Xander heard voices in the library as he entered with Willow and Oz. Wesley was behind the counter, sorting through a stack of books on a cart while conversing with Cordelia, who had a book open on the other side of the counter and was giving it an occasional glance to balance the attention she was giving the pompous new Watcher-librarian.
Both of them seemed at ease, though. Cordy’s laugh was less fake than usual, and Wesley was barely stammering at all. They had been talking about something to do with language, which may or may not have started with an English assignment from Cordy’s book. “It’s true, I’m still getting acclimatized,” Wesley was saying. “In fact, I was informed yesterday that Americans don’t use the word ‘acclimatized,’ and that if they did they would spell it with a zed.”
“Really? What’s a zed?” Cordy asked, but before Wesley could reply, both of them noticed they were no longer alone. Cordy’s expression darkened at the sight of Xander, but he couldn’t make himself care enough to take offense.
Wesley didn’t look happy to see them either, although that was probably just because they had interrupted. “Hello, and how can I assist you three with your studies today?”
Xander exchanged glances with Willow and Oz. They hadn’t really come up with a game plan on the way over here, and he wasn’t sure if Oz wanted to reveal anything in front of Cordelia. “We’re not here for books,” Willow admitted. Behind her, Cordy muttered, “Color me shocked.”
Oz took over, courteously addressing Wesley, as unruffled as ever. “Hi, Mr…Wyndam? Wyndam-Pryce, right, got it. My name’s Daniel Osbourne. I had an arrangement with Giles and, well, with the him not being here I’m not sure what to do. It’s the kind of thing that needs a…specialist.”
“Ah,” said Wesley, and a few seconds went by while Xander wondered if the Watcher was confused, speechless, about to say the stupidest thing imaginable, or all of the above. Before anyone decided to break the silence, though, Wesley surprised everyone and repeated in a more decisive tone, “Ah! Osbourne. An arrangement. If you’ll excuse me for just a tic.”
“Don’t look at me,” said Cordy, and to be fair, all three of them were raising eyebrows at her. “I don’t know anything about this.”
Wesley returned from the office with a few pages and the envelope that had been holding them. He didn’t let anyone get a closer look, but it was clearly a handwritten letter, and he quickly found what he was seeking in its contents. “An inadvertent werewolf, correct? So you’ll need to be detained here for three nights over the full moon. Yes, that won’t be a problem.”
Willow’s voice sounded pained. “Giles wrote to you? What else did he say?”
“Wait.” Xander understood Willow’s hurt -- a letter from Giles would have meant the world to her, not to mention Buffy -- but they had come here to fight for Oz’s safety and he couldn’t let anyone brush it off just yet. “Are you seriously saying the Watchers’ Council isn’t going to stick their noses into this? No sneaky experiments while he’s helpless? No shipping him off to England for his own good which actually has nothing to do with his own good?”
Oz showed no more of a reaction than he had to Wesley’s initial statement, but Willow gave a little chirp of dismay, and Cordy narrowed her eyes. “Wesley’s not some evil secret government agent, Xander.”
Wesley cleared his throat. “No, I certainly am not. However, I understand your concerns, so any of you are welcome to supervise your friend while he undergoes his transformation. So long as you don’t interfere with Watchers’ Council matters, of course.”
Was it really going to be that easy? Xander tried to justify the suspicion he still felt, but if Giles had entrusted this secret to Wesley…
“I don’t really have a choice,” said Oz. He glanced at Xander and gave a longer look to Willow. “You guys do, but if you volunteer I wouldn’t mind a set of eyes on me.”
They answered at the same time, but Xander was surprised to hear Cordy, too, adding her own voice to the assurances that he wouldn’t be alone. Oz’s inscrutable face gave way to a grateful half-smile.
“Well then, that’s settled,” Wesley declared. He made a show of refolding the letter and putting it neatly back into its envelope. “Now. Buffy hasn’t yet reported to me today. Would any of you have some notion of where she might be?”
