Disclaimer: The world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel belongs to Joss Whedon, Bones belongs to Hart Hanson. I am merely using these amazing characters to satisfy my beast of a muse!

A/N: Spoilers for all of BtVS and Angel. Takes place during the final episode of Bones S4 "The End in the Beginning" Spoilers for previous seasons, does not take into account season 5 or above.

Big shout out to Readingmama for betaing this for me! Read, review, but most of all enjoy!


The Beginning of the End

Chapter 1

The Hellmouth

Cleveland, Ohio, May 14th 2009

Buffy Summers, a Vampire Slayer walked down the street towards the new Council building, the small heels of her black boots clicking softly as she walked. She was wearing a pair of figure hugging dark-blue jeans, a white knit top and a dark brown trench coat to protect her against the fresh spring breeze. She sighed loudly as she walked up the stone steps, pushed at the artistically carved double wooden doors, and heading into the lobby of the building that was now the headquarters for the new Slayer and Watchers Council operations around the world.

Sitting at the reception desk on the left hand side of the large room sat a perky, perfectly presented blonde. Her bright blue eyes rimmed with black eyeliner and mascara, her lips a bright pink to match her skin tight, flower printed dress and long manicured nails. Buffy glanced over towards the young, self-absorbed vampire Harmony looked up, gave a brilliant beaming smile and stood up, hurrying over to Buffy, her high, hot-pink heels clicking against the granite tiles.

"Hey Boss!" she gushed. "You have a few messages." She quickly handed Buffy a stack of pastel-pink post-it notes. "Oh and Giles wants you in the conference room in 10 minutes."

Buffy sighed, again mystified that the Watchers Council, an organisation dedicated to eliminating the forces of evil had hired a vampire as its receptionist. Admittedly, it was hard to find good help nowadays. Harmony worked hard, and there was a strict no-blood policy on all Council grounds, still…it was Harmony.

Buffy rolled her eyes, taking the notes and nodding reluctantly. "Ok, thanks Harmony." She managed a weak smile. "Why don't you head home for the day?"

Harmony beamed. "Ok, thanks Buffy!" she said brightly, quickly making her way back to the desk, turning off the computer and grabbing her bag, which was also pink, before heading towards the back hallway and the underground sewer access. Buffy shook her head in disbelief, she was just waiting for the day when a fluffy white Pomeranian would poke its head out of Harmony's bag and yip at her.

As the click-click of Harmony's heels faded into the background, Buffy stuffed the bundle of post-it notes into her pocket and headed up the stairs.

A few minutes later she sat in the conference room on the top floor. Three sides of the immense room were covered in neo-tempered glass, the same glass that Angel had in his Wolfram and Hart office. The midday sun was coming in through the panels and highlighting Buffy's hair and bouncing of the ancient hardwood table. She tried to appear interested, really she did, but the politics she now found herself dealing with everyday put her to sleep. Give her a trusty stake and a battleaxe any day! She glanced across the table, caught Faith's eye and smirked, knowing the other Slayer was thinking the exact same thing she was.

Faith grinned and shifted in her seat, throwing her arms over her head and stretching. Giles stood in front of a whiteboard, a pen in his hand as he outlined the things going on in the Council.

The conference room was full, all the gang was there. Giles, Willow, Xander, Spike and Faith, as well as a few of the more experienced Watchers, a few of the older Slayers and Lorne, a green-skinned empathy demon. At the end of the table a laptop was open, facing Giles, on the screen the faces of Dawn and her husband, Connor Reilly beamed at them. They couldn't make the meeting, but had still wanted to sit in on the discussion.

Nerds, Buffy thought with a hint of sisterly pride.

Giles' voice started to drown out as Buffy's thoughts turned inward. The past six years had been one hell of a ride, first the destruction of the Hellmouth, then the establishment of the new council. Giles had suggested they move to Cleveland, the location of the only other Hellmouth in the continental US. Buffy had agreed; California held too many memories, some good, some bad. She needed something new, but she did miss the weather.

Back then, in those early days, she had needed to be strong for Dawn, for the Slayers, and for everyone who needed her. She enrolled Dawn in one of the best schools in the city, watching her graduate with distinction and go on to become one of the better field Watchers in the new Council. Giles was so proud. At the moment she was in Northern Russia with her husband and her Slayer. Last reports had them rounding up a pack of Thesulac demons.

