt into the swirling dimensional gate, which closed behind him with a minor crackle.

"Heh," Gunn groaned from the floor. "Looks like you missed your train."

"There's always another station," the demon hissed back. He punted the overturned chair directly into Gunn's stomach. "And a little more fun. Later." He stalked out of the building.

Willow and Xander walked down the hallway to Andrew's apartment. As Xander reached for the doorknob, Willow stopped him.

"Xander," she said. "I worry about you."

Xander sighed. "Wil --"

She held up a finger to stop him. "Hang on, I'm talking here. I worry about you, 'cause you don't talk about her. I can tell you're hurting, but you tuck it away like you don't want to inconvenience us. You throw yourself into whatever comes along so you'll be too busy to hurt." She put her hand on his arm. "Xander, if you want to talk - about her - about anything - I'm always here for you. Always. Any time of day or night. Or if you just want a distraction, you could come over and we'll watch Star Trek and try to make deep-fried twinkies and not talk about anything important. Just... please don't feel you have to avoid me. 'Cause I'm not going to bug you about it anymore, 'kay?"

Xander looked at her, and his expression softened. "Okay, Wil."

She hugged him tight. "I love you, Xander."

"I love you, too." They held each other for a moment. Finally Xander let go. "Guess we should get these books to Dawn, huh?" He opened the door to the apartment.

Dawn waved her hand at them as they entered the room and went back to listening intently to the phone.

Andrew had his head propped up by a bored arm. He looked up at the two and then over to Dawn. "She's trying to reach one of the Orange County sorcerers," he said. "We figure that's where our guy's heading next, if Spike and Gunn didn't heroically stop him. Trying to minimize the danger levels and stuff."

The phone beeped as Dawn ended the call. "No answer," she said. "Hopefully, that means they're not there. Like, planet there. But we can't be sure."

Xander nodded and proffered the books. "We bring good tidings in the form of ancient, musty books."

Dawn accepted the offering and opened the Geritman's. Pages flew by as her eyes scanned back and forth. "Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Ooh! No, that's Lazarey spawn. They're pretty wicked, though."

Her cell chirped. Without letting here eyes disconnect from her reading, her arm snaked out, grabbed the phone, and answered. "Dawn here. ... Hey, Buffy. ... No luck on the Orange County guys, sorry. ... Yeah, that's probably a good idea. ... Call me back when you know what's up." She hung up and tossed the phone on the floor. She never stopped reading.

"Uh, Dawnie?"

"Yeah?"

"You just got a phone call."

"Yeah."

"From Buffy? With info we might need?"

"Yeah." Dawn ran her finger over a passage. She blinked. "Oh!"

"Find something?" Andrew asked.

Dawn looked up from the book. "No. I mean, oh! Like, oh, I've been rude. Yeah. That was Buffy. She and Angel are having an, uh, executive conference about their next course of action. There's some contention about whether they should check on Spike and Gunn, since Gunn's not answering his phone, or start road tripping to the O.C. and try to beat the demon to the next massacre."

"Failed," she added a second later. "Failed massacre."

The room fell silent for a few moments.

Andrew sighed. "It'd be cool to have a snarky but sexy antihero hanging around to provide pessimistic commentary we could all refute, so we could feel better about the situation."

Xander leaned against the wall. "Yeah. Whatever happened to the days where we could crack lighthearted but slightly morbid jokes about this crap?"

"Don't know," Willow said. "Guess we got all growed up." She shrugged. "Minus a couple laugh-in-the-face-of-danger points, but up several percentage points in actually-surviving-said-danger."

They all made vague indications of agreement, and then the silence returned.

Suddenly, Xander snorted with laughter.

Dawn looked at him with amused concern. "What?"

"I... just..." He tried holding it in, but the mirth kept creeping out around the corners. "I... it..." He bit his lip, a painful looking smile the only barrier between the room and the untold depths of laughter.

He took a deep breath and stood up straight. "It's nothing. I, uh, suddenly, um..." He grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. "I can't stop thinking of arm jokes."

Five minutes later, the room was having an unrestrained group laugh session at the punchline, "No, but I could sure use an elbow."

