Scrambling his way out of a drugged blackness felt like it always did: a dragging sluggishness that gave way to terror as the adrenaline kicked in. Not that Willy'd been drugged all that often, mind you. Still, expecting to get killed any minute? Not something you ever forgot.

The other guy, the one who'd already been knocked out when Angel had stashed Willy here, was banging at the bathroom door. Had to be new to town if he didn't know enough to not attract attention when a demon had you in its clutches. "Hey," Willy shouted. "Stop your banging. You're giving me a headach."

"Headache? I've been trappped here, drugged against my will ..."

"Ya ain't dead yet, are ya? 'Cause that's what'll happen if you draw, you know, unwanted attention."

"Dead?" The man blinked as if he didn't get it. Yep, total newb. "Surely we can negotiate. There must be something he wants."

"You can't negotiate with vampires. They want only one thing and it ain't good for you." Well, okay, it might be possible to negotiate with Angel except he wasn't acting his usual self.

"Vampire?" He didn't sound too surprised so he must know something about the way things worked.

"Yeah, and if you don't want to be dinner, we gotta get out of here. It's dark so he might not be home." Also, if Angel'd been close enough to hear the man's shouting, he'd have barged in and done, well, something. It wouldn't have been good. "This'll be our best chance." Willy opened the window and got a good look at the parking lot from above. Second floor and hard asphalt below. Not so great for an escape. "Ya got anything heavy we can use to break down the door?" He started rifling through the cabinet under the sink.

"You can't break my door! I'll lose my security deposit."

Some guys had no sense of priority. "Which is better than having your throat ripped out." OK, a fire extinguisher, one of those little home jobs. Not all that heavy but he could make it work.

"Throat ripped out?" The man squeaked as he got out of the way.

Luckily Willy'd had experience with this kind of thing and the door was kind of shoddy. It took only a dozen hits to break the doorknob enough to get the door open. Willy pushed the idiot out first. If there was a vamire around, he'd go for the first one out the door, but the apartment was empty. As Willy darted for the exit, he could hear the man calling from his living room, "Hey, what about me?"

Willy didn't bother to respond. The guy would figure it out or he wouldn't. Outside it was as dark as a night could get. Willy didn't feel much safer. His bar had been closed for, well, he didn't know how long it'd been closed. Demons weren't all that forgiving. Half of 'em would be out for his blood by now. He couldn't even stop by the place to pick up some dosh. He had to get out of Sunnydale and fast.