Timeline: Alternative Timeline that splits from the Buffy universe before ANGEL episode "To Shanshu in L.A:".

Spoilers: see Timeline, especially A "I will remember you", BTVS "The Yoko-Factor" (how I love this ep), BTVS "Who are you?"

Synopsis: The LA and the Sunnydale gang on the TV show BIG BROTHER.

Protagonists: both regular casts (except Oz and Gunn)

Rating: PG - if you can watch the show, this should be okay.

Author's general comments:

Please excuse my mistakes, I am not a native speaker of English. And: This story has many parodistic elements, both regarding BB and BTVS/A, so don't take this too seriously, it's supposed to be fun.

This is part 3 of the series. You can find parts 1 & 2 at https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/planetangelone/days.html.

The story follows the rules of Big Brother Germany, so it may differ from the show as you know it. Feedback welcome (bloody_mary3333@angelfire.com). And if you want more of this, please send me challenges.

Author's notes on this part:

Big Brother is a show with extreme conditions, so tensions even between friends are understandable under these circumstances. Another difficult point is that the show does not allow any contact with the world outside. This part focuses on the way the protagonists deal with tensions, and the permanent danger of revealing too much of yourself when you do not get any feedback.

"I really appreciate your talking to me." Dave placed a small recorder with a microphone on the table. "Would you mind if I tape our conversation, just to avoid misunderstandings who said what?"

The woman placed her hand on the microphone. "No recordings. I tell my story. You write."

Dave nodded. He turned the recorder off and took a pencil. "When did you first meet Angel?"

"I was doing an undercover operation at a bar. Disappearances and murders of white singles. Later I learned he was researching the murders as well."

"So it's true he's a private investigator."

Kate laughed, but it was a bitter laughter. "I haven't seen his licence, if that's what you mean."

"What was your impression?"

"Well, I had the impression any woman has when she first sees him. What do you expect? He'd saved my life, he helped me solve my cases – though not in a way I could write into my report. I felt what any woman would feel, that's all.
I didn't know then what I know now."

"And what would that be?"

Her green eyes glared at him. "Don't quote this. Don't write it. Don't ever mention I said this, or I'll deny I ever met you. A demon, that's what he is."

Dave breathed audibly. "And the girl, Buffy?"

"She knows."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I met her once! And the other one, Faith – she was in jail, I arrested her myself. I assure you, as they are, in the Big Brother house --- they all know."

Dave noticed the woman's voice was shaking. He tried to sound calm and supportive, suppressing the excitement that was building up inside of him. "I know this is hard on you, but I must ask you this question --- do you really know what you're saying?"

Kate looked into his eyes with so much determination and the experience of unimaginable horrors it scared him. "I can tell a vampire from hundreds of ordnary people – they killed my father. Angel's kind murdered the man I loved most in my life. And he stood and watched."

The silence was uneasy.

"Is that why you decided to talk to me?"

Kate pushed a strand of her blond hair out of her face. "The public deserve the truth. It has to be made known what dangers are lurking beneath the surface." She stared at the reporter as if trying to hypnotize him. "Disclose what he is. Tear off his mask."

Dave cleared his voice. "Thank you, Lieutenant Lockley. You helped me a great deal."

*

Dave looked around the apartment. He pointed to a photograph of a young man in a purple robe. "Is that you?"

The man looked away shyly. "That was definitely the worst day in my life. My graduation. And I'm not sure I wanna talk about it."

Dave waved a hundred dollar note. "You don't want me to come all the way to Havard for nothing, do you? Besides, with all those rich kids around, someone like you with a scolarship looks as if you could use this."

He nodded reluctantly. "Okay. The day started as normal as one could imagine. Speeches, diplomas, congratulations. Then it was all dark."

Dave raised a brow. "Dark?"

"An eclipse. The sun was gone. And all of a sudden, hell broke loose." He closed his eyes as if to block the memories. "I saw the Mayor turn into... I don't know what, a creature... I can't describe. And he... he devoured our principal, just like that. My God, it was so horrible. It was the end of the world. Doomsday. The scent of blood in the air, the howling winds, the blackness that surrounded us... There were the cries of people, my classmates panicking, fleeing... all but one."

Dave rocked on his chair nervously. "And that was...?"

"Buffy. Buffy Summers. I still see her, standing there among us like an Amazon, a war goddess. She saved us."

"How?"

