Prologue

It's hard to be afraid of radiation when the coffee shop is twelve blocks away.

Sophie reached into her pocket and pulled out its contents. Among the bubble-wrapped pills (a white pill for her asthma; a pink pill for her allergies, if they got bad; and a blue pill for her allergies, if they REALLY got bad), a laminated card with her name, address and telephone number (so the paramedics would know who to call if she was hurt or sick), and cough drops (in case she came across any cat fur, which could dry out her throat) was a small plastic sleeve containing a quarter and a dime. Exactly enough for a call from a pay telephone in an emergency. After being trapped in a house with a red monster for over a day, Sophie figured that the expenditure was justified.

Of course, to make a pay call, she'd need to find a payphone. The closest payphone Sophie knew of in Buffy's neighborhood was six blocks down Revello, then another six blocks up Hadley Street to the diner at Weston. Quite a long walk in the middle of the night. Sophie's mother didn't approve of young ladies walking alone at night. Of course, she didn't approve of cellular phones, either.

Sophie remembered coming home after her first day at the Doublemeat Palace. In her orientation folder were a number of flyers for employee discounts. Sophie had no illusions of her mother allowing her to use the coupon for AdventureWorld (roller coasters are dangerous for girls who have allergy-induced vertigo) or the certificate for the free horseback riding lesson (the jolting motions can...well, you get the idea). But Sophie had hoped that her mother would allow her to get the free cellular phone. The service was only fourteen dollars a month (which she could easily afford, now that her mother had allowed her to get a job), and Sophie had noticed that other girls who had cellular phones really seemed to enjoy them. When she went to the mall with her mother, she always saw girls walking around, talking and laughing on their phones.

Of course, she hadn't realized, until her mother told her, that those silly girls were doing themselves irreparable harm. Cell phones, her mother informed her, emit dangerous levels of radiation. "It's like sticking your head in a microwave oven," she explained. So Sophie still carried her dime and her quarter their sterile plastic sleeve. Money, as any sensible person knows, should be handled as little as possible to avoid exposure to germs.

Sophie shoved the pills, the card, the cough drops and the money back into her pocket and continued walking down the street. She didn't know what to tell her mother. She was supposed to be home by midnight. Technically, she still could be home by midnight. Not the midnight originally intended, but....

It had been a long time since Sophie had tried to think up a lie to tell her mother. She certainly couldn't say the truth. A red monster? A house that you can't leave? Her mother would never believe it. For that matter, Sophie's belief was starting to fade. Every step Sophie took brought her a step closer to rationalization. She couldn't leave because of...peer pressure. The monster was just a man...with a bad sunburn. Sophie wasn't sure whether she could explain everything because she wasn't afraid anymore, or if she wasn't afraid because she could explain everything. In any event, it was over.

Sophie was about to make the turn onto Hadley Street when she realized that the footsteps she heard were not only her own. She stopped. The footsteps continued. Sophie reached into her other pocket to grab her key chain. A small plastic whistle was attached to the ring. Her hand tightened around her keys as she turned to look at whoever was approaching.

It was difficult to see in the darkness, but what appeared to be a large man in somewhat ragged clothes approached Sophie. When he was about ten feet away, Sophie recognized the...unique ears. Clem stopped. A big smile crossed his face, and he waved.

"Hi," Clem said. "I thought it was you."

"Hi," Sophie said. "Um...I was just walking home."

"Me too," Clem replied. "Some party, huh?"

"Uh, yeah," Sophie agreed.

"You OK?"

"I guess," Sophie said. "It got pretty...."

"Yeah," Clem said. "But, all's well that ends well."

"I suppose," Sophie said.

"Well, I'll let you get home," Clem said. "You're family must be worried sick."

"Oh, yeah," Sophie said. "I should go."

"OK, bye," Clem said, continuing down Revello. He went about a half block, then turned and called to Sophie:

"Nice meeting you."

Clem continued walking down the street.

Sophie watched as Clem walked away. Seeing him again suspended her rationalization. He didn't have a skin condition. The man with the sword didn't have a sunburn. Something kept her in Buffy's house, and it wasn't peer pressure. Sophie realized that she was still very, very afraid.

But, for some reason, she wasn't afraid of Clem.

"Hey," she called out, briskly walking toward Clem. Clem stopped and turned to face Sophie.

"Um, I realize we just met," Sophie continued. "But...um...could you do me a favor?"

"I'd be happy to," Clem said. A big smile crossed his face. It wasn't a figure of speech; doing favors actually made Clem happy.

"Could you walk me up to the coffee shop on Weston Drive?" Sophie asked. "I need to call my mom."

"Oh, sure," Clem said.

"I would have called at Buffy's," she explained. "But when we could get out, I just left. And then I realized I needed to call, but I didn't want to go back in...are you sure it's not out of your way?"

"Oh, it's not that far," Clem said. "I'll just tag along. Make sure nothing happens."

Among scholars of the mystic arts, there is a theory that mystical convergences such as the Hellmouth, in addition to attracting demons and strengthening dark magicks, also generate irony. Subscribers to that theory would not have been surprised when, at the moment Clem finished speaking, a four-foot green lizard sprang from the hedges along the sidewalk and grasped Sophie in a bear hug.

Sophie screamed as she fell to the ground. The lizard demon hissed, its scaled limbs surrounding Sophie's body. Clem grabbed the demon with his massive arms, wresting the demon from Sophie and throwing it into the street. The lizard demon scurried into the night.

Clem watched as the demon escaped from sight. Behind him, he heard Sophie whimper:

"W-w-w-what was...?"

"Some kind of demon," Clem responded as he turned to face Sophie. "Don't worry, he won't...huh?"

As Clem turned, he saw that Sophie's body was surrounded by a red aura. Sophie stared at her hands, then down at her stomach, then her legs. Finally, she asked:

"What happened to me?"

Part I.

"You'll be fine," Clem said, leading Sophie through the graveyard. "Magic always has a fix."

"Can we stop for a minute?" Sophie asked. "Please. I just...I...."

"Oh sure," Clem said. "No one's going to be out here at night. 'Cept vampires, of course. But they won't bother us."

Clem led Sophie over to a crypt. He grabbed the handle, and with a firm but judicious application of his strength, he forced the door open. He walked in, then gestured for Sophie to follow. After a moment of hesitation, Sophie entered the crypt.

Between the moonlight through the windows and the crimson glow emanating from Sophie, the tomb was actually rather well lit. Clem took a seat on the tomb at the center of the crypt. Sophie stood, trying not to tremble.

"What did it do to me?" Sophie asked.

"I dunno," Clem said. "I've never seen one of those before. But you seem OK, and we'll get it fixed. Trust me, just about everything magical that can happen to a human can be undone. That's why people have managed to stay around."

"People," Sophie repeated. "Human. Like me. You say that like...I mean, you're not...you're a...."

"A demon," Clem said. "Yeah, it's OK to say. I don't mind."

"So, you're like that thing that...."

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Clem said, his eyes falling ever so slightly.

"Oh, I didn't mean...I mean...I really don't understand any of this."

"I can see how you'd be confused," Clem said. "It's OK."

"Look, maybe we could just talk about something else for a while," Sophie said.

"Oh, sure," Clem said. Clem thought of subjects that didn't involve demons and unexplained auras. "So, you work with Buffy?"

"Yeah," Sophie said. Her hands instinctively felt the front of her pants leg for the familiar and secure bulges of her pill packets.

"I like the Doublemeat Palace," Clem continued. "The food's good."

"I don't remember seeing you there," Sophie said, immediately realizing how foolish that statement was.

"Oh, sometimes one of the vampires in our poker games will bring food," Clem explained. "Y'know, if all that's there are kittens, eventually you'll start nibbling on your stake."

"Uh, yeah," Sophie said, swallowing hard.

"Oh, sorry," Clem said. "I forgot. People use cats for pets. Trust me, I get it. I had a pet scrivver as a kid. They look like pigs. That's why I never eat bacon."

"A scrivver?" Sophie asked. "What's that?"

"They're like pigs," Clem said. "Only longer. And they have webbed feet, like ducks. So they waddle." Clem shifted his shoulders back and forth in a waddling motion to illustrate. Sophie smiled. Clem smiled back.

"Anyway," Clem continued, "I get the kitten thing. But I like the Doublemeat Medley. It's tasty."

"I guess," Sophie said. "I mean, I don't know. I never had one."

Clem's eyes widened. "You work there, right? Don't they give you lunch for free?"

"I have the kitchen make me a salad out of the lettuce toppings," Sophie explained. "I can't have dairy products. The Medley has cheese. And the bread is enriched. I can only have whole wheat bread."

"Are you sick?"

"Well, no," Sophie said. It was her turn to drop her eyes. "I mean, I'm not sick-sick. I have allergies. They get bad if I have dairy. I can't drink milk. Or eat foods made with milk. Or pets. I mean, I can't have pets, not eat...well, you know."

"Gee, that's too bad," Clem said. "Pets are great. So, what happens if you have dairy?"

"I...I get...a reaction," Sophie explained, or at least tried to explain. "I haven't had dairy in so long, I really don't remember exactly what the reaction is like."

"So how do you know you're allergic?"

"I had tests when I was a kid," Sophie said. "They scratched my skin with a bunch of needles."

Clem winced and shuddered.

"I had a reaction to dairy," Sophie continued. "So I couldn't have milk. Or ice cream. My doctor thought sherbert would be OK. But then I had it one day, and I got a headache, so my mom said I couldn't have it anymore."

"Don't people normally get headaches when they eat something cold?"

"That's what my doctor said." Sophie replied. "But my mom said he was a quack, and he didn't know what he was talking about."

"Was that the same doctor who said you were allergic to milk?"

"Yeah."

"Well," Clem said. "If he's a quack, how can you know if...um...well, anyway, it's good that your mom cares enough to take such good care of you."

"Yeah," Sophie sighed. "Lucky me."

"Anyway," Clem said, sliding off the tomb, "we should get going. Spike's crypt is nearby. He'll know what to do."

"Spike from the party?" Sophie asked.

"Yeah," Clem said. "He's always helping Buffy and her friends remove a curse or stop a demon."

"Buffy stops demons?"

"Well, she is the Sla...oh, sorry. I think that's supposed to be a secret."

"Buffy never said anything about...."

"Oh, boy, Spike's gonna kill me," Clem mumbled. "If he finds out I told you...."

"Oh, I won't tell him," Sophie said. "It'll be our secret. Well, not our secret. It's Buffy's secret. But the fact that Buffy's secret isn't a secret, that'll be our secret."

"Cool," Clem said. "Thanks."

Clem squinted as he noticed that the glow around Sophie had started to grow brighter. Sophie's jaw trembled. She had noticed as well.

"Anyway," Clem said, "we'd better go."

Clem and Sophie exited the crypt and continued down the path through the cemetery.

Part II

Clem knocked on the door of Spike's crypt.

"Who's there?" Spike's voice asked from behind the door.

"It's me, Spike," Clem called.

"Alright, hang on," Spike said. After a moment, Spike cracked the door open and asked:

"What?"

"Hey, Spike," Clem said. "You remember Sophie, right?"

Sophie waved.

"Oh, yeah," Spike said. "From the party. Hey. Look, mate, this isn't a good time for...is she glowing?"

"Yeah," Clem said. "That's why we're here. We got jumped by a demon while we were walking home."

"We?" Spike repeated, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Why, Clem, you devil!"

"I was walking her to a telephone," Clem said. "So she could call her mother."

"So this demon lit her up?" Spike asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, look, I'd love to help, but I'm kind of in the middle of this thing that...."

"Oh, come on Spike," Clem said. "Look, you owe me three kittens from last week's game. Help out and we'll call it even."

Spike rolled his eyes, then opened the door completely. Clem and Sophie entered, and saw a man in a leather jacket and dark glasses.

"What's this, Spike?" the man asked.

"Friends," Spike said.

"I don't like it," the man replied. "I'm here to talk...."

"And you've talked," Spike interrupted. "And I've listened. We're done. Just get the cash. I'll take care of the merchandise."

"Fine," the man said, walking past Sophie and Clem toward the door. "Just remember, Spike. I've got plenty of guys on the payroll, and they all have a pulse. Don't even think about pulling a fast one."

The man exited Spike's crypt, shutting the door behind him.

"Poof," Spike muttered as he threw his cigarette to the floor and turned to Clem. "So, what's up with the bird?"

Sophie silently hoped that there wouldn't be any talking bird creatures, and then realized that Spike must have been using British slang.

"Lizard demon," Clem explained. "About so high. Moved quick. It jumped her and ran off. Must've left something on her."

"Greenish?" Spike asked. "Little stubby tail? Flabby elbows?"

"That's it," Clem said.

"Ugh, Eftena demon," Spike said. "Nasty buggers. Normally they'd have nibbled her to the bone. They must be mating."

