Dave was busy with loads of paper when Sheryl entered the office.

"So what's this?" she asked reproachfully, "It doesn't exactly look like a useful feature for the next edition."

"It's even better," Dave admitted, "It's my Big Brother application."

"Your... WHAT?"

"Yeah, I've realized I will never solve the mystery of this house if not from within. I have friends in high places. My brother-in-law is head of casting for Big Brother. The application is a mere formality. He told me, as soon as any of those guys leaves of his own free will, I'll be in!"

"You're not really going to move into this house, are you?" Sheryl asked, totally astonished.

"Oh yes, I am," Dave confirmed, "I will be the mole in this party. There is something wrong with Angel, and I will prove it. The world has a right to know the whole truth, and if I have to spend months of my life researching the story of my life, I'll do whatever it takes."

Sheryl sighed. "They are a complete gang, even if, and I'm not saying I think it possible, even IF someone SHOULD leave voluntarily, you would be voted off before you unpacked your suitcase."

Dave smiled. "I wouldn't bet on it."

*

"How are you getting on with your portrait of Spike?"

Faith was seated on the sofa, playing idly with a brush. She looked up at Angel and sighed. "They say painting is therapy, but it just bores me to death."

Giles entered the living room with a strict expression on his face. "All right, it's no use denying, who didn't clean up after themselves?"

Faith frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It looks as if a pasta bomb had exploded in the kitchen. We are in this house without television or even books, so one might be inclined to expect everyone has enough time to do the dishes."

Faith yawned. "We're not in jail here, are we."

"No," Giles admitted, "But I wouldn't be surprised if you ended up there again."

Faith jumped from the sofa. "Careful," she warned him.

"Sit down," Angel said.

Faith shot him an angry glare. "That's my problem! I do my dishes when I choose!"

"As long as they don't get in anyone's way," Angel replied.

"People had better get out of my way," Faith said.

"Giles is right, Faith, it's annoying if you have to look for the tap under tons of plates in the sink. You just tell me you're bored, why not use your energy for something useful?"

Faith shook her head stubbornly. "A dirty plate in the sink won't kill him."

"A little water won't kill you," Angel insisted.

"Bite me!"

"That can be arranged."

Without another word, Faith headed for the kitchen.

Giles shook his head in disbelief. How on earth did Angel manage to have some authority over that girl?

*

Riley closed the door to the men's bedroom behind them. A look at her watch told Buffy it was the time of the legally obligatory camera-free hour. For some reason, Buffy suddenly felt caged.

"Alone at last," Riley sighed with relief.

Buffy smiled uncomfortably. "Yeah."

"We hardly have time to talk," Riley added. "There's so much weighing on my mind, for example the nominations and everything."

Buffy shook her head. "We're not allowed to talk about..."

"I know, we mustn't influence each other, we all must make our own decision. However, I don't think my nomination is that hard to guess."

"Probably not. Though I think you're being prejudiced because Angel and Spike are... well, who they are," she tried to avoid the v-word.

"Prejudiced?" Riley said. "I don't think so, maybe you're just a little partial."

Buffy's eyes opened wide. "Partial."

Riley shook his head. "I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. Anyway, I don't think we should waste our camera-free hour like that." He advanced a few steps, closing his arms around Buffy and holding her for a moment. Then he kissed her.

Buffy reluctantly returned the kiss.

Riley's hands were slowly moving down her spine.

"Riley, I don't think we..." Buffy began, but Riley silenced her with a kiss.

"It's the camera-free hour," he whispered, "We're practically alone."

"If someone comes in..."

"Nobody will. They're all in the living room, painting and drawing. And taking Angel's good counsel," he added, grimacing. Then he began to unfasten Buffy's top. "And, after all, I've missed you since we moved in. I miss your kisses, your caress, everything about holding you close."

