(Disclaimers as previously mentioned.)

~~* 9 *~~

He opened the door and tried to calmly process the scene, despite the primal warning signals pounding in his head. Buffy stood in the middle of the lobby, her clothing plastered with a rapidly drying and cracking chartreuse goo. It was, however, the looks of concern cemented on Willow and Xander's faces that alarmed him. Wesley escorted Sam into the hotel and sat her down on the sofa, with a silent, glaring admonishment to stay put and quiet. He looked around the rest of the foyer, then attempted – unsuccessfully – to make eye contact with Xander, only to be interrupted by Bobbie and Cordelia's entrance.

"Oh, disgusting!" Bobbie cried. She turned to Angel, who was walking in with Tara and Caitlin, with an accusatory glance. "My night has become a gross fest!"

"What?" Buffy asked, as she drew her hand in front of her shirt and jeans. "It's the latest fashion in Sunnydale: demon guts."

"We thought there might be demons here," Wesley said. "May I assume we were correct?"

"Yep," Willow acknowledged. "Nasty critters. Make our swim team look like guppies."

"Pardon?" Wesley asked. "Never mind. I doubt I wish to know, at any rate. Could someone tell me what happened, and where Fi is at this precise moment?"

"Well," Xander started.

"The hot spot was cold as ice, by the way," Buffy interrupted, then shot Xander a glance that clamped his mouth closed. "When we came back, Peta was sound asleep, so Xander led us through the stink to the kitchen and showed us the demons. We decided that Fred should stay upstairs in case they got in. And that Xander and I would go out, with Willow keeping guard downstairs. Xander took a couple of weapons out of the closet. I got to use that cool hubcap axe. And we went out. That's about it. They ran, eventually. Well, what was left of them."

"Did they provoke this?"

"Duh, Wesley. The minute I stepped outside four or five attacked. Sliced one in half, chopped another's head off and Xander clonked another one with some battleaxe or mace, whatever you call it. Then, the rest ran."

"Did they say anything?" Tara asked. "Anything that'll help us figure them out?"

"Yeah, they did," Xander answered. "The one said 'you, maggots' and 'eat'. Or something like that."

"I'm gonna hurl," Bobbie said softly.

Cordelia saw the exaggeration in her daughter's eyes, then returned her attention to the adults. "That doesn't help much, does it?"

"Nah, not really. But we were a bit distracted by the other body wiggling around," Xander admitted. "You know, like a cockroach, which can live for days without its head. Dies of starvation."

Cordelia shuddered. "You're still a very disgusting human, Xander."

"Just a moment," Wesley said. "Is that body still outside writhing?"

"Nope," Buffy answered. "I got too grossed out and chopped it in half. It was trying to get up and run away. Then it sort of burst into a flash and is now dust."

"Guys, I think we've been off," Willow said. "I don't think they're clones, exactly. I think they're bugs. And like bugs, they hatch in large numbers. Maybe they're the maggots?"

Wesley's eyebrow arched up. "Like a cockroach?" He saw Buffy shrug. "Are they protecting others, perhaps?" He glanced at Angel.

"Then why were they at the junior high?" Tara asked. "Can't be a nest, there'd be young ones."

Angel shook his head. "I still think they're brought here, like Fred said."

Cordelia looked around the lobby, then back at Wesley. "Well, *I* think they meant that our kids are the maggots and they're going to eat them," she said. Everyone stared at her.

"Dear God, I think you may be right, Cor," Wesley said, then slowly turned to Xander. "I would have known immediately if anything had happened. So, Xander, where are Fi and Alan?"

~~*~~*~~

"That's it!" Coach Johnston roared. "Now, I'm mad. Five more! And how, just tell me how, am I gonna get five more players the frickin' day before the game?"

The player sitting on the sofa mumbled something.

"Shut up, forty-one," the Coach retorted, then turned to Ramirez. "They're just little kids, how could kids escape your boys twice? Okay, I get the ripping off of the head part, but?"

"Well, er, your friends–"

"They are not my friends!"

"Er, were watching the back of the hotel, and –"

Johnston dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Never mind. Script's been edited. Change of plans. In the immortal words of somebody: Kill them … a lot."

Ramirez frowned. "But that was your plan all along."

"Was it? Oh, well," Johnston sat in the chair behind his temporary desk, then smirked malevolently. He opened the drawer and handed Ramirez an envelope. "Show them a good time, first."

~~* 10 *~~

"That stink isn't so bad any more," Alan said. He closed the car door and set the alarm. "So, like, will this help your dad?"

"Oh, yeah. Thanks ever so much!" Fi hugged the book to her chest. "I can't for the life of me figure out why he left it on the table. He's been so, um, out of sorts. Acting all tense and absent minded and over-protective."

Alan pulled the front door open. "Good thing it’s not nine yet, huh? They'd be really… Uh-oh."