Spike watched the floor alternate between being very close and very far away. It seemed to him that a floor that could do that should probably be dropping and raising his body, also. Maybe he was on a platform. Or maybe he was...

"Bugger." Spike's senses sharpened gradually, and he saw that he was still lying face-first on the immobile floor of the travel agency, his nose dunked in a small puddle of his own blood. His head throbbed, the bells of St. Mary's clanging off a time of day that was thousands of hours beyond the standard twenty-four.

He shook his head and tried to get up from the floor. Pain lanced through his sides. He gritted his teeth and managed to turn over to sit. He slumped against the wall and looked over at Gunn, who was curled up fetal-like.

"You gonna be okay, Charlie-boy?"

Gunn groaned. "Spike. Yeah. Been a while since I took a hit to the stomach."

"Yeah, but no sharp implements this time, so streamers for all, then."

Gunn gave a lopsided smile. "Still, nothing beats a daily heart removal for pure agony. This is like a scraped knee." He pushed himself up. "Damn. We got our asses handed to us."

"With the rest of our bodies as a complimentary only-if-you-act-now gift. Aren't we just deeply lucky?" The vampire groaned as he sat up straighter. "S'pose we should call Buffy an' let her know we lost Steroid Dorothy and that the Yellow Brick road is headin' their way."

"I got it," Gunn said. He patted his pockets and frowned. "Well, don't that just take it? Cell's in the bag strapped to the chair."

"Oh. You want me to--"

"Nah. I got it." He slid himself beside the overturned wheelchair. Taking hold of it by the arm and wheel, he righted it with a pained grunt. He swiveled himself around, reached up, and grabbed the top of the desk. He pulled himself up, steadying his ascent with his good leg. Standing upright, he hopped over and plopped himself down in chair.

He pulled the phone out of the bag and started dialing. "We want Buffy first, right?"

Spike smiled. "Yeah. Buffy first. Then Dawn."

"That was Gunn," Buffy said. "The good news is that magic man number three is safe. The bad news is the demon wasn't too happy about his guy escaping, and he might have taken it out on Spike and Gunn."

"They okay?" Angel asked, applying another coat of black spray paint to the front windshield of his car.

"Yeah. Gunn said we should go on, head the demon off at the pass."

"Great," Angel said, removing the masking tape from the minimal viewing space.

Buffy looked at the do-it-yourself window tint job. "You're positive you don't want me to drive? Preferably a different car?"

"No, I got it," Angel said, standing back a little to take a look at his work. "Actually got this idea from Spike, believe it or not."

"I think he added a little more artistry to it. Sure, the artistry was The Sex Pistols, but..."

Angel rolled his eyes and got in the car. "Orange County. Demon. Then we can critique my paint job."

"Andrew - about that glass eye," began Xander.

"Never mind. Forget I said anything," said Andrew.

"No," Xander said. "I just - thanks. For thinking of me. Maybe - I could talk to Giles about it, see what he says?"

Andrew smiled. "Yeah, that'd be cool."

The front door flew into the room and bounced off the corner of the couch, narrowly missing Dawn. She shrieked.

The Lorq'vir stood in the doorway. "I need a portal, sorcerer," he said.

Everyone looked at Willow. Her eyes hardened as she stared him down. "If you think I'm going to obey your orders, you are in for a surprise."

The Lorq'vir took three steps forward and grabbed Andrew by the throat before the boy could dive out of the way. "You?" he scoffed. "Uh-huh. Yeah. If I wanted a completely dried-up witch, I would've said, 'I need a total lack of magick, useless one,'" he said. Andrew pulled desperately at the claw around his throat. "Now, this one," the Lorq'vir said, lifting him into the air, "this one's the right guy for the job."

Dawn shrank back into the couch as if from fear, but her right hand slid behind the cushions. She wrapped her fingers around the grip of a long, silver dagger and waited for a chance to strike.

The Lorg'vir let go of Andrew, who dropped to the floor and gasped for breath. "Supplies. Get 'em," the demon ordered.

"I don't have any --" Andrew began.