After the Hellmouth had collapsed, Xander had travelled the world, and helped to find all the new Slayers; he had wanted time and space to grieve for Anya. He had returned almost four years ago and had been here ever since. He owned a construction company which he worked during the day. He said it was a good way for him to help the ordinary world as well. After Anya's death there hadn't really been anyone else, he had had a few girlfriends here and there but nothing too serious, and they all ended quickly.

Willow was single too. She and Kennedy had lasted for a few years, but gradually drifted apart as Willow's magic became stronger and Kennedy found herself travelling all over the world. Kennedy was in South America at the moment, Willow was here in Cleveland. She often taught the Slayers the very basics of magic, how to recognise certain herbs and spells, and a few common protection spells that would help them fight.

Faith had lost Robin over five years ago, they had been going steady and it was a shock to see him go. He was in a car accident; a speeding car had clipped him on the highway and pushed him directly into the past of a truck coming the other way. He had died instantly.

Perhaps the only good thing to come out of the entire ordeal was Faith finding out she was pregnant only a few weeks after his death. She now had a healthy little boy. She called him Robbie after his father and doted on him like her own mother should have doted on her. He was a little terror.

Giles had spent the past six years in Cleveland and was now head of the Watchers Council, coordinating the training and education of the Slayers. He still helped with field work.

Not all of the Slayers had Watchers. Most of the Slayers worked in squads, in groups of between 5 and 10 girls who were in charge of preventing the demons and vampires from taking over the city. In the quieter areas of the world there was normally only one Slayer. Mostly those who preferred to work by themselves, they were often the ones assigned with Watchers.

In the six years since Willow's spell made all the potentials, Slayers, they had found in excess of over two thousand Slayers. With almost one hundred squads, Slayer's and Watchers were now stationed all over the world.

The younger Slayers, those who had not reached the age of sixteen, were kept out of the field if it could be helped. They attended the boarding school across the road and trained in everything from ancient history to battle tactics and were tutored by the Watchers either too old or too inexperienced to train a field Slayer.

Buffy was no longer at the front of all the battles, she was still active in the field, but with the amount of Slayers around the world it meant she no longer had to fight alone, or risk her friends hurting. She had been enthusiastic about starting the new Council.

It all changed a year after they had destroyed the Sunnydale Hellmouth, reports had come in from the Slayers stationed in San Francisco. Los Angeles was in flames, buildings were down and demon's roamed the streets. News reports from all over the world reported chaos and death.

Buffy had absolutely no word from Angel. She sat by the phone for days, hoping he would call, hoping he would tell her he was okay.

About a week after the initial reports, there was a soft knock at the front door of the apartment she shared with Dawn. It was the middle of the night, and they weren't expecting anyone. It was a shock when Buffy opened the door, revealing Spike and a tall, sandy haired boy standing on the threshold; they were covered in blood. The look on Spike face had said it all.

Buffy had collapsed, crying uncontrollably. Dawn had rushed towards her, offering comfort when she didn't know what else to do. She had let them in as she had grabbed Buffy around the shoulders and pulled her up onto the couch. Spike had hesitated for a second, looking down at the broken Slayer and then reached out and grabbed the phone. He had quickly found Giles' and Willow's numbers, calling them and telling them to come quick.

Giles had arrived first, living only a couple of blocks away. He had immediately taken charge, comforting Buffy and telling Dawn to put the kettle on. Soon Buffy was huddled in a blanket; her feet tucked under her, a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

Willow had rushed in a few seconds later. She had looked straight at Buffy, seen the tears streaking down her cheeks and immediately knew that something was wrong. She sat down beside her, wrapped her arms around the Slayer's shaking shoulders and held her tight. Buffy had taken a deep breath, turned her tear-filled hazel eyes to Spike and asked him what had happened.

The blonde vampire had looked away, a brief flash of pain crossing his features as he remembered that final battle. Finally he had turned back, looking deep into her eyes as he moved forward and sat down on the floor in front of her. Then he had told her everything that had happened that in that past year, from his first appearance as a ghost, becoming corporeal, and finally, how he started fighting by Angel's side. He told her of the constant battle of wills between him and the older vampire and about the struggle to keep the evil at bay. He told her of Gunn's legal upgrade, Cordelia's last goodbye and Fred's ultimate sacrifice. He told her of Illyria, and how the God King ultimately became one of their strongest allies. He told them about Wesley and his decline after the death of the woman he loved.