Both of them seemed at ease, though. Cordy’s laugh was less fake than usual, and Wesley was barely stammering at all. They had been talking about something to do with language, which may or may not have started with an English assignment from Cordy’s book. “It’s true, I’m still getting acclimatized,” Wesley was saying. “In fact, I was informed yesterday that Americans don’t use the word ‘acclimatized,’ and that if they did they would spell it with a zed.”
“Really? What’s a zed?” Cordy asked, but before Wesley could reply, both of them noticed they were no longer alone. Cordy’s expression darkened at the sight of Xander, but he couldn’t make himself care enough to take offense.
Wesley didn’t look happy to see them either, although that was probably just because they had interrupted. “Hello, and how can I assist you three with your studies today?”
Xander exchanged glances with Willow and Oz. They hadn’t really come up with a game plan on the way over here, and he wasn’t sure if Oz wanted to reveal anything in front of Cordelia. “We’re not here for books,” Willow admitted. Behind her, Cordy muttered, “Color me shocked.”
Oz took over, courteously addressing Wesley, as unruffled as ever. “Hi, Mr…Wyndam? Wyndam-Pryce, right, got it. My name’s Daniel Osbourne. I had an arrangement with Giles and, well, with the him not being here I’m not sure what to do. It’s the kind of thing that needs a…specialist.”
“Ah,” said Wesley, and a few seconds went by while Xander wondered if the Watcher was confused, speechless, about to say the stupidest thing imaginable, or all of the above. Before anyone decided to break the silence, though, Wesley surprised everyone and repeated in a more decisive tone, “Ah! Osbourne. An arrangement. If you’ll excuse me for just a tic.”
“Don’t look at me,” said Cordy, and to be fair, all three of them were raising eyebrows at her. “I don’t know anything about this.”
Wesley returned from the office with a few pages and the envelope that had been holding them. He didn’t let anyone get a closer look, but it was clearly a handwritten letter, and he quickly found what he was seeking in its contents. “An inadvertent werewolf, correct? So you’ll need to be detained here for three nights over the full moon. Yes, that won’t be a problem.”
Willow’s voice sounded pained. “Giles wrote to you? What else did he say?”
“Wait.” Xander understood Willow’s hurt -- a letter from Giles would have meant the world to her, not to mention Buffy -- but they had come here to fight for Oz’s safety and he couldn’t let anyone brush it off just yet. “Are you seriously saying the Watchers’ Council isn’t going to stick their noses into this? No sneaky experiments while he’s helpless? No shipping him off to England for his own good which actually has nothing to do with his own good?”
Oz showed no more of a reaction than he had to Wesley’s initial statement, but Willow gave a little chirp of dismay, and Cordy narrowed her eyes. “Wesley’s not some evil secret government agent, Xander.”
Wesley cleared his throat. “No, I certainly am not. However, I understand your concerns, so any of you are welcome to supervise your friend while he undergoes his transformation. So long as you don’t interfere with Watchers’ Council matters, of course.”
Was it really going to be that easy? Xander tried to justify the suspicion he still felt, but if Giles had entrusted this secret to Wesley…
“I don’t really have a choice,” said Oz. He glanced at Xander and gave a longer look to Willow. “You guys do, but if you volunteer I wouldn’t mind a set of eyes on me.”
They answered at the same time, but Xander was surprised to hear Cordy, too, adding her own voice to the assurances that he wouldn’t be alone. Oz’s inscrutable face gave way to a grateful half-smile.
“Well then, that’s settled,” Wesley declared. He made a show of refolding the letter and putting it neatly back into its envelope. “Now. Buffy hasn’t yet reported to me today. Would any of you have some notion of where she might be?”
Willow went over to Buffy’s house as soon as the school day was done, and Joyce let her in and said that Buffy was awake in her room and would be glad to see her. Loaded up with Joyce’s usual donation of snacks, Willow made her way upstairs and found her friend sitting on the bed, dressed in pastel pajamas, holding an open magazine. Buffy’s eyes were still glassy and her posture slouched, but her mom had been right; she did seem happy to see Willow.
