"Enough of that, you 'orrible thing, you!"
This indignant scolding unexpectedly coming from behind swept away in an instant nearly all of Xander's mental daze created by Dracula in the middle of putting this young man under the vampire's thrall.
Xander was still partially stupefied so that all he could do was to stand there swaying on his feet, unable to react by either:
a) Trying to take on a master vampire in hand-to-hand combat all by himself.
Which was…not really such a good idea.
b) Or, just running like hell out of Dracula's castle.
Now, that was a much better option. Of course, this required him to be able to find the castle's front door and wasn't caught right at the start of Xander's best panicky sprint by his now least favorite vamp handily beating out just this once that other blood-sucking demon known to him as Angel O'Broodily the Brooding Brooder, King of Broodland.
There was also the minor consideration of exactly who'd done that snappish admonishment a moment ago, somewhere right behind Xander which was making Drac stare in increasing confusion over the human's shoulder at the other person who had to be back there. That was pretty weird, come to think of it. In Xander's varied experience over the last couple of years in Sunnydale with all those fanged monsters, vamps mostly didn't do the uncertainty thing.
No, they were usually contemptuous or dismissive or just plain sure they could deal with however some pathetic mortal tried to fight against them. So…what was making Drac staying there and not taking care of business as usual; i.e., painting the castle walls red with someone's blood?
Not all that willing to turn around and see who'd just shown up, Xander still couldn't help himself. He warily twisted his neck to peek over his shoulder, ready at any moment to dodge or jump aside or do something else almost certainly hopeless only to gape at what he now saw there.
It was…a little old lady.
A complete stranger, to boot. Who then proceeded to ask Xander in a kind of strange accent, "You all right, love?"
Blinking at what he'd just heard, Xander unconsciously shifted to face that lady. He next looked back at Drac seeming to be just as startled at that question, only to see that vamp becoming definitely pissed. Oh, this wasn't good, nope. In fact, Xander's already precarious situation had just taken a turn for the worse, what with him not the only one in danger now. Even if it was almost impossible, he had to save both himself and that little old lady now putting her fists on her hips and sending a disapproving glare through a multitude of facial wrinkles at a vampire about to lose his temper any second-
"How dare you intrude in my castle, crone! Begone, lest you incur my wrath and force me to sully my hands with what few drops of blood remain in your wizened frame!"
Ooooo, 'crone', 'incur', 'sully', and even 'wizened'. Drac was going right into the melodramatic villain tantrum shtick much faster than Xander had heard one of the Scooby Gang's Big Bads do this before. Great, what's next?
Oh, right. At this part of the story, it was the little old lady's turn to do the proper response to this which was, um, ah… Nothing all that effective came to mind for Xander.
The stranger, though, had her own presumably clever plan, which included pulling out from her purse a set of…keys? And then she waved these right into Drac's face.
Okay, Xander had just landed in the country known as "What The Hell's Going On?" Especially since Drac actually checked himself, staring doubtfully at the little old lady herself looking both smug and confident.
Xander wished he was, too. He couldn't help contributing for the first time in their increasingly zany encounter, "Hey, Transylvania Twist, was that supposed to do something? I thought crosses worked on your sort, not keys!"
That caused Dracula to shoot a haughty look at where Xander was standing, snarling at this foolish boy, "She just revealed herself to be a honored member of the charlady society!"
What? Xander glanced over at the aged woman in her old-fashioned dress, gloves, and hat, who nodded enthusiastically, and then shook her keys again at Dracula for good measure.
Turning back to the vampire, Xander risked, "She doesn't look the least bit scorched around the edges, I gotta say."
Right then and there, Dracula decided against turning that idiot into his latest thrall. It was acceptable for any vampire's minions to be somewhat lacking in intelligence, since it prevented them from rebelling or even arguing against orders such as "Go tell the mob storming the castle gates to wipe their feet first before entering". There still had to be standards, though, and this Slayer's friend needed to be told the facts of life.
Unlife, that is.
In his iciest arrogant tone, Dracula informed Xander Harris, "A charlady, you stupid American, is the British term for a female house cleaner, although she might also clean an office building. In any case, this cleaning woman's usual custom of telling her employers she's no longer working for them is done by dropping the house keys through the door mail slot."