Fi stopped at the top of the stairs and surveyed the gathered crowd. She sought out Sam, and immediately knew something had happened. Knew they were all doomed.

Xander stepped out from behind Willow. "Alan, give me the keys," he said. Alan reluctantly handed him the car keys. "Now, give me your license."

"But –"

"You lied to me. Do it."

Fi put her hand on Alan's to stop him but he shook his head and pulled his wallet out. "Mr. Harris," she interrupted. She quickly glanced around, then swallowed the lump in her throat and continued. "I asked Alan to tell you we were going out for ice cream. I knew you wouldn't want us to go all the way to my house, so I asked him to lie."

"Fi!" Alan exclaimed. "Dad, she –"

"See," she continued, taking a step forward and holding out the thick red book. "My dad forgot this at home, and I knew he –"

Wesley walked up to her, and from the look in his eyes, Fi knew she was grounded for the week. Maybe a month. He said nothing. Just took the offered book and turned it over in his hands.

"You went home for this?" Wesley finally asked.

"Yes, Dad." Fi sought support from Bobbie, who was being comforted by her mother. For what, Fi didn't know, but she guessed it must be bad.

"Do you realize that there were demons surrounding the hotel?" Wesley pressed on. "That they've been here since we left for the dance?"

"I could smell something, but I didn't really think about it," she admitted. Again, she glanced at Sam and this time saw that her shoes were off and that her hair was a mess.

"Despite my repeated warnings to you, you still went out? You convinced Alan to lie to his father and drive you home for a book?" Wesley took a deep breath, then continued. "Did you tell David to steal evidence from the Principal's office?"

Fi looked at David, saw him barely shake his head and misunderstood. "Yes, father," she answered softly.

Cordelia looked toward Angel, concerned, and saw him shrug and shake his head sadly.

Wesley teeth were firmly clenched, his jaw rigid. "Did you also tell them to confront any demons they came across?" Fi chewed on her lower lip. She looked at her sister and friends, knew they weren't hurt, just in a lot of trouble.

David's eyes widened. He had never seen Wesley so angry before, and he was angry at them. Yet for some reason, Fi'd decided to shoulder all the blame. Much as he wanted to, David couldn't get beyond his bewilderment at Wesley's out of character anger to halt the process. He glanced at Sam whose hand had flown to her mouth. Bobbie had started to cry. Apparently, neither could anyone else.

"Fionola," Wesley said tensely.

"Yes, sir," she lied.

"Why?" He waited for an answer, but she gave him none.

Instead, she watched her sister move closer and squinted at her to stop. Sam halted in mid-stride. Awaken by familiar voices, Peta emerged at the top of the stairs. Fi watched silently, through teary eyes, as she descended to stand behind Sam.

"Fionola, I asked you a question!" Wesley's voice boomed and bounced off the lobby walls.

"Because," Fi shouted back, "I just wanted to help! You never, ever let me help any more! Not since –"

Wesley threw the book across the lobby. Cordelia jumped when the book slapped against the floor. "You call endangering the lives of your sister and friends 'helping'?" he screamed. "You managed to drag Caitlin and Alan into this insanity as well! Fionola Margaret, I cannot begin to fathom what got into you! Who the bloody hell do you think you are? Are you even thinking at all?"

Silence reigned as the words echoed throughout the hotel.

Taken aback at what had erupted unbidden from his mouth, Wesley stared at his eldest daughter, watched as the tears streamed down her face. His own hands were shaking uncontrollably, his face burned and his knees threatened to buckle. He took a deep breath, willed himself to calm down and approach this more rationally.

"Fi," he said in the levelest voice he could manage, "Go upstairs. We'll discuss this later."

He closed his eyes and turned away when she ran up the stairs sobbing. The door slammed and feet shuffled uncomfortably behind him.

Congratulations, Father, you taught me so well, Wesley thought. Slowly, he faced the witnesses to the latest in what seemed to be a lifetime of unending disasters. Fred stood at the bottom of the landing, her face showing her indecision: run after Fi or escape to the sanity of her own room. Alan had moved next to Xander and Buffy, below the staircase. He tried to say something but was hushed by his father. Angel wore an expression which, after so many years, Wesley could quickly and easily read as a combination of relief and embarrassment. Cordelia chewed on her lower lip, a gesture rarely seen at all, as she stood next to Bobbie and David, both of them wide-eyed and ashen. Tara had one hand poised delicately over her mouth, the other on Caitlin's shoulder. Willow, too, had her hands on Caitlin's shoulder, grateful she was safe.

Sam took two steps toward her father, then stopped. With a heavy sigh, Wesley turned his head to gaze at her.

"She only," Sam started, then faltered as she began to cry. Peta, unnerved by the extra-ordinary turn of events, moved forward to put an arm around Sam, holding tightly to Mortimer with her other arm.

"Samantha, go upstairs. Peta, you, too." He waited while they both stared, unmoving, at him. "Please."

