Saturday

"So what's the big deal?" the smaller of the two boys crouched in the bushes muttered to his partner. "We've been sitting here for half an hour and I don't see nothing."

"Trust me, Max," his companion assured him. "It's almost eleven-thirty. She's been coming out here every night this week."

Max rubbed absently at his neck. "She better be. You sure we're not sitting in poison ivy? Cause if I break out again, Benny, I swear--"

"Shh!" Benny elbowed him, pointing. "Here she comes!"

The tall redhead strode towards the water's edge calmly, confidently, her movements as smooth and mercurial as the rippling surface of the lake. She walked like a model striding down the runway, almost as if she was perfectly aware she was being spied on. As she reached the lake, she kicked off her sandals, dipping a toe into the water as if to test it.

"Yeah, yeah, the water's fine, honey," Benny muttered from his vantage point in the bushes. "Go ahead, take a swim. Nobody's gonna see you."

She decided it was sufficient, and after a quick glance about, began to shed her clothes. Instead of hastily shuffling out of her jacket, tank top, and shorts, she took her time, letting each garment drop to the ground. With the last of her clothing discarded on the grass, she dived into the dark water, going under for a moment before resurfacing, her red hair glistening water-slicked against her skull. She treaded water for a few moments, humming some unknown tune before stopping and squinting. If Max didn't know better, he could have sworn she was staring right at them. Almost as if she heard his thoughts, she smiled, her green eyes fixating right on them.

"You two can either watch," she called, "or you can join me."

Both boys froze at that invitation. "No way," Max whispered. "She can't."

"I can see you just fine," she purred, leaning back a bit in the water to give them a better look. Her red hair floated about her in the water like a cloud as she gave them a teasing smile. "Are you two men going to get in here, or am I going to have to swim all by myself?"

Max sat back on his heels, confused. Benny was already stripping off his shirt, murmuring, "Thank you, God, thank you, thank you, thank you..."

"What are you doing?" Max hissed as Benny stood up, stripping down to his boxers. "Isn't this a little too weird?"

Benny glanced over at the woman again, who was floating on her back in the water. "Too weird? There's a naked woman who wants us to go skinny-dipping with her, and all you can say is 'too weird?' Maxie, you can go back and hide under your bed, but I'm not going to pass this up because it's 'too weird.'" He started off, but paused. "You coming?"

Max thought about it. As he did, the woman began to hum again, an odd, eerie melody that she seemed to be making up as she went along. The music seemed to wrap around his brain, smothering the small part of him that was telling him it was wrong. Desire flamed in him all of a sudden, and he began pulling off his shirt.

They thundered into the water at the same time, swimming out towards her. "That's more like it," she commented, letting a slight Germanic accent slip into her voice. As they reached her, the smile on her face became sharklike. "Catch me if you can!" With that, she dived beneath the surface.

"Hey!" Benny cried. "Where the hell'd she go?"

"Probably gonna steal our clothes," Max snapped, treading water and casting about for any sign of the beauty. "I told you this was a bad idea."

"Yeah, well--" Benny stopped, an odd expression on his face. "Whoa! Man, was that you?"

"What are you talking about?" Max cried as something smooth brushed against his legs.

Benny was chuckling. "Guess she's not gonna steal our clothes, huh?"

She surfaced between them, this time only up to her chin. "Believe me, boys, it's not your clothes I want." As Benny and Max grinned, her eyes suddenly flared crimson. "I'd much prefer your lives."

With that, a huge webbed claw punched through the surface of the water, grabbing Benny's head and yanking him under. Max screamed, but he was cut short as a tentacle lashed out of nowhere and coiled around his neck. The woman and the two boys disappeared beneath the surface in a churning, frothing whirlpool of scales and blood. Within a few moments, the struggles subsided and the bubbles faded. It was all over.

Several feet away, up the hill, an old van was parked on the shoulder of the turnpike. The man leaning against the van watched the carnage from afar with jaded disinterest. He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before blowing out a cloud of blue smoke. "Any time now," he murmured, checking his watch.

As if on cue, the surface rippled, and she rose up from the lake, the water cascading over her hair and shoulders as she stepped onto the shore and gathered up her things, nonchalantly striding towards the van with her clothes in her arms and a satisfied smile on her face. "Have a good swim?" he asked, his voice muffled by the cigarette between his teeth.

She ignored the jibe, her manner all business. "Satisfying." With that, she opened the door and climbed in.

He paused, eyeing the clouds that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. "Storm be brewing, people," he annnounced as he flicked the cigarette away and opened the driver side door. "Let's move out."

Sunday

The young man groaned, cracking his eyes open to meet the bright sunlight streaming in through the window. He winced at the sharp pain in his head, shutting his eyes tightly and rolling over again. The last time he'd had such a hangover was the morning after his twenty-first birthday. Of course, he hadn't been on active duty then.

