He grabbed Giles by the arm and lifted his body back up to a rough standing position, only to smell and see a bit of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Yes, he’d broken something or loosened a tooth, and the smell of blood was intoxicating; it was the best thing he’d ever smelled in his life, sending a frisson of pleasure down his spine. Nothing could be this beautiful; nothing ever had been.

He sunk his teeth into the side of his neck, the skin thin with age easily pierced, and had just drank a mouthful of the most tasty, pure blood he’d had in a long time when he heard voices in the front office; new voices, yet familiar, enough to make him suddenly nervous.

He could hear, as loud and clear as if he was in the front room, Brendan exclaim, “Holy shit, did the Corleones open fire on you?”

A man grunted, and said, “More like Alfredo Garcia’s men.”

The voice was Logan’s. Not good; not good at all. Logan could kill him, even though he thought he didn’t think he would if he could at all avoid it. He thought they were “friends” after all, but he also knew he couldn’t count on that for too long. Logan had a mercenary streak, and if he got angry enough, he could go over the edge.

He should leave now; he was in no shape to fight someone of Logan’s caliber at this moment. But then again …Logan’s blood. He could recall the taste of it, richer and fuller and more …energetic than any blood he’d ever tasted in his life. It was the champagne of blood, a category he’d never knew existed until he sunk his fangs into his neck. It must have had more red blood cells or something; something about its physical construction was different from other bloods, no matter how average it looked. If he could have some of Logan’s blood, maybe he’d feel better. Maybe he’d be better. His mouth watered at the prospect, and suddenly Giles’ blood didn’t seem so good anymore.

Was there some way he could get the drop on Logan?

“He always this scary?” Another man’s voice, also familiar. Xander? An easy kill, and a pleasurable one. If only Logan weren’t in the way …

“He gets worse,” Brendan replied.

“Hey.”

“What? I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Logan made a noise that sounded like sarcastic acceptance. His heartbeat was different than everyone else’s in the office, including Brendan’s and his odd demonic pulse. It had at least five and a half extra beats per minute, and was as loud as a kettle drum. But that made sense - special blood required a special delivery system. “Whatever. Angel around?”

Oh shit.

“Yeah, he’s talking to Giles. I warn you, though, he’s kind of … weird today.”

“Maybe you should take a shower first,” Naomi said. “You smell like a slaughterhouse.”

“That’s kinda why I’m here,” Logan replied, almost sounding sheepish. “I told Angel I might come in today, fill in for Faith since she’s off at a job interview, but I think I’m gonna hafta beg out, since I’m waitin’ to get kidnapped. And, uh, I was hopin’ you guys had some spare clothes here I could borrow, ‘cause all that I’ve got at Faith’s is ripped. I’d go to Bob’s and take some of his, but I’m afraid Hel would molest me.”

There were so many confusing things in Logan’s statement, Angel found himself distracted enough to think about it.

From the long pause out in the front office, he wasn’t the only one. “You’re waiting to get kidnapped?” Naomi repeated in disbelief.

“Why are all your clothes at Faith’s ripped?” Brendan asked, then quickly added, “No, no, forget I asked. How about this one - why would Helga molesting you be a bad thing?”

“I was wondering that,” Xander concurred.

“Faith would really like that, wouldn’t she?” Logan pointed out.

“Ooh,” Brendan replied. “Yeah, that would be the chick fight to end all chick fights. Faith versus Helga - mutually assured destruction if I’ve ever heard of it.”

“And they’d probably destroy you too,” Naomi said, obviously to Logan.

There was enough of a pause that Angel imagined Logan shrugged. “Rocket propelled grenades ain’t picky about their targets.”

Was that a joke? If so, Naomi didn‘t laugh. “Now who’s planning to kidnap you?”

“It’s a long story. Xander will fill you in while I get cleaned up.”

“I will?” Xander asked, sounding baffled.

“We’re not a halfway house,” Brendan gently chided Logan, as he clearly started heading towards the inner office. Shit.

He was supposed to be speaking to Giles, so laying out Giles on the sofa, arms positioned just so to hide his bite (and hide the fact that he was unconscious), wouldn’t fly. It was possible Logan could smell the blood anyways.

He decided his best bet was to get out there before Logan could get in here. He did lay out Giles on the sofa, but then headed out to intercept Logan, pausing to slurp down a mouthful of coffee to hide the scent of blood on his breath. It was disgusting and almost triggered his long dormant gag reflex, but there was no help for it; Logan’s sense of smell was as acute as any demon’s, perhaps more so.