Buffy closed her eyes and suffered Riley's proceeding. Part of her longed to feel like a woman again, since she could not help but feel returned to her schooldays since Big Brother had begun. However, some mean little voice in her head was more than reluctant to get up close and personal with her boyfriend in a room whose door they were unable to lock, the same voice that desperately wanted to join the others in the living room, to go on dictating her a scenery for her piece of art.

Buffy concentrated on Riley's kiss, pushing aside the little teases of the voice.

Her exploring hands found Riley's chest.

"I've missed your touch," Riley whispered.

Buffy could not account for the voice in her head and made another effort to get rid of it, pulling Riley down to the bed with her.

Riley obviously enjoyed the situation, determined to reclaim his girlfriend energetically. His attentions becoming more and more demanding, he added in a low voice: "I want you, Buffy."

Buffy's eyes flew open. "What did you say, Riley?!"

Riley looked confused. "I meant... being with you, 24 hours a day, I couldn't resist temptation any longer."

Buffy shook her head, as if to clear her mind of the unconnected ideas that entered her mind time and time again.

*

"That looks good already, Anya, but you might want to use a little more white, otherwise the color is too dull."

Anya nodded. The vampire's advice made sense.

"Angel, could you..?" Cordelia waved.

Angel looked over her shoulder at the picture. "Quite impressive, but these lines should be softer, like..." Angel looked around for a pencil to give her an idea of what he meant, but he could not find any. "Where's the pencil case?"

Spike pointed towards the bedroom. "I think I saw Riley taking it to the bedroom. If I were you, I'd get it – he might take the idea they are good for something other than painting... I mean, they're made of wood, after all."

For once, Angel agreed with Spike. He would have felt a lot less uneasy knowing Riley had nothing remotely stake-like in his possession.

Spike smirked devilishly as Angel headed for the bedroom.

*

"Look at that, Joe! Turn on the bedroom cameras, NOW!"

"It's against the regulations, boss – it's the camera-free hour. We mustn't broadcast any pictures from the bedrooms now."

"I know, but we'll miss a premier drama! It's a shame! Well, at least focus the corridor cameras on the bedroom door."

*

Riley did not even know what hit him when Buffy reflexively pushed him away.

"What?!" he asked, totally baffled.

Buffy hurried to wrap herself in her dressing gown.

Riley, still half-naked, sat on the floor, flabbergasted, where Buffy's sudden outburst had thrust him.

"Sorry," Buffy replied quickly. Her eyes fell on the pencil case near the bedside.

As Angel was about to enter the bedroom, its door was opened from the inside.

"Buffy," he said, confused.

Buffy took a deep breath. Then she gave him the pencil case she held in her hand. "Thought you might need this."

Angel took the pencil case. For a brief moment, their fingers touched. "Thanks."

"Hey, no problem."

Michelle shot from her chair. "How the HELL did she know that?"

Dave nodded knowingly. "Maybe it's in her blood."

His colleague looked confused. "I was so sure Angel would enter the bedroom and catch the two of them in the act, and now... it was as if Buffy had heard him coming."

"She felt his presence," Dave explained, "There is something about their relationship, which is because he's a vampire!"

Michelle sighed. "Not again! You can't really believe that!"

"I not only believe, I know, and I will prove it! Would you like to help me?"

The young woman frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Michelle, when was your last date?"

*

Willow and Buffy were sitting on the bed of the girls' bedroom.

"We can't even have chocolate for our chat," Buffy complained.

"Frustrating," Willow agreed.

"Yeah, like my love life," Buffy added.

"So what happened?"

"Nothing, and that's the trouble. The situation could easily have been embarrassing, Angel could have seen me with Riley... not that it would have made any difference, I mean, Riley is my boyfriend, it would have been Angel to be uncomfortable, but... the point is, I knew he was there, and I just... I sent my boyfriend to the ground!"

"Poor Riley," Willow admitted. "Seems our partners are not that happy in the house. I'm worried about Tara. She doesn't talk to me, and she looks sad. I don't understand it either, sometimes I'm even ANGRY with her because of that!"