"I can't prove it... but I believe she blew up the school."

Dave frowned. "Buffy Summers blew up Sunnydale High?"

Buffy's former classmate looked at him pleadingly. "Don't quote this, right? I don't want to cause her problems, I wouldn't talk to you if I didn't need the money."

"Don't worry. Just one last question. Did you know her ex-boyfriend?"

"Not really. I saw them at the prom. And he was there at the... graduation. I remember I wondered why I had not seen him before it got dark, but I can't tell if he'd been there before, there were so many people."

"I see. Well, okay, thank you. I see the puzzle form into a picture now."

*

"I had lost touch with my brother when he moved to L.A." The dark-haired woman lit up another cigarette to keep her hands from trembling. "He was recruited for the society straight from college, and he had a high income. At least high enough to support our old grandmother. Supplied her with a loft in a 55 plus area. How he could afford it, I don't know. VIP clients, he said. He made it in LA, ya know. But he changed. He was no longer gentle and caring, the elder brother I could look up to. He was busy, had no more time for his family. I missed him. I met him briefly, at my grandmother's funeral." She cast away the cigarette and took a new one, though Dave observed she hardly smoked, she just blew the smoke into the air, not caring whether she was wasting money or annoying non-smokers. "I can't forget his eyes. This was not my brother. His eyes had hardened, and so had his heart. Must have lived through a lot. I asked him what was wrong. He lifted his coat, and the blood froze in my veins when I saw his hand was gone. I asked how this had happened. Who had done this to him. And his voice was cold, full of bitterness and hatred, when he gave me the name of the monster that maimed him. Angel."

*

"I still remember the day they brought the girl into intensive care. In my years as a nurse, I have seen many things, but I shall never forget how pale her skin was, her pulse almost non-existent, and it was not visible what had caused her condition. Doctor MacCaulay first assumed it was the typical vegetarian syndrome, not eating properly, not getting enough ferrum, maybe combined with annorexia, then collapse – but this was something else. Blood loss. Without apparent reason. When the guy took her here, I was sure he was to be held responsible for her condition, his face was the incarnation of guilt and remorse. Her body was bruised, as if she'd been in a fight with someone. And I thought he'd beaten her. Not that we don't get to see that every day. But most girls that age feel attracted to guys that treat them badly, well, I thought he was just one of those." She lowered her voice like a conspirator. "But I was wrong. Believe it or not, there were holes in her neck, real wounds, like the bite of a wild beast."

Dave made a few notes. "What do you make of it?"

"I really don't know – but either the guy lives on a very restrictive diet, or that young couple has a very peculiar sex life."

*

"Just a few minutes," the nun admonished the reporter, "Mrs Farthings is a very old lady, and one must not excite her."

Dave nodded.

Mrs Farthings was sitting in a wheelchair by the window.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Farthings. My name is David Ferrer, we phoned. I'm working for Entertainment In Focus."

Mrs Farthings spun her wheelchair around. "Eugenia Farthings."

"You called my secretary. You said you had information."

"I read the latest edition of your magazine. There was an announcement you were doing an article on Big Brother. You are announcing you would reveal a secret about Angel."

"I must admit I'm a little surprised you are one of our readers, the target group is..."

"... slightly younger? Actually, my granddaughter reads it. I just happened to see it when she visited me. Happens sometimes, that we get visitors here in the ghetto. Our society shuts the old and weak away, to create the impression everyone's young and beautiful. And the same society is addicted to sensation, to scandal, and your magazine supports it!"

Dave sighed. "Thought you had something to say."

"I do. What are you going to write about Angel, young man?"

Dave smiled. "You'll have to read the next magazine."

From her wrinkled face, a pair of piercing blue eyes fixed him. "I wanted to talk to you to see if you had any concrete facts. I'd recommend you not to venture into things you cannot comprehend."

Dave looked at her with curiosity. "What do you know?"

"I know nothing," the old woman refused, "I'm just old. I have some advice for you. Let me talk from experience. I know Angel, and I can tell you there's no scandal or smut about him. Just leave him alone. Don't drag up his past."

"I'm in the information business, Ma'am. It's my job to drag up other people's past. But if he is the way you describe him, there's nothing to fear, right?"

Mrs Farthings shook her head in disbelief. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You might find answers you don't want to hear."