The Lorq'vir grabbed Andrew by the throat again with one claw and lifted him up. The demon gently wrapped the other claw around Andrew's left hand and wrenched it sideways. Andrew screamed as bones shattered.

Willow's eyes darkened as she gathered energy. "Batente!" she cried. A spark of light flew towards the Lorq'vir, but it dissipated almost instantly. Willow doubled over in pain.

"Willow!" Dawn let go of the knife and grabbed the witch as she collapsed.

The Lorq'vir smirked. "Wow, you are completely terrifying. Especially with the scent of Pravlan poisoning clinging to you and all. You're powerless."

Xander helped Dawn lay Willow on the couch. He knelt next to her, holding her hand.

The Lorq'vir leaned in close to Andrew. "I can smell the ingredients nearby. I do not appreciate you lying to me. Get everything together. Open the portal. It's really not hard to comprehend." He tighted his claw a little, and the shattered bones ground together. Andrew cried out in pain and nodded. The Lorq'vir let him go.

Xander jumped up and froze as the Lorq'vir fixed his gaze on him. "Gonna help him carry stuff," Xander explained.

The Lorq'vir nodded curtly. "I keep forgetting how fragile you creatures are."

Xander looked at Dawn.

"I've got her," Dawn said in a low voice.

Xander nodded. "Andrew, where are the supplies?"

"My room," Andrew gasped, clutching his injured hand to his chest.

Xander helped Andrew up. "Show me," he said.

In the bedroom, Andrew dropped on the bed, sobbing.

"Andrew," Xander said. "Where are the supplies?" Andrew just shook his head. "Andrew." Xander sat on the bed and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Listen to me."

"What do I do?" sobbed Andrew. "If I do the spell, we die. If I don't do it, we die."

"Look at me," Xander said. He grabbed Andrew's chin and lifted it until the boy met his eyes. "Giles chose you to be a Watcher. That man is many things, but stupid is not one of them. He knew you'd be able to survive in tough situations. We'll figure something out. Got it?"

Andrew nodded.

"Okay. Where are the supplies?" Andrew opened a cabinet and pointed to several items. Xander gathered them up. "Anything else?"

Andrew shook his head, then stopped. "That one," he said, pointing. "I have an idea."

They emerged from the bedroom with several jars and bottles.

"Okay," said Andrew. "We, uh, need some space. Dawn, do you think you and Xander can move the couch? It's pretty light."

"Yeah," said Dawn, getting up.

"Hang on, Wil, we're moving," Xander said. Willow nodded weakly. "Blink twice if you think you'll need a bucket," he added.

"You... motion sick... not me...," Willow replied faintly.

"Right," said Xander. "I'll try not to puke on you. Ready, Dawn? One, two, three!" They lifted the couch slightly and slid it back a couple of feet. "That good, Andrew?"

Andrew nodded. "And maybe move the stack of books there?"

The Lorq'vir growled.

"Uh, or just push them aside," Andrew said quickly. After the books were moved, he got a large containter of salt from the kitchen and knelt on the carpet. He began shaking out the salt in a pattern, but lost his balance when he leaned out too far and tried to catch himself with his injured hand. He cried out in pain and dropped the salt.

"If you think your little tricks will fool me," began the Lorq'vir, stepping towards Andrew.

Xander jumped between them. "He's hurt, okay? I'll help him."

The Lorq'vir growled. "Hurry. I been stuck here way too long. Gotta look up some old girlfriends back home."

Xander nodded. He knelt next to Andrew. "What do you need?"

Andrew picked up a nearby notebook and drew a hasty sketch. "This symbol, with no breaks."

"Got it," Xander said. He picked up the salt and poured it in the pattern.

"Hey. That is not the symbol," said the Lorq'vir.

"You're a Lorq'vir, right? And you're trying to be back to the Vir'tah dimension?" asked Andrew.

The demon nodded.

"This'll work. There's a couple of variations on spells for Qirthan class portals. This one's less common, but it's the only one I had all the ingredients for," said Andrew.

"Very well," said the Lorq'vir. "Continue."

