"Buffy?" Dawn murmured from her desk in the office.

"Yeah?" Buffy asked, distracted by the database she was trying to update.

"Why did Napoleon attack Accra?"

"Umm." The Slayer frowned and squinted at the computer screen. "What? Napoleon? Dawn, you know I don't remember that stuff."

Dawn grinned. "Yeah, but it's fun to ask."

"Try Willow. She remembers stuff from college better than I do," Buffy suggested. "And you can ask her what she was thinking when she renamed all the fields in our client database!"

"Right," Dawn muttered as she picked up her books and left to find the redhead. The young woman knew exactly what Willow had been thinking when she'd edited the database-making it logical for once. Buffy, bless her heart, had a rather nasty habit of naming fields such things as 'icky stuff' and 'really bad guys'. The categories only made sense to the Slayer. After all, Dawn herself thought that Galki bile was icky stuff, but to Buffy it was only 'sticky residue'.

As Dawn had suspected, Willow was in her apartment, studying at her desk. Like Dawn, she was in college, although significantly further along. The redhead couldn't stand the distractions of Eos' offices, so she never studied there. "Willow?" Dawn murmured as she knocked on the open door.

Willow spun around in her chair. "Dawn!" She got up and crossed the room to usher Dawn in. "Whatcha need?"

Dawn grinned and hefted her history book. "Napoleon. Mediterranean campaigns. Help."

"Ah, History class. Still a case of serious not-like?" Willow remarked lightly.

"Oh yeah, we're talking 'don't call me, I'll call you, not-like'. Who cares about Napoleon before he did the whole emperor thingy anyway?" Dawn asked as she flopped down on Willow's couch.

Willow grinned. "It's important so that you understand.his motivations!"

"You just made that up," Dawn accused. "I know that grin. It's the 'I'm bullshitting the squirt' face."

"Me? I'd never," Willow defended. "But I will let you look at my notes from last term," She offered. "I didn't have a crappy grad student teaching history back then."

Dawn nodded vigorously. "That'd be great, Wills. I want to get this done before the club opens."

"Singing tonight?" The redhead asked as she flipped through her CDs to find her history notes.

"Nah, but I might dare Buffy into doing it-just to see the look on Lorne's face. It's priceless, you know," She replied.

Willow tossed the CD to Dawn. "It is. Too bad I'm gonna miss it," She murmured. Thursday evenings were when Willow went to therapy.

"Yeah, but maybe next time." Dawn said as she stood to leave. "Or tomorrow. I've been thinking about trying that new place near campus. You know, the one with a regular, all-human clientele?"

"Hmm." Willow hummed. She knew the place-it was a new gay club that had opened a couple of months ago. "I should work with Buffy on our client list. Maybe next time."

Dawn nodded, obviously disappointed. She left after that, to finish her assignments and get ready to be entertained by Lorne and his other clientele. Once she got back to her room, she found that Willow's notes had everything she needed to finish her writing, so she was left with plenty of time to kill. She almost went back down to the redhead's room, to bug her for an hour or so, but decided against it. Willow got uncomfortable whenever she spent lots of idle time alone with her.

That bothered Dawn a lot. She liked Willow-and not just in a 'you're my sister's best friend, and a pretty good person besides' kind of way. All through high school Willow had been there for moral and academic support, just as Dawn had provided for the recovering witch during her therapy. They'd been as close as sisters, ganging up on Buffy and Lorne, playing jokes on them.

Then Dawn brought home her first girlfriend.

Buffy had choked a little, mostly because she'd only heard Dawn talk about boys before. Dawn just shrugged and said that she hadn't met a girl she'd wanted to date before. Lorne had been a big help, since he honestly didn't care about stuff like that. Buffy soon settled down, especially after Dawn and Lorne convinced her that it wasn't some weird phase Dawn was going through, or a strange attempt to relate better to Willow, or any other cheap teenage trick. Ironically, it had been Willow who'd taken it the worst.

The redhead never talked about it with Dawn-at all. Before that incident, she'd listened and joked with Dawn about the young girl's procession of boyfriends, laughing at how quickly they were discarded. Once she brought home a girl, it all ended. Willow made it very clear, without saying a word, that she no longer wanted to discuss Dawn's personal life, in any way. At first, Dawn thought that it was because the entire situation reminded her of Tara, but she discarded that rather quickly. Willow had gotten past the point where thinking about Tara and mentioning her late lover caused her enormous pain. Dawn even asked Lorne about it, but the green demon could provide no answers. For a while Dawn struggled with Willow's change in behavior, before giving up on ever getting things back to normal. She stopped bringing people home and Willow relaxed a lot.

But now she and Willow were on a more even keel. Before, it had been Dawn the kid and Willow the grown-up. However, with both of them enrolled in college, they were just another couple of university students. Even Buffy had stopped treating Dawn like a child, giving her more responsibility in the office and really pushing her at her physical training. Still, Willow acted like a huge chunk of Dawn's life simply didn't exist. much like that same part of Willow's life just wasn't there.

Willow's lack of a social life continued to bother Dawn. Oh, the redhead talked to people on campus and did things with the other investigators, but she didn't date-ever. Back in high school, before the whole Dawn-meets-cute-girl fiasco, she'd even tried to set Willow up. No dice, and a stern lecture taught her to never do it again.

Which was just fine with Dawn, because she knew exactly who she'd set Willow up with now, and that person wouldn't appreciate the redhead going out with anyone else. She knew this because she was the person who wanted to date Willow. Dawn had had a crush on the other woman for a long time, ever since her senior year of college. She realized it shortly after the failed blind date. At one point, she'd thought that Willow might have had an interest in her. Now, though, she couldn't tell for sure. Willow was so closed off about things like that, as though they didn't exist for her anymore.