The expression on Dave's face changed from his initial amusement to a much more serious air. "You wanna know what information I got? I can tell you! I get reports from eye witnesses who tell me they saw him turn into a monster, a very reliable source confirms he watched a cold-blooded murder, and he did nothing to prevent it. Another source tells me he hacks off arms of people who get in his way, and someone else tells me he almost killed his own girlfriend, she had to be treated in hospital!"

His words upset the old lady. "They must be lying!"

"I believe what I see and hear. And if Big Brother has a monster within that house, of which mankind must be protected, we all have the right to know!"

"No!" Mrs Farthings cried, "I have known Angel all my life, and I assure you..."

Dave froze. "What did you say?"

Mrs Farthings realized her mistake. "I said I have known Angel all his life..."

"No, that was not what you said. You said all your life. How old are you?"

"Didn't your mother teach you not to ask a lady this question?"

"How old? Eighty-five? Ninety? How old does Angel look? Twenty-seven? Thirty? How come you've known him all your life? Because he doesn't age?"

One of the nuns, alarmed by the shouting in the room, came in. "I must ask you to leave now, Mr Ferrer. Mrs Farthings has a very sensitive heart, she must not be excited."

"Sure," Dave said scornfully, but also with some satisfaction. No real proof, but proof enough that he was on the right way.

Water was steadily running into the pool. The inhabitants of Big Brother were watching in awe the pool they had built was actually up to the specifications.

Toby, who had been dozing lazily next to the pool all afternoon, was now watching curiously as his new home was completed.

"This time we've made it," Wesley announced proudly, "Good work!"

"Yeah, we were really good this time," Riley agreed, "Anyway, this was a better task than the last one. Making fools of ourselves by having to pretend we're actors, ridiculous! This one was for real men."

"Of course," Spike replied cynically, "That's why Angel and I did most of the work."

Riley shot him an angry look.

Buffy patted his shoulder. "We're a team, after all, everyone's important."

"At least we'll have enough money next week," Cordy said with satisfaction, "This is gonna improve the mood in this house, I sometimes feel like in a graveyard... not that there was that much difference, no TV, no computer..."

"I'm also relieved we can afford some luxury," Anya said, caressing the snake she had flung around her neck for the presentation of the task.

Faith stepped forward on the grass. "Hey, Big Brother, are you there? This is our task, we're ready, we'd like to show you! Could you tell us now we've passed, so we can get back to more important issues?"

A minute later, the electronically changed voice of Big Brother sounded from the speakers. "Dear inhabitants. We announce you the results of this week's task. You have successfully completed Part One, building a fully functional pool for your alligator Toby."

The cheering of the group was interrupted by another announcement. "BUT in our view, you have failed in Part Two of the week's task, developing a sense of responsibility by caring for little animals."

"WHY?" Xander burst out angrily.

"The reason for failing in Part Two is as follows," Big Brother announced, "Some of you clearly lack respect for nature and its beings, for example using the poor creatures for playing tricks on each other, talking about making the snake a vegetarian, placing them in a bed, which is not suitable for a spider, these are things which show the group as a whole is immature and irresponsible. Both parts of the task had to be completed, and therefore, you lose 50% of your budget. You will be contacted again tomorrow. Big Brother asks the nominees politely to pack their belongings, just in case they are to leave. Big Brother wishes you a nice evening."

The clicking told them they were 'alone' again.

"Thank you very much, Spike," Cordy hissed at the vampire, "It's your fault our budget is HALF of what we used to have, which was only 60% of what we had in the first place! I personally hold YOU responsible if I starve to death in here!" She stormed inside in rage.

Wesley shrugged. "If I'm lucky, this no longer affects me. I will go after Cordelia and try to calm her."

A large proportion of the remaining group glared at Spike.

If looks could kill... I'd be lucky I'm dead already. "Don't look at me," Spike protested, "Who could have known they were that fussy about the whole thing? This is a game, after all."

Riley was the first one to form an open protest. "Yeah, right. A game. Giles, when we distribute the – extremely low – budget for next week, we should consider that it was Spike this time who lost this game. So it should be his provisions that should be affected first. You can eat other things, too, right?"

He's a fool, Angel thought, but it would help to conceal our secret if we were seen eating as well. Perhaps I will try this tomorrow.

"We really ought not to discuss this now, in the heat of the moment," Giles tried to placate him.

Spike, however, seemed to have waited for Riley's comment. "That's what I think, too," he announced to everybody's surprise.