He adopted what he hoped was a neutral expression as he stepped out into the front office, closing the door smoothly but quickly behind him. “Hey,” he began, then reeled slightly, as the thick, overwhelming scent of Human blood hit him, and the hunger threatened to take him over once more. “Goddamn, have you been bathing in blood?”

Logan grimaced, somewhat embarrassed. “Not deliberately.” Although he looked away briefly, his hazel green eyes fixed on him again … and something changed. It was completely behind his eyes - he too had his own poker face - but he’d fixed a gaze on him that was far more scrutinizing than any Humans had a right to be, hooded warily beneath his dark brows, and Angel noted the delicate flare of his nostrils. He smelled something wrong.

As far as he could tell, Angel hadn’t noticed his own smell change. It was far more intense, but then again everything was. And Brendan hadn’t smelled anything different, but then again, his sense of smell was usually more acute when his Brachen side was dominant. Also, he’d come in before he attacked Giles. Shit! Had he gotten some of Giles’s blood on him? Is that what Logan was picking up?

“We should talk in private,” Logan said, gesturing with studied casualness towards the office door behind him.

No. There was still a chance that wasn’t what had piqued Logan’s suspicions. His offer of privacy probably meant he didn’t want to embarrass him, and if he thought he was evil, he wouldn’t have bothered. “Actually, Giles and I are doing some research -”

“Out in the hall then,” Logan quickly interrupted, although his voice remained casual. His heart rate was steady, but Angel suspected it always was, save for certain circumstances. In many frustrating ways, he was the Human equivalent of a demon.

Logan didn’t wait for an answer. He opened the office door and stood there, hand on the knob, letting the ajar door be an invitation in itself. He pondered ways to refuse it, and didn’t see how. But perhaps in the hall, he could get the drop on Logan.

Brendan made an irritated noise. “What the hell is this, the parents speaking out of earshot? You really think there’s something we can’t handle -”

“Drop it, kid,” Logan said, with such weariness it almost seemed sad.

Brendan continued to scowl, but he did leave it be. He still had such a moony crush on Logan that he’d obey him, in spite of his impulse to be a reckless smart ass.

As soon as he was out in the hall, he paced a few steps down towards the elevator and then waited for Logan, hoping he’d turn his back on him. He hadn’t yet. In the office, he heard Xander exclaim, "And what the hell was that about?"

How to take him out. He needed something heavy to hit him with, as his metal laced skull and neck bones meant the usual incapacitating blows wouldn’t work on him, or at least needed to be that much harder. Usually a bite had a tendency to paralyze the victim, to make them still as their lives were drained away, but he already knew that that special kind of rapture didn’t work on Logan. The one time he’d fed on him, he’d punched him away after deciding that Angel had had enough. In retrospect it was embarrassing - he’d let him feed on him, like he was in control of the situation. (Of course he was, but it was mortifying to think about. A true vampiric ego blow.)

As soon as Logan shut the door, he gave him a measured look, his eyes as cool as chips of topaz. “What’s wrong with you?”

Too vague. He needed more information before he decided on the wisest course of action. “What do you mean?”

“You were lookin’ at me like dinner in there. And now you’re nervous.”

“You’re mistaken.” Son of a bitch! He was only acting on a hunch, nothing concrete (unless his anxiety had a special reek).

Logan shook his head, looking disappointed - and wary. "Why are you lying to me? You know that doesn't work."

He huffed out a sigh - a noise he technically couldn't make, but he could approximate it - and finally said, "What do you think is going to happen when you walk in smelling of blood? Hey, vampire over here, you know."

He wasn't buying it. "It's not the first time I've been around you smelling of blood. It is the first time I've seen this look."

He thought they were "friends"; he was trying to act concerned, worried. But did Logan honestly give a shit about anyone else? He faked it well, but he wasn't sure a born predator like him could actually do it. And Angel felt he should know since he too was a predator. Maybe it really did take one to know one. "I'm having a really bad day, okay? Cut me some slack here."

He shrugged a single shoulder, but again it seemed forced casual. "Sure. Why don't we go back in, you get set up in your office, and you stay there until we can figure this out."

Shit! This was the down side of both being predators: awareness of weaknesses. "Figure what out?"

The look he gave him said clearly, without words, "Come on, get real". "Did you know your eyes are starting to turn yellow? You got your Human face on, but your eyes are turning."