All, save one, watched Sam lead Peta up the stairs, into their room, neither looking back before disappearing behind the door. But Wesley's head was already bowed, his thumb and forefinger painfully pinching the bridge of his nose. After the quiet echo of the door's latch faded away to oblivion, Caitlin broke the strained silence.

"Mr. Wyndham-Price?" Wesley's head jerked up and he met her brown eyes. "They didn't ask me and Alan to do anything we wouldn't have done on our own."

"Thank you, Caitlin. But willingly participating in this doesn't make it any more right, does it? They both lied to Xander for a start. And encouraging you to sneak into the principal's office to confiscate evidence and then onto the playground at night? If something had happened, we would never have known in time, would we?" He shook his head. "Some risks are unavoidable, but this, this was unacceptable, Caitlin."

She nodded solemnly and allowed Willow to escort her upstairs, turning to look back as she ascended. Broaching no further discussion, Wesley mechanically placed a number of overly large texts on the counter while around him the crowd dissipated, speechless.

Only Tara remained behind. She moved forward and stood silently while he pretended to recompile his research. Finally, he relented and closed the book.

"I know," he sighed. "I handled tonight very poorly. I've utterly shattered my child's self-confidence."

"Is that what you feel you did?"

He smiled wryly. "Have I ever mentioned how much I hate psychoanalysis? No offense meant, but I've spent the past year and a half going to child psychologists with Peta. I've yet to receive a straight answer."

Tara smiled softly. "Well, here's your straight answer: Peta's fine. In her own time."

"But not my other two."

"They're fine, too. They're special children of a special person. But they *are* children and likely to make mistakes occasionally, even frequently. Given their environment –" Suddenly she frowned. "Didn't you ever screw up when you were a teenager?"

Wesley seemed to ponder her question, staring at her blindly, until finally he blinked and met her gaze. "I was never allowed to be a teenager, Tara. I had others' obligations to fulfill, their burdens to bear. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to begin to make my own amends."

~~* 11 *~~

Angel pulled the blanket over her shoulders, smoothed the hair from her brow, dropped a kiss on her forehead and rose from the bedside.

Pausing in the doorway, he made a final visual sweep. The light next to the sofa was still on. Mortimer perched on the headboard keeping watch. Wesley was no where to be seen.

Angel closed the door and resumed his search. He had started in the regular spot, checked for the semi-habitual missing bottle of wine, worked his way through the hotel, from the roof downward, but to no avail. No one had actually seen Wesley since he left Tara in the lobby. With the exception of exit signs and emergency lights in the lobby, the hotel was dark and everyone, present company excepted, asleep. Confounded, Angel continued down the stairs, to search outside, the courtyard and, if need be, beyond the grounds.

He had never known Wesley to leave the girls alone. Then again, he'd never known Wesley to raise his voice at them, either. No matter how much mischief they caused.

Angel was about to step through the doors into the moonlit courtyard when he heard the rusty squeak. Barely perceptible, it had come from the office. He retraced his steps, verified the after-shave, opened the door and entered the blackened room.

Wordlessly, Wesley moved in the chair. Angel walked forward in the darkness and pulled the chain on the banker's lamp. He sat down across from him and waited while Wesley squinted at the intrusive light.

"All my life," Wesley finally began, "I vowed I'd never be like him. But, once again, I became my father. I heard him speaking. " He paused and dropped a pen into the pencil holder. "My voice, but they were his words. Do you know how often I heard those words?" He straightened the blotter on the desk, then looked up. "The pain on her face. Good God, Angel. I made a right royal cock-up of this. I'm afraid my apology and explanation –" Wesley became fascinated with something on the far wall.

Angel withdrew a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and unfolded it. He lay it reverently on the desk.

Wesley blinked and focussed on Angel again. "What's that?"

"An itinerary. Ireland, for a month. It's already planned and paid for. The Thursday after school gets out."

Wesley frowned and looked away. "Who? You?"

"Your in-laws raised the idea. We took a vote. Unanimous."

"I can't send the girls to Ireland on their own–"

"Read it," Angel said and pushed the paper closer. "You're going as well."

Wesley studied the page, then tried to hand it back. He kept his attention centered on the desk while he spoke. "I can't leave for a month. What if Cordelia gets a vision?" He started when a cough came from the door.

"Then I get a vision and we deal," Cordelia said, taking the chair next to Angel. "If we need you, we'll call. Wesley, tonight was, I don't know what it was, but freaky's a good start. You desperately need time off. All that's happened, Wes, it's too much for anyone. Even someone as strong as you." She dismissed Wesley's snort of disagreement.

Angel leaned forward. "Wesley, we can handle whatever arises. Take the girls to see their grandparents. They haven't seen them since the funeral and that was–"

"One year, ten months, and twenty three days ago," Fred said quietly before she, too, entered the office. Wesley lowered his gaze again to concentrate on the desk. Fred shrugged. "They're awfully nice. They must miss you all something fierce."