I do not like the sound of this, Angel thought. His suspicion was confirmed when Spike walked in a circle around them, his eyes finally resting on Buffy. "We have one camera-free hour in one of the bedrooms per day, right? My need for... provisions could be extremely reduced if I were offered something to enrichen the restrictive diet. This place would suck much less. Your girlfriend could be of help to lengthen our supplies. I'm sure Angel would agree..."

Riley looked as if he were to hit Spike at any moment.

Buffy held him back with difficulty. "It's not worth it!" she admonished her enraged boyfriend.

"Stop it," Angel said, "It's enough, Spike, no need to provoke anyone."

For a moment, the adversaries were staring at each other.

Riley finally turned away and growled: "If I'm lucky, Spike will no longer be a problem by tomorrow night."

Buffy nodded slowly. She was not that convinced the viewers would want Spike to leave. If this were Dallas, who would want to vote J.R. out of the show?

*

Faith was lying on the sofa when Willow passed her by. "You've already finished packing?" the witch asked, surprised.

"I'm not packing," Faith announced.

"So you'll finish tomorrow."

"Do you need a hearing-aid? I won't leave, honey. THINK it over, if you are able. Wes will have to go."

"What makes you so sure?" Willow wanted to know, "You are annoying, Spike is beyond discussion, and Wes is the most normal person of the nominees."

"And that's it! Wes is more boring than a goldfish." Faith yawned.

Suddenly, Willow's eyes sparkled. "What do you think, who will win?"

Faith's eyes widened. Did Willow really have those thoughts? "Let me think for a moment... I'm not sure. But I can tell you who will not: Wes. Too boring. Giles. Too serious. Cordy. Too stubborn. Riley. Obvious, isn't it?" She paused. "But I can tell you, if you and Tara don't offer the viewers something extraordinary soon, like our two sex machines Donald and Daisy, sorry, I mean, Xander and Anya, they'll get bored with you soon."

Willow blushed deeply. "This won't get you far," she said.

Faith smiled like a cat about to devour a mouse. "My time hasn't come yet. I dunno how far I can get. Same for Spike. The audience love the evil, so we'll be part of the game for a while."

Willows turned her back at her to walk away.

"And, Will?"

Reluctantly, the witch looked back. "What?"

"The way I see it --- you should think about for which team you wanna play."

Willow tried to push Faith's words away. Yet she could not wholly prevent it was keeping her busy.

The group had gathered in the living room. The atmosphere was tense.

Finally, the silent clicking of the line showed they were connected.

"Hello, dear inhabitants."

"Hello, Big Brother."

"You are surely very curious who will leave, so I won't bother you with another long exposition. You know we have a live show tonight, and one of you will be with us in a few minutes. And that someone is..."

Riley caught his breath. Please, let it be Spike.

"... Wesley."

Wesley shot from the sofa like a rocket, then he dropped to his knees, waving at the cameras. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You shouldn't be that enthusiastic about leaving us behind," Cordy protested sourly.

Spike smiled inwardly. He had known.

Giles sighed. For Wesley, the game was over, after little less than two weeks. And as for himself? A nomination was not in sight. Well, he was there to watch over Buffy, and this meant sacrifice. Hard as it was, but Wesley had been among the few people he considered about normal in this house.

Proudly, Wesley carried his baggages to the door, not allowing anyone to help.

The tunes of Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" filled the house, the parting gift he had wished for.

Wesley regarded them for a moment. Then he approached the door. "It's been a pleasure. At least with most of you. Then, nothing remains but to wish you luck, lots of luck, and see you in three months!"

Angel did not succeed in concealing how disappointed he was. "Wes, take care of the agency, and everything."

Wesley smiled. "That's my job, after all." Seriously, he added: "And you take care of yourself."

"I bet you'll be a movie star before me," Cordy said.

"Not if any producer has seen his interpretation of Antonio Banderas," Faith remarked.

*

Cordelia tried to pull her coat around her shoulders more tightly. The night was cool. The end of summer would come sooner than they suspected.

Angel was seated in a chair, close to the water, staring gloomily at the surface of the pool.

"Here you are," she said.

Angel did not look up. "I didn't feel like spending the evening with the others, drinking to Wesley's leaving."

"I don't either," Cordy admitted. She got herself another chair and joined Angel.