Xander thought that over for a while. He finally had to ask, "And that's bad news for you because…?"
Sending towards the boy a very exasperated expression, Dracula next waved a hand around at the weathered but yet tidy castle area they were occupying. "Do you actually think I go around this place with a vacuum and a dust rag every week? No, I have an arrangement with a London employment agency familiar with the supernatural world who send over a char whenever she's required. As part of our contract, this cleaner is not to be harmed for any reason, and in turn, I don't wake up one sunny morning with the room curtains sent out for repairing the moth holes, the windows are freshly polished, and my coffin lid is wide open."
Dracula next glowered at the little old lady before speaking directly at her. "I still don't see what this has to do with you. My regular is Mrs. Tidwell, not someone I've never met before!"
"What, you thought Beatrice wouldn't keep from gossiping about doing a real magic castle owned by some overseas posh nob with pointy teeth?" chuckled the little old lady. "Not blooming likely, ducks. It got passed around quicker than a wink with me and the rest of her friends. Beatrice also mentioned the other part of the contract she signed, 'ow us chars and our families by any name or connection are completely off limits for your lot."
Now it was Dracula's turn to be perplexed. He frowned in total bafflement, until his handsome face suddenly changed into actual chagrin at realizing something. Bringing up both manicured hands, the vampire next waved these in a series of complex mystical gestures.
A shimmer of white light soon burst into existence around the bodies of Xander and also the little old lady, connected by a bar of this same illumination running from one to the other at chest level. This magical glow abruptly vanished when Dracula groaned with genuine frustration and dropped his hands back to his sides, grasping with his fingers the edges of the opera cape he was wearing.
Drawing himself up with morose hauteur, Dracula next bestowed a half-admiring nod towards the little old lady. "Well played, madam. I shall take my departure and never visit the Boca del Infierno again, as long as your relative lives here."
With quick movements of his hands, Dracula wrapped himself in his cape and slowly faded from existence, taking the entire enchanted Balkans castle along with this vampire. Xander and the little old lady found themselves in one of the clearings of the state park just outside the Sunnydale town limits, with the full moon shining down upon this pair.
Xander gawked at where the little old lady was looking quite pleased with her recent victory. One very special word couldn't help but to reverberate inside Xander's head, that recently announced by Dracula as-
"Relative?!"
The little old lady came over to stand in front of Xander, picking up his right hand with both of hers and then patting the back of this several times with her own right hand. She grinned up at him with her false teeth gleaming in the moonlight.
"Oh, that's right, lad. We never got around to introducing ourselves, didn't we? 'Ave to say, you look just like me husband's father on 'is side of the family back in Cheapside."
Xander Harris's jaw dropped. He then managed, "What- Who are you?"
The little old lady in her Cockney accent laughed long and hard before replying, "I'm your Great-Aunt Ada from England, lad, but the people I char for know me as Mrs. 'Arris."
Author's Note: I was definitely astonished to learn that apparently nobody else has ever done this crossover. At least, I can't find another one on this site. If you still don't get it, Paul Gallico was an American writer best known for his disaster novel The Poseidon Adventure and its movie adaptations (the one with the cruise liner overturned by a tidal wave and how a bunch of people trapped inside the ship try to survive). Among his many other novels and stories were several books having to do with a London charwoman and her escapades in Paris, New York, and Moscow, first printed from 1958 to 1974 in the last book. London-born-and-bred in the sound of Bow Bells, Ada 'Arris (as she pronounces her last married name) has a strong sense for injustice, can be extremely stubborn, and won't let down her friends; all traits her American descendant clearly shares…
Considering that Mrs. 'Arris would have to be at least in her nineties around the time of the BtVS tv show, it might be considered a bit odd she's still charing these days. Of course, in her own words, "What'd I be doing then, just watching the telly?" might be the simplest explanation. Or, perhaps one of her long-time clients is a certain building in London filled up with people who are busy sending a young girl called the Slayer out in the night to fight monsters and never bother to pay any attention to the old woman in the corner pushing a mop around the floor, even when in the last few years she hears many times a very familiar name.