"Mating?" Sophie gasped.

"Yeah," Spike said. "They're sort of like scorpions. They don't actually shag. They just mark a person, then the lady Eftena gets the scent, eats the host, and three weeks later pops out a little baby Eftena."

"I'm...I'm...pregnant?" Sophie asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Spike said. "Actually, you're more like a surrogate mother."

"We've got to get rid of that mark," Clem said. "Whatever magic it is, it could hurt her if it stays on her long enough."

"Oh, don't worry," Spike said. "The lady Eftena will be around to eat her long before that."

"This isn't happening!" Sophie exclaimed. "I can't be pregnant! I've never even kissed a boy!"

After a moment of feeling Spike and Clem's gaze, Sophie said:

"Alright, I shared too much, didn't I?"

"I'd say quite the opposite, luv," Spike replied.

"Spike," Clem said. "Can we just focus on...?"

"It'll fix itself," Spike said. "The glow lasts about three hours. After that, the lights dim, the lady Eftena loses the scent, and she's a spinster for another season."

"So all we have to do is hide until the glow goes away?" Clem asked.

"No, we have to bugger off before the Eftena finds her," Spike said. "If we keep moving, we should be able to shake her long enough. We'll hit the tunnels. One go round the town and glow should fade on its own."

"Sounds like a plan," Clem said.

"Right," Spike said. "You. Sophie, right? Head downstairs. Clem and I'll be down after we've got some weapons together. That's it," Spike continued, as Sophie approached the ladder apprehensively. "That's it, down you go. Just be a minute."

After Sophie disappeared from sight, Spike walked over to a corner of the crypt and grabbed a small battle axe and handful of stakes.

"Here," Spike said, handing two stakes to Clem. "If we're going to be in the tunnels, we'd better be prepared for vamps, just in case. Look, mate, if the going gets tough, stick close. No offense, Clem, but you were always more of a lover than a fighter."

Clem pursed his lips and nodded in approval.

"Speaking of which," Spike said, pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket. "How about you, eh? Get her in girl clothes and she wouldn't be half bad. You know what they say about the first taste out of the bottle."

Clem let out a disgusted sigh and walked toward the ladder. Spike lit his cigarette and followed.

Part III

"This way," Spike said, gesturing for Sophie and Clem to follow him down a stretch of the sewer. "Stay tight. Bad time to be down here. Of course, not a good time to be anywhere in Sunnydale right now."

"Why?" Sophie asked.

"Kaagora's Solstice," Spike replied.

"Oh, yeah," Clem said. "I forgot."

"What's Kaagora's Solstice?" Sophie inquired.

"Mating season for demons," Spike explained. "Kaagora was a demon fertility goddess. Once every ninety odd years the stars line up and whatnot, and demons get all horned out, especially in places like Sunnydale. The Hellmouth's like a bleeding Barry White album. Demons come from all over to snog, spawn, lay eggs...."

Spike's voice trailed off, then he stopped and turned to face Sophie.

"Hey, you work with Buffy, don't you?" he asked.

"Um, yeah," Sophie admitted.

"In that takeaway shop," Spike half-asked Sophie, half-said aloud to himself. Spike continued walking. Sophie and Clem followed. Spike slowed his pace enough so that Sophie walked beside him.

"Listen, luv," Spike said. "That shop you work in, it's got one of those big freezer jobs, right?"

"Um, yeah," Sophie said. "It's about the size of a big closet. Bigger, actually."

"Let's suppose," Spike continued, "hypothetically, of course, that there was this bloke, right? And he had about a dozen or so...oh, let's say they were...bowling balls. And he wanted to keep them on ice overnight. That deep freeze of yours would do nicely, wouldn't it?"

"Why would he want to do that?" Sophie asked.

"Just indulge me," Spike said. "It's...er...a riddle."

"A riddle?"

"Oh, I like riddles," Clem said. "I think I've heard this one."

"No, you haven't," Spike said.

"No, no, wait," Clem said. "This is the one where he has to take the bowling balls across a river in a canoe, but he can only take three at a time. So he...."

"There's no canoe," Spike said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "And no river. And I think the girl was talking. Ladies first."

"Um, I dunno," Sophie said. "You really can't get into the freezer at night. They have one of those motion detectors. They're afraid someone would get stuck inside. You know, like in that episode of 'The Brady Bunch?'"

"Oh, yeah," Clem said. "The one where Bobby and Oliver thought that Alice's boyfriend was a spy! I loved that one. What was his name...the guy...Alice's boyfriend...?"

"Sam!" Sophie exclaimed.

"Yeah," Clem said. "Sam the butcher."

"Yeah, right," Spike said. "Now, let's suppose...."

"Did you see the one with the trampoline?" Sophie asked.

"When Bobby was afraid of heights," Clem said. "But then his pet bird...."

"Excuse me!" Spike shouted. "I believe we were discussing my frozen bowling balls!"

"Oh," Sophie said. "Um...well, I don't really see how you could use the freezer at night. They're pretty careful."

"And this sensor doodad," Spike said. "Pretty much standard equipment?"

"Well, a girl at the Doublemeat said that they had one at her old job," Sophie said. "She used to work at the BeefyBarn. You know, the place with the big talking hamburger thing at the drive thru?"

"Eeesh," Clem said. "That guy creeps me out."

"Well," Spike muttered. "It was worth a shot."

"If you want," Sophie said, "I could check if...."

"Nah," Spike said. "Skip it. Just a thought. No big. It's just one night. Shouldn't be a problem anyway. They'll keep."

Sophie looked at Clem. Clem shrugged.

"Hold up," Spike said, stopping in his tracks. "Hear that? Something's down that tunnel. Wait here."

Spike snuck around the corner into the darkness.

"Um, your friend Spike is...interesting," Sophie whispered.

"Yeah," Clem said. "He can be...well, he's a vampire, you know? He can't help it. But sometimes he's nice."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," Clem said. "You know, he'll stake you a kitten if you're a little short, or hang and watch a movie."

"No, I mean, he's a vampire?"

"Gee, I'm just not very good at keeping secrets tonight, am I?"

"It's all just so much to absorb."

"By the way," Clem said. "Sorry about some of the things he said. Again, vampire."

"What do you mean?"

"You know," Clem explained. "When he implied that we were...you know."

"Oh, I know he didn't mean it," Sophie said.

"Oh, he meant it," Clem said. "He's not known for tact when it comes to that sort of thing."

"No, I mean, he was just kidding you," Sophie said. "He really didn't believe that you were...with me. I mean, c'mon. I'm not the kind of girl that guys go after."

"Who told you that?"

"Nobody told me," Sophie said. "I mean...I know I'm not...well, who wants a girl who can't even eat a cheeseburger?"

"That's just silly," Clem said. "I'll bet lots of guys have asked you out."

"No," Sophie said. "Well, there's this one...his name's Paul. He works at the Doublemeat. He asked me to go to a concert once."

"Did you go?"

"No," Sophie admitted. "Um...my mom thought that all the smoke would irritate my asthma. And I would have been out late. And...I know he really didn't like me. He was just trying to...you know."

"Sophie," Clem said. "I'm sure he liked you very much. Unless he's stupid, he'd have to. Now, is he stupid?"

"Well...no."

"There you go," Clem said.

"Um, hey," Spike said, turning the corner.

"Spike," Clem said. "Did you find what was causing the noise?"

"Well, you might say it found me," Spike replied, just before he was thrown forward onto the damp, stone floor of the sewer. Two men in dark clothes turned the corner behind Spike. Each held odd-shaped rifles in their hands.

"Hey," Clem said. "What's going on here? Who are...?"

One of the men raised his rifle. A blue streak of lightning burst forth from the barrel, knocking Clem to the ground. Sophie shrieked as she ran to Clem's side. The two men walked over to Sophie. One pointed his rifle at her chest, while the other pulled a metal box from his jacket pocket and looked down at the screen.

"Is she human?" the first man asked.

"Yeah," his companion replied, pulling a pair of handcuffs from another pocket with his free hand. "And that glow? It's the mark. The Eftena got her."

Sophie could only stare helplessly as the man handcuffed her behind her back.

Part IV.

"Uhhh," Clem muttered as he regained consciousness.

"Shhh," Spike whispered. Clem awoke to realize that his hands were shackled behind his back. Across from him, Spike and Sophie sat, also with their hands bound behind their backs.

Clem sat up. He saw Spike's eyes dart subtly down the tunnel. Clem glanced down the tunnel and saw the two men standing about thirty yards ahead. Although the two men were whispering, the echoing effect of the concrete walls, combined with Clem's keen hearing, allowed him to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"That was stupid, Richards," one of the men said. "You wasted a perfectly good taser blast on the wrinkly one. We've got to save the juice."

"He's the size of a humvee," Richards replied. "Besides, Clarke, it's not my fault we can't keep a decent charge on these things."

"I had to jury rig a car battery just to get any charge at all," Clarke said. "You get the army to pay the bills again, and I'll get us a full charge."

"This sucks," Richards said. "Back when we were in the...."

"Well, we're not in," Clarke interjected. "So it's this, or sit on your ass and watch Letterman. What's it gonna be, soldier?"

"Whatever," Richards sighed. "Look, I still don't see why we didn't kill the demons."

"They were with the girl," Clarke argued. "I wanna know why."

"Who cares? They're demons."

"I care," Clarke said. "Two demons guarding a human. There's gotta be a reason."

"Maybe they were delivering her to the Eftena," Richards theorized.

"Jeez, you're dense," Clarke said. "Didn't you pay attention during Species Training? Eftena are barely sentient. They don't even have a language. How would they make a deal with verbal Sub-Ts?"

"So what do we do? Put them in jars with holes in the lids?"

"First we get the Eftena," Clarke said. "Then we park the two of them in the basement until after the solstice. After we clean up, we get them to talk."

"What about the girl?"

"The female Sub-T will be along soon enough," Clarke said. "If the girl makes it, we let her go. Who's she gonna tell that's gonna believe her?"

"She saw our faces," Richards argued.

"We'll deal with that when it comes," Clarke said. "Right now, we have to set up a perimeter. Spread out."

"Spread out?" Richards repeated. "What are you talking about? There's only two of us. How can we...?"

"I said spread out, corporal!" Clarke shouted, storming off down a side tunnel. Richards shook his head, then went down another branch of the sewers.

"So that's their game," Spike muttered.

"Who are they?" Sophie asked.

"They look familiar," Clem observed.

"Remember them army wankers?" Spike asked. "Couple years back?"

"The Initiative?" Clem asked. "I thought they were gone?"

"They are," Spike said. "Guess some gits don't know when to pack it in."

"What's the Initiative?" Sophie asked.

"They were these government demon hunters," Clem explained. "They rounded up demons for experiments. They left town after it got out of hand. I guess these guys stayed behind to keep at it on their own."

"Yeah, well, I'd love to stick around and find out what happens to the few, the proud, and the bloody stupid," Spike said, wriggling behind his back. "But I think I'm leaning on a wire something or other, and...."

Sophie and Clem heard the sound of metal scraping against metal, and then a slight click. Spike pulled his now free hands around and massaged his sore wrists. He then walked over to Clem and began picking the locks on Clem's shackles.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Clem asked.

"A little something I picked up while I was with Dru," Spike said, trying to get a good angle on the keyhole of Clem's shackles. "She liked to play. Of course, she also liked to wander off after and sing with crickets, so...there!"

Clem tossed aside the shackles as Spike began to work on Sophie's handcuffs.

"We've got to get outta here," Clem said. "Those army guys are bad news."

"So they're not like Buffy?" Sophie asked. "They don't only go after bad demons?"

"Well, that's how they started out," Clem replied. "But near the end they got out of hand."

"And these morons seem to be right out of their bleeding heads," Spike continued, as he freed Sophie from the handcuffs and tossed them to the ground. He then looked down at them, shrugged, grabbed the handcuffs, and put them in his jacket pocket. "Never hurts to have a spare set," Spike muttered to himself.

"We'd better get out of here," Clem said.

"Right," Spike said, lifting Sophie to her feet.

"Do you think they'll get the Eftena?" Sophie asked.

"Probably," Clem said. "From what they were saying, they're going to be hunting during the whole Solstice. They probably know that the demon activity is going to be up during the month, so any demon that's in town for the spawning period is a target."

"Wait a minute," Spike said. "That could be trouble."

"We'll just lay low," Clem said. "They won't bother us. They'll just go after the demons who are reproducing."

"No," Spike said. "I mean...if these guys are out shooting anything that...er...um...we should take these guys out."

"What?" Sophie asked.

"Stay out of this, luv," Spike said. "Look, Clem, these Initiative guys, they were never any good for any of us."

"Fine," Clem said. "Let's tell Buffy. She took care of them last time."