"Don't take this personal, Cordy, I'd rather be alone."

"No, you don't. I know what you're thinking."

"Do you?"

"It's one friend less here. And we're trapped here with Spike and Faith, and of course that..." she lowered her voice. "... that unbearable Riley! If I hadn't long moved away from Sunnydale, that guy would've been a good reason to go!"

Against his will, Angel had to smile at Cordelia's frankness. Yet she could not really cheer him up. Wesley was voted away. What if Cordelia was next? How many friends did he still have in the house?

As if she had read his thoughts, Cordy added: "You won't get rid of me too soon. I'm planning to win, and I'm not leaving this house without at least one offer for a motion picture."

"What I miss most," Angel said quietly, "is a view. Standing on a terrace, watching the city lights in the night. All we have are those walls."

"When this is over, you'll get as much city lights as you wish, what about new office rooms on the fifteenth floor?"

"You're spending the money before you have it."

Cordelia shrugged. "I'm just saving time! Life is short." She paused and thought about it. "Well, not for you."

*

The second host of the show, Aleksandra, was expecting Wesley at the door.

"Wesley, welcome back," she greeted and embraced him. "How does it feel to be free again?"

"Marvellous," he admitted.

"You're not sad to leave first?" she asked, holding out a new microphone to him.

"Not really," Wesley replied, "though I am sorry to leave my friends behind."

"What about the pets you got? Oh my God, had I been in there, I would have felt uneasy, like Cordelia did."

"I don't exactly like spiders and snakes, but, you get used to anything, even to Spike and Faith."

Aleksandra laughed. "Now, follow me, Wes, we're going to the studio. Your fans are waiting, and I bet they are quite impatient!"

Wesley was surprised to find the effect of the show on the public was enormous. He was taken to the studios in a black Rolls Royce with dyed window panes, guarded by a special police squad. The street was crowded with people, waving flags and posters with the names of the Big Brother candidates. They were throwing stuffed pets and roses as he got into the car. Cordelia was wrong, she's a movie star already, all of us are, he thought with surprise. The exit from the house was like a dream. If they used to say the feather was mightier than the sword, nowadays it's the camera. I'm the first one to leave, people will forget about me, but what about those who will be in the house for a hundred and six days? It will be hard for them to take up their old lives again. We are watched much more closely than we would have thought. What that means for Angel and Spike. Wish I could tell them to be more careful.

The lights blinded him when the staff of the production crew hurriedly showed him the way to the stage.

Applause followed him as he was led to a comfortable armchair and offered a glass of water for the interview.

He sighed from relief. Big Brother was over for him.

He had no idea then that the true show was only just beginning.

"Is there no chocolate left?" Xander's voice was full of disappointment as he searched the refridgerator for breakfast.

"You had the last one to celebrate Wesley's exit," Giles replied, "We didn't order any chocolate this time, it is a luxury good we cannot afford, low budget we have now."

"Never mind, I'll find something else," Xander said.

Buffy looked over his shoulder.

"No chocolate," Xander informed her, "But I think I've found a substitute.". He took a jar from the refridgerator and put it on the table.

Buffy stared at it. She felt strange suddenly.

"Hey, Buffster, what's wrong?" Xander asked.

"Nothing," Buffy said, absent-minded. "Giles, what is that?"

Giles looked up from his book. "Peanut butter. It was cheapest. Why?"

Thoughts were running through Buffy's mind as she turned the jar in her hands. She felt there was something she should remember about peanut butter, but she could not think of it for the very life of her.

"Morning," Riley said as he entered the kitchen. He was sweating from his morning exercise. "What about breakfast?" he asked and took the jar from Buffy.

"No!" she yelled suddenly and grabbed it back.

"Ouch," Riley complained, "What's wrong with you? You could have told me you still needed it! Besides, you won't eat all this alone. Come on, give me the jar."

"No," she refused, "I don't want you to eat it."

Riley was totally confused. "Why?"

Buffy struggled for an explanation. The truth was, she had no idea why. "It's wrong," she said helplessly, then she added hastily, "There's a horrible lot of calories in this, and think of all the fat, it's so unhealthy, as your girlfriend I find it irresponsible to let you eat it."

Riley shrugged. "Okay, I'll take something else, if it means so much to you." He kissed her forehead. "Thanks for caring, love."

Xander, watching the scene, had quickly decided not to interfere with Buffy. "I'll visit the chicks and get some eggs," he announced, "Anyone else?"