“I’ve never been so bored in my entire life,” she said, scooting over to one side. “Tell me everything that happened today.”
“Wesley’s super dumb,” Willow blurted out, and then had to backtrack to explain why she had even been talking to him. After describing the request from Oz and the conversation in the library, she returned to the topic of Wesley’s stupidity: “He really thinks he’s your Watcher, and he didn’t even know you were sick.”
Buffy gave an unhappy shrug, sipping at her bottle of juice. “Well, that one’s probably on Snyder. I know my mom called the school to tell them I’d be out. Maybe the library doesn’t get informed about absences.” She wrinkled her brow. “Or maybe I was supposed to tell him myself.”
“Oh.” That hadn’t occurred to Willow either. Giles had always heard everything directly from Buffy, or from one of the other Scoobies. But why should any of them bother to keep Wesley informed? She winced at the reminder of the other thing they had learned today. “So...Wesley got a letter from Giles, that’s how he knew about Oz already. He wouldn’t let us see it, though.”
“Really? Still taking care of business, I guess.” Buffy sighed, but with an amused detachment, until it turned into a wheezing cough. “It’s alright,” she continued when she had it under control. “I told him I could get by without him. It’s good he planned for Oz.” She raised sympathetic eyes to Willow’s. “How was it? Seeing Oz again?”
All at once Willow realized how much she had needed her best friend to ask her that question. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before easing into her response. “It was..a lot. We didn’t really get into any ‘us’ stuff, but I’m just glad he’ll talk to me.”
“You know it was never your fault, right?” Buffy laid a hand over hers. “And it wasn’t his fault either, not really. I mean, anyone would be wigged over the werewolf thing. Once we all get through the full moon next week, maybe he’ll see how life goes on and he’ll have a change of heart.”
Willow smiled. “You want to take a shift guarding the cage with me? Assuming I’m not in the cage myself?”
“Definitely. Assuming I’m not still down with the flu.” Buffy waved a handful of tissues as if to illustrate the point.
“You sound better today,” Willow noted.
“Yeah, I’m not as congested. Still kind of shivery and wobbly, though. I don’t think I can fight again yet, but maybe I should try to make it into school tomorrow…”
“Buff. You’re familiar with the concept of Saturdays, right?”
Buffy’s eyes widened. “Huh. That is the day that comes after today, isn’t it? Okay. Definitely not ready for thinking thoughts yet.”
There was a tap at the door, and Joyce stuck her head in. “Hi girls. I was just wondering if Willow wanted to stay for dinner?”
Willow glanced at the clock and was about to accept the invitation when Buffy spoke first. “She’s got to get home. Thanks, Mom.”
It took a minute of smalltalk before Joyce closed the door again; Willow played along in spite of her confusion. When she and Buffy were alone, she raised an eyebrow at her and said, “Whatever’s cooking down there smells pretty good, so I hope you’ve got a good reason for me missing out on it.”
“I do.” Buffy rubbed her nose with a crumpled tissue, her illness more apparent than it had been a few minutes ago. “Don’t walk alone after dark, Will. Not yet. Not around my house. Please.”
Full of frustration and heartache, Willow went to Xander’s so he could share it with her. She reached his front door as the last rays of daylight fell behind her.
“I’ve never been so bored in my entire life,” she said, scooting over to one side. “Tell me everything that happened today.”
“Wesley’s super dumb,” Willow blurted out, and then had to backtrack to explain why she had even been talking to him. After describing the request from Oz and the conversation in the library, she returned to the topic of Wesley’s stupidity: “He really thinks he’s your Watcher, and he didn’t even know you were sick.”
Buffy gave an unhappy shrug, sipping at her bottle of juice. “Well, that one’s probably on Snyder. I know my mom called the school to tell them I’d be out. Maybe the library doesn’t get informed about absences.” She wrinkled her brow. “Or maybe I was supposed to tell him myself.”
“Oh.” That hadn’t occurred to Willow either. Giles had always heard everything directly from Buffy, or from one of the other Scoobies. But why should any of them bother to keep Wesley informed? She winced at the reminder of the other thing they had learned today. “So...Wesley got a letter from Giles, that’s how he knew about Oz already. He wouldn’t let us see it, though.”
