In Daria continuity, Lawndale had a mall called Cranberry Commons. The Cranberry Mall is a real mall. It was that coincidence plus Glenn Eichler's comment that Lawndale could possibly be a suburb of Baltimore that led me to pick the location I did for Lawndale.

To be more specific: Lawndale occupies the area that in our world is taken by Westminster, MD. Which is not quite a suburb of Baltimore, but is close enough.

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon created the Buffy characters; Glenn Eichler created the Daria characters; I created the original characters and the plot.

X X X X X

"And here we are," Jane said, "The outskirts of Lawndale. To our right is the beautiful Cranberry Mall. Formerly known as Cranberry Commons and, simply, the Lawndale Mall. And that is the sum total of my knowledge of the place. I've been in the building about as many times as it has names. Of course, you're in the back of the van, so you can't see it. You're just going to have to trust me. For all you know, we could be in Oz."

"Naah," Faith said, noticing Willow wince slightly at the name. Her eyes were open, but everyone thought it was best that she stay lying down until they got to their destination. "We'd've heard the winged monkeys by now." Then she added, "And you might not want to use that as an example. Red's ex was named Oz."

Jane said, "Odd name for a girl."

"It would be, if he was," Faith said. "But no. Oz was a guy. Also in a band like your brother there."

"Was he good?" Trent asked.

Willow said, "He was amazing."

"Hmmm. Wonder if his group and the Spiral ever crossed paths."

"Probably not," Willow said. "Dingoes Ate My Baby stayed on the west coast."

"Hmmm. Darn. I always like talking to other guitarists."

Jane said, "You like talking?"

"On rare occasions."

Faith felt the van turn right. "And now we're leaving route 140 and heading back into the wilds of Lawndale suburbia," Jane said. "Please. No pictures. They disturb the natives."

Faith smiled, and kept reading Watchmen. She was finished the chapter on Rorschach and was skimming through the next one.

Despite her offbeat intro to Jane and Trent Lane, they seemed to be taking things in stride, more or less. They seemed to have more in common with the wolfboy than just him and Trent both being guitarists.

Which was good. Last thing they needed right now is a couple of people running around like lunatics.

Of course, seeing that the Knights of Byzantium, a hellgod and her minions, and they themselves were already out there running around, chances were no one would even notice another few lunatics. Still, nice to see that not everyone took a look at reality and chose to blind themselves. She could see what DM liked about the girl.

"Over to our left," Jane said, "Is Degas Street. Home of the hippest people in Lawndale. Just ask them." Then, "It's also the home of a club where my brother plays sometimes, so I have occasionally been known to go there. Estimated time to Casa Lane: Ten minutes. Please make sure your tray tables are in their upright and locked positions and that all edged weapons and practicing witches have been firmly secured. And as always, thank you for flying Lane Air."

"Yo, stewardess," Faith said. "I didn't get my peanuts."

Jane said, "Sorry, all out."

"How about blood?" Spike said.

"That, we have some of. But we're using it right now."

"Never stopped me before."

"Spike," Tara said, "Stop teasing them."

"Right," Spike said. "Not going to eat you. Couldn't if I wanted to. I am kind of hungry, though. And since I'm on this forcible temperance kick where humans are concerned, any chance there's a butcher shop hereabouts?"

"Hmmm," Jane said. "I could've sworn I saw you eating something on the plane."

Spike said, "I was. Just because my body's built to survive on blood doesn't mean I don't like the taste of other things. But they don't do these rumblings in my stomach a bit of good."

"No butcher shops," Jane said. "Sorry."

Spike swore to himself.

"We'll track something down for you, Spike," Willow said tiredly. "If for no other reason than we want you to be at full strength if Glory tracks us down."

"To our right," Jane said. "Is a small shopping center containing the best pizza place on the east coast: The Pizza King. Don't let the generic name fool you. They really are pizza royalty. Now, I heard they were creating dukes and duchesses. But that could be just a rumor."

"You're a big pizza fan?" Faith asked. Jane nodded. "So's DM. Sounds like a place you need to take her."

"Okay," Jane said. "Now I really have to paint you."

"Not gettin' the connection here, Laney."

If Faith's new nickname for Jane bugged her, she didn't show it. "It's just that you and Daria are so different, yet you're the same person. It's fascinating."

