"Don't tell me the Thomas Guide is in the trunk with all of those pus-covered weapons, man."

Angel almost didn't react, his small grimace disguised by making the same left turn he'd made about a half-hour ago when Gunn had first suspected that he'd gotten them lost somewhere in the ritzy part of Pasadena.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything, but I know we've passed that big Greek-looking house before. Three times."

Angel's expression didn't change. "I know."

"Okay."

Angel sighed. "I hate this part of town. None of the streets go straight through and every time I have to come here I think, this time will be different. I know my way in and out. But then it isn't."

"I think pretty much everybody feels that way about this neighborhood. Just face it. I don't even know if we're in Pasadena or San Marino any more. Plus, you didn't get lost in the other neighborhood in Sierra Madre, so you're not doing too bad. Where's the Thomas Guide?"

"I'm sure I can get us home, okay?"

Wesley, looking much the worse for wear with a damp blanket over his shoulders in the back seat, chimed in, "It's probably in the trunk. We needed it with the weapons to get to the second house in time."

"Oh, man. That's just nasty."

"Yes, but necessary." Wesley reached forward to tap Angel on the shoulder. "Would you mind?"

Angel glanced to the rear-view mirror. "All right, all right. I'll get it."

Gunn wrinkled his nose. "No contest there."

Angel found a likely spot on the curb beneath a tastefully-stylized streetlamp. "See the lamp? I think we're in San Marino." He stopped the car and got out, not bothering to straighten his mussed coat as he did so.

Meanwhile Wesley was checking the floor on the other side of back seat. Tucked into their backup duffel of weapons, he spotted the glossy clean cover of a Thomas Guide mapbook. "Aha. Here we are." He handed it out over the rolled-down window to Angel.

Angel took the Guide, then realized that it was still in its protective shrink-wrap. He noticed that it was for LA and Ventura Counties before finding the smug note, written on an efficient little post-it stuck to the lower corner:

'Thought this might come in handy. You owe me a good breakfast, mister! :)'

He shook his head, muttering a little under his breath, "Thanks, Cordelia."

Wesley smirked, then settled back under the damp blanket without a word, pleased with his team.

As Angel got back in and slammed the car door, the SUV he'd parked behind began flashing its lights and honking.

Wesley put his hands to ears still ringing from their battle earlier. "Oh, damn…"

"No one wants your stupid BMW sport ute…"

Angel said nothing, but got the car moving again, leaving the SUV's alarm clamoring alone behind them. He tossed the Thomas Guide to Gunn. "Here. Just figure out how to get us to Huntington Drive, all right?"

Gunn grinned. "Yeah, sure. Just gimme a couple cross-streets to figure out where the hell we are now, okay?"

Wesley uncovered his ears, and wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders again. "I believe we have one last stop before the hotel," he reminded Angel.

Angel nodded. "Right."

---

Cordelia was snoozing on the couch in the lobby when they got back, the handle of a midsized battle axe clutched in one fist and a damp washcloth making a slight spot on the upholstery beside her. She startled when the door closed behind them, moving from a fairly demure sprawl to a defensive stance rather faster than Gunn would have expected her to before realizing it was them returning, and relaxing somewhat.

Gunn and Wesley spoke at once, interrupting each other. "Are you okay?" "Did you have another vision?"

She propped the axe against the couch with a sigh, picking up the damp washcloth instead. "Not unless the vision was this skeezy homeless guy who tried to get in and wanted to get to know me a little better. Phht! I scared him off. How 'bout you?" She paused, looking closely at the three of them, and sniffed. "Eeeew. You kind of… stink."

Wesley rolled his eyes a little. "Yes. You were right about the pus," he grimaced, pulling at his soiled clothing. "Fortunately we were able to reach both houses before anyone was turned inside-out."

"What about the goats?"

Angel smiled. "We even saved the goats."

"Good. They were kind of cute, in a pigmy sort of way, you know, before they got turned inside out and everything."

Gunn laughed. "Riiight."

Despite his exhaustion, Wesley could never resist minutiae. "Their pigmy aspect was part of the problem, actually, at both houses."

Angel nodded again, shrugging out of his coat. "These damned prep school overachievers couldn't even find a proper goat for their sacrifices. Leave it to kids around here to not even get the right kind of goat, huh? Kind of reminds me of a bunch of students I ran into once at Oxford. Upper class snots didn't even know which end of the goat to…" He paused, realizing that he was, as Cordelia was fairly likely to tell him, oversharing. He glanced at Wesley, wondering if he might have taken offense, but Wesley was ostensibly too busy shrugging off the damp blanket and the remains of his coat, which was shredded and covered in at least three colors of goo. Neither Gunn nor Cordelia was looking at him, either, and he thought he might have seen Cordelia rolling her eyes. "Never mind."

Cordelia cocked her head to one side slightly. "So, did you figure out why the demon was trashing two houses at once?"

Gunn shook his head. "Yeah. They were trying to get Urgadvawhazzit to…"

Wesley interrupted to correct Gunn's pronounciation of the demon's species for what had to be the twelfth time that night. "Urgavashdanandt."

"Whatever."

"It's Urgavashdanandt, Gunn."

"It's dead, Wesley." He smiled.

Wes shook his head with an answering smile, then continued for Cordelia's benefit. "They were trying to get higher SAT scores for their academic decathlon teams, and one young genius thought the other didn't know how to do the ritual properly, so they both ended up trying it simultaneously."