"She's talking to the Little Bit," Spike said. "She won't just sod off to go after these two."

"So she waits a couple of days," Clem said. "So what? They've been hunting demons for a couple of years. What's another day or two?"

"We're in the middle of the Solstice," Spike said. "They might get...I mean, they might tag a demon that...anyway, you heard them, they're on the warpath in a big way."

"Maybe," Clem said. "But we could still...."

"Look, Clem," Spike said. "They were ready to use your lady friend here as bait, right? Who else would they be willing to hurt if they got the chance?"

"Well...."

"The one guy was ready to kill her," Spike said. "If they're ready to do that, what else would they do?"

"Um...I suppose...."

"Right," Spike said. "Now, I can't raise a hand to these guys without setting of the stupid chip in my head, so here's the plan...."

Part V.

"Alright," Spike said. "You two sit here with your hands behind your backs. When they're coming, we move."

"Gotcha," Clem said, sitting on the ground opposite Sophie.

"Clem," Sophie said.

"Yeah?"

"I don't know if I can do this."

"It'll be OK," Clem said. "Just stick close."

"Clem, I'm scared," Sophie said, a hint of tears in her voice.

"Look, luv," Spike said. "I put my neck on the line for you, so now it's payback time. I watched your back, now it's your turn to do this for me."

"Do what for you?" Sophie asked. "You're determined to get these soldiers out of the way. Why? You wanted to run from the Eftena, but now you want to fight. What are you really after? There's something you're not telling us."

"Sophie," Clem said. "Spike's right. These are bad men. I promise nothing will happen to you. I promise."

Footsteps sounded through the tunnels before Sophie could respond. Clem put his hands behind his back. Clem and Spike both looked at Sophie. She bit her bottom lip, then thrust her arms behind her back, and nodded.

"It's got to be somewhere," Clarke said, walking down the corridor.

"Maybe it lost the scent down here," Richards said. "Maybe...hey!"

Clarke and Richards looked down the tunnel and saw Spike grasping Sophie by the shoulders, his face buried in the nape of her neck.

"He's lose!" Clarke shouted, raising his rifle.

"Stop, you idiot!" Richards said. "You'll get both of them. The girl's no use as bait if she's dead."

Richards and Clarke ran down the tunnel. When they got to Spike, Clarke grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him off of Sophie.

As Richards raised his rifle to shoot Spike, Clem sprang, knocking both of the soldiers to the ground. Unfortunately, Clarke's reactions were faster than Clem had thought, and Clarke fired his rifle. The blue arc caught Clem in the shoulder, and sent him reeling.

Clarke started after Clem, but Sophie stretched out her leg and tripped him. As he fell, Clark reached out to brace his fall and dropped his taser. Meanwhile, Richards started swinging at Spike with the stock of his rifle.

"Damn," Spike muttered. He dodged the blows from Richards, but the chip prevented him from taking any offensive action.

The chaos of the battle came to a sudden halt as everyone heard a loud hiss echo through the tunnel. On the ground, Clarke grabbed a flashlight from one of his cargo pockets and shone it down the tunnel. A four-foot lizard was making a hasty charge toward them.

"It's the Eftena!" Clarke shouted. He rose to his knees and grabbed for his weapon, but the lizard, instinctively sensing Clarke's aggression, jumped on him and sank its teeth into his neck. The Eftena dropped Clarke's lifeless body to the ground, and turned its attention to Sophie. She screamed as the reptile's eyes gazed down on her.

Clem saw the Eftena approach Sophie, pushed himself up on his good arm, and launched himself at the lizard creature wrestling it to the ground. Richards raised his rifle, ready to take out the two demons with one shot.

"Clem!" Spike shouted. "Switch!"

Clem looked up, then released the Eftena and lumbered toward Richards. Spike then ran to the Eftena, and kicked it across the jaw as it attempted to get to its feet. He grasped the Eftena's head, and snapped its neck with one twist.

As Spike turned to check out the rest of the action, Clem was knocked backward by a blow to the chest from the butt of Richard's rifle, propelling Clem into Spike. The pair hit the concrete, and Richards stood above them, pointing his rifle at both of them.

"Now," Richards said, "I'll finish the job. We shoulda killed the two of you when...ugh!"

Richards dropped to the ground, twitching and writhing in pain. Clem and Spike looked up, and saw Sophie standing behind Richards. Steam was rising from the barrel of Clarke's rifle. Sophie was pointing it at Richards' head.

Richards turned over, groaning in pain. He froze as he saw Sophie standing above him.

"Your friend's dead," Sophie hissed. "And you're not looking too good either. I'd suggest you go home. And if I ever hear that you're messing around with demons again, I'll finish you off myself. Now beat it."

Richards scrambled to his feet and ran down the tunnel into the darkness.

Sophie dropped the rifle to the ground and began trembling. Clem got up and walked to her side.

"Oh my god," Sophie muttered. "I shot...and the lizard was...and he...and I...and I said...and...."

"You did fine," Clem said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Do you think he believed me?" Sophie asked.

"Hell, I was ready to bugger off myself," Spike said, rising to his feet.

"You did real good," Clem said. "I don't think we'll see any more of him."

"Yeah," Spike said, grabbing a cigarette from his coat. "No soldier boys around for the rest of the Solstice. Heh. Worked out just fine."

"I don't believe I did that," Sophie said.

"Well, you did," Clem said. "And I don't think the Slayer could have done any...hey, Sophie! You're not glowing!"

Sophie looked at her hands and arms, and saw that, in fact, the glow had gone away.

"You're cured," Clem observed.

"Yeah," Sophie said. "I think I am."

Epilogue

"Are you sure you want to keep that thing?"

"Yeah," Sophie said, glancing down at the rifle she cradled in her arms as she walked. "I dunno, Clem. I guess it's kind of a souvenir. Or maybe just to make sure I remember things right. I don't want to start forgetting the way I did after Buffy's party. It's important that I know that all this really happened."

"Suit yourself," Clem said. "Just be careful. Those things can be dangerous."

"I can handle it," Sophie said.

"So is this it?" Clem asked. "You said it was number seven-oh-nine."

"Oh, yeah," Sophie said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "This is my house."

"Well, I said I'd get you home," Clem said. "Sorry it took so long."

"Are you kidding?" Sophie said. "You were great. And...well...it was scary, but...it was kinda...well, fun."

"Well, I should...."

"Hey, Clem," Sophie said. "Would you like to come in? I mean, my folks have cable. We could watch some TV. Maybe throw a movie in the VCR. I could pop some popcorn, and...."

Clem swallowed hard. His head dropped. Sophie noticed that his large ears flapped as he sighed. Over the course of the night, Sophie had forgotten that Clem was...what he was. But Clem hadn't. Demons who like Nick-at-Nite never forget that they are different.

"You should get some sleep," Clem finally said. "It's been a long night. I know you don't stay out late very often. But, you know, you should. You should start going to parties more. But maybe not with Buffy. You should start making friends with normal people. I mean...people your own age. Maybe that guy Paul. He sounds really nice. I bet he'll ask you out again. Yep, I'll bet he will. And if he doesn't, maybe you should ask him. Guys like that. They really do."

"I guess," Sophie said, unsure of what else she could say.

"I'd better get home," Clem said. "You have a good night."

Clem turned and began walking down the street.

"Clem!" Sophie shouted.

Clem turned.

"Thank you," she said. "Really. Thanks. For everything. Maybe, someday...."

"Goodbye, Sophie," Clem said. He waived, and then continued walking, until eventually he was out of sight.

Sophie stood in front of her house. Clem was right. She had to find a place in her own world, and Clem was a very sweet, very kind creature that was not part of that world.

Sophie walked up to the front door of her house, got out her keys, unlocked the door, and walked in. Her mother, wearing a pink terrycloth robe, was sitting in the living room to the left of the foyer.

"Sophie!" her mother exclaimed, rising to her feet. "Where have you been? Your father and I have been worried sick!"

"I'm fine," Sophie muttered.

"Don't hand me that, young lady!" her mother shouted. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? I've already called the police! What have you been up to? What have...and what is that thing you're carrying?"

"It's a taser rifle," Sophie calmly explained. "It was created by the military to subdue monsters."

"What?!? Sophie, are you on something? It's that girl from work, isn't it? She's got you taking drugs! You're obviously imagining some...."

Sophie interrupted her mother by leveling the rifle, aiming it to her left, and firing at a lamp across the room. With a sharp sizzle, and then a loud bang, the porcelain shattered as the blue electricity struck it. Sophie's mother gasped, then turned wordlessly to face her daughter.

"I said I'm fine," Sophie said. "There's nothing wrong with me. Nothing. But I am tired. I'm going to bed. Goodnight, mother."

Her mother watched as Sophie quietly turned and began climbing the stairs to her room. On her way down the hall, Sophie decided that she would get the twenty-five dollar plan with her new cell phone. She might not use all four hundred of the anytime minutes, but Sophie was feeling extravagant.

THE END

NARRATIVE REPORT

AGENT'S NAME: Miller, Graham

AGENT'S DESIGNATION: Agent

AGENT'S CURRENT STATION: Sunnydale, California (reassignment pending)

DATE: 6/06/00

ASSIGNMENT CLEARANCE NO.: D2G144269

AGENTS ARE REMINDED THAT NO FACTS, CONVERSATIONS, OR OTHER INFORMATION, WHETHER CONSIDERED BY THE AGENT TO BE MATERIAL OR IMMATERIAL, SHALL BE OMITTED FROM THIS REPORT.

6/2/00, 23:30, PST.

I didn't want this assignment. If I'd had my choice, I would have never returned to Sunnydale. Unfortunately, if you're one of the few surviving members of a failed covert operation, you don't have a lot of choices. I had one chance to earn back my spurs. I took it.

I was standing in front of the frat house with my duffle bag over my shoulder. Goodman pulled up at exactly eleven-thirty p.m. He was right on time, just like you'd expect from a military man. He reached over and opened the passenger door. I jumped in, and he drove down the street.

"Miller, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "You're Goodman?"

"That's me," Goodman replied. "We can be at the safe house in five minutes."

"Don't go straight there," I instructed. "Some of the other guys might see us. I'm supposed to be on my way to the airport."

"Oh, yeah," Goodman said. "Sorry. I'll head up to Franklin, then loop back around. I guess most of the others opted to get out, after the whole Initiative fiasco."

"Yep," I said.

"I've heard a lot about you," Goodman said. "Impressive stuff. I'm glad you picked me to work on this one. I'm just sorry I didn't get through training in time to get in on the Initiative project."

Yeah, I thought. Poor guy.

"I read your outline for this mission," Goodman continued. "Interesting. Kind of...well...when I first read the mission objective, I thought this was going to be a simple snatch and grab. I'm surprised that Major Ellis authorized so much civilian contact. If we just drugged the kid, we could do the surgery and he'd never know what happened. I mean, it's like something out of a bad spy novel or...um, sorry."

"Turn here," I told Goodman. "Head for the safe house."

"Gotcha," Goodman said, turning onto Franklin Street. "It's just that...you know...we're a military operation. They taught us in training that the simplest approaches usually are the most effective. Maintain covert status. Quick execution. By the book."

"Did they also teach you not to question a senior agent?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, yes, sir."

"That's better," I said. I was in no mood to explain myself to an agent who was only two weeks out of training.

"Will Agent Finn be participating in this mission?" Goodman asked.

"Riley Finn is no longer on board," I said.

"I guess that's why they gave this assignment to you," Goodman said. "I mean, you were the one who got closest to...."

"Goodman?"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't a business for people who like to talk."

"Um, yeah. Sorry."

"We're here," I said, as Goodman pulled up to the curb in front of the safe house. He cut the engine, and we both walked up to the front door. I stooped down and placed my open palm on the black glass flower pot by the door. A dim glow indicated that the scanner was working. After it had verified my hand print, the front door swung open, and Goodman and I entered the house. Agent Marks and two others were waiting in the hallway.

"Graham," Marks said. "Good to see you. This is Agent Brown and Agent Henderson."

Brown I'd expected. I'd handpicked all of the agents for this mission. Henderson I didn't expect.

"What about Ramsey?" I asked.

"He's still on the mend," Marks replied. "The Brass sent Henderson to fill in."

I shook Brown's hand, then shook Henderson's.

"How's the shoulder?" I asked Marks.

"Not too bad," he replied. "They got out the quills from that Ixcartha demon that clawed me on the way out of the Initiative. The doctors say I should get back a full range of motion in a couple of months. I'm just glad I got out at all."

"Do we have them?" I asked.

"They're in the basement," Marks confirmed.

"Is everything ready?"

"Pretty much. The basement's all set up, Doctor Saunders is here, and the pre-mission report is on your desk upstairs."

"Good," I said. "Come up with me. Goodman, take Brown and Henderson downstairs and keep an eye on things."

