Part 2

"Hello? Angel?" Meara called, knocking and pulled the curtain opening. Angel stepped out of the shadows into the firelight to greet her. She stopped short, her blue eyes taking him in. She was wearing a long but rather slinky dress with a slit up the side in dark blue and a leather jacket over it.

"Hey," Angel said. He grabbed his own coat. "Let’s go." She smiled and waited for him to join her. Together they walked out into the dark night. "So what did you want to ask me exactly?"

"Oh . . . could we wait until I have my notepad actually? The rest of my sisterhood will massacre me if I don’t take notes," Meara said, casting a sideways smile at him.

"Oh, sure," he agreed. There was a moment of silence.

"So where we going?" she asked after a moment.

"Have you eaten?" Angel asked.

"No actually, but if you–"

"No that’s fine. I know a pretty nice restaurant that’s not far," Angel said. How he knew these things was beyond anyone . . . it wasn’t like he went out to dinner a lot. But he couldn’t count the nights he’d walked the streets of Sunnydale alone, and one tended to pick up things like restaurant locations when one had nothing to do but brood.

"Great," Meara replied, smiling. "Do you get out much?"

"No," he replied succintly.

"Don’t you have a girlfriend? Buffy or something?"

"What do you know about Buffy?" Angel asked, suddenly on edge. She looked taken aback at the danger in his tone.

"Just that she and you . . . well that’s how you lost your soul in the first place, isn’t it?" she asked.

"We’re not together. It’s too dangerous." She looked suprised about something else, but she didn’t say anything.

"That makes more sense then. I wondered why you weren’t going out with her tonight," Meara said.

"How do you know so much about me?" Angel asked.

"We have contacts with the Romany tribes," Meara said. "They obviously knew quite a bit about you."

"I see."

"I hope you’re not offended or anything . . . it was all purely magical curiousity," she said hastily.

"No, it’s fine. I just ddn’t realize I was being studied," Angel said. Meara smiled.

"Must be a novel sensation," she laughed.

"Here we are," Angel said, gesturing to the small restaurant they were stoppd in front of. He opened the door and gestured for her to go first. She went at once, her blue eyes nearly glowing in her porcelain face.

********************

"She’ll be down in a minute," Theresa, the Latin American maid said. "Madam!" Cordelia smiled at hearing the words and took another long look in the mirror. It would never do to be ready right away. She had to make them wait a little. Especially guys lik Blake, and especially when she was actually eager for the date. She obviously couldn’t let him know that.

Usually she didn’t have men pick her up at home at all, but her parents were away so it was safe. Her father still didn’t relaize that she’d had about tne boyfriends in the last year. Well, the year before Xander. There’s only been one for months. But she wasn’t going to think about that. Or him. Xander was bad. Xander was an evil jerk. She never wanted to have him in her thoughts again. And thanks to Blake St. John, she wouldn’t have to.

Cordelia pronounced herself perfect, as usual, and decided he’d been waiting long enough. She practiced her gracious, suprised smile and smoothed her face, starting down the spiral staircase at a leisurely pace. Blake looked up at the click of her heels and smiled and she smiled brilliantly back. He looked dashing in a black evening jacket over a white turtleneck.

"Blake! You’re here!" she exclaimed.

"You look stunning," he told her, his eyes admiring. Cordelia glowed at the compliment. It had been a while since a handsome man had paid her such a compliment . . . Xander had been better with insults. But that was all behind her now.

"You’re sweet," she said, extending her arm as she reached the bottom of the stiarcase. He took it and she gave Theresa a look as they swept out of the house, walking down the walkway to his black Mercedes.

"It’s beautiful!" she purred, running a hand over the hood.

"Isn’t she?" he asked, opening the door for her like a true gentleman. Cordelia began to realize that she had hit the jackpot this time. Handsome, rich and gentlemanly. Everything Xander Harris was not.

So why did she keep thinking about Xander Harris?

