(Disclaimers as previously mentioned.)

~~* 5 *~~

"Which one is yours again? Kinda hard to tell with all the padding," Fi said.

"The one kicking the ball now," Xander answered. On his face, Fi noticed the patented 'humoring the teenaged girl' expression, curiously similar to Angel's. "Do you go to many football games? You know, with your Dad's schedule and all?" he asked her.

"Me? Can't stand football. Terribly barbaric." Reveling in her oh-so subtle dig, she took a dainty sip of her water. "My boyfriend, uh excuuuuse me, ex-boyfriend is on the JV basketball team, though."

"Hmmm," Xander replied absently. "Sorry, JV basketball? How's your team doing?"

"Not bad. We're second this year," Fi said with a smirk. "Second to last." Squinting in the sunshine, she watched as one of the players waved and ran toward them, taking off his helmet as he approached. The closer he came, the more the family resemblance became apparent. Tall, broad shoulders, wavy hair. Not at all like skinny Johnny with his short, spiked hair. If this guy'd had black hair instead of brassy blond, he could have been Xander's clone, Fi thought dreamily; keep the amber eyes, though.

"Hey, Dad," the boy said when he reached the bleachers. "I spoke to Coach and he said I can skip the non-essential stuff and the Universal Studios tour since I've done that already. But I have to be signed out by you, okay?"

"That's fine. Alan," Xander said, putting his hand on Fi's shoulder. "This is Fi Wyndham-Price. Fi, this is my son, Alan Harris." He watched and grinned as the two gave each other the once over. I am so happy to never have to go through that again, he thought. "Fi has today off from school, so I invited her to hang with us. Almost done for a while?"

"Yeah. I'm headin' to the showers, then to lunch. You're comin' to lunch, right? 'Cause Coach Martin wants to know."

Xander nodded. "Sure. Cafeteria food is my favorite, especially the jello."

"Yeah, yeah. Rat poison jello. Haha." Alan started to leave but spun back around. "Nice to meet you, Fifi," he said with a grin then trotted off to join his teammates.

Xander bit his lip when Fi growled. She regained her composure and turned to him, twirling a lock of coppery hair around her finger. "So, how'd he get on a football team? He's kinda, ah, puny, isn't he?"

"He's five foot ten, Fi, and only sixteen. But he's also fast and an accurate kicker. Come on," Xander said, standing up and holding out his hand to her. "Let's get to the cafeteria before the team does. They have this amazing habit of eating anything that's not moving. And some things that are." He leaned closer to her and whispered, "And I'll make sure he gets your name right."

"Thank you. I'd hate to have to punch his lights out before the big game."

Oh yeah, Xander snickered silently, so relieved.

~~*~~*~~

"Over here! Sammie!" Bobbie screamed across the blacktop. "Here! Hurry!"

Sam crossed the outside eating area to the table where Bobbie sat, munching on what looked like a cross between macaroni and a traffic accident. She looked disdainfully at the tray in front of her friend before plopping down on the bench. "Could you yell any louder, Bobbie? I was trying to be discreet and demure-like."

"Yeah, right. Tom's not here today, anyway."

"Gah, and I wore my best jeans. Why not?"

"He got attacked last night."

"No way!" Sam waited until the music teacher passed on her way to break up a fight. "What happened?" she asked in a low whisper.

"I heard when I was in the principal's office–"

"Wait," Sam said, blinking her eyes in exaggerated surprise. "You – the reigning angel, small 'a', of the Hyperion – were in the principal's office?"

"Yeah. No big, okay? Anyway, as I was say-ying." She stopped while the music teacher passed again, escorting one of the eighth graders inside, and Sam opened her lunch. "Tom was shootin' hoops on school grounds last night with some friends. Just before dark, I heard Principal Eddy say on the phone. These guys from some football team started in on them. John Tompkins told 'em to stop and then they got mad. Came over and beat up John, Tom and Mike Martinez. Tom's in the hospital."

"No shit?" Sam slumped at the bench. "You know what this means?"

"You gotta dance with your dad tomorrow? Or worse." She watched the possibilities fly across Sam's face, then struck with her stake. "You might have to dance with Angel."

"Oh, no, " Sam groaned. "Please tell me your mom didn't invite him to come, too? Dad and Angel at the school dance. God, I am so gonna die of embarrassment! "

"Yeah. She said we needed an extra hand, so she bossed him he was coming and to clean up good. Gunn has a date with Stevie and Aesha. Sucks, don' it?" Bobbie leaned closer. "Here's something worse. Ya ready?" Sam nodded. "I heard 'em all talking this morning. That Buffy lady thinks I have a crush on him."

"Gunn?" Bobbie shook her head, keeping her eyes focused on Sam's. Sam's eyes widened in horror. "No way! Angel? That's like…" Sam shuddered. "Ew!"

"Yeah. I know. Like crushing on your really old uncle, or something."

Sam threw her sandwich down and pushed it away, suddenly nauseous.

"So, how do they know these guys are from a football team?"

"Well, I couldn't hear that part so clear, but Principal Eddy said something about trashin' the lab–"

"Huh? The lab?"

"Yeah. They were on the court by the science lab. So, Martinez ran inside. The guy followed him, I guess, bumped into something and caught on fire."

"Like with David?"

Bobbie nodded while she drank her milk. "Then he ran off. But I couldn't hear all that good."

"Wow. Cool."

"Think we should tell your dad?"

"Yeah. Soon's we see him. Gunn's picking us up. Your mom doesn't want us on the bus for a while."

Bobbie nodded. "So, Peta puked somethin' awful last night, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Now that was cool! All over …"

~~*~~*~~

They sat on the sofas which they'd lugged into Angel's suite, waiting for Tara to load the tape into a VCR Gunn had borrowed and was hooking up to the television. Once upon a time, it had been an easy task, but in recent years the addition of a home entertainment system, complete with numerous game consoles (to entertain the children, of course) made it a complicated, time- and patience-consuming chore.

While Angel and Gunn struggled with the various wires, Buffy entertained the other Angelenos with horror stories of their most recent patrols, rife with teenagers arguing while vampires tried to take advantage of the natural confusion of parenthood. Fred in turn told of the group's trip into a world where rabbits reigned supreme and were, in fact, rapacious pack-hunters. Peta, after a night of projectile vomiting, was nestled on her father's lap, holding tightly onto her stuffed animal, a foot tall English sheepdog named Mortimer, and listening to Willow's reinterpretation of the Grimms' tales.

When the VCR was finally set up, Tara pressed play, and faced the group. "Okay, here's what Xander showed us." She forwarded the video until the second quarter when injuries began to accrue in earnest.