Mike Corbett opened his eyes again, suddenly awake. Sunlight? On the space station, there was a decent artificial weather system, but the last time he checked his quarters were on the lower level.

He sat straight up, blinking as his surroundings came into focus. Instead of his quarters on Terra Venture, he was lying in bed in someone else's bedroom, with the sunlight pouring in from the window beside his bed. Sitting up, he could glimpse through the window the trimmed lawns and neat sidewalks of a suburban street. For a few seconds, Mike just stared around him in utter confusion, wondering where he was and how he had come there.

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, memory finally surfaced. The previous night was a montage of blurry images - being roused and helped out to a car, trying to stay awake during the drive, being ushered into an apartment. He somehow remembered having the strength to get a shower before collapsing into bed.

"So it wasn't a dream," he mumbled hoarsely. "Damn."

His pants and a clean black t-shirt were draped over a nearby chair. Groaning, Mike swung his legs out of bed, forcing himself to stand up despite the stiffness in his back and legs. He stretched, trying to ignore the complaints in his muscles, and got a decent look at himself in the mirror. Mike made a face as he gingerly touched the bandaged cut on his forehead; it was still a little tender. For the most part, he looked like a punching bag, but it was mostly a few scattered cuts and bruises. Considering what had happened, he was lucky.

Snapping himself back into reality, he pulled on the clean clothes, relieved to find that they fit, and then his old sneakers that had been left by the bed. Kai would have had a fit if he knew that Mike had gotten away with black Nikes instead of the regulation shoes, but no one had ever noticed when he reported for duty.

He stopped at that thought, trying to gather up the reality of his situation. As far as Kai knew, he was dead and gone. Same for Kendrix, Maya, Damon, and Leo. Leo, who was probably giving himself the mother of all guilt trips right now. His younger brother was anything but a stickler for the rules, but when it came down to it he cared about what mattered. Maybe too much. Mike sighed, wishing he could just call up Leo and tell him he was all right, that he wasn't dead.

Then if that was true, where the hell was he? Mike had grown up in California, and he'd never heard of a town called Sunnydale. Not that he knew every town in the state. But something still seemed off. He remembered what the blonde - Buffy, what a name - had called him: "a Starship Troopers extra."

She hadn't recognized the uniform. With the massive media circus that had revolved around the formation of the GSA and then Terra Venture's launching, you'd have to live under a rock not to recognize it. So if he'd fallen into a portal to Earth somehow, this Earth was one that didn't have either the station or the GSA. Maybe it was some sort of time hole?

His headache was getting worse the more he tried to puzzle it over. Down the hall, he could hear voices and smell something cooking. Sighing, Mike stumbled into the bathroom, splashing some cold water on his face and combing his hair out of his eyes with his fingers before turning towards the stairs. Any speculation could wait until after breakfast.

"Don't you ever knock?" Giles did not look up from the stove as Buffy walked into the kitchen, having entered on her own.

Buffy showed not a twinge of guilt as Xander appeared beside her, with Cordelia in tow. "You didn't lock your door."

Xander spotted the bacon and eggs, and his eyes lit up. "Hey, new diet, Giles? Care to share with the rest of us?"

"Translation: Mind letting Xander inhale all of it?" Cordelia put in. At the wounded look he gave her, she sighed. "Oh, come on. We've all seen you eat."

Glancing at the clock, Giles sighed. "I may just have to." He turned off the stove, scraping some of the scrambled eggs onto a plate, offering some to Xander and Buffy in turn. "I'll pass," Cordelia said as he glanced at her. "I'm trying to cut out fat in my diet."

Xander snorted. "You don't know what you're missing."

"You eat enough for the both of us." As Giles continued to look at her expectantly, she sighed. "Maybe some orange juice. But not the kind with the little bits of pulp floating in it."

The Watcher sighed. "It's not as if there isn't enough to go around." He passed her a glass of orange juice, and she immediately took a seat.

"Oh, yeah," Buffy said, sitting down at the kitchen table. "How's Sleeping Beauty doing?"

"Still sleeping, I believe," Giles said as Xander sat down beside Cordelia. He set plates in front of them and reached for the teapot. "I thought I heard something moving upstairs, but he hasn't emerged yet."

Cordelia frowned. "So any idea who this guy is?"

"Uh, no, Cordy, he didn't give us his life story," Xander spoke between mouthfuls of food as he shoveled it down.

"I meant, like a demon in disguise," she retorted. "You know, along the lines of ugly, hairy, follicle-handicapped, vicious things?"

Buffy couldn't suppress a small smile. "Oh, no, it's not like we ever get any of those around here."

"We can rule out nocturnal demons," Giles answered. "The window in the guest room lets quite a bit of sunlight in, and when I checked it didn't affect him."

"I don't know," Xander said, still speaking with his mouth full. "Maybe some demon sent him or something." As Giles shot him a look, he added, "These are good eggs."