“Really? Still taking care of business, I guess.” Buffy sighed, but with an amused detachment, until it turned into a wheezing cough. “It’s alright,” she continued when she had it under control. “I told him I could get by without him. It’s good he planned for Oz.” She raised sympathetic eyes to Willow’s. “How was it? Seeing Oz again?”
All at once Willow realized how much she had needed her best friend to ask her that question. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before easing into her response. “It was..a lot. We didn’t really get into any ‘us’ stuff, but I’m just glad he’ll talk to me.”
“You know it was never your fault, right?” Buffy laid a hand over hers. “And it wasn’t his fault either, not really. I mean, anyone would be wigged over the werewolf thing. Once we all get through the full moon next week, maybe he’ll see how life goes on and he’ll have a change of heart.”
Willow smiled. “You want to take a shift guarding the cage with me? Assuming I’m not in the cage myself?”
“Definitely. Assuming I’m not still down with the flu.” Buffy waved a handful of tissues as if to illustrate the point.
“You sound better today,” Willow noted.
“Yeah, I’m not as congested. Still kind of shivery and wobbly, though. I don’t think I can fight again yet, but maybe I should try to make it into school tomorrow…”
“Buff. You’re familiar with the concept of Saturdays, right?”
Buffy’s eyes widened. “Huh. That is the day that comes after today, isn’t it? Okay. Definitely not ready for thinking thoughts yet.”
There was a tap at the door, and Joyce stuck her head in. “Hi girls. I was just wondering if Willow wanted to stay for dinner?”
Willow glanced at the clock and was about to accept the invitation when Buffy spoke first. “She’s got to get home. Thanks, Mom.”
It took a minute of smalltalk before Joyce closed the door again; Willow played along in spite of her confusion. When she and Buffy were alone, she raised an eyebrow at her and said, “Whatever’s cooking down there smells pretty good, so I hope you’ve got a good reason for me missing out on it.”
“I do.” Buffy rubbed her nose with a crumpled tissue, her illness more apparent than it had been a few minutes ago. “Don’t walk alone after dark, Will. Not yet. Not around my house. Please.”
Full of frustration and heartache, Willow went to Xander’s so he could share it with her. She reached his front door as the last rays of daylight fell behind her.
It was easy enough for Buffy to convince Mom that she was going to sleep early. She turned off her light and then waited, as she had so many times before, for nighttime’s silence to take over the house. Quietly she dressed in the kind of clothes she would wear for school, not slaying: a flower-patterned blouse, designer jeans, some basic jewelry. She left her hair loose and didn’t bother trying to cover up the damage the flu had done to her face. A stake got tucked into her belt, mostly because she felt naked without one.
After climbing down the tree and getting some distance from the house, she kept to a leisurely pace. Weariness swept over her in waves, and the air seemed far colder than it should be, but she had spent almost all day in her room and it was a relief to be outdoors. More than that, it felt good to be taking matters into her own hands.
It took about twenty minutes for Angel to find her. By then she was at St. Timothy’s cemetery, a place where she had plenty of memories featuring him in better times -- but then, that was true of every graveyard in Sunnydale. Once she had spotted him at the far end of the stone wall that began at the gate, she stopped to rest, letting him be the one to close the distance. From here, it wasn’t so hard to see him as the diffident warrior he used to be, or to relive the thrill she used to get every single time she watched him coming toward her.
As she had expected, he didn’t attack. He didn’t even move like he expected to be attacked, although he did take a few long suspicious looks into the darkness around Buffy. When he finally came face to face with her, he dug his hands into his pockets and all but snarled, “What the hell is this about?”
Buffy immediately knew that her advantage, probably the only one she had, was his curiosity. He wasn’t going to leave, or fight, until he knew why she had come out here alone. By now he could probably tell that she was sick, too. “We need to talk,” she replied evenly.