"Yeah. It's also not something anyone else needs to be knowin' about. The state of California sorta thinks I don't exist anymore, remember?" She wasn't offended by Jane thinking of her and DM as artistic subjects, any more than it bugged her that Trent Lane wanted to write music about it. Jane clearly liked DM, and she was being nice enough to Faith.

"Hmmm. Good point. Still, it's a painting, and it's by me. Much as in my wild fantasies I imagine my works shocking the world, the only showing I've been able to get in the last six months was across the country, at an art gallery now being run by someone whose only thought about art is how much money they can make off of it. Don't get me wrong. If someone offered me several thousand dollars for one of my works, I'd take it. Hell, if they wanted to give me a coupon for ten dollars off a massage, I'd take that. I'm not picky. Anyway, my point is, people, when they bother looking at paintings at all, don't look at them as absolute representations of the real world. If you don't want me to, I won't. Just give it some thought."

"I will. Assumin' we survive the next two days," Faith said. "How close are we to your house, Laney?"

"Two minutes."

Faith flipped Watchmen closed. Someday she and DM would get to finish the thing. Hell, she might even not mind talking it over with Laney and Red. "Then I gotta get goin'. Laney, Trent: Nice talkin' with you. But Trent, man: You gotta stop monopolizin' the conversation."

Trent said, "Yeah, I know. I can be verbose."

Faith smiled. "Uranium in the drinking water."

X X X X X

"Ah," Daria said. "I would guess that we're within shouting distance of the Lane residence?"

"Yes," Jane said. "Though I would prefer you not shout. We've already been fined three times for violating the noise ordinances." She glared at Trent.

"Hey, we gotta play that loud during a sound check. Otherwise we don't know how we're going to come across on stage."

"Daria," Willow said.

Daria turned. "Good. You're awake and alive. How are you feeling?"

"You actually sound like you meant that," Willow said. There was a tone in her voice Daria couldn't quite place. It didn't sound as hostile as her words were coming across, so she decided to let it go for the moment.

"I do. Just because you and I don't appear to be getting along doesn't mean I actually wish you ill."

"I know," Willow said. "I can't say you've been nothing but nice to me, but you have made an attempt to be reasonably civil, and while I've lived up to the letter of our agreement we made in Tara's room back in Sunnydale, I haven't lived up to the spirit. For this, I apologize." She sounded sincere.

"I accept," Daria said. Daria could be obstreperous when she thought it was justified, but Willow was clearly attempting to make amends, and it would have been churlish of Daria not to accept.

"Actually," Willow said. "Faith said that you and she were discussing Watchmen. I've read it. Maybe . . . we could talk about it, too."

"I would have no objection to that," Daria said. She was willing to talk about intellectual issues, but she rarely found people willing to talk about them. If Willow wanted to talk Watchmen, then they'd talk Watchmen. If nothing else, it might make things more genuinely stress-free between them.

"And here we are at the fabulous Casa Lane," Jane said. "Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle until Trent has hit the side of the house and come to a complete stop."

"Hey," Trent said. "That only happened once. And I wasn't even driving."

"So you say. Personally, I think Jesse was just taking the fall for you. I know the way you musicians operate, buddy boy." Then, to Spike. "Will you be able to make it to the house?"

"I'm damn well gonna try," Spike said. "I'd like to actually be able to stand up. Just give me a clear path to the door."

""Okay," Daria said. "Remember. Outside the confines of this van, no one knows that Faith still exists, okay? Not that I've pegged the two of you as likely to go to the media --" Daria stopped as she noticed Jane tapping her chest. "I'm sorry. Is it about to fall off?"

"No, just making sure the microphone's working." Jane said. "So, that was 'Faith still exists.' Keep going."

Trent turned off the car, and the Lane siblings, Daria, and Tara got out. Behind them, everyone was already out of their rental SUV.

Buffy came up to them. "Okay. Now, we're only going to stay here long enough to stretch our legs and find a decent hotel."

Jane said, "So nothing that charges by the hour, huh? Darn. There go the four-star establishments."

"Will," Buffy said. "Good to see you up, if not exactly about. You need a boost getting in?"

"Only one way to find out," Willow said, and sat up. Tara was over by her side, and Lynette Vaughn came over as well.

The psychiatrist said, "Careful when you get up. If you feel dizzy or lightheaded --"

"No," Willow said. "I've got a severe headache, but that's about it. Any idea what they shot me with?"

"As long as it wasn't bullets, I'm calling it an up side," Daria said.

More seriously, Dr. Vaughn said, "Well, yes, there is that. But if you develop any other symptoms, let me know immediately. Now, are you ready to try to stand up?"