Shaking his head, Giles finished pouring the tea and sat down across from them, a steaming mug in his hands. "I'm not entirely sure. The storm that accompanied his arrival had a rather familiar configuration; it was fairly reminiscent of the energy discharge from a spell of summoning. However, supernatural creatures are often summoned."

"I didn't pick up anything weird about him," Buffy said. "Aside from the fact he fell out of a vortex."

"Not to mention that outfit," Cordelia added. "Talk about a Star Wars reject."

"Starship Troopers," Buffy corrected her.

Cordelia sipped at the juice cautiously. "Whatever, they're all the same."

Giles set down the tea. "Funny you should mention clothing." Standing up, he went into the living room. He returned with an olive colored jacket in his hands. "This jacket looked oddly military. Xander, you wouldn't recall anything from the - er, the Halloween incident - that could corroborate this?"

Xander took the jacket from him, looking it over. "Doesn't look familiar." He turned it over, peering at the insignia on the sleeve. "Hey, there's a logo here: 'GSA.' I don't know what that stands for."

"Greater Soccer Association?" Cordelia suggested. "Well," she added defensively, "I've heard of them."

"Galactic Security Agency," a voice answered. They all turned to see a very tired Mike standing in the doorway. There was a brief moment of tension before he yawned and shrugged tiredly. "That's what it was last week, at least."

Xander opened his mouth to comment, but Cordelia kicked him before he could put his foot in it. Buffy spoke up before either of them could say something tactless. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Couple minutes. Not long." He shook his head to clear it, yawning again. "There enough for five?"

"There's enough for an army," Cordelia observed, shooting Giles a look. The Watcher merely raised an eyebrow in response. "If you sit down now," she added, checking her watch, "you might get some before Xander inhales it all."

Xander shook his fork at her, nearly flicking bits of egg on the table. "I'm a growing boy." She smiled over her glass of orange juice. Shaking his head, Mike pulled up a chair.

Regaining his composure, Giles passed a plate over to Mike. "I - I take it you slept well?"

"Like the dead," Mike answered.

Xander started coughing at that, and was silenced by another swift kick from Cordelia. "Ow! Watch it, Cordy, I kind of like having my ankles intact."

At Mike's questioning look, Buffy shrugged and smiled. "Bad choice of words."

Mike was silent for a long moment before speaking. "I'm not - I'm not a demon or anything. At least, not the last time I checked."

"Hmm?" Xander answered, feigning confusion well through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"When the people you're staying with talk about demons and the supernatural like it's an everyday thing," Mike continued, rubbing his eyes, "it's kind of hard not to listen in."

Buffy sighed. "So much for pretending this was a normal morning."

Xander finally spoke without a full mouth. "Hey, somebody had to say it."

"Look," Mike interrupted, "I don't know what's going on or what the hell I'm doing here, but I'm guessing you know a bit more than I do."

"Perhaps," Giles admitted, removing his glasses briefly to clean them - the usual routine prior to an uncomfortable explanation. "Your appearance, such as it was, doesn't rank as one of the more odd occurrences in Sunnydale in the past few years. It's a long story, really, you see--"

Before he could launch into a long and fairly awkward explanation, Xander swallowed his mouthful and cut in. "Vampires are real. A lot of them live in Sunnydale. Buffy kills them. Has a lot to do with the fact the Mouth of Hell's right under this town."

"Okay, maybe not so long," Buffy added.

"Thank you, Xander," Giles snapped, putting his glasses back on. "I think."

Mike's reaction was probably the most profound response one could make. "Oh."

His gaze flicked to Buffy, who nodded, her expression sincere. "It's true. I know it sounds weird, but it's true."

For a few moments, he simply sat there, going over something in his mind. "No," Mike finally decided, shaking his head. "It's not that weird. Not this week." Something else occurred to him. "What's the date?"

"November 22," Cordelia replied promptly. Seeing that the answer wasn't entirely satisfying, she added, "Uh, 1998." Mike winced. "Was that wrong?"

His only response was to groan and put his head in his hands.

Buffy reached over and took the jacket from Xander, inspecting the logo thoughtfully. "Galactic Security Agency," she repeated, turning to Mike. "I'm guessing that wasn't the date on your calendar."

He didn't lift his head. "Nope."

Giles waited a few moments before breaking the confused silence that followed. "I suppose that we all have quite a bit of explaining to do. That is," he added, "if we have any hope of figuring out what's going on."

The reaction was not very promising. Xander immediately dug back into the eggs. Cordelia became suddenly interested in her nails. Buffy looked up at the ceiling. Mike did not lift his head and appeared to be deep in concentration. From Giles' experience, the young man was most likely wondering what crime he'd committed in another life to deserve this kind of mess. Giles had pondered that several times himself.

Buffy's ceiling contemplation was brief, since no one seemed all that eager to jump in. "Okay," the Slayer decided. "How about we discuss after breakfast?"

