That hurt, in a weird way. But really, who else should a Vampire Slayer go to for help when dealing with an especially notorious and dangerous vampire, her own Watchers Council or someone who had just proven to himself he would let prime opportunities slide by?

If Buffy was part of this, though, that put a different perspective on certain matters. "You don't have enough people, not to take out Spike and whoever he's got with him."

"What do you mean?" Travers snapped, suddenly tense again.

"He's a cocky idiot, but he hasn't survived this long by being a complete moron. You'll have to take him by surprise and finish it quickly, because if he has a chance to get his feet under him, he'll take you all. I've seen three others around here, and he mentioned someone else. That's four, plus Spike, plus God only knows how many. Even with Buffy, you're outnumbered." He glanced in the direction of the lair, than back. "Remember who trained him, Mr. Travers." He didn't even try to stop the faint, menacing, Angelus smirk that flickered out.

Travers fidgeted with his walking stick a moment. "Who have you seen?"

Angel shrugged. "The usual underlings keeping watch. And you do know that it's not just vampires around here, don't you?"

"We've seen the signs." He looked very thoughtful, then met Angel's eyes. "Thank you for the warning," he said grudgingly. "We'll definitely keep it in mind."

Angel nodded. "Good night, then." He took one step away before using vampire speed to vanish into the darkness, leaving the humans to jump and gasp. He stayed within earshot though.

"Sir," said the chief goon, "we didn't really factor William the Bloody into the battle plan. We thought we could do this with a quick in and out."

"Yes, I know," Travers said. "And if he is here, we'd have to get into that lair and find him. If they are keeping the kind of security Angelus says, that would be no easy task."

"Sir," another said, "are we going to believe him? A vampire? Even if he is supposed to be on our side now?"

Travers was silent for several minutes. "I don't trust him. He has fallen from grace before. But I don't disbelieve him, either."

"Should we have told him--?"

"No. Absolutely not. There's no need for this to become gossip for the riff raff of the night."

Angel bristled silently. Riff raff?

"We should leave," Travers continued. "We don't want to risk getting caught by anything else."

Angel listened to the men depart, wondering if anything was going to jump out at them and what he'd do if something did. Nothing happened, and he was very thoughtful as he headed for his car. Who were the Council people looking for if not Spike? Was it whoever Spike had been asking about, the one who was out hunting in a shiny foreign car?

He debated going back to Willie's for more information, but another visit would require more forceful persuasion. It was just possible that Willie might tell Spike about Angel's visit in an effort to curry favor with the vampire who seemed to be in charge of such things. Maybe Giles would know something. The last Angel had heard, relations between Giles and the Council weren't overly cordial, and the ex-Watcher might be willing to say why the Council was wandering around Sunnydale.

When Angel reached Giles' complex, new residents were in his apartment, and they didn't know where he had gone when Angel asked. Maybe he'd finally decided to leave a place with so many bad memories. Maybe he'd been evicted after one too many damage-causing incidents, Angel thought with a smile that quickly disappeared after remembering his own incident. Still, he needed to talk to someone. The power structures of the Hellmouth had shifted, and he had too many ties to the place to ignore the situation.

Revello Drive was painfully familiar, peaceful and prosaic on a summer night. Lights were on all over the Summers house, and through the dining room window Angel saw Joyce, Dawn, Willow and Buffy sitting around the table talking and sipping from mugs. A girl he didn't recognize sat very close to Willow. The talk seemed cheerful enough, but with an underlying melancholy. If he'd tried, he probably could have heard their words, but he found himself content to simply watch.

Buffy looked tired. She always seemed to, whenever he saw her these days. As he watched, though, he saw her look at Joyce with an expression of uncomplicated love and happiness. She looked almost sixteen again.

He turned around and went back to his car. Tonight, for whatever reason, she was happy. If she saw him, she wouldn't be happy anymore. Information was everywhere, but there was very little peace for Slayers, and he wasn't going to be responsible for taking it away when he knew she wouldn't get to enjoy it for long.

Victor, you make me feel sorry for poor, rat-eating Angel.