So Dawn was stuck wanting someone who lived like a nun. Unbeknownst to Willow, her attitude toward Dawn was a large part of what drove the younger girl to see so many people in quick succession. Dawn was so frustrated that she looked for physical release wherever she could find it, proving to herself that she, at least, could feel and enjoy her body. If Willow was going to waste away, fine. Dawn would have fun for both of them.

���...�...�...�...���

"Keep your pants on!" Buffy yelled at the office door. It was just her luck that some bozo would start pounding on it right as she was juggling the phone, an urgent e-mail, and a recalcitrant printer cartridge. She gave up on the printer, ignored the e-mail, and told the Fraternal Order of Police that she would only donate to them if they'd start arresting rapists and wife-beaters. Then, and only then, did she answer the door.

"You rang?" She began, before really seeing who was on the other side of the door. "Giles?!" The Slayer enveloped her former Watcher in a massive hug.

Giles smiled softly and returned the gesture. Underneath the shock, he heard a current of happiness in Buffy's voice. Perhaps she was glad to see him. "Buffy. I see that Los Angeles has sharpened your tongue a bit."

Buffy grimaced. "They keep calling, even when I tell them to stop. I think Angel might have actually given them some money." She frowned briefly. "Oh, what am I thinking? Come in!" She stepped aside and ushered the older man inside. "And what are you doing here?"

"Still direct, I see," Giles murmured. "Actually, I am here on business."

"What kind?" She inquired as she closed the door.

"You know, of course, about the Watchers' Council's. rehabilitation," Giles began. "I have been a part of that effort."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, I get the e-mails."

"The Council has sent me here in an official capacity, Buffy," Giles continued nervously.

"Official? How official?" She asked cautiously.

"They would be. delighted if you would return to the fold," He said quietly.

She just stared. "Return. as in, let someone tell me how to do my job?" She said, her voice rising.

Giles looked up sharply. "No! Not at all, Buffy. Things have changed. many things."

"Uh huh. Yeah, I read about the 'new guard' trying to revamp the way stuff is done, but I don't really see." She replied, her voice trailing off.

"No one would try to order you about," Giles replied. "Even the most stubborn members of the Council admit that you do know how to do your job."

"Then why the 'come back, come back,' thing?" Buffy asked.

"Several reasons, really," Giles said. "Foremost, however, is that the relationship between the Council and the Slayer is symbiotic. The Slayer benefits from the Council's collected knowledge and experience," He began. "And the Council in turn learns a great deal from the Slayer."

"Yeah, like what not to do," She muttered, remembering all those stories about how her predecessors died young.

"They-We, would like your help," He stated. "You have lived far longer than any Slayer before you, and I alone can only provide a limited amount of information regarding why this is so. After all, I haven't been your Watcher for several years."

Buffy frowned. "So you guys want to watch me work so you can figure out how to make a better Slayer?"

"We want to be able to help Slayers live longer lives," Giles replied softly. "Before the upheaval, none of those in power would listen to me, when I told them that your unorthodox methods were superior. Now, though, they are more willing to look at new ideas."

"Ah," Buffy murmured. "And that's why you're here?"

"There is more," Giles admitted.

"What more?"

"Faith."

Buffy jumped out of her chair. "What about her? She's still locked up, safe and sound in jail."

Giles winced. "Yes, she is. We have kept an eye on her, unofficially, of course. In her own way, she is as unique as you are, Buffy."

"Explain," Buffy demanded, obviously angry. She did not like talking about Faith.

"She is far older than any Slayer, other than yourself. The reasons why this is so are of course different," Giles reminded her. "And you do realize that if she survives prison, and from everything we can tell she is a model prisoner, she will be extraordinarily old when she is released."

"As opposed to me, who'll be dead by then?" Buffy snapped.

Giles sighed. "No, Buffy, that is not what I meant. You will still be older than Faith when she gets out of prison. However, for now she runs less of a risk of dying-she is protected. When she gets out, though."

"You guys want to be here to do something with her?" Buffy guessed. "Like maybe lock her in a cage?"

"If that is what it takes, yes," Giles replied. "The Council made a grave error before, when they wiped their hands of her. It cannot be allowed to happen again."

"You've got that right," Buffy growled. "Because if she gets out and goes nuts again, I'm making sure she either dies or gets locked away for the rest of her life."

"If that is what must be done, the Council is prepared," Giles murmured.

Buffy relaxed a little. If Giles really had any power in the Council now, she could afford a little cautious optimism. "So, if, and I repeat IF, I agree to this, who would be my Watcher?"

Giles smiled. "Oh, that would be me, of course." He endured another Slayer-powered hug as Buffy squealed and jumped around.

"Oh, just wait until Dawn and Willow hear about this!" Buffy crowed. "You're moving to Los Angeles! You'll live in the hotel, of course. I mean, we've got all these apartments. You won't even have to use one of the guys' old ones."

"Ah, yes. Angel," Giles said sadly. "I know it must have been hard on you, to lose all of them like that."

Buffy cocked her head and looked at Giles oddly. She wasn't sure if he was being serious or just playing along. If it was the former, then the Watchers still had some work to do on surveillance. If it was the latter, he was really good. Her gut said that Giles didn't know the others were still alive. "We're coping ok," She hedged after a moment. "So, why don't we go downstairs while we wait for Dawn and Willow to get out of class?"

"As you wish," Giles said, following Buffy out of the office. The Slayer stopped cold in the doorway and looked back at the computer. She should probably check that e-mail.