"Wesley, it'll do the girls, and you, a world of good. Just, think how much they love the, ahem, farm with its manicured grounds." Cordelia smiled, then continued, "We formed a committee. Would you like to see the minutes? Gunn was out, but gave me his proxy vote. He said 'go forth and vacation.' So, it's unanimous."

"I said that already," Angel informed her, semi-indignantly. Cordelia looked at him and stuck out her tongue. He smirked. "You know, Bobbie looks exactly like you when she does that."

"*Still* with the late night meetings?" Willow joked as she surveyed the room before entering.

"Yeah," Cordelia replied. "Nasty habit we picked up in high school. Did we wake you?"

"No, I came to find you, Cordelia. I spoke to David, like you asked."

Wesley's head snapped up. "You asked Willow to speak to David?"

Cordelia gazed at him, his expression like one who'd been betrayed, a child whose best friend didn't want to play with him any more. The same expression David had worn earlier. "I had to, Wes. David said he's felt weird since the first attack. Tired, drained, but buzzy. He wanted to talk to you tonight after the dance, but then," she shrugged, "when you went ballistic, you scared him. He was afraid you were too angry to listen. He needed someone who understands how harmful magic can be if it's not done properly." She glanced at Willow. "What'd he say?"

"We can go over everything later, but essentially, your son does magic without realizing it." She looked at everyone in turn. "You see, David didn't cast a spell. If what he described happened as he says it did, and I see no reason to doubt him, he gave his emotions a physical, magical form."

"So, it wasn't fire," Angel mumbled. "That explains it. Bobbie mentioned a blue light, and then tonight –"

"Fear," Willow interrupted. "A cold, and in this case, deadly burst of fear. But he doesn't know how he does it and that's what has him terrified. That he can't control it."

Wesley put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Cor. I really … I wasn't angry, just …"

"Scared," Tara said, entering the room and, for lack of space, standing next to Willow. "Look, we all are. They're blatantly targeting our children, our friends' children, and we haven't a clue what to do. With your recent, devastating loss, it's hitting you the hardest. That's what tonight was, Wesley. Plain and simple. For you and Fi. Did you get a chance to talk to her?"

"I spoke with all three of them," Wesley acknowledged. "I truly am sorry about tonight. I need to apologize to the others, as well."

"In the morning'll be fine, Wesley. You'll see to it," Fred whispered. "Just take that trip."

"Now that that's all settled and Wesley's behaving normal – sorta," Cordelia said. "About these stinkin' demons. We would have a clue if Fi and Alan hadn't messed with the books and the database."

Everyone watched as Angel shot out of his chair and ran into the lobby. He came back with the books that had been on the counter, as well as the taxonomy Wesley had thrown across the foyer.

"They didn't mess with the books," he said, placing them on the desk in front of Wesley. "We were looking at seven this morning. They eliminated. There are only three with those post-it things left in them, plus the one Fi sneaked out to bring from your apartment." Angel opened the taxonomy and pointed to the demon illustrated on page three ninety-five, where a piece of lavender, ruled paper had been marking the entry.

Wesley took the book and skimmed the details. "From Fi's notebook, all right. And the database?" He looked at Willow, then Cordelia. "How did they access the database, anyway? It's password protected, isn't it?"

"Ah, well. Um," Willow hesitated. "But you have to promise not to tell Xander." They all stared while she had the decency to fidget. "Alan's helped me hack into a quite a number of servers. He's very intuitive with computers, numbers and programming."

"You're sure Xander's his father?" Cordelia asked.

"As sure as I am that someone so empathetic toward others' feelings and naturally gifted with magic is your son," Willow retorted.

"Oh! Cat fight! Merrroowwww," Fred said and giggled. Angel nudged her but started to chuckle as well.

"Ladies," Wesley admonished. "Could we get back to the damage done to the database?"

"That's just it, Wes," Cordelia asserted. "They didn't cause any damage. They rearranged the flags I'd set up on the entries."

Wesley rubbed his temples to push back the headache that had been gnawing at him all day. "Meaning they eliminated some there, too?"

"Meaning," Tara explained with a smile, "Fi's coordinated what everyone knows. What a clever young lady."

"Mother's side," Cordelia explained with a wink. Although she knew the normal retort would not be forthcoming, she was relieved to see Wesley grin for a second.

"Aren't we all working with the same information?" Angel asked.

"But not from the same vantage point." Tara moved forward to make her point. "Think about it. We're approaching all this as adults, as if these demons are adults. What if they're not? What if –"

"Oh, great!" Cordelia screamed. "Demons in pubescent testosterone overdrive!"