"This is the team slated to play the Razorbacks in the state championship on Sunday afternoon. Today's Thursday, and all we really know is which dorm they're housed in. Look closely, because the tape is pretty amateurish." She paused the tape, then pointed to four figures on the playing field. "What we can see is that the demons are around six feet tall, fairly solidly built and," she clicked the play button again, "overtly aggressive." Before their eyes, a fullback was sandwiched and crushed between two players, collapsing into a heap in mid-field. Amidst the groans of sympathy, Tara fast forwarded again, until they saw another player, number forty-three, run over to a cheerleader and flip her over a bench. She paused the tape again.

"David said they had dark hair and looked human. Sam confirmed this but couldn't recall much more about their features. We know they're afraid of fire, since the one ran off when David cast the spell."

"They'll have to blend in with teenagers," Wesley noted. He moved Peta and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Otherwise someone would question their size, stature and the like."

"Right," Willow said. "And since they are only seen on the football field, we can assume someone on the team is responsible for their appearance."

"Maybe I can go and interview the coach?" Buffy suggested. "I'll pretend to be a reporter. I can do undercover."

"Oh, puh-lease," Cordelia snorted. "What do you know about football? And undercover work?"

"Fine! You do it, then," Buffy said, then mumbled under her breath, "'Cause you're so subtle and quiet."

"Actually, I'll go," Gunn suggested. "I'll take Fred with me and we'll try to interview both coaches. Head and assistant."

"Good, but be careful," Wesley reminded them. "So, what we need to do with regard to research is concentrate on demons who look human, indistinguishable from teens, and who are not murderous but guilelessly aggressive."

"Wow, that eliminates, what? Two?" Cordelia sniped. She returned their curious stares. "What? I'm worried and visionless. That means we are directionless, folks. Makes me cranky."

"All that with a helping of PMS," Gunn added, then asked, "Lorne heard anything?"

"Nope," Willow answered. "Nothing of either demonic or magical nature. But these guys, he said, are from outside of his normal circles, so that's not unusual."

"But," Fred suddenly interrupted. "We need to find out where they're making these guys. 'Cause, you know, they don't come outta the petri dish in football jerseys unless they have Rapid-Gro for clones."

"Or a spell."

"Or," Angel said, finally breaking his pensive silence. "A portal."

~~* 6 *~~

"Would you shut the hell up!" The older man, his blond hair buzzed in a number one, strode angrily into the office.

Behind him trotted a younger, much shorter man, jet-black hair combed back off his low, sloping forehead, his large nervous hands fumbling with a clipboard. "But Coach, we need players. We've lost four since we came to LA. And the ones we got are out of control. They're not human."

Coach Dan Johnston, imposing at six-foot four and two hundred and thirty-five pounds, whipped around and stormed over to the refrigerator. "No shit, Sherlock. Look, Ramirez, we have one game left and then I'll have what I want. One game!" He yanked the door open, pulled out an orange Gatorade and slammed the door shut. "I'll go to the warehouse that demon told me about and get new players. Gotta find some goats. In the meantime, you keep these idiots under wraps."

"But –"

"Don't 'but' me, Ramirez. I need this kept quiet. You saw that guy who came in with the Sunnydale team yesterday? With the coaches?" Ramirez nodded. "His name's Harris. He'll be followed by a snotty, little blonde named Buffy and a redhead named … Willow. They're trouble and they'll fuck this up for me. Do whatever you have to, but stop them. Permanently."

"But how do you know they know anything?"

"Trust me, they do. They always did." Coach Johnston yanked open the office door. "You! Number thirty-nine! Get your hands off seventeen's neck! Now, you freakin' maggot!" He turned his attention back to Ramirez. "And make sure these guys do not eat the quarterback."

~~*~~*~~

"Hey, Fif–, Fi," Alan said as he placed his food-laden tray on the table and sat down across from her. "Where's my dad?"

"That guy," Fi pointed toward Coach Martin, "asked him for a 'moment of his time' and he took off. About five moments ago, actually." Alan shrugged a shoulder and began to eat. Fi stared, dumbfounded, as he shoveled lasagna in his mouth at a rate that would never have been allowed at her family's dinner table. She started to ask him something, but curiosity got the better of her. She had to find out just how human he was; after all, she'd heard about his mother.

"You seriously like that stuff?"

"Nah, but I'm hungry, ya know?" He halted his fork's progress and glared back at her, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Why?"

"It's," she said then hesitated. "Well, it's dem– I mean, dog food."

Alan glanced at the plate, then snickered. "Demon dog food. You should taste our cafeteria's gunk." He looked around the room then leaned forward. Fi followed suit. "Just do not mention Jell-o to my Dad. He'll tell you this lame story about how a cafeteria lady once tried to kill the students with rat poison in the Jell-o. Buffy saved everybody."

"Buffy the Slayer lady?" Fi asked in a whisper.

Alan shoved the last of his lasagna in his mouth. "Yeah, she's cool. Everybody knows she's really strong and can kill a vampire just by looking at him. Well, almost, anyway." He noticed Fi's green eyes when they narrowed slightly. Alan rolled his in mockery. "Ohhh, yeah. You got a pet vampire." He began on his apple crumble while Fi played with the silverware on her tray. "Angel, right? My Dad told me all about him," he taunted. "Buffy could've staked him years ago, but she didn't have the heart. Awww. Must have known he was just a big –"

He heard the smack of a hand and the rattle of a tray on the table. He watched as a spoon catapulted off a fork handle into the air. It seemed to twirl in slow motion until Fi caught it and held it inches from his throat, her eyes never leaving his face the entire time.

"Do not make fun of my family. Got it?" she said, in a low, threatening snarl.

Alan swallowed and nodded. "Sure. Gotta warn you, though. That's a spoon. I mean, yeah, it could hurt, but I'm thinkin' not a lot."

An embarrassed flush rising on her cheeks, Fi stared at the utensil, then glanced at the knife she'd intended to use, which was still on the tray next to the fork. Slowly, she put the spoon back down.

"Angel's really your family?" Alan asked when the silence became uncomfortable.

"Close enough to count," she said softly. "At least he was there for us after my Mom died. More than some real family."

"Bad?" He waited for an answer while Fi methodically rearranged the silverware again. "Hey, Fi?" She looked up from the table. "Me, too," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And like you said, sometimes friend-family is closer than blood-family." Alan leaned forward again, a glimmer of mischief in his amber eyes. "So, Caitlin called me. She said you got this plan to get them to let us help out? Because every time I try to volunteer, I get snapped at. Makes no dif that my Dad was my age when he started patrolling–"

"Patrolling?"

"Yeah. Going out hunting vampires and demons. Don't you guys patrol?"