"Um. hold on a sec, ok? I need to see what this is." Buffy jogged back to the computer and opened the message. Fortunately, it wasn't a vision-message, although it was a rather significant e-mail, from one of their better-paying clients. She filed it for Willow and turned off the monitor. "Sorry, needed to take care of business."

"Ah," Giles murmured. He was inordinately pleased to see that Buffy was taking to working at the investigative firm so well. When they got downstairs and entered Caritas, Giles found himself unable to resist asking about its owner. "This would be Lorne's club?"

"Mm hmm," Buffy hummed. "He's around here somewhere-he said he had to do inventory or something this morning." Just then Lorne walked out of his office.

"Buffy!" He exclaimed, walking over to his lover. He embraced her briefly, pressing a quick kiss on her forehead. "And who is this charming gentleman?"

Buffy grinned. "Rupert Giles, my old Watcher. You've heard lots about him."

"Indeed I have," Lorne said with a smirk. "Buffy speaks highly of you. most of the time."

"That is far better than I had feared," Giles said absently. He was still reeling from shock. The familiarity between Lorne and Buffy would suggest that they were involved. Perhaps the Council would have been wise to have monitored the Slayer more closely these past years. Unfortunately they had stuck to simply making sure she was still alive. "Buffy, how long."

Buffy looked up at Giles. "How long what?"

Giles shifted nervously. "I was not aware that you were involved with anyone."

The Slayer's eyes widened. "You weren't? Really? I thought the Council still watched my every move. I mean, I was sure you guys knew what color underwear I wore. You really didn't know about Lorne?" She asked incredulously. "We've been together for more than two years!"

Giles remembered his manners before he let his mouth hang open. "No, we were unaware of that fact. I believe the Council has been somewhat remiss in its. watching."

"Nah," Lorne disagreed. "You haven't been, not at all. Well, only sort of."

Buffy turned towards Lorne. "Something tells me you had better start talking. I've heard that before."

Lorne smirked again. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you guys have been paying someone to keep track of Buffy in Los Angeles, so that you don't get mucked up in the Wolfram & Hart thing, and because you know if Buffy spotted a Watcher she'd go ballistic?"

"That is correct," Giles admitted. "However, our contact never mentioned."

"A lot of things, because he was told not to," Lorne said. "I asked him not to."

"What?" Buffy and Giles said together. "Why?" Buffy asked, obviously upset.

"Because, sweetie, what you do in your off-time is none of their business," Lorne reminded her. "Besides, do you really think they would've left you alone if they knew?"

Buffy winced. She honestly hadn't thought about it, but he was right. It was way too optimistic of her to have thought that the Council would've known about Lorne and NOT done anything, even if it was nothing more than to issue a warning. "I guess. But you should've told me!"

"Or perhaps not done it at all. We wouldn't have interfered," Giles said coldly.

Lorne cocked an eyebrow. "Sure, uh huh. And I should've told you, right in between jobs, hmm?"

Buffy scowled, but it was obvious that she'd already forgiven Lorne. "You'll be making it up to us, you know."

The green demon sighed. "I know, I know."

"And you will not interfere with Council business in the future," Giles warned.

"Won't I?" Lorne shot back. "As long as the Council doesn't try to interfere with Buffy or me, I won't."

Giles glared at the demon, but said nothing. He realized that if he was going to be in this city, as Buffy's Watcher-and Faith's as well-he would have to learn to tolerate this man.

Buffy looked nervously between the two men. "Um. can we not do the whole male posturing thing? 'Cause if you two keep this up, Dawn and Willow are going to walk in her and find nothing but a gold lame shirt and a pair of glasses."

Lorne grinned and reached for the young woman. "Ok, sweetie. Why don't you help me pick something to open with tonight? Then maybe you can convince Mr. Stuffy British Watcher Guy to sing for me."

Buffy practically fell on the floor laughing at the idea. "Oh... that would be so great!" She gasped. Giles stared down at her with a frown firmly fixed on his face. "You know, Lorne, he really can sing. I've heard him. Stuffy British Watcher folk stuff, but he can sing." Lorne held the laughing girl and smirked once again at the older man.

"Well. as long as he doesn't do Barry or Leonard, I suppose I can put up with it," The demon muttered.

"Barry or Leonard?" Giles echoed.

Buffy recovered enough to explain. "Angel used to sing Barry Manilow, and Wil was fond of Leonard Cohen. We don't really use their stuff anymore." She saw the sorrow on Giles' face, but didn't correct him. He thought that it was out of grief and mourning. The truth was, Angel's mangling of Manilow had reached legendary status. Wil's renditions of Cohen were appreciated for exactly the opposite reason. No one dared to sing their music in the club.

"Anyway, the girls will be back soon, so why don't you two make yourselves at home?" Lorne suggested. "Buffy, I really do need something to open with, and there's soda behind the bar."

Buffy nodded and led Giles over to a barstool while Lorne went back to his preparations. Seeing the Watcher's moue of disgust, she dug out a tea bag and made him some Earl Gray. "That is-"

"I know. We do keep the weird stuff here," Buffy commented. "Wesley used to."

"Ah," Giles murmured as he sipped his tea. "So, what kinds of classes are Dawn and Willow taking?"

*****
Part 69:

Wil glanced into the rearview mirror and grimaced. It seemed that Xander hadn't been lying when he'd said he needed to stop. Now, just five minutes after that pronouncement, the Raphe was practically dancing, with the occasional whine. "Fine, we'll stop."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," Xander whimpered gratefully. Oz patted his shoulder and edged away, just in case Wil had offered to pull over a few minutes too late. The blonde vampire got off the interstate and parked at an all-night gas station convenience store. Xander bolted out of the car and ran for the bathroom, leaving the rest of the group standing around the parking lot.