No one had any cause to argue.

"This is IT?"

Sticking his head out the window like a dog panting for air, Malik peered at the landscape in disbelief. Considering he was driving the van that was cruising past the rather worn "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign into town, it was surprising that the vehicle was moving in a straight line.

A hand shot out, grabbed a fistful of his dreadlocks and yanked him back into the cab. "Dammit, eyes on the road!"

"Owowowow! Knock it off, woman!" He recovered fairly gracefully, pulling over beside the curb before anything worse could happen. "And I use the term lightly," he added as she loosened her grip. "'Sides, Lori, you got to admit. This does not look like the place."

She did not answer, but opened the door and stepped out into the cool early-morning air, her eyes scanning for something that only she could see. For a few moments, she was silent as the other four occupants of the van stepped out as well. "You've got a point," she muttered reluctantly, looking disparagingly at the tame-looking scenery. "Although..."

"This is it," a voice interrupted. The petite girl grinned, her smile a baring of teeth. "We're almost on top of the focus. Can't you just taste it?" she squealed, spinning around with arms wide as if to embrace everything around her. "We're going to have a blast."

"Someone's had too much caffeine," Malik muttered.

But Lori was shaking her head, lost in her own thoughts. "Don't underestimate her," she responded quietly. "Not after the stunt she pulled in Cleveland. She's as valuable as any of us."

He nodded, lowering his voice. "So what's the plan this time, babe? Get a packed house, feed, and split before they catch on?"

She chuckled at that. "They never catch on, you know that. But here...I think we should take a different approach."

"What happened last night?" Oz asked as his girlfriend stumbled towards the front doors of Sunnydale High, trying to balance the ten or so books in her arms. Sighing, he reached over and took a good portion of the stack from her hands, hefting it with more ease than she. "Other than the usual?"

"Oz, you don't have to carry all that!" Willow exclaimed, pouting a bit. "I can do it quite well by myself, thank you very much."

He smiled fondly at that as they reached the front door. "Yeah, but now you get to open the door for me."

Before she could act, the door swung open. "What took you guys so long?" Buffy asked.

"Buffy, I was going to open it," Willow pouted. "And we're not that late."

"I know." The Slayer shrugged as the two teenagers entered the building. "But I'm so used to being the one late for everything that I just wanted to say that."

"Like I was asking Will, what did I miss?" Oz asked as they followed Buffy down the corridor.

"Same old, same old," Buffy answered. "Patrolled, staked a few vamps, although Giles didn't find any prophecies to worry about. Although we know that electrical storm couldn't have been natural."

Oz raised an eyebrow. "That storm shorted out the power at the Bronze for half an hour. If it wasn't natural, what caused it?"

"We don't know," Willow confessed. "But then it opened up this weird gray vortex in the middle of the library and this guy fell out."

"On the Hellmouth, that can't be a coincidence," Buffy added.

Something occurred to Willow. "You find anything out about Mike yet?" At Oz's questioning look, she explained, "The guy who fell out of the vortex."

"Aside from the fact that he eats like Xander, not much. That's kind of what Giles called everybody down here to discuss." Buffy paused as the meaning of Oz's uncharacteristically wordy statement sunk in. "The power went out for half an hour? How long was it before the rioting started?"

Oz shrugged. "Forty-three seconds. Must be a record." He stopped at the doors of the library and looked at his girlfriend expectantly. "Willow?"

Grinning, Willow pulled the door open as Buffy took some of Oz's burden. "Forty-three seconds?" Willow repeated as they walked into the library. "Wow. Either not a lot of people were drunk or they were so smashed it took a while to figure out the power was gone."

"It was after one a.m.," Oz reminded her.

"I'll take 'too smashed' for $200, Alex," Buffy quipped as Giles came out of the office. "Where do you want these?"

"Anywhere will do," Giles responded, wiping his brow. "They still haven't fixed the air conditioning system."

"Don't remind me," Cordelia moaned melodramatically, emerging from the stacks with Xander in tow. She fanned herself with a magazine, flopping into a chair. "November never seems to go below seventy-eight. It feels so gross in here!"

From their slightly disheveled states, it wasn't just the lack of air conditioning that had raised Cordelia's temperature. Giles raised an eyebrow, and Xander looked a little embarrassed. "Well, uh, it is kind of hot in here."

Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy could see the strange expression on Willow's face. She seemed disappointed, but almost...relieved, in a way. Buffy made a mental note to ask her friend if something was wrong. Willow had gotten over Xander a while ago, as far as anyone knew.

Mike emerged from the shelves on the other end of the library, where the few non-occult references were housed. He was flipping through the 1997 Almanac and looked thoroughly perplexed. "This doesn't make sense," he muttered. Giles cleared his throat, and Mike looked up, dazed. "Oh."