Andrew nodded. He mixed the ingredients in a small bowl, lit them with a match and set the bowl in the center of the symbol. "Stand back," he warned. He began chanting in a gutteral, non-human language. The flames in the bowl flickered and changed from orange to black. Instead of burning out, they grew larger and spilled out of the bowl to cover the entire symbol. A light wind blew through the apartment.

Andrew stopped chanting, and the flames changed again, appearing almost liquid as they shimmered. A silver swirl started in the center of the flames and opened up a gaping void. The wind grew and picked up loose papers, pencils and other small items. They rose in the air and were sucked into the portal.

Xander frowned and looked over at Andrew. The young Watcher's eyes were fixed on the portal, and he didn't flinch as the wind swirled around him and his shaggy hair blew every which way.

The Lorq'vir smiled in triumph, and stepped up to the portal, but frowned as he got closer. "Waitaminute," he said. He backhanded Andrew, who flew backwards and slammed into the wall. The demon crossed the room and hovered over Andrew. "I do not want to head to Orange County for another sorcerer," he said. "You ever been there? Sickening." He took a step sideways and grabbed Xander by the throat. "Let's see if we can come to an arrangement. I kill your friend, and you create another portal. The correct portal. How does that sound?"

Andrew's eyes flickered over to the portal behind the demon, then back again. "I've got a counter offer," he said. "You die. Sucker!"

The portal flashed red. A bundle of grey feathers and talons flew out of it and hit the Lorq'vir, causing him to drop Xander.

"Krawek demon," Andrew explained to Xander. "Traditional enemy of the Lorq'virs." The flames of the portal died down until only scorch marks remained.

Xander nodded. "Nice job." He ducked as the Lorq'vir's claw swished past his head on the way to the Krawek. "I'd say it's time for a retreat."

They dodged the battling demons and made their way over to the couch. Xander picked up Willow. Unfortunately, the demons were between them and the front door.

"Bedroom window?" Xander asked Andrew, who shook his head.

"It's got security bars."

"Ok," said Dawn, still clutching the daggar. "They'll move in a moment, and we'll dash for the door." The others nodded and waited for their chance.

After several minutes of battle, the Lorq'vir tossed the Krawek across the room. It hit the bedroom wall and broke through it. Xander prepared to run but the Krawek flew back through the wall almost instantly and slammed the Lorq'vir into the opposite wall, creating an opening.

"Oh, man," sighed Andrew. "Mrs. Martinez is gonna be pissed."

Xander moved towards the opening as the battle shifted towards the kitchen. Andrew winced as the Lorq'vir's claws shredded bits of the cabinets and the Krawek's talons ripped out the light fixtures. Xander squeezed through the opening with Willow. Dawn followed, but before Andrew could get through, the Lorq'vir had him by the hair.

"Stay," he hissed, and pushed Andrew back towards the couch as the Krawek's talons raked the demon's face. A horrible screech echoed through the apartment as the Lorq'vir tore out the lungs of the other demon. He tossed the creature's body across the room, and Andrew shuddered as bits of warm flesh and blood spattered on his face and arms.

"You think you're clever, wiseguy?" asked the Lorq'vir. He stalked towards Andrew. "Hey, let's see if you can stitch yourself together after I tear off your limbs."

"If you kill me, I can't do the spell," protested Andrew.

The Lorq'vir shrugged. "I'd brave Orange County just to watch you die. Not a lot that could do make me do that."

"Xander!" cried Andrew. "Help!"

The Lorq'vir smiled an eerie, pointed grin. "Scream all you want." He reached out for Andrew, then suddenly froze, and dropped in place. Behind him stood two camouflaged men with very large guns. The Lorq'vir had several feathered darts sticking out of his body.

One of the men spoke into a radio. "It's down. Send the transport team."

"You okay, man?" the other one asked. Andrew shook his head.

"We'll take care of him," Xander said, emerging from the other apartment. "Come on, Andrew, let's take a field trip to the emergency room."

"And then she storms out!" said Spike. "Harris got all upset. Attacked a helpless tree."

"He's pretty attached to Illyria, isn't he," said Gunn. He took a sip of his beer. "Now this stuff's not bad."