"Me," Anya agreed, "I'll join you, we can look for some together."

Buffy shook her head in disbelief as the two of them went off to the barn.

"Don't look that shocked," Riley addressed her, "What else is there to do in this house? Obviously you don't agree, we've been here for two weeks, and haven't used the barn or the camera free hour."

"We've talked this over," Buffy defended herself, "It will take some time to get used to the situation, the cameras, and everything."

"But you hardly look at me," Riley insisted.

"Maybe she's not that bored yet," Angel said.

Buffy blushed. She had not even noticed he had entered the kitchen at all. What was he doing here at this early hour? Then she remembered. They had to be up because they would get a new task today, and the group would discuss how much of their low budget they would lose this time. Buffy lowered her voice. "I really don't think we should discuss this now in front of the others."

Riley glared at Angel. "That's none of your business if my girlfriend is bored!"

Buffy felt the tension once again. She had to prevent a quarrel. "Breakfast?" she asked helplessly.

To her surprise, Angel ignored Riley and turned to look at her. "Thanks," he said and took the jar of peanut butter from her hand.

"You let HIM take it?" Riley nearly exploded. "He doesn't even LIKE it, he only wants it because of the cameras!"

"Riley, it's just peanut butter," Angel said.

"Want some ice-cream with that?!" Buffy suddenly asked.

Angel froze in the movement.

Their eyes locked.

Buffy began to shiver, not knowing why. Then a picture formed in her mind.

She knows, Angel thought in a shock, She remembers.

"Why do you ask?" he said softly.

"I don't know," she whispered back. "It just came naturally."

They stood in the kitchen, staring at each other. Buffy felt nauseatic and tried to steady herself at the kitchen table. Suddenly, she shrank back from it as if it had given her an electric shock.

"What's wrong with the table?" Riley yelled.

"I was afraid it might break," Buffy whispered.

Angel cast his eyes down. He handed the jar to Riley and headed for the statement room. "I'll go and see if the task is there already."

Riley shook his head. "What's going on here?"

Cordelia gave him a pitiful glance. "Whatever, you'll be the last one to know."

*

"Dear inhabitants," Tara read in her quiet, but pleasant voice, "After last week's hard work, we have decided to give you a task that will challenge your creative skills. You will find equipment in the statement room that will enable you to see the world through the artist's eye. We put you in teams of two people, one group of three people. It is your task to paint or draw a portrait of each other. To render your task more interesting, you will have to make up an appropriate background you place your model in. The task is passed if

1. the model is clearly recognisable in the picture,
2. the background is clearly not the Big Brother house or its surroundings."

Tara looked up from the sheet. "That's it."

Faith raised a brow. "Painting, huh? We've lost already."

"Not necessarily," Giles disagreed.

"I don't have the patience to finish a picture," Anya admitted.

"I won a competition once in elementary school," Willow told them, her cheeks glowing, "My picture was called 'Snow white and the seven dwarfs'."

"Great," Spike cried, imitating her high pitch, "This is gonna save us!"

"How many per cent?" Tara asked.

"Ninety."

Ten pairs of astonished eyes looked at Angel.

The vampire had been saying nothing since the incident in the kitchen, but as they looked at him now, his eyes were glowing, a smile playing around his lips.

"WHAT?" Riley asked, thinking Angel was insane.

"I would have said a hundred," Angel explained, "but you wouldn't have agreed."

"You can't expect us to agree," Tara finally said, her head low, her eyes cast down, "I've always loved painting, but the demands here are very high."

"I could instruct you," Angel suggested. "The demand is intelligibility, and I think we can do that. We have to place a high percentage, we have lost two tasks already."

"You want to teach us how to paint?" Riley asked sceptically, "Don't take it personal if I doubt that."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Buffy said enthusiastically, "You haven't seen Angel's pictures. The way he uses his hands..." She broke off.

"I'm against it," Riley said. "The majority decides."

"They are right," Willow said, "I am sure we can do it! Ninety."

"If you are so convinced, I will trust you," Tara agreed, "Ninety."

Cordelia smiled. "All right, I'd love a portrait of myself, too! Ninety."

Xander was not at all sure. "Art classes were a nightmare for me in elementary school already! Do we have to place a budget THAT high? Spike," he looked at the blond vampire for support, "your cigarettes..."