"So that's why we stopped?" Angel murmured as he got out of the other car.

"Forty-eight ounces of slurpee," Wil replied, shaking his head.

"Lemon-grape," Oz supplied helpfully. The others stared at each other for a moment before shrugging and walking inside. They'd just stopped an hour before, so they didn't need gas; however it was cold and windy outside.

Cordelia was just getting into line to buy some gum when she saw Xander heading her way. "What's that?" She asked, glaring at his hands, which were tucked behind his back. "You are not getting anything else to drink. We'll be daylight getting there!"

Xander grinned. "Nah, I'll be fine. Besides, this is different."

"Different than lemon-grape slurpees?" Cordelia snapped.

He held up a strange, green can. Actually, it was a six-pack. "Local flavor. Made right here in, well. close-by in Winchester, Kentucky. I bet we don't ever see any more of this stuff, anywhere. I can't pass that up!" He announced, brandishing the beverage. Cordelia sighed and paid for her gum.

"Fine," She murmured. It really didn't matter too much to her; she was riding in the other car, far away from the sure-to-be-sick Raphe.

Wil didn't notice Xander's purchase until they were already on the road again. "Bloody hell, you didn't!" He cursed, seeing Xander open a can in the rearview mirror. "Xander, we're never going to get to Knoxville if I have to keep stopping."

"You sound just like Cordy when you say that, you know," Xander said, taking a huge swallow of the soft drink. "Hey, this isn't so bad." He offered the can to Oz, who took a tentative sip. The werewolf immediately thrust the can back into Xander's hands. "What?" He asked, seeing the odd, and somewhat negative, expression on Oz's face.

"It made my tongue feel funny," Oz said.

Wil glanced back at them. "What the hell is it?"

Xander read the label. "Ale-8-One. Locally produced."

"I think it was the caffeine," Oz told Wil. "It's loaded."

Wil groaned. Great. Just what he needed-a hyper, jacked up Raphe with an overloaded bladder. "Xander, when we get to Tennessee, I'm going to kill you."

Xander grinned and finished the can of soda. He immediately reached for another.

���...�...�...�...���

"Knoxville isn't very impressive," Cordelia announced as she stretched her sore muscles. They'd just gotten their hotel room, and she'd lost the battle for an actual bed. That did not please her in the least.

"It's the middle of the night, in the dead of winter," Angel murmured. "I'll go tomorrow night and-"

"No!" The word was shouted in unison by his seven companions. He looked at them with both curiosity and fear.

"What? I was just going to-" Once again, Angel got cut off.

"Nope," Cordelia stated. "You are going to stay here, with Wil. We-the rest of us-are going to find a place to live." Angel frowned. "Angel, you have disgustingly bad taste. We lived in a rat hole in Indianapolis for three years because of your insane love for dumps, and I'm not doing that again."

Angel looked around the room for support, but found nothing. Wil wouldn't even support him. "Fine," He sighed. "Just don't."

"We can find a place to live," Gunn reminded the vampire. "Some of us have actually done that before."

The dark vampire didn't bother to reply. He just grabbed Wil and pulled him toward a bed. If they were going to make him stay inside while they found a place to live, he was going to enjoy it.

As soon as it was light enough to see, the non-vampire members of the gang bundled up in their warmest clothes and struck out to find somewhere to live. Of course, that journey began at McDonald's, where they perused the classifieds and rental guides over coffee and breakfast, arguing over where to live. With cell phones and city maps in hand, the group split up.

Although it took a bit of arguing, the six friends decided that they wanted to try living somewhere besides highly urbanized areas. The werewolves were uncomfortable with the constant press of people, and none of them liked the perpetual caution and wariness that all those prying eyes warranted. Fortunately for them, the area was overrun with suburb and semi-rural housing.

���...�...�...�...���

"Angel?" Wesley poked his head into the hotel room.

"What?" Angel snarled. It was about half an hour from sundown, and he hadn't heard from anyone all day. He and Wil had spent most of that time sleeping, since they'd been the ones driving the night before.

"We've got a place to live. Do you wish to go now?" The faun asked quietly.

Angel sighed and looked over at Wil. The younger vampire looked more than ready to get out of their less-than-clean hotel room. "Yeah, just a minute." He didn't relish the idea of huddling under a blanket with Wil while they drove. well, actually, huddling under a blanket with Wil was what he'd done all day, so maybe that wasn't so bad.

"Where is this place?" Angel asked twenty minutes later. They'd gone back on the interstate, then gotten back off, and now they were on rather roughly paved roads. He didn't hear much traffic either.

"Not far," Xander hedged from the driver's seat. "Maybe five minutes."

The sun set just as Xander pulled into the driveway of their new home. He and Oz got out of the car and waited for the vampires to get their first look.

"It's a bleedin' farm!" Wil exclaimed. "Angel, it's a farm! With a farm house, and a barn, and. is that a tractor?"

Angel stared at the place. The main house was invisible from the road and was a huge, old thing that would've actually appealed to him had it been in the middle of a city. And, as Wil had so politely pointed out, there was a barn. Most of the land was wooded, although he could see a pasture in the dim evening light. Then there was the tractor. "We're not taking up farming," He stated flatly.

Cordelia laughed. "Aw, and I was so looking forward to manure! No, there's a good reason for us choosing this, Angel."

"Lots of space and privacy," Wil said to no one in particular. "No neighbors, no cars, just a lot of room." He turned to look at the house. "That thing does have indoor plumbing, right?"

The werewolf seer just rolled her eyes.