Willow nodded, then winced. She edged to the back of the van until her legs were dangling off; then, with Tara on one arm and Dr. Vaughn on the other, she got out. Then she blinked several times and shaded her eyes. "It's a bit bright, too," she said. "But I don't feel like I'm about to fall down."

Dr. Vaughn backed off, and said, "Are we going inside?"

"Yeah," Buffy said. "That is, if it's okay with the Lane siblings."

"Naah," Jane said. "Stay in the driveway. You're a nice, visible target that way."

"Dumb question?"

"Not really. But then, I'm grading on a curve, and basing it on the people I knew in high school. I think maybe three or four people in my class actually had a brain in their head. Once you've heard someone ask why they got knocked down a grade for misspelling their own name for the fifth time, it's kind of hard to judge ordinary dumb questions."

Bemused, Buffy simply turned to everyone and said, "Take a breather, but remember, we're not staying here. Spike --"

"I've already settled things with Daria and the Lanes," Spike said. "I've been cooped up in the back of this bloody van for long enough. Clear a path and let me run."

"Jane," Buffy said. "If you would --"

Jane nodded and went over to open her front door. As Spike inched closer to the back of the van, Daria said, "Don't trip." She felt no obligation to be nice to Spike, as Spike was only refraining from insulting her under pain of having Dr. Vaughn reduce him to his component atoms.

Spike flashed her a dirty look, put his duster over his head, and yelled, "Say when!"

He easily made it inside.

Everyone else followed him in.

It was a more or less typical suburban house, albeit one that looked like it got cleaned irregularly and hadn't gotten new furniture since sometime in the Reagan administration. But then, given what Jane had told her, they were lucky to have even that much. Jane's parents had provided sporadic financial support and even more sporadic emotional support.

Still, it was a house and it was inside.

"We'd offer you something to eat," Jane said. "Only I'm not sure what we have at the moment. Lots of ramen soup, some beer. No blood. Sorry, Spike," Jane said, not sounding the least bit sorry.

"None I can tap, anyway," Spike said. "Any chance you have any newly dead corpses around here?"

"Nope; I haven't quite made it to my serial killer phase yet," Jane said. "Maybe next week."

"How about something for a headache?" Willow said.

"A sledgehammer to the back of the skull," Jane said. Willow glared at her. "Oh. You meant to get rid of a headache. Sure, we have some aspirin upstairs. I'll go get it. In the meantime, help yourself to all the water you can drink."

"Can I have a beer, at least?"

"Sure," Trent said. "It's not very good beer, but it's beer."

"At this point I'd settle for ripple," Spike said, walking towards the kitchen. "Anyone else?"

"I'll take one," Giles said.

"You drink beer?" Buffy said. "I'd have at least figured you for a solid pint of Guinness."

"And if there were any around, I'd drink it," Giles said. "In the meantime, if I have to make do with --" he looked down at the can Spike was handing him and gave an involuntary shudder -- "Old Milwaukee, so be it."

Right then the phone rang. After three rings, Trent said, "Oh, right. My house," and went to answer it.

A couple of seconds later, he said, "Um, the voice at the other end says he wants to talk to a Slayer?"

Daria and Buffy looked at each other. "Heads or tails?" Buffy said.

"I'll take it," Daria said. "I have to get used to people thinking of me as that, after all." She went and took the phone from Trent. "Lane residence. Slayer speaking," she said.

"You didn't have to slash our tires," came the voice at the other end of the phone.

"Ah. This would be a Knight of Byzantium, then."

"Yeah. I'm the one who knows Jane. This is Mack."

Daria said, "For what it's worth, I didn't slash your tires."

"If not you, someone in your party did."

"I never claimed otherwise. And if you expect us to apologize for trying to slow down what seems to be an inexorable pursuit, I can guarantee you you'll be waiting a long time."

Mack said, "But that's just it. We weren't going to pursue you. You pretty much crippled us. There probably aren't five Knights left in full fighting trim." A note of harshness entered his voice. "So you'd better be damn sure you can defeat the Beast when she shows up."

"We will be," Daria said. "If nothing else, we'll -- what's that?" There was an odd noise from the other end of the phone. "Mack? Hello?"

"Sorry," a harsh female voice said suddenly. "He can't come to the phone right now. Or ever."

Holy crap. It was Glory.

"But he was right about one thing," she said. "You shouldn't have slashed their tires."