"Sorry," Buffy apologized. "Thought you'd like to know people were staring." As Willow cleared her throat, she added. "Oh, yeah. Mike, meet Oz. Oz, this is Mike, uh--"

"Corbett," Mike repeated for the third time that day. "How many people know about this?"

"Historically, the Slayer and her Watcher worked in secret," Giles started. "But from time to time, others have found out. It actually has been rather helpful."

Oz smiled ever so slightly. "Giles can't get rid of us."

Mike chuckled and turned his attention back to the almanac, looking somewhat perplexed. "What do you mean, it doesn't make sense?" Willow asked, bringing them back to the subject at hand.

Sighing, Mike ran a hand through his hair, setting the almanac down on the table. "It's not that I don't understand what I'm reading, it's just that a lot of things here didn't happen in 1997. Not for me, anyway."

Before anyone could react to that, another voice interrupted. "New blood?"

Everyone but Cordelia, who was still fanning herself, turned.

Leaning casually against the doorframe, the speaker smiled lazily. Mike managed to keep himself from staring, but he couldn't help giving her an appraising look. The girl standing there reminded him somehow of Maya, but any reason why she would completely escaped him - aside from the fact that she was gorgeous.

As he caught himself, he didn't notice that she was sizing him up as well, nor did he notice the appreciative look she shot Buffy. The blonde rolled her eyes.

"Nice of you to join us, Faith," Giles greeted calmly, without a trace of sarcasm.

"Could have used you last night," Buffy added as Faith strode over to join them.

The casual smile faded from Faith's face at that. "I - kind of had some personal stuff." At the concerned looks on Buffy and Giles' faces, she added hastily, "Couple of drunks in room 8 decided to come party with the girl next door."

"Didn't get very far?" Xander asked.

Faith snorted derisively. "I'm not their idea of the 'girl next door.'" Even Willow managed a small smile at that. "Like I said, who's this?"

Buffy sighed, pointing at people in turn. "Okay. Faith, Mike Corbett. Mike, Faith." She folded her arms. "Introductions done."

Unsatisfied, Faith turned to stare at Giles.

"Well, ah, Mike just seemed to drop in on us during the storm last night," Giles explained. "In a manner of speaking."

Cordelia translated. "Vortex opened up, he dropped out." Faith nodded, seeming unsurprised.

Mike shook his head. "Nothing surprises you people, does it?"

Willow, Xander, and Buffy answered in unison. "No."

Faith leaned against the table, almost sitting on top of it. "So what's the sitch, B?" she asked. "We gotta stop some demon from taking over the world?"

"The same thing we do every night, Pinky," Xander put in. Then he paused at the lack of reaction. "That joke doesn't work as well backwards, does it?"

"Not unless you're dyslexic," Cordelia shot back. "Oh, wait a minute..."

"Nothing so immediate." Giles answered the question, ignoring the two teenagers. "We're mainly trying to discover how, exactly, Mike ended up in Sunnydale. The storm that preceded his arrival had a somewhat familiar configuration."

Faith eyed the pile of books on the table with more than a touch of disdain before straightening up. "Sounds like a blast, but I've got stuff to do."

Giles was removing his glasses as he spoke. "Now - now, Faith, I honestly don't think--"

She didn't slow her pace a bit, calling out to Buffy as she walked out. "Patrol tonight?"

Buffy smiled. "Major slayage as always."

Faith strode to the door, opened it, and then paused, turning to Mike. "See you around, Corbett." With that, she was gone.

"All right," Mike began. "What, exactly, was that?"

"That was Faith," Buffy answered. "Slayer number two."

Beside her, Xander seemed to be in a trance. Cordelia nudged him, and he jumped in surprise. "You know, I think I might just try the stake-to-the-throat idea," the May Queen mused.

He grinned playfully. "Promise?"

Giles cleared his throat. "At this rate, I'm ready to start swinging about a battleax. Can we please return to the topic at hand here?" In the resulting silence, he nodded. "Good. Now about that almanac--" He stopped, recalling their conversation at breakfast. "What was the date before you landed here, so to speak?"

"November 21," Mike answered. "2006." Even Oz seemed mildly surprised at that, albeit only momentarily.

A few seconds passed before Xander broke the silence. "Sooo...that's eight years from now." He glanced over at Willow, half expecting her to correct him.

"Guess that explains the outfit," Buffy commented.

"I'm sorry," Cordelia interrupted. "But I do not want to live in a future with that absolute lack of fashion sense."

"So you're from the future," Oz repeated.

"Not from this future," Mike corrected. "Half the stuff that I know happened in 1998 either didn't happen or turned out completely different."

"It - it could just be inaccurate editions," Willow offered. "You know, when they make mistakes like spelling the Prime Minister's name wrong and flipping pictures around and, uh, that sort of thing."

