A/N : Don't flame me for this Chapter please! I tried to get some friends to check it out, but they haven't sent an opinion. I'm not entirely sure about it, so if ya do like it, press the pretty button, and relieve my torment! If ya don't do the same thing, and kill me. (kidding) Though some of you might want.. Rambling now.

The gang waited patiently for the new arrival to, well, arrive. Oz and Willow were babysitting Dawn, although the need for a babysitter was questionable in *everyone's* mind, but because it had become procedure, it happened.

Just then, a scream rang out in the air, and all of them raced to the place where it came from. A dazed brunette in very old PJs stood where Buffy had landed, rubbing her eyes.

"Okay, much with the *ouch*!" she said, then took in the people surrounding her.

"And with the weirdness."

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Spike shoved the door open with his foot, he was so dog-tired that he barely made it into the crypt before stumbling and falling.

"Home bloody home," he said, sighing, as he fell into deep slumber.

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Dawn sat on the couch, pouting. It wasn't fair! Oz and Willow were watching TV, and although she'd *nicely* requested going to Janice's, they had refused. Okay, so she wasn't going to go to Janice's, she wanted to go to the frat party that she and her friends had been invited to, but it couldn't hurt to have a little trust!

She crossed her arms, glaring at the TV. A stupid movie was on, Snow White, she'd hated it from the age of five, and Buffy too, but Oz and Willow were wrapped up in it, only coming out of the Disney induced stupor to smile at one another.

If they're playing Mummies and Daddies starring mew as their kid, I'm *so* out of here!

Dawn watched for a reaction, and got up and went upstairs.

" Night honey," Willow called, and Dawn grimaced.

I wonder if I could borrow one of Buffy's stakes?

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Cat picked herself up, dusted herself off, and stared at the people around her.

"Haven't you ever seen a teenage girl drop out of the sky in her pyjamas?" she demanded, her hands on her hips. The guys were staring, and the girl just looked *very* puzzled.

"Actually, no." Cat shook her head a second. It *looked* like a very twisted version of her fantasies of dropping in on the Buffy set, in the *metaphorical* sense, and being a famous actress. Considering she lived in Suffolk, England, that was hardly going to happen. And now, unless somehow her scented candles induced hallucinations, it looked like her dream had come true.

Did I just think that? Ooh, *bad* inner monologue!

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Connor stared at the girl, who seemed to have a problem with that. And his Dad was staring, and Buffy just looked *very* confused.

"Er, Dad, this doesn't *often* happen in this dimension, right?" he asked nervously. " Who *are* you?" Buffy asked, ignoring Connor.

"I'm Cat. Who are *you*?"

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Cat took in the very much a Sarah Michelle Gellar lookalike, and pinched herself.

"Oww! Painful, and *so* not funny! This *is* a dream. And some way, I got to wake up. *Now*!" she cried, as she rubbed the pink mark she had made.

"You're awake," the Angel lookalike volunteered.

"No shit Sherlock," she fired back. "That hurt! Which means not a dream. Which means either I'm on a *bad* acid trip, or this is real."

Angel stared at the girl. She *looked* fifteen. She didn't act like it, but then Connor didn't act like a baby, and technically, he was, so that could be deceiving. And the accent that was bothering was sounding more and more like Spike.

"Er, Buffy, do you think she could be the girl?" he asked. Buffy nodded.

"*Buffy*? Buffy? The only people who own names like that are either very podgy spaniels, or a TV programme star, and I don't think either of those apply to you, so if you can direct me to the nearest funny farm, I can drop you off before I go to Laa Laa land."

"She talks funny," said Connor. Angel looked at him, and nodded.

"Hey! I happen to be one hundred percent British, thank you very much! Now, wake me up!" Cat yelled. Her dream was boring, and cold, and in no way involved whipped cream, and Spike. She wanted out!

"We kinda can't. You see, I *think* you're the girl we're looking for. And that means, you're the Slayer," Buffy explained to the nice lunatic. She *seemed* like the girl they were supposed to find, but the best way to find out was nasty, and the girl standing infront of her seemed like she needed a nice new coat that tied behind her.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever. And you're Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and you want to take me and Mulder to a meeting of the Scoobies at which Homer Simpson will be experimented on." Cat said, with *definite* use of sarcasm.

I don't *like* this dream!

There was only one way to find out. The nasty way. Buffy withdrew a knife from her pocket, and threw it at the girl's head. She hit it out of the way.

"Works for me," Buffy said shrugging, and walked off, towards Giles, and people that actually talked without sounding like they swallowed the TV guide. Angel and Connor followed.

Cat was shocked. The bizarre blonde had thrown a knife at her!

"*Excuse* me!" she yelled. They stopped, staring at her. "I may be fifteen, and slightly weirded out her, but you threw a *knife* at my head!"

"Yeah. Merrick did it to me. You're a Slayer, what you worried about?" the blonde said, staring.

"A Slayer doesn't exsist! It's some phsyco creation of a geriatric hippie called Joss Whedon on an acid trip! " Cat yelled. Now she was *sure* they were delusional.

"Yeah. Just come with us."

For want of something better to do, (and the fact she wanted to talk to someone who didn't seem to jump straight out of her favourite TV programme) she followed them.