********************

"Buffy!" Joyce called. The Slayer peeked her head out and saw Hart standing by the door. She grabbed her purse and descended at once, hoping her 4-inch heels and lacy dress wasn’t too fancy–he looked pretty casual. But then again, she would wear the same thing to the Bronze, and so, probably, would he, so it shouldn’t be a problem. He smiled broadly when he saw her and she smiled back.

"Home before midnight," Joyce reminded her. Buffy made a face but promised, kissing her mother’s cheek before they went out the door.

"So where we going?" she asked as they walked to his car–a rather old, but serviceable Nissan. Hey, at least he had a car. More than Buffy could claim.

"It’s a suprise," Hart told her, his light eyes laughing. She grinned.

"I like suprises," she said, opening the passenger side door and climbing in. There was a pair of dice hanging from his rearview window and she smiled. Well, he had his own style, and that was good right.

"So how are you?" he asked, climbing in. She looked up from buckling her seatbelt and smiled.

"I’m great. How are you?" she asked.

"Well as of a few minutes ago I’m wonderful," he said, casting her a sideways glance. She brightened, more glad than ever that she’d agreed to come on this date. Willow and Xander were probably having a wonderful time without her anyway, and they would forgive her. And for the first time in a while she felt happy. It’d be better if it was Angel with a permanent soul beside her (though she couldn’t picture him in a Nissan), but one took what one got, after all, and Hart seemed pretty good . . .

********************

Willow glanced around the entrance of the fairgrounds nervously, wondering if she was doing the right thing. It’s not like it was really a date, after all. She was just going with a friend to the science expo. And even if it was, she and Oz were broken up so she wasn’t cheating on him. Excpet it wasn’t a date, so it didn’t matter. And where was Harold anyway?

She finally spotted him, hurrying towards her. She smiled, then blinked when she saw the bouquet of flowers he was carrying.

"Harold!" she called. "Hey."

"Willow!" he exclaimed. "I’m glad you came." She smiled. "These are for you," he said, handing her the flowers. She blinked again and took a deep breath.

"Th-thank you. Thank you very much," she said. They were beautiful flowers, but did this mean he thought it was a date? And was it a date? "Let’s go inside," she suggested. He looked enthusiastic and they stepped inside the large room. Harold drew her over to a large booth and began chattering excitedly. Willow smiled and nodded and tried to join the conversation and muster enthusiasm, but she was distracted by the flowers and by how much she missed Oz. And for the first time, the science-talk was far from comforting . . .

********************

Giles glanced at his watch again. She was late. Very late. And Giles hated tardiness.

He roamed the familiar library restlessly, looking at one book and then another. His "brood" was all out and about, at the Bronze or on dates. There were no imminent Slaying disasters. Everything was calm. And she was not coming. Giles wondered how he’d even been roped into this. He hated blind dates. At this point in his life, dating at all was not something he particularly wanted to be doing.

Just as Giles was about to give up in disgust, the library doors opened and he turned to see an attractive woman about his age entering. She was wearing a neat suit and her reddish hair was pinned up in a bun. She wore glasses and smiled as she saw him.

"Mr. Giles? I’m so sorry I’m late. My surgery ran long and I got here as soon as I could. I’m Kristin Reynolds," she introduced herself, walking forward with her hand outstretched. Giles met her halfway and they shook hands. She smiled broadly. "You look annoyed. Let me guess, you don’t like tardiness? Or blind dates?"

"N-no, not especially no," Giles stammered.

"M neither. But my cousin Mark said there was a librarian that worked at his school I just had to meet ad when Mark’s asks, he makes it rather difficult to say no," she said, rolling her eyes. Giles smiled despite himself.

"I-I had rather that same problem myself," he agreed.

"Where in England are you from?" Ms. Reynolds asked.

"Near London," Giles replied. "Let me get my coat and we’ll go."

"I love England. I mean, I’m sure I can’t love it as much as a native, but I went to Oxford and it was amazing," she said.

"You attended Oxford?" Giles queried, his interest fired up. Ms. Reynolds smiled broadly.

"I perfected quite an accent while I was there," she said in a near perfect imitation of his own. He smiled and they headed out of the library together. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all . . .