Mike shook his head. "I doubt it. This is too far off." At the blank looks he got, he added, "According to my history: the Unabomber was some religious nut named Bill Gates, Monica Lewinsky had an affair with Newt Gingrich, Saddam Hussein aimed missiles at the '95 World Teen Summit and managed to blow himself up instead." He paused before finishing. "...and a bunch of aliens tried to nuke my hometown in '98. Same old, same old."

"I'm going to go out on a limb here," Xander guessed, "and say we're not dealing with typos."

"From what you're telling us, it sounds as though you're describing an alternate timeline of sorts," Giles proposed, starting to pace.

Willow pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Alternate timeline? Like alternate dimensions on Star Trek?"

"Possibly," Giles answered. "There are a few vague records of attempts to create temporal or spacial folds that result in - ah - interdimensional travel, I suppose. But that can only be achieved by either a supernatural force or someone with experience in complex magical arts."

"I fell into a crevice on an unknown planet," Mike put in, repeating himself from the previous night. "I don't know a thing about magic, and I'm still not completely buying what you told me at breakfast."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Xander interrupted. Cordelia elbowed him.

Mike continued, ignoring the jibe. "But everything that happened was so bizarre--" He trailed off helplessly, staring at the tabletop.

"What were you doing on some unknown planet anyway?" Buffy asked.

Mike's gaze remained fixated on the table. "We followed a girl through a portal on the moon."

"Ooookay," Cordelia added skeptically, "so what were you doing on the moon?"

At that, Mike closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "Looking for Jimmy Hoffa," he replied sarcastically before shaking his head. "It was a final training exercise, all right?"

It was Giles who broke the long silence that followed, putting a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Perhaps you should start from the beginning."

The Mayor did not look up as his next meeting entered his office. The curtains were appropriately drawn, plunging the room into darkness. "3:32 p.m. You're late."

Closing the door behind him, his visitor finally removed the long hooded coat and gloves, tossing them on the chair. "Evening meetings are more my style."

"If there's one thing that bothers me," Wilkins answered casually as he finished sorting papers, "it's a lack of cleanliness. But tardiness is right below that on the scale."

Trick chuckled. As bizarre as the Mayor of Sunnydale was, he liked the man's style too much to be put off by him. "It's not easy to cross town in a winter coat and gloves and still be...inconspicuous." He inclined his head at the air conditioner, which was blaring full blast. "I'm guessing this is important, enough to risk my life going out in broad daylight."

"Touche." Wilkins began to pace. "Under normal circumstances, my friend, I would have waited til sunset. But something rather last-minute has come up, and I'd like some of your men to look into it tonight."

The vampire did not sit down, but sought out a dark corner of the room, shadowed enough so that he could take cover if someone accidentally threw the curtains open. "I'm listening. What?"

"That brief electrical interference last night, to be exact," the Mayor explained. "The last time I saw a storm of that configuration, it usually accompanied a summoning, or a demon escaping its prison. Now I don't know about a summoning, but I don't have any sacrifices scheduled until a week from now. Besides, I've just been informed that a very important guest is coming into town. Anything more just throws off my entire itinerary."

Trick raised an eyebrow. "So somebody on your list got a little impatient."

"Maybe." Wilkins folded his arms. "And if that's true, I want it dealt with."

"I thought you always kept your campaign promises."

"Of course I do," Wilkins declared as he crossed the room and pulled the bottle of Scotch out of the cupboard. "But only if my clients keep theirs. Really, a man can't adequately govern without some form of organization. And since the eye of the storm was almost directly above the Hellmouth..."

Grinning, Trick shifted into his game face, his eyes like pinpricks of yellow light. "Then I'd better go renew my library card."

As Faith slammed the vampire's head into the concrete, she heard a familiar grunt and the faint hiss of the undead becoming dust. "Kind of late, aren't you, B?"

Buffy spun to block the next vampire's punch as Faith finally ceased her pounding and drove a stake through the half-conscious vampire in her grasp. "You missed a really good story."

For once, Faith didn't waste any time in dusting the next vampire that came at her. "Uh-huh. When Giles pulls out the books, it's time to go slay."

Turning, Buffy punched and staked the last one, leaving just the two of them in the alley. "Kind of. But I don't think they're going to find anything in Giles' books. They'd do better in the sci-fi section."

"Sci-fi?" Faith tried and failed to hide her interest. "Okay, B, you got me curious. Spill."

Buffy stopped and looked at her oddly. "Why are you so interested?"

"He's kind of hot, and I'm bored."

Buffy could only stare at her. "What?"

"Come on, B," Faith added. "He's got a nice ass, you've got to admit."

"I didn't really stop to check," Buffy answered, laughing in disbelief. "You're kidding."

"Look at the menu again," Faith pointed out. "You got Angel, sure, but the Hellmouth is the only thing this town's got going for it."

"That's not exactly how I'd put it." Buffy would have said more had not someone stepped from the shadows behind Faith. "Took you long enough."

She was speaking elsewhere, and Faith turned, turning serious she saw who it was. "Speak of the devil. Um, figuratively."