Oh no. Angel was sure that couldn't possibly be happening, he had to be lying, but ... he suspected Logan was telling him the truth. If he couldn't control it, there'd be no going back into the office. So he only had one recourse left.

Embarrassing as it was, he kicked Logan square in the balls, and then threw several rapid fire punches into his gut, ones hard enough to cause severe internal injuries with any Human, and then capped it off with a larynx crushing upper cut to the throat before turning and running down the hall towards the emergency stairwell. Logan was as vulnerable in his soft parts - the places unprotected by adamantium laced bones - as any Human, although admittedly the vulnerability didn't last as long as it should have. And Angel found himself with a transitory pain in his knuckles - Jesus Christ, did that guy have six pack abs or what? His stomach was like concrete. No wonder Brendan had such a gay man crush on him.

He was down to the second floor riser when a sound made him look up, just in time to see that Logan, still bleeding from the mouth, had jumped over the third floor railing and was coming down straight for him.

Angel was fast enough to turn out of the way as Logan hit the riser before him, landing on both feet (how did he fucking do that? No Human save a Slayer should be able to do that!), and he spun into a side kick that nailed Logan right in the throat.

Or would have, if Logan hadn't caught his leg instead, and pulled, twisting at the waist at the same time. Angel slammed back first into the wall, hard enough that his head left a dent in the drywall, but since he was off balance anyways he planted his other foot firmly in Logan's gut. Angel tried to pull free but couldn't - Logan's grip on him was fearsome, like he was afraid to let go (maybe he was) - and they both went falling down the next flight of stairs.

Even while falling, Angel tried to kick himself free and did it, but by the time they hit the next riser, Logan was on top of him, and popped a set of his claws which he drove right through his shoulder, pinning him to the floor. It hurt - the metal seemed to burn, as if doused in holy water - and it was an effort of pure will not to scream. He drove his knee up into Logan, aiming for the gut but hitting the sternum, and the last thing he saw was Logan's forehead coming down onto his face. He had time to wonder what that would accomplish when the impact hit him like a Mack truck.

Oh, adamantium skull, right.

It was Angel's last thought before blackness swallowed him whole.

7

Had he heard running in the hall?

Brendan wasn't sure, and figured that maybe Lionel Hutz's air conditioning was doing that thing again. It sometimes made a noise like a herd of water buffalo fleeing his office. Bren didn't know air conditioners - or any major appliance - that well, but he was fairly certain that when a compressor started to make a noise like that, it was time to call in the bomb squad.

He shook his head and focused on Xander's story, which went from a routine missing persons' case to Logan taking on guys at a mobbed up bar all by himself. Logan playing one man army again? Well, it was most definitely a Tuesday then.

God, that man! So reckless, so dangerous, so frightening ... so incredibly fucking attractive. That was it - he was seeing a psychiatrist. Being attracted to men with no sense of self-preservation was a desperate cry for help.

Xander was still nervous and edgy, he kept bouncing his knee up down while he talked, perched on the arm of the sofa like his spine was too rigid to allow him to sit comfortably. Coffee was offered but he turned it down, and Bren had watched as he grimaced at the offer, like coffee just might make him barf. This was too new; he was still grieving his friend, and he was on the verge of doing many things, most of which would require calling in a janitor. He felt for him, he really did. Senseless death was never easy.

"Annoying?" Naomi finally said, looking appalled. "That's it?"

Xander shrugged nervously, wringing his hands together like Lady MacBeth (out damn spot). "That's what Logan said. I think he's holding back on me, though."

"Usually a good bet," Bren told him, not without sympathy. "If he thinks there's something only he can handle, or something you're probably better off not knowing, he has a tendency to hold it."

Xander sighed heavily, eyes narrowing in irritation. He wanted to get angry, to take out this pain on something, and Logan was as good a target as anyone. Especially since he wasn't in the room. "What the fuck gives him the right? How can he know what I can handle or what I can't. I know I'm not some fucking mutie or something, but I've saved the world, goddamn it. I deserve some credit."

"Ixnay on the mutie talk," Naomi said, shooting him a warning glance.

It was clear he'd forgotten Naomi was a mutant too, and he had the decency to color slightly. "Oh, I didn't mean ... sorry."

Since he did seem genuinely contrite, she seemed willing to let it go. “Just remember it’s considered a slur, okay?”

He nodded, then added a salute, trying to lighten the moment. “Aye aye, Capitano.”