Spike shook his head. "... were never safer. Hey, it's not like Angel was especially talented or something. Xander, even you would be a great artist if you had 240 years of practice."

"Thank you, Spike," Angel replied sarcastically.

Spike's point made sense, however. Therefore, the majority of the group declared their agreeement.

"So, who is drawing whom?" Willow asked curiously.

Tara searched the envelope for a second sheet. "These must be the names." She looked at the list and read: "The teams. Xander and Willow. Cordelia and Anya. Faith and Spike. Rupert, Tara and Riley. Buffy and Angel."

"Oh, great," Cordelia sighed.

"Perfect," Anya said, "How to portray someone who can't keep her mouth shut for a minute."

Riley did not seem exactly enthusiastic either. "Why do they take in couples at all if they don't let them portray each other?"

Spike smirked wickedly. "But that's precisely what they do."

Buffy shot him a warning glance.

Faith stalked over to Riley. "What a pity they didn't tell me to have myself painted by you. For old time's sake, I mean---"

"It's enough, Faith," Angel interfered.

"I certainly don't need your protection," Riley replied angrily.

"No, just your girlfriend's," Faith remarked sarcastically.

*

"Why won't you let me see what you've accomplished so far?"

Buffy sighed. "Because I haven't accomplished anything yet, Angel. I will show you the picture when it's ready." She slowly guided the brush over the canvas. Buffy had never been a great painter, she shared the traumatic childhood memories of Xander connected with elementary school and water colors, but this time, it was strangely different. She could have closed her eyes, and still would have seen the lines of Angel's face before her. While he was the embodiment of self-assurance when he was portraying her, the thought of being portrayed, just sitting there, doing nothing, while being regarded closely made him nervous. Especially because she would not show him any result. Buffy was not afraid he might laugh. She knew her picture was no match for his, but she also saw the reason in what Spike had said. Therefore, Angel would always encourage her. She admitted to herself this was not the reason she refused to let anyone see her painting.

The true reason was: she knew not what she was painting. The picture came to her naturally, as if something was guiding her hand. Sure, the man in the picture was Angel. But she had begun to draw the figure of a woman in the shadows. And that was the point. If that woman, be it Buffy herself, Cordelia, Faith, or any other woman, was in the shadows --- it could only mean Angel was in the light. The thought was a paradox she could not solve. At least not until the picture would be complete.

Angel had chosen coal for his portrait of Buffy. First, an instinct in him had raged against the thought, as the memories flashed before his eyes of someone else in his body, sitting at her bedside and drawing her while she was sleeping. Then, he took the coal anyway. She would look beautiful in black and white, colors often distracted the view from the subject, drawing unnecessary attention to the artist. He did not want attention. He wanted to disappear behind the picture of her, the image he would have been able to draw blindfolded.

What vexed him more was the choice of surroundings. There had been many moments he could have portrayed. By the docks, the depth in her eyes when he had told her he would be away for months. On that fateful Christmas morning, snowflakes in her hair, her cheeks reddened by the cold. Thanksgiving, when he had watched her from the outside, preparing the dinner for her friends. But all of these moments had something in common, a painful memory attached to them, a memory Buffy would think of when she saw the picture. So he had better think of something else. How to portray Buffy in surroundings she would appreciate, not to evoke memories, not to cause another row with Riley.

Spike peeked over Tara's shoulder. "What an awful picture of Giles!"

"That's not Giles," Tara admitted in a low voice, "It's Riley."

"He knows," Willow said, "he's just trying to tease you."

"Your picture isn't much better," Spike told her, loud enough for their models to hear it, "Well, Xander and Riley are not THAT ugly. Though they are ugly."

"Hey," Xander complained, "Leave the girls alone!"

Spike just laughed. "We'd better not leave Tara alone with Willow, or they'll never finish their pictures."

Tara cast her eyes down. "Spike, please," she whispered.

"What?" Spike asked without understanding, "Afraid of the cameras? You should've thought about that before! If you and Will are a couple, you should admit it openly! As openly as I'm telling you your picture is unrecognizable."

Tara bit her lip, she fought back tears.

Riley rose from his chair. "Shut up, or I will shut you up!"

Spike held his hands up in apology. "Slowly! I'm one of the good guys now, right? If Tara is ruining this task, it's my duty to prevent her, the good friend I am."

This was too much for the sensitive young woman. Tara dropped the brush and stormed out.