********************

"We’re out of here," Devon announced. "Will you take Cori home?" Oz stared at his friend in disbelief for a moment.

"Thanks!" the bubbly blond exclaimed. Oz looked from her back to the lead singer of his band and then back again.

"Sure," he said, with no other option left. Devon clapped him on the shoulder.

"Great. I’ll see ya."

"Yeah." The lead singer and the rest of the band, along with their groupies, departed, leaving Oz and Cori.

"I don’t have to go home for a while," she said. "Why don’t we go to the Bronze or someplace? Or we could go to your house. I’d love to hear you play!"

"We could go to the Bronze," Oz said, standing up and starting outside. She followed him quickly, smiling.

"That sounds great! I’m such a huge fan of your band. And I love a man that plays guitar!"

"I’m glad," Oz said, wondering how he’d possibly been stuck with her for an entire evening. And wondering where Willow was right then . . .

********************

The music coming inside was loud. Very very loud. But Xander was into that. Really. There seemed to be an odd preponderance of leather around, but that could be dismissed to the cold weather and fashion styles. And he wondered why he’d never come to this club before–why he had forgotten where it was–but dismissed that from his mind. Because he had a date. A late date. That rhymed.

"Xander!" a voice called. He turned with a grin to see Jessi come towards him. Her blond hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing . . . oh wow. She was wearing leather too. Except hers had spikes on it. And there wasn’t a whole lot of that either . . .

"J-Jessi," Xander stuttered. "Hey."

"Come on, let’s go inside!" Jessi shouted over the loud music. "Isn’t this place great?" Xander nodded as they entered through what seemed to be a back entrance. The club was dark and there seemed to be some kind of mosh pit by the stage. The music was beginning to get painful. But hey, he a date, so it was all good!

"You want a drink?" Jessi asked.

"Sure!" Xander cried. "I’ll have a Coke." She laughed suddenly.

"Right. A Coke. You sure that’s all you want?" she asked.

"Pepsi’s okay too," he said, unsure what she was talking about. She laughed again.

"You’re so funny Xander!" she exclaimed, and made ehr way off towards the bar, leaving Xander alone in a crowd of leather clad moshers.

********************

When Buffy heard "suprise" her mind hadn’t went to a dim, stinky bowling alley with a pair of idiotic friends. But maybe that was just her.

"You sure you don’t want a drink?" Hart asked, offering her a large mug of beer.

"You do realize that we’re underage, right?" she asked pointedly. He laughed, then stopped, blinking and tried to figure out what she’d said. She sighed and waved the drink away.

"Hey pretty lady," one of his friends said, sitting beside her and putting an arm around her. She pushed him off, glad that he was too drunk to notice that it was her strength and not his imbalance that sent him sprawling across the floor. Hart and his other friend guffawed.

"Here, you bowl my turn," Hart offered. Buffy shook her head.

"I don’t bowl," she said firmly.

"Come on. You can’t be that bad!" he exclaimed. Buffy hadn’t bowled for years–not since middle school when she’d played an entire game without knocking down one pin. Besides, she was wearing a skirt.

"I don’t bowl," she repeated. This seemed to inflame the curiousity of all three and they decided she just had to try it! When Hart offered to find her a light ball to use, Buffy’s patience snapped.

"Fine!" she exclaimed, grabbing his large, heavy ball out of his hand. It actually wasn’t very heavy at all, though he had toi carry it with both hands. She walked straight up to the lane, bent her knees slightly, aimed straight down the middle, and sent the ball flying. All ten pins went down. She stood and turned around to see the awed look on their faces. She sighed and went to sit back down.

"You don’t bowl?" Hart asked.

"No."

"That was 45 miles per hour!" one of his friends exclaimed.

"I think you’re reading it wrong," Buffy said. He frowned and tilted his head, then started to laugh. She sighed again.

"Let’s have another round to toast Hart’s little lady!" the other friend exclaimed.

"That’s really okay–" Buffy began, but they already had the beer and were glugging it down.