���...�...�...�...���

Angel stared at the thing that Wil had thrust into his hands. What, precisely, was he supposed to do with it? That was the exact question he posed to his lover. "Wil, what am I supposed to do with it?"

Wil looked at Angel like he'd grown an extra head. "Read it, pillock. It's your turn to find gainful employment, remember? That was the deal-four of us work for money and four work against the lawyers. Then we switch when we move."

"Ah," Angel murmured. That certainly explained the classified ads he was holding. "So I'm supposed to find a 'no questions asked' job in here?"

"I did," Wil replied. Seeing that Angel wasn't really getting it, he continued. "Look, I know you haven't held down a regular job in. oh, forever, but it's not that difficult. Wesley and Fred found something in three days, and Cordelia's interviewing at the Mall as we speak. All you need to do is open the paper and look for something that's after dark." Wil thought for a moment. "And that doesn't require a lot of talking."

"Why not talking?" Angel asked as he perused the paper. Hmm. K Mart had openings, and while he loathed the idea of working at a place like that, Wil had managed to survive it for three years.

Wil grinned. "Repeat after me, love. 'Oh, we're out of Tide With Bleach 64-ounce refill cartons? Have you considered the affordable Sam's Choice alternative? You have? You think it sucks ass and you wouldn't use it to douche your worst enemy? Ah. Let me call Customer Service. Perhaps we got some Tide in this morning.'"

Angel blinked. "Tell me you just made that up."

"If it makes you feel better, I made that up," Wil replied.

"Right," Angel muttered. "Night time job, no talking." Wil left him in the kitchen, nibbling on a pen as he tried to find something to do. The blonde vampire returned to the computer room, where Fred, Oz and Xander were setting up shop. He'd promised to help with grounding an outlet or four in the room, so that they didn't fry their hardware.

Meanwhile, Angel agonized over the want ads. After reading every entry, he had twelve possible choices. The first three-jobs as file clerks-were already filled, or so he was told over the phone. The other five-two at a nursing home, several at convenience and discount stores, and one at a multimedia store-were still open, so he made appointments to see the managers. No place asked for any sensitive information.

Later that evening, Angel drove into town for his interviews. He'd declined any company; what he was doing was humiliating. Now he knew how Wil felt when he'd first walked into Wal-Mart and asked for an application.

After a few wrong turns, Angel found the nursing home. He immediately hated it. The place was a dump; the building was crumbling and the inside smelled like death. He walked out without even finding the manager; there was no way he was going to work there. The dark vampire got back into his car and pounded his head on the steering wheel. He only had two choices, and this place wasn't going to work. Maybe one of the discount places was hiring?

Next, Angel stopped by Wal-Mart, Target, and K Mart. Unfortunately, none of them were hiring 'his type'. The economy wasn't doing well and they didn't need help, other than management. He couldn't even get a position as a cart pusher. Of the convenience stores, two turned out to be unsuitable-he couldn't work somewhere that might force him to stay on shift well into daylight. The third had burned to the ground sometime between his call to them and eight that night. Despondent, Angel drove to the address he'd been given for his last appointment.

Angel stared up at the bright yellow building with something akin to fear racing through him. "Multimedia, my ass," He muttered under his breath. Vince's All Types Media Shoppe was an adult video store. There was no way he was working at a skin flick shop. No fucking way. He glanced back at the car, wondering if he could apologize to the manager he'd stood up at the nursing home. Maybe there was an opening on a night time road construction crew. Perhaps he could turn tricks downtown. Anything but-

"Hey, you that guy who called about the job?"

Angel turned back towards the shop. The speaker was a short, pudgy guy with a desperate comb-over and lots of gold jewelry. The vampire struggled to think of a suitable way of saying hell no. He couldn't think of a thing. "Yeah."

The man's face split open in a wide grin. "Thought so! Don't get many customers this time of night on a Tuesday. Come on in!" He practically leered at Angel as the vampire walked inside the shop.

The smell hit Angel like a hammer to the midsection. Sex. Lots and lots of it, all different types. male and female-mostly human, but a few others sprinkled in there. The odor would've been stale, except that it was so overpowering he couldn't tell. Faint chemical traces, from lubricant, liquid latex, condoms, and other such things wafted through the scent of copulation. Yup, this was a sex shop. From the smell, it was a full-service place too.

"So, whaddaya think?" The man asked, waving his hands around. "I've got everything-videos and DVDs, toys you wouldn't even begin to imagine. and shows too!"

"Shows?" Angel murmured helplessly. He thought it was a checkout counter position.

"Yeah," The man said, nodding. "Got a bunch of booths, some dancers that come in, you know? Tits, ass. mostly ass, but some tit." He continued, making suggestive motions with his hands. "All behind glass, no touching." He walked around a counter and leaned up against it. "So, can you run a register?"

Angel glanced at the register. It was covered in plastic and looked older than Fred. "Yeah," He replied. "But. what other responsibilities are there?" /Huh? Responsibilities? Am I actually thinking about taking this job? I mean, it does pay well-twice what the other places do, but it's a porn shop!/

"Watch the customers-most of 'em are fine, but a few have sticky fingers instead of slippery ones," He said with a chuckle. "I've got someone else to clean out the rooms. You'd be doing the register-just running people up, not doing it really--, watching the shop. you keep in good shape?" He asked curiously.

"I can hold my own," Angel said. He admitted to himself that he had decided to take the job, gods help him.

"Good. I like having someone here in case somebody gets adventurous. The dancers come in through the back, and leave that way too. Never had many problems, but once in a while. Oh, I'm Vince," The man added, introducing himself.

