Angel stood in front of Willow and took in her glazed expression. It seemed to him like the perfect opportunity to talk to her, while she was, ah, distracted by other matters and likely to be a lot less stubborn than usual.

"Willow, I think we need to talk about what has happened, and about what it means, us, the three of us I mean, being bonded, and being mates."

Angel looked to see if Willow was going to respond, but her gaze seemed to be fixed on his throat with a hungry gleam.

Clearing his throat, Angel persevered. "Willow, I have thought a lot about it, I mean the three of us, and I really think that while we are all here in LA, together, we should..."

Angel's speech was becoming increasingly incoherent as the scent of Willow's arousal and her obvious preoccupation with other matters began to work their spell on Angel.

When her mouth latched on to his neck, and he felt her warm, moist tongue lick his skin, Angel's voice faltered, and soon his words were replaced by moans. When her teeth broke through his skin, Angel had to exert what little control he had left to stop from coming in his trousers.

His mind froze as he felt Willow's nimble fingers tugging at his trousers, and the next thing he knew he was buried inside her, his balls pushed against her ass as her legs locked behind him to force him even further forward.

Angel let his control slip away and began to move, relishing the sound of their bodies slapping together as he sped towards his release, biting into his mate's neck as he came with a roar.

He was still purring and sucking on Willow's puncture marks when he realised the limp body in his arms was unconscious.

Angel froze in horror before his vampiric hearing detected a slow and steady heartbeat. He picked up the redhead's light form easily, regarding with distaste the puddle of cum on his car (I really hope it rains tonight) before walking inside, moving Willow's skirt so that she was as covered as possible, although no vampire would be fooled given the scent she was giving off, and marked as she was by both her mates.

For once luck was on his side, and the ex-Watchers were too engrossed in their discussion to give Angel and his burden more than a passing "hello". Angel took advantage of their distracted state to say "Willow's tired", then he headed directly to the lift, taking Willow downstairs to a frustrated Spike.

Although he had been inside for less than half an hour, Spike felt like it had been hours, days even. While he might in his more coherent moments accept that Angel and Willow needed to sort things out, he didn't see why he had to wait here, alone.

(At least I could watch) he thought, as he adjusted his trousers and remembered exactly what he should be doing right now - shagging his beautiful redheaded witch on Angel's poofy car, or even better shagging her inside Angel's poofy car.

When he saw Angel exit the lift carrying Willow, for a moment he feared the worst and was ready to attack his sire, until he saw the steady rise and fall of Willow's chest and heard her heart beating.

Spike rushed forward, pulling Willow from Angel's embrace and cradling her in his arms. He noted the fresh bite mark on her neck, and he could smell Angel all over her.

"That must have been quite some talk, Angelus" Spike sneered.

Then the blonde carried the still unconscious Willow to the bathroom, leaving Angel searching for a suitable retort. Angel heard the bath running, and ran his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes and realising that things were not exactly going to plan. He decided that he had at least learnt one lesson about both Willow and himself: sex and conversation didn't mix.

He traced his fingertips over the mark on his neck, enjoying the knowledge that she had marked him. Whether Willow knew it or not, that was a serious action among vampires.

Which Willow was not, Angel reminded himself with a frown. He thought remorsefully of the bite mark he had left on her neck; it was a wonder the poor girl had any blood left in her veins at this rate, he brooded.

He knew her body was getting stronger; already his bite mark from the ritual, which had only been a few days ago, had fully healed. On a normal human that would have taken weeks, not days to heal, and even then the scar would be clearly visible.

But despite the changes Willow was undergoing she was not a vampire. He was as bad as Spike, Angel decided, all suck and shag. With that thought Angel realised that Spike was even now alone in the bathroom with an unconscious and, knowing Spike, naked Willow. Angel hurried to join them - strictly as a chaperon, of course.

To his amazement, he opened the door on a picture of domesticity. Willow was stretched out in the tub, her eyes now open but looking very sleepy. Spike was supporting her head with one hand while the other moved a sponge lazily up and down her body.

Seeing Angel enter, Spike gestured for him to grab some towels, and together they lifted Willow from the bath and wrapped her in an oversize fluffy towel.

Spike quickly patted her dry then threw the damp towel at Angel, picking Willow up and walking without a word into the bedroom. He put Willow in the bed then quickly stripped and slid in next to her. He saw Angel standing in the doorway, looking unsure.

"Brooding again Peaches? Maybe you should take the couch."

Angel raised an eyebrow at his impudent grandchilde, giving attitude while Angel's mark was still fresh from this morning's encounter.

"Maybe you need to find a more productive use for that mouth of yours, boy," drawled Angel as he slowly removed his clothes, conscious of Spike's eyes on his body.

Ignoring the lack of space in the bed Angel slid in on the other side of Willow, and with the redhead sandwiched between the two vampires the trio fell into a peaceful sleep.

Buffy had managed to do more studying in one day than she had done in the past month, but her mood was edgy by the time dusk arrived.