Angel scoffed. “Why should I--”
“Why shouldn’t you?” Buffy cut in. “There’s nobody here to hear us. If I was setting a trap you’d have noticed it by now. Unless evil made you stupider than you used to be.”
The dig at his pride worked; he folded his arms and gave his head a little jerk, motioning her to go on.
She took a deep breath. This was it. “I would do anything to protect my friends. You know that, so just tell me how to do it.”
“This isn’t about your friends, little girl.”
“Yes it is.” Buffy braced against the stone wall to hold herself up higher. “It is, because you can use them to make me suffer. But you have to go through me to get to the people I love, and I’m not Drusilla. I won’t stop fighting until you’re dead, or I am. And that’s why we’re at a standstill, isn’t it?”
Angel shifted on his feet, wearing such a deep scowl that he didn’t even need his vampface. The smug disdain he had flaunted since losing his soul was nowhere to be seen; he really was just angry. “Do you want to die?” he demanded. “To protect your friends?”
“That’s a deal you’ll break as soon as I’m gone, so no.”
Now they were speaking the same language; she didn’t have to point out that he didn’t want to kill her yet either. He rubbed his chin. “I guess I could focus on some unsuspecting nobodies instead of your inner circle.”
Buffy recoiled. “Everyone in this city is under the Slayer’s protection.”
“A guy’s gotta eat.” His voice was beginning to regain its sardonic humor, but at least she had led him into negotiations.
“You don’t have to kill, though.” She felt more confident even as the conversation became riskier at every step. “Don’t forget, Angel, I know vampires. I know you can get all the blood you need without ending a single human life.”
He was staring at her now. His intensity made it impossible for her to do anything but stare right back. Did she have him? Or vice versa? He flashed her a sudden smile. “And you’ll make it worth my while?”
“I don’t think there’s any doubt on that point.” Buffy wanted to laugh almost as much as she wanted to cry. “You wanted to hurt me, and I just threw away my last shred of dignity to come out here and talk to you like you’re still a person. I’m basically handing you a blank check.”
Angel took a step closer, and Buffy tried not to flinch as he brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek, but his satisfaction was evident. “I assume you won’t be telling anyone about this arrangement,” he said.
“Of course not.”
“Then you’d better make sure nobody sees you out here talking to me.”
Her hand automatically went to her stake before she pulled it back. “Nobody is out here.”
Angel grinned, and the grin got wider and sharper as his face transformed. His yellow eyes gleamed through the dark. “Still,” he said, “I think you better run home quick.”
“Why?” Buffy insisted, but before she could get another word out, he had lifted her off her feet and casually shoved her backward so she fell awkwardly on the other side of the wall.
She couldn’t help groaning as she stood up again. She raised her head and Angel was standing on the wall, towering over, full of malicious delight. He was going to make her run. While she was already weak and feverish.
Cursing the deal she had just made with the devil, Buffy ran.
After climbing down the tree and getting some distance from the house, she kept to a leisurely pace. Weariness swept over her in waves, and the air seemed far colder than it should be, but she had spent almost all day in her room and it was a relief to be outdoors. More than that, it felt good to be taking matters into her own hands.
It took about twenty minutes for Angel to find her. By then she was at St. Timothy’s cemetery, a place where she had plenty of memories featuring him in better times -- but then, that was true of every graveyard in Sunnydale. Once she had spotted him at the far end of the stone wall that began at the gate, she stopped to rest, letting him be the one to close the distance. From here, it wasn’t so hard to see him as the diffident warrior he used to be, or to relive the thrill she used to get every single time she watched him coming toward her.
As she had expected, he didn’t attack. He didn’t even move like he expected to be attacked, although he did take a few long suspicious looks into the darkness around Buffy. When he finally came face to face with her, he dug his hands into his pockets and all but snarled, “What the hell is this about?”
Buffy immediately knew that her advantage, probably the only one she had, was his curiosity. He wasn’t going to leave, or fight, until he knew why she had come out here alone. By now he could probably tell that she was sick, too. “We need to talk,” she replied evenly.