Buffy nodded. "We're just freaks, Will."

*

Wesley rushed to the phone. "Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless?"

"Hello," a shy female voice replied, "I guess I'm hopeless."

"Well, at the moment Angel himself is unavailable, unfortunately, but maybe I can be of help?"

"To be completely honest, I don't want to talk about this on the phone. Can we meet?"

"Sure," Wesley replied, checking out his schedule. "What about tomorrow at nine?"

"What about today? What about lunch?"

"Er... regrettably, I have an interview at twelve."

"Dinner, then."

Realizing the woman at the other end of the line really had to be quite helpless, Wesley complied and agreed to meet her. "How will I recognize you?"

"You needn't, I will find you," she said and hung up.

Wesley reached the restaurant in time to see a dark-haired woman enter. She wore a tight red dress and looked extremely appealing.

Could she be the new client?

The woman came up to him, smiling radiantly. "So glad to meet you at last, Mr Pryce. I'm Michelle."

Wesley would have given half his library to be able to talk to Cordelia for advice. Shows how desperate I am, he thought to himself. Asking Cordelia's help on what women want.

His last date had been longer ago than Wesley actually wanted to admit. Michelle had, from the very first moment, touched something in him he was unable to explain. He recalled when she blushed slightly, telling him she was not really in trouble, had seen him on TV and wanted to meet him.

Having fans was something Wesley did not think he would ever get used to. It would have been the professional, the RIGHT thing to do, to tell her how flattered he was, give her an autograph and never see her again. It was what Angel would have done. But that was exactly what Wesley could not bring himself to do.

Instead, he had started dating Michelle. Had taken her to the movies, to the theater, and tonight they were even going to see a ballet. He had known the woman for three days only, yet it was enough for him to know he was deeply in love. To his shame, Wesley realized he had not even watched Big Brother for the last few days.

It was about time to turn on the TV to see how his friends were doing.

*

"Five minutes to go for the task," Angel announced and slowly walked down the row of portraits, pleased with the work of his pupils.

Xander had drawn Willow as Supergirl, comic-like, but clearly recognizable, while Willow had placed him under a Christmas tree, next to Snoopy.

"I couldn't think of anything else," she apologized.

Cordelia had not seen Anya's portrait of her before. However, she was pleased to see Anya had dressed her in a rich dress with a powdered whig.

"I'm a queen," Cordelia declared with unconcealed pride.

Angel smiled inwardly. He would not be the one to tell her Anya had portrayed her as Madame Pompadour.

Anya had a look at Cordelia's picture. Anya was painted with poisonous snakes instead of hair, her face strangely distorted as it was mirrored in a shining kite shield. "You see me as Medusa?" Anya asked.

"I'm sorry," Cordelia replied.

"Why?" Anya asked back, "I love it!"

Angel shook his head. One could not argue about taste.

The portraits of Giles, Tara and Riley were much less spectacular, but probably good enough to pass the task this time. Faith and Spike, however, were the ones he was most worried about.

Faith was lying on a bed, her hair black, her body hung with jewels, a serpent curling at her feet.

"Cleopatra?" Angel asked.

"I could not help but see a parallel," Spike said smiling.

"So did I," Faith added.

Angel had to make great efforts not to burst into laughter. "Spike as Santa Claus???"

Faith shrugged. "The haircolor almost fits, as does the age... no offence."

Buffy was the last one in line. Her canvas was covered with a black veil.

"What about you?" Angel asked, without raising his eyes to meet her gaze.

"You first," Buffy said. She did not ask, she commanded.

"I'm afraid I don't have as much imagination as others here," Angel admitted. Then he disclosed the portrait.

