Disclaimer: Buffy & company - still not mine. Alas.

Nothing abnormal contained, besides what's intended. Thoughts, and stressed words. There are some funky pairings contained, though they aren't as obvious now as they will be later.. They'll become more noticeable next chapter, and thereafter. They're somewhat unusual. I know that. It's in purpose. Expect very little, if any, cannon plots for at least a few chapters.

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December 3rd, 2000
Sunnydale Memorial Cemetery
2:00 AM
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Toss. Flip. Catch. Toss. Flip. Catch.

It's not that Buffy Summers wasn't paying attention to her surroundings, that'd be asking for trouble of the violent kind. She was just a bit more interested in breaking her current record at flipping her stake midair, then catching it. She'd gotten to 87 the previous night before being very rudely interrupted by a fledgling with a serious attitude problem. Her record was 96. She was going to beat it.

Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine…

She'd probably have been home already, but the full moon the night before had awakened an unusual amount of under worldly types, and Giles had been set a bit on edge. 'Things have been a bit quieter than usual, lately,' the Watcher had said, halfway through a training session, 'And it'd be for the best, I think, if you might extend the patrol route a bit for the next few days.' She'd agreed, privately - vamps were a pain when they were out and about, but let them vanish for a few days, and they were almost universally a real nightmare when they turned up again. If their return happened to coincide with a full moon, that was just plain dangerous - but, of course, she verbally reminded him that she did have assignments, and presents to buy, and friends to see, and generally a lot of things to do that didn't end with her covered in dust and slime.

Sixty-three, sixty-four…

The slight whining had worked, though Giles had been grudging to give in. The slayer, for the first time in several weeks, was taking an official night off. Angel would cover patrol - she knew that, and Willow would probably go with, as usual. Oz was wolf-sitting this month, so he was off the hook. That left her and Xander, who definitely wouldn't be up for Scooby activities, anyway. Convenient. Buffy wasn't complaining. All she had to do was get through the rest of patrol, and the following night, and she was promised one night of complete normal-girl relaxation.

Several yards behind her, moving without, he was sure, any sound, a dark figure crept towards the slayer, fangs bared. She had no idea he was there… just a few more steps, and he'd do what so many of his kind had tried for the last five years: kill the slayer. The stories that circulated the vampire world about the girl were intimidating, to say the least, each one growing more improbable than the last. For the life of him, though, he couldn't see what all the fuss was about. Here he was, a few scant feet from dinner, and she had no idea of his presence. One more step, and -

"I think it's customary to be quiet when stalking your prey."

The vampire blinked at the back of her head, startled. Was she talking to him?

Seventy-six, Seventy-seven…

With a sigh, Buffy turned, facing her stalker with a somewhat superior smirk. "You," she began, accusingly, still mindlessly flipping her stake, "Were trying to sneak up on me."

"Well…yeah."

"Does the term 'elephant stampede' mean anything to you? No, wait. Lemme guess," Adopting a bored tone, she went on, "You were gonna suck my blood, kill my friends, eat my family, take over Sunnydale, blah blah blah. Look, it's old. It's boring. What's your name?"

"Jacob," He allowed, after a moment, still a bit bewildered.

"Jacob. How Long have you been in town, Jacob?"

"Just a few weeks, I was, uh, from San Francisco, orrigi - Hey!" Jacob stopped abruptly, narrowing his eyes at the blond slayer and taking a few menacing steps forward. "You're trying to stall me. Scared, Slayer?"

"Not really. Hey, stop moving! Wait a minute. Ninety-eight. Ninety-Nine. One hundred. Hah! I knew I could do it. Catch." Moving faster than he was able to follow, Buffy caught the stake on it's final downwards descent, but instead of tossing it upwards again, she snapped her wrist, releasing it and embedding it deep in Jacob's chest. Numbly, he looked down, blinking once at the piece of wood.

"Sh -"

Buffy coughed, making a futile attempt to wave the dust out of her face, before giving up. As she moved past the pile of what was Jacob, she scooped her stake up, tucking it into her pocket. She broke her record, dusted a few vamps, and gave good thought to what kind of ice cream she wanted for breakfast. Patrol was definitely over.

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December 3rd, 2000
Unknown
2:45 AM
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He frowned. The original few discrepancies, he could ignore. They happened sometimes. But lately, the situation was growing more severe. Very little was as it should have been. He did not know what that meant, but he knew he didn't like it.

It would bear further study.