"Walking hormones who are testing authority at the same time," Wesley added, feverishly scrounging through the desk while the others looked on. "Fine. Let's reassess this in the morning, but as of now, sleep is a good idea. Especially since the game is the day after tomorrow. Agreed? And where the bloody hell is the paracetemol?"

"The who?"

Angel pulled a small box out of his pocket and tossed it on the desk. "All that's left is St. Joseph's." He smirked. "Should work fine for you."

~~*~~*~~

Angel leaned back on the sofa and grinned. Above him, Stevie charged down the hallway, light saber held aloft, Peta close on his heels, into Angel's room to watch late morning cartoons on the big screen television. Caitlin and Bobbie had found an actor to coo over and were sitting above Angel's head, legs dangling through the rails, giggling over something they'd read in a magazine. Cordelia was defending her title as 'Queen C,' as Willow detailed some of their lesser-known escapades to a delighted Gunn and Fred. Sam was trailing Wesley into the kitchen, begging him to let her go see the latest movie in the Helix trilogy, the series quickly becoming this generation's Star Wars.

After the previous day's events, and a somewhat late start to the morning, the day was shaping up to be pleasant. The only deviations from their unique brand of normalcy were David's continuing apathy, despite a long heart-to-heart with Wesley earlier in the kitchen, and the foul taste left in Angel's mouth from Fi's burgeoning crush on Xander's son. Knowing the likelihood of this respite continuing was minimal, especially since there were children involved and it was Saturday (a lethal combination if ever there was one), Angel decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

Buffy sat down on the couch next to him. "Hey."

"Hey," he returned with a warm smile. "Missed you at the late night briefing. Sleep well?"

"Yeah, I did. Until about eight or so when I was attacked by a stuffed sheepdog. Know anything about that?"

"Ah, Mortimer. Loyal fellow. Very obedient."

"You gave her the idea."

Angel chuckled and nodded. "Yeah."

"Payback's a bitch."

Angel looked around the hotel, watched as Stevie bounced down the stairs, racing a recovered Peta who was sliding down the banister, then both as they tore around Fi while she giggled quietly into the telephone receiver.

"Hit me with your best shot, Slayer."

She gave him a sideways glance. Slowly, the corners of her mouth curled upwards. "Alan's thinking of early admissions into USC," she said with an evil chuckle.

Angel groaned. "Low. Very low."

"Hey, DAAAAAAAD!" Fi screeched after she hung up the phone.

Wesley came out of the kitchen, Sam on his heels, still pleading. He stood in the middle of the lobby and tilted his head, his shoulders slumping from Sam's never-ending badgering. "Yes, Fi? You bellowed?"

"Okay. Here's the thing." Fi took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "I know you're really, really, um, really mad at me and I should be locked in my room until I'm Angel's age." Angel coughed. "But that was Alan on the phone and there's a matinee of Helix Unbound on at that cool, redone cinema near where he's staying, and he invited us all to go. See, he can get out of the thing they're doing today, and the team got these free tickets, and he asked if we could all go, even if you do want to lock me in the Tower of London, and it's a matinee, we'll all be going, except Peta and Stevie because it's PG-13, and it'll be out by dark, and pleeeeeeaaaasseee?"

Wesley blinked very slowly and inhaled very deeply. He could sense Sam trying not to jump on him and beg – again. He could hear Bobbie holding her breath since her favorite actor, Hayley Joe Comet or something, was in the Helix movies. He knew, without looking, that David's fingers were crossed and most likely cramping. He began to shake his head 'no,' when Gunn stood up.

"Hey, English. Got an idea. Fred and I are supposed to meet with this coach guy. The one who went to these guys' high school. Xander, Tara and Willow are checking out some possible hotspot, right? We can take the kids in two cars, me and Willow. We'll watch them go inside, and later we'll pick them up. Bring them back here in time for dinner. They'll be in public view the whole time, right?"

"Except when the lights go out," mumbled Buffy. She snickered behind her hand when Fi turned crimson and Angel grunted in disgust.

"So, how's that?" Gunn urged.

Wesley looked quickly at Cordelia and saw the faint smirk, the almost imperceptible quirk of an eyebrow. Behind him he heard the litany of "please, daddy, please, daddy, please, daddy." Fred gave him the thumbs up. He saw the twinkle in Angel's eyes, which meant that Angel knew Wesley was about to cave in.

He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Fine. Everyone get ready and be outside, in front, in ten. And absolutely no creative deviations from the agenda."

Screams of joy (and relief) erupted in the lobby as everyone scampered and Fi dialed the phone to let Alan know they were about to leave.

"And bring me back adult pain-killers!"

"Take jackets," Willow admonished. "The wind seems to have picked up." Within ten minutes, all the older children were outside the front doors, discussing who would ride with whom. Peta was being bribed with promises of DVDs and video games. Stevie was still tearing around the lobby, contemplating the mischief he could get into once all the others were gone.

Before she left, Tara turned around and said, "Remind me to pick some mint from the garden. When the wind brings the fragrance in … wow."

