Buffy wasn’t used to stepping back and letting someone else take the lead, especially when that someone else was Andrew. Yet there she was, standing by the docks of an abandoned factory with eleven other slayers, listening to Andrew holding his own against Angel.

Well to be fair, nobody, not even Andrew, knew she was Buffy. Thanks to the glamour the Coven whipped up before she left England. For all intents and purposes, she was a petite, short-haired brunette with big brown eyes, and the real Buffy was still in England.

“No. I don't think you... heard me, Angel.” On Andrew’s cue, Buffy and the other slayers stepped out from the shadows. The look on Angel’s face was priceless.

“Think we're just gonna let you take her back to your evil stronghold? Well, as they say in Mexico... No. We're not...gonna... let you.”

“She's psychotic, and I'm not turning her over...to you.” Picking up on Andrew’s hesitation, Angel pounced and asserted his alpha maleness.

“You don't have a choice. Check the view screen, Uhura. I got twelve Vampyr Slayers behind me, and not one of them has ever dated you. She's coming with us one way or another.”

Buffy decided that, after giving Andrew props for not backing down, she was so going to kill him for that little dig.

“You're way outta your league. I'll just clear this with Buffy.” Angel stood a little taller, all male posturing and name dropping.

“Where do you think my orders came from? News flash—nobody in our camp trusts you anymore. Nobody. You work for Wolfram and Hart. Don't fool yourself... we're not on the same side. Thank you for your help... but, uh...we got it.”

Buffy wanted to childishly taunt, “Na-na na-na boo boo,” but instead, she joined her sister slayers in taking Dana away from Team Angel and securing her into the truck. In silence, the group drove to a private airport to meet up with Ms. Harkness. Then she, Andrew, Dana and two of the slayers flew back to England.

Buffy and the remaining slayers had a brief celebratory pow-wow, then each parted ways.





Buffy headed towards downtown LA, and more specifically, Wolfram and Hart. Once inside the Evil Empire, she ignored her slayer radar going haywire while passing both human and demon alike bustling about like busy worker bees. Busy evil killer bees. It was kinda weird. But the weirdest thing of all was Angel’s receptionist. One of the last people, or more accurately vamp, Buffy had ever expected to see again—Harmony.

“Can I help you?” All bubblegum pink, sparkly unicorns and saccharine smiles, Harmony smugly eyed Buffy from the bunker of her mammoth desk.

“I’m here to see Angel.” Harmony hadn’t recognized Buffy either, thanks not only to her altered outward appearance, but to the fact that her voice was now imbued with a slightly southern twang.

“Mr. Angel is extremely busy, and unless you have an appointment, you can’t see him.”

It was always impressive how Harmony maintained a mega-watt smile while being such a bitch. Kinda like tapping your head and rubbing your tummy type-of-impressive. Buffy decided she didn’t have time for this tête-à-tête, especially with someone totally unarmed. With an eye roll, she headed towards Angel’s office.

“Um…like…excuse me!” Harmony left her mini mahogany fortress and moved quickly to block Buffy’s way.

“Move. Out. Of. My. Way. I’m not asking you twice.” Buffy tried to keep her temper in check, but Harmony was really pushing for a staking. Or at the very least, a bitch slap. Emphasis on bitch.

“Yeah, so not gonna happen.” Harmony flashed some fang.

Now it was only fair. Since Harmony went there, Buffy responded in kind. Repositioning her hands on her hips, her denim jacket opened and revealed a stake tucked in her waistband.

Harmony’s eyes bulged comically. Then she did probably the smartest thing she’d ever done. She stepped aside.

Closing the door behind her with a smug smile, Buffy entered Angel’s office. It was all wood and windows, not really the smartest décor for a vamp. With a quick tour, she took in the plush fabrics and priceless art. Making her way to his huge desk, she noticed some really cool and clearly one-of-a-kind weapons hanging on the back wall. Quite an impressive spread. If she passed judgment based on his office alone, Angel had totally sold his soul for a view and a big ol’slice of evil pie.

Buffy heard a slight commotion coming from reception area.

“Boss! Boss! I wouldn’t go in there, there’s—” Harmony’s frantic voice was starting to reach a pitch that only dogs could hear.

“Harmony, not now.” Angel brushed off Harmony’s warnings and entered his office like, well, like he owned the place.

Angel shut the door and turned towards Buffy. Squaring off, his eyes flashed gold and she heard a low growl as he took in her reclining in his plush leather chair, feet up on his desk and hands behind her head. If Buffy wasn’t who she was now, she surely would’ve backed down. Or at the very least, taken her filthy boots off his shiny desk top. Yet she’d done neither, and all he’d done was pissed her off more.

“You and I have a lot to talk about, Angel.”

---

Angel and Andrew's dialog taken directly from "Damage"

Big thanks to my amazing beta: SlayerDaniWho.  She has been here since the beginning.  If I hadn't thanked her before, I wanted to now.

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