"Sheeyeah, right," Fi snorted. "Cordelia gets these explosive visions with killer headaches, and that's how they know where to go and what to kill. Or Lorne hears stuff at his bar–" She glared at Alan and continued, "A friend-demon, who runs a karaoke bar for demons. Lay off my friends."

"Say what now?" Fi arched her eyebrow in answer. Alan chuckled. "Okay, okay. You ever go and sing?"

"No way! Besides, you gotta be twenty-one. Lorne lets us goof around during the day sometimes. Anyhow, they aren't gonna just let us help. Nah," she shook her head. "There's something about this that has them spooked."

"Yeah, ours, too. Big time. So, what're you planning?"

"Covert reconnaissance."

"Coooool. CIA stuff. What can I do?"

"I'll let you know, but for now, know anything? Been to their locker room or something?"

Alan shrugged. "Yeah, yesterday when we got here. Man, that place stunk! Not like sweat, ya know?" Fi shook her head. "Like, like," he snapped his fingers, "when you forget about some leftovers in the fridge and it goes bad. Some pastrami or something. Like that. Like rotten meat."

"That's really gross. See anybody?"

"Now, that's what was weird. We only saw the coach. He's human. I heard Dad tell Coach Martin."

~~*~~*~~

"But Daddyyyy, you're not listenin'."

"I am listening." Wesley closed the book and looked at Sam and Bobbie. "And I appreciate the invaluable information," he searched for the right word, and smiled, "ginormously. Thank you ever so much for eavesdropping on the Principal's private conversation, Roberta. However, I believe your mother would like to see you about the continuous harrassment of your mathematics teacher. For which you were sent to the office in the first place."

"It wasn't harrassment. It was my opinion. Not my fault everybody laughed and started to cut up. You always say that we should speak our opinion. So, I just said–"

"That learning to use your calculator to figure algebraic equations is not going to help you to get a date in a post-apocryphal world."

"Right," Bobbie said with a satisfied nod.

Wesley blinked and threw a threatening glance at Sam when she giggled. "She's upstairs reading to Peta. You'd best go now while she can be distracted." Bobbie groaned and started up the stairs. "And Bobbie?" She turned around, expecting a reprieve.

"It's post-apocalyptic."

"Whatever."

"Now. Samantha Erin," Wesley started, then took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

"Headache, Daddy? Want me to get you some Tylenol? Maybe give you a neck-rub?"

He arched an eyebrow, always amazed at how his daughters tried to sweet-talk their way out of trouble. Another maternal trait Sam excels at, he thought. "I appreciate the information, Samantha. I truly do. But," he put his glasses back on, "that and this cajolery will not get you out of your punishment. Tara is upstairs with Caitlin, waiting to help you get ready for tomorrow's dance."

"But, Daddyyyy." She saw the resolve in his eyes before he waved his hand toward the staircase and returned to his book. "You are so mean," she mumbled as she stomped upstairs.

"Yes, dear. Absolutely demonic, dear."

~~*~~*~~

"Yo, Xand-man!" Buffy said with a smile.

With a flourish, Xander pulled out a chair for her and bowed deeply, "Mi-lady."

"Why, thank you, monsieur White Knight," she said taking the proffered seat. "Hi, Fi. How was it today?"

Mouth full of vanilla ice cream, Fi shrugged her shoulders and continued with her hot fudge sundae. Maintaining a steady pace on the quest to rid her palate of the after-taste of lunch, Fi kept one eye on the adults and one on the sauce at the bottom of her glass.

"Want anything, Buff?"

"No, thanks. Last night's feast was enough to put me off for a while. Peta's still throwing up."

Fi snickered. "Petal-puss is an expert on barf. Dad says she's Watcher material because she has pin-point accurate aim."

"Lovely picture, Fi," Xander quipped. "So? Did you break into the dorm, Buffy?"

"Yep. Nothing helpful. It looks like your bedroom when you were that age. Stinks to high heaven. Must be the socks."

Fi pushed her glass aside and wiped her mouth. "Alan said their locker room stinks like rotten meat."

"You two talked about the game?" Buffy asked, with a conspiratorial wink to Xander.

"Tch, no. I so do not care about football."

"Sorry, I forgot." Xander smiled knowingly at Buffy. "Barbaric sport."

Buffy returned his smile. "Xander, my dearest friend. Could you possibly go and get me a bottle of water?" She tilted her head toward Fi. Xander mouthed an "oh" and agreed. Both watched as he walked inside the restaurant.

Then Buffy turned to Fi. "Right. Let's get something straight while he's away." Fi blinked and opened her mouth to plead innocence, but Buffy raised a hand. "Stop. I, too, was a teenager. Before the Flood. I can spot the innocent act a mile away, and you have it almost perfected. Angel's bought it, but he's still got that medieval chivalric thing going." Fi sat back, crossed her arms over her chest and glared. "Fi, I'm not here to compete. We've asked for help because we know your father and Angel are the best." Fi opened her mouth again, but Buffy quickly added, "And Fred and Gunn."

"And Aunt Cordelia," Fi said, chagrined.

"Yes, of course. Her, too. Goes without saying. Now, will there be any more problems or will I have to tell your father how you, Sam and Bobbie are threatening me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Buffy leaned forward and stared into Fi's eyes. "You're eyes are turning brown, young lady." The teenager arched an eyebrow and feigned confusion. "The shit's rising, and you are full of it," Buffy explained. Fi grunted and looked toward the restaurant. "Oh, he knows not to come back until I signal him. You're going to hear me out." Fi traced the graffiti on the tabletop with her thumbnail but kept her gaze averted. "Look, Fi, Angel and I are friends and have been for a very long time. No one's gonna take him away. When this is over, we'll go back to Sunnydale and he'll stay here. With you and your families. Nothing will be different." Buffy sighed and grabbed the girl's hand before she could move. "It can't be. You're fourteen, so I assume you understand why."

Fi removed her hand from Buffy's. "Not yet."

"Not yet, what? You don't know yet or–"

Fi rolled her eyes. "Tsk, not yet it can't be. Look, Angel's family. Ours, you know? So, we watch out for him, because that's what you do."

"I'd expect no less from Wesley's daughter." Buffy waved to Xander. "Truce, so that the adults can work out how to get rid of the demons before the game. Right?"

Xander sauntered back and put the bottle in front of Buffy. "So, we're good?" he asked.

Buffy glanced quickly at Fi. "Yeah, we're good," answered Fi reluctantly.

~~*~~*~~

David paused, listened to the girls giggling inside the room, then looked down the hall again. With a sigh, half resignation and half despair, he knocked on the door. "It's David. Can I come in, please?"

"Sure!" he heard Fi call out then giggle. David opened the door and, without a glance around, stepped inside. He closed the door and sat down on the sofa, seemingly without seeing the five pairs of eyes focussed on him.