"Are you happy now? At least we are doing something for the task," Willow said angrily.

"Me, too," Spike protested, "My model's just having a break!"

"Faith is having nothing but breaks," Willow claimed and rose. "Five minutes off, Xander. I'll go and look after Tara." With another glare at Spike, the witch left.

*

Tears were streaming down Tara's face as she rushed into the girls' bedroom. Yet what she found there struck her with surprise.

Faith was sprawled on the bed, the red satin sheets round her body being the only thing she wore

At one end of the bed, there was a canvas with an empty chair.

"Hi," Faith greeted her, "Wanna join me?"

Tara blushed deeply. "You are not having yourself painted like that, are you?"

Faith sighed. "That's it, the so-called liberal people, conservative as 19^th century England. Of course! Your portraits will look all the same, mine will be different!"

"Aren't you afraid?"

Faith laughed. "Afraid of what? Spike? Remember the chip?"

"Be careful," Tara warned her, then lowered her voice. "The microphones!"

The Slayer shrugged.

Tara decided to leave her.

"Hey, if you're going anyway, would you tell Spike I'm ready?"

The witch shook her head. "No, surely not!"

Faith looked at her viciously. "Jealous? Would like to be in his place?"

Without another reply, Tara ran out. Ignoring the others, she sat down in the garden by the pools.

Toby looked up lazily.

"Poor creature," Tara whispers, "We're both prisoners here. And I don't know how much longer I can take this."

*

"I'm really worried about Tara," Willow told Xander, "I'm afraid she might want to leave."

Xander shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Don't move," Willow ordered. "What did you say?"

"I said I didn't think so. Nobody here can afford to leave of their own free will. The payment we receive for being in the house will be cancelled, and besides, for every member of the group who volunteers to leave, a new one will move in. Who would want the group to live with a complete stranger?"

"Perhaps you're right," Willow admitted, "She won't go. Unless she's voted out," she added in an anxious tone.

"No one of the Sunnydale gang would nominate TARA," Xander tried to assure her, "There are other people in the house we're craving to nominate!" He gestured towards the bedroom where Faith was working with Spike.

"I said don't move," Willow protested. She sighed. Xander was probably right. Who would want Tara to leave if Faith and Spike were available?

*

"Michelle, look at this," Dave suddenly said.

"Dave, I don't have time for your conspiracy theories, my special feature's due at twelve tomorrow."

"Let me show you this, and I'll help you!"

Michelle left her computer and looked at the TV. "Tara has taken away the old skin of Esmeralda. So what?"

"She's carried it to the barn, the only spot in the house without a camera. Why should she do it? Besides, she's been carrying strange things there all morning. Here, I've made a list."

Sceptically, Michelle read it. "A snake's skin, a needle, a golden necklace stolen from Cordelia, a crocodile tooth... perhaps she's making a handbag."

"Don't be silly, read on."

"Rosemary, snail slime... ugh!" Michelle shook her head. "A raven's feather, toads' eyes, a small shell, a crystal, flavoured taper candles... where did she get those things?"

"She brought some of them with her. Not exactly the kind of baggage you and I would have, is it? I believe she's performing a spell in the barn."

Michelle frowned. "A spell. Of course. And I'm the reincarnation of Elvis."

"No, seriously! She's doing something in there! She's taken off her microphone, which the rules of Big Brother forbid, and she's had a row with Spike this morning. I bet she's putting him under some spell, or a curse, maybe."

"You know what? You've been watching too many X files."

"Laugh at me if you wish. But if I reveal the truth about the occult, they will give me the Pulitzer award!"

"I know you don't want my advice, but... if you publish that nonsense, no magazine or newspaper in the whole country will give you a job, and not even Sheryl will be able to save your ass!"

*

Tara lit the candles in a circle around her. The crystal, attached to a small golden necklace, was swaying above the burning circle. She closed her eyes.

"Hecate, Mother, I call on you. Send your servant your blessing."

To be continued.

Read in part 4: How Tara's spell affects the others in the house. How the tensions between Riley and Angel are threatening to escalate into an open fight when Riley sees Buffy's picture. How Buffy tries to account for the flashes of memory. How Dave publishes his first feature on Big Brother.

106 Days Part 4 - COMING last week of September/first week of October 2001

Can't give you a more precise date, for I'll be on my year abroad then.