Gunn added, "With the wrong kind of pigmy goats. Not pretty."

Angel let out a short chuckle. "Yeah, he was pretty pissed off, wasn't he?"

Gunn joined him. "Yeah. Can't really say that I blame him, even though… eurgh. Pus." He turned to Wesley. "That reminds me… are we just gonna toss those weapons, or what? And don't say 'or what', okay?"

Angel hedged. "Um, I think they just…"

Wesley sighed. "They'll be perfectly serviceable. They just need some cleaning."

"Cleaning. Riiiight. Did you get a good look at them in the light? Nasty! They probably need cleaning with holy water or something, don't they?"

Cordelia pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingertips. "That would mean Angel's off weapons cleanup duty tonight, huh?"

Angel reached into one of the bags of purchases they'd made at the all-night drugstore on their way back to the hotel. "I'm on breakfast duty, thanks to your post-it note." He looked between them, uncertain, until Wesley nodded.

Wesley spoke up. "Right. And no, it's not holy water, it's bleach. But we can handle it anyway." He looked pointedly at Gunn.

Gunn nodded, then looked at Cordelia, obviously still dealing with the aftermath of her doubled-vision headache, then turned back to Wesley. "I'll scrub if you dry and she puts away, deal?"

Wesley nodded again.

Angel pulled a few boxes partway from the one of the drugstore bags. "I got you rubber gloves, but I didn't know which color you wanted this time…"

Cordelia rubbed her forehead. "Yeah, thanks. And I'll take the turquoise." She grabbed the bag from him. Shaking her head, she mumbled, "…didn't know which color I wanted… I hope you bought eggs. You're out, and if I'm on weapons cleanup duty, I really deserve eggs…"

Cordelia followed Gunn and Wesley as they each hefted one of the weapons duffels. Angel took the bags with their remaining purchases into the kitchen and headed for a quick shower, so it'd be clear for the others to use after they finished with the weapons. He also wanted to get a start on making breakfast before Cordelia wandered into the kitchen, since he knew the guys would let her shower first after just being near the battle's smelly aftermath.

---

"I call yellow."

"You had yellow last time!" Wesley had already sat his duffel down and was trying for the drugstore bag Cordelia still carried.

Gunn batted his hand away. "I did not. You had yellow last time."

"I don't think so."

Cordelia clutched the bag tighter, pulling a box of gloves out for herself. "What's wrong with turquoise?"

"Nothing! It's just… "

"Yeah."

"Oh, you're both hopeless. Here, you don't like turquoise?" Cordelia pulled another box of gloves out and tossed it to Gunn, who took one quick look and then bounced it to Wesley.

"Oh, no. I don't think so. Nope!"

Trying for his sternest expression, Wesley said firmly, "No." The box bounced back to Gunn.

"Oh, hell no." Gunn bounced it back.

Wesley handed the box back to Cordelia. "What else is left? Turquoise would be fine."

In the end Cordelia wore her favored turquoise, while Gunn and Wesley each wore one yellow, one turquoise. They never did agree on who'd had yellow the night before.

They made short work of their cleaning job as the smell of bleach began to overpower the stench of demon, and left the unopened box of pink gloves for Angel.

---

Gently easing the latest pair of golden waffles from the iron, Angel tried not to look smug as Gunn joined Wesley and Cordelia at the kitchen table. "And you said you didn't think I could handle the technology."

Gunn grinned. "Hey, you're the one who grew up without electricity. You're not all the way into the modern age yet."

Wesley added, "But despite that, he managed, and you owe me that drink."

Gunn grinned. "Okay, okay, I stand corrected."

Cordelia glanced from one to the other, and then let out a happy giggle. "You must have really given the drugstore people a laugh. Three guys buying a wafflemaker together at three in the morning?"

Wesley, his dignity much improved since getting cleaned up, corrected her. "Two," Wesley said. The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried not to smile. "I decided it was best to keep our numbers small to minimize suspicion."

"You were covered in demon pus," Gunn said, pointing his butterknife at him. "You would've scared away the cashier."

Wesley knocked it aside with his own, then reached for the butter. "Whereas the bloodthirsty vampire and the tall, menacing demon hunter would have been invited for tea?"

"And you sent us in to avoid suspicion?"

Cordelia laughed again.

Wesley smiled. "We did have pancakes and eggs last night, and omelets the night before that, so some variety was in order."

Gunn joined in Cordelia's laughter. "And we weren't about to pick you up and take you out to Denny's after the pus and the inside-out goats tonight! Well, not unless the waffles didn't turn out."

Angel used his best 'poor, put-upon me' expression. "Hey! Expert waffle-maker here, slaving away!" He carefully poured another pair of batter blobs onto the iron, and closed it.

Cordelia reached across the corner of the table to pat his arm, her smile warm though laughter still glinted in her eyes. "Of course you are."

One side of Angel's mouth lifted in a half-smile. "Of course. Thank you. Right! Want another waffle? I… um… well, the recipe made a lot."

Gunn held out his plate with a smile. "Pile 'em on."

Cordelia held hers out as well. "Well, since you got the good syrup, I think I'll manage seconds."

Wesley broke into another grin as he held out his plate, too. "Agreed."

Angel smiled, finally more relaxed than he'd been all night. "Of course." He served all three of them from the second batch of waffles, very glad that none of them had checked the kitchen trash to spot the pitiful remains of his first attempts.

Gunn passed the syrup, and Wesley passed the strawberry preserves, before Cordelia could ask for either of them.