No, this was no quite how she’d envisioned their first date.

********************

"So your digestive system works just the same?" Meara asked. "I mean, you seem to eat and drink like anyone else." Angel nodded and sipped his glass of red wine mixed with blood.

"I don’t have to, but I can. It’s not necessary and I don’t get hungry or thirsty–not for anything but blood anyway–but it passes time," he said. She laughed huskily and sipped her own wine.

"This is a lovely place," she said, glancing around the small, dusky restaurant.

"Yes, it’s nice," Angel agreed. He’d never actually been there before, and he hadn’t expected it would be quite so . . . intimate, but it wasn’t a big problem.

"What do you usually do on Friday nights?" she asked.

"Not much. Sometimes I go patrol, but I’ve been weak lately." She bit her lip and cast her eyes down.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bring up so many painful memories."

"It’s all right, I’ll survive."

"You’d survive just about anything though, wouldn’t you?"

"Except sunlight or a stake through the heart."

"What about beheading?"

"That too." The waiter chose that moment to approach.

"Can I get anything else for you?" he asked. They exchanged glances.

"No, I think we’re all right," Meara said. The waiter bowed and moved away when Angel nodded agreement.

"So, where were we?" he asked, his dark eyes meeting her vibrant blue ones. Meara McKinley smiled, secrets sparkling from the depths of her eyes.

********************

"How was your crémè broule?" Blake inquired. Cordelia smiled brightly.

"Delicious! This is a wonderful restaurant," she said, glancing around at their elegant surroundings.

"Isn’t is charming? A bit small, maybe, but quaint," he said. Cordelia fought to keep suprise off her face–it was very large and very fancy and veryexpensive.

"Oh yes," Cordelia laughed. "But what more can you ask for in Sunnydale? I swear, this town is way tiny." He smiled charmingly back.

"Indeed. Way tiny." Cordelia had the grace to blush slightly, but he laughed it off.

"I’m very glad you were free tonight," he said, reaching over to take her hand.

"So am I," Cordelia nearly purred. Now this was the way to live.

********************

In the past, Willow had always been able to join into scientific conversations–such as the one Harold had been having on robotics for the past 45 minutes–with some fervor. Unfortunately, that time seemed to have passed. Whenever anyone mentioned robots she thought about Moloch, the demon that had tried to make her his love-slave, and Ted, the evil killer robot that went after women, married them and killed them. Thinking of those two made her think of Buffy and how much her life had changed since the Slayer arrived in Sunnydale. And then her mind would wander to some of those changes and finally come to Oz, at which point she would grow depressed and lose the conversation altogether.

Besides that, she was nearly bored to tears.

"Maybe we could go look around," she suggested as Harold paused for breath. He gave her an odd look and shook her head. "Never mind." He went back to his conversation, and she tried to pay attention and join in. Somehow, it just wasn’t working.

Had Willow finally grown out of being a nerd? But she liked being a nerd. There was a kind of nerd solidarity. And it gave her an excuse to not always look perfectly coifed like Buffy and Cordelia. She couldn’t not be a nerd anymore. She still loved computers and science and even math. She was just . . . insanely bored . . .

Willow sighed and tried to focus.

********************

"You’re a surgeon?" Giles inquired.

"Pediatric surgeon," Kristin said. "But I have a doctorate in ancient mythology as well, focusing mainly on the Celtic civilizations."

"A double doctorate?" Giles asked in wonder.

"Well, the first is just an M.D. It took me longer to get the Ph.D. That’s the one I got at Oxford–the regular one was at Princeton medical school. I always wanted to be a doctor, and while I was doing pre-med I took a class on mythology just on a whim. My interest was captured, so after I’d worked for a while as a surgeon, I went to Oxford and got my doctorate," she explained.

"Wonderful. I have a Ph.D. in ancient mythology myself," Giles said. The doctor blinked in suprise, then smiled.