She hated waiting. She had tried to call Riley but he had been out; ( hopefully capturing that bleached moron and putting him back where he belonged, in a cage at the Initiative) the Slayer told herself. She had left a message but Riley hadn't called, so he must still be on duty.

Buffy had been half expecting to get a call from Giles, but his failure to try to mend their argument had hardened her heart, and she felt no qualms about what she had done.

After all, once this bond thing was broken, Giles would no doubt thank her for freeing him. It was not as if he would actually choose to be with Spike of all people.

And as for Willow ... Buffy hadn't made up her mind yet. She half thought that she should refuse to forgive Willow after everything was back to normal, but on the other hand Buffy had to admit Willow had been a good friend before.

It would probably be better to be generous and accept the witch's apology, Buffy decided, so that Willow would realise what a forgiving person Buffy was.

Buffy let her mind wander in this fashion until brought from her musings by a knock at the door. "Finally," she muttered, opening the door to see what the Council had managed to dig up.

(They must clone them) she decided, looking at the tweed clad man in front of her, who seemed about the same age as Wesley and had an identical pompous expression.

"Come in, come in" said Buffy, waiting impatiently for the man to come inside.

"Ah, I am David Forsythe," he offered, hesitating just inside the door. "I presume that you are Miss Summers?"

"Yep, that's me, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the Chosen One, and so on," said Buffy as she dragged her weapons bag out from under her bed and started sorting through it.

The Council's man looked on in concern as Buffy suddenly hurled the bag across the room. He had been warned that the Slayer was unstable, and he realised that "unstable" might be the best case scenario.

"Anything wrong?" he asked in a calm voice as he backed slowly to the door.

"The book! The book is gone. Damn it! Willow must have come and got it while I was in the shower. What are we going to do now?"

Forsythe decided the quicker he could get out of there and talk to Mr Giles the better. "If the book is not here, I will go and talk to Mr Giles. I may be able to get some useful information from him. And the human girl you spoke of, where is she?"

"Willow? You can try her house although I doubt you'll find her there," said Buffy with a smirk. She gave the Englishman Willow's address, and he promised to call if he had any news, then he left.

(That was a bit of an anti-climax) Buffy decided as she picked up her weapons bag. (Might as well patrol,) she reasoned, knowing that she would feel better after dusting a few vamps.

Forsythe stayed in the bushes outside Buffy's dormitory until he saw her exit. He followed at a safe distance, and continued to trail the Slayer until he saw her head into a cemetery. Satisfied that she would be occupied with her duties for the next few hours, he then headed back to his car and drove to the address he had for Giles.

Receiving no answer to his knock, Forsythe slipped a ring of keys from his pocket and managed to open the door on his fourth attempt. He searched the apartment from top to bottom, finding nothing out of the ordinary - for a Watcher's apartment, anyway. He noticed a light blinking on the answering machine, and pressed "Play".

Forsythe played the message again, a thoughtful crease appearing on his forehead. So Mr Giles had been making inquiries about the Servants of Gaia? It seemed as though there may be something more here than simply the Slayer playing dangerous games.

Pondering the ramifications of this new development, Forsythe drove to the address Buffy had given him for Willow. He walked to the front door, and looked at the broken lock which appeared to have been smashed in with a blunt instrument. Hesitantly pushing the door open, he stepped inside and fumbled for the light switch.

His eyes scanned the interior, which was deserted. There was no obvious damage, and he slowly made his way upstairs. Several of the doors here had been kicked in, yet there were no other signs of a struggle - no blood, no broken furniture. It appeared that whoever had been here had left empty-handed.

So, there was another piece to the puzzle. The girl Willow, who was according to the Slayer linked with Giles, was missing, and it appeared he was not the only person looking for her.

Forsythe walked slowly through the upstairs bedrooms, noticing that one appeared to have been slept in recently, judging from the rumpled appearance of the covers.

He looked through the cupboards, noticing a lack of clothes. Someone might have been staying here but they clearly didn't live here. His search turned up one other interesting thing, tucked into the bottom of the wardrobe: a laptop computer.

Willow woke around 11am, feeling refreshed and strangely cool. The later was soon explained by her realisation that she was lying between her two mates, both of whom had entangled their limbs with hers, making it unlikely that she would be able to get up without moving one or both of them.

Considering her options, Willow decided that she was too sore from last night's antics to lie there and risk a repeat performance - well, straight away anyway.

Instead she wiggled under the bed covers, trying not to make too many sudden movements, eventually emerging at the foot of the bed and rolling onto the floor.

She looked up carefully and saw that the two vampires had simply rolled closer together, and they were still sound asleep - well, probably, it was a bit hard to tell since they didn't breath, but their eyes were definitely closed.

Willow padded on bare feet to the bathroom, vaguely remembering a bath last night but deciding a quick shower would help her wake up.

(I really need to find a way to mesh human and vampire hours) she decided, as she turned on the shower and got in.