Angel ignored his outstretched hand. "Riley Finn." Well, Wil had told him to to use his real name, since it was so memorable. Hells, Vince would've thought it was some sort of sex-worker handle.

"Riley Finn, eh?" Vince repeated. "Nice. Riley. The regulars are gonna love you. Pretty face, nice body." The middle-aged man's face turned hard. "Don't turn any tricks around here. Don't even schedule them. I find out you're even thinking about it, you're out on that tight little ass of yours." He sighed tiredly. "Don't care if you get your rocks off for free, but money changes hands and it's sayonara. Cops hate me, you know?'

Angel just nodded. He wasn't planning on making any side money. "Not into the trade."

Vince gave him another long look. "Too bad. You'd make a killing."

/Until Wil found out. Then he'd kill me,/ Angel thought to himself. "When do I start?"

"A man after my own heart. Tomorrow?" Vince suggested. "And I'm guessing there's a lot of paperwork you don't want to do, eh?"

"I'd rather not," Angel admitted.

"I'll see what I can do," The other man replied. His next words were cut off by the tinkling of a bell over the shop's door. Vince glanced over at the incoming customer. "Barney!"

"Hey, Vin," Barney said, nodding to Angel. "New stuff today?"

"Never gets here 'til Thursday," Vince replied. "You know that. But Chris is dancing tonight, so."

"Uh huh," Barney mumbled. "Excuse me," He muttered to Angel, pushing by the vampire.

"Hey, Barney! Be nice, this is the new guy!" Vince announced to his regular customer.

"Dancer?" Barney asked, checking out Angel's attributes.

"Nah, yard-boy," Vince retorted. "Hands off."

"I know, I know," Barney said. "See ya 'round, new boy."

Angel nodded silently, wondering what he'd gotten himself into, and whether the others would ever let him live this down.

*****
Part 70:

Angel sat in the car for a long time after he'd killed the engine, staring at the farmhouse with something akin to terror in his eyes. How was he going to explain this to the others? It wasn't that working at an adult video store was really that offensive to him. well, it was, but not for moral reasons. He found the smell annoying. But the others. how would they react? Could he stand living with the jokes and innuendo for several years, without killing one or more of them? Of course, he didn't have to keep this job that long; once they'd gotten themselves better settled he could always find another. Yeah, that's what he'd tell them.

Steeling himself for whatever reactions were about to hit him, Angel got out of the car and approached the house. Everyone except Fred would be there; she was working at the grocery store as a check-out girl. The dark vampire unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Once he'd locked the door again, he simply stood in the entranceway and waited. He was soaked in pheromones and all of his housemates would be able to smell it.

Sure enough, he didn't stay alone for long. "Geez, Angel, you smell like." Xander said as he barreled out of the living room. The Raphe got closer, sniffing Angel's clothes. "Wow, you had fun tonight! But, uh, weren't you supposed to get a job? And does Wil know about this?"

"Know about what?" Wil asked as he walked down the hall. "Angel, why do you reek of."

"I got a job," Angel muttered. Wesley, Gunn and Oz appeared out of the computer room.

"I know we need the money, man, but you don't have to turn tricks," Gunn said seriously. "We aren't that desperate."

"Angel, what kind of job did you get, that makes you smell like a brothel?" Wil demanded. He wasn't angry-yet-but he didn't like smelling dozens of other people on his lover.

"Who's working in a brothel?" Cordelia asked as she walked down the stairs. "Angel? Uh.had a good night, did you?"

Angel scowled. "Cashier at a video store."

Oz cocked an eyebrow. "Video store?"

"Video store," Angel confirmed.

Xander's eyes widened. "As in 'painted bright yellow, must have proof of age before entering' video store?"

"That kind, yes," Angel muttered.

"And why, pray tell, did you choose to gain employment at an adult video store?" Wesley inquired, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smirk.

"It pays well," Angel replied. "And Wil told me to get a job that didn't require talking to people."

"I thought you mentioned a nursing home," Wil asked. "And some convenience stores."

"Convenience store burned down," Angel said. "And the nursing home smelled worse than this."

"Uh, I don't think anything can smell worse than-" Xander began, but Angel cut him off.

"Death, feces, urine, open bed sores, phlegm," Angel rattled off.

"Pheromones are good," Xander admitted. "Even stale ones."

Cordelia grinned. "Well, I think it's great!" When everyone looked at her like she was crazy, she continued. "Come on, guys! The only reason this place doesn't already smell like a cat house is because we haven't been here very long. And besides, I bet he gets a discount on rentals."

"You do get a discount, right?" Xander inquired, ignoring Wesley's glare.

Angel shuffled. "Half off videos, fifteen percent off merchandise, ten percent off shows."

"Shows?" Wil murmured. "A video store with shows?"

"Merchandise?" Xander echoed. "What kind of merchandise?"

Angel shook his head. "Yes, a video store with peep shows and merchandise. But it pays well. And," He added as an afterthought, "I'm not allowed to turn tricks at work."

Wil growled. "You'd better not."

An evil grin played around the edges of Angel's mouth. "Nope, I can't charge a dime." He headed for the kitchen to heat up some blood. After that, he was going straight to the laundry room.

"But you can still fuck for free, right?" Xander called out as Angel disappeared.

"Of course," Angel replied from the kitchen.

Wil's eyes flashed and he growled at Xander. Then he stopped and grinned. "You know, this job is."

"Rife with opportunities to humiliate Angel?" Wesley finished for the vampire.

"Among other things," Wil conceded. "It should definitely make for interesting conversation."