"We're dressed, ya ninny," Sam said.

"I know." David sighed. Frightened by the apprehensive expression on his face, Peta bounced off the bed and sat next to him. She waited for someone to speak, but everyone was watching David.

"You okay, little brother?" Bobbie asked.

David traced with lines on his palms. "Something's wrong with all this, guys." He raised his eyes and looked at Fi. "Your dad still mad at me?"

"Nah," she said with a snort. "He can't stay mad at you. You're his fave mini-Watcher."

David shook his head. "Not any more. I screwed up that spell."

"You're probably just going too fast." Fi sat on the sofa next to David and put her arm around him. "Look, nothing's gonna happen now, so no problemo, huh? Talk to my dad after the dance. He'll tell you to slow down and take it easy. That's all. Maybe do some more pracs with him before you cast any more."

David clasped his hands together and hung his head. "I don't want to do magic any more. I wanna stop, Fi. I'm not good at it."

"No way! You were amazing!" Sam cried. "You so toasted that guy. Fried his bacon!"

"No, see that's just it, Sammie. The more I think on it, the more I know there was no fire."

~~* 7 *~~

"So, have you gotten anywhere?"

Ramirez paced, glancing apprehensively from time to time at the football players who sat like statues on either side of the room. The air inside the office was marginally fresher than that beyond the door, the definitive sign that those sitting nearby were younger than those changing out of their uniforms next door. By about two months.

"I got players following those people. That one guy, er," Ramirez looked at his clipboard, "Harris, has a kid on the Sunnydale team. He's a safety. Harris is staying in the dorms with the team. The others, Buffy and, er –"

"Willow," the coach supplied, agitation clear on his face and in the deep teeth marks along the pencil in his hand.

"Yeah. They're staying at a hotel in er," Ramirez paused to check his notes.

"God, would you get on with it? And stand still. You're like one of those old typewriters. How do we keep them off our case?"

No longer able to focus on pacing, Ramirez became visibly anxious at this point, eyes flittering around the room, weight shifting from foot to foot, hands beginning to shake. The coach waved him on.

"Kids," Ramirez blurted out. "That hotel's crawling with them. Saw for myself. I overheard your Willow talking to some brunette with huge hoot … ers, anyway, about how different kids are now."

Coach Johnston's face lit up. "Brunette?" He snapped his fingers impatiently. "Name!"

"Er, Cornelia."

A small, evil cackle erupted from the coach, starting the new recruits out of their dormant state. "Cordelia Chase. I'll be damned. Got any kids?"

"Yeah, two. A scrawny boy and a girl. She was reminding, er," again he checked his notes, " Wesley and Angel about a dance at the junior high tonight."

"Wesley?" Coach Johnston shook his head. "Nope. Angel sounds familiar. Dance, huh?"

"Yeah. I had some guys there last night, but they got into a fight and, well," Ramirez glanced at the new players and added in a hushed, apprehensive whisper, "one of them came in contact with dry ice."

"Oh, shit! That's why twenty-three wasn't at breakfast?" Johnston stood up. "Fine. You track those kids, you round up those kids, and you know what to do with those kids."

"Er, kidnap them?"

"Shit, you're dense, Ramirez. Do whatever it takes to ensure me that damned state championship. If they get killed, well, then, hey!"

"But –"

The door slammed, leaving Ramirez in the office with five new specially grown players. Teenaged-looking demons, harvested fresh from another dimension, who would turn into lethal predators the moment they began to leave their larval stage.

~~*~~*~~

"This is a cool place!" he said, glancing behind as Peta doggedly hounded him, the soles of her slippers slapping the floor when she walked. He went to lean against the counter.

Peta placed Mortimer on the sofa and sat down across from him. She'd been looking forward to playing video games with Fi or listening to her read like she usually did when she babysat, but now Fi was spending time with him. Angel had said that Fi should be given space to talk to him alone, an idea which had so thoroughly disgusted both Peta and Mortimer that they decided to ruin everyone's fun. While Mortimer sat stolidly observing the proceedings between the two plainly whack bigger kids, Peta angrily crossed her arms over her chest and glared pointedly at him.

"Sort of like those really old movies my mom used to like," he continued. He walked along the edge of the counter, closer to Fi. "So, where is everybody?"

"Everybody over voting age is out following up leads. Um, well, except Angel 'cause he has the vampire thing going. And all the other kids but Petal-puss have school." Fi turned to Alan. "Mom called her that after she ate some flowers she and Dad were planting. It was funny. Dad took pictures after Mom calmed him down. He went spaz."

"Wow," Alan said with more than a hint of amusement, imagining the little demon now glaring at him with her head spinning around and spewing guacamole all over her bedroom walls. "Did she get sick or anything?"

"Nah. Mom made sure we grew only edible flowers on the terrace. She was good like that, because Peta always tried to eat everything in sight. Once she got a hold of some blood –" Fi heard the thump. "You did!" Stomp, harumph, stomp. "Want me to get Angel so he can remind you?"

"What?" Alan looked between the two, confused. "Did your sister say something?"

Fi sat down on the chair in front of the computer and shrugged self-consciously. "Peta doesn't talk. Hasn't for about two years." She watched while Alan took in the information, clearly sympathetic, then shrugged again. "Well, she can, but she doesn't want to, ya know? But she's really mad about what I said. You can tell."

Alan looked at Peta, who promptly gave her opinion of him by sticking out her tongue. He thought for a second, crossed his eyes and retaliated in kind. Peta's eyes narrowed, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

"Hey, Alan?" Fi asked. He turned around and uncrossed his eyes. "How are you at computers?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "Okay, I guess. Why? Whatcha need?"

"I want to check the database and see what they've got on the demons we're hunting."

Peta jumped up and ran around the counter, pulling an office chair behind her and flinging it into the desk. After sitting down, she placed Mortimer next to the monitor, his plastic green eyes observing every move. Alan walked around the counter and stood behind Fi, resting his hands on her shoulders. Mortimer didn't flinch when Fi blushed.

"So, what's the big? Just open the program."

"It's got a password. I need to see if Aunt Cordy put one some where on the computer. Can you figure out another way in?"

"Computer's an Apple, no problemo." He watched as Fi clicked on the database icon. "Easy as pie. Wi– I should be able to hack into that." He put his finger to his lips and shushed Peta, who then shushed Mortimer. "Scoot over and gimme five minutes."

"Peta," Fi whispered, "Go see where Angel is. If he catches us on the computer without permission–" Fi drew her finger slowly across her neck. Peta nodded then jumped off her chair and patted the seat. Alan winked and sat down, rolling the chair into the spot Fi had vacated. Certain the big kids wouldn't start kissing or anything equally gross (like Gunn and his new girlfriend did once until Stevie and Peta had started gagging – loudly), Peta began her search. She left Mortimer behind as a sentry while she headed toward the basement.

