Los Angeles, Fall 2002

He was still dripping wet. Calling AI was out. If Connor answered, who knew how the the teen powderkeg might react. But he needed to call someone. Anyone. Or perhaps not just anyone. A phone card he'd stashed in the tunnels did the trick.

"Buffy? Yeah. Look, it is imperative that you speak to no one about this phone call. I just needed to hear your voice. Just tell me how things are on your end, because over here, I don't think they could get more crappy."

Buffy spoke about Xander. Angel reacted.

"He's what? Uh...wow."

Deciding that now was not the time to reveal that he had known of this particular secret for years, Angel tried to jump tracks.

"So how's Dawn taking it...she is? But when did you two..? Oh, yeah, magic. Bet you two wish your own folks were there to....he came back? Married--Anya? Guess that keeps it in the family--eesh."

Angel's eyes went wide.

"Twin sister? Hokay--now, we are talking about an actual life-stealing evil twin, right? Insane asylum, and everything. Yeah, well, tell her Hi for me--after a few weeks. Yeah, I guess not being dead in the first place beats spells and amulets and all that. Well, that is good news. Especially for Dawn, being a teen....not a teen. Half a teen. Tell me, has Giles confirmed that this is the real Joyce?"

His jaw dropped.

"Well, I guess that's one way of doing that. I'll be sure and get them some crystal, or a toaster oven...or a toaster oven powered by crystals. Yeah, he always was kind of a step- to you guys. Has Willow got her dark side under control? Yeah? Well, that would be out of control. No, Buffy. Two separate bodies for light and dark means out of control...the dark one is actually who? I'll bet Spike's laughing his ass off about all this, the jerk. Buffy, remember, chip or...no chip? Well, remember, he still doesn't have a sou....oh. Cave. Africa. Fought people. Cool. I just want you to remember, at the end of the day, Spike or William is still a va.....HE WHAAAAT!!!?"

Angel's face glazed over after Buffy's final response. He hung up the payphone, and walked the streets, only to be taunted by a familiar foe, one largely responsible for what Connor had become.

"I haven't forgotten our quarrel, Angel. As soon as you've taken your revenge on the boy--I'll be free to strike and...."

Five minutes later, as Sajahn's severed head lost final consciousness, it muttered some last words.

"Picked a bad time, did I?"