"Well that doesn’t happen every day! Two people with the same doctorate meet on a blind date . . . maybe my cousin isn’t so insane after all," she laughed. Giles smiled back and sipped his glass of wine. So far this night seemed to be turning out far better than he’d expected. He actually liked this woman . . . quite a bit. She was lively and interesting and obviously intelligent.

"What was your focus?" she inquired, and the conversation slipped into myth . . .

********************

"I’ll just be over here," Xander said, motioning to a small table in the far corner.

"You don’t want to dance?" Jessi asked. He shook his head and backed away. He’d seen her dance a second ago–personally he would call it self-mutilation, but whatever floated her boat . . .

"Sitting now," Xander mumbled. "Going to sit." He watched as she joined the crowd and wondered how people made it out alive. And then he sipped his drink and wondered if Coke was the only thing in it. He pushed it away from him, across the table. Drunk was not a thing he needed to be right then. Actually, there was not a thing he needed to be right then.

A few minutes later Jessi came bounding out of the crowd and sat herself on Xander’s legs, facing towards him, her arms around his neck. Her make-up was changed from earlier at school–he hardly believed it was the same person actually. She was wearing nearly black lipstick and shimmery black eyeshadow. Slowly she parted her lips and ran her tongue over her teeth. Xander felt the prick of a knife and looked down to see one running slowly up his chest–luckily about a millimeter away.

"Do you want to play?" Jessi asked.

"Not-not really. But th-thanks for the offer," Xander stammered, eyeing the metal gleam. She laughed suddenly and flipped the knife up, catching it on her finger and it came down and hiding it somewhere.

"Don’t move a muscle," she whispered in his ear and then dissapeared. Xander didn’t move. Not even a muscle.

*********************

"And then there was that time when I was like, stuck at the beach, without any ride home! It was like, majorly horrific!" Cori exclaimed. "But enough about me. Tell me about your guitar."

"It’s a guitar," Oz said, wishing she would go find someone else in the crowded club to harass. No such luck.

"Does it have a name? I heard some people name their guitars. I think that’s like way manly."

"It’s just a guitar," Oz assured her. Cori rolled her eyes.

"You’re too . . . um, what’s that word?"

"Modest?"

"Right! Modest! You’re like such a good player! I love your band!"

"Actually we’re kind of moving towards badness," Oz pointed out.

"No way! You guys are so good!"

"Thanks."

"Do you want to dance? I love this song!"

"Not really. You can go dance though," Oz said. Cori shook her blond head emphatically.

"No way! I couldn’t leave you! I mean, this is like a total date! Our first date!"

"Our last date," Oz muttered.

"What?" Cori asked, unable to tell what he was saying. Oz managed a smile.

"Nothing," he assured her, his eyes sweeping the crowd for a sign of someone, anyone sane, but mostly Willow . . .

********************

"Oh look. He’s on the floor," Hart said . . . or at least, that was what Buffy thought he said. With all the beer, his words were a bit more slurred than that.

"Hart, I have to go home now," she said, standing up. "Bye."

"I’ll take you!" he volunteered, though it came out more like "I’sh tak oo!" He grabbed her arm and Buffy pushed him off, disgusted.

"Get off me!" she exclaimed. "I’m walking home." She hurried out the door and somehow he managed to walk after her . . . it was mostly a stagger, but some actual walking might have happened. Buffy pushed open the doors and stepped thankfully out into the cool air, breathing in deeply for the first time that night. Hart stumbled out, knocking into her and sending them both flying down the steps to land in the dirt. Buffy struggled to her feet and walked off as quickly as she could. Hart followed. She kept walking, not looking back and knowing she would lose him eventually. He was too drunk to keep up.

Which was when she heard him shout and turned to find him held by a vampire. Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Why does stuff like this always happen to me?" she asked no one in particular, then attacked the vampire, getting Hart away before the creature could injure him and staking it quickly. As she hauled her "date" to his feet, he wretched and threw up all over her dress and silk shoes, and promptly passed out. Buffy groaned.

"You have no idea how much I want to leave you here right now!" she told the unconscious body. But she took him along anyway.

********************

Kristin stifled a yawn and ducked her head, blushing.