Buffy caught her breath. The portrait was drawn entirely in black and white, coal being the material used. Every day material for an every day situation. At least for everyone else. The background was the kitchen of a well-known house at Sunnydale. She was preparing dinner for her friends. She wore a blouse with wide sleeves, her hair tied loosely in a knot behind her head. Her cheeks were reddened by the steam in the kitchen. She barely recognized her own face, which showed the features she saw in the mirror every morning, but through someone else's eyes, seeing a grace and beauty she never thought she possessed.

"Thanksgiving," Buffy said with surprise. She recognized the perspective. The scene was drawn as seen through one of the large windows, from the shadows.

Angel was anxious to direct the attention of the others away from himself. "Show me yours," he said.

Buffy, still rapt with the impact of Angel's picture, drew aside the veil.

Angel stared at the picture. It was showing him, yes, but his face was not pale, one could almost call it slightly tanned, and sunlight reflexes were playing in his hair. Behind him, there was the shadow of a woman, no, of Buffy. It was her size, her figure. It took no efforts to recognize the scene. "Santa Monica Bay," he said quietly. "This is a beautiful picture, Buffy."

"You think so?" she whispered.

Angel tried to keep his voice from trembling as he said, "It's better than my own. I had no idea you had such a gift for painting."

"I can't explain it," Buffy replied, "It was as if I didn't just make the scene up. It was as if I were painting... a memory."

Angel decided this conversation was taking a dangerous turn. "You were probably at Santa Monica Bay some time you visited your dad."

Buffy frowned and regarded him closely for a moment. "No..." she said reluctantly, having the unexplicable feeling she ought to remember something about Santa Monica Bay... but it was gone. Then she nodded. "That's probably the explanation, yeah. Thanks for the compliments, anyway. I couldn't have done it without you." She attempted a smile to break the tension of the situation. "Together, we're strong!"

All of a sudden, before the mind's eye, she saw a burning jewel. A voice cut through her mind like a knife. Together, you were powerful --- alone, you are dead.

Buffy went ghastly pale.

Angel made a move towards her, but backed away as Riley rushed to her side to support her. "Buffy, are you okay?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. I think I'm not getting enough sleep lately, working on the picture to finish it and such."

"You sure you don't want to sit down?"

"I'm okay, thank you."

Cordelia cast Angel a reproachful look.

*

"She knows, Angel!" Cordelia burst out when she finally was alone with the vampire, "How long are you going to lie to her?"

"As long as I must, which is, like, for ever," Angel retorted.

"You can't hide it from her for ever," Cordy disagreed, "How much longer still? A week? A month? How long will it take until she remembers everything? How long until she remembers the most precious day the two of you ever had?"

"Would you please be silent, Cordelia?" Angel looked around uncomfortably. "The cameras, these thin walls, the... secrets! Don't shout, she'll hear you!"

"That might be best, after all!" Cordy exclaimed.

A dangerous sparkle gleamed in Angel's eyes. "Careful," he said in a low voice.

"Go on, try to scare me, nominate me, fire me if you must. That doesn't change the fact she doesn't love Riley, she loves you!"

"No."

"You saw her picture! You know it!"

Angel turned away. "Even if it was so, it would be beside the point."

"Beside the point, huh?" Cordy shook her head. "All right, keep your silence. But remember I told you nothing good would come from it!"

*

"What did that mean?" Riley asked in a challenging way.

"What did what mean?" Buffy asked innocently.

"The portrait. When was that, Santa Monica Bay? And why the sunlight? You told me he had been a... he had this sun allergy before you ever met?"

"I never was there with Angel," Buffy replied.

"Is that so? So it was your own fantasy? You are fantasizing about a..."

"The cameras," Buffy hissed.

"I'm sick of the cameras! They are not the reason you're avoiding me!"

"I don't know what your problem is! We've passed the task, right?"

"Right," Riley said bleakly.

*

"... probably the worst ballet I've ever seen!" Wesley said laughing.

"Yeah, and that he dropped the girl, I still can't believe it!" Michelle added, still giggling at the thought.

They had arrived at her apartment.