It was a rough time for him, what with the rodents and the "Mandy"and what not.

Jeez, Deb, potatoes up your nose?! Well, I just knew that that "Are you Somebody?" thing would send the Munchkin on one of his riffs.

Jeez, Deb, potatoes up your nose?!

Yup. Literally. I was eating steak, had just swallowed a bite, forked up some garlic mashed, read that line, got the vision in my head of a valley girl in a tube top and Carlos Santana club shoes trying to pet the three headed hellhound, and Munch going "Actually, I'm more of a cat person", and WHAMMO! Right up the nose with the spuds.

Well, that is flattering...more Munchkin.

“Right. Well, make sure.” My face changes and they squeal like the road company for Deliverance. California doesn’t even make a decent yo...some of the cornerboys at home would look into my yellow eyes without flinching. I catch the smallest one and drain him, even as my angst demands a poetic lack of appetite. The demon doesn’t allow me to do that. I think it is still mad at me for not turning You Know Who.
She’d have made a fantastic vampire...she’s already good at catching what she hunts for. And I bet she looks amazing in black. But she would have to die, and that, if I could quote you, would really suck.I wipe my mouth and hands, feed Cujo some yo scraps in aid of bonding and walk to the newsstand and steal some of yesterday’s newspapers.
This brain is more than a porno theater you know....it’s also a finely tuned instrument. I take Devil Dog back to Wolfram and Hart, where, incredibly, Lilah still sits, with the lights on. Her stamina must be phenomenal. But the closest I’ll ever get is when the cerberus tries to hump her leg. Lucky bastard.

I can sense whether than see that the sun is high in the sky, from mine and the Princess’ bedroom/cave by the time I put aside my craft project...threatening letters. Really hokey. “Prepare to Die” cut out in newsprint. I have to make sure Wes sees them first. Kay wouldn’t pay attention to melodramatic shit like that. But Wesley’s been waiting for this moment since junior librarian school. And believe me, I know how intoxicating being Kay’s hero can be. All the more because she doesn’t want one. I know that this works better anonymously, but I stole a Baltimore Sun, too, and I can’t resist clipping from the Waterfront newspaper ad...I need her to know it was me. God bless Meldrick and his attention-seeking overwhelming Bayliss’ financially provident nature.
I could kiss him.(He’s done worse) Of course, then we have the problem of recasting a threatening note as a loving gesture, but one problem at a time. I sleep easily that morning. For once....I mean, without the Princess or Dru to...help me pass the time.

I wipe my mouth and hands, feed Cujo some yo scraps in aid of bonding and walk to the newsstand and steal some of yesterday’s newspapers.

omiGAWD.

I can sense whether than see

Should that be "rather than see"?

I could kiss him.(He’s done worse)

Hee! Then again, so has Bayliss. I'm lovin' this, Erika!

I sleep easily that morning. For once....I mean, without the Princess or Dru to...help me pass the time.

Oh my!

Erika, so much fun! Keep going baby.

Why'd I write "whether"...possibly trying to decide between two thoughts? Calli, thanks. I wrote it that way cause there's a scene in Homicide: A Year on The Killing Streets...(otherwise known as The Book to many scary Homicide fans, who have a frightening "In the Beginning was the word" kind of relationship therewith...almost "my precious", huh?) Well, there's a scene where an old-timer's getting ready to leave after a bunch of years. And his younger partner says "You know what I'll always remember about you?"

And the older guy says no telling.

"When it was our first time, you were real gentle, Don. A lot of guys would have just taken what they wanted, but not you. I'll never forget you for that."

The older guy, if memory serves, the main inspiration for Stanley, not to be outdone, says "You made it easy. You didn't scream."
Which is Homicide talk for "I learned a lot from you. Thanks." And "You're welcome." But they get the Hoyay...your partner is your bunky or your bunk. Which is why posts about Ff make me blink sometimes. And I do think AYOTKS kicks all kinds of ass, just not enough to be The Book. Thanks, everyone. David Simon likes long, gritty carrots.

Connie - bring on the pain. Poor confused Angel.