"Yes, sir," Goodman said. He walked with Brown and Henderson toward a door behind the stairs. Marks walked up the stairs with me.

"How much does Henderson know?" I asked.

"Not much," Marks replied. "He just transferred from the Sub-T research department over at the FBI. I figured you'd want to brief him."

"Not really," I said. "This mission's need to know."

"Fair enough," Marks said, as we got to a door at the top of the stairs. "Your office is set up in here. Well, it's your office until Ellis shows up. The file's on the desk."

"Good," I said, walking in. "I'll go over it. You go downstairs and keep an eye on the others. They're a little green, so you may have to hold their hands."

"Got it," Marks said. He left the office. I shut the door behind him, sat behind the desk, and started in on the file.

A quick review of the file showed that everything had been prepared as I'd asked. Henderson's dossier was included. He'd been deep cover for about two years in the Occult Intelligence branch of the FBI, researching demon cultures. He'd actually spent six months in Sunnydale, documenting Sub-T migration patterns. They'd pulled him out of the field after his partner got vamped in a raid on a nest in Frisco. I would have preferred Ramsey, but I couldn't really complain about having someone on the team who'd just come off a bad mission.

There was one other thing I wasn't happy about. A safe house is supposed to have secured rooms. Whoever had arranged for this house hadn't checked the soundproofing. The floor vents for the heating system were old, and sound carried through them from room to room. I knew this because I could hear the conversation from the basement.

"So that's him?" a voice asked. I recognized the voice as Brown's.

"Yep," Marks' voice replied.

"He doesn't talk much," Brown observed.

"He talked even less when he wasn't in charge," Marks replied.

"I wish he wouldn't talk at all," Goodman said. "He's got an attitude problem. All I did was say that this operation seemed a little out there, and he starts all in on...."

"Goodman," Marks interjected, "when you've seen half of what we've seen, you'll be entitled to pass judgment on our plans, and our attitudes. Things got ugly. Real ugly. We buried a lot of good agents, and it was mostly because we thought we could just waltz into Sunnydale and take control. We were wrong. I'm not sure I would have signed off on Graham's plan, but that's not my call, and it's a better plan than anything Professor Walsh ever came up with. So why don't you just keep your thoughts to yourself?"

"Is anyone going to tell me what this plan is?" Henderson asked.

"You haven't been briefed?" Goodman asked. "Oh, boy, you're not gonna believe this. Major Ellis authorizes us to come in here and grab...."

"Enough, Goodman," Marks said. "We've all been told what we need to know. You'll find out soon enough, Henderson."

I actually thought about going downstairs and dishing out a little attitude adjustment. I decided against it. Maybe they were right. And right or wrong, I just wanted this mission over with. I locked the file in the top drawer of the desk, and made my way downstairs.

As I descended the stairway to the basement, I saw the agents seated on the chairs that had been set up against the wall. A guy in a white coat (who I recognized as Dr. Saunders from his dossier) stood by the operating tables and equipment. In the center of the room, two men lay unconscious, each with their hands bound behind their backs.

"Approve of the setup?" Marks asked.

"Not really," I said. "But it'll have to do. They give you any trouble?"

"Brown did most of the hard part," Marks said. "I pretty much watched and let him take care of the physical end. My shoulder wouldn't let me do much else."

"Well?" I asked Brown.

"Neither one was a big problem," Brown replied. "The kid went down as soon as the chloroform hit. The other one struggled a little, but he really couldn't retaliate with that chip in his head. When Hostile 17 tried to take a swing at me, he...."

"Brown," I said.

"Yes, sir?"

"Hostiles One through Sixteen are no longer in custody. He's called Spike."

"Oh, yeah," Brown said. "Well, when Spike tried to hit me, the chip kicked in. He was on the ground holding his head when I finally got the chloroform on him. After that, he was out like a light."

"Alright, wake the kid," I instructed. Dr. Saunders grabbed a packet of smelling salts off of one of the instrument trays, walked over, stooped beside the sleeping pair, and waived the packet around until a coughing sound filled the basement.

"Hello, Xander," I said.

Xander blinked, gasped, and fell back into unconsciousness.

"This make take awhile," Dr. Saunders said, reaching into his lab coat to grab a hypodermic.

6/3/00, 01:14, PST

"Ugh, my head," Xander said, struggling to sit up. Spike sat beside him. His vampire strength must have allowed the effects of the chloroform to wear off more quickly.

"Where am I?" Xander asked no one in particular.

"In a basement with the army wankers," Spike replied.

"Spike?" Xander asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, I suspect," Spike surmised.

"Not exactly," I said.

"Graham?" Xander asked.

"It's me," I said. "Look, we need to talk."

"Yeah, do that," Spike said. "Meanwhile, what say you let me go before I rip yer head off?"

"Spike, we put that chip in you," I said. "Don't insult my intelligence with empty threats. Now, do you two want to know what's going on?"

Spike glared at me, but remained silent. Xander looked at me with a combination of fear and curiosity in his eyes.

"Look, Xander," I said. "No one's sorry than I am about what happened in the Initiative. As soon as things are squared away, I'm out of here for good. But we found out about one of Professor Walsh's experiments that needs...containing. It involves you."

"Me?" Xander said. "How?"

"Professor Walsh was interested in human/demon hybrids," I explained. "She took samples from the demons she captured, including your friend Spike."

"He's NOT my friend," Xander protested.

"Bloody well right I'm not," Spike agreed.

"In any event," I said, "she took tissue samples. Hair, fingernail clippings, and...fluids."

"Fluids," Xander repeated. "Like blood?"

"Well, no," I said. "Blood wouldn't really tell us anything. I mean, it's not his blood in him. No, these samples were a little more...intimate."

"Intimate?" Spike asked. "What do you...hey, you don't mean...?"

"We have...technicians," I explained, "who specialize in collecting...well, samples."

"So while Spike was knocked out and getting that chip in his head," Xander deduced, "you were also getting a sample of his...."

"You bastards!" Spike screamed.

The vamp broke the plastic restraints on his hands. He lunged for me, but the chip kicked in before he could get within a foot of me. He collapsed to the ground in pain.

"Aw, poor Spike," Xander said, a giddy smile crossing his face. "Don't worry, I'm sure the nice soldiers will give you your sample back. If you're a good boy, you might get a free army thermos out of the deal."

"We can't give it back," I said. "Professor Walsh used it."

"Used it?" Xander asked, turning his attention back to me. "For what?"

"Perhaps Dr. Saunders could explain better," I said. Sanders came forward with a manila file in his hands.

"The point of Professor Walsh's experiment was to see if the DNA of a vampire could create a human/vampire crossbreed," Saunders explained. "DNA strands from the hair and skin were grafted to the single-celled organisms that were placed within the...sample...and then were fertilized with a human ovum. The fertilized egg was then stored for implantation until a suitable human host could be found."

"I still don't see what this has to do with me," Xander protested.

"According to Professor Walsh's notes," Saunders continued, "there was some concern that if a female subject was used to carry the fetus, the natural defense of the woman's reproductive system would cause a miscarriage. She theorized that the experiment would stand a better chance of success if the embryo were implanted in the abdominal cavity of a male subject."

"So she wanted to use a man," Xander said. "How do I fit into...wait a minute. You're not saying that....that...."

"She also wanted to use a subject with natural resistence to the side effects of dark magic," Saunders said, flipping through pages of the file. "According to her dossier on the Slayer's circle of friends, you grew up in Sunnydale, and actually attended high school on top of a Hellmouth. Continual exposure to a center of mystical convergence made you an ideal subject for...."

"You son of a...!" Xander said, trying to lunge at Saunders. Since he didn't have a vampire's strength, the plastic restraints kept his hands behind his back, and the imbalance kept him from getting to his feet. He fell backwards.

"Hold on just a bloody, buggery minute!" Spike shouted. "Are you saying my...stuff...is in his tummy?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking," Dr. Saunders chimed in. "Since the DNA was spliced directly into the ovum, it's purely your DNA. However, it's been grafted to living tissue. We could learn a great deal from the development of...."

"You impregnated me with Spike's baby?!?" Xander exclaimed.

"Not us," I said. "Professor Walsh. If the brass knew what she was up to, they would have never...."

"Spike," Xander said. "Are you sure you can't kill these guys?"

"Not with this chip," Spike replied. "Tell you what. We'll team up. You kill them, and I'll drink the blood out of them."

"I can't get my hands...how is that teaming up!?" Xander exclaimed.

"Well, it's all I can do," Spike said.

"This is all your fault, Spike!" Xander shouted.

"My fault? How the hell is it my fault?"

"You promised to stay out of Sunnydale!" Xander accused. "If you'd stayed out of town like you promised, none of this would have happened!"

"If I'd stayed out of Sunnydale, you would have died in the bloody bunker, you twit!"

"We wouldn't have been in that bunker if you hadn't lured us there!"

"You wanted in!"

"You were trying to kill us!"

"And I would have, if that git Adam hadn't bollixed it up!"

"Will the two of you please listen," I said. I'd be collecting Social Security in Sunnydale if I waited for those two to stop shouting at each other.

"I don't buy a word of this," Xander said. "It's...it's...ridiculous. There's no way."

"Doctor," I said, turning to Sanders.

"Mr...Harris, is it?" Sanders said, getting out a chart and a pen. "Yes, Harris. Mr. Harris, about four months ago...specifically around January twenty-eighth, did you notice any generalized abdominal pains?"

"No," Xander denied. "I didn't...well, I did have sore abs for a couple of days. I worked a construction job at the end of January. I was saving for Anya's Valentine's present."

"Actually, the discomfort was from the injection of the embryo into your abdomen by a pair of technicians while you were sleeping...I believe...yes, in your parents' basement," Saunders said, his finger tracing lines on a page from the file.

"That's crazy," Xander said. "It was just from exertion. I was sore all over."

"So...you experienced general muscle and joint stiffness concurrent with, or shortly after the abdominal pains?" Saunders asked.

"Well, I suppose," Xander admitted.

Sanders and I exchanged knowing glances.

"How about weight gain?" Saunders continued. "Have you noticed any weight gain over the past three to six weeks? Somewhere between five and fifteen pounds?"

"Not...really," Xander stammered. "I mean, I may have gained a little. But that's because they opened this donut shop down on Main Street. The apple cinnamon turnovers are really good. I have them every morning."

"So," Saunders said, pausing to take a pen out of his pocket and take notes in his file, "would you describe your appetite for these pastries as a...craving?"

"Well, I guess that's one way of...oh, my God."

Xander's face dropped into his hands.

"Well," Spike said, "you always did remind me of a wet nurse. More because of the whining and pansy-ass screaming, but...."

"Spike!" Xander shouted. "One more word out of you and...!"

"Hormones," Spike said, turning to the doctor. "Maybe you could have one of the soldier boys rub his feet?"

It took both Brown and Henderson to hold Xander down before he could take a lunge at Spike. The plastic ties on the kid's wrists were rated for 350 pounds of tensile strength, but as mad as he was, I wasn't sure it would be enough.

"Alright, you two," I said. "We've talked about the problem. Doctor, the solution."

"We've expanded on some of the technology developed by Dr. Walsh," Saunders said. "This," he said, walking over to a tank against the back wall of the room, "is a containment unit. With the proper mix of plasma and liquid protein, it will allow the demon to gestate to term."

Xander calmed down enough to focus on Dr. Saunders.

"These electro-dynamic impulse units," Saunders continued, gesturing toward a series of wires running from a computer terminal onto the tank, "will allow us to both simulate a living metabolism within the tank, and monitor the development of the creature. All we need to do is remove the demon from your abdominal cavity and transfer it to the gestating chamber. We can prepare you for surgery in about two hours. The procedure will be done by morning. After that, you'll be off your feet for about a day. With our laser surgical techniques, you'll experience no ill effects beyond what you'd feel after a simple appendectomy. Less, actually, if there are no complications. There's no danger to you whatsoever."

Xander paused, then asked:

"No danger?"

"None," Saunders replied.

"And after that, I'm fine?"

"Perfectly fine," Saunders said.

Xander drew a breath, and then said:

"Alright. Whatever. I just want this over."

"Doctor, if you would get started," I said. "Spike, we need to take some tissue samples."

"We unfortunately don't have any of Dr. Walsh's original specimens," Saunders said. "We need some samples of your DNA to calibrate the fluid composition to make it compatible with the creature's cellular makeup."

"Wait a minute," Spike said. "I don't care what you idiots want to do for Xander and science and all that rot, but there's no chance in Hell I'm letting you take another dose of my...."

"No, no," Saunders said. "Nothing like that. Just hair and nail clippings, for the DNA."

"How do we know you're not going to kill us once we're unconscious?" Xander asked.

"You were unconscious when we brought you here," I said. "We could have killed you already."

"He's got a point," Spike said.