Michelle was opening her handbag to get her keys. "So, here we are," she said, a little more serious now.

"Got your keys?"

Michelle waved them at Wesley. "Got them."

Wesley cleared his voice. "So, good night then."

Michelle cast her eyes down shyly. "Do I see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely," Wesley replied quickly.

"Good," Michelle said, looking at him.

Their eyes locked.

Spontaneously, Michelle laid her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Wesley returned her kiss with an intensity he had not even felt with Cordelia. Michelle was so different, a beautiful woman who had deliberately sought him out, captured him with her kiss so full of promise.

For the first time ever, the rogue demon hunter regretted he had to break the kiss to breathe. "I'd better go."

"Tomorrow at eight?"

"I'll be here."

"Good night."

Wesley smiled. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

Then he disappeared into the dark.

Michelle unlocked the door and entered her apartment.

As she turned on the lights, she saw a familiar figure sitting on her sofa. "Are you crazy? Sitting in my dark living room? I could have asked him in!"

Dave laughed. "If you had, I would've been gone before he knew I was there. So, how are you getting on with Prince Charles?"

Michelle shook her head. "I can't just talk about Angel with him, he would get suspicious soon. Besides, he's really cute."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite? Cute?!"

"Yeah, he's... different! I mean, he says flat, not apartment, he actually uses adverbs, and that accent of his is really sexy. I like him, and I don't really see why I should rush this."

"Careful, Michelle, don't forget we're doing this for our story! If we can't write a sensational article, our magazine will be history! You don't want to make coffee at Ohio State Times again, do you."

Michelle shook her head. "I just don't wanna hurt anyone."

"Then you'd better get some real information soon, before he invests too much feeling. Hey, it's business!"

"I'm not some prostitute, Dave, I really have the feeling this could work out. Let's drop the plan."

Dave shook his head. "We can't drop the plan. Just imagine yourself telling good old Wes you're a reporter, he'll never even look at you again, and you won't have a story either! There's only one way this can work out. Soothe him into telling you everything he knows about Angel, and then, hasta la vista."

"I'm sorry, Riley," Buffy said, you've hardly said a word since yesterday, and I thought I should apologize. I'm really sorry. Listen, Riley, I love you. Angel doesn't mean anything to me any more."

Riley looked up. "Prove it."

"How?"

"Nominate him."

Buffy shook her head. "He's still a friend!"

"As almost everyone in this house, the argument doesn't work with me!"

"I can't nominate Angel, he saved our week's task!"

"Now you're giving him too much credit!"

Buffy sighed. "All right, Riley, as soon as Faith and Spike have left, I will have to nominate a friend, sooner or later. But while I don't have to, I won't. Okay?"

Riley was saved by the bell - an answer was unneccessary, as the speakers called them to the second nomination of the game.

*

Wesley was having a shower when the door bell rang.

"Why now?" he complained silently, "Just one hour to go for the date with Michelle, I don't have time to help a hopeless now!"

Nevertheless, he put on a dressing gown and went to open the door.

Wesley was surprised to see Michelle. "Hi," he said, puzzled, "I thought I was to pick you up at eight?"

"I know," Michelle replied. "Sorry if I disturb you, I can come back later, if..."

"No," he hurried to say, "You don't disturb me at all, come in."

"Thanks."

Michelle entered the apartment and looked around.

Wesley's apartment normally was the spitting image of a furniture catalogue advertisement, however, he had been researching, therefore books and articles on demonology were scattered all over the rooms.

"Excuse the mess," Wesley apologized.

"That's nothing, you should see my apartment," Michelle replied.

"I would have tidied this mess a little, I just didn't expect you."

"Yeah." Michelle took a deep breath. "I have to talk to you about something."

"Oh. Okay." He hastily put away some books from the sofa. "Have a seat."

"No, thanks." She sighed. "This is important. I have something to say."

Wesley focused his attention on her. He stood close to Michelle to regard the expression on her face, for he had left his glasses in the bathroom. He could tell from the look in her eyes this would probably be getting serious.