"I can see it now," Cordelia said, taking a seat on the stairs. "'And what does your group do?' 'Oh, four of us spend all our time attempting to bring down a major player on the 'bad' side of the good vs. evil fight, one of us is a check-out girl at a grocery store, one of us is a librarian, one of us sells jeans at the Gap, and our fearless leader sells porn and sex toys!'"

"Adult entertainment," Xander corrected. "And sexual pleasure enhancers."

"Don't forget the therapeutic technique demonstrations," Oz added.

"Ah," Wesley murmured. "I forget how very important language is in these issues."

"Yup," Xander replied with a smile. "It's not a sin, it's an important service to society."

"Shut up," Angel called from the laundry room. "Please. I'm going to be hearing about this for the rest of eternity, so could you give it a rest for tonight?"

"Aww, you're no fun!" Xander shouted back. "I mean. Angel, you're working in a sex shop!"

Angel reappeared in the hallway, clothed only in a towel. a very small towel. "And what's so wrong with that?" Angel asked the Raphe. "Or don't you like pornography and sex toys?"

Xander blushed and bit his lip. "Er, no, I like both just fine. But, ah. you're a warrior for the good guys!"

The dark vampire frowned at Xander. "So? They never said anything about sex being a bad thing."

Wil grinned. He had to hand it to Angel, the vampire was doing very well considering the situation. How many men could walk around their house in nothing but a towel, defending their new job at a sex shop? "He's got a point, Xander. It's just a job, and not a bad one at that."

"Huh?" Xander grunted.

"He's making money and not breaking any laws," Wil replied. "And he gets discounts on things you might actually want. Fred will already be providing us with food and whatnot. Or would you rather he get you another discount at some chain store?"

Angel laughed and turned to walk down the hall. "I'm taking a shower. You guys can fight it out."

���...�...�...�...���

Wil left the others standing around in the entranceway, joking about Angel's new job. The blonde vampire returned to his and Angel's bedroom, which was in the attic. He figured that Angel would want to talk once he got done scrubbing himself raw. As he'd predicted, the dark vampire showed up a few minutes later, not the least bit surprised to find Wil waiting for him.

"Do you have a problem with it?" Angel asked as he pulled out some clean clothes.

Wil shook his head. "No. Actually, it's a very good choice. Even if Wolfram & Hart have begun to suspect that we survived and are working against them, they would never look for you- or any of us- in that type of job."

"So you're not going to mind me coming home every morning smelling like dozens of strangers?" Angel inquired. He sat on the bed next to Wil, placing his clothes nex to him.

"Mind? Perhaps, but that is easily overcome," Wil murmured.

"How so?" Angel asked curiously. He could put up with the others' joking as long as Wil was happy.

"I'll just fuck you through the mattress every day," The blonde replied evenly, staring at Angel's still-naked body. "So you don't forget."

"Forget?" Angel echoed. "As if I could- "

Angel was cut off by Wil, who grabbed him and pushed him flat onto the bed. The blonde covered his Sire, kissing him roughly as his slender hands began to stroke and pull, eliciting a shriek of surprised from Angel. "I don't care where you work," Wil hissed into Angel's ear. One hand wrapped around Angel's cock, squeezing firmly. "Or how many people look at you, or how often they fuck around you, or how many sex shows you watch." The hand began to move and Angel thrust up to meet every motion. Wil leaned down to run his tongue over Angel's neck. "Just so long as you remember to come home, and who you're coming home to."

"Can't forget," Angel gasped as he twisted under Wil.

Wil's hand tightened again. "Damned right you won't," He snarled. "You'll think of this every night, while your customers jack off in their little rooms and rent sticky videos and try to figure out how to use the liquid latex," He continued, letting his free hand drift lower. Wil shifted to straddle Angel, lining up their cocks. He released Angel's erection and began to thrust, rubbing their bodies together. "And you can tell them how to paint their lovers with it, and remind them to use some spray cleaner on the videocassettes," Wil said harshly. "And all those pheromones will make you hard, as hard as you are now, and you'll have to look at all those pictures, and you'll get harder," He muttered brokenly. Angel panted and thrust, relishing the feel of Wil's cock sliding against his own. "But you'll have to wait for release, until you come home. Then I'll strip you down and replace the foul odor of their desire with ours, hm?" The blonde suggested, moving faster and faster.

"Y-yes," Angel keened, his hands reaching up to press Wil down as he came, hard, against the blonde. Wil thrust a few more times before joining him in ecstasy.

"And you'll be doing a lot of laundry," Wil commented when they'd both recovered a bit.

"Huh?" Angel grunted. Wil held up Angel's clean clothes, which were now spotted with semen from their activities. "Shit."

One of Wil's eyebrows rose. "Not exactly, love. But I still wouldn't wear it downstairs."

���...�...�...�...���

"I guess Wil really isn't upset about Angel's new job," Xander commented when he heard Angel scream.

"Why would he?" Oz asked his lover.

"Er, because Angel's working in a store full of pornography and horny people?" Xander replied.

"Ah," Oz murmured. "So you wouldn't like it if I got a job there?"

Xander stared at Oz. "No!"

"You wouldn't want me coming home every day horny and desperate, ready to throw your down on the floor and fuck you senseless?" Oz inquired, not looking up from the computer screen.

Xander frowned. He hadn't thought of it that way. "Would it really make you."

"Imagine spending eight hours in a little room full of pheromones, Xander," Oz said. "And lots and lots of classic jerk-off props."

"Oh," Xander mumbled. "So Wil's not upset because he's gonna be getting a lot for the next little while?"

Oz shrugged. "I wouldn't be mad if you got a job there."

Xander threw a wadded up napkin at the werewolf. "I think we fuck often enough, thank you."

"I guess," Oz replied.