"I take it you'll cooperate, then?"

"Fine," Spike said. "Anything so I don't have to hear this ponce whine all night."

"Spike," Xander said, "when this is over I swear I'm gonna...."

"We're in agreement then," I said, not wanting to give Xander and Spike another opportunity to argue again. "Brown, you and Goodman get them set on the tables. Henderson, get upstairs and watch the door. Holler if their friends don't come looking for them. Doctor, upstairs. We need final clearance from HQ."

Brown and Goodman led Spike and Xander over to the tables. Saunders, Marks, Henderson and I walked up the stairs out of the basement. We left Henderson at the front door to keep watch. When we got to the office up at the top of the stairs, I closed the door behind us.

"How long to get Harris prepped?" I asked Saunders.

"About two hours," he answered, "if we follow standard surgical protocols to screen for infection and adverse reaction to anesthetics. Of course, this is a field operation, so I can cut a few corners and...."

"Don't," I interrupted. "I don't want any risk of complications."

Marks and Saunders exchanged worried glances.

"Any problem with that?" I asked, a deliberate hint of annoyance in my voice.

"You're in charge," Saunders said. He turned and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him. I could hear his footsteps go down the outside stairs, and then down into the basement.

"You sure you want to do it this way?" Marks asked.

"Yes," I said, walking past Marks and taking a seat at the desk. Desks convey authority. At least, I hoped this one would.

"We could have snatched the kid," Marks continued. "Had him in surgery and dumped him back in his basement, and no one would have...."

"And when he woke up?" I retorted. "He'd know he was gassed, he'd know he had surgery, and he'd tell his friends."

"So what? They'd never know...."

"The Hell they wouldn't," I said. "We underestimated this town once, and in the end I had to hose some of my best friends off my boots. So did you. This time, we use our brains."

"You're not going soft, are you, Graham? You seem a little too worried about hurting this civilian."

"I'm not a murderer. And even if I were, this whole mission is for nothing if the kid dies in a toxic seizure from the anesthetic."

"We could have done without the vampire," Marks said. "He wasn't necessary."

I made a mental note to include Marks if we ever had to do a tough interrogation. Switching subjects is a tried and true way of shaking someone's nerves. Fortunately, I knew that, too.

"The vampire is necessary," I replied. "The kid's going to want to tell someone eventually. Now, he doesn't have to. Someone knows, and they'll both keep their mouths shut."

"If we'd just taken the kid...."

"No civilian casualties."

"That didn't seem to be a big priority for the brass."

"It's my priority. And I've just about had it with insubordination."

"You might want to check your priorities, Graham," Marks said, turning to leave. He opened the door. "No one's going to want to give you a command in the hot spots if you can't get your hands dirty in Sunnydale."

After Marks was gone, I tried to focus on the reports on my desk. I should have been thrilled. I'd made a tough assignment about ten times tougher, but so far it was going according to plan. It would have to. Marks was right. This was my shot. The tragedy of Professor Walsh's spectacular failure wouldn't stay fresh in the Pentagon's memory forever. If my own attempt at a kinder, gentler espionage was going to get me my job back, there was no room for error.

6/3/00, 02:53, PST

I was about halfway through typing my interim mission report when I heard a crash down in the basement. I grabbed my Beretta and a stake out of my duffel bag and ran down the stairs. By the time I got to the basement, whatever had happened was over. Marks was rubbing his shoulder, Henderson was getting up from the floor, Saunders was hiding behind one of the tables, and Brown and Goodman were looking out of a broken window along the ceiling of the basement.

"What the Hell happened?" I screamed.

"Vampires," Spike said. I turned. He was standing in the corner, pulling a cigarette out of his jacket.

"No smoking," I said. "Marks, where's...?"

"They took him," Marks replied. "Four of them. They came out of nowhere."

"How did they get in?" Goodman asked. "No one invited them."

"Nobody lives here," Henderson explained. "They only need an invitation to get into an actual home."

"They came in through the window," Brown said, turning toward me. "They were fast, and they knew what they wanted."

"Did they kill the kid?" I asked.

"No, he was alive," Marks said.

"Probably worshiping him as we speak," Spike said.

I turned to the vampire. "You know them?"

"Not personally," Spike said. "But I know who they are."

"Spill."

"Alright," Spike said. He lit his lighter and held it to the cigarette in his mouth. It didn't take a genius to realize that it was an open act of defiance. The vamp had something in mind.

"More than happy to lend a hand, mate," he said, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette. "We'll have a nice, long talk about the vamps who snatched your little guinea pig...after the doc here does a little favor for me."

"What do you want, Spike?" I didn't have time for niceties. Ellis was going to arrive in about an hour.

"You take this chip out of my head," Spike said, "and I tell you what I know about the vamps."

They teach you a lot of negotiating tricks in training. I wasn't going to use any of them.

"Goodman," I said. "Break a leg off one of the chairs and stake him."

"Wait a minute," Spike protested. "If you want...."

"I don't want anything that bad," I interrupted. "Vamps get the kid, worst case scenario is there's another demon on the street, and another dead civilian in Sunnydale. That's nothing new. You, on the other hand, are a different story. We let you live because we thought you were harmless. Your little proposition shows you're still a threat. Goodman, I'm waiting."

Goodman walked over to one of the chairs against the wall.

"Alright, alright," Spike said. "Bloody hell, you can't blame a bloke for trying."

"Yes, I can," I said. "I think that was the point. Now, who were they?"

"There's this vampire sect," Spike sighed. "They've been around a few odd centuries. One of the vamps who snatched Xander said something about praising Ul-Thar. He was some kind of a prophet. Wrote a bunch of rot about a vamp having a baby that would do all kinds of nasty stuff to humanity. Just about any vamp who's been around long enough runs into them."

"Great," Marks said. "Just what we need. We delay our withdrawal from Sunnydale for a day to take care of business, and we run into a messianic vampire cult."

"We've got to find the kid," I muttered.

"We should wait for Ellis," Henderson said. "He may want to just scrub this one. It's getting out of hand."

"We're not leaving," I stated.

"That should be Ellis's call," Henderson said. "This isn't within...."

"How did they know?"

Everyone stared at me.

"What do you mean, Graham?" Marks asked.

"They knew the mission," I said. "And where to find us. How did they know all that?"

"Maybe the vamp," Henderson replied. "You heard him. He want's the chip out. Maybe he contacted these guys so he could...."

"He hasn't been alone since he got here," I said. "But you have, Henderson."

"What?!"

"Demon cultures, that was your specialty with the Feds, right? And you were in Sunnydale on assignment last year. Plus, you're the only one who's been alone since we got here."

"That's crap," Henderson spat. "Don't try and pin something on me because your stupid plan went haywire! I didn't...."

"Your partner died," I continued. "You wouldn't blame the government for that, would you? Maybe you took the transfer to the military to make a little money? Or get a little payback? Or both?"

"If that makes anyone a suspect, it's you, Miller," Henderson shot back.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't me," I said. "We issued everyone a cell phone as a part of their civilian cover. We generally don't advertise that all calls are traced and recorded. When we get your calls analyzed, what are we going to hear, Henderson?"

Henderson didn't have an answer for that.

"Look," I said. "We're not the FBI. We don't even exist on any records. We don't send traitors to jail. They just disappear. You don't really think that McNamara died down in the Initiative, do you?"

Actually, he did, but a good bluff can work wonders.

Henderson sighed. "Look, they said they weren't going to hurt the kid. They just...."

"Where are they?" I asked.

"They said they'd meet up with me after I could sneak away. They offered money. But that's not what this was about. My partner...."

"Where. Are. They."

"A warehouse on 18th and Hauser," Henderson admitted.

"Take him upstairs," I told Brown. "Goodman, get the vamp tied to a chair until this mess is over."

Brown pulled a .45 out of his belt and gestured for Henderson to walk upstairs. Goodman grabbed a plastic tie out of one of his pockets and walked over to Spike.

"Good detective work," Marks whispered as he walked over to me. "You were right. It had to be Henderson. He was the only one who thought...."

"It could have been anybody," I said. "Any one of us could have contacted the vamps and made a deal for some quick cash."

Marks frowned. "They how did you know...?"

"I didn't," I said. "But he was the only one I didn't pick for this mission. If it was anyone but Henderson, it would have put me in hot water, and I figured my luck had to change eventually."

"So now what?"

"You sit tight," I instructed. "Wait for Ellis. I'll go get the kid."

"Alone? Are you nuts? I can keep an eye on Henderson and the vamp. You can bring Goodman and Brown for backup."

"If we mount up everyone," I said, "and Ellis gets here before we get the kid back, it'll look like a disaster. I go alone and bring him back, it looks like a minor setback."

"I'm going with you," Marks said.

"With that shoulder?"

"Ellis will figure it was a really minor setback," Marks replied. "How bad could it have been if I go along?"

I didn't have time to argue. And he was right. Four on one against a vampire gang made for steep odds, and if I got myself killed, the whole operation went up in smoke.

6/3/00, 03:42 a.m. PST

Marks and I got to the warehouse as quickly as we could. We both grabbed taser rifles out of the back of the SUV and circled around the perimeter. There was a service entrance near the back. A lone vamp guarded the door.

We crouched behind a stack of crates and waited for the vamp to turn away. Marks took aim and landed a taser blast on the vamps arm. I jumped out as quickly as I could. The vamp was still shaking on the ground when I shoved a stake into his heart. Fortunately, he was dust before he could scream.

Marks and I crept to either side of the door. I looked in through a small window. The coast was clear. I opened the door as quietly as I could and snuck in. Marks followed behind me.

We made our way through the stacks of crates toward the sounds of voices. When we got close enough, I saw Xander tied to a chair in the middle of a trio of vamps.

"So let me get this straight," Xander said to one of the vamps. "I'm kinda like...Jesus?"

"Well, if you insist on using a Christian metaphor," the vamp replied, "you're more like the Virgin Mary."

"Well," Xander said, "I hate to disappoint you, but...."

"You don't have to be a...oh, forget it," the vamp said. "All you need to know is that you carry the One prophesied to lead our glorious race to victory over the humans."

"So...I have this baby, and you let me go?"

"Actually, you have the baby and we nourish it with your flesh."

"I wouldn't count on that," I said. Marks and I walked out with our rifles pointed at the vamps. The Initiative must have really made an impression on the lower beasts of Sunnydale, because the vamps looked at the tasers and immediately stepped back.

"You!" the vamp shouted. "You dare defile this sacred event!"

"You got that right," Marks said, walking over to Xander, and cutting him loose with his combat knife.

"You will pay for your interference," the vamps threatened. "Nothing you can do can stop the coming of the miracle child! As Ul-Thar wrote, so shall it be!"

"Listen," I said. "If the miracle child was going to be carried by a man, wouldn't you think Ul-Thar would have mentioned it?"

"Well...we're looking into that."

"Yeah, well, let us know how that goes," Marks said, helping Xander to his feet with one hand and pointing his taser with the other.

"You're not leaving, humans."

"It's three on three," I said. "And we've got weapons."

Footsteps emerged from behind the crates. I counted eight vampires surrounding us, plus the three standing before us. That made it three on one, and one for good measure.

"We've been recruiting," the head vampire said, a twisted smile crossing his face.

I shot a quick glance at Marks and Xander. The kid looked like he was going to be sick. Marks kept up a good front, but we both knew that we couldn't fight our way out.

At that moment, the lights in the warehouse suddenly went dim. I fired my taser at the lead vamp. Marks took out one as soon as I'd fired. I didn't know what happened to the lights, but I wasn't going to wait to find out.

The vamps started advancing. We got a few of them with the taser fire. Three slipped through, and we started grappling with them hand-to-hand. I'll give the kid credit; he'd been knocked out twice in the same night, but he held his own.

I concentrated on trying to throw the vamp I'd grabbed off to the side, figuring that another would be close behind him. Finally, the vamp overwhelmed me with his strength and wrestled me to the ground. He was on top of me, trying to get in biting distance. I was struggling to keep his fangs from my neck when I felt him disintegrate in my hands. As he disappeared, I saw that a shadowy figure stood above him.

I heard the quick footsteps of scattering vampires headed for the exits. Apparently the confusion convinced them to make a hasty retreat. Marks must have taken a shot at one of them as they ran, because I heard the crackle of the taser, and a blue light illuminated the air for a moment. That moment of visibility was all I needed to identify the shadow that had saved my life.

"Hey, Riley," I said. I reached out a hand toward him. Riley didn't move. After a moment, I figured my tacit request for assistance was being rejected, so I lifted myself to my feet.

"Graham," Riley said grimly, shoving his stake into his belt.

"Finn?" Marks asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm patrolling, the way us civilian citizens of Sunnydale are apt to do," Riley replied. "Xander, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"The question is," Riley continued, "what are you doing here?"