Her body was twinging in all the now usual places, and Willow wondered if she would ever get used to having two energetic lovers. She felt her neck: the bites from last night were no longer sore, and when she got out of the shower and looked in the mirror she saw that they already looked half healed. The angry red of a fresh bite mark had faded, and the puncture marks were closed over.

Willow knew that these bites had healed faster than the previous ones. (I guess I'm getting closer to It,) she thought, wondering how she should spend her day until the others woke up.

Getting dressed in another set of new clothes from yesterday's shopping expedition, the redhead realised that, despite her protests to Cordelia, she needed to make some rational decisions about her clothing.

Either she had to pick up her clothes from the dorm or she had to bite the bullet and get new ones. And at the rate her clothes were being stained and shredded, she was going to need a lot of clothes.

(Well,) she decided, (there is no way I am calling Buffy, and no way that I can send anyone to get my stuff without Buffy maybe finding out and following them back here.) So - shopping.

Willow knew that the Buffy Problem, as she now thought of it, would need some action. Buffy had tried to hurt Spike - well, OK, to kill him actually - and she had also told the Initiative where to find him. Willow wasn't sure exactly what to do about Buffy, but she knew she was not going to let Spike get hurt.

Sighing, Willow refused to worry about it. They were safe for now, and she could ask Angel later what he thought they should do. In the meantime she decided to sneak out and do her shopping before Cordelia arrived.

She wrote a brief note and left it in the office, then grabbed her purse and decided she would find out what the limit on her parents credit card was. (It's the least they can do,) she mused, (to help launch their daughter into her new life as a superhero.)

Willow's absentee parents were at that very moment at a hotel in Europe, having scheduled an after hours meeting to allow them to discuss the disturbing message which had been left on Sheila Rosenberg's pager. After a few moments, they both agreed it was a bizarre prank, and made a note to talk to Willow on their return about choosing more mature friends.

Forsythe had limited computer skills, and after a night of frustration he had run out of ideas to try for the password on the machine. He had few contacts in California, and he knew better than to ask the Council for help. It would take a week to get an answer, and it was likely to be: "send the computer to London".

So, considering himself to be a resourceful man, he decided to use the tools he had to hand, and he picked up his cell phone.

Dialing, he waited for a response then said "Wesley? It's David. Listen, the situation here in Sunnydale seems a little complicated. Mr Giles has vanished, and I have a computer that I need someone to, ah, hack into for me. Do you know someone I can trust?"

"Actually," said Wesley thoughtfully, "I do. You'll need to bring it to LA. Have you got a pen? I'll give you the address." And so Forsythe dutifully copied down the address of Angel Investigations, and promised to come immediately.

He considered calling the Slayer to tell her that Willow had vanished, but remembering the look on her face when she gave him the address he rather thought Buffy might already know more than he about what had happened at the house.

Hoping that he would have better luck in LA, Forsythe started his car and headed for the freeway.

Buffy woke up late and groaned, her aching body wishing it had been allowed a few more hours to recover. Buffy flinched as she remembered last night; she had been lucky to escape with her life.

She had been moving through Sunnydale's numerous cemeteries on her standard patrol route when she had seen three demons standing in front of a mausoleum. She couldn't recall ever seeing this type before, but they didn't look that dangerous, kind of small and blobby.

So the blonde went to slay them, as was her usual practice, when the three had turned and blasted at her with some kind of light beam. She had been thrown about 10 metres, slamming into a headstone and falling unconscious on the ground.

She had regained consciousness to find herself alone, lying next to a broken headstone - no blobby demons in sight - with her clothes looking singed and her head feeling like it was about to split in two. She had made it back to the dorm just before dawn and fallen into bed.

Now she was feeling slightly better, and she tried to decide what to do. Normally she would go to Giles and do the research thing, but that didn't seem like much of an option at the moment. So she fell back onto Plan B, and called Riley.

To her relief she got him rather than the machine. "Riley! Did you get my message?"

"Yes, I did. Is everything alright?" Buffy didn't notice Riley's cooler than normal tone, and rushed to answer his question.

"Actually, no. I mean, I met up with some weirdo demons last night, I thought maybe we could join forces tonight and see if we can catch one for you."

"Sounds OK. Let me check with my CO and let you know, alright?"

"Great," Buffy replied, getting into a comfortable position and ready to discuss her woes at length with Riley, who was in her opinion, a first-class listener despite his other flaws.

"Well, I'll call later, I have to go now, bye," said Riley, barely waiting for Buffy's surprised "good-bye" before hanging up.

Riley had been on the team sent to re-capture Hostile 17 yesterday, and he knew very well whose house that was, and who Forrest's mysterious caller had been.

He accepted that Buffy felt hard done by, but when he was faced with the enormity of what she had done he realised that he really didn't know her at all. The Buffy he thought he knew would never have done that to a friend, no matter what argument they had or how angry she was.

But he still had a job to do, so he headed to the Initiative to get the go-ahead for a joint patrol tonight with the Slayer.