~~* 12 *~~

Gunn stopped the car in front of the cinema, renovated to reflect its 1940s origins, and waved to Xander and Alan, who stood below the Art Deco sign. Willow had pulled up behind and now stood on the sidewalk to deliver a mini-lecture to Caitlin and Bobbie about staying out of trouble. Sam and David joined them, Sam jumping up and down and looking more animated than she had all week, if such a possibility existed.

Gunn grabbed Fi's arm after she granted Alan her most theatrical and beguiling smile: the one she'd inherited from her mother. It was identical to the smile that used to wrap Wesley around his wife's finger and once, in the midst of one her infamous prenatal cravings, sent Gunn himself on a city wide quest for peanut butter pie. Alan was going to be Play-Doh in her hands, if she kept it up.

"Just a sec, kiddo," he said.

Fi turned to him and frowned. "What did I do wrong now?"

Gunn shook his head. "I feel it only fair to warn you that if he sticks his tongue in your mouth, I've been authorized to maim. Any more and I go for the jugular. Thought you should know."

"You are so …" Fi's eyes narrowed into menacing slits of emerald green. "UGH!"

With that, and a harumph for good measure, Fi joined her sister and friends on the sidewalk. Alan held the door open for them and, smiling, said something to his father just before Xander left to join Willow and Tara. As she was about to enter the building, Fi turned around and blew Gunn a kiss.

"'Authorized to maim,'" repeated Fred with a derisive snort. "You need a new script writer. Too many Austin Powers DVDs."

Gunn chuckled and started the car. "So, you gonna fill me in on what went on last night?"

Fred pursed her lips, then said, "Short version. No hot spot. Came home. Buffy and Xander killed some demons. I was wrong again. Now we think they're bugs."

"Bound to happen sometime, ya know. You being wrong, I mean."

"Turn left, next block." She shrugged. "Happens to me a lot. But, where was I? Oh, yeah. Killed demons. Got guts all over the alley and Buffy's outfit. Some were at the dance, too. Hurt a few kids."

"But not ours? And how many blocks?"

"Ours are okay." Fred looked at the directions. "Five. Why isn't he at the football field? You'd think he'd be training."

"Nah," Gunn said and came to a halt at the stoplight. "Too busy buying teenage football bugs, demons, clones, whatever."

"Oh, yeah! They called ours maggots and said they were gonna eat them. So, anyhow, Wes said they'd been at the dance and the kids rushed out to catch some demons on fire and almost got hurt, but Angel ripped one the demon bug's heads off–"

"Dah-amn."

"Then they came home, but Fi and Alan had taken off, only we didn't know where, and then they came back and Wes blew a gasket and screamed holy guacamole at Fi–"

"Back up, Fred. Wesley yelled at one of his princesses?"

"Ooooohhh, yeah." Gunn let out a slow, soft whistle of disbelief. "He was pale as Angel and shaking. He looked like he was having a heart attack. You know that thick book, the one he used to always use as an excuse to call home and she –?"

"Left or right, and yeah, I remember."

"Right. Well, he tossed it clear across the lobby. Should've seen Cordelia jump."

"No one said 'whoa-ho, settle down, General'?"

Fred chuckled. "Nope. We were all freaked, even Angel. So, anyway, eventually he calmed down and went up and apologized. Of course, we all thought Alan and Fi had, you know…" She shrugged and saw Gunn grin.

"That's it?"

"Left at the Taco Bell, then three blocks. Let's see, then everybody tracked Wesley down and Willow figured out about David's magic. See, it ain't magic at all. It's all David."

"Damn. Give Wes the tickets to Ireland?"

"Yep. Stop! There it is."

Gunn stopped the car in front of a dilapidated building, the windows either broken or boarded up. He bent forward and peered at the sign, then turned to Fred. "Let me do the talking, okay? And don't forget the camera."

Together they entered the disused gym, and sought out anyone who looked like a football coach bent on revenge. In the large open room, teenagers, Gunn counted thirteen, stood quietly in groups of two and three. They appeared angry at the intrusion, but none seemed to be raging homicidal maniacs.

Or monstrous bugs, for that matter.

Now, if they could just find the coach, then they could thwart his plan, save California high school football, pick up the kids, stop at McDonalds…

Gunn wanted to turn to Fred and ask her opinion, but the crack of a fist against his jaw hindered any progress he might have made.

~~*~~*~~

Wesley paced the lobby. Upstairs, Angel played taskmaster, trying to get his room back into some semblance of order after his bed had been torn up in order to build a three-ring circus tent for elves. To her obvious enjoyment, and his consternation, Buffy oversaw the lack of progress. Back downstairs, Cordelia watched Wesley pace and tried not to tear her hair out.

"Oh, for the love of –" she relented and yelled, "Would you PUH-lease sit down."