"It’s not you," she assured him. "I was just moving all day and then I had surgery so . . ."

"It’s quite all right," Giles said, then turned to call for the waiter. "I’ll get the check and then drive you home." She smiled at him gratefully.

"Thank you so much. I had a wonderful evening," she said. Giles smiled back, suprised at how much he seconded that.

"So did I," he replied. "So did I." He’d have to go back to the library after dropping her off, sicne Buffy was supposed to be patrolling late. A corner of his mind wondered if she was having a good time, and then he dismissed the thought. For the first time in his life, Rupert Giles had had a good time on a blind date.

********************

"Are you tired?" Harold asked solicitously as Willow stifled yet another yawn.

"N–Yes. Yes I’m really tired," she lied, trying to hide the fact that she was bored silly. Willow Rosenberg was bored silly. By a science expo. It was an oxymoron in terms.

"Do you want to go home?" Harold asked. Willow almost shook her head, then stopped herself and nodded.

"But there’s no need to take me. I only live a few blocks away," she assured him. Actually, she really wanted to go to the library and see if there was anything she could help with. It was better than going home to moon over Oz more . . .

********************

"You look tired. I’ll take you home," Oz said, standing up from their table.

"I’m really not, but it’s okay if you want to leave. Are you sure you don’t just want to go somewhere else? Somewhere more private?" Cori asked.

"Pretty sure," Oz said, walking out of the Bronze. She followed him quickly.

"Well at least I get to ride in your van! I love your van! It’s like, so cool! It’s like vintage or something!"

"Something like that." As she chattered on Oz’s mind went somewhere else and he fnally decided what he was going to do. The night, as painful as it had been, had taught him one thing . . . you didn’t find Willow’s every day. And he was going to hold on to his as long and as hard as he could. There was only one place she’d be on a Friday night except the Bronze, or possibly home. The highschool library. Little did Cori know as she climbed into the van, chatting away, that her date’s mind was already somewhere else, where his heart had been all along.

********************

"It’s boring here," Jessi pouted. Xander watched her with the wide-eyed fear that he’d felt all evening. Boring? This was boring? Then what was a roller coaster, an afternoon nap? A light dawned in Xander’s mind–an unusual event. He was often rather in the dark.

"I have an idea. A plan. Not yet a wiggins," he told her. Jessi perked up a little.

"Is it fun?" she asked.

"Is breaking and entering fun?" Xander asked, and he really did mean the question. Jessi clapped her hands and jumped to her feet, pulling Xander up with her.

"Where are we going?" she demanded.

"How about a little extracurricular activity?" Xander asked, getting into the bad boy persona. Her eyes gleamed.

"You want to break into the school?"

"That was exactly what I had in mind," he replied, just praying that Giles was there when he arrived . . .

********************

"Well, here we are," Blake said, opening the door of his mansion and stepping inside. Cordelia glanced around, trying desperately not to let her eyes go wide. It was huge! Well, she’d known that from being outside it and from the huge iron gates and the long driveway, but still–It was amazing! Not only huge, but gorgeous, and tasteful, and elegant . . . like Blake himself. Cordelia wondered where he’d been all this time.

"It’s . . . it’s wonderful," she breathed. He smiled and shrugged slightly.

"I know it’s not much, but I work with what I have. Would you like a drink?" he asked, leading her through the huge front hall into a large entertaining room into a smaller bar/lounge room.

"Uh . . . sure," Cordelia replied, still trying to take everything in.

"What do you drink?" he asked.

"Oh, whatever," she said distractedly. He smiled and went behind the bar, stopping to fetch some bottles. She turned slowly, taking in the room, then laughed giddily and sat in a huge leather armchair.

"What time did you say you had to be home?" Blake asked in an offhand manner.

"Oh, whenever I want. My parents are out of town," Cordelia said, spotting a mirror and checking herself over. Soft music started to play and Cordelia looked up at him, startled. He smiled and came over, handing her a drink and sipping his own. She accepted and sipped it slowly, wondering what was in it. It was different than anything she’d had before . . . definitely alcohol, but she wasn’t too worried. Blake was obviously a gentleman, and it wasn’t like she had to get herself home or anything.