I didn't answer.

"I guess that story about transferring to UC Davis was just a lie?" Riley asked.

"No," I said. "It was my cover. You know the drill."

"I should have known," Riley muttered.

"Look, Riley...."

"No, you look, Graham," Riley interrupted. "I thought we were friends."

"We are," I said. "This is business. It was your business, too. Remember?"

"Yeah, and what a great business it was," Riley retorted. "What's Xander doing here?"

I had to think fast. I didn't like lying to Riley, but I wasn't in a position that gave me a choice.

"I've seen the kid in action," I finally said. "He handles himself alright. We're always looking for good people. I asked him to meet us here and made him an offer. He turned us down. Something about a girlfriend. I guess there's a lot of that going around."

Riley looked into my eyes, trying to find a hint of deception. Apparently he came up empty, because he called out:

"Is that true, Xander?"

And there we were. The true test of the mission. These weren't the circumstances I'd hoped for, but it was as good a trial as any. The whole mission was pointless if Xander blabbed about it to his friends.

"Um, yeah," Xander said. "Graham called and said he wanted to talk. When I found out what he wanted, I told him to take off. We were about to break it up when the vamps showed. Guess it was kind of a lucky break for me, huh? Being with a bunch of commandos when the vamps attacked?"

"Yeah, real lucky," Riley said.

So, given the choice between admitting to his friends that he'd been impregnated by a vampire, or keeping his mouth shut, Xander picked the latter. Hey, who wouldn't?

"Look," I said. "We're not here to cause any trouble. We're just...."

"Up to the same old games," Riley completed. "I don't believe you, Graham. After what happened to Forrest, after what happened to everybody, and you signed on to go at it again."

"The brass is gonna fight demons with or without us," I shot back. "Quitting doesn't solve anything. I'm trying to make a difference."

"So am I," Riley said. "I just don't have to lie to my friends to do it."

"Really? So where's your girlfriend?"

"She's none of your business!"

"Riley, you try and beat this town by yourself, and it'll take you down."

"I'm not by myself."

"It sure looks like you are. I know you, Riley. You're never gonna be happy as the Slayer's sidekick. That girl's not enough reason for you to...."

"Graham," Riley said. "I want you to stay away. Stay away from my town. Stay away from my friends. And stay away from me. Sunnydale's off limits to anyone on the Pentagon payroll. I see you in my town again, there's gonna be trouble."

"It's not your town," I shouted, as Riley turned and walked toward the exit. "It's cursed! It got Forrest and it'll get you, too! There's nothing here for us but bad luck!"

Riley didn't even pause as he walked out the door.

I must've been standing there for longer than I thought, because Marks came up behind me and asked:

"You OK?"

I didn't answer.

"Hey, kid," Marks called to Xander. "Go wait for us in the truck. We'll be out in a minute."

"Sure," Xander said. As he got to the door, Xander called back:

"Hey, Graham. Thanks for not telling Riley about...well, you know. I appreciate that."

I didn't answer him, either.

"Look," Marks said, once Xander had left. "We're done here. We get the kid into surgery, we take off, and we never have to come back to this town again. After awhile...."

"I'll be back," I said.

"What? Why?"

"You remember what they taught us in tactics training, Marks? Rule Number One? The first, last and only rule that matters?"

"Yeah," Marks said. "Leave no one behind."

"Let's get the kid back to the safe house," I said.

"Graham," Marks said. "That rule, it...it doesn't apply here. Riley's not one of us anymore."

"Let's go," I said.

We drove back to the safe house in silence.

6/3/00, 04:39 a.m, PST

Goodman was upstairs watching Henderson as Xander waited downstairs for the surgery to start. Brown was down there, too, keeping an eye on Spike. I was standing at the front door with Marks. We were both waiting for Ellis to arrive. He was due any minute.

"Well, I guess all's well that ends well," I said.

"We'll see when Ellis arrives," Marks replied. "I doubt he's going to like the way you handled this one."

"He could have shut us down," I said. "I emailed him the mission report."

"Yeah, and he probably didn't read it until he got on the transport plane. He's not going to like trusting the security of this operation to the discretion of a couple of civilians, especially when one of them's a vamp."

"They won't talk," I said. "The warehouse proved that."

"For the moment," Marks said. "But how do you know that, once the shock wears off, one of them won't...?"

Marks was interrupted by the sounds of a scuffle in the basement. We both ran down the stairs. The last thing I needed was something else to go wrong.

As we got down there, both Brown and Saunders were trying to restrain Xander, as Spike stood a few feet away smoking a cigarette.

"What the hell is going on now?" I shouted.

"Make him shut up!" Xander exclaimed. "I swear, if he doesn't shut up, I'll...."

"Pipe down," I instructed. I turned to the vampire. "What started this?"

"Nothing," Spike said, trying his best to look innocent. "I don't know what got into him. I was just sitting here, right? Minding my own business. Then this git starts in again with the whole 'this is all your fault' rubbish. I wasn't much in a mood to listen to him, so I let my mind wander. I started singing a little tune to myself...."

"Spike!" Xander shouted. "Don't you dare!"

"Just started crooning the first song that popped into my head," Spike continued, obviously trying not to smile.

"I'll kill you, Spike!" Xander screamed.

Spike took a deep breath (since vampires don't breath, it was obviously for dramatic effect), and then sang:

"YOU'RE HAVIN' MY BABY!"

Maybe we should have tried to recruit the kid. Xander actually managed to escape the two-armed hold Marks had him in, and get his hands around Spike's neck.

"Spike!" Xander yelled as I tried to pull him away from the vampire. "I'll wring your neck, you...."

"What...a beautiful...ack...way," Spike gasped, in as close to a tune as he could make with Xander's hands squeezing his throat, "to say...agh...how much...ugh...you love meeeeeeeeeee!"

I finally managed to pry Xander off of Spike, and I stood between the two of them.

"That's enough," I said.

"Not my fault the poof can't take a joke," Spike said.

"Oh, I'm a poof, am I?" Xander shot back. "I'm not the one who wound up making a donation to the Initiative bodily fluid bank."

"Shut up," Spike said. The jovial tone was gone from his voice.

"Hey, Graham," Xander continued. "You remember those technicians you talked about? The one's that gathered the samples? I don't remember there being a whole lot of WOMEN working for the Initiative, so...."

"I said shut it!" Spike roared.

"You know," Xander said, rubbing his chin in a mock-musing fashion, "I wonder if he was completely unconscious. I mean, he DOES paint his fingernails."

Spike lunged at Xander. This was getting old. Xander gasped in surprise. Spike cringed and retreated as the chip sent pain through his cranium.

"Listen, you," Spike said to Xander. "You tell anyone about this, and, chip be damned, I'll break your bloody neck!"

"You tell anyone about this and I'll shove a whole damn tree in your chest!" Xander shouted back.

"If either one of you tell anyone about this I'll have you both declared security risks and I'll assassinate you myself!" I yelled.

That got their attention.

"Saunders," I said, "get the kid on the operating table. Spike, get the hell out of here. We're done with you."

"Fine," Spike said, ascending the stairs. He paused for a moment, apparently thinking of making a parting wise crack at Xander. He caught the look in my eyes, thought better of it, and left.

It took a few minutes to get Xander into a operating gown and reclined on the operating table. Dr. Saunders was holding an anesthesia mask, ready to put it over Xander's face, when Xander said:

"Graham?"

"Yeah, what?" I said, tying a surgical mask over my face.

"Um...if it's a girl, could you name it Faith? And if it's a boy, maybe name it Jesse? Of course, if it's evil, you can name it whatever. I mean, I guess Spike would be the one to ask...wait a minute. Why should I care if...?"

"Xander," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Suck gas."

"Oh, O.K.,"

Saunders placed the mask over Xander's face, and for the next thirty minutes, the basement was blissfully and uncharacteristically quiet.

6/3/00, 05:11 a.m., PST

Ellis showed up as Dr. Saunders was sewing up the incision in Xander's stomach. Marks was standing beside me as I watched. Ellis walked over, and I handed him a surgical mask.

"Status?" Ellis asked, as he tied the mask behind his head.

"On schedule, sir," I replied.

"Doctor?"

"We're just stitching up the incision now," Saunders said. "So far, there are no complications. We made scar just big enough to give the impression that a tissue mass was removed from the abdominal cavity."

"And now?"

"We implant those into the patient's scalp," Saunders said, gesturing to a mass of short brown threads on a surgical tray.

"Hmmm," Ellis said, picking up one of the strands. "I heard these fiber optic cameras were the size of a human hair, but I didn't realize they actually were this small."

"Not only the same size," Saunders said. "But also the same texture and color. Specifically, the same color as the subject's hair. I'll implant about forty of them at various points on his head. We'll be able to get multiple images, depending on the vantage point we want to observe."

"How long will they hold up?" Ellis asked. "I mean, what about when the kid gets a haircut?"

"There are multiple segmented lenses along the strands," Saunders explained. "Cutting will have no effect on them."

"And the audio?"

"We'll implant an audio chip directly onto the eardrum," Saunders said. "We'll hear what he hears. Literally."

"We can bounce the signal off the satellite we're leasing from The Weather Channel," I added. "Anything world-threatening happens on the Hellmouth, and we've got live audio and video, and get a team here in twelve hours."

"Assuming no one finds out about the implants," Ellis said. "Now, Miller, I'm only going to ask this once, and you'd better convince me the first time. Are you SURE that the subject actually believes we impregnated him with a vampire's baby?"

Rather than argue the point, I went over to one of the computer terminals by the operating table, punched up the surveillance footage, and stood back so Ellis could get a good view of the action. It was all there. The fighting. The vampire's little karaoke act. The mutual threats of death. Everything.

"They bought every word," I said. "And neither one of them will talk."

Ellis scowled. "And you're telling me that these are two of the civilians that keep Sunnydale safe from Armageddon, while we got run out of town?"

"They're not exactly the brains of the team, sir."

"I'd hope not," Ellis replied. "Doctor, what are the chances that the implants will take."

"We'll give the kid a prescription for a month's worth of antibiotics to prevent secondary infection," Saunders said. "And we'll give him a number to call if he experiences any side effects. If there's an infection, or if his body rejects the implants, we'll be able to respond."

"Let's say we couldn't do that," Ellis said. "Let's say, hypothetically, if we'd just grabbed him, put in the implants, and dumped him. What then?"

"Well, it's impossible to know for certain," Saunders said.

"Approximate," Ellis commanded.

"We would have injected him with the strongest antibiotics we had," Saunders explained. "But without a regimen of antibiotics over the next four weeks, I'd say he would have stood a one in three chance of secondary infection. If he went to a doctor, they might have been able to treat it. Of course, if he assumed it was just a flu or something, well...it would have been more...problematic. And, of course, if his body rejected the implants, a civilian doctor would have had no idea how to...."

"Did you disclose these possibilities to anyone prior to this operation?" Ellis asked.

"Well...it was in my report."

"And you sent that report to...?"

"Well, Agent Miller received a copy. He requested an evaluation prior to...."

"Thank you, doctor," Ellis interrupted. "Miller, my office."

I followed Ellis upstairs to the office. He sat behind the desk as I stood before him.

"Miller," Ellis barked. "This was not the mission I authorized. Explain."

"You heard the doc, major," I said. "One in three chance of secondary infection. The way I see it, my plan increased the success probability of this mission by thirty percent."

"And you expect me to believe that your decisions in this matter were purely based on that factor?"

"No, sir," I replied. "My decisions were further motivated...actually, sir, they were almost exclusively motivated by my concern for the safety of the subject."

"Commendable," Ellis said. "If we were in the Peace Corps. We're not. This line of work isn't for men who can't handle tough calls."

"Agreed, sir," I said. "It isn't. Professor Walsh couldn't handle tough calls. I can. My way. I'm one of only a few living men on the payroll who actually has Sub-T combat time. I'm an asset. I want to be an asset. But I'm not a murderer."

Ellis took a moment to consider that.

"Fine," Ellis said. "But from now on, consider yourself on a short leash, Miller."

"Does that mean I'm back in? For keeps?"

"Until you screw up, yes," Ellis said. "And Miller, you won't get more than one screw up. Think about that the next time you put together one of these elaborate schemes. There are a few idealists over at the Pentagon that are actually rooting for you, Miller. But none of them are betting on you."

Ellis waited for me to answer. I didn't.

"You're dismissed, Miller," he finally said. I didn't have to be told twice.

I walked downstairs to watch the rest of the surgery. Ellis was right. It would take a lot more than one good mission to get me to a point where I could call the shots full time. But I'd get my chance.

END REPORT

9/29/00

I got back from a field mission in Oregon this morning. We'd spent about two days out there on a Search and Rescue op. A couple of fleshy tree demons had kidnaped a vacationing chapter of the Sierra Club (which even they had to admit was ironic). I came back with orders from Ellis to schedule a physical. Lately I've been strong. Too strong. Even the trees thought it was weird. Before we killed them, of course.