He stopped in front of her. "I can't, Cordelia. Something in the pit of my stomach tells me that I shouldn't have let them go."

"Wesley, Willow called when she left them. You talked to her."

He sat on the chair across from her. "I know."

"What did she say?"

"They were fine and excited about the movie, packed house, no putrid smells." He shot out of the chair and started to pace again. "But knowing that doesn’t help."

"You're gonna be hell when Fi has sex."

Wesley spun around. "She did what?"

"Nothing. I'm prognostising or whatever. Predicting the future." Cordelia stood up and grabbed his arms. "Stop. You're making me uptight. I spent oodles on yoga courses so I wouldn't be. Oh, look." She spun him around. "Here come Willow, Tara and Xander. Say hello to the nice people, Mr. I'm-so-tense-I'm-stiff." To herself she added, "That didn't come out right."

"Well?" Wesley asked, blatantly ignoring Cordelia.

"No portal left," Xander answered. "But we found something interesting. Is your physicist back yet?"

"No. They're going to go straight to the cinema."

"What'd you find?" Angel asked as he and Buffy descended the stairs. "Oh, Wesley, your youngest is hiding in my closet. Stevie's under the bed. Is it too much to hope they'll fall asleep?"

"Not a chance," Buffy answered with a roll of her eyes. "You big ogre, making them cleanup their mess."

"Well, we found traces of a portal," Tara said.

"Excuse me?" Wesley said. "Traces?"

"Yep," Willow answered with a short nod. "Doubt it's random, more like a portable portal. Made with magic."

"Nothing else?" Cordelia asked. "It's just that the game is tomorrow, and they're so busy trying to eat kids that they're not at the dorm anymore. We gotta get rid of them, but all we've done is narrow things down to two buggy demons who are allergic to ice."

"Say what?" Xander asked. "They're not in the dorm?"

"We called," Buffy answered, "right after you left. Pretended to want to leave a message, but the switchboard said there'd been a fire and they had to be moved to different dorms."

"Great!"

"Wesley, one other thing has been bugging me," Willow started then paused. "Oops, bad pun. Sorry. What's with the mint?"

"Bean sidhe," Angel answered for him. "It's hallmark evidence that one's around. Wes' wife had one who followed her here. Now she's watching over Wesley and the girls."

"Okay," Willow said. "Then why is the smell getting unbearable?"

~~*~~*~~

"You stupid, fuckin' maggots!"

Fred watched, bound tightly to the chair as she was, while the huge blond guy with the military buzz cut screamed at someone with a number sixteen on his shirt. From time to time, she glanced at Gunn, but he was still unconscious, having been knocked into a pole by the punch from number thirty-one.

"Do they *look* like the photos? No, they do *not*!" the blond yelled and then smacked number twenty-five on the head. "I have no idea who the hell they are! Now we have to get rid of 'em!"

Gunn began to groan and stir in the chair.

"Gunn?" Fred whispered. "Gunn?"

"Oh, my head," he replied. "What the hell was that?"

"Number thirty-one punched you, then you hit a concrete pole with your head."

"Oh. Coach here?"

"Yep. He's the one screaming." Fred leaned over. "But take a look at the kids, bugs, whatever in the corner. See 'em?"

"No. My eyes won't focus. What're they doing?"

"Making a portal. And this time, I'm right." Gunn heard Fred gasp. "Oh. My. Goodness."

"What?" Gunn asked then squinted in the direction Fred indicated. "Holy shit!"

~~*~~*~~

"Hey?" Sam whispered as she rested her chin over the back of the chair. "Can we stay until the end of the credits?"

Alan glanced at Fi. "If you don't think your dad'll get mad."

"Nah," Fi answered. "If he was still mad he wouldn't let us come. Besides, won't some other people stay behind, too?"

"Guess," he answered with a shrug of a shoulder. "I just don't want you to get yelled at again."

"Dad explained that these guys seem to have it out for kids our age. He also said Mom always meddled, too, and a couple of times got seriously hurt. All this just brings that back, I guess, and it got to be too much for him. So, he freaked."

"Did he yell at her?"

Fi chuckled. "Nah, I just remember him giving her this look over his glasses and she'd say something weird. Like once she said 'What're you going to do? Tie me up?' Then he'd throw up his hands and stomp out of the house. Mom would giggle and call Cordelia to see what needed being done. Then Dad would call, apologize and ask for that book he threw last night."

Alan smiled. "He called me to say he was sorry, too."

"Really? Wow." Fi looked at Alan and smiled. "He must like you."

"Yeah, right," Bobbie said, kicking Alan's chair. "If you're gonna suck face, you better do it soon. They're going after Chimera. See? They're suitin' up! Quick!"

Fi turned around. "Shut up, twerp."

"Hey, guys?" said David, his voice quivering. "Do you smell that? It just started to stink bad."

Caitlin bolted upright and sniffed loudly. "Oh, gag. You're right. What do we do? Alan?"