Still focusing on Buffy, Angel didn't take offense. "Sorry," he apologized quietly. "I had a few things to take care of."

"Doesn't everybody?" Buffy murmured.

Faith cleared her throat. "Earth to Buffy. Either give me details or we go find something to stake."

"What? Oh, yeah, Mike." Turning to Angel, she explained, "We got a really weird story out of the guy from last night, and I don't think Giles' books will cover it."

Angel frowned. "That's a first."

"Giles thinks he's from an alternate timeline," Buffy began as the three crossed the street, heading towards one of the many cemeteries in Sunnydale's city limits. "Last he checked, it was 2006, and a lot of stuff that happened for us didn't happen for him."

"So?" Faith asked.

Buffy sighed. "Three words: Monica and Newt Gingrich."

"That's four words," Angel corrected, smiling slightly.

Faith made a face. "That was an image I didn't need."

"Anyway, it's kind of a long, weird story why, but he was on this space station, ended up on some other planet, fell into a pit, and landed here." She paused for only a beat before adding, "Where are they already?"

It took the other two a second to realize what she was talking about. "I don't know," Angel answered. "You'd think we would have been attacked by now."

"It's been a slow night," Faith added. "Like I said, I'm bored. Patrol's been quiet."

Angel turned to meet Buffy's gaze. "Too quiet."

It didn't take a psychic for her to know what he was thinking. "Oh, God," Buffy cried, "not again!"

Something had gone wrong. Something had gone terribly wrong.

This was not his world. It was not his resting place. And he remained in energy form, as insubstantial as the mist. He clenched a fist - what passed for a fist - in frustration. Where was this place, and how had he come here, instead of transferring his life force? He should have been free and at full strength again, not a specter in some unknown place.

But the power was still with him. He simply lacked the substance to complement it. Which meant that something must have interfered in his attempt to escape from his prison. Casting about, he suddenly sensed what he was looking for.

It was not far away, a mile at the most, and it emanated great power. Dark power, a wellspring of it, taking in power and letting it sift through the cracks at the same time. Its energy was muffled, like a portal that had been temporarily shut but ready to burst open at any moment. But as evil as it felt, and as muffled as it was, its influence had been great enough to interfere with the transfer and pull him here.

But not just him. He was growing more and more aware by the minute, and he suddenly knew. The host he had chosen was also nearby. If not for the faint connection he had established, he would not have known.

Awake, his chosen would probably not agree to it so readily. But there was no other way. The mergence of life forces had already begun, and he would see it finished.

He had waited too long, and come too close, to let it go now. Right and wrong be damned; his enemies had to pay. No matter what it took.

With that, the Defender faded from sight.

"Next up...middle name?"

"You really need to know that?" Mike asked. At Willow's nod, he sighed. "Oh, hell, I'll forget a fake one anyway. Edgar." Xander started chuckling.

Sitting across from the laptop that Willow was working at, Cordelia asked loudly, "What are you laughing at, Xander LaVelle Harris?"

It was Mike's turn to snicker as Xander wandered over to peer over Willow's free shoulder. "That's it, mock my parents' cruelty. What're you up to?"

"Making some fake IDs," Willow answered. "If Mike's going to be here for a while, he's going to need identification, medical records, that kind of stuff. Oz knows someone who can do the IDs," she added, anticipating Xander's next question. "I'm just filling in the records."

Xander turned to Oz hopefully, but the musician was already shaking his head.

Willow glanced up from the computer. "Date of birth?"

"March 15..." Mike broke off, realizing something. "Wait, I'd have to push it back eight years. March 15, 1973."

Cordelia perked up. "'73? Maybe you should make the food runs for us." She glanced over at Xander as she added, "You could get us more than just donuts."

"You wound me, Cordy," Xander answered, turning back to Willow. "And you make him legal? Doesn't our long-time bond of friendship mean anything to you, Will?"

"Give her a break," Mike told him. "She's not making me anything. I'm twenty-five." To Willow, he added, "You're sure you can get away with this."

It was Giles who provided an answer. "I don't see why not," the Watcher said as he emerged from the book cage. "The police in Sunnydale regularly seem to ignore the implications of the high murder rate here. I doubt they'd bother much with background checks."

"Well, I'm going to be thorough," Willow declared. "Okay, place of birth."

Mike thought about it for a minute. Angel Grove was nowhere on the map, so he couldn't put down an honest answer. "Ummm...Northridge. We lived there a few years."

"Parents' names?"

"Mike and Catherine Corbett."

"Mother's maiden name?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"Nope."

"O'Donnell," Mike answered as the doors to the library were violently kicked open. "Oh, shit."

Giles looked up to see half a dozen vampires swarming into the library. "Not again," the Watcher murmured as he snatched up the nearest cross he could find. Cordelia shrieked and dived beneath the table as the vampires attacked.