Michelle felt helpless. She had come to tell Wesley the truth. He should know she was a reporter, and then tell her he never wanted to see her again. Even if it meant she was out of the job, she would not be part of Dave's dirty little game. She felt too much respect and admiration for Wesley to lie to him any longer.

"We haven't known each other for very long," she began, "And I started our relationship with a lie. I called you at the agency and pretended I needed help, whereas my real motive for wanting to see you was Big Brother."

"We've talked this over," Wesley attempted to reassure her, "That's okay with me! You've seen me on TV and wanted to meet me. Well, unusual, yes, but at least SOMETHING good came out from Big Brother for me."

"You still don't know everything yet. I still lied to you, Wes."

He frowned. "Did you?"

"I told you I was a secretary. That wasn't true." Michelle felt she had to tell him face to face she was a reporter. As she raised her eyes, her courage failed her. His hair still wet from the shower, the light dressing gown revealing he was more muscular than the usual suits would let suppose, and without the obstacle of glasses, she got a perfect glance into his piercing blue eyes.

"I know," Wesley replied softly, taking her into his arms. "I know who you are."

"What?" Michelle whispered.

"You're unemployed. That's nothing you have to be ashamed for. I can't help a lot, but as long as Cordelia is still in the house, I could use some support with the agency. It wouldn't be permanent, and I can't pay you a lot either, unfortunately, however, ..."

Michelle's resolution melt away. She could not tell him now.

Instead, she kissed him. "So we'd better not go out tonight," she whispered.

*

"Hello, Faith."

"Hi, Oliver! How you doin'?"

"We're fine on the outside, you in the house have made time pass really fast for us. Have you enjoyed your weekly task as much as we have?"

Faith grimaced. "Looking at Spike for hours is not a pleasure, it's hard work."

"Can we conclude your nominations from this?"

Faith frowned. She looked puzzled. "Yes... No... I don't know. Hey, that's weird. When I came into the statement room, I was so sure whom I wanted to nominate... but my stomach tells me to change my mind. Strange. Well... okay, first nomination, with two votes, is Tara."

Oliver was completely surprised. "Why Tara?"

Faith shook her head. "Actually, I wanted to say Giles... but out came Tara, I have no idea why. And number two... Willow. That's quite logical, but actually I like her, so I can't tell why I'm saying her name..." In total confusion, Faith rose from the chair. "Have to think about this. See you next week."

*

With a superior grin as usual, Spike took a seat.

"Hello, Spike, welcome on air to Big Brother. Did you enjoy your week?"

Spike smirked. "If you've been watching, yeah, Faith was quite a nice sight to portray, though I can think of much more interesting things to do with her, but let's leave it there. You want my nominations." For a moment, Spike held his aching head. Strange, at a merely verbal assault, his chip had never caused him any pain. "First, I could do without Cord..." Suddenly, the pain seemed to crush his brain. "That's unfair, it didn't hurt at the first nomination! All right, no!" he groaned, wondering what that was. Why couldn't he nominate Cordelia without pain? "I wouldn't be too sad if someone left, that someone being Ri.... OUCH!" He buried his head in his hands. "...Ri...ght in the living room." His chip had to be malfunctioning. It even hurt when, for a fraction of a second, he thought about nominating Angel, and Angel was not even human. "Okay, what about Tara?" Spike burst out. Then the pain subsided. "Yeah, Tara is good. And second vote..." He hesitated. "Maybe Willow?" He expected agonizing pain, but it did not come.

"Thank you, Spike. Would you send Angel in?"

*

"Hi, Angel."

Angel looked at the camera and smiled. "Hi."

At that stage of his nomination, about ten teenagers in the audience had fainted.

"We enjoyed your picture of Buffy very much," Oliver told him, "If you leave the house, and there should be several galleries queuing to exhibit your works, would you consider a career as an artist?"