"How mad will he get?" Alan asked as his fingers rapidly tapped on the keyboard.

"Ever seen a full-on vamp face?"

"Oh." He glanced at Fi out of the corner of his eye and noticed that her attention was focussed on Peta's possible reappearance. The desktop picture melted away to be replaced with a database designed to resemble encyclopedic entries. "We're in."

"That was fast."

"You take over, 'cause you'll know how she set it up." He rose from the chair. "Damn, this one's butt ugly. Look at that hair. Well, I think it's hair. Maybe worms? Yuck, definitely worms."

Fi scooted in closer, clicked on the next entry. "See, this one is wrong," she said, pointing to a flesh-toned demon with hairy, pointed ears and no nose. "It has nothing to do with our demons, ya think?"

Alan leaned in closer, again resting his hand on her shoulder as he tried to read the small print. "Say anything about smell?"

"Nah, maybe 'cause he hasn't a nose. But they must have thought it was important 'cause it's flagged. That's why the background's red."

"Huh. So, let’s see what else they got."

"Let me remove the flag from this one, 'cause it also says he's not combustible."

"Can you sort 'em? Pull up only ones with flags?"

Fi nodded and double-clicked on an icon. A dialogue box appeared and slowly the bar filled as the database checked the massive number of entries.

"What are you two doing on the computer?" Angel said as he descended from his suite. "Did you get permission from your father, Fi?"

Fi hurriedly pulled up a file from "Recent Applications" then spun around, batting her eyelids in innocence. "We're gettin' ready to play Helix, Angel. Gunn only put it on this computer so far." She looked at Alan, standing nervously to her left. "This is Alan. You know, Xaaannnder's son. Alan, that's Angel."

Alan stepped forward, sweaty hand outstretched. "Nice to meet you, sir. I've heard a lot about you."

Angel could taste the guilt. He looked into Alan's eyes for confirmation of his suspicions as he shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, too, boy."

Through the mist of surrogate-parental intimidation, successful one might add, Alan barely heard the snarl coming from his right. He tried desperately to think of something witty to say, but felt his voice would crack into a thousand pieces if he opened his mouth. Reliving that particular pubescent horror in front of a vampire, let alone this vampire, as well as Fi, was enough to shut him up forever.

"So, you've heard a lot about me?" Angel asked, reveling in the unmistakable fear now undulating off Xander's son. "Did anyone ever tell you my kill history?" Angel watched as Alan's eyes widened ever so slightly, but missed Fi's emerald irises disappearing behind slits. He inspected his fingernails while he spoke.

"The two deaths I relished almost above all others were the schoolmaster and his son."

Unable to keep his reactions in check, Angel turned his back on them and grinned. Wesley had once spent a Saturday night on the rooftop tormenting himself over a bizarre rush of adrenaline he'd felt while talking to one of Fi's admirers who had taken her out to a movie. Now Angel knew exactly what he'd meant; it came strangely close to the familiar thrill of a hunt. This phase of parental protectiveness could get addictive, he thought.

Feeling that Angel's pause meant he should say something, anything, Alan croaked, "school master?" and immediately regretted it.

Angel turned back around, his eyes burrowing into Alan's. "The local schoolmaster, Josiah Kempsie, publicly caned me, as he was wont to do with children. His son, Jonah." He paused again, watched as Alan glanced quickly at Fi. "His son was a more personal matter. He tried to kiss my sister in public. I gave him extra-special attention."

At that moment, Peta emerged from the basement, surveyed the tense situation, and skipped across the lobby. Slamming into Angel's legs, she hugged him and looked up with an expression of feigned innocence identical to Fi's. Still enjoying his primal play for dominance, Angel smiled brightly, then picked her up. She grabbed Mortimer's ear on the way.

"Aren’t you under doctor's orders to stay warm?" Angel asked, ignoring the other two, one of whom was looking rather anemic. "Preferably in bed?" Peta shook her head. "And get a spoonful of medicine that looks like dandelion syrup?" Mortimer now neatly tucked under her arm, Peta grabbed her throat, gagged and shook her head again. "Right, thought so. Back to bed you go." Angel started to walk off with his bundle, then turned around, grinning smugly. "Alan, your father will be here around five-thirty. I have to get ready since I've been summoned to be Bobbie's escort. Pay extra-special attention that all you do is play on the computer."

Angrily, Fi watched the two of them go upstairs and Peta lay her head on Angel's shoulder. She turned to Alan, and snarled, "You know he's totally lying, right? He's just trying to 'rass you because he and your dad both liked Buffy at the same time. Aunt Cordy says it's 'macho posturing'. So, he's trying to get you freaked."

Alan looked at her and finally breathed. "I think it worked."

"Stupid men," Fi growled under her breath. Quashing her fantasies of revenge, she continued, "Oh, anyway. Let's see what other demons we can eliminate, because it looks like they didn't pay attention to all the information we brought them. You game still?"

"Sure," he replied, wiping the sweat from his palms. He pointed at the stacks of books on the counter and floor. "But what about all those books?"

Fi turned around and eyed them, an air of resignation on her face. "We can sort through them while your dad is here. 'Cause once Dad finds out we've been on this computer, we'll be told," Fi's tone deepened and her accent changed, "Do find another diversion, if you would, please, children."

"Like that?" Alan laughed.

"Betcha ten bucks."

~~* 8 *~~

Wesley stood in the doorway to the Hyperion and watched as the two teenagers laughed and joked around on the computer. The normalcy of the scene warmed him like his down quilt, until he remembered the video, the hospital reports, the increasing number of violent attacks near local high schools and the close encounter the children had had two days before. Things weren't meshing in the way he'd hoped they would, and a niggling suspicion that details were being overlooked kept stabbing at his brain. When all that was coupled with the wind whistling softly inside the hotel, carrying with it a smell reminiscent of mint and nettle tea, he felt a foreboding chill creep up his spine.

"Dad!" Fi yelled out. "Got a license for that lurk?"

Wesley snapped out of his melancholia and smiled. "Very funny, young lady. Actually, I seemed to have forgotten something and was trying to recall it. Although, I do recall my parent-teacher conferences quite clearly, Miss Wyndham-Price. You'll be pleased to know I've very little to worry about. Scholastically. The rest we shall discuss later." He stepped down the stairs into the foyer. "And how are things with you, Alan?"

"Fine, thanks," the boy responded, after swallowing a cookie.

"Splendid," Wesley glanced furtively around the lobby, then turned to his daughter, unspoken questions in his eyes.