"You guess? Twice a day, three or four times a day on the weekends? You can barely stand on Monday!" Xander exclaimed.

"True," Oz murmured. "Did you get that bank account information?"

Xander was momentarily thrown by the abrupt change in topic. "Yeah, here," He said, handing Oz a disc. "The other will have to wait; their computers are offline until Thursday.

"Thanks," Oz replied, taking the disc.

"You really wouldn't mind?" Xander asked again, disbelief evident in his voice.

���...�...�...�...���

Xander was just about to fix himself another big bowl of Kix when someone knocked on the door. He shrugged and got up, knowing that everyone else in the house was either asleep (Wil, Angel, and Fred), working in the computer room (Oz and Gunn), or at work (Wesley and Cordelia). He shuffled to the front door, uncaring of his bedraggled state. Hey, you get what you get at ten in the morning.

"Hi," Xander mumbled as he looked through the screen door. There was a tallish, moon-faced guy in an ill-fitting gray suit standing on the porch.

"Good morning, friend," The man said cheerfully. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Most Reverend Albert McFaddon, of the First United Second Coming Newly Reformed Primitive Baptist Church of the Holy Savior and the Son of God. I just wanted to stop by and welcome you to our community. Have you found God?"

"Cupboard over the stove," Xander said automatically. The older man frowned for a moment, then shook it off, apparently not getting the humor.

"My wife has brought with her a housewarming gift-her famous vinegar pie!" Xander saw no one besides the preacher, until a somewhat shorter, scrawny woman stepped over into view.

"Oh. Um." Xander murmured, unsure about what to do. At the moment, he had a screen door protecting him, but the guy looked like the type to just open doors and step right in. Fortunately, Oz came to his rescue.

The werewolf sidled up to Xander, draping an arm around the Raphe's waist. "Hi, Xan. Who's the company?"

The preacher's eyes goggled at the easy familiarity between the two men. "Ah, I am Most Reverend Albert McFaddon, of the-"

"Baptist church down the street," Xander finished for him. "Came to say hi and give us a vinegar pie."

"And to invite you to join our congregation!" Reverend McFaddon added. "Thou shall not forsake the assembly!"

By this time Gunn had wandered out, hearing the commotion. "What's going on?" He asked as he walked up to the door, leaning against the frame.

"Preacher. Pie," Oz summarized quickly.

"Oh," Gunn mumbled. "What kind?"

"Baptist. Vinegar," Oz supplied.

"Have you found the glory of God?" The preacher asked, his face turning red. He was getting a strong suspicion that the newest residents of their fair hamlet were not the most. desirable of neighbors. First these two men with their unseemly familiarity, and now a colored boy!

Xander frowned. Glory and god in the same sentence didn't set well with him. "Depends on which god you're talking about. I've seen Glory, and I'm really not into that anymore."

"I think he means the 'Sweet Baby Jesus' god," Oz advised his lover.

"I'm good with that god," Gunn told the preacher.

"There's a god at the door?" Wil asked sleepily from the stairs. The others had woken up Wil, Angel and Fred, and the three friends were ambling down the stairs, half dressed and groggy. Wil tripped over a shoe Xander had left on a stair and Angel caught him, cradling the blonde against his chest. Wil smiled and kissed the dark vampire before sinking down to sit in the shaded safety of the stairwell. Angel joined him, as did Fred, squeezing in between the two vampires and the railing.

"Gods aren't bad," Fred commented. "At least, good gods. Bad gods aren't good, though."

"You said it," Xander muttered. He noticed that the preacher looked like a firecracker just about to explode, and his wife's mouth was hanging open. The pie was about two seconds from slipping out of her hands and onto the porch. "So, can we help you with something?"

Albert McFaddon knew, without being told, that he was staring into the mouth of Sodom and Gomorrah. He had to be. What else explained this. mixture of heathens and sodomites and colored folks, and there was only one woman in the entire house, and she looked to be consorting with two half-naked men who were crawling over each other like a man unto a woman, and that colored man was still looking at him with unseemly pride and arrogance, and then there were the two other men who were.kissing? Not one foot from his face? He began to sputter. "The forgiveness of our Lord God is infinite, but you must ask- no, beg- for it! Repent these evil ways! Come into the shelter of the Lord! Be saved before you are damned to Hell!"

"Been there, done that," Angel muttered snidely. Wil winced at the ringing sound of a pie tin hitting the front porch. A faint, sour odor drifted through the screen door.

"What is that stench?" Wil asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Baptists. Vinegar pie," Oz replied.

"I'll see you in Hell, children of Satan!" The preacher screamed as he caught hold of his wife and dragged her off the porch. They left in a cloud of dust, old station wagon careening this way and that.

"You know, it might not have been the best idea to piss off the local preacher," Xander murmured, mostly to himself. "I'm envisioning pitchforks, burning crosses, rocks through the windows."

"Baseball bats to the kneecaps, Molotov cocktails, slashed tires, poisoned wells, sugar in the gas tank," Oz continued.

"Gang banging, lynch mobs, Klan meetings, articles in the paper, eviction notices, jail time," Gunn added.

"We're not breaking any ordinances," Fred retorted. "I checked. And they're not going to be rezoning any time soon. There was this case a couple of years ago. The brothel laws don't extend this far."

"Well, that knocks exactly one thing off our list," Xander replied.

"Could one of you clean up the pie?" Wil asked in his best polite voice. "It is rather."

"It stinks worse than a day old road kill skunk," Gunn commented. "Xander will do it."

"I will?" Xander asked.

"You haven't taken a shower yet," Gunn rationalized.

"Ah. I'll get right on it then."

*****