He had paused then, taking a deep breath before telling the Slayer and the others everything that had happened in those last hours. About Angel's suicidal, but brilliant plan to eliminated the senior members of the Circle of the Black Thorn. How Wesley had died and how Lorne had killed Lindsay, before packing his bags and walking away from the battle, unwilling to become more involved. He told her of how the four of them; Angel, Illyria, Gunn and himself had stood in the rain in that dirty alley and took up arms against the demon horde coming towards them.

Buffy had started crying again, tears flowing silently down her cheeks as he told her how Gunn had quickly fallen, his chest ripped out, his guts spilling to the floor. Spike's voice grew rough as he explained how Angel had taken him aside then and told him that if he fell he was to get Connor out of the city.

Spike had ducked his head then, shaking his head as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He sniffed. "Stupid bastard," he had muttered. "I couldn't do anything!"

Buffy shook her head desperately. "No," she whispered frantically, "No."

Spike had sighed, and told her what she didn't want to hear. That Angel had fallen.

"It happened so fast, the dragon was on him, without any of us noticing." Spike said, "It had swooped down out of the sky, fire spewing from its mouth. You know how fast Angel is, but even he couldn't avoid it."

Spike shook his head sadly. "I've never heard him scream like that, never. He was on fire. He wasn't done though, bloody crazy bastard! He raised his sword with the last of his strength, javelin style. He skewered that damn dragon in the eye and killed it good and proper."

"And then he died, just crumpled to dust, right in front of me. I couldn't do anything." He sniffed and wiped at his eyes quickly.

"I couldn't move. Turns out I didn't need to anymore. The demons, they stopped fighting. As soon as Angel was dead they just stopped. Then they started cheering!" he growled softly.

"Illyria, the crazy bird just stood their staring, no emotion on her face at all. Me? Bloody hell I didn't know what to do did I? Angel and I had known each other for a hundred years; I had hated the bastard for almost as long too. But finally, it was starting to look like we could be buddies again."

Buffy's eyes widened in shock and Spike nodded. "Yeah, was finally looking like we could be in the same room without killing each other. I never thought there would be a day when he wasn't there, ya know." He looked down sadly. "I don't know who I'm gonna annoy now."

Buffy managed a small smile at the last admission, wiped her eyes on her hand. She turned to the young man sitting beside Spike, who had been silent the entire time. "Who are you?" she'd asked quietly. There was something about the young man that had called to her.

The teenager had shifted nervously, his blue eyes shifting towards Spike and then back towards the Slayer. He swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. "I'm Connor," he'd said holding out his hand. "Connor Reilly."

Her eyes widened and she glanced at Spike. "The Connor, Angel asked you to get out of Los Angeles at all costs?" she'd asked. At Spikes small nod she turned to Connor, her eyes narrowing.

"What makes you so important that he would sacrifice his life for yours?" she'd asked him bluntly, her eyes flashing.

"Because I'm his son," Connor said, catching Buffy's gaze. He looked into her hazel eyes and struggled to tell her, he didn't want to cause her more pain, but this was necessary.

Buffy's eyes widened. "What?" She gasped. "But…It's impossible, Angel's a…." she'd choked as she'd started crying again and sucked in a breath "…was, a vampire. Vampires can't have children."

Connor shrugged. "There was a prophesy, it was a thing." He looked at Spike. "I know he was pretty shocked when mom turned up," he muttered.

Buffy sucked in a deep breath. "Who is your mom?" she asked softly, biting her lip, not exactly sure she even wanted to know. Just the thought of Angel having a child with anyone other then herself sent chills down her spine. The fact that he had an eighteen year old son that he had never told her about was a kick in the guts, one that made her want to vomit.

"Darla," he answered.

Spike saw the look of horror and pain that flashed across Buffy's face and wanted to clarify. "It's true, love, Dru told me she was back. Angel was going through a bad patch, she was there and I guess well… I'm sure you can work out what happened." He shrugged apologetically. "Fred told me Angel was pretty shocked when Darla turned up months later looking like she was ready to pop. None of them knew what was going on."

"Or if I was human," added Connor.