Bren shot a glance at Angel’s office door, and wondered why Giles hadn’t peeked out yet. Oh sure, he could get so lost in research you had to remind him to get up and walk before he lost the use of his legs to atrophy, but Xander was an old friend of his, right? You’d think he could hear his voice; you’d think he’d be curious why Angel was gone so long.

Naomi must have caught him looking, because she asked, “What’s wrong?”

The office door slammed open suddenly, and in a deep, gravelly voice that could have been Satan in a horror movie, Logan said, “That’s what I wanna know.”

“What’s wrong with your voice?” Naomi asked, standing up from the couch as Logan came in, dragging something in behind him on the floor.

It was Angel. He was holding him by the back of the collar.

Bren jumped straight up to his feet, more alarmed than ever, as Xander exclaimed cheerfully, “Hey, if you were gonna beat the shit out of him, couldn’t you have mentioned it? I’d have helped.”

“I didn’t plan on it,” he rumbled, his voice so deep and hoarse it sounded painful. Bren finally noticed that Logan had fresh blood in the corner of his mouth, and some spattered on his cheek, mostly hidden by his stubble.

“What happened?” Naomi gasped, going over to check on Angel. He was clearly unconscious, head lolling against his shoulder, bottom lip split, with a very ugly bruise discoloring his forehead. All of it appeared to be already healing.

“He attacked me,” Logan grumbled. “Crushed my larynx.”

Of all the things you expected someone to say, that was right up there with “I just got a tracheotomy”. And yet Bren was sure Logan wasn’t kidding. “Why the fuck did he attack you? And how the hell can you breathe?”

He answered the questions out of sequence. “ ’m healing. And I got no fucking idea why he attacked me, ‘cept he didn’t wanna go quietly. We need to tie him up before he regains consciousness. I don’t think he’s himself.”

He started dragging Angel towards his office, but Xander stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. “Are you saying Angelus is back?”

Logan scowled at him, not yet in a mood for conversation. Was he ever, crushed larynx or not? “No. Something’s up with him, but I don’t know what. Where’s Giles?”

And with that single question, Bren’s heart rate jumped into overdrive, the poor thing starting to kick at his ribs like it wanted out. “Oh shit,” he blurted, scrambling for Angel’s office door.

He slammed it open, fearing he worst, but was somewhat relieved to not find Giles’s body splayed on the floor. Instead he was laying stretched out on the couch, arm flung casually over his eyes, like he’d just decided to take a nap. Bren wanted to believe that, as insane and impossible as that was, but as soon as he was within a foot of him, his denial was shattered by the faint scent of blood.

He moved Giles’s arm, and his head lolled to the side, revealing a lurid set of fang marks in his neck.

Bren was feeling for a pulse when Xander came over and looked down at Giles. He didn’t say anything, but his jaw set in a stubborn manner as his expression went strangely flat, and he pivoted smoothly on his heels, stomping off towards Angel’s desk. Okay, that was weird.

“How is he?” Naomi asked, appearing at his side.

“His pulse is good. I don’t think he’s lost too much blood.”

Xander was rattling around noisily in Angel’s desk as Logan dragged Angel inside, leaving him flat out on the carpet. Since he could have picked him up, his best guess was Logan didn’t want to be carrying him if he suddenly regained consciousness. If he was dragging him, he was in a better position to knock him the hell out again.

Xander came around the desk towards him, holding a stake as casually as a waiter holding a coffee pot, and Bren was still so stunned by all these bizarre developments he found himself unable to react.

Logan, bless his “chaos-is-my-middle-name” heart, wasn’t so overwhelmed. He ripped the stake out of Xander’s hand, and placed himself firmly between him and the prone Angel. “What the fuck do you think yer doin’?”

Even though this was Logan he was dealing with (clothes still riddled with bullet holes and stained by blood), Xander glared at him in open defiance. “This bastard has hurt enough of my friends; I’m not dicking around with him anymore. He’s a vampire and he needs to die.”

Logan matched his glare with one of his own, and tucked the stake in the back of his jeans before holding his hands out at his side, open in invitation - and warning, as only Logan could do it. Few other people could look like they were two steps away from hugging you and make it seem like the scariest thing in the world. “Wanna do that, you go through me first.”

A sane person, one with more than three functioning brain cells, would have instantly backed down, and quite possibly pissed themselves. But Xander held his hard gaze for the better part of a very tense minute, before finally wiping his fist across his mouth, snorting disdainfully, and turning away. “What the fuck is wrong with you? He attacked you, he could’ve killed you, and you’re protecting him. You’re as bad as Buffy.”