I was on the phone setting an appointment with the staff nurse when our office clerk handed me this file, with a memo from the Brass asking for an evaluation.

In summary, after the implants in Xander's scalp and eardrum started sending regular signals, the surveillance duties were transferred to our Remote Observation Division. Our Internal Affairs department caught wind of a rumored security leak a couple of weeks ago, and investigated. During a search of the footlocker issued to Pvt. Nicholas Banks, IA investigators discovered a plain brown paper bag, containing a VHS videocassette and a handwritten note reading: "Banks, you've GOT to see this! The chick's name is Anya. She fucks like a minx!"

Since the extent of the security leak is not know at this time, this agent concurs with the position of the IA department, and of security division. Specifically, I agree that the monitoring of transmissions from Xander Harris should cease, and all further surveillance on the Hellmouth should be executed through standard means (wiretapping, satellite photos, etc.). Means which, I'd point out, are what I recommended from the beginning.

Sunnydale. No two ways around it, the town's just bad luck.

END ADDENDUM

END REPORT

NARRATIVE REPORT
TO BE COMPLETED BY FIELD AGENTS NO MORE THAN THIRTY (30) DAYS AFTER INITIAL DEBRIEFING
TOP SECRET, CLASSIFICATION A-4
NO UNAUTHORIZED DISTRIBUTION

AGENT'S NAME: Miller, Graham
AGENT'S DESIGNATION: Agent
AGENT'S CURRENT STATION: Patrick A.F.B.
DATE: 10/14/00
ASSIGNMENT CLEARANCE NO.: D3H28119

AGENTS ARE REMINDED THAT NO FACTS, CONVERSATIONS, OR OTHER INFORMATION, WHETHER CONSIDERED BY THE AGENT TO BE MATERIAL OR IMMATERIAL, SHALL BE OMITTED FROM THIS REPORT.

October 9, 2000

I was resting at the hospital just after the operation, sipping apple juice, watching Judge Judy, and working on the newspaper crossword. At that point Colonel Lynette entered my room. I was about to get up, when he said:

"No need to come to attention, son. Not after what you've been through. As you were."

I reclined back in the bed, but I put down the apple juice. It's difficult to look like an elite government operative in front of your superior officer when you're sipping on a bendy straw.

"You look good, son," the Colonel continued. "The doctors here fix you up alright?"

"Yes, sir."

"Surgery can be rough. Do you still have any pain?"

"A little, sir."

"That's to be expected. Think you'll be up and around any time soon?"

"Anytime ordered, sir."

Colonel Lynette smiled, and said:

"You don't talk much, do you, son?"

"No, sir."

"Good. That's an asset in this line of work." At this point Colonel Lynette sat at the edge of my bed. "Son, I hope you know that everyone deeply regrets what you've had to go through. If we'd know that Professor Walsh was experimenting with drugs on the agents, we would have certainly...well, we would not have tolerated it."

"No harm, no foul, sir," I said. "The doctors fixed me up. I'm ready for my next assignment whenever ordered."

Actually, I was itching for my next assignment, and hoping that there would be one. With the Initiative project shut down, for all I knew I'd end up peeling potatoes on an aircraft carrier. I wasn't ready to live a mundane life. Not yet.

"Well, I have your next assignment, Miller," the Colonel said, handing me a manila folder. "You see, there were quite a few agents who chose to return to the private sector after the Initiative project was...well, determined to be an...incomplete success. We've been able to contact almost all of them and get them into surgery. Unfortunately, some of them have been difficult to locate. As you know, it is imperative that effects of the...treatments...performed by Dr. Walsh be addressed expeditiously. These boys could die if they don't get into surgery quickly."

"I understand, sir," I said, flipping through the folder. "Agent Mason. I remember him. He came from Kansas. He used to swap farm stories with Agent Finn."

The Colonel smiled. "I deeply regret that you had to go through that, too, son."

"You and me both, sir. I figured Mason would have gone home." "He didn't. We don't know where he went. We've got the FBI checking...unofficially, of course...for any traces of him. The report should be here in a few hours. You were selected to make contact with Agent...I mean, Mr. Mason, since you knew him. He probably doesn't understand the physical side effects of the treatments. He may also be somewhat reluctant to trust us. You are expected to reestablish contact with him, and persuade him, by any necessary means, to have the operation. A medical team can be at any hospital facility you designate within an hour of receiving word from you."

"I understand, sir."

"Also," the Colonel said, "you will be given a medical kit to take into the field with you."

"Sir," I said, "I really don't have any medical training, other than basic first aid. What good would that be?"

"It's not for treatment," the Colonel said. "Agent, we sincerely regret what happened to you boys. And we truly wish to fix the problem so that you can all be healthy and go on to do...well, whatever it is you want to do. But there is also a security issue that needs to be addressed. The chemicals Dr. Walsh used are rather...unique. It would be very embarrassing if some local coroner became suspicious, should he perform an autopsy on a twenty two year old boy who for some reason died of a heart attack, and discover that it was not a natural occurrence. It is imperative that nothing regarding the Initiative's operations becomes known by unauthorized persons."

At this point, the Colonel pulled a small leather case out of his jacket pocket. He unzipped it, and pulled out a hypodermic needle.

"This," Colonel Lynette said, gesturing with the needle, "is a compound of amphetamines. If injected into the body of a person, after death, the toxicology report on that person will show the presence of several narcotic drugs that would seem to have been in the system a long time. It will also mask the presence of the hormones and steroids used by Dr. Walsh. The death will apparently be from a drug overdose. I'm sure you can see why this is preferable to allowing a possible security breach, should you locate Agent Mason and he cannot have the surgery in time."

"I understand, sir," I said. I kept flipping through the papers. Included was a list of the agents who hadn't reported for surgery. All of them. One name jumped out at me. "Sir, I notice that Agent Finn also hasn't been treated. Perhaps...." "Mr. Finn will be contacted by another agent," Colonel Lynette said. "His location has been determined. He hasn't left Sunnydale. It just seems that he's been busy over the summer, and hasn't had the chance to respond to our letters or return our phone calls. I hear he has a girlfriend who keeps him busy. In any event, your assignment is Agent Mason."

"Yes, sir."

I exchanged a few pleasantries with the Colonel, and he left me to study the file on Agent Mason.

October 10, 2000

My flight landed in Los Angeles at around ten in the morning. They were sending us on commercial flights, in order to keep a low profile. However, I was told that a medical team would be flown in by military jet upon my request, and could be at any location I designated within an hour.

Once I checked into the motel, I unlocked my briefcase, and looked through the skip-trace report that had come from the Bureau. Mason had been paying for a motel room in L.A. with a credit card, every week for the past month. He was paying his credit card bill with money orders, all purchased in L.A.. I was staying at the same motel. A little seedy, but I'd stayed in worse.

I locked the briefcase, slid it under the bed, and attached it to the bedframe with a pair of handcuffs. Not the most secure way of storing classified documents, but this mission was a little too basic to start setting up trip wires. I left the room, walked down the hallway, and knocked on Mason's door.

Mason opened the door. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a white t-shirt, and he looked as though he hadn't shaved since basic training. He said:

"Hey, Graham! Long time! I didn't expect to see you again. How ya doing?"

"Fine."

"I haven't seen you since we left Sunnydale," he said. "Where ya been keeping yourself?"

"Around."

"Still monopolizing every conversation, I see," Mason said. "Come on in."

I entered the room. The bed wasn't made, and a couple of empty pizza boxes were on top of the dresser. Mason had turned into a civilian one hundred percent.

"If I'd known one of my old superiors was going to be stopping by," Mason said, "I would have made hospital corners. So what you been up to since we all got fired?"

"I didn't," I said. "I'm still in. We need to talk."

"O.K., talk."

"Those drugs Walsh gave us. They don't work their way out of our system. The effects are permanent, and progressive."

"You kidding? You mean those meds are still swimming around in our blood?"

"Yes," I said. "Have you had any chest pains?"

"Well...a little," Mason said, putting his right hand to his heart and rubbing his chest. "I thought it was just too much fast food. I can't afford much else. That decommission bonus the government gave us didn't last long."

"It's not pepperoni. It's your heart. If you're like the rest of us, your heart rate is probably about 130 beats per minute, and that's when you're relatively inactive. Push it and it'll shoot up to 160. It'll kill you, if you don't get an operation."

"Operation?"

"We've got a team standing by," I explained. "We can have it done this afternoon. You'll be at a hundred percent in about two days. It's simple, but it's got to be done."

"Uh, what do I have to...?"

"Nothing. No strings. You're out. You can stay out. We just don't want you to die."

"Uh, O.K., when do we go?"

"Right now. We should be in time, but it's got to get done right away."

I stood up, got my cell phone out of my pocket, and as I walked toward the door, I pressed the speed dial number for the medical team, and said:

"Code Green. Set up the operation for...."

At that point, I felt really dizzy. In the first second I thought that I was having some after effects from the surgery. In the next second I noticed that the pain came from the back of my head, not my heart. By the third second, I was on the floor, out cold.

October 11, 2000

Whatever Mason hit me with must have been pretty heavy, because I felt like I'd been out forever. I checked my watch. It was 3 a.m.

I looked around, I wasn't in the motel anymore. It looked like an office. Then I saw her.

Well, I really didn't see her, or much of anything else. Everything was still blurry. But through the blur, I saw her eyes. I couldn't make out any colors, but there was something about those eyes. They seemed warm, but penetrating, and just a little unsettling. I'd only seen eyes like that on one other woman. I called out:

"Professor Walsh?"

"No," a voice behind the eyes said. I closed my eyes and shook my head back and forth. When I opened my eyes, the world had regained its focus. I saw the face behind the eyes, and the body attached to the face.

She was beautiful. Classically beautiful. At any time, in any place, she would have been considered beautiful. Dark hair. Nice figure. And those eyes....

"I'm Lilah," she said. "Your friend Mason brought you here. He thought we should talk."

"Sorry about the conk on the head, pal," I heard Mason's voice say. I looked to my right. Mason was sitting on a couch.

"I'm sorry, too," I said. Then I turned to the woman. "Who are you?"

"A friend," Lilah said. "At least, I want to be your friend. I'm a lawyer. I work for a law firm, Wolfram & Hart. My firm specializes in finding special people, and protecting them. Helping them find uses for their gifts. I'm told you're quite gifted."

"Thanks."

"We've been helping your friend. We want to help you. Your experiences are certainly unique. No one would believe half of what you've been through. But we believe you. We understand."

"O.K."

Lilah turned to Mason, and said:

"You're right. He's a real chatterbox."

"Told ya," Mason responded.

Lilah turned back toward me. "You see, we know that you've had drugs given to you. You were used. Hurt. It's not fair that you were used that way. You deserve to take advantage of the problems that have been forced on you, and make the best of them."

"I see," I said. "How?"

"Mr. Mason has been kind enough to allow us to take blood samples. We've learned a lot about what was done to him. We have clients who find that information very useful. They're hoping that they can develop medicines from what they've learned. Maybe a cure for muscular dystrophy, arthritis, diabetes, and a lot of other problems. You could help a lot of people if you cooperate with us."

I started sitting up off the floor, and tried to discretely check my pockets. Nothing. Then I looked at the corner of the desk on the other side of the room. Everything I carried was sitting there, along with my briefcase. Fortunately, it looked as though they hadn't broken the lock.

"Look," I said, "I have a job."

"Oh, yes," Lilah said, "the government. The same government that used you as a human guinea pig. Don't you feel that your loyalty to them is somewhat...misplaced?"

"You've used Mason as a lab rat," I responded. "Is that any better?"

"It's not like that," Mason said. "We don't owe the government anything, after what they did to us. Anyway, these lawyers, they're good people. They just took blood once. Then they pay you great money, and all you have to do is...."

"Mr. Mason, please," Lilah said. She was visibly irritated. Mason was sharing too much, too fast.

"Now I get it," I said. "First you get some of our blood, to see if you can make more of those super steroids. Then we go on the payroll. What kind of jobs do you give people with super strength? Nothing legal, I'd bet."

I turned to Mason, and said:

"Look, if they know what these drugs do, then they know that they're lethal. You're dying. If you don't get help, you'll die, and these guys don't care. They're using you until you drop dead."

Mason stared at me, then his head dropped.

"I see you're not quite as receptive to our offer as I'd hoped," Lilah said. "Unfortunately, it was a one time offer." She glanced up over my shoulder. I looked behind my back. Two guards in rent-a-cop uniforms were standing behind me.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask these gentlemen to show you out," Lilah said.

"Out of the building," I asked, "or out of this world?"

Lilah smiled. "I'm sorry we couldn't make an arrangement."