"'Not bad?' It's bloody Guinness!" exclaimed Spike, finishing his glass. He set it down and gestured to the bartender for another. "See, that's what I was saying. He's got his blokes all around him, yet he's off playing tour guide for the Smurf."

"Why do you care?"

"Me? I don't care," said Spike. The bartender brought another beer. "Don't bloody well give a damn." He took a drink. "'Cept, here's the thing -- why Harris?"

Gunn peered at Spike over his glass. "You jealous?"

"What? No!" Spike took another drink and contemplated his glass for a moment. "Know what he did once? Had her change into Fred."

Gunn's drink stopped halfway to his mouth. "Say what?"

"Guess she's got Fred's memories and such. Can switch back and forth."

"Why? For fun?" Gunn asked bitterly. "'Oh, look, I'm wearing the skin of the girl I slaughtered. Maybe I'll hit the bars and party it up.'?" He slammed his glass down on the bar. "Think I'll make it an early night tonight." He tossed some cash on the counter and rolled himself out of the bar. In his anger he didn't notice that Illyria slip away in the shadows near the door.

"How could you be so heartless?"

"Does Wes's death mean anything to you?"

The corners of his mouth were folded down in a way he'd done countless times in the hundred-plus years since he'd been souled. Cordelia once called "Brood Variation #7." He wasn't sure if there really were six other variations. It was just Cordy's way.

He pressed a hand against the glass and left it there for a few moments, letting the sensation work its way languorously up his arm. Wes would point out that the nerve signals had reached his brain several hundred times already and would never be "languorous." Which was fine. Wes would bring up something obscure like that.

Angel closed the curtains and walked back into the shadows of his bedroom.

"You mourn in private for what you would dismiss to the face of your former mate."

Angel stopped. "Illyria?"

The Old One stepped out in front of him. He couldn’t tell where she came from. She was just there. "The others wear their grief upon themselves. Their efforts to hide are feeble and useless. You do not. You bury it deep within yourself. Why?"

Angel sat down on the edge of his bed. "Can we not do this now? If you want to talk, we can --"

"You carry a burden. I wish to hear of it."

Angel's eyes strained to flash anger, but he only managed annoyance. He felt 246 years of experience pressing down on him. His unlined, perfect skin may as well have been the saggy flesh of too many centuries. At that exact moment, he was ancient. And she was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

Finally, he looked at her, forcing himself to connect with her gaze. "I don't know how much of this you'll understand. And I'm not exactly an open book." He sighed. "I miss him."

"Wesley."

"Yes."

"He betrayed you."

"Yes."

"More than once."

"Yes."

"And yet you still mourn him."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Angel stood slowly and wandered over to her. "Don't know. Don't think it matters. Not sure what does."

"Explain."

"I sent him. He died for my mission. My quest against some massive bad guys who decided to pick up their toys and go home. So what now? My team is gone. I have a man in a wheelchair who hates me and an exuberant teenager. I can't fight the Senior Partners because they decided they're done with this plane of existence. Don't know where to go with any of this. Just have to keep moving. Keep feeling useful."

"Is this what humans and half-breeds do? Bury their strife until it buries them?"

Angel bent closer, looming right in her vision. "I don't know, Illyria. You tell me."

She stared at him, a silent rage festering behind her blue eyes.

"You're asking me questions that you already have the answers for," Angel said. His head fell slightly. "You think of him. You mourn him." He snapped up again. "But you can't admit that, of course. Have to put up a front. Have to shut everybody out, hold them off. What would the others think if they knew you lov --"

Angel flew backwards, propelled by a mighty shove from Illyria. He fell face-up on the floor. "Yeah. Should've seen that coming."

"You see nothing, half-breed," Illyria fumed. She turned and stormed into the darkness, vanishing in the same way that she came.

Ethan deposited his quarters into the soda machine, pressed the button, and listened as his cola rattled down to its point of delivery. As he reached down and grabbed the can, he smiled just slightly. "Hello, Ja'ri."

"Rayne." Ja'ri the Lorq'vir stood shakily, but still managed to loom over the human. He put an unsteady hand to his brow. "What the hell have you done to me?"