“He couldn’t have killed me,” Logan pointed out. Could have been macho bravado, but Bren didn’t think so. He’d always idly wondered what the result of an Angel versus Logan fight would be, and he supposed he had his answer now. But would he have gotten three out of three falls? Well, he did have an unfair advantage with the claws. Then again, Angel did have the fancier moves, and being a vampire allowed him to briefly defy gravity in leaps and flips, so at some point that would have given him some advantage. Wouldn’t it? Perhaps the bottom line was you could be as fancy as you wanted, but at the end of the day, it was hard to get around unbreakable short swords - when it came down to it, you bet on brute force over finesse in most fights.

“Xander, why don’t you help me get some ropes from the war room okay?” Naomi asked, in a way that suggested it was an order.

He sighed impatiently, but conceded with a shrug. “Yeah, fine.” He followed her out of the room, asking, “You guys have a war room?”

They came back soon enough, with cuffs as well as ropes, and while they were trussing Angel up like the kidnap victim Logan had claimed he was going to be, Giles regained consciousness.

He was a little dizzy and bruised, but otherwise okay. Except he was pretty confused, and hadn’t realized he’d been bitten until he felt the bandage they’d taped on his neck. Xander, who’d been enthusiastically tying up Angel, seemed eager to stir up trouble. “He was Angelus, wasn’t he?”

Giles stared at him a moment in confusion - no one had told him why he was here - and cupped the small bottle of orange juice Naomi had brought him (she figured since they gave orange juice to people who donated blood, it would be helpful to him as well). “No, I don’t think he was.”

“Oh, come on!” Xander exclaimed angrily, throwing his hands up as if pleading to a watching deity. “Don’t buy into this bullshit too!”

Giles fixed him with a remarkably stern look, one that made him look like an angry librarian. “I was tortured by Angelus, Xander. I know him when I see him.”

That shut Xander up, although he still didn’t look pleased. But how could he argue with that? “Did he say anything to you before he hit you?” Logan asked.

Giles considered that, glancing down at Angel on the carpet. He’d been handcuffed, his arms tied behind his back, and he was bound at the ankles as well, although Logan had drawn the line at actually hogtying him. “He mentioned something about the Master coming back.”

“The Master?” Xander replied, sounding confused. “Why’d he bring him up?”

“Master?” Naomi asked, and Bren was glad, as that spared him from having to do it.

“He was essentially the vampire king, very old, very powerful. He’s been dead for quite some time.”

“So why mention him?” Bren wondered, scratching his head.

“Who cares?” Xander exclaimed. “It was probably just bullshit to distract you.”

Giles shook his head, slowly but deliberately. “No, he seemed genuinely perturbed. I don’t think Angel has ever been much of an actor; Angelus yes, but he wouldn’t have bothered with such a desperate charade.”

“Before he attacked me, his eyes started turning yellow,” Logan interjected, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice was almost totally back to normal now. He was sitting on the edge of the desk, closest to Angel; if he caused any trouble as soon as he woke up, he’d have to deal with Logan. And maybe he wouldn’t kill him, but he might make Angel wish he would.

This strange detail seemed to make Giles perk up. “He became his vampire self?”

“That’s just it: no. Only his eyes started to change. His forehead didn’t do that … thing, and his teeth were still normal. I’d never seen that before, and when I mentioned it, he seemed surprised. He didn’t know what was happening. And I guess that triggered the attack, ‘cause he was trying to run away.”

“Run away from what?” Naomi asked. She was sitting on the sofa near Giles, holding a bottle of Excedrin. He’d taken a couple, but she’d suggested he take three, considering the size of his bruise. “His eyes turning yellow?”

They all considered that a moment before Giles said, “He’d already attacked me. He’d been trying to pretend he was okay, but now it was patently obvious he was not.”

“And I was trying to force him to get back in here and stay until we could figure out what was wrong with him,” Logan sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “So he attacked me ’cause he was scared.”

“You do have that effect on people sometimes,” Naomi told him with a weary sort of affection, giving him a small, sad smile.

Logan frowned at her, but briefly and not very seriously. He was aware that Logan and Naomi used to have a thing, but she didn’t remember it; she only knew what she’d heard second hand. From what Angel had told him, it had broken Logan’s heart, and he spent most of his time around Naomi trying to avoid the issue. “I wanted to help him. He didn’t want it.”