Fi nodded. "Peta got her medicine, after Angel caught her 'cause she threw Mortimer at him and tore off upstairs. Then she fell asleep. Angel took a shower already. Gunn called. He's taking Stevie and Aesha to dinner and some dinosaur movie. He must be hoping to score tonight." Wesley's jaw dropped at that tidbit of information, but Fi continued undaunted, "Aunt Cordy isn't here yet with the gang, so if you hurry you'll have enough hot water. Tara called. She and Fred couldn't find anything out about combustible teenagers in the area. And y'all leave at quarter to six. That's two hours and twenty minutes."

"Duly noted, and thank you, my lovely and eldest –""

"Daaaaaad."

"Right. Ever so sorry," Wesley said and started up the stairs. He paused halfway and turned around. "Oh, and do find another diversion, if you would, please, children. We might need the computer."

Fi held her hand out, but bit back the 'I told you so' with which she would have taunted anyone else.

~~*~~*~~

A blue and purple skateboard sailed across the floor and crashed into a potted palm. "Omigod, this is soooo unfair. Why couldn't he ground me? Or take away the television like other parents do?"

"Come on," Bobbie pleaded as she strolled into the lobby. "It'll be fun. Mark's going. You like Mark, yeah?"

Sam grunted and kicked an imaginary rock. "He's okay for a no-brains jock." She flopped down on the sofa and put her chin on the heels of her hands. "But I really, really like Tom," she whined.

"Okay, so Mark'll tell Tom how gorgeous you look. He'll be so jealous he got beat up and couldn’t go to the dance."

Sam looked at her best friend's older-by-three-hours sister. "Think so? Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I'll make sure he does. As soon as Tom's allowed visitors or phone calls." She sat down next to Sam and leaned over. "Just make sure Angel behaves, you know, like a living person. That way no one will be embarrassed."

Sam glared at Bobbie. "We're going to a dance with parents. Who's not going to be embarrassed?"

~~*~~*~~

"Hidee-ho," Willow said as she and Buffy entered. "Who's here?"

"Almost everybody but Dad," Alan replied, skimming through a tome on Adriatic demons. "They're all getting ready for that dance."

"Angel, too?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah, but he's already ready," Fi answered absently. She twirled a copper lock around her finger while she pretended not to watch Alan out of the corner of her eye. "He's upstairs telling Peta ghost stories. So, didja find the hotspot?"

"No, it was a bust. Isn't your sister kind of young for ghost stories?"

Fi sat up and snorted. "We live with a bean sidhe and a vampire and neither has any fashion sense. How bad could ghost stories be? Certainly no worse than the original fairy tales what with chopping off of bits and –"

"A bean sidhe? Really?" Willow interrupted. "In California? How cool is that?"

"Except when someone dies, then she's so annoying. Erin…" She glanced up at Alan, who had a 'huh?' expression clearly carved on his face. "Angel calls her that, 'cause way back in the Irish Stone Age when he was with heartbeat they were all called that. Anyhow, Erin goes in and out of corporeality and wails 'waaaaaahhh, ooooooooo, wooooooo' and no one can sleep. My father claims she prefers the arid weather and that's why she refuses to return to Ireland. I personally think there's another reason." She smiled up at Alan. "I can introduce you, if you want."

Alan shook his head. "No, thanks. One demon a day is all I can handle. Maybe some other time." Fi shrugged, clearly disappointed.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow, then glanced at Willow who tried not to snicker. "We better let someone know what we didn't find," Buffy suggested. Willow nodded.

"Sometimes she's a hundred per cent kid and other times she's a mini-Wesley with Cordelia mixed in," Willow whispered as they climbed the stairs. "Freaky, huh?"

Buffy nodded, then chuckled quietly.

~~*~~*~~

"Don't come in! I'm not ready!"

"Sheesh, Sam," David hissed. "This is important!"

"Okay, but one smartass remark out of you and you're deader than Angel."

The door opened a fraction and David pushed his way through. He stopped in the front of the door and stared, slack-jawed. Sam stood in the middle of the room, in black leather pants and a royal blue, off-the shoulder, silk blouse, arms crossed defiantly over her chest. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, pale copper ringlets framing her face.

"Whoa." David swallowed and tried to think of the right way to phrase things without receiving a fist for an answer.

"What?"

"Uh," David started and coughed. "Nice outfit. You gonna wear shoes?"

Sam tched and sighed. "Didn't you have something important to say?"

"Oh, yeah. Listen, I heard Mr. Ringleby talking to Coach West just when we were leaving science. They found something, a letter or something like that, in the lab. It's in the Principal's office. The cops are picking it up tomorrow morning."

"Wow. That is so totally cool," Sam said, momentarily returning to her old self. "We should tell Fi, huh? Maybe we can sneak in and get a look at it?"

"Sounds good," David agreed. "Anything to not have to dance with Mom."

Sam started to scratch her head, then remembered Tara's warning, "Do not muss the 'do."

"Hey! Isn't Mary MacConnell going to be there tonight?" David nodded. "So, if I tell your mom, she'll get that stupid, mushy look in her eye that says 'oh, sniff, my little boy is growing up, sniff, sniff' and leave you alone."

David grinned. "Still Sam, even if you are dressed up like a girl."

"Yeah, well. I'm not done dressin', so leave!"

~~*~~*~~

"You'd think we were getting her ready for Doomsday, not a dance," Tara teased.

Cordelia smiled understandingly, glanced at her watch, then shrieked at the top of her lungs, "Five-forty! Let's get a move on here, people!"

Unsuccessfully stifling chuckles, Angel and David emerged at the top of the stairs. From their guilty expressions, the joke was undoubtedly at Cordelia's expense but she chose to ignore them and turned to Xander. "So, Fred, Buffy and Willow went to talk to Lorne, right? Because he said that information was from an accurate source." Xander, mouth full of Kung Pao beef, just nodded sanguinely. "Good. You make sure Peta gets her medicine. But be sneaky, because she hates the taste and will run off. And don't let Fi and Alan –"

Fi groaned over her short and long soup. Alan just rolled his eyes and continued to eat whatever was in front of him.

"Xander will be fine, Cordelia," Wesley admonished. He winked at Fi, then followed the shift of her gaze toward the staircase. Sam trailed behind Bobbie and Caitlin down the stairs, definitely uncomfortable out of her requisite uniform of jeans and a tee shirt. He smiled warmly and walked over to whisper something in her ear, causing her to blush and tug on a forelock.

"What did I tell you? Huh?" David whispered to Angel after the girls and Wesley had passed by.

Angel frowned at the pre-teen and smacked him on the back of the head. "She'll punch you if she hears you," he warned the youngster. After an ominous glare at Alan, Angel followed David outside.

"David. Remind me tomorrow to call the city about the dumpsters, okay?"