"To our first date," Blake toasted. "And your beauty."

"I’ll toast to that!" Cordelia exclaimed, then blushed. "The first date, I mean," she hastened to explain. "And all the others."

"Of course. All the others." They clinked glasses and Cordelia sipped her drink. Blake took her hand.

"Come on, I want to show you something." She stood obediently and followed him out of the room and down a small staircase. He pulled out a key and unlocked the door, telling her to close her eyes. Once more obedient, she did as she was told, just getting a faintly eery sense of deja vu. Older, rich men, unknown drinks . . . but Blake obviously wasn’t going to try and feed her to a giant snake! She’d spent way too much time around Buffy!

He took her hand and led her inside a few steps, then released her.

"Open your eyes," he said in an odd voice. Cordelia opened her eyes. And shrieked.

She didn’t know what a lot of the things around her were, but she had a guess. And some of them were quite obvious. Like the chains. And the whips. And the leather clothing!

"There’s nothing to be frightened of sweet," Blake murmured. Cordelia turned accusing eyes on him.

"You sicko! Freak! What is wrong with you?" Cordelia screamed. He reached for her, his eyes glemaing, and she threw her drink in his face, then turned and ran as fast as her pumps could carry her.

She was lost in seconds, but she kept running and soon found the front door. She flung herself out and raced down the beautifully hedged driveway. Once she heard him calling after her.

"Cordelia! Come back! Cordelia!" Needless to say, she didn’t look back. Or even pause. The gates were shut when she reached them, but there was a smaller, human entrance with a lock on it. She frantically pulled on the lock to no avail before she remembered the hair pin Xander had given her. She pulled it from her purse and picked the lock as he had shown her, then flung herself out of the estate and onto the sidewalk, where she began to run, instincts taking her to the place that meant safe.

She was almost to the high school before she realized where she was running.

********************

Angel roused slowly back to consciousness. The last thing he remembered was a moment of dizziness and Meara’s triumphant smile. Now what he had was a roaring headache and chains on his arms.

"What . . .?" he murmured, opening his eyes and blinking. Meara’s face came into view, smiling cruelly.

"You’re awake! Goody, the fun can commence," she murmured. He was laying on his bed, his arms chained to the wall, and she straddled his chest, stroking a hand around his face.

"What did you do?" Angel demanded.

"I drugged you," she admitted blithely. "Really, I wasn’t sure if it would work this well, but it was perfect. And you shouldn’t regain your strength for another day, by which time you’ll be thanking me for getting rid of that pesky soul of yours." Angel felt a chill go through him, but didn’t who it and shook his head firmly.

"You think you can give me a moment of pure happiness? Chained up? Against my will?" he asked socrnfully. Meara laughed.

"I could if I was trying hard enough sweet, but sorry to say it wouldn’t help anyway. That’s the funniest thing about this whole mess. All this time you could have been with your sweet little girlie-girl and you never even bothered to look at the spell that annoying gypsy found! If you’d translated it, you would have realized that there wasn’t one word about happiness in it. Not a syllable. And you never even realized!" she exclaimed, laughing. A rush went through Angel, but he supressed it. She could be lying. It could be a trick. But she was definitely wrong about one thing.

"No, no," she continued. "I’m not here for sex. Not yet anyway. This will be much more painful, I promise."

"Meara?" Angel asked. She had begun to get off him and the bed, but stopped and turned to look at him.

"Yes?" she asked, her eyes a very dark blue. Angel smiled.

"You haven’t studied vampires that long, have you? Because while drugs work," he said, pulling his chains out of the wall and swinging them around to hit her head and knock her out, "they wear off very quickly." There was a moment of panic on her face and then she was out cold. Angel sighed and took the key from her belt, unlocking himself and going over to the trunk to fetch some more approriate manacles for the sorceress. Giles had better hear about this, and Angel desperately wanted to get his hands on a copy of that curse . . .

On to Part 3