The Scoobies all looked at him. "Are you?" asked Buffy softly.

Connor nodded. "As far as we can tell, I am. I just have a few…extras." He grinned "Vampire strength and speed, enhanced hearing, smell and eyesight. Win, win actually."

Shock didn't even begin to describe the looks on everyone's faces as Willow surveyed the group. "There is something I don't get, you're what, eighteen?" she asked, unconsciously voicing Buffy's earlier thoughts. "I find it hard to believe that Angel failed to mention he had a son after all he and Buffy had…"

The stricken look on Buffy's face told everyone that she was thinking the same thing herself. She turned and looked at Connor, waiting for him to explain, it was a big surprise when he started laughing softly.

The teenager shook his head. "I was only born three years ago," he said.

Everyone blinked. "Come again?" squeaked Dawn as Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them vigorously before placing them back on the bridge of his nose.

"I was raised in a hell dimension by a vampire hunter called Holtz," he explained, no longer thinking of the Englishman as his father. "I was taken from Angel when I was only a few weeks old, Holtz raised me and I spent sixteen years in Quor-thor, the catch, only about two months had passed here," he told them matter-of-factly.

Buffy's eyes widened. "Oh god…"

Connor shrugged. "I was a mess, I hated Angel, I hated Los Angeles….I did a lot of bad things, before Dad finally put a stop to it."

"What did he do?" asked Buffy softly. She had never realised just how much Angel had gone through since he had left Sunnydale.

"He altered everyone's memories, making a deal with Wolfram and Hart in the process. He would take over their LA office and I would get all these brand-spanking new memories, a new life, a new family. Without any knowledge of Angel, Holtz or my time in Quor-thor." He paused. "The only one that would remember would be Angel." He'd shaken his head. "He gave me up so I could have a normal life, he got a multi-dimensional company, and that shiny necklace thing in the deal as well…"

Buffy's eyes widened. "The necklace you wore when we destroyed the Hellmouth?" she'd asked Spike.

The blonde vampire nodded "Yep, deal with a devil if you ask me…"

"So why are you here?" asked Buffy, turning her head and looking at Connor again

Connor rolled his eyes. "Because nothing ever turns out how you want it to! Demons came after me, and my new parents had heard of Wolfram and Hart. I met Angel, I had no idea what was going on then. Wesley knew something was up, he was always good at figuring out stuff like that, anyway he did something, smashed a globe… suddenly I could remember everything. I had my real memories of Quor-thor and Angel and the team, and then I had the fabricated memories of the Reilly's." He paused and looked down. "It took me a while to work out what was real," he whispered.

"So have I met you before?" asked Willow.

Connor nodded. "Yeah, last year when you had to come to Los Angeles to do a spell. You don't remember because only Wes, Illyria and I remember. You weren't there when Wes smashed that magical globe. My parents, the Reilly's, they don't know either," he'd explained.

Buffy looked down, she was shaking slightly. "So he's gone," she whispered. "He's really gone." She'd felt the tears again, and sniffed desperately to keep them from falling.

Spike paused, and then reached out slowly and squeezed her hand in a comforting gesture. "He really is, love," he had said around the lump in his throat.

Back in the present Buffy shook her head, coming out of her musings as Giles called her name sharply. She jerked in her seat; sitting up startled and then looked guiltily towards her former Watcher. "Sorry Giles," she muttered, "Go on…."

Giles cleared his throat loudly. "As I was saying the Cleveland Hellmouth is unusually quiet of late…"


Washington DC

FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth lay flat on his back on the hospital gurney as he stared up at the perfectly white ceiling and the bright halogen lights of the surgery room. He started counting backwards, the drugs pumping through his system quickly, making him feel sleepy. His eyelids became heavy and he blinked a few times, instinctively trying to keep himself awake. Unwilling to let himself go just yet.

In the last few seconds of conscious thought, he turned his head and looked through the glass window at the tall, strikingly beautiful anthropologist who had been his partner for the past four years. He smiled as Dr. Brennan raised her hand and waved at him. His thoughts were starting to become muddled, the edges of his vision starting to blacken uncontrollably, and he sighed in resignation. Finally his eyes closed and didn't open again. The anaesthetists checked his vitals' and quickly nodded to the doctor.