Angel scoffed. “Why should I--”
“Why shouldn’t you?” Buffy cut in. “There’s nobody here to hear us. If I was setting a trap you’d have noticed it by now. Unless evil made you stupider than you used to be.”
The dig at his pride worked; he folded his arms and gave his head a little jerk, motioning her to go on.
She took a deep breath. This was it. “I would do anything to protect my friends. You know that, so just tell me how to do it.”
“This isn’t about your friends, little girl.”
“Yes it is.” Buffy braced against the stone wall to hold herself up higher. “It is, because you can use them to make me suffer. But you have to go through me to get to the people I love, and I’m not Drusilla. I won’t stop fighting until you’re dead, or I am. And that’s why we’re at a standstill, isn’t it?”
Angel shifted on his feet, wearing such a deep scowl that he didn’t even need his vampface. The smug disdain he had flaunted since losing his soul was nowhere to be seen; he really was just angry. “Do you want to die?” he demanded. “To protect your friends?”
“That’s a deal you’ll break as soon as I’m gone, so no.”
Now they were speaking the same language; she didn’t have to point out that he didn’t want to kill her yet either. He rubbed his chin. “I guess I could focus on some unsuspecting nobodies instead of your inner circle.”
Buffy recoiled. “Everyone in this city is under the Slayer’s protection.”
“A guy’s gotta eat.” His voice was beginning to regain its sardonic humor, but at least she had led him into negotiations.
“You don’t have to kill, though.” She felt more confident even as the conversation became riskier at every step. “Don’t forget, Angel, I know vampires. I know you can get all the blood you need without ending a single human life.”
He was staring at her now. His intensity made it impossible for her to do anything but stare right back. Did she have him? Or vice versa? He flashed her a sudden smile. “And you’ll make it worth my while?”
“I don’t think there’s any doubt on that point.” Buffy wanted to laugh almost as much as she wanted to cry. “You wanted to hurt me, and I just threw away my last shred of dignity to come out here and talk to you like you’re still a person. I’m basically handing you a blank check.”
Angel took a step closer, and Buffy tried not to flinch as he brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek, but his satisfaction was evident. “I assume you won’t be telling anyone about this arrangement,” he said.
“Of course not.”
“Then you’d better make sure nobody sees you out here talking to me.”
Her hand automatically went to her stake before she pulled it back. “Nobody is out here.”
Angel grinned, and the grin got wider and sharper as his face transformed. His yellow eyes gleamed through the dark. “Still,” he said, “I think you better run home quick.”
“Why?” Buffy insisted, but before she could get another word out, he had lifted her off her feet and casually shoved her backward so she fell awkwardly on the other side of the wall.
She couldn’t help groaning as she stood up again. She raised her head and Angel was standing on the wall, towering over, full of malicious delight. He was going to make her run. While she was already weak and feverish.
Cursing the deal she had just made with the devil, Buffy ran.
Only a few days later, while she was recovering in the hospital, could Buffy piece together what had happened that night. It seemed Angel had chased her until she passed out, but he had somehow timed it so that Willow and Xander were nearby - looking for her, even though they should have believed she was asleep at home - and they had been quick to come to her aid.
Buffy hated hospitals, but after her first night there she discovered that a monster had been feeding on the inpatient children, which gave her an opportunity to save a few lives by taking it out and even delivered some long-overdue closure about Celia.
Since everyone thought that Buffy had simply gone out patrolling when she shouldn’t have, all she had to do was apologize and admit once and for all that they were right. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. They were just glad she was alive, and next time she went out, she would be back to her full strength. Nothing would keep her from her next meeting with Angel.
Buffy hated hospitals, but after her first night there she discovered that a monster had been feeding on the inpatient children, which gave her an opportunity to save a few lives by taking it out and even delivered some long-overdue closure about Celia.
Since everyone thought that Buffy had simply gone out patrolling when she shouldn’t have, all she had to do was apologize and admit once and for all that they were right. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. They were just glad she was alive, and next time she went out, she would be back to her full strength. Nothing would keep her from her next meeting with Angel.