The two guards picked me up by the shoulders.

I didn't see Mason coming. Fortunately, the guards didn't either. Mason punched one of the guards across the jaw. He went flying. Apparently the strength Mason got from Walsh's drugs was still kicking. I elbowed the other guard in the stomach, and tossed him across my shoulder. I didn't have super strength, but my commando training still comes in handy.

Lilah made a dash for the phone. I jumped toward her, and pushed her to the ground. I looked on the desk and picked up the leather pouch Colonel Lynette had given me. I opened it. There were three hypodermics. I got one. Mason was pummeling one of the guards. The other had gotten to his feet, and was rushing toward me. He took a swing at me, which I dodged pretty easily. I shoved the needle of the hypodermic into his hand, and pushed the plunger.

The guard immediately started to shake. The equivalent of a three month speed habit rushed through his body in about three seconds. When he stopped shaking, he dropped to the ground, quite dead.

I grabbed Lilah's arm, yanked her up from the ground, and got her in a bear hug from behind with one arm. With my free hand, I grabbed another needle and held it to her neck.

"Alright," I shouted, "that's enough!"

Mason and the guard turned to look at me. Lilah shook in my arms.

"Now," I said, "if you don't want your boss here to become a senior partner in Hell, I'd let us go."

The guard took a step back. Mason ran toward my side.

"Grab my stuff," I told him. He gathered my things off the desk, and put them in his pockets. He also got my briefcase.

"Now we're leaving," I said. I pushed Lilah across the room and out the door, with Mason close behind. The three of us got in the elevator. I was still holding the needle to her neck.

When the elevator reached the ground floor, the three of us exited. We walked out toward the lobby. There were about a half dozen guards waiting there, but they didn't want to be the reason Lilah wound up dead any more than the first guard.

We walked toward the exit. I was using Lilah as a shield between us and the guards. When we got to the door, I said in Lilah's ear:

"Nice meeting you."

I pushed her toward the center of the lobby, and Mason and I ran out into the streets. Shots rang out over our heads, but we were too far away by the time the guards reacted for any of the rounds to connect.

Mason and I ran about ten more blocks, zipping in and out of alleys before we stopped. We were both panting out of exertion and excitement.

"That...was," Mason said between breaths, "that was...just...like...the old days."

"Yeah," I said. "Without the fangs."

"I...guess...I handled...this...pretty bad...."

"Don't worry," I said. "We'll get you fixed up, and the government will be too embarrassed to...hey, are you...?"

Mason was leaning over, his hands on his knees. He was breathing very heavy. Then, he stopped breathing heavy, and fell over. Then he stopped breathing altogether.

I ran to Mason's side and knelt next to him. I checked his pulse. Nothing.

I swallowed hard. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Then I reached in his jacket, got all of my stuff out of his pockets, and picked up my briefcase. I looked down at my hand. I still held the hypodermic that I had held to Lilah's neck. I stuck the needle in Mason's arm, and filled him with the speed. Then I walked back toward a main road to find a taxi. I didn't know if the Wolfram & Hart goons were still chasing me, and quite frankly at that moment I didn't care. As it turned out, I'd lost them, and I caught a cab to the airport.

October 14, 2000

I was working on my final report back at the office I had been given, when the mail clerk dropped a bundle of correspondence in my In Box. Mostly memos and other garbage, but on top was a article from a Kansas newspaper that the Research Department had clipped and routed to me. It was Mason's obituary.

It was all there in the newspaper, exactly as the government had wanted. Cause of death: drug overdose, possibly brought on by a dishonorable discharge from the Marines under undisclosed circumstances. He was survived by his mother and two sisters.

I rubbed my temples with my fingers. Mason had gone bad, but a lot of people would have, and he had come through in the end. Plus, he never asked to be a lab rat with a time bomb in his chest. He didn't get into the Initiative to become a criminal. He'd wanted to serve his country. And now his family thought that he'd died a junkie in the street.

I turned to my computer terminal. I used my access code to pull up the names of all the agents who hadn't had the surgery yet. Only one name came up: Riley Finn.

I walked over to Colonel Lynette's office.

"Come in," Colonel Lynette said.

"Sir," I said, saluting and standing at attention.

"At ease," he said. "Good job with Mason. Not the result we wanted, but under the circumstances, you handled it perfectly. You've got a big future here, Miller."

"Sir," I said. "I request permission to be assigned to Agent Finn's case."

"Denied," the Colonel responded. "That's been assigned to another agent."

"And he still hasn't brought him in," I said. "Riley's obviously resisting. He'll listen to me."

"I'm sure he'll come around without your intervention, Agent Miller."

"Sir," I said, "You said I have a big future here. I don't have any future here if you don't let me go after Riley. I'll quit."

The Colonel scowled. "I don't respond well to threats, Agent Miller."

"I've stated my position, sir," I said. "Either under orders, or as a civilian, I'm going after Riley."

Colonel Lynette closed his eyes, opened them again, and said:

"Alright, go. I'll make the arrangements. I'll call in our agent and his backup, and you can go."

"Sir," I said. "I request that both agents remain in Sunnydale, and operate under my command."

"Why?"

"Agent Finn is getting that operation." I said. "I'll either persuade him, or force him. But he's getting that operation."

"Very well," Colonel Lynette said. "His file will be on your desk in an hour. Pack your gear."

"Sir," I said. I saluted, and when the Colonel had returned my salute, I went back to my desk.

As of the date of this report, this agent has closed his file on Agent Mason. Information regarding the possible illegal activities of Wolfram & Hart has been reported to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Upon receipt of Agent Finn's file, this Agent will proceed to Sunnydale and contact Agent Finn. And there's no way in Hell the Finn family is going to read about their son's overdose in the obits.

END REPORT

Prologue

"Wow! You should rent this place out for weddings!"

Cordelia walked around the front desk of the hotel lobby and stood before the young woman who had walked through the front doors.

"Anya?" Cordelia asked.

"Seriously," Anya continued. "This atrium is perfect for a ceremony! I..that is, the bride...could walk down the stairway to the wedding march. The band could be over by the elevators. That counter would be perfect for the gifts. It's a little small though, but I guess...hey, is that a garden outside!?"

"Anya," Cordelia repeated. "What are you...?"

"Oh, that would be perfect for an outdoor ceremony," Anya mused, gazing out the open rear doors, and then looking up at the vaulted ceilings. "And if it rains, you can move the ceremony inside, so you haven't wasted the rental fee, no matter what happens. Of course, you wouldn't necessarily charge that much. Especially if the bride and her betrothed happen to be fellow crusaders in the battle against evil and injustice and monsters that want to suck the world into Hell dimensions with no regard for the matrimonial plans of...."

"Anya!" Cordelia shouted.

Anya turned her attention to Cordelia.

"Hypothetically speaking, of course," Anya said.

"O.K.," Cordelia said. "First, hi. Second, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, yes," Anya said. "Sorry. I got caught up the absolutely wonderful layout of your...well, anyway, I'm here to retain your services."

"Anya," Cordelia asked, "you're not evil again, are you?"

"Of course not," Anya gasped. "Why would I go back to being evil?"

"It just happens to us," Cordelia replied. "A lot."

"Anya?"

Wesley walked out to the lobby, with Gunn close behind.

"Oh, hello," Anya called out. "You're that fired Watcher, right? I remember you from the Ascension. Although, you do look a little less stuffy."

"Looks can be deceiving," Gunn interjected.

"Ahem, yes," Wesley said. "Ah, Anya, is there something we can...?"

"Yes," Anya said. "I'm here to retain the services of Angel Investigations. Perhaps I should talk to...."

"He's not here," Wesley said. "He required a...sabbatical...after, well...."

"Oh, yes," Anya said. "Of course. Well, I suppose you people could handle this for me. At a reduced rate, of course."

"Of course," Cordelia said, rolling her eyes. "Look, Anya, if it's important...."

"Oh, it's nothing," Anya said. "I ordered an item for the Magic Box. That's my store. Well, it's Giles' store, for now. He says he's leaving. Yep, he just keeps saying it, and saying it, and I can hear him saying it, because he still keeps hanging around like a...."

"Anya," Cordelia interrupted. "We charge by the hour."

"Oh, well, then, it's a magic urn," Anya said. "It's Egyptian. It's being delivered by freighter, on a dock over at the L.A. pier tonight. I need someone to secure safe transport of the urn from the docks to my hotel, and then over to the train station."

"Is there anything...dangerous about this urn?" Wesley asked.

"Oh, no, no, no," Anya assured. "Nothing like that. Just an ordinary magic urn. Not really magic. More like...well...charmed. Yes, charmed. That's a much better word. Nothing dangerous or dark. Certainly nothing that challenges our very notions of...well, you get the idea. Just...charmed. But it was being shipped overseas, and the seller wouldn't send it Federal Express. It's pretty valuable, so we don't want to trust it to a messenger service."

"Yes," Wesley said. "I'm sure we can provide whatever assistance you require. Cordelia can take you to Angel's office and work out the details of our retainer. Gunn and I will prepare our weapons for an escort."

"Perfect," Anya said.

"It's back here," Cordelia said, shooting a sidelong glance at Wesley. Anya and Cordelia walked across the lobby and into Angel's office.

"Hmm," Gunn said, after Cordelia and Anya were out of earshot. "I think the lady doth protest too much."

"Yes," Wesley agreed. "I think it would be prudent if I contacted...doth?"

"What?" Gunn said. "You're gonna give me a complex if you get that look every time a brother quotes the Bard."

"You did that on purpose," Wesley muttered.

"Yeah," Gunn smirked.

"I'll contact Giles," Wesley said.

Part I.

"O.K., let me just find a blank retainer agreement," Cordelia said, shuffling through the papers on the desk. "Sorry about the mess. Wes has been using the office for research while Angel's out of town."

"Oh, I figured as much," Anya said. "I noticed the rare tomes, the yellowed parchments, the...um...is that a Harry Potter book?"

"Oh, yeah," Cordelia replied. "Wesley has this theory. Rowlings. Dark magic. Mass hypnosis. Bestseller list. It's been a slow summer."

"Must be nice," Anya said. "Things have been just crazy, what with the vampires and demons. We're trying to do everything that Buffy used to do."

"Must be tough," Cordelia said.

"Very," Anya admitted.

"Well, let's just get this started. Cash, I'd assume?"

"Oh, yes," Anya said. "Unless travelers checks would be more convenient?"

"Eh, we're easy," Cordelia said. "We're just happy to get paid at all."

Anya's eyes widened. "You mean, you...work...for...free?"

"Eh, if they're hopeless and broke," Cordelia said. "Or if it's a world saving sort of thing."

"It doesn't seem it would be very profitable."

"Oh, it's not. But, you know. Mission. Duty. The whole nine."

"I suppose," Anya said, even though she didn't suppose. "Cordelia, are you comfortable with this arrangement? Taking the case from me, I mean."

"Oh, don't worry," Cordelia said. "If I was picky about working for ex-demons who'd tried to kill me, well, do the math."

"Oh, it's not that," Anya said. "It's just that you used to be Xander's girlfriend, and I'm Xander's girlfriend now, and we have sex quite often, or at least he' thinks it's quite often, even though I'd prefer...."

"Anya," Cordelia interrupted. "First, please stop. Second, I'm fine with it. It's ancient history."

"Oh, good," Anya said. "I thought it would be. Xander told me that he never had sex with you."

"He was kind enough to tell a lot of other people, wasn't he? I mean, it's not like everybody would see that ad I took out in the Sunnydale Times."

"Xander said you were probably still mad at him," Anya said. "He said I shouldn't mention anything. Of course, he's always telling me I shouldn't talk about things that...."

"It's fine," Cordy repeated. "Look, I was mad at Xander. I mean, he did cheat on me with Willow, what with the kissing her and sneaking behind my back and humiliating me and I know I wasn't always easy to be around but I really tried and it wasn't easy for me to...."

Cordelia looked up at the blank look on Anya's face.

"Um, anyway," Cordy muttered. "I'm over that."

"You know," Anya said. "I was perfectly willing to deliver vengeance for you when I first came to Sunnydale."

"Eh, whatever," Cordelia shrugged. "It was more fun doing it on my own."

Anya frowned. "How did you do that?"

"Oh, it was easy," Cordy said. "I just took every opportunity to put him down, make him feel worthless, the usual."

"Oh," Anya said. "I once turned a man into a turkey."

"That's nothing," Cordy shot back. "When Xander was around, I flirted with Wesley."

"That Wesley?" Anya gasped, gesturing toward the lobby.

"Yep."

"Diabolical," Anya sighed.

"Well, I had a lot of practice," Cordelia said. "I was pretty good at tormenting people. I'd pretty much make life hell for anybody who broke my own code. You know, if they wore last year's shoes, or asked me on a date without their own car, or s