Mike turned in time to see a fist headed straight for his face. He didn't have time to dodge, and the vampire caught him in the shoulder, sending him flying into the railing. Dazed, he stumbled to his feet as someone grabbed him by the shirt, lifting him into the air.

He looked up to see a twisted parody of a female face, now shriveled and warped with glowing yellow eyes. "New in town?" she purred, opening her mouth to reveal gleaming fangs.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what she was up to. "None of your business," Mike gasped, slamming a knee into her stomach. Surprised, she lost her grip on him and stumbled back a step, lunged for him again, and promptly exploded into nothingness.

Cordelia was standing there, having staked her with a pencil. She scowled at the pile of dust on the floor. "Slut."

Xander was grappling with another vampire, who hadn't noticed that the teenager already had a stake on him. With a grunt, he managed to twist around in time to drive the stake through his attacker's heart. The vampire's fangs were just about to sink into his flesh when they - and their owner - turned to dust.

"Stake through the heart," Mike muttered as he ducked another punch, delivering a roundhouse kick to his assailant's gut. "Got it." He made a mental note to thank his parents for letting him and his brother take martial arts in the first place, if he ever saw them again.

Clutching the laptop to her chest, Willow suddenly found herself backed into a corner by another vampire. Before he could pounce, though, Oz smashed a chair over the vampire's head. It barely fazed the vampire, but it distracted him enough for Willow to snatch up the splintered chair leg and stake the vampire with it.

Giles was suddenly beside Mike, fending off a vampire with a wooden cross. "This is ludicrous," the Watcher muttered as he shoved a stake and a bottle into Mike's hand. "We're eventually going to run out of chairs if this keeps up." Having said that, he turned to face a new attacker.

Mike caught a glimpse of the bottle's label. Holy water. It figured.

Something grabbed him from behind, and the stake slipped from his grasp. Still holding on to the bottle, Mike elbowed his attacker in the gut, breaking free and turning to face the vampire. The stake was out of his reach, so he dashed the bottle in the vampire's face.

With a howl of pain, the vampire staggered back, covering his face with his hands. Mike dropped to the ground, sweeping the vampire's legs out from under him. As his attacker crashed to the floor, Mike snatched up the stake and jumped to his feet, driving it through the vampire's chest. For a split second, he feared he'd missed the heart, but was relieved as the vampire collapsed into dust.

The next thing he knew, someone grabbed him by the shoulders and promptly threw him over the railing. Mike crashed into a bookshelf and crumpled to the floor with a groan.

It was a moment before he managed to lift his head and check to see how bad of a bump he'd gotten. It wasn't bleeding, but it felt tender. Mike cursed under his breath, then noticed that for the moment, he was being ignored.

He staggered to his feet, leaning against the railing for support. One of the vampires noticed him and charged. Mike silently prayed to whatever deity was listening, and somehow managed a wobbly tornado kick. By sheer luck it landed on target, sending the vampire flying backwards. But Mike was knocked off balance as well, and spun around, barely catching himself on the railing before he could flip over it again.

The sight that greeted him was not what he expected at all.

Over the central table, a patch of air was rippling, shimmering and distorting like an invisible wave of heat. The distortion seemed to take on a vaguely humanoid shape, standing right in the middle of the table - right above the Hellmouth. A few wisps of ghostly light shimmered at its edges, intensifying to outline the figure as it turned, surveying the room.

All activity in the library ceased as everyone, human and vampire alike, spotted the apparition. While the figure remained indistinct and faceless, Mike knew the moment its eyes locked on him. An icy chill went through him, and it felt as though its gaze had him bolted to the floor, unable to move. The specter lifted a hand to point at him, and then flickered and blurred away, gone as swiftly as it had come.

The entire performance had only lasted seven seconds.

"What the f--" one of the vampires began, briefly forgetting he was supposed to be attacking Giles. His epithet was cut short as the Watcher shoved a stake through his chest from behind.

The simple gesture automatically snapped Mike back into reality. But as he spun to face his opponent again, he was saved the trouble as Faith punched and staked the vampire. "Thanks," he managed, catching himself on the railing.

"No prob," she answered before turning to deck another attacker.

Down by the office, Buffy was doing a similar favor for Giles, while Angel gave Willow time to hide the laptop. Faith vaulted over the railing, landing almost on top of a vampire. She backhanded the startled vampire in the face, then grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and slammed his head into the table before staking him. The remaining vampires took one look at the piles of dust and took off running. It was all over in a few minutes.

Stumbling to his feet, Giles literally dusted himself off. "Is everyone all right?"

"We're fine," Oz answered, sinking into a chair beside Willow.

"Oh yeah," Xander groaned, sitting up. "It's not like I need my spleen for anything, right?" Cordelia sighed and knelt down beside him.

Still leaning against the railing, Mike swallowed, trying to get his bearings. "Buffy?"

The Slayer blinked. "What?"

"Now I'm buying it."