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"...and when I woke up, I was outside the construction site." finishedBuffy. Fortunately it was a Saturday, and Buffy had been able to catch up on some *much* needed sleep. She looked around the library table. Willow sat in her chair, looking attentive. Giles seemed slightly lost in thought. Xander looked sympathetic and had his arm around Cordelia's shoulders. Cordelia's face was marred by an expression of anger and grief. She looked up at Buffy. "Fine," Cordelia said. "You get to go off and run around and meet Elvis. But what about *me?* Don't any of you understand. They were going to have a Sak's Fifth Avenue in that new mall. A *Sak's!*" Cordelia buried her face in her hands in despair as Xander held her a little closer. Buffy opened her mouth to reply to the taller girl's diatribe and then just shook her head and let the subject drop. "Well, I think it's incredible." said Willow. "Especially the part about the magical computers. I would *love* to get one of those. My IBM would be *so* gone!""So, Buff, did you bring us any souvenirs?" asked Xander. "Sorry, Xander. I guess I went to another dimension and all I got was this lousy T-shirt." said Buffy, touching her shirt. "Well," she said, remembering Melissa and the others, and her brief friendship with them, "maybe that's not *all* I got." "I only wish y-you'd been able to bring the Dagger back. Such an artifact would have made for *fascinating* study." said Giles, dressed in his comfortably familiar tweed. Buffy was so glad to see *her* Giles that she'd promised herself that she'd never tease him about tweed again. She even intended to *keep* that promise, at least for a couple of days. "How exactly *did* you get back, Buffy?" asked Willow."Beats me." she said. "I can only assume that since she was native to this world, and the effect she'd called up involved banishing the demons to *their* home world, the "tide", so to speak, carried her home." explained Giles. "Well," finished Buffy. "I'm just glad it's over and I'm back on the Hellmouth where it's *safe.*" Except for a still grieving Cordelia, they all laughed. * * * Later that night and a couple hundred miles away in Los Angeles, Maria Vasquez stared in fear at her attacker. He was a tall, blond young man, with a cold sneer on his lips and a gun in his hand. "Now gimme the money, bitch, or I'll blow you away. Damn wetbacks." Haltingly, she tried to explain that she had no money, that the man who owned the sewing shop had delayed their paychecks again. "Fine," he said. "I told you 'your money or your life.' Guess we know which I'm taking." He steadied the gun and Maria began to pray. Somehing whistled through the Los Angeles night and slammed into the man's head, knocking him down. Maria looked at her mugger in shock. A knife was embedded in the top of his head. She looked at it. Red and white stones were embedded in the hilt. It slid free, cutting through the skull like butter and lay gleaming on the ground. Cautiously, Maria picked it up and looked at it. The blade was clean. She looked at the hilt again, examining the gemstones. A thing like this she could sell. Her cousin worked in an antique shop and would get her a good price. She might even get enough money to quit her job and go toschool. She pocketed the blade and thanked God for this doubly fortunatehappening. * * * On the same night, just outside a small Texas town, William Loman rubbed his eyes. He'd been driving most of the night, trying to get to El Paso for a meeting of himself and other sales personel to discuss the redistribution of sales territory. Said meeting to be held at nine in the morning. Loman was afraid of flying, and besides, whatever the statistics said, he knew in his bones that driving was safer. Not so far to fall if something went wrong.Suddenly, without so much as a sputter, the engine died and the car coasted to a stop. "Godammit!" Loman shouted, pounding the wheel in frustration. He popped the hood and got out of car. Unless it was something like adding some oil, he was in deep shit. Loman knew less than nothing about cars except how to drive one, and after a few beers he tended to forget most of that. He checked the oil. It was full and he sighed in frustration. His cell phone was on the blink as well. He had resigned himself to a long walk back to town when a voice with a Texas accent spoke. "Looks like you could use a hand there, partner." The headlights showed a young man wearing dusty demin and a faded shirt. His hair was black and oddly enough, he wore sunglasses. A traveling pack sat on his shoulders. Hitchiker, thought Loman warily. Just what I need. "I was just heading back to town to get a mechanic." he said, watching the young man."Hell, they're all closed this time o' night." he said in an open, friendly voice. "Tell you what, you gimme a ride up the road and I'll take a look at her for ya. You look like a man in a hurry." "You get this thing to run and I'll take you anywhere you want." offered Loman, then temporized, "as long as it's El Paso." The stranger chuckled. "Deal. Get in the car and try to start her when I say." Loman and got in. After a short time he heard the man say. "Now try it." The car started right up. Loman breathed a sigh of relief. His savior tossed his pack in the backseat and got in. They started driving. "So, you got a name?" asked Loman. "Ben." he said. "Benjamin Lyle.""You live around these parts, Ben?" Loman asked. "I used to a real long time ago. Right now I'm just gonna walk the world, see what there is to see and chow down on all that life has to offer." he said, favoring Loman with a toothy grin."Any plans for the future?" asked Loman. "I figure to head up California way in a while. There's this pretty little blond girl lives in a small town called Sunnydale. I'm anxious to renew our acquaintence." He smiled that unsettling grin again, then cocked his head, listening to the radio. "Say, isn't that Don Henley doin' "Garden of Allah?" I love that song. Let's turn it up." said Ben. Loman shrugged his assent and the song played louder, filling the car as they drove into the Texas night. Lyrics: And the fruit is rotten, the serpent's eyes shine, as he wraps around the vine...in the Garden of Allah. THE END
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