Angel shook his head. "I'm not that spectacular, Oliver."

"Well, let's hope your nomination is. Whom do you want to see the back of, Angel?"

Angel wanted to say the two names he had in mind, Riley being on top of the list, but strikingly, he was unable to. "I would like to vote for Tara and Willow," he said, not knowing why. Sure, Tara had been on his list for fairness reasons, but he had never considered giving her two votes, and Willow had been beyond discussion.

"Can you give us a reason, Angel?"

"I must admit I'm not sure. I'm sorry."

*

"Hi, fans, hello, Hollywood, I hope you've been watching!" Cordelia smiled radiantly as she took the seat in the statement room. "You want me to give you two names, don't you?" Then, suddenly, the vision struck her.

The images of the witches.

"Are you all right, Cordelia? Are we to send a medical team?"

"No, I'm fine," Cordelia replied, her voice trembling. "I nominate Tara and Willow."

"Do you have any particular motive to do so?"

"I'm not sure. Somehow, I thought, they might be in danger here."

*

Riley looked self-assured. "I want to tell you all in advance that my nomination does not result from any kinds of irrational fear to lose my girlfriend. Buffy and I have a very strong, special feeling for each other. Secondly, it has nothing to do with competition for the prize money. But it's gotta be someone, so, this time, it's Tara and Willow..." He interrupted himself. "Did I say that?"

*

Willow pulled Tara into the barn. "All right, no excuses," she demanded, "I just nominated you!!! And you and I are on the list, nominated by virtually everyone in the house except ourselves! As if we were the only persons in the Bog Brother house! What did you do?"

"I?" Tara asked innocently.

"You put us under a spell, admit it!"

Tara cast her eyes down. "Sorry. I was unhappy here."

Willow embraced her girlfriend. "You could have said something. You're so stupid, Tara, and I love you so much for it. You shouldn't have done that to the group. Anyway, it's done. Let's just hope it has no consequences. If you are voted off by the viewers, I'll go with you."

*

Michelle was starting to feel cold. She could not find her own clothes, which supposedly were lying anywhere on the floor, where they had been ripped off in the storm of their first passions, and she could not use Wesley's dressing gown, for it was still wet.

She crept out of the bed and headed for the closet. Probably she would find a second dressing gown or one of Wesley's shirts there.

The hinges of the closet door creaked.

Michelle smiled. He had an awful lot of suits and neatly ironed white shirts. And black leather? She longed to see him in that. And what was this? A wide t-shirt reading "I killed a Bergh'Mahn demon and all I got was this lousy shirt" ???? Michelle frowned. The back side read: "Congratulations, Wes! With love from Cordy and Angel". If that was supposed to be funny? It looked personal, somehow, so she decided not to put on that one. She decided to search the drawers for more t-shirts. Crucifixes? She had not thought him that religious. Could do no harm, could they? What else did he have? Pretty normal things, socks, underwear, a crossbow... A crossbow? And what was that? Holy Water? Stakes?

Michelle had had her wild college years, but none of her lovers had ever filled his drawers with weapons, and what was more, unusual weapons as these.

What was going on here?

She cast an uneasy look at the bed, noticing with relief Wesley was still sleeping. After a while, she found a t-shirt and put it on. Her curiosity prevented her from returning to the bed.

She opened another door and stood in the library. Michelle investigated the library more closely. She read the titles. A smile crossed her face.

As she was walking down the shelves, the smile froze.

Michelle's legs were shaking. "No, this can't be true," she whispered to herself. Now she needed a drink.

Still not completely in her senses, she opened the fridge to help herself to some cold milk. As expected, a bachelor's fridge was not too full of edible things. Yet a small storage box attracted her attention.

Spare rations Angel, the label on the box said.

Her curiosity got the best of her, and she opened it ---- freezing in the movement with a shriek. Blood packs.

"Oh my God," Michelle cried. "I have to get the hell out of here."