“Is he going nutty again?” Xander wondered, looking at Giles. “He’s gone nutty before.”

The older man looked into the middle distance while he weighed that option, and after a long moment he shrugged very faintly, a gesture Giles rarely used except in extreme circumstances. “It’s a possibility that can’t be discounted at this point, but it’s definitely different than before.”

“Would givin’ him some of my blood help?” Logan asked, making everybody in the room stare at him like a crazy person. Had he actually said that?

Naomi was the first to speak. “What?”

“Around the time we first met, Angel and I both got dosed with a drug that was supposed to make you violently bugfuck. My system compensated, but it affected Angel until I gave him some of my blood. Then he recovered. If he’s been drugged or something, it’ll probably work again.”

There were so many strange things in that statement that no one seemed sure where to start. Except for Giles, who looked positively intrigued. “He gained your immunity to the drug through your blood? Fascinating.”

But Bren thought he had missed the most important part of that story. “You gave him your blood?”

Logan shrugged, but it was slightly uncomfortable. “I figured if it didn’t work, I’d have to kill him. It was worth a shot.”

So he let Angel bite him. It was so weird to think about it - Giles was attacked and bitten by force, so that seemed like a purely violent act, but to allow a vampire to bite you seemed to have a sensual connotation, whether it belonged or not. And Logan was so casual about it, like giving Angel his blood - letting Angel actually bite him - was no big deal. It wasn’t to him, was it?

He had a minor epiphany about Logan’s behavior at that moment. He really didn’t give much of a fuck about his body, did he? There was a disconnect between himself and his physical self, like many who were chronic abuse victims; maybe he wasn’t so much brave as removed from himself, figuring his body could take the damage or wouldn’t, but either way it wouldn’t effect him. Why would it? His body was a thing apart from himself, a tool that other people used at will. That was just so sad he wanted to go over and hug him - except for the fact that Logan would probably throw him across the room. Still, the sentiment was there.

There was a noise in the front office, and very faintly they heard someone call out, “Hello?”

They shared curious looks until Brendan remembered, “Oh shit - the client! The guy coming in today, the one who’s being stalked by a ghoul.” Talk about the world’s worst timing.

“Oh crap,” Naomi snapped, heading for the door. “I’ll stall, but somebody better get out here and help me.”

“Xander, why don’t you go?” Giles suggested.

They were all surprised by that, but no one more than Xander. “What? I don’t even work here.”

Giles fixed him with a stern look that brooked no argument, and Xander sighed and threw up his hands in exasperation, following Naomi out into the front office. It was fairly clear that Giles just didn’t want Xander hovering anywhere near Angel right now. Not that he could hurt Angel, more like he could get hurt by Logan in trying.

“Why don’t you guys go?” Logan said, as Angel made a noise that sounded like a groan. Bren was wondering if he was ever going to come around; Logan could have cracked his skull if he head butted him hard enough. He assumed he was able to control the impact, but if Logan was really pissed off, maybe not. “I’ll see if I can’t get him to talk to me.”

Giles looked uncertain about that. “He could try -”

“If “attack” is going to appear in that sentence, I advise you think about that for a second,” Logan interrupted. Yeah, it was kind of a silly idea, even before you took into consideration Angel tied up on the floor like the main attraction at an S&M club.

“You shouldn’t underestimate him.”

“I don’t. I’ve fought him before; he’s good.” Logan had fought Angel before? Why hadn’t he heard that story? “But he’s not in his right mind, and I am … well, as much as I ever am. Angel’s got to be in there somewhere, and he’s gotta know he can trust me. And, if he tries any of this kinda shit again, I’m gonna smack him into next week.”

Which sounded like a very good plan, all in all. Better than anything he could come up with, and Giles, although initially skeptical, got a look on his face that more or less conceded the point. Angel and Logan had always had a strange kind of friendship, but Bren hadn’t realized how strange until today. You really didn’t know people as well as you thought, did you?

Giles stood up, and for a moment seemed unsteady on his feet, but it quickly passed. “I think I’ll go research the Master, see if there is some way to bring him back that I’m unaware of. It’s quite possible that that was the last thing Angel was able to tell me before …” He trailed off, not sure what to say. Taken over? Lost? Went nuts? Checked out? They just didn’t know.

Maybe between Logan and Giles, they’d be able to figure it out. And he hoped so, because as far as he knew, there were no loony bins for vampires.