Dr Brennan was pulled away, a young nurse grabbing her arm and slowly leading her away. A curtain was closed, to screen off the surgery, as the doctor picked up a scalpel. "Ok people," he muttered, "let's get to work."


Seeley Booth dreamed. A series of vivid physic flashes, memories that were not his own were forming in his brain, memories that were both calming, and memories that were so filled with terror he felt his body shiver in fear. He could see, hear, smell and touch. It all felt so real, yet it couldn't be. Could it? None of these things were familiar to him; the people he saw were all strangers.

There was a blonde girl, small and strong and full of fire, her spirit untamed. She had a sword in her hand and was crying as she rammed the steel through his chest.

He was in the middle of an ice skating rink, and the same blonde girl who had rammed a sword through his chest was standing before him and her lips were pressed against his. Even in his unconscious state he could tell the kiss was passionate, that it lit a fire within him.

Another memory, an older one this time showed a dark haired girl huddled in a church, her dress was better described as rags and her cheeks were tear stained as she looked up at him and prayed.

The same girl, her eyes wide and crazy was hanging on the arms of a young man with curly mousy-brown hair. Behind them the sky was on fire and the man smirked as he licked blood from his lips.

He saw a young black man and a skinny waif of a girl smiling happily as they stood in the sunshine, a tall, bespeckled man sat at a desk engrossed in a book. A baby cried in a bassinet, and a pregnant woman huddled in the rain, her small hands clutching her belly desperately.

The images became strange and he saw a blue-haired dominatrix in red-leather and a green-skinned man with red horns in a bright blue suit. An angry teenager with a bomb shouted at him. A curvy young woman, her dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders laughed with a smiling Irishman.

The places were surprising and otherworldly, old buildings made of stone, a run-down hotel, and a tall state-of-the art skyscraper. He saw the inside of a small dark apartment, and the beautiful interior of a London townhouse.

He rocked slowly as he huddled in the wooden hull of a large ship. He pulled a thread-bare coat around his shoulders as he ducked his head and walked down a dirty New York street. He stood in the smoke surrounded by fire trucks, and tried to appear casual as he belted out the words to 'Mandy' under a bright spotlight.

All these scenes were merely a flash in his mind, one minute they were there the next they had slipped from his grasp.

The last scene he saw was of an alley, rain was bucketing down. The black man and the blue haired woman were standing behind him. Next to him stood a man with white-blonde bleached hair.

All four of them stood tall, despite the ache in their bodies. Booth knew he was hurt the sword in his hand was hanging limp. He took a deep breath, and spoke, "Let's get to work."

And his mind went blank.


Washington DC, May 15th 2009

Temperance 'Bones' Brennan sat in the uncomfortable plastic hospital chair. A laptop was perched on her knee as she sat beside the hospital bed where Booth slept peacefully. He was perfectly still, the frown lines in his forehead smoothed out in sleep. His chest rose and fell rhythmically as he breathed; the monitors beside him beeped and buzzed, numbers and lines flashing across the dark screens as they monitored his heart and breathing rate.

Brennan was worried, the surgery had been a success, but with all brain surgery there was still a great deal of risk. She was worried that Booth wouldn't wake up, so she hadn't left his side since he had come out of surgery a few hours ago, and decided to pass the time by writing another chapter of her new book.

On the bed Booth stirred, muttering in his sleep. Bones couldn't understand what he was saying, but he thrashed in the bed and the monitors beeped their process. A nurse hurried into the room and checked his vitals, opened his eyes and flashed a small torch across his pupils. She smiled softly.

"He's waking up," she announced. "I'll get the doctors; we have to take the tube out of his mouth."

Brennan nodded, closed her laptop and placed it on the chair beside her. She wrung her hands nervously, biting her lip and waiting impatiently as the doctor entered; in that leisurely, unhurried pace all doctors seem to have. He checked Booth's monitors again and nodded to the nurse who unclipped a few tubes and slowly pulled the tube from Booth's mouth and placed it on a tray beside the bed.

With a small smile at Brennan, the nurse left the room. The doctor checked Booth's pulse, wrote a few things on the clipboard and then swept from the room without even acknowledging the nervous anthropologist.

Slowly, Brennan turned towards Booth, scooted forward in her chair and laid a hand on the side of the bed, inches from his hand. With a swift glance at his face she shifted her hand and placed it on top of his. His hand jerked and she pulled hers away instantly as he shifted and muttered something unintelligible. His eyelids fluttered and he groaned as he opened his eyes.

