"What are you doing here?" Buffy kept her eyes still, on his. Infuriated and nausous at the same time.

"Long story." It seemed as if he wanted to move on to something else. As if he didn't have time to explain his being there like the rest of them had. And yet he simply left it at that. Continuing to look at her. He was no longer bewildered and uncomfortable looking with her presense being so close. It seemed as if he was expecting it and that he didn't care. Or at least acted so.

"I'm listening." She remained rigid. It was bad enough that she and Angel were on edgy terms that she now had to deal with the fact that he was going over the edge himself.

Seeing that she wouldn't let down or remained pissed off throughout the entire stay and event if she didn't hear his reasons for being there at the same time as everyone else. People that he chose to brush off and force them aside, Angel told his story. Only the part with Whistler involved. He didn't want to go any deeper. He saw no point in it.

Buffy did.

"So," Buffy began to pace, slowly, across the small twelve foot space between two trees in line with where she stood a second ago. "What? What does this have to do with us? All of us? Willow, Giles, Anya..." It was then that Buffy noticed a pair of headlights peek through the woods from with the dirt road lay a forth of a mile away from where they stood.

Leaving Angel where he stood, Buffy dodged him expertly, not wanting to touch him at the moment, less than when she did when she didn't know of his hidious act with Darla and Drusilla, and took her trail back to the campsite.

"I didn't know I was coming either." Oz's voice slid into her ears as she came near the opening of their site. With eyes as wide as a deer caught in headlights she quickly stumbled out from the brush and stood, stunned, looking at Oz and his van, parked near the others', talking to the, now, large group of people swarmed around him.

Casually of course he explained, "I actually..." Looking confused, he turned his head and twisted his body a bit to look at the blackened dirt road and returned to their hungry for answers eyes. "Got lost. I was trying to get to LA from here without getting caught in the heavy traffic, what with the turned ARCO truck in my plan A freeway."

Whistler, who was on the outskirts of the commotion spoke everyone else's whispers and gawks of coincidence. ""You were brought here. The Powers That Be." With that explained, chewing on the inside of his cheek in substitute for not finding any liquer.

"Brought?" Buffy, who was a few feet behind him now, inquired.

"Yes. Brought." He turned to her and then back to address everyone else. "All of you were." Noticing the look on Buffy's face he decided that it was near time. But not yet. He told himself. Just a few more minutes. "I'll explain in a few minutes." He was now a bit edgy. He didn't like big audiences. And by that he didn't like a crowd. Again, by that, he was thinking of the saying that tree was a crowd.

"Explain now." Buffy tood toe to toe with him, their levels showing only slight differences since he was just a few inches taller.

"I can't. Not yet. We're still waiting." Although he liked her spunk and independence over situations he didn't take kindly to being put on the spot and not trusted. Not even for a mere few minutes.

"Waiting. Waiting for what? Pigs to fly? Why not now? Tell us now." Buffy stepped away from him and stood in front of the group, taking stand as leader. Buffy watched Angel slither up behind Whistler and keep his distance, purposefully, about eight feet behind him. Obviously knowing more than was fair compared to the rest. "We're all here and waiting." She crossed her arms defiantly, staring him down.

"No. You're not."

"What do you mean...." Her words trailed off as she looked pass Angel, between him and the fire, where she witnessed two figures emerge from what seemed to be non existant shadows. Buffy wondered if they were already there. This thought was before they stepped into the moonlight and flashlights'.

"Oh, dear Lord." Giles took off his glasses, gaping, and took a better look at the female that wore a black, calf length skirt and dark gray sweater. Her hair was dark brown and to her shoulders, her eyes were just as dark. She was thin, and tall. Almost as tall as he. She was beautiful. And she was familiar.

And she was dead.

To Be Continued

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