"Sure," David said while he got into the car where Tara and Caitlin were already sitting in the back. "But tomorrow's Saturday. They won't be there."

"When you're right, you're right," Angel replied. He started the car and turned around before driving off. Tara caught his quick, faint smile and returned it. "And you're right, Sam does look like a real girl."

~~*~~*~~

"Hey!" Cordelia said, snapping her fingers in front of Wesley's face but failing to get a response. "What’s with you?" She followed his eyes to the crowd on the dance floor, then grinned. "Awww, your middle child is growing up. Isn't that–"

"Pardon?" Wesley asked, snapping out of his reverie.

"Heellllllo! Your daughter is the center of male attention and she hasn't got a baseball bat or skateboard. Where are you?"

"Should I be worried?" Wesley asked, then actually saw the small crowd as it dispersed and Sam followed a young Asian boy to the drinks table. "No, that's Charles Ng. He's in her hapkido class. She bested him last week in a match."

"Oh," Cordelia said and rotated her ankles. "These shoes are killing me. Hey, what did you say to Sam when she made her grand entrance?"

"I told her she looked every inch as beautiful as her mother." Wesley smiled half-heartedly.

"You okay?" she asked, concerned over Wesley's distant stare. He simply shrugged, then put his arm around her shoulder.

"I've been dumped for some brat named Mark," Angel announced when he joined them. "Where's David?"

"He said he was going searching for Mary MacConnell," Wesley answered. Seeing Cordelia's surprised and confused response, he added, "That redhead from his science class, who got second prize in the science fair, remember?" When her eyes began to tear up, he decided to quickly change the subject. "Good lord, is that song coming back into fashion?"

"Of course! There's a huge nineties revival," Cordy explained, batting her eyelids to banish the tears. "So, tell me more about this MacConnell girl and why is she stealing my boy?"

"Hey, Cordy," Angel interrupted, after a desperate prompt from Wesley. "Before I forget. Can we call the city about the dumpsters behind the hotel?"

"Sure, Monday. Why? Stink?"

"Well, not as bad as outside the cafeteria here." Angel paused as a group of adults huddled in a corner near the fire exit, animatedly discussing something. "Did you fix your car alarm?"

"Yeah, there was some disgusting stuff all over the car. Like someone had thrown something at it. Probably just a practical joke."

"What do you think they're talking about?" Wesley asked, pointing to the crowd, which had increased with the recent addition of the Principal, Assistant Principal and the seventh grade math teacher. The discussion became heated, with glances thrown around the gym and, in particular, in their direction. "They're looking at us?" Wesley groaned. "What did they do now?"

"It's Angel's after-shave," Cordelia joked.

"Well, then it's your fault," Angel said defensively. "Bobbie gave it to me for some birthday I'm required by Roberta-law to have. Speaking of whom, where did Bobbie and Sam go? Weren't they with those boys? Over where Tara's looking for Caitlin?"

~~*~~*~~

"So what do I do with these?" Alan asked Fi. He showed her the books they'd already checked.

"Oh, um," she said, and frowned. "Put them next to that smaller pile with the red and blue marble cover. No wait! Over there, next to the big red one." She smiled when Alan held the books over a large folio.

"So, what's with the pickiness about books?"

"Dad has this system. He goes through them, and then arranges them, um," she paused, thought, then shrugged, "just so. He can get really snippy about it. Not mad, just bothered. Peta likes nicking them to look at the pictures, so he had to make a family rule: 'Leave Dad's books alone.'"

Suddenly Fi stopped reading text on the counter and rifled through the stacks of discarded books "What's the matter?" Alan asked. "You okay?"

"There's something missing," Fi answered. Discouraged, she put her hands on her hips and frowned. "I don't get it. It's not here. He always has it."

"What?"

"This book. It's really old, and ginormous, called _Merck's Taxonomy of Demons, Goblins, Sprites and Other Other-wordlies_. Dad always looks in it when he's stuck on something. He must have forgotten it at home."

"So? Let's go get it," he suggested.

"Your dad can't leave Peta," she told him, shaking her head. "Her fever's back."

Alan shrugged. "We'll go. You and me. I got my license."

Fi spun around. "Will he let us go out by ourselves? For sure mine wouldn't. He'd go spaz. He's gotten real overprotective since Mom…"

"Mine won't mind. I'll tell him we're going for tacos, or ice cream, or something."

She weighed her options, then grimaced. "Sure you won't get into trouble? My house is a ways away."

"Come on," Alan egged her on. "He won’t know. And we'll be back before the others."

"Okay, if you're sure," she agreed. "It really would help. Dad's been even more out of sorts since you guys got here."

"Let me go tell Dad we're going to Baskin Robbins," Alan said as he ran up the stairs.

Fi did her best to ignore the wind as it whistled through the lobby.

~~*~~*~~

"David!" Sam yelled hoarsely as she tried to jog down the hall toward the Principal's office. "Did you get it?"

"Yeah," he answered and pulled out a red and gold sports letter from his front pocket. "Well?"

"That's the team playing us in the championship!" Caitlin cried.

Bobbie nodded. "I heard Alan's dad talking about them. See, the name's sewn on it."

"Man, it stinks in here. Like a fart bomb with bologna," David exclaimed while he hid the letter, then glanced through the fire exit's glass window. "Hey, what's that?"

"Looks like a fire," Sam said as she went to the door. "Yep, someone set a garbage can on fire in the playground."

"Uh, not," Caitlin corrected. "See, whatever it is, is moving around. And those others are just watching!"

David pushed open the door and gestured for them to follow. "Come on!" As they headed out toward the fire, the exit door alarm clanged and the on-lookers clambered over the perimeter fence.

"What if it is a demon?" Bobbie asked, jogging behind him.

"He's toasty warm now," Sam answered. She stopped to pull off the shoes she'd borrowed from Bobbie.

"Well? What is, was, it?" she asked when she finally reached the edge of the playground. Caitlin was standing on the chain link fence, scanning the street on the other side. Bobbie was nervously watching the schoolyard.

David bent down over the pile of ash. "Man, peee--yeeewwww! Hang on. What's this?" He picked up a box and showed it to the others.

"Ice cream?"

~~*~~*~~

Wesley sat, half-listening to Angel patiently explain the following to Cordelia: David, not his mother, needs to find the MacConnell girl; the girls are spying on David's puppy-love – "at twelve, of course, that's all it is" – interlude; David's not doing anything more than maybe kissing her – "Did you I say kissing?" "No. I said talking"; and it's better for David's blossoming male ego if Bobbie and Sam, not his mother, find him talking – "yes, I'm sure just talking" – to the girl. With that white noise to comfort him, Wesley's mind kept repeating what they understood about the case, trying to find a rationale for the increasingly non-erratic behavior of the demons, a reason for the recent concentration around this junior high school. What if the demons are following them? And why would they be?