"Freed you from that abysmal military prison," Ethan answered. "Think of it as a repayment for creating an escape route for me in Nevada. Terribly sorry about leaving you behind, but I have an aversion to thinking of others before myself."

"Not what I meant."

"No, I suppose not," Ethan chuckled. "The toxin coursing through your veins. Really a mild sedative." He considered something. "Well, to be perfectly honest, what we put in you would probably kill a human being. Several of them, actually." He shrugged and then waved his hand at their surroundings. "D'you like the convention center? I find it rather... palatial."

"What's the game, Rayne?"

"Game? There's no game," Ethan said with as much innocence as he could muster. "I merely wanted to share something special. I didn't particularly care to have my left kidney ripped out before I had a proper chance to show you." He gave Ja'ri a quick once-over. "And I don't think you'll be concerned about the drugging in a few minutes. It'll have melted right out of your system."

He led the woozy, hulking demon through the loading docks to a large storage room. Men in crimson robes lined the walls, still and silent. Sitting in the center of everything was an ornate, ancient coffin.

Ja'ri stared at it, his weakness suddenly far from his mind. "What the hell is it?" he asked with awe.

"The final resting place of an Old One," Ethan replied with dark glee. "Captivating, isn't it? Come here." He guided the Lorq'vir over to the relic. "Do you feel the sheer history of it? Notice the carvings - jagged, powerful. They seem to really capture the feeling that under all this stone, immense power has been napping for millenia." He waved his hand vaguely at a central ornamentation. "The real crown of the collection is that emblem. No, no, friend. You have to get in a bit more to really see it."

Ja'ri leaned a bit closer to the coffin. He found himself closer still when a group of the robed men shoved his face right into the stone. He struggled, but his drugged state made his efforts useless. "Rayne!" he yelled. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Introducing you to Baldev, one of Old Ones. I'm sorry that I can't do this the proper way, but not to worry. Very soon, you two will be very close, indeed."

"If you have nothing to report, don't call me," Nivel spat into the receiver. "She must be found." He slammed the phone down in the cradle.

"I will not be found if I do not wish to be," Illyria said, standing before him. "As Qwa'ha Xahn, you should know this."

"I apologize, noble Reborn One."

"Save me your exaltations."

Illyria's gaze roamed the office wearily. "I have spent the day observing those you claim oppose me."

Nivel swallowed. "Yes?"

A tiny little port directly in front of the demon opened up and puffed stale air into his nostrils. Involuntarily, he breathed it in. He didn't remember Ethan letting go of him. He was barely certain that he had, in fact, fallen to the ground. He only faintly heard the robed men begin chanting.

Ja'ri braced himself against the floor, pain wracking his body. He wheezed; the air in his lungs seemed insufficient. He let out a great hacking cough, and blood shot out of his mouth, spattering against the cold concrete floor.

Ethan paced around the coffin. "So sorry about the discomfort, friend, but it will all be over soon enough. You see, Baldev is rather aggressive, moreso than some of his contemporaries. The hollowing process should take only a few minutes, if that."

"Yes," Illyria said. "You know what you speak of. They grieve. They mewl. They feel great pain when none have struck a blow." She shuddered. "And they infect me with it. I am Illyria. I am eternal. I exist without such petty sensations." Illyria's unblinking blue stare probed Nivel's eyes. She smiled a morbid little smile. "Let us discuss your worship."

The once proud hunter laid on the ground, fetal and wretched. The torment fired through every synapse, crept across every muscle. What senses he had left noticed his skin compacting, becoming harder. He struggled to say a few words, but his voice left him. With a final, vicious shudder, he collapsed.

Convulsions wracked the demon's body for a few moments. The Xof brethren watched, expectation in their eyes.

Ja'ri jerked to his feet, no longer Ja'ri. The bald skull was covered in a jagged red pattern that continued down his sides. The eyes gleamed with a cold magenta fire. It stared intently at its outstretched claw, studying each individual digit as if it were a foreign object.

Baldev stared out into the darkness. "I live... again."

Ethan's mouth contorted into a wicked grin. "This will do quite nicely."

Author Notes

Journals