Alan looked around the room. "There are a ton of people here. If they start something, it'll be too hard to set up a defense."

"Plus the chairs would hurt like hell if we got thrown," Sam announced. Fi stared at her. "What? They would!"

"I want to go," Bobbie whined. "Wouldn't it be better to wait in the lobby? So Gunn can see us when he gets here?"

"Yeah," Alan agreed. "Let's make our way out. But we gotta stay tight and together. Sam you take the front with Fi. David and I'll take the rear. Don't argue, Cait."

"Not me. Nah-unh."

Caitlin locked arms with Bobbie and let Sam pass. Fi watched until Alan nodded, then led the group toward the doors, noticing as she did the disgusted looks on the faces of those still in their seats. Without incident, but with the odor getting alarmingly stronger, they made their way to the front, into the lobby.

The deserted lobby.

Behind them, the doors to the screening room slammed shut and screams of panic began. Alan scanned the area, then silently pointed them toward the snackbar. Once behind the waist-high counters, the gates closed, he turned to Fi.

"I wish your dad was here to yell at us," he whispered and took in the state of disarray. "Look for cold food, ice, anything to throw at them like you guys said happened at the dance."

Caitlin pushed open a freezer door and tried to pick up a few ice cream bars. "The ice cream's completely melted," she informed them. "Now what?"

"No ammo," Alan mumbled.

"But we had ice in our cokes," David reminded them. "What if we chucked the leftover ice all over the floor?"

"So they can ice skate?" Bobbie whined.

"No, like little land mines. They can slip and fall," Sam agreed and slid open the freezer to her right. "Hardly any left." She began to scoop what little ice there was and throw it onto the floor in front of her counter.

"Toss out whatever's there," Fi suggested while she moved to the soft drink dispenser in the front. "Uh-oh." She glanced over at Alan, who was facing the locked screening room, where the screams were getting more frantic. "This one's got none. Just water. And it's not even that cold."

"Holy shit!" David screamed. "Here they come!"

~~*~~*~~

Wesley spun around and stared at Willow. "What do you mean 'unbearable'?"

"She's right, Wesley," Tara said. "It's getting stronger."

"Wes?" Cordelia whimpered softly.

"But the movie doesn't finish for at least forty-five minutes," Wesley argued. The air around him began to fog. "They're still in a packed cinema. You said 'packed', Willow."

"Angel?" whimpered Cordelia, then screamed in pain.

Angel rushed to Cordelia's side just as she collapsed. Lowering her slowly to the ground, he held her while the vision seared through her head. He sent Tara to the desk for painkillers and Willow to the kitchen for water.

As Cordelia came out of the vision, the wind began to wail inside the hotel and the mist grew thicker.

"Wesley?" Angel asked. He glanced down at Cordelia while she struggled for control. Wesley appeared to be snared in a dream. "Wesley!"

"The children!" he said when he snapped out of his daze. "Erin!"

"No," Cordelia whispered in a raspy voice. "Gunn and Fred. They're tied up. Gunn's hurt, bleeding. There's something, a portal."

"Are they where they were sent, do you think?" asked Buffy.

While Cordelia nodded, Wesley yelled, "Erin has no jurisdiction over Gunn and Fred." Slowly, the mist began to coalesce over the balcony.

"Buffy," Angel whispered at the same time. She leaned down to hear him. "You have got to get Gunn and Fred out of there. I can't; it's still light. I'll go with these guys after the children. There's underground parking."

"Good idea. We'll leave now." She stood and beckoned Xander over. "You're coming with me. You know where they're supposed to meet, right?"

"Yeah. I'll go, but you better do something to help my son, Angel. Wesley's a mess. How's he gonna be able to get to the kids?"

"Wes can do it," assured Cordelia, her hand pushing against her forehead. "He always pulls through under pressure."

"Well, he better or," Xander turned to look at Wesley. "Oh, damn."

Angel glanced up. "Never seen anyone materialize from thin air? Go. Now, Buffy." Buffy nodded curtly and stood.

"Erin!" Wesley screamed over the wailing of the wind. "I need details!"

"You have but a short while," the bean sidhe answered dolefully. "There's danger at that place. More than our children."

"Where are they right now? Right this minute!" Wesley yelled, as he caught the keys Angel threw to him. Tara bent over Cordelia with painkillers and a glass of water. From the corner of his eyes, Wesley watched Buffy and Xander run out the front door. "Erin! NOW!"

"In the center of an open room. Behind machines."

Wesley looked at Angel, who had released Cordelia into Tara's care and was already ready to go. "They moved to the lobby. Tara, stay with Cordelia. Willow, we need your magic. Angel–"

"Elevator's here," Angel replied.

"I want our kids, Wes," Cordelia pleaded.

No one heard her over the harrowing dirge.

Concluding part of "Coming of Age –Again"