Paranoia's toying with you again, Wesley, my boy.

"Mr. Wyndham-Price?" the Principal asked quietly as he sat down in an empty chair.

"Yes, sir," Wesley answered and straightened up in the chair.

"We, uh, we have a situation," he said.

"A situation?" Cordelia repeated. She glanced up as Tara came to join them.

"Yes, Ms. Chase," the Principal replied, noting the newcomer's attention wavering to the dance floor. He was certain he'd seen her come in with a young girl. "It seems the vandalism to your car was not an isolated incident. There appears to be a group of teenagers terrorizing people as they leave the building. I just had to call an ambulance for one ninth-grader whose collarbone has been broken and one whose shoulder has been pulled out of socket. Yet another was taken to the ER earlier for a compound fracture to her femur."

Angel looked at Wesley. "By chance, were the assailants football players?" he asked.

The Principal twitched in surprise. "Not sure. We've telephoned the police and they're on their way. But," he sighed, squared his shoulders in an overly officious manner and continued, exasperation clear in his tone, "Some other children have gone outside, unaccompanied, for some inexplicable reason."

"Why do you need our help?" Wesley asked despite the dread that rose from the depths of his stomach.

"Your children left through the fire exit near my office." The Principal stood up. "At some point, Mr. Wyndham-Price, we really do need to discuss Samantha's tendency to be at the forefront of trouble. It really is a shame she can't be as obedient as Fionola."

~~*~~*~~

"Man, am I glad you're here," Xander admitted when Fred, Buffy and Willow came in the hotel.

"What's the matter?" Fred asked.

"Not sure. But I can tell you that Alan and Fi are not here. In their place I have," he led them to the kitchen, "the most disgusting smell you can imagine. Plus, if you open the back door, you will see we are being watched."

"By?" Buffy pinched her nose. She went to the door and looked outside. "Ah. Right. Required bad guys."

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "But that's not the scariest part. We're safe in here."

Willow stole a peek past Buffy. "Okay, what is the scariest part?"

"I've been had." Xander sat on the table and let out a loud sigh. "By my own son." He looked up to see Buffy smirking. "This is not funny, Buff. He told me he was going for ice cream."

"And?"

"That was an hour ago. The Baskin Robbins is just a couple of miles away." Xander watched as Buffy cocked her head to the side. He sighed again. "He took Fi with him."

Fred giggled.

"Not seeing the humor, here, ladies."

"What color silk do you want in your casket, Xander?" Willow asked. "Because if Alan and Fi're doing what we think they may be doing…"

Fred started to hum the death march.

"Fine!" Xander relented. "But can we do something about the demons, so that that stench is not the last thing I smell before Wesley kills me?"

~~*~~*~~

"Hey, guys?" Bobbie called out. "I'm gonna barf."

"Hey, guys?" Caitlin echoed. "Uh, I think we're in deep trouble."

David looked up and dropped the ice cream carton. "Omigod, there's a army of 'em!"

"They're coming for us!" Sam screamed. "Do something, David! Zap 'em with that spell!"

"I can't! That's what I told you! There was no spell, Sam!"

Bobbie stifled a scream as two large shadows climbed over the chain link fence and headed straight for them. Sam pushed her behind David and took up a defensive stance next to him. Caitlin grabbed Bobbie and continued to drag her back with her.

David turned to Sam and quietly whispered, "We are so totally screwed, Sam."

"Duh! Grab something to throw. A rock or something. Or if you have to, aim for their nuts." David grimaced, then watched a small garbage can fly over their heads, missing its target by a yard.

"Sorry! All I could find!" Caitlin cried out.

"Don't play ball much, do you?" Sam sniped. She was answered with a squeak from Bobbie. Sam turned to see Angel speed past her to tackle the closest demon to the ground. David grabbed Sam's arm and jerked her back toward Bobbie and Caitlin and out of harm's way.

As the children – and the diabolic teammates on the other side of the fence – watched, the demon rose to his feet and mumbled something, then charged, head down, shoulder forward. Angel grimaced in confusion but simply stepped to the side and watched him go running past. Arching an eyebrow and shaking his head in disbelief, he made a move toward the children, only to be grabbed from behind. With a grunt, Angel threw his assailant over his back then seized him by the head. With a twist and a snap, the demon was easily decollated.

"Ge-ross!" Bobbie screamed. Then, she pointed wildly and shrieked.

From the right, the first monster stormed again. Angel tossed the disembodied head aside and caught the charging demon, throwing him effortlessly into the fence. He bounced off, readied himself to attack again, and then caught the still cold tub of ice cream that David pitched at him. He immediately burst into a flash and became a pile of ash.

"Okay," Caitlin said with satisfaction. "That was nifty."

Angel looked between the relieved children and the angrily approaching parents. "Wha–" he began, but was cut short.

"What are you doing out here?" Cordelia screeched before she grabbed David and checked him for injuries. "You're going to give me gray hair!"

"We saw something on fire," David answered. "A demon, one of–"

"You rushed out here," Wesley said in disbelief, "knowing that they were demons?"

"Well, yeah, kinda," Sam said with a shrug.

"And, look," David said, digging into his pocket. "It's from the guy who attacked Tom the other day." He handed Wesley the sports letter.

"Where did you find that?" Cordelia asked.

"I, um, well." David put his hands back in his pockets and seemed to shrink. "In the Principal's office?"

Cordelia frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't suppose he just handed it to you, after you asked him very nicely."

"Uh. No. Fi –"

"Fi what?" Wesley said, his voice beginning to carry across the playground.

"I told her I heard–" David started to reply.

"And did Fi also tell you to confront these demons?" Wesley asked, barely suppressing his anger. Tara put a hand on his arm to calm him down. He shrugged it off unconsciously. Angel and Cordelia exchanged baffled looks at his unusual behavior.

"Only if we had to, Dad," Sam answered. "And see, we had to!"

Angel sniffed the air. "What is that smell?" he asked. "It's all over the place. Or am I the only one who notices it?"

"Nah, it's the demons," Sam told him. "Fi said that Alan told her they stunk like rotten meat. There was a whole bunch of them over there," she pointed to the other side of the fence, "until you pulled that other one's head off. Which, Angel, has got to be the way coolest thing you have ever done."

"This is not a side show, Samantha Erin," her father snarled.

"If it smells this badly, they must still be around," Tara suggested. "Perhaps we should leave? Especially since the police are on their way?"

Angel took hold of Wesley's arm. "Wesley, now I recognize it. That's the smell at the Hyperion."

Wesley stared at Angel, then grabbed Sam and dragged her behind him. "Come on!"

"Next part of Coming of Age – Again"