Brennan sucked in a deep breath. "Booth," she gasped.

Booth sucked in a deep breath and glanced towards her. He blinked and frowned. "Who are you?" he asked.

Bones' mouth popped open as she started at her partner in shock; this was the last thing she was expecting.

Everything happened quickly after that, Brennan called the doctor, who asked Booth a series of questions. "It doesn't make any sense." He said to the doctor as he explained that he remembered all different things about himself that contradicting each other.

Including a father who drank to much and one who was always disappointed. A impressionable younger sister verses a charming younger brother, and most importantly a shiny broadsword and long black coat compared to his sniper rifle and desert fatigues.

Brennan was worried, he never once mentioned her, and she knew Booth had never wielded a sword in his life. When the doctor left, Booth frowned, looked her in the eye, trying to remember. After a few minutes his dark brown eyes started to clear and he murmured, "Bones?" softly. The anthropologist smiled happily, feeling incredibly relieved that he finally remembered her.

"You remember now?" she asked softly.

He frowned again but nodded. "I don't know, I didn't know you at first but things are coming back to me now." He paused. "But I remember other things too,"

Brennan cocked her head curiously and blinked. "What kind of memories?" she asked.

He shifted on the bed, looked down and locked his hands together over his chest, folding them protectively over his heart. He paused. "I remember people….lots of people I have never met before, a blonde girl, and a brunette…" He frowned. "… and a teenage boy who looks at me angrily."

"Booth?" Bones said in concern.

"No, Bones… I know what you're going to say, and these aren't dreams, these aren't just some manifestations of my subconscious. I'm remembering these things for the first time," he told her desperately.

The anthropologist frowned, not convinced. "Are they old memories?" she asked softly,

Booth paused. "Only a few years, most of them anyway, others seem older." He blinked as an image flashed through his mind.

He stumbled drunkenly out of a noisy pub, his arms over the shoulders of a mate as they laughed heartily. His friend tripped and sprawled on the floor, he looked down and laughed.

"Ahh…just sleep thar then" he muttered, his accent Irish. He chuckled and raised his head, noticing a young woman standing in the mouth of an alley. She turned her head and he felt his breath hitch at her beauty, his body unconsciously responding as she smirked, tossed her head and walked away.

He found himself following the beautiful blonde woman, stumbling every now and then; he rounded a corner and found her standing in the middle of the alley, her back to him and her old-fashioned white dress hugging her womanly curves. He ran his eyes over her shapely form. "Now, what's a fine lass like ya doing in an alley with the reputation this one has?" he asked.

The woman turned his head, and he noticed her eyes were a bright cornflower blue. She smiled.

"Maybe I'm not the girl you think I am," she purred seductively. .

Booth took a deep breath and shook his head frantically, desperately trying to put the images out of his mind. "Some of them feel…different," he admitted softly. "As if it's me, but not me. I feel…. different, angry, hungry….manic." He paused, glanced at Dr. Brennan before quickly looked down in embarrassment.

Brennan paused, and watched the FBI agent in concern. She tried smiling at him encouragingly. "Booth, its ok," she said softly, patting his hand awkwardly as she attempted to reassure him.

He shook his head frantically. "No, it's not. I want to get to the bottom of this Bones. I want to know who these people are." He looked her directly in the eye. "I don't know who I am anymore, Bones," he told her softly. "But I intend to find out!"

He looked down at his arm, grabbed hold of the tube sitting on his wrist and pulled it out with a soft tug. Bones winced, gasping as Booth grunted in pain.

He threw the covers off, revealing he was only wearing a hospital gown, and swung his legs over the side, before slowly getting to his feet. Brennan's eyes widened as the loose ties of his gown exposed the strong muscles of his back and the curve of his buttocks to her startled gaze.

She looked away hastily, a blush tinging her cheeks, feeling incredibly flustered. Booth walked to the chair on the other side of the room, shifted through his bag and pulled out a pair of jeans, a shirt and some undies before turning to the waiting anthropologist. He looked her in the eye.

"I can't just sit around and do nothing," he told her. "I have to find out what's going on."

Bones nodded silently, completely agreeing with him as he turned and slipped into the little bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.